Dinner is set up buffet style in one of the large receiving rooms. It's like the palace was designed to host this kind of semi-formal event. There are sideboards groaning with food along one long wall. Many styles are represented: Amber, Rebma, Paris, the foods of several shadows. There's also a table with wines and whiskeys and fine cut crystal to drink them from.
There's a large long table in the center with chairs around it, but nobody is seated yet. A few servants vanish through the side doors as Gerard rolls in and Corvis, Garrett, and Alex follow.
"Help yourself, Alex. Hope you're hungry," Garrett says as he leads Corvis to the spot at the table with no chair, obviously Gerard's spot, and politely pulls out a chair next to it for Corvis.
"Like you would not believe," says Alex gratefully. He makes a beeline for one of the tables, without being too picky about which one, and finds a plate. The roast thing in front of him apparently has bones in places he wasn't exactly expecting them, but he makes do before finding himself a place at the table and dropping his plate off.
"Oh, hey, I guess Uncle Gerard? Miss Corvis? Can I grab you two plates while I'm up?"
Corvis has already seated herself in the chair Garrett pulled out, but Gerard has wheeled over to one of the tables and is gathering a plate that, from the looks of it, might be for Corvis. The tables are low so he has no trouble reaching from his seat.
"Thank you, Alex," Corvis says, "but my husband has my plate well in hand." She smiles kindly; clearly she understands the offer is well-meant.
A fellow that Alex hasn't met yet wanders in, looks around, and focuses on Garrett. Based on dress and demeanor, Alex might guess musician. Definitely from a place like where Alex comes from. "Garrett," Soren asks (because it's Soren), "have you seen Folly and Martin?"
"Not since earlier today," Garrett replies while on his way to a food table. "I don't think they were leaving though. They should be down in a bit."
As if on cue, they enter, with Lark in tow. Folly is talking to her in a low voice. When she looks up and sees Soren, she beams. "Soren!" she says brightly, "Like three hours ago I was supposed to find you later, but then other stuff happened. Have you met my daughter?"
Soren nods. "Time is an illusion, or so I'm told by our drummer, usually when he's late. Hello Lark, I hear you met my bandmates Tjaden and Haven."
"I did," Lark agrees. "And you're Uncle Soren. I've seen your picture."
Martin is with them. For those who have only seen him in passing, he's about average height, blond-haired, definitely muscular, and has the off-center walk of a guy who's used to wearing a sword. But he makes finger-guns at Soren by way of greeting. He's wearing jeans and a flannel shirt with an undershirt and stompy boots, all of which look like handmade local manufacture, except maybe the boots.
Lark is about five, maybe? She's got brown hair, which is escaping its braid, and is wearing what looks to Alex like a kid's pair of canvas jeans and a blue cotton tee shirt, and something that approximates ballet flats. All of it is the same handmade quality, though.
Soren is close to six feet, with light hair and eyes. He's wearing a doublet and jeans. He's also wearing stompy boots similar to Martin's. His hair is a little unkempt and not long but definitely in the "your mom wants you to cut it" zone.
Delta wanders in a few minutes after Soren. She looks clean and fresh in linen tunic and trousers, with her sleeveless leather jerkin over all. She gives off the scent of guest-room bath salts. Not one to be shy in any room, she gives the group in general a friendly nod before wandering over to plonk down in a free chair -- next to Alex's first buffet plate, not that she knows it's his. "Warm greetings, all," she says.
Martin says, "So we have newcomers. I'm Martin; Random's my dad. Folly here--" he gestures to Folly "--is my wife, and this is our daughter--"
Lark interrupts and says, "I'm LARK! Who are you? Are you my cousins? Is Hannah bringing the baby?"
Folly presses the back of her fingers to her mouth, an unsuccessful attempt to stifle a grin. She's a small woman with dark eyes that sparkle with good humor and dark hair streaked in the front with prominent purple locks that frame her face; the rest is twisted into knots that arc across the top of her head. She's wearing a voluminous sundress in swirling blues and purples, more appropriate to summer than to the current season, but she has thrown a red cloak over it, and also appears to be wearing stompy boots. Perhaps that's the fashion here.
She shoots Garrett an amused, mock-exasperated look at Lark's exuberant outburst, then glances at the other guests. For those who read people well, it's not hard to tell that she's assessing how much she needs to try to corral her daughter versus turning her loose to socialize with her new cousins. She pays attention to Gerard's and Corvis's reactions as well.
Garrett returns Folly's look and sets his now-full plate on the main table, getting ready to scoop up a running child into a one-armed helicopter swirl if it becomes necessary. "Hey, Lark!" he greets her. "How was Rebma?"
Alex rallies nobly. "Hi, LARK! Do I have to yell your name or is it OK if I just call you Lark? I'm Alex, I'm a new cousin, and I don't know anything so I bet you can teach me a lot!"
He comes back to his seat with a second plate of food, then peers down at the plate he already got himself, and shrugs. He's a beefy guy who seems to have adopted a quirky grin as a permanent fixture. He's wearing palace generic garb, probably also with stompy boots, mostly in shades of blue.
Lark giggles. "You don't have to be loud every time. Only half the time. Mama has the pictures; she can teach you about everyone."
Martin grabs a plate for Lark and starts filling it up with things she likes (which may not be immediately obvious to those who don't know him but certainly is to Folly and Garrett). Once he has Lark settled, he fills a plate for himself and comes to sit with Garrett.
Folly glances at Soren. "You wanna grab a plate and sit with us, or should I come find you later, for real this time?" she asks.
She fixes a plate for herself and settles in next to Lark, across from Alex and Delta. "Welcome, Alex and... Delta? I saw you come in to the infirmary but didn't have a chance to introduce myself. I grew up Elsewhere as well and just found out about all of this" -- she waves a hand in an all-encompassing sort of gesture -- "a few years ago. Pretty much simultaneously with the Sundering, if anyone has mentioned that yet. I mean, Xanadu didn't exist yet, but I spent some time in Amber, the old king Oberon's seat of power, until it did. Where are you from?"
Alex chortles. "All of this is such a good way to put it. Well, I feel better, cause everyone else I've met has been born to this. It's really nice to meet you! How long did it take you to adjust? Don't tell me if the answer is depressing."
He looks down, and double-takes at the pair of plates, then shrugs to himself.
"So we call it Earth? But, um... computers, airplanes, lots of motors, billions of people. There are kings and queens but it's mostly ceremonial."
He follows up by digging in, showing a distinct appetite. "This is goodfm!"
"Delta, yes," Delta says as Alex downs the buffet food. She gives a wink to Lark before asking Folly, "Oh, did Dworkin find-- no. That was another F-name. Sorry." She gives Folly an apologetic look before going on. "'All this'" -- she imitates Folly's hand gesture -- "has a lot of names to remember.
"As for where I'm from -- home, really. Is what I call it. It's one of dozens of islands, spread along the sea in a curve." She traces the shape in the air for Lark's benefit. "Not the biggest, not the smallest. We call the whole crescent the islands of Pearl, but I don't know what all the world would be called." She hasn't visited the buffet yet, so she deftly snags a bit of potato off Alex's untouched plate while he's inhaling food from the first one.
"I explore," she says. "And I sail and fight and play against lesser card-players to fund the whole of it." With that, she pops the piece of potato in her mouth.
Soren pulls up a chair with his place in time to hear the last response. "I produce music. Or I will when we get the studio tech settled."
About this time a page leads First to the Fray in. She is a tall, slender reddish-blond woman; those who saw her before may notice she has changed clothes. She's wearing a pale dress with a heavily beribboned-looking corset to support her waist and back, where the exterior leather of the corset is also a similar off-white, but with the ribbons laced into the body in braided patterns. Her footwear is of similar pale leather.
There's something a bit strange about her movements to those who haven't had a chance to observe First before.
First smiles in acknowledgement at Garrett, Folly, and Gerard, whom she certainly recognizes, and also to Lady Corvis, and begins to load her own plate.
Folly smiles. "Soren and I grew up together, someplace that sounds pretty similar to Alex's home, actually. Texorami. The king is our drummer; he's not from there, but he met us when he was passing through and it kind of stuck. He's a card-player, too," she adds for Delta's benefit, and her smile deepens. "So, yeah, you're going to fit in just fine here."
Soren takes a drink and looks at Delta. "I've lost a lot of money to the King playing cards, but I'm probably a lesser card-player. Weirdest thing, this place. It's so clearly, screamingly Syd's-- Syd is what we call the King, but it sort of pulls in things he expects or needs or wants to have around. Like me and the rest of the band.
"Other people just show up, because it's like it's where they're supposed to be. I have no idea if that affects you, but it affects every single other person here."
"That's what coin does, eh?" Delta says with a laugh. "The tide rolls in, the tide rolls out." She pours herself a cup of water from a pitcher near at hand. "Is that why he's King, then?" Delta asks, after a long drink. "That pull of his?"
Alex is quiet, because his mouth is really full right now, but he's listening intently.
"Well," Folly says, "the brief, true answer is that he's King because a unicorn gave him a magic rock. As for why she chose him, that's a bit more speculative. I've certainly got my own ideas; talking with Huon this afternoon makes me think the King's status as a youngest son in a family where the youngest are the best at forging connections and cooperating with each other was a definite factor."
Her eyes track to First at the buffet. She offers a warm smile, making clear she's welcome to join them if she'd like.
First has a small plate, mostly fruit and breads, and works her way over to Folly and the others.
Soren stands when she comes over, freeing up a seat next to Folly. "First to the Fray, my apologies, but I've got work to do. I believe you've met Folly, and these are Delta and Alex, who are her cousins."
"And I'm LARK," says Lark. "Why are your elbows funny?"
"My elbows are the same as my father's. Why don't yours bend like this?" First replies, bending her elbow in a way that looks really painful but seems graceful and natural on a moonrider.
"And on that note, I hope we can talk later, Folly," says Soren.
Folly touches his arm fondly and gives him a thumbs-up.
Alex's attention is completely caught. "Whoa. Wait, that's amazing. Hello, uh, First to the Fray, I'm Alex, and..."
He trails off, then demonstrates the ability to twist his arm around in a manner that looks like it ought to hurt him but which is not even close to what First can do, with an enormous grin.
"Your joints are very cool! Do you wrestle? If you don't, would you like to learn?"
Folly casts a surreptitious glance at her daughter; First may not be the only one to answer that question.
"Hallo and farewell," says Delta with a smile and a hand-over-heart salute to Soren. The smile and salute remain as she adds, "Greetings to you, First to the Fray."
Soren bows slightly to Delta and slips off.
Whatever she might have said next, Alex talks over it with his wrestling excitement. As arms bend and wrestling is discussed, Delta makes no attempt to hide her curious perusal of First -- but there's nothing overtly rude in the look-over unless one would be inclined to take it that way.
"Greetings Alexand," says First. "I have seen many different forms of wrestling in different shadows. It is a prime training method for fugue combat skills, for the Riders of the Moon, but they are very specialized. Tell me about your wrestling? Did training for it give you the flexibility you demonstrate, or did that flexibility lead your to wrestling?"
Lark doesn't speak up but she does look from one adult to the other. She wants to know all about the wrestling.
"...and do you do the competitive kind, or the kind that's more... performative?" Folly asks between bites of food.
Before Alex or anyone can answer, the door opens again, and Brij walks in, wearing one of Martin's suits, which may have had a few razor blades applied to quickly tailor it to her size.
"Folly, Martin, where is my granddaughter?" she says, in a soft and pleasant voice.
Lark stands up on top of her chair, not quite toppling it, and says "GRANDMA, OVER HERE!", and starts waving.
"Nevermind, I see her," adds Brij and heads over to the table where Folly and Lark are sitting and standing, respectively.
Delta lets out a quiet laugh at Lark's eagerness. "She's got mighty pipes," she says in an aside to Folly while the wrestling talk goes on. "How old is she?"
Delta senses Folly may be suppressing a sigh that is not directed at her as she turns to answer. "In the vicinity of five. It's a bit hard to keep track exactly when you move from shadow to shadow, where time can flow differently. I swear I would be gone for a couple days on an errand and come back and she'd be like a month older. Of course, we did intentionally choose a faster-time shadow so she could grow up a bit without being away from here too long." She smiles sidelong at her daughter and her arriving mother, a discerning look that is probably keeping watch for shenanigans even as she keeps most of her focus on Delta.
Fletcher arrives with Gerard in the middle of the room by Trump.
First snaps to attention for a moment, then when nothing seems to happen and most people don't even seem to take notice, she asks, "Is it always like that at dinners here?"
To Folly, Delta says, "You can choose how she ages? Gods below, that's a new one."
Folly chuckles and nods, giving Delta the impression it was new to her, as well, when she met the family.
To First's salute and question, she says, "Is it like that where you come from? Salutes and such?" Social creature that she is, she doesn't seem at all bothered from trying to carry on two conversations at once. In fact, she asks yet another question of First and Folly both. "How do you manage it, with everyone coming from places as different as can be? Don't your customs ever bash against each other?"
"They certainly can," Folly says, "but Amber also was a hub of cross-shadow trade, so those who grew up there are used to navigating those kinds of differences.
"You know," she adds, thinking on First's question, "it's funny, we call ourselves the 'Ordered' side of the universe, but apparently there's only so much order we can handle. Most of our bodies are in a pretty stable form and we generally only move through time in one direction, but then our family gatherings are like this." She gestures broadly and then grins at First. "More formal gatherings aren't quite like this -- but they're not entirely unlike this, either."
First nods. "We all exist on a spectrum of order and disorder, but in narrow bands that allow life. Primal Chaos is terrifying to even consider, and the Chaos we know is very ordered, compared to that. And we 'ordered' beings could not exist if we did not have a core of chaos within us. " She pauses. "I met Sir Edan at the border, where the most ordered chaosians and the most chaotic ordered being live in the shadow of Ygg. Even those of us with our origins at the poles of Order are more like the Chadians than we could be like the Lords of the Living Void."
She takes a bite of food. "And like siblings, we fight."
Folly raises her glass as if in agreement, and adds, "But I am ever hopeful that, like siblings, we can find common ground and common cause." She smiles and takes a sip.
Brij comes over and says "Hello Dears" just as Lark launches herself from her chair into her Grandmother's arms. Brij expertly catches her and swings her around, using her gymnast training to keep the girl from kicking or head butting anyone unexpectedly.
"Hullo, Mum," Folly says, but decides to hold off on introductions until Brij is a little less distracted with the granddaughter-spinning. To First, she says, "I haven't spent much time near or beyond Ygg, except for that several-month-long afternoon I spent on a butte getting an art lesson from our great-grandfather Dworkin." She turns to Delta and adds, "Did I hear you say you'd met him?"
"Mm?" Delta sounds a bit distracted, given First to the Fray's talk of chaos and order. But a grin spreads across her face as she absorbs Folly's question. "We did, aye. Alex and me, we met him in a side room over rum, then were spirited off to a ship where we met Bleys, and then to the mountain above this place, where the lady Unicorn's fountain is." She sips again from her own glass of water before adding, "I like him. Cheeky old man, eh? Probably too smart by half."
Folly has sat up a little straighter as Delta answers. "Wait, so you met him here? Today?" she asks excitedly. "I wonder if he knows he's invited to dinner?" She frowns thoughtfully, gazes sort of upward but focused on nothing in particular, and says, "Dworkin, you're totally invited to dinner." Then she grins, shrugs, and gestures for Delta to continue.
Delta glances at Brij and Lark before asking -- somewhat quietly -- "If you all can shift your ages hither and yon, why does he stay old? Does he have to?"
Brij and Lark are bit loud, but no more so than most young children and their grandparents.
First is listening avidly to Tales of Dworkin.
"Well, I only know how to go forward in time," Folly says, "so there's that. I think he's supposed to be able to shapeshift, though, like our chaosian cousins -- or he used to be able to, anyway -- so at least by appearance I guess he's like that because he chooses to be, or because that's the form that uses up the least energy, or maybe he just got stuck like that and forgot how to switch back...."
"Oh, he was going off to find another. Another F-name, even. Forgive me, it's gone in all the sea of newness." Delta gestures around the room as a whole, as if that might explain. She quirks a smile at Folly. "It's only been a day, eh? It's not even been one full turn of the sun." She stops, thinks, then says, "...if that matters the same here."
She shakes her head. "Anyway. If you've questions of me, have at them. New crew proves itself to old."
When the conversation turns away from Dworkin, First turns to Alex. "I would like to hear more about 'wrestling'. What differentiates it from other forms of combat?"
Alex looks up from where he's been stuffing his face with a kind of fervent intensity.
"Oh, crap, sorry! I don't remember when I ate last -- not like it was a long time maybe, I've just lost track. Sorry. Wrestling."
He blinks to himself, walking down paths of memory. "Right. So yeah -- what I do is staged, for entertainment. Me and my opponent know who's going to win or lose before hand, and we talk a bit about the way we're going to tell the story. Inside the ring the details are improvised. Like any theater, right? You have to bring the audience with you, so no two performances are ever the same.
"Usually no weapons. Winning is by either putting someone's shoulders down on the mat for three seconds, or getting a joint hold and making them give up. So some classic Greco-Roman wrestling, but also a lot of throwing each other around to look like we're wearing each other down."
He smiles, easily. "I'm an athlete, but I'm more of an actor than a warrior, honestly. You can't do what I do and be completely unable to take care of yourself in a real fight, but in the ring it's not real fighting."
Delta, who has heard about wrestling a few times, slips away from the table to finally fetch herself some food. She whistles a merry tune as she piles her plate high with fish dishes and vegetables. When she returns, she tucks into the meal with obvious delight and a few contented noises. She's just fine listening for now.
First nods. "Do you ever wrestle just to see who has the most skill? I fought a for-show fight with your cousin Conner, whose mother is the Arch-Sorceress Fiona. It was not scripted, and we used weapons, but we did not discuss who would win in advance. I decided that. I should like to wrestle some time."
Delta slips away once sparring is brought up in earnest. She still has her plate in hand, and munches idly as she wanders between tables. Those who look embroiled in private, important conversation, she avoids.
Alex gives First an appraising look. "Yeah, I'm in. That'd be really interesting. I bet I learn something from you.
"There are a few people who go back and forth between scripted stuff and for-real sport wrestling. People with a good background in the real thing are usually better at what I do; you know more about how bodies move when they're really fighting, you know? So sometimes people spar, just for fun."
He grins, with an edge of tired intensity underneath it. "I'm pretty good at those.
"So, tell me about your people? Where do you come from, and what's it like?"
"I am so glad. I shall enjoy learning from you, Alex." She looks down at her plate, then back at Alex. "My people are from Tir-na nOgth, the City of Eternal Youth, Moonlight, prophecy, the Jewel of the Sky, the Land of Sorcerers, and many other titles. We are sworn enemies of Amber, where your family is from. We are in exile, and I have never been to my home, but I have seen it."
She eats a dainty bite of something that in some previous life was probably a prawn.
As First and Alex continue talking, Lark returns, followed by Brij. Lark climbs into Folly's lap like an insistent cat. "Hello, poppet," says Brij, "I am dying to hear about your day. Lark says she's going on an adventure, which could mean anything." She drops her voice. "I take it you're not going on the same adventure?"
Folly wraps an arm comfortingly around Lark and angles her chair away from the group she's been chatting with so they can talk somewhat more privately. She keeps her own voice low as well. "No, I'll have my own adventure of staying here and trying to make sure no other ancient foreign powers try to ensorcel our king or any crap like that. You know, as one does." She spears a bit of fish from her plate with a tiny bit more force than necessary.
Brij nods, and picks a roll up off Folly's plate. Lark reaches out for it, so Brij hands it to the child and takes a different one herself. "One day, I'll read your memoirs and they'll be fascinating. Or I'll write them, if it comes to that."
Folly smirks. "You know if I write them they'll be in verse laced with obscure symbolism and will only really make sense to like six people, and only if they get together to compare notes. You can make a mint on the annotated version."
Brij settles down in the chair Delta has left. "I assumed she didn't like me because, as 'the woman' at the poker table, I had access to Random that she didn't. She didn't quite accuse me of sleeping with him, but she might as well have done." She pauses. "It wasn't that kind of poker game."
Folly smirks again around a bite of her dinner.
"Even with all the weirdness, she's still going to have some friends in court, especially in the parts that aren't particularly close to the King. Not a topic for a meal, but I can give you a run-down later."
Folly nods. "I'd appreciate that. I understand you weren't the only one she suspected, and she may have terrorized some of the staff with her accusations. I need to work with Gilt to make sure they're okay, especially the ones that worked closely with her."
She gives undue attention to selecting the exact potato chunk she wants to eat next as she casually asks, "What have you heard about the king's un-sorceling?"
Brij considers. "It's too soon to know. That's because of a lot of reasons, including the sudden arrival of 27 young royal personages, a princely birth, the disappearance of the Queen, and the arrival of the Moonrider Princess, it's hard for the gossip channel to know what to spread rumors about. My favorite rumor is that Martin and Garrett killed her so that their father could marry the Moonrider instead of making one of them do it."
"Logical," Folly agrees, in a tone of amusement.
Brij also finds it amusing. "Logical isn't really a good bet in questions of family motivations, is it?"
She eats a grape from Folly's plate and says "it will take a bit for the rumor mill to decide which ones are good gossip and which ones don't get a second airing."
She looks over at her daughter. "As your mother, I can't decide if I should be telling you what I know and how I know it so you'll be ready when Lark is your age, or if you want the joys of figuring out how to be omniscient on your own. Whatever you did that I may or may not know about, you managed to time it so that it's going to have to compete for notoriety with all of the above."
"Well, you know, they say timing is the secret of comedy," Folly says. She takes a forkful of food, chews, swallows. "Also, I'm pregnant."
She doesn't spit take, but she carefully puts her wine glass back down. "That's... not really as big a surprise as I'd've thought it would be. I think the translated memoirs just got a second volume added on to them. On a scale of zero to three, how many people are taking it badly?"
Folly scrunches her face as she considers her response. "Somewhere between 0.9 and 1.2, I'd say. With that last point-two" -- she glances fondly in the direction of her daughter -- "mostly just worried about the One. Of course that doesn't even count the person who will take it the worst. But she's not here right now, so." Folly gives a little shrug that is clearly more nonchalant than she feels.
Brij isn't buying, but she's not objecting, either.
"Meanwhile I'm just uncomfortably mindful that this is how wars start. Have started. But, you know, aside from that, and accidentally hurting people, I'm good." She shivers, and takes a long sip of her drink.
Brij nods. "I'm glad to hear you're good. I don't have any kind of motherly good advice or bullshit like that, but I am on your side. And Lark's." Brij looks at the girl. "It's so strange to have her suddenly growing up and knowing I missed a big chunk of it because of the way time passes differently." She doesn't look happy. "I hope you don't regret sending her off with him and suddenly finding yourself dealing with a daughter who hasn't had you in her life for years."
"I don't think 'regret' will quite be the right word for it, but I reserve the right to be wistful about it," Folly replies with a tight smile. Her eyes stray in Martin's direction and her expression softens; she looks like she might say more, but then seems to think the better of it. Instead, she says, "She knows I love her, and that's the important part." She drops a tender kiss on the top of her daughter's head.
"I hesitate to bring this up, while things are going reasonably well between us, but that sounds like something I would've said 20 years ago. Children come to their own conclusions, poppet. And it's hard to fix things later."
"Oh, I dunno, I had an interesting chat with Huon this afternoon..." Folly interjects, but motions for her mother to continue.
Brij notes her interjection. "I want to hear all about that, but later."
She looks around. "Regardless, I'm not intending not to see my Granddaughter while you two do or don't do whatever you've got in mind now. Where's her father?"
"He was talking to his brother," Folly replies. "But... please, don't mess with him right now. We can have that conversation when he comes back to collect her."
Brij sees Martin walk past. "He's not interested in talking to either of us right now, anyway. But whatever the working relationship is, it should include enough grandparental contact that the poor child doesn't think she's being raised alone by The Angel Of Death. She isn't going to have a normal childhood in any case, but she should at least get to see something of the rich variety of crazy relatives while she's young. Including getting to know her new sibling."
"That's the plan," Folly says; her emphatic tone sounds like she's willing it into actuality. She strokes Lark's hair and asks her in a gentler tone, "That reminds me, have you met your cousin yet who is one of the castle pages?" She glances around to see if Max is in the room. It's not clear to Brij whether she's trying to emphasize the point, change the subject, or give Lark a chance to escape the conversation about her parents. Or maybe some combination.
"Who? You know I don't pay much attention to children. Present company excluded," she says, reaching around to also stroke Lark's hair. Lark fidgets.
"The story I hear about Huey is that he was brought here on good behavior for the celebration thing and got lost and captured on his way back to jail. How'd your encounter with him go?"
Garrett makes room for Martin without missing a beat of dinner. When his mouth is empty, he says, "I see Lark's back from Rebma. Does the city still stand?" he asks with a mischievous smirk.
"Llewella didn't say it had fallen." Martin rolls his eyes. "She's a handful. At least they have Atrios to keep her out of trouble in Rebma. I'm going to have a time with her on this ship. from Gateway to Weirmonken." He sounds less exasperated than looking forward to the challenge, though. "I can't believe Dad bailed after all that."
Garrett looks up as First enters, then leans in and responds to Martin's comment quietly. "It sounded like some kind of royal matter. I talked to him briefly after I questioned the prisoner with Fletcher."
Garrett continues softly, keeping one eye on the proceedings. "I don't know how much you know about what happened with our 'guests,' but a name came up that I thought you might know. Chew. I thought I heard you or Folly mention it some time ago."
"What about him?" Martin says, his eyes narrowing.
"That he was in charge of some kind of ...genetic research project in that Shadow they just blew up," Garrett explains with a grimace on 'genetic.' "Apparently Chew is an alias in that shadow. He also goes by Brother Hannibal, and he has trumps. The project was to study the genetic material of 'the gods' - us - to figure out what makes us what we are," he concludes grimly.
"He was the one who wanted to take samples from Folly while she was pregnant with Lark. I think she's still terrified of him so be careful how you break that to her. I'll need to have a discussion with this 'guest' after dinner," Martin says quietly. "Want to be in on that?" Garrett is pretty sure he'll need to be the good cop in that operation.
First has responded to Folly's invitation and has moved to join her and Alex and Delta and Lark. Soren, meanwhile, is rising from his seat.
"Yeah," Garrett says with a slight nod before continuing. "I wanted to talk with all the people we brought back about what happened but... not here." He nods at the happy looking group around Alex and Delta. "I did speak with Misao though. She... they?... confirmed a lot of it."
"Invite them to poker or whatever after dinner. I can stay that long. I gotta get out of here before Dad gets back, though." Martin shakes his head a little. "I can't stay the night, even. You know?"
Before Garrett answers, Brij comes in wearing one of Martin's suits (did you know he even had suits?) and one of Folly's t-shirts, asking "Folly, Martin, where is my granddaughter?"
Signy has also come in but it's not Signy that Martin is not-grinding his teeth over.
Lark stands up on top of her chair, not quite toppling it, and says "GRANDMA, OVER HERE!", and starts waving.
"Nevermind, I see her," adds Brij and heads over to the table where Folly and Lark are sitting and standing, respectively.
Garrett finishes the slab of meat he had been chewing while watching Brij's entrance and responds to Martin. "Not sure we're gonna have time to do both if you have to take off tonight. Might be best if we talk to the prisoner and I can catch up with the others later on. I don't need to leave anytime soon," he says, then adds, "Far as I know."
"We can do the interrogation," Martin agrees. "Your word's good with me. You can do the follow-on, too; just call me if you need me."
Garrett nods and takes one more bite of bread and cheese before answering. "All right. Do you want to head out now or are you still eating?" He looks up and adds, "And I see Fletcher's back. Should we check in with him too?"
"I should probably make a stab at finishing some of this," Martin says of his large, full plate, "but we definitely want to hear from Fletcher. And I need to tell Lark and Folly where we're going."
Garrett stands and says, "Take a minute and eat. I'll go grab him." He walks off toward Fletcher's group.
Martin nods, once, and continues eating.
Gerard looks up from his place at the buffet and says, "Who calls?"
Another page steps into the room and steps aside to allow Signy to enter before sketching a quick but professional bow and heading back out.
A lithe woman with black hair and emerald eyes, she's dressed in a plain white shirt and black pants with a dagger tucked into the back. She glances around to take in quickly the groups that are present before moving over to the buffet. As she collects a plate and starts to add to it, the shirt sleeves pull back slightly to reveal wrists and parts of her forearms that look like they belong on someone that has spent their life doing fairly strenuous physical work.
There's a big group that Soren is leaving, with Folly and Lark and a couple of the new cousins, and First has just sat down. And Martin and Garrett are talking. Gerard is in the middle of a Trump call. Corvis waves to greet Signy. "Hello, niece. Please join me if you'd like once you've got your plate."
Right behind Signy, another dark-haired woman wanders in. She's dressed in a jacket and trousers (that those who know the colors of the royal house suspect belong to Martin) and a tee shirt with cartoon characters. "Folly, Martin, where is my granddaughter?" she asks.
Lark stands up on top of her chair, not quite toppling it, and says "GRANDMA, OVER HERE!", and starts waving.
"Nevermind, I see her," adds Brij and heads over to the table where Folly and Lark are sitting and standing, respectively.
Sign gives a quick smile, and finishes a first pass through the buffet, noting with sorrow that the plate with bacon seems to be distressingly bare. She grabs a goblet with some dark red liquid in it, and makes her way over to where Corvis is seated.
"Hello, Aunt. I see we managed a respectable group of Family for this despite the big event being cancelled last minute."
"We expect people to be trickling in here and there for a while. Robin won't, of course; Misao said she wouldn't; and I think Pen is going with Robin. It's a light turnout because of the royal command. When I was high priestess, all the daughters found something to do when trouble was brewing." Corvis glances over at Folly and her troupe, and then at Martin and Garrett. "I'm sure we'll hear what drew the King away later. How are you, Signy?"
Signy gives a brief moue of disappointment. "Misao had asked me to get them something, and I wanted to let them know that it should be delivered to the castle tomorrow."
Corvis nods.
Signy takes a quick, small bite and swallows before continuing. "I'm happy I was able to help rescue Brother Tomat from the Klybesians with the rest of the Queen's Archivists. I'd hoped to spend more time with him and maybe get back to Rebma, but I have a feeling that I may need to get back to the Moonriders to give them an answer about First," she says, making sure her voice is pitched discreetly enough to not raise the attention of others.
Fletcher arrives while Signy is speaking. Corvis takes note, but her attention is mostly on her conversation.
"Have you spoken with First about your mission?" Corvis asks.
While Signy notices that Fletcher arrives, she doesn't visibly react to the now-commonplace light show of a Trump arrival. "No, but I also need to talk with the King since he never really gave me a clear message to bring back," she notes dryly.
She glances quickly at her Uncle, before focusing back on Corvis. "I wonder if this is an opportunity for some sort of better relationship with her people, or if this is just a brief pause before things heat back up again," she says quietly. "It would be very nice if we could put at least one fire out while we look at all the rest that are burning."
"Sometimes the best you can do is keep the ones you're not putting out on low heat until you're ready to turn the water on them." Corvis sounds like she's been through a few firestorms herself. "I don't know all the circumstances of matters with the Moonriders, but I've heard Gerard talk about Jones Falls. They are a significant enemy, or were in your mother's generation, and it'll take a lot to make peace with them.
"It's a shame the King didn't leave you with a clear message."
Signy finishes a mouthful, before shrugging at her aunt's words. "To be fair, I think that was a case of everything was happening right after he came out of the hold of the Queen, so I don't know if he'd even met First at that point."
She manages to hide a fleeting look of worry. "Hopefully whatever the message is I can deliver it and not raise the tensions between the two sides. I was never much of a diplomat, and found it easier to start fires than to control or put them out."
"The life of a royal requires you to do both most of the time, alas. But if you need to speak with the King immediately, perhaps you should try his sons? They may have a card of him." Corvis gestures to where Delta has settled in a chair with Martin, Garrett, and Fletcher.
Signy nods gratefully. "Yes, that would be a good idea, I think. I know that not returning with their token is considered an insult, so planning my trip is probably something to do sooner."
She takes a swallow of wine before continuing. "Were things always this... busy with the Family? There seems to be so many things going on, and waves of new cousins showing up."
Corvis smiles sadly. "I have no idea; I was never at court during Oberon's reign. Gerard considered negotiating with Eric to bring me to court, but the Isles were out of favor after we took in Ysabeau. Oberon would not have recognized Gerard's marriage to me or the legitimacy of our son, and--" she lowers her voice "--given his response, or lack thereof, to events around Martin's birth, we preferred not to bring Vere's existence to Oberon's notice. So perhaps things were quieter, but if so, it was because Oberon forced much of his family out of the court."
Fletcher steps through a trump connection next to Gerard. "Thank you Gerard." He scans the room. "I see things are fairly calm. I thought people would be running off to hunt down the Klybesians. How are the new arrivals settling in?"
"Two of 'em are at home enough to not even show up. The other two are over there--" Gerard indicates the group with Folly, which includes First, Brij, Folly's daughter, and two of the newcomers. "Pen has gone with Robin and Brita, and I think they mean to head out for Arden. Misao, that's the one who belongs to Lucas, is in mourning. But most of the rest of your cousins have already headed out to Paris or wherever Jerod and Ossian were going."
Garrett approaches from the table he was sharing with Martin. "Fletcher. Good to see you back. Do you have a moment to speak with Martin and I? He's heading out soon and I'dlike to catch him up."
"Go on," Gerard urges Fletcher. "I'll be here for a while. We can catch up when you're finished with Martin and Garrett."
Fletcher grabs a plate and turns to Garrett. "I am at your service. I'm glad to say the previous situation was not as dire as I could have suspected. Shall we?" He gestures toward Martin.
Martin is still working on his plate a few moments later when Fletcher returns. "Welcome back, cousin," he says, gesturing to an empty chair for Fletcher to take. "How'd it go?"
Garrett reclaims his previous seat where his half-empty plate of food awaits. "I was telling Martin about our conversation with the monk," he explains to catch Fletcher up.
Fletcher sets his plate down and pulls out a chair to sit. "It went quite well. I was able to confer with both my father and Caine. Neither have kept track of how many others have adopted the 'Sinbad' alias since Caine's days using it. All in all in been quite day since we all went charging through that trump."
"The monk also talked about a 'Turcopolier' as the one who had trumps and access to shadow paths," Garrett adds. "That sounds like a name I should've heard before, but I don't think I have. Do either of you know it?" he asks the two others.
"Edan mentioned that name in the garden, before everything went to hell," Martin says, and it's as if Martin summoned him, because he walks into the room seconds after Martin named him. "I've got to talk to him before we split up. I'm sorry, Garrett, Fletcher. But at least we can make some sense of the title."
Fletcher nods to Martin and looks to Garrett. "Turcopolier roughly translates as the title of a sort of trusted knight leading mercenary forces in the name of his order, I believe. But yes, the idea that the current 'Sir Sinbad' and and 'the Turcopolier' are one and the same seem to make sense. He's known by reputation to members of our family, more as a general than as an actual person."
Garrett also nods at Martin's comment, turning in his seat to see Edan enter the room, then turns back to hear Fletcher's explanation. "Huh. This guy and Huon and Who-Knows-Who. There seem to be a lot of lost relatives who want to cause trouble," Garrett muses, then chuckles as he realizes how naive he sounds given who he's talking to. "But I reckon that's been going on for longer than I'VE heard the stories.
"I haven't gotten back to the King yet, but I did check in with one of the new arrivals," Garrett continues. "The one who's related to Lucas. She - they? - confirmed what Sebastien said about the kidnapping. Misao believes they were drugged and taken out of their Shadow and into the prison. It didn't sound like they had done much beyond that yet."
A lurking Delta speaks from where she stands nearby. "That's about the way of it," she says as Garrett addresses the new-cousin situation. "Forgive my blundering in -- I heard Misao's name and sharpened my ears. But the drugging and the kidnapping, aye. For Misao and Alex, and me besides."
She toasts them with her wineglass. "If I'm intruding, just say so. I'll shove off, no tears."
Martin is not the eldest by appearance of this group, but he nods as if he's the one with the right to make the decision about Delta joining them. "Please, cousin, sit down and tell us your story. I'm Martin, this is my brother Garrett--" he indicates Garrett, "--and this is our cousin Fletcher," who also gets appropriately indicated. "We all have a lot of questions and I'm sure you do too."
"Yes, please join us," Garrett concurs, indicating an empty seat. "I've been wanting to speak with all of you about your experience, but so far I've only spoken with Misao. Can you tell us what happened to you?"
Delta drops into a chair and stretches her legs out in front of her, crossing them at the ankle. "As Misao says, though think on this -- I was on the ship I'd contracted with, at a card-table, and surrounded by sailors hoping to make a few coins off our play. I wasn't alone. I wasn't somewhere that a person could be whisked away from without an eyebrow raised." She drinks, then goes on. "I'm Delta, if no one's said already. And aye, I was playing cards one second and in the next I was in a cell. Huon came to fetch us out. No." She shakes her head. "We were a surprise, eh? He came to break out the archivists. But I suppose it's hard to leave supposed family in gaol."
She snorts, and the smile remains when the sound fades. "And then I got to learn about lanterns without fire, and guns that spit stones into flesh. Though the hot baths are nice. I'll give this wiser place that." She arches her brow at the men, as if they might have more questions to ask.
Fletcher looks surprised. "The monks were able to just spirit you away in the blink of an eye? Did you see anything more of what they could do?"
"Or if someone was looking for coins off your play, was someone taking coins to hand you over to the monks?" Martin, ever suspicious, asks.
"I had a winning hand one moment," Delta says in response to Fletcher, "...and in the next, I woke groggy and cold in gaol. Unexpected, eh? As for the others --" She turns her gaze toward Martin. "Could be. Some of those crewmen would have sold their mothers on the cheap, if need be. I don't know what else the monks do, except that they had guns." The word 'guns' gets special emphasis, and she pats her bandaged side as she says it. "And the loudest noises, and no fear."
She tilts her head. "What's a monk, by the way?"
"In the broad sense, it's a term for a dedicated male religious type, one who serves in a religious order and follows its bidding. In this case it refers to what we call the Klybesian Order, which appears to be a cross-shadow group opposed to our family. They like to take medical samples: blood, hair, that kind of thing, and use it to--I don't even know quite what. But they tried to take my wife when she was pregnant with our daughter, so your kidnapping isn't the first time I've seen them at work." Delta suspects from the tone of Martin's voice that that went badly for the monks involved.
Garrett has been quiet through Delta's account, but his expression is one of deep thought. "How do they know though?" he finally says out loud to no one in particular. "I mean yeah, I reckon our strength makes us stand out in a crowd -- if we let it. But Shadows are vast and infinite, and yet they're grabbing kin from all over them. How do they know? And how broad is their network?"
Martin starts to say something, but...
Delta nods along with the question, then says, "And think on this, mates. You three, you do stand out, eh? You've walked your maze, you've come into your power. Me, Alex, Misao -- we haven't. So these monks know more about us than we do ourselves?" She starts glancing around for a potential refill for her now-empty glass. "I don't even know who sired me," she adds, tone turning wry. "But they do? How's that the case?"
Fletcher smiles, pondering whether to rise to the bait if a rhetorical question. "It's a question of organization and options. Our options and their organization. I don't suppose they gave you any clues on that point, did they?"
"I'm interested in those, too," Martin says. "Because I have to admit my assumption is kind of the opposite: that there's a lot more of this going on than we know about, and we're only seeing the tip of the iceberg. That there are hundreds of people, thousands even, across Shadow out there grabbing people they think might be related to us for whatever reason, and the only ones we find are actually related to us. And not even all of that."
Certain words and concepts bring a blank look to Delta's usually animated face, but she gets the gist of 'organization' soon enough. "Their crew seemed tight enough, eh?" she says in response to Fletcher's question. "Worked together, at least what I saw. But mostly I felt like a babe in its first steps. No idea what direction, just lurching forward."
She turns Martin's way. "How do they know the related ones? Is that the -- ah, you called it 'samples?' Bits of blood and hair and such? That's powerful for divining, it's said." She draws her knees to her chest and wraps her thin arms around them, seemingly deep in thought. "That's work, though. Rituals and the like. And it would mean they'd kept an eye on us before."
"Hard to say," Garrett comments to Delta's question. "I reckon there's ways to tell us from ordinary folk that we don't even know about. Magic would be one, but Shadow is infinite. Who knows what else is out there."
"Magic and technology of the kinds I've seen the monks use in the past are functionally indistinguishable from the outside. So call it divining if you like, or call it sampling and using computerized data matching for genetic markers. Whatever it is, someone has developed a way of identifying us and the monks are using it to track us, or they have a list of suspects they got from somewhere and they're trying to check individual samples against that list and sort from there," Martin says.
He adds, to his brother, "I think about this a lot because of Solace. There's a rumor that she's Eric's daughter. And maybe she is, but there's no talk of--" he sanitizes the next bit as "--asking her if she wants to prove the family heritage. And then there's the funny business with her and the cards, which I don't want to elaborate on right now, but will gladly explain later," which is clearly for Delta's benefit. "So there's something there we don't understand. Maybe they do."
To Martin, Garrett adds, "So if this is as prevalent as you think, then it's likely futile to go looking for it. Should the course be to just... annihilate it soundly when it shows up?"
Martin thinks about this for a moment. "We've already seen what happens when we don't do anything about the Klybesians." Martin gestures to Delta, and adds, for her benefit, "That's another name for the monks.
"But we need two prongs. One is we have to figure out what they know that we don't. I think Dad has some ideas about that--but that's for someone else. The second thing is we have to do something about people who kidnap us for experimentation." He glances over towards Lark. "Exactly what and how hard, we can argue about, but Jerod dropping a mountain on their current lair seems like a good start."
Delta listens closely, and with her knees still hugged to her chest, asks, "Are you certain that no one with the blood -- " She waves broadly, encompassing all three men in the gesture. " -- could be working alongside these monks? I apologize if that's an insulting thing to ask, eh? But Huon just knew after seeing me and Misao and Alex. That we were kin. I don't know if that's just because the monks had jailed us, but if not -- If Huon can divine it, couldn't someone else?" Her mouth twists into a grimace. "Sorry to say it. But do you know everyone who's walked your maze?"
Fletcher has been looking upset about something. He speaks up. "I have some theories about how one might detect our presence in Shadow. It would take some cooperation and simple experimentation to bear out though. It might be how Huon was able to tell. But when it comes to striking back against the Kybesians I can't say I'm all that impressed with the whole 'drop a mountain or hurricane' approach when it involves hundreds if not thousands of innocent bystanders."
Martin starts to say something but...
Garrett nods at Fletcher's assessment. "True. A more precise attack would be better, but in a hurry, you do what you need to do," he says with a resigned grimace.
To Delta, Garrett says more gently, "No offense taken. I wish I could say that no one of the blood would do such a thing, but that's not true. There have been some who've done some pretty horrible things to their kin even in my own short lifetime. Best you can do is stay armed, watch your back and try to find someone you can trust."
Martin nods, once, in agreement with Garrett's warning. "Everyone who swore to Dad is unlikely to shank you. Unknown relatives, though, they're the ones you have to watch out for. No offense."
Fletchers expressions reveal that he doesn't fully accept Garrett's 'in a hurry, you do what you need to' explanation but then his expression shifts to one of bemusement at Martin's statement. To Delta he asks, "What can you tell us about where you came from? It might help us figure out how the Klybesians found you."
Delta takes all this in, with her expressive face shifting from a serious nod at Garrett's words to a crooked half-smile at Martin's. "I wouldn't trust me either, were I you. We're strangers who share some blood ties, eh?" There's no rancor in it; her wry smile remains in place as Fletcher asks his own question. As an answer, she stands just long enough to move plates and glassware around on the table between them. A large platter anchors one end, followed by a trail of smaller plates and cups. She places her own wine glass carefully to finish the shape.
The result is slightly curved, like a tadpole flicking its tiny tail. She points to the platter. "It's called Pearl, eh? All the little islands have their own names, but the biggest one is Pearl." As she sits back down, her voice takes on a storyteller's cadence. "Back when all the world was water, the gods below lived in peace. But peace is something that does not last, not for beasts or people or even gods, and when the gods got angry, their fights shaped the world's center, pushing some of it up to pierce the water and meet sky. One of the gods took pity on the sea beasts marooned on the sun-baked land. The kraken and fish and sharks and whales were turned into people and goats and chickens, and the coral and seaweed became wood and leaf."
The cadence changes back to her usual light, bemused tone. "We fish and plunder and fight and make more of ourselves, and when we die, we sink back to the gods that made us. Going home." She meets Fletcher's gaze. "We don't have monks. We have outsiders, now and again, from lands beyond. They stand out, though. And gossip travels fast." She shrugs. "Ask what you will, any of you. I'll answer as best I can."
"Are you familiar with a chain of islands called New Hong Vegas? I've been to New Hong Vegas a few times and I think I've heard of your Pearl Islands there," Martin asks.
Fletcher listens attentively while taking this opportunity to refill his plate.
"A name," she says after a slow nod. "Only a name, though. A whisper in tales, like the Far Dark or the Green. I -" She offers them all a rueful smile. "For a would-be explorer, I have never left the Islands. Until now."
She drinks again before asking the group: "Are the monks there too? Are they in all the places that you know?"
"I can't say for sure," Martin says, "but I'm beginning to think so. There's a long story there that I can't say in company--" he tilts his head toward the conversation that First is having with Alex and Edan "--but if I'm reading things right, they've had two and possibly more lost members of our family in care from childhood and it's only a miracle, and the protection of one of our uncles, that kept I don't know what from happening to them. Probably enrollment in one of their orders at an absolute minimum. And it seems like they killed, or conveniently found when he was on his deathbed, our eldest cousin Reid.
"But that's grim talk for a meal, so let's just take it as given for the moment that the monks and their sister orders are everywhere, or orders that the monks can suborn. And on that sad note, I have a matter of duty to complete before this meal ends, alas. It's been a pleasure, Delta, and I'll catch up with you two later." Martin nods to his brother and Fletcher, and rises to his feet to move to Edan.
Garrett nods to Martin. "I'll stick around for a while. Catch me if you need anything else before you leave."
Martin nods, once.
"Be well," Delta says to Martin. "Until next we meet."
"Until we meet again," Martin says, and smiles at her.
Once Martin leaves, Garrett turns to Delta and smiles. "A would-be explorer, eh? Where would you have explored, given the chance?"
She pivots in her chair to face Garrett and Fletcher more fully. She says, with great emphasis, "Everywhere. To the horizon and beyond, eh?" She twists enough to drape one leg over the chair arm. "When the monks -- gods below, that was yesterday -- when they found me, they interrupted a fine voyage to an isle past where I'd traveled before. Little Ram Island, it's called. Known for not much more than goats and cliffs, but it was new. Somewhere unseen. And now?" She spreads her arms wide in a theatrical shrug. "Now I suppose I can look past Little Ram Island as a goal." She laughs, then shakes her head. "To think that Rebma is the real place, and ..." Her voice trails off. A few second later, she hitches a breath and says, "But tell me of you, Garrett. Cousin. How far have you traveled, in cards and Shadow?"
"Not as far as most," he grins. "I was born and raised in Amber - the Old World, so to speak. But it was only within the last several years that I learned that I was part of the royal family. Turns out my mum had a dalliance with Prince Random years ago, before he became king, and she got with child." Garrett tells his story with no sign of embarrassment, as if he's told it many times before. "She married a stablehand and he raised me as his own. He's Master of Horse now. You'll probably meet him if you go to the stables," the young prince says, pride and affection for his foster father evident in his voice.
"Once I learned my heritage though and gained my power, I traveled some, just to test it out. I served on ships' crews and found places where people make snow on mountains and hurl themselves down them on polished boards. I traveled to places where horses roam without fences or masters. Not too far afield though. It starts getting really strange the farther out you go."
Delta tilts her head. "Boards on mountains?" she asks, but then waves a hand. "No, another time. I can't fathom any more newness today, except --" She leans forward and drops her voice to a conspiratorial whisper aimed at both Garrett and Fletcher. "Do you know where the maze is? The pattern? Can I see it before I walk it?"
"If Random or Gerard gives you permission you can watch me walk it tomorrow morning." Fletcher thinks a moment and says, "You should definitely study it well before you attempt it. Before the war we used it to build pathways to shadows and made trading alliances. I don't know how many of us left still have the skill or to do it, and it is quite an undertaking."
"And if the King does let you watch, don't try doing it yourself without his permission," Garrett adds. "Besides it being incredibly dangerous and possibly life-threatening, it'll really put you on his bad side." Garrett smirks, but the spark in his eye reveals he's likely speaking from experience.
Fletcher nods. "It's important to prepare yourself spiritually, physically, and mentally before you consider actually walking it. I'm sure many people have advice on how to go about that. I find a solid understanding of who you are and a sense of your place in the larger universe helps. It's also important to be prepared to handle the power that will be at your immediate disposal should you succeed."
Delta nods to all of this as the men speak. She can't help a quick grin at Garrett's advice about not-sneaking, but Fletcher's words clearly bring her up short.
"In the larger universe," she says slowly. "Which...you make, in part. Shadows and the like, eh?" Her brows furrow. "Are we -- you. Not me, not yet. But are you gods?" Clearly, it's the first time the thought has occurred to her, and her eyes open widely with surprise. "You shape worlds. Are you gods, in truth? I'm so damned tired, I didn't even think --"
Her voice trails off. She looks from one man to the other with a helpless expression.
Fletcher offers a (hopefully) comforting smile and shakes his head. "We are not gods. We are symbols - icons of what might be. We are meant to inspire order. As such our actions shape the world around us and echo through Shadows. It's important to remember that. We can make the world a better place, or we can break it - whether we mean to or not. We're still people but we need to remember the impact of our actions. Does that help?"
Garrett adds, "To put it another way, we aren't gods, but we might be seen as such in some shadows. Particularly if people look different or their cultures are not as advanced as our own. As Fletcher said, there's a responsibility that comes with that."
A flicker of relief crosses Delta's troubled expression at Fletcher's words. "I would not want to be a god. Their ways are too tumultuous, and too large. And I will gratefully watch you walk the maze, if the king allows it. Thank you."
Her gaze shifts toward Garrett. "I do not come from an...advanced place. Though until today I would not have thought it so." She holds up a hand as if to forestall protest. "I'm not insulted. A fish and a bird do not envy each other, because in each other's world, they'd die. But I wonder how many of you - the family - are part of song and saga, wherever you go."
"There are few absolutes in that regard, and analogies only go so far." Fletcher pauses, trying to think of how to explain it without idiom. "Talking about a place as more advanced or less advanced leads to the question of how one measures advancement. It's not a measurement that is just higher or lower. It can go in more than one direction, and it may not be just one thing. And however different each place is, our abilities allow us to be there. Being there doesn't mean we can necessarily blend in even if we want to. Sometimes it's hard to avoid being memorable."
Delta grins. "There's not one of you so far who wouldn't stick out like a sore thumb back in the Pearl. Except Bleys, maybe. Maybe Garrett here, with more roguish ways." She smirks in Garrett's direction, but it's Fletcher's words she's concentrating on at the moment. "Can I ask why you're walking the pattern tomorrow? If it's rude to do so, tell me to shove off. I might even do so."
Garrett nods quietly at Fletcher's assessment and returns Delta's good-natured smirk. At Delta's question, he also turns to Fletcher and says, "I wonder that too. Why would you want to do it more than once?" He suppresses a visible shudder, but it's evident in his voice.
Fletcher nods. "I suppose that's a fair question. I'm trying to better understand the nature of order. If it's all inspired by the Unicorn and stems from a central ideal, why do there need to be multiples? Is it a simple structure by which order is strengthened and reinforced? Or are these Patterns variations on a theme with underlying differences despite their physical appearance? It's not something I really have the language to describe. But Patterns do reflect something of their creators. Despite the differences they are the same. In many cultures the Unicorn represents purity, and in some ways the Pattern is a construct of purity, but 'pure' does not necessarily mean 'simple' and complexity is not necessarily 'inelegant'. Few of our family are willing to share much in the way of the deeper knowledge. My own father tends to encourage a self-teaching approach. And most of the younger cousins seem either too busy or less than interested, so I decided to explore this notion for myself. Not that there's anything wrong with people having other interests. I'm still getting used to the idea that people other than Dworkin can create new Trumps." Fletcher pauses a moment. He asks, "What about you two? What do you do for fun?"
"I'm still fairly new to all this. I haven't had more than a few passing instructions on patterns and how they work. I always heard that Fiona was the expert in such things," Garrett explains. "As for fun, I don't know. I did do some exploring recently, as I said. Since coming back, I went to Rebma for the first time. That was an experience."
Delta nods along with the conversation, straightening a bit with interest at the mention of Rebma. First things first, though -- "Fun? Drink, cards, smoke, new bed-friends, a clear, breezy sailing day. All the finest things."
With that recitation done, she exclaims, "Rebma! My grandmother is from there -- not a grandmother related to you, I don't think. My mother's mother, Coral. I thought her tales of Rebma were legend more than truth, but here we are." She snorts a laugh, then goes on. "It'll be the first place I go, when the maze is walked." Her voice softens. "Not that my grandmother is too happy with Rebma -- or anything -- of late. She returned in the deepest of glooms, and remains so now. Heart-broken. But -- that's a dark topic, and this is not a gathering for darkness. What did you both find most pleasing, most interesting about Rebma?"
Fletcher nods again. "I remember being very excited about my first visit to Rebma. It was one of my first formal state visits. I was with my parents. It was all very formal and exotic, and at times a bit tense." He looks to Delta. "But don't worry. Things these days are more relaxed since we have relatives living there now."
Edan enters, quietly, looking for the place that had undoubtedly been left for him. He looks better, in the sense that he's cleaned up and might have gotten a little rest. He's wearing a silken white tunic and trousers and slippers, shot through with a pattern in shining thread that reveals itself as the light catches it. His waist sash and turban are a crimson red.
Alex scootches over a bit, scraping his chair legs against the floor in the process. "Hey! Alex here, probably your cousin, liable to say anything at all at a moment's notice. For example I think I just agreed to wrestle a terrifying sworn enemy." He gives First a disarming smile, which for a human would indicate that he's just joking.
"My parents, uncles, aunts, and cousins are your sworn enemies. I have agreed with the Goddess Brita to work towards reconciliation." First doesn't say anything about being terrifying, which may be intentional. She stabs a prawn and is about to eat it. "Hello, Edan Ibn Bleys. Will you join us?"
Edan bows at the neck. "I would be honored." (Hoping there's some food actually at the table, if not he'll excuse himself to put something together.)
To Alex, he says, "Welcome. Probably a cousin? Well. Many of us come here, to the center of things, not knowing for sure. I am Edan ibn Bleys ibn Oberon al-Kehribar al-Salaam al-Djinn-al-Ghanii. I am fortunate, in that I have always known my family. Even if they didn't know me." He smiles.
"I don't know how you've managed to ensnare yourself into a wrestling match, but if First wrestles as well as she rides or fights, I wish you the best of luck."
"You flatter me, Sir Edan. I expect to learn quite a bit from Sir Alex." She looks at him. "Are you really the Mahdi that your followers think you are?" She spears another prawn, the last one on her plate. "If so, you're supposed to herald a golden age, followed by the end of the world."
"Followed is pretty ambiguous," says Alex, around a mouthful of fish. "I'd want to know how long was supposed to pass. Especially... man, I keep forgetting we live a while longer."
"I suppose everything is followed by the end of the world, eventually. But it said seven years," she says. "It does seem short."
Alex swallows. "Hey, I met your -- father I guess? Bleys? There was a ship and so on; he's a cheerful guy, at least to complete strangers."
"He's cheerful to most everyone. He's so good at everything that he doesn't need to be anything but charming," Edan says, opting to take the easiest response first. "I... excuse me, did you say end of the world? Who made this prophecy?"
She shrugs. "No idea, but I found it in a book in the Library, with the help of the librarian."
"I will need to follow up on that," Edan says, looking less happy. He didn't look all that happy to start. "Maybe it's already happened, with the black storms. Maybe not. In any case, I have never styled myself as a god or as a prophet. Many who have come here from the Land of Peace followed me before, when we fought the hamaaj. They remembered that alliance, came with me to honor it. To see the larger world I promised to show them."
"That's interesting. It's such an uncommon pattern in the relationship between leaders and followers." First turns to Alex. "I've never formally met Prince Bleys, but we've chatted." She turns back to Edan. "I like your assessment, by the way, and so would your father. I think he saw through my dissembling and gracefully ignored it."
Edan tries not to smile. "We've had our disagreements. Mostly, looking back, I can see that the foolishness of my youth was usually to blame." He turns to Alex and says, "I assume you grew up in... well, not here. Where are you from?"
Alex says, deadpan, "Earth." A beat or two. "OK, an Earth with computers, speedy travel, and guns. I wasn't much of anyone there, although... that bit you said about being good enough at things so your dad didn't have to work at it, that kind of made me think about myself. How about you?"
First turns to see how Edan answers that.
Edan blinks. "I..." he pauses, searching himself. "I don't think I've ever been asked that. Certainly, things have been easier for me that for some of my peers, the people I lead. But learning skills, perfecting them... Sorcery, or riding or swordplay... I would have to say no. I have had to scramble and claw for everything I have, everything I know."
Alex blinks back. "Huh. I guess... but do you have everything you want? Maybe it's more about your goals. I've never shot terribly high."
First looks from one man to the other. "If your parents did not tell you of your lineage, Sir Alex, then perhaps you were not raised with the same yardstick that Sir Edan was. Recall what he had to say about Prince Bleys."
Edan nods to First, says, "I seem to have found my niche as a knight of the Lamp, and I am here at the center of things. I have done a lot of traveling, and done a lot of things, and I can't say that I have made anything better. I think it's time for a little break. Subject to the pleasure of the king, of course."
First nods along. "What would a break look like for a Prince of Xanadu? I suppose you might consider getting captured by your hereditary enemies, but it's more of a working holiday."
"Maybe it's just wishful thinking." Edan looks down, toys with his food a moment. "I might be asked to go do something. I must find someone. I have duties here. I need to speak with the king about my status right now. I need to speak with the king about your status right now. It's a big jumble."
Alex studies Edan a bit, then says to First, "The parent wasn't my Mom, for sure, because she raised me. I'm guessing it's kind of common that one of us leaves a little bouncing immortal baby behind, maybe knowing it, maybe not. But yeah, I didn't have expectations like that. I was talking to some kid earlier and boy, he has his whole teenage years laid out in front of him. I'd have gone nuts."
She listens carefully and thinks about it. "There will be plenty of time to go mad later, since you're immortal. But there are so many cultures and ways of living in shadow, and in some a person who is twelve has already started learning a trade that will stay with her until she dies. I wonder, though, how young you and your peers in the wrestling entertainment business were when you seriously committed to athletics? Like being a warrior, it's likely to favor the young and strong and uninjured."
To Edan: "Hey, we just met and all, but that doesn't sound like a break. Being asked to go and do things and stuff. Screw wishful thinking, man. I always said if you needed a rest, better you should just take it than skip it and be tired and drop someone on their head the wrong way."
Edan says, "Well, there are places to go and people to find, and no one's going to do it for me. That is very good advice, though."
Alex beams cheerfully. "You don't have to take it or anything, I won't be insulted. I'm a total stranger. Tell you this, though, I'm gonna go nuts sitting around a castle even if it's cool, so if you have someplace to go and you want company... uh, I don't know if I have to do that big ceremony thing first? But anyway."
Alex stuffs some more food in his mouth, chews, swallows. To First: "I was 16, big for my age, and very restless. I got good pretty quick, by the standards of the guys I was hanging out with. Not unusual young."
First thinks on this for a moment. "It's an interesting way to think about shadows. Not about things like 'do they have firearms?' or 'do they know about waltinomeus substrata?', but 'how long are people considered children?' or 'how much training is required to be an adult of the tribe?'. It varies so widely, but it's important to knowing what to expect from the people of a culture.
"Take the boy you met here. He may be a special case, or he may be typical. In some places, waiting to decide until you were sixteen years would be scandalous, or it might be a sign that you were a person of extreme wealth."
She smiles. "If we were not a nomadic warrior people, I would probably be an inter-umbral sociologist. But I've been training for my role since a very young age, too...."
"What a fascinating field that would be," Edan says. "'Inter-umbral sociologist'. Making sense of the chaos, keeping hundreds of cultures straight in your head. Mine are so mundane, trying to look up to my father, I suppose. Swordsman. Equestrian. Sorcerer. Mathematician. Dancer." He looks to Alex and adds, "I'll remember. If you're free and Random is for the idea, I will look for you."
Alex offers Edan up a fist bump. "Big guy who can punch things. Thanks, man, I appreciate it. You know, I've been wondering all day what the test is, and I'm starting to think it's just something about 'can the new family member find his way around on his own or does he sit around waiting?'"
First raises an eyebrow, but says nothing.
Edan smiles, just a little, and says, "The test, right. The king runs that show, and I'm not sure that he doesn't make up something different for each of us. I think that's a story for him to tell." Edan looks up then, obviously noticing Martin approaching. Or maybe even wishing him to walk a little faster.
Martin picks up the pace, as if he'd rather be having the necessary discussion with Edan than doing something else, or perhaps in sympathy with Edan's expression. What he says on arrival is, "Cousins, Lady--or is it Dame? I'm sorry I don't know the correct titles."
"We consider titles fluid, Princemartin. 'Shieldsister of the Purest Water' is as good as any," replies First. "We are as a needle pulling a thread of all our past named selves."
"I need to borrow Sir Edan here on a matter of-- something between state and knightly honor, I guess. I hope you'll forgive me."
"Of course," says the Moonrider, gracefully. "Matters of necessity take precedence. Sir Edan, may you get your wished-for respite from obligations. Sir Alex, would you care to accompany me to the side table? We can give these two their privacy and get dessert at the same time."
Edan holds up a hand in farewell; a few seconds later he realizes that being friendly and casual to First still feels weird.
Alex pulls himself up, with good grace. "Sure -- tell me about what dessert looks like where you come from, First? Also, do you swap names around as easily as you swap titles? How does that work?"
"We have names. We don't use them. At least most of us don't. Not once you've earned a title. Titles tell you what someone has done. Your titles are your story. Edan first knew me as "Chases Madness" and then "First to the Fray", and then "First", because I was the first of my people to spend time with your family. And "Shieldsister of the Water Goddess" is due to my relationship with your cousin, Brita. You see the thread of what I have done in all that and it describes who I was and that implies who I am."
They arrive at the buffet. To one side are all the main dishes; meats and roasted vegetables. "I'm more partial to cheeses and fruits, rather than sweet desserts, but both are common enough." Fruits, cheeses, pastries and puddings are all well-represented on the sideboard as well.
"We tend to be nomadic, perhaps not entirely by choice, so in my home shadows dessert is not likely to be delicate or take too much time to prepare.
"And I'd like to learn of your home as well, Alex. It sounds as if they have not heard of Amber in it. How do you think they will react to your tales of the Fairytale Kingdom where you are the son of a Prince?"
"Oh, they'd lock me up in an asylum pretty quickly. Well, except there's no money for that any more so I'd wind up living under a bridge, which is never any fun."
He picks up a plate, dithers a bit, then indulges himself with the more familiar.
"It'd really upset people if we proved it. My country fought a war a while back to get out from under a King, and they're pretty touchy about it, so people would think I was trying to say I was better than anyone else. We're also pretty good at tracking where are people lots of video cameras? You know? So I think we would need to do another one of those rescues like the one Huon did, except the bad guys might be more ready for it. I think mostly it would wind up generating another war."
First takes several desserts; an orange and some grapes, and something Alex doesn't recognize. "Here, they accept that you are. Better, I mean. Does your home have Klybesians? It sounds like it could be fertile ground for their heresies. Was that how they found you?"
"Yeah, I noticed that. Lots of bows and so on."
He sighs, returns to the table with his plunder. "What sort of heresy? I'm not actually sure how they found me, but I guess there's something that'll show up to some people? I think maybe you could say 'hey, that big guy seems to be in really good shape and he keeps healing quickly, we should look more closely at him.' I mean, on my Earth, you'd just run some computer searches... do the Kleebians have computers? Like do they use them a lot?"
He shakes his head, thoughtfully.
"Like if I were a King here, I'd go to an Earth like mine and buy a big old data center and fill it full of computers and use it as an advantage. I dunno how, it's not my field, but it's just knowing things and it's always better to know things."
She nods. "To what advantage?" she asks, politely. "The monks are doing that, are they not?" She looks at him and tries again. "Amber's strength is trade: connections between people flow like water and Amber sifts out riches by making others rich.
"If you want to know what powers a city, or a culture, look to how it measures wealth and how it aspires to grow it. The conflict between the heirs of Oberon and Klybus is between people and trade on the one hand and takers of knowledge on the other.
"Amber is a bloody knife, in many ways, but it's not a gun, only useful for destruction."
Alex may get the impression that First doesn't like the Klybesians.
Alex looks flummoxed. "I guess... like... if I have to read a big long list of people and what they want, and then match it up to other people and what they have, it's... easier? Than doing it by hand? I dunno, I'd have to ask Weasel, I just punch people.
"Shadows have different rules. Not just different things people know, but different rules. What works in one may not work in the next. Some places have steam power, in others it just doesn't work. And in many, you can make a kettle of tea, but not generate motive power from a giant-sized teakettle. It doesn't scale up.
"Or sometimes it doesn't scale down. Computers, to be really useful, rely on miniaturization of components. If that's unreliable at a certain size, then nobody bothers making them.
"And you can't take them from shadow to shadow and have them work. I'd imagine it's been tried, and now no-one tries that anymore.
"People may use computers in shadows, but they can't safely use them between shadows, so they generally don't." She shrugs.
"Hey," he adds, determinedly changing the subject, "This initiation thing the family keeps talking about vaguely. Do you know what's up with that? Is it OK if I ask? Is it another test and they're just waiting for me to ask the King?"
First shrugs. "I wish I knew. And by that I mean 'I wish I knew how they do it here.'" She looks at Gerard. "It's a holy mystery rite, or it should be, but they don't talk about that here. Oberon and Amber, and by proxy Random and Xanadu, got crosswise with religion a long time ago. It's ancient history to my people, and to 90% of the people in this room.
"I don'tt think they'll let me watch you essay the ordeal, but I'd love to hear your notes on it, if you're willing to share afterwards."
Alex ponders his new multi-jointed friend, then shrugs, and says, "Sure. If they didn't want me making promises to nice informative people, they shouldn't let me have dinner with them."
She smiles. "After you do this, I will buy you dinner, perhaps in someplace less monolithic than the castle."
He frowns, and circles back. "But if you learn something in one shadow, it's not like you don't know it any more when you go to the next one?"
"You don't forget it. Shadow travel can change where you are, but it doesn't change who you are.
"You have to be careful about your stuff. There's a difference between a shadow culture which never discovered ink-and-paper and a shadow where ink doesn't adhere to paper. If you accidentally go to the first one, you can teach them to write. If you go to the second one, you've just erased your diary. Not that anyone goes to those shadows, if they exist. Shadows cluster and trade works best when there are similar interests."
First glances over at Martin and Folly and then back to Alex. "What is probably the most disconcerting thing for first time shadow travellers is what's different from shadow-to-shadow. Even if you know, even if you read up on the differences, the little implications are always the hardest part." She pauses. "Listen to me and my pretensions of scholarship." She shakes her head.
"Anyway, even if the monks have supercomputers in their home shadows, they probably use books and even oral traditions in many places, because they really can't count on using those devices everywhere. But I'd bet they use them where they can."
Alex nods, frowning a bit.
"OK. So... you got me thinking about how they knew to get me. I wish I knew more about this stuff. Are they... all hands on deck? Should I be worrying about anything else besides them?"
He shrugs, with a certain tired eloquence. "Thank you for answering the questions I don't know enough to ask."
"From what I know of them? Each group is independent, and somewhat competitive, although more collegial than cutthroat. "
First takes a deep breath. "They're traders in information. If they weren't the ones who had kidnapped you, you could go to them and ask them to find out how your kidnappers had found you. They'd ask an exorbitant price, usually in information they wanted, and you could expect an answer... eventually. And their trading partners seldom get the better of a deal.
"They're also traders for favors. If you need a tutor in a subject, they'll tutor you, or usually someone will tutor you who is getting a different favor from them.
"It's all very transactional." She says the word like it's distasteful. For a knight, it probably is. "They could've bought information from someone which led them to you. So your question should be around who knew about you and sold you out?"
Alex blinks slowly. "Wow. You know, someone could have asked me that earlier today... I mean, Mom, obviously, but I don't think she'd have done it on purpose. But I don't know if she knew all..."
He waves his hand around, and then does it again for good measure, because it's a lot.
"All of this. So maybe she'd have just traded a photo of my dad for something else, no big deal. You said they're the kind of people who're sneaky about deals. Crap, I gotta figure out who my dad is... uh. Is it always, you know, mom and dad? I hear people turn into unicorns sometimes around here, so I guess it could be mom and mom?"
Last modified: 7 January 2022