More Questions

When their card game of cosmic import with the Moonriders is over, and the groups are breaking up for a final rest before "morning" for an "afternoon" arrival in Ghenesh, Brennan gestures Raven off to one side and then into his command tent, or the tent the Knights set up for Raven. (They're efficient that way.) Brennan doesn't much care which, as long as it's away from prying ears and eyes.

"Interesting game they have," he says. "But before we talk about that, I was strongly considering approaching under formal devices or coats of arms. Among other things, that will signal to our hosts that this is not a social call, but something much more serious. I couldn't ask before, but, do you have a coat of arms and a banner for it?"

Raven shakes her head. "Not unless someone's made one for me and didn't bother to say so," she answers. "Only banner I've ever really been under has been the Navy's, and that ain't exactly appropriate here. To be honest, never really had a good grasp on how somebody'd get a coat of arms. Not exactly something I ever figured I'd need."

"All wrapped up in the problem that you haven't been presented at Court yet, because you haven't verified your lineage through Fiona," Brennan says. "I understand. How you personally would get one is probably by figuring out who the King has delegated to handle this stuff and, after your presentation at Court, give that person a design and ask them to verify it's not too close to anyone else's. There are other fiddly little rules they can help with, but that's the main one."

Raven nods.

"Using the Navy colors is maybe not a bad idea; you're not Caine or Gerard, but you are a captain in the navy. There's also the ask for forgiveness not permission approach, but it's not one I really recommend. Or just approach under my colors only, but I'm a little concerned that's going to send an unintended message-- but one way or the other, I still think this is a grave and formal enough situation to approach slowly and even ostentatiously under colors."

"A captain, aye, but this ain't exactly official Navy business," Raven answers. "And that's why I'm not sure about it. There's making a splash, which I'm pretty sure you're right about that needing to be a thing, and there's speaking for the whole of the Navy when I ain't been charged to do so. Not saying no, because I'm not sure there is another option without me spending more time than we've got thinking about it, but I'm not sure." She pauses, frowning. "Also, which Navy flag? Because I'm used to sailing under the Amber one, but Xanadu's got its own."

"Well, best judgment, I guess. Still time to conjure something if you want it, and I'll back your decision either way," Brennan says.

Raven nods. "Not the Jack," she says, a little more certainly. "Let me think on it from there, since we've got at least a little time, aye? I am getting the idea this ain't something I'll be getting out of in the long run, but I ain't got an off-the-cuff answer either. If I don't have something by the time we get there, then I don't have something."

Brennan nods. Although that seems likely to be less than 24 hours away, he doesn't press the issue.

"Another thing I wanted to ask was this, now that we're away from prying ears: How does your interpretation of that last card spread change if you apply it to Amber rather than Tir-na Nog'th?"

Raven frowns, clearly thinking. "I think I wasn't so much applying it to Tir as I was to the Queen herself," she says slowly, "but I think that'd cant me towards the reading Argalia gave - not the details about the queen, but the thoughts on the cards. So failed rebirth, into parting of the ways between Mother Amber and the new King, son of the old king." She pauses to snort. "And while I can't say as how I picked up on all the undertow in that conversation at the gazebo, I picked up enough to make a real good guess on who the new King's priestess will be. Usurper is still a warning, and that middle row is still annoying. Winter against strength - an ending against power. Whatever that means, it'd be interesting."

"I don't think the case of Tir-na Nog'th can be separated from its Queen," Brennan says. "Amber is less clear cut, but I obviously think it can or I wouldn't be proposing what I'm proposing. There do seem to be a lot of rebirths in this arena, though-- Corwin and Paris count, and even Rebma, if you squint at it right. I wonder if that's just the rebirth of Primal, manifesting in the rest of the original ones." He frowns in thought, but with a visible effort pushes that thought off for a later time.

"Whatever the cards answered, though, I know what I meant when I asked the question: I meant Tir-na Nog'th, and I meant Amber. If the Moonriders only saw one of those, so much the better. I don't know how much they know about what went on with Brand. But when I looked at that spread and thought about the Amber context, the reversed Creator jumped out at me as... me, potentially. I spent a long time estranged not just from Brand, but from the entire Family. And in the Amber context, the Priestess is probably Cambina." Brennan doesn't look too happy about that. He doesn't look too anything about that, intentionally so. "...Or the Unicorn. But I've never heard of her actually speaking to anyone.

"That middle row still confuses me and bothers me. I still think Winter is a good stand-in for the Queen. The Lion... I still don't understand that one. But the Fate card? That's still capital-C Chaos, I'll bet my life on it. But is it necessary for Amber or Tir-na Nog'th to be reborn in order to prevent the expansion of Chaos? Both? Is there a right one and a wrong one? Does Chaos only come with a failed attempt? It's a Rorschach test, anyone with a stake in it is going to see what they want to see, so I'm not even going to pretend to answer that one."

"Ain't ever heard of the Unicorn breaking up a duel, either," Raven points out. "'Speaking' doesn't always mean you're using words - sometimes trying to run 'em down is enough to make a point to somebody. Anyway, not going to argue with you about that Usurper being Chaos; pretty sure you're not wrong, or if you are, it's because there's something bigger and uglier than Chaos, which I'm just gonna hope ain't a thing when we've got enough other problems." She pauses, narrows her eyes, and then says, "Wait. Are you reading your Amber read as just the price of Amber being reborn no matter who pays the price, or are you reading it for the price of Amber being reborn if you specifically are the one that pays it? Because I think the only way to get at that Lion is to figure out if it's one of its actual meanings or if it's a bloody great cat, and which read you're reading - that'd matter, aye?"

"The cards are notorious-- inasmuch as supposedly inanimate cards can be-- for answering in contexts we don't necessarily have access to." He thinks back, trying to remember his exact mental state at that moment, frowns a genuinely uncomfortable frown, and says, "But. Well. I think I was thinking in terms of other people-- other than the Queen, maybe including the Moonriders, maybe not, I'm not sure-- paying the price for Tir-na Nog'th, and me paying the price for Amber.

"Why? Did you have a particular bloody great cat in mind?"

Raven shakes her head. "No, no actual cat - not that I remember anyway, or at least not the kind that'd apply here. Ship's cat ain't exactly the thing, and even if I don't know what to use for myself, I can't say I've seen anybody using cats on a banner recently. Or if I did, there were more important things going on. I was more thinking it probably matters whose idea of strength and power we're talking about - Tir's or Amber's or yours. Not real sure where I'm going with it, really, just know that what's strong on the docks ain't the same as what's strong on a ship ain't the same as what's strong up the hill where the nobles are."

"Ah, I see," Brennan says. He thinks about that. "Back to Argalia's observation about interpreting the question, except now interpreting the viewpoint. Well, you're not wrong and neither was he. But he was pretty conspicuously quiet about the Lion card, too. Sometimes those cards are less Virtue and Fault, and more The Competitors or just competing influences. My instinct is to shoehorn Amber into that role, but I just can't see how to do that. Not now, anyway. Maybe years ago, before the War, but not right now." He runs a hand through his hair, thinking. "Maybe Paris? Or maybe something generational-- the original four realms contrasted with the newer ones of Xanadu and Avalon?"

Brennan does not sound confident about that, but maybe they will strike other useful thoughts.

"You think he was quiet about it because he thinks it's Amber?" Raven asks. "Or because he's as confused by it as we are? I could kind of get there, I think, but it'd mean bringing the old King into it even though he's not there and assuming it means his family instead."

"My guess would be confused, not confident enough to speculate, less important than the Winter, something like that." Brennan thinks about that for a minute. "Well, maybe. He is pretty sharp, so maybe he's thinking of Amber because it is effectively dead and therefore a candidate for rebirth, too. But I'm skeptical. If we were using a full deck, and the cards meant Oberon, they could have just used the Oberon card. Or the Amber card for Amber. But I didn't really want to hand over even my partial deck." He shrugs.

"Divorced of any other context, my usual stand-in for Oberon, in my mind at least, is The King. I've never really given thought to who would stand in for Moins or the Queen, much less Charles. They might dispute Oberon as THE King in that sense."

"Aye, that'd make sense if the card meant him," Raven agrees. "Not quite where I was headed, though - look, male lion's 'king' of his family, right? But it is a family. He's got a whole group of ladies and a whole bunch of kids. And the one lion working alone is bad, but the whole pack of 'em working together... that, you've gotta watch out for." She pauses a beat and then says dryly, "And big nasty fights with collateral damage when power's changing hands. Some of this is less of a stretch to apply to the royal family than other bits, but that's where I was thinking it might be Amber. Strength in numbers. Strength in working together. That kind of thing. And I don't know if Argalia would've read it the way I'm suggesting, either, because it feels like I'm reaching. Wouldn't know where to start right now to pick a card on the other kings and queens - well, maybe Rebma and the Queen."

"Ah, interesting-- the Lion implies the Pride, with us and the Elders comprising the pride? Interesting. In this context, it's pretty grim and conjures up images of us and the Elders harrying the Queen and trying to tear her apart. But on that cheerful note, I have a suggestion, which is to call King Random and try to find out what our disposition here actually is. I started this journey just to get these guys out of our back yard and maybe to tweak the High Marshal's nose a little bit. But that was before he snatched Vialle away from Martin and Edan, so it's a little more serious now.

"But since I don't have a Random card, we'd have to call Folly and cross our fingers."

Raven considers that for about a heartbeat before she nods. "Aye, I'm good with that. 'Specially since it sounds like they're treating us a bit like diplomats here, whether you'd planned to be or not. Probably ought to have an official opinion on what we're supposed to do if we see her, too."

"Yeah, the scope got changed out from under us," Brennan says. "It happens."

Brennan pulls out his deck of cards, removes Folly's card from the deck, and places it on the table. He concentrates on it, and puts his hand conspicuously on the table also, so Raven can make contact and join in the conversation.

And Raven will do so.

After about a half-minute wait, Folly abruptly answers with "I was wondering wh--- Oh, hi, Brennan! Hullo, Raven.... Is everything all right?" She's peering into the contact as if readying herself to pull them through if they need a quick exit. She appears to be somewhere in Xanadu Castle.

"So far, so good," Brennan says. "But we're getting close to the actual place, where there might be decisions to be made. Seemed like a good time to check in. Don't suppose King Random is around?"

"Hello," Raven says. "And aye. Seems we might accidentally be official? Or they're treating us that way, anyway."

"There's rather a lot of that going around," Folly says with a wry grin and a healthy measure of sympathy as she begins moving at a brisk walk. "The King is kinging around here somewhere -- hang on...." She appears to be listening for a moment, and then turns decisively down a corridor in search of Random.

Random is exactly where Folly thinks he'll be, which is to say that he's in a salle doing saber exercises with Garrett's fencing master. Gilt Winter is there with a clipboard and every time someone scores a point, Gilt asks him a question and replies with whatever royal response is needed to it.

He's working up a sweat, or at least a sheen.

He notices Folly at the door and holds up a finger. He feints in sixte and ripostes in octave. The saber taps the fencing master on the thigh, and Random pulls back, grinning. Abd-allah acknowledges the touch with a salute and waits for the King to be ready to resume, or to dismiss him.

"Hey you!, how's the listing going?"

"Well, I just got another item added to it," Folly replies, and points at her head. "Incoming call for you -- Brennan and Raven. Good thing you've got this mobile phone." She gives him a lopsided grin and holds out her hand to him to join the contact.

"Good thing I like phone sex so much," he says, before taking her hand. His finger lightly taps in a basic rhythm while she holds his hand to keep the contact going.

She gives his hand an affectionate squeeze, then turns her attention to the contact with a small effort of will to keep from being distracted.

Random appears in the Trump contact with Folly. His hair is slightly disheveled as if he's been exercising. He nods at the two, dismissing any formalities amongst family.

"So, did you make it to Moonrider-ville?"

"Less than a day away, Majesty, for whatever values of 'day' apply, here-- we're out far enough that the sky is multicolored. So it seemed like a good time for us to check in, because what started out as a way to get their commanders safely away from us for a while and maybe do a little recon in the bargain, now has a little more gravitas to it. We have reason to believe that one or all of the following will be there when we arrive: The High Marshall, Vialle-and-passenger, and that Chain thing."

"...which means you're now suddenly on a combination fact-finding/ diplomacy mission," Folly says. "I know what my questions are on the fact-finding side, but they're probably mostly the same as yours. If they're, ah... looking for a hostage exchange... we should check with First to make sure she's done being a hostage. Among other things." She looks at Random.

"Also sounded like they might be open to discussing and maybe acting against what that passenger's been up to instead of just blindly following, sir," Raven adds. "At least enough to ask us to tell the story to their priests."

Random looks a little pained at the mention of priests. "Make sure they're not just there to decide if it's heresy, blasphemy, apostasy, or all three. We're still dealing with our religious mess, and I'm sorry you're getting tangled up in someone else's.

"If they'd like to make reparations for the outrages we've been so temporarily tolerant of, we'd be most interested in learning information about those putzes who call themselves the Klybesian Order.

"And definitely find out what the deal with First is, from their point of view. We're getting her point of view ourselves." Random looks at Folly; it’s on the list.

Folly nods.

"If you're looking for my royal blessing to talk on my behalf, you got it. I hereby name you Ambassadors Extraordinary and Plenipotentiary of The Court of the Unicorn. You can decide amongst yourselves which of you is Extraordinary and which is Plenipotentiary."

Brennan doesn't react much to that physically, but through the Trump his sense of surprise is apparent. Evidently, he knows what "plenipotentiary" means. "We're honored, Majesty."

Raven, on the other hand, isn't entirely familiar with the word, but 'extraordinary,' she knows, so she just nods and says, "Aye, sir."

Random waves airily. "I still have to approve the deal, but you've got a lot of leeway, because I don't give a crap about their reasons for going to war with us. They can't have anyone's head, and they can't destroy the universe or attack us. Does that give you some parameters to work with?"

"So far, we've avoided the topic of First-to-the-Fray, at least with the three Moonriders we've been travelling with: Sirs Argalia, Vigil, and Unsheathed. As for hostage exchanges, you're thinking V? I hadn't even thought of her as a hostage to be exchanged. But this is one of the big reasons we called, to understand what her status is with Xanadu and what Xanadu's attitude toward her is. Is she-- at least preliminarily-- a hostage? A dupe? A willing conspirator? An active danger that would need Bleys and Fiona to contain her? To be blunt, do we want her anywhere near this end of things to begin with, or should she be kept away at all costs? Would she go on trial? Be swiftly executed for treason?" All of those seem to be real possibilities to Brennan.

"It remains to be seen whether they, or she, think she's being held against her will any more than our 'hostage' is," Folly says. "But... you mentioned the Moonriders seem very much to be people of honor. It occurred to me they might look on such an exchange as a symbolic act of goodwill. They may or may not know just how... complicated it is." She leaves it to Random to start to address the question of Xanadu's attitude toward the situation.

"How much of that part where it's complicated we ought to bring up with them is a question too," Raven agrees.

Random shifts and sounds more serious. "There has been no final judgement rendered in the matter of Vialle. I don't know if she acted intentionally against me. If the only options are that she committed treason or that she was used as a weapon against us, she's either a criminal or a danger, and she's not going to be allowed to continue in either role.

"So, we're not negotiating for her free return to Xanadu."

Folly nods grimly. "I hope there'll be an opportunity to find out more, when you're talking with them about the actions of their queen, and their take on the situation."

"We've more than broached the subject of what Queen-- or Queens, depending on how you want to look at it-- was doing, and they haven't so much brushed it off so much as diverted the topic until we talk to their assembly of semi-religious monks," Brennan says. "And I gather that while it is not unheard of for a given Moonrider to rebel against their liege for the sake of law or honor, I don't get the impression that it is very common. A rebellion against the Queen herself? I'd count us as pretty successful if we came away with even one, let alone a handful. But who knows, we've only been in touch with these three, so I'm going to give it a good try."

"They at least made it sound like we won't be wasting our breath on trying," Raven observes. "Seemed like they found what we told 'em pretty distasteful."

Random nods. "Me, too."

Looking back at King Random, Brennan asks, "And I take it that access to Tir is still considered off limits, and that any attempts are further acts of war?" Brennan's tone of voice makes that an actual question, looking for a confirmation or a denial.

Random blows out a breath, thinking. "I dunno. It sits at the strategic location of 'right over our friggin' heads', which makes the bar to allowing that high. I don't want to be 'the King who let the enemy live uphill from him and got invaded and sacked again'. So far I'm at zero Moonrider Invasions to Dad's one, and I like that score."

He pauses. "It's not 'never', but it's definitely not 'while we're enemies'."

Brennan nods: "Understood. But... about the Sack of Amber, I have information that was surely new to me, and I think might be new to everyone. The army which seemingly conjured itself from nowhere to sack Amber were the remnants of the people of Tir-na Nog'th who had been trapped there, for however many centuries between that and the episode where hundreds of thousands fell from Tir to their deaths in the Bay of Amber." He shudders, unsure whether it's better to fall and die like that, or be trapped for centuries in a timeless void. "The entrapment may have been a last-ditch attempt to save those few from falling to death. I've never heard a single word of anyone being trapped up there, let alone a whole population."

"They also," Brennan's expression makes it clear he is not on board with what's coming up, "somewhat dispute that what they did after their release constitutes a sack. May be worth getting First's take on some or all of that."

Folly nods. "Definitely. There's clearly more to this story than what we've heard from our side. And you know I'm always looking for a path to peace." She regards Brennan through the contact. "I'll see what First has to say about it. I trust you to handle whatever this meeting with the Moonriders throws at you, but you've got my card if you need backup, or another perspective."

Random listens as well. "Or an escape, if you need to get out of there in a hurry."

He sighs. "There are a lot of pieces we don't have, and the ones we have are from a different jigsaw puzzle that someone wanted us to solve wrong. You've heard there are at least two older splinter groups of Moonriders, right? The Altamarians, which includes Conner's father and one of Paige's household dudes. Not her main guy, right now, that's Hannah's father. And Eric's Weir, who Martin just took for a boat ride. We're apparently getting diplomatically friendly with them.

"So, yeah, I'd really like the 3 minute pop song version of 'What The Hell Is Going On?', if you all can figure it out."

Folly's eyes widen in surprise at the mention of the Weir, and she looks at Random. What slips out, under her breath, as she ponders that little tidbit along with what she knows of the legends of the Weir, is "...In Weirmonken, moon rides you...?"

Random nods, as if that's meaningful to him. "That would be a good story to get more of, yes."

When Random brings up the Weir as an offshoot of the Moonriders, that unmistakably gets Brennan's attention. "The Weir, you say. How interesting. I knew about the Altamarians, and have met some of them. It might be worth sending someone out that way to renew ties as well, if Bleys hasn't already done it. But speaking of allies, we-- Raven and I and the Moonriders-- met Clarissa near Fiona's Tower. It could not have been a chance encounter. She tells us that her forces, the Bronze Legion-- grackleflints-- have seen that the Moonriders are on the move. So much the better that two of us are going there, to see what that means. I think there's an opportunity for an entente with the Legion, and I have the means to follow up on it, so I plan to do so as soon as possible once we're done in Ghenesh." Whenever the heck that might be.

"Oh," Brennan says, "and Grandmother would like Edan to know that she wishes to meet her new great-grandchild."

Random smiles, bit not kindly. "Does your Grandmother want to come visit us in Xanadu and see her offspring? I'm sure she'd get on like gangbusters with Hannah."

Raven, who absolutely has not spent most of Brennan's recitation resignedly swearing to herself somewhere behind her well-worn 'sailor reporting to a superior' facade at the appearance of a possible reason that her parentage could become a pressing issue in the near future, nods. "Right, and there was something else at the tower. Big dead dragon with a sword in its eye, and I'm told the sword belongs to you, s - Majesty. The Moonriders were interested in it and if it was important somehow, which seemed like reason enough not to give it to 'em. Is that something we need to make sure comes back with us, or...?"

"Did it look like it was smashed with a big rock? I'm pretty sure I just conjured that sword, but yeah, hand it on through. We'll put it in the trophy room, between the giant penny and the bottle city of Kandor."

Raven snorts. "Smashed? Aye, I suppose. 'Buried' works too - there were a lot of rocks." And with that, she will hand the sword over.

Folly glances at Random for his go-ahead; if he's willing, she takes the sword, gives it a quick once-over for any interesting characteristics, and ends by tapping the toe of her shoe lightly against the blade and suspending it next to her ear to listen. (After all, if he conjured it, there's a reasonable chance it could double as an instrument....)

It's like a tuning fork. A432. She doesn't have to put it near her ear to hear it. It rings.

"Hey, I didn't know it did that!," says Random. "We'll put 'Naming the Sword' on our to-do list. Sword like this ought to have a name."

Folly nods. "Maybe it only does it here," she says, "or at least closer to Order. Better resonances."

She turns her attention back to Raven and Brennan to see if they have more to discuss.

Raven shrugs. "Can't say I tried tapping it when I found it," she says. "Was a bit busy not floating off to who knows where in the mouth of the corpse it was stuck in. Everybody else's just looked at it, really. Not sure the Moonriders know whose sword it was - I know I didn't."

Brennan shifts uncomfortably, then says, "There is one other thing." He very obviously had been hoping someone else would bring it up. "Vialle is still, as far as we know, with child. There's some speculation from Edan that it's the unborn child that is, in some way, the Queen of Air and Darkness. Either she is or she isn't, I don't know. Maybe we can try to corroborate or get more details... somehow. But either way that's a problem. I don't expect that we can solve whichever problem we have, but if we know your thoughts on the matter hopefully we can avoid making it worse."

Random looks pained. "It's a problem if she's preggers and it's the Moonrider Queen. It's not not-a-problem if she's preggers and it's just a kid. I may not be my father's most ruthless son, but I can't see dashing an infant against the rocks as a move I'd make, so that's off the list. And I'd like to think the vast majority of my siblings wouldn't do it, either.

"I'd like to find out what they would do if she was back, particularly if you've succeeded at driving a wedge between them and her with your honesty and basic decency song and dance.

"And in the end, any peace we make needs to have an understanding about her in it, even if we cut her out of it and just make peace with the Moonriders."

He squeezes Folly's hand. "That's the hard but open to discussion part of your ambassadorial assignment. It's not all tea and crumpets."

Folly returns the squeeze. She looks a little pale.

"Understood," Brennan says. "I had to bring the topic up, though."

Raven just gives a quick, if sober, nod of acknowledgement

Having left Carina to continue her recuperation, Delta steps out into the grand hallway and shuts the door to the archivists' temporary quarters behind her. Her cards are safely in their pouch and hidden pocket.

She walks to wherever the sunlight shows brightest, perhaps at the end of the long hallway. Outside, the water glitters, sea-birds ride the currents, and ships prepare to unload or depart. She could gain a berth on any of them, she knows. Speak her lineage, speak her skills, and board a ship for nowhere in particular, away from questions and kin and concerns. What need has she of kin and concerns? She could leave her cards with one of her newly-met cousins and be gone.

But. Coral brought her a mirror when she was a little girl, festooned with shells and unknown gems. Coral helped her learn the tricks of free-diving, of holding your breath so long while pushing deeper into the black undersea. Coral buoyed her after her first lover's defection and her first loss in the sparring circle.

It takes her a moment to notice the page a respectful distance away, a look of polite enquiry on their face. "Take me to Huon, if it's allowed," she says after a nod in return. "If it isn't, take me to whoever allows things, and I'll take it up with them."

The page nods towards her, and "If you'll come with my, My Lady. The Steward will know where Prince Huon is." It's not clear if she doesn’t know or if she thinks she may need permission.

The page leads Delta to a main hall near a grand double stairway. She asks another page or Understeward where Prince Huon can be found and that steward provides them.

Huon is in the garden, just off the main terrace. He's lying on a couch under the sun, just resting and reading a book out loud. There are two Rebma archivists with him, listening to him read. They don't seem at all like prison guards.

He rises when Delta comes out and puts a bookmark in the volume he's been reading from. "Hello Delta. Did they send you to recuperate in the garden as well?"

If observant, Huon will probably notice Delta's look of surprise -- no matter that Carina said Huon was working with Celina now, perhaps Delta is surprised how not-punitive this whole garden set-up is. The expression fades quickly, though, replaced by a crooked half-smile. "No. I came looking for you."

He smiles, "Welcome to this corner of Xanadu. There are refreshments in the bar over there. I can't imagine how this place will be in the summer, if it's warm enough to sun ourselves here at the new year."

She tilts her head toward the book he just closed. "What do you read?" The archivists get a small wave.

Huon nods and one of the archivists gets up and goes to the bar. "Would you like something, My Lady? I can send for anything specific you'd prefer if it’s not in the bar."

"Mm? Something cold, eh? Best thing about this place, is that I can get something with ice in it. And bubbles." She says 'ice' with glee, magic substance that it is.

Huon glances at the book. "My companions and I are archivists, which is to say that they are professionally, and I am a dabbler. I'm reading them histories of Amber and they're setting them to memory.

"And we're taking in the sun. It's an exotic experience for Rebmans."

"Suppose so," Delta says after a few seconds' thought. "And Rebma's why I came. Rebma and you, and questions you might want asked in private? I don't know, but I'll at least offer the option before my mouth runs away with me."

"Oh, please don't hold back. My companions are also my gaolers and make the queen feel better about the terms of my incarceration by spying on me for her." The remaining Rebman archivist nods idly in agreement.

"You may remember how difficult it is to keep our family in a jail cell, and the only jails that can hold us are as large as shadows, or as small as thrones. So Celina imprisons me with my own word."

The first archivists arrives back with a tray of drinks and a selection of bottles. Huon offers Delta her choice of the brown, clear or orange bottles, and takes an orange one himself. The archivists each take a clear bottle and drink them through straws.

Delta follows Huon's lead in snagging an orange bottle, though the archivists get an odd look for their strange drinking tubes.

She takes a swig and seems lost in thought for a few seconds after. Finally she says, "I did not know I would have to speak to you with an audience. Silly of me, eh? Gaol is gaol, even if it's a pretty courtyard. Or your word."

It is a delicious, fizzy, cold orange flavor, but with an exotic addition. It's non-alcoholic, but it would make an excellent mixer.

She shakes her head once, like a decision made, and asks something other than what she originally meant to say. "Will you tell me of it? Your attack on the city? Why you attacked it, and why you now submit so...calmly? I know I don't have the right to ask, not really. I wasn't there. No one hurt me. But ...it's important, regardless."

Huon nods. "I can do that. But will you tell me what you learn of yourself and your role in this family, no matter what it is you learn? Rebma is the watery tomb of many secrets, and she guards them closely.

"I envy you the mysteries you’re undertaking to unravel."

He waits to see if she agrees to his terms before beginning his tale.

Delta drinks again before answering; she's clearly enjoying the drink. She wipes her mouth with her sleeve and says, "Fair position for bargaining. Question, though. Whatever I tell you is overheard, yes? For the time being? What surety do I have that our private business would remain so?"

She glances at the nearby archivist and raises a brow. "No offense, eh? But I'm barely out of ...ha, the tadpole stage, here. I've no idea what I might learn and who ought to hear it."

Huon looks at the archivists, and the two of them take their drinks and head for the door. "Tell us about any treason you plot after we return, your Highness," says the first archivist. Huon swats at her, but she dodges away and the two women close the door behind themselves.

Delta snorts a quiet laugh at the archivist's quip. She remains silent thereafter until she and Huon are alone.

"Our kinsmen pride themselves on not bothering to lie to each other. The conceit is that it isn't necessary to do so because no one can interfere with their plans even if they know of them. Notwithstanding our unending capacity for self-deceit, it's not true, of course. But I don't have any reason to lie to you, so I won't.

"I'm not anyone's favorite brother or uncle, for reasons of choices I made that seemed right at the time. We'll get into that in a moment. I certainly don't want to dig myself in any deeper."

"That said, then aye, I'll tell you what I find out. No lies either." She drinks again, wipes her mouth again, and proceeds. "So far, all I know is that my mother's mother -- so not your kind, but hers -- has a Rebman bastard's name, gave me my Trumps, and told me of Rebma when I was young. And not long ago, she came back from a sojourn there weighed down with cares. Silent cares, unshared. She's a shell of who she was, and I've no desire to see her stay that way."

She sets down her bottle and taps her fingers on the arm of her chair. "But she gave me my Trumps, eh? That's not something I suppose she picked up at any market. So as you start your tale, you should know that I wonder if she was one of your fellows in conspiracy. Or, if she opposed you and feels grief from that. I don't know. I don't assume. I just ask."

"Most Rebman woman don't have much use for men, politically, It's a matriarchy, and men either serve in the armed forces or are married off. They run the estates and the production, but external relations, both political and in trade, is women's work. It's easy to find similar things in shadow, but it's not the way things were in Amber or shadows near Amber, so it seems exotic." He shrugs. "Who and what your mother's mother is will matter more in Rebma than in Xanadu. In Xanadu, Random will be interested in who your father is, and how that fits into the constellation of his brothers and sisters.

"Family etiquette says that, as the younger, I am entitled to hear from you first, and then after you've answered to me, I can respond to your questions. We're not doing it that way. Not the least of reasons is that you don't know the answers yet." He lifts his glass in her direction.

Huon leans in towards her, the cadence of his voice nearly mesmerizing. "So, your question, very delicately asked, can be restated as 'how did you, Huon, Prince of Amber, find yourself leading an army against Rebma in a war where literally every one you're related to was on the other side?' The answer is 'step by step', and it starts with my father."

Delta's a curious woman from a storytelling culture -- "nearly" mesmerizing turns into absolutely mesmerizing. She leans forward, elbows on her knees, and cups her chin in her hands. It's a pose of rapt attention, and she doesn't interrupt or interject until the opportunity is made explicit.

"Oberon, King of Amber was Amber. The land and the King were one. It's not a mystical metaphor or magical bullshit. He was significantly larger than life in all things, and when he was an ass, he was a tremendous ass.

"We didn't get along over many things, but he did acknowledge me as his son. I didn't like the treatment of my sister Ysabeau. Bo was treated more strictly and less fairly than I was, and it wasn't just that she was a girl. I butted heads with the old man, but she never let up.

"To be fair to him, things he warned her not to do eventually killed her," he shrugs. "She's got kids, though, and I sometimes see her in them. I do my best not to tell them about it. They're still mad at me about Rebma."

He leans back. "So I fought with him, trying to protect my family. My mother, my brother, my half-sister." He pauses. "The way things work here, we don't really pay a lot of attention to full versus half siblings; the former is more of an exception than the latter.

"But I digress. I, also, made a decision that he'd warned me not to make, except instead of me dying, someone else did. My brother, Pino. It was the last straw for Oberon, King of Amber and Everything. He ordered me to be banished, forever, and his executioner, my brother Prince Bleys, carried out the sentence.

"I was taken to a place that was pleasant enough, but that I absolutely could not leave, despite all my knowledge and power. Sarn. It was as big as any shadow, but it was a cell for me." He pauses. "Remember this place, it will come up again later.

Huon shifts. "Do you know about Bleys' rebellion? If you don't, I need to make a digression."

"I don't," she says after a few seconds of silence. It's as if she's swimming out of deep water and just emerging -- blinking -- into light. "I -- gods, that's a lot. And that's my grandfather. Blazes. Anyway, I've only met Bleys for a moment, so I've no idea about any rebellion of his. Was it against your father as well? Was it about your imprisonment?"

She hushes herself with a harsh 'pssssh' of a noise. "Apologies, kinsman. You'll get to it when you get to it. Don't speed through the tale on my account." And with that, her chin drops into her cupped hands again; she's ready to hear more.

"Oh, I'm enjoying the telling. Even though there are parts that make me look bad or worse, foolish." He leans in, creating a circle of intimate communication with his audience of one.

"Bleys is closer to his full brother and sister than most of us. They formed a trio. He was Oberon's enforcer for many years, taking the job from Caine. Oberon rewarded him with a sword that made him nearly unbeatable. A blade made of the Great Pattern.

"I too, was a rebel of sorts. Or at least I engaged in principled resistance to my father when he was fighting with my sister Bo. But I crossed a line. I took a risk and tried to protect my youngest brother, Pinobello, by giving him the family gifts he was entitled to. Father had forbidden it, the way he'd forbidden Bo from what she dreamed of. I was convinced he was wrong, and selfishly denying my brother his heritance.

"Pino died on the pattern, in front of me, and I had to tell my father." He pulls back, opening the space between them. "He already knew. Because I had arranged it, I was responsible."

Delta's movements echo Huon's; she sits straight when he does.

"I was exiled, taken by Bleys to a prison shadow of his devising. He dueled me first, to make it clear to me that I could not beat him with sword, magic, or pattern. He had been charged with keeping me imprisioned. Which he did, by checking in once, then leaving me to rot.

"I was not a model prisoner, for all that the prison was an entire shadow. At times I was the king, at times I was no one. And I plotted my revenge against Bleys, for years.

"For centuries it was futile, for I could not leave the shadow I was in. All roads out also led back in. I was comfortable, but not free.

"But I did eventually get out. Or more precisely, I was let out. Who do you think freed me?"

"Bleys, eventually," she says. "You called it a rebellion, eh? And you speak of his executioner ways as in the past." She tilts her head. "Though I've met but the tiniest fraction of this big, sprawling kin. Am I correct?" Before he can answer, she's up in pursuit of a bottle of that orange-flavored fizz. He can keep talking and see that she listens just as avidly as before -- but the storyteller's throat should never be dry, at least where she comes from.

She fills his glass and sits again, hopefully without interrupting his response.

"When my keepers return, we'll have them give you the genealogy of the Children of Oberon—living, dead, and speculative. That's the kind of thing they do too well."

He drinks from the orangey fizz.

"No, it was Oberon himself who freed me. Bleys and his sister used what they learned of goalkeeping from what they did to me to devise a prison to keep Father entrapped. It went wrong almost immediately, although they didn't know that. Father was able to reach and free me, in exchange for certain promises. I was, I think, his backup plan. I was sent to a shadow to lay low until either he sent for me or they killed him."

"That was where I met Brij and Pelle, trying to find other allies who might not be corrupted by the Bleysianic conspiracy. She's still around the palace, so you might meet her here. She's amongst the best people I know, although she has atrocious taste in men, myself included.

"You will have to ask one of the survivors of the conspiracy what they knew of when father escaped or how they fell to internal betrayal. I know it happened, and am not on orange-fizz terms with the perpetrator to discuss the matter." He raises his glass towards Delta.

"So, there I was having gone to shadow to gather allies in case my siblings killed my father. Allies presented themselves and I worked with them, for a time. We brought the war to people who were allies of the patricides, or so I thought. My allies were enemies of the Princes of Amber. Given how many of them were working with my brother Bleys, it seemed appropriate. I took risks and did damage to Danú and Asiria, and Bellum, and probably a half-dozen more places that were between me and my and we fought within sight of the walls of Rebma.

"We failed to breach the walls of my now-home, and retreated in disarray. Like my opponents' conspiracy, mine was brought down by backstabbing amongst my allies. Also by Amber's reinforcements of Rebma, to be honest. Your generation has a knack for swarming problems in a way that mine was reluctant to learn.

"Do you know who I was allied with, at the end?"

Delta's expression shifts in ways that might be gratifying for a story-teller: surprise, interest, worry. She answers Huon's question with, "If I guess, I'll get it wrong," accompanied by a wry smile. She adds, "Before we go on -- my sympathies for the death of those close to you." She thumps her chest over her heart with a closed fist, twice.

She tilts her head once she's set her hand back down in her lap. "Go on, go on. But I ask a question for you to answer now or at the end: do you regret it? Any of it? Warlords like you don't ever have to regret much. But do you wish it was you who held Rebma now, and not Celina?"

"Thank you for your kind thoughts. It has been centuries, but I miss my closest kin. Did you want to know if I regret my decisions or if I regret the outcomes? I am not a brooding prince, as some of my brothers are wont to be. Rebma would not tolerate a King, even by conquest, so that was not a consideration. My goal was to take the city, take the sword, and leave. Did I mention the sword? It turned out that it was already in the hands of Khela.

"I don't think I've mentioned this part yet. Celina wasn't Queen of Rebma when I made my move against it. Her mother, Moire, was Queen and had been for many years, but not as many as Oberon was King of Amber. Khela was her niece and had not been treated well.

"Khela raised an army to attack Rebma and install herself as Queen, and she had done what I was attempting, which was to find the Sword of Lir. She found herself with an army at the Gates of Rebma while her aunt the Queen had fled before my forces. Instead of being an invader, she was a triumphant hero, and used her loyal troops to establish herself as Queen in the vacuum caused by Moire's flight.

"When we are done with this tale, we can discuss how Corwin brought an army to the gates of Amber and used his forces to drive off enemies besieging the city, was a triumphant hero, and used his loyal troops to establish himself as King in the vacuum caused by Eric's death. Or nearly effectively did so. Oberon's return spoiled his reign as regent. The parallel is fascinating, both in what was similar and what was different. The city below is a mirror image of the city above, but the reflection is imperfect, 'we see through a glass, darkly'." He looks up.

"But that is all digression, I suppose. No, the driving force behind the allies I had found were the same Klybesians we found ourselves the prisoners of. Or, more precisely, a different branch of the same organization. I suspect that they have some access to our powers, which is worrisome. They are famous hoarders and bargainers for information, which makes them dangerous enemies, even for us.

"They were not actively opposed to us until the Black Road descended and they splintered. Not all of them are apocalyptic death cultists. Just the ones who kidnap us."

Delta considers this at some length. "So you were duped, or went willingly into the Klybesian alliance? If you went willingly, they certainly treated you poorly at the end." There's no judgment in her voice; she sounds merely curious.

"Betrayed, perhaps. Or our mutual enemies found ways to subvert most of the people I had allied with. But perhaps duped, if they had planned it. I think of them as opportunists more than deep plotters. And I also suspect that they are even more factional and divided than we are."

"I'll ask about the Black Road and the rest when you're done. But, one question I can't keep in until then -- do they have a Pattern, the Klybesians?" She shrugs. "It's your way to power, eh? That and the bloodline? Besides, with all of you spreading seed like mad, could at least some of them have a drop or ten of the Family blood?"

"I don't think they do, but then I didn't think Benedict did, and then it turns out I was wrong. And I don't know that we've spread our seed that madly. I suspect that Father discouraged it, magically, as it were. Which is why you have such a large generation, but your grandfather was thousands of years old and there were not forty generations between you. But the horse is out of the barn door, as it were and there are dozens of you.

"They traffic in information, and are descendants of literal priests who worshipped the unicorn. We were probably, to at least some sect of theirs, just troublesome demi-gods who it was important to use for information and avoid the wrath of. Until we almost destroyed all the worlds. That was the end result of Bleys' conspiracy, even if perhaps he wasn't in favor of that outcome."

Delta blinks at that, the near-casual mention of having almost destroyed all. "I hope he wouldn't be, eh? Why's he sailing free while you're minded by archivists in fancy gaol? And... wait. Who were you allied with at the end? I keep interrupting you."

As soon as she admits that, though, she does it again. "What of the sword? Do you still want it? Or does Celina have it now? And the Black Road?" Her eyes aren't quite glazing over yet, but the sheer weight of information is clearly starting to overwhelm.

"It hangs at the side of your cousin Conner, Fiona's child. He's a Duke in Rebma, I believe. For Rebmans, the important things are that he's Fiona's child and she's a powerful Amberite witch And that he's been given Lir's sword to protect the kingdom. Frankly, I think he's smart to stay away from Rebma as much as he does, or he'd find he couldn't visit a pub without tripping over his suitors. There's a type of Rebman woman who finds men in power highly interesting.

"Let me sort through your questions, and see if I can clear those things up. Bleys timed his double-cross of his allies much better than I did. Or else his reconciliation with our Father was the price of Fiona's help in restoring the pattern. I haven't had the opportunity to ask him, nor do I think he'd give me the pleasure of an answer." He metaphorically puts that question aside.

"In the absence of my father, I am reassessing my position, as it were. Things that would have caused me to immediately rebel when I was a young man don't seem to have the immediacy any more. I'm willing to accept restrictions from the King and Queen on my actions, as long as they aren't my parents, with all the baggage that came with that." He shrugs.

"A few decades of imprisonment will make that possible, and let other people also reconcile to my continued existence. If I occasionally am allowed heroic efforts such as rescuing captives from Klybesians, then so much the better. It adds to my legend."

"Do a few decades pass quickly, these days?" she asks, and then, "And wait -- which king, which queen? Is Random over everyone, or does Celina answer only to Moire and Moire only to herself? As for the rescue -- thank you. I've said it before, but again, thank you." He receives a hand-over-heart salute.

"One thing you'll learn is that we are, historically, somewhat opportunistic. Princes of Amber don't do anything for just one reason. I would have rescued you if I hadn't suspected you were a kinswoman, because I was offended by the Klybesians' behavior towards me and my charges and felt like wrecking everything they were doing. And because I wanted to learn what they'd taken you for. And because I wanted to keep my brothers and nieces busy sorting you out when we got back. And because I thought the Klybesians might be right and you might be kin, and I wasn't going to let them get away with that.

"In other words, you're welcome, and it was an easy choice to make."

Delta's lips then curve into a smirk. "I lose my home and my berth, then gain unicorn and underwater kin, magic cards, and a title. It's an odd trade."

Even as she ends the sentence, the smile slips away. "How the blazes do I visit home?"

Huon is about to reply when the door opens.

A page finds her way into the garden. "Lady Delta? Prince Gerard sends his compliments and asks if you'll attend on him and Queen Celina and Prince Merlin in his suite, please."

The prince nods his head. "You should go see them. They may have a more immediate answer, but you are welcome to come ask me more when you are done with them."

Delta's brows furrow in irritation at the interruption, and she rises slowly to her feet. "Right now? Ah, all right." She downs the rest of her orangey fizz, stretches, and cracks her neck first in one direction and then the other.

She then points at Huon. "And I'll be back, you can be certain of that. You're good with a tale." He gets a brief hand-over-heart salute before turning to the page. "Aye, course I'll go see the Princes and Queen. Lead on, though? This place is still maddening." She waves the page ahead of her in a 'let's gooo' sort of gesture.