Conner spends some time before his departure touching base with the various spies, magicians, and Tritons under his remit to remind them of their tasks and see that they have instructions to carry on on the tasks they were given. Once he feels reasonably certain that the Queendom will not collapse for a few days at least (allow 1 day to a decade for this), Conner calls for a bag to be packed for him with provisions for the journey to Paris.
As his sister has taken the Seaward Route he will go landward and take ship from Paris to the Land of Peace. It will let him check in with Corwin and Flora on the Moire situation and check up on that statue/not statue in the place in-between realms.
After a two day climb up the stairs inside the cave, Conner finds himself pushing aside the vegetation that both screens and signifies the Paris end of the Failla-Bionin. He is noticed by a watcher, who recognizes him, and is offered a horse to ride to the palace. The palace is magnificent and open to the air, which is full of chestnut blossoms.
Conner is escorted to the gardens, where he finds Corwin and Flora with a small circle of courtiers. With him, is Garrett, who steps over to intercept Conner. "Well met, Cousin. I didn't expect to see you here." The boy smiles, and Conner sees, perhaps, more maturity in his bearing than he had when last they met. Perhaps it's merely confidence.
Corwin waits for the pair to approach his pavilion. Conner can see croquet mallets and other gaming materials behind the King.
"The surprise is mutual but it is a welcome one." Conner smiles back and offers him a hand clasp. To give them a little time to talk, Conner walks unhurriedly towards the waiting monarch and Aunt. "What brought you to Paris?" Conner inquires.
"I'm following a path to Gateway. Jerod needs some supplies imported and I'm supposed to seek them out and bring them to Port Thule," Garrett explains. "Dad thinks it's a good and relatively low-risk job to teach me how to do things. He said something about 'training wheels' and I had to ask him what he meant."
Conner chuckles. "Not much call for bicycles in Amber though they could become popular here. I expect skateboarding in Xanadu." Conner smiles. "Well, we might be able to help each other. I too have come to Paris to take ship into Shadow on a fact finding mission for Queen Celina."
Garrett nods. "I have a ship. What facts are you trying to find? If we're going to the same places, we could go together. It might save you some time."
"Even if it doesn't the company would be welcome." Conner admits. "My destination is the Land of Peace. The last time I was there a link between the Marids of that place and Rebma was implied that I did not full appreciate at the time. I want to dig into that a little deeper. Where is on your itinerary?"
Garett looks genuinely pleased. "I'm to go into shadow and gather certain trade goods and bring them to Jerod in Gateway. Since it's the furtherest place from Amber and Paris, Gateway is likely on the way. If you come along, we can probably shift shadow more effectively, so we could get there faster. I have a ship being outfitted at Le Havre."
The Prince turns and glances at Corwin. "You'd better greet our Uncle, I don't want him to think we're ignoring him."
Conner bows to Corwin and Flora as is proper for their station and smiles broadly. "Majesty, Highness. It is a pleasure to once again be in Paris. Queen Celina sends her warmest regards to you both."
Flora, for all that she is in theory the junior of the elder royals present, both by age and protocol, steps forward to give Conner an auntly embrace. "It's good to see you, Conner."
Conner returns the embrace warmly. "The feeling is mutual, my Aunt."
When she releases Conner, Corwin offers a firm clasp. "Welcome to Paris. We thank you for bringing us our daughter's regards, and send them in return when next you see her." The formal greeting having been completed, Corwin lets his tone fall back to normality. "You're welcome to join our game. Or perhaps you've brought matters of state that cannot be delayed for leisure."
Corwin doesn't sound as if that would bother him very much.
"I have been sent forth seeking information on behalf of Rebma and I would seek your counsel on these matters." Conner admits. "There is also news from cousin Brennan that I believe you both would find of interest."
"Well, let's all go inside, then," Corwin says, unfussed and undisappointed. He leads the way back to the castle, explaining to his non-royal companions that duties of state call. If Florimel is pouting a little, well, nobody likes to work when there's playing to be done.
Corwin stops to send for Folly, as well, so she can join them.
Soon enough, they're all settled in Corwin's comfortable study, drinks in hand, and ready to discuss business. "So, Conner, tell us your news and Brennan's, and--I assume you've had Garrett's news from him, so we'll move straight on to the questions on which Celina is seeking counsel after that, unless there's anything else that needs to come first."
Conner nods in agreement and takes a sip of his drink to give him time to order his thoughts. "Just as a preface, the tale Brennan told was a long and somewhat convoluted one so please ask for clarification if my summary is unclear. Following a trail from Rebma, Brennan traveled to Uncle Benedict's Avalon. Once there Brennan agreed to scout some of the islands in the area and took on the guise of a wandering mercenary. Skipping ahead, Brennan found himself at a siege of a strategically important mountain keep fighting off a mercenary force backed by sorcery and he managed to capture one of the sorcerers." Conner sips his drink again.
"In Brennan's words," Conner drops into the light trance that aids his recall and when he speaks again it is with Brennan's speech patterns, "His name was Cameleopardis Findanus, of a tribe called the Maghee, who claim descent from Lir's Castellan. Lir himself, it is written, originally raised the Silver Towers. When he departed to fight with his kin against an army of fish demons, he was slain, and the Maghee people succeeded him. Later, they claim to have been instrumental in the defeat of the Witch-King, sinking their own island and destroying the Silver Towers."
Conner comes back to himself and takes another sip. "This Cameleopardis was part of an expedition to this sunken city and was taken to a place there where he saw visions. He saw the Protector and the Witch-King fighting amongst a glowing tracery that lit up the room. He blacked out and when he awoke, a woman was on a Sapphire Throne. Before the throne, the Protector fought against the Witch King's blade until it severed the Protector's arm.
"Then that vision disappeared except for the woman. She named herself Dara, of the lineage of Lir, and bade Cameleopardis to sleep. When he woke, a Priestess of Lir would give him instructions. He slept and when he awoke, a woman was there and she bade him to raise a fleet and attack the keep that Brennan defended. The Maghee wizard identified this 'priestess' as Moire."
Conner stops there for reactions and questions.
Garrett is looking at Conner like he's not quite sure what he's hearing but finds it fascinating. Florimel is looking at Corwin as if she expects him to have something to say about this story, possibly quite a lot, and it's probably not going to be happy. Corwin, as always, is hard to read, but Conner's best guess is somewhere between disturbed and disconcerted.
"That last part sounds quite a bit like the business with the silver arm and Tir, during the war," is what he finally comes up with. "I got the arm on Tir after severing it from a ghost of Benedict, and later it was severed from him by what some people said was a ghost of me. After it had done something important, I should add. And Dara was involved in that scenario, in both directions. But Moire wasn't."
"I thought the whole story had the feel of Tir's visions." Conner nods. "Which makes it all the stranger if Moire and Cameleopardis somehow found their way to Tir and stranger still that they found each other there. Unfortunately, the wizard is no longer available for clarification. He was enspelled to prevent him from speaking of this matter and the breaking of that spell caused him to age unnaturally fast." Conner shakes his head and takes a long sip of his drink. "Brennan is continuing his pose as a mercenary hoping to find more about Moire's plans and whereabouts. Amongst other things, I'm trying to figure out if this link between Avalon, Rebma and Tir is an actual path that can be traveled and if so is it an opportunity to circle behind Moire or another front that needs to be watched and guarded?"
Folly enters the study in time to hear that last bit. "Ah, Conner -- you've been talking to Brennan, I see. I don't know if this will answer your question completely, but here's what I've pieced together so far...." She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a small sketchbook, already opened to a doodle that shows the names of Pattern realms, arranged in a rough circle and connected pairwise by arrows: Xanadu -- Tir -- Avalon -- Rebma -- Paris, with a lighter arrow (with a question mark over it) connecting Xanadu and Paris. Amber is pencilled in near Avalon, with an alternate path in dotted arrows connecting it to Tir and Rebma.
The space around the diagram is FILLED with other writing in smaller, hastier text -- some crossed out, some filled with abbreviations or code that make it difficult to read. A lot of what Conner can make out seems to be names of people, including a number of family members. Benedict and Corwin in particular have a lot of difficult- to-decipher scribbling around them.
To Corwin, Folly offers a polite bow and says, "Sorry it took me so long to get here -- I was ensconced in an obscure part of the library, and I'm afraid your messenger had rather a time of it trying to track me down." Her eyes are shining, as though perhaps she found something interesting in her research -- or it could just be the glow of exertion from her brisk walk to get here. She takes a seat beside Garrett, whispers a fond greeting to him, and then looks to see what questions Conner has about her diagram, or what she knows of Brennan's story, or anything else.
Florimel greets Folly with a wave but doesn’t interfere in the discussion. Corwin gets up to get Folly a drink, while Garrett grins at Folly and peers over at the diagram, waiting for Connor's question.
"Benedict has spoken of Avalon as guarding the back way to Tir," Folly offers. She looks at Garrett. "You were in the search party after Vialle went missing, right? Did your path take you through or near Avalon? I seem to recall your father saying you all had run into Benedict along the way."
Garrett delves into the recesses of his memories. "He said we were in the mythical Isle of Apples, but I think he called it Avalon later. We climbed up Dworkin's Thumb and met Benedict--and Dworkin--there. And from there we went to Benedict's castle, and after dinner somewhere that was--part of Tir? But the Grove instead of the city. My father and Benedict were talking about the Ring Road and making fun of Bleys and his higher maths. I didn't know Benedict had a sense of humor until then."
He remembers that Corwin and Florimel are in the room as well as Connor and Folly, and shrugs, a bit apologetically.
Folly gives him an encouraging smile; it's all good information (including that last bit that he may have intended as a bit of a joke).
"And we went back to Xanadu on Gerard's Trump instead of by riding," Garrett closes out the story.
"Well, that is as definitive as we are going to get." Conner muses. "It still doesn't explain how this Cameleopardis took an underwater route from Avalon and ended up in Tir or a Tir-like place." Conner sits back in his chair. "The ring road is starting to feel like a cloverleaf."
Folly nods. "I'm working on a theory about that. But this isn't the first time something like that has happened, right? It isn't even the first time something has happened like that underwater. Did Brennan tell you what happened when they tried to remove the gheas from Cameleopardis?"
Some interested parties don’t seem to know the answer to this question so Folly thinks she’s going to have to tell them before the day is over.
To Garrett, she adds, "And what color was the sky at Dworkin's Thumb? I've been there -- or at least to a Dworkin's Thumb -- but it was on the other side of Ygg."
Garrett takes a moment to recall what it was like. "Normal color--well, roughly the same sort of color we'd get in Amber. It wasn't stormy or anything. I don't think we were in Chaos unless Benedict has another castle called Avalon there."
"...or the topology of the universe has gotten more complicated than we understand," Folly says. "Which I wouldn't necessarily rule out, but it probably makes more sense that Dworkin has quite literally left his thumb-prints all over creation. It's like the dad joke of which all others are but shadows."
To the room at large, she says, "I think I mentioned to Corwin when I told him what I knew of the Maghee wizard's story that we had reason to believe he might be un-stuck in time. Brennan suspected his mind might have been tampered with in some way; he recalled awaking and meeting this priestess person, but he was not able to recall her the way he could recall and recognize Dara. When he saw a picture of Moire, he allowed as to how it could have been her, maybe, but it was all a bit fuzzy.
"So Brennan called in a local... I dunno, hedge witch, or something... to see if she could detect and remove whatever glamour might have been placed on the Maghee. She warned that there might be side-effects, including disrupting other spells that might have been placed on him. But she tried it, and...." Folly frowns. "The poor guy aged right in front of our eyes, perhaps centuries in a matter of minutes. As though perhaps something that had been keeping him alive for all this time was suddenly taken away. I might have been inclined to believe that his long nap between seeing Dara and meeting this priestess-that-might-have-been-Moire was some kind of centuries-long stasis, except that in his conversation with Dara, she was specifically interested in finding allies to help her bring down the new kingdom of the Sorceror-King Corwin." Folly hesitates, clearly puzzling over something. "Which I had thought must mean this place, but now I'm not so sure." She looks at Conner to see if he has any more details or insights to add.
Conner nods along clearly having the heard the tale. "I wish Brennan had not been so adamant about hiding his abilities. That outcome might have been avoided." Conner sighs. "As for the tricks with time, it is quite possible that the order in which Cameleopardis met these ladies was not the order in which they met him. So many echoes from the distant past and futures that may or may not yet come to pass." Conner drains the last of his drink. "I still don't know what to make of most of it."
Garrett, who hadn't heard any of this, is drinking it all in.
"I don't know entirely what to make of it either," Corwin admits, "and I was involved with the arm business. But I think that Conner's point about time being out of order for certain people is true and makes everything more complicated. If they were some sort of Tir-ghost or out-of-time experience, it makes me wonder where the other halves were in Dara's timeline, or Moire's. Because they have to be in the past."
"Do they?" Folly asks. It's not that she's disagreeing, precisely, but she's curious to hear Corwin's reasoning.
Conner squelches the impulse to answer for Corwin and instead waits to see what his Uncle has to say.
"Certainly for Moire. Moire's not a Lord of Chaos. She doesn't reverse time. And it would be difficult, if not impossible, for Dara now that she's taken the Pattern," Corwin explains. "And with Camelopardis—that is his name?—aged out, it cannot be in the future."
"Well, it cannot be in his future, I agree," Folly counters, "but I'm less certain about the other two. I take your point about the need for the right sort of power to generate an effect like that, but -- judging from the story of you and Benedict and the arm -- a time loop doesn't necessarily have to be generated by the people within it. I mean, otherwise---" she turns to Conner "---who would we have to suppose was responsible for that weirdness with your sister and Huon in Rebma?"
Though addressed to Conner, it's clear the question is open to anyone who wants to comment.
Conner's answer to that one is an eloquent shrug.
Flora has been listening all along, and finally she injects a comment. "If I understand these things correctly, brother, from what you've said about the silver arm Benedict had, the two events were parallel but not identical on both ends of that event. So there's no guarantee that what Cameleopardis told Brennan will be what happens, or has happened, with Moire or Dara. Is that correct?"
There's a slow nod from Corwin.
"That," says Flora, "may also complicate things somewhat."
"That about sums it up, doesn't it?" Conner sighs. Turning to Folly Conner says, "When we spoke of the weirdness with Brita and Huon with my Mother, she described it as the type of time distortions associated with Tir but that the Rebman Pattern had not exhibited such behavior before. It implies that whatever happened to Tir's Pattern to make it the way it is may be happening in Rebma. Mother was most disturbed by that conjecture."
Folly chews her lip for a moment, thinking. "I don't suppose there would be any good way to know the timing of Brita's experience relative to the Tir cycle, would there? Unless it's somehow visible from Rebma too, which I didn't think it was." She frowns. "Although I'm not sure which is the more disturbing conjecture -- that whatever happened to Tir's pattern might be happening to other patterns, or that the weirdnesses of Tir are somehow getting stronger so that they can resonate in other places -- other Pattern realms, even -- when it's visible."
To Flora, she says, "And I'm not sure what to make of that, either. How were the scenes different, if I may ask?"
It's Corwin who answers the question at the end. "I saw part of the second scene from outside the door. Benedict and Dara were there, and so was Martin, who didn't appear when I got the arm in Tir. I physically couldn't get into the chamber. I don't know what was keeping me out other than the universe refusing to let me destroy it in a fit of spatiotemporal paradox." His shrug is eloquent. "And I don't like the idea that whatever happened to Tir is spreading. I'm not sure that should be possible."
"If Fiona doesn't know, nobody knows," Flora opines, sounding less than pleased at the idea.
"It sounds like I need to add her to my list of people to talk to sooner rather than later," Folly says, "although I think I still might have a bit of research to finish up here first."
Folly regards her uncle with an appraising look. "Corwin, not counting that business with the arm, have you -- to your knowledge -- ever been displaced in time?"
"But I wasn't displaced in time," Corwin answers. "I mean, I don't think that was me. It was like a distorted mirror of me. And if that's what you mean by displaced in time, not to mention space, well, it's not the first time I've been up to Tir. Not to mention that I think Dad was interfering there, because the arm was useful against Brand--that was the important bit that happened between me getting the arm for Ben and Ben losing it to not-me. I've never had anything else like that happen--
"I mean waking up in Greenwood with my memories shot after Brand had tried to have me electroshocked into permanent crazy was like being displaced in time, but I don't think that's what you're looking for." He glances here at Flora, who shrugs and shakes her head. She doesn't want to talk about that, clearly.
"No, that's not quite what I was getting at," Folly agrees, "although it would not particularly surprise me if your visits to Tir or your father's meddling turned out to be relevant to what I'm working on.
"I was in the library trying to find out more about the ancient history of your brand new city, and I was struck by a couple of things. First, it hadn't occurred to me to mention it before, because I didn't realize it might be significant, but in Cameleopardis's story he referred to the person he witnessed dueling the Protector over the Pattern interchangeably as 'The Sorceror-King', 'Corwin', and 'Carol the Magnificent'---" Folly closes her eyes a moment, remembering the conversation, and amends, "...'Carol le Magne'. Which turns out to be the name of the ancient founder of this city. Whose descendant Clothilde married off a daughter to a merchant of Amber." For Conner's benefit, she nods toward her sketchbook, still in his hands. It may take a moment to find among her scribbled notes, but there near 'Avalon' is Benedict's name in a partial family tree showing his descent from Cymnea... and hers from Clothilde.
"...And it occurred to me," Folly continues, turning her attention back to Corwin, "that given all the other evidence of time-weirdness we've seen, it was not beyond the realm of possibility that you might accidentally be the ancestor of your own big brother." The look on her face conveys that she thinks this is simultaneously totally insane and completely reasonable.
"Patterns repeating themselves." Conner murmurs as he looks over Folly's sketchbook. Conner unconsciously drops his hand to Halosydne's hilt and remembers the image of a young Rebman queen begging her Cneve for help. Lost in that thought, Conner doesn't say anything more.
Garrett, who has been sitting here quietly absorbing the lessons of the elders, openly gapes at Folly. Florimel's response is restricted to a raised eyebrow or two.
Corwin just laughs. "Not that I know of. But I think Grayswandir would protect me from actually being sent back in time, or certainly I'd try to use Grayswandir to protect me. I have in the past, when the Moonriders have tried to send me away to keep me from defending Jones Falls.
"Also, I've had a lot of names while traveling, but Charlemagne isn't one of them. If I were going to pick a major figure in Earth-French history, maybe William the Ninth of Aquitaine. I don't want to be Charlemagne."
"Would Benedict?" Folly asks. "From what I found in the library here, the Carol that founded this place was described as having driven out and then protected the city from foul and inhuman barbarians. I'm afraid I don't know enough of your Earth-French history to know their Charlemagne, though."
"The Charlemagne of Shadow Earth was a brilliant military mind and primarily known for the Empire he built by military conquest." Conner comments. "So that is not incompatible but hardly conclusive."
"He did lose that ugly business in La Chanson de Roland, if the legends are true. I can't see why Benedict would want anything to do with that," Florimel says, as if that's obvious.
Conner is about to remark that no one wants anything to do with the ugly parts of their lives but there is no way to way that without it sounding like a jab at Flora's recent loss. Conner remains silent and nods his head.
"By legend and what we know of history, Charlemagne's court spent a lot of time sponsoring an intellectual flowering described as a Renaissance," Corwin counters. "That sounds more like me than Ben. Though Charlemagne wasn't a bard himself. Just a sponsor of them. I don't intend to have my empire blessed by any gods, though. Just the Unicorn."
"Speaking of long histories, are there any mentions of Osric and Finndo among the history you've been researching." Conner asks Folly. "It has been conjectured that I am following in Cneve's footsteps to some degree but Rebma's archivist was spirited away by Jerod and I am forced to look to other sources for information."
"No, nothing save the speculation that our Maghee wizard may have been descended of Finndo or one of his shadows," Folly replies. "And I'm afraid I don't know anything about Cneve's history or relationship to the family, except that... his death was what got Amber involved in Rebma's Triton War, maybe...?" She looks to Conner, and to Corwin and Flora, for confirmation or more information.
"Cneve was--" Corwin's brow wrinkles here in thought "--Osric's son? Finndo's? Anyway, long before my time. Ben and Dworkin are really the only survivors of those days. I've always wondered if that didn't have something to do with 'dying for the good of Amber' but it's not the sort of thing I'd ask Ben.”
Florimel shakes her head in the negative, but Garrett speaks up. "I think Cambina may have looked into that."
Folly's eyes widen. "Do you know what prompted her interest, or if she was working with anyone else on it?" She blinks, then adds gently, "Is this related to her trip up the stairs?"
She looks to Conner to see if he has more to add about either Cneve or Cambina.
Garrett shakes his head. "Just some things Nestor said that I probably wasn’t supposed to hear. Maybe Brennan will know something." He reddens a little, and hastens to add, "I mean, just because he was likely to know what she was working on."
"If Brennan had any information on Cneve that seemed relevant, I would think he'd have mentioned it during his time in Rebma." Conner observes. "Still, asking the direct question might be worth it when next I speak with him." Conner shrugs. "As for Cneve, the information I have is limited. He was Osric's son and he wielded the Pattern Blade I now bear thought it was named Belagamon then. It is unclear how he came to bear the sword or why he took up arms for Rebma against the Tritons. During that fighting, it is said that Cneve fell in battle. Osric and Finndo then joined the fight to revenge themselves on those that killed Osric's son. They were driven back into the Kelp Beds of Nedra. A peace was struck where the borders between the Dragon and Rebma were fixed with both sides agreeing not to encroach on the other. A portion of the sons of the Dragon were given to Rebma in perpetuity was servants, those we know as Tritons. The peace was sworn and sealed by the the sword and jewel, crown and scepter. Cneve was buried with his blade in a tomb in a place lost to antiquity until Khela found it."
Conner purses his lips. "When I asked Khela why such a valuable blade would be buried in a tomb rather than passed to another, she said that Cneve did not expect to stay dead. No body was found in the tomb."
Folly arches an eyebrow at that last. "Speaking of cross-shadow legends," she says, mostly to Corwin and Flora, "how does that one strike you?"
Corwin and Florimel look at each other. "My tomb was empty for a long time," he finally says. "But I wasn't ever in it. We never had a body for Dad when Eric thought he was dead, or for Ben when he'd been missing for a decade or three."
"But we did have one for Caine," Florimel points out gently.
"He was a special case," Corwin says, but he's nodding in agreement. "So yes, it's possible. But it involves foresight and ruthlessness. If you're suggesting people come back to life, I don't think that's how it works."
"The legend of Cneve sounded Arthurian to me." Conner comments. "Though when I asked if he was meant to return during Rebma's greatest need, Khela did not recognize the reference. But if we follow that legend out, Arthur was taken to Avalon after the war and here we have a path from Rebma to Avalon. There is a plausible symmetry."
Florimel ponders this for a moment, and finally says, "It's a mythic archetype of Earth. There's more than one legend of the same type. There's also Bran the Blessed and Frederick Barbarossa. All of those legends were in place before I ever arrived there. If there's a mythic archetype, Cneve could be the origin. But--" and here she pauses to look at Folly and Conner "--none of them ever actually came back, you know."
"True." Conner acknowledges. "But there is always an unspoken 'yet' at the end of such tales." Conner shrugs. "With so many things thought lost to antiquity showing up on our collective doorsteps, I suppose I'm inclined to see them everywhere."
Folly nods her agreement to that last. "And unfortunately, with the recent speculations about what the Klybesians have been up to, I'm inclined to think of all the possible ways one could give the seeming of coming back. It's interesting that Cneve seemed to expect that, though." She frowns. "Was life-after-death part of any of the religious teachings of that time? Church of the Unicorn, or the Rebman equivalent?"
"Life after death was never a part of the Unicorn's teachings," Corwin says, shaking his head in the negative. "Not that I've ever heard of."
Florimel is also shaking her head. "Nor to my knowledge."
(Garrett is still sitting quietly, absorbing the knowledge of his elders like a sponge.)
Folly taps her bottom lip, thinking. "We had a... doomsday cult sort of thing, the Paresh, in Amber while the rest of you were off fighting the war in Chaos. But they were predicting the end of the world, not its rebirth -- although their predicted doomsday ended up being pretty close to when the Xanadu pattern was drawn, if I've counted things correctly." She frowns. "It was some kind of Chaosian beastie they were fighting as part of that Triton war he got killed in? Maybe he expected to be eaten and re-spawned, somehow...? Except that seems less likely if he'd taken the Pattern." She's obviously very unsure about that particular bit of Rebman history, and looks to Conner and her elders for clarification or additional insights.
"If he'd taken the Pattern that makes no sense. And while I can't speak to what his blade did to Chaos beasties, mine burns them to ashes with the power of the Pattern. I wouldn't expect to die at all in a fight with a lord of Chaos. I didn't when it was Borel--but I wasn't interested in a fair fight at the time, and maybe Cneve was." Corwin's tone makes it clear what he thinks of people who follow Queensbury rules in war with Chaos: not much.
"Well then, I may be just about out of guesses as to what Cneve was thinking." Folly looks to Conner. "You bear his blade now -- do you have it with you?" Although she does not immediately add 'and may I see it?', Conner can probably hear that in her undertones.
Conner rises and turns so that there is no mistaking the sword on his hip. He draws the blade slowly and presents to Folly holding it on his palms. "Her name is Halosydne now." Conner introduces. "May I ask why you wish to see her?"
"Actually, what I really want to do is listen to her," Folly says with a lopsided sort of grin. "I'm trying to build a sort of... mental model of the relationships among Pattern realms. And since resonance is the model that makes the most sense to me, I'm looking for clues in the way things sound. I have no idea whether there will be any new useful information detectable in the sound, but the opportunity to at least try it seems too good to pass up."
If Conner is amenable to letting her try it, she will repeat the experiment she did with Grayswandir; she'll be listening for similarities and differences in the swords' inherent tones, as well as any differences in how they interact with the Paris surroundings: for example, does Halosydne seem at all less consonant with Paris than did the sword that scribed the Paris pattern?
"By all means, Folly. I am curious what are you are able to discern with your musician's ear." Conner ascents. If Folly wishes to take the sword herself, Conner will let her.
She does so, gently and with obvious respect -- and a bit of awe -- toward the sword. She suspends it lightly from the hilt, point down, and taps the blade lightly with her fingernail, ringing it like a chime.
She closes her eyes to listen.
Where Xanadu was a rock song, and Paris was chamber music with an impressionistic flair, Rebma is fugues and canons of the fugues and canons with a consort of strings: viols and lutes. There's something missing, though, and Folly can't quite put her finger on what it is. She can tell that it's missing, though. It's an ache in the song where something used to be. Or perhaps a sense that some instrument in the ensemble is missing and the absence renders the song lesser, though not wrong.
Conner can feel the rhythm of the song as Folly strikes it, but this is not his gift and he cannot hear the entire tune. (Neither, he suspects, can Corwin, though he’s clearly interested in the procedure.)
Conner cocks his head to one side and leans in a little. His right hand swings side to side and up and down like a conductor keeping the beat. "What do you hear, Folly?"
Folly's eyes are now tightly closed, and the rest of her face is scrunched in concentration. The fingers of her free hand move, too, but not in a conducting motion; it's like she's looking for the shape of a melodic line to add to some invisible score in the air before her.
"There's... something.... I can't quite tell if it's foundational, or some countermelody in the middle range, or what, but it's like there's a line missing. Or an instrument."
She opens her eyes again and offers the blade back to Conner with a murmur of thanks. She then looks at each of the assembled in turn to see if they heard it too. She cocks an eyebrow when her eyes meet Garrett's: he may not have her depth of musical training, but he is his father's son and has some of his traits. It's possible he's intuited something about the missing bit even if he doesn't have the vocabulary to define it precisely.
Garrett looks at her mournfully and shakes his head.
Corwin's just waiting for her and Conner to report back their findings, so his attention is on Conner now that Folly has spoken.
Conner also shakes his head in the negative. "I could feel the rhythm of whatever you were doing." Conner swings his right head in more passage of the beat. "But I could only catch snatches of the tune. Just enough to hear that is it beautiful and somehow sad."
Folly nods. "It's like it's mourning for something that's lost. My first guess would be Moins, or maybe Lir -- whoever made Rebma's Pattern, or called for the sword to be made. But it could be something else, I suppose. I wonder if the sword Bleys bears has a similar hole in its tune? Corwin's didn't." Mostly to the elders, she asks, "As far as we know, has Tir always had the same monarch?"
This question is a bit over Florimel's head and she shrugs, also looking at Corwin for his answer. Which is: "So far as I know, yes, but I wouldn't take it as a hundred percent proven. That may be time whereof memory runneth not for Benedict, never mind me.
"Now you have me wondering what would happen if we gave duelling a go on the lawn. Are you up to that, Conner?" Corwin raises his eyebrows. "In love and lightness, of course, in accordance with family rules. And then Folly could listen to the blades again afterwards."
"...Because maybe what Conner's blade misses is a little blood on it?" Folly asks with raised brows, though her eyes are twinkling. Despite the faint glimmer of misgivings that this will all end horribly wrong, she is visibly delighted at the prospect of this plan. She herself had considered asking Corwin if maybe pretty-please he would challenge Bleys to a duel just so she could listen, but concluded that would be overstepping her bounds. Plus, 'because I want to hear the beat frequencies of your swords banging together' sounds a little dirty even for on-purpose flirting. (With Corwin, anyway.)
"I accept." Conner smiles. "One only improves by practice with those more skilled after all and I have had little opportunity to spar in the open air of late. Besides, how could a redhead turn down a metaphysical experiment?"
"That was the answer I'd hoped for." Corwin rises and gestures them all outside. Florimel follows, though she drops back with instructions for the servants, and Garrett keeps close on Corwin's heels.
"For science!" Folly says with a gleeful grin at Conner. "But maybe let's try to avoid any dissections." She moves to follow the others, but pauses to give Conner's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Luck," she says.
"Thank you." Conner replies. "I'll need it."
There's a nearby open lawn that may have been used for croquet or other genteel so-called sports in the past. A small crowd is starting to gather as Corwin and Conner prepare for the duel: mostly senior people and those known to the royals like Aunt Felicity, Sir Lancelot, Sir Firumbras, and the Roths. One fellow shows up with a valise. Conner and Folly think he might be a doctor.
Corwin has stripped off his jacket and is limbering up. "To first blood, or would you rather simply do an exercise in parries?"
Conner also takes off his jacket, folds it carefully and places it to the side. "To first blood," Conner agrees with the likelihood that it will be his own blood an unspoken and assumed fact. Conner knows that any advantage Halosydne would grant him will be countered by Grayswandir. That brings it down to skill. Conner merely hopes to acquit himself well before his defeat.
Conner does a little light stretching of his own before crossing over to stand across the lawn from Corwin. When His Majesty is ready, Conner draws his sword slowly to allow the assembled guests to get a good look before the action begins. Conner salutes Corwin with his blade and sinks down into a fencing crouch.
Conner intends to fight very defensively until he has a measure of Corwin's speed and style. Then, if given the chance, he will try probing attacks here and there in an attempt to feint Corwin out of position and score a hit.
"Folly, you'll be our referee," Corwin says, "since you're obliged to pay close attention anyway. Garrett, you should assist if Folly is otherwise occupied."
Garrett nods. "Yes, Uncle Corwin." After a moment, as Corwin is moving into his own guard position, Garrett adds, "I don't expect either of you need me to say this, but sorcery should be out of bounds for this exercise." Maybe he doesn't need to say it but it clearly seems like a reasonable precaution for a duel between the Sorcerer King and a redhead.
Conner stands in a Pattern realm holding a Pattern blade facing one holding a Pattern blade. Attempting sorcery is about the last thing on Conner's mind. Still, one never knows what a King is capable of in His realm especially one with a penchant for pulling out surprises.
Corwin, meanwhile, has raised his blade. "En garde!" And he presses the attack. It's quickly obvious to Conner that Corwin is his superior with the blade and he could go on like this for a while. There's a legend that went around the castle during the interregnum about Corwin having dueled one of his brothers for twenty-four hours. Conner doesn't think that was necessarily a lie.
It's not that Corwin is pushing too hard here, either. He's good, but so is Conner, and while Corwin could finish this pretty quickly, there's clearly no intention to do so. Instead the blades ring as Conner parries Corwin's blows. With the strength of Paris behind them, or at least it seems that way, Conner can feel the rattle all the way up his arm when Corwin strikes and Conner blocks. They move up and down the lawn, Corwin driving Conner backwards and then letting up on the press so Conner can push him back down the grass and they can stay on the field.
Folly watches closely and listens even more closely, sometimes moving a few steps up or down the lawn to hear from a different angle, or squatting down to lay her palm against the ground as if she expects the earth itself to serve as some sort of amplifier. She is paying particular attention to how the sounds -- the songs -- of the two blades play off one another and the space around them. Just as two tones at very near frequencies produce audible beats as they alternately reinforce and cancel one another, so the sounds of these two blades together may make some underlying tones more prominent -- their inherent Patterniness, for example -- and also combine to produce new sounds that weren't in either blade alone. She's also curious whether Paris itself seems to amplify one blade more than the other, or otherwise modify or interact with what she's hearing; and how the fighting rhythm of each combatant compares with the songs she hears from their blades.
In addition to the sounds themselves, she's paying attention to what they evoke, be that a place or a mood or an attitude. Is there something inherently discordant or inherently harmonious about two Pattern blades coming together (or at least, about these two coming together)? Given the natures and owners of the blades, she's half-expecting it to sound like Celina, or perhaps Avalon which now lies between Rebma and Tir.
Folly is probably wishing about now that Bleys were here, because while there are definitely some harmonics and discordancies, it's hard to tell what might be the Paris effects and what's just the two blades. Also, while Folly's no swordswoman, or at least not one on the order of a Prince of Amber raised to it the way Conner and Corwin were, it's apparent to her that Corwin is the superior duelist.
The blades don't seem to be horribly discordant, but Folly has a sense that they're not really meant to do what they're doing right now. The music's not wrong, exactly, just ... not right.
There's nothing that particularly reminds her of Avalon in this music.
And although it may be rather a long-shot, she's trying to gain more insight into what's missing from the song of the Rebman blade.
She has no immediate insights on that point.
Conner is content to keep fencing back and forth until Folly gives some indication she has heard what she needs to or until Corwin chooses to end this fight. He will try an occasional move to disarm his uncle mainly to see how Corwin counters or avoids it.
Conner is a good fighter. A really good fighter. Even among his cousins, he's not a weak duelist, and certainly among mundanes, he's superior. It takes something on the order of a Triton to really beat him. (Well, except for the whole Triton oath thing.)
Conner's pretty sure Corwin could tangle with a Triton and make the Triton sorry. He's fast, he's strong, he's got orders of magnitude of endurance on Conner and he's incredibly difficult to read. He's not being rude about it, by any means, but Conner is aware Corwin could end this pretty much any time. The disarm attempts Conner makes are good and solid, but the strength Corwin brings to bear in return keep his blade in hand when he doesn't just outright dodge them, which he mostly doesn't because that's not the point of the exercise.
Like Conner, Corwin is waiting for Folly to decide she’s done before he ends things.
The crowd is just enjoying the duel. Conner and Folly can hear the murmurs of discussion from the knot of onlookers.
Folly has a long and thorough listen, followed by a long and thorough look; after all, a pair of lovely and skilled duelists is its own sort of entertainment even without the accompanying sounds.
Once she has the sounds (and some of the visuals) firmly etched in her memory, she moves to where she thinks she should be visible at least peripherally to both men and raises her hand above her head in a thumbs-up. Beneath her gown, she toes at the hem of her linen underdress, ready to sacrifice the bottom several inches for a bandage, if needed.
Corwin was waiting for the signal; when Folly issues it, he stops playing around. He's not going for a kill, but he stops letting Conner beat him aside so easily on parries and he's advancing aggressively instead of giving ground. Soon enough Conner finds himself backed to the edge of the lawn, and Corwin touches him on the arm, enough for crimson to blossom on his sleeve, but not enough to be a serious injury. Corwin retreats at once.
It is a testament to Corwin's skill and the keenness of Grayswandir that Conner's doesn't realize he's injured until Corwin retreats. Conner drives Halosydne into the ground and claps his free hand over the wound.
"Hold," Folly calls, and continues in a clear voice that carries to the onlookers: "Both combatants acquitted themselves well, but the victory is Corwin's."
The presumed doctor rushes up to check on Conner's injury, if permitted.
Folly also moves toward them; given their positions on the field, she reaches Corwin first, but makes sure Conner can also see her well enough to follow what she says, softly: "Given recent events, perhaps we should keep control of any shed blood."
Corwin nods to Folly. He gestures Alice to him and says, "See that the doctor's bandages are properly disposed of." She nods and moves to assist the doctor as he tends to Conner's wounds.
Conner allows the doctor to minister to his wound and gives direction if at any point the work is not up to Conner's standard. "Most instructive, Majesty." Conner smiles at his Uncle. "My thanks for the lesson."
"My thanks for the exercise. I enjoy a spar with a skilled opponent." Corwin bows. One of the onlookers--Lance--has brought Corwin a cloth to clean his blade with before he sheathes it. Corwin salutes Conner and begins to work on the sword so he can put it away.
The doctor's work is fine by Conner's standard; the touch was with the point and not a slicing strike, so no stitches will be needed, merely a bandage, which will require the removal of his shirt but nothing more serious.
The crowd begins to disperse, but Lance, Alice, and her husband Bill remain as long as the doctor is working on Conner. Garrett also remains, but he's family, and there may be more family discussion afoot.
Once the wound is seen to and his shirt is replaced, Conner retrieves his own sword and brings out a cloth to remove any stray bits of dirt before sheathing her. Conner approaches Folly and asks, "So did you enjoy the concert?"
"It was very interesting," she replies, "but I'm not quite sure what to make of what I heard. It's like the blades were not quite meant to be doing what they were doing. But I don't know whether that speaks to some underlying relationship between the places those blades represent -- that Tir and Rebma, or Paris and Rebma, were not meant to be fighting -- or that they were meant for a different, more intentional sort of fighting."
She frowns thoughtfully. "I suppose, as blades of Pattern, they're really meant to defend against Chaos. But I don't know if it's more than that."
Alice has sent for a fresh shirt for Conner and, under Corwin's direction, the group moves toward the study. Garrett is listening eagerly but he has nothing to offer.
Corwin says, "I didn't notice anything particular about the exchange of blows. I wouldn't want to do more than spar in lightness against Conner with these blades, or with Bleys. You know what happens to them when you strike a Chaosian with them, don't you?" he asks Conner.
Garrett waits for the answer, hungry for knowledge.
"As I understand it the Chaosian in question catches fire." Conner replies. "I am unaware if such use affects the sword or its wielder in any way though."
"Does it feel, or sound, any different than hitting a non-Chaosian opponent?" Folly adds to Conner's implicit question.
"It depends on the being. I've had some that Greyswandir cut through like butter as it set their blood aflame. Others, not so much," Corwin says. "I haven't done any methodical examination, though. I'm not sure Bleys has either. If Brand had had Werewindle, he would have tried it, though I think his attention span would have run out too quickly with that kind of project. Not creative enough," he adds by way of explanation. "I was wondering whether you'd had a chance to try it yet, or to fight with a triton."
"I am happy to report that I have yet to draw my sword in anger." Conner replies. "So I do not have any information to share on that score. Halosydne here is know to the Tritons as the PaxBlade and is one of the tokens of the peace treaty between the Dragon of Nedra and Rebma. While I have no doubt that she is potent against the Tritons, I shudder to think at what bonds might be broken if I were to slay a Triton with it."
"Depends on whether it tried to kill you first, I should think," Corwin says, sounding momentarily flippant. But Conner and Folly, if they look closely at him, can see that he's not entirely joking.
Garrett, who has been listening to this conversation with interest, asks, "What are you going to do if you go get attacked by a Triton, Conner?"
"Most likely kill it," Conner admits, "and hope that any fallout is diplomatic rather than metaphysical in nature. After all, I can make a pretty good argument that any Triton that attacked me was not keeping the peace." Conner smiles thinly. "The equation would change a little if I knew the Triton personally of course. There are some I respect enough to attempt to subdue rather than kill if only to get some answers as to why they would turn on me."
"If the blade burns them, you'll have an easy time. If not," Corwin says, making the obvious point, "it won't be so easy. I imagine that Celina will understand either way. I can't imagine it's so easy, though, or else someone would have fallen on the Paxblade at some time."
Florimel, who has been keeping up all this time, agrees. "During the Libertist business, for sure."
"What Libertist business?" Garrett asks.
"I believe," Folly answers, "Florimel is referring to a movement in Rebma some time ago calling for the Tritons to be freed. It was effectively quashed when Moire very publicly executed at least one of their leaders. I heard a bit about it from your brother, who was rather good friends with some of the Libertists -- including their executed leader." There is a gentleness in Folly's tone that Garrett may recognize as signalling a large and deliberate understatement. "It's not clear to me how much of Moire's opposition to the movement was metaphysical versus purely political."
Garrett give a single nod that Folly recognizes.
"That was after my time," Corwin says, "so I can't say. But if she had any basic understanding of what she was dealing with, and understood the difference having Llewella's daughter involved made, it may have been both--if," he adds, not entirely missing the undercurrents in the room, "an incorrectly informed one."
Florimel nods her agreement with Corwin, an entirely different gesture to the one Garrett just made. "Llewella might know, but I'm not sure I'd ask her." Her tone makes it clear she thinks there's more than a breach of etiquette at risk.
Folly nods, acknowledging what Florimel said and not-said. "And speaking of people who would know: before Moire left Rebma, I did rather promise to pay her a visit, assuming my reply ever got to her. If that ever comes to pass, it's gonna be the most metal tea-time smalltalk ever."
"I would happily pour the tea and serve kelp-point sandwiches to witness that." Conner chuckles. "Her Majesty Queen Vialle spoke to me of the Libertist movement once. She made it sound more political than anything else with a healthy dose of fear of what a freed Triton might do mixed in there." Conner scratches at his arm just above the bandage. "I also spoke to Her Majesty Queen Khela about how she came into possession of the Paxblade. She gave the impression that all of the clues that lead her there were to be found in the Shells rather than in Rebma proper. All it takes for something to be lost to Rebman history is the one Archivist that knows a tale to fall silent. We are already running into that limitation as we delve into Rebma's past."
"To fall silent or be silenced?" Florimel asks.
Conner smiles in appreciation. "Precisely, my Aunt. Gaps in Rebman history track with sudden vacancies in the Archivist staff. No doubt this is why Jerod spirited away the archivist Carina when he had the opportunity lest she become a casualty of history."
"Wise of him, because the lady is in a position to know too much." Florimel smiles thinly.
Corwin speaks up. "Of course she would be welcome here. And safe."
"Don't be ridiculous, brother," Florimel answers. "Moire ran through this city and we still don't know how she got away. I have a much better sense of the distaff half of this city than you, for all that you spend your share of time among the women, and I can tell you that your protections for Carina would be inadequate. If you sealed her up inside your own library, Carina could still end up dead. Or have you forgotten the lesson of my son so easily?"
For once, Corwin decides that discretion might be the better part of valor, and shuts up.
"Martin has made mention that for a skilled practitioner of such things, mirrors can be used as we use trumps -- not just for communication, but sometimes also for travel." Folly's tone is gentle but a bit grim; they all know what else Moire seems to have done with her mirror skills where Lucas is concerned. "And this city is... very shiny." She gives a wry smile. "It's how I would try to find her, if I had a mind to." Something in her tone suggests she already has at least half a mind to.
"I believe Celina looked into Moire's movements among the mirror makers of Paris." Conner comments. "I never heard the full details though."
"Celina and Merlin found the mirror she appears to have left by," Corwin says. "One of her agents had it prepared. I can find the list of mirrorwrights and show you the one who made it. But she did capture the agent, who is still in our custody. What was her name?" Corwin turns to Florimel, whom he seems to think will remember it.
Florimel's eyes shine and the corners of her mouth turn up in a way that worries Folly and Conner. "Her name is Bend," she says.
Conner's answering smile is equal parts relief that Flora's expression is not aimed at him and satisfaction that it is aimed at Bend. "Ah, yes. How is my fourth-least favorite Rebman?" Conner asks. "Has she proven any more cooperative since I've seen her last?"
Folly looks like she might have a question of her own, but she's very interested in the answer to Conner's question, first. She reflexively fingers her trump case through the folds of her gown.
"She's not very cooperative, but I believe she knows how Moire escaped Rebma. Her lack of cooperation centers on that point." Florimel looks at Corwin. "With your permission, brother, we could take her for a trip and see if there's any way we can convince her as we travel. That is--" she turns back to Conner and Folly "--if you two are interested."
Conner's smile grows wider. "An outing with a favorite Aunt? I can think of nothing better."
Folly leans in, clearly interested, but more cautiously so. "What sort of trip did you have in mind?" she asks. "And which of us are the good cop and bad cop? Because, y'know...." With a wry smile, she gestures at Conner: "Diplomat with a sword could go either way."
Garrett doesn't quite stifle a laugh. "I imagine our Aunt can be quite the 'bad cop' if she needs to, if Dad's stories are true. No offense meant, Aunt Florimel."
Florimel inclines her head gracefully, as if Garrett has paid her a compliment.
"Sometimes you get more with a kind word and a sword than just a kind word." Conner misquoted with a smile. "What did you have in mind, my Aunt? What would be our itinerary?"
Florimel smiles. "The former Queen is, despite her charms," she says and looks at Corwin. Corwin doesn't bother to blush. "Rather old for games. This agent of hers is younger. I would expect the story you tell to be along the lines of 'My dearest Aunt is humoring our efforts to interrogate you, because she is angry and may have already conjured a pack of Wolfhounds to throw you to if she doesn't get what she wants. You should tell us quickly while you've still got all your limbs.'" She looks over the emerald green frames of her glasses. "I think you two need to be 'Good'."
Corwin nods. "It's the only option she'd believe."
She looks at him coolly. "I know of a little shadow where we can take her. The land is rocky and barren, and the sea is the only source of food. The water is breathable, barely, and every gasp feels like you are breathing in a thousand tiny knives. No one lives there, and there's really nothing to do but slowly rot away. We can take her there."
Garrett pales slightly. Either she just made that up or she really is 'quite the bad cop'.
Corwin looks at his sister. "Well, that sounds worse than a steak dinner, but better than Greenwood Hospital. At least Bend can't meet up with Klybesians on a deserted island."
Conner swings his head to one side and then to the another as if weighing the idea.
Folly frowns, thoughtfully, and looks at Conner. "You've had run-ins with Bend before, I believe. Do you think that sort of approach would work with her, or is it too much like her own bag of tricks? Depending on whether she herself was more of an intimidator or a negotiator, she may have her own skills to defend against it. Either way, I... might have something else to try first."
"I interacted primarily with Lord Montage during my time in Rebma." Conner admits. "However, from my brief interaction with Bend in the Bastille, I think she has a healthy fear of what a powerful woman could have done to her." He graces his Aunt with a smile.
To Corwin, she adds, "A while ago, while Moire was still in Rebma, I wrote a reply to a message from her. I believe Random was going to give it to you to pass along to her. Do you recall if it was ever sent?"
"It should have been," Corwin answers Folly. He elaborates, "Moire and I were in regular diplomatic contact until things fell apart. It would have gone by diplomatic pouch. I'd have to have it looked into to be certain and to know when it would have arrived."
Conner turns to Folly. "What message did you send and how do you think it could help us now?" Conner inquires.
"Moire had invited me to visit her in Rebma, and I told her that although I had some pressing personal business to attend to first, I looked forward to making the arrangements once that was concluded. Which was secret code for 'gotta go find my mum and tell her she's about to be a gram, and then also have that baby because even I have enough self-preservation instinct not to go to Rebma while pregnant with the queen's great-grandchild'." Folly smiles wryly.
She continues, "If this Bend was a close aide to Moire, there's a reasonable chance she knows about that exchange. So, y'know, maybe before we try torture, we could go the diplomatic route of, 'Hi, I was supposed to visit Moire, and I know some of the circumstances have changed in the meantime but she's still my husband's grandmother and I'd like to talk to her, do you have any suggestions how I might reach her?'"
"I think if you're going to do that, you should consider breaking her out," says Corwin. Florimel starts to sputter indignantly, but Corwin overrides her. "That's your way of being good cop. She's not going to believe anything you tell her, Flora. She's not a complete idiot. But Martin's wife? Maybe. I don't think Garrett should be involved in this one, though."
Corwin looks to Folly and Conner to see what they think.
"That definitely has potential," Folly agrees. "And yeah, Garrett, you should probably not be one of the direct players in this one -- both for political reasons and because I might need you as an escape route in case things go pear-shaped. That is, if you don't mind my continuing to hang on to that card I made for your father that I haven't had a chance to give him yet." She taps her trump case through her pocket.
"You keep it," Garrett answers. "Martin would kill me otherwise." He says it like he's kidding.
To Conner, Folly says, "If there's already a bit of animosity between you and Bend, I'm thinking perhaps I should make the initial contact myself -- and then after that, my usual approach is 'wing it', but I'm open to suggestions. What do you think?"
The fingers of Conner's right hand twitch like he's doing math on an invisible slate. "I am...." Conner pauses, "skeptical." He finishes at last. "I can't think that Bend would view you getting involved as anything but a power play to put your daughter on the throne of Rebma. It is what most Rebman noble ladies would do in your position after all." Conner opines. "So you are going to have spin one hell of a tale to either convince Bend that you really just want a quiet chat or that an alliance with you benefits Moire in the short term if not the long. Otherwise, we are back to betting on Bend's desire for freedom or better treatment being stronger than her loyalty to Moire."
"Well, to my advantage," Folly says with a wry smile, "that 'hell of a tale' I will have to spin is the actual truth. My main goal, truly, is to talk with Moire, and I'd rather keep any children of mine far from sitting any thrones if I can help it. I figure it's at least worth a shot, and at worst it doesn't work and we're back to Horror Holidays with Auntie Florimel." She inclines her head respectfully, despite the humor in her tone at that last, to her aunt.
To Conner, she continues, "Or at least I hope that's the 'at worst'. I suppose it's also possible it works and I accidentally find myself in some sort of weird hostage situation -- which is why I'm being careful about escape routes."
"I have the ability to watch you from a distance so we can build another layer of redundancy into your contingencies." Conner offers. "But let's return to your plans. Let's assume for the moment that you manage to convince Bend of your sincerity and you find yourself either with Moire's location or being brought before her. What do you intend to do then?"
Florimel speaks before Folly can reply to Conner.
She looks as if she's having to explain gravity to a puppy. "Before you answer, Folly, consider this. Moire will naturally want to take you in and protect you and help you in any way possible, because taking up her great-granddaughter's cause against her daughter allows her to effectively return to the throne while papering over her own treason.
"Bend will see the advantage of your line, to her mistress. Your concern should be if her ties to her Queen are weak, and her remembrance of the harm done her family by your husband are strong."
"You'll have to at least hint at either the possibility that you might be manipulatable by a woman with hundreds of years of experience doing exactly that in a court that makes Amber's look transparent and open, or you'll need to be manipulatable."
Corwin clears his throat. "'My child is Morganthe's granddaughter' is a risky approach, but might draw her out. If that's what you want to do."
Folly is silent for a long moment, thinking, before she replies, "Unfortunately, what I want most is not actually possible -- namely, to have a conversation with Moire that is personal rather than political. But everything personal between us is already deeply, horribly political, and I haven't even met her yet." Her tone sounds almost wistful, but there is a flicker of hotter emotion behind her eyes.
More evenly, she continues, "I want to try to get a sense of her plans and motivations; I hold out hope, however faint, that now that her own daughter sits the throne of Rebma she is somewhat less likely to try to take it back herself." She doesn't add, 'or try to maneuver someone else onto it,' but it's not hard to hear between the lines. "I would dearly love to have an honest talk about Rebman metaphysics with her, but I hold out even less hope on that score."
Folly holds out her hands, palms up, in a gesture that encompasses everyone present. "Those are my personal goals. But I am also a member of this family, and moreover I know that I am only making these plans with your help. With Paris's help. So we should also discuss: IF -- a very big if, I know -- I were somehow able to make contact with Moire, even meet her in person, what would you want to see happen next?"
"Her brought to justice for the murder of my son," Florimel says, and that silences the rest of the room for a moment.
Garrett, perhaps surprisingly, is the one to pipe up next. "I think my father will have an opinion on this. I don't want to commit him without speaking to him, though." Which diplomatically kicks the can down the road bit.
When next Conner can catch Garrett's eye, Conner nods his head slightly in approval and a blink-and-you-missed it hint of smile passes over Conner's face.
He's hard to read, but Folly suspects Corwin is grateful for it. (Conner would not be surprised by this either, but for slightly different reasons.) "How soon do you need your answer, Folly? Because I'd like to talk to Celina, privately, before making a decision."
Conner waits for Folly's answer before saying anything further.
"We have some time," Folly says. "I mean, it's not like Bend is going anywhere soon, right? And I did want to talk to-- to Random first. I know what his answer was before, but that was when Moire was still queen." She hesitates, then adds, "And I should probably warn my husband."
"Prudent." Conner nods. Conner looks as though he was going to say more. His eyes flick towards his Aunt and he remains silent.
"Well, that's it, then," Corwin says, clearly ready to put a cap on that subject. "I think privacy might be in order for us to make our various trump contacts with the rest of the family. Shall we reconvene later for dinner?"
"Sounds like a plan," Folly agrees. "Give my love to Celina."
"I will," Corwin assures her.
Last modified: 16 March 2016