An Order of Patterns

Celina nods her blessing to Jerod, Ossian, Cordelia, and Regenlief as they saddle up.

Celina squeezes Merlin's hand as they all turn to consider retracing their route. "If they carried something heavy to a cache location it wasn't obvious and they were not so far ahead of us. If they met someone else who had Trump's and left with a heavy item, that seems more improbable yet."

Celina humms softly. "We should check the rapids. If the package was put into a second boat that was released once they got going, it could be downstream or at the bottom of a small waterfall."

"Other thoughts?" she looks at her companions.

"Backtrack to the rapids slowly," Vere reples. "Searching every inch along the way for something we have missed, just in case. But I am inclined to agree with you that the dropoff happened in the water."

Merlin looks at the three. "I have confidence that any of us here can survive going over a small waterfall. Martin went over the one in Xanadu and it is not a small waterfall. If we are fortunate, it will be far enough from Paris that sorcery will not be such a struggle."

Merlin seems ready to go.

Vere will appropriate a lantern from the stable so that he has a better light source, and begins heading back along the way they came. "I do not see a need for speed," he muses aloud. "Careful examination of the trail seems more appropriate. Correct me if I am incorrect on this."

Celina nods. She's nettled and speaks with emotion, "These monks are trained in tactics that confuse assumptions. I need to do better with my wits versus theirs. We haven't put hands on a senior fellow." She's not happy.

When they reach the water channel again, she watches the surface reflections by Vere's lantern. The water isn't deep and the surface ripple will speed up if a large object sits at the bottom. She measures the light bounce as they all gather at the channel edge.

The trail back is easy to follow in the lantern's light and the trio checks anything that seems suspicious. The trail is clear, although the two groups traveling over it has made it difficult to find any specific footprint. It seems as if the monks had been traveling light by the time they reached the land, or at least lighter than when they were in the cave before the river.

It's not hard to follow the river down to the rapids before the falls and see lodged in the bottom, a crate or a chest of some sort. It's not quite large enough to be a coffin, but it is made of very polished material, as least as far as can been seen below the water. Assuming that's it, it doesn't look like it comes from Paris.

Vere examines the water over the chest and estimates how dangerous it will be to retrieve it. From here, does the chest resemble the one they discovered on the shipwreck at Cabra?

From here? Yes, it does resemble that chest. Aside from the metallic materials, Vere can't see any obvious handles or latches. And it's also a bit like the other chest in that it's too unwieldy for one person to move.

Celina ponders between the various futures: how long before someone retrieves this, or would they seriously booby trap important carry away information, or how would a trap explode in their faces without magic to trigger it? And decides she doesn't really have enough appreciation of technology in Paris. "We could backtrack for rope. We may need leverage to get this up on shore. Or we may be strong enough between us to just brute it to dry ground."

Merlin looks at it. "As long as we can get leverage, we are strong enough. Was there not a rope going down to the floor with the lifting platform? We should not have to go far, if we can swim or row upstream. Or make new holes in the walls."

Celina looks at her companions, "I mislike the idea some one will arrive to retrieve this. Let's brute carry the thing to shore."

Vere puts himself between the chest and the falls, to be certain that when they start moving it the chest doesn't go over. He forces his fingers underneath the chest and waits for his cousins to assist him in getting it to the shore.

Celina grins at Merlin. Then she moves to the embankment side of the chest, allowing the two heavier men to push while she steers.

She'll get a solid finger grip and use Takhi senses to coordinate the lift/carry.

Merlin slides into the water and sinks next to Vere. He moves minimally, and seems no more uncomfortable here than he was in Rebma. He is not breathing.

The water is deep enough that it's over Vere's head. It's cold and dark and the chest has wedged itself tightly. For a moment, Vere thought it was going to come out, but it just tumbled into a slightly deeper notch in the rocks. On one of their trips back for air, Merlin asks if they should keep trying or see if a different approach might work. Perhaps we could remove the rocks and catch the trunk when it gets freed up...

Celina asks Merlin, "The magics at this time and place are friendly or are we in the lean of Paris? I can change the stream."

Vere frowns slightly. "I had great difficulty in doing Sorcery in the stables. Your Power is no doubt greater than mine, and might work here." He rummages through his pack and pulls out the crowbar he had put there. "Perhaps this will work as a lever to help us free it from the rocks?"

Unless someone has a better idea he will try that.

Merlin looks at the lever and considers Celina’s question. "In this case I believe a physical fulcrum will be more effective than a metaphysical one. I will attempt to keep the box from sinking further. If we can pass my cloak beneath it, we will have a good lifting sling."

Celina repositions to assist Vere. She tries bracing and using her legs as he levers.

After a few more false starts, slips, crowbar-related-dents and trips back to the top of the water to catch breath, the group gets a sling of sorts around the chest and manage to get it out of the river's main flow and onto a shelf a just a few inches below the water level.

The chest does look somewhat battered, from some combination of falling into the rocks multiple times and being crowbarred back out again. It's remarkably heavy, as if it's much more full than the chest Vere recalls from Cabra.

Once they have the chest on the bank Vere takes a moment to stand and carefully check out the area around them with all his senses, looking for any sign that the noise they made recovering the chest attracted anyone or anything.

There's no doubt they made noise. But there's no sign or other people. Or animals, other than the ones in the water. The only sounds come from the flowing water and the amberites.

Celina does some calculations. Size of chest, volume of water, kinetic of the creek, and decides the thing is half packed with silver or gold. Maybe the rest is books and records. Or instruments.

Celina says, "This thing may be a trove. Certainly trapped if they were willing to lose it rather than us get it. I think we need to Trump it somewhere where we can remove the contents without conventional means."

Celina guesses it's closer in weight to gold than silver. But it looks like it's also a bit battered, and it could be gold-and-water.

Merlin says "If we can get a score of miles from here, I can turn it inside out, but not this close to father's Pattern."

"It is somewhat odd that a technological lock continues to function this close to Paris," Vere observes as he crouches down and observes the chest more closely. "I wonder if they bring in a new chest periodically as an old one begins to deteriorate?" He shrugs and turns from speculation back to current facts. "Removing the locking mechanism would be trivial once we were far enough from the Pattern of Paris to use Sorcery. Although we should be wary of the possibility of explosives, poison gas, or other surprises they might have left." He glances up at Celina. "I have a trump of a Ranger post in Arden. Would that work?"

Celina admits, "I'm not very schooled in Arden's ways." She looks at Merlin. "For me, it sounds fine. I follow the judgment of those with more years."

Merlin nods. "I had not meant to go that far from Paris, but we can also return via trump, so traveling from Paris to the outskirts of Amber is no bar. Let us go there."

Vere produces the trump of Arden Post 9, and will send his cousins and the chest through before following.

Celina and Merlin lug the chest through the prismatic fold of Trump and set it down. She steps toward nearby rangers. "Vere follows. We need a prybar or two. I am Celina of Rebma."

The camp is only lightly populated. Winter in Arden is not a time for campaigning; the forest is a dangerous place even without the dragon stirring. The rangers are not on high alert, but are also not far from their weapons.

Two rangers nod and leave. One, Celina presumes, to fetch a senior member of the camp. They have a long workbench and turn it over for the cargo.

A ranger saunters over. "Your Highness, I am Ranger Keel. The Warden is away at the moment. Do you need assistance?"

Vere steps through in a shimmering rainbow, looks around quickly to analyze his surroundings, then puts the trump away as he steps over to join the group at the workbench. "I could attempt removing the lid while we are all at a safe distance," he tells Celina. "Just in case of a trap."

"That follows my thinking as well. What would be your technique? I'm still a student of the craft. Always learning." Celina smiles.

Keel nods to Vere and waits quietly out of the way.

Merlin is also looking at the box, but waits for Vere's answer to Celina.

"I have examined one of these chests before," Vere explains. "It should be a simple matter to use the Principle of Space to move the locking mechanism into the unlocked position without needing to be near it. Then an even simpler application of Space to open the lid while we remain at a safe distance." He nods his head slightly to her. "At your command."

"Make it real," Celina agrees.

Merlin nods. "I will be prepared to protect people from anything surprising, if you wish it, Sister."

Celina nods once.

Vere nods and leads them away to what he considers a safe distance from a potential explosion, and for additional safety uses Sorcery to create a Shield of Space between them and the chest in case of shrapnel. Holding that Shield in place he reaches out with his right hand while visualizing the shape of the locking mechanism within the chest. He reaches through Space and pushes it into an unlocked position.

Assuming that is successful he waits a moment for any reaction from the chest. If nothing happens he gives a flick of the wrist to throw open the lid.

Celina resists ducking into a feral crouch. She does cross her forearms to protect her heart and lungs.

The lock moves silently to the open position and then Vere flicks the lid back. As the lid opens fully, a cloud of black smoke erupts from the box and there’s a hissing sound from inside it. There’s a brief smell of something acrid before Merlin casts a wind spell to blow the fumes away. "That does not look good. You should hurry. I will keep blowing the smoke away."

Vere dashes towards the chest, taking care to stay clear of the smoke rising from it. He glances inside, prepared to use the Principle of Space to fling the contents out of the chest if they are being destroyed by some kind of failsafe.

Celina flows in Vere's wake. She expects Merlin to be doing something immediate and protective, but she wants to see what was so important.

Vere and Celina approach the box and the smell grows stronger, despite the hard tailwind Merlin is generating. Vere and Celina can see how it was rigged immediately. There's some sort of mechanism that spilled a black liquid into the box and over what looks like a book. There's simple catch release to disarm it, if it was disengaged while the lid was only an inch or so open.

It's eating it up, and it smells acrid, and it looks like it would not be a good idea to touch it with bare hands.

Underneath the rapidly dissolving book is a fortune in precious metals. The acid is mostly just lying atop them.

With his right hand Vere gestures at the book, lifting it without touching it until it is well clear of the liquid. Then with his left hand he makes waving gestures, using Space to flick the remaining liquid off the book, away from him and Celina. He ignores the metals for the time being.

Celina nods at the quick effectiveness of Vere. She makes every effort to memorize the book's appearance and components so she might find similar things in shadow later.

The book is thin, and the cover is heavily damaged and has only partially been able to do the job of protecting the pages within.

It hangs in the air as the droplets are flung into the wind created by Merlin and blown out into the forest, doing tiny bits of damage wherever the land.

The book seems to be a folio of drawings.

Vere takes a little bit more time to ensure that all of the liquid has been removed from the pages before taking the book in his hands and looking through it.

Celina adds, "A standard monk-ish travel reference, you think, or something more precious?"

Merlin comes up behind them and reaches over and closes the box. The breeze dies down. "It was a book of trumps? Who are they of?"

Vere tilts the book so Celina and Merlin can look at it as he flips through the drawings. He takes care not to concentrate on them to the point where they activate, but he is touching them as he goes through them to see if they have the feel of active trumps.

Celina says the nasty part out loud. "So there really is someone of Family working with them."

The pages are not cold, and it looks like some of the are very old and were not working prior to the damage done by the acid.

Merlin looks at the cards. "I do not recognize the hand, which tells me it is not Dworkin, or Brand, or Fiona. I have seen the work of Ossian, Paige, Folly, Brita, and Lucas, and it is not their work. So it is another artist. But who?"

There are notes next to some of the pictures, a series of symbols and words. "Clairveux, Senanque, Saint Pastoral, Tyrell, Abel"

Only one of the pictures is of person, Abel. It was on top, and is the most damaged. You can't really see his face.

"Tyrell was mentioned in the rutter Regenlief retrieved," Vere notes. "It appeared to be a central hub to many paths. Pastoral was the mother of Reid, and possibly also a place where the priests who eventually became the Klebesians either originated, or at least had a major presence. I do not know a person named Abel, but the name echoes through Shadow as a brother betrayed." He frowns, considering. Do the drawings, and/or the handwriting, at all resemble that of Reid?

Celina maps and commits the symbol system to memory. Celina swallows, "Would Reid have been killed if his mother was considered a Saint?" Then she recalls that Paris has places named after saints. "Or it's someplace we haven't been yet. I've not heard the Abel reference before. What sort of myth is it?"

Merlin looks at the picture of the place named Saint Pastoral. "Father told me that Saints are people who have died for their faith. Perhaps Reid became a Saint? I thought the monks claimed that they had 'recovered' Reid’s body. That was what Jerod, or perhaps Ossian, told the King. Perhaps they were telling the truth."

Vere nods. "I have never been able to pin down the exact relationship between Pastoral and the Klebesians, but there was definitely something." He turns to Celina. "It is a myth of fratricide, one brother killing his twin. Interestingly, the murderer is often named Caine."

Celina tries to just nod, but to Vere discerning eye her eyes glimmer disquiet. "Oh."

Celina deflects to Merlin's comment. "Yes, perhaps they recovered the body from a sense of respect and then honored the remains by turning it into data for their faith. In any case, we should recover our Papillion and consider what else this monkish hell hole hides."

Merlin nods. "As they seem to worship knowledge, that would be a supportable conclusion." He turns to Vere. "In the Navy, Sailors often use nicknames related to their fleet, such as Corby when sailing under Father. This is usually to prevent people from finding their families at home.

"Do they use 'Able' in Caine’s navy?"

Vere frowns slightly. "I do not recollect having heard the term used in such a way, and I think my time spent at the Naval Club would have revealed it if it were common knowledge. Marquis Maritime would be the person to ask if you think it worth following up."

Vere turns to the chest and dumps out the contents, to see if there is anything else mixed in with the precious metals.

Merlin nods "I will consider that advice." He takes a stick to stir around the contents. Neither man finds anything non-metallic. There are a number of similar rings and bracelets in with the coins. They also look to be valuable for their metal.

Celina inspects the mechanism of the trapped lock with an eye for circumventing such things in future cases. She notes that they could have removed a triple fist portion of the back of the chest and gotten most of the contents free.

She shares the idea with Merlin and Vere so they can also give it to other family.

It looks like it can be opened a small amount and a trigger disarmed. It’s a very simple mechanical trap, but the box was clearly designed to be trapped thusly. It looks like it was designed to work anywhere, not just in technological shadows. In some shadows, it would just make the contents wet, of course, and it would dilute underwater, but it may work in a wide variety of places.

Vere nods at Celina's observation. "When circumventing a possibly trapped opening it is best to take an unexpected route through an apparently solid surface. Excellent advice, which I shall remember." He nods his head deferentially to her, as senior member of the Family present. "What shall we do now?"

Celina grins, "We came. We saw. We got complicated. I had a few goals in Paris. Shake loose any influence that Moire and/or monks were getting with your sister. Done. Knock monkish resources back a few months. Done. Chase the latest data on Moire's whereabouts. Confront if possible. Not done. I may settle." She looks at Merlin. "But Jerod and Ossian may need us. So let's regroup our Parisians up above and wait there for word from our friends. Merlin may wish to talk to Lance or Bill. I'm hungry. Maybe a courtesy Trump call to Llewella that I'm fine."

Merlin nods. "I will report to the council in lieu of speaking with Father, unless he has returned."

Vere mimics Merlin's nod. "A return to Paris seems called for. I do not wish to leave there until we have heard from Jerod and Ossian."

Celina believes that Corwin owes her some information on jewels and the stability of Patterns. He's probably a shitty source, but she's going to ask him. Letting him know officially that Rebma's Jewel is missing and likely Moire knows where it is.

And she'll do her best not to blame him for allowing Moire her hijinks in Paris.

Vere thinks they should report back to Corwin, if he's in the palace, with what they have learned. Or to his Council, if he isn't. Then he would like to see a large contingent of soldiers and scholars sent through the monks' stronghold sweeping it for traps and anything that could shed light on their operations.

He also wants to have a dedicated group sent to restore the desecrated bodies to their rightful resting places, as he promised the ghost he would do.

Finally, he would like to speak to Corwin (or his Council) about the crown confiscating the property of the monks, as they have been proven to be traitors to the crown, and then negotiating for generous terms to transfer the property to the control of his sister.

Corwin is going to be hard to get hold of. Merlin is already planning to report to the council, which is Bill and Lance and Alice and sometimes Flora (but she's terrorizing the coastal gentry right now).

Lance and Bill will arrange for loyalists to the regime to clean out the stronghold and gather information. This project will take some time. Papillon is considered to lead it, since she has been on the spot long enough. She's got a knight as the nominal commander, but she's the investigator in charge.

Someone is dispatched to restore the bodies, and appropriate religious figures

As to the confiscation, Lance and Alice agree, and Bill offers to write up the legal case to present to the King. He'll let the King decide what the disposition of the confiscated goods will be, but he'll put in a good word for Avis.

Getting meetings with the council and such takes some time, but it doable.

Celina has eaten and watered. She presents herself to her father, King Corwin to discuss serious matters pending on upholding the Universe.

Celina says, "Thank you for seeing me. I come to you in grief that your realm has been tainted by the Klybesian corruptions and aggressions. But more importantly, I look to make all Patterns safer by asking you your view on the Jewel of Rebma and whether you can assist and instruct in returning it to Rebma. My suspicions that it lies with Moire you may understand."

Corwin greets her in his study, which she has come to know well. It seems to be where he conducts Family business. He offers her the ritual drink, and the place is properly equipped with ginger water for her.

"I appreciate your help rooting out the nest of Klybesians. And, as always, Celina, I'm happy to help where I can, but Rebma is as you know, not my area of expertise. I didn't write this Pattern with the Rebman jewel, and I don't have a lot of experience with it. But I can talk about Moire and I can answer whatever questions I know the answers to, if it'll help."

"That's all fair and true," Celina responds. "Thank you. What I had in mind is not Rebman expertise but mentoring as a King to a Pattern realm in peril. Or exercises of the perception that would put me ready to wrench the jewel away from Moire if it comes to that sorry end. Moire has had time to study the stone, but I don't think that gives her a clear advantage when I have walked the Pattern. What do you think?"

Corwin frowns. "I don't think your--Moire has walked the Pattern, which I think we have previously established, so you have a clear advantage. But while I know that you need to have walked the Pattern to use the Jewel of Judgement, I don't know that she has to have walked it to use its counterpart. So I'm not sure how the two advantages fall out against each other. The Rebman jewel is the wild card."

Celina is delighted and distracted by his choice of words, "Yes! It is the wild card. Wild as the seas. It's a bit of poetic truth I believe figures in the survival of the Pattern in Moins' absence. What would you tell me of actually using the Jewel of Judgement, so that I may have a step on Moire there?"

"Something is happening outside my ken with the Pattern of Rebma. Moins is dead, yet as you say, the Pattern continues. Something's holding it together. It's not the Jewel of Judgement because I'd know if it were. My first guess is that whatever the power of the Jewel of Rebma may be, much of it is tied up in maintaining the Pattern," Corwin explains.

"As far as the Jewel of Judgement goes--I don't know that you have the skill for this yet, but--can you envision the Pattern in your mind?”

Celina provides an expression that leans into yes----

Before Celina can answer, though, Corwin says, "Damn, I forgot Gerard was sending one of your cousins through now. Bide a moment, please."

There's a pause, then, "Hello Gerard. Are you ready?"

Then, "Hello," Corwin says to someone on the other end of the connection. "Will you come through to Paris?”

Misao steps through the Trump contact. They appear to be a young woman in their mid-twenties, clad in black robes that appear obviously formal, with small white St. Cyr crests on the sleeves, breast, and back. A gold fan in tucked into the left side of a black sash. They are wearing white split socks and sandals and carrying a small trunk. Their skin is a pale bluish white and their eyes are silver. Their hair is in a subdued, formal updo, and is entirely black save for one silver lock. Once through, they put the trunk down and stand patiently waiting for Corwin or Celina to speak.

Celina is emeraldsea dark of eyes, skin, and hair. She today is wearing much more than the last time Misao saw her briefly. The halter gown is bluesea stripes and buttons on cloud white. It is high waisted and long sleeved.

Celina appears surprised but smiles at Misao with curiosity. She pauses to give space to the King's welcome.

Corwin says, "Misao, welcome to Paris. I am Corwin, brother to your father Lucas' mother Florimel, and I rule here. Be welcome in my kingdom.

Misao bows deeply, first to Corwin, and then to Celina.

"We meet for the first time, Korwin-kokuoo. I am of Hikariguni, the child of Kimiko-dono, and of Xanadu, the child of Lucas, the son of Florimeru-ohime. My name is Misao. I am well. I hope you are well. Thank you for your kind welcome."

"You're welcome."

He looks to Celina and says, "Celina, this is Misao, who is Lucas' child from a distant Shadow. Gerard has sent her to me so she can meet her father's widow and her half-siblings Hope and Philippe. I will need a moment to let Alice know Misao has arrived so Misao can refresh herself."

Then he looks to Misao. "Misao, my daughter Celina is Queen of Rebma through right of conquest and through her mother who preceded her as Queen."

Celina, ignoring Parisian curtseys entirely, edges forward a halfstep. "I feel I should know you better. Are you one of the cousins that were held by the Klybesian Order? Events have pushed aside getting to know each better."

Misao smiles. "I greet you again, Serina-jooo. I hope you are also well. Yes, I was one of those rescued from the Kuribeseans (Misao stumbles a bit over that word and their accent becomes more pronounced). I am deeply grateful for your assistance, as well as that of my other cousins."

Celina nods clearly more intrigued by the substance of Misao's ability to be real and mutable at the same time. "My brother, Merlin, is accomplished at the Art of Bodyform. It seems to me it would be wonderful for a range of dance presentations. In Rebma dance is a major Art."

Corwin, for once, shuts up and lets someone else talk.

Mindful of their recent lesson from Gerard on family etiquette, Misao looks at Corwin for permission before replying to Celina.

Corwin nods encouragement.

"I saw your brother transform during the battle. I would consider it an honor and privilege to learn from him. I am interested to receive a different perspective from my teachers in Hikariguni."

Celina balances within, absorbing the inner twist that is how little Corwin seems a father with how much Merlin seems her younger brother. She's excited to introduce him: or expand his friends. Blessings on TaKhi.

But Celina cannot speak this way in front of her father. She says, "Merlin is about. He was instrumental in clearing some Klybesians from Paris. I promise to introduce you."

Misao bows again. "Thank you, Serina-jooo. Since you asked, I am also more than willing to demonstrate the dances of Hikariguni. We do not generally transform during dances, but there are some forms that are naturally more flexible and agile, and these are preferred for dancing. Although some can also be useful combat forms."

Misao looks back at Corwin, still trying to take their cues from him.

Corwin says, "Celina and I were discussing some family business. But if you'd rather accompany Misao--" he looks to Celina "--that can wait. Otherwise I know you wanted to meet Solace, your stepmother, and your sister and brother, Misao."

That sounds very important to Celina. At least the shocking discovery was to her. Celina puts a hard stop to her curiosity regards Misao for the moment, opening a space where the new younger can connect to her father's legacy as soon as able.

Misao bows to both. "I do not wish to trespass on your time. If I might have a guide to someplace that I might sleep tonight, I will arrange my things and be available to meet with Otoosan's family at their convenience."

"Of course. Lady Alice, my chatelaine, will see you to your rooms and send someone to tell Solace you're here." Corwin uses a bellpull to call for Alice, or at least for someone to send for Alice, and soon enough Misao is on their way.

Misao thanks Corwin for his help and welcomes Alice's help.

Corwin turns back to Celina. "That was bad timing. Where were we?"

"She seems extraordinary even for our family," Celina says.

A pause then, "We were talking about Jewels and Order. You said that mental traverse of the Jewel was involved. Explain? It has a mind?"

"I don't think so," Corwin says. "Not--like that. If you could do it, you'd know what I meant. Without disparagement, I suspect you need a lot more experience in using the Pattern to know how to do what I'm talking about. I know I can do it, and Random and Ben can. Of your generation, I don't know how many, if any. But you don't have to be attuned to the Jewel to do it.

"But the first step is to be able to envision the Pattern in your mind," he concludes. "Ultimately I think you will need to untangle matters in Rebma with the Sapphire to become Queen the way I am. But Patterns are great mysteries, Celina. You've learned the hard way what they can cost. Are you sure this is what you want?"

Blessed storms. Is that his own regrets peeking out, or does he actually care about me?

Celina swallows an emotion, "Father, Pattern is a great and terrifying mystery but the Pattern has already chosen me. Do I let it fall to Llewella or Silhouette? Because I don't think either of them love Rebma as much as I do. Do I wait for Lark? No. Even if I never measure up to the costs still to come, I can hand knowledge off to those coming after me. And there is the obvious damage Moire can do as a faithless throne. So yes, I'm getting the Sapphire back."

"Getting the Sapphire back is not what I'm talking about, Celina." Corwin shakes his head. "I urge you to do that even if you do nothing else toward taking on the Queenship. What I'm trying to tell you is that you won't be Celina any more if you do what you're proposing. And maybe not in way that transcends the person you are to make you greater. But before you make any decisions, you--we--should find out what Moins did. Because I think we both know something is off-kilter in Rebma. Your mother hasn't made Rebma her own either, and Moins is long-gone. By everything we know, the Pattern in Rebma should have died with Moins. But it didn't."

Celina feels her heart beat fiercely with each jolt he delivers.

You won't be Celina anymore.
Something off-kilter. We both know.
Pattern should have died.

That last one isn't a surprise but it twists a knife of emotional damage that hasn't healed. Khela. Will. Die. Don't let her walk the Pattern. Promise. Promise.

Celina breathes in the pale thinness of Paris. Why can't all the cities have water instead of air? It just isn't natural.

Celina huffs a half breath at her father and the Takhi comes back to her. The pain retreats and her heart steadies. "Thank you for offering to help. I accept your pledge. Is it possible the compact with the Dame and Tritons is some sort of Moins Battery that trickles life into the Pattern? Moins' absence is so huge that it must be something very big propping things up. Yes? You know Moins left to Deal with Tir's Queen and never returned."

"I didn't know that. But it doesn't entirely surprise me," Corwin says. "We're all living in the shadow of our elders' bad decisions. I can't say that your Triton theory is wrong but it doesn't feel right to me. But something is holding it together. If someone like the Klybesians who were supporting Huon figure out what, or who, it is--" he stops there and lets Celina draw the obvious conclusions.

Celina draws carefully upon her Takhi balance. "It isn't a theory that feels right to me, either. But there is something large we are missing. Much larger than the view the Monks are hoping for. But these Monks are dangerous to every kingdom of Order. If the Queen of Air taps into them it becomes a crisis. We found another Family member being held in Durance by them. Cordelia will turn out to be important, I think."

Celina is angry but surfing the wave of that current to keep a meaningful exchange going with her father. Her anger is fuel to get movement on the threats defying them all. Which brings things back to Moire.

Moving further into that something that will end the Celina she still believes in if her father is right.

"At the moment I've helped Vere with his sister and freed several Family from the Monks. Now I want to get a hand on Moire. She's hiding nearby. Can you help directly?"

"I will lend you what aid I can, but I don't know a way to magically find her, if that's what you're asking," Corwin answers. He spread his hands, palms out. "It's not that I'm avoiding the question; I simply don't have the answer you're hoping for."

Celina smiles, "What I expected was that if a disgraced ruler who was also my lover came into my city, I would know she was fixed on building a power base and I would put clever people in charge of knowing where she was. On the other hand, perhaps I've put you in an awkward pinch of prior promises. I withdraw the question."

Celina adds, "I will leave in peace. I assume I can send people to look for Moire with your leave?"

Corwin was apparently so stuck on his own theories that Celina's actual question hadn't occurred to him. "Of course," he says, "but I don't think she's in the city. Apart from the question of my agents, who have been looking for her--Flora's also been searching with her own agents--I'm reasonably sure she's not here. And while I don't have the Jewel of Judgement right now, I did have it for a time recently. If the Sapphire had been close enough then, I would have sensed it, and didn't. So if she's returned to the city proper, it's been in the last couple of days, or without the Sapphire. Does that help?"

Ah. So she's definitely here.

"It does, yes. I'll talk to Bend before I return to Rebma. I'm sure she has hidden it somewhere because if she's taken by Aunt Florimel, Moire will want leverage of whereabouts of the Jewel."

Celina steps to him, "Father. Corwin. Thank you for the warning. I'm not the Celina I wanted to be and I'm not yet the Celina I have to be. I appreciate that it matters to you."

She puts a hand lightly to his cheek, "If you need to talk. If you have regrets about Paris, I'll listen. Just call. I already know that they stop treating you as a person once you shoulder up a Pattern City. It is very lonely. Think of your father in that way and you'll realize you can do better than he."

"I'm trying," is what Corwin says.

Alice proves to be a capable looking blonde woman with kind eyes and a cheerful smile. She appears to be in charge of the domestic arrangements in the palace, but she talks about her husband, Bill, so she's not Corwin's wife. She was told Misao was coming, so a suite of rooms has been prepared in the family quarters for Misao, and some clothes that Misao might find comfortable.

(Misao has transforming robes, so new garments are appreciated but aren't necessary. Alice and Corwin don't know that, though, so they prepared.)

(Corwin lives in the Louvre, which in his Paris is a royal palace, not a museum, and the furnishings and taste approximate Paris of 1905, to give a general idea of the vibe. Fortunately for Misao the trend of Japonisme hasn't entirely faded in Paris, so some Japanese garments are available.)

"Once we have you properly settled, what are your plans for meeting Solace and Hope and Philippe?" Alice asks briskly, once she's showed Misao the quarters she's allotted for Misao. "Solace has been told a child of Lucas is coming to Paris, but we didn't know enough to say more. And of course Princess Florimel is still dealing with whatever your cousins were doing to counter the Klybesians at Le Havre, so you'll make your plans directly with Solace. Normally Florimel is a little protective of her grandchildren."

Misao sets down their trunk and listens politely until Alice is done.

"I was hoping to meet with Soracu-dono and Firoimeru-ohime before meeting my siblings. If Firoimeru-ohime is busy, then I would request a meeting with Soracu-dono. Where and when I leave to her convenience. If you could please send someone to let her know?"

"I've taken the liberty of doing so already. When we told her that you were coming, Solace wanted to be notified the moment you arrived. She loved your father very much," Alice says with something that might be a touch of pity. "I think she's hoping to hear about your memories of him, and with him."

Misao nods. "Thank you very much Arisu-dono. I am ready."

Soon enough Misao is escorted from their quarters and a page leads Misao to a different set of apartments in the palace. Once the page announces Misao, the door opens into an airy set of rooms where a woman, thin and blonde with wavy hair, has already come to her feet. "You must be Misao! I'm so pleased to meet you finally. I'm Solace, Lucas' wife. Do come in and sit down, and--is there anything I can get for you? Food or drink? I thought we should talk for a bit before you meet Hope and Philippe."

Misao advances into the room and gracefully kneels on the carpet, bowing deeply and touching their forehead to the floor, before rising and moving to the indicated chair.

Solace has already moved to raise Misao to their feet but Misao is too quick for them.

"I respectfully greet you for the first time, Soracu-dono. I am of Hikariguni, the child of Kimiko-dono, and of Xanadu, the child of Lucasu-dono. I am well and hope you are well. I thank you for your welcome and offer you my deepest condolences."

"But you're Lucas' child. Those condolences are for you, equally. I'm so sorry we didn't have time together with him as a family," Solace says. Solace appears to be at home in the styles of Paris, or at least accustomed enough to them that she can walk in the narrow skirts. Her clothing is all grey with black accents, which Misao knows from her father is mourning dress. Second mourning, so it has been some time since the loss, presumably of Lucas.

Misao bows deeply, sitting. "Thank you, Soracu-dono." Misao will accept tea, without cream or sugar, and waits for Solace to indicate the topic of conversation.

Solace calls for tea and a page is sent off to fetch it. Much as in Xanadu, the pages are adolescent children in royal livery: in Paris black and silver, with the badge of the silver rose.

"I'm sorry to say that Lucas never told me about you. I knew he had a mistress, probably more than one, and other children. I wasn't supposed to know, but I did. I know there's an older child, Max, that I haven't met, because the Princess seems to think it's unwise to introduce him to Hope and Philippe." The comparison to the apparent appropriateness of Misao meeting them is noted by the way Solace doesn't mention it.

"So I know nothing about you, or Hikariguni," a word that Solace makes an admirable attempt to pronounce, "or Lady Kimiko." Another clearly foreign term, but she gives it a good attempt, putting the accent in the place that it should be in Thari. "And I don't assume you know anything about me. Where would you like to begin?"

"I should begin at the beginning, I suppose. My mother, Kimiko-dono, is the ruler of the Shadow called Hikariguni. Hikariguni is a place of spirits. The greater spirits, like my mother, are called kami, and the lesser spirits, like myself, are called yokai. There are many different kinds of yokai, and many are shapeshifters, as I am. Therefore, although this, my default form, is female, I can be either male, or female, or neither, as needed."

This is clearly a little disturbing to Solace, but not too much so. She says nothing, though.

"I call Lucasu-dono 'Otoosan', which is 'my father', in the language of Hikariguni. Everyone in Hikariguni knew that he was not of Hikariguni, but my mother accepted him as an equal and chose him to father her heir. I am that heir, her only child, and to my knowledge, his only child in that Shadow. He taught me how to paint Trumps."

Solace's brow furrows, and she bites her lower lip.

"I was kidnapped from my mother's house two nights ago while I slept by a group which I am told are called the Klybesians, who apparently had kidnapped a number of cousins who were unaware of their heritage for medical experiments. We were rescued by a force of family members and brought to Xanadu, where I pledged my allegiance to Tenno Heika, whom you would call Random. That is when and where I was told that Otoosan was dead and that he had family other than my mother and myself. I came as soon as possible to meet you."

Here, Solace nods.

"I intend to avenge him, although I am told that I have to pass a test before I have the ability to do so. I mourn him as is fitting in the rites of Hikariguni. I honor you as his wife, and hope to be a good older sibling to your children, if you will allow it. I beg that you will look upon me with favor, as an ally and friend."

Misao bows deeply again.

"You're a little beyond the need for a stepmother, but I hope we will be friends, Misao. There's a lot you don't know, I think; we'll get to some of the important things in a moment. But first: my father , well, my mother’s husband, was a life peer of Amber and my mother wanted nothing more than to marry me off well. When the war came, and suddenly there were eligible grandchildren of Oberon, she encouraged me to spend time with them. Your father was very kind to me, and--I know I'm not the brightest light in the city, but Lucas never made me feel less. And then I fell pregnant and he married me, and after I had Hope, I fell pregnant again, and had Philippe. And we decided to stop, because bearing children can take a lot out of a girl." Which Misao intuits is something of a painful understatement for Solace.

Misao nods sympathetically. Obviously, they haven't lived the experience of creating life, but they respect Solace's pain.

"After the war was finished, and people began to arrive in Paris as well as Amber, Lucas decided that we should live here. He was involved with a number of projects. I don't know all the details, because I was having headaches at the time--which I found out later were--you say you know about the Trumps, Misao? Do you know what happens when you try to make one of someone who isn't Amber royalty?"

Misao shakes their head. "As far as I knew, he and I were the only ones who could create -- or use -- Trumps. I only made three under his supervision, one of each of us and one of my home."

"You must not, ever." Solace moves to take Misao's hands and firmly squeeze them once for emphasis, if Misao permits.

Misao permits.

"There is a rumor that King Eric, Prince Jerod and Princess Cambina's father, also sired me. I haven't asked my mother, but in any case it's clear I don't have the strength that Jerod and Cambina have--Cambina had--to do all the things they do. But Lucas wanted to test the theory and he and Ossian made would-be Trumps of me. They could never contact me with them, but their attempts made me violently ill. I had terrible headaches; I thought my head would split open.

"Your father never told me what happened. I only found out because Ossian told me after his death. Ossian was very close to your father and you will want to talk to him, I'm sure. A very close friend." Solace lays strong emphasis on those. "But that's only an aside to what happened to Lucas.

Misao nods and presses Solace's hands.

"I found him, after his death. He was in his chair in the room where he painted, a cracked piece of the mirror buried in his chest. He looked so surprised; I was going to ask him what was happening until I saw the glass--" Solace claps a hand over her mouth and closes her eyes for a moment.

"I screamed and they came to help me, but he was already dead, of course. And there's only a limited amount they can do. Because what they concluded is that he was trying to make a Trump of Moire, who was the Queen of Rebma, and she killed him through the mirror for it."

Misao nods again, their eyes closing in pain and sympathy. After a few moments, they open them again.

"I am truly sorry. Seeing the death of someone you love like that is not easy, I know."

A pause, as Misao considers their words.

"I can see how the identity of Otoosan's killer creates... difficulties. It must be very frustrating for you. And my siblings... how do they take it?"

"They don't know the details; they're too young for such things," Solace explains. "Philippe is still toddling and Hope isn't much older. Not old enough for the schoolroom yet. Certainly neither of them are old enough to do anything, if there's anything to be done." She shakes her head. "But the important thing for you is to be careful with the Trumps. You must not make them secretly as Lucas did. I would not have his child repeat his mistakes."

Misao nods again. "Thank you for telling me this. I will be careful, Sorasu-dono. And Obaa-san? My grandmother?"

"Princess Florimel has taken it very hard. She was very fond of Lucas, and she has helped me a great deal. Protected me, made sure the children and I are safe and cared for. As far as I know," Solace hastens to add, "nobody has tried to harm us, or holds us responsible for either an attack on Queen Moire, but--if there had been, the Princess has ensured we would be safe here.

"As for how she means to respond, I am not close in her counsel about such matters." Misao intuits that Solace does not particularly want to be, either, and perhaps is a little frightened of her husband's mother. "She is a good friend but I think she would also be a bad enemy. To you, though, I expect she will be a friend, if only for dear Lucas' sake."

Misao nods again. "Thank you. For the moment... I have no more questions. If you have any more, I am more than happy to answer them to the best of my ability."

"You could tell me more about your mother, and your home, and what Lucas enjoyed there," Solace suggests, a bit wistfully. "It's a side of Lucas I know little about."

"My home..." Misao's voice is wistful with longing and their gaze is somehow inward, as they see vividly what they are describing, "My home is a place of beauty, and grace, and balance. There are tall mountains crowned with snow. There are cold, crystal clear rivers. There are forests of trees with pale blossoms in the spring and red leaves in the autumn. There are green fertile fields. There are beaches where you can sit on the sun-warmed sand and watch the brilliant stars move overhead all night long, and just when you think you cannot bear the beauty any longer, the sun rises out of the ocean before you and everything is fire and light and glory."

Misao's gaze turns from inward to outward. "I cannot speak for Otoosan, of course, but I think that that beauty was important to him. I also think he had an interest in the many forms of yokai that live in Hikariguni. I know he spent time drawing them."

"Drawing them only, or Drawing them? Or do you know?" Solace asks. There is an emphasis on the repetition of the word drawing.

Misao considers the question, thinking back.

"I never saw him attempt a Trump of any of them. But he may have been making preparatory sketches for later use. And, also, I was away from my mother's house for periods of time, as she sent me to spend time with the various kami of Hikariguni. I have no knowledge of what he might have done in my absence."

"I'm relieved to hear that," Solace says. "Dear Lucas learned the art from his Uncle Brand, and I think the family--certainly your grandmother--felt Brand was a poor influence on him."

Solace lets that piece of information sit for a moment before changing the subject. "Perhaps you would like to meet Hope and Philippe?"

Misao smiles. “I would be grateful for the opportunity.”

Solace stands up and goes to the door, not to the outer chamber where the pages will be waiting, but to the inner door that leads deeper into her apartments. She opens it and calls, "Philippe, Hope, come to Mama," a word which Solace pronounces with a noticeably Parisian accent to Misao's ears. And momentarily, the two children come through the door.

Hope is perhaps eight or nine years old, still chubby-cheeked with youth, and has her mother's blonde hair, but with curls. She wears a loose dress in lavender, which Misao knows is a color of second mourning, and has stockings and little leather shoes in grey that coordinate with them. Her hair ribbons are also lavender.

Philippe is a few years younger, perhaps six. He wears a little charcoal colored wool suit with a jacket and knickers, white knee socks and leather shoes to match his sister's. His shirt is white and high-collared and his necktie is a deeper mourning purple.

"Misao, these are your siblings, Hope and Philippe. Philippe and Hope, this is Misao, who is also Lucas' child. Misao has come to Paris to meet you."

"Hello, Misao," the children say in stereo, which breaks a little as they try to pronounce Misao's name.

Misao bows slightly to the children. "Hello, Hope. Hello, Philippe. It is very good to meet you. I hope you are well."

Hope makes a courtesy in return and says, "I am well, thank you, and pleased to meet you." Her accent is Parisian.

Her brother bows and adds, "Me too," which could be an answer to either or both to Misao's questions. "Have you met any of the others?" he asks Misao, and clarifies: "Our other siblings."

Misao nods. "I have met Max, who is older than you but younger than I. He lives in Xanadu, which is where I came from most recently. My home is a place called Hikariguni."

They seem to have heard of Max; at least there's no surprise at the name.

Philippe speaks up first. "I don't know Hikariguni. Is it related to Hamakaido?"

"We lived in Amber when we were very little, but we've been here in Paris for a long time," Hope explains.

Misao questions Philippe about Hamakaido, trying to draw out any connections. Their manner is polite, gentle, but not condescending. They treat both children with respect and patience. When the conversation permits, they will tell something of Hikariguni, sticking to the parts that would be most suitable for children.

Philippe knows a little about Hamakaido but Solace is the one who fills in more information. Her family was involved in trade in the old Golden Circle, as many in Amber were, and Solace picked up quite a bit for all that she might be considered a bit dim by royal standards. Her understanding is that it was a highly militaristic society, ruled by samurai, and exported a lot of weapons. Also the head of the royal guard during the Regency was from Hamakaido.

The children are interested in stories about the yokai and kami and in return tell stories of all the interesting things they've seen in the palace gardens and greenhouses. It's clear to Misao that they'd also like to talk more about Max but they're reticent in front of their mother, Hope moreso than Philippe. Hope is patient and a good listener. Philippe would like to have company in lessons, or perhaps lessons from Misao, in feats of arms.

As the conversation draws to a natural conclusion, they rise from their seat.

"It has been a great pleasure and honor meeting with you, Imooto (here they bow slightly to Hope), and Otooto (here they bow slightly to Philippe). That is how Hikariguni calls you, as my younger sister and younger brother. I hope that you both will be in good health until we can meet again."

Misao bows more deeply to Solace. "And you also, Soracu-dono. Thank you for meeting with me. Be well until we meet again."

Then they retire to their chamber.