It can't be more than fifteen minutes (12 minutes 36 seconds, if you ask him) before Jovian, with the aid of the occasional page and guard, catches up with Aisling. He seems a bit...stressed.
"Aisling, I'm sorry to hassle you, especially when I come begging a boon...it's just that there's no time, and if I make time I don't know what shell I'm cracking open, not after the Isles, and...."
Aisling looks minorly baffled, but not closed.
He stops. He breathes. As little as she truly knows of Jovian, Aisling can be certain he is Not Normally Like This.
"One of my people," he starts again, "is in need of the talents of a healer beyond the ordinary." His emphasis on 'ordinary' makes it synonymous with 'natural.'
And here she looks worried for Jovian's man...
"I feel a far greater debt to him than to any of the rest - he took on far more than I had any right to ask him to. I know what you've done for so many of our wounded--" A suppressed reaction here, something deep and painful that he's not ready to voice yet.
His tone drops a notch, as if a softer tone will more easily contain the roiling tumult of emotions beneath. "If you would come with me to Ruby Falls, to see what happened to M'corli's eyes...I would be deeply in your debt."
"Of course I will," Aisling says, already turning quick steps to where Canareth waits. "Tell me what was done to them..."
Jovian turns and paces her toward the castle's main gate. "Something was thrown in his eyes, that was the best description I got, but a normal flushing was no help. It happened in a struggle with a local sorceress, so I assume it wasn't anything ordinary. And I don't assume it was an actual substance either." He shakes his head, frustrated at his own lack of adequate knowledge. "I don't have the training to be sure," he adds, dropping his voice a little in confidence.
Aisling frowns. "Maybe we should bring him to the castle physicker, too... Or Prince Gerard, or Bleys. This does work best when there are all manner of things working to aid the hurt one..." She has confidence in herself; this statement isn't evidence of worry on that front.
"We'll bring him back if you think we should, but I want your opinion first. Prince Gerard has a full plate between the transition, the Isles and who knows what else...and frankly," he adds, the confidential tone returning just a little, "I trust Bleys as far as I can throw Canareth."
By which time, that latter worthy is probably in view.
If Aisling seems ready to shape-shift, Jovian will raise a hand. "Don't, please," he'll ask. "It will be faster if you ride with us."
Aisling raises an eyebrow, glances at the guards, frowns, and nods.
Jovian points out where to step, how to hold on, and shortly Aisling is settled in front of him between two of Canareth's neck ridges. Feeling her extraordinary heat again, breathing the lilac-on-ocean- breeze of her scent, brings strong and barely suppressed reactions to the rider - suppressed for the guard's benefit, as she couldn't see them anyway, but only feel a momentary tension come and go through him.
Aisling's just a bit tense the whole time.
He gives the command to launch, and with an immensely powerful spring of bronze legs, a tremendous beat of wings, they are suddenly aloft. "You'll need to brace yourself for this, Aisling," Jovian says over the rushing wind. "Bitter cold and no air, but it lasts exactly eight seconds and then we're out again over Ruby Falls. The dragons take shortcuts through something very like the Abyss!"
Aisling nods, holding on to Canareth tightly, and says "Give me a word of warning before we go through."
The Shadowflyer gives Canareth coordinates, as crisp and clear an image of Ruby Falls from above as one could hope for.
"Going between in three, two, one. Now."
Aisling takes a breath and holds it, and in the nothing between she looks around with darting glances like a bird, and then closes her eyes and tries to get a feel for it, even loosening her hands's grip on Canareth a bit.
You can't tell if you've managed to open your eyes or not. It's not like any place, it's nothing, the absence of place. You're not sure if you are breathing or if your heart is really beating or if you're just imagining that it's pounding and you can't tell if you even exist.
Then you do, again.
So this is yet a third black nothingness, not Abyssal, not Oberonal. Aisling subducts her irritation.
[This is where many people actually manage to get the scream out. :)]
Bah. Aisling endures. ;)
When they come out again she looks around in a flurry, identifies the place, and becomes less tense.
"You get used to it, really," Jovian says with a chuckle in his voice. "It's never taken us more than eight seconds, though we've not tried cross-Shadow."
He guides Canareth to circle in to the dragonriders' encampment. //Please let Tamaranth's rider know we're coming to see M'corli,// Jovian instructs, recalling Markyta had been organizing the healers.
On the ground, he keeps greetings warm but perfunctory, making his way to find green Antrith's rider.
Aisling does likewise with the greetings. "Can I speak to the one who has been treating him before I see him?" she asks.
"That would be me. I am T'dor, green Shalith's rider."
"T'dor," Aisling says with a sunwarm smile. "I remember you." She spares no time for reminiscences, though. "What has happened to M'corli's eyes, and what has been done so far?"
"And I remember you, although I do not recall being formally introduced."
"I am Aisling," she says with equanimity.
"I'm told that someone threw something into them. A dust or a liquid, perhaps. There is no scarring, thank the Egg. We've flushed it repeatedly, but he hasn't regained his sight. He had been in considerable pain, but that seems to have lessened. Frankly, we don't know what to do. We're hoping he recovers with rest." T'dor does not sound optimistic.
"Well. I shall see what I can do," Aisling says with an acknowledging little bow.
Aisling allows herself to be conducted to M'corli, where she immediately makes him the sole focus of her attention, puts herself on his level (whatever level that might be), and introduces herself, her voice warm and clear, "M'corli? Hi. This is Aisling." She reaches over and lightly clasps his hand. "I helped patch together the people you carried away from Chaos... All of those people survived, and their tales of draconic saviors are much in demand today in Amber," she asides with an assuring smile he can hear in her voice. "I have the gift to do much more than simple patching. J'rim has brought me here, and if you wish, I will see what I can do for you."
He smiles in your general direction.
She gives his hand a tiny reassuring squeeze.
T'dor says "Blindness is not completely unheard of in Dragonriders, Lady Healer. Thread has been known to do it to unlucky riders. It's not like seeing, but he is telepathically linked to Antrith. It's a pity we don't have any fire lizards."
"How would fire lizards help?"
"Empathic bonding," Jovian pitches in, "as trainable as a fairly smart canine, and small enough to perch on a shoulder. A dragon can't accompany you indoors."
Aisling looks genuinely interested, and pleased at the explanation.
He seems to entertain a further thought or three, but only for a moment before filing them for later.
M'corli snorts. "The pain is gone. Antrith was a great help there, really. She's been very steady." T'dor nods. M'corli turns back towards Aisling. "So, Lady Healer, what's my medicine?"
" 'Tis mostly a matter of extending my influence to you. If you choose to try it, 'twould only require that you be open to me, relax, think positively about healing (or at least, distract yourself with entirely unrelated thoughts); and meanwhile I would focus on you. It might take many sessions, and it might be that I can not aid you, but it does not feel unpleasant to try. Would you like to try?"
"These people are rationalists, Aisling," Jovian reminds her, sotto voce. "Less of a non-explanation might be appropriate. The 'influence' you're talking about - it's got something to do with conscious regulation of your body's processes and reactions, right?" It is as much question as suggestion of how to explain without using Chaos-charged terms like 'shapeshifting'.
Aisling looks at Jovian with polite reserve, but maybe he gets the impression that her purple form is chuckling merrily. Rationality is so subjective. "That is a worthwhile perspective, Sir Jovian," she states assuringly. Back to M'corli, "Perhaps you have heard of humans who can regulate their heartbeat, or temperature? Or you have noted how in battle you move faster than otherwise? I am a master of this kind of thing. Perhaps I can use these abilities you possess to aid you."
M'corli shrugs. "So, what's the plan? Put me in combat so that my pulse goes up and I heal more quickly? " His grin takes the sting out of the words. "Honestly, Lady Healer, I'll try nearly anything. Blind riders are the stuff of ballads and I want to live a bit before I become cast in song."
" 'Tis a matter of self-regulation of the condition of the body," Aisling explains with monk-like patience; she thinks he's got it and he's just joking, but she's just making sure. "For your part, all you need do is think positively about regaining your sight, have patience, and be open to what I am doing; which will not look like much at all. Do you wish to do this?" And by now it's probably clear to even the most desert-like among them that she isn't going to so much as wipe his nose until she gets a clear yes out of him.
"T'dor?" M'corli asks.
The older rider nods, then catches himself. "I don't see that it could hurt."
M'corli says "Sure. Let's try this."
"Very well," Aisling says with a warm smile in her voice, and she begins. Focusing on the feeling she gets through his hand, still held in hers, she examines his face and the patterns of his body intently for some minutes, though what she is doing is below this level. She lays the edge of her other hand, the part that is whole, on his face, lightly brushing his closed eyes. Then she lets her own eyes close, wraps her half hand around her left hand, and just psychically leans, using her reservoirs of hope and secrets.
He closes his eyes as well, and waits with Aisling, quietly at first. As far as Aisling (or anyone) can tell, there is no obvious effect.
Aisling grunts faintly and mentally backs off some, shifting her attention then to a different approach. Hearkening back to the Valley of Dreams two weeks ago, she moves to settle in slowly, seeping deeper into the idea of M'corli's body until she can find a plane of engagement, or see what the problem is.
You settle in, letting yourself be submerged and allowing the knowledge of what it is to be M'corli's body to seep through your consciousness. It is a subtle knowledge, and oddly you find that in some ways that are too complex to grok fully, he is merged with the dragon Antrith. You feel her presence as a weight, and you are glad that M'corli does not feel threatened by your actions.
After some time, you are ready to give up. M'corli's body should be seeing. Everything works, there is no damage. There is no reason for it.
It is then that you catch it. A smell like the color of burning metal. Something that doesn't belong. Something you recognize. Something that you can't fix.
Magic.
Aisling hangs thinking about this for a bit, and then backs out slowly and easily.
When she is entirely awake once more, M'corli's hands released and all, she can't help but glance around once to see what has changed, how much time has passed. Then she brushes M'corli's forehead with her hand lightly, and leans back on her haunches. "There is nothing wrong with your body, M'Corli Antrith's rider. Every aspect works in harmony with every other, each working at the best of which it is capable. Your eyes, in particular, are undamaged, and were when I arrived," she nods to T'dor. "It is magic that blocks your sight from you; and that is a path I have not walked."
"Faranth shat a brick and died of a square tailfork," Jovian mutters, just within Aisling's hearing range. "Another reason to go back and scrag that wench."
In more normal tones, he says, "We have people back at the Castle who know that path well. We'll get them to see what they can do before we leave for Calusa."
[M'Corli]
"With due respect sir, there are quite a few of us who will volunteer for
wench-scragging duty. Including me."
"I wasn't expecting a shortage of hands, M'corli," Jovian responds with grim satisfaction. "It's no more than you're due."
He looks around a moment and continues in a tone for general consumption. "Speaking of which. I need L'tarn, V'laren, M'hall, Kourin and you for a few minutes. Aisling, you're welcome to sit in on this confab if you like."
Aisling has moved away from M'corli, and is sitting, looking kind of tired. And indecisive, for a moment or so. "I don't suppose you have any rations this time...?" she suggests with a bit of a smile at the corner of her mouth.
If provisioning the dragonriders hasn't been seen to already, Jovian gives the appropriate orders to riders and "requests" to Rangers to see that necessities are met for a few days at least, including the immediate need to get some calories and protein into the purple chick.
It is made so.
//They hear.//
The four leaders arrive in short order.
Kourin looks at T'dor, who shakes his head. Aloud, he says "I've got to take a look at the others," and departs.
Jovian takes the five aside, and again invites Aisling to join them if she chooses. "Ruby business," he clarifies for her benefit.
Aisling nods, smiling a bit, and sits off at the edges of the talk, quietly making a large amount of food disappear.
"You five have been chosen, due to your strong and intelligent leadership - and courage, and exemplary conduct under fire," these spoken so directly at M'corli that he need not see the wingleader's eyes upon him, "for signal honors from the Lord Holder of Amber, King Random. If you accept, you will be inducted as knights of the Order of the Ruby." Jovian spends a few minutes on what a 'knight' is in Amber's heirarchy, what the Crown can reasonably demand, what a knight can reasonably demand of the Crown, and how all this can mesh with a dragonrider's life in an Interval, particularly with establishment of open relations between Calusa and Amber, in which they'll be instrumental. (Yes, L'tarn, this means you'll be able to come back with fair frequency.)
He further explains that he intends to discuss with Random the import of their continuing obligations to Calusa in this context and ensure there won't be a conflict before anyone has to take any oaths.
Questions and reactions are welcome.
Aisling is smiling, pleased at the talk and at the people hearing it. If Jovian hadn't knighted them, she'd've done it...
Jovian smiles back unreservedly, happy with the company he keeps on both sides.
The main question is how these relations will work, if it takes J'rim or one of his kin to help dragonriders move between Calusa and Amber. Dragons and riders are somewhat restless and the feeling that the Isles contain unfinished business is strong. Once they understand their obligations and privileges, they are all pleased at the idea. M'hall wants to know more about how they are going to help Calusa. He also wonders how much time has passed. V'laren wants to know if the King understands about riders' bonds with their dragons.
Taken in order:
Part of establishing regular relations will involve working a path into Shadow to make travel easier. How much easier remains to be seen, but at any rate J'rim has 18 cousins and nine aunts and uncles alive besides J'lin and himself. Travel won't be easy for a while, but it shouldn't be unduly rare either.
The Isles are definitely unfinished business, but blood-right lies with Lord Vere, J'rim's cousin and half brother to Lady Avis, whom M'corli was instrumental in rescuing. J'rim will offer the services of all who volunteer to assist Lord Vere - the knightly candidates and their dragons should spread word among the ranks that anyone who's ready to go home now will be taken home with our heartfelt thanks in a couple days, but any who want to go back to the Isles to take care of business are welcome once it's cleared with Vere.
L'tarn says "We've been talking about it." Kourin hands you a scrap of parchment with some names on it. All four of the leaders are grinning. The list names all the riders. "Volunteers," says V'laren.
Jovian gets his ass-kickin' smile on. "I'll talk this over with Vere. I don't think he'll object too hard." He angles a brow at Aisling, who knows the Danu a bit better, but there's no doubt in the look.
Aisling politely shrugs.
To M'hall, J'rim explains that he has promised help to the Conclave, but not anything that will make Calusa dependent upon Amber and her other trading partners. Calusa will be able to obtain materials and goods, and send crafters to be trained in new techniques and designs that can be propagated among our own people. The exact nature of the aid provided - and traded for - is something that Hold, Hall and Weyr will have to decide together.
As for time, by local reckoning about five years have passed since we departed for the battle. But time moves at a different rate back home - only two and a half years should have passed there. There may have been a disturbance in the time flow, due to some upheavals in the way the universe is structured that we don't fully understand yet, but it should be close to that.
The king is well aware that dragons are sentients, not mere animals, and has appropriate respect for them. J'rim will personally ensure that there will be no conflict between the needs of our dragons and any obligation to Amber.
They accept the forthcoming honor.
On day +10, a note arrives at the castle. It is written in a smooth, feminine hand.
Prince Jerod,
I must apologize for my recent unavailability. I was involved in some personal research that could not be safely interrupted, even for such a dire need as yours.
If you can call on me tomorrow afternoon, I would be happy to discuss the unfortunate matter of my departure from your home.
Lady Thalia of Gateway
Jerod replies to the message, agreeing to the timing as indicated, not knowing the future.
However, when the Embassy arrives, a message is sent to Thalia, regrettably postponing the meeting until the next day, same time during the day. He also requests that Thalia meet him at a neutral third location...the Diogenes would be suitable he is sure.
Thalia will join Jerod at the Diogenes as your guest at his convenience. If it is close to mealtime, they may dine in the club's parlor.
Jerod arrives some time earlier than their arranged meeting, to ensure a private room for their meeting, as well as to prepare himself (as per private discussion).
[GMs]
Right. One bourbon, one scotch, one beer.
Thalia is prompt, well dressed, and looks chipper. She has on more makeup than Jerod is used to, but perhaps that is the fashion in Gateway. Jerod remembers that Harper had quite a bit as well.
"Your highness. Thank you for your patience."
Jerod rises as she enters the room, a little stiff perhaps but it fades quickly. "Good morning. I trust you are well."
"I am. Amber is certainly a more interesting post than Rebma. So much more needs to be done here."
"Indeed. It would seem everyone is quite busy." Jerod says, motioning her to a comfortable, deep seated chair, the kind that is very comfortable with a high back and arms that you can sink into and relax...totally suitable for conversation...before he takes his own chair.
"I trust your research was completed satisfactorily?"
"Gateway breeds women who value knowledge over all things, your highness. We are a kingdom of scholars." She smiles. "Anything I can do here to push back the darkness one step is valuable both to my Queen and to me."
"And what if pushing back the darkness endangers another, not of your kingdom?" Jerod asks. "What then?"
"I should ask that of the ambassador of a nation of philosophers, Prince Jerod. I am an ethical scholar and would not intentionally endanger another. But I would not abandon knowledge if another had been inadvertently harmed in the acquiring of it.
"I wonder who is asking, Prince Jerod of Amber, Kingdom of the Mercenary Mercantile, or Jerod, Duke of Rebma, Kingdom of incessant intrigue? I am not sure either will like my answer."
"I am both, for I walk Occam's razor." Jerod says. "Both are my homes and I will defend them both, even from each other. It is why I have asked you here. There are matters to clear up before others decide to take action.
"Tell me of your situation in Rebma. I have spoken with Conner and my sister and now I will hear from you."
Thalia smiles. "I tried to help my friend Conner, who was getting into deeper and deeper trouble that he didn't really seem to understand. I got beaten unconscious, grabbed, kidnapped, rescued, assaulted, and escaped to Amber. I am sure that we've been caught in something that none of us understands and fear that it involves infighting inside the Palace. I do not intend to return to Rebma."
"That would be wise." Jerod says. "Tell me of your attackers."
She shrugs. "I was right outside my own embassy when I was hit from behind. I woke up in a dark place, being carried by rough hands. The next thing I know Demond and Conner were cutting me out of a sack. There were two tritons lying dead nearby."
"Did you notice anything unusual about them? Markings or tattoos?" he asks.
"The last one, by the tunnel. He had tattoos on his face. Conner was carrying me, since I was still not able to walk, so I didn't get a good look at him. Conner and Demond did, though. Demond says the tattoos are not really a secret, but nobody knows what they mean. He thinks the tritons cover them for religious purposes.
"The tattoos may be magical or religious protection talismans, or they may indicate rank or status. It was always Officially Frowned Upon to inquire." She smiles. "As much as I loved Rebma, I am by habit an air-breather and am happier where I have breathing room."
"I've noted such from those not born to Rebma." Jerod says. "And to question about the Tritons is always frowned upon. Once does so at the risk of one's life. I will make inquiries concerning your situation when I return to Rebma.
"In the meantime, you can do me a favor. What is Gateway's interest in the purchase of property in the city." Jerod says. "The real reason."
"Because it is metaphysically useful for my magical research, your highness. And if I destroy myself and it by accident, Gateway will still have an embassy and an ambassador." She smiles.
"Explain to me why it is useful." Jerod says. "I have certain concerns about it that were investigated prior to a trip I made recently. Concerns sufficient enough to warrant not allowing this place to become the property of another whose loyalty to the realm is questionnable at present." reminding her of Gateway's support of Bleys against his father.
"Magic, at least Gatwegan magic, works by affinities. If you're gifted in the recondrite arts, I can explain it quite simply. If you are not, I can also explain it quite simply, but with a different explanation. As to our loyalties, they are to Gateway, of course. You may be assured the that the end result of this experimentation is squarely in the realm of commerce. Or, if it goes badly, academia."
"Affinities meaning the natural attraction of energies." Jerod says. "An inherent similarity of some sort, by which the natural energies or relationship of the location or object you are using provide a benefit to the magics being wielded. My father taught me sufficient of the...hidden...arts, to be able to disable them when I encounter them in my travels. He felt to delve too deeply into them at an early age was not beneficial. Also, he didn't trust any of the available tutors.
"Explain to me to how this experimentation fits into the realm of commerce."
"By providing a commercial advantage to goods sold by Gatewegian merchants. There are magical treatments that are applied to goods in Gateway to enhance their value. To date those treatments have failed in Amber. We are investigating a way to extend our abilities to Amber."
Jerod smiles, though he does not say anything. Part of him suspects that their commercial value may be less than anticipated, if what he figures is true.
"Are you interested in learning the hidden arts, Prince Jerod?"
"I am always interested in learning new things. Life gets boring if one hides from the wonders that life deigns to put before you. But like my father, I am cautious. One is careful to ensure that one's pursuit of knowledge does not exert a dangerous hold, or allow another to do so."
"All learning is a two edged sword, Prince Jerod. Will one new fact break the logjam of a close-held prejudice? Will what you learn change you before you can use it to change the world? All Scholars are gamblers. The greater the stakes the greater the risk, and yet we poor souls return to the table again and again, knowing we will lose and convinced that it will be for the good."
"Then I would add one point that the Scholar seems to have overlooked." Jerod says. "If you're coming back to play at the table, don't play by the House rules. Make your own. What does the Scholar think of that?" he asks with a slight smile.
"Perhaps all Scholars are masochistic, your Highness. I am satisfied with the house rules and value both my success and my losses. Is it not the same in politics? One can often discern more about a situation by what is not said as by what is said."
"Of course. But there is a difference between learning from one's mistakes and mitigating your shortcomings." Jerod says. "Defining your limitations means you accept them wholeheartedly, even if we do not mean to or claim we do not. If I choose the House rules, I choose my limitations, perhaps even ones defined by another. If I make the rules, then my boundaries know no limits. Should I stumble while making the rules, I can learn from that."
"Introspection is so seldom a trait associated with Princes of Amber. I find it refreshing."
"Consider it a survival trait." and Jerod chuckles.
"May it serve you well, then."
"Let us hope." Jerod says, as the club staff begin to enter with their lunch. "Perhaps at a later date we will discuss your offer of training. But for now, let us enjoy our meal."
After her meeting with her father, Robin finds herself once more adrift in the pile of stone, cacaphony and smell! that is Amber Castle. A sigh ripples through the girl and her face twists once as though she was tasting something terrible. Ah well, no use putting it off any longer.
With her usual pleasant aplomb, Robin picks on another young page at random and asks if Lady Brita is in residence.
The page doesn't know, but runs to find out. When he returns some time later, he says that Lady Brita is still in Arden the last the Steward has heard, but she is expected in the Castle tomorrow for the funeral. He [the page] will be happy to take a note to her room for her to receive when she arrives.
"Uh, no. That's okay. Thanks." The Ranger looks around the halls. "Which way is Lord Vere's office?" A self-amused chuckle ripples through her at her own inability to track in this place.
The page will lead her there, or guide her if she wishes.
Vere, Robin is advised, was meeting with his father, and afterwards had business in the city.
There's a minute flash of angry green in the Ranger's eyes, that gives way rapidly to an ironic snort.
She looks over at the page with a wry grin. "And I suppose if I ask for Lord Reid, I'm guaranteeing that he's out of the castle as well?" Her voice is teasing, she's a working girl too.
Assuming that the page either responds that Reid is in the castle or scampers away to return momentarily with the same news, Robin gestures to the young man to lead her Reid-wards. As she follows through the twisting corridors of Amber, she rubs her forehead briefly once. Then returns her normal pleasant expression to its place in time to meet the oldest of her... peers(?)
Reid answers the knock on his chamber door and ushers Robin in. The place is cluttered with art and musical instruments. To some extent, they are segregated -- art obviously favors one side of the room, while music is dominant in the other, but towards the middle, the items she sees are not immediately identifiable as either.
The girl cocks her head one way and the other as she takes in the clutter, her bright eyes favor the musical ^V seeming almost to shy away from the art side.
Reid offers Robin the only padded chair in the room... an overstuffed reading chair with a convenient side table. If Robin sits, she'll find that the chair is rather engulfing, but cozy once she gets over its softness. Reid then offers a drink, fixing one for himself in the process.
The Ranger perches as usual, then shifts as the chair seems to move under her, shift, shift, shift. Eventually an annoyed chirp emerges from Robin and she jumps to her feet rather than be engulfed. She tries to make it look natural, but... it's obvious that Robin doesn't want anything to do with the chair and is wondering what the heck Reid is up to with the guest-eating furniture.
Consequently, when Reid offers a drink, there's a moment of hesitation as the girl wonders what exactly is going to be in the glass, but eventually she settles for "Something hard. Thank you."
It's clear that when she arrived he was in the process of doing maintenance on some of his equipment, both artistic and musical. Turpentine rags are out where he's been cleaning his brushes, and a lute sits not far off half-strung.
For himself, Reid takes a chair that seems to be nothing more than two slabs of wood intersecting at an angle. It's a low chair, but places him in a reclining position that makes it easy enough to maintain eye contact with her.
"What can I do for you?" he inquires.
"Uh. I won't take up much of your time, Reid." Robin twitches a little, drops her eyes and unconsciously starts fiddling with something near herself. "I was just wondering... when Random made his first surprise visit," it's obvious that Robin has other words for that event, but that she's not going to share them at this time, "you were consulting a... paper. Was that a chart of the royals? Do you still have it? Annnnd could I get a peep?"
Green eyes startle as she realizes that she's messing with Reid's stuff and she puts down the pic with an embarrassed blush. And turns her green eyes to Reid. Drink time, oh yes.
Reid's eyes scan over the stacks of paper sticking out from odd angles in his display cases, then reaches for one, seemingly at random. He hands it to her, a large parchment folded a few times to make it more convenient for transportation. Upon unfolding it, she'll see that there are portions of the family tree written in an even hand with a strong ink. Elsewhere on the sheet there are additions hastily made in pencil, as well as a few annotations, lines criss-crossing, etc. It is the family tree, as it was known upon Random's return. Should cover all the current and deceased parties, though the lineage of a few is still in question.
"You can borrow that, if you need to. Or I might be able to answer a few questions. I'm not as up to speed on some of the younger generation though... particularly those who just came back." Reid's offer is such that it is clear it would not be an inconvenience.
Robin looks at him with large eyes as though trying to figure out what he's up to. Eventually, she shakes her head, a quick toss of blonde. "Th-thank you. No, I don't need to borrow this. And it probably shouldn't go wandering around in a pocket like mine." She finishes with a quick flat smile.
((Oh, great GMs and very sweet Chuck :) Does Reid's chart have on it - Reid's mother? Cambina's mother? Eric as Solace's father? Marius' father? The entire Jerod/Rebma/Martin mess? Conner's father? Paige's mother? Lucas' father? I'm assuming that info is sketch on the Chaos-siders, but what about the Corwin-Dara-Merlin thing?))
Reid would have been able to find out the following items
- his mother (obviously)
- Cambina's mother
- Jerod and Martin's mothers
- Merlin's mother
- Amberite descent of Chaossiders in general (Brennan is Brand's kid,
Aisling is descended from Benedict, etc.) but not their non-Amberite
parents. Exception: Reid may have been able to ask anyone he sketched about
their non-Amberite heritage, e.g., again, Brennan.
Reid would not know about
- Solace's reputed paternity
- Marius' father
- Lucas' father
- Paige's mother
- Conner's father
A few more moments are spent studying the parchment, then Robin nods and carefully refolds it. She holds the paper out to Reid. "Thank you."
"You are most welcome, any time." Reid replies.
"That's very... kind of you." Robin smiles, a little lost smile as though she doesn't quite know what to do with herself. "I should be going." The Ranger eases her way toward the door.
Reid allows her to handle the door herself. He senses she would be uncomfortable if he took the gentlemanly approach.
"Thank you again, Reid. Good day." The Ranger smiles pleasantly, but lets herself out of the door quickly enough. She doesn't let it bang shut, she does have some manners.
Once outside in the hallway, Robin takes off in a random direction fairly quickly.
The day after the Rebman arrival, late in the afternoon, Jerod finds Corwin to be in his quarters and makes his way there, knocking when he arrives.
Corwin opens the door himself, looking vaguely surprised when he sees Jerod rather whomever else he might be expecting. "Jerod. Come in," Corwin says.
"Uncle..." Jerod says, entering slowly and looking about the room as Corwin bids him entry.
Corwin is the possessor of a suite with a fireplace, but it's still somewhat spartan in its furnishings. He offers Jerod a seat and sits down himself. "What can I do for you?"
Jerod notes the level of furnishing, muttering mostly to himself. "I knew we should've brought back more stuff for the apartments." he says before turning his attention to Corwin.
"I have some questions uncle. I would have figured you'd be expecting me, now that my sister is here." Jerod says. "I'm curious about Rebma, and their link to Paris."
"I'd've thought you'd've had your fill of Rebma. You're welcome to come visit Paris, if you'd like. Your sister can show you how to get to Rebma from Paris. We could only stay for a few hours after she arrived, since we were already late coming here, but I think she wants to see more of it." Corwin smiles.
"Rebma is home Uncle, just as Amber is." Jerod says. "I suspect I will never get enough of either one.
"I'm curious as to how Rebma managed to acquire an attachment to Paris. My sister indicates that a disturbance was noticed similar to the effect the stairway generated prior to the Sundering. That's how they found the passage through to Paris. She was quite deliberate in her comments about it, especially how vibrant and real it seemed. A curious comparison, given the current state of Amber.
"You wouldn't happen to know how this attachment came about, would you Uncle?"
"Considering that I hardly know how Rebma's 'attachment' to Amber came about in the first place, I could hardly speculate how the stair came to be where it is. As for the other, I suggest you visit Paris. It will be much easier to explain things there." Corwin seems very firm about that last.
"I'm wondering when that would be possible." Jerod says. "It would seem that the King is intent on keeping everyone busy for the next little while. Shuffling the deck to keep everyone's attention elsewhere while he prepares his magic trick. And since I have never been there, I would need a guide. Unless you can point me to someone who has been there?"
"There will be a party returning with me after the coronation. You're welcome to join it, Jerod," Corwin replies. "You can consider me part of the distraction, or part of the card trick."
Well, at least he's got the "I'm not telling you anything" part down pat...
"It will depend on whether the King decides to keep us busy. I suspect travel will be a luxury for those not delegated as being useful." Jerod says. "Who will be accompanying you?"
"Fiona, for certain, and perhaps one or two others. It's not clear yet how Random plans to allot duties. I believe your sister and her entourage will also be accompanying us," says Corwin.
Once Jerod hears the reply, he will nod and thank Corwin for his time, and then he will depart. He's convinced he's not going to get anything here so he won't bother wasting his (or Corwin's time).
When Jerod makes his farewells, Corwin accompanies him to the door and says, "Jerod. There are times coming that will call for all of us to make hard choices. Because of who your father was, who your mother is, you'll have to make some of the hardest."
He continues: "I know you probably hate me for things I've done, and I can't blame you for that. If I'd known then what I know now, I'd have done a lot of things differently, and your father might still be alive. I can't fix my old mistakes, but I mean to avoid as many new ones as I can. I want to do what I can for you, but my options are limited right now. After the coronation, things will become a lot clearer. Come back to me then, and we'll talk."
Jerod stops at Corwin's second set of comments, looking at him for a moment. His expression is unreadable as his thoughts flicker in the background. "Actually uncle, and don't take this the wrong way, but I'm afraid you're not worth hating." he says, pausing for a moment before explaining.
"I originally did hate you. And then I hated my father. And then Oberon, and our little redhead triad, and then Chaos. And after five years I came to a realization that I didn't have time to waste an eighth of my current life on a grudge. If I had, you'd be dead already Uncle. The guns still work." he reminds him.
"I think rather that I pity everyone. It took how many people to die for something as stupid as a chair in a castle on a hill over a bunch of self-absorbed people who couldn't give a rat's ass who was in charge so long as things went okay. With you and my father fighting for what seems to have been recognition from your siblings and Oberon that one of you two was somehow better. It was dumb and stupid and childish. And if I kept on hating people, I'd be just as dumb and stupid and childish. Dad taught me a lot of things, but never to be any of those things."
Jerod turns slightly, facing straight at Corwin and looking him square in the eyes. "My father taught me to protect myself, to watch out for everyone around me because I had to be careful. That's served me well up to now. He also taught me to keep my options open, and to never blind myself to possibilities. That things can change, and they change because we make them change. He also said, that I don't have to like someone to be able to work with them, but you have to respect them. Liking them can come later and with time it usually does. For what it's worth, my father respected you."
Then Jerod turns to depart. "Maybe we'll talk later uncle."
Corwin, who has listened attentively and without significant change in his expression to Jerod's words, says only as he goes, "I believe we will, Jerod."
Last modified: 3 April 2003