Library Fun, Part Seven


[Random enters -- Brennan, Reid, Aisling, Lucas]

When Random and Vialle enter, Brennan pauses in his conversation with Bleys to look them over. It's a sharper look than he's been wearing for most of the evening, except when he was sizing up this Ossian character. The first glance takes in Random, the second takes in Vialle and the make-up, the third takes in the reactions, as much as possible, of everyone else in the room.

Most of the elders seem to be continuing their activities, with an eye towards Random in case he calls for them.

Brennan turns back to the conversation, his eyes still somewhat in the sharp mode. If and only if neither Bleys nor Lucas leaves immediately to charge Random, Brennan looks at Lucas and says, "I don't believe we've met. I'm Brennan."

Lucas, a slender and slightly androgynous man with dark hair, responds with an air of mild boredom, "We haven't. Lucas. I'm certain I have some title. Somewhere."

"'Rake of Amber' doesn't suit anymore?" Aisling asks with a sly grin. "I'm Aisling. I'm surprised to find you here-- and pleased, for now how can family dinners ever possibly be dull?" She bows, meaning both the compliment and the irony.

"I've become more a shovel of late, than a rake. And with this family, there's only so much inspiration one can infuse into a situation. Unless you enjoy cloyingly cheerful 'jam sessions'."

Aisling smiles and shrugs ambiguously, letting the conversation turn back to Bleys's reply to the Pattern question.

When introductions are over, Bleys continues. "There is such a place, as more people know today than did three weeks ago. You recall how the Pattern was a state secret, not to be divulged to passing strangers, close allies, or subjects of Oberon? The Primal Pattern was the secret behind that. It is, however, implicit in the equations. Are any of you mathematicians?"

Lucas was interested, then you had to bring up math.

Brennan gently waves his coffee mug. There's a smirk trapped somewhere behind that stoic expression, though, at Bleys' phrasing about state secrets.

Reid raises his hand as well. "Musician... same thing at times..."

Bleys looks at Reid and says "there is a reason other than centuries of boredom that so many in our family are musically inclined." He turns to Brennan and says "We can delve into the details in a less social setting, if you wish to."

Dissed! Aisling notes Bleys's answer to what was originally her line of inquiry, and smirks, aptly concealing a touch of unhappiness.

"Now Reid, tell us more about these steps and what was above them. As far as I've heard that normally only happens a bit further up this mountain."

Reid shrugs. "Nice place. Somewhat incomplete. Afraid my cousin Paige may turn it into a day spa if I don't get back and check on it soon. Peaceful. Dreadfully silent in a "devoid of all life as we know it" sort of way. And on two separate occasions, Tir was spotted without the connecting stairway. Not that it would have been wise to visit Tir without working trumps if we had been able to find a way up. Like I said, a return visit may be in order. I think the King may take an interest once we get into the minutia of why we don't seem to have a pattern any more. It will probably become a state secret or something, and I'm guessing "finders keepers, losers weepers" isn't going to be a strong argument on my part, so I'll have to continue to share it with family who's interested..."


Brita gives a slight bow at the waist to her cousins and uncle and turns to move off with Fiona.

As the two of them move away from the large group towards one of the more private niches, Random and Vialle enter the library.

Brennan politely nods a farewell to them both.

Fiona might think she hears a soft "finally!" out of Brita. If she turns to Brita at this point, Brita will smile and ask "Would you like to begin this conversation after dinner, Mother?"

Fiona watches Random assist Vialle towards the bar. "If I know my little brother," she says, "he'll want to have a quick visit with everyone before dinner. We should have a moment."

She leads Brita into one of the book nooks and says, "But enough about Random. Tell me how you've been."

Brita seems to tense up a little. "I have been fine. Master Reid has taught me much and got us safely through the black rain to here. I have been helping out in Arden, mainly, at the wishes of Uncle Gerard and the Council - my cousins. Although the trumps finally started working again, I was very busy and have not had time..." she pauses and frowns down at the ground " ...I have been... afraid... to contact you... or Father."

"Where I was, you could not have reached me. Your father," and at this, Fiona pauses, and her face clouds. "I don't know, Brita. We need to go back to Asgard and find out."

Brita stares at Fiona as if she had never thought she would be able to go back. The stare continues and Fiona can see the thoughts churning behind Brita's now somewhat unfocused eyes. Finally, Brita shakes back into the present, straightens and says,"When can we leave?"

"Not immediately," Fiona says, and Brita can hear the unspoken _unfortunately_. "Because of ... some thing Bleys and I did during the war, we must prove our loyalty to Random now. He will need our help and advice for a time. And with things in Amber being so changed--the Pattern, the stairways--I can't say how long it will be, or what he will demand of us."

She shakes her head. "And it will be difficult to find Asgard again."

"Both Master Reid and I have Trumps of Asgard and its environs. Perhaps they will help now that they are working again." Brita notes. She completely ignores the loyalty issue.

"I'm not sure that's entirely safe even now," Fiona says, pensively.

Brita raises an eyebrow at that. "They seemed to work well enough during the troop transport, Mother."

"Those were Trumps of people, not of a place in an unknown condition. And in any case, it's not the Trump out alone that concerns me, Brita. It might be difficult to get back to Amber, especially now."

"I have Trumps of people in Asgard," Brita notes. "Now that I've found Amber, though, I would not want to get lost away from it like Master Reid did...."

"It's getting back to Amber that I'm concerned about," says Fiona. "I should speak to Reid about this before we make any attempt. And until we know what happened there during the war ..." She shakes her head.


For the past couple of fifteen minutes of conversation, Brennan has been... not so much *lost* in thought, as heavily engaged in it. He's still been paying attention to the conversation, but some of Bleys' and Reid's comments on the current metaphysical situation have obviously sparked a few thoughts, and it's likely that Brennan has a reasonably sophisticated mental model of what's going on. Whether it is reasonably accurate, though, remains to be seen.

After a spell, though, he reaches the logical end of the path of his thoughts, and comes back up for air, so to speak. It doesn't look like he wants to get elbow deep in the technicalities of the situation just now, though.

Instead, addressing both Bleys and Reid, he says, "There are two things I should very much like to see-- the Pattern as it is now, and this primal place of Reid's. If investigations are mounted, please don't leave me out."

With that, he notices that his coffee mug has drained itself again, and makes as though to leave the group and head to the coffee maker. Evidently, he doesn't want to conjure it full again. And it's certainly a good thing that caffeine doesn't have that much of an effect on Brennan. (Either that, or he exists in a natural state of caffeination anyway.)

"If you'll excuse me, I'm going to top this off and then mingle a bit. Bleys, I'm sure we'll speak again." Somehow 'we' projects an envelope that manages to include Fiona even though she's out of easy earshot.

With that, and whatever smalltalk might be necessary, he ambles over to the coffee machine and proceeds to doctor up a mug of what he hopes is Amber's Finest. He then proceeds to survey the room, looking for a likely group to inflict himself on. Mingling is pretty obviously an effort for him. He hears Cambina raise her voice, slightly, and a look of interest as to the finer points of *that* conversation passes across his face. But it looks like a private conversation, so he holds back.

Then he sees Merlin, who has looked a bit overwhelmed for the whole evening and heads over. When he reaches Merlin, he positions himself such that they'll be having their own conversation, rather than be part of a larger group. Or at least, that's the goal.

"Merlin," he introduces himself. "I'm Brennan. I saw you after the battle-- several times, even-- but in all that time, I don't think we've had a chance to talk." He offers a hand for a handshake.

Merlin accepts. His handshake is firm, but the motion is clearly somewhat new to him. It's as if he knows what to do but hasn't done it so much as practiced it. "I am pleased to meet you more formally, cousin." He casts about for a suitable topic and decides on, "Do you find the castle much changed?"

Brennan is going to stick to a slightly less formal tone and posture, and give Merlin some time to adjust to that, without being pushy about it.

"Good to meet you, too, Merlin. As for the castle," he gives as wry a grin as he's accustomed to giving-- which is to say, not much of a grin at all, "I really couldn't say. This is the first time I've been here. Why, has it changed?"

"I am told that it has," says Merlin. "It is my first visit to the Castle also, although I have been told of it by some of my other relatives." He pauses, as if considering his next comment. "It is very different from the home of my mother's family. Do you find it different from where you were raised?"

"In some ways, yes. It'll take me a little while, I'm sure, to find out all the little differences, though." Brennan muses for a moment, working out some of the logical inferences of Merlin's question, given his experiences over the past week or so, then adds, "Physically, though, it's very similar. It has been quite the week of travel for us both, though, hasn't it? From one end right to the other in just a few days. Were you raised in the Courts, then?"

Merlin frowns, but it's a thinking-frown, not an unhappy-frown. "I was raised in the Court of my grandfather. I have visited this side of Ygg with Martin, but I have never spent time in any of the other Courts."

"Sounds like a variation on a theme, then. I was raised in my father's Shadow, originally, but I've spent a lot of time on the far side-- your side-- of Ygg. Characteristic wanderlust of Oberon's seed, perhaps." He shrugs. "I went as far as it was possible to go."

He thinks for a moment, then rattles off some names of places at the farther end that he's been, looking for recognition and common ground. "Eskhozia? Xan'zubiri? Summerless?" At any rate, he is interested in Merlin's background as well, and so far as he is able to do so politely, tries to draw him out a little.

Rarely, it seems likely that Brennan would be willing to trade a story or two of his own, in return. Maybe.

What Merlin finally says is, "I have not come into the full mastery of the gifts of my father's blood. I have travelled with Martin and Paige, but not alone on this side of Ygg." He looks at his boots for a moment, then back up at Brennan. "But I will, in due time."

Well, I guess [Brennan] won't mention the Ghost Fleets of Misner, or the Brotherhood of the Starlit Cowls, either. What he says is, "I'm sure you will-- our blood carries with it the gift of time as well as space.

"What was your grandfather's Court like, if you don't mind my asking?"

"I suspect every court is unique. My grandfather was a warrior, my mother gifted in sorcery. But they had the taint, so they had some difficulty in attracting certain sorts of affines." He gives the I'm-thinking frown again. "To you one of the biggest differences would be the instability of symmetries."

Brennan gives a blink or two at that, obviously trying to parse through a phrase he's never heard before. Then, "I'm not sure if I know what you mean, there."

The taint appears to be a topic he'll let pass, for the moment.

Merlin's eyes flick over to one side momentarily, as if he is paying attention to both Brennan and something else in the room. He seems the sort who would be aware of too much attention being paid to him.

This, Brennan lets pass without comment. If Merlin is uncomfortable, he'll say something. At least, that's the theory.

Merlin looks like this entire business is a little uncomfortable, if not as excruciating as Random promised.

"If we were to walk out of this library and down to the family quarters, we could retrace our steps and find ourselves here again, yes? In Castle Borel, that was not so, even assuming that my grandfather did not decide to rearrange the castle as you walked it."

This, on the other hand, is an odd question, but not one so odd that Brennan is left blinking trying to figure it out, even before his clarification.

"Yes. I'd be extraordinarily surprised if Castle Amber took to rearranging itself in that fashion. Don't let me pry too much, though, if I'm making you uncomfortable."

Merlin pauses. "My mother was given to changing her own suite regularly. It was never clear to me whether she did it to amuse herself, or as she once said, because she was concerned about assassins."

Brennan stifles the urge to make a comment on Dara's charming personality. Stifles it with a baseball bat in one metaphorical hand, and a hockey stick in the other.

He does raise an eyebrow, and the player must take this opportunity to point out that when he does that, he bears no resemblance to Julian at all.

By body language, he's ready to walk out into the hall if Merlin will be more comfortable there.

Merlin, Brennan suspects, had some hard teaching in diplomatic discomfort; he shows no sign of fleeing even when offered the graceful exit. On the other hand, Brennan can probably guess what the price of disappointing Dara might have been.

"My mother," says Merlin in response to the non-Julianic eyebrow, "has enemies."

"I can't imagine why," he says blandly. "She seemed so charming when last I saw her." Then he drops his voice a bit and says matter-of-factly, "But I think there may rapidly come a time when we need to have a talk about her. As someone who laid hands on your mother trying to buy time for you and Aisling, I'd like to know what kind of threat, if any, she poses."

"But that time need not be now, and perhaps there are more pleasant topics of conversation."

Vere, listening to his father and Caine, happens, quite coincidentally, to choose this moment to stretch slightly, allowing his gaze to travel around the room, and as it passes Brennan and Merlin one eyebrow lifts fractionally and he gives a slight nod in their direction.

Brennan flicks another non-Julianic eyebrow at Merlin.

Merlin shakes his head slightly at Brennan, watching as Conner approaches Gerard, Caine, and Vere.

Brennan gives a small shrug.

"You and I must indeed discuss my mother, Brennan. She will be engaged for the time being with securing Castle Borel and my grandfather's affines. And even after she has completed that business, I doubt you will be the first matter of interest to her. But, still, I commend you for your wariness about my mother."

"Oh, I'm sure I won't be her very first thought; to be honest, she's not mine, either. But it was a convenient enough segue into the topic. And in the name of honesty," Brennan says, "as I'm sure you suspect, I've been asked to help rough out the list of up and coming problems. Asking you seemed more polite than standing outside your apartments, pressing my ear to the door. At your convenience, then."

Brennan takes a moment, casting about for small talk topics. "I understand that Dame Aisling is your kin through the Courts, as well; is she close enough to be considered family? Had you known her prior?"

"The term 'family' does not properly apply among Chaosi, except among those of Benedict's heritage," says Merlin. "I have met Aisling's father, Count Madoc. He was one of my mother's teachers of sorcery, I believe; a brilliant man. I did not know that he had a daughter until now. Under the circumstances, I am not surprised."

"Ah, Count Madoc. Yes, I met him at Oberon's funeral. Definitely an interesting man."


[Assuming that Solange takes Martin's arm.]

She does.

Martin leads Solange off to a more private nook elsewhere in the library.

Once they're far away enough from Random and Vialle to not be overheard, Martin says, "Thanks."

"Any time," Solange says.

He relinquishes Solange's arm and takes a sip of his coffee, nodding approvingly at the alcohol level. "You got my message?" he asks quietly.

"Yes, and burned it, too," Solange assures him. "Which leaves me with one question. Who?"

"Who else?" says Martin, very quiet now. "Who was out there in Garnath to see? Lucas, of course."

"Do you think he intends to cause trouble with it?" Solange asks.

"No. Lucas and I have an understanding," says Martin. "But once a secret is let out, you can't control where it goes." His eyes flick to where Gerard and Caine are talking, with Vere standing beside them.

Solange takes in the direction of his glance, and nods. "And the situation hasn't been improved any by the recent changes, I know. Welcome to the hot seat, now it's your turn... do you think it calls for any changes, though?"

Martin looks back at Solange. "I would think that's up to you. If anything, under the circumstances, your risks are greater and mine are probably less."

"How do you figure?" Solange says. "What I'm risking falls under sticks and stones. You, on the other hand, might be risking grievous bodily harm if somebody decided to be both old-fashioned and upset. Or am I reading it wrong?"

Martin grins, all confidence. "I doubt it will come to that, and in any case I'll survive anything that doesn't kill me. But I'm in a position now where there are limits to the consequences I can be forced to face." He frowns. "There are things Dad's likely to care about, and things he's not. I suspect this is one of the latter. Not that I mean to take advantage of him, but ..." Martin trails off and shrugs. "Neither one of us wants to push it, you know?"

"You use what advantages you've got," Solange counters. "But, anyway, if you think it's not likely to upset His Majesty, then as far as anyone else goes, I think it'll be fine as long as it doesn't hit the broadsheets -- don't you?"

"I do. Fortunately, I am the soul of discretion, dear cousin," says Martin. "If we stand here chatting much longer, though, everyone will wonder what we're up to. Shall I walk you back to your father?"

Solange rises, but looks doubtful. "So I can hang around playing The Dutiful Daughter some more?" she asks. "Aren't we supposed to be mingling, here?"

"I guess we are," says Martin, "although I'd rather spend time with your father than play Prince on Parade any day. "Is there anyone else you'd like to talk to? I've met most of the newcomers, at least the ones who made it down, so I can offer introductions."


[Bleys] "That Dworkin is alive is a clear indicator that there is a Pattern. What it means to Amber that there is no Pattern here is a question that I will have to consider. How has that affected Amber? Other than annoying the Merchants and Ambassadors?"

"Oh, the usual. The population is shrinking for possibly metaphysical reasons that seem beyond our considerable combined investigative skills. I believe there's a prophecy predicting the end of the world fairly soon. Women are publishing books. It's all bad." Reid smiles knowing that any one of his statements could be challenged, but such attention would be fruitless.

[Benedict's] motion catches Reid's attention, so [Reid] attempts to make eye contact.

Reid catches Benedict's eye and Benedict smiles, changing direction towards Reid and Bleys and Lucas.

Aisling for some reason warms a bit to Reid at his "popsicle stand at the Primal Pattern" speech, but goes neutral again at his next bit on the three sorrows of Amber. She'd be doing a good job of utterly fading into the background if she weren't glancing towards where Folly plays the immigrant song with the melancholy undernote with a frown and a longing to go over there. But with Benedict coming over here... Oh, hang Benedict! But no. To move would be to break cover, and she's seen the good that comes from that, her mental lips curling.

"We shall see if my brother can end our assorted national ordeals. I suspect we shall all be very busy arranging things the way he wants them." Bleys pulls out a silver cigarette case and offers it around. "Do they still smoke in Amber, at least?"

Aisling drops Reid, and Benedict, from her consideration. She passes on the cigarettes with a little shrug, "Not on virgin lungs, in this case." Before either can follow up on that, she says, "I would like to take the first opportunity to thank you, Prince Bleys, for your aiding energy with the moving of the valley. Without your gift, I would have surely failed or died or both."

Bleys lights his cigarette and that of anyone who took one from him.

[Jeremy: Does Lucas take a smoke?]

[Do you need to ask? That's like asking if Corwin gets laid. Or Julian uses lame pick-up lines. "Amusing witticism" indeed.]

Bleys bows to Aisling. "On the contrary, we all owe you a debt, Aisling. That was a more painless extraction than I expected. The army returned, mostly intact, to Amber. If I were the King and I had wanted my army returned, then I should have been quite pleased with you, Lady Knight."

"Was the extratraction, then, painless for the army? I was rather less conscious during the move than I expected, and have not had a chance to hear what transpired," Aisling asks, serious.

"Some of the seriously wounded were flown on Julian's dragons to Ygg, and our outriders were harrassed, but we seem to have been let to go. Did you hear the laughter as we departed?"

"I believe the dragons were Jovian's," Aisling corrects lightly en route to the object of interest, which is, "But no, what was this laughter?"

"As we were detaching, we heard a woman's laughter, as if our little trick was vastly amusing to someone. I'd suspect a relative, as they are so frequently our only suspects, but..." Bleys turns slightly as Random walks up and hands over the cigarette he's been holding. It lights itself as Random brings it up to his lips.

[Aisling]
Aw, now that was almost home-like.

Random accepts the cigarette with casual aplomb. He greets Lucas and bows more formally to Aisling. As he rises, he addresses her. "What's cooking, good looking?" He is grinning.

Lucas does a minimalist return greeting, sort of a non-verbal, "Oh, look. The king."

Aisling is, for a moment, daunted by the unknown phrase. Or so she suspects it to be... Unless, does he expect her to have checked out the kitchens before arriving? (She would have liked to, of course, but her affine took precedence...) And not to mention the second half of the sentence!

This is, as mentioned, only a moment's hesitation, and then she spots an answer, and says with a slight grin and a half-bow in return, "I believe that one of the perks of being King is getting to dictate the menu."

"My powers are many and various," he says, wriggling his eyebrows, "but I can't conjure dinner for 30 to suit my tastes without some effort. They did extend to keeping dinner from being a formal 5-fork affair, which is something."

Bleys snorts at this, amused.

Lucas appears genuinely amused by Aisling's confusion, but only gives a polite bit of amusement for Random's "I never figured out how to deal with Society after living in Amber for hundreds of years." humor.

Aisling grins. She's taken by the eyebrow wiggle. "I do hope they extend to making dinner a sensible briefing, instead of home to more excruciating fun?" she teases gently, with a wee bit of an edge, a "Random, this is hellish" edge hidden so deep it's unconscious.

"This, darlin;, may be as good as it gets. Why do you think so many of us stayed away from this place as much as we did? Right, Dinners. This is nothing compared to a state dinner, or worse, a formal banquet. And I have to warn you that I was forced to compromise on my original artistic vision of dinner...

Aisling hides a nonplussed look behind a properly-appreciative (and also felt) apprehensive look at Random's last comment.


Paige bows and crosses to where Folly just left with a smile for Conner and a _Certainly getting your workout..._ smile for him as she approaches the older man in black.

"Uncle, I've longed to thank you for years, but never had the chance." She kisses Corwin softly on the cheek, and introduces herself. "I'm Paige."

Corwin accepts the kiss. He doesn't appear to recognize the name, however.

Leaning in to share a confidence, "I'm the reason Father never had a chance to use your Trumps, but I like to think that if I hadn't been ready... well, that your sacrifice wouldn't have been in vain."

"I was, of course, absolutely convinced that Bleys had survived. He was too much a Prince of Amber not to have a hole card ready for just such a circumstance. And I am in no wise surprised that his ace is a beautiful woman. Were you in the city, that day?"

"Yes, Rein and I were in residence at the Grouse during the 'Siege'," she says the last bit as it's a title of a composition. "I was a good bit up the mountain by the time Father fell, and fortunately had his Trump in hand already," Paige says in passing.

Corwin nods at this.

"In fact, listening your rendition of the 'Water-Crossers', I'd love to hear you do the 'Siege' some time, of course, it is a tune that has limited appeal."

Corwin looks at Paige for a moment, considering. "I've heard of the song, of course, but I haven't had a chance to learn it yet. I wonder if it will be popular in the new Amber or if it will remain an underground hit."

Paige looks thoughtful a moment. "It's been little more than a decade for the City and Garnath, Uncle. The wounds might not be as fresh as the war you just returned from, but the topic will still start fights in the pubs and some nights lead to blood.

"Solange lost a foster-brother to Father's troops and a foster-mother to grief," Paige adds softly. "I'm sure you're enough a tactician to avoid those minefields, as long as you know where they lay."

Corwin smiles, acknowledging the complement or perhaps the situation, but does not answer.

"As to the 'Siege', Folly's probably your best bet for learning it. She's a sponge when it comes to anything musical and had it from me within the first year after the Sundering," Paige explains as a devilish glint takes her eye. "Of course, she can't claim to have helped polish some of the stanzas while you were smoking my cigarettes in the dungeons."

"I was assuming Rein would be available to teach it. I think he wants to do more singing and less going to war. I hope it's a widespread intent..."

Paige offers in a off-handed manner, "Well, I suppose he knows it rather well." A smile steals over her face, reaching her eyes, "I'm glad to know he's well.

"You wouldn't happen to have one on you, would you?" Paige asks.

"For my benefactress? Of course."

Corwin pulls out a package of thin, black, sharp-smelling smokes and offers one to Paige.

Paige accepts and after he lights, continues after a long drag. "I'm surprised Merlin hadn't mentioned me, but then you two have only really just met, haven't you?"

"You've known him for some time, I hear. He was raised on timelines much different from my own. Have you spoken to him since he returned?" Corwin seems somewhat apprehensive, but you can't tell about what.

"Unfortunately not as much as either of us would've liked I fear. When I did get a moment this evening, I was taken by a mood and well... Merle's sweet, but whatever he was prepared for this evening it wasn't me burning my bra," she says metaphorically.

"I'd hoped to have the opportunity to take Merlin away for some getting-to-know-each-other time, but I don't know if I can explain bra-burning to him. I may be too old to do so." Corwin smiles, charmingly. Paige can tell he will never believe he can age at all.

"The stories of Prince Corwin of old speak of a man who knew much about the ladies," Paige puffs prettily on the cigarette and smiles, "So, anything you offer Merlin should be an improvement."

Corwin smiles, and Paige senses a successful appeal to his vanity.

"Of course, I wish you better luck than Martin or I ever had. Sometimes lacking a common frame of reference makes discussions difficult," Paige chuckles.

The slight glow of pleasure at her flattery dims at that comment.

"Might I impose on you again, Uncle?" Paige asks. "I've never had the chance to meet Aunt Llewella. Would you be so kind as to introduce me?"

"Of course," says Corwin, and offers Paige his arm to take her over to where Llewella is sitting. As the two of them approach, she puts her book down and rises to give Corwin a fraternal embrace.

"Llewella," says Corwin, "this is our niece Paige, Bleys' daughter."

Paige nods in greeting, a sort of abbreviated bow. "It's wonderful to meet you, Aunt Llewella. Even with the years I spent in Amber before being recognized as family, it was a rare occasion to catch a glimpse of you."

"I'm pleased to meet you as well, Paige," Llewella says, but doesn't repeat the embrace she gave Corwin.

"I hope you're planning on spending some more time here for the time being. I've some questions I'd love to deluge you with, but these affairs can be tedious enough, no?" Paige smiles.

"Perhaps, even with the busy schedule I'm sure Random will have for us we could work out lunch one day?" she asks.

"That will depend on whether I can get back to Rebma quickly," says Llewella. "I have some business to attend to there. But I would be happy to spend some time with you if I stay in Amber."

Corwin looks vaguely inquisitively at Llewella, but she does not elaborate.

"Has Jerod heard if Kaia's expedition met with success?" Paige asks. "That would be the answer, one supposes."

"I'll have to ask him," says Llewella.

"If things are like I believe them to be, it shouldn't be any harder to find Rebma than it was to travel there from anyplace else in Shadow. We just have to get over our expectations that it's at the bottom of the stairs we expect to find a few miles down the beach." Paige sets her now empty glass on a convenient table and continues, "I'd love to see your sister's city, but I fear my father won't let me that far out of his sight, and even if he does Random will have me too busy seeing Ambassadors home or jumping through the Court's hoops.

"Speaking of that, I do wish to speak with the Regent," she shakes her head, red locks spilling over a shoulder, "I mean Gerard... I suppose even five years can make a habit for us youngsters, eh?

"It was wonderful speaking with you Aunt Llewella," Paige extends a hand and then turns and bows to her uncle, "and you too Uncle. I'm looking forward to getting to know the family a bit better, now that I'm part of it."

Llewella accepts the clasp and says, "Good evening, Paige."

"Until we meet again." Corwin takes Paige's hand and bows over it.


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