The Ballad of Naked Spazz Boy


Folly makes a mock-nasty face in response to the Mandatory Fun announcement. "Is it too late to kidnap close shadows of ourselves and make them go instead?" she asks Solange. "'Cos, y'know, with this big campsite all set up, I was really hoping for folk songs and s'mores tonight."

Solange grins ruefully at her. "As long as you promise not to sing 'Kumbayah,' I'll sneak out of the dinner with you for that. I'll even bring the marshmallows and Hershey bars. But I think we'd better at least put in an appearance. After all, His Majestic Dudeliness is going to be stuck there even longer."

"Excellent point," Folly says. "Maybe I should bring a guitar to the cocktail hour instead. That way, no matter how excruciating it is, at least there'll be music that doesn't suck." (Implicit in that statement, of course, is "No 'Kumbayah'.") "And as a bonus, sitting in the corner with a guitar makes it harder to get sucked into deadly boring small-talk." She smiles broadly -- she's liking this plan better by the second.

"Oooh, no fair," Solange says. "That gives you an out. Will you do me a favor? If it looks like I'm getting really trapped, will you call me over and say you need me for low harmony or something? There's at least one or two songs where you know I won't disgrace you."

"You betcha'," Folly says. She's got a faraway look in her eyes, like she's already working out a set list in her head. "Maybe one of those Beatles songs you taught me...." Her face lights up. "'We Can Work It Out'! Can you think of anything more perfect?" She's bouncing up and down now, giddily. "And it's got that great harmony bit in the middle. Oooh, this is gonna be so cool -- god, I can't believe I'm saying that about a friggin' cocktail hour...."

"No, you're saying it about a gig, now," Solange reminds her. "It's only the rest of us who are going to be stuck with it being a cocktail hour. Look, I'd better help with this transfer thing, or we're never going to get to dinner... but at least we've got a plan, now!"


Once the troop transport is complete, Folly's priorities are:

First and foremost, greet Martin (in that no-one-whacked-me- in-your-absence sort of way). As that won't happen 'til the GMs return, we'll skip ahead to...

Second, look in on Adonis, as Paige (presumably) asked that she do. She enters the tent somewhat tentatively, not wanting to disturb the lad if he is resting; if he is awake, she asks, "Feeling better, love?"

[Adonis is...let's say he's eating, since I'm sure Paige wouldn't overlook the necessity of food to most members of the family and he really wants to be fully recovered as soon as possible - for his father's sake.]

Folly finds him reclined on the bed, naked, surrounded by a partially eaten repast of typical family proportions. Mouth full, bottle in hand, Adonis nods. Eyes squint slightly as he struggles to recognise her. She feels familiar from somewhere and clearly knows who he is but he can't put a name to her face. Pretty little thing, though.

He swallows and licks his lips, nodding. "A little, yes...um..." uncertainty gives way to an inviting smile, "...you have me at a disadvantage; I don't know your name." Folly joins the growing throng of family who've experienced the intensity of his stare.

Folly returns the smile -- her own is warm and sweet -- and extends her hand. "I'm Folly," she says.

"I'm sure you are." He takes her hand and kisses her fingers once, still looking like he's working out a very difficult problem.

Folly quirks an eyebrow. She looks amused, in addition to being relieved that he's obviously feeling better.

"Paige asked me to sing for you. She thought a little music might do you some good." She pauses, and her brow creases with concern. "You had us all rather worried, you know."

He nods absently, mind clearly elsewhere. "Us?...Ah, you're family, on Pater's side, yes?" His tone invites the usual explanatory lineage.

"That's the rumor, anyway," Folly says, and grins. She doesn't elaborate.

Adonis continues: "Paige is a good woman; she listens, and cares."

Folly nods in complete agreement.

"Yes, perhaps we can sing for each other. I would like that." An idea occurs to him and he shifts uncomfortably, as if unsure of the right way to say something. "I know not how much Paige has told you: please partake of the wine - there's another bottle somewhere - or the food; but I regret we must avoid more intimate pleasures for the moment...at least until after Pater has gone. Apparently I must 'rest'." He sounds truly wistful, though with no note of bitterness or resentment.

"No worries, love," Folly replies through barely suppressed laughter. "Not every welcome wagon needs to be ridden."

Adonis laughs back, eyes sparkling with merriment, and something else, "And, no doubt, if the Cart were placed before the Horse, it would be Folly. But if your wain is not covered, it should be."

She sits, cross-legged, on the ground beside the cot and unslings her mandolin from her back. Her fingers fly over the strings, plucking out an intricate melody, as she warms up and checks her tuning.

A light dawns: Adonis leans forward, gesturing with the bottle. "It was you! It was your music I heard in my dream." He smiles warmly. "A song of Spring - you serenaded me." His smile conveys an ironical sense of this somehow being opposite to a norm. He swigs deeply from the bottle. "Please! Music is a food of Love. Play for me, and perhaps I can find a song for you."

"I wasn't sure you could hear me," Folly replies, oddly pleased by his reaction. "You were...." She hesitates, suddenly troubled. "You got sort of violent there for a minute." She hesitates again, not quite sure how to ask the next part, or perhaps worried about the answer. "Did your dream turn into a nightmare?"

"That did not end on waking." The warmth abruptly drains from his face and voice. "Do you know how it feels to be violated as you sleep? I have to be whole to be Holy; 'It' could have harmed more than you could possibly know." She suddenly sees that not far behind the beautiful, boyish exterior is a thing wild and cold, without remorse - something that, if crossed, might hunt her down across the wastes and tear her to pieces, leaving no grave or marker; no sign she had ever been. An icy draft makes her shiver. "Things that defile temples must pay the price." To Folly, it seems as if the shadows within the tent are playing tricks with her eyes, making his head seem somehow mishapen.

Folly shrinks back from him slightly, muscles tensed.

Then the warmth comes slowly back to his voice. "Still, it appears no harm was done; none need suffer...for now." He smiles, grimness turning to kindness even as she listens. "But it is not well to dwell on such things; -avuncular sigh- in future, ask no question unless you are sure you want to hear the answer..." He places a hand on her head in gesture of what might be benediction. "...whatever it may be. Come, play your song."

Folly looks at him for a long moment in silence, trying to work out just what he's talking about: Whole to be Holy? Defiling temples? She concludes that he must hold some sort of religious belief that condemns the sort of power Aisling used on him; and this conclusion troubles her deeply. Is he determined to hate Aisling for what she is?

"Whatever it may have felt like to you," she says quietly and with some trepidation, "she was trying to help you." It is obvious she doesn't want any bad blood between her cousins.

Adonis withdraws his hand and leans back against the pillows. He takes a long pull at the bottle, draining it. When the bottle is empty, it is cast aside to fall with a thud on the far side of the bed. Adonis wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before assuming a languid pose, right arm on a single raised knee, left across his belly, as if holding the bandage to his side. Perhaps his wound is paining him. All this without taking his eyes from the woman on the floor with the strung mandolin.

[Folly may wish to say or do something before, she certainly has the time. If she's sensitive, I imagine she finds his gaze uncomfortable but she can detect no hostility in it, merely long consideration over a difficult choice of words. She thinks perhaps he finds this sort of thing tricky.]

When Folly realizes Adonis is not hostile toward her, she relaxes visibly. His gaze does not seem to bother her; perhaps a lifetime on stage has inured her to such intense scrutiny.

Eventually he speaks: "You have named me; know then you spoke truly. Like you, I would aspire to inspire our relatives with my essence. Like you, I would have them hear my song. But neither the two of us can make even one person listen if that is not their wish." Folly may find it a relief when at last he looks away into some remote distance at his feet and begins to sing. She might initially believe it's to her but in the end she thinks it's to a wider audience, possibly including himself.

"Really don't mind if you sit this one out.
My word's but a whisper; your deafness a shout.
I may make you feel, but I can't make you think.
Your sperm's in the gutter; your love's in the sink.

So you ride yourselves over the fields
And you make all your animal deals
And your wise men don't know how it feels...
...To be thick...as a brick."

"Names are important, lady. Tell me, would it be Folly for me to Love you? Or would you Love to be my Folly?" Adonis' wry smile conveys there's more to this than a mere play on words. His tone is inviting and kindly.

It is the man entering the tent who answers that question. "'Twould be folly for any man to love her, but a wise man would gladly be a fool for her love." Martin crosses to Folly and drops a fraternal kiss on her head. "Someone said you were looking for me, babe." To Adonis: "You must be -- Daeon, right? The one Caine brought through? I'm Martin."

As Martin says 'Daeon', Adonis shakes his head regretfully, raising an eyebrow at the news that Caine brought him through, it's the first he's heard of it.

Adonis gets the feeling Martin isn't particularly sorry to have interrupted.

Neither, it seems, is Folly. "Martin!" she says gleefully, scrambling to her feet to greet him with a hug. "Welcome home, sweetie! You look like hell!" She emphasizes the latter by grabbing playfully at his stubbly chin. The delight in her voice makes it sound like a compliment, almost.

Martin manages not to break any of Folly's bones yet again with his return hug.

She's obviously flirting, but to Adonis's eye, Folly's manner with Martin seems far more friendly than seductive. On the other hand, her attention is so fully riveted on the guy that Adonis may well doubt his own ability to get into her pants anytime soon.

While Adonis doesn't doubt Martin could have that blade he wears at his hip out and ready for business if anything attacked, other than that low-level awareness, he's focused totally on Folly for a moment.

(Slang lesson time: Adonis may or may not be a gooseberry, but he's definitely a third wheel.)

And he is sensitive to others desire for privacy, OTOH this is his tent which he's been told not to leave so the solution is obvious. :-)

Folly's obvious delight at the new arrival seems infectious; Adonis revels in the sight of the two playful youngsters, smiling broadly as at two gambolling puppies. While the other two are engaged in their greetings, he gropes under the bed, coming up with another bottle of wine. By the time the two are paying attention to things other than each other, he's forced the cork in and is offering the bottle to Martin.

"Names are important: you may call me Adonis, for now!" He smiles mysteriously. "And I am known for other things than wisdom." [No shit! I hear from Jovian, Lilly, Conner, Julian, etc, etc. :-)] Then he bursts out laughing, as if the effort of being serious has proven too much. "I think I will just have to love you both."

Martin passes on the bottle. "Thanks, no, I have dinner duty later." To the extent that he reacts to the 'love you both' comment, it's negative, but his reactions are barely perceptible even to Adonis. (Folly, who knows him better, can tell better.)

Adonis shrugs and takes a swig himself.

[Negative as in 'no reaction' or as in 'adverse reaction'?]

[Folly]
[Adverse. I'm guessing it's some combination of "Sorry, bud, this is a two-player game," and "I'm not gay, but if I were.... Uh, nope, not even then."]

[GMs]
[Hardly anybody knows Martin better than Folly.]

Adonis makes no attempt to clarify the situation, he's confident someone will put Martin right soon enough.

"So how'd you get that hole in your midsection, Adonis? All the wounded were supposed to be with Jovian's dragonriders. Did you have a latecome party-crasher?" he asks.

"It was my fault." Adonis smiles mock-sheepishly. "We got carried away in an act of procreation."

"Uh, not we we," Folly cuts in, in case that bit wasn't completely obvious.

Martin didn't assume she was the 'we' but Folly can tell he's happy with the clarification.

Adonis nods emphatically. "I apologise. My native language has separate inclusive and exclusive pronouns; I sometimes forget Thari is different.

He touches the bandage at his side and chuckles, "It's true, you know; if sex is a pain in the side, you're doing it wrong."

"I suppose so," says Martin. "My only question is, what was her name, so I know better than to ask her out."

"That's a little unfair, don't you think? I did say it was my fault." He grins, "But I assure you she will never be Folly as long as you hold her in this regard." He leans forward, suddenly earnest with no trace of the mild mockery prevalent so far. "What you have is special; I cannot tell you how glad I am to find two such as you. I hope there are more; it would be good for the family."

Folly, momentarily flustered, goes a little pink; but then she recovers and says, "I think most of us youngers do get on better than our elders are rumored to. I hope we can continue to do so now that the rest of the family has returned."

Adonis' gentle smile breaks into radiance. It seems almost impossible to believe he could have said the cruel things of just two minutes ago. "Now I know we sing the same song." He offers the bottle, still more than half full. "Come, both of you! Will you drink with me?" Something about the invitation seems ritualistic; Folly's sure that to refuse would be a slap in the face. [She's probably the best judge of how Martin will respond.]

Folly accepts the bottle and takes a single symbolic swig. Despite Adonis's bright mood, she seems to feel the gravity of the moment.

After she has partaken, she neither offers the bottle to Martin nor hands it back to Adonis; rather, she holds it loosely in front of her so that Martin is free to take it if he so chooses, but he need not actively decline the invitation a second time.

"But perhaps a truly proper communion should wait 'til tonight, when we may share sustenance and good cheer with the whole family," Folly says. Martin may realize, even if Adonis does not, that this is partly her way of giving him an out if he wants one. "It is my understanding that we are all expected to attend dinner tonight as a family; so you'll be able to see for yourself how well we do or don't get along." She smiles, warmly.

Martin, Folly suspects, has been increasingly displeased by the tenor of this conversation. However, perhaps recognizing that he's been put on the spot, he makes the best of it by taking the bottle from Folly and having a single swig himself.

Adonis takes the bottle from him and also takes one swig, not bothering to wipe the top first. His attention is on Martin and stays there.

"I have a number of things to do before dinner, so I should let you rest, Adonis." The pause is just long enough that Adonis is aware that Martin was remembering and committing the name to memory. "Folly, if you get a chance before dinner, there's someone I want to introduce you to. You know how to get hold of me if I'm hard to find."

Folly nods. "I won't be much longer here, I think. I'll catch up when I'm done."

"Good afternoon," he says, and is on his way [unless Folly chooses to accompany him].

Folly watches him go, looking very much like she'd like nothing better than to go with him. However, she still hasn't given Adonis his promised song....

Adonis remains looking at the space where Martin was. "A remarkable man. Not at ease with intimacy, I think, at least with strangers, but with a fine nobility of spirit. Not everyone would have drunk. I look forward to the day when he is more comfortable in my presence."

All Folly says in reply is, "He is a very private person."

He returns his attention to Folly. "You do not go with him. Do you still wish to sing to me? I need to hear you sing."

And so, once Martin has departed, she seats herself on the ground once more and begins to play.

The tune is joyful and full of life, a song of Spring; and Folly takes great pleasure in the singing of it. It is almost as if the gladness in her heart has formed itself into notes that now bubble up, almost unbidden, to fill the air.

Adonis lets the song wash over him and to Folly it might almost seem he needs it as much as the food and drink strewn on and around his bed. Several times he almost bursts into song himself and his feet jig on the bed as if they would dance if he let them. A new vigour seems to flow in him.

When the song concludes, she smiles up at Adonis. "But I should let you rest. See you at dinner?"

There's now a bright sparkle in his eye that wasn't there before, he looks like someone just come out of a shower. "Ah! To feel the sap rise." He stands, carefully, still stark naked. "Pater told me to 'rest'; it is not the therapy I would have chosen. If I am well enough to attend 'dinner', it will be owed to you...and Paige." He gestures to the remnants of food.

"But there are other considerations; I have two families, and for the moment am more important to one than the other. So I cannot say if we will meet later tonight or not." He reaches for the pillow and removes the pillowcase. "But be assured we will talk again." He tears the pillowcase open, smiling happily. "Now you want to be with Martin and it is right you should have some time together. He is tired and also needs to hear your song."

Folly has gone a little pink again, but she nods. She stands, brushes the dust from the seat of her leather trousers, and slings her instrument over her shoulder.

Adonis finishes by wrapping the torn pillowcase around his loins into a loose skirt tied at the side. The thin cotton cloth hides little and somehow seems to accentuate his nakedness rather than hide it. "Farewell lady, and thank you for your understanding." He offers his hand. If Folly accepts it, she knows he will kiss rather than shake hers.

Folly slides her hand into his and gives his fingers a gentle squeeze. "Farewell," she says, smiling. "Speedy recovery."

As Folly leaves, Adonis pours wine into an unused goblet. He's smiling expectantly.

[Expecting Julian, in fact.]

Disappointment. It's Vista, one of the senior rangers, who appears with pants, no less, and instructions to accompany Adonis to the Castle.

"Your father wanted me to help you to the Castle, your lordship. We're to go up with Prince Caine and get a room for you to rest. If you need help dressing, your lordship, I can assist," says Vista.

If Adonis is disappointed or surprised, he does not show it. He strolls over, exchanging the goblet and a smile for the pants [I assume these are what we would call 'trousers' and not a pair of what you would call 'shorts' :-)].

"As you can see, I am dressed without your assistance, though I am grateful to you for your attention and to my father for his consideration." He places the articles of clothing carefully on the bed. "And now, I will try to walk with as little aid as possible but I suspect your support will be needed at some point. Please bring me to Prince Caine."

While walking, Adonis mentions a minor point of etiquette. "Incidentally, Vista, honorifics are inappropriate unless used correctly. Do you know the correct honorific that applies to one such as I?"

Vista says, "Of course, your lordship. You're Prince Julian's son, which means you're a lord of Amber."

Adonis' tone is conversational, almost as if he's giving Vista an intimately private sermon. "Each man is many things, including another man's son but that is not all he is. If you must use an honorific toward me, the correct term is 'Your Divinity' but I confess I find the use of honorifics entirely distasteful and would appreciate it if, in my presence and with the proper respect, you would call me 'Adonis', for the time being." -quirky grin- "How you refer to me when I cannot hear you is, of course, a matter for your own conscience but now you know my wishes in the matter. Spread the word!"

If Vista has a religion, its name is Rangerhood, and its god is Adonis' father.

"With all due respect," says Vista, "we get a lot of foreigners here with fancy titles, come to join the Rangers. The first thing they learn is that Arden has her own honors. In Arden, you're Prince Julian's son. That's the highest title a man could aspire to around here."

He pauses. "If you don't care for honorifics, I suppose 'sir' will have do. Sir."

Adonis stops walking, hand on bandage. The wound, or something, seems to be tiring him. He breathes heavily for a few seconds, staring at the ground. As the old ranger moves to help him, he waves him away and looks up, one eyebrow raised in question. "You think by denying a title I dishonour my father?" He looks down again, thinking. "I know you, Vista, but if you think this, you do not know me." _Of course, there is no reason that you should._

He looks up once more. "There will be more of this at the castle, won't there?" He squints in the direction of Kolvir [I don't know if it's in sight but Adonis knows where it is anyway], then he searches about in all directions. To Vista he suddenly seems like a hunted stag seeking refuge from the dogs.

"Vista! You love my father, as I do. When you see him, you may speak of me in any words you choose, using honorifics or not as you see fit. Tell my father: that I know why he chose you; that I know he has worries and fears, and that I can and will help him; he knows where to find me."

"But tell him also that I cannot be what he wants me to be and for that I am more sorry than he can know. That in lieu of understanding, perhaps the best we can hope for is acceptance." Adonis fixes him with his stare. "Tell me you will do us this service!"

"You'll hurt yourself, sir, if you go out there alone!" Vista moves to stop him, but Adonis is quicker than Vista and able to elude him, especially since Vista is trying to be gentle because of Adonis' injury.

Adonis turns and heads for the woods by the quickest route, bearing in mind his injury.


[T]he first thing [Aisling]'s going to do when she gets back is get a mug of tea, and then check in on the new medical tent (carefully spying in first to make sure Adonis isn't there), which puts her there before Brennan. She makes sure everyone's still alive, and no one has been further damaged, and then asks Conner, "Is Adonis recovering?"

"I have heard nothing to the contrary." Conner replies. "Paige is playing nursemaid in a private tent over that way." He gestures. "Saw her with a bucket and some bread heading in a while ago so I presume he is up and hungry."

Aisling looks slightly relieved. "Good." Then, quieter so that only Conner could hear, "You will protect these people from him if he decides that all my handiwork must be unmade?" she gestures around the tent of wounded.

"Brita knows where to hit him." Conner replies with a smile.

"Ah," Aisling says, looking around the Brita-less tent (correct?) unhappily.

[Considering this occurred before the whole Brennan arrives encounter, correct.]

"Don't worry about the little Godling." Conner says reassuringly. "I'll arrange for guards to be put around the tent just to be on the safe side."

The "Godling" comment nets Conner the beginnings of a odd look (high water would see the beginnings of a slightly baffled and slightly suspicious look), which evaporates at his next sentence into a warm smile from Aisling.

"Thank you. I will leave you to your work, then, but please do not hesitate to call me if I can be of assistance...?" the last trails from sincere formula to a questioning tone--she wonders how much doubt and suspicion Adonis's drama has left her to deal with.

Conner smiles back. "I will. Your skills are quite impressive if I may say so."

She graces him with a smile like a patch of sun. "Thank you," she says, a tinge of relief in her voice. Then she glances off towards the entrance to the tent, gives him a brief dashing bow, and escapes.

She'd hang around longer, but he can probably tell she's distracted.

Conner watches her go with a curious look and then returns to his duties.


"Yeeeeeeeesss?"

"Random. We're back. Just about all of us, anyway. Bring me through? You need a report on a few things, I think."

"By all means, join me."

Brennan is pulled through into the library, where Random is sitting in an overstuffed chair surrounded by old books. Nestor is nowhere in sight. Random pulls a long bell pull and sits back. "How goes it?"

[Brennan wouldn't know from Nestor.]

Brennan takes a moment to acclimate to the change in light, and looks around. His eyes linger on the books, but only for a moment. He then looks like he's considering saluting, or some such ostentations display of honor, but rejects it outright.

He settles for a "Can I sit?" as he starts to sit.

Random apparently considers a range of flip responses and settles on "Please don't stand on formality."

Then at the very most, Brennan will probably sit on formality. But even that, not so much.

(That he can sit with two swords at his belt is perhaps impressive to the easily impressed. That he somehow managed to pick up a short sword from somewhere, that the shortsword now no longer looks like it's gone through Breek's hell, and that it matches the longer sword he always carries might be a little more impressive... to the easily impressed.)

"It goes, Your Majesty. It goes. And it comes back, too."

A servant arrives in response to the bell pull. "Coffee, please. Nephew? Coffee? There's also Rebman Salt Tea and that fish-paste stuff, but I'd recommend the coffee..."

"Coffee, coffee, coffee, please."

Coffee happens.

Mmm, coffee. Coffee good.

Brennan is going to assume that Random is going to stop him if one of the others has already given him a detailed briefing, but he's been paying attention and he hasn't noticed too many missing military types from Heather Vale.

"The main part of your army is now officially back. Back in Heather Vale, anyway, which I gather is more than a hop and a skip away from Amber proper. Bleys' and Julian's cavalries, and Benedict's forces. I've been taking care of your men, Corwin's Little Furry Guys, the Nobility, the Sailors, and Eric's gaurd. Astonishingly, no fighting between any of those last, and no more damage done than had been done on the battlefield.

"About the only ones not back yet are Jovian, with the Royal Air Force. And Benedict and Lilly. You should also know that Daeon was wounded-- enough to require hospitalization, and I don't know the details-- and that Marius is still hanging on in a bunk that can't be that far away from Daeon.

"Caine seems to be nominally in charge down there, and there haven't been any major catastrophes or fights. The various factions that might feel up to getting fractious are parcelled away and working at some enforced co-operative tasks, like setting up for a stay and helping out in the hospital area, under men I think I can trust. There shouldn't be any problems." It's pretty obvious that Brennan will cheerfully go back and enforce that attitude if he finds out he's overestimated them.

Random has been nodding at appropriate places.

"Capital, Brennan. We've pulled off the feat of a lifetime just getting down there and back with the army partly intact. However, we've got no more than a few days breathing room here. They're going to want to get paid and they're going to want to get laid. Some of 'em will want to go home to shadow and some home to Amber. Your Little Furry Guys will probably want to build a temple or something. What's your recommendation on disposition of the troops?"

[Brennan]
"Do they think they're going to get paid for a week, or for five years?" he quips. "In any case, I can't help you very much with that. I haven't been here and in charge of finances for the last five, so I have no idea what the money situation is. With a family full of adepts, coming up with raw money shouldn't be that tough, but I have no idea how badly that would screw the economy.

"You can get away with not paying the Little Furry Guys, and probably even the Nobles; I don't know what deals people had worked out with the Shadow troops; but I wouldn't advise skipping out on payments to the army or the navy. They'll get testy."

[Random]
"Yep. I don't have much experience actually paying people, either. The navy has a way of dealing with this, I bet. Imagine going to sea for a six month tour and coming back to a century's compound interest."

[Brennan]
"Well, Caine's back. And hasn't Gerard been here the whole time? I've met some of the extra cousins, too. I'd be surprised if someome, somewhere, hasn't given the matter some thought, already."

It's not that Brennan isn't interested. It's that he's not qualified to comment at this moment, and he's rather reserve any counsel on the matter until it can be informed counsel.

"Whatever the decision on the Little Furry Guys is, it's going to have to come pretty soon. Corwin promised those guys a paradise, and from from what I've stitched together, they fought three times to achieve it. They're either Amber's Littlest Citizens, or they're not-- in which case someone ought to lead them back to a home that's been altered to leave them in charge and served by Little Furry Women peeling grapes, or whatever floats their boat."

[Random]
"Do you think they should stay?"

[Brennan]
"Tough question. On the plus side, they've sure as Hell earned some form of reward for their service. They fight like maniacs made out of bricks. They follow orders without any question at all, just about.

"On the minus side, they're about as sharp as a sack of wet mice. Can we drill into their heads who they take orders from and who they don't? And they're more than slightly creepy, at times. Does Corwin know how much he and Brand thought alike on some of those issues?"

[Random]
"Are you gonna tell Corwin that? I'm not, not sober, anyway."

[Brennan]
"Similarly, liberty for the troops shouldn't be too tough to obtain with a family full of adepts. Shadow is good for nothing if it can't absorb the impulses of a few hundred or a few thousand sailors at a time."

It should be clear that Brennan doesn't think much of the idea of leading sailors to liberty through Shadow personally, mind you. Just that someone else suitable can be appointed to the task if need be."

Random nods here.

A really high Water type might realize Brennan is thinking Daeon would be just about perfect for the job, if he's walked the Pattern.

[The words 'Daeon' and 'job' do not easily connect in the mind of any high water type...]

[Brennan]
"I wouldn't go gutting the armed forces just yet, though. I'm sure you'll get an earful from the rest of the family soon, but there were Moonriders crawling all over the funeral services. For that matter, Bleys and I met some scouting on the way home. I don't think they like us, which is fine, because it's very mutual on my part. More over, I flatly think that the High Marshall is going to put you-- and the rest of us-- through as big a test as they can think up now that Oberon is gone."

[Random]
"If they do give us a test, we shall have to cheat."

Here, Brennan actually comes close to a grin. "Brennan's First Law: If you're not winning, you're not cheating effectively enough."

[Random]
"I've never met Moonriders. Tell me more of them."

[Brennan]
"They are not shiny happy people. At least their so-called High Marshall isn't. He's an arrogant and testy bastard, and if he does decide to make a run at us, I hope I get to personally take part in kicking him back to wherever it is he's coming from.

"That might be just a little tougher than I'm making it sound, though, since the person he reminded me of most, in some ways, was Benedict."

He thinks about clarifying that, to point out that he didn't mean Benedict was an arrogant and testy bastard, then figures Random will know what he meant.

"They're also not the friendliest people. They may not all be as bad as the High Marshall, but there were six at the funeral, and only five at the site where we met them. I'll stake anything you like that the sixth one was off hiding somewhere, watching us. And while I did get an invitation to Ghenesh, I more-than-half expect it was some sort of veiled insult or threat.

"In general, I don't like them. They're going to cause trouble."

[Random]
"Hmm. They were before my time. We'll ask about them at dinner, I suppose."

[Brennan]
"Reid was starting to draw a Trump of Yg, earlier, with what success I do not know. I think that's a brilliant idea. The idea of keeping some sort of permanent watch on that place is a better idea still."

[Random]
"That might be a good idea, especially if we're looking to keep an army from crossing towards us. The down side is that it would almost have to be manned by family members."

"And, perhaps, Little Furry Guys. 'And the first of the New Commandments shall be: Do Not Molest The Tree.'"

"We'll see. Or rather, 'yeah, maybe, but not if it's gonna get munched really easily without us noticing.'"

He stops for a moment, reviewing the events of the past week, then, "Oh! Before I forget, again, Dworkin wanted me to ask you a question. Specifically, he wants to know if he is welcome in your castle. He asked at the funeral."

Random starts, slightly. "My castle? I suppose it is these days. I would like to speak with him, and I would be pleased to welcome him as a guest to Amber."

He takes a moment to scan back the trip from Chaos back to Ygg through his mind, hesitates, and considers whether he's stepover whatever bounds Random is going to set in his Kingly Role.


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Last modified: 09 June 2002