Martin waits until Caine is out of sight and hearing to turn back to Solange. "Christ, what a clusterf**k," he says. "You were a trooper, Solange. I couldn't have done it without you. Thanks."
She smiles and shakes her head. "I didn't do much--just came in on the tail end of things and did what I was told. You were the one that took charge and made difficult decisions and stood your ground admirably.
"Martin, I..."
Solange pauses and exhales, orders her thoughts, and starts again.
Martin starts to say something as Solange hesitates, but decides against and lets her continue.
She looks up at him. "You flinched when I called you 'sir.' Earlier. When I asked if I could take Robin aside.
"You know, this is rather awkward. You are at least two people to me. No, three. You are the king's son and you have authority over me in that regard. You are the Knight-Commander of the Order of the Card, and also have authority over me in that regard. But last, you are simply Martin, and we've shared...things."
A faint blush rises to her cheeks, but her gaze doesn't falter.
"In the situation regarding taking Robin aside, I wasn't sure how much familiarity was appropriate for me to claim, so I erred on the side of formality. Also, in doing so I hoped to portray support for your position and authority. Not--" she smiles, "--not that I have much influence with many of my cousins or elders, but I suppose every little bit helps and I do represent my Father to a certain extent in such public situations.
"So...I'm sorry if you thought I was overly formal. But I think I needed to be, that it was the right thing to do."
Martin nods once. "I think you were right, Solange. I'm just not very good at being a Prince yet. The politicking and the title don't sit well on my shoulder. It was easier when I was just the Regent's nephew. You know what I mean," he says, and it's not really a question.
She nods and smiles gently at him. "Despite what you may think, you did fine today."
"There are other things we should talk about, you and I. Not now, I guess, when you need to check in with your father, and I need to report to mine, but sometime soon. I feel like it's been ages since we had a chance to sit down, and so much has happened: the masquerade, Dara, Xanadu, and everything else. I haven't even had a chance to tell you and Aunt Felicity how sorry I am about your uncle." He takes one of Solange's hands in his own and squeezes it, then releases it gently.
Solange sighs as she thinks about Lord Hardwind, then remembers suddenly that she has a condolences card for Aunt Felicty from Folly that she'd forgotten all about. That conversation with her foster sister seemed so long ago.
"But that can all wait. Maybe after dinner, since I'm sure we'll be working while we eat? Unless you'd rather talk now."
"Perhaps now would be better," Solange suggests. "With your leave, when I trump Father I wanted to go back to Xanadu and check on Paige. She and I have a lot of catching up to do, too."
"Paige," Martin says, and smiles tightly, not so much at Solange as sort of beyond her. "Of course you have my leave, Solange. But yes, we can talk now. I don't have an office yet, but I do have a new, improved royal suite where we could at least sit down in civilized comfort. We can go there to talk. It's where they'll look for me when something else comes up anyway."
He offers Solange his arm.
She hesitates just the briefest amount--she shouldn't take his arm, he's engaged to Folly, but that's silly, she's overreacting, it's an invitation to talk, nothing more, don't read anything else into it--then smiles and accepts the arm. "Thank you."
They start their walk down the hallway and she asks, "So, as Knight Commander of the Order of the Card, what plans do you have for the Order?"
"Folly and I were talking about that while we were travelling after the coronation. The first order of business I had in mind was defense of the Royal Family," Martin explains. "I suppose keeping Julian from flying off half-cocked and getting himself killed avenging Adonis qualifies." He flashes a wry grin Solange's way, then continues in a more serious tone.
"I think we'll be a more political order than Ruby, by definition. Dad didn't give me a squad of KCs, which I suppose reflects an intention to keep the order small. I think the Regency Council people all deserve honors for the work they put in keeping Amber in one piece during the war. In the short term, that's who I'm looking at. Long term I haven't thought about yet, but I'm open to suggestions. What do you think we should do, Dame Solange?"
Solange chuckles. "Turn Castle Xanadu into a discotheque and use the KCs as staff. You can be the bouncer, Lucas can be the interior designer, Cambina can run the light show, and Happenstance can be the house band. Expand personnel as needed if business takes off.
"Seriously, though? Each person you knighted has particular talents and skills. Find out what they are, figure out what needs to be accomplished, and fit the two together. Easy as sliding down the banister in the Great Hall when you were five," she grins at him.
"They don't have a banister in the Great Hall in Rebma," Martin says, but he's grinning. "Yeah, I take your point, though. The hardest part in the near term is going to be working out the rough edges with Ruby. What with me and Aisling having gone at it in the hall after Dara's little card trick, things could get tense. I talked with Brennan, and I think he and I are square, but I haven't talked to most of the rest of them, and now this thing with Adonis."
He shakes his head sadly, then adds: "Good thing I have the friendliest knight in Amber on my team to patch things up."
"Yes, I believe Folly will be very handy at conflict resolution," Solange smiles, eyes twinkling.
As they pass into the family wing, Martin nods to the guards.
"I think it's a wise decision to make the Order of the Card more of a political body," Solange comments. "Less overlap with the Ruby Knights and better use of available resources, certainly.
"Both Orders serve your father. Perhaps this is naive of me, but why would there be any rough edges to smooth out? Aren't we all on the same side, all working together for a common good and all that?"
"That's the plan," Martin agrees. "But you saw all the squabbling we had on the Regency council, and the stakes were both lower and higher there. Lower, in that your father had no permanent boons to offer, and higher, in that we might all die if we didn't pull together. We no longer have that impetus and there are gains to be had by climbing over our cousins. There are a lot of us, and a limited amount of Dad's attention. I hope I'm worried over nothing, but I'd rather prepare for the worst and be pleasantly surprised than be caught off guard by infighting."
Solange smiles grimly. "Ah, to come of age in the royal family...how sweet the smell of personal ambition as it pervades the younger generation.
"I remember hearing stories as I grew up of the scheming exploits of my aunts and uncles. I suppose the apple doesn't fall far from the tree for a good number of us. I hope you're right, that you're worried over nothing."
Solange and Martin pass another set of guards as they take the three steps that lead up to the royal wing where he now has rooms. The guards salute. They are armed, and Solange feels their presence is not entirely perfunctory.
Nor would she expect it to be. She notes them and turns back to Martin.
"Financial advising. That's what I'm good at," she states without preamble. "I'm also rather unflappable and really good at riding a horse. I'm not sure how the last two would be applicable, but there you go. As well, I'm pretty comfortable now doing Patterny things, having spent a good chunk of my recent time out in shadow. The shadows I travelled were higher tech, so perhaps the familiarity and knowledge I acquired would be useful to Xanadu."
Solange shrugs. "Martin, I don't know what you need as Knight Commander. I've be gone for awhile, and things change quickly." She smiles to herself, thinking Things change quickly, yet they remain the same. Funny how that works. "But all you need is ask," she continues. "I want to be useful."
"And you are, and you will be," Martin replies with a smile. "You could be really useful in Xanadu right now helping my father make smart policy decisions, or starting a trade mission of some sort--the same things we did during the Regency--or even teaching my little brother how not to trip over his own feet in court. Someone has to do that and for obvious reasons it can't be me, especially not if I have to stay here and run Amber for Dad."
Solange quirks an eyebrow. "I didn't know you were officially going to stay here. I didn't know what Uncle Random's plans were for Amber, now that he's moved to Xanadu. Of course you wouldn't want to leave the squiggle downstairs unguarded, even if it is damaged, but is that all Amber is going to be now? A garrison? Or are there plans to continue to restore it to something of its former glory?"
"I don't know," Martin confesses. "Dad hasn't shared his overall plans with me, if he even has any yet. And Adonis' death changes the equation completely." He stops in front of a door, which he opens and gestures Solange into. The room beyond is clearly Martin's: his possessions, including sheathed weapons and musical instruments, some of which are cased, are strewn about the living area. It looks like he hasn't been here in several days, and he hasn't finished unpacked yet. Several doorways lead off into other rooms, almost certainly including a bedchamber.
Once they're inside and the door is closed, he says, "There'll always be something for you to do, Solange, because you find what needs doing and do it. But that's not really what I wanted to talk to you about."
He gestures Solange to a clear spot on the couch.
"I wanted to talk to you about Folly."
Solange settles onto the proffered couch and looks up at Martin. "I talked with her after Lilly's patternwalk," she says, smiling like the cat that ate the canary. "She told me that you'd officially asked Father for permission to marry her."
"Is that what she said?" The smile seems almost drawn out of Martin against his will, as if he'd wanted to keep it to himself and only the slightest of upturns was allowed to show itself at the corners of his mouth. His eyes are sparkling. But after a moment the expression fades a little, and he asks, "You're OK with this? I mean, I feel like I've treated you badly. Maybe it's my ego talking, but I've been worried that you were going to be--upset, angry--that I didn't talk to you first. After everything, I owe it to you to clear the waters."
Solange gazes into the middle distance between them. "What we did, I don't regret. I needed...that intimacy...then, and the time we spent together was quite...nice." She breathes out the last word and smiles, infusing it with the pleasant memories of their lovemaking.
A reflection of her smile curves up the corner of Martin's mouth, as if he's sharing those fond memories.
She looks up at Martin, the smile still on her face. "I'm not angry. You and Folly are good together. I sincerely wish you all happiness."
Her eyes linger on his blonde hair...his light eyes...the curve of his chin...and she sighs. "While I was out in shadow, thinking back on us, I realized that you reminded me of someone. I think that's partly why I was so drawn to you. That's not really a good basis for a long-term relationship, though, is it?" she chuckles.
Martin dips his head, glancing for a moment at something on the floor between himself and Solange. "No," he says, very quietly, "it's not, not really."
Solange pauses, studying him. "Martin. Folly loves _you_. You're not a substitute for your father."
Martin glances up at her through his blond lashes, looking very boyish. His eyebrows arch slightly, as if to ask how she could think he was thinking such a thing.
She gazes back at him silently, not answering his unspoken question, and there's a challenge in her raised eyebrows that dares him to contradict her. He can drop the matter if he likes, but she won't let him go down this destructive path.
He doesn't say anything.
Solange raises her own chin, her eyes bright. "I hope we can still be friends," she concludes wistfully.
He raises his head again, and looks back up at Solange. "I hope so too. We're going to have to put up with each other for a very long time, so let's make the best of it."
She smiles.
His smile returns as he speaks, but then it falters. "I haven't talked to Folly about it at all, but I don't think she'll care. I won't talk to her about it either, unless you're ready to, or she comes to me with it. But don't let Lucas--or anyone else--push you into doing anything you don't want to by threatening to tell her about what happened between us. Okay?"
"Never," Solange states assuredly, making a dismissive gesture. "I do think it's a good idea to tell Folly. Necessary, even. I wouldn't want this hanging between the three of us. If you want me to...? But, in the end, I think it's better coming from you."
Martin nods, once. "And I think it'll come better from you. Folly is used to the idea that there have been women in my life I don't discuss, that I respect their privacy as I respect hers. That you wouldn't tell her, especially since she's obviously taken you into her confidence about Dad, may be more of a surprise. But if that's what you want, I'll tell her the next time we have a good long talk."
"I probably should have broached the subject when Folly and I were talking last, but I assumed if you were already as seriously involved with her as she indicated, then you'd already told her about us while I was away in shadow." She spreads her hands. "I didn't mean that as a barb, Martin. It was a hopeful rationalization on my part that I used to convince myself I didn't need to bring it up. Folly was so happy at the time..."
Solange pauses. "If I see her and have the opportunity to talk, I'll tell her about us. Otherwise, if you see her before I do, please feel free to do so yourself. Will that suit?"
"That'll suit. But if you're headed back to Xanadu soon, you'll probably see her before I do."
Solange nods.
He adds, "I'm glad we had a chance to chat about this. It's been weighing on my mind since I missed you at the coronation."
She stands and clasps her hands in front of her. "Thank you, I appreciate it. I'm very glad we talked too. I have a couple of things to do here in Amber, and then I'll trump Father and go through back to Xanadu. Do you have any messages you'd like me to pass along?"
"Thanks, but I need to talk to my father anyway. There's nothing that I can't or shouldn't route through him other than sending my love to Folly," Martin explains.
"I'll mention that to her when I see her," Solange smiles. "Take care and...goodbye." Shades of meaning in the last word, she kisses Martin on the cheek, then turns away and leaves the room.
After leaving Martin, Solange closes the door behind her softly. Her talk with Martin went in an unexpected direction, but she's content with what was said and how the conversation ended. There's more trepidation in the back of her mind wondering how Folly will take the news of her past relationship with Martin, but first things first.
She passes the guards and pays them no mind, her thoughts already turning to other matters: trump Father, report, check on Paige. But first track down some help for Father in Xanadu.
Solange checks the infirmary first, looking for father's two favorite pages: Scamp with the dark hair and roguish smile, and freckled Constant with the calm demeanor. She stands in the doorway for a moment, listening for the sound of boyish voices, but the rooms are quiet aside from muffled tones talking somewhere in the back.
She slips away unnoticed and next checks the kitchens. Boys are always hungry. She finds the two of them in a corner near the back door at their ease and eating raspberry tarts, apparently sufficiently recovered from the recent emergency. They stand rather guiltily, and Constant wipes his face on his sleeve while Scamp hides the last tart in his pocket.
Smiling, Solange leads them from the kitchens and instructs them to pack their belongings--they're going to Xanadu to join Prince Gerard. They scamper away excitedly and return a few minutes later, each with a bag slung over his shoulder, Constant still with telltale traces of jam at the corner of his mouth.
Her two charges in tow, Solange leads them to a secluded hallway and pulls out her trump of her father. She regards his image, willing a contact to form.
Gerard sounds resigned and weary as he answers, "Who is it?"
"Solange," she smiles. "Surprise. I have Scamp and Constant here to come through to you." Solange glances over at the two boys, whose eyes are wide. "It's safe," she reassures them. "Just take my hand and I'll pass you through to Prince Gerard."
Scamp comes forward first and takes Solange's hand. Gerard reaches out for Scamp and pulls him through. He's followed closely by Constant.
Solange comes through last.
Julian and Robin walk through what seems like a maze of corridors, some with windows opening onto blessed sunlight, and others dank and dark as a tomb or a dungeon. The mismatched corridors of the old castle aren't damp like sewers, but they have some of the same claustrophobic qualities.
As the hush in Robin's ears slowly fades, the creaking and looming of the Castle slinks into its place. Open sunlit corridors are only unpleasant. Dark sewer corridors bring subtle shudders and a foundering sense of disorientation. Luckily, Julian's white stride is beside her so Robin doesn't get turned around. This time.
Dung, she hates this place!
Eventually, Julian and Robin arrive at the infirmary. Before they can do so much as look for Gerard, though, they see a familiar face: Couth. He's speaking to someone Robin doesn't know, a healer from the look of him, but when he catches sight of Robin and Julian as they enter the infirmary, his expression alters to one of relief. He excuses himself to the doctor and comes to greet them.
"Warden, Robin," he says, bowing his head. "I got a report, for both of ya."
Though Robin doesn't have a smile in her for Couth's handsome face today, still it's nice to see the man again. No nodding! Not yet. But she stands ready for the report.
Julian is apparently in better shape than Robin, because he nods, and Couth begins his tale.
"I gave your gifts to Lady Paige like you said, Robin, but she'd already had the babies, so some of them didn't help much. I think she likes the blanket, though, cause I've seen it."
A twitch at the side of Robin's mouth will have to do for a smile and she gently inclines her head in a thank-you to Couth.
Realizing he's getting distracted. "Anyway, a few days ago Breeze came in somehow by magic and hit his head, and he's been unconscious since them. I look in on him every day, hoping he'll come round, and today he did. But he went crazy and hit one of the guards, and ran off in the castle. Not long after that, the alarm sounded, and I've heard all sorts of stories about something Deep Green coming up, but the drums don't tell me what really happened.
"What I do know is they brought in Sage, the runner that Vista's been using, a little while ago. He'd had a fainting fit while all the trouble was happening, and now he's crying for his mama. And here's the other funny thing: you remember Tatter, who used to be a runner at Whistling Pines? He was up here running an errand and the king hadn't released him to go back. Someone brought him in too, for a fainting fit. They're both back in there--" Couth gestures with his thumb at the rooms behind him "--resting up. I looked in on both of them and the healers say there ain't nothing wrong with them."
"Hunh." Robin blows a little breath out. There's some sort of pattern there, but what with adding her and Julian to the picture, she'd be darned if she could see it.
"Anyone else in the Castle in for fainting spells?" the Ranger asks as she makes her way toward the back rooms.
"Nope, none that I heard of," says Couth. "Or they didn't come here."
It is Julian who answers the underlying question Robin didn't ask. "Adonis'," he says. "Both of them."
"But..." Robin flips her hand between herself and the Warden in a 'what about us?' gesture. "It wasn't just being in Arcadia at the time. Totter didn't twinge."
"You and I are advanced initiates of a power that protects us from the Deep Green," Julian explains. "We can manifest it as a defense, but I surmise it also rendered us vulnerable to the backlash of what happened in the Castle. We were, after all, in between here and there."
Couth stands by, adding nothing since all this talk is over his head.
"So you think the Scream was directional instead of radial?" Robin considers that carefully as she steps into the back rooms of the infirmary and looks around.
"Or it was centered on the being that actually screamed, and we were closer to it," Julian suggests, following Robin.
The room has been cleaned up, but there are signs that there was a fight in this ward earlier to those with eyes to see them. Toward the back of the room, two youths rest in beds near each other. Both are dark-haired and dark-eyed, and Robin can see a resemblance to Adonis in the shapes of their faces. They're both asleep.
The girl's brow furrows and she looks around the room again before turning to Couth. "Where's Breeze?" she asks in a worried voice.
"I dunno," says Couth. "Ain't seen him since I came back."
Julian steps back into the front of the infirmary and Robin can hear him question one of the staff about Breeze. The woman sounds angry to Robin beneath her deferential tone as she tells Julian that Breeze woke up and attacked one of the guards before fleeing into the Castle.
He seems to have been the cause of the alarm Couth mentioned earlier.
Robin frowns as she tries to think around her headache. She knows that Solange sent Breeze 'to her father.' She just assumed that that meant here, but... well the universe is a little more open these days. Best to check.
"Do you know where Gerard is, Couth?"
Couth shrugs. "Nope. Sorry, Robin."
Julian is able to locate Gerard by the expedient of trumping him. Gerard is in Xanadu and reports that Breeze is asleep following his ordeal, and will be under his care and that of Robin's cousin Hannah, another physician, for the nonce. Based on what Gerard has learned so far, Gerard feels it's best to keep him in Xanadu for the nonce.
Julian needs to stay in Amber to see to the memorial arrangements, but Gerard agrees to contact him if Breeze's condition changes for the worse. He's sleeping off the aftereffects of both Dragon possession and some divination to determine what happened to him, and rest is the best thing for him.
Robin can visit Breeze in Xanadu to check on him if she likes once he's awake and ready for visitors.
Robin would rather stay in Amber with her father, helping with the Memorial arrangements and liaisoning with the Rangers as necessary. If Gerard's prognosis and diagnosis are okay with Julian, then they're okay with Robin. (Do we want to gloss her finding about Brita's kidnapping and return and Aisling's demise? Or just say that it didn't come up?)
[It may be such old news that people don't think to mention it. I think we should assume she knows about it from the time while she and Julian were riding.]
But yes, Robin would like to check personally on Breeze (after the Memorial) and hopefully after Julian can give her some Dragon-sniffin' lessons.
Brennan arrives at the top of the pyramid depicted on his Trump, and is met this time by a peaceful scene. Warriors are about the complex, but so are priests and priestesses, minding their many duties. He sees one of the priests send someone off, presumably to tell Ambrose or Tayanna of his arrival.
At the base of the pyramid, a priest greets him and offers to take him to see the god, his brother. Brennan suspects Ambrose had a lookout stationed for him; it's the sort of petty parlor trick Brand used to reinforce his godhead. In fact, Brennan can recall the announcement of visits by Clarissa or Fiona, announced in just such a manner.
Given the implications of Brennan's Trump winding up in someone else's hands and used to make mischief, he'd have been extremely disappointed if Ambrose hadn't had the spot watched.
The priest leads Brennan to the inner chambers of the complex, specifically to the office that Brand used to occupy and that Ambrose has now taken as his own to decipher Brand's papers.
A knock at the door brings Ambrose, clearly preoccupied, to answer. "You were told not to disturb--" he begins in Uxmali, but then he catches sight of Brennan behind the priest and changes his tune. "You have done well in bringing my brother to me. Thank you. You are dismissed."
Brennan stifles the lopsided smirk that would normally meet a display like that.
To Brennan, he adds, "Come in," in Thari, and gestures him into the office. The papers and code wheels are scattered, but in purposeful ways that suggest Ambrose has been interrupted at his work. There is plate with what was probably Ambrose's lunch left half-finished on the desk.
No, that can't be right. Brennan is certain that someone is interested in keeping Ambrose fed and healthy-- a better meal must be just out of their field of view behind one of the code wheels. As soon as Brennan sees it, he'll conspicuously snudge it so that Ambrose can see it, with a gesture that would horrify him to know resembles one of Tayanna's.
There is, indeed, such a plate just behind one of the code wheel. The contents of the plate smell delicious. Brennan will have to wait until he gets to that side of the desk to nudge it out where Ambrose can see it.
"I came as soon as I received your letter, brother, but I can't stay long. There has been tragedy in Amber, and I am needed there. Daeon, one of Julian's sons and one of my Knights, was killed today."
This news breaks Ambrose's preoccupation with his own business. "I'm sorry to hear that," he says after a moment.
Brennan gives a nod of acknowledgement that lasts just long enough to be a bow of the head. "Thank you." He looks up slightly, and Ambrose can see his eyes glittering under his brows: "If Brand's notes made any mention of Arcadia, the residents therein, or a Dragon, that might be useful," he muses. "I would not be surprised to find that he had researched them as allies."
"If I find any references to them, you will be the first to know," Ambrose assures him.
"But I bring information of Ysabeau and Huon, however scant." He lets a slow, small smile spread across the right half of his lips. "And I bring an invitation from the King, and the means to go to him."
Ambrose's eyes widen, and he nods slowly. "You've been busy on my behalf, brother." The sentence spirals out from the word busy. "I'm very interested in all those things, but I did ask you to visit for a reason. You'll want to read this yourself and double-check my work. I'm confident of the reconstruction, but I would want it in your shoes."
He picks up a sheaf of papers, some of which Brennan recognizes as Brand's writing, and others of which are in his own hand, and passes them to Brennan, gesturing for him to take a seat at the desk their father used.
Brennan nods again and moves around to the other side of the desk. He takes the papers, and nudges the plate of food out from behind the codewheel, palming a pepper for himself in the process.
Ambrose absently does the same as he watches Brennan settle into place.
That business out of the way, he begins by skimming the paper to get both the sense of it and the sense of the methods Ambrose used. If he can detect the areas that Ambrose thinks are questionable (or if he's helpfully labelled them) Brennan will attempt to verify them through some of the alternate means he had been working on back in Amber. Since Brennan is familiar with the source material, and possessed of significant reserves of concentration, he has some hope that the authentication process might go smoothely.
While this is from the same group of papers, it's from a page that Brennan had deciphered the first few glyphs of and discarded as less important than the theory work on some of the other sheets. It's part of some kind of journal, discussing Brand's travels.
If Ambrose has translated it correctly, and it appears that he has based on Brennan's reading--it's relatively straightforward for this kind of work--it refers to Brand's removal of a youth from an orphanage in shadow.
Brand's grandson. Brennan's son.
Ossian.
It's a good thing Brennan is sitting down.
There's a long stretch of mute moments as Brennan sits motionless, turning the glyphs over in his mind's eye, looking for an alternate interpretation. The relational implicatures that Brand often used could be slippery at best... but, no, Ambrose's method for determining which glyphs locked into a sentence was solid, and those implicatures, even chained as Brand had used them, could only fit one way.
That stretches into another patch of silence, as Brennan stares a thousand yards through the paper in his hands, after squeezing all the information out of each sigil, thinking back.
Ultimately, he puts the paper down carefully and smooths it on the desk, and slumps back in the chair. "You did right to bring this to my attention," he says, reflexively speaking in the austere symmetric lattices of divine imperative. "Speak of this with no one."
Ambrose's face is very young and very still, the face of a youth in the presence of a god of unknown temperament. "It shall be as you have spoken," he murmurs, using the submissive tone and phraseology of priest to god.
[Brennan] sighs, runs a hand through his hair, and changes the subject, falling hard out of the divine mode into something merely archaic to Ambrose's young ears. "Ysabeau turns out to be a sister of Julian and Gerard, known with some certainty to be dead. A bit of a wild child, from what I've heard. Huon, an uncle whose parentage I haven't been able to nail down. Probably a reason for that. Rumor is, he killed a brother and was banished from Amber in a way that stuck. It's been long enough that people have assumed he's dead."
Ambrose has relaxed a little with the change in tone, but something in his eyes is still wary. "We have a means to test that supposition now, if Huon will answer."
Brennan considers that, but not for very long. "I think we have enough on our plates at the moment. And I thought the idea was to bring you into the good graces of the Family, not trailing a previously banished murderous uncle that everyone seemed to want to forget about." Pause. "We can do that after you're in good graces...." he adds.
Ambrose nods, as if it's of no importance to him.
"Was there anything else of relevance in what you've managed to decode thus far? Or shall we be off to His Majesty's court?"
"I should put on my shoes first," Ambrose says. If Brennan glances down at Ambrose's feet, he can see that his brother is barefoot, and wiggling his toes for emphasis. He leans over and picks out socks and boots, which he begins to put on.
If the kid knew Brennan was talking about Random, he might not be so concerned about it.
As he puts his shoes on, Ambrose tells Brennan what he's discovered. "Sentences written on spheres, yes, it's all about that kind of thing. The higher math makes some sense to me, but I suspect I'll need not just to obtain but master the family gifts before I can be sure of my translations of the rest. The gist of it is that the sky-city of Tir is--off-center? off-key?--something is wrong with it. If he could force it to the right vibrational frequency, he could restore it. And it took--weakening the fabric of reality--remaking it--to do that. Some details of how." This part clearly disturbs Ambrose. "How he chose," Ambrose elaborates.
"Off harmonic," Brennan suggests for the word Ambrose is looking for. For the moment, he pointedly ignores the notion of how Brand chose. For the moment. Although he is pleased that his epiphany of the higher dimensional glyph structures bore fruit.
He takes a moment to compose himself before continuing. "I think someone advanced in both disciplines is needed to make sense of the metaphysics."
"We should take some time and go through it together; perhaps half and half is enough. At the very least we can flesh out the mathematics. Much of what I wrote was spur of the moment-- code wheels aren't effective in Amber, so I hadn't really given too much thought to their use."
"The equations make sense, and they solve. It's the practical implications of the theory that I don't understand," Ambrose explains.
Brennan stands and faces his brother, drawing out the card of Random, although probably in a way such that Ambrose can't see it. If he makes contact, he announces himself, "Brennan, and a guest seeking audience, Majesty. In private. May we?"
Random takes a moment to accept the contact. He appears to be somewhere in Castle Xanadu. "Sorry, I'm not private now. Are you and your friend in danger? I want to put him off until the memorial if we can. I'm still waiting on my other kingdom to report and in a moment I may not have any time for him, which would be a bad start to avuncular relations."
So would blowing him off, Brennan doesn't say during a distinctly YGBSM pause.
"This brings back the problem of timing and logistics. I expect to be busy," Brennan invests the word with a boxcar's worth of freight, "at that time, serving the Realm as I serve best. And contrary to danger, this is a rare moment when all is at peace here, and it's safe to leave.... for the moment. Further, one of those who would report to you in emergency loaned me the very card in my hands, which I promised to return with all possible speed. You see the dilemmas.
"He understands that there has been a tragedy," Brennan says, flicking his eyes to Ambrose. "What is the appropriate compromise? Passage through with an interview following shortly but not immediately?"
After Brennan hears Random's answers, he looks at Ambrose for his reaction.
Random says, "I'm glad he understands that. Next up is understanding that there's been an attack and there's very conspicuously not been an 'all clear' call, which in part relies on my not being tied up in other trump calls.
"Here's my suggestion. 'Good news! The King has agreed to see you in two days. Can you be ready by then or should I ask him to make it later?' If you can't figure out anything else, take him to a fast-time shadow and get him fitted for a suit. We are in mourning after all."
Ambrose is waiting patiently. His expression suggests that he's decided that discretion is the better part of valor in this case.
Brennan gives an elaborately subdued shrug, saying, "We shall see you at the memorial, then," and lets Random close the contact so that if that wasn't an invitation, he can correct it.
Random does not correct him before closing the contact.
After which, Brennan explains that situation to Ambrose, and suggests that they begin going over Ambrose's translations in more depth, and speak of Chantico, and whatever other concerns he might have.
Brennan tries to split the difference, spending about a day in Uxmal, perhaps a little more; then riding back into Amber on either Bleys' or Fiona's Trump, to minimize the chance of an accidental and premature encounter between Martin and Ambrose. Preferably Bleys', to return the Trump to him.
Bleys contacts Brennan to let him know the details of the memorial some hours later and arrange for Brennan and Ambrose to arrive in time.
In the meantime...
The first order of business for Brennan, at least, are the rest of the translations he's worked through for Brand's papers, which is the real reason they're there, of course.
This is a long discussion that will take hours. The translations come in two parts: a page with the glyphs reconstructed in Uxmali, and then a deconstruction into Thari. The section of the journal page referring to Ossian was small enough that the fair copy of both portions of the translation fit on a single sheet.
The part of the recovered pages that Ambrose has translated is, as he described, primarily a discussion of mathematical equations. There are a lot of musical metaphors, particularly as they relate to the physics of music: harmony as expressed in vibrations, and discordance as expressed in vibrations.
That demands the immediate question: Vibrations of what? In the physics of music, strings or drumheads or reeds vibrate, and in so doing transfer their vibrations to the air, and then to the ear, and then to the mind of the listener. But if this is metaphor, then Brand must be talking about something else with its own modes of vibration and transmission.
Ambrose doesn't understand that either.
It's two days to the Memorial, they have one Sorcerer and one crypto-Sorcerer Pattern Adept. Maybe they'll get lucky. Other things Brennan will be looking for are mentions of Tir, and of anything sounding like the Great Road, along which he suspects some of these vibrations might be travelling. Brennan will not hide his interest in those subjects from his brother.
Brennan's Pattern knowledge is not a real help here, given that his understanding of Pattern is almost all practical and almost no theory. Ambrose's theoretical grasp of the sorcerous theory involved also exceeds Brennan's, since he's had the benefit of an extra decade or so of training that Brennan never got.
Two days isn't going to give them additional insight.
After that, he's sure Ambrose will have concerns of his own to bring up, be they about Brand's work, Chantico, Family gossip, Tayanna, or a multitude of other subjects.
Ambrose asks about Brita.
"Brita was wounded in the same attack as Daeon," he says. "Seriously, but not gravely. Daeon burned to death, and Brita burned herself trying to prevent it. I treated her myself when the wounded came in, and then left her under Gerard's care. She is probably ignoring my medical orders and already up and walking around; I have no doubt she will be at the memorial as well."
"She wouldn't take my medical advice after she fought with Cleph either. I don't think she believes in resting when there's work to be done." There's admiration in Ambrose's tone.
"Then maybe she should stop getting wounded," Brennan mutters.
What news, Tayanna?
She continues much the same.
[Unless Brennan has other important questions, EOT.]
No questions, but he will explain to Ambrose that the King they're going to talk to is Random, not Corwin. This will hopefully prevent hideous misunderstandings and comedies of errors later.
Last modified: 22 August 2005