Aisling, Jovian, Lilly, and Marius kneel and offer homage with the initial
group.  Shortly thereafter Corwin and Merlin join in. The unicorn stays
still, almost unmoving in her perfection, bent on her foreknees before the
new King.

The nobles and soldiers who are near enough to see, rapidly bring
themselves to their knees as well.

Brennan spends a good deal of this time standing stock still, regarding
the Unicorn, with his arms across his chest, his chin high, and an
expression mostly unreadable on his face.  The part that is readable
echoes that which he showed when Random introduced him as a god to
Corwin's troops.

When he comes to himself, he still does not move, but considers.

Finally, he walks to the crowd, positions himself as far from the
Unicorn as possible, and face it not.   He lowers himself to one knee,
takes the blade of the fallen LFG which he had used to kill one of the
fake Chaosi demons, and lays that on the ground.  He ignores the Unicorn
as much as the Unicorn seems to ignore everyone else, and instead focusses
on Random.  His head is not down or bowed, and he looks Random directly in
the eye.

Unless Julian indicates he should, the idea of offering homage just never
occurs to Adonis - gods just don't do that, and no one should do it to
someone they don't know. He continues to observe the Unicorn, hoping
she'll at least glance his way.

Random stares out at the sea of foreheads, some looking him in the eye,
most not.  Brothers, Sisters, some tormentors, some lovers, some friends.
He spends a few moments gathering his new role around him like a cloak. 
"I accept your allegiance," he says, "now get up, all of you."

As everyone rises, the Unicorn turns and bolts.  She races down the slope
and out of sight in a matter of moments.  Many sigh as she departs; it is
an involuntary sound. Adonis is one who sighs but his is of someone who 
has lost something very dear to him, though still still he treasures the 
memories that were. 

Brennan does not.

Corwin and Random discuss the Jewel, the pattern, and the storm.  It takes
no special talents to notice the change in demeanor of King Random.  Or
perhaps it is only a natural reaction to the hope he presents that you all
might just survive.

Random and Corwin go off to one side.

Benedict surveys the remaining family members.  "Those of you with troops,
tell them the time has come.  They will form up to march into the citadel.
We will be there as guests, and will need to mind our manners.  All
commanders back here before we leave for the King's orders."

Before they leave, Benedict has a quiet word with Caine, and then with
Julian.

Marius watches the group disband, paying particular note to Caine.  If
possible, Marius will pull him aside as he leaves Benedict.  He lingers
for this purpose.

Lilly acknowledges her father's command with a bow of her head and then
she is off to retreive her mount. Without hesitation she heads down to her
troops and gives the appropriate orders. Her mind is still reeling with
the strangness of it all and the outcome of this war. Still, now is not
the time for questions, she knew that. Later hse hoped for a quiet word
for her father.

Once her troops are situated and prepared for the march she returns to the
heights to await any additional commands from King Random.

Brennan goes forth and does those things, taking responsibility for
Corwin's Little Furry Guys; Deirdre's assembled forces and nobles;
Random's auxiliary legion; and, since Marius is intent on trying to chat
up Caine and/or Benedict, Marius' irregulars.

Brennan makes a short address to each group to the effect of
Benedict's words.  He throws in some of the inspirational "We came, we
saw, we kicked ass," style of speech that Benedict was mentioning before
the Moonriders showed up, too.

He then makes a separate and longer address to the combined (and in
some cases, newly field promoted) sub-officer corps of the men
assembled under him, going over the ideas of good conduct and officer
responsibility for their men in pointed detail.

He finally reports back to Benedict, unless there is some problem.

Jovian nods to Benedict in acknowledgment, turns and walks only a few
steps away from the general milling about. Anyone paying attention will
note in him a middle-distance stare that is akin to, but not quite the
same as that of one in Trump contact. Now and then his lips move slightly,
or he gives the barest shadow of a nod. 

Those who know something of the ways of dragons will recognize that he is
conversing with Canareth, and through his link, the other dragons waiting
on the heights to the south. Conveying instructions and some few words of
congratulation, most likely.

Aisling collects her dagger and replaces it in her belt.  She remains,
watching the tableux, listening to Random and Corwin.  When things begin
to break up, she looks to Marius and determines he will not be wanting
medical attention; glances after Random and gives the idea of talking to
him up for the moment; and then once more looks to the sky.  When Benedict
is done speaking with Caine and Julian she steps over and quietly informs
him, "I must go to see what has become of my affine, whom I left at battle
in the sky," she waves up to where it was.

Then, if Jovian is still around at this point, she approaches him.  "I am
sorry for your loss today," she says simply.  Her traces of sadness are
sympathy; her traces of strain her own.

He tilts his head slightly and holds up a hand for just a moment, then
with a final nod comes back to the here-and-now. He looks at her as if
seeing her for the first time - and this time she will no doubt notice the
look of curious appreciation, as of an unorthodox but beautiful work of
art. It does little, however, to leaven the fifteen years (by shadow human
reckoning) of aging this day has written in his face.

"Thank you," he says after the pause. "I hardly expect some of these
people to understand, with their attitudes about 'shadows'...it helps to
know you do." His hand rises for a moment to her shoulder with a light
squeeze - her off shoulder, the one above an intact hand.

Aisling's intact hand comes up to momentarily cover his, and then she
brings the hands down in a kind of supportive clasp before letting go.

"I suppose congratulations are in order on your new...." He trails off, 
gesturing skyward and groping for the right word.

"Affine?" she fills in with a smile of pride, then sobers.  "I hope
congratulations are in order.  I feel it incumbent on me to see how she
fares, for I had expected her back before now and she may not have the
sense to come in out of the rain...  It occurred to me to ask if you
wished to send a few of your men along with me to help determine the
situation in the sky."  Aisling glances downwards, sort of towards her
hand.

Jovian nods with a wan half-smile warmed with sympathy and 
perhaps something more. "Briefly; it will very shortly be unsuitable
flying weather. Is that going to hinder you from maintaining a
flightworthy form?" he asks, gesturing to the bandaged appendage.

Aisling shakes her head.  "The main trouble is energy."  Sparing a glance
for the field, she speaks, "I will meet your men above their perch,
there," she points.  "I hope to make this a very quick reconnaissance and
retrieval mission, and to return to these heights in time for the meeting
of commanders."  She cocks an eyebrow at him, and if he has nothing more
of significance to add, she will bow in thanks and leave.

"As you wish, Lady," Jovian responds, bowing from the neck 
(rather a different thing than nodding) with a warming smile. He 
gets the middle distance stare again as Aisling turns away, and 
presently a queen and three bronzes launch from the dragonriders' 
promontory to meet the Fledgling in the air.

It is good that it is four of the largest dragons, because it would be
extremely dangerous to let less strong dragons try.  They struggle for
altitude, but cannot truly get above the storn.  Keeping station is almost
as wearying as riding a full 6 hour fall.

Without asking his father, knowing he'll be concerned with the troops,
Adonis rounds up the dogs and his horse but before Jovian leaves for his
dragons, he'll make a point of thanking him for his intervention by the
Abyss. "You're right! It's up to her to choose the time and place."

"And up to you not to fall into the Abyss, bror. Whatever your Purpose In
Life may be, if you're still warm, you're not finished with it yet." The
tone is chiding, but there's a smile in there somewhere.

Adonis nods ruefully in reply, keeping his head down, abashed. "I don't
know what came over me." He rubs his chest firmly as if nursing some mild
strain. "I'm sure we all have our faults and I admit mine is in
occasionally letting my heart rule my head but what can I say? I was
overwhelmed! It is a good thing you were there!"

"Don't obsess over it. It's understood - I think that was a pretty 
potent experience for all of us." The smile is bittersweet but sincere.

"Potent!...Yes!...Good word!" Adonis seems to be thinking of something
 else. Then he stops massaging his breastbone and changes the subject.
 "Your dragons - are they going into That Place with us? It must shortly
 get a little difficult here for such creatures."

"It's looking a little difficult for creatures of any sort," Jovian nods,
squinting at the storm front. "Yes, the dragons will be going into the
Citadel. At least, they'd better be. If our 'hosts' don't want to let them
in, there's going to be an Incident."

Adonis squints at the 'fixed place', imagining dragons flying between its
spires and pillars.

"We obviously don't have time now, but sometime *soon*, I would like to
ride your...Canareth? I feel a strange affinity for them - they're
so...*powerfully* symbolic."

You watch as Aisling joins the flight and see them pause, the four dragons
circling above Aisling.  The Affine must be there.

Julian rides up, mounted on Morgenstern.  He looks at Adonis, and then
Jovian.  "What's that flight?  Aren't they awfully close to the storm?"

Adonis salutes Julian, mounted and ready to follow his father. In reply he
sort of shrugs and nods simultaneously.

Brennan makes a short address to each group to the effect of
Benedict's words.  He throws in some of the inspirational "We came, we
saw, we kicked ass," style of speech that Benedict was mentioning before
the Moonriders showed up, too.

[Marius' first, as per your directions.]

The men stand and listen giving you the respect given to a visiting
dignitary.  They seem to be rather unemotional.  Their officers spur them
to cheer at appropriate places, and encourage those who do not do so with
'enthusias' to be more vocal.

Brennan will take note of this and pitch the speech to whatever level of
enthusiasm the men seem willing to give.  Giving a rousing speech to a
stony silence is bad form.

He then makes a separate and longer address to the combined (and in
some cases, newly field promoted) sub-officer corps of the men
assembled under him, going over the ideas of good conduct and officer
responsibility for their men in pointed detail.

The officers have exactly two questions
1: Is there any truth to the rumor that Commodore Marius is dead?
2: Is there any truth to the rumor that Prince Caine is alive?

Other than that, the officers will listen to any speech you give with
polite attention.  It is not warm or welcoming, but it is polite.

Addressing Marius' men in a parade voice, so he can be heard:

"Men of Amber!  I have told you of Oberon's death, and Random's
accession to the throne of Amber.  Your officers have asked questions
about some of the rumors flowing down.  You have the right to know truth
from fiction, so let me slice through the rumors here and now!

"Your officers have asked if Marius is dead.  I say that I saw him
moments ago, in conference."  He pauses for the cheers he expects to
hear.  "He was wounded in the battle, but is in no mortal peril from his
wounds.

"Your officers have asked if Prince Caine is alive.  I say that I spoke to
him moments ago."  He pauses for the even louder cheers he expects to
hear.  "Your Admiral is alive!  It was Prince Caine who slew Brand!

"However, it is with sorrow that I report that the Princess Deirdre
has been slain as well."  Here, he pauses for the silence which ought
rightfully to occur.  "We have fought, and we have won, but the price has
been steep.  Now, make ready for a place of saftey, and make ready to make
Marius and Prince Caine proud once more."

As you approach Deirdre's noble men-at-arms, you see that they are
gathered around Caine, who must have arrived while you were dealing with
the sailors.  Caine catches your eye and smiles.  There are many people
who would find that very concept disturbing.

You see no sign of Marius.

Brennan is not disturbed by the smile.  In fact, he returns it, and
offers his hand in greeting.  Speaking in a voice pitched low for Caine,
he says, "I'm here to get 'em ready to follow Benedict's orders.  Do they
know about Deirdre?"

Caine answers sotto voce.  "Yes, I'm giving them their orders now.  Let me
introduce you so that they will listen to you.  Some of this lot won't
listen to anyone whose grandfather didn't crap in a gilded chamberpot."

He turns to the armored nobles and addresses them in a voice that has
carried across many a ship's deck.

"My Lords and Noble fighting men of Amber.  This is Lord Brennan of Amber,
my Nephew and a proven commander on this field of battle.  He is a
grandson of the late King and the heir to Prince Brand.  You may treat his
orders as if they come from me."

There is some muttering in the crowd, as if they are excited and coolly
calculating at once.  It occurs to you that a single fire-blast spell on
this site could eliminate a full half of the noblity of Amber.

Lilly returns to the heights first and finds her father speaking with the
King.  He indicates that she should join them.

For many years her foster mother tried, sometimes in vain, to teach Lilly
to be a proper lady. It was this knowledge she called upon now in the
presence of the newly appointed king. The fighting was over, her sword
sheathed, and with that she slipped subtley into the role of noble woman,
bowing before the king as she joined them.

"Lilly, the king will be staying here while we attend the state funeral.
How we, and our troops, behave will be noted.  You know that you and your
fought well.  Now we will have to not fight our enemies in order to
achieve victory. Lilly..." he pauses, "you have done well."

If Random notes a certain awkwardness in Benedict's compliment, he does
not mention it.

With a slight nod of her head, Lilly responds, "Thank you Father." There
is a soft blush to her cheeks. Still the underlying pride can not be
denied. "I hope to contiue to serve the family well."

Outwardly, Lilly is the picture of calm. Inwardly she is concerned about
not quite knowing the proper etiquette for this place. Above all else she
does not want to disappoint her father. With that thought she asks one
more thng of her father, "Is there anything I need to know concerning the
proper customs of this place before we enter? I do not wish to make a
breech of etiquette under circumstances such as these."

Aisling goes back to the place where she changed from lionish to humanish 
form -- where she left the sword, where she's not vastly visible.  There she
kind of tucks her head down, takes a deep breath, and takes her time about
changing into the golden statue form (which she used earlier as a
demonstration for the gold dragons).  Hawk head, Nouveau lines, air of an
old god.  She tilts her head, looks at her hand with one eye; it looks as
if a chunk of it got broken off.  There are inlaid red-golden stitches
down the middle of the region, forming towards the end of their run the
initials "B.B.".  She gazes coldly out across the field to where Brennan
is...  And then the corners of her mouth turn up and she looks down and
catches up the sword, fastening the belt around her waist with a bit of
difficulty and then launching into the air without a look back.

She meets some dragons above the promontory where they rested, and with
them circles up into the sky to where she last saw her affine, gaining
altitude quicker than it seemed the lionish thing could.  She is not
inclined to talk.  If Cloudeater is not visible around the area they left
it, Aisling will command it to appear before her in an uncomfortably
carrying mental tone.

Aisling's keen senses soon detect her Affine and it comes to a stop near
her, about 35 degress off the plane of the ground.  "Lord, I serve you
well.  The enemy cloud thing was not able to harm you.  I will need aid to
defeat it, though.  It is mighty yet."

//You serve me well, Cloudeater,// Aisling affirms, in a resonant and
unsettling mental tone.

You are shielded from the rain by the mass of the dragons, but the wind
whips fiercly and it is clear that there is something different and
dreadful that happens at the point where the rain becomes a black curtain.
That curtain moves towards you.

"Lord, I do not yet wish to end myself.  I am happy with being an entity.
I fear for your safety up here."

The giant figure stops talking and everyone: dragons, riders, Aisling, and
her Affine find themselves suddenly beneath something that blocks the sky
and stops the rain.  As you look up, the blast of it's voice announces
that the Giant Dracoform has re-formed above you, and is diving at you.

//Take it, Cloudeater,// Aisling orders.  //Scatter in pairs and then
assist her if you can, you dragons.//  She will get clear of the charge
with one of the pairs, and then watch to get knowledge about the
capabilities of this newest incarnation of the enemy, which she has not
seen before...  Particularly its speed and maneuverability.

Cloudeater roars defiance at the monster, a creature so vast that is
shields you all from the rain, and he leaps at it, uncaring that it dwarfs
him a hundredfold.

//Sting it and then dash away!// Aisling sends to her affine.  //I need to
see how well this can move.//

All the dragons, grounded and in in the air, roar and you see riders
running, grabbing sacks and flamethrowers.  They are well trained to
launch in a crisis.  In moments the air will be full of mounted dragons,
ready to fight.

On the heights above the Abyss, Canerath roars with them and his eyes
swirl with agitation as he looks at J'rim.  He wishes to join his
weyrmates.

J'rim is silent, but his face is etched in lines of fury.

//Call them off, Canareth!// he orders with every ounce of will. //NO ONE
engages that thing! Get Hoshith working with you, I want EVERYONE back to
the ridge TEN MINUTES AGO!//

//Oh, shit,// he adds as an afterthought. //I DON'T mean that 
literally. No going between and especially no timing it!//

A hand comes down on Jovian's shoulder. Still locked in concentration, 
wrestling down Canareth's emotions, J'rim doesn't even look at the 
hand's owner - he just smacks it away. Hard.

J'rim shakes free of his father's hand and his blow lands firmly on his
father's thigh, towards the bottom of his long white shirt of mail. The
blow is true, but doesn't seem to faze Julian. Jovian may wish later that
he hadn't smashed the back of his hand into his father's armor, though.

"Call them back. The wings will be slaughtered in this."  Julian looks
into Jovian's eyes, as if trying to drag him back from the dragons'
desires by sheer force of will.  His tone is calm and his manner is easy,
but there is considerable pressure where he holds Jovian's shoulder.

"Shut UP will you! I'm trying to HOLD BACK thirty-two raging 
dragons and you're INTERRUPTING!"

Unseen by Jovian, but not by Adonis, Julian simply arches an eyebrow.

Despite the gravity of the situation, Adonis can't help a mischievous grin
at this exchange.

He's right, of course.  The best tactic is to bring the wings over the
heights and have the others lead the creature to you.  That will at least
even the odds, and maybe you can get other support.

Julian's voice is louder now, to be heard over the storm.  "Daeon!  Advise
the King that we have men in danger in the air."  He takes a breath.  "My
brother the King now has my father's mantle and power.  You will show him
proper respect."

Adonis is suddenly alert, giving no trace of his usual iritation when his
father gets his name wrong. "Assuredly, Pater! Do I not always show 
respect to kings?"

Without looking to see if the stormhounds follow, he rides at the best
speed suitable to the terrain. He seems to steer his mount mainly by
whispering in its ears. When he's suitably close he'll acknowledge 
Benedict and Lilly with a smile before addressing Random in a formal air.

Benedict holds his thought to Lilly and pays attention to his nephew, as
does Random.

"Prince Julian's compliments, your Majesty - he advises that we have men
in the air in some danger. My brother is attempting recall as we speak.
May I know your wishes?"

Random looks where Adonis points, taking a second to gauge the scale of
the creature.  "Thank the Prince for his vigilance and your brother for
his quick action.  I have an idea..."

Benedict looks at him, somehow conveying a question not only without words
but without movement.  It is an economy of communication some would find
admirable.  "I need to test it anyway, Benedict."

Benedict replies, after a moment of consideration, "it would be good for
morale.  Lilly, we should leave the King to his task."

A look of concern and confusion crosses Lilly's face but she asks no
questions. She trusted her father and his judgment. "Yes. Of course
Father. Fare well your Majesty." With that she begins her retreat.

Even as she moves she tries to observe as much of the scene as possible.
Curiosity was indeed getting the better of her. She wondered what it was
that the king was going to do. Perhaps the jewel the Unicorn had delivered
unto him had some sort of magical powers. No matter what she knew there
was little she could do right now with her feet firmly planted on the
ground. Better now to watch and assess.

Choosing to take this as a dismissal, other things being on the King's
mind, Adonis wheels his horse and gallops back to Julian.

"His Majesty offers his thanks for your vigilance, Pater, and to you,
brother, for your incisiveness. I believe he is to experiment with his
Royal Prerogative."

The dragons peel off in pairs, flying evasive paths that twist and cross
and prevent the dracoform from following directly.  They are four odes to
the beauty of lethal reptilian grace, and watching the great dragons in
flight is a moving experience.

Like a toreador performing in the ring, Cloudeater lets the dracoform pass
closely by and then attacks it from the flank.  Aisling observes the
battle and can see that there would be much danger in attacking the
dracoform head on, but that it is not dangerous to a fast, maneuverable
foe who doesn't get unlucky.  But you would only have to get unlucky once.

The dragons make one pass at it, coming in from different directions, each
a seperate threat.  Only Hosith scores, raking her talons along the
beast's back.  She rips half of a wyvern free and it falls.  It is clear
to all nearby that there is great danger if the form reverts to the
component wyverns.

Aisling is highly tempted to join, but stays back and watches the thing's
reaction to simultaneous attacks from different types of creatures.

From the ledge you see the wings of dragons rising, all the survivors are
soon airborne.  They fight for altitude and move in three wings over the
decamping army of Amber.   It is hard to imagine that they are not poised
to fight.   They hold their ground, though, and their mission to protect
the ground forces overcomes their urges to attack.  The dragons manifest
an almost palpable air of anger.

The four dragons change tactics as their brothers and sisters reach 
station.  The golden one flies near to Aisling and Kourin shouts out "Fall
Back!  Orders!"  [Assuming she acknowledges in some way]  The dragons fly
back, using their greater speed and lift to get above and away from the
dracoform beast.

Cloudeater has continued to fight it and is in fact closing for another
glancing attack.

Aisling's eyes flash, and she screams out to Cloudeater, //Fall back!
Towards the Abyss!//

//Yes, Lord!// replies Cloudeater.  The giant begins pulling back, keeping
itself between the Dracoform and Aisling whenever possible.

Then she propels herself down to Hosith and lands, pouncing, straddling
her neck-- somewhere not incredibly distracting to flight, but hopefully
where she can speak to Kourin eye-to-eye, without having to devote most of
her energy to dodging around the dragon and yelling.  On the other hand,
she's erring on the side of sliding off rather than hurting Hosith with
her talons or, god forbid, the unsheathed sword in her good hand.  Anyway,
whereever she ends up, her goal is to get a plan quick, so she speaks.
//My apologies to Hosith.  Is the king going to be able to destroy this
thing with the Jewel?  Otherwise we better lure it out over the Abyss and
attack it now, before it gets above the army.//  Her "bag of broken glass
and iron" mental voice no doubt makes this situation even less enjoyable
for poor Kourin.  Soaked, angry, on the run, sharing what was previously
solitary space with an inhuman carnivore demanding to use her as a
walkie-talkie...  Hopefully she's too busy to notice.

"I don't know!  J'rim and Canerath are too busy keeping the wings from
attacking to tell me what the plan is.  Whatever it is, I hope it works,
because the dragons won't hold back forever.  Hang on, we've got to move!"
Hosith executes a turn so tight that you wonder how she keeps her wings
from ripping off or how she keeps Kourin from passing out.

Aisling does her best to hang on, but lacking the use of all her grasping
bits and not wishing to dig claws into the dragon, she ends up being
thrown off due to the vast centrifugal force.  Looking nettled, she
follows a simple parabolic path through the air until she's clear of the
wings of the dragon, and then spreads her own wings in a <phloomp!> and
takes off after them, flying with all her might and skill...  Catching the
airsteam behind Hosith so she can get sucked along like a trailing goose
in a "V".

Caine turns back to Brennan.  "They're all yours.  Want me to stick around
or can you handle them?"

Continuing in the same undertone, "I think I can handle it.  Where the
hell is Marius, anyway?  I just came from his men, and they thought he was
dead.  Had to try and get them ready to move, too."  He gives a look at
the naval officers who should be clustered a respectful distance back,
while Brennan and Caine confer.  "Actually, they were asking after you,
too.  Told 'em you were alive."

He takes a glance at the aerial battle going on. 

"Think they're going to try and drive it into the Abyss?"

Caine follows Brennan's gaze. "Maybe. Random's a wily little bastard. If
he can't pull something out, I'll be surprised."

Brennan shrugs, and assumes the matter is well in hand.
It's not like there's anything he could reasonably do about it from
here anyway.

Cajne turns back to Brennan. "Marius -- he collapsed again. Brand got him
worse than we originally thought." A glance at the naval officers. "You
get Deirdre's men moving and your own; I'll deal with the Navy. The Navy
requires a firm hand sometimes."

Brennan has a hard time not rolling his eyes.  "And I was sitting
right there with a medical kit offering treatment, yet. Well, the Navy
thinks he's still up and walking around, which he was, the last time I saw
him."

At Caine's offer to take the navy in hand, Brennan shrugs.  One way or
another, they're going to do what he told them to do.  "Kick 'em in the
ass if they're not moving fast enough."

"I'll go make an appearance, but if they've got their orders, they've got
their orders.  We want to get back topside.   You can lay it on thick with
this lot about the glory of fighting and dying for Amber, but watch that
with some of the smarter and less noble troops..."

Caine mounts and rides back to the sailors.  There are excited noises
coming from that direction and, disturbingly, from the dragons who are
launching into the sky.

To Deirdre's group of nobles, Brennan leads off with a reconfirmation of
Deirdre's death, and a respectful silent pause.  He'll then recap the
other important news-- Random has acceded to the Throne (hence Brennan's
presence as his second), Brand has been killed, and Corwin has arrived.  A
great battle has been fought and won, etc, etc, yadda yadda yadda, but the
danger is not over, so form up under these officers while I gather these
others and let them know what's expected of them.

To Corwin's Little Furry guys, he leads off with confirmation that
Corwin has returned and was, at last sighting, up on the heights.
Also, Random, the God of Luck, has acceded to the Throne, and Brand,
the Prince of Evil has been cast down and killed, taking Princess
Deirdre with him to the cold black grave.  A great battle has been
fought and won, etc, etc, the gods called in their time of need and
the Little Furry Guys answered that call with distinction, yadda yadda
yadd, but the danger is not over, so get ready to head for safety while I
tell some of your officers what's expected.

To Random's men, he leads off with confirmation that Random had
acceeded to the Throne and is waiting on the heights (hence Brennan's
presence as his second-- some of them should remember him from when they
were sent as reinforcements, and it was that group that Brennan would have
thought of first when handing out brevet promotions, anyway.) Also, Corwin
is returned and was safe with Random the last Brennan saw them.  Brand has
been killed, and Deirdre has been an unfortunate casualty.  These are the
men that Brennan expects to be the most down to earth and practical, and
he treats them as such.  No bullshit. They, too, are told to form up and
get ready to move.

Note that as Random moves from group to group, his collection of
trailing officers should be growing.  I figure if he grabbed two or
three from each group, he should have a cluster of about ten or so
from behind him.  (And if the GMs feel it's appropriate, maybe some of
them should be worked out as NPCs.  For the record, if there are women
fighting in the ranks, Brennan selects them for promotion, too, if they're
capable.  Brennan favors intelligence, level-headedness, quick -thinking,
and a certain degree of measured audacity.)

While he's traipsing around and they're following, and even when he's
addressing each group of fighters, Brennan is keeping on eye on the
interactions between the various officers.  That's half the reason he did
it this way to begin with-- he'd like to gauge which group, if any, are
likely to cause problems, since it sounds like fighting amongst ourrselves
is going to be as deadly and dangerous as fighting anything else.

For some moments it is a stalemate, with the Dracoform rising along with
the dragons.  Eventually you all are above the beast and Random has an
unobstructed view of it.

From the ground, it is as a bird chasing moths.  The distance and the
perspective distorts in chaos and 500 feet of constructed wyvern is almost
tiny.  The chief indicator of distance is the silence as the flyers and
the ground troops watch the chase in the noiseless rain.  The flyers seem
painted on the ever-changing, ever-drifting striped skyline.

The red bolt, angry and urgent and loud, shatters the tableaux.  It
crashes into the black beast and throws it, head over tail, tumbling
through the air for half a mile or more.  It rights itself and cries out
in rage and defiance.  It seems unhurt.  A second bolt hits it and drives
it back further.  Another follows quickly and the beast is thrown into the
leading edge of the true black rain.  The scream out of the great
dracoform's maw is inhumanly piercing and desperate.

Aisling looks back as the light of the first bolt flashes past her.  She
turns in the sky, ceasing to follow the dragons so she can see what
happens to the uberdragon.  She hangs there, watching implacably.  At the
dracoform's scream, her look becomes dreadful.

You see, as if with a telescope lens, the creature slide and fall away
from the black rain.  Fully a third of it has been dissolved, including
the tail and one of the back legs.  The creature tries to fly, unbalanced,
and only manages to stop it's plummet when the final bolt hits it, driving
it through the curtain and fully into the black rain.  You cannot even see
a silhouette after it enters.  It is as if the beast had never been.

The blasts from the Random and the Jewel disrupt Jovian's concentration to 
some degree, though he maintains his strong contact with Canareth. Somewhere 
in the back of his mind he is confident that this sight will stay the talons of the 
most enraged of his comrades. 

After the obligatory moment of stunned silence: //Make a note, Canareth. That is
why you do not piss off the King of Amber. Tell the wings - regroup on the ridge, 
prepare to move out for the Citadel. On their best Conclave behavior. They really 
do not want to get thrown out.// 

Silence returns to the former battlefield as the black curtain of rain
resumes a slow advance on the heights and the place where the black road
departs for the Nighted Citadel.  Bleys, Fiona, and Caine are returning
from the ground troops to the meeting place on the heights.  Brennan has
finished his addresses to the troops and can go when he is ready.

On the heights.  Julian dismounts from Morgenstern and looks at his sons.
He suggests that they not keep his majesty waiting. Adonis calls the dogs 
to heel and moves Epona alongside Morgernstern.

Jovian's eyes return to focus on his father, and as an afterthought he 
shakes out his stinging right hand where a bruise is developing. "No, of
course not," he agrees, a little distracted, and follows the lead.

"Please don't let that bother you, Dad," he adds, sotto voce. "Imposing on
Canareth is one thing. Compelling him to impose upon the others, after all
that's happened today...." He shakes his head wearily. If Adonis overhears 
there interchange, he gives no sign for the nonce.

The sher astonishment Lilly feels barely registers on her features. While 
her mind races with thoughts of the power that single jewel must hold, she 
stand tall, barely moving, her eyes simply watching the place where the 
Dragon disappeared. Two things make themselves perfectly clear. The first, 
remember to always treat the king with utmost respect. The second, now is 
the time to go indoors and hope that the black rain does not wash them all 
away. The time for fighting is over.

I'm sure that everyone paused to swatch that spectacle, even Brennan. Ever
rising to the occasion, he finishes his speech with, "And remember what I
said about No! Violence!  Not to anyone, not amongst ourselves, not
amongst strangers.  Or THAT--" he jerks his thumb to the now non-existent
dracoform, "might be one of the consequences. Make sure, on your lives,
that is understood and enforced."

He gives that just about three quarters of a second to sink in, just
to see if anybody is stupid enough not to take him seriously.
Assuming no one wants to be executed on the spot, at the end of that
interval, he breaks the silence.

"Move!  Move!  Move!"

He busies himself riding up and down the column that should have
self-assembled under the other half of the officer corps, overseeing
the movement of men.

Aisling cannot look sad in this form, or sick, or tired.  So she merely
states to Cloudeater, //We will return to the ground and hear King Random
speak.//  Then she drops from the sky, not bothering to spread her wings
except to impart the slightest directionality until she is almost at the
bottom of the air, where she opens them to bleed off speed and flares for
a perfect landing somewhere a relative distance away from the family.  She
plants the sword in the ground and shucks off the sheath, looking more
whole without it.  She changes back to humanish form.  She's well beyond
drawn and into beat by now.

Cloudeater lands, hard.  It has some trouble walking, as if unfamiliar
with the ground.

She turns to Cloudeater and summons a smile of encompassing, eternal
warmth for her.  She would hug her, but it's not a thing Chaosites do, so
she uses words.  "You have done very well, my affine," she says strongly. 
"I am proud of you.  I am proud of your fighting ability, and your
maneuverability in the air, and your courage.  Are you well in all of your
parts?"

"I am, my Lord, " it trails off, as if taking an internal inventory.  
It's features become more feminine as it determines that you think of it
as her. "Unhurt, if not the being I once was.  I was diminished in the
battle."  As she stands next to you, she looks merely tall, rather than
gigantic.  Her form is humanoid, but she is clearly still learning how to
use it.  It is as if she has to remember that she has eyes.

"Rest you then here, for well you deserve it.  Listen to King Random's
speech, if you so choose.  I will return to you after."  Aisling gives her
a final flashing smile, and turns and heads towards the group of family.
She picks up the sword and belt on the way, sheathing the sword and
clasping the belt around her wait with a remarkable degree of grace
considering she's doing it with one hand and a bandaged arm.  Her
expression is vague with fatigue.  She comes to a stop towards the outer
edges of the group again, with her left hand loosely clasping her right
arm over the cloak which covers it completely.

Canareth speaks to his rider //Hoshith and Kourin  want to know how long
it will be until we depart.  They would rather keep the wings aloft if it
is going to be brief.//  Canareth snorts and continues.  //Maranth says it
was like flying around Fyarth when he was a weyrling.//

//Maranth and his rider have matching attitude problems,// J'rim responds
warmly; in his weariness he forgets to school his expression and smiles
visibly. //The impression I get of my uncle the new Lord Holder is that
he's a man of few and unpretentious words. I doubt we have long to wait.//

The rage of all the dragons is inexplicably less than you would have
expected it to be.

Julian makes a noncommittal noise and a definite gesture to his sons to
precede him. Jovian's brow arches slightly, looking a question that doesn't 
demand an immediate answer before he takes the lead.

Ready and waiting, Adonis leads Epona onward to the left of Jovian but
slightly back so he can keep an eye on his father. Midway through the walk
over, Adonis reaches out to briefly squeeze Julian's shoulder. His smile
is concerned but hopefully cheering.

Then the Juliani join the throng. Epona occasionally snuffles in Adonis'
ear; he does not snuffle back.

Eventually, all are gathered around Random, who looks at Benedict.  The
slightest of nods can be seen.

Random climbs on a rock, overlooking the assemblage.  He doesn't seem
taller, or more athletic, but there is a difference.  Perhaps it is the
time he takes to gauge his audience, perhaps it is something in his gaze.
Or perhaps it is how his brothers and sisters look upon him.  His voice is
low but clear.

For most of the speech, good though it is, an alert observer gets the
impression that Adonis' attention is divided - and for once it's not with
women.

"We came here a desperate aggregation of little armies.  We knew not the
terrain upon which we would fight nor the nature of our enemy.  We knew
not if we how we could win nor if we could survive the winning.

"We faced those who thought that we were weak because we were divided.
Those who thought they could attack us from within.  Those who hoped we
would defeat ourselves.  Those who would undo all that we are and who
would threaten Amber's very existence."

This registers, and the corners of Aisling's mouth turn up, becoming a look of
suppressed mirth, or black humor. 

"All they did was raise our considerable anger.  We came here, to the
heart of the enemy's assault on us, and we made it clear that there was a
price to pay for arousing us.

"In this place, on this day, we lost much, but we gained more.  On this
ground and in the air many sacrificed themselves.  Those who fought and
died for their homes died no less nobly than those who fought for
principles or loyalty or love.   People fought and died, trusting that we
were doing good and that we would prevail.  Red people as well Amber tars.
Calvary and infantry and rangers and dragons." Jovian's face is drawn at 
these thoughts - his jaw muscles working, his eyes shining and tight at the 
corners.

"There will always be memory of this place, this day, this new birth as
long as any of us shall live.  We stood witness to the end of everything
we had ever known and by our actions, changed the world.  No other men and
women will ever again be as free as we were in this place."

"Today will always be a day of contradictions, we won glory and saved the
kingdom, but at a cost we cannot yet understand.   It is for the honored
dead that we must be proud of our victory here.  This ground was
sanctified by their sacrifice before it was touched by the hooves of The
Unicorn.  My father is dead, so is my sister.  Many people lost fathers
and sisters and brothers and sons.  We will not forget."

Adonis wets his lips at the mention of the Unicorn and almost inaudibly
sighs, but the word 'sister' breaks his reverie and he suddenly eyes
Random with undivided attention, as if really seeing him for the first
time.

"We shall depart this place soon, leaving our foes to count the bitter
cost of their defeat. No matter what happens to this place, there will
always have been a place where the forces of Amber reached into the heart
of Chaos and stood against the storm."

This bit also seems to strike Aisling, as she moves from a blank look to a
thoughtful and vaguely acknowledging look.

The last word is punctuated by a peal of thunder.  If you all think it was
overdone, the impression on the other nobles is definite.

A slight twist at the corner of Jovian's mouth is the only outward
reaction to the theatrics, but the cynicism doesn't entirely spoil the
spirit of the thing. His neck is a little straighter, his eyes a little
clearer than they were a few minutes before.

Adonis does not start or flinch. He may not have been expecting it but it
is fitting; deity also requires theatre. He nods approvingly.

Aisling weathers this bout of cheering as she has weathered all the
others...  Patient, waiting.  She might as well be carved out of stone.

"Begin moving the troops along the road.  The storm will be kept at bay
until we are all at the citadel.  Commanders are instructed to consider
who in their command should be rewarded for his, her, or it's performance.
Prince Bleys will give you further instructions as you are moving."

At this Jovian's brow furrows, the line of his mouth hardening in
consternation. He glances from Bleys to Canareth, to the circling wings of
dragons and back to Bleys again before returning to Random.

"Bleys, please lead our troops to that Castle.  Our darling sister should
have prepared the way.  If the rest of my kin would remain for a moment, I
have further business with you."

Bleys salutes and rides down the hill with all of the assembled notables.

The dragonrider casts another glance over his shoulder at the retreating
back of the redhead prince, brushing back his own shock of spiky brown
with an impatient hand. (The effect of this on his sweat-soaked hair is to
make it look even more disheveled, but he seems not to notice.) As the
crowd before Random's rock thins, he moves closer.

Adonis moves to follow Bleys as if dismissed with the rest, then he seems
to realise his father and brother remain and returns to his father's side
with an 'actually, I always intended to stay' air.

For the sake of the Official Record, Brennan (who had looked as though he
was going to shepherd his column through to the Castle himself) sticks
around.  Whichever of Lilly or Caine he sees first, that person will
Brennan stand next to.  (Otherwise, he'll just be front and center, as is
his way.)

The notables leave, and Aisling looks after them, considering following.
Then she looks at Benedict for about an equal length of time, then looks
down while she thinks stuff out.  She raises her eyebrows at some ironic
internal comment, and moves forward in acknowledgement of the thinner
crowd of family.

Random reconvenes with a much smaller circle.

"Gawd I hate doing that!    But if you don't give 'em a victory speech
they won't know they won.  Anyone got a smoke?"

After the ritual of lighting up and taking the first puff is completed,
Random continues.

Those who are watching him closely might notice Jovian's nose wrinkle
slightly, but considering his leathers still reek of phosphine, he's not
one to fuss.

"Adonis, Jovian, Aisling, Lilly, Brennan.  My brothers and sisters I can
deal with.  We've had a few centuries to work things out between us,
although I am now finding out that apparently I am the only one who can't
keep a secret."

Both Caine and Llewella grin slightly when Random says this.

"In some ways it is difficult to reward you.  That you are hereditary
nobility is inherent in what you can already do with the monster in the
basement.  So, after consulting with your fathers and uncles, I have
decided to make a new order of knighthood, and that you five and your
cousin Marius will be the first inductees. We'll work out the details
later, but you'll run the show, or find someone to run the show for you.

Aisling's look is precisely that of a deer caught in the headlights.

"Anyway, the point of this little exercise is to give you all the right to
knight your troops as necessary, so that it comes from you."  The
perceptive amongst you might decide that that may not even be the most
important of King Random's goals.  There certainly other possibilities.

Much of this, Brennan takes with his customary stoicism, ut by the end of
this part of the speech, he's at least got his right eyebrow raised a bit.
Jovian nods thoughtfully, consideration faintly creasing his brow.
Lilly nods slightly, a look of understanding present in her features.
There was most definitely no turning back now. She was a member of the
royal family of Amber after all. As to wether that was entirely a good
thing, she was still unsure. No matter what though, she would work to make
her father proud.

"Brennan, step forth...kneel.   For valor in single combat with a giant
blue demon that would have made most men wet themselves, for leadership
with strange troops and for providing material aid to the end of the
battle, I dub thee Sir Brennan, Knight Commander of the order of
the...order of the..."

Brennan does, in fact, step forth, and does, in fact, kneel.
It is a similar posture to that which he had adopted some time
before-- his left knee and left fist touch the ground, while his right
hand rests on the hilt of his blade.

As Random fishes for the title of the order, Brennan looks up at him
with a perfectly guileless expression of patience and serenity.

Random looks up, hoping for help.   His brothers seem uninterested in his
plight.  A smile crosses his face.  "the order of the Ruby.  Arise, Sir
Brennan.  There, that wasn't so bad, now was it?"  Random adds, as he
embraces you, "Caine had me add that last one.  Perhaps when we're more
private, you can tell me why."

A half-smile quirks on the dragonrider's face at Random's hesitation, but
fades as he stares for a long, more deeply thoughtful moment at the
sizeable red stone faintly glowing over the king's heart.

Aisling, distracted, nods a bit at the name of the Order, and then turns faintly 
paler when it sinks in.

After he rises, he has an expression almost of bemusement, and shrugs as
partial reply.  But he says, "I serve at the pleasure of Amber," before
returning to the line.

"Adonis, step forth...kneel."

Having been warned by hearing his name earlier, Adonis with only a hint of
hesitation, kneels before the King.

"For valor is single combat with diverse monsters and for slaying a lamia 
in hand-to-hand combat, for protecting the flank of our army from enemy 
attack, I dub thee Sir Adonis, Knight Commander of the order of the Ruby.
Arise Sir Adonis.  All your other personalities are knights, too.  You know, 
I've been in shadows where that's treatable."

Adonis rises, nodding his thanks but Julian at least knows that
expression. Adonis acquiesced because it's clearly important to others, it
means nothing to him. But this earns a genuine grin of amusement. His 
brother suppresses an open laugh but can't stop himself from snorting
audibly.

Lilly listened as the first two were knighted though her thoughts were
elsewhere. She could tell that Random was indeed going to make a VERY odd
king. He had the charsima, that was for sure. Ah well, so long as he was
wise enough to surround himself with the right people. Upon hearing her
own name she gave King Random her full attention.

"Lilly step forth...kneel."

She did so. Outwardly she was taking all of this very seriously. Inwardly
she was amused by this new king and a bit overwhelmed by all of these
happenings.

"For your disarming manner with the enemy, for accomplishing your 
mission with unsteady troops, for breaking the Chaos army and 
hammering it into pieces, and for asking good questions, I dub thee Dame 
Lilly, Knight Commander of the order of the Ruby.  Arise, Dame Lilly.  
Don't worry, I'll have my serious face on when we re-do this in public."

She couldn't help but to smile. It was a full, bright expression that none
there, even her father had ever before witnessed. Perhaps it was wrong to
be proud and happy right now, but she was anyway.

Aisling devotes some portion of her attention to her fellows' lauds, while
those of you of moderate water may notice that her glances, during breaks,
back to the army and around the circle of royals signify a significant
portion of her mind is spinning about, determining whether or not there's
any way out of this.  She comes to the conclusion that there is not.

"Aisling, step forth.  Float forth if it makes you more comfortable.  

Aisling steps forward, with a bit of reluctance yet, glancing one last
time around the assembled elders and cousins.  At least she may be able to
gauge where the trouble will start.  She kneels respectfully before the
king, as those before her have done.  

"For protecting our arial protectors, for bravely standing alone between our
foe and where he could harm us, for getting wounded trying to save Lord
Balance, I dub thee Dame Aisling, Knight Commander of the order of the
Ruby.  Arise, Dame Aisling, and by the Unicorn I hope I got the gender
right.  We can change that for the official ceremony if I did."

Aisling chuckles and replies, "It will do."  As they embrace she whispers
tautly "May we talk after this?"

"Sir Jovian, step forth...kneel.  For the great service that your flights
of dragons did here, protecting us all from the wyverns, I dub thee Knight
Commander of the order of the Ruby.  Arise Sir Jovian.  You are now twice
a knight."

"I've never really thought once a knight was enough," he grins as he
rises, meeting Random's eyes as he has all along. The raffish smile is not
quite gone from his face when he turns and first meets Aisling's eyes,
even before his father's. The wicked look melts a bit, mellows to
something gentler and more sympathetic, before he returns to Julian's
side.

Aisling, in turn, looks a bit surprised and then her expression shifts to
solemn.  After Jovian has gone back to his place she spends a few moments
looking at the ground, faintly worried.

"Twice a night's enough for any man!" quips Adonis from beside Julian..

"We'll knight Marius on the flip side.  Not much point in doing it while
he's out cold." Brennan looks as though he does indeed see an upside 
to knighting Marius while he's out cold, but by some astrological 
convergence of stripes and stormclouds, says nothing.

Random grins, broadly. "You're all lucky.  I didn't think to call it
the Order of the Red Light until after it was too late.  OK, that's it for
the ceremonial awarding of the medals to the generals.  Take your troops
on to the citadel.  Benedict tells me it's neutral ground, but that it's
really bad to be the one to start something there, even if provoked. 
Stick together, don't forget to look both ways before crossing the Abyss, 
and don't leave the group until after he's spoken to you.  I'd rather not
have to fight another war just yet, I'm fresh out of medals."

And with that, Brennan does those things which he needs to do, and 
prevents from happening those things which no one wants to happen.

By the time the King had finished, Lilly had returned to her normal 
stoicism. She wasted no time in taking her leave before returning to her
troops.

Is Julian too busy with the rangers to talk? Adonis wants to enquire as to
his health. He seemed somewhat down before the speeches - or is a matter
of him not liking speeches?

Otherwise, Adonis does just as he's told, mounting Epona and calling the
dogs to heel once more before heading in the direction of Benedict. Since
he alone has no troops to encumber him, I imagine he arrives a little
ahead of most people. Am I right?

Jovian's look has the faintly forced amusement of one who knows a joke's
been told, but lacks the set of references to appreciate it. He nods
acknowledgment to the king, then gazes off into the middle distance.

//All right, Canareth. The foot troops are moving. Have the wings hang
back a bit so we don't arrive ahead of Lord Random and Benedict's
vanguard. Otherwise, we're ready to move.//

Orders given in a moment's thought, he moves to find Benedict, probably
arriving the moment just before or after his brother.

One of the things which Brennan does is try to catch the eyes of
people-- Lilly, Aisling, Jovian, and Multiple-Man-- as they head away from
Random and go about their business.

In the interests of expediency, I'll assume (hope) at least one person
heads over to talk to him, and just let anyone einterested comment from
there.  If Jovian and/or Adonis come over, he'll introduce himself as
Brennan, son of Brand, even though that should be pretty obvious by now.

As you all look down, the troops seem to be moving along in good order.
You see that Caine and the nobles riding back and forth, keeping things in
line.  The situation seems to be well in hand, or in the case of the
dragons, awing.

Noting that, Lilly will make her way over to Brennan. Not one to waste
words she simply puts on her best, 'it's your dime' face and awaits
whatever it is he wishes to say.

Jovian, unhurried in passing, pauses a moment to talk. "I'd gathered," he
nods, solemn but neutral. "Jovian, son of Julian. My wingriders call me
J'rim." He extends his hand.

"Ah, the provider of our air support."  He pauses, hearing both names.
"Something about Julian and multiple names, I guess.  Do you have a
preference?"

"The naming conventions of my shadow of birth don't really fit in 
Amber. I'll need to get used to Jovian."

Brennan shrugs.  "Sounds like Jovian it is, then." He accepts Jovian's 
proferred hand and shakes it firmly.  Brennan's hand is calloused.

"Call me Adonis!" says 'Multiple-Man', offering his hand. As with 
Jovian, Brennan shakes his hand.

"Far be it from me," Brennan says, "to put a political spin on all that so
soon, but did it strike anyone else that what Random wants is a common
thread through all the various little forces that were put into play
today?  Might make sense if we start things out, when we're ready, with
all of us inducting a few new members at the same time and place."

He pauses to gauge reactions.

Lilly considers his words for a moment. His line of thinking did indeed
make sense. "Perhaps." is the only answer she gives.

"I have one or two Companions in mind," Jovian acknowledges, "though I'm
not sure whether Himself intended to confer noble status on folk from
outlying shadows. If so, it's an elegant way of strengthening cross-Shadow
alliances."

"I'd idly wondered about that, myself.  I see it this way:  Not all
of us command Amber-native troops-- there are at least two batches of
Shadows out here with us.  And two of us didn't lead troops at all, per
se.  But we all have the same standing.  Part of that is surely political,
but it implies to me that we can do with it as we will.  I think a lot of
this is going to be left up to us-- what the Order means, insigniae, etc. 
We'll have to see.

"For my part, I've got both natives and Shadows.  But Corwin's
Little Furry Guys fought like Hell.  Unless told otherwise, I figure
that if some of them decide Amber is their promised land... well, then
they deserve it.  And I can think of one or two of them that deserve a
reward as well."

"I don't think his game is deep enough," Jovian considers carefully, "that
he'd give this to us just to see what we'll make of it, to test our worth.
Still, what we make of it will take our measure in several ways. We'll
have to put our heads together when there's time."

"I'll be looking forward to it."

Adonis also pauses, blinking, apparently having trouble understanding the
statement; though Brennan's pretty sure he can't be *that* stupid. Perhaps
something else is taxing his mental equipment. "Actually, I thought that
little string of ceremonies was aimed at preparing the ground for him to
know his nephews and nieces as individuals. I think he was...surprised to
find so many here and cannot have known them before the battle but still
he had a personal word for each. I think he will be a good king."

"That would probably be part of it, too."

But then he shrugs dismissively. "These little rituals can be important
but nothing was really said on either side so they have little meaning as
ceremonies go. I imagine we'll all be called to make more meaningful
obeisances later but His Majesty must have thought it important to make
his first seeding early." Adonis smiles mischievously into Brennan's eyes.
"And you obviously think the same; you also believe in early seedings."
Then his smile fades and a caring look comes into his eyes. "Or do you
fear, Son of your Father, that your ground may be barren?" The note in his
voice is far from critical, inviting an intimate response.

"I've been called a lot of things, but 'barren' isn't one of them.
Let's say I believe in striking while the iron is hot."

Adonis smiles gently, "I don't *call* you barren, Sir Brennan, it was
merely a metaphor..." Brennan pointedly ignores that.

"Just a thought.  And this way, it comes from us, and doesn't look
hamfisted on Random's part."

With a nod of her head Lilly replies, "True, to a great extent anyway.
There will of course be those who see through this as clearly as we do.
All the same, I do believe that there is wisdom in your thinking. And I
for one think that my troops will fare better if they shed their
association with Prince Eric in favor of an association with this new
knightly order."

Standing there with her it is obvious that her passionate warrior spirit
has literally been buried within her for the time being. Lilly comes off a
bit cold, calculating. If one did not know her lineage for fact it would
be very easy to discern.

Brennan nods in agreement as Lilly mentions that others will see
through the whole thing, as well.  "Oh, bet on it.  There's a knot of
nobility over there," he jerks his thumb toward the nobles and knights
that had first fought under Deirdre before her untimely death, "whose eyes
all told me-- with great eloquence-- that they think I'll turn out to be
an idiot."

He looks around, implying that their assessment probably moves beyond
Brennan personally.

"Guess that means we just have to subborn them.  I don't know much
about the social situation in Amber," he looks around hoping someone
will chime in, "but if there's a rift between the commoners and the
nobility, this might be the only Order open to both."

"Not to mention giving us rank *and* responsibility to secure our place
among the lords in conclave when we get home," Jovian adds. "It's a 
good move. I think this new Lord of ours will do just fine."

Brennan raises an eyebrow.

"It's not just that.  Did you catch the by-play between Bleys and...
Merlin, was it?  Seems we have at least one more cousin waiting
behind in Amber.  My blades vs a blueberry pie that Bleys has a kid
back there, thus explaining his sudden loyalty here today."

He's going to let that sink in, too.

"Doesn't say much for my necessity, though, since Brand is already dead."

"What that means for us and this distinction is a question. If there is
one, or more, waiting back home, the existence of this Order must not pave
the way for things to break down to Us vs. Them again."

Brennan looks like he's going to ask if Jovian is more worried about
Us, or Them, but evidently decides to defer it to their later
discussion.

Adonis chuckles. "Well, I considered knighting Pater's dogs but I don't
think that is what His Majesty had in mind - all that was for your benefit
rather than mine." 

"That depends on what we make of it, and what role the Order 
takes on. There is something to be said for having your own status 
and responsibility defined."

"Yup.  That's why I brought it up," responds Brennan.

For the first time a note of criticism comes into Adonis'
voice. "I do hope His Majesty allows more latitude in matters concerning
homage when doubtless the time comes fro him to demand such. What do *you*
think?"

"I think I'm getting tired of bending knee."

"Really?" muses Adonis. "I understand your father thought the same."
Brennan's only response to this is a smirk that's probably a presage
to an amused snicker.

Lilly breaks her silence without hesitation, "Cousins, I believe now is
neither the time nor the place for such comments. Wise men do not make
quick judgments based solely upon lineage." Her eyes meet each of theirs
in turn. Clearly she truly believes what she is saying.

Adonis smiles good-naturedly, gazing deeply and passionately into her eyes
as they meet his. "I think you misread our words - I never met Brennan's
father but his actions brought us all to this pass and I feel your cousin
hates his memory perhaps more than any. Now *I* care passionately that
Brennan be free of his influence, which others may seek to taint him with.
My little joke was intended merely to highlight for Brennan how his words
could be misconstrued by those of a suspicious mind. *I* believe his
comment was merely a heartfelt expression of his physical condition at the
end of a very tiring day. <to Brennan> Is this not so...cousin? <Back to
Lilly> For surely neither of us could be so obtuse as to assume he would
incriminate himself so blatantly before so many of his, and your,
generation?"

As Adonis speaks Lilly nods along, an almost amused expression on her
face. He was good, a true master of words. The type that could turn any
phrase to his advantage. It was definitely something to remember. One
word, "Indeed." was all she felt the need to say. Although Brennan has 
glanced from his own knees, to Adonis', and back again, he still hasn't 
deigned to respond to him.

Then Adonis turns his full attention on Lilly. "*I* believe we should put
aside our weapons in our dealings with each other for are we all not of
one blood? And therefore should we not *all* love each other?" Clearly he
also truly believes what he is saying.

Adonis and Lilly probably won't be able to hear (especially as
distracted as Adonis seems to be) but Brennan has been unable to
stifle a roll of the eyes and mutters sotto voce to Jovian, "*I*
believe I may come down with saccharine poisoning." Jovian should be
able to tell clearly that Brennan truly believes what he is saying.

"I hear *that*, cousin," Jovian commiserates in a jailhouse whisper.
"What's saccharine?" he adds as an afterthought.

She looks at him closer, more depth showing in her eyes. "Words can be as
dangerous a weapon as a sword Adonis. But I do agree. Now is a time for
unity not division."

"This is not the time for a discussion on semantics but some time soon I
would like the opportunity to explore the subject of words and war with
you." Lilly nods, acknowledging him while giving no hint as to wether she would
like to continue this or not. She couldn't. She was unsure of it herself.

Adonis breaks his dialogue with Lilly to include all around. "But is
it not time we learned to love each other for what we all are, to love
each in spite of our faults, even because of them? Love is a more powerful
power than Pattern, or magic, or the cards, and your elders have made too
little use of it until now. We are at a new beginning and we can create a
new paradigm if we truly wish it. Perhaps that is what was on His
Majesty's mind when he made you all knights."

Somewhere during this polemic, whatever his cousin's personal reactions,
they all get the feeling that he really means it - every word.

"Us, Adonis," says Brennan, with an emphasis on the pronouns.  "_Our_ King
made _us_ Knights, instead of _our_ elders.  Which was much of the point
of what I've said."

"Whatever you say." Responds Adonis, amused by the correction.

Then turning to Lilly, "And thank you, Lilly, for trying to defuse
that.  But I've already decided to accept Adonis' apology for his
ungraceful phrasing.  I'm sure he can be more careful with practice."

Adonis laughs joyfully; he seems delighted Brennan's reaction.

"Of course." Lilly says looking almost a bit embarrassed. She turns from
the group and shakes her head. Once again she felt like she had missed
somehting. Wasn't that always the way when she dealt with people? Books,
swords, troops, wars, they were easy. Those things she could deal with.
People were hard.

Adonis follows her with his eyes. He seems concerned, but perhaps he's
just working out how to get into her pants.

Aisling dawdles behind, hoping for a word with the king...  It's not like
she's got a whole lot to organize.

Aisling, having managed to end up with Random, sufficiently separated from
the rest that she cannot be heard, guages his attitude, and then jumps
right on in, fitting her style to her audience, speaking low and with some
urgency.  "Look, Random, I don't know what Oberon told Benedict about me,
or what Benedict told you, but I figure you of all people need to know
what it is you're getting in me.  I was a spy for Chaos, reporting on you
all, for about six years.  I was trained as an assassin; I've killed
around of score of people in that time.  I have barely a drop of Amber
blood.  And now on top of all that I'm a traitor.  All I'm asking is a
chance to live and help you guys.  Better you know who's offering before
you make any irreversible decisions, though."  Random's a poker player; he
can probably pick up faint tinges of self-disgust in what Aisling's mostly
trying to keep a neutral report.

Random takes a long drag on his smoke, thinking.  "Cigarette?" he offers.

She briefly nods, has a hand out, when her brain catches up and she gives
a small shake of her head.  "Not in this form, thanks; new lungs."

"Dad always liked Chaos.  It's part of why we're still here.  Let's see,
in the past six years, I've tried, in an up-close and personal way, to
kill three of my brothers and I've had dinner with both of the ones who
survived it afterwards.  I have eight siblings left alive, half of whom
have tried at least once to take the throne by force or magic and half of
whom might have if the circumstances were different.  I personally failed
to put a crossbow bolt through the heart of the King of Amber.

"I have a half a dozen freshly minted nephews and nieces, all unknown
quantities, and who knows how many more in Amber itself.  In a way, you
brats give me hope.  I know what a difference Martin makes to how I think
about Amber and Family.  I asked Martin about what he did for Dad and he
told me.  Then he said 'I think a lot of us did things in the war that we
don't like to talk about.'  He's a smart kid.

"Family.  It's not that it's the backbone of the kingdom.  It's that how
we treat each other is important.  Who knows where some kind word, some
empathetic gesture could have made Brand turn out differently?  There's no
fixing the past, but we can change the future, you know.   Geez, I sound
like Corwin when he's all drunk and maudlin, don't I?"

"Couldn't honestly say," she remarks.

"Blood tells, Aisling, at least Oberon's.  It's qualitatively different
and makes us who we are and lets us do what we can do and binds us one to
another.  I've got no percentage not starting off trying to be friends
with a bunch of immortal superheroes, even if they are my brothers and
sisters.

"I'm a drummer, not a priest or a philosopher worrying about the purity of
your soul.  What you did, you did.  I can't offer you any absolution or
comfort, but I can say that you don't have to be anyone you don't want to
be.  You have that power in and of yourself, even without being of
Oberon's line.  So few that have it use it.

"Besides, what am I gonna tell Benedict?  'Let's give a big hug to Brand's
kid and throw your granddaughter into the Abyss?'  I want to be a great
king by virtue of not having a successor to be measured against, thank you
very much."

Aisling chuckles.  Then, "Your funeral," she states with a shrug...  
Followed by a wink.  She's still stressed, but not so bad.

Random blows a perfect smoke ring, which is pretty remarkable given the
rain and all. "Anyway, I can tell you're uncomfortable with all this.  How 
about you tell me what you think I should do?"

"Well, saving us from the black rain would be a good start."  She grins.
"By the way, thanks for taking care of that wyvern-dragon.  I had wondered
for years what someone who knew weather top to bottom could do with the
Jewel."  Another grin, sparkling.

"No problem.  If I were walking in the sky fighting a flying giant dragon
made by pressing live wyverns together, I'm sure you'd do the same for me.
Honestly, I was glad to have the opportunity to use the thing.  It's not
the most comfortable thing I've ever worn.

"As for the new Order, don't worry about it.  I think it's a good idea.
And if you're willing to trust me with it, I'm willing to play it out.
I'll see what I can do to help out the 'brats' you've linked me with."

"I'd appreciate it if you looked out for them at the funeral.  They're
probably the biggest risk we have." She looks thoughtful and nods in 
acknowledgement of the order.

The previous two paragraphs have had some small portions of show mixed in
with sincerity; the show covers uncertainty.  Aisling's next words are
without doubt, though.  "Otherwise..." she pauses, gathering fatigued
wits, "Get your men out of the fixed place as soon as the funeral's done. 
It is not a place in which it is good to linger."

"So Benedict tells me.  If you could advise him as when it would be
decorously possible to leave, I'd appreciate it.  I think I may be stuck
here dealing with the storm for some time."

Another nod of acknowledgement.  "If you like, I will tell you the story
of the funeral when next we meet." With a momentary light of the eyes, 
"Oh, and congratulations on becoming king.  I am pleased that it is you."

"Thanks.   You're not the first relative to tell me that today, including
some whom I was sure would have killed me for it just two weeks ago.  I'm
still not sure if I'm pleased, but I suppose I'm willing to give some time
to find out if I like doing it.  Ask me how I feel in a few thousand
years."

She grins widely, in appreciation of his view of things.  That one
sentence has probably upped him in her estimation a good handful of
points, at least...

Random looks at the cloud-wall, advancing on the heights.  "I suppose I
better get up there and play Moses, unless he's a shadow of me..."

Aisling nods, bows, gives him an encouraging look, and lets him be.  She'd
have done more talking, but she has no intention of distracting him from
the storm for long.  

Or maybe she's determined to surpass Benedict, in some area other than
warfare.  ;)

She returns to her affine, as I'm thinking that by now most groups of
chatters have broken up and speeches are over.  If there's still a speech
of Benedict's to sit through, though, she will by all means attend that.

Concluding his brief exchange with Brennan, Jovian makes his way to
Benedict. "You wanted to see us before we moved out, sir?" he states
simply. "And if there's anything my wingriders should know from Bleys that
you can tell me now, I'd appreciate it; it'll be hard to talk with him
while I'm flying."

Benedict gathers all of the freshly minted knights.

"Congratulations, it is a well-deserved honor.  The troops you led
performed slightly better than I anticipated.  If anyone would like a
detailed analysis of their work here, it will be my pleasure to provide
it--in the castle and assuming we survive the funeral."

Brennan gives a loose wave at that offer. He is obviously interested. 
Aisling looks interested in Benedict's words as well, though it may be the
praise that draws her attention more

"Funeral is something of a misnomer.  It will probably be more closely
akin to a Rugby scrum at a wake in a minefield.  For reasons involving
face and showing strength, you all will be free to mingle and interact
with some of our more inquisitive foes."

The corners of Aisling's mouth quirk up into a black-humorly smile at
this. The slightly forced smile tugs at the corners of Jovian's mouth again -
plainly he lacks the references but gets the sense of it.

"We shall stay no longer than we have to.  Part of what we will be doing,
and please do not share this with anyone who is not kin, is figuring out
how to leave.  Right now we don't know.

"The rules of this place are clear.  Minions left outside are to be
unharmed, although they can be investigated.  Inside is for those who can
deal with talking to the foes.  Your seconds and lieutenants can look
after the troops.

"Don't get out of sight of someone.  If you get into trouble, look for an
elder, or Aisling.  She's got the best current knowledge of Chaos.

"I do not know what enemies, former enemies, or former friends we might
meet in there.  It is a changing place.  Anticipate unpredictability.

"As all of the major questions are answered, please do not hesitate to
discuss matters of import with strangers.  Just make sure to note their
names and report their interests to me or to Caine.

"Are there any questions?"

When, when will his uncles learn not to close a speech with, 'Are
there any questions?'  It's like waving a red cape.  It's almost a
tacit challenge....

"So we don't know exactly where we are, don't know how long we'll be
here, becuase we don't know how to get out, and we don't know who
we'll face or what we'll be asked.  Do we know if there's anything we
*shouldn't* say, or do, other than the prohibition against violence?
Anything we consider common knowledge but could be considered a state
secret out here?"

"The first three aren't really news, are they?"Replies Adonis, though
whether to Benedict or Brennan isn't clear. "And I suspect our 'hosts'
will already be aware of our situation. Yes, there are things we should
not say or do but surely we can trust our own judgement. Anything common
knowledge in Amber is probably now common knowledge among people of power
here. After all, they have had their spies in Amber for many years."

Jovian looks on at his half-brother's display with open disgust. He 
glances back at Benedict to gauge the general's reaction at being 
contradicted, not to mention having his prerogative presumed upon.

"We are in Chaos; it is probably not possible to predict who or what we
will encounter. Even the Aisling probably cannot tell us. [Adonis puts the
same emphasis on 'Aisling' that late 20th C earthlings might put on
'Quisling'.]

Perceptive members of the crowd can probably tell that Brennan isn't
too trusting about the prohibition of violence, much less if some
freshly-routed enemy commanders are going to be there.

Something shifts in the dragonman's eyes so that his gaze differs 
from Canareth's flaming breath in two pertinent respects - focus and
intensity. It does not seem quite possible that Adonis could feel the
chill in the air with *that* upon him.

Aisling grimaces to the point of bringing a hand up to her forehead to
sort of shield her eyes, and gives Jovian a quelling glare.

Adonis glances at his brother, questioningly. Then he glances at
Aisling, almost smirks but thinks better of it. 

Aisling glances to Adonis with a faintly grateful look.

Adonis looks away, bringing a hand over his mouth to hide a definite
smirk. He sidles half a pace away from Aisling.

Aisling keeps her expression mild, mostly managing to tuck away the
section of her that's saying "ow" currently.  Speaking to the group and
Adonis, she says,  "I am inclined to believe that there were no other
Chaosite spies in Amber in the past handful of years; the denizens of
Chaos find the Order of Amber impossible to survive in.  Your basic point
is correct, though: they have had many opportunities to capture Amberite
troops during their forays, and thus the Chaosites who took part in the
attacks on Amber may know everything a common man of Amber does.  However,
there are likely to be some Lords of Chaos in attendance at the fixed
place now merely to determine what the cause of this incursion of order on
...sacred ground is; those, you may either inform or let your enemies
inform."  

Turning to direct her question to Benedict, Aisling asks then with some
unease, "You- we cannot return to Amber the way we came?"  She hopes for
an explanation of how it was that they came, in addition to why it won't
work to return that way...

Jovian is more than a little curious about this as well. He gestures at
the black curtain of dissolving rain. "To put a finer point on it, sir
...how good are our reasons to believe there's still a *there* out there?"

Throughout this discussion, Lilly has been standing quietly, her features
barely registering expression, until now. The thought of Tecys no longer
exsisting, of her foster parents falling prey to that horrible black rain,
or worse, tears at her heart. Though her silence remains, her expression
becomes quite somber as her gaze shifts to the ground. No tears are shed,
not now, not here. Tears would wait until she was sure of the facts.

"Amber lies that way," he says, gesturing towards the curtain of black
rain with the stump of his right arm.  "We can't march home, we can't
trump home.  We'll have to play it by ear.  If any of you have
suggestions, I am open to hearing them."

He seems to believe that by ignoring the question about Amber's possible
non-existence, he can make it go away. 

Lilly looks up surveying the storm. "The storm is our barrier then." she
says loud enough for all to hear though really she is speaking to herself.
She turns again to her father, "I am sure you and King Random have already
discussed everything that comes to my mind. The first of course is finding
a way to dispearse the rain. The second is trying to change it's course
while hoping it does not stretch all the way to Amber herself. The
question in both of those cases is how. The King has demonstarted some
control over the forces of nature, but I have no clue od their extent.
Third, and this is perhpas the most dangerous, is to allow it to wash over
us and hope... Once it is beyond us, it is no longer between us." Lilly
shrugs, she was no expert on these things. Of course she dobted there was
anyone who was.

Aisling frowns at the situation and keeps her mouth shut, not having
enough solid information yet to tack anything on.  She's interested in the
answers to Lilly's points.

Benedict shrugs.  "It may be that the King can direct the storm into the
Abyss, where it can do harm to no living being.  Getting in out of the
rain, thus limiting the work required of the King to protect us, is as
strong a reason to go to the citadel as Courtly Protocol.

"Even assuming it is gone, we still cannot march back.  Even if some of us
could physically complete a ride this far into Chaos, we cannot return
thusly with an entire army.

"One of this things your presence will do, I hope, is be interesting
enough to some of the powers of this place that they will not notice the
conclave of our family's Magi to consider the question of how to leave.

"Or it may all become a moot point if the Trumps reconnect soon enough. 
We shall see."

Brennan says nothing during this, but the astute can tell that he is
already at work devising plans to make possible those things which
Benedict has pronounced impossible.  Or at least some of them.

He pauses, then nods.  "You have your orders.  Aisling, would you ride
with me?"

Aisling bows slightly.  "I would be honored.  I ask only that you grant me
a moment to speak to my affine, and that you acquire for me also a horse."

Brennan shrugs.  None of those are problems with a five minute solution,
but he can worry about them and speak with his cousins at the same
time.  Being naturally gifted, he can even walk while doing both those
things, and if either Jovian or Lilly are interested, he will walk with
them to the appointed place.

Jovian gives Brennan a nod of recognition as the group breaks up. "We
probably won't have further opportunity to continue our talk until after
the funeral, Brennan, but I look forward to it. I've got to fly; the wings
are circling waiting for me. See you on the inside!" He waves, more
jauntily than he feels, and strides down the hill toward Canareth. 

By the time Julian turns to signal him, he is at the head of an orderly
formation, gliding so as not to surge ahead of the vanguard on the ground.

Assuming one or both of them are willing to share his company, he idly
continues their conversation of before about the new Order, this time
about matters of more specificity, if perhaps less gravity.  He allows as
to how he has a few ideas of some insignia pins, and the skills to design
and construct them.  As witness of his ability, before they reach that
place where violence is forbidden, he will (if asked) draw the blade he
began the battle with and allow it to be inspected.

Satisfied with the information Benedict had provided, Lilly nods slightly
in his direction. Atleast now there was a purpose behind their
socialization. It was something she would keep in mind.

For now she would trust in her elders. They had all survived for a very
long time and managed to overcome many a problem. This was just another in
a long list she was sure.

Lilly will indeed join Brennan. For the most part though, he is the one
doing the talking. Lilly is a wonderful listener. He always feels he has
her full attention. Most of her responses though consist of little more
then head movements and the occasional "perhaps".

When the sword is mentioned though, her eyes light up. She would never
pass on the oprotunity to speak weapons with anyone. Lilly takes great
interest in every aspect of it's craftsmanship.

"She is a fine sword Brennan. My foster father is a smith. I spent more
time learning how to use items such as these then creating them however."
This might very well be the most words he has heard her speak at any one
given time.

As she notes Benedict and Aisling departing, Lilly can't help but wonder
what it is he wants with her. True, she was of his line. Perhpas there was
little more to it then that. Still, it left her feeling a bit
uncomfortable.

Aisling informs Cloudeater, "We will be heading into the heart of the fixed
place to attend the funeral of Oberon, one of my ancestors, whose face
earlier spoke from the cloud.  Did you note that?  If so, what did you
hear him say?"  

Cloudeater looks upset, after a moment, she answers.  "I regret, Lord,
that I cannot recall.  Did it happen before I changed forms?"

"Hm."  Aisling makes note of this, and answers the question, "I believe it
was just after I left you the first time, while you were engrossed in
burrowing through the wyvern-cloud."  She shrugs, and moves on, "The 
funeral will involve a conclave of Lords.  I wish you to be at my side 
throughout that.  Follow along the army, and come up to meet me when 
we near the entry."

She wishes for this to take a very short time; thus, hopefully, then she
will come up to Benedict just after he has gotten the horses, to mount and
ride with him.

Having spoken briefly with his father and chatted to Brennan, Adonis
heads down the hill, heading for the rangers.

Once there, he approaches his father's officers who he knows will
recognise them and informs them Prince Julian has asked him to address the
men. Once formed up, he finds a suitable vantage point and surveys them as
they turn their attention his way. There's a few from Arcadia who know who
he is and he lets their comments spread to others near them before
speaking. When he judges the moment is right [but he won't wait too long
in any case]...

"A few of you know me! A few more know of me, but let me introduce
myself to those innocent who know me not. I am Adonis Adonai, son to the
Goddess Artemis by Prince Julian of Amber and it is at his behest that I
address you." The Rangers perk up at the mention of Prince Julian.

"I bring tidings of sorrow and great joy. Brand is dead and the enemy
vanquished! Our friends and loved ones are avenged and our homes safe
again. Many have fallen and even the highest has died this day but their
sacrifice has not been in vain, for though the Old King is dead, a new
King is arisen, to lead us from the barrenness of Winter into the green
hope of Spring." Cheers at the news of Brand's death and victory, falling
to a sudden quietness at the mention of Oberon's death.

"Some of you may have beheld her as a bolt of white as she left. Others
perhaps saw her as she raised the Ruby Gem from out the Abyss and gave it
to your King, but it is true that The Unicorn herself has given you your
King - Random rules, by the Grace of the Unicorn, and already we have seen
him take up his power and smite the enemy into the oblivion." A momentary 
buzz at the mention of Random and the smiting of the dracoform, which falls 
to quietness as Adonis continues.

"Now he directs you to enter that place yonder, where we shall abide for a
time until it is safe to leave. You shall proceed to that place and
conduct yourselves as befits men of honour. I warn you not to bring
violence to that place, for the time of War and Death is past, now is
coming the time of Peace and Life - *our* time."

"Now it may be that we may all be tempted, that we, remembering our
loved ones, our friends, slain by our enemies in time of War, that we will
be filled with wrath and a desire to smite our enemies. That we may have
the strength to resist our baser impulses, let us now join in prayer..."

Adonis falls upon one knee, flining his arms wide and calling to the
sky..
.
"She is my Shepherdess, I shall not want.
She beckoneth me to lie down in the green woods and leadeth me by
springs of bright water.
She restoreth my soul and body and maketh me whole where once I was
hurt.
Yea, though I walk by the Abyss of Death, I will fear no Chaos; for she is
with me, her Horn comforts me. She preparest a tableau before me in the
presence of mine enemies; she delivereth the Jewel. Her Goodness and Mercy
shall follow me all the days of my life and I will dwell in her land of
Amber forever. Amen!"

The Rangers seem a little bemused by the prayer concept, but they
recognize important ceremony when they see it, and call out a responsive
"amen," a bit raggedly and out of tune.

[As those of you who are native to Amber or have spent a lot of time there
may recall, the majority of Amber people are pretty irreligious.]

Sometime during Adonis' prayer, Julian himself appears behind Adonis (he
was not there before Adonis started praying). When the Rangers fall
silent, Julian speaks. He says "You have your orders. Prepare to move out
at once."

Adonis remains kneeling for a short while as the rangers file out. Then he
rises, still watching the rangers. When he is sure none are near enough to
hear, he speaks quietly, still looking forward.

"I heard no 'amen' from behind - you are angry with me, Pater."

Julian arches an eyebrow at the word 'angry'. He says: "I am what I am. I
doubt the Unicorn means the same thing to you that she does to me."

That first phrase causes Adonis to turn quickly, catching his father's
eyebrow. He surveys Julian's face minutely for some time. "Ride with me,
Pater." Though phrased imperatively, the tone is invitational. "I would be
interested to understand what she means to you." He gestures to their
horses not far away.

Julian walks over mounts Morgenstern fluidly, without breaking stride.
Adonis knows that if his father were not waiting for the Rangers behind
him, he would have touched Morgenstern on at once; he expects his sons to
be no slower than he is. He looks back to Jovian, and if Jovian and his
wings are ready to fly to the citadel (as he expects), he signals them to
move out.

Having offered the invitation, Adonis does not intend to keep his father
waiting. He similarly vaults lightly onto Epona's back, a stride behind
Julian.

The Rangers have fallen into formation behind Julian and Adonis and are
ready to march to the Citadel. As Julian falls in before them, he says
casually to Adonis, "What She means ... is complex. But the sort of
divinity practiced in Arcadia is not my native idiom."

Adonis mulls this for a few seconds. While riding over tolerably uneven
terrain, he's looking all about him, occasionally flashing over the
shoulder glances at Jovian's dragons as they take wing, looking anywhere
but at his father, but perhaps Julian can sense his son is extraordinarily
attentive to his words.

"May I observe, Pater, you seem drawn to Goddesses..." Julian's eyebrow 
climbs back up his forehead. "Do you find it difficult to express your feelings 
for Her? Would you prefer to speak in parables?" Adonis flashes the briefest 
of smiles to show this is intended to amuse. "I would still like to hear you 
speak of Her in your own words, however briefly."

"Parables are, again, more your native idiom than mine. But the term
miracle would seem appropriate given the events of this day. The true
measure of the miracle, though, will be whether the change of heart
endures beyond this time and place. I cannot be the only one who would
welcome such a change, who would see an end to the dying of our kin."  And
a shadow passes over his face at this last.

"Life, as with all things, is defined by parameters, one of which is
Death. Were it not for Death, we could not so value the Life that comes
before and he is unavoidable; to live is to die, and to suffer Death
about. But the action of Death takes the loved from those left alive,
causing pain, and thus it is; to live is to feel pain!" Adonis shudders.
"Though he is always about us, I have only met Death once and I didn't
like him either. I too hope he gives us respite for a time."

"A miracle...yes!" Adonis says nothing for a beat, marshalling his
thoughts. "When She made Random King...you were the first, Pater, to
kneel, though I understand the two of you were never close. I...have
since...decided you must have done so..." he seems to have difficulty
finding the right words, "...instinctively? without thought? - acting from
the heart, rather than the head. Whereas your brothers considered their
actions and so were behind." He throws Julian a long look to see how he's
taking the speculations.

Julian's countenance is completely neutral, perhaps deliberately so.

"It is a miracle, Pater, and has never happened before, but the thing that
has never happened before is still happening. It is still a miracle. Do
you not think our own hearts might carry the flame and ignite it in
others? That is how Life endures; changes of heart too, perhaps?"

"Perhaps," says Julian, "but life endures by change; we will see whether
changes of heart are the same."

Adonis is silent for a time as they lead the rangers over the Abyss. As
they near the Citadel, he speaks one more time.

"Upon our return, Pater, however long it may take us, I shall of course,
have duties to attend to in Arcadia that I do not intend to shirk.
However, I would like to know Amber better than I do - I would appreciate
your advice pertaining to our ungodly relations. Do you think the rangers
need a chaplain?"

"If they express the desire for one, I shall entrust the matter to your
care," Julian says, and it's genuinely not meant to sound snotty. "I
suspect we will all have duties to attend to on our return to Amber." The
idea that there might not be an Amber or that you might not get back there
doesn't seem to have occurred to him.

Clearly feeling the same, at the thought of two hopeless optimists
riding over a flimsy ribbon of nothing into the Citadel of Chaos, Adonis
bursts into song, perhaps to lighten his father's heart. [With apologies
to Jethro Tull :-)]

"Let me bring you songs from the wood: 
to make you feel much better than you could know. 
Dust you down from tip to toe. 
Show you how the garden grows. 
Hold you steady as you go. 
Join the chorus if you can: 
it'll make of you an honest man. 

Let me bring you love from the field: 
poppies red and roses filled with summer rain. 
To heal the wound and still the pain 
that threatens again and again 
as you drag down every lover's lane. 
Life's long celebration's here. 
I'll toast you all in penny cheer. 

Let me bring you all things refined: 
galliards and lute songs served in shilling ale. 
Greetings well met fellow, hail! 
I am the wind to fill your sail. 
I am the cross to take your nail: 
A singer of these ageless times. 
With kitchen prose and gutter rhymes. 
Songs from the wood make you feel much better."

And he's still singing as they pass the gates.

Benedict waits quietly while a horse is found for Aisling.  The one armed
general and the shapeshifter are amongst the last down the hill.  He lets
you lead and set the pace.  Cloudeater will follow on foot (which is not a
burden to her).

After a short ride you reach the black roadway and ride on a black ribbon
over emptiness towards the citadel.  It seems distant, moreso than it did
from the air above the battlefield, except that sometimes it seems less. 
It is good to ride here, out from the rain, although either you or the
nothing under his hooves is agitating the horse.

Aisling controls the horse firmly with her legs; she has no doubt but that
it is alarmed by the apparently nonexistent ground, and it would do no
good to give it the added worry of a uncertain rider.  She leans forwards
along its neck and murmurs soothingly to it, so soft that even Benedict
can't hear her words...  Unless he should have very good ears, in which
case he will be able to tell that she's politely explaining the situation
to the horse and pointing out that they must each trust the other.

You quietly ride past troops of several races.  The troops are excited and
the less disciplined are talking and pointing at Benedict, who on his
colorful striped horse is at least as distinctive as you are.

Moreso, no doubt; wearing a cape, at a distance, Aisling can pass for
Rebman.  Besides, she is using this lull to rest and find the resources
she will need in the coming conclave...  Her fires quite banked, she rides
huddled in the cloak, perfectly willing to play Merlin to Benedict's
Arthur.

After a moment of quiet progress, Benedict speaks quietly.  "Aisling.  it
has been a long time since my last visit to Chaos.  You are one of many
surprises I have had this week.  I think my brother may have made an enemy
of your cousin Dara.  If you decide that you belong in Chaos, you do not
have to choose to be our enemy.  Or mine."

She looks up at him, violet eyes startled.  This was far more than she had
expected.  Then over her faces spreads a subtle look of gratitude; nothing
more flashy than a faint smile, but somehow she seems a bit happier.
"Thank you," she says.  "I believe, though, that the door I shut today
will be that which leads to Chaos."

"I expect that I will be familiar with some of the more notable notables
at the funeral, but I have little recent intelligence.  You will see
things I miss.  Please let me know what you see that is unusual or people
who seem different.  It might be important, and I'm not sure your Amber
cousins will be able to note anything subtle or changed.  Will you aid
me?"

"I will aid you, Benedict."  Aisling's gaze is in the direction of the
citadel, though clearly her view is inward.  "My recent intelligence on
Chaos may also be sparse, but I will do what I can."

After little more quiet riding, Aisling mentions, "It seems to me that it
may be possible, if Amber is truly unreachable...  that the family could
create a new Court here that would encompass your troops, and that you
could direct this court as a ship though the primal chaos until it closed
on Shadow."  She barely shrugs, economizing motion, "I am not learned in
these matters, but perhaps I can discover more about them presently."

"Hmm.  I don't know that we could, but I don't know that we couldn't.  For
all the time I ever spent here, I never really investigated the creation
of Courts.

"I shall mention it to Caine and see what he thinks."

Aisling inclines her head in acknowledgement, and looks mildly interested
at Benedict's bits o' information.  

After a bit of a pause, she continues the gradual conversation as they
approach the citadel, turning to watch the general closely as she does so:
"It may also be possible...  (she changes tacks, as she is walking into
what may be charged ground)  Benedict, I am a shapeshifter of some ability.
My abilities to heal are rather extensive, and I am able to extend them to
others.  When we get a chance, if you like, I may be able to begin to
assist your body in the regeneration of your arm...  Perhaps over time
shortening the period you will be without it from years or decades to
months or years.  ...It would be appropriate if I were to help undo the
damage my ancestress caused you."  There is a tentative smile waiting in
the wings of Aisling's expression.

Benedict's expression might as well be a wax mask.  "We shall see."  
After a moment, he adds, as if considering the impact for the first time,
" it *is* inconvenient to be without it."

He seems strangely unconcerned by the loss.  If he were a mortal, you'd
think he was just in denial. 

Several months later...  Well, and well.  However, he is not a mortal, and
neither is Aisling.  She has all the time in the world now; the offer is
made, and she can await his pleasure.  Besides, they are coming up on
Flora; so she graces him with a flicker of a smile and looks ahead to his
youngest sister...

Slowly, Grandly, an army mighty enough to hold against the forces of Chaos
on their very doorstep begins to move.  Sailors and nobles and red furry
men all form into ranks with a minimum of confusion and begin to move
along the last segment of the black road and, with Bleys and his cavalry
in the lead, off the edge of the final abyss and towards the nighted
citadel. Overhead, the dragons begin their flight.

The citadel seems far from you, a great building on an island of stability
floating in nothingness.  Around it buzz lights, fireflies or
will-o'-wisps or something else, and as you approach you see that the
bridging strand of filmy darkness is but one of many that connect to the
space around the citadel.and other beings are also converging on it along
those paths.

Julian and Adonis, Fiona, Benedict and Aisling arrive, somehow, at the
same moment that Jovian lands.  Flora is is standing on the roadway,
waiting, when you arrive.

[Lilly and Brennan can be here as well, if they left their troops to their
lieutenants to march in.  Otherwise, they will arrive with their
respective contingents.]

Per previous discussion, Brennan is walking along with Lilly, chatting
idly of metallurgy and tokens.  When they come close enough the Nighted
Citadel to have this view, Brennan falls progressively more silent.  If
his blade is still out, he sheathes it rather deliberately, so that there
can be no misunderstanding or incidental provocation. 

As he falls silent, he is (as I'm sure everyone else is) keeping a
sharp eye out for details.  He is not excluding this last or first
span of the Black Road itself from his scrutiny.

From this close, the citadel still seems indistinct, more the idea of a
citadel than an actual citadel.  Focusing too closely on any detail serves
only to give you a headache.  No more detail emerges about the flitting
lights, either.

Adonis, having finished singing, takes the small amount of time
available to admire Flora, whom he has yet to meet.

"I've arranged for our troops to have a place outside the citadel to wait.
It will be along that side path, "  she points and there is a path.  It
seems to go nowhere, though.  Benedict nods and leads the group through.
As you enter the path, the destination becomes...there.  That is your best
explanation for it.  A homelike rural valley appears before you, with a
river, grass, and trees.  It seems a cross between Rivendell and
Westchester County.  The river is not so much a river as an opening into
the abyss, though, and there are no signs of life or wind or change.  It
is as if you have entered a picture.

"Bring the troops here."  Benedict says.  "When they are all safely here,
we will enter as a group." 

That is exactly what Lilly does (regardless of when and where she enters
the scene). She sees to it that the troops are all brought in and taken
care of before returning to her father's side.

There's really not much to say to this, so Brennan doesn't waste his
time trying to say it.  Instead, he moves to the head of his column of
troops.  He surveys the officers of the various groups and then the groups
themselve, and since I trust he finds all in good order, he will offer his
compliments to the seniormost of them, with instructions to pass it down
the line.  He is composed and solemn, as is appropriate for a man heading
to a funeral, but he has kept his eye for detail nonetheless, and is still
their commander.

When he reaches Caine, who is presumeably still with the Navy, he will
indicate quietly that he'd like to talk, possibly even during the funeral
or the approach to it.

Tearing his gaze away from Flora (Michelle Pfieffer - Ooooh!), Adonis aids
his father in marshalling troops but taking the opportunity to ensure
Jovian's dragins alight safely.

Aisling overlooks the place and then dismounts...  Despite everything
she's been through, the motion still a model of grace.  She removes her
cape with a flick, clearly moving away from a resting state, and tucks it
and her satchel into the horses's saddlebags.  She turns the horse over to
the grooms handling family horses, and makes her way to Flora, to whom she
bows.  "My compliments on your diplomacy," she says with a wave of her
hand to the valley.

Flora laughs, not unkindly.  "Thank you.  The place is an image of a place
in my mind.  Of course if this were Westchester County, then almost
exactly where that citadel is, there would be a maximum security prison
called Sing-Sing."

Benedict nods.  "Everything they do is a message, some more subtle than
others."

When the last of you arrives, with or without companions, Benedict says
"We should enter.  Don't get out of sight of each other and be prepared to
leave suddenly."  He also tells you that if you choose to bring
companions, do not let them wander freely.

Companions. The thought gives Jovian's eyebrow a Julianic 
workout, as if it hadn't occurred to him that it might be appropriate to
bring a date to a funeral. With a twist at the corner of his mouth, a
wistful shadow crosses his eyes for half a moment and is gone again.

And, it being as simple as that, you walk to the open gate.  Close study
of the 'walls' of the building suggest that it is not really there, a
phantom place not unlike Tir-na Nog'th (or as Tir has been described, for
those of you who have not gone to the moonlit city).  Except here, if you
concentrate too hard on one spot, it becomes more real, somehow.  You
occasionally get the feeling that the walls are *paying attention*.

Approaching the edifice, Jovian's eyes climb its towers for a long, 
distracted moment. A ghost of silent movement disturbs the line of 
his mouth, then the wisp of a stray smile.

It's not an Escher scene. Down is always down.  If the rooms do not seem
to fit well together, at least you can never see the overlap from where
you're standing.  Caine reminds you that you cannot count on going 10
paces north and 10 paces west and arriving at the same spot as your cousin
who went 10 paces west and then 10 paces north.

Benedict brings you all into the gates and you stand at the top of a
stairs looking down into a sunken ballroom.  At the far end there is a
stage, upon which a wagon sits, with a casket upon it.

Aisling has been scanning the crowd from the moment it was first possible.
Her eyes find the knot around Clarissa and her shoulders literally slump a
bit in relief, even more remarkable as it momentarily breaks the bright
facade that has been growing steadily about her.  She exhales; there are
other emotions in her face, but she cannot be read so easily and the chink
in her emotional armor passes quickly.  Her chin juts out a bit more than
it has, a pose of confidence (or is it cockiness?) as she makes eye
contact with Count Madoc, and she smiles, the corners of her eyes
crinkling up.

It should surprise no one that, as Brennan looks down the stairway
(and again later when he descends and enters the funeral parlor)
Brennan looks around in the way of someone noting details and
locations of persons.

There is a particularly long look at Dworkin, and the Moonriders.

"You'll want to make your way to that at some point, to pay respects.
Dworkin is over there--he should be safe as long as he's sane.  Ask him
about that before you start talking to him.  The insane are under special
protection here.

Up until this point Lilly had reflected Benedict's stoicism perfectly. But
the idea of walking up to a man and asking him if he was sane? That just
seemed... bizarre. How would he know? Most mad men presumed themselves to
be quite normal or so Lilly believed. There was much to learn about this
place. She listened more intently. 

Aisling breaks off the gaze and looks at Dworkin.  The man who drew the
Pattern, here, hundreds of years after he was thought dead?  Hmm... 
(Plus, time to re-align herself with the mass of the family in the
show-and-tell...)

Jovian blinks at the cart and the hunched figure in its vicinity. The
question, unvoiced, is plain on his face: Is there any tactful way to say,
'Pardon me, but are you quite sane today?'

He looks to the left of the stage, where a group of pale men, all wearing
silver and black are clustered, conferring.  There is something odd about
the way they move.  "Those are the Moonriders.  They've been out of the
game for a long time.  Do not invite them to visit you in Amber.  They are
not welcome."

Another point to remember. Lilly had felt that the Moonriders were something
bad for lack of a better word earlier. Now her father had all but
confirmed that.

And Moonriders, close at hand!  Ah, now *this* would be a visit to the
holy city Aisling could enjoy, were it not for the onus of keeping everyone
alive...

The dragonrider straightens a bit more at this, gives first the 
Moonriders and then Benedict a long, careful eye, and nods 
slightly.

"Next to them are a few members of Lintra's household, speaking to Count
Madoc and someone...."  Benedict's eyes open in surprise.  Bleys looks at
the woman, all accoutered for mourning, red haired, he leans forward and
then laughs his large laugh.  Fiona says one word, in a wearily resigned
tone.  "Mother."

Brennan sees the woman as well, and is silent but tilts his head in
that George Clooney-esque manner that says, "I don't know why I didn't see
that coming, but I'll be damned if I show surprise."

Jovian looks his question at Julian this time, gauging his father's 
reactions. What the wingleader expects is unclear, with that 
peculiar twist to the corner of his mouth again.

"Duty calls" says Bleys.  "I must pay her my respects before she sweeps up
here to demand them."

Benedict nods and continues his brief introductions.  "Dara will most
likely be here, and Merlin should join us shortly."  I see three other
Dukes of Chaos, several of the prominent paraders, a blue demon, and I
think I see two of the dragons that flew overhead getting drunk at the
punchbowl.  I hope they can maintain their size spells while imbibing."
This, not unexpectedly, intrigues Jovian tremendously. While he 
has surveyed the gathering generally heretofore, if carefully, he now
studies the dragons with particular interest.

"One or two Rebmans, they're a long swim from home, and if I'm not
mistaken, they're talking to  the Marshall of the Moonriders.  Well,
that's not a good thing.

Brennan takes a close look at that individual on the way down the
stairs, as well.

"I'm sure I missed several important people. Remember, it's is considered
polite to ask anyone his or her name here, at any time.  It's common to do
so in the middle of a conversation if someone says something unexpected,
in case they've changed personalities mid-sentence.

Lilly replied this over in her mind. //It's considered polite to ask
anyone his or her name here, at any time.// Yes, she was sure that was
what he said. This was getting worse with each passing moment. That
information was filed alongside all the others.

Again the Julianic eyebrow workout from Jovian at this, and an expression 
which becomes, if possible, even more carefully controlled.

"You may mingle among them now.  Remember you have an advantage because
they do not know who you are.  Be alert, we are still in enemy lands.  We
should do our grieving and mourning later.  Trust no sympathetic impulse
here."

Lilly nods. Her father's warning would go heeded. She had no intention of
letting this place get the better of her regardless of it's strange rules.

"Help me keep an eye on the Amberites," Aisling mutters to Cloudeater,
close at her side.  "Tap me on the shoulder if it looks like any of them
are headed into trouble."

As you begin to walk down the stairs, you see faces turned on all sides to
stare at you, looking for a chink in your family's collective armor.  Your
aunts, uncles, and parents are, according to their proclivities, grim and
serious, bright and cheerful, or unreadably emotionless.  Not a one of
them is giving anything away.  As they reach the bottom, they begin to
split up.

As she entered the scene, Lilly decided to treat this as learning 
opprotunity instead of a social encounter. The difference was subtle she
knew. Still, by thinking about this on her terms, she made herself feel
empowered. Quietly she began to observe the room around her, being careful
not to loose sight of her father. She hoped to gain knowledge through
listening and watching rather then interacting. Your cousins, aunts, 
and Uncles split up.  Julian and his lot approach the
funerary cart.  The redheads and Aisling and her father are having family
reunions to one side.  Llewella is heading for the Rebmans, Flora is
moving towards the bar and the Dragons, and Caine and Benedict are having
a quiet chat.  The younger group of moonriders seems to be paying
attention to you, although none are so gauche as to point.

Aisling sweeps down the stairs, the picture of poise, with a smile that
could light the room.  Any of you who had any doubts about her
shapeshifting ability do not doubt now--there is not a ghost of a hint of
fatigue anywhere about her, and the change may be more startling than
anything grossly physical.  You don't know what she's burning to do this,
but there's no indication she couldn't go all night.  Those of you with
water may recognize this as diplomatic full-out attack mode.  She
sparkles.

Her hair, lavender with blond streaks, is fully dry by now; quicker than
your hair dried.  Her six butterfly-purple back streamers are spread out
from each other behind her, arching upwards confidently.  Her
softly-folding melon halter top and loose pants offer no impediment to the
grace of her movements, though you get the feeling even full plate armor
wouldn't stand a chance of hindering her grace.  The sword and dagger
belted around her waist certainly haven't a hope.  It is possible to
notice that her right hand is heavily, albeit neatly, bandaged; noticing
the smudge of blood near her knee is much less likely.  Her violet eyes
scan the area continuously, keeping a watch out over the family,
particularly the younger ones; and she mingles her beaming way over to
Madoc.  He saw her; if he chooses to meet her somewhere in the middle,
that's fine.

In her wake comes Cloudeater...  A ten-foot-tall grey stone giantess still
managing to look like supporting cast.

Adonis accompanies Julian to the foot of the stair. "Pater, will you want to 
say goodbye to your father, alone?" Adonis' tone is friendly but neutral, he 
doesn't want to pressure Julian either way; he can have his son's company,
or not, as suits him.

Jovian walks slowly, hands behind his back, not looking too eager 
to choose a destination and letting a few steps of space form 
between himself and his father and half-brother.. As he moves 
toward the casket, Jovian will hang behind, awaiting Julian's answer to
Daeon's inquiry.

Julian's attention has been focused on the casket, and he seems at first
not to have heard Adonis. Then he looks at both of his sons and says, "If
you wish, you may accompany me. At  such a time, each man is alone whether
someone stands by him or not."

Adonis nods once briskly and immediately shifts his gaze to Jovian, 
one eyebrow raised in invitation. Jovian nods silent agreement, and 
automatically takes his place - one step back, one step to the left. 
Those with a bit of Fire will recognize his stance and placement as that 
of a ceremonial bodyguard, if the idea of the man in the white-enameled 
armor needing such a thing isn't too ludicrous.

Perhaps aware that he sounded too cold, Julian continues, "If he is sane,
I will introduce you to Dworkin." A glimmer of what might be relief 
slightly smooths the creases around the dragonman's eyes. That, his hint 
of relaxation seems to say, answers *one* question at least.

Adonis takes up a position alongside Jovian on the distaff side to their
father. Although he doesn't speak, his manner is relaxed and hopefully
Jovian feels some air of companionship, sandwiched between his father and
brother, albeit the father one pace ahead. Adonis is hoping julian will
drop back the pace but suspects his father's too engrossed to notice the
separation between them.

If the Chaosi were looking to the younger generation to find weakness,
Brennan is having none of it.  His hands still in that pose of
nigh-insufferable confidence at his belt, he descends the stairs with all
the pride of a rightful prince, his coat hanging from his shoulders like a
cloak of honor.  His head is high, as befits a commander of the conquering
army, and if any in particular choose to stare him in the eyes, Brennan
meets it with a gaze like emerald icepicks.

He had already made his decision while Benedict was speaking above.

His first visit is to the red-headed lady of Bleys' and Fiona's
acquaintance, and those who know him well might detect an echo of
Bleys' opinion on the subject-- this will happened eventually, so it
may as well be now.

Presuming that Bleys is already there, and that Fiona is not yet
(because it is unlikely that Fiona's stride is faster than Brennan's,
unless she sprinted for distance) Brennan approaches them and stands to
the side of Bleys, facing the lady of red hair.  His thumbs are hooked in
his belt loops.  He does not speak, presuming she and Bleys are
conversing, but waits until his silent presence is noticed.

Brennan is real subtle like that.

Fiona is indeed lagging somewhat behind Brennan. Bleys is the first to
greet the flamboyant lady, droopily festooned in black, and she extends a
gloved hand to him, as if she expects him to kiss it. He settles for
bowing over it, and she speaks, from behind her veil: "Bleys. It's good to
see that you're not en*tire*ly dead to filial piety."

"How are you, Mother?" the redheaded prince asks, relinquishing her hand.

"As well as can be expected, under the circumstances." Clarissa brings a
square of black lawn out of her sleeve and touches it to her nose,
sniffling. "Today has been ... very difficult."

She turns to Brennan and embraces him in a cloud of black lace and
perfume. Because he is a son of Amber, and strong, Brennan does not gag.
"My poor, dear, fatherless boy. How are you?" she asks, pulling back from
the embrace and holding him at arm's length, the better to survey how he's
bearing up under the tragedy.

Brennan allows the inspection for a moment with an attitude of very
silent suffering, as though remembering some detail long glossed over in
memory, before ending by taking her hand and bowing over it as Bleys had.
Beneath her veil, Clarissa smiles, flattered. "We hadn't spoken in nearly 
two hundred years, grandmother," he says quietly.  "But you, I missed, and 
I am sorry for your loss."

She dabs at her eyes with the handkerchief again.  "Thank you, darling.
And I am sorry for all of yours."  She squeezes his hand affectionately
before she lets it go.

With an effort of Herculean restraint, Brennan suppresses the urge to
shrug expansively.  It should be noted that there is nothing of a
handkerchief, and certainly no dabbing at his eyes to dry tears over
Brand's passing into the darkness.

His eyes the tilt toward Bleys, and his head swivels to follow.
"Bleys.  I haven't seen you in an even longer time."  He extends his
right hand in greeting.  

Bleys takes the hand with a slight bow. "I'm glad to see you in one piece,
nephew."

"I'm glad to be in one piece, actually, although I doubt this is how
any of us planned it."  It looks like Brennan might be about to say
something more, but something-- probably Clarissa's presence-- changes his
mind for the moment. Bleys, too, seems to be holding his words against a 
more private and less maternal moment. Brennan gives a half shrug and a 
slight cock of the head to one side, saying, "We'll talk later."  

If Fiona has joined them by that time, he will repeat his greeting to
Fiona and, if allowed, take her hand as he had Clarissa's.

Fiona has arrived as well. She accepts the honor with a smile, and says
merely, "Brennan," before being taken up in her mother's embrace.

 (And then he'll take stock of the rest of the immediate crowd, which I
believe includes Aisling and this Madoc character.)

Madoc looks at Aisling, glances at Clarissa, and back at his daughter.
Only Aisling and Cloudeater can see him roll his eyes.  "Aisling?  You're
..." He takes a step towards her, awkwardly.  "How.."  He tries a third
time.  "Are you well?  Who is your companion?"

This impinges on Aisling's attention, but she gives little sign of the
vast amusement she's feeling...  A sidelong glance, and the corner of her
mouth quirks up wickedly in a private response to Madoc's eye roll.

Aisling is also for a moment caught between states...  And then she steps
forwards and into his arms.  Hugging may not be a thing of Chaosites, but
it has been six years by her time, and he is her father, and they can
always blame this (as so many other things) on the bastard taint of
order...  She just needs to feel that he is there.  Her emotional armor
showing gaping cracks for the second time, she leans her head against his
neck, eyes closed, and murmurs, "Madoc. ...  I am so glad the black rain
did not get you."  She sighs softly and remains there for the space of a
few breaths, breathing in the scent of him once more, letting the moment
be for as long as she can, for when thoughts of the future intrude they
bring with them the beginnings of tears, and yet eventually she must draw
back for all things come to an end.

Madoc is still in the way of one not used to showing his emotions. 
Aisling can almost touch the relief and surprise he feels at her
unexpected presence.

She blinks, and grins, and it's like there was an audible click as she
pulls her facade back together and the sparkle in her eyes is merely pride
at introducing the giantess.  "This is Cloudeater, my affine, whom I won
on the field of battle today.  Cloudeater, this is Count Madoc, my
father." Turning to Madoc, she continues, remarking, "There are things we
need to discuss."

"Greetings Cloudeater, you have as your lord the finest daughter a Count
could have.  I am glad she is well served."

It's his party; she'll leave it up to him to have gauged his companions
and to go about disentangling the two of them from the group in the most
appropriate manner.

Madoc nods, and asks her about the battle.  As she responds she notices
that his hands are moving, as if they were drawing figures in the air.  He
does not seem to be paying much attention to her words.

"What have you heard so far?"  She observes him, and then continues with a
shallow analysis of the battle, keeping up a stream of ignorable words
until the moment he is done and returns his attention to her.  Along the
lines of "The objective of the Amberites was to keep any Chaos forces from
getting past them down the Black Road for a certain period of time.  I am
unsure if they suceeded entirely, as I was trapped above the clouds for a
large section near the end of the battle, but previous to that they had
managed.  Benedict coordinated the battle on the side of the Amberites,
and leading the forces were blah blah blah etc."

Lilly smoothes the top of her hair to assure nothing is out of place. Like
usual, her ponytail is still holding tight. The long black hair hangs long
down her back. She then inspects her clothing. Right now she would love
something freshly laundered but that was not an option. Somehow she
managed to remain relatively clean, perhaps it was the rain. The simple
style she wore, a wrap shirt and trousers with high black boots, all done
in colors of the earth, was certainly not that of a Lady of any court. But
it suited her all the same. As always, her blade was at her side.

Upon noticing the attention of the young moonriders, Lilly decides she is
not quite ready to persue a conversation with Moonriders of any age.
Instead she heads towards the bar as well. Something to drink might do her
well right now. Besides, she thought perhaps there was something to learn
from Aunt Flora. Her father did afterall tuaught her diplomacy earlier.

Coming up beside her Aunt, she awaits an appropriate moment to speak to
her. "Good Day Aunt Flora. I do not believe we have been properly
introduced. I am Lilly daughter of Benedict." She bows slightly, trying
ever so hard to be gracious.

Flora smiles benevolently at Lilly.  "I'm pleased to meet you formally at
last." To one of the dragons: "A cup of punch for my dear young niece,
please."

The dragon ladles a cup of punch for Lilly. The cup is made of crystal;
it's the sort of thing Lilly might have expected to see at a very fancy
affair at the castle where she grew up.  The liquid is multicolored:
purple and orange and blue and black, with a reflective sheen, as if it
were oily. Flora seems to be drinking hers without harm, though.

While the dragon is ladling up the punch, Flora leans over and whispers,
"The Moonriders seem to be quite interested in you, dear. I'm sure they're
drawn by your beauty, but methinks they are equally enthralled by how well
your father's daughter wields her blade." 

At the mention of beauty, Lilly looks a bit embarrased. She has never
really thought herself to be beautiful. As a matter of fact she had always
wished to look more like the others of Tecys. Once her ability with her
blade is mentioned though, well, then she nods along in agreement.

She thanks the bartender for a the punch and takes a small, ladylike sip
before continuing the conversation with her aunt. "Indeed. I was aware of
their stares. What can you tell me of them? I have been told very little
by my father." [Assuming the drink is palatable... ] Lilly takes another
sip from her cup clearly interested in anything her aunt has to say.
The punch tastes kind of like orange juice -- no, hot chocolate -- no,
whiskey -- no, coffee -- no, milk ....

"Your father defeated an army of them single-handedly at the Pass into
Arden, they say, although I wasn't there. I was away in Rebma; Father
didn't think it was safe for me, you know. The Moonriders are all
terrified of your father, and they may well be terrified of you. Men are
like that," says Flora. "Your father never mentioned you, you know.
Probably trying to keep you safe from the little -- well, I suppose he's
His Majesty now. Men are like that too."

Lilly smiles kindly at her aunt, "I'm afraid my experience with the opposite 
sex is limited. They tend to underestimate my ability with a blade, whcih in 
turn leaves me with no choice but to show them the error of their thinking. 
I believe I may *scare* them off." This is simply a statement. In no way is 
Lilly bragging, joking, or trying to be cheeky.

"As for my father... I believe he does nothing without reason, though the 
reason are seldom obvious. Perhaps as I become better acquainted with all 
things Amber, his motivations shall become clearer." It was good to know 
that her father thought she might need protection from the family. Clearly 
there was not trust between these siblings. Knowing that small fact might 
prevent naivety from getting the better or her.

Flora smiles. "Your father is a very clever man, dear. It's too bad he's
not to be King. As for the opposite sex, well, you have time to learn about
that. The first 500 years are just for practice, anyway."

Lilly nods. She had never really given thought to the longevity of her 
family members. If the first 500 years had merely been practice for Flora, 
she couldn't help but wonder just exactly how old she was. Compared to this 
Aunt of hers, she was little more then an infant.

Flora looks at the line of mourners forming up to pay respects to the coffin
on the dais. "Shall we say our goodbyes to Father?"

"I suppose that is in order." Lilly did not bother to mention that she had 
never met the man. Her only experience with him was the heavenly encounter 
at the war's end. Saying good bye now would be odd.

As she and Flora make their way to the dais, Lilly will watch the other 
mourners. She is trying to determine if there is are cutoms for dealing with 
the dead here in Chaos that she should be practicing. It also occurs to her 
to follow Aunt Flora. Partially as a show of respect but mostly because of 
Flora's diplomatic skills. She is trying to be careful not to attract 
overdue attention to herself and/or embarass her father in any way.

Jovian and presumably Daeon [we'll retcon if not] follow Julian to the
dais where Oberon's casket sits. There is a small, shallow stairway up to
where the wagon and casket lie. A shrunken hunchback stands beside the
wagon. As the trio approach the dias, Adonis' eyes are on Dworkin.

Julian mounts the stairs and stands next to the casket for a long moment,
reaching out to touch it with a white-gloved hand. His face is so
completely impassive that it bespeaks significant emotion.

Jovian stands at something like parade-rest, his face unreadable. 
He regards the casket with its draped Unicorn banner impassively, 
though there is something about the way he takes in that sigil that 
perhaps would not have been there before he saw her firsthand. His 
gaze shifts between it and his father. There is a sense about him of
someone not exactly feeling something, but feeling that he *ought* to be
feeling something. Like most of his generation, he is in the emotionally
adrift position of one who is there to honor a man he never knew.

Adonis takes position across the casket from Jovian. Like him, Adonis
never met Oberon, though recent events have made him wonder whether he did
'know' him on some spiritual level. He reaches under the banner, feeling
the grain of the casket. He's a little disappointed the casket's closed;
he would have liked to have seen the Dead King's face but he has nothing
to say. Neither are probably aware of it but Dworkin might realise he's
really watching his father and brother closely.

Before he can lose himself in his thoughts, Dworkin speaks to him. "Julian,
 my dear boy, come here. Your father had some last words for you,
if you survived this long." Dworkin pauses. "And you're sane, of course."
He leans forward. "Are you?"

Julian's long-suffering eyebrow manages to stay in place by sheer force of
will. "I believe so, yes, but I am beginning to wonder."

"Come here, then." And Julian does. 

Adonis takes advantage of Julian's brief involvement with Dworkin to
turn his attention to Jovian, staring into his brother's eyes, willing him
to catch them. When [assuming] Jovian does so, Adonis smiles reassuringly.
He pats the coffin slowly twice before turning as the whispering ends.

Jovian responds to the smile with a tight little smile of his own, the
'same-as-always' smile one might use when an honest answer to a polite
'how are you?' would be undiplomatic. Adonis' friendly gesture to the
coffin earns another Julianic eyebrow workout from his brother, taken
perhaps at half speed, with a polite question in the bright green eyes.

The hunchback stands on tiptoes, and when that proves insufficient to 
whisper in Julian's ear, he pulls the younger man bodily over and down 
to a height at which Dworkin can do so. For a few moments, he speaks 
into Julian's ear, then pulls back and says, "Do you understand?"

Julian straightens and nods. "I do. And I shall."

Dworkin beams. "Absolutely wonderful!"  He looks at the two men behind
Julian.  "And these strapping lads are?"

Julian gestures at each of his sons in turn. "My son, Sir Jovian, and my
other son, Sir Adonis.  This gentleman is Dworkin Barimen." It does not
seem coincidental that Julian, with his polished manners, presented his
sons to Dworkin.

Jovian, who had been puzzling at the exchange, puts his best 
Conclave face on and bows deeply to the hunchback whom his 
father holds in such respect. "At your service," he responds 
simply, in pleasant but even tones.

Again, possibly only Dworkin notices the millisecond irritated flick of
the eyes at Julian at the use of the honorific before Adonis' name but it
goes by too quickly to pass comment. Adonis does not bow but steps forward
offering his hand. His body-language is that of someone unsure whether to
clasp hands with a respected acquaintance or bodily hug a profoundly loved
relative. He does not know who Dworkin is but he most definitely does know
he's deeply significant.

Dworkin accepts the hand-clasp; his fingers are gnarled and his skin is
weathered and loose at the same time. He's got a surprisingly strong grip
for such an ancient geezer though, and when he pulls Adonis into a
kinsman-like embrace, he almost knocks Adonis off-balance. Momentarily
surprised, after a moment's pause Adonis quickly responds with an equally 
feirce embrace. Anyone would think the two long-lost lovers.
"Do we know each other?" he whispers in Adonis' ear.
Jovian's expression tightens as he suppresses a snort of laughter, but
just barely. It is evident that this is a well-practiced skill.

"I...I feel so..." Adonis gasps back, "...though I don't think we've
met."

Once Adonis has his breath back, he takes the opportunity for one more
question, pitched loud enough for Julian and Jovian but no one else.
"Master B...Dworkin..., do you mourn King Oberon's death or celebrate his
life's acheivement?"

Dworkin looks at Adonis as if he were a promising fourth-form student whom
he was assessing for suitability for O-level coursework. "Why, both, of
course," he says. "I don't quite know what I shall do without him yet. But
these troubles too shall pass. It always seems darkest before the dawn,
you know -- except here, of course."

He looks as if he is speaking as much to Julian as to Adonis.

Though Jovian keeps his peace, he regards Adonis' question with a 
faintly bemused expression - and Dworkin's answer with a slight nod,
as if it was expected. At Dworkin's reference to the closeness between
himself and Oberon, wheels start turning behind the dragonman's eyes.

"If I may ask, please," he ventures in as perfectly neutral a tone as
possible, "how did you come to know his majesty?"

"Well, very well," says Dworkin, "I lived in Amber for a long time. I was
your father's teacher," and he grins at Julian, who has apparently passed
his O-levels and may even be admitted to A-level courses. "He'll be missed
terribly, of course, but that's what he would've wanted, you know."

Julian is watching the entire exchange with some interest; whether he has
a handle on the exchange of questions or the hugging is not trivially
ascertainable.

Jovian nods and is silent for a respectful moment before venturing 
again. "Was the trip down from Amber difficult, Dworkin? I didn't 
like the look of that storm front - I'm glad to see you came through it
safely."

"Pish! Tosh! It was nothing. A little reorganization of the universe never
did anybody any harm, and it did some people a lot of good." Dworkin leans
over and says conspiratorially, "I'm one of them."

"Glad to hear it!" Jovian's answering smile is warm and entirely 
sincere. "You're pleased with the reorganization then? And more to 
the point, how does the universe seem to be taking it?" Adonis smiles and 
exchanges a glance with Julian but doesn't interrupt.
Julian is just watching the interchange. One might think he'd never seen
one of his sons pump a universal power for information before.

"Oh, as well as she ever does. I'd say it did her a lot of good too." Adonis' 
eyes narrow at the use of the feminine article; perhaps a smile creases his 
lips.  He scans the crowd and looks to Julian. "Where's your brother 
Corwin? Did he ever turn up with your father's bauble?"

Julian answers, "Corwin should be joining us in a few minutes. It was
Brand who turned up with the Jewel -- when Caine killed him, it fell into
the Abyss with his body. But the Unicorn returned it to us." He hesitates
a moment before adding, "She gave it to Random.  We have all sworn
allegiance to him."

Adonis does nothing to remind his father and brother or even betray
that he remembers himself that not quite 'all' have sworn.

Dworkin alternates between scowling and delight at Julian tells his tale,
ending with some disgruntlement at the identity of the new King. "She
always did like him," he mutters petulantly under his breath. "No
accounting for taste, and all that."

"I like him," interjects Adonis, "...and I think he will prove a good
King; he understands...people and, when the time comes, will willingly
make the sacrifice." Dworkin gives Adonis an odd look, as if he has
given the right answer to the wrong question.

Jovian seems to consider for a moment whether to respond to that, 
and in the end merely nods acknowledgment and keeps his own 
counsel. "So, will you be returning to Amber with us after, or going 
on your own?" he tries a moment later, in the neutrally sociable 
tones of someone inquiring about dinner plans.

"Depends on whether Amber is returning to me, I should think," Dworkin
responds equally sociably. "I have places to be and people to go to; we
shall see, we shall see."

Jovian works for a moment on teasing out the meaning of that response, 
his forehead twitching slightly in suppression of the Julianic eyebrow 
workout. "Amber always comes to one eventually, from what I can tell,"
he responds, a vocal shrug.

"Yes, or something like it," says Dworkin, as if Jovian has said something 
clever.

A line of mourners wishing to pay respects the casket has formed behind
Julian and his sons.

"Mmm! We are holding people up," Adonis comments to Julian [whose
doubtless only waiting for his sons] before kissing Dworkin briefly on
the brow. "Goodbye...kinsman, for now. We must talk again soon."

"Of course, of course," says Dworkin, patting Adonis on the shoulder, and 
perhaps it occurs to one or more of you to wonder what 'soon' means to Dworkin.

*Kinsman.* This earns Daeonis both a twist at the corner of the mouth
*and* a Julianic eyebrow.

"I'm sure we'll see each other again soon, Dworkin." Jovian clasps the
hunchback's hand again, meets his eyes with a supportive, sympathetic
sort of look, and turns to make way.

Julian also give Dworkin a clasp and squeeze, and then the three of you 
descend from the dais on the side opposite from that on which you stepped off.

The line will take quite some time because Julian and his sons, who were 
the first to take the dais, have a long discussion with the hunchbacked 
dwarf who is waiting with the casket, as if he were next-of-kin. Flora 
leans over and whispers: "That's Dworkin. He gave us all our Trumps when we 
were younger."

Lilly nods her head. This man fascinated her on some level. She was pleased 
one who knew him was with her for her introduction. Hopefully they would 
handle the asking of wether or not he was sane. Such a question seemed 
amazingly awkward to Lilly.

As the line moves forward, each of the mourners-cum-celebrants stops at the 
casket. Some look as if they are sad; others are pleased; still others look 
as if they'd like to open the casket to be sure the old man is actually in 
there. They also all stop and speak to Dworkin. Some of them speak for 
several exchanges, although none as long as Julian and his sons.

The variety of "people" in the line, and in the room, is very wide. Most of 
them are in something approaching bipedal human form, but Lilly observes 
the way that some of them move and suspects that such forms are not native 
to all of them. One should expect no less while in Chaos Lilly thought to 
herself. It seemed that the only true faux pas she could make here was a lack 
of judgment. Upon realizing that, she relaxed somewhat.

As Lilly is looking around, she sees her father in conversation with a 
dark-haired young woman in black, whom she does not recognize.
Her eyes linger a bit too long. There was far too much she did not know 
about her father. He seemed to have a strong connection to chaos. Aisling, 
afterall, was supposedly something like her great neice. Deciding to give 
into curiosity she turns to her Aunt.

"Excuse me Aunt Flora, would you possibly be able to tell me who the woman 
is my father is speaking to?" Again her eyes linger there as she awaits the 
answer.

"I don't recognize her," says Flora. Then she looks again. "There was some
talk of a woman from -- the other side, who had joined our cause. She's
supposed to be dark-haired. Her name is Dara, and Llewella said she was
your father's granddaughter."

Brennan's eyes sweep over the accumulating crowd, he does
some mental arithmetic and concludes that while he might be tied with
Madoc, only Clarissa could be in a better position to make introductions
and then only if she knows Aisling.  In either case, no one else is
stepping up to the plate, so, after Clarissa inflicts what torment she
will on Fiona...and Fiona pulls back, trying not to look too long-
suffering. "I'm glad to see you're holding up so well, Mother."

"Perhaps I should make some introductions.  This," he says, turning to
Aisling, "Is Dame Aisling, Blood of Benedict."  His body language
indicates that he expects Aisling to profer a hand, as did Clarissa and
Fiona, and if she does, he will bow over it as before-- inspecting the
handiwork of his bandage on the way. Aisling is smiling at Clarissa, 
her body directed such that it may be no one even notices Brennan's 
expectations of her. In turn, he introduces, "Prince
Bleys, son of Oberon; the Princess Fiona, daughter of Oberon; the Lady
Clarissa, my grandmother."  [If there's a more formal or correct
nomenclature for Clarissa that Brennan would know, he would use that
instead.]
[Her Eternal Majesty, Queen Clarissa, Defender of the Southlands,
Commander of the Bronze Legions, and Sorceress Prime]

That leaves only Madoc, to whom Brennan finally turns and tries out
Benedict's etiquette.  "But I do not believe I have made your
acquaintance, sir.  I am Sir Brennan, son of Brand.  Who are you?"

Madoc replies, "Why, then, we are related.  I am Madoc, Count of Madoc, of
the blood of Prince Benedict of Amber.  You know, it seems, my daughter."
Somehow this last sentence sounds ... disapproving, as if you were an
undesirable suitor.

When Madoc mentions his heritage, Brennan gives him another look up
and down, now comparing the man in front of him to the Benedict that
he has already met.  He also notes, but does not overtly respond to
the disapproval in Madoc's voice, saying, "Indeed.  Although we are
recently met, she is a formidable ally."

Since he now knows who Madoc is, he also extends his hand in greeting as
he had to Bleys, though not with the same familiarity.  "Perhaps Prince
Benedict will favor us with his presence."

Aisling sketches a graceful bow to Clarissa (unless the Eternal Queen
cares to prooffer her hand, in which case Aisling will be delighted to bow
over it) and smiles.  "Queen Clarissa.  I am honored to meet you.  I offer
you my sympathy for the loss of your son and of Oberon.  I only spoke with
the king for about 20 minutes of my life, this morning, but in that time
he remembered you fondly."

"Did he?" Clarissa says, and smiles behind the veil. Bleys and Fiona
manage to find interesting things to look at on the floor and across the
chamber. To all appearances, Brennan is oblivious. 
But, you never know-- that perpetual glint in his eyes might be a
glint of highly amused laughter, on the inside.  Deep, deep inside.

Aisling bows her head in assent, her watery little metaphorical antennae
quivering meanwhile as she tries to figure out what exactly she's stepped
in between the redheads and their mother, and what kind of damage control
will be necessary.  Are they looking away to avoid seeing Aisling get
ripped apart by Clarissa's fury, or by her interest?  Did she just hand
Clarissa ammunition for some sort of ongoing inter-generational feud?  Do
they merely regret a further expansion of Clarissa's ego?  Was it the
reference to Brand?  Is any friendliness shown to Clarissa something
she'll have to overcome with Bleys and Fiona later?  etc.  Of course, on
the outside she dauntlessly glitters on.

"But your father and I have known each other for many years, dear," she
says to Aisling. "And he never saw fit to introduce you until now." She
looks at Madoc. "Naughty, naughty, naughty."

Madoc's horns flatten slightly and darken. "The time never seemed right,
Clarissa, until this unfortunate family reunion."

"Regardless," Aisling says, spreading her hands with a smile to everyone
in the group, smoothing over the trouble, "We have all met now.  And I
must admit, your majesty, I am quite interested in hearing how you came to
be here, at such a climactic time."  She does look interested, with no
hint of suspicion...  And there's a sidelong sparkling glance to Brennan,
to let him know she still remembers him.

Brennan gives a small smile at this.  He touches her arm briefly with the
back of his hand, and, turning to her, says, "Actually, I had not the
honor of meeting my grandfather before his death, and so I never had the
chance to form a first impression of him.  I would be quite interested to
hear yours, if you would."  His attention is on her.

Aisling smiles slightly, acknowledging him with a diagonal tilt/nod of her
head, her attention remaining mainly on the queen.  The message conveyed
is, "I have heard you and would be delighted to answer you as soon as I
have heard from the sainted Clarissa, who you no doubt unintentionally
interrupted." 

The "redheads who have refused to say how they got here" quota may rise to
two, but damned if Aisling's going to assist.  She sees precisely what
Brennan's doing (again), she's marked it, and she's still on full
diplomatic offense.  :)

Clarissa looks at the two youngsters indulgently; she actually seems quite
taken with Aisling, and her fondness for her youngest's baby boy is also
clear. "But where else would I be, dear child?" she asks. "To those with
certain sensitivities ..." and she breaks off, and smiles at Madoc,
showing lots of pearly white teeth.

They look sharper than is quite normal for Amberites.

Madoc inclines his head regally at Clarissa with a cold arched-brow look
that neither Aisling nor Brennan has any trouble interpreting as "you're
pushing it".

Aisling smiles, inclines her head a bit to Clarissa, and takes the out that
Brennan has so kindly offered her to redirect attention so that Clarissa
can't pick at Madoc anymore.  She turns to Brennan and, remembering Oberon
with a thoughtful look in her eye, starts, "I believe my meeting with the
man can never be separated from the time in which it happened...  He had
determined to sacrifice his life to save his kingdom, and it was in the
mindset of bringing an eternal life to end that he spoke to me.  He seemed
sad, and yet accepting; touching on the happy memories of his past and
hopes for the future only to emphasize to himself that what he was doing
was worth it all.  He was, even in contemplation, deafeningly powerful and
charismatic...  And more merciful than I had expected," she grins
momentarily.  "Yet I cannot say that I truly got to know him."  She halts,
glances around...  Everyone here knew Oberon better than her, with the
exception of Brennan, and she wonders how they react.

Clarissa seems genuinely fond of him, or as genuinely fond of anyone a
really shallow person can be.  It is clear that Bleys' reputation for
grandiloquence derives from his mother.

Your immediate guess is that Fiona has recorded your every word for her
permanent files and that Bleys has decided how to file you.

Madoc just listens.

Brennan absorbs this as best he can.
"What *did* he hope for the future, then?"
 
Aisling raises her eyebrows a bit.  "He was a very practical man...  He did
not seem desirous to hinder the future with expectations from the past, and
I do not claim to be a worthy interpreter of his words.  All that was
perfectly clear to me was that he wanted Amber to go on."  She tilts her
head slightly, "Yet did you not hear in the clouds this afternoon his
promotion of unity?"  Another scan of the watchers ensues, because she's
certain Bleys and Fiona didn't get a message that started with
"grandchildren" (and she doesn't want to wonder right now why she did) and
she wishes to know if Madoc and Clarissa have heard of this yet.

Fiona says "Father..." and is interrupted by Bleys, who continues her
sentence "always knew how to get the last word."

Aisling glances at Fiona to see if she's miffed, willing to change her
expression to something faintly supportive (like a slightly raised eyebrow
at Bleys) if so...  In Fi's position, she would have been miffed, unless
there was something deeper going on.
Brennan is watching for that, too, but the impression I got is that
the finishing each other's sentences (or him finishing her sentences)
was something of an accepted brother-sister act.  
It seemed very natural and neither Clarissa nor her daughter seemed
surprised or miffed by it.  Likely Brennan is correct.

"Really," says Clarissa, and it's not clear whether that was a question or
a statement. She focuses her attention on her surviving son and asks, "Pray
tell, son, what were his last words to you, then?"

Bleys laughs once, loudly, in a way that makes you wonder if he has the
concept of lower volumes.  "More than he usually did about his plans, that
was certain.  He told us something of the cause of the recent shadow storm
and something of his personal displeasure with us as a collection of
offspring.  The last part wasn't new, of course."

Fiona says, "He also blessed his children, which is a not inconsiderable
boon."  Bleys nods at this.

Looking between the two redheaded siblings (though mainly to Fiona),
Aisling asks curiously, "What effect does his blessing have?"

Fiona smiles, a melancholy look at Aisling "Unknown."

Bleys replys, " We lived.  I could make a case either way for that coming
from Oberon's Benison.  Long term?  Ask me in some other place, and a few
hundred years.  I'm sure I'll have a theory."  He smiles at you as if you
had asked a very clever question indeed.

Aisling chuckles quietly at his Benison sentence-- he's hit on it, it's
black/ambivalent humor that gets her.  She returns his smile, appreciating
his humor, but perhaps he's good enough to see that meanwhile she's wary of
the apparent big payoff from a rather small question.  If it means he's
filed her somewhere good, that's good...  But if he's setting her at ease
to better attack her later, that's bad.  Reports have it that he doesn't
operate that way, but even so.

The time the conversation did not focus on her, Aisling was able to get a
good look around the room, taking a reading on Amberite location and
apparent social health, and Chaosite power flow.

Brennan will stick around for any forthcoming answer to this,
especially if it's short, but his eyes have been drifting to the
casket, and after that answer, he'll look at it again saying, "Well,
I think it's time that I paid my respect to the grandfather I never
knew."

Madoc nods and Clarissa catches her breath.  Her handkerchief disappears
beneath her veil again.

Then, taking Clarissa's hands, he brings them up and kisses them in a
grandsonly way to make his departure from her.  He lingers a moment to
see if either of Fiona or Bleys, or Aisling, will walk with him, but
either way, he's going.

Fiona and Bleys are going back towards Benedict.  Madoc offers Clarissa his
arm.

Since we now know where Aisling is going, and Brennan notices that no
one is going to walk with him, he discretely fails to notice Madoc
offering his arm to Clarissa.  

He visibly stops, struck by a thought, and though he has already bid
her good-bye, offers to escort Clarissa to casket.

"Of course, my dear," she says, and accepts his arm, without relinquishing
Madoc's. "Look, there are two of our kinswomen," indicating Lilly and Flora
(who are, as you may recall, close to the head of the line). "Shall we
greet them?"

She doesn't wait for a reply before moving forward, not quite quickly
enough that either Madoc or Brennan is caught off-guard. Madoc's
expression, if Brennan looks over to catch it, is somewhat resigned.

Julian looks around the room, and something catches his attention. "I must 
speak to Caine," he tells his sons. "You should not wait for me. I trust 
you to conduct yourself among our unfriends as befits Oberon's grandsons."

Adonis acknowledges Julian's words with a nod and a smile. As Julian
leaves, Adonis seems very pleased indeed, like someone who's had some
very good news indeed. He turns on his heel, surveying the chamber,
looking for people and places of interest.

"Well that went well! I need a drink!" He raises an eyebrow at Jovian.

"I transcended mere needing of a drink hours ago, bror," Jovian 
responds, his tone grimly humorous, or humorously grim. His gaze 
tracks to the dragons at the punchbowl and locks on, and though 
he makes a good show of not looking too eager, he does slightly 
outpace his brother. Adonis chuckles as Jovian leads the way but
this would have been his next choice too, regardless of thirst. He's 
happy to be second to the drink as he wants to observe how the 
dragons receive his brother.

Upon approaching the punchbowl, he again bows from the neck - a 
well practiced thing, evidently - to the dragons before reaching for a 
cup. Automatically he reaches for contact with Canareth.

//Canareth, please tell...oh wait. Probably won't work. Never mind.//

"Good day, noble dragons," he tries again, aloud. "Well met, 
though I could wish for happier circumstances." While his tone is 
respectful, it could as easily invite an introduction as precurse one.
Adonis watches from behind his brother; eyeing the dragons with interest
tinged with caution. Close observers might notice a set to his jaw not
apparent before; he no longer seems as relaxed.

The first dragon looks at you, just long enough for the moment to become
awkward, and speaks.  His head, on top of his serpentine neck, recedes
without becoming any more distant.  He smells of wet leather and gin.  It
is clear that these dragons are not here in some ways that are very
important to the continuing three-dimensionality of most other beings in
proximity to the punchbowl.

"We saw you fly and fight, young dragonman.  At first we were offended, but
then we considered that this place is like no other.  My companion wishes
to know if you are gods, brought by The Oberon.  I have simpler questions,
merely wanting to know more of the one who conveyed The Oberon to this
place.  We saw you speak unto him."

It is also clear that Dragons are not particularly polite.  At least not
this one.

"I am of the blood of The Oberon," Jovian nods in return and adds - 
with the briefest glance toward Daeonis - "To some, yes, we are 
gods." Adonis stands a yard behind Jovian and out to one side; he acknowledges
his brother's glance with the briefest of nods, almost a salute, to the
silent dragon. Jovian continues...

The dragons both seem to move their heads closer without any change in real
proximity.  It is unclear if they know that this behavior is disconcerting
to nearby humans.

 "As for Canareth and me, it is easy to misunderstand our 
relationship, watching us from afar. He is not mere beast of burden 
or war machine to me. He is my partner, companion and friend. We 
work and fight as a team. It is so with all of the dragon-man pairs 
you saw."

Throughout, his tone is even, factual, without a hint of 
defensiveness. It is as if he expected to have to explain his 
relationship with his dragon at this gathering, perhaps several times.
He seems to take Benedict's strategy to heart of ignoring a 
question and letting it go away while soemthing else controversial 
is discussed.

"We came to drink!" Adonis comments at last.

The Dragon looks at Adonis as if he were a corgi who had unexpectedly asked
for a gin and tonic.  After a moment it decides to answer you rather than
ask how you can talk.  "Then we should all be glad that refreshment was
provided.  I have heard that you have a new King even now.  Tell me of it."

"It is true," Jovian nods. "The Jewel of Judgment has passed to a 
new ruler. No doubt you, and all the allies, adversaries and 
associates of old, will be hearing a great deal about and from him 
soon." He takes a longish sip at his punch, letting the dragons 
react as they will to that.

"Others, perhaps, shall, but my duty will soon be done.  My daughter will
care greatly about the existence of a new King, but for me it is merely
curiosity.  Your ways, little god-men, are excessively cruel to my people."

"Perhaps you would explain to me these cruelties, as you see 
them. Even a god would rather have friends than enemies if the 
cost is not too dear." Jovian's tone and expression are carefully 
schooled in this, to appear interested but not overly eager.

Adonis raises a julianic eyebrow when Jovian says 'god', raising a hand
to hide a smile but quickly regains  his composure and raises an point
of immediate interest for him. "You have...a daughter?"

The other dragon hisses at the first, who turns his attention to him.  If
they are talking to each other, it is only obvious in the low sub-sonics
that they both emit.

Adonis puts a hand to Jovian's shoulder while clinking goblets with his
second cupful. "Dragon's are subtle creatures, brother; it is unwise to
talk with them overlong." 

Adonis commenting on dragons to Jovian, of all people, earns a 
sidelong look, a Julianic eyebrow workout *and* a twist at the 
corner of the mouth - which has to be some kind of record. For half 
a moment the stare that says 'Is that so now, boyo?' shifts slightly 
out of focus. The next half-moment, Jovian spends in poorly 
suppressed laughter.

"Wonderful!" Adonis' eyes twinkle merrily; he's clearly happy to have
caused his brother mirth. "A lighter mood suits you; I think you should
take a holiday...soon." He looks round at the throng. "Are you hungry?
Kern ate on the battlefield but I think I could find room for more."

Jovian considers the idea of food carefully. "I'll tell you what, 
bror. I'll be happy to cover your back on an exploratory mission to 
the buffet - as long as you promise *not* to tell me what Kern ate 
on the battlefield." The smile at this is as lighthearted as before, 
but more inclusive.

"Agreed!" Comes the smiling rejoinder.

With her two escorts in tow [assuming Brennan stays with her; we'll retcon
otherwise], Clarissa cuts her way through the crowd, which parts almost
magically before her, towards her goal. Flora, perhaps realizing she is the
target, turns to face the older lady.

Brennan is not even close to being caught off-gaurd, by this.
He does look at all the people in line whom he is cutting in front of
with an expression that manages to be both stoic and satisfied at the
same time.

"Princess Florimel, I presume?" says Clarissa.

Flora smiles, and says, "You must be my father's widow, Queen Clarissa. I
recognize you from the portraits in the Castle."

Clarissa smiles, as if Flora were a student who had given the correct
answer in class. If this rankles Flora, neither Brennan nor Lilly can tell.

Flora says, "Your Majesty, may I present my niece, Lilly?"

Clarissa extends her gloved hand to Lilly, who notices that Clarissa has
six fingers.

Without hesitation, Lilly accepts the hand with a practiced curtsey. "Your 
majesty it is an honor." There is a short pause while she straightens her 
form. Then, in a softspoken yet clear voice Lilly continues, "I am Dame 
Lilly, Knight of the Order of the Ruby, Daughter of Prince Benedict of 
Amber. I am pleased to make your acquaitance."

Interesting. That is the one word forming over and over in Lilly's mind. 
There is so much to learn here. For two forces that are menat to be polar 
opposites, there certainly seems to be many undeniable connections between 
them. More and more Lilly was seeing this funeral; as a learning opprotunity 
and thus, was beginning to relax.

Brennan tries to catch Lilly's eye with a "This ought to be
interesting," look as he does the mental arithmatic and realizes,
again, he may be the person in the crowd who knows more people than
anyone else.

Clarissa perks slightly at the "daughter of Benedict" bit. "I'm pleased to
meet you, too, child." She gestures at the other members of her party. "My
grandson Brennan you already know, of course. This gentleman is Madoc, who
is also of the royal family, being a descendant of your father's."

Madoc bows, gracefully. Lilly notices that he has small horns on the top of
his head, mostly hidden by his hair. "I am pleased to meet you, kinswoman."
The horns twitch a little when he talks.

Lilly returns the bow with a graceful nod of her head. "As am I to meet 
you." Many questions swirl about Lilly's mind. It is odd to be among her 
father's descendants. Especially considering her age.

Brennan knows Lilly, of course.
He has not been formally introduced to Flora, but takes this as it,
given the circumstances and the company.  To Lilly, he gives a
sideways head-nod of pleasant greeting after a short interruption.  To 
Flora, he gives a polite bow-- a bow over the hand as he had done with
Clarissa and Fiona, if he is close enough.

After Brennan finishes acknowledging the woman, she allows her curiosity to 
come forth. Her eyes catch Madocs, "I am curious. Are their others of our 
lineage present? I would like to meet some of my kinsman." Her face remains 
nuetral. For Lilly this remains, for the moment, a purely intellectual 
curiosity.

"As you wish, Aunt Lilly.  My daughter is at the table, conversing with
those two Moonriders, and your grand-niece Dara is speaking with Prince
Benedict at the other end of the hall.  There may be others.  I had heard a
rumor that Merlin was around, but I haven't seen him."

"Of course, I also have more cousins here than I expected.  I am afraid
that I have not kept up on this new generation as I did with Grandfather's
brothers and sisters.  Can you tell me more of the cousins who accompanied
you?  Who is the nearly naked young man speaking to The Nameless Lord?"

"Most of the time, that would be Adonis," says Brennan.  He had been
idly eyeing both the upcoming casket, and the figure of Dworkin.  "One
of Julian's sons."

"It should be noted, however, that Julian calls him Daeon." Lilly adds. Her 
gaze shifting slightly she adds, "And the other gentleman, the one with the 
headgear, is his brother, Jovian. We are little more then acquaitances at 
this point so I am afraid there is not much more to tell."

Aisling gracefully takes her leave of the dispersing group, and deftly
weaves her way a short way through the crowd, to a "I am no longer anywhere
near or part of that group" position from which she can watch the room
pretty well.  She may have things to report to Benedict, as is her mission,
but damned if she's going to interrupt his talk with Dara...  And she hopes
the redheads have that much sense, too.  It's actually rather important to
her to keep an eye on how that discussion goes. From what you briefly see, 
formally.  Dara's arms are crossed and neither seems happy.

The redheads sweep past Benedict and Dara and reclimb the stairs.  They
arrive at the top seconds after Merlin arrives there and they pull him out
of the light and to one side and the three of them converse in a convenient
nook, or perhaps it is a cranny.  Perhaps this is the oft-discussed
Magician's Union Symposium on the Departing of Chaos for Amber.

Aisling will file this suspicion, right next to the suspicion that they're
asking "how's the universe holding up with Random at the prow", and keep an
eye out for the appearance of Corwin.  And there is a roomful of
lords of Chaos to name and observe, now that she has the time...  In
addition to observations for her other mission, keeping the Amberites
alive. 

Julian's lads are the only ones not with an Elder at the moment, so they're
in the greatest danger.  The Lords of Chaos who are listed on the Chaos
page are there.  The Lords Tor, Httk-Kthk, and The Nameless Lord are
standing together, talking with each other as if handicapping a horserace.
The Marshall of the Moonriders is done speaking to the Rebmans and is
having a word with an officer.  The young moonriders seem to be arguing
amongst themselves.  You notice a fluidity in the way they walk, as if they
normally move much, much more rapidly and are holding themselves back
somehow.  They are not as interested in Lilly now that she is with
Clarissa, Madoc, and Flora.  You catch a pair of them looking at you and
Cloudeater.

And she would dearly love to speak with the Moonriders or Dworkin,
and hopes she gets a chance, but meanwhile, there is a discussion she needs
to hold with Cloudeater.  

Standing by her side, Aisling addresses her, "My affine.  When this funeral
is done, I will set off with the Amberites towards their home.  Amber is a
--hard place, physically, not designed for life such as ours.  It is likely
that no other Chaosites will be there-- none without the taint of Order can
survive.  Lord Madoc will be able to magically adapt you so that you can
live there, but [mumbledymumbledy-- sorry, guys, but it occurred to me that
Cloudeater's bindings are hers to reveal].  Thus it may be uncomfortable
and lonely.  On the other hand, (she shrugs) perhaps you could remain
behind, in Chaos, with Madoc.  I will leave the choice to you, for it will
affect you most of anyone."  She watches the giant's face.  

She likes being a lord, and she could use Cloudeater in Amber, and she's
loathe to leave her at the mercy of Madoc's court, but then again she's a
solitary operator and is uneasy about accepting responsibility for the life
of an unknown being...  All told, she hopes Cloudeater will choose to come
with her, but she tries to leave the presentation and her expression neutral.

Cloudeater looks somewhat confused.  "It is *my* choice?  As you wish my
Lord, I shall choose.  I choose to accompany you, of course.  I made that
choice when I begged of you the boon of Lordship.  I trust in your
protection."

Aisling grins at her, something that goes beyond the sparkling into warmth.
 With that to take the place of words, she moves on, "Then it would be best
to decide on a form for you, to use in Amber.  You can shift forms, yes?
To something human?"  

With agreement, she will go on.  "You may have noticed that the humans come
in two varieties.  Flora, Fiona, and Lilly are female; Brennan, Random, and
Benedict are examples of males.  The distinction has to do with
reproduction; however, the main implications are what is expected of the
human.  Males tend to hold the power and issue commands.  Females are less
well-regarded.  The chief benefits of appearing female are that you are far
more likely to be underestimated, and protected by others; it is a form for
subtlety.  As a male, it would be socially acceptable for you to be more
direct, and to make use of physical force."  She pauses, discarding
countless more distinctions that pop to mind in an effort to make this
choice simple and unbiased, and then decides the standing explanation can
serve.  "Which variety do you think would be better suited to your strengths?"

"I know not, my lord, for I had no experience of differentiation until you
mentioned it.  I...am not the shapeshifter I was before you freed me, I
recall losing some of that.  Could I pick a form without either of these
weaknesses, like yours?"

Aisling looks a bit baffled, then tries to work around this.
"Unfortunately, this differentiation is very important to the humans, and
they will thus label you one way or the other if you look even remotely
like them.  It will be easier for you if you look more like them...  If you
have no particular preference, it would probably be better if you appeared
male; it would be more versatile.  Could you try to make yourself look
like..." she glances around, looking for good model, one who is visible,
and presuming he's over 5'11" settles on "Jovian?  It is perfectly
acceptable if you cannot imitate him closely; the shape and then the skin
color are most important."  And while Cloudeater attempts to change,
Aisling will keep a wide and strong lookout.

"I...will try, my lord."  And try he does.  He comes close.  He has the
shape, mostly.  And the coloration, mostly.  In a dim light he would pass,
but the coloration is uniform and the shape is all sharp angles and
polygons.  Your  best guess is that to Cloudeater, this is rather like what
she perceives about Jovian,

The only obvious failure is the foreignness of the concept of clothing.  It
is not that Cloudeater has none, it is that is a part of his shape.  Some
things you all might want to work on in an even more private setting.

Aisling looks at him thoughtfully, and nods, not displeased.  "You make a
creditable attempt, my affine.  However, there are complexities of the form
which I will have to explain to you elsewhere...  Much of the color of
these humans comes from non-living things they wear to cover their bodies,
and it is dangerous to remove these things in public.  Adonis comes closest
to the basic male form--only the brown flap he wears here is not a part of
him."  She shrugs.  "You may return to whatever form you think would be
best for this gathering."  

"I think I should practice wearing this one, if I am to wear it for a long
time.  As a new lord and a new affine, we can get away with much that would
otherwise be considered gauche.  The one you have me looking like, he is
not a Lord of Chaos or a god is he?  Will he be offended that I look just
like him?"

Aisling smiles.  "I suspect that he is not a Lord of Chaos or a god.  I
also suspect that to his eyes, the similarity between you two will not be
obvious. And do let me know if you must sacrifice much of
your ability to sense, or any other of your abilities, to take this
human-like form...  I would be foolish to direct you in such a way as to
lessen your ability to watch my back."  

Cloudeater grins.  "That is the other thing I will be learning about
wearing this shape."

Aisling grins back.  Does this thing have a sense of humor, after all?  She
wishes she knew how much of herself is reflected in him, if anything...
She hopes that she will be able to discourse with Madoc on this.

She hears anything he has to say, and again keeps a lookout while he shifts
(should he shift), and then they move off towards the buffet, for in
Aisling's opinion it would indeed be a mean thing to go to a funeral and
spurn the food.  Plus, it puts her closer to Jovian and Adonis...  She
intends to end up such that she is not in their sphere, but is close enough
to it that it would take little time or effort to get there.  She also
intends to pack away as much food as she can while appearing to be the soul
of decorum...  It's been a long day.  And she intends to appear open to
conversation and see if she cannot lure the young Moonriders or other
interested parties to her.

One of the Moonriders nudges another in the ribs and they step out in
unison, taking long, fluid steps that look as if they are thinking about
every least thing they do and always making the right choice.  It is a
silky motion that reminds you of dragons in flight.  It is uncanny the way
that they never have to step around anyone, as if people who did not move
managed to get out of their way.

The pair reaches you and Cloudeater.  Cloudeater seems quite disturbed by
their presence.  The leader of the pair speaks to you.
"We know the rules.  Your affine should be unafraid.  Here."  After a
moment the other one (Orlando Bloom) speaks.  "You are of Amber?  It
figures in our legends.  I did not believe in it until the Marshall bade us
come here."

She nods in acknowledgement, speaking to both, though more to the one she
is replying directly to.  "I am of Amber.  Your people figure also in our
legends.  For what reason has your Marshall brought you forth from them to
grace this funeral?"  Her tone is cordial, somewhat interested.

"Covenanted Duty and Ancient Obligation, Lady.  For us, Education.  He
means to send a message to the Prince, of course.  How did the Prince lose
his arm?  I have not heard that tale."

"A moment, first:  what are your names, that I may know with whom I converse?"

"Of course," says the second Moonrider.  "In our culture, a name is a
reminder of the story of a person, and people have as many names as they
have stories.  Which of my names you use for me tells as much about you as
it does about me.  I shall give you of Amber a very personal name of mine.
You may call me 'Dreams by Moonlight'".

"Is that we we shall tell them, then?," replies the first Moonrider with a
grin, of sorts.  "In that case I am 'Glides Below the Waves'".

"Beautiful names," she remarks openly.

"What name would you give us to use for you, my Lady?"

"I am generally called Aisling," she says with a little nod/bow.  She
glances momentarily over to Cloudeater, giving him a brief chance to
introduce himself if he chooses, but since they have not called for his
name she does not volunteer it, on the theory that if he's here he's able
to fend for himself.

Having received some answer from the two, and having bought time, she
continues, "I believe there are few who can spin that tale with full
knowledge.  Rumor, however, has it that Lintra, who is ancestor to several
here, and who he once cared about, betrayed him and took his arm before he
took her life."  She tilts her head, indicating readiness to hear, speaking
formally, "Would you put into words this message your Marshall intends to
convey?"

They nod at the story of Lintra.  Dreams replies first.  "If the message of
the Marshall were of a nature that could be conveyed in *words*, then he
would not be fit for the position of Marshall.  The message is the medium,
Lady."

Aisling inclines her head, finding the answer acceptable.

Glides replies more smoothly.  "The message is not dissimilar to one that
The Prince is presenting to all here.  Amber exists and has an eschelon of
power untapped and unknown heretofore to her enemies.  Our two camps are
like two cats with our fur puffed out to show our great size to our
enemies.  Here.  Where there is no telling what message is read by our
somewhat capricious hosts."

The thought 'they have cats?' crosses Aisling's mind, and moves off into
storage.

Dreams replies "A strange and subtle discussion without words or action,
but I appreciate the work of the opposing strategists.  I am sorry we did
not arrive soon enough to witness more of the battle."

"And yet it strikes me that your passage here, through the all-destroying
storm, holds tales of its own.  How is it that you joined up with the
funereal procession?"

"The War, Lady Aisling, was not fought solely for possession of this
one end of the Great Blood Road.  Deeds great and fell occurred in many
places, and not all danced in celebration of the Immanent Eschaton." says
Dreams. "The Funerary Caravan was our Ancient Obligation.  We have
ridden from the center to the ends this day, as we were obliged to do by a
treaty that perhaps a handful of people remember, and most of them are
in this room.  Such is the nature of permanency of a Moonrider promise."

Aisling does her best not to let any confusion show.  She hopes that
between the two of them, either Cloudeater or herself has enough alertness
to remember the word "eschaton" so they can look it up when they get to
Amber...  Years of Amber law books haven't prepared her for this.

On the surface, however, she appears smooth, and gracefully asks, "So it
was by your power that the rest of the caravan was able to come here
through the storm?"  There is the sense that impressed approval waits only
on a clarifying answer.

"We have a legend, Lady, of a place called Rebma, a fabulous city under the
sea.  The home of great riches, it has only once been sacked by invaders
and they were magicians.  The people of Rebma are as you or I, but can
breathe the water as if it were air.  In the legend, a foreign prince comes
to court their queen, Dido.  He asked her, after he had won her love, why
that part of the ocean was so different from waters elsewhere.  'Because
that is the way it is.' she replied.  He left her with their child and she
cried herself to death and made the waters of the seas salty for all time."

He takes a breath.  "Please do not be too upset when I tell you that we
rode down the Blood Road, knowing that we could reach this place because
the prophesies said we would.  I can see why Dido gave the answer she gave,
knowing it was inadequate."

She spreads her hands and inclines her head, accepting, perhaps swayed by
his story, and once more using the formal "would" (by which, I mean a word
with more implication of weighing and choosing), "I would not have such
tragedy in my life, Dreams by Moonlight."

"Nor I, and yet a Dido who would not love for fear of tragic endings would
not be a queen worth telling you the tale of."

Glides says, as one who is quoting a well-known saying, "He either fears
his fate too much, or his deserts are small, who dares not put it to the
touch, to win or lose it all."

Dreams nods at this.

Aisling grins widely.  "Indeed," she replies.  "But the tale of a queen who
brought her kingdom to ruin through pride; ah, that would be worth hearing.
 There are tales worth telling about everyone."  She bows slightly, "As for
me," she tilts her chin up to signify moving to another topic, moves to fold her
hands and encounters the lack of one of them and fluidly ends with her left
hand lightly clasping her right forearm, and continues, "It is very
recently that I have come to be of Amber, and I know little of the ancient
history between my people and yours; I have merely heard tales of the
incredible stand of the Prince against the Moonriders of Ghenesh.  Yet it
seems from your presence the ancient may not be irrelevant.  Tell me," she
asks quietly, "what legends relating to Amber do your people have?"

Glides eyes flash, and he is about to speak when you all note that coming
directly towards you is Prince Caine, still not completely out of his green
armor.  The moonriders wait for him to approach and speak.  "Niece," he
says, inclining his head towards Aisling.  He turns to the moonriders and
says, "I am Caine, First Sea Lord of Amber."  His voice is neutral, as if
he has no emotions.  Many think this is always true of him.

The two moonriders must have heard of him.  They both bow, giving Caine
their utmost attention.

/Damn it!/ Aisling mentally curses.  A part of her says, Ah, but Caine is
smart, and this may have been a rescue mission.  Other parts tend to the
cry of Damn!  Damn!  Damn!  The whole determines to see how the play
progresses.

"Uncle," she replies with a warm smile, playing along with his
nomenclature, inclining her head the same amount to him as he did to her.

"A moment, sirs, for family business."

Caine puts his hand on Aisling's shoulder and his mouth near her ear, close
enough that she can hear his breath.  "You are wanted to discuss an idea
you expressed to my brother.  The conference is at the top of the stairs.
They have news of the situation outside.  If you would pay respects to my
father, you should do so immediately, as we hope to depart shortly. "

He straightens, waits a moment to see if Aisling has any questions or comments.

"Mmm! I don't see any of my maternal relations, which may or may not be
a good thing but perhaps answer a question that has been at the back of
my mind." Adonis refills his goblet again and grins at Jovian. " I am
hungry! Benedict said etiquette demands accosting unknowns and asking
their names; shall we try it, do you think?"

"Starting with the beings closest to the board. Makes sense to 
me," Jovian nods and steers for the food, sipping at his own 
second cup of punch.

Adonis aims for a random group of chaosites next to a gap in the throng
wide enough to accomodate a man with a plate, gives his goblet to
Jovian, grabs the largest plate he can find and start filling it with
food for 2. At a suitable moment, having caught Jovian's eye to make
sure he's watching, Adonis addresses the most apparently approachable
personage with a nod. "Who are you?"

"Call me Singer" replies The Nameless Lord "May I have your name?"

"You may not, for all my names belong to me alone," rejoins Adonis,
chuckling at his own jest, "but you can call me Adonis."

He looks you over.   "You're not very much like the other Ordered Ones.
Why do you ally with them?"

"I suppose you could say it's filial piety," Jovian says drily but with 
a little smile, wondering how differently Singer and Adonis will 
interpret the word-play. He raises his own glass in salute to Singer 
while sipping from his brother's.

Adonis makes a mock gesture to catch and twist his brother's nose
between his knuckles but doesn't follow through, merely claiming a swig
from his own goblet and putting it out of Jovian's way while eyeing
Singer. "My brother is mostly right; you less than half, but you have
had two answers for one question so now it must be our turn again - what
cause have you to resent those you call the 'Ordered Ones'?"

The Lord who called himself Singer looks directly and deeply into your
eyes.  "How can a moth resent a flame, O children of the candle?"

Adonis passes one loaded platter to Jovian while taking another for
himself, apparently considering Singer's rhetoric seriously. "A lot of
people have died thanks to your efforts; it would be nice to think there
was some purpose to it all - some way we could ensure it never happened
again."

The Lord looks at Adonis, as if considering a beverage that was supposed to
be vodka and was actually embalming fluid, but that he might nevertheless
decide is potable.  He considers his words.

"We understand of course that nothing is as simple as it seems," 
Jovian jumps in quickly but smoothly, "least of all the partisan 
politics of Chaos. But your perspective, even if you were not of the 
factions that pressed for war, is most welcome."

"Not at all.  In fact some things *are* as simple as they seem.  It is
oftimes their only saving mercy.  In their hearts, or whatever it is that
they use instead, most of my fellow Lords of Chaos don't really believe
that anyone else truly exists.  Some of them don't believe that they exist.
How can I give you perspectives on beings who do not even seriously believe
in themselves?  And if I could offer you my opinion, could you pay the
price for it?"

Adonis seems somewhat disappointed by something, possibly Singer.
"Price? Mmm!" he muses , "Singer, do you have a song?"

Singer answers slowly.  "Of course, we all have one.  Or more."  Something
is different about him, but you are not sure what.

Keeping his eyes on Singer, Adonis inclines his face toward Jovian,
gesturing with hand holding a pasty. "This is a terrible example of a
crisis of Faith, brother. Perhaps we could help them but I doubt it;
before you can believe in anything, you have to believe in yourself and
thus even the Gods know bounds."

"Oh, I don't know about that," Jovian replies lightly. His eyes are 
also on the one calling himself Singer, but a mildly amused, almost 
conspiratorial smile plays about his lips. "Solipsism can be quite 
satisfying sport for some minds - and after all, 'faith' is not a matter 
of intellect, where belief or disbelief is. There need not be a 
connection."

Returning his full attention to Singer, Adonis continues gravely, "I
would *care* to hear your song, lord, but not at any price; such things
must needs be free given. For my part, I would be happy to sing for you
when you are prepared to listen. Now we must part but if it is of any
solace to you, I leave behind my blessing on you and your house."

If there's no further conversation, Adonis takes his goblet in one hand
and his platter in another and departs [presumably with Jovian], raising
his cup in toast to Singer as he goes. It's impossible to say if he's
mocking him or not. 

Jovian lingers for half a moment, leaning toward Singer. "He's quite 
mad, you know," the dragonrider advises in a hushed tone, neither 
pitched nor directed to carry to his brother's ear. "He is my brother 
and he has done great service to my liege, so duty bids me watch 
over him, but I would enjoy conversing with you further, later on." 
With a few quick steps, he catches up with Adonis again.

"Perhaps when I am feeling more myself, I shall see you in your cousin's
domain.  I shall say then if there is weal or woe attached to the blessing
of Oberon's Grandsons."

Once they are far enough away to avoid being heard,
Adonis smiles wrily, "Filial piety?" he remarks, toasting his brother's
wit. Jovian simply smiles and shrugs at this.

Noting at this instant that she was able to do so, Clarissa escorts her
party, who are joined by Flora and Lilly, at the coffin.  Flora just looks
at the unicorn flag draped over the box.  Even the rather flamboyant
Clarissa seems subdued when confronted with the reality of so small a thing
as a coffin containing so large a person as Oberon could be.

Brennan steps up with the rest of his group and surveys the scene--
casket, flag draped over it, mourners (or respect-payers) gathered
around it-- and stands respectfully for a moment.

But ultimately, Brennan had never met the man, and any true sense of
mourning he might feel is muted by that fact.  After his moment of
reflection, he gently disentagnles his escorting arm from Clarissa's
and steps away from that group to leave them with their deeper
emotions....

Lilly stands beside the coffin in silence for several moments, showing due 
respect for a king she had never met. Like others in this situation she 
found feeelings for him hard to summon forth. Still, part of her wished she 
could have known him merely to say she had. Her intellect, on the other 
hand, knew that she could more then likely discern what type of man he had 
truly been by that which he had left behind.

With that thought, her attention returned to the here and now. Almost 
involountarily, her eyes scanned the area for Brennan. Something about this 
cousin had indeed struck a cord with her. Finding him conversing with 
Dworkin, she makes her way over to them.

As Lilly nears she catches a snippet of their conversation.

When you are ready, you can step over to speak with Dworkin,
...Which may very well leave him standing away from that group, and
alone (given the circumstances) and face to face with Dworkin.  Him,
he regards for a moment with an almost quizzical expression of part
recognition and part mystery.  His face has something of the look of a
man doing sums and long divisions in his head, on the fly.

But whatever the puzzle, it would seem that Brennan has more variables
than equations, for the moment.  "Are you sane, sir?" 

"When the wind is southerly I know a hawk from a hand-saw."

Then, "I am Brennan, the son of Brand, the grandson of Oberon.  
What is your name, sir?"  As with Bleys and Madoc, he offers Dworkin 
his hand.

"No, by Chaos!  Brand was the great-great grandson of Oberon.  No one pays
attention anymore.   Unless we're speaking of a different Brand..."

"We might be.  But I meant that I am the grandson of Oberon, or so I
have been told.  I had never met him."

"But well met, Brennan, I am your father's teacher, Dworkin.  At one time 
I was painter to the late King.  How is't that you escaped your father's steely
orbit?"

"We disagreed as to the course of my future.  I pre-empted his designs
by walking away quite some time ago.  But before that, he spoke of you
often."

Moving beside Brennan, Lilly interupts the conversation in a polite, gentle 
tone. To both of them she says, "Please excuse my interuption." Her eyes 
then turn to take in the figure of Dworkin. "I had wanted to introduce 
myself. I am Lilly, daughter of Prince Benedict of Amber. My father has 
spoken well of you Lrod Dworkin." With a warm smile she extends a hand 
towards Dworkin.

Dworkin reaches out and takes Lilly's hand, he holds it as if it were made
of porcelain.  He bows over your hand and rises--taller, somehow.  "My dear
child, I am enchanted.  Your father, the young scamp, has never mentioned
you to me.  He always was the popular with the ladies.  As to your
collective fathers' frequent speaking of me, I am wildly flattered by the
attention."  Lilly can not help but to smile at the mention of her father being a ladies 
man. He certainly never seemed so to her. Then again, perhaps Dworkin merely 
had his own perception of things.

He pauses for a second, and still smiling the warm, infectious
grin he's been wearing for some time, he continues.  "You're not a
hellmaiden, are you?"  He has not released your hand.

Not being entirely familiar with the term, Lilly decides it best not to 
confirm nor deny anything at this point.

"I was born in a Shadow known as Chosan. My mother was one of it's 
inhabitants. Shortly after my birth I was fostered with allies of my father 
where I learned the art of the sword." She says, hoping it somehow satisfies 
the question.

"Almost certainly not a Hellmaiden, then.  Unless you've got hidden wings. "

"Hmm," he hmms.  "The Art of the Sword?  I suppose it is possible...The
tools isn't really important, more of a focus, really..."  Dworkin has been
speaking as if to himself and suddenly turns that manic grin back to Lilly.
"You simply must show me this art of the sword some time, child.  It sounds
absolutely fascinating!"

He turns to Brennan.  "And you, son of my most advanced pupil, are you also
skilled in the recondite arts?"