Altamarean Moot

After Brennan found Tayanna and left with a promise of future visits but without letting himself be pinned down with a when or a how often, Brennan retreats from her presence, and cleans himself up for travel then gathers the few belongings he had left in his chambers.

When he's ready, he fishes out the Trump of Amber, and then realizes with odd surprise that he fetched out Bleys' instead. That wouldn't be quite so odd if Brennan weren't the type of personality who kept his few Trumps in his pack in order. Because you never know when that might come in handy. He makes a quick check of his other cards and, yes, they're in order. Odds are, Bleys' was, too. No tampering is evident.

Still, he almost puts Bleys' back and takes Amber's, before he stops and thinks. Fiona had asked him to carry a message. Paige was a Trump artist and would be interested in Uxmali developments. He was curious about the Twins. And Bleys was probably heading back to Amber anyway. If Bleys could cast card readings and get results that ran straight through Uxmal, well, as much as he wanted to be with Cambina....

He stifled a snarl of pure frustration, then composed his face and voice, and concentrated on the image of Bleys.

Bleys' picture comes alive. He is dressed in formal clothes, seated on a bench somewhere in a castle. If he's in Amber, Brennan doesn't recognize where. He says, "yes," which Brennan feels is both directed at him and at some other conversation.

"Bleys? Brennan. Bring me through?"

"Bide," he says quietly, his eyes on Brennan.

Bleys makes some excuse to whoever he's talking to and steps into a more private spot to bring Brennan through.

"Welcome to Altamar, nephew. I thought it best not to bring you into the closing ceremonies for the moot. It's winding down and I don't care to prolong it by having to introduce you to every knight in Altamar. Particularly not when there's family news to share before we return to Amber."

"Ah, Altamar," Brennan says, looking around. "I remember seeing them from the front lines at the Courts. I would have paid the price in ceremony to meet some of them, but it's probably just as well."

He leads Brennan down the hall. "But that will wait until we can speak with Paige. You'll want to look at the children. They've grown rather nicely."

Brennan mugs a faint 'I'm shocked' expression, but says nothing.

After a bit of a wander through the castle, they arrive at the chambers allotted to Paige and the twins. Paige is there, along with some luggage and the babies, who appear to be ready to move at a moment's notice.

It must have been a while for Paige and Bleys, because the twins look closer to a year old than to newborn to Brennan's inexperienced eye.

When Brennan walks in, he's got just a touch of the restless energy that some active men develop when they're in sleep deficit but not impaired yet. When he sees the children, he is emphatically not surprised, and not just because of Bleys' warning.

"Hello, Paige. They are getting big, aren't they?"

His voice is light, probably intentionally so. The babes aren't going to pick up from his tone that they're unusual, or the cause for any concern.

"Yes, they are," Bleys agrees in about the same tone. He waves at a burbling infant.

Paige is distracted by the twin in green attempting to put an entire ragdoll stag in the mouth of the twin in blue who seems perfectly happy with its matching unicorn.

"So, Brennan, you have family news to tell us? Fire away."

"Executive summary version? The family just gets bigger and bigger. Ambrose and I have a half-sister, named Chantico." Brennan paces so he's not scowling at the children when he mentions the sister. "Extremely unpleasant creature, the offspring of one of the local godlettes. While Ambrose was taking the opportunity to return Brita to the Family fold, Chantico was taking the opportunity to try and conquer the Temples by military force. We shut that down when we got back, but in a decision I'm likely to regret, we didn't--" Brennan glances at the kids, and sanitizes his next statement "--shut her down.

"She's going to be a problem, at least for Ambrose.

"And as for Ambrose... we spoke at length, more than once. He's between three or four rocks and hard places, so after we figured out how to talk to each other, we sketched out some ideas for how he can simplify his life. He's right now either busily betraying me, or thinking about how to follow through. The latter, I hope. And I left him with a copy of Brand's notes, and my notes on those notes. For the time being, I've agreed to speak on his behalf.

"That might be easier if we had a better way to keep in touch with each other than the patched together system we have now."

"If you trust me, I know he has your father's Trump of me," Paige suggests. "I don't know that I'll have the time or attention of any suitable length to attempt Trumps of either of you. Ossian's your best bet for speed, followed by Reid, Brita and then myself, in most instances."

When she mentions her own Trump, Brennan cocks an eyebrow-- he's seen the pose, after all-- but doesn't comment on it. "We were hoping for something a bit more direct," he says, "but thanks for the offer."

Paige looks confused for a moment and then it dawns on her. "If no one else is available, I make an effort. I've some preliminary sketches for Ambrose from my time in Uxmal and I could another model at the moment.

Brennan considers that offer very briefly, then says gratefully. "Thanks. I may take you up on that."

"I've been having some troubles working my own Trump here. I can't tell if it's Altamar or if I'm just a different person than I was last I committed my Image to pasteboard." She looks concerned before she's distracted by the blue clothed twin pulling itself up on a chair leg and standing wobbily.

Brennan glances at Bleys-- is that normal?

Brennan shifts then to a few other scattered topics. "Fiona sends her regards, and I'm sure Dworkin and Brita would have, if they suspected I would be seeing you soon.

"So, tell me about Ysabeau and Huon," he finishes with, "and perhaps introduce me to the newest centers of the universe?"

Paige smiles and indicates the twin in blue about to be toppled by the twin in green. "The risk taker over there is Brooke, about to be drawn down by her brother Leif." They both turn at the sound of their names but as one, in a brookeandleif sort of way. For no other reason than to make a liar out of their mother, Leif climbs up his sister to stand next to her instead of pulling her back down. Brooke is watching the newcomer cousin with obvious interest.

Brennan reaches absently into a pocket. The chances that he thought to bring toys for tots is negligibly small, so he doesn't even bother with that. Instead, after a moment, he comes up with a handful of chocolate covered coffee beans. He stares at the beans for a moment, then decides that chocolate and coffee probably aren't right for the occasion, pops one in his own mouth, and tries again.

"Ysabeau. And Huon." Bleys says. "They are respectively, a dead Aunt and a dead Uncle. Ysabeau was Gerard and Julian's little sister. She was...very skilled at annoying our father. He banished her to her unpleasant little home shadow, hoping she'd grow up. No one knows what became of her." Bleys runs his hand along his chin.

"As to Huon, he was one of father's by-blows. He was banished, too, but I don't think Father ever really expected him back." Bleys shrugs. "He never had the power to create the level of trouble that he felt comfortable with. Where on your journeys did these old names come up, Brennan?"

"My brother had copies of their Trumps, in what I believe was Brand's hand," he says. "Judging solely by the apparent temperature of the cards, I wouldn't be too quick to proclaim Huon dead, unless you've seen a body.

"Sadly, none of your cousin were in the collection."

Leif looks at Brennan. "Da-Da-Dee!", he proclaims.

Brennan is still rummaging in his pocket, still finding the less than likely toy. He stops, and looks at Leif. "Noooo, I don't think so, big guy." But he reaches down and picks the big guy up, anyway. He's manifestly unsure for a moment, inexperienced with holding babies, but rapidly hits on the idea of sitting Leif up on his right shoulder and keeping him stable with his right arm. From there, he can survey the room as befits his lineage.

Paige's chuckle turns into the smallest hint of concern for Leif. "Uncle Brennan, Leif honey. Bren - nan."

Leif says "Benna."

"Close enough for government work," Brennnan says.

Brennan keeps the restless energy under control while Little Lord Leif is perched there. He brings out a more appropriate candy from his pocket-- one less likely to induce hyperactivity-- and gives it to the child.

Paige scoops Brooke up onto her hip. She rocks gently, her smile still tight while contemplating how to avoid the inevitable autumn and falling Leifs.

He's secure as long as Brennan's got him.

"Are we leaving for Amber soon?" she asks Bleys, her hands absently stroking the bulge of her Trumps in the pocket under her skirt.

Brooke looks at Paige. "Amba" Leif laughs.

She turns to her cousin and explains, "I'm hoping Leif can meet his father and clear up such misunderstandings. Do the Knights have a lead on his disappearance?"

Bleys adds, "Random was so sorry that he didn't think of the 'Order of the Red Light' until after he knighted you all. What is the latest on your missing member?"

Brennan looks at Bleys coolly. "Stale, I'm sure."

Bleys shrugs and turns to his daughter. "Last seen hoofing for greener pastures, as I recall. If you need to speak to him, perhaps we can look him up after we return."

"As far as anyone knows," Brennan says, "he made it there. Jove followed the trail of flowers-- which I still contend is a bad sign-- to a place where he believes that his brother stopped to bind his wounds.

"We are all clear on his lineage, yes? Finndo's grandson?"

"Finndo was before my time, of course, but, somehow it doesn't surprise me that he shares my grandfather's reputed taste for exotics." Bleys makes a moue of distaste.

Brennan arches an eyebrow at the word 'reputed' but doesn't press it. "Not much on Finndo's mate, though. I believe Jove neglected to ask for a name during his travels. Does she have one? Does anyone know?"

Then [Brennan] looks at Paige and says much more seriously, "The last time I spoke to Jovian, he had some information and a lot more speculation. There's a power struggle in the Forest, which may already be a war by now. Jove's brother seems to be key to it. That might not be safe."

It isn't hard for an adult to notice that Brennan's being circumspect, and isn't likely to say more in front of tender ears.

"If we want to have dinner and talk, I just need to put these two down," Paige says. "But I thought we might be travelling soon."

"Shortly, shortly. I am not done with the Moot. Brennan, you're certainly welcome to join me. The knights are well meaning, but rather fond of the sound of their own voices.

"Hmm. It might actually speed things up if you came along. They'd pass on some of the more baroque speech forms in their eagerness to meet you. You are, after all, a knight and a commander from the late unpleasantness." He raises and eyebrow in Brennan's direction.

"My celebrity is at your service," Brennan says with a wry smile.

"I believe I shall take advantage of it, then," Bleys says.

Paige kisses both the men on the cheek as they leave, telling the children to blow kisses and wave. "Perhaps we can talk more on the Knights," which sounds remarkably like Adonis, "when you've returned," she suggests.

Brennan lets Bleys lead the way. If they're off together, Brennan asks enough questions of the Knights' background to ensure he doesn't accidently offend them or embarass himself.

Bleys gives Brennan a brief rundown on basic etiquette on the way back to the moot. On his return, he lets the herald announce Brennan to the moot. The full listing of Brennan's titles is short compared to Bleys' rather extensive list, some of which seem to be local awards. However, a Knight-Commander's office is a sufficiently high honor to impress the Altamareans.

Lord of Amber wasn't doing it for them?

A title Brennan won for himself in battle impresses them more than one he got for being born.

The moot continues on its way. Brennan gets the impression that most of the work has been done and they're just closing things out. Bleys quietly explains that the point of the moot was to establish that the Knights have repaid a part of their debt to Amber.

If there is an opportune moment, Brennan asks how much debt they have left, and what they're repaying.

Bleys explains quietly that they owed Amber three services for the favor of having brought them to Altamar, and out of Ghenesh. This was the second.

Brennan raises an eyebrow, but does not elect, at that moment, to press Bleys on it. Except to make sure that's not a taboo subject among the Altamareans.

When the interminable speeches and formalities have, at last, terminated, Bleys introduces Brennan to a number of notables, including the Steward, Strongblade. They're eager to speak with Brennan, and, if he has time, to spar with him.

The sparring might best be left for a time when Brennan has been able to get sleep the night before-- it depends on whether Brennan would be insulting them by turning them down.

If he stays another day or two, he'll definitely get a chance to spar, but they won't push a new guest until he's eaten and rested.

Then they'll play it by ear, since Brennan doesn't know what Bleys' plans are.

But he's more than willing to talk to the Knights-- he'd seen their Bleys-led charge, was impressed by their form and valor, and isn't too proud to state that.

After fencing so long with Ambrose, and Tayanna, and even Fiona, it's a good change of venue for Brennan to find himself among fighting men, and the subject probably turns quickly from the Battle of Patternfall (Brennan doesn't call it that) to other fights and battles that he and they have fought, and other strategies and tactics they have used against other opponents. If they're game, I think they and Brennan can pass a considerable amount of time in that pursuit.

The Knights eat this talk up.

Assuming it's not taboo, Brennan will try to learn more about Ghenesh and the Moonriders. I see no reason Brennan would be hiding that he and Bleys encountered them; he'll feel his way somewhat carefully along giving his actual opinion of the High Marshall, though, until he's on surer ground.

Brennan quickly concludes the Knights hate the Moonriders with a deadly, ancient passion.

Brennan does admit to a certain rudeness on the part of the High Marshall, in a fashion by which the Knights may understand that 'rude' is a proxy term for much less polite descriptors.

The Moonriders and the Knights were ancestrally the same people, Brennan eventually realizes. The Knights feel that the Moonriders fell from the path of honor and turned to a vile form of sorcery to preserve themselves. The Knights refused to succumb to the plans of the Marshall and his cronies, and eventually Bleys relocated them to Altamar.

And that would be the source of their debt to Amber and to Bleys? Well, Brennan's just about hit the gold mine, hasn't he? Brennan knows from his earlier research that the Altamareans were at Jones Falls with Bleys-- it occurs to him now that some of these particular Altamareans in front of him might have been there.

Brennan would love to hear accounts of that campaign from their perspective. whether they speak historically or anecdotally (if they do speak) Brennan listens with a careful ear as to how the Moonriders fight.

These men are the grandsons of the heroes of Jones Falls. They can tell their forebears' stories, but Brennan is aware that he's moving out of oral history and into family mythology.

[In terms of equipment and style, the Moonriders seem to be closer to what Novak would think of as Mongols or central Asian raiders than to European-style knights. This jibes with what Brennan has seen. At a guess, the Altamareans have adapted some to local culture, and the Moonriders have diverged in a different direction from the common ancestor.]

Some long time later, Bleys and Brennan manage to break away from the crowd and find a private corner. Brennan doesn't think they'll have very long to chat, but it's as much privacy as he's likely to get to speak with Bleys for a while.

I think Brennan's rather enjoying himself, but he's no fool, and he follows Bleys' lead.

"Well?" Bleys asks.

"Random," he says, and traces just a small part of a familiar design in the air with his finger. "It worked. Now it gets interesting."

Bleys nods. "That explains the disturbances I've noticed. Marvelous. Now we get to live in reality as imagined by a brooding black-clad poet and a teenage punk with an aeronautical obsession. It's better than the alternative, but that's a low standard. I'm sure Fiona will have a great deal to say about it when next I speak to her."

Brennan nods. "She agreed to answer a few questions for me."

Bleys changes the subject. "And your siblings?"

"Are a handful. Chantico just might be as toxic as Ambrose describes, if first impressions are anything to go by. There's hope for Ambrose, I think. I'm almost glad I had no direct access to what he wanted, or I would have had to make the decision on the spot. As it is, now I can defer that to heavier heads than mine.

"I wonder if Ben thought this way about Eric and Corwin," he muses. Brennan is struck by the sudden image of he and Benedict commiserating over beers in one of Amber's many taverns. He does not share this image.

Brennan changes the subject, too.

"Brooke? Leif? Daeon?"

"Nothing on the latter. The children had a sudden growth spurt recently; they're not as old as they appear. If you want baby babble, I leave that to Paige. Infants are not my strong suit," Bleys says, rolling his eyes slightly.

"So I surmised."

"I've dismissed at least one sorcerous watcher, but that could be a friendly relation, as opposed to the unfriendly sort.

"Those poor kids," Brennan says, scowling. "Too important to too many people. But I meant, this idea of introducing Daeon to the children. That might get... complicated."

"Assuming he's alive. Arcadia can be remarkably fatal to even reasonably powerful beings when they cross whatever power lives in the heart of that place," Bleys says. "I'm not sure how best to bring that rather delicate point up with Paige, who can be a bit ... headstrong ... at times." The elder redhead smiles tightly.

"He's from there, remember. I'd be very surprised if he were dead, unless one of his aunts found him and killed him. But yes, even that little slice of Arcadia that Artemis brought with her was enough to drive the point home for those of us that saw it. Good idea or bad, this notion of taking the twins to meet Daeon, headstrong isn't going to be very helpful."

"It rarely is. Paige was at her best when she had a calming influence in her life. Perhaps the children will provide one as they grow up." Bleys doesn't sound particularly optimistic, and dismisses the topic with a wave of his hand.

"Who's likely to miss your darling cousin, do you think, if she were for some reason never heard from again?"

Bleys cocks his head and narrows his eyes. "Her son would, I imagine. Corwin may also have a sentimental attachment. She is family, and has taken the walk that proves it, but she did also declare herself an enemy of the state. I hesitate to predict what your grandmother will think."

Brennan gestures to indicate he was more concerned about Corwin, than Merlin, in this regard, and less able to assess.

Bleys shrugs slightly.

Regarding Clarissa, though, he says succinctly: "Tell Grandmother she meant to murder Ambrose. I take that, among other things, personally."

The older man nods as he looks at Brennan. "Have you thought about the ramifications of what you're suggesting? Corwin didn't even have to die, and look what he did. Dara hates like that. I pity the man who suffers her curse."

Brennan lets out a long exhalation of air, looking somewhere in the far distance while he composes his mind. "I've been thinking about that as long as I've been drawing plans," he says finally, and even a bit slowly. "She is a clear and present danger. Sorceress, shapeshifter, ambitious, murderess. And now she has guns. Can we allow her to leverage the threat of a bloodcurse into the freedom of action to do more and more damage?"

When he forms the question, Brennan shifts his eyes back to Bleys'. He has a keen interest in Bleys' thoughts on the matter.

"I'd be looking to bind her for a time and see what else we could come up with," Bleys says without hesitation. "We did it to Brand. Dara couldn't match him. It would take some effort to do it, but it's by no means beyond us."

"That didn't work with Brand, though," Brennan points out quietly.

"It bought us time," Bleys replies. "If she has the sort of casual power your father had at the end, we'll have to kill her anyway. Let's hope we're more creative and she's less resourceful."

And: "Where is Brand's curse? Or is it still building?"

"If I knew the answer to that, do you think I'd be standing here shooting the breeze with you, nephew?" Bleys smiles tightly. "While I believe brother Caine has the best claim on your late father's malediction, I myself have done him an ill turn or two, as has my sister. The same could be said of our new monarch and the King of Paris. And that's assuming he was so impoverished in malice that he limited his curse to one of us instead of besting brother Corwin for scope. So many targets, so few words left, especially with that little breathing problem." Bleys plucks at his throat as he says the last.

Brennan's eyes glimmer with eloquent malice when Bleys mentions the sucking throat wound. He had certainly not forgotten it.

A speculative look crosses Bleys' face, and he is about to say something when the Steward calls him and he is drawn away into another conversation.

Brennan was about to ask him a followup question, too. Instead, as Bleys retreats, he says simply, "We'll talk again, I trust."

Bleys holds eye contact with Brennan and nods before he turns away.

Paige is dressed in traditional menswear of Altamar when Brennan returns. She's cleared out a bit of the furniture in her sitting room and is working with a fencing dummy, dressed in what appears to have once been maternity clothes.

When Brennan enters she salutes the tattered dress and then her cousin before sheathing the blade and grabbing a towel from one of the dispaced wingback chairs.

Brennan is leaning against the doorframe when she turns around, and he returns the sketch of a salute from that posture.

"You telegraph your lunges with your chin. Very bad habit. Have the local Knights brought your martial spirit, or is it something else?"

"I'll work on it," Paige says inviting him to sit with a toss of her chin toward a suitable chair. "Martial spirit, maternal spirit." She shrugs. "You say po-tay-to I say po-tah-to."

Brennan eyes the chair, knowing that he really should stand, right now. "Ah. I thought perhaps you were catching the eye of some dashing young Altamarean Knight."

"I'm trying to avoid such entanglements, currently. The twins have to be my priority for the moment," she explains. "I never realized just how selfish I really was until I tried to be selfless.

"Even then then it's selfish of me to want what little time I apparently have while they're small to myself."

"How long do you think that's going to be?"

"At the rate they're aging, I can't say, perhaps another few months, depending on your definition of small. I'd guess their development mental, physical and social to be roughly between nine months and a year old already."

Something in what Paige said gives Brennan a sudden, quizzical thought. He will return to it later, though.

After a lengthy internal debate, Brennan surrenders to the chair, occupying it in his typical sprawl.

"So, what have you really heard on the twin's father?" she asks slumping into a comfortable legs over the arm chair.

"Solid knowledge? Not much more than I've already said-- he headed into Arden, probably looking for Arcadia. The path is clear until a certain point, where he probably stopped to bind his wounds. Then Julian sent him back to Amber and Artemis came and took him back."

Paige nods, but doesn't interrupt. She rolls her neck once to work out a kink, but even in a lounging pose, he can see that he has her full attention.

"Speculation? Much more, and not much of it good. But how accurate it is is anyone's guess. Artemis is one of five sisters, all children of Finndo and... something. Calliste is another. Artemis' twins by Julian were evidently the key to her long ascendancy in Arcadia, which pleased no one but Artemis. Except that now one of those children is dead.

"Enter Calliste stage left with, allegedly, two brand new twins of her own, making a run for power. The parentage is unknown, but if they're recent and significant, the paternal pool can't be very broad.

"Enter Artemis stage right with two brand new twin grandchildren of significant ancestry.

"And what Finndo's nameless but evidently still living consort is up to is anyone's guess."

He looks Paige right in the eye: "So you want Brooke and Leif to meet their father. Have you given any thought to how and when that ought to happen?"

She returns his gaze honestly, with obvious concern. "It'd be nice, but I have no intentions of puting the children in danger, which translates to no place near Arden or Arcadia, or places like Heather Vale where that line blurs.

"In fact, I'd prefer someplace other than Amber, even. Paris, Rebma, or this new realm of the King's, someplace where Pattern can protect them from Artemis's powers, or someplace where my Aunt or Troublemaker are, for the same reasons. The Castle would do in a pinch, I suppose.

"More than his right to meet Brooke and Leif, I'd like to talk to him on what role he's to play in their lives. I grew up without either of my parents," she says before chuckling at her own words. "Allright, perhaps I didn't grow up until recently, or maybe I'm not done yet, but I suppose I meant, I lived near two centuries before I knew Father. I don't wish that on my children."

"If I have to go to Arden or even Arcadia to find him, I will... as long as I know the children are safe," she finishes as she realizes that she's been rambling on.

Brennan gives a grunt. "Arcadia might be a war zone, by then. Are you ready for that?"

Paige waves a lazy hand toward the practice dummy. "I'm a scion of the line and can meet the challenges I put before myself, even if I'm not a Ruby Knight," she answers with some bravado.

"Being held down by writhing grasses and savaged by a quasi-divine bear-goddess can cramp even a scion of the Amber's style," Brennan drawls. He pre-empts a protest: "I'm not saying don't do it. I'm saying, take it very, very seriously. I've seen a lot, and the piece of Arcadia that she brought with her was some serious mojo."

He nods at the same practice dummy. "That's a good start, though.

"What do think Daeon's reaction is going to be, to all this?"

"I have no idea," she says starting to remove her braid. "I suppose we both should've thought more about the implications, but I honestly had no idea that he was some sort of fertility god and I've never had to concern myself with pregnancy before. In Shadow, after taking the Pattern, it was always rather improbable that I was going to catch with child and before that I was more careful about such things."

"It's something to think about," Brennan says.

Her brow sets in determination, "No matter what my children mean to this war, I will not let them be pawns.

"Of either grandmother."

"That very admirable sentiment is going to take more than brute strength to accomplish. That's going to take cunning," he says.

"You seem to have the advantage of me in regards to our grandmother. Can I interest you in becoming an ally on that front?" she asks.

Brennan smiles, faintly. "Being eldest grandchild does carry a few advantages," he says. But he continues, more seriously: "To balance out the negatives."

After a long pause, he says, "I don't want to see the twins become pawns of anyone... but Artemis-- and perhaps Daeon-- are going to be able to offer them quite a bit. And they won't be lying. I'm also not sure what I can do about grandmother. I'm almost afraid to meddle for fear of giving her ideas.

"I'm sure we'll speak again in the future, though." Whether Brennan wants to or not. He reflects the question back at Paige: "What would you have me say?"

"Nothing preferably," she admits. "I was suggesting that I might not be up to the level of cunning needed to attempt thwarting Grandmother. The best I understood her while in..." Paige hesitates, not ready to invoke her name, even as just a place. She swings her legs forward so she's facing her cousin. "In her home... well... was that I don't understand her. That I don't have the frame of reference to even begin."

"I think she has the same problem," Brennan says, "despite having been Oberon's Queen for many years. In Chaos, not even consciousness is constant. You saw the result of Aisling's... demise. What our darling cousin wants to do to Merlin. It can be sculpted as much as their bodies can. I think."

There's a definite visceral reaction to the idea that Merlin could be hurt, but Paige tempers herself and doesn't interrupt.

"If she doesn't understand the desire of others, I think she might not fully grasp the concept of an independent 'other,' living as she has for so long."

Brennan sighs, "I'll do what I can, if I see a good opportunity. I don't want to see them used any more than they need to be. I have some appreciation for what that feels like."

"What do you think Adonis and his mother could offer them?" she asks, her whole body listening for his answer.

Brennan cocks his head, mildly surprised that he actually needs to say this: "Power, of course. I don't know what, exactly, Arcadia is, but it's not just some Shadow forest. The gaurdianship of Arden is important enough that since Finndo's time," he pauses to reflect the true scale of time they're talking about, "it's been enough of a mark of favor that it was considered the second son's position. Oberon evidently thought the place was important, too. And at that tender age, gifts of power are easily confused with gifts of love.

"Have you thought about getting Julian's opinion on this? Or Corwin's, if you're afraid Julian is partisan?"

"Father doesn't have Uncle Julian's Trump to hand, and to be honest, I hadn't thought too much on asking Uncle Corwin, but it's an option. As to the Warden's bias, looking at the love... loyalty... fanaticism... whatever you call it... that he inspires in Robin, well... I think he's not going to be as unfeeling about it all as his demeanor might show," she decides. "Biases exist for reasons, not all bad."

Brennan senses the impending disengage, and catches her eye before she stands-- this is the point he thinks is worth reinforcing: "They both know more about Arden, and likely Arcadia, than we do. Probably more than Bleys does, too. Knowledge is power."

Paige nods, understanding his point and hoping he understood that she had considered it, hence the knowledge that she had investigated current ways of contacting the aforementioned uncles.

After that, he'll let it drop.

"Well, I should clean up before we head home," she says rising and removing her alb. "I enjoyed this, Brennan. Next time, it's something simpler than chess, OK? Maybe backgammon?"

Brennan looks faintly disappointed, but acquiesces. "Maybe," he allows.

Paige shakes her head, but smiles. "I suppose a knight needs his chessboard, heh? OK, we'll see what's to hand next time life slows enough for an enjoyable evening."