In The Field


Stepping forth from the rainbow, Jerod takes less than a moment to gather in his surroundings, a flash of his fingers advising Drusus to hold his position.

"Conner." he says with a nod to his cousin. "What's our status?"

"Pretty quiet at the moment." Conner replies. "The majority of our troops are seeing to the wounded and forming ranks for the march, triumphant or otherwise into the city. We also have a sizable contingent of prisoners of war. Most of the officers and sorcerers escape of course. They all seem to be mercenary troops with little loyalty to Huon. I don't think they'll be much bother."

Conner takes a moment to look Jerod over. "So what happened in the gorge?" Conner asks. "How did Huon escape?"

"Robin." Jerod says flatly. The simplicity of his expression is sufficient to provide anyone with a clear understanding of exactly how displeased Jerod is.

"We had him chased him into a cavern and managed to capture him. I had managed to get the blade away from him. Trumps were being used to acquire a means to get out when we were attacked by multiple dragons. During the battle we held them off while Robin worked to get a link open. Which she apparently did. But then she dumped him through the link and turned around to have a little dust-up of her own." Even now, Conner can hear the rage in the background, the flatness in Jerod's voice losing ground now.

"We had trouble establishing trump links. She should have realized we were far out, that the time flow would be vastly accelerated. I'm not a trump expert, I hate the damn things but even I can figure that out. Instead she dumped a Prince into a place of shadow and decided that was sufficient for her needs. She should have sent someone else through, or followed herself to ensure he didn't escape. But she didn't. She wanted a fight with dragons. You could see it in her expression. She let her emotions get in the way of the overall mission and it's going to come back and bite us in the ass. And you can bet when Huon does come back that someone's going to get killed because of it. But at least she got her chance to have some fun."

Conner does not need a great water skill to hear the sarcasm dripping from Jerod's comment.

Conner's jaw drops. "You mean you had him and she!" Conner swallows a cool draft of water and regains his composure. "There are no words." He mutters shaking his head. "Now I wish I had followed you instead of watching from afar. So what now? I trust you will be not be content to leave Huon to his healing."

Jerod is eyeing the forces arrayed before them as Connor speaks, watching as the troops marshal, collecting supplies, guarding prisoners. His eye focusses on a pair of small parties. One wears the colour of the Guard, the other those of Khela's troops. He watches as both go about their business of collecting the dead and the dying, the two groups interacting freely as their pursue their duty for fallen comrades from both groups. On this day, their colours matter not. Today the fallen are all the same and have no use for politics or ceremony.

"Too many..." he whispers. "For nothing." and he seizes the rage, using it as he was taught to, closing his expression to the outside world.

"Huon has been gone too long. There might have been a trail to follow but it would have taken time to do so, and there are other things to attend to. But Huon is not running. He is re-grouping." Jerod says, turning back. "He will be back. There is more to this than just his desire for a sword. Such a motive is too simplistic, as I've said. He's part of something bigger. We just don't know what. To counter that, we must ensure that everyone in the Family knows of what has happened and be watchful.

"To have pulled this off, Huon must have had help, other allies and infiltrators for sure. I think in some respect it will be wise to let Caine have his anger. He'll put his mind to finding Huon. I would hope that Bleys would as well, though one cannot be sure there. We must find the crumbs that have escaped our notice. Find those hints and we move a step closer to Huon and his true objective."

"When I called to Bleys in the gorge, the focus of my scrying was Huon." Conner said simply. "In the field he had sorcerers to shield him. In his hidey hole, he may or may not have access to same." Conner brings forth the Eye of Rebma once more and looks at Jerod. "Shall I find out?"

Jerod looks at the Eye for only the briefest moment. Caution and patience are watchwords for plans well executed, but today only vengeance screams in his recesses of his heart, matching the white knuckle grip of his hand holding his spear.

"Do it." Jerod says.

Conner focuses his will upon the mirror and demands to see Huon and where he lies hidden.

Conner focuses on the mirror and it takes a significant effort to just get it to respond. His exertions this day have caught up with him. The effort adds to his exhaustion but Conner forces it until ... something shows itself.

Huon is there, being treated by a healer. Only her back is visible. Moments later the image fades. It's as if he's on a ship that's travelling through shadow.

Conner clutches Jerod's shoulder to steady himself and sags against him. "I've overextended myself today." Conner murmurs. "Too much magic too close to a Pattern." Conner steadies himself and stands on his own once more. "Well Huon looked wounded still. That's something I suppose. Felt like he was travelling in shadow but he wasn't moving. Curious. Most curious." Conner yawns. "I'll try again once I've had time to rest."

Jerod's hand is immediately at Conner's arm to help him, though whether the speed is due to concern or Conner's inadvertant entry into Jerod's personal space is open to interpretation.

"Perhaps he was on a ship." Jerod says. "I did it once with space travel when I was younger, experimenting. Dangerous though, given how tech dislikes Pattern."

"Wouldn't you have to be actively shifting though?" Conner asks, "When sailing on the seas, I have to do active navigating for the shadowshifts. Huon appeared too busy being healed to be doing so. Which hints at another of the blood helping him."

"How does this work?" [Jerod] asks, pointing to the Eye.

"An excellent theoretical question I hope to have a full answer to someday." Conner replies wearily. "In practice, it is much like using a Trump except that you need firsthand knowledge of who you wish to look upon. The better you know them, the easier it is to establish a connection."

"Does it require sorcery?" Jerod asks, a creeping hope entering his voice. "I managed to spend a bit of time with Huon, enough to spar for sure."

"It helps a great deal but no it is not required." Conner holds out the mirror to Jerod. "If you wish to try, I have no objection."

Jerod looks at it for a moment, weighing the options, before beginning to reach for it.

Conner does not look like blacking out just yet, so Meg slows her pace as she nears them. "Cousin?" she calls from an underwater spear's-throw away. "Is it well with you?"

Jerod holds off on the mirror, guarding his expression but flashing his fingers. Conner is certain the mirror will attract his attention, later. For now, there are more important considerations and he remains silent, letting Conner answer Meg's question, evidently a new member of the family.

"Nothing a good night's sleep or three won't fix." Conner calls back. "Come and meet more of your family." When she is close enough Conner makes the introductions. "Jerod, this is our cousin Meg. She was raised in shadow Abford before Huon claimed it as his own and levied his troops from it. She came in search of her sons, now found, and wishes to advocate for her people among the prisoners of war. Meg, this is Jerod, Duke of Rebma and Lord of Amber. He faced Huon in battle and lived to tell the tale bitter as that tale might be." Conner starts to smirk but halfway through his face decides its not worth the effort.

Jerod sees a woman apparently of middle years, fine dark hair braided and secured about her head, dark eyes in an oval face with a wide mouth. She wears soft grey silk trousers and blouse, over them a short belted wrap dress in sea-colors with splotches of red and purple. The garments fit her only indifferently well, and she does not appear especially at ease in them.

The searching look Meg gives Conner as he speaks results in a mild worried frown on her face. Courtesy first, however, even as Conner has demonstrated; Meg curtseys deeply to Jerod, odd though she thinks it must look in her Texorami garb. "Your Grace."

The man she looks upon, apparently of early middle age as well, is dressed in the uniform of a soldier, an officer of Rebma most likely, a garb that would appear to fit him extremely well despite the fact that his skin tone would seem to contradict a Rebman origin. The clothing is spartan in decoration, with minimal markings to identify the rank of the person yet it seems oddly suited to this man, someone who seems to care little for the finery that adorns the dress of others. His only personal affectation would be the silver ring that binds his long hair, keeping it restrained in the underwater currents. The few movements he makes would cement the impression that he is very much one of these people, moving with an ease of grace in the currents that comes to surfacers only through years of acclimatization.

His features are distinctive after a fashion, though Meg might gather that the term handsome is not one that would sit comfortably with him. His gaze and his expression are noteworthy, for this an individual supremely comfortable with his decisions, confident in the role of decision-maker and risk taker. But there is another behaviour there as well, bred or trained into his mannerisms, of the person who watches and listens, who observes every detail of those around him. Two forms of behaviour, diametrically opposed to each other yet seated well within this one it seems.

"Jerod." he replies. "If you are family, then you will learn very quickly that there is only one title of meaning to any of us." and he pauses, sifting memories.

Meg keeps her thoughts to herself.

"Meg...Dara's daughter. And your sons, who Huon picked up in Abford?" he says. "What are their names?"

"The two here now are Hugh and Quintilian," she answers.

Jerod frowns. "And of others?"

"I know not," answers Meg sadly, turning up sturdy hands with nails bitten to the quick. "I know that my eldest stepson took the colors of Renady, for what reason I cannot fathom, and sent Hugh and Quinn with Huon. Of the youngest two I know naught whatever; I must surmise they lived yet when Hugh and Quinn departed hence, else they had told me of the deaths." Full awareness of the extreme unlikelihood of a family reunion weighs down her already rather careworn expression.

Jerod parses her words, focussing on selected elements, fitting others into their compartments. "Then they are not your blood." he says. It would seem this has some importance to him."

Meg shakes her head slightly; they are not. She understands that blood holds significance -- more, the lack of it means insignificance. What she has done is a risk, unquestionably. Huon murders such as her sons without thinking.

This man, this intently single-minded soldier... if she and they are fortunate, he will simply overlook them after a time.

"What is their status?" he asks, glancing at Conner. "Have they engaged in actions which require an investigation under magistri militum?"

[magistri militum - the codification of Roman military law to establish tribunals and hear cases involving military offenders or enemy soldiers either in times of war or where Roman legions were the established law of frontier lands.]

"They surrendered unconditionally and have limited freedom under parole with Meg as their guarantor." Conner replies. "Hugh was Huon's second when they came to parley but to my knowledge they have done nothing more than fight as a warrior should on the field of battle. No investigations should be required."

"Ah, the good Captain Carper is it." Jerod says. "I wondered why he looked so nervous on the battle field during the parley. He seemed far more reasonable during my first encounter. Now I think I know why. I think he had an idea what Huon was planning.

"Arrange to have him questioned. We need to find out what Huon may have said in his presence. Anything that will give us a clue as to Huon's ultimate objective and who he may have been dealing with. Sometimes the most innocuous of comments can reveal volumes. I suspect he will be reasonable given his current circumstances. Should he decide to tough it out however, use my name to play bad- cop. As commander of the Guard, I am empowered to dispense military justice on behalf of Rebma during time of war. And without a sitting Queen to countermand my orders..." Jerod says with a slight, thin smile, leaving the remainder to be interpreted.

Meg holds her tongue and stills her face. This is endurable, and Meg is no less curious than Jerod about Huon's plans... moreover, she suspects that she, too, is under evaluation, and failure will do her sons no good whatever.

"In the interim, let us see what the mirror reveals. I'd like to try, with your permission." Jerod says.

"Will you join us?" Jerod asks, not quite turning to look at her.

"If Lord Conner permits," she says. She steps a half-pace closer to Conner, silently inviting Jerod to note the contrast between her upright carriage and Conner's acute battle-weariness.

Conner hands Jerod the Eye and steps to his left. He invites Meg with a gesture of the hand to step to Jerod's right. "Take a moment to concentrate Jerod. Get as clear a picture of Huon in your mind as you can. Then focus your will and that image onto the mirror." Conner instructs. "Oh and the mirror only transmits sight not sound. If you cannot read lips, make sure I can get a clear view."

Jerod nods, adjusting the mirror slightly so Conner can view the image, even though reading lips is a skill that one learns early underwater, and especially in Court.

Meg crosses in front of Jerod rather than behind him; he does not seem the sort of man one cares to sneak up on, even innocently. She takes up her station at his shoulder, touching neither him nor the mirror.

He takes several moments to pull the image of Huon from his mind, collecting the impressions that he had compiled from his meeting, the sparring session, actual combat and even Huon's initial capture, building a representation in his mind, giving it substance and feel, the memory of smell and touch, even that unqualified attitude that comes to one who is a Prince of the blood, before focussing the image into the mirror. He looks only for the image, not the image first saw Conner to produce, to ensure that he does not do anything to taint the process.

Jerod sees nothing reflected in the mirror for long moments. He can't tell if he's seeing nothing or if there is nothing to see.

"Conner...do you see anything?" Jerod asks uncertainly, continuing to focus. "Is the mirror bound by restrictions of trumps, such as available light?"

"I do not see anything but it does not feel like a failure of the mirror." Conner replies. "It shows what is in the place viewed. It may be that we see a faithful depiction of darkness." Conner looks to Jerod. "I think you might be the expert here. Huon knows he's pissed off Rebma. How would you act to thwart a mirror user?"

"No mirrored surfaces." Jerod says automatically, the various rituals to counter surveillance coming to mind automatically. "Darkness, excessive light, coarse surfaces that cannot be polished, no basins of water, dark liquids for drink. The list is endless."

"Squid ink, in these environs, to walk in," Meg adds, thinking of how she found her sons.

He hands back the mirror to Conner. "Thank you for the opportunity. I would recommend further attempts later. Khela has expressed a desire for pursuing him. I've already told her that should he cross my path, family obligations will no longer apply."

Meg's right hand clenches into a tight fist at her side. She says nothing, however.

"Understood." Conner nods. "I will try again when I am rested. I can enhance the mirror with my own magicks to allow sounds to be heard. He may hide in shadows but if he speaks to the darkness I will hear the voice." Conner promises. "For now, we must see to the march." Conner turns to Meg. "Did you seek me out with a purpose, Meg? I thought you wished to rest."

Meg bows her head in apology for troubling him again. "After chatting with my sons..." Her glance upward conveys amusedly that the chat had been more of a maternal scolding. "They have decided they've a duty to their commands, and asked to be quartered with them, should that be agreeable to you. I believe that they will hold to the parole given them."

Conner thinks on this a moment. "Very well," he decides, "but be sure they and you understand that you are their surety. Any punishments for breaking Rebman law will apply to you as well."

"I understand and accept the risk," Meg says, lifting her head a trifle, "and they have been most roundly told that some straits their mother cannot remedy. Gramercy, Lord Conner; and at least we may offer you the proper return of your lodgings."

"What do they believe are the straits that they face?" Jerod asks.

"When first they came before Lord Conner, I said that I would not contradict any judgment handed down by the Queen of Rebma," Meg says. "While we spoke together, I told them outright that I have hardly any standing to help them. I did not raise idiot children; they know they were found despite the precautions they took in flight -- so they know that should they flee, they will only be found again, and should they fight with the bare hands left them, they will only die."

"Such is a simple answer." Jerod replies, a vague, almost bored tone in his voice. "Now let us ask a more demanding question. What do your sons believe they face here? I'm not talking about punishment or consequences. What did they think they were accomplishing here?"

"No doubt we shall find out in the course of questioning." Conner comments. "If Hugh and Quinn are typical of the officers, I get the feeling they left the higher planning to Huon and simply followed orders. I've raised troops in Shadow with similar trust levels. Still, as you said before, they may know more than they think they do. We shall find out."

Meg nods agreement with this; it is her estimation as well, for somewhat different reasons.

"I'm sure. You make a good comment though. I was thinking however about the means by which Huon actually raised his troops." Jerod says. "That says something about him. We know there are a couple of different ways to do so. The easiset is the path of godhood, but we both know the pitfalls of following that path. The more difficult but flexible path is to find individuals of a similar mindset, those who follow or believe in a more generalized goal or ideal.

"It takes more time, but the troops tend to follow more because of conscious choice than preset conditioning. The mindset would also tend to be stronger in the officers, as the leaders of the troops on Huon's behalf and he would select individuals who more closely aligned with his overall objective, even if he never deliberately told them what it was."

He looks at Conner. "Identify the common ideal, and we have another piece of Huon. Sitting right in front of us."

"A third possibility there may be," Meg suggests, stone-faced. "My sons tell me they thought me dead; now that I consider their words again, I believe that Abford was sacked by the kingdom of Renady. I can well imagine Huon aided that sack, and provided yet more service to the crown with an inestimably convenient conscription of such arms-worthy folk as remained in Abford."

"In that case, why Abford?" Jerod asks. "Random probability does not suit our family. He was there for a reason."

"Meg's long stay there would have made things more real. That could have attracted him." Conner opines. Conner takes a moment to think back on old conversation. "It had the capacity to produce firearms and soldiers in large numbers. There is also the curious incident of the bracelet." Conner adds. "It was left there as surety for Meg's fosterage. Huon said words to the effect that it and Celina reminded him of better times in Rebma and he gave it to Celina as a gift. This could point to a previous encounter with Abford or the bracelet at least." Conner sighs. "So many little loose ends." Conner stops for a moment. "When I last spoke with you and group that scouted Abford Meg, Ossian claimed that Huon did not plan to return to Abford for at least a generation. I wonder if his troops knew that."

Meg holds her voice steady, glad once again that tears are meaningless in Rebma. How many of her children, her friends, survived Renady's onslaught? Had any? And had her presence caused it? "Plans change, and Huon lies... but that Renady used him as a banner, that I can well believe. 'Protector,' they call him -- he abandoned his own army!"

"Shadow reflects what happens in the places of power." Jerod says to Meg, partly distracted. "That he abandoned his army is not surprising. Even if they had the same focus as he, he would view them as a resource used in pursuit of a goal, nothing more." He looks at her more closely, then turns to Conner.

"Even with the blood, without initiation to the Pattern the amount of reality in Abford would be less than if one of us was there for the same time frame. But even assuming that influence attracted him there, why would Huon bother returning? What is the benefit, beyond material needs? And why wait a generation? That implies an experiment, a view to long term change of some kind to see if something has happened.

"Does Celina still have the bracelet?"

"To my knowledge she does though she does not wear it." Conner replies. "She was afraid the gift might have significance beyond sentimental and so decided to keep it shrouded within a cloth bag."

Jerod scowls for a moment. "Artifacts of Rebma have a feel to them, if you know what to look for. It is not magical by any means, but if it was made here, it will be noticeable after a fashion. We'll have to wait and see, but if she returns, I would recommend that it be investigated."

Conner concurs. "It has been on the agenda for some time but it kept slipping further down the list."

"In the interim, there is still much to do. The Guard is needed possibly to deal with Huon's escaping troops. As for you and your troops, Khela appears eager to undertake her coronation, the sooner to consolidate her position no doubt. She's looking for your return with the men. I doubt I will remain for the ceremony if it is overlong in the preparation. Other..." Jerod says, before stopping momentarily, looking outwards to the distance and the troops, though the impression might be that he is looking far beyond even that.

"...other duties require me elsewhere." he continues. "Is there anything here that you have need of me for."

"Nothing official," Conner replies. "but..." Conner hesitates a moment. "I wanted to offer my condolences, Jerod. She will be missed."

For a moment it appears that Jerod has not heard him, or anyone for that matter. For the moment, all that he knows is the memory of leaving his home, of the feel of that first day above the waves in an alien world, the loss of the waves.

He remembers the fear of being in a room of strangers, too bright and too loud, young and without any breath from the thinness of the alien air. So long ago but still so recent. And he remembers a stranger who was family giving him something to drink, water and ginger. She said it would make things easier, and it did.

He wishes now he could have some of that now.

Jerod nods before turning back. "She will be missed." he says quietly, before the mask slides back into place.

"Your troops did well today. You should be proud of them. You did well too."

A compliment from Jerod? For a moment, Conner's smile is the goofy grin of a student getting a gold star from a particularly exacting teacher. Then his usual slight grin slips back into place. "Thank you, Jerod, but it would have all been for naught without your timely intervention. It was good to fight along side you this day."

Jerod does not appear to take notice of Conner's expression for that brief instance, whether due to distraction or a desire to avoid awkward conversation is open to interpretation.

"Indeed. I will inform my men of your compliments for their efforts this day." he says. "It will be good for them to hear.

"While making the Guard ready, I will be contacting Random and Corwin, to advise them of the results here and that Huon rejected the initial offer of amnesty. They'll need to know what happened to prepare for Huon's next move. Brennan was with Bleys and Caine when I returned here so I'm sure they'll be getting updated from his perspective. I would recommend you make sure your mother is advised at the earliest convenience, plus anyone else you deem appropriate. News of his actions, and the depths he has sunk to, must be made known to everyone." Jerod says, before adding a wolfish smile. "Including that we kicked his ass."

"I wish I had been there to see that." Conner smiles back. "Once I have the opportunity I shall spread the word. I had intended to speak to Mother and Bleys about the battle in any case. There are far too many questions about Huon's tactics I would have answered."

"Indeed. Given that I speared him quite well during our fight, I would be curious as to how he could keep from bleeding. It would be good to know how to defeat that." Jerod says.

"Until later. We both have much to do unfortunately." and he turns slightly to Meg. "Perhaps we shall meet again, under better circumstances."

Meg has been more than content to watch Conner and Jerod, learning what she may. When Jerod addresses her directly, she curtseys again. "May it be so, Your Gra -- Jerod. Gramercy to you for your great patience, and my sorrow as well for your loss."

He nods a return. "Lady."

To Conner. "General."

And with that, he turns and collecting Drusus, departs.


Conner watches Jerod swim off for a moment and then turns back to Meg. "I do hope we weren't talking too far above your head." Conner apologizes with his smile. "So much is going on that it takes us awhile to get people up to speed. Have you any questions?"

"Dozens," Meg answers, "but nothing that will not wait for you to have a meal and a rest. Have you a squire, or other attendant to call upon?"

"Not yet." Conner admits. "Things have moved too swiftly for such social niceties to be attended to." Conner shrugs. "Besides, Khela intends for our troops to make a triumphant march into the city. Rest and food will have to wait for a bit."

"How soon may we expect her? I do not doubt your men are disciplined, General -- surely enough to form up without your oversight." Meg purses her lips momentarily. "Perhaps a compromise: my sons wait in your tent, and His Grace has asked that they be questioned. You may question them as well seated as standing, not so?"

Conner smiles at Meg's kindness. He turns to some of the Swift near him. He gives further instructions to be spread to the subcommanders for the march into the city. Then he requests a light meal be brought to his tent. "Come Meg. Let's talk to your sons again." Conner swims beside her slowly back to his quarters such as they are.

"Indeed." Meg returns Conner's smile, genuinely glad that the man can smile after such a day as he has had, a day of peril and pain and death. "I thought I had had a time of it this day -- but I would not trade mine for yours for all the gold in Renady!"

She is considerably less adroit in the water than Conner, but she does possess strength and native grace more than sufficient to the purpose.

The command tent is nearby, and has two guards, one human and one triton, outside of it. The human stands straighter as Conner approaches and the triton flexes his belly-scales. For all that they are a successful field army, they are clearly not a professional army.

"As you were." Conner nods to the guards and pulls the flap aside for Meg to enter first. "After you, cousin."

"Gramercy, cousin." Courtesy soothes Meg's shredded nerves, despite the mild suspicion that she is a convenient shield against any devilry Conner thinks her sons may have cooked up. Devilry or no, Meg precedes Conner into the tent without demur.

The officers rise when Meg and Conner enter, but do not speak. There is no evidence of devilry, or even of activity. The lads look to have been well-behaved prisoners.

Meg smiles at her sons, to signal that their situation has in no way worsened, and then glances over the tent to mark the likeliest place for Conner to ensconce himself. She then goes to the spot precisely halfway between that place and her sons.

Conner seats himself in a chair by his map table and smiles at the Carper boys. "Well, we are preparing to march into the city and I have agreed to let you return to your men for that march. Before you go however, there are a few questions I wish to put to you. We will start simply with some general history. Tell me how Huon came to be your Lord Protector. How did he rise to power?"

Hugh looks to his mother, then answers. "He came to Abford from Renady with a Renadiac Army, and the Ponca, all with Guns. He blew down our city gates, demonstrated that he could blow down our walls, and offered us the option of submitting or being an example the likes of which the world had never known."

Quinn nods. "We had the choice between being minor powers in a great empire or dead. We chose rich over dead, as a people."

Meg folds her lips tight, half-relieved, half-appalled. At least her home was not left in physical ruins. Political ruins may... perhaps... be remedied.

As for their choice, she admits it is the decision she would have made, had she the stature to make it. She makes a mental note that she owes Quinn and Devon Sawyer an apology; she had thought them glory-mad fools, but it seems they were conscript.

She looks toward Conner with a small shrug, having nothing to add.

Conner nods in sympathy. "That seems to be Huon's way. Submit to his wishes or suffer annihilation." Conner leans forward. "So let's continue the narrative. Now that Huon has Abford, what does he ask of you? What seemed to be his reason for conquering your town?"

Hugh says "We were armed and sent out to conquer the continent. We were a source of men and, once we were taught to do it, manufacturing. The Renaidic League is civilizing the world, and making it peaceful and prosperous."

Meg takes tight hold of her voice. "And why would you think me dead, if you surrendered to avoid bloodshed? Were there purges?" Or had Huon come to Abford partly in search of her, perhaps at Dara's insistence?

Quinn tightens his lips. "We didn't surrender immediately. Just pretty quickly. There were fires and you weren't there afterwards. Also, Renady had had it worse, and if you hadn't been at home, we thought you might have been there.

"We figured you were dead when you didn't come back after things became calm again. The sisters held a nice memorial for you."

"I am sorry, my lads," Meg says quietly. "I am sorry I disappeared without trace."

Conner pauses a moment for Meg to react then continues his questioning. "So your peaceful and prosperous army is then led out of Abford by your Lord Protector. Tell me of the journey. What peoples and places did Huon deal with on his march to Rebma? For that matter, what did Huon tell you that you were fighting for?"

Hugh finally cracks, laughing a brief bitter laugh.

"Peace. A better world. Our duty to the people of the world to uplift them from their barbarism. To keep you from coming to our home and punishing us because the Protector told us your secrets. My fellows are probably not as disillusioned as I am, but I heard what he threatened you with, and I am no longer convinced we were fighting for Heaven's causes."

Conner favors Hugh with a sympathetic smile. "You got caught in the middle of a family squabble, Captain Carper. No more and no less." Conner informs him. "Two of them if you count the Rebman civil war." Connor sighs. "Among my family, the story is that Huon was exiled from our lands for fratricide and his name was so accursed to the King that Huon was stricken from our official histories. It is clear that he has spent his time nursing his hatreds." Conner leans forward. "Would it interest you to know that all this death and destruction was for the purpose of gaining one sword?" Conner scowls. "He was willing to sacrifice the entire people of Rebma, his army, you," Conner jabs his finger at the young man, "to obtain a weapon he hoped would gain him an advantage in a vendetta against his family."

Conner sits back and runs a hand through his hair. "We need to be sure he does not threaten Rebma so again. So please, think back and think hard. Tell me what he told you of his plans. Tell me about those that you met on your journey. Who helped him in this?"

Hugh shrugs. "I do not know, My Lord. He would frequently disappear for days at a time, and sometimes had odd visitors. There was a green woman, the first I had seen. Perhaps she was from here? She came to Abford and he gave her gifts."

"If there was only one such green skinned lady, then I know of that meeting." Conner replies.

"She was with a man, but we only saw one like that, before we went underwater. That's the only one I saw. There may have been more. He talked about a sister, and he came to Renady with a small army of red men."

Hugh glances at his step-mother, almost involuntarily, as if he has something he might wish to tell her privately. He looks back to Conner.

Meg notes the look, but makes no overt sign, neither to Hugh nor to Conner, that she has heeded it.

Quinn says, "What little we know of The Protector's family we learned from him. He never mentioned fratricide, for one thing."

"Well, it is hardly the sort of thing one mentions!" Meg sniffs. "Even he is not quite so lost to decency as that. What did he say of his ancestry and his connections, then?"

Conner nods his approval of the question and waits for them to answer.

Quinn replies, "His father set his brother to kill him for disobedience, and he nearly died, but survived and went to ground. His father had died and he could bring about great progress to Renady and other places, but his brother, still blinded by their father's lies, must be removed first."

Hugh snorts. "It sounded better under Abford's skies."

"We are a candid folk, in Abford," Meg says. "Some would call us credulous, I doubt not. I do not wonder they believed Huon... nor that Renady overawed them."

Meg grew up orphaned; she was somewhat less candid, less easy to overawe. If SHE had been there... Huon would have murdered her on the spot, of course, in sight of her sons and her friends. She sighs quietly, rippling the water before her face.

"So he knew of Oberon's death." Conner murmurs softly. "I wonder who briefed him on that." Not expecting an answer, Conner moves on. "Let us return for a moment to the question of Huon's allies. There were a great many spellworkers in your camps that conjured those shark constructs. What do you know about them?"

Hugh shrugs. "Them? Very little. They stayed to themselves. We picked them up in his sister's world. One of his sister's worlds. Same sort of deal. We hit them with our men and the Pooca guns and then we had wizards and infantry and we were unbeatable. We had to keep the wizards away from the army. They were all heathen atheists and would've upset the men, both ours and the red ones. The Lord Protector made them keep apart.

"Anyway, we tore through their world, then we went to the place where the water meets the land. The wizards really loved that place. They said it had lots of power to tap.

"Weird place, that. They had a bunch of ships that were made for sinking. But they helped out as well. I think a few of them even joined us. That place had some sort of rivalry with Rebma, they said."

Conner's ears prick up at the mention of where they picked up their wiazrds. "His sister's world you said?" Conner leans forward. "What was the sister's name? What was the world's name?" Conner demands. "Tell me all you can remember of that place."

Hugh pauses. "Icy Belle? Something like that."

Quinn doesn't quite control his gulp. "The wizards didn't really have a name for their world. 'The True World', they called it. When they weren't around, Huon laughed at that."

Conner says nothing for a long moment. "Thank you for your help in this matter. When I have had time to digest what you have told me, we will talk again. For now, you may rejoin your men as you have requested."

Meg curtseys. "Thank you, Lord Conner. I will take them there, if you will permit."

The two officers stand and, with Conner's permission, depart, being led by Meg.


As Jerod swims away with Drusus and surveying the state of his troops, his first words are simple and direct.

"Report status."

Drusus provides a list of casualties, which is light but not trivial, reports on the quality of the fighting and discipline of the men (good under difficult circumstances and excellent, respectively), and provides several examples of individual bravery or heroism that he feels should be rewarded. The men are in high spirits. They like easy victories.

Jerod likes easy victories as well. He does not mention his belief that they life is rarely ever so accommodating.

He questions Drusus on his comments concerning those he recommends for citation, verifying the identities of the individuals and circumstances of their valour, witnesses who can be questioned for verification if needed, looking to eliminate or reduce possible issues where an award granted might be seen as favoritism to a politically connected soldier. That the troops did well is personally gratifying and he advises Drusus that he will need to arrange after-battle briefings to determine where to make improvements.

When they reach the perimeter of the Guard, Jerod summons one and instructs him to inform the captains to marshal the men for a march and a short message. Once that is done and the man swims off, Jerod takes Drusus aside.

"There is not much time so we'll deal with the important matters first." Jerod says. "First, Huon is defeated but he escaped. It is certain he will return, though whether he comes here is unknown. The Guard will need to stand ready against that possible threat. Which means you'll have your work cut out for you.

"Second, my sister in Amber is dead. I do not know the full circumstances, only that it is probably not an accident. I had originally accepted the commission knowing it was temporary, but as our circumstances change, I noted the possibility of permanency to this position. Now however, circumstances change again. I have informed Khela that I will resign the commission shortly. And I will apologize in advance for this, because I intend for you to replace me." he says, looking at Drusus for his reaction.

Drusus nods, soberly. "If that is the Queen's will, I shall do my duty." It is not an enthusiastic response, but it is entirely consistent with an officer of noble breeding accepting a commission. "I am sorry to hear about your sister, and of course, if there is anything the guard can do, or I or my family can do, you have but to ask."

Jerod returns the nod. "I don't ask this lightly. It is not my preferred choice. Between us, I do not desire to see Khela upon the throne. There is more than enough from her past to make me leery. But Moire has fled and their feud, or what stands for it, is upon us. It was this way with my father and his brother. I did not desire the burning of Garnath, or the march of Corwin's army into the city and the deaths that ensued.

"But our desires are rarely considered in the grand scheme of things. What is certain is that we must face what will come. Rest assured, the feud will come full circle and Moire and Khela will come to open blows. When that time comes, many will choose sides. The ways of Court are ingrained and easy to follow for lesser men unwilling or unready to stand for their own principles. When that happens, avenues of misfortune await us.

"We will be in disarray and that will weaken us while those in power fight. Even as a best case, this is not desired for it pits many against each other for no reason other than the desires of those in power. As well, others outside our kingdom may see our weakness and choose to act upon it. In either case, I need someone who can keep the Guard isolated from the politics of the feud.

"So I ask a distasteful duty of you my friend, for the simple reason that I need someone who will stand for their principles and put the people first. Someone I can trust."

Drusus nods. "I will endeavor to be so, Commander. Ours is an ancient and noble lineage, though not so noble as yours. We do not wish to return to the troubles that existed after Moins died. I appreciate the trust you place in me."

Jerod chuckles a little. "My nobility may be in more question than you would realize. A long line stands for little against the deeds of those who truly believe.

"I will trust you to look out for those in our ranks who may not appreciate the message that I will deliver this day. The X.O. sees much more than the men ever let the Commander see." he says. "I want to inspect the men and give the captains a warning as to their marching orders. But all must be told what may happen in the days to come. They paid for that knowledge with their blood. Some will desire to return to the old ways, and others to garner new advancement under a Queen whose hold is not yet fully secure. Give me your opinion as we go."

With that, Jerod will commence an inspection, looking to see how the troops are faring, the extent of the losses for himself, their reactions to their victory and their attitudes for the future. Questions about their actions and conduct, appropriate remarks of praise for individual as well as collective gallantry are offered, as well as sympathy for the loss of friends. He listens carefully to everything that Drusus says, and does not say, comparing it to the behaviour of the men as he speaks to them. He will use this to acquire a feeling for how they are, awaiting them final marshalling of the formation before he steps forward to address them.

There are definitely men who are unhappy to have helped Khela take the throne, and who feel as if they should have turned on the rebels after beating Huon. Drusus seems unperturbed. He expects to lose some men, but it will depend on the political positions of their sisters and wives. Drusus also expects some of these men to be married off quickly as political alignments shift in the new environment. He'll have a different unit the next time Jerod comes by, but he hopes to retrain enough of a core to retain the character of Jerod's Guard.

The greener troops are anxious to face Huon again, and beat him for good. The most experienced ones seem resigned to it.

The men assemble for Jerod to address them.

Jerod looks over the men as they assemble and raises his spear. He remains silent as the front rank of the men watches, letting their silence reach back through the ranks, stilling the habitual whispers and comments that seems to pervade soldiers when they come to hear of news good or ill.

As the silence takes hold, he lets his gaze move, picking out men and looking at them directly, letting the moment take hold, letting each man go silent and become part of the moment, turning a gathering of many into a conversation as between two people.

"Militis victoria." Jerod says, letting his voice carry through the ranks without shouting. "Militis veneratio.

"This morning the Defiler Huon stood before our gates demanding our surrender. I ask you to look around for a moment and see who it was that fled the field this day, and who still stands on guard before our gates.

"On this day, victory is rightfully ours. For those who fell this day, we offer our prayers that they died for something worthy. For those who still stand to savour this moment, I give you my thanks and my charge.

"We stand on the edge of the razor today, on the eve of great change. Moire no longer sits upon the throne and it is certain that Khela will soon take that place. I have no doubt each of us will look upon this change with your own opinion and I would not deny you that. For those who have shed blood this day for our people, you have earned that right.

"I will also say that you have earned the duty of your comrades." he says, pointing to the remains of the Guard who had fallen and been collected from the battlefield. "When you make your decisions in the days ahead on how to approach this day, remember well those who have no voice with which to speak. Those who were your brothers, who fought beside you and who died beside you. Those who gave everything they had for something they believed was more important than their lives.

"It is an easy decision to ignore what will happen and pretend there will be no change. It is an even easier one to join the change to profit from it." Jerod says, his voice hardening. "I expect better from the Guard. In the days to come, when change is rife on the waves, when the weak and the ambitious seek greatness for their own benefit, the time will come for each of you to make a decision. I expect you to look not to the benefit of your position, to your house or your wives and sisters and mothers. I expect you to look to the benefit of your people. You are the Guard, you stand where no others dare to stand, and you hold ground hallowed by your brothers' sacrifice.

"Do not forget what you and your brothers fought for this day. And let no one else forget it."

The men are by turns loud, proud, thoughtful, and determined. Those who had not considered what victory might mean now contemplate it. For some there is elation at the thought of returning to Rebma, others seem less sure.

Lamell comes up to Jerod afterwards, smoking a cigarette. He offers one to Jerod, a rare thing for a magician to do.

Jerod accepts the gift that is offered, and the compliment.

"It's a pity they were born men. So much natural political talent and knowledge soaked up at their mothers' knees. Do you know why Septimus is named Septimus? He was his mother's seventh. Not a child that was highly prized."

Lamell takes a long drag of his cigarette. "If I could make them Magicians, I would. If you wanted to give these men a future, you'd lead them away from here, those who wanted to leave."

"Instead I put them on a path that for some will lead only to death. For the good of the kingdom." Jerod says. "My father told me once, that to be a leader was to be a father, a mentor and a bastard in disguise, all at once. Now I understand it."

He takes a moment to collect his thoughts, smoking the cigarette. "My sister in Amber is dead. I will be leaving once I have arranged for Drusus to take my place. I'm assuming mom is with Moire but where they are I'm not sure I'll have time to find. I've got a feeling it's not far though. Moire won't run - she'll go looking for allies, or a bastion from which to plan. If Khela thinks she's gained ascendancy she's foolish. All she's done is tie herself to a stationary place. While Moire is now free to maneuver.

"I need your advice, and your help my old teacher. For better or worse, Khela is on the throne. What's next? I'm not interested in her public statements. What's she up to? What are her private goals?"

Lamell takes another drag on his smoke, the end turning from dull to bright red in a way that is wholly unnatural underwater. "Before you were born, Khela roped Prince Martin and some others into supporting her against Moire over the subject of Triton's rights. She made it look like there was a real conspiracy to take the throne. The conservative elements had all the commoners killed and the royals banished or punished, and Khela has hated her Aunt since then.

"She'll certainly 'free the tritons', but what else? Based on what I heard and saw, she's got a three-headed triton of an approach. First, olive branches and friendship all around. That started before she won. Take, for example, you. Second, the continued threat of Huon serves her beautifully. Third, she's got something magical in reserve.

"You can either get what you can from her, or try to hold on to your debt, expecting that she might pass over killing your sisters because of you." He shrugs.

"I know you know the lifespan of the debt of royal gratitude, though."

"Indeed. About twenty seconds after I get what I want." Jerod says drily. "And thirty seconds after I figure she's stalled me long enough to prove she's jacking me around.

"Unless she's extremely dumb she'll figure out that anything happening to family, or loyal servants, is going to be suspected as having her hand behind it regardless of any protests or evidence that may be proferred. And we both know how little faith royals put in official evidence and how much more we like vendettas.

"That said, you may want to watch your butt to ensure you don't become collateral damage from someone trying to get me pissed off at her."

Lamell nods. Apparently that thought has occurred to him as well.

Jerod finishes the cigarette, breathing out with a slight touch of exasperation. "According to certain family members, who shall remain nameless, Khela's not initiated into the royal family of Amber, though that statement is as yet not verified. And a conversation with Martin some time ago indicated that Khela has a real dark streak to her, that she dabbled in stuff best left untouched. It makes me wonder what she got her fingers into when she was in exile and how she got her hands on Weyland's little trinket.

"If you were going to go looking for such power and had been banished from the kingdom without access to any of your traditional allies here, where would you start first?"

"With her enemies? They would be likely to be willing to do damage to the Queen's cause and to have information that they had no reason to give to Rebma. She had many. The tritons' priests, your father, Gateway. Many."

"And the first three you mentioned are the same that I've brought to mind already. A pity my father is not around to speak to this point." Jerod says. "The priests are not as likely to be forthcoming I suspect. Perhaps a return to Gateway is in order then. I might have to take up the Chancellor on her offer.

"Unless you intend to depart from Rebma, I've got a job for you, ideally suited to your talents. Care to guess?" he says, smiling slightly.

"You know well, My Prince, that I never care to guess. A job that does not end with me being pushed from the stairs would be my preference."

"Well, we know how easy that was under Moire. Let us hope the new Queen is more benevolent. And has fewer spies." Jerod says. "Intelligence gathering. Watch, gather, sift. If it's urgent, send it. If it's not, sit on it until I return.

"I want to know what she's up to, who she's dealing with and why. And I also want to know who won't deal with her, who's watching her, who's conniving against her. The obvious stuff will wash up in the surf. It's the deep players I want to know about, the ones who nudge from the kelp beds. Moire would have contigency plans and allies to aid a return. I want to know them.

"I also want more digging on mom and what she had in the works. And finally, a watch on my sisters. That is your order of priority as well. Any questions or comments?"

"Hmmm. I am who I am. I will be approached, and watched. In your absence, my presence may be taken as an indicator of your position. Someone's will be, in any case."

Lamell resumes his usual lazy pose, so at odds with his sharp, sharp mind.

"If it is to be me, what posture do you wish to take by proxy?"

"You will be my mother's man, as always." Jerod says. "Open to suggestions, diplomatic as always, nasty if pushed, watching for the future and mindful of past choices. Mother's position was tied to Moire certainly and her departure makes things questionable, but she kept her own interests for sure. Be sure to guard those interests for her eventual return.

"Finally, with Random now ruling from Xanadu and my sister's death, my ties to the home of my birth are likely to increase as my connections to the outside are reduced. I will decide soon enough how much that reduction will represent. You will make it known, when and where it is appropriate, that a Prince of Amber now takes an interest in home and to those who might threaten its stability. Determine those who deem that to be of interest, and those foolish enough to think that because Amber no longer exists, Princes are no longer a problem.

"Oh, and the definition of stability will remain a question mark for now."

Lamell shrugs. "No one expects a Prince of Amber to be happy in Rebma. There's no historical precedent for it.

"Have you heard from your mother? Or Martin?"

"No." Jerod says. "On either count."

Lamell pauses, then decides to ask anyway. "What of your sister? Khela's prisoner, I hear. Unlikely to cooperate with the new regime."

"Loreena most certainly is not likely to cooperate. But without Mother or Moire, she will be reliant upon her own resources. Those will be monitored and watched by Khela, if not Llewella. Some will remain loyal, others will find it more profitable to be co-opted I'm sure." Jerod says. "I'm relying on Loreena's intrasigence to keep Khela occupied, if only for brief periods and as a minor irritant. I doubt she's going to do anything that would be a threat to the new realm, but Khela will know better than to try to kill her. That would force my hand against her and I'll have a long time to nurse my vengeance.

"I have considered the possibility she might exile Loreena. It would be a way to neutralize her from her assets at Court, and she might seek out Mother and Moire for support, which would help Khela to monitor them. There are some political disadvantages to this course of action, but that depends on how it is spun. Done properly, it could significantly work to her favor. It would also work to mine."

Lamell nods. "It has risks. Khela was exiled and yet she both found allies and came back in arms, but it would have risks for Loreena as well. If she came back too soon, Khela would be well-established. If she waited too long, she would be in Llewella's position...

"Very well. I'll take this on. It's a better position than I'd be in as your mother's agent, or presumed agent, or as a free-lance spellcaster. Not than anyone will believe I'm not working for your mother."

"If those who view your actions wish to provide you with a ready-made disguise, you should never be so rude as to correct them." Jerod offers. "Be careful, my old friend."

"Hmf. You just remember that when you recall which of us went blade-to-blade with Huon. Wizards who are careless don't get old."

Lamell looks over the several armies to the city walls. "Your relatives are the most amazing opportunists who've ever breathed water, seems to me. All of 'em."

"Of course." Jerod chuckles. "How else do you think we live so long?"

Lamell smiles weakly. "I know that one. Sheer stubbornness. A desire to prove your kinfolk were wrong by outliving them." He looks over Jerod's shoulder. "Looks like the other army is starting to form up for the march."

"Places everyone." Jerod says, more to himself than anyone else.


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Last modified: 5 November 2009