Soldiering for Rebma


"In fiction, a funeral like this would happen in the rain on a distant shadow's hillside, and we'd feel remorse, or a burning desire to avenge the boys, or we'd've had some big epiphany or something. All I feel is glad it wasn't me." Lamell is seated and has a glass of brandy in his hand. "We've spent three months chasing around the tail end of the Southernmost Seaward and looking for your sister on the side, and all we've got to show for it is a few lousy pirates. A glory to the great Kingdom of Rebma and all, but you've got the best trained and equipped units in Greater Nowhere."

"What, Colonel Your Grace Jerod, Duke of Rebma, are we still doing out here? I'm convinced this is a wild eel chase."

Jerod finishes pouring his own glass carefully, a smile on his face. "I was convinced of this a few days after we left." he says. "I was never sanguine about the idea of sending out a bunch of heavily armed men and mages to blunder around hoping that trouble would find it. I prefer to let trouble find me, in a secure, well-defended and provisioned position.

"I was hoping that our Queen might have had some intelligence to work from. Or at least a mirror vision." and he sits down at the table. "Unfortunately such was not to be. At least the men are better trained, for what that's worth.

"We need to get a message back home, find out if anything new has come in. Can you accomodate?"

"I can fire a message back to Rebma, and you and I can spend the next few days vainly looking in mirrors for a reply.

"I'd be happier if you decided to start us back home, or even around the Seaward, showing the flag. This waiting makes my shoulder blades itch."

He shrugs himself to a sitting position. "All right, messages. What do you want to say and to whom, Oh My Prince?"

"To the Queen. Advise her that pending new intelligence we are returning to Rebma and that we have encountered no signs that would indicate the presence of Loreena or any individual or organization that may have been involved in her disappearance. If the Queen really wants to send us a reply, I'm sure it will get through." Jerod says, before calling to the tent guard. "Summon Gaius Drusus."

The guard salutes and hurries off.

"Cheer up old friend. You'll be back with the ladies and the fineries of civilized life in no time." Jerod says. "Unless I get my wish."

The magician nods, and pulls out a cigarette. He lights it with a word and the water takes on a strange smell. He turns it over and begins to write smoky letters in the air with the lit end. It is a slow, meticulous process.

After some minutes, Drusus arrives. "You sent for me, Colonel?"

Jerod has watched Lamell's activity quietly during the few minutes it took for Drusus to appear. He really needs to learn a little magic some time.

Assuming it ever permits, he realizes.

"In a moment, I want you to give the orders to have the men break camp and prepare to move out. We are returning to Rebma." Jerod says. "Determine a rotational assignment for patrol duty. Double the number of scout pods and keep the men at tactical level. That goes for the officers as well as the men. We're still under orders and I want them on their toes until an hour after we're through the gates. Anyone who decides that we're on an easy ride home will find themselves busted down to squidge before they can blink."

"Oh, and those two nitwits that you busted for gambling. They're what, two days into the five for roughing it? Cancel out the remainder and send them back to their unit. They're to return to duty and keep clean." Jerod says, waiting for Drusus' to acknowledge the orders.

"Yes sir," he nods.

"Before that, how are things so far? Any trouble areas we need to be concerned about?" he says, having relied on Drusus' opinion when his own is not valid for the moment, and having made clear that Drusus can speak his mind on any topic when the men are out of earshot. Disagreements are never bad to have amongst commanding officers. You just have to be clear as to when to have those disagreements, and when to have a clear message for the men.

"No concerns, Colonel. The men will want to know if they will have liberty when we return to Rebma. The officers will want to know how fast to move the unit. We are, if Captain Septimus has recorded things correctly, four weeks' march from home, three if we hurry, six if we stop at any of the Seaward Outposts to impress the locals."

He pauses for a moment. "There will be some grumbling about not letting down our guard after we 'won', but nothing the officers and sergeants can't handle, and 'going home' will help with that. They'd be happier if they could have some sort of victory celebration."

"Celebrations come when you have actually earned them." Jerod says, rising from his chair to walk for a moment. "We found nothing, despite the Queen's idea that there was something to find."

Drusus nods.

He stops for a moment to consider the options, balancing longer periods out amidst the Seaward and the possibility of garnering more training time versus the desire to return, to gain home intelligence and determine a new strategy.

"Tell the captains and sergeants we return at normal march, four weeks. Rushing back inspires people to be lazy and lose their edge. And wandering around to impress the locals gives egos too much time to grow, and that makes for carelessness. As for the victory celebration, have it dropped through the grapevine that the march back is the Guard's final test.

"If they screw up, then there will be hell to pay. If they can remain sharp, focussed and disciplined, with no screw-ups and everyone on their toes for the return march, then liberty and celebration will be forthcoming. As only a Duke of Rebma, and a Prince of Amber, knows how to provide.

"Will that suit the bill?"

"Of course, Colonel. That should keep them in line until we're close enough that they decide they don't want to be on a punishment detail when we return. Or it will keep the long-term thinkers straight, at least." He pauses. "Anything else, sir?"

Jerod shakes his head. "No, that should do." he says. "You've done well Drusus. You're exactly what a new colonel needed."

"Thank you, sir," says Drusus, and leaves to implement the orders.

Lamell looks up. "If we head over by Redcoral Current and stop at the Shell of Baleen, it may be possible to make direct contact with Rebma."

"How so?" Jerod asks.

Lamell shrugs, as well as he can from his chair. "Countess of Redcoral's has a court magician who's a cousin of mine. He and I can get through from there, I think. Only problem is if she's still between husbands and starts eyeing you or Drusus."

It would add a few days to the trip, but not very many.

"Face an unknown enemy by blundering around through the wilderness, or the clutches of the Countess of Redcoral." Jerod muses. "Should've called up Uncle Julian and offered to take on the Dragon. Would've been safer."

"The Dragon is a legend, she doesn't exist," says Lamell.

"You can provide Drusus with instructions on how we should approach. And you can tell me what to expect from the good Countess, and how best to avoid her intrigues, assuming they suit us to avoid them."

Lamell shrugs. "The latter is easy enough. Baleen seeks advantage, because the countess is dissatisfied with her lot in life. She'll take material advantages like favorable trade deals, but what really interests her is social, up to and including promotion by marriage. As long as you go in with your eyes open and your purse closed, you can't miss the signs."

"The obvious gambits." Jerod says. "I will be sure to remember my old lessons, teacher. I would not wish to disappoint you.

"And as for the Dragon being a legend, I'm afraid I have to disappoint you. It does exist. A cousin of mine was recently killed by it, one of the sons of Prince Julian. It is the reason why Arden has always had a Warden, to ensure the Dragon remains in its slumber. That time has passed and the Dragon stirs."

Then Jerod frowns for a moment, noting a discrepancy. "How did you come to hear of the Dragon?"

"Must be a different 'The Dragon'. Out this way, that's what they call the mythical progenitor of the Tritons. Supposedly they came through here on their way to Rebma."

It is likely that the number of times that Lamell has seen Jerod appear alarmed would be extremely few. So it probable that he remembers each time.

Including this one.

"What?" Jerod asks, his attention firmly focussed on Lamell. He thinks for a moment, trying to fit pieces together, then he grabs a chair and brings it over to plant it beside Lamell before sitting down.

"Lamell, I want to you to tell me everything you know about the Dragon and the Tritons. Every detail, no matter how small or trivial it may seem. As well as anyone in Rebma's history who's been involved with them. This is important. I need to know if this Dragon is the same as the one in Arcadia, because if it is then everything we hold dear could be in grave danger."

Lamell conjures a lit cigarette and blows a smoke ring. It floats through the water for a few seconds before popping into the current.

"Nobody knows anything about the Dragon, because it's a myth, a just-so story. Let's see. She was the queen of a lost forest beneath the waves and had many children and she fought a war with Rebma and lost her triton-children and cried so much that it turned the water salty. Oh, and her name was Dido."

He takes another drag of his cigarette. "I've no idea if this is the dragon you're looking for. Is the one you're thinking of nonexistent?" He sighs. "Look, even if myths have a kernel of truth to them, they have great roots and branches of untruths springing from it."

Jerod ponders the information that Lamell has given him, responding briefly. "Dido?" he says, partly to himself. "Queen of a lost forest. Just like Arden, and Arcadia. A queen who lost her children." and he shakes his head. "It sounds just like family."

Then he looks at Lamell. "The dragon of Arcadia exists. Corwin was the first Warden for Arden. He knows of it. I only wish I had asked him for more information the last time I spoke to him of it." He considers retrieving his trumps but holds off. There is time for that.

"And I understand the attributes that legends share with truth, though in this case there are enough points of similarity that I am concerned. Arden has its Dragon and is associated with Amber. I did not know anything of this lost forest but assuming it existed once, it would be associated with Rebma. Amber and Rebma are each the mirror of the other, points of great power, great reality. The Dragon stirs in Arden and has been able to strike at least once. Now there is unease and activity around Rebma. I mislike the interpretation.

"Have you ever heard of something called a Lord of Chaos?"

"No," he says. "Sounds nasty, like your uncles. Is it a poetical term for 'Prince of Amber'?"

"Not directly, though you could say it's related." Jerod says.

"The enemies that Amber fought, as well as the one's Rebma faced, came from a place beyond reckoning which we call Chaos. Those that live there are the Lords of that domain and they are incredibly powerful. From a simplistic perspective, they can literally control vast domains through sheer force of will. In many ways, they become the domain they control, literally. To them, everything in their realm is a resource, to be utilized, adjusted, developed, or in some cases consumed. There is no distinction to them between what we consider animals and sentient individuals. We're all the same to them.

"Amber, and Rebma, both have a particular quality about them that is antithetical to a Lord's existence. This goes back to Oberon and his beginnings and does not require discussion at this time. It is enough to say however that there are some in the Family who believe that the Dragon is just such a being. If as you say the Tritons are the children of the Dragon, then they could be an extension of her will. That the Tritons came to destroy Rebma would fit as well. And that the power of Moins, the queen of Rebma, secured the control of the Tritons also may fit."

"Who else would know about the Tritons, in detail?" Jerod asks. "And the ancient histories?"

"Old Uncles, telling tales to scare the children. Hedge wizards whose wisdom and secrets are hardly more numerous than their teeth. Losers marshalling pride in old grudges, long dead to the world. Cultists worshipping things they don't understand. Nobody worth listening to, generally. I haven't found anything out that makes what you say seem plausible.

"Not out of the question, just no reason to think it." He shrugs again. "Might as well head to Redcoral. You're more likely to find something there than here."

Jerod nods. "Provide Drusus with what he needs for his approach so we don't ruffle the local feathers. But the men are to remain alert regardless. I'll be along shortly."

Once Lamell has departed, Jerod pulls out his trump deck and sits down. Knowing Lamell, he is unlikely to return immediately. He is far more likely to arrange for a message to Jerod's mother, or another of suitable stature, to relay information that is deemed appropriate.

So Jerod finds himself with a trump of Corwin in his hand and begins to focus, reaching for the contact before introducing himself.

The contact forms, and Corwin is in his office. "Who is it?" he asks, rather perfunctorily, as if he's expecting a contact.

[assuming Jerod identifies himself]

"Ah, Jerod. Where are you?"

"In the Seaward on return to Rebma." Jerod replies. "I've been marching the Guard around looking for my missing sister without much success.

"That however is not the reason for my call. I have need of your knowledge of the Dragon from when you were Warden. I have heard a tale here that involves the Tritons and the Dragon and there are questions that beg answers. Would you have a few moments?"

"I have company, but a mutual exchange of knowledge will do us all good." Corwin reaches out and draws Brita and Ossian into the connection.


Ossian looks at Brita.

"So. Back to our original destination then. Do you need to make any preparations?"

"No Preparations," Brita responds, "Just Farewells."

"I'll start on the sketch." Ossian looks for a chair, and promptly sits down and starts sketching Meg.

[It takes a watch. What does Brita do while Ossian sketches?]

While Ossian sketches, Brita speaks with Ambrose and then her Mother. She offers wishes of health and peace for Teyanna to Ambrose.

Ambrose smiles briefly, then pauses. "Thank you, " he finally says. "When this war is over and my home is peaceful, I would show you the beautiful parts of Uxmal. If your duties allow it."

She asks her mother if there is anything she wishes relayed to Conner, assuming Brita will see him.

"Tell him that trial by combat is always the best choice in Rebma, and that I will stand second to him if it is required."

Ossian finishes the sketch. The sketch seemed odd--malleable under his brush as if his subject were not distinct.

Before attempting to use it Ossian looks around to see if he can find Brita, Marius, Brennan or Fiona (in that order).

"Do you Think that Means our Cousin is already Of Chaos?" Brita asks. "I had Difficulty Sketching those of Chaos Blood before."

"Well. Merlin did feel different from this" Ossian says "I think it works, but I'm very uncertain who will answer. If Dara have eaten Meg... I thought it best that someone else was present when I try it."

Brita nods and there is a subtle shift in her stance. She now appears prepared for battle.

"Whatever happens," Ossian says "Don't let them pull me through. Clonk me in the head if you need to."

Ossian takes a deep breath and concentrates on the Trump sketch.

The card is cold, but either the distance is too great, Meg is too inexperienced, or some other factor intervenes. The few images Ossian gets are indistinct and unfocused.

Ossian swears "It works, but I can't seem to get a contact. I will try harder." He concentrates harder, taking the risk of breaking the sketch (and possibly the person in the other end).

[Card draw: Nature reversed. Ouch.]

Ossian puts a great deal of himself into the contact, trying very hard to reach Meg. He suspects she's somehow shielded or her mind is otherwise occupied in a way that stops her from receiving the trump call. He tries to press through, but the connection severs violently, and when Ossian focuses on his surroundings again, the sketch has disintegrated in his hand. He feels very tired now.

Ossian sighs. "So. Off to Rebma then. Meg is at least alive in one way or the other."

Brita nods and says, "You Need Rest. We can Use Ship Skidbladnir Again or ask My Mother about more Direct Access to Mirror Rebma."

Ossian smiles weakly. "Either works for me. As long as involvement of your mother does not infuriate the Rebmans."

Brita nods again. "Mother?" she calls to Fiona. "Do you Have a Means for Cousin Ossian and I to Travel to Mirror Rebma that would be Faster //and Safer// than Ship Skidbladnir?

"A trump to Llewella, perhaps. Or a trump to Corwin in Paris and a trip down the stair from there. No way to Rebma is truly quick, or, in these days, safe." Fiona comes over and looks at both of them, making sure the room is clear before she continues, "There is a secret way out of Rebma that your brother found, but the description I received wasn't clear enough for me to find where he surfaced."

"It could be useful anyway if we need to escape quickly." Ossian says. "I've heard him talk about it too, but I didn't even understand where it started."

Brita notes, "Yes, a Way Out would be Good to Know. Please Describe what my Brother Found, Mother. I also Think the Indirect Way In would be Best - a Relay to Uncle Corwin and then Down the Stairs."

Fiona takes some time describing the exit from Rebma as Conner told it to her: a hidden location in the lower part of the city of Rebma, in an area frequented by Tritons. Both Ossian and Brita think that they might be able to find the place based on the description Fiona gives them, but it's by no means perfect, given that Conner came there under difficult circumstances and it's a second-hand account.

[If Brita is ready; otherwise Fiona will help with any necessary preparations]

Fiona draws out her trumps and shuffles out Corwin's card. After a moment, she makes contact. "Corwin, it is Fiona. Might I prevail on you to bring Brita and Ossian through to Paris? They are travelling and have come across family news that may interest you, about Rebma. And Deirdre."

After a moment, Fiona smiles and says, "Of course." She passes Brita and Ossian through, and they are in a study in the Louvre.

Brita bows formally to her Uncle, "Your Majesty," she says and waits for acknowledgement.

Corwin returns her bow gravely. "Brita," he says, "And Ossian. I'm pleased to welcome you to Paris, and to my home. Please, sit down." He gestures at two nearby chairs. While they make themselves comfortable, Corwin moves to the door and summons a servant. They can hear him make arrangements for a meal and rooms for them.

When he returns, he offers them each a drink, and pours one for himself before settling in his own seat. "My sister tells me you have news of Rebma. And about Deirdre." Corwin cannot entirely keep the eagerness from his tone when he says his dead sister's name.

Brita accepts only water. "It Began with Cousins Ossian and Ambrose and myself Aiding our New Cousin Meg in Routing Attackers on her Home Shadow Abford. Prince Merlin and Princess Celina were there when we Looked. The Attackers were Led by our Uncle Huon but they were Gone by the Time we Arrived in the Shadow. We Discovered that Uncle Huon was on his Way to Mirror Rebma. In our Attempt to Follow, Cousin Meg was Taken by cleph and Dara. We were Injured and went to my Mother. We were Joined by Cousins Brennan, Lilly, and Marius and a New Cousin, Daughter of Deirdre and Smith Weyland Signy."

She glances at Ossian with a 'I think that sums it up' look.

Ossian nods. "I stumbled upon Cousin Meg in the shadow where I grew up. Have you heard of Abford?"

Corwin shakes his head absently. "It doesn't ring any bells, no. Tell me more about Deirdre's daughter, please. Where is she? And where's Marius?"

"She was Slightly Less than Shoulder Height to me and had Dark, Medium-length hair and Dark Green eyes. She is Warrior and Sorcerer. She Arrived with a Lesser Kin - a Brother Tomat. She Joined Cousins Brennan and Marius in Returning to Former Reality Amber where they were to Test the Powders Used by Uncle Huon. They were, I believe, Also going to Take her to Meet King Random," Brita responds.

"We didn't have time for long introductions. Apparently all three, Brennan, Marius and Signy was somewhere in Shadow, together with cousin Lilly." Ossian adds.

Corwin is frowning. "Tell me about Tomat. And Weyland. What do you know about Weyland?"

Ossian shakes his head and looks at Brita.

"Kin Tomat was a Brother in an Order once and Now Serves Cousin Signy. He is Blond, of the Blood like my Father," She shrugs as if to say that there is not much else she knows. "I Know Little about Smith Weyland."

"I can't believe Deirdre would--" Corwin cuts himself off and returns to the business at hand. "Wait. Tomat was in an Order. And he's gone to Amber, you say?" He didn't wait for a confirmation before rising and moving toward his secretary. "Excuse me for a moment. I have a call I need to make."

Brita's eyebrow raises slightly at the deference to a Younger, but nods slightly and bides with her hands clasped in her lap, her eyes averted from Corwin.

Corwin gets his deck of trumps from the secretary and shuffles one out. After a moment, he says, "Corwin. I have a piece of news that may interest you. Have Brennan and Marius arrived in Amber yet?"

There's a pause.

"There's a girl with them. Signy. She's Deirdre's daughter, by Weyland Smith."

Another pause, then Corwin laughs.

"I thought that would get your attention, brother. And with them is her man. Tomat. Formerly Brother Tomat. He is, I have it on good authority, a member of the Family."

Another pause.

"Yes, I see you comprehend the problem. I assume you'll know what to do."

Yet another pause.

"Please do. Let me know. And let Random know too."

This time the pause is very brief.

"You too. Farewell." Corwin closes the connection and puts his trumps away.

He comes back to Ossian and Brita. "I'm sorry, I needed to take care of that. No telling what this Brother Tomat might try if someone's not keeping a very close eye on him."

Brita's nod is one of agreement although she adds, "I am Not Sure that Kin Tomat Recognizes the Connection, But I Believe Cousin Signy does Not." She cocks her head to one side slightly and asks, "Have they Arrived in Former-Reality Amber, Uncle-King?"

Corwin nods. "They're there, but they haven't been up to see Caine yet. He's in charge, on Random's say-so. He'll handle this Tomat. If he's just a by-blow who fell in with Signy by chance, he should be fine. If he's--troublesome--the way some of the religious were in the old days, and has attached himself to Signy to make trouble, he'll deal with Caine. Or, rather, Caine will deal with him."

Ossian nods, and tries not to wince at the mention of Caine "dealing" with someone. "Good. We seemed to get more problems than we solved when we Trumped Brennan back there."

"Do you anything about Huon? Is it likely that he has allied with Dara?"

"I don't think he could have allied with Dara. It doesn't seem likely to me that either of them knows how to contact the other. But I wouldn't count it entirely out, either."

Corwin takes a long drink from his glass before he answers the rest of the question.

"Huon was one of Dad's by-blows. If he'd played his cards right, Dad might have legitimized him the way he did Llewella, but Huon was too much of a troublemaker for that. Ultimately he convinced his brother--on his mother's side, not one of us--to try his luck on the Pattern, with predictable results. After that, he was exiled. Bleys enforced it. A lot of us assumed he was dead. But they assumed I was dead, too."

Brita's eyes were distant through this recitation; she heard but appeared focused on something else. "Uncle," she says finally, almost drawing the word out, "Dara Will Surely Know of Uncle Huon Now that she has our Cousin Meg. What would she Do with that Knowledge? Is Uncle Huon a Power that would Tempt her?"

"She could know of Huon even before that. Remember that Brand had a Trump of him." Ossian adds. "And Bleys thought that I or Abford could be a trap set up for him. Which would suggest a connection between Brand and Huon."

Corwin scowls. "I think Dara's more likely to be a temptation for Huon than the other way around if he's the man I remember him being. But who knows what he's learned in his long exile in Shadow?" He turns his attention fully to Ossian. "Tell me what you know about this trump of Huon Brand had."

"It is clearly made by Brand. But it is definitely the oldest of his hand I have seen." Ossian muses "Before he went impressionist. Strangely he had written Huon's name at the bottom. Very unlike the Brand I knew?"

"Are you Certain that the Name is in Brand's Hand? Could not Another have Written it?" Brita asks.

Corwin was about to say something, but instead waits for Ossian's answer to Brita's question.

"Handwriting is not my expertise, and I am certain Brand worked on his between that Trump and now. It could have been his. I'm not sure." he bows his head toward Corwin "You must have known him when he was younger. Would he write a name on a Trump back then?"

Corwin shrugs. "We didn't know he could make Trumps until recently. The first one of his I saw didn't have a name on it. But it was newer, because it was made after Huon disappeared."

Brita is waiting for further response from Ossian or Corwin.

"Hm." says Ossian "I was not really referring to Trumps specifically, but rather to his general taste and style in art. I mean, he would certainly frown upon writing names on Trumps later in life. I am surprised he even kept it."

"Trumps are a bit different, Ossian." Corwin takes a long drink from his crystal tumbler. "If you're asking whether I think Dara might try with Huon what Brand tried, Huon's a bit warier than Martin was, if possibly less versed in the family gifts. And unless Huon's learned a lot of magic in his years abroad, he's not a match for her in magic. He may not even be a match for her with a blade--but he's got years of experience. Even if it's just against shadow folk, experience tells."

Then Corwin gets a distant look that Brita and Ossian both recognize as the beginnings of a Trump contact. He holds up a hand to them. "Who is it?" he asks, rather perfunctorily, as if he's expecting it..

There's a pause and he says, "Ah, Jerod. Where are you?"

Brita gets up and moves to the floor next to Corwin, sitting down cross-legged next to his chair. She'll place a hand on the arm of the chair, asking silently to be joined in at the King's preference.

Ossian raises an eyebrow when he realises who is at the other end. With a sly smiles he too moves closer to Corwin.

There's a long pause, presumably while Jerod says something to Corwin. "I have company, but a mutual exchange of knowledge will do us all good." Corwin reaches out and draws Brita and Ossian into the connection.


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Last modified: 16 September 2007