Calling All Tritons

Garrett's arrival in Rebma is a busy one. He spends much time with Llewella asking lots of questions about proper conduct for a male in the realm, what (and how) to eat, what to wear, and where to sleep. Of primary importance, though, is making provisions for Lark's care and safety. Having trusted these details to his aunt as Martin recommended, Garrett rests and prepares to attend court.

Celina arrives in the main throne room gliding to the Sapphire Throne. She nods once at those who stand near enough to pause and bow head in her direction. Celina expects and keeps the attention while Silhouette takes opportunity to watch and blend.

Once at the throne, she calls for accounting of news and messages that may have arrived from the Hierophant. If there is no news, she sends for Atrios.

Silhouette takes her place amongst the courtiers and nobles, blending into them like a cuttlefish disappearing into the sand.

A page has returned from the Heirophant. He explains that the Hierophant was busy conducting a ritual ceremony in preparation for next week's end-of-year vigil, and as soon as he was no longer performing his priestly duties, his assistants would inform him of the Queen's message. The page says she saw him, and he was in fact delivering some sort of speech to a temple-ful of Tritons.

Atrios arrives promptly and looks attentively at the Queen. Following him in to the throne room is Llewella, who casually takes her place at her niece's right hand, nodding.

"Atrios, someone may seek to disrupt the end of year vigil. I feel a disturbance of the Seas. Long sleeping currents may stir. Please guide a force of men to check the watches at the Bionin and the Kelp Beds and report back to us." Celina looks about the Court carefully to gage the interest her command generates.

From the corner, Silhouette watches the court for reactions as well.

Atrios makes a bow and goes over towards one of the military men in the room. Before he gets there, an officer speaks up. "Majesty, I would be pleased to have the Triton guide my Coral Watch to do your bidding." Atrios stops, waiting to see if he is assigned to the Colonel.

The Colonel is young, and in all likelihood got his commission by being connected. On the other hand, no one else has volunteered.

The court seems to be surprised by his forwardness, but not unhappy.

Celina shifts her attention to the Colonel as if carefully realigning a harpoon catapult. "The Triton has a name. If you understand that he is senior to you and you will be senior to another Watch that Atrios selects, then I judge you worthy to the mission. Let the ocean whisper its secrets in your ear. Bring me news soon." And she nods to Atrios.

Another young officer steps forward and bows. .My Queen, the Neeptide Guard volunteers their headquarters company to accompany the Coral Watch and the Lord Atrios on this task. I will personally lead my troops and assure that you receive news as soon as we have it.. He is smoother than the first Colonel. While Celina has been introduced to the Colonel of the Coral Watch before, this young officer must be new to court.

The Neeptide Guard is an old regiment, but her honors are old as well. Perhaps the new man is hoping to revitalize the unit.

Celina gives a simple nod. She isn't changing her orders until she sees if Atrios accepts this additional volunteer unit. She will ask about this new face after court.

Celina makes the obvious direct loom to Atrios waiting his denial or acceptance.

Atrios isn't going to turn down anyone the Queen doesn't turn down. He also isn't going to speak, as Tritons seldom do. He bows towards the Queen and awaits her orders. He does not look displeased with his charges or with Celina's clarification.

"Majesty," says Llewella. "I thought you would have responded to the message I sent via page. Did she not arrive? Prince Martin has sent his brother and child here for safekeeping during the current events above the waves."

"And while we speak of missing men, where are your archivists?"

Celina almost responds, but....

A door opens quietly at the back of the throne room and in walks a lean, wiry young man who is doing his best to look comfortable in Rebman court attire. He is holding the hand of a wide-eyed, dark-haired little girl who looks about 5 years old and is also dressed for court. The pair are accompanied by a senior staff member of the Xanadavian Embassy, who also appears to be acting as a guide. The newcomers are obviously dry-landers, but the man is known to Celina and Silhouette. It is Prince Garrett.

Celina pauses in surprise.

Silhouette notices the pair and steps forward enough to be seen. She waggles her long fingers at Lark, offering a gentle smile of welcome. She then nods to Garrett, the smile lingering.

Celina uses the lead that Llewella has given her, "The Archivists are returning by sea guarded by Prince Huon. The page probably went to my quarters and missed me as I was coming here."

Celina signals the senior staff in attendance, court is now closed. A long tone sounds from a heavy metal disc hanging on the shadowed wall as it is struck. Celina points to Prince Garrett. "I wish the news of the surface festival. Please attend me, Prince Garrett. Silhouette, you took notes for me while we were there, stay please and record. My Aunt, you will want to hear if there is word from Family."

Silhouette bows here, "Of course, your Majesty." She speaks briefly with a page to fetch her wax tablets and etching tools.

Celina looks at Atrios, "Bide, faithful Atrios. There may be news which aids your mission. I accept the voluntary forces offered here today. Everyone else please leave. The Neeptide and Coral commanders shall wait outside the closed Court." Celina will send a smile direct to the senior staffer of the Xandavian Embassy to soften any sting of being dismissed nearly as soon as arrived.

Celina pretends to eye Lark as if this is a mystery that Prince Garrett should explain, but gives no signal he should begin to do so.

Once Court clears, she relaxes. "Welcome, Garrett. It's wonderful to see you. Hullo again, Lark. What news, cousins?"

Lark chirps up. "I saw the Unicorn! Mommy's chasing after her now. If we're swimming, why are we wearing clothes?"

Atrios seems transfixed by Lark.

"Because you're not allowed to be naked in court," Garrett replies, looking down at Lark, as if the question were as normal as "What's for breakfast?"

Garrett turns back to Celina and smiles. "It's good to see you too, your Majesty. And Silhouette," he says with a slight bow of his head to each woman in turn. "The lass is correct, though. We did see the Unicorn, just before we came to Rebma. That's the end of a long story, though, that began at Edan's festival in Xanadu. Were either of you present for that?"

Celina nods, "We were. Please let us know what happened after everyone found more important things to do. We had to leave."

Silhouette kneels down and smiles at Lark, "Although we're swimming, we must still maintain a sense of propriety, Little Bird. Although, some Rebmans are more liberated than others, as you shall soon see."

Regardless of the value of Silhouette's advice, Lark has stopped paying attention and is looking at Atrios. He swims slightly closer and she flaps up to about eye level with him. They don't seem to see anyone else.

Llewella looks over and seems surprised and vexed by his interest.

Celina keeps a wary eye on Atrios. This could be seriously awkward. There is no good of a wrestling match with a Triton. "Lark, would you like to touch the throne? It is sapphire."

Garrett reaches up and puts his hands firmly on either side of Lark's waist, using his experience with horses to measure his movements and hopefully avoid spooking the triton. He doesn't pull the child away. Yet. But he's ready to if need be. All the while, he watches the triton closely for signs of aggression.

Lark has a five-year-old's ability to ignore questions she doesn't care to hear at the moment.

Atrios makes a gesture, not unlike sign-language. It's unclear to any what it means.

Lark makes a different gesture back and swims a bit forward, as far as Garrett lets her.

Llewella turns to Celina and says "I think Atrios needs to be sent on his mission, Your Highness. Immediately."

Celina swallows hard. And if there is anything more nerve-wracking than wondering what a Triton will do to a child, even by accident, it would be her Aunt Llewella sounding...afraid. Concerned? This could be so important! Shall we always dodge mysteries?

And yet Llewella is her court advisor and does not rile easily.

Tritons are almost never still. It's not easy on their frames and most of the time it's just a factor of being around them. If they are resting, it's on a frame, which helps them support themselves.

Atrios isn't moving except deliberately. It's not something any of them have seen.

Celina digs down and finds the Moins tone of sapphire surety, "Atrios. Get the troops moving now. I need information. We shall have time for mystery later."

Atrios looks to Lark, who nods. He bows, turns around, and swims out the door.

Garrett's hands tighten on Lark and he begins to slowly pull her away. "Come on down, honey," he says gently. "He has to go to work now."

"I know. I told him he could go. Lemme go, Unca Garrett, I wanna go see the throne."

Llewella looks at the other adults. "Do any of you have any idea what the hell got into him? That was a TaKhi form he took, but ancient. I don't recall Tritons ever practicing the art."

Silhouette idly watches Lark go about her explorations, "I cannot speak to the Tritons' overall anthropology, but perhaps it responded to the girl's ancestry? If the Tritons were once bound to the Rebman bloodline, there may be something dormant within her it sensed instinctively?"

Garrett releases Lark to go play, eyeing her warily as she trots off. He glances up, stone-faced, at his aunt as Silhouette offers her theory.

Llewella looks as if she is about to reply, but holds when the queen speaks.

Celina considers more sinister answers to Llewella's obvious fishing, but answers, "I think Atrios was as surprised as you, Aunt Llewella. We can assume that there are TaKhi masters we have not studied with in many centuries. Perhaps a survey of near shadows of the Sapphire Throne will throw us some clues, after the current crisis has passed." Celina watches Lark marvel over the throne. Celina particularly pays attention if Lark's fingers seem to linger over any of the motifs and elaborations worked into the beautiful art there.

Llewella doesn't look convinced, but turns to watch Lark as well. The girl sits on the throne and dangles her legs, kicking idly. "This needs a cushion for my butt," she says.

Celina adds, offhand this time, "So Garrett, is there news?"

"Yes," Garrett says, called back to attention. "I'll get to the meat of it. The King has been ensorceled, presumably by the Queen of Air and Darkness. She has somehow managed to work through Vialle. The result is that he cares about nothing but Vialle and the unborn child, and is nearly helpless when apart from her. Fiona is trying to untangle the spell, but hasn't had any luck, last I heard." Garrett glances at Llewella as he speaks of her siblings, then turns back to Celina.

"Martin took charge of things in Xanadu and called a meeting at the Grove of the Unicorn to discuss our options. In the meantime though, we got word of an attack on some Rangers near the stairs to Tir. Based on the time-shifting nature of the attack, it's believed to be Moonriders. Most of our warrior cousins trumped up there to defend, while Hannah and others stayed at the Grove to handle any wounded. Martin determined that two princes in one place was a bad idea and sent me here with Lark. I haven't heard anything more since we got here."

"Merde," says Llewella. "Isn't that just like him?" She turns to Celina. "I'm afraid that sounds bad for Vialle, who is technically under your protection."

And Celina asks, "What sort of time shifting? Do you have any specifics?"

Silhouette resumes her silent vigil, etching the discussion onto her wax tablet.

"A ranger found his own dead body up near the Stairs. It was deemed to be 'time magic' by people who know more about that than me," Garrett explains to Celina.

He turns to Llewella. "Martin's main concerns seemed to be keeping Lark safe and not having two princes in the same location. He said to trust the two of you, but be wary of anyone else," he says.

"He meant for Folly to come too," he continues, "but she got distracted by...oh yeah! The unicorn! The Unicorn arrived in the Grove while we were there!"

Celina barely avoids gasping. It is so impolite underwater.

Llewella nods. "That is oddly not the most surprising thing I have heard tonight. Normally the best way to keep someone safe is to assign a Triton to them.

"Tonight, I'm not so sure that's a good idea."

From behind the throne, Lark says "Are there unicorns underwater?"

Celina turns and regards exactly where Lark is fussing with the throne. She doesn't head over there, yet.

Llewella says, "Yes," before realizing that maybe she didn't want to say that. She lets the moment linger to see if anyone wants to question her. "I've seen her. It's rare."

Silhouette bites her tongue, reserving her comments on the One-Horned Mule for herself and herself alone.

Instead, she simply jots this down. "Is this an ill omen or a positive one?"

Celina waits on the answer, but drifts a bit to get a better look at Lark.

Lark's legs are sticking out behind the throne. Her head and arms are underneath the seat.

Llewella turns and looks at Silhouette. "The unicorn is the symbol of the family and if she shows up, there is some sort of family matter at hand. The last time I saw her, she gave the Great Jewel of Judgement to Random, signifying that he was to be our King.

"I suppose the nature of the omen depends on your feeling about family."

Celina walks to Lark and gets down on the floor behind her. "Uncle Random seems to be canny and serious about his throne. Moreover he's an innovator, unlike my father. Therefore I'm quite concerned that the Lady of Air and Darkness imposes her will and followers on Xanadu. We shall have a strike force ready to move in support.

"What have you found, Lark?" asks Celina.

"We were a bit removed from whatever was happening at the stairs," Garrett explains as he watches Lark and Celina. "The unicorn's presence didn't seem to be a bad thing. Quite the opposite. She sort of looked us over and continued on toward the stairs. Folly went after her, and Martin followed Folly. That was when I trumped here."

Lark scoots over, making room for Celina. "Where everyone carves their initials." She points to the bottom of the throne. There are scratches that may or may not be exactly what she's said. "Can I have a really sharp knife?"

Silhouette glances at the Queen for confirmation and then carefully draws out her hair pin - releasing the voluminous locks to spread out like sea fronds. She offers the stiletto to Celina, "This should do. The blade is sharp and lacks poison, in case of an accident."

She moves closer, inspecting the construction of the throne. "A secret bottom?" she asks of the child.

Lark giggles. "You said 'bottom'," she observes.

Celina takes the stiletto and lets Lark see that it may be shared for her use but there are questions, "Perhaps we should record the marks before we add any message of our own, Lark. There may be a warning or a secret friendship to discover."

"Okay," says Lark, reaching for the stiletto.

Llewella looks at the throne as well. She speaks softly. "Does the child know anything about Tritons?"

Celina adds, "Lark, do you have an answer for your Aunt? What do you know about Tritons and their dances?"

Garrett moves over to the throne and squats down to get a better look at what Celina and Lark are doing. He glances at Lark, waiting for her answer.

There's not really room for even 1 adult down on the floor with Lark, so it's not easy to get the vantage she has, but those who can see definitely see scratches in the large emerald.

"Daddy told me about them. They're big! Ateyos is our friend."

Llewella looks impatient with the kinds of answers five-year-olds give.

"Lark, can you tell me what your daddy said about them?" Garrett asks patiently, his head cocked in curiosity. "I've never been to Rebma, so you know more than me about tritons."

Celina shifts focus to Garrett with a silent thank-you. She moves the utility blade out of Lark's reach. And simply adds, "Yes."

"Daddy said I could trust Ateyos, but to ask him about others. He told me to go to him for help if I was in danger or anything."

"A Treeee Os. Like a Tree," says Llewella.

"A Tree oh," repeats Lark, more or less exactly like her Great-Aunt said it.

Llewella looks over at Celina and shakes her head. "Atrios was his. And before that his mother's."

"And did you just ask about others, Lark? And what did he say?" Celina asks in a very everyday young voice.

Silhouette steps back, letting the ladies draw out the information from the young girl - an utter mystery to her.

Garrett glances up at Llewella, taking in the connections she mentioned, and turns back to Lark to hear her answer.

The girl looks at Celina like she's asked if water is wet. "I haven't met any others to ask him about yet, Aunt 'Lina!" She reaches for the knife, possibly thinking the questioning is over.

Celina nods once. "Well, here we go." She uses Lark's reach and angle to take hold and torso shift the small girl to Garrett's arms. "I'll just check for traps." And so saying Celina slips to the floor, on her back, and investigates the marks under the throne.

Garrett scoops up the child in one fluid motion and positions her on his hip. He watches Celina closely and after a moment asks, "See anything?"

Very small people have apparently been carving their initials or symbols here for years. Celina can't quite get her hands back to it, because she's big, but she can see several 'L's, and 'M's and one that's either a thorn (þ) or a stylized trident.

Lark bends backwards away from Garrett, letting her head hang upside down to see if she can see what Celina is doing. She starts singing quietly. It's hard to make out the words.

"Mine is the double 'L'," says Llewella.

Celina wiggles her head sideways to get better light. Finally a single hand moves in and traces the lines with a fingertip. "Everything about the throne is a joy and puzzle. Why should this be different? But perhaps we are distracting from more serious matters." Celina also presses here and there in the slender space, looking for any part that moves or depresses.

If Llewella explored this all as a child, then there probably isn't anything new to find. Lark may be the missing part of a puzzle, but not this puzzle.

Silhouette smiles faintly, "Indeed, milady. You will have time to experiment later. There are more pressing issues at the moment."

"So Garrett, other than keep our readiness and provide a safe haven, do you have an opinion on what you'd tackle next?" Celina sounds as if she'd welcome a more active response to the danger in Xanadu.

Lark sings another verse of her song. "Aunt Llewella, gentile Aunt Llewella. Aunt Llewella je te plumerei..." She almost gets through the song before she starts to laugh at her own joke.

Making sure that the knife is out of sight, Garrett lets Lark roll out of his grasp and onto the floor on her next big squirm.

Lark tumbles to the floor and bounces up, swimming strongly for the ceiling.

To the adults, he answers, "Regarding the battle, no, I don't know where to go with that until we hear more from above. I did wonder though..." He pauses, apparently trying to word things delicately, "What you all might know about Vialle? I heard that she was discovered walking the pattern in Tir, back when Cambina fell, and I didn't think that was possible for one who isn't of the blood."

Celina gives Aunt Llew a direct look, 'yours to comment first and children are present' as she sits up.

Aunt Llew doesn't care what children hear. "She's a relative. Distant, I thought. Her mother was close to Moire. Who knows, maybe Eric had more than one water baby. He always did like other people's wives best."

"So many princes are friendly to a fault," Celina sighs. "Still that explanation doesn't sit very well. She'd be distant enough to be damaged." Celina shakes off the deathly flashback of a hand reaching for her. "Though I suppose that the rules will bend for the owner of a Pattern."

Silhouette cradles her wax tablet, her face hardening as the trio speak of Vialle. Of the three, Celina might notice the subtle hint of emotion.

"The Queen's connection to Tir-Na N'ogth is deeper than she lets on," she says. "But I do not see it as a threat, if that is what you are proposing."

Celina looks... concerned.

"I'm not proposing anything, really," Garrett explains as he rises to his feet. "I'm just making connections. And that connection is one I hadn't known previously." He turns to Llewella. "Do you know if Random knew she was related when they were wed?"

Celina looks at Lark above them. She waits on Llewella's answer.

Llewella looks at the child swimming near the ceiling.

"You're all too young to realize, so I have to tell you. She's so close, it's uncanny, and I didn't even see it until she was down here.

"That's... bad. In ways I only partially understand but have to do with how the Tritons were bound and how they perceive time. And also how the old families think."

She pauses, squinting at the clothes the child has let loose to drift down to the throne.

"Random... was persona non grata here for centuries because he unravelled a lot of promises. But things changed to accommodate the new reality. She undoes that balance. And if you're wondering, word got out when we let the court go. This is what the great shells are whispering about tonight, trying to find where their advantage lies if Morganthe has returned."

Celina motions to the steps. "This sounds like a good story coming. Why would the Tritons think Morganthe would return after death? Or is there an older tale to tell first?" Celina appears ready to listen.

Garrett is listening too, while he stares up as Lark uneasily.

Silhouette nods, urging her aunt to expound up her statement.

Llewella snorts. "It's not as good a story as you think. Or at least your mother would tell it better than I can," she says to Celina. "Triton religion holds that death is a temporary unbinding of a person, and their energy can be stored, absorbed by other beings, or even split into other beings -- that's how they think of children, by the way. But a logical-to-them consequence is that it can recombine in a new body that is effectively the same being."

"And that is not at all what I'm talking about with the Great Shells. Those noble houses only see Lark as figuratively Morganthe, and an opportunity or a risk to their status."

She walks back to the semi-private area behind and to the right of the throne, and pours herself a drink. "The only good thing is that they're likely to be conservative and not want to act first. 'The second lobster gets the bait', as the saying goes."

"So should we not be here? Should I take her back to the surface?" Garrett asks, pulling his gaze away from Lark to address his aunt. "Or is the damage already done?"

Llewella nods at the last. "They'd all just assume one of the other factions grabbed her and try to find out who." She sighs. "In a perfect world, we'd've prepared, at least a bit." She look up at the child, giggling and swimming near the ceiling. "It's up to you and to her, really. If you're up to it, show that she's here, make it clear she's not anyone's to manipulate, and that she may come and go as she pleases. It's funny, really. If you'd arrived without her, you'd've been the one that people were scheming over."

Celina frowns, "So while I know just how harshly Martin would want to say something that would put all these Families on their asses, who's to say we couldn't schedule a ceremony for the Queen naming her Heir.... pending a child of her own? That would keep them focused and long-sighted for a week or two."

Silhouette nods lightly, "At the very least it shall provide the noblewomen plenty to speak of during their next forum at the salon. They've been growing complacent in their grumblings. A strong current could stir the silt, thus exposing dangers beneath the surface."

Llewella looks into the middle distance. "It might solve our most immediate problems. We would want to consider if they are worth creating longer term problems in order to solve."

Silhouette casts a smile at Garrett, "You shall still be schemed over, of course. You'll attract schools of clown fish casting their daughters at you, no doubt. I hope you're ready for the attention."

Celina's current expression is midway between resigned and irritated, probably at the Families and how 'helpful' they are.

Garrett blows out a breath and rakes a hand slowly through his hair as he gazes up in thought at Lark. "Martin warned me about the scheming," he sighs, frowning, "but if he knew about this whole 'triton reincarnation attachment' thing, he never mentioned it."

His focus returns to Celina and his aunt. "What he did say though, was that I should trust the two of you. And Martin doesn't take trust lightly. I'm a fish out of water here, pun intended, so if you two think a ceremony will solve the short-term issues, I'll follow your lead. The longer term issues may be moot if we get called back to Xanadu."

"Nice word, 'moot'," offers Celina and smiles just a hair. "I am intrigued to get to the long-term issues. We need peace and prosperity more than ego around here." Celina moves closer to Llewella and follows Garrett's gaze to Lark. She whispers, "Are you prepared to be loyal to an heir not of my direct descent, my wise aunt?"

Llewella shakes her head, and her hair wraps around behind her as she does. "I'm not prepared to be loyal to anyone. You have my support, which is different and, from a family member, altogether more valuable. If she became Queen anytime in the next twenty years, the throne would either be Martin's or Mine, in all practical ways. Likely depending on which of us could abandon it first."

While they speak, Silhouette keeps an eye on the child, lest she hurt herself or unleash some aquatic horror from the throne.

Celina stands up straighter, "Well, I believe we will absolutely overcome long-term challenges. And as the deceased queen, I have no specific wishes on which of you abandon my throne first." Celina gives a lopsided grin that doesn't reach her eyes.

"Now we ask for volunteers," Celina calls Lark loudly, "sweet Lark, if I have to go away, are you willing to guard the throne in my absence?"

Garrett looks up with a pained expression. It's not clear whether the grimace arises from the concept of a 5-year-old being asked to guard the pretty throne, or the thought that Martin will likely kill him the next time he sees him.

Lark swims down a few feet from the ceiling. "Can I have a knife?"

"Only if your father has taught you how to use one," Garrett answers. "And you'll have to follow the Queen's rules or she'll take it away."

Celina smiles at Lark in a way that says Garrett is quite right.

Lark swims downward, her short hair no impediment and her clothes long discarded. "He did. What are the rules?"

"Of course he did," mutters Llewella.

Silhouette purses her lips, stifling back a smirk.

Celina motions to Lark to come and sit on her lap. As the child settles (or roll back if she won't) Celina looks at Garrett. "Prince Garrett says you are old enough to know rules and he's looking out for you on your parents instructions. So I shall trust you to follow my rules while you are within the seas. You've heard I make the rules. So listen carefully."

Celina smiles at Silhouette's smirk. It's a smile that says you will have a turn some day.

Celina recites for Lark with formal cadence:

"You guard the throne as long as you uphold the Queen's honor and cherish the City's People.
You guard by being you and not by having a special blade. That's important. You get to select your own blade from the Queen's Armoury.
Prince Garrett shall hold your blade ready for when you need it. Your parents have chosen him.
You shall give the blade back to Prince Garrett when you are done using it. If he isn't present, you give it to a Triton or me to take to Prince Garrett.
It's important that people trust you when they realize what an important task you have. So you don't carry the blade in hand. You are not a soldier. Trust is earned by protecting those who need it and not making advantage of someone's troubles or showing off how favored your are by the Queen. Trust is also earned by not using the blade unless there is serious threat to the throne."

Celina pauses, "I can trust you Lark. Are the rules too complicated? Do I need to say them again? I give very few people a blade of their own. If this is too hard, please say so. We'll talk about it again when your parents arrive instead."

As the Queen speaks, Garrett adjusts his posture to look as straight, formal, and serious as her words demand. He waits for Lark's answer to the final question.

Lark settles in the Queen's lap, looking at Silhouette closely while Celina smiles at her. "I can do that. Daddy says don't show your cards or your knife too soon."

She looks at Garrett. "Can we go to the arm-ree now?"

Silhouette nods seriously, "Your father's words do have some wisdom. When time allows, I shall provide you with a sheath to hide your blade properly."

She glances at the other, "And reduce the chance of her stabbing someone, of course."

"One does not depart from the Queen's presence until she has given her leave," Garrett says formally, though with a twinkle and a smirk toward Celina.

Celina doesn't quite wink back at Garrett. But there is a shadow of a wink in her eyes.

"What if you have to go pee?" asks Lark.

"You hold it," Garrett shoots back.

He turns to Llewella. "Aunt, I would welcome your advice, if you have any, on Rebman protocol for me as guardian of the...er, Guardian of the Throne. I'm sure there must be more to it than standing by, scowling, and making sure she stays out of trouble."

Llewella smiles blandly. It's still radiant. "Rebman protocol is that you are a mere man and thus may have certain talents generally associated with warfare, but are not up to more strategic thinking or political intrigue and that you are at your best at a parade. You are supposed to defer to her female relatives. Your best bet is to tell them her great-aunt would disapprove and they'll stop trying to talk to you and try to talk to me."

Garrett responds with a single nod. "Stand up straight, wear weapons, and don't talk too much. Keep my strategic thinking to myself. Got it," he says, settling these instructions in his head. "I think I'm beginning to understand Martin a little better," he adds with a wry smile.

Silhouette smiles gently, "If you require a chaperone, I'm sure the Queen will allow me to watch over you. At the very least, I can make certain you do not find yourself in... a compromising position. Our male family members have somewhat of a checkered reputation for leaving their mark on Rebma, as it were."

Celina sighs at the necessity of having this conversation, "I think you teaming with Garrett will more compromise your own standing, Silhouette, however... if you want to role play and offer some guidance, you have my permission to be a bit intrigued with the foreign prince. Just no public makeout sessions. It's almost expected from Random's line and will offer a nice shield for Garrett."

Silhouette wrinkles her nose, "I was thinking of something more stern and disapproving than familiar, my Queen. I do have a reputation to maintain." She glances at Garret, "No offense, cousin."

"None taken," Garrett replies with a wry smile. He turns to Celina. "Majesty, with your leave, I will take the Young One to the armory to find something suitable. I'd be happy to have your company, Silhouette, whether as a chaperone, a guide, or simply kin. Whatever works best for the gossiping courtiers," he grins.

Silhouette dips her head, "Of course. Let us find the little one a proper blade, yes? And then you some proper garb for Rebman society."

Lark seems a bit wary of the latter suggestion. "I was here for court. Rebmans don't wear clothes."

"We do, Songbird. Just very little," Silhouette replies. She sweeps her hand through her diaphanous dress, making it drift in the water like seaweed. "And, as the Queen's assistant, I must protect her wards. It may not appear so, but this dress can turn most weapons."

Celina nods, "Go with my blessing. Lark, choose a blade that can be your friend."

Celina nods at Dolphin with unspoken permission to leave also.

She waits to speak with Llewella.

Dismissed, Silhouette leads Garret and Lark from the chambers and toward the armory.

Lark swims beside Garrett and Silhouette. It takes her more effort than walking, but she's clearly enjoying herself.

Silhouette remains terrestrially bound in her stride. "The Prince must trust you explicitly, cousin. To place such a task upon you."

"He trusts my intentions, at least," Garrett observes. "As to my abilities, it's hard to say. With a choice between Rebmans and Moonriders, I reckon he's choosing the devil he knows by sending her here."

They descend a vaulted stairwell, walking upon smoothed basalt. A school of silvery fish rise to meet them, ducking and weaving around Silhouette's ankles as if in greeting.

"True enough," she says, nodding. "I say this in no disparaging way, but trust or no, you must be resolute in your duty. My Queen's reign has only just begun to form and many would shake its foundations. In the eyes of some, this child would be the perfect tool for that task."

"And Martin would know that," Garrett agrees grimly. "Which indicates the gravity of the situation above. He wouldn't have sent her here if he had a choice."

He walks silently for a moment, frowning, then asks, "So how did you come to be in the Rebman court, Silhouette? I've been away for a while and haven't caught up on family doings."

Silhouette smiles faintly, "Penance? My weapons nearly destroyed this realm, so our elders thought it wise that I should come here to make amends. I agreed and have served the Queen since that time."

She pauses briefly, "The results have been amiable. The Grand Design progresses here. And the Queen is most accommodating. She has my loyalties, which is more than I can say for others.

"If you possess resolve, you'll find opportunities for advancement here, Garrett. More than being a babysitter, anyway."

Garrett shoots her a skeptical look. "I thought advancement for men wasn't something that was done here," he says.

"They advance and prosper in their own way," Silhouette says. "The true power lies behind those who stand in the forefront. Loyalty is a rare currency, here. But one that is rewarded well."

She skips the next stair, floating delicately down. "I suppose the question is, whom do you wish to serve once this storm passes above."

Lark swims between them. The armory door is thick, and there are two guards in front of it, both Rebman human males. They come to attention as they see the three people approaching from the direction of the throne room.

Garrett draws up to formal posture and steps behind Lark, placing his hands on her shoulders. "The Queen has ordered that Princess Lorelei be permitted to select a weapon from the armory," he states. He waits, assuming that the guards will also need Silhouette's approval for them to enter.

Silhouette steps forward, "The Queen's guests require armaments. I'll oversee their selections." She dips her head to each one respectfully - she knows their faces, but not their names.

The guards bow and stand aside. Lark says "Thank you," and pulls open the large and heavy door. It is a reminder that even Amber's children are remarkable. Lark swims ahead, looking over the racked equipment.

The weapons that are nearest the door are the common weapons of the Rebman soldiers, tridents, spears, and other stabbing weapons that work well under water. The armor matches that seen on Rebman soldiers, including the pair outside the door.

There are some exotic weapons and even surface weapons, including a spring-powered speargun and a pistol. The pistol is marked with a card that says "DANGER! UNSTABLE..."

Lark goes to a rack in the back that contains short stabbing or punching knives and looks over the contents.

Silhouette drifts behind her, "The key to finding your proper blade is weight and balance. Remember to check each weapon. Listen to its song. Feel its soul within your fingers. Only one will call to you and you alone."

"Very poetic," Garrett grins at Silhouette appreciatively. "I was going to tell her something like that, but yours was much better."

Garrett kneels behind Lark and reviews the rack with her. "Silhouette is right, Lark, as I'm sure your father told you. The blade has to feel 'right' in your hand. Try them out and choose carefully. 'Listen to its song' as she said."

Lark stands with her hands on her hips, looking like a half-sized Folly. "I'm looking for something short and stabby. Because I'm small, I need something to help me get away."

For most people, these would be hold-out weapons, but they seem longer in Lark's hands. "That one is too long and the one next to it, the handle is too fat. The jeweled one would just give me away in the dark."

"What do you think is a good one?" she says to her uncle and cousin.

"If we were above the waves, I'd recommend a leather grip, but that would get slippery here, I reckon," Garrett muses while perusing the rack. He reaches a bit farther to his right and selects a small, narrow-bladed knife with a metal handle carved in a fine, fish-scale pattern and brushed to a matte finish. He hands it to his niece. "Here. Try this one."

Silhouette smiles at the choice, "You have a good eye."

She looks down at Lark, "In Rebma, the common attack with be thus..." She demonstrates by stabbing forward, straight and focused. "That motion minimizes drag on the blade and will help you punch through any armor. Slashing only opens you to attack. So, practice this first."

Lark takes the knife, feels the give in the metal, and holds it the way Silhouette showed her. She demonstrates the forward stab. It's good, but it's clear she doesn't know what to do with her other arm.

"Daddy said I should be prepared to use a knife if I'm cornered and need to make enough space to get away. He showed me how to stab someone in the leg."

Silhouette circles the little girl like an appraising shark. Soon enough, she clucks her tongue, disapproving. "Your stance is unacceptable," she says, tapping the girl's free hand. "Hold your arm close to your chest, and fist near your neck. Without proper defense, your throat will be cut before you can stab anyone." As Lark watches, she demonstrates how to properly hold herself, as well as how to use her fist and forearm to protect the side of her neck and face.

"With your diminutive height, you have an advantage attacking the legs," she continues. "However, do not stab directly, as your blade may stick in the meat and muscle. Instead, slide the blade's edge along the inner thigh... here." She opens her leg, patting the upper thigh. "The motion is the same, but reduces the risk of losing your blade. Furthermore, you will likely open your opponent's femoral artery. In Rebma's watery environment, they'll bleed out quite rapidly. At the very least, you'll damage their gracilis and adductor magnus muscle, thus greatly hindering their movement."

"And your follow-through is critical too," Garrett adds, rising and holding out his hand as if he were holding a knife. "There'll be blood, and possibly a lot of it, as Silhouette said. Don't stop to watch. Stab quickly, and dodge away to their weak side." He demonstrates the move as he describes it, and finishes, "Then run."

Lark listens to it all, suddenly a serious five-year-old who can be trusted with difficult instructions.

When her uncle finishes, "How do you use a knife against zombies?," she asks, solemnly.

Silhouette blinks. With a side-glance to Garrett, she asks, "Is such an encounter possible?"

"Yes," Garrett answers flatly. "Maybe not here, but above. Martin ran into them in Shadow just before coming back."

Kneeling down to Lark's level, he reaches out and grasps her shoulders. "You don't," he commands firmly. "If you see such a thing, you run. You find a grown-up, preferably a relative, or if you're alone and can't run, you hide where it can't reach you. You're not to take on one of those by yourself. Understand?"

Lark nods, and practices the stances and methods Silhouette showed her. And she decides not to tell Uncle Garrett about shooting zombies with Daddy.

Silhouette watches with forest-shadow eyes, shaking her head disapproving or nodding in approval. She does more of the former than the latter.

Garrett rises and turns back to Silhouette. "Given what we know now about Lark's position here, should I have a different weapon if I'm to be her escort?"

Unless he was given something appropriate with the Rebman garb the butler gave him, Garrett's only weapon was a short, battered sword that he grabbed from the stable in Xanadu.

Silhouette nods lightly, "That would be best, I believe." She stalks along the rows of weapons, "If I recall from our sparring, you fight well with swords. However, are you skilled in rapiers and stilettos, preferably two handed fighting?"

"I did quite a bit of training with Abd-allah before I left Amber. Those weren't his preferred weapons, but we did a little work with them," Garrett explains. "What do you have in mind?"

Silhouette removes two blades from the wall - a wicked looking rapier and a short, serrated sword-breaker. "Test the weight of these," she says. "The Shark's Tooth is excellent for defending yourself against incoming attacks. And it is rare for assailants to carry more than one weapon."

Garrett takes the rapier first, weighs it in his hands, and does a few test strokes - mostly forward lunging. His footwork and style are reasonably good, but it is apparent that he didn't spend much time practicing in whatever shadows he was exploring. Still, he seems satisfied.

"That's a nice blade," he says, handing it back to Silhouette. He takes the Shark's Tooth more carefully, his generally peaceful nature ruffled at the violence of the thing. "Is something like this commonly used down here?" he asks, studying the blade with narrowed eyes.

Silhouette nods, "There are poisoned blades behind the sugared smiles. Insult is easily taken and rarely forgiven. So be ready to defend yourself. However, that does not mean you need to fight as Rebmans do. As a male, you already lack honor, so do not be constrained by it.

"If the blades are acceptable, consider them yours."

"Thank you," Garrett says.

She moves toward a seemingly empty corner of the chamber, "Now shall I fit you with my armor? Child is there a color you prefer?"

Lark looks over in the corner, trying to see what Silhouette is doing. "I like purple, like Mommy's hair. But maybe more reddish, because Daddy says it should hide the blood."

Garrett finds the belts and scabbards for both blades while Silhouette works with Lark. He buckles the rapier into his dominant sword position and places the Shark's Tooth, carefully scabbarded, on his non-dominant side.

Silhouette touches the wall, pressing pieces of coral in random succession. A section of wall opens to reveal a narrow antechamber, lined with weapons and various clothing. She enters briefly, only to return with a man's sheer shirt and a soft, purple girl's dress. In each case, the diaphanous material shimmers in the water like some deep sea jelly. "I believe these shall fit," she says. "They're strong enough to stop most edged weapons, but the blunt trauma will still hurt."

Lark is already undressing as Silhouette talks. It's quick, since she wasn't really formally dressed before. She puts on the purple dress. "Can we make it have more room for my arms to swing?" She steps back and walks through the knife techniques Silhouette showed her. Perfectly.

"Of course," Silhouette says, bending down to make the appropriate adjustments. "Hold still, please."

"You're definitely your father's daughter," Garrett observes.

Lark lets her adjust the dress and goes through the exercise again. "Thank you," she says.

[Garrett] takes the man's shirt from Silhouette, then steps back so she can make the adjustments to Lark's attire. Looking the shirt over critically, Garrett asks, "So does this go on over the shirt I have, or instead of?"

Silhouette glances up, "Instead of, if you would. It shall protect you and allow you to appear more... Rebman."

"All right," he concedes and reaches back to pull his current shirt off over his head. He sets it down and pulls the new one on, adjusting it for comfort. "So when is the next event we need to attend? Is there a court schedule I should know about?" he asks.

Silhouette checks him, making certain it fits properly. She nods in satisfaction. "Events are unusually random at the moment. Most distressing," she says, clucking her tongue.

"However, perhaps, we should have you fed and contact the Queen? I'm sure she has plans for you both."

She looks over to Lark, "Are you hungry, Little Fish?"

Lark shakes her head. "No. I had a lot of food at the party." It's hard to believe that it's only a few hours after the celebration of Edan's knights in Xanadu, but it is. If Lark is anything, it's tired. Or she would be if she wasn't a little child of Amber.