Brennan departs his impromptu conversation with the Ard Righ and allows himself to be led to his guest quarters. He makes sure his Knights are similarly quartered and has the presence of mind to ask where the Moonriders are quartered, at least in general terms. More to make sure everyone stays out of everyone's way, for the moment. He has no immediate intention of breaking guest courtesy after cultivating the Maghee for so long.
However long it is until the the banquet begins, Brennan leaves orders to rouse him after half that length of time and then disappears into his quarters. There probably isn't enough time for a good soak, but he does at least get rid of the armor and scrubs himself down from the washbasin of warm water that--surely-- someone must have provided, before collapsing into a heap of sleep so exhausted that he isn't even troubled by dreams.
When roused, he thanks the rouse-er, but does not emerge. He dresses himself in the clean clothing that-- again, surely-- someone has left for him, and shuffles out his cards.
Fiona? No, too much dancing around the issue of who First's mother is. Let someone else hop on that grenade. Brennan will volunteer someone-- someone else-- if necessary.
Bleys? No, surely someone has briefed him, and while Brennan definitely has questions for him, they're mostly the same questions he had before. He needs new information before he can ask newly intelligent questions.
Caine? Yes. When you need it comes down to knives in kidneys, when it comes to sucker punches, when you want the bank shot or the dirt that everyone else forgot, you call Caine.
Brennan turns the rest of his cards over, face down, and concentrates on Caine waiting for the card to go cold and contact to happen.
"Hello, Uncle," Brennan says. "I'm in Avalon. I'll be happy to give you the latest, but at the risk of treading on Family etiquette it'll help if you tell me how far back over the last two days to go."
"Hello Brennan. I assume you are a prisoner, but can't be rescued for some esoteric reason, and that that's why you're in Avalon and not getting ready to answer his majesty's summons." Caine is not a great poker player, because he bets on the wrong hands, but he is good at not revealing his hand too early. "Be that as it may, perhaps you can start with the lead-up to the mass-departure from Xanadu for the Xanandu stairs to Tirna n'Ogth. Highlights, please, I'll ask questions after you get to your capture and inprisionment."
Right, imprisoned in Avalon. We'll go with that, Brennan thinks.
"Did you see the royal announcement from the balcony, at Xanadu?" He asks. It's rhetorical, because he doesn't wait for an answer. "If yes, you'll know what I mean when I say it was concerning. If not, you'll have to take my word for it, and take my word that the crowd, the city, seemed to sense it. The mood... turned. Quickly. Enough so that impromptu Family consultations were breaking out and some of us thought it wise to move those out of sight and sound, at the Grove.
"Whatever grand conversation--" and Brennan imagines that Caine is imagining a grand brawl between a pit of vipers on hot, smoking coals-- "never happened. Word came that a Ranger in the vicinity of the Stair had found his own body. Not all of us went, but probably half my generation rallied there with what small forces we could gather at the spur of the moment, which was not much. As you will expect from that lead-up, the Moonriders came, a small vanguard approaching from the treeline although I-- possibly only I-- saw echoes of them where the stair would be if it had been present.
"We thought there would be a battle. There was not. There was a duel, between Conner and the van's leader, who bore the Pattern Blade called Tizon, which once had been called Flamberge." Brennan pauses for a long beat, observing Caine as closely as Caine must be observing him, before he answers the obvious but unasked question: "No Pattern I know." He lets that sink in a half beat and continues again. "Conner won, and they retreated, their leader captive.
"We briefed the Protector, judging that the threat was likely to be symmetric at his Stair as well. It was. A smaller group of us came to Avalon where we fought more conventional battle leading his forces. Conventional at least in the context of Moonriders. We prevailed, but the leaders, the three true Moonriders among those forces, escaped using Sorcery where only I could follow, which I did. I am embroiled in local politics, but have secured an agreement whereby I will escort them back to Ghenesh, rather than leaving them at loose ends to cause trouble, raise more armies, or try to backstep and eliminate all our hard work," Brennan concludes.
Caine looks at first unsurprised and then interested. Brennan may have told him about the confrontation at the stairs for the first time. He seemed to know about the King. "Flamberge is the legendary sword of mythical King Charlemagne, and it doesn't exist, but you all saw it and it was a Pattern Sword, wielded by a Moon Rider? Has anyone shared this with Corwin? If you captured the leader, who has Tizana? Do you intend to go with them?"
"I saw it, wielded by a Moonrider. I felt it, used against Halosydne as it was. We all did," Brennan says. "And yes, I spoke to your brother personally, just after things were winding down, before I left for Avalon.
"I am not with the group that has custody of that leader, who is styling herself, 'First to the Fray', now," Brennan continues. "Immediately after the duel, several of us briefed Benedict, he called for volunteers, and I was one of them. It's been hours of fighting and chasing since then-- through the night and into the day. I also can't tell you who has the blade, but I expect trying to keep it from her is about as futile as trying to keep one of us captive."
"And while I am happy to receive this information, what makes you call me?"
Brennan is far too politic to point out that Caine is one of the few cards he actually has, and just sufficiently proud not to say it's thanks for bringing him out of the cold all those years ago at Patternfall.
"A hunch. Best practices. I could have called Bleys, but I'm looking for perspective and Bleys and I think too much alike, at times. It may already have paid off: Is Charlemagne the same as Carolus or Karol le Magne of Paris? Why do you say he is a myth?"
Caine nods at the compliment, or takes the statement as a compliment even if it isn't. "Yes, those those are all names for the rumored king whose Kingdom rivaled Amber, but was always said to be somewhere mythically inaccessible, like, the Prester John's Kingdon far side of the infidel kingdom, or in the opposite orbit around the sun, or another Amber completely separate from our on on the far side of Chaos, as if that's even meaningful. The stories about a mythical king are mythic in nature, and that's usually clue number two."
Brennan makes a highly non-committal sound at the back of his throat. It's a bit odd to hear the man with the Unicorn Grandma playing the role of skeptic and rationalist, but he did say he was looking for perspective.
"Have you met Firumbras?" he asks. "The Knight who was brought back from that bizarre excursion to retrieve the Queen some time back, the one who looks as though he's of old Tir-na Nog'th heritage? He introduces himself as 'Sir Firumbras, formerly of the court of King Carol of Paris.' I haven't had the time to pick his brain as much as I'd like, but he speaks of living in a Paris co-existent with Amber, Rebma, and Tir-na Nog'th before its fall. The simplest explanation, leaving aside someone just lying outright, is that this place did once exist, that it had a Pattern blade, and that it's been found and re-named by the High Marshall's daughter.
"Too bad for that idea that Weyland only admits to forging three such blades," Brennan concludes. "Ever hear of anyone at all doing that other than Weyland?"
"Legendary doesn't mean non-existent. We're legendary to most people. Are you not, very specifically, 'The Great God Brennan'? Lir is a myth and we have seen a coffin with his name on it. When I talk about Legendary Kings, it is to emphasize the difference between them and the kind of places like Bellum or Gateway, where you can get your hair cut.
"It's possible, even for a pattern-walking child of the line of Dworkin, to believe in things that cannot be seen or walked to. Perhaps it's rare, but it's possible."
Caine takes a sip of a drink that wasn't in frame earlier -- something dark and rich served over ice. "What you meant to ask me, I suspect, is why I am certain Flamberge does not exist. When I was in want of a legendary sword, I went in search of it, and found proof that it had been destroyed."
Brennan briefly weighs the pros and cons of getting involved in a discussion about the different connotations of 'legend' vs 'myth' but decides to let it pass, at least for now.
"To put a slightly wider net around the question, I'd be curious as to what constitutes proof of its destruction, other than pieces of it in your hands," he says. Brennan can feel the pieces of his sword-lore rumbling in his mind, looking for a better configuration.
Caine nods. "I've almost got that close. The destruction of the shadow it was in, in fire and ash. I could see it, but could not save it. I fled to save myself."
Brennan scowls in thought while he thinks about that. After a lengthy pause from someone who usually thinks very quickly, Brennan says, "That sounds like a Hell of a story, that might shed some light on First-to-the-Fray's past actions.
"But I'm going to concede ignorance on one point. I've heard Brand use that phrase and others like it: Destruction of a shadow. At first I thought he meant it literally. Metaphysically, but literally, and it brought to mind an image of a soap bubble collapsing into nothingness with all its inhabitants and contents. Or perhaps a better image would be a shadow with a new source of light cast over it. When I was a little older, I started to understand poetic license and thought more in terms of a natural disaster, like the stories I'd heard of Atlant-Ys or Knoss-Ys. And not too long after that, I realized that he was... not entirely reliable." Brennan was probably going to say something a lot less charitable, until the last moment. "I'm not going to understand anything until I understand what that term means."
Caine shrugs. "There are lots of ways to read it, and in the enormity of the lands of shadows, probably all are true. Corwin thought his Avalon was gone, destroyed because he failed to maintain it, and it changed under him to something he didn't want. And still Benedict reached it, or something close enough that it knew of Corwin.
"But what is it to destroy a shadow if you or I can walk to what we desire? My definition is 'to make it unreachable'. Huon, Reid, Fletcher were all in such destroyed places, probably Finumbras and Lir as well. It makes me wonder if they weren't our cousins. I hope that the kind of reset that let those and Tizona come around again is something I never have to live through again, but we're effectively in a world where several individual hells have broken loose.
"From Brand's point of view, they were destroyed, because never in his lifetime were they reached."
After all this time, Brennan still finds the formalized, Familial solipsism somewhat odd. Not for the first time, he wonders if it's just him, or if it's a broader generational thing.
"You are suggesting that Oberon's repair is the root cause of all of these... re-emergences," Brennan says. "That tracks a speculation many of us have made, with more formality behind it. It carries a lot of implications, too. Let's start with these:
"Was that the nature of Ghenesh? A prison shadow that we destroyed by inaccessibility until Oberon's actions? Or if not, then the flip side of it-- could a theoretical Moonrider, one of sufficient power or talent, access one of these destroyed places by moving back to before its destruction?"
"Have you considered asking your aunt, who has a son by an Altamarean? I think the best answer is that it's a region of the lands around Tir, or maybe the equivalent of their golden circle. The place was only important because of the order of knights based there, who were loyal to the Queen of Tir, and then to her aspect as the Queen of Air and Darkness." Caine pushes his glass aside and it vanishes from the view.
Brennan shrugs: The notion of Ghenesh being a destroyed or unreachable place-- a vanished prison Shadow-- had only occurred to him just now.
"I hadn't considered it. However, consider us. A typical locked room mystery, the door is locked from the outside and the only key is within. How did the murderer get in and out? If he was one of us, he walked to adjacent shadows that did not have doors, or something along those lines. If you only think in the dimensions you know, then some things may seem impossible that are quite possible."
Caine leans in. He looks like he's enjoying this chat. "But the answer is still 'probably not'. Any guesses as to why?"
"I prefer informed speculation to guessing, and I don't have enough information yet to be making comfortable speculations," Brennan says with a frown of dissatisfaction, "But who am I to stand in the way of a good Socratic dialogue? First-- and this is a pure hunch-- I don't think a Moonrider can backstep past their birth or whatever date they acquired these abilities. You haven't told me where or how long ago your encounter was, but it sounds distant in the past and I'm not sure First is that old." Inasmuch as age is a well defined concept, here.
"Second, the act itself may cause the place to become not lost, but found... or perhaps never to have been destroyed in that sense at all." Brennan still thinks this smacks of Elder solipsism, the type of which he's never been able fully to wrap his head around, but he doesn't say it.
"And third, I think it would be tough to pull that off without also having our control over Shadow as well. I would find that... at least close to compelling if we weren't dealing with someone who found and is wielding a Pattern Sword, which means we might be dealing with one helluva nasty exception."
Caine nods. "Exactly, control over shadow. Even if they could jump back a century, and then wait for the shadow to be lost, recover the artifact, and then jump back fifty years to wander out of it, they'd need to be able to get to it. They can't go there in the present and move backwards, because it isn't in the present.
"It seems a lot more like something one of us would need to be involved in.
"But I have an easier question that gives a more probably answer. 'How did Corwin recover Greyswandir?' It turns out I don't know, but according to the stories from Rebma, he had it before he even recovered his memories."
Caine leans back. "I think you need to find out which of our kinfolk gave it to her, and what it was in payment for."
Brennan's inner voice wants to point out that there's a simpler and far more dangerous explanation for all this. Luckily his outer voice puts his inner voice in a choke-hold and takes the opportunity to close out the subject: "Yeah, someone needs to figure out what happened, that's for sure.
"Here's a history question that's related to all this mess: When exactly did all this happen? I gather the last invasion was recent enough that Bleys was leading armies, but before my birth and I guess before Random's birth, too. But when was Tir-na Nog'th actually broken? I've gotten it in my head that it was during Faiella's era, but I can't recall why I think that. It nags at me," Brennan says.
Caine leans back, and it's clear he doesn't know either. "Tir has been broken for a long time. You'll need to ask Benedict what he remembers, if anything. It might've had something to do with his brothers, but I'm just guessing. I can't see any lesser effort than the death of one of us breaking a place like that."
"I missed my chance, the last time we spoke at length," Brennan confesses. "It explains his responses, though. We were talking past each other. I was thinking of it as something that happened in his lifetime-- in his adulthood-- and in retrospect I think it may have been even before his birth, and it's been bothering me ever since." He frowns, considers a vulgarity, then decides the sentiment is understood. "Which, if true, means the number of people alive with direct memories are few and far between."
Caine nods, there.s nothing that needs to be said in reply.
"Which leads me to my next question, which I am compelled to ask as bluntly as possible: Why is it imperative to stop them? What actually happens if they return to Tir-na Nog'th? It's not just a moral question, but a strategic one-- the more we understand cause and consequences, the better able we are to aid the fight."
Caine leans backwards, and seems to be reaching further back, mentally. "From Tir, the Moonriders posed an existential threat to Amber. When they did come down in force, they bypassed the castle and sacked the city for 3 days. We had them contained, with Eric in the castle and me holding the docks, and keeping them somewhat busy. Bleys and father showed up out of the northern badlands with an army which was their equal and drove them towards Arden, where Benedict and Corwin met them at Jones Falls and defeated them.
"Amber is no longer at risk, but it would be very dangerous for Xanadu to have an enemy hold the literal high ground."
"Right," Brennan says, "I've read every account from that period I could find. And even accounting for the Moonriders' abilities, which few except Family would have really understood, there are some things that don't make sense without some... extraordinary leaps of faith or logic. Such as: How'd they get to that high ground in number sufficient to sack the City without anyone noticing, especially since this is long after whatever happened to break the place?" That's not a rhetorical question, per se, but it's also not the thrust of his inquiry.
Caine assumes Brennan only asks questions he wants answered. "You're going to have to ask someone older than me. I don't think that anyone expected they could attack from the stairs, but then they were there. I asked at the time if the castle was supposed to protect the city from Riders from Tir, and Benedict suggested that that was clear in the placement of it. Possibly it was to him, but I had to think about where the castle would be if it was to protect the city. It's not."
"But that's not really my point. At the last big Family council, I got the pointed impression that something bad, something Real and Substantively bad," Brennan says it like Fiona would say it, unmistakably adding metaphysical connotations to it, "would happen if the Moonriders or their Queen regained Tir. I guess I'm asking if this is 'just' politics and ancient blood feuds from before my generation were born, or if this is more apocalyptic in the way of Patterfall?
"Or is it necessarily both because their politics will drive them to try to destroy all the other Realms, now?" Brennan asks.
Caine shrugs. "If I'd been kept away from Amber for five or six centuries by my enemies, I'd certainly cut a path there with an army. Corwin did, and he didn't even know he was supposed to be brooding about it for most of that time." He pauses. "I don't know much about the metaphysical side of it, all the talk of 'imbalances' and 'valence mismatches' quickly overcame my limited understanding of the universe." He looks away, sourly. The topic seems to have suddenly annoyed him.
Brennan grunts in some measure of sympathy, if not for precisely the same reasons. But as useful as the information is that Caine doesn't know either-- it means it isn't obvious, it's going to be like pulling teeth even from Bleys, and it's probably something he's going to need to transmit to the rest of his generation if another of his cohort doesn't do it first-- sympathy from a Redhead probably isn't going to go over well.
He realizes he still has a skeptical expression on his face. "If the castle was placed to defend the City from Tir, it didn't do a very good job of it. That is possibly explained by the Moonriders not having the same abilities at the founding of Amber as they did during the sack-- which is actually true, as far as I know-- but that has a lot of implications to work through."
Caine doesn't lose his slightly annoyed, slightly bored expression. "If Random is right, what we learned is that castles appear over patterns and a city grow next to them. And for some reason, we create patterns half way up mountains, to get the worst of both worlds, defense-wise.
"It doesn't make tactical sense to put your castle a half a mile from your city, unless your city is not as important to your castle as something else."
"Like the one that Oberon died repairing," Brennan says. "It does lie on the interior of the rest, to a certain way of thinking."
Caine shrugs. "As you say."
"One last question," Brennan says: "I can't think of any better way to remove the three Moonrider commanders from the theater, besides straight up murder, than to escort them back to Ghenesh. It's not set in stone, but they seem to have accepted it as a fait accompli, so let's assume that happens. What would you keep your eyes open for? You can interpret that as a broad request for advice, and an opportunity to indulge your own curiosity if things fall out right."
"It's quite a thing. I'd say 'learn all you can, but make sure never to relinquish your trumps.' I'd go in your place, if I could."
Brennan gives an extremely wry smile.
"Those Moonriders I've had or observed any interaction with seem somewhat honor focused. These three-- Unsheathed, Vigil, and Slayer of Shadows-- made it quite clear that if I broke the peace they'd execute Firumbras, the guarantor of peace." Brennan studies his fingernails for a moment, possibly offended at the notion that he would 'break the peace' poorly enough to leave any of them alive to protest. "So I've got that going for me. But if I end up floating back into the harbor face down, take it out on those three."
"If they were truly honorable, they'd expect Finumbras to challenge you for breaking the peace and that he would die defending it. If he's really honorable and accepted the role, he would, too. However, I will raise the hue and cry if your corpse is fished from the harbor unexpectedly."
"That said, I'd have a Trump tattooed on the inside of my eyelids if I could," he quips. "And for damn sure I'm not heading over there just to balance the hostage exchange equation. So if everything goes pear-shaped, I desire no hostage exchange. I don't intend to get taken captive and I'll lead on one hell of a ride if I have to... but if it all goes south, I am not worth as much as First."
Caine nods, but seems unconcerned. "Nobly said, but circumstances and royal prerogative will determine that matter. If the question arises, would you be willing to marry First to resolve things? My money was on Edan but I think that's off the table."
"No."
"Duly noted."
When Ossian is done painting he calls Brennan again.
"Ossian again."
Brennan looks considerably better rested than he did a few hours ago at their last conversation.
"What news? Did you reach our uncle?" he asks.
"Yes, he was less disappointed than we feared. I and Jerod are helping him with another matter now.
"I made a Trump sketch for you." Ossian adds. "It's probably rather frail, but should be working."
Brennan takes the Trump with thanks, but carefully keeps it face away from him. He has no idea what kind of lethal feedback could result if he accidentally, even partially, activates it while already in Trump contact with Ossian.
He grins at the characterization of Benedict, less dissapointed than anticipated. "It's not a total victory until I remove these three loose Moonriders from the immediate vicinity, but we didn't do too badly. If Benedict won't say it, I will: We should be proud of what we've accomplished so far. Measured, cautiously, but proud. That means you, too. You fought well. If you and Jerod haven't already done it, you make sure that sentiment gets back to the men we led."
Ossian nods.
"What task did Benedict set you to? Does it keep you away from the Family Council?" Brennan asks.
"We are hunting corsairs, with probable ties to earlier ugly business in Amber. I haven't heard of a council? When?"
"Weren't we all supposed to assemble for the King, ostensibly to hear news of the impending Royal Heir?" Brennan asks.
Ossian nods. "We might miss that. I'll try to keep you posted."
"As for the corsairs, did our uncle tell you Moire is tangled up and manipulating them?" Brennan waits for Ossian to bring Jerod into the contact if they want to. "I'll keep this as short as I can and then let you ask any questions you may have."
Ossian asks Jerod to join him.
He joins, putting a hand on Ossian's shoulder.
"First, it took months to get this information, much of it done under the cover name of Walker. Second, whatever else they're doing, Moire and Montage are covering their tracks and pulling strings using mind manipulation and geases. Love draughts, cases of selective amnesia, etc. Their agents don't know their own memories have been edited, and once you convince them they still don't have the details you want. Third, I was keeping cover and didn't try to break the geas myself-- I probably could have but might have damaged them further. Local shadow magic by the Maghee can make headway, but hasn't broken it entirely yet.
"Fourth, one known victim/agent was a captain named Jellicoe, who was last in custody among our Uncle's allies in a place called Montparnasse. He might have been ransomed by now. Another is a man named Cledwyn who is--" Brennan looks around, "--Actually, probably still here at the Silver Towers. Sixth and finally, Montage is with near certainty posing as an admiral named Stratum. 'The Admiral is a naval genius whose plans account for every possible contingency.'" Brennan seems to be quoting an answer that he's heard one too many times for his liking. "We have a sketch of him. With less but still high certainty, Moire is posing as the admiral's mother, War-Leader Syke.
"That's all I've got," Brennan says. "Use it how you will. Oh, and Celina knows much or all of that. Since the obvious gambit is a bid to re-take Rebma, we thought it best to loop her in."
Jerod is silent as he parses the information for a moment. "Well, it certainly gives us a much better reason to kill Montage at least. Never really disliked Grandmother mind you, but if she's pulling another Rebman Invasion plan, that's getting old real fast. Time to put that one to bed."
"I've got no beef with her either, except this." Brennan says. "Hell, I've never even met her. But I did know Khela, and I do know Celina, and the last thing we need is a civil war in Rebma at the same time as the Moonriders are kicking off another phase in the larger civil war of Realm vs Realm. If I can answer any questions or line up any assistance from here, now is the time to ask. Otherwise I've got a few more things on this end and we can be about our respective tasks."
Ossian nods. "We'll be careful then."
Jerod nods. "Agreed. Let's go see about digging out Montage at least. More like Moire will be harder to reach, but burn her servants and that will stall some of her plans hopefully."
"Good. A few last things that might be of interest if not of immediate use: Caine thinks First's blade is associated with Carolus Magnus and... Old Paris, for lack of a better way to say it. Which is curious, because he also had reason to believe that it was lost forever. His take on it is that it would have taken the combined abilities of a Moonrider and one of us to recover, therefore First must have had one of us helping her." By his expression, Brennan doesn't buy that.
"Second, those three Moonrider commanders are still here and killing them is off the table for the moment. I can't think of any better way to resolve this situation here than escorting them back to Ghenesh. For damn sure I can't leave them here to raise another army. They've tacitly agreed to that, but it's not set in stone, yet. Even so, since the military threat is over, I'd appreciate you sending my Knights through unless you see a need for them. Maybe ask Regenlief where she fits in this, too."
Brennan has nothing else.
The sending of Knights is agreed upon, plus it takes care of what to do with the extras prior to heading out to handle Benedict's job. Jerod's reaction to the news about First and Carolus Magnus is one of "Hmm..." but nothing more, as he is a bit out of the loop on the Paris ancient histories.
Once that is done, a road trip is in order.
Ossian asks Regenlief if she wants to help Brennan with the Moonriders. After all, she's probably better suited for that than skulking around in a city looking for pirates.
"No, there is no need to give them two hostages. I will act as your bodyguard, my Lord."
Ossian nods.
Brennan accepts his Knights through the contact with Ossian and waits for his son to close the contact. He also has a runner sent for Crescent and Flagstone.
"Before I say another single word, let me say this: Congratulations on not merely surviving, but winning the first battle with the Moonriders in our era. That was a hell of a skirmish, and you'll tell your grand-children about it some day. When you do, tell them I am damn proud to have fought beside you that day." He lets that soak into them before continuing.
"Right now, we are on an island just off the coast of Avalon proper, where Crescent, Flagstone and I followed the fleeing Moonrider commanders. I'll let them tell you about it," Brennan says. "For now, here is what you need to know: Avalon, as you've likely surmised, is like Xanadu is and Amber was, but more martial and warlike. And this island, on which rests this silver-spired keep, was under the sea a week ago. It is occupied by the Maghee peoples, ruled by my friend King Ramjollock. The Maghee people are not well loved in Avalon, but I like them. For all of those reasons and more, while the Maghee have been first to occupy the place, there are quite a few tribes, clans, and peoples who would like to massacre them, take this place, and invade Avalon. In the absence of the Moonriders, that would all be my primary focus.
"As it is, they are now secondary, because those Moonriders cannot be allowed to roam free. They may also have some history with the Maghee I do not yet understand. So here is what is going to happen, until such time as outside events drive this plan right into the ditch: Ramjollock is going to throw a banquet." Brennan shrugs a shrug of royal indulgence. "Time permitting, I'm going to go talk to some of the besiegers and try to convince them that they'd rather live to fight another day. And then more than likely, we're going to escort our three new best friends back to Ghenesh." He lets that sink in for a minute, too. "Think of it as a scouting and reconnaissance mission."
"So, first, some things not to do: It shouldn't come up, but none of you know anything about Benedict. This probably will come up, though: None of you know anyone named Corwin, either. Period. Same with a place called Paris. The rest of the Family..." Brennan shrugs. "Be coy, leave them wanting more. If you happen to contradict each other, I won't be sad. Aside from that, the Maghee are prickly due to their history, but they're good folk, most of them. The Moonriders, though.... they don't come from a maritime trading culture like we do. They come from a horse-bound honor culture. Therefore, Do Not Provoke Them. Speaking of which, some of you may know or know of Sir Firumbras? He is also here. Do not confuse him for a Moonrider, he's also a friend."
"Second, jobs:
"Jennet, the Maghee are a people with an oral culture as well as written holy books. Do what you can to pick up as many of their myths and legends as you can. Be ready to keep a professional game-face on while you do it. Bonus points if you get details on any shared history between the Moonriders and the Maghee. You're working in teams, all of you, so don't get separated. Take Korbie with you.
"Patience and Pebble, do your best to figure out the details on the ground here-- what the supply situation is like, morale inside and out, secret ways in and out they may have discovered. Ultimately: How long can this place hold if we have to leave and deal with the Moonriders first. This won't be easy-- these people know me, but not you. Do the best you can.
"Crescent, Flagstone, you're still mostly with me, paying attention to the Moonriders. You're the ones who followed with me, we're the ones that they expected to fight at the top of that tower. Let's keep their attention on us, off everyone else.
"Questions?"
The knights have no questions, and are ready to carry out their orders.
Tenacity intends to go with Brennan. A KCOR needs a squire to be properly ready for his duties.
Brennan sets off, Knights in tow, to find any of King Ramjollock, or Skogen, or Sir Firumbras, , to make introductions that will ease the Knights' various tasks.
His first preference among those (and he's not above sending a runner to make it happen) is any one of them not occupied by Moonriders. If none of them are so occupied, then his preference is the order mentioned above.
After that, it depends on how quickly Ramjollock intends to start that banquet.
Ramjollock is in his study, talking to Cledwyn. "Hello, Brennan the Walker! I hear you have brought company for the feast! How many soldiers can you move behind the castle walls like that?" He's smiling, but it's probably a real concern.
Brennan begins to try to answer that, then lets it go with, "....It's complicated. But more to the point, don't think of these as mere soldiers. These are Knights of the Order of the Ruby." Brennan introduces them by name to Ramjollock. "One reason I brought them is to pay appropriate honor to our newfound friends the Moonriders as we escort them back home." Brennan flashes a smile about as bright as the Silver Towers themselves. "But while we're here, I'm mindful of our previous discussion and the forces gathering outside. With your kind permission, I'd like to take my people around, show them the situation, and leave them to help your people."
"Granted," says Ramjollock. "Please introduce them to Sir Firumbras, and bring them to our feast."
"As you say, King Ramjollock. Cledwyn, I'm glad to see you here also-- we should talk when the King does not require you." Looking back to Ramjollock: "By your leave."
Brennan feels a familiar mental pressure as a trump call starts to come through.
As Brennan departs, once he's clear of Ramjollock and Cledwyn, he mutters, "Bide," to his callers. He knows the Knights understand Trumps; he doesn't care if his callers witness what he's doing; he just isn't eager to be seen walking through the Silver Towers talking to himself. He hurries to find Firumbras, explains what he needs, and then turns his attention to the Trump call.
Last modified: 16 July 2019