Merlin's Morning

Early on the morning after the coronation Ossian will try to find Merlin.

[Does Merlin have a room? In that case he will try Merlin's room first.]

[Yes. It used to be Folly's, so Ossian has no trouble finding it.]

Merlin opens the door at Ossian's knock. He is already dressed. "Yes, Ossian?" he says.

"Sorry to disturb you so early in the morning, Merlin." Ossian says "I was under the impression that you are leaving soon again?"

"I am collecting Trumps for the king. We are trying to find one of each cousin." Ossian smiles. "I was wondering if you could provide with one of yourself, and possibly one of Aisling."

Merlin invites Ossian in.

Ossian gladly accepts.

[Whether Ossian accepts or not] Merlin goes into the bedchamber and returns after a few moments with a single card. "This is my own Trump. I have none of Aisling, though."

"You haven't? Very well, then maybe I will get to paint one sooner." Ossian does not sound sad at the thought of having to paint an Aisling Trump.

"Can I take this for the Kings collection?" he asks as Merlin hands his card over. "we intend to let everyone in the family use it if they need to, with whatever risks that include."

"His Majesty has already taken one of Martin from me, and I promised him one of myself. That one will do," says Merlin.

"Good." Ossian says, carefully stowing away Merlin's Trump.

"Aisling told me you made a trump sketch of her. What happened to that one?"

Merlin thinks about this, and settles on, "It was used as a conduit for sorcerous power, which burned it out." Ossian feels he was looking for a good way to describe something and settled for less.

"Oh, Aisling didn't know it was destroyed." Ossian says. "A conduit for sorcerous power? I know very little of that stuff, haven't even seen anything of it, I think. What did you do?"

Merlin thinks about this question for a moment and opens his mouth to explain when ...

Let's put Brennan's knock on the door here....

Merlin looks at Ossian, and says "Excuse me. I seem to be popular this morning. Perhaps it is something about my imminent departure that makes me so."

Ossians eyes flashes with irritation for a moment, but aferwards he grins.

[Brennan says] "Good morning, Merlin. I was afraid it might be too early, but I wanted to speak before you left for-- Ah. Ossian, too. Someone else I've been meaning to talk to."

"Good morning, cousin" Ossian says, while his eyes convey a feeling of surprise. He sits leaning back in his chair, his hands behind his neck.

Merlin says, "We are not leaving until midday. Ossian was just asking me about cards for the King's repository. How may I help you, cousin?"

Brennan shrugs. "I know, but I don't think I'm going to have more than five minutes at rest from now until evening... and I don't like leaving things to chance. I came looking for information, if you'd care to share."

Merlin considers that statement, and nods.

If it looks like he cares to share, he begins, "Dara, I know. Her redheaded henchman, I don't. And I never even saw the one who took Brita. Call me old-fashioned, but I like to know who it is that's declared war on my home. Do you know them, or have any likely candidates?"

Ossian keeps his relaxed posture, but most people can tell he's alert and curious.

"I did not see the one who took Brita, but I understand he Parted the Veil to leave. That limits the number of candidates. He is likely a kinsman, of one of the branches of the family with which I am less than familiar. Of the redhead, I would think other avenues of pursuit to be more likely than inquiring through me. Do not the descendants of Clarissa stick together closely?" Merlin asks.

Brennan gives a grim chuckle. "When we're not throwing sharp objects at each other, yes. Besides, I already asked and got no answer-- he's quite the enigma to me. I'm assuming the worst, but was hoping you might have known him, since he's in neck deep with Dara. Alas."

Merlin says, "My existence was a counter to your father's plot. I was carefully concealed from him. I had no opportunity to meet anyone from that branch of the family."

Brennan gives a start, looks at Merlin, and starts to say something. He gets as far as opening his mouth before realizing that he can't say anything coherent right now.

All the Water in the room can pass, for the moment-- his expression is unreadable, because he both doesn't know what to make of that, and knows all too well, at the same time.

Merlin looks both vaguely amused and sympathetic at the same time.

After a moment, Brennan's emotions anneal down into a state of controlled and distant anger-- motivating anger-- but certainly not at Merlin or Ossian.

[Brennan] changes topics, a bit, "Everything happened so quickly, last night, that I never got the story, even from Paige. What was it that had you using a Trump during the middle of the Masquerade? That was about the time all Hell started breaking loose-- was it related?"

"The Raven confronted me and told me I had to return to Borel with my mother. Paige trumped me in the middle of our conversation, and I took the opportunity to remove myself from the situation," Merlin says.

Ossian frowns and seems to make a mental note.

[Brennan]
"Damn. I had heard a rumor recently that before his death, Borel was developing a spy of his own. I had been wondering if that had been him you had encountered. Do you know if those rumors are correct?"

"I have no idea," Merlin responds, and frowns. "I was not privy to many of my grandfather's inner plans. Borel always feared that I would tell Martin anything I thought might threaten him. Where did you hear the rumor that Borel was preparing a spy?"

"The obvious."

"I am not certain I find its reports reliable," says Merlin, a bit tartly.

"I am not certain I blame you. That's why I ask questions."

[Merlin] looks apologetically at Ossian.

...who returns the look with a smile.

Brennan sees these, but comments later.

"If Borel was preparing a spy, wouldn't Dara also want to use him as a spy? Exposing himself on a masquerade ball does not seem like the best career start for a spy to me?" Ossian says.

Brennna looks like he's trying to distill a few centuries of operational paranoia into something that can be concisely expressed.

He fails thusly: "We spend our lives hoping that our adversaries are fools, but planning that they are geniuses. We do this in the dark, with boxing gloves on, but we have to be ready for either possibility. Any piece of information that helps us decide, or categorize, is helpful. The worst is when your adversary is brilliant, but you don't fully understand the goals. Understanding a seemingly foolish move can sometimes be critical."

"I do not think my mother had any way to know about the event called here 'the Sundering'. Even if she had access to a spy, which I consider unlikely, communications would be difficult for any being not extremely sorcerously powerful. And she did come here in person, which suggests she bent her powers to that end," Merlin says.

"The spy story I doubt also, on a moment's reflection. Madoc is wily, and that he spawned and sent such a spy I can believe. But Borel's reliance was on strength of arms and sorcery, in both of which he was almost without peer. A being that could spawn my mother and not feel the loss is extremely powerful. I hope for the sake of Amber that reports of his demise are not premature." He looks a little disturbed.

"As for the likelihood that he spawned and sent a spy, I do not think much of it. It would be a reasonable expenditure of energy and power he needed for his military efforts; I never saw any evidence of him being weakened in the way that such a spawning would weaken him; and it simply was not his way. As well, he hoped to get any information he might want from Martin, although Martin, never having been in Amber until his father brought him here, was of limited use in such ways."

He concludes: "I am not certain that my logic is perfect, but those are the facts as I see them."

"Thank you. Good news for Amber, if not for Aisling," Brennan says. He's curious about one point, though: "Would the creation of such a spy really have drained him as much or more than the creation of Dara? Or did I misunderstand?"

"One that could survive in Amber, yes, I believe so. Amber is very--odd--to one of Chaotic background," Merlin says.

[Brennan]
"If [Dara] didn't know about the Sundering, then I wonder if she was intending to use, or to harm the Pattern."

"Can Dara survive in Amber?" Ossian asks quickly.

[Brennan]
"Or Paris?"

"She has taken the Pattern," says Merlin, as if that should answer the question.

"Hm. I hope you will not be offended if I ask how you survive here." Ossian says. "Being Dara's son, I mean."

"I am the son of Prince Corwin, after the fashion of Amber. I have walked the Pattern of Paris in my own right. My father does not think I am in any danger in Amber," Merlin says. "But I am not knowledgeable in matters of the Pattern, either in theory or in practice. I know only what my elders have told me."

"The Pattern of Pa...?" Ossian shakes his head in disbelief.

Merlin nods.

Brennan nods. This makes a certain amount of sense to him. "I can try to answer any questions you have, Merlin, but I'm not sure how good a teacher I am, or how qualified to teach."

In clear reference to the glances that passed between Merlin and Ossian, [Brennan] says. "I could come back later. Especially if the questions are making you uncomfortable." But he'd clearly prefer not to, because he wants to talk to Ossian, too, and, "I don't exactly have a means of contacting you after your departure."

Merlin looks at Ossian, and says, "Ossian and I were discussing matters of Art. Perhaps both of you will accompany me and my father to Paris, and we can continue our discussions there."

Brennan looks very much as though he'd like to go. Because he would like to go. Alas, "Merlin, I'm honored. I would very much like to accept your invitation, but... I cannot. Brita is still missing, and I offered Fiona whatever help I can lend, last night. I cannot."

"Paris?" Ossian asks, sounding like there is something new in the name. "Shall I consider this an invitation?"

"Yes," says Merlin. "We leave at midday. I had hoped to wait longer, but my father says we must depart at once."

"So soon?" Ossian says "You tempt me to neglect my duties, cousin. I have some unfinished business here, Trumps to paint. May I Trump you when that job is finished?"

"Of course," says Merlin. "If there is some way I may aid you in that duty while in Paris, I would be happy to do so."

"Well, maybe...Who is going there except for you and your father?"

"Lord Vere and Prince Jerod. Perhaps Sir Marius and Lady Cambina. I do not know if my father has asked anyone else of the family to join us. I believe some of the Rebmans will be returning with us, and also that Lord Rein will travel with us. He is a friend to my father," Merlin says.

Brennan shakes his head, no, when Cambina is mentioned. When Rein is mentioned, he says, "Ah, a shame for Amber. I met Lord Rein recently, and rather liked him. If I hurry, perhaps I can pen a note to him and see it delivered before he departs."

"So Jerod is going." Ossian says "I never managed to make a functioning Trump sketch of him; maybe he didn't want me to. Still the king wants one, so if you find time you might help me by making a sketch."

"I will, if he permits it," says Merlin. "I had hoped to make a Trump of him myself. I prefer to work with willing subjects, however."

"He might be willing to let you do it. Me and Jerod aren't exactly the best of friends." Ossian says without regret. "Ask him and he will cooperate. At least on the surface."

Merlin nods seriously.

[Brennan]
"But since you're leaving, Merlin, is there anything I can do for you while you're away? Do you think you will be inclined to come back and visit?"

"I cannot think of anything I require, thank you. I suspect I will return to visit Martin and Paige, but my father hopes that I will reside in Paris. I am told that it is customary to take a Wanderjahr after walking the Pattern, but I am not certain I wish to do so at this time. Perhaps later, after things have ... settled," Merlin says with a half-frown.

"Even immortals grow old and die before things are... settled," Brennan says, wryly. "Don't be a stranger, Merlin. We remember your actions at the Fixed Point-- you have a welcome, here, and more."

"It is kind of you to say so," Merlin says. To Ossian, he adds, "Perhaps you and Reid and I can arrange things so we can travel easily between Paris and Amber. To ease our common studies, yes?"

Ossian's face splits into a grin: "Shouldn't be too hard. After all I've got your Trump here, and you've got Reid's. I will dedicate a few days very soon to painting more Trumps of myself, so you can have one. Do you want one too Brennan?

"If Trumps work from here to Paris?"

"I see no reason why they would not," Merlin says.

Ossian shrugs "I don't know how far away Paris is. Or the effects of the Pattern there."

Merlin's would seem more useful, since Brennan and Ossian will be based out of Amber, but, "I never turn down someone offering me a Trump. I haven't got any to exchange, though," he adds for fairness.

"I do not have any more of myself to exchange either," says Merlin. "I will have to remedy this."

Ossian smiles, but stays quiet.

[Brennan] turns to Ossian, "But I did wish to speak to Ossian about an Artist, if not about Art."

"Oh?" Ossian says, sounding surprised. He straightens and takes a deep breath. "Very well. Your father, I guess?"

"The very same," Brennan responds. "Fiona said last night that you had happened across some papers of my father. Uxmali, are they?"

"According to her they are." Ossian says "I wouldn't know, really. But you read Uxmali fluently, don't you?"

"I was born and raised there. It's a difficult language spoken. Written, it can be a nightmare of subjectivity. It is very much the sort of written language he enjoyed."

He speaks a long sentence or two in Uxmali, then, that contains more velar fricatives and africates, mixed with liquids and glides, than seems healthy to produce.

"I was never quite sure if he liked the sound of it spoken, though. And don't ask about the poetic ballads."

"Hm. We both want to know what's written in those papers. I provide the papers, you read them and tell me what's in there. Sounds like a deal to me."

"Indeed."

Merlin watches the exchange with some curiosity, but says nothing.

"Think about it. Take your time. It's the only deal I offer." Ossian says, smiling ever so slightly.

Brennan's not, but then, he's just not a smiley kind of a guy. He also probably thinks Ossian is being a boor, as he pauses just a beat to consider that.

Then Brennan shrugs, "So go get them. Let's see what you're dealing with."

"If Merlin wants to see them? Otherwise we'll take it when we're finished here." Ossian replies, still smiling slightly.

Brennan's already turned (or at the very least, turning) to Merlin by the time Ossian speaks. Brennan does not respond.

Merlin hesitates for a moment, and says to Ossian, "Please do bring them. I would be interested in seeing them."

Ossian furrows his brow, bites his upper lip, decides, and rises, starting to walk towards the door.

[Brennan] turns to Merlin, then, and asks, "That brings to mind something else I wanted to ask-- the Thari used in the Courts was a bit archaic, but I thought it would have been a bit more... specialized for the environment. Or was that just the useage for Oberon's funeral?"

Ossian stops on his way to the door, turns around, listening, and ends up leaning slightly against the wall. He seems to have postponed his departure for a few more minutes.

Merlin says, "I am not sure what you mean. Thari was one of the languages of Borel, but there were several others. Thari was only used among what you would call my family, although my mother was insistent that I not pick up any "slangy" usages, which she considered inappropriate. And it was not the only language we used. We also spoke Mabrahoring with many of the affines, for example."

He considers for a moment. "Those who attended the funeral would mostly be those who spoke Thari. Or perhaps they were communicating directly by sorcery, or by power of will."

"I see. Makes perfect sense."

Beat.

"So. How about that weather."

Merlin freezes.

Brennan cocks his head to the side, then nods to himself and says, "It's 'small talk,' Merlin. Since Ossian is interested in languages, and is good enough to go get all those papers for us, it would be rude to cut him out of that discussion. So, we make small talk to let him know we're going to wait until he comes back.

"It's good manners."

"The weather is the most iconic subject of small talk, as it affects everyone, and no one is bound to have a strong opinion. Of course, it is also considered slightly unimaginative." Ossian says with a grin "Then, if I may say so, the transition to small talk should preferably be made more smoothly than the current example." Ossian's tone is more teasing than insulting.

"On the other hand Brennan managed to tell me to get those papers in a way that I can't really refuse without losing my face. So I intend to get them now. If you still like to see them, Merlin." _I don't mind if you have a look at them, but you don't have to if you don't want to._

"That would be excellent, Ossian. Please do bring them," Merlin says.

Brennan makes no obvious reaction to this, other than to turn and wait for Ossian to keep his word.

Ossian leaves [to get the papers].

As the door closes behind Ossian, Merlin unfreezes and turns to look at Brennan. "What was that about?" he asks warily, and moves to sit down on his couch.

Brennan stares at the door as Ossian departs.

"That," he says, "Was two grown men behaving very, very badly. We shouldn't be putting you between us in our little squabble, and had I known it was going to get that annoying, I wouldn't have done so. I owe you one."

Brennan is displeased, but it's not only with Ossian. It's with himself, as well.

"But it made a convenient reason for him to leave, for a moment. I have a question I'd like to ask you, and I didn't want to ask it in front of Ossian. First, he might not know about it, and there's no point spreading gossip. Second... it's a sensitive issue even aside from the personal aspect."

Merlin gives him an inquiring look.

Assuming Merlin nods assent, doesn't shut him down, etc, in the interest of moving along right rapidly, he continues, "There is a strong and persistant rumor that you had something of an encounter when you Walked in Paris. It was curiosity," he underemphasizes, "but given last night, it may be extremely important here, as well."

"Strong and persistent?" says Merlin. He seems a bit annoyed. "I was not aware that gossip traveled so quickly."

"Well, strong anyway," [Brennan] amends. [Player mispoke.]

He continues, "It is true that someone seems to have attacked me on the Pattern. It was someone with a strong resemblance to Benedict, save that it could not have been he. Benedict is maimed, having lost one arm. My--assailant--had two."

Brennan nods. "This is what I had by rumor, more or less, and it's remarkably ungarbled. But... 'seems'? Someone seems to have attacked you? Do you think they were trying to draw blood, or simply prevent you? Any firsthand details could help."

And now, with Brennan giving him a significant look, he'll probably understand even more why Brennan preferred Ossian out of the room. (And only the Unicorn can help him if he's eavesdropping.)

Merlin says, "I wonder whether it was a phantom of my own mind. But if it was what it seems to have been, yes, this person would have forced me from the path, so that I burned and perished." He swallows once.

Brennan blinks, and looks at Merlin for a long moment. "The version I had," he says carefully, "had it that Corwin intervened for you. Is my version wrong?"

"No," says Merlin, with a set to his jaw.

This is going to be one of those days just littered with Brennan staring at people at odd intervals, isn't it?

There are a host of really obvious things for Brennan to say or ask, right now. They're so obvious that Merlin has no doubt thought of them also. So he lets it pass, since time is tight before Ossian comes back anyway.

"Interesting," he says.

"Assuming it was real, though, I still wonder at the motive. If it was just trying to push you from the Pattern, that's murder. If it was trying to pierce you, that's... something else, all together."

"I think--it was the former, not the latter. I think," says Merlin.

There goes the eyebrow.

[Merlin] changes the subject. "What do the knights propose to do about Aisling?"

"I'll burn that bridge when I cross it, in about fifteen minutes," [Brennan] says. "I'll declare victory for the morning if I can get everyone on the same page, admitting the problem and the nature of the problem."

Merlin considers that for a moment, and says, "And you consider that to be ...?"

Brennan pauses a moment to gather his thoughts before expressing them.

"For openers? That there's almost no way to prove that Aisling didn't help her cousin try to murder us all-- directly or indirectly. And that Martin may have a temper, but he's not an idiot.

"Not that I believe she did. She could have done a much better job herself on the way back from Chaos, if she'd put her mind to it. Or at least tried. But Martin, and a lot of others, just didn't see that.

"Any advice? Observations?"

"Advice for dealing with Aisling?" Merlin shrugs. "None useful. But I do not much care for Madoc's get, nor do I find it unlikely that its reports are now in my mother's hands. You understand that I am a likely candidate for the role of second in this duel?"

It's only half a question, and he pauses to gauge Brennan's reaction before continuing.

The response, then, is an affiramtive-style shrug.

"This I do know: Martin had no intention of challenging Aisling before he returned to Amber. I was with him and we discussed Aisling during that time. I related to him the story of my own encounter with it before my father and I left for Paris."

Merlin's eyes narrow a little as he relates the next portion of his tale. "It came to me after the Return, under the pretext of friendship. It pumped me for information about my family: Dara, Madoc, Clarissa." He does not seem to expect that tidbit to surprise Brennan.

It does not.

"It suggested to me that my orderly kin need not know of how spawning happens beyond Ygg, or how power is consumed--as happened to the guard Whistle. As if Bleys and Fiona do not know this thing, or Martin, or perhaps you, even." And he looks at Brennan to see whether his guess is correct.

Brennan waggles his eyebrows slightly, by way of preliminary answer. I bet Bleys does that, too.

"We discussed this thing, and agreed that Aisling's conduct should be watched, for we had no proof that it had done anything wrong, even though this attempt to induce me to lie was worrisome. I believe that something happened between our arrival in Amber and the coronation masquerade to convince him that Aisling was false, or was still spying."

Merlin smiles, a little flatly. "I wish I were surprised."

"If you find out what that thing is, I would be grateful to know. I guess I should point out that even though the list hasn't been drawn up for Aisling's seconds, it wouldn't surprise me if I were on it, though probably not at the top."

"I would consider declining the honor, were I you. The position of Aisling's second could require you to develop the habit of early rising, if the social graces it has demonstrated so far are typical of its behavior." Merlin's smile is even thinner and flatter than it was before.

"As for what Aisling has done to merit Martin's ire, I will certainly keep it in mind. However, I may not be in Amber when he returns. Perhaps you should consider asking him yourself."

"You're not the first person to make either observation," Brennan notes wryly.

"Regarding the creation of children, though... I know some, but not all. But a question has been nagging me on the subject: How much control or influence does a parent have on the personality of its offspring? Even as a template. Is it conceivable that Madoc created a spy by creating an incurably curious being?"

Merlin looks disconcerted. "It is not inconceivable. Madoc is a powerful and--" he fishes for a word "--hyper-self-willed being. Reproduction is complex and I know only the general outlines of the theory; it was presumed I would reproduce when the time came after the orderly fashion." He makes a bit of a face. "Madoc could also have shaped Aisling by sorcery."

Brennan nods. "It woudln't make the situation any less dangerous," he muses to himself. "Perhaps only moreso."

It's at about this time that Brennan and Merlin hear Ossian's returning footsteps.

Brennan hears the footsteps and looks to Merlin. "Thank you, Merlin. I owe you one. Keep in touch." He might like to say more, but there isn't really time and this is probably not the place. But there is long enough to give Merlin one last appraising look, measuring the young man now against the boy he had seemed just a few weeks ago. A bit more confident. A bit more sure. More character.

He nods to himself, just slightly, in approval.

"I shall," says Merlin.

And the door opens to reveal Ossian.

[Ossian] return with the papers in a few minutes.

Merlin clears the low table in his sitting room for Ossian to spread the papers out on. Brennan sits down and starts to examine them. The writing is clearly Uxmali, and the hand is clearly Brand's, but it seems to Brennan to be in code. The papers will take some time and study to read.

"What do you think?" [Ossian] asks Brennan.

Brennan looks at the papers for a moment like they are a bad joke. He frowns and picks one up for closer examination and literally rotates it clockwise, a quarter turn, four times.

Somewhere in there, his expression changes from a sneer to a deep, deep scowl. "Even in death, he's a son of a...." he mutters to himself. "I think it's definitely Uxmali. I know it's Brand's hand. I think it's going to take a lot of time to get through this, though. Do either of you know anything about Uxmali?"

"Not I," says Merlin.

"Sorry." Ossian says. "Uxmal was one of the items Brand never told me about." There is an edge of bitterness or sorrow in his voice. (This time the edge is not directed at Brennan.)

If Brennan has any feeling's of schaadenfreude, he keeps it to himself. More likely, he's lost in abstract contemplation of the papers.

And does Merlin have something to draw on, preferably an easel and paint or chalk or some such?

Merlin fetches a large pad of paper and some charcoals.

"If this will take long," Merlin says, "I must finish packing while you work. My father wants to leave for Paris as soon as possible."

Ossian stays quiet, probably waiting for Brennan to respond.

"It won't take long to explain why this is not something I will finish tonight," Brennan say as he absently picks up the papers. He pages through looking for a likely enough symbol to start with, then takes the chalk and draws it carefully on the pad.

He first holds the chalk like you'd hold an engraving tool, reflexively, then consciously shifts the grip to something more reasonable. He leafs through more pages, frowning and scowling, as he locates symbols that will demonstrate what he wants them to demonstrate. He draws them in a line across the top of the page, just a handful of them, as distinct symbols.

They're clearly runic of glyphic in nature, but complex and many-lined. Brennan looks like he'd really rather have something like a calligraphy pen, but he adapts quickly.

Then he draws the first symbol again, larger, at the center of the page. "Dreamer," he mutters, "or perhaps artist. Hard to tell." He draws the second and the third symbols now, both connected to the first, at roughly the same scale. They're connected to the first, but not to each other. There is clearly space for more to be connected to it, and there is clearly room between the second and third for another, perhaps touching all three.

Ossian and Merlin can probably both see that there is a careful craft to this. The symbols don't fit together accidentally... but it doesn't look like that's the only way they could be fit together, either, just from a geometric standpoint.

"This," Brennan says, when he completes it, "is the crude beginning of an Uxmali ideoglyph. They can get rather large and complex. This," he says gesturing at the row of symbols above it, "is what I believe he's done. Uxmali is not written this way, linearly and disjoint. The number of ways he had to decompose the symbols, and the number of ways to stitch them back together...."

Ossian follows Brennan's scribbling with interest.

Brennan sighs.

"I don't even see antyhing obvious that he used for punctuation, yet. I will have to consult with Fi on this, since she spoke of it earlier. It's the sort of puzzle she might enjoy. It's a good thing my Uxmali is still strong."

"It is a sorcerer's puzzle," Merlin agrees. "I will be interested in seeing the results of your labors when they are complete." He actually sounds like he means it this time.

"If there is anything I can do to help you, please ask me." Ossian says. "Although I can't really think of any way I might help you. As for punctuation, it could be written in some kind of verse meter, entirely without punctuation. I wouldn't look for rhymes, though; when I met him he didn't like those. Maybe alliteration.

"Well, if rhymes or verse or things like that make sense in Uxmali?" Ossian adds as an afterthought.

Brennan looks as though he's going to deliver a mini-dissertation on the analogous concepts, because only an Uxmali native speaker would have a cogent opinion on the alliterative power of the glottal stop, or the rhyming properties of a sub-nasal slide... then stops himself.

For all that he's tried to divorce himself from his Uxmali upbringing, he still likes languages. And Uxmali certainly counts as an exotic.

Instead: "I will let you know if anything comes to mind." He tucks the papers away. Like Merlin, he sounds like he means it this time.

When the door closes behind them and they get a few meters away from Merlin's room, Ossian asks: "Do you know what's between them? Aisling and Merlin, I mean. Their distrust seems to be mutual."

"Not entirely, no. If I knew, this would be much less of a mess than it is."

"I understand a trump sketch of Aisling was used for something. Trump contacts can be rather intimate. Maybe one of them did something then..."

"Merlin and Aisling were chiefly responsible for getting us the first leg of the journey home from Chaos. Aisling was already Dame Aisling at that point-- as far as I'm concerned, she's earned her Knight Commandership twice.

"I believe a Trump of Aisling was used in the effort, but I had other responsibilities at the time."

"Hm. I'll probably have to ask one of them what the problem is. I don't look forward to doing that, though." Ossian says with a shrug.

Brennan snorts. "Ask both."