Still musing on Lady Alice's comments, Celina tops the staircase and turns into the hallway back to her room. Only then realizing she's turned around somehow and that this hallways isn't long enough to be the one she wants.
Thinking a moment through the turns she's taken, she moves along deciding to find her way by dead-reckoning. Passing down the hall, the tall windows at right overlook the city. The next moment, Celina is startled to find one of the window alcoves has Duke Jerod standing in it. Her start sends a ripple of sound through the metal-bead gown she is wearing. "Oh, good morning, your grace." She stops. "Actually, you asked me not to do that. Good morning, nephew. Little starfish, it startled me to see you there so silent, so alone."
"Good morning Auntie." Jerod says, picking up on the sound of her gown from a distance as he stood watching the bustle of the city outside. It reminded him as she approached of how things would be different below when he returned. Smells, sounds, colours. And people. Part of him wondered how they would have changed. He hopes one of them has not.
She steps closer, looking through the same window. "Is there some trouble?"
"No, nothing wrong." Jerod says, turning from his musing a little. "I'm just curious as to what is happening outside. I like to watch from a distance and see how people go about their business. Mother taught me that reading a group is as important as reading an individual. You can tell what's happening by how they walk, the sounds of their voices over a great distance. There's a tone that tells you when things are right or wrong.
"The tone here is vibrant. People bustle with enthusiasm, as opposed to tension. You can hear happy voices even when the street vendors argue. Possibilities fill the air at every turn." he says, looking at her. "I wonder what kind of tone I will hear when I return home."
Leaning forward, Celina puts a finger-tip on the glass. This is something dwellers of the deeps recognize, using a hard object to sense vibrations from far away. "Yes." She looks at him again. "You can guess I did not grow up in Rebma from what I spoke of last night. To me, Rebma is like this: vibrant, bustling, with people eager to be about business. But I've proven to be a poor observer, haven't I?" She lifts her chin, some part of her pained to say it out loud.
"Have you?" Jerod asks. "I think sometimes we see what we want to see, but that doesn't mean it's not there. I tend to see only the politics of others. Their plans and schemes, what drives them. Others don't. Does that mean the politics is not there? Maybe, maybe not."
An interesting response. It makes me no less blind, but offers that some blindness might be advantage. Celina wrinkles her nose with thought.
"If I get the chance, I'll introduce you to a woman named Folly. One of your cousins in Amber. She is more likely to see the good in others, though she doesn't discount everything else that's there too. Some might ignore her opinions because of that, because they focus only on what she might say and not what she has really seen but chooses not to harp on."
Chuckling, Celina inclines her head. "I will look forward to this meeting. And will not make overmuch of my vision." She leans forward and exhales on the glass, forming the lightest of films around her finger. Then she sketches a Trident. Both the glass-fog and the mark vanish quickly. "Those who serve." Celina hesitates. "When you return to Rebma, you should know there is something wrong there. As an outsider, I don't know what it might be. But those who serve seem to be of two minds. One firmly behind the throne, one that is angry."
Jerod frowns as he listens, his expression that implies he has heard something confirmed that he does not like, and had wished otherwise.
"Which explains why Moire cannot protect you. It would seem that Rebma was scarred from the war like Amber, only in a different way." he says finally, reaching out with his hand to wipe away at the vanished fog-image, looking at the glass expressionlessly.
"Just in case." he says.
"Bill Roth mentioned Atrios. Which side is he on? Bill also said something about an attack."
For the first time, something about the attack hits Celina. Three. Any single triton of eight hundred pounds of muscle could thrash me like a rag doll. Someone sent three of them. What makes me that dangerous? Orseas overpowered by one, perhaps two. One to deal with me.
Celina shifts, leaning against the side of the alcove. "Atrios stepped in to stop the attack on me." Celina is delighted to find that her heart does not hammer away in her chest. "Three tritons tried to take me with them, or just rough me up." She smiles at the understatment.
"The same thing happened to Conner." Jerod says. "Only I suspect for different reasons. It's a safe bet that someone might have an inkling as to your background."
"As you pointed out last night..." Celina stands up straight and shifts her balance to a ready stance. "There may be a traitor in Moire's court. I've been thinking about it and that is another thing that would be invisible to me at my experience. If you end up having theories on it after you come back from Rebma..." she smiles, "I'd be vastly entertained to hear them."
"Assuming I make it back. I'll need to know who currently comprises the Queen's Court. Also, why did Atrios intervene?" Jerod asks, continuing as way of explanation.
Celina looks as thought she might speak, but Jerod moves along quickly.
"Since you indicated that he prevented the attack, that indicates that he was not already there to defend you. But given your background, Moire would not have neglected to provide you with protection. Atrios would have been a good choice for you. He is the strongest and the oldest of them. But he was Martin's protector as well. Giving him to you would either bring too much notice to you...or else she could not enforce his cooperation."
"This puzzles me so much. Enforced cooperation." She shivers. "Well, Orseas was the triton assigned to keep me out of trouble. He wasn't an old hand like Atrios. The court of Moire is not changed that I know. Valeria is in Amber. Rilsa and Loreena are her closest advisors. Llewella missing.
"Then there are the secondary faces, Carina in archives, Lamell, Drusilla, a few others. None are really kept up with things as Rilsa is."
Jerod nods, his mood shifting subtly when one of the names is mentioned. "Lamell I can understand. Drusilla as well. But back to Atrios. Is there any indication as to why he intervened?"
Celina looks at Jerod and licks her lips. "He was not happy with the other tritons. He wouldn't say anything that made sense. The watch arrived and he quickly left."
The girl moves away from Jerod and walks to the opposite wall of the hallway. She turns and comes back to him with a harder expression on her face. "Jerod. He said I had to leave Rebma. That I wasn't safe there." She seems to have some trouble with this. Her face is tight now with high emotion. "He said I must leave. Go. And return. And he said, 'You are our hope. Go. Learn. Return.' He left right after that."
"And then later, when I told Moire what had happened, she agreed with Atrios and made me head of the Paris delegation that Loreena had deicded she could not lead." Celina moves her shoulders to loosen the tension. "I didn't care for any of it. Everything around me being wrong."
Celina smiles, but it is a thin expression at best.
Jerod listens and broods. Something about what she says seems to hit a nerve, something he has previously considered. But for now, all he can do is consider.
"I now wonder more and more about the binding of the Tritons, and how much of it is tied to the Pattern." Jerod says finally. "And Moins' heritage. There are good and bad points to being right in these circumstances. I will need to seek out Atrios when I arrive. I must know the other side of the coin."
After a moment, he shakes himself, running a hand through his long hair. Like a ritual, it seems to free something inside and he settles a new face into place, one without the brooding of the moment past. Or is it a new face?
"I think that is enough for now." Jerod says. "I have no other questions at the situation there, though I'm wondering if you could give me some details concerning someone. You mentioned the Lady Carina, that she is in the archives still. Can you say how she fares?"
Jerod is still wearing the marina necklace, Celina will note.
"She fares well, for all I know," Celina responds quickly but with gentleness. "I like her. She was helpful to me when I got to Rebma. She made things easier for me. And I think we were becoming friends."
Jerod nods, his thoughts wandering for an instant as he smiles, mostly to himself. It is different from his other smiles, Celina realizes. It is the kind of expression that is reserved for someone very special.
"She is good to have as a friend." Jerod says, coming back from his reverie. "I will be sure to convey to her that you are well here."
"I'd rather you just told her that I'm settling in. I've never lied to her." Celina doesn't mean to sound stiff, but it comes out that way.
"I suspect she would understand my intent." Jerod says. "From my perspective though, I think you're doing fairly well. You have more information, you're not dead and you're now seeing things a bit differently instead of being deceived." and he smiles. "Perhaps that makes me a hopeless optimist."
The Seaward lass stares at Jerod for a second, then burst out laughing. She has a sweet tone to her laughter and ends up putting a hand briefly over her mouth. "You cuttlefish! You did that on purpose to break my mood." She steps closer to him and puts a hand on his shoulder. Her eyes gleam with mirth yet. "I should--." She stops. Then gently removes her hand and steps back. She rubs her palms together. "Thank you. Nephew. Yes. Please give Carina my regards." Her smile might be an apology for her physical familiarity.
If Jerod appears to be disturbed by close proximity, there is nothing to indicate it. If anything, he seems quite comfortable with himself and her closeness.
"I will do so Auntie. I'm sure she'll be glad to hear it." he says, glancing at the window, the position of the sun.
"Is there anything I can do for you? I've a meeting with Merlin and will need to depart shortly."
"No." She says softly. "I'm fine, sir knight. You go off and enjoy my brother's unique ways." She gestures at the hallway. "I'm going to look for Vere." And suiting actions to words, she leavse him there.
"Sir knight?" Jerod says after she departs. "Definitely going to have to correct that misconception."
And he also departs, enroute to Merlin and his experiment.
Jerod departs from the castle [the day] after Vere's Pattern walk, collecting a horse from the stables to make his way outside the city, having left a note for Merlin, written after he had chosen his mount.
Cousin...
I look forward to our discussion concerning sorcery as we had previously agreed. I will be outside the city, eastward, with a chocolate mare close by. Until then...
Jerod.
Once outside the city, Jerod finds a quiet, relatively isolated location from which he can watch the city but not have to worry too much about interference from locals who might get spooked by sorcery getting tossed around. He finds a comfortable place to sit and relax, and opens himself up to his senses.
If he's right, Merlin might try something sorcerous either to find him quickly or perhaps to physically get here sooner. The possibility that Merlin is smarting over last night means he just might want to establish some kind of dominance over Jerod - the use of power is a good way to do that, Jerod thinks to himself. It will be good to see if he can detect that as well and he smiles while waiting.
Jerod is probably both pleased and annoyed when there's a tingle in his mind that forms into a questioning thought, seeking admission. Although he has never before sensed one, it is, he is quite certain from the descriptions he has heard, a trump call.
Assuming Merlin is the one with the trump sketch, he's faster at drawing than Jerod had suspected. If it's not him, then he's wondering who it might be. Either way, this bears investigation.
He accepts the call.
It is, indeed, Merlin. "Cousin," he says. "I am pleased to report that my sketch is true. May I come through?"
Merlin is dressed in black, in a style that Flora might describe as Edwardian. It is the fashion of Paris.
Jerod offers his hand. "Certainly. Come through."
First, Merlin hands through a large leather satchel. It's heavy, and clearly contains some gear. Afterwards, he steps through. When he arrives, he has a large, heavy sheet of paper in hand. It contains a sketch of Jerod in oil pastels. If Jerod wishes to examine it, Merlin hands it to him.
Jerod is always curious, even with dangerous devices...:). He takes care to examine the sketch made (such as Merlin's style of artistry) along with anything else that might come to mind from Reid's trump lessons before he hands it back.
There's something strange about Merlin's drawings, perhaps a wrong take on perspective. It's difficult for Jerod to say. But the sketch is very recognizably Jerod.
Or an alien perspective? :)
(not expecting an answer)
Afterwards, Merlin snaps open the satchel and fetches out a long tube, rolling up the sketch and placing it within. He then stops the tube and puts it back in the satchel.
"I am ready. Did you have some specific sorceries you would like to test yourself against, or should I improvise?"
"Improvise." Jerod says. "I am uncertain if there is some kind thread to sorcery so I would not know where to start."
"Sorcery violates natural principles of order, as I believe I have already explained." Merlin takes on a bit of a didactic tone. "The common thread is paradox. Order operates by the manipulation of possibility to create a desired result. Sorcery is not ordered. It does the impossible to achieve the desired result. What is your favorite drink, Jerod, that you were enjoying last night?"
"The one last night? A whisky, made from a grain called rye." Jerod says. "I knew your father would have the makings of it. My dad drank something similar on occasion, though he wouldn't admit it publically. It contains a root called ginger. You infuse the flavor into mineral water then add it to the whisky."
"Why do you ask?" Jerod is now very curious. It's a side of his personality that very few get to see.
Merlin has begun to draw some things out of the satchel. Jerod isn't sure what they're for, and he doesn't recall Merlin needing such things to call the fire at Ygg.
But if Jerod recalls, Ygg didn't sit on top of a Pattern. He keeps his senses open.
"I was wondering," says Merlin. "It was an unusual behavior, to go and find the hidden drink in someone's home that way. It suggested a particular knowledge of my father that I did not expect you to have. That he was that like his late brother surprises me, and yet surprises me not at all."
He continues to examine the contents of the satchel, pulling some things out and replacing others in the satchel.
"Your father and mine were closer in their behaviour than either would admit. It's why they clashed. Had either of them been like...Gerard, or Caine...there would have been no problem."
"Except with Caine," Merlin opines.
Jerod nods. "You said it surprised you, and yet it didn't. Does it bother you? That I would know something like that about your father, yet I've probably known him less than you have?"
Merlin frowns, as if he's concentrating a bit. "I met him once when I was a youth. He killed my companion, and I almost shot him with my crossbow. The next time I saw him was after the battle. He told me quite a bit of his story, but I cannot honestly say I know him well."
[Jerod] leans over a bit. "What's all this?"
"For longer rituals, particularly those where I am improvising, I like to have different tools to hand. Some are symbolically useful. Others are consumed in the powering of the spell. For shorter sorceries, particularly those where the preparation is a moment's worth, normally only gestures and words are useful. However, it is possible to do without any of the parts of a spell if you are a successful improvisational sorcerer."
Something is happening that makes the back of Jerod's teeth itch. It's just wrong. He's not quite sure what it is.
A moment later, Merlin produces a bottle from the bag. "Your whiskey, I believe, cousin. Tell me whether I got the right bottle." He hands his acquisition to Jerod for examination.
Jerod's expression narrows as he feels...whatever...? Unconsciously his right hand stretches, the fingers straightening in an automatic fighting reaction, removing kinks and knocks in preparation for combat. But nothing more happens as he remembers this feeling, and how wrong it senses to him.
[It's a bottle of fine single-malt that Jerod recalls sitting next to the one he borrowed from.]
He takes the bottle from Merlin slowly, turning it in his hand. "Close." he says. "A good bottle, but not the one I used last night. This is one I would select to drink myself. It would not have been suitable for the drink I gave to your sister however. This one sat beside the one I selected from."
He hands the bottle back. "I just felt something. Something wrong. Inherently wrong. Was that you, using sorcery?"
"I tore open space inside the bag, and reached into the cabinet," Merlin confirms. "This way, you could not see what I was doing and had to use your other senses to detect it. 'Wrong' is not the way I would describe what it felt like to me, but I performed the act, and my training is in Chaos rather than the ways of Order."
He pulls two glasses out of the satchel. "Shall we?"
Jerod smiles. "Why not." he says, taking one glass and pouring a generous dose for both of them. "Cheers."
Merlin takes his glass and drinks. From the sudden pinched expression on his face and the pucker of his mouth, it is clear to Jerod that the young man has never had such a drink before, much less acquired the taste for it.
Jerod smiles a little. "Some water will help with that." he says.
He thinks for a moment on what Merlin has said before proceeding. "So I could presume that your Chaos influence in this tearing of space was what I felt? And it felt wrong to me because I am so used to the Pattern and to the impact of Order?"
"That could be," Merlin says. "Martin had trouble sensing it, but he was also often beyond Ygg. He worried that it--distorted his senses. Also, since it was clear he could not sense sorcery as well as I, nor could he do so without effort, he left it to my Third Eye to see sorcery when it was necessary. I can see tendrils of power, even if they are quiescent. Martin could only vaguely sense powerful sorceries when they were active."
And another question comes up which [Jerod] adds quickly. "And how would someone control this tearing? Wouldn't it risk damaging the reality of space around it? It sounds like it could be an efficient use of energy but one frought with risk if you're not absolutely precise."
"Controlling it is very important, yes." Merlin hands his glass to Jerod and reaches into the satchel again. This time he comes out with a piece of string. "Observe," he says.
He takes the string between the index fingers and thumbs of each hand and pulls it taut. "My two hands are two places known to me. The sorcery I used does this." And he brings his hands together so that his index fingers and thumbs touch, with a loop of string hanging loose between them.
"The trick of the thing is knowing the two places. I prepared for the attempt by examining the cabinet to memorize its interior for this sorcery. How to control it is not something I could explain trivially to a non-sorcerer."
He adds: "I find it more difficult to perform such sorceries here than I did in Amber. This suggests to me that Order, or Reality as you call it, is inimical to sorcery."
Jerod nods. "Which would make sense. Amber's Pattern is no more. The ability to affect reality is usable there now. Order imposes structure and it would seem that sorcery achieves defineable results by defying reality's structure."
"Not entirely. It is a matter of paradox," Merlin explains.
"So it is safe to assume that for sorcery to be effective you must have a clear idea of what you are dealing with. An object, a location. What about if you have no clear of a location? Could you visualize a place that you have never been to, and find it's equivalent? I can do that when I travel."
"No, It is different from Pattern in that respect. But here we discuss only the principle of Space. Other principles work differently. It is easier to use sorcery when you have the correct principle for the application at hand. For finding you and joining you, the Trump was easier than any principle of sorcery. So I used that. A master sorcerer should always be flexible." Merlin's final sentence sounds axiomatic.
"What would you define as some of these principles?" Jerod asks, thinking back. "By the way, the water was two bottles to the right of this bottle in your father's cabinet."
"I would rather not; it seems like too much effort for too little return. Perhaps you have water in your saddlebag?" Merlin suggests.
He continues answering Jerod's question. "There are a number of principles: time, space, integrity, energy, mass, entropy. That is not an exhaustive list, and I am not sure I could produce one."
"But it fits the general parameters I would have expected." Jerod says, making note of Merlin's comments concerning the water as he collects a canteen. He measures a good dose for Merlin, thinning the scotch enough to allow it still have a good flavor but removing some of the "harshness".
"Thank you," Merlin says, and tries the scotch again. He rolls it around on his tongue, considering the taste, as Jerod continues speaking.
"A pity I do not have more time to study sorcery. It is a subject that becomes more fascinating with each day."
"You will live long. Surely you will have time to learn it in the future," Merlin says, dismissing that concern.
[Jerod]
"Depending on the future."
Another sip of the scotch, and [Merlin] asks, "Shall I try another sorcery? What would you like for me to attempt now? Something more ritualistic in nature, so you can see how it is done?"
"If you could, that would be good. After which I have one more experiment to try today." Jerod says.
"Let us see the future, then." And Merlin begins to remove things from the satchel. He sets up a number of objects in ways that make no sense to Jerod, chanting softly in a language that Jerod doesn't understand. One of them is a long piece of string, which Merlin attaches to a pencil.
Merlin begins to draw on a sketchpad he brought with him. If Jerod has ever seen anything like automatic drawing or writing, it's very like the trance state people believe they fall into to do such things. Jerod can feel the power rising, the itching in his teeth of the sort he felt before. It's like the taste of aluminum foil in the back of his mouth, but not so appetizing.
After about a minute of the pencil scratching across the page, there's a sudden rise in power, as if someone ran a charge through Merlin and Jerod all at once. The string arcs up into the air, as if under its own power, and shreds in a red flare. Merlin's hand jerks, driving the pencil into the paper, ripping several sheets and snapping the lead.
Merlin sits there twitching, apparently unseeing, and otherwise unmoving. The feeling of wrongness has suddenly stopped.
"Merlin." Jerod says after a moment, watching him carefully. "Merlin..." he says again, shifting his position a bit to brace himself, before tapping the edge of the paper that Merlin is holding, to see if that enters into his awareness. He is careful not to touch Merlin - he does not know what that might do to him (or to himself) and since Merlin does not appear to be physically injured, there is no reason to rush.
For the moment that is...
If after doing so Merlin does not return from wherever he is, Jerod will then reach out to touch. He's going to be ready for some kind of counter-attack or blind striking reaction on Merlin's part, including anything shifting related, remembering his efforts against the Chaos hordes on Kolvir. He's not looking to hurt anyone, but he's not getting hurt either if he can help it.
Merlin shudders slightly when Jerod touches him. It takes him a moment to look up at Jerod. His eyes are wide, and he's breathing hard. "That was not supposed to happen," he says altogether too quickly, looking at the ruin of his sketch.
"Something in the future is blocking my ability to scry forward. Something has changed, because I was able to do it in Amber. I saw Paige's children, and that was a year ahead for her, I think. Now I cannot go that far." Merlin's voice is a little higher-pitched than normal, and he's still speaking too fast.
"What were you trying to scry?" Jerod asks. "Would the proximity of your father's pattern prevent it?"
"No, I do not think so," Merlin says, clearly to the second question. "Sorcery is more difficult here, but not impossible. I was trying to determine how long it would be until you and Vere left for Rebma. I tried to go ahead a month, but I was blocked." His speech is beginning to slow to its normal pace.
"Were you doing something to block me?"
"No." Jerod says. "I had considered such a thing but had not instituted it. I had thought to summon the Pattern's image, to use as a shield against the sorcery but had decided to wait for a moment. I've done it before and it seemed to work against the effects of the Black Road. I wanted as well to test to see if I could summon your father's Pattern image, and Amber's as well. Despite their power, they are different images."
"When you scryed for Paige, had you already walked your father's Pattern by that time?" Jerod asks curiously. "I'm also wondering if walking your father's pattern might not have done something. I'm probably one of a few individuals who has walked more than one Pattern, but most of those people would have walked Rebma, Tir or Amber's."
"No, the scrying was before. But I have performed a number of minor sorceries since then--you saw the light last night, and the bottle of whiskey just now," Merlin says. "None of those have been disrupted in this way." He still sounds a bit shaken.
"What did you see when it happened?" he asks Jerod.
Jerod describes what he saw and felt, making mention of the pencil's strange movements, the feeling as if of an energy discharge and Merlin's blank expression.
"Do you wish to try again?" Jerod asks. "What did you feel while you were doing it?"
"I was making the sorcery normally, letting the power flow through my matter as a vessel, and then there was a--a cutting-off of the power. I have never felt anything quite like it. The shredded string is wrong. It symbolizes the drawing together of time, the way I showed you with space, yes? When it broke, that was an effect of whatever I encountered."
"Curious. As if something, or someone, didn't like you looking." Jerod says.
Merlin considers the other question. "I think," he says after a moment, "that I might try another sorcery, one going back in time. To see if the effect is only in the future, or also in the past."
"Then when you are ready, let us proceed." Jerod replies. "Is there anything that I should do?"
"Merely observe, and do not interfere. Particularly, do not call to mind the Pattern as if to use it," Merlin says.
He prepares by tearing off the ripped pages of his sketchpad and tying a new piece of string to his pencil. After a time, the sense of wrongness returns, and Jerod notes that Merlin is sketching with that vacant look in his eyes again.
This time Merlin takes longer to complete his sketch. After several minutes, he puts his pencil down, and looks at what he has drawn. It's clear to Jerod from Merlin's expression that he had no idea what he would get when he started drawing.
The sketch is of the area Merlin and Jerod are sitting in; it is snowy and several people are tramping across the field. If the depiction is accurate, they are walking towards Paris. "I could go back further," Merlin says, "but it would take a long time for me to cast the spell."
"It would seem that your initial theory has been borne out however. You can at least go backwards without interference. One remaining thing to do would be to attempt to scry forward for someone other than myself. That might further define the limitations if you're inhibited going forward for all people, or just me."
"Do you get any sense of recognition of these people?" Jerod asks, noting the people in the sketch. "I'm curious as to how long ago this was. Given the time differential between Amber and the battle, I'm wondering if the same differential exists here in regards to Chaos."
"I looked back a season. It is spring here, roughly the time of year as was in Amber, yes? So, this should be last winter," Merlin explains. "I do not know the people. Maybe we should ask. But my father says many people have come here recently, that the city is filling up."
He tears the drawing from the pad and hands it to Jerod. "If I am to try again, I should like to try again for Paige. I know her well, and I was able to scry for her before. And I have her Trump with me to act as a focus for the scrying--a sealed Trump, that is guaranteed to survive the spell."
"A sealed trump?" Jerod asks, accepting the sheet, looking at it for another moment to imprint the image in his mind before folding it. "We may wish to delay that scrying for now, though I would be curious as to how it goes. Her father might also have some insight into what happened."
"Sealed to make it permanent. The sketch that I made of you will lose its power after a time, and could be easily damaged."
Merlin draws out his box of Trumps and shuffles out Paige's card. It is a card just like the decks of the elders Jerod has seen before, and cool to the touch. Jerod can see as Merlin flips through the cards that he has one of Martin, and of his mother as well.
"I believe you are right about the scrying. I will wait and try it later."
"Good." Jerod says. "Cause it's time for lunch. Let's go get something. And we'll try something a bit softer than this." as he motions to the scotch.
Last modified: 2 January 2004