Week's End

Lilly looks at Marius. There is no anger in her eyes only a faint hint of amusement. She kept the silence wrapped around her, for now. If he wanted to speak with her further, he would.

Marius watches Brennan and Jovian leave with a vaguely amused look on his face.

He looks over the remnants of breakfast, fairly nonplussed. He smiles at Lilly. "I am not entirely sure what it is I should say to you to have you stomp out in a display of misplaced venom," he decides. "Perhaps I am wrong, and we shouldn't deal with traitors decisively." He sighs, and his smile looks strained for a moment. He shakes his head. "I think, in truth, that I am kinder than our Uncles." His smile is more sardonic now. He offers her a mock-toast with his coffee cup. "Or perhaps we don't know each other as well as we need."

She offers back a mock toast of her own and takes a sip of her coffee before responding, "I agree with you on most levels. Jovian's argument that she risked her life to get us home is not enough for me. I never trusted Aisling and I doubt there is anything that can be said or done to change that now. As for being kinder then our Uncles... Perhaps Caine shares your heart. I can see him wanting to take care of a threat in the quickest, easiest way possible."

Marius nods generously. "With the right evidence, perhaps I could be persuaded that Aisling is other than Chaos' creature, but my goodwill has been greatly strained." He finishes his coffee. "Brennan is correct in that I should forgive Jovian his temper...and maybe his love." His smile turns lazy for a moment as if he is restraining himself from adding something snarky to that sentence. He lets it rest after a moment. "As for our Uncle Caine, I could ask for no better comparison." That smile is at least self-depreciating.

Settling back a ghost of a smile comes to her lips, "As for making me storm out, I don't think there is anything you can say to make me do that. That's simply not how I handle things."

He smiles warmly. "I won't take it as a challenge." He pushes his empty cup away from him and stares at the table for a moment. "I don't believe we have any pleasant answers here, so I will take the opportunity to change the subject." He looks up at Lilly. "Do you love Paige?" he asks.

Lilly blinks. "Do I love her?" she asks sounding just the slightest bit confused, "That is an odd question. We are friends, good friends. She is one of the few I feel I can be truly open with here in Amber. If that is the love you speak of then the answer is yes."

Marius' smile deepens, but he does not interrupt as Lilly follows the thought to her own conclusions.

She shifts a bit uncomfortably in her chair. "However if you speak of something more, then I'm afraid I do not understand. Perhaps the culture you come from is different. Where I was raised those sorts of relationships simply did not exist between members of the same sex."

"What more there is of love none have been at pains to teach me," Marius decides after a moment's thought, discarding the, "I didn't ask you if you wanted to marry her," train of thought that had almost escaped. "I asked because in listening to you, I heard a fondness, an adoration that was pleasing to hear. I..." he laughs aloud. "I have dreams about her, you know. I did not mention them in our discussion last night, for they were of fancy and the weave of such dreams is loose at best." He takes a deep breath. "But if love creates such strong passions as would drive our fellow Knight-Commanders, I would know more of it, and I had hoped to recognize it in you." He smiles. "Perhaps I fear Jovian's weakness in his dealings with the Chaosian. I am pleased to see that neither of us will share it, and I expect we will both manage what must be done."

"I have found that there are times when sense can be overrun by emotion. This has even held true for me upon occasion. Normally though I recognize when that is happening and can then control it," Lilly says matter-of-factly.

Marius nods at this point and continues slightly during Lilly's short speech, but he has nothing to offer her in response save, perhaps, a strange sort of empathy. He knows sense can be overrun by emotion.

Thought overtakes her again momentarily as she sips at her coffee. Her eyes seem to meet nothing. As the last few drops are emptied, she moves the cup from her lips and quickly inspects it. What she expected to find on the inside of the mug was a mystery, even to herself. Softly she places the mug back on the table and pushes it gently away before turning her gaze to Marius once again.

"What do you think happened to her?" Lilly asks. There is a coldness in her tone that would suggest she speaks of Aisling.

Marius stretches in his chair before answering. He smiles and shrugs. "That depends on how far back you want to go. I am slowly wondering if I understand these Chaosian methods. I think, wherein life and memory or other aspects are edible, and it seems life is given form by will and desire, I begin to wonder if the firelilies are connected to this odd...reproduction, for lack of a better term. When Aisling spoke of its progenitor as father, I could not understand the connection as it did not seem to be one of...family, again, for lack of a better term." He sighs. "I wonder if Aisling truly ever had free will, or was formed purely for a task. Aisling had...fear. Fear as a motivation explains quite a bit of its actions. Maybe fear suggests free will?" He scratches his neck, thinking for a moment. "I wonder if its Knight will need to be... bound... bonded to something or someone else. I'm guessing on all of this, from bits and pieces, of course, but I still want to know if there is a connection there. A connection to Aisling, of course." He shrugs. "As for Aisling's current whereabouts? Aisling admitted after the revel that it was a traitor, either to us or to its origins. What was it you said? 'By your own words you are loyal to your father. Your father is a member of the Courts of Chaos.' We saw how easily Amber was penetrated. If something had a similar connection or access to the Chaosian, our Uncle's temporary holding place may have become a convenient web for an unpleasant spider. I think the safest assumption is to decide that all Aisling knows is known by enemies." He pauses. "At that meeting, Jovian spoke against any trappings of mistrust amongst us... but Aisling spoke of a spy of Borel's. We have not found that spy. The time of mistrust is not over."

"I agree," Lilly's replies, the words encompassing his full assessment. "Cloudeater, as Aisling affine is called, is an oddity I have yet to understand. I seem to lack the required references for such a thing. After I heard of Aisling's disappearance I questioned the affine. I know they have a strong connection. I know the affine serves Aisling because Aisling saved it's life. I also know it fears being here in Amber. It feels it needs Aisling's protection from everything. I could not get it to give me more precise answers. Again I felt as if I was lacking the correct frame of reference. I found the whole interview to be quite frustrating.

"I shall take that as a suggestion that another of us may wish to interview the Cloudeater," Marius suggests. "Perhaps it is karmic inevitability that I suggest Aisling's death and take on Aisling's responsibilities. At least, as much as I understand the expression of karma," he admits with a broad grin. "I think I will find an opportunity to make an inquiry." He pushes his chair back and gets ready to stand up.

[Lilly]
"Jovian is not a fool. I would truly like to believe that. He must know that nothing good can come of her disappearance. If she ran, then she is truly a traitor against Amber once again. If she was taken, you are more then likely correct in you estimation that she too was eaten. He has to know that. Eventually he will come to terms with her loss. I only hope he does so quickly."

He stands up. "I do not envy him his grief, but I know he has some control and responsibility over how he expresses his emotions, as do we all. My off-hand remark unintentionally struck true, and I would now put more gentility into it if I had the opportunity to correct that moment. I do not know how much farther we can track the more optimistic possibilities." He sighs, leaning on the table. "I see that we have wars on many fronts, and yes, we need to be united against them. The forest is a battlezone bringing ancient mistakes to light, our Kings have deserted us, one to go home, another to go...elsewhere, our enemies have stolen our kin right from beneath our noses, and have promised retaliation of a personal kind..." he grins, shaking his head. "Aisling is but a small pebble in this avalanche."

Lilly nods. "I believe both of our Kings have left to go home," she says. Her gut instincts told her Random had set out to fix the problem in the basement. The home of a King of Amber could only be where the pattern lay. He would either recreate their home here or find himself a new one. Either way she hoped the relatives remaining behind would not be forsaken.

"Home," Marius repeats, and he examines the word as if to see how he likes it. He pokes and prods at the thought for a moment, and then nods. "Funny," he says aloud. "Our Uncle," the word has the slightest tinge of irony to it, "Caine asked me what kept me in Amber. I said 'duty.' He said that Amber lives or dies on trade. I have a funny feeling that there will be an inadvertent play on that word. What would we trade for Aisling? For Amber? For Daeon?" He shakes his head. "I am musing aloud. When shall we Knights meet again, you think, as long as it isn't with knives?"

Lilly shrugs. "As a group, I don't know. Perhaps after Brennan returns. We should all have cooler heads by then and he may have important information to share." Her eyes find Marius's gaze for a moment and there is a flash of something. For a moment she seems much younger, much less secure. "We can meet whenever you wish however. I am certain we will be able to find things to discuss." The youth fades once again retreating deep within her heart where she can best protect it.

Brennan doesn't quite storm or stalk out of the room, but he leaves with enough momentum that by the time it winds down, he's already out of the immediate vicinity, but with no obvious location in mind.

He stops, lets out an explosive lungful of air, and considers the options briefly. He chooses the most unpleasant one, and follows the trail of pages, castle staff, and other people who look like they've just jumped out of the way of a scowling Knight Commander. Bonus points if they're still looking over their shoulders.

He deliberately keeps his temper just high enough to make his long strides even longer and faster.

The trail leads across the castle and out on the grounds, to an area around the side of the stables that the Guard use for training and drills. By the time Brennan gets there, Jovian has obtained a practice sword from the armory, his flight jacket and shirt are tossed on the ground a few feet away, and he is laying into a pell.

The dragonman's strength and ferocity are undeniable. His form is execrable. It would take quite some effort to make a fencer out of Jovian, but in a full-out melee he'd take an honor guard with him out of sheer implacable bloody-minded force. Now and then a low savage noise escapes his throat; somewhat more often chips of wood splinter away from the pell.

Upon drawing near, Brennan might notice that the blade of what had been a pretty good quality belt knife is broken off, its point buried about throat-high on the pell. The hilt and half the blade are on the ground.

Brennan eyes the knife, then says it anyway:

"Dress that thing up in a wavy wig and a sailor hat, if you want. Not going to fix anything."

Jovian takes a few more hard passes - to use the turn loosely - before bringing himself up to a halt and eyeing Brennan for a few breaths. It is not a particularly hostile stare. "No," he says at last, "but it burns off the adrenaline until I can think clearly."

"Consider making kindling before our meetings."

"Well, we're all still working out our expectations of each other, aren't we?" he responds in a drawl that suggests his father's influence is reasserting itself.

"That was my point."

"And mine was that I hadn't expected to need the recourse." [Jovian] turns to pick up his shirt. "Don't get all worried over dawn meetings," he adds, an afterthought. "I've forbidden my riders to duel, and I mean to lead by example."

"You go around fondling your belt knife like that," Brennan says, "and you might not get a choice. There's only so many times I'd let someone direct a display like that at me before I did something about it.

"Shove it, Brennan," the bronze rider responds conversationally, without real heat. "You above all understand the provocation. I stopped myself from taking him down right there," he adds, in a tone that considers it a worthy feat.

Neither Brennan nor his expression are as impressed with that as Jovian is.

...a fact with which Jovian is blisslessly unconcerned.

"Take it as given that Marius can be viciously blunt and has all the timing of a wristwatch in the Basement. Take it as given that ordering the Knights to execute a Knight-Commander on sight is a profoundly bad idea."

Brennan holds up a hear-me-out hand. "But you have to know me well enough by now to know I've at least run the possibilities. Caine gave her rope and I watched her climb right up on the gallows. And between me, Marius, and Lilly, you had to know the topic was going to come up, even if it got shot down.

"If you want to be an advocate -- or even if you don't -- fine. But you need to get your head in a place where you can deal with the subject, and even with Marius, without losing it. We're already down two, Jovian. We need you in there, not in here beating the crap out of a dummy."

"You didn't need me in there right then, brother."

"Yeah, actually, I did. We all did. We don't need to splinter at all, and we damn well don't need to splinter over something like this."

"So I'm the bad guy for taking offense at his offhandedly insisting on killing one of us. Got it."

That comment, unworthy of Jovian, earns nothing but a withering glance.

[Jovian] pauses, breathes, consciously and visibly turns down the heat.

"Not that it matters," he continues quietly, resigned, sinking into a tailor's seat on top of his jacket and looking far away. "I'm sure she's already dead."

"Well, you're more confident than I am. I'll say it again, you need to get your head in a place where you can deal with the subject, or people are going to stop asking your opinion. And you need to do it whether she's dead or not-- if she's alive, then clearly something need to be done. Even if she's not, the issue that she raises, the stench of treachery in our ranks, none of that is going to go away. Expect it to come up every time some outsider gets into a scuffle with a Knight. Expect your people to be confronted with it whether they even met her or not.

"So we'd best figure out what the Hell our story is, hadn't we?"

Brennan follows suit and sits down near Jovian, on a bench, and sighs.

"In a better world, you'd have more than a few hours to come to terms with all this. You want some free advice?"

"No. But that won't stop you."

"You're right, it was a rhetorical question. So here it is: Put her behind you. If you think she's dead, mourn her. If you think she could be alive, get over her. I love you like a brother," he says, absent the irony that most of the Family might gild it with, "but she's making you nuts, and it won't get better from here."

"Everything of importance we assumed about Chaos before we went there was wrong," Jovian says half to himself, or half to the horizon. "Or right, but in such wrong context the assumption was meaningless. I can't shift this gut feeling that it's the same with her - that what little truth we do learn won't scratch the surface of what we needed to understand." He shakes his head, his gaze dropping to the ground right before him and his voice to little more than a whisper. "I'm making me nuts. She was just being what she was."

Brennan shakes his head. "There's a point where the gulf of understanding is too great. I love my grandmother, Jovian... but I don't trust her. The perspective is too skew. Don't do this to yourself. Don't let it be done."

He puts his hand on Jovian's shoulder under the pretext of standing up-- he's not completely unaware of how he sounds.

"All right, I've said my piece, and torqued you off in the process. I'll be around Amber until Bleys calls me away if you want to talk. Meantime, stay away from Marius for a few days."

Unless Jovian wants to continue, Brennan is off to have a rooftop conversation with a surprisingly sane and lucid Lucas.

After Brennan hunts down Jovian, or fails to, he's going to head for one of his normal haunts when he's got things to think about and irritations to quash: Up on one of the battlements or roofs, the highest he can reach. The fresh air and the higher view are soothing, even if Brennan runs the risk of having a lightning bolt strike him.

After he has done his fair share of gazing broodingly into the middle distance like Hamlet on Elsinore battlements (or whatever else it is he proposes to do up there), he becomes aware that he is not alone. Standing next to him is Lucas, wearing (over his existentialist black polo neck and jeans) an Astrakan coat of the type favoured by early Soviet commissars (only rather better cut) and an irritated expression.

"I was wondering," he says, "whether this morning's brouhaha is some hideous new form of post-Chaosian reveille that we're to be subjected to on a daily basis like that bloody dawn bagpiper Vicky and that pompous prat Albert insisted on having at Balmoral, or if there were some singular and particular reason for it that you might care to share with me."

He reaches inside his coar and lifts out a gold cigarette case with the St Vire crest, flicks it open, and offers it to Brennan.

Despite the amazing regenerative properties of his lungs, it's not a habit Brennan formed. He shakes his head.

"It is the result," Brennan says, "of having given a friend enough rope to hang herself by the neck until dead, and watching others treat it flippantly."

Most if not all of Brennan's anger is gone, but the last part of that is enunciated carefully enough to be a warning shot across the bow.

Lucas is not high water for nothing - but he also feels that someone who was merely splashing in the puddles of water levels could pick up on that note in Brennan's voice.

As is right and proper.

[Lucas] simply nods as he takes a cigarette for himself and lights it with a match dragged across the rough hewn stone of the wall on this level.

"So," he says. "You feel her betrayal is personal, as well as political."

Brennan gives a sidelong look at that, but in the Family tradition, addresses only the part of Lucas' speech that he chooses to.

That being:

"Do you think she's dead?"

"I don't know. But I know she's heading that way in a handbasket. If she isn't a traitor, then she is very high up on Dara's list for assimilation. She'll end up like that member of the guard, and Dara will have that much more information to use against us.

"If she is a traitor..." He lets that trail off into an ellipsis of perfect clarity.

"In either case," says Lucas, first surreptiously checking that he has space to move if Brennan makes a sudden grab for his throat...

This amuses Brennan, in a distant way. Cold realities are fine, and unpleasant conclusions.

"...from our point of view - in the sense of the Family - death might be the safest solution. A calculation that I am sure our Uncles - well, some of them, have doubtless computed."

[Brennan]
"No, not necessarily. First, there's the manner of death. If she dies by Dara's hand, or this Cleph she's running around with, that's the least safe solution. And if she were to die by Amber's hand, we might not know the truth behind the situation."

[Lucas]
"I must admit, I would not have been surprised had Caine informed us at that meeting that Aisling was dead - whether or not he dessed it in the time-honoured euphuemisms of 'shot while trying to escape'. And of course it is possible that she is dead, and Caine has, for reasons of his own, cried havoc. But I doubt that. We are in peril enough without sowing deliberate seeds of confusion."

[Brennan]
"I would have been surprised. Caine is cagier than that, and he understands the value of knowing what it is Aisling knows, and knowing what she divulged. We don't have Dara's end-game advantage, there. Having been burned once, though, he'll probably be wearing asbestos next time around.

"And, yes, we have enough confusion to last a generation."

"However ... it is one thing to talk coolly of the logic of a situation, and another to deal with the feelings that lie behind the facts." [Lucas] glances now at Brennan. "Some of the Knights, I gather, feel this more strongly than others."

"That would be an astute guess."

"I have that reputation," says Lucas - and then he smiles. "There are also your own words, and the draconic wake-up call that drove me from my bed. It is a little unfortunate, would you not agree, that the most volatile of your companions should possess the most vociferous of emotional barometers? At all events, both powerfully suggest where the fault-lines lie."

He takes a long draw at his cigarette.

Brennan takes the opportunity to consider whether or not that crossed his lines of flippancy. Subtracting Lucas' normal sarcasm, he decides it does not.

"It is even more unfortunate that you will be leaving us so soon if this division remains unresolved," he continues quietly. "While I am fully cognizant of the pull of family loyalties, to say nothing of the attractions that a visit to remoter parts will no doubt offer at this time of year, I cannot help but feel you might be of more use defusing what appears to be an explosive situation here in Amber." He shrugs. "That is merely my perception. But I doubt whether Ossian and I - or even Cambina - would carry quite the same weight if we tried to intervene in a quarrel between the knight commanders."

"You flatter me," he says with just a touch of bitterness. Just a touch. "Even assuming that's true, I already promised Fi whatever help she might need taking Brita back. Which turns out to be," Brennan frowns, "A family picnic."

"Doubtless a challenge in itself," says Lucas. "The thought of such an event for moi, combining - as it would - my mother, my belle mere Lady Vesper, the obligatory sand in the sandwiches, bawling children and copious wasps ... well, I think there would be less unpleasantness to be shivering on the meadows in the early light of dawn, with a sick realisation deep in one's stomach that in one's cups the night before one had managed to challenge Jerod."

A duel with Jerod evidently doesn't hold the same sense of dread and foreboding for Brennan, but he takes Lucas' point. "And you haven't even met Grandmother," he says.

[Lucas] stabs out his cigarette. "Do you have any suggestions of what might be usefully done if things fall apart here in your absence? I am thinking specifically of a quarrel amongst your Knight Commanders. Riots and mayhem on a more domestic scale I trust we shall prove able to deal with."

Brennan smiles faintly at the idea of the whole of Amber falling into riots and mayhem in his absence.

"Wait for them to come to their senses and remember that they fought together. I wouldn't step between them, if I were you."

"Interposing my body between enraged combatant has never seemed the most sensible use of the Lucan form," agrees Lucas drily.

[Brennan]
"Luckily for all concerned, I'd be shocked if it ever came to that."

Pause.

"Lucas? Are you trying to be... helpful?"

"I am invariably helpful," Lucas says bitterly. "It is my lot in life that my endeavours are almost habitually mis-interpreted as officious interfering, jealous carping or indolent bitching which actually tells you more about the prejudices that I am continually confronted with than they do about my own shining endeavours. But I have been given to understand that such undeserved calumny is the lot of those who strive to bring a little light to other's bleak and desolate lives." He glances at Brennan. "To say nothing of the services of a really good hair stylist."

Brennan surpresses a smirk, but not the glimmer in his eye. "Of course, cousin. Your reputation is always safe with me."

"Tell me, though, in the absence of plagues, riots, and quarrelling Knights, how shall you be occupying your time?"

Lucas sighs. "My appalling mother-in-law fancies that I might embroil myself in the confusion and acrimony that is raging over the Hardwind estate. As though we do not possess ample family quarrels among our nearest and supposedly dearest, she believes that I will be the oil to pour on their troubled waters, the emollient that will soothe their raw wounds, the embrocation that will ease their aching joints. I should be flattered - being held to be the family's closest approach to a peacemaker does make a pleasant change from being seen as the gadfly, if not the blowfly. But I fear it will involve long and tedious interviews with dreary little accountants who will be determined to initiate me into their arcane and unpalatable arts."

"Maybe we could arrange a trade. Do you think your mother-in-law would find my solutions to the affair more palatable?"

He looks suspiciously at Brennan. "Why? Do you have a little task for me to while away my copious idle hours?"

Brennan looks hurt. He's really not, though.

"Simply being sociable, cousin. I trust my reputation is safe with you, though.

"Why, do you want a little task?"

"That depends," says Lucas with caution, "on the nature of the task. You must remember that I have a highly developed sense of self-preservation, combined with an appreciation of my creature comforts that has been known to occasion unfavorable comment from the grosser spirits that it has been my painful lot to dwell among.

"Although, perhaps, I do have a few longer term interests of my own. Such as finding a way to keeping the citizens of Amber from tearing each other apart for the present. A little practical economics.

"I understand you're trying a few ventures in this field as well."

"Yes, actually," Brennan responds, "although time hasn't permitted me to go as far with it as I might have liked. The construction of the Knights' Chapterhouse is intended to get some of the construction and industry working, and at least some coins moving from place to place.

"What were your ideas?"

"Much the same as yours," says Lucas, "although with a different outcome. Get the money flowing, give the construction industries a kickstart - on the basis that other industries would follow ...

"However, the project I was contemplating was - characteristically enough, I suppose you'd say - concerned more with pleasure than with utility. An attempt to provide circuses rather than just bread." He shoots another sidelong look at Brennan. "And to avoid supplying them with another reminder of this unsettling military presence in their midst."

He allows Brennan to absorb that and then adds quietly, "Although - at times I feel we're patting the patient's hand and applying sticking plaster to a superficial cut - while the internal injuries are horrendous. And those are the ones we should be treating."

[Appearing in the Amber Crier, covering the Coronation and the Masquerade.]

The new order of knighthood established by the King is in the process of negotiating for a permanent chapter hall in the city. Established land interests are competing to sell their best locations to the order in the hopes of finding favor with the Returnees.

A young member of the royal family has bought a townhome in the city and invited her relations to a housewarming there. Her staff is said to include a nursemaid, although the lady herself has no husband and there is no rumor of one on the horizon.

The King and Queen have debuted a new style of dancing at the coronation masquerade. This style, called the waltz, involves the man holding his partner close. The more traditional members of the court are scandalized by the waltz, but the younger generation and members of the royal family have been quick to take it up. Ambitious musicians should learn the music for the new dance as quickly as possible.

Several of the young royals were seen to hover close to their dance partners during the masquerade. It's spring and love is in the air; royal weddings may soon be in the offing. The King's son was particularly interesting to the ladies, including foreign dignitaries such as Duchess Valeria of Rebma.

After the invasion of the masquerade and the driving off of the enemy by the Princes, two members of the Royal family quarreled. A formal challenge is expected in the near future to resolve the matter.

There are several major investigations going on in Castle Amber to learn how the invaders were able to enter the ground. King Random and Prince Martin are in hot pursuit of our enemies and are expected to return soon with the heads of our foes.

Someone used the cover of the attack on the Masquerade to eliminate one of Amber's best-connected merchant princes. The number of suspects is so large that it may be impossible to determine who killed him and why.

Among the dead of the Masquerade is the husband of one of the favorite family members of one of the Regency Councillors. The court fight that is expected to ensue over the estate may bankrupt it, and the lady.

Rumor has it that Lord Rein has taken service with Prince Corwin in parts foreign and will not be striving for the office of Royal Bard. Other rumors say that his chief rival for the office is now certain that he will obtain it. Still other rumors say that one of the King's relations is slated for the position.

A member of one of Amber's prominent merchant families is about to ask the King to divorce him from his wife, who is believed to be barren.

The large foreign fleet recently in harbor has sailed under the auspices of one of the Princes. It is hoped that permanent trade relations will be opened, and that this voyage will serve to establish the first new permanent route.

The morning of coronation +7, Reid sends notes to Ossian and Lilly...

Cousin, I'd like to discuss your findings in the Harga'rel matter. Please meet me in the library at sunset.

Reid

Ossian sends a short note back.

I will be there.

O

Lilly will be at the appointed place, a bit early. She liked the library. Any excuse to spend time there was indeed a good one. Her plan is to arrive early enough to get some reading done of the history of Amber before the meeting begins.

Ossian also arrives a bit early. His plan is to study the sunset from the library windows, as it is a spectacular view. (Hm. Unless the library is on the wrong side of the castle, of course.)

Summary! So here's the bit. Reid doesn't have much new info since his last report to the queen. He's pretty sure one of the Land of Peace captains has smuggled Thalia out of Amber; they're all a bit suspicious; and he wants to know what Hargarel's business partners are up to in their own investigation.

Any facts or suspicions determined by Lilly or Ossian's investigations can be summarized here.

At this time (day 6?) Ossian hasn't got much more to tell than that Harga'rel and Thalia might have been lovers. (and that Valeria probably doesn't want that piece of information to be common knowledge) Ossian thinks that Thalia is the key to find the murderers.

Unless I am mistaken, which is indeed a possibility, Lilly has very little to report as well other then the fact that she did meet with Archer and that he has promised to cooperate with her.

Lilly hasn't had a chance to get a further report back from Archer about his scheduled meeting with Montage yet.

Ossian will go to the Gatewegian embassy day 7 or 8. He will basically want to know more about Harga'rels Gatwegian affairs and where Thalia has gone.

"Ambassador Thalia is unavailable. Ambassador Harper is unavailable. Delicate thaumaturgical research, I'm sure you understand. I can take a message for either of them, if you wish to leave one."

Ossian answers through clenched teeth: "Remind them that ambassadors and researchers have different tasks. And different rights." then he leaves without waiting for a reply.

"One of the more junior consular officers would have been happy to answer any of your questions, of course. Are you sure she can't help you?"

Ossian just walks off. Junior officers. Hrmpf.

On the eighth day after the coronation, Celesta gives Reid the following note, which was brought by a runner from Arden.

To my nephew Reid, greetings.

I write with news that will be of some interest to you following your recent encounter in Arden. One of my rangers, a man named Girth, whose description matches that of the man you encountered by that name, has proven to be possessed by an outside force.

I suspect that he has been possessed for some time, and his possession relates to the matter of disappearances from Amber that you have been investigating. Unfortunately, Girth is no longer available for questioning, so direct investigations have reached a dead end.

My daughter Robin, who had intended to liaise with you on this matter, has been called away on other business. We are now on a war footing; further investigations in Arden will be extremely dangerous. The new turn this matter has taken with the revelation of Ranger Girth's involvement renders additional effort on your part moot at this time.

If any other news relevant to this matter comes to me, I shall relay it.

I remain

Julian
Warden of Arden