After the Rebmans set off in company with Jerod and Vere, those who remain behind scatter back to their various duties. Corwin excuses himself, and Celina finds herself alone in the courtyard with her brother. Merlin looks a little lost, as if he can't quite figure out what he's supposed to be doing with himself.
Her heart throbs a bit as she tries to imagine some sort of graceful beginning. As lost as I am, I could always run off and join some theater company in Seaward, or try my luck with a crew of the merchant lines, or even hire on as a bookkeeper for an honest Shell.
What does he have?
His mother hasn't left him much and promises to take the rest away. His father is so married to his new city that he can barely hold a conversation that doesn't have an unending string of questions to it. The King is so closed. Merlin is headed that way, too. Perhaps this is a natural thing with this blood. I'm going to interfere. Again.
She stops herself from taking his hand. "Merlin, can we walk the shore? Would you like to talk about travel or Paris or just ask me questions about Rebma? I would like to build something between us."
Merlin looks vaguely startled when Celina approaches him, and a little wide-eyed when she finishes.
"Yes," he says after a moment of processing. "Let us walk."
As Corwin's children proceed along the way, he says, "I do not really know what I want to talk about. Paris does not seem to have much of a place for me. I do not have the skills or the knowledge to help my father, and I have no idea how to go about finding other tasks."
He glances back towards his father's palace. "My father did not plan this place with me in mind. I do not fit."
Her eyes tear up. So sudden is the desire to comfort him with arms about his shoulders and kisses to the mouth that has said this terrible thing. Four words so spare and pure.
I do not fit.
Celina pushes her center down into the ground, passing slowly through the trunklines of her nerves until she can feel her balance in her feet. She is silent a moment as she allows the paths to clear, her natural balance to work its way back up from the ground to her sex.
"I do not fit very well, myself." She breathes this out cleanly. On the in-breath she goes on. "Yet we will ever be attached here. For He is the father and mother of this place. Paris is your brother and my sister. Between us we have more claim to its friendship than Corwin with his secret birthing. A mother loves a child, but the child will find friends and lovers elsewhere.
"And this is not all." She swallows, wondering at herself and where this will go. She is sure she is younger than Merlin. Here and now she feels older. That would probably be reversed in his Chaos realm. "We should leave. There are more things we can do elsewhere. We can bring strengths back to Paris. We can at least look at Amber's woe for ourselves. We can avoid the mother-claws that reach for you. We can aid Vere and thereby gain a friend and another ally for Paris. He is going to war and thin on the Art to watch over him.
"We can learn about each other. We can take hold of mystery. We can do rather than be done to.
"I have walked the Pattern of Rebma. It was not something I even knew was daring until I was upon it. Vere says that the Pattern of Amber is broken--and this bodes ill for all those of the Blood there. Have you walked the Pattern of Paris, Merlin? Does it live inside you now? Or is there a reason Corwin lets Jerod and Vere do something he denies to you?"
Merlin lets her many words break over him like a wave. Celina senses he understands some of her intent even if he doesn't quite know what she's saying.
He glances about to make sure their talk isn't being overheard. "I walked the Pattern of Paris when I was here the first time, when we returned from beyond Ygg before our uncle's coronation in Amber. I have not since had time to master the skills of it. My walk was--difficult." He frowns.
Understatment. Much like I would do. Does anyone master such a thing? Celina nods to show that she is all attention.
After a moment, he adds, "If you want to go to Amber, I can take you there. Most of my friends have left there, but they will perhaps soon return. And if they do not, we can travel onward, if there are places you would like to go. Vere will return to Amber when he is done in Rebma; perhaps we will go with him when he departs again."
"All of that sounds well to me," she answers quickly. "Still I have this to add, and tell me if you like the sound of it. Before leaving here, I would walk Paris'--I mean our father's Pattern as you have. Then when we move from here, we can always compare experiences, riddle each other and step lightly onward together. Somehow I do not expect much instruction from Corwin unless we stay near to Paris. So we have only each other to glean the manner of shadow and all things of Pattern." She keeps her voice pitched low out of respect for his concerns.
Merlin frowns as Celina suggests she take the Pattern of Paris. "I am not sure another walk so soon is wise. There are forces at work--there was a reason Jerod and my father and you and I accompanied Vere when he was to walk. Jerod's attempt was rash and foolish, and I say this knowing that he has mastered the skills of Pattern in his short life as I can hardly hope to. Why do you want to take this risk?"
"So soon?" Celina is surprised. "Meaning the Pattern itself is agitated by people walking it? I hadn't considered that." She mutters, "I suppose the one in Rebma gets little use."
"No, it is not like that--" Merlin's face contorts slightly with the effort of coming up with the right words. He gives up and shrugs.
She is quiet for a moment, just walking at his side.
"Why?" Celina sighs. "So many reasons--and I must be honest with you, because I have to be with someone or I'll go mad." She winces to hear it out loud.
"Because Paris is that device as the device is Paris. Because I want to love Paris, but it has no woman's strength in it. It grows only from the seed of ... our father, and you, and Vere, and Jerod now. All who have dared the Pattern and sweat upon it. While I find each of you delicious in variety, I have yet to see the glimmer of a notion of Llaya in any of you. There is no 'female creativity' in Paris and that is very sad. Sadder because everything is young and fresh and so green."
She looks to him, to see if this means anything at all. I fear I am talking to a man with no cultural analog to my concerns. What do the Chaosi feel about gender?
And perhaps she is right, because her brother looks quite confused.
"And perhaps more because I want there to be something Very Important I know I'm sharing with someone I'm planning on spending a lot of time with." She looks at herself looking back from the reflection in his eyes. "I have no hint that the Rebman Pattern is really tied to the Paris Pattern, and reasons to think they aren't."
"We have much in common," Merlin says, jamming his hands into his pockets. He lowers his voice again. "But I would rather we not share the experience of being attacked on the Pattern."
"Attacked?!" So shocked, Celina pushes out with her palms flat to either side to halt, but alas there is no water to push against. Likewise, the backwards thrust of her shoulders fouls her balance. She nearly pitches back onto her rump.
Merlin frees his hands with a motion that's not quite human. He grabs Celina's wrist to keep her from falling.
Everything happens so fast, her mind skips and stores Merlin's motion in a safe cubby.
Her wobble is corrected. She stares at him. As hard as it was for me to manage, he was attacked while doing It and lives to tell about it!
Celina blinks hard, trying to clear her thoughts. "Ah." She centers and tries to find further clues in his expression. Can I ask him about this? Spines! What manner of mental concentration he must have.
"So Corwin can't explain why you were attacked or by whom. That explains the large party going to Vere's walk. And if you think that Jerod was foolish, then the attack must have ..." she looks at him closely, "...appeared suddenly?"
"Our father and I have not discussed it. He is busy with matters of Paris, and I have not wanted to disturb him. Those I have spoken of it with--they are not sure they believe me." The corners of Merlin's mouth turn downward in a frown.
Celina almost gapes--but it puts too much empty air in her mouth and she snaps her teeth closed.
"Whoever it was appeared suddenly, yes. Our father fought the attacker off. When I reached the center of the Pattern, I went away to a place I knew, that I did not think the one who attacked me could find. From there I used a Trump to go still elsewhere, breaking my trail again. I only returned to Paris with my father a few days ago, just before you arrived."
Merlin adds, "You should speak to our father if you truly wish to do this thing."
"I shall, you can be sure," Celina says with some edge. "A mad, bad, nameless fellow appears on the Family Device to skewer you--then escapes the devoted attack of a prince of Amber--and They are not sure They believe you? Did They--in their capricious wisdom--mention the more likely event to explain your experience or were They too busy being half-blown fish farts?"
She winces, "Excuse my language...."
"You understand that the tale is incredible? Particularly when I relate that our father fought my assailant over the device? And that my assailant resembled our uncle Benedict in every particular?" Merlin is staring at Celina, wide-eyed and intense.
The mirror stare goes back to him. Green eyes wide and intense, Celina makes a small sound that might best be described by an independant observer as a dolphin hiccup.
A long pause--then, "Well." She realizes she's staring at him so hard and starts to laugh lightly. "Incredible, perhaps, let me see." She fusses and pinches her earlobe, still watching his very extraordinary face. "T'was not Benedict, certainly for he hasn't walked the Paris pattern. And if he had, it might have been Benedict succeeding and not your father driving him off." Celina looks deeper into Merlin's eyes, wondering again at reflections there. "I hope your father confirms that it was he who was present. Oh, you said you haven't had chance to speak of it. Spines."
Merlin nods. The wildness in his eyes has begun to fade a little.
[Celina]
"So even if it was Corwin--these two fought over the device--which
I take it is probably deadly wrong. We know that Corwin is beyond even
extraordinary, for only in extremis could the device hurt him at this
point. We then must wonder how extraordinary and from where the false
Benedict comes from."
She won't let go of his gaze. "I still believe you, Merlin. May I ask to attempt to scry to see this thing for myself? It obviously made quite an impression."
"I have tried such a scrying, but the power of the device blocks my sorceries." He frowns. "Perhaps your magics will prove different enough from mine that it will work."
He adds, "It has been suggested to me that the person I saw was the one who kidnapped our kinswoman Brita from the coronation masquerade in Amber, but I do not believe this. Also, it has been suggested that what I saw was a delusion of my maternal heritage and my paternal heritage brought on by the stress of the walk. I do not believe this either."
"Then I do not believe it either," she says. "Let us step out of the sunlight, but move no closer to the Pattern. By my Art, I do not dream to test my Llaya against the Pattern. I'm not sure I would have even thought to try. You are quite the Artist in the things you attempt.
"I'm impressed."
Merlin nods his thanks.
"Your eyes were not in sunlight when you saw this event," she goes on as they walk inside. "So as I plan to use your eyes to see this thing, I want to reproduce the light. Light is very important to this. Necessity is all else." She realizes after she has said it that this isn't quite right. She amends with a whisper, "And that I am of your blood."
She stops in a ground floor hallway, noting a long wooden bench seat. She points to it. "Here would be good. Please sit."
Celina moves along the hall and douses a few lights so that the lighting is more cavernous. Out of respect for Merlin's Art, she thinks ahead as she sits next to him. "I'm going to use your eyes as mirrors, asking them to recall what was reflected there. This will give me a very small image--but it will also connect me closer to the event. In a way, we will have seen the same thing, from just the same perspective. The magic will be only between the two of us, and Pattern will not be disturbed or challenged.
She smiles and a hand smoothes her lap. "And do you have any questions before I try this?"
Merlin thinks for a moment before speaking. "This must be the Rebman art. I do not know it, but I will trust your magics."
Celina begins with a smile at Merlin and a tune under her breath. It is a basic song of the TaKhi, meant for limbering and warmups. She's glad she doesn't have footgear on, as she stretches her toes and moves her feet in small patterns of gentle stimulation. She's never used song for mirror work before, but then, there is more sorcery than mirror in what she's trying.
(ooc :: In truth, I'm not sure that her instructors would ever have crossed mirrors and sorcery before, but why not?)
She thinks about tears. A sister's shock and sadness for the look of wild pain on Merlin's face when he told her about his ordeal and the blatant disbelief. She works that image will she hums.
Lifting a fingertip to her own eye, she waits, paused. It comes to fruit of its own speed: a tear forms at the corner of her eye and she catches it on the mirror-laquered nail. A small gesture and she is showing Merlin what she has poised reflecting there.
Celina moves the finger slowly, now seeing both her own face and Merlin's in the droplet. She moves it to the corner of Merlin's eye. It enters and she slowly releases the Llaya through her nerves to flow into his eye.
There is a moment of blindness, and then she sees from the perspective of one walking the Pattern of Paris. Silver light plays over most of her field of vision, and sparks rising as high as her head. There are shadowy figures moving ahead and near her as she moves forward, but she can discern little about them just now.
Celina feels the tingles of her own walk echo like ghosts in her feet and thighs. She leans into the reflection; her eyes narrow against the silver and shadows.
Into another place which might be useful or not, she casts a whisper, "It's working, Merlin."
Merlin's breath is harsh. He doesn't speak, perhaps fearing he'll distract her from the magic.
Although Celina tries to hold on to the picture and sharpen it, she sees the image slipping away. Her vision resolves itself and she is suddenly looking into her brother's eyes.
"What did you see?" he asks.
She flushes. "It did happen as you say--I saw figures in conflict. Shadows. The light of the Pattern was in my eyes. It was real enough to give me shivers. Unfortunately, I ... couldn't hold onto the image. It slipped through my fingers." She looks at her lap, embarrassed. "I'm sure that my teachers would not give me a passing mark on this."
"It is difficult to improvise sometimes," Merlin says. "I give you a passing mark. What shall we do now?"
"Improvise," she smiles. Celina leans closer, bringing shoulder to rest against his. That this also nudges everything from hip to breast into Merlin is only natural. "There are two things that I think we need. See what you think. First, I should at least ask Father about walking his Pattern and see what he thinks of the idea. I am well-rested. I will learn something from his answer, I'm fairly certain. Second, we should take ourselves to shadow or Amber and learn more about how we fit into the lines of geometry between all this PatternStuff. I swear I don't understand how it is that Moire and Corwin can carry on these communiques about protecting young people without having to do anything about it in a practical sense. So you and I will be practical about it.
"Father as much as told me that he can't and isn't going to keep me here. I agree with you about this place having a rhyme that doesn't include our meter. We were offstage unknowns when this poem was written."
She straightens and looks at the opposite wall of the hallway as if something hopeful was written there. It isn't. So she sighs and looks at Merlin. "What do you think?"
"I think your counsel is wise, sister. I do not know whether our father will permit you to walk the Pattern, but I cannot see the harm in asking. And I will follow you into Shadow, wherever you want to go, or lead you back to Amber," Merlin says.
"Sounds as if we have a plan," she agrees with a smile.
"Have you been trained with weapons? Do you know any offensive or defensive sorceries? These things I can teach you, if you do not know them." He disengages slightly, enough to stand, and offers his arm to Celina to help her to her feet.
Celina takes his questions in good humor. "To be honest, I've had enough training with common blades to respect them and not hurt myself. Though most of the girls thought learning the art was more about stage theater. With sorcery I suppose I'm more scholar than . . . combatant. I would be wise to agree to see what I can learn from you. I'm pretty new to the whole idea of being important enough to be the object of someone's ire. I thank you for your generosity and foresight." She nods at her own thought and then voices it. "I'm not sure I would have thought to ask."
"You are welcome, sister. I will tell you, though, only sorceries you know in your bones will help you in a fight. The rest will be too slow; a blade will serve you better. We will practice with each other, and both improve thereby."
And after Merlin comments--off they go to quiz pater.
And if the GMs wish to summary some of that, then that would be fine. Celina is basically going to ask straight out if Corwin will allow her to walk the Paris Pattern on the basis of understanding the ties between herself, Rebma, Paris, and Merlin.
Corwin says flat-out no.
The Pattern is dangerous. Not his Pattern, any Pattern. His sister Mirelle died on it, did Merlin and Celina not know? What Jerod did was rash, foolish, and just the sort of thing Eric would have done; he would like to think that Celina and Merlin will live long enough to learn more common sense than Jerod seems to have.
[OOC: somewhere, Cambina says, "Well, it's good at least that dad's genes for stubbornness and personal foolishness are still with us."]
Celina will have to make the return point that, no, she did not know about Mirelle, and that, no, she couldn't begin to guess that Jerod was rash or foolish from the small conversations that she had with him.
Corwin is mildly apologetic when he realizes his daughter didn't know the story of Mirelle, and she senses that he's displeased with the situation, as if Moire has neglected some important aspect of her training.
She will refrain from telling her father that "common sense" is a myth that no amount of 'living long enough' will instill. But later, feeling as if she can wonder at Corwin's responses with Merlin, she will say to Merlin that she understands there is "intuition" and "wisdom" and that there is nothing common about either one of them.
The Patternwalk having been forbidden, a glum but unsurprised Merlin suggests that they depart in the morning for Amber.
To which Celina agrees completely. She will pack herself up that night before bed.
Celina will mention something to Merlin before they part for the night. "Merlin, a thought steals upon me I'm going to share. It's probably foolish, but I'm only thinking of our mutual success in crossing shadow and seeing Amber."
"I understand the barest amount regarding your Chaosi origins and your mother's desire to interfere with or end you--but from what I do know, would you be willing to leave Rebma wearing a set of my clothes and a layer of green paint? The idea of where you went or how you got out of the city might be murky if I leave in the company of another Rebman." She raises her brows and shrugs.
"We do not need paint for this thing," says Merlin. He closes his eyes, and flushes, as if Celina has said something embarrassing. As she watches, the flush deepens and changes hue, from a pinkish color to a pale green, then a darker green. His hair takes on emerald glints.
The effect lasts for about a minute, then he begins to fade back to his normal color. "It would take me some time to change myself to make the effect last. Or to make myself wear a womanish body. I could do it, though. As for my mother, she will seek me by sorcery, and physical telltales such as skin color and breasts will hardly deceive her. So I thank you for the offer, but it is unnecessary."
Later:
She will also dream of mirrors, swordsman fighting on the Pattern of Rebma, and a woman wearing nothing but silver roses and Celina's face.
In the morning, she enjoys a shower, dresses for travel and goes to gather up her traveling companion. She will be the student for this trip into shadow.
Merlin has gathered his things as well; he seems to have some gear to bring with him to Amber.
The grooms have horses ready for them: two steeds and a pack horse for their travel needs. Corwin and the Roths come out to bid them farewell. Corwin and Bill offer hugs to Celina and manly shakes to Merlin; Alice hugs both of them and gives them a basket with lunch in it for their first day.
Then they are ready to ride out to Amber.
The mounts of the sea have decidedly a different "seat" and Celina wonders that she won't feel some bruises in the first few days. She judges that the sea mounts are a bit more flexible in the torso. There doesn't seem to be as much squeeze or give to the horses.
She makes a note to stretch at any stopping points.
Once they leave Paris behind, she dives in to ask, "You offered to lead to Amber and I am grateful for that. Yet how will I know my way if you lead? Do I have to break the trail at all, or do I just follow behind you?"
"In fact," she throws one last thought to the Shadowed lace of Eiffel's Thrust, "just knowing that Amber is like Rebma is hardy enough to find it, I imagine. So many assumptions are built into a world always beneath the waves that make no sense in worlds of air."
Celina looks at him. "Am I making it too complex? Or not enough?"
"You can shift a little, and then I will shift some, and slowly but surely we will make our way there. I have ridden the way from Amber to Paris; I think I can get us back to Amber. If we get lost, I can call via a Trump."
Merlin draws out a small box and shows Celina some cards. Their father, a redheaded woman, a thin man with long hair, and a serious-looking blond fellow. Other than Corwin, Celina recognizes none of them.
She studies them intently, even as she might a chance to observe unseen someone at Moire's court. "Relatives, I assume . . ." She points but does not touch the one of the redheaded woman. "Is this the Scarlet Sorceress of Amber?"
"Not at all," Merlin replies. "This is Paige, the daughter of Bleys. She taught me the art of Trump. And this is Lord Reid," he says of the scarecrowlike fellow. "And this other is Prince Martin, the King's son."
She nods. "Well--to business then. I begin and you correct and as a course running with the wind we shall arrive."
Celina thinks first about Amber and sunlight, for the two seem welded together in her mind. Not the warm green glimmering of Rebma's sun, but the pure coin-gold brightness of what light must fill the chalice of Amber. She settles herself to her mount such that it means little to nothing to ride along and looks at the horizon. Her focus takes in the colors ahead.
In her mind, she knows the high ground around the castle must be golden too--though green will never be far from her thoughts. But always it comes back to what will light glinting off windows and rooftops will look like and how it should beckon.
She adds the scent of salt and background crush of waves. Goes back to the theme of light and gold and green. A tiny crease appears between her brows. The sun is warmer, but she hears the surf. She scans. Nothing in any direction seems to be a near ocean, but a whiff of air says it is there. Celina laughs. "What in pearls have I done?"
It takes some time to realize that they ride now not far from cliffs overlooking a long drop to an aqua sea. The heights were not apparent to the casual sight. The horizon is smudged with weather changing. Since she knows they didn't climb to get to these heights, she knows that they have indeed moved strangely.
And learned that shadows are a slippery matter.
"Yes, Amber is on a mountain by a shore," Merlin praises Celina. "Very well done. You must be tired. Let us stop and eat."
Once they have dismounted, Celina realizes that she is, indeed, quite tired, almost as if she'd been playing a hard game of teebe or doing TaKhi exercises all morning. She could do with a nap, although she's by no means too tired to continue riding. It's a new way of concentrating for her.
Merlin busies himself in preparing lunch from the basket Alice had prepared for them, letting Celina stretch her legs and rest.
Quite pleased by her brother's comment, yet worried that she's been doing so many things wrong that she's tiring herself somehow--Celina is glad of the stop. She debates about telling Merlin how tired she is--decides not to. On impulse, she reaches for her hems and pulls the dress off over her head and hangs it on her horse's pommel.
Merlin looks up from his work, a startled expression on his face, but he recovers quickly and doesn't say anything to Celina.
Noticing, she curses her casualness mentally while smoothly turning away.
Then she walks towards the sea breeze, but not too far. She tries TaKhi limbering exercises, working her thighs and getting her lungs to charge her blood with more energy. A set of stretches, some honest hard work, then some cooling routines before she ambles back to camp for food. The sea air plays with tendrils of her hair where it has come loose during her tiny workout.
Despite his efforts with the food, Celina has the sense that Merlin is paying attention to her. If she were attacked, he'd be there at once.
She warms in the sun and in his protective watchfulness.
The horses, however, mind their own business and munch on grass.
She makes a passing note of their determined dullness. Horses might be stupid. Many mounts are.
She sits and smiles. "So--more names. Paige, daughter of Bleys, is a teacher who you've known some time. You aren't the new arrival to Amber I thought you were. And what is Martin like? I've heard his name in Rebma."
Wearing only her boots, she relaxes and eats while he answers.
"Oh, I have only been to Amber once. I knew Paige and Martin before ever I came to Amber. You will find when we arrive that we have many cousins--a score or more. Our father's brothers and sisters have reproduced prodigiously!"
Celina laughs lightly. "Really?"
Merlin offers Celina some bread and cheese. There is also some sort of meat product, a long round thing, that Merlin is looking at dubiously as he holds it up.
Her eyes sparkle. She waits on his answer.
"Martin I have known since I was a little boy," Merlin says. "He came to my grandfather's castle to be my teacher. He taught me most of what I know about Amber, and when he had to leave, he arranged to visit me, and even introduced me to Paige. He is very kind, and very wise. I think you will like him," Merlin says hopefully.
"I like the sound of him already," she replies honestly. "For someone to take time to travel to see you and spend time teaching you of your ancestral home--. Well, I have a high regard for teachers. I'd like to meet him.
"Of course, with this much family, I suppose that I'll be spending most of my time sorting out meetings."
"Oh, you will. We have many cousins. Paige and Folly and Brennan and Lilly and Jerod, of course, and Reid and Vere and many others. I am not convinced I have met all of them yet," Merlin replies. "But I will introduce you to Martin, so you will get to know him. If he is back, that is."
He takes a knife and cuts the tube of meat, offering one part to Celina awkwardly.
"Hard salami," she nods. "A delicacy in the Seaward. Not many people like the strong taste, but I do. We have to import it through the Golden Circle connections which have been shut down for a long time. It's full of garlic. Peppercorn. Plenty of salt. Fat. Pork or beef is the main substance." She nods her thanks. "Usually cut thin and savored on the tongue. Would you like me to show you?"
"Please," says Merlin, handing her the knife as well. He is careful to give it to her handle-first.
Celina takes the knife and meat and begins to carefully work paper-thin slices off the hard length. She nods to Merlin. "Go ahead and let a piece sit on your tongue for a bit while you warm and soften it." She pops a slice in her mouth quickly. Then cuts six more.
Merlin says, "Good. I wondered how I could eat it without disjointing my jaw. I can do that, but I did not think you could." He takes a slice and sets it on his tongue, as Celina suggested.
The Seaward lass chews at the tasty slice in her mouth; herds and throttles the thoughts that spill into her head now. Perhaps it is the sunshine on her nudity, the savory flavors of rare delicacies, or the pure curiosity of what Art might be achieved through fanciful disjointed positions in a watery bedroom. She eats in silence while admonishing herself.
If Merlin understands the tenor of her thoughts, he does not respond to them.
"It's good. Alice did well by us." Celina finishes the rest of the food quickly and goes to retrieve her dress and slip it on. She licks the garlic essence from her fingers. "Next you will shift the shadows and I will learn? It was tiring for me. I imagine when next we stop you will be hungry. Is there enough for dinner or should we plan on finding a stopping point with provisions?" She hesitates. "I'm willing to camp, but I confess to being mostly city-bred."
She looks to her brother to see if understands her admission.
"I will shift for a time, yes," says Merlin. "I have camped before, with provisions. I do not know enough about orderly food to choose a camp for that. I mean, I have eaten it, but I do not know how to find the makings of it. I am not sure," he adds awkwardly, "that I know how to bring us to a place with provisions, either.
"But we will think of something. I believe there is enough food in our saddlebags to last us through tomorrow, at least."
Merlin's admission actually cheers Celina a bit. She grins. "Well, we're a fine pair to be out in the great outdoors." She laughs at herself and runs her fingers back through her hair. "I think you are right. Something will turn up. You take the next shifting and I'll try to figure out what we'll do after tomorrow's provisions. If all else fails, I should be able to get us back to a decent inn somewhere in the Seaward--even if that is not exactly where we wanted to go."
Merlin nods in agreement.
She thinks a moment more. "What sort of food is common to Chaos? Is it magical?"
Her brother gets a little wide-eyed again. "You do not know," he says. "Chaosi eat very differently than orderly beings." He frowns.
Celina ignores or doesn't see the large foreshadowed warning. She opens her mouth to ask more specific questions--her curiosity pulling her forward.
Changing the subject: "I eat after the orderly fashion. I just do not know how to find food with the Pattern. I have been told the general principles, but I worry that I lack in practice."
She flexs. "Practice. Well, I presume that orderly food will be easy for me since I don't know anything about disorderly food. That will be my contribution." She smirks. "If we get to that point, I'll have a go at getting us an inn that's not under the sea. At some level, there are base similarities which ought to keep us going. Can I work on finding food and a place to stay while you work on getting to Amber or does that murk the whole process?" She answers her own question a breath later. "Best not to experiment too much when we are still doing the basics." The last comes out reluctantly.
Merlin nods slowly.
She strolls back to the horse and pats it, running her hand across the shoulder. "I like how everything is warm, taking in the sun and making such a sensual hearth of common objects. I could get used to this very easily."
Her brother looks confused.
Celina squints. "Though at times, my eyes are less comfortable with all the glare the surface revels in."
"That I know the cure for, sister, though I have not any. I will seek the thing called 'sunglasses'," Merlin says.
Celina chuckles and gives him a puzzled look. "I can see it just fine. Any better and my eyes would melt. How would these sunglasses help the case?"
"They are dark coverings for the eyes. You see through them, but without so much glare. Martin wears them all the time when we travel together. I think they come from what Martin calls 'high-tech' Shadows. I do not think we want to go to one of those, however; I understand there are many things there that I do not know well enough to control." Merlin frowns.
"Makes sense that a Rebman would think of such a thing. I'll be sure to ask Martin about them when we get to Amber." Celina doesn't try to hide her delight at the novelty of putting shaded glass before the eyes. Green would probably be the right color.
The Seaward girl waits on her brother. Mounts then and moves after him, her mind holding close to him as her traveling partner. She doesn't want to find out the hard way that Pattern, like mirrors, can trick the unwary to follow ghosts.
Merlin rides along the side of the sea, subtly changing things as they go. Sometimes Celina can feel when they pass through the veil from shadow to shadow; other times not. The changes make little sense to Celina; sometimes it almost seems as if Merlin is erasing changes he made in a previous shift.
Always watching, sometimes silenting cheering when Merlin seems encouraged by shifts. Celina realizes more that this is exactly the sort of trip she needed. Merlin has no agenda laid before him but his own--and today that is fine company. He is easy to talk with, if not understand.
She takes a few chances to compliment when things seem to go smoothly.
Merlin always seems a little startled when she does so, but is gracious and appreciative.
The afternoon shadows grow long after a while. Even though Merlin does not appear to be tired, tiny lines are showing in his brow, and it is taking longer for him to make, or perhaps choose, shifts.
Celina is beginning to feel the need to stretch her legs, empty her bladder, and have some dinner.
"We aren't expected and not likely to get there in a day as you said," Celina draws her mount alongside his. "Plenty of light now. Let's find a camp. May I try?" She gives him a grin.
"Yes, please," says Merlin. "This is harder work than I thought." He sits back slightly in his saddle, and lets Celina's horse take the lead.
Celina sets her mind to a burst of focus.
An inn at a crossroads is what she is trying to add to the horizon now. The way before them will see the grass gradually wear away to a trail, then a rough dirt path leading over the sunny grassland.
She finds inspiration in the things that would accumulate to explain such a place ahead. A small cove at the sea for landings and quick drops of cargo. Some bare roads leading to the interior away from the coast. A village of fishers and growers who might someday hope their little village becomes a properous gate to the inner lands. Celina hums as the wiles of a merchant house daughter supply her with detail after detail of how the small inlet provides for the inn she wants to stay at tonight.
So she sees the man and woman of later years that run the place; the younger couple, middle son and energetic daughter who will someday put their own stamp on the ownership; a lean-to for mounts behind the place. Then she knows there are a few girls from town who dance there and chat for the hope of coppers to call their own while they also do the transfer of food from kitchen, or linens from laundry.
The strain builds somewhere in her mind, laying about the lines of horizon and color of grass as Merlin and she move along.
The sense of travel is there, light moving around them both. Wind moving scents and leaves from trees in a whisper of encouragement to Celina that is much like the comfort of sea and surf.
As Celina builds the place in her mind, she occasionally senses the sparkles that indicate they have passed through a veil out of the corner of her eyes. The sun begins to decline on the horizon, and as it passes low between a cleft in the mountains, the village comes into sight. The inn is there, just as she envisioned it.
Merlin reaches into a pouch at his waist. "I think I have coin that will buy us a night here," he says, low. His clothes have changed somewhat, as have hers, to accommodate the fashions of the place. Celina thinks it is his doing.
Celina is surprised by the detail of coin. The trade in Seaward is often by pact or marker or coin of Rebma. Obviously a thing she should have thought of. A greatful smile is thrown at Merlin. "Nice work. And the clothes, I didn't hold much of an image of myself as I was moving. Something I'll get better at."
"Easier when two work at it," Merlin says.
Last modified: 20 April 2004