The dining room is one of the first floor's great halls, and the doors to the terrace are open, as usual. Inside, Random's kitchen has prepared a vast array of food, heavy on the meats and exotic dishes, for his guests. The staff constantly renews the food and, since the meal is restricted to family, the atmosphere is casual. If only the chairs at the head and foot of the table were taken by the absent King and Queen, the room would look normal for a private dinner of the Princes and Princesses of Amber.
Corwin, as senior monarch, is acting as erstwhile host, and greets everyone as they enter. He wears his traditional colors of silver and black, in a dinner jacket with a subtle rose motif. Corwin is pleasant and seems glad that this meeting is about a happy circumstance, for once.
Despite a sizable and leisurely lunch with Edan earlier that day, Brennan is one of the first to arrive. Casual as the atmosphere may be, it is still a Family gathering, and there are still the subtle protocols to observe: Brennan is also dressed in his colors, with a longish jacket of muted red over a shirt that shimmers between black and red, and black pants and boots. His only jewelry is the Ring of the Order of the Ruby, with the odd half-twist of it mostly concealed between the fingers of his left hand.
Brennan warmly accepts Corwin's greetings, and if he is genuinely the first to arrive will stand and make small talk, making it subtly known that he appreciated the chance to reunite with Regenlief away from the public eye. He'll depart when others begin to arrive so as not to usurp his role as host. He is particularly looking for either Marius or Benedict to speak with.
Other members of the family start to trickle in. Fiona arrives and greets both Corwin and Brennan. Julian arrives and corners Corwin for a discussion of something-or-other. Merlin and Marius arrive together, and separate so Merlin can speak with his father.
Signy and Celina arrive at the doorway in conversation and take in the groupings of the room. Celina is dressed in a toga of shimmering blue silks and is barefoot, though her hair is pinned up and braided. She smiles when she sees Merlin waiting to talk to Corwin.
Celina whispers to Signy that she'll be right back.
Signy offers a brief nod at this, before making her way over to the bar to pour herself a bourbon, neat.
Foregoing the traditional dress, Silhouette strikes a masculine figure in her ash-grey, pinstriped suit and crisp, black trousers. The stark-white blouse makes her checkered tie stand out sharply, its silk length perfectly knotted. Delicate petals of silver accessorize her midnight black lapel and hand, catching the light as she moves. Makeup is kept minimal, softening her elegant features. Her lips, the color of pink rose petals, offer a sensual contrast to the shadowy suit. Swept back, her hair brushes her angular shoulder in a curling ponytail. She strides confidently across the room, perfectly at ease on her high, peek-toe shoes.
She notes those present, paying them a polite nod or smile. However, she remains the room's periphery, walking around it with purpose and interest. In her suit, she casts the semblance of a shark in motion, moving, moving lest she died for the stopping.
Not long behind Celina is Llewella, dressed in her colors and with her hair cut short again. Paige is with her, and they're giggling about something or other as they enter the room. Paige starts to go to Merlin but she sees that he's occupied, and merely flashes a smile at him and Celina.
Conner arrives next. He is dressed in the Amber style in his usual blues and greens with a wide sash around the middle like they wear in the Land of Peace and Halosydne on his hip. Conner sweeps the room with his gaze, greeting everyone with a nod and a version of his omnipresent smile. He walks straight to the no-doubt well stocked bar and busies himself with the preparation of a cocktail with multiple colored ingredients carefully layered.
Ossian enters, dressed in white shirt and blue trousers. There are small paint stains on his sleeves. He greets everyone with a smile or a bow or a nod, and a wink to Silhouette. Then he joins Conner at the bar, pouring a glass of white wine for himself.
A lean, trim young man appears in the doorway. He is dressed in a casual rust-red shirt, buttoned at the cuff, and dark gray, almost black trousers. His dark brown leather boots look worn, but very comfortable. No weapons of any sort hang from his brown leather belt. An unconscious shake of his head parts the shock of dark brown hair from his eyes as he prepares to enter. For those who have not seen Prince Garrett recently, he looks older, his brows a bit heavier and his shoulders stronger than when he departed Xanadu however long ago. But his grin holds the same charm as it ever did when he greets Corwin at the door and turns to scan the room.
Bleys wanders in not far behind Garrett and moves to join Fiona (unless intercepted).
Edan appears at the door, then almost immediately turns and says something to the man behind him. It is a man in the unfamiliar livery of the Order of the Lamp, who takes the murmured instructions and leaves.
When Merlin and Marius arrive together, Brennan breaks off with whoever he's chatting with-- probably Fiona-- and makes his way over to Marius.
"Marius," he greets him. "How have you been? It seems there are fewer of us every time we have one of these gatherings, and I get the feeling we're all about to be pressed into service." By us, he means Knights of the Ruby, not Family members.
Marius gives Brennan a clasp that's more solid than it would have been when he arrived but probably less strong than Marius (or Brennan, for that matter) would like it to be. He's dressed in dark colors, navy and red, and wearing his Ruby ring as well. He's definitely gotten some color back, but he's never going to completely recover from the double-damage done to him, Brennan can see. "I'm hoping I'll be considered fit for duty, even if it's not on the front lines. How are you doing? I've been hearing things and seeing paperwork from the Knights, but it's not the same as the stories of what's happening in the field."
Brennan is more distressed-- close to stricken-- by Marius' continued ill-health than he allows to show on his face. But he'll address that later, and gingerly, if at all.
Instead, he gives Marius the thumbnail sketch of things, less a blow by blow account than a filling in of the details that wouldn't make it into the reports and rumors because they're only suitable for Family ears. Marius is no fool and he's had plenty of time to worry over details in his head. Brennan is perfectly aware that he is mostly confirming guesses rather than adding actual knowledge: The trip to Avalon, the nature of the place, etc.
Where he slows to add detail are the parts that he, Brennan, still finds most interesting, and the parts that he expects Marius will find most interesting. The former include the odd and tragic business of Cameleopardis which still greatly bothers him, and the strange and unexplained business of Montage and hypothetical Moire. The latter is every scrap of detail he can recall about the naval situation, from daily life aboard Crisp's ship, to the mustering of the Maghee fleet, to the overall naval situation in Avalon... such as they can get into without drawing it out on the dinner table. The new island, of course, constitutes both.
"That's ... a lot," Marius says. He looks up and catches that Signy has come in, and tries to meet her gaze for a moment before turning his attention back to Brennan. "We'll want to get out the sand table later, or tomorrow, or maybe we should bring it to the family gathering. And whether it's Moire or not, we've got a powerful sorceress at play. Someone needs to put a stop to her. Or find out who and what she is. Do we have any word of Saeth since she came to this side of things? It couldn't be her involved here because of the timing. Could it?"
"Imagine my rapturous anticipation of telling Benedict that there's a new invasion platform right off his coast," Brennan says. "Then again, he might like it. Hard to say."
"I have no recent news of Saeth. If you're saying she's on this side of the Tree, your information is more recent than mine," Brennan continues, inviting some elaboration on that. "What makes you think to mention her in this context? Your thinking this Montage is a shapeshifter?"
Marius looks around. "I have that from Caine, by way of Vere through Gerard. Part of how I keep useful to Random is keeping up with Caine." He smiles, thinly. "We are hard to kill, but it's going to be a long time before I'm back to my old self, if ever." He sounds somewhat sad, although he doesn't seem as resigned to his losses as Gerard.
"Anyway, there was some sort of altercation and suddenly Saeth is a teenaged runaway off to find her way in Order, where her Daddy can't go searching for her without a license from Random. Sounds like a B-movie plot, I know, but either she's out there being more dangerous than we expect or she's out there in more danger than we expect. So far, it's been on the list of 'someone should look into that when we find more time', but if she's raising the dead in Amber or Avalon or helping Moire, she moves further towards 'problem to be taken care of'."
"No reason it can't be both," Brennan says-- dangerous and in danger.
"I guess I'll add it to the list of explanations for this Montage, along with some weird Tir-like time-trick, some weird time-bendy Sorcery by Dara, some overly complex scheme involving cleph or Dara or both as shapeshifters, an unknown older relative of Montage, an unknown older shadow of Montage, and the ever popular, 'Something so bizarre none of us have figured it out, yet.'" Out of respect for Martin, Brennan does not add, "Montage was never really dead," to that list. He sighs and scrubs a hand through his hair, "So that's where all that stands. I left Firumbras in charge, and he seems pretty solid, but all hell is poised to break loose. Could be breaking loose even now."
Picking up on Marius' mention of his recovery, Brennan asks quietly, "How are you, Marius?" Eye contact is strong enough to be no bull-sh!t, hopefully without rising to aggression: Talk to me, Marius, now or later.
Marius laughs. It's loud and not unkind. "How the hell should I know? I went mad, which is no picnic, and then I was bled almost to death. Would've been the death of most people.
"The weirdest part is that I felt like being mad gave me a way to retreat and survive that second thing. I like to think that not everyone would've survived those Gatwegan bleeders. But how am I? Dunno, but I don't think that which did not kill me has made me stronger, yet..."
Brennan nods, sadly. "However you did it, Marius, I am glad you survived. If you want to talk about it-- now, later, whenever, I won't press-- I'll listen."
"Maybe some other time," Marius says, and he's not being unkind, but as Brennan well knows, this is not the venue. "My sister has arrived," he adds by way of changing the subject. "I'll have to talk to her later. Perhaps at Edan's demonstration. Do you have it in mind to do something similar with our knights?"
Brennan nods his understanding and, as promised, drops the topic.
"You anticipate me, actually," Brennan says. "I took the liberty of informing our Knights that their presence at Edan's elevation tonight is not optional, but mandatory. A show of solidarity and shared purpose, if not shared command structure, seems appropriate. But that begs the question-- and I wish Lilly were here, too-- how do we three operate without stepping on each others' toes? What do we want our Order to be?
"Here is what we have: Twenty-six men and women. We have officers, Jovian's flyers to take care of until he returns, at least one former peer and a crop of extraordinarily talented commoners. Their common thread is they all followed us from Amber to about as far a human being can exist, and they did not merely live to tell about it, but thrived all in different ways from their separate talents." Brennan is counting Dignity, but not Cloudeater. "We also have three Knights Commander, for now. Four, someday, when Jovian comes back, and who knows how Saeth will fall out." Brennan makes a 'later' gesture for that.
"So here is my vision: A small, tightly knit order of experts, of fixers, of talent, of lieutenants. An order of force-multipliers in numbers small enough to move quickly through Trumps, or by ship, or embed into larger operations. Or even, some of them, delegate smaller tasks to. Moreover, not three-- or four or five-- mini-orders each reporting to one of us, but a shared pool of talent for all of us. How does this strike you?"
Marius nods as he takes all of this in. "Madness is a refuge, and Jovian will take a long time to come back from it. Lilly is supposed to be joining us tonight or tomorrow, so we can hash things out in more detail, but this seems a good plan to me. You and Lily will be field commanders and I'll handle court matters for the nonce. And possibly act as roving ambassador, as needed?"
"For the nonce," agrees Brennan.
"I wanted to talk this over with you and Lilly before fully committing to it, but Edan has a very different vision for his Order: Something closer to the nature of a brigade, larger but more regular than what I proposed. But when I asked him what help the Ruby he could offer, he requested a small cadre of officers to help train them, which is," Brennan smiles, "the role I saw our people filling. And when I return to Avalon, I'll want a similar force for the Maghee. Here's what I was thinking...."
Brennan runs down his initial ideas for loans to Edan and people to bring back to Avalon. The most vital, as he sees it, are Sir Crow the cavalryman and Sir License the strategist for Edan-- they'll be ideal for the skills Edan wants to bring out his his Order. And Dame Pebble for her organizational skill which Brennan is convinced the Maghee value highly enough, and Dame Jennet because he expects a lot of the Maghee lore will be buried in their music. And frankly, it's a shot in the dark, but something similar might be true of Firumbras and his weird, ancient Paris, Tir and Rebma. The rest all have their purposes, but those four Brennan considers critical.
Brennan does not insult Marius' intelligence by pointing out that each group is drawn from the candidates of multiple Knights Commander, or that those two cadres are still less than half their total force, leaving ample resources for he and Lilly to draw on at need. But he does ask what he thinks of the selections.
Marius nods and hmmms and generally indicates his approval for the plans Brennan has in mind. "Do we know what order Firumbras belongs to?" he adds as Brennan winds down. "I mean, presently. Are we looking at another Order that we might want to liaise with across kingdom lines? Or that Edan might?"
"Well that's a damn good question," Brennan says. "And there's Fletcher's Order of the Unicorn and Martin's Order of the Card, too. But Firumbras... I don't know what order he was part of, or if his presence constitutes a re-foundation of it. About all I know of his past is that he was born in Tir, as far I know," he pauses just a beat to let that one register, "was a contemporary of Rebma's Lir but that Cneve was apparently after his time-- if those are two different people-- and that he was a member of the Court of King Carol of Paris."
Marius blinks a couple of times at the news that Firumbras is a Tir native.
Brennan gives a characteristic frown of frustration. "The only reason I haven't picked his brain clean is a lack of opportunity-- turns out, keeping the Maghee forces in line is several full time jobs."
"They do seem to be something of a pain in your ass from the way you tell that story. Firumbras is too interesting of an asset to be left with them for long. And in any case, it sounds as if there's a climax to their bardic history imminent. Assuming they survive it, what do you mean to do with them?" That they will need something done with them or to them and that it is Brennan's to do goes without saying on Marius' part.
Brennan touches his nose when Marius mentions the Maghee's bardic history-- it's one reason he wants Dame Jennet on hand.
"Pains in my ass they may be," he says, "but they've survived centuries in the crucible of Avalon on their own, with no support, no patronage, no lands, not even part of the Protector's network of alliances. There's a certain bone-deep stubbornness that appeals. What can I say, they grew on me. And I feel a certain debt to Cameleopardis' memory, so I'll do what I can to provide them a home. Their bardic history, as you say, has already provided them a new island-- one whose ruins fascinate me-- although Benedict may have something to say about that.
"And when the day inevitably comes that the Moonrider War enters its next phase," he shrugs eloquently, "They'll owe me a favor."
Brennan eschews a lot of their Uncles' habits, but one he cultivates is having multiple reasons for doing things.
"Ah, so you mean to follow Bleys' method of accumulating favors for later alliance purposes," Marius says with a smile. "Perhaps we should appoint you roving ambassador as well. Let's hope we can leave them for the Moonriders and don't have to spend them on the Eye in Pyramid."
Brennan smiles as if to say that even Bleys has some good ideas.
Then the smile dims and goes out. "Eye in the Pyramid," he repeats. "That's the second time I've heard that phrase today. Regenlief used it before, too. This is another name for the Klybesians, yes? What does it mean, exactly?"
"It's the sign they use in some parts of Shadow. Like this," Marius says, and sketches a simple device in the air with his fingers.
"Obviously some of the art is much more elaborate."
Brennan gives a non-committal grunt, obviously trying to scan more than five centuries of memories for something he hadn't even been aware of, all in the space of a few seconds while talking to Marius. "Ominous-looking thing. Is it supposed to be a real place, a real structure, do you think?"
Marius shrugs. "Not one that I know of, but if I made it my symbol several millennia ago, I might build one along the way. You're from the pyramid culture, I'm sure you have better ideas what they symbolize than I do."
"Human sacrifice, where I come from," Brennan says with a dour expression. Brennan's dislike of his home shadow is well-enough known that his reluctance to say more is probably not surprising.
Crossing the space, Celina stops short a respectable distance from Merlin, being very aware of his worries about physical moments. Celina turns her biggest smile on him, "Well, if I promise not to squeeze hard, can I hug you? I was getting worried at your absence."
"Of course, sister," Merlin says. Celina notes Silhouette arriving in style.
Celina winks at Paige and moves gently into Merlin's arms. She holds him, solidly, for too short a time by her lights. Then she steps back, tamping down her emotions. "I was more worried than I thought. It is good to see you, so good, I'm not going to quiz you about your interesting times in absence. Thank you for allowing the hug. Anything Rebma should know about in the short term?"
Celina gives a small hand wave to Signy to show everything is all right now.
Merlin's response to hugs is perhaps less enthusiastic than Celina might hope, but he has learned the skill of hugging back. "Nothing that will not wait until tomorrow. I meant to work on Trumps, but I have been busy. I have not had time." Merlin lowers his voice. "My father had me scouting for the Moonriders."
"And you are here now as testament as to how skillfully you scouted them and brought back news," Celina nods. She totally isn't going to think about having to rescue a hostage of the Moonriders. Nope. "I still would like to see how you portray me in Trump, so when you have time, I can pose again if you like."
"I will be glad to. I plan to take some time to create Trumps, if the allotment of duty permits. I think we will need more of them than we have." It's not exactly a confession but perhaps an honest assessment of whatever he's heard from Corwin and the other elders he's been speaking to as part of his assignment. "Have you spoken to our father recently?"
"Yes, we have spoken more in the past few weeks, than my entire life," Celina answers in kindly tone. "And I'll have a word with him before the formal Family gather to hear about Vialle's womb. Any particular reason to ask?"
"I am told," says Merlin, "that it is the sort of small talk question I should ask at events like this. Contrary to family habit, it is not a particular attempt to elicit special information you may have from him due to your rank." That little smile would be a smirk on anyone else's face, but Merlin is doing his best to hold on to his eternal choirboy expression. He lowers his voice. "I have been told that Vialle and Random are reproducing after the Ordered manner, that they will remain the same even though they have reproduced. I am not sure I truly believe this yet, because it does seem sometimes that we inherit heavily from the essences of our parents."
Celina chuckles with a big smile at Merlin's description of 'small talk'.
Celina resists the urge to gather him in again. His thoughts about essence of parental flavor have echoed in her head often enough. "Well, here's the thing, while Random and Vialle will be the same, they will find they must change in response to the responsibility. They will not turn out to be good parents if they do not change. I expect that is something Oberon did not know or disagreed with." She glances at Signy, Silhouette, and back to Merlin. "I am changing. I am not the girl I was. There will be a time soon when I have to think much more about having an heir myself."
Merlin's eyes get big for a moment before he remembers either not to do that or that she really doesn't think she's going to produce an heir by fission. "I see." He lowers his voice and moves in a little to ask, "Do you have a sire in mind for the heir?"
Celina keeps a poker face, "Well, I've narrowed the possibles to nine but the only one I've asked turned me down."
"Is there any potential sire you require my assistance in gathering in to ask?" Merlin says, very seriously.
Celina tries to avoid getting choked up, and gives herself a moment to absorb Merlin's generosity. She sets her face and body language to be as clear as possible, she sees the humor of this subject working both for and against her and her brother, so she keeps a steady, welcoming stance. She leans a couple finger-widths closer to him, "If someone does get onto the list, that I think you would be able to inspire to see things my way, I will certainly come ask you. As yet, no one that formidable is on the list," Celina takes and squeezes his hand in lieu of a big kiss in front of everyone.
Probably the hand squeeze is better than the kiss. "What qualities are you looking for? I am not an expert in dealing with Ordered reproduction, but I would like to help you with this if I can. Also I am given to understand that is the right of a brother to challenge a man who dishonors his sister. If this applies to the man who turned you down, I will gladly undertake to restore your honor."
"You have been schooled in Amber ways, but not Rebma," Celina replies warmly and easily, "Most women would allow a brother to assist such dishonor to Family but not undertake the responsibility alone. And there was none in this case. I knew it was an 'outside chance' when I asked the man, as his heart is lost to another. I thought to elevate him in status where he might more easily impress his Love. It was not to be."
Celina continues with much pause, "But certainly since you show an interest, I will share my thoughts and we can plan things together. The first quality I want," she moves to the sideboard slowly enough for Merlin to see she wants to share away from close ears, "is a great intelligence and curiosity. A flexibility of mind, if you will. Secondly, a sense of common worth in balance and order, something I might call intuition in the rightness of things."
Celina looks to see what Merlin makes of these first two comments.
Merlin progresses along with her, his voice staying low and soft, not that they couldn't be overheard but certainly letting that be a signal that he's not interested in anyone joining their conversation. "Do you mean to seek the father among people in the more distant royal bloodine? I mean, I myself am too close even if I had the qualities you seek, but cousins in the half blood seem to be acceptably distant for siring. Not that many of them will necessarily have the intuition you seek."
Celina shifts the line of discussion just a little, "I had not thought Family was acceptable to anyone. With Khela I did not know what I had gotten into. Half-blood cousins such as?" She wonders what half-blood means to Chaos.
"Robin and Vere are cousins in the full blood and their fathers seem to accept their liaison. Though I am given to understand that they are not allowed to spawn." Merlin's mouth goes crooked while he considers this. "But I was thinking more of Cambina and Brennan or ... Martin and Folly. Martin has been allowed free reign with his creation of heirs, and Folly is of the Royal blood, though Julian only shares a father with Random. So half-blood, is how this was explained to me. And the same distance between Corwin and Random, for him and my mother."
"I see. That is a variant on how I have heard the term used. I think I like yours better." Celina smiles at the wall, but it is Rebma she sees, a City that should be saved from broken love. "We are so much alike will we ever have the time?"
Celina looks at Merlin and realizes she just spoke out loud. Too many nights of wicked dreams catching up with her, she thinks.
"You have the qualities. I noticed when first we met. Then I found out we were sibs and the fire went out. The prowess of Family and the dazzling range of ways I am drawn to various 'half blood' therein is not much of a cure if Rebma finds no Order in it. But since I'm not making progress with my heart these days, perhaps I need an arranged marriage scheme. Or maybe my fate lies elsewhere." She feels Merlin will only be confused if she continues to talk about her heart and hopes. She then tries to change topic.
"No news on your mother's schemes?"
Merlin is many things, but adept at hiding his discomfort with regards to human or nonhuman birthing practices is not one of them. He is relieved to change the subject. "I am hoping Prince Benedict has some news of her, as I think he meant to look into the matter. Or else Lilly or Fletcher might be here as his envoys and know the state of the investigation.
"Given that she is out there, I worry that I do not see Meg here."
"Indeed," Celina does not put three-quarters of her worries about Meg into the word. "Let's ask Fletcher then." She motions towards him. "He just glanced our way."
Merlin nods. "Of course."
Conner is pouring a half shot of pale green liquid carefully down the back of spoon to form the last layer of his drink.
"Good day, Ossian. What is your artist's opinion on this?" Conner asks with a satisfied smile gesturing at the finished cocktail.
"Considering that you haven't mixed fluids to make precisely the nuances you would want, the color composition is... striking. Layers carry a lot of symbolism, which can be a feature or not." Ossian smiles "But compared to most drinks it definitely passes as a work of art. Personally I like that the work is perishable, it adds to the value that we can only see it until you have consumed it."
The he shrugs, lifting his wine glass. "There is not much to do with wine."
"Aside from consume it of course." Conner observes. "There is a place for utility after all." Conner carefully raises his glass so as to not disturb the layers. "I've always liked making these. You have to pour each layer so carefully. It is almost a meditation if you focus right. And if the creation doesn't relax you, drinking it may." Conner chuckles. "Some say you should insert a straw and enjoy each layer separately. I much prefer to see how all the flavors mix. To your health." Conner salutes Ossian and knocks back his drink in a few long swallows. Conner sighs in satisfaction and takes out a handkerchief to dab away a bit of bright red grenadine from his face. "So, what have you been up to since I've seen you last?"
Ossian grins. "I and various cousins have been involved in a hunt with the Klybesians. Who is hunter and huntee is quite unclear."
"You have also encountered them, haven't you?"
Conner shakes his head no. "Aside from Signy's man Tomat which has joined the Archivists of Rebma, I've had no direct contact with the Klybesians." Conner takes his cocktail glass and pours a bit of white wine into it. "I suspect some of the information brokers I've used in shadows to have ties or dealings with them though."
"I think it is safe to assume they have." Ossian says glumly. "When I came to Amber I learned to look for traces of Brand in everything in my history. Now I have learned that I should have looked for traces of the damn monks instead."
Conner swirls his cocktail glass and watches the grenadine bleed into it. "They have been that intertwined with your life?" Conner asks. "What have you learned?"
"That they pop up anywhere in Shadow where any of us have been. That they kidnapped me when I was newborn. And that they have found their own way of cross shadow communication." Ossian’s mouth twitches.
"Kidnapped you wh..." The rest of the sentence is lost as Conner's jaw locks. Conner takes a deep breath and drains his wine glass. "So they were responsible for your fosterage in Abford? I wonder if they knew of Meg and if Huon knew of them. Perhaps Abford needs a closer look."
"We don’t know how much of my upbringing they were responsible for, but yes, Abford. And Huon is known to have had contact with the Klybesians. " Ossian says. "Do we even know who placed Meg there?"
"I do not believe it is known." Conner replies. "The orphanage was gifted with a bracelet of Rebman make to pay for Meg's upkeep. With Martin claiming Meg as his daughter, he would be the most likely suspect but his announcement of her parentage sounded like it was newly discovered knowledge. Dara lays claim to her as well. Perhaps it was she." Conner shrugs. "Another knot in the skein. What is this about cross shadow communication? Have they Trump artists among them?"
Ossian lowers his voice. "I bet they are trying to make Trumps. But we found a computer network... Not my expertise that, but it seemed to run between shadows."
Conner's eyes widen slightly. "A cross-shadow computer network?" He echoes. "That must have been years in the making. It is difficult enough getting computers to talk to each other within the same shadow. But the real question is how you would send a signal between them without a real power behind it. Natural shadow paths might work for a conduit. I would love to see this for myself."
"We will investigate this, most likely." Ossian says. "But somehow I suspect all their shadow paths are not natural. Have you heard of any interference from the monks in Rebma?"
Conner shakes his head no. "I've been traveling so I don't have the latest news but there was nothing along those lines when I left. Frankly we were all more worried about whether Huon would continue to behave, if Moire would appear out of nowhere with an army, or if the Trtons would suddenly turn on us at the commands of the Dark Mother."
"The Dark mother? I don't think I have heard of her. Although I and Brita saw some strange things when we were down there."
"I am not sure she exists honestly." Conner admits. "Tritons call themselves Sons of the Dragon and revere the Dragon of Rebma as their Mother who bestows gifts of power and knowledge upon them. They abide by the treaty laid down between the Dragon and Rebma and seek to keep the peace." Conner pours a bit more wine for himself. "There is apparently a sect considered heretical by most Tritons that worship the Dark Mother. They essentially feel that believes that the current worship of the Mother is weak and corrupted and that weakness is why they lost the battle with Rebma. They also believe that blood sacrifice is the way to worship the Mother Dragon. We are concerned that there are members of this sect among the Tritons in Rebma but really have no way to sniff them out aside from hope that self policing still works among their community."
Ossian frowns. "I am confused. Do you mean that the Dark Mother is an aspect of the Dragon? Sounds troubling."
"Unclear at this time." Conner shrugs. "It could be a separate entity, two personalities of the Mother, or a delusion of the Cultists who need a justification for disobeying."
"By symmetry, where is the Xanadu dragon?"
"I suspect that Xanadu has inherited the Dragon of Arden in the same way that it now links to Tir. I am told that Broceliande has paths to Arcadia and other parts of the Deep Green." Conner looks across the room at Paige. "We could always ask her Warden, I suppose."
Signy looks up from her spot over at the bar as the two new arrivals make their entrances. A crisp, white linen shirt is tucked into black pants, their understated formality only moderately marred by the rather well worn leather boots. Her wavy hair is pulled back and perfunctorily secured by a black leather band.
"Hello, Silhouette. It's been a while."
Silhouette dips her head, smiling softly. "A lifetime, as it were. You're looking far less... sooty than last we met." She punctuates this with a wry grin.
"Have you continued working in the forge? Or have our more proper cousins dragged you from its soothing flame?"
From across the room, Marius, who is deep in conversation with Brennan, tries to catch Signy's eye. He does not break free to join her, but he has clearly noticed her and would like to speak with her at some point.
Signy catches the glance from Marius and gives a quick smile in his direction to acknowledge the request before turning back to Silhouette.
"Yes, I've been working on things that don't need a forge so much," she says with a slight air of sadness. "Finer work sometimes gives me a headache."
She produces a small, silvery sphere and hands it over to Silhouette. It's unadorned, but faint lines show how it can be spun so that you can shift along almost any desired axis. "I was working on something for Ambrose. I think I've got most of the mechanics, but making it actually do what's needed requires something with magic that for some reason I cannot seem to quite grasp."
She sighs quietly, before dropping the problem. "What have you been up to lately?"
Silhouette sits down, holding the sphere delicately in her hand. "I've been on a reconnaissance mission for the Crown. Crazed cults, sludge monsters, and technomagically-inclined monks. The usual for our family, from what I gather. Quite invigorating." Her voice remains decidedly plaid.
She draws a jeweler's spectacle from her jacket pocket and puts it on. Fascinated, she turns the sphere over, examining it closely. "Exquisite work," she admits. "Are you employing some sympathetic or theurgic principals to invoke the magical response? One issue most Constructs suffer from is mana-bleed. They simply cannot produce and store the power require for their designated task. An issue exacerbated by the dampening effects of our local."
Signy gives a mirthless grin. "I have a feeling I know of the monks you're talking about."
She hooks a chair with her foot and scoots it a little closer, and perches on the edge, her knees close to touching Silhouette's. "So I'm using a technique that's termed 'close my eyes and wing it.'"
She gives a rueful smile. "I sort of ended my apprenticeship before I got to that part, and am trying to teach myself a lot."
Silhouette offers a soft smile, nodding. "If you have not done so already, I strongly advise you to undergo the trial of walking the Pattern at the earliest opportunity. The insights provided by the experience have been invaluable to my work. The ability to perceive and, thus, overcoming restrictive paradigms will be benefit you greatly."
Turning the sphere over, she runs her fingertips over its surface, almost sensually. "My arcane training may differ from yours, but I may be able to help. What was your intention with this artifact?"
Signy resists the urge to flinch.
"Oh, I've already had that pleasure. I don't regret it, but I certainly don't intend to repeat the experience any time soon."
Silhouette glances up; her forest-shadow eyes flickering with empathy. "Indeed. The experience is most... transformative."
She turns her attention to the sphere in Silhouette's hand.
"It's basically a translation device, where somehow the magic that is bound to the originals allows you to translate writing. The language is...weird. Hard to understand, I've spent a lot of time learning it and I am probably able to speak it at the level of a five year old. Maybe six."
She pauses, for a second, before finishing. "Unfortunately it's Magic, so it has to be kept well away from places like Xanadu or Rebma."
Silhouette nods, smiling. "Utilizing magick for computational linguistics can be both a boon and a burden. On the positive side, it can provide you with rapid - and generally accurate - symbolic and syntactic overview of the language. However, the core of magick is rule-based, thus it operates on statistical and rule-based translation methodologies. This approach while effective is invariably flawed, as it ignores the linguistically subtext. Cultural perception shapes linguistic typology and idioms, as well as produces anomalies. Only by understanding the culture's nature can you interpret their language's hidden truths. This becomes increasingly significant with written language, as orthography may vary between samples due to personality and physiology."
She offers the sphere back to Signy, "How many samples of writing have you assessed with this item?"
Signy gives a defeated sigh. "None. I can't quite seem to get it. I either bind... something, but the translation reads like a drunken game of Telephone through a dozen Shadows or more that's been written down by someone that's never seen a pen before, or it just slips away at the final binding."
She shrugs.
"I figured this might be a good place to talk to some of the others in the Family, and see what they have to say."
Silhouette smiles faintly, "Of course. But, please, seek me out after this. I would enjoy experimenting with this project. Perhaps together, we can unlock the sphere's potential, yes? I believe it is an important concept and can be most useful in our family's current endeavors."
Signy nods, thankful that she's at least got one other person that might be able to help her out with this.
"So, what about your adventures, like your run-in with the Monks? Have you had a chance to talk with Brother Tomat about what you saw and experienced? The Queen says he's here as part of the Rebman retinue, but I just heard about it now and haven't had a chance to see him or let him know I'm here."
She feels a couple of knots that she wasn't aware she had in her shoulders start to unkink as the tension of not having any real progress on Brand's Wheels starts to lift a little.
Silhouette touches her arm, as light as a warm breath. "You must strip yourself of your worries, Signy. They do nothing but poison your mind and blind you to Enlightenment."
The touch lingers for a moment before retreating. "As to your question, no. Ossian and I have only just returned. I also had Circumstances to address. So, I have yet to relay our findings to anyone. As for Brother Tomat, I am surprised that he has been brought into the Queen's confidence. I would have thought he'd executed by now. Or incarcerated, at the very least. It is dangerous to have him here."
Signy blinks a couple of times in surprise. "I understand the need to make sure that he is who he presents himself as, but I'm a little surprised. I've not seen anything that would make me doubt his word to me...."
Her voice trails off, inviting Silhouette to fill in the details that she may have missed.
"This brotherhood appears to understand cross-Shadow communication," Silhouette says. "We cannot be certain of their full capabilities. I do not know if that would extend here, but the chance exists. Also, if the Klybesians reacquired him, Tomat will prove to be a source of information about the Family, even if he does not wish it."
She dips her head, "I've only met him briefly, though. Perhaps he has earned your trust genuinely. Perhaps things have changed while I was away."
Signy looks surprised at this.
"Cross-Shadow? How? Tomat taught me Sorcery, do they have people that powerful?"
"Of that, I am uncertain at this point," Silhouette admits. "Their technology is rather peculiar. But they appear quite capable, indeed. The computer network Ossian and I encounter was generations beyond the shadow we were in, for example."
Signy sighs, before turning back to the more immediate concern. "I'm afraid that he would have been in trouble no matter what, just because of his link to my father and I. His being here keeps him away from them, and hopefully safe."
To this, Silhouette lightly nods. "I empathize, truly. My own arrival was wrought with paranoia and distrust, considering my previous dealings with Huon. However, I was eventually brought into the Family's confidence. For that reason alone, I shall bow to your better judgement concerning Tomat."
She leans forward, "Forgive me, but I am still unclear as to your association with him."
Whatever will be said on that topics at least momentarily in abeyance. The conversation between Fiona and Paige appears to have paused for a moment, and then there's a shimmer in the air and Fiona is bringing through Raven, Jerod, a young man whom nobody recognizes, and last, but not least, Brita. They're all straight from the field: dirty, blood-streaked, and stinking of exertion and carnage.
At the same time, the door opens and Ambrose lets Gerard wheel in. Gerard takes in the scene and says, "Well. Looks like you've arrived just in time for dinner."
Signy looks at Silhouette, and shrugs. "It's a long story. The summary is that he was my tutor and the closest thing to a friend I had for a long time, and he also brought my brother to me against the Monk's wishes."
She sighs.
Silhouette nods, "Then you owe him a debt. And not even the gods can interfere with that."
Signy looks over, noticing that her brother seems to be no longer the center of attention in his current circle. "If you don't mind, I actually do want to catch up with him."
She glances at Brita, remembering the chain they brought back from rescuing the Queen, and makes a mental note to chat with her at some point tonight as well.
Silhouette follows her gaze and then offers a polite smile. "Of course. Give him my regards. As always, it is a pleasure speaking with you." She lightly graces Signy's hand with the lightest touch. "May the forge within burn bright until next we meet."
Last modified: 30 May 2017
