Busy Starday

A page arrives with a note [for Paige]. When she opens it, it's from Grant.

Lady Sommers,

All is prepared and we can sail on your command.

Grant

Before she can respond, she feels the familiar stirring of a trump contact.

She smoothes her hair instinctively, questioning not for the first time today how much she really took off, even as the smile forms on her face and she answers, "Yes?"

"It's Random. When you send a calling card, you really send a calling card. What can I do for you?"

Paige detects a slight time difference. He's somewhere slower. And she doesn't see a background. Either it's dark, or he's preventing her from seeing where he is.

"One assumes the King keeps himself busy," Paige says with a gentle smile and a slight bow of her head. "It seemed easiest for everyone until I have time to get you to sit for me.

"I'm planning on bringing the children along the sea route, and was figuring to ask your opinion on granting me and mine sanctuary." She bites her bottom lip for a moment before continuing. "It's presumptuous to assume that formal oaths, no matter how binding, would allow me to just drop these problems in your lap.

"In turn, I was wondering if you have a job opening, maybe in your judiciary" she chuckles, the smile in place again. "Or something else that you need done. I'm fairly flexible on a health plan, but vacation time and paid holidays are deal breakers."

"Well, I normally offer holidays and vacation time, but if it's a dealbreaker if you have them, we'll write them out."

"I was speaking the other way around," she chuckles genuinely, her eyes tracing his face.

"Right now we're informal as we can possibly be, but we've got a crash coming. Amber starts migrating to Xanadu and all of the sudden we'll have all the complexities of Amber plus a bunch of people who were already there. Yeah, I could use a Minister of Justice. Why don't you take a look and talk to Soren and the locals when you get here and then you can tell me what you need to do the job right?"

Behind Random an electric light suddenly comes on, back-lighting his head and shoulders. He indicates to someone else that they are to wait.

"It's a deal, and suffice to say, you're probably making a friend of my father by keeping me busy enough that I'm not galavanting off trying to make friends and influence people in Arcadia."

"My oath is binding, Paige, bring your kids here and I will protect them from their other relatives, to the best of my ability."

"I've never questioned it, Uncle," she shakes her head. "Just whether it was fair to dump my problems on you."

"Did you ever spend much time in Amber before? It really was different, and Xanadu has that same characteristic. If nothing else, it's the safest place we've got, even if not everyone likes the decor."

Paige nods to the first. "I spent a good bit of time in Amber as Rein's student and as to Xanadu, you could almost taste it on my first trip... in anticipation if you will. I'm looking forward to it."

He looks interested. "You'll have to tell me what it was like when you were here before, but not now."

"So, if you can return the Trump any time soon, I'll make it a present to my brother and he and I will travel together. Well, as together as two separate ships might be."

"You may want to combine your efforts. He'd be a damn good protector, I bet. Pull me though and I'll let you have the trump back." He's smiling again.

"Yes, that was my thought too," she admits. She extends a hand for her Uncle and once there's contact, draws him to her.

"Isn't there someone waiting for you there?" Paige asks with a tilt of her head.

"Soren. He's my ride back. I can't come here without a quick stop to see the Missus, but Soren needs me back there in 15, so I've gotta fly. Not literally, of course." He hands her the card. "Damn. I keep forgetting how cold the floors are here." The King is barefoot.

"Thanks for the call, really," she says holding his hand for a moment when he returns the card. She impulsively kisses him on the cheek.

"You need to borrow a pair of slippers?" Paige chuckles. "I left the fuzzy pink ones in Frisco and haven't been back in a decade, so...." She shrugs. "I guess I could call a page to scatter rose petals in your path or something."

She walks him to the door, a question waiting behind her eyes, but never asked as he leaves.

Having spent the previous day in Amber gathering up the beginnings of a staff and attempting to convince Clue of the wisdom of moving to Xanadu to help her, plus a little deal making (and doctor visits) with Ever, Hannah is happy to be back in Xanadu. A few things have gotten crossed off her list, even if she managed to add many more. The 'DOCTOR IS OUT' sign comes down, and she checks her room for notes.

There's a big cake and a note. It's a tall layer cake sitting on a shiny metal stand under a glass dome. Each layer has a different color frosting.

Hannah laughs and reads the note.

Taking note that Conner is back, she sets aside trying to reorganize lists or schedule her day until she talks to him. She heads down to the kitchens, hoping to catch him at breakfast.

Hannah comes in wearing a full black skirt with black lace around the bottom edge. Her top is a bright blue wrap, tied at one side, with flaring sleeves. It brings out her eyes, and leaves the star tattoo at the conjunction of her collarbones fully exposed. When she sees Conner she smiles and twirls around once. "What do you think? I finally bought something... new!" Her black boots are shiny, but look built to survive some wear. She's got her hair pulled together in a ponytail at the base of her neck.

Conner is wearing Amber style dress in his usual shades of green. He looks up from an iron skillet filled with large pieces of somthing fried and nods in approval. "Quite fetching. The top really brings out your eyes." Conner gestures towards a chair. "Please, join me. If you haven't eaten yet the cooks are currently frying up bread and assorted seafood. Fortunately, after quite some time in Rebma seafood for breakfast is no longer odd." He chuckles.

Hannah sits down with a smile. "I can always eat. So you were in Rebma for awhile? What's it like?"

"Wet." Conner deadpans and then he lets his trademark smile slide over his face. "The fact of living underwater changes just about everything. Oddly the big things like breathing water and swimming as much as walking become instinctual such that you barely notice them. In fact the only trouble you have is if you actually stop and focus on how you're doing it. Then you become like the centipede when asked how he controlled all those legs." Conner chuckled.

Conner takes a large bite out of his frybread to give him a moment to decide what to say next. "It is a cold place compared to the surface." Conner goes on. "Not really uncomfortable but never the feel of the sun on your face. Just the occasional warm current from a thermal vent. Else it is much like Amber. Palace at the top of the hill, commoners and garbage at the bottom. She is ruled by a Queen and the women are in charge so that changes some of the dynamics. Incidently if you ever need someone to discuss the attitudes of a superior gender to a lesser one I've been on both sides and so might offer a balanced perspective."

"Oh, I like my unbalance perspective for the time being, I think," Hannah admits with a grin. "What is the connection between Rebma and Amber, though? Queen Vialle is from there, and Prince Martin is from there - who else? I'm just trying to understand it's place in the interaction of the nations that seem to be in places of power."

"Rebma is referred to by many as the reflection of Amber." Conner replies. "In one very important sense this is true. At its center lies a Pattern, and it is truly a mirror image of Amber's Pattern. Rebma was ruled by a Queen Moins for so long that they too seemed to have an Eternal Queen as Amber had an Eternal King. Now neither of us can claim rule eternal." Conner falls silent for few moments and focuses on chewing a bite of fish.

"To answer your direct question, Oberon and Moins had a dalliance and the result was Princess Llewella. Oberon formally claimed her as a Princess of Amber. Celina is also of Rebma the child of Corwin and the current queen of Rebma, Moire." Conner informed Hannah. "Jerod is the child of Prince Eric and Princess Rilsa of Rebma. So as you can see for two nations that largely remain aloof allies, there is quite a bit of intertwining."

Hannah nods. "As usual, that just gives me fifteen new questions, but I musn't get that derailed. I really wanted to plow your mind for ideas about the City, and share mine, and make sure we're thinking the same thing before I start messing around." Hannah then brings Conner up to date on Clue and the other staff she's gathered. She's counting on them to handle everything and keep it moving whenever she's out of town. "It's just become obvious to me that there is simply too much going on to really expect any one member of the family to be here all the time. I haven't seen a way to keep someone 'in the office' even with a group of three - so building a strong staff seems like the best path to follow. Do you think it's a good idea - and that the King will accept it, non-family members having some say over how his City progresses?"

"So long as the people in question are both competant and loyal, I do not see any problem." Conner replies easily. "Even under Oberon non-family held positions of importance and most of my Aunts and Uncles had an understudy to step in when the shadows beckoned or the duty of the King was laid upon them."

Conner cocks his head to one side. "Are you simply interested in gathering staff or do you have radical ideas you are hoping to implement through the ones you choose?" Conner smiles at her.

Hannah smiles very slowly. "I hardly know what would be radical," she says. "I'm going to give the King his chance to let me know what he wants, and I certainly wouldn't work against his wishes. Without a doubt I have my own ideas about how a community should function, and that's what made me open my big mouth to begin with. The priority is to get a good staff that understands what the biggest priority is; building for a boom population by working with the land as it is to fulfill needs, instead of trying to impose needs on the land. As much as that's possible. You fight with the land, the land will fight with you."

Hannah shrugs, and says in her most understated manner, "Food may be a problem the first winter."

"Only if Random doesn't lay in enough of the family to provide trade with shadow." Conner replies. "We kept Amber going pretty well with just a handful of us going out and trading well. I suspect keeping up with Xanadu should be equally doable assuming the needed family are available. That is the sticking point of course. I suppose it would be too much to ask that all that arrive here bring lunch to share with the populace eh?"

Hannah shakes her head. "No, I don't think so, not for the family. That's just exactly the sort of thing everyone with any experience at it should be doing."

Her lips form a thin line while she looks for words. "I look around, and I hear about wars and troubles and I see no organized effort to make sure the trade happens that needs to happen to have enough food here this winter. It worries me, a lot. Are there animals in the woods? I hope! I hope the fishing's good. But I don't know that. I'm real nervous. Everyone seems scattered, and I can't be here constantly just yet and I've got no experience with trade... ships? Does it all seem completely disorganized and scattered to you? Maybe I'm just not used to... uh... kingdoms?" she asks hopefully, meeting Conner's eyes.

"I think perhaps you are not used to Patterns." Conner replies evenly. "Have you felt the difference between here and Amber?" Conner closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "You can feel it in your bones, Hannah. Amber is dying and Xanadu lives." He opens his eyes and again gazes at Hannah. "Ships show up that happen to have trade goods. People with the right skills and attitudes are drawn here. All roads to lead to Xanadu. Well, those that don't lead to Parys anyway." Conner chuckles and then sobers once more.

"I think the prevailing belief is that left to its own devices, Xanadu will thrive or least muddle along with minimal prompting from us so long as nothing is allowed to harm it." Conner says simply. "Amber has many enemies out there in Shadow, Hannah, and Xanadu is weak. No army, no navy and Castle Xanadu just isn't the fortress that Castle Amber is. That is why there is so much focus on out there. Our enemies could be upon us long before we could ever get things in place here. Of course, that is no reason not to get things in place here. It is good that you are willing to think on that."

Conner leans forward a little. "You may find that you will eventually serve Amber best by leaving for a time. Shadow travel with a little imagination is the key to all the resources you will eventually want to bring here. I suspect you will get very annoyed, very quickly if you constantly have to depend on others to bring you what you need. In this calm before the storms, I'd get a little travel under your belt." Conner advises.

"I'm going to do that," she nods in agreement. "Gerard it going to teach me, real soon now. Just need to get the ball rolling on these projects before I can go. But you know.... I know Xanadu is quite powerful. I have felt it in my bones, almost knocked me right over - but just because a place isn't powerful, that doesn't mean it's dying. I haven't felt anything in Amber that gave me the impression it's dying. Now, in relation, if it used to feel there like it feels here, I can see why people might think that.

"Tell me why everyone believes these things - about Xanadu just taking care of itself and all," she grins, and then tries to put on a serious face that's quite obviously an imitation of Brennan.

Conner's grin grows wider and his first words are lost in a snort he can't suppress. "Brennan's face looks wrong on your body." Conner chuckles. "Kindly put your own back on so I may continue."

Hannah giggles. "Well, he's very good at... thinking."

Either way, Conner brings himself under control. "Why do we believe these things? You've walked the reason we believe these things." Conner says simply. His eyes lose focus a bit and look past Hannah. "It strips you to your core, reveals what is at your center, and stamps that reality on you full force." Conner blinks a few times and looks back at Hannah. "It has done the same for Xanadu. That castle is there not because an army of masons worked tirelessly for years but because Random felt there should be a castle there. It has electrical power because the King needed someplace to plug in his amplifiers. He envisions a port city on the bay and lo and behold one is already forming without any organization on anyone's part.

"I do not claim to know the workings of Random's mind in general. I certainly don't know what he had in his mind when he created all this." Conner announces. "But I do know that certain things are hardwired into this land. Without interference, they simply will happen. Perhaps not in the best way, perhaps not without difficulty but it will happen. Random has set the beat. Our only choice is whether to play in harmony or discord." Conner smiles. "Of course, descants seem to be more in the family spirit."

"Okay, so, all in all, we're just hoping Random remembered to put in an order for food for the winter? I've got to talk to him next. So tell me your ideas for the city, or should I just put you first on the list of people they should check with when I'm not here?"

"Well you can put me on the list, but I am on my way into shadow as well. Quite soon in fact. As for my ideas," Conner shrugs. "I've never designed a city from the ground up before. I think it must start with roads and streets though. If we can establish the main throughfares before everyone shows up and starts building wherever they drop their stuff, we could establish some order on the whole process. I can't imagine Random's city ever settling down into a nice grid but it is a start." Conner smiles.

"Sewage management first thing," Hannah opines, not looking too thrilled with the prospect. "And Lucas seems to think I'm in charge of districting..."

She sighs, and puts on a smile anyway. She shrugs. "You aren't running off to a war too, are you?"

"I hope not." Conner smiles back. "No I am delving into mysteries on the behalf of loved ones that may in time come to be prime concerns of the family. My heart pulls me in two different directions and my mind seems unwilling to play tie-breaker. Like as not, I'll flip a coin on my way out of the city." Conner admits.

Hannah nods. "I got my mind to play tie-breaker, but I don't recommend it. Leaves you with nothing else to blame things on, not fate or anything. But then, I didn't think I'd get through the family ritual without having to chose a definite path, so I'd really already made my decision before I took my first step. Those things are never easy, though." She grimaces in sympathy. "I hope your coin serves you well."

"I find in many of these situations that my coins tend to be double headed anyway." Conner grins once more. "I hope you find what you seek swiftly enough that the other choice still lays before you. Farewell, Hannah."

"You take care, Conner. The universe seems to be in an unpleasant mood these days," Hannah says in parting.

After checking in with Steward Vent on the progress of the move, Garrett makes his way up to the King's office, hoping to find Gilt Winter. It's been several days since he's spoken with the King and he reckons he'd better find out what his father wants him to do.

Steward Vent is blandly, pleasantly, soothingly, and uncommunicatively talkative with Garrett. Everything is fine, thank you for taking an interest Your Highness, is there anything I can do for you? Let's get out of the way of these busy people here...

As he walks away, Garrett muses that he'd rather be helping to carry the boxes than getting the brush-off. "Such is the life of a prince," he mutters to no one.

Gilt, on the other hand, is easy to talk to. He provides Garrett with his father's trump, instruction in the use of it (if Garrett needs it), and suggests he head out onto the balcony for a bit of privacy.

Garrett thanks him and takes his suggestion. On the balcony, he breathes deeply of the mountain air, then looks down at the trump. It's similar to the one Folly had, but now that he has to use it himself, he regards it more closely. It strikes him how young his father looks on the card. For a moment, Garrett looks away, wondering what Random had been like at his age, at eighteen - almost five hundred years ago? Garrett shakes his head. He probably doesn't even remember it.

Then Garrett concentrates, breathing deeply and steadily. Picture to motion to person, that's right, isn't it? That's what Garrett strives for as he mentally reaches through the trump.

Shortly, Garrett finds himself looking at his father's image in motion and then the King is speaking to him in his head.

"Hey, Garrett! How you doing?" Behind Random, Garrett can see the great waterfall, but he can't hear it.

Garrett breaks into a grin, relieved that the contact worked. "I'm well, sir. I thought I'd best check in. It's been several days since we've spoken."

"Has it? Well, good of you to take initiative. It hasn't quite been as long here, of course. Did you reassure your mother that I hadn't replaced you with an alien robot pod-person doppelganger?"

Garrett looks a little confused. "Uh, no. But I reckon I reassured her that you hadn't had me thrown in irons or brutally butchered," he grins. "Not that that made her feel kindly towards you or anything. She still thinks you stole me," Garrett adds candidly, though it's clear he doesn't share her opinion.

"She's a little short on vision. You're my kid. It'd be silver chains and loving butchery."

Garrett grins. "Anyway," he continues, "I wondered if you had any orders for me. If not, I think I'd like to take the long way back. I hear Lady Paige and Lord Edan are leading a party to Xanadu and I'd like to watch how they shift the shadows."

"OK. You know those cards could let you come right here, but I'm happy to send you via RedHead Transport. You won't be able to do the shadow shifting like they will, but you can see how it differs from what you learned on the last little trip."

He pauses. "Oh, and don't do Paige. Didn't turn out well for the last of your cousins who tried it." He raises an eyebrow.

"Do, sir?" Garrett asks uncertainly.

Random sighs. "Donovan said you didn't need 'that talk'. Don't f*ck Paige, OK? It would be a bad idea."

Garrett's face turns multiple shades of red. "No! I don't... I mean, I just ... I hadn't even considered...," Garrett sputters, seemingly more embarrassed that Random thinks he might not know those facts than that he might act on them. After a breath to regain his composure, he says, "I won't, sir."

"OK, then. Carry on. Except, don't." He smiles. "Come see me when you get here."

Garrett nods once. "Thank you, sir. I will," he says, then adds, "Before you go, though, have you heard anything from Folly yet? Or Martin?"

"Hmm? No. Shouldn't expect to, either. It takes time to learn sh!t from Dworkin, and they've been gone for a couple of days. Even if they go out where clocks are slow, they won't be back for a bit. Assuming he even finds them. My money's on her finding him, after. Maybe by calling from here."

Garrett nods, reassured.

Random pauses for a moment. "Do you need them for something? They're likely to talk to me nearly first."

"No. Just wondering," he smiles. "Well, I reckon I'd better go pack. See you when I get there."

Garrett looks into the card blankly for a moment, then asks sheepishly, "Uh, how do you turn this thing off?"

Random smiles. "Stop looking at the card. Turn it or cover it. I once broke a contact by walking off a pier. Don't do that, it's just an example."

"Better off a pier than off a cliff, I reckon," Garrett grins. "Good day, sir," he nods and covers the card with his hand.

Shortly after lunch, a page brings Paige the following note, written in an unfamiliar, rather chicken-scratchy hand and carefully folded rather than formally sealed:

[OOC - Gotta get me one of them seals, Garrett says every time he writes one of these!]

Lady Paige:

I hear you will be gyding a ship back to Xanadu soon. I would like to sail with you, if you'll have me. Please let me know when and where I should meet you.

Prince Garrett

The page returns with a piece of rolled linen parchment tied with a green ribbon...

Your Highness,

The children and I will be happy to receive you at any time you wish. If your desire is to speak privately, I can also arrange a sitter. We are currently taking lunch in the Ocean Room and await your response.

Lady Paige

Being one never to pass up an invitation to eat, Garrett sets out for the Ocean Room. He enters and looks around, then approaches Paige's table almost shyly. "Lady Paige? Good afternoon. I'm G... Prince Garrett," he introduces himself, obviously not used to adding the title to his name.

Up close, Garrett looks even more boyish than when she saw him at the funeral. He's about the same height as his father and thinner than Martin, but quite wiry. His dark brown collar-length hair appears ready to fall into his bright blue eyes - his father's eyes, or Martin's, Paige recognizes. He's wearing a slate blue shirt of a cut that his brother might wear, but with the sleeves casually rolled up to the elbows. His relatively new-looking jeans are tucked into obviously old-looking brown boots that appear to be quite comfortable for the wear. He still looks a little awkward in his position as Prince, but he's come a long way from when Paige used to see him in the stables.

"We've met before, Your Highness" she says as she rises and offers him her hand.

He clasps it and bows. "Of course. At the service, yes?" He can't recall if she means anywhere else, besides the stables, of course.

"These are my children, Lady Brooke and Lord Leif," Paige begins. "Children, this is Prince Garrett, the king's younger son."

The twins are dressed in white tunics. The boy, Leif, is wearing a necklace of beads and an animal claw of some sort. The girl, Brooke, is holding her hair back in a clip with feathers and something else Garrett can't make out. Leif looks up at Garrett and then back at his dinner. Brooke watches him carefully for a minute and says "Welcome, Garrett."

"Good afternoon," Garrett grins and nods to the children.

"Will you join us?" [Paige] offers.

"Thank you, m'lady. I'd like that." He takes a seat between Paige and Brooke. "I understand you're to be leading one of the first groups to Xanadu," he says.

"Yes, my brother and I will be leading the fleet and a few private ships," she agrees. "Looking for a ride?"

"I am, yes. I could've gone back through a trump, but I thought it best to observe some more shadow shifting. And to be an extra royal on board if you needed one," Garrett smiles as he helps himself to a roll from a basket on the table.

"I don't know how much you'll be able to see without initiation, but you're welcome to watch Edan and myself, I'm sure," she answers popping a bit of fruit between her red lips.

"As to being an extra Royal, you'd be The Royal, Your Highness," she chuckles. "Me? I'm just a Prince's daughter... you're the Prince."

"Heh. No pressure there," he grins while buttering the roll. "As for the shadow shifting, I reckon it's best to watch different styles. Kind of like sword work. I've seen Martin do it already. Now I'd like to see how someone else does it."

"Well, you're more than welcome," Paige answers. "You should probably sail with me, and if you'll allow, I'd love to do some sketches for a Trump along the way."

"Really? Of me?" Garrett exclaims. His excitement fades a bit, though, as he remembers the usual complication. "Can you do that if I haven't walked the Pattern yet?" he asks, hoping this won't change her mind.

"No, I can't craft a Trump until you're initiated," Paige answers. "But making a Trump, once you have, will be easier if I've done some preliminary sketches."

He nods, seeming eager to start the process.

She takes a sip of her wine and asks, "Have you spoken to the King about traveling with us?"

"Yes, I talked with him on his Trump this morning. He offered to bring me there directly, but I thought I could learn more this way. He was fine with it," he answers, though his cheeks inexplicably grow just a little bit pink. He fills a glass with water from a nearby pitcher and takes a sip.

Paige smiles but doesn't call him on it. "No one's taken the sea route yet, so it might be a bit of an adventure."

"My whole royal life's been an adventure so far," he grins. "This shouldn't be any worse."

"Have you been to sea yet?" she asks as she folds her napkin over the plate, walking to the eastern windows and the view that the room is named for.

Garrett leans his elbows on the table, watching as the light from the window brightens her profile. "No, I haven't," he smiles wistfully. "My grandfather used to take me on the ships he worked on sometimes when I was a lad, but they were always tied up. I've never been outside the harbor."

"Well, we won't be pushing if we've most of the fleet following, so between Edan and myself, I'm hoping the we'll be able to keep the seas calm," she reassures him.

She turns back, the light diffused through her shortened red locks, and smiles. "We hope to leave in the next few days, so whatever you need to situate, I'd do it soon."

"All right, I will," he says after swallowing a bite of his lunch.

"Will any of your family be joining us?" Paige asks gently.

Garrett smiles ruefully. "Not on this trip, I'm afraid," he answers. "Donovan needs to stay to tend the stables here and Mum...," Garrett shakes his head sadly, "she refuses to go to anyplace HE is." By the tone, the 'he' in question could only be Random.

"The men in your line do have a tendancy to elicit strong responses from woman, Garrett," she chuckles. "We tend to love them or hate them, with seldom a thought inbetween."

With a wry smile, Garrett files that information away for his own future relations.

"I'm sure you've heard the rumors of the feud between your brother and I, and I promise you, that's well past now," Paige explained. "Odds are in favor that I might become your Father's Minister of Justice in Xanadu, so it wouldn't do for me to be at odds with the Heir Presumptive."

Garrett smiles at her. "I reckon whatever happened between you and my brother is your own business. I don't put much stock in what I hear through the gossip circles," he responds diplomatically.

Paige offers him a nod of thanks that's echoed in her eyes.

He changes the subject. "Minister of Justice, eh? You did that here too, didn't you? Back during the war?"

"Yes, and it will keep me about to ensure that the twins aren't pulling your father's new kingdom down around his ears," she chuckles.

"They'd have to be mountain goats to do that, I think. The castle's built right into the rock," he grins, clearly unaware that the twins could be mountain goats if they wanted to be.

"You never know, cousin. You never know," she chuckles.

Paige willingly trails off into Garrett's descriptions, mentioning that she had visited Xanadu before the castle was there.

Garrett asks about her memories and, in turn, tells her of his own journey to Xanadu with Martin, Folly, Lilly and Celina - a trip that seems so long ago now. They exchange tales and pleasantries until the servants clear the table, then Garrett excuses himself to go pack.

It's been about a day since the four cousins went their separate ways to pursue their avenues of attack against Huon. When they arrive at the place agreed for the meeting, they find Ambrose already present with several boxes on the floor near a cleared table where an empty silver bowl sits. He greets the newcomers as they arrive, with special friendliness to Brita, and waits for the others to tell him about their progress before discussing what the apparatus is for.

Brita returns the greeting with warmth. "Cousin Ambrose! You are Prepared for your Scrying. I have had No Luck with the Sketches as Yet."

Ambrose smiles at her. "That's all right. We'll do without them."

Ossian arrives with a portfolio and his sketch book under one arm, and carries a rapier (sheathed, stupid!) in his hand. He is dressed in his usual blue and white, but with an Abford cut. He looks ready to depart, if necessary.

"I managed to make a Trump sketch of the Guild Hall. It is frail, though, but I hope it will suffice. There are some interiors too, but I can't guarantee their exactness." Ossian gives the portfolio to Ambrose.

"Thank you." He takes the portfolio and examines it briefly until Meg comes in.

Meg arrives carrying a basket and dressed in her original clothing from Abford.

"Oh good," she exclaims at first sight of the gathering. After greeting everyone she stands back and pauses theatrically.

"I've had an idea," she announces. "I don't know how helpful it will be, but something Bleys and Brennan said inspired me. Would objects from Abford help?" she asks Ambrose. "Because I've got a few." She holds up her basket.

Ambrose grins. "Excellent! That will definitely help me. I should only need one or two to establish the sympathetic connection. Show me what you have," he suggests to Meg.

As she digs in the basket, Ambrose produces a slender trump case from his pocket and draws out a card. "This," he tells the others, "is Huon." He shows them the card, which depicts a stocky fellow in navy and white with short-cropped hair and a heavy brow. The card is old, and a little soft with age.

Ossian takes a closer look. Did Dworkin or Brand make this Trump? If it is by Brand's hand, can Ossian see any style changes relative to Brand's newer works?

Brita examines the card over Ossian's shoulder.

Ossian, but not Brita, who is less familiar with Brand's works, can deduce it was made by Brand's hand. It's more photorealistic and less impressionistic than some of Brand's later works.. It also has the name 'Huon' written in Thari on the bottom, which none of his later works that Ossian is familiar with do.

As they examine the card Meg pulls from her basket an apple core, a cloth and small stoneware pot.

"What does he seem like?" she asks with her hand still in her basket.

"Trouble," Ambrose opines. "My brother says he killed his own brother and was banished from Amber for his trouble, all so long ago that he was assumed dead. That's the problem with assumptions. They are frequently proven wrong." He takes the items Meg hands him and looks them over. The stoneware pot he sets aside first, but the cloth and the apple core he examines longer, finally settling on the core.

The core, now a few days old, has been carefully dried to preserve it.

"I have a knife from my kitchen as well," she offers.

"Organic material is best for this spell," Ambrose replies.

"Are there any other questions you need to ask me before I begin?" Ambrose asks the others. "Once I start the sorcery, I will need to concentrate on it, and any questions not related to the spell will have to wait until after it's complete."

"How will we know if it's gone horribly wrong and we need to knock you unconscious or something to prevent it getting worse?" Meg asks with concern.

Ossian smiles and waits for Ambrose's answer.

"Brita is likely to know first if the sorcery goes wrong. She's seen it performed before. For this sort of spell, there's not likely to be a backlash, but if there is, you'll notice the castle burning down before you notice anything wrong with me."

Brita nods and prepares to watch the ceremony carefully.

Ambrose begins pulling components out of the various boxes and tossing them in the silver bowl. "Brass is better for the elemental associations, but this was what I could get easily here," he explains to Brita.

One of the items he pulls out is a duplicate of the trump of Huon, but Brita doesn't think it's a trump-active duplicate. Ambrose performs a ritual that is similar but not identical to the one Brita recalls Nanna Clarissa performing to let her communicate with Bleys and Fiona.

When he is done, the components, including the sketch of Huon and the apple core, have all been cast into the bowl and the contents have been set on fire. In the smoke rising from the bowl, Ossian, Brita, and Meg can see a room with three people in it, from the view of the fireplace.

Meg recognizes the room at once. It's the council chamber in the Guild Hall.

Meg nods with satisfaction and the tension in her stance changes tone.

She and Brita and Ossian all recognize the man in the uniform speaking with two others as Huon. Meg doesn't recognize the dark-haired man in black nor the green-haired, green-skinned woman that Huon is speaking with, although the others recognize them, if only from the funeral.

Meg cranes her head to get a better look at Huon.

"Hm!" Ossian quietly exclaims.

"Well, well, well," Ambrose murmurs quietly. "Dara's son. I wonder what he's up to."

Brita examines the stance of those in the room. Does it look tense or odd in any way? Her response to Ambrose is a very low "Careful. Everyone is Someone's child."

Ambrose's concentration on the spell is such that he can't turn to look at Brita but she can sense from the shifts in his movement that he's considering her words.

There are drinks out and Huon appears to be chatting with Celina and Merlin. There's some laughter.

Meg doesn't appear to have done more than glance over the other two people until Ambrose's comment. She looks to Ossian and shrugs.

"Who's Dara's son? And is that a Rebman? They're green aren't they?" Meg asks quietly.

Ossian turns to Meg, whispering "Cousin Merlin. And the Rebman is his sister Celina. Both are Corwin's children.

"If they are on Huon's side we have lost many of our advantages." he adds. "We need to know what they are doing there.

"Merlin's Trump is in the Trump Booth. If they are hostages, he will not answer now, however."

"I daren't add the aural component to the spell. It's hard enough doing it without risking them seeing us," Ambrose says tensely.

Huon rises and offers Celina his arm. Merlin also rises and speaks to them.

"Cousin Vere would probably be able to Read what they are Saying. I Cannot. If they Leave the Room, Can you Alter the Spell to Recall the Words that were Recently Spoken?" Brita asks Ambrose softly.

Ossian raises his eyebrows. He turns to Meg and shrugs.

Merlin opens the door and Huon leads Celina through it as Ambrose answers the question, "I'd have to construct a new spell to do that. It would take some time. It might be easier to trump one of them if someone has their cards. Celina or Merlin, I mean."

"Do we?" Meg asks. "Would Huon be able to tell we were trying to contact them?"

"We have Merlin's card a few minutes walk from here." Ossian says "But unless Merlin is much better than me at hiding such things, Huon will notice if they are in the same room. Then, Merlin is a shapeshifter...

"Let's find where Meg's family are first, before we decide what to do."

Ambrose dismisses the spell. "The Principle of Space," he says to Brita, as if this explains something.

To Meg, he adds, "I don't know whether Huon could tell or not. Trumps aren't my area of expertise. But the reports I have of him don't make him a magical powerhouse. In this family, though, that's relative. Do you want to try the trump or look for your family? What do you think, Brita?"

"I Recommend using the Merlin Trump," Brita responds. "Uncle Huon will not Know Who is Calling if Cousin Merlin is Unable to Hide the Contact and the Contact may give us Valuable Insight Quickly. We have no way of Knowing if Cousin Meg's Family is even still in the Area we are Searching. Without In Depth Knowledge of the Person we Search for, it could take a Significant amount of Time to Locate them." Brita pauses. "Of course, Cousin Merlin may Ignore our Call."

Ossian nods. "I think we should at least check the dungeons of the Guild Hall first, if that is possible? Since Huon has not left, I wager Meg's family is still in Abford, at least.

"Then I can talk to Merlin. I'll need to know if you want me to try to talk to Huon. If Merlin thinks he is friendly." Ossian looks at Meg.

"I want to see them," Meg says. She clasps her hands tightly. "Just to see if they're still alive."

"Have we a sketch of the dungeons?" Ambrose asks. "I can do it without, or try, but it'll be easier if I have one to work from."

Meg frowns and shuffles through the pile of drawings she made to help Ossian for something she knows isn't there.

She doesn't find it.

"I think I don't understand much of your sorcery" Ossian says with a smile. "I'm sorry, I have no sketch of the dungeons. How dangerous is it to do your scrying without the sketch?"

[Claire! If you think they did make such a sketch, feel free to delete Ossian's lines]

Brita is quiet but comments, "To me, it would be like trying to do a Sketch Trump of a Place you have only had Described to you."

"No more dangerous than any attempt to twist the fabric of the universe, really," Ambrose replies to Ossian. "The danger of being caught is limited. If we are, we can just cut the spell. A sorcerer of sufficient competence could trace it, but I doubt Huon has access to one. We're playing the odds here. The important question for our kinswoman--" and he nods to Meg "--is how long the spell will take me to perform. And if by some mischance, Huon caught wind of our work, whether he'll have moved the Carpers, if they're in the dungeon in the first place."

"I think I've misunderstood." Meg's voice is tight. "I thought we were looking at their homes, not the dungeons. That's why we have the plan. I thought you needed one place, and then would find others relative to it."

"We can do it either way. It's just faster if we have the sketch, and with our kin there with Huon, I think time is of the essence," Ambrose explains to Meg.

[Ambrose is going to do the spell for whichever location you guys decide. Go ahead and argue it out without waiting for him.]

Ossian looks at Meg and waits.

Brita is also just waiting. She has made her inputs and awaits the decision of spell or trump.

Meg turns back to her pile and pulls out one drawing. It shows a large house. It is not drawn with particular skill, or attention to overall aesthetics, but quite some effort has been put into capturing the details of the doorway and window lintels. An architectural study perhaps?

Meg pushes it in front of the others. "That's my son's house. I drew that wall a bit wonky, I'm not an artist like you all are, but that's it. There's not one quite like it in town." She looks hopeful.

Ambrose takes it and begins working on the spell. A minute later or so, Meg is looking at her son's home.

Jenna and Leslie are preparing dinner, looks like. The girls are helping. The place does not appear to have been ransacked. The women are wearing their normal daily clothes, as are the girls. Both are wearing their wedding ring.

There is no sign of Peter or Jacob.

While Ossian and Meg don't know the women or children, they can tell that the situation seems to be relatively normal.

An inner core of tension with in Meg is released. She doesn't make a sound as tears slide down her cheeks.

Brita watches Meg for a moment and then notes to the group, "This Tells us that Cousin Meg's Family is Alive, but does Not Explain Much. I think we must still Contact Cousin Merlin."

"I can hold this spell for about a watch, maybe more," Ambrose says. He doesn't appear to have any difficulty holding the spell and talking to them, but he's speaking slowly so he can concentrate. "If there's anything else in the house you'd like to see, let me know now. Otherwise, let's call Merlin and find out what's happening."

Ossian looks at Meg, but stays quiet.

Meg smiles. "It tells us more than that. I've lived through the town under siege, with everybody afraid from moment to moment. This is not that, so there's hope. Let's talk to Merlin next, but if we do come to sneaking in, things will be easier." She wipes her eyes. "Thank-you," she speaks directly to Ambrose.

"You're welcome," Ambrose replies.

Barring further questions from Meg, Ossian, and Brita, he dismisses the spell. "Let's call Merlin and find out what's going on in Abford."

Ossian nods "Let's go." he offers Meg his arm, then suddenly comes to think of something.

Meg takes his arm.

"Em. Uncle? have you met Merlin since the debacle at the masquerade?"

Meg looks on, and waits for the answer.

Brita cocks her head and raises an eyebrow at Ossian. Her glance indicates that she is wondering why he would bring that up now. She remains quiet, however, as she awaits Ambrose's response.

Ambrose shakes his head. "We saw each other at the funeral, of course. I don't know if he knows I've sworn to Random since then." He takes a breath and asks, "Should I drop out of the mission?"

Ossian shakes his head. "I don't think so. It's just that... Merlin is a little twitchy. I'll explain things to him. My guess is that he does not want to be in Trump contact with you, though."

Brita gets a look of 'oh, of course!' on her face as she follows the others towards the Trump booth. She notes, "I could Contact Cousin Merlin, if necessary. Would he be Concerned with my Call? I cannot Think he Would..."

Meg is too polite to show her understanding of why Ambrose calling Merlin might be a problem but doesn't ask for an explanation.

Ambrose finishes gathering the things he needs, including Huon's trump, and is ready to follow them through the trump (either Merlin's or the trump to Abford).

[Taking the liberty of moving you ahead here because I know what's about to happen.]

Ossian fishes out his Merlin trump and attempts to contact his cousin. The trump contact does not go through; either Merlin is blocking, which Ossian doesn't feel is the case based on experience, or his mind is otherwise occupied.

Meg frowns in concentration as the attempt is made, willing the connection to form.

The fastest way to get to Abford now is the place trump.

"He isn't answering. I don't think he's blocking me though." Ossian looks puzzled.

"I think we should go there and look for ourselves."

"Yes, let's," says Meg, and tucks her basket under her arm at the ready.

Meg ensures the bundle of sketches and maps goes with them. And checks on the comforting weight of the kitchen knife in her basket. I should have said earlier, but she is wearing her own Abford clothes, and checks that she's neatly arrayed.