Lunch time finds Jerod conservatively dressed for Parisian standards, still in his colours, and sitting at a polished walnut table located on the edge of the cafe's perimeter, closest to the spring and the trees that mark the edge of the park.
He has arrived early to take in the sights of the city and watch the people, letting his senses filter the reality around him and mark it as Paris, a place of motion, sight, scent and sound that calls to one when the time comes from without Shadow to return.
And it is a place to think on new events, and new additions. Cambina's choice of companions was surprising in its remarkable predictability. Trust his sister to pick a possible black sheep for a companion. Jerod smiles as he considers the varying possibilities. Was Brennan just a companion? Was he just convenient and useful? Was he something more to her?
He takes a sip of his wine. More he thinks. Lovers of convenience are easy to come by, and fewer entanglements are to be had if they are not family. Immortality brings too many years to lug old baggage around. Casual family acquaintances are never good for either side and Cambina was not one to accept rigid social conventions that prevented her from enjoying what she wanted. She would have done well in Rebma.
Jerod watches as the people pass by, picking out the relationships as they walk by. What about Brennan? What does he choose from this? And how? Despite his age, Brennan was still very much male. Would he feel the need to define his position relative to Jerod where Cambina was concerned? The male tendencies towards territoriality, the need to ensure dominance against a possible rival for Cambina's attentions?
Then his smile broadens and he takes another sip of his wine. That's just what his mother would have him consider. She had trained her son well. In any event, he would see what the future held. So far, his sister seemed to be happy and that was all that mattered at the moment.
He finishes his glass and motions to the waiter for the next round, who now brings two glasses and sets them on the table. His service is precise and well-practiced, with a generous motivation from the pouch of coins Jerod had tossed to the cafe owner to acquire the best service and the best table. Jerod glances at the sun to gauge its position. She was anything if not punctual. Just enough time for the wine to breathe.
Just as he looks up, the sun is eclipsed by Cambina, who slides into the other seat without waiting for Jerod to rise.
"I see you've taken to the cafe lifestyle, brother. I hope one of those two glasses is for me."
"When in Paris..." Jerod says with a smile. "That and our good uncle and king has arranged to have the Bourdeaux valleys included in his domains, well one just must enjoy the lifestyle. I'm just waiting to see how long before Lucas arrives and tries to re-write the social scene.
"To the lifestyle..." and he raises his glass and sips before beginning.
"So...fancy meeting you here. Here to take in the sights of Tir? Or have you decided to run off for a private vacation with Brennan?"
There is nothing condescending about Jerod's questions, nor does he have any particular concern about Brennan...to him, Cambina is a sister and she can easily take care of herself. He's just curious as to how she's doing.
She drinks her wine, delicately but deeply. "Some of each, actually. Tir is, maddeningly, visible from Xanadu, but the nights have been too overcast to reach the fabled city. The stairs start from the top of a cliff above the falls. Very scenic. Brennan offered me a luxurious cruise from Xanadu with Corwin at the end of it. How could a girl refuse?"
"With an offer like, I'd doubt refusal could be possible." Jerod says. "I must remember to try something similar with Carina next time.
"And how have you been? Life has been extremely busy on my end."
"Oh, you know. Women's work keeps me busy. Most people are trying to settle down and have normal lives. Not me, of course. I wouldn't know what to do with one."
She smiles. "I was never one to do what people wanted, and by 'people', I mean Father. Some days I think we're alive to deal with world-shaking issues, but we're not well enough constructed to do anything but shake the world. What do the all-powerful do if they finish their jobs?"
"We assume the job ever ends. Perhaps if we shake the world just right, it might drop back into place." Jerod says. "Or just, the place we want it to be at that moment. I wonder if perhaps that was what Atlas had in mind when he decided to shoulder the world."
"I think Atlas thought he'd never fall so he didn't set up any contingencies for the aftermath."
He motions to the waiter to bring out the appetizer array that he has selected, covering a range of dishes that he knows his sister likes, plus one or two that he is partial towards. "An interesting choice of travelling partners you have." he says, selecting a wrapped nugget of foie gras. "Is he convenient for the time, or is there something actually there?"
His expression is one of curiousity as opposed to nosiness.
She raises her eyebrows. "Fallacy of the excluded third, dear brother. I may not have decided yet."
"You're assuming I didn't consider that possibility, dear sister." Jerod says with a smile. "The number of options given your circumstances is considerable. You might not even find him conventient but merely a tool for vengeance perhaps? A necessary ingredient in some scheme to further your own power base? I'd rather not have a Q&A session for the next twenty minutes going through them all so I gave you the benefit of the doubt and assumed a gentle, caring and compassionate tone to your relationship."
Then he leans forward slightly. "Or was I mistaken?" he asks, just a hint of a rogue grin on his lips.
"Father would have had him sent bravely leading a company of equally doomed men down the black road. For the good of Amber."
"I'm sure. But dad is dead, dead for the good of Amber and I'm not talking to him." Jerod replies.
"That's good. I'd hate to think that what Vere has is contagious." She shudders. "I'm glad I don't have his gift. At least with Tir, I know that it's a prism for my inner demons, rather than a focus for the unquiet dead."
"I've been around his dead." Jerod says. "They can provide some interesting information if you listen right. Or more precisely, if he listens right."
"But do they have agenda of their own? 'If thou didst ever thy dear father love--Revenge his foul and most unnatural murder.' That's all great unless it's Brennan receiving the burden of guilt." Cambina scowls.
"Thankfully I'm not Hamlet so I don't have to contemplate the waste of time that is vengeance." Jerod says. "Unless your boyfriend was spending his idle hours a long time ago murdering a particular Rebman lady, I doubt very much if he's on that particular ghost's agenda, nor on mine.
"As for having agendas, everyone's got one. It's only a problem if the one they have conflicts with mine. Which naturally brings me to my agenda. I think it would be wise to advise you on a few things before I depart again."
The next bit is a bit summarized because there's a great deal to say and I'm not sure we can spend a month doing it in detail. Basically Jerod wants to let her know about the following:
a) doing the path from Gateway to Paris
b) the meeting with the Chancellor and the "invitation" to go to the
northern areas to find Thalia, as well as find out about the spear.
c) the attack from the Triton and his little incident with Llewella.
d) Khela
She listens, and is clearly taking mental notes. "It's too bad our diplomatic corps was hopelessly compromised by being a haven for wayward redheads. This is a puzzle that could do with some pieces from a decent intelligence operation. Do you have any resources in Rebma?"
Jerod shakes his head. "There was never time to develop any, and I doubt that Grandmother would have allowed me to develop any kind of intelligence network had I been so inclined at the time. Males with knowledge are dangerous to the established order. I will see what comes up when I return. With luck, Grandmother may decide she can wind me up and point me in a particular direction hoping I'll act like a typical male."
"Either way, just so you know in case there are problems."
Beyond this, Jerod has little else to provide and is more interested in how she is doing and whether there is anything that she might require of him.
She smiles. "No, nothing. You know I'd grumble about you being out of touch all the time even if you were to try. Don't start now, though, I'd assume it was a distorted shadow."
"Then the next time I drop you a line, be sure it's not that Shadow." Jerod says. "I've put a proposal to Corwin and he's agreed to it."
Jerod explains the communications role he's envisioning and he put forward. "Once I'm done here, I'll be heading to Xanadu to hit up Random."
She nods. "I wondered what plan you had to explain all your travels. I recommend that you hit him up in the back of his head. It's the softest. I think he'll go for that, but I don't know if it will get him anything. The way Xanadu is growing, they'd be better off ignoring Rebma and Paris for a while."
"I foresee it as being useful for the future, as opposed to the present. It costs Random nothing to agree, short of minor incidentals in clothing, but it can come in handy later." Jerod says. "And as a family, we are all quite willing to invest in a venture if it costs us nothing at the outset. But it gives me a slight advantage in my dealings with those around us who may be a bit less...amenable to peaceful co-existence."
"As long as you're happy."
"And when have I ever been happy?" he says with a grin, motioning to the waiter.
"Don't make me answer questions that you don't want to know the answer to, dear brother."
[Note, the exact time frame here is foggy. It's at least the morning after Brennan's and Cambina's arrival in Paris, possibly more. Whatever is convenient for Blake/Jerod.]
Brennan wakes late that morning, following his natural inclination, rather than the duties that press on him while he's in Amber. It's a working vacation, yes, but it's something of a vacation regardless, and he has none of the Order of the Ruby details to worry about, nor the endless press of small decisions concerning the Xanadhavian Exodus, important enough that they need to be made and coordinated, but not important enough to bother Random with every little detail.
He feels no guilt at all over sleeping to sunrise and beyond.
When he does rise, it's with a langourous, joint cracking stretch and a slow puttering around his guest quarters to dress for the day in the style of Paris. Whether or not that style includes a swordbelt-- and he suspects it does, with Corwin's influence so strong in the place-- he still wears his blade.
That morning is spent in a slow wander about the premises of Castle Paris, absorbing not only the accidents of its construction, art, and mundane nature, but occasionally questing out with his Pattern-based senses to appreciate the essence of it as well, and comparing to Xanadu and the Amber that was as best as he is able. [Note: No Sorcerous inquiries.]
He has no set pattern to his wanderings or destination in mind. He's taking himself wherever his feet might lead him, to whatever his ears and ears-- and eventually nose, since he hasn't had a meal yet-- might find interesting.
[On the other hand, this is an opportunity for Blake to put Jerod in Brennan's path.]
The tempting odor of freshly baked bread laden with butter, spiced meats recently cooked and the subtleties of newly cut fruit have no doubt conspired to make themselves available to Brennan's nose during his wanderings as he finds himself close to the conservatory, about the same time that he hears the strains of violin music.
A reasonably well travelled individual would no doubt figure out after a time the origin of the music, and since Brennan is reputed to be very well travelled, his identification of the music as one of Bach's Brandenburg concertos is swiftly forthcoming. Despite the lack of a harpsichord for the main elements, the solo player covers the concerto very well and must have certainly practiced it.
An investigation of both sound and scent reveals a conservatory suitably accoutered for royalty and with an abundance of sheet music and instruments to suit whatever fancy may drive those interested in following a musical talent, a talent that is currently being pursued by Jerod.
To one side of the room, laid out neatly though certainly out of place here are a set of tables loaded with foodstuffs suitable for royalty, and perhaps not so surprising given the volume of food that a Prince can consume when they set their minds to it. Brennan will discern that there is more than enough for Jerod, plus anyone else who might show up. There is also a beverage tray with a silver service for coffee and tea, iced containers for juice and a small flask of something that is very slightly tinged green and upon close inspection appears to be...fizzy? Ah, no, ginger instead.
Jerod is facing the entrance as he playing when Brennan arrives so he will notice his arrival. He does not however stop his playing, intent upon a successful conclusion to the piece he is working on and so he continues to play.
When Brennan finds the source of the music and the aromas, he is well enough mannered that he stands and listens appreciately, rather than disturbing the performance by fixing himself breakfast.
Although Brennan has never been to what he refers to as Flora's Shadow, he's certainly familiar with the style of music-- enough so that, if Jerod looks at Brennan's hands, he'll see the fingers of both hands flexing slightly, as though picking out key combinations on a phantom piano or a harpsichord.
Brennan waits until Jerod is finished before speaking. "Outstanding, Cousin," he says. "I recall you saying that you played, back in Amber. I don't think you mentioned how well, though." Now that Jerod is finished, Brennan feels free to fix himself a breakfast suitable to the morning, and proceeds to do so.
"The jam sessions of the Regency regrettably did not lend themselves to classical music." Jerod says, picking up a white cloth and carefully cleaning the violin before putting it away. "Though occasionally they could be directed towards pieces that could benefit from more traditional instruments."
"The good influences of classical music have yet to be exhausted," Brennan says. "Blues incorporating fugue stylings, for instance.
"How went your trip to Rebma?" he asks. "We haven't had a successful attempt on Tir-na, yet."
Jerod collects a glass and pours himself some of the greenish liquid. "Then let us hope your first trip to the dream world is less arduous than mine below the waves. Broken ribs and threats from family are never fun when you're out to explore. A real pain, if you get my drift." and he smiles as he settles into a very comfortable chair, heavy and well padded. A plate of assorted foodstuffs sits on a small table beside it within easy reach.
Brennan completes his gathering of breakfast with a large mug of coffee, and settles into a chair of his own. Jerod can recognize the posture as Brennan's characteristic sprawl, but he might not be able to note the comparative lack of tension from just a few days or weeks ago.
"I've already been to Tir-na once, a long time ago, and I'm under no illusions," Brennan says quietly. "But broken ribs aren't much fun, either." Brennan glances around the room, his eyes picking out obvious reflective surfaces such as large polished pianos or actual mirrors. He quirks an eyebrow at Jerod before continuing with carefully chosen words. "The Prince and I considered how to get word to you, but there was no good way. Not enough Trumps to go around."
(Assuming Corwin's previous comments are a sign of reasonable security on his part, one would assume there are a minimal number of actual mirrors in the conservatory (ie: none), though reflective surfaces are certain to be more common. You can only dull up stuff so much before everything gets just downright ugly and the conservatory is definitely not ugly)
Jerod smiles at Brennan's caution. "Paranoia is good, but only to a point. If one of my female relatives is intent upon monitoring us then short of being in an enclosed and fully darkened room, there is no way to avoid detection. Given our proximity to a place of Order, I will presume we are safe. Corwin is many things but dumb isn't one of them. Should my relatives be monitoring us now and foolish enough to believe they can withstand his wrath for daring to spy on him...well, they're old enough to learn from their mistakes."
He takes a sip of his drink before continuing. "What could be so important as to require the Prince to even consider contacting me? He is under no delusions as to the likelihood of me accepting a call from him were a Trump of me to become available for use. It must be of some import indeed."
"Civil war, Family involvement, and other natural disasters," Brennan replies. "Is your family roster up to date? There are cousins above and below the waves, new and newly active. One of them is Llewella's."
"I am aware of Khela's existence, yes." Jerod says. "She may have been involved with the pummeling that Conner received, as well as a Triton attack on myself. Those incidents remain to be verified as to who owns the cupability. Since Llewella has gone out of her way to threaten me not to retaliate, I must assume Khela is not one of our more upstanding family members. I will speak to Martin concerning Khela's past to see what it might hold.
"Not that Llewella's threat will stop me if push comes to shove. As for the threat of civil war, that has been noticed, but until Khela can be checked we cannot be certain she is the possible motivator behind it. It could be someone else."
Brennan's eyebrows raised at the mention of Conner. "It's good that you know about Khela, although there are probably less painful ways to come by that knowledge. I won't lecture you on politics that I don't pretend to understand, either, except to say that the Prince believes her to be rather drastically at odds with Moire. I will say, though, that she is reputed to be a Sorceress of sufficient skill to train others in the art. Martin will know more, of course.
"Is there a message I should take back to Conner on that point?" he asks.
"I have already contacted Fiona to advise her that Conner would do well to remain away for a time." Jerod says. "Though I doubt he will return to Rebma anytime soon. I did not have Khela's identity at that time however so it would be advisable to notify others of her existence. There is some question as to whether she has walked the Pattern with the consensus leaning towards the negative. If that is the case, her power base is susceptible to those with our unique talent.
"My laying a path for Corwin to Gateway has kept me out of the loop on family affairs. What cousins have been newly minted above the waves?"
"Dozens, it seems like. We'll start with the Readheads. I have one younger brother, Ambrose, whom you have... met... once, very briefly at the Coronation. He is currently in King Random's good graces. We have one middle sister, Chantico, who is in no graces whatsoever. And a very newly arrived cousin, Edan, by way of Bleys."
"Hmm...sounds like you're trying to catch up with Uncle Julian." Jerod muses, returning to the Coronation. "Ambrose...the one with Dara? How did he manage such a dramatic turn-around?"
"Hardly," Brennan says. "I don't have nearly Julian's number of children. But to answer your question, yes, the very same. He turned around because I caused him to realize that he needed us more than we needed him, were less likely to try and murder him in a ritual than Dara, and, finally, because our youngest Uncle is a rather forgiving gambler.
"And then, there's the Younger Prince, Garrett." Brennan waits to see if Jerod recognizes the name. "When you meet him, he'll almost certainly ask you for instruction in bladework."
Jerod nods when listening to the description of Ambrose, filing away bits of information for future reference. The mention of Garrett makes him frown for a moment and the mental digging becomes momentarily furious before recognition comes to the fore.
"Is this the same Garrett of the stables that I'm thinking about?" Jerod asks, waiting a moment for the affirmative response. "And a Prince no less? How old? Our dear king is having his past come back to haunt him it would seem."
Brennan summons an expression of mild schaadenfreude at the mention of the King's paternal travails.
He purses his lips before finishing his drink. "I'll bet that caused quite a stir, assuming it's generally common knowledge about the castle. How is Martin doing with it? And who's been given the questionnable honour of squiring our new Prince? Please say it's not me - I have other things I'd like to deal with first before getting bogged down in real Court silliness."
The schaadenfreudic expression deepens as Brennan holds it with a glint in his eyes. "You mean you didn't want it?" he asks. "What could possibly be more important than squiring the young Prince?"
"Laying paths, finding out about that..." Jerod says, motioning to the spear leaning over to one side, "...and generally trying to keep all three kingdoms working together instead of trying to screw each other. I've got a little suggestion for Uncle Random that if he accepts it will mean I won't be squiring anyone."
Then he smiles. "Of course, I could recommend someone. Lots of perks too. Chances for political responsibility, easy hours, good pay, the food's great and it's a stay-at-home position. You'd be able to hang out with Cambina all the time."
"Whad'ya say?" and he chuckles.
"Realistically, I don't see anyone making the short list but you, me, and Martin, unless we start adding uncles into the mix. But as it happens, we can both rest easy. I was willing to take one for the team-- as I said, he's a good kid-- but King Random decided it was no one but Martin." Brennan shrugs expansively. "Despite the obvious risks of effectively joining his two heirs at the hip for a few years."
"Well, for taking one for the team, I'll buy you a drink." Jerod says.
"I'll take you up on it, some time," Brennan says.
He looks over at Jerod's spear inquiringly, but asks, "Usually, harmony between kingdoms is best promoted through defense against a common threat, or some other broad or important common need such as trade. But in this case, both Paris and Xanadu can be completely trade independent, and there are a large enough number of Rebman associated Family members that Rebma can aim for that status in the long term as well. What did you have in mind to keep the peace?"
Brennan examines the weapon carefully and with great interest, but does not handle it without permission. Even granted permission, he treats it with the respect it is obviously due, rather than standing and playing soldier with it.
"Magnificent," he says quietly.
"Talk." Jerod replies simply. "A means to allow the rulers to work out their differences when the demands of Court and the pride of foolish citizens make it impossible to reach out to another who could help you in difficult times but where to do so would be inopportune, shall we say.
"Oberon's enemies are coming out from the woodwork, and for all their potential power, both Paris and Xanadu are weak, still vulnerable. For all Oberon's greatness, Amber still fell. And your notice of the threat to Rebma means it is also not without its own threats. The kingdoms must work together if they are to survive, or else the enemies of old are going to come back and start picking them off one at a time. They will see the children of an old enemy, and they will act. In this case, the kingdoms will work together for the best reason of our time. Enlightened self-interest."
Jerod lets the information sink in for a moment before continuing. "Corwin has already agreed to my proposal. I go to Xanadu next to gain Random's support. After that, I go to Moire."
Brennan nods. "I don't disagree with your analysis in the slightest," he says, "except for its optimism. With ancient threats emerging, cooperation is possible. Daeon is dead by one of them, and Aisling dead of the fallout of another... along with own unique brand of naivete'. Julian's war alone will take time and resources away from everything else, even if it only threatens Amber and Arcadia." And Brennan is much too long-term a thinker to believe that.
"Then there is Rebma's war. The Moonriders are still out there. The Duchess. And here's another one, in potentiality, at least: Did Eric ever speak to you of a brother named Huon?"
Jerod shakes his head. "The name is unfamiliar."
"An Uncle of ours, banished, imprisoned in Shadow by Bleys at Oberon's command for the crime of fratricide. All indications are that he is free, and expected to be vectoring Amberward."
"Then one would hope this Huon will waste his time on fruitless attacks on a place no longer of value." Jerod replies. "Though that would be foolish optimism. If he is family, he would recognize the change as soon as he approached.
"As for optimism, we have one benefit in this dysfunctional family of ours. When we pull ourselves from our lethargic paranoia, we are most formidable. There are now more of us as well. Not always the best thing to have when trying to get a consensus, but thankfully a monarchy is that benevolent dictatorship that we can all delude ourselves into following when survival requires it."
Brennan nods, in evident agreement. "There are weaknesses in numbers, as well as strengths. Improperly managed, too many external threats will pulls us apart instead of pushing us together. But let's hold that thought for a bit."
"Which means we need to talk of all of our threats so they are ever- present in our thoughts. Tell me of this Huon, and the threat that killed Daeon. After that, you need to learn about Tritons and Rebma."
"Of Huon, I know very little. Grandfather was quite effective in banishing him not just from Amber, but from Amber's memory. There's almost nothing of him in the histories. I don't even know if he's someone's full brother or not... but he apparently killed a half-brother by shoving him onto the Pattern." Brennan's scowl speaks volumes on his thoughts of that.
"Bleys enforced his banishment, and bears a fairly low opinion of Huon's abilities. But he is an Uncle, so treating him lightly would be foolish. Ambrose and I discovered a Trump of him among Brand's possessions," and Brennan gives a quick description of him. "He takes a horn as his symbol.
Here is where recent history complicates everything: he's also suspected of meddling in a Shadow called Abford since his unintentional parole. Abford happens to be the place my son spent his early years, and on his return there, he discovered yet another cousin named Meg at just the time when Huon's army sacked the place. They've since gone back there along with Brita and Ambrose with some notion of either rescuing Meg's immediate circle of friends or perhaps throwing back Huon's army."
Jerod's eyebrows rise slightly. "Your son?" he asks curiously. There is something...unusual perhaps in the way that Jerod asks the question. For a moment, his mannerism could almost be like how a woman would ask when handed something surprising. It passes immediately afterwards.
"Ossian," Brennan says.
Brennan shakes his head and nearly rolls his eyes at the mention of Ambrose and Brita accompanying them. He is patenty baffled by that decision.
"Tritons?" he prompts.
"Tritons have long been considered servants of the Rebman royalty, and the old stories tell of their subjugation long ago, though the particulars of that event are, like most really good bits, lost to all but a few. The female members of the family typically have a Triton assigned to them, with the remainder being kept out of sight. Despite their relative proximity to royalty, in most cases they are despised and treated as little more than slaves.
"Martin and I speculated that their subjugation may possibly be coming to an end with the passing of Oberon. The method of their subjugation is unknown but it would seem that mostly it was the females of Rebma who bore the power to command them. Whether this was be some design or simply because of the existing social structure is not known. There is little enough to indicate where they come from but I would gather they are not merely some minor species come from Shadow but are more associated with our origins and places of real Power. I would recommend that anything you come across in that regard you spread around, especially to Martin.
"Also, as a member of the royal house, Khela will have a Triton." Jerod says. "Be mindful when facing them. They are formidable opponents and since you would face them in their environment as a surfacer would automatically be at a disadvantage."
Brennan considers this, fingers steepled, comparing to what he's heard from Martin. When he speaks, he offers, "What little I know of Rebman politics centers around a discredited movement seeking to liberate the Tritons. Were you aware that Khela's crime against Moire was her affiliation with this group? At any rate, I do not understand the connection between the Line of Rebma and the Line of Amber," he says with some frustration. "Nor why Rebma's line is unable to master its Pattern without Amber's blood in support." He looks inquiringly, if not hopefully, at Jerod.
"And speaking of creatures and places of Power," Brennan continues, "Daeon was killed by the Dragon of Arcadia, which we all gather is reason Arden requires a Warden in the first place. First Finndo, then Corwin, now Julian. Fiona believes the Dragon to be a trapped Lord of Chaos, or something like it. Worse: The Dragon bore five daughters for Finndo. Worse still: One of them was Artemis, who bore Daeon and Dione for Julian. And Daeon's children by Paige, Leif and Brooke, look nearly as old as Garrett." He snorts, unhappily. "But it's been a month since I saw them. They could be in their primes, now. The Dragon reached her power into Amber, possessing several people including Daeon's and Paige's children. Daeon sacrificed his life to save them."
Brennan still can't say that without grinding his teeth.
"Huon. Tritons. The Dragon. Perhaps more. Much that depended directly on Grandfather and the strength of his Pattern threatens to fall apart like a house of cards." He looks across at Jerod. "Which forces the question: what are we going to do about it?"
"It sounds like we've had plenty of opportunity to build up a list of enemies then." Jerod says.
"Thousands of years," Brennan says. "Add in old ones never bound-- as far as I know-- such as the Moonriders, and new ones like Borel."
"What we are going to do about it is gather data and advise others. We have lots of snippets but no hard facts and it seems like everyone has a tiny piece here or there that can work, but like old times, they hold onto their precious jewels because they don't want to share." Jerod's frustration at this behaviour is evident for a moment.
Brennan almost smiles. Of all of his cousins, he suspected that Jerod and Martin would be the most likely to get it. "Don't set your expectations on that point too high into the stratosphere," he says, "But in general, yes."
"We need to pick one or two targets to deal with, leaving the rest for holding actions. We need to consider how Oberon was able to hold off the various threats that existed and whether we can replicate that. We don't have to destroy our opponents. We just have to neutralize them."
Brennan gives a thin smile. "Bleys and I have already had this discussion, in part. I consider neutralization to be a failed strategy, if it's a synonym for simple imprisonment. It didn't work with Brand before Patterfall. It didn't work with Corwin, even in a prison of his own memories. It's unravelled completely after Patternfall for those powers imprisoned before. And given the details of Aisling's imprisonment and subsequent death, it hasn't worked after Patternfall, either. At some point, someone will need to at least play Devil's Advocate for the virtues of updating that strategy to the present situation."
Jerod's smile suggests that none of the current youngers are qualified to meet that job description.
Brennan nods, and considers that topic closed... for now, at least.
Jerod rises to collect another drink. "Consider this. Benedict spoke of Moins as being to Rebma what Oberon was to Amber. But when Moins died, Rebma did not fall. Amber did when Oberon did."
"I've wondered how that could be. It begs the question of how the Patterns are connected, and why they were even constructed in the first place? The creation of a kingdom seems far-fetched now, simply because we know that the Lords of Chaos can create realms of their choosing if they focus their wills. So why build them? It also begs the question of who created Rebma? Did Oberon? If so, why does its Pattern still function? If not, then who? If Moins, why did it not fall? Perhaps because of how she died?" and he paces a bit.
"Why does Moire not walk the Pattern? Perhaps because her blood has thinned too much? Perhaps the lines must co-exist and mingle to reinforce their strength. If we are descended from a Lord of Chaos, and they concentrate their power unto themselves and separate chunks off as offspring, perhaps some bloodlines have become diluted...too weak to survive the attempt?" and he pauses to let the questions fill the room.
"All questions I've asked myself, with no easy answers. I suspect you, Martin, and Celina are in a much better position to answer some of those mysteries directly. But I have a standing invitation from Benedict to contact him or visit him. He may be old enough to shed some light. Failing that, I have a good relationship with Dworkin." As he mentions the old ancestor's name, he frowns, remembering something. His hand goes to a pouch at his belt, reassuring himself that something is still there.
"Here's a relevant question for you, though: How familiar are you with Dara's full lineage and family?"
Jerod shakes his head, indicating he is not.
"I should have phrased it in terms of Merlin, since he's the culmination. Merlin was borne by Dara of Corwin, of course. Dara was begat by Borel, who was begat by Dara the Elder, who was borne by Lintra, of Benedict. Dara the Elder also begat Madoc, who begat Aisling, who in her death begat Saeth. And Dara also begat Clarissa, which very nearly concludes my encyclopedic knowledge of our relations," Brennan says.
"I ask because Aisling and Dara are of isomorphic descent from Grandfather, so far as I know. Unless one of the other was born, rather than begotten, or one of their direct forebears-- and I consider all of these highly unlikely-- their lineages are perfectly similar. Yet, despite Dara's success, Aisling regarded the Pattern with dread. Likewise Daeon, despite a far more direct descent from Oberon than either.
"It could be the simple vagaries of chance that determines this, but as a Pattern initiate myself, I find that answer... highly unsatisfying. I have often wondered if, prior to a sufficient dilution of power, there is a degree of choice in these matters, and perhaps a consequence of that choice. If so, it may explain both Khela and the Rebman puzzle in general. Have you anything that could strengthen or weaken that idea?" Brennan asks.
Jerod does not at this time.
"I once sat with you in Amber and put forward a situation to you...as you said, to manipulate you into helping the family." and Jerod smiles. "Your introduction to the family if I recall properly your words. Now you know why I would do such a thing. I did not know what the future would show to us...only that we have to work together."
This time Brennan does smile, and his delivery is tinged with the astringent tone that indicates he's not really irritated: "Understand, Jerod, that the last thing that this son of Brand wants to associate himself with is a conspiracy. And at the time, you were focussed on threats from within the Family-- what we think of as the Family, leaving out fringe connections through Finndo or Benedict, and then-unknowns like my siblings, or Khela-- rather than outward, which is where the problems are all coming from, lately. So let's consider it a poorly chosen series of phrases, and move on. We can work together on this, you and Martin and I.
"Our biggest problem is that while we all have influence-- you through the Regency Council, me through the Knights and the military structures, and Martin through his birth-- none of us are the decision makers."
"Nor are we qualified to be." Jerod says. "Even you...with all your centuries behind you are not qualified. Martin approaches it but only because he must due to circumstance, not by choice. Yet we are uniquely talented in one area that our elders will not possess. We have the advantage of youth, and a relatively unbiased opinion of the universe. That might equate to a naive view to some, but it is still unbiased. We see things through a different set of filters and that provides a benefit by seeing things that might be overlooked by those who are more experienced and probably more jaded."
Brennan raises an eyebrow, just fractionally, when Jerod tells Brennan what he's not qualified for. With his eyes, hair, and that expression, he bears an astonishing resemblence... not to Bleys, but Fiona. But he lets that pass.
"We're not unbiased, Jerod," he says. "None of us. We've all been shaped by our pasts. Your love of Eric marks you as irrevocably as my hatred of Brand. We are only biased differently."
"That talent grants opportunities to those who recognize them. Consider my proposal that Corwin has agreed to. He believes Random is likely to agree to it. It is simple, but in that position is the option of access to the decision-makers, and in such a way that one can have the chance to influence behaviour.
"All that such a person would need...is information. A true knowledge of the current state of affairs. And that comes from having people around to provide that information, because none of us can know it all."
Jerod finishes his drink, then retrieves his spear. He turns to face Brennan and leans on the staff in a vague that implies a relaxing of behaviour, or perhaps simply the conservation of energy. Regardless, there is a focus to his expression that Brennan has not seen, a commitment to something that will not waver.
"I intend to get that position and make it work. Martin will recognize what I'm doing, and he'll help me because he will know the benefits. Those who are with him will follow because he sets his direction thusly. So I will put it to you because this is not a conspiracy...what will you do? You've already indicated your field of expertise and it's a good one. Will you step forward into the fray? Where you lead, the others of your group will follow and that becomes real influence."
Brennan remains seated in his customary sprawl, left elbow on one arm of his chair, right hand on the other, legs bent and crossed at the knees, body sunken down into the cushions. Brennan occupies his chair like Caesar occupied Gaul, and looks up at Jerod without moving his head.
With a lopsided half-smile, he asks, "What do you think I've been doing since the War? What do you think I'm doing here, now?" His fingers twitch the questions away as soon as it's asked: Never mind. "I swore my Oath to King Random, and I intend to keep it. But so long as the interests of Xanadu, Paris, and Rebma are common, it is easier to interpret my service-- defense of Xanadu-- as something greater. Your success in this matter gives me the latitude I desire.
"Very well, Statesman. I accept your partnership."
Jerod smiles. "Good. Success in groups lacks a certain air of personal glory, but it's so much nicer than failing by yourself."
Brennan inclines his head in agreement. He also inclines his head towards a chair: Brennan's going to get a stiff neck if he has to keep looking up. "Now, as to particulars... since neither of us have Trumps of the other, how do you propose we communicate?"
"Merlin works on a trump of me for Random, but there will still be a lack of them for quite awhile I should think. Unless you can prevail upon Fiona or Bleys for ones of you, the same circumstance must exist as well. So how we communicate must by nature be more of a group effort." he says. "That's why we need more people to have more information. It's too easy to miss people when we're all out and about."
"I've already asked Brita to make one of me. If Paige remains in Paris, I'll see if I can have another made," Brennan says.
"We need to tell family what's happening for sure, but the first requirement is to have individuals in each kingdom who are stationary and can act as intermediaries. Individuals you trust to hold what you give them without fail. Some could be family, but if we can travel freely, then there's a risk of losing the information if only one knows it. I assume you made good contacts in the Army during the War. Random's evacuation of Amber for Xanadu is sure to come about soon. But I'm wondering if all the people will want to go there. Some might find Paris more conducive."
"I'm sure several can be convinced," Brennan says. "But there are disadvantages there, besides the obvious. Among the many falling cards we need to deal with, we can count at least one shapeshifter talented enough to take a fully human form. The amount of damage the Aisling did before Grandfather turned her is almost incalculable, with the only saving grace being that Madoc doesn't seem inclined toward hostility.
"Or at least he didn't," Brennan says around a mouthful of coffee, "Before Aisling's death. Mark down Madoc as another influence to be stabilized. And you saw as well as I did what happened at the Coronation. Any thoughts on how to keep the influence of shapeshifters to a minimum?"
"A few. But they require more suitable environs for a discussion. The gardens here are quite nice and your neck will appreciate the walk." Jerod says. "And I want to see them too and since I'm leaving tomorrow, I might as well kill two birds."
Unless Brennan disagrees, which is possible in which case Jerod will sit back down again, reluctantly, then he continues his comments.
Brennan agrees, and stretches his legs on the walk.
"The problem of shapeshifters is one that needs more thoughts on general security, and that I would leave to those who are more sorcerously inclined. The powers of Order are considerable close to their centre so there are some benefits, but as you've indicated, we've got at least one who can operate in proximity to Order without ill effect. We must assume there could be others."
Jerod sets a leisurely course out of the conservatory through the glass doors, rather than moving back through the castle again. His pace is relaxed and he stops at periodic intervals to look over a piece of architecture, a fountain or the activities of distant gardening staff, though his course never approaches the local staff to within even Vere's exceptional listing range.
"One way to keep the influence to a minimum is to not provide exceptional information. The kind of details we need to pass around are not battle plans or serious intentions on our part." Jerod says. "Those are matters for face to face discussion, in Council type affairs. I'm interested in the details that have fallen from history or bits of family relationships that are not well known. Your little dissertation concerning Dara is an example. How many people do you think know that? How many know about Khela? How many talk about it?
"That's where we need to start and it's going to be a long process to get people involved, but we've got to start. We travel all over and then we come back and gossip, but it's haphazard, ill-focussed. There is no drive to put information out deliberately, to educate, but rather to just let it trickle around. Had I known about Khela's true identity on my return to Rebma, things might not have turned out as they did. And all for a simple piece of information. How many pieces of information can you think of that you found out second hand, little tidbits that might have come in so handy?"
Brennan looks sidelong at Jerod, then says, "Dara has one of Corwin's guns. You mean like that?"
Jerod nods, apparently unsurprised. Either he knew, or suspected, or this kind of message doesn't surprise him. "That would be one of those pesky little details, yes. Never a bad thing to know. She didn't use it however at the Coronation so I wonder why. Any idea how she acquired it?"
(Jerod does not show much surprise by changes in political or tactical circumstances - they are normally viewed as bits of data to be digested - what gets a response is more personal things like changes in a person's relationships or emotional make-up)
"The Aisling is either the most brilliant spy the Chaosi branch ever had, or the most inept. She managed to get her hands on one and stash it away. Dara stole it from her. Along with a considerable amount of written materials. It is a reason we need to bind Madoc and Saeth to us," Brennan says. "The remnants of the Aisling's memory are dangerous, and we don't know to what extent they survive. Would that we had a diplomat on call."
"Or a nuke." Jerod mutters, leaving that to filter for a bit.
"We'll have to see if the propellant mixture that Corwin discovered for Amber is suitable here and in Xanadu for use or if they took steps to neutralize the combustion effect. I'll talk to Random when I get to Xanadu and find out for certain. You might want to hit up Corwin on this. I've dug for information and I never like trying to dry up the bank on the first visit."
Brennan looks across at Jerod. "Your sister is their keeper. One way or the other we'll get them field tested in both locations. Xanadu is high enough tech that if those don't work, something will."
This comments makes Jerod frown slightly but he does not say anything immediately.
"Just so you can tell others, Corwin has a path to Gateway now. I'll be re-stabilizing but it will last awhile. I'll be seeing if Random wants one as well, or a path to another place of his choosing. Keep that in mind when you're considering your use of influence, if you know of someplace that might be valuable to make a connection to."
Brennan nods. "Under no circumstances should you allow yourself to be talked into making a path to Uxmal. If one of the Their Majesties suggests or demands it, let me know. Right now, my sister doesn't even know what she is. That needs to remain the case until she is civilized. Giving her an easy path to any location of Power goes beyond foolish."
"Noted." Jerod adds. "You will have to describe this Uxmal to me or arrange a trip...later."
Brennan shakes his head. "No one should go there without a reason. I don't need Chantico seeing another member of the Family and getting ideas. For that matter, I don't need anyone else wondering what's so damned interesting about the place. Call me paranoid. And frankly, Ambrose should be there keeping a lid on that situation, not screwing around in Abford."
"Not," Brennan continues, "That I really expect anyone to make that suggestion. But one never knows. A second concern is a connection from Amber proper to Xanadu or Paris. If Julian loses his war against the Dragon, then Amber might fall permanently to it, or pathways might serve only to give it access or an easier route."
Jerod's nod indicates he has already considered that possibility.
"And the third concern are direct connections between Paris and Xanadu. There's a tradeoff between communication and security: Do they route directly to each other, if that's possible, or do we set up a near Shadow as a firewall? My instinct is to firewall-- and to choose that Shadow with exceptional care, because it would quickly amass influence of its own directly dependent on neither power."
"There is also the issue that path creation is typically done from Shadow to source." Jerod says. "Going the other way is what gave me some serious headaches during the Regency. I'd be willing to bet that going between two Patterns would do a lot more than just give me nosebleeds. But, on the other note, you had previously made mention of creating a forward base for monitoring Chaos. There may be some merit to creating a linkage between the two kingdoms and fortifying it between the two kingdoms. I'll let you work out the logistics of that to see if its feasible, and warranted."
Brennan favors Jerod with his best Bleys impression: "It's downhill both ways, Cousin. What could be easier?" More seriously: "I'll draw up the proposals. You've got familiarity with the remnants of the Golden Circle. Are any of them particularly suited for this?"
"Some are, but the question is whether they can be reached. Bellum became untenable after the path I laid crumbled. Specific locations may no longer exist now that Amber's Pattern is no more. I would assume that the radiant nature of the Pattern would create certain conditions, making certain Shadow easier to find and reach under Oberon and his children. The new Patterns almost certainly would have created new interference characteristics. Corwin mentioned something like when he talked about Weyland and how he could not be found. The emphasis was on, he could not be found.
"However, if we assume that previous Shadows are still available somehow out of all the ones that existed, the easiest to initially assimilate would be places like Bellum or Resoun. Both places have their own unique way of dealing with things, but they are fairly simplistic in their approaches. Martial prowess and honour for Bellum, logic and intellectual talent for Resoun. Making deals would not be difficult with the right gifts."
Brennan nods. "Well, we certainly know that some places still exist. Uxmal, unfortunately, hasn't gone anywhere, nor has Abford. My suspicion is that for the most part, Shadows are still 'there,' in the sense of existing out there, but that the concommitant shocks of Pattern injury, Black Road travel, Pattern repair, Pattern destruction and new Pattern creation have been like a series of earthquakes or tectonic shifts. Places are still there, but the roads are destroyed and the metaphorical terrain between them has changed. Thus, they may not always be 'there,' in the sense of where we left them, with the graph of imposed connections intact."
"Florimel has managed to reach Karime so they are available as well, though they can be a bit fussier than one might hope for. I'm not sure about places like Zhu'mar. It has high tech and substantial resources, but it's a fairly nasty place. I've been there and it's not for the faint of heart. A stylish suit and a fast gun are the order of the day there. They're a good resource spot, but you don't make outright alliances with them."
Brennan starts to make a frowning comment about that, then stops to consider. "Ordinarily, I'd say their status as a tech shadow makes them a bad choice. One does not need ironsides or submarines patrolling waters through which Amber's wooden sailing fleet will navigate. But I'm not so certain what the Parisian or Xanadhavian fleets will end up looking like, a few decades down the line."
"They're good for services." Jerod adds simply, as means of clarification.
"Tell me about the Dragon? Have you spoken to Corwin about it? A number of comments about people, places and things have been made of late and the term Dragon keeps popping up in association."
"Later," Brennan says, "in greater seclusion over a greater quantity of coffee. Or wine," he adds. "What associations are you hearing that gives you concern?"
"To start, Corwin's sword Grayswandir, created by Weyland the Smith." Jerod says. "There are legends about Weyland throughout Shadow in a variety of guises. Don't be surprised if Brita hasn't heard of him under another name. He reputedly forged a sword that slew a mighty dragon. Corwin was Warden of Arden before Julian, was he not? The idea of slaying something doesn't necessarily mean killing it, does it?". The questions seems more rhetorical than anything.
Brennan nods, almost certainly to the former rather than the latter.
"Amber's Pattern goes kaput and the Dragon begins to emerge. Your comment about the Dragon being part of Chaos. Chaos and the Unicorn, plus add in our whole descendant trail from there." Jerod pauses, leaning on the spear as he looks out at the well defined garden that stretches out before them, the grounds keepers moving deliberately from flower to shrub to tree and back again. "For something that is supposed to be far away removed, we have a preponderance of Chaos in our lives of late.
"It makes me wonder back to the creation of Patterns. Why were they created? What is their purpose? This is too big for something as simple as ego or idle gain." Jerod says. "If that's the reason why they were made, then it borders on being a big joke."
He begins walking again, his gaze more focussed on a distant horizon than where he currently is. "I have...a vague feeling that they are much more than just focal points to create little kingdoms to rule. There's more to it. There has to be..."
"Add these to your list of draconic references, then," Brennan says. "At Grandfather's funeral, his casket was borne away over the Abyss by a Dragon. And there were other dragons," Brennan hesitates slightly, uncertain whether or not to place them in the same category, "in attendance as well."
He walks a little farther, thinking over the rest of his response. "As to why it-- they-- were made, I've given it more than a little passing thought over the years. Until rather recently, there hasn't been anyone to ask. It's marked down on my list of questions to ask both Benedict and Dworkin when I see them next. It's a pity that Lintra is deceased. It would have been fascinating to get the Chaosi perspective on it. But I suspect that the first one was made for reasons entirely apart from the notion of kingdoms and rulership, whatever the reasons for the more recent ones. My best guess would be protection from Chaos. It's very hard for the general officer in me not to notice the effects it has on mobility."
"We noticed it as well during the attack on Kolvir." Jerod says. "It's the only thing that kept most of my men alive. It's a pity there aren't a few more Chaosi around with a slightly less hostile attitude to talk to."
"There are Clarissa and Madoc," Brennan says, "but the problem there is that they're both post-Amber creations. They're immensely powerful, which I speculate is due to the lingering presence of Grandfather's and Benedict's legacy to them, but to the effect that linear time and memory still function as we'd expect them to in Chaos, they're less than ideal. For all I know, Lintra would have been too 'young' as well. They may have memories of a time before their creation, but I wouldn't trust the content too much, and I wouldn't trust the context at all.
"There were other Lords at Grandfather's funeral, even aside from the draconic forms, but I know nothing about them."
"So...we have lots of potential information sources...or enemies, depending on their perspective..." Jerod says, "...and no real way to speak to them. I think I'll stop speculating for the moment. It's fun but it doesn't do much good if you can't verify it anytime soon."
"That about sums it up," Brennan says. "Mining that vein is a long term project for some of us."
Changing the topic, he continues. "I trust my sister is not being too demanding of you? She can take after Dad sometimes."
Brennan actually smiles. "Nothing worth doing is undemanding, Jerod. Our relationship is no different. I'm glad you were in Paris when we arrived, though. I'll never hear the end of 'the romantic visit to Paris to see Uncle Corwin,' as it is. Luckily, I won the gamble, and you're here. She'll never admit it, to anyone, but I think she was... concerned for you. A sister's prerogative."
"She is always concerned for her little brother." Jerod replies. "Such is the older sibling's perogative and one I would never deny her. I sometimes regret not being there more often than I currently am. However, I forget that she was not raised Rebman so I treat her as I would treat my other sisters. Their independance is noteworthy."
"So I've seen of Rebman women," Brennan says, thinking back to a card game a long time ago. "Cambina is no less so, in her way." And Brennan wouldn't have it any other way.
He takes a few more paces, then muses, "I can only wonder what Eric would have thought of the whole thing."
Jerod smiles. "Dad would have considered it based on a number of factors, and while I might speculate on what they would be, in the final analysis they would be his musings. Think for a moment however that my father worked to garner Martin as a husband to Cambina, and it was not an idle effort on his part. He did not wish a... conventional... husband for her."
"And pushing any of us is like pushing a rope," Brennan says. "His surest means of making it happen would have been to forbid it, I suspect. I never met your father, of course, but we lost a great deal when we lost him. All that he must have known going back centuries."
"And little did all that knowledge help him in the end." Jerod says, the flatness in his voice telling. "My point concerning Cambina is not to be ignored however. For all his faults, his daughter's happiness was of great importance to him. Her stubbornness would have counted for little had Dad not been willing to consider her side. Even in his own way he wanted better for her."
Brennan nods, once. "I knew that there had been such a plan, but I had it placed in the realm of political marriages whose finer benefits I did not fully understand, mostly because of my lack of expertise in Rebman politics."
"Moire prevented it, for her own reasons." Jerod adds. "As for the marriage, a Rebman husband has certain advantages over the pick of Amber males that was available at the time. Rebman males do not view their wives as property, though the reverse is not the same. With Dad now dead, the requirements of marriage do not exist."
Brennan raises an eyebrow when he hears that it was Moire that prevented it, but holds whatever thought he has.
Thinking back to some earlier conversation with someone else, Brennan abruptly changes the track of the discussion. "Do you know of any ties that Benedict, Finndo or Osric had to Rebma, in particular?"
"Of Finndo and Osric I know little." Jerod says. "Only that they died for the good of Amber...our quaint little euphemism for individuals who died as embarrassments to the Family.
"Benedict has some connection to Rebma though what I am not sure. I had been speaking to him briefly concerning a particular topic and his answers indicated he had more than just a passing interest in Rebma simply because of what he appears to know. However, he was not terribly forthcoming with regards to my specific questions either because he was not aware of anything of importance or because he deemed it was not of importance to share it with me. I suspect the latter since he directed me towards Martin with answer my queries.
"I would presume that Reid might be able to answer your question, as least where Osric was concerned, unless Reid has also forgotten such things."
"Reid has been very scarce on the ground, lately," Brennan says. "If you see him, tell him I'd like to speak to him about far more immediate concerns than ancient history... although we could do that as well."
Jerod nods at this comment.
"At any rate, it was just a passing curiosity. Frankly, I wonder just how long Rebma has existed."
"A long time." Jerod says. "The markings on this..." and he taps the spear, "...are in an disused form of the Rebman language, long gone. I know how to read it only because of being exposed to a scholarly background during my upbringing and that the words are conceptually precise. Anything more complex would require research. Given the social inertia to cultural change in our kingdoms, it would take quite some time to lose a language."
"Or an invasion and occupation," Brennan muses. "Even Amber was sacked, once."
"Another piece of history that has been forgotten in the telling perhaps."
Brennan gestures at the markings on the spear. "What does it say?"
"The rings are laid out in a particular order." Jerod says. "The concepts are set into an ascending order, with the overall effect is to denote a martial philosophy."
He points to each one, starting at the bottom and working up.
"Humilis, then fidelatis. Humility and Loyalty. These appear to be the foundation.
"Probatis, or honesty followed by Aequitas...justice. The next two words are approximately the same but there are slight variations in their texting that determines their context. Clementia or compatior. The former means humanity and is a more specific connotation. The latter is compassion, more generalist.
"Animus - courage." he says, before tapping the final top ring. "Veneratio. Respect.
"Those words are the more modern equivalents as well. The old language is no longer spoken, at least not that I've heard."
Brennan nods as he hears each word and translation. He either approves of the sentiment, or the sound of the language. "May I?"
Jerod may be assured that if he lets Brennan handle it, it will not be spun, twirled, or waved about.
Jerod allows him to inspect it. He would actually be rather disappointed if Brennan didn't at least spin it. It's weighted and balanced to do a lot more than just put the pointy bit through someone...:)
Brennan takes it carefully, and inspects it professionally, running his fingers over the bone and the rings, perhaps moving AEQVITAS to a little more prominence in his mind. He examines the striations of the bone as well, and, with Jerod's nod of encouragement, takes a step back and finds the balance of the weapon. Brennan's stance and motions fit perfectly with what Jerod knows about him-- they're well-suited for the chaos of a mass battle rather than a contest between two men, and they display a perfect awareness that both ends of the staff can attack, while the haft can defend.
Jerod steps back out of range to give room to maneuver with the weapon, watching the moves undertaken with a critical eye though he says nothing.
A moment later, he runs his fingers over the striations again, and, handing it back, says, "Magnificent weapon. What are the colorations, here, and here?"
"Blood." Jerod says simply, a slight smile on his lips before he continues.
"Bone forged weapons are usually brittle, which is why they tend not to survive against more efficient metal ones, even simple ones like bronze. The requirements to make a lasting bone weapon are substantial because you have to reinforce the bone as well as create the equivalent of a tempering.
"Normal bone weapons involve drying out the bone, infusing it with a liquid of some sort and then firing it. This causes the blood that layers within the bone to be expelled. The process gives the bone strength, but the result is a bone that is uniform in colour. You don't get this." he says, tapping one of the striations.
"These indicate this bone was forged after being freshly removed from its original owner. There was no attempt to substantially dry it or otherwise clean it out. Given that my grandfather wielded this in defense of my mother and the Queen, and against many different kinds of weapons, I'd say it wasn't your average beast. Nor was the graver."
When Jerod mentions blood, Brennan shifts his grip to a more ginger one along the haft, and hands it back to him. "That was going to be my next question, what type of beast donated its bones to the defense of Rebma. But you can add this, or at least the raised eyebrow equivalent: blood magic? Is that what you suspect?"
Jerod smiles a bit more as Brennan shifts his grip, as always amused by the actions of surfacers with regards to things made of living creatures. So much of Rebma affords from the sea, it becomes second nature to see it as a bounty. Even the rare amber gris sought after by so many, yet how many above the waves squirm slightly when they learn of where it comes from. Beauty has such harsh beginnings.
Accepting the spear back, he moves it into a cradle position while continuing. "The Chancellor of Gateway examined it briefly and proclaimed it from a beast in their northern lands, one supposedly called a dragon though she claimed that it was not such a beast. However, mentioning that to Corwin was enough to get him out of his chair to go study it further."
"I'm not surprised," Brennan says.
"As for the means of its construction, I am not sure. The gravers of Rebma are quite skilled in such matters, and the one who forged this even more so." and he taps the spear tip lightly. "That is not bone as you can see. It is coral, a fusion of hundreds of tiny shards. That tip will pierce a suit of plate armor without the slightest effort given the proper talent wielding it. Gravers normally work in a single material. Those that can work in more than one, and get the materials to co-exist are few and far between.
"When I return home, I intend to find out who made it."
"It's well worth pursuing," Brennan says. "Blood magic shows up all over Shadow, as I'm sure you know. It's probably a broad reflection of the capacities inherent in our own bloodline, and the scope of it in Shadow probably indicates its importance. I don't think it was an accident that Brand selected a Shadow with so prominent a connection to it. To have a weapon with a possible connection to blood magic-- not to mention something called a dragon-- that was created in Rebma is... auspicious."
"Indeed. One wonders how Shadow's reflection has come about Rebma and the influences it has projected. We make so many assumptions. It also makes for interesting speculation about Gateway, since my grandfather came from that land originally." Jerod says.
"Speculate away, if you like," Brennan says. "Of Gateway, I know very little, but in that sense I can provide a near pefectly neutral sounding board. And it never hurts to broaden my own knowledge fo the near Shadows."
"Regrettably I only speculate on subjects for which I have a fair grounding of knowledge. To do otherwise is a useless waste of time, though if one's intention is to pontificate then perhaps it becomes useful. I leave that however to others more suited...like Lucas." he says with a slight, shark smile.
"And others," Brennan says with a ghost of a smile. "Under the right circumstances, it can also be brainstorming, but even there, there are limits."
"As for Gateway, I know what I remember from limited trips long ago. Mages are like cats. They are most pleasant to each other when at a distance. The greater the distance, the greater the pleasantries."
"Ah, a low-scoring variant," Brennan murmurs.
Jerod continues to walk once again. "It is a place of power, though not like what we possess. There were mages in Gateway who could have proved most lethal to me had they been so inclined, yet I knew that with the right focus I could make Gateway pay dearly, even irretrievably. They are not to be underestimated in their ambitions of course. Conner's lady friend Thalia is an example of such ambition, as is her aunt the Chancellor of the Collegia. Should you ever go there, be sure to meet the Chancellor. I did so and learned of this..." he says, tapping the spear. "I also received a personal invitation to go looking for her niece who apparently made an unfortunate choice of travel in the northern lands. The same region where this apparently came from.
"It shows she understands the fine subtleties when offering a carrot where one has no stick. Such individuals are to be admired."
Brennan makes the obvious mental notes about who the best sources of local knowledge are, but says, "Duly noted, but it's not the most likely place for me to end up. Is the power of Gateway really Power? I've yet to find a Shadow I considered truly harmless, but plenty where technology, magic, theurgy, and other variations could punish the unaware who did not step lightly."
"What is power?" Jerod muses. "If you lie grievously wounded in a far away shadow, unable to move and the only person in the place has the bandages, is that power? If you hold the knowledge of where their one true love can be found, is that bargaining? If they offer to give you the bandages in exchange for the information, but you do not fear death to withhold the information, is that power?
"I would say the power of Gateway is not their magic, but their knowledge. They are like Amber was, a hub. But they trade in knowledge, in the mystical and the esoteric. It is second nature for them to acquire such knowledge because of what they are. They would not have gained the position they had previously enjoyed by merely being a bastion of simple power. Such things are too easily subverted."
That gets another mental note expression from Brennan. "Such places are always useful. I know of a few squirrled away in the Tree regions straddling Shadows and Courts," he muses. "Summerless, Vanderyahr, anyplace the Brotherhood of the Starlit Cowl shows up... All useful, all dangerous. I hadn't really considered that there would be such places around Amber, in the Golden Circle, except for Amber itself.
"How far back do their histories go, in Amber terms?"
"That I do not know. I would speak to my sister as she may have more information in that vein. I'm sure she can provide you with whatever you might...require." Jerod says, the barest hint of humor in his tone.
"Careful, Jerod," Brennan says, in the carefully neutral tone that implies he could take offense on his behalf or Cambina's, but chooses not to. The inflection returns to normal as he adds, "Your sister is not my private historian, but I'll add it to the list of pleasant after dinner conversation topics."
He begins angling their walk into an open area where, with a good visual command of the field, they can be sure they won't be overheard.
Jerod follows, allowing himself a loud chuckle. "My sister is many things but a prude where sex and relationships is concerned does not fit. I'm rather surprised that you'd appear to be one. I would have expected that at your age such things would have gone by the wayside long ago. Or am I mistaken?"
"Youth makes a great many mistakes, Jerod. This topic is closed." Brennan never even comes close to raising his voice, so it's easy to hear gates swinging shut behind his words.
Jerod does not continue his picking at his target, instead merely tagging a point for future consideration...should it be required.
Brennan walks in silence. Jerod can fill that silence with some topic of his own. Otherwise, after a time, Brennan says, "Julian is damned, you know."
Jerod frowns at his comments, his mind sifting previous information for clues. "How so? His self-proclaimed war with the Dragon?"
Brennan nods. "Almost no matter what he does. The Dragon is as real, in its way, as you or I," and he slaps his chest for emphasis. "I have it from one who should know, and corroborated by another who knows her theory. If it is not a Lord of Chaos proper, that's still a useful model. And it is... massive. And ancient. It has been there since Finndo's day. Do you see?"
"It makes me wonder as to its origins, along with the Unicorn and what our connections are, beyond the simple premise we are descended from Chaos." Jerod says, sifting speculation points.
Brennan nods at the import of the questions, but has nothing useful to add.
"Why is it where it is? What did Corwin do with it when he was Warden? I would presume that if it was possible to kill it, that would have already been done. Oberon wouldn't have left a threat to menace his kingdom if he didn't have to. That would tend to make me think any war that Julian engages in would have to be more about containment than outright destruction."
"That's part of it. I believe I understand at least part of the reasons it has been allowed to rest there for so long. It can be killed; of that, I'm certain, whether we're using the flexible definitions of death associated with the Chaosi-- a disruption in the continuity of identity-- or the more cut and dried definitions we're used to," Brennan says. "But there are consequences. And the situation today is not what it was during Corwin's tenure. This changes everything."
"With all the patterns floating around now, most certainly." Jerod replies, pausing to think.
"I wonder...would this Dragon be somehow...I'm not sure... associated is perhaps the best word, to the Amber Pattern. What about the other Patterns? Are there strong Chaos elements to balance the propogations of Order? Or is it just one big Chaos Lord originally bounded by the Patterns we knew about, prior to one of them getting slagged and two more being made? That might be enough to wake up someone on the wrong side of the bed."
"Interesting thought, but I doubt it. If the Dragon were a naturally occurring point of balance to the Pattern, we wouldn't have a problem, as the natural response would be for it to go away. I suspect it was just a Lord, or something equivalent, trapped there either by accident or on purpose.
"But it's real. And massive. In much the same way as we do, if not exactly the same way, it deforms the geography of Shadow around it, like a weight on a mattress. It's why few of us should congregate in Shadows for excessive amounts of time. We stress, we deform, in some cases we damage the fabric around us. We're bowling balls on a mattress, unless there's a near Pattern to provide support. But the Dragon is apparently more. Much more. A granite boulder to your bowling ball, or mine. It's been there for thousands of years, and now the local Pattern is gone."
Brennan looks flat into Jerod's eyes, and asks: "Now, what are Julian's options?"
"I can speculate but I would suggest you ask Julian that." Jerod counters. "I know well what I might do, but I am not aware of all of my esteemed uncle's many talents. Nor his flaws. Speculation on my part for that venue might be considered a pointless waste of time.
"Barring an indepth analysis of those two elements, Julian has three options. He can fight. He can surrender. He can negotiate. Anything else is a variation on one of those three situations subject to the relative strengths and weaknesses he may current possess at the moment in relation to his opposition.
"Given what little I have discerned of both his strengths and weaknesses, I determine that he will not surrender. Like all of us, such an option are not voluntary. It would have to be forced by his opponent.
"Under normal conditions, negotiation is more likely during initial conflict stages and certainly more preferable. However, the death of his son will tend to obviate that option. Fighting is therefore his only remaining choice."
"Assuming he follows that choice, a logical approach would be to acquire additional allies and intelligence on his enemy, determine suitable conditions for victory and work towards those conditions while determining methods to delay and defeat projected assaults by the enemy, all of which promotes overall conditions for victory. What weapons, powers or conditions that might be suitable against the Dragon would require investigation, beyond the obvious but unhelpful suggestion of inscribing a Pattern right on top of its head. For simplicity's sake we could say that if he worked to restore conditions to a point prior to that of Oberon's death, it is likely that the Dragon would be neutralized. That might be a reasonable solution, though not necessarily a rational one.
"This all assumes that Uncle Julian maintains a suitably rational approach. Another possible option is to determine what is aggravating the Dragon and eliminate that irritant, thus eliminating the reason for the Dragon's hostility. I suspect however that would involve the elimination of all the Patterns plus the various offspring associated with them and I do not see that as a viable option." and he smiles. "I might not like all of our family members, but I'm not eager to see them all dead."
Jerod turns and leans in just slightly. "And how would you speculate?"
"Simply," Brennan says. "And in turns of strategic outcomes.
"Julian can kill the Dragon, or not. If he kills the Dragon, the metaphorical granite boulder disappears from the mattress, and the fabric of Shadow rebounds, changing the entire geography of local Shadow. Probably devastating it. Arcadia, Arden, and everything nearby experience catastrophic damage, as a result of Julian's vengeance.
"If he fails to kill it, it probably escapes because the Pattern no longer sustains Shadows. Everything bad about the former case comes about, and possibly worse. And we're left with an angry and very free Dragon, as a result of Julian's failure.
"Or, if he fails, there's an outside chance that the mass of the Dragon might just break the fabric of Arcadia. Benedict has alluded to such events. That might be the same as the Dragon just breaking free. It might be a more total devastation. It might detroy the Dragon, it might not. Talking to Benedict about that is a high priority. But in any case, the Dragon has been there thousands of years. It's part of the geography, by now. Imagine someone ripping Kolvir out of its place."
Having enumerated the major possibilities, Brennan lets that register before continuing. "Then we get to the outside chances, the desperate gambits, and the damage controls. Returning to something approaching status quo ante would probably do it, but I don't have the equipment to make a new Pattern, and I doubt Julian does either. Or, having killed the Dragon, perhaps he could replace it with something of comparable mass and effect. I don't have anything like that handy, either. You?"
"Regrettably I left all my pocket realities and Patterns in my wardrobe in Amber and that got buried in the Sundering." Jerod says, a slight touch of sarcasm in his voice.
"Overall it sounds rather dire. About what we should come to expect with our family." Despite the dire predictions, Jerod does not seem overly concerned though he would seem to have collected all the information for future reference.
"Most of this remains predicated on one starting element. What is Julian going to do? Have you spoken to him yet?"
"No, I haven't. I barely know the man, I don't have his Trump, and I'm already on a tour with a definite agenda, here and beyond. But right now, almost all outcomes end with intershadow devastation. I have no good way of knowing how far that's likely to spread. To Arden? Almost certainly. To Amber? Unknown." Brennan gives a wolfishly cynical smile, then paraphrases one of Brennan's Laws: "Before drawing up the detailed plans for any war, understanding the consequences of failure and victory is paramount.
"Speaking of that, I'm sure King Random knows all this. But if he doesn't, it won't be because I sat on the information. If you're going that way, you should mention it to him. And I'm sure you know Julian better than I do, too."
"I'll be sure to mention it to him when I trump him tomorrow." Jerod says. "If you have an interest about Julian, speak to Corwin while you are here. Ask just right and he might be willing to let you try his trump. I would ask my sister as well concerning her opinion of how you might approach Julian. I have had enough dealings with him to know how I would approach him, but he has known me most of my adult life. He taught me about life in Arden at my father's request when I came above the waves. You would operate under a different set of constraints than I, as well as different obligations."
"Taken under advisement," Brennan says, "And I've already spoken with Corwin about it. But approaching Julian is not on my immediate agenda. King Random has sent me in search of information about how to fight the Dragon and other threats to the realm, not how to save Julian's soul, and I'm not done with the task he's set before me. You're very likely a better man for talking to Julian than I am, anyway. Robin would perhaps be even better, but last I saw, she was away from Amber and Xanadu, both.
"If you're leaving to speak with King Random tomorrow, will you carry two messages for me? One for the King, one of Paige. I'll have them written and delivered to you."
"The delivery can be arranged." Jerod says.
"Excellent, thank you," Brennan says with a smile. "They will be waiting for you before daybreak tomorrow."
Last modified: 24 May 2006