Decisions, Decisions

After the brunch with Folly, Edan goes down to the stables where Aramsham is being kept. He'll saddle his horse himself and take the stallion out for a ride, ostensibly for some much-overdue exercise.

Another reason, of course, is to allow himself some time to think, to make a decision. Three different destinations, and difficult to decide which to handle first.

Amber is a good start, where Fiona and his father may still be residing; there are still many questions to ask, and they have the answers. But then again, a return to the Land of Peace is also in order; no progress will be made with the tribes until a visit is made, until someone can come back to speak more fully of trade and diplomatic relations. Both of these destinations would require a ship, as the overland route is much longer and more complex.

The third possibility, the scouting mission, now that could be done overland... but Amber is a better starting point for that. Edan puts it behind the other priorities, for haring off alone into the wild is not the wisest strategy. Not in this case.

Edan is dressed in traveling clothes, loose pants and shirt, a golden vest, a white turban, and desert boots; he carries his swords, as it is possible that he may still be attacked by those who recognize him. Aramsham wears the belled bridle, and they jingle as Edan turns the stallion towards the docks... and a chance to inspect the ships that prepare to sail to Amber and beyond.

The harbor is a perfect crescent, with two long arms protecting vessels that are inside from the rough see outside. It's also flowing outward, due to the rather large waterfall pouring into the back of the bay. All the ships in harbor are on the north side, and it looks like the locals are building a quay to supplement the wooden docksides. It's noisy here, from the waterfall, but not distractingly so.

There are two ships in the harbor, both at anchor. They are both from Amber, but are flying Random's Red Unicorn banner. One is clearly a warship, called "The Queen Paulette", and the other is a merchant vessel, fresh in from Amber and unloading migrants. She is "The White Countess", and her figurehead is indeed clad completely in white.

Edan slows down to think a moment. Paulette... Paulette... that is the name of Random's mother, he remembers. He does not remember either vessel in the travel back and forth from Amber to Xanadu. It seems logical, though, that the _Paulette_ would be here for defense, and the _Countess_ the most likely ship to put back out to sea.

He brings Aramsham up close to the latter vessel, then cups his hands around his mouth. "Ahoy, the ship!" he calls.

[assuming someone is on deck to answer]

"Is this ship going back to Amber?" he asks. "Who led it here?"

A scraggle-toothed, older man comes to the fore deck rail. "We are not at liberty to shout it across the bay, My Lord, but we hope to return thence when a Prince of Amber is available to lead us or a flotilla back."

Edan smiles, dismounts, then spends a long moment wrestling with his suddenly skittish stallion to find a good place to tie him. The bells jingle until Edan finds just that spot behind Aramsham's cheekbone to pinch.

"Not the best moment for embarassment, Aramsham," he says, softly, after the stallion settles. Once his horse is tied down, Edan moves to the gangplank. "You may have found one," he says, fixing his gaze on the sailor above. "Though I still have some business at the castle... I am Edan, ibn Bleys, ibn Oberon. Is your captain still aboard?"

The older man nods. "I'm Captain Quadrant. Can you take us to Amber? D'ye know how soon there'll be a charted route?"

Edan shakes his head in response to the second question. "I have led ships back and forth," he says, "the other is a question I intend to ask my uncle the King." He waves a hand to indicate the construction still going on, and adds, "However, I do not think the time is yet ripe to lay such a path from Amber to here."

Quadrant nods and grins, exposing more bad teeth. "We're happy to have it delayed, as long as we can get The Countess back and forth. We can sail at sunset or 2 bells of the Morning watch, if it's to be today. When should we be ready, My Lord?"

Edan grins himself, realizing that for the first time, he does not have to work the bell system out in his head. "The Morning watch," he says. "And if you would tell the Harbormaster, if a ship comes with the tide this evening, and is able to unload, I can lead them back out as well."

[Quadrant] nods, but not happily.

Edan's smile grows a little wider as he puts two and two together in a metaphorical kind of way. Perhaps Xanadu is not all that different from the Central Sea, after all. "Then again, Captain, it is the small favors that make a long voyage bearable. If word fails to reach the Harbormaster, it is of no large consequence to me. I shall not even require a gift of camels or virgins to turn my head."

[Edan] glances down to the quay, thinks about the odds of Aramsham getting sick or dying on a ship voyage, and with a sigh, decides there are better ways to bring his horse across. He turns to the captain, and says, "Now that we are not shouting across the bay, I am not disrupting someone else's plans by leaving in the morning, yes?"

He smiles. "Our competitors, perhaps. But if you're asking if we're leaving your uncle shorebound, then I can say we are not. His highness made it quite clear that we were on our own once we arrived here. We knew it would work out. We're lucky men, we are."

Edan nods. "We are both fortunate." Realizing that this uncle (whose very mention narrows the list considerably) might well have asked for some discretion, and the issue not all that important to Edan, he drops the next question. Instead he says. "I shall be here early in the morning, then. Ma as-salaamah, Captain Quadrant."

Quadrant walks down the gangplank and holds out his hand to Edan, in the fashion of Amber.

This is still a strange thing to Edan, whose muscles lock at the start of his bow (which becomes sort of a head-bob) and shakes the proffered hand instead.

With a final nod, he walks back down the gangplank, over to Aramsham, and heads back up the hill towards the castle of Xanadu... to seek an audience with its King.

Random is, the castle staff will tell Edan, on the roof. They direct him to a stairwell.

Edan is in pretty good shape, but of course it's a long way up. He slows considerably as he reaches the top, and is consciously controlling his breathing. Rather than call out, he opens the last door to the roof and looks about.

Edan spots Random right away. Some thirty or forty feet out on the sloped, slate-covered roof, Random is lying on a towel, head downwards. His clothes are next to him in a small pile, and his head is bobbing. "Hello," he shouts. "If you come out, be careful!"

Edan frowns, neatly trapped between his desire to speak to Random, the desire not to shout out the conversation across the rooftops, the desire to respect privacy, especially with such an obvious lack of dress, and the desire not to slide off the roof of the castle and become a new and interesting piece of abstract art for those below.

After a moment, he removes his boots, deciding to let bare feet and hands and his own sense of balance carry him closer. As he crawls out, he keeps his attention on the slate tiles, rather than the king.

Edan moves out and finds that the slate tiles are tricky to navigate, but not impossible. He knows of no one other than his father and himself who could do this. His uncle's looks are clearly deceptive.

"It is Edan, my uncle," he says. "I wished to speak to you before I left... ah... you are, your Majesty, Lord of All You Survey, and quite a bit of what you cannot, but could I ask why the roof of the castle attracts you so?"

"C'mon out. I'm here for three reasons. One, not many people will have the balls to follow me. Two, I'm enjoying the sun and the sound of the falls. And C, the sound of the blood rushing in my ears helps me compose. Oh, and Four, it's fun. It reminds me of flying."

Edan raises his eyebrows at this, and glances back to the door. It occurs to him that he didn't even really think about not coming. "Flying is most pleasurable, yes," he agrees, leaving it to Random to figure out how Edan would do his flying in a shadow that has only trains and dirigibles.

When Edan reaches him, Random says "Have a beer and tell me what's on your mind." There is indeed a bottle on top of the King's pile of clothes.

Edan sits down, bare feet pointed towards the edge, crossed arms and chin resting on bent knees. He smiles and drops his gaze to his feet at the offer of a beer, suddenly more cheerful that they're alone and not in a room full of peers and officials.

"I am leaving in the morning to guide the _White Countess_," he says. "I wanted to discuss with you the route from Amber to Xanadu, and what I shall be doing when I reach Amber."

He reaches out to touch the bottle with brown fingers. "Thank you for the offer," he says. "I... ah... generally avoid... the fermentation of grain and of grape. I have made exceptions, but as you have seen, I would sip at it and spend my time weighing duty against childhood morality. Please, enjoy it in my stead, so that the limited resource of a cold beer on a hot rooftop will not be wasted." A pause. "If you wish, I did bring a hookah, so that we might enjoy the smoking of hashish and poppy paste and juice of the sappho, along with many other mind affecting drugs my culture allows as a substitute for alcohol."

Beat.

Beat.

"That is joke."

"That's good, because I was about to call your bluff and see where you pulled a hookah out of. I'm not much of a navigator. 'Sail towards Amber, as it becomes more Ambery, you're getting closer' isn't good advice. What shall you be doing when you reach Amber?"

Random picks up a beer and opens it against the slate rooftiles. He pours it into his mouth from above his head and swallows.

Edan smiles in response. "The captain of the _Countess_ asked if the regular route would return. I am sure he is not the first to ask. I... hedged... if that is the term, and indicated that the city is still being built. But it did occur to me to ask you if you even -wanted- a path laid down between Amber and Xanadu. I do not wish to try in the future, if you are against it." He pauses. "Beginnings are delicate times, and I did not think such a thing would be a wise move. Not now."

Random closes one eye to better aim the beer stream. "Don't plan on it being permanent, but yeah it would be useful. It's not like your uncles and cousins are falling out of their codpieces to ferry ships back and forth."

Edan almost visibly switches gears. "Done," he says a few seconds later, and nods. "A learning experience, yes?" He smiles.

Random nods once. "Have you ever laid a sea-path?"

Edan responds with a kind of horizontal brushing motion with one hand, but then chuckles and follows up with a shake of his head. "No paths at all," he says. "My father taught me the equations that deal with such a thing, of course... I simply have not actually, ah, made one."

Random stretches, scratching his back on the slate beneath him. "I never had a head for math. Or didn't used to. Try not to sail in so fast this time." Random smiles.

"But that brings me to my plans in Amber... I am going to try to arrange a message to the naibs of the seven tribes, on the next ship that is bound to the Land of Peace. Going myself would take time... time better spent on other tasks." He glances at Random. "I hear that there are specific threats to Amber. Gathering information about one of them would serve my father... and serve you, as well." He is silent a long moment. "From what I have heard, nothing has yet been done about Ghenesh."

Random puts the empty beer bottle down on the slate roof and listens as it rolls and slides. It doesn't quite fall off the roof. "Yeah, I've heard stories of them saying generally threatening things in the general direction of your dad and Brennan. The moonrider war was before my time, actually, but everyone older than me was pretty screwed up by it. What do you want to do about Ghenesh?"

"Reconnaissance, to start," Edan replies. "Anything else would depend very much on what I would find. If I find an army marching through a Shadow path to Amber, then my work is done. If I find my sorcery viable in that place, then there might be more... opportunity."

"OK. Get Brennan's info on them and what they might be up to first, since I'm sixty three point one percent sure he wrote a report about it and one hundred percent sure he's got suspicions." The King sits up and picks up a towel. He wipes his face, and then stands. "I'm ready to go in, let's ditch this popsicle stand."

Edan nods and stands. "I had heard of something called a... Trump Booth? A most innovative idea. I shall try it out." He glances over in the direction of the empty bottle and overcomes the impulse to go pick it up. "This actually works better for me. I can guide the _Countess_, as promised. I can see this Trump Booth in Amber. I can attempt to lay a path on my return, and then come back to take Aramsham out into Shadow. I was loathe to leave him here." He smiles, white teeth in a brown face. "And somewhere in all this, I shall have to browse through musical instruments and torture my vocal cords as cousin Folly suggested."

Random nods, and heads towards the door. "Excellent. Xanadu needs more song-and-dance men."

Edan carefully picks his way to the door, behind the king.

A note is delivered to Paige's rooms, the same bleached white paper and crimson wax that Edan has used before, and the seal is the same image of a pouncing sand-tiger. The writing is a little more hurried, though, and the the slant of the letters indicate that he did not bother to hide the fact that he is used to writing right-to-left.

::Sister,

I am preparing to lead another ship to Amber from Xanadu, the _White Countess_ currently at harbor. It may be quite some time, however, before I return- I have questions that cannot be answered here.

I wanted to see you before I left. Also, since we missed each other before, this may be the only chance to create a Trump of me for a long while (if you wished to do so, of course). Do you have some free time today? I will be packing in my rooms, or out and about the castle today.

Your servant,

Edan::

[Paige replies]

::Brother,

You have no idea what pleasure it is to write that word... brother. I would be glad of your company and have no immediate plans. In fact I had thought of giving this day over to Trump anyway, and of all my relations I can't think of a better subject at hand. I can't promise anything more lasting than a sketch, but it should be a beginning. Dress as you would be comfortable and would be remembered and meet me in the entrance hall when you can.

Your sister,

Paige::

Edan comes early; Paige catches him going through some private dance/stretching routine when she arrives. It's clear he wants to be remembered as a dancer, for he wears a simple, loose linen outfit, the color of light sand, that is tied at the ankles and wrists. Soft-soled slippers are on his feet. A long thin curved sword rests in a scabbard close by, along with riding gloves and a turban, in case Paige had riding in mind.

The dance itself could be classified as "modern," though the most remarkable thing is that Edan is doing it with his eyes closed; he seems to be completely lost in the movements and stretching, the long moments of balance where leg muscles bunch and harden but do not tremble, even in the most painful-looking positions. Coming back around to where he left his things, his golden eyes open at the appropriate moment, and he smiles.

"Ahh," he says. "Paige."

"Edan," she replies, mirth sparkling in her eyes. "I have had Pippin readied if you're agreeable to a short ride?

"I haven't seen the Grove since my visit to proto-Xanadu and thought that it might afford us the quiet to talk and a good backdrop all the same." She's dressed in split riding skirts of green brocade with a matching bodice and a white blouse the color of fine unbleached parchment. Over her shoulder is a slightly battered satchel.

"That would be most agreeable," Edan says. "I have not seen the Grove of the Unicorn, even when I was at the stair to Tir. I was, ah, busy." He smiles again. "I rode Aramsham earlier today, have already stabled him and rubbed him down... ahh-h, but if I gambled, I would bet your Pippin pulls a carriage."

"He does, but I'm not sure the carriage would make it up the hill," she says looking toward the top of the cliff. "But I could have Oliver readied quick enough if you'd like to give Aramsham a rest.

"Or we can find someplace else," Paige offers. "I can make my pilgramage tomorrow or the next day, perhaps."

Edan shakes his head in response. "I would like to see the Grove," he says. "Especially to see it in this new place. I would be happy to ride your other horse, or ride double with you on that one."

Paige has Oliver brought around and leads the way up the mountain as best as she can remember. As they ride among the noise of the trees and the falls' roar softens, she asks, "So, not a warrior or a sorcerer, or even a mathematician, but a dancer. May I ask why?"

"It is the essence of who I am," Edan says. "The dance is behind everything I do. No matter how complicated things may become, in that, my life is gloriously simple." He turns to look at Paige while she drives.

"Swordplay is a dance to me, the blades an extension of my body... even the changes and permutations of a battle are merely variations in the steps. Sorcery is the most obvious example of this, for I most often use the movements of my body and hands and fingers to release a part of my own inner fire, give it definition. And mathematics... our father enticed me in the complexities of this science by teaching me the formulae involved in the kinetics of... dancing." He smiles. "Even the use of our power of Pattern is a dance, the manipulation of probability merely steps taken in the mind." He pauses. "Yes. I am a warrior, a sorceror, a theoretical mathematician, a sculptor... but behind it all, I am a dancer. What about you, my sister? If you were to distill who you are, isolate a theme that defines your own life, what would it be?"

Paige chuckles, her smile evident even as she keeps her eyes alert in the tickening wood. "Apparently you haven't been speaking with the right people who have already distilled me."

Edan shrugs and smiles.

"I've been a priestess, a nurse, a courtesan, a student, a teacher, an artist, a model, a swordswoman, a diviner, an activist, a judge and now a mother... Behind it all? A woman, I suppose. Maiden, mother and crone in one redheaded package."

"Cour..." This makes Edan stiffen in his saddle, then look away a moment as the shock passes. Paige can see that the skin at the back of his neck reddens beneath the cinnamon brown.

Paige suppresses a grin and continues without pause...

"I'll admit to being new at the second and well removed from the first," she winks at him. "The third's wisdom... hopefully, I gain a little day by day."

Slowly, he nods in response. "It is a trait that I wish I possessed, myself," he says, and meets her eyes. "Whatever else can be said of us, my sister, we are our father's children."

He glances around, putting something mentally or emotionally behind him, and loosens his sword in its scabbard by habit. "I talked to cousin Folly this morning... she told me of the Dragon that attacked Amber." He fixes his gaze back on his sister. "Would you tell me of what occurred with Daeon and your children?"

"I delayed leaving Amber, hoping that Adonis would return and we could speak on the twins, even when I knew his mother and grandmother were growing stronger in Arcadia and that Pattern, something Amber is noticably lacking, is my greatest defense against them," Paige begins after a moment to collect her words.

"Merlin confirmed that he was on his way, but the delay, in fact the very moment we were speaking on what the future might hold, The Dragon was possessing first a Ranger in the infirmary, then the children's nurse and then the children themselves. She advanced their physical age a good decade at least and I was able to calm the children with Pattern, but it was Adonis that saved them for the moment. Conner and Brita and Solange were all there if I remember, but Adonis drew the Green into himself and immolated. It was enough that our Aunt and Father were able to block Amber from the influence."

She turns wide, a much more gradual rise than the climb she made the last time here. For the next few minutes she focuses on keeping Pippin safe on the rocky slope.

Edan follows, his features etched into a frown; he is silent also, concentrating on keeping this unfamiliar horse safe. At the first opportunity, though, he says, "I mourn for you, Paige, and for him." A pause. "So, then, nothing has been done with this Dragon?"

"Uncle Julian has taken the issue to heart," Paige answers.

Another pause, as they navigate around an outcropping of stones. "This disturbs me greatly, my sister. Part of what I wanted to do was to scout out in the direction of Ghenesh- Father mentioned the Moonriders when I Trumped to Amber. Lo and behold, I find that there is a much more immediate, more deadly problem close to home. Father was not forthcoming to me, not nearly enough." He stares at his sister's back. "My loyalty is to family, Paige. Father, and you. What can I do to protect you? What other threats are out there, ready to fall upon Amber and Xanadu?"

"If you want the current list, you'll have to wait until my next Trump sketch is done," she answers, her tone warm with gratitude. "Brennan is much more in the thick of things, but as they come to mind..." She counts them off on her left hand as the right keeps tight to the reins. "Duchess Dara of Chaos, Merlin's mother, is keen to have him back in Chaos with him. The Moonriders as you mentioned, although I know nothing about that problem. Artemis of Arcadia I would list as a seperate concern from her mother the Dragon. And all that amid Uncle Gerard's legs, Vere's war in the Isles, an un-imprisoned Uncle and a shrinking Amber."

She sighs. "If you need a burden, there's more than enough to pick up, and if father's pointed you at one... well, either you're well suited, or he's being over-protective. Seeing as you're a boy, I'd guess the former."

Edan is silent a moment. "My suitability... is a tale all to itself," he says. "Dara of Chaos, well, I had heard a few stories of the Coronation of our uncle. I shall leave that to uncle Corwin, and to Merlin. Arcadia... now, that is a great worry. But if I enmesh myself in that battle, even if you are affected by it, I may well interfere in uncle Julian's plans. And the other things... they are either issues I am not well equipped to deal with, or sound like personal quests. I have not yet even met Vere, and doubt he would appreciate an unknown cousin appearing in the fight." He gives a wan smile.

"Cousin Conner and Father and I recently met for a meal... we discussed the shrinking of Amber. Father guessed it would be a very long time before it became more than a minor effect. A related issue, though, prompted him to go wherever he is now... I worry for him, I see it as a danger, but it is a thing that I believe he wanted to try himself. I think it is likely that he -has- to do it himself.

"I am still inclined to scout in the direction of Ghenesh, for it is a thing that desperately needs to be done... and be available to you, through that sketch, should you need me. But this uncle, the one that is not-imprisoned, he is a threat?"

"Last heard he was rolling through Shadows with an army, but to be honest, I have no idea as to his attitudes toward Xanadu," Paige admits. "I'd hope the Sketch comes off well enough to last a while, but it should. Xanadu is ordered well, even if the King is less than traditional."

"If I am needed, simply contact me," he says. "I doubt that you would need me, but that would take precedence. I can always return to a scouting task, or the more mundane issue of trade with the Deep Desert, afterwards."

"I've never met a Moonrider, but I've been to Altamar and in fact, I've got one of their knights helping train the children in arms, actually."

"Ahh, yes, Altamar," Edan says. "Father took me through similar shadows, and recited a poem that depicted a few of their more famous deeds." He makes a face. "I recall that each verse had four hundred and fifty-two stanzas."

"It really isn't half as bad as some of the epics that Rein made me commit to memory. Some just cry out for the hand of Mr. Goldman," she answers obliquely. The horses seemed to have circled and climbed the worst of the rise, taking more time than Paige had remembered, but she had been much more aggressive as a climber than she could be as a rider.

"So does Father have some read on the Moonrider's intentions? Does he fear they'll come against Xanadu?" she asks.

"He said that their last meeting, after our Grandfather's funeral, was... unpleasant," Edan says. "That Oberon's crown was the only thing holding them back. I think it is only a matter of time before they test Amber again. Seeing Amber, they may move on to Xanadu." He frowns as he maneuvers his own horse behind Paige's. "There is too much mystery here. We need to know. Someone needs to find out, even just to report that all is well."

"I couldn't think of a better person," Paige says warmly, truly enjoying this time with her brother. "Except for the fact that I won't see you as much, but one hopes that this afternoon's Sketch will help that."

"I will be back," Edan says, and smiles. "Briefly, to try and lay a path from Amber to Xanadu. And to collect Aramsham. But I would be most pleased... for you to contact me, whenever the urge strikes you."

She turns toward the cliff's edge at the waterfall, to see if the unicorn's print remained. Paige also listens for the sound of nearby wildlife. "You know, last we were here, save the flora, we were alone. Not a single animal that we could detect, save a single hoof-print from the line's patron." Hopefully it would give her a direction to navigate from or at least lead her to the river and she could use that.

Edan raises an eyebrow at this, and starts to look around himself for the spot Paige is describing.

It's there, or something is. There's a single, perfect crescent hoofprint in the grassy sward that leads up to the three rock steps. It looks like a stone just under the surface. It wouldn't be remarkable, except it's the only one.

Other than that the greensward is between a dozen feet and a bow-shot in length, ending in a line of trees that Paige recalls as being the edge of a great forest. To the left, the river that forms the waterfall runs into the forest and out of sight. The forest is not too thick for horses to travel through, and it is reminiscent of Arden, but somehow distinct.

The grove Paige recalls is some distance into the forest.

Edan shows he has some skill with horses, as he dances his mount around the hoof-print while he looks down at it.

"Tiny," he says at last. "Like that of a doll."

"I promise you, brother, size doesn't really matter," she chuckles, a smile on her lips.

The back of Edan's neck reddens, just like before.

"So, do we continue onto the Grove, if I can find it again, or accept this small mark as adventure enough for the afternoon and set and sketch a while here?"

After a moment, Edan smiles and swings his leg over to dismount. "Let us take the bird that is in the hand," he says. "We could spend half the night looking. Perhaps you and the children would care to do some exploring with me, compare the old landmarks to the new, sometime after I return?"

"Agreed, if I haven't run off to run down mysterious Smiths and Blades of Power[tm]," his sister nods. She dismounts gracefully and produces a large blanket that she helps him spread it out on the greensward. She puts her back to the forest and draws her sketchbook from her satchel. As the redhead settles on the blanket, her smile grows again. "Dance for me?"

Edan adopts a pose that is reminiscent of Tai Chi, but his troubled look belies the centering effect the dance is supposed to have. It is picked, of course, because of its slow movements and almost-poses. As he pushes his arms forward, early in the dance, he says, "You are braver than I, my sister, to want a sword like that. There is a price that I would not pay. A price that I think Father is dealing with, even now."

"Has he been more forthcoming about what that price is?" she asks as she starts with broad strokes, like flames emanating from the center of his being, the sketch grows outward. "As I mentioned, it's not anything he's shared with me, although he's offered to distract me with conjury instruction.

"And to be honest, I don't think I need a Pattern blade. Perhaps there's some middle ground, some dragonsbane or something."

Edan slides into a pose that is usually associated with renaissance dancers: right arm stretched up to the sky, balanced on the ball of his right foot, leaft arm outward for balance and his left leg up and bent. After a moment, he grabs his left foot with his left hand and stretches so that his right arm is out and his left foot is almost touching the back of his head.

He moves to a more normal pose, and Paige can see that he's taken the time to deliberate on an answer. "I will share part of a conversation between Father, cousin Conner, and myself. The rest is supposition." He looks at Paige as he moves. "There are a limited number of Pattern blades. Each is associated with a Pattern. Grayswandir, for example, is tied to the Pattern of Tir-na Nog'th. Father's is associated with the Pattern of Amber." He pauses. "When I arrived here, Father said that he was amazed that he had lived through the breaking of the Pattern of Amber. So, where does that leave him? It cannot help that a third of the support between Pattern, sword, and wielder is gone. I think that Werewyndle has bound itself more tightly to Father, and Father to the sword."

Edan pauses again, goes through a series of slow turns. "During lunch with Conner, Father revealed an... anomaly... in the equations dealing with the Patterns. That anomaly may exist because of the nature of Tir-na Nog'th. It is a strange place. Then again, it may exist because there is another reflection of the Primal pattern, one that we have not yet seen. Father has gone to explore this." He glances back at Paige. "It is telling, that he has waited until now to do this thing. It tells me that he has no other choice. Do you see? He is vulnerable without his sword bound to a Pattern. If he actually finds this anomaly, finds that there is another Pattern out there, I believe he will try to somehow connect himself to it."

"You're suggesting a reflection other than Tir, Xanadu, Paris or Rebma?" Paige asks. As much as she loves the extention her brother shows, well... the chauvenism of her uncles will be heaped upon a dancer's Trump to begin with. She keeps the sketch, but moves on for the moment. The Tai Chi, bound flame, directed by her brother's movements, even in dance. "The explosions in the background when he and I spoke... guess I should've paid more attention.

"Did he say where or what suggested this course of action?"

"No," Edan replies, shaking his head. Finishing the dance movement, he sits down to stretch. "It is an... educated guess. As you probably know, Father has the ability to say much without really saying anything. And he has the hubris to believe that he can handle such a thing alone... you know, despite many mathematical models, I cannot support his assertion that the universe revolves around himself."

"Of course not, it revolves around my children," she chuckles.

"So, Corwin attuned the Jewel and created Paris's Pattern, Random attuned the Jewel and created Xanadu's. I wonder if Brand ever attuned it and if he had the same compulsions. I don't know that anyone's had the full extent of the the Jewel's tale between Grandfather's death and the Jewel making it to Chaos."

Paige likes the relaxed set of his face and adds a quick bit to the marginalia that surround the actual Sketch. The dry humor, that was in the dark eyes.

"Perhaps that's what Troublemaker's playing with now."

"It is possible," Edan agrees. He looks down at his feet. "I reasoned that he would not tell you anything. You have his Trump- it would not hurt to check on his well-being occasionally." He smiles as he looks back to his sister. "How is it coming?"

"It takes a little time and effort," she admonishes gently. "Give me a watch or so and I'll be able to tell you. If time is of a concern, I can attempt it without you, but I'm not familiar enough to know that I'll succeed."

It is going remarkably well. Xanadu has that something that Amber used to have. There's a definite edge to painting here. It would take Paige a month to paint a permanent sealed trump of Edan, which is about as quickly as she's ever done a trump of anyone except herself. She can have a sketch that will last some months in as little as a watch. How long does she sketch?

A watch for the Sketch at the moment. We'll discuss real Trumps soon.

She looks up again at him stopping the sketching for a moment. "It'll all effect the lifespan of the Sketch, the lighting, the preliminaries, the model's presence, personal connection, the investiture of time in creation... all as much, or together more, than my personal ability and skill."

Edan smiles. "It would probably help if I did not have the attention span of a hummingbird..."

"To be honest, while it came fairly easily to me, I was far from Brand's best student. Hells, my own student, Merlin, is better than me," she smiles as she picks up the sketching again. "Ossian has an... well ocean of talent and skill to boot. Reid learned from Dworkin himself and passed much to Brita. I was really drawn to the Trump more for the Fortunes than anything." And entirely too drawn to Brand.

"I expect Folly to outpace me in no time." Next she'll be learning property law, too.

Paige stands abruptly, setting the sketch on the blanket and walks over to her brother. "Dance with me?" she asks extending a long fingered hand.

The smile becomes impish. He takes her hand, stands up with that supple movement that comes from years of living on cushions instead of chairs, and says, "Anything in particular? I might even be able to arrange music..."

She shrugs and smiles at him, "You lead and I'll follow." Even as they begin, her whole attention is for his face, the nuance, the attitude and grace of movement. But she knew there was stone beneath the fire, strength that she had seen in Tyrell. She needed to capture that as well.

"Let us do something you are likely familiar with," Edan says. He speaks a Word and makes a gesture, then takes Paige's hand and leads her into a ballroom dancing pose.

[OOC: He's going for an instantaneous gesture in Xanadu to create a minor effect of music for a couple of minutes. If it doesn't work, that's fine, he can just do a four-count and lead Paige into the dance.]

Music swells in the air, as if from nowhere and everywhere. It sounds percussive, but melodic, perhaps a Qanoon.

Edan has a dancer's physique, with muscles developed in all the right places; he is thin, however, almost painfully thin, as if all the moisture was burned from his body before taking the Pattern. He has the look of someone who spends a fraction of each day in long, painful, violent exercise.

Noticing, he says, "I have to work hard to maintain myself this way... my body is involved in my sorcery. I must know each muscle, each nerve binding... I must know myself. Otherwise, the spells suffer." Another interesting thing is that he doesn't seem to sweat. His skin grows warm when they dance, but he seems far from the threshold where he needs to cool down.

The steps are hesitant at first, but as they grow more comfortable with one another he tries all the dips and spins and poses that she would expect with this kind of dance. Edan is just a little too calm, and that speaks volumes; by the end of the dance, Paige knows that Edan is capable of being just as wild as herself or Bleys; his only difference is that he's managed to repress most of these impulses.