Burning the Midnight Oil

Paige knocks on the door that Liam promised her would be right. Part of her knows it and she was as prepared as she could be even as she knows that she needs to run from this door, this castle, this kingdom. "I hear Paris is nice this time of year," she chuckles to herself nervously as she waits for the answer, hoping that he wasn't there.

The note from Folly, scrawled in pencil on a page from her sketch-book, says "Paige -- Sorry I missed you! If you have a little time this evening, come find me when you get in. We have a lot of catching up to do." It's clutched in her hand and she's crumpled and flattened it a dozen times unconsciously.

The door opens a moment later to reveal Folly, holding Fathom in one hand -- he's grown since Paige last saw him, but his kitten nature is still very much apparent as he bats and bites at the ends of Folly's hair -- and a charcoal pencil in the other. "Paige!" she says brightly. "I'm so glad we haven't missed each other again. Please, come in!" She glances at the pencil as if momentarily unsure what to do with it, but then tucks it behind her ear so she can offer her friend a hug.

Paige hugs back, a little stiffly, perhaps for Fathom's sake or overcompensation for swollen bellies or something. Paige is dressed in comfortable blue jeans and a simple wrap around top and simple leather sandals. She's carrying more weight than she had before the children were born, as if she had decided that it was alright for a mother to have a few more curves.

The sitting room has not been lived in long enough to be a complete mess yet, but there are sketches and correspondence strewn across the coffee table and shoes and clothing stashed in odd places. Another cat, this one large and mostly-black, watches Paige from the windowseat through half-closed eyes.

"Please, sit," Folly says, gesturing to the couch. "Make yourself comfortable. Can I get you anything? How've you been?" She seems giddy and excited and nervous all at once.

Paige sits on the couch her long fingers pulling her feet up beneath her. "No, nothing for me. I picked at the kids' leftovers," she answers in place of, /My stomach's doing tricks that would make Jules Leotard dizzy./ "I'm good, thanks. Trying to get the kids settled and keep them dressed and human is occupying most of my time," she says conversationally.

Folly is carefully untangling the cat from her hair, so she catches the 'human' part of that statement half a beat too late. She sets Fathom down and looks quizzically at Paige; but before she can formulate a question, Paige continues:

"You look..." Paige bites her lip and breathes deeply as a multitude of words tumble through her head until the right one makes her smile. A smile that slowly creeps into her eyes where it hadn't reserved any space and has to displace a few tears. "You look beautiful.

"I've missed you."

"Oh, sweetie---" Folly sits on the couch and takes Paige's hand, holding it between both of her own. Her eyes are wide with emotion. "I've missed you, too. So much has happened these last couple of months, and I -- I don't want it hanging over us, you know?" She offers up a rueful little smile and squeezes Paige's hand.

Paige nods, more than once abruptly. "He told me at the ball, but we've all been so busy...

"And you've learned to sketch? That's great. I'm surprised he's OK with that," she says as her eyes dart about the room looking for the ones that feel like more than charcoal and parchment. "I'm NOT calling him controlling or anything, just... well, he's an Amberite, damn near immortal from a family line that had people who've regenerated eyes for heaven's sakes, and he still sports that mess over such a lovely stomach, y'know?

"So who taught you?" She knew she was rambling, but the Artistry was supposed to deflect the conversation from the Heir Presumptive Elephant in the room, not turn it back to him.

"Paige. Sweetie." Folly's voice -- when Paige finally slows down enough to let her get a word in -- is gentle, almost pleading. "It's okay. I think we need to talk about it. YOU need to talk about it." She strokes the back of Paige's fingers, soothingly. "I know that you love me, and you want to hear all about what I've been up to, just as I want to hear all about you, and your travels, and the twins, and--- But I also know that you're... hurt, and sad, and angry, and all manner of other things, and I know you're trying to put it behind you, but if you bottle it up it'll only come slipping out again at the most inopportune times. So--- please, sweetie. Tell me how you feel. All of it."

"I promise that you don't want to hear all of it, and what is bottled, well it's like wine," she chuckles, not looking her lover in the eye. "Either in the end it'll be something well aged and worthy of bringing out for the appropriate moment, or it'll be vinegar and something to be disposed of.

"I'll be fine. I dealt with losing him years ago, Folly. You know that. You were there for damn near every tear, every irrational screaming jag that I went off on. You know all of this, so why rehash it?" Who's was that venomous voice that suggested that perhaps Folly's own guilt needed this closure. Paige shook it off and Don't accuse her of trying to deal with her own guilt. "If you're worried about the inopportune moment, I'll Trump Corwin and find myself and the children a home there."

"Paige---" There's an edge in Folly's voice of frustration, exasperation. "So the decision to tell the king that Martin referred to me as his wife -- that was a deliberate choice, then? Motivated by what?"

"Spite," she answers simply. "Folly, I've seen him come back from these sort of crusades, missions, whatever-he-calls-them and I've been there to put him back together and send him back out.

"You and the King seemed worried enough to mount a rescue and Martin treated me like I was some kid sister getting in his way. Take a step back and ask why he made the deliberate choice to refer to you like that in front of me?" The tears haven't stopped, but there's more steel in Paige's voice as she continues.

"What are you looking for? That I care for him? Doesn't take a reading to see that in the cards. That I'm going to miss you? That I don't know what the heck I'm feeling about your pregnancy? I don't bottle things up, and that's always been my problem, hasn't it?"

"I'm sorry, Paige," Folly says, tears welling up in her eyes, now, too. "I'm just... scared. I know you were upset with Martin, but it scares me a little that you'd let me be collateral damage in trying to get back at him. Or maybe---" Her voice is small and meek. "Or maybe you're mad at both of us, and were trying to swipe at us both in one go?"

The new mother lifts the expecting mother's chin, their eyes meeting. "I'm not mad at either of you, I promise. That was a little bit of tit for tat, he sniped at me, I sniped back. Until I saw Syd's reaction I assumed that with the pregnancy and Martin's use of the phrase that he probably already knew. I didn't mean to hurt you."

Folly gives a tiny nod and blinks back her tears.

"It's going to be hard, love," Paige continues. "He doesn't trust me and I have a selective memory... I keep expecting him to match me, to be my opposite number, instead of yours. I can't blame you for loving him, but I can't lie to you and tell you that it doesn't hurt.

"And no matter what has gone, I know him well enough to know that he isn't going to share you with me," she says with her eyes closed. "I'll make my requests to Corwin on finding a place for the children and my regrets to Syd." She shakes her head as she knew that this decision had to be made. Xanadu was Random's and therefore Martin's home. She'd never belong here.

"Don't be daft, love," Folly says, and scowls, though it's more of an affectionate pout than a sign of deep anger. "I mean, do what you think is best for you and the little ones, of course, but---" She reaches out and strokes Paige's hair. "Don't go assuming that it's the only choice. Martin cares about what I want, too, you know. We can work it out."

"Has he told you that, Folly? Can you honestly tell me that I've been a topic of conversation? You've got to know that you can't make promises for him, even if it's what you want," Paige argues.

Folly sighs. "But that's what I'm trying to TELL you, sweetie, we HAVE talked about it---" She clearly intended to say more, but something -- perhaps something in Paige's expression -- stops her. She frowns thoughtfully.

Rationalization and denial, gods, she's dying. How long to bargaining and acceptance? "You're learning Trump, and obviously from someone better than me, so I'll never be too far away.

"And the twins, until they find themselves will be a magnet to danger." Her hand moves to Folly's swollen belly. "You don't need that."

"Yeah." Folly lays her hand on Paige's, and much of her frustration seems to dissipate. "Not so much with the danger right now." She looks down at their hands, and then up into Paige's eyes. "Tell me about them? About the twins?"

Paige smiles, "They're wonderful... frustrating... wonderfully frustrating. Beautiful, not any older since Adonis's memorial, thankfully, and smart if tainted by their father's stubborn streak.

"Which brings me to think, that if he's OK with us being here, and Random's already accepted the danger... Hannah's not about. She's off dealing with your foster dad's legs. If you want me, I can midwife for you." Gods, her thoughts and words are like a tie-dyed ping-pong ball at a springbreak frat party.

Folly opens her mouth, closes it, confused, opens it again. "Wait, what?" Her brow furrows as she connects the dots through those rapidly-changing topics. "Hannah is---? Wait, where's Gerard? Have they made progress?" That last is tinged with cautious optimism.

"I really don't know," she admits. "I just know that they left for Shadow."

"So, how far along are you and who's started your instruction?" Paige asks, mixing topics gratuitously.

"I'm into the second tri---" Folly begins, but then looks at Paige and blinks. "Wait, are we talking about pregnancy or trumps?" An amused look lights up her eyes; she scrunches up her nose and shakes her head. "Focus!!!" she says, laughing, and gently but firmly puts her hands on the sides of Paige's head as if to stop her thoughts from ping-ponging about.

She drops a kiss on Paige's forehead. "Okay, trumps. It was Dworkin. I went wandering off with him about... oh, a couple of months ago, I guess, although where we went I couldn't keep track of time, and we talked about all kinds of things, and now I'm working out how to do trumps." She pauses with a bit of an impish grin. "And your brother is trading me maths lessons for music lessons, if we're in the same place long enough to work it out. You'll still help me get better with trumps, won't you?"

"Any way I can, of course," Paige replies. "I had heard that he made an appearance after Adonis's memorial." The redhead bites her bottom lip and then shrugs as she releases it. "Last time before that was Oberon's funeral procession in Chaos. I suppose I'll have to kill someone to get a word with him myself," she jokes.

"But really, I don't know what I can teach you that he can't. He taught Reid and Brand," she offers as if it's some sort of explanation. "Merlin's a better hand than I have, honey. I push through on raw talent, or something."

"Yes, but as you've just pointed out, it's not like Dworkin is all that available for additional lessons," Folly counters with a smile. "I figure he'll check back in on me in a year or a hundred, and I'd like someone to bounce ideas off in the meantime. And yes, Merlin is a great artist, but I think we'd lack a sufficiently common frame of reference. Whereas you and I...." Her smile deepens, though there is a trace of melancholy around the edges. "I'd really rather you didn't move away to Paris."

"OK, twist my arm," Paige chuckles. "I can offer what help I can, but even if it only worked once, that Sketch worked."

"Which reminds me. Obviously the King knows about your Sketching. He hasn't suggested where he's painting the bullseye for Castle Trumps, has he?" Paige asks.

"Ah, yes!" Folly says brightly. She rummages around among the sketches scattered on the coffee table until she comes up with a few landscape sketches-- the same scene from different angles, all in rough charcoals with just a few spots of colored-pencil shading for reference. Paige may recognize the road up to the castle. The sketches don't have any power in them; they're clearly studies for a future work. "I made these after brunch today. This place is so... alive, you know?... that I feel like I could dash out a whole pile of working sketches in just a few days, but I don't know how long they'd last. I'm still thinking about what materials I'd want to use for the permanent ones." She hands the sketches to Paige and regards her thoughtfully. "Do you make your own paints?"

Paige is examining the sketches carefully. "Hmm? Most of what I do is pastel painting, but yes, I've been known to make my own crayons. Most of my pigments the last few years I've gotten from a chemist in Heerat who used to be a regular at Maria's. Not one of mine, but he knew I drew."

Folly nods.

"Yes, Xanadu is like Amber used to be, and how I'd expect Paris is," the redhead agrees.

"It's wild," Folly says, awed. "But in a good way. I get now what you've all been missing."

"Now, the pregnancy?" Paige asks.

Folly bites her lower lip and smiles. "Also wild in a good way. And almost entirely unexpected. I'm a little shy of halfway through. Did I mention Dworkin did weird things with time? So one moment I was thinking about how to capture my own essence in a trump, and the next moment I just... knew. I can feel her, sometimes, just here." She puts her hand on her belly, a bit below her navel and a little off-center.

Paige's hand covers hers. "I was serious about the midwife thing, if Hannah doesn't have dibs or something.

"Of course, I have no idea how long I'll be about. Brennan's trying to seduce me into doing what I want and not what Troublemaker suggests." She shrugs and lets out a little sigh.

"We'll play it by ear," Folly says. "I'll be glad for your advice during my pregnancy for as long as you're here -- and you said Hannah is out of Xanadu right now anyway, yes? As for the actual birth---" Her voice grows very gentle. "I'll have to talk with Martin about it before we come to any conclusions, I think. Apparently---" She rummages about in the papers on the coffee table 'til she comes up with a glossy brochure titled 'Your Pregnancy And You'. She flips it open and frowns at it a moment, then offers it to Paige. "---we're meant to be writing a 'birth plan'."

Paige chuckles at the image that pops into her head of Martin at a baby shower, opening gifts of pink lace and frills with Vialle trying to be the mistress of ceremonies.

The last part of Paige's statement filters through her hormone-addled brain. "Wait, what is this thing you want to do that Brennan's trying to talk you into?"

"I want to deal with the Dragon, put some closure on the situation and ensure that my kids aren't threatened by her again," Paige explains. "I've been noodling about the idea of hunting down the smith that created the Pattern weapons and seeing what he could do for me."

"So, um... just what is this Dragon, anyway?" Folly asks, concerned. "And what was it after, do we know? Martin said it was attacking psychically -- would a sword even work against something like that?"

"The Dragon has a form, yes, and a Patternblade is how Corwin dealt with it when he was Warden of Arden," she explains. "As to what she is? She's Family in some obscure way before even being the twin's greatgrandmother. Dragon - Artemis - Adonis."

Folly frowns, concerned.

"She attacked mentally, yes, possession or Deep Green infection as the Rangers call it, but Pattern is the defense. I really don't know what the offense is, in fact no one seems to have a good answer for that."

"So you're looking into a Pattern-infused blade just for defense, then?" Folly's frown deepens. "You have reason to believe that the Pattern of Xanadu is not defense enough?"

"Oh, no," Paige shakes her head. "I'm not looking for defense at all. Xanadu is that, and the children while they might run off into the wood at the top of the cliff hunting rabbits and the like, well, they're pretty much stuck here until they take the Pattern and they're not ready for that yet.

"Come on," Paige laughs. "I'm considering an adventure with Brennan. Does he seem the sort to covet a defensive weapon?"

"So... the blade would not be for you, then?" Folly asks. Her eyes narrow in thought.

"I don't know yet," she admits. "I'm not sure the King wants me tying myself to his shiny new Pattern anyway. I'm hoping there's some other price to be paid for something offensive, but I just don't really know."

"Be careful," Folly says. "Not just about getting a blade, but... all of it. If the Dragon really is Family---" She bites her lip and frowns thoughtfully. "But I'm sure you already know better than to strike at her rashly."

"Frak that," Paige replies. "She should've known better than to try to possess my children. Kid gloves are off, family or not. I'm not the forgiving soul your ex is."

Her frown remains, but Folly decides to let the subject drop for now.

"Anyway, you keep referring to a girl. Do you know, suppose, or is it reflex?"

Folly looks at Paige with a little smile. Her eyes widen suddenly. "Oh!" she says, "I'd almost forgotten--- Did I tell you I walked the Pattern?"

"No, somehow I missed that," the redhead admits. "Visions of the future instead of the past? Makes me worry about Merle's visions then.

"Anyway, that's great. Wait, were you with child already?"

Folly's eyes widen and she shakes her head. "I can't imagine any unborn child would survive the strain, unless she's got a mother a hell of a lot stronger than I am. But yeah, I... saw some things on my walk. Some of them I know are the past, and some I don't know what they are, really. I thought at the time it might be the soul of Xanadu talking to me directly. Or maybe me talking to myself." The corner of her mouth quirks into a self-deprecating smile.

She regards Paige with a more serious expression. "You've talked to Merle, then? Martin told me a little of what happened on his walk, but...." She shakes her head. "Is he okay?"

"I haven't seen him since he went off with Celina," Paige admits. "He seemed OK, just concerned about what happened. Corwin hadn't said a thing about it, so I figured it was something internal, like his heritages fighting for control."

Folly gives a slight nod.

"Of course then there was the Dutchess's henchman that looked just like the vision. So, I really don't know. Has Martin said something?" There's a tightness in Paige's eyes that isn't reflected in the question.

"Not much, just that Merle seemed pretty freaked out by the whole thing." Folly's brow furrows. "Um. 'Dutchess's henchman'?" she asks.

"The one that took out Brita's knee," Paige clarifies. "I think Ambrose referred to him as Cleph. I don't know if Merlin saw him, but Benedict with two arms does it."

Folly folds her arms across her belly. "Ah, yes, Martin said Brennan brought his baby brother to the funeral. Has young Ambrose broken with his homicidal associates, or are we making nice with the whole cabal now?"

"Just Ambrose," Paige explains. "His alignment with Dara and Cleph were hold overs from his father's alliances. He was also under the misconcieved notion that we were holding Merle against his will.

"Last I heard Ambrose has sworn to Random," she finishes, almost before a silly smile crosses her face. "And Ossian is making peace with his father." Her expression dares Folly to ask.

"His f--- Oh, wait, you mean Ossian's father...." A look of relief crosses Folly's face, followed closely by curiosity. "He's found out who his father is, then?" she asks eagerly.

"Right, that'd be making peace with his grandfather," Paige hints. "Ambrose is only his uncle."

Folly thinks about that for just an instant before she starts to laugh, appreciatively and infectiously. "Oh, the universe has a strange sense of humor, doesn't it?" she says when she has caught her breath again. "It must take after its father."

"Its enigmatic mother made Random our King," Paige reminds her as the laughter infects her. "She's not exactly innocent, either."

Folly wipes tears of mirth from her eyes. "I must confess to feeling the teeniest bit disappointed, though. Ossian and I have long talked of being siblings, but--- Well. Brennan may be many things, but 'stupid enough to sleep with my mother' is not one of them." She looks at Paige and grins.

"Damn straight. Even I don't make mistakes of that caliber," she says with mock piety. "Well, maybe I do, but..."

"Oh!" Folly adds suddenly. "That reminds me, I have had some news on that front myself. And... ah. I think I may need some advice."

Paige is still laughing. "You're sleeping with your mother? I'd think it's better than your hubby doing it."

Folly folds her arms across her chest and makes a face. "No, we're not that stupid either, thank you very much. We are only stupid enough to have suggested that my husband flirt with my mother. Which, ah. Yes, maybe a little bit stupid."

She unfolds herself and continues more seriously: "If you've talked to Soren at all, you've probably already gathered that I spent a little time in Texorami after the Coronation. Syd sent us on a mission to retrieve Soren, and the plan was that we'd go get him and then wait for Syd to contact us when he was ready. But since, unbeknownst to us, the thing that he needed to do before he was ready was to come here, and make this---" Folly gestures broadly to the space around them. "Well. We ended up with a little time to kill, and I figured as long as I was in the neighborhood, I should check up on Mum. You know, let her know that her daughter who'd gone missing nine years ago, Texorami-time, was fine and healthy and stuff. And maybe also find out what she could tell me about my father. My biological father, I mean."

Folly draws her knees up in front of her chest. "We showed her Martin's trumps, and although she didn't identify any of our represented kinsmen as her lover, she did recognize Julian's picture. From sketches in her grandmother's diary." She pauses, and looks at Paige. "It seems my mother's father is Julian's heretofore-unknown son."

"Sure he's unknown?" Paige muses. "From the Texorami stories I've heard, it's too much glass, steel, and plastic for Brij to be a sib to the twins, but it could be Jovian's sort of place."

Folly cocks her head in thought. After a few moments, she says, "I don't think so. If nothing else, there's what Mum said about her father: she hasn't seen him since he took off to 'defend his primal woods' from developers or something. Which actually sounds a little like Adonis, but I know he was born someplace besides Texorami. My grandfather's a native of my shadow."

Folly rests her chin on her knees and looks at Paige. "I wrote Julian a letter explaining the situation as I understand it. But with all that's going on... well, I hardly expect he'll be inviting me to tea anytime soon, you know? Which is why I could use a little advice. About... what to do about my mother."

"Like, do you invite her here to take the Pattern or such?" Paige guesses. "Wow.... like... wow."

Folly nods. "I'm not sure 'take the Pattern' is even an option for her, but otherwise... yeah. Exactly." Her brow creases with worry. "I plan to tell her I'm getting married, and that she's gonna be a grandmother. Depending how she reacts, I'll either invite her to the wedding or leave her to her peace, such as it is. I just... I can't quite decide what else to tell her, you know?" She shakes her head. "What do you think? Or to frame it another way: If you knew Harmony Vesper was Julian's granddaughter, would you tell her -- and why or why not?"

"Take the Pattern is a option for everyone," Paige comments with a devilish grin. "Survival, well, it's too easy a way out for your husband for me to really consider."

Folly offers up a grim smile. "No, if my mother kills herself, she'll do it on her own terms."

"If you bring her this far, you can't trust anyone else to not says something stupid. You probably need to be honest with her I'd think. Let her make her own decisions," she admits. "So, if she makes it here for the brouhaha, then she's all in. Of course keeping her in Texorami is a plan, too."

Folly nods.

"Would I tell Harmony? I don't think that it's fair to your mother to make the comparison," Paige chuckles.

"You haven't met my mother," Folly replies with a wry smile.

"Why to tell her? The stock answer is, it's her birthright and heritage and she's entitled to it. There were rumors that Solace might be Eric's. I don't know that Lucas has told her, but I think she deserves to know.

"I'm also not one to mess about in somebody's marriage is no one's getting hurt," the redhead shrugs.

"Not telling her? For her own safety if you think she's too set in her ways to listen to the King's advice on what it means to be Family and is just going to immolate herself in the basement."

"Or she comes here and goes right back to trying to control my life, just the way she used to," Folly says with a shrug. "I am at a bit of an advantage now, I suppose -- Pattern initiate and all. Still...." She sighs. "Ah, well, I guess I'll burn that bridge when I come to it."

"We can make it clear that no one runs you except maybe your Prince Harming," Paige winks. "We've dealt with Harmony, haven't we?"

She pauses, and her mood grows suddenly more somber. "How was the funeral?"

"Cathartic," Paige answers. "If you get to Amber, you should see the cairn. Brita even made a fountain-spring-stream thing." Her own thoughts turn back and her eyes lose their brightness. She grips Folly's hand and bites her bottom lip.

"I'm still mad at him, but not as much as I am at myself."

"At yourself?" Folly says gently. She squeezes Paige's hand. "Why, sweetie?"

"I should've gotten the kids out of Amber sooner. I knew that it was weak against her influences and that Pattern would be their shield, but I waited for him. I thought he could part of their lives." She shakes her head. "Instead I left them exposed to her and he died for them.

"He's dead because I was stupid."

Folly lays her free hand along the side of Paige's face and looks deep into her eyes. "No, love," she says gently but firmly, "he's dead because he made a choice. But even in that choice, I know he would never begrudge you your hope for the children. Your hope for family."

"A choice I forced him into," Paige says more angry than sad. "If I had done what I knew was right instead of waiting for him when I should've just listened to Julian. But I thought I knew better, that there was something more to him, that maybe it... maybe I had meant more than a quick piece of ass.

"You want to know the kicker? If I had kept them safe, he'd still be no part of their lives. His focus when he did arrive was all his other children and hoping that I could summon some part of him that would suit." If Paige's eyes seem to shine a little bit more, perhaps it's just the light as she looks away from Folly.

"Willing to die for his children. Bullshit. Try living for them."

Folly looks at Paige in grim sympathy. She opens her mouth to respond, but closes it again and wraps her arms around her friend instead.

Paige holds Folly tightly and the tears do finally come. After a few moments she's wiping her eyes, with a wry grin. "I should make sure the kids are OK," she offers as an excuse for her leaving. "But we need some more time like this. I missed you... both of you."

Folly nods in agreement. "And I still need to meet your children. Soon." She brushes tears tenderly from Paige's cheek.

She kisses Folly gently and heads for the door.

The redhead stops at the door and before leaving, adds, "I'm happy for all three of you, really," and blows a kiss goodbye.

Folly smiles her gratitude and blows an affectionate goodnight kiss.

Eventually something was going to give she decided, but for the moment, it couldn't be the time with the children, so it would have to be her sleep. A watch might be barely enough for a sketch of a brother who was dancing about when he was supposed to be modeling, but Brennan...

Paige took one last look to ensure that Brooke and Leif were sleeping and settled in with her supplies and sketchbook. The hand over the rook... definitely a signature image, his eyes so much like his father's for intensity, but so like her father's in shape. The ruby ring of the martial knight-commanders. Heck, even Folly had been knighted, she thought before focusing on the task at hand. She light another lamp and found a newly prepared page. She closed her eyes and using the sketch as reference, concentrated on those moments she seemed to know him best, across the chessboard. Her hand picked up the pastels and began with the line of his jaw, strong and determined, even before she opened her eyes again...

The time is fruitful and by morning, she had something. If he had been here, it would have been easier. Xanadu had that same something Amber used to have. Trump creation was easier. Paige just made right moves. It wouldn't last forever, perhaps not even a month, but it should work for some time.

"Well, no time like the present," she said to herself as she looked into the eyes and willed the hand to move, or the background to reflect his current location...

Brennan's face comes into stark relief, surrounded by the green and shadow of a magnificently kept garden. It is daytime in Paris, but wherever the Sun is, Brennan isn't standing in it. He's also scowling rather fiercely, thoughts racing under the surface of his temples, then a moment later his eyes un-narrow and his chin raises marginally in recognition.

"Cousin," he says, "I'm in Paris."

"I'm in Xanadu and as you suggested, working on appropriate Sketches," Paige says. She looks a bit tired but the sun is low on the horizon if it's angle through the window speaks of anything. "I hope I'm not intruding."

Brennan has enough grace not to say, "Nothing important," out loud, but not quite enough not to think it. He does seem mildly taken aback that someone has actually followed through on one of his suggestions.

"Only on a liesurely luncheon with our most Dazzling Aunt," he says, "catching up on Hope and Phillipe's latest, and of course, Solace's health." He frowns again. "All is well with the twins?"

"As well as can be," Paige allows. "And Cambina?" She does well not to let any suggestive tone or expression into the question.

"Enjoying Paris such as we can," Brennan says. "I've promised her a private sea voyage back to Amber."

"I hope I might get a month here out of this Sketch, but these things can be capricious. My father's offered to teach me conjury in greater depth to forestall my delving into other topics. I might have some new information for you, but I fear Father's less than forthcoming, for my own protection." A small line forms on her forehead, breaking the mask with a bit of true... annoyance?

"I have some of my own, as well. My plans are these: to finish up some brief business in Paris that yet remains, to sail back to Amber, and hopefully in that time come up with a more direct plan of search. Yours?"

"A sketch of Xanadu and some finishing touches on my Sketch of Brotherly Reinforcements. Beyond that, dealing with former lovers and new social dynamics," she chuckles in a tone more weary than warm. "But how is that news?"

"That first one will be a collector's item, if it lasts. When I go, are you coming with?" Brennan asks.

"Not sure that I'll finish first. Folly's giving me a run for my money," Paige explains. "She did the Sketch of whatever hospital she had left her terrorist lover, the heir presumptive, within the day before yesterday."

Small gears grind for a moment as Brennan processes that, partitions the information, and isolates what he considers to be particularly surprising: "I didn't know she could do that," he says. "On glancingly the same subject, though, here's a questionfor you: Did you have to ask Brand for lessons? Or did he offer them to you?"

"I asked, but I met him in Shadow, not through Troublemaker or my Aunt," Paige explains. "So, I can't answer if was put in a position where he wanted me to ask, either."

Brennan grunts, unsure whether or not he got the answer he was expecting. "Interesting." He wipes a faint sheen of perspiration from his forehead with the back of his hand. It's the hand that still has the knife in it.

"My guess is that I'll be back in Amber in seven, perhaps ten days time, as I'll have it, and free to depart then. Shall we rendezvous then? Or did you want to give me the information now?

"We can talk then and if you wish a quick way to Xanadu after you make call in Amber, I could offer you the loan of a card," she suggests.

"You have a card in the booth?" he asks. "Done."

"No, but I have one here in my hand. Somehow I've never gotten around to dropping one off for the booth," she smiles innocently. Her other hand spins the trump last used by the King. "10 days? I might even make you one to keep, if your girlfriend won't get jealous."

His eyebrow raises. "You have been busy, haven't you?" If Paige extends her own Trump to him, Brennan will reach out his own hand to take it, then blink at the knife in his hand for a moment. He sheathes it, reaches again. "Under the circumstances, I think she'll understand. But I wouldn't ask her to babysit, if I were you."

"Noted," Paige nods as she hands him the Trump. "I want to go, Brennan, deeply, but... well, perhaps once you're nearer a leaving date I'll have grown a set and made a decision without my father's badgering."

"We'll work it out then," Brennan says, taking the Trump.

"Be well, and offer my best to Solace and the children, and all the others of course."

"Of course. I'll see you soon, I expect."

"Engraved silver depth charges, my ass," he adds to no one in particular, closing the grate behind him and turning to go.