After departing from the waterfall, Jerod returns to his guest quarters and picks up what little he had brought with him, which turns out unsurprisingly to be very little.
He summons a page to arrange for a sturdy riding mount from his majesty's stables, and wondering if Random has gotten to that part of his castle quite yet. At that point, he decides it will be interesting to find out and sends the page off to arrange the mount.
The page arranges for a horse to be available at the castle gates. It's unclear where the horse came from, but it is well-groomed and in good shape. It's not the highest quality horse Jerod has ever seen, but it looks good for the ride.
There is a saddlebag on the horse already.
Jerod checks the contents, looking the animal over with a critical eye. One cannot be choosy of course, and when he gets to Paris he'll be able to transfer to his own horse once more, assuming he makes a return trip to Xanadu from there.
If Random's message is already in the saddlebag, Jerod examines it carefully. He wants to be sure his name has not been changed to Rosencratz. Not that he doesn't trust his uncle...:)...but it's always a good thing to be careful.
It is and it is not sealed. It says:
Xanadu's King Random to his most sublime sister monarch, Moire of Rebma, Greetings and Salutations.
As you are no doubt aware, Martin my son has accepted the rights and duties of a Prince of Xanadu.
Now he fulfills one of the duties thereinto, to wit taking unto himself a wife to make himself happy
And to increase the royal household of Xanadu. His bride is a great lady of our court.
Due to his matrilineal heritage, we thought you should not only be informed, but invited to the festivities.
Understandably, you will wish to know more. Your grandson my nephew who delivers this missive is
Directed hereinto to tell you what my son wishes you know of the match, of which Xanadu and Amber approve (because they're me).
Excelsior!,
[It is signed with a large "R. Rex". The x is two small crossed drumsticks.]
Jerod smiles at the drumstick notation. Dad would have thought it silly, but would still have approved - a King makes their mark in every action, even the simplest.
Then he composes two messages, which he will seal and give to pages to deliver.
Martin...
A reminder to you that I'm off dealing with grandmother for your dad about the wedding and such. I'm sure you know this already but on the infinitesmal chance his majesty decided not to tell you, now you're notified.
Take care of yourself and Folly. I'll be back soon.
Also, next time I visit, you tell me about Khela, old issues notwithstanding. This is important.
Jerod.
*** Paige...
His exulted highness has me off dealing with the Queen of Rebma. Ask Folly or Martin about it.
Regrettably this means I will be unavailable for sketches or training with your children. I will assume you to remain in the kingdom for the foreseeable short-term. We will make arrangements when I return next, assuming opportunities permit.
Jerod.
Then he's off to get a horse and head out.
[Jerod can head out in any direction he pleases. Down the cliffside to the town and then up or down the beach, up the less-traveled trail to the clifftop and then upriver or into the forest, onto a boat. Whatever direction he chooses, he cannot start shifting until he reaches a distance from Xanadu. How hard is he going to be shifting?]
Down through town and then down the beach. Jerod needs to get comfortable with the feeling that's here. It was different with Amber...it was the only point of reality around so one could always get lazy and just ride for what was true. Dad, however, didn't like that and hammered the need to get the feeling of a place. The same is true here, especially now that there are multiple reality points out there.
While making his trek through reality central, which no doubt will take a bit of time before he reaches a point where shadow is easy to adjust, Jerod takes the opportunity to summon the Pattern (not while he's in the town or likely to get run over by something), to get a feel for possible variations between his own imprint and the reality that surrounds him now. Another clue to the feel for the place.
It's not easy. Every time he thinks he notices a difference, he decides discovers it's really a match for a different part of the thing. It is what it is, and it's the pattern.
Ah, but that in and of itself, is also a pattern (no pun intended). Another piece of information to file and store for future reference.
Once that is done, then he begins to shift. A full hellride would be waste because he would lose the feel for the variations in close shadows as he departed. His shifting will be at a moderate rate, enough to make progress but he's not going to take a month to travel either. If he can pull off a trip in a couple days, he'll do that. His outside personal limit is no more than five days.
The path seems easier than he expected. Much easier. It's as if there is a natural shadowpath running in the direction he wants to go. By the end of a second day Jerod is on the outskirts of Paris, just close enough that he feels the increasing difficulty in shifting. He can push on to the city, stop and camp, or (assuming that the river ahead is Le Seine), perhaps find a barge to ride into the city.
Given his proximity, he will push on. He can handle being outdoors but Jerod has little desire to remain there when warm food, good drinks and comfortable sheets are within riding distance.
Jerod pushes on and arrives at the palace before nightfall, which comes late these days. Alice Roth greets him and arranges for his room; if he wishes he can see Corwin now or in the morning.
He'll thank Alice making the arrangement and inquire after his uncle. He intends to depart early in the morning and wants to catch up before he heads below the waves.
The King sees him immediately. He's in his study, working. Eric would have been shocked, and probably approved. And probably been in shock about that.
Given that Corwin has the now unenviable task of being "in charge", mostly because he's "it" with regards to society, Jerod is somewhat less shocked than his father would have been, though the thought does give him a moment's private amusement.
Corwin rises to greet him when he enters, offering a friendly clasp. "Jerod. How did it go with Random?"
Jerod returns the clasp. "About as anticipated. I wondered if my penchant for undertaking activities without asking might make him question my motivations, but it only came up indirectly when I put my proposal to him. I got a definite non-committal out of him, which is better than a reject so I'll take it. Whether he chooses to take me up on it, that's up to him and that's fine. He's aware of my intentions at least so any further...aggressive pursuits of opportunity should not come as much more of a surprise to him...assuming they ever did."
"It's not the first time my little brother has played his cards close to his vest, and it won't be the last." Corwin moves to the sideboard to pour drinks for Jerod and himself. "And now you're headed back to Rebma?"
"Yes." Jerod says, accepting the drink. "He wants a message delivered to Moire that is certain to have...implications. I would recommend you give him a trump call. My liberties in divulging the message contents are limited given it's nature, meaning she gets it first. It's not serious like he wants to start a war, but it's going to make life interesting."
Corwin nods. "I'm already aware of developments in that quarter. Martin trumped me yesterday with family news and a letter for you."
"Really?" Jerod says. "I wonder what he has to say. Perhaps more details on what not to tell Grandmother." His tone suggests that is not what he believes it to be.
"Might I inquire as to just exactly what Martin offered in regards to family news?"
"His impending wedding and Folly's pregnancy, and worry about my children," Corwin replies, but doesn't seem inclined to share further. He moves back to the secretary where he was working and shuffles through some papers. "He's very concerned about events in Rebma."
"He's not the only one." Jerod says, accepting the profferred letter and opening it up.
Is there a fireplace?
[Yes.]
The note is as follows:
Coz-
Be careful with our cousin. She's older than either of us, a sorceress, and commands Tritons by right of blood. She has as many reasons to hate Grandmother as I do and then some. For a long time, I thought Montage had killed her when Grandmother suppressed the Libertists, but she survived and has wormed her way back into power and influence in the Shell of Khrop.
I don't know why she's moving now.
She taught Celina the TaKhi. Celina has taken her under her protection. Merlin is with Celina but he won't take my trump right now. If you can contact them, do it, before Rebma falls into civil war.
~M
Jerod reads the letter once, then twice, committing it to memory as his early lessons taught him.
Then he hands the letter to Corwin. "Burn it when you're done." he says, taking a sip of his drink as he paces a moment while Corwin reads.
"Celina is in the middle and that's not good. If Merlin is with her, that's also not good." Jerod says, looking at Corwin. "Grandmother put her on the Pattern with no warning. Either she was calculating something, or she was desperate. I'm gambling on the latter. What would make her desperate? Is it Khela's proximity to Celina, or maybe Llewella?"
Corwin frowns as he finishes the letter. "This may be what Moire couldn't protect her from." He crumples the letter in one hand, says a Word, and it vanishes in a ball of swift, sudden flame. No ashes remain to fall to the floor.
Jerod approves.
[Corwin] pulls his Trump Deck from his secretary and shuffles out Merlin's card. "The last time I spoke to Merlin, I made a hash of it. Maybe you'll do better getting through to them than I've done." He hands the card to Jerod.
He takes the card, studying it for a moment. "Is it important to know what the topic of your last conversation was concerning?" Jerod asks. "And do we need them to return here, or just not continue on a course that might get them dinged in Rebma? If they are truly intent upon that destination, there is nothing wrong with having another accompany them...safety in numbers and all that."
"The last time I spoke to them concerned a question Merlin needed an answer to. He didn't like the one he got." Corwin doesn't elaborate. "Going with them--that'd put a crimp in your other plans, wouldn't it?"
"That would depend on if they are intent on going to Rebma generally, or trying to sneak in some other place." Jerod says. "If they are intent upon Rebma, then there are many ways to enter, and some of the best are through the front door. You just have to know how to accoutre yourself before you knock. If that is not their destination, then I would continue on my own way. At the very least however, the opportunity to pass along information exists."
Corwin nods, but doesn't speak.
Jerod sits down as he speaks, giving Corwin a chance to reply before he returns to his focus of the card, studying the image carefully. Merlin did not like the answer he received from his father, a figure he has only recently gotten to know. And he had declined contact from Martin who was a good friend, certainly one of his best. This did not bode well for future contacts.
Thus, Jerod begins slowly, building the image in his mind, focussing carefully on the single essence that was before him, like a meditative exercise, screening out anything that might be a distraction. He builds as clear an impression as possible, layer by layer, until there is nothing left to take away from possible flawed impressions that might hinder contact. He knows that Merlin can always refuse, can block, can hide, but that is his conscious choice. Jerod's choice is to present as clear as possible an idea of who is sending, and that's what he does.
Merlin accepts the contact.
"Hello Merlin." Jerod says. "One hopes that you are well this day. I have some concern about a course of action you may be undertaking and would speak with you. Is my aunt, your sister, with you, and are you intending to approach Rebma?"
The view is tightly constrained to Merlin's face. "Hello, Jerod. Yes, my sister is with me. Our course is not firmly set yet. Why do you ask?"
"Rebma is not a safe place to go at the present time, not without additional information." Jerod says. "I know of Celina's offer of protection to Khela, but I am unsure if you are aware of how deep the antagonism between Khela and Moire goes. Should Celina decide to honour her committment of protection, that might place you in a grevious position in any conflict where Khela is found acting against the monarch of a sovereign kingdom. That would also place your father in a very difficult position."
"Thank you for your concern about our relations with our father. We are aware that we may be placed in a difficult position with respect to Khela and Moire, and that Rebma is unsafe for us. Is there other information that you have that might make our journey safer, cousin?"
He's got other people with him, Jerod thinks, and is repeating the salient points for them.
"Call Martin." Jerod says.
"Is Martin with you?" Merlin asks.
"No. He's been attempting to contact you." Jerod says. "Give him a call at your earliest convenience. As hints goes, that would mean before you get into Rebma."
"I have been travelling and it has been difficult to accept calls. I will consider contacting him. Is there anything else that Celina and I should know?" Merlin asks.
Corwin is listening, but does not interfere.
"Only that questions and answers go both ways." Jerod says with a smile. "Based on your current companions I suspect I have nothing else that would be of any value."
In this case, Jerod has deliberately used a plural form even though he has no firm evidence as to who is with Merlin, mostly in order to test a theory and see what reaction comes back. Regardless of the outcome, Jerod has little else that would be of value. Martin can provide greater levels of detail he suspects, depending on the questions that Merlin might ask.
Corwin, sitting nearby, raises his eyebrows at that.
Merlin's face is schooled to stillness, but he's always been hard for Jerod to read. After a moment, he replies, "I thank you for your news, cousin. If you would accept advice from me, stay away from your homeland."
"Staying away from home is regrettably not an option." Jerod says. "Why do you believe it to be a risk?"
"There are many secrets in Rebma, cousin. Revealing them may have terrible consequences," Merlin says. "And some of them stand to be revealed. I must go now. Good luck, Jerod."
Corwin can't possibly have heard Merlin's comments, but he looks alarmed.
Which only proves to Jerod that trumps can be monitored by those who are significantly Pattern enhanced, or who "are" Patterns.
And people wonder why he doesn't like the damn little pasteboard cut- outs?...:)
"As must I." Jerod says. "With luck, should something get revealed neither of us will be in the blast radius. I will see you later." There is nothing in his voice to suggest that he would not utterly believe his last comment.
Jerod then closes the trump call and hands the card back to Corwin. "How were you able to monitor that?" he asks, not bothering to mention that conversations are assumed to be reasonably private at the least and getting caught eavesdropping is so....gauche (ie: not tactful).
"I didn't. Your end was enough," Corwin replies. "Something he said made you think going back to Rebma is a risk." He pauses for a moment, as if deciding what to say before continuing.
"Jerod, there are old troubles stirring in Rebma. Very dangerous things. Moire could lose her throne. I don't want you in the middle of them and I don't want my children in the middle of them either, any more than they already are."
"Going back home is a risk under the best of conditions, let alone now." Jerod says. "I'd rather not walk into a civil war, but my choices are limited. Go and see if something can be done to keep things from going to hell, or sit and wait on the sidelines. The danger of action tends to be up close and personal. Inaction's danger is if a less than generous enemy emerges victorious and decides to clean house. I've already buried one parent, I have no desire to bury another, or my siblings." There is a flatness in his voice as he speaks, the way a person would make note of some fact or self evident truth. But behind it is the hint of what lies buried within, the rage of a Prince, dormant like the seeds long buried in the desert awaiting the deluge of spring, rage that offers only death to those it is focussed upon, rage that is patient even to a millenia, if vengeance requires it.
He is his father's son. And his mother's.
He gets up from his chair to head over to the bar where the bottle awaits another pouring. "Besides, I gave my word I'd deliver a message and it's bad form to break your word."
"Then watch your back," Corwin says. "And trump me if you need a quick way out."
"Count on it." Jerod says, offering the bottle after he fills his glass.
Conner carefully places the trump sketch back in its place and turns about to see if Celina and Merlin are done. Seeing no card or concentration, Conner walks over to them and his footfalls seem conspiculously loud. "Well I hope your conversation was less disturbing than mine." He greets them with only a shade of his usual smile.
"I think it must have been," Celina replies. "What has happened that dampens your mood?"
"Well I did not really get to talk to my sister." Conner begins. "She merely let me listen in on her conversation with one of the Masters of Abford. Apparently, Huon has them making rifles." Conner stops there to gauge their reactions.
"Rifles?" Celina is thrown by the term for a second. Her face clears. "Oh, the artillery." She makes a face of displeasure. "Including man-toted versions. They were practicing with them and even I could tell they were not very good."
"Rifles that will work in Amber?" Merlin asks.
"They were being built for the purpose of attacking Amber." Conner replies with shrug. "Presumably this means Huon knows something that we don't. Or rather something that I don't. I don't suppose you know how your father managed the trick of making guns work in Amber?" Conner inquires.
Celina registers she has learned another secret of the Amber family. She frowns thinking about Huon and his army but looks to Merlin.
"Yes," Merlin says, but does not elaborate.
As a diplomat Conner is unused to such bluntness and it does throw him off blance for a moment. "One question then." Conner presses. "How likely is it that Huon's guns work by the same method?"
"It is not impossible, but without seeing the guns and ammunition, I cannot know," Merlin replies.
"Will this 'rifle business' take you to another course, Conner? Does your sister need help?" Celina looks as if she had something else on the tip of her tongue, but she waits Conner's response.
"No, I am still with you." Conner replies. "I am merely disturbed by this realization. Guns that work in Amber could concievably be guns that work in the vicinity of other Patterns. Still, I trust Brita and the others with her to get the information to those that need it."
Celina looks relieved. "Well, I dare think that we will hear about it when we return. In the meantime, we must prepare for the next surprise of our journey." She looks at both men. "Having broken fast, are we ready to brave the day?"
Merlin nods.
"Actually, I have one more matter to discuss with you both before we continue." Conner takes a deep breath. "You have trusted me with some of your secrets and now I have decided to share one of mine. Party because it may impact on our mission in Rebman waters and partly because I think you both are uniquely suited to help me investigate it." Conner stands up. "Kindly wait here a moment. There is something I wish to show you."
Conner leaves the room...
Celina turns to Merlin in good humor. "Well, this seems delightfully mysterious."
"He is a redhead," Merlin replies, as if this is a proper reply to her comment.
...and returns a few moments later holding something long and flat wrapped in a green cloth. Conner unwraps it to reveal a large gilt edged hand mirror which he prudently places face down on the table. "I was given this many years ago by Llewella for services rendered. With concentration I can see from afar anyone that I know reasonably well. It appears to work by sorcerous means as I have seen a trail of energies drifiting off into shadow when it is in operation." Conner looks to Celina. "It is called the Eye of Rebma." He waits to see if that name triggers any reaction.
"Services rendered?" Celina appears awestruck. She stares at the face-down item.
Conner simply nods. "In hindsight though, I think she wanted it in my hands or out of Rebman hands for whatever reason." Conner comments. "From your reaction, I take it you know the name. I was given it in ignorance. What do you know of the Eye of Rebma?"
"In ignorance? Well, include me in that as well," Celina almost sighs. "I have not heard of it in the Seaward and I tried to keep my ears clean while at Rebman court. The teachings I had from the archivist regards the history of magic in Rebma did not touch upon its legend. That suggests to me that you really have a find."
She looks at Conner. "And what you have told me throws light on the relationships of the Rebman Court. Apparently there is ongoing competition for historic artifacts. Is it possible that you are being attacked so that someone may get their hands on this bit of legend rather than for what you do not know?"
"I don't know." Conner replies. "It depends on how easily someone could track this bit of glass down. However, if you'll recall, when Llewella's townhouse was broken into every mirror and piece of glass was destroyed. I think this is what they were looking for. Or seeking to destroy. I also find myself curious what someone trained in mirrors could do with this. Dare we attempt to find out?"
"Thank you for the invitation," Celina's smile energizes her from chin to toes and she puts a soft hand on Conner's shoulder. "I dare." She looks at the wrapped mirror.
"But not now and not in Gateway. We need to move along. There are too many people that know we are here." She looks to her two men to see if they agree.
"Very well then." Conner nods reclaiming the mirror from the table. "I shall follow your lead in this. For the nonce." Conner smiles. "We can speak of mirrors and sorcery on the roads and currents."
With a nod then, Celina shifts to pleasant conversation covering a bit of the sights that she and Merlin saw on the way to Gateway. The party will quit the embassy when sated and move to pass through the harbor gateway---underwater and out of sight.
[GM: With or without horses?]
[Arref/ooc: Celina hasn't gotten comfy enough with horses to offer an opinion. Merlin seemed to think it was no problem to bring them. So if Conner agrees, I suggest they come along.]
[Conner: As Conner recalls, horses in the underwater realms are rare enough to truly be noteworthy when they appear. If Celina wants to keep a low profile, he would suggest not bringing horses.]
[Celina: this is plenty smart and Celina will quickly agree.]
The gate, like the cairn, is a marker, but this marker is a hive of activity. Goods pass below here, and are brought up as well. The Master of the Gate reports that Ambassador Jewel has arranged for passage without any fees.
The water rises quickly and evenly along the path through the gate, and breathable water is quickly available. The immediate surroundings of the gate are warehouses belonging to the various shells that do business in this direction, and their cargo ships are here as well. Narvhal doesn't have business here, although their ships dock frequently enough and the shell has friends here. Friends like Khrop.
People take an interest in the three of you. Most likely it's an "is this stranger a person from whom I can profit?" interest.
Celina expressing an interest in everything here. She takes in the sensory range. It will be important if she needs to find her way alone later.
Conner also expresses mild interest in any of the goods and services being offered. The impression he wishes to give is somewhere between uninterested and unimpressed. His eyes are alert for that take an unusual interest in them though. They were now entering realms where they might be recognized and very few down here would wish them well.
But this is not a place to linger. She will seek her path again, making concession to practical travel needs (with regards to horses, food, and not leaving a wake.) Celina works her Pattern focus. Ahead there waits a blade and an army.
"How acquainted are you with the various trading shells?" Conner inquires of Celina. "More to point, how many of them would be acquaianted enough with you for recongnition?"
Conner lets Celina lead them onward as only she has a notion of their destination. Should she ask for any help or advice he will offer it.
Celina considers his question for a while, eyeing the emblems of tradestalls as they pass. "I know the trade emblems of the nine ranking shells of the Seaward. I might recognize a few faces, but I've been away at school through my growing years." She looks at Conner. "Though there was a portrait done of me during the war years when I was home from school and thirteen." Celina smiles. "You could say I've filled out a lot since then. I'd be more worried about Rebman agents with recent limns of me in hand than trade factors with old knowledge."
There are shells that are outward facing, dealing frequently with the surface-dwellers and the extremes of the seaward, and others that dive from the center to the depths. It is the outward shells that are here. Exclusively. Celina and Conner don't see any of the shells which haul goods to Rebma in port. Nor is there evidence of Rebman agents. Not obvious agents, in any case.
She has a promise to Conner though. When they find a rest that eve, she will offer to examine his Rebman surprise after dinner.
Not that far off the docks there is a small inn, it seems to cater to travellers from the surface. There are people in the common room drinking and eating.
Celina notes the inn to Conner but adds, "I'd like to be away from here before we address heirlooms. If someone behind us is scrambling to get a follower in place, I would wish for shadows of us to stop while we go on ahead. What say you, gentlemen?"
"A quick meal and a slip out of the side door seems in order." Conner agrees. "It might not be bad to hear about the travel conditions on the paths ahead as well."
"I agree," Merlin says. "There have been some attempts to contact me by trump while we traveled, but I have blocked them. Should I continue to do so?"
Celina glances at Conner, then back to Merlin. "After we quit these precincts and have some privacy, I suppose it would be all right with me. Tell me, can folks take you away or push themselves here by force through the cards?"
Conner waits for the answer to Celina's question and then adds one of his own. "Are there any of hostile intent that bear a Trump of you and how likely would it be for them to be on this side of Ygg?"
Merlin frowns thoughtfully. "It is possible that someone of very strong will could drag me away, but I do not reckon it likely that Dworkin or Brand is contacting me. And for those who are hostile, I count my mother so, but I do not know whether she abides in Borel or has returned to this side of Ygg."
Celina frowns slightly. "This side of Ygg?" She whispers to herself.
"I would say it is worth the risk to accept the calls, then." Conner advises. "The odds are greatly in favor of it being an ally versus an enemy and our wills and powers combined should prove enough to protect you should the odds not be in your favor."
Conner has a reputation for having very sharp ears when it comes to whispered words. Part of the reputation is truth of course. Diplomats need to excel at hearing and listening on many levels after all. However, in this case Conner could read the question on Celina's lips.
"Are you familiar with Ygg, Celina?" Conner asks.
"No," she sighs. "You all must be tired of me being so ill-informed. Is Ygg a Chaosi or a place?"
"A place." Conner replies. "Specificly, a tree that spans the border between spaces where Pattern predominates and where Chaos does. Generally speaking, a person on one side of Ygg cannot Trump another on the opposite side. That is why when the armies had to return from the Abyss to Amber a Trump chain was formed. Those in Chaos trumped soldiers to those at Ygg who then passed them on to others in trump contact with family in Heather Vale." Conner explains.
Merlin says, "I am receiving a trump call now. I believe it may be Jerod. Should I take it?"
Conner nods an affirmative.
A clash of emotions cross Celina's eyes. It seems that affection for Jerod wins out. She nods once 'yes'.
Merlin nods and accepts the contact.
After a moment, he says, "Hello, Jerod. Yes, my sister is with me. Our course is not firmly set yet. Why do you ask?"
Celina looks briefly at Conner to see how he waits out the call.
Merlin has not moved away for privacy so Conner remains where he is. He waits patiently and looks for any verbal or physical cues from Merlin that his opinion might be sought.
Merlin is very intent on the conversation right now.
"Thank you for your concern about our relations with our father. We are aware that we may be placed in a difficult position with respect to Khela and Moire, and that Rebma is unsafe for us. Is there other information that you have that might make our journey safer, cousin?"
Clearly Merlin intends for them to hear this, and perhaps to offer opinions.
"It seems everything we do is transparent," Celina wonders at the information routes that are not mirrors. She looks at Conner. "Perhaps your name won't be mentioned yet."
"At a guess, this warning comes routed through Corwin or Martin." Conner replies. "They are the most likely to lie at the intersection of Merlin's Trump and Rebman information." Conner opines. "Who is this Khela he mentions?" Conner inquires.
"Is Martin with you?" Merlin asks.
Celina stares at Conner for a moment even as Merlin pursues his Trump call. She huffs a breath of ire and spills words in a rush:
"Khela, daughter to my Aunt Llewella, now exiled from fair Rebma. Corwin would not know of it. Martin has warned me well afore now. Dear Jerod is too young to know of these old events, but perhaps has trenched up sea mud. I'm liking this less and less. Be ready."
Conner files away yet another new family name and notes that Celina has great emotional attchement to this woman. Conner resolves to learn more but not when Celina prickles like a sea urchin. For now, Conner moves back to the discussion at hand. "Moire would know of it." Conner reminds her. "And Corwin and she have common cause in you. If Martin has warned you already of this Khela, then something new must have come to light." Conner concludes. "And it would seem neither Corwin nor Jerod wants to be the one to tell Merlin. Curious, is it not?" Conner reaches into his pocket and takes out his extendable stylus. Idly he fiddles with it as he waits.
"I have been travelling and it has been difficult to accept calls. I will consider contacting him. Is there anything else that Celina and I should know?" Merlin asks.
Celina breathes a bit easier. It sounds as if Jerod is fishing more than hunting. "Curious, yes, it is." A flutter of regret pulls at the corner of her wide mouth. She buries it. "I wonder if Corwin put him up to it?"
"Jerod is very rarely put up to anything he wasn't planning on doing anyway." Conner comments. "Still, your supposition fits the data."
Celina eyes Conner's bright stylus. "Do you ever have bad dreams, Conner? Are you hunted in your sleep?"
"Hunted?" Conner mused. "Well the occasional Triton swims through my dreams but nothing regular enough to worry myself. Are you so troubled?"
Merlin's face is schooled to stillness. After a moment, he replies, "I thank you for your news, cousin. If you would accept advice from me, stay away from your homeland."
Celina's looks at Conner. "Yes. Nightly." She turns and watches Merlin's face. "Well, that spices the clam nicely."
"I don't think I've come across that phrase before." Conner admits. "Yet it sounds quite fitting regardless." Conner decides. "Vialle has also been complaining of disturbing dreams. My mother worked out a way to shield her from them for a time."
Celina hooks a surprised eyebrow at Conner. She pauses though, waiting for Merlin to sign off with Jerod.
"There are many secrets in Rebma, cousin. Revealing them may have terrible consequences," Merlin says. "And some of them stand to be revealed. I must go now. Good luck, Jerod."
Conner sees Celina lift onto the balls of her feet and that's the only warning.
The trump is closed. Celina leaps and wraps her arms about Merlin. "May I say that was spectacular?! I will. I did!" She kisses him on the cheek and squeezes harder. She laughs and her face brightens even more. "...'stay away from your homeland'. I'd love to be a pilot fish watching Jerod and Corwin now."
Merlin smiles, obviously pleased at her praise--enough so that he forgets to be awkward about the hug and kiss.
She disengages Merlin, only to step across and give Conner a chaste kiss on the cheek as well. "For luck," she grins a bit abashed.
Conner grins and accepts it in the spirit is was offered. "I never turn down luck."
"That quick meal and news of the path ahead?" Celina eyes both men. "Let's make it very quick. Conner, I dare say you will get the most information in the smoothest fashion. Merlin, please ponder how probable it is that anyone following us will get bad directions. I'll get the food."
"Very well. Though I hope Merlin will take the time to contact Martin. Forewarned is forearmed and all that." Conner then slides off to the bar to engage some merchant types in conversation about travel conditions and rumors in the limited time Celina has given him.
Merlin is still smiling as Conner leaves them. "Do you want me to contact Martin?" he asks Celina. "I am not sure what we need to know that we do not already, but Jerod seems convinced we are stepping into unknown dangers instead of just the known ones."
"I think Martin could be far too persuasive and he does sometimes speak for King Random," Celina says. "So 'no', I don't think we should contact Martin." She winces. "But he is our friend, so I leave it to your judgment."
Merlin gets a very stubborn set to his jaw. "Martin would not mislead me even if his father asked him to."
Celina nods slowly. "Then since Martin warned me before we left and now reminded us through Jerod, I see no reason to ask him about it again. If Martin had dangers to add to our list, he would have trusted Jerod to tell us. Even father trusts Jerod."
This logic makes more of a dent in Merlin's determination than the previous one. But he is still troubled. "Why, then, do you think Jerod asked me to contact him?"
Celina turns and stares off at a wall between her and Paris. "I'd say because Jerod doesn't want us to go near Rebma. He's adding that bias to the message." Her eyes spark. "No. He's in Paris going to Rebma himself and he wants to slow us down with talking to Martin and such. And if he and Martin are exchanging notes, perhaps he hopes Martin can get more from us than Jerod did." She chews her lower lip. "Nothing for it. He'll be there long before us. I hope he's moved on by the time we return."
She looks back to her brother. "Short answer. I don't know, Merlin."
"Martin cannot be exchanging notes with him, save through our father, which," and Merlin looks troubled at this, "I doubt. I do not believe Jerod has a trump of Martin and I do not believe Martin can have a trump of him."
Celina nods as if she has heard of the rareness of such talents even in Amber. "Well, even so. Someone is keeping Jerod and Martin in touch. I agree it probably isn't Corwin." She looks less pleased than a few moments before. "I'm obviously too new at this. I don't know whether I'm telling the right people or the wrong people. Suffice that Jerod and Martin both think I should stay clear of Rebma, even though Martin also advised me I cannot walk away from my troubled past."
She steps closer to Merlin. "Parental relationships seem to be the most difficult to understand in this blood. I'm going to keep asking questions even as the answers I get both gnaw and appall me. But first, I need some strength of arms at my back. So into shadow we go.
"You may be sure," Celina whispers to her brother, "that I have some idea this will not turn out well." She seems calm now.
"I do not wish this to turn out badly." Merlin's jaw sets again. "If the conditions of reality are such that it must, let us remake those conditions."
"But Merlin," Celina whispers, "if not for the bad things done to me, I would not have met you and had your friendship. We would not know we were sibs. We will pass through the bad and find something good."
"I count that turning out well," Merlin says. "Let us go into shadow and get your force of arms, but do not count on things turning out badly. We are immortal. Negatives are generally in the short term for us."
"How basic," Celina nods with understanding now. "Short term. Of course." Once Merlin shifts his attention, she tests the word silently again in her mouth, 'immortal'. The sharp bright edges of it threaten to bleed her mouth.
Celina reaches out to rest a hand on Merlin's shoulder and steadies herself. "I'll get the food."
The Seaward cousin moves towards the kitchen. The room has taken on a pale drama, all of it shadows and light but none of it meaning much. Her hand goes to jacket and fingers play with hidden coins. She nearly collides with a girl taking a tray back to the kitchen, but pulls up short and stares at the sudden interruption.
Celina focuses on the girl's face. Young and soft. Lines at the eye corners that might be kitchen heat or fatigue. The colors there are too soft and not quite real. Ten years will change the face greatly. Celina pushes a few coins into the young woman's hand. "Food, please, wrapped for travel."
Most of her thoughts too far in the future, Celina follows on the heels of the woman simply because she has a wake, ending up in the kitchen. She steps to a corner, instinctively protecting her back and puts palms to eyes. She wills a hold on the outburst of weeping threatening. Once again it is anger that boils away the tears before they can emerge. When she drops her hands, her face is so still and blank she looks older by a double handful of years. "This will not turn out badly."
There is no one to listen.
Celina is wholly present again when the food arrives. "Thank you, sweet lady." She startles all present by kissing the young woman on the cheek. "Be well."
Blessing given, Celina exits to the common room and gathers her men.
There are some [merchant types] at the bar, friendly and open. They want to know what [Conner is] buying or selling, and they say they can help [him] run the blockade.
"We're on a scavenger hunt for some of the mage at the Collegia Arcanum." Conner tells them easily. "They're doing research on various undersea creatures and we are to collect scholarly treatises, legends, specimens that sort of thing. They didn't mention a blockade though. My price just went up." Conner smirks. "So who is doing the blockading and for what reason?"
"They're making a show about whose in charge here and who ain't," says the older man, his beard floating in the tavern's airy water with an almost unfelt tidal regularity. "It's no place for scholars, now.
"It don't matter much, anyway. We wasn't trading back to Rebma since the trade routes got disrupted, but if we did, we'd end up stopped... Iffen we took the main routes." He glances over to his companions, who all nod.
"I heard Hasdrubal say that they must've opened it up agin, and that's why they're enforcing it all of a sudden."
"Shuddup Hamalcar, you don't know nothing. If they could move they would."
"Another Beverage Mister?" asks the bartender.
"Not for me, but please another round for my friends." Conner smiles dropping a generous amount of coins onto the bar. "So am I hearing you correctly that the Rebmans are enforcing this blockade? More to point though, where are these routes off the main path that goes around them?"
"Naw, it's local militias. Pretty well armed, really. Hard to blame 'em, some of the things that came from shoreward in the wars."
Hamalcar nods. "Yeah, and once they're set up, they don't shut 'em down. But they're not..."
The older man interrupts. "They're not letting anyone by. Not by them. Now those as may know a way past, they might stand to make a pretty penny from the knowledge. Ah, and thanks for the drinks, Mister...?"
"Rooker." Conner supplies easily. "Conrad Rooker, purveyor of pretty pennies to those that can get me by the blockade. Now do you wish to continue to speak in generalities or do you wish to show me your wares and name a price?" Ordinarily, Conner loves to draw out a negotiation but Celina appears to be in quite a hurry.
The older man nods. "Well, Master Rooker, let us get down to the matter, and stop kicking off the reef. If you're looking to catch a current across the militia's lines to poke around, you can buy my expertise. I don't particularly want trouble with 'em, but if what I hear is right, pretty soon someone will be the lucky trader who gets through first. For the right price, and it may be in the area of a hundred pounds of water-tempered steel, I may be able to use the tricks I intended to use to win that race and instead get you and your friends through. For what it's worth, I know what's beyond the militia's line, which not everyone knows."
The other men are quietly sipping their drinks, but the banter from earlier seems to have stopped.
"I'd politely enquire about your scavenger hunt, but I don't think either of us want to talk about that."
"You are wise." Master Rooker agrees with a smile. "I think I can find myself in the area of your price." Conner nods slowly. "But first I should like some evidence that you are the real goods. Is there something you can show me on good faith that does not devalue your position?"
He sips his beverage. "Like if I told you that the militia that's forming the lines we're behind seems to be facing another militia who are preventing people who come through these lines from going on? True and useful, but still doesn't let you get through. That takes what I know."
"More like if can tell me what colors the militias wear, and what weapons they wield." Conner replies. Conner is fairly adept at noticing if a person is making up a story on the spot or genuinely searching their memories. The more detailed the question, the more likely Conner would be able to catch him in a lie. That is the theory at least.
"Oh, I think I've proven that I've been past the first set of lines. What if that's all you want? If I give it to you, you leave and I don't have my steel."
Conner thinks the man is basically greedy, but not lying. He thinks he has the upper hand in selling his services to Conner.
"Allow me to confer with my associates then." Master Rooker nods and rises from the table. "There are other offers on the table after all. They may not be as inclined as I to go with the high risk, high return option. Good day to you."
Conner rises and moves to join his companions.
Last modified: 10 November 2006