The enemy is willing to wait, and the storm rolls over everyone. A very powerful streak of lightning does hit the Lightning Rod, melting parts of it and cracking the rock.
Brennan gets the feeling they may have expected something else.
The cornered enemy troops raise a white flag.
Brennan doesn't miss a beat-- he canters over to the spear, still sparking with electricity and sizzling from the rain hitting it, and sets up a new one just like it a few feet away. Then, carefully protecting himself with another working of Entropy, takes the old one and rides down to the scene of the surrender.
By the time he gets there, he's used main strength (or a brief working of Phases of Matter to make the metal more manipulable) to straighten it out, and has it resting over his shoulder as he arrives... still steaming and sizzling just enough that the surrendered enemies can't possibly miss it. Brennan, of course, affects not to notice this at all. Just another day ending in Y.
Brennan sizes up the lot as a group and as individuals, then asks, "Who is in charge?"
A man in slightly better chain armor at the front steps forward, "I am the Sire of Foix, Sir Severity. The battle is yours. What are your terms, Commander?"
Behind him the remaining three dozen men wait, calmly, mostly tending to their horses. They look ready to take up the fight again, but. not eager to do so.
Also, how is the fire at the mill doing? Brennan's going to want to do something about that as soon as possible, and if the danger of battle is past, he'll let the villagers start helping to extinguish it under a Knight's supervision.
The rain is keeping it from being a problem, but it's probably the end of the mill until it's rebuilt.
Brennan sends Dame Patience and Tenacity to supervise the firefighting efforts, with a secondary task given them quietly: Find the rest of the Horse People, or at least some of them, and get their story. The rest of the Knights are kept close to watch over the captives.
They head down the road, planning to return when the plot demands they do so.
"I am called Danger-Walker," he says to Severity.
"We can speak of terms in a moment. Who is in charge in the castle?" he asks. "By which I mean also, who tried to command the skies and lightning?"
"The Duke of The City of Flowers rules these lands under our gracious King. The castle is held by Baronesse Topaz. She commands many arts hidden and martial."
Brennan, being a naturally suspicious sort, generally thinks that the thrower of lightning, the shifter of grackleflints, the true power of the keep, the unKing, and the thing Brennan scried when he tried to understand that grackleflint are all one in the same. While he's speaking to Severity, he's giving all the captives a careful Astral look. It's not that he expects the unKing to be here-- he expects he's still in the keep-- but if Brennan had the ability to shapeshift others, the temptation to slip a ringer into the ranks would be very very high.
Brennan doesn't see any ringers, but he does notice that there is someone who has some sort of magic connection back to the castle. Whatever he says may be heard there before a message can be delivered, if he's right about what the connection is.
Brennan chooses two of the men seemingly at random but including the one with the connection to the keep, "Go to the Keep with this message to your Baronesse: She should approach with a small escort under a flag of parley." It is clear that Brennan expects them to go physically and immediately.
Sir Severity asks for a word in private.
After they depart, Brennan sends a runner to find a representative of the two-legged inhabitants of the valley, and to gently encourage Patience and Tenacity of their new schedule.
Dignity acts as runner, and will return later with (probably boring) news...
The fire is nearly out, and the storm seems to have given the two-legged people enough of an edge that there is mostly mopping up work to do.
Then he turn to Lorides, brings him aside (out of hearing range of the captives, at least-- Brennan does not prevent Firumbras or Moonriders from being part of this) and asks for details about this Baronesse, Duke, and King in that order. Two of which Lorides had not mentioned before.
Lorides doesn't know much, just that there's this castle and somebody in charge of it, and they have other castles and people who sometimes ride in on dumb horses. This is on the extremities of horse-people land, and they've been shocked at how many varieties of two-legs there are, including you.
What Brennan is looking for from the two-legged people is whether they feel like they're part of this empire willingly (which sinks down as low as, "They're neutral to not thrilled, but it keeps the bandits away,") or if they feel as oppressed as the Horse People do.
There's a variety of opinion, and specific complaints about local issues, taxation, conscription, and the uneven quality of leaders from the capital, but it's not worse than Reme. At this point if they got tax relief or help rebuilding their windmill, they'd be settled. Most of 'em.
Brennan grants Severity a word in private.
"Sir Danger-Walker, Having fought against your troops, I can see you are an honorable warrior," he says, perhaps too optimistically. "I would advise you to be flexible with the Baronesse, who does not have the same experience I have and may not want to come out with a party smaller than the one you captured here in the field. She has no reason to leave her defenses, nor assurance that you will not act part of a bandit." He looks towards the surrendered knights. "Of those you captured, I am the likeliest one to ransom, but it will take some time for my family to raise the funds and transport them to the frontier. What are your intentions towards me and my knights?"
Brennan recognizes that ploy and gives Severity a smirk on the wry end of cynical, but not unfriendly. As to his advice, he's already gotten what he wanted, which was one more rattle of the Baronesse's confidence in her magicks-- it probably (from her perspective) wasn't an accident that the magically connected one got drafted as a messenger, but if she's cautious and wondering then Brennan is content.
As to Brennan's intentions to Severity: "I will know more once I meet the Baronesse to discuss terms, but-- unless I find evidence of severe mistreatment of the people in this valley," Brennan does not feel it necessary to specify that this includes Lorides' people-- "I bear you and your Knights no ill-will. I expect we will come to mutually agreeable terms if your Baronesse permits it."
Assuming Severity is right, and the Baronesse demands to meet either on neutral grounds or in the keep, Brennan will agree. He will insist on at least a small escort: Sir Dignity and Squire Tenacity (if she is back), and since youth seems to be the order of the day, Unsheathed. Lorides should come, to speak for his people. Brennan leaves the choice to Firumbras whether to accompany or stay and help mind the captives.
Firumbras is coming, riding Lorides.
The baronesse in fact, does ride out, not with an escort but alone. Lorides suggests you take her head. She is a short woman in her middle fifties, if Brennan is any guess. She is wearing armor that is well made, but clearly serviceable. It doesn't look as if it has taken many blows, but it doesn't look decorative.
"Greetings to you, Sir Danger-Walker. Why have you waged war upon my steading?"
Lorides probably can't provide a big enough favor to induce Brennan to casual murder. Carrying Firumbras to Ghenesh isn't even close.
"Baronesse," Brennan says. "My first order of business concerns the Horse People, who do not wish to remain in service to you or yours."
She raises her eyebrows. "There are rumors that renegade sorcerers have created talking horse-demons by forbidden magics, but I have not heard anyone refer to them as 'People' before. I can assure you that I have no such demons in my service. The Episcopal Authorities would strip me of my rank and titles and drag me before the Emperor were I to do so."
"Sorcerers and forbidden magic are second on my agenda, actually," Brennan says. "But allow me to introduce my companions: Sir Firumbras, Sir Dignity, Sir Unsheathed, my squire Tenacity, and Lorides who is here to speak for his people."
This, hopefully, is where Lorides speaks.
"We would have our freedom from bondage, Reman," says Lorides. The Baronesse manages not to be surprised, since Brennan told her the horses talked. She does not speak to Lorides, but continues to address Brennan. She makes a light neck-bow that suggests to Brennan that there might be something to the local claims of Reman continuity.
"Is that the cost, then, of your departure from our lands, Sir Danger-Walker? This is a costly request, on top of our dead soldiers. To be fair, it would also be costly to retire from the valley to the Reman heartland and return with a vast army of reconquest, so it's my hope you do not make that option too attractive to me."
Brennan lets the Baronesse's bluff and bluster hang in the air like a pair of.. well, horse-thieves is his usual metaphor. But Brennan knows to a certainty that he can get word to any Episcopal authorities necessary before the Baronesse can raise an army, if he really wants to make an issue out of it. Whoever reconquers the valley, it won't be her.
"I assure you, in addition to speaking fluent Reman, Lorides also understands it," he says, "as well as the value of the forced labor extracted from his folk. I am confident that under my mediation--" as opposed to some other third party, like an Episcopal Court "--you and Lorides can reach a mutually amicable separation, since I believe all his folk wish is to depart.
"But speaking, as we were, of demons and renegade sorcerers, I am also interested in information about these sketches," he says, producing individual sheets with the sketches of the grackleflint and of the mostly man-like thing with the cruel smirk. There is no accidental hand-off of the whole sketchbook, this time. "I would place a high value on good information about them."
This is her opportunity to save face. Brennan is not keen on the idea of paying this woman to release people whose service she had no right to, but good information might be worth a good fraction of the costs of a new mill.
She looks at the sketch. "One of these two recently escaped my dungeons. The other is a Magian Fire Worshipper who once attempted to assassinate the Emperor. He is an outcast even amongst his degenerate rabble." She nods. "I see the outlines of an agreement we can make, Sir Danger-Walker. How many of our horses are really horse-demons?"
"A score, more or less," says Lorides. "On the small outer properties."
"And will you leave and never come back, on pain of captivity, if released?"
Lorides looks as if he's going to spit. "Yes," he finally says.
The Baronesse looks satisfied. "Now, Sir Danger-Walker, shall we discuss how to arrange these ends? Would you join me inside or shall I have a pavillion constructed?"
Brennan flashes one of Bleys' most winning smiles: "I think a pavilion will do nicely," Brennan says.
Brennan has two major interests, here, of which one is mostly secured. First, freedom for Lorides and his people. Brennan is savvy enough to (try to) negotiate some limits to that "on pain of captivity," clause. Mainly, Brennan wants to prevent the neo-Remans from hunting the horses down later and blaming it on the horses.
She's intending that to be instead of "on pain of death". She doesn't want them fomenting rebellion and then just dancing back over the border.
While they are waiting for the pavilion to be built, Brennan will privately offer to move Lorides and his people a bit through Shadow, to ensure some separation.
Lorides is fine with that. It can be along the way to wherever they are going with Sir Firumbras, so as not to lose more time. But it means they absolutely cannot leave anyone behind.
Second is more information on the grackleflint and the Magian (assuming he categorized them correctly.) Why was the grackleflint imprisoned, does the Magian have a name, etc. He'll dribble out some information as necessary to keep her talking, especially that someone or something changed the grackleflint into that shape, but NOT that Lorides played any role in that escape. No need for her to use that against him.
What Brennan is willing to offer are various levels of coin to repair or replace the mill (which he'll spend the time of the negotiations conjuring), various levels of leniency toward Severity and his men, and a reasonable escort of Lorides' people.
Twenty horses, more or less, is a perfectly fine ransom for Severity and his fighters. Coin for the mill will, in all honestly, keep her from taking it from the peasants in taxes.
There is enough mutual distrust, here, that Brennan thinks it is wise to provide a certain amount of separation for the Horse People. Since the Baronesse seems willing to let them depart, and Lorides seems willing to have his people led to a nearby Shadow, that's what will happen. And since coin means basically nothing to Brennan and will probably lighten the burden on the people whose livelihood he just destroyed, he is willing to part with it.
Once that is taken care of, The Baronesse is willing to speak of Bahram the Magian. Beyond this valley the land is wild, and not cultivated. Beyond the hills that raise it, however, is a land in conflict. Reme has not bothered to conquer it, as it offers no wealth and no theats, or it didn't until lately.
The land had been held by a people with a strict and stupid religion, but who were trading with the Remans for exotic spices and goods from the far sides of their lands. They have been taken over by the Magians, who were driven out of their own homelands for worshipping fire demons. Now they threaten Reme's frontiers, and the Emperor will not stand for it.
Bahram is a bandit lord of the Magian cult. And there's no telling what depravity he will be up to. He may even have summoned the demon-horses.
Brennan doesn't entirely like the sound of that, but he's mainly storing the information away for later should it become useful, or perhaps for later investigations.
The Shadow hedge wizard interests Brennan only insofar as he intersects with transformed grackleflints-- if she has anything more to add on that subject, Brennan would like to hear it. If not, then it seems time for a departure. At least as far as back in the valley to collect his various people, the Horse People, and perhaps speak with Severity.
It will take some time but the Remans are both excellent record keepers and unwilling to take no for an answer. By the end of the day, Lorides has all of his people gathered, or close enough. A few died, and he's not thrilled with their treatment, but it's not unreasonable to imagine that it could happen.
Severity is more talkative, and pleased to have been ransomed without having to pay out of pocket. He's very interested in Firumbras, the quest, the conflict between the moonriders and the gemstone-people. He's apparently been talking to Firumbras, the Moonriders, and the squires. Brennan thinks he's trying to make a good impression. Severity might be looking to be recruited.
Brennan takes Severity aside, and walks some distance-- enough to put them out of the range of casual or non-casual listeners. When he speaks, he gets right to the point, as though they'd been talking about this, already:
"It seems you have a decision to make," he says. "Your Baronesse is a self-interested, borderline incompetent. In the course of a long morning, she lost control of the valley and half her troops, to a force at best a quarter of her numbers by failing to commit-- evidently she thinks she can only win by magics." Which, Brennan doesn't say, doesn't speak highly of her thoughts on Severity. "Then she sealed her fate by noting the Episcopal intolerance of the Horse People and those who would employ them, denying she had done so, before Lorides could even open his mouth to talk to her. Effectively she eliminated any possibility of threatening me with imperial reinforcements before the negotiations even began." Brennan barely understands the local politics, and he sees what a debacle this has been for her. He expects Severity to be somewhere closer to horrified.
Severity's jaw tightens.
"I intend to be gone just after dawn at the very latest, so the question to you is this: Are you going to shake the dust of this place from your cloak? Amber and Xanadu have always welcomed newcomers, and being one of my men will assure you a place there, and perhaps even in Avalon. But-- my path leads through considerable danger and hardship before I can turn around and go home. Or are you going to stay and try to fix this place?" Brennan mostly means the valley, but perhaps Severity is more ambitious than that. In any case, Brennan may have fatally wounded the Baronesse entirely by accident. It will be a long time before a better opportunity for a coup comes along.
"She has ambitions elsewhere," he says. "And I have ambitions to see places and peoples I have not seen before. I will take you up, Sir Danger Walker, on your offer and will ride through danger and hardship to see the wonderful places you and your fellows have spoken of." He grins. "And I hope to become proficient enough at fighting that I am not a liability in the company of such talented warriors."
Brennan is faintly disappointed, but doesn't much let it show. He'd been hoping to come back in a generation and find Severity firmly on the baronial throne, doing a damn sight better job than the current occupant, and owing him a favor. Alas.
"Don't say I didn't warn you," Brennan says. He means it both ways-- about the damage the Baronesse is going to do to this place, and the possibility of Severity getting killed. "We'll move out at dawn. Talk to Sir Crescent, that big beefy looking fellow over there. Have him spar with you a time or two-- he's a lot better than he looks."
Sir Severity nods. He assumes that's a dismissal and will wander off to make his goodbyes to the troop and send messages as needed, and then prepares to camp and sleep. He talks to Sir Crescent and Dame Jennet. Sir Crescent seems, from his body language, happy to hear his news. He was always the recruiter in the group.
Comes dawn, Brennan indicates by assumption that Shadowslayer should continue leading the group through Shadow. Presumably he led the group they defeated through Shadow and should be able to manage a group this size, and Brennan is keen to see if it slows him down any, if the technique changes, and in general how this works with a larger group.
The group moves out as planned and if Brennan notices anything, it's that his fellow Moonriders move to flanking positions further out. He doesn't see any magic or connection between them, but it occurs to him that they are well-positioned as sheepdogs to keep the flock from going too far outside of the path.
If anything, having the additional horse for Sir Firumbras makes them go faster. The freed horse people/demons/whatever enjoy being unbound, and probably need a certain amount of shepherding.
Brennan nods to himself at the Moonriders' positioning-- Brennan himself had thought about recommending rope ties, or some such, except that he knows it isn't strictly necessary unless a group is truly wayward... and because he thought the whole idea would go over like a lead balloon for creatures so recently freed from slavery. Brennan has a few words with Dame Jennet, asking her to get as much of the Horse Peoples' story as she can, because they won't have access to them for very long-- and while she's doing that, maybe talk to the ones verging farther out of the herd and gently bring them back in.
"Have you noticed, Sir Brennan, that they only seem to talk in the presence of Lorides? I'm not sure if they can't, don't want to, or just don't trust us, and they certainly seem to understand us more than horses do, but I basically have to talk to Lorides to get answers." She will do what she can, but doesn't hold out much hope.
Until that moment, Brennan had been in commander mode, thinking about a lot of things at once because there are a lot of things to keep track of-- Lorides, the Horse People, the Knights, the Moonriders, Severity, the logistics of travel, puzzling out the Moonriders' methods, just to name a few. That comment moves him out of that mode, at least briefly, and gets his full attention. "No, I hadn't," he says. "That's a good observation." Something about it catches in Brennan's mind, and makes him wonder if Lorides isn't somehow granting them the ability, but in any case it just seems... odd.
But observing the Moonriders as they travel is more important.
Aside from that, Brennan contents himself watching the Moonriders in action, forming, refuting, and re-forming theories on their actions.
Once they are settled in a pleasant valley near a broad grassy plains, Shadowslayer asks if Brennan is ready to move on.
Brennan notices that the sun has been low in the east for most of the morning. It's a hell riding trick, which tends to stretch the available daylight. He's not sure how that works for the time-manipulating Moonriders, but they've definitely chosen paths that stay early.
That puzzles Brennan. He has a model for how they're moving so efficiently through Shadow, which is simply ("simply") by taking every natural path they see, and reporting back to themselves how well it worked and not taking it if it's a bad path. But that would seem to be a titanic effort, depending on how many natural paths they have to evaluate, or with what frequency. Controlling for a second variable, such as the position of the sun seems... possible, theoretically... but even more difficult. And he's not sure he'd bet much on the theoretical possibility, either.
Brennan contents himself with trying to answer the following questions for himself, as they travel:
First, how fast are they going, according to the only standard that matters right now, which is Brennan's own speed. Does he think he could go faster? Second, how often are they moving from one path to another? Brennan isn't sure, but he thinks the right metric is, but it's probably more of "paths per subjective time," than "paths per mile." Third, related, are they not taking any paths, meaning, can Brennan detect any paths that Shadowslayer is declining to take?
They're riding at a brisk but sustainable pace, like a group of riders who intended to go on for days without changing mounts would go.
They're not hell-riding, so yes, Brennan could bring about changes faster. Although he hasn't really hell-force-marched a tiny army, so he'd probably want to experiment a bit before a full hell-ridin', hell-ropin', and hell-wranglin' hell-rodeo.
It's hard, with natural shadow paths, to detect them. Both staying on the path and moving off it take one to logically plausible destinations. Brennan experiences it more akin to a change in temperature or barometric pressure than an observation. There seem to be two modes. One of many small changes very quickly, alternating with a longer stretch and a more pronounced change at the end of it. It seems to Brennan that the goal of the former mode of transit is to find the places that lead to the latter paths.
Those are the "easy" ones, and he concentrates on those first because they can all be answered with either passive Pattern senses, passive Sorcery senses, or both. (He tries both.)
With his third eye, Brennan can see them sometime stretch oddly, as if they were in two places at the same time. Astrally, it looks as if there is an out-of-phase abandoned self who doubled back and took another route.
When Shadowslayer asks if he's ready to depart the valley, Brennan defers the question to Lorides-- are they content here? If yes, Brennan makes sure that he himself can get back here, and makes ready to move on.
Lorides checks with another horseperson, and agrees. He hopes Brennan will be able to bring him back here afterwards.
This is likely to be Brennan's first, last, and only chance to do this, so it's somewhat impulsive: He watches Lorides and the other Horse Person as they come together, confer, and move apart. He watches them astrally, looking for evidence of some sorcerous or otherwise magical influence between them, following up on his and Dame Jennet's earlier suspicion.
Brennan looks over Lorides and thinks there's definitely something happening magically between them, but it's not clear what it is. Being on the order of a full ton, Lorides is a lot of living creature and shows up very strongly to astral vision. He seems to have some sort of cloud around him, like a glow. It's not something Brennan has experience with before, and he can't tell if the other horse gets brighter, astrally, when he's with Lorides. It could be, or Brennan could just be expecting it.
"I'm watching you, Lorides," he thinks to himself, but doesn't share because all he has is an inconclusive astral viewing and a general sense of distrust. But he has to let it go, at least for the moment. And since Lorides declares his people content, Brennan is content to move forward again.
As they do so, Brennan considers what he had observed of the Moonriders before, that odd stretching and hypothetical doubling back. That mostly makes sense to Brennan-- but it's interesting that they seem to have to travel a short way along a path in order to evaluate its long term suitability. Or at least that's how Brennan tentatively interprets those alternating periods of short bursts and sustained travel. That might imply that their fugue abilities are limited to single shadows.
For the moment, he continues to observe, especially those "doubling back" moments. Are those the moments when they are heading forward? Or when they are coming back? Or when they are going back? Those are all distinct cases, although maybe the first two always appear simultaneous to Brennan's senses. He particularly looks for a case of going back because that carries some really disturbing connotations for what's happening to Brennan himself during this process.
But if he catches one going forward, he tries to follow it, visually, for at least a little bit. This will obviously require Sorcery, and Third Eye probably won't cut it, there has to be at least some working of Time. Maybe, if necessary, an Astral twist to it as well, because he half expects that various fugue stages are connected by Silver Cords.
It's hard to tell what's going on. It's not sequential. It's more like sometimes there are four of Shadowslayer at some moments, and they stop being duplicated. Or perhaps as if he'd taken a left turn at an intersection, then was on both the left and right paths, and then had always taken the right path. There's no good way to describe it with traditional 3 dimensional movement-through-time. The persistence seems to be related somehow to the edge effects of looking at it with his third eye. And like the nebulous edge of that, it fades out over time.
When there are multiple Shadowslayers, do they seem connected? Brennan will definitely look in full Astral mode to see if there is a Silver Cord or related effect going on.
Not in the sense of "something you could cut", but more like "if it was impossible to tell where Shadowslayer is, because he's both here and there, and the fuzzy border around him seems to expand to a big cloud of possible Shadowslayers." The places you see him seem to be just the places it's most likely that he is. It's more like you're predicting where he is until he's actually there. The places between, where there would be a cord, are more like a web, and it's mostly that they're just the least likely answers.
Brennan's best guess on the rhythm is that it's a matter of setting up a good change with several micro-changes, but it's more like the cadence of an army marching across a bridge (complete with deliberate mis-steps) than it is like a dance. It's also possible that it's a peek-ahead to find the next good natural path.
The cadence thought is interesting-- Brennan makes a mental note to talk to Benedict about that idea, if he can't follow it up on his own. Or maybe Bleys, for the theoretical side of it. Following the metaphor of Patterns and Real objects as pressing down on Shadow, it does make some sense-- some-- to think of motions as sending vibrations across Shadows. He thinks back to some of the discussions he'd had with Cambina about the interregnum, and it seems-- somewhat-- plausible that Eric might have been able to glean some knowledge of Corwin's and Bleys' movements that way.
That's a thought for another day.
Regardless the results of his looking for Silver Cords, Brennan eventually brings himself up alongside Shadowslayer (or Unsheathed if this mode of travel takes up too much of Shadowslayer's concentration to talk.) "I have a question, if you'll indulge me," he says by way of preamble: "During the chase across the sky that led us to the Silver Towers, why did you not contrive to arrive before I did?" It's not an accusatory question, it's genuine puzzlement since Benedict put that particular bug in his ear. And by "contrive" Brennan clearly means Moonridery time manipulation.
Unsheathed is not too busy to talk. "How do you know we didn't?" He chuckles. "It's a fair question. We didn't, that is true. Why do you think we didn't?"
Well he wasn't, until Unsheathed confirmed it. But it seems impolitic to point that out.
"I see no advantage in arriving second," he says, "and depending on how much earlier you arrived, you could have scrambled the deck and used it to increase your lead further by putting obstacles in my way. Or, the other side of the coin, once I arrived, it would seem you could have chosen a different destination entirely."
"That's interesting. At the furthest resolve, the easy answer is 'we didn't feel the necessity of it', but let me phrase it a bit differently and more satisfactorily. We foresaw a satisfactory conclusion to our mission that did not require it.
"Now, if I may be so bold, once we were diverted from our original goal, what made you chase us across the clouds to Lir's Tower?"
Brennan considers Unsheathed's answer to be somewhat evasive: Because we didn't wanna. But it's not nothing-- it implies they could have.
To Unsheathed's question, he gives an initial side-eye while composing an answer that does not include the phrase, 'Tear-assing around downtown Avalon.'
"To prevent you from making further mischief," he says simply. "Specifically, I could not rule out the possibility that you had positioned or could quickly raise another force that you would cycle back into the battle, or use to make another separate attempt. I expected there to be further violence when we met.
"And, by the time you were closing in on the Silver Towers and made that calculation, was your mission-- your immediate goal-- the same as when you were coming out of the forest?"
"It can be both a strength and a weakness of our gifts, that we are quick to pivot when we see new opportunities. Longer term objectives that have less immediate payoffs are easy to sacrifice for a more direct goal.
Well that is a piece of information that may be more revealing than Unsheathed had intended. It doesn't give Brennan the quantitative information he craves-- that may be simply unobtainable-- but it does give him vital qualitative information: It strongly strongly implies that there is a horizon to their ability, at least insofar as it affects their decision making processes.
Logically, this had to be so, and metaphysically, too. But since this is the first fight they've been in without Oberon to call the shots, it is reassuring to hear. And the insight of how this weights their decision making process-- toward the near future rather than the distant future, oddly enough-- may end up being extremely valuable. It implies, among other things, that their martial brilliance is weighted toward the tactical than the strategic... and that they can be suckered, hoodwinked, and diverted.
"Assuming our goal was 'retreat to a height unbothered by Amber's soldiers and reassess'. That reassessment led to the realization that we should head here.
"Also, it was away from you." He nods in acknowledgement of that choice.
The land they are passing through now is turning from forest to drier prairielands. It hasn't been a clean edge, but it definitely has changed. The sky is also changing, but there's still a sun, so it's not chaotic, yet.
With stoicism worthy of Martin, Brennan merely nods back rather than grinning an insufferable grin and asking how that worked out for them.
If they're playing Questions, then by Brennan's count, it's still Unsheathed's turn. Brennan waits a polite beat to give him the opportunity before moving on.
"Tell me, if you would, of your Knightly Order. There were no such Rubeus Knights at Jones Falls, that I heard of in tales."
"You are correct: There was no Order of the Ruby at Jones Falls, as the Order did not exist at the time of Jones Falls. Our Order was created on the field of battle at the far end of the Black Road," Brennan says. It's silly, but a lifetime of being cagey won't quite let him refer to it as 'Patternfall,' even to a Moonrider who must surely know what was happening. "All the Knights you see here but one are veterans of that war.
"Dame Patience," Brennan indicates the Knight with a nod, but doesn't expect her to see it. "Who served under Princess Llewella. She is, as you have seen for yourself, a highly skilled archer." Brennan describes some of the individual scenes of the Battle of Patternfall-- not really enough to form a coherent picture of the whole thing, but enough to emphasize the fluid and small-c chaotic nature of it as Amber's forces were sometimes swarmed and nearly overwhelmed, only for the battle to ebb shortly after, constantly leaving units separated or fractured and needing to reform.
The tale Brennan tells of Dame Patience is one of those moments: She and almost half a unit of archers found themselves desperately pressed, then abandoned but isolated from the rest of their peers, and no officers among them. Patience-- not an officer or a soldier-- had the presence of mind not to scramble to re-unite immediately, but to calmly assess the field and lead her cohort to support first Brennan's own unit and then Lilly's unit as they each in turn were swarmed. And her cohort followed her. "Leadership, tactics, skill at arms: For these, I knighted her with my own blade.
"Sir Crescent," Brennan indicates the man, "Who served under then Prince Random directly. He was ordered to lead a small band to support me..." Brennan goes on to describe the abrupt turns of the battle that rendered Random's initial orders first ineffective, then actively harmful. Crescent, the son of a peer but not yet a peer himself, failed to obey Prince Random's orders, instead somehow managing to distract and then lure away a clutch of single-minded Chaosi away from Princess Deirdre... who in turn leveraged that respite into forward motion for the whole infantry line of Amber. When at last he was able to report to Brennan, he explained his actions, manifestly uncertain what Brennan-- or Prince Random-- would make of it. "Strategy, innovation, skill at arms: For these, I knighted him with my own blade."
Brennan can, in fact, tell the battlefield story for each and every one of the Knights-- not just the ones he raised, and not just the ones he witnessed. But that would be time consuming, so he doesn't.
Unsheathed nods at the right places and takes in the stories.
If that answers Unsheathed's question, Brennan asks another of his own: "And how did your people face the Black Road, once it appeared?"
"With valor, grim determination, and no small loss of life. It was in the fight against the interlopers that First to the Fray got her name for the first time, and won the right to bear the Sword Tizóna. We were chasing foes back down the road when we came across the funeral procession."
Brennan nods as though he can imagine it, although he was obviously not with them at the time. "I fought along the Black Road for decades," he says. It has more the character of an admission than a boast.
He pauses. "Did you know the late King?"
"I did not," Brennan says after some length. "It is one of the great regrets of my life.
"Did you fight at Jones Falls?"
"I did. It was the second time I met King Oberon. He knocked me unconscious and left me on the ground." Unsheathed doesn't seem particularly disturbed to admit it. "I like to think it was intentional rather than accidental. I am not sure any of us wanted to really face the destruction and death of the day.
"He didn't have to let us live, or be free. We could've been like those sad creatures in Rebma."
The road continues in a direction Brennan arbitrarily calls "South" and across the plains, soon becoming more of a trail. Brennan would think he was reaching a natural desert, if there was much natural about their method of travel. The most plentiful item here are rocks, which seem to be rolling in the breeze.
"If received history is correct, this would have been shortly after the sack of Amber, yes?" Brennan asks. It might technically count as a second question, but it's really just a clarification of events. "Perhaps so shortly after as to be called 'during.' I never met that man, but you speak more kindly of him than many I've met."
This, though, probably counts as a second question: "If none were ready to face the destruction of that day, then... why? This is your chance to tell the story of that battle from your collective perspective." Brennan rather carefully does not promise to believe him, only to listen.
He nods and focuses for a moment on his horse. "I'd be interested in hearing the legends and songs about it from your people. From my memory, it wasn't much of a sacking. We took the postern gate and pushed for the harbor, but we didn't make it there before your admirals had the fleet removed from the docks. We were bottled up for 3 days before we could clear a way for a break out into the woods. We drove the enemy forces down the coast until we hit the reserves at... what'd you call it, 'Jones Falls'?
"In any case, by that point we were bottled up. The sea to one side, Mountains to the south, Princes of the Blood holding the passes to the east, and the King of Amber bearing down on us from the rear with a fresh army. Our only choice was to try to break out into Arden through the passes.
"But if you're asking why we came down the mountain in the first place, I cannot tell you. I was ordered to do so, and I followed the orders I was given as if they had come from the Queen herself."
They ride past the rolling rocks, which seem to be bouncing in the air for longer periods as they move along. The landscape is grey and trails from the rocks litter the sand as far as Brennan can see.
Brennan considers that, and the various accounts he's read and heard first hand, while studying the tumbling tumblerocks.
"Dame Jennet has a better singing voice than I do, and likely a larger repertoire of the ballads-- I'm sure she'll be willing to trade," Brennan says. Mostly because he's already ordered her to do just that. He doesn't feel like singing any of Corwin's stuff himself, which is mainly what he knows. Always catchy, but annoyingly melodramatic to Brennan's tastes. "But suffice to say, multiple eye-witnesses have used that term. I'm familiar with sifting through different accounts and tellings of the same event, but it's not often I have such conflicting views from those who were there."
He shrugs, mostly to express that these things happen, and to show that he's not accusing Unsheathed of lying.
"That aside, you do understand why there is a certain amount of concern over your attempts to occupy Tir again, yes?"
His answer is simple and subdued. "If Amber were lost to you, would you try to return? Regardless of why?"
Brennan wonders, with more than idle import, whether he realizes what's happened to Amber since Oberon's death.
"The question isn't 'Regardless of why?'" Brennan says. "Turn the question around and ask rather what you would do if my path to Amber cut through you and everyone you love." His voice is calm, but there is unbending steel in it.
Unsheathed ponders for a moment as they ride past the rocks skipping across the plains like so many dragonflies across a pond. "There are so many options. Clear it of obstacles, perhaps. Help you reach it, if I could. Get out of your way, or move people away if I had to.
"If I have to give just one answer, I'd ask you what you needed, and why you were on this path through my people. As a start."
"Assume I cannot tell you-- that I was ordered to do so, and I follow the orders I was given as if they had come from the King himself." The response is quick enough that Brennan obviously had it ready, but it isn't flippant. It is a bit rhetorical, though.
"You vex me, Sir Unsheathed," Brennan says, without heat, "although I think not intentionally. Yes, when I asked 'Why?' just now, that includes why come down the mountain into Amber-- in force!-- in the first place? I believe you if you say you do not know. Oberon had that reputation about him as well. But it doesn't help me much, either."
Unsheathed does not seem bothered about his vexatiousness.
He pauses, then tries another tack: "You say you followed the order as if it had come from your Queen. If not her, can you tell me who, ultimately, gave the order?"
"Oh, I assume it was the Queen, or the Marshall acting under her general guidance, but I was ordered by my father. He was falconer to the Marshall, while I was a bachelor knight of his Score. I can speculate on why. We had been trapped since the sundering, and we thought we would die if we did not break out." He seems more subdued when giving that answer. "If you ask me why it had to be warlike, that I do not know. I never thought to ask at the time, and no one has a good answer when the younger generation has raised the question in the aftermath."
Brennan's eyes tighten when Unsheathed mentions the Marshall, but other than that, Brennan does not interrupt.
And he is glad he did not: "Did they have any answers at all, or did they just stonewall and deflect?" Brennan asks it like someone who's gotten that treatment himself. Because he has.
"No one clearly displayed their adherence to the principles of logic, reason, and purity of motives in that particular debate." He pauses, and directs his horse forward. "It was a turbulent time, and frankly I was pleased that we were allowed to retreat to Ghenesh and lick our wounds." The rocks have gone from skipping across the desert to floating.
Right, then, stonewalling and deflection it was, he thinks to himself. These guys may be distant cousins after all. Brennan eyes the rocks warily, uncannily reminded of floating dead grackleflints, and one un-floating dead grackleflint. He makes a point to conjure clean fresh water into his and his Knights' canteens.
That goes well. The rocks are starting to look like those rocks.
"The tale of your entrapment is not part of our lore," Brennan says carefully, sensing that this might be a sore point. "I would listen if you chose to speak of it."
Unsheathed is very quiet. "Is it not? It was both simple and vast. People began falling, horrifically, from the skylands. A few at first and then so very, very many. Those of us who did not fall, we saw the dead filling Amber's harbor. And the Queen could not stop it, so she sacrificed the city to save those she could. It's not a thing I can say I comprehend, even though I was there. We expected her to die, and it may be that she did, or partially did. We thought her grace lost forever, for many years.
"As for our salvation, it was a suspended disaster. We were trapped in the city, somehow out of phase and unable to leave. Many succumbed to madness and despair. I remember it only distantly, as if it happened to someone else. Perhaps that was how I reacted to madness, I do not know. Time did not pass for us the same as it did for Amber, and it was a very different city we entered than we had last seen before The Sundering."
Brennan doesn't think that 'The Sundering' is the same one he's familiar with, but it might be related.
"Let me be more precise. Your entrapment," Brennan says with mild emphasis, "is not part of our lore. What happened on that day over the Bay of Amber is remembered with horror. With horror and in nightmares, as I have heard it. It is said that the survivors of that fall were led to Ghenesh. The events surrounding Jones Falls are likewise remembered. What is not is your experiences between the two events. I will make no absolute claim," especially since Brennan knows full well his aunts' and uncles' tendency to overlook personally embarrassing information, "but I don't think it is widely understood you had been there all along."
Unsheathed seems agitated. "That is likely. We spent... a ten-day? A month? Some time at Jones Falls, encamped, before being taken to Ghenesh. Not everyone was able to go of their own accord, so we carried many. It was a hard reconciliation when we got there. We don't speak of it."
Brennan considers all that carefully-- knowing that he's missing something, and obviously not knowing what it is-- as his ingrained dislike and distrust of the Moonriders and his ferocious curiosity both counterbalance against whatever sympathy he would ordinarily have.
"Please excuse my questions, if they are unseemly, Sir Unsheathed," Brennan says. "It is not my intent to press on a wound. But we speak of events that I flatly admit I do not yet understand. Once, far from here, your own Marshal called me out on that. It stung--" he was, as Brennan recalls, rude-- "but he was not wrong. My father, alas, was not forthcoming with any knowledge he might have had, and I have been trying to remedy that and broaden my understanding of history since then.
"Are you willing to discuss this further, or shall we change the topic?"
"Excuse me if I have seemed wounded," replies Unsheathed. Its an odd construction, but it does address Brennan's comment. "The Marshall can be hard to read, and has history with your father that I do not understand. You may meet him again when we arrive at Ghenesh, if he is in residence."
Yes, Brennan was beginning to suspect just that, but it suddenly occurs to Brennan to wonder if the Marshal had anything to do with Brand's madness directly.
"He will be impressed if you have broadened your understandings. He believes that growth is essential to life.
"So I am happy to converse on topics of your choice. I learn from your questions as you learn from my answers. We can also reverse roles."
Unsheathed rides for a moment or two in silence. "Given that your parents were rivals and children are advantages in a zero-sum war for the throne of Amber, why was your generation not murdered by your elders or each other?"
The layers of misunderstanding in that question are so profound, Brennan could almost think it's a trap or a test.
"When I came to play my part at the Battle of the Fixed Place, I had roamed in shadow under an assumed name, and hadn't told anyone my real one for five hundred years. I had not met any of the five cousins I fought with that day. In fact, aside from a pair of brothers, I'm not sure any of us had met any of each other, either. Is that what you're looking for?
"But why not ask how my aunts and uncles did not simply murder each other before we were ever born? The answer to that is Oberon, who made his wishes very plainly known on the subject of fratricide and sororicide. I doubt many were willing to ask forgiveness or permission for the murder of his grandchildren.
"Aside from that, you might want to reconsider your premises."
"My premises are first, your parents were rivals, second, children are advantages to the parent, third, there was a battle for the throne of Amber, fourth, you were not murdered. Integrating the information regarding Oberon adds the premises that they agreed with or were unwilling to be caught by your King, having committed said act. Which others should I be re-evaluating?
"There's also the possibility that the dead outnumber the living and the currently known grandchildren of the King are the survivors of a larger generation, but I have no evidence for that. I will consider it a combination of factors.
"Thank you for being candid with me. We know very little of each other, really.
"May I ask another question? How is it that you have moved the center of your peoples' to a new city, in the short time since the death of the King?"
"Do you mean, how did the people move so quickly?" Brennan stops to disentangle the calendrical rot of his own personally experienced timeline, against the arguably standard Xanadhavian one, and frowns. "I spend much of my time in Shadow, so I am probably the wrong person to ask. I remember having some discussions with the King, but I don't remember a definitive plan ever being adopted. I'm under the impression that we all made our individual contributions, some large, some small. Beyond that, I don't know much more than the fact that it happened, or maybe that it was done," he says, still frowning.
"As to your premises: Is a throne war really a zero sum game, if the participants have consciences?"
Brennan's last question is rhetorical, meant to be an answer. And since his previous answer is unsatisfying even to him, he waits for Unsheathed's response-- either to pursue the point about consciences or to ask another question.
Unsheathed looks startled and covers it with a short barrage of questions. "Hmm. That implies some or all of the participants have consciences. They have cultivated a reputation for not having them, haven't they? What would it mean to you if they did? Which ones do you suspect?"
"You wound me, Sir Unsheathed," Brennan says, in a studied-- even exaggerated-- deadpan. "Have we been talking all this time with you under the illusion that I am a conscience-less amoral automaton?" He allows his face and voice to relax, because he was never offended at all. "You will, I hope, excuse me from providing you with a detailed psychological profile of all my relatives, but I have a conscience. My father, however, did not. Perhaps this gives me some insight into the difference between the merely ruthless, the simple opportunists, the morally conflicted, the divided loyalists... and those rare individuals with no conscience at all. Or perhaps not.
"As to the generation before that, you met the man: Oberon spared you personally and, by your own admission, could have ended or enslaved the entire force which took Amber, but did not. Do you believe this was an act of conscience, or was he playing an angle?"
"Oberon is beyond my understanding. If I had not met him and you told me that he was not real, but the personification of the idea of Amber, I would have found that credible.
"But your answer, and my apologize if this rubs salt in your wounds, does suggest that there is something to the question. Your father did not have a conscience. You do. Therefore there a different quality between your two selves, and by extension the greater class of Princes of Amber."
Unsheathed appears not to notice that he has promoted Brennan. "So now we have the interesting research project to categorize each group and determine what makes a Prince belong to one population or the other." Unsheathed sighs. "It's not a small task.
"If we were the kind of men who are ambitious for public notoriety, we would publish our conversations with each other in Shantu and Ghenesh. I am sure the people of each land would love to hear our revelations, reconsiderations, and realizations."
Brennan can't decide whether Unsheathed needs to first meet the Little Furry Guys or Benedict. Doesn't matter, though-- neither are likely to happen soon.
"And what of the Moonriders?" Brennan asks. "Conscience is not the only principle around which people or peoples may organize, and my generation knows almost nothing of you and yours."
Near the center of the road and some ways ahead, Shadowslayer is talking with Sir Firumbras. They are laughing. Brennan can't make out what they're laughing about.
"I assumed you were coming to Ghenesh to see us in our current natural habitat. I suspect that we are foreign even to those who knew us of old. How could we not be with the calamity and the breakout and the capture and banishment?
"It's easy, when your culture is dominated by warriors, to say one is from a culture of honor and duty. Those things exist and matter, but it's too easy to define ourselves by them.
"Our culture thrives upon the principle of knowledge, and values explorers and scientists. Being able to tell a tale of a thing no-one else has done is considered a great accomplishment."
Brennan mulls that over, considering privately which of his relations fall into that mold. "Such as a journey to Qidan," He muses. Or, in fact, Ghenesh.
"Unfortunately for that prospect, this," he gestures around him, "is familiar to me. Tell Sir Shadowslayer I want to lead us to a place I know where we can rest after this day's travel."
If they acquiesce, Brennan will lead them to a place where Tower Fiona is visible. Brennan is cagey enough to approximately match Shadowslayer's pace through Shadow and not exceed it. Indeed, he'd prefer to go just a bit slower-- there is precisely zero advantage to Brennan in showing off any advanced Pattern techniques, just as he suspects that Shadowslayer is similarly downplaying his own abilities.
It will also make it easier (because it requires less concentration) to keep an eye on how the Moonriders react to the process.
The Moonriders agree easily to the idea and let Brennan lead them towards the tower. Brennan catches them watching him on occasion. They don't seem to be trying to hide it. They seem to be doing something with their own talents. Brennan suspects it may be pathfinding, so that they can return here if desired. Or else they're scouting for trouble to help the group travel more smoothly.
The tower comes into view on the craggy ridge above a field of sand. It is a barren landscape, but the field of flying rocks makes amazing natural mandalas in the sand. Dame Patience does not want to go anywhere near them, since they are moving quite fast.
Patience is uneasy, but not overly so. "They don't seem to be moving this way, but who knows what will happen when the winds change? We'll set a watch, but if there is a crisis, it will be one for the magicians and not the knights."
"Things that big shouldn't be floating," says Flagstone. He's not talkative, generally. The other knights let him speak for them when he chooses to.
Lorides takes charge of the normal horses, not without some grumbling about how frustrating it is that they cannot talk and how they are not very smart.
Sir Severity is intrigued by flying rocks. They don't have any of those in the Lothangarian Empire.
Brennan notes his Knights' reactions, and smiles to himself. He does not belay any of their precautions.
He notes the Moonriders' lack of outward reactions, and smiles.
"Bide a moment," he says to them all, and pulls out a Trump. He does not dismount and had positioned himself such-- out of habit-- that one would have to be intrusive to the point of rudeness to see whose card he was using.
Hello, Favorite Aunt, he says silently or thinks loudly.
Am I correct that you can hear me without speech? I have a situation.
Fiona is in a castle, which looks like Xanadu. "I can hear you, Brennan." Her lips press together for a second, but whatever she was thinking, what she says is, "What is the situation, and what aid do you require?"
In the briefest terms, the Knights and I are escorting three defeated Moonrider commanders back to Ghenesh, along with Sir Firumbras and his new talking horse Lorides.
Even without vocalizing, Brennan's sense of the mildly absurd comes through. He shrugs slightly at the last part, and the Moonriders can make of that what they may.
I have let them choose the path, and that path comes close to your Tower, as you can probably see. It would be convenient to stop for the night here, either within the field of rocks at the base of the Tower, or within the Tower itself. But not without prior notification and permission.
"Interesting. You have my permission. But which Moonrider commanders are with you?" Fiona asks.
Argalia, called Sir Shadowslayer seems to be in charge. Sir Vigil and Sir Unsheathed are with him. That last one has a fascinating story we must discuss at a later date. Is there anything I should know before we go in? Anything specific we should or should not do, to enter and remain safe?
"Also interesting," Fiona says. "I look forward to hearing this story.
"At this time you should stay outside the Tower. There was an incident there recently. I believe the attackers have left, but keep close watch. It's possible the attackers were other Moonriders, in which case all should be well. It isn't you they were seeking."
Just wonderful, Brennan sends.
Okay, we'll keep out of the Tower. I will extract promises to that effect. I will call back later after we reach Ghenesh, if you like.
"I would very much like to hear about Ghenesh. Have you been to Altamar? It might be useful to compare the two," Fiona suggests.
Briefly. We'll compare notes when I come back. For now, I need to continue babysitting. Thank you, Aunt.
Unless Fiona has more, Brennan closes the contact.
He turns to the assembled Knights and Moonriders. "The hospitality of this place extends as far as the exterior base of the Tower, and no further. We may make camp there if there are promises not to enter the Tower, scale its exterior, or attempt to perceive its interior. I will make this promise on behalf of my Knights and Squire."
Brennan's phrasing intentionally calls back to Firumbras' phrasing at the Silver Towers, with all the implications of execution behind it. He waits for Firumbras, Lorides, and each of the Moonriders to make that promise, before asking if Shadowslayer will lead them all through the field. Needs to say, if he accepts, Brennan watches that bit of path selection very carefully. As carefully and Astrally as he can, without accidentally looking into Fiona's Tower.
Firumbras laughs. "We best not stay more than one night. We can tell ghost stories about the haunted tower. I'm reminded of the tale of Bluebeard, also known as Conomerus the Cursed." He nods at Brennan. "We will attempt not to let curiousity pull us in, although if a maiden throws 50 feet of hair from the tower and demands rescue, I would have do my duty as a knight."
The others seem inclined to let Firumbras's answer stand for them.
Brennan does not share in the laughter. "My friend, I accept your guarantee that Sir Shadowslayer, Sir Argalia, Sir Unsheathed, Lorides, and you yourself will not break the peace of this place, including by entry or other trespass," Brennan says to Firumbras.
The pattern of the rocks is predictable, unless Brennan perturbs them as Random once did. Shadowslayer picks a boring path around the edge of the field of flying rocks. At the periphery the rocks are slow and large, unlike the small, fast ones in the center. Brennan notices more with his normal sight as they approach the tower, including a number of cairns with weapons stuck in them: wooden rods edged in black glass, one of the signature weapons of Uxmal.
Brennan takes one of the macuahuitls as he passes and inspects them idly for workmanship as they go, but he'll take a closer look later on. The presence of Uxmali weapons here-- and Brennan does assume they are Uxmali unless inspection shows otherwise-- does not immediately gladden his heart. When they arrive, Brennan sets up his tent. If Fiona's Tower has a door, Brennan's tent is rather pointedly close to it.
The weapons are either Uxmali or from a very close shadow. They have the right feel in Brennan's hand.
Last modified: 29 October 2020