Jerod and Merlin make their way back around to the room where Papillon and Florimel are watching. Papillon is taking notes and Florimel is watching through the back of what appears to be a portrait in the interrogation room. There are no mirrors, of course.
"She's hiding her lips and speaking low to Celina," Florimel tells them. "She knows we're watching." Her tone adds an of course.
Jerod nods. "I'd expect nothing less," he says. "If she were being loud enough to hear, I'd immediately suspect what she was saying as disinformation."
"I don't think she's doing a great job of convincing Celina," Florimel observes. "Something about the monks and -- Klybesians, yes. Does she have a plan already?"
Merlin is watching carefully to pick up that body language.
In the room, Celina stands, makes a comment to Bend, who responds in brief. Celina leaves the room and joins them in the corridor. "Unexpected, but Bend wants to help Avis. They seem to be planning a break and entry on the monks."
"What are the monks in possession of that would necessitate that?" Jerod asks. "And how does coming to Paris advance that bit of larcency?"
"Bend says she was here to start mirror tasks from artisans. They do some fine work in Paris. The monks have a young woman they've told my mother has Family descent. Bend says they cannot be allowed to hold this woman. Mother and Avis seem to be in agreement on that. I feel about the same. The monks will take her apart slowly. I believe Bend believes these things."
Merlin's gaze had been on Bend, watching as she stoically sits and waits for word, but this makes him turn to Celina. "What do you believe, sister?"
Florimel had been about to say something but she's waiting for Celina's answer. Behind her, Papillon's writing continues to scratch along the paper.
Celina straightens as her TaKhi reflects her inner Order, "I believe it is a trap. That the monks want as many samples of Family and pseudo-Family as they can get so they may take them apart. What better prize than adding Moire and Avis to the blood puzzles they are desperate to solve. Maybe this young woman is remote Family but the reason Avis and Moire have had it dangled in front of them is because the monks like to take isolated Royals into custody."
Celina looks at Jerod and Flora.
Jerod is, not surprisingly, suspicious. "Well, as stories go, it certainly hits all the necessary bullet points for tugging the requisite Family strings for Rebma. Woman at risk, Family descent, etc." he says. "I'm curious as to why mirrors. The monks are not stupid, they'll know mirror work is in the province of Rebma and if the story is true they have a member of that Family in their custody. Logically the rulers of Rebma would do whatever it took to achieve the safe return of the woman, so would not the monks guard against mirror magic?"
Celina nods. "Based on interviews with a former monk, the order may have ties to the Family also. I don't know enough about Oberon's get to speculate. The monks practice some little sorcery; can prepare for sorcery but I'm not sure they can do more than remove mirrors in their demesne as a defense for mirrors. Or put another way, mirrors can do more to you than resonate with the glass you have about. That's without trying to guess why a remote descendant of Rebma would know of the Craft. But your point is still valid, as Moire is very adroit with mirrors, so what kind of offense would she try? Here is one example. Moire or Avis meet the Monks in a 'neutral place'. A hidden mirror captures the image of one of the monks. Later this is used to change the appearance of someone like Bend who gains access to the monk demesne for the break-in."
"It may well be a trap," Flora says coolly. "Or none of it may exist and it's a wild goose chase or an attempt by the agent of a deposed Queen to get into your good graces You should make sure that you are not chasing phantoms."
Merlin says, "If nothing else, we could try the cards."
In regards to the cards, Jerod is...well, skeptical is a polite word, though when you have a Unicorn as an ancestor, you tend to develop a bit of leniency on those kinds of matters.
"Couldn't hurt, and Bend's not going anywhere." Jerod says. "Maybe they'll tell us we have to wall her up in the catacombs of an Italian city." and he frowns. "Need a cask of Amontallido for that though. Oh well."
Celina merely nods once as Jerod agrees. She's managed to get past her initial aversion to Trumps, but it's hard to scrape all of the Seaward out of her fear of supernatural fates.
Celina gestures to Merlin. He probably has the most complete deck. "I submit the question is, 'How best to get advantage on the monks and free this Rebman'." She looks to see if there are other thoughts from her family.
"I want to know who the girl is, and whether she's working with the monks," Florimel adds.
Papillon's head rises, and she says to the group at large, "May I watch? Should I take notes?"
Celina eyes Aunt Florimel. "All part of the experience, Papillon. Notes are not required." Celina looks at Merlin. "One reading is better? I'd say we ask, 'is the girl related to the queen's line and is she compromised by the monks'." Celina looks at Jerod and Florimel.
"Two readings would be better, but I can ask in one," Merlin says, and takes out his cards.
Since nobody says anything to the contrary, Merlin draws the cards and lays them out in the familiar six-card figure.
Bottom row:
Autumn reversed
The Usurper reversed
Rebma
Middle row
Amber
The Fool reversed
Top row
Striking the Dragon's Tail
Jerod hates Trumps...he really does. But he can read them, even if only in a peripheral sense. He looks at the cards, then looks again.
"Son of a bitch." he mutters.
Merlin's eyebrows go up but he doesn't say anything.
"But what does it mean?" Papillon asks, eyes searching the out each of the Amberites in turn. Florimel is looking at the youngsters as well, and her eyebrows rise as she looks at Celina.
"We see through the lens of our life," Celina repeats the mirror art catchphrase. It applies to this, of course, and answers Papillon's question. "The Past is in a state of want. The lack of resources or a bad harvest. It may mean the girl is of a weak line but actual blood. I'm not certain I know this Usurper Reversed of the Present. It may refer to someone who tried to take the throne of Rebma but was not favored. Reversed it suggests someone who is actually closer to the throne than...it appears. It suggests to me we should get this girl out of monk politics. Rebma the future is just where it would be. And it means we are on path to restore it."
Celina nods at the cards, "Interesting. Amber is a Virtue. The girl may be related to both families, as I am. She means Order then whether she knows this or not. Definitely not to be controlled by the monks. Then the Fool Reversed. Lack of connections to ...a Family. Orphaned. The Fault then may be that she doesn't care what happens to kingdoms that have never done anything to help her."
Celina frowns, "Our problem is this last card. We don't understand how badly the problem has manifested. Worse things are out of sight. For instance, the girl may be the head of the monkish order."
Papillon giggles. Florimel looks at her lightly and raises her eyebrows. "They don't think that highly of women," Papillon says. "We're for breeding children and doing housework and occasionally other things we're told to do."
Apparently this has been something of an ongoing subject between Florimel and Papillon because Florimel rolls her eyes fondly. "It seems unlikely, she tells Celina. "Jerod, would you care to elaborate?"
Most people don't see Jerod when he focuses. They're used to the face of Court, of politics. Deception and intrigue are the watchwords of Rebma, especially for males who have little power but many opportunities...for good or ill. The face one wears is the armor of Court, and the means by which deception is offered. One of Jerod's watch phrases surely comes to mind at periodic intervals when people deal with him...."Always let them see...what they want to see."
So when he focuses, the face is different...and considerably so, like a new person. Sharp, coldly analytical, linear, precise. Celina would surely hear the tone of his mother in the monotone of his voice.
"Six card pyramid configuration, reading bottom to top...essential elements reaching to a conclusion." he says, pointing to each card in turn. "Past, present, and future define the foundation of the card reading...the literal essence of what the reading can encapsulate."
He shifts to the second row without stopping. "Cause and consequence accordingly. Straight forward, logical...even if the components are not immediately recognizable due to dealing with a divination."
Pointing to the top card he says "Summary..final result...your objective, your destination...however you wish to process it.
"Reviewing past, present and future, The Autumn Reversed is past, normally a sign of harvest and prosperity, the reaping of hard work and effort, now but for naught...efforts fruitless. Need and want now replace prosperity. Since we are seeking after an unknown tied to the Klybesians, the most probable strong influence to show the past to would be Klybesian's as opposed to an unidentified individual. There is a great desire, a want upon which they are either dependant or have tied to their nature to. This gives them purpose, focus and makes them dangerous because they will defend it as needed, and they will pursue it no matter the cost.
"The Usurper Reversed ties to the present, the opposition to a specific power or individual Since the future is Rebma, it is probable condition to conclude that the Usurper of Rebma...is you." Jerod says, looking at Celina for barely a moment.
Celina intuits where he's going with the card and looks at him.
Merlin also looks at Jerod as if he has something to say, and then bites down on it while Jerod continues the reading.
His barest momentary look then vanishes. "That there is a specific opposition the individual posited for the future due to fact that present tends to, but not wholly define, the future...we must look to elements that would directly relate to that...which would be Moire...a force devoted to opposition to the one that is defined as the Usurper, and that was in fact if carried to a conclusion, was directly impacted by the Usurper, aka the current Queen vs the old Queen.
"The future - obvious since we are dealing with an unidentified individual of apparent Rebma background, with the key players circling that future. It will all tie back to the realm in one form or another."
He switches immediately to the second layer, apparently not even bothering to take a breath though people are probably sure he has done so and it was just not noticeable. "Cause, Amber...not exactly a flattering situation to be placed in but representative of the current state of affairs, especially the fall of Amber and the unleashing of various forces previously kept in check by Oberon and his various machinations. With Amber fallen, those machinations are now gone as any kind of restraining force, so factions once constrained are now free to pursue goals otherwise kept hidden and only dreamt of."
Next card. "Consequence. The Fool under normal conditions is the ultimate truth against which one may gather a measure of the universe. The Fool is immune to the forces of gods and kings...only the truly foolish would ignore the wisdom a Fool can impart based on the events that the Fool witnesses and speaks of, if the recipient is capable enough to filter for the truth hidden therein. The Reversal for the Fool removes all ties. The previous Cause, that of Amber, being the driver for our circumstance, now shows the consequence...or more precisely, ill-consequence. The release of constraint now carries with it the curse of no community, no ties...no controls. The curse of potential disaster."
He points to the top card. "Our objective, our goal. From the original point it would seem a simple matter of retrieving the girl from the Klybesian evil-doers, except that if we look at cause and consequence and how they are impacted by the past of the Klybesians and their drive, the present and future as represented by Rebma with Celina and Moire the number of forces involved seem to be growing without even realizing it and the simplicity of the plan and Klybesian shadow tells me we are seeing only what they want us to see...a convenient set of bait that because it is Family would logically prove irresistible....and would lead to their greater plan...whatever that may be."
He stops then...a slight pause that for some reason seems to last far longer than it actually does in the room's silence. He takes a breath as the familiar face of Jerod and Court re-appears. "Just my opinion is all."
"So how do we use their trap to get the bait away from them?" Celina asks.
"That would depend on the details of their trap. Miss Papillon," Merlin says, "will you bring us the Princess Florimel's files on the Klybesians in Paris? With the Princess' permission of course," he adds, glancing at Florimel.
"Of course," Florimel repeats, and Papillon reluctantly leaves to fetch the files.
Merlin waits until the door is closed to continue. "I have a question for the three of you, based on the reading. If Celina is Usurper in Rebma, and I feel that is -- not wrong, even if it is incomplete -- who is Rebma? And what does this have to do with why the Rebman Pattern is still whole?
"Those two questions...I do not have the answer to." Jerod says. "That's a mystery...one I've not been able to spend time delving into."
Celina nods once to Merlin. She takes a deep breath. "I have a long interest in this question. I would like to share my thoughts." Celina has no reservations about including Jerod in this but pauses a moment to let Florimel decide if she cares to step out. The aunties of Amber seem friendly to Rebman ways.
Florimel remains where she is.
Celina starts in with some passion, "Khela wasn't a Pattern queen, therefore my rule is a question as she had no power to make me her heir. There are too many ways to branch this coral. Moins is supposed to be dead, but there is no shrine or crypt. Princess Mera is supposed to be dead but that was on the Pattern which leaves no evidence. Moins had three daughters and one dies by Pattern, one refuses to walk it, and one walks it but doesn't become queen. Or does she?"
Celina looks at Jerod, "What if Llewella is the queen, holding the Pattern intact, but allows Moins to sit the throne? The explanation has been: Khela's freedom and banishment were a deal by Llewella, but Moire's taking the throne was a feat before Khela got into such troubles I think. And if Llewella was hiding behind this secret, why would she not reveal now that Moire is gone and Khela is gone? That doesn't sound like Llewella to me. She's fiercer than that. She loves Rebma."
Celina goes on, "In my dreams and scrying, Moins is yet a shadowy figure. I see glimpses, but it's like she's shielded in some way. That has always implied to me that she's alive and can defend herself. If she were only in the past, the images should come readily. It's frustrating enough that I once accused Moire of eating a war-injured Moins in the Chaosian way. Mother didn't deny it, she laughed."
Celina adds, "The other notion I had was the pact with the Dragondam. They were allies in the war. The Dragondam agreed to obey and cherish Moins' rule. So if Moins was so injured she went into a coma, would the Tritons hide her in the Kelps until she healed. Would that be centuries? It doesn't quite ring true...."
Celina finishes, "Now how does a lost collateral branch happen? If this girl is Rebman royal unknown, would it be likely a woman would not know of it? Mera didn't go into shadow. Moire used up the daughters she had at hand. Llewella certainly doesn't seem the type to lose a daughter. That brings us back to Moins, who still doesn't seem quite dead, as evidenced by the Pattern. But...Moins was ancient, and we have evidence that if an amberite is hurt badly enough, they can forget who they are. Further, if the royal blood runs all the way back to Chaos, then injured shapers can actually spawn a smaller version of themselves. If this youth is a crippled daughter of Moins, we need to help her. If she has shaper blood, all the more reason to get her out the experiments of the monks."
Florimel says, "That is one possibility, but -- if there was a son -- forgive me, niece, but the sons of Rebma need not be any more careful about where they spread their seed than my brothers have. In this many centuries, there could be hundreds of descendants."
Celina shows her surprise, "Morganthe? Martin could have a brother? Every other lady of the royal line has said nothing about a son. Centuries, then you're saying Moins could have such a secret. I suppose."
Jerod is silent as the back and forth occurs, staring at Bend while listening. Once Celina makes her comment, he turns slightly. "Possibly, but the question then arises...whose Pattern is it?"
Celina's eyes narrow with speculation.
He lets that sink in for a monemt. "A Pattern is its maker and its Maker is the Pattern. They sustain and maintain one another. If one dies, so does the other," he says. "Why does anyone think it is so difficult with all the research people have done about trying to resurrect Amber's Pattern. Oberon is dead...unlike the damaged Primal, Oberon's demise was literal...Amber cannot sustain itself with an empty core."
He turns back to stare at Bend. "The limited information we have on the fix made to the Primal, which logically is Dworkin, would suggest that small corrections can be made if the agent or force performing the correction is suitably close enough in nature to the original creator. Oberon, for what we know, was Dworkin's primary male offspring, closest and strongest in that vein.
"So... if we are looking at the issue of why is Rebma's Pattern still intact, but we are unsure as to what the current status of Moins is...then on the rather speculative leap involving the Rebman Pattern and this unidentified girl in the care of Klybesians...let us ask the question... how close to the originating source of Rebma's Pattern is this unknown girl? Do the Klybesians know more about her background? Does it perhaps give them a hold or link to Rebma's past that we are unaware of? And assuming we do go after her, does the rescue operation run the risk of bringing other elements of Rebma's Pattern into their sphere of influence that they might be able to utilize for their benefit?"
He shakes his head. "Need a damn genealogist," he mutters. "...and a drink."
Celina smiles at that.
"I can arrange for the latter," Florimel says, moving to a cabinet, "but family genealogy isn't a subject I'm well versed on. Not on that side of things anyway."
Merlin says, "You should speak with Folly about family trees. She has the most information."
Celina nods. She sorts her thoughts into order. Jerod has put provacative questions in her mind. "How like the source, yes. The shadows seem to run longer away from Rebma, and the descriptions have called her girl. None of the Pattern rulers have trod lightly. Two points of logic that this isn't a sister of Moins. Then blood descent quickly intervenes to render candidates not close to source at all. Mera, Khela, worthy but not at all close. Llewella, myself, and others close enough to walk fair."
Celina holds up her palms as if asking the blood in her hands to speak. She chews her lip, then, "This is no light exercise, Jerod. I feel we are very close to asking the right question."
Florimel hands Jerod his drink. It is, of course, exactly what he wanted.
He accepts the drink wordlessly, with just the right level of nod that he has for one of his favorite aunt that he appreciate the drink...and she knows it.
"How does Paris figure into this?" Merlin asks. "Paris has a history of its own. It precedes our father, Celina. So if he made it, what does that suggest?" He's frowning thoughtfully.
Florimel is making a drink of some sort for Celina, listening.
Celina sighs, "You are closer to that than I am. My impression from things said is father fell in love with a place called Paris and then found it again at his Pattern when it was needful. So did he capture the older place or remake it?"
Celina looks at the elders Jerod and Flora.
Florimel, who actually lived in that Paris for a time, frowns. "Paris, that Shadow Paris, has been captured. Repeatedly. Rome wasn't built in a day, but it was sacked repeatedly. Dad used to say everything was a shadow of Amber, which clearly isn't quite true. But if Dad was telling a larger truth--what was the sack of Rome a shadow of? What was the capture of Paris a shadow of?"
"Well, Patterns live and flourish, or can be neglected and falter," Celina offers. "I think Amber was dependant on Oberon. It could not remain vital with Oberon dead. That doesn't seem to be a necessity. If repeated .." Celina really doesn't want to use the words she feels, so she picks something else, "...loss of attention creates a yearning but doesn't kill. Corwin could have stepped into that yearning? Did father make a promise of revival? The sacking would be a shadow of a living city spiraling downward in loss. I don't know enough shadow histories."
Jerod sips at his drink, which for others would be minor gulps. "Creator is Pattern, Pattern is creator." he says simply.
"What happened to Dworkin and the Primal? Primal was damaged. So it damaged Dworkin...he was mad...damaged, not whole. Then is repaired and now Dworkin is...well, he's still Dworkin but not as nutsy. Now consider for a minute...if an individual is a creator of Pattern, then it will reflect the greater essence of the creator. At the source, the center...where each great city exists...you could say this is where the ideal of the city, the very foundation of its existence can be found."
He waves his hand around him. "Think for a moment. We are at the center of Corwin's reality...his Paris. Everything about this screams city Paris. We know it...we believe it...its inhabitants tell us about it, live it, breathe it, feel it. Now, consider for a moment...his Pattern city represents his ideal vision of Paris...so that means it exudes the very essence of what Corwin thought was Paris...what he believed...what he desired. That doesn't mean it is EXACTLY like the Paris we might have known in Shadow" and he pauses... "but rather what our senses are telling us.
"Remember...just because we may have walked the Pattern doesn't mean we are completely immune to its influence. The further we get from Pattern, the more we can manipulate Shadow, logically because of less influence...the closer we get to the Pattern center the harder it is...because of its structure, its ideal becomes too powerful to overcome, like a fixed point. But we ourselves are not monolithic. We think the Pattern makes us invulnerable...unchanging...which is a fallacy. We may not appear to grow old...but we do. We learn, we experience emotions...loss, love, regret, hate. Our personalities change and evolve over time. If you disagree...go ask Ossian how I've been treating him of late." and he smiles slightly.
"If we were completely invulnerable to influence...then we would be static...we would never feel...never learn...never age...never change." and he emphasizes that. "So logically, the closer we are to the point of Pattern, the more it influences us to project its vision of what its creator has produced.
"Now...if we are influenced by that...what about the creator? Are they now monolithic? No...because as I previously indicated...Dworkin was affected by the Pattern damage. Amber was affected by Oberon's death. Logically...the state of the creator is reflected in the city...which is reflected throughout Shadow.
"Not to be too crude...but maybe the sacking of Rome was just Oberon having a really bad day. Maybe he was pissed off at one of his current wives before getting ready to dump her?" he asks rhetorically.
"Certainly it is something that I was, and am, worried about concerning Random and the apparent influence that has been holding sway over him. What it's impact is on Shadow is unknown to me."
He looks at Celina. "Think we're getting closer to the right question?"
Celina looks energized but also distressed. "The Queen of Air and Darkness was never gone. Like that Pattern, she was thrown into a mirror state of existence. So really the question is 'Why Moins does not sit in Rebma'? She can't be dead, even if reported so. She's lost or bored or having devious adventures. Moire has been a shoddy caretaker."
"There are a number of options. Lost, bored, in another person's body, incarcerated." Jerod says. "Or, even the unthinkable...someone lied...and Moins isn't the creator after all.
"We need proof."
"Mystery abounds in Rebma," Celina reponds, "Proof is rare." She gestures, "And all that doesn't seem to address our current rescue or not issue."
"It's clear we're going after the girl, if only because she's a clue in this greater mystery. They're expecting Moire and Avis. They're not expecting us," Florimel points out.
Jerod nods once, finishes his drink in one gulp. "Then let's burn the bastards to the ground, shall we?"
Celina nods. "But I want records. The monks collect data and we take any finds to Xanadu and share with Family. The rest can burn."
Jerod smiles. "No, I meant burn the bastards, not their data. Literally, burn them. Data hasn't done anything wrong."
Florimel merely smiles.
Celina says, "Conner needs to know about this royal wrinkle. I'll fill in Llewella. Then we shall see who else can lend a hand here."
Jerod nods, reaching for his own deck and then pauses. "Crap." he mutters, turning to Merlin. "Might I borrow your trump of Martin for a moment?" he asks.
"Of course," Merlin says and fishes it out.
Celina sorts her trumps, finds Llewella near the top and tries for contact.
"Aunt, a few words with you."
"My Queen," says Llewella, nearly instantly. "How may I serve?"
Whatever is going on around her, Llewella is clearly somewhere public. Celina sees the tell-tale signs of motion and current and her aunt's eyes are moving in ways that mean she has to pay attention beyond the Trump.
"Bend has been captured in Paris." Celina summarizes the intelligence, Jerod's important thoughts about Patterns, and the forming plan that this mystery royal shall be rescued and the monks of Paris burned out, their data recovered. Celina recognizes that in public her aunt is not free to speak easily by adding, "I'm going to fill in Conner, anything I need to know from Rebma?"
Llewella nods. "The little Princess is at large in the castle. Timaeos assures me she has not left the grounds." Celina senses that somehow this worries Llewella more than she is saying. And perhaps the worrying part isn't the Princess, but the tritons.
"Reports are that the King is feeling more himself in Xanadu, but we should talk about your kinswoman."
Celina nods to the good in both those things, "Do I need to call back once you are where you can speak freely?" on the mental side Celina lets free into the Trump that she is unsure Llewella refers to the Paris kinswoman or the other half dozen yet alive.
Llewella shakes her head. "Nothing urgent on that front, Your Highness, a Xanadahvian matter. I've tasked Lamell with childproofing some of the lower portions of the castle, but it would make any number of people more comfortable if we were to find the little... Princess."
The not-so-little Princess shifts, looking at someone in the room with her. "Should we prepare to host prisoners from Paris? If you choose, you can certainly claim jurisdiction."
Celina pauses, "No. Bend should be more useful here, and for the time that Paris claims her as a prisoner, I don't have to extend any protection to her. If the monks find out Bend was taken, it should be of concern to them. It also might push Mother to something rash. I'll trust Florimel to make Bend's stay useful." Celina considers Lark and the palace as living within each other's interests. "Pass word to the Tritons, Lark may be seeking focus in the Palace. It's not impossible that Moire hid the jewel within the Palace and it might sing to Lark. We don't want her finding it, she's way too young. Make the Tritons understand that I want the Jewel before Lark and that Lark is in some danger if she finds it. That may produce interesting results."
Celina finishes, "I'll send Conner your regards? Anything specific for him?"
Llewella nods. "Nothing else important. I'd recommend at least mentioning our jurisdiction over our citizens, so you can choose if you're asserting it or graciously letting the matter be locally handled. Did you ever find out how Bend got from the Bastille to the Opera? I missed that part of the story."
It's hard to tell if Llewella is actually concerned about the prisoner or if she's just instinctively hanging on to Rebman diplomatic perogratives.
"I'll try not to get the Tritons too riled up, just appropriately riled up. I will talk to Timaeos." Llewella pauses. "And Atrios. He's quite ready to be a third generation Triton."
Something about that all seems very fluid in a good/bad way to Celina but she lets it go.
"I shall mention my jurisdiction," Celina smiles. "Thank you."
Indeed, after Celina closes the trump, she makes a squid-line for Florimel and explains directly to her, no artifice, that if Bend is extremely cooperative, Celina will want to try and redeem the wretch in Rebma legal status later, as an option. She doesn't try and tell Aunt Flora how the information should be used regards Bend.
"If we move on the monks directly before we can find support from Conner or others, well, you can mention to Llewella that Bend was helpful."
"I'll keep it in mind," Florimel says. She casts her eyes through the window at Bend. Possibly she's still sour about Bend getting out of the Bastille.
Then Celina sorts her cards, looking to Trump Conner.
Once Edan has closed the contact, Folly releases Ossian's hand and begins gathering up the fortune spread on the floor in front of her. "Do you have the trumps you need?" she asks Ossian and Garrett. "I've got Brennan's and Celina's, if you need to borrow them. And Garrett, welcome home! I'll want to hear all about your trip once we finally have a few spare minutes."
"Thank you," Garrett replies. "I wasn't there that long, but Rebma was definitely not what I thought. Now though, the King wants me to go on a diplomatic mission to explain our position on the Queen to the other realms. Can't do that until I know what happened to her though."
"Yes, we were just asking the cards about that," Folly says. As if to illustrate, she pulls one of the cards she's just gathered up, seemingly at random, image-side out so Garrett can see it.
It's the Usurper.
"But yeah, we can't really figure out what happens to Vialle until we find out what's happened to Vialle, y'know?" She gives Garrett a grim smile as she tucks the card back into her deck. "There will be... a lot to talk about at the gathering of Youngers. About Vialle, and the Queen, and Xanadu. I suspect our position won't fully come into focus until after that." Something about the way Folly says "our position" makes it sound very much like a royal "we". "And I need to talk to your dad about all this."
She fishes out another card and offers it face-down to Garrett.
"I have Brennan's card" Ossian says. "How soon do we aim for the gathering? A few hours?"
Garrett takes the card from Folly and looks at it, then waits for her answer about the timing.
Celina's portrait looks up at him in three quarter profile. She is clad in a Rebman-style garment of mesh and pearl, her hair braided in a complicated knot at the base of her neck, and sits in a pose that seems deceptively demure: wrists and chin tilted just so, as if tranquil now but poised to unleash her inner power should the situation warrant.
"Honestly, I think we should tell everyone to get here as soon as they reasonably can," Folly says. "It's difficult to know how time is running in other shadows, and if we say 'a couple of hours' it could easily turn into a couple of days."
Garrett nods once and focuses on the card.
"It's Garrett," the prince says to the card. There have been some developments here in Xanadu and we need to get a meeting of the youngers together. Would you be able to join us?"
After a pause, he continues, "More like a developing crisis, I'd say. The King is back to something close to normal, but Queen Vialle has been possessed by the Queen of Air and Darkness. She was...um...removed from Xanadu by Martin and Edan and is being held elsewhere. There are magical manifestations remaining in the Royal Suite that may or may not still be active. We want to get a group together to brainstorm what comes next."
Garrett adds quickly, "Also, Folly is here and asking about Lark. How's she doing?"
He extends a hand to Folly in case she wants to join the conversation.
Garrett hears Folly make a soft grunt that sounds like an exertion of willpower. "No, I'd best stay open for Edan and Martin's call," she says, reluctantly. "But I'm listening. Thank you. I just have to..." She gestures vaguely, gets up, and disappears through the door that leads deeper into the suite, but does not close it behind her.
Jerod concentrates on the trump, suppressing his natural distaste for them as an interfering thought.
"Jerod." he says simply, once he gets the feeling of connection.
"Jerod," Martin says aloud, in the way that says he's letting someone know who he's talking to. I've got a lot of news and only some of it is good. Do I need to come through? I'm armed and have knights with me."
Jerod shakes his head. "No. I'm in Paris with Celina and Auntie Flora. Bend has been taken while trying to sneak around Paris. We're finishing first round of questioning but she's dropped some news about chasing down a possible family relation, Rebman side, in the custody of the Klybesians. There has been additional discussions on how this relates to Rebma's current situation in regards to her Pattern, her apparent lack of a living creator and other assorted bits."
"Not going through," Martin says, clearly for the benefit of the ones standing by. "That's good news about Bend and interesting news about the rest. I'm in Broceliande, with Edan and the Lamp. Good news is Dad is himself again, bad news is his wife is possessed by the Queen of Air & Darkness and the Marshall just took her away from us. My fault.
"We're working on a cousin meet and greet. Can you and Celina call me back in a few and come through? Don't mention that part to Auntie Flora, just tell her the good news about Dad and the bad news about his wife."
Jerod nods. "That's all doable." he says simply. "I'll be sure to relay it."
"Bide a moment," Martin says, and adds, "Edan? Anything for Jerod?" He holds out his hand in case Edan wants to join the contact and add whatever he learned from the other Trump discussion.
Edan takes the hand. "Hello, cousin," he says. "All I have is the basics: Random is more himself, Lark is with Llewella, Garrett is in Xanadu, and Folly wants me to call her back when I'm ready to return. With you in tow, Martin, I think. The Queen left a magic circle in Xanadu, and they don't know how to get rid of it."
Jerod frowns. "Which Queen are we referring to here?"
"Both of them," Martin says. "Dad's wife was a glove for the other one. Edan saw that." He leaves it to Edan to explain.
Jerod is silent, awaiting Edan's response, but Martin can recognize Jerod's expression even through a trump...akin to an exasperated but silent curse.
Edan doesn't quite sigh. It was Brita all over again. "I never got Vialle to admit how complicit she was. But I, and my affine, saw her completely possessed by the Queen of Air and Darkness. You may already have heard that Tir's Queen had been astrally visiting or buzzing the women of our Family. She managed to embody herself in Vialle. And the pregnancy would give her a body all her own. I did not see any other psyche besides Vialle or the other Queen when I examined her." Edan tilts his head.
"You don't happen to know the name of Tir's Queen, do you? If I run into her +again, it will help."
Jerod shakes his head. "No, sorry. I didn't have the chance to squirrel away that bit of information. Otherwise I'd have used it. A lot easier than reciting the Q of A and D.
"Someone will know it. This is going to be a big meeting," Martin says. "Anyway, shake loose as soon as you can and I'll bring you through: all of you who are there. We may be in the castle or something though."
Jerod nods once. "On it." is all he says before breaking the contact, keeping his wording neutral so there is no hint that future travel may be required that doesn't involve Auntie types.
Edan breaks too, but it is to gather the leaders of the Knights around him so that he can address them before he has to leave.
Edan's knights gather around him. "Mahdi," says Skander.
Martin is shuffling out one of his Trumps but otherwise maintains silence.
"You have done well," Edan says, letting his voice carry. "I see the effort +and the training in you, and I love you all.
"That man, he was the Marshal, the military head of the Moonriders. There are none as tough as he is, but now you see the kind of enemy I was preparing you to face. The circumstances were on his side this time, but it will not always be so.
"You heard what I said earlier. My Queen was possessed by his Queen, and she had King Random in her thrall. We were able to get her away from the king, and he is recovered. Recovering. But I could not hold onto her, for I am not yet a match to the Marshal." For a moment, his expression is indecipherable. "We have both won a thing and lost a thing. I must go and answer to my kin what has taken place, and also to the king. I will return soon as I can. Keep on the path, and we will work on a counter to what you have seen today."
"Sir Edan has served my father the King better than any single man could have hoped today," Martin adds in a voice that isn't loud but projects clearly. "I, Prince Martin of Amber and Xanadu, will tell my father so." In a lower voice, audible only to those close to him, Martin adds to Edan, "Let's go."
Martin thumbs up Folly's card and calls for her. He offers his hand to Edan.
Celina feels the stirrings of a trump call.
Celina squints at the splay of cards in her hands. She steels her mind, "Yes. Who calls?"
"It's Garrett," comes the voice as the prince's image comes into view. "There have been some developments here in Xanadu and we need to get a meeting of the youngers together. Would you be able to join us?"
Celina smiles, "Able to, yes. But we are in the middle of some life and death events. Do you have a crisis?" Celina gestures to Jerod with her other hand.
"More like a developing crisis, I'd say," Garrett replies. "The King is back to something close to normal, but Queen Vialle has been possessed by the Queen of Air and Darkness. She was...um...removed from Xanadu by Martin and Edan and is being held elsewhere. There are magical manifestations remaining in the Royal Suite that may or may not still be active. We want to get a group together to brainstorm what comes next."
Garrett adds quickly, "Also, Folly is here and asking about Lark. How's she doing?"
Celina glances behind Garrett. "Well, then, since that might threaten more than a few important people, you seem to have a crisis. Are you calling more people now or can you wait for Jerod and I to make arrangements here before we come to you?"
"We're calling people, but if your arrangements can be wrapped up in an hour or two, go ahead and finish and call us when you're ready."
Jerod noticed the motion from Celina previously but appears to have been waiting a moment, gauging from body language when it would be appropriate to signal his arrival to her. After the momentary pause, he raises his hand just slightly to signal to her, waiting her response before making contact.
Celina slides a foot in Jerod's direction and shifts towards him sideways while she stays focused on the full image of Garrett before her. She rotates her hand slightly as she moves and the background frame that Garrett can see includes a similar angle all the while. A three-dimensional life under the sea combines well with Takhi skills.
Celina brings two extended fingers up to Jerod's hand, she touches his fingers to bring him into the call. Garrett then appears to both.
Celina says, "We can make arrangements quickly here, yes. Who will be waiting for a call? I don't have your card."
Garrett acknowledges Jerod's presence with a nod and answers Celina, "If you don't have a trump for me, Folly and Ossian are also here. Do you have theirs?"
Jerod is silent, nodding a reply to the prince but awaiting Celina's response.
Celina adds, "Not to worry Garrett, call us back in an hour we'll be ready. Anything else?"
On Garrett's side of things, Edan has appeared in the room and handed Ossian a Trump. The door to the bedroom has shut rather firmly in a way that suggests to Garrett that Folly didn't close it.
"No, I reckon that's it," Garrett replies after glancing up at the solidly closed door. "Folly will want news about Lark when she sees you, but she's busy now. I'll call in an hour or when things start, whichever comes first," he finishes, glancing between Celina and Jerod to include both.
A few minutes after Folly resists the temptation to join the Garrett and Celina Trump conversation, she gets that awkward feeling that tells her Martin is trying to blunt his rough edges in a Trump contact.
Folly accepts the contact. She seems to be controlling the view so it is tight on her face, which looks freshly scrubbed; the tendrils of hair framing her face are still damp. "Martin?" she asks.
"It's me and Edan. Can you bring us through?"
"Sure thing, love, just let me...." There's a flurry of movement and a flash of color as she hurriedly pulls a shirt or a dress on over her head and takes a couple steps back. The view expands just a bit, and it is obvious she's in their suite, washing up at the basin.
"Ready." She smiles and holds out her hand for them.
Martin hands Edan through and then comes through himself.
Edan comes through, then gives Folly a short bow. "Folly," he says, his face carefully neutral. "I did not say this before. You succeeded. Well done."
Folly inclines her head solemnly in acknowledgment, an unusually formal gesture from her. "I accepted a gift, and it set things right," she says. Her own expression isn't neutral, exactly, but she's clearly blunting some complicated emotions. She hasn't let go of Martin's hand after pulling him through the contact.
"And thank you so much for your help," she says, sounding a bit less formal and more like herself. "My plan couldn't have worked without the distraction. I know things didn't end the way you were planning, but just getting the Queen out of Xanadu helped, probably more than you know."
"Any failure of this mission can be attributed to me and what success we had is Edan's doing," Martin says. "And... I hate to be a poor host, Edan, but I really do need to talk to my wife. May we have a moment?" Martin looks at Folly to see if she has anything to add to that.
She squeezes his hand gently. To Edan, she says, "Garrett and Ossian are on trump calls in the front room." She nods toward the partially-open door on the other side of a folding screen; Edan can hear the occasional low murmur of voices. She hesitates, then adds, "And the king is in the throne room, but you may want to wait a bit on making your report. In the meantime, please, make yourself comfortable."
"I'll see you both shortly, then," Edan says, and takes his leave.
Just as he reaches the door, Ossian calls out from the other side asking to borrow Folly's trump of Brennan. She holds up a finger to forestall Edan just a moment as she replies, "Yes, I'll ask Edan to bring it out to you." She retrieves her card case from a cluttered table near the basin, thumbs out a card, and offers it face-down to Edan with a smile of thanks.
Edan accepts it, smiles a little in response, and heads out.
Ossian moves to a separate corner in the room and digs out his father's card. He opens the contact and hopes that Brennan will answer.
When Brennan answers, he is in a small tent, alone, with an unusual weapon, at least for the iron-rich, steel-using Shadows that most of the Family frequent-- a sort of a flat, wooden club set with razor sharp obsidian shards at the edges. It's a weapon that can kill in the right hands, but it seems more designed to hurt and injure.
Brennan is examining it with a professional, almost clinical eye when he looks up into the Trump contact. "What news?"
Ossian shakes his head.
"I'm in Xanadu. The king is restored, but the queen has escaped. I shouldn't say more over Trump, really. We are gathering all the youngers we can get here."
"That was fast," Brennan says.
"All right, I'll come through, but I need to shuffle some cards, first. Do you have one of me that you can pass through the connection? Leaving the Knights in this situation, even with the safety I just put in place, does not thrill me."
Brennan calls to Tenacity, outside the tent, and tells her to find and bring Dame Jennet to him quietly. Jennet currently has his card of Amber, which he wants back, and which he will replace with one of Fiona and, if possible, one of himself.
Ossian half turns around "Folly? Could Brennan borrow your card of himself?" He moves closer to Folly.
"I hope Folly can provide one. This one is just a sketch. Besides, we are talking through it. And I don't have a spare one."
Folly is no longer sitting where she was; but the door to the inner rooms of the suite is slightly ajar, and he hears her call out in answer: "Yes, I'll ask Edan to bring it out to you."
"Fair enough," Brennan says, although he seems inclined to see if Folly can provide that Trump. "Is there some reason we shouldn't be talking over Trumps?"
Edan comes out, gives Ossian a flash of a smile as a hello, and passes a Trump to him, the card face-down.
The door to the private chamber shuts very firmly. Ossian doesn't feel like that was Folly.
Ossian looks surprised, but does not comment. "Thanks. The same reason as always. We don't know who listens. Specifically the Queen of Air and Darkness."
He hands over the card.
Brennan evidently had no idea that was possible-- even aside from the Trump connection, the surprise shows plainly on his face. But he has a neutral expression back in place by the time Tenacity returns with Jennet. He gets down to brass tacks with Jennet, straight away:
"Jennet, I need to step away briefly. So briefly, in fact, that hopefully no one outside this tent will realize it. I need to take back my card of Amber, but I'll give you two in return: one of me, one of the Princess Fiona. If anything here goes even slightly wrong-- and that most definitely includes Firumbras losing control of the Moonriders or anyone looking cross-eyed at the Tower-- you use these. First me, then if I don't answer," which probably means he's dead, "Fiona. She knows we're here," he adds. "This is her Tower."
He takes his card of Amber as well, answers any questions she may have, and departs through the Trump connection to Ossian.
"Listen?" he asks? "To Trump conversations?"
Brennan has arrived in the middle of one of the suites of Castle Xanadu, larger than his own and from the look of it (musical instruments, purple, etc.) he can probably guess it's Folly and Martin's suite. The door to what would be the main bedroom is shut.
Edan is there, Ossian is there, Garrett is finishing a Trump call.
Ossian grins. "Welcome father. It shouldn't be impossible to listen in on Trump calls. Haven't tried, though. I bet the Trump calls others have are much more boring than my imagination."
Garrett finishes his call and slides the card into his back pocket. He looks up at the group. "Edan, Brennan. Good to see you both," he greets them.
"Thanks, good to be back," Brennan says, sweeping the room at a glance. "How long has it been since we've met?"
"Ossian, we need to talk about this Trump thing later-- I had always understood them to be secure," he says. "Having reason to think they're not isn't going to do my paranoid tendencies any good. But two more pressing questions are: First, where's Regenlief? She's not invited to the meeting, but it'll be useful to know if she's somewhere close by. I expect the topic of that rutter she found may come up. Second... we're not doing this here, are we? Not... right here in this room?"
"That's... a really good idea. They're trying to gather everyone possible, at least all of our generation. Perhaps somewhere outside might be a better place."
"Definitely not here," Garrett states firmly. "Outside would be good. Stables are too busy. Somewhere a bit out of sight might be best. I just spoke with the King and while he didn't forbid a meeting, he didn't seem to feel that one was necessary. So...not hidden, but not in plain view either. Ossian, do you know of any good spots?"
Ossian frowns. "Well, I have always thought that the view from the west side fencing room is very nice at this time of day...as for Regenlief, I don't know where she went. Jerod Trumped out with her when I talked to you last time. I guess that was some kind of emergency."
"Hmm. Well, whoever brings him in, if he's not already here, should mention that to him. As for locations, perhaps something outside the castle. The Grove of the Unicorn?"
"Might I suggest a happy medium, outside the castle but not as far as the Grove?" Edan calls for a page while they decide.
A page arrives with such alacrity that Edan assumes they were waiting close by for the call.
Ossian shrugs "As long as we avoid the Trump Gate from Amber. Unicorn knows I have seen enough of that room."
Garrett chuckles at Ossian's comment and turns to Edan to hear his orders for the page.
Edan says to the page, "That area out in the gardens, past all the pear trees. There's still a gazebo and a little pool out there, yes? Enough for a little gathering of cousins, which is about to happen. Can it be prepared for an informal meeting? We'll be moving outside, and at least twice the number of us here, to be safe." He shrugs, and adds to family, "We can always move out farther, but there we'll have some distance and still have quick access to whatever we need."
The page peers in and counts off how many are there, and then says, "yes, milord," and runs off to do Edan's bidding.
Garrett waits a moment for the page to depart, then moves toward the door. "Let's head on out then," he says.
Assuming the others follow, he leads them out of the castle using a route that avoids the throne room; one that is probably used more often by servants than royals.
Edan is happy to walk along, and he even snatches a few pears along the way, if they're in season.
The smell of cooking food after a half hour of vigorous off-road climbing makes everyone a bit hungry.
The kitchen is a hive of activity, with plates of hot and cold meats and cheeses and pitchers of drink being prepared and whisked around by various cooks, butlers, dishwashers, and assistants. One of the undercooks sees the door open and moves out of the way. "Plus Four!", he shouts and the staff slightly adjusts, although s unclear how they know what to do. A large tray of bacon is moving towards the far door, and an equally large tray of plates is returning.
No one seems to take any more notice of them than that.
First seems a bit surprised at all the activity and her stomach rumbles slightly.
Coming in the kitchen from the opposite direction is another figure: Signy.
Brita observes the flow of dishes being plated in the room for a minute, then snags four plates and sets them in motion through the current with a soft "Four Mixed plates to Go, Please," to the first undercook in the plating stream. When she sees Signy, she adds, "Plus One," before heading towards the end of the line and Signy. "I was Thinking to Go Rest in the Walled Garden Off the Tower after Our Hike Up the Hill. Will You Join Us, Cousin Signy?"
"Our Cousin Signy," Vere murmurs quietly to First. "Daughter of the Princess Deidre and Weyland Smith."
Robin nods a greeting to Signy, just the person she was hoping to see.
Signy blinks in surprise at seeing three of her cousins appear in the kitchens like this, pulling her gaze away from the tray of bacon that is making its way to the door.
She gives a brief, warm smile to the group as she falls in next to them.
"Cousins," she says by way of greeting. "This is a good time to catch back up. Breakfast is good, but we kind of ran out of some things in the main hall, so I took an opportunity to sneak out to see if I could get a jump on any restocking. A break in the garden sounds perfect."
She gives a passable half-bow to First. "I don't think I've met you. I'm Signy, Dierdre's daughter."
First responds, her movements nearly impossibly fluid. "I have heard of both of your parents. It is a mighty lineage. I am called 'The First'. My father marshalls the Moonriders."
Robin and her firelizards stay as out of the way as possible, despite all four of them having grumbly tummys. She does however clear her throat quietly to the line chefs. "An additional small plate of meats please."
Robin doesn't know the pecking order in the kitchen, although there is clearly an order. Someone looks and someone else nods, and a young woman returns with a bowl of raw entails and organ meats. The little lizards have been eyeing the people food, but this is more to their liking.
Yay, entrails! Robin thanks the young woman profusely as she accepts the bowl.
"Have the plates sent to the walled garden off the tower," Vere repeats to the staff. He is certain that they heard Brita say that, but since she didn't say it directly to them it is polite to repeat it, to maintain the fiction that servants don't listen to what goes on around them. "Along with a variety of drink." His gaze turns toward the direction of said garden, he spends a moment mentally calculating the best route to it that has the least chance of encountering curious courtiers, then says, "Cousins, and First, shall we? It is this way." And, having not been instructed otherwise, he continues pushing the cart through an open doorway and down a corridor.
Brita, who had meant to wait and carry the food herself, glances between the controlled whirlpool of activity and her departing kin before shrugging slightly. She says to the staff, "Thank You All. We will Clear Out of Your Way." And then she follows the others to the garden.
Robin follows, splitting her attention between the bowl, the hungry firelizards and the cart.
Signy follows the group as they make their way towards the garden. She seems to have become as adept as anyone in the family at magically making her plate fill itself from thin air.
She smiles at First as they walk. "I met one of your kinsmen this morning, as I made my way back to Xanadu. The Shield, I think was his name."
"Really? Perhaps I am 'Second' to you, then." First smiles. "He is usually close to the Marshall." First seems to be about to say something, or perhaps did say something, and then... doesn't.
The garden here has always been interesting. In addition to a small herb bed for the kitchen, it's also designed for someone who is more interested in sounds and smells than in the look or arrangement of plants.
It looks like it has been untended for longer than normal.
Vere pushes the cart containing the chest to a corner and leaves it, then looks around the untended garden with a frown.
Robin sets the bowl of entrails down away from the table and lets the firelizards know that they are to share with one another. Catching Vere's frown she murmurs, "The queen hasn't been here for a while?"
The Firelizards swoop on the food. First watches them and waits to see when they should eat the food that has been brought.
Vere looks over the drinks that the servants left and smiles when he sees that they remembered his fondness for pear cider. "Gin and tonic, my love?" he asks, already beginning to fix the drink. "Brita, First, what would you care for?"
Robin nods and grins her 'yes' to Vere as he mixes the drinks. As she settles into her seat and pulls her plate closer, she addresses her cousin the smith. "Signy? I have kind of a challenge for it, if you'd be up for it?"
Brita responds with a simple "Water,Please," to Vere as she grabs two plates, offering one to First as she aims at a bench near the tower wall.
"Water for me as well," replies First. She takes the plate from Brita and follows her towards the bench.
Brita lets First settle and take a bite before asking, "How do You Want to Present Your Self to The King?"
Vere brings everyone's drinks to the table and sits. He begins eating while watching everyone else without appearing to do so.
Signy takes a pull from her coffee mug that had been hidden underneath her plate on the walk outside, and waits for the First's answer.
First shrugs. "I am technically a prisoner, paroled to your company by the Prince Martin, but I am also a sympathetic emissary from a foreign power and, against all odds, a friend. Not in chains at the very least." She turns to Robin. "In reversed circumstances, Sir Robin, how would you want to be presented?"
Robin thinks about it for a moment. "Well, assuming you mean how would I want to be presented to King Random as opposed to The Marshall; I think I'd want a small casual audience. With food involved, so maybe lunch or second breakfast. Then I would do my best to be straightforward and honest. The King may be very casual and honestly, somewhat playful, but for all of that he is quite sharp, alert and aware.
"Does that help?" she finishes.
Vere nods. "Respectful informality, I would suggest."
"I think that is an excellent suggestion, your Highness," says First. Apparently "informality" is not an easy thing for her.
Signy finishes her swallow of coffee, and looks at Robin. "I'd be interested to hear what you have for me." She gives a friendly smile. "Though my smithy is in Rebma, but I'm sure that we could find a place here if we needed."
"It's this," Robin says as she unstraps the scabbarded sword from her side and lays it down very gently where Signy can get a good look. The sword is fairly simple. The scabbard, though new, has seen better days. It has little cuts and rents throughout its length and won't be serviceable for very much longer.
"I found this socked away in a place no one would be looking for it, so I'm claiming it until I hear otherwise. My main concern is that the blade itself is sharp enough to cut stone. So, how do I safely sheath it?" Robin looks at Signy with a curious tilt to her head.
Vere continues eating while watching Robin and the sword.
Signy looks at the sword. It has a simple cross-guard with a leather wrapped grip and a counterbalancing pommel. The hilt looks as if any army could have mass-produced it.
The blade is different. and Signy thinks the hilt is a replacement of some sort. The blade is tapered with an acute point for thrusting, but the edges seem to be made for cutting as well. There's no maker's mark on the ricasso, so it's probably on the tang under the guard.
It's not a Weyland sword. But it could be from one of his students. And it shouldn't be able to cut stone.
Signy looks up from the sword, her plate and mug sitting next to her forgotten for the moment. "This is interesting. My father didn't make it, but neither did any ordinary smith."
She lifts the sword to look at the tang for the mark of the maker.
"How do you know about the stone cutting? The blade is beyond what most could make, but it doesn't look like it's on the same level as a sword like Greyswandir."
She looks around, noting a larger rock in the garden that would be a good candidate for testing the claim, but holds off on actually testing them for the moment.
Vere chuckles slightly. "You should have seen her sliding down the side of the cliff, sword in rock like a theatrical pirate sliding down the canvas of a besieged ship."
Robin laughs, her eyes glowing with remembered excitement. "That was fun! But I think I'll hold off on doing it in the dark in a snowstorm again."
Becoming slightly more serious, she addresses Signy. "Agreed that was the only stone I tried it on. But you can see how it's chewing up that scabbard."
Signy thinks from what she's seeing of this blade that it could do that if it were enchanted. She could make a blade of this caliber herself but she'd have to learn the enchantment from someone. She learned from her father that magic like that always has a price.
There is a mark on the tang, but it's not immediately clear who made it from what she sees. She might have seen the mark, two concentric circles with a smaller 3rd circle between the inner and outer rings, somewhere, but she doesn't recall whose mark it is. She expects that her father could tell her. She's unsure if he would tell her, though.
Signy frowns, studying the mark on the hilt and trying to remember where she saw something that resonates with her now when she looks at the mark.
Standing up, she walks over to the rock in the garden that she had been eyeing for this purpose, and experimentally rests the edge of the sword onto the rock for a moment, before flexing her wrist so that it rasps slightly as the point comes to rest on the rock.
Slowly, she starts to apply pressure and tries to push the blade into the rock.
Brita watches Signy as she continues to eat. "Respectfully Informal Is Good to Approach King Random. Honest and Forthright will Also Aid Your Cause," she says to First.
Robin's watching Signy and listening to Brita. Oh, and eating.
Vere nods absently at Brita's comment as he, too, watches Signy and the sword and continues eating, occasionally absently flicking a tidbit to the firelizards.
First sips her water and watches.
Signy pushes slowly and then with more and more force. Only her skill, strength, and discipline allow her to succeed, and she's not certain if that would happen with a normally excellent sword. It could be a rock that isn't that hard.
"Xanadu's natural resistance to Sorcery," Vere murmurs quietly to Robin. "Assuming that it is Sorcery, and not merely some exceptionally powerful shadow magic. We can determine that later be testing how powerful it is in various shadows."
Signy removes the sword carefully from the stone, before giving it a light rap on the flat of the blade against the stone, listening and feeling the vibrations.
"I could make a blade the equal of this, but the binding of the magics to make it do what it does to stone is complex," she tells Robin.
"The mark of the smith that made this is on the hilt here," she continues, angling the blade so that Robin can see the circles etched onto it. "It's familiar to me for some reason, but I cannot recall where I saw it. It isn't my father's mark, but I would be surprised if he did not know of the smith, and most likely train them."
First looks over to see the mark, but keeps out of the way and out of the conversation, for the moment.
Vere shakes his head. "I cannot recall seeing that mark before. Our Elders might know it, if the smith was prolific."
Robin nods her understanding of Vere's comment on Sorcery and smiles warmly at his suggestion of further testing. Her Beloved, ever the sleuth.
She leans over to observe the smith mark as Signy points it out. Looking over at her cousin, she asks, "Would you need to be in a Shadow where the sword is very sharp to make a sheath? Or could you do that in Rebma or here? Cause I'm kind of fond of this blade, student project or not." She finishes with a smile.
Signy gives a rueful shake of her head. "The blade is Sorcerous, so you'd need to be in Shadow. That it's affecting the scabbard this way makes me wonder what it *isn't* a danger to, it doesn't seem like it's specific to stone based on what it's doing to the scabbard."
She pauses, before deftly flicking her wrist so that the blade is pointed downward, with the hilt angled towards Robin so that she can safely take it.
"Where did you find it? My father may know more, at least of the smith that made it, but knowing at least part of its history may help research it through other avenues as well."
"It was stuck into a cliff on Cabra," Vere explains. "There is a mystery, or perhaps several, there. A wrecked ship of Bellum, with a chest containing Klybesian weapons..." he gestures at the chest in the corner. "The lighthouse keeper missing, perhaps murdered by smugglers. A ghost with an ominous warning." He smiles and shrugs slightly. "It could have proved an interesting adventure if we had not needed to return so soon."
First looks at Vere again. "Did you wonder, Prince Vere, why there were so many interesting adventures on such an out of the way island? I have three theories. It may have been a trap for anyone investigating the island, it may have been a trap tailored for you or your family, or it may have been a diversion to keep some other secret from being found." She drinks her water. "Or it could be any of the above, from a century or a millennium ago. Although some of it seemed more recent."
Robin takes the sword gently from Signy and nods her thanks. She gently slides it back into the battered scabbard and reattaches scabbard and blade back to her belt.
At First's comments, Robin tips her head curiously. "Interesting. I just assumed... well, it seems like everywhere I go a mystery crops up. I have felt that it was just part of my Family Heritage to wander into trouble. And given that there were three of us there, it made sense to me that the trouble would be multiplied." Robin shrugs.
Vere nods at Robin's comments. "While one must always keep in mind the possibility that events are caused by hostile action, one must also remember that in the majority of cases they are not. Being open to the possibility of enemies at work is vital, but assuming that is the case will lead to error."
Brita nods with her cousins' assessments but adds, "Yet we Never Found Cabra's Ghost to Shed Light on the Situation."
"Ghosts are notoriously bad at conveying what you wish to know," says First, "but are usually very anxious to tell you what they wish you to know." A leaf from a nearby tree falls and she catches it, twirling it idly between her fingers. "They are also notoriously hard to find unless they want to find you. Why do ghosts want to find you?"
Robin laughs. "Ghosts? Usually because I'm standing next to Vere." She smiles warmly at her beloved, the medium. "Mysterious ruins? Troubling circumstances? Oddly relevant folks? Those just happen when I'm traveling around."
First nods, not necessarily in agreement, but to show that she's heard Robin's reaction.
"My mother was the Priestess Queen of the realm where I was born and raised," Vere explains to First. "And I was trained, due to natural ability, as a psychopomp. Spirits with unfinished business occasionally seek my aid, and I can call them up, if conditions are correct." His lips twitch in a small smile. "This seems to go with a certain natural predilection for visions of other sorts as well, which may be how my hereditary ability would naturally manifest were it not for said training."
"That would be fascinating training to hear about, Prince Vere," replies the Moonrider.
Signy gives one last glance at the sword. "I'd be curious to know how it works against things other than stone -- does it perform the same with iron or steel...." Her voice trails off.
"A sword that could cut stone could make short work of stonework defenses." First looks at the garden walls. "Or cliffs."
Signy's eyes involuntarily flick over to First, before she glances down at a plate on her lap that is somehow empty again. "Do we know whose ghost that it was?"
First lets Vere answer this. She certainly doesn't know.
"Something was there on the island," Vere answers. "I felt its presence. But I was never able to definitely locate either where they died or were buried, either of which would have aided me in speaking with it. I was assuming it was the keeper, although that speculation is purely circumstantial."
Signy sneaks a glance at the plates of the others, gauging how much they may have left. "It might be worth seeing if the King's free -- he was working on breakfast, and right as he's finishing up would be a good time to get him before he gets pulled into something else....."
With any luck, once the group starts to move again she'll be able to start spreading the word about the upcoming meeting.
First puts her plate aside and sets her glass atop it.
Brita nods at Signy's pronouncement and rises from the bench. "To The King, then," she states. "Informal, Respectfully." Her gaze sweeps the rest for a quick acknowledgement of concurrence before she gestures to Signy to lead the way, noting with a wink, "We Might be able to Catch some More Food if we are Swift."
Vere rises from the table as well, and retrieves the cart with the chest.
Robin gets herself and her firelizards together and stands to join the rest.
Last modified: 9 November 2020