Soren holds on as Folly runs across the room. When she grabs the king, he pulls on her arm and Folly, Random, and Soren fall backwards into a heap.
Folly moves just as much as she needs to in order to ensure they're not crushing Soren under the pile. She still has her arms wrapped around Syd from behind; and having heard the scream he let out before they came through the contact, she's trying to soothe him as best she can -- murmuring, "It's okay, we've got you, you're safe," -- while trying to get a sense of his current state.
Random is breathing heavily, and sweating. His pupils are dilated, but he doesn't seem drugged. He's not fighting, which is good considering his strength. "The queen", he says.
"... can wait, Syd. Gig's in five and you're not dressed," says Soren, "we need you in the now, Syd."
Folly gives Soren a little nod. He's been coming here with the king in disguise, so she's following his lead on how Syd should be dressing, if that's what he's going for here.
Tjaden is doing vocal warmups with Haven, and somehow Ashe has found a four string resonator bass guitar. He fits the stereotype of the laconic bass player, and he will until he hits the stage.
Random looks into Folly's eyes. It's like he's two places at once, and one of them isn't that good.
Folly meets his gaze. "We've got you," she says again, gently. "Breathe. Stay with us." She loosens his shirt, perhaps under the pretense of helping him get changed, but pauses when it's about half undone to lay a hand lightly over his heart, feeling his heartbeat. Her fingertips apply a gentle, rhythmic pressure -- his rhythm, the heartbeat she remembers.
His heart is too slow but it's speeding up. "Wait, wait a sec. Gig? Now? Who set up my kit? Oh fuck, Daniels, did you get the toms in the right order?"
"Rental kit, my brother, you're gonna have to use your brain."
"I'm not starting that now. Where's my stick bag?" -- He reaches down and laces his hands into Folly's and speaks softly. "Easy there, Kitten, I have to be able to sit on the drum throne." Syd looks around, not recognizing the place. "New club, rented gear, I don't remember soundcheck and I feel like shit. What the hell happened?"
He's swearing like he's back in Texorami, at least.
Folly smiles, relieved, although she knows better than to think they're out of the woods yet. "We'll talk more about it after the gig, but basically...." Her smile tightens. "Someone essentially tried to roofie you. Or got you under some heinously bad shit, anyway. Bad enough that we were worried -- you've been pretty out of it for a while, but you're starting to sound better." She smooths his hair away from his face and kisses his forehead. "Are you okay to stand up? Soren's got the set list, and maybe also a change of clothes for you...." She glances in Soren's direction and then stands to offer Syd a hand up, or something to lean on, if he needs it.
"I feel sick, stupid, and other things that start with 'S'. Whatever hit me was real, which probably means it's dangerous. This is like the opposite of a good birthday surprise, Kit."
"Up!, Stand like a lead singer!" orders Soren and Syd stands up and holds his arms out. Soren throws a shirt on him. "Tjaden?" he asks. She looks over from her warmups. It's a very busy and very small backstage and Folly thinks that may be on purpose.
"Cut the sleeves off and use them as a sash. He'll just rip through them when he plays anyway."
Soren nods and Haven holds out a pair of scissors. "Don't move, your m- Don't move your arms, or I'll cut 'em."
Ash comes over. "Syd, I want to do that thing we tried on Demented. You good for it? And stop trying to be pretty, it's not gonna work."
"Says the king of hair product," Syd replies.
Ash grins wolfishly and runs a hand through his hair, in a way that strikes Folly as either mimicry or just what guys like her guys do. "Anyway, the club owner here is a smokin' redhead and she's definitely my type, so you can leave the charm to me."
"Band huddle!," calls Soren. "New club, new town, let's come in hot and give 'em blood thunder."
He looks to Folly. It's not usually her turn next, but apparently this time it is.
Folly toes off her boots and nudges them into as out-of-the-way a spot as she can find in the small backstage area. It's always been her preference to perform barefoot, to feel the music with her whole body and connect with the beat of the drums and the movement of her fellow musicians in the vibrations of the stage through the soles of her feet. Now, she's also feeling the faint but unmistakable beat of Xanadu -- and she'll do what she can to nudge it back into the properrhythm.
She's already bouncing on her toes a little, settling into the tempo of their opening number, as she moves in to join the huddle. "It's been a rough couple of days, but we've got this," she says, "because we've got each other. Stay sharp and stay connected -- but if we hit a snag, don't worry. I've got you. They won't know what hit 'em." Her voice is steady and rhythmic.
As she moves to wrap her arms around her bandmates, her hand brushes the lump in her dress pocket. She purses her lips, thinking. "I also, apparently, have a good-luck gift from someone calling himself the 'King of Paris'." She pulls out the little bag and carefully opens it.
Folly pulls out a large ruby in a simple setting on a thick chain. Haven's jaw drops. Tjaden almost loses her flute.
"Holy Shit," says Ash, summing things up for the entire band.
"You've got that right," Folly says. Her eyes are wide. She looks at Syd, to see how or whether he's reacting to the presence of the Jewel.
Then she looks at Soren. "King of Paris also warned me to beware if he shows uphere with his sword out -- not a euphemism. If I have a play on him and can grab him and disappear, count to ten and then call me, while the rest of you get him" -- she tilts her head at Syd -- "away to safety. Otherwise we'll play it by ear, as usual."
Syd stares at the jewel. "That's ... not supposed to be here." He's fallen back a bit into the trance-like state, and he seems to be struggling. "V--" he says, and just drifts off.
Soren shrugs. "I'm gonna get thrown into a plant again, I can feel it."
Ash laughs. "Bro, I walked here. At least you got tossed in." He's looking at Syd, and worried that they're losing momentum. "You gonna be able to count us in? Time to get the fuck out there."
Folly nods, shoves the stone back into its pouch and into her pocket, and slides an arm around Syd. She's still bouncing a little on her toes, setting tempo and rhythm. "Hey, you still with us? We've got a show to do. Stay focused. Stay with us. I've got you." She motions to the rest of the band to join the huddle, just for a moment, to try to get Syd engaged again. Her fingertips tap a heartbeat pulse against his back.
If they can get him to snap even halfway out of his stupor, she gives the nod for them to take the stage.
Syd reaches out towards the Jewel but stops when Folly puts it in her pocket. "Lir, it's like I'm being pulled apart." He takes a deep breath, and then another. "Did you even look at the setlist, Bro? Daniels counts us in for Demented. Why's it so damn cold here anyway?"
As soon as he says that, the temperature starts to rise. It's nearly new year's and it was a foggy night earlier, but it's starting to feel downright warm. The stone in Folly's pocket warms slightly as well.
He shakes his head and runs his fingers through his hair, rearranging the unkemptness rather than making it neater. He looks down at the shirt he's half-wearing and undoes the few ties that are are still done, or as well as he can while he's leaning on Folly. She's convinced that the shirt won't make it through the first half of the setlist. "Bloodthunder. Let's go."
As Folly gives the band-huddle a final good-luck squeeze, she feels a familiar prickle up her spine, the electricity of connection: to this band that is closer to her than family, to their music, to Syd. She still has her arm around him as they take the stage, but it's not really her show. It's their show -- the whole band -- and she trusts them all. She just has to pay attention and stay connected and be ready to throw a lifeline if anyone else falters. Just like always.
As Soren and Syd get situated for the double-drumming intro, Folly spares a glance at the audience, although -- except for the fact of there being an audience to play for -- they are almost immaterial to their purpose here.
She has to hand it to Soren: His choice of opener is brilliant. They've got that complicated drum bit at the beginning, and then the bass drops in, and the rest builds from there -- time for them all to settle into the rhythm and figure out how to adjust if needed, while keeping Syd in the game from the very start. Folly situates herself a little behind and to the side of the drums -- keeping the spotlight on the rhythm section until the vocals come in, and also staying within a step of being able to get to Syd if needed.
She gives Soren the nod that she's ready when he is; he can see that she's still moving to the music, even though it hasn't started yet.
Soren counts them in, 5/4 makes sense when you're singing about a demented garden where if you stop moving you become one of the plants. For all that Folly knows she wrote this song, somehow it's about walking the pattern, right down to the discovery that if just press on through veils of light, you'll find the gardener is yourself.
Syd is playing, but he's not really improvising or leading like he should be. Nothing is missing but the spark. It's not off, but it's not re-write the universe good. Soren looks over at Folly and gives her the sign for "off-setlist? What next?"
She nods, gives the sign to skip to the sixth song on the setlist, and mouths, 'Inevitable' -- which has always been about finding the one that suddenly makes everything else click into place, and the ecstatic feeling of realness that goes along with it; but now it's somehow also about an actual new reality.
And if they do it right, it will also be about getting Syd to connect with it again.
It's never been unusual for Folly to be flirty with her bandmates on stage, as the mood of the music moves her, so it's not too surprising when she goes to stand behind Syd and a little to his right, close enough to touch, easy for him to see, but out of the way of his dominant hand so she doesn't interfere with his patterns. She rests the heel of her hand on his shoulder so that her fingertips hit just below his collarbone and lightly taps out the heartbeat rhythm that is the foundation of the piece.
"How does that feel?" she asks. She's probably asking about the tempo. There's an almost-equal chance she's also asking about several other things at once.
He moans, matching the rhythm and incorporating it into his pattern. "It feels like air to a drowning man. Everything seems real and yet not at the same time. There's things I half-remember, and things I think I would be really angry about if I remembered them, but I don't." He hits a strong fill, keeping the kick drum pounding out a low note, with the high-hat riding the beat.
"My leading theory is that I'm dying, and y'all are my subconscious mind's way of trying to motivate me." Without missing a beat, he reaches back and pulls her arm around his chest. "You feel real, you smell real, but I'm not sure which way is up."
"We are real," Folly murmurs against his ear, "and we're the way up, and out. Or we're trying to be." She kisses his temple. "You're about half-right: I don't think you're dying, but someone has seriously messed with your mind. We're trying to wake you up and get you re-connected to your body." She's leaning lightly against his back to reach around him; he can feel her breathing in tempo with the steady rhythm of her fingers, but her heart is running a little fast, the way it always does when she's this close to him.
She nuzzles his ear and asks, "What does your gut tell you you need?"
"You not to miss your cue in six measures. You. Me. Us, all of us." While he says that, he doesn't let her go, and keeps playing with just one arm, the other holds her tight to his back. The jewel is pulsing in her pocket, along with her heartbeat, and it seems like everything is slowing down and there's just the two of them in the now, and they're not even really separate beings except superficially and the whole city is an extension of themselves.
Folly smiles and closes her eyes. Opens them.
Four.
Three.
Two.
Deep breath....
"You came from a million miles away
But though you tried to go astray
The paths you take will always lead you here.We were born a universe apart
But I know deep in my heart
The place where I belong is with you here and now.Inevitable
The missing piece you didn't know was lost until you found it
And every other thing just seems to click in place around it
It may sound mad, but in our defense
It's the one thing that suddenly made everything make sense."
Folly is leaning hard on Syd -- or maybe in him, or vice versa, it's hard to tell at the moment -- as they hit the instrumental bridge between the two verses. The music, the city, the jewel, are all vibrating in her, shaping the lyrics to tell their own story in four...
Three...
Two...
Deep breath....
"You built a castle by the sand
At first I didn't understand
But now I know this place was made for usSo with this family of choice
I stand with you and lift my voice
Even the land itself will join the chorus --Inevitable
A ruby on the horn becomes a castle on a hill
We took the long way round, but know that we are with you still
It's all quite mad, but in our defense
It's the only thing that suddenly makes everything make sense."
Folly's face is damp with sweat, or maybe tears, and she's holding tight to Syd like she never wants to let go.
Syd hands Folly the drumsticks and stands beside the drum throne.
You saw my raise, you turned the cards
You backed the play, you played the chords
And the sounds of two voices make a whole new world in song --Inevitable
The patterned maze of all our lives must lead into the center
Through a doorway to a new world with a sign that beckons 'Enter'.
It sounds quite mad but in our defence
It's the thing that suddenly made everything make sense.
Syd drops down to the seat. He's shirtless, and she's not sure when he lost it, but it's usually gone by song six anyway.
Folly is not and will never be the drummer Syd is, but she's managed to get one foot on the bass drum pedal to continue the heartbeat pulse, sparse but effective under his verse. As he drops to the seat, she adds the coda,
"It's the thing that suddenly made everything make sense. We're here at last, and everything makes sense."
As the music fades, she lays a hand over his heart and looks deep into his eyes. "Better?" she asks.
"Waves, Kitten. I've caught a breath but the next one is out there. You're a lifeline, but I'm still in the ocean. I was trying to rescue one brother when I left and ended up rescuing a different one. He'd lost his memory. This ... isn't that. It's more like someone's holding a rag with chloroform over my mouth."
Syd looks angry, but not at her. He hits the drums for the start of the next song, but it's one of their old standby covers from the first days of the band. It's also unusual in that Ash sings lead. "Somebody Put Something in my Drink," the guitarist growls, accusatively. It's the kind of song that Soren probably recorded somehow but has never released the tapes.
"I can't stay angry and I'm afraid to come down and I feel like a time bomb," he tells her. "I can't just be OK when I'm playing."
Folly strokes his hair. Takes a deep breath, and breathes it out slowly. "There's... there's another thing we could try. We think... I think... it might help counteract what was done to you." Her fingers tangle into the hair at the nape of his neck, and then trace a light line down and back up his spine.
Soren is playing the drums and Tjaden is singing. They've switched to the part of the setlist that lets 'Plan B' happen. It has the old feeling of bloodthunder, bathing in her ears, her feet, all through her body.
Despite it being nearly the new year, the stage is hot and Syd is sweating. He shivers at her touch and leans into it. "We'll cross a lot of lines, Kit. I just can't think straight but if I don't do something I don't know what will happen." His heart is beating just as fast as hers, in time with all of Xanadu. He turns to face her and puts his forehead to hers. "But here's the thing. I don't think what you're trying will work if it's not because you want to. We have a fundamental connection that can't be undone or we don't. I'll never ask you to let go of other people you love, I won't make you choose. I know you know all this, I can feel it, but it's cards on the table time."
Folly's breath catches in her throat; she gives a little nod. "I know there will be consequences, and some of them will be messy, and a few of them may be painful. But... this isn't just me trying to make some noble sacrifice for the good of the realm, y'know?"
She touches his face, traces a line along his jaw. "Cards on the table: When you went away, it was like losing a limb, Or a lung; I couldn't breathe. I felt like a pebble in love with a mountain, or the moon, and I tried to convince myself that the light wasn't really meant for me anyway so that maybe the darkness wouldn't hurt so much. But now... now you're etched in every cell of my being, and I'm not a pebble, I'm the ocean, or the sky -- and I just... I want us to be whole again."
"You don't have small goals, Kitten," he says. The two of them are breathing in sync, and the music is still playing, but it's not what either of them is concentrating on. "You never asked, but I'd figured out you all were a lost line of the family by the time I left, which wasn't my first guess. I couldn't bring you with me because I couldn't protect you and I couldn't bring myself to tell you that I was either going out of town for the weekend or into a deathtrap that already took my smarter, stronger brother.
"I just left and hoped I'd be gone for a weekend and back before you knew it. I didn't mean to lose your lung. I just haven't been able to make it right. I've missed us, and regretted how I lost us, for years." He leans in to kiss her and it's getting hard to think.
Folly breathes out an involuntary moan and lays her fingertips against his mouth. Her eyes are wide. "Before we... There's one more... We gotta..." She shakes her head minutely, trying to regain enough clarity to focus on that other important thing she's supposed to do. She takes his hands and stumbles, half-blind with desire, toward the backstage area, letting her instincts guide her someplace a little safer, a little more private.
When she finds it, she turns to face Syd. Words are coming out, but she's not sure anymore how much sense she's making. "Your brothers... Corwin and... and the other one, Bleys..." As she speaks, she pulls her dress off over her head in one fluid motion and lets it flutter to the floor, so that she's left facing him in her sweat-damp lacy underthings, holding a black pouch. "They gave me your rock... jewel... thing... because they thought we needed it."
She reaches out and pulls him to her with her free hand, presses her bare skin against his, while her other hand fumbles with the bag, working it open. "You know... to try to... fix..."
The bag falls away and she laces her fingers through his. The jewel dangles from its chain between their clasped palms. She looks up at him, a question in her eyes.
He breathes heavily and looks at her and the jewel and tries to bring himself to make some kind of sense. His hands are moving in circles, as if he can't stand not touching her, feeling her hands slide along his. They're so close and only touching hands, but it's the bloodthunder they always tried for on stage.
"OK, that. If I take you into that, it might make you stronger and you could fight our many enemies better. But it would make you make a pattern, and a pattern would make a city, and it would move away from me and Xanadu and we'd be tied forever, but also apart forever. I think. Maybe it's the right thing, and maybe I'm selfish for not wanting it, and maybe I'm too stupid or drugged or under her spell to figure out it's a good thing, but it seems like the wrong way." He must be between waves right now, because ten minutes ago, he didn't even remember Vialle or her spells. He keeps hold of her hands and lets his fingers move against hers.
"I guess I did grow up some in Texorami, and maybe later, too. And I know it's not my decision to make, and I'm not going to deny it if you tell me you need it. I get why my brothers gave it to you, but I don't need it for me. I'd rather wrap that up in our discarded clothes and find it twelve or fifteen hours from now when we're ready to go find lunch. But if you need it for you, we can do it."
"No," Folly says emphatically. "That's... the opposite of what I want. Xanadu is mine--- is my home. If I'm making another one, it's because... something is so wrong that's the only way to fix it."
She picks up the bag from the floor with her toes so she doesn't have to let go of him, and tucks the jewel back inside. "Corwin said... not to let it do too much. That would be too much. I think maybe it already did its thing, though, while we were singing, and it was in my pocket all---" her fingertips pulse against his in a familiar heartbeat rhythm, and she takes a half-step forward "---like a metaphysical sex toy, and you were... and we were---"
She closes the remaining distance between them and kisses him.
He returns the kiss, his focus entirely on her. He holds it for a long, long time, just revelling in finally getting to hold her, touch her, be one with her. "That's... been too long. I can't promise I won't screw up again, probably the opposite. I'm not gonna tell you I did everything to protect you, because I know I did a lot because I was scared, but I did hear you earlier. I've heard a lot, maybe more than you think. And if you ever wondered why Xanadu seems like it was made for you, stop wondering. Cards on the table, I'd be a fool and an idiot if I didn't tell you how I feel, regardless of what happens next, I love you."
Folly, misty-eyed, breathes his name and kisses him again, deeply. "I'm sorry I doubted," she murmurs, "--- that I was too much of a coward to trust the tiny spark in me that has always known. You know I love you, too --- so, so much..." And then her mouth and her hands and her body are moving with his, in time to his rhythm... their rhythm... the rhythm of Xanadu.
In the stillness as her rational mind re-connects to her body, Folly takes a quiet moment to listen -- to the heartbeat against her ear, to the rhythm of the city around them, to the music from the stage that... no, wait, that stopped a little while ago, didn't it? She blinks, stretches, tilts her head to smile at him through disheveled purple locks. Murmurs something indistinct. Tries again: "How are you feeling?"
She herself looks pretty blissed out, but he can still feel the concern behind her words.
His face lights up when he sees her and he's got this "I can't believe how lucky I am" look on his face. Random looks up at the ceiling while his hand reaches under the blanket and moves around in ways that would've caused Thelonius to pounce upon him in a regrettable way. "Still a bit fuzzy about what happened, but getting sharper all the time.
"Or maybe that's just my appetite."
"Which one?" Folly asks with a teasing grin. "Not that it matters so much; I think there's also food here."
For a moment she looks like she's considering pouncing on him again herself; but then she pushes herself up on her elbows and tries, only half-successfully, to shake the hair out of her face. "Let's see what we can rustle up -- 'cos unfortunately we do need to talk about what happened so we can figure out what to do next, and something tells me that's gonna be an 'all-you-can-eat breakfast foods' kind of conversation."
"I'm not sure they have all-I-can-eat," he says, reaching over and stroking her arm. "So, just walk out naked like we're King of the World and demand breakfast? Where are we, anyway? Xanadu, yes, I'm not that fuzzy. And what time is it?"
"Morning...ish?" Folly offers. "I, uh... kind of lost track of time there for a little while." She grins. "It may be late enough that we're about to miss that family breakfast that I think was supposed to happen today, but if it makes you feel any better I don't think anyone was planning to show up to it anyway."
She leans a little into his hand, cat-like. "We're at Scarlett's; I've never been here, but Soren says you come here for a drum circle. And Ash says Trick's here now, running the bar. All of which raises the very important question... is there anyone here that hasn't already seen you naked?" Her eyes twinkle with amusement and affection.
"We'll get Ossian to make a statue, so that no one has to be bereft." He pauses. "And if people touch it, it will cure scrofula." His sigh is huge and theatrical and very familiar. "Right, no food unless we get out of bed, whose idea was that?" He throws the covers off and some distance away and Folly feels the chill of the upcoming midwinter's night. "The good thing about putting clothes on, is that you get to take them off again later." He looks around at the space, including the mirror. "You know, this combination bar/brothel has bedrooms, which we could borrow instead of backstage."
"Yeah, ah, it's entirely possible that was the original idea. I just didn't quite make it that far." Folly shivers at the chill, sits up to try to locate her clothes, catches a glimpse of the two of them in the mirror. and bursts out laughing as she sees the consequence of having rolled around naked on one or more surfaces of a backstage dressing area: they are both dotted here and there with tiny bits of glitter, probably shed from a previous performer's costume or body paint. It makes the occasional rainbow flash as they move. "It's like we've been blessed by a unicorn!" she exclaims -- then adds in a weirdly reverent tone, "Well, I guess she did kind of tell us to make love, not war..."
"I probably need a notebook for all the questions I've got to ask you. The version in my head didn't have 'ask about the Unicorn' at all." Random finds a big handful of glitter and blows it into the air like a snow-globe. "This stuff is ridiculous." He puts on the remains of his shirt and reaches deep into the couch and pulls out a pair of bright yellow boxers with a print of a monkey playing the bongos on them. "Speaking of ridiculous..." he says, pulling them on, grinning. "I've got ridiculous luck!" Random runs his hand through his hair and it settles down, albeit somewhat begrudgingly.
He looks over at her not quite dressed, slightly glittered self and says "Last one in the kitchen has to do the dishes." He waits for her to move first, but the challenge has been thrown down.
Folly has located her dress, checked to make sure her trumps and that shiny piece of jewelry are still in its pockets, and then pulls it on over her head. She's also found her undergarments, but tucks those into her discarded boots for safekeeping. With a sparkle-eyed grin, she meets his gaze and replies, "Oh, but there are so many things I'd rather... do," because she can't quite stop herself.
And then she's off, trying not to giggle too madly as she intuits her way to the kitchen.
Syd is off at her heels. "At the same time? Sounds... complex." He's running after her, laughing, and reaching out for her as he corners. He's only gotten dressed as far as the boxers and the sleeveless-now-vest that was once his shirt, so it's probably a good thing no one is there to see them. "No winning!" he says, and puts his hand on her shoulder to help himself pass her.
Folly moves a little into his path like she's planning to hip check him if he draws even with her. Instead, though, she grabs his hand and pulls it off her shoulder, but doesn't let go. "Yes winning!" she retorts with a laugh, although she might not be talking about the race, exactly.
She knows she could never beat him in a fairly fought endurance race, but it's possible she can maintain a fraction of her narrow lead if the kitchen isn't too far away.
The idea of just letting him win doesn't even cross her mind.
She rounds what she thinks will be the last corner before the kitchen -- she can smell food now, at any rate -- at as fast a sprint as she can manage without crashing into him or the far wall.
Random doesn't let go of her hand and races along, not letting her get further ahead but not passing her, either. Just as they are about to reach the door, he trips and falls, pulling her down as well. He somehow tucks himself around her (it seems like that's what happens, in any case) and they roll into the kitchen together.
When the room stops spinning, Folly finds herself atop the prone Random, He's looking up at her as if she was the only woman in the world.
She's not even the only woman in the room, it turns out. "I'll go get Madame Scarlett," says the cook, backing out the other door. Syd just laughs.
"Yes, thank you, that would be lovely," Folly says brightly, as though having a civilized conversation from this position were the most natural thing in the world. She rolls slightly to the side to keep from flashing her lack-of-knickers at the departing woman.
Once the cook is out of sight, Folly drops a kiss on the end of Syd's nose and asks in a low voice, "How well do you trust the discretion of the staff here? I mean, not so much about---" she makes a gesture that could encapsulate any number of things about the two of them "---but some of the stuff we need to talk about butts up against 'state secret' territory. I'd hate for Martin to have to kill anyone over it."
She sounds like she's joking. Well, half-joking, anyway.
"Scarlett is Max and Raven's mother. These are her people. She's close to family, and really close to some family. But she's not family. So we either talk indirectly or we tell her to bring breakfast to the most private room she has.
"Or we go to Lord Ash's Official House of Officialdom." He pauses. "Not that that place is guaranteed to be free of glitter."
The door opens and Max comes in. He may have turned 8 in the years since Folly and Martin took Lark to San Lucien. "'Lo, Uncle Random." He is lugging a wagon full of firewood.
"Hey, Max. We need breakfast. Where do you keep it?"
Max looks around the kitchen, as if the answer is obvious. "Did you look on the breakfast tray?"
"Should we?", replies Random.
Max puts the firewood into the rack by the stove. "If you want breakfast, yeah." He finishes his chore. "I gotta go, I'm gonna be late for school. Bye, Uncle Random, Bye pretty lady!"
"Bye!" Folly says, waving. "Thanks for the tip about the breakfast tray!" She briefly considers reminding Max who she is -- he might not recognize her now that she's not so obviously pregnant -- but decides against it.
She stands and offers Random a hand up as she glances around the kitchen in search of the tray. "Maybe breakfast here, on the theory that they're better provisioned to feed an army or a royal on short notice, and then maybe to Ash's?" Folly chews her lip, thinking. "If we're really lucky, like bongo-monkey-boxers lucky, Soren will go there and remember he has my card and we can get there the easy and sneaky way. I wonder where they ended up, anyway..."
"I heard giggling at one point. I suspect it was an eventful night all around. They might've ended up all sorts of places, sequentially. Worst case, we can send Max or Trick with a message, like 'Very funny, where's our clothes?' and maybe that will remind Daniels."
"Yeah, that'd work." Folly smiles, sparkle-eyed. "I hope it was good for them, too. And if they're still around, maybe they'll also come looking for breakfast."
Random looks over the tray. It's hearty fare, with an emphasis on seafood, since Xanadu is a port town. Random takes the knife and starts cutting little bite-sized bits and feeding them to Folly. It manages to taste better than the component bread, fruit, and fish should.
"Okay, at a high level, anyone but me get attacked?"
Folly glances toward the door before answering. "Not in the same way, but those who've had prolonged proximity are most at risk... so your sister who's been traveling with you may be under the influence. She was certainly acting like it, from the brief glimpses I got. I only got home last night, though, so I don't know much more than that, but..."
Her lips press into a thin line; she lays a comforting hand on his arm. "We know what happened to Cambina now."
Random almost made a comment, but held off when she laid her hand on him. "How does Cambina tie in to all of this? That was before this all went to hell, wasn't it?"
"Yes," Folly says. All her euphoria of a few minutes ago has been replaced by a sort of grim determination. "It's bad. But that's a conversation that will have to wait until we are in very-very-private."
She offers him a sad smile, leans over to kiss his forehead, and then moves to begins rummaging in a nearby cabinet. "I don't want to steal their whole breakfast tray, but maybe we can..." She smiles as she finds what she's looking for and pulls out a large-ish basket. "...Take-out."
"If Ash doesn't have all the food we can eat at his place, I'll un-Lord him," says Random, packing more into the basket regardless. "This is gonna be a mess to untangle, isn't it?"
Scarlett opens the door and smiles when she sees the two of them. "Good morning, your majesty. Please, take all you want. Max told me you were in here. Can I help you find anything?"
"Good morning to you, Miss Scarlett. Do you have a clue where we might find some cheese to go with this?" Random, like Scarlett, completely ignores the fact that he's wearing half a shirt and a pair of boxers.
"In the cold-box next to the Lady Folly, my lord." Scarlett is well dressed, perhaps moreso than when Folly last saw her. She somehow looks younger, in the way that Brij did when Folly met her again. "I enjoyed the concert immensely," she says. "Lord Ash has sent someone around to ask for the band's fee, though."
Folly smirks in rueful affection as she steps aside to let Random search the fridge. "Yes, well, it's his way. We'll talk to him and remind him the venue was gracious enough to allow us the use of the space on very short notice. And then feed us breakfast. Thanks for all of that, by the way. A+++, would play again." She smiles, warmly. "You've obviously done very well for yourself here."
Under the pretense of reaching over to hold the icebox door open while he searches, she flashes a "ready?" band sign at Random, out of Scarlett's line of sight. She's not unwilling to engage in small-talk, but she's itching under the pressure of the big talk that needs to happen soon.
"We're being paid in cheese," adds Random, adding another small wheel to the improvised hamper.
"Tell the Lord Mayor that I would happily pay for entertainers like you at least once a month, but I'd like a little more warning to promote the performance." She pauses. "Your majesty," she adds. It can be hard to remember that Random isn't Syd Chance, bohemian drummer lad, even if you've never met Syd as Syd.
Folly gives her a little nod. "Luckily our next gig is less likely to be a spur-of-the-moment reunion concert."
"You ready to go? We can take this basket of 'payment' to our bandmates." Syd rummages around for a bit and finds two long hooded robes from a coatrack that was behind the door. They are bright red. "These'll help us be anonymous."
"Yeah, we'll blend right in." Folly looks amused. She takes one and ties a couple of small knots in the bottom corners so it'll be short enough.
He turns to Scarlett. "Thank you Madame Scarlett, we'll see what can be arranged for more gigs." Random opens the door to the main room, and looks for Ash's messenger. "Viper, take us to your boss," he says.
"Yes, your highness," says Viper, looking up from his conversation with Trick. Trick nods when he sees Folly and Random. It's as close to a gesture of friendship as he generally got.
Yesterday Random didn't recognize Viper.
Folly breathes a little sigh of relief at this new sign of recovery. For all that they worked out a lot of tensions during and after the gig, she's still holding onto a knot of worry about his well-being.
She blows a kiss at Trick and grins in obvious delight at seeing him. She decides to save any embarrassing attempts at full-body hugs for later, though. Then she turns her attention to following Viper -- although she does ask for a slight detour to retrieve her boots.
Trick is dispatched to get the boots and returns with them shortly. It wasn't that uncommon to find lost clothing in Trick's bar, but it was less common for it to belong to the finder...
"Rain's starting soon, should be pretty quiet out, let's go find our band," says Syd. It may take some effort to keep him from dramatically 'sneaking'.
Folly reflexively checks the contents of her pockets one more time and then discreetly pulls the wad of undergarments out of her boot and adds it to the pocket with the sex toy--- er, Jewel. (She'll never not think about in those other terms now, though; it makes too many things make too much sense.)
Her mood is still a bit subdued as they take to the streets, but she can't help but grin at Syd's antics. In the red robe, carrying the makeshift hamper as he sneaks through alleyways, he looks like Father Midwinter coming to brinig the gift of stinky cheeses to the poor.
It's even the right time of year, she realizes. Suddenly she's not so worried that someone might catch a glimpse of them. This seems like a fine, fine tradition to seed in this new realm, particularly the part about caring for the less fortunate.
She hums a holiday carol quietly as they go -- and when they arrive at their destination she can't resist announcing their arrival with a hearty "Ho ho ho!"
"If you're wearing your lacy unmentionables as a Father Midwinter beard, I'm going to lose it," says Random, just as the door opens up. Soren looks at the two of them, then closes his mouth and gestures them inside. Viper follows them in. "Everyone's still asleep," says Soren.
"I should hope so after the night they had. And for once I agree with you that we needed more rehearsal time."
Soren just nods.
"Next time," Folly says. "Next time will definitely be better-rehearsed. Although this one worked out okay, in the end." She gives Soren a long hug. "Thank you. I couldn't have done this without you."
She releases him and adds, "And now we've reached the fun part of the proceedings where we need somewhere safe and private to talk through some things, like figuring out just how exactly we came to need magical band sex in the first place, and what to do about it now." He can probably infer from the significant look she gives him that it will also include the message from Vere that they discussed last night. "But on the plus side, we brought breakfast!" She gestures expansively at Syd like a game show hostess showing off a fabulous prize. "Also our keen fashion sense."
Syd poses. "They'll be all the rage come the new year."
Soren thinks about the request and rummages through the breakfast hamper, finding himself a plum. "The machinery of government grinds itself around on the first floor of the house, and Ash is sleeping off his epic performance with his wives on the second. I'd say the Lord Mayor's office is your best bet. Viper, can you clear it out?"
Viper nods once and steps smartly off.
"He's better than we deserve. Did you know he's Trick's cousin? And he somehow ended up here before Trick did. I still don't get that about this place."
Random nods. "Yeah, Trick mentioned having family in town. Didn't know it was Ash's unofficial chief of police."
Soren takes the breakfast basket, but not before Random picks out a tropical fruit and a chunk of cheese. Viper shows them into the now empty office where Ash either works or pretends to work. Random leaps onto Ash's desk and spins down into a cross-legged imitation of a buddha statue.
"Alright, I get that the Cambina story isn't first on the 'things to do something about' list, but how was Vialle involved?"
With a sigh, Folly plops heavily into the desk chair, kicks off her boots again, and props her bare feet on the desk in front of him. Random takes her feet and pulls them into his lap, causing her to tilt back even further. "Okay. I'm going to try to start with the facts as we know them, without going into too much speculation, so you can maybe see how it fits with what you've observed and experienced. After that we can talk about my own gut reaction to it, which I'm already aware may sound kind of jealous-ex-girlfriend-y, and I apologize in advance if I completely lose it." She blows out another breath and wipes a hand over her face.
"So. This is from Vere, who wanted to tell you in person; when he couldn't, he shared it with a few of us last night, including Soren, and we agreed that whoever got to you first would deliver the news." She focuses into the middle distance as she recalls the details as Vere shared them. "You might recall you gave him permission to visit Tir, probably at the last full moon, on an errand for Caine. While he was there, he encountered a masked woman who seemed more real than the other Tir ghosts. She led him to the pattern chamber there and revealed herself as Cambina. Or, Cambina's ghost." She looks at Random. "Like, her actual ghost, I think, not in the 'Tir ghost' sense. She said Vialle had requested that she come with her to Tir, and Cambina agreed, both because she'd foreseen herself doing so and because Vialle told her she'd make the trip alone if she didn't. They got there, and the Queen of Air and Darkness appeared and held Cambina trapped in place while Vialle walked the Pattern." Folly hesitates -- at least in part to see his reaction to that bit of news, but maybe also because the next bit is hard to say.
"And then Vialle finished the walk as dawn came, and Cambina fell to her death and has been trapped as a spirit in Tir, hiding from the queen, ever since." Her jaw tightens. "And meanwhile, Vialle is now pregnant and you've been under the influence of something that almost forced us all to swear fealty to her unborn child---"
She holds up her hands, palms out, to stop herself and give Random a chance to respond. And maybe give herself a chance to keep her composure, which from the look on her face is in danger of slipping.
"That far back? That's disturbing. Maybe she never got rescued from being kidnapped at all. Wait, that was after Cambina died." He thinks for a moment, trying to put his thoughts in order.
"OK, so some sort of bargain or switch, followed by a dormant period while we don't suspect her, and then increasing pressure on me until she gets to where she's got the ability to control some things. I get her pregnant and then things start to get really weird."
Folly nods, her expression inscrutable. She's watching him closely.
"I think I owe a lot of people apologies." He's still petting her feet, but his body language is neither apologetic nor calm.
Her toes move against his wrist in a way that is probably meant to be soothing, but he can feel her tension. "If so, I daresay you're not the only one." She takes a couple of deep, slow breaths before continuing. "When I heard she was pregnant, literally my very first question -- which I only barely kept myself from asking out loud -- was, 'Is it his?'"
She smiles ruefully and looks up at him with dark, dark eyes. "I'm trying to separate my biases from my intuition. So I'm telling the story a little bit out of order, but I think maybe it's important to tell you this part next: When I went to king-nap you, I snuck in through what should be the nursery in your suite. It's got furniture in it, nursery furniture, but very crude. And I don't mean crude like 'we don't want anything fancy,' I mean crude like carved by an alien who'd heard stories about babies but had never actually seen one. And there were these...." -- she makes a gesture like she's tracing a circle on the ground in her mind -- "...sigil-looking things on the floor. And I felt... It was like a complete absence of you. Even though you were just in the next room." Her eyes are wide at the horror of the memory.
"So this whole thing slides from 'not so bad' to 'really frickin' bad' and does so pretty fluidly, doesn't it? Six months ago, about when Xanadu started really going well, Vialle is starting to think I don't need her politically like I did in Amber. And, yeah, fair enough, the role of 'the woman who made him settle down and be a good king' wasn't really ever going to fly in Xanadu like it had in Amber. I'm getting tired of it, myself, because it changed from 'helpful and useful' to 'harmful and damaging'."
He blows a strand of hair off his face and shakes his head, completely failing to do more than rearrange the untidiness of his hair. Random needs a haircut, or perhaps a braiding. "So, it's not completely unsubtle, but it does come across as 'it's a good thing I'm here to temper your impulsiveness', which in Amber would've helped with Eric's court and probably Dad's as well. She played that hand hard. Overplayed it, eventually. She didn't want me going in to town to play drums, and a bunch of other things." He doesn't expand on that point.
"I'd suggested that she might retire to Rebma and that didn't go over well at all, and she decided that she wanted a child to keep me from putting her away, but I wasn't participating. Which is a long way of saying 'I believe she might've made a deal with the Queen of Air and Darkness.' " Syd has more to say, but breaks at that point to take a drink from the pitcher of water Ash had beside his desk. He dips his finger into the water, and traces pattern fragments on her exposed ankle.
Folly opens her mouth to reply, but stops at his touch and concentrates on the feel of his finger against her skin. This isn't the first time he's done that -- but last time, years ago, she didn't know what it meant, only that it smouldered like fire in her blood. It still does; but now she understands, even more now than she did even a few hours ago, and she draws strength from it.
"If it makes you feel any better, I think Martin agrees with you," she says. "I've been trying my damnedest to give her the benefit of the doubt in spite of everything, but." She makes a broad, all-encompassing sort of gesture. Then hesitates, as if she's picking her next words carefully.
"I... can't really think of a gentle way to say this, except to remind you that I love you and let you know that if the child she carries is yours I will love and defend it. But it might be... not, exactly, even if it was made from part of you. I'm not sure any of us could answer that with complete accuracy at this point, although I have a really horrifying guess." She shakes her head minutely. "I did talk Martin out of his suggestion for how to deal with it, though." From the look on her face, Folly suspects Syd can guess at least the rough outlines of that plan. She also has more to say, or to ask, but she pauses to give him a chance to respond.
"King isn't a gentle job. You've got to make decisions that will hurt people, sometimes innocent, sometimes not. Sometimes you don't even know, but you have to decide now or it'll be worse. And you let down friends for the good of the state, and you do a lot of other lousy things, but when you're king, you do them, because if not you, then there's nobody else to fix things."
He keeps tracing the pattern on her, and she's not sure if he knows he's doing it. "Let's say the word, which is 'treason'. I'm pretty comfortable saying that treason happened. But then we get into the difficult questions. Who's responsible? How far does the damage run? What should we do about it? And realistically, what can we do about it?" He slows, tracing the grand curve and the first veil. "Honestly, if our enemy is the Queen of Air and Darkness, then she's older the Benedict and I don't see what we can do about her. It's not as simple as execution with a silver sword befitting her royal rank."
"Well," Folly answers slowly, "while I don't have an immediate answer for that, I think it's time to loop back and tell the middle part of the story, which happened last night."
She thinks a moment, sorting out the most relevant details. "A bunch of us agreed to meet in the Grove of the Unicorn to talk through our options -- who needed to get safely out of Xanadu and avoid that family conclave that was supposed to happen today, who" -- she raises her hand -- "needed to stay here and try to figure out some way to fix it. But as we were assembling, we got word of Moonriders spotted near the base of the stairs to Tir, seeking passage up -- even though the moon was too far past full for the stairs to be visible. About half the group went immediately there, while the rest of us stayed behind in the Grove. And then... then... the Unicorn appeared to us, just briefly, and then ran off toward the stair." Her eyes are bright at the memory. "Martin and I followed, and got there just in time to see her step into the midst of a duel between Conner and a Moonrider who named herself First to the Fray. The Unicorn put her horn on their crossed swords, and the Moonrider seemed to take that as a sign just as much as we did, and sort of... ceremonially conceded the fight and offered herself as a hostage. Brita and Vere volunteered to watch over her."
She looks up at him, thoughtfully. "Which still doesn't tell you what to do about her, but does give a possible path to options that might not otherwise have occurred to us. I don't know how much this First knows about what's been happening here, but I'd at least be interested to find out what Vere thinks of her trustworthiness."
Random looks concerned, then surprised. "Well, a captive Moonrider is either the nicest present Father Winter ever brought me, or a Trojan Horse. Are we sure she's not full of Trojans? It's not like she and they are an unrelated problem, but it's not where I expected this conversation to go.
"OK, so who's where? Is Vialle in charge up in the palace?" He pauses, briefly, and adds a second question before she can reply. "If I marched up there and ordered her arrest would the palace guard follow my orders?"
"While I don't know for certain, the impression I got is that the castle staff are wary of what's going on with Vialle and would probably assist any of us opposing her. One of the servants gave me a silent warning about her whereabouts when I was sneaking around back-of-house to come find you. It's possible the Queen may have tried to control some of them, particularly those close to her or likely to be useful to her aims, but I didn't encounter any evidence of that in my brief time there." It's probably clear to Random that she's not using 'Queen' to refer to Vialle, precisely.
"As for who's in charge..." Carefully, without pulling her feet out of his lap, Folly shifts in her chair so she can slide her card case out of her pocket, and cups it between her hands. "Martin and Edan were providing a distraction of some kind while I grabbed you, which I'm only not freaking out about because I'm pretty sure if anything horrible had happened to Martin here in Xanadu I would have felt it. Even as... ah... otherwise-occupied as I've been." She gives Random a little smile. "We can try calling him, when you're ready, to find out their status."
Random smiles back. "The more we know, the more we'll know. Let's ask him what happened after you dragged me into the band huddle."
Folly nods, thumbs open the case, pulls out the top card, and concentrates.
"It always takes a minute for him to answer..."
But one minute goes by, then two. Three.
She shakes her head. "Otherwise engaged, I think," she says. She only sounds a little bit worried. "Like, sleeping or hellriding unreachable." She tucks the card back into the case and closes her eyes for a moment, listening, feeling. "I dunno, maybe it's because you're right here, but Xanadu... everything... feels okay..
She opens her eyes again and looks up at him. "Your lucky bongo monkey boxers didn't also come with trumps, did they? Because I've got others, but I don't think any of the subjects are in the castle or even Xanadu, for the most part. Or we can wait and try Martin again a little later."
"I'm sure they're fine," he says, sure of no such thing. "We probably need to send someone up to the castle to see what's going on. Or mount up with Edan's troops and ride up ourselves. We can wear the red cloaks."
"Yes," Folly agrees with a grin, "which will have the added advantage that anyone who sees you so attired will pretty much immediately know you're no longer under her influence." More seriously, she adds, "Much as I would prefer to hide out here in the quiet for as long as we can, I'm loath to send any of our people into possible danger, if things at the castle are worse than they seem to be."
"No one should've assumed I was OK when I didn't wear a bright red cloak. It was a cry for help. I think I'll ask Edan to incorporate it into the Order of the Red Light. I may need to make a new order for those who rescued me from this particular danger. Order of the G String, perhaps?" Random still hadn't moved and didn't seem inclined to. "Do you think we need to go right away or should we wait for Ash and the girls to wake up?" He grins.
"I dunno, how big do you think their tub is?" she asks, eyes twinkling.
"I do have another serious-ish question for you, though," she adds. "Before the brief speech you may or may not remember giving last night, word was that you and Vialle had gone to Rebma, accompanied by Fiona. Do you remember anything about where you were and what you did?"
He frowns. "Some things disappear into the murky depths. I recall saying we'd go. I recall going to Paris, except somehow it seemed reasonable not the tell Corwin, and to just go to the outskirts and then down the tunnel. I recall stopping for the night about halfway down. I'm pretty sure Fiona was there. Or maybe we met her in Rebma. I really don't recall much after that.
"Why, what did they say about it here?"
"Only that you'd gone to Rebma -- without a lot of advance notice, I think -- and Bleys mentioned Fiona had gone with Vialle to look after her safety, at your request, but that while there she discovered you were under some kind of enchantment." Folly chews her lip, thinking. "Edan said you seemed yourself when he and Vere asked permission for their Tir excursion, which made me wonder if the trip was for the purpose of getting you away from the protection of Xanadu to put the whammy on you."
She takes another moment to consider his question. "I can't quite decide what I think Fiona's up to. Her brother made some terrible choices trying to solve the 'problem of Tir', so it's not lost on me that she could be looking for another way to do the same thing. On the other hand, Bleys -- who knew you were under an enchantment that couldn't be broken by Pattern methods -- seemed genuinely surprised when I named the foe. And I know Fiona had been working with Vialle for a while trying to figure out the cause of those headaches and bad dreams she was having. But it's also possible she started out trying in good faith to help but fell under the Queen's sway somewhere along the way. Or pretended to, so she could stay close enough to figure out what to do about it. And Bleys's surprise could just have been his poker face, except that Corwin said he's the one that suggested giving me the Jewel."
She chews her lip, thinking. "I lean toward trusting that Bleys is mostly on the up-and-up, but I think we need more information to figure out where Fiona stands in all this. But speaking of newbies..." Her hand reflexively touches the pocket holding her trump case. "I'm adding Celina to the list of people to call. She may be able to find out where in Rebma you actually went, which could be helpful. And I trust her to share what she's able, for the common good of both realms."
"I like her, too. Being monarch of a pattern-realm is weird, though. Not only can't she be unless is Moins, Khela couldn't be and neither could Moire." He taps a quick tattoo on her ankle.
"Which, like I said, I'm in grad school with no advisor, so something I said just there is wrong. Moire was Queen of Rebma since before I was born and seemed to be in no ways less of a Queen than Dad. Anyway, I don't want to call anyone else until we get topside. I don't want the answer to the question 'how's it going, then?' to be 'dunno'."
Folly nods her agreement.
"We'll have to put off round two until after we march triumphantly into the throne room. Ready to go? I bet there's still leftovers when we get there."
Folly slides her feet reluctantly out of Random's lap, but perks up at the mention of leftovers. "Okay, but before we go... hold still a minute..." She climbs up on the desk beside and a little behind him and runs her fingers through his hair a few times, then deftly twists a few strands on each side into small braids -- just enough to keep it from flopping constantly into his face without over-taming its tousled insouciance. In a drawer of the desk she finds a small red ribbon that probably originally came tied around a stack of papers and uses it to tie off the braids behind his head.
"Pretty," she says as she admires her handiwork, and the head it's attached to. "Now you're ready for some triumphant kinging. Shall we?"
"We shall!"
Last modified: 7 January 2020