The rest passes uneventfully as far as Edan knows, though he has strange and unpleasant dreams. Martin shakes him awake a while later.
Edan's waking is difficult, as his dreams are full of fire. "What happened? Is everything all right?" Then he seems to get his bearings.
"Yeah, everything's fine. She's complained a lot at me but she's acting like Vialle. I'm used to her moaning and pissing," Martin says, with a roll of his eyes. He pushes some nonexistent hair out of his face. "She's probably going to talk about how I hated her in Rebma and how we used to be a thing, a long time ago, before Dad. I don't know if you knew that, but it's true. I think Moire picked her to keep me and Dad apart. She's going to try to use that to make you let her go and take her back to Xanadu. So be aware."
"I understand." Edan stands, stretches, and adds, "Rest if you can. I would rather leave earlier than later. I wish I knew the time dilation of this place relative to Xanadu. I also wish I knew if it's going to be pointless to try and set the Queen back to where she was before Vialle. I can't think of another way to try."
"According to Dad, time runs strange here, so no telling. And--I don't know, but we have to do something. I hesitate to suggest this but someone did try to call me and I didn't take it. Nobody's tried since then, but we could see who we can get hold of?" Martin doesn't sound very enthusiastic, but he's not really a Trump fan.
Edan shakes his head in the negative. "Neh. Maybe if they try again. We, ah, might get told not to do what we're doing." He puts a hand on the door, then stops. "Before I go in, well, you've been around a lot longer than I have. Do you know the actual name of this Queen? The Queen of Air and Darkness? I don't think I've ever heard."
Martin shrugs. "If someone did tell me, I think I've forgotten, but I'm not sure I'd want to say it out loud just now anyway. We can handle Vialle but I don't know if we can handle someone powerful enough to put Dad down, so best not name and invoke her. You know?"
"That's fair," Edan says. "If you ever do remember, or find out, it would help me to know it. Especially where we will go." His smile is thin from stress, but he goes in to see how things are with Vialle.
Kyauta, did you get a look at Martin just now? Has he been affected like the woman in here has been?
Kyauta says, "No, not that I could sense. That one is Ordered." He says it like he means 'tastes bad even with ketchup'.
Edan smiles at that, and tries to keep the brightness in his voice when he enters the room. "Your Majesty," he says. "I'll be watching over you for a little while."
Her eyes are closed, but she shakes her head. "Edan. I really thought you knew right from wrong. Random may not have realized I'm missing yet, so we can still salvage this."
"My personal morality is...complicated. But, then, I come from a complicated place. I am sorry that I have not found better bonds as of yet, but I anticipate this will be only temporary." He looks around the room with the Third Eye, avoiding the blinding that is the Queen, and checks the rest of the room. "If needed, I can call for Martin for you, he is proving to be a much more able attendant."
As far Edan can tell, nothing has changed in the room.
"If he, or you, wanted me to be comfortable, you'd let me out of these chains," Vialle says bitterly.
"We will," Edan says. "I do not intend to stay here for very long. And earlier than that, it would not be safe." His head tilts. "And you will not be prepared to discuss what happened that night in Tir-na Nog'th until we do."
Vialle is less staring sightlessly at Edan than tilting her head so she can listen to him clearly, with one ear in the direction he's speaking from. "Martin was asking the same questions. I don't know what happened; I've told Random, I've told Fiona, I've told Martin, and I'm telling you."
"I do not understand. You are saying you do not remember what happened? Or you were not there?"
Vialle says, "I don't know what happened. I didn't remember then and I don't remember now. I've told Fiona; I've told Random; I've told Martin; now I'm telling you." A sighted person might shake her head, but Vialle doesn't have that gesture. Perhaps she never learned it.
Edan starts to say something, then stops, well aware that Vialle nearly repeated what she had just said. "I wish you could see what I see," he says. "I cannot simply convince you with words. You have been polluted, defiled by the Queen of Tir." There is a harshness in his words he did not plan for, an element of anger that he did not intend to express, a feeling of revulsion and abhorrence that washes through him.
"Is your magic never wrong?" Vialle asks, despairing. "What if separating us when we need other is exactly the attack you think you're preventing?"
Edan's eyes widen. This was new. "If you accept the idea of a powerful entity possessing your body, one that has left you unable to remember periods of time, then why? Why would you want to keep that thing within you? How are you convinced you need each other, when in reality the entity is the only one in need?"
"I'm not possessed, Edan. I've been attacked, repeatedly, and maybe you're right that it's the Queen of Tir." Vialle is balling her fists and unballing them in obvious anger. "Whoever it is wants me to be away from Random. Wants him to lose his child. Wants my good influence on him diminished. Does that sound like the hostility you're looking for?"
Edan inclines his head. "It sounds exactly the opposite of what's been happening. How does the sudden decision to make the whole Family swear fealty to your unborn child figure into that?"
"I don't know, but it wasn't my idea. He said something about this child being tied to Xanadu and his other sons weren't." Vialle sounds confused, as if the memory is dim and she's reaching for it.
Edan leans forward. This was also new. Is it real, or a false suggestion or memory? Nothing ventured... "Did he say anything else about it?"
"No," Vialle says, "I don't remember anything else. Just that the new child was tied to Xanadu in a way the others weren't. And now if you take me away, will the child be tied to Xanadu properly?" She sounds like she might be about to start crying.
"Being of you and Random, of course your child will be tied to Xanadu." Edan's lips are pressed in a line. "Someday, if you wish, I will walk you through the relevant equation. But it doesn't matt- look. Have you had children before this one? Permit me to speak of it, for it has just occurred for me. You meet your child, and in that moment they become your world. It doesn't matter where you've been or where and when they were born or what they might be tied to. They become everything. This tie to the Realm will be there, but that will be the most trivial of concerns." He pauses.
"Let me turn that around for you. Have you wondered how it will affect your child if you carry it to term with the Queen of Tir in there the entire time?"
"There is no one but me and my child!" Vialle is almost yelling at Edan in desperation now. "I don't know what you're seeing but it's not what you think it is."
One moment, Vialle is asking what would happen if she were separated from the Queen; another, she denies it all. Either playing upon his own emotions, whatever would work, or playing for time.
"I will think upon this," he says, and falls silent outside the ring of sorcerous disruption he created earlier. He actually makes sure he's fully outside that ring, sitting down, before he holds out a palm and lets a flame spring into life upon it.
What if she was playing for time? He murmurs a few words and makes a few passes with his other hand, and looks ahead through Time.
Edan isn't sure what it means, but he sees evidence that there's been some sort of a fight.
Vialle asks what he's doing while he's casting the spell and calls after him when he leaves.
How long has Martin been out? Not terribly long, but Edan can't just wait and let him sleep when a fight might happen any random time. He goes to the door, opens it, and goes through.
"Martin. Martin, wake up."
Martin's a light sleeper. He comes up and there's a knife in his hand, which he nicely refrains from pointing at Edan. "Whats up? Something wrong?"
"Sorry. I looked ahead in Time a few hours. It looks like a fight happens in the room, I don't know exactly when. I think it's time we get moving."
He looks back towards the door, and his face is ashen. "I don't know how else we're going to be able to do this. I could Part the Veil, go straight where I want. We may have to knock Vialle out again. We're going to a shadow of a shadow, the City of Brass after Suleman trapped the greatest of the afriti but before they eventually escaped. There, I will trap the two in a bottle like the others. I won't even try to separate them. Either the Queen will leave Vialle on her own and take her earlier ghostly form and be no worse than they were before, or they will be sealed until they are released."
Martin mutters something half under his breath in a language Edan doesn't know but from the tone clearly is some sort of curse. "All right, let's get a move on. If someone's coming for her, we can't waste any time. If the horses aren't up for another hellride, we'll trade them en route for some that are. And I guess I'm in charge of the hellride since you'll need to do the ritual." He's already standing by the time he finishes the not-quite-question. Clearly Martin has done his time running and hellriding by night in the past.
"You'd rather hellride than Part the Veil?" Edan asks. "I was trying to avoid having to knock Vialle out again."
"Can you do both safely?" Martin asks. "That's the big question." Then he puts up his hand in the family tradition for an incoming Trump call. "Take it, yes or no? I can put them off, but they're getting insistent." His tone is shading from wakening to annoyed.
Edan spares a moment to frown. "I will be an optimist. If it's help, we need it. If it's not, and they already have us figured out, the plan is in trouble anyway. Go ahead and take it." He looks ready to either jump in to help Martin, or go check on Vialle.
Martin carefully doesn't let Edan touch him, in case there's something wrong on the other end; in fact he deliberately turns his back mostly to Edan, enough to keep Edan both out of his sight and the direct sightlines of the Trump. For a guy who doesn't use them, he has a very good sense of how to use them.
"Hello?"
"Yeah, I know," Folly says, without preamble, in response to his mood, "but I wanted to let you know your father is feeling more himself again, and to see how you're doing." Martin can feel the relief flooding through the contact as she says that last. "Are you ok? Do you need anything? Or anyone?" She's positioned, or is controlling the view through the trump, so he can see Fiona and Hannah even though they're not in the contact.
Edan stays completely out of the contact, and he's got his hand on the door ready to check on Vialle. He holds a moment in case he's needed.
Martin says, flat: "Folly, this is really not a good time. I'm glad Dad's feeling more himself but we have a carpet full of possibly ex-queen here and scrying suggests we need to get a move on to avoid a fight. No extra contact, but do Hannah or Fiona have anything to tell us from where you are in Xanadu?"
"Tell Edan Fiona examined the chain that was recovered when Vialle was found, and thinks it could be used to keep a prisoner from using sorcery," Folly replies. "Of course, if the Queen is the one who made it in the first place, it might be exactly the wrong thing for your purposes. But if you think it might be useful we can get it to you later -- Signy has it now..." -- her voice rises, clearly meant for Hannah and Fiona -- "...and is there anything else you want me to pass along to Martin and Edan? They may not have much time before they have to move again."
Edan doesn't open the door he has a hand on, but he does listen to hear if there's any obvious trouble- or looks through the window if there is one.
There's no window but Edan doesn't hear anything through the door. Edan doesn't think Kyauta is willing to take a different form right now without orders, but it seems more alert with the trump usage nearby.
Martin says, "Check. Edan, Folly tells me Fiona says she's looked at that silver chain Signy has and thinks it could keep a prisoner from using Sorcery. Which is just what we needed unless it doesn't work on our current problem. Do we want it? Also Hannah is with Folly, any message to pass through?"
Edan's eyes are wide and shining gold. "By the Prophet. Yes, pass it through, quickly! It will work on both getting there and afterward."
While he waits, he adds, "Our child is safe, yes? The Raven is still with him?"
Martin says, "Yes, Folly we want the chain, ASAP. Also Edan asks whether his child is safe and the Raven is still with him."
Through the connection, the view around Folly begins shifting as she leaves the royal suite, murmuring a quick "Back in a bit -- Edan wants the chain" to Hannah and Fiona as she goes.
"The baby is well," she says to Martin, "and is still watched over by Heckle, and Gerard and Corvis, while we examined the magic circle." She moves through the castle and back toward the throne room with surprising speed given that she's holding a contact open -- perhaps aided not so much by her skill with trump, though that's part of it, as with her intimate and intuitive knowledge of her surroundings. "They're in the throne room, and Signy should be, too -- but if you need to drop this call and reach out again once I've got the chain in hand and you aren't maybe about to scuffle, I get it."
Edan still holds at the door, ready to go through once he gets confirmation- and maybe a chain.
"Gerard and Corvis and Heckle are all watching the baby," Martin relates first, possibly because he has a young child of his own, "and Folly's getting the chain, which is in the throne room. You want me to call her back?" He sounds like he's pretty sure of the answer.
"Whatever gets us that chain," Edan says. "Our chances of this working suddenly became more tangible."
"Okay, I'm holding on," Martin says to both parties, and there's a tense wait while Folly runs down to the throne room.
When Folly makes it to the throne room, whether by design or happenstance, her trajectory gives Martin a good view of everyone else present as she races by.
The shifting scene comes to an abrupt stop and she clears her throat. "Er, Signy," she says, "sorry to interrupt, but I've got Martin and Edan on the line and they'd like to borrow the chain, if you've still got it. I warned them about our concerns." Martin can see just enough of Signy to see that she also has a card in her hand, though not who's on it.
"I'm not talking to Dad," Martin warns Folly. "Just get the thing and we have to go."
Nothing is happening as far as Edan can tell, and Kyauta isn't signaling that anything is happening that it can tell, either.
Edan's paranoia is probably not anywhere near Martin's, but he's got a healthy dose of his own. While Martin is talking, Edan nods to him for a 'going to check everything is all right' and he opens the door to check on the Queen.
Vialle is still sitting, sulking, in her spot. "Who's there?" she asks when the door opens.
Folly nods in agreement with Martin's statement, but her words seem to be directed elsewhere: "Yes, a youngers meeting is a good idea, even if some have to join remotely," she says. "Lunch, Xanadu time. We'll gather and wait for our cousins elsewhere to join when they're out of danger. I can signal my husband when we're ready and have him call me back when he can. And in the meantime we can reach out to others to wait for our call, or our signal."
Martin sees her reach toward Signy without getting too close; they're both angled so others in the room don't have a clear view of what they're saying or doing. "Try not to touch me," she says. "Unfortunately, now is not the time to experiment with a party line. But say hi to Raven for me."
"Do not try a party line," Martin says. "Cousins meeting on the other side, Trump in when it's safe, got it. Things are getting a little hairy here, and we really need the chain if we're going to do what we need to do in that kind of time frame."
Edan tries not to let his relief show- or be heard- when he goes through the door. "Edan, Majesty," he says. "I said earlier that we would not be staying here long. It's almost time to move onward."
"Where are we going?" Vialle asks.
"First, near the Land of Peace, in the land of my mother's father," Edan says. "Then back to Xanadu."
Folly nods and extends her hand into the contact to Martin to pass off the chain. "Signy says it likes to change shape and size from time to time," she says. "Be as safe as you can."
Martin takes the chain through the connection. "Size changing, check. OK, we have to go now. Stay safe, and we didn't have this conversation. We'll talk later when it's safe." He does his best to close the connection, which is pretty good, though Folly can get in some last words if she doesn't want to hold it open.
Knowing time is of the essence on his end, Folly just says, "Talk soon, love. Good luck," and lets the connection close.
Martin blows out a breath and says, "I love you but I wish people would quit calling when I'm working."
Then he goes into the other room to join Edan with the chain. "Okay, I have it. What's next?" He's looking expectantly at Vialle as if he's pretty sure the answer is going to be 'tie her up'.
Edan looses a breath, as if he was waiting for something to go very wrong. "We'll need to tie you up again, Majesty," he says, and nods at Martin. "We will ride again, then, and I have Parting the Veil in reserve if needed."
Martin moves to chain Vialle up, and if Edan has any suggestions, he implements them. Left to his own devices, he binds her with her wrists behind, tied together to prevent her from moving them. "What do you think?" he asks Edan.
"That's cold," Vialle complains.
Martin says, "We'll put a cloak over you."
Edan gives what recommendations he can, looking as much to interfere with the classic Sorcerous gestures as he is for binding Vialle's movements.
"Let's go," he says. "I can ride with her while you forge the path. We want great white cliffs under a fiery orange sky. A sprawling empty fortress of black basalt and brass that sits at the top and part way down the cliffs. Beyond the top of the cliffs on the other side of the fortress is a lake of magma that stretches out for miles. I can tweak us to the right shadow once you get close."
They are able to get out of the tower without encountering anyone. If there is a fight, and there will be, the tower will be defended by its own guard.
Martin is an experienced hellrider, so he has no difficulty shifting for the City of Brass as described. It takes him some time, adding and subtracting and adding the details of the magma lake and the towers as Edan describes them. Vialle complains a little about the cold chains, but she rapidly stops talking about the temperature. Martin is clearly sweating and the horses don't like it either. At a certain point he slows the horses to a stop. "You said something about protection?"
Edan nods. It's a trick he's used before on Aramsham. He gets down, produces a few twigs, sets them alight, then ends the fire by drawing all the heat away from it. What remains is a handful of ashes and charcoal, and he uses his index finger and this rough powder to draw a few symbols on the foreheads of both Family and beasts while he chants. He offers to Kyauta, as well, though it's unlikely his affine needs it.
At the end of this he claps his hands and waves a cloud of sooty dust all around them. "This will protect you...us...from burning, if not from some discomfort." He sniffs the air, feeling for the dust, the silence, the feeling of abandonment. "I can finish the trip, if you will. There will be a path up."
Martin offers to take Vialle with him, so that Edan can finish the way.
The spell goes as planned. Kyauta does, in fact decline, and claims that the powder tickles his nose. He makes some shifts to his body and it is better.
Edan finds the shadow to be very close, but also feels a sense of foreboding that has been growing as they approach.
Edan re-mounts and guides them ahead, feeling for the warp and weft of reality. He reaches for just the right combination to find the desolate and abandoned city with the raw materials and tools present to create the jar/prison he needs.
"Something feels wrong," he says, and tries to suss our what it is.
Martin makes a face. "Smells like Chaos," he says, as if that explains it. "But some places have been harder to get to since the war. Have you been there since then?"
"No," Edan says, "and this is a shadow of a shadow. Not the place where I studied under the... kind... hand of my grandfather. This place, it is after Suleman passed judgement upon most of the ifriti, but before he died and those left free discovered they were still strong. An alternate history, if you will. A place where I myself am strong."
He twists reality as they follow a curve, bringing the path up into view. Wide enough for horses and wagons, but a slow ascent, with switchbacks and landings.
"Behold the City of Brass," he says, "the City and Lake of Ruin. We can go up the path, or use my filmy, or use my Sorcery to carry us up."
As a shadow of a shadow, of course this City of Brass is somewhat different. Maybe that's what's bothering Edan.
Martin is frowning at the whole thing, though as usual he's hard to read. Maybe he's just grumpy because it's hot. "It is what it is. Let's deal with what we have, and not worry about the rest if we don't have to. And let's ride up the path, which I expect to be empty, and spare your magical strength." He prepares to do so.
Vialle is complaining, from the tone of it, from inside the cloak Martin has put around her to keep her from seeing and affecting what's going on. Perhaps that's odd for a blind woman, but maybe Martin thinks she's not really blind.
Edan nods, and leads the way; he moves as fast as is safe, takes his time rounding the switchbacks, and keeps them all carefully on the cliff side of the path. He spares random glances upwards, to make sure no one is up there at the top.
Edan heads upwards, taking a path more commonly used by visitors than by the ifrit or their kin. The city is not the bustling metropolis he recalls, but it's not abandoned. Something has moved in. "Stay still, please," Martin says to his captive. "I don't want you to get hurt by accident." Martin loosens his sword. "If I were in charge of defending this castle, there'd be ambushes there, there and there," he says, pointing with his off hand at several clusters of rocks.
I detect no beings where the other Lord points, Kayuta tells Edan. This far from a pattern, Kyauta is more talkative.
Martin stands up in his stirrups at a bend in the path. "These switchbacks are mirror images of the ones between Rebma and the city below, aren't they?"
Martin is right. And they always have been.
Edan clicks his jaw shut. "Now that you mention it..." he says. A moment later he adds, "Kyauta doesn't feel anything up there, but I'm not going to take chances. I am the grandson of the Padishah of another City of Brass, and his power runs true in me. I am stronger than my brothers. But I must admit, I do not know who has taken residence in this place." He reaches out his hand, then, feels outward to the lake of fire up above and beyond the cliff. If it feels malleable to him, Edan aims to draw that heat to make a strong barrier around their little party.
Edan casts the spell and gathers the fire. The spell goes well, and Edan makes the barrier he wants. The air is dry inside the barrier and at most, the group might sweat more than is comfortable.
Fire in this shadow feels brighter and faster, as if there was more energy in the air or something. Edan hasn't been to shadows with differing atmospheres much, but Bleys has told him to stay within the ones he's comfortable in. So far, this is comfortable.
"The Fire feels a little wild here," Edan says. "Another argument for something of Chaos, neh? So far, we are prepared for surprises." They really have little choice; he leads them up to the first point Martin mentioned. The emphasis is keeping them on the stair, but if they end up needing Sorcery to keep from falling he is ready.
Edan leads Martin around the last switchback, and there is no ambush, but there are scratchings in the rocks as if there once was something stationed here. They reach the gates of the city, beside the lake of lava, pouring over the cliff like a waterfall and falling into unknown mists below. It does not solidify at the edges, and the magic that keeps it red hot also in place.
The gates to the city are large, imposing, and closed.
On the lake there is a raft, floating a dozen yards or more out.
Shall I fly over, Great Lord? asks Kyauta. It's unclear if he means the lake or the gate.
Martin, meanwhile, has closed up his robes and headdress in the style of the Shadows near where Edan grew up; he looks for all the world like one of the desert riders, save for his coloring. Which is a bit red with sun even with the light-colored clothing. "You weren't wrong about this place. Not great for me or her."
Vialle is looking pretty limp too.
Fly over the raft, tell me what's on it, Edan thinks to Kyauta. He frowns and swipes at his shoulder, then, realizing that golden flames are beginning to lick here and there on his person. It's like the proximity to the lake is calling him back to his elemental form. He wills it back down, and says to Martin, "If it gets to where you can't stand it, and I know how bad that would have to be, I can mitigate it somewhat. But it will take a dedicated effort."
Martin nods, once. "Could be worse. Could be raining. We'll let you know if it gets more than uncomfortable."
Kyauta slithers out of Edan's shirt and returns to a bird-like form, although perhaps one well-suited to flames and heat. He takes off and Martin watches him fly and change. "Useful," he says.
With that, Edan slides off his horse and begins to approach the gate.
The gate is large enough for all but the largest efreet to enter and clad with aged brass. A patina of green highlights the embossed bas-relief on the gate. They are closed.
Great Lord, it is full of heat, and chained to the wall.
There's no non-magical way that a raft or a chain should survive the lava.
"All right." It would have been foolish to run off and not at least try the gate or some postern or inlaid door. Edan does try the gate, drawing fire to himself from the lake to give a giant's push and pull and then a sharp knock to the gate doors. If that is unsuccessful, he mounts his horse to ride out and observe the raft's magics.
The door reacts to Edan's magical touch by popping like a soap bubble. It settles into a great cloud of dust, blowing into the broad avenues and the cleared squares beyond the gateway.
When the dust settles, the empty city lies before them. Martin looks in the gate. "Is it all gonna be that fragile?" He doesn't sound like he expects it to be.
Edan shakes his head. "I certainly hope not. It's almost as if someone expected a sorcerer to come through here." He moves to mount his horse. "What I want is close to the center of the city, a pottery where I can throw a vessel of the proper shape and size."
Kyauta, is anything on this raft? Is it just floating out there on the lake of fire, tethered to the shore?
Nothing is here, My Lord Kyauta answers, It may be a marker for the lava grate in the wall on the other end of the chain!
"Okay," Martin answers the bit Edan said aloud, "then let's do that. This is your show. I'm mostly muscle for this one."
Edan nods in return and nudges his horse through the gates.
The memories come, wash over him like waves. He had come here, a different City of Brass, once he had realized the magics of the afriti were his only path to Sorcery. Come here, to learn from his mother's father, the Padishah of this place. The buildings were the same, almost, black basalt and yellow brass, square and squat on the outskirts, rising to thin, impossible needles and minarets towards the center. Their horses' hooves kicking up black dust and white sand. The shimmer of heat everywhere, heavy, imaginary shapes forming like that of clouds, only to twist and writhe and disappear one you looked fully upon them. And the heat, building moment by moment, partly from the nearby lake of fire and partly from the magics of the city itself. And then there was the silence, the remorse hanging heavy on the air from so many trapped here in their prisons, not yet released. This is a place of punishment, and every moment, every glimpse and movement reflects that.
Edan leads them, ever inward along dusty streets towards a building he once knew to house great ovens. Ovens, storage rooms of clay and hard crushed fired pottery and twinkling gemstones.
The building Edan seeks is much as he remembers it; the same appearance to the street, the doors of iron that glow dimly from the heat within, the wisps of steam and smoke escaping from around its edges and from the chimneys. Vialle coughs under the shrouded blanket and protection; Martin appears stoic, but he's sweating and his hat seems to have shifted to something closer to a keffiyeh at some point in their travels.
There is no lock, but it takes a sorcerer to open the door or to pass through it without opening. Or a djinn who is immune to the flames, of course.
As far as Edan can tell, there is no living thing in this City of Brass other than their party.
Before Edan moves to the door, he says to Martin, "If you are the muscle, I make your job more difficult here. You must watch her, and watch for others coming, and it will be difficult to see once I start. It will be very bright. And the doorway, it must stay open. I will pull fire from the lake."
Martin scowls. If he were Bleys, Edan might suspect him of doing higher order mathematics in his head. "I'll do what I can. It's highly improbable this sword is going to melt, at least."
Edan dismounts, walks to the door, and gestures. "Stay back some." He uses Fire and Space to throw the doors open, and bends his will to block the rush of heat he knows will come from inside.
Kyauta, attend me. I want you to help guard while I fashion a vessel.
I will guard you most well, Great Lord!
He spreads his arms, then, and floats rather than walks inside.
The pottery wheels and tables are too crude for his needs; Edan draws raw clay from the deep water-covered troughs under their feet with Sorcery, lets it stream and turn and gather in the air before him. He crushes gems with the force of his will, a sparkling dust that he adds to the mix. Powdered glass and gum are pulled from other containers, kept from melting as they are incorporated. Edan mutters, cajoles, gestures, sings, all where appropriate. He speaks to the fire like it is a part of himself, which of course it is. Nearby, ingots of lead melt down to a bubbling shiny grey liquid. The rest of his materials, they turn and combine before him in the air, a sparkling potter's wheel of magic, obeying the direction of his own hands and voice and will. He is golden Fire again, heedless of heat, brighter than the flames of the kiln. He embraces the clay as it spins, faster and faster, smoothing the mass until it is a man-sized Fritware jar. Eventually satisfied with the appearance, next comes the lead; it hisses and steams as he turns it into shiny filigree around the outside and the beginnings of a molten seal at the top. He fashions a lid to fit the jar, also covered with the filigree scrawl of protective and abjurative writing as old as the afriti themselves. And finally, he creates a glaze of glass and molten gems around the outside, colorful and transparent like a soap bubble. He fires it all, waves of fire he draws from the kiln, waves of magma that dream in from the lake and through the door. It bathes his work, wave after wave of light and heat until finally, he sets the thing, top open, gently to the floor.
Edan alights upon the floor himself then, still near-incandescent, and says, "Martin, please bring the Queens forth. I must speak with them."
Edan casts the spell, creating the Great Seal as he expected. He notes, as he creates it, that the fire fights with him, as if there is another presence with dominion over it... somewhere.
But the spell is cast, and while Edan feels he could have done better, the vessel is complete.
Martin comes to the door. He looks dry, annoyed, and sunburnt. "Was that it? What now?"
Great Lord!, the Fire Goddess has noticed your casting! She comes!
Edan's head whips around in Kyauta's direction. "This is it," he says to Martin. "This is what I need. I've just been told Chantico is here. She's coming, and maybe not alone. The safest thing is to go somewhere else."
"Right," Martin says, and hauls Vialle, who must have been right beside him the whole time, up and into the doorway. "You handling the transit, or are we going on one of my Trumps?" He's got Vialle in one hand and the sword in the other so he's going to have to hand one or the other off to get the Trumps.
"Part the Veil," Edan says. "Your Trumps as backup. I know a volcano out in shadow." He fishes out the half-charred ash wand he normally uses for this and drags it, screeching, across the air. "We can't let her get near Vialle. I... can't save the horses."
Martin makes a frustrated noise about the horses, but he grabs Vialle and prepares for the rift. Clearly this isn't his first rodeo.
Edan tears a hole in reality, and he and Martin (and Vialle, if only in the way of luggage), go through into a bright and sunny day in an amphitheatre ... full of tourists, examining the historical site, at least some of whom seem to notice the appearance of two men and the woman they're carrying with them.
Vialle's not an idiot. She smells and feels the changes in the air and the noises of the people in the area. She starts screaming for all she's worth. "HELP! I'VE BEEN KIDNAPPED!"
Martin mutters an expletive under his breath.
Edan's shoulders slump. "La usadiq," he says, and raises his arms to connect with the water and heat below and bring it up to the surface.
No way this was going to turn into a chase scene. Better to send the tourists running and give them some time to get out. "Won't have much time!" he yells to Martin before the crashing and rumbling takes over.
"When you're done; we'll go. Follow me." Vialle tries to drop to the ground, but Martin catches her. "Don't even try it."
It all happens as Edan has envisioned, and perhaps more. The rumbling and spitting of mud does not stop and grows louder and deeper, and everything is shrouded in ash and fog.
Edan may have started something volatile.
Martin mutters some more expletives that are lost to the noise, grabs Vialle in a fireman's carry, and moves surprisingly fast for such a relatively little guy, even given his Amberite heritage.
The wave of tourists is going a specific direction, and Martin starts plowing through them.
"This way." Time to juggle. What his father tried to teach him before, it made a lot more sense now. Edan keeps his grip on the pottery, and angles them away from the crowd. He uses Pattern here, convinced that he's seen just the right sheltered nook or house or room that is both strong and off the main path from here so there won't be any people.
"This is kind of the setting I was looking for, to be honest. I might have had to cause this chaos anyway, to get the heat I wanted. We get the right combination, a few minutes' peace, this can still be done. It all goes wrong, we'll have to Trump out."
Martin starts carrying Vialle and using their combined mass to push across the crowd diagonally. "Under the seating," he calls to Edan; it looks like that's where he's trying to lead them. "I'll buy you time."
Once he figures this out, Edan lends his own will to help find just the right place, the right circumstance; if they make it, and he gets a relatively good open space with no interruption, then it's time to drop Pattern and go back to Sorcery. The steam concentrates, and so does the heat, to him. If it looks good, he places his hands flat on the ground and draws a magic circle in obsidian around himself, Vialle, and the pottery.
With two Pattern wielders, they have no trouble finding the space they need. Vialle is still wailing in distress, hoping someone will notice and rescue her, but she may not be able to tell how far out of the crowd they are. There are still noises from the fleeing tourists, plus the sounds from the exploding volcanic action in the middle of the amphitheater. Martin moves into place to defend them from anyone coming from the crowd side of things. Where he got that blade isn't clear but he does have one.
Once the magic circle is inscribed upon the floor, Edan follows with a wash of fire that does not affect any of them but flows into the floor of the space. It becomes uncomfortably hot, and a nearly-invisible bubble of bluish flame forms all around them. He removes the blanket and sets Vialle down in the center of the circle, the open jar floating just behind her. He steps back, raises his arms, and chants; some of it in Thari, some of it in Mabrahoring. Steam is all around them, on their skin, in their lungs, until it almost seems a part of them- and they, a part of it. And in the final phase, as the steam and heat plucks at their bodies and the edges of Vialle's form begins to fray into the steam itself, he speaks.
"Vialle of Rebma," he says, "My Queen. The Queen of Air and Darkness rides you like an affine. Through you, She has damaged the integrity of Xanadu and suborned the King. I love you as I love the King I have sworn to serve. I shall hold you until such time as you are freed from this creature or the King's Justice falls upon us all.
"Queen of Air and Darkness, Queen of Tir-na Nog'th, hear me! You know me. You have seen me Walk. And I have seen your works. By my vows to the throne of Xanadu, I reject you! By my name, I bind you! Until such time as Your works are undone and you are broken away from my Queen, you will be sealed!"
With gestures and Power, he draws the Queens into the steam itself, then directs that steam into the jar he has prepared. And with a boom of finality, the top lid is settled onto the jar, and the lead writing reconfigures to seal the top.
Edan kneels, then, his sight blurry until he wipes the tears from his eyes, confident that he's just sacrificed another tiny part of his soul.
Many things happen in the time while Edan is working: smoke and steam fill the underground space where he's working; Vialle awakens and cries out, moaning in fear and terror; there are sparks from the working. If Martin is doing things while Edan is casting, Edan is too busy with the great sorcerous work to notice.
At the end of the work, there is a sudden silence. The sparks have faded away, and the hissing of the steam has diminished to nothing. A sudden sound of footsteps outside, and Martin is retreating back into the workroom, blade up, quiet, focused, but not attacking--yet.
Behind him, or ahead of him, since Martin is facing, is a tall, slim figure with a blade of his own, one Edan recognizes as once: the High Marshal of the Moonriders. He looks at Martin, and Edan. "I believe you have someone," he tells Edan, "that belongs with me."
Edan draws one of his swords, holds it out parallel to the ground, and bows at the neck. "And I am inclined to give your Queen to you, High Marshal," he says. "Just as soon as she extricates herself from ours."
The Marshal says "As she is." He offers a gloved hand to Edan.
Edan's fingers twitch on his free hand. What's left of the steam roils around them, reflecting his disquiet. But, he shakes his head.
"I will not leave my Queen with you," he says to the Moonrider. "You will not continue to leave your Queen with us. You can probably thrash us both. I can probably get her, them, out of your reach before you do. Where does that leave us?"
Martin gives Edan a look. He's not as certain that the Marshal is going to thrash them as Edan is, clearly.
"Do you wish to negotiate, then?" The Marshal sounds amused. He doesn't seem to be bothered by whatever is going on with the mists.
Edan tries to keep the surprise off his face. Where had he heard the Marshal was in the same league with Benedict? Was it Father? If Martin has a different opinion, seen something that Edan might not, that changes most everything.
"Nothing you would accept, I am afraid," he says to the Marshal. "I'm going to take them home. When I release them, if your Queen decides to extricate herself and leave, I'm not going to strain myself trying to keep her around. We go back to where we were, back to square one. She must see that her ploy has failed."
"Do it," says Martin, his full concentration on the Marshal. "I've got this."
The Marshal starts to move.
There is a hooked sword in each hand, now. Edan interposes himself between the Marshal and the jar, so the Marshal will have to deal with him even if it disrupts the exit. One arm is up and on guard while the other waves a circle around himself and the jar as he Parts the Veil to sink into another place.
"Help is coming!" he calls to Martin.
The spell is weak, but should be effective. The Marshall feints towards Martin and then isn't where Martin was expecting him to be, moving swiftly past him and throwing himself at Edan like a linebacker. Edan has his blade in place to stop the Moonrider, but the Marshall somehow wasn't where Edan expected him to be.
He hits Edan in the midsection, carrying himself, Edan, and the sealed bottle into Broceliande. They land and Edan has the wind knocked out of him, literally. The Marshall is halfway on his feet before Edan can rise. The breach in reality seals behind Edan, not before hearing Martin say "Shit!"
The knights are all around them, rising, taking arms up. The Marshall finishes coming to his feet and grins, not unlike Bleys.
"Shit," Edan echoes.
He groans and rolls backward to his feet, not quite stifling a cough. He also offers a silent thanks to whomever or whatever helped him hang on to his swords. He holds on to them now, in a defensive stance, Third Eye open to catch an additional Time-augmented rush or the Time flak Bleys taught him how to guard against.
"This bottle goes to Castle Xanadu," he says, loud enough (and hoarse enough!) to get the message to his men. "By the way, how's the family?"
The knights move to surround the Marshall and to defend Edan, waiting for an order to attack. One is heading back towards the encampment, likely to organize help. Edan didn't see anyone order her to do so, but it's what must have happened.
Kyauta flies at the Marshall, ripping through Edan's shirt. He's growing and spreading his wings and comes at the Marshall's face, talons out and ablaze.
As Kyauta reaches towards the Marshall, Edan sees him blink, or whatever it is when he was somewhere and now isn't. It's like a sidestep without moving. His hand is out and catches Kyauta's leg above the talons.
Kyauta cries out mentally. great lord!. It seems to be in pain. And then Edan's affine is gone, as if he had never been here.
"The family is well, thank you. Please convey my best to your father." He looks at the knights. "I can do that to as many as is necessary. I suggest you surrender or attack."
It's unclear if the Marshall has a preference.
Edan can still feel the hoarse yell of his affine's name when it took off to attack. His hands are still white-knuckled around the handles of his swords. Was Kyauta destroyed? Flung into Time? If the latter, maybe there was still a chance. He blinks back some of the anger that rises within him, sure that the Marshal was hoping for him to lose his temper.
Edan sees no evidence Kyauta was destroyed or eaten in the Chaosian way. Flung Into Time is a theory that hasn't been disproven, and fits with what he's been told of the Marshall.
"Or, we could fill you full of arrows. Or, I could drop this thing into a volcano. Even I don't know what would happen then. Or maybe do both. Or maybe I take you on and my Knights make sure this gets to Xanadu. Don't presume to set the rules of engagement in my house."
Maybe there was a little bit of temper there, after all.
With his Third Eye, Edan sees nothing but Ordered power. The Marshall is a bright source, like a family member. It hurts to look at him too closely. When he moves, it's like a light that is split or reflected. It's suddenly both places, and then gone from the first one because it was really in the second place. Edan feels as if he never quite 'sees' the Marshall, but just the most likely place he probably *is*.
The Marshall is smiling. "They told you nothing, then about how to fight us? You will never land an arrow or a blow. If I choose, I can be dozens of places at once. I am here..."
The Marshall appears behind Edan's Ruby Knights, but is gone before they can lay hands upon him. To their credit, they do try. "I am here." The Marshall appears behind and slightly out of reach of evan Edan's dancer's arms.
And he is once again on the spot Edan's troops are aiming at, as if he has chosen to stand on a target, or even has never left. "It's clear I don't want you dead, or you would be. You've come too close to the center to easily Part the Veil and the last time you just lost your strongest ally.
"Let us discuss how we will end this, lad. Don't waste your men."
A spell immediately comes to mind, something based in quantum mechanics, but Edan drops the thought; he's too close to Xanadu, really, for anything based in Sorcery to overcome the strength of the Marshal's Realness. The gambit of moving to his Knights of the Lamp as backup has failed. Sorcery is too unreliable here. All he's got left is the power of Pattern and the strength of his right arm, and if the Marshal tries the Time-flak or his Schrodinger's trick on him, well, all he can do is hope that his own Realness will overcome it. That, and hope Martin or Random has an ace up their sleeves.
So his shoulders droop, just a little, and he draws the blue fire of Pattern to himself against what his opponent can manifest, and prays that Tir's Pattern will still serve him here.
"The Sule bottle holds Queen Vialle," he calls out to the Knights as explanation while he draws himself up. "She has been possessed by the Queen of Air and Darkness. This man's Queen. Don't let him abscond with her until we're through."
To the Marshal, he points one of his swords and says, "You know, I like you. I can see where she gets it from. It's going to take me forever to get my affine back, an I have the chance. I don't know how complicit Vialle was in all this, but it doesn't matter. Until the King says different, she is my Queen, and I will defend her with all I am. Have at thee!"
And then he is moving, dancing towards the High Marshal of the Moonriders, swords in hand; and if he is defeated by someone stronger, he knows in his heart that he has stayed true to himself.
The Marshall is amazing. Fast, precise, and he moves like a liquid. He's in control and doesn't have to use time tricks. It's an impressive show, especially since he only has one blade. It' s so fast that the Knights of the Lamp can barely tell what is happening.
Edan fights well, but it's clear to him from the opening moments that he cannot win. Edan isn't sure his father could beat this man. Nothing he tries works, and the Marshall doesn't get tired. He could easily wear Edan out, if he wanted. He seems to be dueling for the sheer joy of dueling a highly skilled swordsman such as Edan.
The Marshall doesn't speak much while fighting, but he does acknowledge when Edan does something well or clever. Less than ten minutes in, something changes. "Time to finish this. You may yield or fall. If you yield, I swear I will see to it that your queen comes to no harm. Either way, I am leaving with that Sule bottle."
Edan slows, steps back, and carefully lowers his blades. It doesn't matter, since it is obvious to him that the Marshal could have taken him out at any time. Once out of reach, he drops them to the ground.
The feeling of disgust that washes over him, it is not hard to understand; countless times Bleys would take him apart this way in fencing, until Edan learned the technique or counter that he wanted to teach. It wasn't just the sting of losing after all the work they had put in; all this time, and he was still the student.
"That's...all I have. My Queen comes to no harm. Neither do my men." He tilts his head slightly. "You're running out of time. You know exactly how much you have left. How many times have you seen this moment?"
The Marshall acknowledges him with a salute, and lowers his blade. "You fought honorably and well, Sir Edan ibn Bleys. No harm, as you say."
Edan sees a rider coming up behind the Marshall, on a fey horse like the riders he saw in the Moonrider camp, but of much higher quality. Edan's sharp ears hear the Knights of the Lamp speaking; they think that Edan has fought the King of Paristan.
If it were any other time, he would be amused by that. The supposition wasn't all that far off...
"Ah, My Shield," says the Marshall, without turning. He walks over to the sule bottle, and carefully picks it up, returning to the mounted fairy knight. That knight makes a move and there are two horses. The Marshall mounts and, despite the restlessness of the Knights of the Lamp, they turn to ride away.
The Marshall wheels before leaving. He has a deep smile that is almost as disconcerting as his stare. "Come to me in Ghenesh, and we can discuss your questions at leisure. We can seek solutions to our mutual problems."
The two moon riders depart, leaving almost no trail and disappearing quickly into the deep woods.
"I hope the basilisks get them," says Skander.
Edan doesn't relax at all until they're gone. Then he turns to his lieutenant. "That was the Marshal, the military leader of the Moonriders. One of the foes we are training to fight. Obviously, the rank and file would not be like that, but now you know why I've been discussing the Principle of Time so much with you. He won this round against me. Next time, I pray I shall be improved."
He looks around the field. "Prince Martin should be here soon. He might have backup with him. Please bring him to me when he shows up."
As if on cue, Edan feels the touch of a Trump call on his mind. Not a very practiced or gentle one, either.
Edan slows and holds up a hand to Skander as he accepts the contact. "Who?" he asks.
Martin says, "Martin. Hit him now."
Edan isn't sure he could prevent his feelings of frustration and grief from bleeding over the contact. He doesn't try. "I tried to. Nearly ten minutes, I laid into him with all I had. All he did was smile." He extends a hand. "It's...over. Come ahead, if you would."
Martin swears a short blue streak. "He's gone already," he says to someone Edan can't see. "I'm going through. I'll call in a bit, or you can." And he moves to step through to Edan.
"I'm sorry, Edan. We just weren't fast enough," Martin says. His face is tight with some emotion he's not letting out.
"No. I am sorry. It only took a moment to realize I was not his match, but I had hoped to be enough of a nuisance that I could delay until you arrived." Edan shakes his head. "He is far beyond me. I have perhaps a quarter of his skill. Excuse me, perhaps an eighth. All I could do was keep him entertained, and he knew exactly how much time he had before you came. My biggest mistake was taking things here, where I hobbled my own Sorcery- but had I stayed in Pompeii or the City of Brass, we would likely be dealing with Chantico as well."
Walking with Martin, he draws out his notched, battered, hooked blades and flips them point first into the grass and mud where no doubt Xanadu historians will gather a few centuries from now and discuss where he lost his own Queen.
"What now?"
"It's not your fault. I was going to let you get back and hold the retreat, but he was faster than either of us. It was my call and I blew it. You hold no blame," Martin says soberly, and loudly enough that the nearest of Edan's men can hear him. "I will tell the King that all was done on my decisions and guidance, and you did only what I asked of you." Lowering his voice, he adds, "I asked Paige for help and she tried something, and I guess he knew it was coming if he'd already left. It's really not your fault."
"It was my plan." Edan holds up a hand to acknowledge Martin's words. "So close! We were so close, and after all that we've lost her and the chain, too. The best we can do, I think, is let the others know what happened, and move on from there."
"I'm not willing to send you to Dad and I can't go back there just yet," Martin says, "so let's call someone -- not Paige, she already knows -- and arrange things. Can you talk to Folly for me?" He's already thumbing out his Trump cards again, ready to hand one to Edan.
"I will," Edan says, ready to take the card face down.
If that is indeed the card he receives, he concentrates on Folly's image, willing a connection.
Last modified: 15 October 2020