It is hard to describe the way time passed as "night", not with the way the sky wheels or the short periods between "dark" and "light". It's likewise hard to get much rest, but it isn't as if they are going to get more here. The knights and the moon riders are both eager to travel, and the camp is quickly broken down and left behind.
The path they take does not backtrack, but it does go towards more ordered places. Or at least less disordered ones. Even at Fiona's tower, there are rules and principles. It isn't out of the question that the Moonrider method of travel involves a certain amount of wandering around and hoping they get where they're going. Or so it seems.
The sky shifts back to something more akin to Amber's blue, but richer and more velvety, somehow. Even in the day, it is dark and close. The moon hangs low and looks as if it's always on the horizon, huge and orange-hued. Slowly the trees becomes less temperate and the forest becomes a jungle.
The moon riders are more animated as they cross a path with a sign near it. "Just a few hours more," says Argalia.
"Oh, and don't worry about the natives. Even if they ambush us, they're not much of a threat to anyone who isn't traveling alone."
Sir Unsheathed laughs at that. "You're more at risk from wild animals than wild people."
"Like the Gheneshi thing you were talking about before," Raven guesses as she looks around. "The natives trying to ambush people something that happens a lot around here, or is that one of those 'just in case because you'll see 'em in the trees, but it'll never happen' kind of warnings?"
Brennan is mostly quiet at the mention of ambush, but he does maintain a posture of alertness.
If that gives him warning of an ambush, so much the better, but his main purpose is absorbing all the unique qualia in all their unique combinations that make up the place-- the Shadow-- called Ghenesh. Part of this is visual, and part of that visual is the moon: Brennan wants to be able to sketch it later with his usual mechanical, draftsman-like precision. Not to create a Trump, which he can't do, but because it might be the best way to communicate to others how to get here without taking them here directly.
But he does not neglect his other senses. He wants to remember the heaviness of the humid air on his skin, the clouds of insects (even if conjury keeps them from bothering him too much), the sounds of foliage rustling in the breeze, the sound of birdcall from the trees and the air, the smell of the vegetation cloying all around him, even the look of the markings on the signs whether or not he can read them.
Brennan is resolved that nothing will prevent him from returning here again, should he decide to do so. Not by Pattern, not by Sorcery.
Brennan's efforts befit a person who can walk through shadows; he teaches himself how to bring himself to this path in this jungle in this place in this season. He invests in the knowing; the color of the sunlight, the way the air smells of plants all speaking in their slow fragrant language, the way the water moves over rocks in an unseen brook. Brennan could return here at least as reliably as the moon riders, or so he thinks.
Sir Unsheathed nods. "They wouldn't ambush a party this large. But don’t get separated. It can lead to incidents."
Argalia replies, "We may see them in the trees, but Sir Unsheathed is right. It would take more than they are capable of to take on nearly a dozen armed knights, some of whom are Riders."
Lorides adds, "I can smell them. We're being watched." Nevertheless, he (and the other horses) continue on.
Brennan hears Lorides' comment, and quietly signals the rest of the Knights to pull back and adopt a slightly more defensive posture. They'll know what to do-- nothing overt or threatening, just alert, in reach of each other, and ready to form a mutual defense if necessary.
He also silently works Space to provide himself with a brief overhead view.
It's hard for Brennan to get much of a view, since they are on a path through a dense rainforest. The vantages that are high enough to see a distance around them are above the treetops and the one that are below that level are obscured by growth. He can find the watcher Lorides smells with some effort. There's a lone man in a tree. He has a bow, but he looks more like a hunter or a scout than the leading edge of an army.
Raven, for her part, keeps to where she's been riding, but with half an eye on the trees now. "We talking about the stabby kind of incidents?" she asks. "Or the 'disappear into the woods and never come back' kind, or something else?"
Unsheathed shrugs, in a way that accentuates his weirdly fluid joints. "Whatever they can get away with, I imagine. They have less use for us than we do for them, and we have none."
"Ah." Raven doesn't sound entirely impressed - the irony of riding with people who were basically boogiemen a week ago through a forest of people they're telling some of the same vague stories about is not lost on her - but she drops the subject. "Anything else we ought to keep an eye out for while we're here? Besides great beasties at festivals."
Argalia shrugs. "Normal jungle concerns. Snakes. Heatstroke. Flying insects. I suspect you'll be engaged by priests when we get to the temple who want to talk your ears off."
Brennan takes no overt action. This entire original reason for this little jaunt-- before it became a diplomatic mission-- was reconnaissance.
So Brennan gets as good a look at the hunter, or scout, or decoy as he can just for future reference. Never know when you might need to stir up trouble on someone's flank, and Brennan has a pretty vicious imagination in that regard. This fellow probably isn't the uniformed combatant type, but if he has any markings or ornaments that look like a group affiliation, Brennan will take note.
Aside from that, Brennan mostly studies the Moonriders' response.
The scout has a necklace of what look like miniature tusks. Brennan thinks they're carved rather than remnants of a hunt.
The Moonriders seem to be looking forward to reaching their destination, and not particularly worried about the scout or the dangers of the road.
After a subdued ride of several hours, most of it under observation by the silent scouts in the trees, the jungle ends abruptly at a field. Below is a gentle sloping valley, which looks as if it has been carved out of the raw jungle and which still seems to be the subject of sorties and attacks by the foliage to get back what it has lost. In the middle distance there is a wide silver river like a ribbon laying across the croplands.
Beyond it is a walled city. It looks almost alien to the landscape below, or at least very separate from the town and people below it.
When the group stops, a little past the break between forest and field, Brennan gestures to Tenacity to raise his banner: A pale, slender tower on a pale, slender spire of rock, against a night sky. Out of that night sky, a stylized lightning bolt strikes the top of the tower, setting it ablaze and throwing a shower of embers across the sky. The tower-top blaze is cunningly stitched, appearing sometimes-- if vaguely-- as a human shape jumping to safety, sometimes as a bird with wings out-stretched, other times as simple fire as the drifting winds catch the cloth. The whole is differenced with the symbols of the Order of the Ruby.
The tower is not Fiona's Tower, of course, nor the Silver Towers of Avalon, but carries motifs of both and of neither.
As this has been deemed a diplomatic mission more than a military one, Brennan is armed, but not armored. Instead, he wears a traveller's variation on his typical court garb: Black riding pants tucked into black boots, along with a cardinal red shirt. Over that is a long riding jacket, black on the outside with cardinal red inner lining. There are the occasional silver highlights and threads of silver in the garb, but Brennan has never favored the kind of ostentatious finery that many courts do; he's always preferred to subvert those expectations, converting his status into an exception from that sort of finery.
The only jewelry he wears is the signet ring of the Order of the Ruby on one finger, and a moonstone ring he'd made for Cambina on a fine chain around his neck, under his shirt.
The other Ruby Knights have smaller banners and personal emblems flying as well.
Sir Firumbras nods in approval at the banner. "The Tower," he says, as if the symbol is well known to him. "In the traditional tarot deck of the franks, it was a card of sudden change or an imposition of chaos."
Unsheathed nods. "Not always, of course. It could mean the shift from one ordered modality to another."
They do not have banners, but are neither surprised nor unwilling to ride with knights carrying such.
"The sudden flash of insight," Brennan says. "The disorientation and pain of a new perspective. The will to act on it."
Raven is just listening at this point, and absently still fidgeting a little with the fit of her fancy clothes to get everything settled just right.
Sir Argalia nods. "A fitting motif for the first children of Amber to visit us in a generation or more. No matter how lightly you enter our society, it will seem to be all those things, except we will retain the choice on how to respond to the new information you bring us like a lightning bolt."
Sir Unsheathed looks a Raven's banner. "And I know what your emblem represents, but if we were to assign your banner's symbology as a part of the theme, I would suggest a correspondence to the Wheel of Fortune, which is thematically related to Sir Brennan's"
Sir Firumbras laughs. "The Tower Knight and The Wheel Knight. Most appropriate. A pair representing change as both hopeful and terrible."
Lorides laughs as well. It's a slightly disturbing sounds.
"Well, it wasn't picked to be thematic," Raven says, with a snort of amusement, "but I know my story and there ain't a way to claim that the Wheel of Fortune wouldn't fit some of it with a straight face, so I'll take it."
Brennan hasn't got much to say about the Moonriders' interpretation of his banner-- he originally adopted it, the particulars based around the card lore that Brand drilled into him, as something of a personal aspiration, rather than a message carried to others. But if the Moonriders want to apply it to themselves, or take it as a message, he won't take issue with it.
He does approve of Raven's banner and garb, and maybe even of the Moonriders' interpretation of it. He nods that approval when she can see it and they mostly can't.
Brennan starts the group forward at a measured pace, letting the inhabitants of the walled city get a good leisurely look at them. This place, too, Brennan invests in being able to return.
The city is in service to the monastery, which is surrounded by outbuildings and plazas. The city seems somewhat detached from the monastery, as if they have different purposes.
"Cobra's Hood Temple," says Sir Unsheathed. There is a party riding out from the monastery. They have no banners, but each bears a shield with a unique blazon on it.
"We have a welcoming committee," replies Sir Argalia. "I see the Eldest's Shield amongst them."
The welcome party approaches, and stops far enough away to speak freely. "Hail, travelers. Who comes to Cobra's Hood Temple?"
Before anyone can answer, Firumbras stands tall in his saddle atop Lorides. "I yclept Firumbras, son of Balam, brother to Floripas, and friend to Orolando the Mad. I am told you consider me your long lost ancestor, but have a prophecy of my return."
"Rejoice, my Kinsmen, in the fulfillment of prophecy."
The one named 'Eldest', bearing as his shield a simple ladder leading to a cloud, is momentarily surprised.
"How can this be? No, we will discuss it at the Temple. Who, then, Sir Firumbras, are your companions? We know only our kin amongst them."
Firumbras nods. "Please friends, introduce yourselves."
Brennan likewise stands in his stirrups. "I am named Brennan, son of Brand, grandson of King Oberon and Queen Clarissa, nephew and ambassador of King Random of Xanadu, Knight Commander of the Order of the Ruby, sometimes called the Tower Knight. If I am also called friend by Sir Firumbras, then that too is an honor worthy of note." Brennan doesn't call out with his battlefield voice, nor does he augment it with sorcery. But his voice has a way of carrying when it is necessary.
Raven will follow suit with standing up in the stirrups - and the volume, since this isn't exactly the time to shout like she's yelling at someone on the other end of a deck. And if it's a little on the deliberate side because she has to think her way through how to say what needs saying, well, so be it. "I am named Raven, of the family of King Oberon of Amber and King Random of Xanadu, and kin to Sir Brennan. I am an ambassador for King Random, captain of the Vale of Garnath, a ship in Their Majesties' Navy, and sometimes called the Wheel Knight. I am also humbled by the honor of Sir Firubras's friendship."
"And I am Lorides," says Lorides. "Sir Lorides, the Horse Knight," he adds, giving himself a previously unknown promotion. No one contradicts him.
The knights amongst the welcome party bow, from the saddle, moving in ways that backs just generally don’t, amongst less plastic humans.
"I am Sir Hydrargyrum, eldest of the knights in service to the Temple, and master thereof. We extend hospitality to the Ambassador Knights and all in the party of Sir Firumbras, the progenitor."
"I am humbled by the honorific, Eldest, but I must tell you I have not yet progenitated. My descendants here have some hope that you can send me back to my own time."
Sir Hydrargyrum blinks. "I think we will need to discuss this more fully. What you ask is not a thing we have done before."
"Well met, Sir Hydrargyrum. We accept your most gracious hospitality with thanks." Brennan says. "It would seem, then, that there is much to discuss. To this, let us add the skirmishes near Xanadu and Avalon, and certain other recent events. The details, I think, may wait for a more formal setting."
"Aye," Raven agrees. "Or at least one more formal than the road."
"Then, you are well-come to the Temple. It has been some years since your kith and kin have visited us, but it is not an unheard of event." He looks at Firumbras, who is. "Your friendship with our progenitor is an auspicious sign."
He looks across at the battlements of his castle. "Not all will be pleased to see you, but as guests of the Temple, you have our parole of the grounds and the town. Flying Dagger, please return and prepare for our arrival."
A knight with a dagger on his shield nods and rides off. He is definitely taking liberties with space and time to move so fast.
The castle is composed of arches that would be graceful if they didn’t seem to loom over the town. Brennan and Raven get the feeling that the castle is more to protect the army from the inhabitants more than it Is to protect the inhabitants of the town from invaders. It’s the kind of castle invaders build, not the kind they invade. It is very tall.
Sir Hydrargyrum seems most interested in talking to Sir Firumbras. The younger knights mainly stay back, and are polite, but will defer to Sir Argalia and Sir Unsheathed.
Brennan imposes additional restrictions on the Knights of the Ruby, as well as Sir Severity and his people: They are not to travel to town without either Brennan or Raven accompanying them until further notice. And even in the castle, they are not to venture out in groups of less than three. He does not tell them to remain on their best behaviour because he does not need to-- it is understood.
Raven was maybe only listening with half an ear to Brennan's instructions until her name was mentioned, but once she clocks that she might have to escort a group at some point, she quickly scans faces and counts heads to herself and then gives Brennan a quick nod of acknowledgement.
The knights are all on alert and Brennan thinks they're likely to sleep in shifts. Brennan does not think they are at all comfortable with going into the heart of the Moonriders' most holy site.
Turning back to the Moonriders, whichever seems likeliest to answer but hoping for Sir Hydrargyrum, Brennan asks if there any special customs, etiquette, rituals, etc that they need to know about as visitors.
And Raven is very interested in that information as well.
Sir Hydrargyrum nods. "As honored guests, we will provide for you, and attempt to meet your needs. If you visit the town and there are any issues, just ask for me and we will sort it out. I am your sponsor. As you are ambassadors, we will treat with you as we would with your Kings."
He doesn't elaborate on what that means.
Ever Practical, Patience asks "Do we need to extend the same rules to 'Sir' Lorides?"
Brennan addresses Dame Patience and 'Sir' Lorides both: "An excellent question. Sir Lorides has neither submitted to our authority nor asked for our protection. What say you, Sir Lorides?"
Raven turns her attention to the self-proclaimed Horse Knight, definitely not wondering who's going to be sleeping in the stable to make sure he won't be wandering the grounds solo as she does. "And if those rules don't suit," she adds, "are there others that'd suit better that we ought to talk about?"
Lorides keeps his eyes on the road he's walking along. "As a friend and traveling companion to Sir Firumbras, I feel that I am a unique case. And honestly, while you have been decent companions, I am more of a neutral horse-of-arms than you, and thus am less likely to find trouble, unless I offend their Gods."
He shakes his head. "Let us call ourselves peers, then and neither of us is subordinate to the other."
Sir Hydrargyrum looks at the horse. "Do you have another form to shift to or should we magically lighten your step to allow you to walk lightly through our halls?"
"I will shift, if it is required of me," says Lorides.
He hasn't really mentioned any shifting talents before.
"Didn't know you could change shapes, Sir Lorides," Raven remarks. "But it ain't like I've been in your company long. What form do you prefer when you're not a horse, if you don't mind me asking?"
Sir Hydrargyrum looks at Raven. "This knight is a demon, Ambassador Raven. Do you not know how to recognize them?"
Lorides looks at Hyrdargyrum. "It's not our name for ourselves, but many call us that. They call each of your peoples that as well. I am most comfortable in an equine frame and it is my primary stress form."
Brennan had long suspected something was up with the talking horse. What, exactly, he didn't know... but definitely something. So it isn't hard to keep his face neutral at this revelation. Although it is, perhaps, telling that he's kept this to himself since they first met over the corpse of a shape-shifted grackleflint.
"So be it," Brennan says, "I have no authority to impose a curfew on Sir Lorides that he does not wish to abide. But I trust it is understood that you will not bear our likenesses, marks or insignias." He waits pointedly for a response to that.
Lorides nods, a desultory gesture from the big horse. "Certainly not. I have no wish to cause trouble. For you."
Brennan smiles broadly, and there's a more than usual resemblance to Bleys as he says, "Sometimes the best way to avoid trouble is to spell out the expectations."
Brennan is prepared to let the matter stand there-- Lorides is his own responsibility. Not that Brennan would necessarily let him twist in the wind; so far the horse has done him no detectable wrong other than being shady. But he had the chance to form a closer mutual association and turned it down, which leaves Brennan with a much greater degree of latitude.
And Raven mentally crosses the talking horse off her list of people that are kind of her responsibility.
And Raven mentally crosses the talking horse off her list of people that are kind of her responsibility.
Raven nods to Sir Hydrargyrum. "Sir, I'm new to this whole world-walking on purpose thing. There's a lot I don't know. In this case, I was more asking in the name of not having the 'who's this strange person inside the walls?' moment in the middle of something going on. If there's a better way, I'm listening."
"Demons are difficult to identify, but there are ways. I can provide you a monograph on the subject from the Asir People. They are mostly wrong, but sometime correct. Also consider that many demons," he looks at Lorides, "many demons wish to deceive as part of their goals, so that it is not always trivial to identify them. Asking another demon is one way." Lorides nods. "But the best way is to hear them speak. Demons have magics to allow them to speak, and if your will is strong enough, you can see through the translation that makes their mouths move. If you cannot read a creature’s lips, it may be a demon." Sir Hydrargyrum has a lot more advice on demon-finding.
It's possible that the description might also apply to Raven. She haven't checked.
"Or you could just be very bad at lip-reading," Raven says with dry amusement. She will politely listen to whatever else Sir Hydrargyrum has to share about demon-finding, for certain values of "politely listen" that include "throwing anything else as useful as 'just ask someone that might be here to deceive if they're a demon' into the same mostly-forgotten mental corner as all the other 'useful' 'advice' she's gotten over the years," anyway, and when he winds down, says, "Thanks, Sir. I'll try and keep that in mind the next time I meet somebody I think ain't quite what they seem."
He smiles and says "Of course, it is my role to disseminate knowledge." He turns back to Sir Firumbras to ask that knight more questions.
The group arrives back at the temple complex. It seems in many ways like a fortress against the town. Their horses are stabled by grooms who are interested in them, except for Lorides, who goes into a stall and does not come out as a horse.
He is, in human form, a tall, thin man with a pencil-thin mustache and slicked-back hair. He's dressed casually and his body has a number of obvious scars on it.
The Knights take little notice of his form and they all are led to a suite of rooms, and offered the opportunity to rest before the evening meal. The rooms are all on the same hall, so the group can easily find each other. The Moonriders Brennan and Raven came in with are housed elsewhere.
Brennan takes note of the architecture with what he hopes is a neutral professional interest. He's also curious about the staff-- the aforementioned grooms, any equivalents of pages, minders, etc. Are they the same double-jointed people as Firumbras and the other moonriders, or are they a separate people?
They are not double-jointed. They have a wide range of phenotypes but are on the whole darker skinned with more and curlier hair. It would be hard to mistake a moonrider for one of their servants, even if they weren't moving.
Is Lorides in the same area as Brennan, Raven, and the rest of the Knights? If yes, is he keeping to himself or mixing with the Knights?
He is keeping to himself, but he does have a room in this hall.
The meal is in a communal dining facility and the room is very full. It seems everyone who could arrange to be here did so, for a chance to see Sir Firumbras. Or, perhaps, to see the legendary Knights of Amber who accompanied that legendary hero. The food is simple fare; bread and grains with meat in them. It’s not bad, but not an ostentatious welcoming feast.
The knights and their guests do not speak much during the meal, but afterwards is another story.
Sir Hydrargyrum stands first. "My friends, guests, and fellow followers of the way of truth, I am no longer eldest, and by quite some time. Rumor and prophesy have come together this evening and the progenitor, Sir Firumbras, walks amongst us. Freed from his time-tossed prison by the knights of the King of Amber and Xanadu. Two such knights have accompanied him in his return to our lands."
He pauses. "You all know the stories, or the legends, but fewer may know of the prophecies. We have a debt that cannot be repaid to Sir Firumbras, for all that we are. I ask your assent, in this chapter, to embark on the great mission we have before us.
"My brothers, shall we return Sir Firumbras to his own time?"
The roar of agreement from the assembled Moonriders is immediate.
Sir Lorides looks across at Brennan and Raven. "You know there’s not a chance they can succeed, right?"
"No, I don't know that, actually. I have first hand experience with their manipulations of time and space-- and other styles-- and if I had to single out the group with the highest chance of success, this would be it especially if their Marshal takes part. What makes you think otherwise?" Brennan asks-- and he is genuinely curious what Lorides is seeing that he isn't.
Raven shrugs a little. "Not at all sure I understand any of the time stuff," she admits. "Other than maybe thinking that from what they were saying earlier, it seems like getting him back then would involve somebody at the other end of time hauling him there, not somebody on this end of time shoving him back? Ready to be told I'm thinking about it too simply, though."
Lorides shrugs. "It's a matter of scale. They can throw people back years, possibly a lifetime, and a long lifetime at that. But he's from thousands of years in their past. If this eldest throws him back a few centuries, how does that benefit him? He needs more of a lift than these poor mortals can manage."
Raven frowns slightly. "So it ain't that you think it can't be done - just that you think it can't be done by them, or at least not without help from - who?"
Lorides shrugs. "Nobody. Maybe himself, or someone as old as all that who is also one of their time wizards. I watched how you travel, and how they do. Your power engages with senses, and is affected by your interaction with them. If they were unreliable or missing, or if you wanted to go to place that relied on a color your eyes couldn’t see, could you do it? How would you know, It depends on what you can sense."
The sometime horse pokes at his food, and seems most fond of the meats, which are not typically horse food. "Likewise, the Moonriders slide along their own timelines, backwards, mostly, so they relive certain events. They get more powerful the older they get, by the way, but they also age faster than regular linear time people if they do a lot of backsliding. They all have a zero point.
"Can they do it? I would wager against it, if I had any way to measure and collect it. Most likely they will send him to the past and he will die there and they will celebrate their feat.
"I wouldn't care, except he seems a decent sort, for a human. Or demi-god, whatever he is."
Brennan, who in a past life made good money by confusing any issue that happened to be at hand, asks, "But whose lifespan is the limiting factor here? The Eldest?" Raven and Lorides can almost hear the air-quotes around that one-- Brennan wouldn't be surprised if he ended up being older than the Eldest. "The Marshal? Firumbras himself? The Queen?" He lets that last one sink in and then follows up with, "But why are you telling us, not Sir Firumbras directly?"
Raven clearly has another question, but she doesn't ask it for the moment.
Lorides shrugs. "What makes you think I haven't?" He doesn't wait for Brennan to answer.
Brennan wasn't going to dignify it with a response anyway.
"I will, at an appropriate time, but I think he really wants this and knowing it won't work won't stop him. Just kill him. Not sure he wants to live now, and the hope of going back is important to him. Would you tell him it's a bad plan?"
"If I become convinced that it's true, yes I will," says Brennan. "But understand that he left behind not just a life, but a love. What would you have me do, tell him to abandon that hope on a hunch?
"Something else to consider, though, is that the Moonriders seem to know the end of his saga, and that it includes his being returned to his proper time and place. I was there when the Moonriders sang that saga, before we set out on the journey that led through you to here, and while I'm a naturally suspicious type, I don't have any reason to think they made it up out of whole cloth. It wouldn't be the first time prophecy has been misunderstood, but there's reason to think that he does eventually return home. If I were in his place, I'd need something more than a hunch. But," he lowers his voice a bit, "since I am a naturally suspicious type, I think one of our tasks here will be to research the legends and prophecies, so we can look at them with fresh eyes, instead of eyes constrained by tradition."
He glances at Dame Jennet to make sure she notes that as her job.
Dame Jennet nods as he is glancing over. She's anticipated that this was her task. She doesn't even look to confirm that he's looking. Brennan may decide that either she's started looking forward in time or he is entirely predictable about some things.
Brennan is perfectly content to be thought predictable in minor matters like this-- it causes some people to think he is predictable in other ways, which is an exploitable flaw.
"Or eyes too full of hope," Raven says, maybe about half to herself. Then, "You said there's a zero point. As in death, or as in they ain't able to go back anymore and have to just go forward to death?"
Lorides looks amused. "Similar, but the other end of the line. Birth. The origin, both mathematically and physically, of the Moonrider Knight in question. If you can move freely along your own timeline, what are the two natural limits? How can they pass him back through 40 generations of themselves? But I have arranged for my doubts to be both checked and expressed to him by someone who may have fresh eyes."
He doesn't elaborate on what he means.
"I can think of several, only some of which depend on the Moonriders having developed their abilities at or shortly after Firumbras' point of departure." Brennan says. But at this point, they're just repeating the same point over and over again, so Brennan decides to shift topics. "Your observations of our methods are keen for someone who's been with us only a short time, though-- have you encountered our Family before? Or other Moonriders?"
Raven is somewhat curious about that as well.
Lorides looks surprised. "You're as close as I've ever come to meeting the creator of everything. Every philosopher, mystic, and deranged cult leader in all time has been fixated on your family, whether they knew it or not. Of course I'm going to watch you closely. Anyone who isn't studying you deeply is either incurious, scared, or lying."
Raven blinks and then frowns. "Aye, that makes sense, but now I'm wondering who you think is the creator of everything...? If every philosopher, mystic, and cult leader's got their own idea of us, what's yours?" A beat, and then she shrugs. "I mean, if it ain't rude to ask."
Lorides leans in. "I suspect the Universe was an accidental byproduct of something that wasn't supposed to do what it did, and that your family has been 'winging it' since then."
He pauses, just for a moment. "How else could it be? There's no way to have historical precedent for inventing order."
Brennan shrugs, non-committal. He doesn't believe that, but there are elements that are close enough-- he is coming to believe that Oberon's descendents being able to walk the Pattern was not anticipated-- the he chooses not to comment.
Raven just snorts softly and shakes her head, both because she's not sure what kind of answer she was expected and because at this point, 'your family has been winging it,' seems... just enough on the nose to be faintly amusing.
"What about Qidan," Brennan asks? "Does that spring from the same source, or something else entirely?"
Lorides snorts. It's the most horse-like thing he's done, even in horse-form. "I don't believe he crossed primal chaos, because how would one cross that and return? Perhaps some eddy in the the fabric of reality was chaos-like. I suspect Qidan could not exist or exist in a form that was influenced by this reality if it wasn't descended from this reality." Lorides turns to Raven. "Or just consider me a skeptic, if you want the short version."
"Good evening, Sir Hydragyrum," he says. "My thanks, and the thanks of my knights for your excellent hospitality."
"Aye," Raven says, "And my thanks as well."
The Eldest has a circle of lesser priests around him. Students or Assistants, perhaps, but definitely his retinue. "Please, call me Quicksilver, it is less formal and suits me better. It has been a generation since your people came through here, and is an event of note. If my brothers had provided more notice, the hospitality would have been better."
"Your hospitality is excellent, Sir Quicksilver," Brennan says. He adopts the name so smoothly it is as if he had never heard the earlier name. "Please, do not think too harshly of your brothers-- we left them little opportunity to provide that notice." He does not elaborate on that. "I think we have quite the agenda for this visit. Will you be acting as our diplomatic counterpart?"
Brennan glances around the retinue, storing away faces for later use, though not obtrusively so. Which one-- if any-- looks to be the one assigned to being quiet, unnoticed and watchful?
Raven nods in general agreement.
"It's an interesting question. I am here and I have seniority, but I am not currently in the military order, as I have retired. The Priesthood hears that the Knighthood will defer to it in matters of diplomacy, but I would expect that a consultative approach would prevent a commander taking things into their own hands. The Queen has jurisdiction over all, but she is not available." He seems more matter-of-fact about that than the Moonriders were.
"So in sum, the answer is 'yes, probably, unless I am not.'" He smiles. "We are not the well-organized polity that your cities are. Eventually, it will come down to the Marshall."
He leans in. "I might have kept that from you, but I prefer not to engage in a-walk-in-the-woods diplomatically, and lead you astray or waste your time. We can agree to whatever we can agree to, and the Marshall will evaluate as he sees fit.
"And he needs to answer to his chapter house, so my goal is to negotiate an agreement that will suit all parties, so that we don't have to worry about dissenters."
"An unenviable position," Brennan says, with some measure of real sympathy. He has enough to grace not to say that he expected parts of that, and is skeptical about another. "Is the Marshall currently in residence, or is he in the field?"
Quicksilver shakes his head. "Were he here, he would have been at the dinner tonight, to honor Sir Firumbras. Word has been sent to him. I'd expect him in less than a ten-day. I suspect Firumbras will do more to summon him than your surprising arrival, but we can take advantage of it. I hope to have something to propose to him before his arrival."
"Maybe, maybe not. I am, after all, here on the Marshall's invitation," Brennan says, although there's a twist to his voice signifying a private joke or a private irony. "But this poses certain difficulties, as I expect the Marshall to be returning with at least one hostage."
Brennan delivers that absolutely deadpan and lets it rest a beat to see if Quicksilver already has the same information, before letting the rest of it drop: "Queen Vialle of Xanadu. You will of course understand that I require to meet and speak to her before I consider anything to be final. In fact, I find it difficult to begin the process without such a meeting. But we can make a good faith attempt. Should we begin formally right now, or make a clean beginning tomorrow morning?"
"That whole hostage thing is far from simple," Raven adds, "and we heard there was a little bit of a skirmish with a cousin of ours when the Marshall got his hands on her. So if he's the kind of man who might take that a bit personally - and of course you'd know that better than us - he may not be as excited to see us as you folks are."
"I'm sure it will be worked out satisfactorily. Who knows? It might even make our leaders more receptive to a bold solution. It adds enough urgency and gravity to the discussions that a breakthrough is not out of the question."
He turns to Raven. "The Marshall is likely to remember un-knightly behavior, but does not expect all warriors he meets to follow his personal code. A warrior who fights honorably for his King is a peer, and an enemy by happenstance. He would remember a battle with fondness, not enmity."
Sir Quicksilver turns back to Brennan. "If these are informal talks to establish points of acceptable mutuality, we can begin informally as soon as you like. In the morning if you need rest, or now if you wish.
"Do you have a broad idea of what an agreement between us that might be acceptable to both sides would consist of?"
"I'm sure our cousin Edan carried himself with honor," Brennan says.
He strays from the topic for a moment: "And I would prefer to begin in the morning, at the earliest. When I last met the Marshall, he disparaged the passing down of historical knowledge from one generation to the next, among our Family. In my case, at least, he was not entirely wrong. I consider this journey an opportunity to expand our knowledge, and so I ask for access to your archives subject to whatever limitations you place on that-- some of the Knights of the Ruby are scholars in their own right, and so I ask on their behalf as well. And I understand there is a monastic order or branch in residence as well.
"As for a mutually satisfying agreement, no, I do not. Too much will depend on our examination of the Queen to propose even a tentative commitment. But let us list the various agenda to be discussed," Brennan says, returning to the point. "First, your attempts to access the city we call Tir-na Nog'th and areas near similar cities and the Faiella Bionin. Second, the disposition of hostages and similar actors, including but not necessarily limited to the Queen and First-to-the-Fray.... who I understand may have opinions of her own. Third, reparations and assurances regarding attacks on King Random of Xanadu and other members of the Royal Family."
Sir Quicksilver nods. "Good starting points. Access to our Tir and a discussion of spheres of influence are a high priority for our people. Consolidation of areas of aligned interests. Perhaps even dynastic alliance and mutual assistance against some of the more menacing problems we face from truer enemies. We will address these matters tomorrow, and you can consider further tonight."
Brennan nods in understanding of that agenda, if not actually in support of an alliance with the Moonriders.
"I will see if the Marshall can be summoned more quickly. And I will assign you a priest to help you with our archives. Thus you will not be idle waiting for the Marshall."
Brennan's voice is, in this case, not pitched to carry as far as he can make it. Quite the opposite, it's meant for Quicksilver and Raven alone, although one can never be sure.
"Less directly related, there is the matter of Sir Firumbras. There is some concern as to the possibility of his being safely returned to his time from such a vast remove. I would like to understand this process better. And if he decides to go, I would like to assist," Brennan says.
"And I'm more likely to be in the way than of help on that," Raven observes, with a shrug and a bit of amusement. "But I think all of us that traveled with him are curious to see where that goes."
Quicksilver doesn't betray any emotion at this request. Or perhaps he did and then came back in time and corrected himself. "If he consents, I'm sure something can be arranged."
Last modified: 1 January 2023