Hannah wanders back into the infirmary with the baby and the bird riding along, and looks around. She is lighter one prince and one hostage... tourist. She sets down the pack that she didn't need with a sigh.
Kyril is cleaning up, his niece and other helpers are with the Rebmans in a side room. He's busy writing notes on his patients.
He looks up as she comes back. "Find anyone to dismember, Doctor?"
"No, and they took the one prisoner away so quickly I didn't even get a chance to try looking mean. You, doctor?" she asks.
Kyril frowns. "I was once the team doctor for a small-town sports team, and they got lucky and ended up playing for the regional crown against a much better team. The other team wasn't intending to hurt our lads, but they just were out of our class. I keep thinking about that when your cousins let loose. They can't help doing some pretty serious damage when they're not holding back." He keeps frowning. "Not that I want your cousins to get hurt, either."
Hannah nods. "I was expecting more injuries myself. And more prisoners." She doesn't shrug. The implications are too serious to shrug about. "I also think some of these enemies aren't outclassed by my cousins. Not entirely. That should make you frown even more. You're going to get lines - which might be a comfort to your niece. Do you think I could be any help to her in there?"
"Oh, frown lines. I suppose. I'm trying to get her to be a doctor, mostly because I don't want her to be a soldier. She's interested, but it's not clear how good an instructor I'd be." He stops frowning, but can't quite smile. "I don't want to send her back to Pacifica for school, first because it's too much about learning how to be a doctor in Pacifica, and second because I don't want to have fifteen years pass there while she's gone for six months here, and I don't really know how to control for that.
"Anyway, this is all new -- last couple of days she and I talked about this. She's got the assistant mannerisms down, probably too well. So, yeah, it'd be a favor to us if you checked on her. I think she has everything under control, but doing good medicine is such a team effort, and it's hard to teach that in this environment.
"I don't really want to see your family in an even fight. You're hard to treat, because you're so rarely not going to just heal. Delta, the one with the gunshot wound? Wouldn't have been brought to a Doctor in Lauderdale. But I can tell her take it easy tonight and tomorrow and drink plenty of liquids, like she's got a hangover and it's good advice."
He looks up, and looks like he hasn't been getting enough sleep. "Sorry, I was hoping I'd retired from being a wartime doctor. It's reminding me of some very ugly experiences."
Hannah nods. "You're allowed to retire, you know. At least from that part. We yank at you because we think you're competent, but you don't have to do this. When I was in medical school, our Dean, who was also our Surgeries and Amputations Professor, he was there teaching because he couldn't work with living bodies anymore. There had been a war... over slavery. A righteous war, if there is such a thing. But he told me working with the dead -- and us, all women, learning to be doctors -- helped quiet the battlefield memories. And where I came from, he was something of a hero to us, because so many men refused to teach women. I admired him... a bit more than a married lady should have. Xanadu could use a medical school. Just something to think about. The lives you save multiply by every pair of hands you teach." She pats his arm as she walks by to head into the other room.
"Wait, who is Delta, and how bad was the gunshot wound?"
Kyril nods along with her. He's starting to recover his equilibrium and demeanor.
"Delta? She's another one of Random's neices, I gather. Just more than a grazing shot through her lower left abdomen, didn't hit any organs. That she took it well enough is pretty good evidence that she's one of tou. I swear to -- who do you all swear by? Lir? Anyway, I swear by Lir that I almost said 'take two aspirin and call me if you don't feel better in the morning'."
He looks at her. "I'm sorry your teacher had that experience and I'm personally benefitting from his self-prescribed trauma response. I'll talk to the King about a Medical College. That's a good idea."
Hannah grins. "Well, that's one today."
Kyril grins back. He's either lost his mood or he's faking it. "Don't scare it away! It's probably lonely in this castle...."
She heads next door to check on Allie and the Rebmans.
Allie is working next door, with the Rebmans, who are talking amongst themselves. In the way of convalescents everywhere, they are gossiping to pass the time.
Allie greets her, with perhaps too much of a grin than a professional nurse might offer. "Hello, Doctor." She looks confused. "Uncle Kyril wants me to try to use formal medical titles, but they keep getting mixed up with royal titles in my head. I almost called Prince Gerard 'My Lord Doctor'."
The makeshift ward is in decent order, and Allie is making notes. Apparently that's a lot of Kyril's method for teaching.
"I'm not sure that 'My Lord Doctor' is even wrong. It might be right." She shrugs. "The other thing to do is ask him what he prefers when he's doctoring. I was known among my people for many years as 'Dr. Hannah', which annoyed some people in our nation because one didn't call doctors who were men "Dr. Kyril" but always used their surnames. I didn't care because it made the children less afraid of me. So without looking at everything you wrote down, try to tell me the situation among this cluster of cases as succinctly as possible without leaving out important things. And don't worry, this isn't a test. It's practice."
There is a firm knock at the door to the parlor.
"Hold that thought," Hannah says.
Hannah reaches back and opens the door. She's clearly expecting it to be a page, based on the height of her gaze and surprised grin. "Cousin, come on in. What can we help you with?"
Pen is wearing a garment similar to one of Sir Robin's, but it's pinned in places to try to fit properly. In her right hand, she is firmly grasping a half-full ornate bottle, at her belt on the left side are two sturdy drinking glasses, crossed at their wide stems. Her left hand is clasped tight around something. She seems to have been crying, and a little drunk, but she's attempting (and failing) to disguise the crying.
"I apologize for this interruption, cousin. How curious a word is that, "cousin"? We might've just been strangers yesterday." She shakes her head a second, and the cobwebs a little.
"I had the good fortune of being looked after by Medic Sherrell at Warden Julian's camp in Arden. Remarkable healer. She did not want me to leave as quickly as I did," Pen stops to take a breath. "You see, we were ambushed at the fire lilies," Pen pauses a moment thinking back on that battle in the firelight. "So many rangers were lost. Half of the recruits. They were outmatched." The facade hiding the tears disappears as they slowly slip down her face. If you look in Pen's eyes, she's back in dark, surrounded by death. "It was twice my size, with a heavily-muscled frame, clad in brigantine, no weapons (maybe it thought it didn't need them) but with the monstrous head of a ram, and terrible horns, red with gore, with legs terminating in giant hooves. It charged me from my far left, out of the dark, shoulder first, clad with an enormous stylized dragon pauldron. It blindsided me completely, and collided with my head at the speed of a team of horses at full gallop. The wind left my lungs with a quickness as the ram-thing sent me reeling across the camp, spinning onto the ground. There was blood in my eyes and in my mouth and in my hair and I should've fallen unconscious, but I went mad instead. I gasped trying to get my breath back, the pain in my ribs screaming, and I was surprised that the coup de grace didn't follow. I half-expected to see ram horns run through my chest, but after taking a few long, deep painful breaths, I heard the beast giving orders to the soldiers. It must have a rank in the Dragon's army, and assumed I was dead."
"That was a mistake," Pen says, as she opens the lid of the bottle, grabs a glass at her belt, pours and takes a swig. She unloops the other glass, and deftly pours and offers it to Lady Hannah.
Hannah, focused very much on the story, takes the glass and then hands it off to Allie. She'll also deftly, without aggression, take the bottle, and hand that off as well. She then slips off her pack and sets it against the wall. She attempts to lead Pen to a seat, and sits across from her, if she'll sit.
Pen offers no resistance relinquishing the bottle and taking a seat across from Hannah.
"I had fought carefully before and patiently, choosing my shots with the other soldiers. That time has passed. Rage coursed through my veins as I got to my feet and let my anger wash over me and light up my nerves like fire.
"There was certainly pain, ache, and blood, and I knew there would be so much more, but for the moment all of that was still. I charged the ram-beast as fast as I could and once I was within three yards of it, I jumped and landed on its back. My hands grabbed the horns and my legs slipped around its immense neck. The beast spun, confused and desperate to remove the crazed thing squeezing the air out of its trachea. It swung its head wildly in hopes of expelling the threat, but I was not so easily thrown. I squeezed my legs even tighter, my boots hooking into an unbreakable lock and the beast began to stagger. It swung its fists, punching behind it and I felt those heavy blows through the rush of rage. 'The bruises are going to be colorful', I said to myself as each mighty hammer blow was a little lighter than its predecessor. Finally, the beast fell to the ground, unconscious, and I rode it down."
"Rangers Vista and Nails saved my life. They helped me to my horse, Melanippe, and they watched over me til we reached Medic Sherrell in Arden. My ribs were aching, so many bruises and cuts, and one eye swollen closed. I slept three days in her care, and survived a fever."
Pen catches her breath. "All this to say, I may have overestimated my ability to ignore this brush with death. I'm a soldier and an Amazon. We're taught from childhood not to show weakness or fear, but I tell you, cousin," and her voice falters, "I feel a little weak and afraid." Pen tries to compose herself a little. "Could I ask you to examine my wounds?"
"Of course. There is nothing weak about you, and fear is an instinct of preservation whether you show it or not. How long ago would you estimate you received the initial blow to the head?"
Pen looks down a minute and concentrates. "Four, maybe five days. Some of it's a blur."
Pen looks down at her left hand, "Oh, and a question. I was speaking to the librarian, Nestor, and he thought you might recognize this woman?" She opens her hand to reveal a beautiful disc of polished brass. As she flips it, a flat smooth stone is visible with a painting of a tall, broad-shouldered woman with blonde hair. "That's my Mother, Myrina. I haven't seen her for many years. Nestor thought she reminded him a bit of Ysabeau and thought I might ask you."
Hannah's focus shifts to the image. "I have never seen an image of Ysabeau," she admits. "They do describe her a bit that way, though. Surely Gerard has one though. We will have to ask him in a bit. Now, I ask this for a reason, not to be rude or judgemental - have you ever cried without the assistance of alcohol?"
"Gerard was the man in the chair that brought me through, I think. I like him. A serious countenance, but kind eyes. Broad shoulders and fit. He seemed a good man."
Pen pauses, considering Hannah's question carefully. "My people cry for the dead, that is to say, we cry for ourselves and those that we've lost. I was going to tell you that I've cried many times without alcohol, but as I think of it now, I know it's not true. It feels like forever since I've seen my sisters, my friends, and my love... Life is changing so quickly, and I'm not sure who I am anymore."
The tears begin again.
Hannah pulls her chair forward so she can hold Pen, motioning for Allie to let them have space. "I know exactly how you're feeling. I have not been here too very long, but I have had some things to hold on to that define me. I am a physician -- you are a warrior. This is who we are. You are just a warrior who has had a big clunk on the head and a near death experience. If you were not in tears and confused, then I would know there was something very wrong with you. Now you are here and there is a lot to take in and learn and adjust to. I am still in tears regularly. The drinking, in my limited experience, is often part of the culture of warriors, who must either put away their feelings while killing or learn to revel in them. Either way, it is a doorway to letting your feelings out, but it's not good for someone who has had a head injury to confuse their brain further with alcohol. You're strong enough to learn how to open the door to grief without hurting yourself further. The easiest way is just to talk to someone safe. I am happy to be someone safe. No one else needs to know what you say to me."
Pen looks grateful and docile.
She doesn't let go, but she does pat Pen's shoulder. "So, until I know you well enough to evaluate you properly, I don't want you taking the Pattern. I'm sure there is going to be pressure because other people will be doing it, and because it will give you the power to go home - you could even go directly home, from what I understand, bad idea though that might be. But the King said to me, when I felt I had to go home, that home is never really home anymore, once you've left like we have. I knew the wisdom of his words but I still had to go, and find out who lived among my kin. And though it broke my heart, that journey brought me wonderful things too. It closed a loop I needed closed. Though I still grieve my mothers and my siblings and the life I might have had, my father was able to come back with me. You'll get the chance to go home in time, but you need to be patient, because the ritual is brutal physically and emotionally, and it can kill you. You need to be fully healed to do it. I've now had a baby, and I still say walking the Pattern was harder - and I was fully rested before doing that, unlike the hundred hours I was awake before labor started. Oh, and I'm over here talking to you quietly about it because we don't really talk about it outside the family, because of the people who had our other cousins. It can be used to hurt us too."
"I will choose to wait on the Pattern ordeal until I'm healthy and grounded. I'm sorry for the loss of your Mother and siblings."
Hannah grins at the thought of her... "Mothers. My clan was-- is--," she makes a tilting gesture with her hand, "still somewhat involved in the practice of polygamy. The powers that were didn't like it. Thank you. My siblings could still be alive, but it had been many years since the time I'd disappeared before I went back and it seemed too much, to try to explain who my... who Ysabeau was and why I hadn't come back sooner and... everything. But to lose the connection is like losing them anyway. That's part of what you're already sad about too - all the lost time and the space it creates between people."
Hannah reaches over and takes a bandage to let Pen wipe her face with. "Now I want to poke at you and see what hurts. Are you very drunk, or just drunk enough? I need to know so I know how hard to poke."
"I think I am just drunk enough. I will help to guide you to my pain." Pen sighs, "At some point, I would like to see your baby. I love babies. That smell only lasts so long, but it's like nothing else I've known."
"Hah," Hannah laughs, "here." She steps over to the pack she set down earlier and sets it in Pen's lap. Swaddled quite tightly is a dark little newborn's face. "You can undo his lacings and get him out. He'll likely want to eat soon, anyway. He's had quite the day himself, thrust into a new place that's not comfortable or entirely comprehensible." (He's in a cradleboard, something like those following. Heavily beaded, with the flat board top, and just enough curve that it can rock.) "This raven is called Heckle. He can understand you. Use care when making deals with him. Heckle, this is, uh, well, I missed your name upstairs," Hannah says, just realizing that.
Hannah lets Pen play/deal with the baby while she pulls over a screen.
The raven hops from foot to foot and bobs in what might be a bow, if it weren't from a corvid. "Caw," says the bird, sounding for all intents and purposes like someone saying "caw" and not in any way like a raven cawing.
Pen, who is learning to take this peculiar place in stride, pauses a moment to consider and then decides to treat the bird that doesn't exactly sound like a bird, like both a bird and a baby. She begins cooing at it, and gently stroking its feathers. "He's such a handsome boy."
The crow bobs his head. "Who, the baby? I guess. He won't really look like anyone for a few months to a year, right? And then he'll look like his grandfather. Hopefully the good-looking one."
Hannah snorts.
Heckle looks Pen up and down. "The story about Apollo is totally false, in case you were wondering."
Pen blinks and side-eyes the bottle that Lady Hannah had gently confiscated. "It's possible I had more to drink than I thought."
Pen shrugs and addresses the crow, "Let me see if this is the story that you mean. In my people's faith, Apollo and Coronis, a Thessalian princess, beget the god of medicine, Asclepius. It's said that when she was pregnant, Apollo appointed a white crow to guard her, and in time that crow discovered that she was cheating on him with a mortal man named Ischys and the crow told Apollo. The Sun God was distraught so his sister Artemis, offended for her brother, slew Coronis with her bow, but saved the baby, and Zeus slew Ischys because he wasn't going to let that go. Apollo in his anger and grief scorched the crow from white to black."
"Yep. You're dressed like them, so I figured you knew that story. Utter codswallop."
He hops on the table. "My ancestor, Foresight, also known as Rainbow Crow, went to fetch the Creator's gift of fire to the world, saving all from the idea of winter, which the Creator could not unthink. She saved all the animals, but in doing so scorched her own feathers.
"Apollo needs his tail pulled, as we say."
She turns her attention from the bird to the doctor.
Hannah looks a little disturbed at this story.
"Lady Hannah, I am ready for your examination."
Hannah nods. "Right. Allie," she calls, "will you come assist?"
Allie looks up and puts down the chart she has for the archivists and comes over.
To Pen, she says, "I'm going to need you out of these clothes. Would you like Heckle and the baby to sit on the other side of the screen?"
Pen begins to remove her clothing as soon as she hears, "need you out of these clothes." She responds, "Modesty is not a concern."
Hannah conducts a toes up exam, looking not just for contusions but for any bones that are healed a bit off or not yet fully healed from a fracture, signs of ongoing internal bleeding, and what concussion assessment she can manage at this late date. "Did Medic Sherrell say whether you had coughed up any blood or not? Or had any bleeding from the ears?"
Pen thinks hard. "She did not speak of either thing to me, but I was up and around sooner than she wanted. I needed to speak with Warden Julian. As I said, I know there was a fever and I slept for three days. I remember having blood in my mouth and running into my eyes from when I received that initial hit to the head that threw me across the field."
Allie takes notes.
Hannah swipes the notepad from Allie, and pulls her into the exam. She shows her how to feel for broken ribs, and even though not finding any, talks about how to wrap them -- or tape them, when that's available -- for all the good that does. How one has to be careful with broken ribs because if a lung is punctured, you can't wrap or tape -- which leads into a quick lecture on how to tell if someone's lung has collapsed or might, and what to do about that, and how to drain a lung that is punctured and filling with liquid. She doesn't hold back from the raw details, and watches how Allie reacts to all this.
Allie takes mental notes. And asks questions. Usually about technology they don't have, unfortunately.
Hannah answers these by talking about the tech she thinks would be useful for the injury were they to be in a high-tech place, and also the visual, auditory (via stethoscope) and via physical manipulation. "When we can't do xrays, this is another way of learning that information.
"You should make a list of technology replacement techniques that could help our higher-tech doctors and nurses integrate into the lower-tech reality we're living in. Might eventually be a book, at say, a medical school. You might also think about 'how could we have that tech here, given the constraints'," Hannah suggests.
As for Pen, she just keeps an eye out to make sure they aren't trying her patience too much.
"Well, I know you'll heal up, I just can't tell how rattled your brain got out there, but your skull and your neck seem normal. Do you want me to explain what happens to your brain when it suffers a concussion? You already know the part where it can leave you in a fog."
Pen takes Lady Hannah's hand in both of hers. "You've been excellent council and a fine healer. I only ask that you keep what I spoke to you to yourself, and since we are kin of a sort, I trust you."
If Lady Hannah will allow, after putting on all her clothing, Pen will give her a gentle hug.
Hannah will hug her. "I will do that, but while the cousins have been better about trusting each other here, it's not... traditional. Assuming trust on kinship is tricky here." Hannah isn't happy about this, but shrugs.
Pen nods. "I am often too trusting. Thank you for the advice, Lady Hannah. The culture I grew up in was built on common trust between all sisters and disputes were addressed openly and fairly. Daughters were raised not just by their mothers, but also by the community. I need to be mindful of where I am now, who I am, and that not every face is an ally by dint of kinship."
"Perhaps the gentleman in the wheelchair may recognize my Mother?"
Allie almost giggles. "The poor Princes. At least the Princesses know who their children are. They must all be wracking their brains and asking 'who did I sleep with thirty years ago?'"
"Or a few hundred years ago -- yeah, it's a strain on the imagination. I wonder if I'll remember my less than a handful of encounters when I'm as old as they are. But then... the princesses who left children with fathers as babies -- how would they recognize a child either? They have the advantage of remembering giving birth. I mean, hopefully." This makes Hannah shrug again.
"Allie, I'm going to abandon you and go make introductions. Send pages around for me if I'm needed, please. I don't plan on leaving the palace."
"Yes, Doctor. None of them were shot, so it should just be rest and observation."
Hannah grins. "Oh, you never know what will happen next. And if anyone brings in Queen Vialle send for me immediately please."
Hannah will reload the baby and put her pack back on, and give Heckle a lift up on her arm so he doesn't have to fly around in this medical area.
Pen is fond of Heckle, and smiles at the baby, though the bird-child is certainly the most peculiar thing she's encountered in the castle.
Once they're out in the hall, Hannah explains, "Gerard is my mother's brother, and was regent in Amber during the wars, while everyone else went to fight. There was an earthquake in Amber -- they call it the sundering -- and that's how he became injured." She pauses and there is something she doesn't say. "He is a very good man -- a kind soul. And protective of the people he loves, and willing to be the disciplinarian for the good of the family, even when he hates it. It is hard for me not to consider Gerard the political chief of the family and Random as the war chief. Or, Gerard as the Maternal Head and Random as the Paternal Head. I'm sure that sounds strange."
"Thank you for this introduction, Lady Hannah. I appreciate you making the time. He sounds like a fair man and one good to know as I get my bearings."
"When I was twelve, I used to help our physicians by gathering certain rare roots, flowers and grasses, weave bandages and collect seaweed, sponges, and plankton that promote healing. I did this not just because I enjoyed helping the healers, but I had seen firsthand what harm comes to people when they get sick or injured, and I couldn't abide suffering." She pauses thoughtfully before continuing, "I had a terrible fall, you see. I was trying to reach a clutch of calendula -- very good for cuts and burns, and sparse on Pontus. I'd overextended myself in a precarious place, and began tumbling down a steep hill out of control. There were many rocks, some jagged in places. lt almost killed me, and it would've if no one had found me fast enough. I spent a full year slowly recovering from my injuries. It was the loneliest year in my life because Mother was away for half of it, but my friends Risto (Aristomache) and Aiella came and visited every day. Sometimes they read to me, sometimes we played games and made up silly little songs and told each other what kind of wild things we'd do when I was well. Aiella was five years my senior and she promised that she would teach me how to ride and we would swim together to the grottos and have adventures, and eventually, we did. She remains the best rider and swimmer I've ever seen. I get my love of horses from her. Risto and I started off as rivals when we were very young, and she used to be a bit of a bully, but she had a big heart and when I nearly died -- I think she was afraid of losing her oldest friend. I used to be a scrawny little thing, but Risto kept challenging me once I was on my feet again to get stronger and faster, and most importantly to not be afraid. It would've been very easy to spend the rest of my days indoors, away from any chance of harm, learning other valuable disciplines. Risto wasn't going to let me do that. She knew I had to get stronger, and that I was meant to be a soldier." Pen reflects with a smile and a sigh, "Ever since my recovery, I've been the kind of person who is always doing something physical: running, riding, swimming, climbing, jumping, lifting, always something. I never participated in our Amazon's athletic competitions, but I helped friends train to compete, and they did very well." She pauses again briefly before this next part. "There was a price for surviving that fall. The physicians said that my womb was badly damaged, and I would never be able to have children. When I was young, I used to dream about having a daughter, or even a son. It took a lot of time to come to terms with that at such a young age, but I did. After my Mother left, there were times I took foolish risks with my life reasoning that there wasn't someone relying on me to survive. It wasn't true of course because I was blessed with many friends, but I could be very foolish."
Hannah gives her a sideways look. "Oh, dear. Well, the good news is, you didn't find this out the hard way. We have an uncle that has regrown his eyes. We might actually need shadow technology to see if your womb is functional at this time, but you should be practicing birth control if you're going to be with a man. Or... anyone who might be able to get you pregnant. Unless you want to get pregnant. Which I will suggest you hold off on until after you've done the ritual, because we have no idea how that kind of physical and mental strain affects a pregnancy."
Pen is a bit staggered. "I hadn't ever considered such a thing to be possible. These are very strange days, indeed."
"That'll give you something to think about, huh? I'd never had a child because my work... is a calling. I didn't exactly plan this one. When I figured out I was pregnant I decided to be a mother and a doctor, and I have gotten very lucky in not having to fight this child's father very much to maintain my freedoms. He has been supportive and creative, which is part of why I like him so much, I suppose." She grins the grin of a woman who isn't quite sure what to do with the feelings that go with those words, somewhat wary.
"When I was young, I married a boy who was supportive of my education and career until he realized I wasn't going to choose the family he envisioned over my work. I tried to compromise. I told him we should get another wife, so there would be someone to take care of a baby, because he wasn't going to be mothering it - he worked too. If I took it to work with me the authorities would take the child away. We were an entrapped people, and the powerful would use any excuse to take our children away, and I was not liked by the other doctors in the community - who were all white men. They felt threatened by the very existence of a 'lady-doctor', much less one who had darker skin than them. They really didn't like it when their patients came to me out of desperation and I made them better." One might call the grin that follows this 'savage'.
"The only physicians I've ever known were women. Huh."
"By then polygomy was technically illegal, so that was a real concern too and he wasn't willing to complicate an already complicated relationship with another woman until we were a 'solid' family. We couldn't get past that, and eventually he left. I still think about him too often, but it only stings a little. It used to burn a hole in my gut, that I couldn't be the wife he wanted. But he couldn't be the husband I wanted either - he loved his notion of a family more than he loved me. And I loved my work more than I loved him. It can never work when no one will reach across the fire - we just kept pulling each other into it for seventeen years. Well, not the whole time... just the five years at the end." She raises her hands and lets them fall, a little helplessly.
"This child's father, who never asked to be a father or make a family, did something last night that... flattened me. He found a way, in the middle of on-coming war, to let me work - even on the battlefield. I knew I enjoyed his company but I wasn't sure we'd do well interacting around the child. And I know, I can already see, that we're going to have differences around how to raise the baby, but he sees me for a whole person, not just an extension of himself... and it sounds small when I say it like that. He'd probably be offended, but it was more than I was expecting. I'm very glad. He's another of our cousins, by the way. I hope that doesn't shock you. Are you - are you from a place where there are only women?"
"That does not shock me. Love is love. It's good that you have an understanding, and I'm sure you'll find a way to navigate any differences in raising such a remarkable child. Concerning the question of are there only women in Pontus, that is a little complicated. It's true that the only population on the island are women, but certain small populations of men are allowed to occasionally visit." She winces a little at this next bit. "There are shared festivals and celebrations, and trade negotiations, but never any immigrations. When an Amazonian citizen decides she would like a child, she finds a consenting mate and explains that if the child is female she will be raised on the island and given a choice when she comes of age if she wants to stay or go. If the child is male, he will be nurtured by the mother for one year and then she will either send him safely to his father or accompany him in exile, at which point she may choose to return someday, but may only return alone. There have been a few operas and plays written about this."
Pen continues, "If a man is injured, he may stay until he is healed enough to travel. If a man stays any longer than allowed by the Queen and her Council, they will be forcibly removed."
"That sounds difficult. What percentage of women leave to stay with a mate, would you say?" Hannah asks.
"I've seen and heard of thirty-two in the course of my life so that would be about six percent of the populace. Only four or five have ever returned. It's a hard choice."
They seem to have arrived at a door. Hannah asks, "Did they all leave to go live with a non-citizen? No one just... left to leave?" She knocks.
"Twelve Amazons left on their own, just to leave and see the world. Two were among those that returned." Pen straightens her jacket and adjusts her cuffs.
"Were there other places where it is just men?" Hannah wonders.
"That's an excellent question. I've never heard of such a place, but I've always wondered. The world was already wide and strange, but given recent explanations by King Random that it's even wider and stranger, I would be surprised if it doesn't exist."
"There must be. My people always had some traditions separated by our chosen paths, just not... everything." Hannah shrugs. She obviously finds the idea of living without men uncomfortable. "What do you do when someone is both? Must they chose to be a woman?"
"You speak of the Gallae. They could choose to live the life that made them happiest. If they preferred to be recognized as male, they could do so, but couldn't stay. If they choose to live as female or as both genders, and respect the traditions of Pontus, they could stay and be a citizen no matter what their genitalia are. Some Gallae choose castration, as they do in Phrygia, but it's dangerous, often leads to health problems and is highly discouraged.
One of the younger pages, one specifically assigned to Gerard, opens the door.
"Doctor Hannah, Prince Gerard was expecting you. Shall I announce you and the lady--?" he looks at Pen, hesitating because he doesn't know her name.
"My name is Captain Pen of the Glorious Cataphracti of Pontus," says Pen to the young page, "and it's a pleasure to meet you."
Constant, a freckle-faced young fellow, bows to Captain Pen. "It's a pleasure, Captain."
"He was expecting me? Well, yes, please do," Hannah says.
Constant escorts them into the living area, where Gerard is sitting with his wife, Corvis, and gives their names. Corvis is slight, with brown hair that's gone mostly to grey, and looks quite a bit older than Gerard--although if what Pen has been told is true, Gerard is certainly the older of the pair. Their conversation must have ceased when Constant went to open the door and announced them.
"Hannah, Pen, do sit down. Tell me how matters went in the infirmary, and then, Pen, I think you'll have a bit to tell us as well." His eyes are keen, but not unkind. "Corvis, I don't think you've met Captain Pen. She's from Pontus, on the far side of Arcadia."
Corvis offers her hand. "I am Corvis, who was Lady of the Isle of the Dannan, but am now retired from that office. I have heard a little of Pontus, and sometime we should speak about it. But not until after we have heard your news."
Pen, in Amazon fashion, extends her hand just past the offered hand, gently clasping beneath the wrist and along the forearm. The expectation is for the other person to reciprocate. This tradition is a sign of openness, respect, and trust. It's said that the only person to ever dishonor this gesture was Heracles.
Afterward, Pen puts her fist to her chest, and bows respectfully to Corvis and then Gerard.
When she rises, she quietly says to Hannah, out of the corner of her mouth, smiling and without moving her lips, "You didn't mention that he's an oracle."
Hannah reacts as if she didn't hear this. She unpacks herself, laying the cradleboard down gently so Heckle can adjust as she starts using it as a rocker. She sits gratefully and ignores how foolish she was being earlier in the day in this very room. "I missed all the action in the infirmary, but everything looks well in hand. I should ask you your impressions of Allison later. But for now," she gestures to Pen, "I believe the Captain should have the floor."
Pen steps forward and addresses both Gerard and Corvis, but more directly Gerard. "I was speaking to the librarian, Nestor, and he thought you might recognize this woman." She opens her hand to reveal a beautiful disc of polished brass. As she flips it, a flat smooth stone is visible with a painting of a tall, broad-shouldered woman with blonde hair. "Her name is Myrina, and she's my Mother. I haven't seen her for several years. Nestor thought she reminded him a bit of Ysabeau and suggested I might talk to Lady Hannah and yourself. Is this someone you've seen before?"
Hannah shrugs and blushes a little at Gerard. "I don't remember ever seeing an image of Ysabeau."
"May I?" Corvis moves to take the stone and examine it.
She and Gerard look at it. Gerard is frowning. It takes them only a little time to come to the same conclusion. "That's not her, lass," Gerard says. "Too big and broad, from the look of her, and her face isn't the right shape. I'm sorry."
Corvis nods her agreement. "She could be a daughter of Ysabeau," Corvis suggests, "but we only knew of three." Corvis turns her attention to Hannah. "I'm sorry; it hadn't occurred to me that you hadn't seen an image of your mother. I'll be right back." She pushes herself up from her chair and goes into one of the private chambers.
Gerard hands the image back to Pen.
"We may need to send for Solange and Robin," Hannah says quietly to Gerard, but not so quietly Pen isn't included. "Ysabeau's ghost spoke to my sisters. I believe they may have asked if there were more children, but I can't remember for certain it came up."
Pen adds, "I've shown this icon to Robin and she did not recognize her. I haven't met the Lady Solange yet."
Hannah nods. "I don't expect them to recognize your mother. I just hope they may know something we don't as they were the last ones to speak with... her." This last comes out tightly. Many things make Hannah unhappy within that sentence.
Gerard sends Constant and Scamp, his two pages, off to find Robin and Solange. "Solange may not come," he says to Hannah, and Pen as well. "Her mother's a sore subject. But Robin's likely to and she was there as well. It never occurred to either of us that you hadn't seen her likeness. Corvis has an icon, but that's not the same as a card, or whatever kind of photography you may have in your homeland. And certainly not the same as her ghost."
"I suppose I should have some idea of what she looks like. I... well, the truth is I was comfortable with the distance until now." Hannah tilts her head at the baby, and then toward Pen. She looks toward Pen, then. "Ysabeau did some things that seem to me antithetical to how I operate in the universe. Solange is no more sore about our mother than I am. We just have very different reasons." Gerard gets a quick look because he knows Hannah doesn't like Solange's behavior around this issue.
"Nonetheless, the moment I lost two mothers and one set of siblings, I gained another mother and another set of siblings. And we've bonded quickly -- they were with me during labor, as was Lady Corvis. And I must respect Ysabeau for at least not trying to raise us herself."
To Pen, he adds, "There's no guarantee she is of Ysabeau's line, but that's our best guess. Blond hair in this family usually means her, or maybe Random. Flora had a daughter, but she claims her daughter was killed, and while she might have been deceived, I wouldn't count on that. And if yer ma is Random's getting, her ma must've been a lot taller."
Hannah shrugs. She's got nothing to add to that.
Scamp, one of Gerard's pages, finds Robin as she's working her way through her list of tasks. "Sir Robin, your uncle Prince Gerard requests your presence for a family matter. He says nothing to worry about, just he and Lady Corvis have something you'll want to see. Lady Hannah and Captain Pen are with him."
"Thank you, Scamp," Robin says as she replaces the Trump of Caine. Just her luck. Robin had been hoping that she could quickly move Lady Morgaine, Lady Laudine and Ywain to their promised locations via the Trump Booth. But on her initial call, Caine had not answered. Her eyes drift to the other Trumps and land on the Trump for Amber. Robin sighs. She might have to do this the hard way. But she feels the press of time, knowing that Julian is waiting and that both Martin and the King expect her to be in Arden sooner rather than later.
Ah well, maybe she can try via the Trump Booth again later. For now, Robin will see what her favorite Uncle has for her.
"Lead on." Robin gestures to Scamp to show her where Gerard and company are located.
Scamp escorts Robin to join Gerard, Hannah, and Pen, and Constant brings Solange.
Robin is dressed in what look like sailor's clothes and is wearing a sword in a new-looking but battered sheah. She smiles to Gerard, Corvis and Hannah as she enters the room but waits to see what's on folks' minds.
Solange was preparing for her departure out into the higher-tech realms, and is dressed accordingly: all-natural clothes, custom-made, because that's what you get in Xanadu, but simple and unadorned. She's short and compact and has a dancer's figure, or perhaps some other kind of athlete, because she's muscular and moves gracefully. She greets Gerard ("Dad") and her sisters with a smile, and looks at Pen with curious interest.
Hannah makes introductions.
Pen bows with respect, "Hail, Lady Solange. My name is Penthlisea, but I'm called Pen. I'm the Captain of the Glorious Cataphract, and envoy of Queen Thalestris of Pontus. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, and it appears that we may be related."
"Well met, Captain Pen," Solange says, and offers Pen a firm clasp. "We're all related around here, more or less closely."
Pen steps forward and extends her hand with the flat smooth stone and the painting of the tall, broad-shouldered woman with blonde hair. "Have you ever seen this woman? I hate to trouble you, truly, but it's terribly important." There's the slightest tremble in Pen's voice halfway through that last sentence as she realizes that this may be her last line of inquiry, and she anticipates an answer that matches all the others.
Solange takes the image and looks closely at it before shaking her heard. "I'm sorry, Pen. She looks like one of us, but I don't know her." Solange looks back at Hannah and Robin. "Are we thinking this woman on the pendant is one of us--" Solange holds up the pendant briefly before returning it to Pen.
Her focus turns to Robin in particular; Robin, after all, was there when Solange talked to their mother's ghost. "Do we think she _lied?_ Is that it? She said there were only three of us." Solange bites her lip, not quite hard enough to draw blood. "I don't know if I believe what she said any more."
Corvis appears at the door, but chooses, probably wisely, not to step into the room.
Robin shakes her head. "She could have lied. After all, she was in a fine mood. But I doubt it.
"I'm more inclined to think that Daeon's hand is in here somewhere...."
Solange snorts, and visibly relaxes a little.
"Yes, it could be from the father's side. Pen, what can you tell us about your father?" Hannah asks.
"She never spoke of him, but whenever I brought him up she gave me a scornful look and immediately severed that conversation before it went any further."
"That would make sense if it were Daeon, from what you said about her," Solange answers. "She doesn't sound like the sort of woman who would put up with him long-term." Solange has the good grace to look mildly abashed at herself, and says, "Sorry, but they don't sound like they would have been compatible. Daeon was a good man, but he was very focused on his own concerns, which could seem--" she selects a word carefully "--frivolous to those who didn't share them."
Gerard says, "Aye, I know Jules despaired of the lad, but he gave his life honorably to spare his children from the dragon. In Pontus you might have known him as a demigod, or even a god. But he was a male principle, if you will, so I reckon he wouldn't have been welcomed except at times of celebration."
Corvis is still waiting for her moment, and while Gerard has to be aware of her, he's not pushing things. Robin and Hannah can guess that both of them are a little leery of how Solange is going to react to the image of Ysabeau.
"Solange, I mentioned that I've never seen an image of Ysabeau, and Corvis had one. Do you want to see it, or would you rather we save it for later?" Hannah asks.
Robin waits quietly, giving her sisters the space they need while being ready to support them if needed.
"I think--I think I should. That I'll regret it if I don't." Solange turns to Corvis and says, "Thanks," which carries a lot of complicated feelings. She reaches out for Robin and Hannah while Corvis brings the icon over.
Since Solange is offering her hands to her sisters, Corvis offers the icon to Hannah, and opens it up (it's a tryptich, but small enough to be held with one hand, especially by an Amberite). It's a small thing, wooden, stylized with a little knotwork, and it depicts a blonde woman in the robes of an Isles priestess. The clothing is bright blues and reds and purples, and her hair is actually highlighted in gold. It can't be magic because it wouldn't have held in Xanadu, but there's a light in her eyes somehow, and they seem to follow the viewer.
Gerard gestures to Pen to come stand by him.
Pen, who is actually curious, but doesn't want to pry, moves forward at Gerard's invitation and takes a place by him. She can't exactly qualify it, but she feels a great sense of stability around Gerard and Corvis. Hannah and Robin have both been kind and patient with her, and she'd do anything for them. Solange seems to have unspoken reservations and a practiced distance, but Pen expects she would give her the benefit of the doubt if she needed anything from her.
Hannah takes Solange's hand, and with her other takes the tryptich, holding it between them and out a bit, so Robin can see too. She studies the art of it first. She didn't expect to be able to see herself in her mother much, but the colors are appealing. "Well, the art is very lovely," she says.
Robin takes Solange's other hand and holds on firmly. As she gazes over the triptych a small smile lines her lips. Robin can definitely see the family resemblance to herself. Though the priestess' robes are right out for herself.
"It's definitely her," Solange says. Her expression is still tight, and her grip around the hands of her sisters is strong, like she's hanging on for dear life.
Solange looks up and at Pen. "You should come take a look too. She's not your mother, but you should see her.
Gerard looks at Pen and nods.
Pen steps forward next to Solange and looks upon the triptych and the woman known as Ysabeau.
"Okay, so that's done," Solange says firmly, and gives her sisters each a good squeeze before letting them go. "I'm sorry," she adds, to Pen, "I'm just really emotional about my mother."
She turns to look at Hannah and Robin. "So we're adopting Pen? That's what I'm getting out of this discussion? Because if you're for it, I'm happy to have another sister."
Corvis comes to stand with Gerard and takes his hand. Both of them are smiling.
"I'm happy to do that if I can be just as neglectful of her as I am of you two," Hannah grins.
"Sure!" Robin chirps, grinning to Pen, "The more the merrier."
For the first time in what feels like forever, it doesn't matter who Pen's mother really was or if she's still alive. Tears well up in Pen's eyes, and words come slowly as she addresses the daughters of Ysabeau. "I would be greatly honored to be your sister. Your enemies are now my enemies."
"Uh, we might need to make you a list then. I don't actually have one at the moment except 'Xanadu's enemies are my enemies', but I do put a token down on Uncle Huon. He joined one of the societies of my people and there is no simple trouncing him out... there is talking and ceremony and if possible, reconciliation, so on some level I have to protect him... I guess I'm saying, he's mine. I think he'll cooperate, probably, and we'll be able to disentangle ourselves, but until then I'd prefer not to have to wrestle with the family over him. I'm hoping he bought himself a little space if he did help our other cousins escape the... Klepriesties." Hannah shrugs. She looks at Robin then, who Hannah clearly feels could be the biggest threat in the room when it comes to Huon.
Robin decides not to let the mention of Huon darken the mood so she smiles to her sisters. "I still want to feed his ear to my firelizards," she playfully grumbles, "But I hold off in the name of Family unity."
Solange laughs, and her resemblance to Gerard is never more clear than at this moment, when anyone looking in the proper direction can see that Gerard, too, is stifling a laugh. She takes the icon from Hannah and offers it to Corvis. "I know she meant that literally, Hannah, but let's have a group hug before we get into grievances." Solange throws one arm around Hannah and gestures to Pen and Robin to join them.
Robin gleefully joins in the sister huddle.
Seeing Solange laugh makes Hannah smile, and she nudges the baby out of the way with her toe so she can get all her sisters in an embrace. And no sooner does she have Robin close than she says, "Don't leave until we've had a second alone to talk, Robin."
"Better make it quick," Robin responds, "I've got to get going soon."
Solange pulls Corvis and Gerard in as well, and then they all break up.
Hannah says to the group, "excuse us," and leads Robin into the Hall.
Robin nods to her companions and follows Hannah out into the Hall.
Solange looks at Gerard and Corvis and they look back at her. Solange shrugs. "I don't know what that's about either." She says to Pen, "I'm supposed to be on my way soon, but--before I go, what can I do for you, now that we're adopting each other? Other than look out for your mom."
Pen seems grateful, and even a little more confident after having found a place in this family.
"I have unsettled business with the Dragon of Arcadia. The green sickness has spread to both the outskirts of Arden and the place of my birth, Pontus. I will obey King Random, but I think Pontus and Amber both have a common cause in the Arcadian threat. At some point I must take the trial of that maze - I'm not fully healed yet, and I'm told that it will kill me if I'm not prepared for it. When the time comes for me to walk this Pattern, I would be indebted to you if you could be there. Any encouragement may make the difference."
Pen gives Solange a big burly hug. "Be safe, sister. I expect someone clever will eventually make one of those strange cards of me at some point, and we may speak at a distance."
"I can show you the Trump Booth before I go. There are paintings of a lot of us in there.Paige, who you don't know yet, and Folly and Ossian and a few of the other artists are slowly making cards of us all. But there are a lot of us, so it's taking a while. In the meantime there's a room with cards and sketches of a lot of us, and you can get in contact with me that way."
Solange gives Pen's hand a squeeze. "I think Robin and Brita--she's another one of the artists, but she's also a warrior and I think you'll like her--are going to Arden to deal with the Green. So Uncle Julian won't be alone." She says the last bit reassuringly. "The Green is a mess, but we got through the Sundering and we'll get through it, too."
"I've cards of my own," Gerard says, "and if you need to talk to Jules, you can come to me."
Pen says, "If you can show me the Trump Booth that would be wonderful. I'll expect I'll tag along with Robin and Brita as soon as they're ready to return to Arden."
"Good, because they need all the help they can get from the sound of things. Dad, I'll be back before I go, briefly. Corvis, thank you for showing me the icon. I appreciate it."
Solange waves goodbye to her sisters.
Last modified: 21 July 2021