Once Huon has departed, Folly sags a little, as if finally able to relax, and reaches instinctively for Martin's hand. "Well, that went surprisingly well, considering like half the family wants to kill him," she says. "How are you?"
Martin shrugs. Clearly he doesn't even know how to answer that question.
"I'm not resigning my knighthood since everyone seems not to want me to. I don't know where Edan is. I've talked to Brennan and Jerod and Llewella. Now Dad's gone and I have no idea what's going on with that."
From the look on her face, Martin can tell that Folly doesn't, either.
"We do need to talk about Card but that can wait a bit. How are you?" Lark runs over to get in the middle of her parents. Martin takes a moment and settles on the floor next to her.
Folly also takes a moment to re-settle as she thinks about her answer. "I'm still about a million things at once. Hopeful. Scared, but not panicked, yet. Happy and sad at the same time. Like I could use a nap, and like I shouldn't dare stop paying attention. I feel like a marble sitting on top of an orange wondering which way everything is going to roll, you know?"
She reaches over to brush a stray wisp of hair from Lark's forehead, more as an excuse to pet her than because it really needs doing. "Right now I feel like I'm in hostess mode with a houseful of company to look after: New cousins. Semi-hostage moonrider princess. Jim and your other folks who came in last night. And, quite frankly, the castle staff, particularly the ones who were close to Vialle, because I want to make sure they're ok."
"Poor Ember."
Martin shakes his head, and seems about to say something else, but Lark pipes up, "When do I meet the new cousins? Can I come to dinner or is it only grownups?" The last two words get extra emphasis and a big eyeroll that's probably making fun of her father.
Martin says, "If the Moonrider princess is coming, you get to come, Lark. And your mother and I do have to talk about 'grownup things'." He echoes her own tone back to Lark, who giggles at him.
"And you definitely get to meet the new cousins," Folly adds, "who I haven't even met either. I think one of them wants to learn more about Rebma, though -- maybe you could draw her a picture of some of your favorite things you saw there while Daddy and I talk about boring grownup stuff?" She grins at her daughter.
"And also for your grandma," Martin suggests.
Lark looks like this has to be some kind of trick, possibly because Martin is suggesting she be nice to Brij. But she shrugs and says, "Okay," and goes to look for paper and crayons.
Martin waits until she's out of immediate earshot and behind him to say, low, "Before we go to dinner, you need to tell her the family news," and lowers his eyes to Folly's midsection. "Since other people already know."
Folly nods. "I wasn't sure how much you'd already told her," she replies, her voice equally low. "Just that the two of you are going on a little trip... and there are wolves involved?" Despite the seriousness of the conversation, she can't quite stifle a grin at her daughter's enthusiasm for that part.
Martin nods, once. Even though he's not watching Lark go through the drawers of one of the tables in the room, he's clearly aware of where their daughter is. "Just that we're taking some of Uncle Jerod's friends the Weir home. I thought the other news would come better from you."
"Yeah, maybe so," Folly replies. "Well, it's not like I've ever had a problem with honesty, you know? I'll try to be... just age-appropriately overshare-y enough." Martin can practically see the gears turning as she starts working out what to say, and how to say it.
"Huon had some interesting things to say about the relationships among the younger members of his generation, particularly those that were close in age," she adds, in not quite so secretive a voice. "From his telling, they sounded a lot closer and less combative than their elders. So I'm glad she's getting a chance to meet some of her cousins and start to build those relationships." Her eyes twinkle as she adds, "...and now I'm mentally planning that big extended family theme park vacation. A roller coaster might do Hope and Phillipe some good, eh?"
"Only if their grandmother isn't coming to watch them." Martin makes a face. "Isn't one of Lucas' kids serving as a page? Is he coming to dinner? What about Daeon's ranger kids? If we're having guests, so it's not the Thing in the Basement, we ought to invite the outer ring of family. And I guess Brij is still here so that means Lark's grandmother too."
Lark definitely heard that though she's doing a decent job of not deliberately listening. She looks over her shoulder at Folly with big eyes.
Folly smiles reassuringly but holds up a finger to let Lark know they're not quite done with the Grown-Up Talk yet.
To Martin, she says, "Good points. Although, you know, I've been out of the loop here long enough that I'd need to cross-reference my list with Gilt's, at least, in case there've been other newly-discovered or newly-acknowledged cousins since we've been away. I was mostly thinking we need to take care of our new cousins and guests from Elsewhere who were expecting to come to Formal Dinner and might otherwise be stuck at loose ends without really knowing anyone here yet. But I can definitely see the case for expanding the invite list a little to others in Xanadu." Her lips twitch just a little before she adds, "Definitely Brij." They twitch again, into a wry smile. "Also, speaking of Daeon, Paige's twins may be here, too. Lark met them, last night. They, ah, seemed to have a good time." From the sparkle in her eyes, that statement is both true and a woefully incomplete summary.
"Greeeeeeeat. Do I need to issue threats or is this just kid-style mayhem?" Martin asks, then waves a hand to suggest he doesn't really want to know the answer.
"The other thing I need to talk to you about is Card. Since you're going to stay here and I'm going to be on the move, I think it's wise for you to formally step up as a KC and run the Order. You'll have a better idea of what's needed to defend the royal family, such as it's going to be, than I will. If you're going to have to do the work, you might as well have the responsibility."
Folly blinks. Opens her mouth, then shuts it again. Looks almost stricken for a moment, but tries to hide it with a thoughful frown. "Gods, who's even left? You, me, Solange... who else?"
She sucks in a breath and blows it out. "Yes, of course I'll do the work, but the first order of business is maybe getting a few more of us." She smirks, just a little, and adds, "The band might have to change its name."
"Yeah, my record's not great. Cambina and Lucas are dead, and Solange is in semi-disgrace. Which--I've talked to Brennan about it and she and Jerod are going to have to work it out on their own, but he knows as well as anyone that Solange would never have deliberately hurt Cambina. And as it turns out, Solange wasn't entirely wrong, and if she'd found anything we all might have been spared a world of hurt. But that's neither here nor there.
"What I think overall is that I'm not the person who brought an army of her own to Xanadu and maybe you ought to think about that. Talk to Fletcher about the old orders, because I'm pretty sure one of them wasn't martial and I think Ruby and Lamp have that covered. You're the one who wants to defend the realm without violence. This is your chance. Plus it gives you an official role without you having to step up formally as chatelaine." Martin doesn't say or Queen but he doesn't really have to.
"OHHhhhh..." Folly says, not particularly quietly, as the light suddenly dawns. She sits up straighter. "So, a lot of what I would've been doing anyway, just with a little more--" She makes a gesture that is perhaps best read as 'oomph'. "I got the impression one of the old orders was sort of... religious... in nature, which is not quite what we want here, but I see where you're going. I was planning to go down into town tonight anyway to check in and kind of get the lay of the land since we've been gone. That should give me some ideas where to go next." She pauses, and Martin can see the wheels turning.
After a moment, she says, "Fair warning, you know I'm going to ask you a ton of questions. You always see things I'm missing. How does the saying go, 'Four-armed is forewarned'?" She grins at him in good humor and affection.
Martin snorts. "Like I know anything about making an order of knights succcessful," he says by way of clarification. "You know what needs to be done, you have the people, they love you. Let them help you do the work."
Folly nods. "Hopefully they'll mostly still be with me when the dust settles," she says; "I have been gone a while, after all." She sounds more optimistic than worried, though, even if there is definitely a little worry mixed in.
She glances in Lark's direction.
Lark has been opening every drawer in the sideboard in the parlor to see what's inside. Also Totally Not Listening In to her parents' conversation, you guys.
Martin is just waiting at this point.
Folly blows out a breath that is not quite a sigh and says, "Lark, sweetie, are you not having any luck finding art supplies? Come over here and let me talk to you a minute, and then we can look together, okay?"
Lark runs back over to join her parents, sitting between them. Martin gives her a little room.
Once she's sure she's got her daughter's attention, she asks, "Do you remember before you went to Rebma, before we saw the unicorn, when Granda Syd was lost and you thought you heard him calling me?"
"Uh huh," Lark says, nodding, wanting more of the story.
Folly leans in, almost conspiratorially. "Well, it turns out Granda Syd had been enchanted by someone who wanted to control him, and maybe take control of Xanadu, too. The enchantment meant his body was here, but his mind was trapped and trying to find a way home.
"So your daddy and our cousin Edan -- you remember Edan, he's the one who did the sword dance, and then you helped Hannah take care of their baby -- they came into the castle to find the person doing the enchantment and get them away from Xanadu, while I snuck in the back way to get Granda Syd's body and try to break the enchantment."
She pauses, partly for dramatic effect, but perhaps also figuring out how to make the next part make sense. "So you know how you feel really connected to your body when you're surfing, or doing cartwheels? I brought Granda Syd to our band, because we've known him for a long time and we know the things that connect him to his body. And so we did a ritual with those things, full of music, and a little bit of magic, and a lot of love, and at the end we broke the enchantment and he was back in his body again! But also...."
Folly rests her hands on her belly. "One of the things we did means that I'm going to have a baby. And so I'm going to have to stay here for a little while, while you and Daddy go off and have adventures."
"Okay," Lark says. She looks at her father, sort of half up, and then back to her mother. "Is that what's bugging Daddy?"
Martin says, "Daddy is worried about a bunch of things that don't have to do with you, kiddo. One thing is that Edan and I did some things that made other people upset. And I was in charge and I won't let the people who are mad blame it on Edan. And I don't like it that Granda Syd has been sick. So there's a lot on my mind. But I love you, Lark, and that's the most important thing."
"We both do," Folly emphasizes with a fond smile for both her husband and daughter. "Very much. Sometimes when things are complicated like Daddy just described, or when things change and you're not sure what's going to happen next, you can feel a lot of different things at once. Like, I'm happy that Granda Syd's okay, and I'm excited to have a baby, and I'm sad that I have to be apart from you and Daddy for a little while, especially when I know he's having some worries, but I'm glad you get to go have another adventure and really glad he's going to have you with him to help him. And it's okay to feel all those things, and it's good to say the feelings out loud, too, sometimes, so that the sad and scary ones don't hide in the dark and try to grow. Or even if you're not sure what you're feeling, you can just say 'I think I need a hug.'" She leans over and adds in a stage whisper, "I'm pretty sure that's why they were invented."
Even Lark can probably tell that Folly's words aren't just meant for her.
"I think I need a hug," Lark says, and Martin puts his arms around her. Lark stretches her arms out to her mother.
Folly smiles, a bit wistfully, and leans in to wrap one arm firmly and reassuringly around her daughter. The other she stretches behind Lark to slide around as much of Martin's shoulders as she can reach -- gently, but hopefully also reassuringly.
Martin accepts the hug and lightly puts one of his own arms, the one that's not around Lark, on Folly's shoulder. The tension in his body couldn't be much clearer; if he were any further overwound, he'd snap.
She sucks in a soft breath, more empathy than surprise at the depth of his tension. She kisses the top of Lark's head gently and says, "I think Daddy could use a bigger hug," and wraps her arms more tightly around Martin, giving their daughter room to shift around and join the Daddy-hugging if she wants.
Which Lark does.
Folly kisses Martin's hair at about his temple and murmurs, "I love you so, so much. We'll figure this out. I promise."
None of this seems to be unwinding or relaxing Martin. What he says, after a moment, is "I know."
She pulls back enough to look him in the eyes, and cradles his cheek in her hand. "What can I do to help?" she asks softly. Her body language subtly asks if they need to otherwise occupy Lark again.
"Some things require time," Martin says, and he's about to add something else when there's a sharp rap on the door. "Come in," Martin says, not jumping because Princes of Amber don't do that, and disentangles himself from Folly and Lark.
The page comes in and bows. "Prince Martin, Princess Folly, Lady Lark." Lark giggles at the formal address. "Princess Folly, Prince Gerard asked that you be told when dinner is ready, and it is. We're notifying all the family members and guests in the castle."
"Oh, good, that means Jim and the rest of your crew should be there," Folly says to Martin as she rises and helps Lark to her feet. "I haven't had a chance to check in on them since we brought them through last night, and it was on my list." She thanks the page and dismisses her with a polite 'we'll be along momentarily' gesture.
She watches the page's departure, clearly mulling something over. Once the door is closed again, she muses to Martin, "I wonder if Violet would be interested in being chatelaine? I'll bet she'd be good at it."
"I wouldn't count on Jim showing up at something this fancy, but I will stop in to see him before I go," Martin says. "As for Violet--you can ask, of course, and I'd be happy to see her take it, but I need to have a long talk with her before I ride off as well. She'll definitely need a formal post in the castle somewhere, but--and don't take this personally--she might feel like she'd better off in one of our uncles' direct service.
"But we can worry about that after dinner. Let's go down there and get this over with."
Folly nods. "At least there will be food," she says, although she doesn't sound like she's particularly dreading the rest of it. She holds out a hand to Lark. "C'mon, kiddo -- time to meet more cousins," she says. And then it's off to dinner.
Once Delta has been safely dispatched, Max turns his attention back to Alex.
"Nobody knows exactly about the King but he and King Corwin left a while ago and I know they talked to Prince Garrett but not much more. Nobody sounds like it's a serious thing but with our family you can't always tell." Max sounds serious, and kind of resigned. "If there's anything to know, Prince Gerard can tell you. He knows all about the navy because he was one of the admirals before the war. Where do you come from, Cousin Alex?"
Alex matches Max's pace, adjusting for shorter legs. "Well, we call it Earth, but I bet that's pretty common. Um... the country is the United States, we have electricity and engines so we don't need horses as much. We figured out how to make rockets that go into space. Does that help? We need some kind of filing system for these. Maybe one of our cousins is a librarian."
"There's a librarian," Max says, "but he's not Family."
"How about you? Were you born here? What do you do when they're not making you show new cousins around?"
"I was born in Amber. My father was Lucas. He's Princess Florimel's son. I'm a page so can I learn what it's like to live in the castle. I'll be a squire in a couple of years," Max says proudly. It's clear to Alex that he expects Alex to know who both Lucas and Florimel are.
Alex thinks about it a moment, then says, "Okay. Um... Florimel is Grandpa Dworkin's kid? Or is there someone else in there? And squire, that's the bit where you learn how to fight, right? Do they really make you wait till you're eighteen before they teach you that kind of thing?
From his grin, he knows Max isn't sixteen or even close to it.
"You get special permission if you're the King's nephew. And I learned to fight long before I was a page. I want to learn to fight better." Max's smile is slightly feral.
He thinks back to his genealogy. Those weren't his favorite lessons. "Princess Florimel is sister to the King, who is Random. Their father Oberon was King of Amber, and died to save the world. King Oberon was King from the founding of Amber until the Sundering. That's like ten thousand years or something. I've heard of Dworkin, but I haven't met him. He's assentric and lives somewhere else."
Alex cocks his head. "Nice. Just with swords, or do you know how to throw a punch, too?" Then the rest of Max's words catch up with him. "Ten thousand years? Holy, uh, holy crap."
Max shrugs. "A long time anyhow. And yeah--" a very not-royal sounding word, that, "--I learned to fight at my ma's. Not in the palace." Before he can add more, he announces, "We've arrived."
He raps on the door and another page opens it. "Lord Alex to see Prince Gerard," he says, and before the page can answer, a deep, adult man's voice answers, "Come in, lads."
The page at the door stands by for Alex to come in. This room, as most of the royal chambers are, is on the sunny side of the palace, and the sunset light is gorgeous, as is the view out over the bay. The room is larger than his own by a good order of magnitude, and furnished in the similar sort of Scandi-modern style, with light woods and nice fabrics. But Alex is pretty sure it's all handmade.
The fellow who spoke to him, clearly the Prince, is the bloke in the wheelchair, which is to say a big fellow with brown hair and a huge body and arms stuck in a wheelchair with his legs hidden under a blanket. With him is an older woman, who could be old enough to be Alex's grandmother, but she's hovering protectively over the Prince.
"Welcome, Alex. I'm Gerard, and this is my wife Corvis. Sit down and rest--you've had an exciting day, I hear."
Max is waiting in the room with the other pages, and clearly listening in. Gerard and Corvis seem to have a good idea of what he's doing and are letting him do it.
Alex essays a bow and comes perilously close to flubbing it before recovering. His trained grace serves him well enough in the end.
"Thank you, um, Prince Gerard? Princess Corvis? Man, I'm sure I got that wrong, that sounds wrong."
He plops down, with less of the grace but definite urgency. "I have had a day and a half, sir. You have maybe heard the story but I woke up in a jail cell and before I knew it I'm related to a bunch of long-lived people who can make worlds out of dreams. Which is, I've got some experience with making fantasies real, but this is a whole 'nother level. If I am babbling I apologize. It really is nice to meet everyone. How's your day been?"
Corvis smiles at him, all welcoming. She must have been quite a looker in her day, and some traces of that remain, but she's clearly not well. Whatever lets these people live forever, she doesn't seem to have it.
Gerard's voice is hearty. "Well enow, kinsman. Didn't expect to have to host a family dinner after everything, but p'haps I should have made it a family breakfast instead. You must have a million questions, so I'll answer as many as I can. It's not the first time I've had a lost sheep show up at our doorstep."
"And Uncle Gerard is as good a shepherd as they come," says a young man from the doorway. He is grinning as he enters the room. "I hope you don't mind me joining you. I'm Prince Garrett," he says to Alex.
Garrett does not look the part of a fairytale prince. He is a slight but wiry young man, perhaps mid-to-late 20s in earth years, with dark brown hair that falls over his blue eyes, which are now sparkling with welcome for the newcomer. Despite his size, Alex would judge him professionally to be unusually strong and fast in the ring. He's dressed as if he just came in from the stables, with black pants, a loose-fitting linen shirt, and worn leather boots.
"I'm happy to help with answers as well," Garrett offers.
Alex shoots a grin at the newcomer. "Man, I gotta be honest, I don't know what I should be asking. It's like... Christmas morning and you come down and there's not just one tree, there are a hundred trees. And the living room is connected to a bunch of other living rooms with more trees, and there are a lot of presents wrapped up. But maybe some of them have booby traps in them?"
He shakes his head. "Uh, I'm Alex. Good to meet you. Hey, so far most of the relatives I've met were born to this, I think. How about you?"
Garrett laughs, but Gerard speaks first.
Gerard chuckles. "Garrett's got his own story to tell, but it's his and I'll leave it for him. Welcome, Your Highness. Your father's left me in charge. Do we know who's coming and who's not? I think Robin and Pen and Brita are leaving before dinner, and I'm pretty sure Jerod and Ossian have already absented themselves from felicity for whatever task they're on. I think Hannah is resting with the baby."
"The corridors were pretty quiet on my way here. It seems most everyone left right after the rescue," Garrett reports to his uncle. "The dinner crowd'll be small, I reckon."
Garrett turns to Alex. "Well met, Alex. No, I wasn't born to this at all," he says with a grin. "Until a few years ago, I was a hand in the stables of Amber, with my only goal being to replace my da as Master of Horse someday. Then I found out that my da, Donovan, wasn't really my father at all. My mum had a dalliance with Prince Random and got wi' child. Da married her and raised me as his own to cover it up. Mum wanted nothin' to do with royalty and was afraid they'd take me away from her." As he talks about his family, Garrett begins to fall back into what Alex would guess are old speech patterns, until he pauses. "She was right, I reckon, though I was almost grown by then."
Alex nods thoughtfully, returning the grin. "Born to the world, though, if not the family. Still sounds like quite the shock. I bet a lot of us have stories a bit like that... for me, my mother met a guy in passing. She always said she didn't expect anything of him, and I was a nice surprise, so that's something at least."
He masks a yawn, then back to Gerard: "Delta's napping before dinner, but she wouldn't miss this for the world. We dropped an entire sea adventure in front of her and she didn't flinch, and I've only known her a day but I'm pretty sure sea adventure is about the best thing you could drop in front of her."
"Dinner's about to be served in the next half-glass or so; in fact if you like, we can walk down, the four of us." Gerard glances at Max. "Five, in fact, though since you'll not be serving, Max, you might want to change into off duty clothes."
Max beams. "May I, sir?"
Gerard nods, and the boy is off like a shot. Once the door has closed behind him, he explains to Alex: "His father Lucas is gone, and he was at the right age, so we made a page of him because he'd not been raised around the household. You're a bit old for that so don't think you'll have that problem. You mentioned your mother; what do you know about your father?"
Garrett looks interested in this answer as well.
"Oh, gosh, not a lot. Mom was... well, not a star really, but she was more of a jock than I am and more successful at it. She told me once she used to tell guys she wouldn't go on a date with them unless they could beat her in arm-wrestling, and once or twice someone could actually take her. But that's where I made her stop telling those stories cause ew, who wants to hear what their mom was up to when they were young?"
Alex shows a theatrical shiver.
"But I guess Dad was one of those guys. Mom raised me fine, so I never wondered too much."
"Sounds like my kind of woman," Gerard says with a grin. "If you've got a picture of her, might want to pass it around to find which of my brothers is responsible."
Another page knocks and is let in. "They're ready for you to announce dinner, Prince Gerard," the girl says.
Gerard looks at the assembled parties. "Let's go down together, unless you need to freshen up."
Alex waves a hand. "Nah, I'm good -- sounds like this is going to be a bit less formal than I thought anyhow. Um, if you give me more than one fork I'm just gonna ignore the second one."
"Forks? What are forks?" Garrett replies with a grin, then more seriously. "Don't worry about it. State dinners are formal. This won't be."
Garrett offers his hand to Corvis. "After you, m'lady," he says politely.
Corvis smiles at Garrett and accepts his hand.
Gerard wheels himself; Alex notices that while Gerard's legs are damaged, he's got meaty arms and probably can wheel himself up a steep ramp or stairs without a problem. But the castle seems to be designed with accessibility in mind anyway.
After seeing Garrett off, Misao turns to the page, who has been waiting as per Misao's earlier request.
"Excuse me for troubling you, but I will need to obtain several items by tonight. I ask your assistance in this matter."
Misao then gives the page a list of items, to whit: one rake, one broom, four small shallow bowls (either glass or plain ceramic), two bags, one small and one large, a small handful of clean coal, a lantern, a container of pure salt, and incense sticks, if they can be found, or powdered incense and an incense burner if sticks are not available. Also, several small pieces of paper and several small clean cloths, for wrapping. Misao indicates the dimensions of these.
"And, please send a message to the Lady Brita respectfully asking her to provide a sealed container of pure water." Misao indicates a volume of about a half a liter. "Bring all the items to my rooms."
Finally, Misao asks the page to recommend a place where they might find a compass, and someone who works in carved wood. Having obtained this information, they thank the page and dismiss them.
The page listens attentively to the requests and replies that both a compass and a woodworker are likely to be found in the city, by the harbor, although many people work in wood as a hobby or as part of their profession. In the castle, she can send word to the chief steward, but that worthy may have to send to the city for the items.
She then takes her leave to gather the items. If Misao watches her walk away, they'll see her approach the first page she finds, confer briefly, and then both of them depart on tasks.
The role of pages and family members in the castle is pretty clear.
Misao heads towards the harbor.
The path down to the harbor is winding and basically cuts back and forth to climb up to the castle from the sea. It looks like some prior climbers have decided that switchback road is not the fastest and there's a string of trails between the levels that would cut off some time. Still, it's likely to take 45 minutes to descend and roughly and hour to return. There isn't much traffic on the road, although they see more closer to the town.
It's difficult to say where the harbor area stops and the city begins. So much of it is built around the arms of the great crescent bay that's fed on one end by the waterfall and opens to the sea at the other. One branch has piers and docks, and actual ships tied to the docks, while the other seems more the province of smaller ships and cargo being unloaded by boat. Before getting there, Misao will need to go through the people. Some are at market stalls, some are conducting other business, and some it's unclear what their purpose for being on the streets is. There are obvious taverns and stables and stores and armories and warehouses. One tall building looks like it may be a courthouse; it's large and on a central square. Closer to the actual ships are more nautically themed businesses.
How does Misao navigate the city and what shape are they wearing?
Misao is in their usual shape, that of a young woman (25 or so) and is still wearing the black kimono with five small white crests, as well as the accoutrements. They have a silver and gold fan tucked into the left side of their sash and are carrying a small black bag. They are also wearing sandals. Their hair is all black, save for one silver lock. Misao has given consideration to the reaction of people to their alternate forms, and the general look of the people they've seen in Xanadu so far, and has altered their skin tone to be more Xanadhavian. They've also changed their eye color to dark brown.
They carefully navigate their way down the hill, choosing the most graceful route. When they approach the first market stall, they ask politely for directions to the nearest woodworker and/or compass shop.
By the time Misao has arrived in the city, it's early evening and shops are beginning to close (though many will answer for a royal anyway). This stall sells fruits, which are exotic, shipped-in imports, which is a nuance that escapes Misao. They're directed to the shopkeeper's cousin, who works in wood from the artisan's corner of the mall. She sends her young helper to "take you to Uncle Stretch."
That gentleman is, indeed a woodcrafter, although not a traditional sea-crafter. He's not making davit blocks or ship's pulleys. He has a number of finished products for sale, small jewelry boxes and wooden mugs and highly polished eating utensils amongst them. He seems happy to meet Misao and wants to know what wood they need worked.
Misao examines Stretch's wares with interest.
"What kind of woods do you work in?" they ask, "I need to have a piece sculpted into the shape of a dragon, about this big." Misao indicates something about the size of an ostrich egg.
He cleary had identified Misao as wealthy and, a Lady. "My lady, I work an anything I see shapes in. The wood tells me what it can be. Xanadu, like Amber, has the forests of dozens of shadows to trade with to fetch exotic woods. These are my more salable works, but I also create fine art and custom goods for any purpose." He watches to gauge their interest.
"Now a piece of art, a dragon in miniature, should be of a culturally significant wood. Phoenix Tail wood would have the right grain for scales, and is slightly iridescent. Zitan is also a possibility, but it's hard to get here. I'd have to put out feelers to my suppliers."
"Phoenix tail wood would be perfect. Jindai sugi and keyaki would also be suitable."
"Now, can you describe the dragon you'd like?" Stretch pulls out a sketchpad, ready to take direction from them.
Misao describes Seiryu. A long, snakelike, scaly body, with a crest running down the back of it. A tufted tail. A long, horselike head, with sharp fangs, long tongue, large eyes and flared nostrils. A lion's mane at the base of the neck. Branching, deerlike horns emerging behind pointed ears. Short whiskers around the mouth and the two long ones emerging from under the nose. Four agile limbs, with their long, three-clawed toes, the left front foot clasping a burning pearl.
He nods seriously, and takes notes. "Yes, I can make this. Actual burning pearl, or symbolic? We may have to send to Rebma for that part, and make sure I understand the requirements." He starts making broad outline sketches. "I won't know how it will turn out, exactly, until I find the wood. These things work so much better when you let the wood tell you how to uncover the dragon within it. It's good you came to me, this is a complex piece to do well."
The sketch takes shape, with corrections and firmer lines as Misao describes additional parts of the dragon.
"What is your time frame and budget, My Lady?"
Misao nods as Seiryu takes shape on the page before them. "I would like it as soon as possible. Tonight, even, if you can. As for budget... send to the palace in the name of Misao and you will be paid whatever is reasonable." A stern look and tone accompanies the last words. Stretch should be under no illusions that if he tries to pad his numbers, it will be a very serious mistake indeed.
"If this piece proves suitable, I may have other work for you in the future," Misao's tone softens, the carrot to the stick. "What say you, Master Woodcarver?"
His face is unreadable, but his tone suggests that they've asked the impossible. "A work of art requires time, my Lady. I cannot even gather the materials tonight and the sun is setting as we speak. In a month, for the Regent's birthday, perhaps. Assuming I can even find a burning pearl. My Lady needs a magician, not a master woodcarver."
Misao looks at the setting sun, then back to Stretch. An enigmatic smile graces their face. It might be satisfaction, amusement, or enforced patience, or maybe some combination of those.
"Very well, Master Woodcarver. You shall have your month. In the meantime, do you have any uncarved wood?"
Misao will select a piece of hardwood, of the appropriate size, and pay him for it, before asking Stretch to direct them to a place where they can buy a compass.
He has a selection, as his customers sometimes want to choose what he starts with. She can find a piece to suit her needs. He hands it to her and doesn't seem concerned about payment, but is happier now.
He directs her to a shop that is literally on the docks which sells ship's supplies.
Amongst those supplies is a binnacle with an oil compass inside, suitable for navigation at sea.
The merchant is happy to sell it to them and wants to know what ship they would like it delivered to.
Misao is looking for the most portable compass, preferably handheld.
Misao finds something that can be carried in a crate. The merchant thinks it's too small to be accurate enough for navigation, and warns against counting on it without calibration.
Misao tells the compass maker to send the bill to the castle, and then returns up the hill by the easiest, most graceful route. Once back at their rooms, they examine the materials that the pages have brought. As they sort through the items, packaging and wrapping them, they inquire about a suitable location for the ritual.
It must be away from the town and castle, but not too far. Misao does not want any interruptions, but also does not want to get lost in the dark. It should be in a place that will have a good view of the horizon, so someplace high up. It should not be near any trees, so grass, rock, and sand are acceptable ground coverings.
Assuming all the items Misao needs for the ritual are now available, and they can obtain directions to a suitable location from the page, they will ask to be wakened at midnight. They will then spend some time praying before Lucas's shrine and then sleep.
Xanadu is built into the side of a cliff, with a great forest above, and Broceliande and the King's Rangers do not tolerate clearance or clearings that are not natural. The best landmarks are the Pool of the Unicorn, or further along, The Steps. The steps are at the top of a cliff and, when the moon is full, lead to the spirit-kingdom of Tirna-n'Ogth.
They are both symbolic and important locations, and also her best chance at a clear view to the horizon.
Misao is given directions to a place called "the Pool of the Unicorn", which is not that far away at the top of the cliff the looms over Xanadu's castle. It's in a natural grove and no one goes there except for the most solemn of reasons.
Assuming one of those is suitable, she's soon asleep and awakened at midnight.
Delta returns to her rooms, which is more space than she normally lives in, and certainly more than she ever gets aboard ship. Life in a castle is a real mix of being all atop everyone and having a lot of space to herself. If she can figure out the watch schedule she'll be set.
Delta pulls out her cards, flipping each one over and seeing the familiar images, but now they're people. The Redhead, that's Bleys. Uncle Bleys, maybe. She'd made up stories about them all when she was younger. Now, they could tell her their stories. Or she'd fallen into them. The Younger Brother, was everyone's younger brother. He was either assisting in deviltry or dodging responsibility. And he's Random, King of Xanadu. She didn't remember that in her stories. She would've, she thought.
The magician wasn't in the deck. Was he missing? Or was he too busy painting everyone else that he hadn't made a card of himself.
It made her head swim, having seen them all, heard their voices, touched their real selves.
She could stare at the cards and they would become real, or something. She wasn't sure how it worked, precisely. But they'd been right. Once she knew how, she could try to speak to any of them.
The cards were floating now, swirling around her like bees around a hive. Some were whispering and some were waving for attention, and some were still. One of those was Misao's father. What was his name? Lucas? Misao had a different name for him, she recalled.
It was like the cards were trying to arrange themselves into a fortune for her, but didn't know what question she wanted to have answered.
The cards had never been this helpful before.
Delta's grandmother used to tap the cards and tell tales. "That one's an ass," Coral said. The next, a grim-faced warrior, earned a, "Talks bluntly, at least," and for a younger man with a handsome, callow smile, Coral said, "You'd love this one. It wouldn't go well." Not all the comments were unkind -- some images inspired generous words, while others drew no reaction at all. Delta hadn't believed most of it. Yes, Coral disappeared to travel to places unknown. Yes, there was a place called 'Rebma' that held both Coral's heart and her despair... but on the other hand, the man Delta knew as her father liked to tell all sorts of tales, from the Sorceress-Captain of the Cerulean Tide to the 1000-year-old Kraken King and the undersea forges of the merdwarves.
Now, with the cards floating around her, testing one formation and then another, the images gained new life. One fought in a great, bloody battle. One winked. One cast her an irritated glare and returned to the pile of heavy books before her. They'd probably all created worlds like Bleys had, little personal universes for war and play. Delta let out a huff of a breath, even though she couldn't hear the exhalation. With the same reflexes that made her rapier sing, she darted a hand out to pluck a card from the cloud of images. Call it luck, call it instinct. But this one, she decided, would have something to say.
Cards fly around her, passing near, gliding away. The Fortunes, Coral called them, and the Trumps-- the Major Arcana. The Griffin, The Muse, The Smith, the Old Woman-of-the-Woods fly past. Finally from the Trumps one stops in front of her. He was the White Knight, she'd decided, since she didn't know his name. And his armor looks to be purely decorative, except the man wears it as if it were not. His blue eyes are framed by long, straight hair, and he looks -- not unkind, but perhaps reserving his kindnesses only for some.
"So, we are unlocked, and you've begun to see us as three-dimensional beings. Are we?" He pauses, and leans in towards her. "Are you, though? Do you have the sea-legs to have the kind of world-shaking power that Random promised?"
The White Knight's voice sounds something like Huon's.
"It's quite a burden to drop on someone who didn't know she was immortal until this afternoon, isn't it? You must take this gift of near-infinite power. It's your birthright. Oh, and it's the only way you'll be able to protect yourself from our enemies, who happen to consider you one of us.
"Not fair, is it? Did you expect it to be? Or to come without a price? Is the freedom your heritage grants you a curse?"
He reaches out his hand. "If you take my hand, will you draw me to where you are or will you be drawn to the two-dimensional world of the cards?
"What does your card look like, Delta?"
Only a fool would take someone's hand not knowing where they'd end up a second later. Only a fool.
"A jester's cap and bells, at the moment," she says as she extends her hand to clasp his. "As for where? Let's find out."
The Knight takes her hand and the passage isn't the same as when the Magician took them to sea, or when they were rescued from the hell-of-ice-and-guns where she'd been imprisoned. She looks down, and she sees her arms and body as two-dimensional. She moves her head, and hears bells.
"The cap suits you. The fool is a creature of freedom, but absolute freedom implies absolute isolation, so foolishness needs must be moderated. Let's see how you're connected."
The cards give the two of them room. The peasant bows as he passes near to her. He doesn't speak. "We're royalty to them," says the White Knight. "Now you are here, in the midst of the cards. What questions do you have of us?"
Bells jangle as she turns in place, watching her two-dimensional shoulder fold back on itself with the motion. "There's a between, eh?" she finally asks when she faces the Knight again. "Like walking from one chamber to another, there's a scrap of a second when you're in the doorway and not in either room. Where's that, when you go from card to card?"
"It's literally nowhere. Utopia, if you will. The perfect place that does't exist." He turns edge on to her and disappears, but his voice continues. "It is the space that I am not occupying at the moment. Perhaps the Old Magician can explain the math of it. That's what the Buff Redhead with the beard said, anyway."
She peers further at him after asking the first question, and follows up with, "You know my name. What's yours, then? Who are we to each other, kin of what sort?"
He grins. "I'm called whatever you call me. Is there a name for the picture of the King, separate from the King? I am the Knight of Cards. If I had another name, your grandmother would've said."
"There's a whole lot she didn't say," Delta points out in a wry voice, flattened here in card-space. "But well met, King of Cards -- from your newest jester. And I don't have questions, not the where-why-when sort. They'll reveal themselves in time. Or not. I just want to get on with it, the labyrinth and all. The something-new, as if today didn't offer new enough." She laughs, though there's a note of exhaustion in it, and hysteria. "It has been a day."
When the slightly too-high-pitched laughter fades, she says, "Tell me a story, will you? Just a small one. About you. I'll even return the favor after, if you like."
He laughs back, matching her tone, and also suprisingly high pitched, but it seems normal for him.
"Very well. It is a tale of Delta. But it starts before Delta. The past is like my brother, The Strong Man. His card was torn; ripped and damaged and thrown away. And yet he survived, like Delta separated from her past, pulling herself along with her strong arms and not realizing that she's missing the ability to walk."
He points at another card. The Priestess. She bows. "Delta begins, at this late date, understanding mysteries as a priestess of the moon understands quicksilver. Elusive, but powerful and useful when delved into. It is a time of learning and expanding her world, including these very cards. More than knowledge comes understanding, and the joy and sorry thereof.
"Where does this lead, our heroine may wonder? The next card is my sister, the Princess of Rebma." The card always looked somewhat sad to Delta, but her Grandmother had told her not to trust that interpretation. "The Future is Rebma, which she symbolizes. What new mysteries will Delta find there?"
Coming towards the two of them are two fabulous creatures, a unicorn and a lion. "Those two, friends and enemies. Competitors but friendly. The one is purity and universal truth, while the other is an ever renewing fountain of strength. They are rivals for guiding your path forward.
"And above them, like a crest surmounts a coat of arms, is the Fool. Will the mysteries she delves even now set her free of the bonds she didn't know existed? Or will cutting the anchor rope lead her to be dashed upon the rocks?
"The story hasn't ended yet, and there's still time to play another hand. How do you want this story to go, Delta?"
"All of it is mystery," she says. "Even those things half-explained to me, still mystery." Even in card form, her dark eyes gleam. "So if everything is unknown, what can you do except pick one direction and go?" She places heavy emphasis on 'go.'
"Do any of these tell the tales of the maze I must walk? That's the direction, the first direction." She lets out another one of those high, tired laughs. "Showing up in Rebma without the power sounds like...ha, like arriving at a feast naked. I want to be wearing my best, Knight. And then it's to Rebma I mean to go."
The Knight nods, a strange gesture from a two-dimensional man. "You've said you would go there since you first heard of it. You're balanced on the edge of a card, between being a tourist who makes no attachments and being free enough to find and build the connections you know must be there.
"Half the cards in the story I just told were Water cards; you know it's your destiny. Remember, the truth is not in the cards. It is found through the cards. Your grandmother said that, probably. At least it's how you remember it.
"But the cards work if you are in fire, air, or water." As he says each word, the background behind the cards, which looked like the card-backs, turns to a shipboard fire, a strong blow in the rigging of a tall ship, and a fairy castle underwater.
It stays on the latter. It's the castle she's always imagined, based on what her Grandmother used to tell her of it. It's not the castle that she walked up to with Dworkin the magician. Like her imaginary castle of old, she's not sure if it's a practical living space or just her own fantasies.
"As long as you interpret the cards, they will have things to say. Like as not, those things are from inside your head. Trust us like you trust yourself. Or better."
Her gaze lingers on that fantastical castle, bedecked with mirrors and sparkling in its serene blue-green glow. It doesn't look real, not like a place where people sleep and eat and fill their bedpans at night. Where does one cook underwater? Where does one sew and use a blacksmith's forge and repair nets?
Still, her card-body sways toward it, like a compulsion she can hardly defy. "Interpret the cards," she repeats. "Will they always tell me the truth? 'Things to say' and the truth aren't exactly the same thing. Even if they are from my own head." The words drift away into dreamy reverie.
They drift towards the castle and the cards become fishes, although they still have their faces. It's very strange to watch fishes with the faces of people, but they don't seem to mind.
The White Knight laughs, but it's a thin laugh. "What source of truth do you trust more? Talking cards? Your eyes? An uncle who says he's King of Everything? Your grandmother? Lir the demigod of sailors? Old Stormalong? Davey Jones and Mother Carey?
"Do you trust yourself the most, when you know people are capable of infinite self-deception?"
If he wants an answer, he's not waiting for one. He looks more like a merman than a fish, and more like a fish with a card stuck on it than a merman.
As his form shifts, so too does Delta's into a sleek mermaid's form -- but fishy still, and yes, card-like as well. It's an odd combination, but she swishes through the water as if she'd always held this array of forms.
"The leaf on the tide doesn't trust or mistrust," she says as she tries to catch up. "It just goes." She circles in on herself once, sending a froth of bubbles upward, and then darts toward him again. "Blessed undersea, am I the tide now?" Reflected in the mirrors of Rebma's castle is a new expression of wariness on her fish-merfolk-card face. "...how do I interpret the cards like you?"
"You've always known the cards were people, or that was what you were told." He shrugs. "Sometimes we stand for archetypes, like the cards of the Fool or the High Priestess. Sometimes we are representations of mythic power and meaning, acting as a stand-in for a place, like my sister did in the reading for you earlier, as the embodiment of Rebma, and sometimes we are just what we are, two dimensional slices of three dimensional people, with all the flaws and contradictions and lies and truths thereof.
"And sometimes we are all that and more."
He pauses. "You should remember what your Grandmother said." He turns and is wearing a mask of her face over his. "The cards show you relationships and connections and it's up to you to discover what those mean, if anything."
The mask absorbs itself and he's still wearing both his white armor and her grandmother's face.
At the sight of Coral's face, even in the armor, Delta in her card-form draws close. If the altered Knight allows it, she sets her forehead against her grandmother's forehead and closes her eyes. "You could have told me more," she says quietly, with no hint of remonstration. "You should have told me more." She lets out a sigh, wavering and strange in this watery world. "And look how you've ended up, grim to the bone. Is your face on a card? Could I come to you, or you to me?
"...but you aren't her, are you?" she says. "Just a wise Knight with a slippery face." She gracefully pushes back in the water. "The leaf on the tide doesn't care where it goes. But I...find that I might. Care. A bit." She meets her grandmother's/the Knight's gaze. "What now, Knight? Is there more you have to show me?"
"Wise? No wiser than you, and you know why."
He turns to her. "The Strongman, the Priestess, the Undersea Princess, The Lion, The Unicorn, the Fool. Do you know what I have shown you?" Those six cards, which match the knight's story from before, flit past, before leaving her sight.
"I know," Delta says. She's about to say more when the water agitates, bubbles frothing in a rush all around her. The scene disappears in watery chaos -- no mirrored Rebma, no Knight, no cards. Instead, there's a hand tugging at her shoulder and the sudden cool of air on her overheated face. She lounges in a huge, full bathtub, its water still steaming.
A castle page - a young woman, small of stature and round as a berry - is leaning over Delta, her expression one of open concern. She wipes her wet hand on her apron as she says, "My lady! Goodness! You could have drowned!"
Delta looks at her fingertips, not even pruny yet from the bath she couldn't remember drawing. "Me, drown?" The memory of cards slips through her thoughts. She remembers their names and faces and the Knight's words, clear as day. Though...a dream? A dream. Odd, that; she rarely remembers her dreams.
She braces both hands on the vast tub's sides and emerges, only to be immediately wrapped in a massive, soft length of toweling cloth. "I don't drown."
"Good thing too, my lady," says the page. "It's dinner-time. Let's get you dressed."
Last modified: 25 September 2021