Aftermath

The wall and a section of the roof collapse inward under the combined efforts of the dragons and Jovian feels rather than hears the triumphal bugles of Antrith and her helpers and the echoes from the wings.

//She sees him!//

Robin blinks at the pile of stones rumbling to a stop over her... what? Destiny? History? For a moment, the Ranger gapes in disbelief. But the bugle shakes her out of it.

Siege and Avis are perhaps more stunned. Shocked and/or shaken would be your snap diagnosis.

"Antrith? Antrith?!?" She bellows out over the gale. "Dung, this is just what I get!"

Robin shelters M'corli within her arms and checks to make sure that Siege and Avis are alright in the violently upscaled weather. Blinking the rain out of her eyes, she searches around the courtyard - for landing room for the green and any archers or fallen priestesses that might be in the area.

The green is already on the ground - she's roughly half the size of Jovian's bronze, probably under 80'. A bit like finding a Coast Guard cutter on the lawn, but still.... The brown who was tearing at the buttress that just came down is closer to the bronze's size and has, in all probability, gotten the hell out of the way.

Observing from above, Jovian lets out a breath he didn't think he'd been holding. //Praise their work and tell them it's time to get the Shell out of there. Change of orders, we're directly back to linear time as soon as the ground team's mounted. Coordinates imminent.//

M'corli is moving towards Antrith and Antrith is, like a sentient self-mobile Coast Guard Cutter, moving into the rubble towards M'corli.

Siege and Avis aren't moving. Robin suspects it isn't the dragon or the rain.

For a moment, Robin's attention bobbles as the dragonrider leaves her arms. But a quick smile indicates her belief that Antrith is probably the best medicine M'corli could have at this moment.

Siege and Avis, though... that's a concern.

"Guys?" A gentle wap to Siege's shoulder. "We need to move now. We'll figure out what to do about that later." The Ranger waves a negligent sword in the rubble's direction.

A sympathetic smile is sent to the Danu through the unnatural howling hurricane, against the backdrop of enormous demons... err, dragons crawling through the central square of their city, from the midst of the ruins of their most sacred Temple. Yeah, the smile says, ouch. But let's get out of here to ouch about it at leisure, K?

Siege grabs Avis' (uninjured) arm and starts moving forward towards the dragon. Avis is remarkably not as concerned with the dragon as with the temple.

Robin doesn't hear all of it, even with her senses, but she would swear that Avis said something like "her tomb" to Siege.

Nope. Not gonna think about. Robin assures herself that, though she is naturally the center of any universe containing herself, the 'her' Avis is referring to had better be someone else. Granny Rilga or somebody.

Maybe you can ask someone later. No one will be disturbing it here for a while...

Avis is not any less white, just more mobile. It's sort of a walking shock.

M'corli is standing touching Antrith on the rubble. "Climb aboard. Four is a lot for a green, especially in this rain, so we won't be going very far." M'corli seems better, although he has not moved the dirty bandage from his eyes.

This mouthful from a man who was previously given just to groans and gritted teeth brings a smile from Robin. And she clambers quickly up the green hide with a chirpy "Nice timing, Antrith. Thank you."

As a note: he's been getting better since you got upstairs . He only moaned the one time after he came up the stairs. But yes, it's a pretty remarkable recovery.

Far above, Jovian gets a similar message.

//Antrith will need low coordinates right away. She will be heavily burdened.//

Once the Ranger is secure, she aids anyone else who needs aid to get into position. As she settles herself and her companions, Robin finds her spirit growing lighter. Her smile in the storm is not her usual wild grin, but a small sweet smile of growing contentment.

She is on the wrong side of the rocks! It wasn't her intention... but she hasn't spent a lifetime descending a stairway into darkness. She has been casually assaulted by one of her rat-bastard relatives. And - best of all - she hasn't been crushed or buried alive. This time.

Robin realizes that her grasp on what's Real or not may be a little... slippery. But - she's on the wrong side of the rocks! Yay!

A happy croon slips past the young girl's lips.

//Maranth requests coordinates for his rescue wing.//

//Good, give them to him and Hoshith, we're all going at once back to linear time.// The coordinates Jovian gives are for the mustering point whence the wings timed it to the battle, for a time tick a full five minutes after they left linear time. It's more margin of error than he probably needs, he knows, but with the Pattern-induced instabilities that have been lashed about this morning, he wants the breathing space.

Antrith rises, and the watching riders feel her strain as she lifts with four people aboard in the rain. She does not get very high before the low wings, Maranth and Hoshith and Antrith blink out of existence.

The not-being of riding the dragon between places is like a cold shock for the wet people and Robin counts heartbeats that are almost too surprised to race.

Black
Blacker
Blackest

and they break out over a place they left 5 minutes as well as some hours ago. Antrith immediately makes for the ground.

Above her, the rest of the wings of Calusa's finest become present in the sky. Jovian can sense the fatigue, caused by battle and time stress, in the dragons. If it's safe, they need to rest and lick their wounds.

[Say, Mark, when'd we go again? What time of day is it and what what the weather like when we left?]

[Jovian decides he's been in this shadow long enough to be comfortable messing with the time flow about a full day after he arrives. Say, dusk of the day after Robin's escape. First timing flight was then, scouting only.

[Immediately following comes the wing briefing. We go to a mustering point where big rocks are collected and Maranth practices the torpedo run. Say, an hour and a half total. Thence to the attack itself, which feels like it's taken less than an hour, but that was in non-linear time anyway so that hardly matters for this purpose.

[Our re-entry point into linear time should be approximately two hours after sunset, a near-perfect 24 hours after we found Robin. And, IIRC, the rain had tapered off late in the day and the clouds were breaking up by evening. On this side of Ygg, where temporal paradoxes can't happen , the Past-Perfect Storm must have Vered off to sea after hitting Mothersport....]

It is raining cats and ferrets. And the occasional llama. It's just coming down. Fat, heavy rain. Big fat wet slow drops. Lots of them. Visibility, almost zero. Ceiling, zero. The dragons don't like it.

And yet Jovian and Robin think it shouldn't be raining.

Jovian signals the wings to follow Antrith's example and land in the clearing that has served them so well. "Good job, everybody, but we're not out of the fog yet," the wingleader calls out. "Catch your breath; healers, get the wounded stable. We fly again in 30 minutes, I want out of this shadow before we sleep tonight."

He then strides toward Antrith to find a certain green-eyed bird brain of his acquaintance.

As soon as Antrith sets talon to earth, Robin throws a leg over and slides down. "Thank you very much, Antrith. It's been a real pleasure serving with you."

Boots hit dirt. "Medic! Two here!" The sweet drill sergeant tones of the Ranger as she reaches back up to hand down anyone who needs it. But despite the no-nonsense urgency in her tone and the irritated flick of rain-drenched hair, there's something almost... elated about Robin's body language.

Riders with medical experience converge on Robin and Antrith even over the noise of the rain. M'corli is led away by Kourin and another rider is looking at Avis.

Jovian arrives as the others are being led to a less-wet area.

The bronze rider looks a moment at the wounded, then back to his sister. "How bad? I assume the girl's Avis, what about your other objective?" It is possible his tension is only left-over adrenaline, but it doesn't seem a safe bet.

"Wellll, girl says she's Avis and Siege concurs. So I'll take that as done." Robin pushes her hair back from her forehead. "Other objective is a go too. But, bad things happened, J'rim, and I'm thinking...

"Hell. I'd like to drop these two off as close to Methrin as we can get without becoming politically entangled. And then blow this place. Buuuuuttt," those green eyes look up at the rain. Robin's ideas of time are barely past the 'It's sequential. Mostly.' stage. But the rain...

"Jovian? If we're when we were, I... didn't do this rain. In fact, I thought I couldn't find enough water in the air to do this kind of rain. Paradox?"

Jovian looks for a moment as though his sister's last word wasn't in Thari, then his expression closes like a slamming door. "Not possible," he declares with a lifetime of conviction behind it. "There are no paradoxes. Not possible this side of...."

He trails off, looking a little ill. "Chaos...."

A sympathetic look of 'oh, okay' crosses Robin's face and she reminds herself not to use either the seven-letter P word or the five-letter C word around Jovian too much. There's some things that no one needs to be reminded of constantly.

The sympathetic look only confuses him, but at least that serves to push aside the sense that he's discovered his sandwich is full of maggots by biting into it. With no time for confusion, his determined commander-mode clicks into place almost audibly and he continues:

"I've already given the order to fly in 30 minutes; I want to sleep in a shadow well removed from here tonight. I hesitate to say sooner without the healers' word on the wounded. If Methrin's on an island out of the path of the hurricane, we can stop there on the way out-shadow."

"Works for me." Robin nods sharply.

"Good. Are you in one piece?" Something about his tone implies a query deeper than the physical.

"Uh." Robin's eyes turn inward in diagnostic mode. A little wrinkle furrows the Ranger's brow. She licks her lips and opens them to speak. Closes her mouth. And looks up to Jovian, uncertainty swimming in those green depths. Eventually, she just shakes her blonde head.

But a chuckle escapes her and her eyes spark with humor as some of her former elation leaks through, "Feeling better about it though." Robin finishes with a grin.

"You?"

"I'm just fine, I think," Jovian grins. "Toss-up which of us had the easy part, but it was nothing that traumatic. We'll have to swap stories in more detail when we're somewhere secure."

"But while we're waiting for up-go, I'm gonna take a little look around. I... well, dung, Jovian. I want to make sure we didn't break Vere's shadow on the fly-through." She shrugs one-shoulder off-handedly.

"I definitely broke a big chunk of the magic they threw against us," Jovian admits. "And...well...frankly, I don't know how much stress two Amberites pissing in the time stream puts on a shadow. I did it more often than I should have in Calusa, but I never noticed any ill effect."

He looks up and around, as if scenting the air. "Something is definitely less stable. I don't know how much yet."

"Big chunk of broken magic. And other bad things. Time-stream. Got it. Let me get a little native fire going and I'll see what I can find. Siege or Avis might be able to get you aerial coords for Methrin." Robin smiles to her big brother, as her hands start twitching to get at it.

"Sure," the Shadowflyer nods, looking around a bit. "I'd like to send a rider with you, for communication in case you run into something. Or I'll tag along myself, if you like...?" The latter is clearly an invitation to converse privately, if Robin feels the need.

Robin thinks about it. "I - really want to talk, Jovian. But it's gonna take more than 30 minutes. So I'm thinking we're still on watch here. If you don't have anything better to do, you're welcome. So are any of your terrific back-up guys."

The Ranger grins and lightly punches her brother on the upper arm.

((OOC - I was wondering if Robin could take a little while to sense the Pattern in this shadow. I'm thinking a homegrown fire might help with that - in a scrying through the flames sort of a way. And if she finds any rips or rends, maaaybbee see about 'shaping Pattern energies' into a quickie triage? Dunno. Sounds dicey, but I thought I'd ask at least.))

[Scrying is strongly tied to water and Trumps, however you can sense pattern activity and you certainly feel as if you have an insight into the future, and yeah, something's wrong over in the direction of Mothersport. It's affecting the whole shadow.]

With or without a fire, Robin does determine something of the nature of the problem. She doesn't get much, but something is just wrong. The stuff of shadow, normally so responsive to her touch, flies away in tatters when she reachs for it. She thinks they could leave, but she doesn't think she could manipulate the pattern here, not without further damage.

There's definitely something wrong. Something of the "I know it's wrong, but I can't tell what, I can't begin to tell what might fix it, and I'm not sure if I should touch it again" variety. Something of the "I really don't want to reach in and try to feel which fuse is blown, since the fuse box seems to be underwater and I smell ozone and hear little sizzles. But hey, at least some of the lights are on. Were they always that color?" variety.

Robin recalls some of Julian's discussions of shadow and some of his more vivid descriptions of things that might go wrong if she wasn't careful. She recalls lectures that ended with dire warnings like "and there's the possibility that you'll make a shadow untenable and block your exits simultaneously. We wouldn't find bones to bury."

(During all this, since Robin apparently isn't actually wandering off, Jovian will be more or less minding the store - checking on the condition of injured people and dragons, seeing what he can observe about this rogue weather pattern, but leaving the actual sniffing around the integrity of the shadow to Robin, who's had more time with Julian at lessons in this stuff. He'll be easy to find when Robin wants to talk.)

The young Ranger squints through the rain toward Mothersport, one finger idly stirring the sodden ash in the puddle's surface. "Hunh."

Standing up from her crouch, Robin absentmindedly wipes her hand on her leggings, a contemplative frown still directed toward the... badness in what used to be Vere's home town.

Turning, she strides off to find her brother. "Jooovvee! Oh, there you are."

Regardless of what he is doing or whom he is speaking to, Robin will grab an elbow and drag her brother off somewhere private. Even though, she's figuring out that privacy and Jovian are mutually exclusive concepts. ;)

Once they are at least somewhat off to a side. Robin will speak in low urgent tones. "Jove? It's broken. Bad. We get out. We call Dad. Pronto-like. K?"

Jovian nods sharply. "Wouldn't it be more disruptive to leave and come back, though? If we call Dad from here, now, we only have to shift shadow once on the way out."

"Fine." Robin answers shortly as she pulls the precious, precious Trump from its interior pocket. "But if this place collapses under the weight of all three of us. Or if Dad has to deal with some sticky spider-bitch's webs. I'm going to point him in your direction." A game grin ends Robin's micro-tirade showing she means no harm, she just really really nervous.

Jovian raises a hand in a token defensive gesture. "Hey, you have a better handle on this part. You say we get out first, we get out first. I'm just not wild about shifting if things are that unstable. Your Trump, your call."

Robin stares at Jovian, fire burning behind her green eyes (1 drink). Then an amused snort ripples through her. "Okay. Gotta be in the place of no bickering now..." The light bulb practically pings into existence over her head.

"Tell you what. We'll ask Dad. That way it can be his fault." Despite the grim situation - or maybe because of it - one corner of her mouth cocks in a tight smile.

"Works," Jovian smiles back, pleased despite the tension. He positions himself behind his sister's left shoulder, looking over at the card. His hand hovers an inch above her shoulder, his questioning look seeking her assent.

A warm smile follows Jovian as he positions himself. At the raised hand, Robin thinks briefly then nods. And turns her eyes back toward the card in her hand.

Jovian returns the smile as reassuringly as he can and rests his hand on Robin's shoulder.

Though she means to be more business-like with this particular attempt, her heart quickly overwhelms her intentions. The call that flows into the card and out into the world is sad, mournful and desperate. A raptor's cry on the wind, a child's cry for her father from the darkness, wordless, lonely.

"Robin? Where are you? Bring me through."

Jovian reaches down and touches the cold card and says: "It's not that simple, Dad. This shadow may not be safe. We could use your insight on dealing with an instability." He is all business, hiding his discomfort remarkably well under the cirucmstances.

Robin quickly updates her father - almost completely without words. The knowledge that she and Jovian stand on soil claimed by Vere and Gerard. A powerful shadowling ruler who imprisoned her. Magic in abundance. And then, ... the scent of smoke like that on Black Road. A vision of the Temple, overlain by the faint image of a similar vision, again a taste of the Black Road. The altar pushed aside, Siege and Avis' pale unhappy faces. "Her Tomb." A thought, quickly pushed aside -- the Pattern glowing, tearing, broken and dark rumblings overhead.

She concludes with a strong sending of her impressions of Mothersport afterward, the feeling of shadow-stuff shredding away from her talons, the sense of extreme wrongness - her uncertainty that she can do anything but make it worse, the vision of flickering lights and lost bones...

"Jovian says he broke up a big magic over there too."

How much of Robin's jumbled emotions and impressions come through the link to Julian is unclear. The picture of him is clear now. He is in a deep forest, perhaps Arden, perhaps somewhere else, but alone, not even Morgenstern with him. He looks oddly careworn, even more than he did when Jovian last saw him.

What Julian says is: "Jovian." Then a pause. "My advice is best given when I can sense local conditions myself. Bring me through," he repeats, and extends his hand for one or the other of his children to take.

Robin jumps to, extending her hand and tugging. A quick grimace fleets across her face at the fact that her father and lord had to ask twice. Despite herself, tears form in the corners of Robin's eyes, hidden by the rain from those who may be watching, but evident to those in contact with her.

The Ranger's desire to see - and feel and smell and touch - her father is almost overwhelming her.

In what seems like less than a moment, Julian is through. He throws one arm around his daughter, gathering her in and cradling her to his chest, heedless of his white armor and perfect appearance. With his other hand, he gives the son who stands behind her a warm clasp on the shoulder.

Robin throws her arms around Julian in a desperate clutch, burying her face in his chest to hide the sobs her shaking shoulders reveal. All of Robin's longing and fears, desires and hopes come rushing up from her heart to choke her tongue and her mind. And she feels as though she could burst. But the strength of him, the sureness of him...

For a long moment, she is merely there - in his scent, feeling his warmth behind the coolness of his armor, hearing the creak of his movements and perhaps the faintest whisp of the beat of his heart.

Then he releases them both, and is his reserved self again. "Children," he says, "we have much to discuss in addition to this instability. Certain things have happened since I last saw either of you that have rendered my situation, and Arden's--more complex."

Robin steps back and wipes... the rain out of her eyes. Yes, that's it. The rain. But she listens to her father's words closely, noting the care in his eyes and the carefulness in his speech. She nods to show that she stands ready.

He stops and almost seems to sniff the air. "Where are we?" he says, in the voice of a man who suspects he knows the answer, and doesn't like it.

"It's the land of the Danu, sir." Robin adds, easing the stress out of her voice with awkwardly chosen words. "They speak of the God Gerard, his son Vere, and a founding Goddess named Rilga."

At this last, Jovian's eyes become enormous. "That temple was raised to our grandmother?" His face is the essence of horrified fascination.

Robin shrugs one shoulder off-handedly. She never heard any name associated with the Temple per se. She just knows her family has its little (or not so little) fingerprints all over this place. And apparently has for a long time.

"No," says Julian, who has apparently had his unpleasant suspicion confirmed. "It was raised to her maternal forebears. It was here before my birth." He lets out a breath, slowly. "I did not think Gerard had returned after Mother's funeral."

It is at about this point that Jovian and Robin realize that Avis has approached the Julianic trinity. Julian's gaze falls on her, and she kneels before him, casting her eyes down. "My lord?" she says in a questioning voice.

Robin steps back -- a dark shadow in the rain, a flicker of green eyes in Julian's wings. Watching.

Jovian screws his wing-commander face into place with remarkable speed, looking as much the cool, implacable, imperturbable echo in leather of the man in enameled steel as can be expected of someone who's just landed from a battle with archers and sorceresses.

The mantle of godhood falls on Julian's shoulders like another sheet of the omnipresent rain. "Rise, child," he says, raising her up and bringing her chin up to meet his gaze.

"I am Avis, my lord," she continues.

"Corvis' daughter," Julian says.

"She is the Lady now, and wife to Gerard," Avis continues.

"And mother to his son Vere, I gather, who fares well in Amber," Julian replies.

Avis looks relieved at that information. Then she steels herself to report the bad news. "I regret to tell you that the tomb under the altar at the temple of the City of the Lady has been opened and desecrated by Vianis, who has gone back to the old worship."

Avis has finally said something that surprises Julian. "Tradition dictates the Lady be interred at Fair Isle, as my mother was. It is where I would expect your mother to be if her city had fallen."

"She is," Avis confirms.

"Then who is buried under the altar?" Julian prompts her.

Reluctantly, Avis confesses it. "Your sister. Ysabeau."

First reaction? Not going to spit take. Not going to do it. It takes every ounce of Robin's almost negligible self-control to stay still. Though perhaps her eyes flicker a bit in the dark wet night.

But by a breath's time has passed, the Ranger nods quietly to herself. Sure. If Vere can have some half-blood sister here, why couldn't her father.

Maybe even a full-blood. Take her own self for example. Julian didn't even have a daughter until a few... what? months? ago. A sudden sister now shouldn't be that much of a surprise.

Robin's lips have curled into a understanding smile without herself noticing.

Jovian keeps his expression well-schooled - he's been exposed to a platoon and more of new relatives in the past week, after all. But he can't resist arching an eyebrow [1 drink] at Julian, a look his father may or may not deign to notice, as he scans the long, angular face for a glimmer of recognition.

Julian misses the eyebrow because his eyes are closed momentarily, and his face has an expression that, to his children at least, suggests that Avis has prodded an old and perhaps not-quite-healed wound. What he says is: "I did not know that her body had been returned to the Isles."

Avis says, "Your brother returned her after her death." She looks like there's more she wants to say, and she glances at both Jovian and Robin, then looks back at Julian.

Inscrutability has never been one of the Ranger's strongest skills. In fact, it's somewhere way down on the list -- near diplomacy. That being the case, Robin finally realizes that she's been smiling a bit inappropriately, and tones it down.

She also looks to Julian, letting him make the call on the timing and privacy issues.

Jovian's face is drawn for a moment with the effort of restraining himself from grilling this demi-semi-cousin on the subject of his lost aunt. But instead, after a beat or two of tense silence, he addresses both Avis and Julian.

"There is definitely some catching up to do, for all of us--" he notes with a subtle emphasis and a look of appeal to his father. "But it may behoove us to first address the stability of Aunt Ysabeau's resting place." His first trial of the name seems wistfully favorable, as if he were listening to a harper play a snippet of a particularly haunting air.

With some effort, he resists the temptation to quote his brother.

"We are in no immediate danger; if we were, I would have already called for a retreat," says Julian. "But let us retire somewhere more sheltered to discuss all of these matters."

Robin nods. It feels good to be beside her father once more, even if the weariness in his mien and voice concern her.

Julian, Jovian, Robin, and Avis all retreat inside, as the sensible folk have long since done.

M'corli is resting with Antrith. The healers have seen to him and done what they can, but they don't know whether he will regain his sight. They have also taken charge of Siege, and would like to deal with Avis' wounded arm. It takes a direct order from Julian to convince her to go with them.

Everyone also has an opportunity to change into whatever dry clothes they have. If Robin doesn't have any, someone will find something in her size, or she can conjure something. Julian, who didn't seem to have brought anything with him, has acquired a white shirt and dark trousers from somewhere. His armor is drying from the rain.

The Ranger's still a little iffy on conjuring in this place, so she will gladly throw herself once again on the charity of the dragonriders. Amazing how much luggage they can pack on their flying friends. :)

Jovian's wet flying leathers are carefully hung on a handy rock protrusion well enough away from the fire that the leather won't shrink as it dries, and presently he joins his family in dry clothing and relative privacy.

When Julian and his children congregate again, the dragonriders give them a respectfully wide berth. The only exception is Kourin, who brings a pitcher of klah and some cups by before beating a swift retreat.

Robin smiles her thanks. Probably to Kourin's back.

Once everyone has had a chance to take a civilized drink of klah (or what passes for klah these days, anyway), Julian says, "Let us begin by hearing how you two came to be in the Isles, and why you are concerned about their stability."

Robin's green eyes flicker to Jovian, almost guiltily but she knows that at least the start of the story is hers.

"I was shadow-walking, sir. Seeking yourself and Arden..." Robin squirms a little, "the true Arden."

Julian arches an eyebrow at Robin, but says nothing.

"After a few days, I was thinking about a hot meal and stopped at a little Inn on a hill. I was drugged, accosted and brought before the local power here - one Chancellor Vianis."

Julian's eyes narrow at this.

"When I proved uncooperative," a playful snort erupts from Robin - her uncooperative? Imagine that! "I was tossed in a dungeon. I broke out. And with the help of yon Siege, made my way to open ground. There we were further challenged by a force some forty armed thugs.

"We were in the process of being overwhelmed when J'rim here and his stalwart crew showed up." Robin beams her gratitude to her brother.

Jovian smiles back reassuringly toward his sister and picks up the thread. "For my part, we came here by coincidence, making our way home from where you left us at Ygg. I suppose I was thinking ahead to looking for Robin, imposing my will to find her upon our travel without being aware of it. At any rate, we came to rest at the shore of the mainland for the evening yesterday, just about the time Robin was calling up a little rain to hide her track."

Julian nods.

"The rain didn't feel quite natural. At first I tried resisting it, but then I realized who it must be and helped it along a little - and used her Pattern activity as a homing beacon to find her."

Julian nods again.

Up to this point, he has been fairly pleased to relate the tale, but then his uneasy mood returns. "When Robin told me the kind of trap that had been laid for her, I realized the caliber of opponent we were dealing with in this Vianis and that your Trump could not be left in her hands. The only way I could think of to foil a clairvoyant was to break out of linear time." Jovian meets his father's gaze directly, because that's the kind of man he is, but there is a sense that most others probably would not at this point.

Julian looks at Jovian, but says nothing, yet.

Robin ruffles her shoulders. "I think Jovian's also bugging because I gave him strong words concerning the shadow, sir. But... it's shifting under my hands, fighting me sometimes. And shredding away lately.

"And..." Robin's eyes lower and her voice grows softer, "what Avis was talking about? The Temple. I... it's mirroring things I saw on the Black Road. Sir."

Julian draws in a long breath. "The Black Road apparently has certain--predictive properties. As my brother has found, to his regret." He shakes his head, sadly.

Robin looks definitely... sick at that thought.

He turns to Jovian. "You did what you thought best with the tools that you had. If you have not been trained to use other tools better, it is not your fault." He sets back slightly, to include both his children in the next bit of discussion. "My sister Fiona once explained to me that the Jewel of Judgement, among its other benefits, allowed its wielder to work the weather with precision. I believe we have had a first-hand experience of why it is generally considered unwise to dabble extensively in weather manipulation without it."

"I intend to make time for that training, as soon as circumstances allow," Jovian agrees. "Particularly in means of countering hostile shadow magics, beyond simply pouring the Pattern's power into it until it breaks."

Ulp! Robin knows she's been caught with the baby hippogriff again. And dang it, she was really hoping it wasn't her who broke it this time. Again.

Julian continues: "It is no surprise to me that you were both drawn here. Shadows where those of the Royal blood have long dwelt are attractive to other Royals. This principle accounts for both the discovery of my missing brother Corwin in his day and your own coincidental meeting here. Gerard and I spent part of our youth here, as did our sister. But before I detail that part of the family connection, I should tell you what has passed with your brother since you last saw him."

The wingleader shakes his head ruefully, as if swallowing a weary exasperation. It is clear that he loves his brother, but thinks he's a bit of an asshole.

The Ranger knows that Julian (or Vere) won't forget, but for now she's glad for the subject change. Though the care in her father's voice... that concerns her.

"Daeon--Adonis--was brought to Arden injured," Julian explains to Robin. "Although I am still not quite clear on how that happened. On his arrival in Arden, Aisling attempted to heal him, and he took it amiss. He had to be subdued, but later recovered enough to dally with one of his attendants. Bleys' daughter, as it happens." Julian frowns here, as if something unpleasant has occurred to him, but he does not allow himself to be sidetracked from his tale. "I determined that he should come to the castle with us, and sent Vista to collect him, but this proved to be a mistake. He fled."

Gut reactions fan across Jovian's face like a hand of cards - between Robin's presence and the surprise of Julian not blasting him over how the past day's events were handled, his defenses are down somewhat. Aisling he considers with some affection; Daeon's rebuke of her stings. The idea of casual sex with a redhead mislikes him, raises a glimmer of suspicion almost. And his brother's flight brings back a weary dismay, with nothing at all of surprise back of it.

"The natural paths in Arden have shifted as a result of the storm," Julian says to Jovian. To both of them: "I was the only person present with both knowledge of Arden's near shadows and the ability to return unerringly to Amber who could seek him out. I left Fiona's daughter in charge of Arden, with Vista and Needle to help her, and sought your brother."

Robin's eyes narrow briefly, and then wander off into sadness for a moment.

"He had blundered into one of the near shadows of Arcadia. Robin, you will recall that I forbade anyone to use the paths to Arcadia."

She nods.

"Now that which has long troubled me has come to pass. Daeon's mother has four sisters, all of whom are rivals to each other; his mother has maintained supremacy by virtue of Daeon and his sister. His mother's sisters have waited for a chance to redress the balance. By trespassing in Calliste's realm, Daeon forfeited his life. I have bought it back, but the price will be war in those shadows. I will have to close Arden for decades."

The Ranger gets that wandering look in her eyes again.

Julian looks like he's considering his words very carefully for a moment, then abandons the consideration and spits it out. "In the due turning of the seasons, Calliste will bear me a son and a daughter to pursue her war on her sister."

Jovian has no small amount of trouble choosing between worrying over the deeper concerns of this disclosure and bursting out laughing. In the interest of decorum, he manages to chase humor from his countenance.

The Ranger tastes her father's words for a moment, her brow furrowed. Then turns big green eyes on Julian. "Sir? May I stand with you? When your children go to war on one another?"

Julian turns his own hawklike gaze on Robin, almost as if she has said something that surprises him. And, on a moment's reflection, perhaps saddens him as well.

"It may be that Arden will need you within her borders. It may be that she will need you elsewhere," he says.

"I hope we need not choose sides in this," Jovian nods gravely. "But I will stand forth for Arden's safety, if she is placed at risk."

In this company, the fact that he just said 'at my father's side' is too obvious to bear mentioning.

Robin's eyes have not left her father's, but a gentle cant of her head toward Jovian tells of how much she appreciates his words.

Eventually, she nods to Julian and drops her gaze. "Thank you, sir."

"It is I who owe both of you thanks; and I will owe you more before all is done," Julan says. "There is much more to be said, and many plans to be made, about the matter of Arcadia. I left the teaching of Daeon and Dione in their mother's hands, a mistake I do not intend to repeat with Calliste's children. But for today, let us close that matter, and turn to others. There is a great deal you must both be anxious to know about the Isles. Where shall I begin that tale?"

"The beginning is often a useful place," Jovian drawls in a passably dry echo of his father's tones, leavened by an undercurrent of satisfaction at Julian's uniquely forthcoming mood. "Who, and what sort of being, was our grandmother before she was King Oberon's wife?"

Robin's just observing and listening for now.

Julian says, "Well enough. My mother is accounted a goddess by the people of the Isles, although what that means is a difficult question to answer. The definition of nobility here seems to be 'divinely descended', but some are closer to the source than others. There are powerful magicks in this place. My mother is said to have commanded many of them.

"You will of course understand that I have heard these events at second or third hand, most of them having taken place before my birth. Neither my father nor my mother were sentimental enough to reminisce about the beginnings of their romance. "

He continues: "My siblings recall that it had been some time since Queen Dybele's death bearing my sister Florimel, long enough that she had grown to womanhood and taken the Pattern and departed Amber for the pleasures of Shadow. There were royal mistresses, of course--rumor had it that he had fathered at least one child on one of them--but no Queen. And as was his wont, he departed into Shadow himself at various times, returning afterwards to Amber with no explanation.

"From one of these journeys, a journey here, it would appear, he returned with my mother, and announced to my brothers and sisters that he had married her. And he crowned her Queen of Amber, to their dismay and annoyance."

He continues: "I suspect that my siblings sharpened the knives that they would later use on Queen Paulette on my mother, but she was stronger than the mother of Random and Mirelle. She immediately set to work becoming pregnant--the way a Queen of Amber ensures her status--and produced me. I was followed in short order by Gerard, before I was old enough to walk the Pattern myself."

"Knowing what I now know, I believe that Mother was tied to this Shadow somehow, and that giving birth to her children elsewhere drained her in ways she did not expect. Gerard and I have always been healthy, and so was Ysabeau in her day. But bearing and raising her sons exhausted Mother. I remember her as always tired." Julian shakes his head sadly, as if lost for a moment in reminisces.

"We journeyed here on occasion during our childhood, to know Mother's homeland. Mother wanted us to love it. Gerard has always been fond of the place, and of--some of its people. After Gerard walked the Pattern, Mother planned to retire here, perhaps to regain her strength. I suppose my father must have talked her out of it; I believe the decision cost her her life.

"Mother retired from the slings and arrows of Court and of her stepchildren." There's a certain bitterness to Julian's tone in that last sentence. "She gave herself over to good works: helping the poor and the countryfolk of Garnath. They had been much devastated in the war with the Moonriders and the economy there had never recovered.

He pauses, then, as if considering his words for the next part of the tale. "My father often visited Garnath to support Mother in her works. Apparently his visits were more than friendly, for Mother conceived again. She died in bearing Ysabeau, and Gerard and I returned her body to the Isles."

Julian looks at his children for a moment, then continues the tale. "My father had raised Florimel successfully, or rather, had had her raised successfully, and assumed he could do the same with Ysabeau. But he found my sister less biddable than his elder daughters; she was a wild girl, preferring Arden and Garnath to Amber and the Castle. Ysabeau quarrelled frequently with our father. After she walked the Pattern, she wanted to train with the Rangers. Our father forbade her to do this for political reasons and she went into self-imposed exile.

"Gerard and I had agreed when Mother died to stay away from the Isles, for reasons of our own. It was an agreement that I had no trouble keeping, though Gerard was always in love with Corvis. I am in no wise surprised that he returned and married her," Julian adds as sort of an aside.

"Ysabeau was not party to our agreement, and I believe that she did live here as a goddess, perhaps on the continent. She would have been a goddess, you understand, and to some of our kin this is an appealing idea."

He slows down again, choosing his words with care. "She contacted me, years later. She had left the Isles, for whatever reason, and was heavy with child. Ysabeau would have made a poor mother, and she knew it. She asked me to take her daughter in for fosterage. I did so, and I have never regretted it."

And he takes Robin's hand firmly in his own.

If Jovian is surprised, he's being extremely cool about it. There is something of an 'a-ha' glint in his eye, but it's more on the order of confirmation than discovery. Still, a wise man once said that no journey with an 'a-ha' at the end of it is wasted.

To find the Ranger looking up at him with warmly amused eyes. "Me neither, Dad. Ever." And she bumps him fondly with her shoulder.

Then stays within the warmth of his body, the scent of him, the sound of his breath and his heartbeat. Her smile is quiet and calm, though her gaze wanders off in thought.

Julian smiles at Robin, but says nothing. If he expected any other response from either Robin or Jovian, neither can discern relief in his demeanor.

Jovian's smile is warm and relaxed, not permitting the faintest shadow of question that his affection for his sister is unchanged by late news. A quick, firm squeeze of her other hand, and his gaze returns to their father, prompting.

Robin returns the squeeze.

"Since that time, as you know, I have been tied to Arden, for reasons both personal and political. With the increase in attacks from Shadow, Father's disappearance and the war, my responsibilities have kept me from travelling as I might have wished," Julian says.

"Some time ago, perhaps three decades, Gerard contacted me to tell me that Ysabeau had died. He said nothing of the circumstances of her death, but it did not strike me as coincidental that he fostered a child in Garnath at about the same time. The time differential here is such that perhaps two years pass in the Isles for every year that passes in Amber. I suppose he returned here to bury Ysabeau, and renewed his acquaintance with Corvis at that time. But I cannot say any of this with certainty; I am merely speculating."

This news draws from Jovian an eyebrow just a little too thoughtful to be truly Julianic. [Blake, put the scotch down.] He studies the featurs of the young Ranger who is and is not his sister with renewed intensity, his eyes set in the shrewd focus of a gambler sorting through his cards in a high-stakes game. "One of the cousins who did not join us in Chaos," he considers aloud. It is not a question.

Robin's eyes have been wandering and now her brow draws into a confused furrow. At Jovian's words, she looks up at him - her eyes still puzzled. Then a rueful laugh breaks out from the Ranger. "Dammit, I knew there was going to be a test on this crap sooner or later. Okay, lessee... including me - cousins who didn't go to Chaos was... 13. Last time I counted."

This news does not seem to shock the dragonrider particularly, not in the context of the three children his own father had kept quiet about these many years. The analytical look returns in his eyes, and it's clear he's making a note to get a full briefing on the composition of this new brood - beyond the four he met in the shade of Ygg.

"Really, Jove!" Robin holds up a free hand. "I was going to tell you. As soon as we got a quiet moment. Now, out of the 13, two are counted as Gerard's kids. Vere - of the sneaky and efficient mien. And Solange, who seems to spend most of her time wishing she was someone else. Or something else. I don't know." Robin shrugs off-handedly. "Unfortunately, I wasn't paying enough attention to remember which one of them was 'fostered in Garnath.' Solange?"

Robin looks to her father, knowing that she's committed a major family faux pas by not knowing her relatives' background - even after it was told to her.

"Knowing Vere grew to adulthood here, I think we can assume you're correct," Jovian responds neutrally. "It sounds like this news will be far more surprising to Solange than to anyone else."

He receives a shrug in response from Robin. Sure, logic points toward Solange. But with all of the universes of possibilities out there, plus tricksy aunts/uncles muddying the waters whenever possible... Robin doesn't put much faith in logic.

He then waits to see if his father has more to add before giving over to his urge to steer the conversation back to the matter - the shadow- stuff, particularly - at hand.

"Assuming," says Julian, "that Gerard has not already told her."

He turns to Robin. "You will know the names and lineages of each of your cousins before the coronation," he says, in exactly the same tone he used when he required her to learn the names and lineages of the hawks and hounds. "Your brother may assist you in this task, particularly as it relates to the names and lineages of cousins you have not yet met. The matter of their backgrounds will wait until after you have completed this first lesson."

"Yes, sir." The Ranger nods. It's a reasonable request, just a chore she was hoping she could avoid. However, Robin knows that one doesn't live long by avoiding the arduous. Especially in Amber. Soooo, cousins.

Jovian's echoing look is part sympathy, part appeal - hinting that the teacher will be barely a step ahead of the student.

A quick wink is sent to the bronzerider. If this is something she's going to have to do - and it is - then at least she can come up with some ideas to make it fun.

He turns to Jovian. "I have extended my senses somewhat since my arrival to determine what the best course of action for repairing whatever damage this shadow has sustained. I have formed some preliminary conclusions," and something in his expression suggests to the Shadowflyer that Julian doesn't like them, "but I would prefer to fly to the location of the battle to be certain of what am sensing. Being unfamiliar with the tactical situation, I will defer to your judgement on questions of safety of your dragons and riders."

"It's been 17 hours, 56 minutes, 41 seconds, linear, since we disengaged from the battle," Jovian reports with certainty. "This rain is still part of the monsoon that made landfall at the harbor 32 minutes before we returned to linear time - call it 18-1/2 hours ago," he relents with an apologetic nod to his sister.

Who's eyes were definitely glossing over. (But not glowing, so no drink. :-P)

"By now I surmise there's enough left of Vianis' battle fleet to supply Amber's tourist trade with driftwood sculpture knicknacks for about a year, but a little recon wouldn't hurt. They didn't put up much in the way of land-based defense, just a fistful of archers at the city walls. By now they could have more. As for the witch-queens, they've had an object lesson - breaking the storm-magic appeared to destroy the conjuror utterly. So they'll be more careful about showing themselves." The wingleader's grim satisfaction is colored with worry over the broader results of this. "As for the spider herself...." He trails off and looks the question over to Robin.

"Got away." Robin is grim herself and she chews on her bottom lip in thought.

Julian's nod suggests that he expected this.

"Sir? Vianis was looking to get Uncle Gerard here for some sort of ritual sacrifice. I don't think she'd have too many objections to using you as a substitute." The girl's voice holds confidence that Prince Julian is more than a match for anything this shadow could throw, but she does want him to know that the sacrifice angle was in the mix.

Julian nods again, unsurprised. "There are some dark aspects to the mother-worship of the Isles. They were supposedly stamped out, or had retreated to the continent, but in troubled times, such beliefs provide a comfort, or a scapegoat, to those who need them. As for Vianis, she is neither as old nor as crafty as she may wish to think she is. Raising my sister's ghost from her grave was an error she will regret in the future."

A quick dark smile dances across Robin's lips. If she inherited her attitudes from her mother -- then Mama is going to make for one hell of a troublesome ghost. Not to mention the ire of Dad. Yep, yep, Robin's thinking that Vianis might have really batted the old hornet's nest on this one.

He turns to his son. "Jovian, we will need to return Avis and her companion to Fair Isle. I leave it to your judgement and Avis' whether my presence will complicate matters. If you wish to ask her opinion now, Robin and I will join you momentarily."

Robin looks up at her father and then over at her brother.

"Yes, sir," the dragonrider nods, and his smile to Robin before he stands is warm with reassurance.

The Ranger smiles again to her brother, a grateful flicker dances through her eyes before she turns back to her father. And waits for him to start where he will. She is merely content to enjoy his presence.