Day Ten

Half a day after Fiona's return she receives a note from Ossian:

Dearest Aunt Fiona,
I have some strange papers I found among what was left of Brand's room after the earthquake, but they are written in code, or a language i've never heard about. Would you like to have have a look at them?

We could meet in my room (or some other place of your desire) Sunday at None.

Ossian

Fiona sends back a message:

Nephew:

I look forward to seeing you at None day after tomorrow and perusing your papers.

Fiona

When Fiona arrives Ossian will bid her welcome to his room "...and welcome back again. And thanks for coming."

"You know I'm not accustomed to having people like you around, people who know more about Brand than that he was a madman."

"Oh," says Fiona, "a lot of them remember it. It's just more convenient to forget it nowadays. The King waxed sore wroth with his son's attempted killer, and I don't think he's likely to give up his wrath soon. But it's often true that madness rides with genius, and Brand was a genius."

Ossian nods and smiles. "I was mostly referring to the time before the King arrived here. Anyway it's nice having people around who doesn't get angry at the mere mention of Brand.

"Shall we have a look at those papers?"

"Yes, let's."

When Ossian draws them out, she hmms a little. "The language is clearly of Uxmal," she says. "I can read it, but it's not one of my stronger tongues."

She carefully reads all of the papers as best she can, murmuring bits and pieces here and there as Ossian stands by and listens. "I can't make all of it out," she finally says. "It's technical, and I can guess at some of the content based on discussions I had with my brother. But for a detailed interpretation, you would need to find a native speaker, one with substantial metaphysical knowledge of his own."

"Uxmal? Where is that spoken? I have never heard about it."

"Uxmal," Fiona says, "is a Shadow where Brand lived for many years. It is nearer to Ygg than to Amber, and a rather dangerous place for those who do not know it."

"Seems all places out there are dangerous" Ossian says with a smile "You said you could guess some of the content. What is it about?"

"Matters relating to advanced Trump and Pattern mastery. Knowing how my brother conducted himself gives me particular insight into some of the meanings. But before you delve too much into what Brand's notes said, be sure you want to know the answers, Ossian.

Ossian smiles. "Thanks for the warning. I'm mostly looking for clues to my parentage. Right now, I am content with that and my painting."

"You won't find out who your parents are by reading those notes. I'm sorry, Ossian."

"I didn't have much hope of finding anything among them either. Yet, I had to have you check them."

"You may wish to discuss these papers with your cousin Brennan." That's as much a warning as any sort of an invitation: Ossian may not wish to discuss them with Brennan, either, Fiona thinks.

Ossian simply nods.

"You said you found these papers in Brand's quarters. Odd that they should survive when so much of his work did not. Where exactly were they?"

"In his bedpost. I don't know if he kept very much in the castle. I couldn't find more than this among the rubble, at least."

"No, I cannot imagine that he would have kept his serious metaphysical explorations where my father or Dworkin might find them. Perhaps I will explore the ruins of the old family tower myself and see if there is something else hidden there," Fiona says, seriously.

"Do that. You know, I didn't expect to find much of these sorts of things, but it also seems none of his art survived."

"Brand's style of painting was a little iconoclastic for the traditions of Amber. It is one thing to paint the way he did, and another for the steward to actually hang it in the hallways. Also, Brand was in disfavor during Eric's regency, which may have contributed to the removal of what little art of his was hung in the family wing," says Fiona.

Ossian looks sad. "I never understood why people cannot separate art from the artist. It is really a shame."

"In my father's day, painting was not considered a suitable pastime for a Prince," she adds, "so there was no question of his work being hung in the public areas of the castle."

"Heh. Will it be considered a suitable pasttime now? As you might have noticed, some of my paintings and other works hang here and there."

Fiona shrugs daintily. "That depends on Random and Vialle, I would say. I suspect Random is more sympathetic to artistic endeavors of all sorts than our father was. And the Queen seems to favor you. If Random leaves her in charge of decorating the palace, you will know better than I whether the place of your art is assured."

"We will see. I certainly hope that I, and Reid for that matter will be allowed to continue painting openly."

"I hope so as well. I've had an opportunity to see Reid's work; he's quite talented. And, of course, I would hate to see a man who's taken such good care of my daughter deprived of something he desired."

"You know what he wants?" Ossian asks with a smile "I certainly have no clue. He's nice enough, though."

"No," says Fiona. "I don't know what he wants, yet. But I plan to find out."

Ossian nods, grinning. "Another smaal thing. Aisling said there was a trump sketch of her somewhere. Do you know who has it?"

Fiona thinks for a moment. "I don't have it, and I'm not sure I recall who had it last. Merlin or Bleys, I should think."

"Ah. I'll ask them then.

small talk and end of thread?

Yes. Ossian is invited to call on Fiona again sometime soon.

Will Jerod be available to speak with Aisling for a bit in the time between her talk with Cambina and the poker party? I forget what time Jerod sent the invitations, but I'd guess she'd try to get in touch with him two or three days after that. The note would read (and she's writing with a brush, not a pen, for what that's worth):

To Prince Jerod, from Dame Aisling,

Greetings.

Have you time for a brief discussion about philosophy sometime before the Coronation? I find the castle's delightful Gardens conducive to such thoughts, at all times of the day.

-Aisling

Assuming we place Aisling's conversation with Cambina on day 8, then on day 10, Jerod will reply...

Dame Aisling...

I will be available for a discussion of philosophy later today. The Rose Garden will be satisfactory at None.

Jerod

Assuming Aisling arrives on time, she will find Jerod sitting in the garden with two other individuals in attendance. A man and woman, approximately middle-aged and probably from an immigrant family or background. The man sits slightly back from Jerod, a peregrine falcon sitting on his mailed fist. The woman sits closer, holding a larger bird, dark brown with clear white feathers below and glaring yellow eyes...an osprey.

Aisling hangs back unseen and spies on this for a couple handfuls of minutes.

She approaches smoothly, not alarming the birds, bows slightly to the group, and speaks quietly, "Good afternoon, Prince Jerod." She glances at the other two.

Jerod is examining the left wing of the osprey when Aisling arrives and he motions silently to her to take a seat.

Aisling's brows arch a bit, and she smiles, and introduces herself to the man and woman in the meantime, and chats with the man about the birds; all the while not alarming the birds, for she knows from raptors. She watches Jerod's work with a familiar eye.

She'll find that the man, while he is courteous, will not initiate conversation with Aisling and is very quiet when he replies. It would appear he (and the woman) are more connected to the work with the birds than they are to the mundane world around them.

Just in case they become relevant later, what are the names of the man and the woman and the birds?

The names of the handlers have not yet been approved so they will be provided once good names are determined. As for the birds, the peregrine is named Kina...the osprey is named Youshun.

[Jerod] works patiently, without speaking as the woman holds the bird, treating it like spun glass. He studies the break in the feathers that needs to be mended before dipping a sliver of bone into a small resin bottle, using it as a support for the damaged wing and carefully threading the wing feathers together. Although intent upon his work, he is curiously relaxed and finishes the work shortly. The woman gives a short nodding bow and moves a few feet away, never disturbing the osprey who remained silent throughout the procedure, merely glaring at those around it.

Jerod smiles when the work is done and motions to the man, taking the falcon from him and looking at it, watching it intently as the creature hisses, momentarily disturbed at the movement.

"Yes...yes, I know." Jerod says, speaking to the bird. "I've been very cruel and ignored you for far too long, my dear. I will make no excuses for my conduct." and he strokes the bird with a feather, letting it preen itself for a moment before it settles again. He seems relucant to let it go but in the end he hands her back to the man.

"I will arrange some time in Garnath soon." Jerod says. "We will fly them both then." and the man and woman bow and depart, leaving Aisling with Jerod.

Aisling bows slightly to the two in farewell.

"Dame Aisling...what can I do for you?"

Her eyes still following the falconers, she remarks with a faint smile, "I find it interesting that a man from Rebma has taken up falconry."

"I would have thought your spying operations during your stay here would have told you why I do it." Jerod says. "My father taught it to me...part of growing up in Amber. Do they not have such practices where you come from?"

"The social conducting of hunting creatures, or helpful fathers?" Aisling asks, a joking tone in her voice. She smiles, answering his question straight, "Where I come from, everything is idiosyncratic; there are no groups, but only individuals."

"Everything is peculiar or unique?" Jerod asks, though he does not expect an answer. "I wonder how comparisons are made if there are no comparable frames of reference. No wonder they call it Chaos.

"You mentioned a discussion of philosophy?"

"I am curious about your perspective. What would you say the difference between 'men' and 'women' is?"

Jerod chuckles. "Why don't you go speak to my sister." he says. "I'm sure she'll tell you exactly what I think the differences are...assuming you haven't already."

Aisling will get the distinct impression that Jerod is setting a trap for her and he's doing it deliberately so she can see it coming. How she avoids it (or doesn't) would seem to depend on how she responds and what she says.

Aisling shrugs. "Your sister suggested I not talk to you about it." Jerod gets absolutely nothing from her; except maybe a faint echo of challenge.

"My sister has presented you with a fait accompli. Why would you continue?"

There's a fleeting expression of bafflement as she listens, and then she smiles, eyes alight, "Most probably," she remarks, "your sister and I have different perspectives on you."

"Perhaps you'd care to provide your Chaosian perspective to me then. I'd be curious to see how you interpret what is around you." he says, settling back to relax.

"Oh, and before we begin, just for the record. The answer is no." he says, smiling.

Aisling looks puzzled. "I do not comprehend the question you do me the honor of answering."

"You will soon enough." Jerod says. "Let us discuss for the moment your perspective."

"Well," Aisling says politely, "but it seems to me that it was your perspective we had set out to discover."

"Perspective is always relative." Jerod says. "No pun intended. In order to understand what you think my perspective is, you must understand your own to see if there's anything that might inhibit a true understanding."

"Well," Aisling says cheerfully, "that is easily enough answered! For I assure you, there is no one in the universe who understands my perspective so well as I do. But I see that you are troubled. Tell me, why is it that you fear I might misunderstand you?"

"Oh, I wouldn't be too troubled by the misperceptions of one little spy." Jerod says.

Aisling raises her brows. "Ex-spy, my dear Jerod."

Jerod smiles. His expression could be interpreted along the lines of "We'll see..."

[Jerod]
"I merely wish to be sure that there is no miscommunication between us. The nature of differing cultures seemingly demands that such events occur. And a discussion of philosophy seemingly invites such events because of its reach into the metaphysical. I would not wish you to be unduly affected by such an occurance. I've noted in the past that such situations can have most unpleasant consequences. Consider it rather a sincere concern for your continued well-being..." and Jerod smiles a little.

"Why, Jerod, that almost sounded like a threat!" Aisling says with a cheery demeanor. "Yet you have avowed an allegiance to clarity. In the interests of avoiding misunderstanding, then, why don't you explain why you're so loathe to answer my question. Did you accept my invitation for a discussion; or do you intend to waste more of my time, drain as much from me as I will allow, and then leave me with more of these inexpert prevarications? You will note; my memory is long, and I dislike riddles." She's smiling; it's not toothy. Maybe a bit steely, though...

Jerod laughs a little. "And yet you come looking for an answer to a question you will not voice because you will not approach it openly. Who is the pot and the kettle here? You dislike riddles, then let us be direct because it is what I prefer. Why did you ask concerning a discussion of philosophy? I think it had nothing to do with philosophy and was rather a means to try to acquire an invitation to Martin's little get-together prior to the coronation. I'm thinking something along the lines of why were only men invited?"

Aisling's streamers swish out and back once, like a cat's tail lashing, and Jerod can see that below the neutral politeness, there is a forge currently alight with anger. "You think that I would invite myself into-- That's--" She exhales, mastering herself.

Jerod does not seem to respond to any physiological changes to Aisling's appearance, and she would remember that he has fought, and killed, many Chaosians during the battle of Kolvir. He seems to be enjoying the situation...watching her reactions to his comments, cataloguing information.

"You do both me and yourself a disservice to suggest that I do not desire to discuss the philosophy of 'sex' with you," she says cooly. "From that, yes, the question 'why were only "males" invited' arises, along with many others. But you presume that I would do this for an invitation to a single party, for myself alone--?" at this, Aisling is once more holding anger in check, regarding Jerod through narrowed eyes.

"Ah...so you do it on behalf of what?...a cause greater than yourself perhaps?" Jerod asks, not condescendingly, but with a hint in his voice that says he questions the motivation - as if it serves as a convenient cover.

"Perhaps you thought it a very sexist thing to do? To refuse to invite any of the ladies of Amber's court to such an event? Surely an outrage to them, a vile insult...women of power and talent who have carved a place in this society by their skill and wits? Despite all the misogynistic barriers placed around them..." he says, with what must be confusing - an utterly sincere belief in his comments about Amber's ladies.

Aisling weathers Jerod's spring shower of sentences ending with up-turning tones. Jerod may get to feeling like he's repeatedly stabbing a practice dummy, while Aisling stands by patiently watching, her sword up.

"Perhaps," she suggests mildly when he winds down, "I have a vision of a society where beings are not sorted by the shape of their form, but by the quality of their character." And then, eerily mirroring the exact motivation-questioning intonation of Jerod's first two questions, "And what cause do you serve, son of Eric?"

"Why Aisling...I expected better of the you than that." Jerod says. "You wanted to know the difference between males and females...men and women? Well, guess what." and he leans in conspiratorially.

"There are no differences." and he watches for her reaction before continuing.

Aisling has all the reaction of a reflecting pool on a dead calm day.

[Jerod]
"There are differences in people because we choose to put them there. Men in Amber are supposedly better, to be in charge while women take a secondary role. The roles reverse in Rebma. But those differences at the core are imposed by an outside social will, because the differences are determined to be of ultimate benefit to society."

Aisling smiles slightly and flexes her hand.

[Jerod]
"People in that society accept for the most part the differences required because they provides security, structure and social cohesion. You buy into them, even if you don't agree with them, because they give life meaning and purpose."

Her brows arch once more.

[Jerod]
"A social rebel fighting Amber's misogyny normally accepts it at face value, because if they do not, they cannot reconcile their own place in life to their surroundings.

"Those differences give rulers power over others, and define the social contract between rulers and the ruled. Everyone knows their place, what rules to play by. It's the basis for all societies short of total anarchy. But, what happens if someone recognizes the inherent limitations of differences and chooses not to be bound by them, not even by the differences of equality?"

There's a pause as Aisling makes sure he's not going to say any more. Then she smiles. "Why, the world dissolves into Chaos, and I win," she mocks him, the corners of her eyes crinkled.

"Wrong." Jerod says. "Chaos vanishes and Order is imposed. The Order of The One."

Aisling does not look fazed.

"For a being who claims to desire forthright talk, Jerod, you take an awfully long time to get to the point."

"On the contrary. You have not spoken to any of your elders here I suspect for long. They can take months to get to the point, assuming they ever do." Jerod says. "I am remarkably blunt, in my own roundabout way. I just make sure no one mistakes my intentions. At least, not unless I want them to.

"Now that you have the answer to your question, is there anything else? I suspect the answer is not what you might believe it to be."

"You do not believe there is any difference between 'men' and 'women'," Aisling says, laying out her hand as if she cups this opinion in it and is weighing it. "Yet, in your perspicacity you have already realized the question following naturally from this: 'Why, then, the curious guest-list of Martin's party?' It seems to me," she gestures with her bandaged one-fingered hand, in what otherwise would have been a gesture symmetric to her other, "that your answer to this is that to follow your beliefs, instead of the traditions of Amber, would be to lead to a regrettable lack of Chaos here." She regards him with an open expression, "I am ever hopeful that you will correct any misapprehensions I have aquired, however, for I am most interested in coming to understand you as a person with whom I may be interacting for the next several centuries."

"Consider this while you're wondering what it will be like interacting with me for several centuries." Jerod says.

"Your friend asks you to arrange a party for them and provides a specific guest list to you. You agree to arrange it, because this person is your friend. Question - do you adjust the guest list to fit what you think is best for your friend, or do you carry out their wishes?"

"Ah," Aisling says at the news, with a small smile and head tilt. "Did I not suggest that this philosophical discussion would be brief?" Her eyes crinkle up so that she's nearly winking.

"What are the whys of Martin's guest list, though...?" she muses.

Jerod says. "A friend does not question the reason for the list...they help their friend because their friend asked. That's called trust." Aisling will get the impression that Jerod's interest in the conversation has just dropped...drastically.

Aisling looks at him as if he just pulled a mushroom out of his pocket and waved it at her... Something like a "politeness in the face of the inexplicable" look.

Then her face drops a bit. "You feel, once more, that I have asked you to betray Martin's trust. This is not my intention." She meets his gaze unwaveringly. "A friend does not treat a friend as merely a thing that occasionally provides him with pleasure. He attempts to understand him. This is called caring." She exhales in a near-sigh. "Were I to ask you what color Martin's eyes were, I do not think any of us would fault you for answering. Since I do not know him, however, I cannot know what aspects of him you two feel should be protected. I can only guess at the ranges in which questions are polite; and ask, hoping that you will realize I do so accepting that answers need not be provided."

"Then know this." Jerod says. "My friend is someone I understand very well. More than anything, I know he gives his trust to very few, though he is friendly with many. He does not give trust easily or quickly. And once given, that trust is a fragile thing, a weapon that can wound him more than you can imagine. It is worth more than anything you could offer, anything that Oberon could have offered. I tell you now so you will not make the same mistake in the future - never equate my friend with an object for my amusement. I will not be nearly so reasonable as I am now."

Assuming Aisling remembers Eric very well, she can see where Jerod gets his fire from - an endless pyre it would seem, fuelling whatever emotion he is feeling at any given moment.

Jerod would have no idea where Aisling gets the ability to let all of this wash over her changeless.

He takes a deep breath, settling the neutral face of Court over his expression once again. "I know reasonably well the reasons why Martin called for this gathering, even if he did not explain them to me. I also agree with his choice of guests, from the perspective that I believe he would be viewing from. Were I concerned about his choices, I would make my concerns known to him. I am not concerned. You can always try to go to him and see about getting him to change his mind, but I would not recommend it. I suspect it would not turn out well for you. Consider that as...friendly advice...on how not to start your first few weeks here on the wrong foot."

Aisling's eyes narrow the tiniest bit. "I do not want him to change his mind about his gathering. I do not want to buy him from you. I do not want to break his friendships apart. Hear and remember, Jerod Ericsson." That last had a kind of rumbling echo to antiquity, as of some ritual. "I will approach him with the respect I hold for him, and it would be easier for me to demonstrate this respect if I knew his whys. And when I know, only then will I decide if I do not agree with him."

Jerod chuckles a bit. "You will not break that friendship apart. And you will not buy him either because there is nothing you can pay."

Aisling rolls her eyes.

[Jerod]
"If you ever garner his trust, it will be because you have earned it, without manipulation, planning, or deception. Plan your approach to him, and he will detect it. He will feel your plan behind your words and your voice and he will know that you have something up your sleeve - another endless member of our treacherous little family who he must be on guard against - and you will lose at that moment. It will not matter what your intentions are. It will matter only that you planned for a specific outcome.

"If you claim to respect him, then respect his wishes. But do not attempt to analyze him to better make your approach. Because then all he becomes is an obstacle, to be overcome in order to acquire the prize of his respect. A very family behaviour in that regard - you would fit right in."

Aisling snorts. "I do not deny you your love of pontification, Jerod. In return, do me the honor of keeping your advice within the realm of sanity. Family or not, he knows full well to be on guard against anyone who approaches him for any reason, and most who do not. Do not pretend that ignorance is beneficial, for I am older than you know."

"Then your much vaunted age has not given you the understanding that age does not automatically equate to wisdom." Jerod says. "Had it, you would have recognized what I was saying was not to condone ignorance, but rather a means by which to approach him that he would see you for what you are, and not a threat."

And with that he rises.

Aisling rises as well.

[Jerod]
"Our conversation is concluded. Do not come to the party without Martin's direct permission. If you do, I'll toss you out on your ass. Good day."

"I'll say it for the fourth time. I -never- -wanted- to come to the party." She bows slightly to Jerod in farewell.

And with that, Jerod departs to deal with other affairs.

I shudder to start another bit, but I've been thinking about this for awhile, and it seems to me the kind of thing Aisling would have asked sometime in downtime in the good deed doing, such as after the Grousing bit...

Which is, she'd ask Folly why there was no evidence of Corwin's new weapons. She'd've guessed that something that dramatic would be impossible to contain...

Folly admits to not really being an expert on such things, but her understanding is that some aspect of the weapons is difficult to manufacture and maintain in Amber -- like how nobody here makes clockworks or stereos (this last is said quite wistfully). And what with there not being any Shadowpaths anymore, it's not like anyone who isn't Us could import them in large quantities.

This will necessitate a detour into a Folly-provided explanation of "stereos"... :)

And as long as I'm at it, at some point (and anyone who wants to be there can be; this could've been asked anytime) Aisling would want to get a point of Masquerade etiquette clarified... Are you supposed to pretend to not recognize people that you clearly do recognize, while they're masked? And if so, what are you supposed to converse about?

Folly tries to explain the concept of coyness to Aisling. :)

Could you be more specific? "Coyness" has different flavors...

Folly suggests that while one probably shouldn't go so far as to pretend not to recognize one's own escort, one might, if feeling playful, address others without coming right out and acknowledging their true identities. For example, Folly would probably recognize Baron Kaliq no matter how he was dressed, just by his bearing and the rhythm of his footsteps against the floor. But because he is a bit playful himself (at least around Folly), she might carry on a conversation with him in which they didn't openly acknowledge recognizing each other, but instead coded it into their choice of conversational topics (music, for example, which they both love).

As a completely contrived example, let's say Folly is dressed as a lion. Then they might have a conversation like the following:

Kaliq: Even a small lion such as yourself must have a fearsome roar. I wonder, will you be unleashing it tonight?

Folly: Perhaps not, for it frightens the villagers, who are already worried I might sharpen my claws on the good furniture.

So they've managed to have a meaningful exchange ("Will you be singing tonight?" "Probably not, I make some of the people here nervous and so it would probably be too disruptive") while staying completely within the bounds of their "secret" identities.

Of course, Folly's conversations are laced with double meanings much of the time, so this kind of coyness is very natural for her. Simply expressing appreciation for someone else's costume idea and then moving on to normal conversation would also be completely appropriate.

Make sense? :)

That's great. Aisling is totally happy with it.