Another Knightly Meeting - Now With Jovian!

Sometime on the day Jovian returns, the Knights sort themselves out and go off to talk over the order. Aisling's probably back in Korean-male mode.

Seeing this 'mode' for the first time, Jovian is a little more than bemused but less than agog - she's turned into a five-eyed, tentacled lion-bull, so why not an Asian dude?

[Aisling]'ll start with, "Alright. We've not got anything hard and fast; we'd come to the conclusion that each Commader will propose a roughly equal amount of Knights, whom his Majesty will honor us by knighting personally at his coronation. The Knight-Commanders will come up with ideas of actions, and the Knights will get to join actions they wish to. These ideas will be quite individual..." Aisling grins. "There's no reason it can't be a cross-shadow organization." He looks thoughtfully to the ceiling, and then to his fellows, "Does that about cover what we have, organization-wise?"

"That's all we need to settle before tomorrow, right?" Jovian considers aloud. "There are three dragonriders I definitely want considered for the order, possibly five. Most of them will want to return to Calusa, but I have promised to open formal relations with my home shadow when things stabilize, so that need not be a liability." He returns Aisling's grin at this. "How are nominees being selected? Are they to be presented for collective approval?"

Jovian's brow furrows a little. "And as far as the tasks go, I presume we won't all be haring off in different directions. That there will be consultation and coordination in deciding what tasks the order will take on. And that we'll be hearing from the Crown on that subject as well." This last with a sardonic twist at the corner of his mouth - the 'Ruby' the order is named for is the King's tool, but some tools have minds of their own.

[Brennan]
"Those, more than anything else, are the topics to be settled. So far, we've had absolute and complete silence from the Crown as regards the Order, except for the idea that perhaps Random might Knight our first Knights for us. I think he intends to see what we make rather than imposing order on us. Could be wrong.

"I personally see the ability to create Knights as a personal ability, not a group ability, not unlike emergency battlefield promotions and the like.

"I think we had come to the conclusion that the six of us are unlikely to have interests similar enough to really be happy with a single core mission or focus, anyway, and forcing the issue would be a bad idea. I proposed each of us creating Knights according to a broad set of public ideals-- leadership, valour, sacrifice, innovation or quick-thinking-- and Lilly suggested the private ideal of character.

"I don't think there should be any formal divisions in the Knights, but that seems like a good way to get a broad pool of candidates from which to draw for all occasions, whether we're dealing with something from far away, or right close to home."

Brennan's a pretty clear proponent of informality and individuality, here, and he's trying like Hell to avoid the formation of political lines. Which is a good trick, since he doesn't know (or care) which way they'd fall.

"All of that is Brennan's way of saying that there should be no problem knighting your dragon riders." Lilly says. She's relatively deadpan and yet there is something teasing - though definitely condescending - about her manner. With each passing day she was becoming more and more comfortable with this group of people. As her comfort level increased her guard seemed to drop ever so slightly revealing that she was not entirely a Benedict clone.

[Lilly]
"If there is anything you would like to add or suggest, now would be the time. It would be good for all of us to be on the same page before the ceremony."

Jovian hears these worthies out, lightly pinching the edge of his lower lip between thumb and forefinger, intently studying a map only he can see hovering two points to starboard and one below the horizon. At Lilly's tone he glances up at her, the corner of his mouth twisting sardonically.

"You have confirmed my best expectations in determining this to be a working order rather than a laurel to rest on," he nods agreeably to the circle in general. "I had been thinking we could serve the function of the Crown's troubleshooters, and that trouble comes in all sorts of shapes - so we're agreed on diversity of talents among our number instead of a purely martial bent, though judicious application of force is definitely in our resume'." A wry smile for Brennan here.

"I do think that if we want to avoid breaking down into divisions and politically charged rivalries, we should have some measure of unity of purpose. At minimum I feel we should agree to keep each other fully informed - the circle of Commanders, not necessarily the whole order. Whenever practical we should compare notes to ensure that we all have the benefit of our combined knowledge - in this I would include instances where a candidate for knighthood is known to more than one Commander. I also believe it's reasonable that we six should be in agreement on any task the order as a whole agrees to take on. Not specifics of the means to handle it, but agreement that we as an order should handle it."

Brennan says simply, "It's good to have you back, Jovian." Which is, before Lilly can point it out, Brennan's way of saying he agrees.

Jovian smiles, nods his thanks for the acknowledgment.

"In fairness, then, Aisling knows something of my proposed Companions. They are: M'corli, green Antrith's rider. Kourin, gold Hoshith's rider. V'laren, bronze Hyloth's rider. M'hall, bronze Rakshath's rider. And L'tarn, bronze Maranth's rider." The way he says the names, it is clear that "(dragonname)'s rider" is as natural to him as "son of (father)" in many other cultures. "M'corli proved his place in Robin's extraction from the Isles of the Dannan. The rest you know," he clarifies, with a bow from the neck toward Aisling.

Marius smiles. "I would strongly encourage that the homogeny be emphasized over the individual's sponsor. While we have," he explains to Jovian, "I think agreed that the choice of Initiate is the Commander's and not the Order's, I would like to see us all comfortable with calling on anyone throughout the Order and still be of certainty that those Knighted can be trusted to accomplish what we expect our Chosen to accomplish."

Brennan nods. He thinks that this had been somewhat up in the air when last they met, and Aisling suggested it. He didn't get a chance to vocally agree, but he shows definite agreement, now.

[Marius's] smile grows slightly wider. "While I expect I will have some natural prejudice for those I have Chosen, I would like to feel that there is some common quality in them to those that Brennan or Aisling have Chosen, as well."

"Lilly's 'good character' criterion?" [Brennan] asks.

[Brennan]
"A finer point to be addressed, I think, is what level of obedience to expect from the Knights and in what context. I'm sure Amber has something of a precedent there that walks the line between slavish obedience and complete insubordination," Brennan adds. "Not something that needs to be settled right now, I think, just something to think about."

[Marius] shrugs slightly, tilting his head and looking slightly feral for a moment, as a thought occurs, but it remains unspoken.

Brennen waits for it to be spoken.

"Agreed," Jovian nods. "Which is why I advocate advice, if not consent, as regards new companions of the order. And advice and consent for our mission."

At that odd look about Marius, the Julianic eyebrow makes its first formal appearance.

[Mostly to Marius,] who's lived in Amber long enough to know her customs and sensibilities, [Jovian asks,] "Are we expected to have some sort of damnfool knightly regalia ready for the coronation?"

Brennan is agnostic on the matter of regalia, as long as it's simple. No bloody plumed helmets or anything silly.

Aisling grins. "We'd mostly decided to wait on regalia until your return. I think something very simple, like red sashes, should hold us for now..."

Jovian nods, once. "Sword baldrics," he suggests. "About a hand's width, red leather. Companions' unadorned, Commanders with a brooch, maybe a cabochon ruby?"

"My only request was for something that would not interfere with my ability to draw my sword. Jovian's suggestion seems both practical and appropriate. If everyone is agreed I can see to having the baldrics created." Lilly offers.

Marius shrugs, but doesn't argue. "Baldrics will be in and out of fashion as time wanders through. Will it suit as well for the ladies?" he asks. "While I would never impinge on the right of a Cousin to wear a blade, there are some of the fairer sex I may propose for the Order who would not be so prone to the martial. Should it be worn only on official business?"

"I feel that this is an excellent place to once more demonstrate values of individual flexibility," Aisling says with a grin. "So long as it is red, and crosses the body, it will serve, in my opinion. Some may want to wear it to baths and to bed; I do not think this would trouble the Order as a whole overmuch."

[Jovian]
"Of course, I'd think wearing the order's colors would be optional 'off-duty' most times. There may in fact be times when it's discouraged to wear them on personal business."

[Aisling] nods to Jovian; "As for the ruby, I favor the idea; it occurs to me that rubies carved with whatever personal arms we have, are we to choose personal arms, would be significant."

Jovian's brow knits at this. "I hadn't thought personal symbols would be appropriate in what's essentially a service rank insignia, but customs may be different here. I was thinking it should echo the Jewel that gave the order its name."

"In that case, why not finish the job?" Aisling asks with a bit of the devil dancing in his eyes. "I'd suggested this earlier... Some beings may get the idea that Random's Jewel is a useful artifact. If we can create some confusion by making replicas of the Jewel to indicate the Knight-Commanders, surely it would be in the interests of Amber..." He's grinning.

"Ingenious," Jovian nods. "Pretentious, but ingenious. My gut reaction is twofold: Only in battle, and only after consultation with His Percussiveness."

Aisling smiles at the term and shrugs at the rest, a shrug of not-particularly-being-invested-in-the-outcome.

Marius' smile is more evident after a moment. "There are times when I have seen a ship raise its Captain's flag, but unless it is a pirate, it carries its nation's for all to see." It seems to be his contribution to this particular end of the discussion.

Maybe he's just worried that red just "isn't his colour."

"As I've stated before I truly have little opinion on our symbol. It may be cliche but it is what is in our hearts and minds that truly matters to me. However the one thing we do need to decide upon, is how visible we wish to be. Do we want such a grand symbol that is can be identified easily and without dobt? Or should we go with something a bit more difficult to discern. I can see merits to both options. Something along the nature of our namesake though would fit, in my opinion, into the first category." Lilly offers.

[Aisling]
"As for matters of philosophy, I find myself in agreement with all that has been said so far. And for other practical matters, I think we're each thinking of roughly 6 knights; and I rented a small inn in the city, for the meantime until we decide what sort of long term physical base we want... A few of the men who had difficulty with their living arrangements upon their return are living there now."

[Jovian]
"My people are encamped at Ruby Falls - appropriately enough. I presume they'll all be going home after coronation...." He trails off, leaving some concern unvoiced.

Lilly glances briefly in Jovian's direction. It is a look of friendship and compassion. His personal concerns may go unvoiced but Lilly has enough of her own to at least feel she understands. For the moment though she maintains her silence.

Aisling, back in streamered-female form, returns from powdering her nose, smiles and nods to Jovian. "Jovian. Like I said, glad to have you back in one piece."

Jovian stands and gazes for a long moment before responding, the open, admiring gaze that he first regarded her with (and she missed) a lifetime ago on the rim of the Abyss. The look of one taking in an intriguing, strangely beautiful work of art and longing to know the soul that gives it life. If he becomes at all self-conscious about staring, he covers it by simply making eye contact when he speaks.

"It's good to be back," he says at last. "I was a little worried about you too, I'm happy to see you well."

"Well..." Aisling says, kind of uncomfortably.

"...Jovian, I was planning on speaking to you as soon as you got back. It seems to me you might be considering me romantically...?" She's standing almost stiffly, if such a thing is possible for her.

(Indeed...what are the streamers doing?)

They're at rest spread out behind her, and still (which is slightly unusual).

The dragonman is taken aback by the question, to judge from his silence through two or three blinks, though his face is fairly impassive. "I was told not to expect such directness from relatives," he reflects, managing a passably Julianic evenness. "Must be the Chaos side of the family."

His eyes drop just slightly and he snorts a near-silent chuckle at himself. "To say I'm 'considering' such a thing sounds awfully logical and mechanistic, almost what I'm told to expect from Vere. In my experience matters of the heart aren't truly amenable to logic; if you have read much of the popular literature up this way you know that's a classic theme." He checks himself, as if wondering whether he's starting to sound like his Danu cousin, then meets Aisling's eyes again, directly, frankly.

"I hadn't gotten that far yet, Aisling," Jovian says. The depth of his gaze allows no dissembling, yet clearly he is gazing as much into himself as into her. "I don't think so. There is certainly something about you that reaches me in a way I had not expected. I do want to come to know you, even understand you. And my brother's mistreatment of you leaves me sore at heart. Is that enough to add up to 'considering you romantically?'" The question is probably rhetorical; he seems convinced of the answer for himself.

Kind of.

Aisling is resolute in the face of the extreme discomfort of the discussion. "Don't get that far," she says. She's directly meeting his eyes, her attention focused on him, on speaking clearly, "Jovian, I could not return any affection you would feel for me. It's a matter of honor; nothing to do with you personally. As such, any shows of feeling would be awkward, and they would be unwelcome." She's hating this blunt cruelty, but continuing nevertheless. "Please, put any such thoughts from you. You should not be so quick to discount the attitudes of your brother, for he is your family, and his actions are not without basis."

He wants to ask. Every cell in his body and fiber of his soul is screaming for him to ask. But the effort shows in the twitching at the corners of his eyes where he does not let them close, the bunching of muscles at his jaw. He needs to ask...but if it kills him, he will not.

After a moment that hangs in the air as if suspended from a noose, he lets out a long, slow breath. The tension in his face drains, but his shoulders do not drop. For all his passion and blazing willfulness, he is Julian of Arden's son.

"Don't hurt yourself over it," he says at last, in a tone that is unstintingly gentle. If there is disappointment there, or regret, or sadness, it is entirely untinged with bitterness. "I'm a grown-up, I've been here before. You have your reasons, whether they make sense to me doesn't matter. But know this, Aisling of Madoc, upon the shell that hatched Faranth: You have one ally in this place who will never turn his colors. You have one friend you can trust with your back. And with your secrets," he adds, softly, leaning in just a little.

Aisling's emotions are still kept from her face. Jovian's offer hangs in the air for a moment or so, and then she says quietly, "Thank you, Jovian." She inclines her head to him and takes a tiny step back, suggesting (but not requiring) an end to the session.

His face is, if anything, more confusing for the utterly unshielded honesty of his expression, his emotions more difficult to read for their conflict. He quite clearly considers and rejects at least three things to say.

In the end he only nods, his eyes lowered, and seems to back away just a fraction without actually moving. What this costs him is unclear.

She bows slightly, then, and leaves.

He watches her go, and watches the space she left for a while after. The scent of lilac on an ocean breeze is slow to fade from the room. The fireplace is behind him, and no one is there to see what the light may or may not do to his eyes anyway.

After a length of time he chooses not to know precisely, he turns to the sideboard and takes up a glass, pouring three fingers of the first draught that comes to hand. He drinks, without tasting, and stares at the fire while time does not quite pass by, a funereal procession of moments that move to a dirge and pay their unfelt respects to his state as they file through.

Catching their gaze, he winds back his arm and hurls the glass into the fireplace...then sits, and rests his face in his hands.

//It is a pleasant night to fly in, if you want.//

He does not answer.

//Did you lie to the Fledgling?//

//I don't think so.//

//But you did not tell her everything you needed to.//

//That's right, ya big lug. I didn't.//

//You do love her, do you not?//

//Don't ask me that. Don't ever ask me that.//

Some dignified amount of time later, perhaps fifteen minutes or so, Brennan enters the room.

"Ah, Jovian, there you are. I've been looking all over for--" by the time Brennan gets that far, he's actually looked at Jovian, and sees the open bottle. He changes his momentum, heads to the bottle Jovian has poured from, and decants himself a finger of whatever it is he's drinking.

"Wasted your time, cobber," Jovian replies neither unkindly nor kindly, and kills another mouthful of the distillate. It must have touched his palate, Brennan would be sure, but there's no indication. "Been right here all along."

[Brennan] makes the mistake of taking a whiff of the paint thinner before pouring, and heroically (heroically!) stifles his grimace.

"What are we drinking to?"

"To Chaos," Jovian responds drily. "Love it or leave it." He drains his glass, then deep-sixes it in the fireplace. Given that the throw was from a sitting position, there's some decent power behind it. And it is evidently not alone in its fate.

"Memo to the Castle architects. All fireplaces in future construction should have parabolic back walls."

"I remember that place. Big battle, lots of fire and blood."

Brennan tosses his shot back, and reacts with a momentary expression of horror, commensurate to having willfully quaffed a shot of Reid's turpentine. Good thing Jovian didn't see it. Brennan eyes the bottle to see how much of it is gone, then side-arms his glass into the fireplace.

"We won, right?"

"Yeah," he allows. "We won." Jovian looks at the bottle again, but thinks twice this time.

"Did you spend much time out there, Brennan? Before, I mean. In your father's decent moments, did he let you get to know the people of Chaos?"

"...Yes and no," he says hesitently. "Jove, I took off when I was thirteen or fourteen, and never looked back. It was so long ago I don't even know how old I was. We didn't hit the social circles." He gives a gruesome chuckle. "What would the point of that have been? And if he did, there's not much reflections from a thirteen year old kid could say.

"But... I've done a lot of nosing around that end of things. Spent a long time out on the weird side of the Tree. Met one or two people I'm convinced had a connection with the Courts proper, one or two more I still suspect. Picked up a little bit here and there.

"Why?"

Jovian tilts his head to give Brennan a sidelong look from under a sardonically cocked brow. "I suppose I'm questing after a reason to believe my own delusions," he explains wanly. "But I'm wondering if there isn't something very important I ought to understand about how they view personal relationships." His tone can't fairly be called sober, but he hasn't hit maudlin yet either, even as he returns his meditative gaze to the flames.

Brennan puffs his cheeks out while he thinks about that one, and how to phrase an answer. "What an odd question to come up," he doesn't say.

"First," he says slowly, "Understand that I am not exactly expert, here. I'm weaving observations together with hearsay and supposition into a net, and I'd hate for there to be a hole through which something... important... might fall and break." He meets Jovian's eyes to make sure he's understood.

Jovian's attention is unswerving and as near to sober as anything about him can be just then, but he otherwise does not react outwardly to this.

"Second, well, it's cliche, but I'm not sure there's a single unified view. It is Chaos, after all," and there's no pun inflected. "Everything I know-- admittedly imperfect and incomplete-- suggests that in Deep Chaos, personality is as fluid a concept as physical form. I don't know how universally true that is, or how the changes correlate, if at all, but remember Benedict's Rules of Etiquette for the Funeral."

He stops to let that sink in. All of it. Including their respective points of reference on the subject.

"It gets weirder than that, from my understanding, but that right there is enough to tell you their perspecive on relationships has to be... different."

The dragonman nods, ruminating over this with some care. "And yet," he thinks aloud in his effort to make things fit, "it was rather pleasant to be able to idly build up a larder...." The intonation and pacing are spot on. If he'd felt a need to be ironic, or mean, or bitter, he could have added a resonant deepening of his natural tone; he either made a point of not doing so or honestly felt the fundamental opposite of such need. Brennan, being more perceptive than a turnip, does not miss this.

Brennan lets that rattle around for a pregnant pause's worth of silence. "Well. You may have some problems, then."

There's understanding and a certain degree of sympathy in there, such as is appropriate from a man who's been through it before, to another man who's been through it before.

The banalities go unspoke, but the sentiments are there-- willingness to talk a bit if it might help, implicit conditions of confidence, willingness to try and answer other questions, etc.

As befits a man who has been through more than half a normal human's span, but still has whole new worlds ahead of him, Jovian reflects but does not ramble - lubricatedly if you will, but he is not notably maudlin.

Prominent among his thoughts: "She understood what the loss of those dragons and men meant to us - and cared." (It is clear that Jovian does not cotton to the 'only shadows' rationalization of some of his uncles.)

A sudden, somber thought occurs to Brennan, but for the moment he chooses not to air it. Besides, he'd have to explain more stuff just to make it comprehensible.

Jovian arches a questioning brow at Brennan's momentarily arrested demeanor, but lets it pass if Brennan does.

Brennan chooses to hold his peace, for the moment.

And, ruefully but without rancor: "I can't believe Daeon would treat her like that, when she was knocking herself out to help. He's my brother and I love him, but man, he's an asshole."

That, too, sparks a thought, but all [Brennan] says is, "There may have been extenuating circumstances. I don't think he was entirely lucid. Even for him."

"'Even for him,' indeed," Jovian nods. "I suppose he could have been delerious, or otherwise not entirely in the moment. I hope so, for his sake and all of ours. We can't afford that kind of strife among us."

"I wasn't there, but my understanding is, Aisling tried something special and unusual."

"The healing arts as rendered through a Chaos shapeshifter - upon a shapeshifter not of Chaos. Something I should ask my father about sometime, I think."

Brennan nods, soberly.

Julian's son lets a longish pause hang in the air, then dismisses his reverie with a shake of his head. "But you came looking for me," he reminds himself with a minor surge of energy and warmth willed into being with some effort. "And my personal issues weren't on your agenda. You have the floor, Sir Brennan."

"Actually, you've already brought it up. I think we need to compare notes on your brother."

"He certainly is a topic," the dragonman chuckles ruefully. "Where shall we begin? I presume you're thinking toward how to get him back."

Brennan gives a little grunt at the back of his throat. If he put some effort to it, it would have almost been a growl. "For the moment, I'd settle for what do you know that I don't, and vice versa."

"Could be a tall order," Jovian reflects.

[Brennan] puts his cards, as it were, on the table first, marking carefully what's hearsay and what's not. "Here's what I know. On the way home, something happened to Lilly and Daeon. They went astray, and got trapped in some story-telling contest with some beings we've been calling the Rock Creatures. This was all deep on the other side. They broke loose when-- get this-- Daeon told Lilly to stick him with that blade of hers. Anyone else, and I'd raise an eyebrow. So she stuck him, and I guess he fell on the blade harder than he intended.

"I have yet to figure out what he was thinking. But near as I can figure, they took this as a blood sacrifice and decided that was better than a story contest. Your brother gets sent through the various Trump relays and ends up under Conner's care. This much you probably know."

"Daeon is all about this god thing," Jovian notes, without rancor but with a touch of puzzlement. "I don't understand it all completely - we didn't have gods where I grew up. But he's obsessed with life cycles - seasonal cycles, birth and death and rebirth. I'd be not at all surprised that some kind of sacrifice, exactly, was his intention. Nor would I be at all surprised that it didn't work as he planned it; he just doesn't seem to grasp the concept that he doesn't bring Arcadia's rules with him."

Brennan's eyes narrow a bit at that. "Jovian, that's as good a description as I've heard for what Artemis actually did when she came roaring in. I didn't see her up close. I heard Morganstern screaming from halfway across the Vale, and by the time I got there, the Rangers were beating feet away from the place. The woods were coming alive and mists were springing up from nowhere.

"I've seen a lot in my time, but not many things compare to that. I don't like that it can happen right on Amber's doorstep, either-- oh, Hell, that reminds me. Have you heard about the Family Heirloom in the basement?"

This breaks the deeply disturbed concentration Jovian has been giving the descrption of Artemis' incursion. "Glowing. Kind of spiral. Theoretical blueprint of the universe. That family heirloom?"

"Yeah, that one. One sitting on cracked bedrock, now." He waits for the reaction to that little piece of good news.

"Cracked," Jovian repeats, much the way one might say 'yellow' after waking with a bad hangover, looking out one's window and seeing a large yellow bulldozer bearing down on one's house.

"We're still here. We can still work Shadow. Ergo, Oberon did succeed. But the Pattern is...cracked. Did all the light leak out the cracks?" he asks in a sickly tone, knowing the answer already.

He nods. Of course. But hey, on the bright side, this application of Total Perspective Vortex therapy has left Jovian with things to mull over other than his love life.

Remind me to do something equally nice for Brennan real soon now. :-P

"What about Rebma, and Tir," asks Julian's son, not waiting to take the next step. "Still in contact? Possessed of an intact scribble?"

"Rebma's in contact through Corwin. He brought a delegation back with him, which proceeded to accuse Conner of high crimes against them. Neither of them shows up at the appointed location relative to here, though. Indications are very strong that Rebma's design is intact. By inference, I suspect Tir's is as well."

"Corwin," Jovian tastes the name on his tongue as if sipping at a strange herbal tea for the first time. "I gather he did something precipitous around the time we were mustering in Chaos, but I haven't heard exactly what," he prompts.

"What do you mean... precipitous?"

"If I knew I wouldn't be inquiring. I know he had a special assignment. I know he did something involving the Jewel - taught Random to use it after the battle anyway, and by inference he must have been involved in stopping Brand from using it, because who else could? And now he has some means to Rebma that we in Amber don't." He jiggles the pieces a bit in his mind, trying to make them fit. "Anything involving the Jewel is likely to have broader implications, right? It's more than just a weather tuner, any seal can plainly foo."

Brennan is clearly caught on the horns of an internal dilemma. That much is clear from his face, because he's not trying to hide it. "It's definitely more than a weather tuner," he agrees pointedly.

"All right, your turn, so what do you know about this?" Jovian asks with a kind of resigned annoyance. "You seem to want my perspective, it would do to have the facts."

His face falls, and he lets out a sigh. He is not enjoying this, not at all, caught between the compulsion of security and the imperative of friendship. He forces himself to look up and gives a good attempt at spearing Jovian with his eyes.

"What do you think Oberon was doing with it, before he sent it to Corwin?" He shakes his head. Too abstract. "What do you think Brand wanted with it?" There's enough venom in his voice when he mentions Brand's name to have filled one of the glasses they just smashed.

He holds Jovian's eyes, or tries, hoping his cousin realizes that he's not doing this for fun, or because he's an asshole. But Jovian is more sensative than a brick, even a brick named Brennan, so that's not too much of a stretch.

For a second or so, Jovian's returning stare is steel on flint, or a clash of twin green lightsabers. But as he works it through, the tenor of his consternation changes. "We were keeping the Chaosi off the Black Road so they wouldn't stop Oberon from...oh, Faranth's teeth." Jovian shakes his head, covering his eyes again. "The Pattern. The Jewel was instrumental in fixing the Pattern, wasn't it? And Brand thought he could, what? Redraw the doodle in his own image? Leave his mark in the repair and take control of it?"

Brennan lets go of Jovian's eyes, and takes on something of a thousand yard stare, right into the fireplace.

"The existance and signifigance of squiggles and doodles is a State Secret, as I undersatnd it. If what you said is true," he enunciates very carefully, "I wouldn't even begin to know how to classify it. If what you said is true," he repeats, "I'd have a Hell of a dilemma trying to figure out who ought to know, and who ought to be kept dark."

"You certainly...would," Jovian observes impassively. "And if it were a true inference, say, that Corwin did something Brand had tried to do because he thought Oberon was going to fail?" He ponders the consequences of this, in parallel with Brennan's stare.

"Well," Brennan responds carefully, "If that were true, then it might explain why Corwin was able to reach Rebma so easily, and why we don't seem to be able to get there from here." He doesn't bother quirking an eyebrow for the fireplace's benefit.

"It wouldn't be the only explanation. But it would be a good one. If it were true."

"If it were true," Jovian muses, "it would follow that Rebma's is now a reflection of a different Pattern, wouldn't it? I mean, would a pattern Corwin hypothetically drew be a perfect match to the original? It seems to me that if an adept could get a look at the pattern in Rebma as it is now, she - or he - might be able to tell if there was a difference. If all this wild speculation were even remotely related to the truth," he amends. Ha ha, only deadly serious.

[Brennan]
"If all that were true.... maybe. I dunno. I'm not even fully convinced that Rebma would be a reflection of something different, merely that it's relation to other landmarks would have changed. I know more about breaking them, than fixing them, and I doubt anyone knows much about conflicting ones.

"I do know," he says, "that if all that were true-- Hell, if any of that were true-- that I'd want a good look at all the squiggles involved."

"All of them," the younger man nods. "However many that means."

Brennan looks at his fingers, counting, postulating.

"You're awfully familiar with this stuff, for a military man who's never spent time in Amber." The tone is curious, not suspicious in the least.

"Family history," he quips. He looks into the fire for a bit, then gets up to pour himself another finger or two of window cleaning fluid. Then, "Why do you suppose I'm here, Jovian?"

Jovian catches something in the tone of that, and against better judgment joins the warrior-redhead in another glass. "I assumed there was a particularly bitter falling-out between you and the Late Unlamented," he restates the obvious. "From what I'd gathered about the man, there could be any number of possibilities at that." His tone is studiously neutral.

"Squiggles are damaged by our blood, Jove. That's not speculation, that's fact. This last round of nightmares-- from the Black Road on-- started when Brand stuck a knife in one of our cousins. If I had known, dammit, if I had just known I had cousins, I would have made sure everyone knew."

He scowls and starts to bring the glass up to toss back the shot. Doesn't make it, though. He's holding the tumbler so tight it shatters in his hand.

"Dammit!" He pitches the larger fragments still in his hand into the fire, along with a light spray of blood, before looking for a towel to wrap his hand in.

[Note to GMs-- bandage is probably still on his hand during the Memorial and Poker Game.]

"Shit and crackdust, Brennan!" Jovian is up and moving before Brennan throws what had been the glass. "Let me see that," he insists, grabbing a few cloth napkins from the sidebar and laying one on the table.

If Brennan permits, Jovian will submit the multiple small wounds to a quick inspection, pick out a stuck shard or two with fingers remarkably nimble and precise considering he's been drinking. He then hands his own glass to Brennan. "None bad enough for stitches, I think. Hold this. Internally if you like." Another napkin will be subjected to a dousing of the strongest, cleanest distillate in the bar, then swabbed over the wounds to clean them before wrapping in the third linen. The whole process is barely more than a minute's work.

Brennan permits. Initially he holds himself stiff, less from the pain than from the unfamiliar contact, but he forces himself to relax. The second shot that Jovian hands him helps that process.

"Why do you suppose I'm here, Jovian?"

The younger man puts it together fairly quickly for a bronze rider. "It was going to be you. Wasn't it? You left him, roamed Shadow all those years until you could take up arms against him, because he was going to use you. To do..." He gestures vaguely downward, toward the basement. "That."

Brennan nods. "Yeah. It was an existential question, though. I exist because Brand wanted to destroy it. That's why I'm here. Anywhere." Once it's out, he says it matter of factly. Bitterly, but matter of factly.

"So you can see why I took a natural interest in it, yes? And taught myself as much as I could? I never thought about cousins, though." The bandaged hand is curled into a fist, again.

"Surely," the dragonman says gravely. "Start with the 'enemy of my enemy' thing, and it gets better from there...." He shakes his head in contemplation. "At least you can truthfully say as long as you're not a sacrifice, that your nature and purpose are what you've made of them."

Brennan gives Jovian just long enough to dwell on how that might really sound, before NOT throwing a barb. Rather: "A colder comfort than you might imagine, all things considered. But that is why I take an interest in affairs metaphysical. I learned very early on that these issues concern me very directly. It's been rough with no tutor, though."

The bronze rider nods thoughtfully at that. "I've had other things demanding my attention, so I'm less tutored than I'd like to be as well. We should both be able to rectify that when things settle down a little." He snorts a short laugh. "I've been saying that a lot lately. Things will settle down some eventually, right?"

"This is settled, I think."

"Here's where it starts to get weird and annoying. With [Daeon] shows up a flower: unit each, quantity one, type firelilly." Brennan pulls out the sketch he'd made previously, and enunciates carefully. "It started a fire in Conner's medical tent." He lets that one hang in the air...

"That flamelike shape in the center is actual fire, then." Jovian frowns at this, teasing out thoughts. "Is it true, what I've heard about beings of Chaos having flame in their veins? Or was that just wild rumor and tall tale?"

"Some of them might. The Big Dumb Blue Demons didn't flame out. They just looked stupid when I sliced their hands off one after another."

[Unless the GMs just didn't bother to include the flames in the description.]

"So flame rising from blood doesn't necessarily point the way I suspected. That's some small good in all this," Jovian reflects with consternation.

[Brennan]
"Not necessarily, in so far as I know, etc, etc.

Jovian applies the usual disclaimers with a shrug and a nod.

"[And] yeah, that's real fire in the center. I don't like 'em. I don't like 'em on principle, and I don't like 'em sprouting near Amber."

The dragonman nods silent concurrence.

...then [Brennan] follows up chapter one with, "Then [Daeon] encountered Paige-- have you met Paige?-- and disappeared."

"Heard of her," he confirms drily, with a tone that suggests he's heard plenty.

"...Yeah.

"Meanwhile, more of those cured firelillies start popping up, leading into Arden. They all have incendiary properties, and the best guess of the day is that they sprout along the path your brother walked, and bled. Lilly says they were sprouting around the Rock Creatures, too.

"Then, by and by, Morganstern comes back bearing Daeon. No sooner, though, than a creature reliably reported to be his mother Artemis comes in, blows through Brita and Conner like they weren't even there, and carries him off. You saw the results of that from the air, no doubt."

That's the situation as Brennan knows it in broad strokes.

"It seems to me," Jovian offers in a slow drawl not quite reflecting his father's, "that it's become very important to know what, exactly, it means to be a god of Arcadia. What sort of being that makes one, at bottom. A shapeshifter, we know. Where does that power derive? Does it relate to Chaos in any meaningful way?"

"I don't know, but I think we probably ought to. I can sit here and theorize all day long. I theorize that they're a mirage of Chaos on this side of the Tree, and there are similar mirages of order on the other side. I theorize they're not directly connected, which is why the Healing went so far wrong. I theorize a lot of things," he finishes, without any conclusion.

"And have only a handful of facts, and a limited set of options for test cases," Jovian agrees ruefully. "Wait. You say Pattern works in Arden like in Shadow now...have you tried just solving for their absence, seeing if you can subtract them from the landscape? If they're an anchor to a serious Reality vector," he pronounces the capital, "you shouldn't be able to, right?"

"No doubt I could find a Vale where the flowers are icy in the center, too, but it wouldn't be the same Vale."

[At least, that's how I as a player interpret these things. This strikes me as being something Brennan ought to know.]

[Jovian] picks up the sketch again, giving it a long, hard look. "Did these start springing up in Arden before my father left again?"

"I'm not sure. That first day was a nightmare of running back and forth, organizing, kicking ass, and then an enforced social hour for the Family. I don't know exactly when Julian left, and I don't know, other than the one Daeon brought with him, exactly when they started sprouting.

"It was Caine that noticed them first."

"But there was only the one in the medical tent, they weren't just springing up under him, right? Only when he started moving."

"As far as I know. Caine didn't mention them until an impromptu council out in the Vale a few days later, after Marius woke up."

Wheels are turning in the wingleader's head, big nasty spiked wheels. "I don't like it either, not even a little. Except that I bet we can follow wherever Artemis took him...."

That thought doesn't cheer him much at all.

Brennan will take his triumphs where he can. In this case, the triumph is that another Adept agrees with him about the significance of everything that's happened. "I expect we can. I expect that's how she found her way here from thsi Arcadia, and that anything else stumbling across is can use them as a visual referrent. We need to investigate this as soon as physically possible, as far as I'm concerned, which probably means right after Coronation. Following the dictates of Brennan's Fourth Law, I think we should get Lilly, Marius, and Aisling, decide on a course of action before Coronation, and then implement it as soon as possible afterward, before Random has a chance to assign us other tasks.

"Something on the order of how many should go, who should go, and what it is we think we're going to do once we find out if there really is a trail through Shadow. And what to do if we find Daeon and/or Artemis, in broad strokes."

He thinks for a moment.

"And nominate the poor bastard has to tell Random that half his Knights-Commander just went running after another one of their number."

"If they do lead into Arcadia, Brennan, we do not follow without my father in on the plan." Jovian's tone brooks no argument on the point. "Who and what lives in Arcadia is on the Weird Shite to Research At Distance list, and he's our only real resource. Besides, at some time fairly soon, we have reason to expect open warfare in that part of Shadow - Dad's talking about sealing off the area."

"If you have a Trump of him, that's easy enough. We can start without knowledge, and contact him once we've established more what's going on." By implication, Brennan has no such Trump.

"Any part of it that remains out of the greater Arcadia area," Jovian agrees reservedly. "Meantime, I'm afraid we've got a Trump shortage issue all around."

"Well first we need to establish if it really does cut Shadow. As for Trumps, you haven't got one of Julian? Ouch. Perhaps one of the others do. Failing that, I expect I could borrow one from Bleys. I know just how to pitch it to him to get him agree, I think."

There's the echo of a Bleys-like grin in Brennan's tone, if not at his mouth.

"I've only managed to get hold of one Trump," Jovian admits, "and it won't be much use to us for this. Good luck with Bleys."

"All right, I'll ask him next I see him."

[Jovian] concentrates for a moment on derivative equations written invisibly in the fireplace. "More important than where they go, to my mind, is what they're connected back to. I don't have the training to read lines of power not drawing from the Pattern, more's the pity. But we're clear they're not strictly natural, and whatever is producing them is also, certainly, a way to track them - and use them in Carruth knows what other annoying ways." He snarls at the fire in a silent demand for the equations there to solve themselves, dammit.

"Just let's not let Florimel see them, or they'll be in cut arrangements in every fashionable home in town. And then we'll have to rebuild the whole damn city."

Brennan gives a grim chuckle. "No, I don't like it either. A very potential path through Shadow, drawn at least in part with our blood, into a war zone when our defenses are down. Somewhere, Brand's shade is laughing at us all."

While Jovian is trying to solve the metaphysical equations, Brennan is concentrating more on the logistics of who is likely to be able to go, to want to go, and to have the right skills. "Maybe who goes should take some actual Knights with them. Make 'em earn their pay."

"What about your sister? Is she reliable for something like this?"

"Robin," the Shadowflyer smiles, "knows Arden like I know Farpoint. She'll do. But then, Dad will probably want her to stay close as his right hand in securing Arden's borders. And, well...." He is obviously made uncomfortable by the way his thoughts are turning. "She may need a break from anything that smells like a sinister road through Shadow for a while."

"Tell me a story? Or is it private? I don't know if you've been filled in on everyone's assigned tasks yet, but for the moment, I'm on the Army Repatriation committee. Which is turning into the Create a Defensive Army task force-- not technically a continuing duty, but no one else seems interested. Marius is with Caine and Conner, organizing the navy. So much for Adepts. Aisling is on the festival committee, which should leave her free, unless Random sticks her with something or the world ends. Lilly is Swordslady in Waiting to Vialle. No idea if that's a permanent position or not.

"The rest of the family? I don't know. But a lot of them have their going concerns, too."

"Robin's story...is hers to tell or not," her brother sighs, "but this is well enough known: She was sent to scout along the Black Road. The experience treated her pretty badly. I doubt seriously that the best of us would want to dive into that or anything like it a second time." He leaves it at that, and for a moment silently encourages Brennan to follow the example.

Brennan shrugs. He isn't picking after Jovian for further explanation of Robin's tale, but he does note. "Robin's not the only one who went down the Road. But I had a Real Good Idea what it was and a little idea what to expect. I wouldn't relish going into that blind. I won't pester her, but she can come and talk if she thinks it'll do any good."

"I haven't talked with her a whole lot about it either," Jovian admits. "But anyone who knows her can tell she's...not quite right. Maybe some help understanding what happened would be what she needs. I appreciate the offer," he adds, with more than just politeness.

He nods. It's up to Jovian. And Robin, of course. Brennan probably isn't cut out to be the understanding older cousin, but he'll give it a try.

"My first task after coronation, though, is one-man repatriation committee for the King's First and Last Air Corps. The dragons' present encampment is strictly temporary and won't do for long. And if the time differential has held, which I can't warrant, the riders' families haven't seen them for two and a half years."

[Brennan] nods.

[Brennan]
"Maybe Marius will want a chance to get out of the City for a while. But I worry a little about that man."

Again, he is silent for a deep moment. He does not meet the older man's eyes.

"How well do you remember your mother, Brennan?"

"There's no good answer to that, Jovian. I have some very strong memories of her, but I left before I needed a shave every day, and it's been centuries. How much do you remember from when you were three years old? How much do you trust your perceptions of what you do remember?

"Why?"

"My mother's still alive. Was when I left for Chaos, I should say," Jovian amends, contemplatively. "She was 75 years old when I left; Kirilith over sixty. That's old, for a dragon who's fought most of her life. Lately I've had a creeping dread that she won't be there when I return."

"Oh."

[Brennan]'s silent for a moment, probably reaching his conclusion more by mental force than emotional, since happy family life and filial affection are just alien to him.

"What do you need?"

"It's not like that, Brennan," the younger man chuckles wanly. "I'm not telling you this because I want something from you, OK? Except maybe if I tell somebody about it, the dreams will let up. I just...." He pauses, rubbing at his face again, regarding the fire.

See, this is why understanding older cousin isn't, perhaps, the best role for Brennan....

Noted and logged for future harrassment.

[Brennan]
"I just need to see home again, for a little while. If only for the perfectly selfish reason of making sure Mom knows we made it back. I don't want her to die not knowing whether I lived - that would be unbearable."

[Brennan] nods, not knowing quite what else to say. If Jovian needs someone to run interference with the Crown, or even with Julian, Brennan will do it.

Then, after a moment, his eyes come back into focus from that thousand yard stare, and he asks, "Dreams? Did these dreams perchance start after the battle?"

"You could say," Jovian admits. "Eight or nine days after, when we started getting recognizably close to home."

Brennan thinks about that for a while. He hasn't got his cousin's facility for absolute time-keeping, especially that far out beyond the Tree, but, "That may be important. I had foreboding dreams that might have happened at the same time, given shadowflow. Lilly and Aisling did as well, and I haven't had a chance to ask Marius yet."

Jovian makes a surprised yet thoughtful sort of grunt. "My dreams were pretty specific to myself, and just in the past few days. Where were you all when you had yours?"

"D'oh," he mutters to himself, "Marius was still in a coma at that point. Not your brother, though."

Then, to the topic at hand, "Hmm. Doesn't sound related. I was far on the other side of the Tree, just before Bleys and I started the scouting detail. And it was several dreams, but all in one night. Fleeting images, and I didn't get the sense they were connected with me. This was weeks ago, subjective."

"Oh, then, to use the term loosely," Jovian nods as if something has become abruptly clearer and more nauseating.

"I'm sorry. I was counting days from when the concept of 'day' became meaningful again, which was...." The more he concentrates, the less sanguine he looks. "You know, I really hated it down there. It was like suddenly being blind in one eye, you know? You spend all your life used to having depth perception, then suddenly you're without it. All my life I've had perfect time sense. Never late for anything in my life, unless I meant to be. But time doesn't behave in Chaos. I couldn't feel it. You probably didn't notice it, but it threw me off."

"I did, but not as acutely with respect to time as you did. Everything breaks down and takes on a will in that region-- time, space, aspect, everything. It is very unnerving and very hostile."

He pauses.

"Literally, sometimes," he continues after he realizes what he said.

[Jovian] gets that studying-equations look again. "Yes, I did have some disturbing dreams. Restless, unbalanced, with a sense of urgency. An odd mix of snippets and images. It happened...hm. After we abandoned the sailing valley. Before time started happening again. It could have been roughly concurrent. I didn't really sleep a lot between the sailing valley and about six hours' careful shifting away from Ygg, but I got a few...a few arbitrary units of non-time here and there."

"Fascinating. And disturbing. The time sounds about right. That makes four of us, so far. And you weren't anywhere nearby. When I try to get that Trump from Bleys, I need to ask him about this."

There's a chance for Jovian to object there, if he will. Brennan thinks it's perfectly sensible, though.

Jovian looks a little uneasy, but doesn't voice an objection.

"Have you put together what the actual images were in each case? To see if there are common elements that would suggest a link of some sort."

"Not yet. Lilly only mentioned it to me yesterday, and I haven't had a chance to track down Aisling and speak to her in person. Mine were..." he stops to think.

[I guess we'll have to retcon that, since Tara just pointed out where I missed a message. Let's assume he shared Lilly's and Aisling's.]

"A woman falling down a staircase. I don't know if she lived or died. A building burning down, with a printing press inside it. A small boat in a clear bay. A women-- another woman, I think-- lifting a dead body from a bloody table."

He lets Jovian absorb those for a moment. "You know, when you say it out loud, it almost seems trivial. They're bizarre and violent, but not threatening. I can't identify the places, or the people, any more than I've described and I don't think it's anything I've seen then or since. They didn't even recur. But earlier in the journey, the men were complaining of nightmares and nightterrors. Now this."

He chuckles. "It's a good thing I'm already paranoid-- I wouldn't know how to react if I weren't already.

"Mine didn't recur either," the dragonrider nods agreement, "and it was like they were part of a world apart from me. A world where much was not right...." He concentrates for a moment, searching his conscious mind for the footprints of his unconscious.

"Two groups fighting on a beach near a shipwreck," he recalls slowly. "A woman falling past a cliff full of caves, a couple making love on the roof of a building. A field containing the carcasses of slaughtered herdbeasts." His head comes up a little quickly. "I had these dreams deep in Chaos' influence - and had more than enough reason to have nightmares about Chaos. But all those images, every one, had Amber's sky." By now his green eyes are seeking Brennan's and locking in, with matching intensity. The wheels behind them are clearly racing. "What about yours? You've traveled Shadow far more - can you locate your images?"

"You know, I really didn't think to try. Not many of mine were outside to judge the sky, either." He stops and thinks about each one, trying to locate them, as Jovian suggests, waiting for GM input.

[The bay was heartbreakingly beautify and still and circular. The sea and sky and sun were Amber's.]

"Although now that I think about it, Nestor-- the Royal Librarian-- mentioned something the other day about one of the City's chief printers being in prison for the arson of a professional rival. I had all but forgotten the dreams at that point, until Lilly brought them up."

"One solid correspondence is a lead, not a theory," Jovian considers. "Still, it's worth exploring. I wonder what other events of the past five years here correlate with our dreams out there...." He worries at this for a bit, like a terrier worrying at a fresh soup bone.

"I'd like to know why. I'm not sure if realizing they may be inspired from here makes it better or worse. I think the one about the ship in the bay was in Amber, now that you mention it. I'm not as sure about the inside ones."

"And I wish I knew more about what a 'shadow-storm' really is."

Brennan looks enquiringly at that.

"It could be part of 'why,' couldn't it? Whatever a shadow-storm actually is, one of the things it does when it's not wiping places out completely is drop stuff in shadows where it doesn't belong, right? And the black rain we witnessed in Chaos was the grand-daddy of all shadow-storms, or looked like it to me at least." He pauses to let Brennan either confirm or correct this perception, should he choose.

[There will be a pause as the GMs and I make sure that my player understanding is not completely different than the character's understanding. But...]

Well, [Brennan] doesn't diagree with it, anyway.

[Jovian]
"So we pick up these dreams, that could be psychic impressions of actual events. An after-effect maybe, like ripples in water? Turbulence of Shadow resettling after whatever caused the basement floor to crack?"

[Brennan]
"Why just us? Why not the older generation? Granted, they might have had them, too, but...."

"I don't know. But the more I think about it, the more plausible it seems that we were seeing not dreams, but something real - for a range of values of 'real.'"

Brennan shrugs. "They were things I saw when I was asleep. 'Dreams' is about the best word I can come up with to describe them. Unless you were awake when you had yours, I'm sticking with dreams. The significance, on the other hand..." he grimaces. "Well, that's still in doubt. They could be things that had already happened at that point, for whatever bizarre interpretation of 'already happened' you can make at that distance during those events. They could be prophecies of the most annoying kind-- things that hadn't happened then, but have all happened since. That would be my luck. Or they could be prophecies, only some of which have happened."

"Echoes of real events, that's what I meant. It's tempting to compare notes with our cousins who've been here all along, to see what other matters we've seen have come to pass - like your arson at the printer's shop."

"Yeah. I'm going to feel silly posting my dreams up on a post outside my door though, with a circular saying, 'If you've experienced the contents of these dreams, enquire within.'"

Jovian snorts a brief, sardonic laugh. "We could play cat and mouse with it. 'Oh, Folly, by the way, whatever happened to that girl who fell off the cliff, what was her name...?' Or," he continues only a little more seriously, "we could decide whether there's anyone here safe to take into our confidence. Robin thinks the world of Solange, for instance."

[Brennan] muses, "Maybe I should ask-- nah, then again, maybe not. As for Shadow storms, I'm not convinced I've ever seen one. I'm convinced I've never seen anything like that. I've seen things slip from Shadow to Shadow, before, but they're not storm-dependent. That, I think, was something else entirely. I may ask if the opportunity presents itself, but I'd bet something not easily conjured that it was rare enough that Fiona and Bleys have never seen one, either. Approaching unique, is my hunch, generated by unique circumstances."

"I admit I've never seen one," Jovian shrugs. "I'd heard the term, and it seemed to fit. The point is, would a disturbance of that magnitude, whatever you'd call it, leave...hrm...ripples in shadow if you will? Residue of shadow or psyche carried in its path?"

"I couldn't begin to guess at something for which there is no known precedent. Well, not true. I could guess, but it would be just that, a guess. Conjure me one when I'm ready to observe, not run away from it, and I'll let you know."

"When I can conjure one, I won't need you to observe," Jovian answers drily. "But don't worry. I'm sworn to use my powers only for the benefit of dra- ahem, mankind." His deadpan is far too good to allow a "ha ha, only serious" to take hold.

[Jovian] studies equations on the baseboards again. "I wish we had Daeon's input on this. He hasn't taken the Pattern, that might matter...oh," he looks up, a little disappointed in himself. "Aisling hasn't either."

"Nor Lilly. On that score, it's you, me, and Marius makes three."

"We're a little light on adepts," Jovian observes drily. "Anyone studied magic in our lot?"

[Brennan] snorts. "Aisling asked the same thing."

"Great minds, small circles." [Jovian] allows himself a distracting thought, but only for the briefest moment.

[Brennan]
"Not unlike hamster wheels."

The dragonrider makes a sort of scrunched up face at the redhead. 'Killjoy,' he does not actually say, but Brennan probably hears it anyway.

"That doesn't sound like it's related to your other dreams, though."

"No," Jovian admits. "I'd say not. Just the past few nights, I've been dreaming about home, that's all. Not uncommon. But they run to nightmares - also not uncommon."

"I guess not." There's no way to say it without sounding vapid, but: "Hopefully things won't have turned out for the worst. She was also a leader?"

"No, not at all. Kirilith's a green, they're the smallest. Leadership falls inevitably to the gold and bronze riders. Riding a green means something passing for relief from responsibility." This last gets a rueful chuckle for punctuation.

Brennan seems surprised. "Is that a relative statement? Or does everyone ride a Dragon where you come from?"

"It's relative," Jovian admits with a sort of shrug. "There's one dragonrider to probably a hundred or so landbound. But greens don't end up in leadership positions because they can usually fly only half a Fall and...it'd take some explaining," he gestures, vaguely dismissive. "They have the responsibility to go up and fight like the rest of us, but they miss out on the estimable joys of command." Such as the worry lines that form at his brow and around the wan little smile that frames his observation.

Okay, Brennan can accept that. "You'll have to tell me about it some time." That is not, despite appearances, a casual dismissal.

"Maybe you'll get a chance to see the place. Random permitting, I mean to open formal relations between Calusa and Amber."

"I'd like that. Don't know when, but I'd like that."

"So, do we want to call Lilly, Aisling, and Marius together on this and figure out a collective course on your brother and those flowers?"

"I think we do. But it's late, and the next two days are going to be insane. Put it on the list for Freeday?"

"Hmm. After coronation? I thought the plan was to be gone as soon as possible afterward-- not only you, but whoever gets the job of investigating."

"'As soon as possible' is relative to circumstances, of course. And we're not all going to have a lot of time over the next two days."

"Yeah. Spoiling my peculiar idea of fun, though-- I had hoped to have one or two of us gone by the time Random got around to giving out new assignments. Random's not grey enough to be a King.

"Alas. Well, I guess we can talk to Marius after the poker game, and I can try to catch the Dames afterward." He stops to consider. "Damsels? Damses?"

"Damage," Jovian tries, pronouncing it Dame-age. He shrugs. "It's a new one on me, but so is a lot of this nobility stuff."

Brennan shrugs. "For me, the new part is thinking I have a place I might stay for an extended period of time."

Jovian nods as if he'd guessed as much. "It can be gotten used to," he observes. "Now...I'm not sure, exactly, but I think I have two. For a while at least."

"Most of the time, I'm worrying that I'm putting my guard down too fast. Occasionally, not fast enough."

"Even my Dad takes off his armor occasionally," Jovian reassures the redhead, flouting the popular opinion of the Amber List. "Eventually you'll get used to knowing when you can, too."

"It's a long habit to break."

"No doubt. I'll have some adjustments to make as well, along the way."