If Folly hadn't already shown up so late to the party, she might've considered returning her lute to her room herself; if the poor thing hadn't already been jostled about by a careless mover, she might've sent it back with a page. As it is, though, she rejects both these ideas as soon as they cross her mind and heads instead for her favorite library nook (or second-favorite, anyway, after the one with the piano in it).
Folly sets her glass of wine on the small reading table and is just about to situate the lute securely on the accompanying large comfy overstuffed chair when she hesitates; some part of her won't let her abandon the instrument without at least putting it to some use.
Her back to the room, Folly brings the lute up as if to play it; but she does not strum. Instead, she merely fingers a ghost-melody, the fingers of her chording hand striking the strings just hard enough to produce barely-audible tones. She can hear the tune in her head, though, as clearly as if she were playing it, and it makes her feel better.
When the song is done, she sets the lute gently on the chair, and, remembering this is supposed to be a cocktail party, collects her drink and turns to rejoin the festivities....
Where she finds Merlin's father, who has finished his conversation with Caine, and come to listen to her play. "May I?" he asks, obviously wanting to examine the lute.
It takes Folly only the barest moment to decide he can be trusted to handle her instrument properly. She smiles as she takes the lute up again and offers it to him, wordlessly, in her outstretched hands.
Then she seats herself on the table, offering the chair to Corwin with a gesture. From the look on her face, she's obviously hoping he'll play a little something.
Corwin takes the lute and tunes it a little to get it just to his liking. He does not seat himself, but stands with the lute, picking out something that sounds similar to, but not quite like, "The Ballad of the Water-Crossers". At least not quite like any version Folly has ever heard.
Folly closes her eyes to listen, smiling with delight at every nuance that surprises her, then opens them again to watch Corwin's hands.
For Corwin, this experience may feel like a cross between an intimate performance for a rapt audience and an audition before a particularly perspicacious judge.
When he concludes the tune, Folly smiles warmly. "Beautiful," she says. "Thank you. It would hardly be a party without music."
"I'm not sure this is a party," says Corwin. "More like a social military briefing. Sort of like the difference between music and military music."
"Indeed," Folly says, slightly wrinkling her nose in a way that makes her own preference obvious. "It's got a good beat, but no one wants to dance." Her eyes sweep the room, and she wonders how many of her cousins are actually enjoying themselves.
"As for the briefing part --" She turns her gaze back to Corwin and extends her hand. "Hi, I'm Folly."
If there is any deference in Folly's manner, it is not that of a young woman toward an older man, nor that of a niece for her elder; rather, it is the respect of a songwriter for an especially skilled peer.
Llewella now looks very concerned. "You've made a powerful enemy, Conner."
"That much I gathered, my Aunt." Conner replies taking a sip of his brandy. "And finding out my enemy's identity is high on my to do list. It is quite clear I stumbled into something much larger than myself. I only wish I knew what."
It's at this point that Martin arrives. Llewella stands up to greet him with an affectionate hug. "Martin," she says, "you haven't changed a bit."
Martin returns the hug with equal affection. "Oh, I don't know about that, Aunt Llew. I think my hair is longer these days. And I finally figured out how to shave above the waterline."
Releasing Llewella, Martin offers a clasp to Conner. "Conner. I presume you've been enlightening Llewella about the state of things in Rebma?"
Conner clasps his hand firmly. "The cocktail hour version, anyway. How fares things with you?"
"Better now that I'm not hellriding." Martin grins again. "Llew, did he tell you there's a back way out of the city? I remember using it with Ben when I was a little boy, but I'd forgotten it until Conner told me he'd used the same escape route. I haven't had a chance to ask Ben about it yet, though."
Llewella replies, "We'll have to do that tonight. Conner hadn't gotten to the part of the story featuring the stairway yet."
"My mad flight from Rebma was indeed the next part of the tale." Conner smiles. "And a talk with Benedict I hope will prove enlightening."
Llewella says, "Perhaps you should ask him over, now that he's no longer talking to the redhead. Who is she, Martin?"
Martin says, "Paige. Bleys' daughter," and lets it go at that.
"A cousin with more than her share of stories about her, but that seems to be her nature." Conner smiles. "She is her father's daughter after all. I shall issue Benedict an invitation to join us." Conner nods breaking away and approaching Benedict.
As Conner departs, Martin leans a little closer to Llewella, and speaks to her in a low voice; his words are clearly for Llewella's ears alone.
"Good evening." Conner greets him. "I'm Conner, Fiona's son. Martin, Llewella and I were hoping you would join us."
"I would be pleased to join you," says Benedict.
"Excellent." Conner smiles walking back with him. "During my time in Rebma I stumbled across a childhood memory of Martin's that we wanted to talk to you about."
"Really?" says Benedict, glancing toward Folly and Corwin as he walks. "I detest mysteries, of course, but I may be able to help you. I knew Martin when he was a child."
"When I left Rebma a year ago, I did so through an air filled cavern that rose up to some cliffs in a nearby shadow. Martin says he remembers you leading him from Rebma through such a cavern when he was young. What can you tell me about it?" Conner asks.
"Where did it take you?"
"It emerged on some sea cliffs. Climbing down I found a small village that recognized Thari as the language of unwanted people. On an island there was a castle protected by forces I could not shift away. Winds and waves kept arising to block my progress." Conner replies.
"I have been there, but not in some time. Who in Rebma knew of this back door?"
"The one who led me to it was Demond Harga'rel." Conner replies. "But the entrance was guarded by a Triton so someone else knows its significance I wager. The shadow it emerges into seemed affected by the war somehow. They spoke of Thari speaking warriors fighting the forces from that castle and the battle was done both left and they were glad to rid of them both."
Lucas arrives dressed in a light and casual outfit of greens and yellows, obviously his sole tribute to spring. On his arm is his mother, Florimel. As the two disengage to seek conversation partners, Lucas spends a moment reviewing the assembly of familiar and unfamiliar faces, and seems to mentally discard most. His curiousity seems piqued by Fiona in the corner, and so he heads over in that direction.
Flora is also wearing a pale green that sets off her golden hair and coordinates nicely with Lucas. She, like Lucas, is dressed in the more traditional style. She also surveys the room, but is not as quick to head off to join another gathering as Lucas was. Perhaps she is waiting for someone to come to her.
Before Vere can get that drink back to his father, Caine (who has broken away from his conversation with Corwin) arrives. "I'm Caine," he says. "I understand that you're Gerard's son Vere, and that you're the man who best knows the state of the fleet."
Vere bows slightly and replies, "I will be happy to bring you up to date on the current status of the fleet, Prince Caine. I just need to take this," he gestures with the whiskey glass, "to my Father. Would you accompany me, or shall I rejoin you here?"
Vere is already beginning to move towards Gerard as he finished speaking.
Caine falls into step. "I'll join you."
Vere silently returns to Gerard and hands him the glass with a small nod and a quiet, "Father." He steps slightly to one side and turns, his back once more to the wall, and waits for Gerard and Caine to finish greeting each other before he says anything more.
They do so.
If they fall into conversation Vere will wait quietly until he is addressed by one of them.
On the other hand, if they do nothing more than exchange brief greetings, Vere will say, "Prince Caine has asked me to give him a report on the current condition of the fleet, Father." Turning his attention to Caine Vere says, "I have turned over complete reports on the Fleet and Harbour to His Majesty, detailing my opinions on the exact status of each of the ships and crews, Naval, mercantile and fishing, currently available in Amber, as well as certain concerns regarding the fleet from the Land of Peace. I will be happy to give you a more general description of the current situation verbally, however, to whatever degree of detail you would prefer."
"The gossip I'll get at my club. Brief me on anything I need to know before I get there. Assume they can tell me details and that I want to know a bit more than will be expected when I arrive." He grins. "What won't people want me to be asking about?"
Gerard snorts, then nods at Vere.
Vere nods, and is silent for a few seconds rearranging what he was going to say. After that brief pause he says, "The most serious problem currently is the lack of manpower. There is an overdependence upon retired sailors and officers. As well, there is an entire new generation of children who were pulled into naval service at an early age while we waited for the Return. They are good men, but inexperienced. There is the potential for difficulties in integrating the old and new forces, although firm leadership and fair treatment should be able to overcome that. Our enforced isolation from Shadow, and the small numbers of trading voyages we have been able to send out, have meant that we have been able to direct a great deal of attention to repairs and maintenance. I believe that you will find the state of the ships themselves to be acceptable.
"In my opinion the fleet from the Land of Peace represents a serious threat in the interim period before we have the crews of Amber's fleet back. They currently outnumber our men in the harbour, and if they become overanxious they could cause serious trouble. Marquess Maritime and I have prepared certain defensive strategies if problems occur, but it would be best if such problems could be avoided. Keeping them calm and unworried until they are no longer a danger would be best." Vere glances at Gerard, then back at Caine. "I assume you have been informed that they provided the ships used by Bleys in his attack on Amber, and that this could cause problems when our sailors recognize that fact?"
Vere strokes his beard before continuing, "There is one lost ship that still concerns me, a small reconnaissance vessel I detailed to follow the Paresh when they were allowed to leave Amber due to their religious beliefs. The captain was instructed to follow them without letting them know they were being followed, and report back on where they went. He never returned. Their final fate should be determined if possible, I mislike losing men for no purpose, and if vengeance is required it should be taken.
"Also," and Vere includes his father in this next statement, "Worth has been of inestimable value to Amber during this trying period, and he should be rewarded. I had thought to suggest to his Majesty that a peerage might be in order, but such a suggestion would be more appropriate coming from the two of you. If you agree, of course. Father, you have seen the contributions he has made, and Prince Caine, you will read his name many times in the reports I have prepared."
The sound of voices coming from the library was a relief to Lilly as she made her way back to cocktails. Having been unsure of how much time had passed, she was relieved to find that the group had not moved to the dining room. That would have been embarrassing not just to her but to her father as well.
With silent grace, she re-entered the library. Peering about, everyone seemed engaged in conversation. Everyone except for Aunt Florimel. That seemed a bit odd. For whatever reason she had assumed her Aunt would be in the center of activity, not watching from the outskirts. With little thought, Lilly decided to greet her.
Moving alongside her Lilly smiled politely, "Aunt Florimel, it is good to see you again."
"Lilly, dear, don't you look lovely? How are you?" Flora replies.
"Fine, thank you. You, of course, look beautiful." And Lilly wasn't just paying lip service. She meant it.
"Have you any thoughts on how this evening will proceed?"
Flora smiles. "Vialle is a woman of taste, so I would expect a full service for -- how many are we, almost 30? -- in one of the small banquet halls in the castle. However, with my brother in charge we may all be eating hot wings from Hooters." She lowers her voice. "If Random offers you clothing, see if you can gracefully reject it."
Before Lilly's mind could even begin to puzzle out what a hot wing from Hooters might be, Flora threw her completely off. Why would the King offer her clothing? There was absolutely no logic there. With slight confusion evident on her face, the girl opened her mouth to ask then thought better of it. Take the advice graciously.... for now, she reminded herself.
Flora continues, in a normal voice, "There are so many things that need to be settled. The coronation; when and how to return the army to the city; what do about the shadow auxiliaries; trade concerns; and other ... family matters. I suspect that's our most obvious business this evening."
Lilly nodded. There was a very large part of her that was relieved that tonight was not going to be entirely a social affair. "Paige, the daughter of Bleys had spoken of some interesting phenomena within the city. Indeed I suspect we will here more on that subject."
"It might be impolite to ask, but anyway. Who is then your mistress in matters of Trump, Merlin?" Ossian follows Merlin's eye-movements closely.
He looks up towards the redheaded woman who is moving to join them. "Our cousin Paige taught me what I know of Trump."
"Ah. Paige. Of course." Ossian visibly processes this new information.
Paige takes Merlin in her arms, arguably the warmest greeting she's offered this evening and kisses the young Chaosian on the cheek. "I told you I'd see you, no?" she whispers.
Drawing back she kisses Ossian on the cheek under the same auspices as he was kissing heands earlier, if he's OK with it.. and if he's not she'd prolly catch it and just offer her hand. "What he isn't telling you Ossian is that he hasn't taught me all of what he knows of Trump," she smiles.
Ossian does not mind at all and Paige knows it. He laughs, turning towards Merlin: "You certainly seem to have something to teach us about perspective."
"But more importantly for the gossip of a cocktail party, did I hear whispers that you have a mistress, Merlin? Perhaps you've been spending too much time with your father of late..."
Ossian already starts to feel like the fifth wheel, but stays out of curiosity.
Ossian's sensitive enough to know that Paige doesn't regard him as such. She seems to believe that Ossian is exactly the right cousin to start easing Merlin into the family with...
Merlin looks a little oddly at Paige. Then, he visibly processes the innuendo, parsing it from the language rather than natively getting the joke. Ossian and Paige both read his response as a sort of fond exasperation combined with a distaste for the idea behind the humor.
What he says, patiently, is, "No, Cousin Paige, Cousin Ossian and I were speaking of Trump."
Sometimes there are advantages to being the idiot foreign cousin, Ossian thinks.
"A girl can always hope, Merlin," she smiles at him. She's not making fun of him, but really trying gently to help him adjust. It was one thing when he was with friends and missed phrases or gestures, now the audience was Family and missing somethings here could be worse than embarressing.
"Did your father explain the idea of our little cocktail party? It's an informal gathering... You can just call me Paige. In Amber society peers normally eschew titles, that goes double for men who've crashed on the couch of my apartments."
"Informal manners were part of my training, yes, Paige, thank you." Merlin says. He sounds mildly exasperated, as if to say, _I'm overwhelmed, not stupid._
It occurs to Ossian that Merlin is probably younger than he is, too.
"So, Ossian, what do you think?" Paige asks, obviously speaking of Merlin's Artistry. "I could never get that feel, it's like he looks at the world with different eyes, ones I can't see through." Her tone is one of reverence for Merlin's ability.
"You have that sight in some pieces, like that Castle painting of yours, Ossian. There's days when I'm riding on Kolvir that I can see your spires rising from the walls..."
It's at this point that Solange walks up. "Paige! You look wonderful! I wouldn't have dared," she says. "Forgive me for interrupting," she then says to her male cousins. "I didn't mean to disturb you."
"It is quite all right," says Merlin. "Please, join us."
"This?" Paige asks with a smile. "Just something I had lying around in a wardrobe at the Prince," she jokes. "Not actually what I was planning to wear at all, of course seeing how lovely you look, I'm rather pleased. Your dress would've made mine look like rags by comparison."
"Merlin, you've met Solange, yes?" Paige asks rhetorically.
"Yes, a few minutes ago," says Merlin. He smiles again at Solange, apparently finding her less intimidating than some of the others.
"We hardly got a chance to say two words to each other, though, what with your father and mine talking over our heads," Solange agrees.
"My return from Heather Vale conspired to keep me at the Prince, so I made do with what I had available," she elaborates. "It's a blessing I did, since it seems my rooms have been moved and I'm sure that I'd have been even later than I was if I had to deal with that."
"As it stands, I don't know where I'm staying the night yet," she smirks quietly.
Her attention's taken a moment as Lilly re-enters the room, a shadow of a thought flitting across the back of Paige's hazel eyes.
"Oh, I'm sure you'll find a comfortable place," Solange says, perhaps a shade too innocently. Her smile is friendly-conspiratorial rather than catty, though.
"It seems your rooms have been moved?" Ossian seems slightly shocked "And you weren't told?"
"Pardon me cousin? Oh, my rooms... yes." Paige gives a slight shrug, the green wrap sliding a fraction from her shoulders and exposing smooth white skin. "It seems Her Majesty's been busy preparing for the sudden influx of family and to accommodate everyone, what with the Family Wing still not fully itself, several of us were moved."
"Martin mentioned that the Queen had moved some of our family." Merlin frowns. "I know our cousin Folly's room was moved. And I must tell her later that I have learned about 'marking'."
"Oh, no!" Solange says. "I hope Fathom didn't ruin anything irreplaceable."
"Merlin? You got Fathom's room? Well, at least I know where to find you," she smiles softly at the others.
"Merle? I've never had the chance to meet Aunt Flora formally... do you think I could impose on you to do introductions?" she asks, slipping her arm through his and leading him toward Lilly and Flora. "You'll excuse us, Ossian, Solange?"
"Of course." Ossian smiles "We shall have to have a _long_ talk about Trumps later, I think, Merlin. I think we should invite Paige too, of course."
After Paige and Merlin has left Ossian turns to Solange. "So. We shall have to impose our presence on someone else. Any suggestions?" He grins, offering Solange his arm.
Brennan looks up with amusement to see... how many people converging on the bunch of Mostly Redheads?
Aisling smiles at him, and comes up next to him, leaning over to look at the scrap of paper Reid holds the attention of Bleys and Fiona with. "The Pattern as it currently lies?" she asks, mainly of Reid, but mostly of anyone. It's also anyone's game to make introductions.
"So Reid tells us. If I may, Dame Aisling, these are our cousins Brita, Fiona's daughter; and Reid, Osric's son. Bleys and Fiona, of course, you already know."
(I don't think I left anyone out. I'm neglecting Lucas as not having arrive, yet.)
"Brita I met earlier as well," Aisling says with a smile and a nod to her. Then she bows to Reid, "I am fascinated to meet you, Reid. I hadn't the faintest inkling that Osric had had a son."
Reid returns the bow. "Yes. Well. Um."
Brita gives a slight surprised laugh at this exchange.
Aisling smiles, too.
"Master Reid is solid proof of Prince Osric's parenthood."
Brita notices the look of disapproval on Reid's face. The same look that in their days of study meant "let's get back on topic, shall we?"
"It is good to see you again Dame Aisling." Brita turns the conversation back to the Pattern. "Those cousins in Amber at the time mentioned that there was an earthquake - the Sundering - at the time of the black rain. Perhaps that created the crack." Brita pauses in thought. "...or perhaps the crack caused the earthquake?"
Aisling opens her mouth to ask a question, and then realizes that somehow she's managed to join a group entirely without eyewitnesses to the Sundering. She sips at her drink instead, and bides her time until Lucas makes his entrance.
Reid, too, is somewhat silenced by the last few moments of conversation. He looks across the room at Benedict with a combination of longing and sorrow, before focusing his attention on the glass in his hand, brow furrowed.
Brennan shoots him a quiet, but inquiring glance, which if it spoke aloud might say, 'Faux pas?'
Bleys' finger traces the pattern-fragment on the paper. "And Fiaella-Bionnen isn't there, and Tir Na nOgth doesn't appear. Curiouser and curiouser. It looks like it crosses the First Veil. Has anyone probed its depth? I seem to recall that Dad didn't think the Pattern was the only danger buried in the caves under this stony shrine to personal immortality."
[Brennan] turns to Bleys taking a long pull from his mug of coffee, then holds the mug by the top and says, "Fiaella-Bionnen is gone. Tir-na Nog'th is gone. The trade routes are gone. I can do this--" he shifts his grip to the coffee mug handle, revealing a full mug, "--with apalling ease.
"Now, apply Brennan's Second Rule and give me the simplest possible hypothesis-- what moved?"
Brita says "I think Master Reid and I saw Tir Na nOgth in the primal place we came to before here, just not the steps. When the moon rose on the steps, there was a shimmering, far above the horizon on the edge of a distant cloud. That should have been the dream city, right?" Brita turns to Master Reid to elaborate further.
"I don't know that 'primal place' is an accurate description, at least not in current company. You see, Brita, I've heard talk of a 'primal pattern' and the place we were, though very much like the lands of Amber, had no pattern at all." Reid turns to the others by way of explanation, "We did find a curious shadow, rapt with "possibility", but no mountain; no castle; no pattern. The caves were empty. There were the first 3 steps, and the shimmering in the sky, but nothing connecting the two. A return visit to that place with Cambina and Paige produced the same, I'm afraid."
Brennan was listening closely when Brita began to speak of a 'primal' place, but at Reid's further comments, he folds his arms, as much as is possible when holding a newly freshened mug of coffee, and looks at Bleys as though what Reid just said can be made to fit Brennan's line of thought.
Then, a moment later, an even better line of thought visibly clouds his eyes. When it passes, he's still looking at Bleys, trying to figure out if he's catching up to Bleys, or Bleys is catching up to him.
Aisling, hiding her amusement at the Brita/Reid interactions, asks Reid, "'Primal Pattern'? Sounds like it should be off beating a drum in the woods. What is this story?"
Lucas gives a slight snort of amusement.
Aisling smirks in acknowledgement, with a slight tilt of her head to Lucas, though the most of her attention remains on Reid and then Bleys...
"Not mine to tell, I'm afraid." He looks at Bleys.
"Or ask him..." Reid suggests.
The door to the library opens and you see a small crowd at the door. Random and Vialle are there, flanked by functionaries, including Vent and Venesch. The hallway is much busier than normal.
Vialle is on Random's arm and he leads her into the room. The King is wearing a poet shirt and tightly fitting pants. Beneath the shirt is a shirt with the logo Pro-Mark on it. His hair is slicked back and he is not wearing the Jewel.
Vialle is dressed nicely in a flowing white gown that trails slightly behind her. She has on perhaps too much makeup, (in the 'I need to cover something up' way, not the 'I'm a teenage ho' way..) and her smile seems a bit forced.
The door closes and Random says "OK, show's over. Family rules are in effect. That means, mein kinder, 'no bowing.'"
Too late; his words catch Aisling in mid-bow, but she gracefully returns to upright, and shrugs a bit with a smile, not looking discomfited.
When Random and Vialle enter, Brennan pauses in his conversation with Bleys to look them over. It's a sharper look than he's been wearing for most of the evening, except when he was sizing up this Ossian character. The first glance takes in Random, the second takes in Vialle and the make-up, the third takes in the reactions, as much as possible, of everyone else in the room.
Brennan only raised an eyebrow at the statement. His arms are still half-folded across his chest, coffee mug in his right hand; a bow under those circumstances would have been a bit silly.