"You wouldn't just happen to have one or two tidbits to share, would you Auntie?" Jerod asks, with just the touch of devilish in his smile.
Flora smiles, an equal touch of devil in her own expression. "For you, Jerod, always. Especially when you have such a wealth of divertissements yourself."
She leans in and says, quietly, "Father's funeral was quite the grand affair. Not only did old Dworkin show up, but Clarissa herself attended, flaunting her widow's weeds, as if she had been happily married to him when he died."
"Dworkin is still around?" Jerod asks, looking both surprised and pleased. "So Grandfather didn't get rid of him then. I do hope he shows up here sometime soon - I never got the chance to meet him. And what was Clarissa doing down there?"
"What she's always up to: making trouble," says Flora with a wicked grin. "I suspect we'll hear from her again, since she didn't get a chance to deliver her condolences to our new monarch in person. That should be exciting."
She changes the subject, then. "I hear there has been quite a bit of excitement here since last I left."
"Oh, quite a bit." Jerod says. "Lucas went and got married...that alone was worth several months of Court discussion. The redheads appeared to have been breeding behind our backs and they were popping out of the woodwork - that was interesting to investigate. Plus the assorted interesting little tidbits...you know the kinds. Minor scandals, plays for power, trying to usurp the Regent, all that sort of thing. Actually had to smack down some of the merchants for getting too uppity. Master Carver and Lord Laurel were found to have been involved in some questionable dealings. Jewel also had some dealings that were questionable...enough that Uncle Gerard had him kept under surveillance for awhile. It's very interesting the people they deal with."
"Where there are redheads, there is trouble," says Flora, quoting an Amber maxim that is older than either she or Jerod is. "Who were they dealing with that kept dear Gerard's interest?"
"I understand Lord Jewell had his fingers in it." Jerod says. "I never got the chance to interrogate him though. Dealing with Carver got unpleasant for a few moments. It was quite the unsatisfactory affair. And after a short time I had to leave it to others in order to undertake some trade in Shadow. Things were still in flux and we got lost for a time. Only made it back a short time before Random's return."
"Speaking of his majesty...how did that all come about?" Jerod asks. "I've only heard bits and pieces of it. And nothing about Brand's demise."
"Brand was holding Deirdre at the edge of a chasm in the heart of Chaos and trying to use the Jewel against us all. Caine shot him and he fell into the chasm, dragging Deirdre with him." Flora shudders delicately.
"Then, after a while--time doesn't seem very meaningful in those parts--the Unicorn came up out of the chasm with the Jewel on her horn. She gave it to Random, and that was that."
"Even when he dies, he causes grief." Jerod says quietly. "So the Unicorn exists? And it chose Random. That must have been a hell of a surprise, at least to him."
"It was a surprise to all of us. But everyone seems to be taking it in stride for now." Flora looks around at the large number of relatives gathered. "How did your cousins take the news?"
"With suitable grace, for those that knew Random beforehand." Jerod says. "Not all of them had been acquainted with him before so there was much reserving of judgement in that quarter. His style of kingmanship is certainly not to the same standard as Grandfather's was." and Jerod smiles a little. "No doubt it will be an interesting experience as he settles in. I think Shadow exploration may be in order during his more...manic...times."
"I would think you'd rather go home to Rebma, Jerod," says Flora. "Unless that will be too hot for a prince who took service with King Random."
"Until the stairs are found or another avenue of access discovered, a return is not possible." Jerod says. "And I've been searching for a way home for five years without success. I doubt that my return would be too unwelcome though. The Queen has no love of my father's line, but since he is dead she has little reason to quarrel with me. And it helps to be related. It might be a touch uncomfortable, but I've dealt with worse."
"I would be more concerned about her interest in Martin. Now that Random is King in Amber, Martin's status has definitely changed in Rebma." He looks over at his friend for a moment before looking back at Flora. "And perhaps not for the better."
Flora looks past Jerod into the eyes of the approaching King of Amber and says, in a louder voice, "I tell you Jerod, I don't remember when I've had this amount of fun before dinner."
Random comes up next to her, undistracted by his sister. He is all smiles and edges. "Martin is my son and his grandmother will do well to remember it. My son is not to be a pawn in a petty power game between Amber and her mirror beneath the waves.
"But there is much to be done before anyone can return to Moire to tell her this. Unless I'm mistaken, the route to and from Rebma will not be available until after the coronation."
Jerod is decidedly unruffled by the King's words...or edges...:)
"Is his majesty saying that his ascension to the throne, once completed by the ceremony, will bring Faiella-Bionin back into existence?" Jerod asks, before remarking without expecting a reply. "That would be a most interesting use of a political ceremony."
"I've no doubt that the Queen would have no deliberate ill-will towards Martin. He is her grandson after all. I suspect she will probably reserve any animosity for you, if there is any to be had. You know she won't be pleased to hear that you've been chosen as King." and he takes a sip before continuing. "And the Queen, or anyone else in Rebma, need not deliberately hurt him to make his life miserable. All they need to do is open some doors for him. He is, after all, one of her potential heirs."
Flora smiles wickedly. "Yes, well, I suppose that wastrel sons with insufficient parental guidance have been known to get into ... trouble."
She spares her own son, who is speaking with the King's son, a fond glance, and turns back to the King. "Even with all the best advice in the world, a parent can still find a dear child in an unexpected situation. However, Martin seems to have inherited a level head from somewhere," and her look to Jerod suggests it's the maternal side, "so you should trust him to do all right, brother." _Or at least no worse than you did._
Random says, "Oh, I have higher standards than that."
And Flora replies, "As well you should, Your Majesty."
Random, perhaps feeling that he's had enough of Flora, nods tersely to his sister and nephew, and moves along.
Jerod nods a more polite response back to the King while adding a smile and watches as he departs. "You know, I'm still curious as to how we're going to get our return route back to Rebma." he says to Flora, turning to her after Random departs. "Why would the King say the route is not available until after his coronation? Perhaps he is more concerned about preventing someone from taking word back to Rebma if such a route already exists?"
"If I were in his shoes, I'd be worried about anyone taking the route to Rebma too soon too," Flora says, less unkindly. "Or maybe he's bluffing."
"Would you bluff, in his position?" Jerod asks Flora. "Even with everyone's return, we are far from strong. It's been a hard five years. I do not envy Random's position on the throne."
"Random, I am told, is quite the card sharp. If you're used to winning on bluffs, you may overplay your hand. Either that or he knows something we don't. I wouldn't rule out the possibility that he's gotten less ignorant, if only because there's so much ignorance to go around," says Flora.
"And I wouldn't want to be in his shoes, either," she confesses.
"Yes, I must agree." Jerod says gravely, before grinning. "Even you could not hope to accessorize an outfit with his shoes."
Flora smiles flirtatiously, and Jerod suspects she's thinking of a way to take him up on that dare.
"And I think perhaps it is time to move on and meet those remaining before the King decides its time for dinner, and important matters of state. I've got a feeling my vacation is going on hold again. We shall talk later?"
"Of course, Jerod."
Jerod nods while chuckling a bit, curious as to how she intends to reply to the dare. For his part, he'd be quite interested to see how she'd pull it off (the Court gossip on that endeavour alone would last a week).
Lucas will approach Martin and be friendly.
Martin offers a friendly clasp. "How's it going, Lucas?"
"Not bad? How's it feel to be a prince for a day?"
"Same as it felt last week, only twice as much," says Martin, grinning. "Of course, all it's gotten me so far is a round-trip ticket halfway to the other end of the universe. Did you manage to introduce your mother and your wife without too much difficulty?"
"I don't believe I've done anything with my mother without too much difficulty. I believe she may suspect a shadow has taken my place."
"I'd have considered it, were I in your shoes. I'd much rather be somewhere else while a faux me introduced Solace to your mother. Not to mention Lady Vesper."
"The Lady Vesper was thankfully not in attendance for this particular event," Lucas answers with a look of mixed gratitude and pain. "I imagine she's riding pell-mell through Amber this very minute trying to get an audience with my mother. I can just see her showing up, coated in mud, trying to fix her hair, and make small talk with my mother."
"Then she's doomed to disappointment, as this is a family-only affair." Martin glances over at the circle from which his father has just departed. "With one significant exception, which I doubt even Lady Vesper could hope to duplicate."
"'Struth. But I doubt that would keep her from lingering about the doors hoping for a peek at the esteemed Lady Florimel."
"Well, if that doesn't, Venesch will," Martin replies. "Of course, you can't keep them apart forever. You realize that you could keep yourself in funds for hazard at Red Mill for a year by selling tickets, of course."
"I don't think even I have that much cheek when it comes to my mother."
"It's a wise man who knows his limits, Lucas." Martin gives Lucas an easy smile. "Listen, I have to do the prince thing now. Maybe we can catch up later?"
"Certes."
"Great," says Martin. "I'll need to arrange another night out at Red Mill before my father gets himself crowned and puts us all to work. A chance to meet some of our new cousins ... and take their money," he says, as if money were ever really what the game was about.
"The red-haired fellow over there with Corwin and Llewella is our cousin Brennan. He's Brand's son," and for once Martin gets out the hated name without stumbling over it, "but he was on our side at the battle, of course, or he wouldn't be here. I think he's the only eligible newcomer here tonight. There are others: I met a son of Julian's who isn't here this afternoon." His face clouds for a moment. "I'm not sure he's a poker player, though."
Brennan, in idle conversation with Llewella and Corwin, hears his name being taken in vain and looks up. We'll assume that the hated name is 'Brand' not 'Brennan,' of course.
Brennan thinks Lucas might have tried to make eye contact with an amused expression on his face. Of course, it could be Brennan's imagination.
Changing the subject: "And if I wander by your suite later tonight, perhaps you'll have some advice on what I should do with Violet? I can't leave her at Red Mill under the circumstances, but I'm at a bit of a loss for the right thing to do, and I trust your judgement on such matters implicitly."
Lucas observes Brennan with vague disinterest. Finally, he says, "Of course, I'll try to make certain I'm free."
"I knew I could count on you," says Martin, and he gives his cousin a clasp before heading on his way, into another thread.
Paige then makes the long walk across the room with a smile of _You look wonderful... We'll talk later?_ for Cambina as she makes her way to the Admiralty's corner.
Paige joins the foursome as Conner is winding down his story.
Vere nods to her silently as she approaches.
Conner greets her with a brillant smile. "So there you have it, Uncle. Someone with Tritons is pissed off at me. I was told you might know something of them."
Paige nods to Vere, and smiles at Conner. "Of the Tritons, or the people you piss off, Conner? The latter might take more time than one family dinner," she chides.
Conner merely smiles wider at her.
Not giving the redhead a chance for a comeback, she leans in and kisses Gerard on the cheek, "Good evening, Uncle. You look wonderful."
"Thank you, lass," says Gerard warmly.
Straightening back up she regards Caine with a slightly devilish smile, "It's good to see more of you, Uncle Caine."
OOC: Those of you reading Conner's mind hear, "As Caine has already seen more of you, I assume he is glad to see less."
Vere watches the interplay with a mildly curious expression on his face.
Caine says, "A pleasure to make your acquaintance under more formal circumstances, Paige." Vere reads a small amount of malicious pleasure in the possibility of discomfitting Paige.
Paige seems nonplussed by her uncle's attentions, perhaps having had time to steel her resolve before meeting him this evening, or perhaps not having any guilt over their earlier meeting.
"Uncle, I assure you, it was a pleasure earlier," _Just not yours._ She smiles again, the devilish smile having not left her lips yet.
Caine doesn't seem disappointed that Paige isn't squirming.
"So, another telling of the flight from Rebma? Have you heard if the Rebman embassy made good their trip to the Faiella Bionin?" she asks Conner.
"I have it on good authority that the stairs remain impassable." Conner replies. "Which makes me wonder just where the Rebmans rushed to."
"They don't know our ways, nor why the stairway closed. If the return of the King of Amber were enough to open the way, Moire would reward them for their service," says Gerard.
Caine's eyes sweep the room, and stop on a blond figure in conversation with a dark-haired dandy. "Not to mention for word of her grandsons."
Gerard's gaze follows Caine's. "Aye."
"I still wonder if they know of a way to Rebma we don't." Conner muses. "But it could be them taking a long shot I suppose."
Vere allows a brief frown to pass across his face. "Surely they have left some staff, relatively unimportant underlings at least?" he asks. "It makes no sense to completely abandon their Embassy to Amber at the moment they think the ways have become clear. Someone should remain behind to maintain contact with, and to spy upon, us. Unless they think Amber no longer relevant to their plans, of course, and that seems unlikely in the extreme."
"Unless the Royal passengers of this Shadow Titanic are just not as observant as the Rebmans or the Paresh, eh?" Paige smiles sardonicly.
"Paige," says Gerard, but Caine overrides him. "The Rebmans have certainly left their agents in place." He names half-a-dozen names. "They're still here, which means the Rebmans have some interests remaining. Ambassador Kaia is merely looking for the best reward; she has no way of knowing what a long shot the stair is."
Vere raises an eyebrow and regards Caine with interest. He refrains from comment, however.
Vere is certain that Caine has noticed his noticing.
Conner makes note of those names. "Indeed. As someone in the Royal family of Rebma wants me damaged or dead, I'd appreciate your help in figuring out who my watchers should watch here in Amber." Conner smiles.
"Of course. The last thing we need now is more trouble with Rebma. Do you have any idea of the significance of the masks? I've never seen a masked Triton before," Caine muses.
"Well unless they have a meaning all their own, I assume the masks were to hide their tattoos on the face." Conner replies. "Of course I still don't know what those signify."
"I don't either," says Caine, "but every Triton I've ever seen has had facial tattoos. And I have seen quite a few."
"Perhaps they're like birthmarks for us landlubbers? They make shark men that I can't tell from other fish identifiable to us and maybe each other?" Paige hypothesizes.
Vere tilts his head to one side and muses, "In which case the intent of the mask would be to hide the tattoo, rather than facial features. A possibility." He frowns slightly, "As with far too many occurrences of the last several years, we lack sufficient data for any definitive theories to be advanced as of yet."
"Oh I am sure it was to hide the tattoos." Conner replies. "But just being tattooed has some significance in and of itself, I think. Just mentioning that the Tritons were tattooed caused him to become very agitated." Conner looks to Caine. "Have you seen Tritons in their natural habitat so to speak or were they always servants when you saw them?"
"All the Tritons I've seen have been slaves to Moire," says Caine, frowning.
Conner nods. "I suspect the tattoos would indicate who owned the Tritons and thus who was responsible. I wish I'd got a better look before the fist hit my face." Conner says ruefully.
"Tritons are an oppressed race in Rebma?" Paige shakes her head. "I suppose even Amber's darkness is reflected below."
Vere purses his lips, appears to be considering a response for a few seconds, then finally chooses not to say anything after all.
Gerard looks at his son, perhaps wondering what he might have said. He's been watching this entire business with a cross between bemusement and concern.
"Oppressed might be a little too strong." Conner muses. "But they are certainly a servant race in Rebma."
"The legend I've heard," says Caine, "is that the Tritons attacked Rebma, and Moins herself bound them into service as punishment for their crime. But that happened before my time. If anyone living knows the truth, it's Benedict, but that war may predate even him."
"And it all comes back to the eldest again for poor cousin Conner," Paige says with a smile.
"Benedict sent me to Caine." Conner smiles back. "So if he knows he chooses to hide the knowledge."
While Brita is refreshing her drink at the bar, Merlin comes up to fetch himself a drink.
"I believe we met earlier," he says to Brita, "but I have met so many people in the last few days that I am lucky to remember my own name, which is Merlin. Will you remind me of yours?"
"Brita", Brita says as she shuffles glasses to extend her right hand. "You are Uncle Corwin's son." Brita states the last as fact.
"I am," says Merlin, taking her hand and bowing over it. While he is not stiff, Brita guesses that this is a learned gesture for Merlin, not one that comes to him naturally. "And you are the daughter of Princess Fiona, if I recollect the brief genealogy lesson I had this afternoon correctly."
"I am," Brita responds with a smile for Merlin as she mimics his words. "Geneology has definitely become the hobby of the hour with so many cousins around." Brita takes a moment to look over the room. She turns back to Merlin. "You seem a bit...out of place, Cousin Merlin. No offense meant, but you have a sense of newness to the experiences of Amber. Are you comfortable here?"
Merlin starts to say something, but is forestalled by the arrival of Solange.
After a brief absence, Solange comes quietly back into the library. She surveys the scene for a minute, and chooses the path of least disturbance.
"Brita, Merlin," she says. "So, how are you enjoying this mob scene?"
Brita nods in greeting to Solange.
"It has not been very long since I attended the funeral of our grandfather King Oberon," Merlin says to Solange. "Compared to that gathering, this one seems quite tame. But there are as many currents beneath the surface, I think."
"I suppose I'll always regret not getting to meet our grandfather in person," Solange comments. "What was his funeral like?"
"In many ways, it was not unlike this evening's gathering. I think I knew more people there," Merlin replies. "There were more refreshments, but dinner was not served afterwards, or if it was, it was after we left. I believe, however, that we are less likely to see my mother making a scene here."
"So, Solange," Brita finally says into the silence, noting that Merlin seems distracted by the room at large, "I never really got to ask you how your trip was."
"Did you want to know more about the Land of Peace, or more about the trouble we had finding anywhere we DID want to go?" Solange asks.
"The trouble you had finding your desired locations." Brita says, swirling her ginger ale in the glass.
Solange takes a healthy sip from her replenished dark rum. "Jerod could probably explain it in more detail, since he's got so much more experience with shifting shadow than I do -- but as far as I could tell, not only could we not lay a permanent path, we couldn't even find what we wanted. The places we wanted just never appeared. We had storms, and we had unnavigable whirlpools and sandbars and rock shoals -- and we just never got where we were heading for. I don't have enough experience to even guess whether it was a result of the Sundering, or possibly an old trap."
"An old trap... perhaps something to ask our elders about." Brita says with a gesture to the room at large and an arched brow. "I should return to my Mother with her drink." She continues. "Would you [and this includes Merlin - I can't see Brita saying 'y'all'] like to join us?"
Merlin says, "I need to speak with our cousin Folly. Solange?" And he offers her his arm.
Whether Solange and/or Merlin accompany her, Brita returns to her Mother bearing a refeshed drink.
Merlin accompanies Brita, whether Solange does or not.
"I'd be happy to," Solange says.
Brennan takes a moment to scan the area, and settles on Corwin and Llewella. Possibly because they're a fairly small grouping, over there, and he just doesn't want to deal with a whole bunch of people at once.
Then he heads in that direction, at a stroll slow enough that if someone had had the burning desire to catch him alone, they could easily do so.
When he reaches Corwin and Llewella, he greets them, and it's fairly clear that he's mingling and waiting for dinner, not on any particular mission. The astute might catch a slight grumbling of his stomach.
"Hello Corwin, Llewella."
The two elders acknowledge his presence by nodding. (That's what happens when you talk to the silent brooders and mysterious people.)
Hey, Brennan is mysterious. And he occasionally broods. But only occasionally.
He turns to Llewella, making small talk. "I've been hearing unpleasant things about the routes to Rebma-- how much difficulty do you think there will be in returning there?"
"Apparently the Faiella-Bionin is no longer there," says Llewella. "But your cousin Conner, who was stationed as a diplomat in Rebma when the ways closed, has apparently found an alternate route out. Whether it will work as an alternate route in is another question."
"So I'd heard, about the Faiella-Bionin. There's a certain bitter symmetry there, with Tir-na Nog'th being gone. I hadn't heard anything about alternate routess, though, in or out. If this works as a way back, I wonder if that implies a mirror alternate to Tir."
Corwin says, "How do we check the neighboring clouds?" But no one took him for that kind of a mystic.
"Ask the sorcerors, I'd say." He jerks a chin toward Bleys and Fiona.
"I have heard," says Llewella, "that Jerod's sister Cambina knows a great deal about Tir. She might have a better answer to that question than I would."
"Hmm. Or, perhaps get her and Conner in the same room at the same time." He looks around, realizes that they are. "And talking about it to each other."