Gerard is in his chambers when Solange arrives. "How did it go?" he asks.
"Pretty smoothly, all things considered," Solange says. "Most of the rank and file are getting settled at least temporarily, although nobody seems quite sure what we ought to feed the little furry guys. There also aren't too many wounded to cope with, although I'm worried about a couple of them -- the Princess Deirdre's son Marius was injured by magic, and nobody on site's got experience with that, and Prince Julian's son Daeon had a gash in his side, but when Aisling -- they said she was a descendant of Benedict's -- when she tried to perform some sort of healing on him, it seemed to make him delusional, and he tried to injure himself again. How are things holding together up here?"
Gerard has been frowning through the recitation of the family soap opera. "A bit of this and a bit of that. Queen Vialle has been deciding where to put everyone so the least number of my brothers and sisters will be mortally insulted, and that's been plenty of excitement. I don't think I'm to be moved."
"I should hope not," Solange says with some asperity. "If I've got to make way for someone, though, I just hope someone tells me where to find my stuff."
"And I understand there's an all-hands dinner tonight, which should prove interesting enough."
"I can only imagine," Solange says. "I suppose they're going to put us all at the kids' table now?" Her attempt at humor seems a little forced. "I'm nervous about this, Dad. What if Prince Julian finds out that I'm the one who suggested making the Rangers wear the Crown badge, and gets mad at me? I don't want to get off on the wrong foot with any of my aunts or uncles. And how much do they know about me? I know I was fostered pretty quietly, but did you keep me a secret from all of them?"
"Caine and Julian knew of you; Caine because of Worth, and Julian for obvious reasons. There was always a concern if I were lost at sea; it was why I knew of his fosterage of Marius."
Solange nods, her suspicions about her uncles' lack of surprise at meeting her confirmed.
"If Julian is angry at anyone over the Crown badge, it will be me; I ordered it, and I stand by the order. I made it for good cause; when those causes no longer exist, then Random can remove it." Gerard seems unconcerned at the thought of Julianic wrath.
Solange relaxes -- provisionally. Her father may have signed the order, but it was at her recommendation, and she still feels responsible... as well as feeling responsible for not having defused the situation earlier.
His expression changes, then. "Solange, have you thought about what you want to do after the coronation, when things are more settled?"
"I don't know, Dad. How much more settled will things be, really, and how much help will I be able to offer in getting them that way? The trade routes are still in a shambles, and if one of my uncles can teach me how to lay a permanent path, it seems to me that Amber will need all the people working on that who can. There are other things I want to look for out in Shadow, too."
"Such as?" says Gerard, although he obviously has more in mind.
"Medical technology," Solange says, too-casually.
Gerard frowns. "I think we'll need to talk to your brother before you make any decisions. Vere has -- he's forced my hand on these matters. I think he and I will be leaving Amber after the coronation, and I expected you might want to come along. But the three of us can discuss that after dinner."
"I'm looking forward to it," Solange says, looking much happier.
"Will you come up beforehand, so we can go down together?"
[Assuming positive answer]
[which he gets. Do you need anything more complex than "of course"?]
[no]
"Then you should go wash up and dress for dinner." He gives Solange a hug and sends her on her way.
And she goes. Did Vialle move her quarters?
No, but both Vere and Solange were near Gerard, and it wouldn't do to move you all.
Paige, after speaking with Merle at the tent will wish to talk to her father, so much that there will be a very unladylike running hug when she first sees him after the Troop Trump.
"Father! I've missed you so," Paige says, a small tear coming to her eye as she buries her head in his chest, not worried about the surrounding troops, nobles, family, etc.
He lifts her off her feet and smiles back. "Me too, Troublemaker."
Paige awards her father a kiss on the cheek, even if he does use that particular nickname. She seems like she just wants to hold him forever, but fully aware of the troops now in camp and all the rest of the family, she backs off, enough for breathing, but not definitely out of his personal space.
"It's been several years, here, but I'm sure you know that. When you want I can give you a report, but of immediate concern might be the merchant fleet from the Lands of Peace in the harbor," Paige says, seeming rather serious about giving her father a stable foundation to step on in the new Court, but worried that such problems might be better if dealt with quickly. "Chi Lin's also here, he's been given parole under me."
"I shall want to speak to him. And I am very interested to know which captains are here and what they want. We decided that they were too untrustworthy a decade ago to crew the fleet we bought from them. How did they come to be here?"
"Chi-Lin's in the City, helping setup my household. As to the captains," Paige thinks for a moment, "They're all Abban's.. Hassan, Navneeth, and Ramala. Jerod and Solange, Gerard's daughter, brought them back as a trading fleet. It's a long story I believe. They've been docked a few weeks now and the situation dockside is a powderkeg that the Admiralty's only been able to delay, not defuse."
"I imagine so. Does the king need troops in the city? Has he counted the silver?"
"Archer seems to have things well enough in hand, and I think the plan is to send them back to sea with cargos before we let the army emmigrate back."
"We may have riots in the city and in the forest if we don't resolve the return shortly. This camp buys us days, not weeks."
"Agreed. Not to get into it, but I've had the same argument with Jerod, but he and Vere seem rather pleased with themselves as to their current handling of the situation." Paige sighs, "He's too much like his father for me not to dislike and not enough for me to hate."
"They'll learn. 'Wisdom is the remembrance of a string of past follies,'" Bleys quotes.
"Makes Random the wisest of all then, if his memory serves him," Paige chuckles.
Unfortunately, the dutiful daughter and scion of the line act dies as quickly as it was born. "So, dinner tonight with the King. Who would've thought it?"
"You shall get used to it. We all shall, I suppose."
A smile for Father, "There are worse brows to crown, as much as there might be better." _I like him._
"Fortune's Wheel is an exquisitely variable device, daughter, and the soul of the only game worth playing."
"After I'm anxious to hear about your, what... week?" _Especially Maestro's death..._
"A week or so. We used the Altamarean Knights as a calvary reserve for Benedict and that took some time to arrange."
Paige nods her head sagely. "I'm not sure who had the best of it then. One week of war and hell in Chaos, or almost six years of hell in Amber with disappearing citizens, doomsday preaching cultists, borderline famine, no trade paths or fleet to sail them, and no Pattern." Paige shakes her head at the last.
Bleys looks alarmed and quickly scans the vicinity for overeager ears. His voice lowers and his light manner drops like a leaf from a tree. "That's news. Tell."
"Cambina called it 'The Sundering'. Whether we all took to her name for it or she called it that because she knew we would, I can't say. Either way, Grandfather's actions resulted in a great quake that ruined the tower in which the family quarters resided. Most of it fell upon Gerard and an ambassador, from Bellum. Uncle Gerard survived, but for almost six years now he's been confined to a wheelchair." Paige is obviously pained by the rememberance. "His first few months were questionable, and a tribute to greater strength than lies in his arms."
"It took almost another three years until we had excavated the basements far enough to find the Pattern chamber again. When we arrived the brilliance was gone. The tracery on the ground was there, but no Power remained in them. Between the second and third veils a great rift had been opened as the bone of Kolvir protested to the quake." Paige looks a bit downcast, but continues, "I've walked it, with no effect. I fear Sundering may be the correct term. Amber, the seat of Order, has been sundered from that which made her such."
"We've had no word other than Conner from Rebma, and apparently Moire has their Pattern locked away. But they may have survived better than we, because unlike here," a cigarette appears in Paige's hand, "where Shadow is malleable, Conner was unable to have this type of control there."
"Tir hasn't appeared since Sundering Day, no matter how we've watched the skies. We had hopes that once the Trumps were working again and the King had returned that the ghost city would, too, but not as of yet. The full moon was five [GM?] nights ago, and the stairs haven't appeared."
"Without getting into the metaphysics, I think grandfather might've seperated Amber from the Pattern to protect it when he effected his repairs, setting her adrift in Shadow. Millenia of reality helped to keep it's substance, but slowly she's fading. People and items missing from the city, the tapestry fraying. If we aren't where we once were it would explain the missing Shadowpaths and the missing stairways."
"I suspect we're all at some amount of risk if we don't get into the metaphysics and find some answers. Part of my education was that it wasn't a good idea to concentrate large numbers of us in any shadow for any length of time. Those were Dworkin's words: 'not a good idea.'"
He trails off and looks in the direction of Kolvir.
"Then the answer is getting us out into Shadow, or getting us to someplace 'Real', isn't it?" Paige asks. "Reid, Osric's son and Brita's tutor, found a Shadow not far with amazing... I don't know what to call it other than potential. It almost seemed closer to reality than the Amber in which we reside, but it was... Cambina called it "anticipating something'" I think. Like it was waiting for a conjunction of mystical forces to bring Amber, Tir, and Rebma back in line. I can lead you there then.
"Getting us out into Shadow would be well enough, we'll need people more skilled than any of us," obviously referring to the Youngers, "to reforge the Shadowpaths and return the ambassadors that have been stranded here these five years."
"If it's tough to forge shadowpaths, that supports your theory that the City is not anchored by a pattern. These aren't problems for this week, though. I have a few ideas I want to research before we decide on a strategy.
"Enough about the Universe. How've you been?"
"Well enough. I had a bit of a rough time early on, due to some personal issues, but that's well past us," Paige says. she obviously isn't as keen to elaborate on these matters as she was on the state of the kingdom. "I've sat on the Regent's Council along with my cousins, helping the Regent keep things above water. I've sat the bench as a senior judge in the courts and I've been the friend of the Court and bane of the merchants. I've been satirized in print and remembered in verse. All in all, an interesting couple years.
"I'm sure many people will be happy to hear from you. Viscountess Wonder inquired just recently if I had heard of your health. She's been anxious for news, as have most of the nobles, since the King announced our victory and the army's immanent return." Paige smiles softly at her father.
"I'm anxious to know of the new cousins you bring home with you. For instance, this Daeon, he seems quite the odd sort," Paige offers.
"So I'm told," Bleys says with such a perfectly straight face that Paige knows at once she's been found out. "I've also heard that he has a rather intense effect on women. There may be women amongst the Rangers who are jealous of you, but that's always a risk of being one of us," he adds by way of consolation.
"Fi and I will be making rounds in the city in the next couple of days; we'll speak to Wonder and Chi-Lin and some of the others then. If politics has proven to suit you, there's work to be done along those lines. If not, Fiona's boy Conner may prove adequate to represent family interests.
"But really, how are things with you? How's Martin?"
The woods are all around Adonis; Heather Vale is deep in Arden, which is one reason they probably chose it.
What does Adonis do once he's in the wood and away from the camp? Adonis certainly knows that Vista will send a tracker after him to bring him back.
Adonis does not intend to force the pace, merely find some space to himself where he can recuperate in peace. Therefore he uses his woodcraft skills rather than speed to make tracking as difficult as possible and I imagine, even with his wound and not using his shapeshifting unless absolutely necessary, he can lose any tracker not of the family without too much effort.
One obvious tactic is to ensure he loops back over his own trail to check out the spoor of the tracker.
If the tracker is of the family, we'll have to take it from there but he's not being unpleasant so trackers won't be falling into traps unless they make him desperate.
It's more effort than you'd expect, but you know that Rangers are good. Eventually, however, you lose him.
It must be late afternoon. After getting away from the camp, the first thing he needs is somewhere where he won't be eaten in his sleep. The second thing will be to make a weapon out of a suitable lump of flint. For Adonis, a razor sharp hand-axe is as good a weapon as he needs. The third thing will be to replace his bandage [by now very soiled] using moss [actually very effective in RL].
It'll take more time than you have to get a flint axe going. You can get a (not-flint) rock on a stick, but building a serious weapon requires more effort than you can do between late-afternoon and dark.
In that case I think a simple staff makes more sense, it'll help him walking, as well, and its length could help keep something really unpleasant at bay.
When preparations are finished and at last he's sure he's alone, he'll just sit quietly and drink in the peace of the Forest. Eventually, he'll sleep - in light catnaps.
Adonis climbs a tree, finding a high, forked branch that will support him, keep him away from ground-based trouble (and trackers) and makes the only risks climbers and fliers. He's very tired and warmer than he expected to be up here this time of year, but he very much needs to sleep.
Up the tree he's safe from things like dogs and he'll just have to rely on his zero-point power for protection from other things, coupled with a general sesitivity to his environment.
Ah! To be surrounded by nature at last!
Sleep! Absolutely!
Adonis would like to sleep, but he finds it difficult. Normally he can nap at the drop of a loincloth (since he never wears a hat; gets in the way of the horns), but this afternoon he is restive and what little slumber he gets is fitful. He feels odd, perhaps a touch feverish.
Adonis suspects he would be having bad dreams, except that he's not sleeping long enough to dream.
How long does Adonis attempt to sleep, and what does he do when/if he decides he's not going to get good sleep?
If he's getting feverish, he has a responsibility to look after himself. He suspects the thing he needs most to heal now is sleep so after an hour, he climbs gently down from his tree.
He does not consider returning to the camp; it was quite clear no one there understood him anyway and with his condition worsening he almost certainly couldn't make it. Out here life is less stressful and that may ultimately be crucial.
His strategy is twofold: a) find or build a windbreak with a more comfortable mossy bed to lie on and b) if he can find some natural soporific plant, possibly with antibiotic and/or anti-pyretic properties, he'll eat. Though I doubt there will be enough to make much difference.
He's on the ground now and vulnerable. If his distemper develops into a proper fever, he'll be incapable of defending himself so the only thing between him and Thanatos is the natural awe most animals hold him in. He knows this will not work against all the creatures in Arden so all he can do is pray to the Unicorn and his mother that he recovers before they turn up.
If these preparations don't make a difference, I'm all out of ideas so whatever happens, happens. He again tries to sleep.
Adonis finds a suitable place and some herbs that he hopes will do more than season him for dinner. He lies down and falls into troubled, fitful, fevered slumber.
Adonis dreams. The great forest of Arden aflame, and where each ancient, noble tree falls, silky black firelillys grow from the ashes. Adonis, like all the creatures of the forest, runs from the flames, but Arden is large, large! and he has trouble crossing it. Adonis worries that Arcadia may even now be a smouldering remnant of her former self and the twisted horror of the Upper Oisen may be the model for the whole of his beloved home. Heat and smoke: Adonis is having trouble breathing in it. The flames press and he runs heedless. Running, pounding, struggling to draw breath, fighting to survive. The flames come nearer and Adonis recognizes the sound he has always heard in them. A woman, a cruel woman, laughing in wild, bell-like tones.
Adonis awakens, abruptly. He is covered in sweat.
Adonis is worried about Arcadia, even more so he has this wound in his side; he knows it will be reflected in the Land in some way but returning to it shifts higher up his list of priorities thanks to the dream.
So has he awoken feverish? Or has his dream of a forest fire come true?
If he's feverish, all he can do is try to sleep it out. He won't seek food 'cos he remembers Mater's dictum about starving fevers. If there's any more of those plants near to hand, he'll eat them.
If it's a forest fire he may be in big trouble but again his options are contrained. He must move away from the fire but at the same time he recognises that the camp must be warned. If he's well enough to shapeshift, he'll choose the best form to run through the woods. If he finds he can't outrun the fire, then his only option will be to find a suitable burrow and take refuge in the form with the lowest metabolic rate possible - and hope there'll be enough air.
More prayers in either case.
If there's no fever and there's no fire, presumably he's feeling better, in which case he starts making his way to Arcadia, pacing himself to allow recovery and living off the land as he goes.
There's no fever, and no fire. Adonis is feeling better, but still weak.
Ah! Weak! OK, he gives himself one day of rest, in which he lives off whatever food he can gather without too much effort. He's happy being insectivorous, if necessary, or vegetarian.
The next day he starts heading in the compass direction in which he thinks Arcadia might lie.
One thing strikes him as odd - he could understand why that woman could influence things in Chaos, but being able to reach into Arden seems unfeasible from Chaos. She must be following the returning troops.
This is indeed odd. Adonis has no immediate additional ideas.
Adonis also has no idea where in Arden he is.
Adonis' inate feel for nature tells him this is Arden but not a part he's familiar with. Realising he can't simply find his way to Arcadia directly, with a sigh, he turns around and heads for Amber, intending to pick up the Arcadia road closer to the City.
Adonis travels through Arden, alert for Rangers or large animals. There are trails and signs of the expected animals and no surprises at first. Arden is big, but he knows that if he heads east or north, he will be able to reach her border and orient himself.
The camp is crowded and busy, with Rangers both familiar and unfamiliar moving about. Brita has seen Julian's portrait in Castle Amber, so she has the advantage of him in that respect. It takes her some time to find him, but he's easy to spot once you get into his vicinity. Not only is he tall and impressive in his armor, but people just seem to get out of his way.
Julian is speaking with Ranger Bay when Brita approaches him. The snatches of the conversation that she overhears as she approaches all concern the changes to the shadowpaths.
Brita will wait paitently to one side to let Bay and Julian finish. When they are done or appear to be close to done, she will come forward and say "Lord Julian, I am Brita. I was told you were looking for me."
Bay pretty much shuts up when she arrives, not out of not wanting Brita to hear what he has to say, but out of deference to her.
If Brita offers her hand, Julian takes it and bows slightly over it.
[Brita does offer her hand.]
"Lady Brita," says Julian. "I am pleased to meet you at last. I have heard much of you from the Rangers. There are a number of things we must discuss; shall we retire to a place where we will not be disturbed?"
Even though he has just arrived, Julian smells of Arden to Brita.
"Yes, My Lord. We can go to the command tent..." Brita glances towards the main tent and notes much activity around it."...or perhaps it would be better to walk into the forest a ways."
"Bay, should anyone need either of us, send a runner," says Julian.
"Yes, m'lord," says Bay, and heads towards the command tent.
Julian leads the way out of the immediate area. The crowd parts before him like magic, and soon enough they are out of the press and alone on the edge of the wood.
When they are away from the crowd, Julian says, "I have been told you are my sister Fiona's daughter." Brita has the distinct sense of being looked over. "I can see something of the resemblance, in the bone structure. I would not have thought a daughter of Fiona's would be happy here. How did you come to have Arden in your care?"
Brita initially makes no comments to the first statements and responds only to the question,"Cousin Solange was 'caring' for Arden when Master Reid and I arrived in Amber. She was needed, however, to try to lay shadowpaths and the Regent and Council felt that I would do best to succeed her." Brita pauses. "Arden reminds me somewhat of Idayoll, my father's home."
Julian nods.
"I was told you were looking for your daughter. I have not seen her since before we came to Arden to prepare for the troop transport. She was to accompany me but did not. Master Reid thinks she might have gone searching for you on her own. She obviously has not found you yet."
Julian arches an eyebrow while Brita is telling this part of her tale. "Indeed, she has not. She has my Trump; it is a matter of some concern to me that she has not attempted to contact me even in these last few hours.
"How long ago did you last see Robin? Was she well, and do you know why she chose not to join you?"
"It has been about a week. She seemed...well, but anxious. She left the 'reunion' with King Random quickly - several of us did."
Julian arches an eyebrow at that.
"When I went to see if she wanted to accompany me to Arden, she seemed willing enough but still... a little anxious. She said she would go gather food for our journey." Brita stops walking. "I do not know why she chose not to accompany me. I waited for perhaps half and hour and when she did not return started on my journey to Arden as I wanted to stop in the city along the way. She did not show up or catch up to me. When I asked Master Reid about it later, he said that she had not been seen at Amber, either."
Julian does not look pleased, but Brita doesn't have a sense that his displeasure is directed at her. "Robin was on a mission for me when I left Amber; I was concerned that she did not return before my departure. That she has returned to Arden and left again is ill news indeed."
Brita notes, "Well, when we found her she was actually with a patrol we had lost in the new shadows that had sprung off Arden."
There is a crunching of steps on the forest floor behind Julian and Brita, and Julian turns to meet the newcomer, saying "Excuse me". Brita smells him, too; he is unfamiliar to her, but human. There is no sense of threat in Julian's movement, and Brita suspects he recognizes the man by the sound of his stride.
"Vista," says Julian, not sounding any more pleased. "What has happened?"
The Ranger is an older man with a craggy face, whom Brita does not recognize. He is not wearing a crown badge with his Ranger's garb. "My Lord, " he says, "your son has fled the camp." He stands there, looking for all the world like he expects Julian to chew him out.
Julian says, "Go on."
Vista continues, looking a bit like he's been sucking on a lemon, "He gave me a message to you: said he'd help you and you'd know where to find him and that he's sorry he can't be what you want him to be. That the best you can hope for is acceptance, maybe." He adds, "I couldn't stop him without injuring him, but I did set a tracker on him."
Julian responds, "Who will lose him, and unless we're lucky, possibly lose himself. Bay says the paths have shifted, and the marking of the new ones is not complete. As for Daeon, I am not entirely surprised. He is a god, but a young one. He has not learned how to control his godhood yet, rather than letting it control him." He changes the subject.
"Brita, I have been remiss in my manners in my concern for my son. I hope you will forgive me. This is Vista, one of my chief Rangers. Vista, this is the Lady Brita, my niece. She will be working with us here in Arden, if her family duties permit." And Julian favors her with a look and something approaching the ghost of a smile.
"Arden is a family duty," Brita notes as she nods to Vista and and offers her hand.
Vista gives her a firm clasp, almost surprising in a man of his age.
"I could search for Cousin Daeon if you wished, Lord Julian. I might succeed where other trackers would fail due to my..." Brita glances at Vista, "...affinity for my cousin? I would need someone who could watch for the changes in Arden, though."
Julian thinks about this for a moment. "My son is injured, but he has remarkable recuperative powers. He was supposedly injured and near unto death earlier today, but he seems to have recovered a great deal of his strength." His expression clouds at that. "I suspect I know where he went, and I will have to root him out myself. Your offer, however, is generous. Thank you."
He looks at Brita. "The King has commanded the family to attend a formal dinner. Under the circumstances, I believe he will excuse me. But someone must represent Arden's interest at this occasion. Will you do this?"
"Certainly, Lord Julian." Brita says. "I was preparing to go to the castle with my Mother and Brother when Needle mentioned you wished to see me. If you have nothing else, I will repair to the castle now and prepare for dinner."
"I believe we have things under immediate control, although we will need to confer in more detail later. If you need to return to Arden, or to speak with me, your mother has my Trump. Please give her my regards when you see her," says Julian. "Good evening, Brita."
[Brennan]
"Dare I ask, what's next? Beyond the Mandatory Fun that Solange has
taken so much glee in promulgating? There's Dara to worry about, and
there's the High Marshall of the Moonriders. And there's probably
three more threats waiting in the wings that I know nothing about."
Random's mouth quirks. "If it's only three, we're doin' fine. Vialle's planning more Mandatory Fun: a coronation at the Spring Festival and a masked coronation ball. I think we have a little time before the Moonriders come at us; they'll want to test our strength first. Dara's people we whipped pretty soundly, so I think we have some breathing room before they're back in our face. I have some ideas, but they're not ready to be the opening act, much less on the main stage. Not yet."
Brennan wears a pessimistic face during this.
He was, after all, the one to try to physically delay Dara Dearest, present at the weird occurances on Pirate Island during the first leg of the journey, and the one on the receiving end of massed archer fire and veiled Moonrider threats.
Without belaboring the points too badly, he'll mention those briefly to Random and end up with, "If we're going to have multiple tests of strength, it's probably best to be as strong as possible."
"All true. I may ask you to work with Vere to generate a report on the known risks. He's got a good grasp of local conditions and you know what we've got in the field and some of what you met coming back.
"Another cousin?"
[OOC-- And from what I've seen, this ought to be an interesting meeting....]
"Gerard's son."
It's clear that he's not going to argue about it with Random at this time any more, unless Random wants to press it into a longer discussion. Key words, though, are "at this time."
Random's attention is drawn by the approach of two newcomers to the library: Martin and Merlin.
Martin says, "They said downstairs that you wanted to see me, Dad?" He catches Brennan's eye and nods by way of greeting. Merlin smiles at him.
Random stands up, clasps his son's hand, affectionately slaps him on the back with the other, then musses his son's blond hair. "Martin. I'm glad you're back." He shakes hands with Merlin, more formally. "Merlin. Glad you're here too."
Brennan nods at both in greeting, and when Random stands up, he follows Random's lead, all the way to his feet.
Random turns back to Martin. "We had to move some people to wedge everybody into this old pile of rocks. Vialle and I took Dad's old quarters, and Vialle moved your things into another suite in the same wing. I hope that's OK."
There's a moment of awkward silence in which it's clear that it really wasn't OK at all before Martin says, "Sure, Dad. It'll be good." And he manages to stop before saying _to see more of you_, which under the circumstances can only be cutting, even if the words are sincerely meant.
Merlin's eyes are a little wide, and they look first at the King, then at his son. Then at Brennan, in something approaching silent appeal.
Brennan makes it a point not to play football in minefields without a good map. Consequently, he sent Martin what he hoped was a suffering-of-fathers glance at the hair tussling, and Merlin a slight shrug.
What does Merlin expect? He's known Random and Martin for a week and a day, respectively, and had no more than a conversation or two with either. This is something to be pulled apart after watching them both and figuring out what, if anything, the long term problem is, not something to be solved with some magic trick of conversational brilliance-- any such would only be cosmetic anyway.
[It takes almost no water to decide that Merlin wanted you to break the conversational awkwardness. That this is what he wanted in no way invalidates your analysis.]
["How 'bout that weather."]
["Isn't it big? And there's so much of it lately?"]
Thus thinks the master of father-son relations.
"Yeah, good," says Random, and there's another awkward moment of silence.
Martin breaks the silence by saying, "I need to figure out where they've stowed Merlin, then clean up for dinner. Is there anything else, Dad?"
Random says, "No." Then, thinking about it, he says, "Yeah, comb your hair, kiddo." And he smiles at Martin.
Merlin looks at Martin. Martin finds a diplomatic smile somewhere, pastes it on. "Yeah, Dad, I'll do that." As Martin is turning to go, Merlin says, "Your Majesty," to Random, and moves to follow him.
Martin nods to Brennan again on the way out. Merlin does as well, perhaps being unable to summon a smile of his own right now.
Again, Brennan returns the nod. He's sure they'll meet at Mandatory Fun, anyway.
After the two of them are out of earshot, Random says, "Heh. He reminds me of me, when I was a kid. I always did like me. Now where were we?"
"You were being optimistic. I was being pessimistic. You were inviting Dworkin to come visit out of the ether. I was asking what's next after Mandatory Fun."
"Oh, the usual, coronations, funerals, comings, goings. Dealing with What's Not In The Basement. There's plenty to do."
Something about that last bothers Brennan. Enough for him to think about it for a half a second before deciding that Random can't possibly mean what he thinks he means.
The natural consequence of this is Brennan staring at Random with a very sharp Explain-That-Comment-Now expression. Even when he realizes he's staring, he doesn't break it off, but waits for that elaboration.
[Random]
"What?"
[Brennan]
Now the eyes narrow.
"'Splain."
It's obvious that whatever social niceties Brennan may have picked up along the way tend to go out the window when he's intent on something.
If Random continue to play dumb or miss the point, Brennan will elaborate, "What's not in the Basement?" But that's solely to move things along. Brennan is happy to let it hang in the air like a pig suspended from a chandelier.
"Remind me to tell your cousins about the advantages of talking to each other. Sharing little details and quiet moments of gossip. It's a family tradition. Really, it's probably even saved lives, when one or another of us was more interested in the news than in fratricide.
"The pattern in the basement. Dad broke it when he did whatever he did. The broken pattern is even more of a state secret than the non-broken pattern was. They did tell you about Gerard?"
There's a long drawn out pause while Brennan absorbs that rather salient and important information. He doesn't let up the stare on Random, but there's obviously some kind of internal spreadsheet in his head with values being changed, an unknown or two being filled in, and a flurry of numerical activity rippling outward from those points.
This goes on for a while-- a few seconds at least, before the activity dies down, at least for the moment. It's a different world he's looking out on by the time he answers Random's question, almost distractedly.
"Not as such. I think I heard someone mention an injury, though, while we were shuffling the Army through the Trumps. Must be serious, if it's still with him after five years."
"Well, the pattern breaking even was a quake, and Gerard was in the basement. He's in a wheelchair. Not that he still can't kick my ass."
Brennan hangs his head for a moment, adding one more item to the list of things people are likely to proxy blame on him for. Although so far, that hasn't seemed to happen.
"Does he know I exist?"
"That sounds like a line from a romance novel. I don't think he'll want to date you, but yes, we gave him Peterson's Field Guide to Nephews and Nieces."
Pause.
"Rebma? Tir? The Center? At least one of them must be functional."
"The stairs are gone, although we did get Conner back from there a year or so ago, apparently. He says 'no clue, they've got it locked up tight'. We think at least one of them is functional, since we're not all dead. Nobody's gotten back to the center to see what shape it's in. It's on the list."
"At least one has to function. Somewhere. Which stairs? Tir, Rebman, or both?"
That's not wishful thinking, that's just a statement of Brennan's understanding of things, given that he and Bleys managed to lead everyone back as far as Yg.
"Both. The steps are there, the cairn is there, the path to elsewhere doesn't appear."
"One has to wonder what the point of locking down the Rebman Pattern is. A nasty and cynical mind can imagine that it's locked down for a reason. If the problem in the basement is a state secret, and nobody blew the whistle, then something heppened in the Rebman chamber that was noticeable and worth keeping secret.
"If their Pattern went dead, too, that would be enough. If it didn't go dead, then it must have changed, somehow. That just shouldn't happen."
"Yeah, well. It's not the first 'just shouldn't happen' I've heard about this week."
"Anyway, I'm sure we'll hash and rehash all of this in a few hours and I wouldn't want to spare you any of the fun of that." He puts down his empty coffee cup.
Brennan looks like he might have further grim ideas on that subject, but until thirty seconds ago he had never considered the idea that Amber's Pattern might stop working, let alone that Rebma's might conceivably.... change. The words are Thari, but they don't add up to anythign Brennan would ever have thought made any sense, so he's trying the ideas on for size rather slowly.
Twelve foot tall demons and crazy Chaos Lords are one thing, but the Pattern no longer functioning, and the metaphysical landmarks of Amber waltzing away are quite another. Brennan is disturbed enough by this that he's actually a little bit pale, but he recovers his color by pacing as he thinks.
Last modified: 09 June 2002