Battle-Scarred

Brennan pads along side Lucas in relative silence, the rest being relatively full of Brennan's occasional muttering in the harsh sounds of Uxmali, an occasional word of which sounds like it might a transphonetic of "Werewindle."

If Lucas smiles, it is only inwardly. Indeed, he maintains a gravity of demeanour that many would class as wholly admirable.

After a sufficient time passes, he looks sidelong at Lucas and says, "I assume you wanted to talk about something?" He's not working himself into a good humor, but he's at least making the attempt to work out of his bad one.

"Possibly," says Lucas. "I don't know if my presence at the post-Pattern perambulation party was missed last night? No Lucas to leaven the conversational langours over the canapes and sparkling fruit cup? Still, I daresay the new Prince's horseplay had you all in stitches ..."

"Actually," says Brennan, "I did wonder to Cambina where it was you'd gotten off to. It seemed so... quiet."

"I trumped back to Amber."

Brennan may well realise that Lucas has no trumps of his own - as far as these things can ever be known (i.e. either he's making a momentous confession, or he was with someone when he did it).

Brennan gives Lucas a long, appraising look. "Obviously, you're leaving something out of that account, but I'm not sure what it is."

"I hitched a ride back," says Lucas. "With Benedict."

"Oh, really? From the Pattern Room? Well, doesn't that raise a whole host of questions. Like, 'Does Lilly know he was there?' Not to mention, 'How did he pull that off?'"

"From the Pattern Room," confirm Lucas. "You may remember I took a wander round to the far side. I was interested in gaining a fresh perspective - I was slightly surprised that the perspective proved to contain our Uncle. As for Lilly - I suspect she had no idea. For fairly obvious reasons, I decided against calling out, 'Coo-ee, Lilly! Look who I've found!' Now - I'm not sure whether Benedict is relying on my famed loquacity to tell her he was there or my rather less famed discretion to refrain."

"Does Ben strike you as the sort of man to rely on your silence without telling you to be silent? I don't know exactly how I'd tell her, but I'm sure I'd find a way." Lucas may notice how smoothly Brennan pre-delegated that responsibility before Lucas could suggest the reverse.

"And then the King."

"Yes," says Lucas thoughtfully. "I was a little surprised he didn't wait to say hello."

"As for pulling it off ... That does intrigue me. It was easy enough to slip away using his trump of Amber. But as to how he manage to enter a brand new Pattern chamber all unobserved ... that does intrigue me."

"Yes, that's a trick I'd like to know how to do. Tell me, did it seem to you that the Pattern chamber had any other exits?"

"I didn't notice any. But then, I was more interested in the spectacle in the middle of the room rather than going around tapping for secret panels in the retaining walls. On the other hand - we've been given to understand this place is the production of Random's imagination. Nothing else, I grant you, could adequately explain the choice of carpets in the bathrooms. But if I were constructing the new Amber from my imagination, I'm pretty sure that back-doors in the Pattern Chamber would be fairly high on my list of Design Features to Avoid. I imagine that Random might be of the same opinion."

"You might be surprised," Brennan says. "Because if Ben didn't walk in the front door, and there are no secret doors, then it's even more puzzling."

"Quite," says Lucas.

"How many arms did he have?" Brennan asks.

Lucas looks at him a little strangely. "One. It takes some time to regenerate, you know - so unless he's been hanging out in a remarkably fast Shadow, there'll be little to show for it yet." He raises a hand to touch his cropped ear. "This is going to take several years, and it's all soft tissue. Bones - lots of complex bones - I'd think that'd take centuries.

"Why do you ask?"

Brennan grunts to himself. "There are a few stories of a woefully out of date Benedict impersonator showing up at the oddest places and times, but with two arms. Since this one had one arm, evidently had Trumps, and didn't do anything alarming, it was probably the real one."

"That's ... comforting," says Lucas carefully. "And has this errant Benedict actually done anything ... apart from waving two serviceable arms in a noticeable fashion?"

"Not to me," Brennan says, glibly. Then, a beat later, "I don't know that it's mine to tell. It wasn't mine to hear in the first place, I suspect. But there's a reason I stood ready instead of joining you in your spelunk."

Brennan reaches around to rub the small of his back as he walks. When he pulls it back with a bit of blood on his fingers, he mutters, "Oh, bloody hell." He glances at the path they've trod, to see if he's actually left a trail of blood to follow.

"It's a shame you didn't call out, actually. Ben's on my short, not quite urgent list of people to talk to, and I don't have a good handle on how to contact him."

"Well, a shame for you," says Lucas. "The list of people I would rapidly have become unpopular with if I had started calling out and distracting her while Lilly was walking the Pattern is not a short one. With her own father heading the list. Call me lily-livered, but endangering the life of the beloved daughter of the greatest warrior in Amber, when said warrior has his hand on your shoulder and is breathing down your neck, seems to me a somewhat foolhardy course of action.

"Live a little," Brennan says.

"Thanks," says Lucas. "I intend to - before I die a lot."

"Why do you want to talk to him, anyway? He may still be hanging around Amber."

"Some family history lessons, for one. And I am required to canvas his opinion before prosecuting the War of Lucas' Ear."

Lucas frowns. "You know, when one has so many more rather charming appendages and graces, being remembered for the fleshy parts surrounding one's aural cavity - or one's current lack thereof - is not exactly how one, personally, would choose to be immortalised.

"Should she have aimed lower?" Brennan asks.

"A little lower than me and she might have caught Cambina's pretty head," says Lucas. "A fate neither of us would wish."

"Or yours," Brennan doesn't say.

"Are you intending to carry that through? Has the idea not been received with general joy and jubilation and young ladies with flowers to toss from balconies as our brave boys march off to war?"

"It has not. But my faith in human nature-- to say nothing of Chaosi-- tells me that sooner or later someone will be forced to carry through on it. I would have preferred a more forward posture, but for the moment this is denied to me. So it goes."

"Interesting," says Lucas. "And does his Majesty believe that we should concentrate our energies instead on his New Found Land?" He pauses, thoughtful. "I hardly think Chaos will give up now - not Chaos with the power and determination that was displayed at the Masquerade. But ... you'd be taking some of our brightest and best into the heart of enemy territory, wouldn't you? If they'd go .. "

"His Majesty favors stable familial relations," Brennan says, "And I serve at the pleasure of the King. As for whether the best and the brightest would go, the point is moot, until further notice. Which is really too bad, since everything would have dovetailed quite nicely.

"But speaking of enemy attacks, you don't happen to know what happened to those playing cards of hers, do you?"

"I - alas - was hardly in a position to appreciate what method of disposal was used for them, being unconscious at the time," says Lucas. "Although .. it's possible that if any had to be dug out of my person afterwards, Gaston may have retained a portion. It would appeal to his sense of the macabre.

"Persuading him to part with it might be a little trickier." Lucas' expression is bland in the extreme. "Unless we do an exchange for one of the shards shortly to be removed from your back."

"You actually want one? Or are you just sparring?" Brennan sounds dubious, but not particularly irked.

Lucas gives a faint shudder. "It is not the sort of trinket that I normally go out of my way to acquire, actually," he says. "But Gaston might find it interesting. He has a certain interest in what one might term forensic medicine. And he may well have a souvenir of the playing cards in his gruesome little collection - if any remain."

"I'll have Gerard save some, and think it over," he says. He clearly thinks Gaston is a little odd.

That might prove an understatement ...

He glances at Brennan as he pushes open the door of what is clearly the infirmary.

Brennan follows.

"This is meant as no reflection on your prowess, you know, but will you be able to pack enough weight across the board to run a raid into Chaos?"

"I had a good mix of talent in mind, yes. I think about a half dozen is the right number for a squad. Fast, heavy, flexible. Hadn't gotten around to asking most people, since the plan is on hold, at the very least. Why, you volunteering?"

Lucas smiles faintly. "You think you might need a stylist as part of the team? Someone on hand with explications of what the best dressed demon is wearing this season? Or would you see another role for me?"

"Well, not to put too fine a point on this, Lucas, but you've played your cards pretty close to your vest in the time I've known you. I know perfectly well that there's more to you than the indolent, bitchy, noble face you present to most of the world-- but don't worry, I won't tell anyone. But I don't ever recall seeing you with a blade in your hand, much less any more... esoteric talents. Can you draw Trumps?"

Brennan sounds sceptical in that question, but one never knows.

"Never without a sketchpad in my hand," says Lucas promptly. "Surely you must have seen me?"

Brennan nods.

Then he frowns, and hesitates. "Esoteric ... talents. Some theories would have it that we all possess those. Which are sworn to the Crown, perhaps, and revealed at their discretion." Half unconsciously his hand lifts once more to his ear - then, with an obvious effort, he forces it down, and speaks with his habitual easy drawl. "And more practical ones. I can fight when needed. I know how well I fight, and which cousins not to bother sparring with because they'd wipe the floor with me. And which cousins I would defeat easily. I don't need to test myself, or others. I know. And it has the advantage of avoiding nasty injuries before breakfast. By the way, do you want me to start with the tweezers and the antiseptic till Gerard gets here?"

"If you would," he says. "And, I meant no slight to your prowess, Lucas. But the point is, I don't know what your skills are. Without that, you're something of a cipher. It's an advantage for you, but it doesn't lead me to base plans around your participation," he adds pragmatically.

"I see your point," says Lucas. "Hop up on the couch, will you? This will be easier if you're lying flat. And don't worry. I promise not to be tempted to do anything more than withdraw small shards of metal. Actually, the mess your back's in, it pretty much rules out anything apart from wondering whether one can get a decent steak tatare here in Xanadu."

Brennan complies, muttering, "It cannot be that bad, unless Bleys rusted all my nerve endings out when he took care of the rest of the blade."

Lucas, unseen by Brennan, smiles to himself. Then he addresses himself to the delicate task of removing the shards from Brennan's back, without damaging muscle or nerves.

Brennan displays either remarkable trust in Lucas' ability to extract shrapnel, or remarkable muscle control in holding steady. He expresses interest in seeing the various fragments pulled from his back.

"This is probably a first for anyone in the family, you know," Lucas says genially. "Apart from Gerard, of course. We are, after all, supposed to be somewhat more focused on finding ways of sticking sharp bits of metal into our relatives rather than pulling them out."

"There was a lot of quickstitchery after Patternfall," Brennan says. "Aisling lost half a hand there, recall."

A piece of blade falls with a rather nasty clatter into the shiny steel receptacle Lucas has placed ready.

"And this was Bleys in a friendly bout, eh?" says Lucas. "Remind me never to face him on a morning when he has a hang-over."

"That was that double-damned blade of his, acting up. If he'd been fencing with a normal blade it might have come out different. As it was, my blade just shattered in my hand during an otherwise good disarm."

Perhaps seeking to change the subject, Brennan returns to the earlier point of their discussion. "Or how were your relations with the Aisling? Perhaps a diplomatic mission to Madoc? Not, I assure you, for any purpose so gauche as to suggest murdering his niece. But it's an important corner of the Family that we're systematically neglecting."

"Aisling may have saved my life," says Lucas soberly. "In return I offered to intercede with Martin on its behalf. And offered Solace's services too. A thankless task, I suspect - it really did possess remarkably little common sense, didn't it? You must have had some fun meetings of the Order of the Ruby."

Lucas probably can't see Brennan roll his eyes in response to that.

"I suppose that might incline Madoc to look at me with a slightly less jaundiced eye, Lucas continues, "providing Aisling managed to get the news out of my friendly intentions before its untimely demise.

"As for ignoring that corner ... I suspect some of us have closer connections than others. And that the ignoring might be more apparent than real."

"Oh?" responds Brennan. "You know something I don't? It'd put my mind at ease if I knew we had someone there."

Lucas' dark eyebrows lift. "You suspect that none of Clarissa's grandchildren have taken steps in that direction? And that your father's siblings wouldn't have remedied that? Perhaps you do need my ... ah ... talents after all."

"I asked if you know something I don't, cousin. Speculation is all well and good, but to my knowledge, none of my closest kin are there presently."

"No," says Lucas thoughtfully. "My knowledge of that end of the universe is remarkably thin. As far as I'm aware, I never penetrated beyond Ygg in my Shadow wandering days. Did you? Before you went to war there, I mean."

"Many times," Brennan said, "And at considerable length. If you crossed under your own steam, I think you'd know it. Actually, I think you'd know it even if you had simply Trumped there, if you did it after you Walked. Don't ask how you'd know-- it's... qualitatively different." Brennan gestures with one hand, while he knows Lucas' tweezers are away from his flesh, grasping after a description of the difference, but not coming up with anything worth saying.

"And not the place to have positioned a few men ... or a few beings loyal and true to you before you left?" asks Lucas.

"I'm not a Lord of Chaos, Lucas. Without that, I don't think any being I left in deep chaos would have been loyal or trustworthy; I don't think it would have been possible, much less wise, to make that assumption."

"You'd probably be in a better position than most of us to claim a title there," says Lucas. "Unless they blame your father at that end of the universe too."

Brennan chuckles at something in that, but doesn't say what. "Heritage, yes, but I'm not certain Brand was a Lord of Chaos, either. Heritage is a start, but it's not enough."

"And fighting against them in a bloody war might also be seen as a disadvantage in the gaining court favour stakes," agrees Lucas.

Brennan gives Luas a strange look, but after a beat says, "I'm not even going to guess at Brand's machinations among the Lord of Chaos. Not the details, anyway."

"And the broad outline?" says Lucas. "Does it offer any different perspectives on the scenario that we're all familiar with?"

"I doubt it. Amber's existence probably rankled the Lords of Chaos. From there, it would be easy to construct scenarios by which Brand and various suitably vague Lords of Chaos could conspire to use each other."

Lucas's eyebrows lift a little. "You think they might not have remarked on your presence in the ranks of Amber, cos? I thought your presence was a little more prominent than that of the average footsoldier. Surely it's possible that one Chaosian turned to another and remarked, 'I say, old chap, doesn't that look like the fellow that came visiting us a while back? What was his name again? Brennan?' and his companionm in arms responded, 'Dammit, I believe you're right. Blighter's leading another charge ... ' Or something like that, in suitably Chaotic tems."

Brennan shrugs again. "I meant it didn't offer any new perspectives on Brand's schemes."

Lucas sets down the tweezers. "I think I've got the worst of it. Let me sponge you down - carefully - and tell me if you feel any more."

Brennan holds back a wince at several points. "Yes, there are more of the small slivers in there. But leave some for Gerard so he has something to do when he comes in." Returning to the previous topic, he adds, "Besides, it wasn't quite like that. I've spent time on both sides of the Tree, keeping busy. Think of the expeditions into Chaos more in the vein of exploration than subversion. If I were to do the same thing today, I'd have different goals."

"Hmmm," says Lucas. "I think my post Pattern pursuit of hedonism would be pretty much the same if I were in the same position today. But yes, less careless. With more sharply defined goals."

Brennan twists around to look back at Lucas. "I wasn't careless. I chose very carefully not to leave a string of affines scattered about the courtscapes-- not to even try. It seemed not the best way to keep a low profile. What goals would you tuck into the corners of your hedonism, then?"

"Nowadays? Security. The desire to look after my own. You were wise not to leave affines - they can be a terrible hold to the here and now."

He has turned away, looking for some fresh antisceptic.

"Unless I can find a way to prevent it, Solace is going to die."

Brennan takes the opportunity to pull himself up to a sitting position. His physical regimen keeps him flexible enough that he pulls himself into a lotus position without giving it much thought. When Lucas turns back, he finds Brennan's full attention on him.

"What's happening?"

"Having the children weakened her," says Lucas. His back is still towards Brennan. "Hope ... a little. Phillippe ... well, she wouldn't survive a third. The attacks ... those have drained her too. But she should be regaining strength now. Phillippe is six months old. She hasn't had another attack. She should be gaining strength, not losing it. But she is. A slow decline."

A pause, and then he turns, seeing Brennan's regard.

"I lost my father when I was seventeen," he says. "I couldn't do a dam' thing to save him. I'm not about to let the same thing happen to my wife"

"What do you plan to do, then? Are you still convinced that some agency is behind this?

"The attack through the trumps - well, yes, presumably," says Lucas. The pregnancies ... well, I have no intention of railing at Mother Nature or my Amberite blood, the latter of which is probably at the root of it. Gerard told me his mother dies in childbirth, you know. Bearing Amberite children is not easy for a mortal woman. Solace ... she may have Amberite blood, but it is not strong. And it may be that the union of two Amberites does have a detrimental effect on the woman if she bears children." A very straight look at Brennan here. "Hence the prohibition of kin matches that Oberon imposed. People have been enquiring into my methods of contraception with appalling candour recently. I would suggest ... you take every precaution in that line youreself, cos."

He closes his eyes briefly. "And I shudder to think what could be the results of Maman's latest dalliance."

Then he opens his eyes again. "I'm hoping bringing Solace to a centre of reality will help for a start. Further than that ... I don't know. It would break her heart if I set her aside, even if it was for the sake of her health. And ... " He hesitates, and then adds, "It would not be _convenable_ for me, either."

Lucas has dropped a lot of information on Brennan, and implied a lot more. He takes a moment to let it all absorb, then says slowly, "Bringing her here, or to Paris, might help. Moreso, since Xanadu looks to have better medical care," he gestures around him, "than Amber. So that's good. But what about these attacks? I wouldn't even have any idea how to track something like that."

Lucas gives his gallic shrug. "I am learning on the wing, as it were. I think they augmented her weakness rather than caused it. And it may be that they came from no malicious intent at all. Someone attempted to trump her, without realising what the consequences would be." He gives a faint sigh. "Although that does raise the question - who would have ... or want to have ... a trump of my wife?" Why not one of me? Unless ... but no. It would be impossible." Still, whatever possibility has occurred to him is making him frown.

Brennan follows the thought he thinks Lucas is pursuing. "Let's assume for the sake of argument that this is a Trump attack. If it's not meant as an attack on your wife... it could be meant as an attack on you... or a demonstration of power over you. Or, it could be something similar against her family. You said she had Family blood? Whose? It could be meant as a demonstration in that direction.

"So, this should be simple," Brennan says, because it will be anything but. "A list of everyone who would wish to hurt you or control you, or your in-laws, or her Familial forebear... who also knows the art of Trump. And I've never heard of anyone creating Trump without a Family connection."

"I was thinking," says Lucas slowly, "that mention has been made of Saeth's memories being partial. What if ... she remembers I offered Solace's help? What if ... it is not an Amberite attempting connection, but a Chaosian?"

"I'm not aware of any unrelated Chaosi who know the art of Trump," Brennan says. "And even those related... it's more of an Ordered discipline, is it not? Who are you thinking of?"

He sighs and shakes his head. "Which adds another level of complexity. But my fear the attack was not necessarily aimed at me, or Solace ... but at my children."

This baffles Brennan. "Your children? Why?"

"They bear the double line of Amber," says Lucas. "It may be significant. Perhaps the prohibitions on our producing offspring by our blood relatives are not just because of the effect on the health of the mopther. On the other hand, your mother has produced two Amberite children and lives yet, doesn't she?"

"You suspect that your children are being targetted because of their dual Amberite heritage-- something you waver between stating as a fact, and stating as rumor-- and that the chosen method is for someone to draw a Trump of their mother and occasionally harass her with it?" Brennan says. "I don't want to make light of your situation, but this strikes me as a rather convoluted line of reasoning.

"Here's my advice, for what it's worth: Find out if Solace is really a relative. Find out who else knew. Find out who drew that hypothetical Trump, and then make them to understand that this behaviour is not tolerated. Unfortunately, I can't really--" Brennan stops with a sudden thought. "Actually, you could talk to Icicle."

Icicle, Lucas may recall, is Brennan's secretary, an angular woman whose sharp tongue has lost her as many secretarial positions among the nobility as her memory and organizational skills have gained her.

Lucas looks thoughtful - and then nods.

"And, yes, Tayanna is still alive. For the moment. But she's descended from local gods," Brennan admits.

"For the moment?" echoes Lucas.

"She's lived far beyond her shadowed span, Lucas, and Brand isn't there to keep her alive."

"And Solace ... " Lucas looks at Brennan and then smiles. "She possesses blood of Amber. Brita can sniff such things out. And also sniff out where it doesn't exist. Solace's blood comes through her father - whether he was Eric, or Lord Vesper."

Brennan still looks dubious about Lucas' conclusions, even if the premises are now more sound.

[At this point, Gerard joins them in the Infirmary, and their conversations ends]

Seemingly out of nowhere, Lilly says softly in a tone meant mostly for Garrett, "I think I will be leaving shortly. There are a few things I need to do and I would like to do them soon." She does not venture looking at him while she speaks. Obviously she does not wish for him to try to talk her out of this. Her mind is made up and that is that.

Not many things can make Garrett stop in mid-chew. This is one of them.

Realizing she might seem a bit cold and distant, she adds gently, "Please understand, this is about me, not you. I must confront some of the things in my past before I can truly go forward into my future."

Garrett looks down at his plate as he finishes chewing slowly. He sighs heavily, a stalling sigh, as he tosses aside all the things he knows he shouldn't say. From everything Lilly has told him, he knew she was going to do this eventually. He just never imagined it would be this soon. Under his breath, he mutters, "Xanadu sucks."

When he finally gazes at her, Donovan's foster son has bucked up and asks stoicly, "So where are you going? And how soon is 'soon'?"

Indeed, Garrett, how soon is soon and how ready is ready. Celina sighs and crams a complete pastry into her mouth while she thinks a moment.

"I do not know," [Lilly] answers honestly. "That depends on another. I plan to contact our cousin Ossian as soon as possible. If he is willing to let me come to him so that he may teach me the ways of Shadow shifting, I will depart then. If not, I may seek out another tutor." Lilly takes a small bite of food before adding as something of an after thought, "Perhaps my father has time for me." There is a hint of bitterness in her voice that until now has remained unheard.

While Garrett and Lilly talk quietly, Bleys slides down against a wall and settles on the floor, one of the pastries Celina brought in hand.

"That was more excitement than I expected for one moment. I'm relieved that no one was injured--other than poor Brennan, of course, but he'll recover. Unless either you or Folly has an allergy to rust, of course."

He has not bothered to don his shirt again after Gerard's brief examination.

"I expect I have the usual allergy to edged steel," Celina jokes. "But rust is just an interesting taste in the Seaward." Her eyes stray to Lilly and Garrett but draw back to Bleys. She likes what she sees and sniffs. "You are the man who created the Red Iron Falls in a single afternoon. So I imagine I'll take your word for the state of my injuries and count myself fortunate." She leans closer. "Thank you so much for your quickness."

Celina nibbles a second pastry. Thinking about her blood this morning as an omen. "I have several things I need to speak to you about before I-- before the day dies."

He nods, and opens his mouth to speak. Bleys raises a hand. "Bide," he says, simply.

"Yes." He starts speaking more quickly. "Yeznow," he says, rising and holding out his hand. In a rainbow coruscating flash, Vialle is in the room. She is standing very still.

Celina blinks.

Garrett starts in surprise and springs to his feet as the Queen suddenly appears.

Lilly is immediately at his side, hand instinctively drawn to the hilt of her sword.

Bleys raises his voice. "Lilly, look to the Queen. Amber is under magical assault. Celina, take my trumps, and inform the King, and then let Gerard know to prepare for wounded. Brennan should protect the King. Garrett, find your brother and send him to me." His eyes snap to each of them as he barks his orders.

Garrett nods once gravely. Without another word, he sprints across the salle to scoop up Martin's sword and shoes, then runs to the door.

Martin's trump deck is in his shoes, Garrett notices as he picks them up. No one stops him as he runs into the hall.

Celina gathers the deck and sorts through it with sticky fingers. When she finds the King's Trump, she has a moment to consider if watching Merlin do this and hearing about the Trump of Amber's family in Rebma are sufficient to the task.

Not that she has a choice. Merlin did say that something about resistance being more natural than connection or some such. She takes a deep breath. Celina stares at the card, remembering the light in Random's eyes as he knighted Martin. She leans toward those eyes now feeling a shiver through the back of her hand. "Your majesty?" She wills those eyes to notice her.

Lilly nods and take up a position at the Queen's side. Hidden beneath the concern in her eyes, there is a trace of disappointment. She really was hoping to leave quickly. Now she fears a long delay.

With a flick of his wrist, [Bleys's] bare sword is in his hand and his scabbard is sliding across the floor. The blade glimmers with golden tracery. "I go, Your Majesty." Bleys takes a step forward and disappears, becoming two dimensional and leaving only a brief light behind him.

"We are safe here your majesty," Lilly says to the Queen in her most reassuring tone. "We should wait here until we know of the King's wishes. Perhaps you can share what is happening so that we may better prepare for the consequences?" The disappointment has waned leaving only fear for Paige and her children in its wake. Hopefully this has nothing to do with them and they have found their way to safety.

Vialle turns toward Lilly's voice. There is a trace of relief in her voice as she speaks. "Of course, Lilly. I think we're safe here; Fiona said whatever was happening came from Arden and wouldn't reach here, that I would be protected."

She begins her tale: "There was a ranger who came in on a trump--we thought Julian had sent him, but he fell and injured his head. When Conner came home, I sent him to take a look at the boy. He had fled into the castle, and Brita was following him toward the family wing, where the children are.

"Paige and Adonis went to Conner and Brita, and then something happened--I don't know what, but Merlin and Fiona agreed there was a lot of power to it. I could feel it, too, even though I'm not, not related--I think even the servants could feel it. And Fiona said I had to be sent away for my own safety, and she called Bleys."

Lilly reacts to the story by taking the Queen's hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. That simple act seems very out of the ordinary for her. It is a definite mark of her concern for her friend and the fate of those in Amber.

Vialle squeezes Lilly's hand back. Her grip is surprisingly strong.

By contrast she says calmly, "I'm sure they were simply being cautious. By now they certainly should have the situation well under control. All the same, it is good that you are here. This a wonderful place and I am certain you will feel at home in no time."

"Bleys' deck," Celina husks with relief that it worked. "Queen Vialle is here. Danger there."

Vialle draws a deep breath and visibly calms herself. "What room is this? Is there any furniture here, or any hazards I should keep away from?" Vialle asks. She isn't as serene as usual, and she continues to stand in one place.

Lilly looks slightly pained for a moment. "Actually, we're in the Salle. And though it is not exactly up to the standards I would like, there are still weapons hung on the walls." She gives the room a quick inspection before continuing on. "Allow me to lead you to a chair, you majesty. Once the King has arrived, we can move to a sitting room or at the very least somewhere more suitable." And we can have a nice cup of tea, she thinks to herself. Jade always made tea when things were stressful. Maybe it will help.

Celina nods once and reaches forward into the air.

"Bleys deck," Celina husks with relief that it worked. "Queen Vialle is here. Danger there."

He looks worried. He looks over her shoulder at something and nods. "Bring me through."

Moment by moment. Celina nods once. She locks eyes with the King and reaches for him, not thinking in any technical sense that he is somewhere else at all, only that she is a willing doorway and she is going to pull him across the threshold. Her hand is eager.

In a rainbow flash, Random is there, taking in the room. "Thank you," he says to Celina. "Vialle, what news of Amber?" He walks to the Queen and takes her in his arms. Those who saw the King yesterday may note that he hasn't changed clothes.

"Amber was attacked, by a mad Ranger, I think he's trying to kill Paige's children."

Random nods and looks at Lilly and Celina. "Where is everyone else?"

Celina glances at Lilly, for she seems to have the official position of security for the Queen. She has no problem letting her speak first.

Though they are still and composed, the lovely pair of Lilly and the seated Vialle tickle a pulse maternal and dangerous in Celina's gut. Something about the very tense stillness of Lilly's face loosens Celina's tongue in spite of herself. Her eyes stay with Vialle's blank gaze even as she says to Random, "Bleys left to join Fiona in Amber. Gerard left to check on Brennan who left with Lucas to go to the infirmary. Martin and Folly left to get a stretch-- of air together. Garrett left to find Martin."

Celina forcibly pulls her attention back to Random. "You arrive on the heels of Bleys' departure." She holds the deck up a bit. "Bleys said Gerard should know about wounded coming."

If Random nods or gives other sign. She will Trump Gerard and give him such news.

He nods. "Go find Gerard. News will probably reach there first. Let me know what's happening when it becomes clear."

Celina wrinkles her nose without realizing. "Majesty." She bows slightly by reflex and exits the room.

Random turns to Lilly and Vialle. "Sweetheart, we're in Xanadu. We can keep track of things there from here. I can't leave to take charge in Amber, but Martin and Bleys should be able to take care of things. We have to appear in court. Can you do that?"

Vialle rises. "Of course, it's my duty. I would like a few moments to prepare. Lilly, if you would escort me to my quarters, I need to ready myself."

"Of course, your majesty." Lilly takes her place beside Vialle and allows the Queen to take her arm. She was beginning to think it was a mistake to make plans. The Universe seemed to have a was of unmaking them. With luck, things would settle down quickly and her journey into shadow would not be greatly delayed. If it was though, she would accept that. An oath was not something to take lightly. If Random needed her, she would remain.

Barring interruptions, Lilly will escort the Queen straight to her quarters and remain with her unless asked to do otherwise.