Dinner And Patternwalk

Dinner is an informal affair: fried fish and fried potatoes served on tables pulled out onto the balcony. Anyone who's spent eight weeks in a van with the King of (almost) Everything can almost hear the jingle of Texorami's most popular fast-food chain. People from shadows where hardened arteries are a problem are probably very grateful for their superhuman Earth stat. Soren says that at least it isn't that 'Lizzard Partes' stuff they got on tour.

However, the food is tasty and the beer is both cold and carbonated and the view of the waterfall by moonlight is even more spectacular than in the gloaming.

Caine and Gerard are sitting by the edge, looking out to sea. Caine has a spyglass that he keeps handing over to Gerard as they look at whatever it is they're looking at, far out to sea.

Cambina and Martin have a brief conversation, which mostly consists of him saying things and her nodding.

If Bleys is still present during dinner, Brennan probably talks shop with him.

Random keeps conversation to a minimum and changes the subject any time anyone starts to talk about the pattern or Lilly's upcoming walk. Otherwise dinner is uneventful.

Soren and Gerard both decline to go below for what seem to be obvious reasons. Random takes Garrett and Hannah aside to tell them quietly that the rule is that the first time you see somebody walk the pattern it should be someone wearing your shoes. They can, if they want, take this opportunity to prepare some sort of celebratory gesture for Lilly, like baking a cake or short-sheeting her bed...

Garrett nods his understanding of the restriction, then looks a little apprehensive as he wonders if it's family tradition for the uninitiated to bake cakes for new Pattern-walkers.

Hannah looks thoroughly disappointed in Random. "And here I thought you'd be all for rule-breaking," she nudges, only half teasing. "And I went to finishing school, I can do better than short-sheeting," she mutters.

Before the group departs, Garrett moves to Lilly's side. He squeezes her hand and leans in to say softly, "See you on the other side." Then, after giving her a quick kiss on the cheek and a confident grin, he walks away to make room for others who wish to speak with her. He does not look back, so she cannot see the worried crease that now crosses his brow.

After a brief, whispered conversation with Martin, Folly moves in to speak with Lilly as well, taking her hands and looking into her eyes and offering words of encouragement in a steady rhythm like walking footfalls: "Always forward... never stopping... you can do it... we'll be waiting...." She smiles and gently squeezes Lilly's hands. "Strength."

As the others move away toward the stairs, Folly appears at Garrett's elbow. "Kitchen or studio?" she asks with a gentle smile. "Your choice." She turns her smile on Hannah, extending the invitation to her as well.

Garrett smiles warmly at Folly. Gods, she always knows, he thinks. "Well, we just ate, so how 'bout studio?" he responds, also glancing at Hannah inquiringly.

"That's fine with me," Hannah says. "I'm very intrigued by it."

"And I'm very obsessed with it," says Folly, grinning broadly, "so I think we have a winner."

She looks over to where Soren and Gerard have hung back from the rest of the crowd and, with a couple of hand-signals that probably look pretty cryptic to Hannah and Garrett, lets Soren know where they're headed.

Soren nods and waves them on. He and Gerard seem to be having a discussion about the fine art of Regenting.

Folly leads the way back to the studio, a large room dotted with couches and oversized pillow-like things that are probably meant to be sat on, or to absorb extra sound, or something, and a couple of small round cloth platforms the purpose of which are probably not immediately obvious to those who've never seen a trampoline -- and of course lots and lots of instruments in cases and on stands.

Garrett looks around in amazement at all the instruments. He recognizes some, like acoustic guitars, drums and a fiddle, but at others, he cocks his head curiously. He squats in front of a black and white instrument on a stand. It looks a lot like a guitar, but it has a solid wood body, knobs and no hole [OOC: I'm picturing my former boyfriend's Fender Stratocaster]. He strums his thumb across the strings and shakes his head in disbelief at how someone could make music with that.

"Do either of you play anything?" Folly asks, trying to keep her overeagerness from showing too plainly on her face. "If not, pick something and I'll show you how it works, if you'd like...."

"Does tapping on the tables at the Pickled Grouse count?" Garrett half-jokes as he rises and looks over at her.

"Yes," Hannah laughs, "it means you might become one of those types that like to beat on things." She turns and winks at him so he knows she's joking.

He grins at Hannah, then continues to poke around; touching, tapping and strumming things like an inquisitive child.

Folly snorts in amusement, but then her eyes light up. "Oooh, maybe we could graduate you to tapping on tablas...." Her eyes scan the room for a good starter drum as Hannah continues:

"I play a kind a flute, and a kind of... dulcimer. Have you heard of that?"

Folly, still taking a quick visual inventory of the room, nods. "Yeah, I have, but it doesn't look like we've got any yet -- though I'm sure we can remedy that. I, ah, I know a good luthier." She grins. "Hammered, or the, uh, strummy kind?"

"Strummy kind, but even more special than that - you can use a bow on it. I haven't touched one in five years, though. I hated learning it - finishing school - because of course you're supposed to look composed and ladylike and I chew on my lip too much when I'm focusing."

Folly's grin suggests she can relate to that particular problem.

"But now I miss it, some. I never actually owned one," Hannah says, glancing around at a room full of toys she could never have afforded.

"And I beat on drums sometimes, but not like..." Hannah gestures around, and seems unsure where to start exploring. "Music is our culture, in my tribe. It's... linked to the spiritual in such a way - you can't have one without the other."

Folly, intrigued, stops her searching and looks at Hannah. "Then... maybe... what we oughtta be doing is setting up a good walking rhythm, y'know?"

"That sounds good, actually. Then I'd be right at home," Hannah smiles.

"What's that?" Garrett asks without turning from his examination of a large bass amp. "And what's this do?" he asks as he spins the knobs on the amp. Fortunately for everyone in the room, it's not turned on.

Folly laughs in amusement and delight, and spends the next several minutes taking Garrett and Hannah on a quick tour of the instruments, showing off the acoustic ones and explaining about the electric ones. She plugs a bass into the amp and shows Garrett what the knobs do, and explains how twisting the knobs all the way to eleven and then turning the thing on is probably not a good idea. She looks a little sheepish, as if she's speaking from deeply-remembered experience.

As she shows off the instruments, Folly talks about the other members of the family -- the ones who were around during the Regency, anyway -- and what instruments they play. Solange has learned bass, and Vere plays the harp and sometimes bagpipes, Jerod plays violin (but sometimes he just prefers to listen), and Ossian plays lute and a very avant-garde flute, and Paige -- who used to be a mistrel's apprentice -- plays several things, and Robin plays a little ocarina, and Conner plays the pennywhistle, and of course Reid plays anything with strings....

Folly's whole face lights up as she talks about the instruments, and the music her cousins make. One suspects there's very little she'd rather be doing.

Garrett grins at Folly's infectious excitement. "And what do you play?" he asks, though he knows at least part of the answer from having seen her at the Pickled Grouse once. She can probably tell he's hinting.

"Whatever I can get my hands on," Folly replies with an equally large grin. "Anything percussive, anything stringed, and a few blowy-things too. And I sing. Kind of a lot."

When they make it around to the collection of percussion instruments, Folly contemplates a waist-high hand drum and then looks at Hannah. "Think you could make do with one of these?"

"I think I could. I hope y'all will forgive me my rusty-ness. We - uh, women don't get to play them in big ceremonies, and I've been too busy the last few years for much else," Hannah shrugs.

"I'm sure it'll come right back," Folly encourages. "Drumming is one of those things that gets in you and stays, I think, like riding a bike, or s-- uh, some other things like that." She grins. "Which reminds me of something I wanna talk to you about later." She taps out a soft but complex little rhythm on the drumhead to test the sound and, satisfied, offers it to Hannah. She seems eager to hear her cousin play.

As Hannah and Folly discuss hand drums, Garrett slides in behind the drum set in the corner. He remembers seeing one like it in the King's office in Amber and now he's curious. Is it in the blood? He takes a moment to look over the arrangement of pedals, cymbals and drums, then sits down and picks up the sticks. He begins tapping out a simple pattern on snare and tom, tentatively at first, then a little louder once he gets used to the volume. The boy's not flashy, but for a first-timer, he holds an amazingly steady rhythm.

Hannah raises an eyebrow and shoots Folly a speculative look.

Folly has gone very still, watching and listening; only her fingers move to mark time against her thigh. After a long moment of intense scrutiny, her expression relaxes into a wide smile -- excited, impressed, and maybe also a little sheepish.

"The king will be so proud," she says, just loudly enough to be heard over the drum. "Those are his, you know." Her eyes are twinkling.

Garrett stops playing and looks up guiltily. "He won't mind me using them, will he?" he asks nervously.

"If he was going to mind he could have put them up where the curious explorers, abandoned and not allowed to go see the family ritual, could not find them," Hannah says. She starts testing out her drum with flat palms and then fingertips around the edges.

Folly snorts and casts a brief sidelong glance at Hannah. When she turns her gaze back to Garrett, she seems to be weighing several responses in her mind. Finally she says, "He was always sort of particular about those, but I don't think you're going to mess them up." She smiles. "You seem to know what to do with them."

Garrett quirks an eyebrow at Hannah's comment, but decides wisely not to touch it. To Folly, he responds, "I don't really know what I'm doing, but I'll be careful."

Folly scoops up a spare drumstick from the floor and balances it horizontally across one finger. "It's kind of like riding a horse," she says, and smiles. "Just exactly like you told me: you can actually get better control with a light grip than with a too-tight one. See?" She curls her fingers gently around the stick and holds it up to demonstrate.

Garrett watches closely and adjusts his grip on the drumsticks accordingly.

He plays a new pattern for a moment, then pauses. "Folly, you've walked the Pattern. How long does it usually take?" he asks. To Hannah, the question might sound casual, but to Folly, who has spent so much time with Garrett and Lilly recently, it is anything but.

Hannah does seem quite interested in the answer though, although she doesn't let go of the quiet rhythm she's found beneath her hands.

Against her thigh, Folly's fingers follow the rhythm of Hannah's drum. "Honestly? The only one I've seen is my own, and by about halfway into it I ceased being aware of the real world. For all I know, it could've been a half-hour, or many hours. Definitely not less than a half-hour, though, and if I slowed down at the end as much as I sort of think I did, probably quite a bit more than that." She gives Garrett a gentle smile. "So it's definitely still way too soon to start worrying." She transfers her tapping fingers to a nearby djembe, quietly testing its sound in a counterrhythm to Hannah's.

Garrett does the mental math. Assuming she only thought she slowed down, a half-hour was halfway, so figure an hour, minimum. Once he works it out, he nods. "All right," he says, mollified for the moment.

He goes back to the drums, adding the bass drum this time, and tries to fit a rhythm into what the women are playing. After a short time, he finds that he makes fewer mistakes if he doesn't think too much about what he's doing -- when he stares at some fixed point and just lets himself feel it. The sensation is similar to what he feels when he rides fast; how something inside seems to take over and move him with the rhythm of the horse. He's never been able to explain it, nor can he now. It's just that feeling.

Letting Hannah take the lead, Folly weaves supporting beats and flourishes around those of her cousins. Her grin gets wider and wider as she hears Garrett settle into the groove.

Hannah picks up the volume as everyone gets settled. "So you don't have something the people waiting do while someone does this ritual, do y'all? Except I think now we do?" She asks loudly, over the drumming. She starts humming something because she just can't help it.

Folly laughs with joy. "When it's your turn, I think we should play while we watch. I'll bet Syd won't mind, if you don't. Has he said anything to you yet about taking your own Walk?"

"All he said to me was I'm too young," Garrett grumbles without looking up from his drums.

Folly's smile is wry with sympathy. She knows all about having to wait.

Hannah shoots Garrett a quick look and smiles. She looks back to Folly. "No, but I've got to talk to him about it. Is it normal for everyone to go watch?"

"Well, when I did mine, everyone in all of Xanadu turned out to watch," Folly says, "which worked out to... three people, besides me." She grins. "But they were the exact three people I would've wanted there anyway, so that worked out pretty well." She taps out a bright little rhythm as if to emphasize the sentiment.

"I'm not sure there is a 'normal', really," Folly continues. "I think traditionally it's rare to have so many of us in one place at the same time. But the Walk is a huge big deal, so I think when there are people around that know about it, they naturally wanna go offer their support -- like they would if, you know, you had a debut or something." She regards Hannah with twinkling eyes. "So, what, you'd rather not have an audience of your fifty closest family members you've only just met?"

Hannah laughs. "I don't know. Maybe. Maybe not. I'll admit, the idea appeals to me. When our young people are going through our initiation rituals, everyone is usually cooking up a feast for the end, because the initiate has to fast. On the other hand - we've only just met, and if I'm not wrong, this is a deeply personal journey." She shrugs. "I'll have to think about that."

Folly smiles. "Deeply personal is right. Personal, and different for everyone. Mine was wild."

As they speak, Garrett stops drumming and slips out from behind the drum set. He keeps his expression neutral as he quietly goes off to play with something else. In reality, though, he's steaming. 'They naturally wanna go offer support', Folly said. Well, no sh!t, Garrett growls in his head. He's accepted the fact that he has to wait for his own walk, even if he doesn't like it. It's not being allowed to be there for Lilly that's driving him mad. Folly had been allowed to have the people she cared about with her. Why not Lilly?

On the other side of a stack of amps, Garrett finds an acoustic guitar on a stand. He picks it up and sits cross-legged on the floor. With a pick, he strums a few times, not gently, before settling down and picking out notes. Liking the sound of the instrument, he makes a mental note to have Folly teach him chords sometime. Some other time when he can actually concentrate.

Folly hears the agitation in the strumming and looks up, concerned.

Hannah looks a bit concerned, but never breaks her beat, and says, "Garrett, come help me. We'll call her ancestors to help. There's room on this drum."

Garrett stops picking when Hannah speaks and for a long moment, there is only silence. Just when the women are beginning to think he's not going to answer, they hear a heavy sigh and the sound of a guitar being placed back on a stand.

He emerges from behind the amps, obviously putting on his best game face. It's not their fault, he reminds himself. He's skeptical about this "calling the ancestors" bit, but as he crosses the room, a distant memory hits him. King Oberon. As powerful as he was, his eyes had been kind that one time, many years ago, when Garrett had met him. If anyone could help Lilly, he could. Hells, it couldn't hurt. Shaking the hair out of his face as he looks at Hannah, he asks with renewed curiousity, "What do we do?"

Hannah motions Folly over with a tilt of her head.

"We drum. The rhythm of the drum represents the pulse of the earth. This Earth has one - and I'm sure if we concentrate we can find it. It connects us." Hannah seems to take this seriously. "Lilly is connected to it, perhaps... my people have... beliefs about the sacred fire... Nevermind. It connects us to Lilly, and she's connected by blood to her ancestors, whether she knows them or not. So we're connected to them. She's too busy to call them, so we'll call them."

Garrett quirks an inquisitive eyebrow.

As she comes to join Hannah, Folly nods. The trappings are different from what she is used to, but the ideas make a certain intuitive sense to her.

[Hannah]
"I can go first, and everyone can take a turn. You just ask them for what you'd like them to do for her. Don't be greedy, try to be wise. And then you just stay in the... rhythm. Stay connected. Some people sing."

Garrett nods thoughtfully, his brow knitting together as he considers what to ask.

Hannah smiles at Folly. "You turn your hopes inside and let them come out in music, in some way. I'll probably sing too - but spirits... don't always understand words. That's why music helps."

Folly nods again, and smiles.

Hannah shrugs. "Really, you just do whatever feels right for you. That's all. You don't have any tobacco, do you?" she asks Folly. "I'm out again."

"No, not on me," Folly says apologetically, patting her pockets, "and here I can't--- Oh, waitaminute!" She darts over to one of the instrument cases propped in a corner, opens it up carefully -- it has a fiddle inside -- and rumages around one of the inner compartments. After a moment, she makes a triumphant sound and brings her prize back to Hannah. "Old habit," she says, a bit sheepishly, as she offers Hannah a red-and-white carton of cigarettes in her outstretched hand. The pack is almost full.

Hannah takes it and steps away to find an ashtray. She picks up the matches laying open by it and brings it all over to set on the floor behind where she was standing. She breaks open a couple cigarettes with an apologetic glance at Folly. She uses the papers to get it lit - just a bit of smoke.

"It - helps. I'll explain later," Hannah says.

Folly nods and smiles again, eager to see what this ancestor-calling is all about.

Garrett, still pondering his words, watches Hannah with interest, ready to follow her instructions.

Hannah flattens her hands against the drum and closes her eyes. She starts a new beat, something a bit slower and more primitive. Then she adds to it with fingertips, a little bit of high tapping, to fill in.

Hannah opens her eyes and smiles at them briefly when she thinks she has it. She's no master drummer, but it's obvious she's been doing just this kind of thing most of her life. Then she closes them again, and begins.

Hannah sings it first, in a foriegn tongue; a metered poem - that much is obvious. And then she repeats it, in Thari.

"We call upon Mother Earth and Father Sky
We call upon the spirits of the earth, wind, fire, and waters.
We call upon the ancestors of Lilly.

Come to her in her time of need
Bring her blessings of strength and protection
Lead her on her path in darkness
Shed light by knowledge to show the way"

Hannah continues humming, quietly, but opens her eyes to wink at Folly. She doesn't stop the movement of her hands upon the drum, but she looks very content.

Folly smiles and closes her eyes. She is shifting her weight from foot to foot in time with the drum. After a few minutes she begins to hum, too, quietly at first but slowly growing. Then the humming gives way to words, though they're not in any language Garrett or Hannah recognize; but the tune and the words sound warm and inviting. To Hannah, Folly seems remarkably attuned to the rhythms of this place; and her song seems to be all about drawing the spirits to this welcoming home to surround their daughter Lilly with strength and love.

After a few minutes, Folly brings her tune back down to quiet humming; and though she gives no obvious signal, Garrett knows it's his turn.

Garrett glances back and forth uncertainly at the two of them, then settles into his own complementary rhythm on the drum. He closes his eyes and takes a moment to get into the rhythm, almost like a hesitant jumproper waiting for the right turn to jump in.

When he begins, he sings softly, quite conscious of the fact that he's no poet. Folly recognizes the melody as a common Docksider folk song, with different words:

"Grandfather, passed these years gone by,
Crafted Amber with your iron will.
Yet with gentle hand touched me.
Touch she who walks your path tonight
And pass that pow'r that so filled you."

As he sings, the working-class accent fades enough for Folly to notice just how strikingly similar his singing voice is to his father's. He hums another round of the melody, then cracks one eye open to see what Hannah does next.

Hannah smiles reassuringly at him and keeps right on humming. It turns into a little singing, and she's able to make it work with Folly's singing. Hannah eventually turns to singing herself, though she's back to that language she seems most comfortable in. Her look to Garrett encourages him to keep drumming.

Random leads the way down long, dimly lit corridors to an elegant enclosed staircase. He starts down it and doesn't slow until he reaches the bottom. A short trip through a more natural section of caves leads the group to a vast room, hundreds of yards across. The floor is flat as glass and the chamber is illuminated by a soft red glow from the tracery that covers almost all of the floor.

Cambina lets out a breath, as if she's been holding it since the sundering. As if something she didn't know she'd been worried about turned out not to be true.

Celina is surprised how much this Pattern looks like the one she knows, then she sees it is mirror reversed and the notion locks her into paralysis. She stops breathing though her mouth shapes a word she doesn't say. A hand reaches out and traces shapes.

Finally, Celina's ribs shudder and she steps closer, breathing again. Red, not gold or pink?

A very Bleysian mood comes over Brennan, just for a moment, as he lets the red tracery really bring out the color of his hair. He gives it a good, long look, comparing and contrasting to others he has seen. Other than the color and the surroundngs, are there siginificant differences?

Silence engulfs Lilly. As they descended she had been merely quiet. Now she seems afraid to breath or make the slightest of motions. She stares the red glow, completely mesmerized.

Lucas moves slowly, as though hypnotised. He has a quite word with Lilly, wishing her good fortune, and giving her a reassuring smile. Then he moves as far as is possible around the perimeter of the Pattern, watching it with interest, as though he is measuring its similarity to the Amber Pattern, and its differences. If he spots the difference that Folly encountered (the Fourth Veil), he tilts his head on one side a little, considering.

Veils are not visible from outside the pattern, unless someone is walking them and kicking up a veilful of sparks.

The pattern chamber is hundreds of yards across and only a soft red glow from the pattern illuminates the room. It is quite possible to get thoroughly out of sight of the rest of the group. Other than the color, it is just like the pattern Lucas knows is burned into his very being.

Solange looks out over the new pattern, taking it all in in one long glance, and smiles in delight. She gives Lilly a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder, then walks over to stand by Cambina.

After most of the others have given Lilly a quick word, Brennan approaches her. If she permits, he puts both hands on her shoulders.

The touch seems to break the spell the pattern had cast over her. She looks up at him and swallows her. For the first time ever, Brennan can see true fear reflected in her eyes.

He looks her straight in the eye and says quietly, "I'll see you when you're done, Dame Lilly. Don't even think of turning until you're done. I've got your back." He waits for the response, if any, before heading back.

Slowly she nods, "Thank you. That means more to me then you could know," she replies honestly.

Surprisingly, he does not stand right next to Cambina, but, bearing in mind the stories about what happened during Merlin's Walk, he stands apart with enough room to move quickly if need be.

He plants himself like he grew out of the stone.

Brennan believes in me, Lilly thinks to herself as she stands there surveying her destiny. The others as well. I will not let them down. From a pocket she removes a simple metal ring. A second passes as she looks down at it. Slowly a gentle smile spreads across her lips. I will not let him down. She closes her fist tightly around the ring. With a deep breath, she chances looking upon the pattern once more. As she does, her confidence seems to return.

Martin also quietly offers her his good wishes.

After everyone else has approached Lilly, Random looks at her. "This is the biggest crowd I've seen for the old squiggle since I walked it the first time. OK, the rules are we haven't said too much because it's easy to psyche yourself out. The pattern walk, especially the first time, is different enough for everyone that it's not worth giving too much advice about. It's a test of willpower and ego, really. You must start at the start and walk every bit of it, no matter what impulse you have to step off the line. When you're in the middle, you'll know more."

Lilly nods. The universe is about to become abundantly more clear. That thought is at once exciting and terrifying. Best to hold onto the excitement, focus it, use it, she decides. Push aside everything else.

"The thought that helped me get through was 'how hard can it be if Fl--all my brothers and sisters did it?' You'll come up with your own thought. Ready? Then start at the start."

His thought brings the hint of a smile to her lips. With a nod to the King, she moved towards the beginning of the pattern.

Random takes a step back and places his hands on his hips like Peter Pan.

He snaps his fingers. "Veils! I knew I forgot something. There are veils. They're harder than the other parts. Keep going when you get to them. OK, ready? Go."

Again, her answer is a simple nod. At the start of the pattern, she pauses. She places the ring Garrett crafted for her on her left hand and spends a moment looking at it. Strength. His and hers. She could do this. Absentmindedly her hand comes to rest on the hilt of her sword. In that instant a decision is made. Turning away from the pattern, she looks at the assembly of relatives.

"Martin," she calls unbuckling her sword belt. "If my return is delayed, tell your brother he had best take good care of this." She holds out the sword for him to accept.

Martin takes it solemnly, nodding once. "I will."

Once free of the blade, she turns back to the fate laid before her. With a final deep breath, she steps forward...

As Lucas probably won't get many chances to visit the Pattern, he'll circle it slowly during the Patternwalk, if that's possible, watching Lily as she walks. He's drawn to the aesthetic of the thing - you don't just look at a three dimensional masterpiece head on, although unless you're a very small and sticky child, you probably don't climb all over it, either). And there's also interest in seeing Lilly walking from different angles.]

Lucas moves through the pattern chamber, wandering widdershins [arbitrary GM choice. change to 'deosil' if you don't like widdershins] around the giant red tracery on the ground. The glow from the pattern itself is enough to let Lucas see his footing and the wall, but not much more. It is no more than a few moments until he is out of sight of the others.

Lucas is perhaps two thirds of the way around the great chamber, watching Lilly negotiate the Second Veil when a hand comes down on his shoulder.

"Hello, Lucas. I don't think they know I'm here."

If Lucas looks over his shoulder, he sees a tall, gaunt one-armed man of familiar (and familial) mien.

Lucas gives a slight start at the touch, as one would, and then raises his opposing hand (depending which shoulder Benedict has grabbed) to rest it briefly over Benedict's hand in reciprocal greeting.

"No, Sir," he agrees. "And we'd best wait till the end to avoid disturbing her. Although she looks set enough."

He stares out over the Pattern to where Lilly is walking.

"You must be very proud," he says. "She's a formidable and very lovely woman."

If he is conscious of the marked contrast with his own Patternwalk, as he described it to Brennan, he does not show it.

He closes his eyes and does not respond for some moments. Just when Lucas was going to give up on him, the Prince replies. "It reminds me of days long past, Lucas, and other walks under more urgent circumstances.

"You should keep your children from walking it too soon, if indeed they do so at all. It is more powerful than we know and not all are strong enough to undertake it, even if both parents are."

Lucas's eyes seem even darker than usual with memories. "Indeed," he says quietly. "I believe nothing save the most dire necessity would bring my children to this."

He stares at the flickering blue flames, at Lilly, moving steadily forwards. Perhaps, superimposed in the flames, he sees Solace, pale, and delicate. Perhaps he sees his children, Hope so dainty, a perfect little Flora, with something of her mother's fragile beauty and Lucas' own charm, uncorrupted by cynicism. Perhaps he sees Phillippe, sturdy and determined, still all latent potential. They would be there is the flames for Lucas now, he knows. Where they there then, on that first angry storming of the Pattern, some of the unknown shapes and shadows that confronted him? He hadn't been young ... past his first century - and yet the Pattern had made him feel like a child, had made his argument with Flora seem to be a toddler's stamping his feet while all around him great Empires trembled and fell.

"For me," he says quietly, "it was as though I was a reptile, shedding my skin. Each Veil ... as I passed through it was as though my skin had been left behind, and I was raw, exposed. After the first Veil, I supposed there was no more - and yet each Veil tore off another layer, another skin. The last Veil ... the tearing pain of it. I thought it would expose my heart, that I would be like an anatomical drawing of veins and nerves, no longer ... Lucas. No longer human - if I ever was. When I stood in the centre, I felt more naked than I ever have been in my life before - a nakedness that went deeper than the skin, a nakedness of ... the soul, perhaps. And I knew, this was the thing itself. And the power ... flooded into me."

He sounds shaken, just recalling it.

"It is individual for everyone, I know," he says presently. "But to put my children through that, knowing they might ... No, my Uncle. You need have no fear that I will be precipitate."

Benedict nods.

With something of an effort he appears to recover his usual urbanity. "Lilly is strong," he says. "She will succeed." And there is a note in his voice, a thread of steel, as though he would use his own will to aid his cousin's onward path.

"It's a test of will, not strength," Benedict corrects him, absently. Benedict crouches down on his haunches, and looks closely at the loop of the pattern nearest the two of them. "I didn't expect it to be red."

"No," agrees Lucas almost absently. Then he frowns, as though struck by a sudden thought - but he says nothing.

The first step is, of course, deceptively easy. By the third, Lilly is beginning to believe the stories of the hardships faced upon the pattern are little more then family legends passed down to keep this hidden power in check. The tension begins to leave her muscles and she relaxes slightly. Her mind begins to let go of its anxiety.

A cool breeze touches her skin. A putrid stench fills the air. She can see them, surrounding her. Most are dead, she is sure of it. Yet here they stand untouched by time, their fragile bodies caked in filth. Tattered scraps of clothing hang on skeletal frames. Hunger has long since passed. They no longer recognize the need to eat. Silence clings to them. They never spoke. Those who did were often beaten for disturbing the elders. No, it was best to withdraw completely behind vacant stares.

She had been one of them. Unwanted, abandoned, a product of a war few wanted. Her mother had left her there as an infant. Perhaps the woman had no choice. Perhaps she had thought her daughter would not survive. Her reason no longer mattered. None of their mothers' reasons mattered. The outcome was the same; loneliness, heartache, starvation, abuse. In the end, an unmarked grave was all that awaited them. It would have been so easy to give up then, to stop the journey and allow death with its promise of eternal peace to take hold.

//Peace//, Lilly thought. //Stopping would bring peace.//

//No. You must continue.//

//But why? The others, they had all suffered. They had all met their fates long ago. Perhaps it is time to meet mine.//

//You are meeting yours. By walking. Your fate does not have to match theirs. There is no guilt in surviving.//

//Yes there is. Many nights I lie awake feeling that I do not deserve the life I have been given. Perhaps it is time to give it back.//

//No. Not here, not now, not like this. You are a fighter. Do not give up without a fight.//

//Fight. I must fight.//

The ghosts fade. A man replaces their image. He is tall and thin. As a child she did not know him, did not recognize his features as her own. He lifts her up carries her forward. Once again, he saves her as he had the night they met.

A mounting feeling of being completely alone quickly replaces the warm comfort she had found in his arms. He is gone. There is no one here to aid her. The journey must continue in solitude...

A new set of faces appears before her. These she knows much better. Each calls to mind a name. They were her opponents from the Tecys. Each had believed they could defeat her. She was, after all, a simple girl with odd features. Few had given her much of a challenge. Moving forward, she greets one after another, remembering the sweet victories. Her confidence surges despite tiring legs. Then an unexpected face appears. Jade...

The woman had the highest of hopes when she began fostering Lilly. She would raise her to be a true lady. Prince Benedict would know only pride when he looked upon his daughter. Her etiquette would be unquestionable. Of course, there would be sewing lessons and perhaps some time to teach an instrument or two.

Jade's mistake had been in assuming Lilly would not take after her father. She was awkward with a tea set, breaking cups and spilling whenever she tried to pour out. Social etiquette was nearly beyond her comprehension as a child. Sitting still long enough to do a proper hem was nearly impossible for the girl.

Despite that, she learned other things with unparalleled ease. Reading was second nature. She could spend hours observing nature and landscapes. By the time she celebrated her tenth year, Lilly's skill with a sword rivaled most men.

Jade and Lilly never really understood one another but their arguments were few. Lilly dared not raise her voice or disobey. Instead, she used subdued methods of asserting her will such as sabotaging the projects Jade had prepared for her or disappearing for the entire day. For Lilly, avoiding feminine pursuits was a challenge, a game.

It helped that her foster father was often a willing accomplice. Many were the days he helped her avoid Jade's eye as she set off for the far parts of the estate. Mallet sensed what Jade could not. He knew her destiny lay not with a needle but with a sword. For that, Lilly loved and respected him. It was only when he asked that she gave into Jade's desires.

Guilt begins to rise once again. Lilly had forgotten how much strife she caused the woman who would have given her life for her. If she had only been better about learning the things Jade wanted to teach her. Being the greatest swordsman in existence was all fine and good but it was not enough to live by. She needed the skills her foster mother had tried to impart. For years, there was nothing but deceit and anger between them. What had it left her? Nothing but regret for an education lost.

Yes, she had won the fight with Jade. Had it been worth it? In the process, she had made her loved ones miserable. She had never thought it through. Selfishly, she had put her own goals ahead of everyone else's happiness Tears begin to fill her eyes. Her heart grows heavier with each step. "I'm sorry," she whispers.

The ghostly image of Jade begins to move away, deep into the chamber, and away from the pattern. A tear rolls down Lilly's cheek. As she moves off, the spectral figure beckons.

//I must follow her.//

//No. You must keep walking forward.//

//I must go. I must make this right.//

//You cannot make anything right, if you are no longer alive. Not with her, not with yourself. Continuing is the only way to ensure an opportunity for doing that.//

//Not true. They could be dead. I may have to die to find them.//

//If that is so, it will wait. It is not your time yet. Step forward. Keep going. They would want you to keep going. Mallet sacrificed so you could embrace your destiny. Do not let him down.//

//I cannot let Mallet down.//

Lilly forces herself to take the next step. As she does so, Mallet appears. He offers his full love and support. Taking her hand gently he leads her forward. Pain surges through her legs but she refuses to acknowledge it. A step forward. Then another. He is gone. She wipes the tears from her cheek and summons forth the shreds of her will.

There is barely time for a breath before the onslaught of images begins again. Since the return, Lilly had barely given thought to the war. Her blade had cut down countless men, women, and creatures. Their images haunt her now. Blood and bits of entrails cover twisted faces. Some are human. Others bare no resemblance to humanity. Many are enemies of Amber. Ending their lives had been a duty and a privilege. The pattern's is not enough to sear that belief from her. She propels herself past without regret.

More ghosts come at her. Ten soldiers she slaughtered; men from her own ranks. They had come under chaosian control. There had not been time to incapacitate them. Doing so might have been catastrophic. Her hand forced, she did what she believed best. In her dreams, she still doubts the decision.

Others join them. Deaths she caused. All had met their ends as a direct result of orders she gave. Loyally they followed only to meet a doomed fate. Somewhere in shadow, families might still cling to fruitless hope. The disappearance of their loved ones answered only by far too many questions.

The burden of guilt weighs heavily on Lilly. Each step becomes more exhausting then the last. Her motion slows as she fights to press forward.

//So many lost. And it was my fault. My fault. I commanded and I failed.//

//No. It was war. Many men died but many also returned.//

//Still, if I had been a better commander, if I had not been so young, so naive. More would have returned. More would have been saved. I never should have followed my father.//

//There were far too few commanders as it was. One less might have been devastating. You did your best. Yes, some were sacrificed. It was necessary. In war, the greater good must prevail. It was not simply the fate of the troops at stake, but the fate of reality.//

In her mind, Lilly begins to picture those she cares, her foster parents, her father, cousins, uncles and aunts. Had she not fought, they would be dead. All of them gone forever. The war and the crowning a new King had given reality a second chance. The reign of King Random had a difficult beginning. Now, he would need every able-bodied man and woman to lift Xanadu to her full glory. By aiding him, she could give meaning to the lives lost.

As before, aid appears. Beside Lilly is the smiling face of the King. Gently Random places a hand on her shoulder. She can feel heat surge through her body as he does so. Move, she tells herself. Move or become fuel for the raging fire that is the heart of reality. Beads of sweat crawl across her skin. The fingers on her should close in tighter, a reminder of his presence. Lilly lunges forward with all of her might and nearly falls as she breaks through the veil. Quickly she regains herself, ragged breath ringing in her ears.

One veil left, she tells herself. The end is almost near.

Before her now lay now faces, but images...

The once great city of Amber as it falls into ruin. People flee in terror. Fires erupt all about. The great mountain of Kolvir shakes with fury and begins to break apart.

Then there is calm. Two people, a man and a woman, sit across from one another on woven mats. Before them a simple pot of tea. As they drink, they share joy and laughter. Lilly begins to soak in the pleasant atmosphere, using it for aid. Then the pair turns. The man is her father. His far arm is gone beneath the elbow. This is not a mere image of the past. The woman bares many of her own features. It is her mother.

Anger rises. Here is the woman that had scorned her and left her to die. Yet, there her father sat. How dare he, she thought. Instinctively she reached for her sword. Just as she was about to move towards the woman, she sees it. A picture held in her hand. A tear rolls down the woman's face.

Garrett's words come rushing back to her. Perhaps she had cared. Perhaps she had no choice. Perhaps she had done her best. If she strikes out now, the answers will never be known. She must continue.

The next step does not come easier. There is no aid. She is barely moving. The pattern is not through with her yet.

Again, there is war. A green place spattered with blood. It covers her hands. A sense of great loss fills her, though it source remains a mystery.

A woman weeps. She wears a green cloak does not completely hide the long waves of red hair. The sound fills her with anguish.

Everywhere she looks, she sees pain and despair. There is hardly reason to continue. If this is the future, she scarcely wishes to embrace it. Welcoming a quick death seems a far wiser choice. Her body begins to still.

//No, there is a reason to continue. There are always reasons to continue.//

//Continue? Why? So that I can spend eternity of suffering? So that I can Live to be tormented by the things I cannot change, things I cannot control? It would be so much easier to allow the pattern to consume me.

//Of course, it would be easier. Running away is always easier. However, you are a fighter. By fighting, by continuing, you may discover joy as well.//

//I cannot do this. I cannot continue on.//

//Yes, you can. You are strong. You must hold onto your strength.//

Lilly clutches her fists and feels the presence of the ring. Despite the heat building around her, it is cool. A single word forms on her lips, "Garrett."

At the center of the pattern, she sees a figure. He is smiling at her. At first, she believes it to be Garrett. Then she realizes it is not. He has the same stance, the same grin but the eyes, the eyes are dark, almond shaped. She stares, almost forgetting to move before a sharp pain in her feet reminds her otherwise.

"Take my hand," the boy says tenderly.

There is a moment of hesitation. A child? Was she ready for that? The answer of course is no, not now. Maybe someday, in the future. Yet, she knows that the only way to ensure the future will arrive is by surviving the present. There is no more time for contemplation. Reach forward or greet the inferno, those were the only options. With her last ounce of strength, she thrusts her hand thrusts towards him.

As she staggers into the center, Exhaustion takes its toll. Lilly falls to her knees. There is no sense of accomplishment. That will come later. Right now, she is simply grateful for surviving. Weakly she looks up. Seeing her relatives around the perimeter, she manages a meek wave.

Celina weeps unknowing and waves back to the distant slim shadow in red light.

Gaining her breath, Lilly knows it is time for another decision. More then anything, she wants to be with Garrett. The problem, of course, is in finding him. Allowing the pattern to send her to him without being able to picture his exact location might prove to be a fatal mistake. She will simply have to settle for returning to her rooms.

With a final nod to those assembled, Lilly is gone.

Lilly reaches the center and the glow brightens almost enough to make out the features of the room, but not very well. After the girl disappears and the room darkens again, Benedict reaches into his shirt and pulls out a deck of familiar cards. "Would you mind shuffling the castle trump to the top for me? I need to make a visit to Amber. You can come along if you'd like a quick way back."

"Certainly," says Lucas obligingly, taking the cards and beginning to sort them with the ease of someone who whiled away a couple of rather profitable decades as a gambler on the Mississippi. He doesn't appear to study the cards at all - a gentleman doesn't - or at least, only enough to find the Castle trump. But the skills that won the Saucy Sue (a rather nice paddle steamer) from Mad Dog McCluskey? might ensure that he has some idea of which cards Benedict holds in his pack.

If he finds it strange that Benedict has appeared so suddenly when he was previously proving so elusive, and is now bent on heading off without even stopping to greet the King, Lucas does not show it.

"I'd be delighted to accompany you," he says as he sorts the cards. "As long as I can return here in time from the King's formal court tomorrow, and I don't think that should be too much of a problem."

He holds out the trump pack to Benedict, the Castle trump now on top.

"I doubt," he adds, "that anyone will even notice I've gone."

For a moment, Lilly is completely disoriented. She shut her eyes tight allowing them to adjust to the changes in light before venturing a look around. Opening them, she smiles. Her rooms. For the first time since leaving the Tecys she felt at home.

Standing there, she eyes a chair in the sitting room. It is deeply upholstered in a deep garnet red. Earlier she had tried it out and found it to be even more comfortable then it looked. Lilly takes a single step in its direction before realizing that giving into the temptation would be unwise. What she really needs right now is her bed.

She shuffles through the sitting room. Early she had been memorized by the intricate designs that were carved directly into the stone walls. Now she barely notices anything. Moving into the bedroom, the decor continues. Beautiful shades of red and ivory accented in bright gold tantalize against walls that were streaked in shades in grey. Again it is if she does not see a thing.

Lilly does have the presence of mind to attempt to remove her sword. Panic erupts as she realizes it is not there. Then she remembers. Martin. Garrett. It will be safe. With that she climbs beneath silken bed covers and takes a deep breath. I hope someone knows where this room is, she thinks vaguely before falling into a deep slumber.

(Though she had planned for a nice room near the front of the castle with a good view, it was the interior that called to her. After wandering a bit, she found herself deep within the mountain. The rooms are well lit, thanks to the electric light but there are no windows. Also, her rooms are not as perfectly shaped as most. It really does seem like something carved them directly from the stone.)