Receiving Room Reunion

There is a moment before Caine accepts the contact from Solange, after which he accepts it fully. "Solange. What is it?"

"Uncle Julian is here in Amber. Martin requests your presence," she replies succinctly, extending her hand.

Caine draws in a breath, and his eyes widen. "Bleys!" he says to someone outside Solange's field of vision. "Julian's here!" He takes Solange's hand and at the same time takes Bleys', and both of them are in the contact, then they're in the room.

Meanwhile, Julian's trump contact seems to have been successful. "Jovian," he says, by way of greeting. "Your brother is dead. Come through." He extends a hand, as if to draw Jovian through.

There's suddenly a lot of Trumpy-style appearances happening, and it's evident that Robin is not all that happy about it. Her brow furrows and her eyes are starting to move around the growing crowd suspiciously. She's not mantling yet, but there's a definite fluff to her feathers.

Suddenly Jovian is standing in the room, too. Julian thrusts the trump in his belt, stroking Robin's hair with his free hand. He looks up to see the suddenly-crowded room and says in a voice as harsh as a hawk's cry, "Clear this room so I may speak with my children."

Martin steps up between Julian and his children on one side and Brennan and Solange and the other recent arrivals on the other. "I'm afraid I can't do that," he says, without a trace of apology in his voice. "Not until I have your word that you will remain in the castle until you have the King's leave to depart."

With respect and regret, Brennan follows Martin's lead rather than Julian's command. He wears the casual wariness of a man who doesn't really expect trouble... but just can't afford to take the chance.

In the midst of all the Trump-flashes, he's quietly moved to a position where he can step in front of Fiona, if need be. He remains there.

Bleys falls in with him, his stance casual, but Brennan doesn't doubt Werewindle would be out in a flash if anything went wrong. Behind the two redheaded men, Robin and Jovian can see Fiona, perhaps the slightest trifle amused by all the masculine posturing. Then her gaze falls on Julian again, and her expression softens.

Solange stands where she is, tacitly offering support for Martin's position, her expression carefully neutral.

Caine stays with Solange.

Bleys! It's only her father's hand in her hair that keeps Robin from hissing as the Prince Trumps into the room. But her eyes narrow despite herself.

Tearing her glare away, Robin greets her brother with eyes that are red-rimmed and green burning. There's too many of them in here. Even with the hush where her hearing should be, there's too many. Can't they feel the cheese-cloth world straining beneath their feet? Soon the walls will tumble and, and, and....

The Ranger swallows. And forces herself not to step into a flanking position beside and behind Julian. Not to keep her hands loose near her weapons. Not to mantle. But she's just waiting for the fight or flight command from her father.

[No post from Mark, so no reaction from Jovian]

[Quite right. In front of all these others, he is as motionless and impassive as if he were carved of stone.]

Julian looks at the suddenly impressive array of family behind Martin and his eyes narrow slightly. "You have my word that I will speak with Random ere I leave. I assume you will be contacting him at once, nephew?"

Now that he's gotten his way, Martin is all easy grace. "As soon as I can brief him on what my aunt and my uncles have learned, I will do so. In the meantime, the Crown extends its condolences on your loss." He turns, affording himself a good look at both camps. "Let us withdraw," he suggests to the redheads and Caine and Solange, "and let our kin mourn in privacy." And he moves toward the door.

As they file out of the room, Bleys, Fiona, and Caine all stop to murmur quiet words of condolence to Julian.

As they pass close by, they may notice a certain tension in Jovian's jaw, a hard containment to his expression about the eyes. If the elders direct a look or word his way, he acknowledges with the barest nod - the most perceptive may realize that thus far, he does not trust himself to react further.

Before Brennan leaves, he aims for a moment of eye contact with Jovian. There's no point in saying anything, but Brennan does nothing to disguise his own sympathy or even his grief from Jovian.

Solange slips into file behind her aunt and uncles, waiting her turn. When it comes, she snaps to attention in front of Uncle Julian.

"Sir, I was an eye witness to the events. Please feel free to contact me if you require further...elaboration. My condolences to all of you on your loss." Solange is crisp, all business, falling back on her Ranger training.

"Thank you. I shall speak with you later," Julian replies.

She nods somberly to Julian and her two cousins, then follows the others through the door. Once past the doorway, she steps off to the side, sighs deeply, and finishes off her drink.

Brennan leaves as well, staying relatively close to the Elder Readheads in the crowd.

One by one as the others leave, Robin's tension settles away. She returns Solange's nod with a gentle incline of her own head, but is still too... well, freaked to do much more.

Once the door is closed, the girl draws a deep shuddering breath. Too close, way too close! She has got to find a way to deal. But not right now. Right now, things are needing to get done. The Ranger turns her eyes toward her father.

Julian, meanwhile, turns his attention to Jovian. "The Dragon assaulted the Castle by means of possession, and spread its taint among the servants. The goal was presumably to remove Paige's children to Arcadia. Adonis interfered and Dragon possessed him instead. Adonis regained control of himself and immolated himself," he says, not sparing his son the details.

Jovian winces, his eyes tightly shut, but holds silent.

"As you heard, Solange was a witness. Robin and I encountered what I now suspect was psychic backlash from the incident in Arden. I sent her to investigate and she learned the details and called me to the Castle. We then contacted you."

The rote repetition of the story seems to have given Julian time to master his temper.

"He got what he wanted," Jovian murmurs, shaking his head slowly, looking down. "But not the way he expected it. I suppose I own a piece of this," he adds, meeting his father's eyes. "Some of the things I said to him...probably prodded him up the mountain."

His expression, now that he's letting it show, is stricken - but a resigned calm is already taking hold.

Robin shakes her head, gently! as she speaks to the floor. "No.... no. No one should borrow any guilt for this. Daeon was an adult. His choice. Better to honor that choice than live in 'would-have, could-have, should-have.'"

She presses her lips together, remembering that the last time she said something like that she was told that she was being naive and didn't understand. That still might be true, but... there are trainwrecks ahead.

Julian strokes Robin's arm lightly as he responds to Jovian. "It doesn't matter now what we did or didn't do. Robin is right--as little as we would have it so, your brother chose this in the end. If I had urged him to take the Pattern more strongly, perhaps he would have lived, and his children been taken. Or perhaps he would have perished in flames as Mirelle did. We cannot know." He takes in a long breath, lets it out. "All we can do now is move forward."

Julian's eyes come to rest on Robin. He looks at her for a long moment, and both Jovian and Robin can see him come to a decision. "I have a new task for you, Robin. If we are to destroy the dragon before it kills another of our kin, we must be better prepared. The methods I have tried in the past have failed me. You must leave Arden, and find out how the dragon may be slain."

A deep frown pulls at the girl's lips but Robin nods her acceptance. She knows she hasn't been able to keep her eyes on the prize in Arden, what with all the Goddess-cousins talking so politely and brothers pleading for their children and stuff. And ever since she asked her father to stand by his side when his children fought one another, she's suspected that she might not be the one to fight this war. No matter how she wanted or didn't want to.

But the Dragon? Robin's eyes narrow. She's pretty sure she can keep her hate pure in that direction.

"Do you have a vector, sir? Or at least a no-go synopsis?" Something - anything - to do, instead of wailing about Daeon.

Jovian holds himself taut, taking in what Robin and his father have said without real reaction. Processing all this is for another time - Julian's focus on forward action lets his son retain his own. He seems for a moment about to add something, but with Julian's warnings ringing in his ears, the dragonrider waits.

Julian looks deep into Robin's eyes. "I had thought--as we discussed--that you might start with the priestesses of the Isles, and go from there wherever your discoveries lead you."

Robin's eyes fly open in surprise and, despite the horrible, horrible day, a flare of joy shoots skyward therein. Vere!

Then the avalanche of thought hits the girl square in the forehead. Is her father trying to get her out of Arden? To protect her? Or to shield her from something final he intends? Can poor Gerard and Vere's homeland take anymore of her heavy wingbeats? Mother's ghost? Gulls for priestesses, upsetting an ancient order just cause Robin can be snotty about things? The Dragons are in Danu too! And she's missed Canareth. But will Arden still be there when she gets back? After Danu, what? Corwin?!? Ick-ptui!

About there, Robin decides she's had enough thinking. With a fierce ruffle and a quiet self-annoyed squawk, the girl shakes herself and nods to her father.

"Yessir."

The corner of Julian's mouth quirks up, and he looks, if not happy, satisfied.

"Dad..." Jovian starts, not without discomfort - but this time it's discomfort for Julian, not for himself. His own reactions are locked in, put firmly in a quiet corner by the Warden's own forward thinking. "While Robin's about that, well...the way things are going in the Isles, I have some downtime. I could contact Reid and see if his father told him anything of use from Finndo's time as Warden. And, I suppose--" He shrugs, as if it's no big deal either way. "I could contact Corwin as well, if you'll lend me your Trump of him."

Julian fishes out his card deck and shuffles Corwin's card to the top, passing it to Jovian. "The role of dragonslayer is one for which Corwin is neither interested nor fit. But he may have some useful insights to offer amidst tales of his exploits. Reid will probably be more forthcoming, but his information is likely to be second-hand."

Jovian takes the card and closes his eyes briefly. "I need to get back to Canareth, Dad. He'll be worried."

"Of course," Julian replies, only the faintest of lines around the edges of his mouth betraying the loss that marks a dragonless man when he speaks of dragons. "Clear skies."

Jovian sways slightly. "It's like being drunk, with none of the upside." He looks at Robin and smiles. "I'll tell Vere you're coming."

"Thank you, Jove." Robin manages a smile back to her hero brother.

Suddenly the girl throws herself on Jovian, squeezing him tightly, despite the pain. Tears leak out of her eyes once more as she whispers in his ear, "Don't hold it in too long, braveheart. It'll kill you if you do."

With a pat on the arm, she steps back to let her brother go.

Jovian turns and heads out of the room and off towards the trump booth. When the door closes behind him, Julian turns his attention back to Robin. "Sit," he tells her, and does so himself, sprawling gracefully as if he were in a chair in his command tent in Arden.

Robin drops to the floor once more in a comfortable crouch, listening to her commander as she has for decades.

"There is so much--the family will want a service, and there should be one, but there's the slight matter of a war, one which I must plan without you for the nonce. And I must see to Brita, who took wounds trying to save Adonis' life. I cannot be sorry that Jovian will speak to Corwin; even if I loved him best of my brothers, it would be one less task only I could do."

Before Robin can object, Julian puts up a hand. "I will not reconsider sending you. There are legends of dragons in the Isles--old, old legends--and there is truth behind them. I need the truth from the priestesses, if they have it, and they will never give it to a mere man, god or no. Only a daughter of the line can weasel it out of them. It must be you."

Weasel? Robin's brow goes up. She's more likely to use a beat it out of them with a brick. However, given what Vere has said and Siege's behavior, she understands the titted angle of the thing.

Dung. Another talkin' job. Robin blows a fluff of breath out that lifts her bangs slightly. Maybe she can get some weasel hints from Vere.

"Think Floaty Moon-lady is involved? First time I saw her was in Danu. Then... well, maaayyybeee I saw her again in Arcadia."

Julian frowns. "I don't know. There are legends that connect damsels and dragons, but I don't know what legend that woman lies behind, if any. Tell me what you saw, and under what circumstances, and I will tell you what I think."

"I'm not sure it's relevant, sir. But it's in the mix and I thought you should know." Robin remembers to not shake her head this time.

"Back in Danu, shortly after Jove and I met up, we were holed up in the caves and this woman appeared in the moonlit sky." Robin proceeds to give another of her law-enforcement style descriptions of the apparition. "She was looking off into the night and didn't react to any of us. But there was this sense of... longing? Searching from great distance? Something like that. Me and Jove saw her. A native Danaan saw her. The mammalian Calusans saw her. The draconian Calusans did not see her." A wry tick snags the side of the Ranger's mouth at that.

"When I hucked a stone at her, it flew right through her right shoulder. No reaction. Thing disappeared when a bank of clouds drifted across the moon. No more excitement that night.

"Later, in Arcadia, in the caves where you and Adonis met up with me... I'll admit I was tuckered sir. But I didn't think I was fallin'-asleep-on-watch tired. Anyway, it was moonlit before... it should have been. There were two kids - feral types" Robin describes the pair, "stalkin' the same floaty moon-woman out on the green. I came out to play, hopin' for a snag on the kids." Okay, not a terribly bright idea, but one takes one's shot when one can get it.

"Floaty moon-woman zoned in on the girl. Held her pinned in her gaze. Me and the boy stalked around one another and floaty moon-woman while she was occupied. I... got too close? Next thing I know, moon-woman's got me in a big dark-eyed enveloping soul-searching thing."

A pause.

"Then Rain's shakin' my shoulder letting me know you've been spotted. And it's all gone."

Robin finishes with a shrug. She's not sure what to make of the whole thing.

Julian shakes his head. "I don't know what to make of that, Robin. Let me think on it, and we can consult someone who might know more about this woman. In Amber, that would be your kinswoman Cambina. In the Isles, you would speak with the Lady, or someone she recommends. The children you saw--if they are the ones you may have suspected, I will deal with myself," he reassures her.

"Thanks, Dad." Robin breathes out in relief as she stands. She's been worrying about her brother and sister ever since that... vision? experience?... despite her flippant names.

"Please let me know if there's anything I can do to help there. I... since this..." Robin gestures haplessly towards the hall. "I'm really worried about them."

"I am as well. I can barely imagine what their mother is making of them. When I return to Arden, they must be my first task." Julian frowns. "Also I must look to Adonis' surviving children, particularly those who have served me as Rangers. Most of them have been removed to safety, such as it is, here. Now we know that this castle is not protected, I must find a better shelter for them."

"Yeah." Robin sighs. "Iiiiii really should check in on Breeze. Solange said he'd been injured."

The Ranger rubs and smears at her face and hair a bit before turning toward the door. The door beyond which stretch the halls and halls and halls of Amber Castle. She sighs and a resigned slump comes to her shoulders.

"Dad? Do you know the way to the infirmary?" Verde, she hates this maze.

"I will walk with you," Julian says, rising and offering Robin a hand up from the floor. "I should look in on the boy as well."

"Thanks." Robin says as she accepts her father's hand. The Ranger is still slightly off-balance but it seems to be getting better.

When the last of the departing family members has left the room where Julian and his children remain behind, Martin closes the hall door behind them and moves off a little ways. "We can take this up to the library," he tells the group, "or we can do it here."

Fiona is first to reply, saying, "I haven't quite finished what I was doing, so I would prefer to report my findings to the Crown and complete my work." Her smile is sweet, but the steel in her voice makes it clear it's not quite a request. Bleys puts a hand on her arm for a moment and she looks at him, some unspoken redheaded communication passing between them before she returns her gaze to Martin.

Apparently unimpressed, Martin nods. "Of course. Please go ahead." If he means _I wouldn't dream of delaying you_, he certainly doesn't say so.

Fiona takes on a lecturing tone. "The thing that attacked the Castle had a significant astral presence. It came in with one person, took the servants when it killed them, and infected Paige's twins somehow. The power was directed, because we could see it moving to Adonis when we reviewed the incident afterward. I think there may have been other infected people in the castle." She glances at Bleys again. "I am certain the influence was broken when Adonis sacrificed himself. Merlin and I have scoured the room of any remaining power and burned the bodies, as Corwin told us to do with incursions from the depth of Arden in the old days." Another glance at Bleys, who nods this time. "To me, it seemed like there was a--disordered taint, let us say--to the energies."

A growing horror infuses Martin's expression as Fiona tells her tale. "You mean it tried to affinate Adonis and the kids?"

Brennan's eyebrows go up at this, too. It evidently goes a long way to confirming a suspicion he'd had.

"Something very like it," Fiona opines. "Perhaps closer to mechanical possession, with suppression of personality rather than cooptation."

"Suppression of personality fits with what I witnessed," Solange comments. She looks at Fiona. "Do you have any idea whether, once possessed in such a way, there exists some metaphysical connection from the attacker to the possessed person, making a subsequent attack easier?"

"The possession may have been a means to get them back to a location where they could be eaten," Brennan points out softly. "If they're not Adepts or Sorcerers, they're pretty limited in their mobility. So we've got that going for us," he finishes sourly. He shoots Martin a look, betting that he's wrestling with the same hypothetical decision as Brennan is.

Martin meets Brennan's gaze. His expression hasn't changed much, but his eyes are haunted. Whatever's on his mind is at least as unpleasant as the dilemma Brennan is considering.

"To answer that question definitely, I'd need to examine the children," Fiona replies. "But I would hope that their reality would serve as some protection. Those not of our blood are probably more vulnerable to ... reinfection."

"Christ. How do we fight that?" Martin asks, only half rhetorically.

"My blade is at the Crown's service," Bleys answers, deadpan. "But I do not plan to lend it out to brother Julian."

Caine smiles at the jest, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "The Guard has been informed of the attack, and is prepared for any physical sorties. If there are any magical preparations that can be made, I suggest we make them. Is there anything besides the sword that might be useful?" he asks Fiona.

"Are you ready to assay a repair of the broken wardstone of this castle?" Fiona asks coolly.

Caine answers, "Ahhhh, no."

"Then not at this time," Fiona dismisses him.

"Thank you for your reports," Martin says firmly, cutting off whatever retort Caine might have been about to make. "I'll be sure to report all your good counsel to the king. Is there anything else?" He pauses to look at the group before taking his leave.

"Are Paige's children safe in Xanadu?" Solange asks. "There's a viable Pattern and distance in their favor. Will that be enough?"

Martin looks at Fiona and Bleys to field that question. Fiona takes it. "There's not enough data to do anything other than speculate." She looks up at Bleys and says, "I'm sorry."

Solange shuffles her stance, her expression troubled, and asks another question. "Adonis sacrificed himself to break the influence of the attacking entity on the other people there in the room. Did he just break the current influence, or do you think he actually harmed the attacking entity?" Although the question is perhaps academic, the answer to the question is apparently important to her.

"If there's not enough information to answer your first question, niece, I'm afraid there's not enough to answer that one either," Bleys replies. "We can only hope."

When that plays out, Brennan also has one more thing: "Jovian and I had speculated some time ago that the Beast of Arcadia was in fact a Lord of Chaos. What Fiona says goes a long way to confirming that in my mind. It's not the only draconic form I've seen associated with the Courts, either." He turns to face his Elders. "For instance, that which bore Grandfather's casket away from the Funeral."

Caine, who has merely been listening to the redheads' speculation all this time, nods now.

"I don't think it's exactly a Lord of Chaos," Fiona says. "But I don't think it's exactly not one, either. An intermediate form, perhaps. I'll have to consult with my Master, who has forgotten more about Chaos than any of us will ever know." She looks around at Martin, Caine, and Solange. "And now I shall return to my investigations."

She heads off down the hall. Bleys smiles at them and heads off in her wake.

[Presumably Brennan follows. New thread.]

"On that note, I'll also take my leave. I'll be at the Naval if you need me, discussing resources for Random's little moving expedition with the officers." And Caine takes his leave with a pleasant nod at Solange, leaving Martin and Solange alone.

In the hall, [Lucas] encounters Cambina, who has Merlin in tow. "Lucas. How fortunate it is that I found you. Martin asked me to start trumping family members who aren't in Amber or Xanadu to let everyone know what's happened. If you're not doing anything right now, I could use your help. Corwin, Llewella, Jerod, Ossian, Reid, and Marius need to be told, and maybe some others. Vere is with Jovian, so he should find out when Jovian does. Martin said you'd taken his trump of your mother, so I guess you've talked to her?"

Merlin merely nods in greeting while Cambina is talking.

"Yes, I have," agrees Lucas. "She's out of Paris at the moment, so Corwin still needs to be informed. She'll probably alert him, but I'm sure he'll want more details." He nods back in greeting at Corwin's son. "Who would you like me to start with?"

Lucas, after all, has a good telephone manner. Long ago, in other Shadows, a couple of times he worked the phone lines at disaster telethons and found himself to be highly expeditious at raising money. He also found it a pretty much unparalleled way of getting dates.

"I'm going to try my brother, and I'm sure Merlin will want to talk to his father. Why don't you try Ossian or Reid?" Cambina suggests. "Unless you'd rather talk to Llewella?"

Merlin cuts that line of discussion off. "We know where Llewella is, do we not? I would think Ossian and Reid, who are in Shadow, would be at greater risk if there is danger. We should inform them first."

"Certainly," says Lucas obligingly. "Do you have either of their trumps to hand?"

"They should be in the trump booth," Cambina says. "Merlin was making a card for my brother for it."

"But if you would rather not trouble yourself to go there, I have both Ossian's and Reid's trumps in my case." Merlin pulls out the box in which he carries his trumps for emphasis.

"Thank you," says Lucas. "But let's repair ro somewhere where we can do this in comfort. My own rooms are somewhat in dis-order ... "

He'll be happy to go to the library or whatever sitting room the others suggest.

Merlin takes them back to his quarters, where the trump sketch of Jerod is.

Once settled, he accepts the trump cards offered by Merlin and attempts to make contact - Ossian first.

He is able to contact neither Ossian nor Reid.

Merlin is still speaking softly to Corwin when Lucas finishes his attempts to contact his cousins.

He sets the trumps down carefully, then reclines back in his chair, and glances at Cambina - at least partly on the grounds that Lucas would never do anything so déclassé as to listen in on someone else's conversation.

Cambina is prowling restlessly. When Lucas looks up, she says, "Jerod isn't answering either. I know he's probably just asleep, but a girl does worry." She shrugs, and changes the subject. "What are your plans now? You're moving the children, I imagine."

"Yes," says Lucas. "For the time being, until things crystallise, my mother will be taking them into her charge. To be in the happy position of having an Amberite of her generation doting on one is a rare occurrence. My children should exploit it before the charm of grandmotherly coo-ing wears off, I feel. In my own relationship with my mother, I am uncertain whether her unalloyed joy in my existence wore off with her first bout of morning sickness, or when she first saw the bathroom scales record those extra pounds that represented the nascent spark that was one day to shine so brightly as moi. At all events, I never recovered the unconditional adoration that was lost at that early stage. Hope and Phillippe should savour it while they can."

"I wouldn't know about cooing grandparents," Cambina says, and smiles, a bit acidly. "Will you be sending Solace with them? That would seem to militate against your mother cooing at the children."

"That will be be for Solace to decide," says Lucas. His tone is relaxed, and perfectly courteous, but there is also a finality in it.

Cambina nods, as if the disposition of her putative sister is of no moment.

"Has anyone gone down to the city yet? I imagine tocsins wildly sounding in the castle might have caused some disturbance down below."

Cambina shakes her head. "I don't think so. I know Martin meant to have someone talk to the servants. Someone will have to go down to speak to Sir Archer, I suppose. Probably me."

He reaches out towards Ossian's card again. "One last try, perhaps. I never take calls when I'm pointing Percy at the porcelain myself, and I've always found it a nuisance that trumps don't give you the option of checking to see who was your last contact."

Lucas takes up the trump and tries it, still to no effect. When he looks back up at Cambina, she shrugs. "I don't know what the time differential where they are is. Maybe we'll have better luck in an hour or two." She conspicuously does not look at the sketch of her brother.

"Are you planning to head back to Xanadu next? If you stay, Martin will put you to work, or Caine will."

"If someone offers me a ride. I'll go to Xanadu," says Lucas, spreading his hands wide. "I don't know whether anyone in Xanadu has thought to notify Soplace that the children were in danger or, more happily, that they are in fact safe. Then ... well. She'll want to come here to be with them. And as there is presumably going to be some sort of Memorial Service in Amber, we may as well stay here and make ourselves useful. After that ... the children will be leaving. And Solace if she chooses." He shrugs.

Cambina nods. "I don't think there are any trumps of Xanadu yet. I have cards of our uncles. Do you know who's left there? Random, I suppose. Maybe Gerard? I can contact one of them and send you through." She draws out her deck and begins shuffling out cards.

"Gerard was certainly there and, I suspect, will be for some time," says Lucas. "He would probably be a better contact than the King who will probably believe - with some justice - that he has more pressing affairs on his plate than assisting me with my domestic arrangements."

"I'll contact him, then," Cambina says. She selects his trump and concentrates on it. "It's Cambina, Uncle. Lucas is with me. May I send him through?" After a moment, she reaches out to Lucas and hands him through.

Bleys and Fiona are silent, perhaps by agreement or perhaps because they're lost in thought, as they depart the familial conclave. Fiona waits until the redheaded trio is out of the sight and hearing of the rest of the family to stop and ask Brennan, "Now, what about your brother?"

By way of answer, Brennan hands Fiona the note from Ambrose that he'd tucked into a convenient pocket. If she chooses to hand it over to Bleys, he will not object as long as he gets it back later.

Fiona skims the note, nods, and hands it to Bleys.

While Fiona is reading, Brennan looks over to Bleys and says, "They were all fine, the last I saw them. Physically, anyway. I checked Leif myself." He pauses. "I don't think we'll let this go unanswered."

"We won't," Bleys says, taking the note from Fiona and perusing it himself.

If Brennan's word were a knife thrust, someone would be bleeding from the gut: "Good."

When Fiona finishes reading, he says, "Loathe though I am to leave, now is probably not the best time to ask for help contacting Brother Ambrose. But if things are peaceful in Uxmal, I'd like to bring him to see Random. I have no quick means back to Xanadu. Is there a Trump of his I might borrow?"

Bleys hands the note back to Brennan. "You really need a deck of your own. You should ask Random about that," he tells his nephew. Fiona raises her eyebrows at Bleys. He looks down at her and shrugs, pulling out his deck and shuffling out a card. "I really do need this back as soon as possible. While another short-term emergency is unlikely, it could happen, and Random is one of the people I would need to contact." Nevertheless, he offers the card to Brennan.

"If I'm gone longer than a day, something has gone wrong with the plan. If I miss the memorial service, I'm in trouble," Brennan says. He takes the Trump from Bleys' hand with his left with gratitude, but clasps Bleys' forearm with his right: "When I return, you and Julian will let me know how I can help. Those children are not--" he grinds his teeth for a moment, then changes the trajectory of his sentence, "--pawns, to be used in their ignorance."

"I have an idea or two myself," Bleys replies, returning the clasp. "But that can wait. We'll discuss it in a day or two, after you've returned and we've memorialized our dead."

"Will you need the Veil Parted as well?" Fiona asks, measuring Brennan as he takes the trump from Bleys.

Brennan considers that, his fingers twitching briefly as though he were about to attempt that process himself, then deciding against it. "Nnnno," he says at length. "Let's consider it a spur to my self development. If need be, I can watch Brita perform it a few times as well."

Fiona nods, her catlike green eyes glittering.

He looks at Fiona. "She has talent, you know. What she lacks is philosophy and focus... but she's young. I've set out a course of exercises that emphasize finesse over brute force. She should be able to practice them even now. And she is her mother's daughter, that way-- she definitely has talent."

"Flatterer," Bleys says drily, but he makes it sound like a compliment.

His face brightens. "Besides, I already have a Trump of Uxmal." And so saying, he places Bleys' image of Random into his deck, and removes his own of Uxmal. Absent any other pressing needs, he departs through it, seeking Ambrose by the most efficient means.