Tritonian Research

As soon as the meeting is finished Ossian will go to Vialle, and then to the library, looking for maps of both Amber and Rebma.

Ossian leads Conner to Vialle's room, where he knocks for admittance.

Lucas is keeping Vialle company after dinner. Solace has retired early, saying that she's quite exhausted, and encouraged Lucas to stay and keep Vialle company.

When the knock on the door comes, Vialle excuses herself and answers it.

"Ossian?" she says, "Who is with you?"

"Greetings, Lady." Conner says warmly. "Its Conner."

[Lucas]
"Well, that answers a good deal. I feel enlightened. Illuminated, even."

"Conner!" says Vialle, delighted, and brushes by Ossian to throw her arms around the other man for a moment. Then she recovers herself and says, "Come in, come in, both of you. Please, sit down."

There is a young man in Vialle's sitting room. [Whose player may wish to describe him, Jeremy. Olof and Rich may wish to describe their characters, too.]

[Lucas]
[Lucas is black haired, fair skinned, insouciant. He's androgynous in that sort of "he's not that attractive, but he works well with what he's got" sort of way. Despite the fact he's obviously dressed casually for a less formal meal, he still manages to look pull it off well. Yes, I spent my zero-point power on fashion.]

Ossian is a short and slender young man that looks more agile than strong. His somewhat unruly hair is a bit to long to stay out of his eyes, but too short to bind into a ponytail. He wears light blue pants and a loose white shirt. You probably notice the small splotches of paint on his hands.

"Lucas," she says to the young man, "this is Conner, who was one of the secretaries at the Amber embassy in Rebma when I was first married to Random. Conner, this is my husband's nephew, Lucas, the son of Princess Florimel."

[Lucas]
"You'll pardon me if I don't stand. I find that this slouch is far too enjoyable to interupt on account of mere pleasantries."

[Connor]
[Conner has deep auburn hair with fair skin. He has a offical air about him and a brilliant engaging smile, which is my zero point power. His is currently dressed in a casual version of a naval uniform.]

"I would not think of having you expend effort to greet me." Conner smiles at him.

She turns back to Conner. "I thought you were still in Rebma at the time of the Sundering, Conner. Where have you been these past few years?"

"I have been in Rebma all this time. Circumstances only recently led to my leaving Rebma." Conner replies. "And I have an update to my resume. I am Fiona's son."

Vialle looks confused for a moment, then accepts the surprise. "I suppose that makes you and Lucas and Ossian cousins, then. Come in, both of you, and let's hear about Conner's adventures in Rebma, and leaving. It must be a fantastic tale." She takes one of Conner's hands and one of Ossian's, and leads them, if they are willing, to chairs in the living room.

"Not hard to believe that we're cousins," Lucas chimes in with a dry smirk. "The royal family seems to breed like rats."

Conner takes her hand warmly and sinks into the chair.

"Conner, Ossian, would either of you like a drink?" She looks, blind-eyed, at Lucas. "Will you pour, Lucas?"

Vialle has a sideboard with port and claret. She and Lucas each have a glass, and there is a plate of cheese and fruit on the table as well. There's also a third glass, which has clearly only had a sip taken from it (originally Solace's).

"I'll take a glass of port." Conner smiles. "I do hope you are ready for a long story."

Lucas regards the bottle like a man regarding the journey of a thousand miles, then grudgingly leans forward and pours out two more glasses.

"Something lighter for me. You choose," Ossian says to Lucas. "If that's not too much work, of course."

Lucas puts some water in a wine glass for Ossian.

Ossian smiles: "Yeah, you are right cousin. We wouldn't appreciate the other drinks if we couldn't get water now and then."

After they are settled with their drinks, Conner tells his story once more, about the break in at Llewella's, his beating by the tattooed Tritons and his encounter with Montage. He relates his dinner with Thalia and her aduction and rescue, and finishes with the tale of the tunnel, the strange villiage and castle, and the sailing of the good ship Sprite into Amber's harbor.

((If the summary and request to look back in the list for the full story isn't enough, I'll go retell it in full.))

Vialle is quite interested in the story -- and concerned. "Someone is covering something up, Conner, and you were right to leave when you could. I wonder what they could have been looking for in Princess Llewella's house? And who exactly was Bend working for?"

"Bend is usually the Queen's errand girl," Conner replies. "The thought she might be working for another is disturbing." Conner muses for a moment then asks, "Who currently in Amber has knowledge of Trumps?"

Ossian smiles "I know a few things about them, for instance."

Conner turns to him. "How hard would it be to cut one in half?"

[OOC: The _player_ of course has no clue. GM's, please come to my aid!]

It depends on what you made the Trump out of. If you made it out of pasteboard (standard), yes, you could cut it.

I think of a sealed Trump as being about as durable as a standard playing card sealed in the shiny plasticy stuff -- more durable than plain paper, but able to be cut, burned, or melted, and not something you'd want to whip out in Rebma, either.

"Do you mean physically cutting the card into two pieces, or something more subtle?"

"I mean I found what looked like half a Trump card cut diagonally in Llewella's home." Conner replies.

[Ossian]
"Cutting it would be no problem. To keep it working after you've cut it, though, is quite another matter. Do you have the card?"

Conner shakes his head. "Left it there. It no longer had the cool feel of Trump. It was the top half of Oberon depicted on the card."

Vialle says, "How strange. I wonder what whoever broke into the house was looking for? I guess you still don't have any idea, do you, Conner? Do you think that someone might have realized who you were and been trying to draw you out?"

"It is a possiblity but I don't think it likely." Conner replies. "Its all pointless speculation without more investigation." Conner shrugs sipping his port. "I need more information on the Tritons and who controls them, and I doubt I'll find any of that in Amber though I plan to search anyway."

Ossian has been thinking for a few moments: "Except for that Trump, do you know if the Trumps still work in Rebma?"

Conner shrugs. "Never had the occasion to try."

Ossian raises an eyebrow: "That is a pity."

"There are some Rebmans here, of course, but most of them are tied up with the Embassy, and you wouldn't want to ask them," says Vialle. "It's unfortunate Jerod's not back from Bellum," and she looks unhappy at this, "but you could always ask Martin what he knows."

"That is certainly part of my plan." Conner nods. "Has Jerod been gone longer than you would like?" He asks wondering about the unhappy expression.

"Jerod and Solange, Prince Gerard's daughter, were due back from shoring up the Bellum shadowpath some time ago. We haven't heard anything, and we have no way to contact them," Vialle says, looking troubled. "I know Solange's Aunt Felicity is convinced people are vanishing, but Lucas or Ossian could tell you more about what the Council has to say on the matter."

Conner looks to the men. "I presume with resources stretched so thin no one has been sent after them, eh?"

"Yup. We need all shadow-walkers to feed the city. The _council_ has decided that the wellbeing of the citizens is more important than searching for Jerod and Solange." Ossian smiles with a somewhat sad expression. "And something strange is going on in the city. People eat less than we think they should, and there seems to be a leakage of gold out of the city."

"Most curious." Conner remarks. "I presume once I have settled in the Regent will set me to tasks as needed." He turns to Vialle. "Speaking of which Lady Vialle, I am told you are the one to see about arranging rooms for me in the castle."

"You'll have a guest room tonight, of course, but I'll arrange something in the family wing for you tomorrow. After hearing the story of your escape, I don't suppose you brought a lot of baggage with you, but if you have any preferences in your room arrangements, you should let me know."

The standard suite seems to have both public and private areas; Vialle has a lot of room in her suite, but she is the spouse of one of the uncles. [Ossian and Lucas could tell you she does have a large suite, but the brats' rooms are built on the same plan.]

"I like a large fireplace." Conner replies with a smile. "No other preferences."

"And here I was going to recommend a fish tank," Lucas comments, the first he's said since Conner began his tale.

"Spent five years in one, thanks." Conner smiles. "I'd like to deal with earth, wind and fire for a while."

"I hope you still like fish, cousin, cause they serve it often nowadays." Ossian says "In the current food situation fish is easier to get than meat."

"Extremely fresh seafood was one thing I liked about being stuck in Rebma." Coner smiles. "I shall make do."

"Well, you won't get it _extremely_ fresh here, I fear." Ossian grins childishly "If you don't keep a fish tank of course."

"I know." He sighs. "Still, even having meat once a month would be a treat after so long without." He smiles.

Vialle will assign Conner to a guest room with a fireplace for the night, at least.

Conner makes small talk for a while longer, filling Vialle in on any Rebman friends that they had in common. After that,

"Well I've had a tiring day and think I'll turn in. A pleasure to see you again, Lady." He smiles.

Ossian has remained, discussing the latest fashion trends with Lucas (If Lucas likes that topic...)

"See you tomorrow morning, Conner. I'll bring the maps."

Ossian lingers with Vialle for a few minutes after Conner has left:

"Seems there are new cousins hiding under every stone. I gather you have met Conner before. Who is he?"

"He was one of the secretaries with the Amber Embassy in Rebma," Vialle says. "He kept an eye on my husband for the Embassy when we were first married. Random liked him better than Ambassador Droit, of course, but I think he always worried a little that anything he said to a member of the embassy staff went straight to Eric's ears. I had no idea he was Fiona's son until tonight."

"He seems to have cleverly chosen the right time to declare himself. This is the time of auto-acknowledgement of royal siblings whether their parents like it or not. He seems nice enough, though. And we need his abilities gravely, like canvas needs paint."

"Well," says Vialle, "he could hardly have known that. If you'd been stuck in Rebma all this time, wouldn't you have tried to get back to Amber at once? What about you, Lucas?"

[Lucas]
"Knowing what I know now? I wouldn't be so sure."

"It is not like he declared himself as a son of Fiona immedeately when he came. He had plenty of time to think it through, I think." Ossian adds as an afterthought.

"On the other hand he would have had some problems explaining how he got here otherwise."

"What do you mean?" asks Vialle.

[Ossian]
"He told us he came here via some Shadow place that obviously isn't here. So he would have to Shadow-walk to get here."

"Oh," Vialle says. "Of course. I suppose it's natural for you to think of such things first."

"Well" Ossian says, smiling, "the more cousins, the better. We need every mind and hand."

After leaving his Father, Vere will go to the Library and begin researching Tritons. He and Nestor will go through all the histories of Rebma they can find (Vere takes this opportunity to complete his knowledge of Rebma's history as well); they will go through books detailing historical enemies of Amber and mythical and legendary beasts; and they will look through any records left by past visitors from Rebma, and well as any letters and reports from citizens of Amber who travelled to Rebma. This process will undoubtedly take several weeks, during this time Vere will continue with his duties at the harbour as well, and take occasional breaks to follow up certain other leads.

The first of these will be to go to Cambina, in her role as the Family's historian, and ask if she has any knowledge of the Tritons, or any suggestions on where such information can be found.

When Conner enters the Library the next day to make the same request, he seems not surprised at all to find Vere one step ahead of him. "Need any assistance or shall I just bug you for answers?" Conner smiles.

"Assistance in such a project is always of value," Vere replies. "Although I anticipate that the Regent will shortly be assigning you a variety of duties that may not leave you a great deal of spare time. We were stretched very thin with all the members of the Council here, and without everyone present things become that much more difficult."

"All the more reason to put two of us on the project as our time allows." Conner nods.

Vere regards Conner for a second, then continues, "What are your impressions of Amber so far? Other than the structural damage, do you find her in any way altered from the city that you left?"

Conner muses for a moment. "The feel of it is different. Part of that is just the social atmosphere but the rest seems to be a fundamental change in the place itself. The fact my Pattern powers work here is highly disturbing."

"Yes," says Vere, "That it is. There has been speculation among the Cousins that Amber no longer holds the same place among Shadow that it did before our Grandfather repaired or recreated the Pattern. What this actually means is a question that so far remains unanswered." Vere pauses for a second, then continues, "I am looking forward to your Mother's return. While I have never met her my understanding is that she is very knowledgeable about such things."

"I too wish to hear her opinions on this," Conner nods. "I was one of her star pupils but this puzzle requires the master I think. I would love to know what old Dworkin knows about this."

Vere lifts an eyebrow slightly. "The Trump artist?" he asks. "I take it from your statement that he is also knowledgeable in matters of the Pattern?"

"According to Mother, Dworkin is knowledgable about almost everything." Conner replies. "But getting straight answers from him can be like pulling teeth."

"Indeed?" Vere considers this for a moment. "Most interesting. I look forward to speaking with him. I have heard nothing of him remaining behind in Amber, but the impression I had of him was that he was too old to be expected to take active part in the war against Chaos. One is led to wonder where he might be."

"A very good question." Conner nods. "He tends to pop up when you least expect him, I'm told."

Vere raises an eyebrow questioningly.

"I mean that almost literally." Conner chuckles. "Many of Mother's stories about him start with him walking out of a wall or someplace equally improbable."

"How very interesting," says Vere. He considers this for a few seconds. "Why do I suspect there is a considerable mystery here?"

"Dworkin is a very mysterious fellow." Conner nods. "One of those straddling the line of genius and madness as I understand it."

Vere nods, then calls Nestor over. "Do we have anything in the Library written by Dworkin?" he asks.

"No," says Nestor. "Dworkin was not a published author, and he kept his own unpublished notes. I understand that the late King Eric had some of his notes, but I don't know why. Honestly, the man may have been a genius, but he made Ossian's friend Zephyr look stable. And he's been in retirement for, oh, some decades now."

He glances about and lowers his voice. "Actually, I've also heard that King Oberon may have had him imprisoned for his own safety. But I couldn't say for certain."

Vere smiles very slightly. "Let us hope that he was not imprisoned in any of the cells beneath the Castle," he says. "Otherwise his safety would be very much in question." He looks at Conner. "You might wish to bring up the subject of Dworkin when you talk with Martin," he says. "He was working closely with Oberon in the events leading up to the War, and if anyone has information on the man's whereabouts he is the most likely."

"It seems I have much to speak to him about then." Conner nods. "I am hoping he can shed light on some of Rebma's politics for me."

At this point Ossian enters the room (OOC: does the library consist of more than one room?), carrying a bunch of large paper rolls, which turn out to be maps of Amber and Rebma. He seems to be in a good mood.

"Hello cousins. Learning something new?"

"We have started on the road to knowledge." Conner smiles. "Time to play with maps I see."

"Maybe so." Ossian smiles back, "although I must say I am a bit curious of what you have learned."

"Mainly that the library has a Hell of a lot of books on Rebma and its going to take a while to read them all." Conner smiles. "Check back in a few days."

Vere smiles slightly and resumes reading.

[Ossian]
"Then I think we should have look at the maps before you get too immensed in the exciting world of history books."

Folly sends Sandra an invitation:

***

Dear Sandra --

Ossian tells me you are interested in learning to write songs. I've got a little knowledge in that area myself. Would you care to join me for tea tomorrow in the Castle to talk about it?

Folly

***

Folly arranges for tea in a small sitting room near the library, in case they need a piano.

Sandra accepts the invitation and shows up dressed in what Folly might think of as "Sunday-go-to-meeting" clothes. She's pleased, excited, and kind of nervous when escorted in to see Folly. It may occur to Folly that Sandra perceives this as something of a command performance.

"Lady Folly," she says, and curtseys.

"Welcome, Sandra," Folly says warmly, doing her best to put Sandra at ease. "I'm so glad you could make it. Please, make yourself comfortable." She gestures to a pair of comfortable chairs and a small table set with tea, scones, and little sandwiches.

Once they are settled and the tea is poured, Folly grins and says, "I confess, Sandra, that teaching songwriting will be something of an experiment for me. I know how to write, and I know how to teach, but I've never tried to teach writing before, so if I sound like I'm making stuff up as I go along, I probably am. I do hope you get something out of it, though; it's time this city figured out that there's more to quality music than just Rein versus Barenthkov."

Folly nibbles thoughtfully at a scone for a moment, and then says, "Perhaps we should start with your musical background. What first drew you to music, how did your training begin, and did you always know you wanted to be a singer?"

Sandra tells her story, which is something of a Lana-Turner-at-Schwab's tale in which Barenthkov heard her singing as she put the the wash out to dry near her parents' dockside home. Her parents are poor; her father is retired from the sea, and her mother takes in laundry to make ends meet.

What formal musical training Sandra has comes from Barenthkov. She is more comfortable in the older idiom simply because that's what she has always been exposed to: sea shanties, folk songs and the like. She has no instrumental training, and while Barenthkov has taught her vocal technique, he has never taught Sandra to read music.

Of course, since she can't read Thari either, musical illiteracy was never a shortcoming, until now.

Folly points out that while reading music is a useful tool, it's certainly not a requirement for creating new songs. Sandra does get the feeling, though, that Folly thinks Barenthkov is remiss in not giving Sandra more extensive training.

Sandra is embarrassed by her illiteracy and by what she clearly feels are her inadequate company manners. She is not as etiquette-correct as Aunt Felicity, but someone, probably Barenthkov, has apparently taken the time to smooth a few rough edges off her.

It may occur to Folly as she hears the Barenthkov story to wonder exactly how much of a muse Sandra has played to him, and how well she has liked it.

Folly wonders, in particular, whether Barenthkov isn't just using Sandra as another prop for his own overinflated ego, training her up and trotting her out so everyone will think he's so brilliant for having found her. (Folly doesn't dislike Barenthkov, by any means; she just thinks he's far too arrogant to effectively nurture nascent talent, especially in someone as meek as Sandra.)

[In the opinion of the GMs, Barenthkov is an asshole. A brilliant asshole, but an asshole. Make what you will of that.]

Over the rest of tea, Folly exchanges stories with Sandra about interesting musical experiences. Sandra may not have had much formal training, but she probably grew up around music. Did her family sing together? Does she like singing with other people? Folly frames her questions in a way that she thinks will make Sandra feel comfortable -- letting her tell stories rather than asking her lots of direct, probing questions -- but she listens closely for hints of Sandra's innate creativity: Does Sandra always sing songs exactly the way she's learned them, or does she ever embellish or make up new words? When she's singing with a group of people, does she stick to the melody line, or does she like singing harmonies? Folly also talks animatedly about some of her own musical experiences, so that the conversation doesn't become too one-sided.

Sandra is moderately creative, Folly thinks, based on her stories, but she has never really been encouraged to explore her creativity. Philosophically, this comes as no surprise to Folly, since neither Barenthkov nor the Rein-style traditionalists place a high value on improvisation. The Rein-style traditionalists believe in something of a scholarly approach to the older ballads, whereas Barenthkov runs off in wild directions that have nothing to do with traditional music.

[GMs]
[If I understand Folly's approach to music correctly, this is probably a source of her major quarrels with the two schools: she wants to do her trad work a la Maggie and Anders.]

[Folly]
[For you kids playing along at home -- except you, of course, Chuck -- think Fairport Convention or Steeleye Span or "Songs From The Wood"-era Jethro Tull. Or "Stonehenge". ]

[GMs]
[I think of Ossian as an improvisational musician as well. I suspect there will be a long digression on musical philosophy in a moment, and am braced for it.]

[Folly]
[I'll try not to get too carried away!]

Sandra does sing harmony, which she learned to do with her mother while singing shanties in the laundry.

Once Folly has a feel for Sandra's background, she sets her teacup aside and leans forward conspiratorially. "You have a unique advantage, I think," she says, "coming to songwriting without being trained to a specific style. It'll give you more freedom to figure out what you like, and to speak in your own voice.

"There are things to be learned from Rein's and Barenthkov's styles, of course. Rein, for example, is a consummate craftsman. His arrangements of the old ballads -- and the performances by his supporters -- have a sort of mathematical precision that can be as breathtaking to behold as a well-cut diamond, but also as cold and soulless. Barenthkov, on the other hand, has the fire that's lacking in Rein's music, but he seems so hell-bent on being 'not Rein' that he's abandoned even the good parts of traditional music." Folly shakes her head. "He doesn't even seem to realize that he's locked himself into as small a box as the one he thinks he's escaping.

"Of course, I don't think you'll have either of those problems. You put so much heart into your singing that I can't imagine you'd leave it out of your writing; and you have enough of an appreciation for traditional music that you're unlikely to abandon it mindlessly." Folly smiles warmly. "Now all you need are a few tools and some time to develop your craft. I know Barenthkov can be kind of a bear, but you seem to get on with him well enough. D'you think he might help you learn to read music, if you asked him?" Folly also listens for the answer to another question: _If he won't help you, do you think he'd be pissed off at you if someone else did?_

Sandra hesitates, then says, "I'm so busy with singing, you know. And - and Lady Folly, I'm just a poor girl from the dockside. I don't want to get above myself."

"Well, love," Folly says gently, "where I come from, we don't consider exploring your potential to be getting 'above yourself'. I'd be more inclined to say I've gotten above myself, working as an advisor to the Regent when my only qualification is that I was accidentally born of the right parents." She shrugs.

Sandra doesn't want to argue the point, but it's obvious she disagrees.

Then a new thought seems to occur to Folly, and she says, "Imagine, though, that you didn't have to worry about other people's expectations of what you should or shouldn't be. Imagine... imagine that the cupboard in Baron Kaliq's house was really the door to Paradise, and you and your family and friends could step through and live out your days however you chose. How would you want to spend your time?"

Sandra looks mildly puzzled, as if thinking about her options. "I suppose I might like to be married to a gentleman, or, or maybe even a lord, and be a lady of leisure, and have time to sing, and learn to play the harpsichord or some such. I suppose I'd only sing for my friends, then, but that's what a lady is supposed to do, not run around singing for anyone who pays. My mother thinks women who do that are barely a step up from fancy-girls." She looks sad, and Folly suspects that this has been a topic for some discussion in her home.

_Again with the getting married_, Folly thinks, frustrated, but she says instead, "Your mother will probably think me a terrible influence, then. I earned my living with my music 'til I got to Amber. It can sometimes feel like being a fancy-girl, I suppose, if you don't have much control over the music you make. But if you can do music you love for people who appreciate it, and still get the bills paid, it's not so different from being a baker, really, only you're providing sustenance for the soul rather than the body. There is no shame in the work we do." It occurs to Sandra that Folly really does consider her a fellow artist, in some ways an equal, and not just a poor girl from the docks.

Sandra says, "That's how it is for Barenthkov, Lady, yes, and you're right that there's no shame in it, but - a girl has to be careful of her reputation if she wants to wed. I - I mean I know it's not the same for you, being a great lady and the niece of the Regent; the King will find you a good marriage when he comes back. You can do what you like, and you needn't think of money, or of your reputation or, or anything at all."

She pauses, obviously afraid of offending. "But I'm not a great lady, and I wouldn't know how to be. I could learn to be a gentlewoman; Barenthkov has taught me enough about manners and such. But if I'm not careful of my reputation, no man will have me at all.

"I want to sing, and I want to learn how to write songs. But if it means I die an old maid, it will have cost me too much."

[Sandra doesn't consider herself an artist in the modern sense. She's just a girl with a gift of singing.]

"The schooling, at least, should incur no such cost," Folly says, her sympathy for Sandra's plight quickly overshadowing her frustration at the situation. "As I understand it, the young women under Ossian's tutelage prepare for their marriageability by studying art; why, then, shouldn't you study music? If you decide to give up performing, you'll at least have music training to pass down to your own daughters and sons, as your own mother taught you to sing. If, on the other hand, you continue performing, you'll have the tools to do so on your own terms, if you so choose.

"I would love to teach you, Sandra," Folly continues, "as much as you're willing to learn -- not only songwriting itself, but other tools that'll make the writing a little easier, like music theory, and reading and scribing music and Thari. I know your singing keeps you very busy, so we can take things slow. The last thing I want to do is get you into a quarrel with anyone, but if that happens, you can tell them to take it up with me. What do you think? Are you willing to try?"

"Yes," says Sandra, "I'd like that very much, if it pleases your Ladyship."

[If you were cynical, it might occur to you that it's much easier to get married on the patronage of a royal lady than under the Svengali-like patronage of Barenthkov.]

Folly grins, amused to be lending an air of respectability to the proceedings. "It does please me, very much. I think we're going to have a lot of fun."

Folly schedules lessons with Sandra for twice a month, in the Castle library. The lessons weave together basic music theory, literacy (musical and otherwise), and creativity exercises, interspersed with guru-like lectures on everything from word choice to music-lyric synergy to the interesting rhythm of Ossian's speech. Folly's intuitive nature helps her adjust her teaching style to fit Sandra's needs and skill level. She tries to make the lessons fun, too.

Sandra is a good student, although she starts out with a lack of education in what Folly thinks of as some very basic areas (e.g., illiteracy). She's got that sense of the living tradition of folk songs that many of the Docksiders have. She's timid with her creativity at first, but once she internalizes that it's OK, she enjoys making up new songs and adding new lyrics to old ones. Sandra also teaches Folly some of the bawdy versions of the songs Gerard won't teach her, but not in the hearing of Vialle.

Vialle decides that she and Aunt Felicity should take Sandra's marriage on as a project, probably more for Aunt Felicity's benefit than anything else. They start putting heads together for next year's season, or perhaps the one after that. They both tell Folly privately that she must be careful not to let Sandra's reputation be compromised. Neither one says "not to mention your own", but Folly can hear some of that too. (But they mean it only in the sweetest of ways.)

Folly, in return, sweetly refrains from making sarcastic comments about marriage around Vialle and Felicity. She can't quite bring herself to offer to help with their project, though, even though she agrees in principle that Sandra has every right to get married if that's what she really wants. Folly does at least promise to be careful of Sandra's reputation. She's somewhat careful of her own, too, inasmuch as it impacts those around her.

Soon after his introduction to the family a messenger arrives at Arden bearing the following message for Brita.

"Dear Brita,

Before I am no doubt saddled with sundry duties vital to the running of Amber, I was hoping to take some time to get to know you as family should. Kindly let me know when you can free up some time from your supervising of Arden for me to visit.

Sincerely,

Conner."

[Did anyone see fit to tell Brita that Conner is her brother? Which message arrives first?]

If no one informed Brita that Conner is her half-brother, she would assume from the above message that Conner is another cousin and would respond accordingly:

"Dear Cousin Conner,

You are welcome in Arden at any time. Cousin Jerod has a nice hunting lodge that you can stay in and I would not be opposed to some hawking or riding while you are here.

Sincerely,

Brita"

If Brita had been informed that Conner is her half-brother: "Dear Conner,

Please feel free to come at once to Arden; I will always make time to spend with my brother! Cousin Jerod has a nice hunting lodge you can rest in and we can catch up on each other's lives. I hope you like hawking or sparing; I have been missing both activities since Cousin Jerod has been gone.

Eagerly awaiting meeting you! Brita"

[Connor]
[Well it was said Conner was introduced to the family, which I assume included you, and at some point Conner would have found a quiet moment to tell you if it didn't come out in general conversation at dinner. So I'm going to go with option 2 unless the Hivemind objects.]

[Brita]
[Sounds good to me. I figure Gerard would have 'sent word' as had been mentioned in an earlier post. I am going to assume that we haven't actually met yet as Brita would have been back in Arden by the time Conner arrived.]

Conner doesn't bother writing a letter back. He simply arrives in Arden wearing travelling clothes of green and brown seeking Brita out.

Conner is initially stopped by a guard at the outskirts of the post fence. Once Conner tells the guard that he wishes to see Brita, he is led into the post. The post consists of a wide clearing with a tall stone tower with an attached stable located in the middle. Conner can see Rangers atop the tower waving multi-colored flags off to the West. Several small and medium-sized tents and one large tent are situated to one side of the fenced area. One of the medium-sized tents appears to be a mess hall of sorts. It has one open side with an awning. A small stone building behind the tent has smoke trailing out of a chimney. An open smithy is situated a little bit away from the stables on the side of the clearing away from the tents and Conner can see the smith hard at work inside forging arrows.

Conner is led to the large tent. The guard parts the doorway and gestures for Conner to enter. When Conner enters the tent, he notices a large map hanging near the entrance that appears to represent Arden and Garnath. The map has many colored symbols pinned to it scattered across the forested region of the map. Several chairs are strewn about and at the far end of the tent is a large table with several papers and maps piled on it. Leaning over the table with her back to the doorway is a tall woman with a long blond braid hanging down her back. She is dressed in a red jacket with white fur trim and brown leather pants. An older Ranger is across the table from the woman and glances up as Conner enters.

"Visitor, Lady...um... Brita." he says.

The woman straightens and turns towards Conner. He notes that she has green eyes. "Yes?" she asks as she turns and then a look of suprised delight crosses her face. "Conner?" She looks like she is struggling to contain herself while she waits for a response....

[Monica is contemplating GM'ing her first game soon and hopes that was enough description.... :)]

"Greetings." Conner's green eyes twinkle as he smiles back at her. "Sister," he adds with a satisfied sound.

"Whoo-Hoo!" Brita launches herself (all 6'2") at Conner. She wraps him in a big bear hug and practically lifts him off the ground. Setting him down again, she starts chattering "A brother!! I still can't believe it! This is so great! It is wonderful to have family here.... I mean Reid is family and all the cousins, but they aren't _Family_. This is so great! Have you seen Mom, recently?" Brita turns slightly and notices Needle off to the side."Needle! Come meet my _brother_ Conner!" Brita is being pretty animated and I'm sure Needle is shocked at the change. Brita suddenly turns back to Conner with her hands on her hips, "And just where have you been? I've been here three full years and no one even mentioned you to me!" Brita can't hold the stern expression for long. She breaks into a grin and slaps Conner on the shoulder, "But who cares? You are here now. Needle! See if you can scrounge up some wine...and food for my brother. We need to celebrate!"

[I believe, and the GMs can correct me if I am mistaken, that "whoo-hoo!" was the reaction they got when I noticed Brita's brother on the web pages :)]

Conner open his mouth several time to answers the questions she whisks by and finally settles on laughing with her instead. "I had no idea I had a little," Conner looks up at her with a chuckle, "sister either. No one told you about me because I've been hiding in plain sight. Been living in Amber for years but no one knew I was royalty."

"How could they not know? Just look at you!" Brita holds Conner at arms length for a second as she does just that then she pulls him back into a one armed hug. Hopefully, Needle has managed to get some food and wine brought in. "Here now, you must be thirsty from your trip. Let's eat and catch up." and Brita would proceed to tell Conner all about her life in Asgard/Idayoll, her da Vidar and grandda Odin, Master Reid ("our cousin, you know"), and Master Ngyen, and the events leading to Brita reaching Amber with Reid after the Sundering.

For his part Conner tells her of his life since coming to Amber. He talks of his stint in Amber's Navy rising to Captain in record time and his time in the diplomatic corps and the break in at Llewella's and his desperate flight from Rebma.

Then he asks, "When was the last time you saw Mother?"

"I have not seen her since I was very young - about six or so." Brita says. "She used to come visit during the times of the long nights, when the sun never rose, but she stopped coming after the village burned down and great-grandda Dworkin came and told me to travel with Master Reid." Brita looks a little wistful at this, but she shakes it off. "When did you last see her?"

"A few years ago, right before she went off to Chaos." Conner replies. He smiles. "She was my trainer and teacher you know. I spent my childhood and teen years as her apprentice."

"I guess, from what I've heard, that being her apprentice would make you a Pattern expert. I, myself, haven't had a chance to be initiated yet since the Pattern we have is broken. I can't even use...or make... trumps anymore."

"Pattern Journeyman really." Conner smiles. "So you got Mother's artistic eh? I can't draw a straight line with a ruler."

Last modified: 5 Feb 2002