Celina sends a page off with sealed note to Conner. There are directions inside for a special retreat in the palace. The request is for him to find her in the Royal Observatory. Once a rooftop rookery, the place seems to have been changed some years ago into a scientific retreat for studying the skies over Paris.
Having discovered it by adoring the copper staircase that wound up through a shadowy corner of the palace that overlooked the main south garden, Celina has cleaned it up a bit herself in two separate trips. It still forms a background of disuse as she fiddles with the telescope studying the western sky.
Celina has a snack buffet board set up off to the side that she has carried in herself. She hasn't really touched it for it is mid-afternoon. But politics breeds hunger. She does have a strong white wine at her elbow on a stack of books.
"Why does it not surprise me to find a Rebman attracted to a thing of lenses and mirrors?" Conner observes from the doorway with a fond smile for Celina. "A fine little retreat. I approve."
Celina grins at him. "It is fascinating. We learn that surfacers do not respect the air above their heads as living in the sea will have you look hard above and below you. However, I think between this gadget evidence, the airship that arrived with Vere and the talk about Tir in the Sky..... Well, it seems Paris thinks the sky might have mysteries to solve. I hope you've been busy." She points at the buffet tray. "Since most of us seem to be a bit mad by design, I thought we could talk about next steps. Things are going to get worse before they get better."
She takes up the wine glass but does not quit the telescope just yet. "I think the blade holder is going to be pivotal in the short term, as it is intended in the long term. What sort of promises has Khela asked? You should know I'm designated her Heir in addition to my other Choice Appointments."
Conner whistles in appreciation. "So Her Majesty felt the target on your back needed to be enlarged, did she? Congratulations." Conner walks over and pours himself a glass of the wine. "As for promises, she has asked none of me since we last spoke. The main one between us is as before. My fealty and support for her Queendom in return for the Pattern Blade of Rebma. As that question is on your mind, does that mean she has wrested promises from you?"
"You are so much more fun to talk to than Khela," Celina laughs.
Conner grins and mock-bows to Celina. "I do try."
"Indeed, we have wrested promises from each other that we are on the same side...still. We got past the part where each of us stormed over the lack of news between us. Trumps are in short supply everywhere. She doesn't have one and neither do I that I know of. Despite that, each of us expected some extra effort at courier to have been made. We were both disappointed."
Celina closes the distance to Conner. "So what would be the short colorful version of what you made of Khela in battle? Overmatched by Huon?"
"Overmatched but magnificent." Conner replies. "Jerod and Khela together were a match for Huon. That alone speaks well of her abilities. In point of fact, she did better than I in close combat. So as sword wielder I have a little training to do. As sword bearer I hope to make up for any physical shortcomings with metaphysical skills. I also plan to smile a lot but that is more of a baseline to any of my plans."
"A baseline with proven value," Celina quips. She pushes off the idea that Huon will be back, sooner rather than later and that Uncle Huon will paint a target on Conner's back. There were many reasons Huon could still want the sword. She raises her glass to Conner. "Well, not quite counting Aunt Llewella at all. You and I are the basis of a stable trident for the new court. Yes, she's made my situation harder, but no harder than her own or yours. Khela has many redeeming virtues. I don't think politics is one of them. What might we do about that? Shall we plan to be awesome in spite of our targets?"
"I ascribe to my Uncle Bleys's philosophy that one should be awesome at all times." Conner chuckles. He pauses a moment to pluck a small pot of mustard from the array of snacks and sniffs it gently. His eyes widen as does his grin. Conner starts collecting pieces of cheese and meat to go with it. "So what shall we make of Rebma? My primary concern is to make sure that the Pattern I am binding myself to will not be erased or sundered any time soon. Aside from it being strong, I am not too picky about the particulars. What are your thoughts?"
"My first thought is that sundering hasn't seemed to slow down Uncle Bleys at all," Celina wonders aloud. After all, she hasn't known him that long. She moves to a velvet lounger and sets her wine glass on the floor nearby as she drapes herself into the worn green plush. The old color reminds her of the waters of Rebma in the dark green swirl of the time. "Agreed. I think we don't want to lose the Pattern there or allow the Sunder to get any closer than it has. Rather I think we should figure out what we've already lost with Moins' absence. Rebma might be the Pattern that has special properties regards Chaosi influences. It certainly is more resilient than Amber's device."
"Among other things, we've lost the key to the Pattern Chamber and her jewel." Conner replies easily. "As for your assertions about the Rebman Pattern, I don't know about it being more or less resilient. I've always thought of it as simply further removed from the epicenter of things. That is sometimes protective when the center fails to hold."
"But is Amber the center? Or is Tir actually older? Is Rebma older?" Celina makes gestures in the air to illustrate the phantom geometry she is thinking through. "Oberon made Amber seem the center. He even pulled a lot of things there that might be older. Certainly most of the family we know comes from there or was born there." Celina searches Conner's face to make sure he doesn't think she's being insulting. "Rebma is close enough to Amber that we are in the wash of that Sundering. What I'm curious about would be--- was Tir Sundered first for example. Is it now a ghost because of that old event?"
Celina decides it would not be demeaning to make her subtext more plain. "Rebma persists but there is no Moins. Tir persists, but the Queen is trapped in some strange not-place. Amber fades with the death of Oberon. You see my curiosity."
"I do indeed but alas I have little to offer by way of satisfying it." Conner dips a cube of cheese into his mustard. "Though I would point out that Amber fades as much if not more so from the destruction of its Pattern than from the loss of its King. Though the degree to which they are linked is still an open question. You brought up Uncle Bleys and how the sundering may or not have effected him. The mathematics which we use to model the effects of Pattern were inconclusive as to whether one bound to a Pattern blade could survive the destruction of the its Pattern. The continued existence of Uncle Bleys is an encouraging data point but he once commented that he intended to enjoy his borrowed time. This implies a worry still that as Amber will slowly fade away without the Pattern to anchor it that so might he. Weighty thoughts."
Celina is quiet a long time. The morbid thoughts just seem to never stop with this family at this time. She does not shiver outwardly at 'borrowed time', but she has a more subdued tone when next she asks Conner, "Well, then we should compile a list of awesome." She tries for a smile and gets a thin one. "I'd like to start the list with keeping Khela alive. Finding the Jewel of Rebma. Opening an embassy to the Dragon of Nedra."
Conner gives Celina the time she needs and focuses on his food for awhile. Food and drink fill the otherwise awkward pauses in conversation. That is Diplomacy 101. Conner matches her wan smile with a brighter one of his own.
"Finding the Pattern Room Key, neutralize Moire and Huon as threats, integrating the Tritons safely into Rebman society." Conner ticks off the awesome on his fingers. "Integrating the Rebmans into Triton society, integrating the Rebmans and Tritons into Khela's society. We never do pick the easy jobs, do we?" Conner chuckles.
"No," Celina says, "we certainly don't." She considers and offers a sorting. "So in terms of time essential; we could say, Pattern Room Key, Find Jewel, neutralize Moire, Integrating Tritons, embassy to Dame Nedra, neutralize Huon, Intergrating Rebmans, Khela and keeping same queen..."
"I suspect the first three come down to the same thing, finding Moire." Conner grumbles. "Is there any more information on that score than was revealed at the family sit down?" Conner inquires.
"No, she's a bit ahead of us in that regard." Celina responds. "But it seems to me she cannot hide from mirrors and probability together unless she puts herself in a box and lives there. Corwin lost himself in shadow but he could walk it. Unless Moire allows such an ally to walk her into a distant place, she's got to be still connected to the paths she knows. She's guarded against scry, but she's also doing things which means she is not guarded entirely." Celina looks at Conner for his critique of this.
Conner simply nods. "Not knowing Moire's allies and abilities is our prime lack of our knowledge." He agrees. "Most defenses against scrying require a prepared location or a sustained sorcery. Neither of which is conducive to travel. It is possible that we might catch her in an unguarded moment if we attempted regular scrying attempts. Attempting to see her attendants or guardsmen is another possibility. What I cannot fathom are her motives. If she schemes to retake Rebma then she would need an army at her back and call. So either she travels to find allies or she knows something we don't and plays a waiting game. That's what concerns me the most."
Celina holds back her strongest response, considers other aspects and tries to rescale a few of the angles that present themselves. She rolls the wine glass back and forth between her palms. Her emerald gaze never leaves Conner.
"She will have allies in the Seaward, but they will be hard pressed to profit from helping her without some large proof she can retake the throne. I do not think armies will be easy to come by. Cadres of sorcerers, perhaps. I would be more worried if Huon tried to put his mobility and magical resources in Her hands to further his own agenda. He can make some guesses about the outcome of his loss on the field.
"She might be waiting for us. Knowing that she has some things that are needful. A key. A jewel. Some very good information sources. These are things she knows that we do not. As a diplomat, what is the political backwash of robbing an ex queen?" She smiles. "Recovering antiquities?"
And suddenly, she asks, "Conner tell me about vendetta. What does Family permit Florimel to do in pursuit of Moire considering no one thinks what Lucas did was permissible?"
Conner sucks in his breath quickly in surprise then lets it out as a grim chuckle. "You ask two related questions, Celina. Lucas was direct blood kin, Florimel's only claimed child. Florimel could bring down whatever doom she desired on Moire's head and not one member of the Family would question her right to do so. They might question the wisdom of her chosen method or critique her execution but no more than that."
Celina nods slowly.
Conner pauses for a drink of wine. "Of course, this does not mean that the family is disinterested in what happens to Moire. We, for example, would want her taken alive for her knowledge and for the opportunity for Queen Khela to pronounce sentence on her. The question is if we want that strongly enough to stand between Florimel and her vendetta. That is a very dangerous place to stand after all."
"I think I see," Celina offers, "....finally." She thinks, looks honestly at Conner. "I feel that Florimel considers her rights at least as strongly as any prince. So I agree that we cannot openly stand between Moire and Florimel. Neither King would do so, it seems. So the question of taking these things from Moire becomes moot. She is perhaps already dead. We need to be careful about place, timing and style." Celina licks her lips and sets her looks a bit harder. "We may have more leverage than I expected. Moire needs us more than we need the jewel."
Conner nods in agreement and perhaps approval. "Convincing Moire of that may be difficult but I concur with your analysis. Unless Florimel's anger can somehow be blunted or powerful allies are secured, Moire lives on borrowed time. The safest path for Rebma, aside from doing nothing at all, would be to offer assistance to Florimel with her vendetta and thus have someone on hand when the confrontation occurs to represent our interests. Of course, the pitch to Florimel would have to be a good one. Vendetta is such a personal thing and any hint of alternate agendas could turn her against the one that offers. The far trickier gambit is to try and beat Florimel to the punch and to do that without word getting back to Florimel. Not sure I'd recommend it, but it is an option." Conner concludes.
"Paris..." Celina looks about the room and then just smiles at Conner, "is a place that I would like to come back to on occasion. I would not like to make an enemy of Princess Florimel by any slim chance. Even if it means that Florimel gains the jewel and wants some concession from Khela." She considers her love a moment and hears a different voice. "However, if a fortune arrives that we are in position to regain Rebma's treasures with little interference in the vendetta...we should look at that seriously. We shall be willing to act very quickly." An arched eyebrow invites Conner to say she's read this wrong.
"Quickly, quietly, and carefully." Conner nods. "Any hint that we shielded Moire earns us Florimel's ire. So there must either be no story to be told of how we encountered Moire or the story must be that we found Moire for reasons of our own and immediately, or near so, informed our dear Aunt of the fact to aid with her vendetta. Once under the heading of helpful ally, it might be possible to negotiate with Florimel. After all, the promise of Moire dragged in chains through every Pattern realm before final judgments are handed down for crimes against Xanadu, Paris, and Rebma might appeal to our Aunt. Princess Florimel always struck me as "a fate worse than death" type when it comes to being wronged." Conner observes.
Celina feels a slight tilt of her inner axis and recognizes again the world changes by reveals, not by war. She has brainparts that shiver at Conner's description...seeing Moire resisting with every ounce of grandeur the ex-queen can manage in chains. And yet, Celina examines the inner terrain. The shiver is smaller. The Seaward Lass is smaller. The Celina, princess of Rebma, heir to the throne is larger and would agree with 'fate worse than death' when dealing with her enemies.
Pearls. Pearls of very darkest hue. "Moire has created her own fate more than most."
Celina sits down and fills a plate with cheeses. She nibbles slowly. "Conner, if Khela dies on the Pattern, what do you need from me? This sword bearing that I once contemplated myself...what will it mean between us? Speculate."
Conner places his plate down for a moment and stands beside her deliberately looking down. "This is where we started I think. You a fish out of water, learning to breathe and walk, new in your discoveries and powers. I was further along those paths, a source of knowledge and perhaps an ally."
Conner sinks down into a neighboring chair. His head is deliberately slightly above hers. "Here is where we are now. Comrades in arms. Friends. You have grown into your skills and by circumstance and by choice found yourself at the heart of the Rebman maelstrom. You still seek my advice but as a peer and with agendas of your own."
Conner slips from the chair and kneels before Khela on one knee. His head is below hers but only just. "This is where we must be if you wear the crown and I bear the blade. I will need you to be strong and clever and ruthless and to know that I would give you my oath freely if you become Queen."
Celina feels the tears of strong emotion rise. Before they can even come close to the surface of what Conner has offered...or be in conflict with what he has asked of her...she reaches out with strength, she takes his head ruthlessly but with light clever fingers and she kisses his forehead upon his Third Eye.
"May the Pattern preserve us from that day and into the far future."
Conner turns his face downward as Celina kisses his forehead thus she cannot see the wide smile on his face. "Unicorn forfend." He murmurs in agreement. Then Conner rises and retakes his seat. His eyes are level with hers though that could be a coincidence. "So we'll add "keep Khela alive" to our awesome list then." Conner nods. "Though she is either ready or she isn't. Personally, I don't see the one that bore a Pattern Blade and faced down Huon to lack the will to succeed."
Celina nods, casually dabbing at the corner of her eye. "Certainly I've tried every test on her that I know of."
Conner smirks slightly at that but it is fleeting. "Has she determined when and where she will try?"
"Where?" Celina laughs dryly. "Only under the palace at Rebma. Have you been there? When is as soon as possible." Celina purses her lips and shakes her head. "And with Khela that may be very very soon. She'll make some show with the nobles and address anything immediate at court, but she is certain she'll need that Advantage in order to gather what Moire has cast off. I actually think she is looking forward to it."
Celina shivers thinking of the Patternwalk, though she tries to suppress it.
"I assumed as much. To do otherwise is to jeopardize her position." Conner nods. "There is simply the thorny problem of a locked door." Conner sighs. "Martin indicated that he had an answer but that the price would be high for it. Also, he made a promise to Folly to stay out of things. That more the other caused me to abandon that tack in favor of more mundane possibilities."
Celina decides not to refill her glass until all the serious talk is done with. "The door? Thorny, yes, but an obstacle of history and time. Like Moire, it can be rendered redundant." She tilts the nearly empty wine glass. "The door can be smashed. The wall can be drilled through." She looks seriously at Conner. "Unless your know there is a reason why using the door is required?" Celina assumes the Pattern stepjolt that she experienced at the center of the Patternwalk is a pricey option and this is what Martin might be referring to. "I'd just as soon drill a sliphole as destroy a heirloom vault door."
"Have you seen the Pattern Chamber door Celina?" Conner asks. "Uncle Gerard in his prime would have difficultly forcing that door open. Moreover, to the Third Eye, the door contains substance. Metaphysically speaking, the door is very near the center of things. I would not like to disturb it for that reason." Conner pauses a moment to dip a piece of cheese into mustard and pop it in his mouth.
She nods, attentive.
"As to why you would want a door, I would point out that while the Pattern room door of Amber was always kept locked, the key hung on a hook outside. The implication is that the door is there to prevent things from exiting the Pattern chamber." Conner shrugs. "Though I've no idea what threats could lurk from that quarter. As you say though, if it cannot be opened or removed then it must be bypassed and the only clear ways to do that would be having another Pattern send you there or a supreme act of Sorcery to bend space that near a Pattern. Neither is easy nor are they convenient or reliable methods in a pinch. So we shall see. I am focusing on the notion that where one key is lost another could be made or found."
Celina puzzles on those elements. Things from the chamber like visiting... apparitions? "Bending space that near to the Pattern? That seems most unwise. I agree with the idea of letting the door stand and appreciate that everything down there has Substance...." Celina continues more slowly. "But even if it took a month to drill through the wall, why not the more direct and Substantial approach to changing access to the room? Conservation of Substance. Direct effort to conquer a static obstacle." She adds, "I've seen the door open. It's huge and hard to move. The frame is even more powerfully built. Still if we leave it, then it protects the room after we have possession.
"I guessed that finding a match to the lock would involved probing and puzzling over it until you had a key map of the interior. What some crafters call Impressioning. You think to Impression a Key of Substance from Elsewhere?" She rubs a finger along the edge of the glass. "Interesting." And adds, "Interesting also that my Father's Pattern has an even more elaborate 'vault door' to keep things inside. There must be some sort of attraction to these Patterns from places we do not see but touch us nonetheless." She cannot help but think of mirror dimensions and how they relate to Pattern.
"Indeed." Conner nods. "That is an intriguing and disturbing notion that I always meant to look into a little deeper when I had the opportunity. As for the key, yes I intend to discover the pattern for making a new key and I would have to seek the key elsewhere as metalworking beneath the waves is not a skill I've mastered and I would not entrust the work to anyone outside the family. I will admit to unease at creating something of substance but simple belief that a task will work is sometimes all the Pattern needs to guide you to the answer. Once I have the shape of the key, I intend to shadow walk to a place where such a key can be made. I'll let you know what I find when I get there." Conner smiles.
Celina laughs at the wonder of a task that sounds so complete already that the dangers will only make Conner smile the more as he tells of them.
"As you say, Blade Bearer." She grins. "You will walk into shadow...but who knows when I shall see you again. Let me assure you that necessity will ride Khela in getting to the Pattern. So walk fast and sure."
"And you, Heir Apparent, tread carefully." Conner replies. "For what you are is apparent to others while their motives remain inscrutable." Conner scoops up Celina's hand and places a courtly kiss upon it that even Aunt Flora could not fault. "Until we meet again in Rebma, fare well."
Brita leaves Martin and goes in search of a page. When she finds one, she notes that she and Prince Martin are finished with the Green Room and the excellent buffet. She then asks if the page knows the whereabouts of Princess Fiona.
The page doesn't know for certain, but he shows Brita to the chambers reserved for her mother. Fiona appears to be packing a few things for her return trip to Xanadu, but she stops when Brita is announced and comes to greet her daughter, arms extended for a hug.
Brita walks into the hugs and gives her mother a tight squeeze. She steps back and surveys the packing, "You are Returning to Reality Xanadu, Tomorrow? I will Need to Return as well for Cousin Robin's Duel. Cousin Brennan wants to Return Tonight.
"Mother, Cousin Vere had a Concern Related to His Discussion with Cousin Cambina and Seeks Your Thoughts on the Matter."
"Brennan's always welcome to come ask me himself. But what is he concerned about?" Fiona returns to her work, which involves books and instruments rather than anything as mundane as clothing, which the servants will probably pack for her.
"It is Cousin Vere with the Concern," Brita clarifies. "His Concern is that in his Conversation with Cousin Cambina, she Seemed...Less than she Should - Confused, Lost, and Incomplete. He has Not Experienced this Before in his Conversations. He has Two Theories on How this could Occur. First, the Conversation was held Away from the Place She Died; This theory could be Tested by Displacing someone who has died and Attempting a Conversation. Second, and more Worrisome, that she had been Somehow Consumed by One of Chaos and Only Portions Remained Dead. We Both felt that the Second Theory should be Brought Before the Kings as having One of Chaos with Cousin Cambina's Memories would be Dangerous. However, Given the Anger expressed at his Conversation with Cousin Cambina, Cousin Vere did Not think He could Approach Either King. One Separate Thought I had was Whether the Location of her Death - if it was In Ghostly Tir na Nog'th - and the Potential that Part of her was Left Behind has Contriubted to that Partial Aspect of her Shade. What do You Think of the Theories, Mother?"
About halfway through the recitation, Fiona stops sorting books to pay full attention to Brita. "For the theories, Vere is in the best position to know about his own abilities, and to test the first and, since he's travelling with Merlin, the second. What I think--and this is surmise based on what has been said, and more importantly, what has not--is that your third theory is closer to the mark."
She glances toward the window, as if she could see Tir through it. "Something happened up there. Cambina was caught in it and it killed her."
"We Need to Discover What Happened," Brita states the obvious. "Do You think Cousin Vere's Concern that Cousin Cambina may have been Consumed should be Relayed to the Kings?"
"I'll tell Random and Corwin. It may touch on the problems I'm working on for Random, and Corwin will take it better from me than from Vere. Someone may need to sit on Corwin to convince him not to do something foolish--as if there's anything to be done at this point." Fiona's expression is unfamiliar to Brita: it's almost a scowl.
Brita unconsciously mimics her mother's expression as she nods in acceptance of Fiona's words. Then she cocks her head to one side and asks, "What are you Working on for King Random, Mother?"
"I've been working on Vialle's dreams for some time. Right now, I'm using that as an angle of approach toward her memory problems." From her tone, Fiona doesn't feel the research is going well. "She doesn't remember anything that happened to her in the time she was missing. I worry about the sort of power that could do such a thing to her memories. Vialle's not one of us, but--" Fiona trails off, leaving the rest of the thought unspoken.
"The Queen does Not Remember and Cousin Cambina was Also Unable to Recall the Events. The Memories Exist Outside of them both. Could You Seek those Memories? Perhaps in Moonlit Tir na Nog'th?" Brita asks. "Or Perhaps tracking the Memories themselves would Lead to Whomever has Taken them."
Fiona shakes her head. "Memories aren't external in that way. The Chaosian fashion of eating life energy and the mind is one thing, but Tir is an ordered power. It's theoretically possible, or at least not impossible, but I wouldn't like to count on it. There might be a connection between Vialle's inability to answer and Cambina's, but I think it's more likely that in Cambina's case the connection simply wasn't there for any number of reasons. And in Vialle's case, she bears none of the other marks we'd find if a Lord of Chaos had consumed her memories."
She returns to packing her gear. "And I don't want to go to Tir just yet. I'd rather exhaust other theories before having that argument with Corwin."
Brita nods in acceptance and moves to help her mother in packing. "Since the Moonriders Wish to Return to Tir na Nog'th, which is Ordered, does that Mean They are From Order as Well?"
"Something about Tir is broken, and something about the Moonriders is too. They were Ordered, once, but now they are neither exactly Ordered nor exactly Chaotic. I think of them," Fiona explains, pausing for a moment in her work, "as relicts of an earlier time of Order, when the frequencies of Order thrummed at right angles to their current sound."
"Broken," Brita echoes. "Does the Breaking Precede Grandfather Oberon or did it Occur in His Time? Was it the Breaking that Changed the Acoustics of Order?"
"That was long ago, before your uncles and I were born. But if Tir weren't different somehow, weren't broken, it would appear all the time instead of just by the light of the full moon, wouldn't it?" Fiona presses her lips together. "It was one of the things Dworkin wouldn't explain, and our mother really couldn't. And Father never answered anything. It's all speculation, ours and Corwin's, and of course your Uncle Brand's."
"Appearing by the Light of the Moon Might be a Feature," Brita notes. "Something Designed into the Way Shadowy Tir na Nog'th Works." Brita continues packing. "I will be going to Gather Cousin Brennan Soon and we will be Trumping to Reality Xanadu. I will Need to Address Cousin Robin's Duel when I get There and, once That is Settled, I will be Travelling to Find Cousin Ambrose. Cousin Brennan and Cousin Edan have Agreed to Try to Help me Find Him through Sorcery."
Fiona shakes her head at the comment about the design of Tir and doesn't elaborate it. "Yes, tell me when this duel will be happening. I suspect I'll be out of Amber dealing with a concern of Ossian's if it's anytime soon, but ideally I should like to be present." Apparently she feels the three redheads should have the matter of finding a fourth of their number well under control.
"I am Not Sure, Although I Expect to Resolve it Within a Few Days. Our Conner has Agreed to Help Cousin Robin and I come up with an Appropriate Apology so there May Not be an Actual H'olmgang," Brita notes.
"In that case, I'm sure I won't need to be present. Your brother is sensible. If it weren't for the egos of all parties, none of this would ever have happened." Fiona's tone dismisses the entire affair as childlike playtime. "I'm pleased someone is going to sort it out with minimal recourse to violence."
Brita nods in agreement. "Surprisingly, Cousin Robin Wishes there to be No Violence. Hopefully, we will Make it So. If I do Not See you Before I am Off to Find Cousin Ambrose, Good Luck with Your Endeavors for the King." Brita moves to give Fiona a hug.
Later in the afternoon on the day following the family meet, Signy makes her way to the infirmary.
She slowly approaches the door to the room where Marius is located, and raises her hand to knock. She pauses there for several heartbeats, before marshalling the nerve to knock on the door, to answer the question if Marius is here, or if this time is like the last, a meeting of moments and glances.
A nurse opens the door to Marius' chamber. Marius himself is resting in the bed, with strange medical devices that Signy may not recognize, like an IV dripping fluids into him, nearby. He looks better than he did the evening before: more rested, less pale. There's a tray sitting beside the bed with the remnants of a healthy, hearty afternoon snack.
The nurse, a man on the younger end of middling age, starts to say something, but Marius cuts him off before he can get started. "My sister is welcome to visit me. I'd appreciate it if we had some privacy."
There's a glance that Signy has no trouble interpreting as displeased back at Marius, and then the nurse steps aside to let Signy in.
"Thank you," Marius says pointedly, and the nurse steps out, closing the door behind him. Marius lets the sound of its closure echo for a moment before saying to Signy, "Welcome."
Signy moves over towards the bed, her steps tentative. "Welcome back." Her voice is soft, and she hangs back slightly from his bed. "I'm sorry I left so suddenly after walking the Pattern, I just reached the end and...left."
She stops, and glancing to the side hooks the chair there with her foot and snakes it towards the bed, though she doesn't sit down. "How did you end up captured like that?"
"We can be overcome when we're alone," Marius says, a dry humor inflecting his voice. "It's not just magic. Enough men around us, and we can be beaten into submission." He sighs heavily. "After you walked the Pattern, since it was clear to me that I was--out of favor, let us say--in Xanadu, I left to follow up on some information I had about our mother's ring. The one that led me to you. I crossed paths with someone who was allied with Huon more or less directly; they overcame me; I ended my road in Gateway. From there, you know the story."
He looks to the chair. "You can sit down, you know."
Signy sinks down onto the edge of the seat, her hands folded in her lap. "These weren't the same as Brother Tomat's order, were they?" she asks nervously, before the full weight of Marius's words sink in. "Wait -- was there more with the ring? Do we have other brothers or sisters?"
She inches ever so slightly towards the edge of the chair, and leans towards Marius almost unconsciously.
"I have no evidence that Mother left us any other siblings. But until I heard the translation of the ring, I had no idea she had left me you. Or you me, depending on how you put things. I sometimes wonder what else is lost in the ruins of the tower she lived in all those years." Marius masters his bitterness at something--the fallen tower or their mother, perhaps--and meets Signy's gaze.
"And if they were Tomat's former brothers? He abandoned them for you."
Signy shifts restlessly in the chair, not quite squirming at that last observation. "What about the ring were you looking to follow up on? Do you still have it, or did they take it from you?"
"They took it. I will get it back," Marius says, and that sounds like a problem. "But I think--I think there was a second inscription."
Signy's curiosity momentarily overwhelms her. "Why? Did you understand any of it?" she asks, eagerness at the new puzzle making her momentarily forget her surroundings. "Do we need to go back and get the ring?"
"We should. The inscription--the one Tomat translated--was in Mabrahoring, which is a language of Chaos. Our father apparently knew it. If there was a second inscription, I think it might also have been in Mabrahoring, or at least used the same letter set." Marius frowns thoughtfully, trying to recall what he'd seen of the ring. "Thalia might know how to get it back. She's a member of their council. I left her in Caine's tender care."
Signy deflates slightly. "I think I'm not allowed back in Amber for a bit, unless you think you might be able to help intercede with him. I was told I couldn't come back until I figured out why everyone was being kicked out." She thinks for a moment. "Brother Tomat is still in Xanadu -- do you think he might be able to help find any inscriptions?"
"He translated the original inscription. If we can make the second inscription appear again, then he may be able to translate it." Marius grins conspiratorially. "And I know why Caine sent everyone away: because too many scions of Order in one place--a place without a Pattern--can rend the fabric of the universe asunder. The Pattern, like a pearl inside an oyster, protects the universe from the irritant that is too many of us."
Signy looks slightly relieved at this. "I was afraid I'd done something."
She looks away for a moment, before looking back at Marius. "So she never mentioned me at all?" she asks softly. "How did you find that ring after all these years? How did you know the inscription referred to me?"
"I found the ring in some of Mother's effects; they were given to me after we returned from the war. I'd never seen them until then," Marius explains. He shifts slightly, as if to get more comfortable, before answering the second question. "I didn't know it referred to you. That was Tomat's understanding. I don't think he lied to me, but he might have been narrow in his focus on what the ring meant, if you follow my meaning."
Marius' story jibes with what Tomat had said to her.
Signy looks slightly confused. "'Seek her on the Plain of Towers'" she quotes from memory. "I don't understand -- was there more that he didn't translate?"
"The second inscription appeared later. I don't think he knew it was there; I didn't. But he wasn't inclined to look any further once he knew I was looking for you," Marius clarifies, with a meaningful emphasis on the last phrase.
Signy clears her throat, breaking an uncomfortable silence after a few moments. "Does...what other things of hers do you have?" Unspoken questions start to poke their heads up in the tone of her voice.
"Lord Boreal had some of her belongings. He gave me a box of them after she died; they're in my quarters in Castle Amber. I suspect," Marius explains, watching Signy for her reaction, "that he and our mother were more than friends. It would explain why he had personal mementos."
Signy sits, looking past Marius with a blank, wooden look.
"Was Weyland your father as well?" Or is it this 'Lord Boreal', and you just to polite to mention it? "Did she ever mention him to you?"
"I believe Weyland is my father. He seems to be the only candidate. And no, our mother didn't talk about him. Caine served as a father figure for me when I was a boy," Marius says by way of explanation. "Boreal might be old enough to be my--our--father, but I suspect he was too young then to interest our mother. Caine didn't seem to think he was a candidate for paternity. He was as close to her then as any one living. Although not," Marius adds, "in that way. If one of our uncles was, it would probably have been Corwin."
Corwin's name cracks the mask, letting some of the uncertainty and doubts leak out. "Corwin?" She doesn't bother to hide those notes in her voice.
She sits and struggles for a moment, before forcing out "What was she like" in a strangled tone.
"She was beautiful and terrible, and all, particularly dear old Uncle Corwin, loved her and despaired." The comment could have been sarcastic, but Marius says it as though he means the words as spoken. "She was like a diamond. Very little touched her. I think she liked to be underestimated, or the subject of masculine fancies, at the same time the way her brothers dismissed her because of her sex infuriated her."
He leans forward, a certain eagerness shining in his own eyes. "What was our father like? Weyland, that is."
A bitter sneer twists her face. "Hard. Unyielding. Everything has a price, and he almost always gets what he demands." Surprisingly, her voice and face relax almost immediately. "A perfectionist. The things he does at the forge are works of art, and I'd only just scratched the surface of what he knows."
She remains lost in her reverie for a second or two, before glancing at Marius. "Though after seeing the Pattern blades, I have to wonder about his relationship to the rest of the Family...."
"Sounds as though they were well suited," Marius says, and it's not a compliment to either. "Perhaps he's one of Grandfather's unknown bastards. They say he had quite a few, that Huon won't be the first or last to come traipsing in from shadow." His tone has turned speculative now, as if he's not sure of the answer to his implicit question.
"Father never talked about her much. I wonder if her leaving is why he was the way he was with me, and ended up trying to pawn me off on the Count." The emotions are slowly draining from her voice and body, being wrestled into the background through sheer force of will as she comes to grips with the reality that her questions will most likely never be answered.
"When you first found me you were talking about needing to find me because I was in trouble?"
"Tomat seemed to think you were in some kind of danger, perhaps from his own order. He was certain he was. I suspect from things that Tomat said that the Klybesians were spying on your--our--father, and that his presence in Weyland's tower was the result of some twisted bargain. In such matters I think our parents were the same. But--he tried to pawn you off on Madoc? How do you mean?" Marius' frown suggests that he has an idea, but perhaps he still needs to hear her say it. Clearly.
Signy shrugs. "He talked about an arranged marriage, and then he showed up with his retinue. I was...uncooperative, and he left." A weary note threads its way into her voice. "It was right after that when he locked me in my quarters."
"Madoc," and Marius pronounces the name as if it were in a foreign language, "is not human as we understand it. He has, or had, a daughter, conceived of his own body without need for a wife, after the fashion of Chaosians. I can imagine what our father--" a word Marius draws out unpleasantly "--might have wanted from Madoc. But what would such a being want with a wife?"
Signy offers another helpless shrug, the bitterness that she had struggled to repress resurfacing in her voice. "Father never saw fit to tell me, and I never saw Madoc after that first evening."
Signy stares into her lap at her hands, resting on her thighs, before they tighten into fists before unclenching.
Her voice shifts, becoming a little more neutral. "How much longer will you be in here? Are you planning to go right back to that Shadow to get the ring back?"
"To Gateway? I don't know yet." Marius offers his sister a faint shrug. "Another week or so and I should be more than fit to go, unless one of our uncles says not. But I may not be the best agent against Gateway now. It depends on whether the Kings mean to move against them with fire and sword or with honeyed words first.
"But--if it is not too distressing, let us speak more of Madoc, or at least his childe. She, or perhaps it depending on your manner of thinking--" Marius flashes her an unpleasant little smile "--was a spy from Madoc's court in Amber during the late war. I don't know how time ran at our father's tower before the war: whether this was before or after his bid for you."
Signy looks slightly distressed. "How would we recover the ring, then?" She blinks, and gathers her thoughts around the second half of Marius's statements. "This is the Black Road war that Cambina wrote about, yes?" She shifts in her seat, becoming more comfortable. "This was before it. I don't know how long," she notes with an embarrased shrug. "I sort of lost track of time when I was locked away after Madoc's visit, but I got out when the Road showed up."
Signy chews some more on Marius's words. "So...does that mean that Madoc is counted among our Family's enemies?"
"We'll find the ring, or have it found for us."
Marius is very determined on that point.
"As for Madoc--I have debated whether he and Aisling needed war brought to their gates, or a rescue. After she was discovered, Madoc's child joined our cause, and was even a knight of my own order for a time. Then she crossed Caine, and our aunt Clarissa, and now she is dead." His lips press together. "In the end I can't say whether Aisling was friend or foe. I think she must needs know first, before the rest of us could learn from her aspect and deeds."
Signy shakes her head, adding the new name to her family tree. "I don't think that Clarissa was at the recent gathering, but what did she do to cross the two of them? And if his daughter was spying on our Family, wouldn't that suggest war? Even if he was only doing it as the vassal of some greater Lord...." her voice slowly trails off as she tries in vain to analyze the politics of the situation.
"Madoc and Clarissa are distantly of the line of Benedict, as is our enemy Dara: their niece, as best those semantics apply to Chaosi. And Clarissa was mother to Bleys and Fiona, and Brand who killed our mother. All of this war is civil, for all that it's most uncivil. But Bleys and Fiona are reconciled now, and Brand is dead, and Dara has cast her defiance in our teeth. Clarissa and Madoc are more uncertain in their state," Marius explains.
"Aisling--that is a long story, and one I may not be best fit to tell. I would ask Brennan how she came to cross Caine, for I recall that he was present. The gist of it was that she omitted one too many material facts in her confession of past sins. Clarissa, I understand, tried to rescue Aisling from the prison Caine set her in." His face twists with some combination of fascination and revulsion. "It destroyed Aisling, leaving a child after the Chaosi manner."
Signy blinks in confusion. "So, is Aisling dead, and she left a daughter?"
The expression on Marius' face goes a bit awkward. "Well. Somewhat. I said that Aisling was conceived of Madoc's own body? Clarissa freed her from Caine's shadow prison by tearing her apart. The person--being--that was left was enough different to Aisling that we would call it a different person. This is her daughter. It is," he concludes, "the sort of process we observed with the Chaosian we fought at our father's tower, in reverse." He folds his hands across his lap, lacing his fingers, looking at them instead of Signy.
Signy shivers slightly, and rubs her shoulder briefly. "And this prison was so bad that Aisling accepted this fate rather than stay?" She fidgets slightly in her seat. "What happened to this child afterwards?"
"I'm not sure Clarissa gave her much of a choice." Marius is still looking at his fingers.
"I'm told that afterwards, she took the child back to her demesne in Chaos, and from there her grandfather took her home. Most of the redheads witnessed the occasion. Madoc and Clarissa--siblings--are now estranged, unless they've since made peace."
Signy looks the past over again, spinning it around in her head.
"Why would Clarissa basically cross Caine like that," she muses. "When did all this happen in relation to the Black Road?"
Marius finally looks up. "After the Road, and after Random's coronation, when Dara appeared in Amber to live up to her threat to destroy Amber."
Signy blinks. "Did Madoc send Aisling in as a spy because of what happened at Weyland's tower....?"
"It could be. You should tell--" Marius pauses, as if making a list. "Our Uncle Caine, I think. Prince Benedict. And Sir Brennan. And," he adds with a sigh, "the two Kings. If they are not already clear on the timing."
Signy gives Marius a nervous look. "Why would Weyland hand me over to an enemy like that? Was it for revenge against our mother? What would Madoc want me? I can't see her giving into any sort of blackmail request."
Marius starts to answer but ...
She chews on her lower lip for a moment, before blinking in surprise. "Why were you out of favor in Xanadu?"
"If I had to guess," Marius says, in a tone that suggests this is not entirely speculation, "our uncle wasn't entirely satisfied with the wording of my oath. Which I do regret somewhat, to the extent that I think the King of Xanadu is no more mad than the King of Paris. If the family is to be ruled by madmen, they are relatively congenial."
Signy fixes Marius with an unblinking gaze. "What did you say to him," she asks in a flat tone of voice.
Marius scrunches up his face with the effort of remembering. "I swore--to the ruling king of Order--and not to him personally." His expression softens a little and there's a flash of something frightened in his eyes that makes him seem much younger than he is. "It occurred to me as I gave the oath that the world might end, again. I admit I worry less about that now than I did so soon after everything."
Signy's gaze doesn't falter. "What can we do to fix it? Does what happened to you in Gateway do anything to help with this?"
"I don't know," he confesses, and it seems to be an answer to both questions. "If you speak to the King, perhaps you could feel him out on that subject. The shock of our mother's death, and my own injuries was still so new." Whether this is meant as Marius' excuse to Signy or his excuse to Random isn't clear from his tone.
What is clear is that he's beginning to wear out, perhaps from the effort of healing up from his injuries.
Signy nods once, before rising to her feet. "It looks like you had some further thoughts about Weyland, but they can keep for another time."
She steps towards the door before pausing and looking back at him. "How long do you think you'll be here? Will you leave word if you go," she asks, a hint of worry creeping into her voice.
"I won't leave without you, if you promise not to leave without me," Marius says earnestly.
Signy nods slowly. "I do have to go back to Xanadu -- I have to pick up Brother Tomat and Red Fox Claws, but after that...." Her voice trails off before she nods brusquely. "I'll be back soon," she promises as she moves for the door.
After the boat trip, Edan pens a note:
::Cousin,::
::Allow me to introduce myself. I am Bleys' son, Edan, and I thought I would be remiss if I did not at least try to extend greetings to my brothers in the Art. I may be leaving Paris soon, and I heard that you may be doing the same thing, but if you would like to meet I was thinking of a quiet stroll early this evening through the eastern wing of the Louvre. If that is not feasible, I hope that we will have a chance to meet at a later time. ::
::Yours, Edan::
He receives a return note by the same page, setting a time and specific location, in Merlin's neat handwriting. The eastern wing of the palace is huge; without naming the gallery, he'd never find Merlin.
If he arrives at roughly the appointed hour, Merlin is waiting, dressed in the garb of a Parisian gentleman, all in black. The sun is low in the sky, although it won't set for hours yet, and its early evening glow lengthens Merlin's shadow where he stand by a window looking out onto a courtyard.
Edan is immediately struck with a desire to look at Merlin with the Third Eye, but he squashes the impulse. He does make enough noise to be easily tracked (having heard that Corwin's son is not the most self-assured of their generation), clears his throat, and says, "Cousin?"
Merlin turns, almost startled, but not quite, to look at the intruder. On recognizing Edan, his face rearranges into a pleasant smile. "Edan, yes." It's not a question as much as a confirmation, or a filing of fact in his mind.
He offers Edan a pleasant clasp after the Amber fashion. "And I am Merlin. It is a pleasure to meet you."
"And I you," Edan says. "I have heard a lot about you, Cousin. I wanted to meet before we both went tearing off again. I wish I had the time to meet more of us before they left, too." He indicates the Louvre with an incline of his head. "This place is... beautiful. It seems old, though, established, and it suprised me; I understood that it hadn't existed as a place of Order for long."
"My father modeled it, consciously or not, on a place he knew in Shadow. I believe he has incorporated parts of its history into his own city's past, such as it is. It feels more like what I expected Amber to be, with that weight and heaviness. I do not pretend to understand how, although I appreciate the results." Merlin gestures lightly with his hand, indicating the building in much the same way Edan did with the incline of his head moments ago.
"How quickly do you plan to depart?" he asks, gesturing down the hall as an indication of the direction they might explore.
Edan smiles a little and turns that way. "In the next day or two, surely," he says. "As soon as Garrett and Signy and I figure out where we're going and have a plan. Still, I daresay I will be staying closer to Xanadu and Amber and perhaps here than I have been. I was quite far afield, but you heard about that at the gathering." He glances Merlin's direction. "Do you have plans? From what I had heard, Lord Dara had been looking for you, and made that abundantly clear at the Coronation. I would have thought this was one of the safest places you could be."
"I will be leaving with Vere to train him in metaphysics in the morning, a training that I cannot conduct here. Fortunately, I have reason to believe that my mother will be too busy dealing with the question of my sister to spend much time thinking of me." Merlin's facial expression involves the corners of his mouth turning up, but it's not exactly a smile. "If you passed Ygg, perhaps you met our kinsman Madoc?"
Edan shakes his head. "I have not met him. I took part in a race on this side of the Tree, and found out that there was a similar race on the other side, sponsored by Madoc, going on at the same time. Later, when Clarissa and I went to Uxmal, Madoc apparently pushed Lilly through a Veil close to us. That's about as close as I have gotten. My impression was that he bears us... his Amber relatives, I mean... some antipathy." He suddenly brightens, remembering. "Speaking of that race, Martin and Lilly came through right after it was finished. We know the reason now, of course, which was Meg. Did you make that charm that Martin carries? That was very good work."
Merlin's expression at the mention of Madoc's antipathy is some cross between rueful and dismayed, as if Edan had suggested something he hoped to be false and was disappointed to find out was true.
"Which one?" Merlin says, ignoring further discussion of Madoc in favor of a better topic of conversation. "Martin has several. He got them from our grandfather. I have inspected them in the hopes of determining how to construct them on my own."
"Martin had a gem that masked his presence from sorcerous senses," Edan says. "He used it to mask our conversation. I ensorcelled one of my swords with the same charm later on, which may or may not have hid Lilly and I from Chantico until we actually joined the battle. The tricky part, I think, was the duration; had I tried the same thing, I might have ended up with a charm that protected us for about a half an inch radius." He smiles.
"Ah, yes, I have seen him use such things. Gems, coins, what have you, that protect from scrying spells and mirrors. I do not know how that one was constructed, although I could guess if I had the item in hand, nor by whom. Perhaps Dworkin made it," Merlin suggests.
"I see," Edan says. He's quiet as they walk under a particularly large fresco painted on the ceiling, looking up; then he shakes his head and says, "You were speaking of Meg a moment ago, weren't you? When you mentioned your sister? I forgot about Celina."
"Yes." Merlin's expression goes a little wide-eyed as he, too, stops contemplating the art and starts contemplating Edan's question. "Celina would be of interest to my mother, if only because she is my father's. I am glad she goes to Rebma, which I believe is unsafe for my mother."
Edan looks confused. "Would it be? I thought she walked the Pattern."
"Yes," Merlin agrees, "but it is still a Pattern realm, which limits her. She cannot draw on the power of her Castle, and her ability to perform sorcery is at least limited, although in the telling of the story of Huon I understand she is less limited than I would like. But some sorcery has always worked in Rebma, as I understand it. There are sorcerers who will oppose my mother if she attempts to harm Celina, the new Queen not least among them. I would prefer that she remain in Paris, but Rebma is safer than shadow travel."
He looks upward again at the fresco, as if examining whether the blue background is the airs of some shadow-Paris' heaven or the waters of Rebma, or both.
"This Khela is a sorceress? I did not know that." Edan muses a moment. "Perhaps I misread things when I was in Clarissa. I saw her castle, her realm, everything as an extension of her. I imagined Clarissa avatars wandering throughout the universe, not progeny mind you, but small parts of herself invested with power and given independent movement. I saw a mechanism for her maintaining immortality that way. I can see Dara drawing power from her realm, yes. But her castle, it is like an affine unto itself? If Dara were not present, it would act independently, not merely be an extension of Dara? Forgive me, if I am intruding too far into gastronomical politics."
"The castle was Borel. Such a large piece of him will naturally take time to digest, yes?" Merlin looks at Edan to see whether the metaphor stretches far enough to enlighten him.
The metaphor appears fine to Edan; more than fine. Too fine. Too close. Edan nearly stumbles, then looks away. "Time to digest," he says. "Naturally."
Merlin politely looks away too; Edan can tell by the echoes of his voice in the gallery. "I am sorry; I have spoken out of turn. Such things are a disgusting subject for the Ordered members of my family. I forget this sometimes."
"No... no." Edan shakes his head and turns back to look at Merlin. "It's not your fault, it's mine. And this subject is hardly disgusting. It's... important. Will Dara change as she Eats Castle Borel, and all the various and sundry affines that served him? It? Would cleph not be, er, jealous of this?"
Merlin's head swivels back, his expression a bit sharp at the word 'important'. "If he were to rejoin with the castle, he would probably be Borel again. I do not know why he has not done this, except perhaps he cannot. My father cut him with Grayswandir."
"Oh, I see. Too bad for him." Edan's tone makes it sound like it's anything but. "Or perhaps Dara isn't permitting it. It does lead in to one of the questions I was hoping to ask you, Merlin. It's about affines. Have you ever... what is the term... accepted one? Do you know much about them?"
"I know much about them from observation, but I have never taken an affine. I was not permitted to do so, since I was raised to be a Prince of Amber and not a Lord of Chaos," Merlin explains. "Why do you ask?"
"I... have one," Edan says. "You may have seen it already, since I have hardly been hiding it. It was a gift. I have had a rather steep learning curve as to its care, and have made a series of wrong guesses as to its origins, its food, its abilities... everything. I started by being mistrustful of it, and now that it has proved its loyalty, my feelings may have swung too far the other way. Is it a common practice for affines to be given as a gift?"
"No." Merlin sounds both intrigued and confused. "Who gave it to you?"
"The daughter of the High Marshall of Ghenesh," Edan says. "I met her while in the Race to Madness, near Ygg. For a while, I thought the affine might have been a remnant of Aisling, but Clarissa denied that possibility."
Merlin nods slowly at this answer, considering it, and not coming to a conclusion. "Was it her affine, then? I mean, when she gave it to you. Did she tell you where she got it?"
"She said it was unaffinated," Edan says. "She held out her palm, and it was there, in the shape of a tiny horse. 'It is not Mine', she said, 'but it comes from further away on this side of the Tree.' I named it, soon after, and it has acted as an affine ever since. I could detect no other bonds or geas upon it, and it has proven its loyalty to me time and again."
"If it is your affine, it should be utterly loyal to you. Were you not Ordered, there would be only a trivial distinction between you and it." Merlin frowns thoughtfully. "I understood at our grandfather's funeral that the Moonriders had dealings with the lords of Chaos. That you obtained an affine from her is a sign that those bonds were closer than previously suspected. I wonder now what she would have done with it had she not met you."
"Clarissa said that it was tainted by Order... I suppose from me," Edan says. "I don't know why Chases would be carrying it, or whom would receive it. It followed that it might have been created specifically for me, which is why I was so distrustful of it to start." He shrugs. "So. You see my problem. I will keep it, and continue to rely on it, and even if I'm wrong, it's better to keep your enemies closer, and all that." He smiles. "Though if you hear or think of a good reason why that would change, I would appreciate hearing it. Did you, ah, wonder why I wanted to meet you?"
"I assumed it was the natural curiosity most of our family has about one of us raised beyond Ygg." Merlin says this as if it's natural and not particularly offensive to him to be viewed as a living freakshow.
Edan shakes his head. "No, Merlin. It is because of all of our many cousins, I think you and I are among the most similar. There are only a few that understand Sorcery, much less practice it. Brennan is centuries older. Conner has strong ties to Rebma, and is more of an 'insider' than an 'outsider', though I must admit I do communicate well with him. You grew up learning of Order without having seen it; I grew up learning Sorcery without being able to practice it. As you said, you grew up near the Courts but were raised to be a Prince of Amber. I have grown up Ordered, and have gotten a crash course on what it means to be a Lord of Chaos... actually, a little too far for comfort. You and I are peers, in a way that very few of our cousins can say. It is most relaxing to be able to, ah, 'talk shop', with someone who understands what I am talking about and yet does not have a yawning gulf of centuries-old experience betwixt me and them. That is why I was curious about you."
Merlin blinks a couple of times, slowly. Time-buying gestures like that seem to be a part of his repertoire. "I see. I believe this is the first time that one of my Ordered kinsmen has considered himself more like me than like the rest of the family. I must--ponder this. Do you carry any Trumps?"
"Er..." Edan looks a little sheepish and scratches the back of his head. "That is one of the things I need to do, actually, before our group sets out. At the moment, I have no Trumps. Paige has my Trump, or at the least should have a good sketch or two. And as I've told our other cousins who can make them, you have my permission to draw a Trump of me if the need arises."
"I prefer to make them when the subject is present. Apart from issues of permission, the artistry is better. But the permission is duly noted." Merlin pulls out what must be his own trump case, although it's thicker and has more room in it than most of the cases Edan has seen. "Eventually I will run out of these, but not today." He passes Edan a card, face down, which Edan has heard from Bleys is the proper etiquette. "My card, should you need it."
Edan does a slow bow from the neck, somehow making it look so much more than a simple head bob. "Thank you, Cousin. Would that I had one of me to share. I hope you have good fortune on your trip. Come to think of it, I'll wish myself good fortune on my trip, too."
"I will join you in both of those wishes." Merlin's smiling as if Edan has said something particularly amusing. "Farewell until we meet again."
Last modified: 25 October 2010