Confronting Heap

Hannah goes back to her room to give her attention to her correspondence.

Though she chews her lip a bit over the first note, her two years of finishing school force it right out.

My Queen,

I do hope you are well. I am returned from Rebma and would like to get your perspective on my adventure, and anything else you might like to discuss. I have gotten to meet my Aunt Llewella and did spend some short time with Queen Khela, though I was back in Xanadu before the sad news reached me.

If you have the time for this, please send a secretary with a note. I must go see if I can wrangle my Papa from the woods to the city, so he might help our tribesmen get settled, but I am hopeful this will not take as long as it did to get them here. In the meantime, I trust you are well entertained and look forward to seeing you soon.

Sincerely,

Hannah

She begins her second with a wry smile, well aware she hasn't enough knowledge of her cousin to know how he'll read a note. She starts one addressed to Edan before she crumples it into the trash and tries again.

Dearest Firedancer,

Rather than hunt around for you I will leave you a note and you'll find me when you can, I trust. I should like very much to talk with you again. I have been to Rebma and brought tribesmen back to Xanadu and if they keep to rituals apace there will be men dancing round a fire soon enough and I think you might find it a fitting exercise to participate in. Or just watch, if you're feeling shy, but I have a feeling you would not be able to keep yourself from it, could you see.

I would at least like to take a walk with you, if nothing else.

Enana

A harried page promises to deliver Hannah's notes to the Queen and Prince Bleys' son's room.

With a sigh she applies herself to condolences for Celina and Llewella, and returns answers to any letters that were awaiting her return. It almost feels normal, until she starts mentally walking through the conversation she needs to have with her father. Then she just feels nauseous again.

Nonetheless, she packs a sack just in case she's out overnight, brings her medical kit along, and stops in the kitchen to grab traveling food. Then she's out to the stables to have a long talk with her mare before she saddles her for the first time in years. She heads off in the general direction she and Paige took out for their spirit walk.

The stable has kept Misae well. She's been exercised, and apparently ridden. She's not shy of the saddle or out of shape. She seems glad to see Hannah and happy to be taken out for a longer ride.

As Hannah takes the trail up from the castle to the top of the cliff, she looks down and the city below has grown tremendously in just the time Hannah was in Rebma. Ossian's transport magic has drastically increased the population. The clement weather makes it possible for people to sleep out of doors while they find accommodation.

At the top of the trail, there's a path to the stones that lead to Tir, where Cambina fell. Beyond is a branch of the river Random calls 'Alf' and then there are trails into the woods to an encampment of Vere's people and Paige's Rangers. That's where Hannah has been told her father is.

Rangers look up when Hannah rides into town, most of them strangers, but a few look like Ponca.

Hannah smiles at the rangers and picks the closest one. "Excuse me. I'm looking for a man who could be going by Joseph or Istamahza or just Le Corbeau. Looks like he could be my younger brother. Any chance you could help me find him, sir?"

The young Ranger looks up at her. "He's usually in the Commander's tent, Miss. Would you like me to take care of your horse?" He points in the direction of the largest tent in the clearing.

She nods with a little smile, her eyes flitting around the layout of the community here as she dismounts. She thanks him and quickly unbuckles her bags.

She makes her way over to the big tent and calls, teasing, "Papa, j'ai un cadeau pour vous." She tilts her head to check if the flap is open.

The flap is open. Inside Hannah sees a number of Rangers, and her Papa coming out. "L'avenir est un cadeau de mon passé, non?" He comes out, just as young and alert as he was in the spirit world, although his eyes are older. "I've been practicing my French with your cousin and her children, when she's around." His smile is radiant, but it fades as he turns to more serious matters. "Did you find our imbécile kinfolk?"

Hannah smile quirks with all the complexity she feels. "I did. We have talked about the way things are, and now they are in Xanadu. Let's walk," she says with a little sigh, reaching for his arm to pull him along.

"I was hoping I could pull you away from all this and in their direction, but you look quite happy here."

He smiles. "Rangers are a people who know how to be quiet, a skill I have practiced for many years in and out of the blue world. Here I am treated as an elder, despite my apparent youth.

"And I spoke to the wiyan wakan, Fiona. She thinks I may be descended from her brother the raven. She says it explains things, but she is a wiyan wakan, so she will not say what things."

Hannah chuckles.

"If you need me with the Ponca, I will talk to them, but they may need to follow their own guidance. Some may even want to be Rangers with me, in these woods."

She nods. "I would like you to go stir the pot. Some of them are doubtless trackers who would do best up here. I do think they've paid the price of their foolishness, many times over, but I've always been softhearted over my cousins." She looks sideways at him to see if she can tell what he's thinking. "I don't think there are any traditions Xanadu can't handle. Except maybe polygyny, but who knows."

Hannah's father smiles, slowly. "Knowing your mother, the Warden, and the stories of the King, if there are rules like that, they do not apply to all. Do you know if the King intends to allow laws for each tribe, or does he follow the white-man's way and believe that law is based on land?"

Hannah starts to answer, but draws in breath and blushes in mortification. "I forgot the hunts." She stops to hide her face against her father's shoulder. It takes her a moment to recover herself.

When she does, she pulls herself up with a deep breath. "I'd learned to live without them. We'd learned to live without them. Perhaps it doesn't have to be that way. The King..." she allows herself a fond but exasperated grin, "I think he's making a great deal of this up as he goes along, but he comes from an absolute monarchy. He is the law, if you can get that far."

She shrugs as her color finally starts to fade. "From what I've seen, it's more the white-man's way, but the place is new, and Random is reasonable. If we come to him, or even better, the Lord Mayor, with a solution in hand, we're more like to get what we want. I don't think he'll let us live outside the law, but he might let us live inside it. Compromise, as usual.

"What have you been hearing about the King?"

Es-ti-ma-za's response is quick, as if he doesn't need to even think to recall things about the King. "That he is as a young chief who has won a great battle and whose father was known for wisdom. He might one day be known for wisdom, but the road may not be smooth.

"Should we speak to him about our people?"

She grins over at her father. "I was thinking more we should introduce him to them. He plays drums. I was thinking a ritual combining The Feast of the Soldiers and the Sun Dance. We are a changed people, we can change rituals. We can do whatever we want, whatever we need."

She laughs. "So says the Wicasa Wanka. So it is. Yet I think before we explore that, we need to talk about you. How old are you really, papa?"

He smiles, an infectious, boyish grin. "How can I tally the years? I have lived in places that are timeless. I lived in the blue world, where time did not pass, but things happened as if in stories. 'One day Es-ti-ma-za heard a knocking on his door, and his daughter came in.' How long ago was that? How long was before that? That's not something I can figure out."

"I remember things, though. I remember Omaha who had never seen a white man."

Hannah is taken aback. It takes her a moment to formulate her thoughts. "I have gotten used to the idea that Ysabeau was an immortal world-walker. I know it's childish to be annoyed that you've turned out to be more than an old, demanding, stubborn pillar-of-righteousness, but I can't help it. Can you turn into a raven too then?"

Estimaza laughs. "No. Can you? While I aged more slowly than others in the world, it was not until your mother and I were in the blue world that I became young in body again. Your mother told me things of the great gift of her father, but she never hinted that I might be her father's grandson. How is it different, now that I am a young, demanding, stubborn pillar of righteousness?"

"Oh, I don't know," she answers with an edge of petulance. "You're supposed to be the Papa, you're not supposed to change. I did say it was childish.

"And I don't know if I can change into a raven. I've never tried. Fiona didn't happen to say which brother she considers the raven, did she?"

"It is good that I can still see my young daughter, the child of my old age. You make me young again. As for changing into un corbeaux, you should try sometime. It would be very interesting if you could, and interesting, perhaps, if you could not. Fi-oh-nah said she wanted to do more research on the raven, but I think she meant to ask him."

"Hm," is Hannah's only comment on that. "Someday I will try to be a bird Papa, but now is not the right time. I have to tell you something Random told me. It pleases me not at all, but I know he is telling me the truth. He says your blood is not right for you to be able to do the ritual I did that lets me walk the worlds. He says it would kill you." Her mouth draws into a line as she watches his reaction.

Iron Eye's reaction is about what Hannah expected. "Oh? So many things were supposed to kill me, and have not. And if I die, who knows what great adventure I will go on? How can it be, daughter-who-studied-white-medicine, that you can have a trait that I do not?"

"Through my mother's deoxyribonucleic acids. From you I clearly get my common sense," she says dryly. "My aunt Llewella's daughter Khela just died trying to do it. So it becomes clear that inherited ability to accomplish the feat can be wiped away even for a grandchild of Oberon. I can have no expectation that my own children will ever be able to do it, either. Luckily, Random can tell - it is just then about whether they inherit any sense from anywhere."

"If you try it, you will die, Papa. Who knows what horrible thing it will do to Random, since he is spiritually, at least, connected to it. This isn't a perhaps, and you won't be the only victim, and personally I would find it selfish of you to attempt, knowing that." She crosses her arms.

Is-ti-ma-za raises an eyebrow, and does not seem convinced by her argument. "Your mother swore me to keep your heritage from you, as it would kill you. It did not. Random could be wrong, or have other motives for what he says."

He shifts. "The Warden's children say they have thousands of brothers and sisters, but only they might one day be full-blooded. There's more to this than some acids in your blood. Whatever it is, I want to know, so I can rest assured that you do not have the power as the gift of oxyribons from the Raven through me."

She sighs unhappily. "The first time Random gets caught lying about his, no one ever believes him again. For that reason, it would be worth his while to make certain you didn't succeed. So whether his motivations be pure or nasty, you'd be a dead man. What I don't think is that he's wrong.

"Now, it seems to the scientist in me we might be able to figure it out. It looks like it is about breeding, papa. You're a horseman. It may be I was only suited because you had *some* of the family blood mixed with Ysabeau's closer family bloodline. But the places that can help us figure this out might also be able to take and use our traits for something sinister. I know what answer I'd get if I brought up such an idea to the royals." She grins a bit, but shakes her head. "It'd be more sneaking and lying than I'd be willing to do.

"I am curious exactly what Ysabeau said to you about my getting killed. Before the war it would have been more likely than not, I think, even if I could have managed the ritual."

Is-ti-ma-za crosses his arms. "Let's make an arrangement. If you can show me exactly why I'm not qualified and you are, I won't pursue it. But if not, I will. Seems to me that the 'living multiple lifetimes so far' is a good indicator that I'm not like other people."

"I get fifty years to prove it," Hannah starts.

His head shakes, a gesture surprisingly like Prince Martin's. "You shall start immediately, you will report back frequently, and if you ever give up for half a year, I will assume you have been unable to make further progress and will revert to my own judgement."

She scowls for some time before she speaks. "If you agree to read what I send you so you can understand what I'm talking about and assist me as I require so I don't have to fail to meet the commitments I've already made, nor put anyone in danger." She abandons crossing her arms to put her hands on her hips. "Except perhaps us."

Estimaza smiles, a boyish grin. "One can only be proven immortal in the negative, child. Raven's blood makes us too inquisitive for our own good, but it explains much. I'll read what you write, or better I will take your explanation in person."

He pauses, but not for long. "Where do we start?"

Hannah sighs. "I've just made you a deal that could be destructive to our descendants, and I need to sleep on it. It may be better for them if I let you destroy yourself, if keeping you means endangering the entire family." She is truly unhappy, and tries to rub away the worry that sits on her stomach. She looks at her too-young father and desperately fights the emotional tightening of her throat. She misses her mothers, who were so much better at manipulating him than she is. "But I can at least try to teach you the basics of genetics, if you agree?"

Estimaza shrugs. "Not passing the earths on to the next generation is unnatural. If I must be destroyed for the sake of the family, then that is a burden I can carry onwards. I always preferred ancestor spirits to ancestors, anyway."

He smiles. "But yes, since I am effectively timeless, I will take advantage of the chance to learn from my highly educated daughter. What is a genetic?"

Hannah uses the bit of genetic wealth she knows he father is already well aware of - horse breeding - to explain the basics of genetics. Then she takes it back toward humans with blood groups. For Hannah DNA being part of every living thing simply supports a world-view she's always had, and it is easy to discuss these things around the stories her father saw her raised with.

She keeps it to broader concepts and doesn't dig into the details in the science, until she's sure she's gotten the base concepts across.

Estimaza quickly gathers the basics of single allele traits and recessives, and asks smart questions about traits like skin color that are involved with complex combinations

He wants to know how they interact with the gods and the blue world.

"It's an interesting question, isn't it? I do not know. And if shadow is really infinite and everything exists somewhere, there must be some people without DNA. But probably Grandfather Bear has it, he just has some gene that turns off aging. Like you must. They work that way - you may have inherited the code for the ritual, but not the code that sends the signal to release the chemical that would turn it on. It is like horse breeding that way. It seems so common-sense until you try to do it, and then you realize too late it isn't so simple.

"You've had mares breed extraordinary fillies but boring colts off the same father. Just as an example, gender alone could play a factor in our line," she grins at this, but she's only half-teasing. "Our mustangs are so special because they were left alone to become what the people needed. We play with farm animals or race horses, but we let mustangs flow with nature. So I'll help you find out what the difference is, but then you have to let it be, Papa. If I can find it and prove it, you have to be who you are and not try to change it."

Estimaza frowns. "We already have a deal you haven't finished and you want another one? I have already agreed to let your answer guide me. If I cannot take the ritual, I will not. I do not think I would choose not to be myself. That is not a trait I have inherited."

"You must have made some interesting choices to have survived this long," she grins. "But I'm glad to have the reassurance and one less thing to worry about. Now, I'm counting on you to go check in on the city-Ponca, and send me a note if you think I should go down sooner rather than later. We need to have some sort of fire dance and invite Random down. I need to send you books if there are any useful ones, or start writing you every morning. I need to go visit my patients. That's a long enough list. Do you think Paige will let the children come to a fire dance?"

Estimaza grunts. "Paige is a parent like I was. In some ways she is strict, in others, she gives them their heads. They have yet to reason out why that is. I think The Warden would allow it, as long as we were with them. The last time they went off alone, we had to keep them from trying to hunt basilisks."

Hannah laughs. "Basilisks? At least they enjoy a challenge." She hugs her father. "I've got to head back. I'll be waiting for your note."

The Harbormaster's house solidly occupies the corner of the main avenue into the city from the harbor and the rows of docks. It's three stories tall, and has a widow's walk on the top of it. For the moment, it dwarfs all the other dwellings in the harbor district. There are lights on, and as Jerod and Flannel approach it's clear that there are people inside.

Noisy people.

Jerod notes the noise, leaving it to fate whether it will become noisier...or much quieter in the next few minutes. He checks the perimeter of the building to note any other entrances to the building from which any individuals inside might want to use to avoid talking to Jerod. Once those are located, Jerod places the couple of guards he acquired during his trip there at points advantageous to cover the exits and to ensure that anyone resembling Heap, should he in the building and whose description Jerod has provided to the guards in detail, doesn't get away.

The perimeter sweep also gives Jerod an idea as to the number of people involved and the level of activity to be faced.

Once that is covered, and assuming there is nothing unusual going on that would merit further attention, Jerod heads inside with Flannel.

The door opens into a large foyer, with smaller rooms to both sides. There are perhaps a score of people in the room, mostly men with a handful of women. The conversation drops to silence as people notice Jerod's presence or the silence of those around them. The last to drop off is a fiddle-player in a back corner. All eyes are on Eric's son.

"My Lord Jerod," says a middle-aged man. "To what do we owe this honor?"

Flannel coughs and indicates someone towards the back. Jerod has noticed him as well. Heap, the former printer from Amber. He seems out of place with these ship's officers and their company.

Jerod nods to Flannel's cough while focussing his gaze on Heap, not an experience to be looked forward to. He speaks to the room at large even as he directs his message to his quarry.

"I regret that this is not a social call, as I would otherwise be most pleased to be here." he says, taking note to remember the man who spoke to him. "I am here for Heap...he is wanted for questioning."

Jerod is ready in case Heap decides to rabbit.

Heap looks stunned, for a moment, then the familiar wheedle returns with his voice. "Prince Jerod? Always a pleasure for an 'umble businessman from Amber to see a man of your eminence amongst us. I trust that nothing is amiss?" He bends over slightly. It may be significant that he's now a businessman rather than a printer.

Standing next to him is a lawyer Jerod remembers from Amber, named Octave.

Bad pennies always show up when you least expect them... unless you're Jerod... in which case you expect them all the time. He remembers back to a play he watched, at a place in Shadow... the guest of a playwright of note in that locale and of considerable wit and foresight... and something about getting rid of all the lawyers. He never really agreed with that sentiment, though he understands where it comes from. Rather he thinks... a selective pruning might be more in order.

Jerod looks over Octave as he approaches Heap, wondering if the man is going to be trying to represent Heap like he did with his previous client. That Heap is a businessman would certainly have some advantages, especially with regards to money, position and perception within the kingdom... plus the effects of privileged protection for selected classes within Xanadu. Jerod wonders briefly who would be underwriting Heap, given that his printing business went under... though Heap's true business has been never printing but secret's collection... and that is a currency of greater value in business than coin.

Jerod the politician would be sensitive to these nuances, understanding where and when these could be over-stepped and when it might be more appropriate to allow things to slide and arrange to persuade the target to cooperate, to work on his side instead of against him.

Then Jerod the Prince thinks of a little boy named Max and his friend Martin's request and decides "screw the nuances".

"Depends. From what I gather, you're in even more trouble than Sir Octave's last client when he represented before me. And that was for hoarding food and profiteering during the Sundering... potentially starving thousands of innocent people." he says, now standing in front of Heap. "You can come politely so we can discuss the matter at hand... perhaps come to a resolution... or I can drag you from this building in a bloody heap... a resolution of a different kind." and Jerod smiles at the pun... though it is the smile of the shark, not the orca.

Heap looks at Octave and Octave smiles. "Of course we will cooperate with such a proper and reasonable request by a honored member of the King's court. May I accompany my client, in an advisory role? He has been drinking, and is not in complete control of his facilities. I assume this is a matter of importance that cannot wait until the morning, when Mister Heap is not so ... disadvantaged by circumstance."

Jerod believes it's true, but it may not be as true as Octave suggests. He's playing the game here, making suggestions in the face of the witnesses.

"I think you may wish to re-consider your choice of clients, Octave. You seem to have this thing about associating with individuals who are involved with treason to the Crown. They keep having to throw themselves on the mercy of the Crown to avoid summary execution." Jerod says, also for the witnesses. "Your last client was quite the prize. As I recall he made quite an intelligent decision...once the situation was explained to him. But then, I also recall...he wasn't involved in threatening the life of a member of the Royal family."

He looks at Heap as he continues, though Octave's response is also checked. "And we find...not just a member of the family...but a young child no less.

"I've always wondered...what kind of individual willingly does that. Who...decides...that they would make such an attempt...upon such a defenceless individual...so they can advance their station...so they can move up...to the level of a businessman." he says to Heap, letting his tone get colder, sharper, more biting, never raising, never wavering...letting the witnesses get a little glimpse of what awaits him if he fights. Audiences can go both ways...and this audience is going to have a clear line as to what is waiting for Heap...and any who decide to support him. Those are things that are of importance to Jerod...who are his backers, who will feel threatened, and who will waver.

Heap is as white as a sheet, but pauses. Octave looks unscathed. "Grave accusations, indeed, " replies Octave. "I hope that the process of justice will be fair and that my client will have a chance to defend himself. It would be a miscarriage of the King's Justice were my client to confess out of fear for his life and the guilty party were to remain at large. I know his majesty would not be pleased if these men here were to think his justice was not meted out fairly and with proper safeguards for the accused."

Octave seems to be winning the harbormaster's guests, although none of them seem to be interested in intervening. Jerod's words still have many of them unsure, though. Jerod thinks they generally don't wish to be involved.

The lawyer continues. "Waver, please fetch my coat and hat, and Heap's as well. Clasp, I will send a message if I must miss our breakfast meeting."

He turns back to Jerod. "We are at your disposal, Prince Jerod. Lead us to wherever we can assist you with your questions."

Jerod makes note of the individuals that Octave is speaking to...and makes sure that they are very aware that he knows who they are. As always, he is curious as to their reaction...are they bored, are they uncomfortable or are they suddenly nervous for what should be no apparent reason.

"Let's go Heap. Time for answers." Jerod says, picking up Flannel on the way.

And they are off to Scarlett's...or as Jerod would say...the new crucible...

Jerod approaches the front of Scarlett's with Flannel and Heap. Octave walks beside Heap. "Is this a regular locale for the King's Justice, Prince Jerod?"

Jerod thinks that someone has seen them approaching, but the doors are still closed.

"This will be the crucible where by the accused and accuser will meet and the truth shall be known." Jerod says. "I will be the judge and the questions posed will be mine. If you disagree, you are free to take up the matter with Prince Martin, under whose authority and request I am operating. You have my leave to depart immediately to speak to him if you wish...without Heap."

He makes note of Heap's behaviour as they are approaching and as they enter.

Octave nods, taking it in stride. "If your grace will permit, I will advise Heap as to the law as I know it. I am interested in studying justice as you see it, so that I may better advise my clients who may cross your path in the future."

Heap looks uncertain. He's clearly against crucible. "Who has accused me? I am loyal, my Lord, and have been slandered. I serve men who serve the King!"

"We'll see." Jerod says simply. "If you are in fact slandered, then I shall mete out the punishment to your accuser. If not..." and he shrugs.

"In we go."

Scarlett opens the door and lets them in. "Raven and the other one just left, after Grimey, maybe."

As they enter, after their eyes adjust to the light, they see Kitten tied to the chair that Scarlett was sitting in when Jerod was here last. Flannel and Octave seem to have well-practiced poker faces, but Heap seems even more distressed, if that's possible.

Jerod nods to Scarlett as he takes in the view and looks at Heap with a slight smile. It is not a pleasant smile.

"Well, it seems the gang is almost here." he says, moving over to inspect Kitten and his injury. "Only one left is Grimey...we'll see if he's smart enough not to piss off Family."

A cursory inspection would reveal enough for Jerod to recognize an arrow wound, his memory of his companions and their gear plus Victor's comments lets him put pieces together and give this one to Robin. A live one is always better, especially when you're not interested in producing a body count. Jerod's own count is large enough without working on it deliberately.

After his inspection he looks over at Scarlett. "Time to get things resolved." he says, and motions to Heap to a chair, with a look that indicates it's not a request. He points to a spot for Flannel to occupy and then positions himself in such a way so that he can see each of the principals and be able to register their expressions.

"Welcome to the crucible." Jerod says simply. "As I was explaining to Heap on the way here, a situation has arisen that my friend the Crown Prince has asked me to look into. That has led to accusations that I'm sure our resident lawyer here will say are extremely serious...and they are. So I've decided to find out whether they are true and we're doing it here because I've got some very good reasons.

"First, I like following the spirit of the law. That means if a crime has occurred, you deal with it, hopefully in a manner that means it doesn't recur. I've found most criminals prefer the letter of the law, because they can find loopholes and try to get those who defend their system of government to follow those loopholes so they can continue their criminal ways. Thankfully, as a Prince, I get to choose whether I follow the letter or the spirit. We'll go with the latter."

Octave looks as if he disagrees. He's smart enough not to interrupt.

"Second, I don't like people who piss with Family." and his look encompasses both Scarlett and Heap. It is flat and focused, his Court face used for Family gatherings and against relatives far more skilled in reading subtle emotional markers than anyone in this room could hope to approach.

"There are two ways to piss with us. One is to threaten us...which usually leads to a violent response. The other is to try to manipulate us by feeding us a line and hoping that will get us to do something that benefits you. That invariably results in the same violent response, just a bit delayed.

"The accusation made is very serious, and I would prefer that it be dealt with quietly and avoid the usual violent response that is Family custom. Failing that, then I'll provide the customary example and we'll have a bloody spot on the floor before I leave here to make my report to the Crown."

Heap turns pale and looks as if he's going to faint.

He looks at Scarlett. "We'll begin with the accusation. Please repeat it for the accused to hear."

She looks at Heap and grins. It's the grin of a very pretty woman who is about to make someone very unhappy.

"Not much to tell. Heap here, he sent his bully boys to threaten me and my boy, They said they'd burn me out and sell Max to the Paresh if I didn't cut 'em back in on the deal after they went and screwed it up by running the cock-ring here."

"I did no such thing!," interrupts Heap. He appeals directly to Jerod. "I don't know what she's talking about, your highness. I am a good citizen and a servant of the crown!" He's lying, definitely about not knowing about it.

Jerod does nothing physical beyond a look at Heap. It is bland, court like, and yet conveys without a doubt that Jerod...simply...doesn't...believe him.

Octave puts a hand on Heap's shoulder. "Let the Prince ask his questions, Heap. You'll have your chance." Heap's face goes from a pleading look back to scared.

"Mmm, the incident with the cockatrice...the one that has Lady Robin in a bad mood." Jerod says blandly. "We'll have to see if she's calmed down once she's done with Grimey...or if she's still looking for someone to hurt."

He continues with a question for Scarlett, still keeping everyone in view. "Who did Heap send and what deal were you to bring him back into?"

Her smile is no less vindictive. "Grimey, for muscle. Two of his printer-lads. They didn't give their names, but I recognized 'em. They threw 'is name around freely."

Heap can't keep quiet, despite Octave's best effort. "They're liars! My Lord, sometimes our boss or her boss give the boys orders directly! I never told them to threaten the boy!" Jerod gets the impression that Octave may be about to write off the ex-Printer. However, the letter of the truth may be that Heap didn't give that exact order in so many words. Or at least he's convinced himself that he didn't.

Jerod notes Heap's argument as a valid one, though as with all things, a smart criminal would make sure never to deliberately say what they want done, only to imply it and let the hired help take the fall. But he also makes note of Heap's comments concerning "our boss", looking at him for a second to ensure the words are registered before returning back to Scarlett.

"The deal." he says simply, bringing her back to the original question. "What did it involve? Specifically."

Scarlett waves her hand. "This place. Our shot at setting up a friendly den for the rich and important without interference from Red Mill or The Prince, with the advantage of being first and established if they came in later. They almost wrecked it all with their stupid gambling den, which would never have attracted the people we want to serve. Heap thought he could bully his way back in after I cut him out with the Lord Mayor's approval after their stupidity. He was counting on his influence with my backer, Lord Lucas."

She turns to Heap. "The Late Lord Lucas."

Heap shrieks, but stifles it by sticking his hand in his mouth. It's also news to Octave, but he seems more inclined to use it than to faint.

Jerod smiles thinly when he looks at Heap and Octave. "Yes, I'm afraid Lord Lucas is no more. I was one of his pall-bearers in King Corwin's Paris...an exceptional funeral you'll understand. I understand Princess Florimel is understandably...angry. And the rest of the Family has been taking their own interest as well. Someone killing Family, you know...not at all acceptable."

He looks over at Kitten. "You know Grimey. Scarlett has said that Grimey indicated her son Max would be sold to the Paresh. Heap has indicated he gave no such orders...that Grimey and his men made up the threat. My question to you...did Grimey know who the Paresh were, and would he have known enough to offer such a threat on his own?" and he raises his finger as he looks at Kitten. "Oh, and uh...don't think that lying would be good...for either of you."

Kitten says "No, he would not. If he was with them it was as muscle. He was never a talker and he used to only join things I told him to and I don't know what a parish is, so I don't believe it."

Scarlett clears her throat. "Your Grace, I need to correct myself. Grimey said 'Hur, hur, hur.' It was one of the printers who said that about Max."

Octave looks pained. "Heap, those lads, they weren't really working for you, were they? You were just passing along information that you believed was for Lord Lucas, correct?"

Heap nods, weakly.

"Flannel." Jerod says. "Who worked for Heap? In any capacity."

Flannel purses his lips for a moment. "It's not like on a ship, My Lord, with direct lines of command well established. The great man hired me and told me he'd send orders via Heap. I brought my crew, which included a number of men who are now sailors and Kitten here. Kitten brought in his brother. Heap gave us things to do. Sometimes Lord Lucas' fancy-woman was with Heap; we thought she was passing 'is orders along. Probably was, for the most part, although she might've been playing Heap for a fool."

He takes a big breath. "So the short answer is 'we all was'."

Jerod nods once, looking at Heap.

"His majesty and I recently had a conversation that revolved around personal accountability. I actually rather enjoyed it...it helped to clarify our relationship significantly. Suffice to say it is important to remember that it is not always what you say that can be a problem, though that can certainly be an issue...but more important what you intend...and your own accountability when you choose to set events into motion. I'm sure Sir Octave here would be more than eager to argue the finer points of minutiea concerning whether the words you spoke to your various underlings involved specific words, certain tonal qualities, or the general abilities of those underlings to understand various instructions. I'm not.

"I'm more interested in your accountability and intent. I don't care if you didn't give someone specific instructions...if you put them on a path that would cause grief, then whether you ordered a specific action or not is irrelevant. A chain of events occurred and I want the one who started it...flunkies are irrelevant...they can be bought, sold or tossed as needed...sometimes they even come to work for you if they're smart. Flunkies don't interest me...only the big dog. They're smart...they adapt...and they're useful.

"So now, it's your turn to speak." and he slowly points a finger at Heap. "You...not Octave. I want to know...are you a flunky or a big dog. And whether you've figured out you've run into a bigger dog."

Heap looks towards Octave, who seems to be studiously ignoring him. He swallows. "I have been played for a fool, it seems. My Lord, Silken, the mistress of Lord Lucas, has deceived me greatly and I repent my transgressions. Forgive me! I did nothing but the bidding of Lord Lucas, even when it hurt my businesses. He would always take care of loyal Heap, he would. She sent me here, told me that Scarlett was a threat to his Lordship, and I was to take care of it for her! I would never have hurt the family of my Patron."

He reaches up, grabbing at Jerod's hand. "I see it now, she has his other bastard, she wasn't doing his will, she was eliminating a rival. My Lord, she used me, and put me across your path to get killed. I am a loyal subject of his majesty!"

Octave clears his throat. "My Lord, it is clear that my client wishes to turn Crown's Evidence in exchange for forgiveness of his transgressions. As you say, the big dog is not in this room."

Jerod is silent as he looks at Heap, looking for the signs, past the desperation and the fear that make one say anything that may save their life. Within the fear and desperation, there is the sound of truth to be heard, the conviction of right in what that person knows to be true, if one knows what to listen for.

And Jerod listens.

Heap rushes to fill the silence with the sound of his own voice. "Yes, my Lord. I swear on the grave of my dear mother that Silken was the one. She told me to back Scarlett, and sent me here to take control after my men botched things! It was her trying to get rid of a rival. I was tricked, she was out for herself, not doing what his Lordship ordered. I will testify, if that's what it takes. I swear, on my mother, that I am a loyal man!"

Heap is desperate, and would probably say anything to save his life. He certainly believes the story he's telling now.

Scarlett snorts. "Get what you want from 'im before you do any favors for 'im. His loyalty is cheap."

Heap looks at Jerod. "I am not who you want, and I have given you all I know. May I go, please?"

"No, you're not who I want." Jerod says, in response to Heap's question. "And no, you may not go...yet."

"I think we can reach the conclusion that the specific conflict between you and Heap is resolved." Jerod says, looking at Scarlett, then back to Heap. "I'm sure that you will be undertaking to inform all of your...men...the consequences of continuing to pursue that avenue of behaviour."

Scarlett looks happily on.

"However, there is still the matter of your actions up to this point, and those require a response. Now, back when my father was king, I suspect my choices would have been between either taking you to a cell with a package of sharp implements, or dragging you through the streets in penury before being tossed into the dungeon for twenty years. Dad's rule always did make for tricky choices.

"In this case though, I am reminded once more of my conversation with the King and how he has impressed me with his bold vision. A new kingdom, new opportunities, a chance to start over fresh...for those with the mind and will to do so. So impressed in fact that I'm going to be generous, and give you a nudge on the path to a better future." Jerod says, giving Heap a moment...just a moment, to register this.

"You're going to return to Silken and inform her that this rivalry ends." he begins. His tone is flat and calm and not threatening, but there is no doubt that refusal is not an option for Heap. To call them tasks might be a good word, though penance might be better.

"You will impress upon her that should anything happen to Scarlett or Max, I will take steps to deal with her, regardless of whether the evidence points to her. She is also to meet with me at my earliest convenience and bring her offspring with her. That...is not a request.

"Prior to meeting with Silken, you will detail to me all of Lord Lucas' activities in Amber and elsewhere since the time of the Sundering. I want to know who he was sleeping with, what children he sired, who kept his books and his business interests, who provided his intelligence and blackmail material, his friends and his enemies. What personal agents did he run, and who was he interested in learning more about. You will also provide me with a complete listing of all your people in Xanadu and Amber.

"Those will go to the Crown Prince and the King. After all that is done...then we can see if you are still interested in being loyal to the Crown, or striking out on your own."

He looks at Octave. "Assuming he meets with these requirements, then forgiveness for his transgressions will be provided."

Heap doesn't wait to start grovelling. "I will do whatever you say, your Lordship. Very kind and just you are to poor deceived Heap! I will make amends, and perhaps you could use my help going forward. Send me back to Amber and I will dea -- deliver your message to Silken." He practically spits out the woman's name.

Octave looks on impassively. "May I suggest to your Lordship that we seal these proceedings? Even under informal jurisprudence, it would be a risk to my client's standing in Xanadu if it were to be intimated that he threatened Arson to an establishment in the city."

Scarlett looks as if she may object to protecting Heap's reputation, but holds her tongue, waiting for Jerod's response.

"Of course." Jerod replies. "The protection of one's reputation is quite important...for a loyal servant of the Crown."

Octave nods. "As a settlement agreement, it does give my client an incentive to keep his side of the bargain, yes. Shall I have my clerks write something up for your approval, Your Lordship? I think a ship sails for Amber on Thirdsday, so I will have a few days to get things in order."

Heap seems willing to sign or do anything, but at this point, he's attached his hopes to Octave again, who seems to be advocating for him.

"One day." Jerod says, not wanting to give Octave too much time to call in favors or to warn others who Heap might be ratting out. "I have a duty to the King that requires my attention shortly and it will not be delayed. Heap can provide the details I requested on Lord Lucas' activities while you do up the agreement."

Octave smiles and, upon receiving parchment, ink, and quill from Scarlett's staff, sits down to write.

The picture of Lord Lucas' activities that emerges is one of a promising minion who was unjustly thrust to the side by the Master's new girlfriend, who turned him to her own twisted purposes. An alternate theory might be that Heap made a mistake and lost Lucas' trust.

Prudenter's tobacconist shop was the old spot for getting instructions and giving reports, until the accident. After that it all went to Silken, who actually read messages sent to Lord Lucas.

Lucas was active in his spying affairs, recruiting men himself, or through Silken or Prudenter. Men like Heap, who then recruited their own men to do the work.

The work was simple. Keep tabs on things and make sure Lord Lucas knew everything.

Sometimes things were done, but not by him or his. As a printer, his job was to know things about Printing. Lucas, for instance, knew who wrote anonymous pamphlets while others were merely speculating about them. Sometimes Lord Lucas and his men acted to fix things because he did not want to let on to his peers how he knew all the things he learned.

In Heap's telling he was important, then was displaced, and never did anything except work for Amber.

Scarlett doesn't seem to think Heap is being accurate, but she doesn't say anything.

Jerod is careful to listen and wait, then picks apart Heap's details as needed, especially given his own knowledge of what happened with the Sundering. He would have been surprised indeed if Heap were not the centre of the universe in his tale, the poor downtrodden servant cruelly used by the more treacherous of the world...Jerod's heard it before and his expression is as bland as needed to convey the necessary disbelief.

More to the situation, Jerod works to verify the structure of Lucas' intelligence network as Heap describes it. He is uninterested in the low level flunkies per se (hired muscle), though he will remember them if they are mentioned, for future reference. The facilitators under Lucas such as Silken and Prudenter are the types Jerod is more interested in, and now mostly Silken.

He does not question Scarlett as yet...there will be opportunities to go that route once Heap is on his way.

Once Jerod thinks he has plumbed the depths of Heap (shallow though they are), then it will be time to move on.

Heap turns over all the information Jerod wants about Lucas' organization, which is suffering from both its beheading and the stress of trying to move to Xanadu. Heap is probably more guilty than he admits, but it's hard to tell what was a bluff since his play was broken up.

As the final details are verified, Jerod will make various internal notes to himself. As an asset, Heap is not really worth the effort of keeping, though he does have a particular use to Jerod with regards to being an example of what happens when you try to play off the name of a dead Family member, and Jerod is never one to throw away something that has a use...even when he's sorely tempted.

"That should be all for now Heap." Jerod says. "You know your next task of course. I will expect you to complete that with all due haste, and due diligence. Once it is completed, you are to submit your report to me immediately upon your return. Should I not be available, you may submit it in writing to the Lady Carina at the castle."

"Yes, your Lordship. That's very kind and only fair of your Lordship."

Octave looks up. He offers a document to Jerod for review. It is an order, from Prince Jerod, acting for the Kingdom of Xanadu, to Printer Heap, requiring him to provide diverse information to the Prince and to act as the Prince directs as befits a loyal citizen of Xanadu. It requires that the witnesses thereto be forever silent as to the circumstances leading to this order and state that Prince Jerod will also be publically silent so long as all parties keep their part of the contract. It also provides that the contract may only be nullified at the pleasure of the King.

It's pretty good, and reads like a legal document.

Scarlett smiles at Heap. "Anyone you need to send message to, such as 'leave Scarlett and her boy alone'? Even if they're independent of your control."

"It's covered." Jerod says simply, referencing the relevant piece on "the Prince directs" being sufficient to cover anything that Jerod decides covers loyal behaviour. Once he is done reading it, he turns it around for Heap to read and to sign.

Heap, being a printer, is a literate man, which makes him more educated than most in Amber. He reads the document and looks at Octave. Octave nods, and Heap signs.

Heap smiles, greasily. "I will make arrangements to travel to Amber at once, your Lordship. Very kind you have been to let Heap correct the perfidy of his former employees. Very kind indeed, your Lordship is. Shall I go?"

Neither Octave nor Scarlett nor Flannel seems impressed with Heap at this moment.

"Yes...perfidy..." Jerod says, a drawl applying to the last word that makes it clear where he thinks perfidy might find a home to roost. "Proceed at once. And don't forget the messages."

Once Heap is moved out of ear shot, Jerod says to Octave. "Sir Octave. The Crown thanks you for your assistance. I shall be sure that the King is apprised of this."