At first, it's easy. The resistance starts slowly, like walking into a current. It grows, and the blue-green sparks grow with it. The resistance is physical, but in so many ways the real obstacles are mental. Anyone can push their physical limits, but beating one's inner demons is a true challenge. The second walk looks to be no easier than the first.
"Of course, I would be your first obstacle, Mistress Ourhope. When last we met your brother was on your leash and here you are, Starfish." The word sounds grotesque in Huon's voice. It sounds less like the man himself than like Celina's mental image of how such a man should sound. His voice is all eels and spite, like Loreena's.
The term of endearment in Huon's mouth infuriates her.
"Are you strong enough not to look back, child of my brother? If she falters, can you let her die alone while you continue along, unstopping?
"What if you falter? Will she kill herself trying to save you?"
Celina rounds a curve and she sees the man himself, or her mental picture of him. He's looking behind her, where Khela ought to be.
Celina briefly considers a run at Huon. She can picture it. Step, spark, spark, step. Stab through the heart. Her mind also supplies the explosion of catastrophe on the Pattern as blood streams down through his clothes. Her pace increases even as another part of her underthought considers other options for hurting him badly.
Even a vision can be throttled. It will feel so gooooood. This is all inside my head. So is he my fear of older Family?
"What if you realize those are the questions of a coward? Oh, wait. You already know you are a coward. That's why you design death traps based on torturing family that has done you no wrong."
"You carried yourself well to begin with, Huon." Her steady patternwalk motion blends readiness for TaKhi combat as she purrs, "Now perhaps I am less impressed." She closes to take him.
Step, spark, spark, step. Huon just stands there mocking her, not moving as she approaches. Her hands reach up and her thumbs target his unprotected windpipe and jugular.
And they go right through. And the resistance at her feet lessens as she passes through the veil.
But, but, but Celina goes off balance, too much of her attention on fighting through to her hated uncle and not enough on where she is placing her feet. She trips, and looks back and sees only a small cord of sparks still connecting her foot to the pattern. In that slow motion way that happens, she sees herself falling and knows there's no way to come down without her foot going off the pattern.
It seems unlikely Celina will have a chance to regret her lack of concentration for long, when she feels a strong tug at her waist. A familiar hand has adjusted her TaKhi stance and Celina can continue.
"Move," says Khela. "Fight ... Fight the demons in your head in your head, Starfish." She looks hard pressed, and the sparks around the two of them are higher than they should be after no more than one veil.
Celina nods once to Khela's comment. The shocks under her feet feel too strong for this distance into the Design. Khela looks tired. Nothing is the same as last time. Maybe it never is and that's why they don't walk it.
'Demons inside my head but the body is not just an anchor to the Pattern. Or? Is the Pattern more real inside my head? No. TaKhi. The will and the body are one.'
Celina moves forward sucking in a breath at the power crawling under the balls of her feet. Step. Curving. Step. Waves of force. Sparks now climbing above the waist. Curve. Step. Sparks. Resistance coming on. The next Veil. Step. Crackle. Step.
There's a swish of water above Celina's head and she looks up as something passes overhead. It's Conner and Brennan, shouting at her.
"Celina, something's wrong! You can't both be here. The Pattern breaks ahead, like we're in Amber! You have to get off now!" shouts Conner.
"Jump, we'll catch you!," adds Brennan.
"No." Celina says, reorienting on the Pattern before her. "We discussed this. You cannot do this for me. Thank you and go away. I can only do it well alone." And hope that it makes a difference to Khela in following.
For she has ever been there with a guiding hand. Let her win through because she must follow me to safety.
Ossian reaches for her and Brennan holds him and it looks as if he's trumping someone, and then three people disappear as if by trump, but without the rainbow lights. If there were any they were lost in the sparks.
She moves forward finding sparks of different flavors on her tongue and crawling her nerves. Inside. Outside. The Pattern seems to be vibrating under her feet and there is a low sound she's never heard before. It isn't music. The room might be vibrating. She pushes forward.
The sparks stay high, but the difficulty seems about as it should, which is to say asymptotically approaching impossibility. The pattern does what it does best, which is evoke memories. Moire's court, at the cool of ebb-tide when Celina was first come to the palace. Ladies who knew she was a rival before she ever did herself. The first time she spoke to a triton, and the first time one spoke to her.
The smell of essential oils in warm water, and the sound of currents running over coral.
Celina turns onto a particularly tricky part and sees someone. A stranger. The girl has honey-blonde hair and it's so tightly made up into a bun that it doesn't move, even in the water. She dresses expensively, or someone dresses her that way. She's on the edge of adulthood, but only the edge.
"I had to come back and ask, here, before it all happens. If you could, who would you choose as your heir?" Celina continues to move. Always moving on the path. Inside. Sparks. She knows this is the Art of doing everything well. She does not need to study the girl closely as the girl is presented fully in her mind. Outside. Sparks. The Pattern room vibrating. The question the lovely asks is one that has occurred to her since the near fatality but hours, minutes, ago when she met the First Veil. So she has an answer.
"You do not command here. This is my walk." Celina smiles through the sparks dancing on her teeth. "Question for a question then, visitor. Who are you to stand here at the center and question me?"
"Well, if I get this right, I'll be the first true Queen of Rebma since Moins, so it's kinda my Patternwalk too, but only in a quantum sense, since my timeline is purely theoretical from your point of view. I might never come here at all, and really you have everything to do with it, Your Majesty." She turns and Celina can see a red gem hanging from a chain on her neck.
"I go by Lark, which my Grandfather says is short for 'Lark In the Morning', but my parents call me Lorelei." She smiles and says, "a question for a question, you said?"
Blonde. Lovely. Crimson jewel. Xanadu? Random? Grandfather? "Lark, a splendid name." Celina discards further puzzles but keeps her attention on the next step. Then the next. If a quantum lark permits future family to view past walks, that is a very handy thing to know. If Celina gets to have an heir...a future...well, that is special. The sparks seem much more intimate of a sudden. "My heir is of my flesh, Lark. First born daughter." Celina's mind skips several layers of oral history and briefly considers Khela and the rahadlakum. But Celina would know if that myth could have any meaning to herself. Certainly. "You don't seem Rebman, Lark. Are you of my blood?" Celina moves ever closer to the blonde. Pushing always forward.
Lark shakes her head. "I am not and there is no such option, Your Majesty. My father's mother was your sister, who died long ago. There are other lines of descent from your grandmother, but there are complications in each. If you cannot be succeeded by an heir of your body, what would you wish of the next Queen?"
"There is beauty, art and love beneath the seas. It should not be swept away by the loss of Moins or the machinations of princes. The next Queen should find the truth of that beauty and hold it."
Lorelei laughs. "If I'd wanted clear answers, I'd've asked a clearer question. One last one, and I really hope you can answer it. Why couldn't Khela walk the pattern? What was different about her?"
Celina stares down her fears and the question stares back. She doesn't let anger wash into her voice as she answers. "We are all different little Lark. Khela walks. She walks for herself and Rebma and me. Khela is a survivor. As am I." Unlikely, but Celina feels some tenderness for this apparition. She pushes forward on the Pattern path, raising a hand in blessing.
"From what you know, can I move from the center of this Pattern to the Jewel of this Pattern because the two are connected?" The sparks seem to infiltrate her words and leap from her mouth.
Lark stops moving forward and sounds somewhat confused by the question. "The Jewel is zeroth, and this is second. You need to learn so much, so fast..." Her voice disappears and as Celina turns on the pattern, she is quickly lost to view.
"She's right, you don't know nearly enough to take on the mantle." It's Moire. "I regret I was not able to teach you more fast enough. And that I let that happen." She looks over Celina's shoulder, presumably where Khela is walking. "Come to me, I'll explain."
"You regret. You let. And now you'll explain." Celina bares her teeth. She finds more strength in the trials of her visions. "I'm doing this for Khela and Rebma, mother. I don't need you to explain now. I'm coming through." Celina moves forward grimly and energized anew. She looks Moire over for any sign of the Jewel on her person or by omission. If Moire's hands are not in clearly in view...Celina will be ready for an attack. "Where is the jewel?"
Moire laughs, unkindly. "What price would you pay to get it back? You owe me, not the other way around."
There's nothing that obviously looks like a jewel on her, and few places to hide one in her current costume.
"I owe you much." Celina lets her words stand simple and cleanly enunciated. There are indeed two sides to Moire. Her own existence due to whatever plan and all the lies that created the world Celina grew up in. "What price have you paid to keep Rebma? Now that you carried the price this far, are you ready to give it over for me to carry for a while..... even untrained by your regrets? Have you exhausted yourself?" Celina presses closer still to Moire. For this small series of steps things have been clear and her tread sure. Resistance comes again, seeking to hold her back.
Celina knows there is only forward to the center.
There is only forward and only Celina and only steps and resistance. The pattern is an ordeal to walk, possibly harder than the last time. Either that or time has dimmed her memory of the actual event.
In the end, there is only willpower, and Celina feels like a dot moving along a glowing line propelled by her will. It is enough.
She breaks through the fourth and final veil and finds herself standing in the center, free to go wherever she wishes.
She is alone in the center.
Celina fell to her knees in her first walk and that memory keeps her upright now. The Pattern she has walked now is fiercer if not stronger. A touch of wild in everything she just saw. She turns slowly, looking back to see Khela. Her hands are clenched.
Khela is not on the pattern.
As the girls take their first steps onto the Pattern, Conner looks over to Brennan. "If it is any consolation, I was also going to walk the Pattern today but," Conner holds up his bandaged hand. "I think I will be waiting a day. No point in risking any stray drops."
Conner's bandaged hand doesn't seem to actually be bleeding under the dressing.
"As was I," Brennan bites the words off. He never looks away from the activity on the Pattern "As the last part of assaying for damage, not the first. And neither you nor I is a queen or an heir, either." Like many men, Brennan expresses worry through anger. "I begin to understand Benedict and Corwin."
"My condolences." Conner murmurs. He watches his cousins for a few moments in silence. "So, where were you even thinking to start with this audacious task you have set for yourself?" Conner inquires. "Was your planned Pattern walk intended to start you on your way?"
On the great pattern, the lines of curves are brightly blue-green. This early in a pattern walk, the sparks are not obscuring the women as they move through the family's secret dance.
When the various twists and turns of the device on the floor allow it, Brennan and Conner can even see their faces. Celina looks angry and Khela looks tired, but determined. They press on and move away from the pair of redheads.
"Maybe," Brennan replies. He's still watching the activity on the Pattern with the intensity of a hawk.
After a moment, he adds, "Not to be intentionally coy. There are a lot of unsolved problems in this endeavor. It's not like I'm going to borrow the Jewel of Judgement until I can convince Random and whatever peer review board he sets up that I'm going to do more good than harm. If even then.
"What I would liked to have done is proven analytically that this Pattern is either functional or not, and then stuck around long enough to learn something of Mirror Lore from Khela and Celina. But Celina was right-- it's not clear to me that I have the expertise to just do that," he moves his hands in what would be an airy gesture if they were above the water, "by inspection. And so what I foresaw was taking the final risk myself in a day or a week.
"And then," Brennan continues, "given that I saw a walk in my future, thoughts did naturally turn to the question of how best to use the side effect. There's a place I'd like to see-- this Avalon of Benedict's-- and people I'd like to speak with-- Weyland being at the top of that list."
As Brennan talks, his eyes never leave Khela and Celina. Knowing it might be painful, and suspecting it won't be terribly useful, he still opens his senses as much as he can tolerate. Not only the third eye, but in deference to a conversation with Folly not long ago, as much of a third ear as he can manage... without deafening himself to Conner's conversation.
"Should you find Weyland, Bleys owes him a punch to the nose." Conner comments. "For my part, I intended to walk the Pattern simply because it seemed wrong for one bound to the Pattern blade of Rebma to have never walked the Pattern of Rebma. My thoughts too turned to those of travel. To find things about dragons perhaps." Conner is silent for a moment.
"Bookmark that," Brennan says into the lapse-- he wants to return to the topic, but for the moment lets Conner question him.
"Considering you goal, I am surprised that Weyland is above Master Dworkin of your list of conversational partners. What do you hope to learn from the Smith?"
"What makes you think I haven't already spoken to Dworkin? It was a conversation with Dworkin convinced me the thing was possible. But while Dworkin is a master artist, Weyland is a master maker, and any good maker knows something about repairs. He also knows things that no one else knows-- how to bind the essence of a Pattern into an object. There is an element of Pattern craft there not seen anywhere else. If there is a technique, he is a good lead for insight. If there is a tool needed, there are none better to make it.
"I was ready to serve a turn at his forge, last I spoke with him. But we were interrupted." Brennan says.
Conner looks surprised. "You have actually spoken with Weyland? When was this?"
Brennan seems faintly surprised thst Conner didn't know about it-- it wasn't exactly a secret. "About the time Marius, Lilly and I brought Signy with us into the Family," he says. "We did not discuss the restoration of a Pattern. I wasn't and in some respects still am not ready to speak openly of it. But we spoke of the remaking of a blade, by which I learned that he does have the engineer's eye for repairs. One difficulty lies in truly remaking it-- blade or Pattern--rather than just making something new out of the old material. And in making it as strong as it once was.But Oberon seems to have managed it."
"Seems being the operative word." Conner sighs. "It reminds me of a story where the power was turned off for a universe because of lack of funding. After a last ditch effort restored the funding, they checked the universe for any damage. They reported that the universe had lost one third of its density but since all the tools for measuring density in that universe had also lost one third of their density, the inhabitants would never notice a thing. I think on that story more and more of late. What has changed that we can't see, and who from without has the perspective we need."
"We all carry the essence of the Pattern in us," Brennan says. "In a significant sense, we are our own touchstones against the universe. If Oberon didn't effect a perfect repair, it was close enough for government work. So I have some hope that Amber's can be remade to the same degree."
Just past the Grand Curve, something happens. Celina falters. The two Clarissans know, by the pattern in their every cell and by their own experience, that she mis-stepped, an error which could doom her. What happens next may be unprecedented. Khela catches up to her and literally catches her. The sparks, which were waist high, now reach above both women's heads.
The lump of sparks continues moving, far brighter than the pattern should be just past the first veil.
Walking the pattern, redheads were taught, is a physical expression of the solution to the equation of the universe for an individual at a known place and time. Even two individuals on the same pattern should reduce to two solutions separated by at least some time.
There's no equation that Fiona or Bleys ever mentioned that solves for 'X' and 'Y'.
As Celina stumbles, Brennan makes ready to shout something to her or to Khela, but Khela's movement pre-empts it. He doesn't know whether to be fascinated or horrified, so he has to manage both at the same time. "How... was that possible? They're not the same person."
Brennan is not Vere, but he sets himself to remembering every nuance and detail of this, for later thought.
"They weren't." Conner whispers. "Now I'm not so sure. One way or another I sense many equations in need of revision." Conner also focuses on recording this in his mind. The familiar mental exercise tamps down the rising panic. "The sparks should not be so high." Conner's voice catches in his throat and he swallows hard. "There is nothing we can do to help them, is there?" Conner asks. There is no smile upon his face.
"Not a thing," Brennan says. "Not a godammed thing. One of the things the Pattern does is enforce separations-- this Shadow, that Shadow. This place, that place. This moment, that moment. This person" he slaps his hand against his chest, "that person" he grabs Conner's arm to emphasize. The price our solidity is our solitude and that should not have happened!"
Despite that, Brennan's muscles are tense. The urge is to go there, do something, help. Even though there's nothing to be done.
Conner's hand tightens around Halosydne's hilt as Brennan confirms what he already knew. He is silent a moment longer and then frowns. "Should we Trump Aunt Llewella," he asks. "or Corwin?"
Brennan forces a shrug. "And say what, exactly?" he asks. But Conner has a point. And Conner's the diplomat. Brennan's going to leave it-- the decision, at least-- to Conner's judgement, and follow his lead.
The oval-ish, high-sparking blob of light continues towards the third veil.
Conner draws forth a Trump of Llewella but does not do more than look at it. "I don't know." He says at last and puts the Trump away. "There are no words for this."
"I don't have a Trump of either of them," Brennan says. "And all we can do is offer a chance to watch. But if you make the call, I'll stand with you through it.
"I don't understand what I'm seeing," he says. "That just shouldn't be possible." But once a Redhead, always a Redhead-- Brennan's mind is still spinning out all the edge cases, all the cases that would approach what they just saw. "That could imply that they're the same person... but then I don't think they'd be able to walk separately. The Pattern could be degraded, no longer taking variables into account, that would allow for identical solutions." He frowns, "Not unlike being in two places at the same time. One of them could be missing a variable."
Then the thought occurs: "Could one... sacrifice, fix a variable, in the attempt to help someone else?"
"In the simplest of two variable systems, the solution requires either solving for one variable in terms of the other," Conner pauses and then finishes, "or by eliminating one of the variables from the system. I don't like the implications of either when the variables are Khela and Celina."
"No," Brennan says, "Neither do I. Mathematical parlor tricks aside, we're talking about real people, the point being that you cannot solve for one entirely in terms of the other."
The oval still moves along the path, like a pantomime horse made of blue-green light. It reflects off the sword in Conner's hand. Near the front of it, there's a bright white spot, like a nova in a nebula.
If there are four veils, the blob has reached the third.
"Not entirely," Conner agrees. "but there is theoretically no reason why two otherwise divergent functions could not have a point of intersection." Conner watches the reflections on the Paxblade for a moment. "It is comforting to speak of this in terms of math. It makes it feel cold, clinical and solvable instead the messy personal trial that it is."
Brennan is not convinced: "If they intersect for a moment, I believe that's as good as saying they're the same person... for a moment. Which is more a Chaotic condition than an Ordered one. Being in Trump contact is the closest I can think of to that condition, but that's not what this is. I'll be overjoyed to be wrong, though."
After a moment, he adds, "Random is going to need to be notified, too. Even in the happy event I'm wrong."
Conner nods. "The list of those to contact about this will either be very long or very short." Conner muses for a moment longer. "Were it not for the physical touch, I would like to posit this as two functions with a stretch asymptotic to each other. Practically identical but mathematically separate." Conner reaches into a pocket of his jacket and brings out a silver flask from which he takes a healthy pull. Conner offers the flask to Brennan if he is so inclined.
Brennan, unwilling to experiment in the mysteries of drinking from a flask underwater in such grave circumstances, declines.
The conversation dies out and the cousins watch the progress of the high-sparking area as it moves through the course of the pattern. It slows but does not stop when it reaches the veils, and eventually it reaches the center.
The sparks die down and the two men can see a figure in the center.
That's one more figure on the Pattern than Brennan was expecting to see when all was said and done. He tries to see far enough through the waters to tell who it is, but even if he can't, that doesn't stop him from calling urgently: "Here!! Over here!!" and waving broadly.
In times of great need, Brennan's ordinarily soft-spoken voice has been known to carry over fields of battle.
"Only one?" Conner moans. "Oh no." While Brennan waves and calls, Conner steps forward as close as he can to try and see who survived.
Conner can, when he is close enough and his eyes have adjusted to the room without the lights from the sparks, see that it is indeed Celina at the center.
Alone.
Celina quivers without as fires burn within. She notices how heavy the water is---heavy enough that breathing is suddenly labored. Her heart beats faster as her lungs slow down. Inner pumping strains as her blood is heavier too. The room of shadows now stamps into her thoughts and bones. Blood and shadows and pain.
Dizzy. She blinks. The lightheaded moment passes.
Khela dead. Obliterated without even a defiant ripple.
"My error at the veil." Celina mutters, her voice so low and her tongue heavy. "She spoke to me after my misstep. She was there." Pain and razorbites run up her arm from the hand that held the Dream Jewel. A racing Grand Curve of Pain running from her hand to her heart, through a veil there, circling her lungs, lacerating upward and building into a scream of loss clawing up her throat, passing veils of honor, childhood and lust.
Celina bares her teeth to let the pain out with a Great Cry she hopes will shatter the shadows of the room. Crackling with sparks up it comes, the pain flashes right past her mouth moving decades in a blink and buries itself like a dagger in her lower imagination. She wobbles at the impact but makes no sound.
Then she hears a shout not her own. Her eyes track for the source. A figure waving. Conner? No, Brennan. Such a great welcoming call. Warm. He invites her to safety. Yes. That would be the next thing. Planning, not weeping.
The razorpain in her mind throbs. She sees something wicked there. She stands at the center of everything and can be anywhere. The girl wants to go throw her arms around Conner and Brennan. The Patternwalker sneers at that. "Brennan," Celina says, but the words are low and hoarse and cannot carry. Her voice breaks on pain. She swallows and cries to fill the cave but her low dark shout is still not her own and may never be hers again. "Brennan!" She waves with her good hand. "I'm sorry! Cannot set aside the chance to get the Jewel!"
She looks down at her razored hand; opens it palm up. She brings to mind the Jewel of Rebma. She sees the Jewel centered and dominating a place all soft focus, a center even deeper than the center she stands in. Celina knows she shall leap and hold that center. She wills herself there to grasp it.
Celina does not find herself in a new place. Her best theory is that the jewel is not a clear enough description of a place for the pattern to take her to it.
Even if he can't see her face, Brennan can tell Celina by her voice. But what she said is so wrong, on so many levels, Brennan barely knows where to start before she disappears-- if she does.
"Dammit, Celina, Rebma can't just set aside another Queen today, either! You have no heir! Who do you think that leaves?! This is not Sorcery-- there are rules, here, and they can KILL YOU just like Khela!" The briefest pause, then Brennan adds, "Answer this, before you go, if you can: When you have the Pattern take you somewhere, when you walk to somewhere in Shadow, what happens?"
What happens? Celina ponders that as she dismisses the dream image of the jewel from her pained hand.
The Seaward Lass raises her eyes to Conner and Brennan. Celina sighs. Rebma. Khela's heir. There is no Trump of Celina. If she were gone too long, things would certainly come undone. "What happens is things change, time bends. Returning to the center is more difficult and you do not know when you will intersect with what is Real again."
Khela is dead and now Rebma will try to kill her too. She cocks her head in the direction of her stalwarts.
There's a pause, and Conner is close enough to realize from it that that's not what Brennan meant. But Brennan continues, voice still raised so he can be heard, but no longer shouting: "Yeah. Things change. Time and Rebma will move forward, and can't be turned back again.
"Celina, you don't have to do this alone. I will help you-- our tasks aren't separate, but I would help you, anyway." Brennan glances at Conner, but doesn't want to speak for him. "But to help each other, let's at least figure out what it is we're going to do." Brennan holds a hand out.
Celina looks like she's about to say something. Or is she really too far away in the dark water? She folds her arms and looks directly at Conner.
"Your Majesty." Conner calls across the water in his best herald's voice. "The Queen, her Heir and Consort and two male retainers went down. If you leave via the Pattern and only the male retainers ascend with one bearing the Khela's sword, there are no diplomatic powers I possess that will prevent Rebma from collapsing into chaos while Brennan and I flee for our lives from Khela's supporters. Come to us. We must secure what we have before striking out into the unknown."
Celina nods once and then she is right above them, falling softly into Brennan and Conner with her arms open. She lands leaning on them both equally, holding them in her arms for a moment. Her face is pressed more into Conner's shoulder and she asks, "Do we secure Rebma? Or did we just lose its heart?"
Brennan's hand finds her shoulder and squeezes. "Celina, we thought we'd lost you, as well. I know you need to grieve, but... we're glad you're alive. And once we walk out that door," he glances at the door to the Pattern Chamber with the key stuck in the lock, "it may be a long time before any of us can speak in confidence or privacy."
"The Pattern is stronger than it was," Celina offers. She shrugs. For the first time, she considers what it must have been like to stand over here and think Khela and she both lost in the emerald sparks. Brennan has always unsettled her with his scent and hard eyes. He's too interesting on levels she isn't sure about. She smiles at Conner and finally slips back to standing firm on her own.
"Yes," Celina agrees. "So we must secure what we have. What do you recommend we do next?" She holds back on a very strange thought regards Khela's death but her emerald eyes look more troubled than sad.
"Starting with the mundane, I'd figure out a way to lock this place down tighter than it was before." Brennan gestures to include the entire chamber surrounding the Pattern. "What we do not need is anyone finding a way in to have a look around. And before that-- before we leave, actually-- I'm still going to take a look around for evidence of the events that Huon inflicted.
"Then, say anything we need to say that we might not want to say in front of anyone else. And then, get ready to face the tides. A lot of people need to get notified, and order and phrasing is important." Brennan looks to Conner for his expertise on that.
"The difficult thing will be explaining Khela's death when the Pattern is still something of a state secret." Conner comments. "Regardless of what we say, many of Khela's supporters will suspect us of complicity in her demise." Conner looks to Celina. "We must determine who among Khela's supporters are your supporters and fast."
Celina nods. She names a few families that Khela had said were solid support and continues, "This will be a shock. The Court enjoys Amber's influence at a distance, or in a manner that plays more one-sided. We do not want this to appear that two experienced Amber royals have subjected me to coercion, even if the Court assumes Khela's death is 'natural' as I shall report." She sighs. "The secret? Can we simply say she died for the good of Rebma? What she intended..." Celina's voice catches. She stops, swallows. "I think we need to talk to Llewella first and that may work with the state secret conversation as well. There may be no solution that the majority will accept. We will have civil war unless we are spot on with our diplomacy."
Brennan nods agreement to all of that, because it is all true. "I am not even going to pretend like I have a meaningful opinion on arrangements of nobility in Rebma, or what they will accept," he says. "I'd do more harm than good, anyway. But beyond this court, there are also the courts of Paris and Xanadu to consider. Kings Random and Corwin also need to be informed, directly and just about immediately-- Random as head of Family, Corwin as nearest neighbor. It's not the sort of thing they'd appreciate learning second hand. And the story that they get told-- and by extension that the rest of the Family hears-- is going to have to have more details."
Brennan lets that statement drift in the water for a moment, then adds, "They're going to ask."
"Yet another memorial and family meeting perhaps." Conner sighs. "Regardless, you are right. I suspect once the monarchs are told the story will drift of its own accord." Conner brings his hand up and rubs his left temple. "The other important group to consider is the Tritons. If they stay loyal to Celina and the Paxblade, then most of Rebma will stay quiet out of concern for their own skins. It would give us breathing space." Conner turns to Celina. "Do you intend to free the Tritons as Khela did?"
Celina looks long at Conner in the face of his question. So much water and time and now back to this. "Rebma is changing in order to survive. The Tritons have told me I am their hope for the future. They asked me to learn and return. I don't want slaves, but I am willing to have sworn partners." She nods once. "Yes. I would free them." She sighs. "You two understand. I will never be Khela or do things she might have done. Maybe in a few centuries I'll know enough and be better at this."
Brennan gives Celina a long look when she and Conner begin discussing the freedom of the Tritons. It's obvious that he's choosing, rejecting, and choosing his words again carefully. "Doubtless you know what my advice is going to be for the moment, but I would be remiss if I didn't say it, here and now: I would advise you to delay that decision until you know more, and to avoid making promises. The pragmatic political reason is as Conner says: they are an asset you may not be able to do without in the short term. The pragmatic metaphysical reason is this: I don't think any of us know the consequences."
Brennan is obviously including himself in that statement, because he follows with, "But I am not a fan of wallowing in my own ignorance, or using that as an excuse to do nothing. It's my conviction that Rebma's troubles are at least influenced by the mirror-relationship with Amber, but I am certain you know much more of mirror magic than I do. It's your conviction that the Tritons can be freed safely, but I have direct experience with Sorcery and Chaos in general, and even some with Dragons. Why don't we make what time we can to start teaching each other what we know?"
"I think we're inviting you to be an honorary Redhead." Conner smiles slightly. "A pooling of politics and metaphysics would do us good, I agree."
"I feel most strangely blessed," Celina does a damn fine job of smiling. It would work better if she wasn't also trembling now. "So agreed. I think the place to tell Llewella the news is...here as it is safer than elsewhere and she may wish to ...cry."
Brennan nods, "Agreed. The last thing she needs to worry about now is how a divided, ambitious court will view her reaction. There's one more item of private business though," he says, almost apologetically. "Right now, only you two know about my plans for Amber. I believe only we three know Celina's intent for the Tritons. But everyone knows that Conner and I and possibly others are concerned about Rebma's Pattern.
"I would request that, for the moment, we not broadcast my intent to repair Amber's Pattern. I'm not going to do anything concrete until I know more-- much more-- because I am not a fool, but I'm not eager to have every Aunt and Uncle with an opinion pop up with reasons why I can't. Many of my thoughts for research and preliminaries, though, benefit Rebma as much as Amber. In fact, acting for Rebma provides a certain amount of cover. In return, of course, I'll share freely what I learn. Rebma is no less important to me than Amber." Brennan hesitates, then adds, "That said, I have in mind a few cousins I think might be interested and can be trusted for circumspection. I welcome suggestions for that list, now or later.
"For the present, though, one of us should stay here while Llewella is summoned. I don't like leaving this place alone without a lock on the door."
Conner draws forth a trump of Llewella. "No need for any of us to leave if we wish to have the conversation here." Returning to the earlier topic, Conner adds, "I will keep your plans secret, cousin, until you say otherwise."
Celina nods once agreeing to Brennan and Conner and their offers. She does not want to leave the chamber yet. She watches Conner, learning what she can of trump calling.
Though hoping for it, Conner did not really expect anyone to offer to call instead of him. Conner takes a deep swallow of water and then focuses upon the card. He offers his free hand for the others to grab if they wish to be part of the call.
Brennan recognizes Conner's gesture, and takes a guess at the intent behind Celina's attention. "Physical contact will bring you into the conversation," he murmurs to her. Despite that, he doesn't take Conner's hand, as he'll probably need that to bring Llewella through. He does put his hand on Conner's shoulder both in support and to be part of this extremely unpleasant situation.
Celina moves slightly to frame herself be looking at Llewella's card but able to see the door to the Pattern chamber. She likewise puts her hand on Conner's shoulder. A simple squeeze tells him she's ready.
"Who calls?" Llewella answers quickly. She seems anxious.
Celina meets the concerned gaze. Oh the pain. Her thoughts flash forward unknown decades and Celina is here again in the Pattern chamber poised with Lark and watching a dark-skinned daughter approach the Pattern. Life or death. She holds Conner a bit more firmly as nausea sweeps through her. She clamps down on her surreal imagination.
"It is Conner with Celina and Brennan." Conner manages to answer. "We are currently in the Pattern Chamber and we have news to share away from spying eyes and ears. Would you join us here?" Conner offers his hand for her to take.
Brennan has nothing to add, so he doesn't. But from his posture and expression, both of which may as well be carved out of marble, nothing about this is going to be good.
Llewella nods and speaks. "Meg, I must leave. Give my apologies to Hannah and I shall meet with you upon my return." She reaches out and takes Conner's hand.
If Brennan weren't keeping careful composure, he would raise an eyebrow at Meg's name.
"I was unaware the chamber had been opened, although I knew you all meant to try." She seems somewhat stone-faced, as if prepared for bad news. "Tell me of it."
One look at Llewella's face and Celina seizes on a number of points that may be yet her imagination, or may be a window into her mysterious aunt. Her eyes show soft surprise.
Once Llewella is through and settled, Brennan takes his hand off Conner's shoulder, but still stands with him. Since in some ways he enabled this tragedy, he takes the opportunity to speak first and at least set some context for the news.
"Yes," Brennan says. "You'll recall some of the concerns raised at the Family meeting regarding Rebma, the Pattern, and their integrity." He doesn't bother to repeat the list; Llewella was there. "As Conner and I came to Rebma, I conjured a key to the chamber, the better to make an examination. The conjury was successful." Brennan nods at the still open door.
Celina takes the moment that Brennan gives her. She keeps her hand firmly on Conner's shoulder because that makes it all a bit easier. "Llewella, the Pattern trial ended Khela," Celina's voice barely contains all the emotions that swirl around those words. She cannot just leave it there, even if she breaks down. "I did everything I could to no avail."
For once, Conner has no words. He merely nods mute confirmation of Celina's statement. His eyes try to convey the condolence his mouth cannot speak.
Llewella nods, stoneface still in place. "You couldn't have stopped her. We all knew it would kill her, but she couldn't be stopped. She didn't listen to me, she didn't listen to anyone. Just like Morganthe. Just like her." Her voice is controlled, but it's not hard to tell she's suppressing her emotions.
"So it is not just a matter of will and connection to family," Celina exerts more control as an emotional tempest builds around the images that Llewella conjures with her words. Celina recalls Khela's last words and her resolve stiffens. The tempest is still there, surging, but she contains it. "I only realize now you believed Benedict completely. It never occurred to me Khela had no chance."
It is perhaps just as well that Brennan had already composed his face out of respect for Llewella, and the shock and grief of losing a child. It is that much easier to keep the marble facade in place when Celina reveals that she had some inkling-- or more-- that Khela would be unable to walk the Pattern. He has nothing to say, for the moment, that would not make matters more painful for Llewella.
Conner has the urge to hug Aunt Llewella close and comfort her but does not dare take such a liberty. "I am so sorry for your loss, my Aunt." Conner says thickly. "I felt so sure..." Conner's voice drifts as he remembers his last words being the rightness of her walking now. Was it still true that this was right or needful? Conner feels ill and only the hands on his shoulders keep him from trying to turn away.
"Khela was persuasive, and headstrong. I let her be exiled or she would have followed Martin." She sighs, and the water swirls around her.
She sighs again and straightens. "The Queen died repairing the damage done to Rebma by her enemies. It was a noble sacrifice for the good of the realm. Do we agree?"
Celina chews her lip for a moment. "Agreed."
Conner nods. "Agreed. I shall of course expand and embellish as needed for public consumption."
"Of course," Brennan nods. "Much work remains, but she would have wished Rebma, and her people, to remain united and strong."
Then he lets the mask slip somewhat, steps forward and takes Llewella's hands gently in his. (If she lets him.) "Llewella... I know there is nothing can be said or done to make this right, again." Brennan may be a poor father, but for all that, he's still a parent. "But, if there is anything that you should need, never hesitate."
Celina quietly begins to cry. Because she is still touching Conner, he feels it when he cannot see it here. Something in the moment has set her off.
Conner reaches across his body and places his hand over Celina's on his shoulder. Conner looks at Brennan with approval and a little envy for having the strength to do what Conner merely thought about.
Llewella nods. "Thank you, Brennan. I appreciate it."
She turns to include Celina and Conner as well, her eyes lingering on the sword that Conner has. "Celina, we need to deal with the Kingdom now. We need to prevent this from becoming the start of a new civil war. Did Khela make arrangements for the succession?"
Celina continues on as if she is in complete control. "She made it public that I was her heir. Other than this, she maintained her focus that she would overcome other Obstacles." It is obvious that this suited Khela's approach to the Pattern by the amount of pride Celina puts into that last. "I believe she also spoke to certain factors privately as to their support for me. She did not leave those things to chance."
"Before Queen Khela started her walk, she knighted me and appointed me protector of the Rebma pattern and bearer of the sword." Conner adds. "I will swear my allegiance to Celina publicly of course."
Llewella nods. "As will I. We need to make sure that family is made aware and lines up behind you, and quickly. Hannah and Meg are here; I'll talk to them. Conner and Brennan, your Mother and Uncle. Celina, I think the Kings need to be your Trump. Who else, immediately?"
Brennan catches Celina's eye-- as he had a large role in this, he had thought to call Random himself. He doesn't make an issue of it, though.
"If possible, Martin," Brennan says. "I know he and Khela were at one time close. And the politics affect him and his family directly. I'm sure King Random will tell him immediately, but I'd not like to learn second hand in his place. Unfortunately, I have no way to do that."
"Neither do I," Celina says. She shows her empty hands to indicate further that she has no Trumps at all.
"The only trump I have is of you, my Aunt, and it was borrowed." Conner sighs. "I shall have to use one of yours.
Brennan does have a Bleys, which he begins to shuffle out. "Less immediately, given Benedict's standing in the Family, it may be wise to go to him in person. I was planning on going to Avalon, anyway."
"I think that I will also want to tell the Tritons myself," Celina looks to Llewella with an open question. "Considering all that I know up to this point. It would be Atrios rather than the Hierophant that I would speak with before the word travels very far. But Kings and Family first. Again, because of our privacy, here and now is a good time."
Conner nods in agreement. The list already compiled is complete.
"Yes, the Tritons. I'm sure they will have questions. Do that soon, because secrets we tell others will not keep long." Llewella pulls a sealed pouch from her belt and offers it to Celina. "My Trumps. Unless you can keep them dry sorcerously, you'll need to take them to a dry room to use them."
Celina immediately thinks of several suites in the palace that she has never had reason to use but were part of learning the galleries. She is surprised however that the Trumps are not so fixed as she assumed.
Brennan's fingers stop playing at the opening of his Trump case, thinking.
After a moment, he nods to Llewella, and says to everyone, "I think we all know this, but trying to keep them dry with Sorcery right here would be an exceptionally bad idea." He suppresses a shudder. Barely. "Conner, I have one of Fiona if you need it.
"But, Llewella, you should know that as we opened the Pattern chamber, the lock has now jammed open." Brennan nods at the door, again, then looks back directly at Llewella. "We can't leave the place alone, unsecured. If you wouldn't mind, I'll come back with some tools and see what we can do about it."
Brennan shrugs slightly-- no telling how long it would take to find what he needs without conjuring something.
Llewella's eyes narrow in thought. "The pattern chamber is ... a different kind of place, more attuned to the will of the Queen than to any physical circumstances. I don't know what that means, with the Queen being so new, but I think you may find it either surprisingly easy or surprisingly difficult to bar access."
Assuming she assents, Brennan begins to withdraw, waiting for Conner and Celina to come with him.
It isn't queenly but Celina moves to Llewella and hugs her now. It is a long hug and a goodbye to things that should have been.
Llewella pets Celina's hair down without speaking, in a gesture that is eerily reminiscent of Khela.
The quiet hold breaks. The four move quietly from the Pattern Chamber.
With assistance the heavy door is pushed closed.
Celina makes the attempt suggested by Llewella's speculation. She grasps the key and uses all her strength to secure the room.
[If the lock seems jammed...she will remember Moire asking for a hand in turning the key and ask Conner to help her. Perhaps there is something about pairs.]
The key turns easily in the lock.
It is a day of ....new things. Celina hands the key to Conner and they all ascend.
Last modified: 4 September 2011