The sun is about an hour into the sky before Edan stops Aramsham and turns to look at Paris behind them. The horse's saddlebags are full, as much as Edan could arrange, not because the trip to Xanadu would be terribly long, but because he doesn't want to concentrate very hard on finding food along the way. This won't be that kind of trip.
He reaches up to scratch a spot on Kyauta's wing, the affine inexplicably having taken the white dragonet form again. Edan smiles, bemused, noticing that their minds are close enough that he almost felt the itch on the wing himself.
We will have to go away a bit before we head back, he thinks. I want to move away from the influence of these Patterns and find a place of power so that I may contact her. He doesn't think he needs to specify the 'her'. I also want to build another Gate before we reach the forest and test its harmonics with the first. We will have to ride hard, Kyauta, and I doubt you've experienced a hellride. You must stay close.
I will, Great Lord. Is a hellride worse than The Her?
Edan grins, and it's just a little predatory. Not even close. "Ai, Aramsham! Let us ride!" And he lightly kicks the sides of his horse to get them going again.
An hour passes under Aramsham's fleet hooves along roads well-made for riding--well-packed dirt, maintained and raised above the fields to either side. The sun shines down, and the clouds never quite seem to become more than an occasional source of shade.
Edan reaches a goodly distance from Paris along the road leading towards the sea he visited by boat so recently, and feels he can begin to change. All around him is farmland, rolling hills divided by copses of trees or stone fences pulled painstakingly from the ground and used to define the space they were removed from. A few miles back it was forest, and the river isn't too far away. Somewhere nearby, if the signs mean anything, there is a village, but there are no people in sight.
Edan kicks again Aramsham's sides, feeling his horse move into a trot, then a canter, then a light gallop. For a few minutes, that's all they do; Aramsham warming up after a long rest in his stall, feeling the sheer pleasure of running, and Edan enjoying the wind on his face and the sensation of riding his champion horse while in perfect fit.
Edan only has to lean forward for Aramsham to break into full gallop. He leans back in the saddle after a few moments, wondering if his horse can handle this pace through a hellride, but Aramsham merely snorts and goes faster. Edan laughs, then, and leans forward a second time.
They race over a hill, and into a copse of trees; the road begins to weave a bit, but Edan hardly needs to touch the reins. Aramsham races around the obstacles, and Edan has to shift his weight from side to side to suit. Around one tree, and the grass takes on a bluish tinge; another, and the leaves are suddenly alive with the bright oranges and yellows of fall color. The sky stays with its greenish tinge, though the clouds begin to gather and darken.
They burst forth from the trees, past a sign that has a different shape and language than just a few minutes earlier. They pass the sign, and the trees behind them are gone, only stunted grass and bare scub oak. The wind is sharper here, and cold, a rare burning sensation against his skin. Edan leans down farther, and his horse speeds up again... hills now, a wall of clouds moving over a mountain chalet in the far distance, a building which expands and grows translucent as they ride... flowers spring from the ground, a lawn of violet leaves which Aramsham tramples, the road finally gone... over another hill, seeing a succession of hills and piedmont, the chalet turned into a glassy city of mist and ice, blowing away like smoke...
The storm finally comes, a white-blue flash, the sound of tearing linen, a dull boom which makes the ground tremble underneath them... Edan hears Aramsham's whinny, feels Kyauta's claws dig into his shoulder... the rain comes, black and warm and soulless and terrible... he grimaces, and they turn a corner... the clouds part and an ivory harvest moon squats over a nearby ridge, the clouds starting to break up... the rain turns to a deep red snow, melting on them like blood... he guides them into an arroyo, over a ridge and then down into a mix of rain and snow, purer now, washing them clean... the plants give way to gravel and bare rock, and the heat comes... lava springing up from holes in the ground, leaping from point to point, heading upwards to escape... Aramsham in a lather now, the smell of horsehair and sweat and fear... over another ridge, the lava gone, the rocky terrain shiny with minerals and wet with steam, the smell of sulfur and copper in the air, the sky dark... the snow becomes thicker, ice forming all around, fantastic wind-driven shapes, boulders like dark broken daggers springing forth from white, lacy ice... taller now, into the mountains, climbing, rock blotting out much of the sky... caves appear in the rock, large patches of bare, steaming rock in the snow, a lake of bubbling, acrid water nearby... a huge cave appears just ahead, a final shift to bring back the huge yellow moon, half eaten by the silhouettes of the mountain...
Draw rein.
Not far away, a twin mountain peak like bulls-horns casts a shadow in the bright moonlight across the steaming lake. The air is cold, painfully cold, but offset by the warmth of the bare rock under them and the fetid steam which blows their way across the water. There are many caves set in the mountains ringing the lake, some dark and empty, some showing the remnants of some long-forgotten construction. It is quiet, the only sound a faraway eagle screeching some hunter's cry. Ahead, there is a huge cave opening with an unmistakable violet color reflected from inside. Everything has a feeling of desolation, of abandonment, of time working its inexorable effect on rock and water and civilization. Yes, there are the signs; toolmarks on the rock, a pile of broken and petrified wood that might once have been a building, bones in a clearing that was once some cattle-like animal, and even the shadow of some huge skeleton in the water. Edan frowns; this place fits where he wanted to go, a place of power with strong moonlight, away from habitation, a place with strong ties to the elements, but he had not expected this. He urges his horse forward; they skirt perhaps a fifth of the lake before reaching the cave, where he draws one of his swords. Quietly, they continue inwards.
And then, immediately stop. "Ahhhh," Edan breathes. The cave is huge, almost unbelievable, even in this place of geothermal water and minerals. It is a geode, perhaps four hundred feet in diameter, where the bottom third is covered in rock and sand and the lower crystal sides have been worked into a natural ampitheater. Almost all of it is covered in amethyst, a deep violet color that practically yells at the eyes. Light is provided from holes above and an even larger, open rock chamber on the far side. This is a place where humans once coexisted with dragons, he thinks. Like what he had heard of Jovian. The seats are meant for humans, and there are eggs and the remnants of eggs and broken shells and bones in the sand, and the skeleton of a dragon, probably once the queen, stretched out along one side of the geode. Nor is it hard to see what brought about the ruin; a final, desperate battle took place here, a battle with humans and the queen against some nameless, amorphous creatures that had boiled through the same opening Edan and his company had just used. Where the dragon's fire had touched, the creatures had burned. Where the creatures had touched humans, and ultimately the dragon, only melted bone remained. The scene is ghastly, and Edan turns his horse back around to the outside and cleaner air.
It only takes a few minutes to find a small pool with melted snow, clean water for Aramsham to drink. He dismounts, then rubs down his horse while it drinks.
Kyauta, have a look around. I will need wood, or at least something flammable, for the contact to work. Did the hellride... hurt you?
I am well, Great Lord! I am happy to be away from the ordered taint. I will find you someone flammable to consume.
The little creature, still looking like a dragonet, takes to the sky.
Some thing flammable, Kyauta! Some thing!
For all the snow on the high meadow, the air is quite dry. Aramsham drinks quite a bit of the water, waiting for Kyauta to return.
Edan feels he is being watched, although there does not seem to be in immediate danger.
That... won't do. Edan spends the time making his horse comfortable and marking out a place where he thinks the contact spell will work best, a spot close to the water. "I know you're out there," he says eventually. "Come on out so that I can see you."
With a burst of sound that could herald an earthquake, the rocks of a hillside move. Two great stony arms appear and pull loose dirt and plants, and two legs flex. A great stone head turns towards Edan. The creature's eyes are purple.
"Brilliant," Edan says, mostly to himself. He squares himself and looks up at the great stone creature. "Have I intruded upon you and your home? I could keep going."
The speech of a creature not used to speech is rough and slow. It is clearly a magical speaking, for there are no lungs to propel breath or vocal cords to make the air vibrate. And yet, it speaks.
"Curious. So long since your kind were here. Why?" The eyes sparkle, and the teeth are like diamonds.
"Because it's what I wanted," Edan says, and winces, and wonders if there were a more painfully vague statement he could have made. He drops to one knee and places a palm on the bare rock. "There is power here. There is fire here, not far below, keeping the water warm. The moon is close. It all comes together and resonates in a way that I desired. In this place, I can talk to my friend from far away."
The stone arms pull free. "Your doing? The lightless ones, the breakers? You? You wanted the dark groundseal and it came here? You killed the landers and the flyers?" He seems to be heating up, and starting to move faster.
Edan spends a lot of precious time thinking, Huh? but then stands. "You don't understand," he says. "I travel between places and between worlds. Many worlds. I find what I want to find. What happened here, whatever happened, it was long before I came here or started looking. I had nothing to do with this..." He looks around. "War."
The large, slow, and dense creature stops. "Yes, this war was before the you. Before the me, or the-me-as-I-am. You are different from the they-who-are-gone. Will you bring them back?"
Edan blinks, then smiles, though it is little more than a baring of teeth. "It wasn't on my agenda," he says. "Why, do you want them back?"
The rock creature doesn't move. Edan suspects it does not move very much, in general. Or at least not quickly. "We have not decided. They only inhabit a small part of the land: the surface and the air above it. They were to be given another epoch or two before we decided. They ate very little of the rock, and were sometimes amusing. They were good pets, some said."
"We? Some?" A pause. "Epoch?" Edan swallows. "Will you and... the others... care if I use this place to reach my friend? I will need some of its heat."
"Hmm. We would need to discuss it. Mull it over. Understand the implications. I will have to decide if I can call a trollmoot."
Kyauta, you'd best stay close. We have visitors.
Yes, Great Lord! I return! I have found something to burn!
And what would that be, my affine?
A tree, once!
Edan's expression turns brittle. An infinity of Shadow, and he's managed to find a society of Altamarean rocks. "I... have other obligations elswhere," he says. "I might be pressed for time. Would such a discussion take long as, er, the landers saw it?"
The rock doesn't move, much, but looks to be deep in thought. It's not really clear why a rock would need a mouth to talk, when it has no tongue. Perhaps it's a convenient place to keep teeth. The rock mouth has plenty of teeth.
"Hmmm. You plan what? To leave this place? Since a worst-case would be that we would ask you to leave this place, I see no harm in you proceeding while we consider. As long as you do no harm, then no harm will be done."
"As you will, then." Edan nods, and bows, Fishing out the pin that Chases-in-Madness gave him... how long ago was it? It felt like an eternity had happened in the short time since the race - he moves along the shore of the steaming lake a little bit, then finds a relatively dry and clean spot to sit. He starts with using his Third Eye, checking the pin to see if it works alone or is a focus for a spell he himself has to cast.
It has magic upon it. Magery, not true sorcery. Or something chaotic.
I return, great Lord! Kyauta lands on top of the rock creature. He is carrying a very dead, somewhat charred tree-limb. The rock thing does not move.
Edan extends an arm. "Come here, Kyauta, off of our host. That branch looks like it will work well - while I prepare it, have a look at this thing in my hand and tell me what you see."
Kyauta looks down, dropping his head between his haunches. His neck stretchs and moves in a way that a creature with a true spine could not imagine. He flies to Edan and lands on his arm. He seems heavier than before, somehow.
It is a filmy, Great Lord!
Edan only looks startled for a moment. "Wish I knew that before..." he says. He waves a hand over the branch, which catches fire, then goes out. Frowning, he waves his hands more intricately, and the branch catches fire again and stays lit despite the humidity and steam from the lake. Streams of grey-brown smoke rise upwards. "This shouldn't hurt anything, even a filmy," Edan says. "We will use Similarity to connect with Chases-in-Madness. The smoke will be our focus." Golden eyes glance at Kyauta, then. "Why are you heavier? Did you Eat something?"
Rain, Great Lord! Tasty, tasty Rain!
The smoke twines around the branch and rolls over Edan and the thing that Kyauta called a filmy. It turns and twists and forms itself into a tunnel, no more than an inch wide, before Edan.
Edan follows the smoke and the manifestation with his Third Eye. When the tunnel forms, he summons additional tendrils of smoke, twirling them together to form an eyeball with a trail back to his own body. He sends that forward into the tunnel.
"Chases?" he says through it, softly.
"Son of the Sun. I no longer Chase," she corrects. The eyeball reaches the end of the tube, and focus clarifies quickly. With his ad-hoc fourth eye, Edan sees the back of Chases' head, her blonde hair cascading over her bare shoulders. Beyond her is what looks much like a campaign tent of the Altamareans.
"Should it be 'Outspeeds Madness', then?" Edan asks, his voice warm. "I might not be best-named Son of the Sun anymore, either - I have made different names for myself, more than once." He pauses. "Would now be a bad time to talk?"
"You risk much with your sorcery, Watcher in Smoke. My father will blind the Eye you see me with if he learns of your impertinence." She turns around, so that Edan can see her face; an amused smile softens the apparent rebuke. "What would you speak of, at such great risk?" The Eye, now at the end of the smoke tunnel, reveals more of the scene. She is bathing, but makes no move to retrieve her clothes from the riverbank.
"I... wha?" Edan stammers, nonplussed. "I... am most ashamed at this outrageous breach of privacy." Somehow, after he says it, he wonders if it sounds completely honest. "I merely wanted to continue the conversation that we had at the Tree. Perhaps another time, another place would be more... appropriate."
She doesn't stop smiling. "There may never be a more appropriate time, Watcher, and the eye is an innovation I had not considered. You are a versatile spellcaster." She sits further back in the water. "Tell me of your Ordered travels, since the race."
"That would be a very very long tale, I'm afraid," Edan admits. "I have met with my grandmother, father, uncles and aunts. I destroyed a part of Brand's legacy, and fought a battle with gods and men and cousins. I have questioned my own faith, and brought faith to others. I drowned a battlefield in fire, and was nearly drowned by water from within. I have come more into my power, and yet have been tempered and humbled by the same. I understand more about others, by finding myself." His head tilts. "What about you?"
Her expression does not change as she listens to Edan's tale.
"I have won my race, bringing honor to the riders and the prize to my father's cause. I have been named friend by a changeable one. I have followed a fire that does not burn, spoken with a rock that walks, and crossed a water that does not run. I have earned new names."
She pauses for a moment before adding, "And I have carried a knife."
Edan smiles a little, though it doesn't show in the eye of smoke. "I have carried your token as well," he says, his voice softer. "Always with me, and just between us. But your kinsmen found out anyway." He pauses, and looks down. "A warning was sent, accusing Bleys. And, perhaps, a demonstration made. I think they were referring to me."
"It is possible that someone has found an unknown knife among my things," Outspeeds Madness allows, her smile fading slightly. "My father would not approve. His plans do not include his daughter exchanging knives with the Son of the Sun."
"So someone would be watching you," Edan says. "I understand...there are also a number in Amber who also would not be pleased. Starting with Benedict on down..." he stops. "Have you been promised to another, then?"
"Not that I have been told," she allows. Perhaps she is being watched, because she makes some effort to demonstrate that she's soaping up. "But I know he has spoken to those who would offer for me."
Edan feels his face grow hot, either from embarassment, or indignation at her situation, or... something else. I want her. It makes no sense. I have barely exchanged words with her. What strange sorcery is this?
In a slightly strangled voice, he says, "And how would you have things, Keeper-of-my-knife? What do you want?"
"To choose where I will. What every other woman wants," she replies, a touch sharply.
"To have free will. I understand. I wish that for you, too," Edan says. His tone makes it plain that there's more he's leaving unspoken. "What can I do?"
"I don't know." She ducks her head under the water for a moment, as if to rinse some of the soap off. "There may be nothing you can do just now. Unless you know something of the Smith." It seems to be a sobriquet after the Moonrider fashion, although it is simpler than every other name Edan has heard given to a Moonrider.
Edan sighs through the connection, half negation, half regret. "I know of 'a' Smith," he says. "I do not know where he has gone. I am still working out the math that allows his art to exist. It is said that the price of his work is very high." And not just to obtain his work, either, he leaves unspoken.
Realizing that their time is getting limited, he says, "I am still committed to the idea of a peaceful solution between Amber and Ghenesh. I would meet with you sometime, someday, if such a thing is possible. You have the means to reach me, even if I cannot reach you." He smiles. "Maybe you'll tell me where that affine was meant to go, if not to me."
"Maybe I will, but not today, alas. That is a longer story than the opening of your Eye will allow." There's a momentary blurring that it takes Edan a moment to realize is her flicking water at the sorcery, playfully. Given the nature of his magic, it is more damaging than she probably intended, and the image reforms to show a chagrined grimace. "When you are done with your business, meet me at the Eight Pointed Crossroad of Sand, Watcher in Smoke. We will see what we can do there."
Eight pointed... what? "I will do so," Edan says instead, confident that he'll find it. He hopes. "I will see you there, Princess."
"You will," Outspeeds Madness agrees, and she flicks water at the smoke-eye again. This time, it is too much, and the spell collapses. Edan finds himself where he was, alone, except for Kyauta and Aramsham.
Edan rises, puts out the fire, and bows in the direction of the moving rock (even if the rock is no longer there). "I am finished. I thank you for accepting me as a guest in this place. Fare thee well, Mountain-that-moves."
Conner spends some time in Xanadu's market trying to obtain the tools he would need for his Rebman Door project. Though frustrated in much he gets the main requirement: a block of wax. Arriving in Rebma via a trump to Llewella, Conner goes straight to the Pattern chamber and via much trial and error, obtains his impression of the lock on the Pattern chamber door. Now all that is left to do is travel out into shadow in search of place where this impression could be turned into a true working key. He tells his Aunt Llewella that he will leave from Amber as that was now the easiest starting point for a Shadow journey and requests to borrow her trump of Caine.
Still, Conner has no doubts that any that knew him would know his real reason for leaving from Amber. He needs to know if she is all right and how badly she betrayed him. Conner focuses on the card in his hand. "Uncle. Its Conner. Will you bring me through?"
"Certainly, Conner. Come to me." Caine's image clarifies quickly, and his hand is out. He takes Commer's and pulls him into an office.
"Your timing is impeccable. Brennan and I were just speaking of you. What brings you to Amber?"
Conner resists the urge to simply answer, 'Your Trump.'
"Unfinished business, specifically Thalia." Conner replies without pretense. "While in Paris, I was given permission to question Bend about events in Rebma during my stay there as First Secretary and she indicated that Gateway's dealings with Huon stretched back as far as then with Thalia in the information loop. I desire to know more." Conner smiles thinly. "So I have come to ask if I can assist in your investigations and question her."
"Hmmm," says Caine. "I can definitely see the advantage of it, particularly if Thalia trusts you. However, the reason she might trust you is the same requires me to be cautious. After you question her, I wish her to be both present and alive for further questioning. What are your intentions towards the prisoner?"
"I agree to both of those provisions." Conner nods. "As for my intentions, I wish for her to be so forthcoming with information that a deal for release, parole or more comfortable incarceration can be brokered. I plan to appeal to her enlightened self interest. Highest on my list of conversational topics is the sorcery performed on Marius and the exact nature and source of any information they funneled to Huon. Is there anything in particular you would like me to question her about?"
Caine nods and begins ticking off points on his fingers. "We'd rather like to know the military and magical capabilities of Gateway, any allies Gateway has, significant factions in the government, and the names of the key decisionmakers in taking Marius. And perhaps an idea who would miss it if we wiped it from the face of creation.
"Ideally she should volunteer all of that, and it should be true. So really, just a fishing trip for anything useful."
Conner nods. "I was in Gateway not too long ago setting up an embassy for Amber so I should be able to... corroborate... some." Conner stops speaking and his eyes widen. "Shortly before I left Gateway," Conner began, "my ship was attacked by magical constructs of water and with the timely arrival of Celina and Merlin we fought them off. I was vain enough to think it was a personal attack unconnected to wider events and never followed it up." One of Conner's hands clenches into a fist. Maybe the three of them could have blunted Huon's advance before he ever made it beneath the waves. Maybe it would have been the three of them bleeding to provide Huon with his bomb. Conner sighs. "It would seem I have more questions now, Highness. With your permission, I'd like to question Thalia now."
Caine nods. "Granted. She's in the old family wing, third floor. If you want a midshipman to take notes for you, go ahead." He looks up. "Come back when you're done, or write up a report."
"I shall." Conner assures him. Conner leaves and does not bother with the midshipman. He does not need another to recall the meeting and a lack of witness may prove a boon. Conner walks up to the third floor. It seems a lifetime ago that he thought of these corridors and rooms as home. Now they are merely a way station and for now a prison he visits. He seeks out the room Thalia is held in.
Conner finds it easily, and Thalia opens the door herself. "Conner?" she says. Her tone is uncharacteristically uncertain.
"Yes." Conner confirms with a trace of humor in his voice. "Though I presume it is my intentions rather than my identity that you question." Conner does not move to kiss or embrace her but instead walks into the room. "Have you been treated well?"
She laughs. "Your cousin has some troubles telling friend from foe, and that's an inconvenience for me and a long-term problem for your King. I'm a diplomat, so I'm not going to expect a reward and a parade for helping rescue a lost son of Amber, but I would've preferred a less restrictive welcome.
"Other than being stuck here instead of free to act, I've been treated well. Prince Caine is not primarily worried about me, so I am not his first priority to interrogate. Until now."
She steps over to the window and pours a glass of wine from a decanter.
"This meeting is at my request actually though the Regent naturally provided me with a list of things he is most curious about." Conner smiles. "I thought a friendly chat between us would be far more agreeable all around." Conner joins Thalia at the window. "So why did you choose to leave Gateway?" Conner asks.
She nods, and hands him the wine. It's a Gateway varietal, one that grows exclusively in regions of former high-magic use. It was a luxury in Rebma. She pours herself another.
"In a shell? I saw an opportunity and jumped at it. In retrospect, my reasons were threefold. Primus, I saw a way to quickly and safely get myself beyond the reach of my enemies at the Gate. Secundus, I saw opportunity to correct an injustice done by my people to Amber. Tertius, I hoped to have influence on Amber's inevitable retaliation on Gateway, and help spare my people the consequences of their bad decisions."
Conner nods and takes a sip of the wine. "Well you have accomplished the first, began the second and may yet achieve the third." Conner replies easily. "It will not surprise you to hear that the family is planning an answer to Gateway's actions. The suggestions started at razing the land and sowing it with salt and mellowed somewhat from there. I would think we can mitigate things further or at least influence the shape of the blast. Why don't we begin at the beginning? How did Gateway come to be working with Huon of the Horn?"
She drinks of her wine, savoring the magic. "The Black Tide was the catalyst, of course. We were weakened by the war and into the power vacuum stepped Prince Huon. He allied with radicals and helped them raise the thaumacracy in days. Amber was both the source of their power and the cause of their troubles. I didn't learn of his involvement until he marched an army through the Gate and below the waves." She pauses. "My ignorance probably kept me from being locked up with Marius, or worse.
"I think he was supposed to be a hostage or some sort of insurance. I don't know what they did to him to make him so weak."
"I do." Conner replies. "They performed blood sorcery on him, Thalia." Conner says bluntly. "They drained his life from his veins to form a being that shielded Huon from harm." Conner watches Thalia carefully for her reaction to this news.
She blinks, and seems genuinely surprised, if not horrified. "Blood magic against a fellow magician is forbidden. Well, then. Let me reiterate the offer I made to Marius. I'd like to help Amber liberate Gateway from the Thaumacracy."
Conner smiles warmly. "Good. Then let's start with the current power structure in Gateway. Who is in charge, which factions actively backed Huon and which factions are likely to flock to Amber's banner when we announce an intention to topple the Thaumacracy?"
Thalia smiles, and responds that it's good to work with someone who will listen to her. She lays out the state of politics and factions in Gateway in stark detail, and it's about as Conner would have expected. A few friends will rally immediately, a few enemies will be made, and the vast majority of the mages will take a waiting approach.
"The most important person to convert will be Harper. You may remember she was The Gate's ambassador to Amber.
"My favorite griffin has ascended to a grander perch?" Conner smiles. "What position does she now hold that makes her such a lynchpin to Gateway's future?" He asks.
"No official one. Politics in Gateway is like dealing with infants with crossbows. They all have amazing powers and no method for learning the advantages of compromise. What Harper has is that people have a habit of listening to her on the subject of Amber. That's priceless."
"And what advice did she give on the following of Huon, I wonder?" Conner muses but does not wait for an answer. "Moving on to other notables, what of your cousin Marta and Collegia Arcanum? Will they stay locked in Ivory Towers or smell an opportunity? On a more personal note, what became of the embassy I set up before I left Gateway? What are the fates of Lord Jewel and Captain List of the Lady Venus?"
Thalia sips her wine, just enough to wet her lips to glistening. If it was artifice, she hides it well. "Hmm. That's a few things. Let's start with Jewel and List--assume they're prisoners. Either they were before, they are after we escaped, or they will be when we return. They're definitely a complication, depending on the King's position on hostages.
"I wouldn't count on the Ivory Tower until we were definitely winning, although they couldn't stop younger, more aggressive members from joining us. They might even encourage it, quietly. They're exactly the kind of institution that won't make waves.
"So, there are three groups, politically, that you can deal with. The expansionists want to create our own circle of trade, where Gateway sits in the role of Amber or Rebma. If anyone is going to get rich, they want it to be them. Generally weaker magically, they find that gold in great quantity compensates. They want Rebma to be weakened, and Amber to have less influence. They're probably buyable, but individually and it's hard to see them staying bought for long.
"The isolationists want foreign influences out, in general. They're for the Thaumacracy, but only weakly. Turning them against it would be a diplomat's work that could get shot all to hell in a single afternoon by any show of force. Still, they might be worth tackling. It would lead to a stronger Gateway, but one less pliant to Rebma or Amber.
"One reason the Thaumacracy came to power is it appeals to both sides". She shakes her head.
"There's a smaller group that is looking for assistance for the non-magical, but they have no power or influence in Gateway. They have a revolutionary arm and have managed a few assassinations, but aren't really part of the polity. Frankly, the best thing to do with them is tie Huon to them, and watch the Magicians drop them like cockroaches."
Thalia looks up. "Did I miss anything?"
"Yes," Conner replies, "though that was very thorough." Conner nods in approval. "Who are Huon's biggest supporters, the leaders of this New World Order? Who must be made an example of so that when the next being out of shadow with a grudge and an army shows up, Gateway does not walk this path again?" Conner asks.
Thalia lists three names: Klaya, Kranto, and Dexamene-- none of them are familiar to Conner. The first two were presumed dead in the Black Tides, but tell tales of being captive and returned. The third is a mystery. No one knows where she came from, or what she was or did before. Her skills are unquestionable, if somewhat unorthodox.
"Unorthodox?" Conner leans forward. "Now that intrigues me. Describe her if you please. In what way is her power out of the ordinary?" While a being out of shadow with magical power is not out of the question, this smacks of something Real and possibly sorcerous. His followup questions try to tease out if that is the case.
Thalia shrugs. "She's a natural. Happens every couple of generations. Someone with no training who, through breeding, environment and good or bad luck, is a powerful magician without being trained. Historically, they die during puberty. It's one of the reasons the schools exist. We don't like killing off our talented and gifted youth because we didn't teach them self control. Naturals who can control themselves have taught us much about magic. It's considered good fortune to know an adult natural.
"Dexamene is rumored to come from the Polar wastes to the south, and other remote places, such as the underwater lands of Gateway. One rumor, which she hasn't denied, is that she was born in the water of the Gate, half in and half out of Gateway."
She looks at Conner. "That rumor plays well, but nobody heard of anyone like that before she showed up. You can bet someone's been born in the past two years who fits that profile, though. Now that the idea exists."
Conner hums thoughtfully. "That answer does seem a little too pat, I agree. Well, I shall put her towards the top of the list of mysteries to look into in my copious lack of spare time." Conner smiles. "So what have you been up to under the new regime? Besides planning to escape at the first opportunity."
Thalia smiles, slightly at his humming. "I headed North, to try to sort out some lingering problems near the North Polar Sea. Following up on things I'd learned from the Dey, as a matter of fact. When I came back, I figured out it had been a ruse to take me away from the Gate during the coup. It was well-planned, I grant them that. I was months too late to do anything by the time I'd returned." Her lips tighten. She's angry, or acting that way.
"They couldn't induce me to commit any crimes, at first. I think they were considering arresting me anyway, so I was almost out of time when I saw the opportunity to help your cousin and myself. He's a strange bird, you know. Not much like any of you all I've met before, for all that he is in your Navy."
"He's been through a lot." Conner replies wryly and leaves it at that. "Odd that they would send you on a fool's errand rather than just have you eliminated. Huon tends to be pragmatic that way from what I've seen. Oh, this is neither here nor there, but I wish to ask it before I forget again. While in Gateway, I encountered beings made of water controlled by small schools of fingerling fish that swam inside them. Is that a common magic or someone's signature style?"
"You misunderstand me. I was sent away by my superiors, who moved me to safety. I would likely be dead had I not." The anger is back. Perhaps someone did die.
She pauses. "It's ... student magic. The first year you are taught to project a protective field for the water-breathers. It's a precursor to learning to breathe in the sea. But I've never seen it done so that the fish were in control of the shells. Where did you encounter these watershells?"
"In Gateway's Harbor." Conner replies. "A group of them attacked The Lady Venus, the ship from Xanadu that brought me and Random's diplomatic party." Not for the first time, Conner shakes his head at his own disinterest in the event at the time. Was he really so beguiled by Celina and the green sword that an attempt on his life was so easily brushed aside? "Fortunately, my cousins Merlin and Celina arrived in Gateway at that precise moment and we gave a practical demonstration of the superiority of sorcery in the Clarissan tradition." Conner grins. "At the time, I thought little of the incident but now I wish to find its place in larger events."
Thalia looks more worried than before. "That sounds like we shall need to discuss things with my Aunt. Luckily, we are diplomats." A grim look crosses her face. "I wonder if they were testing you, to see how much force they needed to take your cousin. Given the obvious connection to the underwaves, Dexamene may be your most likely attacker."
"It sounds like the cycle is complete. It would seem I had slipped beneath the waves to escape an above ground noose." Conner chuckles. "Well I doubt it shall be I traveling to Gateway anytime soon. They wish to send a strong message you see and fear I would be too lenient." Conner explains. "Moreover, I have responsibilities that I must be about after this meeting. Is there anything else you can think of that you would like passed along to the Powers That Be?"
Thalia shakes her head. "Other than my request for parole and offer to be useful to them in getting what they want without massacring my people? I think that will be enough."
Conner nods and pauses a moment. When he arrived in Amber, it was his intention to confront Thalia with Bend's accusations and get some kind of resolution. However, being in Thalia's presence and fitting Bend's claims into Thalia's timeline, Conner finds that he no longer needs to know. Or wants to know. Conner takes Thalia's hand and kisses it softly. "Then I shall make my report to Caine and see what can come of it. I will check in on you as I can, Thalia. Fare well."
Thalia nods, and seems loath to let go of his hand. It may have been some long time since she has been touched by someone who was not hostile towards her.
Conner writes up a complete summary of Thalia's opinions on Gateway's factions and their capabilities. Conner reiterates her offer to help in hopes of Amber's reprisals being a surgical strike rather than a general leveling and states that he feels her offer was sincere and aligned with her own interests. Conner snags a midshipman or page and has the report sent off to Caine.
Last modified: 4 March 2011