Growing Up

One afternoon, when Folly is busy in the studio, Ossian shows up. He enters the room very quietly, picks up a cowbell, and joins in the music picking out a rhythm (not loudly).

Folly grins at him and keeps going, changing up her own rhythms to weave and play around his. She's on some kind of cobbled-together instrument -- one of several that have appeared in the studio in the last few weeks -- fashioned from a long shallow open box on legs with several strings strung across. Folly is playing it by tapping the strings with a stick, while fiddling with pedals and knobs that change the sound in various ways.

When they reach the end of the song and the last notes die away, she turns to the music stand next to her, shuffles through the stack of scrawled music notation on it -- even from across the room, Ossian's trained artist's eye can discern at least three different hands -- and at about the point Ossian came in, adds a note: "MORE COWBELL."

Then, "Hi, Ossian!" she says brightly. "That was awesome! How're you?"

Ossian grins. "Excellent, but busy busy. Which is partly why I came here." Then he laughs. "Seems like pregnancy suits you. Which conncts to why I'm here too."

"...Because you were thinking of having a go at being pregnant, too?" Folly teases. From the twinkle in her eye, it's clearly neither the first nor the least appropriate response that occurred to her. More seriously, she adds, "I've found it a fantastic experience so far, although I admit I'm getting a bit impatient for the part where I actually get to be a mum, you know?"

"Heh. I'm not a dad yet. Not planning to either. I thought for a while... but that kid is Reid's" Ossian does not seem sorry about this. But he suddenly sounds serious.

"Until we find Reid, I will act as the girl's guardian. And now I need to find tutors for her. I thought that you will be looking for tutors too in a few years..."

"I will be -- and it's something that already has been on my mind. How old is y--- ...is Reid's daughter? I suppose she can't be more than a few years...." Folly regards Ossian with a thoughtful look that grows suddenly hopeful. "Will she be coming to live in the castle?"

"She lives here now. Low profile" Ossian says "But she'll likely move down to the city when her mother's house there is finished.

"She's not very old, no. Do you want to meet her?"

"I'd like that very much," Folly replies with a delighted smile. In a low, almost conspiratorial voice she adds, "In a way I'm relieved that there'll be another young child growing up here. Since I'm not supposed to have any more children--- Well, it won't be exactly the same as having siblings, but maybe they'll develop a similar sort of kinship. At least they'll each have someone else around who understands what it's like growing up as one of us, you know?" Her smile grows a bit wistful.

Ossian nods. "I have had similar thoughts."

She sets aside the music she was marking up and seems ready to go meet the child whenever Ossian is. "What subjects do you think it'll be most important to find a tutor for?"

"Not too many at the start. Some arts. Basic reading, writing, math." Ossian frowns. "And although I don't like to say it; some fighting skills. Do you think Venesch could handle kids?"

"That's a very good question." Folly frowns slightly in thought. "He was Jerod's instructor, if I recall correctly, but I don't know how old Jerod was when they started. My guess is that Venesch could handle kids just fine -- but it might not be very fun for the kids. They'd probably learn a lot of disciplne, though."

She adds, "I suspect there might be some family members willing to help out, too. For instance, I've given a music lesson or two in my time...." She grins.

Ossian nods "And I can give lessons too. But we are not dependable. And we have the Amberite perspective. She needs other teachers too.

"I was thinking: what if we asked Venesch to be playful. He is all discipline, but he is not stupid. I have seen such men melt and have very good hands with kids."

Ossian shakes his head "I wanted to ask Jerod about that. That conversation turned the usual way though..."

"Ah." Folly gives Ossian a wry smile that suggests she's got a pretty good idea what he means by that. "Perhaps it's just as well. I'm not sure the lens of his experience lets through the picture you're actually looking for, you know? Probably it's better to go directly to the source and see what Venesch has to say about the idea. Assuming he's still talking to any of us after this duel thing, that is, which... have you heard anything more about that?"

Ossian shakes his head. "For some reasons people does not value my duel knowledge. " he smiles a wry smile back at Folly. "Why are they delaying? I would expect both Venesch and Robin to get done as soon as possible.

"I'd better talk with him before the duel. The question is how I should approach him. I'm not very keen on insulting him."

"No, I think one duel is quite enough," Folly agrees. "But I think he will not feel insulted if you are forthright with him: your ward is recently discovered to be of the royal family and needs training, and he is obviously very qualified for such training from his experience with Jerod; so would he possibly be interested, and if so, would he feel comfortable starting with a child so young and playful...? How does that sound?"

"And as far as I know, Reid and Venesch got along well.

"Any suggestions for arts teachers? Besides me and you, of course?" Ossian frowns, nodding towards Folly's belly "I can teach painting. If your husband-to-be lets me."

"I'd like that," Folly says with a little smile, and lays a hand on her belly. "And I think Martin will be okay with it, too." Even if he requires a little convincing, she doesn't add, but Ossian may sense that's what she means.

"As for other possible teachers in Xanadu... most of my friends that I know have made it here are rock musicians or folk artists or craftspeople of various sorts." She pauses, thinking. "Do you know whether Kaliq decided to come here or go to Paris?"

"I don't know if he has decided yet. He might need help making that deciscion, if I know the man. Do you think he would be suitable?"

"I don't know if he'd be interested in teaching himself," Folly replies, "but I'll bet he'd have ideas of who might be suitable. And if he's already in Xanadu, or coming here, I rather think he'd enjoy having a good excuse to seek out all the artists and musicians here." She grins.

"That's a good idea. I'll contact him at first opportunity.

"Rock or folk artists could do parts of the job, I think, even if we probably need someone like Rein too."

Folly nods. "And it occurs to me that Violet -- you know Violet, right? -- has musical training. I have no idea how she'd feel about working with kids on music, though." She pauses, thinking. "Is your... ward's mother still in the picture? What kind of circles does she run in?"

"Surely you know the lady Darling. She's here, but she has not found a place in society here yet. Kaliq would be good for helping her with that too."

"Ohhhh!" Folly says, and throws up her hands as if to say that she should have pieced that together herself. "Yes, I know Darling -- and yes, getting her together with Kaliq does seem like a good idea. I've got some friends she might like to meet, too."

Ossian smiles. "That would maybe keep her busy. A good thing, I think.

"Violet is an interesting option." Ossian goes quiet "I need to talk with her anyway. Silken has gone missing."

"What?!" Folly sits abruptly straighter. "When? What happened?"

"She managed a number of Lucas's descendants. And Flora can't find her. At least not last time I spoke with Flora.

"I talked to Silken before leaving Amber a few weeks back. Maybe she found out about Lucas's death, and left. I don't know."

"Martin will want to know about that, if he doesn't already," Folly says with a frown of concern. "He had some things he needed to talk to her about." She pauses, and in a lower voice adds, "There was a boy on board when we were sailing back here that he thinks might be one of Lucas's." Another pause, then, "I hope her involvement in his affairs hasn't gotten her into some kind of trouble."

Ossian nods. "Lucas is dead. Not many would need more revenge on his memory. I dislike where that thought is leading me."

"Lucas had his fingers in a lot of pies, and I daresay most of them weren't made out of sunshine and blueberries, you know?" Folly purses her lips in thought. "Anyone who thought Silken might know something they'd prefer not-known.... Have you got someone specific in mind? Or someones?"

"Someone seems very disappointed with her son." Ossian says after a few seconds "Doing away with Silken might spare someone more embarassments.

"But then, as you say there are many other possibilities, including the possibility that she is just trying to find her way here or to Paris on her own."

"Let's hope." Folly falls into a grimly thoughtful sort of silence for a moment, and then slips her cards from her pocket. She eases herself off her stool and onto the floor, a little away from the nearest instruments so there's room to deal out a standard spread on the carpet before her. "So, 'Where's Silken?', do you think, or something more specific? ---And come to think of it, your deck might be better for this than mine: I don't have Lucas OR Flora -- or any of the other elders, for that matter. That might be kind of important."

"I'd say 'What has happened to Silken?', if words matter in this case." Ossian says, nodding, as he pulls his deck from a pocket. "Do you have any cards that could be useful? Lucas for instance."

Folly shakes her head at the query about Lucas. "I've got you, Paige, and Martin. Plus a sketch of a hospital in shadow where I hope never to go again. I suppose that could represent several things in this context." She fishes out the three trumps and the sketch from her case and offers them to Ossian to add temporarily to his deck. "And I agree that your wording is probably the better way to go."

Ossian smiles. "I seem to be doing this often nowadays."

He shuffles the deck proficiently and slowly lays the spread.

Bottom row:
Overlooking the Diamond, reversed
Martin
The Phoenix

Middle row:
The Dragon
The Fool, reversed

Top row:
Law

Ossian ponders for a minute before saying "Hm. Not as ambigous as I had hoped. Ambiguity keeps the reading honest."

Folly smiles.

"Anyway: here is my interpretation: She saw an Opportunity, supposedly wanting to go here, or Paris. She is Cunning and used that to try to find a way here. Her fate might well hang on Martin or what he does. Her problem is that she cannot navigate in shadow. Lack of Connection. The fate is tied to how she is Reborn. If Orderly she finds a new role here or in Paris. If not we can expect Treachery. Maybe even from her.

"And the opposite of Order is Chaos. She might have kids of our family with her. Their blood is, as we know precious." Ossian shudders.

"We should not discount the risk for the Dragon being literal.

"Now, this was a pessimistic reading, I guess."

Ossian looks at Folly.

She's grinning. "Here's the more optimistic one, then...." She gestures to the cards in the second row. "You looked at these as being the things working for and against Silken, but they could also be the things working for and against those asking the question. We're awfully damn clever" -- she touches the Dragon, then taps the upside-down Fool -- "but sometimes the simplest thing is to ask the person who might actually know something." She touches Martin's card and then looks at Ossian with twinkling eyes. "Basically I think your cards are making fun of me for not trying that first."

More seriously, she adds, "But if it turns out he doesn't have any idea where she is, we can go back to the more pessimistic reading."

Ossian laughs.

"Yeah. Let's start there." he looks around. "How are the electrical instruments working?"

Folly tilts her head from side to side. "Sort of... medium-ly, I guess? We've already got a pretty good handle on amplification -- because obviously in a drummer's ideal world it's easy to make things LOUDER, you know? -- but we're still working on things like reverb. And, you know, actually recording."

She gestures to a beat-up-looking electric guitar, inviting Ossian to try it out if he wants. "So, you can plug them in and make sounds come out, but it's not always precisely the sound you're trying for. The older, simpler ones tend to be a little less finicky."

Ossian smiles, and picks up the guitar. He slowly starts picking the strings, as if to get a feeling for the tuning. "So I am at an advantage if I don't know what sound I want?" he says.

Folly grins and nods.

"I never cared much for recordings anyway. Too fixed. Stale."

"...but couldn't you say the same thing about Trumps?" Folly asks. "I mean, I know that performance by its very nature lets you do things differently each time -- to let the music be a living, changing thing -- but a really skillful recording allows the listener to notice new things with every listen. Not unlike a skillful painting."

Ossian shrugs as his finger try different harmonies on the guitar. "I am too lazy. And paintings are sadly a bit too permanent too, which is why I make so many Trump sketches, and so few Trumps.

"I also like the sense of passing. The knowledge that the art cannot be reexperienced contributes. A lot. Maybe self destructing recordings..." Ossian has started to play some kind of folk song on the guitar. (something like: this)

"Then of course, I see more of the subtleties in paintings than in music, and I suspect the reverse is true for you."

"Indeed," Folly agrees. "Music is still the language I understand best, so I'm most likely to catch its nuances." She takes up the cowbell and begins to fill in a sparse beat beneath Ossian's noodling; she's quickly caught up in the music, forestalling further comment.

Ossian loses himself for a while. Unless they get interrupted Ossian will continue to play. He is very talented, if not technically proficient, although Folly is the expert.

Eventually a page wanders by and Folly and Ossian coopt him to find Prince Martin and request his presence in the studio. Not much later, Martin arrives, looking as though he's come directly from some kind of court meeting. He's looking Folly over anxiously as he strides in the door, as if he expects something bad to have happened. "What's up, Folly? Everything OK here?" he says, sounding kind of worried, until he catches sight of Ossian and relaxes slightly. "Oh, hullo, Ossian," he adds.

"Yes, everything's OK," Folly reassures him. She shifts a bit in her beanbag chair so that he can share it if he'd like. "We were just wondering--- Did you talk with Silken while we were in Amber? And do you know where she was planning to go, if anywhere?"

She leaves room for Ossian to provide any context he sees fit to add.

"Some senior relative could not find her. Which is troublesome since our dear dead cousins had a number of children in Silken's ward." Ossian says.

Martin settles in next to Folly, sliding a comfortable arm around her. "Who was looking for her? I can lay a hand on her if I need to, but I'd just as soon leave her where she is unless there's a very good reason to bother her." He glances at Ossian, and adds, "I'm aware of the children and the situation's under control."

Ossian nods. "Good."

Folly leans lightly into Martin's side as his arm slides around her. "No, I don't think we need to bother her--" she glances at Ossian to see if he has a different opinion-- "...we just wanted to make sure she was all right. Ossian tells me Flora had tried to track her down but couldn't find her; we figured you'd want to know, if you didn't already."

"Oh," Martin says, and it's not immediately obvious whether he knew or not. "Thanks. I'll talk to Aunt Flora if it comes up again."

Ossian smiles and shakes his head. "No need to worry then." He does not seem to be in a hurry to inform Aunt Flora.

Martin accepts Ossian's invitation to jam. His current interest could best be described as string metal (example here.) Ossian can tell, though, that there's something off about Martin's playing. It's not immediately obvious what it is, especially since Martin is playing the bass, which is not the most expressive instrument, but it seems to Ossian after a while that Martin's playing is more flat, and has less affect, than it used to. It's very strange to Ossian: almost like playing with a different person.

Ossian will try to provoke some explosivity from Martin during the jam, to see what kind of reaction he gets. He is intrigued, and will look for more signs of a personality change in Martin in the next few weeks.

Folly's presence may make this harder: While she's quite content to let the music get explosive, Ossian detects that she (perhaps subconsciously) seems to work to keep Martin himself from getting too riled up.

It is not obvious to Ossian whether Folly is concerned about the changes in Martin's playing, but she certainly seems to be paying close attention.

Ossian seems to have a hard time riling Martin. If he plays aggressively, Martin matches him as best he can, although without some of the driving passion (probably related to his long wait for his wife and his other disastrous romantic affairs) that characterized what Ossian would think of as the best of his work during the Regency. Folly does seem to have a calming effect on Martin, but she's like that and always was, to the best of Ossian's recollection.

Brita has spent some time working on the Trumps of Brennan, Edan, and now Raven. She has good sketch trumps of Brennan and Edan, although she is still working on Raven's. She has come to the Trump Booth to post the two sketches she has completed. As she finishes hanging them, she stares at the sketch of Ambrose for a moment and then impulsively reaches out to touch it. Concentrating on the image of her handsome cousin.

There's a moment of nothingness, and then contact: harried and distracted, but still there. Ambrose appears to be outdoors, and there's a storm of some sort. He reaches a hand out toward her before the connection is complete. "If you are of Amber, and you'd aid me, come through!"

Brita quickly cants the two trumps on either side of Ambrose's Trump towards his and reaches out to firmly grasp his hand. As a goodbye notice, it is not much, but hopefully will be interpreted properly.

When she reaches for Ambrose's hand, he takes it at once, and pulls her through to him. When he realizes who it is he pulls her a bit closer for a moment, his other arm sliding around her as momentum carries her into his arms. Or perhaps it's the driving wind, which is blowing the rain almost horizontally, that's responsible.

In any case, Ambrose releases Brita after a moment. They're out on a plain, too open and exposed, but at least the ground is high because the grasslands are probably subject to flash floods in low spots.

"Thank the Unicorn it's you!" Ambrose shouts over the storm. His linen shirt is soaked through and plastered to his body. It won't be very long until Brita's clothes are in the same condition. "Can you do anything about this? I think someone--or something--is blocking my way to Amber."

Brita nods firmly, in acknowledgment of the question or perhaps in greeting. Not attempting to speak, Brita notes the driving direction of the wind and takes a stance with one foot forward, facing into the wind. Concentrating on the water being flung into her and her cousin, she begins to make outward and opposite circular motions with her hands, almost as if she is swimming a breast stroke but with her fingers splayed wide. She pushes the water that comes at them around their space, immagining a large boulder containing the two of them. At the same time, she concentrates on chilling the water. Bringing to mind the frigid mountain climes of Jutenheim, she splays layer upon layer of progressively colder water around their imaginary boulder. The water becomes sluggish sleet, then wet ice, and then more solid ice crystals. She plasters the layers around them, hopefully forming a small-ish igloo that will keep out the wind as well as the rest of the wind-driven water.

It's not a difficult sorcery, but it is effective, and before very long, Brita and Ambrose are encased in an igloo.

Ambrose is finishing tying a bandage around his forearm when Brita completes her work, and smiles when he sees she is done.

He takes a deep breath and steps over to Brita. "Now that I can see and breathe again, I thank you. This has, to my mind, the makings of a trap for the unwary, which includes me. Who would set a trap here, and what might they be protecting?"

Brita returns the smile and walks over to clasp his arms at the shoulder. With one downward motion, she quickly slicks off all the water in his clothes and then repeats the gesture on herself so they are both dry.

"My First Question, must Of Course be - 'Where is Here?'," Brita says with a cock of her head to one side and a raised eyebrow.

"I'm not quite sure, other than it's between Xanadu and where I was. There's no natural shadow path going this way; I was walking myself and my people through. If this place has inhabitants, it must have a name, but I haven't seen anyone to ask them." Ambrose crosses his arms across his midsection and rubs his hands up and down his upper arms for warmth.

"There's only one thing I saw that I could imagine could be of interest: some flowers that appeared to be on fire. I thought they might be Chantico's work, but they weren't that kind of sorcery. They were strange to my Third Eye, though, so I thought I'd bring one or two back to Xanadu with me to discuss with you and Brennan. If that's what drew someone's attention, though, it's not like they're trying to salvage the flowers. They're trying to get rid of them."

"Cousin Daeon's Blood Lillies? A Dangerous Omen. I Wonder Who besides our Family would wish them Extinguished and Why?" Brita shakes her head, "Where are Your People? Still Out There?" she indicates the storm outside with a wave of her hand.

Ambrose gestures in some general sort of direction. "They're back the way I came and, I hope, out of the path of this storm. If they're not, though, they'll have some idea of what to do. It's not as though they've never seen hurricanes in Uxmal." He says this in a tone altogether too dry for an igloo in the middle of one. "If you didn't know what those--Blood Lillies?--" and Ambrose wrinkles his nose at the idea "--were, you might try to get rid of them too."

Brita nods in agreement. "I was Tasked to Find You and Aid your Return to Reality Xanadu. I do Not Think we should Take the Blood Lillies with Us Without Permission from Uncle Random." She thinks for a bit. "You have Seen no Others Here? What of Your Sister? Could She be Muddying your Path?"

Ambrose shakes his head in answer to the last two questions. "My sister's powers are strong in fire, and very limited in water. She doesn't have the strength to do that." A gesture indicates the storm outside Brita's icy walls. "And if there are any other members of the family here, I haven't seen them, or they haven't made themselves known to me.

"From in here, I can Part the Veil back to where the rest of my people are waiting. We can take them directly to Xanadu if we have a Trump connection, or we can try to forge a different path to avoid the storm."

"I Do have a Trump of the Road Past Just Rise we could Use. I can also Call My Mother or My Brother, although He may be Away from Reality Xanadu by Now," Brita notes.

Ambrose winces a bit at the idea of calling on Fiona. "If you think we can hold the trump open while we move people through it, Just Rise might be the best idea." He wrinkles his nose thoughtfully, rubbing his hands up and down his forearms again, clearly for warmth. "Where is Just Rise again?"

Brita takes off her long red jacket and puts it around his shoulders as she answers, "Just Rise is the Last Manor on the Path Up to the Palace. It Should be a Good Location to Bring Many through, Although we will Have Quickly to Find Mayor Ash to Request a Suitable Location for Your People. Perhaps the Rosinpast Forest or Beneath the Timani Cliffs. Regardless, We should Leave Now to Rejoin Your People." She cocks her head at him expectantly.

Ambrose flushes slightly when Brita wraps her jacket around him. "Yes," he agrees. He takes a moment to concentrate and then Parts the Veil, taking Brita's hand and bringing her through with him.

They arrive in a large encampment of the Uxmali people, all tents and people with a surprising lack of beasts of burden and wheeled transit. Apparently everything must be carried by human powered muscle. In the distance, when Ambrose points it out, Brita can see the storms ahead.

"Can you do whatever preparations are necessary while I gather the people?" Ambrose asks. "If the storm is coming this way, we won't have long. I'd rather not chance it."

Brita ignores Ambrose's discomfort and when they arrive, she lets him take the lead. She nods in answer to his question, and draws forth her trumps. "I can Maintain the Connection while You Ferry Your People Across."

It takes some little while for Ambrose to get his people together with their gear; they seemed ready to strengthen their camp against the storm as best they could and suddenly here's Ambrose, telling them to move. But he, like Brita, is a god, and when a god and a goddess promise the people of Uxmal passage and order them to get a move on, they obey. So, soon enough, Brita and Ambrose are sending his people though a trump to Just Rise, a long and exhausting business since they have to hand every single person through by ones, and in the case of the wounded and ill, twos and threes.

It takes what seems like forever for the two of them to hand people through, and it it turns out that Ambrose was right about the storm. He ends up doing something to hold off the rain, which he's able to do when he has some warning that it's coming, while Brita works to ensure no one is left behind in the rush and storm.

At the last, Ambrose has to drop whatever protection he's created for Brita (and curses the necessity for her to control the trump, because he thinks she'd have done better holding off the storm) and, wet and exhausted, they pass through the Trump, to find themselves on Just Rise in the dark of night, among a crowd of bewildered Uxmali and some rather unhappy Royal Guard who would like to know what exactly is going on.

Brita is in no mood to deal with the guards' harrying. As she once again shucks off water from her clothing, she barks off, "Lord Ambrose and I are Returning These People to the King's Realm as Ordered by the King. They Will Camp Here," she indicates the somewhat open glade across from Just Rise, "Until the King Decides Where they will Best serve Him. We Will Not Address This with the King until Morning."

"If His Majesty wishes to speak with us sooner, of course, we shall await his pleasure," Ambrose says, clearly having decided to play Conciliatory Cop to Brita's Bad Cop. "But the Lady Brita and I have travelled far to bring these people here at His Majesty's request. If you could relay the news that we have arrived to the castle, and that we would petition for an audience with His Majesty tomorrow, we would be most grateful."

The juniormost of the Guard is dispatched as an errand boy to the castle.

In due time, there is a message back from the castle with word that Brita and Ambrose are to present themselves to the King at breakfast. Ambrose excuses himself to take charge of setting up the camp (although Brita is welcome to help) and to see to the wounded and ill.

If she wants to remain with the Uxmali, she is welcome to sleep in Ambrose's tent, although he'll be busy enough that she's unlikely to see much of him. He is a working God among his people. If she wishes, Brita can also travel to the castle and sleep in her own rooms there.

Either way, Brita and Ambrose are at the castle in a small side room for breakfast at the appointed hour in the morning. Ambrose looks a bit travel-worn but, through either sorcery or the labor of his Uxmali servants, his clothes are clean, dry, and presentable.

Random walks in alone. "Don't get up," he says by way of greeting. "Welcome back, both of you." Random grabs an enormous yellow grapefruit from the sideboard. "You must tell me of your journey." He busies himself peeling the fruit.

"My Part is Small, Uncle. I Used the Sketch Trump of Cousin Ambrose to Locate him. He was Besieged by a Storm and I Assisted in Protecting him and in Getting His People through to Reality Xanadu. The Storm was Apparently Due to Cousin Ambrose having found one of Cousin Daeon's Blood Lilies." Brita glances at Ambrose for more elaboration.

"When I left Lilly and Edan in Amber, I returned to where I had left my people by Parting the Veil, and brought them onward towards Xanadu, as Your Majesty and I had agreed," Ambrose begins. "The train moved slowly through Shadow, for as you know, I am newly come into my heritage of the Pattern, and it is no easy task to lead a train of people in that way. In time I came to the place where Brita found me. I had forged ahead to see the path, and found the flowers that Brita refers to as blood lillies. To me they seemed a thing of fire, and I thought at first they might be a sign that Chantico had crossed that way, but I looked with my Third Eye and concluded otherwise."

He pauses there, to see whether Random requires further explanation. The king gestures to Ambrose to go on.

"Someone summoned a storm against me, or the flowers. I can't say for sure which it was. But when Brita trumped me, I brought her through. She created an igloo--a handsome sorcery--and from the safety of its interior, we returned to where I had left my people. The rest of the story is as Brita has told it, with one detail she has omitted, because she did not know. My mother is with our people, and gravely ill. She is dying, slowly, but less slowly since she was forced from her sickbed. I know she is not well-regarded here, because of my father, but I could not leave her." Ambrose flushes slightly. "I apologize for the dilemma I have laid on your doorstep, Your Majesty."

There is something about the cadence of his speech that Brita recognizes as alien to Thari, and common to Uxmali, for all that it's not one she's heard from Ambrose or Brennan before.

Random listens while working on his grapefruit. He finishes about halfway through Ambrose's recitation.

"Oh, she probably has a few people who don't like her too much, but really? She's mostly an issue in that she's clearly a lever on you, and maybe Brennan or his son. Nobody's going to assume that she has any culpability in any or Brand's ... hi-jinks.

"Brita, you've met her, what do you think?"

Brita thinks for a bit and then says, "Obedient and ... Searching. Her World and Beliefs had been Completely Undermined with the Death of Her god. She was Searching for a New Path. She did ask if Her husband had made the City in the Sky Whole Again." Brita notes. She adds, "She was Hospitible to me and Healed me to the Best of Her Ability."

"If Brennan is in Xanadu," Ambrose says, "I should also tell him that she has arrived." Brita can tell Ambrose is feeling a bit awkward about the prospect.

Random nods. "He's not here, but we can reach him, I think. First, Tir? Tir-Na nOgth? Tell me more about what was Brand doing with it." He points a bit of grapefruit between Brita and Ambrose, then stops at looks at it. "You kids hungry?"

Brita uncharacteristically shakes her head 'no'. She looks to Ambrose and leans forward intently.

Ambrose, unlike Brita, murmurs a quick agreement to Random's last question. He has, Brita imagines done a lot of Sorcery and Pattern-work over the last few days; it makes sense that he'd be starved. With Random's permission, he fills his plate as he answers Random's other question.

"My father was trying to repair the city in the sky. He believed it was damaged somehow, that it was somehow related to his master Dworkin, and that he could somehow undo whatever damage had been done to Tir. The parts of his notes that I've deciphered suggest that Tir was--off-harmonic was the word Brennan used when we discussed translating our father's papers using the code wheels. By weakening the fabric of reality, he hoped to force the harmonic back to its proper form." Ambrose finishes loading his plate and looks to Random to see whether he's following the explanation.

"Wow. Make sure you remind your mother that Tir is closed." He turns to his niece. "Brita, would you say these firelillies were the same as the ones in Arden? How far from Arden were you?"

"From the Description it Appears to be The Same. I am Not Sure how far we Were. I Trumped There, Cousin Ambrose Parted the Veil, and we Trumped Here," Brita notes.

[OOC - can one get a sense of distance from one of the reality points via Trump? I don't remember that in the books. Brita wasn't in the locations long enough to discern differences to Arden/Amber.]

[OOC: canonically, only vaguely. At great distances (Amber to distant Chaos, trumps feel like they're a long way away. Brita didn't get that feeling.]

Random nods. "Could either of you sketch it? It's starting to worry at me how far afield the flowers are getting."

"I can draw the place, and describe the markers of the path I took from Uxmal, but not with Brita's Art. And I can take someone back there by Parting the Veil, but that won't tell you how far it is either. It's difficult to determine distance sorcerously." Ambrose frowns a little at that confession; he doesn't seem to like disappointing Random.

Brita adds, "My Stay in the Place of Rain was too Brief, but I can Draw the Site where Cousin Ambrose's People were located. Was That where the Blood Lilly was Found?" she asks Ambrose.

"I found them near where I was attacked, or perhaps my passage was blocked, by the rain," Ambrose explains. "I don't think I'd crossed a shadow boundary; I had gone a little ahead, to see what was in my way. It is possible that I had slipped through a veil. If you wish to see them yourself, or have someone go there, I should be able to find the place again between Sorcery and shadowwalking."

Random nods. "OK, so it sounds like Ambrose has to get his people settled. Do you think they'll be more comfortable in the city or in the forest with Daeon's ki-- kinfolk? Either way, Brita, can you help him get started?"

"Certainly," Brita notes. "Would you Wish them Settled in Forest Rosinpast or Forest Broceliande? The forest Below the Timpani Cliffs may be Suitable," she suggests.

Random thinks about this for a moment. "So, here's the deal. What I want is for a generation or two from now, these people will be Xanadhavian with, at best, quaint ancestral traditions that lead them to hold an annual festival no more than once a year involving heavy drinking and parades.

"I really don't want them all alone and not assimilating. I want them becoming part of our rich cultural heritage. So that means that A) they need to be close enough to town that the kids come in for the music and stay for opportunity and B) they need to be where they can cosmopolitanly mix it up with others. I'm inclined to put them topside with the Lalallians, just to force the two groups to deal with strangers."

He looks from Ambrose to Brita and back. "Within those parameters and with those objectives, I trust you all to figure it out. You know them better than I do."

Ambrose bows, which conveniently hides any expression he might have on his face. "Yes, Your Majesty."

Brita's expression is completely open - her brow furrowed in thought but she nods and echoes Ambrose, "Yes, Your Majesty. Do you have Anything Else you Need from Us?"

Random shakes his head, once. "Isn't that enough? At least for now, I think. Once they get settled, you're going to need to bring some of the leaders to see me. Before they get too settled, in fact. Just to show the flag, as it were."

Brita nods and rises. She starts to turn to Ambrose, but then turns back to Random. "Uncle, Have You Heard from Cousin Robin? We have gotten Away from the Resolution of the Honor Duel. I have Spoken with My Brother and He has Agreed to Assist Us in Wording an Honorable Apology."

Random raises an eyebrow. It's amazing how unlike Julian the gesture appears when done by Random.

"Really? Well, he should be good at it. Will Robin accept an apology from Venesch, though?"

"Cousin Robin Just Wishes it Over." Brita does not say 'thus she is not even here'. "I Do Not think She Took the Offense Meant by Captain Venesch."

Random doesn't look like his normal happy self. "If he survives, he'll find no welcome at my court. I didn't offer him a position here before he decided to pull this crap.

"I'll either let him retire or make him the Ambassador to someplace cold and boring, I think." He smiles. "When Robin gets back from the mission I sent her on, I'll tell her to get on with the duel thingy. And if Venesch is unhappy with the delay caused by Robin's service to the crown, then I will act as stand in for her."

Brita cocks her head to the side, "I Understand your Reluctance, Uncle, But Captain Venesch is a Valuable Asset that it would be a Shame to Not Utilize to Your Benefit. Given his Skills, Perhaps a Teaching Position in a not Too Distant Shadow would be Worthwhile so that Your Warriors could be Sent to Train." She doesn't seem to be expecting an answer as she continues, "I will Relay the Delay to Cousin Jerod and Captain Venesch. We will Await Cousin Robin's Return." She bows and turns to leave.

Random looks unconvinced, but gives permission to depart to both Ambrose and Brita.