Celina gives Brennan and Fletcher a small tour of the passages around the Pattern chamber, noting the number and directions were also something that Moire required her to memorize, but not explore.
The stairway back upwards is a very long one, so she asks as they return to the central shaft, "So you have something to tell me about some mystery you discovered?"
Fletcher lets Brennan take the lead, but indicates with a gesture that he's fine with opening up to Celina.
"Some of this you know, some you've no doubt inferred," Brennan says, "but I'll give the capsule summary just so we all know what we all know." Generally soft-spoken, Brennan keeps his voice fairly low despite the location. "Since I've been here, one of my pet projects has been the supervision of a new military survey and a list of repairs and improvements to be made in the wake of Huon's failure. You'll have seen the reports.
"What's not in the reports," he continues, "is the other survey I've been taking, charting the Faiella-Bionin as best, and to the extent that, I can. It's a detectable phenomenon, as long as you're not too close to the Pattern itself. Here's the thing-- it comes in from Paris, and we know almost to a certainty that it's a ring road, but I haven't found the exit. Not for lack of trying, either, so it's probably some place fairly close. Having charted its length from the Paris Veil inward, against the natural contours of the sea bed, it's probably somewhere in the Triton Quarters. Two best guesses: Either a so-called sacred cave, guarded by Tritons or-- and this is my best guess-- under the Triton Temple.
"Either," Brennan notes, "Would explain why it's remained unknown and forgotten for centuries."
Fletcher adds, "The Patterns are the watchtowers on the wall of Order, defending Inspiration from Chaos."
"I can accept that," Celina offers. "So do you both intend to follow this ....extension of Bionin?"
Brennan glances at Fletcher to make sure he hasn't changed his mind since last they spoke, then nods. "I'll let Fletcher speak for himself, but I have several reasons. First, it's important that we all know more about this structure if we're to help maintain it against threats. Second, more directly for Rebma, it's just good policy to know where the road leads and what's at the other end instead of just theorizing about it. You can bet that Moire knows."
Celina expresses with her shoulders an 'of course' when Brennan speaks of Moire's ability to keep secrets. She looks at Fletcher.
Fletcher shrugs, "Heck, I've got an invitation even. You bet I'm going. I'm all for going as soon as we've met any outstanding obligations here in Rebma."
"Well, it would be a shame if you two miss the arrival of Uncle Huon," Celina smiles a bit. "Plus if you are here and seen publicly, you have something of an alibi in case he does get assassinated." She moves past the humor. "Certainly, you have my permission to explore. You may want to keep an eye out for anything hidden on the route. A small jewel that vibrates with unusual Order. Moire might have thought hiding something in a hidden place was a good idea whereas carrying it around was not."
"Of course," Brennan says. "Something tells me it won't be nearly that easy, but of course. Since you bring it up, however, let's be both pessimistic and assume that it isn't there, and optimistic and assume that Fletcher's and my geography is correct and that we come out in a Pattern realm defended by Benedict and adjacent to Tir-na Nog'th.
"When you conferred with King Random about it, he suggested that the omens of Tir-na Nog'th might be helpful in finding the thing, and that he would consider lifting the ban for such a trip, if we gave him a plan. I'm one of the few of our generation ever to have made the trip there, and walk its Pattern. I volunteer to make that trip." Brennan says.
"This does not constitute a full plan, but at a minimum I'd need a spotter on the ground in either Benedict's realm, or Xanadu. I would desire at least one companion, as well." If Brennan is thinking about Cambina, his expression is closed and it doesn't show, but he does glance at Fletcher. "And considering everything we now know about Tir-na Nog'th-- and everything we don't-- consultations before his final approval. Benedict, certainly. King Random, certainly. Fiona or Bleys, likely. If King Random is willing to entertain the notion, he'll surely have suggestions of his own."
"First we've got to actually find the path. Do we have time to poke around on this end before Huon arrives?"
"I should say so.... Conner will need to sleep," Celina brightens a bit at being able to talk about a successful walk, "and he's the lead in bringing Huon here."
Celina watches Fletcher to see his reaction to Brennan's proposals.
"Well, and nosing around is one thing, but I expect both of our prime targets will have Tritons set there specifically to keep interlopers out." There's an easy way and a hard way to deal with that-- Brennan is obviously hoping for the easy way.
Fletcher's responds instantly, since he remembered Brennan's concern from earlier. "But the Tritons are our friends, right?" He's looking at Celina and smiling.
Celina smiles back and nods once. "Yes. In so far as they have accepted my rule and rejected Moire. However, there may be some gray area there. There could be tritons that still follow orders from Moins. They might not even listen to the Hierophant if that is true."
If any surfacer in Rebma could manage to snort, it would be Brennan. But, knowing that Fletcher is joking, he has enough grace not to. "Nonetheless, a Royal Warrant, or at least Royal introduction, would probably smooth the way considerably. Opposition will be indicative of other problems... and it's perhaps best to get that indication early, if those problems exist."
Celina nods at that. "Yes. It will be an interesting experiment on many levels. After you enter the temple and show the credentials.... it makes sense to ask for an escort. If there is a division of oaths at the temple...well, it would be nice to find out before you are in front of the guardians." She thinks some more and sighs. "I suppose this would turn into a military adventure if it goes wrong. I'd have to enforce my desire to see you off on this route. How many troops do you want in reserve?" Celina presumes on the military expertise of her cousins now.
Fletcher tilts his head back and thinks for a moment. "It depends how quiet you want this to be. The larger the backup force the easier it will be if something goes wrong, but that numbers will also make waves. Having a large or easily to spot backup force may actually discourage violence."
"We can start with a small force-- just Fletcher and I-- keep it quiet, and scale up later if necessary. Hard to do it the other way around," Brennan says. "If we start big, everyone knows, before we even know what we find out."
"As you wish," Celina responds. "I'll have some ...muscle with me in case I get word things went straight to the trench. Since any single Triton you meet is more than a match for you individually, please be careful. I can make nice politics later. No dying allowed."
The whole point of the exercise is not to get into hand-to-fin combat with any Tritons, but Brennan does not look overly concerned about dying-- more concerned, he is, about inadvertantly making the whole escapade more difficult than it needs to be. "So, how do we want to play it? Wait for our cousin to speak with the Hierophant and then head for the temple, and/or the sacred cave?" Brennan looks at Fletcher and Celina, as it is a question to both. "And, erring on the side of wild optimism, assuming we find what we're looking for and press through to the other side, what then? How can we stay in contact?"
Celina nods. "I could walk there with you. Hierophant and then Sacred Way. There is no Trump of me," Celina offers, "so I was assuming I would hear from you by way of ...Llewella, when you arrive on the other side. If either of you have Trumps of yourselves that you would lend me, that's another possibility, but I thought such things rare." She adds, "Or I could give you mirrors that would speed your images to me. However, you must be careful with those. Others can see through them as well." She continues walking the long stair. She's not sure how much Fletcher knows about mirrors, but Brennan certainly knows enough to make an informed choice.
"The only one of me I know of is in the Xanadu booth," Brennan says. "Brita may be able to make another one for you, or for your own booth. I don't have one of Llewella, either."
"There are at least two of me out there, but not anywhere useful. I'm all for taking a mirror as long as we don't think there's anyone with mirror abilities out there particularly watching for us. I'm not sure how it works. Does someone have to be looking or would be be casually discoverable?"
"They need to be looking for you," Celina responds promptly. "And need to know what you look like. Unlike someone finding a Trump and having an image before them already. I shall have to speak to Brita. Conner was going to see about a Trump for arrivals in Rebma. I do not want to hold up the departure of Conner and Brita, however."
"It's possible Moire or one of her pets both knows what we look like, and considers us important enough to look for." Brennan sounds a little skeptical of that, but he is fond of exploring the edge cases of any situation. "But if we take one, I'll be carrying it in an opaque container. I'm a little concerned at the etiquette of the situation-- making a Trump of someone without permission is a hostile act, and bringing a Mirror into someone's realm could probably be construed as unfriendly as well. We'd probably not want to keep it a secret."
Fletcher optimistically adds, "Of course, if we get where we think we will, we could probably borrow a trump and call that way. Problem solved."
Brennan nods to Fletcher-- there's always a way. Some are just easier than others.
Celina slows her walk up the stair so that she is closer to the two men. She lowers her voice as if they were in her own chambers and her body speaks comforting rhythms that suggest she's left behind the trial of the Pattern and the tension of willing Conner to Live. "Fellows, I like Benedict. I like his Trump and his manner. I like his respect and that he has given me his blessing to save Rebma and be its Queen. The secrets you are looking for should have his approval if they strengthen ties between Rebma and Benedict's own Avalon. He expressed concern for Rebma, if only because the two realms are 'close'." She pauses and considers. "I expect you can borrow Trumps while there. That is how I thought you might call Llewella. I also approve of being transparent with adding Mirrors to his realm. I shall provide a mirror and a sturdy container. Since you will enter Benedict's realm from Mine, please give him my fond regards. Tell him his words to me upon my Queen's death were a welcome comfort I shall never forget."
Brennan nods. "Of course," he says. "And although you have access to his Trump through Llewella, if there are any additional messages or tokens, those can be delivered as well."
Celina returns to her room, gets the deck of Trumps and moves directly to the airy Cloud Chamber where she can best use them. Passing a page who makes eye contact with her, she has food sent to her rooms for later. Conner's walk and the vigil of the night before has left her famished.
Once in the Cloud Chamber, she uncants the cards and studies them for a bit. She sorts the redheads all together and traces the painted edges of hair, faces, brows. Setting them all side by side to take in as a group, there are many distinct differences between them. Or at least the artist has made such apparent to her. She gathers the Red Family and puts them away again.
Celina selects Random's card and sits down on a sponge lounger. She composes a few thoughts and hides a few others. "Uncle Random? I really need to talk to you at length. If this is a bad time I'll try again tomorrow this hour."
Random replies quickly. "OK. Anything urgent or immediately life-threatening? If not, would you like a sandwich? I'm in the kitchen at the moment. Genuine dry food..."
"It is not immediate at all but lives are at stake as usual," Celina nods as the image becomes the man. "Yes a sandwich sounds good."
She recaps a summary for Random of the taking of Oaths, the agreement of the Tritons, the arrival of Fletcher and Silhouette, and the agreement with Huon, including his message that without an escort to Rebma, he would fear to never arrive. She adds that Brita and Ambrose are also here safe.
The King passes Celina a plate, on which sits a giant stack of meat and cheese on a small piece of bread.
"Finally you should be pleased to hear that Conner has claimed Halsodyne by walking it through the Pattern here."
Random looks someone confused by the last bit. "I'll admit I know nothing about those things, but I'm glad Conner survived it. As for Huon, he's making a point, or probably several. Maybe to you, maybe to me, maybe to his allies. Maybe he's testing you. Maybe he's seeing how scared of him you are.
"What are you planning to do about it?"
Celina nods as Random notes that Huon is making several points. "I am thrilled Conner survived it. So in your scenario, if I was scared of him... I'd be terrified of his enemies, these faceless foes that will kill him before he can surrender to Rebma's service... I would not commit forces that I would certainly lose. The new queen would 'turtle up' in Rebma and let the agreement stand in principal instead of going to where he is now and bringing him to hand?" She thinks about other combinations of Huon's true desires and nibbles at the hillock sandwich. "Say, you make a tasty sandwich. I have two volunteers who are going to go get Uncle Huon and bring him back as he has pledged."
Celina remains fixed on Random's reactions and game face. She needs to learn his ways for the survival of her people.
"I am a longtime expert in putting meat in between cheeses, yes. You get practiced after a few centuries. Huon can't make it too difficult, because then you can put Brennan or Jerod in charge of his punishment. Volunteers from the crew you have to hand sounds excellent. If he gets them killed or seriously endangered, you, I, and your agents' parents will be significantly offended. If Martin were here, I'd say ask him, but he's away now.
"I'd actually worry more that he'd arranged things to insult someone when he was taken. I'd say a trump out of his hidey-hole would be a good idea."
She nods. "I expect that is exactly what Conner will do is Trump back to Rebma where we will have a ....proper surrender. I even hope that Huon will come to like working with Rebma and that I come to forgive him what he has done. It was you who really saved him." Celina actually puts some plain admiration in her tone.
Random bites into his own sandwich, swallows, then replies. "Yeah, well, there's no point in standing on principle if I only do it when I want to. It's not like I don't get something out of the deal, which is to say it affirms that I'm the one with high justice over family members."
He shrugs. "I'd say, as a bit of advice, don't let him think you care if he likes his sentence."
Celina smiles. "I'll consider that well, Huon will be a hard test for me. I need advice on a matter more dear. The jewel of Rebma needs to return to the city or I need to get it back myself. If you were going to search for such a singular essential thing, what experience can you share with me? I believe Moire has it right now though it may be dangerous to her."
Random raises an eyebrow. "You answered your own question. Get Moire, get it. And we know one way already to get her to expose herself." Random's grin is pure malice.
"Sink me if I do, Uncle," Celina responds smothering a grin at his sudden shift to hunter. "unless it is running to my father for protection, and that only tangles me up with His Rights." She leans forward. "Educate me... Please."
Random grins. "Lucas, your majesty. Finish that trump. Either she tries to take out your artist, or you've got a trump of her. Either you win or you win.
"You just have to find a stab-proof painter."
"No wonder I did not think of that," Celina sits back and yet tilts her head forward moreso in Random's direction, physically engaging him as if he were present. She is obviously surprised but not shocked, "it runs counter to everything people have been telling me about Family, let alone your wishes in this thing. So let me try to get this straight. It is reprehensible to make a Trump without permission. Hostile at the very least, but if I try to complete one that Lucas started....", she looks at him, "...this is clever necessity, not Family roguery? Or are you telling me that the survival of Rebma overreaches Family custom? That unsettles me." She adds, in case they are speaking more than theoretically, "That Trump is in Paris and I'm certain that Flora would not miss a chance to ...use it to get back at Moire."
Random shrugs. "I'm not sure you understand my wishes, then. If she's family, you'll know and can bring her in for a trial. Murdering Lucas puts her in a tougher position than even Huon. Flora has a claim, in addition to yours. If she's not, you'll also know and I wouldn't dream of interceding in internal Rebman matters.
"If I were vindictive, I'd put her on a pattern, and let her prove her right to family protection. However, she once spared my life. This is, to my mind, kinder than sending Conner after her with the Pattern sword."
Celina nods. "I did not see what you meant. You are saying she can only run so far. I could ...intervene with Father to get access to the portrait and perhaps offer a novel solution." She thinks about asking a Trump artist to investigate Lucas' work. How many would misinterpret, as she just did herself? She thinks about her mother trying to escape Aunt Florimel. How long can she hide? Flora knows her own Pattern abilities and has time and resources that Celina can't being to imagine yet. "Yet if she is not Family, she is fully under my authority by Family law. I see. So you won't stop Flora but you won't help her either. Yes, internal Rebman matters." Celina runs her thumb along the edge of the frame she is looking through.
"I do not think Father will do me that favor. He has claimed a neutral stance in matters related. But then he might, if he sees how it would benefit Mother to buffer her quickly from Florimel." For the moment she doesn't speak of how Flora might feel about Rebma's interference. "I would think Florimel asked him already about the half-Trump, or moved without asking, since she knows Father better than I do. But perhaps Paris does not have a ready Artist at hand. I think there could be another way to do what you are suggesting."
With her free hand, Celina's fingers dance a draped shape, a necklace dangling from her neck, a clear reference to the jewel. "Could you not use your jewel to provided a scry of Rebma's jewel? If I can get to Mother before Florimel, what you desire shall be more possible. I would not send Conner."
Random shakes his head. "Were it so simple, I would. Scrying is no science and is not a thing of Order, generally. What we call trump readings are probabilistic extrapolations of infinite shadow filtered through our attunement to the Pattern. If I could scry, I'd've found Corwin before I found Corwin, as it were."
The king raises his hand, forestalling complaint or question. "If it were missing, and especially if it were not something that someone who knew where it was had been paying attention to, I might be able to conjure it in shadow, but it'd be a sort of quest and I don't think things are settled enough here for me to pull on my Questing pants in the near future.
"Nope, I suspect that if you don't want to draw her out using a trump, then this may need to be an errand for your Knights Errant."
He pauses. "Actually if Moire needs someone to intervene with Flora, it would be Vialle. Just remind her not to talk to me about it until after."
"Yes, that would be better," Celina agrees. She tosses together ideas about Patterns and Trump readings and then sets it aside as the center of the Pattern is yet in a watery room. Trumps do not take kindly to sea water. "So Moire may need to keep it on her person in order to safe it from a higher calling from Family. This conjure you speak of?"
Random doesn't quite nod. "Not really. She just needs to be mindful of it and check on it. It needs to be improbable that it's been disturbed. Did the cleaning lady move it, did the gardener pawn it for cash? All those small probabilities add up over time.
He shrugs, not sure if he's really clarified matters. "If you give me centuries, the sword and rose that some Earther stole from Corwin after Eric left him to die in shadow will turn up in the back of a modified Mercedes with a fresh black cloak and a rose clasp while still deep in Arden.
"Sometimes I think we create shadows. I opened the box and the probabilities collapsed and the cat was alive. That day I created a cult of furtive Greyswandir worshippers, a tribe who had found the Nightblade centuries earlier where Corwin lost it to Eric's onslaught. They guarded it, and always made sure there was a fresh cloak, so that the Great God Corwin could one day become suitably attired in the back of a modified Mercedes.
"Did they exist before I needed them to create a past that might explain the probabilities I manipulated? I don't even know a way to test the theory. All I know is that I can do this thing pretty well. Probably because I am the most whimsical of my brothers. I work at this shite." He smiles, having no idea if he's actually helped or confused Celina.
Celina stares at him and stops chewing. So much of what he's said seems like a fable told badly, but she feels a twisting current rushing around her mind. Sand sloughs away from a gleaming thought that has obviously been sitting there a while. She swallows slowly. "Oh pearls." She feels hot and rushed. "We author need and kill opportunity that stands against us."
Random shrugs. "Ontology was never my strength, except perhaps in the most practical of senses regarding my continued pro-Random form of personal existentialism. Chaos implies unbounded creativity and unending destruction as well. Order creates continuity and persistence at the cost of some change. We are agents of the Pattern, which is the embodiment of Order. There's no reason to think that the tiny and infrequent impositions of Order that we make to benefit our personal convenience are more than a drop in the ocean of everything, or that they're any worse than any non-Random 'random chance' that would've happened anyway.
"In other words, don't sweat it." He pauses and grins. "Self-justifying solipsism, now that's a family strength."
Celina studies aspects of the idea as she might a jewel she's just inherited. She measures Random's tone of voice. "Random, you've freed my mind of sludge I didn't realize was there. I will sweat it later..." she adds the Rebman joke about the surface weather because he will get it, "...in Xanadu."
Celina continues. "Rebma needs a housecleaning that works in my favor. That may come under the heading of tiny and infrequent imposition of Order. I will be doubling the watch on the Bionin. I want motion and exchange between our lands. I'd appreciate it if persons coming from Xanadu had some official passage from you. Something that we both have agreed to? Such as they will always carry some note for me from Vialle? Is that to your liking? And persons from me to you? Should I send salt tea? Or jewelry? What would you like so that you know I've passed them officially?" She very carefully does not suggest that she will hold persons that don't have the right message or that she wants him to do the same. She thinks this man will agree that learning who doesn't ask permission is more interesting.
Random frowns, and thinks carefully for a moment. "Well, your city is connected to Paris, so this may be a conversation you want to have with Corwin. I'd suggest some sort of fosterage arrangement, or we can train each other's pages or somesuch, but I can pretty much guarantee that my granddaughter will not be allowed to spend her winters in Rebma. Not unless you convince her father of the advantages of it."
Celina nods. "Yes, I will talk to Corwin about it as well. I just foresee a time when I may need to know that a person showing up here with messages from you is who they say they are. The same will apply to Paris." She pauses but adds, "Fosterage is also an idea worth considering. I will think about convincing your granddaughter that Rebma has changed when I know it has changed. I'll let her convince her father."
Random looks surprised at the first and not surprised after her pause. "It's an interesting conjecture. I can't imagine anyone being foolish enough to pretend to carry messages from me without some sort of token, such as a ring or a sealed letter. In any case, anyone who wishes to have "The King of Xanadu has decided to make a project out of making your life miserable" as a doom is welcome to try. I suspect that the fact that we can talk like this makes it all sorta unlikely.
"Dad's trick was to be known as a Sorcerer King, and he pulled it off by being older than anything and not sharing too much. We all took advantage of it, in some ways. People were too in awe to pull crap on him. If you get a reputation for that, or for being deliberate, you'll be able to go off and check up on things before you make any pronouncements.
"And you never have to tell anyone you consulted with your crazy uncle before you decided." He grins, and looks up, past her. Random nods. "Anything else? I've got people coming."
"I thank you for your candor and some insight into the ways of your Father," Celina smiles. "You've been most helpful. There is one more thing. You've tied my hands in dealing with Huon violently, and I shall thank you for it now, even as it will cause me trouble here. However, there is not much said so far about Huon's allies. And if they are not Family, I presume that I can deal with them with a free hand. I shall be calling you to let you know what Huon shares on that subject. Indeed I presume that you'd like a chance to deal with them as well."
Celina doesn't try to explain the paradox of her thanking Random. But she is smiling throughout so he can see that she's quite satisfied with how this consultation has gone.
Some time after Conner's Walk, Brennan retreats to the dry room with his rather abbreviated pack of Trumps. Shuffling out a card, he bends his attention to the image of Fiona, and waits for the contact to complete. Assuming she answers, "Hello, Fiona. I trust all is well."
Brennan has a hard time making the initial contact, but once he makes it, Fiona strengthens it. It's sharp and clear.
"Brennan. All is well, if not bending to my will. How fare you, and how fares Rebma?"
"Stabilizing," Brennan says, "but quite a way from stabilized. Queen Celina's coronation was considerably less eventful than King Random's. All the Family members remaining in Rebma have made a quiet but firm show of unity, and those that wouldn't... aren't in Rebma anymore. The two great concerns as I see them, are Moire and Huon."
"I thought Silhouette was negotiating Huon's submission," Fiona says. She's holding focus fairly tightly on her face, so it's not clear to Brennan where she is. "How is that coming?"
"It's been negotiated," Brennan says. "Not entirely to my desire, but probably acceptable in the long term. The salient point is a twenty year term of house arrest, on an estate of Celina's choosing, with such relaxations or strictures as she deems. The other major points are a formal quit of whatever claims he thinks he has against Bleys, information about his allies, and," Brennan pauses for emphasis, "he places himself in the service of Rebma for the term of his arrest. He seems to think that the day after he arrives, he'll be put in supervision of rebuilding all the things he broke, and tried to break.
"At least, that's the deal we agreed to," he continues. "I have serious doubts that Silhouette is simultaneously an honest broker and a competent one. One of the details of the agreement was an escort into Rebma, for the supposed reason that without the escort, he fears he'll never make it to his term of imprisonment alive. That strikes me as ludicrous, given the man's arrogance; something was lost in communication, intentionally or not. There were a few other oddities as well-- his claim was quit against Bleys for supposed wrongs done against him and to his family, without elaboration of 'family' so we don't know if that means Pinabello or some other unknown saga. And his means of communication with Silhouette is curiously quick. If Trumps aren't involved, one direction or the other, then something else extra-normal is going on, and it behooves us strongly to find out what it is that works in a Pattern Realm that Huon and Silhouette have access to.
"Were it my decision, he'd serve his twenty years in house arrest, stripped naked but for stout chains in stone anchors, tended by Triton guards. But the deal is what it is," Brennan concludes, "and I'll be fascinated to learn for certain who was helping him with all this."
"I'd ask if that was part of the deal, but we can't believe a word from Huon's mouth. Celina is generous, after Random's model, but he deals from a position of strength. Not so with her." Fiona purses her lips slightly. "And I'll believe his quit-claim against Bleys exactly never."
Brennan doesn't argue, because within a fair tolerance he agrees with everything she said. But still, the deal is what it is.
She changes the subject. "Could he be using a bird of desire to speak with her, do you think?"
Brennan frowns, thinking the phrase over. "I'd have to know what that is before I answer," he admits.
"It's a trick of advanced Pattern use--not terribly advanced, mind, or Huon couldn't use it--" a comment which Fiona makes with a wry twist of her lips "--but one youngsters are unlikely to stumble on on their own. Huon is old enough to have learned it from Dad before he fell from favor. One creates a bird from one's own blood using the power of the Pattern to shape reality. Because they're a trick of Pattern use, they don't necessarily fail in the presence of a Pattern."
Brennan considers the idea, and almost answers before an idea strikes him. Then again, and another, his thoughts growing colder with each turn. "It is surely not necessary that such a construct be a bird," Brennan says, "if some other form is more convenient or desireable. But is it necessary-- is it strictly necessary-- that the blood be one's own?"
"I have not tried it any other way. But I believe, as a matter of theory, it could be done with the blood of any Pattern wielder," Fiona says. "Or possibly one potentially suited to walk the Pattern. The blood and the will of the Pattern initiate are key."
"Marius," Brennan says. "I was thinking of Marius, and that business with the blood construct in Rebma's Pattern chamber. Marius would never consent to such a thing, much less will it, but if he were made to be unconscious, he could not strictly oppose it either."
"Considering what appears to have been done to Marius, using enough blood to make a bird of desire seems to be a minor additional indignity. I don't doubt Huon would have or could have, depending on when he made the bird, but it doesn't take that much blood and it's traditionally done with the initiate's own." Fiona's tone is a bit tart. "In any case, if that's what's going on, you'll need an experienced initiate to find out where it's going and what it's doing, or something of equal power."
"All in all," Brennan says, coldly, "it is perhaps for the best that I intend to depart before Huon arrives. The best way to move past the glacial anger at the idea of Marius being used in this perverse fashion is to move on from the topic, so Brennan follows Fiona's topic shift.
"But that does leave the question open of how to guard against it. Is there anything worth telling me to relay to Celina?" Brennan asks. The other alternative is that Celina would have to ask Llewella, or perhaps even Fiona herself. Brennan suspects rather strongly that Fiona will not want to be entangled directly in Rebman politics, but might not mind being owed a favor from either Brennan, or a Cousin with a Throne.
"She'll need," Fiona repeats, but without the tartness, "an experienced initiate to find out where the blood bird is going and what it's doing, probably by following it, or she'll need something of equal power, like mirrors or sorcery. Intercepting it to find out what it's carrying isn't impossible but it's not trivial."
Brennan gives a transparent ghost of a smile, nods, and says, "Understood." Although that does rather trim down Celina's options for the near future. Having exhausted that topic of discussion rather early, Brennan pauses to consider. Long enough that Fiona will easily register the pause, as he considers whether or not to bring something up.
In the end, he decides against it, or at least decides to postpone it. Either way, there's a change of topic. "I do have another topic," he says. "I've suspected it for a while, but recent comments have made it pretty clear that the Faiella-Bionin runs in a ring. That's my imminent departure-- I have a good idea where the other link from here is. Or so I think." Brennan will describe his technique if Fiona indicates interest. "Advice for a departing nephew?"
Fiona is interested in the topic but this is clearly not a good time.
"Speak to Conner about his departure from Rebma when he fled the Tritons, and whichever of Celina's kinswomen set them on him-- a matter that I suspect he will be clearing up sometime soon. And travel safely; if your suspicions are correct--" which Fiona does not seem to doubt "--Benedict may not be looking for company."
Brennan nods slowly. "I see. Well. That might not be entirely a bad thing," he says, "as one reason for the trip is our conjecture that Moire knows the route and may have used it, or be using it. Still, Fletcher and I will be careful. I'll let you know should we run across anything interesting."
"Do that. Safe travels, Brennan, and give Conner and Brita my love until we all meet again." Fiona closes the connection, which she has kept tight on her all along.
After Conner's Patternwalk and the discussion that follows it, it will become apparent to those close to him that Brennan is preparing for a departure. Plans already set in motion-- the mapping and future plans for rebuilding, most especially-- are given a final shove into self-sustenance. Or if not that, shoved far enough to glide for a time until he returns or Celina appoints someone else to head it up or wind it down. Supplies are gathered, equipment is packed in that peculiar fashion that the scions of Oberon have, taking essentials and nearly ignoring the rest so that probability manipulation will be easier.
And last conversations, for coodination, are had. One of those is Conner. Brennan would be loathe to leave without saying goodbye, after the battles they've fought and the Patternwalks they've witnessed, and he knows Conner has a job to do, as well. Brennan invites Fletcher, also.
"Conner," Brennan says, when they meet. "I'm not sure which of us will leave first, but I wanted to say farewell... and ask your advice."
Fletcher is present and cordial, and is trying to avoid interrupting so Brennan can take care of business.
"Make sure you do it in the right order." Conner smiles. "Some advice is best given in person after all. What can I do for you both?"
"Our intent is to continue the hunt for the other leg of the Faiella-Bionin as soon as is practical," Brennan says. "I got two pieces of advice: First," glancing at Fletcher, "if it goes where we think it does, that Ben might be averse to company. Second," back at Conner, "that should ask about your own departure from Rebma some time back. That's a story I'm aware exists, but I don't think I've ever heard the details."
Fletcher raises both eye brows and listens carefully.
"I told that story so many times when I first came to Amber that I almost penned it as a penny dreadful so I could just hand out copies." Conner chuckles. Conner invites them all to get comfortable and with a libation if desired before beginning his storytelling. "So here is the tale. It all started with a break-in at Llewella's townhouse. The place had been ransacked and every mirror or reflective surface had been destroyed. As First Secretary of the Amber Embassy I was allowed, on sufferance, to observe the investigation of the break-in. My subsequent investigations got me noticed, which was the back-up plan for gaining information. I felt sure I could watch any watcher or overpower any assailant. Alas, what was sent after me was two Tritons in masks. I'm sure it came as a great surprise to them that I put up as good a struggle as I did but it was largely a one sided pummeling of myself. They swam off after a contingent of the city watch showed up."
Conner pauses to take a sip of his drink. In Rebma, this is a polite affectation as one's throat going dry simply does not happen. "I spent most of the next day healing up and met with Thalia, ambassador for Gateway and complicated lover of mine, for supper. She reported hearing the oddest rumors about me going around the court. 'There is no reason to assume that Secretary Conner is running a smuggling ring out of the Amber Embassy.'" Conner chuckles. "Damning me with craftily worded truth. Since it was clear that I was being set up to take a fall, I accepted Thalia's offer for refuge in a safe house she knew of as we both felt that Ambassador Droit would offer only token resistance if any if they came for me.
"After leading me there, Thalia said that she knew of one that could lead us out of the city and said that she would fetch him to me." Conner explains. "I watched her through the Eye of Rebma and saw that she met with Harga'rel, ex-husband of Rilsa of Rebma and general thorn in Moire's side. I also saw them both ambushed by masked Tritons. Thalia was kidnapped by them while Harga'rel was knocked unconscious. I rushed to the scene and arrived just as Harga'rel was waking up. We collected a brace of men and a set of crossbows from the Gateway Embassy and swam off after them. After a brief battle the two tritons were slain and Thalia was released. We sent the Embassy staff back to the Embassy and the three of us decided to make for the way out Harga'rel knew since it was nearby.
"Now we come to the part of the story you really wanted to hear." Conner smiles. "He led us into the Triton quarters. There was a cave entrance we were making for but it was guarded by a Triton. We made it past him and into a water filled tunnel too narrow for the Triton to follow. It stretched on with breathable water for far longer than I thought Rebma's influence should stretch. It sloped upward and eventually came to a dry cavern with another tunnel leading on from it. It bears mentioning that I attempted to manipulate probability within the tunnel and could not.
"We eventually emerged on a cliff top overlooking the ocean. There was an mountainous island in the sea about 20 miles off shore with a castle perched on its height." Conner went on. "We came down off the mountain and found a fishing village. We could not understand the language of the people there. They however recognized the sound of Thari and became angry when they heard it. We retreated and were followed by a local shepherd that spoke some Thari. The Black Road had come to this shadow and those that lived on the island fought against it. However, they were also blamed for the black road fighting by the local population. In the night sky, you could see Tir off in the distance. I attempted to reach the island with a boat that I was certain was in a nearby cove but the winds and waves rose against me despite my attempts to shadow shift a path there. With no other options at the time, I abandoned the attempt to gain access to the island and sailed to Amber."
Conner pauses. "Any questions before I tell you the reactions to that tale in Amber?"
"Just quick observations," Brennan says. "Questions come later. First, if Harga'rel knew about this passage, then Rilsa did. If Rilsa, then Moire. And probably the rest of the Rebman ruling family, with the possible exception of Celina. Which only confirms our initial guess. Second, the Sacred Cave is a confirmed entry point... and I wouldn't be surprised if it and the Temple were connected. But now we have a known target. Third, it sounds like Benedict didn't want company even then. Fourth, more evidence that the Black Road was an assault on all Second Order Patterns-- I shudder to imagine what was happening in the Moonshadows at that time."
Fletcher grins. "He may not want company, but he did invite me. And he mentioned an island."
"He also claimed that he knew about this land but had not been there in some time." Conner supplies. "When Benedict took a young Martin from Rebma, that was the route they took. Martin had completely forgotten about it until I made mention of it. Benedict also claimed a failing memory when pressed for details about the route. I believed Martin more than Benedict at the time but decided that trying to get more out of either one would have been wasted effort."
Brennan gives a long, blank stare at the mention of failing memories, but does not waste breath or time commenting on how unlikely that is. "I hadn't been aware that Benedict was involved in Martin's departure," he says.
"Then I am glad to have so enlightened you." Conner replies easily. "So now that you have both heard my tale, how does this influence the plans for your trip around the Faiella-Bionin?"
Fletcher ponders. Either Benedict was lying or his memory was faulty. Fletcher, unencumbered by notions of parental infallibility, is prepared to accept either notion. "Well it certainly tells us where to start."
"Tells us we're either going to need Celina's personal authority, or some other plan to get past a Triton guard," Brennan says, "If not both. It suggests to me that it's possible to block someone's path even very close to a Pattern, too." He frowns. "For some reason, I had always thought of that happening farther away, not in the Pattern realm itself." The frown lessens for a moment as Brennan ponders something, before snapping back to the present: "Hmph. I wonder if it can work the other way, blocking someone's path outward."
"Barriers are rarely one way." Conner agrees. "Making travel difficult should occur independent of direction I would think. Of course, that would depend entirely on the method used. What do you think was happening?" Conner asks.
Brennan starts to answer easily, then hesitates to think a moment before answering.
"It sounds like someone blocking access to the Island with Pattern manipulation, and my initial thought is that it was done by Benedict. That's quite an assumption, though, that Benedict was in residence at the time," Brennan says. "Here come the questions: When was this, exactly? I infer that it was after the Black Road appeared, but before Oberon set it right. From an Amber/Rebma perspective, probably about the time I was off fighting in the Courts, yet? Also, you mentioned that you were unable to shift Shadow on the path between here and there, but it also sounds like you were able to shift Shadow once you were out of the tunnel, is that right?"
"I arrived in Amber in the fifth year after the Sundering." Conner answers. "Random and the army and you for that matter returned to Amber early in the sixth year post-Sundering. Now assuming that the the time streams in Chaos were running proportional to ours is an unwise, but taking that as a premise Benedict and the rest of you should have been in the middle of the big battle at the Abyss. It would match with Benedict's statement that he knew the land but had not been there in some time."
Brennan nods-- that is the obvious flaw in the Benedict-was-blocking theory.
Conner pauses to consider. "As for the shadow shifting, I can say for certain that is was impossible within the tunnel. Aside from trying to Pattern away the offending waves and weather, I did not try shadow shifting or probability manipulation with the shadow but I certainly did not have to travel far to find a moored boat as I desired to find."
Fletcher makes a mental note. "OK we'll examine it a little closer this time around."
"Definitely. We already know both Conjury and Sorcery work in the leg from Paris to Rebma," Brennan says. "It might be useful to try in the leg between Paris and Xanadu, as well," although Brennan carefully doesn't sign himself up to that.
"So where does that leave us," Brennan asks.
Fletchers look around, confirming the answer is still Rebma.
"With mysteries to be solved of course." Conner chuckles. "I rather envy you off on your metaphysical errand while I deal with the more practical problem of collecting and discreetly jailing an uncle. I do hope that goes smoothly for I have puzzles of my own I would like to look into."
Fletcher is surprised. "Discreetly? I thought some degree of pageantry would be required to appease the populace."
"Oh there will be a parade of him with an honor guard of Tritons guiding him through the city streets." Conner confirms. "But we walk a fine line here. If we don't want to go to the extremes of Corwin's incarceration and on several levels we do not, then the remaining option is a balancing act of making things harsh enough that the Rebman populace feels Huon is being punished while at the same time endurable enough for Huon to feel that abiding by the terms of his sentence is preferable to breaking them. So by discreetly jail, I mean for the jail itself to be sufficiently discreet such that my dear Uncle does not realize just how tight the net is woven about him until the moment he tries to swim off." Conner twirls his fingers on Halosydne's hilt. "I never did like signing up for the easy jobs." He grins.
"There is no shortage of Cousins, Uncles, and Aunts willing to take charge of his incarceration should he prove not to understand the realities of the situation," Brennan says. "But on the subject of Huon: Are either of you familiar with the term 'Bird of Desire?'"
"Some time ago Corwin was fond of the idea. I felt paper airplanes of desire would be more efficient," Fletcher replies without a hint of sarcasm.
"Making a paper construct of desire probably isn't ideal for an underwater environment," Brennan says, with a dryness that would be difficult to match given the surroundings. "Making something of one's own blood, however, would suffice. We were wondering how Huon and Silhouette were communicating-- that's Fiona's informed speculation. If that's what's going on, it will be no easy task to keep him from doing it while in otherwise secure custody, even here in Rebma. Not easy to intercept it, either, but if possible..."
"Where there's a will there's a way. I've never been one to let a little water get in the way." Fletcher comments, standing there underwater in a full suit and tie. "Still, if it is a question of blood (and I wouldn't want to start throwing my blood around, but maybe Huon does) once you know what to look for it should be possible to spot it. Blood of power should be detectable, and of course there are ways of tracking blood in water. Does Celina have any trained sharks?" Fletcher's tone indicates that he'd be surprised if Celina didn't have trained sharks.
"When you have Tritons at your beck and call why bother with sharks?" Conner shrugs. "They have a fairly keen sense of smell so they might serve for that purpose. Else I'll make a side trip for some while I'm walking in shadow."
"I'll be fascinated to hear your end of the conversation that tries to explain the concept to the Tritons, especially where you try to get them to repeat your instructions back to make sure you're understood. My Mabrahoring's a bit rusty for the fine details required," Brennan says. "I'll admit, the shark idea holds some appeal. Even so, I've relayed what I need to relay: they're reputed, by Fiona, to be rather difficult to intercept or interdict. She suggested either an advanced Pattern initiate, or perhaps an advanced Mirror initiate."
"If Mother considers it difficult, then it must be so." Conner replies lightly. "As for the sharks, I'll remind you that while they were magical constructs, Huon brought sharks to fight against Rebma scant days ago. I think I'll take my chances with the Tritons and the skills of the court."
"Message sent, then," Brennan says. "Good hunting, and lock the bastard down tight. If he acts up, give him a clout to the head for me, too."
Fletcher adds, "and seriously lock down those communications. Last thing we want is him coordinating an invasion from within."
Last modified: 30 April 2012