At first glance, Signy can easily discern that Xandau's smithy is a temporary one; the large wooden structure little more than a roof on thick posts. A nearby building site hints at its true purpose -- the smithing of tools and fittings to be used in future construction. Even so, the hearth now burns and sparks, the chimney blenching out coke-heavy smoke into the air. The fire's bright heart outlines a worker, who patiently heats a metal plate to a crimson glow.
Once satisfied, the worker turns.
Even beneath the soot and bruises, the woman is beautiful - like an avatar of Athena come to earth. With a craftsman's skill, she carries the red metal to the anvil and sets it down.
And then she does something so intrinsically wrong that it would seem madness has overtaken her.
The woman discards the tongs and then steadies the metal with her bare hand. Holding it down, she begins chiseling into its softened surface. She turns the piece as needed - taking full advantage of the added dexterity provided her.
A slender woman with dark hair pulled back and gathered in a severe if short pony tail approaches the forge, a canvas bag slung over her shoulder. She glances curiously at the person working the forge, a brief assessment before she makes her way to one of the other free workspaces before dropping the bag, the set of serviceable smith's tools inside making a familiar clanging rattle.
She looks around the workspace, eyeing the layout, before reaching into the bag and pulling out a hammer that looks improbably heavy and unwieldy, yet she handles with casual ease. She pauses and reaches back in and pulls out a pair of stout leather gloves, and slips them on her hands as she makes her way over to the pile of ingots waiting to be heated and given shape. Another curious glance at the stranger, before turning her focus to the metal, emerald green eyes starting to light up with an intense joy as she uses the hammer to gently push aside bars before unearthing the ones she wants.
Collecting the three prizes she makes her way over to the fire, becoming more engrossed in the actions of the woman as she gets a better view of what she's doing. She thrusts the one four foot long piece in the heart of the fire to start heating after giving it a critical glance to make sure that it has been stoked hot enough for her purposes, before turning and becoming fully engaged in the actions of the smith in front of her.
"I must say, I've never seen that particular technique before," she says, somehow managing to be heard over the background noise without raising her voice appreciably.
Perhaps the woman didn't hear the question, as she does not answer immediately. She continues to tap and twist the edge of her chisel through the cooling copper. With a triumphant nod, she dips the metal into the slurry bucket beside her anvil -- an acrid plume of steam rising up.
"Forgive my rudeness," she says, raising her head. Sweat beads across her delicate brow, creating a complex lattice in the soot-covered skin. "I had only moment left before the metal cooled too much."
While drying of her hands on a filthy rag, she gives Signy an appraising look. Her iron gaze soon softens to one of genuine solidarity -- perhaps more. "I discovered my talent in the slave-pits of Babilu. A skill prized highly by the Iron Dragons, as I would soon discover. They are such vain creatures, particularly about their temporal scales. For them, cold-etching simply would not do."
Her hand now relatively clean, she offers it to Signy, "I am Silhouette."
Signy casts an appraising eye over the finished piece as she reaches out to clasp the offered hand. Slender, graceful fingers press Silhouette's as firmly as the hand of any master smith's. "I'm Signy," she replies.
She nods her head towards the plate. "Fine work, though. How long have you been at it?" She unconsciously reaches out to the iron heating in the fire, shifting it quickly. "Just trying to keep sharp, or do you have other plans for it?"
Silhouette begins cleaning oil and filth from the plate, "I am creating a tactile puzzle for the Queen. This is a piece thereof. She showed me a kindness and I intend to return it. And yes, it does allow me the opportunity to hone my skills."
She glances over at Signy's heating metal, a wistful smile warming her features. "I have been working in the forges since I was eleven. That is..." She pauses, chuckling. "Twenty-five years now? I am not certain. Time passes differently in Shadow.
"And you, Signy? How long have you worshipped at the altar of smoke and steel?"
Signy shrugs diffidently, and pokes briefly at the iron. "Since I was old enough to start carrying wood and tools for my father, who taught me what I know." She looks away for a moment before looking back at Silhouette. "Though I've spent the last few years leading a Band of Heroes, and haven't had much chance to do any smithing. I need to replace my dagger, though, and I should make Red Fox Claws a sword if I'm going to start dragging him around with me again."
The last she delivers in a slightly rueful tone of voice.
Silhouette chuckles warmly, a touch of envy in her eyes.
"How was the Queen -- has she suffered any continued ill effects from her abduction?" Her tone sharpens as she focuses in on this question.
"Abduction?" Silhouette replies. "She never mentioned abduction. But that certainly does explain her reluctance to speak of her injuries."
Her lip draws to a thin line for a moment. The moment passes; replaced by a certain peacefulness. "The Queen is mending well. Our walks are perhaps the most enjoyable moments of my day and do us both well, I think. I have not noticed any ill effects as of yet."
Silhouette tilts her head, "Who took her?"
Signy shrugs. "I don't think anyone really knows for certain. She was in a realm of portents or dangerous fantasy, depending on who you talk to."
She glances sideways at Silhouette. "So how did you go from being a slave in Shadow to crafting something for the Queen?"
"Blood," Silhouette replies, iron in her voice. "My own and that of others."
She walks over to the forge and thrusts her hand into the flame. The skin darkens, but when she pulls it out again, Signy can see it is only soot. "When I recognized Phoenix's blessing, I began using it to my advantage. I could crawl inside the Iron Dragons and build or repair their hot innards, where no other could survive. I poured out my heart's blood for them, working tirelessly. Made them stronger. More powerful. Provided them with added life. And all the while befriending them. For, although they were glorified war machines, the Dragons were revered by the Babilu people. And, by extension, I shared in that veneration. In time, this allowed me to free myself from servitude - replacing my Overseer after he met with a tragic... accident." She blows the soot and ash from her hand, a sly smile at the corner of her mouth.
"Time passed quickly after acquiring my freedom and soon an opportunity presented itself to travel into Shadow. I took it and established myself as an artificer, making my living as such for some years until a few months ago, when Lord Huon commissioned me to supply his army with weapons. After his loss in Rebma, he requested that I act as his emissary and negotiate his surrender to the King. And that, in turn, led me to the Queen. I would tell you how I actually met the Queen, but the circumstances are rather embarrassing."
She laughs musically, blushing. "Forgive me. I suspect you wished a less verbose answer."
Signy gives a good-natured laugh. "I'm getting the idea that in this family, there really isn't an option for less verbose answers....
"Did your travels ever take you to Gateway," she asks in a deceptively casual tone of voice.
Silhouette grins, warming even more to this woman. But to her question, she shakes her head. "I fear not. My travels were - by nature - determined by Fate. Like a leaf carried along by a vast river."
She tilts her head, eyes bright with interest. "Would you tell me of it?"
"Gateway? I've never been, but my brother was there." Her tone cools, her interest fading.
She cocks her head quizzically at Silhouette. "You talk about Fate and Chance almost as if they're living things. I don't think I've heard anyone else in the Family talk in quite that way."
Silhouette glances at the forge's radiance with passing concern. She moves to run the bellows, maintaining Signy's super-heated flame with fresh blasts of air. "'Living' things? No. Not in the strictest sense, anyway," she admits, muscles working in precise rhythm. "If anything, they are the means by which Order directs us toward our Purpose. Indeed, this is one of the many paradoxes I struggle with daily; walking the thin line between science and faith. There is no empirical evidence to substantiate my belief in Draig Talamh - my Manifestation of Order, as it were. And yet I witness signs of her influence in my life, usually when I least expect it."
She wipes the sweat from her brow, "How do you view them?"
Signy nods her thanks as she works the bellows. After a couple more seconds, she judges the metal hot enough to pull out, and in a series of swift, economical strokes hammers out a rough edge on the metal.
As the ringing of the hammer dies off, she shrugs in Silhouette's direction. "I think that Fate and Chance are more artifacts of your power, your ability to impose your will on your surroundings and those in it," she notes. "For those with the ability and the will, you can shape events and people as I do on this piece of metal." She gestures at the heated iron, starting to change from a rounded bar into a one with defined edges.
"With the power that we have as a birthright, how can it be otherwise?" This last is delivered perhaps with more force then strictly necessary.
Silhouette smiles, as if this answer pleases her. As she watches Signy work, she speaks in a calm, reverent tone, "'The metal is naught save for the hammer that shapes it. The hammer is naught save for the stretch of thine arm and the skill of thine hand. And the arm and hand are naught save for the strength of thine will.' I found those words written in a slave shrine when I was twelve. Even today, they give me comfort."
She glances up, "You mentioned our 'birthright.' Do you speak of the Pattern?"
Signy nods. "It gives you the ability to reach out and change the stuff of the Universe, and make it how you want in so many ways."
She delivers a few more ringing blows to the metal, before putting it back into the fire to heat further.
Silhouette silently resumes her work at the bellows, intently listening to her companion.
[Signy]
"Of course, it's never quite as simple as just wishing for what you
want, though there's nothing there that tells you that."
She offers a half-hearted shrug, clearly frustrated with the inefficiencies of the system but becoming resigned to the status quo.
"All Great Works require labor and sacrifice," Silhouette says. "Otherwise, they are hollow victories. Even for gods."
With a few hard pulls, she brings the forge to brilliant heat, and then slows her pace to maintain a steady temperature. "Have you actually traversed the Pattern? Is that what they call the process?"
Signy offers a tight, humorless smile. "It's called Walking." The formality of the term comes through clearly to Silhouette. "There is nothing hollow or false about the process. It's earned, step by painful step."
She pokes at the metal bar aimlessly. "After having gone through it, I think I know how the metal feels after being formed at the forge." She favors Silhouette with a curious look. "I take it you haven't yet Walked -- has the King talked about it with you?"
Silhouette shakes her head, "He has. And, no, I have not. Indeed, were it not for Lord Huon, I doubt I would have been reconnected with the Family. Although, I believe Flora would have preferred her daughter had remained lost in Shadow." She gives a dark laugh and shrugs.
"The King suggested that once my duties for Huon conclude, he might allow me to take the Walk. I am eager for the opportunity."
She tilts her head, "You do not appear entirely pleased by this Power. Did you Walk the Amber Pattern?"
Signy shakes her head in the negative, a few locks of hair working free. "It's more a little frustrated at trying to find someone that can tell me which end is up." Her eyes lose focus, turning inwards. "And for all that you have this power, even it has its limits." Her laugh matches the one that Silhouette gave just moments ago.
"I wonder if parenting skills, or lack of them, is also a Family trait as well...."
Silhouette offers an adherent grin. "After meeting my peers, I believe that particular trait has circumvented our bloodline at every turn. And yet, they are never cheap with their advice. Pity that most of it is nothing more than threats veiled as familial wisdom. We are glorious beasts with razored smiles."
She crosses back to the anvil, leaning against the comforting metal. "Are you bound to the Family by your father or your mother? If I might ask such of you, cousin."
Signy's lips pull back in malicious grin at her observation as she pulls the reheated iron back out of the forge.
She hammers at the iron with perhaps a bit more force then is necessary. "My mother was Dierdre, killed by Brand. Though apparently my father was not unknown to the Family and crafted weapons for them at one point." She delivers one last ringing blow, coaxing a bit more definition of the blade out into the open before putting it back into the fire.
"So now, I have a brother that I've never known to replace her." With some effort, she forces herself out of her bitter reverie. "What about you?"
"My half sisters and my father were murdered just before I was taken as a slave," Silhouette says flatly, resuming her forge duties. "I knew my mother for some years prior to that. But she only rarely spoke of Amber, and even then only in cryptic anecdotes.
"Like you, I remained unaware of my brother's existence. However, he met with an unfortunate end before I could meet him. Lucas. I suspect you may have attended his recent funeral."
She continues to work the bellows with one arm, tireless and steady as a waterwheel. A dark laugh escapes her, "How wretchedly vaudevillian. You left only with a brother you do not know and I left only with a mother that would not know me at all. That makes us like sisters, I suppose." Her smile is cheerless, yet her dark eyes possess warmth.
"Have you encountered Brand's get?" she asks.
Signy nods curtly. "Yes, I want from Cambina's funeral to his, for whatever that's worth." She fails to elaborate further on this, pulling the sullen yellow piece of metal back out of the forge for further work. She focuses on the metal, delivering a series of swift blows that finishes forming the outline of a sword before pushing it back into the fire.
"Sir Brennan was the third member of the family I met," she notes. "Fortunately, I met him before I knew the full story of who killed my mother, and had that to color my impressions.
"Why would your mother not welcome you back?" A note of frustration wars with the sympathy in her voice.
Silhouette lifts her head with steely pride. "She refuses to acknowledge me as her daughter, dismissing me as some doppelganger conjured by Huon to tug at her heart." A wry laugh escapes her, "I doubt a wunderkind could pluck a tune from those strings, so the very thought is fanciful."
She continues to feed the forge, smiling faintly at her companion. "I did not help matters, if truth be told. My first words to her were not kind. But then again, how does one civilly inquire of their mother, 'Did you even care that I died?'"
An absent shrug, "I do not require Flora's love or affection. I do not care to return to her arms as her daughter. I am no longer that eleven-year old child. That little girl is nothing but ash now.
"What I do require is an explanation. That much she owes me."
"I wonder if any of our cousins actually grew up with their parents," Signy muses.
She focuses a level gaze on Silhouette. "And if an explanation is not forthcoming, or is...lacking?"
Silhouette meets Signy's gaze, resolute and guileless. "Then I shall move forward and expunge that part of my life. We are eternal, after all. We can ill-afford to allow our wounds to fester or we shall suffer unendingly. Nor will I provide my mother that satisfaction. The sin was hers. She should be the one to bear it. Not I."
She jerks a nod at the forge and the metal within.
Signy nods absently, though doesn't immediately pull the metal out. "It would seem that a wound to one is a wound to all," she notes quietly. "I've been reading Cambina's histories when I have the time -- our Family does not internalize wounds overlong, perhaps a drawback of our being eternal. How long can something fester when you don't have the looming spectre of a too-short lifetime to provide a sense of perspective?"
"Perhaps you should speak with Lord Huon on that particular subject," Silhouette says. "I believe his perspective differs immeasurably."
[Signy] cocks her head slightly, as if hearing an alarm clock in her head, before pulling the iron out and deftly hammering out an edge along one side, a sweeping, curved blade that when sharp will be a wicked thing. Glancing critically at it she shrugs, and thrusts it into a quenching barrel. "Not my best, but I've not held a hammer in a while," she notes to nobody in particular.
Silhouette offers Signy a supportive smile, "I understand. The restrictive paradigms here have forced me to utilize my old skills to complete even the most mundane tasks. It is an intriguing challenge, but creates tedious work. And yet, I find I have missed the hammer in my hand. The anvil's music in my ears." She chuckles warmly, her gaze lingering on Signy. "And the company of my peers."
She crosses the room and began to rummage through the blocks of raw iron. "Oh, what I wouldn't do for but a handful of black sand right now." She turns her gaze back to her companion, "Will I lose you to soon? I mean, will you be returning to your military unit?"
Signy gestures with the hammer. "There were artificers that would come through and try and impress my father with some marvel or another, but he never had any interest in anything outside of the forge that I saw."
She gives one last critical look at the blade before putting it aside and joining Silhouette by the iron bars. "Still, it feels a lot better then I thought it would to be actually making something. And with the ability to go to anywhere and spend centuries at further developing my craft...." Her voice trails off, leaving the rest of the thought unfinished.
She shakes her head to clear the brief reverie, before selecting a couple of likely candidates to bring back to the forge. "No, the Band is no longer an avenue for me," she answers Silhouette's last question belatedly. "I spent several days away from the Towers, and years had passed. At this point, I fear that the only one left is Red Fox Claws, and only because he came here with Sir Brennan."
The last name elicts a faint frown, but it passes quickly. "If your past is now many years behind you, as you say, and you have unlimited years before you... then what Purpose shall you set before you now?" Silhouette asks, her smile returning.
Signy offers a determined smile. "First thing is to learn about this Pattern, and maybe also to see if I can find any trace of my father. I still have some questions I would pose to him."
A couple of bars are pulled and looked at, before being put delicately to the side with a slight air of distaste.
"And I think I'd like to spend some more time at the forge, I think." Her voice trails off, as she looks inward. "I think that some may have interest in these arts, as you seem to have found."
"'Set thy bricks upon strong foundations and mix thy mortar with your blood and sweat,'" Silhouette says softly, gazing into the forge's burning heart. A faint smile touches her lips. "Find your father, Signy. If only to know upon what ground the structure of your life rests - be it stone or sand. With that Illumination, you may begin your Great Works without the sin of doubt."
The smile warms, "Once you have done this, seek me out. I would most enjoy sharing a moment of eternity with you, side by side at the forge. Our Works would honor Draig Talamh, of this I am certain."
Signy regards Silhouette with a sober gaze. "My father keeps his own counsel. I may find that getting those answers from him no more likely than getting answers from my mother."
"No matter his reply - be it silence or wisdom - you shall have an answer, Signy," Silhouette says plainly. "Its relevance is for you to discern. And I shall be your confidant, if you so desire."
She stands, back arching like a night-roused pantheress. "I fear I have tarried and have duties to attend to. But I shall find you again. Soon." The last words come out almost like a purr.
Signy offers a noncommittal shrug at the first half of Silhouette's assesment, but a more unreserved smile at her offer. "We'll see," is all she offers verbally.
She offers her a smile. "I shouldn't keep you further, and I've got enough here to play with and try to further shake the rust off," she notes, several bars of iron now in her arms. "It was nice to meet another craftsman, though."
"Indeed," Silhouette smiles and then departs.
When they return to Castle Xanadu, Fiona pens a note to the King, requesting his particular expertise and the use of the Jewel in a family matter. A few minutes later, the page returns with word that the King will see them immediately in the Throne Room.
Fiona helps Ossian gather Jasmine up and leads them to the room, which has a balcony that overlooks the waterfall. To Ossian's eyes, the room has been designed with a surprising artistic harmony, down to small details. It's light and spacious, and its view of the harbor and waterfall is one of the best in the castle.
Random is sitting at a table below the dias, talking to his secretary. "Thanks, Gilt, just take care of it and we'll fix things later." Gilt bows and leaves.
Random holds up the note and looks across the three of them. "You need the royal touch, Fi? Does someone have scrofula?"
Ossian smiles "This is Jasmine. Aunt Fiona has found out that she is part of the family. But I am not responsible, although I thought I was."
"That can always be something of a mixed revelation." Random reaches into his shirt and pulls out a large ruby on a chain.
He comes over and kneels by Jasmine. His voice is low, soft, and reassuring. "Hello, Jasmine. My sister thinks we're related. I'm going to look through this stone and pretend that it has something to do with how I'm checking, but it doesn't really, not directly. And I'm not fooling anyone, so I'm not sure why I'm doing this. Maybe I just like twirling rubies in front of little girls."
He stops and smiles. "Well, I'm your uncle. Probably. There's an off chance I'm your brother, or even that you're my uncle, but I don't think that's very likely. You're not very avuncular, which means 'like an uncle'. Welcome to the family."
Jasmine hides behind Ossian's leg. She probably understand that the adults are saying things that will have implications for her. She does not understand how, though. Ossian kneels too, and gives her a light hug.
Random, still kneeling, raises an eyebrow and looks at the adults. "I'd say we don't usually have foundlings in the family, but we didn't used to have children. Any ideas?"
Fiona says, "She was conceived during Gerard's Regency. We know her mother. We know that Ossian and Lucas are not her father. The candidate pool for paternity is, I understand, rather limited." She turns to Ossian for further elaboration.
Ossian nods. "It leaves Jerod, Martin, Conner, Vere and well... Gerard. And Garrett, although that is unlikely?" Ossian turns to his uncle and aunt "Congratulations. One of you might be a grandparent."
"How do we proceed? Unless you mind, Jasmine stays under my protection."
"I want my mom." Jasmine says.
Random nods, not looking at Jasmine. "I want her mother, too. Is she available?"
Fiona gestures and a guard appears, almost as if by magic.
Ossian nods, and tells Jasmine "She will come here."
Random stands. He turns to the guard. "Please tell Gilt that I'd like to see Jasmine's mother," he pauses, searching for the name.
"Darling," offers Fiona.
Random smiles at his sister. "Is now really the time for that, Dearest?" Beat. "Ooooh!, you mean her name is Darling. Of course." He turns back to the guard. "Please tell Gilt that I'd like to see Jasmine's mother Darling at Gilt's earliest convenience."
The guard nods and departs, apparently used to Random's non-sequiturs.
Random says. "If asking her and the likely candidates fail, we ask Gilt's dad and the half-hand. One of them will have been spying on her."
Ossian frowns. "What if she is your sister?"
"Then she's older than you said, which brings Eric into the option list, as well as anyone who even visited Amber during the Ericocractic period. Would Corwin have slept with her mother?" Random holds up his hand, forestalling any answers to that question.
"But in that case, the same as any dead relative, she becomes an official ward of the crown. Technically, that's the status of all of your female relatives who don't have a male head of household to stand for them, but I'm more progressive than the law. It keeps my sisters from strangling me.
"It goes like this. If we can't find her father or if we determine that he's dead, you could, if you wanted, adopt her. If we find the father, then he's the father, and we start having a different discussion altogether."
Random looks from Ossian to Fiona. "What do you want to do with the mother?"
"That is Ossian's concern," Fiona says.
Ossian frowns. "We'll see. I'll set her up in the city. I think that will satisfy her for the time being, unless she is your sister. I meant Darling. Not Jasmine."
Random nods. "We'll know when she gets here. She could be sister, niece, daughter--doubt that, but maybe." He shrugs. "What's the mother like? The last thing we need is another psycho mother running around the place. We're full up on those." He pauses. "When do you think you'll bring her into Xanadu life? It's not like she's really ever going to be a townie."
This is a part of the discussion in which Fiona has no interest. It's odd to see her busying herself with a child, but then again, at some point she mothered two of her own.
"I guess that most parents are a bit psycho when it comes to their kids. She's not among the worst, I think. But then I am known to make mistakes.
"I am building her a house in town. I did not want to separate the child from her mother."
Random nods. "Your call. If you need an appointment for her in the palace, tell Gilt."
After a time, Darling is escorted in by Gilt Winter. Gilt bows to the King, and Darling curtseys. Jasmine runs to Darling and wraps her arms around her legs.
Random looks briefly at Ossian and shakes his head, minutely. Darling probably doesn't even notice.
"Ah, Darling. My nephew has told me so much about you, I just had to meet you for myself. Fiona, I think that Ossian needs some time to discuss certain matters with Darling, don't you? We should allow them to retire to a side chamber."
Ossian holds out his arm to Darling in a truly gentlemanly fashion. When they reach the side chamber he says: "We had a truly insight-giving little trip. Fiona is very resourceful, and made a small necessary investigation. The good news is that Lucas is not Jasmine's father. The bad news is I am not either. " Ossian trails off, waiting for Darling to respond.
Darling's shock is, as far as Ossian can tell, genuine. She flushes slightly and Ossian can feel the slight trembling in her arm.
"That's ... I don't know what to say. What do you plan to do now?"
Ossian is very calm, but not in a cold manner "Nothing rash. But the King, and I, for that matter, would like to know who the father is. We know he is royal.
"As for my involvment, I will do all I can to protect Jasmine."
Darling does not ask _what about me?_ but the question is in her eyes. It answers itself after a moment, and she bows her head. When she looks back up at Ossian, her expression has hardened. "You know it's been a long time. But, if I had to guess, once in those days long ago, I did dally with Reid. He was more a friend than a lover. It will be a terrible irony if he's the father of my child."
Again, Ossian feels that Darling is telling the truth as best she knows it. In theory, at least, there is a limited list of other candidates.
Ossian chuckles a little. "Reid.
"We do not know his whereabouts, but I will try to find him." Ossian gets more somber: "If there is any other possibility we need to know. You will not win anything by not letting us know. As for the morality of having several lovers, none of us is any better."
"If it is not Reid, I don't know how it can be one of your kinsmen. But I suppose you do find new kinsmen regularly now," Darling says, having recovered enough of her bearings to make a small jest. "I swear to you that I haven't lain with the stablehand who proved to be the King's son. Nor did the King's other son, nor Prince Jerod, nor the Reg--Prince Gerard's son Vere, nor Conner the diplomat."
Ossian chuckles again. "Good, good.
"Unless you or the King mind, I will act as Jasmine's guardian, until we can get hold of Reid. After that we'll see. And we'll set you up in the house. Jasmine will need her mother.
Darling shakes her head in the negative. "No, no, that will suit perfectly." Ossian feels certain she's trying to figure out how to turn this situation to her best advantage, but after the hard time they all had in the Regency, it's not a terrible surprise.
And there are a lot of options in Xanadu. Good things happen here.
"Do you hear that?" Darling says to Jasmine, picking her up and letting the girl put her arms around her neck. "You and I will live together in the city and Ossian will be your papa."
Jasmine's smile looks less like a beam of pleasure and more like relief. "I'd like that, Mama."
Ossian winces a little. "Let's go talk with the king," he says, offering his arm again.
Darling takes it, and takes Jasmine's hand so she can toddle along with them, as Ossian escorts them over to where the King and Fiona are speaking quietly. They break off from whatever they were discussing, and Random gives Ossian an inquiring look.
"Reid" Ossian says. "We have to find him, of course."
"In the meantime, I aspire to act as Jasmine's guardian."
Random nods. "The law, which is to say me, gives the King, which is to say me, wide latitude in such matters. I grant you temporary-guardianship-revokable-at-will on one condition, which is that you make an effort to find Reid."
Ossian bows his head "I will do that. I hope I can wait until I've tried to finished my project in your mountain up there."
Random nods. "I hope you can wait, too. That one is time-critical, the other is just important."
Fiona looks at Random. "May I suggest, your majesty, that she be educated as a child of our father was educated?"
Random looks at Fiona, then at Jasmine. "Except for the homicidal brothers part, sounds like a good idea."
"Who will be her teacher?" Ossian asks.
Random looks over at Jasmine and Darling. "All of my teachers are dead or insane or left under a cloud, or in a huff, or in a minute and a huff, so we'll need new ones. As her guardian, you'll need to find some. I'm pretty sure it was a 'find the best in shadow and drag them back here' kind of thing."
Ossian nods.
"You might want to check with the other parents. Paige probably has a few, and Folly will need some a few years after you do. She may end up serving as an audition for my first grandson's teachers."
Random frowns. "If I could possibly stand Florimel being in Xanadu, I'd entice her back. She's got her grandkids, too."
Fiona looks at the girl. "I am not convinced that a programme of education approved by Lucas would be ideal for the child."
Random shrugs.
Ossian agrees with his great-aunt. "Thanks for the advice. I will try to get more of that."
Random shrugs again. "Wherever you get it, it's worth what you pay for it." He pauses. "Unless it's from Julian, in which case we all pay for it. Nevermind, bad example. Let me know if you need anything else. I expect she should be around court enough to be comfortable being around court. That advice is worth twice what you paid for it, by the way."
He holds out his arm to Fiona. "Coming?" he asks. She takes his arm.
Ossian will see that Jasmine and Darling gets home safely, and then go check on his big Trump project.
Then he will try to reach Reid by Trump. Ossian will try really hard, probably enough to give himself a bad migraine.
(I suspect that will not work. The next step will be searching out some people in Xanadu. For advise on both getting hold on Reid and teachers for Jasmine.)
Ossian spends several hours trying to contact Reid. He thinks he might have gotten something at the end, but then his strength fails him and he spends some time recovering from a splitting headache. After he recovers, he can speak to various people about teachers.
Last modified: 8 January 2011