When Hannah was a girl, she had been told the stories of a King of a distant land, one of the spirits of the eastern people who claimed they didn't have ancestor-spirits, who knew a spirit who lived in a lake. The King walked into the lake where the Lake Spirit, whom the easterners called a Queen, lived, and she helped him with his quests. If Hannah's Blue Land was a shadow of Amber, or Xanadu or Paris, that legend was a shadow of Rebma, and the Queen of that place a shadow of women like Llewella.
Hannah's arrival at the castle is noted by the guards and strange merman creatures with facial tattoos and tails longer than Hannah is tall. She is met and greeted and, once her credentials from Corwin and Random (moreso Corwin, Hannah thinks) are presented, welcomed as a kinswoman to the Queen. In due time she will be permitted to see the regent, the Princess Llewella, her aunt. Many of the warriors are men, but the places of honor seem to go to women.
Everything is strange here: her dress and her hair float in the water, but Hannah can breathe it as though it were air. The women here dress in jewels and some little clothes. The water is warm enough that they hardly need more. Hannah can tell she'll need some help figuring out how to eat. This is, she realizes, where Celina and Jerod and Martin all grew up. Amber must have been bizarre to them.
Servants offer Hannah a change of clothes, after the Rebman fashion, and help her bathe and ready herself for an audience with the Regent. One of the mermen--Tritons, after the local fashion--escorts her to the audience room, where Llewella sits on a small throne. She is dressed after the local fashion: a narrow skirt, or perhaps trousers, of some light fabric, and a bodice of pearls and jewels. Her hair and skin are green, but she seems neither moist nor sad to Hannah.
"Welcome to Rebma, niece," Llewella says. "What brings you to our fair city?"
"Duty. Guilt. Love," Hannah smiles with a little shrug. "Truth be told, I suspect my tribal cousins aided Huon in the battle here. I have come to see if I may find out who was lost, and if I may be able to help Rebma with the survivors. To get to spend time with my Aunt," she gestures, "and experience an underwater civilization would be a fortunate and educational consequence."
"A kinswoman who comes in peace, to turn her people away from Huon, is welcome in Rebma," Llewella says formally. There is a staff by the throne, and Llewella raises it and strikes the marble floor of the chamber with it. The sound is wrong somehow in the airy water of Rebma, in a way in which human voices are not to Hannah.
Then Llewella sets the staff aside and rises from the throne. "Now that we've taken care of the formalities, shall we go somewhere more comfortable, niece? I can't promise you what my daughter will do about your people, but if we provide her with an easy and favorable answer, she'll probably take it. Let us dine, and think on how we might best do that."
"Thank you," Hannah smiles, ineffectively trying to tuck a piece of hair back down behind her ear. She walks along beside Llewella. "Your home is facinating and beautiful. I'd had some descriptions but my imagination didn't begin to do it justice. Are things beginning to settle down after all the turmoil, or will it be some time yet, do you think?"
"Amber is still settling down from Dad's last disappearance, and that was more than ten years ago. The new equilibrium will take years to achieve." Llewella's tone is phlegmatic. "I'm helping to hold things stable where I can, but if the women of my family--this side--insist on playing games the way Corwin and Eric did, it'll be longer and harder."
As they walk down the hall, they are followed by a Triton, who drifts in their wake. He's far enough back that he doesn't seem to be eavesdropping, but Hannah can tell he'd be on her in a second if she moved to harm Llewella.
"Tell me of the shadow you come from. What is it like there?"
"Well, I would have to describe it as two places, though it is likely more than that and my ability to perceive them as different is simply limited. There is the Earth, which we call the Blue Earth, Mahkota. This is where the people and animals live in a form... tied to bodies. Then there is the animal realm, which some call the spirit realm, where we may do things our bodies limit us from on the earth. This may not be the best way to say it - the translation is hard."
Hannah looks around again, marking her way and taking it all in. "These beings, these Tritons, I think would live in our spirit realm and fair well, but not so much on our Earth. Earth perhaps was once the peaceful, fantastical place our legends speak of, but it wasn't anymore when I was a child. We were a tribal people who tried to take in a trading culture," she laughs, "a French culture, while still maintaining our old ways and traditions. The religions wrapped around each other in tribal eyes, but in French eyes and others, were antithetical. And so there was conflict and my tribe was the weaker party in it. It was a stuggle. There was dust and hunger and poison and lies, disease and death and, well, betrayal.
"But there were also sunrises I have never seen the like of anywhere, the way the forest smelled in spring, and the animal realm, a dangerous place where anything was possible. And there was magic, though it was outlawed, and large families full of wives and children, where one woman didn't have to struggle against a tide of chores and duties. And horses. We are a horse people. We love them - you had to give away your horses to get a wife..." Hannah smiles fondly, missing those old days. "Or run away together, of course.
"Women had places of honor, but didn't quite rule as they do here. Women where I came from were very busy trying to keep everyone fed and healthy. It took extraordinary women to land on the councils, but they did."
Llewella listens carefully to the tale, nodding in places to indicate her understanding and frowning slightly at the mention of Tritons in the spirit realm. "You say the trading culture your blue earth people met was French, like a shadow of Paris, I imagine? How did you find Corwin's Paris, then, and its master?"
Hannah considers a moment before she begins. "Corwin's type of manhood is not unknown to me, to say the least. He has been polite to me, and taken time to tell me tales - but it does take a certain kind of dance to manuever him to it. He meets resistance with harder resistance. That means there is a kind of woman he cannot communicate with, but I don't sense that is bothersome to him. Beyond that I find him hard to judge because of his age and how different our life experiences have been. I know what looks to me like dictation may really come from a protectiveness born of things he knows that I don't.
"I think I would enjoy Paris a great deal if I could spend more time there. There was a place like it back home, but I never got to go there. I read all about it, of course, but the frenchmen I knew were more woodsmen than city folk. My father's father was supposedly a french trader - a hunter who sold furs. We spoke a polygot of languages at home, French among them, and I learned the more formal version in finishing school. So, I haven't had enough time to get a good impression of the city, here.
"What do you think of Corwin's Paris? I understand in the scheme of things it is a young place, as is Rebma's connection to it."
"I find Corwin very much changed from the man he once was." Her eyes narrow slightly in thoughtful consideration. "They say the city is a reflection of its master, and what little I've seen makes that true. I haven't spent enough time in his Paris, outside the Louvre anyway, to--encompass--all of those changes. If there were time--" and Llewella smiles, ruefully, at the idea that an immortal might not have enough of that "--I should enjoy visiting more, and longer. I don't think women are quite so rigidly restricted as they were in some ways in Amber, and yet in other ways, they are moreso."
They pass through an archway into a chamber that has been prepared with reclining couches and a table full of various delicacies: fish dishes, roe wrapped in seaweed, and other things that Hannah cannot identify easily. Llewella demonstrates the way to recline properly, which would have been extremely difficult with the heavy skirts Hannah usually wears. Behind them, the Triton closes what appears to be a pocket door across the arch.
"Now I'll show you how we eat in Rebma, and we can discuss your kin, and your father's father the Frenchman of Paris."
Hannah listens and strives to master this new skill like the learned over-achiever she is.
"I wish I knew more about my father's father, but I do not know much more than what I told you. He didn't stay. My father was adopted by the chief of the Omaha. I expect you have some Ponca and Omaha both here - maybe even some Winnebago. And perhaps from more than one shadow. But clear enough my mother was in our spirit realm, and I hear she and Huon were allies. Perhaps he always knew of it," Hannah ends, unhappily.
"I did not know that last about my sister at the time, of course, but I'm not surprised." Llewella frowns slightly. "Ysabeau had a sense of grievance against our father. That she'd make common cause with another outcast makes sense."
Llewella demonstrates the art of eating a bit of fish wrapped in seaweed again. As she is about to speak, there is a scratch at the door after the Rebman fashion, and a Triton enters, followed by one of the human guards. "Your Highness, madam: the Coldstream Guard has sent a herald to announce that the Queen and the Princess Celina have returned to the city. They are consulting the wisdom of the dragonheart."
The Regent's response is a gracious inclination of the head that cannot quite disguise the pursing of her lips at some part of the news. "Tell Her Majesty that I and her kinswoman Hannah await her pleasure on her return to the castle."
The Triton does not speak, but nods, and the man says, "Yes, Your Highness."
Hannah waits until the Triton and gentleman withdraw before she lets her mouth quirk to the side with fascination. "You have a dragon heart?" Hannah does her best to eat in imitation of Llewella.
Llewella says, "I wouldn't call anything of the Tritons ours, exactly." She shows a nuance of the trick of eating that Hannah seems to have missed, one that Llewella apparently feels can't be learned without observation of it at a slow speed.
Hannah slows herself down with a little smile, as if she doesn't have a thousand curiosities or even the hundred more pressing questions bouncing around her head. She watches Llewella and decides that eating underwater is at least as much art as science, and it's perhaps the first key to comprehending Rebman culture. Once she's seen the entire process all the way through, she comments, "There really is no option for being a sloppy eater underwater. It'd be a disaster, wouldn't it?"
Then she tries again herself. She waits to hear Llewella's opinion before she asks another question.
"You end up with a dirty room and an empty stomach. It's the same as the surface world; the effects are just more noticeable here." Llewella demonstrates again. "In the surface world, if you hold something by one end, it almost always hangs down. Room currents are such that that's not always true here, and because of buoyancy, gravity doesn't have the only effect on whatever you're holding."
"Hm," Hannah nods, and tries again, relying more on her finishing school training, the teas with the ladies, and the scholarship dinners than the more comfortable days of stuffing hard food or a donated dinner into her mouth on horseback between homesteads. Delicacy is the game, it appears.
"So, the Tritons have a dragon heart? I'm afraid no one has explained the Triton's relationship to Rebma to me."
"The Tritons hold somewhat the same relationship to Rebma that the Moonriders and the Fir Bolg do to Amber: they attacked us, came close to destroying us, and were defeated. But unlike my father, my mother bound her enemies to serve her and rebuild what they had wrecked. Thus they are as you see them today."
Llewella takes another bit of seaweed-wrapped fish.
"The Dragon Heart is a priest of their kind. I don't pretend to understand their faith, although my daughter might. You have oracles who speak to your spirits; the Dragon Heart is like that, but different."
Hannah takes a moment to eat more while choosing which question to ask. She settles on, "Corwin gave me a lesson on Moonriders but I haven't heard of the Fir Bolg. Where do they fall in history?"
"Long before my time. I'm not sure anyone alive even remembers them any more--remembers them from personal experience. That was even before the Triton wars here in Rebma," Llewella explains. "I'd say I'd have the archivist recite the tale for you, but she's gone, and I don't know that any of the junior archivists know it."
"And why were there Triton wars? Territory?" Hannah wonders. She shifts into a more comfortable position and tries another bite. The straight-backed Victorian posture feels wrong with this aunt.
Llewella nods encouragingly. "Looks like you've learned the knack." She turns, and her long hair follows in a slow motion swirl through the water. "The other is history I know. The Tritons came to make war on my Mother and her people when they had not been settled here long. Father once told me that it was because Mother needed an enemy and so there was one, but I never understood what he meant by that." She bites her lip, a gesture that may be the Rebman equivalent of a shrug, and continues.
"They attacked without warning, coming from the kelp forests and completely overran several settlements. The City was only saved because we killed one of their chiefs by Magic, and they withdrew for a week. It was a brutal war, and the tide didn't turn until Cneve joined. He was the hero of the war, at least as Mother told the tale. Father didn't talk about him."
"You're talking about King Oberon? Were they rivals then, he and Cneve?" Hannah asks.
"Cneve was a disobedient grandchild, a disobedient son of a disobedient father. Or so I'm told. My experiences with Father probably color my understanding of the matter. Mother had different opinions," Llewella's smile turns a bit cynical and she seems about to say something else when a guard enters the room.
"Your Highness," he says, "Queen Khela and Princess Celina have arrived at the castle."
"Excellent," says Llewella. "If they will join us, of course they are welcome, but otherwise we will attend on Her Majesty when she wishes to see us." She gives a gesture of dismissal and the guard leaves, presumably to deliver the message.
"Now, Hannah, is there anything you would ask me before my daughter and her paramour join us? Be quick about it if you do."
"Ah, no, I'm content to wait rather than hurry my thoughts along, now that I've managed to slow them down. Thank you for the history lesson." Hannah smiles and eats another bite while she can.
The march back to the castle in uneventful. Along the way, sometime after leaving what the unkind call "Downertown", the people start to wave and the troops start to be more at ease. The Queen has the Captain distribute some small coins to the poor as she passes.
Upon arrival at the palace, a young man who Celina has never seen there before approaches them as they reach the gates.
"Your Highness," he says, bowing. "Your mother has a visitor, a kinswoman named Hannah." His accent indicates he's from the seaward, as do his formal court manners, which are rusty and parochial.
Khela nods. "Announce us." The functionary departs.
She turns to Celina. "What do you know of her?"
Celina responds with a pleasant smile. "Hannah is new to the Family from outland shadows. She is taking care of Gerard and working on his injured legs. I think she is wise and has special eyes for suffering." Celina looks at Khela. "She's mature, having lived through her family being oppressed in the place she grew up. She will be able to see from a leader's vantage, but she balances head and heart. I do not know that she has a sponsor in the family, but I think she gets on well with the King."
Khela doesn't ask "which King?", but only because she stops herself from doing so.
"She announces herself much more politely than the last family member to come to visit Rebma." Khela lets a servant take her cloak and turns to Celina. "Let us meet our cousin."
After a few minutes, a member of the guard announces Queen Khela and Princess Celina, and the two women come into the room [where Hannah and Llewella are dining].
To Celina's eyes, her aunt and her cousin are having a private meal en famille, perhaps a working one, given the closeness of the couches and the simplicity of the meal. Or perhaps this is a matter of courtesy toward a surface dweller.
Khela is a dark woman with green skin and hair; she must bear a distinct resemblance to her father because she looks nothing like her mother, other than something of her carriage and the Rebman style of dress she affects. She has markings on her face that are very different from the tribal markings Hannah is used to; there is nothing obvious to tell her what they mean.
Llewella rises from her couch to greet her daughter. "Welcome home. I rejoice in your safe return." It's courtly formula of some sort, familiar to Celina and not so to Hannah. "Have you met Hannah? She is one of our kinswomen on our father's side. Hannah, this is Khela, the Queen, and Celina, both of whom are your cousins."
Celina restrains her natural enthusiasm at seeing Hannah again and lets Khela set a tone. Celina wears a large smile, amber earrings and bead-drape of complex brass and amber over a very brief tanga of some brassy pebbled fish skin. The drape and tanga shorts are both translucent.
Hannah has risen with Llewella, and bows to Khela, seeming to find this simpler in Rebman attire than a curtsey. Her wardrobe was clearly assisted by someone with an eye toward modesty, but leaves bare arms that are used to moving patients and controlling horses. Hannah's movements manage to be graceful, but it is a studied grace.
Hannah's skin is pale both among her own people and in Rebma. She hasn't quite mastered dealing with her dark hair underwater, as it comes forward around her when she rises, and leaves her trying to tuck it back again. "It is an honor to meet the Queen of Rebma, and a cousin," she adds with a smile.
"It is a pleasure to be able to openly meet my cousins, at last," replies the Queen. Llewella looks at her daughter, who ignores her for the moment. "I understand that you are but recently revealed to to us. You are welcome to Rebma."
[Hannah] passes that along with a warm glance for Celina. "I hope Lady Celina will remember me from our brief meeting in Xanadu."
When Khela has her moment, Celina greets Llewella. "My honored aunt, I greet you again with joy that buries the sorrow of our long parting."
The Seaward lass takes the liberty of stepping closer to Hannah then. She seems less bundled with doubt and cares and layers than when last they spoke at Xanadu. "Oh Hannah, it is so good to see you." She offers her arms up for embrace.
Llewella smiles at her sister's daughter. "Celina, welcome back to these halls, You must tell us of your adventures above the waves."
Khela looks up. "That may have to wait for a family meal, Mother. Is there any more news?"
The Princess shakes her head, her hair flowing around her in the water. "None beyond what I sent via the Captain. Oh, one thing. Hannah is of the shell of some of the foreign fighters, and may be able to help us dispose of them."
Khela turns toward Hannah. "Oh?" she asks.
Hannah nods. "I found on a journey back home that many of my own tribal cousins, and seemingly cousin-cousins from neighboring shadows had fallen in with Huon. I had a position of honor and authority among my tribe, so I believe I can get them to listen to me."
Celina looks relieved. The thought that Huon attracts resources by all sorts of family connections seems odd. She tucks that away for later. "Making sure Huon cannot stir them later is a good idea."
The Queen nods. "Using them to entrap and destroy Huon may be better penance. Would he go back to them?"
Llewella considers. "Perhaps, but not if he thought they had been compromised. It depends on why he went to them in the first place."
Khela looks at Hannah. "Can you discover that for us?"
An interesting question considering how busy Hannah was the last time Celina saw her. Celina gives Hannah her attention.
Hannah narrows her eyes with a little smile. "No, I don't think I could, unless he boldly lied to them. I doubt he did. I suspect he boldly told them truths and made himself their brother. Most of them will die before they betray a brother to you. I doubt even Huon is so stupid as to trust those who'd be left. I would be happy to ask them for you, your majesty, but I'd advise you'd be better served to put them to a more practical use."
"He seemed a man too large in his own eyes to lie to his soldiers," Celina muses. "I got the impression he did not like connivers. But then, from what you say, that would make him actually respect your people the more."
Khela listens to her kinswomen, her full attention on each in turn. "Hmm. We do not want to turn them against us. I'd be perfectly happy with 'return to your home and never take up arms against Rebma or her allies again, on pain of death.' How do your people normally end wars, Hannah?"
Hannah shakes her head. "In theory, there are a few ways, but historically, every war seemed to create a new tradition. If I could take them home, or someplace like it for some of them, there might not be much to go back to. It probably wasn't hard to convince most of them to leave it."
She sighs and looks at the Rebman women. "Some of them might like to stay, and perhaps work off their penance. Doubtless there is some damage they were part of those could rebuild? I could try to take back those who will take your pledge, but they would have to understand they might not all be headed back exactly where they came from. One hopes they understand how shadow works after their adventures," she finishes dryly.
"Or King Random might accept some into Xanadu, once I stuck them somewhere useful." Hannah's mouth twitches into another small smile. "And then there's King Corwin. Most of my tribesmen will have enough of his sort of French to get by in Paris as well." Hannah can't stop her eyes from slipping to Celina. "Seems a diverse enough place."
Celina has seen enough of Paris at this point to realize it is quite diverse, as long as you are not green and the King's daughter by a foreign cutthroat. "Agreed. However, I think that Random taking them in would seem like a favor to him, for he needs hard workers and diversity, while my Father taking them in would seem like a favor to you, Hannah." She doesn't know where the knife edge is between those two, but she's fairly certain her father would make it look like a favor and that might bind Hannah more than she wants to in this Family. And she doesn't bother to mention that Hannah helping move them is already a mutual favor between Hannah and Rebma, since they both get something they want.
"I'm not sure the history of Rebma allowing foreign attackers to work off their trespass demonstrates acceptance into the diversity here." Celina looks at Llewella, Khela and then back to Hannah. "Of course, it might be nice to change that for the future."
"Not now," says Khela. "We just finished up with that, and it didn't go well." She looks at Hannah. "If your people have no home we can take them to, we can arrange something in the Seaward, but our condition will apply. No arms against Rebma."
Khela looks unhappy. "It's not much of a pledge, really, and there's not much for them to accept. It's mostly a one-time offer of mercy that they can fail to take advantage of at their peril. And since we have no place for your prisoners, those who do not accept help in reaching either their home or an acceptable alternative will be exiled. It is my hope, cousin, that you can convince them to cooperate with us. We are strong enough to show mercy and kindness, but may not always be in a position of such strength."
"I am certain I can convince them to pledge and move on. Those that won't are grown men who I will make fully aware of the consequences." She isn't impressed with their judgement so far and doesn't bother keeping that annoyance off her face. "I brought medical supplies but I don't think they'll all work here very well. Is there a healer I can work with to help prepare them for their journies?"
Celina nods once. Khela is going to like Hannah's decisive and practical manner. "The war is fresh enough in the minds of the Seaward that foreign warriors won't get bad treatment out of hand. There were plenty of mercenaries and volunteers from stranger climes when everything was falling down around our ears out there. It was easy to fight alongside purple men and striped women when the monsters from the Black Trench were ravaging." She wants Hannah to understand the terms are not harsh, if not very generous.
Llewella nods at Hannah's question. "A magical healer or a non-magical one? Magic is unreliable this close to the pattern, of course." Llewella looks at her daughter, who shakes her head minutely.
Khela looks at the throne room, seeing who might be around. The court and the courtiers are all absent, although guards and attendants hover near the doors. "Hannah, do you want to visit your kinfolk right away, or will you join us at court after we dine?"
"Truthfully, I'd like to see them. I traveled back across Shadow to hunt out the truth in a false vision - and in the end, that led me back here to them. And I always prefer to try natural healing before magical. Some people don't respond to magic." Hannah shrugs. "Although I would love to join you at court another time."
Celina adds, "Consider it an invitation for another time then." She folds her arms and smiles. "How goes the matter of Gerard's health?"
Khela turns towards Hannah. "You are welcome at our court, and we would welcome you as a kinswoman at any time. We will be interested to hear what you learn of your people." She smiles, and turns to Celina. "Coz, do you wish to accompany Hannah?"
"Not if I miss your first court," Celina smiles. "Otherwise, yes. If it helps Hannah to have a set of Rebman eyes to witness the parlay, I'm very willing. If she needs time alone with them first, that is her call."
"I'm more likely to convince them I am who I am alone. And I do mean alone. We can't speak of certain tribal secrets among outsiders." Hannah smiles. "And I'm not sure I'd want anyone else to witness my bullying tactics. Is there a guard who can lead me to them? Are they all together?"
"Very well. Nireus will guide you. Celina, I need to refresh myself. Would you go ahead with Mother and have them prepare for me to arrive is, say, half a glass' time?"
Celina grins and clasps Hannahs hands before she departs. "Travel safe, cousin."
Celina nods to Khela and also takes a moment to give her a hug. There may not be such a chance for a while.
Khela takes the opportunity to hug Celina back, for the same reason.
Once everyone begins to move in different directions, Celina steps close to Llewella and walks from the room with her.
Llewella lets Celina set the pace. "I suspect that had I gone to Paris with her, you would have sat as regent here in my daughter's stead. You are high in her confidence."
"It is very kind of you to say so. We have our little animated discussions," Celina answers. "While you are very high in the confidence of many people directly supportive of Rebma." Celina walks and makes eye contact with Llewella. Previous discussions with her Aunt have been very different, so many pieces missing and so many years to try and examine, but now it seems to Celina that she understands what the gulf of centuries between Llewella and herself might possibly mean. "It is an admirable skill to stand so balanced between diverse forces and personalities. I'd like to learn such a skill if you have things you are willing to share. Especially because I am still trying to keep Khela alive and Rebma whole."
Llewella nods.
Celina doesn't really expect an answer to that bit. So she moves on, "Is the Pattern Room still locked? Have you ever handled the Sapphire?"
"Yes, and yes. At the time, I thought it just a jewel, like the throne, perhaps made from it. Now, I wonder. Mother used to call it the key to all. What if she were being literal?"
Celina feels a shock on two different levels at once. Certain that handling the jewel would leave some impression on her aunt as it has on her. Followed quickly by the notion that Llewella is remembering handling it as a girl before she walked the Pattern.
The second shock is more dear and personal, the tiny window connection to Moins, her real grandmother, even by so remote a thing as a casual anecdote. For a flicker of a moment, everything seems more solid and possible. "I think she was. It is very likely the key to what Rebma is, if not the cipher to All." Celina hesitates pondering. It is obvious that Llewella hasn't had much opportunity with the jewel...chasing questions to the jewel now is likely a waste of limited time.
And again her thoughts churn through the waters of Rebma's survival and resilience without her rightful queen. Celina treads three steps in silence. She flexes her hand, noticing that the ache and bite of the Sapphire seems much less. For being closer to the Pattern? "The Pattern and the Jewel are connected. It is very likely that if I walk the Pattern, I can move to the Jewel and recover it." She looks at Llewella. "Foolish as that sounds, I feel that Rebma must recover the Jewel. It will be critical."
Llewella stops in a bit of hallway that happens to be deserted. She leans in towards Celina and looks at her intently. "Yes. And when you say 'recover the Jewel', we need to take it from your mother. Can you do that?"
"I know I can," Celina responds with crisp economy. "And Mother knows I can. So the question becomes, who has she collected or bargained with to slow me down?" Celina smiles. "Any particular sorceress or monstress that she might swim to, my aunt? She cannot move by Pattern so her choices are limited to paths shown over time. You would be the one to mark Rebma paths through shadow."
"My sister is cunning, and will have long-planned escape options. Huon has disrupted anything she had in Gateway, Paris and Xanadu are too new, the sons of the dragon will not follow her, and you are a rip tide in her plans.
"My first guess would be Amber. There are enough who see harm to themselves in the new King's plans to follow a royal they know to a mirror of the city they prefer. Harga'rel, perhaps.
Llewella pauses. "So will you do it? The Queen needs reliable friends who can act independently, else she will end up with her own Bend and Montage, except they will control her instead of the other way around."
Celina sparks with rebellion when Llewella states Khela could become a creature of her intelligence agents. She almost launches into rebuttal, just based on that swell of emotion. Then she realizes she doesn't want to defend an untested Queen, as it will seem defense is required.
In holding herself still a moment, Celina considers again Llewella's position, balanced and observing all the elements for so long. Is it likely Llewella's love is less than Celina's? No. Not likely at all. Llewella testing her again? Yes.
"I am for queen and country," Celina responds with a lot less heat than she feels. "I dread leaving Khela here if the Pattern room is not open and the show of my support is not made. So yes, I will do it. Just as soon as the underkelp is cleared out and First Court is done."
She thinks about Moire in Amber. It doesn't seem to make sense...but it is a place that Moire would know better than anything but Rebma. Many are leaving Amber, some still arriving and trade still happening, so Moire would have chance to buy information and be just out of sight, near enough to even hear things about Rebma if she could not actually contact families in the city beholden to the old throne. Celina frowns.
She thinks about the last family meeting. Marius arrived from Amber. Caine was in charge there. She looks at Llewella. "How do you suggest I work with Caine regards finding Moire? Beyond an official visit so he knows Rebma is in the City again? Do we have an envoy there you trust?"
"No. But we do have people there. The obvious reason for your presence will be that we're re-establishing control, and that includes some talks with citizens like the Harga'rels. Take whoever you need, and be careful, but be quick. We should go in. Khela will not want to wait on us."
Llewella moves forward, and a functionary pulls back a curtain. It's similar to Moire's court, but different. There are tritons present, for one thing.
All eyes are on Llewella, and Celina can almost feel her smile as she walks, self-assured, into the crowd, greeting people as she approaches the throne.
Celina moves with Llewella as if they had rehearsed all this. She does not share all the passions moving in her personal currents through her walk. The walk is performance. Perhaps Khela can see how smoothly she moves and measure how much her will hides the brusque, edgy qualities of her natural motion today. Celina wants to shake this Court and awaken them suddenly to a new day.
It is not diplomacy that smooths her walk. It is not patience, but rather it is the sense that she will walk through the cloud of sharks gliding as if she is one of them, scenting as they do, powerful as they are, here to do the work of the realm as they can.
If they believe that glide and poise, or if they believe she is still but angelfish, Celina still wins. If they look at the shadow she casts, it is not shark or angelfish, it is the gloom of change that this killer-whale casts upon the sea bed.
Celina is forefront of the storm that has just begun to change Rebma.
She knows there will be blood. Huon was just the squall.
Celina stays paired to Llewella, even if her aunt stops to speak with a family that feels they have won that privilege. She does not squid-line to the throne as if she needs Khela's comfort. If she sees Orseas, her eyes brighten with some joy, but she does not sign to him or change her demeanor. She moves to her place near the throne as Llewella sets the tone.
Just before she turns to face the entire Court, she steps to that spot she earned from the previous Queen---Lady of the Royal Bedchamber. Now she smiles for everyone.
It's much like a play, or a dance, at first. Many of the participants are there to be there--to witness, to evaluate, to find and secure advantage or to defend advantages previously earned or taken. Everyone watches everyone. Everyone evaluates. Everyone sparkles, to the best of their ability.
Khela sweeps in, followed by a secretary and a footman, and takes the throne. All the attention turns to her. As she passes Celina her hand reaches out and a finger traces across the girl's arm. Affection? If so, affection on display.
Celina does not change her smile, however, her eyes half-lid a bit, dimming down the spark and glow that is natural response to such a public display.
Khela wears the traditional Rebman court wear. It might even be a pair of Celina's mother's shorts, slightly recut. She looks as if she has spent hours preparing, and not six minutes. It's a tribute to her staff's skills.
She lets the room settle, which it does quickly. "My friends and subjects, my supporters and family, we are returned from Paris successfully. In addition to meeting with my Kingly and Princely relatives, I have returned our Celina, at least for the moment. Her return I prize above all other things. I expect that others of my kinfolk will visit as well, on personal or official business as they see fit." Khela smiles at Celina.
Celina nods back, acknowledging that Family will certainly visit, and soon. She does not say a word. Her smile morphs to something more Bleysian and since she is a sudden focus, the smile is left to interpretation.
If Celina expected to be a secondary focus for this evening's court and the informal discussions that would happen thereafter, Khela has changed those plans. Many an eye turns to the seaward lass.
"On less personal matters, I bring news of our success in negotiations. We have agreed to expand our contacts and trade with my brother monarchs above the waves, and I am inclined to let those who can succeed be successful. Charters for the Paris trade will be made available to the Shells, via the exchequer."
Khela, reading the crowd, waits while the twin impulses to power and riches course through the court, deftly putting the courtiers in line with her desires.
The business of the court continues-- a daughter confirmed in her late mother's titles, an oath taken from an elderly matron who had travelled from the outer seaward, a letter on doings in Gateway, a report on the prisoners and their state. Khela takes the latter, but interrupts the functionary's overly long verbal report. The girl leaves, flustered.
The court is long, but workwomanlike. Khela eventually stands. "Court is at an end. I will, in the ancient practice long un-honored, stay for entertainment." She turns to the secretary, a girl from the Office of the Archivist. "Send in the entertainers."
Unpracticed and unhonored, Celina decides to set the custom now. Moire often held informal council after Court and had chairs placed for this, but this is still performance. Celina decides to sit the steps to the throne to take her Entertainments. She gives Khela an inviting look.
Khela smiles and steps over. She kneels down behind Celina, her hands on her cousin's shoulders. The queen and Celina can both see the acrobatics this way.
"This is the time for the boldest to be able to approach the queen, or whoever else they may be bold enough to approach at such a public spectacle. You have signaled yourself boldest, which pleases me. We can only steal a few moments thusly, and then will need to be available for those who would seek us out. What did you think of the court?"
"I thought it went well enough," Celina responds. "Of particular note, the matron who traveled this far and made oath and the notes on Gateway arriving on the heels of war. The timing of both seemed entirely propitious. You did very well. My sense was that the Court was on its best behaviour."
Khela nods. "You missed my first one, which was tense. Everyone is learning how to be audacious at court again. And it's tough because people aren't sure who their allies are. This is court before it has decided who the factions are. You should mingle. Tell Lady M'reisi that you were happy to see her take her oath. She will be pleased."
Khela kneads Celina's shoulders, as if her hands don't mean the dismissal her mouth just issued.
Celina notes the queen's will and waits until her movement from throne into the crowd is not a slight at the quality of the trio of entertainers working a complex pattern of bolos back and forth between them.
She moves slowly, showing her balance and special grace to best advantage. Celina stops and chats with Factors of families she recognizes from previous Courts. Finally she times her movement to pick up two drinks from a page and brings refreshment to Lady M'reisi. "You came far for this event and I am impressed with your oath."
Celina offers to share a toast. "To the queen."
She smiles. It's a cold smile, but she does not seem hostile to Celina. "I thank you, Lady Celina. I was quite disappointed to miss the coronation, but it all happened so quickly. Still, I have done my duty." The smile morphs slowly into a frown. "I'm pleased to see that the Queen is interested in our affairs. If there is a problem with the Gateway trade, the seaward will suffer. Again."
Celina thinks about the Gateway report that the Court heard. "Would suffering be true if some families in the Seaward had rutters that did not require Gateway to be in path?"
She replies slowly, as if thinking through her answer. "Aye, My Lady, but would it suit Rebma or the Seaward? One of the advantages of Gateway, from Rebma's point of view, is that they are far away. If that circuit were to be shortened, would Rebman goods be as valuable to surfacers?
"It would suit Rebma if the Seaward helped to detail an outline of what sort of Land and People would do nicely in the event something Unfortunate happened to our friends in Gateway. Something further away? A magical place? Perhaps peopled by former adventurers of the Double Dozen Seas? How welcome if there were a rutter to such a place discovered in our extensive archives." Celina smiles warming to the subject. Already in her mind, mapping out how she will take on the task of finding that shadow and writing that rutter. Once other matters are attended she will have time to adventure. "If such a Land were offered the Trade that Gateway now enjoys....well, there would be much work in the early part, getting a better understanding of the new Land and its People...but then, the Seaward is never shy about working for profit and exploration." Celina indulges her wine and eyes the room to see who is watching her chat with Lady M'reisi.
Everyone is watching. And Llewella.
Lady M'reisi's slow seaward drawl is even more evident. "If it were in the crown's interest to know my opinions on how we could have profitable trade that benefited all with a new, more cooperative surface partner, I would certainly consider it my duty to assist," she says. "And with our new closeness with our surface partners, a new way to work with them might be just the thing." From her manner, this could all be her spur-of-the-moment thoughts on the matter. Or perhaps she travelled across many underseas just to have this conversation.
She leans in closely. "Merely suggesting it to the Gatwegians might in itself be enough to impress upon them the importance of not disrupting trade. A word to the wise, as they say." She pauses. "If they're wise anymore, of course."
"In my dreams of impressing Gatwegians," Celina was raised with that Seaward drawl, but there is no sign of it reflected since she went to finishing school, and no sign of it now though it would be an easy thing to take on, "I would them fiercely investigate in the face of no news, no suggestions, minimal diplomatic message from the honored trading partner they just tried to behead. They would discover, because it matters that they know, and also that they know we don't bother to tell them because they do not deserve our help, that they may cease to exist if they do not quickly find wisdom they may have on hand. Making war with Rebma does not require they are impressed with us. Making good after the war requires their very best survival thinking. But my dreams are not the future. Reality is, I'm pleased to have your help in sketching a future that ignores Gateway in favor of some place I actually care about."
Celina manner does not suggest she has joy in condemning a Vital place to fade into history. She earnestly seems more interested in M'reisi and possible new ventures.
M'reisi nods. "Well, clearly, the first thing our partner needs is wealth, in order to trade. That would be followed by a need we can fill, and a way for our goods to reach them and goods they make or trade for to reach us.
"It would help if some of the same trading partners above the waves beyond Gateway were reachable, because so many of us have existing trade routes.
"And for my shell, obviously, I would prefer a more northwest passage. That would suit Khrop and Narvhal, I believe? Both suffered so in the recent invasion."
Celina nods, beginning to sketch in turn what she knows of some fine trading partners to the northwest that are amiable and eager. Her manner is most practical and she seems to speak as if difficulties are interesting challenges that will be overcome. There is no doubt in her tone that old trading partners ...beyond Gateway... will be honored. She even discusses the kinds of wealth that might make amiable future partners, not shying away from discussing if Gateway's wealth might have predicated the switch away from Rebma as an ally. Her interest is animated and laced with some wry humor, but most of all she is accessible.
When Khela gives the nod....entertainments and Court will conclude.
At which point, Celina will whisper to M'reisi that she would appreciate any specifics about Narvhal's troubles be communicated to herself by way of the Court Archivist. Discreetly.
M'reisi bows. "Yes, Lady Celina." and departs.
Last modified: 4 March 2011
