Celina asks both Brennan and Conner to stand beside her as she contacts King Random. They both will have commentary on what has just happened that could be of benefit to questions the King may have.
With Llewella's borrowed Trumps, Celina makes the most direct use of time. She leads Brennan and Conner to a private gallery in the Royal precincts where the emerald glassite doors slide aside like five layered fans and the water does not enter the room beyond.
Not even from their clothes as they step in.
Celina sets the case down on a table and studies Random's smile in the Trump in her hand. She glances at Conner, then Brennan, then back to Random's face. Holding the card higher like a hand mirror, yet easy for Brennan and Conner to choose their stances, she wills the image to become the man. "Your Majesty. I have news."
Brennan takes up a position behind Celina, as he took up a position behind Conner: Off slightly to the side, one hand on her shoulder.
Conner flanks Celina on the opposite side with his hand on her shoulder. His trademark smile is in place but only just.
Random frowns. "Bad news, Celina? What is it?"
"Queen Khela died on the Pattern just an hour ago. Llewella knows. Soon I must inform the Court that I am taking the throne. Arrangements will be made for an eternal shrine after Family business is taken care of. You are invited to attend, of course, as you are able. If you could pass the word to Martin, Merlin and Folly, I would be grateful." And she just stops to compose herself again.
Random's face hardens and his eyes look momentarily old. Or it's a trick of the light. "Oh, crap. I'm sorry you had to get elevated by the bitch in the basement. Xanadu will send official condolences and support you, of course. If you need advisors or soldiers, you just have to ask. Is there anything you need now?"
Celina nods. "It is a generous offer that I appreciate. I could wish for even a century of your practical experience, King Random. May I borrow a cup of 'hard knocks'? You may ask Merlin to complete the Trump of me so that you and I can speak more easily. Please let Jerod know....", she swallows, "the situation." She stops herself from asking for Jerod to come back and advise the throne. That would be harsh and ill-timed. She briefly thinks about the Regent of Amber wondering whether it is more proper for Random to speak to Caine. No. That can wait.
Random nods at appropriate places.
Practical. Yes. "And it would be good if you tell me now of things that you and Khela agreed to when she conferred with you."
"My practical experience is a few months as King. If you want my impractical experience, I've got that in spades. As to agreements, in a nutshell, Khela and I agreed that Xanadu and Rebma and Amber would have good relations, that Khela did not actually need to go to war with Gateway, and that I was sending an emissary to work out the details of formal recognition of her government. I think Khela planned to use that to smooth over the fact that I wasn't going to give her Huon's head, so keep that in mind when you take over those negotiations."
Celina nods once while making herself a note about heads and uncles. "Rebma is interested in the Gateway Resolution. We will hold our ire from Gateway pending further news. Do you have an idea of who your Emissary might be?" Celina makes a quick judgment not to suggest a candidate.
Random nods. "I'm sending Sir Fletcher. I'll try to brief him on the state of things before he leaves, but I may miss him. As to Gateway, I find myself inclined to be severe, but it was one of their own who saved Marius and Raven."
Celina nods. Family. "Severe is fine with me as well. Everything would have come undone. Let the One of Their Own be a Tempering Justice perhaps very publicly, but magicians have long memory. Let the lesson be vivid, I say." She pauses and adds. "The Pattern seems stronger here. We hope to make some study of it soon. If Huon's weapon did any damage, something has renewed its power." She doesn't speak of how or who will investigate.
Conner's grip on Celina's shoulder tightens slightly as if to remind her that the One they speak of is Thalia. Out loud, he says nothing.
Random nods. "We'll see after we've investigated. That's Jerod's job. So, speaking of Huon, that's another emissary that's going to land in your lap. My deal with him is that he's going to surrender to you as long as he doesn't get executed and you and his agent can agree on terms. His agent is your cousin Silhouette, who we talked about at the meeting. My advice there is that at the least you should get an accounting of what he did and who helped him in Gateway."
"Oh, and did you recover the Rebman Jewel? It's important."
"If the Jewel is in Rebma, it is hidden. We do not have it yet but agree it is essential." Celina uses her response to think fast about Huon and the arrival of an.... agent. Nothing balances out the destruction of a Pattern and breaking of a city. Her face tightens and her eyes narrow. "Thank you. We shall have to consider terms that may bind a Prince."
Celina returns to the previous point. "Any worthy suggestions for locating the Jewel? Moire probably has it with her as ransom but since that is more obvious, I'm willing to spend time looking elsewhere. She is rarely obvious."
Random closes his eyes. "Hmm. I'm only coming up with bad ideas. However they're the best I've got. This is exactly the kind of problem that going to Tir-na Nog'th is helpful with." He opens them. "Given the hostility and danger of the place, it's explicitly closed to you, but I'd be willing to consider a plan for someone else to go there."
Celina raises an eyebrow in surprise.
He pouts. "Crap. I knew that was going to be a bad idea the minute I had it. Well, it's better than my second best bad idea."
Brennan gives Celina's shoulder a squeeze, reminding her that he's already been there. It's a light squeeze, though, a mental bookmark for a future conversation, not an interruption of the conversation.
Celina nods. "Then I think I have nothing more for now." She does not break eye contact with Random, but speaks in a very different tone opening the contact further in shifting her mind to paint Brennan and Conner brighter in her thoughts. "Conner and Brennan may have their own comment."
"Only this, King Random," Brennan says. "I heard Llewella say that Meg is in Rebma. If I were Martin, I'd want to know about all this and be contacted as soon as possible. But none of us have the means to do that."
Random's lips purse slightly. "I'm sure Martin knows where Meg is and he'll know the rest of the situation shortly. But you've reminded me, now would be a very good time to speed up plans to send Huon's army home, or at least elsewhere. Especially if they surrendered to Khela. They might not be adequately surrendered to Celina." He pauses for a second. "At least she isn't there with her mother."
Celina inclines her head slightly to Random. "Sir, do you have a Trump of yourself to spare for me?"
Random nods, then says "I don't, actually. I lost my Trumps in shadow, and I gave Ossian the last full deck. Unless you can make a trek out to Flying Rock, I'm afraid we'll have to communicate the old fashioned way." He looks slightly put out by this, but only slightly.
After the conversation with Random plays out, Brennan withdraws slightly from Conner and Celina and draws out his own Trump of Bleys.
After concentrating on it, if he receives the traditional question, he answers heavily, "Bleys, it's Brennan. With bad news."
"Bide," Bleys says. Brennan gets an impression of movement and shortly sees a well-lit Bleys, on a balcony of Castle Xanadu. "I can talk freely here. What news, nephew?"
"Bad," Brennan says again. "Khela is dead. The official line is that she died repairing the damage to the realm done by Huon. Privately..." he shakes his head. "She never made it off the Pattern. Mitigating news is that she declared Celina as Heir, and all Family members in Rebma-- including Llewella-- have lined up behind her. The chance of another round of civil war is not so large as it might be. This has all happened within the last watch, though. Only a matter of time before Moire and other interested parties find out."
"Damn. I'd hoped Benedict and Corwin were wrong. I thought she had style." He shakes his head. "As for Moire, if there are mirrors or mirrored surfaces anywhere near any of this, she may know already. If it does become a civil war, I can certainly line you up with an Army or two that I know of. Or you can appear weak to draw Moire out, if that's her daughter's strategy, of course."
He looks outward, his head framed by Xanadu's waterfalls. "What of Moire's other lines of descent?"
Brennan nods in heavy agreement. "I counted her as a friend," he says, and Bleys knows how rare friendship is among the Family.
"And, good question. All of this has happened within the watch, and I'm here with Conner and Celina breaking the news to various of Oberon's kin. Last I heard, Valeria was in Xanadu, which means she'll find out shortly. I'm uncertain where Rilsa and Loreena are, but they'll know shortly after Valeria does at the latest.
"That leaves Jerod on Rilsa's side, and Martin on Morganthe's side. Jerod may be in an unfortunate position with his sisters. I expect Martin to be unhappy, personally and politically." Brennan frowns a moment. "Let me amend what I said earlier-- all the Family members in Rebma that I've spoken to," he gives slight emphasis to the last few words, "have lined up behind Celina. Meg and Hannah are also here, and Llewella is informing them now."
Bleys smiles, tight lipped. "I wouldn't worry overmuch about Hannah, and I'd be surprised if Meg had the wherewithal to start a rebellion. In any case, both of them are associated with the defeated army of Huon, no? I'd think you'd be able scuttle any moves on their part with a few words in the right ears.
"Moire and her line are likely the immediate concern. Something of a political tightrope your cousin has ahead of her: keep the Tritons happy enough that the Ancien Régime can't see a way to get a foothold, but don't promote them so far that the people of Rebma turn on her. Should be a challenge. I hope for the sake of peace, she's up to it.
"Oh, and since Random is likely to send Amber forces against Gateway, it may push the Gatwegians in Celina's direction. She'll need to keep the Seaward armed and alert without either causing a rising amongst them or against them."
Bleys leans back. "At least it's a difficult city to burn."
At mention of Gateway, Brennan's expression hardens. "I regret that I will not be part of that force," he says.
"I agree that Moire and hers are the larger threat, though. If I'm right, Valeria will be minded in Xanadu, and Loreena is at large. Moire is the obvious heavy troublemaker waiting in the wings. But then there's Rilsa, of whom I know little. And it would be awkward to ask Jerod under the circumstances. As far as I know, she disappeared around the same time Moire did-- are there any credible rumors of either of them since the last Family Council?"
Bleys looks out at nothing. "Moire is back in the Ebbtide reaches amongst her staunchest supporters, or she's a fool. Rilsa is either with her or working on her support elsewhere. If you have no clues, there are always cards, or Rebman magics. You'll want to make sure Celina is protected. Your side falls apart without her. The difficulty of hereditary monarchs is the dependence on heirs."
Brennan nods-- Bleys isn't telling him anything he doesn't already know, but Bleys knows that, too. "Given the perception that Moire and Rilsa abandoned Rebma in the face of Huon's attack, they're not going to just walk back into Rebma as though nothing had happened. Violence is a necessary part of any plan to take the throne.
"I don't think they'll get terribly far with a purely military plan, but they may have surprises we don't know about. Not to mention, the path between Paris and Rebma is both leaky and disturbing. Have you walked any portion of the Faiella-Bionin, recently?" Brennan asks.
Bleys shrugs. "In Flora and Corwin's favorite shadow, Stephen was King of England and had defeated Maude, but a dozen Angevin kings ruled because Steven died without living heirs. Best to avoid such a fate." He smiles. "As to the Faiella-Bionin? I avoid the Queen's Gift; it never seems to suit my purposes. What of it?"
"It's on my mind for a number of reasons," Brennan says. "I do not share my generation's peculiar blindspot of thinking that only descendants of Oberon can move through Shadow-- I know of too many other ways that don't involve the Pattern, clumsy as they may be, and too many other classes of being that can manage it. That alone would be enough to have me thinking about the Road, when thinking about ways for Moire to cause grief.
"Several other things give me pause. First, when I followed the Eater from Shadow to Rebma, its path came out in the middle of the leg between Paris and Rebma. Conner and I walked part of the way on that road again, and saw things two and three: A mirror in a submerged chamber along that road, which was manifestly reflecting light that did not originate within it. And the particular thing it was illuminating was," Brennan hesitates slightly over the description, then goes with, "a statue, or something like it, which I believe depicted the Queen of Air and Darkness on a throne."
Brennan scowls at the memory. He's got more about the road, but those are enough for the main thrust of his thoughts. "That's evidence of a lot of traffic and activity on that stretch that does not have both Rebma and Paris as endpoints. That doesn't match what I picked up listening to Brand as a boy, but Brand never had a motive to keep me informed on the finer points."
Bleys holds up a finger. "Until very recently, no one who will admit to it or discuss it had ever seen the effects of changing the number and location of second order patterns. Brand wouldn't have necessarily known anything to teach or keep from you. However, in the same way that Random's pattern created a castle and attracted a city but hasn't finished growing it yet, the Queen's Gift may also be in the process of creating itself anew and those changes may make it an attractive point for all manner of things." Bleys smiles. "Dworkin would have explained it to us as the patterns moving into the right places based on the mathematical necessity of where they should be. I certainly would have understood such a comment differently now than I would have even a century ago." He nods. "It's worth watching, but it's a problem my theory says may just resolve by itself."
"Granted," Brennan says, referencing one of Bleys' earlier points. "But you're confirming my suspicion that even if this is a transient effect, it is not status quo ante. As such, it may bear heavily on Celina's and Rebma's future in the short term. And come to think of it, possibly on Tir-na Nog'th. Consider it watched."
Having gotten confirmation of several things, Brennan shifts the conversation: "No memorial plans have been set. I'll keep you informed." He knows enough about Family politics to not extend an invitation he may need to retract in the future.
Bleys nods. "Thank you." He lowers his voice. "As a final note, Father somewhat deliberately set us at odds with Llewella, for reasons that made sense to him at time, no doubt. Be aware that your father may be used against you, specifically to separate her supporters from Celina. Watch for it. It may not come to pass, but we have supporters there if something does come up."
"Thank you, the warning is timely. I'll pass it to Conner as well, although he may wish to speak with you himself before too long."
Brennan offers a smile that might just display even less humor than one of Caine's. "Celina walked as well, and nearly took advantage of its ability to move her through shadow. Imagine the mood of the court if Conner and I had gone back up alone."
Bleys shrugs. "I imagine it would depend, for the most part, on who you proposed to take the throne. Not unlike the current state of things, really, but with worse options." He frowns. "I'm not entirely sure, but I suspect that it would not be possible to be 'King of Rebma' in your own right. Not permanently, and the impermanence would be of the fatal variety."
Brennan shakes his head, once: Not interested in Rebma, doesn't want its throne, couldn't be bothered to try.
Brennan moves to break off the contact, then stops just a moment later. "Is there anything I should know about the mood of the Court above?"
"Well, if we are currently under attack, it is by means of attempts to bore us to death. You've a new cousin, a Captain Raven, late of the Navy. Oh, and Robin and Venesch decided to kiss and make up rather than duel. I could write a treatise on success in court based on mistakes the man made. He never did understand how Fortune's Wheel turned..."
He pauses and it seems as if he's done. Then he adds, quietly. "I'd have to publish it anonymously, of course..."
One of those is even of interest to Brennan and ordinarily he would ask questions of parentage that would be rude in most other circles. Instead, he gives a frowning shrug: "Maybe I'm imagining things, then," although he doesn't seem convinced.
[Not sure if Bleys will respond to that or not. Feel free to cut the next part if it moves too fast.]
[OOC: While I know what you mean, Bleys missed it. He's exceptionally low water for a Sorcerer. Or maybe he's not. :) ]
"I'm sure Conner will be calling on you in the near future, as I'll be calling on Fiona. If it should be convenient to do so, let Folly know that I'm looking forward to her testing any Trump of me she might draw."
"I'll send a note by page," he offers absently.
After the conversation with Random plays out, Conner searches out Fiona's trump from Llewella's deck and moves off to contact his mother.
After concentrating on it, if Conner receives the traditional question, Conner replies, "It's Conner, Mother. I have news from Rebma."
Fiona holds her location tightly in the contact, as she is wont to do. As usual, Conner suspects she knew who he was before he identified himself; she rarely asks the question that others, even Uncle Bleys, seem to need. "What's gone wrong?" she asks, her hand moving toward Conner. "Who is with you, and do any of you need to come through?"
Conner responds mentally to Fiona's questions. "No one needs to come through, Mother. Brennan and Celina are in the same room engaged in their own calls. As to what has gone wrong," Conner sighs, "Khela is dead. We gained access to Rebma's Pattern chamber and Khela tried to claim her birthright and failed. Celina was named her successor and has claimed the title of Queen with Aunt Llewella's support." Conner twists slightly to make Halosydne's more visible in the contact. "Before her attempt to walk, Khela's last act as Queen was to make me Knight of Rebma, bearer of the Pattern blade."
No emotion filters through, but that's to be expected with Fiona, particularly if the news is unwelcome. The death of Khela is exactly that, if only because she represented a rapprochement between Rebma and the redheads and made promises, fulfilled in Halosdyne, to Conner.
After a moment, she says, "I am proud of you, and I grieve for Rebma's loss. Are you able to talk now about the ramifications, or should we wait until later?"
"It is best we speak now, Mother. This Trump is borrowed and so I fear is this moment of quiet in which to speak." Conner replies. "The political issues are non-trivial but manageable I think. Khela made arrangements for her factions to support Celina should this scenario come to pass and the Tritons still back Celina. No doubt Moire or another Rebman royal will try to take advantage but that is only to be expected. We should be able to stave off civil war."
"We need to locate Moire at once," Fiona tells Conner with her usual decisiveness. "Even if there's not a civil war, there will be trouble from her end at some point. And you'll need Celina to seal the blade to you. Your uncle will know how that's to be done, if he hasn't already told you."
"Brennan speaks to Uncle Bleys now by Trump. Hopefully I can ask before there conversation ends." Conner comments. "As to Moire, I would be grateful for any advice on that front. The Eye has the weaknesses of any mirror scrying and while I can use to sorcery to defeat tricks of light and darkness and I have been concerned about more advanced safeguards. Once when I tried to scry Bend, Valeria somehow froze and reversed the scrying using a circle of mirrors. Assuming Moire has better tricks up her sleeves, I have been reluctant to use the Eye to find her."
Fiona nods. "I would be very careful about scrying for her with the Eye. If they know you have it, they'll have taken precautions against it. If I were feeling cruel, I'd send for Mother." She smiles, too brightly to be be real. "But I'm not. I don't think we're quite that desperate yet. Ask the royal magicians--particularly the men--and see what they think. And ask the Tritons who served her most closely, if you haven't already. And be sure that when you do, you ask about mirrors: what they know, and particularly where they were made."
Conner files all of that away for future reference. "Thank you, Mother. I shall." Conner pauses for moment. "I am still working to understand the metaphysics for what is happening here. The Rebman Pattern seems stronger that ever after Huon's gambit. Moreover, it is now green. I was intending to walk Rebma's Pattern myself on the theory that the bearer of Rebma's Pattern blade should be attuned to said Pattern. Now, I am uncertain." That last is said with a questioning tone to invite Mother to give her opinion.
"My understanding is that to complete your attunement you need to be gifted the sword by the King, or in this case the Queen. If Khela did not survive the Pattern, she cannot have qualified as Queen in that sense."
Fiona considers the rest of Conner's description for a moment. "The color change is new to me. There is something still awry about the Rebman Pattern. Celina seems to have survived it, which means you should be able to walk with the blade and gain a partial attunement in that way. The best course in the long run is to support Celina and see to her survival and attunement to the Pattern. My first approximation of the requirement for that task is that the Sapphire is necessary. I cannot say whether it is sufficient."
Conner nods in understanding. "When I spoke to Khela of the binding of the Tritons, she said they were bound by the power of throne and jewel and the tokens of sword and scepter. There has been much discussion of the throne, the jewel, and the sword but that is the only mention of the scepter. Yet another question for the archivists." Conner squares his jaw. "Thank you for your advice Mother. As always, it has given me much to think on."
"Call on me again when you have more data. This is an interesting problem and I shall be interested in seeing how it develops, even apart from your own involvement. Be well, Conner." Politely, she waits for Conner to dismiss the Trump contact, even though she is more than capable of closing it herself.
"Be well, Mother. Give my regards to Brita when next you meet." Conner manages to find a smile for Fiona and then passes his hand over the card.
After the conversation with Random plays out, Celina slides out her Father's Trump and Benedict's from Llewella's deck and nods to Conner and Brennan as they move to the room's other quadrants.
She lifts her father's card. She thinks on that day when they talked father and daughter about Family and murder. Corwin's long ago comment about Moire comes back to her at that moment. 'What's about to happen to Moire is probably worse than anything I could do to her.'
When you dance alone, you are never out of step. Celina entertains the thought she had that day. So Kings and Queens must be very alone.
She studies her Father in the card. Smiling, arms folded, and beautiful green eyes heavily shadowed. Parys reveals him moreso than this card does. How young was he? Did Dworkin actually have artistic insight with the sons of Oberon or was that Art not required in making these wondrous doorways to soul? Celina wills the image to become the man. Her voice comes out husky, "Father, it is Celina. I have news."
After a moment, there is contact. "Celina? What is it?" He's somewhere in the Louvre, not a place known to her.
"Rebma has lost her queen. Khela perished less than a watch ago on the Pattern. Llewella and Random know this. I can report the Pattern of Rebma seems to have escaped serious damage from Huon's blood attack. In fact, it is stronger than ever." She nods at his change of expression. "I shall inform the Emerald Court that I am taking the throne. Arrangements shall be made for an eternal shrine as soon as Family business is taken care of. You are invited to attend the ceremony of dedication. If you could pass the word to Florimel and Vere, I would be grateful." The husky tone of her voice throbs a bit at the end and she pauses.
Whatever Corwin was expecting, it wasn't this.
"You've talked to Random? What did he say about--no, this isn't the time to worry about that. Are you all right, and where's Moire?"
"I am as fine as I look," Celina responds more softly. Two separate emotions attempt to tempest in her at once and neither succeeds. He asked a caring question. He must know what Khela meant to her. Moire, of course. "Moire is at large in shadow or nearby I presume. She needs to be close enough to get word of events but not so close that Khela can take... that Rebma might restrict her liberty and call her to account for Lucas. Is Florimel still in Paris?"
Celina smiles a bit. "How are you, otherwise? Are there things you and Khela discussed that I should know now?"
"Your aunt is here. Vere and Merlin are gone beyond Ygg; they'll be almost impossible to reach." Corwin scowls at the idea. "I'd send Flora to you, but I have wayfarers en route. I assume Random told you about Fletcher and Silhouette?"
The question about himself he leaves unanswered, perhaps because it doesn't seem important to him just now. It's difficult to tell; he's almost as hard to read through the Trump connection as he would be in the room.
Send Florimel? Intriguing. "Random did tell me about Fletcher and Silhouette." Celina moves the conversation up a level. "Rebma needs the Jewel back from Moire. What can you tell me about laying my hands on it without killing my mother?"
"Not much, unfortunately." The scowl hasn't abated yet. "The right person--someone with the combination of the right skills and pre-existing attunement--might be able to find Moire with the Jewel of Judgement. I understand it matters politically but most of its metaphysical properties may not be that useful to you."
That answer was helpful on at least three axes. She did not expect that. "And Moire is not attuned, is she? As far as you know, no one is attuned to Rebma's Jewel."
Corwin shakes his head in the negative. "I can't say. I don't know enough about how that attunement works to be certain. From something Random said years ago, while he was waiting out his sentence there, I think Moire might have the sort of attunement Eric had to the Jewel. But Eric's knowledge was incomplete. He just knew enough to get himself into trouble."
So many kinds of Trouble. But then.... "I seem to be good at trouble myself," Celina says. "I will understand if you do not have time for attending Khela's memorial. Be safe, Father. Do you have a Trump of yourself that you could spare for me?"
"Not to hand, but I can send a deck with a diplomatic bag." Corwin doesn't explain what a diplomatic bag is.
Celina feels that somehow she's had a decent conversation with her father and accepts his offer. She nods. "That would be very good. We'll look for that soon then. Peaceful sea."
A pause, she puts her hand lightly over the card. Then she slides it back into the pile carefully as if an heirloom.
After the conversation with Corwin plays out, Celina slides her Father's Trump away.
She lifts her Benedict's card. She knows little about him except that he is respected in Rebma and he is Lilly's father. He did not raise her, but he allowed Lilly to know him. She likes that.
She studies Benedict in the Art. She notes the fine animal there behind him. It is unusual to have another living thing in the Trump with the subject. Something Merlin said to her when sketching for her own portrait tickles at her memory. And too, there are living flowers coiled about the staff in his hand. Very interesting.
Celina wills the image to become the man. Her voice is clear but low, "Uncle Benedict, it is Celina. I have news you should hear."
Benedict's image turns from flat and young to older and three dimensional. He's mounted and he's wearing armor, which has an empty arm.
He raises a visor and looks at her. "What news, Celina?", he replies.
"The news is sad," Celina says. "Today Rebma lost Queen Khela to the Pattern. Llewella knows. Random and Corwin are informed. You are invited to a memorial for Khela who gave her life for the good of Rebma." She goes on less formally, "I can report that the Pattern seems healthy and stronger than ever, as I have walked it again myself. Huon's actions have not been without impact here. I must face the Court and take the Throne as Khela's heir. I have support from Llewella, Brennan and Conner here immediately and good wishes from Random and Corwin. I think the Tritons will support me as well. Are there any arrangements you had with Khela that you would wish me to know of?"
Benedict shakes his head. "No arrangements that were binding, apparently." He is either cold or holding his emotions tightly in check. "Are you seeking my blessing for taking the throne? If so, I must ask what your intentions towards Rebma are."
"I was seeking to make you known of those things dear to Rebma and Family," Celina says to cover that she never thought about 'blessings' at all. "My intentions towards Rebma are to see it prosper and defend it against all cold murder."
Benedict nods. "I see. I am not opposed to these intentions, but I can imagine that others would claim the same. I am opposed to conflict in Rebma, because it would affect other realms, including my home, which is near to it. If you can achieve your intentions, I will not interfere." He pauses, as if looking at something in whatever shadow-realm he inhabits, then nods. "I wish you well, Celina; you have undertaken a difficult task."
Celina smiles. "It will be worth my life to see Rebma safe. Thank you for your consideration." She decides not to end this call just yet, who knows when there will be another chance. She steadies herself. Just asking this question hurts. "Khela's defeat on the Pattern was foretold by you, according to Llewella. I am obligated to defend Rebma while living and to think of its future if I am dead. What learning do you recommend to me regards my heir being able to essay the Pattern?"
Benedict pauses, as if considering the next dozen moves in a chess game. "There is little advice I can give you, except to tell you to choose their father well."
"That is advice I am glad to follow." Celina nods. "Would you consider the honor of being that father?"
"No," replies Benedict. "Suffice it to say that I have good reason and do not wish to explain it to you. If you master the Pattern of Rebma, you will know why."
"Thank you,' Celina says simply. "Even without explanation, you do me a courtesy. Then might I infer Order suggests I wait to choose a mate until after I marry the Rebma Pattern?"
Benedict's voice seems flat, as if he's used to going into a teaching mode at a moment's notice. "Consider that the first action that your predecessor took was to establish a clear succession. It is what your subjects will be most interested in, immediately. Consider the effect if you had a child and she were incapable of essaying the pattern, and you were not able to explain to her why this was. Prudence suggests this course; Order merely enforces consequences to choices."
"Glady will I consider these things. Thank you again," Celina says. "I will not keep you. Business awaits me here unless you have other news for Rebma?"
Benedict shakes his head, a spare movement. "I do not. At some future point, we should discuss what you mean by marriage to Moin's pattern. Now is not the time for that. It shall wait until you have established yourself in the City."
After a brief interlude with Brennan where various cards and keys are exchanged, Conner withdraws to his quiet corner. He draws Halosydne, places the point on the floor, and keeps one hand on the hilt almost leaning on it casually. Then he concentrates on the card of Bleys in his other hand. "It is Conner, Uncle. Recent developments lead me to seek more information on Pattern Blades."
Bleys smiles. From the sight and sound of the waterfall behind him, he's in Xanadu. "I believe that you have found more information on Pattern Blades. Welcome to the fraternity, my boy. May you never be in conflict with it."
"Thank you, Uncle. I too hope for harmony between myself, Rebma, and Halosydne" Conner reflexively finds a smile to match that of Bleys. "Before her walk, Khela knighted me and instructed me to bond myself to the sword through blood which I did. Given the results of Khela's walk," Conner pauses for a moment, jaw quivering, "given those results, Mother worried that I was not properly sealed to the sword. Do you know what needs to be done or redone with Queen Celina and the sword?"
Bleys looks Conner over from head to foot, all the while biting his bottom lip. "There was a ceremony when I was given Werewindle, but it was about public acknowledgement of my role in Father's service. Your mother or I could verify that the blade is bound to you with some tests, but if you are bound, you are bound. The sword is dedicated to the protection of the Pattern and by extension, the castle, the Queen, and the city. The influence can be subtle or it can be very direct. You could not, for instance, strike down the Queen with that blade. Not if she was bound to the Pattern as Oberon was to Amber's." Bleys smiles. "I don't speak from experience there, but I must admit to some trepidation about the potential for our crossing the Queen of Air and Darkness while Corwin bears her sword."
He pauses. "Don't mistake it for some sort of sentient magical construct, it's not that. It is an expression of a certain mathematical inflection point in the pattern equations which binds an individual protector to it to create a reinforcing harmonic. I would re-create the bonding scene in open court. The blood effect is striking and people will know that some magic has happened.
"A little circus to go with the bread." Conner nods. "Thank you for the idea. I think for good measure I'll have Queen Celina knight me again. The pomp may not be required by our circumstance but why take chances?" Conner grins slightly. "If you will indulge a historical question, did you have any concerns of Werewindle becoming unusable when you marched on Amber?"
Bleys raises his eyebrows. "None at all. The city was being held by a Prince who was clearly not the King. He had stated his intention to crown himself. As the appointed defender, I was only doing my duty."
"Agreed, and I hope no offense was taken by my asking. I asked because I have so many unanswered questions on my current course." Conner nods with a smile. "How confusing the question of what makes a monarch seems to be of late. Moire held power for so long with the barest of trappings. Prince Eric even went so far as wield the Jewel yet was no monarch metaphysically. So now I back Celina and I find myself asking if she is truly Queen. So much I would have taken as proof in the past now seems insufficient or irrelevant." Conner shakes his head. "Pardon my rambling Uncle. So much has happened so quickly and I am still processing it all."
"Not at all, Nephew, " says Bleys, bowing slightly from the neck. "It's fascinating to watch your thought processes. Don't forget that many people think that Moins was the last legitimate Queen of Rebma. Pattern Cities are stateless entities, and part of their statelessness is that they have histories which match their timelessness. This is why Paris has a thousand year history and catacombs. One day Xanadu will have always been there. I give it a decade, more or less."
"The opportunity to watch timelessness develop in real time is a fascinating notion." Conner comments and muses on that paradox for a moment. "I did have one other topic to ask you about, Uncle. Do you have any advice on how to balance being both a sorcerer and a Pattern harmonic? I am presuming that bearing the blade will make the use of sorcery difficult to say the least. When circumstances allow, I intend to find a place in shadow to practice and see if I can adjust to the new normal."
"I've made a few notes. I'm wondering if, in a few generations of inhabitants, both I and my notes recall a different, longer past. I may be immune, because of Werewindle. We have our own variation on statelessness." He looks to his left, as if someone has entered his field of vision. "You certainly don't want to emulate your cousin Merlin, who used his father's pattern-sword as part of a spell. It saved him from Dara's cards, but I understand it was ... unpleasant for him." Bleys nods, possibly not to Conner. "I think your plan is best. The skill you want to practice is idiosyncratic by nature and your experience of it will be different than mine, or even Corwin's. As Dworkin explains Order, pattern use is an intensifying of it. Sorcery is the opposite. You may find it challenging to use Sorcery because of who you are. Not impossible, mind you, just requiring more willpower."
"Thank you for all your help, Uncle. Fare well until next we meet." Conner passes his hand over the card and cuts the connection.
Once Brennan and Conner are done talking to Bleys and Fiona, respectively, Brennan lends out his copy of Bleys' Trump in exchange for the key to Rebma's Pattern chamber. There is a very limited amount of time before his movements are tracked, not just with the oppressive scrutiny of gossip, but with the military precision of a hungry court in crisis, and he wants to do what he came to Rebma to do, before that happens.
With key in hand, he makes certain that Celina, at least, knows where he's going. Then he takes a light source and goes there, making his his way back down from the waterless viewing gallery, down through the palace, then down below it through the passages that lead to the Pattern Chamber. Brennan puts the conjured key back in the lock, opens the door, takes the key again, and closes the door behind him....
...And leans back against the door from the inside, almost, not quite, sagging against it. He takes a deep, choppy lungful of water, and expels it. Again. Again. Only in Rebma must you breathe your own shed tears.
Enough.
Get to work.
He pushes himself off the door and walks, deliberately, to the start of the Pattern. "What were you thinking?" Each word is tightly controlled, even clipped with anger. "What could you possibly have expected?" Brennan spends a long time at the start of the Pattern, surveying it carefully, re-playing in his mind every moment of the tragedy he saw a watch ago. He starts walking, not on the Pattern, but just along its perimeter.
"What exactly did you think was going to happen?" There are a few key moments and locations he has marked in his mind-- when they respectively hit the Veils, when he lost sight of them, when Celina stumbled and Khela caught her. "That she wasn't going to feel obligated to Walk the damned thing?" As he walks along the outside of it, he keeps those points in mind. He wants to see the relationship of the points to each other-- how do they line up? Where do they point? "That she was going to put it off? Save it for later? Back down? Back off?"
Brennan is also looking for evidence of physical damage, or oddities. He's recently seen the remnants of Amber's Pattern, and the great crack running through it. As best he can from the outside, he examines the corresponding points of Rebma's Pattern. "You're supposed to be the long range thinker, the strategist. Half a dozen lifetimes lived--"
And the points of Amber's damage-- do they correspond to any of the events that he witnessed on Rebma's Pattern? Especially where Celina stumbled and Khela caught her. That's the event to which Brennan's mind keeps returning. That's the moment of fundamental impossibility, both of them together at the same time, at the same place. Two distinct beings cannot do that, especially not on a Pattern. "--and you never bothered to think that she didn't believe the warning?!"
So was the flaw in Khela? Or in the Pattern? Or neither-- was her Real-ness a quality possible for Khela to surrender for the sake of aiding Celina? "You didn't think Llewella's absence was conspicuous, master strategist? Or was it just not worth thinking about?"
The pattern looks like the one in his mind and the pattern of Tir, reversed. There are no unexpected irregularities, nor are their breaks or damage. It's as if Brennan is the first person ever to enter this room.
And therein lies part of the puzzle, Brennan thinks, as he backs away from the design-- why is it a reversal of Amber's and Tir's? Is that an essential feature of it, implying some primacy of Amber and Tir? Or is it just some lesser accident of its construction, signifying little.
Neither seems to fit, implying some third category that Brennan hasn't yet understood.
"And you," Brennan mutters. "What were you thinking?" Once he's back well away from the design, he pushes himself up off the floor, and kicks his way up to the ceiling.
"I wasn't sure until just a few hours ago, but you were warned. Repeatedly, from what I gather." Once he's up at the ceiling, he makes his way over to the rough area that he came in before-- above the Pattern, encased in a shell, grabbed by the Eater. Brennan is looking specifically for any evidence of the thing's presence, passage departure.
"Did they have some motive to lie to you? Benedict, of all people?" A patch too smooth, a patch too rough, an abnormal indentation, discoloration-- Brennan isn't sure exactly what he's looking for, so that means he has to be thorough and open-minded.
"Did Llewella have some reason to lie to you? That's why she wasn't here with you, and why you wouldn't wait-- she'd have tried to stop you." Once he's done with the ceiling, he turns his attention back to the floor. There were remnants of the thing he was encased in-- the Aelfs' gem, he thinks-- after he broke free of it. He's looking for evidence of those, too, either floating in the water, or buoyed up to the ceiling or sunk down to the floor.
Neither the floor, nor the ceiling, nor the water shows any evidence of the Eater's passage. It is as if the chamber is timeless and static.
"Did you stop and think that they were just telling the truth?"
Brennan scowls, both at the persistent null results, and his own thoughts. Once he's done with the ceiling, he kicks himself back down to the floor, giving the design a wide berth-- there should be no physical currents in a locked room, but this close to an object of such power, it pays to be cautious.
"No. No, I did not, but that was different."
What Brennan does next is necessarily going to be time consuming-- any deliberate pursuit of knowledge is. It begins with a deep meditative state of mind and an opening of the senses, but senses attuned to the Pattern not senses attuned to Sorcery. As deep a meditative state as he can achieve and still safely move around in a Pattern chamber. This is new territory for him, so he takes as long as he takes.
"Because even death was preferable. Can you say the same?"
But while there might be a visual aspect to what he's trying to do, that's not the sense of interest. Rather, it's something he'd describe to Bleys or Fiona or Conner as a metaphysical equilibrioception-- balance, motion, orientation. Brennan knows that things tend to accrete around Patterns, moving toward them over time. One theory, Order-centric, is that Patterns metaphysically warp reality in a way that pulls things toward them, like a gravitational field. Another, Chaos-centric, is that random motion is the natural state, but that Patterns impede that. The natural result is that when a random motion takes something nearer to a Pattern, there is simply less random motion to take it farther away again. One view is of a constant invasive pressure; the other of constant, inexplicable theft. Both, to a first order approximation, giving the same result.
"'With all your essence?' That's low. You weren't even there."
It's a rich theory, with many avenues for research-- Brennan believes that Family members should naturally, and might consciously, cause the same effects on a smaller scale. Perhaps objects like Pattern blades, as well. But the key feature for this experiment is that the effect drops off with distance, in theory, very sharply. Far out in Shadow, perhaps even far away in Rebma, the effects would be slowly changing. But here, with a Pattern so close he can reach out and touch it, and in the right state of mind, Brennan thinks he should be able to sense the difference by that metaphysical sense of balance-- by walking from the edge of the chamber to the edge of that Pattern. Even by standing sideways and stretching both arms out in different directions.
"Yes, I know. Yes, it might kill me. Probably will, when you come down to it."
So that's what he does-- instead of looking for problems and not finding any, he looks for evidence that things function. Instead of looking with Sorcery, he works from first principles of Order.
"Because, at the end of the day, it's worth fighting for. Cause and effect, conscience and consequence." Brand never said that, as far as Brennan knows. But he might have.
But that's not the only common mode of transport through Shadow-- The Faiella-Bionin is another, and whose functioning Brennan doesn't even pretend to understand. But he has hunches, and an unprecedented opportunity for some research. Bleys may think it's trivial because he doesn't need it; Brennan thinks it's critical because everyone else does.
"Leave her out of this! No, I didn't, and neither would she. Because it's my decision to make. It's my decision what meaning to craft of my life."
But however it works, Brennan has two hunches: That it effectively runs "through" the Patterns, and that it shows up here as some sort of directional influence-- one direction being toward the gate to Paris, and if another leg of the road leads somewhere else, that another directional disturbance will point to its geographic manifestation. And Brennan knows where the gate to Paris lies in relation to this chamber.
"Yes, fine. You win. Just remember this: The rest of us have to make meaning out of your death."
And so it's a strange, looping walk that Brennan takes: From the outer edge of the design, spiralling out slowly around it even as the Pattern itself spirals in on itself. Just like, Brennan muses to himself in a far corner of his mind, a mirror image reversing inside and outside, instead of left and right.
"Still pissed at you, though, my friend."
Brennan's pattern senses are battered as soon as he uses them. In the pattern chamber, opening oneself up to the influences of Order is difficult. It screams here, it burns here, it overwhelms. Brennan has no success in determining subtle variations in the strength of relative differences, because there is too much signal. It is beyond even his fire and pattern to detect what he's looking for at the fringes of the actual pattern.
Last modified: 20 October 2011