Laid to Rest

In Paris, before the funeral, Vere finds a page and gives him a written message for Lord Brennan. If Brennan has not yet arrived in Paris, then the message is to be delivered as soon as he arrives.

The message is sealed with wax, and an impression of a flying hawk.

It reads:

"My Lord Cousin,

There is a matter I would discuss with you. I believe you may already have been informed of the subject. If you desire to speak with me, send word, and I will come at your convenience. If you do not wish to speak with me at this time I understand, and will await whatever future date you might prefer for such conversation, if ever.

- Vere"

Brennan does not delay in travelling from Xanadu to Paris. When he receives the message he raises a silent eyebrow. A matter? Singular? Brennan thought there would have been several. No matter.

The response is sent back:

Cousin,

Yes, there is much to speak of, and no reason to delay it.

- Brennan

The page bringing Vere the letter will be able to direct him to a quiet nook in the palace or the city at large where they can sit, and talk uninterrupted. Brennan will be there when Vere arrives.

Vere arrives within a quarter watch of receiving the reply from Brennan. He moves to within Brennan's line of site, and then waits, standing quietly, for Brennan to acknowledge his presence.

Brennan looks up from his coffee as Vere arrives, sees that Vere is waiting for a sign and gestures him over. Brennan does not remember whether Vere takes coffee or tea, and so both are available.

Brennan's still going to wait for Vere to speak first.

Vere nods a greeting and sits. He is silent for a while as he takes a sip of tea. When Brennan does not speak, Vere says, "I hope you will accept my condolences for your loss."

"I will. Thank you, Vere," He says. Brennan takes a sip of coffee, himself. "What's on your mind?" Brennan has a bit of a game face on; cautious, but not hostile.

"I have a certain talent," Vere says. "One that I have not made public knowledge. It is not that I have hidden it, you understand, merely that I have not spoken of it to many people. As is often the case with such secrets, knowledge of it appears to be spreading."

"I see," Brennan says. "I can hardly speak for the rest of the Family, but in my experience, hidden talents are not often the issue themselves. How they are used is quite another matter."

Vere nods. "Indeed. And they also lead to a habit of secrecy, a tendency for the possessor to use them without consulting others who might have a valid right to know. Especially if the possessor sees a situation in which time is an issue."

"Yes. That would be a broad example of 'how they are used,' causing issues and, potentially, great anger," Brennan says.

"That would be most regrettable", Vere says. He takes another sip of tea. "Upon reflection, one might feel that while one acted with the best of intentions, one owes a debt to those emotionally involved, who were not consulted before such an action was undertaken."

"That would be a stance of uncommon grace, in this Family," Brennan says. "Speaking hypothetically, were you in such a situation, how would you handle it?"

"Hypothetically," Vere answers, "I believe that I would seek out the ones who were involved, and seek to learn their feelings upon the matter. I would most likely express my regret that there was no time nor method of contacting them before I acted, and that if there had been I would have done so, to explain what I intended to do, and seek their permission before I acted. I would also explain that, while upon reflection I can see how this might strike them, it is something that comes naturally to me, and has done so since I was in my early teens. The intensity of the reactions to this hypothetical action would have, hypothetically, come as a surprise to me." Vere takes a sip of tea, and then adds, quietly, "I would also have to tell them that, quite honestly, I still believe I made the correct decision, given the information that I had at that time. Obviously, if I had possessed the information that I now possess, most specifically that information concerning their reactions, then that decision would not have been correct."

"I see," Brennan says. "And if someone came to me, hypothetically, asking for my advice our counsel in such a case, I would be forced to ask them for their version of events."

"Shall we drop the game, and speak plainly, Cousin?" Vere asks quietly. "You have been told what I did, yes?"

"Yes," Brennan says. "Yes, I have. I returned to Xanadu from Amber, and before that from Rebma, to find her in the state chapel, under protective guard. Your father and I had a very long talk."

No longer speaking hypothetically, Brennan takes a long, stabilizing sip of his coffee before continuing. "I am very angry, Vere. But I would still hear your version of events and your reasoning."

"Very well, then," Vere says. "It began while I was leading the refugees from my home shadow towards Paris, with the intent of taking them to Rebma." He smiles thinly, "A story in itself, and one I would like to discuss with you, if we have time, and if you feel like speaking to me after we finish this matter. To continue, I was in my tent after a long day of shadowshifting for thousands of people, when Solange contacted me via trump, to inform me of Cambina's death and the disappearance of the Queen. She asked if I could speak with Cambina's death, to learn what had happened to her, and what had become of the Queen. I agreed, although I pointed out certain logistical difficulties, as I had no way of quickly returning to my people if I left to go to Amber, and I did not know whether my gift would work through a trump. She told me she would contact me momentarily."

Vere takes a sip of tea before continuing. "However, it was considerably longer than that before she contacted me, and she was somewhat perturbed. She brought Cambina's body with her, upon a wheeled litter. She told me that our father and King Corwin did not approve of our course of action. I sought to contact Father via trump to determine the reason for his objections, but could not reach him. I asked Solange then for the reasons our father and uncle had given for their objections. She said that Father objected because he did not wish to bring the customs of the Isles to Amber or Xanadu, and that no good comes from speaking with the dead, and that one can not trust the word of a ghost."

Vere shrugs slightly. "It might be hubris, but I considered those objections to be purely emotional, and not borne out by my personal experience. I inquired as to the nature of Corwin's objections, and she told me that he did not give any, he merely, 'folded his arms and gave me a look.' We discussed the situation somewhat further, and I eventually decided that the potential to learn something outweighed the rather vague objections, and looks, of our elders. I summoned Cambina's spirit."

Vere pauses then, watching Brennan, to see if he has anything to say or ask before he continues.

"When Gerard spoke of this to me, the term he used was, 'forbade.' The Regent of Xanadu, your father, considers that he and the King of Paris both forbade this activity. Do you consider yourself to have been misled by your sister?" Brennan asks. He's put the coffee cup down, because he realized he was holding it a little too tightly.

"I do not believe she deliberately misled me," Vere answers. "Father and Solange are both very ..." he pauses, then says with a certain emphasis, "They are both very determined when they believe they are in the right. I attempted to ask Father later what he had said exactly, but when Father is in a mood he considers questions to be impertinence. What I believe happened is that Father expressed his dislike of the idea, Corwin glowered, both of them considered that equivalent to having forbidden the action, and Solange, since they had not used the word 'forbid,' considered herself to have only been counseled against it, not forbidden it." He shrugs. "As a purely academic exercise, I intend at some point in the future to ask Hannah what was actually said by all parties involved. She was the only other member of the family present."

Brennan considers that statement in the privacy of his own thoughts. He does not share his evaluation with Vere. He does gesture for Vere to continue, if there is more.

"I summoned her, then," Vere says. "Understand, for me, there is nothing mystical here. No rituals, no calling upon dark powers. It is not even sorcery. The dead have spoken to me since I was a boy. In the Isles, there is a strong belief in ghosts, in reincarnation, in the lingering of souls, transmigration, and the passage to the Summer Land." He smiles slightly. "Contradictory and paradoxical views, to be sure, but that is the nature of life and of belief, is it not? In any case, for Cambina, I merely sat beside her and spoke to her, as I would have when she was still alive, asking her what had happened.

"Her spirit seemed far away, and she drew upon my own energy to gain the power to speak. She asked where she was, and said that her memory was not there, and she asked to be taken to where her memory was. I asked where that was, and she said, 'In a fog on a clear night, I climbed to where it is...' I took this to mean Tir Na Nog'th, although that is only conjecture. I asked what happened to Vialle, and she answered, 'She died.' And then her spirit departed." Vere falls silent, and he watches Brennan.

"And it is your claim that this section of the contradictory beliefs of your homeland are true throughout Reality and Shadow. That you spoke, in some meaningful way, with Cambina," Brennan says.

"Claim is too strong a word, Cousin," Vere answers. "Say, rather, 'belief.' I can tell you that the dead I have spoken to in Amber and Xanadu behave similarly to the dead to whom I have spoken in the Isles. And I can tell you that I believe that the spirits with whom I speak are in some way the same person as the living person they once were. But I can not offer evidence for this belief, only my personal conviction, which I admit has been shaped by the society in which I was raised." He lifts his teacup and swirls his hand in a circular motion, stirring the tea, but does not drink. "I believe it was Cambina with whom I spoke. But if someone were to say that it was a shadow of her, or a memory of her that the universe still contains, or even merely my own memory of her and my expectations of what she would say, manifesting externally, I could not offer any proof that was not the case."

"Claim is the right word. It is the claim you make to yourself, on the basis of your belief, and which justifies your actions. By inference, your sister makes the same claim." Brennan isn't interested in slicing words any farther than that, because he continues, "I am unconvinced, but you are, and for this conversation, that is enough."

Brennan looks at his coffee cup, but does not pick it up. "You compared your sister to your father, before. Let me suggest a way in which they differ: I have never seen, nor ever heard of, your father allowing his stubbornness to reduce a loved one to the status of an object, nothing more than the means to an end, as others of our Family have. And yet. Graverobbing. There is no other word for moving the body, when it had been forbidden. Summoning. If I believe you, that it was Cambina in some meaningful sense, it sounds like a horrific experience, summoned after trauma, and with no memory. And then a woman who disliked playing the oracle in life, forced to play the oracle in death, as much for your sister to prove she was right and everyone else was wrong, as for anything else. Make a list in your mind, Vere, of the people your sister used in this escapade.

"Do you understand, Cousin, why I am angry?" And even though Brennan's voice is level and controlled, no one could possibly miss the set of the jaw, the pitch of the voice, the stabbing eyes.

"Yes, Cousin, I understand," Vere answers in a steady voice. "And I will henceforth consider the opinions of family members very carefully before seeking to use my gifts with any member of the family, or with anyone for whom a member of the family cares." He puts his tea cup down and lays both hands on the table, palms down. "Is there aught I may do to make amends with you?"

"You may understand in part," Brennan says, and does not elaborate, but there is tension in the muscles of his jaw, by which he prevents himself from clenching his teeth.

"Amends," Brennan says. "The only possible way to make amends to Cambina would compound your offense. This is forbidden. In this, you owe a debt you cannot repay, to one who cannot collect. Some in the Family would regard that as the ideal debt to carry, but I don't think you are in that number. And so I want to you to remember and to imagine yourself pulled somewhere unknown, after a violent death, disoriented, confused, amnesiac, and interrogated by someone who, in that state, she might not even have recognized. Live a long life, Vere. Remember it for that long. Remember it often."

Vere's eyes narrow slightly at Brennan's words, but he does not speak.

Brennan continues, "For me, no. Not at this time. Begin by knowing this: Solange has yet to even offer to make this right. In this, she is hampered by her banishment, her lack of a Trump, and that I have not chosen to seek her out. Do not assist her, either in contacting me or anything else concerning me. Be very certain she does not use you again. What burdens are placed upon her are hers alone. You may tell her only that she may be thankful I do not insist you speak with Kyril's shade to obtain its opinion on being summoned from beyond the grave."

"Do what you will with Shadows, Vere, but let the Heavy dead lie still. Should we find ourselves in contention over this point again, we will not be sharing coffee and tea. Do you understand?"

"I understand you," Vere answers in a voice devoid of emotion.

"Then for the time being," Brennan says, "Speak of it no more in my presence." Despite that conclusion, Brennan does not immediately move to leave, but instead works to force some expression back into his face, or at least to force the cold lack of expression away. If Vere wants to talk about some other topic, this would be an appropriate time to change the subject.

Vere nods. He is silent for a short while, then says, "This is not a good time for me to ask a favour of you, Cousin. But I am shortly to travel beyond Ygg, and I do not know when I will return. If you will speak of it to me, I would learn what it is you have discovered about Robin. She told me you had discovered there was a problem, but Robin has difficulty speaking of what happened to her upon the Black Road. I am concerned."

Having something else to concentrate on, besides his anger, Brennan does so. Much, but not all, of the tension drains out of him along with a long, long exhalation. When he looks back up at Vere, he is more tired than angry.

"Speaking of hidden talents, you will be aware already that I am a Sorcerer. If that wasn't clear from what Robin told you, it's clear, now, and not a secret I keep. That's not the awkwardness. But I feel I'm in an awkward position," Brennan says. "She discussed this with you; she is all right with my discussing it with you? It's not a confidence I would break lightly."

"I appreciate that," Vere answers. "What she told me was that something had happened on the Black Road, and that you were one of the people she had spoken to who had helped her learn it was not merely madness, which she feared, but something that had actually occurred. And that whatever it was, she felt it meant she should not come to Paris." He smiles grimly. "She said she did not know if it would be Universe-destroying bad, or merely becoming-completely-psychotic bad, but she did not doubt it would be bad." He shrugs, very slightly. "Honestly, we did not discuss my speaking of it with you, as it did not seem wise to me to press her for any more details at that time. Robin has difficulty putting what happened to her on the Black Road into words, and I did not wish to waste what little time we had together."

Brennan frowns, with something on the verge of annoyance. "I can't think of anything I said-- or anything I saw, for that matter-- that would warn her away from Paris. She carries no threat within her, although she does need to discover what happened to her. To say more, would, I think, be the breaking of a confidence, and even though she and I are cross with each other, I'm not ready to do that."

"Robin is a creature of instinct," Vere answers with a nod. "I am more linear in my thinking, and sometimes have trouble following her reasoning."

"Tell me about this Floating Woman of yours, though," [Brennan] asks.

"The Queen of Air and Darkness," Vere says musingly. "King Corwin was interested in her, as well. When Jerod and I traveled from Paris to Rebma we paused to rest in a cavern halfways down the stairs. I thought that I awakened during the night, to find myself alone, save for a woman seated upon a throne. Her skin was purest white, and her hair was red, and floated about her, and she sat in a cold light. She wore a robe of white, and a silver chain about her neck. The chain fell beneath her robe, and I could not see what gem it bore, if any. She spoke to me in Thari, and said, 'What great disturbance is it that brings you before my throne, oh ghost?' and I realized that I was transparent, like a spirit."

He takes a sip of his tea, and frowns when he realizes it has gone cold during their conversation. "I awakened then, and realized that it was a dream, or else a vision of my sleep, if there is any difference. When I went to where the throne had been there stood a stone formation that looked vaguely like a throne. Now, when I retunred up those stairs not long after, with the Children of Lyr, the throne felt somehow different to me, but I could not quite tell what the difference was. Some of my men were clearly nervous, and when questioned said that the cavern bore a resemblance to a place in certain myths of the Seaward, myths of the Queen of Air and Darkness. It reminded them of a cavern beneath a mountain, where blood sacrifices took place."

He puts the tea cup back down. "I have such visions from time to time, Cousin. I cannot explain what it might have meant."

Brennan listens with great attention, and when Vere is finished, he makes no reply aloud, but reaches into a coat pocket and draws out a piece of paper. It is the sketch Brennan made after his dream in the Plain of Tower, but folded so that, while it is clear the woman is knighting someone, it is not clear exactly who.

Brennan looks up and waits for Vere to comment.

"I cannot swear it is the same woman," Vere answers. "But she certainly appears to be similar. Have you seen her? Robin and Solange both have."

"I dreamed her. The other figure is known to me, but despite not asking for the dream, it has the sense of... revealing a confidence," Brennan finishes, somewhat unhappily. "Some of your story brings to mind stories of the tricks that Tir-na Nog'th has played, letting two people converse across time." Something in that thought strikes Brennan, perhaps for the first time, and it makes him frown. "Has anyone ever put a proper name to this Queen?"

"Not in my hearing," Vere replies. "King Corwin clearly knows more of her, but we had other matters to discuss, and he did not tell me what he knows, merely asked for my description of my vision." He looks at the drawing again. "Solange and Robin both spoke of a sense that she was seeking someone..." he does not finish the thought.

"Solange and Robin saw her at the same time? Or different instances," Brennan asks. "In either case, we now have four Family members having seen some form of her in some way, all recently. It might be interesting to raise this at the Family gathering."

"Different instances," Vere answers. "Robin saw her for the first time in the Isles, and her brother and the other dragonriders saw her as well. The dragons could not perceive her, however. Robin saw the woman for the second time in the borderland between Arden and Arcadia. Solange saw her when she tracked down the Paresh and Elder Germaine. Germaine could see her as well, and implied that she had appeared there before. Solange made eye contact with her, and said that it felt almost like a trump contact, one that she could not break, until the woman decided that she was not the one she sought, and released her."

Brennan nods-- some of that he knew, some of it was either new information, or information newly clarified.

"I felt nothing like that, but I did not seem to be a participant in the dream, just a witness. In the dream, I don't think either of them knew I was there, and thus far, from descriptions of this woman, I think I'd like to keep it that way. I'm going to hazard the obvious guess that this is the Queen of Tir-na Nog'th by another title," Brennan says. He doesn't hazard his guess as to her proper name-- for that, he'll wait to speak with Ben or Corwin, who probably know. "That being the case, the obvious implication is that she's connected to the Moonriders." Brennan sighs. "For whatever good that knowledge does us."

Vere nods. "I will bring it up in the family meeting," he says. "Although I agree that there does not appear to be anywhere to go with it. Perhaps Aunt Fiona will find it this information of use."

"I think Fi will find it interesting, but I don't know about useful," Brennan says. "If I understand the history, this is a play in three acts. My guess is that Act One was back when Osric and Finndo were alive... or maybe a little later, if Corwin is taking an interest, but before Fiona's time in any event. Act Two is more history and less legend-- we know when the Battle of Jones Fall was. Just ask Bleys, he'll tell you all about it, so Fiona must have been around for it. And Act Three probably started at Oberon's Funeral. Hopefully we'll know more after the meeting tonight-- or be in a position to learn more, anyway."

Brennan changes the subject a little. "If I may ask, what takes you to the far side of the Tree."

"I seek to gather information on Chaosian shapeshifting," Vere answers, "With the intention of determining whether it can be used to aid in healing my father's injuries. Prince Merlin has agreed to act as my guide, and to advise me on where I might best seek such information." He smiles slightly, "And, as importantly, how to survive my search. I am under the impression he has had some slight disagreement with his father, and as his sister plans on department Paris for Rebma, and Merlin has no desire to go to Rebma at this time, this quest give him an excuse to depart. It is possible he also seeks to resolve certain issues of his own in Chaos, and if so, I have offered him what aid I can give, in return for his assistance in my quest. But he has been vague on this point, and I will not speculate further."

Brennan digests that. "Is Gerard aware of your plan?"

Vere nods. "I informed him and my mother of my plans earlier today," he answers.

Brennan's eyes narrow slightly, and he surely notices that Vere answered only the literal text of the question. He does not press. "You set hard goals for yourself, Cousin. And do you really need to speculate very far on what difficulties Merlin might face outside the protection of his father's realm?"

Vere smiles thinly. "No," he acknowledges, "The difficulties, or should I say Difficulty, is clear, and Merlin has quite honestly told me that I will most likely find myself opposed to it, if I travel with him. I consider this a part of my payment to him for his aid. No, what I do not speculate upon are Merlin's own reasons for agreeing to travel beyond Ygg at this time."

"Ah," Brennan acknowledges the new interpretation. "Well, I'm sure he'll make that clear at a time and place of his choosing. As for the Difficulty-- be careful with that one. It rarely travels alone, and even if it did, would be quite a bit to handle." Brennan also doesn't speculate on whether Merlin would stand and fight, or part the veil and bolt.

Vere nods. "Thank you for the advice," he says. "My only experience with things from the other side of the Tree was the War of the Black Forest, which is how the Black Road manifested in my mother's shadow. I am aware that the creatures that came through do not begin to compare with one of the Lords in their level of power or cleverness."

"If I knew exactly where the dividing line is," Brennan says, "or if I had a simple test for what was a Lord and what wasn't, I'd be a much happier man. I'm not sure the thing we've been referring to as the Eater is a proper Lord or not. I suspect no, on the technicality that it will try to eat any creature it encounters, rather than affinate it. Even so, it's a considerable obstacle."

Vere nods, and says, "I like Cousin Merlin, and he seems much like a normal member of the family to me," he smiles slightly, "For whatever value that word has when discussing our family. I did what I could to assist the Aisling in fitting in to the family, and I thought I understood it to some degree. But the more I hear of the true creatures of Chaos, the more I wonder if we can truly understand them. Or if their method of life is simply too anithetical to ours, and if we can never truly understand one another. You have more experience with them, cousin. Might I hear your thoughts on this?"

"Let me answer a question with a question: What do you know about the life-cycle of a typical creature of Chaos? Assuming for a moment that 'typical' has a meaning, here," Brennan says.

"From what I have pieced together," Vere answers, "It appears that they bud, splitting parts of themselves off to form new beings. If they are powerful enough, then the greater one retains its identity, and the new one is a separate being. Otherwise they are now two beings, each less than the original parent. They feed and grow by consuming other beings of Chaos, and seem to see little difference between flesh, personality, and memories in that consumption. I do not know if they age and die naturally, or if death comes to them only through murder, accident, or consumption." He tilts his head to one side, considering, then adds, "Family rumor is that Dworkin was a Lord of Chaos himself, and imposed Order on the universe through inscribing the Primal Pattern. My own theory is that the original Chaosians came from the Abyss, Primordial Chaos that allowed for the constant and timeless creation of infinite diversities, most of which ceased to exist as soon as they were formed, but one or more of which eventually achieved some form of stability - for even Order must occur in infinite Chaos." He smiles, straightening his head, "But matters of cosmogony are not what you are discussing here, I think."

"Substantially correct," Brennan says. "I see no reason to limit the number of 'parents' to one, or even two, or any particular number, and there are a few other points where I might quibble, but substantially correct. A salient point, there, is that memory and identity are as tangibly consumable as flesh and bone. Therefore," Brennan leans forward for emphasis, "Make no bargain or wager whose terms include any art of your self, and take care to leave no part of your self behind. It is extremely dangerous to you. It is extremely dangerous to the rest of us.

"But that said," Brennan continues, "as disturbing as it is to have a creature of Chaos speak with the voice and memories of a cousin, but it has happened. That alone tells me that understanding is possible. Difficult, but possible. And most of the Lords of Chaos we've encountered have been, in one way or another, Family members."

"I take your warning to heart," Vere says. "And I hope to learn more about Chaos and its inhabitants as an additional benefit of my travels beyond the Tree." He nods. "I will, of course, share whatever information I am able to gather."

"That would be appreciated," Brennan says. "Are you going to any place in particular, beyond the Tree?"

"That is up to Merlin," Vere replies. "I know almost nothing of the realms of Chaos. Have you any advice, or suggestions, that you would be willing to share?"

Brennan snorts. "Stay away from my grandmother," he says. "But I'm sure Merlin will know that already."

Vere smiles slightly. "I shall not seek out any Lords on my own," he replies, "And should I encounter any I shall treat them with courtesy and caution." He falls silent, regarding Brennan for a few moments, and then continues, "While there are no doubt other matters upon which we might profitably exchange information, no doubt they will be raised in the family meeting later. I thank you for meeting with me."

Lucas' body, cleaned and garbed in his finest clothes, and somehow preserved, has lain in state in the public area of the Louvre, and the citizens of Paris have come to pay their respects through the days of the viewing.

Now, at last, it is the time of the funeral, which is to take place in the great cathedral of Notre Dame de Paris. Under the watchful eye of Madame la Princesse Florimel--Lady St Just being occupied with her children--the four pallbearers take up the coffin and place it in the special carriage that will bear it through the streets.

There are special carriages set aside for the members of the royal family. Mourning clothes in the Parisian style have been provided; everyone looks splendid, even if the dark colors do not suit everyone. Apart from the hearse and the carriage for Solace and the children, most of the vehicles are open, and there is no privacy. It is a solemn parade to the great cathedral.

At Notre Dame, the four pallbearers bring the coffin to rest before the altar. The choir screen is still in place, as are the side altars and their candles. The sun is bright, and the stained-glass windows fill the building with a glorious light that's at odds with the solemnity of the occasion.

Pews have been brought in for the family members and other honored visitors, such as the delegations from the people of the Isles, and the Rebmans, but most of the floor is open for standing. Those who know the court recognize no one in the Rebman delegation. The new Queen of Rebma is with her ambassador.

[http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rood_screen]

Once the honored guests are seated, the public files in behind them, filling the remainder of the floor and spilling out into the street.

Those who have attended Catholic Mass on the shadow where Flora lived for many years recognize the outline of the ceremony, although there is very little religious about it other than the form. In the place of a priest, Corwin speaks and delivers the eulogy. One suspects that it, alone, is not arranged according to Lucas' will, for it is insufficiently fulsome. Nor does it speak in detail of how Lucas met his end. The public might think he'd choked on a chicken bone in his mistress' arms for all Corwin has to say about that.

Then the coffin is sprinkled with water, a custom unfamiliar to most, but one that seems to have some ceremonial meaning to Florimel.

When the ceremony is over, the four pallbearers come up again to take the coffin back to the hearse. A way clears through the milling crowd for them, and the members of the family follow in their wake. It seems as if the entire population of Paris is either following the procession or watching from the sidewalks as it passes.

The hearse leads another solemn procession to the cemetery in Montmartre, where the pallbearers perform their final duty.

There is a small mausoleum ready for the coffin, and the pallbearers place it carefully. With the family and as many citizens as can crowd in looking on, the tomb is sealed. Afterwards, the family is escorted back to their carriages, and proceeds back to the palace, where Alice has a light buffet meal waiting.

It is about three o'clock in the afternoon. Dinner will be at seven, and afterwards, Random and Corwin are holding a family meeting.

During the buffet, Garrett makes a point to speak with Solace. He tells her the same sort of things he told Florimel - that Lucas had always done right by him and that he will miss him. If she seems inclined to listen, he'll relate the story of how Lucas was so intent to get back to her and the children during the dragon attack that he scuffled with Garrett to reach the trumps. He tells her how Lucas promised to watch out for Garrett's family as well and that he followed through on that promise. Finally, he tells her that he wishes her to contact him if she or the children need anything.

At the end of the conversation, Garrett requests to take the children out for the afternoon to give them a break from the somberness of the day. If permitted to do so, he takes them to the stables, Phillippe on his shoulders, to watch Hope ride her pony. They play hide-and-seek in the gardens and follow the leader wherever Hope decides to lead. He holds Phillippe over his head to the toddler can fly like a bird.

Since coming to Xanadu, Garrett has discovered that he misses being a big brother. An afternoon with the children refreshes him as much as it pleases them. More importantly, Garrett believes that the best way to honor Lucas is to allow his children, on this saddest of days, to simply be children.

Brita has wanted to develop a fitting tribute for Lucas, but knows it has to be Big. After the funeral, she wanders through the Jardin du Palais spreading out before the Louvre. She is almost to the end of the vast park and gardens when she spots the perfect location -- a large, octagonal pond graces a prominent location at the far end of the long rectangle of green, fronting the main thoroughfare through the city. Brita sits down in the grass across from the pond and begins to sketch. After a couple of hours, she has come up with something she is pleased with that give the gist of what she is envisioning. She pens the following note to Corwin and attaches the sketch.

King-Uncle Corwin,
I Wished to Create a Fitting Tribute for my Cousin Lucas. I Have Developed this Fountain Design and Believe it would be Best Placed in the Jardin du Palais in the center of the Octagonal Pond assuming a Suitable Island could be Developed for it there. The other Option is to Place it Closer to the Palace on the Green Lawn just West of the Octagonal Pond. The White Marble Angel on top of the Central Pillar would have Cousin Lucas's Features, as it is a Memorial for Him. Is this Acceptable? I will Provide Funds, Of Course.

Brita

Brita has attached the following description and a sketch of the base/pedestal for the fountain.

The Fountain should be made out of Pink Marble. In the Center of the Circular Fountain Base will sit a Circular Pedestal with a tall Sloped Pillar rising 30 feet out of the Center. The Central Pillar will be flanked North and South by two large (10 feet Tall) White Marble Dragons - their Saurian Heads will be Raised Upwards and Wings Spread Back around the Pillar as if they are Trumpeting a Call before Launching Skyward. To the Right of each Large Dragon will be a smaller (2 feet Tall) Black Marble Dragon (similar to Cousin Robin's Fair). The Small Dragon will be holding a Pink Marble Koi Fish in one Clawed Hand as if it just Plucked it from the Fountain below. The Water Works will come from the Maws of the White Dragons and the Mouths of the two Koi Fish. Atop the Central Pillar will stand a White Marble Angel reaching Skyward with the Features of Cousin Lucas.

[I believe the GMs will post the sketch to the Wiki. It is based roughly off an existing fountain at the Louvre, La Fountaine du Chatelet (bottom of the web page)]