Brennan's visit to the palace and the light, regimental sized buffet for family is interrupted by a page bearing a note from Jerod. The script is neat and precisely written in flowing cursive.
Cousin...
There is a matter concerning my sister that requires some discussion amongst ourselves. I've arranged for a side-bar in the conservatory if you're still hungry.
Jerod.
Having much less personally at stake at this event than at Cambina's, Brennan sends word back with the page that he will join Jerod as soon as etiquette allows. Making sure that he pays respects to the appropriate parties (Flora, Solace, Hope, Philippe, Corwin, etc) Brennan does in fact enter the conservatory about as soon as reasonably possible; Brennan had no overwhelming desire to tarry at that event, anyway.
"Jerod," he says.
Jerod is standing looking out the window as Brennan enters, methodically working his way through a plate of seafood set upon a high pedestal. He turns slightly upon Brennan's approach and nods, pointing to a small box at the foot of the table.
"I believe those belong to you." he says. "None of them are live if you're concerned."
An examination of the box will reveal a number of sketches of Brennan, drawn in Cambina's hand. Most are at preliminary stages of development, though a few are very detailed. There are also a few others, sketches and detailed pictures of Cambina, most of which appear to be self-portraits.
Brennan does open the box, and examine the contents, handling with some care as he does all precious objects. "I-- thank you. I would have been more... surprised, than concerned, if they were live." He separates out the sketches of himself from the sketches of Cambina and puts the latter stack back in the box. "You have your own pictures of her?"
Jerod shakes his head, the lack of sleep from the past few days only vaguely niggling at him, the food helping maintain his energy levels. "She never gave me one." he says slowly. "I have some images of her, icons mostly that I did up after I met her. It's the preferred means of artistry below the waves. Paintings and water mix too well.
"I finished going through her things as part of my investigation. There are a couple of items that I do not recognize so I would hazard a guess that one or two might belong to you. If you wish to check, you are of course free to do so." he says, selecting a particularly tasty amuse-gueule from his plate.
"Your song was very good. She would have approved."
"Thank you," Brennan says. "She would have appreciated your playing, as well." He slides the box, still open, with Cambina's self-portraits in it. He gestures to Jerod to take one or a few, if he wishes. "I appreciate the thought. I'll take a look as soon as I'm able. They are here? Or..." Brennan leaves it to Jerod to state whether they might be in Xanadu or Amber.
Jerod's first instinct is to refuse. For all the times his sister made her independence a matter of public record, he knew she was private in her relationships and this extended even to the few possessions that she had. It has the feeling of wrongness about it to accept what she had not given him herself, an intrusion into a part of her life that she guarded well.
Jerod nods though, and picks one of the self-portraits, one of the simpler ones, in keeping with his own preferences of artistry. That he might think it wrong is his own perception, he realizes. Jerod trusted Cambina's choices when she lived even if he did not agree with them, and she trusted Brennan with something very precious. Jerod will respect that choice.
Brennan nods, places his own portraits back in the box, and closes the lid. He will take it with him when he leaves.
"Xanadu." [Jerod] says simply, rolling up the sketch.
For his part, Brennan looks emotionally worn out, moreso than physically. If anything, he looks older. If there is a separate plate, he will take some occasionally, more out of politeness than physical hunger.
There are sufficient plates and accessories, plus alcohol and beverages to cover them both, plus some spares in case of gate-crashers. Either Jerod came prepared, or the staff covered the bases well.
"There is another matter that came up that I wanted to put forward to you before I proceeded with it. I'll be speaking to the Queen concerning her involvement in all this, but while checking on Cambina's activities, I came across something." Jerod says, retrieving a folded note from his jacket pocket, handing it to Brennan.
The note is clearly written by Jerod. Along one side of the page are a set of book titles, covering a very specific set of topics. Along the top of the page are four names, with check marks cross-referencing between the books and the reader. The names are, in order, Cambina, Brennan, Ambrose, and Brand. To the side of the page are two more names, apparently written as side-notes with asterisks beside them - Fiona and Bleys.
"Cambina had a project on the go, concerning Tir. Your name came up. So did the other two on this list." Jerod says simply. He does not push or demand anything in his statement, but simply waits, knowing Brennan will answer in his own time and manner.
Brennan looks a long time at that note, a frown deepening his face. "Ambrose," he says. "In what way did my brother's name come up. And in what time frame." "During the course of the check into Cambina's activities, I learned of her research involving these texts." Jerod says. "I retrieved those that were in Nestor's possession and read them. There are still a few outstanding according to Nestor however. He indicates either you or Ambrose have the remaining copies. As for the time frame, that was not provided. Given that Ambrose has not been in the Family embrace for very long if he has been reading these volumes, it would have had to have been in a recent time frame.
"What do you know of these? And do you have any of them in your general possession."
"Some," Brennan says. "What I find interesting is that Ambrose had access to them. He came here, or to Amber's library? Himself?"
"I do not know." Jerod says. "I am not familiar with your brother's movements through the family holdings since I have been away in Rebma. Given that his name was mentioned directly, I would presume it was him personally. Several of the books in question are highly specialized. Nestor keeps them under lock for Family use only. Unless the good librarian has been seriously delinquent in his responsibilities, he would not have provided them to a servant. I will be checking the line of inquiry however, just to be sure.
"I will want to read the tomes you currently have in your possession. Some will no doubt be an interesting read, assuming they are in Thari.
"Beyond general speculation, what concerns do you possess with regards to your brother's reading of these books?"
"Concern might be too strong a word. I hadn't known he was making use of Amber's, or now Xanadu's, library. As Family, though, he's entitled," Brennan says. "You should have the good librarian clarify exactly what he means when he puts a check against a name and a book. Some of these, I've read. Some I've had recommended and not had a chance to get to. Some, I've even had anti-recommended.
"It's not unexpected that Ambrose would be interested in the same books, though. The same source that informed us that Ossian is my son-- a set of heavily encrypted writings made by Brand-- supposedly contains his notes on Tir-na Nog'th. Knowing what some of Brand's schemes were in the past, we considered it better to be pro-active and try to learn more, rather than sit back and wait to find out the hard way."
"That was Cambina's secret project then?" Jerod asks.
Brennan gives Jerod a strange look. "Your sister's interest in Tir was hardly a secret, Jerod. She was aware of the papers. I told her about them. If I thought forbidding her from going to Tir would have done any good, I'd have done it. I don't like the place. But we both know it wouldn't, and she was going to go there no matter what anyone thought. If I'd been able to go with her, I would have because she couldn't have stopped me, but the place stubbornly refused to appear when we were both in Xanadu.
"Have you understood Vialle's part in all this?"
"Vialle is not yet...available for my line of questions." Jerod says. "I have arranged a meeting upon return to Xanadu. I have collected enough unusual information that it will either be a very mundane interview that discounts other people's perspectives, or opens up a can of worms.
"I have a question for you. Could you determine if someone's perceptions were adjusted, or ensorcelled, to prevent them from seeing something or someone in their midst?"
That is apparently an easier question to ask than to answer, because Brennan thinks about it for long moments before answering. "There are too many ways to accomplish this sort of hiding to give you a straight answer. If I wanted to go unnoticed by you, I could do something to myself, or I could do something to you right now, or I could have done something to you last week that persists until next week," and it's clear that Brennan is using himself and Jerod as hypotheticals, not actuals with varying abilities in the Family gifts. "If the latter... possibly. Maybe even probably. If the former... unlikely."
Brennan pauses, but it's a pause as he's trying to give voice to his thoughts without sounding like Bleys. "Even then, it still depends on the 'something' that was done, who did it, and how well. I can think of several 'somethings' but I'm sure there are more. Easier to ask me to go to a place and tell you if there is something hidden, or if something was done.
"Who, where, and when?" Brennan asks. The why-do-you-ask should fall naturally out of that.
"First, the official version." Jerod says, collecting a bottle of scotch and pouring two glasses. If Brennan decides not to partake, Jerod will not be offended and he'll just drink the second one later.
"Cambina left the castle for a ride, alone. Castle stablehands reported this. She disappears later that day and is found dead the next morning, the queen disappeared," he says, taking a drink.
"Unofficial version, from the ex-boyfriend Nestor. He claims to have been watching Cambina and saw both the Queen and Cambina come from the stables. According to Nestor, the Queen was leading.
"Gilt says he had heard this story from Nestor and checked with the stable hands, who said they never saw the Queen."
Brennan takes the scotch as offered, and nurses it. He frowns slightly as Jerod gives the differing versions of the story, but nods. "That's one problem with doing something to the observers: it's sloppy, and very hard to know if you've accounted for all the observers. It's also possible that something was done to the Queen-- by herself or some other agency-- and that for some reason peculiar to Nestor, he was immune." Brennan shrugs. Stranger things have happened. "I don't see a motive, but for completeness' sake, Nestor could be lying, or could have been made to see something not there." Brennan obviously doesn't buy the last two, but they might spark something for Jerod.
"It's interesting, a Trump reading I had my son perform for me a few days ago put it in my mind also that Vialle may have been the moving force here, bring Cambina with her, instead of my first thought that Cambina brought Vialle. Question: Did Nestor see the Queen on or with a horse? If yes, have the stable hands accounted for this horse?"
"Nestor is an ex-boyfriend, so his story is automatically suspect, with everything being checked twice." Jerod says. "I have not yet taken the liberty of verifying the mount that the Queen was supposed to have used." Jerod says. "Logically, if two horses had gone out at the same time, the grooms would have noted the change in their appearance and tack, if used. However, given that Princes depart under unusual circumstances the variances in the horses appearance might not arouse suspicion. I was more interested in determining if the grooms themselves might have been affected. I will check the situation with the horse when I return."
Brennan gives a very thin smile at the mention of Nestor as ex-boyfriend.
"There is another possibility that might have arisen. There were previous issues in Amber with the stable hands, Rebman issues. I am not certain of all the details however. It is a topic for discussion with Martin.
"I am curious as to the content of this reading that occurred. I normally give little mind to the readings myself and do not undertake normally. What was the question that was asked."
"One other thing on the subject of mental tampering," Brennan says. "If what you're suggesting is Sorcery proper, I'm obligated to point out that such a thing would be rather difficult in Xanadu, as it would have been in the Amber of old. There may be a much more mundane explanation, such as, someone told the stable hands to forget.
"As for the Trump reading, the question was bitter-- what the hell did she think she was doing, going out with a blind spotter. In order: The Usurper, Brand reversed, the Fish; Vere, the Fool Reversed; Trickery." Brennan doesn't offer an interpretation, but waits for Jerod to offer one, fresh.
There is the barest flicker on Jerod's face as Brennan's intention becomes clear, but it is expressive in its brevity. As the brief shift in Jerod's facade reveals his normal level of disquiet when confronting anything to do with trumps becomes clear, Brennan will notice that disquiet immediately disappearing, hammered out of existence by a rage deeply buried, a staggering remorseless fury that crushes any lesser emotions that stand before it.
Then, it is gone, his expression returning to what one would call normalcy under other circumstances. An expression of calm and precision, a face so focused with rage that nothing else can appear to disturb its surface.
If Brennan notices any of this, then for reasons of his own he affects not to.
"Since you ran this in Xanadu, good luck figuring out the past component." Jerod says after a moment. "Random hides his faults well. I would suspect that the original Pattern's influence would certainly be there, but what it's flaws are, is open to interpretation. They are the foundation upon which we have our strengths, and our weaknesses if we recognize them."
"Brand's position as present would tend to make me think that his past influences, or his death curse, are having their impact. I wasn't there at the Edge though so unless someone can say if he managed to get one out, I'd have to say it's more likely the result of his cumulative behaviour, his focus on Tir, the damage to the Pattern.
"For the future, the past arises through the actions of present. I would hazard a guess it is something tied to Tir and that would mean the Moonriders and the Queen. That which is hidden and old can still be of import, even if long forgotten. All things return in the end. It is the easiest of the answers, though I might hazard as well that it could be something that preceded Tir...if we know what that might be.
"For Vere as a virtue, I am uncertain. I would apply him as characteristics for Cambina. He's young, focused, very disciplined and quite noble, with great potential, even if his discipline is sometimes lax with regards to his personal choices. This would fit with Cambina in several respects. She chose her path, set her goals and pursued them with diligence. She was brilliant and she was no one's fool, when she was focused and grounded. But that also fits with the Fool. Her connection to Tir might act as a barrier, disconnecting her from the traits that could make her powerful and give her a chance of survival in dangerous situations. Our connections to each may seem like a hindrance, but they can serve us well if we push too far along dangerous paths.
"For Trickery, there could be multiples, as always. The easiest is to say that Cambina fell to trickery in her pursuit of Tir. But it could also mean that we are the ones who may fall to a ruse, that someone may be using this episode to direct our attention towards Tir, away from other avenues and keep us from seeing something else."
"For what it's worth," Brennan says, "rightly or wrongly, I usually interpret the Usurper as some aspect of Chaos. Ossian and I had a bit of a discussion about that-- this might just be because, during much of the time I've been casting cards, the forces of Chaos have been on the move. Often literally, along the Black Road. And when nothing else fits, I tend to put a reversed card as an offsrping. And in this case, it had better not be my sister. Ossian suggested that the Fish might signify Vialle... which in turn sparked the notion of Vialle as actor rather than acted upon.
"I don't think either of us made much out of the virtue and flaw. And I read Trickery as fate to mean that whatever trickery is in play has yet to be resolved-- someone may yet see through it." And, Brennan doesn't add, the leading candidate for seeing through it is Jerod.
The leading candidate recognizes the position that he has chosen to occupy. Whether he is up to the task, remains to be seen.
"Oh. I was there. Brand found speech rather difficult to manage with Caine's arrow sticking out the back of his neck. But ask yourself this: Would that prevent you from delivering one? When I found myself with the wrath to give one, I had to master myself to restrain it," Brennan says.
"It's the focus, not the voice." Jerod agrees, collecting another drink.
"I was there on Kolvir, when they gathered around my father. Corwin was there, the others too. I got there just as they were finishing up. No one saw me until a few minutes later." he says, a long gulp of the scotch preceding a look into space. "I heard him, heard the words. The tone was quiet, like a bored serving wench collecting the bar bill. But the feeling...I felt it, in the air, in my bones."
Another drink. "I learned my last lesson from him then. I learned how to defeat my enemies, even if I died." and a last drink.
"I wonder what Cambina's last act was."
Brennan pours himself another, and looks for the answer in the glass. Doesn't find it. "I don't know, Jerod. I don't know." He drinks about half of it, then adds, "Grandfather didn't end with a Curse, though. He ended with a blessing. We saw it, all the way at the edge of everything. Maybe Daeon did, too."
An eyebrow goes up when Jerod hears about Oberon's last act. He remembered him only vaguely, an imposing figure that he never associated with the qualities of mercy or friendship. That Oberon would do such a thing is very surprising. Jerod logs that piece of information away, reminding himself to speak to Martin on this later.
He changes the topic, but only slightly. "I never had the chance to meet your father. Did you learn from him? Or did he teach you?" In Brennan's mind, there is a clear difference.
"Both." Jerod says, smiling slightly. "Dad...was dad. Everything had a lesson, even the simple stuff. I think he knew that life was not going to be fun for me. He didn't hide me like others did - people knew about me the day I was born so he would have known that I wasn't going to have anything approaching a normal childhood. But he didn't make things boring or regimented, at least, not if it wasn't required. He tended to view life as a bazaar of opportunities, and looked to direct me towards the ones that were most appropriate at the time, and the most beneficial to give me experience. I suppose that would only be natural given his own personality.
"He wanted what was best for me, even if I didn't agree. And he was always there when I really needed him. I think that would be the same for most parents with their kids." Jerod says, wondering about what kind of father Brand was, remembering his few times having met the man, his instinctive, almost visceral dislike for him.
"I would hazard a guess that memories of Brand are...not so pleasant?"
"That sounds like the sort of thing more appreciated as an adult than as a child," Brennan says. "I can see why you miss him. And, no. I have few, very few, good memories of Brand. Just enough to make them even worse than all the rest. He didn't teach me anything, but that didn't stop me from learning from him. There's a difference. I didn't like everything I learned, either. I learned to run away... once. I hated learning that. I forced myself to learn always to run toward something, never away. I liked learning that, learning that I could choose the lesson to take from a situation.
"Brand was more than one person. When I was a boy, I thought that literally," Brennan shrugs. "It wasn't true of course, and I learned that before I finally left, too. Ossian, though. Ossian seems to have all the good memories of him. My mother and my brother still miss him, too."
"The question arises as to what would have been different that they would remember something that you do not." Jerod says. "Or is that an avenue that is best left untouched?"
"It is an imponderable," Brennan says. "We all saw what we all saw. It is what it is.
"But there's something else I learned. From your sister. Something she taught me," he says, just the touch of an emphasis on the word. "Eventually, wounds can heal." Let this memory lighten grief.
"Good hunting, Prince Jerod," Brennan says.
"She taught me something else. That friends are few and far between." Jerod offers, extending his hand, palm slightly up. "I'd be honoured, to call you that."
For the first time in quite a while-- and certainly the first time this day-- Brennan smiles with some real warmth behind it, not just an attempt at social grace or deflection. "She'd be happy," Brennan says. "And I'd be proud to call you a friend."
Brennan extends his hand, as well, and either clasps Jerod's hand or wrist.
The clasp is returned and Jerod nods just as the clock to the far side of the conservatory begins to chime. "Time to be off." Jerod says. "I will see you later at the get-together. We'll find out what kind of trouble everyone else has been up to. Bottle of scotch says we've got the best trouble of the lot."
Brennan snorts, as he also rises to leave. "No bets on that. I'll see you there, but I have someone else to see before that happens."
Once Lucas's body has been interred and the family begins to head back to the palace Vere keeps an eye on Julian. He wants to be certain his Uncle does not drop out of sight before he has a chance to speak with him, and he knows Julian and Corwin are not on the best of terms. He makes certain that he knows where Julian is once everyone has gathered for the buffet. He attempts to quietly catch his Uncle's eye, not wanting to interrupt Julian if he has plans to speak with anyone else.
When Vere catches Julian's eye, Julian nods and waits for Vere to join him.
[Assuming he does]
Once Vere has done so, Julian greets him. "Vere. I had hoped to speak with you and Robin before I returned to Arden."
"Robin is still in Xanadu, Uncle," Vere replies. He glances at Corwin, then looks back at Julian. "I fear she is not yet up to coming to Paris. I hope you will have time to go to Xanadu to speak to her before returning to Arden?" While he does not phrase that hope as a question, he definitely ends it on a questioning note.
"I had expected to see her here to handle any matters that require my attention, since she has not contacted me to tell me otherwise," Julian says. "Did she send you in her place to advise me of the reasons for her absence? And does it have something to do with what I am advised is an impending duel between herself and Venesch?"
Vere shakes his head. "I do not understand the details of the reason for this duel," he says, "Other than that Robin did something to offend his honour. She must feel that he has some cause for his viewpoint, or she would have simply killed him or walked away and ignored him. I believe that this is part of her effort to fit in better with the family, and I applaud the intent." He frowns. "No, the reason she did not come to Paris has something to do with what happened to her on the Black Road. It appears that she has been talking with several people about this, she specifically mentioned Brennan, Garret, Venesch himself, and someone named Silhouette, and whatever she learned has led her to believe that there is 'a problem.' As you are aware, I believe, she has trouble speaking of the Black Road and what happened there, and I did not wish to press her. I learned nothing more." Vere tilts his head inquisitively and watches Julian as he says this.
It's amazing how Julian can manage to express his feelings with so little alteration to his facial expression and movement. "I know of Silhouette. With all due respect, the only person whose knowledge of the Black Road I would trust is Brennan, and that because he's had instruction from Fiona." He changes the subject slightly. "Robin feels she is safe in Xanadu, without any other initiates present, but not in Paris?"
Vere shrugs, and a slightly frustrated expression crossed his face for a moment, before his self control returns and he resumes his normal demeanour. "That was certainly the impression she left. I do not understand it. I suspect it has something to do with King Corwin, although that is merely a suspicion. By your leave, Uncle, once I have completed my efforts on behalf of my father, and he once again is hale and whole, I plan on travelling extensively with Robin, aiding her in her own duties, and seeking to learn what happened to her on the Black Road, and how it may be healed."
Julian seems not so much to disregard the moment of visible frustration as to choose not to embarrass Vere by noticing it. "If your own duties permit it, of course you have my leave. But I warn you, not because I dislike you or am angry or disappointed in you, that you will not have an easy time with what you wish to do. Robin has a good heart, but she has grown into her mother's willfulness. What one wishes to be true is not always correct, or right," he says, as if there's a measurable distance between the two concepts. "Ysabeau often had trouble distinguishing the two."
"Indeed," Vere says, without inflection. "I have come to suspect that my own disposition and upbringing have led me to depend overly much upon my duty to others and the code of honour of those around me, and not sufficiently upon my own innate 'heart,' as you say, to determine the rightness and correctness of my actions. Perhaps that is one of the reasons I feel that Robin and I are well matched; we can act as checks one for the other for these tendencies."
"I can only hope this is the case, for all that I never found it to be so with my sister." The thought softens Julian's expression slightly. "But I was her brother and a loyal son of our father, which certainly limited my sway with Ysabeau. Robin at least has taken her oath to Random to heart, even if she has not seen fit to appear at this family gathering."
"Ysabeau would appear to have been a very ... determined woman," Vere says. "And not given to a great deal of introspection, from what I can detemine."
"Not in my experience with her. Your father may say differently, but he got on better with her than ever I did. I performed my duty as a brother to her in her time of need, but after the business in the Isles, neither Ysabeau nor I felt a need to remain in close contact." Julian clearly expects Vere to be aware of whichever incident he refers to, as he provides no further explanation. "I don't know what men she chose to sire her children, but since it seems she remained with none of them much past the birth of her children, I don't imagine they had much influence on her. No one else ever did."
"I intend to see to it that Robin is different," Vere says firmly. He meets his uncle's eyes. "And I understand that it appears there may be good reasons for Robin to refrain from having children herself," he adds. "Although I do not understand the underlying reasons for this. Merely that the available evidence suggests it is inadvisable." There is an implied question in that statement, although Vere does not quite come out and ask it.
Julian frowns slightly. "I have no conclusive evidence."
There's a long pause, then he adds, "But if the hypothesis that has been bruited about is true, the business in the Isles will change things for good or ill." Then he moves to place his hand lightly on Vere's shoulder. "We shall hope for everyone's sake that any changes are what I hope for and not what I fear."
Vere is silent for a long moment, watching Julian without expression. Then he asks quietly, "Might I inquire as to precisely what changes you hope for and what changes you fear?"
Julian looks at Vere with something that might be pity. "If the damage to the Isles, and its likely imminent collapse, releases our kinswomen from any link to it, they might well recover from any illnesses related to that, or never suffer them. This is an outcome greatly to be desired. But if whatever tie binds someone to a shadow is not severed, and it collapses ...."
He does not complete the sentence, allowing Vere to draw his own conclusions.
Vere frowns. "I do not yet sufficiently understand the nature of shadows and our relationship to them," he says. "Nor do I understand if there is anything we could do to influence this situation."
"Sometimes there is nothing to be done about a situation, save waiting to see how it unfolds in the fullness of time." Julian withdraws his hand. "Even such as we cannot control everything."
Vere nods, thoughtfully. "Wait, watch, and prepare to act," he muses. "Consider all possibilites I can imagine, prepare plans for them, assume that I have failed to imagine everything, and be prepared to improvise." He smiles slightly. "As always."
Julian completes the thought. "And when you fail, you will learn something to use against your future hazards."
Vere nods once more. "Thank you, Uncle, for speaking with me," he says formally.
Brita wanders back into the palace and seeks out a page. There seem to be a lot more of them running about here in Paris. She asks if they have seen her Brother, Lord Conner.
The page directs Brita to one of the many salons that Corwin's residence contains. She can hear the sound of a flute playing slow and sad as she approaches. Conner is seated in an overstuffed chair with his eyes closed. It is indeed a flute he is playing instead of his usual whistle. If he notices Brita's arrival, he doesn't show it.
Brita creeps in quietly, trying not to disturb her brother. She finds a spot on the floor near the chair and sits down to listen.
The song lightens softly becoming contemplative with losing the edge of sadness.
After a few minutes, Conner comes to the end of the piece, lowers his flute and opens his eyes. "Hello, Brita." He smiles. "Did you enjoy the piece? The flute is a poor instrument for sorrow but I must make do with the skills I have."
Brita smiles softly, "Your Skills are Great, Brother, to be Able to make a Sprightly Instrument sing to the Tears in one's Heart. It was Lovely." She shifts slightly and gets to the point, "I have Come for Assistance. I am to be Shield Bearer for Cousin Robin in an Honor Duel with Captain Venesch. In order to Avoid the Duel, she must Offer an Apology for Dumping Uncle Huon on the Guard without Alerting them to his Power. Cousin Robin is not Well Versed in Words and I though Perhaps You - who Are - could Help us Craft this Apology?"
Conner's smile flattens out at the mention of Robin's name and his hand clenches around the flute. As Brita continues to explain, brings his free hand up to stroke his chin as he ponders this request. After a long moment, Conner asks, "Perhaps you could explain to me why, of all the people she wronged by her action that day, has Venesch been singled out for an apology?"
Brita cocks her head at the changes in Conner's tone but presses forward in explanation. "Captain Venesh Challenged Cousin Robin to an Honor Duel after she Prevented him from Killing the Captain of the Guard and brought Him before Prince Garrett." She draws breath as if she would continue and then pauses. She thinks for a bit and then redirects to "You Believe as Cousin Jerod. Uncle Huon's Loss was Cousin Robin's Fault." She bows her head and shrinks a little. "I'm Sorry, Brother. I have Failed the Family. I Lost Uncle Huon. And Uncle Pinabello's Death is My Fault. Cousin Meg was lost on My Watch. Dara Escaped Twice from Me. cleph...." Brita's face contorts briefly with a rage that is rare for her. She closes her eyes and breaths deeply. When her eyes open again, they are an icy green as she fights an internal anger. "Cousin Robin may have Made a Mistake, but she had a Reason - her Knowledge of the Arden Dragon."
Conner says nothing for a long moment. "Brita, I saw you at Heather Vale against Artemis, at the Coronation Ball against Cleph, and against the Green in the castle. You charge in to defend the family with such total zeal that you even lose yourself in the process. You devote everything you have to the task and continue fighting on even when over matched and the odds are bleak. There is no shame in that even in a loss."
Conner sighs. "In the matter of Huon, I would like to think I did the same. I rent a hole in the fabric of space that has not healed to stay in the fight with Huon. I stood there frustrated and helpless as he parried my every attack so effortlessly that I was not even capable to distract him so that Khela or Jerod could land a blow. I worked Pattern and Sorcery to the limits of my endurance to defeat his armies and then pushed past them to scry out where Huon had fled and alert those chasing him to his location and only then did I give in to my fatigue. So please understand my extreme displeasure when I heard that Robin had Huon bound and helpless and lost him.
"But that is not even the point, Brita." Conner continues. "When Daeon was lost after Heather Vale, I sought Robin out after the Coronation Ball and I spoke with her in the gardens. I apologized to her, Brita, for not being able to do more to save her brother and the flag I offered at Daeon's funeral was another. So far, she has not seen fit to offer me the same courtesy and that, that hurts me a great deal, sister." Conner says tightly.
Brita visibly softens in sympathy for her brother's pain. "Perhaps," she whispers as she reaches out to lay a hand on his knee. She shakes her head sadly, "Perhaps there are Misunderstandings on All Sides. You and Cousin Jerod See Only that Cousin Robin Misplaced Uncle Huon. Cousin Robin Feels she stashed one Menace so she could Focus on the Bigger Threat. Having Worked with Cousin Robin in the Rangers, I Know she Thinks with her Gut more than her Logic. She Also does Not deal Well with Ordered Things like Trumps. She Cleared the Field the fastest way she could so she could Assist in what she Considered the Real Battle." Brita shrugs with a half-hearted smile. "So Now, She must Offer an Apology - using Ordered Words - and in Public, so it is not Just to Captain Venesh. If You Do Not Wish to Help, that would be Understandable. I will Work with Cousin Robin to Express her Regret and Sorrow in Ordered Words for All Affected."
"I should let Robin go this alone, sister. She sought no advice before making her choice with between Huon and the Dragons." Conner places his hand over Brita's and squeezes it gently. "Yet just a day ago, Uncle Bleys advised me to be magnanimous and generous in family dealings. I will help you help Robin, Brita, because this is important to you and if Robin is truly wishing to make an attempt at peace with the family, I will help her too."
Brita is silent for a bit as she searches her brother's eyes. "She is Trying," she notes. "In the Battle, Decisions were made in Real Time, but she Is Sorry for the Outcome. She also Did Not Want a Valuable Asset of Former Reality Amber to be Lost which led to her Subsequent Actions." She sighs again. "We Should talk with Cousin Robin so you get Her View. She is still in Reality Xanadu."
Conner nods. "That is fair enough. I will not shun her for this especially since that very zeal against the Green is something I may require soon." Conner explains. "Have you been told of my agreement with Khela of Rebma?" He asks.
"You Mentioned Rebman Khela when we Spoke with Mother and Cousin Brennan. What Agreement?" Brita asks.
"When I first descended beneath the waves and traveled from Gateway towards Rebma, it was to accompany Celina on her quest. She had a vision of a green sword and it pulled her onward. I was investigating Smith Wayland and his blades and this seemed too good a lead to not follow. Besides, she and Merlin had just saved me from a sorcerous attack and I wished to repay that. Our journey did indeed lead us to the Pattern Blade of Rebma. We found it on Khela's hip and I learned that Khela was more the draw that the blade for Celina." Conner smirks.
"So that left me in the middle of a civil war with no real reason to stay there." Conner goes on. "I had no love for Moire but I had no real reason to support Khela other than Celina's testimonial. That brought me to the reason I came below the waves in the first place. I offered my services to Khela as a General and a Knight Protector in exchange for the Pattern Blade of Rebma. She agreed." Conner smiles and then sighs. "Now I prepare myself to deal with the bargain I made."
"A Sword. Like Sword Greyswandir and Blade Werewindle?" Brita's brow furrows. "This Bargain you struck with New Queen Khela, it will Take you From Here. Will it Secure Mirror Rebma's Fate?" She looks back at him and asks, "What is It Named?"
Conner simply nods to each question until the last one. "Cneve gave it the name Belagamon. It is my understanding that if the blade accepts me as its master, it is my right to name it once more. I do this sister both to protect Rebma and the rest of the Pattern realms. A Pattern blade should not lay idle."
Brita nods gravely, "A Pattern Blade Idle Would be a Pending Threat." She smiles suddenly, "Rebman Khela chose Well in Accepting You to Wield this Burden. You Will make a Solid Protection." Brita rises. "I should go. I have a Project to Work On - a Tribute to Cousin Lucas. You will return to Reality Xanadu with me to Speak to Cousin Robin before Embarking on your Duties?"
"Before or during." Conner nods. "I expect to be traveling between the realms much in the coming days." Conner rises as well and moves in to hug Brita. "Thank you for your words. I needed them this day."
The wattage on Brita's smile grows a bit brighter and she returns the hug with her typical fervor. "I'm Glad you will Not be in Mirror Rebma Always. I Hope to See you Often. We will Talk Again Soon."
Last modified: 23 May 2010