After his breakfast with Brita and Edan, Brennan finds most of his day free, and spends it looking through the Paris library that Corwin and Random had mentioned the night before. As always, his interests are far ranging, but in this case he's especially curious to see what pops up in the history section of a library whose city doesn't really have one. Are there histories of Paris? Histories of Rebma? Histories of the relations between Paris and Rebma? Or are some of those sections simply absent?
The library concentrates on the sciences (physical and social), and heavily on music. The history section is not so much absent as best represented in song and mythology. Tales of old Paris are apparently best set to music.
Most of the books appear to be recent acquisitions, and the librarians are shelving even as Brennan works through the books. The printing press has been invented, clearly, and there are many modern flourishes, but most of the bindings are leather and seem to be hand carved.
When Brennan asks about the histories, he finds that section has not been elaborated much yet, but they do hope to fill it out as scholars come to Paris at the King's invitation. Rebman works are difficult to obtain since the Rebman tradition is mostly oral, but the librarians hope to obtain copies of some of the books in the Amber library.
As for the matter of Rebman-Parisian relations, the library doesn't stock the broadsheets where that war seems to be fought these days.
After a day of wandering the stacks and indulging his curiosity, Brennan has a light evening meal, then seeks out Prince Martin. Given the topics they're likely to discuss, there's no need to discuss them over a meal and ruin anyone's otherwise pleasant dining experience.
A page is able to direct him to the quarters Martin has been assigned.
The door opens almost immediately upon Brennan's knock to an excited voice saying, "So did they actually have the---?" --and then Folly is standing there blinking up at him, having clearly been expecting someone else. But she quickly recovers and smiles warmly at him. "Brennan, please, come in."
She moves back from the doorway to let him in, revealing a sitting-room that is just as ornately and fussily decorated as the other guest rooms, but with two conspicuous blank spots on the walls where large framed paintings or other art might normally hang. "What can we do for you?" she asks, though Martin is not obviously present.
Brennan grins down at Folly, and though he can guess the outlines of the ending of her question, he doesn't bother to try and guess the specifics. Instead, he just bends down to kiss her on the cheek before coming inside.
"Hello, Folly," he says. "No grand agenda, I just came to touch base with you and Martin while we're all in the same place at the same time. I know there's a few things Martin will want to talk about. Figured the same might be true for you, all things considered."
"Ohhhh, yeah. Please, pull up a girly couch and make yourself comfortable." Folly moves to a couch herself and settles onto it. "Martin should be back shortly, hopefully bearing snacks. And then I think we'll all want to compare notes about that shitstorm you're about to wade into. Or whatever the Rebman equivalent of a shitstorm is."
"Folly," he says, "as bad as Rebma may turn out, I don't think it can get much worse than it's already been," with a suppressed shudder. "As bad, sure. Politically bad, yeah. Grappling with blood things..."
"Yeah," Folly agrees in a small voice. She goes a little pale just thinking about it.
Brennan's not too happy about the memory, either.
He runs a hand through his hair, and, failing to find a manly couch in the vicinity, pulls up a girly one and occupies it. "Still, forewarned is forearmed."
Folly nods. "Speaking of which, I had a long conversation yesterday with Celina, to forewarn her about a thing or two. It left me thinking that Khela doesn't really know what she's getting herself into, metaphysically speaking. And -- I'm sure you know more about these things than I do, but I keep wondering what it took for Moire to rule when she wasn't the original Pattern scribe, and who could have been that scribe for the Pattern to endure after Moins's --- oh!"
Folly blinks and looks at Brennan. "The Dragon. That the Tritons are sons of." Something in her expression says that this is a new thought, rather than a direct continuation of her previous line of thought. "She wants her babies back. If she really is a chaos-y sort of beast, she could have been the one colluding with Huon to... you know, break the Pattern.
"Er, would you like a drink?" she asks belatedly.
Brennan's grin is lopsided: "Yeah, it is going to be that kind of conversation, isn't it? Is coffee convenient? Perhaps with whiskey in it?" Or whiskey, with coffee in it.
Folly returns the grin. "I'll see what I can do." She rises and moves to a credenza that has clearly been set up for beverage preparation.
While Folly attends to that, Brennan turns over the Huon-Dragon connection in his mind, which he hadn't considered before. When he speaks, it's slowly, working the idea out loud, "Well, I know I can't be the only one who heard the description of that treaty and thought, 'Diplomatic Hostages.' It just makes sense it would want its offspring back-- to consume, if not for any reason with a human analogy.
"But to be good diplomatic hostages, the monarch would have to have some way to make good that threat-- the ability to execute some or all of them at any time, right? So trying that against Moire seems... dubious, unless we think Moire lacked that ability. And why try it against Khela at all, who seems bound and determined to give it exactly what it wants anyway?" Brennan asks.
"I'm not clear on the Rebman timeline, but perhaps at the time Huon sought out the Dragon's help -- or vice versa -- it wasn't yet clear that Khela was so close to making a successful move," Folly muses. "As for Moire's ability to eliminate the hostages--- well, if I understood last night's story-time correctly, the true threat to the Dragon came from Moins calling in, you know, the manly flaming swords of Amber, and all that. I don't know how much Huon knows or has been able to intuit about the current apparently weakened state of Amber, but somehow I can imagine him spinning an appropriately self-advantageous tale to the Dragon regardless." She shrugs a little. She's clearly still mulling over the possibilities and implications herself.
"Conceivable," Brennan says. "But one piece of the puzzle here is figuring out who he learned all these Blood of Amber tricks from. Do we have any reason to believe that the Dragon is a source of that information?"
"It's only speculation so far," Folly concedes, though something in her tone suggests that she's almost as comfortable with speculation as others might be with facts.
"You know what would help?" Brennan asks rhetorically-- "If I'd remembered to hint heavily that Bleys should tell someone where he stashed Huon in the first place, so someone could go investigate it." He is clearly displeased with himself that he forgot to bring that up.
"Good point," Folly agrees. "There may still be time for that, though, since I think he's still here." She pauses, and her nostrils flare minutely as she bites back a related but not relevant comment. She finishes with the steaming concoction she's been working on and brings it to Brennan in an Irish coffee glass, though it clearly lacks the usual layer of cream.
The coffee might not be quite up to Brennan's exacting standards, but Folly has been more than generous with the whiskey to make up for it.
"Did you see any tritons while you were in Rebma?" she asks as she hands over the mug. "I mean, closely enough to get a sense of how chaos-y they are. Or even how Arden-dragon-y."
Brennan smiles his gratitude at the coffee, sips, then answers. "I saw a small army of them," he says, "And a few up close enough to get a good look, if briefly. Verdict: Definitely descended of chaos. Knowing what we know, I'd say definitely Draconic. Tell me something, though, since you sat through the same Mandatory Fun I did-- Did you hear Corwin assume that the Arden dragons we fought, and the Tritons, are descended of the same Dragon?"
Before Folly can answer, there's a knock in a particular rhythmic tattoo on the main door of the suite, and then it pushes open and Martin looks in. He locates Folly almost immediately and instinctively, and Brennan a moment afterwards.
"Hey, Brennan. Folly, I brought something back, but they didn't have exactly what you asked for, so they made this other thing and we'll see if it'll do." Having determined that the room is safe, he pushes the door the rest of the way open and backs in, pulling a cart with a dome-covered dish on it. "They told me how to make it work, but I'm not sure I got it. But what's the worst thing that can happen? We set the Louvre on fire? I'm sure Aunt Flora would love a chance to rebuild the place."
Folly beams at him. "And we were just talking about dragons. Accidentally setting the place on fire seems thematically appropriate, don't you think?"
To Brennan, she says, "I've been thinking about what Benedict said -- about Cneve's loss being why there was a ban on combat with Arden's dragon. That certainly suggests that the two dragons are of a piece, at least figuratively if not literally. I think Corwin did leap, or assumed we'd all leapt, to the conclusion of common origin. I mean, it's easy enough to imagine a greater Dragon slithering up out of Chaos to investigate the sudden irritant of Order -- and then, finding several sources, splitting itself into littler dragons to keep separate eyes on each Pattern. I wonder if there's a sky dragon?" She has moved to the cart, and peeks under the dome to see what sort of culinary insanity Martin has managed to find for her.
Brennan rises to greet Martin, when Martin comes in, and eyes the food cart with some trepidation. He's got his coffee, and ate recently, so he can maintain a safe distance without temptation.
To Martin, he says, "The topic for the moment is Dragons," he pronounces the capital letter, "by way of the mess in Rebma." Then, to Folly, "I don't even want to think about the possibility of a Sky Dragon. But maybe I was hearing Corwin wrong-- I thought he was saying that the one in Arden and the one in Nedra were the same entity, which doesn't track with anything I've heard or learned anywhere else. Related, yes, I could see that, although it would be... curious. My understanding is that the one in Arden is-- was-- effectively caught, or stuck, by the creation of Amber's Pattern."
Martin pulls the dome off, revealing a towering meringue pastry thing of some sort with a bowl of some mixed berries and a small crystal decanter that smells of brandy when it's uncapped.
"I have no opinion on what Corwin thinks, but I have opinions about the Rebman mess and Cneve and the Rebman Dragon. I did a lot of research into that war because of Cneve. Cneve was, even if he was long-dead, my cousin, and I wanted to know whether he'd walked the Pattern and lived. That was the first bit of family history I got into--the interregnum stuff came later," he adds for Folly's benefit.
"I don't think the Rebman dragon can be the same. We know the Arcadian dragon has offspring that can breed true with Amberites. Tritons don't reproduce sexually. I don't think they reproduce at all--I think the dragon does. That makes it much closer to something Chaotic." Martin frowns, deciding how best to follow whatever instructions he'd been given, and proceeds to pour a little brandy on the bombe. Then he strikes a match and lights the brandy, adding a second dollop to get the flames going before looking at Folly.
Folly grins approvingly at the rising flames, though she has taken a cautious half-step back and armed herself with a carafe of water in case it all goes horribly wrong. "But I thought the children of the Arden dragon were the way they are because they were also the children of... wossname. You know. With the giant beastie fetish."
"Finndo," Brennan supplies, eying the confection. A bit too sweet for his palate. "And I'm sure I'd love to hear the full story on that one-- I'm sure there's more than meets the eye." Although, by his tone, he seems to expect that he'd find the details less than palatable.
"Still, I'm with Martin on this one, although for different reasons. I've heard too many references from people I'd expect to know, that they're different creatures. And the Tritons, to my eyes, just didn't seem Ardenic." Brennan shrugs. "If I had longer to examine one, I'd be more confident in that eyeball assessment."
Looking at Martin, he asks, "So, did I get the gist of that 'treaty' Vere mentioned correct? Glorified diplomatic hostages?"
There's a moment of silence while Martin waits for the flames to run out of brandy. Then he starts cutting up the dessert, offering the first piece to Folly. "I would've said 'yes' if you'd asked me before I went to Chaos. Now I'd say it's a binding on external bits of the Mother of Tritons, because I'm not convinced they're all entirely separate beings. Looks to me like Moins affinated some part of the Dragon through a binding involving the blade. Which," he says, handing Folly her plate, "makes her a sorceress with power on the order of our grandfather."
"Close enough for government work," Brennan says, with a wolfish smile. "And it raises a whole host of questions. Some are academic: Why didn't Oberon do the same to the one in Arden? What was Cneve's part in all this? What happens to the Triton essence when one is killed?
"Some are a little more pressing: What happens if Khela frees the things? That's where my diplomatic hostage analogy comes in-- seems to me, if they're freed, they revert back to being remote units of the Nedran Dragon, not unlike the corrupted Green entities in Arden. Or they just revert back to being part of the Dragon and are consumed in its strength. And just as pressing: Whatever we think is going to happen... what does Khela think is going to happen?" Brennan asks.
Folly, heartily enjoying her dessert, looks to Martin to make the first stab at answering that question. Of all of them, he's likely to have the most insight. Or at least the most background knowledge.
"That's assuming that even with the sword and the jewel--if Khela even has the jewel--that she can undo the bindings, which I consider a big if. What Khela thought, a hundred and fifty years ago, was that the Tritons would build a peaceful society that would stand as an example to Rebma. It was what we all thought, with some variation, based on their philosophy. Now I see things a little differently: their philosophy looks like how they cope with being slaves. That doesn't mean they won't revert, or simply be destroyed for the alienness they've taken on, if Khela succeeds in letting them go.
"They think Celina's the key."
Martin cuts another piece of the bombe and offers it to Brennan. "It won't keep, I don't think," he says, which could be directed at either Brennan or Folly, or perhaps both.
Too sweet for his palate or not, Brennan takes the offered dessert and nibbles politely-- he was right, more sweet than he cares for, but better than he'd thought. When he looks up, there's a "W---" question forming on his lips, but...
"Khela has the sword. Moire has the jewel, I'd be willing to bet, based on some things Celina said. Celina has the Pattern. It could be that the only way they can make anything stick is to join together. Like some sort of, you know... mecha-Moins." Folly waves her fork around in vague imitation of a robot-sword before digging into her dessert again.
"What is the triton philosophy?" she adds after a moment.
...But Folly has either answered or asked Brennan's question for him. He looks at Martin for the answer, and takes another less tentative bite.
Martin finishes cutting a third piece of bombe, and takes a seat next to Folly. Taking a bite of the bombe, he clearly finds it too sweet, too, because he concentrates on the berries after that.
"Nothing you haven't heard before if you kick around Shadow enough, for all that it seemed like a revelation when I was a sheltered lad of a hundred or so. Peaceful warrior, great power and great responsibility, and so on and so forth. Combine that with religious ideals of martyrdom and how to suffer slavery nobly and well--which the Rebmans weren't into since we weren't slaves ourselves, plus it seemed disrespectful--and you've got a real coping mechanism for a shit way of life. I got interested in it because my Triton was something of a parent to me and I thought the world of him. Still do, even as I realistically wonder whether unbinding him, which is only just, would kill him or deprive him of what free will he has." He says these cold things phlegmatically; either there's a tight rein on his emotions or he's just not feeling it right now.
"And yes, Moire has to have the jewel. She's not an idiot, even if it seems like she's one at times." Now Martin sighs. "She's also got the key to the Pattern chamber, according to Conner."
Whatever Brennan thinks about the Triton philosophy, and the intersection of universal justice and practical metaphysics, he keeps them to himself for the time being. "Okay, so. Given all that, and given a few more things-- given Khela here seeking access to a Pattern, given growing suspicion that something is up with Rebma's, given Khela probably still wants to undo whatever binding Moins worked. What are your thoughts on Khela's goals and how generally to deal with her?"
Brennan spreads his fingers, and adds, "I'm not asking you to speak for the King, unless you know you can. Just informed opinion from people I respect." He shakes his heads slightly, gives a small smile, and adds, "It would help if I could figure out if she reminds me of Celina, or if Celina reminds me of her."
"I haven't met Khela yet, so I can't speak to that last," Folly says, "but based on what I've learned about her I already have decided opinions on her goals: namely, that they're ill-conceived, and she's approaching them blindly. So far how I've been dealing with that is by planting ideas in Celina's head, with the expectation that she'll carry them to Khela with an appropriate amount of force." She sets aside her plate so she can count off on her fingers: "That Khela should talk to the king -- either one, but I recommended Random -- about her chances on the Pattern; that Amber became untenable as a Pattern realm with the death of the Pattern scribe; that if the Rebman jewel works like the Amber one, that unlocking its full power might necessitate drawing a new Pattern."
She pauses, frowning, and adds, "Celina thinks there's a possibility Moire ate Moins. In the Chaosian sense."
Martin shakes his head, once, decisively and negatively. "No. Not possible. Not successfully, anyhow. It makes no sense."
"It seemed improbable to me, too," Folly agrees. "But then the next logical conclusion is that whoever drew the Rebman pattern must still be out there somewhere, alive. Or else the Rebman pattern is fundamentally different from Amber's." She gestures at Brennan in an 'as we were just talking about' sort of way, never mind that that topic had got abruptly sidelined by her own speculations about the dragon.
"Well, some fundamental assumption in there is wrong," Brennan says. "I don't believe for a minute that Moire ate moins in the way Celina is suggesting. It would be like someone claiming that Eric ate Oberon, back in the interregnum, if the comparison between Oberon and Moins is correct. It's almost incomprehensible. Why Rebma's Pattern survived Moins' death, that I can't say. Moins was well before my time, so I'm willing to speculate she's not really dead. I'm willing to speculate that Amber's fall was caused by something other than Oberon's death. I'm willing to speculate that the Patterns are simply different. But I'd bet it's important, and I hope to find out."
Brennan takes another mouthful of sugar, which turns out not to be overpowering when balanced against the coffee. "How about it, Martin: Any advice, with Khela?"
"Yeah, I've got some. Don't bullshit her. She doesn't take that any better than I do," Martin says flatly.
Brennan takes the rebuke stoically, a feat made easier by the fact that he's got the coffee mug halfway to his lips when Martin speaks. It gives him an extra half moment to think. Some but not all of that is probably the result of Brennan's phrasing, which he can at least fix. The rest, he'll figure out later.
"Well then," Brennan says. "Here is my no BS take for the day: I'm going down there, one way or another. Not because I have some overwhelming desire to meddle in Rebman politics, but because enough strange things have happened recent to give me worries about its Pattern. I shouldn't take that personally, but I do. I have no opinion right now on whether the Triton issue convolves around the Pattern issue, much less how. I'm hoping the answer is 'not connected at all.' I do know Khela doesn't have the Jewel, which is a whole other dose of scary development.
"But while I'm there," he continues, "I can at least try not to make headaches for the Court of Xanadu or its members." Which is a task made easier if Brennan knows what headaches are on peoples' minds.
About halfway through the speech, Brennan is pretty sure he's lost Martin completely. "If you think there's any way you can separate metaphysics and politics in Rebma, you're not going to be able to make use of any guidance I have to offer."
Brennan shrugs slightly enough that it's hard to tell if it really happened. "We all have idle hopes," he says. But knowing that this topic is closed, he'll let someone else pick another one.
"Even if you don't plan to meddle, what are your hopes for how the situation in Rebma resolves itself?" Folly asks. Her tone is calm, soothing. "Beyond trying to make sure that a problematic Pattern doesn't unduly damage the fabric of reality or unleash formerly-bound enemies of the realm, that is."
Martin busies himself with his too-sweet dessert and lets his wife carry the conversation for a while.
Brennan gives Folly a wry smile, and tries to frame an answer that boils it down to the essence: "I'd like the situation to resolve such that Rebma's Monarch is equipped and motivated to do those things. Seems like everyone this side of the Tree is better off, that way. The problem is, the better equipped Khela is to protect the Pattern and such, the better equipped she is to unbind potential enemies of the Realm. The better equipped Moire is to do those things, the better equipped she is to put the place through another war. I can't see a good path to what's best, here."
"I know," Folly agrees ruefully, and sets aside her empty plate. "It's really too bad the whole situation is all wrapped up in metaphysics. As you probably know--- As you'd certainly know if you'd had to put up with me during the Regency---" she smiles and lays a hand lightly on Martin's shoulder "---I'm generally in favor of freeing the oppressed and empowering the downtrodden, and all that. And also, I think Moire is kind of... you know, a righteous bitch. But." She gives a little shrug, letting Brennan fill in that 'but' for himself.
She frowns thoughtfully for a moment, and then adds, "I wonder what it would take to get the two of them actually working together for the good of Rebma? This family has finally managed an uneasy sort of peace, after all. Although speaking of which...." She fixes Brennan with a level look, though her tone is gentle. "I suppose I don't have to warn you not to become the common enemy against which they band together. Even if you think you're right and they're wrong."
"No," Brennan says at some length, "That is not my intent."
He pauses just enough to signify a shift back to the surface conversation. "And in this case, it's the wrong answer in general. They failed to unite against a serious invasion force. So if they can't be united against a common threat, perhaps behind a common love? I don't know Moire at all, so that may be a wrong answer as well. But in that context, Celina springs to mind."
"And here's where I'm afraid my own prejudices may get the better of me: I have a hard time imagining that 'love' is anywhere near the top of the list of things that motivate Moire." Folly flashes a tight smile. "Still, it is something to consider. But I don't envy Celina in any of this."
"It's a shot in the dark, is what it is," Brennan says. "And no, I don't envy Celina. If your opinion of Moire is correct, Moire would agree only if she thinks she can dominate Celina or otherwise turn the situation to her advantage. Not to mention, someone would have to go find her."
The last comment seems to be enough to get Martin's attention. Or maybe he's just finished the slice of the bombe.
"She's around here somewhere. If Grandmother hasn't taken the Pattern herself, and doesn't have an initiate with her, she's by definition limited in the number of places she can go, right? My understand is you can't go somewhere you don't know where is," he adds by way of explanation.
"...which is why we're being extra-careful," Folly adds, nodding to the conspicuously blank spots on the sitting-room walls. "I mean, I did sort of promise I'd visit her, although that was supposed to be later. After I was done being pregnant."
Brennan looks up at the blank spots on the wall again, and nods, once. He'd already seen and noted them.
"Maybe I'm too paranoid. Even if she has gotten her hands on some place-Trumps," Brennan gestures to indicate it's just a convenient example, "she's still not that mobile, and won't go anywhere she can't get back to Rebma from. In which light, yeah, she'll be heard from again sooner rather than later."
"Yes, I'm anxious to be out of Paris before that happens," Folly says, wrinkling her nose, "although I think I've got a thing or two to discuss with Corwin first...."
She brightens suddenly, as if struck by a new thought. "Brennan, I've heard some of the family talk about describing the Pattern -- or Patterns, and how they interact with each other, maybe -- in terms of maths. Do you know how to do that?"
"Some," Brennan says, after a bit of a mental inventory. "My understanding is more in terms of how the Patterns interact with and define Shadows and the local laws, than how Patterns interact with Patterns." He grimaces, obviously not pleased with a gap in his education, no matter how esoteric. "Why? What's your thought?"
Folly stares into space for a long moment, her face scrunched up in thought as she searches for the right way to explain herself. Finally she says, "Have you ever stepped into a room and immediately realized you've left a load of laundry in the dryer because there's stuff missing and it sounds wrong? I'm wondering if it's possible to use maths to do something similar: if you can work out what Rebma should sound like -- or feel like, or whatever -- could it help you notice if something was wrong? Or even better, work backwards to figure out what's missing, or out of place?" She shrugs minutely. "Also, as you can probably tell by the question, I know almost nothing about how one would go about working out something like that -- but I'd like to know more."
Brennan has to think about that, both from first principles, and to think back over a few older conversations.
"Yes, I think so, at least part of that. Dworkin has made offhand comparisons between the Patterns and a musical scale, now that I think about it, and Bleys has used technical language that goes in the same direction," Brennan says. After another moment of thought, he adds, "I can't write down a just-so treatise, among other reasons because I don't think of it in those terms very often. But I can at least write down what I do know, and leave it for you in Xanadu, and we can talk about it when we have more time." Because that doesn't sound like a five minute conversation.
Folly nods as Brennan mentions the comparison between Patterns and scales, as if she has heard or worked out something similar. "If you're willing, I would appreciate it very much," she says, with the earnestness of an eager pupil.
"Not a problem," Brennan says.
"But now that I am thinking about it," he says, "if you compare two of them, there should be a sort of a..." Brennan gestures, trying to conjure the right term, and ultimately comes up with two, "a binaural beat, or an overtone I guess, that might let someone get a better handle on things, unless they're completely identical. Amber's would have been the best to use, but obviously that's out. Would work best with people in multiple locations, though. I think." Brennan's wearing that frown that implies he's just been given a lot to think over, which would be fun if it weren't critically important.
"What about the veils?" Martin asks.
Brennan thinks about that, but isn't sure how Martin means it. "In what sense?" he asks. "As the overtones or interactions? Or as a different way of diagnosing problems?" Or something else entirely, of course. It seems like Brennan might have more to say either way, but doesn't want to ramble on trying to cover all the possibilities.
"I mean when I walked the Rebman Pattern, it had three veils, and the Paris Pattern has four, according to Merlin who walked it, and the Xanadu Pattern has four too." Martin looks to Folly to confirm this point. "You've been in the Rebman Pattern chamber more recently than I have. Does it have four now? And what difference does it make, either way?"
"Tir's had three when I walked that one, but that was a long time ago," Brennan says adding to the general store of knowledge about what Pattern had how many Veils, and when.
"I might," and Brennan's tone makes it clear that he's really not certain about this, "be able to tell without walking, if I had some time to spend and try a few things. I intend to do just that when I'm there. But last time, I had enough time to tell that it still seemed active before I was attacked." It would be clear to a stone that Brennan does not at all enjoy the memory of that episode.
"But going out on a limb, here's what I think: I think it will have four. I had always thought of it as one Veil for each stop around the Faiella-Bionin, which is nice on the surface, but has some annoying questions I've never been able to answer. Are they in order? What order? Does the first one always correspond to Rebma, say? Since Folly started us talking in musical terms, and you asked about the Veils, though... they could be something akin to these supposed overtones. Paris resonating against Xanadu, Rebma, and Tir-na Nog'th would give it three; the Final would either be a resonance with the Primal, or perhaps a self-resonance," Brennan isn't sure, and from his expression, he has some qualms about either interpretation.
"What good does that do us? Not sure," Brennan says. "If I knew I was right about any of those interpretations, we'd see a completely failed Pattern as a missing Veil... but I'd expect Corwin and your father to know about that instantly."
"And didn't Merlin walk the Paris pattern before your father's coronation?" Folly asks Martin. "Which means he walked before there was a Xanadu pattern to resonate against, but after Amber's had stopped working. Which ought to have given the same number of working patterns as before the Sundering."
She chews her lip thoughtfully. "I've been wondering if the veils are somehow generational: the ones drawn by Oberon's children have four veils, the ones drawn by Dworkin's have three. Working backwards, one might expect two for the Primal and one for the Jewel -- as if the Mystical Shit, if I may use the technical term, that allows us to draw Patterns in the first place gets diluted with each successive generation, thereby making our Patterns harder to walk."
For Brennan's benefit, she adds, "I don't know for certain that the patterns in Tir and Rebma were drawn by Dworkin's children, by the way, but when I was off in the desert getting Trump lessons I did ask him whether he and the Unicorn had other children, and he said yes. So right now that's my default assumption."
Martin shrugs. "Could be. I don't plan on writing one to test the theory, thanks." He points a finger at Folly, leaving the associated injunction unspoken.
Folly smirks and holds up her hands in acquiescence.
"That would be extravagent," Brennan agrees. "Also, impractical. Asking Merlin, though, that might be workable. Still," he says, coming back from the theory level to the practical, "I'm not sure how it helps us."
Folly shrugs. "It's another piece of the puzzle to keep in mind, even if it takes quite some time to see where and how it fits. But we've got plenty to poke at in the meantime. Here's hoping it turns up some useful answers."
Brennan gives that wry quirk of his mouth that substitutes for a smile. "Knowledge is always good," he agrees. "It may be of some use only after we understand it."
Brennan stays and talks a bit longer out of politeness, but eventually excuses himself to go meet with Brita and make the transfer over to Xanadu. As he's leaving, he remembers something, and turns back to them: "It's overly dramatic to make the you-know-you-can-call-me-at-need speech, so I won't do that. But in this climate, after Lucas, this much needs to be said: Since you've been studying with Dworkin, you may of course make a Trump of me if you deem it wise or necessary."
"Thank you," Folly says humbly.
Vere tracks Avis down. First, he checks to make certain that she knows their mother is in Paris. He doesn't want to assume that they've already had a chance to talk, although he believes the odds are highly in favour of it.
Then he wants to check on the progress of settling the refugees, and see if there have been any unexpected problems. He'll explain that he is leaving Paris early the next morning, and does not know when he may return. He'll be happy to answer any questions she might have, about Paris, Corwin, the Royal Family of Amber in general, or anything else upon which she might lack information she needs in aiding her in settling in to Paris.
She's glad that mother is doing well, and that she is nearby, but she asks Vere not to discuss the matter in public, because the peace is built on her absence. The men the King has out this far from his capital effectively rule for him, and have done so for generations. They seem happy to have newcomers, although they intend to use the people as a buffer against enemies and because there are not enough men to labor here making the province rich. Not everyone is sure they will continue to be well-treated here.
Vere assures her that he won't mention their mother's presence to anyone else, and that she is planning to leave Paris with his father soon. He also assures her that he plans on checking back on their people from time to time, for several generations, and he will intercede if he sees any signs of unfair treatment.
He inquires, carefully, if the current situation has led her to reconsider the possibility that she might be able to wed to suit her heart, rather than for merely political considerations.
She smiles and tells him that no matter what, he'll always be, at heart, her impractical romantic little brother.
He grins, and does not press the matter.
He'll ask how King Bran, the Witch Queens, and their people are handling things.
King Bran's people are doing quite well, being the most familiar with the ways of inland city people. The Witch Queens are in discussions with the Kings Foresters about areas they might wish to live in, and the people are looking to the coast, where their skill as sailors can be an asset. Others wish to press westward, with the Witch Queens, into the deeper forests.
The Goddess is pleased.
Excellent well. Vere is gratified that things have fallen out so well. He wishes his sister well, and hopes to see her again soon.
If she hasn't anything else, then that concludes his business with her.
Surprisingly, she doesn't. Vere gets the impression that Paris seems distant and unimportant from here.
Vere is very pleased at this. Something seems to be working out.
After he leaves his sister he wants to stop by and see the Chancellor before returning to Paris. Assuming she is available, he asks how things seem to be going to her, will listen to any concerns she has, and answer any questions she might have about Paris and Corwin (if perhaps not as fully as he answered Avis). And then he will bring up the matter of the ocarina that was among the items confiscated from the Lady Robin when she had been taken prisoner in the Isles. Does the Chancellor know what happened to it?
She remembers the whistle, but doesn't know where it is. She doesn't remember if it made it out of Mothersport. If not, then the Lady has it, otherwise she put in the safekeeping of the abbess of the temple college.
Vere will thank her for that information, chat briefly about how everyone is settling in, and then bid her farewell.
His last action before returning to Paris will be to check in with Siege, to inform him that he will be leaving and doesn't know how long it will be before he returns, and to see if there are any questions Siege may have, or any last minute aid Vere can give him.
Siege looks... not worried, but harried. Hartwell is with him, and seems happy enough. They are looking at maps of the river delta and are discussing where a permanent settlement might fit.
Vere will be happy to look over the maps with them and offer suggestions, though he is very careful to make certain that they don't sound like orders. He'll ask whether King Corwin has spoken with them yet about using the Brotherhood as rangers of the forest for the defense of Paris and its surrounding areas.
Siege is inclined towards [Vere's suggested] positions, although Hartwell wants to scout those locations first.
Vere completely agrees with Hartwell, do not make any plans until the areas have been thoroughly scouted.
They haven't heard from the King, but local nobles are interested, and are offering land in exchange for security.
It's not 100% clear that they're offering their land, though...
Vere will chuckle and counsel a great deal of care. They don't want to get pulled into the middle of legal quarrels between nobles, and Vere doesn't know all the ins and outs of Parisian law. He suggests that they seek the advice of the King's advisor and confidant, Bill Roth.
Hartwell thanks him and says that "they" will follow his advice.
Last modified: 26 September 2010