After they've made their way back to the palace after Lucas's funeral, Folly and Martin partake of the family buffet. They've found a quiet corner, and their posture does not particularly invite company: they sit very close together, holding hands with fingers tightly entwined, occasionally exchanging low-voiced conversation between bites of light fare. They both seem a bit wrung-out.
Celina is moving about the buffet, finding herself slipping between the currents of the Aunt That Has Arranged Everything and the palace Chatelaine. She isn't really needed for any of this after all, so she is content to play a minor part in the dance.
Her mood is not nearly as melancholy as she expected. There wasn't a personal vibration to the event as there had been for Cambina's funeral. It was a relief and so she felt light on her feet. The steps of the dance came easily. A smile, a gesture of help, pointing out a particular treat or beverage for some of the familiar faces she's met.
Studying the family that she has not met.
When Folly catches sight of Celina across the room, her face lights up. She gestures her cousin over and stands to greet her with sororal warmth.
Celina almost breaks protocol, weaving across the room in response to Folly's summons, she arrives and nearly completes an embrace before she recognizes something in Folly's stance that says this will not do in elaborate gowns.
The elaborate mourning attire does make embracing difficult, so Folly settles for clasping Celina's hands and kissing her cheeks. "Cousin! It's wonderful to see you! We have much to catch up on," she exclaims, then adds in a much lower voice, with sparkling eyes, "Do you suppose we could slip away for that soak now? Or do your duties call you elsewhere?"
"No, they do not call me. It has been too long and I am not hungry for food. Water is better," Celina responds in a low tone, her voice husky with affection. She grins at Martin, wondering a bit at his aspect of tiredness. She supposes that he may have been closer to Lucas than many here. Celina nods to him, "I'm glad to see you both so at ease. May I rob you of my cousin? Just for an hour or so?"
Celina squeezes Folly's hand, not having let go of her clasp yet. It is not so strange for Rebma, but very odd for Paris. They are not really sisters after all, and barely can claim to be fond cousins after so little time with each other.
Martin, who came to his feet when Folly did, nods once. "I expect a full report on Corwin's bathing facilities afterwards." He kisses his wife on the cheek. "Meet you back at our room when it's time to get out of the monkey suit?" As one of the pallbearers, Martin has had to be perfectly pressed today, and it seems to be one of the things weighing on his shoulders from the face he makes at the last two words.
Celina smiles.
Folly nods her agreement. "Debriefing followed by debriefing," she says with a mischievous twinkle. "I can get behind that plan." She stands on her toes to kiss her husband's cheek and whisper a few words to him; they are too low to be decipherable to Celina, but the underlying murmured tone suggests warmth and comfort.
Folly is apparently indifferent to the formality of Paris's social customs, for she, too, has kept hold of one of Celina's hands. "Shall we?" she asks her cousin brightly.
"Oh yes," Celina flutters her fingers in a 'farewell for now' dance at Martin. She then steers Folly away in a lazy promenade that involves some delicate geometry to not bump hips together.
Through the palace, Celina maneuvers with a steady sashay. She calls out the names of hallways and milestones to Folly as they pass through corridors and fanciful rooms. It seems much of Corwin's palace has 'named and numbered' locations. "The servants are very helpful getting oriented," Celina adds still holding Folly's hand.
Folly drinks it all in in wonderment, ooohing and aaaahing at appropriate moments. "It's all quite beautiful, in its own structured way, isn't it?" she opines. Though it's meant genuinely, Celina can probably hear the subtext: nice to visit, but for someone whose tastes run to the freeform, not really a preferred place -- or way -- to live.
They arrive at a tub that fills most of a room under a series of narrow windows that show clouds and trees beyond. The windows start at about shoulder height and soar up to the arched white marble ceiling three meters above. Celina does let go of Folly to cross and spin the twin gold dolphins that send hot and cold waters shooting into the snow marble tub from six directions.
"This is my favorite room so far. They call it the Nemo Baths but I have not asked why." Celina starts to undress. "When is the baby due?"
"Not long after Solstice, if I stay in places where time runs roughly the same as Xanadu," Folly replies with a grin. "So... fourteen weeks, maybe?" She starts in on the buttons and buttons and buttons down the front of her loaned, Paris-appropriate attire. "Sometimes I think it can't come quickly enough -- I long to hold my daughter, and have her meet her father properly -- but... mostly I want to savor the intervening days. Carrying another life inside you, feeling it grow, learning its rhythms--- It's the most amazing thing. And I know this is likely to be my only chance." There is a deep wistfulness in her voice at that last.
Celina pauses a moment at that last, then lays all of her clothes on the bench. She moves to the tub and tests the waters accumulating.
"You know," she adds after a moment, "'Nemo' is 'Omen' spelled backwards. I wonder if that signifies? Are there portents reflected here, d'you think? Or perhaps one is meant to reflect on them here. Although I wouldn't have pegged your father as the right kind of clever-poetical sort to have named it thus."
"Father likes being opaque, but not like poetry," Celina says and steps into the tub. There is a seat within along the edge, but she steps again into the deeper water and fully goes under. When she slides upward again, she's smiling now and water dances on her eyelashes.
Celina uses her palms and dashes water upward against her face several times until it is cascading over her head and shoulders and frothing the pool. Then she shakes most of it off. "Thank you for ...taking time to talk. Following Martin's advice has been hard but I realize hiding in shadow will never work well. On the other hand, not much seems to harmonize and I don't know where I must do better." She starts rubbing her wet palms up and down her arms. She visibly relaxes the more she interacts with the water.
Celina looks earnestly at Folly. "I am doing better though."
Folly smiles to see her cousin relax. She herself has finally made it out of her complicated gown and high button-up shoes. She piles the lot of it on the bench, wriggles her bare toes against the tile, and takes a cautious step into the water. "I can only imagine how challengingly complex these last weeks have been for you, with all that has happened. Tell me about the worst disharmonies you've had to face, and how you've dealt with them so far." She eases herself onto the seat at the edge of the tub so that she is not fully submerged, but has time to acclimate. She smiles at Celina. "And tell me about the new Queen of Rebma."
Celina sighs and slides down into the water to find neutral buoyancy. "When I was growing up, I was the 'good family girl'; the girl with purpose and future. I never had a temper or got into trouble with my Ta's." She glances at Folly, "My aunts---my foster aunts." She runs her fingers through her hair. "Turns out I have a horrible temper now. In addition to actually trying to hit my father---in public in front of Jerod, Merlin, Vere...well, just everyone---I also nearly wrapped my hands around Moire's throat at breakfast. She laughed like I had recited some clever poem for her."
She closes her eyes and remembers easier days, "At Rebma court I was the meek angelfish. Loreena used to poke at me or throw barbed looks at me if I spoke too much. Since being sent away to Paris and learning who my parents really are---alive and oh, so devious---it's like the monster inside of me is free to do whatever passion takes me." She sighs. "Passions. Which brings us to Khela."
Celina opens her eyes and drifts closer to Folly. Her voice is softer, "Khela taught me...at boarding school, she was one of the best teachers there and we girls loved her. I adored her. She was funny and wise. And when I got grants to study through break, I got extra TaKhi from her. And...and when graduation came, there were some special projects that enabled me to hold over, not go home, and help set up for the next run of classes. We spent so much time...together...that it seemed amazing and wonderful when we started sharing bodies." Celina rubs a hand over her eyes, frowning, "Now..." She sighs. "Now I don't know if she just set me up to be her toy and thereby cut Moire. Which is what everything looks like. Rebma will think it now that she is queen."
Celina shakes back her wet hair and smiles a bit. "Except...it doesn't really feel like that. Khela acts as smitten as I. It is hard to be without her for any length of time. I guess that is about as wrong as wrong can be."
Folly smiles a little, and there is something knowing and wistful in it, as if Celina's story hits close to home for her, too. "It's a great many things, but I'm not convinced 'wrong' has to be one of them." She tilts her head and regards Celina thoughtfully. "Did she know who you were -- or perhaps more to the point, who your parents were -- at the time, even before you did? And would it make a difference to you whether she did or not?"
"She did not know at first," Celina responds. She purses her lips thinking about how best to answer the more complex question. "I suspect not even my Aunties knew. By the time Khela figured out who I must be, I think she believed there would be more harm than not in talking to me about it. Or that I might misstep on her. But she did know before I found out. I wish she had told me even if she was guessing." A beat goes by. "I think it would have made a difference to a few things. I've also considered that Khela almost surely wondered that I might be a trap laid for her by my mother.
"It appears that my mother's hold on the throne has never been as steady or sure as it appeared for this long time. She has plans that run deep and serve her in holding power."
Folly nods slowly, as if this were confirmation of something she already suspected. She reaches out a hand, beckoning Celina closer. Her voice is low and conspiratorial; her gaze steady, concerned. "Someday soon, I may be called on to choose sides and take a stand in a civil war I'd really rather ignore. I don't know Moire, and I don't know Khela, except through others' stories -- but oh, those stories! When my heart lines them up, pain for pain and bitterness for bitterness, it's clear who comes out on top. But even so, I know there's too much I don't know."
Celina nods smoothly.
"What I do know is how I want it all to end for the people I love. I want my husband -- and my daughter -- to be free of Rebma, and of the machinations of her royals, except to the extent they so choose for themselves. I want a Rebma that is friend rather than foe to Xanadu and her king. I want a ruler on the Rebman throne who is fair and just and wise and concerned for the well-being of even the least of her subjects. And I want those who would use you as little more than a pawn in their power plays to get the f*** over themselves." Folly's eyes flash with protective anger on her cousin's behalf.
Celina blushes a very dark desaturated green that renders the Parisian light on her skin nearly dull. Her eyes go wide with the emotional jolt of Folly's evocation.
"But." She lays a warm hand on Celina's shoulder and lets out a sigh. "There is one thing that supersedes all those others. And that is this: Whatever happens in Rebma will ripple through the universe. And so my first hope is that those changes don't unbalance the universe farther than we can reasonably compensate for it. Too many people have died already, and I fear it's not over. Deep in my gut, something tells me--- when I try to give Moire the benefit of the doubt, the only thing that makes any sense to me is that she does what she does because it's the only way she knows to keep everything from falling apart. I know there's too much I don't know, but--- if Khela wants to make a go of this, with you by her side supporting her as her trusted advisor, then I think you need to know what I know."
Folly drops her voice to a low murmur, barely louder than a whisper; her eyes search Celina's. "What do you know about the Jewel of Judgement?"
Celina thinks past her first answer. She considers her many studies of Rebma and makes a note to self to investigate what Rebma might have in the archives on Amber history.
Celina whispers, "Weather warping. Oberon and Eric were able to rouse the skies. There were those in Court who thought it clever to talk about Moire being able to do the same with the seas. Only it was a sapphire in Rebma, not a ruby." She looks at Folly. "Is it missing?"
"No, nothing like that; as far as I know the Jewel -- the Amber one, anyway -- is safe and accounted for." Folly hesitates, as if weighing how much she can safely say, but plunges ahead a moment later: "No, the important part is what it can do. And what it represents."
And she proceeds to tell Celina everything she knows about the Jewel of Judgement: about the Unicorn rising from the Abyss and choosing Random by presenting him with the Jewel; about Random attuning to it and holding back the shadow storm; about the subsequent compulsion to, in Random's words, 'draw a Pattern or die'.
Celina really shivers at that last. Her eyes look a bit wild. Folly is saying many things that ripple and swirl through her thoughts and acquire layers of substance.
"It's possible the Rebman Pattern works by some different principle -- that it and Amber's Pattern are not so similar as everyone has always assumed. But if they are...." A concerned crease appears between Folly's brows. "As I understand it, no one can truly be sovereign of Amber anymore, because the one who drew that Pattern is dead, and only the scribe has full mastery of the resulting realm. So... if Moins drew the Rebman Pattern originally -- and that's just speculation; I've never heard anyone state it as definitive fact -- I don't understand how Moire has managed to rule Rebma after Moins's death. Unless she's found other, probably much harder ways to shore up her power and control, metaphysically as well as politically."
Celina reaches for Folly.
Folly reaches out and takes Celina's hands in hers. "I wanted to tell you all of that because.... Well, I think someone Khela trusts, and who cares for her well-being, should know it. And maybe Khela already knows these things, and also knows enough of the history and arcane lore of Rebma to have a work-around, but...."
She hesitates again, and looks into Celina's eyes. Her own eyes are wide. "My great fear is that no matter how fair and wise Khela might be now, that the things she will have to do to hold Rebma will remake her in Moire's image."
Celina nods. She has been swept right past tears ....into wonder and fear in equal parts. "Yes, being remade in Moire's image is something I've feared for myself as well. I imagine Khela has had those thoughts." She sighs. "Certainly some of what has happened already seems to me to be the same as if a young Moire were fighting an old Moire."
She frowns. "When Oberon was thought dead, Eric took the throne to keep things together. It did not go well for him but he did keep things together." Celina sounds less sure as she adds, "Eric died. Oberon... returned? The Realm was broken only when Oberon died? So probably Moins never died. For I, like you, have believed Moins was a 'rightful queen' and knew how to keep her realm."
Folly nods, both confirming Celina's speculations and prompting her to go on.
Celina squeezes Folly hands because the words are going to get harder to say. "So whether Llewella knows it or not, Moins did return at some point, even if only in part. Moire ate ...or otherwise incorporated that surviving part of Moins into her self, learning a great deal but also realizing that she would not be a 'rightful queen' at all without some access to the Pattern. That access never happened, at least until me."
Folly looks grim and a bit alarmed. She squeezes Celina's hands in return, comfortingly.
Finally, shivering only slightly, Celina looks at Folly and says, "It has been said that Khela cannot walk the Pattern. So this Jewel path would be out of the question. Khela is therefore at great risk."
"Khela should talk to Random," Folly suggests; her eyes are slightly narrowed, and the wheels of her mind seem to be turning very quickly, spinning over what Celina has just told her. "At the very least, he can confirm or refute whether she's able to walk the Pattern. And he might be willing to tell her what knows about the Jewel. Your father might also, of course, but his motives in all this I'm less certain of."
Folly hesitates; when she speaks again, she seems to be choosing her words slowly and carefully, as if she's still working something out even as she speaks. "When you say... Moire ATE Moins" -- she can't help looking a bit horrified at the prospect -- "...you mean, in the Chaosian sense? And is that speculation on your part of how it might plausibly have happened, or... do you have reason to believe that's how it actually went down?" She hesitates again, then adds, "I don't recall Martin ever mentioning that as one of Moire's habits."
Celina takes a centering breath. "Speculation." She arranges her thoughts in a more ordered fashion and slowly recounts the Paris breakfast with Moire to Folly. Only Merlin has really heard the full version before this. Celina answers any of Folly's questions about details of tone and pacing.
Celina summarizes then, "So when I was angry and trying to provoke her, I reached for that horrible threat. 'I'll eat you first.' " Celina licks her lips. "Only her reaction was completely at odds with what I expected. She took a greater interest in me immediately. Offered that advice about eating something bigger than me. Talked about 'familiar with our relatives in Chaos?'. Offered to shelter me if I got eaten by a bigger fish and survived to crawl back to Rebma. It just hit me hard that she had been there and done it."
Celina has lost the shakes from unwinding all this. She just squeezes Folly's hands and looks her in the eye. "I think I have Chaos Blood from both sides. And maybe a dash of monster."
Folly smiles grimly at that last. "I might be inclined to interpret Moire's words metaphorically, if not for the bit about the relatives in Chaos." Her brow furrows. "And it fits with something Dworkin said, when he was showing me about Trumps. I asked if he and the Unicorn had had other children besides Oberon. He said yes, but that 'time has not been kind to our offspring'. I've been speculating for a while now that Moins could have been one of them, particularly if she's really the one who scribed the Rebman Pattern. Which definitely would make you part Chaosian on that side, too. But I suppose 'part monster' might depend on where you think Unicorns fit in the grand scheme."
She pauses, frowning. "Do you suppose it could have been the Rebman jewel Moire tried to eat, somehow? If it's like the Amber one, it would certainly be a source of Pattern... whatsit. Power. Essence." She pauses again. "But that might be a question for your brother."
"It might be one," Celina nods, "he's pretty good at figuring out how power works." She sighs. "How strange. I didn't believe the Unicorn part. So that is equally ....that would qualify as a monster, yes."
The Seaward Lass is silent for a few breaths. "No. I don't think Moire ate the Sapphire. She's been seen with it. Her need for access to the throne was long ago. She knows the Pattern kills. I cannot think she'd test herself against the Jewel if she knew anything like what you've outlined. It seems also like a test you don't walk away from if you fail...so no. If she had been that successful, there would be no civil strife. Whatever she ate, had either absorbed Moins, so she got back some of that for Rebma...or was Moins shattered, vulnerable. Moire thought that holding the throne required holding more of that broken thing... or Moins was mad when she returned from some disaster and attacked Moire. Moire found herself in a eat or be eaten struggle."
Celina shrugs halfheartedly. "Or there was another daughter older than Moire or Llewella that tried to do what I have been saying Moire did. That poor woman shattered and Moire has been holding things together as figurehead with that Remnant anchoring Rebma. No, I don' t think that. Somehow, Moins' 'rightful rule' did not perish but is not physically present to rule." Celina stops squeezing Folly's hands because she is getting agitated. She backs off and sinks into the water fully, rising up after a moment and shaking her face clear. "I don't have a better idea than Moire's own admissions."
"So... I think, if we want our further speculations to be more than just idle, we may want to consult someone -- or someones -- who knows something about Moins's death. Or alleged death." Folly chews her lip thoughtfully. "Or we could consult the cards."
"Are the cards so helpful?" Celina asks with some wonder in her voice. "Oh, wait. Who would the someone be?" To Celina, it is obviously not going to be Llewella, Corwin or Moire.
"Benedict might know something," Folly replies. "At the very least he might know whether there was a state funeral, and the nature of it -- and whether it was like or unlike Oberon's in ways that might give us some clues as to the truth of it. Not that even an open-casket funeral would necessarily be proof of death; Uncle Caine's proved that." She gives a wry smirk.
"As for the cards... I find that at the very least they have the power to reveal unconsidered possibilities. But even beyond that...." Folly hesitates, trying to work out how to explain it. "The Trumps are connected to the Patterns from which all ordered Reality springs forth. When they're used in combination with the Fortunes, it makes sense to me that what they show is in some fundamental way a reflection of that reality. Not that I have many Trumps to throw into the mix, mind you. But I do have Martin's, which... could provide some insights."
"Mmmm." Celina shakes her head from side to side. "I don't know Benedict well. He seems reluctant to talk of the past. Rebma seems unwilling to share information with Amber, so he may really have only seen the sham, whatever that was. I'd say half the cards needed is much like the real situation. I am not opposed to trying."
Folly gives a wry grin at Celina's assessment of the situation. "Do you have any Trumps you'd be willing to add to the deck for the reading? And what specific question do you think we should ask?"
"I have none," Celina admits. She pauses about the question itself. "We should ask about something that will help us build and stabilize. Or better understand what holds Rebma together despite the stresses." She slides through the water, eases into a resting posture against the sidewall and admires Folly for a moment.
"So we know that Moins did not pass things to Moire or Llewella. We suspect that means Moins is still alive somehow in part. We could ask where is the rightful queen of Rebma? If it points to Khela or Moire...that tells us something about Moins. If it points to Nedra, that tells us something about Moins and Moire. If it points to you." Celina smiles and raises a long leg from the water to point a toe at Folly's belly. "We can start long term planning."
Folly wrinkles her nose at that last as if at something putrid; it's clear she doesn't think the suggestion impossible, merely very, very undesirable. Her expression softens, though, as she tilts her head and regards Celina. "Have you considered, sister-of-my-heart, that it might also point to you? So perhaps the better question is not _where_ but _who_."
She pauses, thinking. "The details of the story the cards tell will also depend on who's asking; the standard spread includes cards for cards working to support and oppose the querent. Since you know many of the players better than I, it's possible the results will be easier to work out if you're the one doing the asking."
"Ah, I suppose that makes sense," Celina does not seem surprised. "I thought of the 'who' first... but realized that it could answer 'Moins' and leave us no wiser than before. If it pointed to a crypt or someplace.. very far south... that would be more useful." Celina finally addresses the more delicate question. "Me? Yes, I've thought of that. It doesn't resolve much in my mind. Would I be more 'rightful' than Llewella born of two strong lines? How did Rebma continue before I was born? Did Moins leave word her granddaughter would rule?" That might explain the deep agony Moire felt at Morganthe's loss.
Celina's words turn a bit softer. "I wonder that the Tritons are not working from some sort of mythic omens as well." She shakes off the curiosities for now. "Two things concern me about my part in all this: one, what makes the Tritons pin their hope on me, two, is Khela playing for the throne with the expectation that I can help her anchor it because I have walked the Pattern." Now Celina makes a sour face that spills her inner turmoil out for just a second. "You see, I've had some of those thoughts about what the throne does to people that hold it. Just not as clearly as you have sketched it.
"But my question for the cards would be... " she sighs, "...bigger. Amber shattered like the rock it was built on when the King died without an heir. Paris... well, my father warned me most strongly not to even attempt holding Paris and to leave that to Merlin. Can fluid Rebma weather the succession storm? If Moins was Oberon's equal, we have a chance she provided for Pattern succession somehow. Each king of a Pattern seems to think it is possible to pass the rule. Perhaps the only question is, 'how do we set the Pattern rule of Rebma right again?'"
Folly considers that question for a long moment. Then she nods. "A complicated question, that is likely to have a complicated answer; but it might offer some interesting insights. I might be careful of the 'we', though: the cards are tricksy beasts, and I think they would enjoy making you wonder whether their answer was meant for a 'we' that is our whole family, or the whole universe, or you and Khela, or you and me, or something else entirely." She pauses. "Perhaps we should each ask the cards a question. To... triangulate, I suppose."
Folly's actions intrigue Celina. [assume the reading does not happen in tub...so they go to Celina's room, I think. Maybe sitting in fluffy towels talking about... not dead people will be... naw. ]
[if above assumptions work, then scene set is:]
Celina's rooms are typical of the palace suites, except the windows are open and there are colorful comforters, silks throws and plump pillows everywhere draped over spindly French furniture or in small piles on the floor. Apparently, the servants are working around these because they could not have accumulated in a day's cycle.
Doors to other rooms stand open, not closed. The rooms appears a bit storm tossed with bits of comfort drawn into nesting spots.
Unless Celina indicates she should do otherwise, Folly settles onto a large pillow on the floor and prepares to lay the cards out on the rug before her. She almost doesn't seem to notice that there is proper furniture she could have used instead.
Folly shuffles her deck and lays out the traditional six-card pyramid in a flat space, asking the question "who is the rightful queen of Rebma?"
Bottom row:
Death
The Priestess, reversed
The Phoenix
Middle row:
The Soldier
The Fish, reversed
Top row:
The Creator (sideways)
Folly frowns silently at the cards for a long moment; then, recognizing that Celina is probably not quite as familiar with these sorts of readings as she herself is, she says, "The interesting thing about the Fortunes is that while each card has an accepted symbolic meaning, sometimes the literal image itself might hold clues." The cards before them, done up in colored pencil in Folly's own hand, are certainly rich with fanciful and detailed imagery, like illustrations for a children's fairy-story. She taps the first one. "Either way, I think this one -- Death, or Change, in the past -- says 'not Moins' -- at least not right now, although that Future card is a bit worrisome -- and it possibly could be also read as 'not Moire', depending on whether we think it is the distant or the recent past."
Folly continues touching the cards one-by-one and giving their correspondences: "The present is Impracticality, the future is Rebirth----" She looks at Celina and arches an eyebrow significantly. "Then on the next row, the force working in favor of the querent is Duty, the force opposing the querent is Shallowness -- or possibly Not Being Rebman, which makes sense -- and the Fate, the thing that hangs in the balance, is the tension between Nurture and Abandonment. Or if we want to take that one literally, it might refer to a literal act of creation -- such as drawing a Pattern. Or... you know." She smiles grimly at Celina.
Returning her gaze to the spread, Folly says, "I know what I see here, but I'm interested to hear your take, unspoiled by too many of my speculations."
Celina doesn't object to what Folly has asked, she assumes that Folly knows the Seaward girl knows next to nothing about the cards or how this works. So Celina studies that cards closely, admiring the foreign style and wondering at how childlike they seem in their coloriot. If you did not really look at the details, you would think they were play toys.
She doesn't intend to touch them, but finds after a few minutes that she has been running her fingertips over the first row of cards quite a bit. Long enough that she realizes she hears the ocean on the shore. But Paris has no such shore. She pulls back her hand. Celina points at the first card. "Death is the ocean and Rebma's beginning. This is Moins. Draw or Die." She pauses. "And since what we asked was..." She studies the second card. "This is the Throne undone in her offices. The sweet Llaya is turned on its head." She looks at the next card. "But...the Throne survives changed. Powerfully changed and renewed."
Celina looks at the next row. "This is Llewella. Duty to hold. It also influences Khela who has tried the warrior test several times in her mother's stead. Next is Moire, who has grabbed the Throne upside down and turned herself to suit it." It feels right as she says it. It also feels wrong because she understands that she has turned upside down a few times already.
Lastly she gazes at the Creator a while. She closes her eyes as the colors start to hurt her eyes a bit. There was a glistening to the card's surface that seemed like water on the ocean when the solar disk settled at day end. That light could destroy vision... or make the imagination dance. "Hanging in the balance. Sideways to all choices." She frowns at the flash of red and silk whisper in the dark behind her closed eyes. "Birthed up and left without choices. That's me. Duty is making a path for me."
Celina swallows and opens her eyes. "Most... distressing. But then, I don't know the cards. I'll hear your detailed account."
Folly gives Celina a rueful smile and touches the center card in the bottom row. "This card speaks to me loudly of Khela, who currently holds the throne though she has not walked the Pattern, and evidently cannot; the Priestess when she is upright bespeaks 'Understanding Mysteries', suggesting to me that the particular Impracticality shown by this card stems from not sufficiently understanding the right mysteries. Of course, by the same token, it could also be Moire. But this Future...." Folly touches the bright Phoenix. "My first reaction was that whoever the rightful queen may be now, she may not remain so -- that Moins's power might somehow soon be reborn into another person. Or the realm itself be reborn. It could also be Khela being remade in her true form on the Pattern, if she turns out to be able to walk it after all."
She touches the two cards in the second row. "I admit I feel less certain about the meaning of these two. Since one of my desired outcomes is that no one tries to saddle my daughter with this throne, the 'Duty' could be someone else stepping up to it. It could also be Martin, faithful in his promise to me to try to keep from getting entangled; but his own card was in the deck, so if it does mean Martin, it means something very specific about him."
Folly looks at Celina. "You named Llewella for this card, but I don't know enough about her to agree or disagree. And what did you mean that Khela has 'tried the warrior test'?"
Celina smiles. "I don't say that I know enough about my aunt either. Llewella made some promises to Moire to save Khela from execution when Khela first tested the Oaths of the Tritons. Before that, Llewella supported Moire and kept a kind of watch. I think of her as Duty in the mix." Celina reaches out and touches the card. "But is not Duty also a cruel path? So Llewella's influence to Duty does correspond to Khela. Khela has taken up opposition to the throne twice now, or perhaps never really stopped. She is Duty to a higher Rebma. This also means she is already cruel and willing to do evil for a greater good. She is acting in faith but not with loyalty to Moire, who holds the kingdom together. In the name of greater Duty, Khela becomes a military usurper. Llewella's Duty seems more pure. Khela did not take that path. The test of a warrior is often holding back from applying your final solution."
Celina looks at Folly. "Khela is the tempest until this finds a new shape. I think Duty in the younger generation would be Jerod, Martin and Conner. I don't think this leans on your child. I just put that out to tease you."
Folly responds with a wry smile, but it's clear the wheels of her mind are turning furiously behind her sparkling eyes. "You make good points about Khela's history and motivations, though. Here we have a Rebma in transition, from death to rebirth" -- her hand waves over the bottom row, coming to rest on the middle card -- "and an ill-prepared queen faced with a choice: Does she commit herself to the hard duty of nurturing the city she rules by rights -- no matter what the struggle and the cost?" She traces an angled path from Priestess to Soldier to Creator. "Or, having effected the change she wanted -- unseated the old queen, freed the Tritons -- does she declare herself done and abandon the city to whoever will step up to take it?" She traces the opposing path from Present to Fate.
Perhaps sensing they won't get much further without additional clarification, Folly offers the deck to Celina.
Celina takes them gingerly and begins carefully sorting and resorting them. She starts to hum a bit because she is nervous about the influence these tiny paintings seem to have on the Family at every turn. The tune however takes on a stronger effect when she realizes that it is a marching song that troops coming back from the Black Trench War sang through the Seaward streets. She smiles. Those were brave people in a nasty war.
As a teen, she learned a lot helping in the hospitals. War in not something she wants, ever.
"So how might I set the Pattern rule of Rebma right again?" Her voice sounds more husky and older than she expects. She begins to put each card in place.
Death, reversed
Sowing Stones
The Usurper
Middle row:
The Fish
The Peasant, reversed
Top row:
The Phoenix (sideways)
Celina pauses after the first card. The same card completely reversed troubles her a lot. 'Eternal Rebma' perhaps instead of Rebma's beginning? That would be how she started thinking of the place when she first heard stories. Or Rebma trapped?
She regathers her discipline and puts down the other cards more smoothly. Then she looks at Folly. She would try this first and listen to Folly's greater experience afterwards.
"Rebma again," Celina starts fingering the Death card. "Perhaps locked in a struggle without growth or life. Perhaps Moins is entombed within the City.
"My present efforts," she looks at the peasant and her stones, "are taxing but bearing no gain or hope of it.
"The next influence is the Usurper?" Celina looks at Folly. [Player is not familiar with Usurper in our game, consulting the Everway rules....would this be Pattern?]
Middle row, "The force in favor is Rebma itself. The full depth of what the city means aligns with me and is part of what makes me strong. But opposed is a weakness of vision. That would be very true. I've not really understood the long view. Rebma might also be thinking very short term right now. The Court will want to fit Khela into their own plans quickly. Yes, Moire might return with a hidden strength. The Court will be hedging in the short term. They won't cooperate at all with large changes.
"Finally, we see Rebirth or Death hangs in the balance. Personally and for the City." Celina does not take that badly at all. It rather inspires her a bit to know it is a serious business that lays before her. She looks at the whole layout again. "Or perhaps Draw or Die is the answer again. Death and Phoenix are in both readings in very portent ways." She frowns seems about to say something more...but waits for Folly to speak.
"Draw or Die," Folly echoes. "I see that, too, as one strong possibility for the meaning here. This card" -- she touches the Usurper -- "speaks to a major and perhaps violent shift in the balance of power. That could mean the old Rebma dying away to a shadow of its former self, perhaps replaced by a new realm with a new Pattern. Or it could be Khela coming fully into her own, replacing Moire and upending the traditional power structure of Rebma. Or---" Folly looks gravely at Celina. "Given the question you asked, it could mean that things cannot be set to rights unless you yourself, a master of Pattern, step forward to do the things Khela cannot -- or cannot foresee that she needs to do." She indicates the upended Peasant.
Her expression softens. "What is Rebma to you, Celina?" she asks gently. "Do you seek to set right her rule because you love Rebma? Because you love Khela? Because it is needful, and the costs of not doing so are too great? All of these things? Or something else entirely?"
Celina sighs and slowly nods. "That's the problem as well as the solution." Celina finds a meditation posture so that she will be completely balanced while treading this emotional ground. "You already know that I was raised outside of all this. I grew up with a love of charity, because I was orphaned. I learned about Rebma first as a little girl in school. The City Esteemed Ladies and powerful allies was always something fascinating and full of life and art. Young ladies talked about taking a trip there after finishing school. Not everyone really could afford to do it, as it was far away and expensive unless you had a trade factor well set up there." She smiles. "Every girl I knew had a well done up family and many of them didn't get to make the trip. I felt so special when I earned the travel studies grant to spend a year there."
Celina steps past all that. "Anyhow, being pulled into the Rebman Court, the glamour and such wore thin very quickly as the dangers presented themselves. Whereas most people were kind to an Orphan when I was in the Seaward, in the Court and City, everyone treated me as suspect. Family is so important. Most of all I could not fathom...well, doesn't matter now. I know why Loreena might have hated me." Celina doesn't fully go into the things Moire took time to teach her or the secrets that she did learn being appointed to the Royal Bedchambers.
Celina looks at Folly. "There's a reason you could not know. When I was a teen, the War did terrible things to people. I saw so many brave men and women dying slowly in the hospitals of wounds that no one knew how to heal. Soldiers coughing up their lungs from poisons or parasites that never existed in our lands. Eventually, my aunts restricted me from spending time there volunteering. I guess they thought I was getting a bit obsessed with the dying. I hate what the War did. In my mind, the Blackness is something the Chaosi threw at us. Most of the instability and turmoil still around us is from that War."
Celina smiles grimly. "I'd risk a lot to set things on a better course. I do not love Rebma, but I love what it is supposed to be. I love the young women who want to see it when they grow up. I love the defenders of it who gave their lives to hold the Seaward." She nods. "I do love Khela, even as I think I need to step a bit away from that obsession. I think the Pattern is too important to ignore and the costs of not knowing are far too steep. I love your unborn child and want her to have an Emerald City to visit. I love me and want to celebrate the Pattern I survived."
Celina has managed to say all this without expressing the full emotional content that might make her voice shake, but Folly can tell she's in a physical place that moderates her breathing and control.
Folly reaches out and takes Celina's hand. "You know I am trying to be careful not to let myself and my husband and child become too intimately embroiled in the vicissitudes of Rebman politics; my strongest commitments are to my family and to Xanadu. But what happens in Rebma affects us all. Know that you will have my advice whenever you ask for it -- and perhaps sometimes even when you do not." She gives Celina a wry smile. "And whatever I find out about the situation -- political, metaphysical, or otherwise -- if I can share it without breaking confidences, I will."
"Advice when I don't ask for it will be just fine with me," Celina says, "as long as I get the other benefits." She grins. Celina looks at the card layout again. "I have a lot to think about."
As the funeral reception winds down, Brennan finds a page, into whose ear he murmurs the instructions to request a meeting with Khela the next day, before she leaves. Or, at her pleasure, the time of her departure that Brennan may accompany her. The page is to leave word with Brennan or with Dignity as to the outcome of this request.
The page reports back almost immediately that Her Majesty is speaking with Prince Martin in one of the salons, which he names, and Sir Brennan is free to join them at his earliest convenience.
Brennan raises a silent eyebrow at the mention that Martin and Khela are together. It's hard to imagine Martin putting himself in that position unless he wanted to endorse her actions and politics which, while possible, seemed unlikely.
He had originally intended his convenience to be the following morning, but curiosity and the phrasing of the invitation-- which may have been due more to Martin than to Khela-- propels him. He goes to the appointed place, and has himself announced in whatever fashion Paris favors this season, then enters and greets the occupants.
The sitting room is ostentatious and overstuffed and neither Khela nor Martin looks perfectly at home. The pair of them are sitting on opposite sides of a small gaming table, although it has neither games nor drinks upon it.
The Queen and the Prince look up at Brennan's entrance, and both rise. She's wearing her blandest diplomatic face; he's wearing a lack of expression that Brennan remembers from poker night, with none of the good humor.
"I think I've made my feelings on the matter clear," Martin says, which seems to be his way of concluding whatever discussion they were having. "Brennan," he says to Brennan, nodding once, "we'll catch up later. Good afternoon, Khela," he says, not making a point of omitting her honorifics, but not including any either. Nor does he wait for her to dismiss him, but the Heir Presumptive of Amber and Xanadu hardly has to.
"Count on it," Brennan says, in response to Martin, but doesn't hinder him as he makes his escape.
As Martin leaves, Khela turns to Brennan. "Sir Brennan, I am greatly indebted to you, as is all Rebma. Few know of your gallant defense of the heart of our city, and though it may remain so, I consider you amongst her stoutest friends." She smiles. "Never become King, Brennan. You will find yourself giving speeches at the most surprising times."
Under the circumstances, Brennan can't quite find it within himself to perform the Bleys-impression that this meeting really requires. Still, he can force a bit of brightness into his manner. The funerals are over and hopefully there won't be another for a very long time.
"Yes, but then people would be forced to listen to me, the novelty of which would last a considerable length of time," he replies. "I am glad to have done what I was able to do, although it bothers me that every quarry I had that day managed to slip through my fingers." Unless Khela looks determined to stand in place, Brennan takes a seat and arranges himself somewhat less adversarially than Martin had.
Khela indicates the seats and takes hers across from Brennan.
"The realm must fare well, to allow the grace of your presence here." There's a way to say that sarcastically. Brennan doesn't say it that way. There's also a way to say that seriously and graciously-- that's the way Brennan intends it.
Khela blushes a darker green. "It is a calculated risk, but I felt I needed to take it. I cannot stay for a full family visit, and I did not know either of our late cousins, but I felt I needed to show my support and to offer you who knew them both my condolences. I was once told that the measure of youth was how one responds to the death of those we are close to. I am sorry for your personal loss, and consider you all the more heroic for not letting personal tragedy disable you."
She smiles, tightly, and pauses.
Brennan shrugs, uncomfortable not with the label itself, but in polishing any part of it with Cambina's own memory and legacy. "Thank you," he says, more for the condolences than for anything else. "It is a mark of no small progress that even calculated risks are conceived and executed so soon after all was nearly lost. Even if few know exactly what was at stake.
"Thank you also for the hospitality shown to my squire, Dignity, and our companions," he says.
Since he's entered the room, Brennan has also made an unobtrusive survey of any mirrors or excessively reflective surfaces in the room. If Martin discussed anything of importance, proper mirrors are unlikely, but a certain vigilance is always required.
The room is hung with faceted cut crystal, it is bright without using reflective surfaces.
She nods. "Your squire fought well on the battlefield, and will be a fine knight someday. His service should be rewarded. As should yours, Sir Brennan. Now, I would not wish to offer honors to one who would reject them, as your cousin might choose to do, but I would not fail to honor those who proved loyal and true to the safety of Rebma."
She smiles. "It is not my intent to continue to icy relations that have existed between the sea and the land, and part of that is recognizing our friends as friends."
Brennan smiles faintly, knowing exactly who Khela is referring to but affecting not to know, or certainly not to say out loud. "Dignity has served me for a long time, and very well. This is not at all his first war, and I would be pleased to hear of his exploits, although I am sorry to have missed them myself.
"And as for land-sea relations, that is a formal decision in the hands of Kings Random and Corwin. But that said, a personal friendship between a son of Brand and a daughter of Llewella, should serve as its own political statement." Brennan puts a wry twist to his lips, continuing, "What should I expect when I visit the Court of Rebma? To be a focal point of those still holding on to that old friction? For some to use that old friction as a mask for other opposition?" It's pretty clear that Brennan hardly fears any of that, although he always wants to know what he's getting in to.
Khela shrugs. "Were you to visit her today? You would find that things are new, but built upon the old, and no one knows for sure what will be six months on. So few take great risks, although some hope to profit from audacious action.
"I try to build the court I want, which will be one of progress, not the past. My great audacity is to try to treat Tritons as if they are people. It works for now, in part because they were so publicly useful in defending our city from Huon. That, too is talked about, and works to the favor of my endeavor. It will be some time before I know if it is successful, and longer before I know if it is foolhardy. Being immortal means our oldest mistakes live on." She loses her smile momentarily.
"The controversy does absorb the attention of all but the most determined, and few people have time to debate me when they can debate my acts and the morality thereof."
She smiles at him. "You would come to Rebma as my friend and cousin," she says, tapping the gaming table with a slender finger. "Both of those things, with the attachments and advantages and disadvantages that come with it. You would instantly have friends and enemies and those who would see you lose to get at me and those who use you to get access to me and all the other prerogatives of Princes everywhere. In short, it is a court not so different from the one we visit here, but younger and less aloof.
"Rebma is a mirror of Amber, but not a perfect mirror. Given what happened to Amber, I cannot say I'm sorry for that."
"So in short," Brennan summarizes, "politics as usual, and politics which might use the old Red-Green dissonance as cover, but likely not driven by it." He waits for Khela to either agree or clarify before continuing, but it sounds as though he can-- easily-- live with that.
She nods. "Today. Best I can do, without changing out the populace, which I am neither interested in nor capable of doing. " A quick shrug. "Those who do not change will eventually leave the court that does not suit them or be replaced by younger family members who are more effective."
"Although I have always been curious about something: If Rebma is a mirror of Amber, what is the corresponding elements to the Tritons in Amber?" Brennan muses.
Khela pauses. "I hadn't thought of it. Do you have 'Daughters of the Dragon' lurking nearby? If so, be certain your settlement of whatever problem they represent does not become a larger problem in the future."
"Well, yes, we do," says Brennan, "although for various reasons we tend not to refer to them as such. I have some small knowledge of their history and origins, but little of yours. Which makes it difficult to tell what aspects between them are reversed, what aspects reflect true, and which are simply... uncorrelated gilt and decorations. Many of the problems of our generation lie in not understanding our own history."
Khela smiles. "I agree, yet understanding it can lead to equally large problems. I am Queen in Rebma today because I understood more of our history than my cousins, but I was exiled and watched my dearest friends killed because I understood more of our history than my Aunt who was Queen wished me to. The riptides of that disaster still affect us." She looks at the door, then back at Brennan.
Brennan thinks about that from the parts of Khela's viewpoint he understands. But he's thought about the issue long enough from his own viewpoint that his opinion is not changed.
"Knowledge is dangerous, but ignorance is deadly. We both know that, better than most of our cousins," Brennan says, without bothering to explain. "But survival isn't enough, without purpose. I think we both know that, too. And so it nags at me, this gap in my education: Not only the question of how, precisely, Amber and Rebma are related, but why. What factors in their design caused this? Knowing that is protection for the future, in the same way that knowledge was protection against Huon's madness."
The new Queen of Rebma nods. "You and I agree, but it is not wise to assume there are no costs. I met your father, once, many years ago. Back when he was looking for information about Martin."
"I have never assumed that there are no costs to knowledge. You can't even simply have it, much less use it or keep it, without it changing you," Brennan says quietly.
He lets the conversation lull for a moment, but doesn't really change the topic when he asks: "Did you ever tell him Brand was asking after him?"
Khela shakes her head. "I hadn't seen him again until today. Brand knew more about him than I did, which was that he was still alive. My early exile was not as comfortable as it later became."
"It might not have mattered much if you had," Brennan says. "It's very unlikely he would have known what to do with the information, because I wasn't telling anyone what I knew about Brand's plans, either." Brennan tactfully does not point out that Khela must have had some measure of protection of her own, even in exile, or Brand wouldn't have needed Martin.
"In retrospect, a mistake. My knowledge of Brand's plans saved nothing more than my life. Amber is... no longer what she once was. But of course, Amber and Rebma are still connected-- the damage of the recent earthquake mirrors the damage Amber suffered a few years ago, so that connection remains." Brennan almost smiles at the unintentional use of the word 'mirror.' "And now, we find it is possible for Sorcerous constructs to exist in Rebma's Pattern chamber, and for Conner and I to tear time and space right next to it, at a moment's notice. Considering the state of Amber, these are haunting signs.
"I haven't made a show out of those concerns in public," Brennan says. "Given your interest, your obvious knowledge of Rebma's history, and our recent adventures, you seemed the logical place to start."
Khela nods. "You must guess I hope to find a way into Rebma's pattern chamber from here, for just such reasons. I would not wish to meet so many of my relatives as a supplicant, but the business of the state must come first."
She directly at Brennan. "If I rule a kingdom doomed, as they say Amber is doomed, I want to know."
Brennan inclines his head at Khela's plan, without offering an opinion on it. "What are you expecting, once you reach it?" Brennan sounds as though he at least has a posibility tree in mind, even if he might not know exactly how heavy each branch is.
She shrugs, and shakes her head. "The center of the universe. A map of my Llaya. My Aunt, with a big knife. I don't really know. Magic."
Brennan puts off any meditation on whether Khela reminds him of Celina, or if it's the other way around.
What he says is, "It's not magic-- not Sorcery. Superficially, what I think is there is a functioning, visually intact Pattern. That is the condition I left it in," he explains. "All things considered. I didn't have the time to make a careful inspection, but I did have the presence of mind to look at the thing as best I could while dealing Huon's blood." Brennan ruthlessly suppresses a shudder at that memory. "So there's that much for good news. But still, the connection between Amber and Rebma is still there. The earthquake and damage pattern is too much to be a coincidence."
Khela nods, but doesn't add anything.
Brennan looks inward for a moment, in planning mode, then looks back at Khela. "So, we've accounted for, or at least planned for, one of the major metaphysical points of reflection. Another is in Conner's hands, which is clever: it allows him to study it in comparison with Bleys's, without your directly incurring the price of avuncular assistance.
"But there is still another," he says.
Khela looks across the small table at Brennan. "I believe I know what you speak of, but continue. I am interested in your take on the correspondences."
Brennan thinks carefully before answering. "That depends on its history, both ancient and modern. In modern times, Amber's version... changed hands several times, as Amber was changing Kings, even showing up on the field of battle. Thus, much depends on this: Is it safe and secure in your possession? Or is it changing hands?"
Khela nods. "I have neither stone nor scepter. While I want them back, I am not sure if ours has the power of Amber's. There are no stories of lightning nor weather control on the part of my Aunt."
Brennan nods back, with some resignation. He'd have done no less, in Moire's place, than take the Jewel with him.
"That's very worrisome," he says. "I've heard the Jewel described as a Shadow or a reflection of Amber's, with the implication that it is subordinate. But then, I used to hear of Rebma herself described that way in regards to Amber. I think we've all had cause to update our opinions on that. If it is of a kind with the other, then it is an inherently dangerous object-- safe enough if kept in Rebma or somewhere similar, but damaging to the fabric of other places around it. Much as are we.
"As for the lack of stories," Brennan shrugs. "That may be evidence that the Jewel is subordinate, or evidence that your aunt simply did not or could not use it properly, or that it was used in other, subtler ways. The obvious application to me would be less weather control than tidal control, current control, or something similar. And if not Moire, then perhaps there are stories of Moins."
She leans back, considering. "There are none that I know. Perhaps Mother knows more. Whatever the truth of it, we wish it back, because the people expect to see it. The symbols of power are not power, but suggest power to those who are used to them.
"But I wonder, do Corwin or Random sport a jewel of their own? Are there differences in quality amongst Pattern Cities?"
Brennan frowns to himself-- despite the obvious nature of the question, especially considering what had previously been said about Rebma's relationship to Amber, he really hadn't considered it. "Not that I've experienced," he says at last, "but I haven't really looked for one, or tested the notion. And the duties of Knighthood often take me far from any of the Pattern Cities. Despite what I was told as a young child, my guess is, no. Not in that sense." But he's obviously open to revising that opinion now that the possibility has been raised.
"So. Are there any suspects or leads for the Jewel besides the blindingly obvious one?" Brennan asks.
She nods. "Yes, but none that aren't part of her escape. My Aunt left Rebma with her guards, and her archivist. The men are both at the embassy, but the Archivist is at liberty."
"You are supposing that she left the Jewel with someone? That would be an audacious misdirection," Brennan says. "But potentially very dangerous for whoever carries it." In the back of his mind, Brennan is considering the various possible interactions of reality around such an object: That it would deform a Shadow around it, Brennan is fairly certain. A Pattern realm, probably not. Would that suffice to protect a bearer from it? Unknown. Make it easier or harder to find it? Unknown.
"This archivist," Brennan says. "I had thought to ask her about tales of Moins and the Jewel. She is Moire's creature?"
Khela pauses, then nods. "I think she must be, although I haven't spoken to her in many, many years. She wasn't when I lived in Rebma, but she is a member of my Aunt's court, and she fled with her, when no others did."
Once again, Brennan puts something off for consideration later: Did Khela just convince Brennan that the Archivist is an agent of Moire? Or did Brennan convince Khela? "There are always other potential explanations," Brennan says, "But it is something to bear in mind, should I speak with her. I have much to consider, as well. Getting a proper look at the Pattern is obviously a priority, and there is a near guaranteed way to achieve that, requiring nothing more than that I risk my life." Brennan gives a wry smile to indicate that while he considers the risk fairly low, and worth taking, he'd prefer other means if possible. "There may be more clever ways, though. I have some business to attend while the full Family is assembled here in Paris, but I consider this a priority. Have you a Trump, should a call be warranted?" he asks.
Khela shakes her head. "I don't. We didn't share my existence freely amongst the family when I was younger. When I met Brand, I was only 'Martin's old friend from Rebma'. Your father was charming, until he was scary. I was sure he suspected it, but couldn't prove I was his niece. We wondered if his visit was to flush me out, actually.
"I stopped being so annoyed at Mother's restrictions then, and read quite a bit of Amber history that year.
Having been on the other side of the secrecy veil, himself, Brennan gives a thin but understanding smile. "And so we're back where we started from-- the costs of secrecy."
She smiles. "Our embassy here can contact me, but it's not very private. Otherwise, it's Paris to Rebma down the stairs, unless you find another way in and then it's up the inner stairs from the basement."
"Noted," he says. "If I had a Trump of my own I'd give you one." Which is an easy thing to say when you haven't got one. "As I said, I have a few matters to take care of here in Paris, while the vast majority of our cousins, aunts and uncles are available. And I'll be making a side-trip, I think, as part of trying to get to your Pattern chamber-- there are several possible angles to work before going the full brute force method. But either way, I'll be in touch."
Brennan rifles through the deck of topics in his mind, then realizes there's one he hasn't used. "Oh. I almost forgot one of the reasons I came to talk to you in the first place: When I arrived in Rebma, I had with me my squire, and a group of Shadow dwellers as my retainers. We were all about the business of hunting and killing the Eater-- Dignity and I for personal reasons, the Aelfs because it had stolen something from them. A large, somewhat living gemstone." He holds out his hands to show the size that it had been when he and the Eater were wrangling over it, at the Lake of Fire.
"It is not like the ones we spoke of before, but it is precious to the Aelfs who fought with me. I suspect that it was used by Huon as part of his rituals," Brennan says, "but I would be remiss if I did not ask after it, or its fragments, on their behalf."
"I know not of it, but you or your squire may ask after it. I would suggest Huon's magicians, unless you can question him directly."
She frowns, and leans forward. "I am unclear on the role of this 'Eater' and its connection to Huon. How did he control it, and what was his part in the events below?"
"If I knew any of those things, I'd sleep easier at night," Brennan says. "While the Eater and its various constituent entities have a long, mostly unpleasant history with the Knights of the Ruby, I know of no prior connection to Huon. If it crosses my path again, I'll kill it and take the answer from the pieces."
She nods once. "We will let you know if it crosses ours again. If we find it first, you will be able to question it. Or the pieces."
Last modified: 14 June 2010