Following his adventures learning about Clervaux in the church with the strange brothers, and Adreano's attempt to seduce Ossian's aunt Florimel, it becomes time for Ossian and Adreano to leave Paris. Corwin assigns a strage knight to assist them; his name is Sir Firumbras. Corwin explains to Ossian that Sir Firumbras was trapped for many centuries and has only recently been freed. In this way, he is much like Reid, for all that he comes from a time before Reid's birth. Corwin thinks Firumbras might know something about Clervaux in addition to his skill at arms. What Corwin does not say, but Ossian may read between the lines, is that Sir Firumbras is something of a puzzle and by sending him with Ossian and Adreano, Corwin may learn as much as they do.
Ossian and Adreano have a copy of the painting of Clervaux from the Church of St. Ninian. They have supplies according to Ossian's instructions as well as the company of Sir Firumbras.
Sir Firumbras proves to be a courtly knight of Paris of old, or so he says. What he looks like is--if the descriptions Ossian has heard and the depictions he has seen are anywhere near accurate--a Moonrider, or something very closely related to it. He is tall and slender, and rides like he was born in the saddle. He has a horseman's blade and a rowan shield and knows strange old songs, which he proves by singing them on the road as they leave Paris, riding three abreast. Once they're clear of the city and the influence of its Pattern, it's up to Ossian to set the direction, as he's the only one of the three who can forge their paththrough Shadow.
Ossian will start shifting towards places that looks like his Clervaux picture, although significantly aged. He explains to his companions that this trip will take time. How do they handle the shifting shadows?
Adreano has heard of the paths travelled by the merchants of Amber, but has never travelled much himself. Certainly he's never done anything as wild and ambitious as travel off the beaten paths with a princeling of Amber. Ossian hears him muttering an occasional fragment of poetry under his breath, as if he's composing some long piece while they travel.
Sir Firumbras has clearly done quite a bit of Shadow travel in the past. He's interested in the process, if not inquisitive about the mechanics. He comes much better practically prepared than either Adreano or (probably) Ossian: he has money and saddlebags with supplies and gear that Ossian realizes, when they get out into Shadow, is for hunting. They can stay in inns while they're in civilized parts of the universe, but they won't have to, and Ossian won't have to do much conjury.
Ossian is duly impressed, and happy that he does not have to spend energy on conjuring food. He will ask Firumbras for some light sparring in the evening, more to judge Firumbras capacity than for the exercise. Ossian will ask him if he's been to Clervaux.
Sir Firumbras is happy to spar with either Adreano or Ossian. (Adreano passes and uses the time to compose.)
Firumbras is Ossian's equal, at least, in swordsmanship, which is unusual for someone not related to Ossian. But he did claim to be one of the peers of the King of Paris in some ancient time, so he might just be that good of a fighter. Ossian might be able to outlast him, but even so, that would take a while to find out and probably harder sparring than they're doing.
"I visited once, briefly, in service to King Carol, but it was never a place I spent much time. It was a place of learning, which I respected--as did the King!--but I was not made for the library or scriptorium."
Ossian nods. "I do wonder what they did study. Reid was learned, but also somewhat barbaric. What was the nature of the Clervauxians?"
"Saving your presence, the Princes of Amber were always ambitious and bloodthirsty. If Reid was of that stock, he brought barbarism to Clervaux with him. The brothers of Clervaux were dedicated to knowledge, sometimes too much so." Firumbras gives Ossian a knowing grin. "They hoarded and traded, gathering in, and sometimes keeping secret what might well have been better off freely disclosed."
"That is a tradition that is carried on by others. Do you know anything of the fate of Clervaux?"
Firumbras shakes his head in the negative. "It's still there to my knowledge, so I suppose it must have happened, whatever it was, after I was taken and ensorcelled."
Off to one side from their spar, Ossian can see Adreano scratching out bits of poetry in a notebook he got in Paris.
"Were you taken from Clervaux?" Ossian asks.
Then Ossian turns to Adreano: "No poetry without an audience. Will you let us listen?"
"I'm not getting anywhere," Adreano says sulkily. He closes the book and crosses his arms.
Firumbras takes the opportunity while Ossian is distracted to touch him lightly with the blade, more of a pay attention than even a love tap of the sort one of his cousins might give him. "No. Idraote, the sorcerer who betrayed me, I have always suspected of being of the order of the Eye in the Pyramid. To the extent that Clervaux was of them, which is debatable, I might say that I was taken by one of them. But I believe that Idraote was acting on his own initiative, and Armida was swayed by him."
"You make me curious". Ossian says taking up the fencing again. "When did this happen? Were you still in the service of the King of Paris."
"I was," Firumbras allows, "and still am, although the king has changed. I am told that many centuries have passed since that time, for all that it seems no time at all has passed. I was prisoned in a silver chain, or so I am told."
If Firumbras has the patience, Ossian will ask him about details of Clervaux, even how the city (is it a city?) is layed out, to make the Shadow shifting more effective.
For him this is a relatively recent set of memories, compared to the hundreds or maybe even thousands of years other people have had to forget everything about Clervaux except what's in that single painting. Firumbras isn't an artist and Ossian isn't a police sketch artist, but with some effort and some paint or at least some charcoal, Ossian can begin to get some idea of what the place might have looked like before its demise.
Ossian will ponder his sketches for a day, (a process that might annoy his travelling companions). Then he will start shifting towards somthing that might be the ruins of Clervaux, taking a long route, far away from Xanadu. Every few days he will try Reid's trump. Does he detect any change in the trump (non?)contact?
Firumbras spends the day hunting and preparing what he hunts for travel as best he can. Adreano is not happy with his poetry, and spends a lot of time looking at sketches hoping for inspiration.
Nothing about the failed Trump contacts changes over time or as they approach what Ossian thinks must be Clervaux. Does Ossian have any particular plans for the approach to Clervaux?
Sneaking. Ossian and friends does not want to be seen until they know more about the place. Is it still populated? How are the surroundings? What does the place look like?
As they approach, off-road, they stop on a hill and Sir Firumbras takes out a spyglass. Through the glass, they examine what appears to be the ruins of Clervaux. The place appears to be deserted, overgrown, in ruins. They can see the road that approaches Clervaux, also overgrown.
On the road, Ossian and Firumbras can see what looks like the remnants of a caravan, burnt out. It looks more recent than the overgrowth because they can see where it was burned away and has started to come back.
Someone or something is moving in the remains of the caravan.
"Let's find out what that moving thing is. " Ossian and team approaches cautiously. They do not draw their swords but are ready to do so if needed.
As they get closer, they can see it's a human figure of some sort, cloaked and helmed, looking through the ruins of the caravan. Whoever it is--Ossian thinks a woman from the shape of her--is armed, and using a blade to poke through burned-out wagons.
"May I borrow that bow of yours?" Ossian asks Firumbras. "Be prepared" he cautions.
Ossian knocks an arrow to the bow and raises it half way, before shouting "Stranger! Identify yourself, and this can end peacfully."
The woman rises to her feet. "Who are you, stranger, and why do you threaten me? What business is it of yours who travels in this place?" She doesn't seek shelter just yet, although her body language suggests to Ossian that she might break for cover depending on his answer.
"Forgive me my rudeness, but meeting someone armed, in an obvious place of violence does spur my paranoia." Ossian says "I would much rather exchange information than blows."
"You're the one pointing a weapon," she points out, not without justice. "But since you have the advantage of me: I am Regenlief, formerly of Valhalla, and of no place in particular since the End Times. Who are you, stranger, and who is your companion?"
Ossian lowers the bow, and moves closer "We come most recently from Paris. I am Ossian and my friends here are Sir Firumbras and Adreano the poet. Is Valhalla in Asgard? I have met people from there."
"Valhalla was in Asgard, but I know not whether it survived the End of Days; I was far from Asgard during Ragnarok." That Ragnarok has already happened seems a certainty to Regenlief. She undoes her helm and removes it, one-handed, showing that she's a handsome woman with long, dark hair plaited in a familiar style. "Well met, Ossian and Adreano and Sir Firumbras. Who do you know from Asgard?"
Firumbras unhelms and bows deeply to the lady. Adreano remembers to bow when Firumbras prompts him with a mailed elbow.
Ossian smiles and bows "Well met indeed. My Cousin Brita is from Asgard. Do you know her?"
Ossian looks at the burnt out caravan. Does it look like it was burnt by ordinary fire?
As best as Ossian can tell, it was ordinary fire, but it was also burnt a long time ago. If this is Reid's caravan, some long time has passed here since it was taken.
Regenlief shakes her head. "I do not know her, but I have been far from Asgard for some years. Was she born after the end of days, do you know? I haven't been home since then."
"No, before. But time is a tricky thing. How long have you been away?"
"A long while as even a Valkyrie counts time. I don't know your measures, but I would say decades, perhaps even centuries."
Sir Firumbras has moved off down the caravan, as if examining the place on his own, or looking for Reid in the debris. There do not seem to be any corpses that Ossian can see.
Ossian nods. "Brita is not that old. She could very well have been born after you left. Are you on a mission? Or why did you leave? You don't have to answer if you don't want to."
"My mission is long since completed, and I have lost my way home. I'm not sure it's home any more after the end of the--"
It's Adreano that cuts her off. "Ossian," he says, and he's scrambled halfway back up to the high point from which they confronted Regenlief. "There are people coming. A lot of them. Armed."
"The White Brothers! Damn! We must move, and quickly. Have you got horses?" Regenlief puts her helm back on, clearly ready for a fight.
Ossian smiles "I believe there are horses behind those trees. Four of them to be exact. Follow me." He takes off running.
Adreano skids down the hillside, with rocks loudly tumbling around him. Firumbras moves to cover the retreat, and Regenlief falls in with him, clearly comfortable with the weapon in her hand and with fighting alongside a man.
The horses are where Ossian expects them to be, caparisoned in surprisingly Asgardian-looking gear. He can see the riders coming into view around a bend in the road as Adreano mounts up. Firumbras holds the line as Regenlief leaps into the saddle.
Then the mounted men are among them. There is no way they could have travelled that distance in that time given the speed at which they were moving.
"Sorcery!" cries Firumbras, as Regenlief wheels into battle with the mounted men.
One of the horses move closer to Ossian, and he mounts with a smooth jump, drawing his sword in the same motion. He will mainly defend himself, while trying some Shadow manipulation.
His main idea is that the ground around the place where "his" horses are is patchwise very muddy and slippery, so when the White riders are carried there by their momentum, their horses will hopefully fall.
As soon as that happens Ossian will switch more into offensive.
Ossian wrenches the reality of the shadow around him in a moment, which is all he has, and the damp ground seems muddier. The horses find their footing unsure--including Regenlief's, since there's no way to stop the White riders without also getting hers--and they all compensate as best they can. Regenlief is an accomplished rider, and manages easily, but the White riders collectively are not so lucky.
The effort does buy time for Sir Firumbras to mount up, muttering something about charging onto lances that Ossian can't quite hear.
Then the ground beneath them firms again, as if someone has done something to reverse Ossian's effort. Some way back, there's a robed rider; this, Ossian suspects, is the sorcerer Firumbras mentioned.
Ossian frowns, and tries to remove himself from the worst fighting. "I'll try to do something about the soreceror" he says.
Then he tries to visualize the Pattern in his mind. His goal is to infest the place, specifically the sorceror, with so much reality that the sorcery stops working.
Regenlief and Firumbras move to cover Ossian's retreat as best they can. Ossian begins to concentrate on stopping the Sorcerer, bringing a vision of the Pattern to mind. He's not strong enough to bring it the whole way to mind, but he can see the outline, make out the great curves and veils, and he can feel that even if he's not stopping the sorcerer completely, he's limiting the effect the sorcerer is having.
The problem is that he's not in a well-protected area, and Regenlief and Firumbras, while they're both masterful fighters and probably better than any single one of the white-robe's minions, are sorely outnumbered. Also, Ossian has completely lost track of Adreano in the fray. They really need to get out of there, but to flee, Ossian would have to drop his defense against (or attack against, depending on your point of view) the sorcerer.
Ossian shakes out of his concentration. He looks for Adreano. Does he see Adreano?
"This is no good. " he shouts. "Follow me."
Ossian manouevers to a position where he can scan for the poet. Firumbras and Regenlief protect his flanks.
For the moment, Ossian has a respite, but there is no where obvious to go. However, the attackers don't seem interested in getting close enough to get killed.
After a few moments of fruitless searching, Adreano turns back up.
He's being held at sword point by the robed men, and they're presenting him to Ossian. He's too far away for Ossian to take direct action.
The sorcerer's voice sounds like gravel over water, as if Thari was not in his first language. "Surrender, Tharl, or we kill your servant!"
Ossian's companions seem unhappy, but willing to follow Ossian's lead.
Ossian nods. "I have no idea what you mean by Tharl, but I certainly don't want you to kill my friend." He sheaths his sword.
Regenlief looks disturbed, but they're outnumbered and with Adreano's life on the line, she's willing to stand down. So is Firumbras, who seems only slightly less unhappy than Regenelief to surrender his weapons. Then they move to Ossian and disarm him as well.
[Assuming he cooperates]
They tie Ossian and his three friends up and mount them up on their horses, and tie the horses together. The sorcerer is keeping an eye on Ossian to make sure he doesn't try anything to get away (and will stop Ossian if he tries to manipulate probability subtly).
"Where did you come from, and why are you here?" the sorcerer asks in that same gravelly voice.
"I most recently came from a place called Paris." Ossian says. "Who are you?"
The name Paris stills the sorcerer for a moment. "That is not your concern. What were you doing in Paris? Why were you there?"
"So, you are in a position to threaten me and my friends. I do for many reasons think you will benefit more from an exchange of information than from whatever you can force me to tell you."
"And who are you to think that?" the sorcerer demands to know. Ossian feels that his answer to this question will govern his future treatment, based on the undercurrent of excitement in the gravelly voice.
"I am Ossian, son of Brennan, son of Brand of Amber. " Ossian's mouth twists "although my loyalty is not to my Grandfather."
There is a long pause. "And who are your companions? We know the woman."
"Adreano is a poet from Amber, and Firumbras is a knight of Paris. It would be interesting to know why you attacked us."
"Because you were associating with a known enemy of the Klybesians," the voice explains, noticeably more politely than before Ossian explained who he was. "If you will swear not to attack us, you may be released."
Ossian frowns. "Would that offer extend to my companions too?"
"To your poet, and your knight, if they also give their word." The sorcerer pauses, then asks, "Is your knight also of your lineage?"
Ossian shakes his head "Not as far as I know. What has Regenlief done to aggravate you so towards her?"
"She betrayed us," the voice says, "as she would betray you if you trusted her." He pauses, considers perhaps. "We will travel now, and when we arrive at our destination we will release you from your bonds."
Ossian frowns and nods. "We will talk more about Regenlief later. I do consider her to be under my protection for the time being, but understand that you want to keep her in bonds."
"Very well."
The ride is long and Ossian cannot really tell where they're going. If they pass through a shadow veil, it's a subtle enough transition that Ossian can't tell. But the weather and temperature where they end up seems to have enough differences to the place they left behind that it's possible. They ride up a mountainside that Ossian doesn't seem to remember being anywhere near Clervaux and into a courtyard where they are greeted by more people who are garbed like the sorcerer.
Regenlief is taken into custody and whisked away. She doesn't seem to be injured, but she's clearly not very happy about the situation.
They unbind Ossian and Adreano (who looks very wide-eyed about this whole business) and Firumbras, who just looks disgruntled. "Welcome," their captor says, "to our Abbey."
The sign marked in the door is the Eye in the Pyramid.
Ossian glances at Firumbras. How does he react to the symbol?
Firumbras recognizes it. It's not a happy recognition.
[Ossian] smiles wrily. "Thanks, I guess. So what is the name of this place?"
"It is the chief abbey of our order. You may know us as the Klybesian Order, Ossian of Amber." Now that their hoods are pulled back, Ossian can see that the sorcerer is wearing a full face mask, effectively concealing his identity.
Ossian smiles a little. "I have heard of you. Maybe this is fortunate. I am looking for my cousin, Lord Reid, who very well could have passed here."
Tragedy, for that is the nature of the mask, shakes his head slowly. "His passing had nothing to do with us."
"I certainly hope so." Ossian says. "What happened?"
"It seems we have information to trade, then. Will you enter, and trade with us?" This seems to put the encounter more on the track that the sorcerer expects; behind the mask of Tragedy, Ossian can hear that the man is smiling.
Ossian nods "We will trade. I will enter." he turns to Firumbras "You may stay outside if you want to."
"I will not enter into that accursed place unless you command me, Lord Ossian. King Corwin bid me protect you, and I have failed, but I would fail you further if I did not tell you that when I spoke of a woman and a sorcerer, this was one such." Firumbras gestures at Tragedy.
Ossian nods. "I have heard your warning, and don't expect you to follow me here. Don't count this as failure yet."
"I will go with you," Adreano says. "And I will make a song of your exploits."
Ossian grins darkly. "I hope I will be able to let you sing it."
With that he enters.
"I hope," he hears Firumbras say as the doors close behind him, "you'll live to." Then the doors slam shut and Ossian and Adreano are inside.
They are escorted to a chamber to refresh themselves. There is food and water and a basin to wash the dust of the road from their bodies. There are white robes, which Tragedy advises them are the traditional wear of the supplicants, for them to don.
Ossian will follow Tragedy's advise. If he and Adreano are alone, Ossian will try to Trump Marius.
Ossian shuffles out Marius' card and concentrates on it. After a little while, the contact forms. "Who's there?" Marius asks. Ossian thinks he might be in Amber from the surroundings.
Ossian speaks quietly. "Ossian. I am with the Klybesian monks, and wonder if you have any wise advise. They seem to have information on Reid that I need."
Adreano is torn between watching the exchange between Ossian and the Trump on the one side and keeping watch on the door for their safety on the other.
"What you probably need is a quick escape, if my experience is any guide," Marius says. He does not offer one, though. "Don't stand on the shield if you can help it. I don't know what they do to unsuccessful supplicants, exactly, but they fall through a trap door. And wear your arms under your robe. What do you mean to offer in exchange for whatever they know about Reid?"
"I'm not sure. Maybe the story of Lucas. I don't know how they value information or what they want to know."
"They'll like that," Marius says sourly. "They test you in the Star Chamber to see if you have anything, but hold the specifics until you've passed that. I offered them such tales and the story of the rise of Xanadu, but I never fulfilled that bargain. Obviously. But be careful what you tell them. The one with whom I left suggested that information you give them about our family is a danger to us."
Ossian nods. "Thanks for that advise. Wish me luck, cousin."
"Good luck. If you need a quick trump out, I'll try to keep my mind open."
"That's good to know. Some people under my protection will die if I escape that way. I hope that will not happen.
"Good bye for now, dear cousin."
The connection closes, and Adreano is looking at Ossian. "Did you find anything useful out?"
"Oh yeah. We might have a way out if we really need it. You should also not stand on the shield. But my impression was that they will trade honestly."
"What shield?" Adreano asks. "And what do you think they'd take from me?" His eyes are shining with excitement. This trip is clearly the most interesting thing that's happened to him since the Sundering, and that was not what anyone would call a good kind of exciting.
"I am not sure on what my cousin meant with the shield. We'll find out, I guess. " Ossian grins "What do you want to give them? I'd offer poetry."
"That's what I have, unless they want a detailed list of the charms of Princess Florimel." Adreano grins and elbows Ossian. "I imagine you'll have quite a bit to trade."
"Most of it is not suitable for trade. I will be walking on a very thin line. You could possibly tell them about Paris. Or the church we visited there. But start with poetry."
"I will," Adreano says, and starts to say something else, but he's interrupted by a swift knock on the door.
A masked brother (presumably) shows his masked face and asks, "Are you ready? The appointed hour is upon you. If you would trade, come forth." He looks at Ossian with interest, having dismissed Adreano with a skeptical glance.
Ossian smiles and steps forward. He knows Adreano is brave enough to decide for his own if he too wants to trade.
Adreano thinks about it, weighing what he has to offer for what he could get. Ossian can see the struggle on his face, as he thinks, and then thinks better of it. "I'll wait, thank you," he finally says, and stays where he is.
The shift of the masked brother's shoulders betrays satisfaction in his expectation to Ossian. "Let's go, then," he tells Ossian, and leads him out into the hall.
Ossian gives Adreano a nod. On the way out Ossian asks the brother "I understand this will be ceremonial. What shall I expect? I put much value into such things and do not want to disturb the ceremony. What is expected of me?"
"You will be asked your name, what you seek, and what you offer. If you can make a bargain with the council of elders, then you will leave the Star Chamber and make the exchange. I expect you will make such a bargain. Unless you have much less information than I imagine a scion of Amber to have, you will undoubtedly find a price agreeable to both the council and yourself. They grant you the privilege of meeting immediately, without waiting for the usual time of supplicants."
The brother seems very impressed by that last fact.
"That seems easy enough. What happens if we don't reach a bargain?"
There's a moment's hesitation, then the masked figure says, "You will make a bargain. I am confident of it."
"Good" Ossian says. "Let's do this, then."
Ossian is brought into a round chamber with a star on the ceiling. On one side of the room is a dais, with several masked figures seated at it. There is a shield in the center of the room, and Ossian's guide leads him to stand on it. He then bows at the figures on the dais, and departs.
"Supplicant," says a golden lion, "Name yourself."
"I am Ossian son of Brennan, son of Brand son of Oberon of Amber."
"What do you seek?" asks a hawk-masked figure.
"I want to know what has happened to my cousin Reid, and where I can find him."
Ossian pauses for a second. " I also want to know what you know about the woman in your custody, Regenlief. "
There is a pause, and then the face of Tragedy asks, "Three queries. What do you offer in exchange?"
"For Reid's fate I offer the story of my cousin Lucas. For Reid's whereabouts I offer the whereabouts of his daughter. For Regenlief, well I will tell you how king Random will evacuate the population of Amber."
The monks spend some time talking in a language unknown to Ossian. From the tone he has no trouble guessing that they're arguing about whether to take deal offered, or do something else. The holdup isn't clear to Ossian.
Finally, the hawk speaks. "Ossian son of Brennan, son of Brand son of Oberon of Amber, you may enter and trade. But be warned. The last of your kindred to deal with us was faithless. We will deal with you as you deal with us."
There is a door on the far side of the room with the sign of the eye in the pyramid. It opens; clearly Ossian is supposed to go in that direction.
Ossian smiles. "I will trade fairly, if you do. Know, however, that should something happen to me there will be vengeance." He walks towards the open door.
After Ossian passes through the door, it slams shut behind him.
Ossian finds himself in a hallway leading away from the examination chamber. As he walks down the hall, he can see doors on either side every so often. The third door on the right is open, and Ossian can see a light shining from within as he approaches the doorway.
A hooded figure sits at a desk. The candelabra on the desk is the source of the light in the hallway. A rough stool stands on the floor between the entrance to the chamber and the desk. The room itself has bookshelves and a few other items, but nothing that Ossian would consider personal; it's as if this is an office that different people use.
The hooded figure is wearing the mask of Comedy, to match the Tragedy Ossian saw on the dais. "Please," he says, his voice a little muffled by the mask, "seat yourself, Ossian Brennanson. Here we will exchange what we have agreed." He's a tall fellow, even seated behind the desk. He doffs the mask, setting it aside on the bookshelf next to the desk. Beneath the mask he is pale and blond, with piercing blue eyes and high cheekbones. "I am Brother Hannibal. Let us exchange the knowledge you seek."
"Ok," Ossian says "I am already bored. Where do we start?"
Hannibal's pale cheeks spot with color, and he looks hard at Ossian, a look that Ossian has no trouble deciphering as some combination of annoyance and incredulity. (He doesn't seem like a sensitive new age guy at all, Ossian.)
"You wish to know of your kinsman Reid and where you may find him. In exchange you offer the story of your cousin Lucas and the whereabout of Reid's daughter. Name the daughter and tell me where she is, and I will tell you of Reid."
To Ossian, despite Hannibal's annoyance, he seems to be on the level.
Ossian raises an eyebrow. "The name was not offered. But maybe fair enough. She is Jasmine, and is currently in Xanadu under the protection of King Random."
Something that might be disappointment flickers in Hannibal's eyes. "Very well. Your kinsman Reid was murdered by parties unknown. His companion is with us and will not tell us who committed the crime. His body has been buried in the abbey with honors; when we are finished, you may visit his tomb."
Ossian nods. "I would appreciate that. I can try to speak with his companion."
"Her name," says Hannibal, perhaps feeling this is an equitable exchange for the name of the child, "is Papillon. Now I would hear the story of your cousin Lucas."
Ossian nods. "Lucas was born a few hundred years ago by the Princess Florimel. As far as I know, few knew about him until Gerard's regency, where he was a member of the council.
"Although he did valuable work for the council, he was probably best known for his quick wits and many women. Everyone was surprised when he decided to marry Solace, who bore one of his children. We had expected someone more... spicy. She was weak and almost didn't survive her second pregnancy, and was prone to bad fainting spells. Lucas seemed to love her though.
"After a few years a rumour started to spread that Solace actually was of Amber blood. Lucas bade me test this with old family magic. And so I did, not knowing that I would cause another one of those faintings. This made me wonder who was behind the other fainting spells, and Lucas assured me he did not know.
"He probably deceived me there. He was capable of doing the magic himself, as I found out later, but did not tell me. Some time later he moved to Paris, the realm of Prince Corwin. To Paris came also Moire the refugee queen of Rebma. There must have been some enmity between her and Lucas, as he was murdered with mirror lore as he was preparing to use the same magic that hurt Solace on Moire.
"That is the story of Lucas."
Hannibal listens with fascination, nodding and hmming at various points in the story. His face lights up with the story of Solace and the fainting spells and the family magic in a way that ought to be worrisome.
"Now I will tell you some of the things we know about Regenlief, and you will tell me how Random means to move the people from Amber, and then I will tell you the rest. Regenlief is a Valkyrie from Asgard. She left that place many years ago and has wandered the worlds as we do, sometimes working with us and sometimes against as a sellsword. Of late she has worked against us, which is why she is in our custody. Tell me of Random and how the people will leave Amber," Hannibal says.
"The plan Random has is to move a lot of people by painting magic. With the assistance of a family member they will walk through a big canvas, and end up in a room in Xanadu. No one knows how many will be able to use this method."
Hannibal's eyebrows arch up as he listens. Ossian suspects from Hannibal's expression that Hannibal has some idea of what Ossian means by "painting magic".
"Regenlief is also the mother of a child by an Amberite, a child that was lost in Shadow. We are not certain of the father, though we have our guesses. Nor do we know what became of the child," Hannibal says. "We hope to find out from her, though."
Ossian remains calm. "I am quite certain that I will be able to find out both child and father if I take her to Xanadu. But I guess you're not allowed to make that kind of bargain on your own?"
Hannibal shakes his head in the negative. "I can bargain for the information, but I cannot authorize her release on my own recognizance. Do you wish to bargain for her release?"
Ossian winces. "Yes. I do."
"Very well. What do you offer in exchange for the custody of the woman Regenlief?" Hannibal asks, smiling and steepling his fingers. There is no indication of what price will be high enough.
Ossian sighs. "I offer a piece of painting magic. Depicting myself. I will have to paint it first of course."
"What could one do with this painting magic?" Hannibal asks. "What would be its purpose? What would you be expecting from us, if we were to have this magic of you?"
"The main use for it is as a way of reaching me. For instance you could contact me some time after I've left with Regenlief, and I will tell you what I have learned about her. It can also be used as a way of getting me here, possibly with some friends, if you need me. That would require my consent of course.
"I would require of you to keep it safe, and not to use it to hurt me."
"Of course not," Hannibal says, and he probably mostly even means it, Ossian feels.
Ossian does explicitly not mention reverse engineering. "So. Would such magic suffice?"
"I believe that would be an acceptable point of negotiation. If you will wait here, I will speak with my superiors."
[Assuming Ossian agrees.]
Hannibal rises and departs, leaving Ossian alone in the cell. There isn't much in the way of furniture, just the stool he's sitting on, the desk, whatever Hannibal was sitting on--presumably another stool--the candelabra used to light the place, and bookshelves with a few books on them.
Ossian rises and starts pacing the room. He will look at the books in the bookshelves.
It's a reference shelf, with tomes discussing the value of objects and how to determine them, with some reference to intershadow principles. Some of these are less "books" than bound manuscripts. There are also a number of books on negotiation. One of them is On the Manner of Negotiating with Princes by Francois de Callieres and it reminds Ossian of something Lucas might have read, or written.
When he goes to the shelf, Ossian can also see that there are closed drawers in the desk.
Ossian smiles as he sees the books. Then his curiosity takes over, and he quickly looks into one of the drawers.
This ... is more interesting. There are lots of things in here, all of which have been crammed in and left, as if whoever used the room hadn't cleaned out the drawers in a while. Paperwork and badges and such from all sorts of shadows, from parchments to torn-edged dot-matrix forms to plastic badges on lanyards. Ossian will have to spend some time picking through it to decide what he has, other than evidence that the Klybesians have their fingers in more shadows than Ossian might have previously suspected.
Ossian decides the risk is too high. He goes back to his chair, and pulls out his sketch book. He will make a quick drawing of himself in the room. The idea is really to make a drawing of the room as a way to memorize it, while pretending to make a self portrait as a preparation for the sketch he has offered the Klybesians.
Ossian is about halfway through the sketch when Hannibal returns. He glances at the sketchbook but doesn't comment on it. Settling back into his place behind the desk, Hannibal doesn't seem to notice that anything is out of place, if it is.
"The painting is an agreeable point of negotiation. I am instructed to ask," he adds, "what else you might be able to paint?"
Ossian smiles. "I think that is a relevant question, but I will not give the answer casually, but a a part of a bargain."
Hannibal looks some combination of pleased and disappointed. "Very well. What information do you seek in exchange for that knowledge?"
"Of that I am not sure. Why don't you make me an offer?"
"Information about Regenlief," Hannibal immediately suggests.
"That could be vaulable to me." Ossian says. "But you need to be a little more specific on what kind of information you have on her."
Hannibal looks smug. "We know much about her origins and her ancestry, and about her travels since she left that place."
"So. Would your knowledge of her travels and her origins, be a fair price for me telling you about the limitations of my art?" Ossian asks.
There is a long pause, during which Hannibal assumes a calculating mien.
"An overview of what we know, for the general breadth and limitations," he finally says.
Ossian smiles "That sounds reasonable. You start by telling me half of what you know. Then I will tell you about my art. And the you will tell me the rest."
"Very well." Hannibal sits up straighter behind the desk. "The woman Regenlief is a Valkyrie of a place called Asgard, descended of the so-called gods of that realm. She departed it when she was young, and travelled to many places as a sell-sword, not least the city of Reme. It was there that one of the brethren of the Order bought her services and she came into our orbit. She worked with us for many years."
And there he pauses, to let Ossian speak, or perhaps to ask questions.
"Do you know what Asgard god she's descended from?" Ossian asks.
"The line of descent is tangled," Hannibal says. "We have guesses. How familiar are you with the genealogy of Asgard?"
"Somewhat. I have heard some from my cousin Brita, so I think I know most of her ancestry, but otherwise my knowledge is thin."
Hannibal nods. "Through the line of Bestla. Of semi-divine blood."
Ossian nods too. "So. What can I paint? Given that I am familiar enough with a place I can make a magic painting of if. Easiest is places I know very well. A place I have seen only briefly is almost impossible to paint. The same for people. Although I have only been able to paint blood members of the royal family. It is considered as a means of determining if someone is of Amber blood."
"Really?" Hannibal asks, a bit skeptically. "How exactly does one use a painting to determine the blood of Amber?"
"If I can paint a working magic painting the person is of Amber blood. If I can't, well, then either I do not know the person, or she's not of Amber blood. Not an exact science."
Hannibal considers that and nods, again, slowly. "You have seen the paintings fail in that way, then? We could not consider ourselves compensated by a card that does not function."
"I offered you a card depicting myself. I will be able to make one of those. Do not worry."
"Very well. One last question." Here Hannibal pulls out a quill and ink and prepares to write. "What materials will you need to prepare the card? And if there are any special materials, how may they be procured?"
Ossian smiles. "I do not need anything special per se, but high quality paper and non-fading colours, best would be mineral-based. Bring me what you got and I'll see if I absolutely need something else.
"Now, what more do you have on Regenlief?"
"During her travels, she dallied with a man of Amber blood, otherwise unknown to us, and bore a child. She took the child into shadow and lost it, out of our purview. It was about at this time that she turned against us and made herself our enemy, for reasons unknown to us. We have pursued her since, and now we have found her," Hannibal concludes.
Ossian nods. "Interesting. Have you any description of the Amberite?"
Hannibal shakes his head in the negative. "The shadows lied for him."
Ossian nods. "I think it's time to move on. Give me a day for the painting. Then I will exchange it for Regenlief."
"Very well. We will provide the materials and a place in the scriptorium for you, and once the painting is complete, we shall release Regenlief into your custody."
Ossian is guided to a place in the scriptorium where he can paint. He asks for a mirror, which he will keep covered for most of the time, but uncover now and then to get a better view of himself. He takes his time painting the sketch (his goal is to make a high quality sketch, but not a closed trump). As he's quite sure he is being watched, he will do some elaborate unnecessary moves. He is in no hurry. He will also send a note to Adreano telling him that Ossian is ok.
Adreano sends a return note asking what is happening.
The materials are beautiful, if to Ossian's eyes a bit old fashioned even for trump work. If he wishes, he can gild the lily, or at least the trump sketch, with gold leaf, as well as the brilliant inks and paints the brothers work with.
It takes him a day to make the sketch, unless Ossian does something out of the ordinary.
Ossian cannot help himself. Of course he will gild some parts of the painting, and play around with the inks. If it takes a few hours more, no problem. He sends a note to Adreano : Painting.
Once he has completed the painting, Hannibal will take it. And then they will go to dinner.
Last modified: 26 February 2013