After catching things up with Droit and figuring out who else from Amber/Xanadu is left in the underwater realm Fletcher decides to get on with his visit. While sorting out his accommodations he runs into his fellow traveler Dignity. Fletcher asks the squire the whereabouts of Sir Brennan, and fortuitously joined in purpose the two head out in search of the Ruby Knight.
Brennan, as it turns out, is not difficult to find. If the Rebman pages are at all competent, they'll know that Brennan is engaged in survey work, of the kind sappers and other combat engineers perform. And if they don't, Dignity knows that much, too. Knowing that, he's not hard to track down-- what he's doing isn't even a secret, much less a state secret.
As they find him, he is leaving the palace to engage in an impromptu spot-check of the progress so far. When he sees them, he slows down to turn and greet them. "Sir Fletcher, Dignity! It's good to see you in less... contentious... circumstances!"
By his hesitation, he's leaving it up to Fletcher to decide if they should stay in the palace, or proceed out into the city.
Dignity bows, but his grin is immense. It's the last vestige of the young squire Brennan had at his side in Chaos. Dignity is still young, but he's not the boy he was.
Fletcher gestures toward the gates. "Mind if we join you? I'm anxious to catch up on current recent events. I was traveling when everything went down."
"By all means," Brennan says. "I'll trade you for news of above-- we've touched based with Kings Random and Corwin, but those weren't social calls. You must have some of the details already-- Corwin wouldn't have sent you along with Silhouette, without briefing you."
Once they're out of the palace proper, Brennan leads them out toward the battlements and up to inspect them.
Dignity falls in with the two Lords, and seems most interested in the battlements. While he doesn't seem interested in the news, he's not uninterested, either.
Fletcher surveys the area as they walk. He talks purposefully but keeps his tone down to avoid any casual eavesdropping. "I set out from Xanadu in something of a hurry to get to Rebma and meet our cousin who would be Queen. Random wanted someone who hadn't been involved in the recent conflicts to have an informal word or two, that might eventually lead to formal words. The ride from Xanadu to Paris isn't as swift as it could be, but I'm working on understanding the revised shape of the Faella-Bionin and hope to improve things. I've got a bit of news of Paris, but you've probably already heard what news I have from Xanadu. Random swore in a new cousin. His name is Raven. I'm, of course, more curious about the state of the Pattern here, and what the heck happened to Khela."
Brennan slows down a little, and lets Dignity get some distance on them-- enough that when Brennan keeps his own voice down, Dignity won't hear anything he's not supposed to hear.
"State of the Pattern is not clear. You can feel its influence for yourself," Brennan says quietly, taking it for granted that Fletcher can do just that, "and the Faiella-Bionin still leads here. Celina walked it. Those are good signs. And if there's anything actually specifically wrong with it..." he spreads his hands, in a Sorcerer's shrug.
"On the other hand, Khela died walking it. And I've heard too many strange tales about Rebma recently to be entirely easy about it. I expect most of that you already knew, too, if you came by way of Paris," Brennan says. When talking about Khela, his voice is flat and toneless.
Fletchers nods, and notes Brennan's reticence.
Turning to face Brennan, Fletcher continues quietly. "I'm not sure there's a great place anywhere in Rebma to have this kind of conversation, which is why I opted for mobility. I'm here as a favor to Random, but I also have concerns regarding how the previously-established Patterns are adapting to the more recent additions. At some point I'd like to actually see the Pattern here, but this is all messily tied up in other horridness. The more I hear about what Huon did, the more I wonder if it's possible to punish him enough. And then Khela and now Celina were left to hold things together. Did you actually witness Khela's Pattern walk?"
"Wise," Brennan says, in an equally low voice. Dignity should know enough to be on point as well. "I know Random isn't going to sanction an execution, and dealing with another death curse is not on my agenda," Brennan says. "So, no, I don't think it's possible to punish him enough."
For a moment, it seems as though that's all Brennan will say, but then he continues. "Yes. I was there. It wasn't part of the plan. The plan-- my plan-- was to get there, and carefully examine it, not rush forward. If anyone was going to do a potentially lethal experiment, I intended it to be me." Another pause. "When the sparks died down, she just... wasn't there. Never made it to the center."
"I understand she hadn't attempted it before. Do you know what the reason she chose to try now? I understand it isn't a prerequisite for the throne here."
"It's not a requirement because here, as in the other Realms, very few people even know about it. But maybe it should be. Why did she try it? She thought she could, being a daughter of Llewella. And she had the opportunity, being in front of it," Brennan says.
After a moment, "I can't really say I'd have done differently. I'm the one who ran off and braved Tir-Na Nog'th, after all."
Dignity has moved away from where Brennan and Fletcher are talking to give them privacy. Now he calls out, "Sir Brennan," and gestures to where some land-dwellers are coming down from Paris. It takes him a moment to focus and recognize them as Brita and Ambrose.
Brennan nods to Dignity, and scans the road leading from Rebma to the Paris Veil, and recognizes them about the time Brita is raising her hand to wave. Brennan waves back, and says to Fletcher, "I think you've met Brita, Fiona's daughter, already-- at the Family Council, if nothing else. The man with her is Ambrose, my younger brother."
There's some bemusement in his tone-- he certainly hadn't expected them to appear. Brennan evidently prefers to continue the conversation with Fletcher, since they've taken some pains to isolate themselves from eavesdroppers; he does not motion to join them or intercept them, although he'll certainly join them later.
Fletcher looks a bit surprised. "Ah yes. I thought they were going on mission with Bleys."
"Fast shadow, perhaps? It's the sort of thing I'd want to do far from here, maybe even on the other side of the Tree," Brennan muses, then gives a slight shrug-- they'll find out when they return to the City.
"What did you think of our other new cousin, Flora's girl?" Brennan asks.
"She sharp. Has a lot of ambition. As far as I can tell she wants to be everybody's friend, or at least ally. She seems to be coming up to speed with Court events quickly. Her history with Huon is... unfortunate. How does she strike you?"
"Well, she wants something from everyone," Brennan allows. "That's not quite the same thing as wanting to be everyone's friend. Beyond that... I'm not sure ambition is the right word, either. What do you think her ambitions are?"
"I'm not entirely sure. Power, or at least the understanding of power. Knowledge is good, but either she's not opening up to the family yet or she lacks heart. And power without heart isn't my idea of a good time. We'll see how she handles Rebma in mourning."
Brennan agrees with that so precisely that there's nothing more to do than nod, and let it go: The pursuit of power is not a suitable ambition.
"How many other cousins are down here?"
"To my knowledge? I think you know everyone who is here. You and I. Conner and Celina. Silhouette. Just now, Brita and Ambrose. Martin's girl, Meg, had been here, as was Hannah, but they've both recently departed. And Llewella's not a cousin of course, but she is Family and she is here," Brennan says.
"You mentioned scouting the geography between Xanadu and Paris?" he asks.
"Yes. I've ridden along the river from Paris to Xanadu and back again. I had a hunch that there would be some sort of natural path. It may be too early too tell, or perhaps it takes traffic to wear a path onto the scenery. Some way to travel between cities would certainly be useful for normal people. That's one disadvantage of relying too heavily on the trumps. A couple of trips won't open up a roadway, but it's a start. One of us could probably pick up the trail if they looked for it."
"One of us can, if they're looking," Brennan confirms, "and if they know what they're looking for."
By this time, they should be far enough from the City in the direction of the Paris Veil, that the Faiella-Bionin is detectable. Brennan slows, then stops, in evident concentration as though listening for something, taking a step perpendicular to their path, then another one. "Here," he says. "I can sense it here." Then more steps. "And here, this is about the middle of it, as I reckon."
Then, with less concentration, "There's a sort of a... gradient... of Order and Chaos. A faint pressure from Chaos toward Order. The Faiella-Bionin interferes with it, but it's subtle, this close to Rebma. Much closer to the City, and the City swamps it out. Farther, toward the Veil, it's more noticeable. I'd bet something of value that there's a link between Paris and Xanadu, and that if the link is on the ground one of us can find it without heroic measures... if for some reason Corwin and Random don't already know where they are," Brennan says.
"That's partly why I'm here, favors for Random aside. I'm wondering how that line of effect forms, so I thought I'd compare with other parts of the wall. I don't suppose you would know if they feel of it has changed since the reshuffling?" Fletcher concentrates briefly and focuses his awareness of the Pattern to more carefully study the gradient.
"No," Brennan says, after giving Fletcher some amount of time to reach out with his senses. "I've spent a long time curious about just exactly how the Faiella-Bionin works, but an even longer time out of circulation and too far away to study it directly. The question is taking on some new urgency, though. When you came through from Paris to here, there was at least one large chamber at least halfway through, yes? The last time I was there, it contained two objects I found disturbing: One of them was a mirror, reflecting the light of some other location. The other was, depending on where you stood and how the light hit it, either a natural stone formation, or a very carefully crafted statue depicting the Queen of Air and Darkness."
Dignity stops ahead to speak to a young page. He turns and interrupts the two Amberites.
"Your pardon, Lords. Word from the Castle. The Lady Silhouette has been summoned to Court. I assume Her Majesty wants you to attend, although the page did not so say. Is there a message back?"
Fletcher, lost in thought, or perhaps fixing the local feeling of the gradient in his mind, looks up suddenly. "Yes, of course. Duty calls." He turns to Brennan. "I'd like to work with you on building a road map, possibly dividing up the work. And the sculptures make me curious about how the road was built originally. But let's get this Huon business out of the way."
"Agreed-- it's got to be done. You, too, Dignity-- come with us to the palace, and don't be too far away." Turning back to Fletcher, Brennan says, "And yes, let's continue this conversation after court duties. I hadn't planned it this way, but I think my brother will have some good insights on the subject, as well."
[I'm mostly curious to know if Fletcher was successful in sensing the Faiella-Bionin.]
Fletcher can sense it. It seems fragile, but in the way of a thing that is growing, not a thing that is breaking.
Brita searches her mother's lab for the waterproof pack she knows is present. In it she puts the small notebook, pencils, and trump case she pulls from several pockets of her long red jacket. She then divests herself of jacket and drapes it neatly over a chair with one gentle pat of the soft white fur at the collar. Her blouse and pants remain, along with her leather boots. Her knife is now visible, tucked into a loop at her waist.
Ambrose also divests himself of a number of items and produces a waterproof, sealed bag for certain others. He doffs his heavy linen shirt, which would only hamper his movement in the water, but keeps the remainder of his clothes. (His trousers seem a bit less like jodphurs than Brita remembers them looking.)
When Ambrose is set, she nods and parts the veil, aiming for the largish chamber she remembers on the path from Paris to Rebma.
Brita parts the Veil and steps through into the chamber, with Ambrose following close on. She's pretty sure there's some backflow of water into her mother's lab, but she does have some sort of shadow minions to clean up. Since she has been to Rebma before, Brita has little trouble adjusting. It's quickly evident to Brita that Ambrose hasn't ever been underwater in Rebma or the Seaward before, because he starts coughing as the water fills his lungs.
Brita stands ready to get them back into air quickly if need be, but she says "Be Calm and Just Breathe. It is As If you were In Your Mother's Womb. Your Body will Remember How to Breathe Liquid Quickly."
Ambrose continues to cough, but his sorcerously-cultivated mental discipline keeps him from panicking and after a minute or so, he stops. He doesn't speak just yet, but concentrates on breathing evenly. He may be practicing an exercise of some sort, because he closes his eyes and his face shows some effort.
Brita glances around the chamber while Ambrose composes himself.
The chamber appears the same as on Brita's previous visit: the rock formations, the "throne", the rough floor, the entrances and exits where she expects them to be. Other than Ambrose's difficulties, which seem to be temporary and due to his inexperience with Rebma, everything seems to be normal.
[I don't know if we've ever posted any pictures of the parts of Natural Bridge caverns that this room is inspired by, but this is the throne.]
Once assured Ambrose is not immune to the nature of the airy water, Brita politely overlooks any further troubles he may be having. She begins speaking to distract him, "Mirror Rebma lies Through the Tunnel to Your Right; Reality Xanadu to Your Left. It is not a Far Walk to Cousin-Queen Celina's Palace from Here. This is Where we Camp on the Way Between Reality Xanadu and Amber's Reflection." She carefully does not mention anything about water. "We can Continue Now or Remain Here for a While."
"I'd rather go ahead and make our way to Rebma, if it's not too far." Having settled his breathing pattern, Ambrose is surveying the room. "I don't know what it is about this place, but something here makes me think of my father, and not in a way that suggests I should want to rest here."
Brita nods firmly although she gives a last wary glance around the chamber before leading the way towards Rebma. After they are on their way she asks, "What Reminded you of Your Father?"
Ambrose frowns. If Brita is looking at his feet, she can tell by the play of the leather of his boots that he's wiggling his toes inside them. "I cannot say, exactly. Obviously not the structure of the place; other than being made of stone, it has nothing in common with Uxmal. But there was a sense of power--not of anything I could see with the Third Eye--but a resonance, one that I associate with the kinds of work my father liked to do. As if the place had been the object of some kind of--manipulation? or something had been done there? I don't know. It's hard to say."
Brita notes, "The Chamber is On The Path between Shining Reality Paris and Watery Reality Rebma. Having Something or Someone Manipulating that Connection is Not Good. We need to Relay your Sense to Our Brothers - My Brother will need to Protect the Path and Your Brother - My Master may have Means to Determine What Manipulation has Occured."
They continue onward, coming out on the path above Rebma. Brita is expecting the guards and, after identifying themselves, relays their desire to meet with Lord Conner as soon as possible.
The guards send ahead to Queen Celina and Lord Conner and also to the Princess Llewella while they escort Brita and Ambrose to the city. As they move toward the city and the castle, they see what initially looks like it might be a patrol of three men, one on point and two behind. One of the men behind, based on what they can see of him in the distance, appears to be Brennan, or at least a reheaded man wearing Amber-type clothes in Brennan's colors.
Brita waves to Brennan but continues following the escort.
The guards escort Brita and Ambrose to the city and into the castle, where they are allowed to freshen up and given everything they need to meet the Queen. It has been a long day--a day's worth of walking since they arrived at the chamber halfway to Rebma--and so both of them are a bit tired and hungry. If they wish a quick repast, it can be arranged.
Dust is not a problem in Rebma. That's important since apparently no one has cleaned in here since Moire fled. The room is high and windowless, with a handful of glowing globes to give it a flickering light. Still, it's enough to see by.
The room holds a dozen stands for mirrors of different sizes, all of the highest quality. All have been smashed.
Except for one, with a seat in front of it.
"A clear invitation if ever I saw one." Conner murmurs. "What kind of trap do you think it is?" He asks idly moving around behind the mirror so he cannot be seen by it. Conner opens his Third Eye and examines the mirror to see if anything beyond mirror work is present.
The mirrors are of high-quality. The one that remains is real enough to show up to his third eye (impermanent, non-living things usually do not.) It occurs to Conner that using sorcery here should make mirror work more difficult, both theirs and anyone else who might use mirrors here.
"My," Celina sounds excited while she glances at the remaining mirror, "this is obvious." She examines the broken mirrors first to confirm the high quality of the work.
Just entering the room has set currents in play that have moved the smaller shards about, but the ones that seem large enough to use are on the floor or are easily covered.
After the scout, she makes sure the glass pieces still on the floor are all flat surface parallel to floor, not somehow set at an angle that would give a look at people in the room, she removes her flowing skirts to cover anything large or pointed at a wall.
"Moire must want to say something to me or Llewella. I cannot imagine anyone else taking the chance of walking in here and using the offered mirror. Llewella must have already seen this and has not commented or warned me." Celina respects Conner's scouting enough to wait until he speaks again to see what he may say.
"This mirror is Real, cousin." Conner warns. "I can see it in my mind's eye and I should not be able to. I mislike this very much. Could you tell if a trap lay within the mirror? By means other than tripping it of course." Conner clarifies with a wry grin.
"Well," Celina smiles back to Conner, warming to the repartee they seem to enjoy, "it would not be much of a trap if a young mirror wright could find it. But as you and I agree, this is obvious. Someone either felt this mirror too valuable to destroy, or the catastrophe that overtook some mirror effort here could not damage this mirror because it was the most stable. That would go along with your estimate it is real." Celina double checks her own examination of the large scraps of shards she has covered up on the floor. She glances at the ceiling as well, knowing the trickery of the third dimension and making sure no glass is fixed in the ceiling. "Or someone wants to leave a way back to here. This could be a transit mirror. They are risky but well within Moire's ability."
Celina has another thought. She removes the palm mirror she has on her person. Since she's made this one herself, she shows it to Conner. "Perhaps mirrors made by Family are more stable and real than other mirrors? What do you think of this little one?" Celina shows him a blue hazed glass with silver ocean waves lapping the circular edge.
To Conner's third eye, the little mirror is like a trump; it's real in the way of a minor artifact of Order. This mirror is somewhat like that.
"It looks much like a Trump would, a source of Ordered energies. Moire's mirror is similar." Conner reports.
Before Conner and Celina can proceed any further, a guard knocks on the door.
A human guard is at the door. "Your Majesty, Your Lordship: the Lady Brita of Amber and the Lord Ambrose of Uxmal have arrived at the gate. Lady Brita has requested to speak with her brother." There's not quite a sniffiness about the lack of protocol in the request for Conner instead of the Queen, but the minor breach has been recognized.
Celina will note that the "your lordship" dodge means that the guards haven't quite decided what title is appropriate for Conner. Possibly they think he's her paramour.
Celina doesn't think she shall be determining what every guard supposes and so she ignores the inventive language. Rebma is mystery. She will have These Guards escort Conner and she to the front of the palace to await her Family. She leads.
Celina sends a young page swimmer for Orseas. She's not sure why.
Conner falls in just behind the Queen most curious to see what brings his sister beneath the waves.
Conner and Celina close up the mirror chamber again and arrange for a meeting with Brita and Ambrose.
A mouse-scratch whisper seeps through the wall of sleep.
The dreamer ignores it, wrapped in dragon's wings. Onyx steel still glowing with forge's flame, razor edges cut flesh exquisitely. Crimson rivulets slither over soot-black breasts and belly, ashen kisses warming lips and tongue. Skin and soul penetrated by the sensual thrum of gears and steam. Immersed in the harmony of metal and thought; safe, content.
The mouse-scratch whisper comes again. Louder than the dragon's Song. It will not be denied much longer.
Silhouette wakes to a drowned world. She crushes the instinctual panic, remembering that she can breathe in this unsettling medium. She shifts to stare at the ceiling; body entangled in expensive, yet pointless, linens. A hint of musk and perfume lingers on them, stirring a tired smile. As her arm drapes over the bed, she finds the space beside her empty - a modest comfort.
Apparently, the meretrix - Cygnus, was it? - had been courteous enough to depart without causing further annoyance. She'd possessed a pedestrian beauty Silhouette found pleasing, somewhat heightened by the viridian flesh tones and yielding curves. Utterly bereft of sophistication - no hetaera, she - Cygnus had at least been skilled enough in her trade to expound upon the subtle intricacies of Rebman sexuality. A pillow book might have been more educational - and less troublesome - but one could only use the resources available to them. More's the pity.
Still, she'd been a brief reprieve from this damnable cold. That was worth the coin alone.
Silhouette yawns, stretching, finally sitting up. The mouse-scratch at the back of her mind comes again, unrestrained by the wall of sleep. A Trump, perhaps? The sensation is still foreign to her.
"Be welcome," she whispers to the darkened room.
Silhouette turns, and as her vision clears and adjusts to the darkness, she sees a shape on the bedpost. It turns towards her in the darkness, the mouse-scratching gets louder. The shape is an automaton, in the shape of a raven with blood-red wings and jewels for eyes. She reaches for it and it hops onto her hand.
The maw of the raven opens and a torrent of blood, far greater than what could be held in the device, sprays forth, covering Silhouette. She struggles against it, and the fear of drowning in blood is overwhelming, as is the smell.
Silhouette sits bolt-upright and awakens in the drowned world again, her heart pounding. The dream fades, but the smell of blood is still strong. Huon's actual blood-bird is in her bed-chamber, sitting on the bedpost.
Disgusted, Silhouette narrows her gaze at the bird, "For future reference, I prefer irises to arterial spray."
She slides from the bed, trailing her sheets behind her like diaphanous fins. Extending her palm, she beckons the creature over, "Come. And, I do hope your discharge is of a more vernacular nature this time, Raven."
The bird hops on her open palm and faces her wrist. He pecks her, hard, and drains like a drinking glass into her arm. The tattoo is back and an envelope is resting on her palm. There's a wax seal with Huon's crest embossed in it.
She lightly strokes the tattoo, smiling at its warm stirrings beneath her flesh. Her attention soon shifts to the envelope, the smile becoming a frown. "You do realize, Raven, that I don't know if this is to me or the Queen, yes? Well, too late now, I suppose. Let us hope you at least used water-resistant ink."
Gingerly, she cracks the seal to examine the contents.
Inside are two notes. "Excellent work," reads the first. "Please present the Queen my letter and negotiate any points she still wishes to discuss. Upon conclusion, she may send an escort to the Ambassador from Bellum to Asir Island and I will present myself to be escorted back to Rebma as befits a Prince. Unless the Queen wishes to send a trump via the blood-bird, in which case I will speak to her directly."
Silhouette allows herself a smile at Huon's praise. She memorizes his instructions and promptly destroys the note. Too many cousins are about for it to remain in existence.
Within is a second note.
My Dear Niece,
I Huon, Prince of Amber, Greet you.
I thank you for acceptance of my surrender. In exchange for the explicit protection you offer me from those who would harm me, I agree to the following terms.
1: I shall provide you information about my allies as you request.
2: I shall quit my claim against Prince Bleys of Amber, for the injustices done to me and to my family.
3: I shall act in the interests of the crown on projects as dictated in rebuilding Rebma for a period of two-and-twenty years.
4: I shall be a guest of the crown at court for the period of my parole. I shall, of course, expect the rights and prerogatives of a visiting Prince of Amber in Rebma, with the exception that I may not leave the City without Royal Consent.
While I would relinquish my trumps to the crown, I last saw them in the possession of the guards of Castle Amber. I would support your petition to Prince Caine to have them returned, but I fear my influence will be of little value in this matter.
This paragraph catches Silhouette's eye. Caine was in possession of an extra set of trumps - one's crafted by Huon, mostly likely? She wonders if a return trip to Amber might be in order.
Silhouette will provide details of my surrender if these terms are acceptable to you.
With a nod to herself, Silhouette folds the Queen's note and sets it aside. She goes to the door to page one of the servants. "Please inform the Queen that I have a missive from my patron," she informs them. "If I can meet with her at the earliest convenience, it would be appreciated."
Once the servant departs, she busies herself with getting ready for the day -- ever mindful of where Huon's note is and keeping it close.
A page comes to the door of Silhouette's chambers. She is dressed in the fashion of the Rebmans and has a light green complexion.
"My Lady, the Queen bids you attend her at Court."
In the hall behind her is one of the gigantic fish-men of Rebma.
At seeing the creature, Silhouette is suddenly reminded that she hasn't enjoyed her weekly nigirizushi for some time now. She dismisses the touch of homesickness as quickly as it comes.
With a pleasant smile, she nods to the attendant. "Of course. Please lead the way." She falls in beside the woman; her gaze drifting toward over to the fish-man. A warrior-breed, more than likely. As they walk, she makes a cursory study of the creature's body structure and movement, looking for weaknesses. When confronted with new races, it is always prudent to have some rudimentary knowledge of how to kill them.
With a lot of luck. The thing is more than 15' long from tail to tip; it has the top part of a man but from the waist down he's a fish with a long, muscular, armor-scaled tail. He carries a trident, a weapon that could be wielded to deadly effect underwater. Not to mention that if he were a man, he'd be well on the upside of six feet tall, and he's built like a blacksmith. Tritons: not to be trifled with.
Silhouette gives a low purr, "Delicious." What wondrous things she could do with a navy of such creatures at her command. These thoughts warm her as they continue their journey to court.
Celina and Conner are near the palace entry when Brita and Ambrose are escorted in, having moved from their investigations to welcoming Family as a priority. The Gallery population is probably less than a hundred people, but more than four dozen. Lots of interested eyes look Ambrose and Brita over closely even as they pretend to be busy with their own conversations. More eyes seem to linger on Ambrose than Brita.
Celina hugs each of them with equal finesse that seems to involve wrapping the arms about the shoulders and avoiding compressing the ribs.
Brita's return hug is a little more firm and she notes quietly in Celina's ear "I Grieve for You."
Ambrose is a bit awkward but returns Celina's embrace. Celina suspects he didn't grow up in a family of huggers.
[Celina] assumes the visit is not urgent from their expressions. "So glad to have unexpected visitors. Let's have something to eat and chat."
Conner is dressed in his usual court attire of green cut to allow for freer underwater movement. It would seem he is resisting going native. The Pattern Blade of Rebma hangs prominently on his hip. He hugs Brita warmly and offers Ambrose a firm hand clasp.
Ambrose returns the clasp. He seems to be noting Conner's tailoring style for future reference.
Celina leads all deeper into the palace. She has something in mind, for she leads the way to a prepared room with food and drink. She speaks to a guard in the hallway. "If Orseas arrives, please tell him I'll see him shortly." She directs Brita and Ambrose into the care of guards that take them to refresh themselves and return to this chamber.
A room is chosen for the meeting according to the Queen's request, and Brita and Ambrose are brought in after they have refreshed themselves and been offered garb according to the Rebman manner.
Ambrose has allowed the servants to present him with Rebman garb. He is wearing trunks that are green with gold accents and fittings. His feet are bare. His hair is too short to be braided but too long to be left loose by Rebman standards, and floats behind him when he swims. The look suits him. On his entrance, he looks to the others to set the level of formality in his greeting.
Celina has changed from the bronze silks and skimps she was wearing to investigate the mirrors to a emerald waterfall wrap that seems to circle her three times and despite that be translucent. It seems likely that all this material around her will tangle itself, but she seems comfortable and the wrap must have near zero weight for it behaves more like long hair might, drifting off her body in a cloud. Celina starts things off brisk and informal, "Well, here I thought Rebma would be a dissociation from Family doings and I'm delighted to be wrong. What brings you to the Deep and how may I help?"
Brita looks a little uncomfortable with the clothing. She shrugs and twitches the flowy bits of purple from one shoulder to the other, not quite sure where the trailing bits should go. "I Came to Discover How My Brother was Doing in Your Watery Realm and how You are Adjusting."
Celina smiles at Conner. "Actually, I'd be a bit lost right now if it was up to me. But with Conner and Brennan here and all the meetings and various interviews with the Most Important Families of Rebma, I've been too busy for many tears. When it gets very black in the night.... I can see her smile still. I think I'll be better soon enough." Celina reaches and squeezes Brita's hand. "And thank you for asking."
"I am doing as well as can expected with all of the new found responsibilities and intrigue to catch up on swiftly." Conner smiles. "How have things fared with you both since we've last met?" Conner asks.
"We have been beyond Ygg, and learned about the silver chain that was found with Queen Vialle. It apparently was a prison for a knight of ancient Tir. Garrett has taken him to Paris." Ambrose leaves the rest of the story for Brita to tell, or to turn the conversation to more personal matters if she wishes.
Brita nods in agreement. "We Parted the Veil to the Underwater Chamber on the Path from Bright Paris to Watery Rebma. Cousin Ambrose felt the Memory of His Father there."
There is a shadow across the bottom of the door, which is likely an indicator of a triton in the corridor.
Celina stands again, "Please excuse me, I won't be but a minute...." and she slides through the water to the door. She pulls it open and steps into the frame, looking at the Triton there. Once he tells her of Silhouette's desire to speak again regarding Huon she shows surprise. "Was there any additional news with this?"
The head shake affirms there was nothing else with a silent motion.
She nods and thanks the Triton for his service. "Please have the Lady brought to Court for audience. And pass word to Lord Brennan that I have summoned Silhouette to Court. He should likely be outside the walls." And she returns to the room, closing the door. Her walk back is slower, thinking over Silhouette's message and eyeing Ambrose in speculation. She decides to include Ambrose despite knowing little of him. She speaks to all of them. "Huon has responded to Silhouette regards our parlay. She's ready to discuss it but there are no details. She does not say even if the news is good or not so good. That's interesting." Celina stands between Ambrose and Brita, looking at Conner. "I do not seek to entangle you in Rebma politics cousins, but you are invited to hear what Silhouette has to say, This is Family business. I'll understand if you wish to stay some paces out of all this."
Celina looks at the three.
"You are welcome to my counsel," Ambrose says, "such as it may be. But--if I may speak freely--you know who my father was, and I presume, my own history. I am not sure, based on family history, that my advice will be welcomed by others in the family, such as the lady your aunt." He looks to Brita and Conner for some cue in that matter.
Brita, in defense of Ambrose notes, "Our Cousin Will have a Unique Perspective on A Pattern Destroyer Shared by only a Few. I can Only Offer an Outsider's Perspective."
Ambrose smiles at Brita.
Celina looks at Conner as well speaking as if to something they both have discussed before, "And I was raised on an Outsider's Perspective, to be an Outsider of it All. To have a false family." She shrugs in acceptance of what Ambrose and Brita have added. "Still since you are here I see no reason not to immerse myself in all things Family while the Huon matter settles itself. I am glad for the observations and will learn things from where they may not be welcome."
It is at that moment that Brennan's voice enters the gathering. Although the words of it aren't clear, the tone is: he's giving someone instructions, probably on the order of don't-be-too-far-away. After that, Brennan himself enters. Like Conner, he's made concessions to Rebman garb only in matters of practicality, not in matters of style. His customary red and black is still in place, and the cut of the garments is still far more Amberite than Rebman.
"Queen Celina, Sir Conner." It's a formal tone, for members of the court, but not at all unfriendly. Less formally, and with more outright warmth, "Brita. Ambrose. Unexpected, but I'm glad you're here. Ambrose, after we're done with the formal business of the court, Sir Fletcher and I have been discussing a project-- it's one I think will interest you, and that you'll have some good insights toward."
Ambrose nods, still smiling as his attention turns to his brother. "I have news for you as well, about new phases on the project we've been working on together. That too will wait until after court."
Brennan nods, looking forward to it.
Brita smiles as well but has nothing to add at the moment. She awaits the court proceedings.
Celina nods welcome to Brennan and Fletcher. "Silhouette has word from Huon and is on her way here."
Fletcher comments with a hint of curiosity. "That was fast."
Brennan nods, not obviously looking forward to it. He wears a thin, court smile.
As if on cue, Silhouette arrives with an attendant and a triton escort. She has acclimated well to Rebma; her initial awkwardness in this watery medium now dispelled. The translucent gold and green fabrics of her dress flow like sea-grass in the morning light. A sanguine shadow lurks beneath her right sleeve, as if some predatory fish waiting patiently. Her dark eyes remain solely upon Celina as she crosses the chamber, bowing before her.
"Your grace," she says. "Prince Huon sends you his regards, as well as his terms." A folded note appears in her hand.
Celina smiles and nods to Silhouette. She accepts the note and reads it through once ...and then she reads it aloud. Rebma is an oral culture and the reading is crisp and given a bold tone befitting a Prince of Amber.
My Dear Niece,
I Huon, Prince of Amber, Greet you.
I thank you for acceptance of my surrender. In exchange for the explicit protection you offer me from those who would harm me, I agree to the following terms.
1: I shall provide you information about my allies as you request.
2: I shall quit my claim against Prince Bleys of Amber, for the injustices done to me and to my family.
3: I shall act in the interests of the crown on projects as dictated in rebuilding Rebma for a period of two-and-twenty years.
4: I shall be a guest of the crown at court for the period of my parole. I shall, of course, expect the rights and prerogatives of a visiting Prince of Amber in Rebma, with the exception that I may not leave the City without Royal Consent.
While I would relinquish my trumps to the crown, I last saw them in the possession of the guards of Castle Amber. I would support your petition to Prince Caine to have them returned, but I fear my influence will be of little value in this matter.
Silhouette will provide details of my surrender if these terms are acceptable to you.
Then Celina's voice returns to its own tone, though a bit wry at the moment. "Well, this is good. He addresses all six points. I see a few wrinkles but perhaps it is just my quibble that quitting a claim is not apologizing at all. Or that travel from Rebma involves more Specifics than asking Consent." Celina looks around the small group. "But then I am not an expert at the Family language. Opinions?" Explicit by her body language---she is not asking Silhouette for comment yet.
Celina waves to a seat, inviting Silhouette to make herself comfortable.
Silhouette does so, gently settling into a chair. She remains quiet; studiously observing the reactions of her cousins. Brita, in particular, catches her attention.
Brita finally speaks after mulling through the response, "Having an Uncle Apologize to His Brother Probably exceeds his Capability, but Quitting the Claim, Particularly since he Believes the wrong was against His Family, is an Amazing Achievement. You should Clarify Your Rules for Departure Now to avoid Issue Later. Beyond that, I wish you Ease at having an Uncle Constantly Underfoot for two Decades."
Brennan, whose full and silent attention had been on Silhouette, turns to Brita, saying "The rights of motion of a defeated Prince are the Queen's to determine. There are ample precedents in both Amber and Rebman law to provide guidance."
"And yet," Fletcher adds almost apologetically, "There are counter-examples in the laws and ways of Amber. I believe though, that one could say this arrangement is still legally satisfactory in the traditions of Amber because Prince Huon has chosen to surrender to Rebma not under explicit duress and with the consent of the Crown of Amber. If you're concerned about that point you may wish to confer with King Random via trump. However I think you will find him agreeable to this most generous arrangement." At the last Fletcher smiles.
Ambrose speaks up. "I'm curious about a point in the note. Huon speaks of 'his family' in his message. Of whom does he speak and what part, if any, did they play in his war efforts?" He looks to Silhouette as if he expects her to have an answer.
Silhouette blinks at Ambrose, and then offers an impassive shrug. "He briefly mentioned 'descendents,' but supplemented this by stating he was unaware if they still lived. Prince Bleys' doing, apparently. After five hundred years separation, I doubt they directly participated in the war."
She brushes a floating strand of hair from her face, "If he has other family, they were not discussed."
"Still, if there are other possibly concerned parties the record should be clarified. We knew he had had relatives somewhere. Any idea what became of them? Or who would know?" Fletchers asks.
"There was his Partial Brother Pinnabello, who Died on the Pattern - Twice," Brita notes. "Do we Know What the Complaint against Our Uncle Bleys Was?"
Celina looks at Brennan but adds, "Huon felt Bleys had wronged him by the shadow exile, which he believed Bleys had planned."
Silhouette nods to Celina's comment, "Indeed. He specifically voiced that Bleys was responsible for his exile from home and family. He believed his brother had laid a trap for him, and refused to place his neck into the noose. What transpired before this vendetta began, however, he never shared with me. Nor was it a matter of interest to me at that time."
"I was thinking more of his sons or daughters," Ambrose says in a tone that qualifies as neither quite apologetic nor quite correcting them. "Any that he might know of and have used in his campaign, in any case. But your correction eases that concern, assuming you were correctly informed."
"What Transpired Before is Uncle Pinnabello Died on the Pattern. A Grave Concern. Uncle Huon was There - Not Watching, but Nearby." Brita shakes her head. "It is Unclear if he Could have Saved Uncle Pinnabello. Cousin Ossian and I were Unable to Do So." Brita looks at Ambrose and Brennan, "I Wonder if there Are Children - Cousins - Who do Not Know they Descend from Uncle Huon."
"Well," Celina thinks along the path of sudden inspiration, "if he was exiled long in a shadow, certainly there would be close friends, lovers and children. Why would he allow his life to be thinned to nothing while imprisoned? Unless the shadow had nothing in it he could love." She looks at her cousins.
"So to sum up," Brennan says, nodding to Ambrose, "we have incomplete accounts of what happened to his brother, incomplete knowledge of who he refers to as 'family' that have been wronged, and incomplete knowledge of how those 'family' members may have participated in the recent conflict." Brennan's diction, always careful, artfully skirts the issue of whether those 'family' members are Family, for the moment.
"I would suggest that a good accounting of any unknown family members be included. If they were parties to the recent conflict, knowing or unknowing, then they are by definition important allies. Even if not, as unknown quantities, they're potential paths to stumble back into vendetta-- when Huon serves out his punishment, he may be out of contact for a long time as the shadows run, prompting someone to pursue Bleys. Or, any Family member may run across one without knowing who they are," Brennan says.
Fletcher nods in agreement.
Celina looks back to Silhouette and leans slightly towards her. "All right. Please send for Huon. Tell him that I take his meaning now that he agrees to my original points and that he and I have to talk through some fine points. Mention to him that we have a concern on his behalf and that of King Random that his family members may need to reveal themselves to prevent any misunderstandings of his surrender here. He can travel to Rebma with my blessing."
Silhouette smiles softly, holding Celina's gaze for a moment. "Of course," she replies. "With your permission, might I have a moment in private to prepare your answer to him? I suspect any further correspondence will be delivered to you upon his arrival."
She stands up, bowing her head. "Unless you desire me further, shall I return to my quarters once the message is sent?"
Conner has remained quiet throughout this entire exchange. Those familiar with his ways will recognize the light trance he uses to enhance his memory. The message to Sil and by extension to Huon is clear. This agreement has been witnessed and recorded to the last syllable.
"Yes. I expect I'll be inviting you to a few meals as we await Huon's arrival. And if you have interest in touring the city, please send word to me." Celina points Silhouette to a side chamber for her privacy.
"Wait," Brennan says. "I believe we were still quibbling over the dimensions of Huon's confinement, whether it would be several tens of square miles ranging over all of Rebma, or several tens of square feet ranging over a small, dark prison cell.
"I propose the following compromise," Brennan continues. "If the Queen agrees, I am sure that a small section of the palace, or a small estate can be found for Huon's use, to maintain certain appearances and certain realities at the same time. Once Huon's information is vetted and assessed, and at the Queen's discretion, that situation might change."
Silhouette shrugs, "Your suggestion is a prudent one. I trust the Queen will provide lodgings worthy of Prince Huon in or within proximity to the Triton quarter, as per Conner's suggestion. He is aware of this, and I am sure he will find her Highness as accommodating as I have." She brushes her errant hair from her eyes. "However, once he arrives in Rebma, my patronage is concluded. Whatever you decide to do with him after that point is entirely beyond my concern."
She glances over at Celina to see if she is to be dismissed.
Celina nods. "Thank you, Silhouette. Please let Prince Huon know I am eager to see him."
A moment after Silhouette leaves-- brief enough that in Amber one would still hear the retreating footsteps, Brennan looks around the room, saying, "A moment please." He goes to the door that he and Fletcher entered previously, looks outside and gestures to someone. A moment later, a young man enters the room.
"I believe you know my cousins, Queen Celina, Sir Conner, Sir Fletcher, Brita, and my brother Ambrose," Brennan says, nodding at each in turn. Brennan focuses on Dignity as though a thought had, just that moment, occurred to him even though manifestly it has not. "Kneel, Dignity."
Dignity blinks once, and kneels, without speaking.
Turning back to his Family members, he continues:
"This young man is my squire, Dignity. As a youth, he joined with the rest of Amber, following our Family, and took up arms against the Courts of Chaos. This is where I met him, fighting with us against legions of creatures that most would be unlucky to see once in a lifetime. I took him as a squire on the long road back home, through Shadows that none of us knew.
"When I left to Weyland's domain in the Plain of Towers, Dignity followed me... knowing that as time runs in Shadow, he might return older than his parents, or worse, to meet his grown grand-nieces and grand-nephews. He fought at my side across the Plain of Towers as we battled Huon's ally, the creature of chaos called the Eater. All while shrewdly managing a makeshift alliance of Aelfs and Dvarts who would have been happier to slaughter each other.
"That path led us here, to the Battle of Rebma, where," and here Brennan pauses to give Dignity a sidelong glance, "I was told by Queen Khela of his exploits: He was attached to a messenger corps running orders to and from the Third Legion, which was under extreme duress from the sharks that Huon's forces conjured. My squire Dignity led the remnants of that Aelf-Dvart alliance and contrived to rescue the Legion's standard... or so I am told." Observers might infer that Brennan has heard all of this from other sources, and that Dignity never mentioned them.
Brennan takes one last look around the room, then faces Dignity fully, drawing his blade. "Therefore, as Knight-Commander of the Order of the Ruby, in recognition of your strength at arms, your cunning in battle, your leadership on the field, your calm and good counsel in strange situations, and your unflagging defense of the realms of Order against all enemies," Brennan brings the blade down on Dignity's shoulder, and only the drag of the watery environment saves the young man from a bruise the next morning, "I create a Knight of the Order of the Ruby.
"I also call you my friend." Brennan sheathes the blade, and offers Dignity his hand. "Rise, Sir Dignity, and never take another blow unanswered."
Celina moves in behind Brennan to congratulate Sir Dignity and is pleased when he clasps her forearm easily. She adds, "You are a valorous friend to Rebma as well. Call upon me if you are in need, Sir Dignity. This includes using my palace as a place to get away and enjoy some well deserved relaxation." Celina makes way in case there are other well wishers.
Fletcher adds his own hearty, "Well done, Sir Dignity" to the congratulations and quietly asks if anyone has a trump of Random he can borrow for a few minutes.
Dignity stands, soberly. "Commander, My Lords, Your Majesty, I am overwhelmed by your kindness and pledge myself to the duties and responsibilities of the Order of the Ruby." He pauses, unsure if he should say more, but finds nothing else to add.
Brita offers the new Sir Dignity a shoulder clasp and a hearty congratulations. She then steps off to the side waiting and watching for her brother to get free of any courtly duties he may be left with.
Celina quietly moves to stand near Ambrose. "Our city may seem the most foreign of places to you, cousin. She is not at her best at the moment, but will gather her wits very quickly. I would consider it a favor if you, with your eyes unclouded by preconceptions of this place, would call anything to my attention that you see during your stay that seems odd or puzzling. With the rush of events, a few extra pairs of eyes may save me a lot of strife in the coming months." Celina looks at the rest of the gathering. "All of you, for as long as you stay, have my ear day or night."
Ambrose nods, gravely. "I shall do that, cousin. What I see as odd or normal may not be what you expect, but I shall follow your instructions."
Last modified: 4 January 2012
