Bloodflowers

Once Jovian's business with His Percussiveness is concluded, he finds himself pointed in the approximate direction of the Red Room. Not satisfied with intuiting the rightness of the course, he buttonholes a page and asks after Sir Brennan - who has, indeed, been seen not too terribly long ago headed for the Rubies' ad hoc meeting hall.

He stands leaning in the doorway watching Brennan review correspondence for a moment before making any sound. There is a weariness about Jovian, a leadenly heavy cloak of sadness and resignation bearing him just perceptibly down. He speaks just one word, low but level and with no bitterness left in it.

"How?"

Brennan looks up, and shoo's away any of the Knights who are present and might be so foolish as to hang around. He also reaches around into one of the desk drawers and brings out a bottle and two glasses from where he'd stashed them before, figuring that Jovian would come looking for him, before Brennan could get to him.

He pours three fat fingers into each glass and passes one to Jovian. "Drink," he says. "Fallen comrades." He follows his own advice. "And brace yourself."

Without a word, the rider nods and swallows half the offered glass' contents -- then considers Brennan's own disposition for half a moment, and swallows the other half.

[Brennan] gives the liquor a moment to hit the bottom of his stomach, and then says, "The short and kind version is, she died en route to Grandmother's vaunted family reunion. I'm sorry, Jove."

"Clarissa," Jovian contemplates aloud. "Yes, I imagine she could have busted her out of Caine's lockup. How is she...was she related?"

Brennan shakes his head. "Aisling was Madoc's daughter; Madoc, Clarissa's brother. When Grandmother gets an idea in her head, such as a family reunion, nothing stands in her way. In this case, near as I can tell, Aisling was the carrot by which Madoc was convinced to attend. Which, as far as it goes, worked."

"If you excuse the minor detail that she was, you know, dead when she got there," Jovian observes, just the tiniest hint of bitterness bleeding through.

Brennan does not contradict this, as long as Jovian does not contradict the results.

He fills his glass and Jovian's, again, motioning for Jovian to drink and brace again.

"Aisling left behind at least one daughter. Saeth."

Jove is sufficiently arrested by this news that he forgets to be wary of the potentiating effect of the Heerat cigar he had earlier, knocking off the second glass as rapidly as the first.

He does not seem hurt, exactly, but saddened more deeply. "How old? And whose, do you know?"

Brennan almost groans-- he thought Jovian knew how this worked. "Ssssit down, Jovian. You should sit," he says, slowly. He considers finishing his second drink, decides against it. He considers pouring Jovian a third, decides to just leave the bottle on the table.

After running a hand through his hair, he continues. "The daughter is Aisling's. Alone. I thought you knew this, and I can't think of an easy way to say this, now that I've started. One of the... traditional fashions of Chaosi reproduction is strictly asexual. Saeth has no parent but Aisling."

We'll start with that.

"Excuse me," Jovian says a bit drily, brow furrowing, "for being absent on the day of the Sex Ed for Chaosi lecture. So the option Dara took is...optional. Got it. How old is the girl, and where is she now?"

"Very young," Brennan says, "And with Madoc, who was understandably distressed by the turn of events, very unhappy with the family in general, and who I expect will keep his granddaughter safe, secure, and hidden for the foreseeable future."

Jovian's eyes narrow, as if he's trying to decide how much was not said. He decides for the time not to pursue it directly, but Brennan can tell Jove is thinking it. "At least she's too young to come around seeking vengeance on her own for the moment," he says, his tone subtly suggesting that he's testing - or fishing.

Brennan, aware of the fishing, looks him dead in the eye. "Is this something you really want to hear about, right now, Jove?" he asks, quietly.

Jovian blinks slowly once or twice, seriously weighing the question. "I have a duty here just as you do, Brennan," he says at last. "King and Country. If this...Saeth...is poised to cause us harm, I cannot wrap myself up in willful ignorance."

"All right," Brennan says. "Chaos Lords reproduce asexually, in at least one mode. They can split parts of themselves off, and both pieces continue living. This is how Aisling was created by Madoc, as far as I know. If the piece is small enough, the larger piece maintains a certain... continuity. Of personality. The smaller piece apparently doesn't. From what I gather-- and this is only slightly informed speculation-- the original being has some control over the basic... template, I suppose... of the new offspring. The larger piece, the remaining parent, shouldn't change as much."

A pause before he continued, gravely. "But catastrophic damage can cause a similar effect."

Lines of pain slowly draw themselves across the dragonrider's brow. "You're telling me Saeth was born when...some defining part of Aisling was destroyed?"

Brennan just nods.

"Faranth shat a brick," Jovian whispers, stricken with something like awe as the implications begin to take shape. "Were you able to find out how much of Aisling's memory remains with Saeth?"

"Yeah," Brennan says. "But only that some remains. She remembers Caine. I think she remembers me, and by extension, the rest of the Knights. I didn't have time to speak more than a few words to her. The damage was done when Clarissa freed her from her prison. Madoc was understandably angry, and all present found better places to be. I told her to remember us as friends, for what that may be worth," he adds.

"That," Jovian observes, rubbing to contain the headache starting between his eyes, "could prove more or less difficult. I suppose you warned Marius away from the far side of the Tree before he left."

"In so many words, yes. I certainly told him to stay the Hell away from my Grandmother's Court. I'd have warned him away from Madoc's, but I wouldn't know it if I saw it. I told the King we wanted Aisling remembered with honor, too, and no one has contradicted that."

Jovian nods gravely, his eyes closing for a moment. If he has something in mind, he does not voice it then.

"I tried, Jovian. I tried."

"We all tried," he agrees, his voice quiet but remarkably level. He looks across the room to the small side-table where three firelillies still flicker, growing rootless from their rock. A brief, transient anger flickers in his eyes in response, but is quickly gone.

"There's one more unpleasant thought to get out of the way. No one knows if there are others that someone-- Dara-- could find." Brennan looks to see if Jovian picks up the dangerous consequences of that thought.

"Others?" Jovian repeats, his eyes snapping back to Brennan's. "You mean the rest of Aisling?"

Brennan can only nod. Jovian did ask.

"...And died of a square tailfork," he nearly chokes, horror dawning in his expression. "Who has been back to Caine's lockdown since this all happened?"

"I have no way of knowing. I'll be talking to Caine tomorrow."

Jovian nods, considering. "Caine wouldn't just bet the rent that nobody else could extract what Clarissa had to leave behind. But then, nobody else might have to, depending on what she took with her and gave to Madoc." He wrinkles his nose at the thought. "Don't want to bet on that either, though. Did you get to talk with Madoc at all?"

"I'm sure Fiona or Bleys have already talked to Caine, but if they haven't, I will. And Madoc? No. I would have liked to, but the first time we were in the same place is also the first time Madoc saw Saeth. He was not in a conversational mood. I had to put myself between Madoc and Grandmother just to get those last words to Saeth before Madoc took her away."

Brennan lets out a long breath, then sips his whiskey.

"How stand Arden and Arcadia?"

"I love my brother, but he's an asshole," Jove pronounces like a mantra as he pours another drink.

Brennan shrugs, and does not contradict this. "Talk about it?"

"He resists any effort to bring him up the hill, even the promise of meeting his children. He's determined to get himself killed in accordance with his mother's will. Or flaming prophecy. Or something."

Brennan raises both eyebrows at that. "I thought Brooke and Leif-- they've been born, if you haven't heard-- would be some enticement. Paige has it in her head that they should meet their father, too."

"I did hear," Jovian nods, and has another mouthful of spirits. "But he won't come, for fear we'll prevent him from going back down into the Deep Green to be hunted down like a wounded stag. Don't know how he could have gotten that idea," he adds with a twist at the corner of his mouth.

"Because you and I would stand on his arms while Brita beats on him properly?"

"Hey!" Jove protests. "It's my turn to break his jaw!"

Brennan moves his glass to concede the point.

"So what do you think will be the reaction if Paige traipses out into Arden or beyond?"

"She's not doing that if I have to sit on her myself. Or have Canareth do it." Jovian has another swallow and leans in closer. "Brennan. You don't know what the hell is running the show in the Deep Green, do you?"

"Yes. Well. She might like that. But aside from that, someone should try to explain things to her. I steered her toward Julian and Corwin for advice, but I don't know if she'll follow through," Brennan says.

"Look," Jovian says urgently, leaning closer, eyes intensely focused. "The more I hear and see, the more I'm convinced that there is a hugely fecking powerful being of Chaos that's been contained in Arcadia by the stability of the Pattern close by. Remember the Dragons from Oberon's funeral?"

Brennan's eyes narrow. "Ye-e-esss," he says, hesitantly. "Like the one that carried his casket away?"

"The one who did interesting tricks with body mass and flew right into the damn Abyss without a moment's pause. Yeah."

Brennan nods, then, suddenly, sees. "That's what Bleys meant by 'exotics,'" he says, hollowly.

One brow arches, but the dragonman does not otherwise pursue it. "She can possess other beings, cause them to shift shape in a limited way," he continues in a voice alarmingly without inflection. "Hack the victim's body to pieces and the pieces keep coming to do her will."

"And you are saying that this being was Finndo's consort, yes?"

Jovian nods slowly.

"That's... lovely," Brennan says. "Any relation to your friends?"

"Hope not," Jove says bluntly. "Ours are social, not territorial." There is more he is about to say, but with a pained look he stops there.

"I'd want to do more than hope," Brennan murmurs. "But someone needs to make this clear to Paige in a way that she does not perceive as bullying or bludgeoning. She has the redheaded stubborness, and despite everything else, she has the resources to back that stubborness with action."

"I said 'hope' only because I can't rule out their being distant shadows. As for Paige...." He sighs, shaking his head. "I've been sort of avoiding her, I'm afraid. I should stop that. Not fair to her, to Daeon or my niece and nephew."

Brennan nods. "My track record with talking sense into people is limited, and I have my hands full in that regard, anyway. And, don't be surprised at Brooke's and Leif's apparent age. Birth has not slowed them down."

"Was Paige in slow time for a while?"

"Paige was in Clarissa for a while," Brennan says, as if that's a sufficient answer.

"She sped up their growth somehow?" Jovian asks, looking just a little ill.

"I'm convinced she did," Brennan says. "They were, after all, part of the family reunion. Couldn't do that if they weren't properly born. At least, I'm sure she sped up the pregnancy. How much of that lingers, and how much is the result of their natural heritage..." Brennan shrugs. "It's probably too late to ask your brother how long his childhood lasted."

"Don't know that he'd remember anything before he hit sexual maturity," Jove answers drily, leaving the implication about where Daeon's thinking apparatus is as an exercise for the reader.

Brennan smirks a faint agreement.

Julian's son holds up a finger, his brow furrowing in concentration. "What was it Dad said...he didn't give a time when he mentioned her pregnancy. He said, the turning of the seasons."

Brennan thinks for a moment. "That would fit, actually. Grandmother did adjust the seasons of her Court, and I'm surprised there would be anything as stable as a seasonal cycle there, unless she desired it. I find myself wondering if Grandmother knew Daeon's grandmother, or if she worked that out from some sort of first principles...."

"I couldn't begin to guess," Jovian admits. "But meantime, Paige should probably be discouraged from shifting Shadow, if she hasn't figured it out for herself already."

"She's been in Bleys' company for some time," Brennan says, "and she's probably aware. They might have even mentioned it in front of me while I was distracted. But, yes, if she's not, she should be. And if she's thinking of taking the children with her, she should be strongly discouraged. But I don't think that's her plan."

"Any idea what is?"

"Not really. I know what my plan would be-- pick Corwin's brain and Julian's brain before anything else. And given what you just told me, I'd probably suck it up and see if Grandmother had any insight. Paige might be inclined to set out on her own and improvise once she gets deeper into Arden."

"Is it terribly unkind," Jove asks, shaking his head, "to suggest she and Daeon are a match made in heaven?"

"Not really. Don't take my word for this, though. Please, by all means, go meet your favorite niece and nephew, then come back and tell me I'm wrong. I might be. I'd like to be."

"Me too," the wingleader nods. "From what Britomartis said, I'd surmise that the only real hope of containing the sh!tstorm down there is to keep Daeon's kids well clear."

"Nothing is ever that simple. Here's a foolish question-- do Finndo's children understand what that means?" Brennan asks.

"I don't think...so...." Jovian trails off, his brow deeply furrowed, perhaps wondering whether he's insane for thinking whatever just occurred to him.

Brennan waits for Jovian to continue the thought.

"No," he answers himself. "It's insane. And impossible right now, besides."

"Everybody does this to me, since I got back," Brennan mutters. "Don't make me drag it out of you. Please?"

"Britomartis. Sane sister of the troublemakers. Knows them inside and out, and compared to them is the Goddess of Wisdom, literally. And capable of walking a Pattern, if we just had one handy. See what I meant?" Jovian shrugs with a disgruntled look. "Insane, and impossible besides."

Brennan shrugs. "Impossible, yes. Insane, if you were thinking of encouraging that sort of thing. But Brennan's Thirteenth Law is 'Know your enemy, as your enemy knows himself.' Their conception of themselves may matter quite a bit. Especially if the sisters have different understandings."

"I hope somebody's keeping a record of these laws of yours," Jove observes with a wry twist at the corner of his mouth. "Anyway, Dad's on his way to meet Britomartis - he insisted that he should keep the appointment I made."

Brennan smiles faintly, then a thought strikes him. "I know who I can ask about that Dragon. Sooner or later. Dworkin. He should be in a position to know something, if no one else does."

"He's certainly the longest memory we've got," Jovian nods. "I'd hoped he would be back at some point after the funeral."

"He will be, I'm sure. If not here, then--" Brennan stops abruptly, and shifts gears. "You've heard about the King's endeavor?"

"Shiny new basement and all. Beautiful waterfall feeding into the bay, I hear."

"Yes. If Dworkin doesn't visit here, I'm sure he'll visit there. Looking back, I have the spooky impression that he knew this would happen," Brennan says. He finds that disturbing.

"His Percussiveness did say he couldn't fix the damage here. That he'd had to start fresh. If anyone would know whether it could be fixed, it'd be Dworkin, right?"

"Well," Brennan says, "That's. Interesting. Because Dworkin told me there was a way, and that some day I might be able to do it. Of course, Grandfather managed to repair the Center, but it killed him."

Jovian ruminates on this for a moment. "Dworkin didn't seem particularly mad when I saw him at the Citadel, but I didn't really have a baseline. I wonder how much the whole dying thing really factors into his considerations."

There's a knock at the door, even as it opens. "Any K-night Commanders about?" asks a throaty voice alliterating the title.

"Name a redhead," Brennan muses, "and she appears."

Jovian smiles. "An inborn talent I suppose. I wonder if Fiona shares it," he adds, more than half to himself.

Paige is dressed in green and gold as is right and proper. Her hair is coiled on the back her head. "Two ideal men for the price of one. What have I done right today?"

"You came looking for Knights," Brennan answers. "How are the Twins?"

"At the townhouse and roughly the same size you saw last," Paige answers. "If all goes well, I'll be spending the night there with them.

"I was wondering if there was word of their father?" she asks, her gaze immediately taking in Jovian.

"Oh, there's word of their father," the dragonman confirms, rising to offer his hand. "But I'm afraid it won't cheer you much. Please, sit and join us. I'd offer you a drink if I knew whether the children were weaned yet," he wryly asks-without-asking.

Paige sits with a smile and a nod. "Weaned, but I'll pass on the drink, thank you. I've shared a good vintage with Lucas already today."

She sits on her curiousity rather well. "Is Adonis in trouble of some sort?"

"Only the trouble he chooses for himself," Jovian answers, shaking his head slowly. "How much has Julian told you about Arcadia?"

"I haven't spoken with your Father on this issue since Heather Vale," she answers. "Where is Adonis, in Arcadia?"

Brennan doesn't have anything immediate to add to the conversation, except sarcastic remarks, so he doesn't. He's an active listener, though.

"Yes, he's in Arcadia," Jovian nods, "or as near as makes no difference. The lines are no longer clear. Without the Pattern's stability, they might not ever be again." The idea clearly haunts him.

Paige nods. It's something she's known in the center of her being for years now, but hadn't truly come to terms with. If she had, she would've never bought the townhouse.

"Paige, right now there's a war going on down there. Between Artemis and Calliste, through their descendants. The two of them probably won't fight each other directly at all," he adds with evident disgust. "The way it will most likely play out, unless Dad can stop it, is that Calliste's children will try to kill Daeon and take his place - allowing Calliste to take Artemis' place."

Paige shows obvious concern for her cousin.

"Daeon can't hold them off indefinitely. The only way Artemis knows to keep Calliste's twins from killing him and taking over--" There is a half beat pause as Jovian considers his whiskey glass and provisionally rejects another swallow, then meets Paige's eyes and locks in. "Is to make sure her descendants kill him first."

He lets that sink in for a moment.

"So that's why the children are growing so quickly, so they can kill their father?" she asks incredulously. "They don't have it in them, no matter how quickly they grow," she declares.

Brennan raises an eyebrow. "A bold claim, in this family." he says quietly.

The quietness of the comment doesn't save him from a mother's glare, even if it is only his momentarily.

Brennan has weathered far worse, in his time.

"They're still babies," Jovian points out. "Who's to say what they have in them? And if I've understood correctly...well, Daeon's godhead is all about seasonal cycles. Fertility god in spring and summer, hunter in fall, who knows what-all in winter. Everything's about the turning of the seasons. Which is probably why the rapid seasonal changes Brennan noticed in Clarissa happened in such a conventional order." He leaves the dots thus, for Paige to connect herself.

"You weren't planning on doing any hellriding soon, were you?"

Paige's look slides from anger at his considering her babies murderers to utter contempt at the idea that she has no understanding of her own children's growth. She shows more restraint than Brennan might expect and doesn't voice her thoughts.

At this, the door of Jovian's own expression closes firmly, with an almost audible slam.

[Paige]
"Is that why he hasn't come looking for them? He must know that they're here, what with how rumors and news spread through the family."

"He knows," Jovian nods. "Or expects. I wasn't certain you had arrived yet when I talked with him. He's not afraid of them at this point. He's more worried that he'll be prevented from returning to Arcadia if he comes up the hill." He gives Brennan a quick, amused glance at that, but stifles it quickly.

Brennan's return glance is a lot less amused. It might even be worried, but he hoods that quickly.

"Is that a bad idea? I mean, the way you explain it, he's no options there," she muses.

"His options amount to sacrificing himself for the cause he prefers," Jovian says nearly without inflection. "And from all indications he is quite comfortable with that."

Paige turns her gaze to the side table. "Might I borrow his bouquet there for an afternoon?" she asks nodding toward the flaming flowers.

"To what purpose?" Jovian asks, his face a mask. "We still don't know what they can do, or could be used for by outside influences."

Brennan looks like he'd like the answer to that question, too.

"To help answer that question, actually," Paige admits. "Merle and I were discussing them a day or two ago, and he said he'd have to look at them to see if they could be used for sorcerous advantage against Adonis."

She rises and walks over to the side table to better examine the flowers.

"Beautiful, aren't they, in a disturbing kind of way," Jovian muses, following her and resting a hand lightly on her shoulder. "Rather like the boy himself. With all the sorcerors afield, we haven't been able to study them as closely as we'd like."

He pauses a longish, deliberative moment before continuing. "I'm not inclined to move them - if they are instruments of sorcerous advantage I prefer to know where they are. But, Brennan, if you don't have any objection to Merle coming here to study them...?"

Brennan's eyebrows draw together in confusion. "I must be misunderstanding. You're asking to let Merlin study the FireLillies to be used in a potential attack against Daeon?"

With a look and no words, Jovian relays the question to Paige.

"No, to better understand if they can be used as a sorcerous connection to him, specifically if they can be used to Locate him," she explains.

"Normally a scrying of that nature needs something of the subject's. Bodily fluids, possessions, things of that like. Merlin said he was unsure that the firelillies could be used in such a manner without examining them."

Brennan's eyebrows release their tension: All is clear, now. "Ah, now I see. Planning a trip to... what did you call it, Jove? The Deep Green?"

"Uh, no," Jovian says firmly. "I mean yes, that's what I called it. But it is out of the fardling question."

"Ah," Brennan says, with obviously artificial levity. "I guess that's settled, then." But he narrows his eyes and shoots Jovian a look, adding in a lower tone, "Unless my respected Brother Knight would care to offer an explanation to my reasonable Cousin."

Jovian is utterly impervious to the look.

"Paige, let me put this simply, with absolutely no disrespect for your ability," he continues in carefully measured tones. "A few minutes before I came back to the rockpile, I heard my father explain to the Rangers that he and Robin were going into the Deep Green. He gave them instructions in the event of his death." He gives that a nice long moment to sink in.

"If you have reason to believe you know what's down there and how to cope with it better than the Warden of Arden, I hope you'll share it with us."

Paige has kept herself quiet but Brennan's been around her enough to see that she's close to boiling over. A deep breath to center herself, and she answers the dragonrider, "I'm not arrogant enough to presume anything of the like. Until a day or two ago, I had no idea that the war there had escalated."

And if Paige has time to spare to read Brennan's expression is distinctly long-suffering, but less to anyone in particular than just in general.

Jovian is utterly deadpan. If it is taking some effort to maintain, it doesn't show.

"Merlin and I discussed Locating Adonis, nothing more. If you think I have plans of risking myself or the children, you've spent too much time thinking about what problems I could cause you and your father instead of actually talking to me about what my plans are," she explains.

"My apologies for interrupting your discussion, Brennan," she says with a slight bow of her head.

"Don't worry about it. I'll catch up with you later," Brennan says after her. Probably the last thing she hears from Brennan, on her way out, is the sigh.

She rises and turns for the door. "Jovian, good day."

Brennan lets the sound of the door closing (slamming?) hang in the air for a minute before looking at Jovian and saying, "Where did that all go wrong, d'you suppose?"

"You assume it went wrong, brother," Jovian responds without looking, in a tone astonishingly like his father's.

"I do not. Why would she need to locate Daeon more specifically than 'Arcadia,' knowing what has become common knowledge about that place? Particularly knowing that he is determined to remain there and play the game to its end as his mother's sacrifice? Why, unless to make some attempt to distract or extract him, which attempt would open a channel of one power or another directly from Arcadia into the castle?" The voice remains that of Julian's son, but his eyes are hard, with witch-fire behind them.

"No, Brennan. That did not go wrong. And I think those flowers belong in Caine's office from now on."

Brennan lets Jovian enjoy the view from that carefully constructed high ground for a moment, then decides that Jovian actually believes what he just said.

"If I were Paige," he says casually, "I could charter a ship down the coast and up the banks of the Oisen to Jones Falls, and hike the rest of the way to Heather Vale, where there are countless more of those flowers to be had. Of course, if I were Paige, I would have a cabin at Jones Falls waiting for me. And if I were Paige, I would be a Trump artist, so I would have a Trump of the cabin at Jones Falls to make it so much easier. In fact, I'd as far as Jones Falls right now.

"Even if I didn't have a Trump, I could make a sketch in short order. If I were Paige, that is. And if I were Paige, and making Trumps, I could probably make one to take me straight to Heather Vale. Of course, if I were Paige, and I already had a Sorceror's help, chances are high that he could just take me there directly without even bothering with a Trump." Brennan waggles his fingers in exaggerated fashion, mimicking the gestures Ambrose made when he departed the Coronation Masquerade.

"If I were Paige, I would be headstrong, and a little obsessive. I would also be Bleys' daughter, with all that implies. I would have mastery over Shadow and Trump. I would not be some Shadow bumpkin so easily denied. Short of violence, do you think you could close off all those options, even if you weren't planning a rapid departure, yourself?"

"If you were Paige," Jovian responds without a hint of warmth, "you would find Julian in the immediate vicinity of Jones Falls in the highly alert state of one half-convinced the parley he is headed for is actually a trap laid by a hostile Dragon. That would be an end to your excursion. Likewise, if you were Paige, I believe you would find that a Trump of Heather Vale would no longer work. Because it is *not the same place anymore.* It's in an entirely different shadow, right down to the time flow. I strongly suspect the same problem would attend any other magical attempt to reach that spot. And if you were Paige and decided to take such a course - despite your protestation before your favorite redheaded cousin that you do not intend to put yourself or your children at risk - you would be forced to admit that an arrogant, pigheaded bronze rider was right about you all along."

Brennan listens to Jovian's clinical analysis, chewing on the bottom of his lip until he's done. When he is, Brennan continues, still casually: "Unless Fi's been giving you lessons on the side, you're guessing; about Trumps, about Sorcery, and about Paige's and Merlin's abilities in either. That's a lot of guessing, if you ask me.

"And you're also underestimating your cousin. Just because she chooses her goals," Brennan fishes for a phrasing, "less rationally than you or I doesn't mean she is incompetent to pursue them. She is a Trump artist, and she's no wilting woman cooped up with her knitting needles. The Knight of Altamar spoke highly of her. And that's saying nothing of Merlin. If they decide to go, I'd make bank on them."

Brennan stands to leave. "But I've done my bit for Royalty and Redheads, trying to convince her that heading into Arden and Arcadia is a bad idea. Arden and Julian are your concerns. Let me know if you think p1ssing her off, leaving her no course but to make headaches in Heather Vale for your father to achieve her goal, and doing nothing about the underlying goal is still a good idea, tomorrow."

Jovian sits in silence, fixing the doorway with a flinty stare for a moment after Brennan leaves, then turns to the writing desk.

To Random, King of Amber, is conveyed herein the urgent report of his servant, Sir Jovian, KCOR.

My Liege, I have been given reason to believe that Someone may attempt to use these flowers of which we spoke to open some form of contact, sorcerous or otherwise, with Arcadia in an effort to locate the father of her twin children. I am not qualified to speculate on the ill use the power that controls the Deep Green could make of such a line of contact between Arcadia and Kolvir, but my last remaining subatomic particle of common sense vibrates with distress at the prospect.

For this reason I think it safest to keep the flowers secure - in your office, in Caine's, or wherever else you deem appropriate.

In service to Crown and Country I remain
Yr obdt svt
Jovian
(his seal)

He places the firelillies, rock and all, in a water pitcher, rolls the note around the handle, and steps out into the hallway to collar a page. "Take this to His Majesty's office. Run like Canareth was eyeing you hungrily. Stop for nothing and no one but Prince Caine," he tells the youth in a grim, terse undertone.

Paige walked directly from the Red Room to the Family wing, a smile and a nod for any that she encountered along the way. She knocked on Merlin's door, scant seconds before opening it and entering. Her smile and pleasant demeanor evaporated as she closed the door behind her, leaning back on it with a sigh.

She took a moment to center herself before opening her eyes and appraising her cousin, hopefully, and his room.

Merlin is in one of the far rooms, by the window, working on the Jerod trump. He had a very good sketch in his own hand to use for a model.

"It seems there are some of Adonis's firelillies about, but Jovian is loathe to have them in my hands for fear I might do something dangerous," she explains. "It was my only idea, other than the children, and I'm not of a mind to have them used as sorcerous fetches.

"I suppose I'm not speaking with him any time soon," she accepts as she finds herself a seat.

Merlin cleans his hands with a cloth and some turpentine as he turns to speak with Paige. "What does Jovian think you will do that is is dangerous? I will speak to him if you like. I know most people here are ignorant of sorcery, and fear it. There is nothing to fear from this spell."

"Jovian is like our elders in his underestimation of my common sense and like our cousins in his overestimation of himself," Paige sighs. She crosses her legs, appraising the canvas. "He's just been granted your subject's space on my sh!t list.

"I think he's afraid that I'll do something to imbalance the situation his father's dealing with in Arcadia," she admits. "And if I'm being honest, I am impulsive and don't know what I'd do, but letting the twins anyplace near that isn't part of it. I don't think men get the nurturing part of parenting.

"It seems Arcadia spawns hungry gods, and part of the cycle is the young devouring their parents and their power, in some shape or form," she explains. "Heh, when I put it that way, it sounds like it's on the wrong side of Ygg if you take my meaning."

Merlin frowns thoughtfully.

"Is it hard to understand that I think the twins should have a father?" she asks her cousin who even now barely knows his own father. "I spent a century in darkness and doubt. The only person I knew like me was St. Virile, and I had no idea why. I don't want that for Brooke and Leif."

"This is an instinct I do not entirely understand. But I do not think it is because I am gendered in polarity to you," Merlin says.

"However, if you say it is important, I will assume that you are correct. I have some desire to know the beings who spawned me, and I know this is true of others of our kindred. I would like your spawn ... children ... to have the chance to know their creators. If it is as you say, and like my home, I am more suited to dealing with it than Jovian knows."

He pauses, as if playing back Paige's words. "What exactly did Jovian say? Are you bound by his geas on this matter?"

"No, I've given no word. Brennan and he assumed I was planning a trip to Arcadia or the Deep Green or where ever Adonis might be," she explains.

"Actually Brennan's not at fault. I think he was just trying to disuade me from that path for my own safety and the children's. Any way, Jovian told me that it was, and I quote, 'Out of the fardling question.' Whatever fardling is..."

Merlin shrugs helplessly. But he always was a bit out of his depth with idiomatic Thari.

"He tried to explain that Julian and Robin are going into the Deep Green as he calls it, and our uncle had made arrangements in the event of his death. I think that was supposed to be accompanied by ominous music of foreboding, but the orchestra must've been on break.

"Then he got cocky, along the lines of 'If you know better than my Daddy, tell me so I can go be a hero again.' He can go fardle himself with that sh!t." The look of digust on her face isn't the wrath that Merlin's seen when she's truly angry. It seems more calculating.

"In fact, they never denied my request for using the flowers, which are right in the Red Room. They only counseled me to not travel to where Adonis is," she finally answers his question.

"Then we should consider using them," Merlin says.

"But if Jovian is truly determined to forbid you to even scry his brother, he will remove them. I would prefer to do whatever is to be done with the sanction of at least one of the Knights, since the flowers are in their custody. I might speak to Sir Brennan, since I believe he is more likely to have an accurate measure of the dangers of Arden and of my own capabilities than Sir Jovian. You make Sir Joivan sound a bit ... overwrought in his concerns. If she is present, you might speak to Dame Lilly, or perhaps Sir Marius. How urgent is this matter?"

Paige explains, "It's not, but the way people seem to be scattering to Shadow and Patterns unknown, if it's not addressed soon, it never may be. It seems Jovian's of the impression that Adonis may be returning to Arcadia to sacrifice himself.

"As for the other Knight Commanders, Lilly's on her way to Xanadu with your sister and Marius is in Shadow with Ossian. I suppose I might reach either by Trump," she suggests.

"I think we should deal with those who are present," Merlin opines. "If Adonis means to sacrifice himself before meeting his children, the matter must be addressed sooner rather than later. We can speak to Brennan and seek his advice. Or if it is needful, I can reach into the past and obtain the flowers. I think that is a measure we should leave for last, though."

"A wonderful idea, Merle," Paige decides. "You acting as my agent in this, that is. I agree we should hold the advanced sorcery to a minimum. Amber's an unstable Shadow as it is. We don't need the Silver Towers of Avalon all over again now, do we?

"I'm returning to town to be with the children. Trump me when you have news?"

"I shall. And I shall try not to destroy Amber with my reckless sorcery," Merlin says, but he's smiling.