Brita Walks

Brita, Reid, and Fiona find themselves in Corwin's bedchamber. He was dressing or changing clothes when the call came; by the light in the windows on the far side of the room, it's either early morning or late in the evening.

The bedroom is luxurious, all in yellows, but in a different style from the overcrowded genteel poverty that Brita and Reid have come to associate with Castle Amber. There's a large canopied bed in golden fabrics, several chairs and seats, and a marble fireplace with a bust of someone Brita doesn't recognize on the mantel.

Reid recognizes the bust. It's Oberon.

Reid gives the bust a sardonic grin upon its recognition -- not the most flattering look on him.

"Welcome to Paris," Corwin says to his guests. "I'm pleased you were all able to join me."

Fiona is putting her Trumps away. "Thank you, Corwin. We're all right. Bleys and Conner have stayed with Paige, who is giving birth to her children; Brennan has gone to his home shadow with his brother. We are here to look at your Pattern, and for Brita to walk it, if it's safe for her to do so."

Corwin looks at Brita, to see what she thinks of that.

Reid is about to make himself comfortable in one of the chairs as he, too, is interested in her response. He is stopped by the realization that he's probably still soaked by Clarissa's rain, so he politely finds a place to puddle.

She is quiet, but a glitter in her eyes betrays Brita's excitement...and fear. She has to clear her throat to speak, but adds to her mother's statement "and if you will let me, Uncle Corwin."

Reid turns to Corwin. "I am here, of course, in support of my pupil's traversal. At the same time, the teacher becomes the student -- I'd like to learn a bit more on the nature of patterns. It is a subject that was only glanced at while I studied under Dworkin. I suspect that I could learn a fair bit more than I already know in short time if you and Fiona were willing to entertain my curiosity."

Corwin has noticed the puddling around his siblings' offspring, and moved to the bellpull to summon a servant. Fiona, for all that she was standing in the rain, seems perfectly dry. She turns to look at her nephew, and a slight smile curves her lips.

The king replies to Reid first. "I think that's reasonable. As for you, Brita, as I understand things, it's time and past time for you to take the Pattern. If you're well-rested, we could do it as soon as this afternoon."

Brita gives Corwing a half bow and does not glance at her mother (although the urge is there). "Thank you, Uncle. This afternoon would be fine."

"Very well. Let's get you settled, and then we'll have lunch, and afterwards we'll walk down and instruct you," Corwin says.

The summons to the servants eventually produces a woman named Alice, who seems to be the chatelaine of Castle Paris. Reid and Brita quickly learn that she's the wife of one of Corwin's retainers, Bill, with whom Fiona is acquainted. She's apparently gotten used to sudden arrivals and departures among Corwin's kin.

She mentions in passing that Vere and Jerod came through on their way to Rebma, and that Merlin left to go to Amber with Celina.

Celina? Fiona wants to know.

Alice blinks and temporizes that Celina is from Rebma. But surely the King will tell them all about it at lunch.

After their rooms are prepared, the visitors to Paris have a chance to dry off, freshen up, and rest a bit following all the excitement. In due time, Reid and Brita are summoned to lunch, where Fiona and Corwin await.

[OOC: any questions you all have should come ASAP]

[Sure... Brita's got the constitution for going long periods without food, but Reid just showed up at a picnic and was shuffled-off post-haste. So the immediate question would be, what's for lunch?]

If Reid asked Alice that, he got late breakfast.

Brita is going with the flow for now. She is quiet - perhaps more so than usual - and introspective.

Brita and Reid remain quiet for the early part of the meal.

While they eat, Fiona tells the story of the trip to the Land of Peace and the meeting with her mother, eventually leading to the picnic and their quick removal. Corwin questions her closely on several issues, including Paige's twins and her accelerated pregnancy, the presence of Ambrose, and the discovery of Saeth.

Once Corwin is satisfied with her tale, he gives her his own news, which Reid can tell discomfits him: he has a daughter by Moire whom Moire sent to Paris. Celina is her name. This turn of events amuses Fiona until Corwin explains that she was attacked by Tritons. Then she begins to question Corwin closely about affairs in Rebma.

Reid perks up at the mention of Tritons. "What are they up to now, I wonder? My father and Finndo were the ones who put them in their place to begin with. The idea of any insubordination on their part leads me to suspect the foundations of an uprising at play, which is most disturbing..."

"Jerod would know more than I of that," says Corwin.

There is some discussion of the Rebman envoys in Paris and the news that Vere and Jerod have gone on to Rebma, and Celina and Merlin to Amber.

"I may have to trump Vere or Jerod to get the local pulse in Rebma," offers Reid. "I would hate to cut short my visit here, but the Tritons... They were one of father's battles. I could not stand to see his work undone."

Corwin nods. "I could also send you there with someone from Paris, if you'd rather go in person and don't want the bother of having to find an air chamber to arrive in. I'll be sending someone myself in a few days. If you want to speak to someone who has spent some time in Rebma and witnessed some strange events involving the Tritons, I suggest you speak to my friend Bill Roth."

"He's here?" says Fiona.

"Wandered in before the coronation. I sent him to Rebma, but he's back now. Alice, my chatelaine, is his wife."

Fiona nods, and they go on with their discussion.

Brita appears to be playing with her food. She has taken a glass of tea in both hands, turned it three times clockwise and set it to her left. She nibbles at the edges of the food on her plate - fish, greens, bread. She has listened quietly to the discussions between Fiona and Corwin swirling over her head. Finally, she pushes the plate away and rises. "King Corwin, Princess-Mother Fiona, Master Reid, I beg pardon. I need to prepare a few things before my Walk. May I have a small room and a basin of water?"

"Of course," says Corwin, and summons a page to guide her.

Assuming consent and a servant to guide her, Brita repairs to the room.

She stares at the mirror built into the stand holding a small basin and a pitcher of water as she slowly undoes each of her braids in the final steps of her preparation. She runs her fingers through the long golden tresses to release the knots. Once satisfied, she gathers all the strands back together and wraps a leather strap around the mass at the nape of her neck. Dividing the ponytail in two parts, one held in each hand, she pulls apart slightly to secure the strap and then proceeds to twist the larger hanks of hair together, back into one twisted braid. She secures the end with another strap.

She pours some water from the pitcher into the basin, blessing it for purity. She picks up a cloth draped across a rail along the side of the stand and dips a corner into the cooled water. Closing her eyes, she runs the wet cloth across her lids, along her cheeks and forehead. She then opens the cloth, dries off the dampness, and opens her eyes.

Straightening her jacket and brushing some lint off the sleeve, she is finally ready. With a slight nod to herself, she goes to find the others.

By the time Brita returns, Fiona, Reid, and Corwin are prepared for what will follow.

They walk through the streets of Paris, and many of those they meet greet the King and his companions. Corwin is polite and returns their greetings. Everyone here is garbed strangely to Reid's and Brita's eyes, but they do not seem bothered by the strange dress of the King's guests.

[OOC: Turn of the century Paris for styles]

Eventually they find themselves in front of a large stone building with several doors. To Reid it seems like the temples he recalls from Clervaux in his youth. Corwin brings them inside. The place is full of candles, but empty of people. Reid notices that along the side aisles of the building, there are effigies. He has seen effigies like this before, brightly painted, where these have paled with age.

Corwin stops and obtains candles for all of them. They light the way, although the sun coming in through the stained-glass windows keeps it bright enough for them to walk through without much difficulty.

Wooden screens block off portions of the temple and the side aisles. Corwin opens a gate in the one that bars their way, and they accompany him down the length of the temple, to the semicircular protrusion at the far end. The place is surprisingly well-lit for such a large building (more than four stories high). The windows seem to light the place almost magically.

[OOC: The modern rows of chairs are not there.]

It's a bit darker at the back, by the time the group arrives at the altar. It's a heavy stone block with reliefs of groves and pools in gold on the sides. Atop the altar, towards the rear, is a life-sized statue of a unicorn in white stone.

There are also several more of the pale stone effigies. One in particular draws Reid's attention. It's a woman's effigy. She is dressed in a cotehardie with a wimple and a crown around it. But it is her name that catches his attention: Clothilde, Regina Parisii.

And then Corwin is calling to him and Brita to help him push aside the altar. It takes all four of them to move it, and Corwin is stronger than any man Reid has seen since his own father.

The stairs lead down and back towards the front of the temple. They take a long time to traverse, as if Corwin were leading them into the depths of a mountain. After a time, they come into an open space. It is neither quite a cave nor a chamber. Impossibly, there is a tree, which seems to be growing and thriving despite the lack of sunlight.

Behind it is Corwin's Pattern, giving off an eerie silver light.

"Have you prepared her?" says Corwin to Fiona.

"As much as one can," Fiona replies. She sounds distracted, and she's gazing out over Corwin's Pattern. "You're sure this is safe?"

"Vere and Jerod have both walked it, as has Merlin. Brita should have no trouble."

Fiona looks at him and turns to Brita, hugging her with surprising strength. "You'll do just fine. Remember, whatever you see or hear, keep walking. Don't stop."

Brita accepts the hug and sends an encouraging squeeze back to her Mother.

Corwin comes to stand in front of Brita, and touches her forehead, as if offering her a blessing. "There are four veils," he says. "Go, and conquer."

Brita nods in acceptance of both the blessing and the advice.

"Don't forget to breathe. You've got the strength, determination and discipline to master this, but you might notice that your mind and your body may lose communication with each other. Keep them in check, as much as anything else." Reid adds with a kind smile.

Brita returns the smile and nods again with a slight bow to Reid to acknowledge his teachings - over all their time together. One last smile for the three and then she turns to the Pattern...

Brita closes her eyes. The negative of the sparkling image flashes in the darkness as she takes one breath and lets it out on a long, slow exhale. For several beats, she does not breathe and then, on a swift inhale, she opens her eyes and steps onto the path before her.

She glances down at the silver-white sparks around the ankles of her boots as she strides forward. The sensation reminds her of the aftereffects of Uncle Thor's hammer - tiny sparks, lightly pricking the skin, making the loose hairs around her twisted braid stand on end. She walks on and the sensation changes, becomes stronger - a pressure builds, trying to hold her back. She pushes on and suddenly...

....breaks free of Modi's grasp. He is laughing at her, taunting her inability to control the Berserker. "You shouldn't even have been given the Gift - a puny _girl_ with puny ideas. How could you even think that _you_ would be allowed to enter the Berserker Challenge?! You would never win anyways. You're just a girl." Cousin Magni is stacking boulders by the forest path to Idayoll. He jokes "Maybe, like Hrimthurs the Giant, I should use these stones to build a great wall that will keep foolish water girls from entering Valhalla." And they laugh.

Brita walks on, growing numb to the taunts. Sparks fly along her skin, tingling like goose bumps after a cold dip. She is swimming in the Lake of Memories. All the times she was unable to control her anger, all the times she let passion rule her head, culminating in the burning of the village...

... she could drown in these memories. The weight of them presses against her, like Modi holding her under on a lark. She can't breathe, has been under too long, and now she has lost her sense of Up. But she can't let them beat her. Modi, and even Cousin Magni - she thought he liked her - what do they know? They don't even smell real. She kicks out hard and breaks free of the darkness....

...to open her eyes to the Pattern before her. She has moved in steady progress about a third of the way around. A slight curve and a spiral back - the sparks are about knee high now. She gauges the distance forward. Was that the second veil she passed through? The memories of the childhood taunts still sting as she walks on.

In the end, they won, didn't they? The elders sent her away - because she was a girl? Unworthy of the Berserker she couldn't control? Whatever the reason, they sent her away, away with Master Reid. She walks on, not looking back, only forward now, like before. Leader, Teacher, ... Cousin - Master Reid showed her the wider world beyond the nine worlds of Yggdrasil. The paintings of Picasso, the music of Bach, the singing purple oceans of Zantra, the silence of the Foraging Marshes in Cantrel, Master Reid brought the variety to her life that was missing in the roots of Yggdrasil. Reaching out beyond that Center, she learned new ways...

Master Ngyen shakes his head ruefully at her probably twenty- seventh flailing attempt to balance on the single rope of the Lesson Bridge over the raging, rain swollen rapids in the River of Peace below. "Come now, Little Brook! Focus! Use your inner strength! Channel your Power to stretch out and anchor you. You are Strong, young one. Hang on the air like the Eagle; use what is around you and in you to walk The Way." And Brita breathes deep of the sweet, water scented air, straightens and ... slips off the rope into the cold water below. The churning water sends her to the bottom where the spinning sands sting her hands...

...and she realizes that the sparks off the Pattern are shooting up to mid-thigh, brushing her hands. The pressure is building again. She pushes forward, remembering on each slow step Master Ngyen's lessons in tranquility - step - endurance - step - balance step - and control. Another step: she had mastered the Lesson Bridge, finally, on the seventy-second attempt. Another Step: Master Ngyen had given her a simple smile of support as if he had always known she would do it this time. Another STEP: walking the Pattern should be easy compared to the Lesson Bridge. And Master Ngyen will be there to smile at her again as if he had always known she could...

...break through the Third Veil. The bright sparks are chest high now. She presses onward and for an instant is blinded by the swirling sparks...

...created by the hidden sun off the large, lazy snowflakes. She is so cold, numb from the tips of her toes to the top of her head. How long has it been? Days? Minutes? Hours? She can't see the Peak. They said she couldn't get there. She slogs onward...

...trudging through the mud, the weight of the yoke digging into her shoulders. This was the third, no fourth pass across the Deep Marsh to the Bamboo Forest. Master Ngyen hadn't even explained why she was gathering these stones. Another wall? A bridge? A path? She pulls her left foot free of the marsh clay but teeters and comes down hard, the red muck splashing up and coating her...

...vision with the anger, color of her rage and the flames licking the Pyre before her. Why did he have to die? He wasn't supposed to Die! The Path was clear! His Duty was to Survive and Rule, not Die! She inches forward - NO! FATHER! ...

... and the flames leap higher. They surround her, her own Pyre then. Why not? What was her Duty? Without him, that silent rock, what was she? A Water Girl, a nothing, an Angry Goddess, railing at the Pattern Narn Urd has woven in invisible threads? She has no Future; the threads are unraveling in her Pattern. She has no Duty, no Reason. The flames are lapping at her skin, eating away at the straps in her hair, covering her in a bright, deep Red...

...That Color - she slides one foot forward - Red, the color of Her hair, His hair. The other foot follows slowly. The flames are wild around her - in her - blowing her now unbound hair free. Red. Reason. Mother, Brother. Red. Duty. Mother, Brother, Father. Her heart, red, beats once, twice. Her blood, red, pulses once, twice. Reason. Duty...

... FAMILY. Brita screams her WILL, her FIRE, against the wall of flame...

... and steps through the Fourth Veil to the calm center of the Pattern. The echo of her Battle Cry rings silently through the chamber. Brita's hair slowly settles around her shoulders as if dropped by a dying wind. The glow of the Pattern glints off the long, thick, red tresses.

Another deep breath out and in and Brita raises her head, her gaze finding her Reason, her Duty beyond the sparkling light. A slight smile touches her face as she reaches into a pocket of her red jacket and draws forth a small set of cards, flipping the stack so that the bottom is face up towards those watching. Reid can just make out a red figure on the Trump. Brita fans the remaining cards out with one hand, three more figures - green, blue, and brown all

mixed with red - and the last card seems to be blues and white - a place.

The high flames of her Passage have died down. The glow is less intense. Brita pockets the cards, bows low to her Uncle. "Thank you, Uncle-King Corwin," drifts softly across the room, and she is gone.

Within the Pattern Chamber, somewhere in the neighborhood of three quarter-glasses or an hour has passed with Fiona watching nervously and Corwin occasionally offering her a comforting, yet fraternal touch.

"I couldn't see the cards. Where did she say she was going?" Corwin asks, his eyes casting between Fiona and Reid.

"It looked like her trump of Jotunheim, if I'm not mistaken... the Land of Giants in her home shadow. Perhaps she means to see how her father fared the Sundering." Reid looks to Fiona for reaction or confirmation.

Fiona nods. "She has expressed an intention to go home," the petite redhead agrees.

"Speaking of lineage, her father Vidar is the great grandson of Finndo, and thus only one generation further removed from most of my cousins. I don't suppose we've had much opportunity to determine how strong the Amber blood must be to pass along family traits? It occurs to me that he would be the same distance as Dara, and knowing her strengths or weaknesses in regard to the family ornaments or calling cards might be advantageous."

Fiona looks mildly surprised, mildly enough that Reid suspects Corwin doesn't catch it.

Reid smiles. Failing further response from either of them he adds, "I guess some research is in order at some point..."

"Absolutely," Fiona agrees.

"Also speaking of lineage," Reid adds, turning to Corwin, "do you know why my great grandmother's name is inscribed in the church upstairs?"

It's Corwin's turn to look surprised. "No. I have no idea. Where in the church did you find such a thing? Show me."

Reid returns to his smile. "Up next to the unicorn statue... 'Clothilde, Regina Parisii.' I do recall grandma Cymnea saying that her grandmother, too, was a queen. I'd forgotten the name of her kingdom, but it may have been Paris. I don't see how it could be the same one, though..."

Corwin frowns. "I think I should take a look at that. This place came complete with some 'retroactive history', as it were. I imagined it was to match the history of the place in Shadow that I--I modeled it on, I suppose--but I don't recall a queen of France named Clothilde. Maybe I should ask Bill and Alice. They might remember the Queens of France more accurately than I can."

He turns and offers his arm to Fiona. "Shall we go up?" he asks Reid.

"Yes," Reid replies, allowing Corwin to lead Fiona, and following them up.

[OOC: if yes, you can go on up and either stop to inspect Clothilde or go on back to Castle Paris]

[What, and miss out on blowing off some old dust?]

Once they arrive at the back of the chapel, Reid takes a closer look at the statues, their relationship in position to one another, and tries to identify any others besides Clothilde and the Unicorn. He allows Fiona and Corwin their own inspection, and any observations on their part will have his undivided attention.

All of the tombs back here have names. They're ancient; if they were in Amber, Reid would guess they dated back to his youth, or before he was born. Reid can trace the line of descent both ways from Clothilde thought the other monarchs of Paris: Radegund, Hildebrand, and Amalind, among others.

Any sign of Basina or Cymnea? Any way to see where Moins and Basina may be related? There are still some gaps that could be filled in Reid's ever growing parchment, which he's taken to calling 'Wiki' for some unexplainable reason.

No sign of either Cymnea or Basina, although Clothilde's epitaph doesn't name her children.

Some of the tombs speak of an ancestor, one Carol, who is occasionally referred to as "the Great".

It would be curious to see how she related to any of the herd...

"Carolus Magnus", so not a she. He seems to be the ancestor of Clothilde's line.

Corwin seems fascinated and somewhat surprised by all this, as if he didn't know what he was going to find when he began to inspect the tombs. He occasionally comments in wonder about some of the things he's seeing. Fiona, like Reid, is observing Corwin as much as she is the tombs themselves.

They could spend the rest of the afternoon here if Reid doesn't move them along.

Reid doesn't have anywhere to be, particularly...

Then they do remain there all afternoon, until the sunlight starts to fade and it becomes too difficult to read the epitaphs and examine the effigies without additional light. At that time, Corwin escorts them back to the castle.

Culturally, Paris is turn of the century Paris, with all that that implies. Reid rapidly finds himself among several circles of artists (think Picasso, Braques, et al., who are beginning to experiment with nonrepresentational art. He can remain in Castle Paris if he likes, but he can also choose a garrett (ahem) of his very own on the Left Bank.

Reid has no shortage of offers for his paintings, although the money economy is still a bit crude and he is sometimes paid in barter or foreign coin. He is also able to find musical engagements, and, should he desire them, intoxicants and the company of low women.

Reid will stay in Paris for a bit. He'd like to spend some time with Fiona, talking Trump, and Corwin, talking Pattern, without wearing out his welcome. When he's not pestering the elders, he'll get to know the city, its people, and its night life. He could continue to work on any outstanding trumps for the trump booth as well.

Brita is no longer in the chamber of Corwin's Pattern, but under an open sky. She barely has time to take in her surroundings before exhaustion and darkness claim her.

***

When Brita awakens, she's in bed. It takes her a panicked moment to remember that she's neither in Uxmal nor Castle Clarissa, but then she realizes that the bed is all wrong and what she was doing before she collapsed.

When she opens her eyes, there's a strange mop-haired figure sitting at the foot of the bed. "Hel-lo!" he says cheerfully, with a wide, toothy grin. "It's been a long time, Brita. You've been very busy. I'm so glad you came to see me after all these years."

"Great-grandfather," Brita acknowledges with a slight, tired smile. "You had fun building that first Pattern, didn't you? A true test of mettle for the Family."

"I don't suppose I thought of it as 'fun' at the time, but I think it must have been. It was only afterwards, when I saw what it cost, that I had time to think about things like that," Dworkin replies.

"You look hungry. Can I get you something to eat? Would you like a candy?" From out of nowhere, he pulls a white paper pocket of candies and offers them to Brita. "One won't spoil your dinner, and we shan't tell your mother."

Brita smiles another small smile - her eyes glazing with memories for a moment before she reaches out her hand for the treats. "Thank you, Great-Grandfather. I am hungry. I am also wondering where I am...." She up at him with an eyebrow raised as if to say 'are you going to give me a new puzzle now?'

The candy is sugary, and very flavorful. Brita's stomach tells her it's been a long time since she's eaten.

"Oh, you're quite safe. You came to me, to my place. When I realized it was you, I brought you in and put you to bed. Normally I'd have expected dear old Wixer to have some comments about strangers popping in like this, but he hasn't been around for a while. I'm a bit worried about him, actually."

Dworkin frowns, then dismisses that expression. "Nobody can get up here now unless I permit it. The way is closed, and even those who could come have other business. Unless, of course, they cheat, the way you did." His toothy smile returns.

"So what have you been up to, Brita, besides learning how to use your gifts? Is young Reid still with you? I haven't seen him in a very long time. He was a good student but terribly flighty. If he hadn't gone looking for his father ..." Dworkin shakes his head.

"I was so glad to see he was with you when we met before. I had almost given up hope of meeting him again. I should have known Osric's son would be a little craftier than that. And I suppose he's taught you some of that craft."

Brita finally manages to pry the last bit of the chewy candy off her teeth with her tongue. "Master Reid is well, Great-grandfather. He is with Mother and Uncle Corwin back at Paris, I presume as that is where I left them. Whether he taught me that craft, I cannot judge. He is as he is to me." Brita swings her legs off the bed and rises to stretch a little bit. "He did teach me some of the craft of painting Trumps, Great-grandfather, although I hear you are the Master at that. I have a sketch here..." Brita pulls out her small pack of cards and finds Conner's sketch. She is a little startled to find it no longer cold to the touch, but sketches come and go. She does a mental shrug and hands the picture to Dworkin. "It is not quite up to Master Reid's caliber, much less yours. Maybe you can help me to produce a true Trump of my Brother Conner?"

"Perhaps. It would be easier if he were here, of course. We'll have to look for him in a little while." Dworkin seems reasonably enthusiastic about the process.

Brita nods acceptance of his decision.

Brita then cocks her head to the side slightly and says, "Who could come, Great-grandfather? And why is the way closed to others?"

"That's the way it's supposed to be," says Dworkin. "People don't come up here any more. It's better that way."

He sounds a little sad. "Any of the blood could come, if they were clever, or used the way you did, but so few of them are. Or maybe they don't want to come any more. I showed Corwin the way, and I'm sure Random knows it too, now, but neither of them has come."

Brita moves to hug Dworkin.

Which he accepts with evident delight.

"They have been a little busy, Great- grandfather. Both are Kings now. Uncle Corwin has created a Pattern - the one I walked to get here - and is still trying to organize his new realm. King Random has had his hands full since the return of the troops from Grandfather Oberon's funeral. Amber is going the way of its creator, I think, and King Random was working to resolve that situation."

"Oh, yes," says Dworkin, having relinquished her. "I felt that. Didn't you? I suppose if you've just walked the Pattern, you wouldn't. But yes, Random's done what he can. He's not Oberon, you know, but he'll do his best. I suppose if she likes him, she must have some reason."

"Great-Grandmare?," Brita asks. "I have not met her yet, but Master Reid and I might have seen her passing in a strange shadow we came to on the way to Amber." Brita is looking for a window. "So Great-grandfather, can I help you prepare a dinner? Is it dinner here?" Brita is now looking around. Is there a window? "Oh, and I tried to tell my Mother and Master Reid that I was going to visit my Father. I would not want to worry them overly given that I had just been _rescued_..." Brita trails off, obviously trying to control her anger.

Brita thinks she's in a cave, actually; there aren't any windows, and the light comes from fire and candlelight.

"It's dinner if you want it to be, Brita. Let's go find something to eat, shall we?" He rises and offers Brita his hand. Brita can tell that he senses her anger, but he politiely doesn't say anything.

Brita accepts the hand as her temper drops down to normal levels. She will follow Great-grandfather Dworkin to wherever they might go for food. "Who is Wixer, Great-grandfather?"

"Wixer is the griffon that was set here to watch the place. For a long time, you know, I wasn't all here. Well, I'm still not all here, but more of me is here now that--" Dworkin's expression shifts, and with it something about his face. The pop-eyes and the cheeks aren't quite where they were.

"You know about all that, I think. In any case, Wixer used to be my guard. Shall we go look for him? I'll bet he'll have dinner with him."

As they talk, Dworkin leads her through some cave tunnels, and, eventually, out into the daylight.