Freeday Morning

Garrett creeps back into the cottage barefoot and bars the door behind him. Silently, he climbs back into the loft, strips off his trousers and crawls under the blanket, pulling it up around his chin. He's exhausted after his midnight walk with Lilly, but as hard as he tries, he can't sleep.

Random knows. Lilly told him. Regardless of what she said, Garrett is sure Random must think him some low coward to send Lilly to do his dirty work. He can't wait any longer. In his mind, Garrett dusts off his original plan, the one he came up with before he ever met Lilly in the library. It isn't foolproof, but it'll have to do.

He rolls it over and over, reviewing every detail and possible complication. Eventually, he drifts off to sleep. And dreams.

It's the web again, but different. It glows more brilliantly than ever before. More blue, less silver. There are circular swirls that Garrett never noticed before. It looks more pathlike - less like a web. But the biggest difference is that he's on the other side. The homeward side, looking back.

Something on the far side catches his eye, and he goes to the edge of the...Pattern, had she called it? Glancing down to make sure he doesn't touch it, he peers across, trying to make out the disturbance. Through the glow, he sees it's a boy, perhaps nine years old. The lad is looking down, his dark hair obscuring his face. He is walking on the glowing line, struggling for every step, and he appears ready to panic.

"Keep pushing, lad," Garrett calls encouragingly across the Pattern. "You can do it." For he knows who this boy is. It's him. Garrett stands with his hands on his knees, concentrating on the boy, mentally urging him forward.

A slight movement on Garrett's left startles him. He turns to see Lilly, in her knight's uniform, standing silently at the edge of the Pattern beside him, her silky hair hanging loose. She stares at the boy struggling on the Pattern, unmoving. Her left hand clutches the hilt of her sword in its scabbard tightly as if for comfort.

"Come on....don't stop," a voice behind Garrett breathes. Garrett turns quickly to his right and Random is standing there, close behind his right shoulder. He too stares at the boy, and his face is lined with concentration. He is close enough to bump into Garrett, but he doesn't. In fact, he doesn't seem to notice that Garrett is there.

"What are you doing here?" Garrett asks him. There is no answer. Random appears not to have heard. Frustrated, Garrett turns back to the boy on the Pattern, who is still straining to make headway. "You have the blood, son! Keep going! You can beat it!" he calls out to him.

The boy, closer now, hears him and raises his head, grinning a grin that Garrett has seen in the mirror many times before. But it's not Garrett. The hair is right, the grin is right. But his eyes are dark and almond-shaped. Garrett staggers backward. Random is not there to break his fall.

Garrett awakes with a start. By the sound of the crickets chirping outside, he can tell it is still well before dawn. He sits up, shudders, and rakes both hands through his hair, breathing heavily. Deciding that sleep is now impossible, he throws off the blanket and quietly gets dressed, choosing the best set of work clothes he has. He doesn't want to meet the King looking like a grub, but he doesn't want to arouse suspicion by wearing anything too nice, either.

Garrett tiptoes down the ladder and pokes up the coals in the fireplace, quietly placing more wood on to build up the fire. He scrounges in the cabinets and comes up with three potatoes. He slices them and fries them in a skillet with some lard. When they're done, he dumps them onto a plate, pours a glass of water, and digs in.

The sound and smell of the food rouse Garrett's family. By the time he's got the potatoes cooking good, his mother is there, greeting him with a kiss before slicing up more potatoes and throwing them in for his father. His sisters are probably awake, but they don't seem to be ready to get up just yet.

Donovan hasn't come out yet; he is still dressing quietly.

"Sorry to wake you, Mum. I tried to be quiet," Garrett says between bites. He's bleary-eyed and though he eats with as much enthusiasm as ever, he's doing it with his left elbow on the table and his head propped up on his hand.

"Nonsense. Your father would have had to be up in a quarter-glass anyway," Anna says, ruffling Garrett's hair affectionately. "What's on your plate for this morning, besides potatoes?"

Garrett chuckles. "I wish it was just potatoes," he says wryly, absently raking his fingers through his hair before taking another bite of breakfast.

He chews slowly, watching her as she turns back to her cooking. 'Your mother fought to keep you.' 'She did right by you.' The voices from conversations gone by remind him of what's at stake. He never thought before about what she gave up to keep him safe. She must have always worried whether people knew, or what they would do if they found out. He worries about her now. But done is done.

He had hoped to be gone before anyone was up so he could just do this with as little mess as possible. But thinking about Lilly's and Folly's words makes him pause. He owes her the truth. He's been so concerned about Random that he hasn't thought about her. It's not fair not to warn her that things are about to happen.

He starts to speak, with no idea of what he's going to say. "Mum, can I ask you something?" he asks quietly, trying not to rouse his dozing sisters.

"Of course," Anna says absent-mindedly. Her mind is mostly on her cooking right now.

Garrett considers his words and his tone carefully. "What did you like about Random? I mean," he adds quickly, "you're a smart lady. There must've been something about him besides looks that attracted you." He hopes she's calm enough to answer, because he really wants to hear more about the time she spent with the man who was his father. But he braces himself in case she's not.

Anna turns back to look at her son. "Why do you want to talk about him?" she asks, her eyes narrowing a little.

"Because he's me father," Garrett says softly, but matter-of-factly. "Not me Dad, but me father. I want to know what he was like. What you remember. You've told me the bad stuff, but there had to be good, too, or you wouldn't've had anything to do with him." His eyes do not let go of hers, but the corners of his lips start a smile. "C'mon, Mum. We're gonna have to talk about this sooner or later, and it's quiet now."

"I don't see why we have to talk about it all," Anna replies, her chin setting. "I don't have anything to say about him."

Garrett is familiar with the chin set. He sighs heavily and runs a hand across his face as if he has a headache. "Fine, Mum. Have it your way," he says with exasperation as he clears his empty plate.

He sits back down and yanks on his boots. Screw it. So much for trying to warn her. As he stands and reaches for his cloak, he mutters, "I'm leaving early. I've got things to do."

"Aren't you going to wait for your father?" Anna asks, turning back to her cooking. Garrett can hear the creaking of the bedstead that suggests his father's rising from putting on his boots.

"Nah, he hasn't even eaten y...," he begins, then reconsiders upon hearing the familiar creak. He sighs and tosses his cloak over the back of his recently vacated chair. "Oh, all right. I reckon a couple more minutes won't hurt." Besides, Dad's easier to talk to, he thinks as he slouches back into the chair.

And in a moment, Donovan does come out of the little chamber his parents share.

"Good morning," he says to Garrett in a voice that sounds altogether too cheery to a fellow who spent too much of the middle of last night outside talking. He comes over to Anna and kisses her.

"Mornin'," Garrett mumbles as he once again rests his head on his hand with his elbow on the table.

"You're up and ready awfully early. Working with that pretty new paint today?" Donovan asks, sliding into the chair that sits at the end of the table.

"Huh?" Garrett looks surprised, then, "Oh, yeah. Prob'ly," he recovers when he realizes 'paint' means 'horse' and not 'brush'. "I've got some things to take care of first, though."

After the briefest pause, he adds, "Dame Lilly needs me to run something into town." He looks down at the table and picks at a small scratch with his fingernail.

"Isn't it--oh, yes!" Donovan says, covering up his initial reaction not very well. Anna turns and looks at the pair of them. Donovan straightens a little and says, "Just make sure you're back down as soon as you're done with her errand. I know there's a lot to do in town, but don't you dawdle."

"I won't," Garrett says truthfully as he leans back in his chair and begins fidgeting impatiently.

[Donovan] doesn't say that Garrett's recent slacking will get to be a subject of gossip, but Garrett can see that's how Anna is taking it.

Garrett looks back at his mother defensively. "It's castle business and running messages IS part of me job," he justifies in response to her unspoken criticism. I'm counting on that, he adds silently.

"I wouldn't want anyone thinking you were taking advantage of your father's position to get the best jobs for yourself," Anna says defensively.

Garrett opens his mouth to object, but thinks better of it and just glares. A fight with his mother would only hold him here longer. It's not worth it.

She turns back around and finishes with the potatoes, then brings the hot breakfast to the table for her husband.

"Thanks, dear," Donovan says, and begins to tuck in.

Garrett sits restlessly, fingers and feet tapping in rhythm, staring at his father as he eats. Neither of his parents could miss his itchiness.

Donovan looks at him, then at Anna. "Well, if you already have work to do, there's no point in you dawdling here. Go on up."

The words are not even past Donovan's lips when Garrett bounds out of his chair, grabs his cloak and strides to the door. "I'll make it quick. See you down there," he tells his father on his way out. As an afterthought, he steps back in and gives his mother the obligatory peck on the cheek before he leaves.

The fresh air of daybreak clears Garrett's mind as he jogs toward the stable, and he starts to let go of his anger over his mother's stubbornness. It's been twenty years. Why can't she just let it go? he wonders. Unless it was THAT bad. He shudders and breathes the crisp air deeply to shove the thought from his head.

He bypasses the office and goes directly to the board in the main stable to check himself in. On his way to the tack building to get his saddle, he passes the farrier's workshop and pokes his head in. Pritchel doesn't usually come in until Terce, so Garrett doesn't expect to him to be there. In fact, he hopes he's not. He glances quickly around on the workbench and the floor, looking for spare horseshoe nails.

Pritchel is not, in fact, present. Garrett has no trouble finding a few nails in the workshop.

Garrett picks up a nail off the bench. These are stout iron nails, square in shape with sharp points, gradually widening to 3/8" rectangular heads. They are not easily bent. Pritchel sometimes shapes them with a hammer into rings for the servants' children. Garrett's sisters each have one of "Pritchel's Jewels." Garrett looks for the hammer, then catches himself. No. He takes the nail between his thumbs and forefingers and bends it into a right angle. Grinning widely, he picks up four more nails, pockets all five and continues on to the tack building.

Garrett takes his saddle to the stock barn, where the staff-grade horses are kept. This barn is nowhere near as opulent as the royal stable. The outer structure and floors are still stone and the walls are whitewashed, but there is no tile or painted latticework in this barn. The stalls are made of sturdy wood and the lanterns are simple iron, not polished brass. But it's comfortable and most important, just as clean as the main stable.

After tossing the saddle on a stand, Garrett scoops a handful of oats and opens the door to a nearby stall. Bet at first looks miffed at him, but when he smells the oats, he forgives Garrett for reneging on his promised run and chows down greedily. "You ready to go?" Garrett asks his horse, eyes sparkling in anticipation.

He leads Bet out of the stall and arranges tack and saddle. As a last step, he adjusts the stirrups to ride high, like a jockey. At this move, Bet fairly prances, making any further adjustments difficult. Garrett laughs. "That's why I do that last, mate. You know what it means." It means a _fast_ ride to town.

By the time Garrett is finished, the sun has cleared the horizon. He leads his excited horse up to the main stable and ties him outside, nodding a greeting to the other grooms reporting for work. Near the duty board is a small open room (commonly referred to by stablehands as the "groom closet") where each groom stores his tools and livery. Garrett sheds his cloak and dons the official livery that marks him as a castle messenger. Then he enters the office to get one of the post pouches, hoping that by now the horsemaster's shift change is complete.

Garrett's father is, indeed, in the office. "Well?" he asks Garrett.

"Which 'well' do you want? There've been so many," Garrett asks with a smile as he pulls a leather mail bag down from a peg on the wall and throws it over his shoulder.

Glancing at both doors to make sure no one is within earshot, he crosses to the desk. Very softly, he says, "He knows. Dame Lilly talked to him yesterday. She told me last night, after I left the lib'ry." It is the truth. No need to say how long after. And he certainly is not saying anything about Lilly breaking into their house.

"I've gotta try to talk to him today. Nobody came looking for me after I left here yesterday, did they?" he asks.

"No," says Donovan. His eyes are wide. "Is there really an errand for Dame Lilly? What are you going to do, Garrett?"

"Yeah, sort of..." Garrett looks down and runs his fingers through his hair. "No. Not really," he murmurs. He never could lie to his father.

Garrett sighs and fidgets with some blank parchment held down by a horseshoe on the desk. "If I can get into his office as an official messenger, I reckon I can talk to him alone without looking suspicious," he explains. "It's not like it'll be a surprise. Lilly thought he'd prob'ly want to speak with me today anyway. This way, he can tell me how he wants this handled without anyone overhearing, if he chooses."

Donovan can see the determination in Garrett's eyes. "But it won't look official if the message doesn't come from town. And it can't come from town if I'm not there. That's why I was going."

He pulls one piece of parchment out from under the horseshoe and glances around the desk. "Got a quill?" he asks, with the seriousness of a man preparing to write his last will and testament.

"You don't need to go to town. I'll send you up; if anyone asks, you can say there's a message from me. That should get you into the King's office, at least to see the secretary. You wouldn't get any further with a message from someone in town," Donovan points out.

Garrett looks at Donovan dubiously. "Not to say you're not important, Dad, but is a message from the stables urgent enough to get in to see him? I don't want to leave a note with Gilt Winter. I was gonna say I had something from Sir Archer for the King's eyes only and I was ordered to wait for his response."

Garrett ponders the idea and shrugs, "I reckon I could say you ordered me to wait for a response just as well, but..." he trails off and chews his lip, still unsure.

Donovan thinks about it. "Probably you should go into town. It's not likely that he's even awake right now. By the time you go down and get back up here, he might be in his office. If they find out you're not from Sir Archer, though, I don't know what you'll do."

"Well, he's the one that would decide that and I reckon he'll understand why I did it. I hope. If he throws me in the dungeons, though, I won't make it back to muck out the stalls. Feel free to sack me," Garrett grins.

Garrett spots the quill and ink well behind some record books. He takes them and the piece of parchment to a shelf along the wall and scrawls a short note. When the ink dries, he folds it carefully, puts it in the post bag and takes the supplies back to the desk.

He looks up at Donovan and hesitates for just a moment. "I reckon I'm off," he says nervously. "Wish me luck."

"Luck," Donovan says, and watches his son go out.

[Marius] will see which Knights are in the castle according to the nearest authority on such things.

Marius makes it sound like it is a casual question, not a demanding one, and so, no, Jovian has no need to snip time off of his delicate negotiations with the keepers of entropy.

The understeward reports that Dame Lilly is with Her Majesty, but none of the other senior members of the order have returned to the Castle by normal or obvious means. She seems to think this is a perfectly normal way to describe the comings and goings of members of the royal family.

When Marius sends a note for Lilly, he receives a reply suggesting they break their fast in the Red Room, the traditional place for knightly meetings.

Marius considers that a lovely idea, and sends an response acknowledging his pleasure at the prospect.

Marius takes on the responsibility of providing refreshments (or rather, the delegation to the appropriate personnel to provide ingredients that show a variety of tastes and nutrition) as well as making sure should Brennan or Jovian happen to come across them, a very brief invite is included amidst all the usual paperwork that accumulates during a nobleman's vacancy. (Nothing more extravagant than, "Hey, dudes, breakfast party at the Red Room on this date, and you're invited," in an easy scrawl.)

With all that said and done (provided he does not run across a wandering monster, or a Stab Your Cousin card draw...) Marius will arrive a little early, having woken from a strange dream. He'll be drinking a very sweet and spicy coffee, more like what a coffee shop in the US would call a hot chai.

Cambina sticks her head into the Red Room. "Good morning, Marius."

Marius' lazy smile brightens at Cambina's greeting. "Ah, it is, it is," he says. "And to you, too," he passes on the wish.

Thus welcomed, Cambina smiles and comes in.

Not long after, Lilly arrived, dressed in black trousers and a simple red top with gold buttons. Her sword is, as always, at her side. There is something peaceful about her countenance. She seems a bit more at ease with the universe then usual. Marius is even greeted with the hint of a smile as she says a simple good morning to both he and Cambina. Making her way into the room, she fixes herself a hearty breakfast and a cup of tea before settling down near Marius. As usual she seems content to let someone else begin the conversation.

Marius extends greetings of the sun to Lilly as well, and sits in fairly comfortable silence with her for a moment or two. "Dream anything unusual lately?" he asks, to start the conversation.

Cambina, who has fixed herself a cup of tea, and had, perhaps, been about to say something, suddenly finds that this topic of conversation has her interest. She sits down and waits for Lilly to answer.

Lilly take a long sip of her tea. "No. I have been relatively dream free. I can not decide if that is comforting or if I am disappointed by it. How about you?"

Cambina looks at Marius, obviously quite interested in his answer, as well.

"Oh, I dream," he says, deliberately both vague and dismissive. His smile breaks through, however, and he shrugs. "Last night I dreamt that watery towers of Rebma represented individual island states, nations of intricate networks of etiquette and levels and levels of bargaining. I stood in a bower of delicate flowering vines that held tentacled hands with each other, listening as the tall woman with black hair known as the Lady of the Garden lectured me on how to best approach her rival." He shrugs again. "I've never even been to Rebma," he points out, chuckling.

He leans forward, his cup held between both hands. "But that's a side point as to why I wanted to meet. Still, it can wait - Cousin," he refers to Cambina, "Did you require something?"

"Oh," says Cambina, "I was just wondering if this was a full meeting of your council." She glances at the doorway. "I think it must not be."

Marius shakes his head. Apparently he may have received a note in the morning in regards to Jovian's regrets. He sighs. "You haven't seen four ambitious midshipmen and a hound dog, have you?" He makes it sound like some sort of aphorism.

Cambina looks at him, her eyebrows raised. "If Uncle Caine is done with them, I'll send them your way, if I decide not to take advantage of them myself." She turns to leave.

Marius' smile is more of a wry smirk. "I must admit that I am torn between wishing you good luck and pleading for you to be gentle with them. Should I pass on any message to others of the Council should I wander to them?" he asks Cambina before she leaves.

[Marius continues]:
"Now that the King returns we separate, weighing anchor from reality, much like our beloved home." He looks around as if encompassing everything around as 'home.' "Which is reason one for my invitation," he says to Lilly in an aside. "It has been suggested to me by no less than the King that my fortune may lie elsewhere. Have you spoken to Knight Ce'e?" The question seems to be connected to his previous sentence...at least in Marius' head.

"No. I have not. I had been training... Ce'e but that routine was disrupted by Aislings disappearance."

"That is...unfortunate," Marius admits. "I had..." his expression suddenly bursts into another of those bright smiles, "theories." He finishes his cup, wrapping a hand around its warmth for a moment before continuing. "Do you think we should address the Knights and have them prepared for the Exodus?"

"I would like to have a firmer grip on the timetable if at all possible before we cause anyone to panic. Of course, it is probably wise to at least begin suggesting the possibilities. If we can keep this from being a complete shock, all the better I suppose." Lilly takes a sip of her drink. "But before we get to far ahead of ourselves, do you wish to explain your theories or is it best for me not to know?"

"Theories." Marius looks serious for a moment, and almost sad. "I have many of them," his smile returns, but the sadness haunts his eyes. "Let me conduct a chain of supposition. I do not understand the methodology of affines and affinage. I wonder somewhat if the firelilies would qualify, but that is an entirely different discussion."

A discussion that would interest Lilly if her expression is to be believed. She does however allow him to go on without interuption.

Marius continues, but does seem to mark it down for a later discussion of theories.

"Let us suppose for a moment that Ce'e is somehow connected in a, well, metaphysical manner to our little lost spy. What does that mean?

"Take a pessimistic case first. Should Aisling have been connected to its former masters, a situation I recall quite clearly that it was unable to completely deny, then what are the odds that Ce'e would similarly be? Do you recall where Ce'e was during the attack on the coronation ball? We know that something wanted Aisling enough to grab it from our Uncle Caine, a man I certainly would not want to cross." His smile increases a notch. "Was Ce'e not important or was it better to leave it here? What has it learned of us? You, my lady, are capable of seeing some of the possibilities I am espousing."

She nods. Oh yes, she thinks. I see them quite clearly.

"I ask myself, `Why wouldn't have someone, say our aforementioned Uncle Caine, have taken care of this, should it be obvious to someone as unused to scheming as myself?" Because it's a Knight problem. Our problem. One we may have neglected to the danger of Amber," a wry twist to his smile, "and now that he has returned, the King."

There is obviously more to his thinking, but he's leaving off here to let Lilly make her own comments.

"Have you ever tried speaking to Ce'e?" before allowing for an answer she continues on. "I have. I think it would perhaps be far easier to gain insight from a two year old. Of course that is insight in and of itself, is it not?" she shrugs. "It was very fearful of it's own impending mortality. Of course it was not created in a way we understand and I do not believe it would die in such a way either. It wanted protection. Evidently it believed someone or something would wish it taken care of. Funny how it has only just occurred to me that it may have been most fearful of my presence even as I was trying to reassure it."

"The simple and the fearful play to our interest," Marius says, some gears whizzing in his Brand-remade mechanical brain... erm. Strike that latter. "The simple because we are apt to answer their questions in hopes of teaching them enough to answer our own, the fearful because we wish to be seen as protectors, not those who rule through cruelty." He smiles more in the manner of someone pressing their lips together rather than with any real mirth. "I can think of few better ways to insinuate one's self into a place of knowledge. Still, we need not have any doubt that Aisling was a spy: it was admitted. While I think our fellow Knight may have regretted certain actions in retrospect, that is a danger we can understand." He shrugs. "I wonder what Chaos knows of honour." It's a throwaway thought, but he jumps back on it after an instant's thought. "I wonder what protection it needs, and if there's anyone here with the ability to provide it." He smiles, but it looks tired. "Truly, I wonder what it's good for."

Lilly takes a moment before answering, "Following the logic you have set out, Ce'e is either good for absolutely nothing. That might explain why he was disregarded by whoever liberated Aisling. Or he is a perfectly good spy, which is why he has been allowed to remain. Or a way has not been devised to liberate him as well. I sincerely doubt that last option. I am unnerved by the second. And the first? Well let me just say, completely off the record, if he is of no use to our enemies, he is probably of no use to us either."

"I think you have covered it adequately, but it does not take into account the possibility of Ce'e being useful in the future. I was wondering, for example, if..." he trails off for a moment. "I wouldn't know how it would be done, but if in addition to being able to eat the memories of an individual, could one implant them? Or even if that is something that is being done through our dreams?" he laughs. "He could very well be a sleeper, if you forgive the potential pun."

"I suppose you could be correct," Lilly responds thoughtfully. "It comes down to this I suppose; is Ce'e a greater asset or liability. That is something we have to determine. Having liabilities freely roaming the castle is not something I favor." Lilly was not entirely heartless. She did not take any sort of pleasure in disposal of people or things. However her need to protect those she cared for completely outweighed any loyalty she might feel towards this knight. She would do what needed to be done.

"I will speak with Ce'e," Marius decides. Something of Lilly's manner seems to be picked up by him, and he emphasizes. "It is my worry, and I will take that as my responsibility." There's a niggling amusement in it, though, perhaps something in the line of, "Besides, if I have to kill it, I don't want your reputation besmirched." He sighs, leaning back, and picks at what's left on his plate, following it up with a genuine smile. He drops the snarky comment that comes to his lips as way too snarky to be let free, and instead leans forward again. "Will the Queen be off to the new Realm, do you know?"

"I assume, eventually. I am not sure when. I believe I may be getting relieved of my duty for a bit. The King seems to think I need a life or something like that. Besides I would like to be able to take some time to understand my abilities after my pattern walk." Lilly says in a very matter of fact sort of way.

Marius' permanent grin expands in a sudden thunderbolt-sort-of-way. "Congratulations!" he says, and he seems to really mean it. "So." He lets out a breath he didn't know he had been holding, and tilts his head. "He tried to send me away, too. I wonder." He spends a moment doing exactly that. "Those of us who held on will leave, and the place will fade behind us." He looks sad for a moment, then shrugs. He raises his (empty) cup to her. "To new beginnings. You will do fabulously."

Her expression is thoughtful as well. Amber did not having the meaning for it that it did for so many others but even she was affected by its imminent demise. "Thank you." she says simply. "Let us hope the future brings us favor, and the past remains in the past."

When Marius leaves his meeting with the knight(s?) someone adresses him from behind, in one of the corridors of the castle.

"Marius! I have been looking for you!" It is Ossian, cheerful as he usually is when meeting Marius. Marius might note that Ossian dropped his usual 'Cousin' when addressing him.

Marius smiles, turning around to place Ossian in view. "I certainly hope I have not been difficult to find," he suggests, with a very, very mild teasing note to his voice. "How can I be of service?" he asks, and his voice is a little more sincere than his expression suggests.

"I am leaving soon. To look for my traces of my parents, primarily. So I was wondering if you'd like to join me on my expedition?" Ossian says very simply, although he stresses 'primarily' in an odd way.

Marius' smile seems to fade a little, as he spends some time in consideration. "I, too, have been considering leaving," he says. "I do not know exactly where my path will take me, but I cannot see that it would hurt to walk a way with company." His smile returns, even brighter than before. "It sounds like an adventure!" he laughs. "From where and when shall we start?"

Ossian is grinning: "This is going to be fun. I have a few more things to do here before leaving, but should be done in a day of two. When can you be ready?"

"That seems a reasonable amount of time to make myself ready as well. Shall we meet at breakfast, the day after tomorrow?"

"Sounds reasonable." Ossian says brightly "Eating breakfast before leaving, I mean.

"Are we taking horses as well?" Marius truly does not know whether or not Ossian can ride. "Armor, weaponry, the whole..." he makes a circle-like gesture, "regalia, or are we travelling light and as incognito as powers of our type can?"

"Well, I think that the king would be sorely dissapointed with us if we weren't armed."

Marius represses his smirk mostly successfully.

"Other than that..." Ossian shrugs "Heh. I haven't worn a serious armour since well before the sundering. Horses is a good idea. I guess I will do some shadowshifting guided by smell towards the end, however. Hopefully that works with horses around. It's funny that I remember the smell of the place."

"If you get past the smell of the horses," Marius says with a wrinkled nose and a chuckle.

"Other than that, I would prefer to be as incognito as possible. Having to negotiate trade deals for Amber in every other shadow doesn't thrill me at all."

Marius nods enthusiastically, agreeing.

"As from where we should start; we could start from here, I guess, or I have two or three Trumps we could use if we want to start from somewhere else."

"I suppose we should start as close to the trail as we can get. Do you have a plan of where to begin? Does it..." [Marius] pauses. "Does it perhaps take us near Chaos?"

Ossian bites his lower lip. "You know. I don't even know where the trail starts. I think we should go looking for the orphanage where I spent the first years of my life. I don't know where it is, though. Probably on this side of the Tree, from what I remember of it."

"Do you want to go close to chaos?" he adds.

Marius smiles. "It depends on how my next meeting goes," he says, and there's a level of anxious anticipation there. "I don't...ever...want to go to Chaos. The King and I..." his smile deepens, "had a discussion." He shakes his head, suddenly, as if something else occurs to him. "I think this fits his orders," he says, and it's kind of a "fill-in-the-rest-of-the-sentence" kind of response as if he changed his mind about what he was going to say.

"You want to go looking for something? What?"

"Oh, the usual. Ultimate Cosmic Power, a nice girl, and maybe a puppy." He's still shrugging it off. He smiles a little bit sadly. "I have never really cared to find out who my father was...if it was going to be important, my mother would have told me. That she was of the Blood was pretty much the only real thing in my background that had any relevance."

Ossian nods "And now, when she is dead? You obviously got some questions." Ossian says this very carefully, not wanting to hurt.

Marius laughs aloud, hopefully dispelling any of Ossian's concerns. "Oh, give me a single sentence and I'll find a dozen questions from it. Less a sign of wit than an overactive curiosity mixed with a healthy dose of suspicion. If it had been of importance, wouldn't she have stayed with him? I've considered the worst - that it could be one of my Uncles, or even..." he laughs, shaking his head, "grandfather. If so, the phrase, `It would be better not to raise the issue' becomes even more amusing. It was probably some briefly intense fling," there's a little bit of spite in the word, "in Shadow, and I was better off not knowing." He sighs. "I'm sure you've had the same concerns. `Who's holding a secret, and why?'" He shrugs. "Of course I sometimes wonder if maybe I'm wrong, and I'm being too modest. Maybe my father is dangerous, afterall." He shrugs. "What kinds of secrets keep their potency after time? That's what I want to know."

"That's a meta-question, I think." Ossian says "An obvious answer would be 'The secrets that still are remembered.' Heh. Let's start with my orphanage, then. If we are... lucky... we might find hints even to your question there. In the answer to mine."

"Then... We can see what we want to do."

Marius raises his eyebrows jointly (aha--it isn't Julian! [erm]) in amused anticipation. "We'll start there," he agrees. "And where our feet take us, well, that's where we'll wander. See you then, Cousin."

Ossian grins: "See you."

As Folly walks down a corridor she hears a familiar sound of feet from behind. The voice is even more familiar.

"Folly, wait!" It is Ossian.

Folly stops and turns. Ossian can see that though she is dressed for the baths in a large fluffy robe, she's carrying Fathom with her, scratching him behind the ears as she walks. She smiles warmly at her cousin, but the urgency in his voice has brought concern into her eyes and her own voice.

"G'morning, cousin," she says as he catches up to her. "What's up?"

"Oh. Nothing." Ossian answers in an off-hand manner. "Well,...something. Me and cousin Marius are going for a little shadow trip. And the king wanted someone to keep an eye on us."

Folly raises her eyebrows: Because-he-thinks-you're-planning-to-make-mischief? they seem to ask.

Ossian shakes his head. But just a little.

Folly will probably get the feeling that Ossian does not want her to worry very much about it. "I mean could you, eh, just Trump me every third day or so? Check that we aren't kidnapped or anything?"

"I guess this means you're not coming to Xanadu for a while?" Folly looks disappointed at this, but she smiles and seems to relax a bit. "Of course, I'd be happy to keep an eye on you. Though I'd hardly worry about kidnappers with you two. I suspect you'd outwit anyone who tried such a thing."

Ossian looks sceptical. "Hopefully, yes."

Her smile grows playful. "Y'know, I may be traveling a bit too, for the next couple days -- so we should make a game of it. Each time I call, we should tell each other a story about our travels -- but of course we needn't stick to things that have actually *happened*...."

Ossian grins "Now _that_ is a splendid idea. I might want to prolong my journey just because of that."

"Oh!" Folly says, grinning and bouncing on her toes a little, "now I'm torn between asking you where you're going and not wanting to spoil the story. But I think I'd rather not spoil it. If I can't figure it out by the time you return, you can tell me then. And then I'll show you the waterfall." Her eyes sparkle with excitement. "You're gonna love it."

"I hope so." Ossian reaches out to scratch Fathom between the ears. "Remind her to call me, will you?"

Fathom merely purrs in response.

He turns back to Folly "Enjoy your bath, sister. And don't forget to trump me."

"Of course -- how could I possibly?" Folly smiles and gives Ossian a playful peck on the cheek. "Travel safe, brother. Remember, no getting kidnapped -- unless she's *really* cute." She winks.

Then, humming a bouncy little tune, she continues on her way to the baths.