Underwater Dinner

Rilsa opens the door and gestures for Jerod to lead the way to dinner.

Jerod accompanies his mother, offering his arm as an escort as a good son of Rebma should, immersed to the old mannerisms though now with a conscious understanding of the implications.

"Vere seeks aid in helping his people." Jerod says, once he is comfortable that his mother and he are out of casual earshot of any passersby. "His father was greviously injured during the after- effects of the war. It's part of how I got to be on the Regency Council. Gerard had me as his prime minister of sorts. Not a task he would have handed out if he could have done it himself.

"Vere's homeland is affected by civil strife. The reflections of the war carry over to other lands. He had hoped to obtain troops in Amber to help him in defending his mother's interests against the usurper. When he heard about Rebma, he suspected that such aid might be more suitable coming from here. Dannan is a land ruled by women. He felt that men accustomed to such rule in Rebma would be more amiable to settling to it once they had helped in its liberation.

"I thought it might be reasonable. I wasn't sure if he'd get too many of our males, but there are always outsiders from the Seaward...those who are comfortable around a matriarchy who might be suitable to his task. I'd have a better idea as to who to contact, and I could speak to grandmother as well with perhaps better hopes than he could, being a stranger. It's possible to gain from an alliance with them, if we're careful. They would owe us, after all, if we were to help them."

He looks at Rilsa as they walk. "And because I like him, though I'd never admit it to him. I could have grown up like him, had the circumstances been different. He had a father who showed up intermittently at best it seemed. I had a Dad. It made me wonder sometimes how things might have been different."

"Hmm. I can see why you'd like him. He reminds me of Gerard, but more...masculine, in a way. Bookish is the surface term I'm looking for, I think."

Jerod nods, the term appropriate to his mother's usage.

"Are you sure of his motives? Even if Mother were to allow him to recruit here, I don't think she'd want to let him recruit more than a company. She's not really comfortable with either mercenaries or with armed groups she doesn't control."

The door to the dining area is ahead.

Jerod slows his pace just a little a bit to be sure that he completes his answer before they get to within range of the dining area. "To date Vere has done nothing to make me question his motives. Were he a redhead I'd be more suspicious naturally, though more because of my own filters towards them than anything. His loyalty to his parents appears to be without question. He will do nothing to cause his homeland harm though he recognizes that negotiations between kingdoms requires give and take...sometimes of an unpleasant nature as well. I do not see him bringing an entire army to his home either. He lacks the skill of my uncles in assembling and commanding such troops, as well as guiding them on long journeys. A company is about what I figure he'd be comfortable with."

"Your grandmother will want concessions for the right to do so. Will he be prepared to negotiate for them?"

"He and I have an understanding that his troops will be gathered and depart once they are gathered. They do not need to be armed here as he intends to return to Amber to pick up a couple of cousins for support. He can arm them there. I just wish there was a faster way to get them to Amber without walking them up the stairs, through Paris and onward."

"Hmm. Your father used to leave reasonably quickly and mysteriously. There's an old husband's tale that says that for harmony in a house, people should leave by the same door they entered. If that's true, your father was working strongly to make Rebma disharmonious. That was all before he fell out with your grandmother, of course. Re-fell out."

Jerod smiles. "Well, Dad never could pass up an opportunity to stir the pot somewhere. Anywhere I suppose. I suspect he vanished from grandmother just to see her try to figure out how he did it. Course, I won't be verifying that anytime soon.

"As for Vere...he will negotiate. What he is prepared to offer however, is up to him." and he looks at his mother. "I won't tip the hand to early towards grandmother. I'm sure she'll figure out what she needs when she meets him. Of course, she could always refuse to let him do what he needs to. In which case, someone else might acquire the troops on his behalf. And then, that mysterious individual would have the gratitude of Vere and his father, and Dannan....and grandmother would not."

Jerod then looks towards the dining hall. "I'm famished. Shall we attend upon dinner? I do hope the cooks have made Matasian salmon steaks. I've missed having those."

Rilsa smiles. "If they didn't, I'll ask them to make them tomorrow for you.

"Jerod, after dinner, or perhaps tomorrow, remind me that I have--something--for you. Seeing you again drove it right out of my mind until now." She squeezes his arm affectionately. "I'll try not to forget it again."

Jerod nods, curious as to her comment, but willing to let it pass. He is also eager to get on to dinner. "Tomorrow for late breakfast then." he says, turning to escort her to the dining hall.

Vere had already changed into court dress from the Isles before he met Baroness Cornelia. He's wearing a tunic of deep blue edged with cloth of gold, over a dark gray silk shirt and dark blue breeches. He wears knee-high black leather boots, and a wide black leather belt decorated with golden images of a running stag. He wears a torc of gold inscribed with his personal symbol, and around his head he wears a dark brown leather circlet of elaborate Celtic knotwork, containing stylized images of ravens, stags, and crescent moons.

The sword and dagger are left lying unregarded upon the bed.

A page is waiting outside his suite to escort Vere to private dining room. When he arrives, there are three people in the room, Carina and two strangers, both of whom were at court when he arrived with Jerod. The two strangers are absorbed in a quiet conversation.

Carina is at the bar. "Ah, Prince Vere. I found my invitation when I returned to my office." She smiles. "Have you met Duchess Loreena and Ambassador Droit of Amber? What little protocol we observe in private will allow me to introduce you either before or after I get you a drink."

"Before will be acceptable to me, if it is your preference, Archivist," Vere replies.

Carina mixes him a drink, which is a different operation in Rebma than in most other places, refreshes her own, and leads him over to the duchess and the ambassador. "Your Grace, this is Vere, Prince Royal of the Isles of the Dannan, son of Prince Gerard of Amber."

"You Grace," Vere nods a greeting, then nods as well to the ambassador.

The duchess nods in reply. "Your highness, the pleasure is mine." The ambassador bows, and says "I am pleased to meet you, Your highness. I hope we can find some time to discuss the state of Amber during your stay."

"I would enjoy that, your excellency," Vere replies to the ambassador. He takes a small sip of his drink and quietly observes the duchess and the ambassador.

The Duchess says, "I saw your arrival at court with my brother, Prince Vere. Some men are intimidated by the Queen. I am glad to see that you are made of sterner stuff than that." She smiles.

Vere returns the smile, "Immunity through exposure, your grace. My mother is an intimidating monarch herself. One learns to bend, or one is broken."

She nods. "Although a middle ground is often the best stance. One must know how to bend and how to make others bend when appropriate." Her smile never wavers.

Ambassador Droit looks as if he unexpectedly swallowed an ice cube from his drink, but recovers quickly.

Vere makes a soft sound of amusement, not quite a chuckle. Then he glances over to the doorway as Jerod and Rilsa enter the room.

Loreena will no doubt get her chance to reply a moment or two before Jerod and Rilsa enter the room. He looks around the room for a moment, noting the individuals there, especially that Carina is in attendance. He smiles as his gaze settles on his other sister and pauses to make a quiet comment to his mother before making his way over.

She nods to Jerod and leads him towards the bar. Rilsa speaks loudly. "Mother said we were 'en famille' tonight, so no titles, please. Loreena, come greet your brother."

Jerod nods a greeting to Vere and Carina as he enters, following Rilsa to the bar before noting the bottles on the shelves and deciding which one of the drinks he wants to try first. But he puts the decision on hold as his sister approaches, maintaining a respectful pose waiting until she is close enough to give a hug. Only then does he let go of the court mode for a short while and picks her up as he hugs her...something that he would only do with his "little" sister, though she will always be years older than him.

"I have been too long away Loreena and am too tired of Court right now for titles." Jerod says, agreeing with his mother as he sets his sister down. "Just tell me how you have been. I regret I did not have much time to speak to Valeria when I saw her last in Amber."

"I hear you've travelled extensively, little brother. Kaia tells me that Paris will be the next plum appointment that the courtiers will fight for."

When Loreena moves away Vere looks inquisitively at Carina, willing to let her make the decision on whether they should follow or not.

Carina and Droit hang back, not intruding on the family reunion.

Vere feels a current at his back and half turns to see Moire, her hair floating behind her, joining them. It is unclear how she has entered.

Vere bows a respectful but silent greeting to the queen, and then fades back a little from the main group so that he can watch everyone.

"That's all I need, Loreena, another appointment to be measured and over-analyzed and interpreted. I've a mind to not establish formal relations with Amber until Corwin himself comes down here. Jerod, how should we interpret it that Corwin, King of Paris, would send, as his herald and representative, his lawyer?"

Having put his sister down, he nods politely to his grandmother. "With caution, grandmother." Jerod says. "Opportunity is prevalent but our courtiers might find Paris a bit rough for their tastes. The value of titles and position might not hold as much sway as they would hope. Whoever you send should be one who won't mind having their sensibilities offended."

He looks over at his mother for a moment. "Would you like something?" he asks, motioning to the bar, before he moves over to it, continuing his talk.

"Something strong, please," she replies.

[Jerod]
"Mr. Roth is a long time friend of Uncle Corwin, from his days when my father had Corwin under surveillance I gather. Uncle Corwin's trusted advisors are currently those he calls friends with whom he has had long relationships prior to his return to fight for the throne. They have all come from far away places to be at his side. They will have the faith of the converted in defending their new home, and in protecting the King's interests. It is doubtful that the King will attend upon Rebma anytime in the immediate future."

Assuming his mother provides an answer, he will mix something for her, as well as for himself.

"You make it sound like a challenge! Well, I'll only take it up if it's the right challenge. And you, Prince Vere, what's your impression of Paris and her court?" The queen raises a perfectly formed eyebrow as she turns to the young Prince.

Jerod does not reply, instead handing his mother the Starfall that he had mixed for her, looking at his sister's drink to see if it needs to be refreshed while waiting to hear Vere's reply. He does not seem too concerned about the Queen's comment, perhaps because his own attitude about challenges is that challenges are opportunities, and they are made as one sees fit.

"A vibrant city, Your Majesty," Vere replies. "A cultured city, of graceful buildings and an enthusiastic populace. It has its mysteries, as do all places. As for its court..." he pauses, considering before answering, "They are not overly bound by ritual and formality, so far as I have seen. Members of the immediate court treat the king with more familiarity and less deference than I had expected. And yet this did not strike me as being a symptom of any lack of respect. Merely a different way of conducting royal affairs than the one I was raised to."

"Mysteries?" asks Loreena. "I hope you will tell us more of those, Prince Vere. I like mysteries."

"Do you?" says Ambassador Droit. "I find that truly great deeds are done best in openness."

Rilsa's lips move slightly, but she does not reply to this.

Moire drinks her own drink. "Is that what they teach in Amber? Jerod, do you agree?"

"I suspect it would depend on the deed in question, grandmother." Jerod replies, having decided on his own drink. "The benefit of a deed may not be apparent to the masses but that does not negate its impact. I think it is better to decide a great deed based on the nature of the opportunity that presents it to you, as well as the risk involved in trying to fulfill said deed. Nothing good comes cheap, and the price is rarely monetary in nature. It's what separates the doers from the courtiers." and he smiles a little.

"Some find openness does not come easily to them," Vere adds, "Not due to any desire for subterfuge on their part, but merely that they have no desire for public acknowledgement, and prefer their deeds to be done for the sake of the doing, not the sake of adulation." He smiles. "My betrothed is of this nature, and yet I defy any who know her to state that she has any hint of duplicity about her."

"Well, I could, but her dad would beat the hell out of me." Jerod says with a smile. His impression is one that says he does not imply any hint of duplicity on Robin's part.

"Jerod, don't talk like that, it's ungentlemanly," admonishes his mother. His sister grins, out of sight of her elders.

"My apologies mother. Too much time above the waves maybe?" Jerod says with a polite smile...the kind he would give to her when he was much younger and knew he had done something he shouldn't have but was having fun doing it.

"A fiancee?" says Droit. "Well that will take the wind out of the sails of some of the more aggressive women of the court." He sips his drink. "And encourage others."

Moire looks a touch annoyed, but allows Vere to reply.

Jerod takes a sip of his drink, something dark with a thickness that would seem to be oily in nature. Whatever it is, he seems to like it and he waits for Vere's reply. He does not seem to find Droit's comment of interest in replying, perhaps because he figured the same the moment Vere had mentioned his betrothed.

"Mmmm," Vere says in reply to Droit's remark. He takes a small sip of his own drink, then clarifies, "I fear they will find me quite boringly faithful to my commitments. Although I shall endeavour to be polite in my refusals."

"Oooh, the sharks are going to like that." Jerod whispers into his drink.

"If he frustrates the right one, the entertainment will be worth it," his mother replies, quietly. "I think we can go in, now," she adds more loudly. In accordance with Rebman custom, the women go in first and wait while the men seat themselves. Assorted small talk ensues while servants bring plates of food and then depart.

Jerod smiles into his drink at his mother's response but says nothing.

"Prince Vere," Moire says, "you were publicly somewhat coy about your purpose here in Rebma. Can you be more plain in private?"

Jerod does not say anything, interested only in what Vere has to say.

Vere pauses for a second, all the advice he has received on dealing with the queen flashing through his mind, along with what he has personally seen in the short time he has had to observe her. In the end, it is the similarity to his own mother than decides his response. The Lady of the Isles appreciated subtlety, but when she asked a direct question she expected a direct answer.

"My mother's realm is in rebellion, your highness," he replies. "Her chancellor has broken her oaths and traitorously sided with our land's enemies. I am called upon to come to her aid, and I seek to raise a small force, perhaps a hundred warriors or so, to go forth into battle with me." He nods to Carina, "I do not know if your Archivist has had a chance to tell your majesty anything of what I told her of my mother's land, but it is far more similar to Rebma than to either Amber or Paris. And if I seek men who will want to settle in a new realm, after fighting for it, then I would prefer men who will feel at home. And who come from a realm that I would see be a friend to The Isles in the future. We have been too long isolated, and I would see her reach out, and what better friend could there be than Rebma?" He inclines his head to the queen. "Thus I come to ask your majesty's permission to raise such a force."

Moire picks up a small appetizer, some sort of shellfish, and eats it while Vere explains. She nods.

"It's not out of the question, but I would need to know more. There are many questions to ask, but let's start with the obvious ones. How big of a force do you desire to raise? What are your mother's forces chances with or without Rebman assistance? What guarantees of safety and payment would Rebmans have in your service? And, since discussions between Princes and Queens must include such questions, why is it in Rebma's interests to aid you, Prince Vere?"

She picks up another shellfish, and holds it, awaiting his answer.

"I thank your majesty for even considering the proposal," Vere replies seriously. "Allow me to respond to the questions in the order raised. I seek a band, not an army. A century perhaps, somewhere between eighty and a hundred men. I seek men who are eager to prove themselves, who perhaps chafe that they were not yet old enough to fight against the Black Tide, and that there is now no way for them to demonstrate their battlefield skill. A group small enough that I can get to know each of them individually, their strengths and weaknesses, but large enough to be an effective fighting force. I look for a personal band to march at my side, not an invading horde to sweep all foes before them. I think this sufficient, and this leads to your second question." He frowns, and lets his gaze focus somewhere past the queen. "I have been considering everything I was told regarding the current situation in the Isles, along with what I know of my people and the individuals involved in this. While this remains theorization, I think I have developed an adequate working hypothesis."

His eyes return to the queen, and he meets her gaze as he explains. "I believe the vast majority of the populace remains loyal. To rebel against the Lady of the Isles is unthinkable, by doing this Chancellor Vianis has betrayed sacred oaths and upset the natural order. More, she has summoned the aid of the Witch Queens of the East. Children are told stories of the evil of the Witch Queens, they frighten one another with whispered rumors of their blasphemous rites and unspeakable depravity. To bring our traditional enemies onto the sacred soul of the Isles..." he shakes his head, "Even the Chancellor's most firm allies must wonder in their hearts at this. And can the priestesses and sorceresses of the Isles be expected to abide such a thing? Even those whose ambition outstrips their devotion must wonder at how this would affect their standing in the new order should the Chancellor triumph. Her foreign allies will clearly expect spoils, and these must come from the positions that her native allies would expect. How much wiser to support the rightful queen, at least one has nothing to lose to outlanders in that case."

"So, if this is the case, why has not my mother swept her foes from the battlefield? The Chancellor is canny. She was my mother's spymaster, among many other duties, and she would have planned well before making her move. My suspicion is that Vianis has taken steps to ensure that she is well protected, and that any protracted battles would be bloody indeed. An open battle will be disastrous to the Isles, and The Lady must look to what occurs after her victory, not merely to achieving that victory. That she will eventually triumph I have no doubt, how long it will take and how costly it will be I do not know, and will not until I arrive there to aid her."

He settles back, and allows a smile to play across his face. "Guarantees of safety? I offer none. We go to battle in a civil war, the most unforgiving and fierce of all wars, against foes who wield great magics. Yet we have magics on our side as well, and we have the right of supporting the lawful queen. Such is not a small thing in a war. The only guarantee that I can offer is that those who swear themselves to my service shall have my loyalty, even as I expect theirs. I shall never betray them, and if I must spend their lives I shall do so understanding what a treasure it is that they are willing to die for me. Those who survive, and I shall do what I can to make that as many as is possible, will find that they have the gratitude of a prince and his family, and they will be heroes among a people who value such. 'The husband is the sword and the shield of the wife' is a saying of my land, and those who have gained glory in this war shall find that they are much sought as husbands by powerful women. Having a Rebman hero for one's man shall become a mark of status."

He leans forward then, and taps the table with one finger as he finishes, "And this leads to the final point. I wish the Isles to begin trade with the greater universe, to expand from its own small world to wider frontiers. And Rebma is the logical first step to this. Our lands are much alike, and I believe we have much to offer to each other. My mother's people are bold explorers and canny traders, they dominate the seas of their world and will eagerly welcome the chance to sail new seas and visit new lands. I can make no bargains, can swear no oaths, for I am but a son of my mother. But she and my sister shall listen to my advice, and that advice shall be that bonds of friendship be forged between our realms. And Rebma shall have the gratitude of the Isles for its aid, and her sons shall be wed to many influential women of the Isles. Their daughters shall be the nobles, priestesses and sorceresses of the next generation, and Rebma shall find a new ally in the homeland of the mother of two of the sons of Oberon."

"And one of his more troublesome daughters, if I recall my genealogy correctly." She turns to her left. "Droit, does Amber have a position on young princes recruiting mercenaries in Rebma?"

"I should have to send back to Amber for instructions, your Majesty, but the backing of two such illustrious princes leads me to believe that Amber will not object."

Moire nods. "Hmm. Jerod? Are you planning on attending this war?"

"No, grandmother." Jerod says, having diligently worked his way through his portion of the current meal serving while listening to the others. "I've had enough of war for a time so I think I shall decline on this occasion. Though should a need arise, Vere knows that he can call for help should it be necessary. I have other obligations that require my attendance here."

Vere nods at Jerod's words, but remains silent, waiting for further questions or comments from the queen.

"Loreena," the queen says, turning to that woman, "are there men such as Prince Vere requires?"

"Majesty," Loreena replies, "there are very likely that many who are also competent soldiers."

Rilsa smiles at her daughter's comments, and Moire responds with a look.

"Your pardon, Majesty, but I was thinking along similar lines. I am afraid Prince Vere might have trouble telling the sharks from the pufferfish."

"Prince Vere? How will you determine who you should allow to follow you to death or glory?"

Jerod remains silent during this time but his expression has altered a little as he listens to Vere's reply to his mother's question. His mother asks an insightful question.

"An excellent question, your highness," Vere answers. "Alas, it is a fact that many who would wish to leave their homeland have reasons for doing such that do not make them desirable immigrants. This was my thought." He pauses, arranging his thoughts for a moment before continuing. "I do not know your people, and cannot grow to know them in so short a time as I have. But the royal family does know them, and with the queen's permission can make suggestions of some few men with whom I can begin. Also, there are those among your warriors who might not wish to accompany me, but who can still be counted upon to give good recommendations. I though to ask Captain Castor, for instance, if he knew of any good men wishing for the chance to prove themselves in battle." Vere allows himself a very small smile at that. "Once I have a list of such I can interview them, questioning them on their experience and reason to wish to accompany me, acquainting them with the situation they would face, and testing their abilities in combat, and making my own decisions on their personalities and characters. As well I can ask each of them their opinions of the others, for such men would know of each other, and in that way I would gain a more well-developed perspective of each of them, and also would note any signs that some of them were colluding together for some reason to deceive, through the simularity of their responses. Once I have this core of chosen men, some eight or ten perhaps, I can ask them to recruit and suggest to me others, for whom they will be responsible. In such wise I will have already developed the leadership of my band, each group of ten with one man above them, whom I have come to know as well as may be in so short a time."

He nods his head to the ladies. "This was my thought," he repeats. "I would be honoured to hear your opinions upon it, or any suggestions you would make on how it might be improved."

Moire nods. "You have my permission to ask any of my court for advice, Prince Vere. You have the freedom of the city. I will, under certain conditions, allow you to recruit your men from Rebma. Carina, note these for the Prince, please. First, you may recruit no more than five score men, all aged 30 or above for your force. Second you may not recruit debtors or other criminals. Third, you may not arm or drill your men in Rebma. Fourth, you are responsible for their actions as a military commander while they are in Rebma. Fifth, Amber must agree to indemnify Rebma against damage caused by your troops." Moire looks at Droit, who nods once. "Sixth, your troops must be unmarried and have the permission of their mothers or sisters. Seventh, you must arrange for the return of any who wish it on completion of their obligation to you. Eighth, you must provide the husbandprice of any man who does not wish to return to Rebma. Ninth, they may not return to Rebma under arms, without Royal permission. Tenth, Prince Jerod is to act as your liason while you are in Rebma. Do you agree?"

"Agreed, your majesty, with two small stipulations. First, while I agree not to arm the men within Rebma, the possibility exists that a large band might attract attention, and I would like us to be prepared to defend ourselves. Therefore I ask your permission to acquire arms here, which will be distributed to the men once we have left your realm. As to the husbandprice, this will be decided according to Rebman custom considering the position and desirability of the men involved before they leave with me, not after they have fought. This protects both their families and myself. Myself in that I need not be concerned with paying the price of heroes, and their families in that they need not be concerned that the man will have been so damaged in the war that his value is less than it would otherwise have been. All husbandprices will be negotiated and agreed upon before the man is accepted into my service." Vere tilts his head and considers the queen for a moment, then adds, "You did not mention men who do not return, not because they wish to remain but because they fall in my service. I shall guarantee their husbanpdrices to their families, as well."

"I shall assign a guard for your protection, and they can also marshall your weapons until you leave our realm."

Moire turns back to the table. "If there is no more pressing business, then let us speak no more of matters of state at the table."

"Indeed, you majesty," Vere replies. "I have no more official business that needs to be brought before your majesty at this time."

[Based on offlist discussion dinner becomes a quiet, food-based affair, breaking up after everyone has eaten.]

"I shall take in the evening currents on the balcony,' says the Queen. "Prince Vere, will you join me?"

Jerod does not comment, though he does catch Carina's gaze for a moment.

Carina nods slightly and smiles.

Vere bows to the rest of the company before following the queen, delaying for just long enough that he has to pass by Jerod on his way to her side. "We should talk as soon as possible," he murmurs to Jerod quietly as he passes.

He joins the queen and silently walks beside her.

It is good that Vere is as observant as he is. Otherwise he wouldn't detect the barest of nods from Jerod.

As Vere and Moire depart, Rilsa comes to join her son. "Will you walk me back to my chambers, Jerod? I won't keep you long, I promise." She carefully isn't looking at Carina as she speaks, although the archivist certainly can hear her words.

"Of course mother." Jerod replies, a look to see Vere as he departs, and then a sweeping look over the room to see what Loreena and Droit are up to, before Jerod offers his arm to his mother for their walk back.

Droit and Loreena are talking quietly. Because he is on his way out, Jerod cannot make out the content of their conversation, but it doesn't seem serious from the facial expressions.

Rilsa lets Jerod escort her back to her chambers. Once she is within, she leads him into her bedroom and opens a chest. Some digging around in the bottom produces a wrapped package that she hands to Jerod.

"These were your father's. He wanted you to have them if anything happened to him."

Jerod accepts the package with a curious look, wondering what it might be. He unwraps it carefully, stopping as he sees the old leather pouch, still oiled, before looking up at his mother. His expression is almost strickened and for a moment he falters. Part of him does not want to admit what might be inside.

Then he opens the pouch and slowly removes the Trump deck. After a moment, he remembers to breath. The stylized Unicorn stares up at him from the back of the card and he turns it over to see his father's face, recognizing the Trump immediately.

"When did you get this?" Jerod whispers.

"Your father sent them to me for you not long before he died. He had another deck from somewhere that he was using in Amber. I think he had a, a premonition that the battle against the Black Road might not go well." Rilsa suppresses a small shudder and looks away for a moment.

He watches his mother for a moment before looking down at the card, feeling the coldness of it beneath his fingers. It is a long moment before he turns it back over.

"Damn you." Jerod whispers, remembering the tent, the battle strategy, the sword. Eric never said anything. He wouldn't have.

Taking a deep breath, Jerod riffles the deck, noting three cards in particular that will come in handy before he puts it back in the pouch. Then he moves over to his mother.

"Thank you mother. I'm sorry you had to bring this up now. I don't suppose it's the best thing to have to remember when coming home."

Rilsa closes the small distance between herself and her son and puts her arms around him. Before she pulls Jerod close, he can see her expression is tight, and the water near her face is a touch saltier than normal. "All that matters is that you're here now. The rest is lost in the tide."

Jerod returns the embrace without speaking, not trusting his reply nor wishing to disturb his mother further. But his gaze tapers into the distance as he absently reviews what has happened, as he considers the tide and all those lost, wondering how much shall be unearthed when the tide turns - and it always does. He feels more than senses the forces at work around all of them, knowing in his heart that the storm is only just beginning...

[Moire] walks in silence for some distance along the balcony and the currents are refreshing. At a particularly good vantage point, Moire stops. She looks out over the city spread out below. "Some in Rebma expect that they will have a new queen soon, to reflect the new king in Amber. They don't understand about Amber. Do you, Prince Vere?"

Vere shakes his head slightly. "I make no such claim to wisdom, Majesty," he replies.

"You should take your forces from Amber, if you can. Every man, woman, and child you can get out of Amber will be one fewer that must be dealt with when the city falls. Amber stopped being what you think of as Amber shortly after your arrival.

"If you had wanted more troops, I would have had to refuse you. I may need mine to maintain order. And yours may find themselves needed back in Amber for the same purpose."

She looks out over the very familiar shapes of the seascape of Rebma, so closely mirroring those of Amber, no more different than the night from the day. "What will you, Prince Vere, if you have to choose between being a factor in the battles in your mother's home or a factor in the battles in your father's?"

"An impossible question to answer simply, your majesty. As with all conflicts of duty, it will be a decision based upon the situation. I have oaths on both sides, and must needs weigh them in the balance against the needs of my mother and my king. In any such conflict it is also my duty to explain my position to each side, so that they may understand whatever decision I come to." He shrugs very slightly. "I can hope that such a decision must never be made. If a conflict occurs it is my duty to try to find a way to fulfill both obligations. If I cannot, then things shall be as they shall be." He allows a small smile to touch his lips. "In greatest sooth, your majesty, my earnest desire is to find a small space of time when I can not be a factor in the concerns of either realm."

"You are not the first to wish for such, nor shall you be the last. I wish you well in obtaining your goals." Moire spreads her lovely long fingers over the railing, and the stones of her rings glitter in the phosphorescence.

After the space of a half-dozen watery breaths, she turns to Vere. "How have my grandsons fared in your father's city these last many years, Prince Vere?"

"They are highly respected, your majesty," Vere replies. "They held positions of great influence during the period of my father's regency." He pauses, then bows slightly and continues, "With your majesty's permission, this leads to a different topic. Before I left Paris Princess Celina requested that I convey a personal message to your majesty."

She waits a moment and replies, "Has he invested her with a title already? How interesting. What is her message for me?"

Vere tilts his head to one side. "There was no official ceremony, as far as I know, your majesty, but it was clear that the king acknowledged her. And as his son is granted the title of prince I assume so shall his daughter be known. Her message was a simple one, she merely asked that I tell you that she was well received in Paris." He smiles slightly and adds diffidently, "She also instructed me to say that she looked upon my personal mission with favor, which I thought a charming kindness on her part."

"Indeed," she says. "I would counsel you to be cautious with that kindness, Prince Vere. My ward is young and has friends whose political ties she has been shielded from, but the past, as they say, is with us always. There are those who would expect certain things from a Prince forming a war-band who has the favor of my ward. It would be a kindness in return on your part if you were to refrain from trading upon her comments." For all that Moire is a young, beautiful woman, her voice at this moment sounds extremely weary.

"I am a mere messenger, your majesty," Vere replies calmly, "Conveying her words to you as she gave them me. They are for no one else's ears, and shall never be spoken of again."

"Thank you, Prince Vere. My courts are overteeming with insecure courtiers who will act foolishly on the slightest encouragement. And they are complemented by those who know it and will manipulate them through layers and layers of misdirection and hidden motives." She sighs. "I envy Random his new kingdom and court, his blank slate, his Xanadu. He has fresh centuries ahead of him." The Queen of Rebma smiles.

"Xanadu, your majesty?" Vere inquires.

"A literary reference, and one that appeals to Random. He should have the source in his library. He told the story to me when he was staying here after his marriage." Moire leans on the low railing, watching a large flat fish swim by overhead.

"I shall make it a point to locate and study it," Vere says. "Understanding my king's taste in literature may well assist me in understanding him." He pauses, then adds delicately, "He appears to be a complicated man."

"You may be the first if you succeed." She stretches her arms back over her head, her fingers laced together, "Thank you for delivering Celina's message."

Vere nods. "It was my pleasure, your majesty," he replies. He waits to see if the queen has further matters to discuss or is preparing to dismiss him.

The latter, he thinks. "I shall send Captain Castor to make sure you have your military needs addressed in the morning."

"Your majesty," Vere responds. He waits to see if she wishes him to escort her back into the dining room, or if this was a dismissal.

She lets him escort her back, and then bids him goodnight.

After he is dismissed from the queen's presence Vere will find a servant, and instruct that a message be given to the Duke when he arises the next morning. "Inform his Grace that I should be grateful if he could spare me some time for conversation as early as is convenient for him." Vere thanks the servant and returns to his room.

Jerod looks at the servant with an expression on the order of "You planned this deliberately", feeling Carina's movement into her apartment as he deals with the intrusion. He knows she is equally annoyed at the sudden timing of the servant's arrival but as always she covers her expressions much better than he does.

"Advise Lord Vere that I will be available a short time before Seiche." Jerod replies. "I will be attending upon my mother at Crest and do not wish to shorten the time. I will make time available then."

Then he adds, "Be sure to explain the chronological terminology to Lord Vere when you deliver this reply." and then he turns and heads inside.

After leaving the message for Jerod Vere returns to his room. He prepares for bed, then asks quietly, "Are you here, lady?" He isn't trying to summon Cornelia, just to see if she's currently there. If not, he'll count it a good day's work and get some sleep.