Arriving In Xanadu

Gerard opens the connection. He's still on the boat. "Solange?" he asks.

"Yes, it's Solange," she answers him. "Pull me through?"

Gerard does so and she finds herself back on the ship. Kyril is with him, and he's got a backpack that Solange recognizes as containing some medical gear sitting on the ground next to Gerard's wheelchair. The crew is running around rearranging things. She catches sight of Scamp and Constant among the bustling sailors.

"They're arranging things so I don't have to go belowdecks," Gerard explains gruffly.

"Practical," she states, nodding. She smiles hello at Kyril before turning her attention back to Gerard. "I see Scamp and Constant are here--apparently the time differential is a little greater than I expected.

"Father, I wanted to let you know that Vere is planning to raise Ysabeau. He's going to trump back when he does so I can come through and witness it."

"Raise Ysabeau!?!" Gerard pushes himself halfway out of his chair with his massive forearms. "Ye canna raise the dead! What does he think he's doing?"

"Getting answers he can't get any other way," Solange replies, alarmed at his reaction. She lowers her voice. "Vere is very sensible. He believes there's sufficient cause to attempt this and that he has a reasonable chance at success. I trust his judgment in these matters--don't you?"

"It's less Vere's judgement than trifling with powers we dinna understand." Gerard drops back into his chair, murmuring something testy about this sort of thing being how Brand started.

Kyril has been doing his best impression of a part of the ship, and as Gerard continues talking, he makes his way to the far end of the deck, apparently in search of Scamp and Constant. When he finds the two of them, he squats beside them and begins an intense discussion.

"Brand and Vere are nothing alike in temperament," Solange replies, hoping she sounds convincing. "It'll be fine."

She glances briefly at Kyril talking to the two boys, then turns her attention back to Gerard.

"All right, then. Laying shadowpaths--what's the best way to do this?" she asks as she runs a hand through her hair. "We have markers we can drop, for one..."

"We're not done talking about Vere." Gerard ignores her attempt to change the subject. "What exactly does he think he's going to accomplish with this plan of his? I gave him free rein, but that's na wha I had in mind."

"Getting answers he can't get any other way," Solange repeats. "Father, if you gave him free reign, then you should let it go. He's not a child. Let him make his own decisions."

"If it's answers from the auld war that he needs, there are those among the living he can ask. Me or Jules, for two. We were there. There's a difference between speaking with the dead who come to you and raising ones who were unquiet enough when they lived, never mind when they died. There's no good that can come of what he means to do, and much ill."

Gerard looks at Solange. "Do you think it's a good idea? To raise her?"

Solange bites her lip. "My reasons for wanting to raise her are selfish, as you can probably guess. I want to see Ysabeau, talk to her, perhaps ask her about my biological father... For those reasons alone I don't think I'd do it, but Vere has more important concerns than mine--I'm just taking advantage of the timing."

She hadn't exactly answered the question.

"Father, Brennan found a trump of Ysabeau that Brand created," she continues in a low voice. "He also knows about Ysabeau. I thought you'd want to know."

Gerard's eyes narrow and his voice drops. "What does he know, then? Beyond the fact that she exists?"

"Uncle Caine told him who she was and where she fell in the family tree. He guessed my relationship to her and I confirmed it. He also guessed Robin's, based on family resemblances."

This news does not appear to mollify Gerard. "What did he say he meant to do with this knowledge? I mislike this."

"He didn't say anything in that regard." Solange shrugs. "It was bound to come out sooner or later. And what does it matter anymore if others know? The knowledge won't mean much to our cousins who never knew Ysabeau, and we've had time to establish ourselves in our elders' eyes by our own merits--for good or for ill--without being judged through the filter of our mother."

"It's not just yer cousins I worry about, Solange." Gerard's voice is low and urgent. "Most of my brothers and sisters knew Ysabeau, and they all have their thoughts on her. And if ye think it means nothing, look at Brennan. He's a worst-case scenario, but he'll never live the stain of his father's blood down entirely with a large portion of the family."

"Screw them, then," Solange replies flippantly. She reaches out and takes Gerard's hand in her own. "The most important thing to me is that I have you, and Vere, and Folly, and now Robin. We're family. I don't care what your brothers and sisters think if they're determined to be shortsighted."

"It's not that simple," Gerard mutters, but he doesn't seem to be inclined to press the point further.

Kyril continues to do anything but get involved in the conversation, or overhear any part of it.

Solange lets Gerard's hand drop and casts her eyes elsewhere. "All right, then. Laying shadowpaths--what's the best way to do this?"

Gerard gives a halting explanation of how to forge a shadowpath that doesn't make a lot of sense to Solange. It takes him a half-hour or so to tell her what to do, and Solange is convinced he's contradicting himself in a couple of places. But then it's time for them to start the shifting and Gerard _shows_ her what he means to do, and then his halting descriptions come suddenly clear.

It's like he's been trying to explain color to a blind man, except Solange isn't blind, exactly. She'd just never seen anything not in shades of grey before. Gerard is much better at it than Jerod.

Realization and understanding dawn on Solange, the resulting smile brightening her young face. "May I try?" she asks Gerard eagerly.

"Yes, ye should. There's no way to do this but to do it," Gerard says.

Kyril has come back to watch what they're doing.

Solange stands beside the captain and tells him to turn to port when they come level with the outcropping of rock.

When Captain Windward reveals surprise at this--for there is no outcropping visible--Solange nudges the universe and convinces it that there is indeed an outcropping of rock here, shaped tall and straight like a spire, ahead and off to starboard. She points toward it as a sailor in the crow's nest announces the outcropping's presence.

Eyes off portside, Solange scans the horizon as the Brazoria comes apace of the rock. It's still Amber's sky, a familiar deep blue, and as she gazes upon it she casts her memory back to recapture the fresh hue of Xanadu's sky to her mind's eye, lighter and brighter in comparison.

The captain shouts the order for port and turns the wheel. The mainsail swings, the deck tilts, and Solange takes a deep breath. She braces herself as if preparing for an upcoming struggle, chin lowered, and with cheerful stubborness informs the universe that not only is the outcropping of rock here, but also that the sky is actually the color of Xanadu's, and that both are fixed here, always, from this time forth.

Solange sense the universe twist under her will and feels that the path she's making here will last. "Good girl!" Gerard says encouragingly.

She throws up her arms and laughs with delight. "I did it!"

Kyril looks at the rock and then at her and Gerard. "OK, I saw it, but I don't get it. Can you explain it to me more clearly than he explained it to you?"

Grinning, Solange turns her attention to Kyril. "It's like...hmmm...well, I've explained shifting to you before--I get it in my head how something should be and fix my will upon it and it comes to pass. This is similar, though there's an added dimension. So instead of just affecting length, breadth, and depth, now I'm also affecting time. The universe is this way, and not just for the instant I'm passing through it, but continually from that point forth."

"Applied Solipsism. Or maybe Externalized Solipsism. If you were back in Lauderdale, they'd name a syndrome after you." Kyril shrugs. "But they'd be wrong, of course, because you can and did do what you said. There aren't, by any chance, any instruments or units of measure for this stuff, are there? They would comfort the internal scientist who keeps wanting me to answer 'how'."

Solange smiles at Kyril. "No that I'm aware of, though perhaps we can come up with something. I'd like to talk about that further.

"Applied maybe...but External Solipsism? Isn't that rather a contradiction in terms?" She laughs and holds up a hand to deflect his response, not wanting to get into a philosophical discussion at the moment. "We can talk about that later, too," she says, and the direct look and flick of her eyebrows left no doubt in Kyril's mind as to what activity she was planning on them enjoying together while they had their discussion.

She pauses thoughtfully.

"I wonder if we have the ability to affect other dimensions too, beyond time. If we could somehow perceive them, I bet we could...

"Father, though we're shifting and affecting time, it's still in a forward direction. Have you, say, heard of anyone shifting backwards in time?"

Solange keeps her tone of voice carefully casual.

"What d'ye mean by backwards?" Gerard asks, giving Solange a confused look. "I mean, there's effects with slow-time and fast-time shadows, but time only goes forward. Not backwards."

Solange nods and casts her eyes elsewhere. They settle on Captain Windward. "We need to have someone recording the details of this journey so the path can be followed. Captain, can you spare a member of your crew?"

"Aye," says the Captain, and sends over a midshipman to take notes on the new route for the rutter.

Though elated by her success to shift to Xanadu's sky, Solange finds that she has problems attaining the sea and attributes it to not having gotten a good feel or look at the water surrounding Xanadu while she was there. After awhile gives that part over to Gerard, who has spent more time in Xanadu.

After a shift they anchor themselves in a safe, quiet harbor where their presence doesn't seem to raise any attention among the other ships. It's nighttime, the harbor lit with lanterns of red and green and white, and they can get a few hours of rest before sailing out with the tide before dawn.

The sky is awash with thousands of stars, a crescent moon high overhead, as Solange leaves the berth where she's seen her father settled and walks past the watch to the infirmary where she finds Kyril puttering around in the lantern light.

"I thought you' be asleep by now," she says, her head and shoulders poking around the doorway.

"And miss the best part of the day?"

She smiles.

"I've been thinking about your father's medicines. The effects seem more volatile when he's travelling."

"That makes sense," Solange replies quietly as she slips around the doorway to sit on the edge of a cot. "The medicine will have different effects depending on the shadow we're in, and we've been shifting through a lot of shadow."

She pauses. "What have you been thinking about in regard to his medicines?" she asks curiously. "I noticed you talking to his two boys. Do you think Father should've stayed in Xanadu?"

He looks at her. "I saw a lot of active young men in the war. Lots of them came back legless or armless from fighting, and we saved them. There were two kinds. One kind kid, it was an annoyance. They made do. One boy made himself mechanical legs that ran better than a sprinter. The other kind of kid, they died inside. And waited for their body to do the same.

"In other words, no."

"This was more-or-less my thinking on the matter, too--that he needs to be active, he needs to feel useful." She runs her hands over her face, rubbing her eyes, then passes them through her hair. She looks tired, something Kyril doesn't often see.

"We'll do more shifting tomorrow," she continues. "If you can't compensate for the volatility, then I need you to tell me and I'll send him back."

Kyril nods. "Sounds sensible, Doctor. So does this universe changing stuff make you tired?"

Solange shrugs. "Laying a permanent path is more consuming than just shifting--it requires more attention and more force of will. And it also drains me to be at odds with Father. I'm sorry about the argument we had earlier on deck."

Kyril smiles at her. "No, I'm glad you can stand up to him and it's not a big fat deal. I'm waiting for him to decide I'm worth arguing with. Anyway, I tried to be busy elsewhere, so as not to make anyone need to up the stubborn dial. What's he being wrong about?"

Solange smiles weakly back and reaches over to shut the door. She returns to her seat on the cot and leans back against the wall. "A number of things, in my opinion, but that's exactly it: my opinion...and his."

She sighs and runs her hands through her hair again. "First of all I need to explain something. Gerard is not really my father. He's my full uncle and his sister Ysabeau was my mother. I found out about this after I left Lauderville and returned home. She died while delivering me and entreated her brother to provide for me. Apparently she had some foreknowledge of her own death, and that's something else I need to talk to you about, but in a minute.

"My foster-brother Vere--Gerard's son--has a peculiar talent for talking to the dead. He wants to raise Ysabeau to question her about a matter relating to his homeland, where she spent her latter years after being exiled from Amber. Father thinks it's overly dangerous and doesn't want Vere to do it. I want to be present when Vere does do it, for obvious selfish reasons, and Father isn't thrilled about that, either."

"Well, Ghost stories are all full of people who raise ghosts and regret it later, but the other kind of story is pretty dull, isn't it? Do you think it's more or less dangerous than Floaty Woman?" Kyril straightens the items on his makeshift desk, even though they don't need it.

"Floaty Woman didn't actually hurt me," Solange counters, perhaps a bit defensively. "I don't expect the shade of my dead mother to, either, so I'll say even less. I think Father is overreacting, don't you?"

Kyril shrugs. "It could just be irritability brought on by fluctuations in his medicines. Even people who tolerate medicines well, don't always respond well when the concentrations are uneven. But I have no idea if there is any danger or not in summoning ghosts. I must've skipped the day when we covered ectoplasmic trauma at Lauderdale."

Solange chuckles and looks down at her hands. "Hells, I really don't know if there's any danger or not in summoning ghosts either, but if there is any risk Vere thinks it's worth it." She shrugs and makes a conceding gesture. "I'll keep the fluctuations in mind."

She's quiet then for a space of time, listening to the lap of water against the Brazoria and the usual nighttime sounds heard aboard a ship. Very faintly the sound of fiddle music wafts across the bay, probably from either the Nightwind or the Swift anchored nearby.

"Kyril, there was one more thing I wanted to talk to you about," she says softly, still half-concentrating on the distant music. "I shouldn't have any children. I know it's not something we've talked about before, but we're already doing the, well, fun part. And it looks like you're planning to stick around. And I imagine the subject was going to come up sooner or later. I just wanted to tell you upfront and right now--I shouldn't have any children."

He looks at the desk for a while. "Well, it's not as if my mother will be coming up to the castle to object. Are you wanting to discuss this with Kyril or with the Doctor?"

"I'm not really wanting to discuss it at all," Solange replies, giving him a small smile to take the sting out of what might sound like a rebuke. "Ask me again sometime to explain, if you're interested. I'm too tired to deal with it tonight."

"I don't know if I'm interested or not. I decided a long time ago that I didn't want to bring kids into Pacifica, not with the war, but that world isn't the one I live in anymore. But I hadn't thought about it. Now it's... what it is. I just need time to digest it, is all. It's not like it's different than what I'd already decided."

Kyril yawns. "We should get some sleep. Tomorrow is another relaxing day at sea."

Solange watches him, her expression inscrutable. "What I meant by 'interested' was interest in the explanation, not the actual procreation." She pauses. "Though, I have to admit, it would be nice to always have someone around who was part you, for after you're gone.

"Goodnight, Kyril."

She stands and leaves, shutting the door again behind her.

Behind her the wood creaks, or perhaps something hit it. Unexplained wooden noises are common at sea.

Dawn arrives and soon afterwards the Brazoria, Swift, and Nightwind leave with the tide, along with a handful of other ships of various makes and sizes. Captain Windward leads the three out toward the horizon where the crescent moon is setting.

Solange, a mug of steaming coffee in one hand and a sweet roll in the other, stands in the bow of the Brazoria and waits for them to outrun the shadow ships that left with them. She wants to be sure they're alone before resuming the process of laying the shadowpath.

[Let's move you in to Xanadu. Time passes aboard ship...]

"D'ye know how I ken that Random's no sailor?," Gerard yells. "Because no sane man w' any seamanship would ha'e put the harbor under such a din!"

Above the castle on the cliffside, the red Unicorn banner flies. Below, the port seems to have grown since Solange left. The waterfall is very scenic, but quite loud.

"What?" Solange asks, cupping a hand around her ear. Then she smiles at Gerard.

"I like the waterfall. It's scenic," she continues, scanning the area as she talks. "The place is definitely bigger. There's actually a town now. Do you need any help getting your stuff together, or do Scamp and Constant have that all handled?"

Gerard nods. "They'll take care of it, if no' the sailors."

She looks over her shoulder for Kyril.

Kyril is just coming on deck. "Much easier than our last sail, that."

Solange gives him a quelling look. That last voyage is not something she wants to explain.

Gerard looks up and observes this, but doesn't ask any questions. Not yet, anyway.

"Excellent," she says to her foster father. "Sounds like we're all ready to depart then. After you?"

There is a narrow gangplank, barely wide enough for Gerard's chair, leading from the ship to the dock. "Ford!", Gerard calls out to a nearby sailor, "Put the chair on the gangplank." Gerard pulls himself up by the rails and swings his non-functioning legs out ahead of him, and waits for the sailor to lift the clumsy chair onto the gangplank. Gerard smiles and careens down the narrow, bobbing walkway to the pier, avoiding either a swim or a collision.

Kyril looks on slack-jawed. "I think we need to improve disability access on the dockside. Because otherwise, he'll just keep doing that. Did he install a hand-brake on his wheelchair?"

Solange looks on unfazed. "It had one at one time... Yeah, improved access." She frowns and follows Gerard down the plank.

She's quiet on the way up to the castle, using the excuse of looking around to familiarize herself with the upgraded dock and town to avoid talking.

The town is busy and buildings are springing up quickly. A number of them, apparently, are temporary housing for people attending the wedding.

Wedding? Solange suspects the upcoming nuptials are for Folly and Martin, based on her last conversation with Folly, and she looks closer for any indication of who is getting married to confirm her suspicions.

It's for the marriage of Prince Martin to Lady Folly.

"OK," says Kyril, pointing to a window, "I found the souvenir shop. They're selling dinner plates with alleged images of the royal family on them, marked 'New from Amber!'. Your people here are pretty remarkable."

Solange squints at the window. The artwork is iconic, not a very good likeness, and she smiles despite her mood. "Yeah, well, it's good to be related to the king. Usually." She turns and continues walking toward the castle, keeping half an eye on Gerard as they ascend.

Folly is clearly smaller than Martin, Random, and Vialle. All four are on some of the plates, and a few even managed to add Garrett, or at least someone male and young.

"Are you tired of flitting from shadow to shadow yet?" she asks Kyril. "Is it messing with your equilibrium and you'd like some time to settle, or are you up for more shadow flitting, this time not on sea?"

"I'll let you know when the novelty has worn off, Sol. It hasn't yet. I've been hearing stories of undersea kingdoms, floating kingdoms, kingdoms of people with wings, anything you want. Does the King ever give you all two week vacations?"

"Well, what I'm thinking of will take longer than two weeks, I think," she replies, amused at his reaction. "We could be gone half-a-year or so."

Kyril smiles. "Aha, you had an ulterior motive to your questions. I suspected as much. I'm all for the jet-setting life of the idle rich, although I'm worried about being away from your father for so long. Where are we going?"

"To follow up on a lead I had for nanotechnology. Sound interesting?"

"Traditionally, most medical technologies have life-spans. We try to make sure pacemakers last for 50 years, because our patients don't last that long. How do we find one that's good for double forever?"

Solange nods her understanding of the problem. "Well, my thought was not to find technology that was part of the cure, but instead facilitated a cure. You see the difference?"

"Yeeees, but it's not me I'm worried about. Doctors are known, generally, for being a bit pig-headed when they're right and you're asking for something unreasonable."

She looks at him sharply.

"And I'm a bit leery of going to a place where the research has been done to prove this operation is safe. We'll want to be careful."

"So why it is unreasonable?" Solange asks, her tone a little edgy.

Kyril raises his hand. "From their point of view, it is. They aren't used to people living forever. What you're suggesting is probably going to be non-optimal for their regular patients and they won't know about..." he waves his hand at Xanadu in general. "This is weird stuff, and will be weirder to people who are doing high-tech future stuff."

"You have DNA, and in it are the instructions on how to build you two perfectly healthy legs. All I'm looking for is technology that will look at father's DNA--assuming he has such--and help him heal or regrow his legs. The technology facilitates the cure, but is not a permanent part of the cure--the nanotech or whatever we find to help him is removed after his legs are healed 'cause their job is over--so no worries about how it will react in various shadows, or even how it will react if he takes the Pattern again. No questions about living forever come up, because it's not relevant." Solange's tone is definitely frustrated now.

Kyril smiles. "Maybe I better do the talking. You're going to be dealing with experts in a very specialized field who won't understand why their experience isn't relevant. We need some sort of reason to get them to think outside their boxes, like a religious objection or a disease or condition that causes him to reject the devices after a while..."

"It should be possible to just..." she starts forcefully, then stops and holds up her hands. "We'll work it out when the time comes."

Glancing back at Gerard, Solange sees he appears to be engaged in a conversation with thin air.

"Trump call," she surmises. "We should wait. I don't want him going up alone." Solange crosses her arms and, frowning, looks down at the ground.

"You're upset. I can tell. They teach us to read subtle body language clues at Doctor School, you know." He's looking at her arms, but doesn't quite reach out to pull them apart. "We'll work it out, because it's what we need to do."

Solange raises her head. "Subtle body language clues?" she comments, deadpan. One corner of her mouth turns up wryly before she looks down at the ground again.

"I'm sorry," she continues, now looking back at Gerard. "I'm just frustrated and worried. And being frustrated and worried for an extended period of time makes me angry. I don't mean to take it out on you, but because of your proximity you're bound to see some of the splashover."

"I never really believed the men's magazines that used to promise that dimension hopping fantasy princesses would be low-maintenance, anyway. It wouldn't be the first time they'd steered me wrong."

That elicits a laugh from Solange. "Is that what I am? Then I suppose I need to find a hot fantasy princess gown that just barely covers all the naughty bits and wear it around all the time, like when I'm on ship or hiking in the forest. I can also occasionally get myself into trouble and let you rescue me. Oh, and there needs to be sex. Lots of sex."

"This is a modern book. You rescue me. Other than that, it's not too far off. I'm hoping it's called 'The Kyriliad', because that way I'm assured of living through multiple volumes."

Solange looks at Kyril and winces. "I don't want to go through another war." She turns back toward her father.

Kyril looks back at Gerard as well. "Something would be wrong with you if you weren't frustrated and worried. It's a frustrating and worrisome situation. That you and he both want to take steps to change it is reassuring to me."

Some of Solange's dark mood returns. "Sometimes I wonder if he really wants to change."

Kyril pivots on his heel. "One," he says, ticking off a finger, "he didn't want to die under that slab of rock. Two," another finger gets ticked. "He wants to sail and lay shadow paths and be useful. He doesn't have to burn with desire to fix it right now to want to fix things. But you're right. He's not interested in Change, he's interested in going back. That's an easier sell, you know. He knows exactly what the product looked like."

Solange scowls. "He's settling. He's learning to live with things the way they are and he's settling."

A couple days after his meeting with Brennan and Caine, Garrett rises before dawn, as always. After breakfast and his morning workout with Abd-allah - who, fortunately, is also a morning person - he returns to his rooms. The waiting has been difficult, but he's kept himself busy so as not to pester Solange until a sufficient time has passed. Now, he's beginning to feel sufficiency. He checks himself over.

Sword - check.

Trumps - check.

Comfortable, but still prince-like clothing - check.

Solid, but comfortable boots - uh... He glances down at his feet, still clad in the same worn leather riding boots he wore in his stableboy days. They'll do, he decides. If he's going to take the walk of his life, it is going to be in _these_ boots.

With a great steadying breath, he opens the leather case at his belt and takes out his trumps. He shuffles Gerard's to the top and concentrates.

"Aye, who's there?" Gerard's voice responds.

"Good day, Uncle. It's Garrett," says the young prince. "I was wondering if Solange had arrived yet. I spoke with her before she left and wanted to see how her voyage went."

"Aye, we've just come ashore at Xanadu and she's off nattering with her lad," Gerard says. "Where are you?"

Garrett grins at the description of Solange. "In Amber," He starts to say more, then something Gerard said hits him. "'We've just come ashore?' I thought you were at the castle, sir."

Gerard shakes his head. "Nay, Solange trumped me to her ship. I helped her lay part of a path from Amber to Xanadu."

Garrett's grin widens. "That must've felt good to be back at sea again, Uncle," he says, then asks, "I need to come back to Xanadu. Would you mind doing the honors?"

"Of course not." He offers his hand to Garrett to bring him through.

Garrett takes it and steps forward into Xanadu.

In the background, Gerard holds up his hand and in a moment, Garrett steps onto the deck in a shimmer of rainbow light. The young prince carefully stows his shiny new trumps away in a leather case at his belt as he chats with Gerard. No one can miss the glance he steals in Solange's direction, however.

She forces a smile and waves, then grabs Kyril's sleeve and drags him back with her toward Gerard and Garrett.

Kyril goes with, not being a complete idiot.

Gerard is looking in their general direction and gestures them over even as Solange moves to join him and Garrett. Then he gets a distracted look, again, and says, "Ah, Vere. How are ye? We've come to Xanadu."

Garrett looks up in surprise at another call coming so close on his heels.

Solange straightens and squeezes Kyril's hand. "It's time," she says to him in a low voice. "Vere's called to bring me back through. Will you watch over Father while I'm gone? It shouldn't be very long."

Kyril nods. "If you're sure you don't need a level head with you, I'll stay. Just don't get arrested, sentenced to death, and have your sentence commuted to marrying someone else while we're apart."

She raises an eyebrow. "Are you implying that I don't have a level head?" she asks challengingly, avoiding the last sentence of his completely.

Garrett glances from Solange to Kyril and back, a shadow of apprehension crossing his features about this unexpected development.

"The docks need a lot of work," Gerard grumbles to Vere through the trump.

"I'll be back soon," Solange assures Garrett. "And I haven't forgotten about our talk."

Garrett hesitates, and Solange can see his doubt, but with stiff upper lip he nods once, looking vaguely like his brother for a fraction of a second. "Do what you need to," he says.

"She's right here." Gerard reaches out to Solange to draw her into the trump connection.

Garrett, meanwhile, steps back to stand beside Kyril. Quietly, so as not to break anyone's concentration, he asks, "Do you know where she's going?"

"I think she said 'The Isles'." Kyril is reasonably calm, despite the novelty of seeing his girlfriend disappear in a rainbow of coruscating light. "Something about talking to somebody who's dead."

Garrett looks sidelong at Kyril. "Lovely," he says wryly.

Once Solange steps out of the picture, Garrett approaches his uncle once again. "So Uncle, are you on your way back up or do you have a minute? I had a couple of questions I'd like to ask you about Amber."

"Certainly, lad. What can I help ye with?" Gerard is already rolling toward the mountain up to the castle. There's no road the way there was in Amber. If Garrett looks back at Kyril, the older man is eyeing the castle and eyeing the wheelchair with a dubious expression of his own.

Seeing Kyril's expression, Garrett grins back at him and shrugs. Gerard will do what Gerard will do. Garrett remembers that lesson from the days of the Regency. He falls into step beside his uncle, observing his progress in case he needs help, but not offering it immediately for fear of insulting him.

Kyril makes two fists at Garrett and thrusts them forward, all out of Gerard's view.

Garrett shakes his head almost imperceptibly and mouths "Later."

"I wondered what you could tell me about Asirians," Garrett begins. "There seems to be some bad blood between them and the seamen down at the port that I don't recall from my days there as a lad. Do you know what might have caused it?"

"Asirians aren't so common at the docks; ye might not have seen any in your youth. And of course, not so much after. They're supposed to be bad luck. I dinna always understand the superstitions o' my sailors, but I don't fight them. That kind of thing leads to floggings and hanging from the yardarm," Gerard says disapprovingly.

"What? The superstitions or the fighting them?" Garrett asks.

"Both," Gerard says. "Less so much with the floggings and hangings for the supersitions; if a passenger is bad luck, the sailors are generally content with tossin' 'em overboard. But fighting it, that leads to the sailors defying the officers, and that leads to all kinds of trouble," he tsks.

Kyril looks incredulous, and like he might be about to say something. Probably it will be something Gerard won't like.

Garrett does not seem at all phased by Gerard's comments. Having spent a lot of time around the docks in his younger days, he's certainly heard worse. "What else do you know about them? Have they been more prevalent in Amber in recent years?"

Kyril snaps his mouth shut.

"In the years before the Sundering? Not so much. I think there were a couple o'ships that were lost that had Asirian passengers on 'em, and the ones left behind blamed the Asirians. Not fair, but life's not." Gerard shakes his head.

"No," Garrett agrees. "What about after the Sundering? Did the Regency Council do anything with this?"

Gerard gives him a funny look. "Nay, just we had no ships coming in in the years after after the Sundering. People had other things to worry about then."

"True," Garrett concedes, his cheeks coloring slightly at the strange look. "I ask because whatever the problem is between the Asirians and the sailors seems to be getting worse. I asked Uncle Caine, but he was pretty tight-lipped about it and suggested I ask you. I just don't want it blowing into a gale that will hinder the moving process."

"I'll ask, but there's probably nothing to it. That's Caine's way of fobbing you off, lad," Gerard explains.

"Fobbing him off?" Kyril asks, finally, looking at Garrett.

"Telling me to run along like a good little prince," Garrett smirks over his shoulder. That might not have been the exact meaning, but it was cleaner than the one he imagined.

Kyril starts to ask something else, but clearly decides that's not a good idea in Gerard's presence and shuts up.

Garrett lets the subject drop and walks in silence for a few moments until the road starts winding up more steeply. "Were you planning on climbing all the way, Uncle or were you going to trump Father and get a lift?" he asks, keeping his voice matter-of-fact to avoid any hint of doubt about his uncle's abilities.

Gerard takes a look at the track ahead. "How's the way up?" he asks Garrett.

Kyril looks like he might say something if Garrett doesn't.

"Steep. Rough in spots. I could push, but I hadn't planned on going all the way up yet. Things to do in town," Garrett explains vaguely, nodding over his shoulder.

Gerard's face screws up a bit as if he knows there's something wrong with that and it escapes him what it might be.

"How long is the walk?" Kyril says. "I'm kind of wiped."

"A glass? Maybe two, depending on how hardy you are," Garrett replies. He regards the two of them, then reconsiders. "Perhaps we should all go together. I can come back down later. A ride would do me good. Uncle? Do you want to do the honors?"

"All right," Gerard says, sounding a bit petulant. He reaches into the pocket of his jacket to get his trump deck to hand to Garrett.

Kyril, having won his point, is carefully keeping out of the conversation. It's an art he seems to have mastered recently.

Garrett takes the trump deck and half-heartedly shuffles out the card of Random. He concentrates.

Random's head appears almost instantly and he smiles when he sees Garrett. "Hey kiddo! What's up?"

"Not much. Back in town. Uncle Gerard was about to race Solange's beau up the hill. Thought I'd save Kyril the embarrassment of a crushing defeat and ask for a ride," Garrett deadpans.

"Hang on," says Random. A moment passes, and a brief wind blows across Garrett, as if a door was closed. "Sure, pass him through. But make sure to be on him getting here first first."

Random reaches out for Garrett to pass him someone.

Garrett grins. Sometimes you just can't help it. "Have you done this before?" he asks Kyril as he holds out his hand to him.

"Done what?" asks Kyril.

"He has," says Gerard, frowning.

"Yes, I've done this before," appends Kyril, and holds out his hand.

Garrett passes Kyril through, then turns to Gerard. "Uncle?" he says, offering his hand.

Gerard reaches out and lets Garrett pass him through.

Garrett does so, then steps through the contact as well.

Random looks at the assembled.

"So, welcome back to the Kingdom that never sleeps. Anyone need a cigar? A joke? A joke cigar?" Random looks at them all. "I'd ask 'what brings you to Xanadu?', but it was me..."

"Second home," Garrett shrugs. "Kyril, what brings you to Xanadu? Besides the king."

Kyril shrugs. "Same as anyone, I suppose. A girl."

Random smirks and Gerard scowls.

"So, do we have a path?"

"Aye", says Gerard. "That we do."

"Great! Now we just have to see who's brave enough to sail it for the first time without a royal aboard." Gerard's scowl deepens slightly.

"Unless you want to dead-head back as a contingency for someone."

Gerard thinks about this, and then says "Aye, that should work. I'll go to it, then." He nods, turns his chair, and wheels for the door.

Random watches his leave and casually pulls a cigarette from behind his ear and takes a long drag.