After Brennan is through giving Lilly's prognosis to Garrett, he makes his way back to his own quarters.
He gives some instructions to a passing page to have certain items packed away and moved to the chapterhouse or to his office in the Castle, as he deems appropriate. The rest of it is left where it is, not precious enough to worry about, but sufficiently valuable to mark his space.
The cask he'd brought back from Weyland's Tower, though, that stays. Brennan opens it and deftly renews the preservative spells on it, before transferring the contents to an urn more suitable for the contents-- a rightly sized urn of old, strong wood, which Brennan has conjured into the room. He takes another moment to lightly burn the symbol he'd placed on Daeon's signet ring onto the surface with his finger, the symbol of Kern's branching antlers. Then he seals the urn shut, wraps it carefully into a shroud of black velvet and places the whole bundle into a pack.
Brennan scowls. He'd wanted to talk to Robin before leaving Amber, and spends a long several moments weighing the pros and cons of trying to figure out where she's gone, but in the end decides against it. If she'd heeded his request, she'd have easily found him in the infirmary or here. She's probably gone back to Arden or ahead to Xanadu, and in either case Brennan is not putting off his task long enough to try and find someone who doesn't want to be found. He aims to be in Xanadu by day's end.
And, as such, Brennan departs. His path takes him past Robin's quarters, just on the last half-chance that she's there waiting for him, and then off out of the castle proper, toward the stables to pick up a pack horse, and elsewhere on Kolvir.
Coming out of the door is an older Ranger and a page, the latter of whom is carrying a bow case, and the former a large pack not unlike those the Rangers carried in Chaos. They're heading off, the page clearly leading the Ranger off somewhere with the goods.
That these inner walls even have windows indicates how secure Amber feels in her outer walls. Robin in not immediately at ground level, but can see how to reach the ground and does so. She stands near a small, orderly garden.
Once her feet touch the ground, Robin breathes deeply in and out. In and out. Deep Green, her Family is Loud. No wonder Caine has had enough of them. A wry chuckle goes through the girl as she ineffectually tugs her dress back into some kind of order. 'Course she was pretty Loud herself.
Looking around, Robin wrinkles her nose at the small, orderly garden. Bleah. Oh well, still better than inside the crumbling walls.
In the garden is a man in a white robe, sitting on a blanket. He has a large blade, curved, and he looks very somber, as if he is preparing to do some sort of ritual with it.
It takes her a moment to realize that the man is Venesch, Captain of the Guard.
Robin cocks her head at the tableau, something about it is not quite right. She blows a lock of hair off her forehead. Great. And her having trouble with words right now.
Flumphing across the garden, not being quiet at all, Robin squats down in front of Venesch.
"C-consecrating sword, right? For upcoming battle. Against Dragon. Th-then M-moonriders. Yes?" Even though she strongly suspects that the answer is no. "Amber needs good swords."
"My sword is no longer good," Venesch says simply. "I have dishonored it."
When Venesch shows no sign of using said sword on Robin, she leans back to sit on the grass, knees drawn up under her chin, her arms wrapped tightly around her legs.
For a while, she just blinks at Venesch. Honor. The girl understands that it's important to some people -- vitally, soul-wrapping important. But... she's never had much truck with it and can't speak to it with the respect that someone like Venesch deserves. Instead Robin goes in another direction, something she can speak about. Maybe.
"I-it's h-horrible when t-that hap-pens," she murmurs sadly, her eyes flitting around the garden before coming back to Venesh's. "Horrible.
"M-m-my s-sword... b-b-broke. Bright p-p-pieces spiraling off into d-darkness." The girl's face grows pale but she clings to her wonderful, lovely anchor and forces herself to keep speaking. "Jag-ged sharp s-stub. All that's left in h-hilt. Wh-when I think about it... I w-want t-to d-d-die."
Robin's eyes grow dark and her voice takes on that dark seductive malevolence that so unnerved Jovian at the Masquerade and disgusted Daeon in Arcadia. "Lovely, black emptiness. No more fighting to stay sane. No more hiding my weakness from my predatory Family. Or those whom I would hurt or burden with my... what-I-have-becomeness. For a moment I would be whole. And then I would no longer have to be.
"B-bu-but...." Robin's head ticks convulsively as she pulls back. "M-m-my oa-aths, m-m-my d-duty. A-a-a-mber. Ar-rden. They st-still n-need me. St-still b-bind me. Br-broken s-sword or not -- I, I, I can still fight. Still help.
"S-so, now you are choosing? Can be l-like Benedict or Gerard or me? Still fighting. D-doing what we c-can. Or like Daeon? Who gave up." Robin's contempt is clear as she hits that last name.
From his sitting position, Venesch offers a neck-bow.
"Lady Robin, my oath was severed by Prince Caine when he dismissed me for my failures. I allowed a valuable prisoner to escape. I have no master, no oath, to serve."
This seems particularly distressing to Venesch.
"My only duty now is to preserve the honor of my family, since I have destroyed my own."
Robin rests her chin on her knees and blinks at Venesch, as she struggles to put words to the thoughts fluttering around inside her.
"C-Caine... he m-mad at me too. S-same reason. Ssoooooo angry."
She leans forward to whisper to Venesch. "I, I, I... a-afraid. He d-do me like Aisling. Put me in n-niece-box. H-hang me out for enemies -- maybe D-dragon -- to claw apart. Might still." Her green eyes scan the garden quickly before coming back to meet Venesch's, but the girl won't let her fear drive her away from him.
"Venesch. M-my oath. My duty is to K-king. Random. Not Caine. Not to Amber's knife-in-back. Only King can sever it. And King? Not bad at Kinging. Not at all. C-C-Caine? H-he not good for honorable -- or t-tarnished or b-b-broken -- swords. W-w-will w-waste them.
"If y-you need master, go to K-king. If not him, J-jerod would be..." Robin pauses and tilts her head with a furrowed brow. Somehow the words 'thrilled' or 'overjoyed' seem... wrong for Eric's son. "H-his heart would swell to s-see you," is what she comes up with.
"Benedict serves away from squalling, squabbling an-angry siblings. H-he would v-value you too. And, and, and if you feel yourself too t-tarnished for s-service with honorable men, Ar-arden has m-many who... give their all with no past."
"Be-because A-amber n-needs us, Venesch. N-needs all of us. Knives-in-back and s-swords honorable, tarnished or b-broken. Men of reason, seekers of beauty, smiling diplomats and squishy-hearted feeders of poor. Even st-stupid grenades from heights." Robin wrinkles her nose in irritation.
"Please, Venesch." She reaches a hand out to him. "A-all you h-have seen. All you kn-know. All of you that yet remains. P-please don't steal that from us, just because C-caine's an asshole."
"The King has refused my service by the hand of his Regent," Venesch explains patiently. "And the men of Arden are not ronin, are they? They are sworn to Prince Julian, who is the ally of the Regent." Venesch shakes his head. "He will not accept my service now."
Robin shakes a little as Venesch answers. A brief frown darts across her face. She hates it when older men explain things patiently to her and this entire conversation has become far too evocative of the one she had weeks ago with her father. The one where she defended Daeon's right to choose death.
"Venesch. Not even me try to predict J-julian." She chides gently. "But, but..."
Robin stops to let things settle for a moment. What he said. She honestly didn't... understand most of it. It was words. Just stupid words!
So instead, Robin listens for the shape of it, the heart of it, the patterns. And there it is. Authority-lines. Weaving through everthing Venesch has said so far. She wrinkles her nose -- oookaaayyyy, next gambit.
Robin rolls up to her knees and scoots closer to Venesch being careful not to violate the border set by the blanket.
"Venesch? Veeerrreeee...." The word flows out of her like a summer breeze and joy lights her from the inside. Even though her miracle isn't here, he might just rescue her again.
"Vere is Prince of D-d-danu. From mother. Not King. He leads Brotherhood of Stag by own honor, valor and skill. Stags are honorable men of sword, sworn to each other and... other things." Robin's still not clear on the whole idea. Ah well. She pushes on. "Vere is, is... tttrrrruuueee." She leans forward, her eyes lit with intensity. "Not enough words in universe to say how... right he is.
"We, we betrothed!" Even when deep in this mess, Robin can't keep the wonder and glee out of her voice. "With both Fathers' knowledge and permission.
"Venesch. W-would you accept me as his 'hand'? Swear to him?"
Venesch has to think about this for a time.
"I have served three Kings of Amber. To enter the service of another, even the child of a Prince, would be unthinkable. My family has suffered much in our home, and were it to be known that I had been dismissed by the King and taken service with a vassal would be a blow to our surviving friends and those who, for honor and friendship, had championed my family.
"I have three paths, Lady Robin. I can redeem my family's honor here, or in the presence of the King, or I may war on his majesty. I am pleased to say that I have no reason to believe that service to Prince Vere leads along my path."
Robin cocks her head, bewildered lines crinkling her forehead. For a while, her head bobbles a little and her eyes wander as she struggles to track what Venesch said. His mouth moved, sounds came out. They were even word-shaped sounds. And they were obviously very, very important to Venesch, but.... The only sound she can really grasp onto is,
"F-f-family?" Robin's green eyes grow soft with concern and she nods. "I, I, I understand. My worry f-for family... s-sometimes drive me t-to extremes t-too."
And she strikes. The sympathetic, bewildered girl kneeling up against the edge of the blanket, leaning forward to connect with Venesch, does her level best to really connect with him. Hard. And as fast as she can.
Her intent is to knock Venesch unconscious (best case) or seriously stun him (acceptable) without breaking him. Too much. Because, while Venesch was very polite about it, Robin suspects that he just said she and Vere weren't good enough for him. That definitely gets some serious pepper added to her attack. However, Robin also pays Venesch the compliment of assuming he's very, very good -- so she'll be ready with follow-ups and defenses against counter-strikes as necessary.
[Card: The Peasant, reversed]
Venesch doesn't see it coming and goes down like a poleaxed steer.
"Gahhhh!" Robin hisses at him in frustration. Stupid men! Stupid words! Stupid men with words! When will she learn?! She should've gone with her strengths and just hit him right away. Instead of trying to reason with him. Men! Words! Pfui!
After her temper tantrum, Robin turns her green eyes round the garden, checking to see if anyone other than the firelizards has witnessed her latest diplomatic failure.
Assuming that the hew and cry doesn't start immediately, Robin gathers up Venesch, his large curved blade and his little suicide blankie and carries them away. Sticking to the darker, more concealed portions of the garden, Robin exercises all her Ranger skills to ghost along the walls of the Castle.
She also starts to tinker -- gently! She thinks it's very probable that Venesch will remain unconscious but not in any serious danger for a quite a while. She thinks it's very probable that any nearby or overseeing guards will sneeze, cough or need to relieve themselves in another direction as she drifts by. And she thinks it very probable that she will come across a large lush bush near a lit window or French door beyond which a page (and no one else!) works.
If she finds such, she will stash Venesch under the bush (again using her Ranger skills to make him and his gear as invisible as possible) and tap on the glass to attract the attention of the probability page.
A page comes to the window, looking puzzled. He's very young. He gapes at the little flying dragons swarming near Robin.
Robin puts on her friendliest smile and swallows against all the stutters and pauses. She needs to be understandable to a child now.
"Can you hear me?" She does her best to make sure her voice is clear beyond the glass and that she has the young boy's full attention.
"Will you please tell Couth that I'm out here? And need to speak to him?" Robin waits to make sure the boy has understood that much before issuing her next instructions.
"Will you ask him to stop by my r-rooms?" Dammit! Stop that! "And... bring the big frame pack? The one with the Alys rivermud on it? Oh, and the bluejay bowcase? With him, he should bring those with him. Understand?"
"Yes, my lady. Tell Couth you're here, and bring him and the pack and the blue jay bow case." The lad runs off to do the needful things, not unlike a Ranger runner given a task.
It'll be a few minutes before he's back. Unless Robin's Pattern manipulations have failed, Venesch should be out cold for a while. Robin and her twitchy firelizards are alone.
At last!! With a relieved sigh, Robin fluhmps herself down on the grass, heedless of gown, gardening and all else. She flops onto her back with an even more dramatic sigh and takes in the open sky above her. What little isn't crowded out by walls and tamed vegetation. Her nose crinkles but smoothes out as she lets all the stupid words drain out her.
As Peep's concerned muzzle appears above her, Robin breaks into a smile and a chuckle. Her brave, brave friends. She reaches out with loving arms and gathers her little fair to herself, crooning in delight. Oh, they are wonderful. And oh, how they protect her from the Bad Thing. Which is unfortunately inside of her, but still -- they do protect her.
And thus, Robin is lying on the lawn, cuddling her firelizards, when the probability page et. al. return.
Some time later, Couth and the page come back to Robin, bearing that which she asked for, and trailing something that she did not: Brennan. He is armed only customarily, and not armored. He's still dressed in black, and has a small pack or parcel. To Robin's trained eye, he looks very weary, but Couth-- or especially the page-- might not have noticed it. He is tired, but still a scion of Oberon.
Once he sees Robin, his bearing changes. He's no longer following Couth and the page to wherever they're going. Now he's walking toward Robin with purpose.
Robin's eyes widen a little as she notes the Approaching Brennan but she nods to herself and gets to her feet. Time for more men and words. Joy.
The girl launches her little friends up into the air, brushes her hands absently on her rucked and wrinkled skirt and waits to get yelled at with a resigned cock to her lips.
Brennan tracks the flight of the firelizards about as far as he can with his eyes, without actually tilting his head. He also makes a slightly exaggerated gesture, brushing at the cuff of one sleeve, dismissing Skiaza back to the deepening shadows, with a silent warning not to engage the bright flying things.
When he reaches Robin, Brennan plants his feet on the turf and looks at Robin, head tilted.
"Not what Caine had in mind, I think," he says, in a very flat approximation of his normal dry sense of humor, "but I admire your persistence." It's banal chit-chat until Couth and the page are out of earshot.
"Weellll," Robin clasps her hands behind her back and rocks innocently on her heels, "I am out of the Castle." She looks around at the walls. "Kind of. And I'm off to Xanadu as soon as I nail a few things down here.
"Couth?" She leans a little around Brennan with an apologetic glance. "Just drop those there. Listen, Regent's sending me to Xanadu pronto. If the Warden or Vista haven't expressed any druthers, I'd like you and the boys to go with me. You think you can be ready real soon-ish?"
Then she turns back to Brennan with concern in her eyes. "How's Lilly?"
"She's probably walking through a Trump to someone in Xanadu about now, under her own power. She'd better not take it into her head to walk very much farther than that, though," he says. "So, she'll recover. Quickly, considering what my sister did to her. Ambrose has already gone back."
Brennan waits for Couth and the page to depart or draw back to a proper and respectful distance, if they haven't already.
"What you said before about the Dragon being a place, and Arcadia rising up-- you're our resident expert on any of that. What did you mean?" he asks.
Robin swings her arms back around to cross them over her middle, one hand clasping each elbow. And she also checks to make sure there's no one else in range of her lowered voice.
"I mean, I think... I susp..." Her green eyes dart to Brennan and her lips quirk as she remembers Jovian describing him as 'as no-bullshit as they come.' Soooo, less dithering would probably be a good idea. Another good idea is that someone besides her know what's going on. Therefore, Robin does her best to pull it together and no-bullshit Brennan as best as she can.
"Instinct, observation, conjecture. Dad & Vista know more but they haven't told me a lot. But since I've been hearing rumors about beings like Maddoc and Borel, a lot of what I've experienced around the Dragons has made more sense.
"I've run into those Chasms a couple of times now. And I can't... adjust them with the Family Heritage. You heard what they're like inside, I saw it in your eyes. And something that one of Daeon's Aunts did -- makes me think that they're more than geographical features. I think they're kind of like... tentacles or arms. Or at the very least, influence. And they move around really, really conveniently for Family to fall into or come across. Kind of like Heritage, but... not quite. I think..." Oops! There's that dithering again. Move along, move along.
"Then there's the Deep Green that is seeping into Arden from the periphery. The vegetation, the reality... it's overlaying Arden. We've already lost a couple camps and several patrols. When I tried to... push it back, I came close knocking the Shadow I was standing in away. Didn't affect the Green at all.
"Shoring up the Order in a relatively untouched area works short term. Don't know about long. Dad has said some... ominous things regarding Arden's viability without Oberon's Legacy here in Amber. And Brita's vs. my relative... ability to hold Arden. And I can see why. Heather Vale has been... overwritten. Vista described the effect as the Dragon's Breath. Something he'd seen before.
"Aaannnddd then there are her creatures. They're... colonies, really. Individual little hostile cells that form together to look like a horse. Or a friend. Dad can tell the difference when he's looking for it. I can't. Mincing one of the Dragon's creatures slows it down. Nothing short of that does. Burning seems to slow the creatures' regenerative properties to something manageable. But... I don't think it stops it entirely. Oh, and the Dragon perceives anything her creatures perceive.
"She can also reach through them. What few citizens of Amber or Garnath I've come across in the Deep Green have been definitely influenced. Poor Breeze was almost totally ridden while he was there. And completely ridden for a short while here. And what she did to Paige's kids? Brrrr.... Even Dad scrubs when he gets Dragon on him, so I don't think that Heritage is protection against her influence.
"Things were... tense before. But since Daeon died? I saw the light in Dad's eyes. He's openly declared war. And now we've trotted two Pattern blades, three sorcerers, at least six wielders of Heritage and who knows what else into her influence and rattled it all around some. I'd be pissed if it was me.
"Sooooo I suspect that the Dragon is a place-being who is about to rise against Arden."
She finishes up with a 'there you have it' shrug to Brennan.
Brennan is silent and almost motionless while Robin speaks, giving her his undivided attention. He's silent and motionless for a little while after that, processing, checking his own suspicions and understandings against what she's said.
"How literally did you mean that, though. It is possible the thing is just so large, it seems like a place? I wouldn't have expected to be able to drill through a piece of something like that, as easily as I did."
She thinks about it. "I don't have a whole lot of experience with beings too different from ourselves," she says to the Chaosian war veteran, "so I'm not prepared to judge your drilling ability vs the Dragon's resistance. But I'm also not putting a lot of stock in the Dragon's absolute physicality right now.
"After talking to some of her daughters and tangling with Daeon a bit, I think those people more... invest themselves into physicality rather than be stuck in it. Or something like that. I could easily be being paranoid, but..." she shrugs.
"So yeah, I meant it pretty literally. I think we were literally inside the Dragon and that actual Land of Arcadia is made up of Dragon and that she's waking up and going to come after Arden. Soon."
"Perhaps its ability to invest itself in physicality, as you say," almost against his will, Brennan seems to like that phrase, "is related to how much it is bound and sleeping. We may both be right. All right, so let's assume Julian loses his fight, or doesn't win quickly enough. Dragon breaks free, takes wing, and whatever the details are, the effect is... what? That a shadow or a region of shadow picks up and leaves, with catastrophic effects I don't want to think about to the nearby shadows."
Robin nods grimly. "Like Amber. And Arden."
"What happens if Julian manages to do what even Corwin with Greyswandir couldn't: Alone, or nearly so, against all odds, Julian wins and slays the thing. What happens, Robin?"
She sighs. "More conjecture. But based on some of the things her daughters said I suspect that the entire 'shadow' of Arcadia 'dies'. With catastrophic effects to nearby shadows, like Amber and Arden.
"Before Daeon's death, Dad was looking to avoid killing the Dragon as much as possible. Afterward..." Robin presses her lips together and shakes her head grimly.
"In addition, I'm beginning to suspect that a part of Arden might be built upon the Dragon. Or maybe, a part of Arden's current Arden-ness is drawing from the Dragon. Either way -- no Dragon equals badness." She shrugs in a 'can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em' kind of way.
None of those thoughts seem new or surprising to Brennan, and from his bearing, they might even be too optimistic by his reckoning. "You should find out. I have my suspicions, but I don't think Julian will just up and tell me. He might tell you. It'd be nice to know what endgame and postgame strategy he sees, here.
"This... riding phenomenon," Brennan says. "That's what it did to Brooke and Leif? Do you know anything about affination, or 'eating'?" The inflection on the last word implies that Brennan's using it in some technical sense. "Is it like those? Or does it do those?"
Robin's brow furrows as she thinks very carefully. "I... don't know what the Dragon did to Brooke and Leif. You might try asking them. They need someone... experienced to talk with about this kind of stuff, anyway.
"I did see some of what she did to Breeze. When I first found him, he was deep in Arcadia and befuddled. Or dazed. He seemed less than himself. Couldn't speak. And when things started to get exciting, he forgot himself entirely. He didn't remember me and wasn't tracking his surroundings. Didn't behave much like a person at all actually. More like a force or an instinct. Ridden.
"I gather that when he got here to Amber, he fell unconscious. And only woke to... carry the Dragon's will to Paige's children. Solange said that she, Brita and Conner were the first non-involved Family members on the scene. The word she and Couth used for Breeze's condition was 'possessed'." Robin shrugs yet again. Words. Whatever.
"I'm not familiar with affination or, or, or e-eating." Dammit! Where did that come from? Robin clears her throat and shakes her head a little to clear it before starting back in. "So. I. can't compare. Or say whether she does or doesn't do those things.
"My concern is for Breeze. With all the excitement around Brooke, Leif and Daeon, it's easy to forget that the Dragon has also squished another member of our Family. And I don't know how vulnerabl he is to it happening again." She frowns sadly.
Brennan's eyes narrow, just a bit, when Robin starts stumbling over her words.
"Affination," he starts off slowly, feeling his own way, "like most Chaosi concepts, probably doesn't have a single definition, or even a definition that is ever exactly the same, twice. But it's a power-defining relationship. The affine, the one affinated, doesn't have it. The lord does. There are no equals in Chaos, only-- sometimes-- ambiguity. But it's still a relationship between two distinct... or mostly distinct... entities. It's something like a master and servant relation, or lord and serf, sorcerer and familiar. I think there are other shades of meaning to it, as well, beyond, 'I chose not to eat you.' There seems to be a sort of a... kinship meaning to it as well, in a formal, honorary sense. An affine is an honorary member of family, or house, or self.
"You may remember CloudEater. CloudEater was the Aisling's affine, then Marius' affine, before it and the Hob ate each other." Brennan's eyes slide upward, briefly, seeking and tracking one of the fire lizards. "You might want to learn about it."
"Hunh." Robin's bangs lift in a fluff of breath as she contemplates Brennan's words, working them into her own understanding of things.
"That doesn't sound like what happened to Breeze or Daeon. That seemed more like two wills fightin' to occupy the same physicality. And when Daeon... died, it hurt the Dragon badly. Dad, me and Daeon's other two sons were caught up in the Scream. Doesn't mean the Dragon can't affinate or eat." She wrinkles her nose at the new terms. "Just means I haven't seen her do it.
"But them?" Robin's eyes follow Brennan's gaze upward, and a fond smile lines her lips. "Our... dynamic is nothing like that. It's more like a sharing. Maybe a blending. And it's completely willing on both sides. The Dragonriders called it 'impression'. I don't think it's like those other... relationships."
Robin would much, much, MUCH rather think about her little lovelies than think about learning about eating. Inside, she cringes away from the very word. But she also reluctantly realizes that the very virulence of her reaction means... she probably should.
"B-brennan?" Shit. There it is again. Robin swallows and moves forward quickly before she chickens out entirely. "Sometime later, when you get a chance, can you tell me about M-m-" swallow, "Moonriders." Okay, Robin thinks, keep your eyes on the wonderful anchors, and Stay Here.
Brennan considers this for a calculating moment, not wanting to be sidetracked, then, "I can tell you what I know of them, which is not much. Why the interest?"
Her eyes firmly fixed on the firelizards, Robin fights against a throat that is slowly closing. "They... I used to ignore them. Someone else's hunt. Someone more experienced t-than me. B-b-but what Brita and... Garrett s-s-said. F-familiar. T-to m-me. M-m-maybe n-not as in-in-in-experi... as I th-thought."
Robin's lips part to say more, but no words come out. So she just closes her mouth and fights against the blackness leaking in from the sides of her vision. No Bad Thing, she thinks strongly. No Bad Thing. Here. In the Garden. With Brennan. And Peep. And Chirrup and Ooot. Who are Good Things. And Here.
Brennan continues to regard Robin with that intent gaze, head cocked slightly to the side, with some internal discussion-- possibly heated-- going on behind his eyes. Something is not right, here.
"Robin," he says. "Robin. I'm going to tell you what I know. I'm also going to Look at you. Tell your affines-- tell your friends not to be alarmed. Just nod."
The second sounding of her name brings Robin's attention back to Brennan. And she struggles to Listen to his words. One of those words, though, is Look. She doesn't like being looked at -- not by Brennan, not by Daeon, not by anyone. The girl's green eyes widen in, well, fear.
But, but, but... it's time and past time, she knew whether she was just an hysterical child or whether there was some other root to her fits and flights. And since Jovian never could understand or both her father and Vere are busy right now... well, if she's got to come all the way into the meadow, Brennan would be high on her list to creep to. Sooooo... she silently lets her fire-lizards know that she's okay. Really. Okay.
And nods to Brennan with wet eyes.
"Some of them were at the Funeral," Brennan says. Not Daeon's, not even Cambina's impending funeral ever has the audible weight of capitalization that Brennan imparts to Oberon's, "They weren't mourning."
Brennan speaks slowly because he's remembering, but also because he is slowly opening his third eye and focusing it on Robin. This is an act so familiar for Brennan that he normally does it with no more thought than opening his physical eyes when he wakes in the morning. Even as a necessary component in healing Lilly earlier today, the prelminary examination was rote and simple. But not this time.
"I think the Aisling spoke to them. I was... occupied. I remember Benedict telling us not to invite them to Amber, that they are... not welcome, is how I remember him saying it. I did meet them on the way home, though, with Bleys. We were scouting the advanced route for the rest of the army. We came across the High Marshall himself, and what might have been an honor guard. We spoke. He was rude. He invited me to Ghenesh, but I did not feel welcome. He said they'd been away from their home a long time, but that they would be returning soon. I had the sense that Oberon's death had made this easier. And they moved... like us, but not like us. As though they were both present and elsewhere at the same time."
By now, Brennan's third eye is open, and he has properly worked his sight into the Astral plane. Now he concerns himself with focusing properly. In much the same way that physical bodies have a structure and an anatomy, Brennan has noticed that most ordinary creature's Astral forms have something similar... if you know how to look. Just as a man has blood and nerves under the flesh, so do many Astral forms have complex, dancing flows of energy within. These are what Brennan wants to see, although they are difficult to isolate and focus on at the best of times, much less for a Lord of Amber.
"I know that they attacked Amber at least once," Brennan continues. "Sacked it, actually, and burned it. I know Bleys and Benedict fought in that war. I think Corwin and Caine did, as well, which makes it likely that Eric and Deirdre played a role. I'm not sure about Julian and Gerard, but I know it was before Random's time. The High Marshall was there as well. I know more about Bleys' part than anyone else's-- he led a force of cavalry called the Altamaran Knights against them. He led some at the Patternfall Battle, as well.
"That much, you can learn from history books in the Library," Brennan says. "But I've met the Knights of Altamara, and they tell the Battle of Jones Falls not as something that happened to them, but as something that happened to their grandfathers and great-grandfathers... and they hate the Moonriders with a passion that can only develop between kin," and Brennan should know. "They describe the Moonriders' sin as something to do with a foul form of sorcery practiced by their Queen, or Goddess, or both-- 'to preserve themselves' they said. They've fought alongside Amber twice, now, in payment for being relocated away from the Moonriders.
"So much for what I know. Here is what I think: That they are in some way connected to Tir-na Nog'th, and possibly to its Queen. I think if it is not their home, then it is at least where they consider themselves to be from. I think I don't know where or what Ghenesh is, but if it is a simple place, I think they are trying to go from there to Tir-na Nog'th or perhaps even somewhere beyond it. I think they should not be allowed to reach that goal, and I think," Brennan finishes with a rumble, "that if I find they had anything to do with Cambina's death, then I will exercise my invitation and give them a visitation that the Knights of Altamar will remember in song under starlit skies."
By now, Brennan is not simply looking at Robin's Astral form, he's looking within her as best as he'll be able to manage. Most peoples' subtle anatomy is a dancing weave or network of interlocking energy flows, but with a few distinct confluences or nodes that seem to be consistent and stable. If they are present and visible to Brennan's sight, he makes a careful examination of all seven of them, but thre are three that interest him particularly: One is at the crown which Brennan associates with clear and rational thought, with planning, and abstract thought and symbolic manipulation. Another is behind the throat, which Brennan associates with the simple power of speech, but also with mastery of, control over, and command of the external world; since Robin has been having trouble with speech, he lingers here particularly. And the third is at the base, which governs emptions so primal, that they are almost purely physical responses-- fear of falling, fear of drowning, fight or flight responses, prey-predator reactions, and the like.
Nor does Brennan neglect Robin's newfound friends, either. She may trust them. Brennan can only say that he doesn't distrust them. He does not examine them as closely as he does Robin, but he does give at least one of them a look over... primarily to see if there are any connections between the two.
"What was it about Garrett's and Brita's story that sounded familiar?" Brennan continues the examination while she answers. He's not really sure what he's looking for. He might even be looking for nothing.
Robin listens to Brennan's words about the Moonriders, nodding in places. Sounds alot like many of the other big non-Amber types. Got their very different ways of being, got their heavy agenda, hate us. Yep, sounds about right.
While the girl's listening, she lets her eyes wander off around the garden. It's bad enough being looked at, but she doesn't want to look at Brennan looking at her. Bleah. Too recursive.
But when Brennan asks his question, Robin returns her gaze to him a little incredulously. Why is he asking about things that are right in middle of the no-words land? Ah. Can't diagnosis a problem without poking at it. A wry tick of humor that lifts one side of her lips and she tries.
"T-t-tabl-eaux. F-f-f..." she sighs, "On, on, on the B-black R-r-road. I m-met a m-me. We... b-both th-thought the o-ther was Sh-shad-ow. St-st-uff hap-pened. And, and, and we c-came to... th-th-that. P-pit of c-c-corpses. Th-rone. N-no queen. Just c-c-c-crown. I, I, I... t-touch..." Robin grows very pale and decides that she needs to sit down now. So she does.
Hoping it won't interfere with Brennan.s vision too much, Robin leans her forehead on clasped hands over drawn-up knees and concentrates on breathing and Hearing Peep, Chirrup and Ooot.
Brennan starts with the Fire Lizards; they are simple creatures, organized in the way of animals, but with remarkably structured brains. They are somehow temporally abnormal, but it's unclear if it's magical or natural. It doesn't seem out of place in the beasts. Any connection they have to Robin is not thaumaturgical.
Brennan turns to his cousin, and looks for a long moment, seeing as clearly as his can with his sorcerous vision, interpreting the sharply contrasting, moving, flowing, images into some semblance of order. Order is the key, written into Robin's being as clearly as it is into his own.
It takes all of Brennan's skill and knowledge to see it, but he does find something. The hallmarks of order are patterns: sequence and order, time and stress. Brennan finds a pattern in her Astral self. A place where something ordered was, and is no longer--a thing not of herself but external, imposed. An ordered thing that nested in her, perhaps. To her body and spirit, it was like damage: a deformity or cyst. Without it, it is a void where something was.
Like an empty eggshell.
Brennan stares into Robin, and when she sits, he takes a moment and follows suit, folding himself gracefully into something of a lotus position across from her. Then he stares some more. One of the benefits of some long ago medical training is a poker face during the diagnosis procedure. Meeting one's self on the road, he can understand; he has been that deep into Chaos. But that other. That can't bode well.
At length, he says, "This much I know, Robin: You are not a Shadow. You are as Real as I am. I can see the marks of Order on you, and I can see the marks of Order in you that permit the outer marks without destroying you. I can show you later, if you have the patience."
Robin tips her face up to look at Brennan when he starts speaking, hope and fear warring in her eyes. And she listens closely. The corner of her mouth ticks quickly in a smile at Brennan's acumen. Yep, that's definitely one of her little... issues.
Her eyes close briefly and a deep breath goes through her. Okay, the Pattern, the Unicorn, Vere, and now Brennan. *All* of them say she's Real. Just what is it going to take to convince her?! Patience? Oh, she's in trouble. But that's not Brennan's responsibility.
She smiles fondly to him. Her cousin, who's having the worst day of his life, but still can't turn away. "Th-thank you, B-brennan." She'll make it up to him, she will. Somehow.
"What more can you tell me about the Black Road? Start from the beginning and end at the end," he says.
Except maybe that way.
Robin sighs in frustration and uncoils some to sit cross-legged on the grass. As her words continue to flutter away from her, she looks around the garden and pushes her hair back from her forehead, absent-mindedly leaving a grass stain there. After a while, she straightens her spine, mentally rolling up her sleeves and turns back to Brennan. "C-c-c...an't." She barely gets out. "Veeeereeee knows some. Not all. St-st-st..." she waves impatiently at her stumbling voice, "not so b-bad with him. V-v-v-very b-bad. H-h-ere. T-t-tonight." She shrugs sadly.
"If, if, if I th-think about.... R-road too much. I, I, I, I.... become L-lost." Blackness dances at the edge of Robin's vision but she forces herself to focus on the symptoms not the ailment, in hopes that that will buffer her somewhat from the... whatever.
"B-been push-ing. Don't like... this," she waves at herself. "B-b-but, but, but, but..." Shit. Okay deep breath. Change paths.
"B-brennan? A-am I d-d-d-d-dang-er to Am-amber? T-t-to F-family?"
"You're going to talk about this, Robin. It is important. But maybe not right now. A danger to Amber? In what way? Because of who and what you are? Because of what you've done in the past? Because of what you might do in the future?" Brennan asks.
"D-didn't say won't. Said c-can't. Understand important. Otherwise w-wouldn't expose self. L-like this." Robin wrinkles her nose in disgust. "B-but t-t-t... now? B-b-bad. No Vere. Anchors light." She waves to the firelizards.
"T-t-t-tired. A-afraid. Upset. S-surprised in-into it." She waves to herself. "P-push now, best I can h-ope for is, is... F-f-faint." She wrinkles her nose in disgust again. And steers back toward a slightly more articulate thought-path.
"Th-those dangers. Those dangers we all are. I mean, am I leaking intel to enemy? Unknowing. Could I explode hugely? Can I be ridden like Breeze was? That kind of thing." Those are the types of questions you ask a sorcerer and Chaos veteran.
Brennan spends another long moment Looking into Robin as best he can. Depending on her sensitivity, she can almost feel him squinting, Astrally. At length, "Short precise answer: I see no reason to believe that."
An enormous sigh bursts out of Robin and she closes her eyes briefly against tears of relief. The burden lifted off of her shoulders is almost palpable and the girl practically sways in giddiness. A bright glorious smile is quickly muffled behind her hands as inappropriate to her current surroundings, though obviously heartfelt. And the gratitude that colors her gaze to Brennan is bonfire bright.
But she doesn't want to derail her... what? Doctor? Confessor? Maybe better just to stick with cousin. So she keeps her hands where they are while Brennan works.
He thinks a little bit about how to keep his longer explanation non-technical and jargon-free. "In the aftermath of your brother's sacrifice," Brennan says with some mixture of sadness and admiration, "Fiona and I cleaned the residues of the event from Amber. And I took the opportunity to look back at the event through the Dusty Glass. Even from that distance in time, it was powerful enough to be visible-- brightly visible and vibrant with power that gave me close to a migraine. I don't know precisely what it did, but Fi and I both saw that it manifested very, very strongly in an Astral sense, which the basis of how I'm looking at you now. We speculated a bit on how to deal with that in a battle, but I haven't had the chance to put that to the test. Yet."
Robin nods thoughtfully. Brennan and Fiona saw light. She and Julian heard the Scream. Soooo, the Dragon's will is perceptible to others in the Family -- even if differently. Good, very good. Annnnnddd Brennan the responsible is on the job. Even better. She relaxes a bit more, lowering her hands now that the desire for giddy laughter has faded.
"Robin, if I had seen the slightest trace of that on you, we'd be in Xanadu with Fiona right now. I wasn't there, but I saw what Daeon had to do to free Brooke and Leif. It is not a Power I will play games or take risks with." Brennan sighs, then changes the topic, but only slightly.
Again she nods quickly and firmly. That's why she's enduring this. And if there is something wrong? Xanadu and the niece box, right now you betcha. Even if she's mortally afraid. Because despite Brennan's tone, Robin has decided to live with the pain and fear that being a chew-toy for higher powers causes. Not to die fighting it. She promised her father.
"All right, let's not talk about the Black Road, let's talk around it. Did you go, or were you sent? Either way, did you have any idea, through experience or training, about what things might be like on the farther end?" Brennan asks.
"Sent. I was sent." Robin says with an odd combination of pride and sadness. "Dad needed intel. He and Gerard hadn't... made it very far by brute force. He wanted me to, to, to sn-sneak a few days down the Road. And scout."
Robin winces as she remembers what came close to being her last words to her father. And moves on.
"I... we'd been fighting them in Arden, Brennan. For years. We thought they were Corwin's creatures. Twisted. Unnatural. We'd caught a few. There were interrogations. But, but..." she laughs ironically, "obviously no good intel. They were so... we didn't understand them. At all.
"So when I left?" she shakes her head. "I thought I... was going to fight more monsters. Like I had all my life. Bigger monsters, badder monsters, maybe. But just more monster-fighting. It was a challenge, a thrill. I was... young." She laughs sadly again. "Arrogant.
"I, I, I wasn't r-read... f-f-for... w-w-world... un-un-rav..." As her words desert her again, Robin makes a poof! gesture with both hands.
Brennan scowls at a lot of that, even shaking his head in a few places. "Unravelling?" he says. "It's almost the opposite, I think. One of the things that the Pattern does, I think, is keep things separate from each other. Space keeps objects separate. Time keeps events separate. If you go far enough away from the Pattern, those separations can start to break down. There's no longer any obvious reason you can't be in two places at the same time any more than there is a reason you can't be in two times at the same place. But you're still left with decades or centuries of intuition and you're never sure if the old rules are going to re-assert.
"I don't think that's all it does. I'm not even sure that's it's primary purpose, or just an outgrowth, but it's important. It's when the separation between entities begin to break down that things get very dangerous," Brennan says.
Then, what might seem like a non-sequitur: "How much do you understand about what happened to Daeon? Not with the Dragon. On the way home from the Fixed Place."
"N-not much." Robin's words become firmer as she moves away from the all-the-mixed together place. "No one wanted to talk much. Jove said Daeon and Lilly were scouting ahead. Came to a place where Hob demanded a story. Daeon got Lilly to stab him. Gift was accepted. And now stupid firelillies-- born of blood-- are building paths through Arden off into who-knows-where. Don't like those things. They sound bad." Robin sticks out her tongue. "Found 'em encircling the Unicorn's Grove. Ended that."
Brennan nods. "None of that is untrue," he says, "but it avoids mentioning at least one large problem, possibly because no one else of our generation understood it. Yes, Daeon and Lilly were off on their own, for whatever purpose. Yes, they met the thing called-- then-- the Hob. Yes, there was a gift of blood in exchange for passage from the Hob and its allies. Yes, one of the results of that was the FireLillies and those paths. No," he says, with some irritation, "I don't fully understand those, either. That's not all that happened, though.
"Fast forward some amount of time, to a place near the Tree, but on this side. Marius and his sister Signy were with Lilly, in a Shadow called the Plain of Towers. Marius had with him at that time an affine that he... inherited, for lack of a better word... from the Aisling. That affine was CloudEater, which she brought back with her from Chaos. Marius set the CloudEater against the Hob, probably because the Hob was being rude. What happened was that one of them-- I'm not sure which, and I doubt it is, either-- ate the other one. The result was neither the Hob nor the CloudEater. It certainly wasn't bound to Marius, or to that place any more. It called itself the Eater, considered itself its own Lord, possessed the memories and power of each, and fought off all three of them." Brennan pauses, waiting to see what inferences Robin draws from all that.
"All three...." Robin frowns, she doesn't like that at all. Then, "I wonder... is it trying to become a Lord of both Chaos & Order? Like Dara? Or Merlin? Or has it already?"
"It had no affines when I fought it. I think it preferred to eat. So I don't think it was technically a Lord of Chaos," Brennan says. "But that may be an academic distinction. It seemed more than powerful enough to take an affine if it wished. It also tried to eat me, so, yes, perhaps it is, but... I think it just preferred to eat.
"What it did have, when I first met it and it still called itself the Eater, was Daeon's memories. At least some of them. I don't think it had finished fully digesting the blood-- even without having walked the Pattern, Daeon's being resisted that breakdown of barriers between entities. But it was in the process of happening. It spoke with his memories, but not his self. It was mocking, and unlike your brother, far more interested in taking than giving." Brennan's poker face is good, but not good enough to hide the loathing and revulsion he finds in all of that.
"Which is why I wanted to talk to you," he says. "It is not calling itself the Eater, any more. It is loose, but it is not loose with your brother's blood, or his memories. Only the memory of having had them."
"Huhn." Robin blows another little fluff of breath out as she thinks about that one.
"Thank you, Brennan." Robin's voice is soft, yet heartfelt. Someone else who is protecting the family, even when cranky and not too terribly fond of some of its members, she knew there was a reason she liked him.
"Do you thiiinnnkk it was because Daeon was uninitiated that it was able to digest his memories at all? Dara and Aisling didn't seem to have any of Benedict's memories. And Merlin... well, honestly I don't know.
"And that thing's obviously developed a taste for Lords of Order. Verde. I gotta get Daeon's sons outta here." She whistles lowly as she shakes her head.
"It probably didn't help," Brennan says. "Beyond that, I don't know. I know the process works in the other direction, too. 'Spawning,' is what I've heard it called, when a Lord lets go some of its substance, resulting in two beings. That, I think, is how the Aisling came about. Or when enough of a Lord is destroyed, the result is a different thing-- like Cleph, or Saeth. Dara, I don't know about. I might be able to get some information out of--" Brennan thinks about that conversation with Benedict, "-- Madoc. Maybe. There's a lot I don't understand about the process, and a lot more I don't even want to think about. I have reason to believe that the variations can get a lot more peculiar," he says, grimacing. "But these are things people need to know before heading that deep into Chaos, lest they make bargains they just don't understand."
Then he stands, reversing the fluid motion he'd used to fold himself into his lotus position across from her. "But that's where I'm going, now. Not Chaos. Daeon's grave. Put his remains to rest. I thought--" he shrugs, but he's shrugging into the pack he had, so maybe it's not intentional, "-- I thought you had the right to be there."
"Hunh." Robin says again as it finally penetrates her flighty brain that Brennan... isn't going to yell at her. At least not right now. "Hunh." She repeats.
For a moment, she chews a lip in indecision, then bounces to her feet in absolute contrast to anything liquid.
"I'd like to be, Brennan. If you can stand more of my presence. But can you give me a quick sec? I'm not going there in a dress." She wrinkles her nose and swipes at the offending skirts. She quickly grabs up the large full pack that Couth brought and darts behind a bush. (Yes, that bush.)
Brennan doesn't frown, but his eyes harden into sufficient flint at that remark to betray that, yes, he is still angry with her. He nods, once, and waits.
As Robin moves towards a large bush, Brennan notices something beneath it. Well hidden from a casual observer, or even an untrained one, Brennan's exceptional talents show that something is hidden or hiding beneath it. Something, or someone.
When the something or someone catch's Brennan's attention, he scowls, and looks again briefly into the Astral plane to confirm his suspicion.
Behind the bush, Robin dumps out her pack noisly and proceeds to change out of her dress, draping it over the bush in front of her. However, despite that one of her most astute cousins is out there and he's got that... seeing thing, Robin figures anything is worth a shot. Because she is sooooo not going to leave poor Venesch alone, unconscious and hidden in the garden.
So, with a great deal of pretend cursing and fuss, Robin will dress very, very quickly and efficiently. Then she gently folds Venesch up in a way that she thinks will work. Looooks at her expedition frame style backpack. Frowns. Folds a different way. Checks again. And sighs. While she could definitely get Venesch in the backpack, she's not sure it would be... too good for him. And the backpack would definitely be all body-bumpy. Soooo, nothing for it but to accept the responsibility for her predicament where it falls.
Robin hoists Venesch gently over her shoulder and steps out from behind the bushes looking as innocent as she can.
When Robin comes out from behind the hedge, Brennan is standing there, as though he'd watched everything she did directly. His eyes are narrowed, and his head is tilted to regard Robin and Venesch's limp body with a very unamused, expectant expression.
He does not start walking. He folds his arms across his chest.
Robin looks at Brennan and a lot of emotions swiftly flit across her face. Her lips part a couple of times in aborted words. Eventually, she shrugs and says, "I... couldn't just let him die. That's all there is to it."
"Venesch is dying?" Brennan says. He makes no motion to assist.
Robin nods. She doesn't seem to need or be asking for any assistance.
Her brow furrows in thought as she tries to convey the situation. "His... honor was destroyed and he's not taking it well. I thought I'd take him to the King to see what we can do."
"In other words, he was trying to commit suicide after public dishonor," Brennan says. "Do you know the nature of this public disgrace?"
Oookay. If that's how Brennan's going to interpret it, she'll work with it-- though she has no idea where the 'public' or 'disgrace' bits came from.
"Ummmm..." Robin searches her memory and replies haltingly as she tries to put it together. "He said the King by his hand the Regent had accepted his resignation for... letting a valuable prisoner escape." She finishes up with a nod. Yep, she's pretty sure that was it. Or something really like that. Still makes no sense, though.
"Huon," Brennan says.
"Yeah, I figured." Robin presses her lips together, disapprovingly. "Boy, Caine is really in a snit." She shakes her head sadly at the sheer stupid waste of it.
Brennan is silent for a moment, perhaps waiting for something more from Robin. If he is, he evidently doesn't receive it. His face and voice grow incrementally colder. "You think Caine is over-reacting?"
Robin tilts her head at Brennan, her brows furrowed in confusion. "Yes," she says carefully as she doesn't understand what's going on. "I'm not saying that it's not important, I'm just saying...
"A brief recap of some things that happened on Venesch's watch that he wasn't fired for and didn't succeed in suiciding over. Corwin escaping from dungeons sealed with Heritage. King Eric dying in the Siege of Kolvir. Dara breaking into the Castle and walking the Pattern. Dara and company killing citizens during a royal event. The Dragon infiltrating the Castle and mauling Paige's kids. Caine being snatched unwillingly out of his office. I'm sure there are others that I'm forgetting now, but..." she shrugs.
"Now that I know Huon's a Pattern-breaker, yeah, he climbs up my threat list by leaps and bounds but still... serious shit's gone down before. Why the histrionics here and now?" She shakes her head. "Something else is going on. And I'm hoping that between Random and me we can figure it out and calm it down.
"Because this," she pats Venesch's waist, "is a loyal servant of Amber who doesn't deserve what's happening to him. In addition to being an extremely valuable memory and skill set that it would be just criminal to waste. For any reason.
"Iiiissss that what you're wanting to hear, Brennan?" She checks in with him.
"No. But, if I actually wanted to help the man, instead of-- somehow-- making his situation even worse, I might start by remembering which Prince of Amber left to his care he did not allow to escape. Did you think about how that conversation was going to play out?" It's clearly a rhetorical question, as Brennan does not wait for an answer. "Also, I might not begin with a litany of past failures on his watch.
"But there might be some merit that he does not deserve his present treatment, if it could be shown that this were not his fault. How might that case be made, Robin?"
"What failures, Brennan?!?" Robin practically stamps her foot in frustration. Men! "It was never his fault.
"Guy gets handed a portion that's too big for him. Over and over and over again. Does his job. Keeps his head steady. Minimizes the damage. Excellent performance. But now-- for this one particular instance-- Prince Caaaaaiiinnnine has decided he Failed. And this poor sod listened to him.
"I don't get that. I don't understand it at all. But I do understand that Venesch is one of Amber's finest men and I'll bet that the Prince he didn't let escape and who accepted his oath thinks so too.
"And by the way, no. I'm not going to take responsibility for men around me deciding that me not doing what they want is worthy of temper tantrums, finger pointing and the wanton destruction of one of Amber's finer assets. Both Caine and Venesch are responsible adults. Even if neither one is acting like it right now." She finishes sulkily.
"No," Brennan says, coldly. "You don't understand. Let's focus just on the things you don't understand about helping Venesch.
He continues, coldly, crisply, calmly: "First, you don't understand how to make the case you want to make. It's a bad idea to lead off with a list of all the problems that developed under his tenure. It's a worse idea to point out all the times, as you say, that the job was too big for him. Still worse is making all those out to imply that therefore, there really is no problem. You will not help him with that approach.
"Second, you don't understand the code by which Venesch lives. I don't have an intimate understanding of it either, but if you defend him in this fashion, he may take his own life out of pure shame before anyone has a chance to respond. He might do that anyway, if he thinks he is a charity case in some way.
"In that vein, you don't even understand that Venesch didn't listen to Caine, Caine listened to Venesch. Venesch volunteered his resignation. I was there. I witnessed it. Caine merely accepted it. This is important, lest you be asked for details and end up inadvertently accusing Caine of things he did not actually do.
"Nor do you seem to have understood that while this is a Family matter, it's also a court and political matter, because of the relationship of Amber to Xanadu. You will not merely be dealing with Random our uncle, but also Random our king. The person may be the same, but the outlooks will be different. And while I'm not willing to speak for either of them, I'd want to be damn sure I understood what I was asking for, and what answer I'd be likely to get, before I asked it. Because what you're asking, in some ways, will be Random our king to undermine his own regent's authority, on behalf of a man who helped keep him imprisoned for several years. Do you? Do you know what answer you'll get? Have you thought about a back-up plan? Or are you just screaming and leaping?
"I know you don't understand, Robin. What I don't understand is this: Why do you still think charging off is the right thing to do?
"If you actually want to help the man, take him to Jerod and ask for his help. Jerod is a creature of court life, born and raised to it. He's well connected in all of them. He'll have a better idea than you do how to make a case for him. And most importantly, he knows the man well, better than anyone else in the Family, and may have whatever insight is necessary to talk him off the ledge and accept help. And unless I'm gravely mistaken, he'll be willing to help because Venesch is his friend.
"Or is that too much trouble and preparation?"
When Brennan starts talking, Robin crosses her arms across her chest in full-on pout mode. But as he continues, she uncrosses her arms and allows many of his points with curt bobs of her head. Disallowed points get a roll of the eyes. But by the end of Brennan's diatribe, there have been more nods than eye-rolls. So Robin sighs and says,
"Okay, most of that was fair," she wrinkles her nose. "and what wasn't you weren't there for, sooooo....." she shrugs.
"Thing is... I am really trying to help Venesch and I know I'm underqualified for that, Brennan. But still, I was the man on the scene and I have to do what I can. But just so you don't think I'm aaaallllll idiocy and leap before I look," (she's only mostly idiocy and leap before she looks) "I suggested Jerod to Venesch right off. Or Benedict. Men of honor who understand courts and politics. He said they wouldn't help him because they were all sworn to the King. Which I don't think is correct, but... " she shrugs again.
"So, then I suggested Prince Vere of Danu-- honorable man, court, politics. But Venesch said no to that too, because..." Robin's brow furrows as she tries to keep her memory line clear, "beeecause it would hurt his family and their allies because Vere's not a King.
"Every trail I walked with this guy ended in either dead, King or dead and King. Which is why, even though it's against my own best interests right now, I wanted to take him to Random. I think... thought the King is the only person Venesch would be willing to listen to in the short window we've got before he succeeds in his intentions. Aaaannnd my backup plan was Vere, someone who is totally able to translate Robin-speech into something that is, I dunno, less offensive I guess?
"If you really think that Jerod can help, I'm totally willing to walk that path. Buuuuuttt, look how much trouble you're having Robinicity right now. (By the way, you're doing great. Much better than I have or would.) What's your honest opinion of Jerod and me being able to solve this without ending up doing something really stupid, like a duel or some other dumb shit?"
"Jerod will deal with you as he sees fit," Brennan says. "If you are expecting him to greet you with open arms and overflowing heart after the events of this day, revise those expectations downward right now.
"And understand," he continues, coldly, "that you have created a situation with no silver bullet solution, no magic wand you can wave simply to make it right again. There may not be a solution, here. But were I in your situation, I would take him to Jerod and ask him for his help. It is possible that I misjudge the relationship between Jerod and Venesch, but I expect that helping Venesch will engage both his natural sympathies toward a friend and his own self-interest."
Robin looks at Brennan silently for a moment. Yet again, their two statements seem... tangentially related and yet somehow not meeting. And the whole conversation is reminding her oddly of her first talk with Daeon. That just can't be good, especially given how that one ended.
Several thought/emotion conglomerates dart around behind her eyes. Flashes of anger, touches of sadness, determination, a mightly fight for patience, coldness of her own. What eventually emerges is a kind of weary formality.
"Thank you for your advice, cousin." Robin bows slightly. "I will take your words under strong consideration.
"In the meantime, my time in Amber grows short. Perhaps it is best to leave the events of this day for another. If you still wish my presence at my brother's grave, I would still accompany you. But I would prefer leave now and I cannot return afterward."
"Do as you will, Child of Ysabeau," Brennan says, sharply. He turns and walks off in the direction of Daeon's grave, without waiting to see if she follows.
Robin watches Brennan leave. And waits until he is some distance away before letting the wry smile creep to her lips. "That's the whole point, Brennan Brandson," she murmurs quietly to herself with a shake of her head. Men!
With a chuckle, Robin turns back to the bush over which her erstwhile clothing is draped. The irony of a 'Child of Ysabeau' barb being thrown by Brennan of the suddenly sparkly fingers -- of all the people -- too good, too good.
But quickly enough, the smile drops away to a sigh. "Well, Captain Venesch," she says, patting him again. "You'd better be in more danger than my nephews or I'm gonna hate myself in the morning."
The Ranger breaks a quick sequence of Cadence into the leaves and branches of the bush.
Couth. Called away. Get Daeon spawn to Xanadu fastest. Meet you there. Robin
And then, since she suspects that Brennan will have an easier time getting out this of this working and high alert Castle with his barrel o' blood than she will with the body of the Captain of the Guard over her shoulder, Robin sets herself a different course. Using her knowledge of the Castle grounds, her Ranger skills and all the Heritage it takes, Robin does her best to get out of the Castle unobserved. If possible, she'd like to get to Daeon's memorial before Brennan, if only because it'd be rude to be late. And besides she has to stash Venesch nearby before... uhhhh, being there, she guesses, or whatever it is that Brennan wanted.
Robin hurries, within the constraints of not being seen and carrying a full-grown samurai warrior. She does not beat Brennan (who took the direct, observed route with his barrel of blood), but he is arriving as Daeon's Cairn comes into sight. Venesch could be stashed nearby easily and Robin would only be a bit behind Brennan.
If Brennan notices her approach, he gives no evidence of it. After he arrives, he keeps the pack on his back, and begins gathering wood and arranging it as for a small pyre.
Robin gently places Venesch somewhere where she can easily see him, he's comfortable, in no danger, but still outside of the clearing that contains Daeon's Cairn. Then she and her firelizards will stroll in.
She keeps out of Brennan's way -- and out of his none way -- idling around the edges of the clearing.
[OOC - I forgot to mention earlier, but Robin would have gathered all of Venesch's gear (blanket, swords, what have you) and kept it with her. Though not in the out-in-the-open visible way.]
As Brennan continues to gather wood for the fire, several things become apparent. First, he is planning for something more than a haphazard campfire or bonfire. He's gathering too much wood for something like that, and placing it too carefully. When lit, the fire is going to burn very hot and for a very long time. Second, he is either particularly focussed on that and unobservant of all else around him, or he is ignoring Robin's presence while he goes about his self-appointed task.
When he has enough material gathered, and placed into a form that pleases him, only then does Brennan take the pack off his back, and remove the urn. The urn itself is also made of wood, although if there are any particular marks on it, they are lost in the fading evening light. He places it carefully, almost reverently, at the center of the pyre.
"I'm not going to invite you twice," he calls out, not loudly and in a neutral tone.
Robin quietly steps forward to join Brennan at his construction. While she definitely understands the burning bit, she's obviously unfamiliar with any other ritual that may or may not be going. But still doesn't want to sully it by word or deed.
Brennan may intuit the source of Robin's hesitation, or he might not. Whichever the case might be, he takes two pieces of wood that he had gathered up along with that for the pyre, but which he had not placed among it. They are suitable for lighting on their own, and he does so with decidedly mundane means, turning the inert pieces of wood into two burning brands.
He hands one to Robin. "Speak, if you wish," he says. He doesn't tell her not to light the pyre, but if she moves to do so, he motions to stop, because he hasn't spoken, either. If he has any ritual in mind, it doesn't seem to be very complex, nor metaphysical-- none of his actions have been anything other than manual, mundane labor.
Robin takes the brand from Brennan with a raised eyebrow. For a moment, she looks at the carefully arranged and almost reverent construction before her. The girl presses her lips together, torn between honesty and tact yet again. In the end, she can only do her best for both brother and cousin.
"Hi ...Daeon." There was definitely another word there, but Robin has opted for tact.
She continues in a epistolic tone of voice, full of all the warmth and exasperation that only a kid sister can possess. "Brennan found some more bits of you that were being used badly and he's come to return them. I'm still working on the flowers, but I'll be sure to leave some here for you.
"Ummmm, Dione hasn't broken surface yet, but it went well and I think you'll be pleased. If you could watch over the kids for a while, I'd appreciate it. And please let me know if there's anything I can do for your progeny in Arcadia.
"That's about it for now. I'll visit again when I get a chance. Au revior, mon frere. Take care of yourself."
She blows a fond kiss to the urn. Then looks down at her feet to give Brennan his room for speech.
Brennan listens to Robin's words in silence, balancing in his mind whether or not to do something. Sentimentally, he would prefer not to use Sorcery or Pattern or any metaphysical Power at all. Analytically, though, the contents of that urn are as powerful a weapon as the one Huon had unleashed on Rebma just hours before, and he must know if the simple fire will be enough to destroy it, or if more help is needed. Cold analysis wins, and Brennan softly pushes his vision into the Astral plane to monitor it. And, in for a penny in for a pound: if he's going to speak, he may as well speak into the Astral as well as into the Air, and perhaps be heard.
"Daeon," he says, "Cousin, Knight-Commander, father of many, and more." For all that he's thought about what he would say, in this time and at this place, the words still come slowly. "I'm sorry, Daeon. Sorry that, at the end, all I've been able to do for you is this destructive thing. But, I could not leave even a scrap of you in that defilement. Sorry that, at the end, you were driven to the sacrifice you were. But, I know what it is to be willing to die for something larger than yourself, that you love with all your essence. Let it be told in your defense that you died for your children. I understand. It is enough. Rest."
Brennan is silent and bows his head also, then lifts the lit torch in a salute, lingering long enough at it that Robin can join him in it, or not. Then he slowly lowers the torch to the pyre.
Robin doesn't salute her brother's pyre, they were too much brother and sister for that. But she joins Brennan in lowering her own flame, so that, hopefully, the flames will meet and catch at the same time.
Brennan takes a step back and watches silently and the flames spread over the pyre, then over the wooden urn. He watches through Astral senses until he is convinced that what is left cannot be used as a weapon.
It takes some effort to get the fire hot enough to ensure the contents of the pyre are completely destroyed, but in the end there is nothing left of it for Brennan to see either physically or astrally.
As the fire burns, Robin fades back to the perihery of the clearing and watches the flames contemplatively. She gives Brennan all the room he needs, but won't leave until the fire is well and truly burned out.
Robin also uses the fire dying down time to check in on Venesch. Make sure he's stable, hardly injured at all and deeply unconscious.
When Daeon's remains are vanished to Brennan's senses and the fire has died to ashes, embers and desultory flames, Brennan bows his head one last time in farewell. As Robin is coming back from checking on Venesch, he speaks, still watching the flame. "I have two last pieces of advice, Robin. One is Sorcerous, bearing on our earlier conversation about you at the far end of the road. One is closer to home. Neither will be easy to hear. You can do with them what you will, but they're a mached set. Both, or nothing."
"Both.... thank you." She says almost immediately. She knows she could have done Brennan the courtesy of pretending to think about it, but honestly? She's never been one to shy away from hard hearings. And if Brennan feels strongly enough to talk to her at this time, then she can listen.
"Don't thank me yet," Brennan says, still staring at the embers. He sounds tired.
"First. Don't go to Jerod bearing his broken friend in your arms, telling him about the cruelty of fate and Family, constantly throwing him in over his head, when it was your hand and thoughtless deed that threw him in this time and finally broke him. Jerod was there, too. He knows what happened. And I don't know how many men lost in the war he'll be mourning, wondering how many will die the next time Huon makes a run of it.
"I doubt very much this is how the Rangers run. Show a sense of responsibility. If I have to be crude to get through: Grow up. Fast.
"Do with that advice what you will. That was the easy one.
Brennan doesn't turn back to watch the reaction on that, but he does pause a moment, considering how to phrase the next piece, or perhaps marshaling his resources for it.
Behind Brennan, Robin crosses her arms over her chest as an ironic smile ticks one corner of her mouth. This is her fault, but not in what or the way Brennan means it. A youthful aspect, a baby face, childish speech patterns and poof! She's a kid. Thoughtless and irresponsible.
With no experience of mourning men lost in a war. Or enduring the continued presence of those who were directly responsible, not merely complicit in a less-than-optimal conclusion. She's never held broken friends in her arms, watched them die from the burns that their King bestowed upon his loyal servants. So, of course, she would never ever step in to see that that didn't happen to another.
And she's certainly not the one who is gearing up to do her best to hold together the Shadows near Amber and Arden that her uncles and cousins tore in their familial monomania. Or set herself against a wakened and violated enemy that makes Huon look like a little boy, merely because her cousins were of a mood to go anywhere, sacrifice anything to get to their big, bad Uncle. Because, as the Black Road War has proven, it's ever so much more important to imprison an Uncle than to pay attention to the enemies circling about one.
But like his previous 'magic-wand' comment, this little speech shows that this is not the time to take this up with the wounded, weary and grief-stricken Brennan. Maybe once they are not standing on the torn and fraying shadow of Amber with the Regent nearby, coiled and hissing. And after Cambina's service, where Jerod and Brennan can hopefully find some kind of closure. Maybe then she can explain to Brennan and Jerod just exactly what kind of arrogant, ignorant, irresponsible and fucked-up behavior the two of them have been engaging in in her territory. With fists if necessary. Idiots!! Men.
But for now, Robin just waits with crossed arms for the next piece of advice, hoping it will be a little more relevant.
Getting no response, Brennan turns to face her, eyes glittering in the firelight and perhaps something else. "Before, when I Looked at you," his diction makes it clear exactly what moment he's speaking of, and that he might be doing it now, "I saw something. More precisely, the lack of something."
There's a brief pause as Brennan tries, and mostly succeeds, in keeping the cold mask in place. "For lack of a better phrasing, something... made a nest of your soul. I didn't see what it was. I saw no remains of it-- and believe me, I sought for them-- except what was moved aside to make room for it. So to speak. I've never seen anything like it, or heard of anything like it. You now know everything I know about it.
"I'd guess this happened at the far end of the Black Road. I would ordinarily guess that something of Chaos was there, but I saw no trace of Chaos, so... I don't know. You now know everything I conjecture." Brennan looks at Robin with some concern leaking through the mask. "I will give whatever advice I can, now and in the future, but right now, I have none. Other than: Find it."
Robin raises a nonplussed eyebrow. Now there's a thing to give a girl serious pause. She's been used as a breeding-pit!?! Luckily, she's too mad right now to pay much attention to the nausea curling around in the pit of her stomach. Or the clammy sense of violation that's slowly worming its way up her spine.
She'll save the hysterics and the white-hot vengeance for later. Right now there's a valued life to save. And as soon as afterwards as she can manage, a critical defense to man. If she survives that? Then yep, time to go hunting.
She nods to Brennan. Major badness noted. And her responsibility.
Robin's lips twitch a few times as she tries to wrestle her words into something non-explosive. Eventually the Ranger comes up with, "Thank you, Brennan... Please don't leave the fire burning." She spins on her heel, striding out of the clearing. Stopping only to pick up Venesch and all his accoutrements before heading into the forest.
Brennan doesn't follow. He tends to the fire until it goes out for good, then gives a bone-weary sigh and uses the last light of the embers to trump Fiona.
Last modified: 26 December 2009