Once the children are settled for the evening it's to the sketchbook and throwing herself into a sketch of the warden, spending the entire night should she need it, expecting that she will.
It goes quite well, better than Paige expects, actually. She realizes that she could have done better by borrowing a trump for reference from Random or Martin, but she will have a trump after this. It's of good quality, and it feels as if it will last for more than a few weeks. At dawn, she feels that she could use it to contact the Ranger's commander.
A bath is in order first, quick and cool. Enough to wash up and scrub away the previous days' adventure, but not enough to allow herself to relax and sleep yet. On her way back to her room, she orders some coffee and some sort of breakfast to the sitting room.
Paige braids her still damp hair, a wry smile at how much quicker it is at the new length. As she's done a thousand times before, she regards herself in the mirror as she dresses. Lucas was right, she did look better with a few more curves. The weight in the face she could do without, but even a few months after the children were born, already her stomach showed no signs. Her hips, well she had always had hips, and if her breasts seemed a little heavier, no one had complained. She chuckles at the thought that Blythe was going to have to take new measurements for any new dresses. Where had all the changes come from? Not just this outward appearance, but even the idea that she was a mother was still new and scary to her at moments. Her reflection laughs at her, with a missing uncle's voice, but she meets it with her own chuckle, dispelling his presence here. The children might've robbed her of a dozen years she might've had to grow into the role of their mother, but that wouldn't keep her from doing what she could to ensure their safety.
She buttons her emerald colored bodice over an offwhite blouse before stepping into the patterned lightweight skirt. No stockings today, just her emerald slippers, unless her uncle chose to drag her off somewhere. As satisfied as she might be, Paige seats herself before a window in her sitting room, smiling at the smell of the coffee. She indulges herself in a cup, light and sweet, before opening the sketchbook again and concentrating on her uncle as she had depicted him, astride that monster of a horse, not half as arrogant as she had originally expected the sketch to look. His eyes hint at concern more than contempt. She focuses there and wills them to see her.
The voice comes first, even, if a touch wary. "Who calls?"
"Paige, Uncle," she replies, no touch of fatigue in her voice. "I was hoping you might have time to talk, or at least offer a time that would be better."
Julian, still muddy and dirty, is standing in a forest somewhere--Arcadian, Paige guesses--with a man's body over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. It could easily be his son. "Are you in Xanadu? I have Jovian. I need to come through." He extends his hand.
She nods, stands and moves a few steps right where there's more room for her uncle and cousin. Paige extends her free hand, ignoring the imaginary twinge of pain in her chin when she looks at her mad cousin's unconscious form.
Julian takes her hand and steps through into the room.
"Do you wish to rest him here or should we get him to the infirmary?" She moves the sketchbook that holds her satchel from the large couch opposite whe she was sitting and rearranges the throw pillows to make room for Jovian.
"The infirmary. He'll need to be restrained when he awakens." Julian does not sound pleased.
With Paige's help, Julian takes his unconscious son to the infirmary. This time Jovian is bound to the bed and sedated so that he'll stay put until Julian can get cleaned up. Perhaps half an hour later, Julian has had a chance to do exactly that. Someone has brought a selection of finger foods, and Julian and Paige are in the room where Jovian is chained to the bed, eating, with a chance to talk.
"So," says Julian, after making sure Paige has had a choice of the kitchen's delicacies, "you contacted me for a reason, no doubt."
Paige nods, a small smile as she finishes her cup of tea. "It's not easy for me admit my ignorance, Uncle," she begins. "And while you keep assuring me that the circumstances that surround my children and their role in the Arcadian situation may be beyond my comprehension, I'd like to make an attempt to help you find some sort of resolution, permanent or temporary.
"I'll admit a bias. I'm not concerned with Amber or Arden or even Xanadu's safety." Her green eyes are clear and focused as she regards him confidently. "I'm concerned for the twins, but I've not so naive to think that there aren't a number of solutions that would serve several of those problems. I'm their mother and I'd like to be involved in whatever is decided.
"They believe that if they turn the seasons that it'll imprison the Dragon," she says. "And I think they're willing to try. But will that be enough?"
Julian gives a thoughtful frown. "That bargain held for five centuries. But the lives of two children are fragile reeds with which to bind a Dragon. You saw Canareth before he died, did you not, Paige?"
Paige nods, not sure where this is going. "I agree, and I'm loathe to let them take any place in this, but by nature of their birth, like we who are destined for the Pattern, they seem uniquely suited."
Julian meets Paige's gaze with his own. "So were Daeon and Dione, and they lie as dead as Canareth, and the dragon I once rode like him. And all but Dione died at the hand, or rather the claw, of the Dragon you wish to bind with your children."
"I HATE the idea of using the children so, but Artemis made it clear that she believes killing her mother with decree the same fate for Arcadia. I don't like that option, not with them so closely tied to it."
Confusion crosses her face. "And I thought Canareth died in the Isles."
"Canareth did die in the Isles. My dragon died in combat with the Dragon," Julian explains patiently. It's not a manner Paige would have associated with Julian.
She nods. "I'm sorry, I just misunderstood when you said that all but Dione," she begins to explain, obvious concern for her uncle coming to the fore. Paige stops herself before she puts her other foot in her mouth.
"Then what are our other options as you see them?" she asks, stifling the addition of asking what she might be able to do.
"I have always believed the Dragon should be destroyed. There are risks, but the risks of having it so close to Amber were great. And the risks of having it there, now, are even greater," Julian says. "Without a Pattern to center Amber, the Dragon could swallow the city and castle into its sphere of influence."
"But I was under the impression that without the Pattern that Amber would fade," Paige answers. "What does she profit in gaining a waning Shadow?"
She looks towards Jovian's now calm form. "I worry that Artemis was truthful, that your grandchildren will live with a hole in their hearts where Arcadia should live."
"We all have holes in our hearts. It is the price of immortality," Julian replies, his expression as calm as that of the unconscious dragonrider. "They already have one in the shape of their father, my son." He looks at Paige significantly.
"And I do not know what she would profit by taking Amber. What I do know is that the late King, my father, told me to defend it, even after his death. I swore I would do it, and I shall."
Paige frowns. "You're right, they already have one hole, so why be so quick to give them another?" She doesn't raise her voice, but she seems annoyed that he'd choose the dead over the living.
"So how can I be of help?"
"In which endeavor? In protecting the children from their grandmother? In defending Amber? Some combination thereof? Or something else?" The prince frowns thoughtfully. "I haven't the time to make a Ranger of you, and in any case I doubt you'd wish to be so long from the children."
He gives her an assessing look. "I'm not sure you have the skill at arms to slay a dragon."
"I think I'd suprise you, but you're right, I'm far from battle hardened," she admits. "I am who I am, uncle. What skills I may have are at your disposal however you would use them in any and all of the above. If I need pay Weyland's price for a blade or lance or whatever weapon he might offer to slay the beast... If that's what I must give to protect the children, it's what I'll offer."
Julian frowns. "With Weyland I cannot help you, for I have not dealt with him. Have you some knowledge of him, or some way to find him, if he still lives?"
"I have people I trust making inquiries, but nothing solid at the moment," she admits. "But I wasn't speaking of that as an immediate path, more of a hyperbole to illustrate my point.
"Look on me as a blade, uncle, and wield me as you will, knowing I will not be content to sit out the battle in some armory," her eyes spark with energy. "Make me a Ranger if that's what it will take. I'll become Random's Hand on the Cliffs of Xanadu and guard my children's home like you have Amber. I don't know the path I need, Julian. Help set my feet upon it."
Julian's eyes flash and he turns away to look at Jovian. After a moment he speaks; his voice is harsh. "Had I an easy answer to the salvation of your children, mine would not lie dead."
Paige takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "Is it my gender? My father?" she asks, voice even an calm. "Why do you think I'm looking for the easy answer? Why aren't I worthy of being your ally in this?"
The prince turns back to Paige. "You have met my daughter, and yet you ask me these questions?"
"Then perhaps I'm misreading you, but I get the impression that you'd be happier if I just concerned myself with raising the children and got over my silly ideas about being helpful." She doesn't seem upset, more like she is truely trying to understand why he's so hesitant to to accept her.
"Robin has _earned_ my trust," Julian replies. "If I were to train you as I did Robin--not that such is possible at this late date--but if I were to try, and you to try to earn my trust as she has, you'd have to give up your children. The way of the Rangers--the way I was taught, and the way I taught her, until I let her fly on her own--does not admit of two masters. And motherhood is at least such a master as I would be."
His niece seems to begin to understand.
He looks out the window. "If you'd protect Xanadu as I protect Amber, look to the forest. That is where your enemies will come from."
Paige nods. "I'll make it my focus then." Already gears are turning. "If I can continue to draw on Couth's knowledge, I'd appreciate it."
"Of course."
"I'm sure the children would like to see you before you return to the field," she suggests.
"I need to remain with Jovian," Julian replies. "After he assaulted Cambina, I dare not leave him alone. But if you could bring the children here, I would appreciate it."
"Of course," Paige agrees. "They should be in the yard, at work with Mace," she remembers aloud.
Taking breakfast in the kitchen -- Martin having gone off early to talk to his father about something and not yet returned -- Folly overhears that Jovian has returned (or possibly has been returned) to the castle, and is still unwell. She quickly finishes her toast and eggs, returns to her room just long enough to retrieve her mandolin, and heads for the infirmary.
Julian is sitting in a chair at the foot of the bed where Jovian lies sleeping. Jovian is chained to the bed with what Folly would describe as a primitive handcuff. Julian looks like he might have slept in that chair, and could stand to sleep in the chair a while longer, but he rises when she enters, as if she were the Queen and he were at court.
"Kinswoman," he says, with a bit of a question in his voice.
Folly blinks at the unexpected scene. "Forgive me, I didn't mean to intrude," she says in a low voice, and gives a slight bow. "I'd heard my cousin was in the infirmary, and had thought to visit. I didn't realize---" Brow slightly furrowed in concern, she regards her alleged ancestor. "How is he doing?"
"He's unconscious, which is the best thing for him now. And he'll remain so for a while. I've chained him. He'd find it hard to serve me the way he served Cambina, but he might catch me out if I fall asleep." Julian looks at Jovian for a moment. "He's mad now, and will be for a time."
Folly regards her cousin, chained to the bed. "I'd thought I might sing to him. I don't know if it will help. Sometimes it does, a little; perhaps it will ease his dreams, if he has them." She shrugs, a bit shyly, and looks at Julian. "Have you eaten? Please, let me send up for some breakfast. Or at least coffee."
"That would be a kindness. Thank you." Julian gestures to Folly to take his chair and moves to the door. "I'll send up for breakfast."
Folly hesitates for a bare instant, but then nods and moves toward the chair.
On the bed, Jovian stirs slightly , and Julian turns to watch him and make sure he doesn't awaken. Once the younger man stops moving again, Julian goes to the door and summons a page. Folly hears him order breakfast.
As she settles onto the chair, she watches the door sidelong, listening to the tone and cadence of her kinsman's words.
Once he's done, Julian turns back to Folly. "Once you've played for Jovian, perhaps we can discuss the contents of your letter."
"I'd like that," Folly says with a small smile. Her fingers find the strings of her mandolin and tap at them softly, checking the tuning.
When she is satisfied, she turns her attention to Jovian. She starts playing, softly, and then singing, an ageless soothing lullaby tune full of calm hope and safe spaces and love. It is a song she learned as a girl, but she has heard similar versions sung among the docksiders in Amber.
She watches her cousin for any sign of reaction.
Jovian is out like a light, and it's not obvious that anything has changed by the time Folly finishes her tune. Julian, on the other hand, has fallen into a light doze in his chair. He starts to stir when Folly stops playing.
A hasty mental calculation suggests to Folly that they still have a few minutes yet before breakfast arrives. She eases back into the tune, hoping to coax her kinsman to a few more moments of rest. At the first tell-tale rattle of an approaching food-laden cart, though, she fades out again and carefully sets her mandolin aside.
"And just in time for breakfast," she says, pleasantly and not too loudly, as if she hand't worked it out that way on purpose. If Julian doesn't beat her to it, she rises and goes to the door to see to the cart.
Julian awakens as Folly stops playing, and comes to his feet at the knock of the door. A few minutes later, a hearty repast is set out before them. Jovian is still down for the count, despite the appetizing smell.
"You'll have to excuse me. I'm an old campaigner and I've learned to eat and sleep when I can, in case my next opportunity for either isn't near." Julian is a surprisingly neat, if hearty, eater. Folly suspects he knows how to manage a three-course meal in the saddle.
"Would you rather talk about the letter now or wait until after you've eaten?"
"We can talk over breakfast, if that's alright with you," Folly says. "After which--- If you'd like to try to get a proper sleep in, I'd be happy to sit with Jovian for a while, and let you know when he wakes." Her tone is polite but also a touch maternal, as if she's fighting the instinct to march Julian straight off to bed and tuck him in with a blanket and a glass of warm milk.
"I would prefer not to see a woman with child expose herself to the sort of injuries Cambina took while guarding Jovian," Julian replies. "Jovian will be dangerous for a long time. I need to take him away from Xanadu and Amber both, and release him where he can run freely until he recovers from the psychic wound he's taken."
Folly blushes slightly at the mention of her pregnancy, but nods her understanding. "I don't know whether this will be of use to you, but...." She pauses, as if searching carefully for the right words. "I need to return soon, briefly, to the shadow of my birth. The city where I grew up would not be a safe place for him; but to the north there's farmland, and mountains, and a large, undeveloped forest. I'm told that's where my grandfather is."
Julian considers this for a long moment between bites of his breakfast. "It might be a suitable place. But Jovian won't stay in a single shadow for many years. Do you need an escort to your home shadow?"
Folly frowns thoughtfully. "I should be able to get myself there easily enough, by shifting or by sketching. I am of two minds on the question of going alone, though." She stabs at a piece of sausage. "I need to talk to my mother, who as I may have mentioned in my letter can be trying at the best of times. I don't know whether having someone else along would make things better or worse." She takes a bite of breakfast, and adds after a moment, "I also haven't quite decided how much to tell her yet."
Julian keeps his eyebrow under control despite its momentary desire to rise. "Under the circumstances, she'll undoubtedly have many questions. Do you propose to bring her back to Xanadu with you?"
"Also undecided. It'll depend in large part on how she reacts to seeing me. And, you know, finding out she's going to be a gram." Folly sighs and lays an arm across her belly, protectively. "Although if I don't, she'd probably make her way here accidentally anyway, what with the new Pattern drawing people in and all. So unless she boots me out of the house outright and tells me never to come back, probably yes. At least for the wedding. Er, did we mention there's going to be a wedding?"
"I had heard something of the sort from Random. You have my best wishes, of course. If you expect your mother to throw you out of the house, _someone_ will certainly have to come with you." The last is said in a tone of utter disapproval. "Do you expect her to throw you out of the house?"
"Dunno. Even odds." Folly frowns. "We, ah, didn't exactly part on the best of terms when last we met." She looks at Julian, and her brow furrows questioningly. "Why would it be important for someone to come with me if she's gonna throw me out of the house? I'd think that might make it worse -- for certain values of 'someone', anyway."
The eyebrow finally gives up and arches. "If your mother is of the royal blood, and she's that volatile, there would be a risk to you and your unborn child, would there not? I hate to think that my granddaughter would be so uncivilized as to strike her pregnant daughter, but my faith in the good sense of some of my descendants is exceedingly thin these days."
Folly opens her mouth to protest that she's pregnant, not dying of consumption, and perfectly capable of bouncing back from a little slap...
...but then she remembers the stories of Oberon's wives -- including Julian's mother -- who were excessively weakened by their pregnancies, or even died in childbirth, and thinks the better of her protest. "Um," she says. "Maybe I should wear a 'Baby on Board' t-shirt so at least she'd know before she did something stupid." In a smaller voice, she adds, "I don't think she keeps a gun."
Julian's eyebrow retreats to its usual place as Folly speaks. "Guns are unreliable but deadly enough in the shadows where they function. I would expect my granddaughter to be a crack shot. So we shall have to hope that she does not, in fact, keep a gun."
Julian takes a bite of his breakfast, chews, and swallows, before asking, "How long do you propose to be gone? I begin to think that I should definitely accompany you to meet your mother."
Folly pours herself a small cup of coffee and lifts it in her cradled hands to savor its aroma. The mug conveniently covers her mouth, but her expression -- that mix of amusement and exasperation so typical of interactions with family -- is clear in her eyes as she contemplates her kinsman through the rising steam.
"It might give Martin some comfort to know I'm not going alone, since I'm doubtful he can accompany me," Folly reasons aloud; something in her tone suggests that by 'can', she might also mean 'should'. "And I'm sure my mother would be interested to meet you. That might make things easier -- the talking to her, I mean. But I should warn you---" She sets her mug down again and fixes Julian with a serious look. "The place we're going won't be what you remember from a hundred years ago, or however long ago you were there. It's in a different, more urban part of the country, for one thing; and for another, it's... grown."
Julian gives Folly a sadly disappointed look. "The fact that I do not favor so-called 'high-technology' shadows doesn't mean that I don't know how to behave in them. And since I'm not sure I even recall the place where I met your ancestor, I doubt I shall be terribly disappointed by the changes. Shadows are like that when you leave them," he explains.
"Forgive me," Folly says, "I think I'm telling things backward. It's not you I was worried about -- certainly not your ability to behave properly. Rather, I'm concerned about him." She nods toward Jovian. "My original plan had been to trump straight to my mum's place, but from what you've said I'm not sure such a densely populated area would be the safest for him, nor those around him. If you need to get him settled elsewhere first, we'd need to go the long way 'round. Or shift first, and then trump, perhaps."
Julian nods. "When do you propose to go? Sooner is better than later for my purposes." He looks sidewise at the bed and its unconscious occupant.
Folly shifts in her chair, preparing to rise. "I just need to let Martin know. He's having breakfast with his fa---" She cuts off abruptly with a puzzled frown, as if she's no longer certain of what she was about to say. For a long moment, she seems to be listening for something; not hearing it, she fishes a small case from her pocket, thumbs out the top card, and concentrates on it.
"Martin?"
There is no answer. It's not as if Martin is blocking the way he was in Tyrell, either. For whatever reason, there's no contact.
Folly frowns at the card, concerned. She looks up at Julian. "I can't get a contact. I think I need to check in with the King. I'll try to return within the hour, or send word if I'm detained. Is there anything you need that I can retrieve or have sent for while I'm out?"
"You've sent breakfast, which is quite enough." Julian gestures at the plate. "I shall be here when you return; I think it unwise to leave Jovian alone."
Folly nods and rises to go. "I'll be back as soon as I can."
With that, Folly departs in search of the King.
Paige brings the children to see their grandfather and then toddles them off for their afternoon lessons. Once settled with thier slates and books, she goes to find the King.
Paige finds Random in the library, holding a crowbar and looking in a box that's on it's side. Whatever's at the back, he's having trouble reaching it.
"Isn't that always the way?" Paige chuckles. "No matter which box you choose, what you want is in the last one, or if you get lucky enough to get it even first, it's in the bottom.
"If you've got a moment, I've had a conversation with Julian, and I think I've kinda an idea on what I'd like to do for you here in Xanadu," she says as she sits in a nearby chair, cocking her head and trying to see what he's grabbing at.
"Yeah, it's not eating anything." He gets up and vaults onto the crate, where he sits cross-legged. "If I know Julian, it's 'keep Random away from me'. Is that close?"
Paige smiles and gives the crate a curious look before shaking her head, "Not exactly.
"I've got a bit more than a personal investment in the whole Dragon-Arcadia-thing, but I don't have enough of Julian's trust to take a more pro-active role in moving it toward resolution," she explains. "Understandable. He hasn't had decades to shape me into an atavistic, anthropophobic weapon. Setting that aside, unless you've found someone for the job, or someone better suited... I'd like to become your warden of the forest."
Random's face goes through several contortions, and eventually he says. "I hadn't really thought about it, seeing as how the forest didn't seem dangerous until you started finding bodies in it. So, I'm not saying no and I'm not saying yes, yet. Tell me how you'd go about being warden of Broceliande." Random pulls a cigarette from behind his ear. "Smoke?" he asks.
"I suppose that is an idea," Paige smiles, accepting the offer. "We could burn it to the nape of the earth. Doesn't seem to practical, though..."
Random strikes the edge of the cigarette along the rough crate, and it lights. He lights another for himself off the first and gives it to Paige. It smells of vanilla.
"I had intended to begin with Couth as my second and start recruiting what men I could from the city for cliffside service," she begins after a drag on the cigarette. "I'd want to work with Ash, so as to not impact his work force, but I wouldn't expect to be able to field real numbers immediately either.
"Roaming patrols until I can get most of it mapped and the current Paths documented," she continues. "Beyond that I'm open to suggestions. Julian's all about guarding Amber because the King told him to, even after his death. I'm about guarding my children from what would gain entrance through your mythic wood."
Paige looks at him soberly. "It means sacrifice on my part. Being involved in the local political scene isn't very practical if I'm going to become the goddess of the wood. It means less time with the very people I want to protect." She shrugs. "I'm not a Ranger, nor do I claim to be one, but your sons are busy with other matters, your Ruby Knight Commanders are far afield, Solange was focused on her father's legs and Brita, well... I've no clue where Brita is."
"I kinda figure I get the job just for asking," she finishes with a smirk.
"You are the first and only candidate, I'll admit that. Hmm. OK, so here's the plan. You get your shot at it. If it doesn't work, then we're no worse off. Start small, but plan to grow once your core is solid, never let a man named 'Razor Lick' be in charge of the horses, and pay my new Rangers well."
"Agreed, done, noted, and as you wish," Paige agreed.
Random looks up. "Oh, and the recruiting needs to be done in Amber, not here. They can bring families."
"I've a Trump that should get me and Couth back there quick enough. Any idea what sort of ships are still there or should I find a land route besides the caves that brought me here on my first visit?" she asks.
Random taps his fingers on the crate, rhythmically. "Round trip, I'd say. Bring a ship back, lead whatever's there to here? There's plenty of fleet to move, and most of it's taking multiple trips. We're what's in short supply."
"It's good to feel needed," she chuckles.
"Are you taking the kids, or leaving them here? If you're taking them, then don't go by land."
"I'm considering leaving them here, but I don't know," Paige admits. "I know his father has him manacled in the Infirmary, but he brings Finndo's side of the family too close, if you know what I mean."
"Julian thinks the Dragon can't see Jove because he's mad. He seems to be basing that on personal experience. If Julian's story about 'been there, done that' is true, it can't last too long, because no one missed him. Come to think of it, nevermind that."
Paige smiles as if to tell Random that he's preaching to the choir.
He looks up at Paige and raises his eyebrows. "If you restricted them to the family wing, would it stick?"
"Mostly, I'd think. I'll leave Van and Mace and between them and the nurses, I'll hope it will. Steal Martin or Folly's card of mine should it get out of hand."
"Didn't you leave one with me for our little collection? Either way, sure."
Paige stands and cocks her head to a side, looking beneath Random's dangling legs. "What is in the box anyway?"
"Either a stick that looks like a snake or a snake that looks like a stick. Either way I've no idea why we'd ship it from the Library." He looks up at her. "Hey, your arms are longer than mine..."
"My legs are too. What's your point?" she asks with a chuckle.
"The thing on the top of my head," he replies. "My point is that you could get the stick or the snake for me."
Paige crosses and peers deeper into the box, watching for movement before grabbing the stick near the back of it's "head"...
It's a stick. In fact, it's a short walking stick, carved with scales and a head shaped like a serpent. Random says "Aha!" and holds out his hand for it.
Hannah hunts down the King, 3 notebooks in her left hand. She greets him with a sympathetic smile. "I need to talk to you about a few things," she says.
Hannah finds Random sitting alone at a table on the balcony by the waterfalls. Random looks up at her. "One thing per notebook?" he asks. There are two place settings at the table, both look half finished.
Hannah laughs. "Actually, it is one thing per notebook. I left my other five notebooks in my room." Hannah sits and steals one of the unfinished plates, picking up a whole piece of bacon.
"One: If someone were to trump someone who wasn't family, or wasn't... uh... perhaps strong enough to be recognized as family, could that hurt that person? Because I thought from something someone said that it shouldn't even work."
Random gestures towards a seat and looks back at the kitchen. "More breakfast!" he cries. "They'll clean this up and get you something shortly."
Hannah glances at the food, and back and Random, and bites her lip.
Random stands and stretches, then sits next to the table, his feet crossed on another chair. "So, until about a year go, there weren't any other trumps, and the only person who could make them was Dworkin, the Mad Court Wizard. He did it and suddenly they were in everyone's deck. Anyone can use them, but they're likely to call a reasonably powerful person, and I include Flora in that group so take it for what it is.
"Anyway, that's the way it was, or so we all thought, unless we knew better and kept our redheaded traps shut. Then there was a war, and a crack, and a funeral, and there's children everywhere and some of them can make trumps, and Clarissa's oh-so-helpful chillins are telling people about how they work. Which means they're telling people what they want them to know, so it's possible that we don't know everything, and by 'we' I mean 'us', not 'them'.
"To make a long story short, I'll quote my son." Random grabs a bit of his hair. "'See this? Blond. Not red.' You need to ask someone who has an iota of information. Or Corwin, who will make something up. He calls it 'romance', I call it 'makin stuff up as a way to get in girl's clothes'. Not that he looks any good in girl's clothes. Pink is not his color."
Random uncrosses and crosses his legs again. "One down. Next notebook?"
"Sorry, we're not done with one yet. I don't know if you know about this, and you probably need to be aware of it. Lucas thinks Solace's fainting illnesses were 'attacks' made on her by way of an attempted trump contact. He thinks this because Merlin ruled out that it was sorcery. I didn't rule out that it was something physical, but we won't worry about that for right now. And - Lucas claims Brita said the same sort of pain happened to her father by way of a trump call, who may also carry some trace of the blood. So I'm telling the King this because someone may be attacking the family, or the family of the family, by these means," Hannah sighs.
"And he hadn't told Solace he thinks this, which I think is dangerous and needs remedying, but I have been quite busy. In fact, it seems likely everyone who might be family but who might not be strong enough for the family ritual needs to be forewarned and forearmed. Now that part likely includes redheaded help, then."
"Well, that's just peachy. I did not, in fact, know that. What do you think we should do about it?"
"I think we have to find someone who really understands how trump works, and either get everyone vulnerable trained in how to block it, or if they just cannot then try to find some thing that will block it for them. Is any redhead really as good for this as another?" Hannah asks dubiously.
"Sometimes I think that under any circumstances, any redhead is a surrogate for all redheads. Who knows? They may be completely interchangeable." Random shrugs, and spears a sausage with his knife.
"We probably can't identify everyone who might be vulnerable, especially considering that enough of my brothers and sisters are dead that there will be some loose ends somewhere. Who did he think made a trump of Solace? Because the trump maker would need to be someone at the castle, I think."
"Good Point. We didn't go down the trail of who. I'd like to think if he knew he'd talk to you about it, or at least do something about it himself," Hannah shrugs.
"I think we can only identify who we can identify, and that if we don't know about others, hopefully whoever is doing this doesn't know about them either. I'll talk to Paige, to start, since I hear she's here.
"Two. The forest. I'm going to go out in it and spirit walk. I won't be talked out of this, but I will compromise in the ways I can to make people more comfortable with it. What do I need to do for you to be comfortable with it?" she asks.
Random ticks off things on his fingers. "Lets see. Take a picnic basket, wear pigtails, promise not to tell any big bad wolves where you're going, don't eat the porridge, don't trust the kindly old apple woman, don't follow the rabbit down the hole, don't eat or drink anything given to you by Fair Folk inside their Fairy Mounds, and talk to Paige, she's going to be officially appointed Lorax for Xanadu next Proclamation Day.
"Oh, and I read a book once that suggested going into new places buck naked because it prevents you from being too sure of yourself, but I'll leave that one as a judgement call."
"Buck naked, I've heard that one before. You've got to wonder where expression like that comes from," Hannah grins. "I only wear pigtails when I plan on manipulating some stupid man, and can't promise anything else beside talking to the Lorax. What is a Lorax? And when I go talking to the land, am I going to be talking to you, anyway? Or is it not like that?"
Random shrugs. "First, a Lorax speaks for the trees. Or to the trees. In verse. They're usually on good terms with the birds and the fish, too. And the talking thing? Dunno, no one's gone talking to the land yet. I do know that even if I am the land, I can use that regioterrestrial unity to, for example, look up your skirt.
"Anyway, if you wanted to talk to me, you'd take up flying and talk to the air. My ideal state is not ground-bound." He grins.
Hannah just shakes her head and laughs. "Sometimes I think this place chose you for this job because you're distracted so easily, you'll never have time to dig down and really mess something up. Like I would. Flying, huh?" She looks concerned.
Random smiles, encouragingly. "I'll take you someday. Flying through shadow is just... amazing."
"Three," she smiles, "just to prove I'm not too distractable. And mostly this is curiosity... are you going to have a nobility kind of social system here, like I think there was in Amber, or are you planning something else, or do you have no plan?"
Random nods. "Yep, already sorta starting on it. It's a meritocracy, of sorts. Most nobility starts that way, but the Grand Fromage and all his generation pass and it becomes the ossified remains of your revered ancestors' meritocracy. I'm not going anywhere, so I'm not worried about that.
"Why, do you have a candidate for ennobling? I'll warn you, you do have to actually serve the King in some fashion. I didn't elevate the new Lord Mayor just because I like calling him "Lord Ash". He grins.
Ash's name makes her smile, yet again. "No, no one in mind yet. More of an idea of the process of giving most anyone a chance of getting there. But it's not easy, and it's complicated, and it would have to be changed to suit these people and this environment, and the way the city interacts with the royal family. But the first thing you'd have to do is toss the hereditary structure, and I'm not sure how you keep it for the throne and chuck it for everything else," she shrugs. "But then you don't even have to do work to keep it from ossifying. It's dynamic."
Random smiles. "I think Dad would've liked you. So, anyway, here's the deal. You and I and all our kinfolk are qualitatively different from people. You can take the inheritance in your blood, activated on the pattern, and create a shadow path that would enrich a noble house for a hundred generations. Our generations are so long that our eldest brother may well have seen those hundred generations pass. We're stronger than them, smarter than them (even if we don't always use it), and can survive things that should have killed anyone. If you've walked the pattern, no one can imprison you, no one can coerce you, and no one can deny you anything of your desire. We're our only competition.
"The people of Amber know this, they've known it for so many generations that they don't recall anything else. They may wish to marry us or have us as patrons, but they know they can't replace us. So don't worry about succession in Xanadu. It's not like it's not always going to be a crisis anyway." He taps his fingers on the table.
"Dad set things up so that most nobles were granted non-hereditary titles, with some few granted titles they could pass down. And he reserved the right to strip a family of title if he didn't like what they were doing. He did it, too. There's probably something in all those library crates that describes it.
"Here's the thing. Xanadu, and Amber before it, had to be spectacular cities of which all others were but shadow. That's not a casual description. And by "had to", I mean "had to". Kings make patterns, patterns make castles, castles require cities, cities require people. Therefore, it will. If someone didn't like the title they were given and left? Sad, but someone else would come here and succeed. " Random stretches his arms behind him, and looks across the breakfast table for something. He doesn't find it, whatever it is.
Hannah watches him, following his movements. "Kings make patterns?"
Random nods. "That's how you can tell. 'Is your King a genuine King and/or Queen? Check his and/or her basement for a Genuine Unicorn Brand Pattern. It's the only way to be sure.' My brother Corwin? He's modest, but he's a King in his own city of Paris. He should be referred to as Corky The Great, Rex Paramecium. His daughter should be styled 'The Dolphin'."
Hannah cracks up before she can help herself. "You're awful! But what happens if the King didn't make it? Like, say something horrible happened to you tomorrow, God Forbid, and Martin 'inherited' this one. Would it be here? Do patterns live past their creators? Would he be as connected a King?"
Random sits sideways over the arms of his chair and leans his head back. He smiles his craziest smile. "That's a trick question. I'm never gonna die."
Hannah rolls her eyes and sticks her tongue out at him, and desperately tries to suppress her smile. "You hope, oh great target of the almost truest earth. We all hope, because really, how much more can this family take? That's one question I honestly have no academic interest in seeing answered. All these things are being drawn here - won't your enemies be too, then?"
Random taps the arm of his chair. "Yeah, it's weird. On the one hand, I'm absolutely, positively sure that having a pattern means I can't die. On the other hand, Dad." Several different emotions play across his face. "Dad died for something bigger than Amber, but he knew he was gonna, according to people in a position to know. So maybe I can't die unless I choose to." Random's smile returns.
He waves his arm over the balcony, generally in the direction of Xanadu. "And anyway this place isn't gonna fit Martin. He'll have to draw his own pattern if he wants to be a King."
Hannah sighs. "I had a point, I really did. Something about building the society you want, not just ending up with the society you get. But this is much more interesting. So how many patterns are there now, do you figure? Folly and I were having a little discussion about that. I'm just wondering if we need some more."
"See, that's a conundrum. More patterns are more protection, but they make people immortal. We've got two new ones now. What if Corwin and I don't work out? What if we fight over the Jewel? How many bad neighbors do we get before the whole thing goes to hell and chaos?
He shrugs, twisting in his chair to do so. "So, there's mine, there's Paris, there's Rebma, which I don't understand, there's Tir, which I really don't understand, there's the Primal Pattern, which is Dworkin's and I really, really, don't understand. Oh, and there's the tiny one inside the Jewel, which is effin' ineffable." Random pauses. "You may want to find Jerod and talk to him if you're interested in the set. He's got a little project to walk them all for some reason, masochism, maybe."
Hannah's eyes go wide. "One is quite enough, thank you. Five and the Jewel..." She smiles. "That makes sense to me. Then my next question is, do we have definitive proof then that when one fails to... exist, like the one in Amber, the people who have walked that one don't lose their immortality? I mean, the fact that Gerard can still shift shadow is evidence, but not proof. I mean, why wouldn't they lose it? All of it? You're going to tell me to ask a redhead again, aren't you?"
She grins and then goes back to eating at she watches him.
"No, it's more like one leading to one leading to four. And the only proof of immortality is in the negative, as in 'it's a proven fact that the late Duke Borel wasn't all that immortal at all.' The shadows still lie for us, Caine is still his cranky old self, and I didn't instantly become a mature adult of 500 years. So, the proof is in the pudding, which is not," he says, sweeping his arm in the general direction of the table, "being served.
"And the redheaded thing? I hope you're making a list, cause yeah. Ask 'em about the whole 'immortal patterndude who dies' bit. And let me know if they say anything interesting about it."
"I'll do that, even if the precedent that sets scares me. So shall I talk to Ash about my great nation-building plans?" she asks with a grin.
"So, the nature of power here is that you're one of us, and so you don't have to answer to Ash, but Ash is one of mine, so you do have to not horrify him so much that he asks me to help deal with 'the Hannah Problem.' I'd say recruit him as a co-conspirator. He's a good guy, for a Lord."
"He seems pretty nice. I meant as a co-conspirator," she laughs, "but it's been awhile since I got to horrify someone enough to send them running for help. It's so fun! But I think the whole family would pile on me if I started calling for temperance, so, you know, one step at a time." Hannah winks at Random. "Oh, hey, did anything ever happen with this Huon fellow?"
Random says "Hold that thought., I may know in a minute..." He turns so that he's facing the falls. "Who calls?" Random nods, relaxing, then pauses for a while. "Yep ... that's not good ... Marius? I'd wondered where he was ... Signy? Yeah ... Yeah, that's the elephant in my pajamas, isn't it? OK, well keep on keeping me informed ... "
Random turns back to Hannah. "Huon is out there somewhere, has some firearms, and is probably going to Rebma. He's not the big bad news, which is that Dara grabbed Meg, who is apparently her daughter. Which we didn't guess, but could've."
Hannah looks thoughtful, and then nods, slowly. "I am too uninformed to ask a question that'll make quick sense of that one, and I've taken enough of your time. Thanks for indulging me, and the food."
With that, Hannah gets up to go.
Random waves a dismissal to her and watches as she walks away. Something strikes him and he pulls a quill out and begins writing on the tablecloth. If Hannah looks back, she would see the king frantically scribbling on the good linens.
Last modified: 7 July 2007