With a larger-than-usual sketch book under his arm, Ossian goes looking for Random.
Ossian finds the King easily. He's standing in the door to the chapel. Cambina's body is lying in state within. As Ossian approaches, Random says, without turning, "Hello, Ossian."
Ossian nods. "Hello. I have a proposal. If you are in the mood. And if Amber is still standing."
Random still doesn't turn. "I'd hate to think that Amber was lying down on the job, so that's out of the way. My mood is 'mercurial', so the odds are that whatever one you're looking for is one I've got, at least in parts."
He raises his arm and gestures towards Cambina's body. "We buried a few brothers and sisters, back in the day. Most before my time, admittedly. And who knows how many of my sibs grieved in silence for a child they had not told us of? No wonder we were cranky, as a group.
"It seems like we used to be immortal and now we keep having funerals."
Ossian swallows a comment.
Random turns to look at Ossian. "What do you have to propose?"
"I have an idea for Trumping a lot of people out of Amber. It will take a few months to complete." Ossian says "If you still want them here.
"A normal Trump or sketch is too small to let large numbers of people through, especially if they have luggage. I think I can make a larger one that will hold for a number of weeks at least."
Random nods, slowly. This is one of the few rooms with candles in it, and the light is softer than the electrics Ossian has seen throughout the palace. "Sounds like a fine idea. What part of it is risky enough that you decided to talk to me about it before proving or disproving your plan?"
"Well. A sketch that big can be used for other things. Taking a sizeable army through. And not only with handguns either. Other things too, I guess.
"And yeah. I need a warehouse somewhere here too. And a few months."
Random nods. "Right. Army, bad. So we guard it. We're mostly using those caves that pockmark the cliff face as warehouses, would one of those work? And can you make it one-way?"
"A cave would work if it is large enough. And has lighting. I want to build the interior myself. By hand." Ossian says "I know it sounds corny, but I need to know the place to paint it.
"Why would you want it one-way? Not that I intended to transport much from Xanadu to Amber. I would paint a sketch of the arrival room here, and take the sketch to Amber. The sketch would of course need an operator in Amber. Me I guess, to keep it working as long as possible."
[Random] looks at Ossian again. "Hey, did I ever get those trumps back from you? Do you still need them?"
Ossian brings out his Trump deck and finds Caine's Trump (Which is the one he borrowed). He hands it to Random face down. "Of course, I'd rather keep it. More than once I have been without good Trumps, despite being a painter."
"Huh," Random huhs. "You should have a deck. I don't have many, but I do have this one." He reaches into his beltpouch and pulls out a small, neatly-embroidered pouch and hands it to Ossian. The motif on the pouch is moons and stars.
[OOC: I guess Ossian can't make a one-way sketch? How would such a thing work, anyway?]
[OOC: Well, place trumps are one-way, now that I think about it. Random isn't much of an expert, so he's making sure. What he wants is a trump of Xanadu, not Amber.]
Ossian's eyes shine as he takes the pouch. "That's most generous." Then his voice changes. "Cambina's?" (which is not really a question)
Random nods. "She doesn't need it as much as you do."
"Thank you. You are far more trusting than I thought. Shall I start the Trump project? It will take a while."
Random smiles at this. "Sure. Two things. First, it's kind of a secret project. We don't want to stop people from coming here before it's done."
Ossian nods. "Of course. And second?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah, second. Yeah, there was one. How soon will you know if you can do it? Can we get it in place before the wedding?"
"I don't think anyone has done anything like this before. I simply don't know. Building the arrival room will take at least a month, as I have to do it myself. After that I think I will be able to make a guess." Ossian says. "When is the wedding?"
"Oh, I dunno. More than a month, I guess. What date could I tell you that would convince you to get started right away but wouldn't seem too ludicrously fast? Cause that's probably it."
Ossian grins. "Don't worry. I'll start immediately."
After allowing a day or two for rest, Conner sits down and pens the following note.
Majesty,I formally request an audience to discuss matters that have arisen during the Rebman conflict. I apologize for not elaborating further but these things are better discussed face to face.
With deepest respect,
Conner
It wasn't much for an hour's effort but for once Conner just could not find the right words and settles for the brevity. He flags down a page and has it sent off to Random.
A note comes back, with a single word upon it.
"Studio."
Conner smirks. Where else would Random hold court? Conner idly considers fetching his flute in case the King wishes to jam but decides it unlikely. Besides, his studio would probably have spare instruments for last minute sessions. Conner heads over to the studio forthwith.
The hallway approaching the studio is dark, and the dark, thick curtains on the wall and the slightly spongy floor all seem designed to eliminate noise.
The effect is spoiled by the open door onto the well-lit room and the sound of metal pounding on metal from within, interspersed with streams of rather inventive Thari curses.
From the doorway, it's clear to Conner that Random is building some sort of contraption out of metal bars. It's sweaty work, and he has his shirt off.
Ash is in one corner, apparently attempt to teach Gilt Winter how to play a musical instrument.
It's very loud in here. Conner will need to shout to be heard.
Conner strides over to the King and his contraption. If they notice him, Conner nods to Ash and Gilt but stays on target. Conner idly wonders what the King is building. If this were a concert venue his money would be on a lighting fixture of some sort. Getting closer, Conner braces a bar that Random seems determined to force into place. "Need a hand, your Kingship?" Conner asks.
"Yes!," Random moves Conner's hands into particular positions, and braces the bar against his diplomat-nephew's foot. "Steady on!", adds the King, who then pulls the bar so it bends just above Conner's hands.
"Almost... Crap!" The bar folds at Connner's hands, collapsing and losing structural integrity. Random lets it go before it flies away.
"Ash was right. That'll take a smith." He claps his hands together, clearing off dust. "Thank you, Conner. Now, you wanted to see me?"
Conner takes a moment to clean off his own hands. "Yes." Conner clears his throat. "I guess I'll come right to the point. After all of the events in Rebma, I have been offered a position in the new court that Khela is forming and I would like to accept her offer." Conner pauses a moment and looks Random more fully in the face. "I gave you my oath, Majesty and I have no intention of breaking that. I have come to ask if me being a vassal of both realms is acceptable to you." Conner greatly desires to say more but having laid the issue so plainly he waits to see Random's reaction.
Random wipes his brow and points to some very large cushions on the floor. He collapses onto one of them, cross-legged. "Ohh. Well, Martin is a Duck of Rebma and so's Jerod, and I once got accidentally knighted in Texorami for "services to music", so in theory, no.
"Normally, nobles with cross-allegiances are a problem when the nobles are called to war. They tend not to respond to either liege, or if they do, they don't fight very hard. Ask yourself what it would have meant if Clarissa has fought with or against us in Chaos. The other thing they do is send one son to fight for one side and another for the other. That's sorta sucky.
"Now, we don't envision a case where we'd go to war against Khela, but stranger things have happened.
"What would you do if I summoned you to war, and the orders were to attack Rebma?"
Conner drops onto a cushion by Random and considers the question. "I would try to talk you out of it," Conner said at last with his trademark smiles. "and the Rebmans for that matter. Both kingdoms get the greatest advocate and worker for peaceful relations out of this deal. Still, that's evading the question."
Conner ponders a moment longer. "It really depends on why the war is happening. Let me explain a little further my motives for accepting this post. I made a deal with Queen Khela. She got my services as a general, diplomat and all around useful person in exchange for the Pattern Blade of Rebma. Now from what everyone has been telling me, that would make me the Knight of Rebma and the Defender of her Pattern. At the moment, keeping the Pattern safe means putting a strong Queendom around it and so I support Khela. So if war breaks out I need to know if you march on her Pattern as a savior or a madman for I can see very little middle ground that would lead to such an eventuality." Conner chuckles lowly. "Is that a fair answer Majesty?"
"It is. However, when I was most recently taking the hospitality of Moire, Bleys was climbing Kolvir with Amber's patternblade in hand, so it's gotta be pretty complex."
"Indeed." Conner nods. "I plan to have a conversation with my Uncle on that very topic. Either there is no geas, or Bleys's gift of gab extends to steel." Conner grins slowly.
"I can just imagine a meeting of the talking swords' club. 'Brother Caliburn, we find you guilty of braggadocio. We sentence you to five years serving under Bleys!'"
Random flops back on his beanbag. "Now, you know what's going to be complicated about Rebma and Xanadu? Even more complicated than Martin?"
"Well the two major thoughts that spring to mind are the Huon situation and the myriad of issues that could arise with a Rebman Queen in Xanadu." Conner answers. "Also on the list are any lingering feelings still in Rebman circles about you and your past and the fact that all things Rebman seem to pass through Paris nowadays. So in short, just about everything." Conner grins once more. "What is uppermost in your mind, Majesty?"
"Martin is Moire's grandchild by her eldest daughter. He's my elder child, but he's male, and only of marriageable consequence in Rebman dynastic politics. Folly's little girl is a whole 'nother kettle of Triton-chow. Typical succession politics started occurring about 23 seconds after Khela's triumphal entry into the City. Assume Jerod's sisters and his mother are out of the line, and who's left?"
Random throws his legs over his head and somersaults out of his chair. "Beer?" he asks, walking towards an icebox.
"Please." Conner nods. "It would seem I am far behind on family news. I must remember to offer my congratulations to the happy couple." Conner smiles warmly at the thought then focuses back on the politics. "Yes, that would be a confusing twist to the family Moebius strip. Let's see. Llewella, who for the moment seems content to back her daughter's bid; Celina, who also backs Khela and seems tied up in Paris for the nonce, and Baby Girl Chance. It would make the child a target for every side especially until such time as Khela produces an heir of her own." Conner ponders that for a moment. "I don't see Martin or Folly wanting to groom a future Queen of Rebma so we are mainly worried about plots from below, yes?"
"Rebma is full of such, usually. And a regent during a Queen's minority would be very powerful. So, there's an advantage to myself and young Miss Chance if you're there to keep a watch to see that the people wearing scaly underpants don't get too rambunctious, and the advantages to Khela and You are both sorta obvious."
Conner nods. It is convenient that any such plots to put Martin's daughter on the throne are by definition plots against Khela. Conner can fulfill two oaths with one stone. A niggling voice warns of paranoid rulers who seek to eliminate all other contenders for the throne. Conner beats that voice down with a stick. Khela does not seem that paranoid or stupid. Any of her supporters that are will not be missed.
He hands a cold bottle to Conner. "You'll do fine. Khela is technically my vassal, since she's Llewella's daughter. Unless she wants to spend a lot of time in Xanadu, I'm unlikely to remind her of that."
"I suspect she'll have her hands too full for that however tempting cold beer and live music might be." Conner replies easily. He takes a drink from the bottle and nods his approval. "While we speak of things Rebman, how is Vialle?" Conner asks. "I've only heard third hand stories about her ordeal. Is she well?"
A shadow crosses Random's face, and is gone as quickly. "Her ordeal scared her, deeply. I fear it will take her longer to recover from that than any harm she took. We are ... humoring her wishes, which are mostly concerned with safety at this point." He smiles.
"She's seeing some of her old friends, but she doesn't want to overdo it. Send her a note if you wish to see her, and don't worry if she says no."
"I will do so." Conner nods. "Any ease I can bring to her I shall." Conner takes another pull from his bottle. "What is that you are trying to build by the way? I've been trying to figure it out and I keep coming up blank."
"Nothing complex. A frame for my drum-kit that's also a percussion instrument in itself, so that if I hit the frame, it plays like a steel drum. It was in Rebma that I got serious about percussion. It's not a place that's kind to strings." Random frowns slightly at the last, but it disappears as he concentrates on his beverage.
"Not the tangible ones anyhow." Conner agrees. "Otherwise, it is practically a web of ties and bindings. As above as it is below, I suppose." Conner sighs. "I guess I won't be playing my whistle much down there either. After the last few days, I fully appreciate the idea of beating something with a stick for recreation. Getting music out of it is a nice bonus."
"Rebma is funky, and not in the positive way. Some things work because people expect them to work. Some things are harder, so people work around them. Only magicians smoke in Rebma because it takes funky fire magic, but every house and tenement has a chimney."
Conner just blinks for a moment. That has never struck him before. Now that it was pointed out, Conner wonders how he never thought to question that.
"Rebma works like Amber worked and like Xanadu works--idiosyncratically. What's important is that it not forget that." Random smiles. "When we get recording working, I'll want to tape your whistle."
"I would like that." Conner smiles. "Thank you for the beer and the understanding, Majesty. Good luck getting the sound you want." Conner finishes off his beer and heads back to his rooms.
An immediate search for Jerod turns up a couple of things.
First, Jerod has been in the castle for a short while and has of late been busy with outfitting his new quarters. It seems that while he has visited Xanadu before, he never bothered to acquire family quarters before this time. He does not appear to have gone to any great trouble to acquire quarters that would be considered valuable in a social sense, such as being closer to the cliff face and natural lighting or even closer to the royal wing. But what they lack in status they would appear to make up for in space. Odd, since Jerod has never been know to be an artist nor had a private studio.
Second, Jerod is not immediately available that day. Perhaps that very attractive Rebma woman with the emerald green hair that has been seen around the castle in his company is once more conspiring to occupy his attention. Given how often she has been seen with him of late, it would not be surprising.
Thus it is not until the next day that Brita will manage to track him down. Mid-morning, outside the castle near the Prince Falls, a heavy blanket some 20 x 20 has been laid out and anchored. A circular archer's target mount has been set up on the opposite side of the river and Brita will note a large number of arrows occupy it's center.
If Jerod notices Brita's approach, he makes no overt sign of it as he sits upon the blanket, slightly off from the center. His attention seems to be upon a point in space, somewhere between himself and the target. He moves gracefully with a precision born of years of practice and a focus that comes from the strength of the offspring of Oberon. Each movement, the selecting of an arrow, the tapping of the tip on the ground before nocking, the slow raise and draw of the bow, encompasses a moment that seems to extend s a second of time that seems to encompass the moment, pushing out anything that could be considered a distraction. The buzz of insects or the flight of birds, the bright sunshine reflecting on the water, even the roar of the waterfall pales before the singular purpose of the moment.
The impact of the arrow could almost be an after-thought, finding space amongst its brethren at the center of the target. It is only then that the moment ends, the roar of the world returning from the background from where it had been driven. Jerod slowly places the bow upon the blanket to his left beside the sword and belt that sit there and looks toward his cousin, raising a hand in invitation to approach.
"Shield Bearer Jerod, I come to Discuss the Duel." Brita waves at the staked out blanket. "You Almost Look as if you Fight a Duel of One against some Inner Foe." She sits cross-legged in the grass next to the blanket.
"One might say that." Jerod replies. "My first teacher of martial skills asked me a question when I first met him. He asked who was my worst enemy. He then taught me what I am doing now.
"So Robin picked you, huh? I'm curious how familiar you are with the dueling etiquette of Amber." he says. "I would ask after your knowledge on this. Protocol demands that negotiations be attempted to resolve the issue, but unfamiliarity might grant me an unfair advantage. To use that advantage could be construed as dishonourable by Venesch."
Something about Jerod's comments would suggest that he is exceptionally aware of the protocol for dueling, down to the most granular of details.
"I am Familiar Enough to have Asked for What She would be Willing to Do to Meet His Terms and What she would be Request of Him. It is Similar to the Holm Ransom; although Here the Ransom can be paid Before if Both Parties agree - Preempting the Holmgang or Wager of Battle. Personally, I think it allows for More Civilization This Way."
Jerod nods once. "I've heard of it. There are certain foundational elements that remain consistent. At least an attempt can be made for individuals to be able to operate in a civil fashion, even if they don't actually like each other.
"Let us get this unpleasantness out of the way then. It has been some time since I've seen you and it would be good to catch up." he says, settling a bit in his kneeling position. "What is Robin prepared to offer?"
"She is Willing to Apologize for the Way she Handled the Situation with Captain Venesch. In Return, she Wishes him to Live and Stay in Service to the Crown and, if he is Willing, to Not be Labeled a Traitor."
Brita's eyes grow hard as ice as she continues, "She is Not a Traitor. She Acted to Try to Protect the Family from the Acadian Dragon - a Formidable Foe on which She is Well Versed. Uncle Huon was Removed from the Field of Play to Free her to Deal with the Larger Threat at the Time."
Brita's eyes become questioning. "I Understand the Dishonor of Losing a Prisoner - both for Captain Venesch and Cousin Robin - although Each has Mitigating circumstances that Lessen the Dishonor. I do Not Understand the Thought that Killing Himself restores His Honor. It seems like Tracking Down our Uncle would Do That more Productively."
"You would do well to remember that I was on the field against the Dragon and my recollection of those events is quite clear." Jerod replies, his tone firm though it is clear he does not agree with Brita's assessment. "I had hoped to simply conduct negotiations in order to avoid this duel, and not get into a tit-for-tat debate on the events that occurred. It serves no purpose other than to make hard feelings harder. However, since you appear to have chosen to bring up Robin's conduct as a defense in an effort to bolster for your negotiations, then I will bring up another viewpoint of which you are unaware, to provide a fuller perspective of the situation. If you are her friend, you would do well to listen.
"Robin's contribution was...limited." he says. "Given that Bleys was there, plus Brennan and two Pattern blades, one of which I was wielding, it is a fair assessment that we were in less danger than one might expect, assuming we kept our cool. Had Robin not been there, I am reasonably certain that the outcome of our survival would have been the same. If you disagree with my assessment, then you have but to avail yourself of your uncle's version of events. He has no love of me and will not adjust the truth to my benefit but I suspect his version and mine will bear a number of similarities on all key points. You may also check with Brennan. I'm sure his version will be similar, though I would wait until after the funeral so that his emotions may cool a bit.
"That Robin wanted to aid family against the Dragon is admirable. What is at hand however is that our means of escape from the Dragon was available for use, when Robin threw Huon through a trump connection back to Amber. Her error was in turning to fight, thus losing the connection and forcing us to engage in a battle that need not have been fought and doing much more damage within the Dragon's realm than was necessary in order to effect our escape. She chose to fight, a personal choice, without consideration of the larger picture and the benefits of subordinating her desire to act. Put simply, she wanted to fight. Not defend, but to fight.
"She also did not take into account that Huon was an obvious threat, though she could not have known he was a potential Pattern Breaker. Her prisoner was sent to Amber where Huon's powers would be fully usable, without instructions for the guards who would inevitably find him and where it was reasonably certain that no one would recognize him. Thus, while he might be detained in the dungeons it would hold him for no more than a few minutes. The result is that someone must be blamed for his escape, and we know who that was. Now Huon is free and he knows more about us. He has done considerable damage to my home and they are weakened for it. No one benefited from this except him and those who profit from the burial of the dead.
"As for Robin being labelled a traitor, consider that Venesch's version of the word is different from ours as is his usage. If it was seriously entertained that Robin was a traitor to Family, she'd already be dead or in a dungeon. Caine would have seen to that." Jerod says. "She should be careful around him for the time being. He is already suspicious of Huon's escape and it is not unreasonable to believe that Huon may have had inside help, given how much he appears to know about us. People who are nervous tend to look for the first available suspect, instead of digging deeper for the truth."
Throughout his comments, Jerod does not move from his kneeling position. Even his hands, normally in motion when he speaks, remain on his lap. His voice maintains a constant, firm tone, though there are a few moments where he reinforces the control in his voice. If he suspected that he might be faced with a situation where his control might be threatened, he appears to have prepared well for it.
"Now, that is my side, and by extension, Venesch's side." Jerod says. "Ask yourself, has it served any purpose in our negotiations, or has it just made things more difficult?"
"It Has served a Purpose, Cousin," Brita says with a small smile. "It has Given me Your Version of Events. I Doubt You or our Uncles or even Captain Venesch truly gave Cousin Robin an Opportunity to Give Her Version in Her Way." She sighs. "I Watched Cousin Daeon Burn for His Family. I Saw the Deep Green at Work in Heather Vale. Cousin Robin - ", Brita shakes her head a little. She looks around and waves a hand at the natural world in which they sit. "This is her Voice, her Thoughts, her Heart. It is Harder for One Not of Arden Forest to Understand than a Shark can Understand a Falcon. Both are Hunters; Both Warriors in Their Element, but their Methods are Different." She looks back at Jerod, "Does it Serve a Purpose? It Gives Us Two a Chance to Understand the Field, the Potential Combatants, to Try to Align the Falcon and the Shark such that they Understand Each other, if Possible."
Jerod nods once as she finishes. He does not say anything, though he does appear to accept what has been said. He notes a few of her points, fitting them into the original comments from Venesch, noting a point of mutual agreement.
"As to the Negotiations, What of Captain Venesh? What are His Conditions?"
"His first position is that he would want Robin to admit her error and apologize to him, in front of the King and the Court. Upon receiving this he would apologize for being overly hasty in his comments concerning her motives and that they might have been treasonous." Jerod says.
"I think we can both agree that's not going to happen? At least, not in front of the Court. I think Venesch is also cognizant that it will not occur either. It is a best case scenario.
"As a fall back, I would recommend your initial suggestion of Robin's apology to Venesch, privately of course, with a specific explanation of the circumstances to be provided to the King. The explanation would not have to be provided in public but would give a background for Random to understand why Venesch was not able to secure Huon. Caine's actions are not relevant to the situation even though he took advantage of it and the King will deal with that as he sees fit, if necessary. The explanation would enable Venesch to retain a position of confidence in the King's service and I think we both agree that having such is essential if one is to carry out their duty.
"The latter is not an unreasonable request I think, especially since we tend to keep Pattern secret. Venesch would have had no way of knowing to take extraordinary precautions. If we're going to keep secrets from the help, we can hardly expect them to act on something they know nothing about. If Venesch wishes to know the specifics, we can advise him that part of it covers a matter of state secrecy. In that case, we can secure a note from Random indicating as such, but without detailing the specifics."
"I do Not Necessarily see an Apology in front of the King and at least Family Court as Out of the Question; but Given Your Earlier Comments, I would have to Ask for Clarity on what She would be Apologizing For. She is Willing to Apologize for the Way she Handled the Situation with Captain Venesch when she Came Upon him Preparing to Regain Honor through Death. To be Clear - She is Not Apologizing for Actually Stopping the Death of a Valued Member of the Guard, but for the Method through which she Stopped It. In Addition, the Details on How Uncle Huon ended up in the Captain's Care without Explanation can Also be Provided."
"To clarify the error that Venesch refers to would be Robin's actions that he perceives as permitting Huon to come to Amber without adequate support for the guards, and by extension the Captain of the Guard, that would have permitted them to ensure Huon would not escape." Jerod says. "The apology would also include a statement on Robin's part concerning her failure to promptly admit said failing. The matter of how Robin went about preventing Venesch from acting concerning his perceived loss of honour could thus be considered as secondary and included in the apology for the...primary error?"
Jerod pauses for a moment and then smiles as he remembers something. "As an addendum, Venesch indicated that should Robin publicly indicate her intention to recapture the prisoner, he felt that would go a considerable distance in making amends for the King, and the interests of the King are Venesch's sole motivation."
Brita ponders for a bit and then says slowly "I do not Know if we can Work an Apology for Sending Uncle Huon without Adequate Support; as I Noted, I do Not Agree it was Entirely Cousin Robin's Fault. I will Need to Confer Again with Cousin Robin. We will be Asking My Brother for Help in Giving her the Correct Formal words to Say. Perhaps some Middle Ground can be Derived. As to Recapturing Uncle Huon, she may Just be Mad Enough to Attempt it. It is Interesting that I Thought Captain Venesch could have Pledged the Same Task to Regain his Honor rather than Trying to Kill Himself.
"Venesch would have a snowball's chance in hell of catching Huon. Offering to make the attempt would be of no value because it would have no chance of success, thus it would be a wasted gesture." Jerod responds. "He's old, not stupid. He fully recognizes that against Robin he doesn't stand a chance of winning. That's not what the duel is about."
Brita just says, "There are Ways." And then waits for Jerod to continue.
"For you. For me. Not for him." Jerod replies simply. "He is like my father, but he is not Family."
"There are Ways," Brita states again, "Through Me, Through You." She sighs and shakes her head, "Regardless, I will Discuss with Cousin Robin about the Apology. How Long until a Decision must be Rendered?"
"There is a reasonable amount of time permitted." Jerod says. "This is a matter of honour, not law. So long as the forms are met and the two sides either agree to terms that halt the duel, or follow-up on its execution, the time frame is not really relevant.
"Given that things are...in flux, perhaps after the funeral would be best for the duel, assuming a resolution is not forthcoming for both side before then?" Jerod offers.
"Agreed," Brita nods in emphasis. "I will Work towards a Resolution Sooner, however."
Brita goes quiet for a bit, but by her shifting positions, it is obvious that she has more to say. "Cousin." It seems like she is searching for words. She starts again, "Cousin, I created the Fountain for Cousin Daeon's Memorial and Wished...to do Something Similar for Cousin Cambina. For her, a Calm Pool seemed Most Representative but will Require some Initial Work to set up. Does that Meet with Your Approval?"
"My approval is not required." Jerod says immediately, then shakes his head once, twice. "But that's not the answer that's required.
"If you were her friend and wish to honour her memory, why would you ask for my approval?" he asks.
"I Ask Because you are Her Family and because what I Originally envisioned could have a Mirrored Surface," Brita dips her head to one side. "I Might be able to Fix it Differently if there was An Issue."
"I think that creating a fixed memorial structure with a mirror surface might be something you'd want to run past the King first." Jerod says. "I would not normally agree to it, given the potential for problems with Rebma and Moire. The King, of course, could have his own reasons for agreeing which would then supercede mine.
"I am curious as to what made you think of a calm pool for Cambina. It is not to say she would not have prospered beneath the waves, but it is not an image that I would normally have associated to her."
Brita nods, "I Will ask King Random as well. I Pictured a Calm Pool Not because of Mirror Rebma but because Cousin Cambina always seemed to Have More dwelling Underneath the Surface than she Showed the World. She had Much Depth that We did not See."
"That would be a fair assessment." Jerod replies, with a slight smile. "She reminds me..." and stops.
"She reminded me often of my other sisters, though she was not as publically aggressive as they are in trying to prove themselves. Not that she wasn't pursuing her own goals. She simply didn't seem interested in showing the rest of the world unless it was appropriate."
Brita smiles softly as she rises from her seated position. "I Have Duties to Perform. I will Return to you with Cousin Robin's Answer. Fare Well."
"As you wish." Jerod says.
After weighing the pros and cons, Conner finally sits himself down and pens a pair of notes.
Conner always felt vaguely uneasy writing a note to the blind. Partly it is the inappropriate nature of the medium but mostly it is because someone must read it to her and so the words must be carefully chosen.
To her Majesty, Queen Vialle,
It has been too long since we have had a chance to sit together and speak of things light and heavy as we did below the waves a lifetime ago. I happen to have brought back from Rebma a packet of your favorite salt tea. Perhaps we could share a cup together?
Yours in friendship,
Conner
The second note by comparison is easier.
To Carina, Archivist of Rebma,
I hope this missive finds you well after the varied travels that brought you to fair Xanadu. I was hoping that we might trade knowledge over a light meal at a time and place convenient to you. I am looking into various details of Rebma's past and would gladly trade knowledge of her present situation for them.
Sincerely,
Lord Conner
A reply to the first note comes back, written in the hand of Vialle's secretary Ember.
Dear Conner,
Your mother mentioned that you had returned from Rebma and I had hoped that you would have time to join me. I have missed speaking of my old home with you. I would love to see you tomorrow afternoon.
Vialle.
There is no immediate reply to the message to Carina.
At the appointed time, Conner presents himself at Vialle's chambers. He is dressed formally in greens and blues mostly. Vialle would not be able to see it of course but Vialle appreciated the proper protocols being followed and Conner would not disappoint. He has brought the promised salt tea as well as a scented candle that he was able to procure from the eclectic jumble that was available at the Xanadu dockside markets. He scratches at the door in Rebman fashion and waits for admittance.
Ember opens the door for Conner to allow him entrance. The room is dark and cool; Conner might almost describe it as damp, except that there isn't really any moisture. What light there is comes from the windows, which are curtained off enough to avoid direct sunlight. Conner imagines that they are warmer and seem drier that the rest of the room.
Vialle is seated in a low chair near the window, where the temperature gradient is changing. She comes to her feet as the door opens. She waits until she hears the sound of Conner's entry to speak. "Hello, Conner."
Her movements are a bit slower than they were during the Regency, and there are lines on her face that age her. But there is pleasure in her voice and her step as she approaches is steady, if not swift.
Conner crosses to her side and clasps her hands. "Good day to you, Majesty. It has been far too long." Conner releases one hand and draws forth the packet of salt tea and places it near Vialle's nose. "I hope Lir's Blessing is still your favorite blend. It was all I had to hand when I left."
Drawing in a breath of it, Vialle smiles. Her return clasp is gentle but there's still some strength in it, despite the coolness of her hands.
"With our direct links to Rebma broken, it's difficult to get any salt teas at all. The Duchess Valeria is in Xanadu, at the Rebman embassy, such as it is; she and I correspond and it's one of our regular topics. Perhaps if you're to spend time in Rebma, you can help to open a more regular trade. But you said we were to talk of light things; please, let's sit down and do so."
Ember is hovering in the background, waiting for a dismissal that will certainly happen in a moment if this visit continues to follow the usual form.
"I suspect, Majesty, that light topics may be hard to come by." Conner chuckles and offers Vialle his arm to escort her back to the chairs. "Still, let's have the tea and conversation flow where they may. How are you settling into Xanadu?" Conner inquires. "It is quite a different experience from Amber and Rebma both, is it not?"
Vialle makes a motion to Ember, who catches Conner's eye and nods before departing. The sounds are quiet to Conner, but undoubtedly quite audible to Vialle, especially the door that closes behind Ember.
"Very different. The lights do strange things to the heating of the room. Random says he's going to get me a clapper if I want one, but he didn't explain what that was." Vialle smiles, as if that's a private jest of some sort.
Conner does not fathom how the tongue of a bell would help and decides it must be a shadow reference that passed him by. "No doubt some new piece of technology that his Xanadu allows."
When Conner locates Vialle's chair for her, she does not need assistance to seat herself.
Conner looks about for the tea making things and a pleasant jangle of ceramic and metal ensues as he busies himself with the task. "It is odd to have a place of reality with electricity like this. It makes me curious which other physical laws are and are not in place. Would that I had the time to experiment but I think my time here will be too brief alas." Conner sighs. "Things were so much simpler in the lounge of the Embassy. Some days I miss it."
She follows the jangling sounds of teamaking with interest.
"There are things I miss about it, but others not at all. But that's the way it is, Conner." She smiles at him. "Some changes are for the better, others for the worse. Are you not freer now than you were when you served in Rebma? Isn't it pleasant to know your sister, and your cousins, and Paige's children? Isn't it better that your mother and uncle are no longer at odds with Amber?"
"True enough, Majesty." Conner agrees. "Brita alone is worth of the travails of recent years." Vialle can hear the wide smile in Conner's tone. "Leif and Brooke I worry about more than exult in truth be told." Conner adds as he pours the tea into the cups. "I still can't believe that they are teenagers when seemingly and perhaps literally weeks ago they were newborn babes and mine the first hands to hold them both." Conner hands Vialle her teacup. "Yes, I must make the time to see them while I am here." Conner decides.
"What of you, Majesty?" Conner asks. "How does it feel to be Queen of Amber and Xanadu?"
"Lonely, right now," Vialle confesses. "I'd like to be more among the people, but I am told that the city would be difficult for Gerard and his wheeled chair, and much more so for myself. But I have Corvis, Gerard's wife, for company, and the ladies of the court are starting to arrive in Xanadu and--perhaps, after everything, Solace will come to Xanadu and bring the children. I'd like that, and I'm sure Solace would find it peaceful here."
Conner looks doubtful at that. Xanadu is many things but peaceful isn't even in the top ten. Still, no need to go into that.
There's a wealth of diplomatically unspoken business in that sentence.
"But I'm sure as my health improves and I'm able to take up more of my duties again, everything will be different and I'll be too busy to be lonely."
"No doubt." Conner agrees. "All the more reason to treasure a quiet time like this." Conner takes a sip of his sea and places the cup back on the saucer with a pleasant clink. "But I think I have missed some family gossip. Did you just say Gerard's wife?" Conner asked. "Is this a recent development or has the past caught up with him?"
"This is Vere's mother," Vialle explains. "He had been reluctant to bring her to Amber, but there has been some difficulty in her home shadow, and she's been ill, so Gerard brought her here in hopes of an easy recovery. Her name is Corvis. I know she's been a great comfort to Gerard in all his recent troubles."
She takes a sip from her own cup. "Ah, the taste of Rebma. How I have missed it."
"Not quite the same without the surrounding waters cooling and flavoring of course." Conner remarks idly. "I never quite got used to those parties that traveled from room to room to get differing tastes to the drinks. Hopefully once things quiet down in Rebma, we can get trade routes started again. Though Paris at a guess depending on the Gateway situation." Conner sips his tea again. "There I go drifting into heavy topics again. Would you hear of things in Rebma, Majesty? Or have you already heard?"
"I have heard many things, not all of which I'm sure I believe. It's not that my sources are liars; it's just that some of the things I've heard beggar belief." She shifts in her chair slightly, cocking her head in a way that seems calculated to give her the best angle to listen to Conner. "Tell me your story, if you will."
Conner stalls a moment with another sip of tea. He must not forget that Vialle was a Lady of the Royal Bedchamber and member of Moire's court. Conner sighs. The tale he must tell may mean no more quiet teas between them. Nothing to be done about that now of course. Conner places his teacup down and clears his throat.
"I can only imagine what it seemed like from inside Rebma looking out." Conner begins softly. "With little warning it found two armies at its gates. The first was raised by Huon of the Horn made up of men from far off shadows and aided with magics and technologies gathered from those places. The second army was raised by Khela, Llewella's daughter. She had found the Paxblade, the sword of Cneve and rallied the Tritons and the Seaward Shells to her banner. Then came the news that Queen Moire had fled the city to seek asylum in Paris. Princess Llewella was the only royal remaining in the city to coordinate its defense. Accordingly, mother and daughter came together and joined forces against Huon. By this time, Jerod had returned to Rebma and took command of the city's forces. I commanded the forces of Khela. We outnumbered Huon's forces by a good margin yet he came on none the less. We suspected a trick but not what he actually did." Conner pauses and downs his tea.
"Just before the battle started, Brennan arrived with a story of following a creature of Chaos to the battlefield and he joined us against Huon as he searched for his foe. Huon rode forth to parley. Brennan, Khela and I went out to meet him. He delivered an ultimatum. Give to him the Pattern Blade of Rebma or he would detonate a blood bomb over the Pattern of Rebma and condemn all that lived there to death by drowning. By sorcery, we confirmed that his threat was true and in the end decided it was less risky to try and stop him than to trust his word that he would withdraw after obtaining the sword.
"We pooled our talents at sorcery and manged just barely to send Brennan to the Pattern chamber to deal with Huon's blood construct." Conner states. "Huon ordered his troops to attack and rushed at Khela to claim the Paxblade. Khela, Jerod and I fought him for a time. Then I withdrew to see to the wider battle around us. Khela, Jerod, and Huon all disappeared in a rainbow Trump flash. What happened to them after is not my tale though it ended with the sword reclaimed and Huon escaping. In Rebma, our armies soon routed Huon's for without their commander they were lost. Yet the victory was bittersweet. Before the battle began in earnest, Rebma was struck by a seaquake. The pattern of damage matched that of the Sundering though much less severe in its scope. Rebma's and Khela's armies marched into the city in triumph and with Moire fled, Khela moves to have herself crowned Queen." Conner reaches out and pours himself a second cup of tea and adds a healthy splash of brandy from a hip flask. "How does that match what your sources have told you?"
A blind woman doesn't learn to hide her expressions the way a sighted woman does. Her reactions are obvious to Conner: disappointment, concern, horror, somewhat leavened by relief.
When she speaks, after composing herself, Vialle says, "I hadn't heard so many details, but what I did hear matches your tale. How badly were you injured? What of Llewella?"
"I escaped with a few bruises only." Conner assures her. "I exhausted myself to the point where I still don't feel rested but that's all. Llewella is fine as well. She coordinated things inside the city and stayed off the front lines. I know Loreena is well. She was in Khela's camp under light parole last I saw her. I'm afraid I know little about the rest of the court. Things had not settled down for a proper head count when I left to come for the funerals. Is there anyone you would like me to ask after when I return? I would be happy to pass any messages." Conner offers.
"I will think on it; there will be word to be sent, but I don't know entirely what to say to any of them just yet. My love and best wishes to all, regardless, but--I must speak with Random. You understand." Vialle sighs softly, sagging a little under the burden of being the Queen and the politicking that entails.
"I do Majesty." Conner nods. "The words of a friend are not the words of a Queen and it is often unclear who is speaking if you aren't careful."
"I worry that you've involved yourself in this, Conner. I know you can talk your way out of anything, but this sort of war is more dangerous, even, than the troubles you saw in Rebma during the war in Amber. I won't try to dissuade you from your allegiance, but Khela is a whirlpool. Make sure your faith in her is well-placed, and that she won't leave you struggling in a riptide."
Conner nods but adds a positive "Mmmmm," for Vialle to her. "Point well taken, Majesty. You never can tell when an alliance made for convenience will cease to be." Conner idly adds a drizzle of honey into his salt tea. "What do you know of Khela that merits a warning? I have heard versions of her story but from biased viewpoints."
Vialle takes a sip of her tea. She sets it down in her own lap, to the extent that balancing it on her knee and keeping one hand wrapped around the cup counts as as setting it down. "I cannot count myself as unbiased toward her, and could not have even before recent events. I remember her of old, from when she was at court as a young woman. She's been a trial to Llewella all her life. I assume you know about her Libertist, republican politics?"
"Only in the general." Conner replies. "Largely, her name would be mentioned as a warning to someone going too far, there would be nervous laughter and then a change of subject. I would hear the full story if you would tell it."
"I hardly know the full story, but I will tell you what I know. Khela doesn't believe that the Tritons unbound would be a threat to Rebma as the legends say. She was young and full of her power--" and Vialle's expression suggests Khela still is "--and she believed that by agitation, she could induce Moire to give up her rule over them. She drew many young women and men to her. Martin was one of them, and he still bears grudges over his error."
Vialle's face saddens slightly at the thought of her stepson's mistaken grievances.
"In time, Moire sent one of her men to infiltrate the group. I was a Lady of the Bedchamber by then, and I heard some of the evidence. Khela hoped to destroy the monarchy and replace it with a republic, one where she felt sure she would lead." Vialle smiles wryly. "You know the secrets of the Patterns, and how impossible what she hoped for, may still hope for, is. There will always be a Queen in Rebma, one present or in waiting.
"But she was called to account. One of the members of her circle thought better of what she proposed, and before she could come to Moire, Khela had her murdered. The Coldstream Guard swept down on the group. They were tried in camera and many were executed. Because of his rank, Martin was spared. Llewella pleaded for Khela's life and instead of prison, Khela was sent into exile. By Moire's rede, she was forbidden to return to Rebma, ever, on pain of death."
Vialle finishes her story: "A few years later, Martin took the Pattern against Moire's command, and fled Rebma. The rest of his story, and presumably the rest of Khela's, you know."
"A Republic of Rebma." Conner chuckles. "It does have a nice alliteration to it but as you say, Pattern Realms do not work that way. Khela would seem to have learned that much." Conner muses. "I agree with your reservations about the Tritons. I've seen the kind of beings they are metaphysically speaking. I think those in Rebma have been too tightly bound but I would know far more before I loose their shackles if ever." Conner reaches for his teacup then places it back down on his saucer. "Did I tell you that one of Tritons came to me and claimed that he had a vision, sent to him by the Mother Dragon, about me? He claimed that he saw me bearing the Pattern Blade of Rebma surrounded by flames. Generally, I dismiss any reading of the future as too vague to worry about but it seems fitting to brood on the oracular while we sit vigil for Cambina. I wish she was here to consult with."
Conner does drink his tea this time. "No, I know to fear the Tritons as the powerful beings that they are. I hope to be a balance to Khela on that front until I know more."
"That much at least is a relief," Vialle says, her tone matching her words. "Someone must keep Khela in check, if her intentions are still the same. But--a Triton prophecy? Spoken to you? I don't think I've ever heard of them speaking to anyone before. Certainly none outside the royal family."
"It is an odd sensation that I am getting used to." Conner replies. "Khela brought in Tritons from outside the city that have been bound by a code of silence and those that have served the Royal family of Rebma who choose to join Khela also begin to speak. The significance of this concerns me. It signifies a loosening of restrictions to be sure. It makes me wonder what other rules the Tritons no longer feel bound by. You lived around Tritons at court for many a year, Majesty. How would you describe the rules surrounding them? What strictures were they bound by?"
Vialle considers this question for a moment, taking a sip of her salt tea as she considers her memories of those days at court. "I wasn't in a position to know how they were governed, other than by the commands of the Queen and her family. Strictures--few of them were allowed weapons, if any, as I understand things. But a triton hardly needs a trident or a spear to wreak havoc on most women, or men."
"I remember." Conner raises a hand to his jaw to soothe an echo of pain. "What about their lack of speech? Was it ever explained to you why they kept mute?"
"No, it was just a custom of long standing." It is the place where a sighted person would shake her head in the negative, but of course Vialle does not.
Conner makes a negative sounding hum. "Well, I am at last better positioned to seek my answers than ever before. Provided of course that I am able to speak with Rebma's archivist currently in exile here under Jerod's protection and affection if what I've heard is true." Conner observes. He reaches out out and freshens Vialle's tea. "Thank you for this moment of quiet, Majesty. It is a gift I hope we have the chance to share again soon."
Brita leaves Jerod and heads back to the Palace seeking out a page to determine where the King might be before heading off to find Robin.
She will ask the King for his permission to make a well - potentially up on the plateau. The well would have had a natural surround (rocks pilled around the 'rim' to make it look like a small, deep pool). She then would have called forth the water to fill the well and keep it fresh; the influx and outflux of water would be deep in the well, though, so the top remains clear and still.
Yep! Random's easy. Stay back from the edge, of course. Wouldn't want to undermine the cliff over our heads.
Last modified: 25 April 2010