Widening Gyre

Raven gives the Pattern a good, hard look when they reach it; it's part skeptical - the floor is on fire, but clearly people have survived this - and part curiosity. After all, it's not something she's ever seen before, even if she's seen a lot of things she's never seen before in the last few years.

After a moment, she shucks her coat and starts rolling up her shirt-sleeves; as she does, she turns to Jerod and says, "Right. You got anything else I need to know here?"

"Just like I said before." Jerod says, taking the coat. "Don't stop, for anything. Don't quit, don't back down, don't give in. The stress of the walk may deceive your senses, don't trust them. Trust yourself, only yourself. That core that you are, find it, use it and be it."

Raven nods. "'Trust yourself and don't quit' ain't all that different from what they told me the first time I went up the rigging in a storm," she observes. "Also, 'don't fall off the boat; we won't come back for you.'" She snorts softly and shakes her head. "Less fire there, though. Suppose I'll meet you back at the ship, after?"

"That will be up to you." Jerod replies. "Keep in mind that once you are done the Walk, you will have the opportunity to go anywhere you want. And I literally mean anywhere. Be cautious with your thoughts and desires at that moment. You could find yourself on the other side of reality without even blinking."

Raven eyes him and then snorts. "Sorry, but do you actually think that after spending all that damn time trying to get back, that I want to get my arse dumped on the other side of reality? By myself, with nothing much in my pockets? I got more sense than that, thanks. Anyway, there's a job to do. Won't be the first time I slept something off on a ship on the way to making a point to someone that annoyed the Crown."

"Let's just say that freedom can be intoxicating and leave it at that." Jerod says with a slight smile. "Time to proceed."

"Aye, I suppose so." Raven squares her shoulders and takes a deep breath. Then she moves forward, to set foot on the Pattern.

Through the walk, Jerod will be watching from the sidelines.

Raven stands before a glowing line, tracing a pattern around the basement of this giant stone building. Deep underground, with Jerod near the beginning, it's like looking into a mirror and seeing your own ghost. Good thing sailors aren’t superstitious.

Raven quickly finds her rhythm, step after step after step. The pattern resists. It threw off sparks as she steps through it and it pushes back against her boot. The pressure isn't much, here, but it's clearly going to take some will power to keep moving forward.

It isn't, currently, any worse than walking on a rolling deck. Raven finds her mind wandering to the decks she’d walked in Amber's service for all these years.

"Many years. And yet, they're done, aren't they, Bosun. Or is it Captain now?" Admiral Caine steps along beside her, the rolling deck not disturbing his stride in the least. "I haven't been to sea since Dad died. Is that what you want? You should give up this dream and go back to being a Bosun. Give me your hand and I'll help you escape."

Raven notices that it's getting harder to stay on the pattern.

Well, it would certainly be simpler; Raven can't deny that. Following orders always was easier than giving them. But - "Bit late for that, isn't it, sir?" she asks. "I never figured, when I took over the Vale, that it was going to be anything but ill-fitting, going back to Bosun, and then all this happened. Can't say as how any of the rest of this was part of my dreams, but I can't go back and make it not so. And what captain is going to want to boss around a Bosun that's a Royal? Not anyone I'd want to work for, yourself and Admiral Gerard and any other Royals aside." She shakes her head, growing more certain as she speaks. "There's no going back. If that means I can't get out to sea as much as I like, I guess I'll deal with it. Can't help but think that some of that not getting out has to do with being Admiral, though, sir."

“No going back? Maybe, but is there anything worth going forward for? The Navy is full of younger princelings, we don’t need admirals or sea-lords, and no admiral will have you as Captain, so you’ll end up as either my pilot or Gerard’s. This varies between difficult and boring, and I was raised for it. You should just stop, before you get so swamped you can’t right your ship.”

The admiral stops, dead, in front of her, standing on the line, and across a particularly tricky spot.

"I know plenty about 'difficult and boring'," Raven answers. "It happens. Don't matter who you are or what you do, it happens. That ain't a reason. Besides, speaking of difficult... if nobody is going to want me, why'd you tell me I'd probably stay Captain before?" She shakes her head. "I'll figure something out; the sea's in my blood, and you ought to know as well as I do that she calls. I'd rather stay Navy, but if that ain't going to work... I'll figure it out. Maybe I'll get a ship of my own. Now, you should move, sir." She snorts. "Or be not really there and in my head so I can just walk through you. I'd go for that, too."

Caine chuckles. “Never assume that the voices in your head aren’t real, stripling, or that they’re gone when you can’t hear them. You express confidence very well, and will do so right until you break your keel on rocks you didn’t know were there.”

If Caine is still with her, he’s at least silent now. Raven continues stepping carefully along the bright red track on the ground. The resistance peaked sometime when Caine was talking, and the new equilibrium is harder than before. The sparks dance around Raven’s waist and the steps are now like crossing a deck in a bad storm. It's less a fear of missing a step than an effort to make a step at all.

The curves are like waves, and Raven finishes a major one, a curve that stretches for a large part of the pattern, and is working her way through a series of small delicate turns when she hears her mother’s voice.

“You dance like a girl, not a sailor. You’ve gone and gotten noticed by some powerful people who can settle matters for you regardless of what you want. Was that your intention?"

"Should have known it was too much to ask to be spared you here," Raven says, resigned. "I ain't dancing. And not all of that noticing was my fault. Some of it's yours by way of a strange woman sniffing me and a King that decided that meant something. No, it weren't what I had in mind, but it's not all that different than it was, is it? Wrong person finds out and takes offense, and I'm out and in trouble - don't matter if it's my Captain or my King."

“Yes, but now you’re in the game of Queens, not that of Captains, and you don’t even know who you are. Or why I’d take a risk and hide a daughter as a son. To be honest, I hadn’t expected the whole deception to last past puberty, but you were always strong-willed, by which I mean you always did the exact opposite of what I telled you.

She frowns, and suddenly looks older and, frankly, better. She looks like the successful innkeeper Raven found in Xanadu, not the one from Amber. “You could at least use my right accent when your subconscious talks for me, Raven. You’re just being lazy, and you never wanted to see past appearances. What’s more you get by by hoping everyone else is a lazy as you are.

“There’s things you need to know about who you are and where you came from, and if you don’t find out, you’ll be stepping off the stair sure as if you went to Tir with a storm comin’ in.

“Now, for once, listen to your mother and stop this nonsense, at least until we talk.” Her mother reaches out to take her hand.

Raven starts to reply and then snaps her mouth shut, locking away several responses that would have started yet another argument with her actual mother. And then several more. "You're right," she says finally. "I do the opposite of what you tell me. We're oil and water, aye? Known that for a long time. As for the rest - no. Knowing who I am and knowing where I come from, those ain't - " She scowls and very pointedly revises, "Aren't the same thing. I know who I am, and maybe it wouldn't fit right for anyone else, but it fits right for me. And it has precious little to do with where you came from and whatever you think I ought to know about that, since you couldn't be bothered to give me two words about any of it until you left Amber. And even then, 'two words' is maybe a bit generous for what you did say, aye? Fine, though, you want to talk - aye, we can talk. Or argue, more like. Or maybe I'll go talk to that brother you got all of a sudden. Later. All that, that's happening later. Right now, I'm going to keep doing exactly the opposite of what you just told me to do." She brushes the hand aside and keeps walking.

Her mother gets in front of her again, talking more rapidly, and with more of a Rebman accent than she ever had, or at least than she had while Raven was an adult.

“It’s not my business to keep you from being a Lir-damned fool, but I can try to keep you from being a dead fool. You’re trusting Jerod, girl. Jerod! The devil’s own grandson, he is. He’s the one telling you this is safe when it kills most all the Rebmans who walk it. There’s things you don’t know about yourself that if he knew, he’d gut you like a flounder, no questions asked.

“I don’t expect you to do what I say now, but if you were smart, you’d swim away and not look back, and maybe you’d live.”

Scarlett is directly in front of Raven now, and Raven can't move on except through her mother.

"Nope," Raven says. "One, I ain't trusting Jerod; I'm trusting that he does things for reasons. Not sure what else I think of him, but that part, I can trust as much as I can trust anything else about anybody else. If he's got reasons to dump me on this thing to die instead of just being efficient and putting a blade through me or dropping a rock on my head, I don't know about it." She snorts. "And if you do, you'd have done better to say that first. Two, I ain't Rebman. Even if you are - and I'm not sure I believe that, as many stories as you've told me - that means I'm at best only half. That's a good, solid at least half a chance to survive if this thing just hates Rebmans, ain't it? Better odds than I had when we were lost; I'll take 'em. Besides, I hear that 'most' you just said in there; most ain't all."

She levels a glare at Scarlett and keeps on course. "Move, Mother. You weren't any good at holding me back when I was little, and you ain't any better at it now, fancy new accent or not. You can do the swimming away. Or you can just stand there and I can walk right through you too."

“You’ll have to.” says Scarlet, crossing her arms. Raven will indeed have to stop to avoid walking into her mother.

Raven scowls, stakes her head, and keeps walking.

Scarlett stands her ground and Raven walks through it. She whispers one word in Raven’s ear as she passes. “Princess”. Even if anyone else were here to see, no one else could have heard it.

Raven steps through her mother and the woman goes away, but the word lingers. What did she mean? Who did she mean? What does it mean that she said it then, and if she was really just a figment of Raven’s imagination, how could she possibly know something Raven didn’t?

And that's something Raven resolves to chew over later. 'Princess' and 'Rebma' - well, that'd be a thing, for either of them. Of course, it could just be that even in her mind, her mother has to get in the last word and make it a dig.

Raven keeps moving. The Pattern’s sparks flew higher and the resistance became greater after each of these veils.

“Raven, Help!” Just off the pattern, just out of reach, Max lies in a crumpled heap. His eyes dart from left to right, looking for funnel clouds. “The next one is the killer! It knocked me off it. Oh, please help, it’s going to eat me!” He reaches his little hand towards her, just out of reach.

Raven says some things then that a lad his age should probably not hear - but also probably has heard, given where he grew up. But as much as she wants to stop and rescue him - and she does, she very badly wants to; even if it was just any kid, she would, but this one's special because he's her brother - she hasn't forgotten what she was told. This thing has rules. Breaking them is death.

She says grimly, "I can't. If you know you're going to die, you know why I can't. Ain't either of us could escape it if I did. You have to come to me, Max." And much as it pains her to do so, she keeps going.

Another intricate set of turns takes Raven away from Max and back towards him. This time he's within arms reach. He's still sitting on the ground, between the lines, but he's reaching up to her with one hand. "Save me, Raven!" He looks like he's been crying.

"Get up and come here," Raven answers, frustration coloring her voice. She holds out a hand towards him, hoping to catch him and drag him along if she has to, but she doesn't change course or stop walking. "Can't do much to save you if you don't help me do it, kiddo. You don't help, I can't come over there or I get killed too. Get up and come on."

“My feet are stuck!” He wobbles as he gets up, but he reaches up to Raven through the sparks.

In his other hand, behind his back, more or less, is Lucas’ pistol.

Raven's eyes narrow slightly. "What," she asks pointedly, "have you got there? And what do you think you're going to get up to with it out here? It ain't going to make this any easier." Her hand stays outstretched, but she still doesn't stop moving.

"If I don't live, promise me you'll kill the woman who killed my father." His free hand is within reach, but it won't be after Raven's next steps.

"No." There's frustration in Raven's voice, but no doubt. "I ain't getting involved in promising anybody that I'll kill someone for revenge. In battle, aye. In anger, when I got to. Because they deserved it, maybe. But not revenge. Especially not for you. You ain't old enough to know better, yet, but you'll learn it." She swears again, looking at his hand and the path ahead. "I'm sorry, Max. I want to save you, I do, but you've got to be in my head too. Ain't no more reason you'd be here than there was for our mother. You ain't going to die here."

And she drops her hand, gritting her teeth, and walks on.

He pulls the gun up and shakily points it at her. "Either you kill my Da's murderer, or I swear by Lir I'll shoot you down right here."

Raven blinks at that, and then shakes her head. "Shoot, then," she says. "You're too young to be asking for that kind of thing. You should be a kid still. Playing games. Getting into things Ma will tan your hide for when she finds out. Stealing food when you think she ain't looking, like I saw you do before. I ain't promising to kill someone that I don't even know who it is for someone that don't understand why that might be a problem. Life ain't that clean. 'Sides, not that I know much about those things, but I don't figure you're actually going to hit me with your hand shaking like that."

Max snaps his arm steady and Raven hears the click of the gun and the bang. She has a split second to react. She can hit the ground or take the bullet.

Raven grits her teeth and takes it. Not because she wants to - it's more because she's pretty sure that hitting the ground is a worse idea.

The bullet hits her shoulder, just as she's turning around a tricky part of the pattern. She doesn't feel it, and it doesn't leave an entrance wound. If it exits her body, she doesn't see it do so.

When she turns back around, Max is gone.

The pattern offers no respite, no relief and no rest. Raven must and trudge through, until she is doing nothing but focusing on moving forward, until she is nothing but focus. The Pattern is Raven's crucible, burning her away until all she can do is focus her will to get through the challenge.

It's almost a relief when she sees a figure ahead. Intellectually she knows this is yet another challenge from The Pattern and that there is risk in it, but at least it's different.

The woman ahead is so many things Raven isn't. She looks poised and elegant, immaculately dressed as a lady of the court. She has a manicure and a fan.

"Is it time at last for you to be me?" she says.

She has Raven's face.

Raven opens her mouth.

Pauses.

Shuts her mouth again and shakes her head, fighting down the impulse to laugh.

"You ain't fooling anyone in that getup," she says finally. "Specially not me. I ain't a lady."

The woman isn't laughing. She looks Raven up and down. "And you're only fooling yourself. You ain't a nobleman. If you're really going to live for thousands of years, your big secret won't last six months. And when it's gone, you can either keep up the act or learn what it is to be a woman. Cause you won't be allowed to lie to everyone and also be trusted by anyone. Nobody likes a fraud. Girl. Do it soon or do it later, and have to crawl back that much more deceit. Do you think Caine can't find out if he sets his mind to it? Random? Jerod?

"Be smart. You need me. You're not complete."

The path ahead runs through her.

"'Learn what it is to be a woman'?" Raven echoes, with a snort. "You're wearing too fancy a dress to be talking like that, girl. Aye, I figured out they're likely to know, sooner or later. But I ain't giving up the way I've lived all this time just because they might not approve. Ain't like this is new; you could say the same about the Navy, or anywhere else I spent my time."

Every step is agony and more difficult than the last. Raven continues only through sheer will.

The woman who looks like Raven stares at her with contempt. "Stakes are higher now, my dear. Huon was raised as a Prince and was exiled for 500 years. Ysabeau died in exile. Nobody knows if Solange will ever be allowed back. There's not a one of your cousins and aunts who doesn't do as she pleases, but you still think you have to lie to do so. You should just give up and die right now, because you're not strong enough to really do this. If you were, you wouldn't bother to lie. It starts with lying to yourself. You need to stop."

Raven's muscles and nerves all want to agree with her. Stopping would mean cessation of pain, at least.

Raven snorts again, and then smiles a smile that's more teeth than mirth. "Look, sweetheart," she says, "I ain't made a habit of giving up and dying, and I ain't about to start now. Sometimes it ain't about who's stronger. Sometimes it's about who's more bloody-minded. Not sure I can be more bloody-minded than a burning thing on a floor, but I can damned well try. For the other thing - ain't a lie to say I only know how to act like a man. Also ain't a lie to say that I ain't interested in being... well." She glares at the woman. "You. It ain't always comfortable, being me, but it's me. This family I got all of a sudden, they'll find out sooner or later, when I choose to tell them." She snorts again and adds, a little more thoughtfully, "Or when they figure it out, which - can't say I don't half suspect at least one of them won't, sooner or later. I mean, how else do you bring that up, girlie? Sit down to dinner and say, 'Please pass the bread, and by the way, I've got tits under my shirt and nothing in my pants'?"

She shrugs, moving directly onto the pattern before Raven. "You’d prefer to have Random announce it at dinner? He might even use the same turns of phrase. If you don't choose, you won't get to choose."

She may be wearing a ball gown, but she's still got Raven's face, and it's her stubbornest face that she sees. It's the face Raven argues with Scarlett from.

"What is wrong with you? You rebelled against every other stupid thing your mother shoved at you, but this is the one you internalized? The one that cripples you? You should've grown up decades ago. It’s not too late, but you’ve got to do it."

"Because," Raven snaps, her temper starting to fray - and her expression is a perfect mirror of her double. "I ain't crippled, and there ain't anything wrong with me. I made a choice. Couldn't do much as a woman, it seemed like - get married and make babies, maybe. Work like the girls did. Turn into Ma." She shakes her head sharply. "No. Those things ain't me. I wanted to go to sea, so I went to sea, and I had to stay in trousers to do it. So I did. Don't regret it." She hesitates and then snorts a laugh. "Well, almost all of it. One or two things I maybe should have not done. But I don't regret doing it as a man. Ain't anything some tarted-up version of me can say will make me regret that part. And I ain't doing some sort of butterfly thing, where I just wake up some day and put on a frilly dress and color my lips and shit. I get it that I'm going to have to tell them; you came outta my head, you think I don't know that? I'll tell them that need to know when I'm ready to tell them." She eyes the woman before her with annoyance and keeps walking. "Besides, Ma hates it now. Wouldn't be needling me about it if she didn't."

Her tone and annoyance seem to match Raven's note for note. "Yes, I'm in your head. I'm of your head, and I'm gobsmacked at your pigheadedness. You must be Gerard's child, you're too stubborn to be anyone else's." She doesn't seem particularly gobsmacked. "This is a crucible and you're insisting that your papier-m&acaret;ché persona isn't flammable.

"You can take a leap and transcend your self-imposed limits or you can commit to more lies and more trouble. Don't assume that just because you made a choice before when there were fewer options and you knew less that you did the right thing for all time. Live broadly or narrowly, that's your choice. Make it now."

She stands across the pattern, and Raven can either stop or walk through her.

"So, what - that's what you want?" Raven growls. "You think I don't know that there's no choice that's the right one forever? I ain't stupid, and you ought to know that better than most. And being not stupid, I'm pretty sure I ain't the only one with secrets that the person that has them ain't exactly hiring a herald to shout them out for everyone to hear, and I can't figure I'm the only one that doesn't want to share those secrets with folks they just met right out of the gate. So your demand that I just decide now and - what, hop off of this thing and go shout it from the top of Kolvir? That ain't happening. You're probably right that I'm going to have to tell 'em, and I ain't going to argue that with you. But I'm doing it my way, damn it, and there's no fake choices you can offer me that're going to change that."

She keeps walking.

She steps through the woman. As she steps through her, that more feminine voice says, quietly. "It's not too late. Yet."

Raven finds the resistance suddenly snaps and she nearly stumbles with the loss of it, but keeps her feet for the last three steps. She finds herself at the end, having completed the pattern-walk. She knows that she knows things, but Raven is too tired to sort out what's new at this point. Raven is thoroughly spent, and might fall to her knees.

She can make the pattern do things for her. She can have it carry her places. Anyplace. Any place she can imagine. It's too bad that she's too drained to imagine much. She feels as if she should go somewhere.

Raven takes a knee - not both, though, because in theory she can get up again. If she had to. Possibly. And then she swipes sweat off her face with shaking hands and takes a deep breath.

Right. Put the whole thing on the list of things she'd rather not do again if she doesn't have to. With prejudice, even.

And somewhere to go. Well, there's only one place you go when you're this tired, and that's to your damn bed. Good enough for hangovers and long watches and storms, good enough for this. And the damn bed is right now on the ship she came here from Amber in, so that's clearly where she wants to go. Ship, cabin, bed, sleep. In that order.

So that's what she imagines.

The door to the pattern chamber opens. Random strolls over to the Jerod’s position. He’s carrying a folding table, two chairs, and a basket that turns out to have a bottle of scotch and a couple of glasses in it.

“The second veil’s always the hard one,” he says by way of greeting.

Jerod nods, taking the table and setting it up (assuming his majesty passes it over).

"I usually found them all to be a serious pain the first time I did it." he says. "I vaguely recall Uncle Corwin's Pattern was somewhat testy on the third veil."

He sits once Random's taken his own seat. "I'm curious. This is yours." he says, nodding towards the Pattern. "What happens when we walk it? To you I mean?"

Random pours a glass for himself and passes the basket to Jerod. "Good question, and you're the first to ask, or at least the first to ask me. First of all," he says, and pulls on his short shock of hair, "this isn't red, so don't ask me math questions. I'm only a mathematical genius when it comes to music.

"Second of all, something, but it's hard to explain, because there's not really a vocabulary. So, I'm gonna be all wise old elder and turn the question around, and the point is to get us a common vocabulary."

Random clears his throat. "Ready? Ok..."

"What do you think happens to me when one of you walks the pattern?"

"Not sure." Jerod says. "I'll speculate but we'll keep in mind it's speculation fueled by lack of knowledge and the beginnings of decent scotch," as he pours himself a drink.

"Pattern is supposed to harden our reality, define who we are, at least according to Dad and Corwin. I've always thought it an inconsistency to say our reality hardens because that implies we don't change, and yet we would continue to learn and grow in strength. One might argue that our inherent self doesn't change but gets more real but I'd wonder if that's getting more into the metaphysical as opposed to the higher order mathematics the redheads favor.

"I've sometime thought perhaps that it sharpens our interaction with reality in some way, letting us become more aware of it. Like a lens you might say for people with bad eyesight. In a perfect reality, the lens is unnecessary. As you go further out, things blur, become harder to focus, to control. The more reality we carry around, the more we can focus it on our immediate surroundings. That's how we impose Order...we carry a limited vision, the ability to force what we want to see. Your version isn't limited...it's literal.

"That of course begs the question - where does that reality come from? Gotta come from somewhere. So does the walk strip away elements of chaotic influence within ourselves and sharpen the inherent sense of Order, thus allowing us to impose ourselves on reality. Or do we gain Order from the Pattern?

"In one case, we're sacrificing chaotic influence...which has to go somewhere. in the other, we're taking Order. If the Pattern is your version of a reality, then you're the one who would power it. That's a bit too simplistic though...I'd say more that you're the one that channels it, that the power is elsewhere. And because you channel it, if we walk the Pattern, then whatever process happens out there, you get affected by it as well. Whether you get chaotic influence, or you pass on Order, that I can't say.

"I'd also guess that regardless of the whole order/chaos deal, you get some sense of us. Memories maybe? Thoughts, intent, desires. A sense of their self. Would certainly explain why Oberon was able to keep at least a moderate level of control over his kids."

Random nods. "If you're worried that it lets me in your brain to rifle through the card catalog and pull things out, it's not really like that. Imagine that there's a giant ledger somewhere, and in it is written 'Jerod', along with a lot of other things.

"So when you walk the pattern, you're really tracing over your own name in the ledger, making it more distinct, more bold, more accurate. The pattern is really a misnomer. You're the pattern, and I'm the pen. Because that thing is in some ways me. And you're you, but just like how if you write on a piece of paper the grain of the paper may affect where your strokes start and stop, using my pattern has an effect on what your you looks like. And re-writing it in the ledger changes you a bit, because the ledger is the universe and when you re-write it you re-write yourself.

"This analogy is getting messy. But sometimes I do get images, mostly from pattern walks. Some people come through more clearly to me than others. The veils are where it happens. They're all metaphors for reinforcing the parts of you that are aligned with the pattern and getting you to metaphorically and explicitly reject the parts of yourself that are not compatible with the pattern.

"So, I hope that clears everything up. Does it?"

The king sticks his finger in his scotch and stirs the ice around with it.

Jerod looks out at the Pattern where Raven is walking for a moment, then back to Random. "If someone rejects a part of themselves that is incompatible with a pattern, but reinforces other parts that align, does that mean that all Patterns have the same alignment/rejection parameters? I'd assume not. Would that mean you could reject a pattern of yourself walking one Pattern, but then re-acquire it on another?"

Random waves out at the pattern. “I can’t really explain it. Maybe. Corwin certainly regained an image of himself, if that’s what you’re asking. But maybe not. Maybe it’s more like a river that you cross. The you is different and the universe is different, too. You never get as much reinforcement as the first time, so maybe there’s a law of diminishing marginal returns. It’s not like the Pattern Experiment Ethics Panel has cleared a lot of experimentation on the thing.

“Raven, for instance, is out there defining himself through his opposition to his mother. If that relationship gets better or worse, what was reinforced? Or did she just grow up and stop worrying about small stuff?

“Who knows? Maybe walking the pattern is a great rite of passage for us into adolescence, but what if it’s keeping us in this sort of perpetual arrested development?

“Some days, I wonder if we’re just part of the reproductive life cycle of patterns.”

The king frowns at his empty glass, and takes a slug of scotch, straight from the bottle, and offers it to Jerod. Suddenly, Random gets an odd look on his face for a moment, and then begins laughing uncontrollably. He might drop the scotch if Jerod doesn’t take it.

Jerod collects the bottle in a perfectly smooth movement and pours another dose into his glass. He looks at the Pattern for a moment while Random is laughing, noting Raven's progress and wondering what difficulty has been brought up now to face.

"Something amusing with our latest recruit?" Jerod asks once Random is done laughing.

The king suppresses a further bout of laughter. "Well, yes. But nothing I'm gonna share with you. In the first place, I'm well known for being easily amused, and you might not share my sense of humor, which would crush my fragile ego, and I'm not taking a chance on that. And in the second place nobody should have the dirty tricks of their own subconscious' attempts to sabotage them put on display like their life was a soap opera, at least not without getting royalties for it, and the crown is notoriously stingy with those.

"So, yeah, scenes with high emotion are most likely to bleed through, which tend to be what you face in the veils. Also different people are more share-y than others.

"Oh, and there is a change of Royal Policy, based on Reid's death. All pattern-capable children are allowed and encouraged to walk the pattern as soon as it's safe for them to do so, because they need the tools to deal with our enemies. Waiting a few decades is still a good idea, but it’s not a luxury we can afford if someone is out there who'll take samples from our dead.

"I will be sure to keep that in mind, should I come across any children that I might have...acquired...in my travels." Jerod says with a slight smile. "Have you determined a royal policy concerning how we're going to deal with those who take the samples?"

"Anyone's children. Don't hesitate to bring them in. This isn't a matter for playing games and keeping score." Random frowns. "As to the other thing, I don't know. Perhaps I'll let Brita chat with them. I'm in the royal recommendation-seeking phase of the decision making process." He looks out at Raven, now almost fully submerged in a fountain of sparks.

"Let me ask you three questions about it. First, what would be just? Second, what would be wise? Third, what would you do? And fourth, what do you want us to do?"

"Mmm...what would be just?" Jerod asks. "That depends on whom is being deemed as being offended by the actions of those who are offending. That would usually come down to how best to make sure said offence does not recur. That would also fit with what is wise...can we obtain a just solution that is beneficial to both offender and offendee. If it cannot be balanced, then usually, though not always, you lean towards the offendee as having greater priority. That holds if the means of obtaining the just solution doesn't cause further problems, like starting a war over one person's injury.

"That's the nice clinical answer though, and it doesn't usually work in real life." he says, before consuming half his drink.

"What would I do? I'd want to know what the monks are up to. Why are they collecting samples, who are they working with, what's their end goal? Destroying their outpost has simply made them slightly more aware we're displeased them but it won't stop them. They'll go to ground, pull the layers over them and keep working on whatever they are working on. They've been around for a long time and even Grandfather either couldn't, or chose not to try to get rid of them. He wasn't omnipotent, but he could've done some serious damage if he'd wanted to.

"And once I'd found out what I'd found, I'd be looking to see how to find a balance point. Are they are threat, or are they just scared of us and looking for a big stick to keep the bad wolf at bay? If they're a threat, how do I deal with them without getting killed and making sure they know they're going to pay way more than its worth to get what they're looking for.

"As for what I'd want Family to do? I'd rather not bury anymore of us, or have to find out someone had blood taken from them or cells, or worse. Gateway's about to find out the consequence of that behaviour...I'll be sure to leave something standing if its feasible and reasonable to do so, but that's a situation that's a last resort I don't want to keep seeing repeated. Salting the ground your enemies walked on has a real nice feel for vengeance but it gets you nowhere fast."

He pours himself another glass, having worked his way through the remaining contents. "Too many enemies cropping up from old days...and we need to keep together and stay focused."

Random nods, and turns his attention back to the pattern, a slightly worried look on his face. "You're right, and it ends up with the plate-spinner's dilemma. You can give your attention to the one that wobbles the most, but all the others get worse while you do it. At best it's a perfect balance of all of them equally bad. Sometimes you can't make an omelette without smashing a few plates, if only to get them out of the way.

"Caine thinks there’s a conspiracy of our enemies to distract and attack us now. I think certain paranoid-inclined people should lay off the drugs that cause paranoia in the so-inclined. It's just opportunism, like catching the flu while you've already got bronchitis. Or kicking someone while they’re down.

"That's what the lesson should show, but it's got to be properly directed, and it’s got to be clear."

Jerod nods once. "They've been studying us long enough to see how opportunistic we are. They're imitating us." he says.

"You still want Gateway to be next?"

Random nods. "Don't see a way around it, but I know you have interests there, so I'm going you a lot of leeway. If I sent Bleys, he wouldn't even go to Gateway. He'd manipulate shadow and shadow-paths so that some other, more pliable shadow took on the role of the natural bridge between Rebman and Amber trade, then cut off their shadow and let them fade into irrelevance. It's an elegant approach. Caine would study them, then assassinate the right people. Corwin would f**k 'em until they were on our side. Benedict would defeat them at war in a way they'd never recover from.

"We're spinning plates on sticks here. Your mandate is to make sure we don't have to go back to Gateway for a long time, and that nobody wants to try what they tried. We can't ignore it and let people think they can kidnap and bleed a son of Amber with impunity. So impunity is off the table.

"Once we set an example there, we'll have to deal with these priests. I suspect they're a bigger challenge. If you happen across any evidence that they're connected to the people who took Marius, it'll go on their tab for the reckoning."

Jerod nods but says nothing, filing away the details for future reference, noting how they fit with his own general plans. He smirks only once when Corwin is mentioned.

Random looks out at Raven. "She's got guns in her subconscious, I see."

An eyebrow goes up. "For or against?"

Random matches Jerod, eyebrow for eyebrow. "Both, my boy, both. It's like pain. Pain is the body's way of saying 'stop doing that'. It's for your own good, but it's not friendly." Random looks distracted "Put it this way. Gerard doesn't feel pain in his legs. That's the dangerous part."

Jerod looks out at the Pattern for a moment to observe Raven's presence, digesting both comments. The latter, for some reason that he can't quite focus on, disturbs him more than he thinks it should. He files it away for future reference.

Raven continues his path to the inevitable conclusion at the center. After he pops out, Random gets up. "Raven's left the castle, but not Xanadu. Probably sleeping it off. That was a doozy, I think." Random looks around the pattern chamber. "I wonder if I should put in a reviewing stand down here. Some height would make it easier to watch, don't you think? Anyway..."

"You probably can't leave until Raven wakes up. Take care of any last minute prep, goodbyes, etc. Then at last off to run that errand..."

Jerod remains silent as he considers where Raven is likely to go to "sleep it off" and decides a ship would be the most likely. He'll do some checking to find out where shortly.

"We'll be in touch your Majesty." he says, once Random is done.

Random nods. "Let me know if you need anything."

Jerod verifies what ships are in port to figure out where Raven is likely to be. This is mostly for curiousity as opposed to actual need. He also checks through the castle staff and the locals what family are in residence, who has come and gone (that would be publicly known of), the latest rumors and gossip, etc, etc, etc, plus hellos to family he can get to here, plus his significant other (assuming she's in residence and not off busy with something).

That will keep him occupied while Raven recovers. It also means Jerod will be out and about enough that once Raven recovers, it won't be hard to find him.