IntersectionsInRealTimeIndex (Continued from The Time Meddlers.) Returned to the real world, free of delving memories and trump calls to the past, Ederyn is alone in his quarters, except for Nasirpal, for a moment. The latter waits a half minute before speaking. During the pause, Ederyn leans back in the chair and gives a very deep sigh. Well, that explains a lot about you, and about your visit to the Queen, Nasirpal comments. You've been Fae-bound for a long, long time, Ederyn. But thanks to the walk you made, you are free, of that at least. And perhaps passing bound to another. As I am. Ja, he acknowledges wearily. He feels wrung out and bruised, emotionally speaking, and without anger or tension to keep him going, all he wants to do now is catch up on that rest he promised himself. Distantly, Ederyn can hear that Noys must have just returned to the apartment, but has not yet come to check up on him. There is an almost studied and practiced space-giving here, rather than premature intrusion. He heaves himself to his feet and finishes changing into his sleeping clothes, hanging the good suit in the closet along the way, and tidying up his newly expanded collection of Trumps. Ederyn hears Noys busy herself about but she does not approach Ederyn's door at any point. With the light turned off, he looks out the window for a few more moments. Not at the city, now, but at the dark unguessable distances beyond. With these Pattern imprints, he can leave any time he wants, walk off into the teeming unknown shadows to see whatever there is to see out there. If he was the sort of man to abandon responsibility. If he believed the tasks he's undertaken are too much to bear. Amused at that last thought, he turns the windows to their most opaque setting and finds his way to the bed. Establishing a tap to the Earth here feels a little odd, with all the metal and concrete and glass in the building around and under this room, but he does it. With that slight help, he should be back to his usual strength by morning - or perhaps somewhat past his normal waking time. He reviews his mental defenses as usual and then drops off to sleep, intending to stay asleep until he really is fully rested. With a tap to the Earth, and his recent experience with the fire Pattern, Ederyn's dreams are uniformly volcanic. Volcanoes erupt, belching smoke, ash and fire. Ederyn sees himself standing athwart a flow of lava at one point at a shore, the lava pouring into the ocean, turning fire and water into Earth, expanding his Estate. And, finally, a shining pair of dragon's eyes, rimmed with fire and heat. When Ederyn awakes, the sun is shining into the bedroom, long past dawn. He feels refreshed, refilled, and revitalized, only with that feeling one has when first waking, and that is quickly dissipating with each passing moment. Ederyn's door, is now ajar and through the open doorway, he can smell food cooking. Some sort of savory, spicy meat,fragrant enough to make his stomach react in response. He turns and stretches, lazily, making plans for the day that extend only as far as a shower (he definitely approves of showers), clothing, and a substantial breakfast. After that, well - he doesn't have to go back to Amber right away, after all; the convenience of hurried-up worlds like Locus Minerva has become very clear to him. There are several things he could do with another day or two here. Deciding which ones can be left till later. "Good morning, Nasirpal," he says cheerfully. "Ederyn," Nasirpal says. "Good Morning. You appear to be much haler than you've been since our experience at the Fire Pattern. Perhaps unburdening yourself to Sand and Delwin had a salutary effect." "Having enough rest makes a large difference," Ederyn replies. Before long, then, Ederyn presents himself to his sister. He's chosen to wear local clothing, dark blue denim trousers and a red T-shirt; the Mote on its chain is tucked into a pocket of the trousers. "Good morning," he says with a smile. Noys is wearing black jeans, and a red shirt, with a silver choker around her neck. She looks relieved and happy as Ederyn enters the kitchen, turning from the stove where she is poking at something cooking in a skillet. "I wondered how long it was going to be before you roused yourself. My thoughts were sliding into concern, brother." She turns around briefly to poke at the skillet with a spatula, setting off another cloud of fragrant steam. "I'm sorry," he says. "I only wanted to have all the rest I needed. Which I did get." He picks up the teapot and pours himself a cup. "Breakfast burritos are just about ready," Noys says. "I'm going to guess you are starving at this point." "I'm very hungry," he agrees, eying the skillet, and then goes to the refrigerator. "I still have a lot to tell you," he says, retrieving a muskmelon and a package of blueberries. "And plenty of energy for it, now." "All right," Noys says. "Go ahead," she encourages Ederyn. While he speaks, Ederyn works on preparing the fruit. "I have not told you very much about the Fae and me," he says. "I think the reasons will be clear as I go along. In Norwend, we call them the Alfár, and there are many stories about them. And not all of them old stories." He carefully slices the melon in half. "My wife's death was the blow that shattered me," he continues. "After some time of wandering, I heard of the Lady of the Oak as a seer of the Alfár, who might be able to tell me how to find my father. That was the idea that had kept me alive for some time: finding a way to Amber. I really believe, Noys, that if the Lady had turned me away then, I would have lain down and died. But she took me in, gave me all that I might have wanted, if I'd had the heart to want anything ..." Ederyn can hear a quiet, brief catch in Noys' breathing at his talk of death. He pours blueberries into one of the cavities of the melon halves. "And, yes, enchanted me very thoroughly. It must be a habit with their kind, because it was hardly necessary, except perhaps to dull the pain enough that I could bear it." He puts the fruit, in bowls, on the table, and regards his sister soberly. "I suppose I would be with her still, except her Court traveled to visit another. That's where I got real training with my elemental affinities, but it is also where a man named Jayson happened to see me." "J...Jayson?" Noys, turns, surprise on her face. She nearly drops the plate with the burritos in her surprise. "Sand's son Jayson?" She works her jaw. "Fae again." Ederyn nods. "Somehow he arranged for me to go away with him. I didn't want to go, but of course I could not refuse my Lady anything ... and Sand lied when we spoke to her, Noys. I met her long ago, and Delwin too." A soft curse on Noys' lips is drowned out. He sits down and takes one of the burritos onto his plate. "They wouldn't send me to Amber, because it was too dangerous. I guess they were probably right about that. From what they said, this was when you were a baby. And they wouldn't keep me in Corilaine, because that would anger Eric. And they wouldn't let me stay with the Lady, because of, of family dignity, I suppose." He has cut up his food with somewhat unnecessary vigor, and now he stares at it, his expression dark. "Their 'solution' was to return me to Norwend with no memory of them, and even no memory of the Lady. That's the thing I really cannot forgive ... they took her enchantments off me, and then didn't respect the fact that it made no difference to me. They made her turn me out, and broke my heart for me again." Noys says nothing, concern in her eyes, listening carefully, food ignored. "Not that I remembered this before last night," he adds, and sighs. "I held on to a little memory of her, despite their sorcery, but I wound up thinking that I had quarreled with her and left of my own will. That's what I've thought all this time, when I thought of it at all - I've felt an aversion to thinking about that time, and now I know why that is. And they still don't know," he adds, pointing to Noys with his fork, "that even after that, she still helped me. I've always known that my father came from 'Amber,' and I'm sure I would have tried again to find a way there. From what you've taught me, chances are that I could have traveled through Shadow, when I had my wits properly about me. And perhaps wandered into the middle of the wars. Or into Brand's hands. Or Corwin's. She prevented that, with a small and subtle enchantment against thinking of looking for Amber. She must have foreseen trouble for me if I left Norwend." Noys blinks her eyes, thoughtful for a moment. Her hands start working of their own volition, fussing with the burrito on her plate. A piece cut out of it, she moves it around and lifts it. She sets it down, finally, uneaten. Ederyn, moved by what is likely a much greater hunger, starts to eat his burrito while he listens for her response. "When I was a baby," Noys says. "This was toward the end of Dad's Inter-regal rule, before he crowned himself. Dad, Julian and Gerard arrayed against the Redheads. Corwin still lost and people looking for him. Benedict, Flora in shadow. Llewella in Rebma. Dangerous times. The older cousins of ours were already on sides. "I don't fault their analysis ... completely," Noys says, her voice quivering. "If you had left Norwend, you'd have been spotted, used. But, greffet, Dad could have protected you. The Twins could have done it. Gladly. Take you to Antioch, foster you there. Sand and Delwin kept you ignorant and shut away for no good reason. They had better options than to shut you away. Did they ever intend for you to find out, to escape Norwend? I know Sand has manipulated people before--Dulcinea, for instance, is her meddling. Its small comfort that this is not new to them." The grip on her fork, though, is close to bending it. Ederyn hastily finishes a last mouthful of food and reaches over to place one hand over hers. "Noys, it is - well, not 'all right.' I also am sorry, and angry, that I never met our father. That I was not permitted to meet you, and the twins, and those friendly uncles years ago. That Sand and Delwin believed they knew everything they needed to know. But we have to put it behind us, and live without letting the past have too much power over our present." "Past having power over the present is a story of Amber," Noys says. She doesn't move away or flinch from Ederyn's hand, though. It takes a moment for her to meet Ederyn's eyes. "I could have grown up with you around. You could have helped in the War. Unicorn, you would have been wonderful to have around ..." She pauses. "After Dad died and most of the Family went to Chaos for a decade and left Gerard and a few others around to run things and keep it all together. You never got to meet Dad. That's the real tragedy, brother." "It's not fair, but I guess it is nowhere written that it must be," Noys says. "Nowhere that I know of," Ederyn agrees. He gives her hand a pat and sits back again, and eats a blueberry while eying her a bit warily. "I was more upset last night," Ederyn finally says. "And I needed to sleep. So I Trumped Sand again." Noys drops her fork as punctuation and she stares silently at Ederyn. "I had Nasirpal with me," he points out, "and my recovered memories say that their actions then were not malicious. Anyway, they apologized. At least, Delwin apologized, and Sand did not contradict him." He starts scooping out some melon, observing her reaction to that. "I didn't quite realize you to be the daredevil, brother," Noys says. "I wouldn't have tried to get an apology out of those two, or contacted them. Why would you do this? The cost of this knowledge could have been frightfully high." "I didn't ask for an apology," Ederyn replies. "Delwin just offered it. From what they said, they are reconsidering their habits about things. And from what they said the first time, they know secrets like your existence when you were a great secret, which does not seem to have harmed you." "Luckily," Noys says. Ederyn sighs and shrugs. "Any road, when I called them I had two goals: one, to soothe myself by ..." He rummages through his vocabulary for a moment. "Giving them a piece of my mind," he decides. "Two, to make sure they know that I'm not quite angry enough to consider them my enemies. Or not exactly. It seemed obvious that it would not be long before they knew I'd walked the Pattern. Better to make our positions clear, I thought, than to blunder around with them not knowing whether I am a threat to them." "And there is also - because it seems nothing can be simple around me - that while I was talking to Sand, the new cousin they found somewhere pushed into the call." "New cousin," Noys says. "Pushed into the call. Someone not listed in the family trees you learned?" "Right," he says. "Her name is Max. And she refused to say who her parent is, which is certainly a problem. Though Sand and Delwin say it isn't Brand, at least." "What they say has happened is that Benedict also wants Sand and Delwin to help with the war. They decided to scry for someone to do the helping - what kind of scrying, I know not. The result was a Trump of Max, but it is a Trump that has not been made yet. They brought Max to Corilaine, and Delwin has been teaching her Trump skills. Before this, she has been a member of the Amber Marines for some years. They believe, of course, that a Pattern imprint is also necessary for her to be useful. They tried, I think, to convince me to offer to introduce her, but I wasn't having that. We agreed," and he gives her his 'I know you're not going to like this' look, "to an exchange of favors." Noys listens patiently. "I will try to suggest that Random meet her and allow her to walk the Pattern, and Sand will stop forbidding the Lady of the Oak to speak with me, and will support me in negotiating with the Queen of Air and Darkness about Nasirpal if both of those happen. Whether Random will, what is that phrase, 'go for it,' I don't know. I don't like her very much, myself, but we do need as much help with the Omphalos as we can find. But neither favor that I asked for is extremely important." He finishes with a shrug. Noys sits back a moment,. her expression skepticism, surprise, and thoughtfulness. "Sand and Delwin scryed and came up with a trump not made yet. That, brother, sounds like a weird incident from the War. It probably wasn't in your history, but Benedict briefly had an arm from the future. That was grandfather's doing and I don't think anyone knows how that was managed." "A child of the family, not Brand's, but not one they are willing to say. A soldier in the Marines. A mystery trump from the future." She shakes her head. "A lot to swallow, Random has had a lot of new relatives pop up in the last few weeks. Having one having been in the Marines all this time ... wait, has she been in the Marines secretly as a family member all this time? " She frowns. "That's a high wire act if I ever heard one." "Fifteen years," Ederyn says around another mouthful of food. "I think she was last in Menius." "Menuis," Noys says. "Golden Circle member. Amber often has troops there, especially during tense times. But I don't know about this bargain of yours, brother," Noys says. "You clearly need to learn better negotiating skills, for one thing." A trace of a smile comes upon her lips. His eyes are amused. "That was more about the principle," he says. "And remember," he adds, "I don't play for the most I can get, but for what I want." "Clearly," Noys says. "There's more, if you think you can stand it," Ederyn says, and takes a drink of tea. "Go ahead, brother," she looks at her breakfast, pokes at it, and then looks up at Ederyn. "Yesterday," Ederyn begins, then pauses. "The morning I walked the Patterns," he starts over, "I met Dulcinea at breakfast. She complained that she is not being given anything useful to do. I convinced her not to go on with her plan to ride alone into Arden to see whether Julian's Rangers where doing what they are supposed to be doing, but not, as far as I could tell, to ask anyone for advice on how to get something useful to do. This worries me, because I've seen too many people - well, boys - get themselves killed because of thinking like that. So I asked Vialle to suggest to Random that something be found for her to do. Unfortunately, her idea that she thought of was that Dulcinea should go with me off to the war." He stares glumly at his fruit. "I can only hope that Random thinks this idea is as bad as I think it is." "Dulcinea is relatively young, and the daughter of a King AND a Queen," Noys says after a moment. "And she was groomed to be Jayson's consort. No, I don't think Random could keep her from the conflict if she wanted to go, save by locking her in the dungeon. Having you as her minder might be a lesser of several evils." "Maybe." Noys looks pensive. "I don't see why it has to be you, except maybe her Majesty fixed on you as someone similarly new to Amber, or someone capable of protecting Dulcinea." "Or someone who happened to stand up and point out the problem," Ederyn sighs. At this point, Ederyn has demolished all his food and eyed the refrigerator speculatively. But instead of foraging, he draws the Mote out of his pocket and lays it on the table. "So. Plans," he says. "I had intended to go directly back to Amber - well, I did do that. Briefly." He shakes his head at himself and carries on. "Now, I think it is important to master this before we go back to our usual flow of time. Can I go up to the top of that cliff to work on it?" He waves in the cliff's general direction. "Or can we, I should say, because I'll surely need someone to watch over me. Probably for several days, if not more." "I'd not leave you here alone if you intend to do that," Noys says. "I'll change the flow of time as needed, although the clock is still ticking." "Perhaps I'll have a better idea of how long it will take, later today," Ederyn replies. "And also ..." he stirs the silver chain with one finger. "I'm afraid I really prefer the gold that came with it," he says, "and I want to make it into a setting worthy of the Mote." Noys' expression quibbles slightly in disappointment. Since Ederyn is looking at the chain, or possibly at one of the ideas he has for a setting, he fails to notice and goes on without pause. "But I am imagining things that need techniques beyond my experience. Is there, in this 'high-tech' city, still such a thing as a man who makes jewelry by hand?" Noys snorts. "In a high tech city, the most expensive things are not the ones that can be created by three-d printers, molecular assembly and nanotechnology, but it is the items that require or encourage personalization, individual craftsmanship and deep skill. It sounds like you want a hand in the design..." She calls into the air and starts querying the computer verbally. Three minutes later, she has narrowed the choice to Plimpton and Daughters, a high-end hand-crafted jewelry creator with a boutique store in the city center. Samples of their previous work (all of it custom made) hang in the air like holograms. "I think they will do for your needs." She says. "Better than I did, anyway." Catching something in her tone, he leaves off examining the samples and studies her for a moment. "I'm sorry," he says. "You wanted to do something for me - in addition to looking after my unconscious self, insisting that I go ahead with that 'reading' thing, introducing me to the delightfulness of ice cream and mathematics ... truly, Noys, I am always remembering the things you have done for me." He smiles, all his attention focused on reassuring her that his great regard for her is based on far more than a single bauble. "Yes," Noys says, sighing slightly. "We've decades to go to build and work on our relationship," she concedes. "To forge it new and bright." "Now," he says, "this Plimpton - and Daughters - should do well. Perhaps this afternoon? And I'm ready to begin studying the Mote whenever you are ready." "I'll make an appointment now, give you some time to study it, we'll go and see the Plimptons this afternoon, and go forth the next few days," Noys says. "You're going to grind yourself down a bit on this, so I'll make sure you don't overdo it. "With ice cream, as necessary," she adds. He grins at that, then sobers somewhat. "I don't want to exhaust myself again," he says. "If it takes more days this way, so be it. I will rely on you to keep me being sensible. And Nasirpal, also." And so, a while later, he and Noys (and Nasirpal) are atop the cliff overlooking the city. Ederyn didn't care much for the monorail ride, as usual, or the glass-walled elevator that carries tourists up to this area, but with his feet on solid ground and the wind in his hair, his equilibrium returns. The mass of charged stone beneath him offers both an anchor and a source of strength more direct than he usually has access to. He hopes that the combination will help accelerate what he expects to be a difficult process. Noys has organized ingenious folding chairs and a picnic lunch for afterward (including some ice cream in a cooler). At her suggestion - which he fully approves - they set themselves up in a grove of trees away from the cliff's edge, where curious passers-by are less likely. Ensconced in one of the comfortable chairs, Ederyn takes the Mote in hand and speaks aloud, to keep Noys apprised of what he's doing. "Nasirpal," he says, "I'm going to try to attach or include you in my link to the stone below us. That may make it easier for you to reach me if this goes on too long." "I am inscribed with the Pattern, now," Nasirpal sends. "You may not have been able to do this as well...before you walked the Fire Pattern." With that, he smiles once more at his sister, and begins. Ederyn's first instinct, to plunge himself into another walk again, turns out to be a false path. It's not that he can't immerse himself again in that changing, variable, multisided Pattern again in that same way, but it doesn't feel the same and Ederyn feels like drawing back and meditating upon the design itself. Studying it, analyzing it, memorizing it, internalizing it. Like a particularly difficult text, Ederyn's examination of it is not easy, but it slowly pays dividends. Like understanding a particularly difficult bit of metawork, and seeing how it is, and how it is to be made, Ederyn's knowledge grows with the Pattern. Given the right tool...Ederyn might make things with pieces of the Pattern, using the Mote, someday. For now, though, he feels like he is one third done with this iteration of exploration, and that at the end of it, he could consider himself fully attuned to the Mote. What that means is still not clear, but perhaps will with further meditation. Nasirpal's insistance that Ederyn break from the contemplation first comes as a buzzing in his ears, without words. It is finally when Nasirpal's words become comprehensible that the spell is broken. Ederyn's head feels like, as Lorius called it, a "cubic mile of cotton." But with his closed eyes, the image of the shifting Pattern in the Mote is still in his eyes. "Three hours and twenty minutes," Noys says, looking up as Ederyn comes to himself. She sets down a tablet computer. "Time for lunch. Or, perhaps an analgesic, first?" she enquires. "Mmnn," he says, rubbing his face with his free hand. "You are very wise." After the analgesic, and a long drink of "sweet tea" to go with it, he's more able and willing to talk - though also ravenously hungry again. "It's hard to explain," he says around bites of sandwich. "It seems I have to learn it in a way that simply walking a Pattern doesn't require. Once I've done that - well, I don't yet know what I'll be able to do with it right away. Perhaps something like changing or manipulating things more directly than the Pattern alone allows. "But I think, if all goes well, that learning it might take only two more sessions. Then maybe some practice would be a good idea. But it doesn't seem as difficult as I feared." "I am curious as to what one can *do* with a Pattern object like the Mote," Noys says. "So is Lorius. I talked to him while you were engaged. He is engaged in things of his own but I could see him bouncing up and down at the news. He also advised you get a lot of rest between these bouts." Ederyn chuckles at the thought of his cousin's excitement. After lunch, including a leisurely round of ice cream to finish, and definite promises to not do anything taxing until the next day, he's ready to meet Plimpton (and Daughters). Plimpton and Daughters, turns out to be as advertised, a small high-end jewelry crafting outfit in downtown Locus Minerva. After introductions to the head of the shop, Margaery Plimpton, Ederyn is sent to meet her eldest daughter, Nimais the designer he is actually going to work with. He looks around at the display cases with interest. His step falters, just slightly, when he learns that "Plimpton" is also a woman, but he gamely pretends that this isn't a novel idea for him. "Greetings, Prince Ederyn," the blond haired Nimais (as blond as any woman in Norwend) says, regarding Ederyn from her workbench. "The Princess, and Mother, tell me that you like a hands on approach to designing jewelry, that you have some skills in crafting yourself?" "Ja," he says matter-of-factly. "You could say that." He approaches the workbench, hefting the fencing bag that Noys loaned him for this. "I only have two things with me that I have made," he says, taking his hand-sized belt buckle (belt still attached, since it doesn't fit through modern belt loops) out of the bag's external pocket and offering it to her. The back of it is steel, with two rings attached for the belt to go through; the front is covered with gold in a sinuous abstract design, all the openings filled with brightly colored enamel. Though it is made to a very high standard of craftsmanship, the style and concepts are undeniably primitive. Nimais takes the belt buckle and examines it with her eyes, her fingers running along the design, the edges. She even gently scores her nails against the metal before returning it with a nod. "Then there is this," he says, unzipping the bag to reveal the gilded and gold hilt of his sword. Like the belt buckle, it is beautifully executed, yet relatively unsophisticated in concept. "In the place I am come from, there is very little technology. And very little change." The designer repeats the process as she studied the belt buckle. He shrugs, and tries a small smile. "But now I am wanting to make a necklace to be a setting for a stone, and you have here ideas for any number of ways to do this that I've never thought of or seen, I am sure. It will be faster, and better, I think, to work with one who knows these things already. Oh, and it is to be made out of this." From another pocket of the bag, he produces the long, heavy, and simple chain of brilliant dragon gold. "This is not ordinary gold, is it?" she says, handing it, and looking at it curiously "Some sort of unusual alloy? Its not 24 carat, but this gold is not typical gold. It's not rose gold, at least it doesn't look like it. Not white gold, either..." She looks up. "I'd love to take a sample of this and do a mass spectral analysis. I may have to ask for a small sample, anyway, to understand its properties." "Where did you get it?" Nimais's eyes gleam. Ederyn grins, then immediately looks apologetic. "A dragon gave it to me. I don't know if he made it, or if - someone else did." "A dragon." Her voice wavers with a tone of disbelief. "I've heard stories of the Princess and the Prince." She regards Ederyn speculatively. "About what alloy it might be," he reflects, "it had not occurred to me to find out." "So why don't..." He takes the chain in his hands again and studies it, picking out the 'atomic structure' of gold and trying to work out what else might be in there, and in what proportions. Ederyn's skill and feel for metals and the Earth comes to mind as he handles the chain. His perceptions are grounded in the chain, and as such he is only vaguely aware of Nimais's furrowed eyebrows and confused expression. The components of the gold come to mind relatively quickly. Gold. Copper. Silver. And then there is something else in there. Some sort of metal or fruit of the Earth that he most definitely does not recognize. For purposes of working, although Ederyn was not trained as a whitesmith as much as a blacksmith, the dragon gold can be treated as Rose gold for purposes of working it. That strange small addition in the alloy doesn't seem to affect the alloy's properties for working. Or so he thinks. There is something arcane, eldritch and ancient to that part of the gold, imbuing the chain with same. "Ederyn," Nimais says. "Ederyn." "Mmm?" he says vaguely, then comes back into focus on her. "I'm sorry, I become distracted too easily sometimes." He is still distracted, really, memorizing the details of the substance in case he runs across it again. But he hefts the chain slightly and continues, "I think we can use it like rose gold. It has both copper and silver, but also a little of something else - something arcane that I don't recognize. I don't know how that would react to destructive testing." "I know how to work rose gold. It's come into fashion again, white was all the rage lately, but now Mother practically can't give white gold away." She looks at the chain. "We could take a small amount of the chain and do what I had intended to do--subject it to mass spectral analysis, determine its properties without your, um, special abilities." "It wouldn't take long," she adds reassuringly. "We're trained in the science of precious metals and jewels as much as art, here." Ederyn looks dubious. "If you're sure you want to try it," he says, and pinches off a small amount of the gold, forming it into a bead that he carefully drops into her palm. Nimais blinks a moment. "I've seen and experienced the wonders of our city everyday. And the stories of your family, well, who hasn't read the Manga or the novels? I don't follow the tabloids though," she says. "Nor do I have a picture of your sister hanging on my wall." "But to see you so casually manipulate things as you do," Nimais continues. "is quite a different thing. Come on." "You people use tame lightning all the time," Ederyn says, following along. "Even for art and decoration, and think nothing of it." Nimais takes Ederyn to a rather large device, the size of several refrigerators, thrumming with magical energy. She puts the bead of dragon gold in a small glass dish and places it in the device and works some controls. the machine starts to hum, louder and louder. Displays show readouts and needles moving from green and low to red and high, sometimes swinging dangerously. Nimais studies these readouts carefully, staring at them, even as the numbers don't seem to mean much to Ederyn. Fortunately for Ederyn, Nimais and Locus Minerva, the machine does not explode. It finally stops humming and comes to a quiet stop. Nimais calmly takes the dish out of the device and returns the gold to Ederyn before heading to a print and reading the results avidly. He returns the bead to the chain, waiting patiently for the machine's verdict. "It's gold, copper and silver for the most part. My analysis can't determine just what the remainder is, it does not appear to be a known element. It's the source of the metal's arcane properties, you did realize this was magically charged somehow, right? I don't recognize the magic that charges this gold, although it manifests somewhat as a component in the alloy itself." "If you knew this magic, you could do far more with it than making a piece ..." Her eyes light up. "You're looking to make a focus device, aren't you? That's what this is really about." She bites her lip. "I'm ... not in trouble for being too curious about this, am I? My mother would be distraught to lose your account." Ederyn looks puzzled. "How can you help me if you don't know what I'm trying to do? In fact, I hadn't thought of making a focus. I don't know enough about the stone, yet, or about this magic ..." He runs the chain through his hands, considering possibilities. "It would certainly be interesting to try, however." It's not as if he's never figured out how to work with a new-to-him material, after all. And maybe - yes, almost certainly - he can now remember all that the svartalfar taught him, instead of just believing that he did. He drags his attention back to the present before he can be absorbed by delving into his own memories. "But there is still the matter of the design, the possibilities of shape and of linking pieces together. I am thinking of a motif involving flames, or perhaps a dragon, or both. And not the styles that seem to be popular here and now," he concludes, nodding toward the showroom. "But something that says an image of 'barbaric splendor.'" "Barbaric splendor." Nimais snorts undelicately. "We'll have to talk to my Mother once done. Barbaric splendor sounds a little declasse. Instead, we'll talk it up as "a return to basic, powerful primal forms." Ederyn shrugs; he doesn't care how the jewelers phrase it for their 'marketing.' "This won't," she waves a hand. "Actually change our design process, mind. Just its perception. Come on, Ederyn. We've learned as much as we can with the analysis. I can now introduce you to the tools of the trade and we can talk designs and concepts." "Good," he says. The next week is just packed for Ederyn. Design work at Plimpton and Daughters, a continual refinement of ideas, concepts, drawings, mockups, and finally whitesmithing with Nimais. The Mote takes a lot of his other energy. What can one *do* with an attunement to a fragment of a Primal object? By the end of the week, Ederyn might not have all of the terminology and vocabulary that Lorius and Noys do, but he's got a sense of what the Mote might be for, what it could be for. It's an icon of Order, and could be used to make things, locales, perhaps entire worlds more orderly, more in line with the power and the design lines of the Mote. An object of repair, restoration, rectification. It would take experimentation to really figure out how to actually go about this. The Dragon gold, experimenting with small amounts of it again, show that it IS magically resonant, and could be used as a focus device, if it were shaped to that purpose. The design Ederyn has in mind might not quite suit...but another amount of the same material could definitely be worked. The energies (and its sort of like exploring the nature of the Earth) within the gold need to be channeled and amplified into classic forms that do that. After some internal debate, he decides that a separate focus item - something that is not a display piece - makes sense, since he has the material available. It's not like moving the Mote from one to the other would be difficult for him. He decides to put it in the form of a bracelet to wear on his left forearm. Its base is actually titanium, alloyed with a little of the gold for color, and with the necessary shapes and forms overlaid with the gold. The result is simple, meant for work rather than decoration, but attractive in its own way. The rest of the time, Noys forcefully makes him unwind every night, to the point that the movie entertainments she selects are uniformly entertaining but nothing entirely too taxing. Action and adventure movies that are more spectacle than anything else are the rule of the day. There's a lot of home cooking and ordering in as well. Just what *Noys* is doing all day when Ederyn is working the Mote or its gold is something she elides, talking about "Making plans for Uncle Benedict's War" and leaving it at that. Finally, with the week done, the design is complete and executed. It holds the Mote perfectly in its 'barbaric splendor'. At Ederyn's insistence, they do NOT put out any copies for sale just yet, lest Noys see it inadvertently in advance. "Thank you again," he tells Nimais, and shakes her hand. The necklace is nestled on silk in a velvet-covered box (all natural fibers and wood, no plastics, as per his requirements); the bracelet, with the Mote installed, installed, is on his arm. "I have learned a lot of things fr0m working with you, and I expect I will use many of them." "It was a pleasure, Ederyn," she says. "I am pleased with our collaborative result." She pauses. "If you ever find more of that dragon gold, I think I can speak for my mother in that Plimpton and Daughters would be interested in obtaining it fr0m you." "My elder sister Constance also told me," she adds, "that she is thinking on how to use your design for pieces for the Curtis Movie Awards next year. We supply a fair amount of the jewelry for those who show up there. Your sister borrowed one of our pieces a few years ago for that purpose." "I hope it works for you," Ederyn says, having heard enough fr0m her to understand, somewhat, the idea of 'setting a trend.' He takes the monorail back to Noys's apartment by himself. Being in Locus Minerva almost feels normal, after the time he's spent here, but he is looking forward to seeing Amber again. For several reasons. "Noys?" he calls cheerfully, entering the apartment. "I think we're done here." He holds up the box when she comes in sight, and when he gets close, opens it for her to take a look. Noys heads over and peers down as the box opens. She puts two fingers to her lips. "It's beautiful, Ederyn," she says, reaching with her free hand to touch the necklace. "I think you and the jewelers have outdone themselves." She grins to her brother. "I do think its long since time we headed back to Amber, though." Her eyes dart toward the Mote. "That is going to raise some eyebrows. But if you want to get your things, let's be off." "Right," he says. He goes to his room and changes back into his normal clothing, which this time he's cleaned. His local clothing, he carefully folds and puts away. Time to go home, he tells Nasirpal, while he's settling his belt and sword into place. To return to Amber again will be interesting, Nasirpal replies. "To further enhance our goals." And then, arrayed once more with his arms and belongings, the velvet box tucked under his arm, he presents himself to Noys for their return to Amber. Noys' trump, once he returns to the main room, drops the two of them neatly into Noys' quarters inside of the Castle. It appears to be around noonish, judging by the light streaming through the windows. Noys heads to the door, opens it, whistles, and a minute or so of speaking to the servant, returns to Ederyn. "Clocks and calendars are tricky things when dealing with multiple shadows, time shifts, different cycles of the day and so forth," Noys says. "It is past noon, and Court is tomorrow at ten. That will give me enough time to speak with Aunt Flora and cousin Asteria and find out if we are going to have problems tomorrow or not. "Unless," her eyes look over the Mote, "you want me to accompany you to see the King. That IS what you are doing, right, Ederyn?" "Er," he says, having failed (as she probably suspected) to grasp how urgent she believes this is. "Right now? ... If you think I should." His brow furrows. "I was hoping we would have time this afternoon to go shopping and see some of the city, the way you suggested ... a while ago." "Ederyn," Noys says, with patience in her voice, "consider what you have managed to accomplish. You found a brand new Pattern, walked it, met Dworkin, and now are the possessor and attuner of a jay-vee version of the Jewel of Judgement. "Unless," she regards Ederyn more carefully this time, "you didn't intend to tell Random. Or planned to do only at Court tomorrow." "Of course I plan to tell him!" he says. "I just thought it could wait till after Court tomorrow." He pauses, his gaze turned inward. "I suppose," he says slowly, "I feel that - all of this - will seem like I'm ... pushing. Even though that isn't what I intended. But to delay the speaking of it won't help with that, will it?" Ederyn sighs, then nods decisively. "Where do you think I might find him?" "It's not a Court day, so he won't be in the Great Hall. He could literally be anywhere else. We can ask a servant of course, rather than piteously wandering the Castle, looking into every room, every bathroom, searching for the King." She smiles slightly. "I don't mean to press you too hard, brother, but I did warn you of the dangers and risks of your arrival in the city." "Which you know much more about than I know," he admits. "And did you want me with you?" she adds. He starts to answer without thinking, then stops. Then he says, "Why should I stand alone when I don't have to? Please do come, Noys." She nods, clearly looking relieved. He smiles. "Let's ask a servant to find out where the King is, and while we wait, go downstairs to tell the Weir that I'm still alive. I expect they'd like to know." "One hopes that they haven't caused too much difficulty in your absence, although it was not long by their standards." Noys says. "But they ARE Weir." Two servants asked, en route to the Ruby Suite. Neither is certain of the King's location, although the second mentions having heard "drumming" in the library. "His Majesty DOES have a drum set," Noys says. "This suggests he is working off some stress." Ederyn and Noys do reach the doors of the Ruby Suite when a servant comes running up. Noys moves to intercept, but he heads right for Ederyn instead. She furrows her eyebrows and lets him pass and face Ederyn. "Prince Ederyn?" he says. He stops, panting slightly for a moment. "There is a very tall and imposing very heavily armed and armored woman at the gates of Castle Amber, asking for you. She is causing a bit of consternation with the guards." Ederyn looks astonished. "That doesn't sound like anyone I know," he says. "Did she give a name?" "Yes, milord Prince," the servant says. "Aurelia Carnelian of the Southern Firewall. At least, that the bits we were able to understand. She spoke in a strange unearthly voice. We thought that it might be another of your Weir. Or perhaps Princess Helias' folk. But she seems neither." "Ah," Ederyn says in a tone of comprehension. "How?" Noys' question is clearly directed toward Ederyn, not the servant. "And why?" "You know who this is?" the servant asks, having taken Noys' pause to recover his own breath further. "How, I don't know," Ederyn answers his sister. "Why - well, now that I think of it, she was very interested in Amber. The armor is new, though." He snorts and shakes his head. "I'll be astonished if the word 'adventure' doesn't cross her lips when we see her." To the servant, Ederyn says, "Please run back and tell them that she will be my guest. And that they must be very polite. She's an ally, and also a dragon. We will follow." It takes about a second and the half for the servant to start. "A ... a dragon, did you say, milord Prince? She's a dragon?" "Yes!" Noys hisses. "Now get going. Quickly!" The servant stumbles over his feet a bit, but is soon scrambling down the corridor. "Dragons don't exactly stop by the Castle every day, Ederyn," Noys says, slightly amused. "Come on, let's go meet your Dragon friend. I'll tell you a secret." She lowers her voice and starts walking in the wake of the scrambling servant. "This is not the first Dragon to come here. In fact, I met one in disguise at the Festival of the Unicorn. But that shouldn't be bandied about." "Why not?" "There are two kinds of dragons, the dangerous and the even more dangerous kind," Noys says. "Although shadow dragons are bad enough, dragons who are capable and powerful enough to go traveling between shadows are beings on par with family members. For one to get into the Castle without foreknowledge is a serious breach of security. Especially one hiding his nature. "Also," she adds, "the Dragon could be considered something of a symbol of the Serpent, or Chaos. Which is nonsense, since the original dragons predate both Amber and Chaos." "Hmm," Ederyn says. "Aurelia said something about Amber becoming 'closer' once I walked that Pattern." He exchanges a glance with Noys, both understanding that that sounds very much like the young dragon is capable of making short trips across shadow on her own. In the entry chamber to the Castle, Aurelia is recognizable by her height, face and striking red hair, just as her human form was in the Plane of Fire. The red-gold dress, however, has been replaced with a breastplate, greaves, leg protection, and boots in lacquered red and gold. The breastplate carving is, unsubtly, of a dragon in profile. One of her mailed hands is resting on the pommel of a longsword. Her stern and unhappy countenance, surrounded by a passel of guards and servants, melts to relief and delight at the appearance of Ederyn and Noys. He can't help but smile in response. "Prince Ederyn!" she calls. "A relief that you finally arrived. These would deny me entrance." "She assaulted two guards at the gate," the guard clearly in charge of the scene says, coming to meet Ederyn and Noys. "Pushed," Aurelia says, straightening her back and looking even taller. "For their insolence and indolence." Ederyn doesn't let the guard (or guards) prevent him fr0m approaching Aurelia and standing beside her. He takes a moment to survey the scene, his gaze so plainly assessing that some of the guards reflexively straighten their spines into real attention. The arrival of Noys and Ederyn on the scene galvanizes guards and servants to action and attention. Some of the latter start edging towards the sides of the room as he plunges into matters. Then he adopts a tone of mild reproof. "It is their duty to guard the Castle and that which it guards, Aurelia," he says. Switching his attention to the guards, singly and as a group, he lets a little bite creep into his tone. "I am less certain of whether courtesy is part of their training." And he pauses, expectantly and a bit severely. Noys says nothing, clearly watching and letting her brother spread his wings. The guards have the look of soldiers who have just had their drill sergeant come to find them playing cards instead of their duties. Backs have gone ramrod straight, and fear and respect are much in evidence. One of the guards clears his throat. "My apologies, milord Prince," he says. "We were not informed of the arrival of an august guest of yours. Sir." Ederyn frowns, pinning the unfortunate man with a disapproving gaze. "I am not the one was offended here." "I am no longer offended, Ederyn," Aurelia says. "Since you have arrived and all has come well with your arrival, as I hoped and expected." "Welcome to Castle Amber, Aurelia Carnelian," Noys says. "I am Ederyn's sister, Noys." Aurelia's bow is formal. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Princess Noys." She then turns back to Ederyn. "Milord Hesiesh gave me leave to journey here, and adventure against the Omphalos in your service. He allowed me to come here, if I would further you in those goals." "Is it true, milord?" the guard who spoke earlier speaks up. "That the lady is ... is a dragon?" "And also our ally against the Omphalos," Ederyn says firmly. "Now, you have things to be doing, ja? And the rest of you?" He sweeps the crowd with more disapproval. Dismissing the soldiers and servants fr0m his attention, Ederyn turns back to Aurelia. "I'll be happy for you to come with us," he tells her, ushering her to start walking back in the direction he and Noys came. "I understand that we'll be traveling a long way ..." (Continue on January 19, 2015) |
