TheWateryDepthsPartTwoThe Watery Depths Part Two"Let us go, then." Jystine says. She waits for a minute, and then turns to swim back and down through the rift. The passage into the rift at first is similar to the travel Martin, Godfrey and Meriel have done in the seas of Deiga to this point. It is only as the travelers, led by the Knight and her two countrymen, head deep into the rift that matters change. The pressure increases, the darkness increases, and the passage starts to become disorienting, and worse still, downward progress slows for the children of Rebma. Jystine, Taymour and Yahya start to outpace the other travelers. Martin can feel, in the depths of this rift, that there definitely is a solid and substantial shadow barrier between Deiga and some other world, a barrier that is less than perfectly porous. To Meriel, it feels like the waters are brinier, and there is a layer of water making it difficult to continue to swim downward. "So far, so good," Martin says. "Except this place tastes like salty syrup." He gets quiet, then, and expends some effort crossing the barrier like he would be entering a difficult shadow. Meriel swims steadily, watching their escorts to see what they make of the alteration, and also making sure her own strokes appears as strong and smooth, no matter what she is encountering. She keeps a watchful eye on Ostrom and Godfrey - but at the same time her own enjoyment of the adventure is shown by certain little motions and flurries as they swim deeper yet. Indeed, from Martin's point of view, it does feel like he is crossing a shadow boundary as he, with Meriel confidently in the lead, manages to penetrate the unusual layer and, less than fifty yards of downward swimming, penetrates it. Jystine and her companions do not appear to even notice the change or make no comment on it. Ostrom does slow down briefly, but the motion of everyone else propels him downward. It is after all of the group have passed this barrier, however, that another unexpected twist occurs. Although Meriel is certain that she never changed direction or orientation, she finds, as soon do the others, that she is now swimming upwards. In the dim light, the rift walls look different, much more jagged, made of some sort of volcanic rock. "Our relative direction and orientation have changed." Godfrey intones. "However, we are still moving away from Deiga if we continue to ascend." Above Meriel, light from the sun, but of a shade and intensity of white somewhat greater than that of Deiga's sun, is faintly streaming downward into the rift. Fortunately for Martin, the breathing spell is still holding. Martin lets out a breath, and realizes that he's been holding it. "Okay, I'm still good. Can the ritual be done underwater? Otherwise, I'm fine. Been a while since I've seen a change like that." "The ritual would be best done at the surface" Ostrom says, matching pace with Martin to make it easier to talk. "If it is needful, it can be done here and now." "Martin" Godfrey puts in. "I have been collecting data on the unusual shadow transition. Do you wish me to analyze it fully at this time? It will retard all functions save basic motor for approximately 1.3 hours to do so." "Once we exit the rift, the Autarch's palace." Jystine calls to Meriel. "is but an hour away by fin and swim stroke. Perhaps two hours for the slower amongst our group." The rift on this end is not quite as deep as the rift in Deiga, already Meriel can see that the end of it is visible above her. it is also clear to her, given the sunlight, that the waters this side of the rift is in are significantly shallower than those in Deiga. "Godfrey, yes, go ahead. But dump your calculations and come back out of it if I call you. As for the rest of it, I'll take my chances and if the spell fails, we'll just have to do it again." "As you wish" Ostrom says, with a slight trace of dubiousness in his voice. He exhales a stream of bubbles as punctuation. Meriel glances back at them to make sure that they are still coping. But it is clear that she is fascinated by what lies ahead - and she is examining the volcanic rock with keen interest. Nevertheless, she is waiting on their move. "Analysis will commence." Godfrey says. He does slow down his swimming rate, which, unless Meriel wants herself to outpace the group, does slow down Meriel and by extension everyone else. What this results in is a more leisurely swim, as the rift finally ends and Meriel can finally follow Jystine across a more lateral path. The waters here are colder than Deiga, and there is no sign of reefs. Instead, there are beds of pillowy lava that look smooth enough and in many cases clearly carved and engineered to act as roads for beings to walk the ocean bottom. As far as the animal life, there are no real sharks to be seen, or dolphins or any of the other higher aquatic forms. There are unusual species amongst the fish, octopi, and other species here. On top of what looks like a mile marker or a cairn of volcanic rock,squats an enormous orange starfish, the size of Martin's torso and possessing 11 arms in total. On the other end, the group swims beneath a grouping of what prove to be tiny jellyfish, each smaller than the palm of a hand but collectively enormous in number. Meriel, unless firmly restrained by Martin, is happy to dart up and down and from side to side, exploring all these interesting new phenomenon. She darts back to Godfrey to ask him questions of analysis that she's unable to ascertain herself - does he think the octopi poisonous? Edible? Would the spines of the starfish have medicinal qualities, perhaps? Or aphrodisiac? Can he detect any evidence of ongoing volcanic activity? That might, of course, account for sulphur in the water ... Martin does try such restraint, but only where Godfrey is concerned. ("He's thinking, Meriel. I ordered him to.") Martin will field whatever questions he can in Godfrey's stead, even the ones about aphrodisiacs. In Martin's experience, the octopi are unlikely, save for the ink,to be poisonous and could be quite tasty. The starfish would require dissection and analysis to determine any useful agents. Meriel collects a discarded spine as they pass, clearly in a moment of detached scientific enquiry. Volcanic activity? The lava formations here do not look like they are geologic in age. There are no signs of nearby undersea smokers or other underwater volcanic events that are currently active. An hour and a half of this travel, with Jystine's preference clearly for the bottom now evident, finally halts as Jystine stops by one of the mile marker/cairns. Ahead, in the water, the bulky outline of what must be the citadel is dimly visible. "Now we reach the personal territory of the Autarch." Jystine says, waiting for Godfrey, flanked by Yahya and Taymour, to reach the front as well. "Beyond here, we will meet armed patrols and other citizenry." she explains. "You may wish to prepare yourselves, or to decide upon your story. I am uncertain." the Knight looks at Martin and Meriel "that your mission to see the Autarch is a wise thing to publicly say. Most amongst my people would not crave such an audience." Meriel smiles. "I think," she says, "that most of your people will guess that we have swum in different seas. Is it not the custom that honoured guests are brought to the Autarch? Or must they proclaim their mission publically?" She glances to Martin, perfectly willing to fall in with his ideas. "We're here as emissaries, wherever that takes us," Martin says. "We shouldn't have to proclaim anything until the bureaucracy keeps us from going farther. But before that... now is probably the good time to do that ritual." "As you wish" the Knight replies. "There may be a clash of words, if not blades, for such declarations, but it will be the Citadel's Camerlengo to decide how far we may proceed once we arrive there. Anger or even confuse him, and we will be kept in the Antechamber until we die of old age." In the meantime, Ostrom has sidled up next to Martin. "As you have requested, Prince Martin of Amber. Let us begin." He offers Martin a knife and has the cup in his other hand. "Catching your diluted blood may be difficult, and it may be necessary for you to shed more than you did previously in order to obtain enough. More than three drops, certainly." The talk of blood has brought the attention of Taymour and Yahya, who don't quite *crowd* Ostrom but the brightness and eagerness in their eyes is obvious. Only Jystine seems to be resisting such interest, taking a haughty demeanor. Meriel frowns faintly and steps back - diffusion of liquids in water she proposes to breathe always offends her Rebman senses about such things. Martin holds out his arm, resigned to the task, but he does turn his head and glare at the two who are suddenly crowding up on him to watch like sharks trying to nudge a tasty treat. The glare does keep the two Sharkmen at bay, and drives them back a foot or so. Even so, their attention is rapt as Ostrom sheds the blood into the water and performs the ritual. Just as he did on the shore, Martin's face appears and he is anointed by the magically enchanted blood. While Martin's ability to breathe never lapsed, as soon as the rite is complete, he feels hale and heartier, as if he had gone from breathing the air on top of Kolvir to that at sea level at the staircase to Rebma. Ostrom waves a hand to scatter the blood, and a moue of disappointment comes from Taymour as the precious blood spreads outward, losing its color and concentration in the sulfur-tinged water. Meriel breathes again. "This will last another three days." Ostrom says confidently. "Good," says Meriel, ready to swim on, and giving Martin a cheerful grin. "Better safe than sorry," Martin says. "Let's go see this guy, then, and see how far he can get us." "It will depend on the Camerlengo's mood." Jystine says. She seems relieved that the delay is over, and starts leading the group. Taymour and Yahya continue to eye Martin and the arm that Ostrom bloodlet but they continue to maintain their distance, taking on the position of outlier outriders. Ostrom centers himself between Martin and Godfrey. Godfrey, during all of this, continues his mechanical, silent swimming, not registering much more than obstacles and the movement of others. His mechanical gaze seems to have taken on the mien of someone deep in thought, oblivious to nearly everything else but what he ponders. Despite Jystine's fears of the group being challenged and stopped, the group manages to get remarkably close to the ziggurat-shaped citadel of the Autarch before anything like that happens. Oh, they get the occasional stare and look from sharkmen (of both genders), but no one sees fit to try and halt their progress untl the coral gates that define a token wall around the structure are in view. There is a school of guards milling around (mostly on the sea floor) the gate and the wall. A clot of them stop their motion at the approach of Martin, Meriel and company. "Asawaran Jystine. You are permitted entry, of course." one of the guards says. He gestures languidly to Taymour and Yahya. "Along with your two serfs." Martin and Meriel can hear a soft sound of distemper from the two sharkmen at the appelation. The soldier continues speaking. These others strangers should identify themselves." "Guard Captain Maather, this is..." Jystine begins "Are they mute?" Captain Maather replies sharply, cutting her off. "Can they not speak for themselves?" he looks at Ostrom, Godfrey, Martin and Meriel expectantly. "Martin, Prince of Amber and Rebma," Martin says. "Along with Princess Meriel, also of Amber and Rebma, Godfrey, my servant, and Ostrom of the Realm of Deiga. Here to see the Camerlengo." Meriel bristles besides Martin like a sea urchin having a really bad day, but says nothing. Instead she shoots the guard a look designed to make him feel that not only has he left out a vital part of his military equipment, but that what is is seeing beneath where it should have been is not worth looking at anyway. "of Amber and Rebma." Captain Maather repeats, as if it were a magical formula. He gestures toward one of his fellow guards. "To the Camerlengo's office, on the double. Tell him we have visitors that say they are nobles from Amber and Rebma." "You may yet be rewarded for your service, Asawaran." Captain Maather says with a toothy smile. He then looks at Martin and Meriel and bows his head. Even as he does so, both Martin and Meriel can see the calculating, greedy look in his eyes. "Surely you and your friends will want to wait inside, rather than standing outside the citadel like bumpkins from fallen Mu." "Come" he urges, gesturing past the wall and the gate, now opening, toward the Citadel. Martin gives Meriel a glance that clearly says, 'Showtime'. He does follow, but he flashes Godfrey a hand signal. 'Prepare for violence.'. Godfrey, for his point gives Martin a single, short nod. Jystine pauses and regards both the group and the guards carefully. Both Martin and Meriel will note the narrowing of her eyes at Captain Maather and her somewhat subtle body language changes on her part. Martin finds himself nodding just slightly in response, and stops himself. He rests his hand on his sword hilt (the rifle having inexplicably disappeared some time ago after the fight), and slides the other hand into his pocket. Meriel makes sure that her dagger is close to hand - seemingly without moving a muscle - and smiles warmly at the Captain. After all, if she should have to kill him, it will be nice for him to die with the memory of a friendly face in his last moments. The Captain gestures. and walks forward on the sea bottom, through the gates, toward the citadel. Several guards, a token force, really, have started to follow the group, trailing a little behind Godfrey, Taymour and Yahya. Jystine remains in between these three, Meriel, and Martin, near to Ostrom. So arrayed, the group soon is in front of imposing doors made out of a rock lighter than the dark granite and gabbro that seems to make up the Citadel proper. These doors are already open and Captain Maather leads the group inside, the doors closing behind them. Inside in the forechamber, shark people are going about their business. There is plenty of more guards here, including an officer leading a detachment of a dozen guards toward Captain Maather, Martin, Meriel and company. "Where are the prisoners to be brought?" the officer asks. The look on Maather's face to his counterpart is venomous. The guards behind the group start pointing knives,spears and daggers. Martin and Meriel can hear Jystine drawing her blade as well. Martin's admonition for Godfrey to prepare for violence looks like it is about to go into effect. "Godfrey! Behind!" Martin yells, facing the group at the front. A full dozen soldiers sound like more than a man with a sword can handle, so Martin looks for something big- a table would be perfect- to hurl as a missile or use as a battering ram. The guards start forming ranks, like a phalanx, with their spears. Being that this is an anteroom, there happens to be a table. Only a mirror and a couple of decorative pieces of sculpted coral are on it. Its bulky and large, but it appears to be well within Martin's strength limits to wield. Jystine starts circling with her blade, distrust on her face as her gaze ricochets between Maather and his men, Meriel, Martin, and everyone else. Taymour and Yahya, weaponless, are back to back, and seem to have decided that getting out of the way of the people with weapons is the best strategy. Meriel shoots up into the water. She's already seen that the best warrior, Jystine, is not much good in three dimensions - which suggests that the knight's associates will be worse. Besides, she has a feeling that there's a handy rack of spears set (inexplicably) close to the ceiling of this room - perhaps for those of an earlier generation more skilled in aquatic arts. And with any luck, the ceiling should have some interesting embrasures and protrusions that will make good cover for shark attacks. There isn't a rack of spears near the ceiling, but probability and fate bend enough that there happens to be one halfway up the wall, clearly meant as decoration. Obsidian tipped, their points gleam and catch Meriel's attention. The spears range from short stabbing varieties to long weapons suited for dealing with orca and giant squid. If she spots what she's looking for, she'll yell, "Ostrom! To me!" on the assumption that the merman possesses her own aquatic dexterity. Ostrom, as it so happens, has already rose into the water column trying to get away from the brewing conflict. Meriel's call causes him, with a tail splash, to launch across the room in her direction. And thus that is where we stand. Meriel and Ostrom are currently above the plane of the conflict at the spears. Martin and Godfrey are at the large table, facing off against Maather and his phalanx of dozen-plus guards. Jystine has her sword drawn, waiting for an attack to come. Her countrymen are toward the wall of the chamber, trying to simply stay out of the way for the forthcoming bloodshed. Actions? "Well, if you can't face behind us, then grab that end and help me," Martin says to Godfrey. He himself will squat down, take a good grip of one end of the table, then flip it towards their opponents. While they're recovering from that (Martin hopes), he'll touch his tattoo and start to recite a formula. Hopefully he'll manage to unfold the hyperspatial rhombus he created some time ago in order to release a bullhorn-shaped sonic screamer into his hands. Meriel tosses a throwing spear across to Ostrom, and grabs one for herself, light enough to be fast, heavy enough to have momentum, and entirely deadly. She is watchful and waiting, content to be a hovering threat until Martin moves on to the attack. But already she's sizing up which she'll take out first. Martin, she assumes, will want to deal with Maather personally, so she'll be looking at those best placed to attack Martin, or to get off a shot up towards her and Ostrom. Martin and Godfrey's flinging of the table is not quite as impressive as it would be on dry land. Nevertheless a large table propelled across the room, underwater, is a dangerous missile. The phalanx of guards and Captain Maather try to swim out of the way. Not all of the guards manage to escape ,and at least four of them are struck by the table itself, with most of the others disoriented at the very least by the attack. Without prompting, Godfrey takes a position in front of Martin. In the meantime two of the several guards not in the phalanx swim upwards toward Meriel. Meriel's assumption about their three-dimensional capability proves to be prescient, they are as awkward as Jystine in dealing with the additional dimension in combat. Nevertheless, they approach Meriel with spears (and a net), clearly intent on capture. Behind them, Meriel can see Ostrom, with the spear she cast to him, swimming to try and flank them. Two more guards are approaching Jystine. No one seems to be bothering for the moment with Yahya and Taymour. And as the guards in the disrupted phalanx, led by Maather, start to reform their line, in a much more looser, skirmisher formation, Martin's Bullhorn manifests. Martin turns the Sonicating Differential Disruptor (Mark 3) in his hands, and wonders if it's going to work. The Mark 1 destroyed an entire city block on its first test, and created a Brown Noise Effect for an additional sixteen block radius. Too strong. The Mark 2 created a slight nosebleed in a lab rat after thirty seconds exposure at a distance of one inch...or that might have been the strawberry jam the rat was eating at the time. Too weak. Well. Martin squints his eyes, points the bullhorn straight at Maather (moving so Godfrey won't be in the way), turns his head, pulls the trigger, and hopes that it doesn't shatter any of his teeth this time. Meriel throws one spear, intended to incapacitate the spear-arm of the nearest approaching sharkman and then swift as thought grabs a second spear, fully prepared to serve his (its?) companion in the same way. Meriel's cast of the spear strikes its mark, hitting the sharkman in the wrist, causing him to drop his spear, falling slowly through the water. He howls in pain and stops his upward motion. In the meantime, his partner gets the worst of it, as Meriel's cast distracts him enough to allow Ostrom to slam into her, spear tip first, from behind. The spear tip exits his chest right below the shoulder blade, having been driven through his body from the back to front. With Meriel grabbing a second spear, the first sharkman looks at her with alarm, but remains where he is, treading in place. In the meantime, the guards who are ambulatory start to cautiously press in on Martin and Godfrey, with Maather in the middle. This does leave him and him along vulnerable to Martin's sonic weapon. Although now is not quite the time to really notice such details, Martin will note that the creation does look different than the last time he manifested it. Instead of the sleek, modern look of the Disruptor, it now looks like a marriage of a trumpet and a miniature pipe organ. Valve settings take the place of the sleeker controls on the earlier iteration. Function does not always follow form, however. By tuning the third valve and activating the device, although the initial sound is music in the key of F Major rather than B Minor, it is still a sonic weapon all the same. It doesn't quite make Maather's ears bleed. Not quite. But the sonic weapon does stun Maather in his tracks, and he puts his hands up to his ears as he sinks to his knees, rocking back and forth in agony. Mark 3 apparently has a narrow focus, however, and only one of the Captain's guards appears affected in the same way. One of the guards has started a deadly dance with Jystine, the pair circling each other. Four more guards, the remaining ones ambulatory and not still recovering from the table, press forward and seek to relieve their captain's woes by trying to impale Martin and Godfrey. The latter is trying to draw off the quartet, but only two of the guards are biting on the distraction at the moment. The other two are pressing toward Martin, one seeking to impale and her companion readying a toss of the spear. Martin decides that since he can move in three dimensions, that he can throw a little strategy into the mix. Keeping his finger on the trigger, he swims up and to the side so that he can line up the incoming guards and finally catch them and Maather in the same narrow beam. Now is not quite the time to let them find out about his lab coat. Meriel sends a second spear to down the first sharkman, grabs another from the rack, tosses it to Ostrom to replenish the one he has used, grabs another for herself and looks around for more prey. She sees Martin's manoeuvre, but decides not to distract him with the offer of spears; he appears to be doing well enough with his strange device. Martin's upward swim earns him a wild cast of the spear from the thrower. It is wide right, and lazily strikes against a wall. There are plenty of targets, below, or to put it in the Rebman idiom, prey. None have swum up to meet Meriel after the failure of the pair who came after her and Ostrom. These are the guards who, in various states of preparedness, are going after Godfrey, who remains at ground level, wielding a spear wrest from one of the guards, stabbing and parrying the thrusts of two of the guards. Martin's continued use of his sonic weapon, still not malfunctioning(!), in the meantime, continues to disable Captain Maather and, now a total of three guards. And thus the field of battle looks thus. Meriel and Ostrom are high in the room, both armed with spears (the "I'm on him!" Meriel yells back, plunging through the water with the single driving purpose of a shark. "Ostrom, watch my tail!" she adds, an invitation that might, at other times, be a somewhat more seductive invitation. But now, Meriel is merely intent on Ostrom covering here whilst she moves into a position where she can prevent, probably with lethal force, the guard attempting to exit the room. Her plan it to throw the spear she holds; if that seems to be too difficult, she will use it as a hand-held weapon to skewer him. Meriel's dive is indeed, with the ferocity of a sea predator. The other three guards, rising, start to scatter as Meriel races down toward the officer attempting to escape. As if being accelerated by an atlatl, the spear arcs toward its target. The spear strikes Meriel's prey in the rear of his left shoulder and the tip passes through it and to the other side. The force of the cast spear brings the officer to his knees. He is still clearly alive, however, and is struggling to get up and continue his errand despite the dolorous wound. In the meantime, one of the three guards throws a spear upward toward Meriel. He does not have the advantages Meriel has during her descent, but the missile does require Meriel to slow or alter course to avoid it all the same. On the other hand, with a slap of his tail fluke and taking advantage of his aquatic speed , the merman is next to Meriel, the spear he is wielding held out to her for a second cast, or to change her tactics to skewering the injured but not dead officer, or deal with her attacker. Meriel swerves aside to miss the spear thrown at her, but reaches out like the crack of a stingray, at the same time shakng her head at Ostrom; she plans to replenish her weapon by catching the one thrown at her. If successful, she will throw it back at her attacker - hard - before knifing down through the water to finish off the first, If she misses, she will take Ostrom's ... then put the same plan into effect. As far as Martin and his plan to increase his sonic attack, he does have a wide choice in affecting more targets than the three he already is affecting, but widening and increasing the effect will, he thinks, increase the probability that the unit will finally give out . Martin does not know if it is an arithmetical, logarithmic or exponential increase in potential failure rate with each additional target affected by broadening and increasing the signal strength of the sonic weapon. Martin will just move forward along his attack vector, then, counting on the decreased distance to add more strength to the signal. If or when the unit gives out, he'll draw his sword and attack. Keeping on the same level for the unit does give Martin additional time to keep the beam on Maather and his guards. Maather is starting to bleed out of the ears at this point, his attempt to crawl out of the range of the beam patently unsuccessful. In the meantime, Meriel's catch is sucessful, and the return volley catches her attacker in the knee. He screams in pain and falls to the ground. The other two guards, rather than risk the same, set their spears in case Meriel decides to go after them. Her quarry, though, of course, is the guard attempting to flee. While he does get a short distance to the door in the delay that Meriel has, its not enough to avoid getting skewered by Meriel wielding Ostrom's spear. The blood is in the water now, and if Meriel felt the bloodlust of a shark, the iron copper tang in the water certainly would raise it. At this point, Jystine finishes off her second guard, and with a hunger in her eyes not unlike Meriel's, looks toward the guards not actively dead or being stunned by Martin. At seeing this, a decision is made by the tallest of the surviving guards. "We surrender!" he suddenly says, dropping his spear and raising his hands. "No more!' The remainder of the guards not being stunned quickly decide to follow suit. Fortunately, with the interior and exterior doors still closed, the carnage in this room is still a secret to the outside, or the inside world. "Oh," says Meriel, disappointed. She looks at Martin, not without a certain hopefulness that he could refuse to accept. Martin lets his Bullhorn go a few seconds more before he lets go of the button and tosses it aside. "You, yes," he says to the guards, then turns towards Maather. "You, no. This is all your fault. Toss him a sword, somebody." It takes a few moments for Maather and the guards under the bullhorn to recover. When he does so, still shaking his head in an attempt at recovery, Maather's response drips with haughtiness. "Toss me a sword? I am not fighting for your amusement like some sort of bravo." he exclaims. His eyes rove around at the guards, Martin, Meriel, Ostrom, Jystine, Taymour, Yahya and even Godfrey for confirmation. He barely catches a blade tossed to him...at him, really. None of the guards dared, it turns out that it is Jystine who throws her own blade at the Captain. The Captain holds it limply in his hand. "I'm supposed to fight *her*, is that it?" Maather says, looking past Martin to Meriel. "Is she some sort of Ixitxachitl, seeking to drink my blood?" "Looks like they have a legend in common with our tribes." Ostrom says to no one in particular. Meriel shoots him a thoughtful look - here's something to explore later, perhaps - but turns to Martin and says, "Take him yourself, if you wish. He's paltry prey, though." "Paltry?!" Maather says, scandalized. He raises his sword. "That was my intention, all along," Martin says, his voice a little cold. "I announced us, thus I was the one offended when he collaborated to trick us. He is mine to kill, cousin." "You used your sorcery to stun me." Maather says. "*I* am offended you resorted to such a base guile." With that, Martin heads toward Maather, his sword up in a very Benedict-esque en garde. Maather raises his sword and moves forward to engage Martin directly, without further preamble. Martin may be best known as a technomancer, even if his technomancy has turned into a clockpunk/steampunk variety as of late rather than the cool lines of ultra modern technology. People also know him to be skilled with other esoteric arts of various kinds. What many people forget is that Martin spent a considerable amount of time in the company and care of Benedict. Benedict considers technology and sorcery a tool--he is first and foremost a warrior, and possibly the best single one to be found. More than a little of that has rubbed off on Martin. He can assess Maather fairly well. In a straight up fight, Martin thinks that he is just below Meriel in skill and ability, based on the way he is approaching Martin. Meriel would have a drawn out fight that she would ultimately win, if for no better reason than her mastery of three dimensional combat. For Martin, Maather is a relatively easy win. Thus, the question is, how does Martin want to handle Maather, and in what way? Under other circumstances, Martin would draw out the fight and let his opponent wear himself out; an exercise in futility and despair. Unfortunately, their time is limited before discovery, and he has the knight watching him too, so he'll have to hurry things along. Martin opts for letting Maather waste a minute or so trying to get around Martin's defense, then he'll open up and pound the man with a flurry of blows, aiming to incapacitate or kill. Meriel watches, at the same time keeping an eye on the surrendered guards, in case they show any inclination to escape. The surrendered guards, in addition to everyone else, are transfixed by the fight, perhaps too transfixed to contemplate plans for escape. Certainly now would be the best time to try and do so. None, however, decide to test Meriel's watchful vigil, opting instead to watch the conclusion of the duel between Maather and Martin. In the end, Martin manages to swirl around his opponent and deliver a blow to the spinal cord. Like a rag doll, Maather falls to the ground. If the wound does not prove fatal, he will certainly be paralyzed, perhaps from the waist down, forever. Even as Maather tries to lift himself by his arms and fails, the shame of defeat is in his eyes. The remaining guards, Jystine, Taymour, Yahya and Ostrom are all silent. Martin's allies and companions more reverent, the guards clearly fearful and cowed. "Martin" Godfrey says, breaking the silence. "There is a 56 percent probability that events here will be discovered and investigated within a quarter hour." Martin turns away, produces a handkerchief from a pocket, cleans his blade and sheathes it. "Yah," he says. "Which leaves us with the question, what will we do with them? It seems the direct approach failed early. Too bad, 'cause we just wanted to talk." He tries to make that sound casual, and not obviously for the guards' ears. Meriel nods her agreement. "In fact," she says, "if we would just continue onwards ... with a suitable escort ... " She looks thoughtfully at the surviving guards. If she is thinking that the number of people who, having surrendered to her and Martin as they progress onwards, might soon be sufficient to form an elite company of warriors ... she is sufficiently tactful not to comment. Jystine strides over to Martin and Meriel. She gives Maather a look of disdain, and exhales a stream of bubbles. "I think we should continue in to see the Autarch, escorted or not. Surely, there is reason why we were treated with such hostility, without any chance to explain ourselves. It was dishonorable." "I think you wonder why you were attacked too, lady." Taymour comments idly. "We eitther bind the guards, or suborn them. They seem to have more sense than their captain." Ostrom says. "Suborn them to our purpose, I say." "Agreed," says Meriel. "We will make an more impressive arrival that way." She pulls out her knife and studies her reflection in it, apparently trying to decide how badly her hair has suffered from recent events. Martin mods his agreement. "Suborn the guards, then. But I dislike giving them weapons." "Allow me." Ostrom says to Martin. With a kick of his tail flukes, Ostrom moves himself in front of the remaining guards. "I am Ostrom, trusted friend and guide to these, of Princely birth. They see audience with your Autarch, and will that you will precede us to his presence. You will do this without weapons." The guards murmur amongst themselves, considering the offer. After a moment, one of the guards moves forward and regards Meriel and Martin with a challenging gaze. "I am Glasua and I speak for my brethren and sisteren." She pauses a moment, exhales a breath, and continues. "Will we be permitted protection under you, if the Autarch should seek to slay us?" she pipes up. "Will you offer us such cover, in exchange for disarming us?" Nearby, Maather gives off a feeble moan of protest. Martin nods. "I will protect you as I would protect myself or any of my companions, until the time comes for me to leave this place," he says. "Is that sufficient?" There is a silent bow of the head from Glasua. "Godfrey, I need you to bind up some of the weapons and spears, things you can carry easily, and play sergeant-at-arms for a little while. You'll distribute the weapons if needed, if this all goes to hell and the guards are in danger." "Understood, Martin." Godfrey says. "The weapons will be bound but kept sound in case of need of use." "We shall give our weapons to their master at arms." Glasua says, in a declarative statement that doubles as an order for the guards to collect their weapons to hand them over to Godfrey. Meriel says nothing to this, instead sheathing her knife and collecting a harpoon gun from among the weapons which she slings across her back for easy accessibility. But as the others move to carry out Martin's orders, she motions to him to join her for a private word. And that's what Martin does, moving over to Meriel, his back to the others, and blocking sight of her face so that no one can read their lips. "Did I forget something?" he asks. "No," she says. "I thought you should know ... the way ahead looks clear enough. Everything's calm ... so far." She doesn't bother to tell him how she knows this, but she does manage a lurking grin, Then it fades as she goes on, "I caught a glimpse of the Autarch on his throne, surrounded by his court. But ... I'm less worried about him than I am about who is standing next to him. Male, I think. He was cloaked, hooded. But I could see ... his skin was golden. And he is human." "Aw, nuts," Martin says. He fumes for a minute. "And I do mean, nuts. If the Goldthing has already got the Autarch's ear, or even possessed him, then we'll get nowhere. Also not going to help our knight to find out he's still alive and kicking and not stuck in Paris. About the best we could do is gather a little intel if we talked to him, and then make a quick escape. At the expense of our new friends here, I might add." Meriel tilts her head on one side, considering this. "Divide our strength?" she suggests. "One of us moves forward - the other moves with the best of our allies through the city to sow dissent and stir up an uprising. We send Ostrom back to tell his people what he has seen, and what we know so that they can prepare. And then we arrange a point and place to re-unite - the two of us and Godfrey. I doubt all our allies will survive, but it could improve their odds. And it will certainly darken the waters behind us." Having suggested action, she now looks at Martin. "Who is this Goldthing?" In the meantime, in the background, Ostrom has,with Glasua, started organizing the guards, speaking with them and seemingly soothing any ruffled feathers. Autonomously, without input from Martin, Godfrey sees to the defeated and crippled Maather, carrying him to the side of the room. His feeble protests are no match for the creation of Martin's strength. "Our cousin Jayson," Martin says. "Well, strike that. Jayson... bonded... with an immensely powerful creature, one strong enough that he might hear if we say his name in the same Shadow. So we called him the Goldthing. It's the Greek god of the Sun, if that will help you with the name he uses. The explosion that ripped through Shadow and damaged Amber, that was from Jayson trying to break apart from it. I thought we had it trapped in Paris." He fumes silently. "It's a very long story. But one thing I know, he might be able to take care of us both at the same time, no matter how far apart. And he already has played the religion card here, which makes an uprising difficult." Meriel nods thoughtfully. "Unless," she says, answering Martin's last point, "he has already interfered with the established religious beliefs of the people. That often has a way of rebounding. People have a way of clinging to the traditions of their youth. They may be swayed for a time by the arguments of demagogues, but early beliefs are hard to expunge entirely. I wonder how much innovation this Goldthing has had to introduce, and whether the populace might be ripe for a Counter Reformation." Then she shrugs. "But that is just muddying the waters. In the light of this knowledge, should we continue forwards? Or glide away like lamprey who have loosened their hold?" In the background, Godfrey has finished dealing with Maather. Ostrom continues to work with the guards, the preparations taking on a definite military air now. Godfrey swims over toward Meriel and Martin, stopping out of obvious earshot, but bowing his head slightly, with intent to speak with Martin and Meriel evident on his features of gears, clockwork and mechanika. Martin jerks his head to call Godfrey over, while he says to Meriel, "Well. We might learn something if we talk to him. What we're going to need is a quick escape if it all goes south. I have one, but I could only save a few people and myself, not this whole group of soldiers." Godfrey approaches as Meriel continues to talk to Martin. "Ostrom and Jystine have the greatest use to use," says Meriel, "and I'll trust you're right about being able to escape ... you've managed it before. But ... you don't think either of us will end up like Jason?" She turns her head a little on one side to catch his response - a gesture Martin might remember from their youth, when it was a half-unconscious sign of anxiety. At the same time, she twists a certain ring on her finger. "Martin, Meriel." Godfrey says. He gives Meriel a brief glance and then focuses his attention on Martin. "The preparations for the guards are complete. There are indications that the Citadel is becoming aware of our presence and will move to act. The passages beyond this room have been cleared of persons. I rate a 78% probability this is a preliminary measure on the Autarch's part prior to some sort of embassy, envoy or military force coming to assess the situation here. One of the guards believes that they will send someone to first, prior to attempting a more military means, first." "What are your orders?" "Hmm," Martin says, then says to Meriel, "The last I heard, the Goldthing had to touch you to take over. Touch you, or, other things. The guards, they're not going to be much use to us any more, and I don't want to be foresworn. I'm thinking we should go ahead and arm them after all, send them out of the area so they don't take the flak for all this. That leaves you and me and Godfrey and Jvstine, and that's a small enough group to make a quick escape." Meriel nods slowly. "And Ostrom," she adds, having had the advantage of fighting beside him. "Shall we send him back to his people? And - Martin - can you be a little more explicit about the 'other things'? It would help to know whether I need to protect my mind, or cover my eyes, my ears or my genitalia." "Given that the Amber Pattern is, to our best knowledge, free of the taint of Jayson and Apollo, a Pattern Defense would have a beneficial effect in resisting any effects he might employ." Godfrey puts in. There is a whirr of gears before he continues. "Although how effective a defense may be is impossible to determine due to an excessive number of unresolved independent variables, I predict that such a defense to only have a 5.6% chance of no positive benefit." Down by the guards, Ostrom, Jvstine, and her two countrymen are conferring with the guards. "I'll remember that," Martin says, nodding. "And Meriel, what I heard was that Jayson slept with, well, everybody, so keep the appropriate things covered. Godfrey, if you'll start the disbursement, I'll address them. The sooner the better, then we can move ahead with the smaller group." And Martin moves to do just that, unless he's stopped; he tells the guards that he's not going to put them in harm's way, or in the path of responsibility, and tells them to leave the building as expeditiously as possible. Meriel follows him, pausing to speak to Ostrom and Jvstine, aware that their danger will be all the greater, but trying not to let this show. Ostrom loyally refuses to do anything but stay with Martin and Meriel. "The Dirda would use my scales to decorate children's toys if I did otherwise" he says. While Yahya and Taymour want to leave and be done with the Amberites, Jvstine gives a toothy grin and shakes her head. "There is still blood scented water between us. I will not be so easily cast aside." she says fiercely On the other hand, there is surprise, shock and anxiety from the guards as their dismissal is made plain. "I know not what has changed in the last moments" Glasua says, holding up a hand and quelling the murmurs of the surprised guards with a raised hand. A stream of bubbles exhales from her mouth as she regards Martin. "They are going to destroy the palace" Maather, in the corner says acidly. "They just don't want you to get blown up with it. You should be honored. They are going to treat me as already dead." "Is it true?" Glasua says to Meriel. "Do you intend to destroy the palace and all within, save yourselves?" Martin smiles at Maather's direction, but there's no humor in it. "Nice try," he says. "No, that is not my intention. I... know... who stands with your Autarch, and we're... not friends. If the conversation goes sour, and I anticipate that it will, I don't want the rest of you to take the fall. It's my responsibility. It would be better if you weren't all around, reminding your boss that you've lost a fight and that you're behind me. And it's too much... too much to ask of me, to try and cover everyone at the same time. That's why I want the rest of you out of it." "Even your skills have limits." Glasua says, with a nod. There is a murmur amongst the guards at Martin's explanation. Mel nods agreement with Martin. "If we intended that," she adds, not entirely comfortingly, "we would be taking to with us, to ensure that no witnesses were left behind. The fact that we are giving you freedom while we press forward to the palace should give you confidence in our intent." Then a thought occurs to her and she looks at Glasua. "Unless you think we *ought* to be destroying the palace?" "If your desire is to cripple the rule of the Autarch by confronting he who stands with him, then to complete that task, the destruction of the Citadel would be of benefit." Glasua declares. There is some grumbling from some of the guards, with some sharp elbows and quiet comments thrown back and forth at her words. "She wants to be Autarch" is one of the phrases Martin and Meriel can hear from the guards. "I told you true." Maather grumbles from the corner. "Was not slaying him truly a kindness?" Jystine comments to Meriel. "His words irritate like the tentacles of a jellyfish." "It would be the easy way," Martin agrees. "Which is why I didn't do it." He looks around. "Blow up the palace, huh? That wouldn't guarantee anything for the Goldthing, and successful or not, cutting off the head of the political structure here would cause chaos all around." "Yes," says Meriel to Jystine, "although the sting of the jellyfish may cure the itch of the puffer fish. Sometimes permanently, of course." "One way or another," she adds to Martin, "I think we should move soon ... and towards the ... Thing." There is a sudden flutter amongst the guards, as one of the guards left to watch the hallway comes up to Glasua and whispers into her ear, a cloud of bubbles between mouth and ear. She nods a moment and then faces Meriel and Martin. "One of the nobles from the Court, without weapons and hands raised, is swimming toward the room." Glasua says. "All right," Martin says. "Now is the time... if you're going to stay out of this and avoid being lumped in with me, you need to go ahead and leave." He swims toward the door, then, intending to meet the emissary outside the door so that they can't report on what's in the room. The guards shuffle and exhale. As a unit, they all look to Glasua for her decision. She bows her head. "Good luck to the five of you. If you succeed, the city will fall into turbulence. We must prevent that." She swings her head around to the guards. "Hoy! To me!" she shouts, and starts moving toward the exit. Jystine looks at Yahya and Taymour. "I know you want to go with Glasua. Perhaps the guard leader might even find you useful with what comes. Begone." Yahya opens his mouth to speak, but Taymour clamps his mouth firmly over it. "Goodbye" he says, to Meriel, still holding Yahya's mouth shut. "Forgive my broodbrother his silence." The glare that Yahya gives him could boil an ocean. Finally, he releases him. Yahya just gloweringly nods to Meriel and Martin. And, along with the guard, they swim toward the front doors, leaving Martin, Meriel, Godfrey, Ostrom, and the Knight. And, of course, Captain Maather, in the corner. Meriel gestures to Godfrey to stay close enough to Martin to protect him, and then looks to assisting any escapes, or organising the rest into a fighting force to back Martin - at which point she'll do her best to join him outside the door. With the guards gone, Meriel's reserve force consists of herself, Ostrom, and Jystine. Maather has taken to remaining quiet and stationary. Meriel can deduce that he is just waiting for the right chance, rather than being properly cowed. She does have a little time to make a decision as to what to do with him before the Emissary arrives and everyone is at the door. Meriel glances at Martin, and then, significantly, at Maather. She holds a harpoon lightly in her hands as though it is THE lady's accessory this year. She could, hoever, deploy it in a split second. In short order, a tall, thin native, with greyish cartilaginous skin and looking very much like the sharks that Jystine's people are descended from, swims up and stops a few feet from the doorway. "Who here speaks for this rabble of a disturbance?" he asks imperiously, staring at Martin, Godfrey, Meriel, and beyond them to Ostrom and Jystine. He dismisses the last with a bubble-laden snort, and looks back at Martin and Meriel. Martin smiles. "Acting, huh?" he says. "Prince Martin and Princess Meriel of Amber beg audience with the Autarch. And our kinsman." He swims over to Maather, grabs him by the scruff of the neck (making sure there's no attempt at an attack with a hidden weapon), drags him back, and heaves him to a heap in front of the emissary. "Captain Maather" the emissary says with all of the joy one has upon being presented with an unwanted birthday present. "And this time, if you don't want a 'disturbance', don't lie and say you'll grant an audience and then try some base half-assed attack to make yourself look good." Meriel simply smiles and shifts the harpoon slightly in her hands. "Captain Maather, I'm certain that Major Tyrel would like to speak to you regarding your performance. I don't think you should clean yourself up first, either." With the whimper of a whipped dogfish, Maather stumbles beyond the emissary and down the hall. The Emissary turns back to Martin and Meriel. "If you are a Prince and a Princess, you will doubtless understand that the politics of a court can be fractious and deadly. Maather's ambition apparently has exceeded his grasp." the Emissary's tone has softened a bit but he still has most of his hauteur. "I believe that they are who they claim to be, Lord Tohjaya." Jystine pipes up. "I didn't ask *you* for your opinion." the Emissary, Lord Tohjaya replies. "But it is noted." Tohjaya returns to look at Martin and Meriel. "Who is this kinsman that you claim blood tie to?" Both Martin and Meriel can see the fear and concern in his eyes, as if he has more than an inkling who they are talking about. Martin smiles a little wider. "Our cousin Jayson. He might be going by another name, Apollo, god of light and the sun. Or something like that. We would very much like to speak with him." Meriel, in confirmation of this, opens her eyes very wide and and give one of her warmest smiles, combined with a glance that could raise the temperature of the water around them an appreciable number of degrees. "You speak of the Man of Gold. Jaysen" Tohjava says. "I can see it in your eyes." He lowers his gaze, nodding slowly. His voice is just on this side of quaking. "He who has advised the Autarch these seasons. He who has opened the rifts to other worlds. He who defeated the Autarch's daughter in single combat and thus has claimed her as his betrothed, supplanting he who once held that honor" Meriel and Martin can note he bites his lip at that last admission. "He said that he was exiled from his country, and the waters of his realm taken away from him." Tohjava says. "Have you come to restore him to what was once his, or to drive him further away from the Twin Cities?" "That's... an interesting opinion he has of things," Martin says, not failing to note the body language. "We just want to talk, to see what he's doing. All of us have a time-honored tradition of staying out of each others' sphere of influence. However, he's about to intrude into ours." "You do not wish him to swim into your waters" Tojhava says sagely, with a nod. "You do not wish him to eat your fish and seafood." "And in addition," says Meriel, not unaware of Tohjava's body language either, "I would be interested in learning why he has contracted a partnering with another female." There is the very faintest stress on the word 'another', as Meriel lifts her hand and starts to examine her nails with extreme thoughtfulness. A couple of beats, and then she raises her wide eyes to look fully at Tohjava again. "Another female?" Tohjava looks surprised. "Do I take you to mean that you have a prior claim on him, Princess Meriel. That you have the Right of Breeding with Jaysen, over the Autarch's daughter?" "That's... an interesting opinion he has of things," Martin says, not failing to note the body language. "We just want to talk, to see what he's doing. All of us have a time-honored tradition of staying out of each others' sphere of influence. However, he's about to intrude into ours." "You do not wish him to swim into your waters" Tojhava says sagely, with a nod. "You do not wish him to eat your fish and seafood." "And in addition," says Meriel, not unaware of Tohjava's body language either, "I would be interested in learning why he has contracted a partnering with another female." There is the very faintest stress on the word 'another', as Meriel lifts her hand and starts to examine her nails with extreme thoughtfulness. A couple of beats, and then she raises her wide eyes to look fully at Tohjava again. "Another female?" Tohjava looks surprised. "Do I take you to mean that you have a prior claim on him, Princess Meriel. That you have the Right of Breeding with Jaysen, over the Autarch's daughter?" "That's why they're really here." murmurs Jystine, behind Martin and Meriel, a surprised tone in her voice. Godfrey says nothing, but the whirr of his gears has increased somewhat in volume. Now Meriel regards Tohjava as she would any Rebman male who had over-reached himself. "You question me?" she enquires coldly. Tohjava opens his mouth, and closes it. He might not be a Rebman male, and this might not be Rebma, but the rebuke has effect all the same. Resistance slowly starts to drain from his countenance. She allows that to sink in and then makes an elegantly flowing gesture. "Escort us to the the court," she says. "Now." Martin swims over to stand beside Meriel, posing a united front to Tohjava, but doesn't say anything; Meriel has obviously said everything that needs said. "Yes, Immediately." Tohjava says. He turns and waits for Meriel, Martin, Ostrom, Godfrey and Jystine to spring into motion, and then he is off. His pace is a relatively rapid one, as if the time for a stately and slow procession is long gone, and action is required. The walls are a mixture of the lighter stone seen in the antechamber, and the darker gabbros that marked the outside of the Autarchs palace. For the first time, Martin and Meriel see civilians--workers of both sexes scurrying about tasks. The forward wake of Tohjava is enough to get people to consider moving out of the way, the fact of Meriel, Martin, Jystine, Godfrey and Ostrom behind him is enough to make it happen. This trip through passages finally ends in a wide hallway. At the end of this hallway is a doorway, flanked by a brace of guards. Beyond, a large cylindrical room, extending above and below the level of the entrance, beckons. "Do you wish to be announced, or merely enter." Tohjava, says in a submissive, meek tone to Meriel., slowing down as they approach the doorway. Meriel glances at Martin. "What say you, coz?" she asks, mischief in her eyes. "Oh, announce us, by all means," Martin says. "Do you want all the titles? We could just do Prince Martin of Amber for me, and save you a lot of talking." "Prince Martin of Amber" Tohjava repeats with a nod. "How shall *they* be announced?" Tohjava says, indicating Godfrey and Ostrom. "I am Ostrom of the Clan Wettin " Ostrom says, puffing his chest. Tohjava repeats this in turn. Godfrey whirrs his gears. "My announcement would be up to Martin." He pauses. "Prince Martin" he amends. [Martin] looks back at Meriel. "Of course, your titles would be a little different. Maybe you should tell him." Tohjava turns toward Meriel expectantly. "Lady Meriel daughter of Mirelle, Bride of Rebma," Meriel replies. Her eyes glint a little in expectation. "Lady Meriel, Mirelle's daughter, Bride of Rebma." The last three words come awkwardly out of his mouth, but Tojhava finally manages it and nods. "As you wish." he says. He swims forward with shark like alacrity, speeding into the cylindrical room. His words are carried through the room, and beyond to where Meriel, Martin, Godfrey, Ostrom and Jystine wait. "My lord Autarch, and those of his Court." Tojhava says. He is slowly drifting in a circle, so that he faces the entire room by turns. "I have the honor to present to you our visitors. First, a creature of forged metal, who speaks and acts at the direction of those he serves. The Asawaran Jystine, whom is well known in this court, and Ostrom of Clan Wettin He is a merman, milord, of the type that has been reported beyond the Path. Most notably, they all have been brought here here by the Prince Martin of Amber and Lady Meriel, daughter of Mirelle, Bride of Rebma. They have come here, great Autarch, by the Path that the holy prophet Luthargo prophesied about before he disappeared...and the Path that Jaysen, the Man of Gold, He who is sworn to your daughter, speaks of to this day. The Lady Meriel would speak words to Jaysen. She has laid a claim upon him." "Bring them forward." comes a voice, after a few moments of indistinct murmuring. "Let them be seen." "Showtime." Jystine says softly. Martin swims in almost immediately, catching the layout and the room's occupants as quickly as possible, and especially marking where the Autarch and where supposedly Jason are located. He doesn't bow until Meriel is with him, so they can do it together. Meriel waits ... not long enough to leave Martin looking stranded, but long enough to make the point that here is someone you should be surreptitiously straightening your robes and smoothing your hair for.When she judges that people are - if not craning in an undignified way, then making strenuous efforts not to crane in an undignified way. Elizabeth Taylor, in Cleopatra, needed about a thousand extras playing slave to make her queenly entrance into Cinecetta's version of Rome. Meriel only has Jystine and Ostrom, but she makes Miss Taylor's attempt look paltry. The numerous people arranged three dimensionally in this large cylindrical room, after giving Martin the once over, stare in surprise at the royal entrance that Meriel effects on the populace. Preceding her, and more concerned with the layout of the room than overawing the inhabitants, Martin does have time and space to get a feel for the situation. The room is several times taller than it is wide or long, and the people in the room appear to be arranged, vertically, in a hierarchical fashion. Toward the top of the chamber, sitting in a net suspended from the ceiling, is a large, muscular sharkman, presumably the Autarch. This net glitters with precious stones embedded in knots in the fabric, giving the impression that the occupant of the net/hammock is sitting within a sphere of wealth. As for the Autarch himself. he does not wear much more than a pair of sashes that diagonally meet at his navel and wrap down his legs. Not far below him, floating in the column, are a pair of figures. One of whom is a female sharkwoman much like Jystine, with the same sort of martial bent, and a trident in her hands, tines pointed down. The other figure is the only one in the room who is not a sharkman. His skin is a golden color. his hair is white. Aside from that latter detail, his visage, bearing and countenance are all extremely familiar to Martin. Jayson It's not quite perfect, though, Martin notices. The nose is a little long. The eyes are set a little off from what Martin remembers. His mouth, as he turns his head to say something sotto voce to the Autarch, is not quite the right shape, either. There are about thirty other sharkmen in the room,of both genders, below Jayson and the sharkwoman who have pride of place. Some poor souls are below the level of the entrance, and so are forced to crane their necks upward to see the entrance. Tojhava, in the center of the room, is ostensibly watching the Autarch, and Jayson, but he does sneak glances in the direction of Meriel, Martin, Godfrey, Jystine and Ostrom. The spell that Meriel lays upon them doesn't quite dissipate when the Autarch speaks. "Speak, Prince Martin, and Lady Meriel" the Autarch booms. "What of this claim you lay upon my Vizier?" Meriel takes a long, liquid look around the assembled court before she answers. "Such matters are not for the small fry," she says calmly. "They are for the deep cave of command." "You presume much about my court, Lady Meriel." the Autarch replies. "I presume it is civilised and well-ordered," replies Meriel. "Do I mistake?" "No" The Autarch replies crisply. Martin is frowning at the Goldthing, working something out in his head. Probably the possibilities involved in the almost-copy above them. He leaves Meriel to answer the direct question; what he does say, softly, is, "Been a long time since Paris. Apollo. Neat trick, that." If Meriel catches his words, her expression of cool hauteur shows no alteration. "Paris? Trick?" The voice is Jayson's, that's for sure. Inflection and tone are correct. If he is feigning not to know what Martin means, he is making a good effort in doing that. "I know not these strangers, mighty Autarch." Jayson says, looking at the Autarch. "And yet they claim to know me. Perhaps, given what has occurred, brief words with them in suite would allow the silt and mud in the waters of this matter to settle and allow them clarity again." The Autarch gives a nod to Jayson and leads downward, focusing on Meriel and Martin, especially the former. "Very well. Not for the small fry. The two of you, Prince and Lady. Leave your thing of metal, the merman, my courtier, and the knight here and follow. They will stay here as trustees of good behavior." "Court is suspended. Come, my daughter, and Vizier" the Autarch declares and launches himself upward from his chair toward the ceiling of the room, Jayson following slowly in his wake. The Autarch's daughter swims by his side, keeping her pace to match his. Meriel glances at Ostrom and Jvstine, gives them a tight, encouraging nod, and then takes off swimming easily upwards, as confident in this three dimensional plane as she is on land. Built she is watching the Autarch, his daughter and Jayson closely to see how they handle themselves - or if they display exploitable weaknesses, as the guards did. Martin hesitates just a second before following. "Shout out if you need us," he says to Godfrey. "Loud enough that I can hear you." "Yes, Martin" Godfrey says slowly. And with that, he's up and swimming after the rest. Unlike Meriel's graceful ascent, Martin is all direct and compact, like a torpedo in the water. Martin can see the eyes of Jystine, Ostrom and Tohjava follow himself, and Meriel before him up and away from the midline of the room. His directness and compactness does allow him to close the distance that Meriel has as a headstart, until the two are keeping pace with each other. Meriel does note that unlike most of his subjects, the Autarch and his daughter are familiar and comfortable in a three dimensional plane, given the fluidity of their motion. If it came down to blows, either of them would be a dangerous opponent. Jayson, on the other hand, is a striking counterexample to this. He is floundering in the water with all the grace of a landbound human in an all-aquatic environment. Finally, the Autarch, his daughter, and Jayson exit the Court and travel through a mostly vertical, short tunnel, leading to a small room. A school of fish scatter as the Autarch seats himself on a chair less imposing than the one in the Throne Room. Jayson and the Daughter take up chairs just below them. There are several other chairs, Meriel and Martin noting that some of them have holes that seem designed for tailed visitors. "Be seated and tell your story." The Autarch commands. "Leave dissembling and distortion out of it." "I think I should say gentlemen first," says Meriel with a wicked glance at Martin. "For my cousins' acquaintance with each other goes back some years." "Does it?" the Autarch's daughter says archly. She looks at Jayson and then at Martin. "Peace, Uriana" the Autarch says. "Let him speak." He also shoots a warning glance at Jayson, who is starting at Martin and Meriel. "We speak of Jayson, son of Sand," Martin says. "My cousin, who was possessed by a being of power named Apollo. My cousin, who has the larger part of the known universe after his head. My cousin, who looks very, very much like this man here. "I don't even have to know the answer. Ask yourself who is moving your home, your world. Ask yourself if you know where it's even headed." "Our world moves between others in accordance with prophecy, not by any will of mine." The Autarch says. There is more than a little doubt in his tone. He looks at Jayson. "It is your turn to speak." "I do not know you, Prince Martin." Jayson says. "And yet your name, and the names you speak are names that have come to me in dreams. The lady Sand, the lord Apollo. Doubtless you know of the other names that haunt my dreams? Lord Delwin? Oliver? Alais? " "Perhaps even The Adversary, the demon Brand, dwelling in an icy hell?" At the name Brand, both the Autarch and his daughter Uriana make a sinuous gesture with their hands across their face. "You know of this demon?" asks Meriel. "What do you know?" That is addressed to the Autarch and Uriana Uriana seems ready to speak, but Meriel's whirling gaze stills her answer on her tongue. " ... but then her head shifts slightly and she is looking at the man-who-looks-like-Jayson. "And you know of this icy hell ... but you do not dream of the waters of Rebma?" Martin looks about to say something, but he lets the not-Jayson field this question before he adds anything. "It was Luthargo who dreamed of the waters of Rebma." Jaysen says defensively. "He was a prophet who came here before I did, talking about a grand future for this realm. He may have spoken of Rebma, wherever that is." "You said you were his heir, Jayson, and showed us proofs." The Autarch says. "Did you dissemble? These two seem to know you, though you claim to know them not, only these names of gods and demons." "The demon Brand has long been known here." the Autarch says imperiously. "He who lives in an icy hell, and would turn the waters of all realms to unswimmable ice. Is it not so in your Rebma and your Amber that your mothers suckle their babies on the fearful tale?" Martin's mouth twists into a rueful smile. "It's a little bit more complicated than that," he says. "Brand is my uncle. He also tried to stab me to death. Jayson is my cousin, and despite your appearance, you look different from him. It's a shame, 'cause I was going to try to talk some sense into you before you crashed this shadow into the brick wall of Reality." "What is a brick wall?" Urania asks, randomly. "A landie metaphor," says Meriel helpfully. "We would speak of the cliff face." Then she turns to Jaysan. "If you have been the chosen one for the Bride," says Meriel, sounding almost regretful, "you would have known all about Rebma. But ... no matter. I am sure he will make you a very good husband," she adds, her tone kindly now as she turns to Urania. "Even if he isn't quite who he claimed to be." "You speak of me as if you have dismissed me." Jaysen says. "As if I were some servant." His eyes flash. "Yes," says Meriel, raising her eyes to his face. "For who do you serve, one who looks so like our cousin?" "I serve the same power that the Prophet Luthargo served. I follow in his footsteps." Jaysen says. He regards Meriel and Martin with what must now be considered wariness. "Aha" Martin says. "He is not whom you expected to find, is he?" The Autarch says to Meriel and Martin. "Is our business therefore concluded?" Meriel glances at Martin, willing to take his lead in this - he knows Jaysen and the Apollo thing so much better. "A moment to speak with my companion here, o great Autarch." Martin says. He motions Meriel closer and speaks softly to her, his mouth nearly cupping her ear in an effort not to be overheard. "He's a shadow, maybe a shard, of Jayson and Apollo. A piece, not the whole. His confusion does not appear to be faked. It's too sincere. Talking sense would be a waste of time, stopping this shadow's movement toward Amber and Rebma is our primary objective, and this shard is what is propelling the shadow toward Amber. He might not even know he's doing it." "Ah," says Meriel. "Do you want to try to bend him to our will, or to kill him? I can do that, if you like." Her tone is calmly matter-of-fact. "The thing about Apollo" Martin says quietly "is that he, it, had a tendency to infect things. He infected Corwin's pattern and his universe No, if we leave him alive to try to bend him to our will, we're leaving him alive to possibly do that here, like black band disease on a reef in Rebma." "We kill him. Doesn't matter about these shark people, they look like they've been used as pawns. Another Apollo classic." "All right," said Meriel. "But if we do it here and now, they may not be happy. Let's at least try to get him away from here before we kill him. Otherwise we may have to take out half the Court and you *know* how I feel about shedding large amounts of blood. It really does pollute the water." "Fighting our way out of this citadel in that case might be difficult." Martin says. "Or at the very least, not without causing additional deaths as you say. If we can get him away from everyone else, you can finish the job. Maybe bring him with us." The Autarch shoots an impatient look at Martin and Meriel. "We better come up with a plan quickly. Think you can get Jaysen peeled away from that shark woman and follow you?" Martin then stifles a laugh. "Of course you can. What do you need from me to do that?" "There is another way," says Meriel, "if you think I can prevail. Tell them that the insult to the Bride of Rebma must be appeased by blood combat - me versus him," She gives her cousin a very direct look. "It's how he won the Autarch's daughter, after all. Of course, he defeated her." Martin laughs. "Of course I think you can prevail. We already know they don't think in three dimensions. And even if Jaysen can, and that's how he won, you're a better swimmer. Did you see how poorly he swam coming here." "I'll make sure there is no interference." Martin adds with a grin. "Your highness." he says, turning to look at the Autarch. "The Princess' honor must be appeased. She will now speak. Hear her words." He floats slightly away and gestures to Meriel. "This man," says Meriel, looking directly at Jaysen, "has committed a grave offence against me, and against the land of Rebma. He has become affianced to another. It is not your daughter's fault," and now she looks fully at the Autarch, "that she has, in all honour, pledged herself to one who is a betrayer of all that is true. But my honour - and hers - can only be redeemed by a duel to the death - between the Bride of Rebma and the false prophet who sits there. I stand ready." "A duel to the death?" Jaysen is incredulous, dismissive and utterly taken aback. "Your highness..." he looks at the Autarch. "If this is all true, and I would gamble that the Princess would lay her word to the truth of her words, this is a serious broach of trust, Jaysen. Even if you are the second prophet, even if you have given prophetic counsel, to violate the honor of nobility is not to be tolerated." "It would be bad precedent" the Autarch adds. "You will have your duel and this matter settled forever." Meriel notes the look of satisfaction coming across the face of the Autarch's daughter. As Jaysen is the party challenged, he has the right of weapons." the Autarch continues. Jaysen looks at Meriel carefully. "Tridents, lord. Tridents shall be the weapon of choice." Meriel starts, her eyes widening. "Tr ... tridents?" she gasps. "But .... " For a moment she looks meltingly helpless, a creature who might handle a knife, but never a cumbersome heavy trident. A look of satisfaction crosses Jaysen's face. "One hour to prepare, and the combat, with Tridents, to the death, shall be in the main chamber below. Agreed?" The Autarch looks at Meriel. Meriel nods, twisting her hands in front of her a little. "Tridents, then," she says forlornly. Martin, she is sure, is not deceived. But she hopes to have wrong-footed the Autarch and his court. "We shall return to the main chamber, and the participants shall withdraw to quarters..." "Milord Autarch, it might be best if Meriel is offered a trident so that she might practice with the weapon before the combat. This would make the combat fairer." Martin says with a smile. The Autarch looks at Jaysen. The latter shrugs. "I have no objections." "Then a trident will be given to you not long after you are given quarters, Princess Meriel." The Autarch claps his hands. Jaysen bows, as does the ruler's daughter, and the two of them swim downward, back toward the main chamber. "Tridents. I cannot believe it." Martin says to Meriel, pitching his voice just a tad loudly. "I know," says Meriel forlornly. "We should go to these private quarters. Perhaps ... you will be able to give me a few tips." She makes a splendid show of pulling herself up and facing a terrible future gallantly. "May we be escorted to our quarters?" she says to the Autarch. But she is watching him carefully, reading his expression. "Yes, after the announcement in the main chamber." The Autarch does not slow his swimming in answering Meriel's question. In short order, the Autarch is back on his throne, flanked by his daughter and Jaysen. "Here me, O Court!" he announces. "A challenge to the death, a matter of honor has been issued by the Princess Meriel to our advisor Jaysen. They shall face each other with tridents, here, in one hour. They now go to rest and prepare." "Tohjava!" he calls into the room. The courtier, still next to Ostrom and Godfrey calls back. "Milord?" "Escort Princess Meriel to one of the spare quarters and see to her needs until the combat occurs." "Milord." Tohjava swims upward toward Meriel and Martin, Ostrom and Godfrey swimming behind him. Jystine follows in turn. "This way." he gestures to Meriel and Martin to follow him "And may I say that I am surprised at the choice of weapon?" "Really?" asks Meriel, her eyes wide and guileless in one of her most melting expressions. "Why is that, honourable Tohjava?" "A trident is a symbol of the Autarchy" Tohjava says. He looks at Jystine. "He is correct" Jystine says. "It's a political statement, as much as Jaysen figures to try to use the weapon to gain a physical advantage over you." Ostrom snickers. "He would have done better to choose sharpened sea shells while fighting within a squid's ink cloud." Martin just smiles. "Shall I compute the probabilities of battle scenario successes, Martin?" Godfrey asks, with a whirr of gears. "Not in public" Martin says. "Once we are alone." The look that Meriel shoots Godfrey is not at all melting. In short order, though, Tohjava has led Meriel to a relatively large room oriented in two dimensions. Chairs and benches of coral are scattered through the space, and a small school of iridescent fish lazily circle near the ceiling. There are no other furnishings. "Any preferences on your trident, or anything else?" Tojhava asks Meriel. "I'm not sure I can get you into the armory, though, to see for yourself." Meriel if looking around the room, frowning slightly, but when she turns back to Tojhava, he can see her expression of helplessness and strain. "A ... a light one?" she asks quaveringly, and then turns to Martin. "Cousin - what would you recommend?" She trusts that he remembers her fighting style sufficiently to request her ideal. To Meriel, it's all about the balance of the weapon, although the precision of detail she would like to request "I need the three prongs placed at two crab claws apart with a length of eight claws and tips made of burnished cressite tipped with silver and a double cross weave haft hold" might betray that familiarity with the weapon she is anxious to avoid. "Around 60-65 inches, and 5 pounds. We don't want anything heavier, for Meriel." Martin says to Tohjava. "It would be ideal if we could get a selection of tridents, if that might be possible, longer, shorter, heavier and lighter, around those figures, but we'll trust your judgement." Tohjava nods, and exits the room in short order, promising a swift return. Jystine looks at Meriel. "I have faced you in battle. Your prevarications are transparent to me." she says with a smile. Ostrom grins as well. "You must forgive Godfrey." Martin says to Meriel. "He doesn't understand the deception." "I do not." Godfrey admits. Meriel spares a smile for Godfrey, although she's not entirely sure if he appreciates it. "I'll explain later" Martin says to Godfrey. "Now," she says to Jystine, "you have seen Jaysun fight, I think. Tell me about it - his technique, his strengths, his weaknesses." She glances up at the fish circling overhead, wondering how sentient they are. Killing them, she feels, might be something of an over-reaction. And the Autarch may have other ways of obtaining information. "Tohjava, as a creature of the Court, would be better than I am at this." Jystine admits, sitting on one of the brain corals that serves as a seat. "Remember when we met that I told you that I prefer to operate away from Court, and return only at need, as fitting my rank." "Still, I have seen Jaysen fight." Jystine says. "I thought you would." Martin says quietly. "Yes. He was challenged to prove that he was the heir to the Prophet by force of arms, by those who believed him not." Jystine explains. "And the way he won the Autarch's daughter was by force of arms." "He does not fight with skill or grace, but he fights with strange arcane ability." Jystine continues. "He swims not at all well, but the strikes of his trident are amplified with what he calls the holy light of the god he serves. And it shields him, too, at least it did once. Endhiran stabbed him cleanly, in the chest, but the golden light turned the blade, as the shell of the great sea turtle will turn a knife of soft metal." "Rope-a-dope" Martin says. "He sounds like a slow tank. Keep out of his range, and let him expend himself." Meriel nods. "And use the third dimension too, if he's a slow swimmer," she adds. "There's a possibility that the Autarch's daughter wanted to lose too - to become the bride of the Prophet's heir is an impressive power play." "That's...an interesting idea." Jystine admits. She shoots a quizzical look at Godfrey. "You can share your assessment of the odds now," she says, "before Tohjava returns. I'm sure telling the Autarch all that passes will be amongst his duties, guests though we are. There are limits on the laws of hospitality, especially when they've declared an intent to kill one of your most trusted advisers." "I have been assimilating the new data shared by the Jystine." Godfrey says. "I have completed an updated assessment based on two scenarios." Godfrey turns his head toward Martin, who gives a nod. With a whirr of gears, Godfrey continues. "Without the use of anything besides force of arms..." Godfrey says. "The probability of your success is rated at 59%. If you employ arcane abilities of your own, the probability rises to 79%" "Only 59%?' Martin says. "Explain." Godfrey responds. "If Jaysen has arcane abilities as suggested by Jystine, the probability of him using them against Princess Meriel is near to unity. Meriel's skill with arms, no matter how well developed, may not be able to prevail against such powers, unless she strikes quickly enough to prevent him from employing them." "Kill him quickly, or be prepared for a long drawn out contest he might win." Martin says. "I mislike it, a strong offense might be easily turned against you." Ostrom folds his arms and looks at Meriel. "Easy for you to fall into a trap." Meriel nods. "I was expecting the former," she says. "If he is using arcane power, that would dramatically lower my chances. But even with all my and Martin's abilities, we'll only get up to 79%? That does surprise me." "It is a conservative estimate of your abilities." Godfrey says. "It also reflects his ability to succeed in this environment despite his origins. His skills must be considerable." "And it presumes no interference from Martin." he adds after a whirr of gears. "Did I err in my calculations, Martin?" Godfrey asks Martin. Martin doesn't answer, letting Meriel continue. Then she smiles. "I do, of course, have other powers that might be harder for Godfrey to analyse. A flirtatious glance seems singularly wasted on him. Jason might be ... a little more susceptible." "Godfrey brings up a good point." Martin says. "How fair a fight do you want, Meriel, once the battle is joined? Do you want us to intervene if he proves, beyond all expectations, to be immune to your..." Martin pauses. "Charms is the word you search for." Jystine says dryly. "Indeed." Ostrom agrees. Backlinks |
