LikeMournersAtTheirOwnFuneral[continued from The Midnight Circus] As the day’s last seconds ticked away, Random remained stock still – his gaze distant. His hands rested on the table, knuckles white with exhaustion and worry. His siblings busied themselves looking anywhere but him, each dealing with the mounting tension in their own way. Across the hall, a clock sounded – its gears whirring and clicking into action. Its bells resonated through the silent Grand Hall. For an instant, the group felt their skin shiver – the cool caress of change sinking it them. But after what seemed like a lifetime, the second bell strike washed over them. Then the third. And the fourth. And nothing changed. No ripple of air. No stink of corruption. No bleeding walls or wailing monstrosities. The Midnight Hour rang out. And the world remained completely. . . normal. The only change – if it could be called that – they experienced was the now-strange familiarity of their bodies and thoughts settling into peacefulness, stability. The unnerving sense of duality fading into memory. After the last bell, Random coughed, nervous. “Well. I’m going to assume we’re not in some alternate Hellscape.” He glanced around for confirmation. "Not that I can perceive, Your Majesty," Temnal confirmed. "I don't know about my companions," Pelageya spoke. "I feel better than I have since Gillian repaired the Pattern." She was standing, her hands spread, getting the feel of this, the environment, herself. "There was a transition point, an inflection, certainly. Midnight still matters," she said. "Did the Hour happen without us?" She looked around for a sign that the Midnight Hour had occurred without them, that they had all skipped over it. "I for one will be content to wait till the morning to find that out," Temnal noted dryly. The fading bells soon became a memory. And life went on. In many ways, it reminded Pelageya and Cole of that one blessed night in Rebma. . . when they’d escaped the torments of hell, if only to have them soon duplicated by Mother. Gillian sighed and took a healthy drink of her wine. Having found his seat in the last few seconds leading up to the end of the night, Cynwyd felt a sense of ... well, he didn't really know how to name it. For him, at least, the fact that the Hour did not arrive was not a respite. It just made the foreboding he'd felt since Gillian had 'fixed' reality all the more heavy. He sat back in his chair, his drink untouched, and looked around the table. "I'm perfectly happy to celebrate the complete lack of anything whatsoever," Cole said. He raised his glass. "Here's to the end of an Hour." Pelageya raised her glass at this. Random breathed out a sigh of relief; a feeling shared by the others at the table. Nods and smiles appeared amongst the Family. They were short-lived, as the King slumped back into his hard chair. He pinched his nose, taking a quiet moment. Finally, he leaned forward; his composure resolute. Perhaps, for the first time, he looked like a King. “Well, that’s one problem solved then,” Random said. “But there are several more issues to address. I know you’ve all been through hell. And that times are infinitely strange. But Amber needs you still. The Family needs you still. And you are all family here." Most of us, Pelageya said to herself, but she smiled. [Random] “For the time being, we can dispense with the formal recognitions. Besides, I’m certain some – if not all – of you would like to approach your new titles delicately as possible. That said, you have my fullest confidence, and that of my staff. How you survive amongst the Family. . . well, that’s something you’ll have to tend to on your own level. As have we all.” Gillian looked down into her lap. [Random] folded his hands together, glancing around the table at his peers. “Before I inform you of the situation in the Golden Circle, is there any news I need to be made aware of?” Pelageya thought of the Dragon, still sleeping, waiting to be freed. She thought of her plans and desires for Rebma and Chaos. Of the alliance she had forged with the Baroness. That last was clear, however, and didn't need to be explicated. And she said nothing, instead turning her head to her compatriots in silent question. "I do wonder where Malachi is," Temnal said. Random nodded in his direction, “He’s on King’s Business, as it were. Not to worry. If he’s needed here, I’ll call for him.” "I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but there is another situation at hand," Gillian said, looking past Vialle to meet Random's eye. "According to Dworkin, the Nyx is coming. It was signaled sometime during our last stand in the Dark Hour and now it's on its way." Pelageya swallowed thickly but remained standing. Flora smiled politely at her, whispering, “Do sit, dear. I think it best for now.” Reluctantly, she returned to her seat. Random leaned back, exhaling. “Well, if that isn’t the turd in my punchbowl.” Cole looked involuntarily at his goblet, then set it aside. Caine, Gerard, and Flora stared at Gillian, as if awaiting further information. Fiona set her glass aside, “You are certain of this? And how was the Shining Eye summoned, exactly?” "An aspect of Eric summoned it. The boy Pharos," [Gillian] added for the benefit of her companions. "In essence, he was an avatar of Eric's curse. I was hoping that the edits to the Primal Pattern would stop however the boy planned to call for the Nyx, but to no avail, apparently. "I believe that Oberon didn't die when he fixed the Pattern. I think he saw what Pharos planned and sacrificed himself to protect Amber from the Fall if and when it happened. He became an embodiment of The Hanged Man trump. "It appears that he didn't survive the repairing process." Fiona leaned forward, “What do you mean he sacrificed himself?” The last word dripped like poison from her tongue. “I washed and wrapped his body, sister. I witnessed the torments wrought upon him.” Random held up his hand, “Don’t start, Fiona. We’ve buried Caine more times than I care to think of.” Caine smiled innocently behind his wine glass. “Death is only the beginning.” Random added, “We are more than Flesh. Father more so.” "He wasn't included in the repairing process," Cole said. "He barely held back the curse until we got there, and suffering was all of him that remained. That, and the floor was disintegrating beneath him." His face went pale. "I suppose I could have cut him down. I wish I'd thought of that." "Tell them the rest," Cynwyd said. Temnal sat very still, wondering what "the rest" might be. Indeed, this inspired much attention around the table – all of it focused on Cole. Cole swallowed. "Having seen what the old bastard was willing to do to himself to preserve Amber, I can't feel as badly about something as petty as murdering a couple of his own sons. He deserved to be done with his suffering, and it didn't seem necessary anymore. So I ended it." An uproar of shouts and accusations erupted, all directed in Cole’s direction. Rhea immediately leapt to his defense, but her voice was drowned out. The Family reignited old angers, old jealousies, hurling words at one another like a pack of snarling wolves vying for the best piece of meat. Exhaustion and confusion reigned, stripping away any veneer of civility. No one was safe. The din continued like a storm until a massive thunderclap shook the entire table – startling everyone into silence. Now standing, Random had left a hand print in the table’s iron-hard wood. “Enough! Damn you all. Enough.” The Fool had gone; only the King remained. He stared down anyone foolish enough to speak. “None of you were there. Nor I. But had I been, I suspect I would have made the same choice. And I loved our Father. It matters not. What’s done is done. It cannot be changed through barbed tongues and heated words. “Now we deal with the consequences. Not as we always do, but as we must do. Is that understood?” His gaze speared Fiona, “Is that understood?” Fiona bowed her head, submissive. “Yes, my King.” Cole squeezed Rhea's hand. He wasn't sure if he was comforting her or himself, and didn't care. Random remained standing, “Good. So, if Father sacrificed himself to prevent the Nyx from being summoned initially, I gather the same thing cannot be replicated – now that this thing is on its way here.” He glanced at Gillian for confirmation. She nodded. Pelageya remained quiet. She was the outsider here from every angle. Being a clown fish would not do, but this was a space to listen, to learn, to watch. She turned her head toward Gillian to do all three. Cole spoke. "So this boy, Pharos, called the Nyx here. Maybe he can be persuaded to call it somewhere else. Or maybe we can learn from him what drives the thing, and how to direct it elsewhere." "That would assume we had the faintest idea of how to find Pharos," Temnal noted. "Nor do I think he would be susceptible to persuasion. He wants oblivion, and that's what the Nyx is." Gillian shook her head. "The Nyx problem can't be solved by redirecting her elsewhere. Her whole purpose is to consume shadows and the billions of souls that go along with them so she can get stronger and consume more shadows. Eventually she would come to Amber. Again. "I believe that the best time to confront her is when she first manifests and is the weakest. We can use The Hanged Man True Trump--the true essence of sacrifice--to close the Way and send her back and if we're lucky, we can do this without turning the activator of the Trump into another Great Seal like Oberon." Random smiled, wanly. “If such a thing could be accomplished, I’d be most grateful. As would my wife and daughter.” Vialle reached out to touch his shoulder, “Surely, you wouldn’t…” Rhea cringed, “Dad?” Random wrapped his hand around Vialle’s, “My love. It would have to be me. I am King. My responsibility is to Amber.” Vialle’s voice darkened, “Random…” “No. We will speak of this later,” he said, cutting her off. He placed a gentle kiss on her cheek, whispering something – something tender and calming, but not enough to dispel her tears. Cole watched this exchange carefully, but said nothing. "Would sending her back lead to the same outcome?" Pelageya asked. "And where would this confrontation take place? Physically? Spiritually? We know where she would have manifested before --Tartarus. Now, though, what would Nyx's exit point be? Where will the current of the summons bring her?" "I will admit that this is conjecture, but it's based both on what has happened before and what Dworkin said today. I mean yesterday. Look, I know," [Gillian] continued to Pelageya, holding her hands in front of her. "He doesn't appear to be in any more of a saner frame-of-mind than before--told me to call him 'Tim'--but I'm really beginning to wonder how much of that is an act. Gerard nodded to her, “Aye, lass. I’ve long thought the Old Man more cunning than mad.” Caine snorted, “Either way, he’s dangerous. In more ways than even I can fathom.” Pelageya gave a nod of agreement. [Gillian] "Anyway. To answer your questions: I think sending her back before she has time to gain any strength will make her quiescent again. You remember our conversation with Etrosk? He told us he and his brethren were successful in sending the Nyx back after she destroyed the first Amber. "Da," Pelageya said to Gillian. She had not forgotten the dragon, and the potential he represented. Gillian turned toward Random and continued, "I suppose the confrontation would take place in all of the above. I believe the summons will bring her to the Primal Pattern, since that is where the call is originating." Caine leaned forward, “Could this Nyx be redirected at the last moment? A skirmish in the Arden is one thing. One in the Primal Pattern is another entirely.” Random nodded, “Agreed. The least populated area would be best. There’s no telling what damage she can inflict, even if she Manifests for a moment or two. We’ve all seen the Abyss and its surroundings.” A general murmur of unease passed through the Family. "But what attracts a force of destruction and entropy?" Pelageya wondered aloud. "If it is a summons, Da, that the boy used, can that summons not be duplicated, somehow, and thus led like Arion and the dolphins, to a new location?" Cole shuddered. "I'm sorry," he said to Pelageya. "It's just that, well, it's very strange to hear Joao speech patterns coming from your bod..., er, voice." Pelageya gave him a smile, and then her eyes flickered to Rhea. Yours, her eyes seemed to say to Random's daughter. I respect your claim on him. Rhea stared back, unflinching. She offered a shark’s smile; the Rebman in her unmistakable at that moment. A faint nod and she’d accepted the unspoken words – their positions well-established. Cole's eyes flickered back and forth between them, unsure what was going on. He gave an involuntary twitch, then continued. [Cole] "Anyway, I think you're asking the same thing I just asked. Which leads us back to Pharos, and a number of other questions related to him. Why did he call the Nyx? I can understand that Eric's curse had horrible consequences for those attacking Amber, but how could it possibly have led to this boy-creature manifesting from himself and it deciding to call the most horrible thing in existence to destroy Amber? Eric died defending Amber: if this Pharos is an aspect of Eric, why does he want Amber destroyed?" "We all carry within us parts of us that seem very different than what we show." [Pelageya] ran her hand up and down from her throat to the level of the table. "Sometimes those parts manifest. The loving wife, who carries a seed of madness, and kills her husband, feeding him to the sharks for his infidelity. That part was always within her, was it not? Or the seed of same? I was more asking on the mechanics--what was his method of summoning the Nyx, more than his reasons, though." Gillian thought back to her conversation with Pharos as they stood beside the Primal Pattern. "My talk with the boy was...circular. He said his existence was affirmation of the Fall, and that his Purpose--he said it with a capital 'P,'—was to call the Nyx and cleanse the corruption of the realm—in which he meant Amber, not the Dark Hour—and free the souls trapped there. He added that his sins must be cleansed, and the voice he used when he said that was no longer a boy's, but an adult's." She looked bemused by this. Rhea glanced around the table, nervous. Then she coughed to interrupt. “Pharos, I suspect, was created by the Jewel of Judgment at the time of King Eric’s death. Memories, desires, fears, and subconscious thoughts – fragments of his soul – reshaped into. . . something else. Forgive my saying so, but King Eric was not a forward thinker. He allowed emotion to rule him. Pharos would be the same, if not worse. If he believed he was cleansing his sins, he might not understand the consequences there of. Or care.” Fiona looked down the table at her niece, “What do you mean? How do you know this?” Rhea remained silent, until her Father nodded for her to expound further. “The Ghost City. . . I saw things there. I watched Eric die.” She shivered and rubbed her shoulders. Cole wrapped an arm around her. She curled into him, unapologetically. “Thank you,” she whispered. "Eric said he was the Nyx's avatar," Cole remembered aloud. "He said it was his punishment, for what he'd done to Corwin. But that doesn't make much sense to me. Maybe he was making some guilt-based inferences, rather than actually knowing." “Eric suffered regrets for his decision; this I know,” Random said. “But for all his guilt, I doubt it would have driven him to self-destruction. His vanity outweighed any culpability.” A shrug. “That said, I also doubt that his imprisonment in the Dark Hour left him unaffected.” Given the outburst that had occurred when Cole had told of Oberon's death, he decided it wasn't prudent to volunteer anything further of his encounter with Eric. "The mechanism he's using to call the Nyx is some sort of beam of trump energy or conjuration energy coming off the Primal Pattern and shooting off into shadow," Gillian continued. "Cybele had not seen anything like it, and Dworkin wasn't very illuminating on the topic either." "I don't suppose there's any obvious way to either interfere with or shift that?" Temnal queried. "Perhaps with the Jewel..." Gillian glanced in Random's direction. Random tapped his chin, thoughtful. “Possible. The Jewel can be used to change Aspects of Amber. Even if we alter the Manifestation zone slightly, it’d help avoid major damage.” He considered this; a wry snort escaping him. “There’s always Benedict’s gardens. Wide area, secluded. And well within range of the castle’s defense system. Although, I’d rather face down an unstoppable avatar of Oblivion than tell him his cherry trees were eaten.” Vaille’s empty gaze drifted over the gathering. “The First Amber.” Random cocked his head, “Dear?” Caine clapped his hands, “Brilliant, my Queen. Absolutely brilliant. Random, you’re wife is a genius.” She smiled at the praise, and then explained. “I believe Ms. Talbot has confused the First City in Chaos with the first Castle Amber, here. King Oberon built the First Amber after Dworkin’s exodus from the Courts. Little more than a motte and bailey to defend against their enemies. It was destroyed centuries ago, but the ruins remain. Roughly quarter mile from here?” Gillian opened her mouth and raised a finger, but people kept right on talking. Caine nodded, “Indeed. Just beyond the stables.” Random shook his head, “I don’t understand.” Fiona and Rhea both chuckled to themselves, realizing what the Queen intended. Vaille smiled shyly, “I’m not learned in magick, but I believe those more mystically-inclined would agree it possesses an ‘arcane connection’? The key component in sympathetic magick. "I may be wrong, but could not the Jewel be used to bolster that connection, thus making it 'appear' more like the castle in which we now sit. . . the intended target of this entity?” "It does seem like it ought to be good enough," Cole said, "in my expert magickal opinion. And speaking of good enough, Gillian, did you find out anything from Bob about how Oberon made himself into a totem? I mean, specifically, does it have to be occupied by the king?" He patted his sword hilt. "Because I don't think this pig sticker is going to matter much when that thing shows up, but maybe there's something else useful I can do." Gillian shook her head. "The particulars of that topic didn't come up in our conversation. Cole, we're trying to avoid anyone becoming another totem." Cole shrugged, "Hey, you don't have to twist my arm. I don't want it either." Rhea breathed a sigh of relief, “Well, I’m glad to hear that. For one moment there, I thought you were volunteering.” She grinned and kissed his hand. "Not exactly," he replied. "But better me than your father." [Gillian] turned to look at Random, her expression less Gillian to king, and more older sister to younger brother. "Cybele made those trumps. No one here better understands what that trump represents than we do, so it should be us that contacts The Hanged Man. We have the best chance of succeeding and coming through...unscathed. The best use of your talents and abilities lie in using the Jewel to lure the Nyx to the First Amber and away from the Primal Pattern. Sire." “I, for one, prefer a highly probably chance of death versus inescapable death any day,” Random quipped. “So, let us focus on your approach, shall we?” Gillian nodded in agreement and lowered her eyes. Still distracted, Cynwyd had been silent, pondering the discussion as it unfolded with all of the grave consideration he could find in the bottom of his glass. But Cole's words brought him back to the here and now, and bade him to speak up. "Cole's words do bring up an interesting puzzle that I'd not been able to unravel. The place where Oberon set the seal- where was that? Was there a reason that he chose that as the place for the seal? Something that we're missing?" "For one thing," Cole pointed out, "we're missing that place. The floor fell out from under it. But I think... I think it was somehow the Dark Hour's version of the First Amber.There was a chapel there to the Unicorn, and Finndo recognized it. But it was on top of Tartarus, which doesn't make much sense." Gerard rapped his fingers on the table lightly – sounding like a clatter of horse hooves. “The First Church of the Unicorn was destroyed, along with most of the castle. Our Father wept over its ruins for days. Or so it is said.” Flora nodded, “Yes. That is the legend.” Fiona added, “Your Dark Hour appeared to be some twisted Reflection of Amber. It may have contained Aspects from several periods in the City’s history. Affected and shaped by the minds of those trapped within. Including my father. Also, I believe your descriptions referred to a Tower with the temple at its pinnacle? A reflection, as it were, of Castle Amber stretching into Kolvir with the Pattern chamber deep below.” Rhea tugged her ear, looking over at Cynwyd. “This may be foolish. But Tartarus sounded more like an ‘emotionally’ formulated construct. A purgatory. A place for souls to be punished. What if it also trapped part of Amber’s soul? As discussed in the core principles of animism, the City itself is ‘alive,’ as it were. It possesses ancestral memories and spirit. Maybe Oberon was protecting Amber itself.” Gillian raised her eyebrows, impressed at Rhea's insight. "You and me, we need to have tea sometime. Assuming we survive this." Rhea smiled back at her, nodding. “I’d like that.” "You might want to pick a different beverage," Cole replied. "I've been assured that her tea is 'bitter as death.'" Rhea frowned and thumped his arm; almost exactly like her mother had with the King. “Not my fault you have a weak constitution, dear.” Gillian looked away from their banter, looking a little uncomfortable. "Then how did Tartarus get constructed in the first place?" Cole asked. "Was it constructed by some entity deliberately, or was it a side effect of Eric's curse?" [Cynwyd] "It's all well and good to redirect the Nyx, and the plan for that seems sound. But the plan for containing it seems a bit more sketchy." "The first step is to get it to appear where there is less, how do you say, collateral damage," Pelageya said. "If this gambit of sympathetic magic to lure it to the ruins of the old Castle can work, that part is covered, da." She pursed her lips. "The Nyx is a force of destruction, of annihilation." One corner of Temnal's mouth twitched up. "It's like one of those perennial questions of alchemy: If you do discover the universal solvent, what are you going to keep it in? Random snorted, smiling across the table. The other Elders were less amused. The King smiled slightly, “We have access to some of the most powerful martial and magically-inclined minds in Creation. As well as the resources to boot. I’m sure we can find something to keep it contained or occupied for a moment or two.” Then, he pouted, “I may have to rob from into my personal Shadow of Infinite Duct-Tape though. I hate being King.” This gained another polite thump from his wife. "How does one, as Cynwyd says, contain utter annihilation? I do not think we can destroy it, but if we can return Nyx to the Abyss..." [Pelageya] looked thoughtful again. "Can we redirect where it will appear, and prevent it from full manifestation in some manner? In the moment of arrival, somehow? Etrosk and his allies sacrificed much, too much, to seal her the first time once unleashed. We need to do better than he did." "Would they fight her again, do you suppose?" Cole asked. Caine sipped his drink, “The enemy of my enemy is my friend, as it were?” "You're assuming they still exist," Temnal said quietly, thinking of his Lady. Fiona nodded with him, “Indeed. Many of the Deepwalkers have perished over the Ages, due to their mortal nature.” Flora – never known for wisdom – did ask one possibly important question. “Would we want several large and powerful dragons in Amber?” "One of them is already hanging out on Kolvir," Gillian said. Random blinked, “Unicorn’s ass, do you ever have good news?” He smirked at her, winking playfully. She looked back at him and shrugged expansively. [Random] turned to Gerard, “You need to be more attentive old man. A dragon on my doorstep?” "It depends on what they want," Cole said. "If Amber's destruction would impact them as well, and they are wise enough to understand that, I'd expect them to fight for their own survival. Of course, after the Nyx is defeated, they might themselves become a threat. But it seems like they'd most likely just kill us, rather than erase our very existence, which I find somewhat preferable." "We've already fought one dragon," Cynwyd reminded. "And that wasn't an experience that I wanted to repeat anytime in any lifetime." "That was one of the soul-prison monsters created by our predecessors," Temnal pointed out. "The one Gillian is talking about is a real dragon, so to speak ... or that's what I'm given to understand. I don't know how much difference that would make in fighting it, but it might make a difference as to whether we could count on it as an ally." Caine lit up a cigar, frowning. “The one I fought during PatternFall killed over five thousand men before we felled it. They are not something to be trifled with. But if it could be turned to our design, it would far outweigh anything we currently have in the arsenal.” He puffed, “I’m sure we can offer it a Shadow of meat as payment.” "Pelageya—well, back when she was Joao—was considering Etrosk as a familiar," Gillian announced. "Etrosk had started the ritual with Joao's father, but hadn't finished it and the whole affair left the dragon in a sort of inbetween state from which he desires to be freed. His help against the Nyx in return for finishing the ritual could possibly used as a bargaining chip." She turned to look at Pelageya. She nodded to Gillian. "The status of Etrosk is something I have wondered about, in the wake of the rewriting of the Pattern." she said. "The rewriting of the pattern by Gillian may have changed things further," Pelgaeya said. She turned and looked at Random. "Sire, I believe you were going to tell us of the changes in the Golden Circle?" Random nodded to her, “The Golden Circle appears to have shifted forward in technological paradigms. Most are now having industrial revolutions, roughly equivalent to the end of 19th Century Shadow Earth. Also magick paradigms appear to have leapt, as well. While this has had a positive effect on education, health, and social standing, it has also transformed a powder keg into a ticking time-bomb. Leaders, once timid or cautious, have become emboldened. Nationalism is rampant. And tempers short. “Throw into this mess my nephew, Rindalo. He has begun his rounding up katayan civilians. Many are currently escaping over the borders into Amber. He has launched attacks on Eraegnor and mobilizing against Begma. The number of alliances being called upon are… complicated. All eyes look to Amber now. Seeing which side we’ll fall on. “Including the Matriarchy in Rebma. They’re waiting to stab us in the back the moment we mobilize.” He pinched his nose, “So, the Nyx’s arrival is a tad inconvenient at the moment.” Gillian chewed on her lip. "The Baroness... Last I talked to her she was pro-Amber and pro status-quo, as that state of affairs seemed best for the Courts. As Avatar of the Logrus, she could be a potentially very powerful ally. If you think you can trust her." Cynwyd barked a laugh. "Did you actually just say trust and Avatar of the Logrus in the same sentence?" Gillian glared at him. "I said 'if.' And at least I'm offering suggestions." "The Baroness is my patroness," Pelageya said, a defensive tone rising in her voice. "I can certainly speak to her. And, earlier, she did save us from being annihilated. She is no friend to The Nyx." Cynwyd's eyes narrowed at that admission from Joao-with-breasts. Though that might be a misnomer, thinking of her in that way kept other... disturbing thoughts out of his mind. "She is no 'friend to anyone', as well you know if she is 'now' your patroness. Or if you don't know that, you should learn it quickly. She can be counted on to act in whatever manner is her best interest at the time- alliances be damned. And that should be news to no one." "Nevertheless, she is very powerful and learned, and if her goals are the same as ours... How much does it matter if we trust her, if she can help us prevent the destruction of everything?" Temnal pointed out. "What comes after is just as important as there being an after- some would say more important," Cynwyd replied. Caine nodded to this, “Indeed. The Baroness does have a continuing affection for our young nephew. I believe they share a child together. Perhaps we can use that as an incentive. I could arrange for the child to be ‘protected’ until the danger of the Nyx problem has been resolved.” Random frowned, “I’d rather not use members of the Family as bargaining chips.” He sighed, looking down at his hands. “Even so, desperate times call for desperate measures. As much as I hate to say it, keep an eye on the bastard child. . . if Solataire decides her position here is untenable, she’ll more than likely grab the kid. It’ll give us fair warning. And then we can discuss common interests.” The words left a bad taste in his mouth. Caine nodded, “Yes, sire.” He glanced over at Pelageya, eyes narrowing. He said nothing, but she could sense the hidden threat there. Warn the Baroness and I’ll know it was you. Pelageya swallowed thickly. "Has there been any news of Perondor?" Cole asked the king. Random wrung his hands, “The Grey informs me that Perondor is about to be annexed by Rebma, if not already. Prince Deric disappeared during a recent trade mission, and is likely being held hostage until he can be married to a Rebman noblewoman. Our seaward neighbors are in desperate need for lumber to expand their navy, as their bio-ships cannot survive in most paradigms.” He paused, “Your mother is in good health. And will likely remain so. They have no reason to harm her while Deric is alive.” Rhea glanced up at Cole, squeezing his wrist. “I’m sorry.” "They're going to regret that," Cole growled. "Mom won't negotiate for return of hostages, nor recognize any marriage claims made under duress. She's likely to decide that her best alternative to negotiation is to assume that Deric is dead, and the appropriate response, to prevent any more hostages being taken in the future, is to send the entire fleet to bomb Rebma to smithereens." He turned to Pelageya. "If there's anyone you still care about in Rebma, you might pass that along." Pelageya gave a nod to Cole. "Da." She looked pensive. He squeezed Rhea's hand in return. "I'm sorry too. I know you have family there. Actually, if they can help track Deric down, we might avoid a lot of bloodshed." Rhea shook her head, “It’s a new world down there. But thank you.” Random considered Cole’s words, “As tempting as it might be to have Perondor keep Rebma occupied, I will send an envoy to both parties then. Broker some deal to avoid open hostilities.” He sighed, “With any luck, they’ll return the boy with a stupid smile and several ‘heirs apparent’ to keep the Queen content.” "Thank you, Your Majesty," Cole replied. "Of course, any bastard of Deric's would have even less chance of becoming king of Perondor than I do. But we probably shouldn't point that out in Rebma." [Random] shrugged this off, “But that’s for later. I believe our schedule for the Great Old One to arrive is rather tight. You’ve all put out some intriguing points. Can we formulate any coherent plan from them? Caine and Gerard can mobilize the Castle and surroundings. But that’s all just window dressing from the sounds of it.” For the moment, Pelageya remained quiet, her eyes flickering over to her compatriots. Gillian looked back at her out of the corner of her eye, unsure of how to take the other woman's admission. To boldly state such a thing in front of the king and his brothers and sisters was either very brave, or very foolish. So which? Was she playing a deeper game? Unicorn knew, with the Baroness involved. "Do we have any knowledge of what weapons or powers are effective against this thing?" Cole asked. "There doesn't seem to be any sense in arraying conventional forces against it. I can run up and try to stab it, but I don't expect that to do much, and my sword is better than most. Etrosk and his companions were able to do something to it. Can we guess what that something was?" "I suspect that decoying it or diverting it would be a better bet than trying to destroy it," Temnal said. "I'm not sure we even can destroy it." Gillian pinched the bridge of her nose. "We can't destroy the Nyx. And we can't divert it. I think we _can_ manage to control where it manifests. But in the end, it will require a Sacrifice. That's what the Hanged Man is for. Once the Nyx manifests, I can activate the Trump, enter into a Pact with the Hanged Man, and the Hanged Man will be the Sacrifice.This act should recreate the Seal. Theoretically, it would be even stronger than Oberon's, for it will be able to draw energy from all the acts of sacrifice throughout creation." "I wasn't talking about destroying it," Cole said. "But the way these things go, I assume we'll at least need some way to hold it at bay while something is done to put a more lasting solution in place. Maybe we can cause it pain or distract it or put obstacles in its path. Again, Etrosk helped drive it off. We could find out from him what tactics they used against it, and which ones worked best. And whether there's anyone left around who can use them." Gillian spread her hands. "Fair enough. I imagine Etrosk is still on the side of Kolvir, if you'd like to go talk to him. I'd take Pelageya with you. And bear claws. And be very, very polite." Random gave a dubious look. “I won’t even ask.” He tugged his chin, “Well then. Cole. I task you, Pelageya, and Rhea to negotiate some form of agreement with this dragon. At the very least, I’ll offer it amnesty for whatever part it took in the war with Amber. If it assists Amber, we’ll provide it territories in the Arden. I’m sure there’s a Lonely Mountain or two it can begin its horde in. The same will go for any other of its kin so willing to help.” Gerard coughed, “Sire, I’m not sure if Julian will approve.” Random sighed, “When I want Julian’s opinion, I’ll give it to him. Until then, he can bugger his horse for all I care… or all I know. He’s had free reign over the Arden for long enough.” He glanced over at Gillian, “As much as it pains you, I want you and Fiona working together on this Trump trap… Seal… whatever. My wife shall assist you.” Vialle smiled gently, “Of course… my King.” Gillian sighed. She was pretty sure the main reason Vialle was involved was to keep her and Fiona from trying to kill each other. Even so, she wasn't convinced it would work. "Yes, sire," she replied through pressed lips. Random nodded, “Thank you. And Fiona? I’m sure you’ll put duty before anything else, yes?” Fiona slowly nodded in return, “Of course, my King.” Cole shivered. "I'm sure we'll be safer with the dragon," he whispered to Rhea. Random squeezed her hand, and then looked to the others. “If you want to contribute, now’s the time to speak up.” "I would be happy to assist the ladies," Temnal said, nodding in the Queen's direction. "Freeing the dragon," Pelageya spoke after a moment, "may require a long delayed visit to Rebma on my part. He is bound to someone residing there, milord, which is why he has slept in the mountain all this time." "We can discuss his freedom in the context of aiding us against the Nyx," she added. "I think we're leaning toward not releasing him right now," Cole said. "But discussing how he might be released might be good incentive to get him talking, along with an offer of his own personal mountain. And if I go to Rebma right now, there might be bloodshed. Let's see Etrosk first. After we get some bear claws." He paused. "Those are pastries, right? We don't need to actually hunt down real bears?" "Da," Pelageya said. "They are a pastry that he favors. He mandated us bringing them on my and Gillian's next visit," she said. Random clapped his hands together, “Excellent. We have something akin to a P-word-I-never-use-because-we-$^%#-up-when-I-say-it in the works. I’m more of the hit-it-with-a-pointy-object type, so I guess I’ll work with Tweedledee and Tweededumber on the Mallet portion of our Pla…” He cut himself short and chuckled. “Almost jinxed us there. Phew.” He glanced around, “We’re not at the Noble Speech of Blood and Honor portion of the Apocalypse yet, so I’ll skip it for the moment. I just want to say, I’m glad to have you all here. You’ll all make sure we find a way through. I couldn’t ask for better peoples around me. “Anything else before we enjoy this meal and move on?” Cynwyd shrugged apologetically before speaking. "Speaking of finding a way through, and sorry in advance for bringing this up..." "Remembering that 'P's always get $^%# when they make contact with the enemy because... well... it's the enemy, and the quality of our enemies is better than most, and we have to make split second decisions that might result in unknowable side effects..." He nodded towards Gillian at that last, shrugging apologetically again. She waved the comment away. "I guess I was wondering at official latitude... with a sub-optimal action being preferred to annihilation?" Random nodded to Cynwyd, losing any hint of mirth or sarcasm. “I’ll put it mildly. No one and nothing are more important than our success. If things sour, you’ve my official permission to use whatever resources or methods to achieve success. Even if they might be… morally questionable.” Gillian stole a glance at Fiona. Her younger sister stared back; eyes like broken jade. Gillian sensed. . . nothing. . . which in many ways was more troubling. Fiona was consciously hiding her surface thoughts. [Random] sighed, “I would prefer avoiding a Cadmean victory, of course. They rarely make for great press, afterwards. That and you’re typically dead.” "It seems to me", Cole said, "that the permission vs. forgiveness dilemma doesn't apply much in situations when failure means there's literally nothing left to forgive. However, we're making P-words so we can coordinate our efforts effectively. If somebody changes the P-word, they need to make sure everyone else knows enough about what's going on to roll with the change. We've been doing that poorly. I'm probably more guilty than anyone. So let's do what we can to stay in contact with each other. What are our options for doing that? Is there someone who can act as a coordinator, or a communications officer? I'll even point out that someone in this role has the opportunity to be both invaluable to our efforts and yet somewhere safely far from the front lines." He couldn't avoid glancing at Rhea. Rhea smiled at this, “I’ve enough training in Trump Scrying to serve as a central liaison. The fewer people, however, the easier it will be for me to listen in. Also, I cannot maintain numerous contacts simultaneously. So, there’d be a delay in relaying multiple messages. We should have back-up contacts, in case one connection is. . . lost.” The implications of such a ‘loss’ were not difficult to recognize. "I can make trump sketches of anyone we don't have trumps for already," Temnal offered. "You may need a new one for me," Pelageya said. "Or you may want to do a new one of me anyway," she added to Temnal with a smile. Fiona tapped the table, “I shall provide you with a full Trump by tomorrow afternoon.” She looked at Temnal, and then to the King. “Sketches should serve only as tools of last resort. Might I remind you, once they are engaged, they will degrade shortly thereafter. And they create unstable connections; possibly dangerous under the wrong circumstances. I suggest they be used for escape only.” Caine shook his head, “Escape, yes, sister. But also for rapid redistribution of resources. A final push. Or response to an unforeseen change in the battlefield.” Fiona nodded, grudgingly. "What about trumps of the rest of us?" Gillian asked of the room at-large. "Since there's been a...merging...maybe old trumps of royals will work, if they even still exist." She paused, then continued in a softer voice, "Not that there would be one of Cybele, anyway." Gerard smiled at her, “Come to me after the meeting. I may have what you require.” This received a curious look from his siblings. He downed his drink, “I’m older than most of you. And have long shared Father’s desire to maintain the Family’s lineage. That has brought certain items into my possession.” He winked at Gillian, “Don’t you worry, lass. You’ll be most pleased, I should think.” She smiled gently at him. "I'll come. Thank you." Random laced his fingers, “Then, I suggest we move forward. I’ll deal with the Baroness and my nephew at the closing of this discussion. The rest of you. . .” He looked around. “Do you know what you’re doing? Or wish to engage in another course of action? Speak now.” "Da, I know what I must do," Pelageya said quietly. "Speak with the Dragon, bargain for his aid, counsel and advice in driving off the Nyx. Cole is coming with me," she added. Cole nodded. "I'll pick up the bear claws." Gillian said nothing, looking down at her hands. She knew what she needed to do. Temnal also said nothing, waiting for one of the three ladies he'd volunteered to assist, to make a move. "Where are you bound, Temnal?" Pelageya turned toward Temnal. "Would you dare to speak with a Dragon?" She smiled and put a hand on his arm, briefly. Random gestured across the table to Cynwyd, “Unless you would prefer to arrange defenses with Caine and Gerard, I’d like you to join me during the discussion with the Baroness. It would do me well to have someone from the Courts at my side.” He nodded to Temnal, “The same invitation goes for you, unless you will be busy with the Dragon negotiations.” "I thought Temnal had expressed interest in helping Fiona and me?" Gillian inquired. She leaned forward and caught Temnal's eye. The expression on her face was hopeful. Temnal nodded. "I did," he affirmed. "And I think I'll be more useful to you than I would to the dragon negotiators," he added apologetically in Pelageya's direction. He wished to see Sekhmet again before they went out to deal with the Nyx, but she might or might not be with the Baroness. He thought he might try a Trump contact with her later. [Random] began to rise, “Finish your drinks. Grab what meals you can. I suspect they’ll be few and far between over the next several hours.” (Temnal and Gillian continued in Past Sins) |
