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"Lady Tasha, if you will, please?"

Helena's head snapped up at the request and she turned back around toward Jurt. Her blue eyes were dark in the ambient orange light, her expression brooding but determined. Still as stone she waited for her turn to go through the trump, as if sculpted from fine marble.

The sudden motion startled Amba, as by pure force of will she kept from stepping back in the face of Helena's strong emotion. She wished so that there was more that she could do. But she also knew that the only thing she could do was offer her ear and her support—the rest was between Helena, her father, and her sibling.

Tasha smiled and held out her hand. She felt the tug as she stepped through from Minobeeways to Amber's throne room. She blinked and looked around before she realized she probably should say something to the one who had brought her through. With a belated curtsy she greeted him, "Lord Mandor? I'm Tasha Minobee. A pleasure to meet you, sir."

"And to meet you as well," Mandor responded, bowing gracefully over the hand he held. Then he drew her further forward, slightly past him, so that she confronted another man in the room.

"This is Morgan—who you would call Morgan Deirdreson. Morgan, I rely on you to look after Tasha Minobee."

Well, if he were going to be looking after her, Tasha thought she'd better make a good impression. She smiled a greeting, but her blue eyes widened as she took in the man's appearance. He wasn't exactly what she had been expecting, but he was rather good looking in a way. She decided she rather liked it.

The man he indicated was leaning against a wall of the throne room, as Mandor named him he straightened and gave a small bow. He was handsome, in a rakish way, and his dark hair was uncombed and his elegant clothes of black with scarlet trim appeared to have been slept in.

"Lady Tasha," he said, his voice friendly. "Welcome to Amber. I look forward to hearing of Chaos, I have never been there."

Tasha dipped a curtsy, but not as deep as the one she'd given to Mandor.

She was wearing a pretty dress, that made her look about 15 years old, all frills and lace—one her mother had chosen for her to escort the Baroness to breakfast. That seemed a very long time ago, now. "A pleasure, my Lord Morgan. I would be happy to tell you what I know of Chaos, if you would be so kind as to share what you can of Amber, as I've never been here before," She smiled a bit nervously and then glanced back to see who would be coming through next.

"Lady Amba?" Jurt said after Tasha had disappeared from his hand in a prismatic spray of light.

After one last concerned look at Helena, Amba gathered herself, a mask settling in place as she took Jurt's hand. The contact was well done, even over this distance Amba noted, as she barely felt the twisting of reality that marked her transition to Amber. Stepping quickly to the side to allow more room for those to arrive after her, she quickly took stock of her surroundings, alert eyes scanning the throne room before sketching an elegant bow to the man in fron of her. As she rose, she was caught by the look in his eyes, as much as the difference in color of them, but quickly recovered. "Lord Mandor," she said formally, "Amba of House Heldt greets you and thanks you for your invitation."

"It is a great pleasure to meet you," said Mandor. He was smiling faintly. "I have heard so much about you. My daughter's...dearest friend, I believe. And fighting companion."

Morgan bowed to her as well, and smiled.

"Niece?" Jurt asked, his hand empty once again.

Helena felt her insides lurch. She swallowed hard, stepped forward with head held high, and lightly curled her fingers over Jurt's palm. The contact solidified and Mandor stood imposingly in front of her, Amber's throne behind him.

He stretched out his hand to receive her. She lowered her eyes to the hand and pondered briefly on the seeming paradox that he was both directly in front of her and impossibly far away on the other end of the multiverse. Would it change her somehow, crossing over? Would she ever be the same again?

Helena took Mandor's hand decidedly in her own and raised her eyes to his face as she stepped through. Her grip was strong and firm, as if they were merely conducting a business affair, and part of her wondered if she was so very far off in that assessment.

His grasp on hers was equally firm. His face was impassive, but his strange parti-coloured eyes scanned her face, as though looking for something there...something lost...

Then he was smiling, a smile that reached nearly to his eyes. He bowed low over the hand he held, and she felt his lips graze her glove before he straightened. The smile was gone—and he was impassive once more.

"Daughter," he said. "Welcome to Amber."

"Father," she greeted him formally, bowing since she was wearing pants. Applying that title to someone other than Torren felt odd to her, as if she was committing some sort of betrayal. "I am pleased to accept your invitation and look forward to my stay in Amber."

"Then we must do all that we can to ensure your stay is pleasant," responded Mandor.

She released Mandor's hand so that Solitaire might next come through and stepped over to stand by Amba and Tasha. Her eyes scanned the room—partly out of reflex, partly to see if Clytemnestra was present—and her gaze settled on the other man in the room, taking his measure.

"Tear?" Jurt says, hand out-stretched. "We need their bags next."

"Oh right!" Tear exclaimed. "Sorry."

She concentrated on the numerous pieces of luggage, including Tasha's rather sizable collection. Her delicate hands moved in an arcane fashion, drawing several runic symbols in the air to compensate for the variety of variables that would be involved. Each item began to lift off the ground and in an odd baggage train began to cross over the Trump gate. She revealed her cleverness a moment later. By sending the lighter items first, Tear utilized the momentum of the heavier articles to push the luggage on the other side where her magic could not reach. It wasn't very pretty, but it worked well enough.

Tear took a deep breath and rubbed her temples once she'd completed the task. "Remind them that next time, they carry their own stuff," she muttered before crossing the gate herself.

Morgan returned Helena's gaze for a moment, then bowed, the same welcoming smile on his face.

"Amber is blessed to have three such lovely ladies arrive all at once," he said.

Tasha beamed at the compliment and glanced at Amba and Helena to see their reactions.

Helena smiled to herself, for she hardly considered herself "lovely" dressed in riding leathers smelling of wyvern and her hair in wind-swept disarray—that was the sort of compliment deservedly reserved for Tasha. Nevertheless, the man was making an attempt to be polite. She would be polite back, for it was how the game was played.

"Thank you for the generous compliment," she replied. "I'm Helena Barimen-Ishtar, of House Ishtar. And you are...?"

"Morgan," he answered. "Morgan Deirdreson, by your customs, though I don't bother with that name myself. My mother and Merlin's father were full-blood siblings, so I'm his closest male relative in residence."

"Morgan," Helena repeated, trying out the unfamiliar name. She gestured to the women with her. "This is Amba, of House Heldt, and Tasha, of House Minobee. My apologies if I'm behind on things and introductions have already been done."

Catching the prismatic glow preceding a trump crossing out of the corner of her eye, Helena turned reflexively as Solitaire entered through the trump contact.

A words to Mandor, and he portals the bags through to a corner of the room, where helpful servants fall upon them and bear them off to the rooms that Flora and Clytemnestra have allotted them. It is to be hoped that Helena, Amba and Tasha have taken some pains to label their luggage, otherwiose tonight the air of a certain corridor will ring with cries of, "Amba - have you seen my underwear?" Or perhaps we shouldn't go there)

Tear stepped through the mercurial air and immediately blushed when she saw those gathered. With faerie locks and bare feet, she appeared to have stepped out of the wilderness rather than the comforts of a Royal House. Her plain skirt and blouse certainly did not match the regal dress she'd been wearing prior to her trip to Chaos. She appeared younger, almost childlike, as if the years had been stripped from her overnight.

But her violet eyes stated otherwise; their umbrageous depths now millennia old.

The timidity drained from Tear's expression when she noticed Mandor; suppressed loathing outlining her features.

He smiled and inclined his head. There seemed even to be a certain satisfaction in his stance.

Tear narrowed her eyes as he watched her. She crossed her arms, suddenly unsure what to do with her hands, now that strangling Mandor had become one of her numerous options.

"That's interesting," Helena said under her breath, watching the pair's reactions with a small, amused smile.

Damien watched the goings-on from the doorway before stepping through and donning his tricorner hat with its dark feather. He wore the same dark outfit with black lace spilling forth from every opening, and it was still set off by the various glimmering bits of watered steel: a half dozen rings, his flamberge rapier, the buckles of his waistcoat and even the exposed chain of his pocketwatch. Last of all were his eyes, which seemed to match the hardness of steel even if they didn't its color. The eyes which the lie to his kind smile.

He was waiting his turn, not intruding on the scene until bid to do so, and it was unclear to most whether he had just arrived, or whether he had been waiting there patiently all the while.

Helena's eyes rested on his face briefly, then traveled down to his interesting blade, then back up to his face again. Was it common to walk around in Amber armed, especially in the presence of the Prime Minister? she wondered. Neither Mandor nor Morgan had apparent weapons. Was this man the rule, or the exception?

Damien's smile widened to show a glimmer of pearly tooth as she caught sight of him, he removed his hat and half-bowed in her direction.

Helena inclined her head.

Jurt smiled at his brother, his meaningful look suggesting that they'd need to speak, privately and soon. "Well, here we are, all alive and whole, no missing hands or bleeding ichor."

"Did it come nearly to that?" Mandor murmured. "Dear me. And I thought we were having excitement at this end with an attempted assassination."

He turned to regard the assembled visitors. "I'm afraid Merlin is a little under the weather and is unable to welcome you at this time. Jurt—Morgan can supply fuller particulars on this. But I have no doubt he'll be at dinner.

"I do hope your journey here was pleasant."

Tear coughed politely. "Pleasant enough," she said. She gestured toward the door. "May I excuse myself, Master? Now that my duty is fulfilled, I should collect Tanstaafl and return to my studies. And I must prepare Tasha's quarters. She will be boarding with me in Five Corners.

"And I'm sure you have a great deal of. Catching up to do. No sense in me being in the way."

She briefly looked at the other men present, not sure what their presence here meant. She offered them a plain smile before turning her gaze back on Mandor.

"Certainly," said Mandor, politely. "I must make you my thanks for the successful completion of your first mission in my service. But you must be anxious to return to your home and write this all up. I look forward to seeing your report."

"As I look forward to receiving all your notes on a certain 'project' you've been conducting," Tear said, stiffening. "I'm curious to see how they compare with the others I will be acquiring shortly."

Helena's gaze also rested on Mandor, after having assessed the room and determined that her sister was not present. She quirked an eyebrow.

He glanced at her and—somewhere beneath the bland expression of polite interest—she caught a glimpse of something more.

Jurt offered a lazy smile for Morgan and a slight dip of his head that must have been some approximation of a nod. "We should talk," he suggested. "Once I know the ladies are situated?"

Morgan acknowledged the nod from Jurt, then looked back at Mandor. "I'm happy to escort Lady Solitaire and Lady Tasha, if that's what you'd like, Mandy," he said. "She'd probably like to see where she's staying before being thrown into the whirl of court life. I promise to have her back by supper." He grinned. "Or I can stay and gossip with Jurt about Damien there," he indicated the man with two casually extended fingers of his right hand, "And how he stabbed his lover in the back. Whatever the Power Behind feels like having me do."

Tasha's eyes widened. Her mouth making a small "O" before snapping shut. It was obvious to her that Morgan wasn't joking. She eyed the other man, whom she was sure had not been there when she had trumped into the throne room from Chaos. She moved closer to Tear.

Tear offered her friend a reassuring smile. Not that it meant much considering the circumstances.

"A fine introduction, Morgan. I am indeed Damien, and I did stab a man in the back this morning, and in so doing prevented our esteemed Prime Minister from coming to harm at his hands, prevented him from plunging Amber into Anarchy. As for whether he was, at that time, 'my love,' that is not any of your concern...unless you are flirting with me, perhaps?. In the future, I'll be sure to cast him down a very deep pit instead...would that be more to your liking?" Damien said as his eyes twinkled.

Morgan continued to smile at Mandor, giving no sign that he had heard Damien at all. No sign, except perhaps the subtlest tightening of his eyes at the words, 'very deep pit.'

Feeling rather uncomfortable at the sudden strange currents running through the room, Helena tensed visibly, her eyes flicking from Damien with his sword to the exits in the room to Amba beside her to the positions of the rest of the people and back to Damien.

"Good God, is it like this here all the time?" Helena asked.

Tear nodded absently, "This is a good day for them." A frown poisoned her expression as she realized she'd just said this aloud. She glanced over at Morgan nervously, caught by his kind offer. She'd been uncomfortable enough before she arrived. Now her skin wanted to crawl off and find some place to hide. Regrettably, it remained attached to the rest of her, so its options were rather limited for the time being.

Instead, she gave Morgan a soft smile; unsure why he'd offer to be so obliging, but grateful for it.

"It depends," said Mandor. "The presence of Chaosians generally exerts a somewhat calming influence on the Amberites. They are, I believe, considerably less restrained in our absence. However...

"Yes, Morgan, I would be obliged if you will escort the young ladies to Five Corners. Jurt, perhaps you would go with him. Lady Tasha, Baroness, you are both invited to dinner this evening. I do hope you'll feel able to join us."

Jurt offerd a simple nod in answer for his brother and a small smile for Tasha.

"Thank you for the invitation," Tasha managed, remembering her manners. She was relieved that Jurt would be accompanying them. Not that she wasn't sure that she and Tear could take care of themselves, it was just... Morgan was a stranger, and an Amberite. But she had to be glad at least that he was the one accompanying them and not Damien; a man who had admitted to stabbing another in the back just that morning.

Tear nodded sadly and walked over to Morgan. She looked up at him with hollow eyes. "Thank you," she said, her voice wavering with desperation. "Can we please go? And have someone bring the luggage later? I just need. To go home."

"Damien, perhaps you could escort my daughter and Lady Amba to their rooms. And then, perhaps, you would join me for tea, both of you?"

"As you wish, " Helena replied to Mandor. She glanced at Amba who'd been very quiet since coming through to Amber.

"Thank you, Lord Mandor," Amba said, then turned to regard Damien. If Morgan's word had any affect on her attitude towards him it didn't show on her face as she regarded him. She returned Helena's glance and forced a smile, though it was obvious her thoughts were somewhere else as she looked back towards Damien.

"Of course, it would be my pleasure," Damien said as he bowed to Amba as he had earlier to Helena, which he embellished with a sweeping motion of his hat towards an open threshold.

"If you would follow me this way?" he asked over his shoulder as he motioned several palace servants towards the pile of luggage with one hand. He seemed to have little difficulty identifying which parcels belonged to Helena and Amba—each visitor had her own style, and Tasha's was quite different from either woman he was to escort if her dress was any indication.

It seemed the porters would take some time to gather up their luggage, so the three would have some time to talk as he led them through the halls.

Continue in Treading Hot Water -- Damien, Helena, Amba

Morgan waited until Damien had led Helena and Amba out of the room before he said, "Ladies, if you're ready. Lord Fuzzy was in the castle just an hour or two ago, so there's a good chance he's still caging food from the kitchen."

Tasha mouthed, "Lord Fuzzy?" And glanced at Tear for illumination.

"Tanstaafl," Tear said with a growing smile. "He hates the nickname. But everyone calls him that." She looked up at Morgan, "We're ready. And thank you, Master Morgan."

He led the way to the door, pausing to see if anyone had any last business in the throne room before leaving.

Tasha again curtsied to Mandor, "I look forward to seeing you again this evening, Sir."

Tasha quickly took Tear's arm in hers as she hurriedly exited after Morgan and Jurt. As she glanced back she saw some demons gathering up her belongings and hoped that everything would make it safely to Five Corners.

Tear laced arms with Tasha and grinned. She brushed her head against Tasha's shoulder, much as a lonely kitten would butt its brow against someone's hand for attention. She paid no heed to Mandor as she left, focusing instead on the door out of the room.

Continue in Treading on Hot Nails -- Morgan, Jurt, Tasha, Tear