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Once she had ascertained that Larissa was well and safe and that Mandor would take care of her, Islain scribbled her sister a quick note and left the room. The presence of Mandor was dangerous, as his sureness about his control of her city angered her beyond any measure she had heretofore experienced.

His brother, on the other hand, elicited no such response and she found herself aware of a certain disappointment that she and Jurt would be enemies again so soon.

She led him aside and pulled out her Trumps. Moire was still on the top. "My mother said when this attack began that I might Trump through safely. If she has not changed her mind, I shall take you with me. We can say our goodbyes and you will have a chance to visit the undersea realm before you return to your brother."

With that, Islain focused on the card, reaching her hand out for Jurt Sawall.

Jurt accepted her hand, his touch soft and skin smooth. "I would enjoy that. I've had enough of fighting." His smile was genuine, he looked to his bodyguards and dismissed them back to their House bivouak. "Shall we?"

The card swam into life in Islain's hands. Moire looked at her for a moment - and then held out her had to draw her through.

Islain took her mother's hand wordlessly and stepped through, bringing Jurt with her.

Once in Rebma, she looked down at the floor. "Amber is lost," she said shortly.

They were in the High Court and, all around, on every shining precipice of coral, Rebman courtiers were arrayed. Behind Moire's throne to Maub, Moire's sister, her small shark-like eyes showing no emotion at all.

"Indeed," said Moire. "And who do you bring here? Are the Chaosians so confident of victory over Rebma too that they send just one man?"

Islain let her gaze pass across the assembled courtiers, but showed no sign of emotion. Indeed, her usually expressive eyes seemed dull, all surface. "Lord Jurt was kind enough to offer to escort me here safely, Mother. He is not an invading party." She turned and looked at Jurt, raising one delicate brow. "Are you?"

"Most definitely not, Your Higness," Jurt assured Islain with a soft smile.

Turning, he sketched a graceful bow toward the Queen. "My thanks for your welcome, Your Majesty." If his confidence seemed strong enough to overcome the Rebman might single-handed, it might've been bravado, but his smile never wavered.

"Amber has fallen and while it seemed nothing more than hand-waving, what with her convenient retreat to your safety, I promised the Princess surety," he explained.

Queen Moire said nothing for a long moment, but simply looked at them both as a frisson of shock rippled around the Rebman court.

"And where is my sister Llewella?" she said at last. "Is she held hostage in Chaos?"

"When last I left Chaos she was still with her kinsmen dealing with the death of several of her siblings," he explains. "I apologize for the lack of anticipation on my part of having such facts for our meeting."

"House Sawall's intention was definitely not the destruction of Chaos's wayward children. I'm sure that any prisoners will be treated with utmost respect."

"Lord Jurt seems behind the times, Mother," Islain said coolly. "According to his brother, Aunt Llewella and the others have already left the Courts for Amber, and will be- or have already been- ambushed on the way home. It may be time to Trump her with a possible exit. I tried to Trump Julian earlier and received no response."

She took a breath and nodded to Jurt. "I thank you for your assistance and courtesy."

Then she returned her gaze to Moire. "May I have your Majesty's permission to retire? I am not well."

"One moment," said Moire. "What of those others in Amber? Your sister? Damian? Gerard?"

Islain's eyes smoldered. "Your Majesty's concern might have better arrived when I asked for Rebma's aid. I do not recall these questions then. But Larissa is being cared for and when she recovers she will be offered the choice to serve under the new regime or to take refuge with us, or in Shadow. Damien departed shortly after the news of the attack and I do not know his whereabouts or his health. Gerard..." she swallowed hard. "Gerard is dead."

A low wail went up from the Court. Gerard had been beloved by the people of Rebma, who respected his love of the sea.

"We shall mourn him," said Moire softly. "We could better have spared almost any of the others."

Then she sighed. "You have my leave to depart, Islain. As for your escort ... "

Islain nodded sharply and swept from the room, her ragged and uneven breathing showing a weakness and emotion few had witnessed.

She looked at Jurt.

"We could choose to isolate ourselves from Amber - to seal the stairs. Tell me why we should not do this."

Jurt shrugged with a lazy smile, "Because it benefits neither of us Your Majesty. Trade would be impacted, families upset, general civil unrest."

He looked around at the collected Rebman nobles. "We have no direct quarrel with you and your people, but declaring yourself other than our friend?" Again the casual shrug. "I would worry that Rebma would become a haven for those that escape the City and Forest above the waves. A breeding pit for insurrection and terrorists."

Still appraising the nobles, he addressed the Queen over his shoulder, "We prosecuted and won a war across the length of the universe, Your Majesty. Do you truely believe that we might allow an enemy to flourish a scant twenty miles south or our borders?"

A soft voice spoke from behind Jurt, soft and insidious as a sea serpent rich in venom.

"Why not, Voice of Chaos? After all, Amber did."

Moire smiled coldly. "I am not sure, Lord Jurt, wherher you have met my sister Maub."

Jurt nodded a greeting, his eyes meeting the notable. "My pleasure."

He smirked at the title, "And see how well Amber fares with such policies. I fear she never looked upon you as an enemy, but perhaps just a troublesome vassel." His eyes make it clear that he will never make such a mistake.

He expected the outrage, if not from Moire and Maub, from the assembled nobles, and continued. "Come, speak to my brother and I and we may avoid such unpleasantness."

The assembled nobles were indeed muttering furiously, but Maub was regarding him with her shark-shark like grin as she allowed the waves to settle her robes around her vast bulk.

"Why, Lord Jurt! Could it be that Chaos is offering independence - and an alliance? A very special relationship?"

Underwater, there is no need for predators to lick their lips.

Jurt refrained from chuckling, but the smile was there all the same. "Until such a time as things are settled in Amber a bit more, I fear even my Voice will not carry as much weight as either of us would like." He offered a genuine apologetic glance to Islain. "But I would, of course, be more than happy to carry your entreaties back to the Throne."

"Entreaties?" Maub tucked her hands int her manta-ray sleeves, and looked at Jurt with some amusement. "Is Mandor's backside so secure on the throne of power? He's gone against orders to create his little Empire upstairs, or so my spies tell me. Now he'll need to do some quick talking to keep it. And it seems to me that he'll look a lot more secure if he can offer friendship with Rebma as proof that his holding of Amber will work."

"If your spies are correct, that might be true," Jurt allowed, examining his nails and then seeming distracted by a brightly colored clown fish with one smaller fin. "Or, perhaps he's secured not only an Empire for my brother, but the strength and backing to keep it." He shrugged lazily.

Slowly his clothes shifted and began to resemble those of the assembled courtiers, but in a shimmering black almost of a piece with Maub. "Let's assume that friendship is the preferred posture," he said. "We'll build from there. Might we discuss this over a luncheon? War can be so draining."