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Diffused light from the rising sun broke through the pale purple shaded clouds, illuminating the field on which Helena and Amba practiced. There were few about, as only the most dedicated sword-dancers took to the field this time of morning. Helena and Amba did it as a matter of practicality as well as dedication -- Amba had much to catch up on as far as her Chaosian education, and those essential pursuits took precedence over Sword Dancing in the Baroness' eyes. Not that she looked down on the practice -- Amba's sword dancing brought a bit of prestige that House Heldt could use, not to mention her own pride that Amba was doing so well in the sport. But even though her guardian had done surprisingly well at educating Amba according to the ways of the courts, the Baroness was insistent that the few gaps that remained were filled.

Because of their limited time to practice, they didn't have as many sparring bouts with others as Amba nor Helena would have liked, but there was little to be done about it. On this particular morning, only a couple of other pairs were on the field. Amba had almost instantly noticed Pavlo and Rudin -- a pair that she'd wanted for the longest to compete against, but their seeding was such that it was unlikely this would happen in normal play. Another sat watching them -- unusual at this time of morning, though her attention was mostly conserved for those that she and Helena would hopefully play.

The watcher was a slight young man, not in practice garb but in ordinary daywear, dark green trimmed with bronze -- the same colors that banded the tall, dark Pavlo's sleeves. A short staff was propped next to him on the bench, and he seemed to be writing or drawing something.

Looking at Helena, Amba said, "Do you want to try to see if we can get a sparring session in with them?"

Helena glanced over at Pavlo and Rudin practicing and then back to Amba. "Sure--we have time. What fascinates you about those two? I noticed your attention was on them as soon as we came onto the field and it keeps flicking back over there."

Amba shrugged. "Kevth and Franco," she said pointing to one of the other pairs, "are decent, but I've learned their form and sparring against them is pretty pointless." Though in another's mouth those words might have seemed arrogant, in Amba's they were just statement of fact.

She started walking towards the other playing field, motioning to another pair as they passed. "Jarl and Derik are a bit too intense for simple sparring, and don't take kindly to losing."

Helena chuckled.

"We've never played against these two -- regulation or sparring," Amba said, shifting her attention again. "And their form is interesting," she said. "And we're not really likely to have another chance -- I never see them here when we're just practicing, and with them not being in our circle, I doubt we'll ever get set against them."

"All right. You do the asking, then," Helena grinned. "I'll provide backup."

As they approached, the pair quieted as they watched Pavlo and Rudin spar together, waiting to be noticed. "Hi," Amba said courteously to the young man sitting on the bench. Noting the similar colors, she asked, "Are you related to Pavlo?"

Helena stood on the other side of Amba and took only a passing glance at the young man, her attention mostly on Pavlo and Rudin.

The pair's movements were precise and graceful, not flashy, with an inevitability about them that spoke of a longstanding partnership.

The young man looked up from his work -- now that they were closer, they could see it was a sketchpad rather than writing -- and smiled at the two young women. "Yes, he's my brother. I'm Claudio Barimen," he introduced himself.

"Barimen?" Helena repeated, leaning forward to look past Amba's shoulder at Claudio with renewed interest. She glanced at Amba to see if she picked up the significance of that name.

Claudio's shoulders squared just the tiniest bit, and there was a glint of challenge in his grey eyes as he responded, though his tone remained pleasant. "Yes, we're still around," he informed Helena.

Helena smiled inwardly--she recognized that defensiveness, for she'd experienced it herself often enough. "I'm Helena Barimen-Ishtar, of House Ishtar," she said, putting an emphasis on the Barimen name, "and this is Amba of House Heldt. Pleased to meet you, Claudio."

She paused a beat. "And I'm glad you're still around," she added, amused.

"Oh... Oh!" Claudio's thin face lit, and he laughed delightedly. "You're from the =other= side of the family." With a wicked twinkle in his eyes, he added in an exaggeratedly disapproving tone, obviously copied from his elders, "...the =disreputable= ones."

Helena rolled her eyes, the amused smile still on her face.

"I'm very pleased to meet you too," he went on earnestly. "I've always wanted to. We are cousins, after all, however distant. And Amba, it is a pleasure also. My mother is of House Heldt. She and the Baroness Tatjana are cousins."

Helena glanced sideways at Amba, wondering if she'd tell Claudio they were related on the other side of the family too.

"Small world it is," Amba said, surprised that both of them had ties to the young man. "I can see why your brother is here, but what brings you out so early in the morning?"

Apparently not. Helena shrugged mentally.

"Motion studies," Claudio answered, angling the sketchpad so that they could see it. The page he'd been working on bore a series of quick sketches of the two Sword Dancers, capturing their moves with a deft economy of line. "I come to the matches too, but that's for pleasure. And to cheer Pavlo on, of course."

"Of course," she said, now giving him more attention as she studied his works with a practiced eye. Even from the sketches, she could see his talent, and said, "You're quite good. Is this your preferred medium?"

"Thank you. I'm still working on that," he admitted, "but yes, I do better in two dimensions than in three. So far, anyway."

"They are good," Helena agreed. "Claudio, how are you related to Lord Barimen? I'm curious how very distant as cousins we are."

"My father, Alfonso, is Count Barimen now," he answered. "We're descended from what was a cadet branch, back when..." He waved a hand vaguely, then continued, again with that wicked twinkle in his eye, "Your notorious ancestor whom-we-do-not-name would be my great-great-however many 'greats' it is uncle."

Helena made a thoughtful noise. "Have any of you contacted my mother, out of curiosity?"

He chuckled ruefully. "Father would turn himself inside-out if any of us tried it. Though I don't know about Lovisa," he added in a ruminative tone. "I wouldn't put it past her... out of curiosity. I ought to ask."

"Lovisa?" Amba asked, looking at Claudio askance.

"My sister," he explained. "One of them. The ferociously intellectual one, and I do mean ferocious."

"How many siblings do you have, Claudio?" Helena asked incredulously.

"Six," he replied. "Two older brothers, three older sisters and a younger sister."

"I wish I had siblings," Helena said wistfully as she turned back to watch Pavlo. "I have a sister but she doesn't live with me. It was rather lonely growing up." She glanced sideways at Amba, knowing she was alone growing up too--even more so than Helena had been.

"How close is your family?" Amba asked, seemingly in the midst of the same thought process as Helena.

"Jonmari and I are closest," answered Claudio. "That's my youngest sister. Tiresa married into another House while I was still little, and Lovisa has her own Ways now, but Enriko and Pavlo and Madalin and Jonmari are still at home. And me, of course."

"Is Pavlo the eldest?" Helena asked.

"No, Tiresa and Enriko are both older," said Claudio. "Pavlo's next, then Lovisa, then Madalin and me, and Jonmari's the youngest."

Pavlo and Rudin were just finishing up their bout. Practice staves twirled and clashed, and a moment later Rudin went sprawling. Pavlo grounded his staff as his partner loosed his in token of defeat; then he went over to help Rudin up. It was then they noticed the additions to their audience. As they left the field they angled toward the bench where Claudio sat.

Claudio waved to his brother. "Could you do that last bit again, Pavlo? I missed it," he quipped.

"You shouldn't let yourself get distracted," Pavlo returned mildly. Then, casting an appreciative eye over Amba and Helena, he smiled. "But I forgive you."

"If I introduce you, is that right?" Claudio said with a knowing air. "Amba, Helena, may I present my brother, Pavlo Barimen, and his partner Rudin of Hendrake? These ladies are Helena Barimen-Ishtar and Amba of House Heldt," he informed the men.

Helena quirked a smile and nodded her head. "Gentlemen. Pleased to meet you," she said easily.

"Hello," Amba said. "And nicely played," she added.

"The pleasure is entirely ours," said Pavlo, bowing, "and thank you. Though on our side the introduction is almost superfluous. We've heard of you, of course..."

Helena grinned. "Either that's really good, or really bad. Either way... my partner here wanted to know if you'd be interested in a match? We promise we don't bite. Much."

Pavlo's dark eyes glinted a little at Helena's quip, and his smile deepened, but all he said was, "Given a short breather first, I think we'd be delighted. Don't you agree, Rudin?"

His shorter, stockier partner nodded and said, "Never turn down a fresh opponent."

Claudio, meanwhile, flipped over a blank page in his sketchbook and asked Helena and Amba, "Is it all right if I draw you? During the bout, and, well ... portrait sketches too."

Helena shrugged. "Sure, why not?" she replied with the ease of someone comfortable in their own skin. She looked at Amba.

Claudio also looked at Amba, hopefully.

"Sure," Amba said, shrugging. Then her gaze intensified. "One condition..." she said holding up a finger. "We get to see them after you're done?"

Claudio smiled. "Of course." His drawing pencil began flying over the paper almost immediately.

Meanwhile Pavlo said, in response to Helena's earlier remark, "Of course we'd heard about your taking down Crygst last year." He shook his head. "He's one who most assuredly had it coming."

"No one shed any tears over it, that's certain," Rudin agreed.

"Yes, it was awfully big of me to sacrifice myself on the field so that my partner had the opportunity to finish him off." There was some wry amusement in Helena's statement as she smiled fondly at Amba. "He underestimated her--not a wise thing to do."

Helena turned back to Pavlo. "You've been doing decently yourself, if I remember right. Didn't you win against Tam last week in a singles match?"

Helena's question was all it took to spark off the kind of conversation that is endemic to devotees of a particular sport: part technical detail, part gossip, part insight and part hindsight.

Though he did not participate much in their talk, Claudio watched and listened with attention, at the same time sketching busily.

When Pavlo backed off a few steps and started illustrating an anecdote with flourishing movements of his practice staff, Rudin interrupted him with the comment, "Looks to me like you're rested, partner." He turned to Helena and Amba. "What about that practice bout?"

Helena grinned and turned to Amba. "Your idea--you lead, I'll follow."

She smirked back at Helena. "Fine. Be that way," she said playfully. "11 by 11, standard ruleset?" she asked, looking at their opponents.

"At least to start out with," Pavlo agreed, and Rudin nodded.

Claudio started to turn over a fresh sheet on his sketchpad.

The movement caught Helena's eye. "Do you Dance, Claudio?" she asked.

The young man's gaze flickered briefly downward. "No." Then he looked up again with a half-smile and added, "I'm just an enthusiastic spectator."

Helena nodded at Claudio and turned to clap Amba on the shoulder. "Where do you want me?" she asked, gesturing to the playing field.

The game starting, Amba's mien became more serious. "How about," she thought for a second. "How about we start in the standard starting positions," she said to Helena. "Does that work for you?"

"You're the one running the show, dear," Helena replied, grinning.

"Remember that statement later," Amba rejoined, her grin matching her partner's.

Amba decided on a traditional start to go along with the standard ruleset chosen earlier. There'd be no surprises in this game--the winning team was likely going to be victorious due to skill rather than strategy. Not that strategy didn't have a role, but the 11x11 standard ruleset game was the cornerstone of the Sword Dance and all the strategies and gambits and permutations associated with it had been discovered and studied long ago.

This would be a quick, comfortable, friendly game--more of an exercise than a game. At least, that was the intention.

Amba gave Pavlo and Rudin a distinct advantage by letting them choose the weapons they would all use for the game *and* letting them have first turn.

Helena smiled. "Are you flirting with them?" she teased in a whisper over her shoulder.

"Any advantage I can get," Amba replied. "All's fair in love and war, y'know..."

They started in the Dragon position: Pavlo in front with the sabre--a slashing weapon to represent the dragon's claws--and Rudin behind and to the side with the quarterstaff, representing the dragon's dangerous tail.

Amba chose to start in Dragon too, though with sabre and quarterstaff she could have chosen Tiger or Crane as well. She gave Helena the slashing weapon, knowing that was the weapon she liked best, and kept the staff for herself.

Helena accepted the sabre and smiled again. "Now are you flirting with me?"

"Always," she quipped, returning her smile before turning to face their opponents.

As the players moved into position, Claudio studied the angle of the light and decided to move as well. Tucking his sketchpad under one arm, he reached for the short staff that was propped next to him on the bench. When he got up and walked to the side of the field that would give him the best view, it could be seen that he limped. One leg was noticeably shorter than the other, and his walking stick helped him balance.

Once there, he propped his stick against the barrier and half-sat on the top rail as he got ready to make more motion sketches.

"Claudio," Pavlo called over, "that safety barrier is there for a reason." His younger brother made a waving-off gesture with the hand holding the pencil.

The game commenced. It was informal and light, with much jesting and banter between the teams, and by the fourth round enough of the squares were turned that individual sparring could start. Amba and Helena had a distinct lead, so Pavlo decided to risk all by challenging Helena to spar. If he lost, they'd lose the game. If he won, however, Helena would be knocked out and Rudin and he would be able to concentrate both their efforts on Amba.

Pavlo didn't expect to score--he'd seen Helena's expertise with a sword--but it was their best chance to win.

He challenged her on an adjacent square nearby Claudio. If he won, the captured square would provide an inroad into the women's well-defended territory. Besides, it gave his younger brother a better view for his sketches.

Helena smiled good-naturedly and took up her position opposite Pavlo. They saluted their weapons, then both slipped into nearly identical en garde stances. She let him lead and played a mostly defensive game, knowing that he had more at stake in the outcome than she and this would eventually make him bold.

Pavlo started with a few cautious forays inside her guard while Rudin cheered him on. She parried well enough, but hesitated very briefly before parrying the attack to her sword hand. It was an easy target --her hand--and one that didn't put him at too much risk if she riposted. Knowing this she baited him, again hesitating to defend her hand as if that was a weak spot. She hesitated elsewhere and presented a mediocre offense, so as not to draw too much suspicion, and finally he took the bait.

He went for her hand again but with a strong, impossibly quick flick of her forearm she struck his weapon offline as the middle third of her blade connected with the top third of Pavlo's. There was a flash and a mild, unusual vibration through her blade, but Helena was already taking advantage of the opening she created to lunge forward.

She tagged Pavlo on the arm, scoring the point and winning the round. She smiled apologetically and turned to look at Rudin and Amba, but they weren't looking back at her in congratulations. Both had odd expressions, ones she didn't expect, and then it dawned on her that they weren't looking at her, but *past* her. She followed their line of sight to Claudio, leaning up against the rail with his sketchbook and pencil in hand, a spot of red blood blossoming on his chest.

Helena gasped and snapped to look at Pavlo's blade--the top third was gone.

A moment later Pavlo wasn't there either, his broken saber falling to the ground as he lunged toward the barrier. "=Claudio!="

Claudio's expression was more puzzled than anything else as he looked up at Pavlo. His free hand came up to cover the spreading bloodstain. "I didn't see--"

In the next moment Pavlo had vaulted the barrier and was easing Claudio's slight body to the ground. "Rudin!" he called. "My Trumps are with my equipment, back in the changing room."

Claudio grasped his sleeve. "Trumps in my satchel," he got out, through teeth gritted against the blossoming pain in his chest. "Over by the bench."

At Pavlo's direction, Rudin made a dart for the satchel.

Amba ran towards the downed Claudio, placing her hand supportively on Helena's shoulder for a moment as she ran past. Kneeling down next to Pavlo, she asked him "Can you tell how bad it is? Can he shift it out?"

Pavlo and Claudio both shook their heads at once. "He doesn't shift," Pavlo said briefly. In answer to Amba's other question he tore open Claudio's shirt to expose the wound. Amba could hear him curse under his breath. The saber tip had entered Claudio's chest on one side, under the left arm, and while it probably hadn't hit a vital organ, it had gone deep enough that it couldn't just be pulled out.

Helena appeared behind Amba, her eyes wide. "We can take him to Ishtarways," she said to Pavlo. "We have a hospital, and my father's a physician."

Pavlo hesitated for a second, then nodded. "House Ishtar. Yes," he said.

"Well, whatever we're going to do, we need to do it quickly," Amba said. "He's losing blood quickly. Can you stabilise him?" she asked Pavlo.

"I can bind the wound," answered Pavlo, "but with the weapon still lodged... I don't want to drive it in any further."

Just then Rudin came running up, Claudio's satchel in one hand and a couple of clean towels in the other. "Had them in my bag," he told Pavlo, handing the towels to him.

Pavlo looked down at Claudio's pale face with a mixture of desperate worry and affection as he folded one of the towels into a pad and pressed it to the wound. "Hold on, little brother," he muttered. "...and lie still."

One corner of Claudio's mouth twitched up, the barest suggestion of a smile. "Could be worse," he murmured back. "Could be poisoned."

Pavlo snorted softly, either in amusement or exasperation; it was hard to tell which.

While they were talking, Helena flipped open a thin card case and pulled out a trump. She concentrated for half a moment, then exhaled forcefully and cursed. "Father's busy. Dammit."

She looked over at Claudio, took in his pale face, and exchanged the previous trump with a different one. "Place trump," she explained as she put the card case back into her pocket. "Pavlo, can you carry your brother? Everyone ready to go through?"

Helena stared at the card, willing it to life, then held out her hand.

Amba watched, waiting for Pavlo to pick up Claudio-- ready to step through after them.

Pavlo stooped and lifted Claudio with ease, holding him carefully so as not to shift him too much.

"Satchel," Claudio gasped. At Pavlo's exasperated look, he reminded him, "Trumps."

"Can someone get that?" Pavlo asked, tilting his head toward Claudio's satchel.

Amba grabbed the satchel quickly, along with the sketches Claudio had been working on when he was felled. Closing it, she rejoined them. "I have it."

Reassured on this point, Claudio relaxed noticeably in Pavlo's arms as Pavlo moved to follow Helena. "Ready," Pavlo said.

"Amba first--she's known," Helena explained. Amba took her hand and Helena passed her through the trump. "Pavlo next, then Rudin."

Pavlo looked over at his sparring partner, who shook his head.

"I think I'd better stay here and clear up things on this end," he said.

"Let my family know, if I don't get a chance to Trump them myself," Pavlo requested, and Rudin nodded.

Pavlo then got ready to follow Amba. He was more difficult to pass through, as he was holding Claudio, but through he went. Helena brought up the rear.

They appeared in the middle of a round brick patio set in a garden. A large white dog stood up from its rest under a bench and started to growl, but stopped and wagged its tail when it recognized Amba. Several more benches lined the patio and four paths led away from it at right angles, each path covered by an archway hanging with roses. It was night here and double moons hung in the starry sky, one full and the other crescent.

Helena addressed the dog after she came through. "Rett, go inform the hospital we're coming."

The white dog cocked its head at her intelligently, woofed softly, then bounded away through the garden.

"This way!" Helena barely spared a glance for her beautiful surroundings and led them through the archway covered with the dark roses, along the brick path, and down stairs leading to glass doors shut against the cooling temperatures. She opened one of the doors hurriedly and ushered everyone in.

Beyond the doors was a sunroom illuminated softly with magical balls of light, and beyond that they came into Ishtarways proper.

The architecture here showed a definite gothic influence, doorways topped with pointed arches and columns intricately adorned with sculpted designs. The windows were large and predominately filled with stained glass, and the occasional stone gargoyle grinned from its perch over an archway or in a wall niche.

"I like it," Claudio murmured. "Pity I'm in no shape to appreciate--"

Abruptly he started to cough, bringing up blood. As they all followed Helena quickly down the corridor, Pavlo trying to minimize the bouncing his brother received but not completely successful, Claudio's coughing became more pronounced and he sounded like he was starting to choke. Helena paused and looked back at Claudio and Pavlo in concern.

Claudio's face was pale and lined in pain, Pavlo's chest covered with droplets of bright blood where Claudio had coughed on him. His breathing was labored, and there was bloody froth on his lips.

"Hard to...breathe..." he managed. "Hurts..." He coughed again, uncontrollably, as his lungs tried to clear themselves.

Pavlo was almost as pale as Claudio and was starting to look panicked. "How much farther?" he asked Helena urgently.

"I don't think we have time," Amba said, looking back at Claudio. "We need to have medical assistance come to him-- the movement, I think is aggravating his wounds."

"If you can put him down... I can try to stabilise him while you go get someone," she said, her face grim, but determined.

"I'll go." Helena squeezed Amba's shoulder and took off running.

Amba looked at Helena go for a second, then turned her attention back to Claudio and Pavlo. "Put him down here... Gently," she said.

Pavlo knelt and laid Claudio on the floor of the corridor as gently as he could. He looked up at Amba. "Do it. Please."

Amba knelt beside Claudio, trying to calm her rapidly beating heart. She had learned some from Lord Torren, but didn't have the facility for healing that Helena's father did. He'd said it was not a limitation of her ability as a shifter-- that she had unplumbed potential there. But it was more of a psychological block.

She placed her hands on Claudio's chest tentatively-- one hand on either side of the wound as she closed her eyes to center herself. Imagining the wound in her own body, she took stock of the structures in that area-- starting from skin level and then proceeding deeply into her own chest. Then she expanded outward, attempting to feel the same level of empathy with Claudio's own body. As she did, she noticed something encroaching on the edge of her consciousness-- something foreign that seemed to fight against her attempts. It felt like Claudio-- but at the same time, it didn't. It felt almost like fear. But it was enough of a distraction, whatever it was, that she was sure she couldn't extrude the foreign piece of metal in her... rather Claudio's body. But she did feel the flow of his life-- a portion of his lungs had been damaged. It wasn't from the initial thrust it seemed, so must have been damaged in moving him.

Concentrating harder, she focussed her attention on the blood vessels around the site of the foreign body, closing them and slowing the blood loss. That done, she expanded her consciousness again, looking for any other incidental damage that was within her abilities.

She could sense the leakage of blood into the air passages that made it difficult for him to breathe.

Finally, she removed her hands from Claudio's chest, looking up at Pavlo. "Well, it's not the prettiest job, but it should do until Helena returns." She looked back down at Claudio. "How do you feel?"

"Better," he whispered. His blood-flecked lips twitched into a half-smile as his eyes met hers. "You have ... good hands."

She flushed. In truth, it was taking all of her willpower to keep her hands from shaking. "Thank you," she said, looking down.

She sat down, beside Claudio, suddenly tired. "The shard," she said, changing the subject, "had moved-- it nicked your lung. I was able to shift it a bit-- repair a bit of the damage. But I fear we'll need a real doctor to get you up and going again."

Claudio nodded his comprehension. His face was still pale, but the lines of pain in it had eased a bit. Amba was close enough to see the faint shadows of old pain underlying the fresher traces.

"But I'm glad you at least feel a bit better."

His grey eyes smiled up into hers. "Sit close," he invited, speaking in short phrases on shallow, cautious breaths. "Talk to me. You're studying ... healing?"

"I wouldn't say so much 'studying' as 'picking up'," she answered. "I only arrived at the Courts less than a year ago, so I have a lot of catching up to do. Lord Torren has been helping me with my shifting, and I've learned quite a bit from him," she said.

Pavlo, meanwhile, reached over to pull Claudio's satchel toward him and began to rummage through it. It wasn't long before he came up with a slim case of Trumps. He looked over at Amba, interrogatively. "I should Trump my mother," he said.

Amba looked at him a bit skeptically. "Shouldn't you wait until you know more?"

The brothers exchanged glances. "No," they said in unison.

"Well," she said, a little taken aback. "I suppose that's unanimous then, among those here that know your mother, eh?" She smiled. "So... what's she like?" she asked Claudio, as Pavlo shuffled through the trump deck.

"Small, like me," he replied. "Fair. Quiet. Very strong. You're of House Heldt," he pointed out, an unregenerate twinkle surfacing in his eyes. "You know."

Meanwhile, Pavlo had found Ekaterina's Trump and moved a little way off to make the call in semi-privacy.

"Maybe I do at that," she said, smiling. "What do you think her reaction will be to Pavlo's news?"

"Chew Pavlo out," answered Claudio, a bit ruefully. "Me too. Once I'm better. Then she'll send you ... very nice note."

Amba felt a familiar tickle at the edge of her consciousness...someone was trumping her.

"Very nice, huh?" she said. Then feeling the trump, she held up her hand. "One minute... this must be Helena."

And she opened herself to the contact.

It was indeed Helena. "I'm here in the hospital. Can you come through?"

Amba looked over at Pavlo to make sure he was finished before answering, "Sure."

Pavlo, with a rather pained expression, was just sliding his mother's Trump back into Claudio's case. He certainly did look like a man who'd just received a scold from his mother.

Looking to Pavlo and Claudio she asked, "Ready? It's Helena," she added by way of explanation.

"I'm ready," said Claudio, bracing himself visibly.

Pavlo stooped and carefully lifted Claudio in his arms once more.

"I'm sending them through first," Amba said, as she let the brothers go through, then followed behind.

They all came through to find themselves in a curving corridor. Though the floor was level, the walls curved upward toward the ceiling and around the corner to the right, and the entire corridor was lit by a soft, white ambient light. The floor was dark purple and made of some faintly squishy substance, fading into an orangey-salmon by the time the color reached the ceiling.

A young man with dark hair and eyes and wearing a slightly anxious expression stood in a doorway next to Helena, and when Pavlo came through with Claudio, he gestured them into the room.

"Hi, Amba," the man smiled when she came through. She recognized the medic Brogan.

"Hi, Brogan," Amba said cheerily. "We had to stop-- Claudio was bleeding internally," she started without preamble. "But I used some of what I saw Lord Torren do... I couldn't get the shard out, but I did stop the bleeding," she said, not quite grasping how extraordinary it was that she'd been able to do *anything*.

Brogan indicated for Pavlo to lay Claudio on the table in the center of the small room as Amba talked. He touched a dark, floating ball above the table and it suddenly turned on, filling the room with a bright glow.

Pavlo laid his brother carefully on the table, then stepped back just enough to be out of the way of both the doctor and the floating ball.

A purple moss covered the top of the table and when Pavlo laid Claudio down on it, the moss conformed to his body and held tight, holding him in place.

Claudio did not seem particularly alarmed by this, or by anything else in the room.

Vials filled with liquids and powders sat in individual holders attached to one wall, and underneath was a cart that held bandages and linens. Other than those items, the room was almost amazingly empty of medical equipment.

"You did *what*?" Brogan asked Amba, rather astonished.

"Ummm..." she said, a little more hesitant at the sound in his voice. "Lord Torren was talking to me about bloodlines and shifting, and from that I sort of figured out how he did it..." She paused. "I mean, Claudio was *bleeding* and he couldn't

breathe*! So I had to do something... I used my shifting to

heal him. Well sort of. There was something there... I couldn't really shift his flesh that easily, so I just did minor changes to stop the bleeding..." She trailed off into silence, shrugging. "I had to do something..."

Helena put a calming arm over Amba's shoulders.

Brogan blinked at Amba, then turned to Claudio. With a light touch, he rapidly passed his hands over all of Claudio's body, his attention focused inward. He paused at Claudio's bad leg, a curious expression on his face, before returning his attention to the chest wound. After a moment he said, "Hemopneumothorax ... and part of the blade still in the chest...I can't..."

Brogan exhaled forcefully. "Can you shift at all?" he asked Claudio.

"I don't," Claudio said with precision, then added, "Doctor's orders. And yes ... it's to do with the leg."

"Who's your doctor? Do you have a way to contact him?" Brogan asked.

"Delluth Corrino. I have a Trump," Claudio answered. He slanted a look at Pavlo, who took Claudio's Trump case out of his pocket and handed it to his brother.

"You should probably contact him," Brogan suggested to Pavlo. "Your brother doesn't need to expend the energy."

Pavlo looked a little shamefaced. "Claudio's usually quicker at it, that's all," he said. He took back the Trump case and riffled through the cards until he came up with Delluth's. Holding it up, he concentrated on it.

Delluth, lying in bed in Amber with his arms behind his head, found his internal debate about whether or not to get up for the day settled by the sensation of an attempted Trump contact. Since nobody on the short list of people likely to call him would be interested in seeing him in his underwear (as far as he wanted to know), he hastily got up and pulled on last night's black trousers. Then he focused his mind for the contact. "Good morning," he said -- followed by a certain wariness in expression, as he did not instantly recognize the person calling.

"This is Pavlo Barimen, Doctor. Claudio's brother."

"Ah, yes. Is something wrong?" By the concern in his face, he had already guessed the answer.

"Claudio's been injured," Pavlo explained quickly, "and the medic here wants to talk to you."

"Is it serious? Where's 'here'?"

"We're at the Ways of Ishtar," said Pavlo. He continued a bit unevenly, "There was an accident on the Sword Dancing ground and he has a metal shard lodged in his chest. He's stable, but... the medic wants to know if he can shift at all."

"And if not, why not," murmured Claudio, listening in.

"What?" Delluth yelped. "Why -- never mind." He rushed into the hall and grabbed last night's jacket off the peg by the door; it was dark red with black trim and wasn't proper medical attire, but it had his Trumps in one pocket. "I'm going to an emergency," he called to someone Pavlo couldn't see. "Back later." Then he extended his hand and stepped through, still barefoot and shirtless.

"He's coming through," said Pavlo to the others, before taking Delluth's hand.

Delluth was, the others could see, a solidly built and fit man. He also projected an attitude of calm assurance, and if finding himself half-dressed in the presence of two young ladies disturbed him, there was no sign of it. "Claudio," he said mildly, after taking in the scene, "didn't I tell you to stay out of trouble?"

Helena raised an eyebrow, but other than that didn't react to Delluth's sudden presence and state of half-dress. Her arm was still across Amba's shoulders.

Amba studied the doctor as he stepped through, and smiled at his statement. But soon enough her attention was back on Claudio.

"It was an accident," Claudio told Delluth meekly. "Just an innocent bystander."

"Standing too close to the barrier," Pavlo grumbled. "I =told= you..."

Claudio looked apologetic.

"Mmm-hmm," the doctor said, handing his jacket to Pavlo and moving up next to the examining table. "That took a lot of force."

"Accident," Claudio repeated, then stressed, "=Freak= accident."

"Rapid examination showed no injuries save the penetrating chest wound and a preexisting condition of the leg," Brogan reported to Delluth. "Focused exam revealed a hemopneumothorax. Initially treated by Amba, she was able to shift him enough to control the bleeding."

Brogan paused and gestured to Amba.

"I'm only a medic, not strong enough nor trained enough to shift him myself," he continued, looking at Amba with mixed admiration and envy, "so his brother contacted you, his doctor."

Amba flushed, avoiding meeting his or the doctor's gaze, trying to keep her attention anywhere other than the pair.

Brogan turned back to Delluth. "Do you wish to treat Claudio, or should I request the doctor on call?"

"Why isn't he or she here already?" He had the trick of administering a rebuke without actually sounding like he was doing so. He touched Claudio's chest gently and his eyes went distant.

Amba watched very intently-- both the doctor and Claudio. One for the reactions to what the other was doing, and the other for... anything. Unconsciously, she leaned forward, waiting to see any response.

Claudio looked almost relaxed -- certainly less anxious than he had since he'd been injured -- and at the same time almost as interested as Amba herself. He was watching Delluth's face too.

Brogan went red and stammered, "I...I thought I could take care of this myself...."

"Aren't most sports injuries triaged by medics first?" Amba asked.

Brogan looked up at Amba.

"Anyway, doctor's busy," put in Claudio. His gaze flicked over to Helena. "Yes?"

"My father Lord Ishtar is, yes, but we do have other doctors here," she smiled, amused.

Doctor Corrino's face showed nothing but thoughtful attention. "Amba," he said into the pause after Helena's comment, "what training do you have in shifting wounds, or in shifting others?"

Amba swallowed to clear her throat before answering. "Ummm... none. Sir. I mean not really. Helena's father... that is Lord Ishtar has been helping me to some extent learn, but we've not gotten that far." Though she looked at him when answering, she looked down immediately after, worrying her lower lip with her teeth.

"She has good hands," Claudio said.

"I'm very impressed," Delluth said, "aside from a few details." But he glanced at her and decided not to go into the details just now. Skelton would have, but Skelton had the natural sensitivity of a rock. Instead, he focused on the work at hand and murmured, "Another few moments, then I'll start taking the blade out. It's likely to hurt."

And it did hurt, but Claudio also found it fascinating, as parts of him flowed and shifted. ^Don't do that,^ Delluth said sharply. ^I know it's tempting, but talk to your friends or something.^

"Rather they talked to me," Claudio responded, his breath catching raggedly. He rolled his eyes appealingly at Amba and Helena. "Doctor doesn't want me ... joggling his elbow," he explained. "Doctors are tyrannical. =You= know." His mouth twitched into a brief grin just before it went tight-lipped, his breath catching again.

"Not sure you should be talking," Helena said. "Lying back and being still is probably a better course of action. Go to your happy place."

For her part Amba answered, "I wouldn't know about doctors... but the daughters of doctors," she said, smiling as she patted Helena's arm affectionately.

Delluth worked patiently, lifting the metal out a millimeter at a time and telling the flesh and muscle and blood vessels that nothing at all was wrong, and nothing had ever been wrong, as he went. And monitoring Claudio's energy levels; not all of the effort was coming from himself. Finally, the blade came free and he put it down on the examining table. "Just a bit more," he commented. The lungs needed the remaining blood cleared out, and he double-checked that none of Amba's amateur mistakes were likely to be a problem.

"There," he said. "You may be tired for a bit, Claudio, but that should do it. Though you *might* avoid pushing your luck in future," he added with mock severity.

Claudio was still a bit pale, but the lines of pain in his face had smoothed out and he was breathing normally again. "I'll see what my sketches look like before I decide that," he informed Delluth impudently, then with more warmth he went on, "Thank you, Doctor. Again."

Delluth snorted at the first remark, then smiled. "You are quite welcome, Claudio. It's been a pleasure seeing how well you've grown up." He accepted the damp towel that Brogan offered him with a nod, and wiped his hands clean. Then he leaned forward and said confidentially, "I'm really in no position to criticize people for risk-taking, you know."

"Especially in a good cause," Claudio replied, smiling.

Brogan gave Delluth a cautious smile, then touched the purple moss Claudio rested on. It released its hold on Claudio so he was able to move freely.

"Thank you," Delluth said, as pleasantly as if he'd never criticized the man.

Claudio sat up with a certain amount of caution, his fingers exploring the place where the injury had been.

"It looks like things are in control here," Brogan said, running a hand through his dark hair. His constant state of slight agitation was becoming more pronounced. "I'll just go back to my post. By your leave, Lady Helena..."

Helena nodded her assent. "Thank you, Brogan."

Brogan gave her a cautious smile too, nodded to Claudio and Pavlo, paused when he came to Amba and gave her a more genuine smile, then left with alacrity through the door.

Helena watched him go, her expression thoughtful, then turned back to the assembled group. Her gaze fixed on Pavlo's brother. "Claudio, I'm so sorry about the accident. I had no idea Pavlo's blade would break."

"What, that wasn't part of your strategy?" said Claudio in a tone that made it clear he was joking. "Along with all those 'oh hit me =here=' moves?" He glanced over at Amba, eyes twinkling. "You do know that your partner is a terrible tease."

Helena just grinned and said nothing.

"You don't know the *half* of it," Amba said, matching Helena's grin. Looking to Delluth, she asked, "So Doctor... he's going to be ok?"

"As long as he keeps working on his dodging skills," the doctor said, finally giving his direct attention to them.

"Dodging while drawing, that could be tricky," murmured Claudio.

Delluth bowed politely then, and said, "It's a pleasure to see you again, Lady Helena, even under these circumstances. And to meet you, Lady Amba ...." He was fishing for an actual introduction. His smile was warm and friendly, though not as much as with Claudio, and he seemed to have turned off his 'crisis management' mode.

"Dr. Corrino," Helena returned, nodding her head in greeting. She put a hand on Amba's arm. "This is my friend and sword dancing partner, Lady Amba of House Heldt. Amba, this is Dr. Corrino, a former student and now colleague of my father's."

"So you see, they're both my cousins," Claudio put in with a flicker of a smile.

"Charmed," Delluth said. "And impressed."

Again Amba flushed, but held his gaze this time. "Very pleased to meet you," she said, "and thank you for your kind words."

He was at a loss for words for a moment, caught by the deep blue of her eyes, now that he could see them. She felt a flicker of a different awareness, like lightning on the horizon, and then he shook his head sharply and it stopped. "Accurate words," he said, his smile hardly wavering. "You should keep working on those techniques, you obviously have a gift for them."

Apparently he had misjudged the reason for her apparent shyness, for the gaze that she returned was anything but shy. No, there was something else behind her demeanor.

"Thank you," she said needlessly. "Again," she added, realizing her mistake. "Perhaps you could show me what you had to correct," she ventured. "I could not figure out how to get his body to reject the foreign matter, and I didn't want the cure to be worse than the ailment-- but it was frustrating to be stymied so."

"It's easier just to take it out by hand," he said automatically, working to regain his mental footing. "I could tell you more, but," he glanced at Claudio, "I don't think my patient really wants to hear the gruesome details." In fact, the glance was almost a warning look.

Claudio cocked a challenging eyebrow at him in return. "Who says I don't?"

Delluth glowered at him, then looked toward Pavlo and reclaimed his jacket with a word of thanks. "That's better," he said, putting it on and fastening the buttons. "Though if I might trouble you, Lady Helena, for a shirt and shoes before we go over to Barimen -- I seem to have left home in a hurry." The thought that they weren't all going didn't seem to have occurred to him.

Pavlo and Claudio, on the other hand, exchanged a look of suppressed panic before Pavlo said fatalistically, "Mother will insist. You know that."

Claudio sighed. "Undoubtably. Perhaps I could borrow a shirt as well? I doubt the one I had on is salvageable now." He looked around. "And did anyone pick up my walking stick?"

Helena shook her head. "Maybe it was left on the training grounds? I can get you another one, along with a shirt, if you like."

Seeing Claudio's look of consternation, Pavlo put in, "If it was left on the training ground, Rudin will have picked it up, I'm sure. Don't worry, Claudio."

"If I could just borrow one, then?" Claudio said to Helena. "I can do without, but it makes it easier to balance."

She walked over to the doorway, brought her thumb and middle finger up to her mouth, and whistled down the corridor. It was impressively loud.

Hearing Helena whistle, Amba looked curiously towards the corridor, wondering what would emerge.

Ten seconds or so later, the same white dog that those who came through the trump saw in the garden came barreling around the corner at full speed and stopped in front of Helena. He sat back on his haunches and looked up at her expectantly, tongue lolling.

"Rett, I need clothes for the two shirtless gentlemen in here, shirts for both and shoes for the one," she said.

Rett the dog padded into the exam room. He looked Delluth up and down and sniffed at his feet, then stood on his back legs with his front paws on the table where Claudio sat and looked him up and down, too.

"Socks might be a good idea too, now that I think of it," Delluth noted.

Rett sneezed.

Appraisal of the two men complete, Rett turned tail and shot back out the door and down the corridor.

"He'll be back in a few minutes," Helena said, smiling.

"I suppose we can wait till then to Trump Mother," said Claudio. He held out his hand to Pavlo. "I'll take the responsibility this time," he offered. Pavlo handed him his Trump case with alacrity.

"So," Delluth said to Amba, "you did a good short-term job. But I suspect you worked by comparing your anatomy to his, yes? The problem with working by instinct comes in at this point. You stopped the bleeding, which is good, but some of the altered tissue seemed to think it belonged in a female body." He shot an amused glance at Claudio. "Not a good long-term prospect; given time, the other tissue would start to reject it, causing all sorts of complications. But as a temporary patch, it was all right."

Helena distanced herself discreetly from the conversation and crossed her arms, her attention focused inward. She stood apart from the group a few feet and turned her head to watch the doorway.

"Oh," Amba said, then after a pause, "Oh!" She flushed, continuing, "I never thought of that ... complication."

Claudio, who had been listening with interest, cocked an eye at Delluth and commented with a wry grin, "Could be worse. Could be poisoned."

Delluth ignored him. Pointedly.

Amba thought for a moment, then asked, "So all tissue is gender specific? I suppose if it had been from ... well, if it had been

obviously* gender specific damage, I might have been more alert

for that. But given the wound, I would never have thought of such a thing."

"Well, it's all part of how the body distinguishes between 'self' and 'not-self,'" he said cheerfully. "Our tissues are made up of cells, and all the cells in a body have factors in common that mean 'self.' If you know how to look for them, and train a bit, you can perceive them. At any rate, sex is one of those factors. I daresay the 'female' cells I found in Claudio were just like yours, but I haven't examined you closely enough to confirm that." His eyes danced as if he wanted to say something to follow up on that remark, but he didn't.

"You dog," murmured Claudio, a twinkle in his eye.

"I hope that wasn't intended to be an insult," he rejoined.

Claudio grinned. "Never."

It took Amba a moment to catch up, but when she did, she stayed quiet, flushing again. It was about then that she noticed Helena's absence, and looked around for her while they traded quips. "I believe your things are here," she said, more as a way of turning the conversation than to actually note it to the men.

A few minutes later a young boy with white hair and black eyes, looking all of around ten years old, walked in through the door. He stopped in front of Helena as she stood apart from the others. He carried two red shirts and a pair of black leather shoes under one arm, and a metallic charcoal-gray cane in the other.

"His leg smelled funny," the boy explained.

Helena nodded and gestured for him to pass out his goodies. The boy came into the room, albeit a bit shyly, and handed off shoes and a shirt to Delluth, and cane and the remaining shirt to Claudio. (Delluth will find socks stuffed into the toes of the shoes.)

As Rett came back into the room, Amba moved closer to Helena, giving him a smile as they crossed paths. "What's up?" she asked her lightly, turning to look back towards Delluth and Claudio as they talked.

"Nothing," Helena replied, looking a bit embarrassed. She should've known Amba would pick up on a change in her mood. "I'm proud of you for what you did to help Claudio. That was amazing."

"Mmmm..." Amba said. "We'll talk... later," she finished, taking her hand and squeezing it.

The doctor accepted the items with thanks, and put on the socks and shoes first. The shirt's shade of red didn't go well with his jacket, but after a moment's concentration it had turned black and he put it on, re-donning the jacket with satisfaction.

Claudio also thanked the boy. He took the cane and propped it against the edge of the table while he shrugged into the shirt and buttoned it up. In combination with the dark green of his trousers it gave him a certain Yuletide gaeity.

"Thank you, Rett," Helena said when he had finished.

Rett turned and looked at her discerningly, then gave her a toothy grin and melted back into the white dog they saw earlier. He padded over to lean against Helena's leg and gaze up at her beseechingly.

That got her to smile, which was perhaps his intent. She reached down and absently scratched Rett's ears while shirts and shoes were donned.

"Think I should try that, Claudio?" Delluth asked in a whisper.

Claudio chuckled. "Just at the moment? No. I don't think we need a territorial squabble on our hands."

"On *different* territory, imp," he murmured, not quite laughing.

Claudio finished tucking in his shirt and reached for his Trump case. "I suppose it's time to call Mother back now," he said. He moved a little way off to make the call, which didn't seem to take him quite as long to connect as it had Pavlo.

"Yes, Mother, it's me..."

After a few minutes of intermittent, low-voiced conversation, Claudio turned to the others and said with a slight smile, "As we expected. She'd like you all to come through so she can thank you properly."

Helena straightened. "We're not exactly dressed for the occasion," she said to Claudio, indicating Amba and herself in their light blue training suits. "Will that be all right?"

"You're asking this of the man in the borrowed shirt?" he quipped, then pointed out, "Pavlo hasn't had a chance to change either." His smile softened. "Believe me, you don't have to make any effort at all to outshine us males. You'll be fine."

"You're too kind," Helena replied, her mouth quirking at one corner. "Rett, go inform my parents I'm accepting the hospitality of House Barimen. I'm sure my mother in particular will find that interesting."

Rett woofed and scampered out the door as Helena gestured for Amba to precede her through the trump.

And Amba did, stepping to the side, even as she looked around to see the surroundings and who was awaiting them on the other side.

Helena followed, her actions mirroring Amba's as she stepped off to the other side.

"You'd like to go last, I daresay," Delluth said to Pavlo, smiling, and took Claudio's hand to step through.

"=Claudio= is going last," Pavlo said darkly, exchanging a glance with his younger brother.

They found themselves in an enclosed garden under slanting golden afternoon light. Ivy and more delicate flowering plants twined over rough grey stone walls. The air hummed with bees passing to and from an ancient, gnarled apple tree covered with pink and white blossom.

The woman who greeted them was very much as Claudio had described her to Amba: slight and fair, with the same grey eyes as her youngest son. Her kinship to House Heldt, and to Baroness Tatjana, was visible in her face. With her was a younger woman, similar in coloring but taller and with features tending more toward the aquiline, and with a smile in her eyes that was reminiscent of Claudio's.

"Welcome to the Ways of Barimen," the older woman said. "I am Ekaterina Heldt-Barimen, and this is my daughter Madalin."

To Delluth she said, "Doctor Corrino, it is good to see you again."

He stepped forward, out of Pavlo's way, and bowed. "And it is a delight to see you, as always, my ladies," he said gallantly.

Helena bowed. "Helena Barimen-Ishtar, at your service," she introduced herself, watching for The Reaction.

This time it was not forthcoming. Ekaterina merely smiled and responded, "So Claudio said. It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Helena."

Ah. So she knew already and had time to prepare. Helena wished she could've have seen Ekaterina's face when Claudio first told her.

Amba mirrored Helena's bow. "Amba of House Heldt," she said in way of greeting.

"And you, Amba," Ekaterina said warmly. "I have heard something of your progress from my cousin Tatjana."

She looked up again as Pavlo came through, followed by Claudio. A trace of a frown appeared between her brows as she took in her elder son's practice garb, still spattered with blood. "You should clean up, Pavlo."

"Certainly, Mother, as soon as I have a chance," he replied.

Claudio, behind him, slipped Ekaterina's Trump back into his case and came to give his mother a filial kiss on the cheek. "I'm sorry to have worried you, Mother."

"Perhaps next time you can think about apologizing =before= you take a foolish risk, Claudio," she said dryly.

"Please come into the house," she invited them all, gesturing toward a trellised arch starred with white flowers. "I've bespoken tea." Madalin moved in that direction, ready to lead the way.

"Tea? And food, too, I hope?" Delluth said, immediately going toward the indicated arch. He seemed perfectly at ease here.

Madalin looked around at him and laughed. "Always, Doctor. You know that."

Which means he's visited here a lot, Helena thought. She tucked that bit of information away and looked around as she followed Delluth. "You have a beautiful garden here..." She paused, wondering how to address Claudio's mother. "...Lady Barimen," she ventured, hoping that was correct.

"Thank you, Lady Helena," said Ekaterina, then went on to say, "This is one of the older sections of the Ways, of course."

Pavlo, meanwhile, strode quickly through the arch ahead of the others, presumably going to get cleaned up before joining the others for tea. Madalin paused long enough for Amba to catch up with her. "We've heard about your Sword Dancing," she told Amba, her eyes sparkling. "Pavlo told us, but you never seem to be in any of the matches we go to see him in. Why is that?"

Though she was sure that Pavlo must have told his mother, Amba replied, "All Sword Dancers are ranked in Circles according to skill. Unless there are outstanding circumstances, you can only challenge, be challenged, or be seeded against those of your Circle. Unfortunately, we aren't in the same Circle," she said, giving no indication whose rank was higher.

"But if you move up...?" Madalin started to ask, then went on, "But then the other person, or team, will be improving too, I suppose, if they're any good to start with. How provoking!" She laughed.

They passed through the arch onto a path of herringbone brick overarched by trees, their trunks bronzed by the slanting light and their green leaves whispering. From there, grey stone steps led up to a wide verandah. A tea tray was already set out on a wicker table, within easy reach of the sofa and chairs arranged around it.

"Please sit down," Ekaterina invited, mounting the steps.

As she did so, another young woman, small and dark, emerged from one of a row of French windows that gave on to the veranda. "Claudio!" she cried, and hurried down the steps to meet him.

"I'm all right, Jonmari," Claudio assured his younger sister, taking her hand and bestowing a brotherly peck on her cheek. "You remember Doctor Corrino, don't you? Though you weren't much more than a baby when he came here the first time."

"Yes, of course." Jonmari curtsied politely.

"And this is Lady Helena Barimen-Ishtar and Amba of House Heldt," Claudio went on. "My youngest sister, Jonmari Barimen," he introduced her.

"Claudio has told us about you," Helena said, smiling politely.

"I hear you've taken up an interest in medicine," Delluth added approvingly.

"Yes, Doctor, I have," Jonmari replied, before turning her attention back to Helena and Amba. "Are you related to us?" she asked Helena curiously, as she remounted the steps on her brother's arm.

"Yes. I'm from the disreputable side of the family, great-granddaughter to Dworkin Barimen. My mother is Princess Fiona of Amber," Helena replied matter-of-factly. It was perhaps a bit much to name her mother as princess since the reign of Oberon had ended a century or so ago, but she wanted to indicate in no uncertain terms that she wasn't ashamed of her heritage.

"Disreputable depending on who you talk to," Amba interjected.

Helena gave her a quick smile.

Jonmari's dark eyes widened. "Great-granddaughter? But you don't look much older than Claudio!"

"Pattern initiates are immortal, Jonmari. You know that," Claudio said, before explaining to Helena, "There've been quite a few more intervening generations in the Courts."

"Are you a ... a Pattern initiate?" Jonmari asked Helena.

"No. When it was available to walk, I was only a baby. Now..." Helena trailed off and shrugged. It was an old wound. The Pattern was denied her because it had been destroyed, and the Logrus was denied her because she could not shift. She belonged to both cultures by blood, but was really accepted by neither. Gyvie.

Claudio's eyes met Helena's briefly with a look that might have been sympathy and was surely understanding. He knew the word she had not spoken, though it was not often used to his face; the gyve that shackled him was too discomfortingly obvious to most people.

His voice remained light, detached, as he went on explaining to Jonmari, "But her mother is, and her grandfather was ... and that takes us back to Dworkin. And also I've been told time runs differently in Amber than in the Courts. Is that true?" he asked Delluth.

"It certainly is, though the actual difference seems to vary unpredictably," the doctor said. "But it's also why I really ought to hurry back," he added, looking hopefully at Lady Ekaterin, who had seated herself nearest the teapot and was waiting for the rest to seat themselves. "It might be dinnertime instead of breakfast time, when I Trump back."

Helena slid into a seat, looking at Delluth with renewed interest--although she vaguely knew of the man from his professional connections with Lord Torren, she hadn't known he was currently living in Amber. "How did you come to be there, in Amber?" she asked him curiously.

"I was offered the opportunity to teach pharmacology there, at the University -- an advanced school there." He shrugged and smiled. "How could I resist? I got permission to accept, and I've been there for some time now."

Helena gazed at Delluth thoughtfully, her brow furrowed. "I would be very interested to hear what Amber is like--the place, the people, the culture. Sometime."

"Sometime," he agreed easily.

"How different is it from the Courts, really?" Claudio wanted to know. He had moved over to one of the deep, cushioned wicker chairs, but was waiting to sit until all the guests had found places. Madalin had moved over next to her mother and was waiting to pour the tea.

"Do you want a safe, practical answer, or a dangerous philosophical one?"

Claudio chuckled. "Why not both?"

Delluth, sighed, smiled, and shook his head, more or less at the same time. "You're completely irrepressible," he observed. "Very well ... to start with, philosophically speaking, here in the Courts we have underlying chaos, with a certain amount of order overlaid on it. There in Amber, they have underlying order, with a certain amount of chaos overlaid on it."

Helena smiled. "So, theoretically speaking, if you applied a value to the relative amount of 'order' and 'chaos' in each place, would that value be the same?"

"You still have that lemon sugar, don't you?" Delluth said to Madalin. "Excellent." He turned his attention back to Helena, even as he accepted a cup of tea. "I'd say inversely proportional," he answered her. His tone was enthusiastic, but he spoke slowly enough that it was easy to follow him. "The 'underlying' part counts for a great deal, I think. But even so, despite its foundations being in order, Amber is not immutable. I don't believe it ever was, even before the conquest, as far as I've been able to find out. Mind you--" He took a sip of tea, now that everyone had been served, and smiled at his hostesses. "It's change within bounds, and probably a great deal more now than before. But it's not just change I'm talking about. There's simple disorder. Consider the way the ordinary people of the city live." He paused, however, to capture a small sandwich off the tea tray.

Claudio took advantage of the pause to say, "Define 'ordinary people.'"

"Mmn," he said, chewing and gesturing with his teacup, apparently indicating Claudio had made a good point. "There's another opposite sort of thing. It seems that instead of claiming and shaping shadows to suit them, the Pattern-wielders tended to look around until they found one that suited them. At least," he qualified, "that's the impression I've gotten from the accounts of those times that I've been able to read. Then, sometimes, they'd build Shadow paths to them. But it doesn't seem to have occurred to them to take steps to ensure those Shadows' loyalty to them. Though I believe they could have; it's not that they couldn't alter Shadows, but that they usually chose not to. I don't know why. But it is, obviously, why only a few of the most closely allied Shadows -- the Golden Circle, they call it -- actually stood fast in their defense, and some of them even joined with us."

Amba frowned at this, worrying her lower lip with her teeth. But she said nothing, looking down at her untouched tea.

Helena glanced at her, concerned, and surreptitiously reached for her hand under the table.

Amba squeezed her hand and smiled back, the frown instantly gone as if it hadn't existed. But she didn't look Helena in the eye -- for if she had, her friend would have seen the frown still reflected there.

Delluth studied the tea tray, obviously planning to choose another item. "At any rate, though I assume Amber was created, or stabilized, or however it came to be, with people already living in it, at this point it seems impossible to say exactly who they were. The place is full of people who've migrated there from all the different Shadows that have been connected to Amber with Shadow paths. Or brought there on purpose by one or another of the Blood. But as far as I can tell, they don't seem to have exercised any control over who moved there. It's downright chaotic." He decided on another sandwich and bit into it.

"Has your mother ever said anything about that?" Claudio asked Helena.

"Mother has been rather vague as to the particulars of how Pattern works," Helen replied, "but I have heard her say 'All roads lead to Amber' as if it were an axiom. I didn't really understand it at the time and assumed Mother was being figurative, but in light of what Dr. Corrino just told us about the large number of people there from various shadows, perhaps she was being more literal than I thought.

"Dr. Corrino, would you say that people only migrate to Amber along established shadow paths, or do they happen to go wandering and find themselves in Amber? Do you suppose it somehow metaphysically draws people to itself?"

Delluth, caught with a sugary confection partway to his mouth, frowned thoughtfully, and ate the treat while thinking some more. "I've heard the phrase in Amber," he said at last. "I always assumed it referred to Amber's economic and political power. And formerly, to the sheer stature of the Royal Family.

"Now, there are beings of various sorts who naturally have the ability to transit between shadows. Whether the Pattern -- because it's the Pattern we're talking about here, really -- whether it could have endowed individuals with abilities they normally didn't have, from a distance? I don't think so. Unless, maybe, a Pattern initiate willed it so. Or ... well, I suppose there might have been some underlying plan within the Pattern that shaped how Amber developed, somehow, and it did that. Perhaps some of those Shadow paths even formed spontaneously, at the beginning of things." He sipped his tea, still thinking hard. "It still seems like an awfully messy way of doing it, though, for a place that's supposed to be so Ordered." He shrugged, and added matter-of-factly, "I doubt that any such property is still active, now that the Pattern has been destroyed."

"I was thinking not so much that the Pattern changed individuals, but that it simply laid a path open before them. Every culture has its stories about people who just one day disappear, or who are led away." Helena shrugged. "Just a thought."

"And not infrequently, places that are associated with such disappearances," said Claudio, nodding.

He set down his teacup and leaned forward, his fingers laced together, gazing at Delluth thoughtfully, his thin face intent. "But that's the way it is with anything you make, isn't it? The end in the beginning. And if the scribing of the Pattern created Amber, and Amber created its Shadows, then everything would have been ... implicit in it, wouldn't it? At least once it was completed."

Delluth looked at him with respect. "Which implies, of course, that it is the way it is on purpose. Chaotic and disorderly elements and all. As I was saying before, both poles of the cosmos include elements of the other pole. Which is why I'm a moderate." He selected another sugar-covered item from the tray, saying, "Not that anyone asked my opinion when the invasions were being planned. And," he added, "not that my opinions were so definite at the time, anyway, now that I think of it."

"Before you'd been there -- to Amber, I mean," guessed Claudio.

"That's right," he replied, and visibly decided against licking powdered sugar off his fingers; instead he reached for a napkin.

Helena considered taking her own confection to eat, but it was more interesting to watch them disappear down Delluth. She sipped her plain tea instead.

"When you say Amber is a 'pole,' are you also saying then that the Pattern has--had--similar power and influence over reality as the Logrus?" Helena asked. "I've heard varying opinions on that subject, but none from anyone I would consider...moderate or unbiased."

"Similar?" he mused, sitting back in his seat with another sandwich. "In that they both have power over reality, certainly. And they seem able to do many similar things. But I have not been able to learn much about how Pattern worked, or works, really; the surviving initiates are either hostile, unavailable, or simply unwilling to discuss it any detail with me. I am well supplied with nerve," he added wryly, "but I'm not willing to press the ones I do know with too many questions. They're awfully suspicious of Chaosians and their motives." The sandwich followed the others, and he sipped his tea, apparently sated for the moment.

"Not without reason, perhaps," Claudio said ruefully. "And from anything I've ever heard, Pattern initiates tend not to be people you want to irritate excessively.

"But either way, it's all about being able to impose your will on the universe, isn't it?"

"One way or another, it usually is," Delluth said, rather soberly, and gazing into his teacup.

Amba closed her eyes for a moment, and her hand relaxed almost bonelessly in Helena's-- but only for a moment before the muscles spasmed, as if she barely controlled them before they reflexively closed the hand.

Even after her eyes opened, the hand was still relaxed as she regarded Delluth. "It's actually a matter of perspective," she said. "Which is something that wielders of both fail to grasp."

Her tone was very calm, very studied, and very matter-of-fact. "Pattern allows movement through reality, in all its shades and variety, while the Logrus reaches through -- either drawing something to the wielder -- or the wielder to something else. It is that simple, and that complex."

Delluth looked up at her, and Claudio promptly memorized his expression for a work to be entitled 'Portrait of Delluth At a Loss for Words.'

It only took a moment; then Claudio's attention went right back to Amba.

Then Delluth said, "That fits. I do know that about the Logrus, and the Pattern would have to be some sort of opposite." He leaned forward a little, with puzzled curiosity in his expression. "But how do you know that, about the Pattern?"

Releasing Helena's hand, Amba finally poured herself some tea, measuring out a precise small amount of sugar, and a similarly small amount of cream.

After stirring, just a bit, she sat back in her chair, shrugging off the question. "Actually, what might be of more interest to you is this little tidbit -- that is if you are prepared to engage in a bit of heresy," she said almost playfully.

"Always," murmured Claudio, ignoring his mother's look of pained resignation.

"These... Ways," Amba said motioning around with her hands. "They aren't so much a creation as they are a juxtaposition. A moving of bits of shadow here and there and a stitching together. Even in creation, the Logrus destroys. And shadow, while it is larger than most could comprehend, is not infinite.

Something* lies behind it. And that *something* is what the

Logrus, and the Pattern, tap into."

She took a sip of her tea, almost sighing in contentment. "And where one anchors, the other tries to send us adrift. Eventually -- oh it would take longer than most of us would even *want* to be alive -- but eventually... without the Pattern, the Logrus would destroy all that exists.

"So, the one called heretic-- his name banished to the 'disreputable' ends of Chaosian lore-- actually saved the universe as it is." Through with her discourse, she sat back, contented, like nothing more than a cat that had just finished playing with a new toy.

Claudio was gazing at Amba with an expression -- his eyes bright and intent, a slight, wondering smile curving his lips -- that someone who didn't know him well might misinterpret as that of a man who had just fallen madly in love.

"I've always wondered..." he said. "Only I conceived it in terms of a metaphor. We talk about both Chaos and Amber casting shadows -- but for anything to cast a shadow, there has to be a source of light. So... What is the source of Being? The opposite, perhaps, of the Abyss, as Order is of Chaos?"

Delluth had listened and watched Amba intently, gradually leaning forward until his elbows rested on his knees. When she stopped, he smiled faintly at her expression, or perhaps at Claudio's questions, and put down his empty teacup. "Actually, they say he created the universe as it is," he mused. "Or as others would put it, attacked and subdued the Primal Chaos that once existed, in which raw chaos surrounded islands of solid reality, which might have appeared randomly or might have been formed by one of the ancient ones.

"I'd like to argue the point about the Logrus," he added, his expression growing abstracted. "Chaos and Order are ... less fraught locutions than Destruction and Creation. But I know better."

As he finished, he turned his left hand palm-up, and Logrus tendrils writhed up from it. "It's always with me, after all." He stared at the tendrils for a moment, the need to concentrate making him look hard and cold and very unlike himself. Then he sent one of the tendrils over to the tea tray; it picked up a cream horn and brought it back to his right hand, and he dismissed them all, looking into Amba's eyes. "And I use it or not, according to my will."

He glanced aside at Claudio. "You ought to be right about there being some opposite to the Abyss, somewhere. It seems the fundamental principles of the universe are opposites. Which is the simplest possible form, of course ..." His voice trailed off as he lost himself in some thought or other, and he absently started to eat the cream horn.

"Ah," Amba said as she lifted a finger. "Consider, but this.

"That delicacy was in *this* reality, but what if it had been in Shadow? How would the tendril get there, and how would it retrieve it?"

"Hm?" He focused on her again, swallowed his mouthful and said, "It would pierce the Shadow Veils, seize the object, and bring it back to me, of course. Would it be less inherently destructive for a Pattern initiate to walk to the shadow, pick it up, and bring it back?"

"What do you think?" she posed. "Less inherently destructive to make yourself part of the reality, and as a part of it, interact with the object, or, as you say, 'pierce the Shadow Veils' and 'seize' the object?"

"Perhaps," he replied, "the fabric of reality resents the intrusion of Pattern as much as it does that of Logrus. I've never seen Pattern in action; have you?" He sat back, his eyes bright on hers, adopting a similar posture of apparent relaxation.

Helena looked about to speak up, then paused and look at Amba, curious as to her answer.

Amba almost smiled at this. "It seems, dear Doctor," she said in response, "that the only way to 'see' the Pattern in action is the same as with its counterpart, the Logrus. That is, to wield it. As I wield neither, I can only speak as to the effect, and through the experiences of others as to the true action. Even your tendrils are only the very tip of the physical manifestation, are they not?"

Claudio made a waving-aside gesture. "Even without that... 'Resents', Doctor? You're ascribing a kind of sentience to reality-as-such that it may or may not possess. Or was that just a figure of speech? But as far as actual disruption of that 'fabric' is concerned... perhaps that's measurable."

"Figure of speech," Delluth said without looking away from Amba. "The fact is, with either Pattern or Logrus, we're still talking about imposing our will on reality. Although Pattern does not manifest the way Logrus does, as far as I know, it must cause some disruption, so yes, it ought to be possible for it to be observed. Except," he added, "as I understand it, I probably don't want to get too close to anyone using Pattern." He tucked the rest of the cream horn into his mouth, then licked a few bits of cream off his fingers, still holding her gaze.

Amba looked at him askance. "And why is that? Why is it that the use of Pattern affects Logrus wielders so negatively, and vice versa? After all, the same bloodline runs through Chaosians and so-called Amberites? And what happens in the case of those of mixed heritage?" She returned his gaze earnestly as she sat up. "There is too little knowledge of what all of this means, and too little interest in finding out. We'd prefer instead to call them pariah and banish them from our minds rather than see if Lord Dworkin knew something that perhaps was unknown in the Courts, and perhaps what he did *needed* to be done." Leaning forward now, she continued, "There is reason behind this 'coincidence of opposites'. Many would say that in that way madness lies, but there is a method to it, make no mistake."

"Good questions," he said, smiling. "Find me a Pattern-wielder who'll work with me and I'll try to answer them." He glanced aside at Countess Ekaterina. "But I think we've stressed our hostess's courtesy enough. And engaging as the conversation is, I really do have to get back to the things I was planning to do today."

"We regret the necessity of calling you away from them, Doctor Corrino," Ekaterina replied with a polite smile, "but cannot regret the opportunity of seeing you again." She rose to take leave of him, and Claudio did likewise.

"Perhaps we can continue the conversation some other time," he said hopefully.

"Knowing you, I'm sure we will," Delluth said dryly, before bowing courteously over his mother's hand. "I'm glad I was able to help," he told her.

Helena stood as well and nodded to Delluth. "Thank you for the stimulating conversation."

Amba smoothly followed suit. "Indeed," she said, nodding.

"I am sorry I have to go," he told them both, smiling warmly -- and perhaps a little more warmly at Amba. "Still, I'm very glad to have met you, lady of Heldt, and to have seen you again, Lady Helena. Please give my regards to your father."

"Of course," Helena replied. When Delluth turned away, Helena looked significantly at his retreating back, then directly at Amba. She smirked.

Amba, the soul of innocence, didn't respond. Though it was a light moment, there was something there that only someone who spent as much time with Amba as Helena had would notice. Even then, it wasn't something that she recognized.

And that concerned Helena. "Yes, we need to talk later," she whispered in Amba's ear, referring to an earlier comment of hers.

Claudio noted the exchange of looks as he sat back down, though he couldn't interpret it.

Delluth said goodbye to Claudio's sisters, and then strode off in the direction of the garden they had arrived in, leaving the veranda somehow feeling much larger and less crowded.

Claudio started to reach for his teacup again, then paused and said to Amba and Helena, "You know, in all the excitement, I never did show you your sketches ... and I promised."

Helena perked up. "We'd be interested to see them. I do some drawing myself."

Claudio accordingly made a dive for his satchel, which he'd set down next to his chair, and extracted his sketchbook. With a slight grimace he flipped over the page of motion studies he'd been working on during Amba and Helena's bout with Pavlo and Rudin; it had some unfortunate smudges on it. A couple of pages back were the portrait sketches he'd done of the two young women during their conversation. He passed the book over to Helena.

She took the book with an anticipatory smile and held it between Amba and herself so they could both see the sketches.

Claudio's talent was apparent at first glance. As might be expected from the motion studies he'd shown them earlier, he had recorded not only faces and expressions, but stances. He had sketched Helena with a light, deft hand, catching the characteristic quirk of her smile and the humor around her eyes. But it was also apparent that he had lingered over his drawing of Amba: the planes of her face, the texture of her hair, and the intensity in her gaze.

"Wow," Amba said, still looking at the book. "These are good! Do you usually colour your sketches?" she asked, looking up at Claudio.

"Sometimes," he said. "I didn't bring my colors today because I figured I'd be concentrating on movement, and that's line, not color."

Helena smiled and pointed to the sketch of Amba. "I like how he did your eyes here," she told her, then said to Claudio, "You're able to capture the essence of the person better than I can. Even in this minimalistic style here, I can see that. Very nice."

"Thank you. That's one of the things I've been concentrating on," he told her.

Just then Pavlo came through one of the French windows. He had obviously washed and changed, though his dress was still casual. He was carrying Claudio's walking stick. "I was right -- Rudin had picked this up for you," he told Claudio, passing it to him. Then he glanced at the tea table. "Are there any macaroons left?"

"A few," Claudio said with a grin. "Dr. Corrino must have missed them."

His mother gave him an admonitory look. "Healing is very strenuous," she said.

"Amba did healing too, and you don't see her decimating the pastries," said Claudio.

Jonmari turned to look at Amba with surprise. "She did?"

"If you want to call *that* healing," she said, self-reproach in her words as she remembered Delluth's words. She frowned as she took a sip of her tea, then set it down, pushing it aside. "Dr. Corrino did all of the *real* work," she added.

"As the recipient of the work in question, I beg to differ," said Claudio. "You gave Dr. Corrino time to get there, and from my point of view that's very far from nothing. I won't forget," he ended quietly, his eyes on Amba.

"Nor shall any of us," Ekaterina confirmed, looking at Amba and Helena both. "The two of you acted promptly and effectively, and for that you have the thanks of our House."

"You're very welcome," Helena replied, her manner rather subdued--perhaps remembering that she was the one that injured Claudio in the first place. She looked at Amba. "We should be getting back ourselves. Unless you want to stay? I should go back, regardless."

"Yes," Amba said, "as pleasant as this is, it was unplanned, so it would probably be good to get back."

"I'm glad that you're well, Claudio," she added. "That's all the thanks that I... that we... need," she said.

All of the Barimens rose, this time, to take leave of their guests.

"Look for me at your next match," said Claudio. "I'll be cheering you on." He grinned. "From the stands, this time."

"Thank you for your hospitality, Lady Barimen," Helena said. "Claudio, Pavlo, Jonmari...it was a pleasure to meet you."

Helena bowed to the Barimens present and pulled out a trump.

Amba followed suit, mirroring her bow. "Until we meet again," she added.

When Amba was ready, Helena activated the trump and pulled both of them through.