Time Under Chaos | TimeUnderChaos / Tea Party at Five Corners

Index | Time Under Chaos | Game Logs | Tea Party at Five Corners

Morgan slid off his sword belt as he entered the house, and laid sword and belt on a table near the front door. He walked around the room, examining the art and the books, while waiting for Tear to return, and happily agreed to join her in the kitchen. "Food, a beautiful girl, and sharp knives, how could I resist," he says with a smile as he follows her. He caught Jurt's eye and nodded his head when Solitaire asked him to join them.

Jurt's blade was laid beside Morgan's and he excused himself politely, trusting in his rival to ensure Tasha's taken care of.

Tear blushed brightly at Morgan's praise, flattening her velvet dress nervously. She led them into the kitchen; without doubt, the largest room in the house. The room smelled of herbs and spices, an exotic air that whispered of forgotten marketplaces and hidden delicacies. A large island dominated the middle of the room; its marble top polished to a high sheen. Despite the overwhelming number of pots, pans, and cutlery, everything appeared to be set in perfect order and clean enough to eat from. A complete juxtaposition to the chaos in the living room.

Tear pulled out some fresh wild mushrooms, green onions, and shallots. "Master Morgan, could you begin chopping those?" she says, pointing to the copious number of chopping knives. "And Master Jurt, if you could please fill that pot there with some water and set it on the stove? Thank you."

"Master Morgan doesn't chop plants," Morgan answered. "Luckily, Captain Morgan does." He winked at her, then selected a knife and began chopping.

Tear turned eight shades of crimson and gave him a meek smile. "I'm sorry, Captain. And thank you."

She fetched a heavy skillet and a bowl, before going to her cooler to retrieve some pre-cut tasso and a jug of cream. "So," she said. "There's more to this than you've been letting on. Am I right?"

Jurt set to his task but never took his concentration from Morgan. "Something about my brother?" He's obviously not speaking of Mandor.

"We're moving to State Secret territory here," he answered. "A secret which unfortunately far too many people already know about. Or can at least make some good guesses about." He sighed, then continued. "Honestly, this whole thing this morning is not that big a deal to me. Backstab Boy suckered Johnny into attacking Mandor, as a way of capturing him, and, I suspect of flushing out anyone in the castle or city who is willing to make a rescue attempt. Fine, it's all amusing, in a sad kind of way. But there was an unexpected consequence. Rissa brought up the Pattern to aid in controlling the fires, while she was standing right next to Merl. He responded badly to the power. Very badly. Collapsed, in fact. We did what we could to pass it off as too much drink, but there are people who now know that Merl is vulnerable to a sudden surge of Pattern energy. And, if Tanstaafl is right about it being some kind of balance thing, he might be equally vulnerable to sudden surges of Logrus power. It is not a good thing to have a vulnerability like that, and it's far worse to have it be known."

Tear paused to listen, her eyes getting wider and wider with each word. "Oh," she said. "Oh my. That's terrible. The poor King. He's lucky to be alive or not in a permanent coma." With a shaking hand, she began to pour olive oil into her skillet. As the skillet began to heat, she walked over to help Morgan.

Jurt frowned, perhaps more expression than he had truly offered since they returned. His hand turned over a cool object in his pocket, forgotten since he placed it there.

"Tanstaafl is right, I suspect," she said, scooping some of the choppings into a bowl. "The King walks a very dangerous line between Order and Chaos. And not by choice. His very blood flows with both of them. I mean. Technically. It's the same could be said for all of us in this room. We all come from Chaos. It's just that some, like you Captain, are just farther removed. But that still gives you some immunity to it.

"And either way, in all of us, one side dominates the other. That creates. A natural resistance. Sort of. But the King…"

She sighs deeply, "Exposure to either would just set up a chain reaction. A psychic feedback loop, so to speak. The unbalanced side trying to take further advantage of the situation. To annihilate the other. And the other trying to defend itself. It'd be like a hurricane, feeding off itself. It's a wonder his mind didn't snap. Poor, poor man."

Tear took the chopped items and tossed them in the skillet. "Is there anything I can do, Captain?"

"Morg, have you ever seen the King shift?" Jurt asked abruptly.

Morgan frowned thoughtfully. "No, I don't believe that I have," he answered. "You might want to ask the ladies at the Queen, they've seen him more intimately than I."

He smiled, then leaned back against a wall and watched Tear as she cooked. "As for what you can do, Baroness, well, that's a good question. Do you think there is anything you can do? Any way to help him maintain his balance? Or any kind of defense against someone trying to use this as a weapon against him?"

"My name is Solitaire, Captain," she said rather abruptly. Almost immediately, she blushed and offered him an apologetic smile. As their eyes met, he could see the true despondency that had been hiding behind her mask of shy composure up until that moment. He'd seen her sad before; everyone in Castle Amber had at some point. But this. This was different.

"And my name is Morgan, Solitaire," he answered quietly.

Tear managed a weak smile and nodded. "Morgan," she said, as if the name gave her comfort.

She turned away and began to stir the vegetables in the skillet, adding garlic and the tasso. "He would need to learn the defensive skills of both the Pattern and the Logrus. I could help him with the latter. But Master Jurt's question would certainly be important with regards to that training. If he can't shift. The Logrus could harm him quite severely. If not kill him outright."

Tear paused for a moment and turned to Jurt. "Has the King even assayed the Logrus?"

Jurt nodded. "Yes, years ago, but my point is, I haven't seen Merlin shift in years."

He put the water on and turned back to them. "As in before he assayed the Pattern. But the Pattern doesn't inhibit shaping, not in what practical examples I've seen."

Focusing again on their hostess, he frowned again. "Tear, I'd be more concerned that your use of Logrus might have similar effects on him, but there's only one way to find that out, isn't there?"

Tear stirred the meat and vegetables as she considered this. A troubled expression crossed her brow, but it went deeper than Jurt's comment. Something far darker and more sinister. She shook it off and shrugged, returning to the question at hand.

"I agree," she said. "I would need someone skilled with the Pattern to act as a possible buffer. Just in case I put him into an unbalanced state. At the very least, I could study the ebb and flow of the Logrus within him. And I have a few spells that might shut down a cascade effect if he began to crash. But. It won't be pleasant for the King. A better question is. Will he submit to it?"

Morgan leaned forward and deftly picked a slice of mushroom out of the skillet, popping it into his mouth and chewing it thoughtfully.

Tear wrinkled her nose and slapped his hand. A playful smile warmed her face. "You're worse than the hairball," she chuckled, staring up at him happily. She added some more butter and then the cream. "Master Jurt? Your pot is boiling. Could you throw enough of that angel hair pasta for the five us in there, please?"

After washing her hands, she resumed stirring the mixture. Her shoulders stiffened as she gazed into the skillet, "Master Jurt? Did the King assay the Logrus before… or after he walked the Pattern?" She turned to look at him, violet eyes glimmering with worry.

"As best I know, the Logrus well before he even knew there was such a thing as a Pattern," Jurt answered as he added the thin pasta to the water, carefully separating it to prevent it from clumping.

"As for whether he'll submit to it," Morgan said, "Well, Merl can be unpredictable where discomfort is concerned. We'd have to convince him that it was necessary."

Tear sighed weakly. "Well. Maybe it's nothing then," she said to herself. The hollowness in her voice said otherwise. After reducing the heat, she looked between them. "I'll need to examine him before I can say more. And I'll need to talk to Larissa. Indeed. She might be the best person to have near me when. I work. She obviously has some control over the Pattern. And the less variables we introduce, the better."

She set her spoon aside and looked up at Morgan. "I have the King's trump. But I'm. No one. He'll listen to you though. Can you help me convince him?"

Morgan sighed. "I'll do what I can. He can be stubborn, though. We need to get Rissa to help convince him. And Jurt." He looked at Jurt then. "Assuming you agree that this is a good idea?"

"I don't think he has much choice," Jurt admitted. "But, yes, I'm with you." He stirred the pasta and judged it still too firm. "What's his other brother said about it?"

Morgan shrugged. "We haven't discussed it since I satisfied myself that Merl wasn't going to be a catatonic idiot after this morning."

Tear stirred her sauce and then offered some of it to Morgan. "Taste," she instructed.

He blew on the spoon to cool it, then took a judicious taste. "Oh, yes," he murmured. "That's nice."

Tear appeared pleased and resumed the stirring the sauce.

Her manner remained reserved as she looked between the pair. "Will the Master even allow me near the King? Or Larissa for that matter? I doubt his mood is. Pleasant. After being shot at. And now that I'm leaving his service."

Tear tried to emphasize the latter, as if trying to convince herself of the words' truth.

"Leaving his service?" Morgan asked. "Have I not been paying attention again, or is this something new?"

Tear couldn't look up at him, her shoulders curving back like a drawn bow. "I found out that he's been lying to me for most of my life," she said. "About my mother. About. Me. And where I come from. I just…"

She brushed her cheek, as if to wipe away a bead of perspiration. A faint sniffle hinted that it was something else. "I just can't be around him. Knowing that I'm nothing more than. An oddity to him. A freak of nature."

Morgan shook his head, a sympathetic look on his face.

"Tear, my dear girl, he treats everyone, even family like that," Jurt reassured her. "Don't think that you're special."

"I suppose I should talk this out with him before I tell him that Ishtar and Sawall are going to war back home," Jurt commented to Morgan as he removed the pasta from the heat, looking for someplace to strain it.

Tear helped Jurt locate a strainer and spaghetti fork so he could rinse and prepare the pasta. She grabbed a foot-stool and climbed up on it so she could fetch the plates down. Now at eye-level with Morgan, she gave him another strange, sad smile.

"War?" Morgan asked. "Now that's gonna make his day. I suppose now I have to actually pay attention to who's in what house. I've been blithely ignoring Chaosian family relationships all these years, and I would have been perfectly happy to go on doing so." He sighed in an exaggerated fashion.

"Is that what Helena mentioned?" Tear said, still atop her foot-stool, plates in hand. "I knew there was some. Disagreement. But I thought I'd heard her incorrectly. Does that mean sides will be drawn soon? Amongst the other Houses, I mean. Will my House. Be involved do you think?" Her violet eyes burned with worry.

"I'm truly not sure what details have gone before," Jurt replied. "The simple truth is I raised that sword out in the foyer to stop Lord Sawall from cutting off both of Princess Fiona's hands. I know Lord Ishtar took the removal of the first one as an attack on his House, and doubt that my healing of the same changed much."

Morgan blinked. "Riiiiiiight," he said. "Jurtie, either you have developed a truly appalling sense of humour, or else things are about to get very interesting indeed."

"I'd like to think my sense of humor is Chaosian, but drawing against my own father is a stretch even for me," Jurt admitted.

Tear nearly dropped the plates, her mouth hanging open in shock. Her face paled and she wavered atop the footstool. "Her. Her hand?" she whimpered. "But that's. Isn't she. A hostage? That's an act of war. Not just. Oh. Oh my…"

She stepped down off the stool and quickly put the plates down. "Oh that poor woman. What is wrong with these people?" she snapped, a dangerous edge in her voice. "No wonder they. Wanted us as far away from Chaos as possible."

Tear blinked as a thought struck her. "Master Jurt. Are Tasha and the others. Guests? Or might they lose a hand too? Oh this is terrible. What will this mean?" She glanced between them desperately.

"Guests, hostages, and pieces on the gaming board," Morgan mused. "Not much difference really, is there?" Then he glanced at Tear and stepped forward, reaching out and touching her shoulder. "Right now there's nothing you can do, Solitaire," he said gently. "Except gather information and watch for danger. Tasha is your guest, and has your protection. So you need to pay attention to anything that could be a threat to her. Helena can do the same for her friend."

Tear initially tensed at his touch, but her apprehension soon ebbed away. She reached up to cover his hand, so its comforting weight could linger. "I will," she said with a nod. "She's my responsibility. And I made a promise to her mother that I'd watch out for her. Now I know why her mother looked so sad when we met her in the courtyard. She must have known."

"Speaking of the young Minobee, perhaps we should ask her to join us in this lovely little feast?" Jurt suggested.

Tear squeezed Morgan's hand and then slipped away from him. "I'll go fetch her," she said. "Morgan, could you set our places at the table? Jurt? The angel hair goes into the bowl first, and then the sauce on top."

She paused suddenly and then turned around to poke Morgan in the chest. "Don't even think about eating our share before we get back," she said in her best approximation of a motherly tone. It came out like a mouse trying to intimidate a bear; not entirely convincing in the least.

Tear gave an embarrassed laugh and then walked out into the inner courtyard.

Morgan watched her go, then picked up two of the plates and began to juggle them as he walked towards the table. "Sweet kid," he said conversationally to Jurt. "Wonder what she found out about your brother that upset her so badly."

"Just that he's been lying to her," Jurt shrugged as he began forking out the pasta. "The naivete is almost cute."

"I miss anything else important?" he asked while she was gone.

Morgan, shrugged, the two plates landed on the table, and he went back to the kitchen for two more plates, which he also juggled all the way to the table. "Chaddie visited the Queen last night," he said. "I think he's made a new friend. He's buying presents for her, anyway." He winced as one of the plates landed on the table a bit harder than he had expected.

Jurt looked amused. "I'm sure that his mother will have something to say about that." He seemed almost scandalized when he dwelt on the subject. "Hopefully the new ladies of the court will distract her as well as they do Merle."

"And is that why the Power Behind, Under, Over, and All Around the Throne brought them here, then?" Morgan asked, as he sorted out silverware, trying to decide what would look most artistic. "To distract the king? Or did he know beforehand about the coming war, do you think, and this was a way to get his daughter to safety, with the other girls just providing a covering excuse?"

"You're asking me to anticipate Mandor?" Jurt laughed as he finished filling the plates. "I'm sure he knew of the tensions, but I doubt he could have anticipated our father's actions. If one action was convenient enough to fulfil three needs, Lena's safety, the King's distraction, and the opening of Tear's eyes... I suppose I'm flattered that I could be of such use to him and the Throne." Jurt's sure the sarcasm isn't lost on Morgan.

[Morgan] settled on two forks of different sizes to the left of each of the four plates, a sharp knife and a rounded blunt one to the right, two spoons crossing each other above each plate, and a small hooked implement of uncertain provenance laid at a diagonal between the spoons and knives.

"Where does she keep the glasses, I wonder," he mused.

"Got me, it's my first time being entertained here myself," Jurt admitted. "She seems quite taken with you, I must say."

"Sweet girl," Morgan says in answer, opening cabinets and peering inside. "Bad judge of character. Aha!" He began removing glasses of a variety of sizes and shapes, and started bringing them out to the table, heedless of whether they bore any similarity to each other. 'Three each sound right to you? One for water, one for wine, and one for fruity drinks with little umbrellas. Only, where does she keep the umbrellas?"

Tanstaafl wandered in about this moment, muttering about some injustice or another. "… let me tell you! I have my rights you know. But does that matter to them. Oh no, of course not! Women!" He hopped up onto the kitchen island and sat down with an exaggerated grump.

Tear and Tasha followed promptly in his paw prints. The young sorceress noticed the place setting and grinned brightly. "I see you two have been busy. Sorry to keep you," she said.

Tasha blushed knowing that it was her and not Tear that had kept them all waiting, "I'm so sorry, I didn't realize how long I was taking... We were just talking about shopping and...." she glanced at Tanstaafl to share some of the blame.

Tanstaafl stared back and raised a furry eyebrow. His whiskers twitched as the awkward silence drew out and then he blinked in shock. "Oh! You're trying to pin this on me," he gaffed. "Look elsewhere, sister. I'm just a fox." He demonstrated this fact by idly cleaning his tail with his tongue; deflecting the blame with silence.

"Waiting on a beautiful young woman is never a waste of time," Jurt assured as he drew out a chair for her. "We had an entertaining conversation as well." He offered Morgan a wry grin and stood behind the chair next to Tasha's, waiting until Tear sat before seating himself.

Tear sat down across from Morgan's place, trying to hide her timid smile. She nervously brushed her hair back from her face, "Thank you, Master Jurt." She looked at the table and wrinkled her nose skeptically at the rather interesting selection of glasses laid out. A faint giggle rose to her lips, rather taken with the whimsical display.

"Umm… thank you for putting everything out, Morgan," she said, offering him a genuine smile.

"Oh, dearie me!" Morgan suddenly exclaimed. "I didn't even think to set a place for Tanstaafl. Wherever will he sit?" He winked at Tanstaafl.

Tanstaafl glowered, "How about I just eat out of your bowl, Morgy?"

Tear bopped him on the snout. "Knock it off. You know perfectly well that you get the leftovers when there's company. And in your own bowl. So, just sit there and let us have a nice dinner, will you?." She gazed up at Morgan and gave him a blushing smile. Tanstaafl just rolled his eyes and curled up at his end of the table to watch hungrily.

"Of course," Morgan mused, "If someone took pity on him, and wanted to hold him in her lap while she fed him choice tidbits..."

Tasha was sure that 'she' hadn't meant Tear, who obviously thought Tanstaafl should wait to be fed until after they had eaten. She felt torn between honoring her hostess and the pathetic and hungry look that the little fennec wore on his cute little face. Those sad puppy-dog eyes behind those too-big glasses were just too much to take, "Aww, Tear, you don't really mean to have him sit there staring at us like that all dinner?"

"I truly don't get his appeal," Jurt commented to no one in particular. "With a little shifting my tongue can be just as rough and twice as long." He sipped at the water to cleanse his palate.

"And just as wicked?" Tear mused with a sly smile. She blushed a moment later, covering her mouth with her hand.

Tanstaafl's ears had perked up as his Chaosian maiden came to his rescue. He leapt on the opportunity immediately. His eyes widened even further, all teary and sad in their saccharine wretchedness. Tear's lips pursed tightly as the fennec's gaze bore into her like an overdose of show tunes and unicorns. And, for a moment, she resisted the cuteness onslaught. But when he did the whimper-and-pathetic-tail-thumping combo her willpower finally shattered. "Okay, knock it off! You win," she grumbled. "You can have some. But only if you sit with Tasha."

Tanstaafl pranced across the table and plopped into Tasha's lap. "Finally, someone that appreciates me," he said, lying his head upon her bosom and batting his eyelashes.

Tasha giggled, cuddling Tanstaafl and giving his cute, big, furry ears a scratch. "But this isn't going to become a habit," she warned softly, though somehow she had a feeling that it might just become one.

Tear gave a snorting laugh and shook her head in mock disgust. "Life around this house will never be the same." She glanced around the table, hoping changing the subject. "Can I pour some wine for anyone?"

"I believe that I shall forgo my usual temperance," Morgan answered. "Do pour some for me, if you'd be so kind."

Tear smiled brightly and poured him a glass and then herself one. She made sure anyone who wished a glass got one as well.

Tasha smiled as a glass was filled for her and passed her way. She would have preferred ale, but she could see that wine seemed to be the drink of choice among the Chaosians and Amberites so she would just have to get used to it; and it did smell like very good wine.

"Please," [Tear] said, gesturing to the bowls. "Dig in."

She waited for everyone to start; grinning to herself. "You know. I don't think my kitchen has ever had this many people in it all at once. I think. It should happen more often. Thank you. All of you."

Tear lifted her glass, color rising to her cheeks. "To friends. Old and new."

Jurt smiled at her toast and the smile was warmer when offered in turn to Tasha. He offered Morgan a little nod of the head, as such a smile really wouldn't do for the Captain. "To friends."

"Friends!" Morgan repeated, raising his glass. "Long may they wave!"

Tasha murmured, "Friends." It was an odd sound on her tongue. She couldn't ever recall having made a toast like this ever before, or being included in one like it, either. Her eyes caught the warmth in the smile that Jurt had offered her and she returned it, with a bit of heat rising to her cheeks. Yes, she was definitely going to enjoy being in Amber.

One excellent meal later, and the washing up duly completed, the participants were ready to depart in their different directions ...

Morgan kissed Tear and Tasha on their cheeks, and told them seriously, "If you need anything, just send a message. I'll be there as soon as I can." He clapped Jurt on the back, belted on his sword, and was off.

Tasha smiled at Tear, "I'm sure you must have many things to do since you've been away... I think I'll just wander around the Five Corners. I promise I won't get lost; I have an excellent sense of direction. You could say I've a... talent for finding my way home." She sniffed ever so slightly.

Continued in Wolf Whistles

Tea Party at Five Corners—Tear, Jurt, Morgan, and Tasha