Roland and Landon

[Wired*Nun]

Landon finds Helena deep in wedding preparations, adding her usual energy to the already frenetic activity. Still, she drops her stitching to leap into her husband's arms, locking her face to his for what seems like minutes.

"Isn't it wonderful! Another wedding! Everything is blessed in the realms of the gods! And you among them, my love, my all...why do you look that way? Are you troubled?"

[TreyKincaide]

Landon looses himself in Helena's arms.

I always return only to leave again.

"I can never pull one over on you, can I, dear?" he says as he slumps into a nearby chair. He sighs, "And please, don't call us gods. It's a dog and pony show for this Shadow's benefit, nothing more. The older I get, the more I enjoy living beside dwellers rather than over them."

"There's always something. No sooner do I arrive, than I must leave. The more important I become, the more questions I have and less answers than I started with."

"I brought a guest with me that I must escort home. By appearances, it seems that he's responsible for saving my life, but I fear that he's leading me into a danger that I can't even begin to comprehend. The place that I'm going is worrisome by itself--one that even my gifts cannot protect me against. I'll be completely at the mercy of my host and surrounded by vipers at every turn beset by enemies on every side. But I can't refuse."

Landon chuckles ruefully, "And for all that, I think I'm most concerned about how shitty of a husband I've been and what kind of father I will be. Always galavanting off somewhere leaving you behind. Coming home nearly dead. Being paranoid and suspicious of everyone and everything. I worry that our child might grow up as resentful and spiteful as I did."

[Wired*Nun]

"We can always return to Rome, or to some realm of your finding, lose ourselves in the worlds between worlds...can we not? But you would not like that either." Taking his face in her hands, she smiles. "You crave the adventure even as you bemoan it, I know, as I crave hearing of it, and await your return. I am content."


"I brought a guest with me that I must escort home. By appearances, it seems that he's responsible for saving my life, but I fear that he's leading me into a danger that I can't even begin to comprehend. The place that I'm going is worrisome by itself--one that even my gifts cannot protect me against. I'll be completely at the mercy of my host and surrounded by vipers at every turn beset by enemies on every side. But I can't refuse."


"If you cannot refuse, then you must go, but must you go alone? You have friends, allies at least, I know it. Seek counsel with the Lord Corwin, or others of your stature, or the cousins you have told me of. Please, I beseech you, gird yourself as well as you may, with all the tricks and powers at your command. If you cannot avoid something, then at least be prepared."


Landon chuckles ruefully, "And for all that, I think I'm most concerned about how shitty of a husband I've been and what kind of father I will be. Always galavanting off somewhere leaving you behind. Coming home nearly dead. Being paranoid and suspicious of everyone and everything. I worry that our child might grow up as resentful and spiteful as I did."


"Let us leave that to the future," she says, patting her belly. "For me, I know that you are what you are and would be nothing else. Your love is enough for me, and I know you will always come home if you can. If you do not return, I will mourn you for seven years, and raise our child as befits the wife of a Lord of Shadow. Yes, I have heard them whisper. I know what you are called, even if I do not know what it truly means, and in his time, he or she shall be such as you are too." Her eyes are shining and bright, and again he wonders what he did to deserve such devotion. I so want to believe she is not just a creation of Corwin's, that she is real and really mine...and would have been no matter what...why can't I just take things for what they are?

[TreyKincaide]

Landon sits pensively for a moment before relaxing into a grin, "You know, I'm having a hard time getting used to the fact you're always right. It's a trial, but somehow I'll have to come to terms with it," he winks.

"Things will sort themselves out one way or another. Play with time a bit. I have a few favors I can call in. Roland. Maybe Asmundson if I can find him. I didn't treat him fairly before, and I should give him a chance. I miss his shadow." Landon falls into tangent thinking aloud briefly.

He shrugs, "But that should be thought for later. I'd rather talk about what you've been doing, and what we're going to be doing once I get back. Once things are square with Eric, for Gray's sake, I was thinking about looking for my real mother and wanted you to come along. After that we could find somewhere nice to settle down for awhile."

Landon basks in his wife's attention attempting to little negling doubts that crop up. Try as he might to ignore them they intrude on his thoughts. Resolved to not allow them to spoil his visit he pushes them to the back of his mind not gone but happily quiet. Landon relaxes with Helena for as long as he's able.

[Wired*Nun]

"You know I will be happy to accompany you to the Underworld and back, if you desire. However, I will not welcome Hades' introduction to our child, so perhaps we should plan that for either very soon or very much later?" Her narrative extends into a description of her preparations and social contacts, and Landon realises that, should he ever really settle down, he could do no better than to have her run his household. Just like any good Roman aristocrat, though she is common-born...I guess when you synthesize your own shadows, you can stitch together the best of everything...

After the dalliance, and the connecting, the only question remains, the eternal question: What will I do next?

[TreyKincaide]

While Landon cleans and freshens up he ponders possibilities.

Gird yourself. Gird yourself. First, what do I have at my disposal? Sorcery. I need to rack spells. I can hear Merlin yelling at me now.

"Lazy idiot. Why do I bother to teach you Art when you don't bother to use it. Now, go rack every spell again. If you don't have time make time."

Sorcery isn't my only personal asset. Although, getting into a fist fight in the courts isn't my idea of a good time. I'll need a serviceable weapon in case I'm manipulated into a physical duel. I have to keep my options open. Sorcerous or otherwise. Besides, I've gotten used to the feel of Grayswandir hanging at my hip. I don't trust the machinations of the courts to provide me with something that won't conveniently break. Eric might be able to provide me something or point me in the right direction; He might even relish the ability to be a generous father.

Allies. Arthur unquestionably. The other two dogs should stay here. They don't have enough experience; I haven't taken enough time to raise them properly--something that I'll remedy when I settle down.

Maybe Asmundson. He wanted to adventure after all. Maybe I just needed to grow into his shadow ideal. Funny thought that. We change Shadow to fit our whim and they change us in turn. Gray might know where he is. He seems the type to give second chances. Regardless, if he's intimately connected with the Nightmare that Luke's apparently unaware of it might not be a bad idea to keep him close.

As to family... Well, Roland and I seem to be on better terms. He might be willing after that Maze business. Kat. Raevyn. No, I don't know either of them well enough to ask. Besides, they were prisoners of the Courts; I doubt they'd be eager to visit so shortly thereafter. Arrotel's on Hendrake's bad side, but he might be willing.

That about does it. Sorcery, sword, Allies in that order. Further planning can wait until that's all finished.

Landon slips on his overcoat relishing the feel as he whistles for Arthur and begins shifting shadow to somewhere nearby and private to pick up a little time to rack spells. He figures about two days of work ahead of him so he tries to speed up time appropriately to minimize the time the demon is in Amber. Leaving Arthur to stand watch, he'll take the necessary time to tidy up metaphysically, rest as needed, and eat.

Once finished, he'll return with Arthur in tow and look for Eric and Gray.

If he happens upon Eric, he'll ask if it would be possible to take a functional sword from the armory.

If he happens upon Gray, he'll ask if there's any way she might be able to tell him how to get in contact with Asmundson.

If both are indisposed, he'll try to trump Roland and Arrotel in that order.

[Wired*Nun]

Eric is easily found, holding court as the rightful King. In fact, there are already flunkies and gatekeepers, one of which makes the mistake of trying to interfere with Landon's passage. His cries of protest as he is moved bodily aside are swallowed quickly as one of the Garrow grabs his elbow and whispers in his ear. The man turns pale and soon disappears.

Seeing Landon, Eric takes a break, closing up the court for an early lunch.

"You look rested, son. Getting ready to run off? A blade? There's not much of quality here yet, so why don't you take mine?" He unclasps his belt and hands it, blade and all, to Landon. Slightly heavier and shorter than Greyswandir, it fits his hand nicely, and shimmers as he opens it a few inches. Some kind of tracery...another Pattern blade? Of course...even if the original Eric didn't have one, this one is Constructed of that...stuff...

"You know, I'm going to leave this place to Gray and Heldrik soon. I have to go, do some things...talk to some people...I wanna be a real boy!" This last in a grinning falsetto, Pinnoccio voice. "I have to shake free of whatever strings are on me...I think Heldrik is going to try to help me. But you can call me any time..." He looks wistful. With a start, he leaves off with the melancholy and smiles. "Good luck, son."

[TreyKincaide]

Landon nods thankfully at the Garrow who prevented a scene, and listens to Eric touched by the display of genuine emotion more than he thought he'd be.

As Eric leaves off Landon reaches out with a free hand, the sword in the other, and clasps him earnestly on the shoulder, "Thanks, dad." He pauses unsure of what to say but forces himself to continue, "Don't give up on me; I'm slowly learning what it means to be a man in spite of myself. I plan on looking for my mother, and I'd welcome some company when the time comes. Maybe...maybe if we can find out what went wrong together, we things can make things right. I need to know so my kid isn't as messed up as I am."

"Well, anyway, I should be going. I'll do what research I can and let you know. Goodbye, father," he squeezes and releases his grasp.

There's a finality there that I'm not sure I'm comfortable with. If I wasn't committed to going, I'd stick around a little longer. Maybe when I get back. Bah. Always maybe. When I get back...I can't piss it away like all the important stuff I used to.

Landon turns and motions Arthur to follow. He proudly fastens his father's blade as he flags down a servant and asks for his sister's whereabouts. If she's available he'll head there directly. Otherwise, he'll give up on bringing Asmundson along and Trump Roland eager to be off figuring that the sooner he leaves, the sooner he'll return.

[Wired*Nun]

"Well...we never stop learning, me most of all." The squeeze is returned, firmly. "Good luck in your quests." His gaze is thoughtful as Eric watches Landon go.

Gray is found talking to a group of about an hundred Garrow in a moderate-sized audience chamber. Striding before them as they stand near the walls, her in the center, she appears more wolflike now, her eyes gone silver, her hair wild, her nails like claws. Speaking to them in a language harsh with gutterals and wilder sounds, she sounds as if she is berating them, or rallying them, or perhaps, inspiring them with a story.

She breaks off as she notices Landon standing, watching, and she strides over to him with the swagger of a barbarian princess. Embracing him, she holds him back at arms length. "What would you have of me, brother?" she says with a wolfish grin. From any other woman this might be an invitation for a roll in the hay, so forward is her demeanor.

[TreyKincaide]

Landon's head lolls to the side and he grins, "Why to say goodbye of course. I wouldn't depart without a word to my favorite younger sister. Rather than leap blindly forward, I've undertaken preparations to ensure that my journey to the Courts doesn't end up with you seeing to my backside again." He pauses with a chuckle to hide that he's struggling to continue.

"I'm doing something that I haven't ever done before, and its a little difficult. Asking for help doesn't come easy," Landon takes a deep breath, "but I need allies to accompany me." He stops and puts his hand up, "No, I wouldn't ask to take you from your wedding preparations, Heldrik wouldn't forgive me. No, I have something else entirely in mind. Would you...could you tell me how to get in contact with Asmundson?"

"You see, I feel guilty for brushing him off before," Landon stops and looks out the window, "and I miss the friend that my own paranoia cost me even if a Shadow isn't the same." He shrugs past the melancholy. "Anyway, the first time we met he expressed desire to adventure together and I'd thought I'd ask him if he'd want to go."

[Wired*Nun]

"Why of course you have my permission to take my pet sorcerer along. I have no need of him here among my people." She gestures about her with one hand upturned. "Perhaps you can teach him a thing or two from your own extraordinary powers." Landon realises she is speaking for the audience. "I believe your own tame hounds are attending him and the other guests on the barge we arrived on, under the care of the good Mrs. Hendriks. Seek him there, and go with my blessing." Reaching out with both hands, she draws him to her and kisses him full on the lips, hard, but chastely, then shoves him firmly backwards. "Away, my brother. Stride once more among the gods."

[TreyKincaide]

Pet sorceror? Laying it on a bit thick isn't she? Or is she? Has her time here changed her into what the Garrow wanted her to be once again exactly as she feared?

"Fare thee well sister," Landon says as he turns and exits the audience chamber. "At least finding Asmundson shouldn't prove too difficult since he's here in this shadow," he mutters as he makes his way out of the restored castle. He stops at the outside guards and asks to be shown to the floating chariot upon which the King returned to the People. Following behind he walks quietly in thought.

[Wired*Nun]

Landon is directed down the hill to the docks, where the barge they arrived on is the largest vessel there. Locals, kids mostly, are looking at the odd boat - not something normally used outside of rivers, and certainly different than anything in their experience.

Asmundson and Mrs. Hendriks wave from the deck, a hand and a frilly handkerchief respectively. Arthur puts his paws up on the railing, and his mates set up an uproarious barking until they he silences them with a sharp word.

The man on watch welcomes him on board with a salute. The rest are probably off enjoying the hospitality of the warf... Waving him over, Asmundson pours Landon a glass of iced lemonade and pulls out a chair. Arthur sits down decorously at his side.

"All the comforts of home, dear boy, courtesy of our hostess. She has an extraordiary icebox and larder, a woman after my own heart." The dowager Mrs. Hendriks titters and makes a shooing motion.

"Oh, you do praddle on, John, joost like my lade hubsband, Gott rest his sowl." The twinkle in her eyes is proof enough that she is taken with Landon's portly friend, and perhaps he with her as well. She's not so old, really, and I don't imagine Asmundson is looking for children...they could make a worse match...

[TreyKincaide]

Landon sits in the proffered chair and smiles. He absent-mindedly scratches Arthur behind the ears as he sips at the lemonade. He sighs contently, "Ah, that's mighty fine. My compliments and thanks, madame. I do not believe I've had the pleasure of a proper introduction. I am Landon." He smiles and nods at his gracious host as he relaxes in his chair.

"Well, as much as I had wished this was a social call I'm afraid that I'm here for a specific reason. I'm about to depart on an adventure--one that has me worried--and I ask that you, Asmundson, would accompany me. It is guaranteed to be dangerous for we shall venture to the end of everything and risk our very souls."

Landon pauses as his request sinks in, "I know I have not been exactly genial in our past dealings, but I do believe I'm a different man than the one you knew before perhaps a little older, a little wiser, and a little closer to your original expectations."

"I do believe the risk will be worth your while. As a Scientist, I can rightly say that your professional curiosity will be piqued for we will venture to the creche of all life. Additionally, I have recently recieved further insight into the mysteries that surround your faith. While I intend to share these insights with you regardless of whether or not you agree to accompany me, time is of the essence. My guide does not belong in this place and his simple presence here pains him. Thusly I'm afraid that discussion will have to wait for another time. Regardless, I bear you no grudge whatever you decide. What say you?"

[Wired*Nun]

"Oh, my dear fellow, you know I cannot resist an adventure that promises scientific discovery! Of course I will accompany you, my friend. You have nothing to apologise for. I know how your extraordinary life and family prey upon the mind, providing weight beyond anything ordinary man can bear. The creche of all life, do you say? Capital idea! I can be ready in one hour, or sooner if needed. Just let me change into my traveling duds, as the Yankers say, and let's be about it!" Asmundson stands, bows to Mrs. Hendriks and heads below.

"Oh, dear me, you are takingk away my dear John, teufel rot you!" The smile on her face belies her words. "Of course, mens shall be mens, as they say in your country. Oder, neffer come between a boys and his toys, as dey say in mine. But I do have one qvestion - who shall navigate me back to my belofed lowlands? For we are far off zha gebeaten passway, I beleef." Her quizzical expression reminds Landon that, for all her overcivilisation, she seems to be no fool.

[TreyKincaide]

"Why madame, I'd be happy to guide you back to familiar waters. Asmundson and I have a long journey to make and the less time on horse back the better; my back side is still tender from a nasty injury I recieved some time ago. If you're amendable, I need to collect my companion, and we can depart at your leisure," he smiles.

He looks to the two female dogs and gives them both a hug, "Take good care of the Lady while I'm away." He flags down a servant, asks for two ready horses be brought to the barge and for whereabouts of the demon.

Landon fetches his Demon companion and arrives back a short time later ready to set off. Once the barge pushes away from the shore and gets under way, Landon starts shifting shadow in accordance with a description that he elicits from Ms. Hendriks. Happy that things are off to a good start and excited to be traveling again, he finds a private section of the barge and attempts to Trump Roland.

[Shutter]

Contact comes without too much difficulty, perhaps a slight feeling of differing time streams.

"Hello again Cousin, how have you been?" The remains of a glorious sunrise show accross rolling hills behind Roland. Stripped to the waist and holding an elegant longbow, Roland seems content and peaceful. His hair has grown a couple of inches, and he sports a deep tan.

[TreyKincaide]

Landon sits with his back to the railing of a barge. Behind him a large body of water narrows into a tributary the shores a rolling green contrasting the deep blue sea. He looks exactly the same as their last encounter except he sports a new sword at his hip--shorter, slightly more square, and slightly heavier looking than Grayswandir. It looks familiar somehow.

He grins, "Nice to see you again Roland. I figured you would come out in the wash. I'm not too bad. The last couple of days have agreed with me. I'm surprised I'm back at a 100 percent so soon. Even the Pattern didn't take as much out of me as our last rendevous although, there's nothing a good woman can't fix I always say."

"Anyway, I called because I have information to share regarding what happened after we last parted company..." he pauses sighing, "and to ask for your help."

[Shutter]

"Information is always welcome, and the help I'll be happy to give." He pauses and thinks for a moment. I don't trust Trumps to be private is perhaps faintly overheard. "Give me five minute perhaps to prepare and I'll call you back?"

[TreyKincaide]

"Gotcha. Seems you're ahead of me time-wise by a great deal. I'm pretty close to Amber Standard at the moment as far as I can figure, so take as much time as you need and give me call when you're ready. I'll be here floating up yonder river without a paddle," he winks.

[Shutter]

"Soon then." With a slight bow Roland breaks off the contact.

[Shutter]

When the call with Landon is finished Roland looks around and gathers up his morning supplies. After a few minutes of pulling arrows from a target bale he sets off at a jog back to the compound the Order simply calls Home.

Amber standard, I like the term...no rush at all then.

Roland stows the practice gear where it belongs, greeting some of the Brothers on the way, saying some farewells. A few seem surprised, a few wish him well. By and large the Brotherhood is a stoic bunch, accepting life's little ups and downs, feasts and famines.

He showers, shaves, and trims his hair to something a little more manageable, then dresses for the road, light but sturdy attire. Grey and green, falling into the family habit of defining himself with a color without really thinking about it. Looking himself over in the mirror as he dresses Roland is pleased with what he sees. His eyes are calmer, deeper than they were when he arrived. This place is good for my soul...Father chose it well.

When Smoke hangs at his side, he opens a heavy wooden chest at the foot of his bed, withdrawing his satchel, already packed for departure. A quick check verifies that his sketchbook is there where it belongs. He removes the Trump decks and afixes them to his belt at the proper places. He closes his eyes and reaches out to the time flow of Regan, slowing it down, putting it back in line with Amber once more. He mutters a quiet thanks to the shadow and its inhabitants for letting him borrow so much time. Letting?

He shuffles out Landon's Trump and focuses, extending...

[Wired*Nun]

Only a few moments pass before Landon receives another Trump call.

[TreyKincaide]

Landon hoping that it's the expected return call from Roland answers, "Hello?"

[Wired*Nun]

It's Roland.

[Wired*Nun]

Landon answers, "Hello?"

[Shutter]

Roland, cleaned up and ready for travel extends a hand to Landon. "If you're ready..."

[TreyKincaide]

Landon grins and grasps Roland's hand firmly. He pulls, and Roland finds himself in a secluded corner of a large river barge. Landon stretches, starts petting Arthur, and lounges propped up against the railing making himself comfortable, "Glad you could make it. Pull up some deck. I'm taking advantage of this little boat ride that may or may not be taking us further from our final destination to fill you and one of two other traveling companions who'll join us on the next leg of our journey in on what's going on. He's below getting his belongings in order and should be up shortly. It's a pretty long story," he shrugs. "If you don't want to come after hearing the tale, then you're welcome to disembark when the barge lands with no ill feelings." Landon smiles amicably and ruffles Arthur's fur playfully.

[Shutter]

"By all means. I've always been a fan of long stories." I wonder who is going to be joining us?

If Landon waits a while before beginning Roland will take the time to summon the sign of the pattern and take a quick glance around before dismissing it, as a test run. Now wouldn't that be a rude surprise? The techniques I practice in Regan fail to work out here....

[Wired*Nun]

Pattern summoning works just fine here. In fact, Roland feels himself to be somewhat near to Amber.

[TreyKincaide]

Landon ponders for a moment, "Perhaps I misspoke. I think there's a part of the tale for your ears alone that can be shared while we wait. It wouldn't do for those outside the family to hear of our moments of weakness."

He sighs, "So, when last we left our intrepid hero and his faithful canine companion," Landon chuckles, "him and his cousins led by their friend, Asmundson, surveyed the great mysterious design known as the Maze. Sorry. Couldn't resist the setup," he grins and shakes his head.

"Anyway, there I was looking out over the Maze what seems to be an eternity ago and I was overcome by a terrible mental presence forged by Trump and forced through my own defenses. I blacked out to find myself and Arthur in a blue crystal cave..." he shivers unconciously and almost stops his narrative before steadying himself, "from which there was no means of escape. I was starved and tortured in my lightless prison by an entity that was invisible and intangible except when it wished to rain down blows upon me whenever I attempted to use the Pattern. It knew, you see, every time I attempted to warp reality or use my sorceries and would beat me mercilessly for no other reason than to ruin my concentration. I don't know how long I was there or the identity of my warden, but I'll remember that entity's shrieking voice until its dying day. Eventually, I'm shamed to admit that my reserves failed. Every prisoner's rebelliousness fades as they become accustomed to the negative consequences--some take longer than others--but given that timeless hell I could have been there for years or decades waiting for any means of escape. I was broken in body, mind, and soul when Corwin rescued me by means and for reasons of his own."

[Shutter]

Satisfied that his control over Pattern is sensible Roland puts away the lens and settles in to listen to Landon's tale. A tale that begins, surprisingly enough, with Landon a broken man.

"A blue crystal cave? I read about a cave like that once, in Corwin's tale, or perhaps it was Merlin's....Merlin's I think. I..." Roland's mind runs a quick couple of laps in a game of catch up. Rinaldo's cave...Won't mention that I saw him only a few months ago...days here...

"I interrupt, rude of me." Quiet and attentive, Roland waits for the next part of Landon's story.

[TreyKincaide]

Landon shakes off the memories finding that each retelling makes it a bit easier to do so. He waves a hand good naturedly, "No, don't apologize for asking questions and expounding. You're right to mention it for you are indeed correct. I don't know if its the same one though Merlin's story bears a marked weight on my own. I never got around to reading it in its entirety even though I meant to."

"There's not much more to tell privately. With Corwin's help possibly attonement on his part, I built myself back up and worked as his agent for some time doing this and that the details of which are not mine to divulge in spite of the fact that he was party to my incarceration. Took some vacation. Got myself beat to shit more times than I can count," he shrugs.

"Luke's crazy scheme to move the Maze worked in case you were wondering. Damned near burnt myself out channeling for him, but the rest of that story should really wait until Asmundson finishes packing since it involves our current excursion."

He pauses, "I bet you're also curious on why I called you. Well, there's a number of reasons: me not being very close to anyone else in the family, the others would be less likely to wish to return to our eventual destination, the work we did together at the keep, and, maybe not the least of import but the certainly not the most, our fathers had a history of working well together. Gray was correct; she and I are siblings."

He chuckled, "I'm a regular Tree of Knowledge today. Only fair, I suppose, seeing as I'm going to pose a devil of a request later on. For now though, you mentioned reading Merlin's tale. Does it describe within its pages some type of creature that can
function as I described and possess others as exampled by some classic Shadow portrayals of demons connected to Merlin or Luke?"

[Shutter]

So, he bears no ill will for his imprisonment?...They must have broken him well...and remade him even more carefully.

"So, it's Asmundson we're waiting for?" A raised eyebrow indicates Roland may have more to say about this when the time is more appropriate.

"As for demons, Merlin describes on that can posses people. Mortals only I think. As for the formless invisible tormentor?....No, I don't think I remember anything like that. I could be mistaken though, on either or both counts. It has been a few months since I read some portions of the tale. Others, a little closer to home, I studied in more detail."

If he still uses information as currency he is paying me a hell of a large fee in advance...

[TreyKincaide]

Landon stretches. "Yes, Asmundson is the third of our party," all he says in response to Roland's puzzlement.

"Damn, I had hoped you'd be able to elaborate a bit, but no matter. I'll get around to reading it sooner or later," he shrugs. Aside from that single question Landon doesn't ask for anything else. "If there's anything else you wanted to know..."

[Shutter]

Roland gives a dry chuckle at the question. "Anything else I want to know? Always." He smiles and shrugs away the question. "But my questions can wait for now, I would hear what you have to tell Asmundson and myself before I pester you with questions."

[TreyKincaide]

"Ah, no doubt you're waiting for the shoe to drop. Well, I'm sorry to keep you in suspense," he smiles.

"While you're waiting Ms. Hendriks, the owner of the barge, makes a pretty good lemonade if you're thirsty. You wouldn't happen to have a copy of Merlin's book would you?"

[Shutter]

"No need for a drink thanks...Sorry to say I don't have Merlin's book on me. I lent my copy to Katarzyna shortly before we were seperated at the Keep. When she was finished I think Raevyn had dibs on it. Shouldn't be too hard to come up with another copy though right? You never know what's lying around unless you check." Roland looks around the deck of the barge for anything that might manage to conceal a good sized book. The underside of a chair or bench, a pile of rope, an overturned box, anything. With a bit of willpower and focus he decides it is quite likely that a copy of the Great Book of Amber is lying around the deck somewhere, it's just a matter of finding it.

[Wired*Nun]

As Roland takes a few steps, he remembers that movement of a sort is very helpful in such situations, and walks around in circles until he finds the volume he is looking for, apparently dropped there by some careless sailor.

Unfortunately, it's in some language he doesn't really recognize.

Laughing, he refines his parameters, and breaks out in a sweat as he throws his will against the resistance of Shadow. The likelihood of two copies carelessly dropped on the deck, in two different languages, are a lot lower, and therefore, harder to bring about. He notices that Asmundson and Mrs. Hendriks, presumably, are watching his goings to and from with some fascination, perhaps amusement. It's hard to tell.

Finally, he has to go belowdecks and ask if there is a library aboard. He is directed to a small sitting-room with good windows and comfortable seats, where exist a wall of built-in shelvery, with glass cabinette doors to hold the books from shifting. There, he finds his grail. In Thari this time.

Coming back triumphally on deck, he holds it up and waves it at Landon. "If at first you don't succeed..."

[TreyKincaide]

Landon chuckles with a bemused look upon his face, "You know, you didn't really need to walk in circles. The boat itself is moving; usually, that's enough if you're patient. Hell, even when you're not; we could hellride right now if we were feeling surly. I didn't have the heart to stop you as you were so set upon your task. It's easier to bend probability than break it. The first book might have worked losing something in the translation if you would have changed yourself and me to know the language. The devil is in the details my friend."

Landons shrugs, "Although, it's possible that you met resistance from me angling us towards our destination. I set us at a fair clip and all waterways lead to Mrs. Hendriks's home at the moment so I could pause and Trump you."

"So, tell you what, since you're familiar with the book scan through and find what we're looking for while I go back to steering and revealing my reasons for bringing this fellowship together," he genially waves Asmundson over.

[Shutter]

In response to Landon's various critiques Roland's smile falters and fades. He simply shrugs at his cousin. "I've been in one place for a while. It felt good to stretch my legs." When directed to play research assistant he takes a nearby seat and flips through the book, skimming for anything that fits Landon's inquiry. Lazy little...

[TreyKincaide]

Noting Roland's reaction Landon mutters, "For fuck's sake if you're going to get huf-" Did I really used to be like that? He stops, takes a deep breath, and smiles genially, "I wasn't critiquing you, Roland. I was trying to give you pointers in case you didn't know. I never had anything but harsh teachers, so maybe my technique is poor. I'm sorry," he shrugs after saying something the old Landon never would.

"I'd be happy to read the book myself, but I can't shift shadow, relate my story, and absorb the novel cover to cover at the same time," beads of sweat on his brow emphasize Landon's point as he once again turns his concentration towards guiding the barge through myriads of possibilites. "It's important, but I don't know how it relates. I'm trusting you to do something I cannot in the time we have available. I would not have asked you here if I didn't profoundly respect your abilities or your sense of honor."

"I suspect that Luke was manipulated into creating the Maze by some faction as old as the Pattern itself for the idea of a Merging of the two forces is not a new one. It is the Serpent with both eyes open and either the most stable of Powers or the most insane."

"The old Landon you knew is gone and buried. I'm not playing games. Everything we do is deadly serious on this quest for insight. Reality and our lives are at stake; I'm not careless with either. Not any more."

[Shutter]

Noting Roland's reaction Landon mutters, "For fuck's sake if you're going to get huf-" Did I really used to be like that? He stops, takes a deep breath, and smiles genially,

Roland looks up from the book and raises an eyebrow as Landon cuts off the outburst.

"I wasn't critiquing you, Roland. I was trying to give you pointers in case you didn't know.
.....
"The old Landon you knew is gone and buried. I'm not playing games. Everything we do is deadly serious on this quest for insight. Reality and our lives are at stake; I'm not careless with either. Not any more."

"No apology called for Landon, nevertheless it is appreciated. We can talk about the finer points of shadow shifting later if you like." Roland's eyes flick briefly towards Asmundson and Mrs. Hendriks, standing nearby almost certainly listening in. Or if public condescention is your preference...bah, I just hope it's not.

"As far as the book goes, is there anything in particular you're looking for? Or general information? I can't for the life of me think of any dissembodied voice sources, beyond Ghostwheel, and you must have heard about him before. The body possessor demon...what were they called?...no matter. There are a few passages where Merlin addresses them, or the one he was dealing with. I'll start tagging them for you.

[TreyKincaide]

Landon smiles, "I honestly don't know what I'm looking for. Connections mostly. Insight into what happened, for what reasons, and why. I know Ghostwheel. Merlin and I are friends. He taught me Sorcery as a favor to Flora while he was on Shadow Earth before his grand adventure and we've been cordial ever since."

"So, where was I?" he looks to Asmundson, "Ah, yes. Why we're here. Where I've been. Where we are going. Introductions are in order first, I think. Asmundson this is Roland my cousin. Roland this is Asmundson my friend. Now that we are all acquainted, we can get on to business. There's a lot to tell, so I'm being purposely general. Please don't hesitate to interrupt with questions for clarifications."

"About a week ago Roland and I helped our cousin Rinaldo, creator of the the first Maze, move the great Design from its place of power to keep it out of the grasp of invaders who would turn the Maze toward their own ends. I still don't understand the specifics. I was too busy channeling the energy that wells up where four Shadows, Slices if you will, converge as Rinaldo worked what wonders he did to study them closely."

"Now Rinaldo's a hell of a nice guy for being a rebel son of a rebel son of a family of rebels when he isn't trying to sell you something. I can see why he's Merlin's best friend. He's the likable sort with a different idea for every day of the week. In the few times I've met him I've become quite fond of the chap even though you'd be insane to trust him worth a damn. He's too good a salesman and a King of a nation to boot to do otherwise."

"Roland and I were separated during the ritual, and I woke up worse for wear in the new resting place of the Primal Maze. No, before you ask I don't know where it is. Rinaldo awoke a short time later, trumped us out, and I didn't inquire out of courtesy. Sorcerors, Kings, and Salesman are a cagey sort by nature, and I didn't want to press the issue. We all are entitled to our secrets."

"We journeyed to his castle where we rested from our trials, and I was supposedly put up in private quarters to keep me from the usual intrigue of Court. Late the next morning my breakfast was interrupted by someone who announced himself as the King's intelligence man and a fellow Sorceror wishing to compare technique. He was a slimy sort, lean and hungry for power, and I didn't care for the cut of his gib. I recognized his shrill invasive voice," he glances at Roland, "but I couldn't place him. All in all a most unpleasant encounter that I was relieved to be over when he left in a huff when I refused to play whatever game he was after."

"That afternoon Rinaldo and myself road to a vineyard to absent ourselves from the prying eyes and ears of Court to discuss important matters. We talked of conspiracy, who was influencing who, assassination, the Maze, and all things pointing to a bad end. There were a few matters he was unaware of, or seemed to be. You can never tell with that man. He'd give Random a run for his money in a poker game. All evidence suggested that something was going to extreme efforts to discredit him and that something was going on under his nose within his own house. It appears that was what he wanted me to think. I want to believe he's on the up and up."

"Of particular note he was startled, this is the insight that I mentioned earlier, Asmundson, when I asked about the Nightmare. He seemed genuinely astonished. He claimed to have built in safeguards to prevent his creation from attaining sentience, and didn't detect it when we moved the Maze. What that indicates I cannot say," he shrugs rather than voicing his opinions and theories on the matter.

"We returned to the castle, and I retired to my room to prepare for an impromtu state party we planned for the evening to 'see what we could kick up'. We had decided to play our cards close to our chest and try to get to the bottom of this whole mess."

Landon pauses and takes a drink of lemonade, "That evening a new unexpected ally showed up at my window." Landon guestures to the demon that is far from the group on the boot presumably covered so as to not draw undue attention. "Soon there after pounding came from my door. Making a snap decision I went with my new ally and we took flight just as armed assailants busted into my room. The men loosed arrows, and he was injured. We made a hard landing and were hunted through the streets like dogs. We found a moment of respite and Trumped to safety. I believe that I was closer to the truth than someone or thing was comfortable with."

"There after I learned that my rescuer was a Pit Demon serving a Lord of the Rim by the name of Canthus. In addition to saving me he was instructed to extend an offer of invitation from his master, and guide me to him."

"All I know of this Canthus is that he is one of the Great Ones from before the time of Chaos or Amber, and that they seldom meddle in the affairs of men."

"This is the reason I gathered the two of you was to ask if you would accompany me to the Courts of Chaos on the Rim of the Abyss, the creche of all life," he looks to Asmundson, "as friends and allies for I need both dearly."

[Shutter]

"So, where was I?" he looks to Asmundson, "Ah, yes. Why we're here. Where I've been. Where we are going. Introductions are in order first, I think. Asmundson this is Roland my cousin. Roland this is Asmundson my friend. Now that we are all acquainted, we can get on to business. There's a lot to tell, so I'm being purposely general. Please don't hesitate to interrupt with questions for clarifications."

"Hello again Asmundson. I trust the past...." Mental calculation, "week? Has treated you well?"

And then Landon tells his tale. Hmmm.... When Landon gestures Roland turns to look, noting whatever there is to note before turning back.

"Any word from Rinaldo after you took flight? For that matter, how long ago was this?"

[TreyKincaide]

"No. No word from Rinaldo, and this happened approximately yesterday. I hung out for a day in a fast time shadow myself making preparations. Rinaldo has a way of getting ahold of me. He has chosen not to do so leaving me to believe that he doesn't need or want to, he suspects me of something for the method of my exit, or he's incapable of doing so."

"Without knowing, I don't want to act possibily doing more harm than good. I'm following the only tangible lead that I have hoping that its not a diversion to keep me, us, out of the way."

[Shutter]

"Off to the Courts then it would seem? Has your rescuer given any hints about why you are being called upon?"

[TreyKincaide]

Landon shakes his head, "No, only that his master, Canthus, would be terribly cross at him if he returned empty handed unless I made arrangements of some fashion. Your question is one I've given much thought to for I don't have the slightest idea why an entity as old as time itself would show interst in me. There are too many questions, Roland, that just keep leading to more, but that is the way of it, I suppose," he shrugs.

[Shutter]

"Well, with too many questions, I'll dig in here and see if I can peg the main sections to scour for answers...might be something in the details." Roland drops his gaze back to the book in his hands, turning through it and readin quickly, trying to hunt out the passages discussing Merlin and Luke's little demon friend. After some span of time he looks to have four or five passage tagged with strips of paper. Ah, right, dissembodied Demon woman who watched Luke's back out of love, Merlin's out of obligation. Fantastic. Nice and vague.

[Wired*Nun]

"Hello again Asmundson. I trust the past...." Mental calculation, "week? Has treated you well?"

"Yes, capital, my good fellow. In fact, I was just explaining some of the ins and outs of Science to my good friend Mrs. Hendriks, and have even demonstrated my modest skill with rejuvenation. Needless to say, as any female would be, she is pleased to recapture some of her lost youth and vigor, even if only by a year or two."

Roland is unable to judge the accuracy of this assertion, only haveing seen the lady for a little while, but to Landon's eye, it might be true - she is looking a bit younger, healthier, more vibrant. Can't forget that As has a piece of Power in his own right, and it's quite different from what we have, even if he's not from our stock...

The demon huddles under a tarp in the shade of the deckhouse, thoroughly miserable in the reflection of the bright sunlight. Apparently his kind find it inimical.

[TreyKincaide]

"Would I be correct in assuming that repeated treatments would allow you to confer a form of immortality upon a given subject? If so, then you do yourself a great disservice my modest friend," Landon smiles. What better way to see what that Power is capable of than by chumming around wth one of its initiates? A most satisfactory arrangement on many levels although having a friend tops the list.

"I'm afraid the day isn't agreeing with our fourth companion. I'd make it overcast to be more accomodating, but we should be getting close to our initial destination and perhaps it's best he remain hidden lest we frighten the local populace. Unless either of you have any more questions, I've said what I had to say and asked what I had ask. It's up to each of you if you want to continue, and I will not fault you if you don't. Once we disembark and leave Mrs. Hendriks's shadow there's no turning back."

[Wired*Nun]

"Hmmph, well, yes, but it is always just a holding action, for those normally mortal. I exclude the greater beings, of course. Perhaps it would be prudent to arrive in the Lowlands at dusk, for the benefit of our scaly companion and perhaps for ourselves as well. Fewer eyes about then."

And in fact, it is simple to arrive around the dying of the light, the sun setting to the west over the polders and windmills. The lowing of dairy cattle and the braying of mules worked past their suppertime combines with the earthy smell of agriculture to create a brief spell of longing in Landon, longing for the pastoral peace of life before...but not for long, for his eyes soon meet the demon's, promising of the unknown...

They disembark at Mrs. Hendriks' own canalside dock, and a broad path leads up to a villa of moderate wealth, surrounded by hardwoods, a pond with ducks out front. A carriage awaits them all, but Mrs. Hendriks waves them off. "I feel vonderfull, my dear Asmundson, let us valk ab the passway instead."

Landon glances at the demon, wondering what to do with it...

[Shutter]

While Landon and Asmundson discussed their shadow magic Roland is perched on a crate, carefully dog-earing pages. After some time, 30 minutes or so, he approaches Landon and passes off the Great Book of Amber, now sporting a good number of bookmarks. "Tthat's all I could find Landon." He shrugs, "I hope it helps."

[TreyKincaide]

I had hoped to be on our way, but it seems we are to make a brief layover here. It would be rude to spurn her hospitality.

Landon jumps startled by Roland from his thoughts. He throws him a puzzled glance before shaking off his ponderings, "Thanks Roland. I'm sure it will." He smiles. He stows the book in a travel bag and leads the horses off the barge.

His gaze returns to the demon, "Honored Guide, if you're still unable to take flight, perhaps it would be wise to seek shelter in yonder wood until we depart this place. I haven't seen you eat since you helped me, so it would give you a chance to hunt as well as spare you the sight of villagers with pitchforks and the dreaded sun. If we stay longer than planned, I'll come up with something that'll mask your presence if neccessary."

[Wired*Nun]

The horned one bows courteously in the dim light, his eyes glowing slightly. "This one will return to this place in one hour, be that please you, to await the rest of our journey. I believe I shall be well enough healed by then to carry one, though perhaps of Lord of your stature might shorten the journey somewhat by a Trump of some place nearer the Courts?" With that, he slinks off into the deepening shadows.

Asmundson says, "I'll just be a few minutes, gentlemen." He and Mrs Hendriks stroll up the path, accompanied behind by the empty carriage, lit with lamps on the four corners. Landon and Roland are left alone at the dockside while they walk.

After some twenty minutes or so, Asmundson comes walking back up the path, lantern in one hand, walking stick in the other. A raise of his eyebrows indicates he is ready for their next adventure.

[TreyKincaide]

Barring further questions from Roland, Landon uses the oppurtunity to see to the horses. He sets them to graze in a nearby glade after retrieving the family's favorite book from it's saddlebag. He rests himself beneath a shady tree, and Arthur stretches at his side preferring to stand after the water voyage. Landon glances up, "Roland, if you wish to freshen up or get something before we leave--if you've decided to come with me, that is--perhaps you should take the oppurtunity now. I outfitted us well enough, but we are one horse shy. I've ridden the de--guide before and have no objection to doing so again should my mount meet your liking. If you wish anything further of me, please let me know," he says with a smile, "Oh, and if you happen to have a Trump of Thelbane please speak up to save us a couple of days of hoofin' it."

Landon begins thumbing through the the novel paying particular attention to the dog-earred pages. He looks up frequently as he tries to digest the significance therein drawing mental lines in the dirt trying to connect the accounting to the events transpiring around him.

Nadya is a demon once bound by Dara--one that could possess others, but was stuck in the body of a dead woman. I'm surprised that they weren't irked at Merlin for this revelation of his. I wonder how much of this novel is intentional fabrication? I can't see Merlin compromising his friends in this fashion. Maybe I don't know him as well as I thought? Or maybe, Luke and Nadya didn't care who knew the truth--if truth this be, rather than carefully crafted lies within lies?

Luke has two direct connections to Dara--one through Jasra, and one through Nayda. There's that something old something new stink of the Maze. Was Nayda the rat of a Shadow Sorceror, my torturer? Was it a being like her before becoming 'allegedly' stuck? Has she fallen back under Dara's or another's control. Have the demons tired of their masters taking steps to forever ensure their freedom? Still too many questions. Demons sit at the heart of this web, and one is leading us to the center. Let's hope we are not flies.

Landon nods to Asmundson at his return. "We have a little more than a half an hour left until our guide should return. Is there anything further I can do while we wait?"

[Wired*Nun]

"Well, my old friend, I suggest you recraft your scientific structures to ensure their readiness, if any such needs doing. I have reinvigorated my own over the past couple of days, and so I am ready for any opponent!" Asmundson declares with hearty relish.

The demon soon returns, looking well-fed and rested. "I am ready, Lord, to bear you to Canthus, if you have concluded your obligations. We will arrive in much better affair should you be able to speed us along toward the Rim..." he trails off in an hopeful tone of voice.

[TreyKincaide]

Landon can't stop himself chuckling at Asmundson's enthusiam, "Yes, I thought that a good idea myself and attended to my craft in a place near Gray's home adjusted to suit such long under takings. My teacher would finally call me a proper sorceror."

Landon closes the book and stands at the demon's return. "Would that I could. I possess no Trumps of yon Thelbane. If your master is unconcered with the King knowing his business, perhaps, that avenue is available, but only just for I keep no other confidants in the Courts." He grins, "At least not yet."

"As for other arts, scientific," he nods to Asmundson, "or magical, such devices are unreliable in cases such as this when one isn't intimately familiar with their intended destination, especially one so far away. In either case the strain would be dire indeed. So, unless you're willing to walk a Pattern or Asmundson or Roland have means that they are willing to volunteer, we are, regretfully, short on other recourse aside from hoofin' it."

[Shutter]

Roland stands by at the ready, trying to be somewhat subtle about taking the measure of their demonic guide. I should have spent less time in the stereotypical shadows. It does me no good to worry about him simply because he looks like something I've never known to be friendly. He listens for some way he might be able to help, but nothing comes to mind. One cannot Sketch a place one has never seen...Though I really ought to try some time.

[Wired*Nun]

The demon looks dubiously at the three of them, especially at Asmundson's girth, and says, "I cannot bear you all together, my lords. However, if this wretched one could offer a suggestion to great lords such as yourselves, have one of you the art to create a Trump of me? Or, I could bear one of one of yourselfs, which I can call upon when I am close to our destination? Such could simplify matters quite greatly."

[TreyKincaide]

Landon returns the demon's dubious look with one of his own, "I would think that navigating through Shadow in Amber's way would be the simplest method although, perhaps, not as timely as you would wish. If you instist on navigating to your home by your own means, I can ride and Trump the others through."

[Shutter]

Roland suppresses a sigh. No great lord here...But this is Landon's show, he can set our designations. He sets to putting the demon to memory, intending to Sketch him when he and Landon leave. His left hand wanders down to tap his Trump cases, confirming that they're where they belong.

[Wired*Nun]

"I insist on nothing, honored one, but in truth, my respect for you is as nothing compared to my fear of my own Master, and he wishes expedition. I can bear the one of you, and perhaps you can call to the rest when you wish. If so, let us off, and quick." He turns about with a hand to the side, as if to say, "mount up." In doing so, he seems to grow somewhat, becoming more like a large man-size than a small one. Must be some minor shapeshifting, a property of many demons, I have heard...

[TreyKincaide]

"Very well honored guide, but know, in truth, my gratitude will guarantee my indulgences for only so long."

Landon looked down and petted Arthur, "Doesn't look like they have had a pet carrier on this non-stop flight to Thelbane. I'm afraid I'm going to have to have you stay with Roland and Asmundson for the time being. Take good care of my friends. Guide their way."

Landon turns and shakes Asmundson's hand, "Well ole' bean, I suppose this is where we part company for a time. I'll see you on the other side of the wash. To discovery and adventure!"

With a smile he steps over to Roland. Rather than he extend a handshake he offers familial hug. Should Roland accept he takes the oppurtunity to whisper in Roland's ear, "Goodbye cousin. I shall see you again one way or another. Should this be a trap and you don't hear from me, follow Arthur's nose for he could find me even if I were lost in the Abyss itself. Please keep an eye on my best friend for me."

Landon steps back knowing how much he just exposed himself to Roland hoping it was not a mistake. He slings a pack over his shoulder before 'mounting' the demon, "Let us away then."

[Shutter]

Roland extends his hand to clasp Landon's in farewell. "Fly safely cousin. We will speak soon."

[Wired*Nun]

The demon leaps into the air, climbing strongly upward. Below, the shadows already begin to change, and Landon can see a black thread leading forward, growing almost imperceptibly thicker as the miles pass beneath.

They seem to be accelerating as they go, climbing higher until the air grows thin and Landon's breathing becomes labored. Soon, however, the demon descends. Hours have passed, only hours, yet worlds have flashed by beneath, faster than Landon had ever traveled through Shadow. As they drop down, Landon can see the edge of the world coming into view, the Rim above the Void between the Courts and the Black Zone, that he had last seen some years ago, with Merlin. Still, he recognizes the skyline, and the strange stippled sky above, half bands of light, half stars of night.

Landing on the edge of the Rim, on an outcropping overlooking the chasm, Landon observes the filmies twisting in the currents, leading from the Courts outward, and from the Rim inward. "I must leave thee now, my lord, to summon transport fit for several. I suggest you call to your friends, if you would have them attend you in your audience with Canthus." With this, he leaps out into the Void, and fades from view.

Back at Mrs. Hendrik's wharf, Asmundson looks at Roland and says, "Well, my friend, we might as well be comfortable, let's walk up to the house. I'm sure Mrs Hendriks will fortify us with some of her fine sherry if we are persuasive enough."

In Mrs. Hendriks' sumptuously-furnished sitting room, they sip sherry or whatever else Roland may desire, nibble on nuts, and make innocuous conversation, waiting for a Trump call from Landon.

[TreyKincaide]

Landon looks out over of the Beauty of Madness. As he felt before with Merlin, there was a distinct notion of 'not belonging.' You can't go home again, no matter how much you may wish to. This place is forever barred to the House of Barimen, save Merlin. He scanned the Rim for the mythical place that the Unicorn tore herself from the Abyss with the Jewel in tow at the end of Patternfall.

His eyes trail to the demon, and he grunts his assent as the servitor fades from view. He fishes for Roland's Trump and sets his will upon it.

If he should make contact, he extends his hand, "I have arrived. Welcome to the beginning and end of all life."

[Shutter]

Roland follows along behind Asmundson and Mrs. Hendriks, grateful that Asmundson is as talkative as he remembers. Life in a monastery is good for the body mind and soul, but it leaves one's ability to make small talk severly impaired. The basics are there though and Roland makes a passable presentation with well timed smiling and nodding, a short polite sentance here and there.

[Wired*Nun]

[Sorry - assumed you would go ahead with trump contact - nevver ass-ume, my bad]

Roland receives a Trump contact from Landon.

Assuming he accepts and goes through, he and Asmundson say their goodbyes and, after steping outside into the darkness, arrive at the Rim facing across the chasm toward the Courts.

"Remarkable," is all Asmundson will say for a time, as he gazes about himself in wonder.

[Shutter]

Roland simply stands in silent appreciation; a small smile on his lips as he slowly turns in place. Now this will be a challenge to draw...And the Abyss itself...So many stories...So much weight to it all... Without taking his eyes off his surroundings he opens his satchel and brings out his sketchbook. There are other ways you need to know this place... As a test he looks on the ground for the pencil that should be lying just there, next to his boot...a simple wooden pencil...

One way or another he is Sketching within moments, having a few backup pencils near at hand in his bag. As much out of appreciation as a desire for a functioning Trump. Landon will speak to me when he needs to...

[Wired*Nun]

Searching about, Roland eventually finds his pencil a few yards off. Motion...oh, yeah, that helps a lot... The sketch rapidly takes shape and Asmundson is soon sitting on a comfortable rock, looking over Roland's shoulder, making appreciative noises.

It isn't too long after that one of the filmy bridges extands itself toward their position, a squat, froglike creature grasping a two-pronged spear riding on its nearer end. It appears it will arrive in somewhat under a minute. About the same time, a hiss comes from behind them, from a crevice in the rocks, and the head of the creature that bore Landon hither can be seen. He waves a clawed hand indicating they come to him.

"With me, my lords, if you would see my master. You are about to be accosted by a sentinel of the Courts, and it would be simpler were you not to be questioned, yes..."

[TreyKincaide]

"Very well," Landon throws the senitel a parting glance. "Come on Arthur. Let's see where this leads." Landon turns back towards the direction of his guide and makes his way to the crevice.

[Shutter]

Getting too rusty if I'm forgetting to stroll while I search... Roland thinks as he begins to set pencil to paper. When he is interupted a short time later he makes a quick mental note of what needs to be done to finish the Sketch before stowing it back in his satchel and following Landon et al. So this is a clandestine meeting of some sort? Good....wouldn't want anything simple or above board now would we?

[Wired*Nun]

The demon leads them down into the earth, through a narrow twisting tunnel that after a time debouches into a wider, well-worn corridor. The Amberites get the impression of having moved through Shadow as they travel. Sometimes there is a feeling of sudden disconnect, and the view changes almost from one step to the next. It occurs to them that they would have a very difficult time finding their way back even if unopposed...however, there are always other ways...

From time to time small creatures flit, crawl or dash past them, some going the same direction, some toward and past them. Hopping, crawling, flying, they all have roughly human form, though usually with the addition of wings, claws, tails, extra arms or heads. They all get out of their guide's way as they pass.

Once, however, something much larger comes toward them, and the guide draws them into a side passage and presses himself against the wall, not so much hiding as cowering. "Leave it be," he hisses at Arthur's growls. "No matter what the outcome, the Master will be even more displeased than he already must be by delay or destruction."

Eventually they find themselves in a stifling-hot cavern wherein creatures of all sorts congregate, speaking in low whispers or hisses. Once or twice a conflict breaks out, quickly won or lost by those involved. The Amberites are reminded of how a pit full of cats might act if crowded into too small a space. The creatures look over the Amberites, some idly, some with avarice, hunger or hostility. From other corrodors around come screams and moans, as of beings tortured. The classical depictions of Hell are not far off of this scene, though it appears, in the main, dreary rather than horrible.

Crossing the cavern, the guide chooses another entrance, and is unmolested. In fact, the other occupants draw away from them as they leave, as if they don't want to be associated with the group. Just inside the new corridor, they are met by a bulk of stinking, pestlent flesh blocking the entire way.

The guide screeches something in a speech foul and irritating. The flesh draws aside, without head, limb or other identifiable feature. It is as if a roll of putrid fat from an enormous creature were used to block and unblock a mousehole. "My God," chokes Asmundson. "I am glad I brought sword, cup, dish, spear and stone with me on this expedition, and set my alchemical blessings about me."

After passing this strange guardian, the group enters another large cavern, this one even more hot and humid than the last. Flames and, perhaps, lava fill a pool in the center, and smoke and fumes waft about the upper reaches. Arthur sneezes and stands, panting, his shoulder against Landon's thigh. Landon and Roland, for their part, are sweating profusely, and become aware of how thirsty they are by this time.

Across the cavern is set a doorway of some sort, man-height but not man-shaped - rather, it is a smooth arch, with two doors set into it, a handle on each one. Before the door stands a creature of obsidian, black as the Pit, reflecting slightly, like a humanoid formed of sable tar. Upon approach, it spreads its arms as if to bar the way.

"Dra carthra parkrathragh Canthus-ar crathraugh grachtal ga!" says their guide, or something like that, in an imperative voice. The guard-thing steps aside, throwing open the rightmost door, revealing a white corridor beyond.

"Thus far am I to take you. Further I cannot go. If you value your lives, do not anger my master." The twitch of his mouth indicates something of amusement in his thoughts, but he turns and launches himself away before any but the briefest of replies is possible.

The corridor looms, and they cannot tell whether they are walking into fridge or furnace.

[Shutter]

As they descend Roland wonders briefly if Landon knew that this was what they were getting into. Then again, what does one expect when going to meet a Chaos Lord? These people, demons, things....What are they like? Where do they register on the continuum of sentience?...What a place... Before too long though the sights, and moreover the sounds drive philophising from his mind as he quietly removes himself from anything but the tactical. He steps lightly, keeping an eye and an ear open for sudden movements or impending threats. So many...all I could do is delay them, and then, only for a moment. The wall of flesh leaves him speechless. So very far from home...

When their guide departs he wipes sweat from his brow and nods to Landon that he is ready and willing to go on. Words seem inadequate at this point.

[TreyKincaide]

Landon dispassionately views the Hell of their descent without batting an eye. Sorcerous undertakings have a way of being unpleasant ,and he'd been the best prepared for what they had seen. He at least had been to the Courts once before even if sequestered for his own safety away from those eager to take out their frustrations on a foreigner unprepared for the games the Lords of Chaos play. The ball of flesh cracked that cold exterior and the sorceror felt visibly ill.

Landon mimics Roland's motion and wipes the sweat from himself briefly considering spelling his discomfort away, but dismisses the urge feeling that a raised Pattern might invite retribution from the natives.

I've never been more pleased that I'm not the King of this Pit. Far better Merlin than I. I do not belong here and never will.

The young Amberite's eyes focused on the white corridor, "Let us be done with this." Landon leads the way with Arthur by his side past the obsidian guard stepping through large the entry way and into the corridor beyond.

[Wired*Nun]

Entering the corridor is an incredible relief, as the temperature drops to a much more tolerable, ordinary level. The door closes behind the small group, and they are facing a corridor of white marble, cool as a mausoleum...in fact, that's a what it seems like...

At then end of the short corridor is a door of polished ebony, with fanciful and oddly out-of-place figures and scenes of winemaking, from press to glass. As they approach the door, it opens away from them, to reveal a pleasant room sumptuously furnished in crimson and green. Gambling tables, a bar, a fireplace, leather chairs tacked with brass, a six-foot-tall humidor, all recall a style of genteel luxury, reminding Landon of nothing so much as his last city of residence.

The butler steps back and out of the way, announcing in loud, cultured English, "Lord Landon of Amber, Lord Roland of Amber, The Right Honorable John Asmundson of Landon!"

The scene is so incongruous, so cliche`, that Landon has difficulty not laughing out loud. He manages to choke it down, though as the enter the room and regard, presumably, their host.

He appears to be an ordinary man, or perhaps, an extraordinary man. Overtopping the two Amberites by several inches, he is nevertheless perfectly proportioned, golden-haired, appearing of that indeterminate age between twenty-five and forty. Dressed in a smoking jacket, carrying a lit stogie, and brandy snifter in his left hand, he holds out his right to Landon first, then Roland, Admundson and, gravely, to Arthur in turn. "How do you do," he says in a dulcet baritone. "Sorry about the trip in, must keep up appearances and all that, you know. Cigar? Brandy? Have a seat? My name's Canthus, and thank you for responding to my invitation."

The butler serves Asmundson both, as well as anyone else that wishes to indulge, and they are soon seated in comfortable chairs, snifters on the felt of a poker table. Canthus lounges back in his seat and eyes each in turn, seeming like nothing more than a big, competent man of the world.

"I'm sure you're just itching to know why I invited you. I'm a come-to-the-point kind of guy, unlike most of you men." The way he says that makes it clear that, despite his appearance, he is not one himself.

"I want you to help right a great wrong. I want your help in freeing my people from the tyrrany of the Lords of Chaos. I want to bring demonfolk back to their rightful place. I want allies in the House of Amber - and I have much to offer."

[TreyKincaide]

Landon accepts both drink and cigar as he takes a seat. His eyes narrow slightly as his earlier theory proves itself correct. I was never in true danger until now. The attack on my life was probably staged for my benefit to lure me here. This being and other's like it are responsible for this tangled web--my torture, the Maze, all of it.

Landon's voice ever respectful, "I'm sure you have a great deal to offer indeed. Since my gracious host has expressed a fondness for being direct, I must ask why you believe me a sympathetic candidate as what you ask entails undermining the rule of a friend. House Barimen, for the most part, have long been exiles far removed from Courtly intriques, at least until recently it seems.

"I must also wonder what rightful place demonfolk aspire towards. While it's been said that the Great Old Ones usually abstain from the affairs of others, with this confirmation of my suspiciouns I can't help but see in hindsight strong hands guiding recent events. Would you rule over men as the Lords of Chaos inflicted their tyranny upon you?" Landon speaks surely taking care not to offend his host.

[Shutter]

Roland accepts a glass of brandy with a nod of thanks and settles into an armchair. His sword belt he unbuckles and leans against his leg, still a quick draw, but nothing as hostile as a blade across his lap. So this is a demon lord? Or one available facade for a demon lord? What's the truth of the matter?...Maybe through the pattern it would be more clear. But the consequences of using that in this place might be...problematic... Once more Roland watches and listens.

[Wired*Nun]

"The rule of a friend? I was of the impression that you have no friends, Landon. Perhaps you mean an ally? Of course...but of whom would you be speaking? Merlin? Rinaldo? I assure you I intend to undermine no one's rule, except inasmuch as it is based upon the labors of my people. If freeing them undermines anyone's rule, one must ask, is that rule legitimate in the first place? But rest assured if we can come to some arrangement, we will do so with mutual interests and understandings."

Canthus settles in to his chair, as if anticipating a long conversation. "I have no intention of ruling over men in general, though even now I rule over some men in particular. That is - or was, at least, at some time - their choice. The Chaos Lords - including your branch, though you fancy yourself now lords of Order - took advantage of the strife and disunity of our folk, and have divided and enslaved ever since. I have been rising through the ranks for millenia - our folk grow only slowly into their greatest powers. Call me an upstart, if you like, despite my age. I am now finally in a position to make some changes, to stop fighting an endless rearguard action against their encroachment. They consider that if they are able to do a thing, they have the right to do it. I disagree. The rebellion of Dworkin fractured the Courts, and the universe. Other forces are moving now which will further weaken their hold. I want to ensure that we don't just end up with a situation where only the names have changed. I am willing to - pardon the irony - deal with the devil to do it."

[TreyKincaide]

Landon bristles slightly but tries to remain outwardly stoic at their host's manner. It didn't take much to earn Landon's ire, and Canthus was a goodly way there.

Is this a test, or are Amber and the Courts loosing their importance? First the Maze. What next? How does this reflect upon the Balance? If every upstart gains power over shadow, everything will go to shit, but Canthus's words do make some sense. Just because we can do a thing, does it mean we should? How many shadow lives have I destroyed? I may be a hypocrite, but the torture going on outside for "appearances sake" makes Canthus doubly so. Perhaps, if these other forces may be curtailed the status quo will hold?

Landon forces out a polite laugh, "I, and the rest of my family, have been called much worse, but I still wonder why you believe me to be the devil that'll suit your purposes? You're obviously more in the loop if you know something about a faction that threatens followers of the Logrus. I must also ask what do you intend to do with your freedom once earned? Will you and your brethren settle down in your own corner of shadow or will you storm the gates of yon Thelbane and claim it for your own?"

[Shutter]

While the talk continues Roland tries to study Canthus surreptitiously. Can a shapeshifting demon lord be expected to have many tells? No idea, might as well find out. With luck he'll have more than enough of an impression to do a good Sketch later on.

[Wired*Nun]

"Well, in all my research, Landon, which I admit is somewhat dated, you seemed the perfect mercenary - and I say that with the deepest respect. One acquaintance said you'd sell your own mother out, but I dismissed that as hyperbole. I do the like the beard, by the way, it adds a nice rakish touch. Sorry if all that offends you."

"In answer to your question, I'm not looking to overthrow the Courts, any more than Dworkin wanted to do so. I understand the cosmic balance, and the Chaos Lords have been admittedly effective in keeping things together. My people were arrogant and foolish so long ago, and disunited. They didn't recognise the threat, they paid the price with millenia of servitude. As I said, I want to free them. And yes, perhaps I will rule over them. So what? I don't dispute Merlin's or Random's perogatives. But I am sick of demonfolk being summoned, demonfolk being bound, demonfolk being geased, demonfolk being used and abused by others. If there is any of that going on, it should be kept among our own kind...for that matter, it's the natural order of things for the strong to dominate the weak - as individuals. It's not the natural order of things for one group to lock themselves into dominance over another group, limiting their self-determining freedom and their opportunity to advance."

Roland studies Canthus carefully, eventually becoming confident that he can create a Trump sketch later if need be.

[Shutter]

Oh, now this is a bad time to have dated intelligence Demon... Confident in his ability to draw this demon lord Roland allows his eyes to wander over the rest of the room. More likely than not it's all a facade, not a real office. But what do I know? My experience with demon lords is remarkably limited....Ah, wonderful....he's on to the part where the would be tyrant argues about how it is in the natural order that he be a tyrant. Fantastic.

Roland's mind wanders back to a warlord who came to Regan once looking to control, to dominate. He was a large man, smart, deadly, prideful and he road at the head of a large host. Roland was young enough during their parlay to call him on his nonsense, his pretensions to logic. He wasn't as openminded a man as he claimed. When the dust settled and the blood dried that host had been headless.

Oh, I wish I could sigh and roll my eyes at this one too. But I am out of my depths here, even if it is the same old show and dance on a much...infinitely...larger stage.

[TreyKincaide]

Landon swirls his brandy and puffs on his cigar as he listens to the demon's spiel. He bit back several retorts regarding the "natural order" of things. History was littered with beings like Canthus--those that promised despotism masked with freedom. Landon pauses as considers how to play his next move. The proverbial angel on his shoulder suggests that Canthus must be stopped. The proverbial devil on this other whispers on about how fine an idea it would be to have sole access to demonkind. Both agree that playing along is the best idea for now.

Landon blinks and laughs, "No, that's quite alright. Your acquaintance is quite correct. Should I ever meet the individual, I shall have to extend my thanks for such a glowing recommendation. I would sell my mother out without blinking an eye for I am her son after all, but we can save the 'nature-nuture' debate for another time." Landon chuckles, "Oh, and thanks for the compliment," he strokes his beard. "I had thought it suited me well. I'm glad others agree."

"Your arguements seem sound thus far, and I'm sure many will rally to your banner. However, ideology takes a back seat to proper compensation in the eyes of a mercenary devil like myself," he grins continuing the running analogy "so I ask as to my part in this grand revolution and how it will be worth my while."

[Wired*Nun]

"This is the part where I'm supposed to offer you wealth beyond dreaming, the love of your heart's desire, yada yada yada. I'm not going to waste our time. I had been told that you'd changed - that you'd wised up a little bit. A friend of mine told me you'd learned something of the quality of unjust suffering, and might have some desire to set it right. Either he was wrong, or you're trying to play along with the big bad demon lord. The problem is, one can never tell, with a skilled liar. So let's see if I can't cut the knot with a real offer." His smile reaches only to the edges of his mouth, eyes glittering with crimson sparkles, as he leans forward, elbows on his knees.

"How's about I get your father's soul out of the Void?"

[TreyKincaide]

Landon eyed his host, "That's always the bitch of it isn't it? Now, I know a being such as yourself would never make false claims, but I should point out convincing me that my father's soul is genuine will be just as difficult as the task itself. You'd be surprised how many shades I've ran into Master of Form and Shape. That is to say that the man purportedly willing to sell out his own mother--even one who'd 'wised up'--would be willing to bargain out of some misplaced familial loyalty to a man he'd never met."

"Respectfully, if you have the power to draw back souls from the hereafter, something that remains a mystery to the greatest scholars of Chaos and Order, then you have a potential inexhaustible army at your fingertips and I fail to see why you require my services."

[Shutter]

Roland's eye's widen a bit at Canthis's offer. Why in the hell would Eric's soul be in the Void? And how would he get it back?.... Before his mind goes wandering off into the philosophical implications of this statement Roland snaps it back into focus. Listen, observe, learn. Philosophize later...

[Wired*Nun]

"Maybe a mystery to your scholars - though I suspect Dworkin or Suhuy would gainsay you. Life and afterlife are all one to us demons - some of us transition to and from corporeality regularly. I believe you've already encountered more than one of us masquerading in human form. In fact, we view it as a great limitation of your kind, unfortunately compensated by other gifts of the Eternal. All right, if not that, then how about something a little more tasty. How about - revenge? How would you like to pay back those who have brutally used you?"

[Shutter]

He ignores the question of what he wants of Landon and immediately switches baits...I'm not impressed...

[TreyKincaide]

Landon sets his drink down somewhat goaded by the demon's words but unwilling to give the upstart, old that he may be, the satisfaction of allowing it to show, "Those who've used me will receive what they deserve. It is only a matter of time. Vengenance is like liquor: the anticipation is what drives us forward, the intial taste is to be savored, and when the glass is empty we are left with duller wits and an upset stomach to show for it. Being handed the prize only turns the drink sour sooner.

"I'm afraid you're going to have do better than that for whatever service you wish me to perform lest I start to think my journey here was in vain save enjoying your excellent hospitality."

I would have thought an Ancient One would have a better position to bargain from.

[Wired*Nun]

"Hmmm...as you can see, I'm not really used to dealing with you people. I was warned that Orderites have their own odd notions of morality. With my own folk, I just threaten and dominate, or reward with our own sorts of incentives or destroy them...I wanted to approach from a different direction, rather than just a rude exchange of services of value. In that, at least, you are as you were described."

"How about I give you some idea of what I want, and you tell me what you want? Will that work for you? Or shall I bring in testimonials to my integrity? We demons do have a reputation for keeping our bargains, after all, unlike most of humankind. Or perhaps you are just bargaining vigorously. No matter."

"As I more or less said at the start, I want to free my people, everywhere, from institutional domination by others. I want all of my people to have an opportunity to earn, buy or gain their freedom, and I want justification for individual cases of servitude. I have some ideas about an independent tribunal of sorts, perhaps composed of a mix of personages largely disinterested in such things - members of your own House, for example. Your King has a reputation for fairness and incisiveness, after all. And, since most of my people are enslaved by those of the Courts, very few of them would be eligible. So, basically, I want you to be my devil's advocate before your ruler, and bring this proposal to him. But more than that, I need someone to be passionate about it - someone who has suffered unjust imprisonment and torture at the hands of those who enslave us. I want you to believe in this cause. So you tell me...what will it take?"

[TreyKincaide]

Landon blinks with surprise having expected, perhaps, anything else. Unicorn help me, they want to unionize!

Landon pauses as he collects his thoughts and strokes his chin. They wish freedom. Who am I to say no? Were it any other request, I could walk away. The Balance is tilting to and fro and I can't for the life of me figure out how to right it.

After a lengthy silence Landon speaks the bargaining posture absent from his voice, "There is much that I could ask for: my father, the autonomy of the Pattern Ghost of Eric your servitor met, anything you could tell me about my biolocial mother, the identities of my captors, the identities of the faction undermining the Courts, and how to stop everything from sliding steadily into the Pit all vie for the top position on the list.

Landon pauses again, "Since you wish to eschew the rude exchange of services and be allies in good faith give me what thou wilt for even if I receive nothing," he sighs, "I'm inclined to take your proposition before my King."

[Wired*Nun]

Something - astonishment? - crosses -is allowed to cross?- Canthus' face for the briefest of moments - or is he unused to this form? Or is it more subtle manipulation? - , then an apparently genuine smile. "Excellent! It's a start!" He stands, and goes on, "I could possibly supply any of your requests, except perhaps that last. It just depends on how many resources I am prepared to expend - so perhaps we can talk further about what your priorities are. But first I would like to show you - all three of you gentlemen - a few things about your fellow descendants of Man."

Walking across the floor to a wardrobe, he takes out three heavy cloaks of charcoal-colored fur. He rummages around a bit longer and comes up with a kind of scarf or stole as well. "Wear these, please. They will keep you more comfortable and will protect you against...other things, while in my realm." He tosses the cloaks to the men, then gravely fastens the stole around Arthur's neck. Arthur sniffs at it suspiciously as Canthus rubs his head for a moment, then looks up at Landon. "Smells like bearskin...I think," he says.

Assuming the three men put on the cloaks, Canthus opens the door they entered by, and leads them past the black creature and across the cavern floor past the pit of lava to another opening in its side. It seems markedly cooler now - or perhaps it's the cloaks.

The corridor is straight for a few tens of meters, then turns sharply to the right. Another of the obsidian figures stands guard at the corner, and lets them pass without movement.

On the left is a gallery of wide windows or observation points, lit with warm orange glows, like pumpkins on Halloween. Stopping at the first window, they find themselves overlooking a kind of cell, a room. The floor is at least two stories below, and there is a door on the opposite wall. On a bed below lies a body, thin and shriveled, emaciated. A blanket covers it below the waist, but it is still recognizably female. There is a bracelet of some red stone on the demoness' upper arm.

"This is Be'ktaa. She has been a spirit-slave for over six centuries. In ancient times she would have been shunned, her body left to waste away. Later, when the great demonitarian Maghanus came to power, he spread a more enlightened philosophy, to care for those enslaved through no fault of their own."

"So now, there are thousands of such, their bodies lying in rooms and halls, cared for by the lesser of our kind as they work out self-imposed servitudes. Of course, most of those enslaved are of lesser status, and so lie in common rooms of an hundred or more...but Be'ktaa is...special to me." Canthus' face is a study in endured sadness.

Turning to the four, he continues earnestly. "Since matter is malleable, currencies for our kind tend to take the form of service, or power, or objects of power, or information. Selling one's service is an honorable thing, which makes theft of service by those of Chaos even more despicable."

Moving down past several windows, they see the same scene below in each one - one or two demons, concentration-camp thin, lying on beds, with large red bracelets on their upper arms. Then, they come to one where the scene is different.

Inside this room, a ghostly plasm drifts, endlessly circling the walls below, as if searching for a way out. "This is Dakul. His situation is the opposite of what you just saw - corporeal slavery. The body has been stolen, in this case to house the consciousness of one who refused to go into the Void, and had the art to transfer his own spirit to another. Dakul's spirit is housed here, so that it need not wander forever searching for its body. We hope that it can one day be reunited with its stolen property."

Turning to them, leaning back on the windowsill, hands grasping the top, he asks, "What do you think so far?"

[TreyKincaide]

Landon's eyes trail the ghostly plasm of Dakul. Maintaining his gaze he responds, "I'm a practioner of the Arts and at least understand the theory of what you've shown me thus far although my studies lean towards banishment and protection as far as your kind goes. I'm a bit surprised for I had thought spirit, matter, and energy to be one for your folk. I guess it goes to show that sorcerors are merely performing and passing on the incantations and ancient forms without fully understanding what they entail, but then the Art has always been a dangerous one," he shrugs and looks to Canthus before he allows himself to begin tangenting.

"It does reinforce the enormity of your struggle. For to truly obtain your freedom you must either fundamentally change Sorcery to deny all the ability to enslave you or create a "policing force" to patrol and make examples of those that do."

"Tell me Canthus. You are Ancient by my standards and mature by yours. In your long existence have you ever been bound in servitude yourself?"

[Wired*Nun]

"Interchangeable, in some ways, but not one, not like for you who play with the substance of reality. There is a reason the Lords of Chaos hold sway. They have access to the Logrus, thereby to methods of manipulation of reality that render such distinctions fundamentally meaninless. I understand you of Order have a comparable Power. We are not so fortunate. Our Way is greater than that of Sorcery, lesser than that of Logrus, and older than either. In fact, what you call shapechanging taps into the older Way, as do certain other powers that various creatures in the Black Zone use." He pushes off the windowsill and begins to pace to and fro.

"However, we are not here to debate the Arts. I do not want to remake the universe, nor change the Arts. They are merely tools. Without geases and compellings, how would we ensure the honesty of our servants? How could one of us sell his services without guarantees? And many of these things are linked with other things, so to affect the one would affect the other. No, my I am no Dworkin. I merely want to gain the greatest benefit for my people. I am not so much a fool to think I can right all wrongs - but to right none of them sticks in my craw. So, this is what I have chosen to attempt. If the Chaosites are compelled to agree, and those of Order agree, and we of course would agree, then those of the Circle and Zone would fall into line. Then, eventually, the independents scattered around would also be influenced, or at least discouraged. But the most important victory would be in dealing with the Courts, for they are the most egregious of violators."

"Tell me Canthus. You are Ancient by my standards and mature by yours. In your long existence have you ever been bound in servitude yourself?"

At this, he stops his pacing, turned half away. Looking toward the ceiling for long seconds as if searching for some concept there, he eventually replies. "Yes, I was. More than once. But only once that was not freely entered into, and that was enough. I was taken whole, to serve in one of the great Houses of Chaos."

[TreyKincaide]

Landon studies the Demon Lord quietly wondering if Canthus suffers from any current compulsions. Not wishing to force his host to dwell on further unpleasantness, "Was there anything else you wished show us?"

[Wired*Nun]

Turning to Landon with evident surprise, he says with some passion, "What, that's all?" He seems to bite back on some further comment or outburst, gritting his teeth. "Yes, I will show you something else. I will show you hell." Turning to take him none-too-gently by the sleeve, he drags Landon a few steps down the corridor. Unless Landon's resistance is truly violent, he will succeed, and if he does not, it would be the clothing that yielded to these two strengths.

Gesturing to another window, he says, "Look! And listen." At a gesture, the relative silence drops and there comes a strangled whimpering from the cell below. Looking over the edge, the men see a pitiable creature, stunted, four-armed, chained to a surprisingly soft bed with gauntlets of padded leather. It twists and turns, as if trying to get away from something. Its eyes are open, but unseeing, staring at something only it can perceive. Its tongue lolls, and spittle is drying upon its snout. Impassive, an attendant stands, out of range of its struggles, holding a bottle in its hand.

Pointing, as if to force the men to look, he goes on in a raised voice, "This is the final indignity. This is Camelitur. He is bound in a state of eternal agony, and he is not the only one, but only the greatest so to suffer. What he experiences, I cannot imagine. All my arts and those of my servants have not been able to free him. He is soul-enslaved to a great Lord of Chaos, not to serve, not to work, not even to be posessed, but merely to suffer. He has been here for more than eleven centuries, by your reckoning. He writhes in agony, lost in madness, merely to serve the whim of one of THEM. He offended a Chaos Lord, and now his spirit suffers an eternal damnation more real than any myth of Hades or Sheol. Whatever his offense, by any sane judgment he has paid for his lapse. I have petitioned for his release. I have offered bribes, reasonable service, information, powers, anything the tormenter desires. This one has refused all my offers, and their King will not impose his will upon his vassal. So I ask you, gentlemen, who is the devil here?"

[TreyKincaide]

Landon wrenches his arm away once they reach their destination, "Canthus, I was changing the subject away from what I believed to be a matter of some personal distress of one's own incarceration out of politeness for you, my Host, rather than belittling the plight of your people, but, as honorable as your cause may be, if you lay hand on me again, our relations are ended. Not all men are the same; I'm not the devil unless I have to be."

Landon looks at the tormented demon with sympathy as he straightens his sleeves, "May I try to help? What may not be undone," he rest his hand upon his blade, "may be cut away. I would have your permission to look upon Camelitur with my own Arts for I would not summon Order to this place without your leave."

[Wired*Nun]

...if you lay hand on me again, our relations are ended. Not all men are the same;

"My apologies. We are a passionate people, and I am unused to dealing with...peers."

Landon looks at the tormented demon with sympathy as he straightens his sleeves, "May I try to help? What may not be undone," he rest his hand upon his blade, "may be cut away. I would have your permission to look upon Camelitur with my own Arts for I would not summon Order to this place without your leave."

A long look, enigmatic. "You would help him." A statement, not a question. "It is yours to attempt. Neither Order nor Chaos holds sway in this place. What there is, bends to my will, and mine alone. I give you leave to try; I care little for the consequences. If you succeed, may it be the first step on our road together. If you fail...I will not blame you in any way." So saying, he backs up, the way they came in, to a distance of some fifty feet or more, and takes a pose of passive observance.

[TreyKincaide]

"Very well," Landon walks towards the entrance of the room and summons up visions of the Pattern before him. His sight winds through the glowing representation of perfect order past the magical pockets representing his racked spells bound in stasis until called upon coming to rest on the unfortunate demon strapped to the bed. He tries to study the metaphysical chains binding the maddened creature with little hope of being able to unweave them. Instead he looks for a way to either reinforce the creature using the ambient energy of this place or a place in the spell to cut with his Pattern blade.

[Wired*Nun]

His examination easily reveals what Canthus must already know - the creature's demon-soul is stretched across the room and departs this Plane or Shadow in short order. It in anchored in the body, but another part of it must be anchored elsewhere, and it is from there that the torture springs.

Cutting the soul would probably kill him, or perhaps leave a body here with a stunted soul, the rest in agony at the other end. Landon's knowledge of these things is rudimentary, as expertises go. Applying the Pattern to the body would have unknown effects, though the energies of Order are known to dispel or disrupt many demonic forms in a way that energies of Chaos do not. It might simply kill him.

Exorcising the soul from this body would probably simply leave the poor thing in a worse state than before - soul trapped in agony at the other end, body helpless without a soul. The obvious solution is to free the soul from the other end...and therein lies the rub, methinks...

Reinforcing the strength of the body would do nothing, probably. Reinforcing the strength of the soul, even temporarily...could that allow it to free itself? It is possible, though unlikely. And what form of energy to provide? Sorcery cannot boost the soul or Psyche; rather, Psyche energises sorcery. The Pattern can fortify Psyche, in a way...but normally only to stiffen defense, maintaining Order against attacking Chaos.

And the energy of this place...Landon doesn't even know quite what that is, or how to manipulate it.

[TreyKincaide]

Landon stands there thinking unwilling to inflict more agony on the poor demon yet unwilling to throw in the towel. This place. I thought it was Shadow, but it's not. I have heard the demons are creatures of the Abyss. Perhaps this the Abyss given basic form? Perhaps that and the origins of the Logrus beg future study.

Left with little recourse Landon considers two options left to him. He ponders tracing the soul to the source to cut it there but discounts it. Any being over 11 centuries old would certainly have protections and wards in place for intruders and Landon, altruistic though he may be, was too selfish to santer into the belly of the beast. He instead changes his focus to his last line of thinking. He studies the stretched soul itself wondering if it could somehow conduct energy to the source.

Unable to free the demon himself he decides that justice is his only plan. The soul was a link for sympathetic magic, and certainly there would be wards in place to prevent such a thing from happening, but Landon doubts that they would take into account a Pattern user lending a hand. He studies the feasibility of creating some sort of feedback loop so that the Logrus Master on the other end would suffer the same torture he inflicted. Landon reasoned that at the least justice would be obtained one way or another. The sorceror would either sever the link to stop the pain or go mad and someone else would be forced to step in on his or her behalf.

[Shutter]

When permission is granted Roland brings up his own pattern lens to take a look around. The cerebral act keeps his mind briefly off the horror he has just been shown. The indignity...the selfish cruelty...this is wrong...

He feels his stomach sink as his rage builds. Cruelty has never sat well with him or his sworn brothers back home.

[Wired*Nun]

[need to know exactly what Landon is trying there, or at least, what he is using - sorcery, Pattern? Please describe in the best detail you can...]

[TreyKincaide]

[Sorry if it wasn't clear. This is a case of Sorcery/Pattern theory and application outstripping the player. I'll see if I can refine that down a bit. Feel free to interrupt at any time...]

Landon studies the tortured soul and, to his dismay, finds himself unable to differentiate between 'soulstuff' to determine exactly what is causing the demon's pain. He lets out a disgruntled sigh, "This is going to be awfully boring to our home viewers. Smoke if you got 'em. If you can speed time up in this room, Canthus, you and the others won't be forced to wait overly long."

Landon scratches his chin as he changes to another conceptual model likening the soul to one long power cable. He dissects the problem in the stepwise approach proscribed by his spell engineering mentor. He decides his best bet is to snake upstream a signal destined for the source using the soul as a two way conductor.

Landon's brow furrows as he ponders how to ensure that his Pattern manipulation reaches it's intended destination without disrupting the carrier wave and by what means of empowerment to sustain it. His eyes change focus coming to rest on his racked defensive spell. He takes a moment to analyze his own handiwork. Long used to performing the incantation by rote, he studies it for insight into fueling works of Pattern by works of Sorcery. He smiles satisfied that it'll suit his needs as is.

Satisfied that he grasps the major variables of the Problem, Landon takes a seat. Maybe looking at Sorcery like a computer program as Merlin suggested is beneficial. Less Art than Science. Landon looks to his Summoned Pattern and realizes that he's going to need a bit of metaphysical working room. He focuses his will and watches as 3 of his Wracked Spells are sublimated into the Pattern unused and wasted. He shrugs annoyed at the time spent without need, but returns to the task at hand.

Without particular hurry, Landon begins piecing together his first microspell aiming to create a magic that encompasses another preventing interaction masking the surface like rubber tubing around a copper wire and propels it through the sympathetic link sustained by the stretched soul. He racks his creation in one of the recently emptied spaces and continues on.

Next, Landon begins crafting a sorcery to alow him to remotely view or scry on the progress of a spell of his creation allowing him to dispell it at a distance at a place or time of his choosing. The spell joins the previous one in his personal extension of the Pattern.

Lastly,he begins designing his final spell. To metaphysical onlookers, the line between Landon's tongue and his Summoned Pattern begins to blur. Unlike the previous two, the last spell is fairly simple providing a short hand way of activating the two microspells and one of his racked defensive spells in quick succession so he can send a Pattern bomb down the stream and detonate it at time of his choosing.

Landon takes one last look over his handiwork before rubbing his eyes. He signals his completion to Canthus and the others and heads out of the room needing to take a break, "Well, she's prepped and ready to go, but if anyone wants to question what I've done or what I'm planning, I'm open to criticsm. We'll only have one shot at this. Either way, I need a bit of a rest before I make the attempt."

Should anyone ask, Landon happily explains his plan.

[Wired*Nun]

[you trying to be a smartass? Don't answer that...lol...]

[Wired*Nun]

[Still struggling with this one, for various reasons...don't give up...]

[Wired*Nun]

Canthus shruggs. "Some things are best done as they are done, without avoiding the trivial suffering." He then stands back to let Landon work on his spells, nodding from time to time as he watches him work, then rest. Admundson seems to be watching him closely as well, his lips moving from time to time in either incantation or imitiation.

When the thing is finally ready to attempt, Canthus gives the nod, and Landon sets his spells in motion.

To those with mystical perceptions the Pattern-charge enters Camelitur's body, then disappears onward down the soul-link.

The first thing that happens is that Cameliture cries out in even greater agony, if that is possible. His whole body jerks upward, straining against the straps that hold him, then slamming down onto the bed. This passes, and for a moment, the creature's body seems at peace, calm, without pain...but only for a moment. Only seconds later, it begins again. There seems no further effect.

"It was a valiant attempt, old man," says Asmundson. "I couldn't do better myself, unless perhaps I could bring the pitiable fellow back to the Maze for Nightmare to examine. I wonder if Canthus would go for that?"

"He might," replies Canthus, who has stepped up quietly behind Asmundson. "If this Maze or this Nightmare of which you speak can free him...then so can the others be also freed. But I perceive you, sir, I do not know where your loyalties lie - to Amber or Chaos? Or something else?"

Admundson draws himself up to his full height and looks down his nose a bit. "My loyalties are to God, my family, my friends, my patron being, to the Holy Cross and Rose...in short, they are my own. I will try to help you for humanity's sake. If what you really mean is, do I have entanglements with the perpetrators of this foul crime, then no, I have none such."

"Very well. I can see you are telling me truth." Canthus looks back and forth among the three men. "Let us retire to a more comfortable quarter to discuss particulars."

Heading back through the chambers, they soon arrive back in the study-like room where they spoke before. It is a welcome relief from the heat, cloaks or no cloaks.

"I suppose now we should discuss the way forward, if any. You," nodding at Asmundson, "offer to try to help Camelitur in your own way, but must take him to your own place of powers. You," nodding at Landon, "might also do the same. And you, sir," nodding at Roland, "seem to have talents that lie elsewhere, as your hand makes love from time to time to the hilt of your blade." He smiles.

"But my concern isn't really a question of the Arts or Powers. I have exhausted all reasonable alternatives. Dozens of powerful sorcerers have tried some variation of what you did, Landon...even some of Amber. But none have agreed to put my petition before the King, much less argue my case with passion...and now the King is new, these few years, and perhaps will listen. So gentlemen...will you do it?"

[Wired*Nun]

Roland receives a Trump call from Heldrik.

[Shutter]

But I know what the king will say. "What does he expect me to do?" Indeed...what? How can Amber...Heldrik? Oh hells, what timing...

Roland accepts Heldrik's Trump missive, he mutters, nearly innaudible if their minds weren't connected, "Urgent?"

[Thanos]

Heldrik can almost feel the annoyance, but says kindly and in good humor.
"No cousin, just a check up I will call later."

Heldrik pulls back from the call unless Roland says something else.

[Shutter]

Roland replies with a micro nod and almost immediately shift his attention away to something else....

Focused again on the room and situation before him he watches the demon lord. Hand makes love to the hilt of my blade....good line. The likable ones are sometimes the most worrisome of folks, and don't go forgetting it Roland...

[TreyKincaide]

Landon tries to cover his disappointment. As he's lead away he wonders who exactly is on the other end that soul before trying to figure out who exactly from Amber Canthus had as guests before.

Landon looks at the demon, "I said I would. I will not speak for the other two for I would not put Asmundson in a position of trying to convince a foreign King that is inherently distrustful of all things new, including the Maze. They are both here as a favor to me. "

[Shutter]

"I will gladly present your case Canthus, as well as I can. Though I fear he will simply ask what he is expected to do about it. To that I have no answer...These politics of the larger world are not my realm of expertise." Tempted to make him a Sketch of me should he need it...but they have their own people with that ability, and the fewer such items floating around in the Chaoslands the better.

[Wired*Nun]

"An excellent question, Roland. I would like nothing less than Amber's official and formal support for the freeing of all nonvoluntarily bound demons - for that matter, any other beings! It would be an emancipation proclamation, an end to slavery for sentient beings of all sorts! Not employment, not servitude, but all slavery! That would be a start - if King Random could negotiate with Chaos for this principle, on behalf of all those bound against their will across the cosmos. If Amber and Chaos could agree to it, then they could gradually enforce it - and once it was enforceable, those greatest of practitioners from both Courts could work together to break the bonds of all those remaining. It could bring a new day for the rights of all intelligences!"

"You see, Merlin is a young King, who holds this throne by right of expertise, bloodlines on both sides, and with the support of many in Chaos, including his construct - but is rule is actually less absolute than Random's who appears more the administrator. Random holds more real power, because there are fewer who would - or coul - oppose him. He has only one House to deal with, and most of those - of you - will acceed to his will in anythingthat is not patently absurd, as long as he has the support of at least some of your elders. Merlin, on the other hand, must please at least the seventeen major Houses - sorry, sixteen - creating a form of representative government in all but name."

"So, if Random convinces Merlin, the totality of support could create enough of a concensus that a - a, a resolution could be made, and agreement on the immorality of this practice, and then outlaw it! That's all that I ask, that you two of the House of Amber bring this possibility forward. Perhaps you could even convince some others of your acquaintance, but I would be grateful of any movement in that direction."

"And now, as they say, comes the kicker. Some of the more radical of my people have taken the recent expulsion of House Hendrake from their familial holding as proof that we can win some kind of military conflict with Chaos. They were able to free a number of thralls in that action. At the very least, they want to replicate their success against other Houses and holdings, ignoring the problems and differences. They have tasted success, and they want more. This could escalate out of control, bringing disaster on my people, and on Chaos, which will reverberate all the way to Amber. So, I cannot wait any longer. If I do...I may have a civil war of my own to contend with. Before I do that, I would unite behind the freedom fighters. I must ride the tiger, or be devoured."

[Shutter]

"Aside from my overwhelming personal curiosity, It might help if you told us more about the expulsion of Hendrake. An example of what happens when your people take up arms, the consequences, could help motivate the Crown's desire to help. Morality is a good thing, but I've learned enough cyniscism to suspect it won't be enough alone." So it might not have been the other houses who forced Hendrake out? A civil war in Chaos...too much, too huge to grasp at right now....

[Wired*Nun]

"In broad strokes, it happened thusly. Approximately two hundred years ago, a demon called Ternicus, a young radical you might call him, introduced a self-sustaining subset of demonic powers to the population of Doracus, the holdings of Hendrake. He did this because he had been held thrall to Hendrake for a time, and wished revenge."

"Those posessed of these powers became a thorn in Hendrake's side, because they were likewise held in servitude, as a society. They were the serfs to the aristocracy of Hendrake, and the occasional elevation of a native by marriage or ability did not make up for the fact that the Doracans were doomed to serfdom as a society. Hendrake held all the cards...until the Changed."

"They formed a core and a driving force for a resistance movement, posessed of powers to counter Hendrake's own. What's more, they had an unlimited potential for recruitment. Most of the population eventually threw their support behind the Changed, putting aside their concerns about the power and the changes it wrought in those recently taken. There was a significant holdout, though, composed of those loyal to Hendrake, or frightened of the 'new' powers, or morally opposed to the new state of deathlike being, or for personal reasons...the Changed, like all insurgencies, commited atrocities of their own. Power corrupts, and power bestowed suddenly on those not used to it corrupts most quickly."

"This insurgency showed Hendrake's weaknesses to the other Chaos houses, which decreased their status and caused them political problems. To counter this, Hendrake increased their militarism and looked for a military cause to unite Chaos. Of course they seized upon the opportunity presented by Brand of Amber, and for a time their troubles eased. However, when the Black Road gambit failed and the war ended badly for Chaos, they were discredited. They largely withdrew from court life, making only minimum representations and retrenching in their holdings - Doracus mainly. However, they were increasingly troubled there. The insurgency was making impressive gains, and Hendrake had their hands full just maintaining their hold on their own home."

"At this point my information is less than certain, but it seems that Hendrake and others sympathetic to them engineered a takeover of the Keep of the Four Worlds, and convinced Merlin to allow them to make it their new home. This had the advantages for all parties of increasing Hendrake power, making moot the insurgency on Doracus, while simultaneously moving the embarrasment of Hendrake farther from Chaos. It means that Chaos is firmly in control of the Fount, in fief to Hendrake, and each side owes the other quite a bit. Think of it as giving a troublesome family some prime real estate - far far away. The only ones who lost anything were the former owners, Jasra and her Amber-connected son Rinaldo, which suited Hendrake and Chaos just fine. Since Rinaldo has been a bother for Amber from time to time as well, it seems Amber is not willing to back a reconquest."

"I am not sure this story provides any support to our cause, except thusly - it was a brilliant political stroke on Merlin's part, but it can probably only be done once. If Ternicus moves on to the next House who he thinks has offended him, and the whole thing starts over again, Chaos will become suspicious, and perhaps unite to crush him. Atrocities will increase on both sides and I will lose the leverage that his existence and pressure gives me. Yes, I acknowledge that: I will use him even though - perhaps because - I disagree with his methods. And I don't think I can afford to let him be crushed so easily, which means I will have to back him, which leads us to civil war again. This is our best chance to walk the fine line between carrot and stick, and proviode a solution that in the long run benefits everyone."

[TreyKincaide]

Landon shifted in his chair and propped his head in his hand as he thought. He was happy that Roland had taken the initative to speak up affording him the opportunity to collect himself. His prior effort was a long and mentally exhausting one from which he hadn't quite recovered. Julian's son showed more political acumen than many would have given him credit for.

Landon listened quietly and tried to put himself in Random's shoes were a group of kids to show up with such a crazy proposal. He pushed thoughts of his earlier failure away and focused on the politics behind the request.

"Walking that fine line and providing a solution is one thing, getting people to like it is another." Landon held up a hand, "No, I'm not being a naysayer. Nor am I making light of your people's plight. I know Random, and he's no stranger to betting on the long shot. Of course, he usually knows something others don't, or has fixed the game to his favor."

"What I'm getting at is that I doubt Random will risk publicly throwing his weight behind you rather than your opposition unless he's sure he's going to win. The Courts are a long way from home and may appear to him as stretching his influence too thin too far removed to risk open meddling. Your opposition and the various independent dissidents in Shadow will not appreciate Amber's heavy-handedness which might well lead to an attack on Amber, herself."

"Unlike Roland, Asmundson, and myself he, a ruler, is unable to allow his morality interfere with what he believes to be in the best interests of his constituency. Admittedly, I'm sketchy on the particulars, but aside from the possibility of someone Random doesn't like rising to power when the dust clears, I don't know how bad a civil war in the Courts would look to him. Certainly, were such to take place, the optimal solution would be playing both sides against the middle to come out on top."

"Men and nations are motivated by fear. What must Random fear in order to prod him to go against the status quo? Why does Random and Amber have less reason to fear you than the questionable stability of the Crown? You mentioned a third faction that is undermining Merlin. How might that be turned to our advantage?"

[Wired*Nun]

"The civil war will spill everywhere, reaching as far as Amber itself. Just because Chaos is the main offender in this regard, don't think you won't become involved. If worse comes to worst, my people will come to free those held in thrall to your sorcerers, even to your royal family, in violence and the sword. If they fail, then Chaos will be strengthened, and we demons will be an even more subjugated and desperate people than now. If the conflict drags out, each side will seek allies and the war will reflect throught the cosmos, forcing at the very least a retrenchment and hardening of Amber's policies, eliminating many of the freedoms you have now. Envision an Amber under seige - you go back to defend her, placing yourself under your House's direct orders - or you decline, becoming at least anathema or even hunted. Chaos, pardon the pun, benefits no one except those grasping after power, or those desiring change at any price."

Canthus sighs, sitting back, holding the bridge of his nose with two fingers as if to stave a headache. "So from a moral and a practical standpoint, I believe it is possible to convince Amber to act in this matter. But I see your point - it is probably not enough to convince the King to take a risk by acting when inaction seems so much safer - but by the time the situation becomes obvious, it will probably be too late to do easily what has now become very difficult. Perhaps...perhaps I am overreaching right now. Perhaps you should not present the case - my case, I suppose - to Random, but rather to others more influential than yourselves. If they are amenable, then perhaps a concensus will convince him to give it a fair hearing. Can any of you suggest someone with influence?"

[Shutter]

I can think of a half a dozen people with influence. Now, how many people with influence do I think I can influence, that's the interesting question...And to be honest I probably can't even name people with influence, the way they play games I suspect I don't know even a small part of what goes on. Roland looks to Landon for a response to the last querry.

[Wired*Nun]

Seing Landon's thoughtful silence, Canthus goes on after a bit. "Well, it seems we all have things to think about. Shall I lodge you here? I assure you it will be comfortable. Or would you like to Trump away, and return when you have some reply to my...proposal? I do not have the type of Power to make or give Trumps...but I am sure that at least one of you can make one of me sufficient to the day, eh?"

[Shutter]

Roland hesitates a moment before replying, giving Landon the chance to speak first. Playing it cool...Probably the smart thing to do.

"If you have a library with a decent amount of Thari non-fiction I would be inclined to stay for a while. A bit of reading and research can't hurt. Otherwise I would be on my way to think and confer. I can give you a Trump of myself if you like. Should the timeflow lead me to be away for more than, say, a day? Then contact me."

Mentaly Roland is scrambling to draw up a short term to-do list. Call back Heldrik, find out how long I've been away, find out more about Canthis here, find out more about demonkind in general, prevent a civil war in chaos, get lunch...I might need to reorganize this list...

[Wired*Nun]

"My people are not a scholarly folk...though I have a few tomes and texts myself. One of our failings, I admit. But it's hard to rule as well as reign, when old grudges burn so hotly, harder still when they spurn the wisdom of their oppressors. I think I'll take that Trump to borrow, and you can perhaps make one of me when you care. You may depart when ye will, the ways are now open outward-bound." Canthus assumes an air of neutral waiting, sitting back in his leather chair.

[Shutter]

Roland pulls out his sketchbook and begins to Sketch a self portrait. Quick but competent. Should function in his realm just fine, can't be handed away to someone else. Ought to do the trick... A few pencil strokes in he looks up to Canthus, "I'll have a minor Trump ready for you in a few moments. It won't work if it leaves this place. My art doesn't have the permenance for that I'm affraid." He returns to the Sketch, aiming to do as good a job as can be done in under 20 minutes. When it is finished he tears out the page in question and hands it to Canthus, pausing a moment to see if there are any last words before he moves along.

[TreyKincaide]

Landon continues to wear his expression of guarded yet thoughtful silence only breaking after Roland finishes his Trump sketch, "I fear my prior exhertions have tired me more than previously believed. Very well. Thank you, Canthus, for your hospitality. I shall be in touch when I may suggest a solution that will prove a satisfactory answer to the posed quandry. Until then, I bid you farewell."

Landon rises to his feet and makes a parting gesture of respect to the Demon Lord.

[Wired*Nun]

Canthus bows in return, a somewhat ironical gesture with a highball glass in one hand, a cigar in the other. "You may find it an easier road to Trump away, than walk your former path again. Cooler, anyway." He shrugs. "But suit yourself."

The smoke from the cigar curls downward, in contravention to what the men would consider natural law...but why not, if cold rises in this hellish place...

[TreyKincaide]

Landon nodded, "Thank you for the suggestion. Fare thee well." Landon looked to his companions, "Shall we part ways here or shall we trump out together?"

[Wired*Nun]

Asmundson stand up, thumping his everpresent walking stick on the floor for emphasis. "I am with you, Landon, if you'll have me. Best to stick together, I say."

Arthur cocks his head as if to say, do you have to ask? Then looks over at Roland, awaiting his reply.

[Shutter]

"I'll come with you I think." Roland gathers up his things, stows his sketchbook, and moves to stand by Landon. He turns and bow to Canthus.

"Well met." Need to work on my "parting words." He indicates to Landon that he is ready to go.

[TreyKincaide]

"Alright then," he sighs, "I suppose now is as good a time as any to go back to Amber. Perhaps there we shall find an answer--likely more questions--there eh?"

I feel like a child bringing home friends to avoid a fight. I wonder why?

"Do either of you care to do the honors?"

Should both decline, Landon pulls outs a Trump of Flora and with a touch of trepidation concentrates on raising contact.

[Wired*Nun]

Asmundson shrugs and misquotes, "Lead on, MacDuff." As Roland doesn't look like he's gettihng out any Trumps, Landon finds himself reaching for Flora.

Contact comes hard and far, and only after adding in Roland's mental push do they make contact with Flora.

"Dear boys! What can I do for you two? And where are you calling from? That's an odd background from your calling-place..."

[Shutter]

Why call a person when all you need is a place? Ah well, to each their own.... It's always a bit unnerving at first to see the aunt with the sex appeal, Roland does his best not to think about it and smiles a greeting to Flora. Oh...crap....did I give her an update before I ran off?....do I owe her one now?

[Wired*Nun]

Flora gives Roland a sharp glance, almost as if she might have caught his thoughts across the link, then winks. Better to be wise than clever, her words bump gently against his mental walls.

[Shutter]

Flora likely gets the mental impression of Roland smacking his forehead with his palm. Outwardly he still waits for Landon to say whatever it is one says when calling up family for a bit of free (ha) transportation.

[TreyKincaide]

"We're rather far out, Flora, and we were hoping you'd pull us, Asmundson and Arthur included, through." Landon smiled and carried the conversation on without words.

I've behaved poorly, and I'm sorry Mother. I'm willing to talk if you're agreeable and not otherwise engaged.

[Wired*Nun]

"Of course, gentlemen, I'd be happy to."

Standing and stepping back, she brings them through into her spacious office. She waves them at chairs, opening her icebox and getting whatever they want. "Looked kind of hot where you came from..." She leaves that one hanging.

"I'm guessing you'd rather be somewhat discreet, and there's nowhere discreeter than here. Now, you called me rather than Trumping into your rooms or suchlike - that means you want to talk - and I'm the champion at that. Give."

[TreyKincaide]

Landon takes a seat and he uncaps his bottle of domestic beer. An older, spoiled Landon would have been devastated by Flora's casual greeting, but the newer version took it in stride.

"By all accounts I'm still working for the Crown and I have a rather lengthy report to make," he smiled, "Now seemed an apt time as any. However, I, we," he gestures, "have been absent from Amber for sometime and would prefer to know the lay of the land so to speak. I hoped that you would prove ammendable to such things.

"There was also a matter of a more personal note that I wish addressed."

[Wired*Nun]

"Lay of the land? Any questions whose answers are likely to stray into 'eyes only' territory? If so, I'll have to provide Mr. Asmundson with alternative entertainment, no offense intended, milord," she says with a nod to John.

"Probably safer to do so in any case. I do hope you don't mind, dear man," she says in a fair imitation of his own accent, "and I'm sure I could find you a fair and decent guide to the public areas of the Castle, hmm?" Leading him out by the simple expedient of taking his arm, she soon has him touring with a matronly chambermaid, who is thrilled to comport with a guest of the House.

"Well, now that we're alone, just family, that is, what 'lay of the land' do you refer to?"

[TreyKincaide]

"Well, for starters," Landon sipped at his beer, "I suppose it'd be good to know if those responsible for the attack upon the family have been uncovered and dealt with. From there I would imagine that any decrees made by King Random in our absence be helpful. Unless, of course, there is something specific I should be referring to?"

[Wired*Nun]

"No, the killer or killers have not been found - I believe that was given over to some of you youngers to investigate, n'est pas? Were Eric or Corwin still on the throne, I am sure it would be top priority - an offense against the crown, after all - but Random is not them. On the other hand, neither of those dear departed would have run the kingdom as more than their feudal fiefdom. Random is turning Amber into something approaching an efficient modern state, for good or for ill. Can't say that I mind, as far as it goes."

She takes a moment to light some kind of cigarrette from a box on the table, and draws a deep drag. "No new proclamations or particular shakeups in anything of note. I could bore you with all manner of minor political jibjab, but I won't. Kashfa and the new Queen Mother lie quiescent. I think Rinaldo is keeping things low-key for now, but you know those two will be cooking up something soon enough." Drag, blow.

"Nothing new that I know of about about this Maze business, though you should ask Fiona or Bleys - or your father, Roland - if you want the nitty gritty on that. Does that cover it?"

[TreyKincaide]

"Pretty much," Landon says honestly. He shifts in his chair drinking almost in time to Flora's smoking. Landon reflects momentarily on his boyhood and knows that forevermore Flora will treat him with the same coldness he experiences now.

"Now, if you would be so kind address the second matter, we shall away for no doubt your are busy and I would not keep you unduly. Do you require anything in trade?" Landon's expression is carefully neutral.

[Shutter]

Roland watches the mother son interaction with reserved puzzlement. Sad that they have to spar to talk. Unless they enjoy it I guess, but this doesn't seem fun at all.

or your father, Roland - if you want the nitty gritty on that

Dad eh? Duly noted...How long have I been away from Amber? Shouldn't have been long...less than a month certainly, less than a week most likely...

[Shutter]

It dawns on Roland that Landon and Flora might be on the verge of personal matters. He tries to make eye contact with one or the other with a slight head gesture towards the door, a "shall I leave?" motion.

[Wired*Nun]

Flora makes a shooing motion, winking at Roland as she takes a last drag and stubs out her smoke. "See you later, Roland..." she says ambiguously.

[TreyKincaide]

Landon looks at Roland, "Thanks for everything. I'll catch up with you in awhile."

[Shutter]

Roland nods a good bye to Landon, thanks his aunt, and is out the door in a few moments. phew. He wanders down a side corridor looking for a nice out of the way alcove while pulling out his Trump deck. In a few moments he has shuffled out Heldrik's Trump and focuses upon it, extending for connection.

[TreyKincaide]

Landon's eyes trail behind Roland as he exits. He kills off the beer and sets it on a tray to the side. He regards his aunt/mother from his seat, "Thanks for the beer."

"So, tell me. How shall we start?"

[Wired*Nun]

"Well, you wanted to talk to me privately - so let's talk. I'm not playing the game with you now. That's for public consumption - I wouldn't want them to think you were favored of me, after all. I'll let you know if I think you're not giving as good as you're getting." She lights another and settles back.

"So what's the topic?"

[TreyKincaide]

Landon offers a wry grin, "I can't say I've ever had that complaint. So, a story begins with an orphan and a beautiful patron who secretly are heirs to the greatest legacy in existence. It's a great tale let me tell you. Although I pretty much know how the rest of it goes, I'm missing some exposition."

[Wired*Nun]

"Coy boy. You want daddy and mommy's bio? Well, hell, indelicacies aside, it's pretty much the same old boy meets girl. Throw in ambition, potential kingship, isolation and loneliness, a dash of vulnerability, and a whole lot of delayed teenage rebellion, and you get a torrid physical affair that results in you. Frankly, I'd lay cash money that it happened more often than anyone would admit - Bleys and Fiona, Dierdre and Corwin, Delwin and Sand, all rumored to have had their flings or more. Father - Oberon, that is - was adamantly opposed. Said the Pattern had predicted disaster if we inbred. I don't see a terrible risk of that, seeing how many halfbreeds we have floating about. Plenty of depth left to the gene pool, if you ask me. I wonder if the horny old goat didn't lust after his daughters himself, and was wise enough not to want to start down that path in any shape or form."

"I think we should have maintained more contact with Chaos. Plenty of good strong blood there. But you know the lure of the forbidden..."

[TreyKincaide]

"Only too well," Landon replies thoughtfully. "Just as likely he saw from Delwin and Sand's example that loyalty towards one another was a threat to his rule." Landon's words lack conviction his mind busy replaying two conversations with two Erics and two Patterns.

'The Pattern knew you were Eric's but not Flora's.'

'Hell, it's not like I didn't sleep with her...'

Damn it. Who's lying? Or is anyone?

A light sparks in his eyes as insight gives way to understanding, "Then which of Oberon's daughters' wombs did I spring from if not yours?"

[Wired*Nun]

Flora's face freezes for the tiniest moment, too fleeting to get the full import of the look. She's much too accomplished to let anything show in ordinary circumstances - I touched a nerve there, I think.

She leans forward and says with strong feeling, "You sprang from my womb, Landon, never doubt it. I remember every day of those nine months, every god-damned morning vomiting the finest food Earth had to offer. I remember twenty-six hours of labor," her voice rises, "and an OB that I murdered with my own hands afterward when she started wondering aloud about my reactions and physiology. I remember it all, you lovely bastard," as she rises to her feet, pointing and almost shouting, "so never doubt your value to me! I carried you, I protected you, so I'm as much your mother as..."

She glamps her teeth down on her words, shoulders shaking with repressed anger, perhaps grief or sorrow. Stalking stiffly forward, under bare control, Flora reaches down to stroke his face with her hand. There are tears in the eyes that meet Landon's. If this is a performance, it's a damn good one - and Corwin didn't think she could lie very well under pressure, so...

"I love you, Landon. You are the closest thing I have to a son of my own, you're all that's left of Eric that I have. I know I haven't been as good to you as I could have, but I wanted you to be strong, to be able to stand on your own. The more partiality I show you around here, the more vulnerable we both are. It's Amber's curse, really. We can't be protective of what we can't protect." Her voice trails off in a whisper, her hand still stroking his face, his face held against her hip, her tears splashing off his upturned forehead.

[TreyKincaide]

Landon found himself wrapping his arms around Flora's waist. He holds her quietly and lets her weep as he analyzes his feelings. He finds himself somewhat taken a back by her reaction. The shift in strength of the relationship, although expected from Corwin's advice, remains quite a new to him. Soon subtle tears mirroring Flora's wet his cheeks.

Landon's voice cracks hoarsely when he finally speaks, "I love you too." Those three words sum up Landon's transition. Still holding her with one arm he rises to his feet. He snatches his hankerchief from his pocket. He dabs away Flora's running makes along with her tears, "And thanks."

"I know enough now to be dangerous. Ignorance no longer protects us. I have yours, Dad's, and Amber's enemies to contend with along with my own. I've been blind to my best interests and unthankful to those with sight for a long time, and for that I'm sorry. It took imprisonment and torture to jar me enough to pull my head out of my ass and figure shit out.

"So finish what you started, Mom, and give me the tools I need to stand on my own. Even though it's painful help me protect myself by telling me what happened. You birthed, bled, cried, and you murdered for me. It's bastardly cruel of me to ask you to do more, but I need to know what you mean when you say 'you're as much my mother as...' Please, tell me."

[Wired*Nun]

A shudder. A sob, and a sigh. "Well, you see, your father...he hated Corwin so much...he wanted everything Corwin had, or anything he ever wanted too. He was always trying to prove himself better...they were such mirror images. Both of them. Both hated each other. Both wanted their father's approval. Both wanted the throne. But it all started with both of them wanting dear. Sweet. Fucking. Dierdre."

Her eyes clear, and she wipes them with the back of her free wrist. "Aha. God, how can I still hate her? But I do. I hate Eric for him not being satisfied with someone else. Or with ME. I hate her for making a child with him she didn't want. Sometimes I hate him for forcing me to carry that child...but I don't hate the child. Never that." Her fingers now run through his hair, like he was little again, and despite her nearness, there is nothing sexual any more in their proximity. Unicorn! What a secret...a secret that even now could upset her position in the Realm...or at least prove a major embarrassment to the Crown...

[TreyKincaide]

After a lifetime of chasing, Landon finally understands why this secret above all remained hidden and how much he really means to Flora. He puts his head on her shoulder and speaks in whispers his voice sticking in his throat, "I wouldn't blame you if you did. Hate me I mean. Unicorn knows how you could stand to look at me, let alone come to love me. I guess I've gotten better than I've given, after all. My whole life. God. I can't say I'm sorry enough."

[Wired*Nun]

"Oh, my dear sweet boy, you don't need to apologise. You've been handed this shit by a bunch of people who were cynical cunning bastards long before you were conceived. It's not your fault. You are responsible for what you do, but what you are...that was established long ago. Or, at least what you were. What you will be is up to you."

"Like all parents, the best thing that could happen to me is that my child is better than I am...and the worst thing that could happen is that I fail to help him be better. We succeed or fail through our children...or we cut them off from us...sometimes literally. Does anyone wonder anymore why Benedict inspires such fear?" she asks rhetorically. Yeah...if he could execute his own son, what other lengths might he go to for the Crown, or his idea of justice, or maybe just for offense given...and what lengths might others go to protect their children, even if they are guilty of high treason...what about the pair of interlopers of which one turned out to be Elress, seemingly unpunished so far...

This sparks Landon's thinking on another issue, the whole Maze and Nightmare issue, along with Joss' death. A couple twos fall together from reports he's heard - Rinaldo on the balcony when the bullet was fired, practically handed to Amber by Raevyn's witness...Dalt impersonated at the Keep...Siodmak's schizoid changing demeanor...the Crown paralyzed when the Keep changed hands...the excision of the Maze from the Fount, presumably emasculating its power...events which one after another are leading to something, some state that someone wants to bring about.

[TreyKincaide]

Damn. This is a lot to take in. At least I know why Corwin was keen on helping me protect myself providing he knew the truth of my parentage.

So we succeed or fail through our children. Or we cut them off. Except in extreme cases it's difficult to tell which is which--Mom's behavior for public consumption being the perfect example.

But, barring personal grudges ala Corwin and Eric, there's very little that the family won't overlook if not outright forgive. So why kill a son unless he's directly a threat? Why isn't Gerard tearing Shadows apart with his bare hands by now? What if they were both protecting something or someone they deemed to be more important? Sometimes sacrifices must be made.

The Keep changed hands, but I doubt the Crown was powerless. It chose not to bring any power to bare presumably because Brand's legacy were under suspicion. Luke protests his innocence and I can't help but believe him. What if that was a ruse? What if the it wanted the excuse to allow the Keep to fall?

What is the end game? Who's behind it? Why can't we go home again?

Landon raises his head from Flora's shoulder and nods his understanding. He wipes away his own tears and manages a smile, "I'm glad I know, Mom. It only makes me think more of you. I met that man of yours on Shadow Earth. I liked him quite alot. Seemed to be a keeper."

[Wired*Nun]

"Hmm, Kirk? Yes, he's nice."

She looks sourly at Landon, who is giving her the look.

"Oh, all right, he's my one and only right now...just habit, denying anything that poses a danger to me or my friends. And yes, I think he's exceptional. But then, so am I." She makes a little moue and a mock curtsey, incidentally breaking the embrace.

"I'm afraid I identify wholeheartedly with Diogenes, and I'm going to hold on to him. In fact, I have been considering bringing him here - especially since living in Amber seems to have a rejuvenating effect on shadow dwellers. I've always wondered whether the flip side is true - do shadow dwellers age and die faster in Chaos? Is that why their servants and henchmen are most often of unusual kinds?"

[Wired*Nun]

After several minutes of trying, he finds he can't get through. His impression is that Heldrik is not taking calls, rather than there being any interference.

[TreyKincaide]

It's sad that sometimes old age and death is the only protection we feel we can extend to those we care about.

Landon straightens his jacket and ponders the seemingly innocuous question. He finds himself marveling at his mother's smooth transition back into the Game and at his own, "Well, Merlin was damn near full grown at the the end of Patternfall and Dara's supposedly what, Benedict's great great great granddaughter? That's saying a shadow dweller'd live to see expediated old age. Hell, it's hard enough for us to adapt to the environment."

The Courts deal with their conquered people through forced labor with the intentions of quelling insurrection. Only the Lords have over stepped their bounds, haven't they? Their cruelty breeds insurrection. Certainly the same could happen here....

A modern state... What am I missing?

[Wired*Nun]

A modern state is where the power is spead around in the hands of the common people - which reduces the likelyhood of tyranny. But what about where there are uncommon people - people that are markedly superior? An oligarchic monarchy like Chaos, an abolute monarchy like Amber is...was?

Is it any more? Even with the Unicorn's blessing, would they follow Random like they did Oberon? Oberon stayed one step ahead of everyone, as well as one rung up the metaphysical ladder...he kept powerful winning secrets, which are now mostly revealed - right? Dworkin, the Jewel, the Primal Pattern...now it's turned into a de facto cabinet monarchy, with the King first among equals, but the family guaranteeing his power...and he guarantees theirs.

Instead of Oberon setting his children against each other, Random seems to be trying to wean them off that backstabbing quality...are they playing the game by reflex? Or is it just the lowest common denominator? Mother has been doing this so long she hardly knows how to stop. Probably never will. Well, there are worse things in life than a mother that's powerful, driven, smart and beautiful.

[TreyKincaide]

Landon pauses his conversation wondering if Flora's silence indicates similar tangents of thought. He waits quietly for a response as he doggedly pursues his line of thinking.

If Random's the running on the progress ticket, where does that leave Merlin? Presumbly he's attempting to enact the same reforms. I can only imagine that if Mom's ken is so hard to change, then the Courts must be positively Draconian stone.

Hendrake was exiled by Merlin for their "Imperialist ideals" but thus far seem content holding the middle ground.

The revolutionary demons wish to establish a sovereign government with Amber acting as intermediary between them and the Courts kind of like Shadow Earth's UN Council.

So far I've been dealing with political states. Somehow metaphysical states overlay this whole twisted mass. The Pattern either encourages or resists Random's attempts depending on whether or not he's in with Corwin. The Maze's creator seems hellbent on proving himself in one way or another--Brand's a tough act to follow. I'd surmise that the Logrus is either scrambling for power or cutting off it's children. Corwin's Pattern claims to champion balance.

I'm still left with what state is being imposed and by whom.

[Wired*Nun]

Even now, it's all about power and control of the universe around us...at least at the top levels...while we struggle to control ourselves and each other. Analogical or allegorical?

After sighing contemplatively, Flora slips her shoes back on, and says, "It's late but I think dinner's still available. Feel like going public at all? Or we could have dinner brought. It's good to be the...whatever I am." She grins impishly. "But I'd rather get out of this office, if you don't mind. If you don't want to face the family, we could have a picnic by moonlight - scoop up any of your cousins we find?"

Is this just caprice, a desire to spend more time with him, showing him off in public, or is she angling for something?

[TreyKincaide]

Maybe it's all the same fight. We try to control lest we be controlled. In the end we still answer to our own selfish desires. Darwin wasn't far off the mark.

What would she gain by showing me off in public? I think the "trophy" son card pretty much played itself out unless she wanted to manufacture a fight for 'public consumption.' Sometimes the best thing to do is to let the fish have its way rather than fight and snap the line.

"Either is fine by me. I didn't come expecting to sneak off again without making the rounds. How do you want to play it?"