Act Three, Scene 2: Secrets, Spies, and Dreams

Striding about the battlefield, Edward overheard Flora arguing with her son Vaughn and interrupted to introduce himself. He and Flora exchanged courtly compliments (finally, an Amberite who appreciated his style) and made a date for her to show him around the Castle and City. Vaughn took advantage of the distraction and vanished.

Megan, all alone now in the Beathan sea, turned into a tuna (in the hopes of being inconspicuous) and swam towards her goal. Unfortunately, Mom's gadget seemed to be in Caer Beatha itself, home to very inhospitable and alert people.

After around eight hours of passing settlements both above and below the waves, Megan felt she was close to her target. She looked about for a victim and mugged a patrolling soldier. A blue-skinned amphibian, his name was Toby. His unit patrolled the outer boundary of Caer Beatha proper. His overall commander was named Matthan. He knew the women Megan had met as the Outer Commander and 'someone important to the Queen'. After the Queen, the most important personage was Llewella the sea-witch. Beathan society was rather Orwellian --Caer Beatha was a poor place to take leave. Beathans hated Amber and Amberites. Megan took his form and left him trussed up in a cave. (ACTUALLY I DON'T REMEMBER WHAT THE HELL SHE DID WITH HER VICTIMS)

Breann took Kethos to the infirmary. She had several minor wounds, while he had a number of bad cuts, including one severed rib. After seeing him settled, attending to her own wounds and reclaiming her pistol from Fiona, she tried once again to Trump Theseus.

"Oh, about as well as could be expected. Planning on drifting back any time soon?"

"Oh." He gave Breann a letter, black, sealed, very official and co-signed by a Magistracy rep. In it, Brigid apologized profusely for the actions taken by of Ireneon, of her faction. Ireneon had been chastised severely and cast out of the Mori faction for his unsanctioned actions near her dear cousin's land of Amber.

In other words, Brigid had turned Baton-man loose to do all the damage he could while screening herself with plausible deniability.

Breann explained just how dangerous Baton-man was. Theseus refused to believe it and goaded her into sparring with him. She beat him up thoroughly without leaving visible marks. They failed to come up with a plan for nailing Baton-man. Theseus agreed to make Breann a set of Anderite Trumps.

Ander went over the plans for the Oniru, which was 60% finished now. He was half aware of the work noises changing outside, growing more and more dissonant. "Ander!", shouted by one of the younger apprentices broke his concentration. He ran outside, smelled smoke, cursed and ran. Someone had sent a volley of fire-arrows into the Oniru just below the deck line. Suppressing fire kept the bucket-bearing workers from putting the fire out. They didn't understand that these Fire Pattern-infused ships would not burn.

Ander shouted, "Stop!" while Max, his chief Verenese assistant grabbed a bucket and ran at the ship. Max turned and intercepted an arrow with his upper thigh and went down. Ander, running forward, estimated the archers to be a small force, under twenty, keeping well hidden in a copse bordering the shipyard. Max was gushing, obviously a femoral hit. Ander grabbed a red-hot rock out of a steamer pot with his off hand, rushed to the now-unconscious Max and cauterized the wound. While fairly successful, Ander felt the man needed immediate medical attention. He noticed that his hand was barely singed.

Ander frantically Trumped Quinn, who came through rather bemusedly. He assessed the situation (man wounded by an archer, no more arrows flying, ship your workers a little freaked out by the Trumping) and teleported Max and his friend Shin-shin to the Aretian hospital he normally used for E.T.s.

Ander stalked to the archers, who were tall elf-barbarian-looking guys with good tans. Frightened, too, bowing and scraping. Communication was difficult. Only one spoke even poor Verinese and meanwhile Max' assistant was babbling in Ander's ear. The elf archers were 'Vari', once --centuries ago-- enemies of the Verinese but long at peace with them. The Vari had feared the new, huge, cannon-bearing ships were for use against them, since the Verinese weren't at war with anyone they could see. They hadn't meant to kill anyone, just burn the ships. Ander got the hidden ones to stand up --noting the Vari used bird whistles that were dead-perfect to his super-sophisticated ear.

Commander Morgan, in charge after Julian and Deirdre left, gave Edward leave to go. Edward cautiously Trumped to the Castle (the courtyard as Deirdre didn't want any more horses inside the Castle) and gave Muerte over to the stablemen. He visited the infirmary and saw Kethos, Vaughn, Julian and Elrohir being attended to. Fiona, working on Julian herself, felt that Edward was the last straw and ordered all observers out.

Edward had a leisurely bath, then joined Gerard in the kitchen for food and conversation. Once Gerard left the cold-pantry door opened and Bleys appeared with two big, clinking picnic baskets.

Edward gathered the tablecloth, two glasses and a bunch of napkins and eventually found the way up to the Castle's roof. Bleys was towards the back.

"At least I'm not the only one crazy around here." Bleys rolled a bottle of the wonderful red to Edward, who stopped it gently. "So did we win?"

"We survived and drove them off. I haven't seen the casualty figures. We ambushed them, they ambushed us. Julian was hurt."

"There was a Moonrider chick named Brigid. Benedict beat her off. Interesting. Did you actually see her?"

Megan arrived at a city with very high walls and entered... somehow. She couldn't quite remember the particulars. The air had the same light distorting and sound muffling qualities as water but was otherwise normal. There were very few people about, mostly blue-skinned, all of whom avoided looking at her.

Megan found a member of the bourgeoisie and mugged him. His name was Benjamin and most of his memories were easy to access, though vague further back than a month ago (pre-Change). She couldn't tell what kind of shop he owned. Megan mimicked his form, left him in an alley.

Megan used Benjamin's knowledge of the city to proceed inward and was blocked at every turn. No streets led towards the center past a certain point, no back doors, no windows, no nothing. The GEOMETRY was wrong. While waiting for a center-bound military patrol to pass (as Benjamin's memories said they often did) someone hailed her from a dark alley, "How are ya, Benja-Megan?"

Breann slept, woke suddenly looking for assassins, and rose. Theseus was out visiting Garvin. She tried Trumping Artanis; after a considerable wait Artanis answered.

"I suggest very little. If you have problems with her now let me know. I'll give you what information I can."

Theseus was still with Garvin so Breann flew over to the prison island on Cucullan. They brainstormed for a while about methods of trapping or tricking Baton-man and came up enpty.

Ander watched the remaining ten Vari leave cover in response to the whistle command. The archer who'd hit Max (who Ander dubbed Bad Aim) spoke bad Verenese and translated for his chief. Ander told them the ships were for a different war, found out their opinion of the Verenese ('honorable') and took them for a tour of Oberon. Ander could see that, aside from the scale of the ship, they quickly understood its design. He told them the ships were for fighting his enemy, a very bad man. Bad Aim was given over to Ander for his justice and was worried about it. Ander put him off to quiz the Vari and get some idea of how useful they would be as marines or sailors. He had brandywine brought and served.

Quinn Trumped Ander and was pulled through, which caused some excitement. Ander wanted fast judgements on how dangerous the Vari were. Quinn tried. He told the Vari (who spoke a sort of Quendi dialect) leader they might be distant relatives on his mother's side and showed them his Trump-bauble of Artanis. The leader (who radiated magic and Twilight) could see or feel the Lens and was wary of it, but very interested in Artanis. They wanted to meet her. Quinn explained that that would be difficult at present. Another Twilight flicker in the farther Vari group caused Quinn to move and put more Vari between him and it, just in case. As the source walked over Quinn calmed Ander, who had been galvanized by his sudden sidestep. Quinn offered to exchange memories with the leader, who warily accepted. They worked out some of the language differences, the Vari emphasized his wish to see Artanis and showed Quinn the image of a very similar woman with dark hair. Quinn showed how Amber's fleet had been damaged and what he knew of the Baron --his memories of the undead attack on Aramyst. The Vari recoiled, shocked to his heart at the enormity of raising undead to attack the living. Now the Vari HAD to join in this fight! No one with any sense of decency could stand by while such evil was abroad. The Vari leader told his people. All volunteered to help any way they could. Ander put them to work shipbuilding.

Quinn contemplated the fact that every other time he turned around he met new relatives.

Bleys didn't remember visiting Edward's homeworld at all. Edward was fairly sure his mother had never ventured to or from other worlds. Bleys apparently decided to check out Edward's origins and stuck his son with returning most of the picnic containers to the kitchens. Bleys Trumped out with one basket. He'd left three bottles behind which Edward carefully wrapped and stashed in his rooms. After stealthily visiting the kitchens he searched for Fiona and found her coming out of the baths.

"Certainly I understand the exigencies of the moment. May I have a bit of your time?"

"The reason I ask --not to challenge your scientific acumen-- is that I had a chance to talk to Bleys."

"It had its good parts and its bad parts. He had no recollection of the shadow I hale from. And while his memory may be impaired, he has no memory of it or of my mother."

"What, is he drunk? I can sober him up. I can do that." Fiona strode down the hall towards Bleys' rooms.

"I don't know about that. He seemed to have other things to do." Edward's mind raced and he decided, reluctantly, that honesty would serve best. "I don't believe he's in there."

Edward explained about his lunch with Dad. "Then he took out one of those cards--"

"Ah, I thought that since he had one of those Trumps in his possession, and wasn't under active guard, he had a right to."

"Well, you couldn't have stopped him anyway. Don't spread this around. I'd better tell Deirdre about this. Come with me." Fiona noted Edward's pained expression. "Yes, don't worry. I won't let her hit you too much."

Edward started to get up but Fiona touched him: a moment of dimness... deja vu... Delwin! ... and Edward came to himself again, rather unhappy.

"Well, he doesn't want to blow up Amber or kill any of us. Let's just say he's a member of the family and ought to do very well here and be safe even from the likes of Caine." Fiona and Deirdre exchanged a glance.

Deirdre told Edward that she wanted him to gather military intelligence on a family enemy they called the Baron. There was something involved that would benefit both him and them. They took him through the Great Hall to a nondescript door and down, down, down a spiral. Edward grew concerned.

Megan shifted some important internal organs around. The woman made a little song out of 'Benja-Megan' and walked around a corner. Megan followed but the woman was gone. She heard a noise, turned and saw a man, scowling at her.

"Show me you." He tapped two fingers and Megan reverted to human form. "There, that's better. What are you doing here? You're that woman, the one Gennit ran into?

"You won't be passing through any more. Have a good stay; this will be amusing." He levitated away into the fog.

Megan levitated after him and could not find him. After a moment she tried shifting blindly towards the ring, felt herself getting closer and found herself at the base of an unnaturally tall and pointy tower. A tower with no entrances.

Quinn Trumped his nephew Elrohir in to see if he could help. He knew nothing of the Vari either but made easier work of the dialect. Shortly after introducing Elrohir to the Vari chief Quinn was Trumped by Deirdre: she wanted his presence at Edward's Pattern walk and him to show Edward how to shift shadow. Quinn took a few minutes to excuse himself to Elrohir and the Vari, then joined the party at the Pattern room.

Quinn suggested to Edward that he use his wish-teleport to take himself to his room to rest. Edward had trouble believing that this would actually tire him out.

Edward walked it. He now remembered Delwin talking to him but couldn't understand what was said. He finished. Deirdre was right. He considered joining Bleys but decided he could do it again later. He went to his rooms.

Breann decided to vacate the Tir and avoid any terminal meetings with Ireneon -- A.K.A.: The Baton-man. She Trumped Lora and came through once Lora walked out to the courtyard. They discussed sorcery. Breann wanted to learn a bit of it, a couple of specific spells. Lora was pleased to help. They moved to Lora's rooms and began.

Edward awoke with a start. He couldn't remember going to sleep. He was a little wobbly and had a glass of the divine red to settle himself. He realized he was ravenous and had o idea of the time --a rare failure of his internal clock. He went to the kitchens in search of food and found that they had anticipated him. A servant led him to a small table loaded down with a minor feast. He almost protested that it was too much food for one man, however famished. It wasn't. Scudamore presented him with a note in mid-gorge, saying that Deirdre requested his attendance when he finished.

Megan circled the needle tower at the center of Caer Beatha and suddenly it became a long building with an excessively steep roof --and then she was inside, somehow. She was increasingly unhappy with getting into places without knowing how. It made quick retreats problematical, to say the least. She paused in the glittering hall to try Breann's Trump. It cooled slowly; she estimated four minutes for a usable contact and ceased trying. Her sense of the ring led her to huge double-doors that opened at her touch. The room inside was vast and should not have fit into the skinny building she thought she was in. The sky-lit roof and randomly-placed pillars looked to be living coral.

Megan found a throne at the other end with a normal chair and small table next to it, occupied by Queen Moire and Llewella, eating an assortment of seafood snacks --prawns, fried shrimp and so on.

Llewella looked up at the intruder and smiled, "Megan! Come in. Good to see you. Glad you finally made it." Moire beckoned her closer as well.

"Was your trip all right --give or take a ship? We wouldn't want to inconvenience you. You're Family."

"Yes. Thank you." Trying to avoid thoughts about the Condemned eating a hearty meal, Megan dove in.

Ander surveyed the Vari and the work they were doing, which was excellent aside from a tendency to leave without explanation. Other Vari would replace those who had left and do the work as well as the ones who had just been trained.

Mid-afternoon Ander was Trumped by Miriel. She had Trump-imaged sails to deliver, lots of them, far in excess of what she'd predicted. She said she had intended to make linked pairs but she had 29 copies of the Oniru sail. She'd made one, gone to sleep and found 28 copies with it in the morning. Plus another sail, not her work at all. It was ugly, but it worked: rampant, a Pelican, orange and purple.

Ander escorted her around to view the works in progress, taking care to be aggressively protective of her and to prevent her from picking anything up. He explained to her, sotto voce, that he was catering to the local sailors' superstitions, preventing her from jinxing the works. Miriel was quietly appalled; her homeland had no such beliefs and female sailors were not uncommon there. Elrohir joined them after a while and Ander, driven to work work work, politely handed Miriel off to him.

Ander Trumped Vaughn, who was still in the Castle Amber infirmary, and offered him the honor of sailing the flagship of the new fleet to Amber in a few days. Vaughn accepted happily.

Next Ander Trumped Caine and told him he would like to practice with the trumpet player Feruglio. Caine, confused, said he could produce Feruglio in about a week.

Quinn grinned at Edward, who entered Deirdre's office carrying a tray and eating. "First time kicks your ass, doesn't it?"

"Quaintly put, but true," replied Edward, somewhat taken aback. "Anybody want a bite? No? Good."

Deirdre gave Edward over to Quinn for instruction in the uses of the Pattern. An hour into Quinn's explanation of the theory, Ander Trumped Quinn to ask him to come to Verinau soon to enchant more keels, lots more. Quinn told him it would be a couple of days at best --four days in Verinau, he'd sped the place up-- before he would be free. Ander also borrowed Quinn's Trump of Gerard.

Megan entered the room Llewella had waved at. It was a large flat-roofed room bare save for the ring. The ring, now SEVENTEEN FEET TALL stood balanced, the 'empty' air in its center shimmering. Megan looked it over and then Trumped Breann. The power built up, then Megan wasn't merely in contact with Breann: Breann, and Lora, were there with her.

Breann felt the beginnings of a Trump contact, reached for her deck to ascertain who was calling, and found that she and Lora were next to Megan and a big ornate metal ring sculpture, in a place with oddly light-distorting air. She, Megan and Lora shouted in surprise.

Breann and Megan argued about their options. Megan prevented Breann from running her sword through the ring's shimmering center. They debated who to Trump in next, or how to Trump out. Lora walked about hanging a spell and wandered out of the room. Megan tried tentatively to Trump Fiona --no luck. and Breann jumped when Lora returned with a plate of snacks. They all went to the throne room and found that Moire and Llewella had left. They decided to try to Trump Amber Castle's Great Hall, first, despite visions of dragging the whole castle to Caer Beatha.

Quinn took Edward and himself to some rugged Endoran hills to begin Edward's shadow-shifting practice. Edward was a natural. Quinn showed him the basics and not-so-basics. Edward was an excellent student and a natural at shadow-shifting. Quinn demonstrated 'finding' supplies, mounts, money, etc. and enjoyed Edward's guarded expression as he re-thought his entire relationship with material goods. Quinn pointed out to Edward that the family was itself the greatest resource available; 'Obviously' was the reply.

Several hours later, Edward and Quinn returned to Castle Amber. As they passed the Great Hall they saw the grandfather clock Quinn had placed there months ago suddenly fly twenty feet and vanish in a rainbow blip. Quinn examined the vanishing point (coincidentally the point to which one Trumped into the Hall using one of the old Dworkin-made cards) through his Lens and found nothing but a faint Trump energy residue. Fiona, contacted via Trump, said she wasn't doing any experiments. Edward inquired as to why Quinn was so concerned. Quinn wondered aloud whether the effect could be directed and used to snatch people. One of their enemies, supposedly dead, was a --THE-- master of Trump. Edward moved farther away. Quinn activated a shielding spell, tuned to Trump only, and fanned his own Trump deck directly over the suspect point. He immediately felt he was being Trumped on all channels despite the spell. Moving back didn't help. He pulled Fiona's Trump out of the array and tossed it to Edward.

As Edward relayed the message Fiona stepped from behind him --he jumped-- and snapped up the Trump in passing. She returned the Trump to Quinn and examined the effect. She said she didn't know how it was being done and the only suspect that occurred to her was Brand, and Brand was dead. She couldn't trace it either. Then the Trump effect stopped on its own.

More briefings, thought Quinn. "Ah, let me explain what our elders are good at. Fiona, for instance is..." He trailed off, deciding how precisely to phrase it.

"The Red Witch of Amber? Dark Sorceress? Fey Enchantress?" suggested Fiona, posing appropriately.

"Except Logrus. I think." Fiona made a face at him. Quinn continued, "Brand is in her general weight class, psychically, correct?" She nodded. "Benedict is in a similar exalted position with warfare."

"No. He's always been a big drinker, though it's only recently he became a self-proclaimed alcoholic."

"I am in a difficult position regarding Bleys. I am a partisan of Fiona, who wants him alive, and of my father, who wants him dead."

"Quite understandably, given the circumstances," commented Edward, joining in the spirit of fairness.

"So he avoids talking to Bleys at all and offending one of us", Fiona concluded.

"No great loss. Hm. If Brand is alive, it might be the spark Bleys needs to drag himself out of his room."

"He's not? So where is he then?" Silence stretched as Quinn glanced alternately at Fiona, who was not surprised at this news, and Edward, who seemed to be busy kicking himself mentally.

Quinn considered. "So long as he's not going after Dad, I suppose this is an improvement."

Megan and Breann decided to try more drastic measures. Megan pulled the massive throne loose from its bolts, intending to heave it at the ring. Immediately the trio heard sounds as if a thousand mice had started to scamper in the walls, wearing high heels on every foot. The sky-holes in the coral ceiling flickered as the noises moved over them. Dozens, no hundreds of cat-sized spider-crabs flowed into the throne room. The women retreated into the ring room, taking the chair. Lora barred the door. They heard the things trying to scrape their way in.

Quinn spent the evening preparing to search for the source of Corwin's gunpowder. He analyzed the stuff. He questioned Julian about Corwin's haunts. He hung a spell or two. He got a good night's sleep.

Things in Heaven and Earth, Session 37
"I can kick a rat's ass."

Where is everyone?

- Ander --in a flashback-- is sailing through Shadow

- Breann and Megan are in Caer Beatha

- Edward and Quinn are in Castle Amber

FLASHBACK, PRIOR TO FLEET BUILDING Ander experimentally hellsailed to the Shadow Earth by shifting while being dragged behind a ship. Despite this he did arrive in Bremenhaven, Germany, and even arranged, en route, to have recruiting ads placed all over the world for a three year cruise.

While attending to business in Bremenhaven, Ander was Trumped by Victor. Ander hadn’t known Victor was even on Earth. Victor told him he’d seen the ads and took the chance to contact him. Vic hadn’t been able to Trump out to anyone since his arrival and was constantly having to avoid the legion of men looking for Ander or any of his associates. He had traced the drugs used to sedate Ander in Utumno, drugs manufactured on Earth, and was still following the trail despite the Men In Black.

TWO WEEKS LATER Ander sat on the hill overlooking the shipyards and gradually became aware, in an inexplicable but wholly convincing way, of a number of problems that would slow production by days or weeks. If only I could wish them away. NOT WISH: WILL, replied/ordered Someone Else. Ander’s mind focused strangely on the Pattern and the problems and willed them away amid considerable pain. He could feel the Forge and Tir Patterning in the ships. He accidentally slowed Verenau’s relative time rate down to normal and felt it happen. Local reality reshaped itself to his will. He collapsed, hearing WELL PLAYED inside his head.

Ander awoke late and dehydrated the next morning, still on the hill. Down below, the Oniru was about to launch despite his absence. He felt both annoyed and proud as he watched the show. Someone Trumped him-- Victor.

"Ander! Thank God I got through to you. Don’t let that ship get launched!"

Ander tried to pull Vic through to him but couldn’t. Oniru slid into the water and groaned. The pegs holding it together were the same fresh-water-sponging wood that he had used on Caine’s ship, so long ago. The ship’s timbers split and the boat sank as Ander reached the docks.

Caine turned to him on the quay, saying, "You really should have mentioned this to me. I could have taken offense."

AAAAGHHHH! Ander woke up.

[Scott, who plays Ander, took a while to lose his ‘You shot my puppy’ stunned expression.]

Ander, still on the hillside, made haste to the docks and checked Oniru very carefully. It was fine.

Breann, who’d apparently been watching Quinn more closely than she’d let on, suggested to the others that Megan give Lora a psychic impression of someplace to teleport. Lora had one hung, right?

"Four."

They did that thing and arrived in the outer city, soaking wet. Lora denied that excess water was a special effect built into her teleport spells.

Quinn chose a good hellriding horse from those recommended by the stable master and wondered who named them. ‘Snowflake’, ‘Buttercup’, ‘Posey’... He teleported to a chivalric shadow he remembered from his youth and started riding towards the source of the gunpowder. He hoped. He sped up while maintaining minimal ‘wake’, becoming in time a friction-less bullet... Hours passed. He slowed as the shifting became trickier. The sky was orange and gray; he was perhaps 70% of the distance from Amber to Ygg. Shifting became more difficult. He stopped to scan the area for signs of alteration: none. He shifted through intricate ravines for hours and finally arrived at a rocky coast, under a red sun and a milk-white sky, by a blue-white sea. Scanning through the Lens he found NO MAGIC AT ALL (paranoia up three notches), a sea teeming with life and the minerals he sought in deposits underwater all along the coast at about thirty feet under water. He smelled smoke and his Aretian earcom burned its way through its cloak pocket and fell to the sand. Scratch technology, too.

Edward rode through Arden and was eventually able to begin shifting towards the image of The Baron (silly name, that) that Deirdre had passed to him. He passed through several ‘Golden Circle’ lands, through Aramyst and into Khand, which The Baron’s zombi armies had devastated. He avoided the many bands of brigands easily and finally entered Ys [pronounced ‘eece’], The Baron’s stronghold. Ys was poorly lit, prone to oily fogs and not to Muerte’s (Edward’s horse) taste at all.

He found little evidence of habitation as he rode along bleak sea cliffs until he saw the lights of a city on the coast ahead.

Breann was particularly annoyed at being soaked. All her Trump sketches were now soggy and hard to light. She, Megan and Lora drew some stares. Megan turned blue to match the locals. Breann stared them down. They decided to Trump Quinn, the lucky boy.

Quinn’s scans led him to believe that the world’s biosphere was terribly interdependent and fragile. Introducing a new variety of tree frog would probably kill most the life within a decade. Most animals were several times as intelligent as their counterparts elsewhere. Most predators used psi-based lures or concealment. The source of the chemicals he wanted was the coral reef (not really coral, it was, for instance, live throughout instead of just on the surface, but it looked like dark pink coral), which was itself a mid-grade hive mind with psychic sensitivity. Not quite sapient.

Quinn stripped to his shorts and a tool belt and swam out and down to the nearest bit of reef. The milky water tasted like blood. He selected a fist-sized knob and knocked it off with his mineral-hammer. The reef SCREAMED mentally. Quinn was half-expecting something of the sort and was unaffected. Most of the nearby fish were stunned. He swam back to the beach thinking about the virtues of strip-mining the reef out, which would kill off the world, or a continuous operation with divers all along the coasts, which would entail constant vigilance against hijacking. Forever.

Someone was trying to Trump him. He stopped halfway to his clothes and pulled his deck out of a belt pouch. He fanned his cards: Breann. OK, he accepted the call...

...and looked around at Caer Beatha’s unusual features, plus Breann, Megan and Lora. Oh, well.

While Megan and Breann gave him a spotty description of their situation Quinn checked systems and found that his time in the Whiteworld had wiped out all the spells hung in his ring and the only vestige of Pattern he could summon amounted to a Lens visor whose range was mere inches from his head. Only his permanent teleportation spell was available to him.

Breann and Megan informed Quinn that the local authorities, primarily Queen Moire and Llewella, were hostile and supported by a number of alert and probably powerful subordinates. The object that Fiona had sent Megan to recover now weighed tons and rested in the royal palace. Breann had been the one who snagged the clock in the Great Hall and Trumped Quinn on all channels. Quinn had a hard time believing that. Breann wasn’t much of a psychic giant and Fiona had thought the event was Brand’s work. Apparently the ring artifact acted as an amplifier --Lora said it looked something like Ygg in the way it gathered energy-- for Trump, at the least. Quinn thought they should leave. Unfortunately, Megan had traveled underwater, usually deep underwater, for several shadows before reaching Caer Beatha.

While they conferred, Random, or his twin, walked by, outfitted as one of the local watchmen. Breann confronted Random, claiming him as her uncle. He didn’t recognize her. She started to insist and looked ready to beat recognition into him --despite remembering that Random was much, much better than she with a sword. Quinn stepped in and apologized to the officer, saying that the man did, indeed, closely resemble his cousin’s lost and beloved uncle. Quinn asked for directions, casually touching Random on the arm in a casual and useless-for-attacking way. A completely passive scan revealed an elaborate, imposed 'shell personality' over a psychic peer underneath. Quinn managed to pick up where Random lived, got his directions and escorted his cousins away, Breann wanted to grab Random immediately. Quinn said they could find him and trap him later. Assaulting a cop in public was a bad plan. As they walked away they noticed that Random was being tailed by three men, one of whom winked at Megan in passing.

Now really paranoid, they decided to teleport away to Megan’s last surface site, about six shadows away. Quinn had never teleported six shadows without the Pattern backing him up, but he was much, much stronger that he had been a few months earlier. How hard could it be?

He asked Lora and the others to back him up, got the location from Megan and activated the spell. It contacted the site and started pulling them through. They felt stretched and COLD. COLDER. COLDER. They were between places a long, long time, tens of seconds. Quinn almost lost consciousness in transit. They reappeared in a circle of frozen(!) sea water, thin shells of ice covering their bodies. Breann and Megan were tired and chilled, Lora was exhausted but could move and Quinn sank like a stone, now completely unconscious. Megan pulled him to the surface and restarted his breathing. Then she turned into a sort of tough jellyfish and supported her relatives. Quinn regained consciousness in a few seconds but had no energy to move. Megan shaped breasts to pillow his head which he accepted as his due.

Edward slipped through a nighted forest to evade patrols. Admirably alert and disciplined patrols. He happened upon a light and approached it. It was a big bonfire surrounded by pickets of alert but inwardly focused soldiers. He worked his way to a vantage point. Several teams of men set up ballistae --giant crossbows-- all aimed at the air immediately above a big flat stone altar. A drunk or drugged looking girl, maybe seventeen and pretty, dressed in a white gown and manacles, sat nearby. The ballista teams were efficient and quiet. Edward noticed that the ballista bolts looked like harpoons and trailed thin lines that hooked the weapons together in pairs. The soldiers wore black, concealing cloaks and all the metal had been blackened. The girl was led to the rock and chained to it, arms outspread. The soldiers and Edward waited. Twenty minutes later, a shadow flitted in front of the moon, then eclipsed it. The girl moaned, thrashed started to scream. The soldiers tensed. Something big dropped into the clearing. It moved fast and was hard to see. It was maybe twelve or sixteen feet tall and winged. Edward got impressions of a scaled minotaur/griffin/man with feathered or scaly wings and glowing or highly reflective red eyes. It leaped like a kangaroo onto the screaming girl, ripping through her and scoring the rock she lay on. The ballistae fired over it's head, dropping a laughably thin net over it. The soldiers rushed forward to spike the net down. The thing tore at the net but it was incredibly tough and extremely elastic. The monster roared and struggled for twenty minutes before exhausting itself -- something that seemed to happen unnaturally quickly. The soldiers then bundled it up in yards and yards of the stretchy cord and netting and manhandled it onto a waiting wagon.

Only one young soldier threw up. Edward overheard him talking to one of his comrades. "I still can’t understand why we need to do it that way."

The veteran replied as though reiterating an old maxim, "If we don’t catch them while they’re young we can't catch 'em at all."

The squad cleaned up the site, washing down the rock and burying bits of girl while the rest of them escorted the wagon towards the city. Edward followed for a while.

Quinn recovered enough to Trump Fiona --she didn’t appear among them-- and explained the oddities of their situation, instant involuntary Trumping and all. She thought for a moment, then verified that Quinn had not seen the Ring and pulled him through --he passed the Trump to Megan as he went. Fiona led Quinn from her lab to another room/cavern off the Pattern room and then ordered Breann, Megan and Lora to close their eyes and come through. Into a totally dark cell. Large and clean for a cell, but still a cell whose door closed and locked behind them. Fiona told them she needed them to stay there a while.

Outside, she examined Quinn’s coral sample and told him she had some bad news. In researching the Trump phenomenon she had discovered that Brand was alive. Quinn came up with an upside to that: it would give Bleys something to do. Fiona teleported Quinn, who was stumbling and shivering, to his room.

Where is everyone?

- Ander is in Shadow Verenau, building ships
- Edward is in Shadow Ys, doing recon
- Megan and Breann are with Lora in a dark dungeon under Castle Amber
- Quinn is also in the Castle, sleeping soundly in his own comfy bed

Return to the Synopsis

Quinn dreamed. His mother Artanis and two of her attendant ladies hurried down a palace corridor, lights igniting before them and dousing behind. Even in a dream Quinn was disturbed; Artanis never hurried. She sometimes moved very quickly but she never hurried. They stopped at a massive double-doorway and Artanis made passes in the air. Adril –Champion of the Noldor—and Elladan ran up to them. Adril was a little bloody, Elladan gory with many superficial wounds. Artanis opened the door as Mori archers loosed a flight of bolts at her party. Adril parried all of them, Artanis shoved her women through the doors, pulled Adril and Elladan in and slammed the doors shut. A squad of Mori banged on the doors.

Edward followed the successful demon hunters to the castle overlooking the coastal city he had bypassed earlier. He studied the castle’s defenses and decided to try to act immediately. He concentrated on altering the odds of one of the demon hunters getting a pebble in his boot and stopping to pull it out. After a few moments one did leave the group, sit down, remove his boot and shake out several rocks. Edward snagged him from behind, inverted him and slit the man’s throat while keeping the uniform nearly blood free. He shape-shifted into the dead man’s form, donned the usable clothes and weapons and joined the troop. He passed the checkpoints without trouble. Close up, the demon radiated heat like a furnace.

They entered the castle’s courtyard and headed towards a megalith surrounded by wizards, flickering witch-light and a magickal gateway. The troop passed through it. Edward felt a moment of blistering cold, the demon roared and they were through. The gateway vanished behind them. Their new locale was similar to the one they had just left, only bigger. Huge. It resembled an arena with no seats, perhaps a ten minute walk from the central megalith to the edge. The demon was placed in a cell built into the arena wall. Edward bivouacked perforce with the demon hunters a hundred yards from the gateway point.

Ander worked at the shipyard on two ships that were nearly ready, the Oberon and the Impatient Grace. He felt a Trump call, a strange one –no, two calls at once. He accepted them. Victor, in Shadow Earth, and Gerard, who’d sailed on the Oniru the day before, talked to him at the same time.

"Karl! We have a problem. I managed to slip out of the place but they’re after me!" Ander heard gunfire in Victor’s vicinity and yanked him through to Verinau.

"Ander! We have three of the Baron’s ships bearing down on us. Can you send us help? I’d hate to run away on the first voyage."

"Have I got some stuff to tell you –oh my God, Karl!" Victor really looked at the huge ships along the wharf. "Do we talk now or do we wait?"

Ander mentally reviewed the Oberon and Impatient Grace. He had the Trump sails, powder and ammunition, troops… "How long until they close?" he asked Gerard.

Ander frantically made the arrangements, pulling sailors off the Unicorn and the Faiella, telling the Vari to ready themselves for combat, giving the ships’ masters their orders. The Oberon launched in forty-five minutes with Ander aboard. The Impatient Grace would follow in a couple of hours with Victor on it. Oberon sailed out quickly and set the Trump sail for the Oniru just beyond the breakwater. Ander felt a Trump contact and accepted it: Gerard. The crew concentrated, concentrated…

…the sail stiffened, shimmered with rainbow lights, grew real and the Oberon was there, behind the Oniru, one enemy ship close to starboard, another to port and the third behind. Gerard ordered full sails. Oberon fired its fifty-two cannon broadside raggedly into the nearest enemy. About twenty hit, shredding the upper levels, the masts and the fire disc launcher. Zombies rained into the sea. Ander gestured to the Vari leaders who were staring at the undead sailors in horror. The Vari quickly saw the zombies wouldn’t die, but they could be nailed to the ship or debris.

The portside enemy scored a hit on the Oberon’s side with a fire disk but Ander’s ships were fireproof and, after a few moments, his sailors believed it. The port broadside blew the bottom out of that ship; it sank like a stone. The third ship fled with Gerard in pursuit. Half an hour later Gerard Trumped Ander to report success –and one human prisoner. The Vari commander reported that they were out of arrows.

Oniru rejoined Oberon as Impatient Grace Trumped in. They decided that Gerard would continue to Amber while the other ships took the time to shake down. They would Trump to the Oniru as it entered Amber harbor.

The jailbirds killed time. Lora re-hung spells. Breann tried to sleep. Megan did annoying things. Breann gave up on sleep and sparred with Megan while Lora huddled in the corner with her witch-light over her head. Hours later they stopped and turned to magic lessons. Lora tried to teach Breann to teleport but Breann was not very good with the details. Had they been somewhere teleports actually worked, Breann would have entombed herself in Kolvir. Twice. Lora grew impatient. Alternately, Megan had Lora zap her with minor magickal effects to help stimulate a shape-shift towards magic resistance.

After lunch Fiona joined Quinn to discuss the plight of the ladies in the dungeon. The Device attuned to people, not the other way around. Then it turned random thoughts and fears into reality. Fiona had destroyed a fair swath of Shadow despite her iron control over her thoughts. It had taken a century to work out a method of turning it off, then months to accomplish. Dworkin had helped –it attuned to him as well but Dworkin found it merely annoying. Fiona looked discouraged and old for the first time in Quinn’s experience. She thought that neither Llewella or Moire were attuned and that Megan had been set up to become a sort of human bomb. The ring was sentient but, no, it was not inclined to let anyone go, no matter how nicely one asked. She doubted Llewella knew how to turn it off.

Dawn came to the arena. Edward could now see that the arena was a perfect circle with the plinth at the center, surrounded by six Gates. The plinth was perhaps forty yards on a side at the base and about a hundred yards high.

On closer examination, the plinth looked as if it were made of smoked glass, with Something huge and squid-like moving about the liquid interior.

Quinn told Deirdre he’d found the source of the gunpowder and of the peculiarities of the shadow. He thought they had a choice of mining the place out, killing the world, or setting up an ongoing careful harvest. She preferred the continuous supply.

Fiona joined the ladies in the dungeon and gave them the bad news. Breann had a hard time believing that she couldn’t manage the monomania necessary to manipulate the thing. (For that matter, so did most everyone else.) Fiona told them she thought their best chance was to return to Caer Beatha and attempt to convince it to let them go while trying various techniques to induce the correct mental state. Breann’s momentary encounter with Benedict came up, much to Fiona’s surprise. She hadn’t known he was flitting around.

Eventually the conversation ran down to a depressed silence. Then the cell door, which Fiona was using as a backrest, opened and Benedict looked in on them. He was carrying the Ring, shrunk down to Frisbee size again, in one hand. He asked Fiona if he could borrow it. She recovered from her shock enough to consent. He left.

Fiona, Lora, Breann and Megan left the dungeon. Breann dragged Lora off for more Sorcery lessons; Fiona told Lora to take precautions. Fiona went off to lunch. Megan tracked down Caine to brief him about the Beathan ship she had encountered.

Caine took Megan’s report with little grace. Gerard and Ander were up to something and he had been left in the dark. He told her that there was some event they were asked to attend that evening.

Megan looked for Deirdre and found the Regent looking for her. Deirdre asked after Breann. Megan was vague. Deirdre told her to attend the "little surprise" at the docks just after moonset, and that Gerard wished to speak with her. Deirdre wasn’t hot to rescue Random from Beatha.

Edward, shapeshifted to resemble a deceased Ysian soldier and nose to nose with a half-ton demon, kept his cool, or most of it, as it rumbled gibberish at him. Literally rumbled—the voice seemed to come out of the ground.

Edward’s captain hurried over, angry and nervous. He pushed Edward’s head down and dragged him away while saying something to the demon.

"Tinder, what are you doing? You know the rules. It’s not like you’re an idiot kid. We don’t look at the Valkauri or the Sleeping One while we’re here."

"Yeah, I know. We’re gonna pack up before they find something else for us to do. You know what happened to the last guys."

They separated and hustled through the preparations, Edward copying the others. They went through the Gate to what looked like the fortress in Ys they’d come from the day before, chanting mages and everything. Edward found a message board and read that Tinder was assigned to Post 3 along with a name he recognized, the young man who had thrown up at the demon capture. Ed found him and tagged along. Post 3 was on the outermost wall. The kid was sullen and the ten hours of guard duty passed slowly. Four demons—valkauri—flew overhead at all times. Travelers, even the soldiers, made signs against evil when valkauri shadows passed over them. One overflew Edward; the shadow was cold. At nightfall the valkauri flew off in different directions. On flew straight up and was lost to even Edward’s sight. Edward gossiped with the cook who brought their meal at mid-shift. The only item of interest was that two supply ships had gone missing.

Fiona found Quinn in the kitchens, grabbed him by the arm and pulled him up the stairs.

"A bottle of wine and two glasses to the library," she called to an under-cook. Then to Quinn: "You’re never going to believe this!" The translators Quinn had shanghaied to Amber weeks ago were in the library with a pile of books. "You! Out!" They didn’t argue. The wine arrived just after they sat down—the good stuff, Quinn noticed. The servant whisked out and Fiona told Quinn about Benedict arriving with the Circlet of Doom deactivated in his hand and asking to borrow it.

Quinn thought about it, this was the first he’d heard that Benedict was up and about. The Jewel should not be wholly effective in Beatha, but evidently Benedict could use it to see even there. And he’s Benedict: nobody argues with him when he takes the thing. Probably he was the only one who had the necessary control over his thoughts, both by training and by his experience with the Jewel… Quinn went pale.

Quinn drained his glass. "Not Benedict. Dworkin. Benedict told me he doesn't know who took him out."

Fiona took a deep breath. "He wouldn’t do that. I don’t think he would. It doesn’t bear thinking about." She thought for a moment, then added slowly, "With his demonstrated mastery of the Jewel, he could find out who was responsible. And act on it. Which Dworkin would anticipate."

Quinn refreshed their glasses. "So he probably just used the existing situation. So why worry about it?"

They smiled brave smiles and clinked glasses. Turning to other subjects, Fiona told him that Breann was learning Sorcery from Lora, and that Lora had implied Breann was doing it wrong. Quinn shrugged, "Of course."

They discussed the ships and the event that evening. Quinn suggested they make a party of it. An open one, for the whole town. Fiona thought that so long as the Trump sails remained secret, a party was a fine idea. Quinn thought it, and the ships (which were awfully impressive on their own) would help morale among the mortals. He said they should do fireworks—spells—himself, Fiona and Lora. Fiona liked the idea and went off to convince Deirdre.

Quinn pulled out his deck to Trump Lora and remembered his dream. He tried to Trump Artanis instead. Failed. Something seemed to be ‘scattering’ and ‘reflecting’ the energies, like lights in fog. Trying harder only ‘lit up more fog’.

OK: Lora. Lora answered immediately. "Quinn, this is so cool. You have to see this." She was atop Kolvir near the stairs (all three of them) to nowhere. She pulled him through. He noticed rubble all around them, and Breann complaining from a magic Training Circle inscribed before the first stair. "Isn’t this great? Well, not now but I’ll show you." Lora stacked stones and answered Breann’s shouted questions. Breann was trying to take far too many shortcuts in a teleport spell. Destination, for instance. Lora’s replies had an edge of irritation. The stacked stones began to bind together. Lora had Quinn close his eyes; he summoned the Lens while waiting.

"Open them." The stones were now a roughly humanoid statue about ten feet tall and six feet wide, very energy intensive. Pretty impressive, done on Kolvir itself with no Pattern. "Now this part." Lora had it mimic her movements and enthused about its ability to follow simple commands, voice recognition, usefulness for fetching and carrying, seeking out sources of magickal energy…

Quinn smiled at her. "Ah. Immune to cold and ice, too." Lora smiled back innocently. "Heavy enough to smash through ice in its path."

"If a layer of ice should happen to appear before it, it won’t be affected. It could keep on walking to a big magick source and give it a hug."

"You see where I’m going with this." Lora’s magicks were largely geared against the icemage who called himself The Baron. She was particularly expert with fire magick. Quinn explained about the party and proposed fireworks. Lora loved the idea. Quinn said he’d start off with a big Unicorn-shaped effect to reassure the populace. He assumed they were not accustomed to fireworks.

As their shift ended Edward/Tinder and his partner were told to clean up, switch to their dress uniforms and report to the arena for inspection by major VIPs. Edward managed to figure out which bunk and chest was ‘his’, changed and joined his unit among those arrayed around the Gate. The VIPs arrived and turned out to be The Baron himself, and his entourage. Edward studied the man. He had remarkable presence and did not appear to be dead or undead himself, though cold rolled off him as if he were made of frozen nitrogen. The Baron made to circuits of the arena in careful inspection. Edward planned his escape route and noted that they had left the Gate open. The Baron talked to Cael, the castle’s commander, then left through the Gate.

Cael addressed the troops. Two new ships were unavailable, so they were to have the honor of providing marines for new ships. Edward/Tinder’s unit and another had been chosen, due to their excellent performance. The marched towards a wonderful future: Amber would fall, the Golden Circle would be theirs and in honor of various unpronounceable names; the Gate pulsed at the sound of one Name and everyone was surprised. They were to sail in the morning.

Walking the ramparts after a nap, Megan noticed a flash of white off across Garnath valley, about seven miles away. She made her eyes hawklike and saw that it was the Unicorn, or a unicorn, near its Vale. Megan flew off to the Vale but found no Unicorn. The shrine was empty, quiet, pleasant. Her mind wandered. She was being watched, turned. The Unicorn was in the shadows looking at her with solid blue electric eyes like windows to somewhere else. White, slightly iridescent and wiry though somehow unsolid-seeming. Megan approached it slowly. It had a luminous aura; the air around it thinned and numbed the skin. It moved to her. Megan tried to remember to breathe. It lowered its horn down Megan’s chest and waited. Megan held out her hand and the horn touched her palm. ELECTROSHOCK ACID TRIP ROLLERCOASTER RIDE

Flashes: Benedict as Odin, Fiona one of his ravens. Finndo as Vulcan, hammering. A Griffin, a Phoenix, a Salamander, an ancient Dragon’s face. A huge Kraken-thing, its many arms melded into a many-armed Megan-faced Kali. And on and on….

She blacked out for maybe half a minute, but it was dusk. Six or eight hours had gone by. Oh shit, I’m going to be late for the party.

Quinn, Breann, and all the available family except Megan watched the Oniru sail in from Caine’s ship just beyond the harbor’s breakwater. Fiona was in high spirits and kept nudging Quinn as Caine groused. "Wonderful. It’s another sloop. What’s the big.." Caine’s jaw dropped as two huge rainbow shimmers became the Impatient Grace and the Oberon Trumping in.

Caine quizzed Fiona about the Trump sails as the La Rue docked. Fiona gave Miriel most of the credit. He only vaguely knew who Miriel was.

A crowd had gathered to see what the fuss was about: beer wagons, food wagons, musicians, the Regent’s honor guard. The gigantic Oberon and Impatient Grace made big impressions on them. Then Deirdre made a speech, mercifully brief. The fireworks started with a huge white plasma Unicorn surrounded by green stars –Quinn’s. Lora took over enthusiastically. Megan flew in dressed in a few straps, a couple of small scarves and good intentions. (Caine was heard to say, "That’s right. Remind the men what they’re fighting for.") Verenese, Vari and Earther crewmen mingled with the townsfolk, who greeted the foreign cannon fodder warmly. Gerard introduced the shipmasters to the family.

Edward/Tinder sailed out on a ship crewed by a strange kind of undead. They didn’t decay or harden. They did smell bad, sort of a combination corpse/foul locker room/mildew stench. They were always damp, even slimy. Occasionally he would catch a glimpse of something moving about inside a chest cavity. The movement reminded him of the Thing In The Pillar, what the Ysians called the Sleeping One. The ship’s captain only came out at night, when the shadow shifting was done. The captain was something like the Baron in aura and manner, though not himself a source of intense cold.

Edward and the other marines had very little to do on the voyage. But fear soon livened their boring routine when they noticed that the men sleeping nearest the entrance to their bay, nearest the crew, became afflicted with a malady of sweats and fevers that left them looking and acting like crewmen. Edward noted that the victims had double punctures at the solar plexus, freshly sewn up.

Edward’s bunk was in the middle. He approached his commander about the situation. The man had not known about this aspect of sea duty and hoped devoutly that they would soon capture another ship to provide alternatives to his men. Edward/Tinder’s young buddy volunteered to sleep in the crow’s nest. The changed marines were invited to leave. Two more were assimilated before they instituted strict watches and repelled night time intruders.

Quinn mingled, flirted, danced (very well), played his guitar (12-string, Spanish), drank beer and ate finger food.

Breann couldn’t practice her sorcery without Lora and the Training Circle, which neutralized and analyzed magicks performed within it. Well, she could, but the Circle had shown her that she had a tendency to teleport into solid rock. A safety net was a good thing. She circulated until she found a poker game in progress and joined it. Kethos, Vaughn, Lora, captain Anthony, Max and Shin Shin from Verenau and the Varan Gheled all steadily took money from her. She decided that her poker face needed work.

Gerard found Megan and sounded her out on going back to Caer Beatha for Random. None of the available family members were interested and he couldn’t go in a wheelchair. He pulled out all the stops, appealing to honor, sympathy, family loyalty, etc. Megan wavered.

Breann felt a Trump contact and held it off while she checked her deck: Theseus. She cooperated with the call and strange things happened. The Theseus Trump in her hand silvered as if it were passing through a Trump portal. Silence descended and fog shrouded everything, clearing to reveal only Kethos, Vaughn and Lora at the table. The crowd was gone.

Lora did idle prestidigitator tricks with her magick focus ball as she looked around. "Cool."

Their surrounding were exactly the same as where they had been, only dead quiet and with less people. It was very reminiscent of being up in the Tir in the old days. The only sound or light came from one ship. The four strolled over to check it out. A big dark man paused in rearranging crates to look at them, smiled. "Ah, good. You’re here now."

The pulse of energy on the edge of the street party brought Quinn and Caine to the poker table in a hurry. Fiona was already there. She and Quinn studied the energy signature through Pattern Lenses. Quinn couldn’t make much out at first beyond purified magick.

Anthony told them that Breann had pulled out another deck of cards and he had assumed she wanted to switch to a luckier set. Then 'they' disappeared—Breann, Vaughn, Lora and Kethos. Anthony had assumed he’d nodded off for a moment.

Quinn made out more structure in the energy traces: Sorcery and Conjury and Trump and a Tir-ish feel. "Oh shit."

The four shanghaiees sailed a starlit sea, or a sea of stars. They weren’t sure which.

Kethos’ eyes narrowed and he smiled wolfishly. Breann noticed and knew he was thinking of Osric. Whenever Kethos knew where Osric was he headed straight at him with murder in his heart. No matter that he had almost no chance of winning.

They argued about who was actually behind their abduction. Breann was convinced that it was Not Good. She couldn’t find a way to get back to Amber, though. All their Trumps were silvered over. She tried to shift Shadow and found that she could draw on the Tir’s Pattern, so they were in its region, but she couldn’t shift out of the shadow they were in.

Finally Manuel, their friendly abductor, told Breann that Theseus had given him proof of his friendly intent; he handed her the Trump of Tir that Theseus had promised her on her last visit.

Edward/Tinder’s ship readied for an assault on an Amberite patrol ship. They had frighteningly good information on schedules, hidden supply bases, manning, everything. Provided by the Baron. Edward thought it far too comprehensive to have been gathered by interrogating prisoners, even a lot of prisoners.

They coasted around a jungle isle into a cove so well hidden that Caine must have designed it by Shadow Shifting. The Amberites were doing exactly what the Baron’s information said they would, split evenly between their ship and a shore camp. The marine commander (Edward's Boss) directed his men to capture as many prisoners as possible, intending to use them to help man the second ship, thus taking it and his men away from the zombies. The ships crew (along with the assimilated marines) headed after the shore crew twenty of the Amberite 'prisoners' from shore were assimilated, except for the bound and gagged ship's captain. The marines attacking the ship ended up successfully capturing the ship's master and quite a few crew.

Fiona said that the Trump work was definitely Theseus’, and the other work was so advanced that she thought it could be only Artanis’ or Osric’ work. Furthermore, if it was a Gate, it wasn’t going directly to the Tir. Quinn said that Osric would have Trumped him, not Breann, so it was probably Artanis. Fiona told him to go back to the party. He did.

Gerard continued to work on Megan. He said that sneaking in and out again should not be nearly so difficult without the Circlet of Doom (not that he called it that; only Quinn/Randy calls it that) turning her every fear into reality. Megan was skeptical, but gave in. She insisted on being equipped with a couple of useful un-Patterned Trumps. Gerard didn’t want Fiona involved, so Megan suggested Caine, but Gerard said his brother was merely an expert Trump user. He settled on Miriel, saying he’d talk to her and that he thought she would keep the secret if asked to.

Quinn made the rounds of the party again, flirting and dancing. Deirdre was not interested; he was no longer sure that she ever had been. Eventually he and an interesting woman found each other. They spent the night and morning at her place.

Edward/Tinder’s commander handed over the Amberite captain to the Baron’s captain. In return, he got one of his own ‘assimilated’ men back; his men thought this was a Bad Idea. All became clear when the Commander assembled their captive Amberite crew and explained their alternatives. Do a good job and make no trouble and they would not be given over for ‘assimilation’. He demonstrated Assimilation by gutting the sample assimilatee, allowing a creature like a segmented foot-long tree slug to fall out and flop on the deck—until he pinned it with his saber. The Amberite sailors seemed to take this to heart and the Commander's men congratulated themselves on their luck in officers.

They sailed for two days towards Port Mengsk. At noon on the second day, Edward took advantage of the siesta (the Baron’s captain was only active at night) to slip into the hold and Trump through to the Great Hall of Amber.

Megan woke up in a lieutenant’s cabin on the Hand of Oberon (though not with the lieutenant) and headed for the Castle. Once there she ran into Fiona, not by her choice, and became the subject of intense scrutiny. Oh, yeah. The Unicorn.

Fiona waited until after breakfast to pounce, cornering Megan in an alcove. "So, Megan. You’re looking vibrant today. Anything you want to tell me?" Silence. Megan assumed a thoughtful expression. Fiona pressed her, "So who did you run into? Did you walk the Pattern?"

"I saw it from a distance. I went there. It came by… and it put it’s horn in my hand."

Fiona rejected several more responses. "Really. That’s somewhat unusual, since the Unicorn hasn’t been seen for many years. Did it communicate anything to you?’

"You’re not feeling any strange compulsions, are you? You don’t want to kill anyone or search for something…?"

"Your aura looks as if you had walked the Pattern—but I’d have known if you had."

Ander planed wood while thinking about the whole shipbuilding project. All but the Allegro and Dworkin’s Pelican were finished save for the detailing. Those two were having problems.

Miriel Trumped him to chat about the party, the reaction to the Oniru and Hand of Oberon and the doings of his family. She gave him a Trump of his son Davin and told him that the boy had acquired a pony. Ander seemed to be bemused by the gift. He tried it out immediately, though, and talked to his very dirty, horse-crazy son.

When Ander cut the contact he realized that someone had been trying to talk to him in Verenau. Victor. Victor wanted to know when they were going to follow up on his investigations on Shadow Earth, tracing the people who had caught, drugged and tortured Ander –twice—and then put Ander, his wife and children, Vic and his family, and Ander’s mother and sister into the Chaos prison Utumno. Ander tried to blow him off. Victor, confused, pressed the matter.

Ander was really pissed off. About Utumno. And Quinn’s magic messages. Which Victor and his kids had received. "Either you’ve been playing me for a fool… or you haven’t." Victor had assumed the messages went to everyone Quinn had met. Ander accused him of acting. Victor denied. Ander told him the spell had gone to blood relatives. Victor said it was impossible, he knew who all his relatives were. Quinn had been a little loopy then, maybe that was it.

Ander thought that everything from their first meeting on Earth while he was amnesiac and everything since had been arranged. Victor was hurt and wanted to somehow establish his innocence. Ander started to doubt. He Trumped them through to Amber.

Lora set up a training Circle and enjoyed the magick-friendly environment of near-Tir. She asked cruise-master Manuel if he had any rocks. Breann used the circle and improved her teleporting. She almost never virtual-‘ported into the ground any more.

Vaughn whittled. Kethos sharpened his sword; it hissed in pleasure. Lora animated little rope men and ran them around the ship. Kethos frightened it away with his fiery sword. Lora made more rope-golems and practiced controlling several at once. Kethos amused himself by sneaking up on them and setting them afire.

Kethos, after looking at Lora and Breann for a while: "You know, Lora, if you dyed your hair blonde, you two could be sisters."

They tried to not look at the sky, which was constantly busy with images like a giant movie screen.

Quinn had breakfast with Donata at her house. They parted amiably. He had every intention of continuing their affair.

Deirdre approved Quinn’s plans for ‘Whiteworld’ and brought in Fiona and Julian to help. Quinn took them to his private lab at QED, Aretia, and set to work. They scanned Whiteworld via Pattern Lens and selected the best shadow path for defensive purposes. Julian designed defenses for the blocking/gateway shadow. In six hours of delicate work, Fiona and Quinn Edited out all the other shadow connections to Whiteworld.

Over dinner, Fiona told them of Megan’s encounter with the Unicorn. Julian baited Fiona with a look (Megan—Unicorn—hm) and got a rise out of her. Quinn speculated that the Unicorn was sending a message merely by leaving a Pattern power signature on Megan, Fiona’s daughter.

Julian returned to Amber. Quinn and Fiona Edited the gateway shadow –Trollheim.

Next, Quinn touched up Aretia, adding a processing facility for the Whiteworld coral. Finally they teleported to Endor and made arrangements with the king of the Blue Mountain dwarves for coral harvesters. Fiona met the first four harvest team leaders so she could make Trumps of them.

They rested comfortably in Aretia. Quinn had waited twenty-three years for an occasion to introduce Blue Ruin liquor to Fiona, sure that someone who loved absinthe, Chateau d’If and strawberry daiquiris would appreciate it. He was right.

THINGS IN HEAVEN AND EARTH LOG-45

Megan paced around her princely suite in Moire’s palace mulling over the events of the day. One, she hadn’t expected nice. Two, some of her Unicorn-given visions were bothering her, particular the one of the Kraken-thing and the one of her with six arms like Kali. And three, the Beathan Pattern fascinated and tempted her. Trusting soul, she tentatively decided to trust Aunt Llewella. Then bed.

Quinn’s apprehensions preyed upon him. He decided to run a few Tarot spreads concerning the mission and went to the Tir to find the necessary cards. Theseus lent Quinn what he needed.

Edward recognized the warbot confronting him and his father across the skyway intersection as an ABC unit, capable of taking a hit from a medium tank gun, once. Quite unusual for home defense. He dove into the empty armored guard post opposite while calling out, "Unit! Self Identification Subroutine!"

Edward frantically looked for the weapons locker while going over what he knew about ABC robots. He could get into its access hatch on the back of the ‘equine’ section. BRRRAAAAAAAKKKKKKKK! The robots autocannon cut the guard hut nearly in half at waist level. Edward, experienced in the ways of warbots, was crawling and only picked up a bit of schrapnel. BRRRAAAAKKKKK! Another autocannon roar, this time aimed elsewhere. Clanging and Bleys grunting in exertion. The weapons locker had been blown open. The best of the guns was a heavy AP flechette gun; he loaded it, rolled to the door and shot the robot three times, staggering it. It rotated its torso back to face Edward, while he shot a hole out of the back of the hut and rolled out of it. BRRRAKKKKKKKK! The robot thoroughly destroyed the hut.

"How do you stop this thing? Is there an off switch?" yelled Bleys, slicing off bits of the robot.

The machine concentrated on Bleys again and Edward sprinted over and leaped onto its back.

"Access panel, dammit!" Edward yelled back, stung at this implied critique of his tactics. The panel opened. Bleys shot the bot in the sensor-cluster ‘head’ while staying too close for it to use the autocannon but took a few glancing blows in the process. Edward tried the likeliest codes he knew. Access Denied. Access Denied. Access Denied. The robot started rotating to deal with him. Edward brought the flechette gun round and shot into the access panel just as the point of Bleys’ sword emerged from it. The turning robot torso clubbed Edward off its back

It exploded. Edward blacked out. Only for a moment, though. He came to hanging from a hydraulic line off the edge of the skyway. His right arm didn’t work, so he pulled himself up left handed—something popped in his shoulder—over the edge in time to see the robot’s still-active torso six feet away. A small panel opened on one arm, revealing a bug red button. It slapped it as Ed let himself slide down. BOOOOMMM! He fell.

Breann was relaxing after a sparring session with Adril when she felt an incoming Trump call. Mom. She resisted it, and the next one and the next. Half an hour later Gerard tried. Shit. She rejected that one too, then Trumped him a few minutes later.

"Breann! I was just trying to reach you. Were you busy—never mind. Your mother wants to talk to you."

Deirdre put her hand on Gerard’s shoulder to join the link. "Breann. I was trying to contact you." She examined Breann’s face, noting the remnants of massive bruising. "Are you well?"

Breann displayed the scar on her hand, turning it to show both sides. "I still have one."

That brought on a lot of questions that Breann stubbornly evaded. "What do you want."

"There are some papers for you to sign. Governmental, some concerning inheritance. When can you take care of them?"

Quinn was not pleased with the results of his Tarot spreads. His question was: What will be the outcome of my mission against the Master of Ceremonies.

The TOWER was his goal. Could be read as either disaster for the mission or a take on the mission’s purpose—massive death and destruction.

The HERMIT influenced events from the shadows. Dworkin? Someone new? Brand? Shit.

The overt threats were represented by the EMPRESS and HIEROPHANT. Brigid and the M of C? Quinn would have expected the Queen of Swords. They could hardly be anyone else.

Covert threats: the EMPEROR, the QUEEN OF CUPS and the MAGICIAN. Who were they? Say Osric for the Emperor and Brand for the Magician, but the Queen of Cups? Moire? Llewella? Why should they show up in a Tarot reading in the Tir, concerning a mission that never touched Beatha? He had thought he had a good idea who all his enemies were. Damn.

And impersonal opposition from the KNIGHT and the THREE OF SWORDS, though the Three might be specifying the opposition as romantic in nature. What the Hell? Donata had another boyfriend? Hm. Lushaira? Kethos had said she was smitten, but Quinn did not see Kethos as a reliable judge of such matters.

And the PAGE OF SWORDS and the CHARIOT were simply present, involved in some undefined way. Breann? Not a clue.

Despite all that, the indications were that he should proceed. Cancellation would be worse.

But if it was going to be a disaster, Quinn didn’t want Breann on the front lines of it as a favor to him.

He returned to Aretia and told her about the reading. He asked her to prepare a rescue party capable of snatching him, Adril and Elrohir up from the edges of the M of C’s area. She agreed.

Megan dreamed she stood before the Beathan Pattern wearing a nightgown. Sleepwear? It had to be a dream. She felt drawn to IT.

Very drawn. She walked forward. She was Inside, floating with her arms spread wide. Her consciousness spread to encompass the sphere, then expanded outward. She knew every iota of the palace, all the minds of everyone there. Of the palace precinct. Of the city. Of the region. (Not at all like Mom’s description of the Amber Pattern experience.) Expansion stopped as interior ‘pressure’ equaled that of the exterior. Then compressed, keeping everything, down to the original globe and smaller still, into her, all jammed into her head. She passed out from the pain, and fell.

Edward fell, still conscious. He frantically tried to shift to a dense atmosphere, lower gravity and soft ground. Later he would realize he should have picked just one thing at a time.

Something shifted, then he hit a roof, old, shingled and half rotted, burst through, bounced off a thick beam—some ribs broke—through a floor to another that stopped him, barely, and collapsed dropping him a long way to a pile of empty old crates and a dirt floor. Blackness.

Quinn Trumped the three of them and their impressive collection of armor and weaponry through to Deirdre and made the introductions. Adril made his usual smashing impression, Quinn noted sourly.

Quinn enjoyed telling her the story of Breann’s triumph: the Plan, work and study to acquire the sorcerous tools and execution. Adril confirmed Ireneon’s formidable reputation. Deirdre was amazed. Breann did that on her own? Her plan? And proud. And horrified at the risk.

Deirdre questioned Quinn closely to make sure that Osric had no part whatsoever in this plan. Quinn couldn’t resent it; keeping Osric ignorant had been top priority for him as well. They trooped down to the Pattern room. Quinn divested himself of his weaponry and walked the Pattern at optimal speed. Rested. Trumped Adril and Elrohir to him, put on his weaponry. Adril and Elrohir stepped onto the carrying slings and Quinn held them around the waists, facing out in either direction, concentrated on the Master of Ceremonies and wished them there.

Breann Trumped through to Theseus and organized her rescue troop. The sky started to churn, then swirl with thunderclouds. Artanis and Lora came out to view the phenomenon.

The sky went darker and darker, spinning rapidly over the former site of the Pattern. Even Breann could feel the massive amounts of power building up in it. Breann tried a few shifting tricks with no luck. "Where’s Osric?"

A Breann-enlivened discussion followed, concluding with Artanis and Osric attempting some form of defense, Lora keeping a watch for Quinn, Adril and Elrohir, and Breann taking off on her flying horse to find people who needed to die.

From the air on the unhappy Cuculann, Breann saw a wave of Twilight flashes roll across the city, heading towards Theseus’ palace, townspeople in panic and lightning crawling along the bottoms of the clouds. Then a huge lightning stroke of nearly pure Pattern energy hit Theseus’ palace, blasting the wards away and blowing out all the windows, leaving a smoking hole in the roof.

Breann flew back towards the palace and located Magistrates levitating below. Some converged on the palace while others torched houses with spells, coordinating with Mori killing humans on the ground. Breann started shooting down the ones heading for the palace. Their shields were good; it took up to four bullets each to nail them. Or one grenade; the fuses and her timing were good enough to take them out in the air.

Artanis was a glowing pillar of white light. Osric made his position clear by incinerating a bunch of Mori (and everything else in the area) with his wave of fire stunt. Lora was in the fountain throwing out fire spells so fast she had to dunk her arms every few seconds. She’d burned half her clothes off. Breann estimated that only half of the Mori were present.

Quinn, Adril and Elrohir appeared twenty feet before and below the levitating Master of Ceremonies. Adril flicked away via Twilight. Elrohir took a moment to get his bearings and disappeared as well, while shots and screams already marked Adril’s passage. Quinn hosed the M of C from groin to head despite the fact that the man didn’t seem to be doing anything. No shields: the man was extremely dead. Lightning struck Quinn’s chest and right hand gun, throwing him to the ground. His chest was burned, the metal of his armor there red-hot, but the insulation had saved his life and clever materials design had kept the magazine from exploding. The grenades were on the back of his belt.

He rolled and activated his flight spell and took off weaving and jinking at three gees. Nobody shot anything at him after the first seconds. He laid on two of his Shield spells, then brought up the Pattern Lens. Theseus’ palace was a mess, Mori all over the place and the Master had NOT been the one channeling or directing that energy. Adril and Elrohir were fine. Quinn flew around the dissipating clouds and above them, searching. Yes, there were traces, but the bastard had teleported away. Mr. X (Quinn didn’t think it was Brigid) had been carrying such a load of residual power that he Quinn could get a direction. And the Tir had only a few shadows.

Quinn teleported to a shadow in the right area and started shifting shadow to find them, stilling his ‘wake’ as he went.

Breann was running out of mages. She noticed a lot of flashes going off behind Theseus’ palace and swooped over to investigate. It was a trap. There were fourteen sorcerers waiting for her. Breann concentrated desperately on manifesting the Pattern for defense while her hands acted automatically, emptying the gun into the group, then throwing grenades. The power of the Pattern surrounded her but eleven wizards were whole enough to throw lightning. Eight bolts hit. She was blinded by the flashes and the pain, she couldn’t feel Cuculann, she did feel the ground hit, twice. White light. Blackout.

Quinn soon found a huge Pattern source that generated so much interference the Lens was worthless. He went in.

Megan woke with a start. Tadpoles! She had to save the tadpoles! What? She lay back down. It took her three minutes to notice Llewella sitting in the corner.

"Good morning. Did you sleep well? I was going to ask you something yesterday but forgot. What brought you back to Caer Beatha."

Megan groggily considered her options and picked the truth. "We haven’t heard from Random since the separation. I came to check on him."

"Random is just fine where he is. You have to admit this is a nice place. YOU HAVE TO ADMIT THAT."

Megan did feel compelled to agree with everything Llewella said. It didn’t feel like a spell (Fiona had made sure she knew what spells felt like), rather she felt that Llewella knew best. Llewella invited her to breakfast; Megan accepted. She fell asleep again and dreamed. Flashes of evasive memory from the night before.

Megan was ravenous for breakfast and completely surprised when the high table applauded her as she entered. Everyone was friendly, everyone wanted to show her around, to help. Only B???? was sulky.

In mid conversation everything whited out. When she came to her senses everyone was staring at her. She had driven her fork into the table to the base of the tines.

Conversation resumed. In a moment of clarity Megan felt that they were all false and not at all nice. The feeling faded.

On the third try Edward made his voice work. "Have you seen a handsome, rakish fellow with red hair around here?"

Edward checked himself out internally. Ouch. His chest grated with each breath. He concentrated and shifted to his combat form. The kid screamed. Edward might have screamed too. He blacked out.

He awoke in combat form. No more grinding. He shifted back to human form and didn’t pass out. Better still. He could sit up. He noticed that one of his fingers was bent flat to the top of his hand. He reset it.

He woke up and assessed himself. He was in one piece. His face was puffy, his hair all gone from the front of his face. He could see. He still had his Trumps. One knife was broken but he had several more. Bleys did not answer his Trump, though it did grow cool. Edward stood and walked carefully to the door, feeling like he had second degree sunburn and that a bull had kicked him in the groin. A big bull. He focused enough to find money and clothes. He located food and lodging superior only to the lower depths of Utumno. He slept.

Quinn found the Lens useful again and located two men two hundred yards away, over a rise. Power still simmered around them, especially the elder. Quinn knew them. The former Master of Ceremonies that he was accused of assassinating and Carolan, dead Noldor. The Master felt the Lens and began to cast a spell. Carolan flicked away into the shadows. Quinn fired a round into the ground. It worked in this place! He used his only fast teleport to appear behind the Master, the man’s shields forcing him fifteen feet out. Quinn unloaded the machine pistol’s remaining twenty six rounds into the Master’s chest. The Master was blasted off his feet but there was no blood. Quinn activated his Reload spell, catching the drum that had no place to go in his right hand and was knocked sideways by Carolan’s blade taking him in the neck en passant. One shield down, and he couldn’t even see Carolan. He sent his left arm through its trained fire pattern and was rewarded with a "Shit!" and impact sound above him. The Master cursed and did something with magick but Quinn was getting his hung Laser spell off as fast as he could. Just as he ran out of bullets the laser, low power but continuous, kicked in and he did the same pattern right handed. After a while he quit; they were both gone.

Quinn tried to trace them again but ran into a brick wall. Who could help? He hesitated a long time, thinking it through, then Trumped Osric. Osric was carrying Lora, alive but cut and burned, into the palace. He was too exhausted to fight the Master.

Quinn teleported back to the palace. Breann and Lora were badly hurt. Artanis had her left arm in a sling. Theseus had been the focus of the Master’s strike; he had terrible burns on both arms and had lost some fingers. Greyswandir was burnt black and stuck in the ceiling of Theseus’ throneroom.

Act Three, Scene 2: Secrets, Spies, and Dreams

Things in Heaven and Earth, Session 35

You're the Man, I am Not the Man

Things in Heaven and Earth, Session 36

"I don't want to Understand the Universe, I just want to Control it."

"I can kick a rat's ass."

Things in Heaven and Earth, Session 38

"Find me something to Kill..."

Things in Heaven and Earth, Session 39

Things in Heaven and Earth, Session 40

"What game are you playing in?"

Things in Heaven and Earth, Session 40.b

"It's all about me, See?"

Things in Heaven and Earth, Session 41

Things in Heaven and Earth, Session 42

THINGS IN HEAVEN AND EARTH

The Death of Ireneon

THINGS IN HEAVEN AND EARTH LOG-44

THINGS IN HEAVEN AND EARTH LOG-45