Llewella entered, greeting each Amberite with a smile, saying little. She was wearing a gray dress, fine and flattering but also rather plain and modest of cut, with a very fine silver design shot through the fabric and a little silver trim at the throat and cuffs. The crest of Amber was woven into one shoulder. Her hair was done up rather severely, kept in place with a mother-of-pearl comb carved to resemble a dolphin. She wore a pair of silver earrings with blue and lavender stones, respectively, and a silver ring. By her side, but set so as not to draw much attention, was a staff that is shaped like a lightning bolt. It's green, and is capped with a small globe containing an image of a dolphin. She appeared calm, confirming that she did not send the summons when someone asked.

          Benedict stood when she entered the room, and sat down again when she sat. He admired her for a few moments, then turned back to his tea, thinking the situation over quietly.

          Bleys hopped into the room at a brisk pace, bowed to the Ruler, waved to everybody else, but stayed quiet.

          After everyone was assembled, the staff brought in the food. Benedict didn't touch his, he was getting nervous waiting for something to happen. He also didn't like going into battle with a full stomach...and he felt that with this many of the family in the room, something was going to happen.

          He drew out a dagger, his parrying dagger, and kept it on the table. He rested his hand lightly on it, waiting.

          Julian seemed to be the only one not affected by any tension, and he started eating, as normal.

          Just when Benedict was starting to relax a bit, a coating of green energy rose up around the floor, walls, and roof.

          "Hell," was Benedict's only statement, as he rose to stand next to Llewella, ready to get her out the door.

          Bleys pushed his tray aside, his hand dropping down to take hold of his sword.

          Julian watched but does not stop eating.

          The sounds of the outside guards trying to break through was heard, then, and Ben stood right by Llewella. If they couldn't get in, he'd get her out. He started feeling really nervous, since he hadn't had time to prepare against any magickal attempts on anyone's life. I suppose I'll have to depend upon Brand or Fiona if it comes to that, he thought absently.

          Llewella remained standing, looking resigned, and for the most part waiting.

          Bleys stood on the opposite side of Llewella, turning to Fiona quickly. "Sis, can you get us out of here?"

          Fiona tried, but was incapable of finding any way out.

          From seemingly no where, the room suddenly filled with sight and scent blocking black vapors. Benedict instictively put his sleeve over his nose and mouth, and held his breath. If it was magickal, it wouldn't do much good, nor even if it was mundane, depending upon what it was. Still, mustard gas this wasn't, and it didn't seem to be doing any harm. Yet.

          The green energy faded away as suddenly as it appeared.

          The doors burst open and the guards who had been ordered outside filled the room coated in black vapors.

          Benedict uncovered his mouth and shouted in his best commander voice, "Stay OUT!" It was too late...they broke the protocol they had established earlier, that being only if he shouted for their help would they enter. Something must have been dire for them to break it...that or their fear of losing another ruler. Ben couldn't blame them, but there wasn't anything he could do right now either.

          Nothing was audible, save the sound of the guards, each and every one who was outside, dropping like sacks of rocks.

          Just like the green energy, the black vapor vanished as quickly and as without warning as it had formed.

          At the head chair of the Dining Hall, appearing from nowhere, a bound and chained Eric sat. Behind him stood a man with white skin and black shades, dressed in gray and black, bearing the arms of the Royal Family and the honors of a skilled Amberian solider.

          Eric had a vague resigned look as well as one of impatience on his face. His mere presence was enough for Ben to lose his temper, but upon seeing the chains, Ben relaxed again. He looked up instead to the man behind Eric, and thought to himself, So this must be Slade. The description he had heard fit to a 'T'.

          Slade spoke with his fanged teeth in a sick yet warm smile. "Ruler, Prince Bleys, everyone here today. It is good to see you. It is good to be home.."

          Thumping Eric lightly on the back of the head, Slade continued, "Come now Eric, chipper up. Your family looks thrilled to see you again, all safe and sound."

          Julian turned slowly to face the newcomer. "Are you?.." he asked of the stranger, greeting him with a blank face.

          Bleys looked to Eric, "Eric; good to see you. I wasn't expecting you here so soon; Coffee? " and then, as recognition dawned, " Slade. You're early, and you have broken the conditions of our agreement. However, you have delivered my brother, and for that I am grateful. I trust the guards are not dead. Our business is now concluded." Bleys spoke haughtily, and Benedict shook his head inwardly.

          Looking pained as Bleys' harsh words, Slade began anew "You wound me. Of course the guards live...their deaths would have served no purpose, as it would only weaken the staff further in this time of crisis. However, as for our contract, I apologize for that, but I've decided to retire, and am now turning over my last charge to you."

          Llewella's eyebrows shot up at that, and she tilted her head quizzically, eyeing Slade speculatively.

          Benedict ground his teeth, feeling somewhat impotent. Just let everyone else do the talking, that's all. It's Llewella's show, let her run it. Though he was loathe to admit it, it did chafe him...taking orders from her, a younger sister. Still, he knew she had a good head on her shoulders, and so he concentrated on thinking on the best way to take Slade out, if it came to that.

          "Shouldn't squint like that Benedict...it'll make you look old before your time," Slade mocked, though with the shades on, it is tough to tell if he was mocking the squint physically as well. All in all, he seemed to be having a ball, waiting for something or maybe someone. Benedict was not amused.

          A small smirk came to Brand's face, but was gone in an instant. He continued eating and tried to pay no obvious attention to Slade.

          A cough erupted from Eric, who finally decided to answer Slade from earlier. "Slade, I find it hard to smile when chained." His eyes surveyed the family with something approaching fear. His eyes lit on Benedict, and held there for a long moment, before flickering to Llewella. Strangely, the contempt one might normally associate with his looks at Llewella is gone, replaced with fear. As well you should be, Eric, Ben thought to himself.

          "I pity your sex life then Eric." Slade chuckled, patting Eric stiffly on the back.

          Again, another small smirk was seen on Brand's face for a brief instance.

          Llewella met his gaze, and her eyes softened just a bit. "Eric, it is good to see you. Slade, kindly remove those absurd restraints from the person of my brother. They are completely unnecessary."

          "You will forgive me, Slade," Eric said, standing up and the chains fell away. "You are not, I am afraid, my type." He chuckled slightly, then looked around to the family and bowed. "Well met, brothers and sisters." How can he be so calm with his daughter missing? Ben thought to himself, frowning.

          Bleys nodded slightly, "As you say, well met."

          Llewella inclined her head, her mouth quirking just slightly. "Well met, indeed."

          Slade shrugged his shoulders at the freed Eric, picking up on Llewella's 'absurd' comment. "Technically, according to the Code, a man as heavily wanted as Eric here isn't allowed anywhere near you, the Ruler of Amber, without at least this much chain-age...and a set of body guards, but you two pit bulls there seem to have that covered nicely." He nodded to Bleys and Benedict. "However, you are the Ruler."

          Llewella placed one forestalling hand on Benedict's shoulder, the other on Bleys', and stepped forward between them. Her expression hadn't changed, except to grow a trifle cooler.

          When she spoke, her voice was even, and essentially polite; but it had a bit of an edge to it. She's angry, but it was a very low-simmering anger. She noted Slade's accouterments, "Allow me to welcome you Uncle. Everyone, may I introduce Slade, son of Dworkin, purveyor of services great and small, and recently, retriever of misplaced Amberites. As I'm sure you've all noted, what he lacks in the finer points of civilized behavior, he more than makes up for in showmanship."

          Benedict's reaction was great and varied, and shocked. He turned towards Llewella, the expression on his face is one of disbelief, "Uncle???" Then he turned back to look at Slade and Eric, disbelief fading into anger at his sister, and a touch of hurt. When did you find out and why didn't you tell me? Especially after hearing Khara's story about Slade. He swallowed all that down, after the initial shock, intending upon asking her about it later. He had to maintain a level head. Had to.

          "Uncle, had you let me know you were celebrating your retirement at this gathering, I'd have had a gold watch engraved for the occasion. And a cake, perhaps. However, now that you two have had your little joke, perhaps something can be done about its unfortunate side effects?" She gestured to the collapsed guards. Though she's smiling slightly now, it wasn't a particularly warm smile.

          "Thank you no. I've had enough cake and gold to last several lifetimes already. Though I'm surprised you let personal dislike, or whatever it is, cloud your viewing of this matter. There is no joke here, in the presenting of Eric. Eric was freed because you wished it so. I'd much rather have him in something far more elaborate. But I had to put him in something Prince Bleys could figure out how to open...and since technology does not work in Amber, and the Prince has grown lax in his magical studies, I felt lots of chains would work best. As for the guards I apologize, though their wounds are virtually non-existent...their reactions to Eric's presence I could not trust however. Hence the elaborate entrance, to make sure that Eric was safely brought to Bleys. Now that Eric has been returned, I only have one last mission to complete, and my retirement will be complete." A gloved hand was laid upon Eric, A smile crossing Slade's face though Eric looked slightly chilled for a moment.

          Llew watched them both warily. "Your pardon if I have misperceived the situation. However, you must admit, the sequence of events appears somewhat contrived, and I must wonder why you chose this venue and this approach in making your presentation. However, my manners desert me. Please, be seated." She gestured, to extend the invitation to them both.

          "Yes Eric...get away from your father's chair." Slade waved off his own chair though, "Sorry, but Benedict is in the chair I've grown used to, but it's been long enough since I've sat there to hold any claim to it now. And what sequence of Events do you speak of Ruler Llewella? I had to plan out my entrance, for certain, to prevent any of you from getting out, or anyone capable of sensing my powers from doing so...so yes, I had to plan out my entrance into Amber...but you didn't think it all happened through chance did you?"

          Eric kicked the chains away from the chair and sat back in it. "Why? 'Tis not like he'll be using it at this luncheon," Eric said. Eric, you damn bastard... Benedict thought, and opened his mouth to say something. However, Eric barely began to sit when he found himself flying through the air, landing near Bleys.

          Bleys looked down from the lunch he was about to restart, made eye contact with Eric for a moment, then returned to his meal.

          Llewella watched the spectacle, her eyebrows slightly raised, looking mildly irritated.

          "I said get away from your father's chair." The happy go lucky Slade was suddenly lost, though he's drawn no weapon yet.

          Finally getting up, looking at Slade "So you did," Eric said quietly, bringing himself up to his feet and dusting his black suit off. Straightening his crimson tie, he looked rather... subdued. Sort of like a kicked puppy.

          Benedict watched this almost impassively, but nodded when Eric goes flying through the air. He relaxed.

          Slade dusted off his hands, "Now then, we can all be a big happy family again then." Benedict felt a weird tingling across his scalp, as if something rushed by him. He frowned slightly wondering at the sensation, but shoved it aside for later examination. He hated doing that, but it seemed something else always required his attention.

          "I think," Llewella remarked after a moment, "that I find you and your motivations quite unfathomable, Uncle. Eric, you may take that chair to your left," she added sternly.

          Eric assumed the directed chair without remark.

          "Benedict, you have my permission to put him back in chains if he demonstrates such disrespect again. I trust, however, that won't be necessary."

          A single brief glance at Benedict, then to Llewella, then back to Benedict was all the motion Eric makes.

          She re-seated herself. "Let's attempt to finish dinner with some pretense of civility, shall we? Uncle, are you certain you do not care to join us?" She steadfastly ignored the fallen guardsmen scattered around the room.

          An amused look flickered across Eric's face, but no verbal commentary follows; for once. Benedict longed to knock Eric's teeth down his throat, but restrained himself. Smarmy bastard, he thought to himself, but kept silent.

          Slade paused for a moment, to address Llewella. "My motivations? What motivations are you searching for, niece?" Meanwhile Slade tossed the chains to Benedict nonchalantly. "And thank you no, but I ate before I came...my...food is a bit disturbing to look at I'm told. Though Eric took it in stride." Finally Slade sat down in the seat next to Oberon's, far away from the rest of you.

          As the chains fly, Benedict caught them a bit ungainly-like...not because of lack of skill, but because they are chains. Benedict set them on the table, just watching again, letting the regent take the lead.

          "Well, I can't speak for my siblings, but I, for one, would be greatly interested to know why you chose to call us all together today to witness this...exchange. And How fascinating," Llewella said neutrally, "and how very commendable of Eric. Is there anything, then, we can offer you? Wine, perhaps?"

          "I shall pass. I'd rather not find out how sneaky you all are just yet. And I didn't call you all together today for this exchange. I merely took advantage of the calling to deliver Eric. I won't be able to head back to my last base for quite a while now."

          Llew blinked. "I see. Will you be staying on at the castle, then?" Her tone and expression are completely bland as she asked this, but she set her fork down as though she's just lost what little appetite she had, picking up her wineglass instead. "And was it, in fact, your message, or did it come to you as it did to all of us?" Llew shrugged, sipping her own wine again, making it clear she thinks it's his loss. "And as for the wine, As you wish."

          "Staying in the Castle? Hmm...is there spare room for me in the Royal Tower still? And yes, I did send the message...I just did not bring the family together to hand over Eric."

          "I'm sure something suitable can be found, if it is your wish. So, then," Llewella folded her hands before her and asked sweetly, "Is there, in fact, a purpose to this gathering--apart from the excellent food you decline to share?"

          "Excellent to you, I'm sure. The Staff did a wonderful job, as always, judging by the smells. And yes, there is a purpose. I actually came to meet the nieces and nephews denied to me for so long." He really did sound sincere there. "And, since you've already revealed my little secret, I'll keep on with the revealing." Slade paused, taking everyone into his vision before continuing. "I have come to warn you about my brothers."

          Benedict gritted his teeth, but this was mostly for show more than anything else. From the reports he had read, he'd already guessed that there was more than two of Dworkin's sons. Something had been implied in those reports, but was blatantly left out. It all fit, and he nodded mentally. After the first shock, this was nothing.

          Bleys didn't seem to be hearing any of this, in fact, he seemed to be greatly enjoying his meal.

          For the most part Brand has sat quietly, though uncomfortably with his broken arm, eating his dinner.When did he break his arm? Ben wondered to himself, but he moved on to other mental musings after just a brief glance. At the mention of brothers by this Slade character Brand looked up and then turns. He seemed to be shuffling through something. He proceeded to stand and walk a small distance from the table.

          Till now Corwin had sat watching the proceeding with his hands steepled in front of his face, with a barely noticeable smirk on his face. Corwin spoke loudly from behind his hands, "Brothers?"

          Llewella's expression did not change, except, perhaps, to darken by just a shade. "Do go on, Uncle."

          Flora had been silently observing with a kind of fascination. Slade now had her full attention

          "There were only four of us back then. Thousands of years ago we had a...falling out...amongst one another."

          Eric raised an eyebrow at that. His expression as he glanced across the table - at Corwin, then Llewella, and then Benedict - plainly spoke his suspicion that these thirteen, as a whole, did not fall too far from the Tree.

          Slade paused, sniffing the air slightly, as if basked in memories of a different age. "Yes...only four...We were never all together much...Oberon had some bad experiences as a child that messed everything up for us all later. However, we did get together occasionally. Oaths were made, bonds were forged, and then one fateful day, all of that was broken asunder." Another pause, "I'd like to claim innocence in the whole event, but I was just as guilty as the rest...."

          This drew Eric's look, a faint hint of surprise.

          As a longer pause happened this time, Benedict felt uncomfortable for a moment, though he didn't know why, "Oh...sorry about that. Anyway...Oberon and myself, you know of. The Third, second eldest, is marching towards Amber right now, his armies behind him. In fact, he stands outside the Barrier that blocks off Amber from the rest of the Shadows right now."

          Eric's eyes grew wide, and his gaze flickered to the doors. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and he reached down to rub at his wrists, concealed beneath the cuffs of his immaculately pressed white dress shirt.

          "The fourth, the eldest, the blackest, is coming...freed somehow...and when he arrives, everything only gets worse." Now Slade paused, giving everyone an evaluating type look. It felt to Ben that he was still sizing everyone up, and that annoyed him.

          Eric said nothing at all. He reached across the table for the coffeepot, pouring himself a cup, and drinking.

          Bleys took a rather large sip of a nearby wine glass, he then took his napkin and set it aside.

          Bleys looked over to Corwin, "You're well I see. I was worried about you."

          Corwin ignored Bleys. Ben, on the other hand, felt a momentary rush of anger at the manner in which Bleys was treating this...as if it were all flippant and unimportant.

          Llewella stiffened visibly, setting her glass down with an audible *ding* of crystal on hardwood. She rose slowly from her chair, still calm, at least outwardly, and set her hands flat on the table before her. "Uncle. If you've anything more to impart on this matter, please do so now." Her eyes were bright once again with repressed anger, but she waited with determined patience for his reply.

          Julian looked at Slade, absently crunching a bread crust. He then seemed to slowly take interest, as if an idea just dawned on him. And he said, "Could you. Describe, their...Appearance. ...If you please, uncle, sir."

          His words went unheard, or at least, unresponded to.

          Slade straightened his collar for a moment, pointing at Bleys, as a wisp of green energy floated from Slade's finger and wrapped around Bleys' head...he seemed not to notice at all.

          While waiting for Corwin's response, Bleys smiled broadly at no one in particular at some pleasant thought that had occurred to him.

          "Sorry about that Ruler. I detest it when people do things like That. If Bleys wishes to pretend like I'm not here, I've simply made it so he can't hear or see me at all. Now, as for what else I know, I know a lot...so I'll forgo wasting a few years filling your heads with information which is dearly important to me regarding my brothers, but most likely wouldn't interest you all in the least."

          "Simply put, what would you like to know?"

          Llew waved the Bleys issue away for the moment, though she's clearly not happy with either one of them. "Simply put, what can you tell us that would assist us in defending against their assaults? Though I'd prefer to discuss it with Lord Gamellon present." At that Benedict nearly lost his composure completely in a sheer panic, but managed to control it. Doesn't she remember what Khara said about Slade, and the Gamellonians? Breetai's going to flip out when he hears this. The mere thought of that filled Benedict with dread. He did get a bit of satsifaction in that Slade had a similar response.

          "You'd prefer to actually do this with Breetai Present? You're kidding right? Or is the Green Man slipping?" If Slade had wine, he'd most likely had choked on it while Llewella was talking.

          Now she looked really irked. "He *is* Supreme Commander of the Military, and a professional soldier. Of course, his ability to remain composed may be somewhat compromised in your presence, given your history with him, Uncle, but if everything that you say around here will have to be relayed through a third party to get to everyone else," she glanced pointedly in Bleys' direction, "we might as well pack up and leave the castle to your brothers right now! If you truly wish to be of assistance to us, and don't think that I'm ungrateful if you do," and this was delivered with utmost sincerity, "please refrain from doing these things you must surely know are going to amplify existing antagonisms." She now looked around to include everyone assembled in what she says. "Amber needs us all to work together for once--all of us --regardless of our personal animosities. The Empire cannot hope to hold together, if we cannot. But we can--if only we will. It's as simple as that." Her mask of composure has fallen away now, and Llew looked angry, frustrated, perhaps just a little desperate, but totally committed to what she's saying. Ben longed to comfort her, but he was having trouble maintaing his own composure to help her out any.

          Eric's watched Llewella across his coffee cup, a faint shake of his head.

          Slade thought, then spoke in a soft yet demanding tone "Hmmm. Ruler Llewella, please come stand beside me. None of your guard-siblings, just you."

          Benedict straightened at Slade's request and scowled. If he came to us, he reasoned, it's because he wants us to trust him, even if he is the enemy. And if not, he definitely wouldn't do anything to hurt her. All in all, he felt he didn't have a choice in the matter, and that made him scowl even more. He hated feeling that way.

          In a voice not really louder than before, and as such, likely not to be heard for the second time, Julian was speaking again. "...Uncle, sir? If you please. Their names, their appearance... As you know them. Their skills, powers. It's... Urgent. Quite." Benedict barely heard it himself, and only because of the lull in the conversation.

          Without hesitation, Llewella walked away from her place at the table, past Bleys and Eric and anyone else sitting on their side, and came up to Slade. The mask slipped back into place as she goes, and she regards him with a somber expression, waiting.

          Slade rose as she approached, keeping his arms away from his sides, so no drawing of weapons was evident or even hinted at. As she approached, he stared down into her, tossing his sun glasses away, revealing a hauntingly human set of soft gray eyes.

          "Regent Llewella..." He paused, his voice growing stern. "You are Amazing...." As he hugged her tightly, planting a rather...wet...sounding kiss on her cheek. Releasing her quickly, and jumping back, so as to make evident she was not harmed in any way, Slade continued.

          "Now then, the thing with Bleys, sorry, forgotten, and he's freed, look. Breetai, I can put up with Breetai...heck, if he's too much of a bother, just fire him. There's better Supreme Commanders out there anyway. But you, You Llewella. You've got style, and passion. I respect that, and you." Slade paused, as his suit shifted into a set of long robes...."Now then, unless Benedict and Bleys are going to try to kill me, how may I be of service?" As he bowed deeply, falling to one knee.

          Benedict glanced to Julian, then back to the scene with Slade and Llewella, simply watching. We really don't have time for theatrics, he thought acidly.

          Flora quickly glanced about to gauge everyone else's reaction and threw a questioning look at Benedict.

          Benedict spotted Flora's look. He barely shook his head, to say 'No, I don't trust him'.

          While all converse, the energies of a Trump pull was felt, as Caine, dressed in a regal looking yet poorly fitting gown, stood, hand clasped to Brand's own.

          And now Eric's mask of calm dropped, as does his jaw. And the coffee cup. "Um," was his sole reply.

          Caine said, "Brothers." by way of acknowledgement.

          Benedict nodded quickly in Caine's direction, not caring about Caine's attire. Any other day it might have drawn a look, and earned a lecture, but not today.

          Caine sensed everyone looking at him. He says, "I realize this is not an appropriate garment. It belonged to a young lady whose monarchy has just come to a sudden and unfortunate end. We were attacked in the middle of our ... relationship, and I donned that which was at hand. A battle is no place to be unclothed."

          Flora's eyes went wide but she can't say anything as she did her best to hide her mirth and smother any laughter dying to come out behind her hands.

          Llewella, meanwhile, took a couple of hasty steps away from Slade and watched wide-eyed as he dropped to one knee before her. She seemed to be searching for something to say, but turned suddenly, almost jumping out of her shoes at the sound of Julian's voice, just in time to catch sight of Caine. She stared. The most peculiar expression passed over her face, and for a second it seems she's going to laugh, or possibly weep. Almost immediately, however, she pulled herself together, albeit with a visible effort. "That's...very true, Caine. Have a seat, if you would."

          Caine sat, his expression a mask.

          Brand too made his way back to his seat. He shifted around in his seat till his broken arm is resting comfortably on the arm of the chair. He began to finish the rest of his meal.

          She turned back to Slade. "Rise, please, Uncle," gesturing for him to stand. "I thank you for your words; and you may begin by answering Julian's question."

          Slade did so, pausing to look over at Caine as he reached within his robes. He said nothing to or about Caine however, instead looking over towards Julian.

          "I shall do you one better." As two Trumps flew from his fingers, speeding by the family to arrive in front of Julian's soup bowl. "Their trumps, though don't try to contact them. Such results could prove...fatal."

          Benedict glanced over at the Trumps as Slade tossed them over to Julian. One, he already knew what it looked like, so he concentrated on the darker one...the one that must be Primus. What he saw from across the table was black, green and pale skin. He filed that away for the moment, then turned back to watch Slade.

          Julian took the trumps. He hesitated right then; frowning slightly, as if their touch was distasteful to him in some way. But he examined each card thoroughly. "Their names?.." he asked, eventually.

          Flora couldn't help herself with a giggle and a wicked playful look in her eye "Brother, I'm sorry, but those shoes just don't do the dress justice, and the color is all wrong for you! Secondly, the whole thing just doesn't do justice for that hair!"

          "You should shave your head Caine. Bald goes with everything...at least with men's clothing. Now, Ruler, Your task is completed," Slade said pointing to Julian and the Trumps. "What now?"

          Llew squared her shoulders and took a deep breath. "Now," she said, "we prepare ourselves, as best we may, to defend Amber. May the Unicorn preserve us. Uncle, there are some points which need to be clarified. You mentioned a Barrier. Will you elaborate, please?" While Benedict didn't disagree with Llewella, something was bothering him greatly. Dad had given me... he thought to himself, The only question is why?

          While Julian stared at the Trumps...Slade had retaken a seat...in mid air, legs crossed seemingly in the Lotus Position, though it was hard to tell, underneath the robes, which have now changed color to a deep black.

          "Hmmm. It is an old Defense System of the Pattern for Amber. Take the King away, don't clear it with the Security System, and the Pattern just starts acting up. It prevents anyone not of Royal Blood, or at least being taken along by someone of Royal Blood, from passing through any other Shadow into Amber. The Pattern, as I'm sure Dworkin told you all, exists in two places at once. It sits below us, in the Pattern Maze, and it simultaneously exists as a Barrier force, preventing the Void from swallowing us up whole and also so that all of the Shadows do not cave in on one another automatically. You all, as masters of the Pattern, don't see the Energy as you pass through each Barrier, which is why you have probably never noticed, and may have even forgotten Dworkin talking about it...of course, he tends to ramble even more than I do, so he just may not have gotten around to it. Either way, you know now. It's an enhancement by the Pattern to keep itself secure when the Ruler of Amber is missing. Communications, bugs, air borne viruses, millions of angry Huns, Nothing gets in, nothing gets out, unless it's Royalty, or being brought in by Royalty. Unless it travels through the Astral, which is also heavily guarded, thanks to traps set by myself, and a few other residents of Amber." As Slade paused, to wave in several directions, seemingly at no one in particular. "But, anyway...I started rambling again there. Sorry. Did I answer your question properly?" as Slade seemed to stop, rewinding the conversation in his head, though he seemed content to let you answer.

          Llewella, who had been listening intently throughout the monologue, nodded. "Approximately how long have the enemy been parked outside it, and how long might we have before they get through?"

          "They're not quite there yet. They most likely won't reach it before tomorrow morning...and once they do, the Barrier will fall anyway. Once my brother arrives, that is."

          Corwin, still ignoring Bleys, stood and walked towards Slade. The only thing that Benedict could think was, What does he think he's doing now? He checked a sigh, and just watched.

          "Yes Corwin?" Slade asked as Corwin approached.

          Corwin stopped about a foot from Slade, stared him straight in the eye and then made a one handed grab for the front of Slade's clothing.

          "Yes Corwin?" Slade did not attempt to stop the grab and, if anything, looked bored.

          Corwin's voice started low but steadily increases in loudness as he talked. "You. You waited till they were this close to tell us that we are all in danger!" Corwin then got right in his face and literally screamed "WHY?!!!!!!!!"

          Slade pulled his hand from within his robes, and slowly wiped Corwin's spit from his face, but did nothing else.

          Benedict bowed his head slightly, closing his eyes briefly and felt the beginnings of a headache. "Khyron was right," he muttered, loud enough to be heard by everyone present.

          "Corwin. Did you not hear a single word I said just now? Restrain yourself, and sit down," Llewella, still standing within a few paces of the two, did not shout; but her voice, without being the least bit strident, carried throughout the room.

          There was a loud clink, as Julian's fork lightly hit his crystal glass.

          Julian said, "Corwin! ..." Benedict looked over to Julian, kind of amazed that Julian was trying to raise his voice. Then, Julian spoke much more softly, "...Llewella. I would... Support. Uncle's words. If you feel a confirmation was needed." He paused. "There is indeed a small. Army. Of just a few thousands. On its way to here. A day's travel. Well armed... Magic weapons, perhaps." That surprised Benedict even more, and he frowned.

          Eric grimaced at Julian's words.

          A small sigh escaped from Julian, then: "Their leader... He looks... Exactly. Like our father. Except for an eyepatch, over his left eye. He wears black. With red." Benedict blinked, but kept his reactions under as much control as he could. Odin's here? But how? Why? That nagging feeling started bothering him even more. He swore silently, and glanced around, to see how everyone else was taking this.

          A flicker of nerves, and Eric suddenly began to fiddle with his tie. He knows something...he... Benedict thought, struggling to put all the pieces he had together.

          Another pause from Julian. He looked around the table, focusing on Fiona first, then Brand, then Benedict. "I would... Caution you. He is quite strong, and he could... See where I was. He instantly attacked me. He's definitely hostile."

          The effect on Benedict was immediate. He swiveled his head towards Julian, and his composure dropped for a moment...he looked utterly confused. But why would he attack Julian if Dad trusted him? Maybe Dad didn't, but then why did he give me Odin's Trump? Finally sheathing both sword and dagger, he just stared at Julian, then turned towards Slade, then back to Julian, shaking his head. He leand forward on the back of the chair he was standing behind, brooding quietly to himself.

          Corwin released Slade and turned back torwards all of you. "I did not doubt his words, but his motives. This man, whom some of us seem to know a little of, drags us all together, appears at our fathers seat with Eric in chains, and then tell us we are to be attacked!. I Do Not Trust Him!. "

          Corwin continued, "Amber is in turmoil with our father being gone. We all agree that now is a perfect time for an army to attack us, but why are we trusting this person. For all we know he could be our most dangerous enemy since he is already within our home.

          "He has manipulated us so far why not a little farther. This whole thing stinks of treachery."

          Eric rolled his eyes then said, firmly, quietly, in the tone of voice he used back when they were both pre-teen children... "Corey. Shut up."

          "Personally, the only stink I found came from whatever you've been eating recently. Foul." As Slade moved past Corwin, straightening out his robes, they began to shift in color and in form back into the suit. He reached over, picking up the shades, and placed them back on his head.

          "However, we seem to have an issue of trust at hand. So I leave it to you all. If you feel you cannot trust me, I am obviously wasting my time, so I shall take Eric and my chains back with me, and if you like I can even make it so none will remember these past minutes. You can continue in your lives without being "Manipulated" by me any further. And then you can face my brothers, and whatever else is coming your way alone." He had finally reached the back of the chair Eric sat in, placing his hands on Eric's shoulders.

          "So then, what will it be?"

          Bleys stood, dropping his fork. His hand fell to his sword. " Slade, We do not trust you. Trust must be earned. You have done much today to earn our trust, but still we are wary. You must understand that. I would ask you to neither leave nor erase our memories, or take Eric back." Bleys flicked his shoulder back and his cloak falls behind his shoulders.

          "Well spoken, Bleys," Llewella said. With a wry smile, she added, "And please take no offense, Uncle, if we remain somewhat wary. It is a position I believe you do understand--or have you changed your mind about the wine?"

          Slade nodded, making a slight shrug of his shoulders as well.

          Then her smile vanished, and she stepped directly up to Corwin, refusing to be ignored. "We've all known for days that there was danger, though it appears now in a somewhat unexpected form. Why does this come as such a surprise to you, Corwin? No, I am not blind to the possibilities you raise, but neither am I so quick to reject an ally on the basis of might-be. If you doubt Slade's intentions, do not doubt his power. He could have killed you just now with less effort than it took to insult you. If he wanted us dead, he need not have resorted to such an elaborate scheme."

          Slade tapped Eric on his shoulder, giving him a knowing look. Benedict wondered at that briefly, giving those two his attention rather than Llewella and Corwin.

          "And as for what 'some of us' know," she added acidly, "'some of us' have learned many things of necessity since all this began, while 'some' others have been gallivanting around Amber City doing Unicorn-knows-what. Since it is clear you know nothing of this matter, and I have not the time to waste to remedy your ignorance, I say to you for the last time, sit down! And if you have nothing useful to contribute, then by hell, shut up!"

          Slade muttered softly, "Heh...just like her mother."

          Eric looked at Llewella. Perhaps for the first time in his life, he honestly looked at his little sister. And a small, very small smile breaks across his face, and he nodded approvingly. "Well, then," he murmured. Benedict felt the slightest bit of doubt himself, but concerning Eric instead.

          Corwin gave Llewella a withering glance, "As I said, it was expected that an attack might come, but that still doesn't explain Slade. How many in this room know this man. This is the first I have learned of him. Not that I can really find fault in his chaining of Eric, but I truly wish to know how many knew of Slade, or the attacking armies. I'm sorry if I'm vocal sister in my distrust of this man, but can we truly call him ally yet? He may have proven himself to you but not to me."

          "By the time I could 'prove myself' as you put it, to all of you, it would be far too late. If you can't take the word of your Ruler, maybe it is your loyalties, and not mine, that are the ones that need to be questioned." Slade moved away from Eric, instead to stand beside Llewella. Benedict split his attention between Slade and Eric then. He sensed the power play going on between Corey and Llewella, but if she couldn't handle it... Ben shook his head slightly, admitting to himself that Corwin was being more annoying than he usually was today.

          "Uncle, I don't trust you, you claim that two brothers of yours whom we don't know are attacking and you expect us to believe in yet another son of Dworkin that we don't know. I'm sorry if I find this hard to stomach, but if Amber is in danger that I think it is only fair to examine every aspect of that danger. As it is we barely have time to start an adequate defense." Corwin accused, all with good reason. Does he think that none of us have thought that? Benedict thought to himself, frowning, and getting more drawn into the conflict between his siblings.

          "Don't get confused. Julian said Odin readily attacked him. I simply said they were coming. Though I do believe your adopted father would brain you, insulting his armies as you just have. Even on holiday, I'm sure at least half of his troops are still in Amber; more than enough for the few Odin brings, if it comes to that. Primus is a different matter all together." Slade responded.

          "Corwin," Benedict began, against his better judgement, "of course we don't trust him. But we haven't much choice right now." He paused, considering his words, "And you'd do well to understand that you being here, hearing this, is a privilege that Llewella has graciously extended us...she could have sent us away the moment Slade appeared, if she so wished."

          At this, Llewella--who, incidentally, showed no sign of withering thus far--crossed her arms and looked up at Corwin, eyebrows raised, "Is that what you want? And just because you never heard of Dworkin's other sons doesn't mean they don't exist. Father and Grandfather were in the habit of keeping things from us, so I've recently found out." Isn't that the truth? Benedict thought.

          Ben leaned forward slightly, still leaning on the back of his chair, "And as the Regent said, if you can't contribute something useful, stay quiet. We've better things to be talking about rather than your--or our--lack of trust of our Uncle."

          Llew glanced up at Slade, and said calmly, "You know, he's correct. This is a colossal waste of time. Corwin, consider all of us duly informed of your opinion." With that, she turned, gesturing graciously to Slade to accompany her, and walked away from Corwin, back toward the table. "Captain, if he is not back in his chair within fifteen seconds, or continues this unseemly behavior, kindly escort Prince Corwin from the room to a place where he can fume in solitude. Use your discretion. Now." She returned to her seat. "First--Julian, dear," and her entire manner softened noticeably, "are you quite all right?"

          Benedict nodded, straightening up slightly, "As you wish, Regent." He glanced towards Corwin, watching Corey idly. "I've just the place for him too." Benedict watched Corwin impassively, thinking, Doesn't he understand Llew's in charge now? Or is he just jealous? C'mon, Corwin, don't act rashly here..

          As Slade followed Llewella, Ben heard him quiet easily counting

          "15."

          "14."

          "13."

          "12."

          "... "

          Corwin rolled his eyes, "kids!", and with a snap of his fingers, was gone. Benedict blinked, and then frowned, feeling a surge of anger rise in him. He schooled it the best he could, but with his own temper already rising from before, it was damn near uncontrollable. Still, he managed. "Flake," he muttered angrily, loud enough to carry to everyone. He turned towards Slade then, to listen.

          Eric muttered, quietly, "Indeed, Corwin, you still are one."

          A sound issued from Slade's mouth, totally unnatural sounding, like the hissing of a dozen snakes, all at once. "Teleported. Well, he's not back in his seat. Guess he's under arrest." In his hands, though no one remembered him drawing them are a set of hand and a half, black blades, gleaming with dark energy.

          Bleys sighed, " And to think, I sent two of my best men out to find him last night. Worried about him, foolish bastard. "

          Flora looked scared...though doing her best not to show it. She stayed frozen in her seat. "Now that's one fashion accessory he could do without," she muttered while eyeing Slade's sword. Benedict felt some of his anger drain, upon seeing how frightened Flora really was. She doesn't need to be hearing all this, he thought to himself, She should be surrounded by people with light hearts, and laughter, not by us morbid sons-of-bitches. He glanced towards Llewella momentarily, Daughters too.

          Slade reversed the blades so they are pointing towards him. Then seemingly sheathed them into nothing...as they vanish in the blink of an eye. "I felt the teleport, and thought it was an attack, not Corwin running away." Slade was short and simple, with little emotion in his words, as opposed to the hissing a moment before.

          Julian nodded.

          "Very well, then. Uncle, from what you know of this Odin, for what should we be preparing ourselves?" Llewella asked.

          Caine said, "I find this conversation somewhat confusing. I take it that you have tried to locate Dad and failed, just as I did when I tried, and that we are now beset by enemies."

          Benedict looked towards Caine, and summed up, since it seemed no one else was, "Meet your uncle Slade. He's got two other brothers, one of which is marching on Amber with an unknown, but not terribly large, number of troops all well-armed, for an as of yet unknown reason. He's Oberon's twin, and his name is Odin. The other brother is somehow worse than this threat, though we know not how yet, and it was my impression that he was imprisoned somehow, but may be free, or soon be achieving freedom."

          Ben paused, mentally reviewing his words so he didn't misspeak himself, "We don't know why he was imprisoned, though I'm assuming Grandfather did it. If Grandfather did so, he had a good reason. We also don't know why the three brothers weren't in Amber with us, so it's a logical assumption that they weren't welcome here, for unknown reasons." He glanced towards Slade for that, raising a brow in question. Upon getting no response, he continued.

          Ben gestured towards Julian, who had the two Trumps in front of him, "Those are their Trumps, what they look like." He shrugged a touch. "Now, where's Deirdre? At last report, she was with you."

          About this time Brand looked up from his meal and addresses Julian. "May I see those Trumps brother?"

          Julian briefly looked at Slade. He gave a last look at the Primus card, then handed both over to Brand.

          Brand reached for the Trumps. "Thank You Julian."

          Slade answered Llewella finally, cutting off Caine before he could reply to Ben's question, "Knowing the men who will be coming with Odin, I would prepare to face men who know how the troops of Amber fight as well as anyone gathered here today. In fact, one of them was Lord Gamellon's personal student. Best Damn fighter I've ever seen...." Benedict suddenly felt his heart clench, having the sudden insight as to who that was. He knew then, why Eric had told him that, and knew that Eric had held out on them for a long, long time. He was so absorbed in that train of thought, in that final sliding of pieces, that he missed some of what Slade was saying. "...not that old. Once he hits the barrier, he most likely will just march into the City, and expect Title and Ownership of the Empire passed over to him. However, Odin is capable of most anything, so decide how you want to handle him Ruler Llewella, and then I'll advise the best way to bring it about." Slade paused then, allowing the rest of the family to speak.

          For the first time since lunch began, Llewella's surety seemed to falter, and she hesitated. She seemed to be waiting to see what the rest of the family will say.

          "Could... Odin and Primus, be cooperating?.." Julian asked.

          "Anything is possible, though I've heard not even the slightest of rumors of such a co-operation. I find it unlikely." Slade responded.

          Benedict turns to look at Llewella and frowned slightly. He cleared his throat and said in a respectful tone, "If you wish, I could ready the guards against an attack, though it won't do a bit of good if the military isn't ready."

          He was concerned for Llewella, and nudged her as subtely as he could in the next step she should take. With that being said, he focused his mind again on his theories, trying to find holes in them. He couldn't so far...it all seemed to fit.

          She nodded, still seeming subdued, scanning the room as though waiting for something. "I intend to contact Lord Gamellon momentarily. You may coordinate your defense with him."

          Caine launched in with some questions of his own. He said, "When I went sailing towards Dad, I was attacked almost immediately from under the sea by a force of aquatic humanoid beings. Any idea how they relate? And as for Deirdre, " Caine said, "I'm not certain where Deirdre is at the moment." That roused Benedict from his thoughts. Not sure..?

          "The Deep Ones. You were attacked by the same creatures that invade Castle Amber days ago, and who have successfully kidnapped all your recently living mothers," Slade answered, quietly.

          But before anyone can even react to Slade's words, Bleys redirected things back at Llewella. Bleys chewed on something crunchy for a moment, then responded, "This Odin fellow, we don't know his motives. It's most likely a power grab though. Perhaps he could be...turned. Since this 'other' brother seems to be so universally feared, were he alerted to that.. I don't know," Bleys turned to Llewella, "I'm pretty sure we can get through one invasion, if this is only Odin making a grab because he sees us weak and the apparent wielders of power gone...but if this is only the first wave..." Bleys trailed off, and resumed chewing on his celery stick.

          Slade turned his back on everyone for a moment. The sounds of his teeth tearing into something are obviously heard throughout the room.

          "Sorry...needed a snack." He replied as he turned back to the group, and took the seat next to Oberon's chair that he was at earlier. His once white teeth had an obvious purple and red coating on them.

          With the mention of "mothers" Brand looked up from his meal. Now Brand spoke, "So Slade are you saying that these 'Deep Ones' kidnapped all of our mothers"

          Caine said, "Why have they been kidnapped rather than killed? Does he intend to use them as hostages?"

          Eric looked around the table, and sighs. "He wants the throne," Eric said simply. "Odin, I mean. He and I had a plan for it, when he first learned Oberon was missing - " He closed his eyes. "Which was the same time we all did." He looked at Fiona and Bleys. "That was where that Trump contact went," he said, simply. "It has since been severed." With another sigh, Eric reached across the table and snagged the coffee cup from Corwin's place setting, and fills it, awaiting the inevitable. Benedict nodded to himself, and then frowned letting what Eric said sink it. No, that doesn't match up, Eric. You're lying, but I don't think you know you are.

          At this, Llewella shook her head, looking as non-surprised as Benedict, but more sad than angry. Then she returned her gaze to the rest of the room, and the look of vague apprehension returned, up until...

          "Hmmmm." Slade looked at Eric, shaking his head for a moment before turning back to Brand and Caine.

          "Yes, all of your mothers; Clarissa, Moins, Rilga, and Paulette. All four." He then looked directly at Caine "As for why, that I do not know. Nor am I sure why Moins was taken...a double cross in a double cross that one was."

          And Llewella blinked, frowning sharply, whatever had been troubling her forgotten for now. She stared at Slade unblinking for several moments, and when her attention was drawn from him shortly thereafter, it went slowly; clearly, she wanted to know just what he meant by that, but defered to more immediate concerns.

          Caine said, "So this is the assessment? That this 'Odin' is coming here with an army of Deep Ones. Once here he will try to claim the throne. If we deny him, he will attempt to use our father and mothers as bargaining pieces. If we resist, he will attack with his army. I do not see how we can honorably consent to his ascention. Whatever the merits of his original claims, he has forfeited them by his present actions. Therefore, we must prepare to resist him. What are his strengths and weaknesses and how may we nullify the former and employ the latter to his destruction?"

          False logic, Benedict thought, having worked this out in his head. Off-handedly, to Caine, Benedict said, "What are Oberon's strengths and weaknesses? Could you take out Father? Best to prepare for anything we can think of, and then some." He paused a bit, "And where was she when you left her?"

          Caine sighed. "I would prefer that this had remained secret, but since Deirdre may be in danger... I departed Amber shortly before the funeral. I left the castle by secret routes which I am aware of and left behind a double which I obtained from Shadow. If you subsequently saw that double with Deirdre or depart with her somewhere, that may be, but I myself know not where she is or what she is doing."

          Caine paused for a minute, as Benedict soaked in the meaning of Caine's words. "If you recall, Dad had just gone missing and we were all under house arrest. I found this situation suspicious. I did not like it. And I felt it was more important to find Dad than to attend a ceremony for a Sister who was dead and would not know the difference anyway. I suspected at the time that Dad's disappearance may have been engineered by some party near the throne, and I did not know whom I could trust. So I left to ensure that at least one of us remained free to act and to raise an army in case it might be needed."

          "I walked in Shadow, obtained me a fleet through the agency of Queen Isabel, who was the mariners' queen, and went in search of Dad. I did not find him, the Deep Ones destroyed Isabel's fleet, and I barely escaped through the Trump."

          "So I don't know where Deirdre is. You may have my apology for having deceived you, if this means ought to you."

          "Hah...such skill, such deception, I like your style Caine. As for Odin however, he would never use Deep Ones. He hates them almost as much as Oberon does. Nor is he the type of man who would kidnap women and use them as hostages. That's more up your father's alley. And if he'd kidnapped Oberon, he wouldn't have waited this long to arrive. He would have taken his place immediately. A switch...something I would imagine he and Eric cooked up together also. An 'if all else fails scheme' right boss?" As Slade stared at Eric, his voice quite dry and irritated sounding.

          Eric coughed, slightly, and glanceed towards Slade with a faintly guilty look on his face.

          "Then whose are the Deep Ones?" asked Caine. "This Primus person? What are his motives?"

          Benedict, for his part, had swiveled towards Caine. His face was starting to get red, and his jaw was clenched. He couldn't even put words together in his head, much less say them; he was pissed.

          Slade retorted quickly, before Benedict exploded at Caine. "Primus is...the first son of Dworkin. He predates the Pattern, just as Dworkin and the Unicorn do. He was the greatest of us...full of love, of joy, and of power. Through out taint, through mine and Odin's and Oberon's taint, we corrupted him, and he learned the meaning of pride...it was used to twist him, to turn him against us. In the end, we were forced to Imprison him, to save us all. Dworkin sealed the Gate, and I know not who has opened it. As for what he wants? To destroy Dworkin and everything Dworkin has ever created. Including us all. And then, once that is accomplished, he will destroy himself, and nothing will be left, to mark the Life of Dworkin, except ashes." Slade bowed his head, the joy in his voice gone, as he looks terribly saddened, and for the first time on record, ashamed.

          As Slade spoke, Benedict shuffles out Deirdre's Trump...instead of chewing out Caine, which Ben desparately wanted to do at the moment. He muttered, "Likely won't do any good; she's probably got her Trump block up."

          He concentrated on Deirdre's Trump, giving the focus to his rage momentarily. It helped ease it somewhat, and made it easier for him to think a bit again. Benedict scowled and put his Trumps away when there was no answer. He took a moment to compose himself and then addressed Caine as calmly as he could, "Caine. Did Dee know she was traveling with a double?" The whole thing about this is that he really wasn't mad at Caine. Irritated, sure, but angry? No...Ben was mad at himself. He was too trusting, too naive still, when it came to family. I guess it's true what they say, he thought, hurt and angry, you really can't trust anyone.

          Caine said, "I do not know. All of this happened after I departed. Frankly, I only intended the double to sow confusion and delay any search long enough for me to escape. I didn't expect it too fool you all and go traipsing off to goodness knows where with Deirdre in tow. I suppose I overestimated your capabilities."

          He paused, "I imbued it with some of my own thoughts and memories. To make it more life-like. I suppose that it could still be operating on my motives at the time - to escape into shadow and seek out Dad. Fascinating."

          Llewella muttered something under her breath and Caine's ridiculous dress was instantaneously replaced with a spiffy suit of emerald and green satin, complete with black-plumed hat. Llew nodded once as though satisfied, and her attention returned to the discussions at hand.

          At this very moment, Julian looked up and said to Brand, "You're welcome. Brother."

          Brand glanced up from the trumps and just looked at Julian for a brief second. He had this weird look on his face for a minute and then glanced back at the trumps.

          Then Julian blinked twice, stood up, and started to actually talk faster. Benedict was about to open his mouth to rake Caine over the coals, but Julian's competent way of talking stopped Ben cold in his tracks. He sat there as Julian was talking, almost dumbfounded.

          "I suppose I must share your worry about all our missing relatives...Yet I believe that we should act -- well, at this point, react... Quickly." There was a little pause here. "Unity is important, true, but I believe we should put the many mutual incomprehension that plague us... Aside...for the moment. Odin will reach Amber in one day, but by the time he's here, we will be facing not his thousands, but our hundreds of thousands...I can easily picture him saying -- to every soldier and noble and peasant and shadow he meets on his way here: 'Join me in my triumphal march to reclaim my throne from my sons!.. Led by the upstart Llewella, they killed my father and managed to wound my eye.... But now I am back and with your help, things will be right again...' or something equally to that effect...He's exactly like Oberon, it's no magic trick, he has the power and the knowledge -- part of it acquired from Eric, I guess... Nobody knows Oberon had a twin. Why should they doubt him?.. Because of his new taste in colors? Who would you believe? Your ruler from time immemorable, whom you obeyed for centuries, all your life, or his teenager son telling you he's really an evil twin?.. Or a mysterious saber-toothed uncle, for that matter..."

          Julian stopped, looking at Slade. "No offense meant, uncle, sir... I'm sure you're really a good and sociable person... Inside."

          He continued. "Why, if he hadn't ordered his men to shoot me, I know I would have believed Odin, and helped him... As long as he acted the part decently.. Even against you all... So I say if Odin plays his cards right, three quarters of the Amber army will defect to his side in the middle of battle. Perhaps there will be no battle at all." There was a longer pause here. "We have to decide how we will meet him. If we welcome him as an ally against Primus... He does not strike me as one which will prove any easier to dispose of than our father. He certainly has the means to reach the people and the army, perhaps even the nobles. He will rule Amber, whether we like it or not... As long as our father and grandfather are missing, which as I'm sure you all realize... And fear... Could mean forever." Another pause ensued. Just when Benedict thought Julian was done, his brother continued onward.

          "As a further option, you could pretend you believe he is really Oberon. I'm the only one whom he knows found him out... Pretend Slade and me never spoke with you, either trust or silence Eric... I would trust him, again, until he gets it right... Then smile and cross your fingers. Though if I were in Odin, I wouldn't lower my guard... Much. And hang all possible traitors.

          "But if we are to fight him, I think it should be done now... While we still can... With the handful we can find that we are totally sure won't falter in seeing him. We cannot assume he will make errors. Which means every second is too precious to waste..." Julian watched Benedict, as if seeking his approval. Ben could only nod at this point, and he did so.

          Julian sighed. He pressed his fingers over his eyes. "I think we will end up voting on this..." He looked wearily at Llewella. "Yes... Won't mean much, I know... But I would want you to know who agrees and who does not. And yet. It might help. Especially now we seem to have a tangible threat to unite against... And a bigger one around the corner."

          Llewella's expression at that moment suggested that, on the contrary, it will mean a great deal indeed--at least to her.

          With a respectful voice, Julian addressed Slade now. "Uncle, sir. I believe before we talk further, you ought to tell us whatever you three did... To Primus... In the past. I wish... I could understand all my uncles... You and Odin and him... I would... We would, perhaps... Hear of the roots of such rivalry. Ambition. And hatred... So we can consciously take action, seeing a wider picture... Instead of being bounced around by this wild sequence... Of events. And so we can... Avoid... Ending like you four."

          With this, Julian lowered his gaze -- which seems to lose focus a bit -- and ended the longest speech of his life. It didn't seem that he was going to talk further now. He sat down, and began eating his way through the second course.

          It was fair to say that everyone seemed stunned at Julian's speech. Benedict, at the end of it, had nearly forgotten everything he was going to say to Caine…and upon the lengthy break given by Julian, he reconsidered, and shelved those thoughts for later.

          "So who sent the Deep Ones to kidnap our mothers." Brand stated loudly

          Slade ignored Brand and then rose, standing, so as to be able to address all gathered in the room.

          "I shall attempt to be brief...but when covering almost twenty thousand years of history, even brief can take some time."

          Slade paused, pulling a small flask from within his suit, taking a drink of whatever unidentifiable contents are within, and then put the flask back in his suit.

          "I will not speak on the beginning, since I was the last of the four to join the family. I was...I was young when I first met Primus, though it was not in a way most brothers meet. I was not born in Amber, nor did I walk the Pattern when I was a child. The Shattering, the dark power that Eric and I know so well and some of you seem to fear, was all I knew as a child. It was dark, it was evil, it was destructive. And it was all I knew. I was, by the time I'd turned three hundred, the perfect assassin. My reflexes were lightning fast, as was my intellect. Best of all, I had no soul. I cared not whether they lived or died...though I was an artist. Each death was a work of art, beautiful for all save the target to behold. Simpler, yet far sicker days, those days were." He paused for a moment, to push his shades down slightly and to rub his thin eyebrows. "In those early days, I was not an independent like I have been for most of my life. I had a Master, a cruel and evil creature who ruled a variety of shadows. He came to me, with an offer. A difficult hit, one very likely to mean my own end. As a reward, if I was successful, he offered me an entire shadow." Another pause ensued as Slade shook his had sadly. "Not to rule, mind you....I didn't have the skills of a ruler back then. No, I was offered the shadow, to kill it. One person at a time. The shadow had rebelled, betrayed my Master, and he offered it to me as the ultimate gift. I was full of pride then, and I had completed every kill set out for me. I was....excited....very excited....by both the challenge of the target, and the reward to follow. And so I began my traps.

          "As you all have guessed, I was hired to kill my own brother Primus, though I knew not who he was then. I prepared a variety of traps for him, to wear him down over the course of the day, so that at midnight, I could attack him, and complete the hit. Everything was perfectly planned. The stray arrow, filled with poison, the beautiful woman with the drugged drink, the swarms of bugs loosed in his residence each containing a different fatal disease. By the time the two of us should have faced off, Primus would have been near death, and I would have completed my job.

          "Even the best laid plans....Primus dodged it all. Every woman, every arrow, every bug, every thing I sent at him, to weaken him. Nothing touched him. By the time midnight came, he was as strong and as capable as he was at daybreak. I should have called it off, then and there. But, I had my record, and the prize, and my own damned pride, fueling me on. So, I attacked. My weapons charged with energy, so sharp the air around them was set ablaze as it was severed. My assault was beautiful. He shouldn't have stood a chance, unarmed as he was.

          "And I couldn't touch him....I'd never seen anything like it then, and I've seen few like it even now. With his bare hands he deflected every blow, or dodged them with speed beyond even my own. Towards the end, he caught my blade.. Caught Them...each between two fingers...and snapped them like they were pencils. And then I stopped. Not by choice....he just stopped me. My brain, my heart, every little part of my body just stopped.

          "When I next 'awoke' I was in Amber, for the first time in my life, and I was standing before Dworkin, facing judgement. Realizing who I was as soon as he saw me, Dworkin sealed the room, confirmed who I was, and announced that all was to be forgotten.

          "Of course, I was shocked and terrified, to ever face Primus again...but he never spoke about it again. The fact that I'd spent hours trying to kill him bothered him not at all. I would say he forgave me, but I don't think he ever blamed me for it....that was the kind of man Primus was.

          "And then, as I've hinted at, it happened. He was changed.

          "Odin and Oberon never had a happy childhood together. Not for long anyway. An incident occurred, that forever ruined any chance of that. Years later, they faced one another, in a duel, in the main Gladiators Arena of the time. The Fight lasted for...well, for days. The entire government just shut down, as everyone watched the two brothers try to prove who was the better, once and for all.

          "To his eternal shame, Oberon lost that day. Odin, wrapped in his anger and rage, went for a killing blow.

          "Now, Primus had always been the ultimate big brother. He had stuck his neck out for us all more times than I care to remember. He was that way with anyone...I've often felt that the sense of what is or isn't right House Karm is so famous for, is a pale reflection of Primus's own inner sense. He could do no wrong, literally. It always worked out, in the end.

          "Primus was...perfect...until the duel.

          "I don't know why it happened, but I suspect the concept of brother versus brother is what did it. Anyways, Odin was prepared to make the killing Blow. Odin laughed, as he brought the blade up, and speared it downward, towards Oberon's own right eye...

          "The blade never found its intended mark. Having moved from his spot high in the bleachers, to the center of the massive battlefield, and seizing the blade mere millimeters from Oberon's right eye, there stood Primus. Odin was not moving slow, but still Primus had cleared over four hundred yards in the time Odin had moved his arm two feet. Odin jumped back, filled with rage, aiming to strike down Primus as well. Primus caught Odin's blade in between two of his fingers, much the way he had caught my own, and jerked Odin forward by pulling on the blade, and with the other hand slamming into Odin's face. The blow launched Odin fifteen rows deep into the crowd, where he laid, unconscious...Primus then walked off the field, and was not seen in Amber till many seasons had passed. " Slade paused again for a second, rubbing on his eyebrows yet again.

          "For the first time ever, Primus knew anger. He knew rage. He was furious at Odin and Oberon for what they had done...it was a new emotion to him. He didn't handle it well. When he returned, where once had been only joy towards Primus, both Odin and Oberon treated him coldly. They knew his was stronger than either, much stronger, and it ate at them like a cancer. Primus himself realized the same was true, and inside his heart, he grew to enjoy his superiority. Though he never let on. We all might have seen it, but outwardly he displayed other emotions. Though he had never displayed affection for us before, he had always just done what was right, and treated us well. This changed when he returned. He was kind to us, warm to us, and he showed love. He found a woman, and he married. It was the happiest day in the kingdom ever. And so his bouts of rage and destruction were ignored.

          "Centuries later, my own part in his falling came to pass. Primus, to all still a rock, had become hard and not fair, cruel and not just. He came to me, asking to learn of the powers that I used. I told him no, once, twice, and a third time he took me by the throat, threatening to tear it out if I did not show him.

          "I knew what he was capable of...and so...I caved. I showed him. Later, I taught him, and eventually guided him through the same rituals Eric and I have taken.

          "What we did not know, did not learn till much later, was that Primus had been manipulated. He was pure, untouchable, by the forces that have always opposed Dworkin. The sparks of anger were flamed, and twisted, by those forces. They took his emotions...things he did not fully understand...and used them against him. Our own petty desires to prove our greatness against one another eventually brought Primus down to our level...which only set him up to be taken even deeper. After completing the rituals, Primus and I were assaulted...by those same forces. The forces I had once called Master, and that I would later still call partner, rose up and struck me down. The last I saw, before darkness took me, was Primus and my former Master standing side by side, laughing at me. It is an image that haunts me, even today.

          "I was played for a fool, and had given up my secret to both Primus and to the dark creature I'd served. They used that knowledge, of the Shattering, to spread it through Shadow, creating more and more Masters of it.

          "Primus himself was not seen again, for centuries. When he came, he came to war...the battle was long, and bloody, and almost destroyed us all. There was no love left in his eyes...no balance. But even still, we couldn't bring ourselves to destroy him. And so we labored, and found a way to imprison him forever. It was done, though at a terrible price...." and at this, hidden behind his shades, a lone tear rolls down Slade's face, as he paused for a moment. "And so he was locked away, and now that he is freed, I don't know if he can ever be imprisoned again." Slade hung his head low, lost in thought.

          Benedict mused silently over this, feeling an extreme dislike for Slade. His uncle made his skin crawl, and his hand twitched, wanting to scratch his wounds. Ben shook that away and tried to isolate the important things Slade said…but it all came down to one thing: Primus hated Amber-and anyone associated with it-and was trying to destroy it.

          Eric frowned over his coffee cup. "Well, then," he said, simply, eyes resting on Llewella, "We have our father missing, one Uncle at the gates and another loosed from millennia-old imprisonment... and the fourth sitting here in our drawing-room. We have a sister missing, one - no, sorry, two immature brothers vanished, and an empire soon to be turned against us if we do not do something quickly." He leaned back in his seat and straightened his tie. With mock cheerfulness, he said, "What else could go wrong?" And then, suddenly somber, "And what shall we do about what already has?"

          Bleys had been quietly sitting at his seat. Sometime during while Julian was speaking, he took out his Trump deck and started shuffling through it. About the time Eric finished, Bleys half-heartedly pulled out De's Trump. After a moment, he sighed and continued shuffling through his deck.

          Llewella glanced in Eric's direction and nodded, acknowledging what he has said, but then looked at Slade. "Thank you, Uncle," she said quietly, her tone gentler than any she has used toward him yet. "What, indeed." She stood slowly and looks around at each of the others in turn. "Enough of explanations and conjecture. What is it to be? I, too, wish to know your opinions on this matter." Her gaze fell first on Benedict. She waited her expression unreadable, even serene. Benedict felt acutely uncomfortable, and started to puzzle out what to advise her. What can I say? he thought to himself, That I think everyone's overreacting about Odin? That I think both Slade and Eric should be put to death? He shook his head very briefly, trying to clear it.

          He couldn't answer her now. He didn't have enough time, or information, to form an opinion on the matter. "Ask for mine later, Regent. I want more time to think things through before giving out ideas." He paused then added, "I do know that you should get the military ready, first thing, and that you should get Random, Deirdre and Corwin back here. Not only might Random and Dee have more information for you--might--but if they were to be captured, they'd be great leverage to use against you."

          "What's to say? There's a very old, very angry clone of Oberon who is bent on committing a coup d'tat. I think he's got to be stopped. I think he needs to be stopped before he makes a bad situation that much worse. ",Bleys shrugged, as if he's stating the obvious. Once he's done talking, he flicked through his deck one more time, and slipped it into some pocket of his jeans. Ben blessed him silently for giving a distraction, so he could have more time to put his thoughts together.

          Slade straightened his head, eyeing Bleys. "A minor point. Odin was born first, so if anyone is the 'clone' it is Oberon."

          Bleys shrugged, " Mom always told me it was distasteful to discuss biology at the dinner table. "

          Slade smiled an ugly smile, as he sniffed the air once again. "Then we obviously had very different mothers. Though similar in at least one way."

          Eric raised his eyebrows and smiled a small smile at the repartee.

          Flora gave a small sigh, her smile gone. Her mood seemed to have gone very somber--nothing like her usual cheerful self. "I'll be the first to admit that this whole thing has me rather shaken and yes, I've tried to avoid this whole mess until now, hoping it would fix itself and that Dad and Granddad would somehow return. I don't like where this is going and I'm sure that's a shared sentiment. Llewella, if it means anything to you coming out of me, I'm behind you, whatever you decide. Anything I can do. For once, I really don't know what else to say." For once, she appeared totally flabbergasted. She meekly pushed her remaining lunch away from her and sat back in her seat, trying to search Llewella's face.

          Caine adjusted his new hat, before turning to Slade. "What does Odin hope to gain by seizing the throne at this time? If Primus has his way, the throne of Amber itself will shortly cease to exist. Does Odin believe he can defeat Primus? Or is he ignorant of Primus' release?"

          "Odin hopes to gain power of course. I am not Odin however, and I do not know what he knows, regarding Primus. I do know that Odin has a great many children, all of whom have never had the chance to walk the Pattern. That is a central thought in Odin's mind, to increase his power by putting his sons and daughters and grandsons and granddaughters and so on on the Pattern."

          Benedict grunted here, scratching his jaw, "Hope he's prepared them, much as he's able to." He frowned momentarily as memories of his own walk surfaced. He shook his head to clear it--he didn't need those bad memories at the top of his mind.

          After a moment's more of consideration, he looked at Eric, and asked, "Eric, where did you see Finndo or Osric? And which was it, or both?"

          Eric looked up from his coffee, and sighed heavily. "Finndo. Or, to give him his more proper title, Lord Finndo of Asgard, sworn to Odin," he said simply and calmly enough. "He is probably with the hosts of Odin that even now are preparing to march on Kolvir. Rather a good swordsman... if it had not been for a few little tricks I knew, he probably would have killed me. As it was, he still beat me bloody and disarmed me." Eric grimaced at the memory of it, and Benedict felt his hate for Eric rising again. Let you live is what you mean, he thought, not without a certain amount of venom. From what he had heard, he was now approaching Finndo's skill with a blade...and that was before Finndo left Amber.

          "He rather hates me," Eric added, almost as an afterthought.

          "He's not the only one," Benedict muttered under his breath.

          Bleys looked puzzled, and looked around the table, " Finndo? We have more siblings?" Bleys paused at that and rubbed his temples gently.

          Eric eyed Bleys for a moment, and nodded. "Indeed, we do, Bleys." He said no more. Benedict felt another rush of anger with jealousy mixed in. Not yours, he thought to himself, as he tried to control what he was feeling.

          "Who then is this "Osric" person you mentioned along with "Finndo" a while ago, Ben? Another "lost" sibling? How many more of them are there that any of you know about, who might be aligned with Odin or Primus?" Fiona asked.

          Benedict grunted noncommittally to this, thankful that other intrusions came before he was expected to answer.

          "Well, discoveries of lost family is always so much fun....but mayhaps you all would prefer to discuss it After you've answered your Ruler's request for your opinions. Eric, since you know Odin better than any of your present half siblings, why don't you go next." Slade cut into the conversation smoothly, no doubt trying to prove his worth to Llewella.

          Eric eyes flickered towards Slade with a hint of annoyance. "Indeed." With a small shrug, he began. "Odin wants the throne. He wants vengeance on Oberon. We are obstacles, unless we ally with him. He has a rather impressive army, and possesses considerable personal strength. As to what to do about him..." He shrugged. "We have a few options. We can meet him on the battlefield; we can meet him in the negotiating table; we can refuse to meet him at all and let him stew; or we can send an assassin to kill him before he got here." He finished with a wave of his hand.

          Slade only pursed his lips, saying nothing more.

          After Eric's babbling, Julian said, "I would..." He paused. "I'm not. The one to ask. Really. But if you do... I would...

          "I would like to negotiate... So much. But Odin had the means to talk... And he chose not to. And... I doubt we can trick him. He's our father's equal. He won't be fooled. He could use our lies... Against us.

          "So I say we stop him... Now. Away from Amber. Where the Pattern can. Make, a big difference. I would not trust. Our military... Too much. Or at all. He knows we have numbers. If he's coming here, he's counting on them. Somehow. Meanwhile. We should guard... The Patterns, too. In case this invasion... Is meant to distract us." Benedict frowned here for a moment at the mention of the Pattern again. Once again, he wondered what Father and Grandfather told everyone before the two disappeared.

          "It will come to a fight. I think. Hopefully, he is... Underestimating us. If not, we have... No chance."

          Julian resumed his meal.

          Slade coughed lightly, butting in at the end of Julian's next round of talking. "I'm not quite sure what Julian means, as far as having a way to contact you all. Aside from connections to myself and Eric...with Eric's connection being a very recent ont...he should have no such way. Unless Julian has been meeting with Odin as well, in secret."

          Julian said, very softly: "A way to contact us. As in. Writing a letter. Sending an envoy. Before moving in with an army."

          Caine said, "I may have a solution to the problem of our military's unrealiability. I could produce a duplicate of Dad in the same manner I produced one of myself. It would certainly not fool Odin. But it could probably fool our officers and men."

          Brand finally looked up from the Trumps. He paused a moment and then looked toward Fiona. "Do you wish to see these sis?"

          "Yes, by all means. Thank you, dear," Fiona replied, and shared the Trumps with Bleys. Bleys leaned over to have a look.

          Benedict shook his head, wondering what they were teaching in schools these days. "It wouldn't work, Caine." He paused, then added, "There's too many things about Dad we don't know that your duplicate would need to know in order to fool them."

          He looked at Llewella for a moment, then says, "I really don't think Odin's here to harm Amber, or us even." He glanced to Julian, then back to Llewella, "I think that he attacked Julian because there was no way for him to know that Julian was his nephew, and it's best to be safe than sorry." He frowned a bit more, "I think he's here because he knows Oberon is gone, somehow, and he wants to know why."

          One more slight pause, as he furrowed his brow in thought. He added after the pause, "No. I believe Slade was right in wanting his children to walk the Pattern, but overall, his being here isn't necessarily detrimental to our goals. What remains to be seen is how we'll react to him, not the other way around. What his reception will be in Amber will determine his attitude." Another brief pause. When he spoke again, it was with a touch of reluctance in his voice, "I've reason to believe that Oberon still trusted Odin, at least as far as Amber goes. But I could be wrong...which is why I didn't want to mention it in the first place." He looked 'round to the rest of the family, "Safest bet is to ready the military, make a strong show of it. Send an envoy, and a contingent of your best military men for an escort, to talk with our Uncle. Find out his intentions for sure. Wave it under the banner of peace...as a meeting of equals. And Julian was right--this needs to be done before he reaches Amber." With that, Benedict shifted restlessly on his feet, his broken toes aching horribly, fell silent. There, you have it, he thought, and hoped no one would probe it too deeply.

          Slade listened to Ben's words, sipping once again from his flask, and replacing it within his suit once again, being sure to cut over anyone's words before they can say anything. His voice was even dryer than usual...an after effect of whatever he's drinking most likely. "A few points of interest. First, Odin and Oberon are identical twins, both of them being two of the Strongest Minds in all Reality. I assume you all are familiar with the psychic link that many 'shadow twins' share. Imagine how powerful it is for the two of them. A definite huge part of the problems the two have with each other...but also how Odin knew when Oberon was gone. It's also good to know the Benedict here is a sharp thinker. Finndo will be proud. However, you made one error in your planning." Slade paused for a moment, before continuing.

          "How would you all talk to a baby who had just mastered the use of it's vocal cords, forming its first words? A few here might talk to it as an equal, and attempt to converse with the baby as you would anyone your own age. Most of you, I would surmise, would not. Now, think how Someone like Odin, who has lived for nearly twenty thousand years, and has been a Master of the Pattern for almost as long, is going to react to a pack of teenagers and twentysomethingers coming to him as Equals? Odin is a proud man, with even more pride than Oberon. It would not go well. I know Fiona and others have held off offering you advice, Ruler, but I am going to step in now anyway. You must be careful in how you approach Odin, and I would advise doing it while looking at yourself and making sure you couldn't be perceived as doing something childish. Being emotional, being stubborn, being rude, or being demanding...all are things adults usually detest in children, and few detest it more than Dworkin's sons...especially Odin. I would advise to stay calm...to not get sharp with him, nor to let him fluster you, or throw you off your mental balance. If you outmuscle him, you will come off as weak, relying on your men to fight your battles for you. Making a battle in the first place will very likely hurt your position in his eyes as well. I would also advise you to be cunning. You must outwit Odin. Only then will you be able to approach him as an equal." Slade paused, chuckling to himself. "Of course, you have to figure out how to outwit him first."

          "Exactly, Uncle Slade. That's what I've been thinking about while listening to you all. My final advice will depend upon the answers to the questions I'm going to ask, but my real concern is this: Ben, I know you know a great deal about combat, but my belief is that if we make a "strong show" against Odin, we'll find ourselves exhausted militarily, psychically, whatever, and still having Primus, who's stronger, to deal with." Benedict bristled at the insult, but kept his outward reaction to a minimum.

          "Julian, you said Odin "attacked you". I presume you mean psychically. Can you tell us anything about his methods? Do you think that several of us working together could attack him and occupy him, while others captured or killed him physically?" Benedict ground his teeth together, wondering if anyone ever listened to him.

          Julian shook his head absently.

          "Uncle Slade, do you think that some of us could strengthen the Pattern barrier psychically, and prevent Odin's or Primus' entry into the Realm entirely? And, can you tell us anything about their magical weaponry?"

          Benedict lost what was left of his patience. Fiona wasn't his favorite person at the moment, and listening to her wore on his nerves. He stood up straighter, instead of leaning. An irritated look came over his face, and he moved one hand over the other, quickly, before turning to Llewella. "This is going nowhere. I've other duties to attend to, so if I may have your leave, Regent, I'll make better use of my time." He paused, and added, "You can inform me of what preparations I'll need to make after a decision has been reached. If a decision is reached." He couldn't keep the derision out of his voice, and his hand started shaking. If he didn't get out of here soon, he was going to snap. He knew it, and hoped Llewella saw it as well.

          He stood there, almost at military attention, waiting for her leave to go.

          The look he got from Llewella for an instant was one of astonished betrayal. Then it was replaced with an iciness that rivaled her frozen statue in the gardens. "No," she said flatly, and returned her attention to the discussion at hand. Benedict stood there stiffly for a momenet, seething. Finally, he leaned back on his chair again, stepping hard on his injured foot. Anything to distract him from his anger was welcome at that point.

          "Thank you again, Uncle, and thank all of you for your assistance and your patience. Those of you who wish to do so may join me in the larger meeting hall on this floor. I'll be meeting there with Lord Gamellon and his advisors very shortly. Benedict," she scarcely glanced at him, "see to your guardsmen and then meet us there." The emphasis on patience wasn't lost on Benedict. Not at all, but there wasn't anything he could do about it.

          Benedict nodded and grunted his acknowledgement. As she turned to leave, he took Llewella's elbow for a moment, and murmured in her ear, "Remember what Khara said about Slade. Breetai's not going to like it much that he's here and related to us." He hesistated for a moment, wanting to say more, but he didn't know what to say. He released her elbow and stepped away again.

          Llewella nodded to his words, and walked away and out as soon as he released her.

          Flora's eyes went wide for an instant and she averted them back to her lap. She took a brief moment, collected herself, glanced about the table, muttered an almost inaudible "Excuse me." She shoved her chair back and stood.

          "Brothers, Sister, Uncle," she gave a polite nod of her head with a small smile and without hurry, she followed Llewella out.

          Benedict, in the meanwhile, nudged a nearby guard with his uninjured foot rather roughly. The guard didn't budge. He knelt down and tried to shake the guard away...and the guard didn't budge. Frowning, he straightened and went to the kitchens quickly, seeing everyone unconscious there as well. He stormed out of the kitchens, through the dining room, and into the hall. Not a one person awake. Cursing under his breath, he returned to the dining room, to confront Slade.

          "Slade..." he started, practically growling. He heard the malice in his own voice and stopped there. Calm down...calm...you need a level head, idiot...calm down... After taking a few moments to cool down as much as he could, he addressed Slade again.

          "Slade," Ben said in a much more reasonable and level voice, "whatever you did to the castle staff, please undo it now."

          Eric leaned back slightly in his chair, steepling his fingers. "Indeed, Slade," he said dryly. "Very hard to run a castle when everyone's on their backs, now isn't it?"

          "Amazing Eric, you finally got one of you feet out of your mouth so you can talk. Won't be long though before it's back in there, I'd imagine." The words were filled with acid, and the naked threat was there for all to see. "As for your demand, Captain Benedict, I'd love to have obliged it...if it had been a request instead...but it matters not how you phrased it, since it was neither my doing, nor is it within my ability to undo. In other words, go bark at some one else." Benedict's face flushed with anger. He could feel himself calming down alright...but not in the way he had envisioned. Benedict could practically see himself skewering Slade.

          Caine said, "Excuse me, but how wide a phenomenon is this general unconsciousness? Do we still have an army and a navy?"

          "Uncle Slade...or anyone else for that matter. What's this about managing things so we can get near the Pattern? Excuse me, but I've been--out of it--for a while. Please tell me, what's wrong with the Pattern?" Fiona asked, with genuine alarm.

          Slade turned away from Benedict to address Fiona, "That's....my fault. I was conned by one of my former employers, given a way that would allow me to walk the Pattern, even though I'm filled to the brim with the Shattering." Slade seemed to be taking the admission hard...at least, he was portraying it thusly. Benedict kept quiet. "Between my walking of it, and Oberon and Dworkin's departing from it, and because of what I covered myself in, to be able to walk it....

          "The Pattern has been rendered unstable and rather violent. I believe that is why your brother Gerard is now quite mad, and why Bleys should still have an aching back from his attempts to enter the room. And like the staff, the Pattern is something I have not the power to fix." Slade grunted, and wiped his lip where he bit himself.

          There was a moment's pause, then Bleys put away a Trump, straightened his cloak, and stood. "Well, then, I'll go check on those guard then, eh?" Bleys bowed, then made his exit hastily. Benedict mentally rolled his eyes.

          Eric sagged in his chair, the mask of calm cracked. "The..." He blinked, once, then again. He looked terribly, horribly guilty, as if he had destroyed the Pattern himself. A small, quiet moan escaped his lips.

          Caine carefully averted his gaze from Eric, adjusted his new hat, and followed the others out.

          Benedict waited as patiently as he could. When it seemed no one else was going to exit, he readdressed what Slade said earlier, "What do you mean it's not your doing?" He couldn't help the frustration leaking out, though he was striving as hard as he could to keep a level voice.

          "I mean I did not do it. The guards, the staff, lying like a pack of hibernating bears. I did not do it." Slade responded.

          Benedict closed his eyes for a few moments, and leaned heavily on his left side for a few minutes. Pain flared in his foot, as he reproached himself for not keeping a level head. He was tired, and wanted nothing more at that moment than to get a decent night's sleep. He opened his eyes again, fixing them upon Slade. "Do you know who did?" he asked, "Especially since it coincided with your's and Eric's arrival here?"

          "Of course I do. I still can't undo it however." Slade took another sip of his flask.

          Benedict ground his teeth together as he listened to Slade's response. Patience, patience...the bastard is testing you. He then asked, painfully polite, "Would you tell us what you know about the type of power that did this then, and who was behind it?"

          "It was someone very close to you all in a way none of you realize, who did it. Other than that, I can say nothing about it."

          Benedict closed his eyes again, and pressed a hand to his forehead. He was getting a headache, and his anger wasn't helping it at all. Be calm, he thought to himself, Be calm. You are a pond of still water. The wind disturbs the pond only momentarily...still water....still water... It was an effort to re-open his eyes.

          He asked next, in a very clipped and controlled voice, "Then perhaps you'd best go meet with Llewella in the meeting hall proper." He paused, waiting for any retorts or comments from anyone.

          Slade turned to face Benedict, stroking his cheek with his index finger, humming slightly. "Well Eric, it sounds as if the good Captain, like Bleys, shall be running off to do other thing, leaving us alone with the Ruler. How...Odd...especially with the staff in their current condition." Benedict almost saw red; the inference that he was being derelict in his duties was almost too much. Slade launched to his feet quickly, spinning to Eric. "Well then, I suppose we had best be off, since Fiona dear seems to have gotten herself distracted with a Trump call. Quite rude of her, wouldn't you say...to just up and do that. Ah well, can't be helped I suppose. Brand, I'll be taking those Trumps back from you and your sister now." Slade then offered his hand out, to take them back. He turned to Eric. "Well then, shall we?"

          Eric looked at Slade coldly. "You go on ahead, Slade. I need to make a stop in my room. I've a few things to pick up," he says simply, and with that pushed back his chair, gave Benedict the faintest of nods - the only one of the family he acknowledges in departing - and was off towards the staircases.

          "Sorry, Uncle," Fiona said seriously. "I did hear you, and I didn't mean to be rude. Not at all. I was simply resolving happily an ancient old family problem, quickly. Thank you for your honesty--and your courage, Uncle Slade. Of course I'm concerned for the Pattern, but I also regret it has been so difficult for you." Benedict gave her the barest of glances, feeling that sting almost as much as Llewella's anger. I come to her for advice, and get bitched out. An uncle we never knew of before--one who freely admits to helping yet another uncle go insane with hate--shows up, and she's supportive. Figures.

          "And by all means, here are the Trumps. They both look most formidable," Fiona concluded, handing the Trumps to Slade.

          "Yes yes. Thank you Fiona," he said he gave Fiona one of those 'talk to me about ancient family problems in a few thousand years' looks. "I'd best keep an eye on Eric. he'll get himself killed more likely than not. Tell Llewella we'll be joining her later." Slade stepped out of the room.

          Benedict watched Slade's back as his uncle left. He could almost imagine--almost--a dagger betwixt his uncle's shoulderblades. A more pressing need wrenched him from the pleasant thought--Random. Random needed to get back here...then he'd work getting Deirdre back. Ben took out his Trump deck and shuffled through, until he found Random's Trump. He lifted it and concentrated.

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