[Writer's Note: Some of the segue-ways into other parts of people's conversations (especially between Lucy, Carl, and Art) may sound a bit stiff and weird. Also, things might not be in order which people remember them. This is Lucy's point of view, and she probably doesn't remember them the same as everyone else. That's my official excuse, anyway. Also, I know that several other large portions of text are not present here even though they were happening within this thread. Lucy wasn't paying attention to them. That's why she doesn't know Wolfie's name and calls him 'the big blonde bruiser' instead of Wolfie: she wasn't paying attention. Several characters are left out because of that. I know she was introduced to Royce, at some point, but I misplaced that, so that segueway might be a bit weird too. Anyway, enjoy.

Second thing, this is long. It took up seventy pages of typed single-space text with a space inbetween paragraphs. Only read this if you've some time on your hands.]

So, there I was. I was in a place where I didn’t know what I was doing, and probably making a horrid mess of whatever political situation I was finding myself stuck in. That may not make a lot of sense, but I was in Ygg, doing some sort of political thing for Haven. Ambassador or somewhat, I think. I volunteered because I wanted to help out Ygg, but I was thinking, well, in a more practical sense after the Ygg attacks. I was thinking, you know, doctoring or somewhat. However, since I’m the blood of Amber, I got stuck with a ‘post suitable to my position’, whatever that means.

Anyway, there was a bit of a party there thrown by some chap that I didn’t know. I mean, he must have been important, because I got the feeling that he was using his country to help Ygg, which I thought was rather nice. So, he threw this party for everyone there, or rather, for everyone who was someone so that we could all get to know each other.

Smashing idea. I was sort of down in the dumps though. I felt really ineffectual at this political thing. It was very much not my specialty.

Well, I showed up at this thing. It was held in a big pavilion, red and white stripes, like a bit fat rectangular barber shop pole. It was dreadfully cheery, with lanterns hung everywhere and a band playing somewhere in the tent. I ducked inside, and saw a wonderful display of food. Self, I thought, that’s what I need. I need calories. Food always made everything better. So, I loaded up a plate and sat down, intent on eating away…well, eating away my bad mood, I guess. Comfort food is a wonderful thing. The people serving the food seemed a bit taken aback by how much I took, because they assured me that it’d still be there when I was done with my first helping. I may look small, well smallish, but I can really pack it away when I’ve a mind to.

I was well into my food-fest, when I saw a chap sit down across from me. He was blond, tall, and good looking, at least I thought. I’d always favored a tall man, er, but then, it’s not that terribly hard to be taller than I either. His eyes seemed very green and warm, if a little uncertain. He was also wearing a uniform; the same sort of dark blue and black uniform the soldiers around here were wearing. His had the nametag of ‘Leichter’ on it, and that name rang a bell somewhere in my head. “Um…. mind if I sit down?” he asked, blushing. Blessed be, he was also holding two chocolate shakes. Mmmm. Chocolate.

“Hmm? Oh,” I said, swallowing what I was chewing hurriedly. “Um, go ahead. Er, I mean, I don’t mind.”

Very intelligent. Bravo, Lucy.

He made himself comfortable, and snagged a napkin from the table. Without further ado, he handed it to me, still blushing, “Missed a spot.” Embarrassing, if I must say. Of course, next time I sit down to do a food-pity-party for myself, I will choose to do it alone. Rather bad taste doing it in front of who knows how many strangers.

“Thanks,” I replied, taking the napkin.

As I wiped off my cheeks and chin, he said, “I don’t believe I know…whose group are you with?”

I finished wiping off my hands, and set the napkin aside. Offering a hand to him, I said, “Lucretia LeMarchand. From Haven, I guess. I mean, I’m not really from there, but I’m doing a favor for them. Er, well, not yet.” Great, babbling. Wonderful impression I was making. “Uh, I’m with Sean and Nimue, really, I think.”

He took my hand and bent over it, as if to kiss it. I was flabbergasted! I mean, the last time a gent did that, he proposed to me! Well, he didn’t actually kiss it, but he almost did, but then he starting blushing again, dropping my hand (nearly in my mound of mashed potatoes too) when Nimue spoke up from behind me.

“You are,” she said, affirming that I was indeed with Sean and her.

I started blushing too, embarrassed but pleased all the same. “Been a while since someone did that,” I said, trying not to think of how ghastly long ago it was, “Thank you.” The gent turned an even deeper shade of red—if that was even possible—as I turned and pointed to Nimue.

“Her, Nimue,” I said, trying to avert attention to Nimue rather than myself. “I’m with.”

“Hullo, Lucy!” Nimue exclaimed happily. She had that sort of sense that she was happy she knew someone here to her. I didn’t blame her. I think this was her first real position outside of Haven, but I don’t pay much attention to all that rubbish, so I could easily be wrong. “Oh, pardon me,” she said after a moment, “I didn’t mean to interrupt anything.”

I smiled at her, “Hello, Nimue.” Glancing over to the blond fellow, I turned back to Nimue and shrugged. “You can sit, if you want. Not many people I know here—as in one now—so I’m better there’s not many people you know here. So…have a seat. Solidarity and all that.” My smile widened and I gestured vaguely around the table.

Er, rather, I gestured on the other side of me—across the table—and that was where the blond guy was sitting. He turned another shade of crimson. Fascinating to watch.

“Oh!” I exclaimed, hoping to avert any neon shades. I patted the seat next to me instead, which Nimue filled in record time.

“As long as I’m not interrupting anything,” she said, suddenly seeming shy. I looked around, wondering what she would be interrupting. Alas, my effort to avoid the poor man blushing himself into oblivion failed—he seemed to get an even deeper shade of red than before.

“No, not really,” I replied slowly. “He, erm, just sat down.” I shrugged, “And he already interrupted me eating, so that’s ok.” Wait. That sounded bad. I probably should have been interrupted eating thousands of calories like that. I turned back to him again, “I mean, not that you interrupted me. Well, you did, but that’s ok.” I glanced down at my plate and back to him again, “I probably shouldn’t eat so much. I’ll be as fat as those old farts’ heads.” Rotten Ian, sticking me in this position anyhow.

Still, the food was good though. I took another couple of bites. Sigh. Contradictory day for Lucy today, I guess.

He matched my gaze while I was snarking down the last bit of a biscuit, then he looked to Nimue and matched her gaze. “Uh…no…um…you’re not,” he stammered out, staring at her for a bit. Didn’t blame him. She’s a right lovely looking young lady, though some people seemed put off by her eyes. Mismatched you know, one brown and one blue. Didn’t phase me at all, but then some people are rather bizarre.

"Oh, I didn't see you there at first, I just noticed Lucy...erm...Lucretia..." Nimue said, starting to grow red in the cheeks as well. What, was this chap’s blushes contagious? "We're working together at the Haven Embassy. I'm sorry, where are my manners? My name is Nimue."

He put the other shake in front of Nimue, and then stood up. “Carl… Leichter. With some of the relief and aid troops from Inverness.” He offered his hand to Nimue, who shook his hand, then to me. I shook it. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name?” he asked Nimue. His blush was almost gone too.

“Nimue,” she replied, looking shy again, “So most of these must be your troops. You brought them here to help the effort against these unnamed attackers on Tabitha?”

I frowned in thought, thinking that I heard of this chap before. I couldn’t imagine where though, so I shook my head, “Well, it’s nice to know that someone else is here to help, I guess… Gosh, I think your name sounds familiar to me, from somewhere.” Ah, a few more bites wouldn’t put on too many pounds…

Carl shrugged. "Probably. I'm both friends of a lot of people, and on the top ten of several other's lists, and probably sworn at, about, and because of quite a bit too."

“I’m sure,” I replied slowly. “I believe I have it written down somewhere, er, who mentioned it. I’m pretty meticulous about stuff like that, but, you know, didn’t bring the library with me.” I shrugged back at him, “I’m sure it’s not important who told me your name, but rather nice to know that someone I know knows you.” I mentally reviewed that quickly—didn’t sound too wonky, did it? “I’m sure it was dropped in a good way too. I’m sure that if there were any choice vulgarities associated with your name, I’d remember them.”

“Trust me,” Carl replied, blushing again, “I’ve been called a lot worse than doofus.”

“Oh, so have I,” I said, frowning at him again. How could he blush so much? I don’t think I ever met anyone quite like him.

He started looking down at himself, as if I was staring at him. Oh, wait, I was. “Did I miss my lip or does it have legs?” he asked, still looking himself over.

“Huh?” I asked, blinking at him. Took me a bit to figure what he was talking about; when I did I replied, “Oh, no, nothing like that. I was just wondering why you blush so much. Women make you uncomfortable?”

Of course, he blushed again. I think I could go on and on about his blushing. I mean, every other sentence in this log could be ‘Carl blushed’. Still, I felt somewhat sorry for him, since he looked like he didn’t want to, but just did. “It’s just…my curse,” he said finally. “It gets better, honest it does.”

“Curse?” Nimue asked, looking askance at him. “Did the Katzenjammer kids have anything to do with that?”

“..no,” Carl mumbled, looking ferociously embarrassed. “…just the way I am…”

"It's your curse that you blush or that women make you uncomfortable?" I asked, looking for a clarification.

"...ah...yes..." Carl said in a small voice.

I smiled, trying to ease his embarrassment. It didn’t work—he got even darker.

Nimue smiled at him as well. “Don’t worry about it,” she said, “I think it’s sweet. It’s loads better than being leered at like you’re on the menu.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” I replied. “I’m rather used to being leered at.” What woman isn’t? “It’s quite another to be blushed at. After all, you can slap someone who leers. What’s a woman supposed to do here? Blush back?” I shrugged my shoulders, smiling still. It was easy to smile around these two. I felt loads better than I did when I came in here. It was nice to be around people who were…uncertain too. Who were trying to make a connection. I felt rather good, actually. Of course, that may have been the chocolate talking.

Poor Carl. Listening to the both of us set his face varying in color. “Um…” he said after the blush was a bit under control, “fall swooning at my feet and bite on any lame pickup line I can think of?” Crimson flooded his cheeks again as he delivered that with a monotone.

I laughed; I couldn’t help it. I just had this vision of women throwing themselves at his feet and him fainting because all the blood was being used for his blushes. “Um,” I said, trying to keep that image out of my mind, “I haven’t swooned for years, but if you could supply one of those lame pickup lines, I’ll give it the old college try.” Nimue joined me shortly in laughter; both of us sounding like a couple of giggling schoolgirls talking about a boy. Well, in a way we were, I suppose.

Carl looked back and forth between the two of us, looking intimidated by our feminine laughter. He swallowed heavily and cleared his throat, “Uh… you have very pretty eyes,” he offered. “…nice sweater…” He swallowed hard, blush running rampant, “…can I get you another shake…” He sounded…well, sweet, I guess. Nimue hit that one on the head.

I smiled at him, even though I had hardly touched the shake in front of me. “I’d like that,” I said, starting to feel a blush creeping up my neck.

After a second of smiling like an idiot, I realized he was speaking to Nimue. I really blushed then—god, how awful! There’s nothing worse than making a fool of yourself, I mean, really! When Carl asked me after the fact what kind I wanted, I mumbled chocolate—again, but chocolate is good for you.

“As for eating, go right ahead,” he continued on, talking to the both of us. “That’s what it’s there for, and a good meal never hurt anyone.” His gaze wandered from the both of us. “I will have to excuse myself for a moment—I see someone I know, and I should go say hi, after he gets his fourths, I think…” I followed his glance and saw a bigger looking guy—also someone I didn’t know. Gah, he showed up with wolves too. At least it wasn’t cats—cats not only make me sneeze, but most of them would rather scratch me than let me pet them.

"Right-o," I said, still mumbling. "Thanks for the shake." Jeez, I felt like a teenager again. No…no…what do they call them…? Uh, preteen. That’s it. I felt like a ruddy eighth grader again.

“They’re good, homemade type ice cream and lots of chocolate..” Carl continued on. At least he was recovering. “If you’ll excuse me for a second..”

He headed off, and I turned back to my plate again. Nimue and I sat there for a while, in a comfortable silence. Nice guy, I thought to myself. Bit overmuch on the blushing though.

“Whurg!” Nimue suddenly exclaimed. I looked up in some alarm, just in time to hear a voice say smugly, “…not a Jeddi…” Nimue looked rather embarrassed, and I couldn’t blame her. Glad I wasn’t sitting there, to have a wolf sniff a rather…uh…intimate place.

Carl returned at that time with the shakes. I swear he looked almost smug at Nimue’s discomfort, but I’m sure he meant it in a nice way. It was kinda funny. He set down a chocolate one for me, a strawberry for Nimue, and a chocolate for himself. Mmm… chocolate.

“I’m sorry,” Nimue apologized, focusing again on Carl.

“It’s ok,” he assured her. “Those wolves have cold noses. I got flipped from unconscious to mouth full of sand one afternoon. I was sawing logs on a hammock near the beach and one came by and got me near the back of my swimsuit.” He blushed again, of course, but it was sorta cute.

She smiled at him. “I hope I never have to share that sort of experience. It’s something I’ll have to bear in mind… Do you like the outdoors then?” she asked, changing the subject.

“At times I like being a beach bum,” he admitted. “Then I get tired of sand in my suit, wise up, and slog back to civilization and a good hot shower.” He smiled at her, “Yourself?”

"I'm used to well-manicured lawns, ordered gardens and a spot of cricket on lazy summer afternoons with sandwiches, lemonade and tea.," Nimue replied softly. "I've been groomed for my job with Haven's Foreign Office. Very few people would realize I'm one of Peggy's daughters."

Carl raised an eyebrow. "I'd've never guessed." He paused. "I still think I can remember the rules to cricket if I bend a few brain cells. That was a long time ago."

Nimue smiled with polite indulgence. "Cricket is almost more for watching than playing. Matches can take days.

"Ah, but then you could go hoist a few with a clear conscience at the pub..." Carl grinned.

Nimue laughed. "Most of the men hoist DURING if they're not playing," she replied.

"That's the only way it's bearable to play...and that's the only way the rules and game make sense." Carl replied with a smile and a touch of color at his cheeks. Oh, this was just too cute, the both of them. Always nice when people make a connection, I think. Doesn’t happen that often, so it is a moment to be treasured.

"Oh, I agree!" Nimue laughed. "Personally I can't make head nor tails of it. I just clap when they make runs or bowl well. It was always more interesting to talk to people than keep track of the game!" She seemed full of good-humor as she glanced at me. I shrugged, keeping quiet. The shake really was good, though I was starting to feel full at that point.

"Have you ever watched Cricket then?"

Carl shook his head no. "I've played a few times but that was a long time ago."

“ I used to be part of the girl's hockey team...although I was never Captain," she said. "That was a bit of a brutal game."

Carl just shook his head

“Did you have any thoughts on how to help rebuild Ygg?” Nimue asked curiously. I must admit, it was a good question. I was curious too, so leaned forward to listen more closely. “Or did you mean simply the bricks and mortar side of the equation?” Uh, that must have been a reference from earlier that I missed somewhere.

“I hold a ministry post in the cabinet here, so I will be doing what I’m supposed to there…working with the rest of the cabinet on putting things back together…and coordinating with the rest of the Kings and Creators that have sent troops and aid here to put everything back together, both the physical and the economy,” he replied, seemingly all with one breath.

“I beg your pardon,” Nimue replied, “I wasn’t aware you were a Ygg Minister. Would it be rude if I asked which one? You see, this is my first trip here, and I don’t know much about the local area or government.”

"Not rude at all. Nobody relieved me of my post so, I'm Minister of Science and Magic." Carl shrugged slightly. "Long story, my job was to catalog shadows for trade and defense....level of magic, of technology, what works there and what doesn't. Plus keep herd on what passed through here and was allowed to stay."

Wow, would that have been a dream job or what!?! “Really?” I asked, unable to contain my excitement at the thought of that, “Wow, that’d be fun.”

"Depends on what you call fun." Carl said gently. "It's a lot of paperwork. I didn't really get to go visiting all the shadows, that was specially trained teams. I mostly got to decorate an office and nearly got vented once for my efforts." He shrugged. "Now, being on a mapping team might have been fun...and dangerous." He wasn’t kidding about that either, but that didn’t faze me. I’d been doing that for decades before I knew what I was doing.

Then, I sneezed. Multiple times. Drat. Damn wolves. Stupid animal dander. I pulled out a handkerchief, and wiped my nose. Eeeuu. “Sorry about that,” I muttered, kind of ashamed. You’d think I’d be able to get over this stupid allergy by now..

"Bless you," Carl said automatically. "Uh, it's probably the rib sauce that's getting you, that stuff will cure what ails you."

"Thank you," I replied. "It's not that. Pet dander."

"Your pet, or the wolves?" Carl glanced over to where the wolves were congregating.

"Wolf dander, then," I agreed. "Nothing against animals, and I really doubt I have any actual allergy, er, at least a physical one, but," I tapped my temple, "psychological still enough to make me sneeze. I don't know why." I shrugged, almost sneezing again. Didn’t again, thank goodness.

"Sneezing at them or around them will cause you to be accused of dealing with or such with Jeddi. So blame it on the pepper," Carl advised, with a straight face. I blinked.

"What?" I asked, trying to keep the incredulousness out of my voice and failing. "You're kidding right? That's just...just... ludicrous."

"I'm not and it happens," Carl replied, serious as a heart attack.

"Oh, jeez," I muttered. This was not going to be good. Haven’s full of wolves too, but I could mostly avoid them. But if Ygg was going to be full of wolves…I just couldn’t escape the dratted animals. I sighed, "Well, if it does come to that, then I suppose I can get out of this 'job'." I shrugged. He couldn’t be totally serious about that. He just nodded, as if expecting no more or nor less from me. Well, hard to take things on face value.

"That sounds fascinating," Nimue said in an encouraging voice, changing the subject. I could have blessed her. "I haven't really traveled around very much yet. I'm pretty newly graduated from college. Is it a big catalogue then? Which one did you find most interesting?" She smiled again, lighting up completely. Wish I had that brilliant of a smile. Of course, maybe that smile was brilliant as compared to the rest of her reserved manner. Something to think about anyway. Maybe I should try being coy? Wasn’t very good at it; tend to start blathering on when I get nervous, or interested in something. Talking a lot wasn’t really a way to be coy or reserved. Hmm. Worth some thought anyway, if I continued a political career.

Carl took a hand and held it out over the floor, showing about 5 feet (about 1.5 m) for the thickness of the book. "As for most interesting, what I would find interesting you might find most boring. These days I have my own backyard to chase, so the office staff...until the recent events anyway...took it over."

"You'd never know until you try me," Nimue laughed. "And now you have me curious. Are you ever going to get back to it, do you think?"

"A little too much on the plate now. The staff here will keep at it though," Carl replied. "So, just minted and chucked out into the world. Like the job?"

Nimue smiled. "I don't know. What I find most interesting about it you might find most boring," she teased lightly. "I'll have to see how it goes. So far the Foreign Office post promises to be a bit of a challenge, and I like challenges. I like solving problems and thinking that I'm helping people," she said glancing at me. Cued conversations—gotta like that.

I nodded, "That's why I'm here. Though I didn't volunteer for this in particular." I shrugged. I had volunteered to be, well, medical staff. I wanted to be a doctor, to administer to people in need. Kelric put me in politics, with Ian saying that I could do a lot more good this way. I was still very dubious about that, but I suppose they knew what they’re talking about.

"Kelric moves in mysterious ways," Nimue joked haphazardly.

"None of us really did, I think.... volunteer," Carl nodded at that. "I need to recruit you before you wise up and learn better." Carl went on to say, not entirely joking. "The re-furbishment group I keep for when things get paved over like here could use you. However I bet I can't pry you loose with C-4 so..." he sighed.

"Funny," Nimue said with another bright smile. "That's the second job offer I've had to get away from the Foreign Office. However, my uncle has put me in this position with high hopes for what I can do for Haven...and I wouldn't like to disappoint him." She glanced down awkwardly for a moment, not liking having to disappoint Carl. I looked back and forth between the two of them.

"I would be most interested in hearing your ideas though. Part of the reason I'm assigned here is to help Ygg stabilize and rebuild in the wake of what's gone on here," she said, changing the subject. She glanced at me again, and I shrugged.

“Ditto,” I said, between slurps. “Or something like that. Not really sure.”

“Ah, but why talk shop tonight?” Carl asked, shrugging with me. “I came to get away from people yammering at me about this and that and stuffing folders full of stuff in my face. Tomorrow perhaps if you want to talk business we can get together?”

I sighed quietly. All the good ones are taken; just not with me. Happens that way a lot. I think I talk too much—although, admittedly, I hadn’t talked a lot this evening…and I did load up on the food. Gah, I looked at my plate and grimaced. Bad, bad. Ah, well, it’s not like I came here looking for anything in particular, I decided. Just enjoy good food, good company, and, er, ok music.

Carl excused himself again, leaving us two ladies to our own devices. We both seemed rather quiet, thoughtful even. Least I was, don’t know about Nimue. It wasn’t long before she excused herself as well, to go get some food. She came back, though, bearing a plate of food. I compared her plate and mine—hers was definitely more of a more feminine nature, with neat little piles of stuff, all carefully cordoned off.

I was slightly bored, if you can’t tell.

No sooner than Carl came back and sat down, he was off again. Must be busy being a host. This reminded me a bit of university parties from way back when, though it was quieter at those.

Again, he came back and sat down. Man’s milkshake was melting. However, just when he got situated…_again_…then another blond gent came over to the table, in a sort of a wandering way. He was very handsome, long curling blonde hair, wearing a gray military uniform, with all the bells and whistles. However, I got the impression that he knew that he was handsome too.

“Hello,” he said to Carl, with a melodious voice. “I’m Laszlo, lately assigned to the Amber Embassy here. I assume you are the host?” Uh oh. Someone Important. I paid a little closer attention to him while he was shaking hands with Carl.

“Chief procurer of the clambake, yes,” Carl told the other blonde fellow. I glanced around then…I was blonde, and so was Nimue. Both of the guys were blond as well. Glancing over some of the other guests, there were people there of other hair denominations, probably meaning different branches of the family, or hired henchmen at least. Still, it was an odd coincidence. Wonder what the statistical probability of having all blond family members here was? “Carl,” Carl said, breaking my train of thought. “with the Inverness support and relief forces.” He gestured towards our table, “These two ladies are also here for various reasons.

“Nimue from the Haven Foreign Embassy,” Carl said to Laszlo by way of introductions, “and Lucretia from Haven too.” There was a slight pause as Nimue acknowledged Laszlo. Then it was my turn. So, I turned my head up to the gent, and gave him a smile, offering him my hand to shake. “Lucretia LeMarchand,” I told him, a bit late since Carl already introduced me.

He bent over and kissed my hand. Not gonna blush…not gonna… I told myself, but my smile widened. Hard not to when there’s a handsome man doing that sort of thing. “Twice in one night,” I said, thinking Well, almost twice anyway.. “I think that’s a record.”

“Pleased to meet you, Lady LeMarchand,” he said formally. “Laszlo Nagy-Barimen of Amber, at your service.”

I dropped my hand back to the table after he kissed it. “Call me Lucy,” I told him. “And I’m not officially a Lady.” At least, I haven’t been recognized by any powers that be as far as I knew. No one ever gave me a title, though I suppose I inherited the one of Princess, hard as that is to believe.

Laszlo gave me a curious look, “Not officially Lady? Do you need a certificate or somesuch?” Well, yes I thought to myself. “In my book presence and bearing are qualifications enough. Though I will call you Lucy, since you asked so nicely.” He followed that with an expansive grin, flashing those pearly whites once more. This one is a ladies’ man, that’s for sure. Or, at least he thinks he is.

“Shall we save you a seat after you snag some lunch?” our host asked of the new guest, thus saving me from any further embarrassment.

“Please do,” Laszlo responded, flashing his smile again. “Back in a mo’.”

It didn’t take him long to load up at all, because he didn’t take all that much. It was kinda like Nimue’s—all nicely arranged—but more coordinated. If I didn’t know better from that smile he was flashing around at us girls here, I’d say he was a poufta.

“May I?” he asked, indicating a vacant chair.

I glanced around, since no one else was doing anything. “Er, please, do have a seat here. Plenty of room.”

“Thank you,” the dashing gent replied, making himself comfortable on Carl’s side of the bench.

Carl eyed him for a second, then waggled an elbow vaguely in Laszlo’s direction. “You lefties or rightie?”

Laszlo gave Carl a most peculiar look, “If you’re talking about handedness, neither and both. I’m ambidextrous.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if most of the Royal family is,” I observed, hitting my shake again.

“In the cozy confines of a picnic table it is so important to get all the elbows going the same way, especially when there’s food involved,” Carl replies. “As for the lot of us, depends on how long you’ve been kicking around, I should think.”

"My, you do have an eye for detail," Laszlo noted. "Ever met Dame Margot?"

"No, I don't believe I have had the pleasure," Carl began. "In the connotation...is she better or worse than Queen Jasra?"

"I've never met Queen Jasra," Laszlo replied.

"Don't," Carl commented, taking a drink of his shake.

"Lucky you," Nimue muttered into her straw. I lifted my brow at that, glancing from Carl to Nimue. I haven’t met Queen Jasra yet, though I heard a lot about her. Can’t be all that bad.

"Oh, not the most popular monarch in creation, then?" Laszlo inquired.

"Two things to save your hide with her and one for the rest of the ensemble," Carl began. "She likes rubies, in red gold, the bigger the better. Shadow's great for that, go shopping first if you know she might be there. Then mind your P's and Q's and no tattoos or piercings showing, stand up straight, etc. Drop the gift nicely in her lap, and while she's preoccupied... give her husband really good cigars...she'll complain but she'll be preoccupied...and or some really good whiskey or cognac or brandy. Then get out of there as quickly and as politely as possible." Carl took good draught on his shake. "Brand carries something called an Obsidian Dagger, and it does some pretty nasty and fairly permanent damage if he decides to carve on you with it. So make her happy, give him something he likes, and get out of there," Carl sighed. "When she was queen sitting in Amber, that got me out of problems at court when I had to show."

I nodded as Carl was speaking, "That pretty much sums up what Archie said about her."

"Useful to know," Laszlo said. "Thanks."

Carl nodded. "More useless family trivia. It's Martin, myself, Crispin, Michael, and Archie in that order." Another slurp of the shake. Nice to know I wasn’t the only one enjoying the food around here. "Archie's the last one to show up on that side of the family, anyway. I hear he and Maegwin are trying to populate a shadow or two." Carl grinned slightly after that. "Archie is Jasra's...and he has a lot of part siblings because of that. Jason is his half brother as well as Kelson, Dante, um...I forget who else."

"What muddies the waters is that some royals seems to regularly change partners and have more kids,” Laszlo observed.

Carl snickered at that a little.

“The whole things a mess of step-kids and in-laws." Laszlo shook his head confusedly. "If you don't mind me asking, who are your parents?" Laszlo asked. "You might as well fill in the other blanks while you're at it." I was rather curious too. Should have brought my notes to this thing, so I could keep track of all the various twists and turns of the family tree.

"One of Random's brood with Llewella," Carl replied. "I have at least three half brothers on one side, and a half brother and sister on the other. That sister produced a son from one of my brothers from the other side..."

"Llewella and Random, eh?" Laszlo said affably. "There's a combination to conjure with..."

"I'm pretty sure way too much alcohol and probably other controlled substances were involved, and the end result was a leverage tool against Random," Carl observed.

Carl shook his head. "And most of us were used for political pawn and leverage on somebody for a long time. I've mentioned my tree just to show how convoluted things can get. That I was first cousins both sides to Ches, and ended up marrying his mother's half sister, so I became his uncle. We used to get a lot of mileage out of that for joking around since he was far older than I was..."

Laszlo looked confused. "Err, right." Right there he gave away that he had less experience with the family that I did…and that’s saying a lot. Or maybe he hadn’t looked at the genealogy charts yet. You do almost need a degree to read them.

"Just telling you how things can happen," Carl replied. "There are family threads worse than that snarl."

"Oh!" I said, changing the subject slightly, "I've met your brother then, Richard. Really nice guy. He was very kind to me." Still wasn’t sure where I fit into the whole mess.

“Brother...Richard,” he said after a long while, turning his green eyes on me. "I have a nephew by my brother Michael that's a Richard, but he's deep in Inverness." He raised an eyebrow and continued to regard me, a bit strangely I might add. "If I have a brother called Richard, he's 'new'...or hasn't come to the surface yet...and you just brought him out."

I blinked, confused. Could I have gotten that all wrong? Met too many people during that time. "Uh, well, he was Random's son--or grandson maybe." I shrugged, trying to play things nonchalant even though I was sure I committed some sort of faux pas, "It was a while ago anyway, so I suppose I could mistaken. Lots of people to keep track of and all."

Carl nodded. "Last time Random was on the throne, he'd made Richard Crown Prince. About the time that Grandfather came back, Richard moved under my roof and as far as I know he's still hiding out there in the corner I gave him."

I smiled in relief, "Yes, that's the one." Not wrong then.

"That would have been a while back then," Carl commented. "He's been living with Hannah and the last of his sons, I think....Bevin..."

I nodded, my head feeling like it was going to pop off from so much nodding, "It was a while ago, when Random was still in Amber. Never did get to meet him, though I heard some interesting stories."

Carl chuckled. "He's one of the 'party hardier' ones of the family. And I rarely ran into him too."

I paused, feeling a sneeze coming on. Sure enough, I sneezed into my handkerchief and sighed. "He and Archie were basically the two who introduced me to Amber and the family. Both of them were very kind to me, and made a rather good first impression."

"Random's got a rep, he helped with some of it, but he's basically a good enough sort. Archie is one of my better brothers..." Carl grinned. "Even if I do give him lots of guff over being a littler brother."

Carl returned his gaze to Laszlo. I went back to my shake. Drat, it was just about gone. "Now, your turn. You look like possibly one of the Swayville family descendents, and I apologize if I guessed wrong...."

"I wouldn't know about that," Laszlo confessed. "Flora's my mother, pure and simple. That's how I like it."

Carl smiled slightly, and then a bit of laughter came tumbling out, "Time back she held a bash in the Versailles Palace in Earth Prime France. Most everybody showed, including a lot of the uncles and aunts. Julian, Caine and Gerard had been drinking...Uncle Gerard WAY lots...that was right after Rilga got it and her soul got kacked....and Carol Seehee mouthed off and Gerard dunked her in the punch. Like she almost quit making bubbles. I TRIED to get the staff to mix up some of the lethal college frat recipes I remembered and he didn't even blink after drinking quarts of some of those..." Carl shook his head ruefully. "First time I seen either of my parents in the flesh...at least Random talked to me...Llewella walked off." He got a distant look to him as he finished that. I wonder if it’ll be like that with my parents, when I do meet them?

He returned his gaze to Laszlo. "I wonder if your mother is out of the snit yet for all the stained linen from the punch. I bet it didn't come out of that carpet either."

Laszlo grinned, "Sounds like you get to go to all the best parties.”

"There was two that night, one in Amber and one there. I snuck out of the first one as it was a court thing, and went to the second one just to meet my parents." Carl paused for a moment, before continuing on, "As for 'the best parties' when there is a large gathering of family, we often refer to 'the floorshow' as something ALWAYS happens. Either a fight or something or someone crashes it, or some such. I don't know what the critical mass is, but."

Carl grinned. "My first ever family event, I guess I was..." He blushed. I restrained the urge to glance at my watch to see how long he lasted blush-free. That would have been rude.

"Please continue," Laszlo urged, listening to Carl in fascination. "This is the sort of family history I like. I've not heard the expression 'out of the snit' before, but if you mean is she still mad - probably. Mother's generation doesn’t forget things like that.”

"I bet Uncles Gerard, Julian, and Caine haven't shown their faces at any of her events since..." Carl smiled in response.

"I doubt it." Laszlo agreed.

"I looked up who's who when I was in Amber, before Oberon came back and booted everyone out. There's almost too many to keep track of.” I smiled and shrugged, "Very, uh, fertile family we have."

Carl shrugged. "Depends on who you're talking about and who crosses with who." He sighed. "I had a first cousin from both sides of his lineage, and ended up being his uncle." Carl shook his head slightly. "It's been said that a bunch of us are rednecks because our family tree does NOT fork..." His smile faltered a little bit at the end there, but at least he was making an effort.

"In most societies, incest is taboo because it heightens the chance that the offspring will pick up any defects," I replied, all academic like.

Carl rolled his eyes, left them crossed, then tilted his head and did the 'blah eyah blah' bit. Then sobered up and turned a few shades of red. I plunged on anyway. It’s so hard to stop my mouth from going when I don’t want it to. "From what I've gathered so far, many of the uh, Royal family are almost experiments...to see what sort of kids two relatives would produce. Well..."

"Or political leverage by the short hairs. I was just one of many hockey pucks used on someone by someone else." Carl reminded me softly. Way to hit all the sensitive points. Go, me.

I started blushing there, getting embarrassed, but determined to make my point. Awfully plucky of me.”…maybe not,” I started up again where I left off at, “but I think the chances of an Amberite passing on a defect is minimal. Except maybe insanity, but it's not proven--to my knowledge anyway--that anyone in the family is insane. I think the term used is 'misunderstood'."

Carl burst out laughing. I was just about to get offended by that, when he shook his head saying, “I think it’s a family prerequisite.” Oh.. He thought it was funny…wait. That means that he actually laughed at one of my jokes. A rarity, because usually no one else got them.

"Have you met Jason?" Laszlo chipped in at this point.

Carl grinned, as if there was a joke that I wasn’t let in on.

"No, but I will soon enough, I think," I replied, wondering what the joke was. "His wife is my mother, if, er, rumors are true."

That got Carl’s green eyes on me again. He stared at me very intently, so much so that I almost started wondering if I said something wrong. Finally, he said, “Hm. There was a whole goings on a while back involving Claudine…hm.”

"Uh, yes,” was my intelligent reply. “From what I heard, I guess some chap named Colmar is my father. Haven't met him yet either."

There was a sputtering somewhere behind me, as someone very loudly laughed. I turned slightly to regard a rather short, stocky… solid looking man. Royce, I thought his name was. Didn’t look like he shaved properly this morning. His laugh turned into a snort, and punch came dribbling out of his nose. I blinked at him in some surprise as he dug out a handkerchief to mop off his lip. “Are you quite alright there?”

He coughed and sputtered some more before managing, “Oh, I’m great, just fine.” A fit of laugher overtook him again momentarily, and it was a bit before he finished his sentence, “but I haven’t just gotten news about having a daughter. I’m just laughing about the guy who will be getting that news. Colmar,” he laughed, “is going to be a fun man to observe, whenever he finds out.”

Carl took out a small notebook and pen and evidently wrote that down! I could almost see the two of them taking bets on…well…I don’t know what exactly, but I could see it. "I want to remember to look that one up..." he closed up the book and puts it away. "Having a palantir means popcorn and poker night. That one outta be good.

"So went the rumors,” Carl went on to say. "That would explain why Colmar is holed up so distantly recently. Jason probably wants him for a living coatrack to pound into gravel."

"Well, I really don't want Jason beating the snot of out my nephew," Royce declared. "It would mean that I couldn't play around with his toys in fun places like Ygg." He chuckled. "If Jason starts getting too rambunctious, I'll try to guilt trip him by telling him long stories of the miserable time I had growing up after he kidnapped mom. Whenever I start looking mournfully in his direction, he winces."

"Oh," I said, thinking that this wasn’t sounding too good. "My, hmm stepfather I'd guess, is that..." I paused for a moment, looking for a suitably neutral word, "...reactionary?"

"What his troops have been doing in NS is pretty standard for him in a bit of a...mood," Nimue said, doing the same amount of tip-toeing around phrases that I was doing.

"He's inspired when it's his family." Carl amended. "Otherwise he's pretty laid back and sticks to coatracking Chickiepoos at S&M court.

"Jason's a very decent sort." Carl began again after a bit. "He just tends to get a bit over when it comes to his family. Very fast, and very much shows his heritage at those moments. I've known him to be pretty decent...and he sure had reasons when I first showed my face to punt me somewhere." He grinned suddenly, "I wouldn't worry much if I were you unless you start in with something fanatical right away. Oh, and Davis, his Mrr chancellor, can be a real pain sometimes."

"Well, from what I read the Mrr are felines, so I'll have problems there anyway," I replied, taking a surreptitious look around for any black wolves. "But I will take your advice under definite consideration...I want to make a good impression on him and Claudine when I finally do meet them. I mean, I may not care much about immediate family but that's because I've never had them. It'll be something new."

Carl smiled. "Mrr are sentient creatures. There's several 'clan's' of them, and some are better than others. The Burmese are generally quite laid back and make good chancellors. The Siamese can be a pain in the backside. The tabby can be mostly trouble," Carl shrugged slightly. "Davis is an opinionated flame point Siamese." Carl leaned over, and said to me conspiratorially. "He hates squirt guns..." Carl chuckled. "However I think I'm one of the few that can smuggle a squirt into Lupinia and get away with it."

I shared a smile with him, laughing, "That's a positively wicked thing to do to a cat."

"Once you meet Davis you'll know why even Jason considers it a high sport, tagging Davis with lots of water." Carl grinned.

"That bad, eh?" I laughed, trying to grimace.

"Corwin's last bash in Parys, Jason brought a Vogon Mark VIII Death Blaster. Davis was the first on the list apparently; I think I was about #3. I finally got tired of some of it and just started trump gating some of the worst offenders right over the swimming pool." Carl shook his head ruefully, still grinning over the incident.

"Trump gating?" I asked, changing the subject for the moment. Never heard of such a thing.

Carl uttered a soft sigh, and his expression sobered, "I've dedicated myself to the study of Trump for a very very long time, and can work trump, do Trump, and most Trump effects without a card. If I really want and nobody's trying to vent my hide at the time, I can open a trump gate and move it into someone, effectively forcing them through a Trump connection to elsewhere." Carl paused to take a drink of his shake. I resisted the urge to start drumming my fingers on the table, though I really was itching for a pad of paper. Should have brought one. "I was using it to take some of the worst offenders and dump them from where they were standing to about two meters above the swimming pool. One way trip to massively wet."

"Ah," I murmured and nodded, "I understand. Sort of like Trumping without the card, but a bit different."

"Other than that, Jason can be pretty civil. He gives you enough time to open your face before he nukes you for the C-4 you hid in the bouquet," Carl smiled lopsidedly. "I'm sure he'll be nice to you, as you are family-in-law. Uh...thinking of that have you met Tabitha or Tamara or Tabitha's kids yet?"

"Er, not really, no," I replied, frowning. "All part of the deal with my job here, but I was hoping for a more informal meeting at first, kind of a 'get to know each other' deal."

"Until Tabitha gets what she has for a mind ironed out and fluff dried Jason won't be letting her loose I'm afraid." Carl sighed. "I don't know what exactly happened but it wasn't very nice. And Jason is overprotective, hence he's sitting here with all his friends and buds and allies and lots and lots of armament and ordinance just waiting." Carl sighed again. "I'm his friend and I have a cabinet position here yet, so I brought my toys too. Hence tonight I'm sitting in a tent drinking melted calories and getting to know some people." He smiled slightly at the end, trying to take some of the…oh, I don’t know…take some of the harshness out of his words. War is a dirty business.

I nodded, understanding a little bit, "Terrible thing that happened here, really. It's why I wanted to help out in the first place."

"It isn't the first time someone tried to pave the place and probably won't be the last," Carl sighed. "I've been here through a few go-rounds already."

I nodded again, and decided to change the subject. So, I turned back to Royce, “Ah, I was rather under the impression that except for a few individuals, this family was rather, ah, distant to each other. You think this will really surprise him?”

"Oh, yeah. Heck, yeah. All of the Coreys, including my nephew Colmar, have a pretty laissez-faire attitude towards their kids - going right back to Corwin himself," Royce said bawdily. "But I think that learning about a daughter, and a daughter that was raised in Haven will be...difficult...for him to deal with."

I frowned, "Uh, but I wasn't raised in Haven. I'm just living there currently."

"That'll do wonders for his peace of mind. Still, I think that having a daughter is going to play merry hell with him," Royce said, sounding pretty damn merry about it. "Heck, the dame he's been seeing likes to make fun of him for being too protective. So does his daughter in law. Having a daughter is going to tie his mind in knots."

"Really now? That should be..." I said, floundering for words for a moment, "Uh, should be something to see alright, when we meet, I guess." I shrugged. Then sneezed. Then sighed. This was going to be bad. What if he didn’t approve of me living in Haven? Or, what if he didn’t want anything to do with me? I mean, I’m not used to a family, but after a while, the idea had grown on me. I wanted to see what it was like.

"Aw, shucks," Royce muttered, staring at his plate. He blushed then. That big, bulgy guy blushed! It seemed much more natural on Carl. However, the inadvertent gesture touched me. "I done and stuck my foot square in my mouth again. Look, don't pay me no mind. I tend to run at the mouth a bit, and I've gone and made you uncomfortable. Just take what I said with a grain or three of salt, will you?"

"No, no, that's alright," I replied, smiling a little.. "I'm just uh, not used to having to meet all these relatives. I'm not used to having relatives, so it'll be a bit awkward no matter who says what."

"Oh, okay," Royce said, brightening up. I blinked. He was almost as cheerful as I was, and that’s saying something. Nice to know some traits might run in the family. Couldn’t stand it if everyone I was related to was all gloom and doom. "In that case, you can either think of me as the crazy uncle that slips booze to the kids or a slightly annoying older brother. I'm both, y'see."

My smile grew bigger as Royce brightened up, "Well, having a crazy uncle or annoying older brother isn't so bad then."

"That's good. I'm not even that annoying," Royce nattered on. "Except to a guy that I hogtied and poured beer on once. He was probably annoyed. But I wasn't related to him, and he deserved it."

"What did he do to deserve it?" I asked, on the verge of laughing.

"He hit me. And him a guest in my house. Sheesh. Courtesy's gone right out the window, you know. So I hit him back, and he doesn't like it. Nothing to do at that point but start throwing punches. He takes one head shot too many, and goes down for the count. I tie him up, figuring we can talk reasonable-like when he comes to. So he comes to, and you know what he does? He starts HUMPING my LAWN!" Royce exclaimed, looking and sounding extremely aggrieved. "What's a guy supposed to do? So I pour on some cold beer in the right spot to discourage him, slip him a mickey via the ol' ante cubital, and ship him home. Geez. That kinda grief, I just don't need."

I laughed outright, "I'd say he deserved it then."

"Well, that's what I thought, or I wouldnta' done it. I don't run around just swatting people for grins, you know," Royce replied primly. "Putting my foot in my mouth, now...that's a whole different ball of wax."

I waved off the semi-apology, "Everyone does that once in a while."

"Gee, thanks...usually getting forgiveness in this family is like pulling teeth," Royce said. "Look, if there's anything I can ever do for you, just ask. I hauled my butt all the way out here for Tabby's sake, just because that's why big brothers were invented."

I blinked, "Oh, you're Tabitha's brother?" I really should start paying more attention here. "I didn't know."

"Yeah. I thought I mentioned that, somewhere along the line. No matter. Claudine's my mom, though I haven't seen her in a month of Sundays," Royce said. "Now, Tabby never invited me out to give a hand, I I've never even met her, but it's just the principle of the thing."

I blinked and stared at him blankly. If Claudine was his mother, and Tabitha was his sister…that would mean that Tabitha was my sister too. I didn’t know that. Haven didn’t tell me that. No one told me that. I closed my eyes to think, sussing out the meaning of his words in my head. That was terribly difficult for some reason. I repeated the conversation a few times in my head, making sure I heard him right.

I did. I wasn’t mistaken.

Opening my eyes again, I peered suspiciously at Royce, “Did you mention that earlier and I’ve gone completely daft? Or did you not mention that? I’ve rather lost track, I think.”

He frowned at me, scratching his head like some sort of caveman. “Let me think about that for a moment. Hmmmm…maybe I didn’t. No matter,” he replies, dismissing issue and missing my agitation about it. “I was born long before Jason fell for mom and pursued a very, uh, unorthodox method of courting. Far as anyone knew, I was just the really strong guy on the paramedic team, and the first choice for anchor in the departmental tug-of-contests at the annual picnic. Then one day, I saw the two of them together on the telly, and I headed to where they were staying with firm intentions of applying boot to butt. Things moved kinda fast after that.”

I graced him with a wry smile, “No, no. I was just finding this all very amusing, since as the rumor goes Claudine’s my mother…so, as you were saying about older brothers earlier…” I shook my hair out, unable to suppress a surge of joy. I hadn’t even considered having siblings…not in the slightest. “So, that’s why I was wondering if I had missed something—I remember the brother (or crazy uncle) comment, but not anything directly relating to your lineage.”

"Oh. When I get word that I was going to be allowed to the party in Ygg, I started bombarding people with demands for personnel dossiers. What I couldn't get, I stole. I just assumed that everyone operated that way," Royce said, sounding rather blasé about it. "So that's how I knew about our relationship from both sides of the family, and That's why I figured you knew the same."

"Dossiers, eh?" I grimaced. "I can't say I approve of being watched--not really used to it and all--but I suppose there's nothing I can do about it either." I sighed, heavily, "And no. I came into rather blind, I'd say. So, this is a pleasant surprise." I smiled a little at him. There was a dossier on me. Probably several. That was an unnerving thought.

"Watching? You credit me with more access than I really have," Royce replied, laughing. "No, we all leave paper trails. Birth certificates, medical records, school records, and credit records - it's all out there and open source. Usually it's just a matter of trolling around and assembling all of it. With people like you and me, we don't warrant real watching unless we do something that catapults us into view and makes us valuable enough to scope out."

"Even following paper trails is a form of watching," I pointed out even while I was relieved that it wasn’t as bad as it first sounded.

Royce shrugged, haphazardly. “It happens. You get used to it, eventually,” he said. Not me, I thought to myself. “Or you can just go nuts. Not an option I recommend.” Well, when he put it that way, getting used to being watched sounded more appealing.

"Nobody's strictly sane," I observed, playing Devil’s Advocate. "After all, many people have fears of something--spiders, heights, open spaces, whatever--and a phobia is considered a form of insanity." I paused, deciding how I felt about all this, "I'll probably just ignore it. It won't make it go away, but then it can't bother me overly much."

"All that aside, I was intrigued to know I'd be working with one of my siblings. I haven't met any others, though I've heard that Tabby thinks I'm a brutish-looking lout." The corners of his eyes crinkled with merriment. "The crazy old uncle remark was true, too, on the other side of your family, though I don't really think of myself as 'old'."

I blinked, "Uh, ok." Well, he did say that Colmar was his nephew..so that would make me both his sister and grandniece, I think. That was…well, alright. I didn’t quite know what to think about that.

"I swear, trying to keep track of who's related to whom is a major effort," Royce continued. "The family tree is tangled up like a cat's-cradle."

I sighed, heavily. "So I've heard. And seen, a little."

"You're your own grandpa?" Carl interjected with a straight face. He couldn’t hold it very long though, and he grinned at the two of us. “I had a half first cousin, from both sides of his family; then I married his mother's half sister and became his uncle." Oh, I noted. Married. Too bad. Carl grinned and toasted Royce with his shake. "They say with an Amberite, we're all rednecks because our family tree does not fork...."

"Right," I nodded, laughing, "I remember Archie remarking at some point earlier that he didn't date people too closely related to him. I thought he was joking at the time."

"More like a family wreath," Royce cackled. "Thank goodness I don't have too many of those wacky setups yet. At least, not that I know of."

"_YET_ is the defining word..." Carl still had the grin plastered over his features. "Just wait after a few years of being out in the family, and a few centuries of burned off fasttime abuse, and you'll be snarled into the most fantastic corner of the family you can't imagine after a fifth of toenail straightener..." Carl took a break there to take a drink of his shake. "I was told that great grandfather Dworkin keeps a family tree lineage and it involves magically induced fourth dimensional representation...." he shook his head, looking as confused over the whole deal as I was.

He sobered up, and went on speaking, "If you ever find a shadow person you're serious about, take them very deep and lay very low, and live their life with them. Unless you're a creator or you pick someone from somewhere like Amber prime plane; you will certainly bury them." He stopped, a little abruptly there, looking a bit misty-eyed, maybe? Something…anyway. I felt rather sorry for him then.

I nodded, agreeing with him, "Oh, I know about shadow folk alright. My husband died of old age." That sounded downright callous. It wasn’t meant that way, but William was a long time ago. I will always remember him, but I couldn’t bring him back. No sense dwelling on it overmuch. I changed the subject a little, "Still not going to tackle any familial relationships however; some taboos are rather, uh, ingrained."

Carl nodded at that. "Put some more centuries under your belt and you do get lonely..." he said quietly. My heart went out to him again. Ah! Stop it! What did you just say not two seconds ago, you silly girl! Married, remember? Sheesh.

"When this family decides to play hardball, a shadow person just doesn't survive. Period." Carl paused again. "If you pick another blooded family member, at least there is a chance of getting them back alive if they get arrested or captured...or kidnapped." He flicked at the tabletop with a fingernail a few times. "I've lost several loved ones because of that." he said softly. "These days its even worse. My brother was right, you pick family just because they can take some of the things some of the family does to each other." Carl ended by looking off that way for a bit, not at any of us.

Oh. Not married. Anymore.

I melted. He’d been so hurt before…what he said made me want to comfort him. I’m just too much of a soft touch, but I reached over and laid my hand on his arm, “Er, sorry for your losses, Carl.”

He turned and looked at me with this emotionless face. My eyes widened a little bit—ok, touching is definitely a taboo. Will remember that. So move your hand. C’mon, move it. “You wonder where my attitude about family comes from…?” he asked, in a toneless voice. “…just warning you from one that’s worn out the tee shirt already and recycled the postcard.” Move, you can move it. Probably offending him big time; it’s not that hard. Move. “Just be careful of who you pick for friends and others. Enemies can wait for a long, long, long time. Revenge is a dish best served ice cold.” I removed my hand from him post-haste, feeling about two inches tall. Way to make an impression. He shrugged there, starting to warm up a little again. “At least now I have a place to sleep where I’m pretty sure I’ll wake up in the same place and not because somebody’s stuffing me in a blue crystal sack and hauling me off.”

“So you’ve said before,” I returned, trying desperately not to blush or look away. I was just hitting all the wrong notes today…or so it seemed, anyway.

There was an awkward silence for a bit, until he finally broke it, “Enough gloom.” Thank god I thought. “We gathered together here to scarf my food and trade flattery and light insults, right?” He smiled a little, awkwardly. “Just don’t try to talk me into dancing, my style is the minuet or ‘smash toes stomp’…”

I smiled, “At least it’s not disco.”

“That’s Kelric and Haven. You’ve at least heard of Achmed and Jocko haven’t you?” Carl asked with a smirk. “I leave the disco to them…especially Jocko does about the worst Jon Revolta imitation I’ve ever see.”

I nodded, grinning back at him. “I’ve heard a little bit about them, but not very much. But if they’re into disco…” I gave a mock-shudder, a bit theatrically overdone, but it got my point across.

“From what I have seen and heard it’s worse than that,” Carl nodded in agreement to my assessment. “Only thing worse is never ever ever get near a cigar if Allen Unkerr is around, or you will be the target of his very unwanted attentions.”

“I’ve had the dubious pleasure of his attention already,” I replied, grimacing at the memory. Eeeuuuuu…!

Carl nodded, “I’ve helped my sister-in-law out on that several times, he had a real fixation on her for some time that not even being zotted or repeatedly sent to the dumpster or worse got it through his head that she wanted nothing to do with him.” He made a face, paralleling my grimace. “Then, I forget who wandered past and messed with a cigar…

"Any creator other than Kelric, has picked out a special place to flush him to if he shows, then after so long, he is flung back to Haven....and the superfund toxic site cleanup crew spends a lot of time cleaning it up." He didn’t smile afterwards either, totally serious on the subject. I grimaced thinking about that and Unkerr…and EEEUUUUU…

"Took a rather pleasant afternoon floating on the lake in an inner tube, nice breeze, some few fluffy clouds for shade, a few brewskis in the can...and contemplated the perfect place to flush him. Was rather a nice afternoon's work... and it's quite the perfect place, trust me. One of the few that I know that since I was aware of it first, could plan for it instead of ruining perfectly good turf." Carl elaborated "I wasn't the first to have predesignated a place and probably won't be the last. And he keeps coming back worse than that pink bunny." He shook his head ruefully.

"How does he get around to all these different places to annoy so many people?" I asked, frowning.

"I think he is one of the first cloning experiments, and that there is a whole shadow FULL of him somewhere. They escape from time to time and the multiverse gets to shudder." Carl shook his head again. "I honestly don't know how he gets around like he does, as I know he doesn't hold higher powers. Just a bunch of framed paper from some of Haven's universities in the equivalent of underwater basket weaving..."

I grimaced again, "Reality filled with Unkerrs." A shudder accompanied the grimace this time around, "That's almost too disgusting to imagine, but unfortunately the image is with me."

"It's said if you search deep enough in shadow you can find anything. Since his locus seems to be Haven, you'd have to search there..." Carl offered.

I playfully hit him on the shoulder, “Well, rock me to sleep tonight with that, Carl. Sheesh..” I smiled even though I was still feeling ill over the thought of Allen Unkerr everywhere I went. The stuff of nightmares that was.

He blushed, “Most people don’t volunteer me for that privilege, tucking them in…” He blew grew to a vivid crimson and he turned away for a moment. My stomach did a lazy flip-flop.

Before a fully blown image of Carl tucking me into bed bloomed in my head, I hit him again. Not hard, just playfully like before. I smiled, perhaps a bit too widely, “Oh, jeez. Nice guy like you oughta be married by now.” Great save. Really.

He didn’t turn towards me; kept looking off in the distance. “I have been,” he said softly. Oh, great save there.. He did start to stop blushing though. “Repeat widower..” he said, a sound of finality to it.

I nodded and frowned simultaneously, afraid that I’d really stepped over the line this time. My big mouth. “I meant again. Or something.” Yeah, really. Uh.. “What I mean to say is that if you have been married, why do you get embarrassed around women so easily?” Ok, that was better.

He shrugged, color starting to come back to his cheeks. “I just do..” he said, still not looking at me.

“Any sort of childhood trauma or embarrassment attached to it? Or just something that’s always been?” I asked, curious and heedless of his reaction.

“I just blush, ok?” Carl got out, sounding a little bit choked. He was definitely red now.

Whoops. Too far. Happens a lot. “Ok,” I replied, easing back in my seat. “I was just curious.”

He shrugged, “S’rite.”

Talk about your awkward silences. Way to make him feel bad..wonderful. Just wonderful. I felt miserable.

“I think you’re taking the crease out of it..just had it pressed too,” Carl said, tugging at the shoulder I was hitting.

I blinked, surprised that he wasn’t mad. “Well,” I began, “if laundry means so much to you, I suppose I’ll have to restrain myself from abusing it.” I tried giving him a smile, hoping to make him smile too.

“When you have to do your own, it gets to be something near and dear..” Carl remarked, patting his sleeve back into place. “…or life threatening depending on how long it’s sulked under the couch and bed.”

I laughed; I couldn’t help it. “My laundry’s never threatened me, but I guess things are different where you come from.”

“Trust me, just used sweatsocks were the original chemical warfare items,” he grinned back at me, still a little pink from his earlier blushing. “…ask my brothers…” he paused for a second, green eyes sparkling merrily, “..in fact, as most brothers.”

I smiled, still laughing a little. It would have been nice to have been raised with a family, instead of an orphanage.

It was like he was reading my mind as he said, “Just because you didn’t grow up with your siblings doesn’t mean you can’t still have some fun and catch up on a few things.” He kept grinning at me, “I did that to a few brothers long after we all grew up, and they did in turn.”

"A fate worse than death," Nimue quipped and smiled around her straw.

"No, that's being stuck on a blind date with either Allen or Jardis Unkerr," Carl said with a straight face, only being able to hold onto the expression for a second before he grinned. I shuddered, thinking of Unkerr again. Eeeu. He kept on grinning, “I once gave Mess-er Unkerr a ticket to a black tie fundraiser in Suhuy’s palatial digs, no less. He lasted about two minutes and I had to sent him home, but I think it made the point.” He laughed after that, “At least I had the ability to sanitize him some first; you could actually stand to be within five feet of him without a mask.”

I laughed at that, almost to the point where I started blushing again. Ok. Time to change the subject.. so I turned back to Laszlo, still mightily amused, "What sort of services do you provide?"

"Diplomatic services, my lady." Laszlo replied, "though I have been known to turn my hand to other things."

Nimue, who had been mostly silent during the rest of us babbling, rose from her seat and offered her hand to Laszlo, getting around to introducing herself finally. “Nimue,” she said, “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Laszlo.”

"The pleasure is all mine, Lady Nimue," Laszlo replied, kissing her hand.

"Simply Nimue will suffice," she said demurely, retrieving her hand. "Don't you think it's rather selfish to be taking all of the pleasure? Surely you could spare a little for me as well?" I blinked. Whoa…ok…

"Only if you command it," Laszlo replied, "but first you must tell me what gives you pleasure." He had a very mischievous look on his face.

"Are all Amberites so bold?" Nimue asked, her voice trying to be discouraging while she was blushing. "Or only you?"

"I could claim as such, but it would be an idle boast." Laszlo replied modestly. "I apologize if I have offended your sensibilities, but you do blush very prettily."

“Carl’s an Amberite too," I pointed out. "Matter of fact, we all are here at this table, I'd bet. I'm not being bold or saucy or whatever they call it these days." Wow. Catty much? Needed to watch my big, fat mouth here. Already done quite enough talking already.

"Yes, well...some of us are actually more Chaosite, but that's neither here nor there. I'd consider myself a Havenite rather than an Amberite, really," Nimue replied with a shrug and a decidedly cooled down voice.

"I work for the Haven government," Nimue replied to Laszlo. "It is quite likely that in the very near future we shall be sitting at a table opposite each other." She regained a measure of her composure and smiles faintly. "I'm part of a commission that King Kelric has sent to Ygg. Lucy here is one of my coworkers. She's the ambassador to Ygg, I believe."

I nodded an affirmative, turning back to my food.

"We are all Ambassadors, are we not, in some way or other." Laszlo replied. "And if we should sit at the same table, then that will surely enhance my day immeasurably. So please, tell me about this commission that your king has arranged for you."

"I think we're here pretty much for the same reason everybody else is here," Nimue said brightly. "To help Ygg in its hour of need." The smile widened again. She smiled nearly as much as I did, if not more.

I shrugged, "Yes, there's that. But, I don't really pay allegiance to anyone. I didn't grow up with them, I don't know them, so it's rather hard to pay service to someone simply because you're related to them. Kind of silly almost."

"You might think that," Laszlo argued, "but there seems to be a great swathe of creation that disagrees with you. Some parts of our diverse family put great store in supporting their immediate siblings and offspring. One cannot deny a birthright, or truly squander an inheritance. Blood truly is thicker than water."

I shrugged again, "Then they disagree. I certainly don't place any loyalties or whatnot because I'm related to them. Until a few days ago, I didn't even know which section of this family I belonged to. Once I knew, it didn't change things at all."

"Then perhaps you are fortunate in that," Laszlo replied. "I think there is merit in laissez-faire."

"Well, to a point," I replied. "What I mean to say is that I'm not going to automatically like a person because they're related to me, or follow them. I'd rather judge them on the, to quote MLK, content of their character." I shrugged, giving Laszlo a smile.

"How refreshing," Laszlo grinned. I smiled at him, pleased that someone else agreed with my viewpoint.

"Do beware," Carl interjected. "That can be a most noble thought, but it can also be most painful. Who you are related to gives you an automatic set of enemies, whether you like that or not, and a set of POSSIBLE allies, again, whether you like it or not. It takes time to cast adrift from the inheritance of your birth and forge your own way. In the meantime there are lots more narrow minded individuals that are going to take a hard and narrow line. Unless you are careful, you will be in for some painful times and rude awakenings until you finally make enough way that it doesn't matter who you are and who you are related to." He rubbed the top of his right hand knuckles with his left hand palm absently as he was speaking. "Some of this family plays really hardball."

"I haven't had any problems yet," I pointed out, "And I guess when I do, well, I'll burn that bridge when I get to it." I wasn't overly concerned, "I think this will be my first and last foray into politics anyway. After this, I'll find some nice quiet place and sit there for a century or two before I even think about getting into somewhat like this again."

"Good luck and not likely." Carl commented. "Now that you're out in public, it's almost impossible to go back and hide. The family knows about you and you are now on the chessboard and they won't let you off." By the end of that, his voice had trailed off to almost a whisper.

"Oh, drat," I replied, getting a bit distressed over this. "Are you quite sure about that? I mean, I'm not really anyone, really, and it seems like I'm already flubbing this mission and I haven't done anything yet!" I sighed hugely, and starting picking at the food on my plate with a fork.

"Been there, done that, sent the postcard, wore out the teeshirt, read the book, scraped off the bumper sticker, seen the movie and rented the video," Carl reeled off. "I was saying the same things and feeling the same way a while back," he sighed. "I'm pretty sure you're doing fine, after all you go to sleep somewhere and are waking up in the same place, with nobody rousting you and carrying you off somewhere else." He sounded very serious about that.

"Yet," I replied stubbornly. "I haven't had anything done to me yet. But it's coming, I'm sure. Something will be, at any rate. Murphy's Law and all that."

"No, the general goings on of this family with some misguided and under-entertained family needing stuff to do and directing it at other family instead of elsewhere." Carl sighed. "My own brother had me kidnapped one night in a blue crystal sack and locked up as a prisoner 'for my own good'. He truly thought he was doing the right thing..." Carl shook his head. "Not the way you want to be woken up that's for sure."

"I would say so," I agreed, wanting again to comfort him. I was pretty sure though that it would be looked...er…badly if I suddenly started comforting practical strangers, family or no.

"I've spent many years and a lot of work to make it a pretty certain bet that as long as I go to bed somewhere at home, I will wake up where I went to sleep and not have a wakeup party standing there to drag me off when I do come to." Carl replied. "Making friends and allies and not ticking off certain others is a vital skillset. Start early. And as for some, staying below their radar means they will chase the bigger fish/annoyances/pains in their rears; and leave you alone. Words of advice as I've learned the hard way."

"I know you're trying to be helpful, Carl, and advice is appreciated," I said slowly, "but isn't there anything good you can say, in general, about our mutual relatives? Just one, little, tiny iota?"

"That depends greatly," Carl replied. "I'm just trying to give you a heads up over the general operating procedures that save your skin. Torture is no fun, neither is blood ritual." He paused, "Some will be better than others, it depends on who you're related to, what you do, what you say, where and with whom you hang out."

I sighed heavily, blowing the hair out of my eyes. Leaning on the table with my elbows, I commented, "You really should write pamphlets advertising the advantages of a hermit-like lifestyle. You'd be simply smashing at it."

"Self-isolation is generally only satisfactory for a few hundred years or so," Nimue replied lightly. "Most of us end up coming back if only because the rest of the universe doesn't present enough of a challenge."

"I'd say about three decades, then you really get to wanting a hot shower, a cold beer, and something that makes noise other than a lightning storm," Carl added.

"Oh, I don't know about that," I said, trying to sound perky. "I can find quite enough to do to fill millennia of time by myself. Always a new project to do." I smiled to Nimue; shouldn’t be butting heads with her since we had to work together and all, “Might be lonely for company after a while, but that's easily enough fixed."

"Then why are you here?" Nimue asked, smiling back. Ah, that was good.

"Why am I hobknobbing with family, or why am I in Ygg?" I asked, looking for a clarification of the question.

"Been there and done that, and you get tired of it after awhile," Carl mused. "After the longest drunk in family history, I spent a long long time drying out in a Tibetan monastery."

Royce looked up from his plate of food. "And don't forget self-inflicted problems. Some people will take umbrage when you're just hitting back," he said. "And some folks just have no sense of humor whatsoever. Just by defending yourself, you can bring down displeasure."

"Oh yes, that is one that can sneak up and bite you like a bat alongside the head," Carl nodded. "Revenge can be best served cold, trust me on that. A wrong word, a wrong look, and you're on someone's nasty list and they will go out of their way to stomp all over you. I lost several shadows and nice little places to live that I liked just because of that." Carl shook his head. "Paving projects at your expense are some people's reason for living."

"I did," Nimue said quietly. "Grandmother sent me off to a few public schools. I tend to be quiet anyway and the media has mostly ignored my existence, which I'm quite grateful for, all things told. Uncle Kelric used to give lovely gifts on birthdays. Queen Jasra bought me a pony when I got straight A's on my aptitude tests, graduating from Junior to Secondary school. I have a few siblings, but I've had very little to do with them. We all went our separate ways. I've always pretty much simply been cheerful and quiet." Nimue looked pensively down at the table, tracing nonsense patterns with her fingertip upon the wooden surface. Then she looked up with another smile. "I just dislike unfairness. I think if everybody stopped to actually listen to each other and tried to understand, then maybe we wouldn't argue or fight so much."

"Ah, well," I replied, "then that's the difference between you and I. I was an orphan." I shrugged, and then sneezed into my hand.

"I'm sorry," Nimue said softly. "I didn't know." She paused for a long while, frowning to herself. "It wasn't in the brief I had been given about you."

I blinked in surprise, "There was a brief about me?" Another dossier of information on me? Jeez…

"Yes, among other things I was told when I was given this assignment. I'm a Deputy Minister in the Foreign Ministry. I get a lot of briefs on people and situations. It's part of my job," Nimue clarified gently. "I was sent here to advise you and to help co-ordinate things within the team."

"So, what did it say about me?" I asked, curious and worried at the same time.

Nimue gave me a reassuring smile. "Nothing bad and not very much. Simply that you were the assigned Ambassador to Ygg and that I was to help you as much as I was able."

"Don't be surprised by intel. I used to have a bunch on one of my brothers, and he had a bunch on me. I even admitted it to his face, and he admitted he had a large detail on my rear too," Carl smiled a little. "I needed as much warning as possible on what he'd done lately so I could duck appropriately." he shrugged. "Intel happens. I know I've kept whole divisions busy and otherwise off the streets and employed."

Nimue glanced down, looking embarrassed. She eventually looked back to me, giving me a straight, ‘no nonsense’ type of look, "I wouldn't worry about it too much. You get used to people knowing things about you. Unfortunately, as a member of the family and as an ambassador, there are going to be a lot of people interested in what you do and who you are."

"And the higher you climb the more people that are interested," Carl said quietly. "I hope you can deal with it, unless you invest in a blue crystal room, which is prohibitive." He grimaced slightly afterwards, as if he had a bad taste in his mouth.

"Well, after this is done, I'm going to tell Ian that I'm stepping down at Ambassador," I declared, "It's definitely not my preferred area of interest, and I'll probably end up doing more damage than good here anyway, which shouldn't give them a reason to complain."

"This family is mostly dysfunctional when it came to our generation." Carl observed, reaching for his shake again. "Anyway, at least chocolate doesn't change much..." and had some.

Nimue reflected on this for a moment, slurping up pink goo through her straw. She somehow managed to do this and make it seem dignified. An enviable ability. "I suppose if one sees something they really don't like, then the best one can do is ensure they do not perpetuate it themselves. Even then one cannot force people to follow the manner and method, but hopefully by good example, they may choose to follow it themselves. That is a better answer than chocolate -- at least in my mind. It's certainly less fattening," she amended with an apologetic smile.

Carl set his down and stared at Nimue for a long second. I wish he’d look at me like that. Blah. Food good. Mmm. Chocolate. "I've been told repeatedly and under the best authority, that chocolate has no calories," he said very seriously. "Especially chocolate in or with ice cream," he actually held a serious expression at that, then smiled a little. "Are you sure you are a card carrying member of the opposite sex?" Too cute; they were just too cute. I sighed to myself.

Nimue held his gaze for a long while. "I'm not a member of the opposite sex. You are," she replied equally as gravely.

"To me, you are. And your persuasion has repeatedly told me thus." Carl shrugged slightly. "And that there is no way I can fully appreciate chocolate with all it's nuances as I am merely a 'he' and unable to fathom it's depths," Carl shrugged again. "Well, the only one I maintain that it's ok to eat donut holes as they have no calories. They're holes, right?" He cracked a smile at her.

Nimue hid her smile behind her hand, laughing softly, "I suppose you might be right," she said. "Perhaps I should try a diet of them for a week and see if I lose any weight?"

At that point, I was rather distracted (again, it happens a lot) since yet another blond guy showed up. If it hadn’t been for Royce, I would have swore everyone in this family was blond. He was big, very big, and wearing some sort of grey uniform, with some purple and gold braiding. It reminded me of the Confederacy uniforms way back when. However, the first thing that caught my attention was that he had a purple dragon on his shoulder, about as big as a cat. I blinked a few times, rather confused at the sight of it.

Carl, good host that he is, went over and led the chap over to our table. “Nimue…” Carl said, gesturing to Nimue, “…Lucretia..” indicating me, “…and Laszlo,” gesturing to Laszlo. “I’m not much into remembering names and titles tonight..” Carl added, looking to the man and his dragon. “Art and his buddy Spike,” he finished.

Nimue smiled at him, offering Art her hand. He shook it.

“Nice to meet you,” he remarked to her.

Laszlo was next; he rose from his chair, and offered a hand, “Pleased to meet you.”

Art shook his hand, “You’re right Amber, right?”

“Yup,” Laszlo smirked, “King Oberon has let me out of the playpen for a while.”

“Too bad,” Art replied, a bit haughtily. “Make sure you don’t catch anything.”

Instead of shaking my hand when I offered (or kissing it), he handed me a button of a clown with the traditional ‘anti’ symbol over it…circle with a slash through it. The logo read “Just say No to clowns”. It was rather odd, though I can’t say I disagreed with the sentiment. Clowns were…creepy. “Pleased to meet you,” I said to him, frowning just a little.

“Pleased to meet you too,” he replied, “You are here as part of Haven, right?” Without waiting for an answer, he continued, “What do you think of Red Wolf land…” the dragon murmured something into his ear, “…and cute purple tiny dragons?”

“Uh,” was my intelligent response, stuffing the button into a pocket. “Yes, I’m here on behalf of Haven. I suppose Red Wolf land is nice and all, but I haven’t had a chance to really explore it or anything, so I wouldn’t want to give an opinion—haven’t had time to form one yet.” I paused for a little bit, looking at Nimue trying to feed Spike cheese, “I suppose cute purple tiny dragons are very nice, but once again, I haven’t met any yet.”

That was an understatement. Probably of the year, if not the last century…Dragons where I’m from are huge, vicious, brutal killers. There’s a whole preserve dedicated to them, so they don’t get on the endangered species list, and they’re restricted to that area. Sometimes, they get out, and wreak havoc. I and some others brought the last one who did escape down, and it wasn’t pretty.

“Pleased to meet you,” the dragon said. “I run Imperial Amerika.”

“If you want a tour of Haven sometime,” Art said on top of him, “let me know. I—“

“WE,” Spike interrupted.

“--we could should you around, then show both of you around the Meck lands.”

Uh, ok. “Uh, that’d be nice,” I responded. “And it is nice to meet you both.” The thing, dragon, seemed intelligent, so perhaps it wouldn’t try to rip my hand off. First for everything.

It offered a paw to me, and I shook it, saying again, “Pleased to meet you…” This was the strangest thing I think I’ve ever experienced.

“Pleased to meet you too,” Spike replied, “Would you like to learn more about Imperial Amerika?”

“Sounds like a pitch if I’ve ever heard one,” I replied, thinking that a dragon politician is about my worst nightmare come to life. Still, it was pretty funny, almost. “Go ahead; I’m listening.”

Spike ate another piece of cheese from Nimue’s fingers, “Imperial Amerika is the closest creation to the Old Glory days of Atlantis. The people elect their representatives for governing. It has magic and technological aids to help the people.

“Dragons, elves, and other blooded people are treated with respect based on the quality of the person. It is not as fascist as Haven, where if you don’t think right you grow old or look like Unkerr. Free enterprise is encouraged. Government is responsible and not full of hot air.

“Land is cheap; you are only charge for processing the paper work and a loyalty oath. Art’s daughter runs the secret police and oversees the military for corruption. Bad officers are dealt with. We haven’t been invaded by outside forces; not even threatened. Prime Imperial Amerika looks like Earth Prime, and feels like Earth Prime.” The tiny creature stopped, then it’s muzzle turned up in a smile, “Any other questions?”

"I didn't have any questions to begin with," I pointed out amiably. I was starting to warm up to the creature; it seemed friendly anyway, "but it sounds nice enough and all. Er, I'd rather watch it about bragging about not being threatened though. Someone might take you up on that, and that wouldn't be very nice at all." I paused, "And since I don't know about Atlantis and all that, the comparison there doesn't mean very much to me, unless you'd care to explain what that was like?"

"Atlantis before the end was the greatest civilization ever created it was also the first all blooded people came from there. Many people remember their past lives from that time. Technology was superior to anything we have now, everyone was powerful and prosperous," Spike replied.

"What happened to it?" I asked, getting interested in the subject. "I mean, if it was so rosy and all, it should still be around, but since you're talking in a past tense, it isn't."

"Some evil idiot who current life is also an idiot did some forbidden rituals which created alien mixes and caused Atlantis to go to the bottom of the Atlantic ocean," Spike replied.

"Ah, I see," I murmured. Isn’t that always the way?

Art broke in here, "Have you talked to many dragons? Have gotten settled in Ygg yet?

I shook my head in a negative, "No. Where I come from, dragons aren't sentient, so it'd be rather a waste to try to talk to them--no offense intended. And no, I haven't really had time to get settled in Ygg yet."

Art smiled, "Most of the dragons in Ygg are sentient. Are you staying in the embassy? Or are you planning on getting a palace in Ygg?”

I blinked in surprise, "A palace? Uh, no. Just a, you know, small house would be fine. Probably rent. Or maybe in the embassy. I really don't know yet...though for right now I'm at the embassy."

"If you want I can point you to the better parts of town for housing. "Art offered. He was certainly being generous, for no particular reason. An odd feeling.

I nodded, "Thank you for the offer, but I'd rather find my own. Get a feel for the area around here as I look."

"Ok, just be careful Ygg isn't the safest of places on the good days," Art said.

"NO place is safe," I replied. Wait, that sounded bad. "Though I'm not paranoid or anything."

Art smiled at that, "You’re not paranoid if people are out to get you."

I blinked at him, "Well, no one is out to get me that I know of, at least." God, I hope not anyway. I hadn’t even done anything yet.

"Oh I don't know about that," Carl said, stepping up so he was standing next to Art. He offered Spike a cube of cheese, balanced on his index finger. “I’d be glad to loan you a few of the Second’s Finest..” With his other hand, he pointed at a patch that really didn’t mean anything to me. Oh, wait. It was the same as the blokes around here, the guards. “…if you want to go mucking about in relative safety.”

I smiled and said aloud, "That's alright, Carl, though the offer's appreciated. I'm sure I'm not well-known enough for people to have hired killers after me quite yet, and I'm pretty sure I can take care of any common or uncommon thugs myself."

“I could also offer some PPG, or I could talk to Thrawn and get BWG. Or good Uncle Tiberius and get Tiberian Guard, or Haven could supply Haven protection. But that just makes my point; in a safe area anyone shouldn’t need protection,” Art offered, as if trying to outbid Carl.

"Well we all know this was an attempt at a paving project and until that gets straightened out it isn't a place to go strolling without armament," Carl shrugged. "At least the lovely lady has no shortage of offers for making sure she is safe if she so chooses..." Carl smiled a little at me, and I started blushing.. "Two creators at your service, even."

Now, I really blushed. He had a point there; they were competing for my attention! Some girls might, ah, really get off on that sort of thing, but it was a novelty for me. It was also embarrassing… I don’t think I’ll ever be one of those ‘man-eater’ types of woman. I don’t think I could handle it. “Right, um, thanks to you both, but as I said before, I'm sure it's not necessary. Now, at least. I'll keep your offers in mind, however." I gave both of them a smile, trying to let them know that I did appreciate the offers. It really was very generous of both of them.

"Must have some spinach in the chompers..." Carl muttered. The bit of grin gave him away though as well as a touch of color at the cheeks.

"Any time," Art replied lazily. He paused for a heartbeat then asked of Nimue and I both, "How did Uncle Kelric find you?"

"He didn't," I replied, glad to be off the topic of protection and all that. "I took up residence in Haven, after going to a dinner there. There's a lot of good colleges there, and Haven was good enough to settle down there for a while. And then this.." I waved my hand in a circle, indicating Ygg and the situation here.

"We're not entirely sure how long this commission will require us to be stationed here," Nimue said gently. She looked down again swiftly, though, as if she were embarrassed.

"You'll be around until Tabby and Aunt Heidi and Uncle Charlie get the place straight," Art paused, "or you screw up really really badly. "

"Or quit," I commented, taking a drink of the last of my shake. Drat. Gone.

"I didn't take you for the sort that would quit," Nimue said in her gentle voice. "Then again, perhaps I was mistaking that with one of my traits."

"I didn't say I was quitting," I said, a bit exasperated, "I was pointing out another option."

She blinked a few times, and looked surprised. “I didn’t say you were quitting. I was expressing surprise that you seemed to be considering it.”

I was a bit confused. I was trying to correct the either/or statement Art made, not make a statement. Well, ok, I suppose I was making a statement, but not making a statement. "Did I say I was considering it?" I paused, making sure to ascertain if I had actually said that. I hadn’t. "No, I'm not considering it. It's just another option that I was pointing out."

Nimue shrugged noncommittally and went about seeing if Spike would eat cubes of cheese from her fingers. He would and did, of course. The small dragon gave her this very adoring look, “I like you.”

The laughter and smile died off of Nimue’s features rather quickly. She flushed a bright red, and looked down at her hands. She bit her lower lip, looking very, very uncomfortable. I glanced up at the source of her consternation. There was a big, blonde gent leering at her. I sent my biggest frown that way, almost scowling at him. His grin grew even wider, reminding me of a wolf’s maw. “Hey babe,” he said, arrogance oozing from him like a thick musk, “Want to come with me, and take the other chick too, and we can go to Bombay’s and party hardy!”

Was that even a question? Ah, remember. You’re supposed to be a diplomat here. I somehow thought someone might take it askance if I went up and slapped this gent. So, I tried to be diplomatic, “My name is Lucretia. Uh, and isn’t this a party already? And I don’t think that Nimue likes to be called ‘chick’ any more than I like ‘babe’. It’s sexist. After all, you know, men seem kind of offended when I treat them with all the importance of dirt—even though dirt is really important, it’s just an expression—so could you do us the same favor and refer to us by our names?”

I felt that was very diplomatic. Almost nice, even. Men did seem to get offended when I ignored them, which I usually did. I didn’t know what was wrong with me today and almost flirting with some of these gents here. Maybe it was all the attention that was getting paid to me… it really did almost make me feel a Princess.

Anyway, this guy’s smile grew even wider, if that was possible, and he blew me a kiss. I blushed slightly, especially that was so going in my train of thought. “That’s three,” I murmured very quietly to myself. Well, it wasn’t a kiss on the hand, but…

“Hey. You,” Royce said, standing and crossing his arms. He didn’t look happy, not one bit. “I think you owe someone an apology.” There were a number of his men—I think they were anyway—in green flight suits that looked similarly displeased. Nimue’s head jerked up towards Royce, and her mouth opened. She slowly shut it, and looked back and forth between Royce and the loud, brash, smiley man.

”You’ve been cussin’ in front of ladies, and you’re making yourself obnoxious,” Royce went on to say. “So why don’t you go deliver that apology, and make yourself scarce. Punk.”

Nimue’s eyes rounded in surprise. I don’t know what she was surprised about, though. “Please sir,” she said to Royce, “I assure you he has not offended me. I appreciate your effort, but it isn’t necessary.” She seemed to be pleading with Royce not to make a scene. I looked around us, but Art and Carl had stepped back and were quietly talking amongst themselves. Whatever it was they were talking about, it was interrupted shortly as Carl stepped forward again, fixing the other blond chap with a rather firm look.

I turned back to Nimue, and found she wasn’t there any longer. She seemed to be collecting her things to leave. I opened my mouth to say something, but was a bit too late.

Carl moved towards them, sort of intercepting them before they could leave. I investigated my empty glass again. It was still empty. I switched back to watching the confrontation. Nimue looked…apologetic, and wasn’t looking at Carl. It was like, well, that the blond smiley guy was her abusive husband or something.

“I thought we had a prior engagement this evening?” Carl asked Nimue, lightly and evenly. “Or would you rather another night, and go to Bombay’s?”

Nimue’s face tipped up towards Carl’s at that, her mouth opening as if to say something. Or maybe she was surprised. After a few moments, she said so quietly I could barely hear her, “I wish I could honor that agreement, Carl; but higher duty requires me to take my leave right now.” She glanced towards the big blond on whose arm she was on—when did that happen?—and continued on to Carl, “Perhaps another time, sir. Take my card, my mobile number is on it. You can call and we can re-arrange. I’ve had a lovely time.” She gave him a beautific smile, and I shook my head a bit. They were just too cute together.

Carl took the offered card, tucking it away in a pocket. He looked disappointed, but was trying to put on a brave face. “Does your mobile work cross-shadow?” he asked, sounding half-hearted.

“Usually,” Nimue assured him. “I should be in Ygg for the next while anyway. You can contact the Embassy if you can’t raise me directly, as I’ll be checking in there regularly for messages. I look forward to seeing you again.” I sighed to myself. Ah, well, he was just being polite to me. Shouldn’t be all… all… well, I just shouldn’t.

The blond hulk next to Nimue flashed his thousand-watt smile again, giving Carl a thumbs up, “Mecks Rule!” Oh, god, how crass.

“Not everywhere,” Carl said quietly. I blinked at the implied threat. That was certainly unlike this man…well, how would I know anyway? Have known him for all of an hour or two.

“Only for today,” the bruiser shot back, still grinning like a wolf. He turned and gave Nimue a lewd wink. “Tomorrow we will.”

Carl ignored him and reached into another pocket, pulling out a card, which he handed to Nimue. “Easier than calling a cab,” he commented. He looked back to the blond wolf, “Your mileage may vary,” he said cryptically. “Be careful of things in the potted plants at Bombay’s.”

Nimue took the card from him and examined it, trying not to smile. “Thank you, but I can assure you that this isn’t necessary. Haven is quite capable of taking care of it’s own.” She sounded happy or somewhat, and handed the card back to Carl.

Carl shook his head slightly, refusing it. “Just in case,” he stubbornly persisted, “like I said, easier than calling a cab.”

Nimue had already turned away, and was looking to the man whose arm she was on, “As for tomorrow, I wouldn’t worry about it until it arrives.” Carl stood there for a moment, watching them go.

“How are you liking school? " Art asked pleasantly, commanding my attention.

"I like school just fine," I replied, thankful for the distraction. "I'm just taking classes that interest me tho." I shrugged, "It's not like a degree from place to place carries or anything."

"Just the Magic's seem to carry over, and trump," Art agreed. "What classes are you taking?”

"Well," I began, warming up to one of my favorite subjects, "since my learnings and Haven's teachings agree--pretty much--on the relation between science and magic, I'm brushing up on my calculus, so Advanced Differential Equations firstly, then a bit of linear algebra, just to keep things fun. All that carries over into Theories of Quantum Physics, or whatever they call it there, since the basics of the regular sort of physics seems to be the same with what I'm familiar with--er, formulas all using the same letters and the like, that is." I sighed wistfully. "Oh, and then the basics of their magic theory, but I think I could do that in my sleep. Just, you know, sort of a warm up. Get back in the swing of things; just basic stuff in other words. But I find their campuses rather, hmm, nice, I guess I'd say. Dreadfully wonderful to be back in a place that actually values education. Most shadows I've been through, well, scholars keep to themselves."

"How do you explain the magical null zones and the 'magic's' of the powers in regards to their interaction with each other?" Art asked cheerfully, leaning forward a little bit in his interest.

"Physics, my good man," I chirped back at him. "Every place has a different set. As for people who make their own powers, they design what the place and power is going to be like. Whether they put conscious thought into what the actual laws of nature will be there or it's a general desire come to life when it's made, I don't know. But as for the regular shadows with no magic.." I shrugged, "just different physics, or laws of nature, or whathaveyou. I suppose each place would require a different explanation, unless there are a set of shadows that are closely related to each other and thus share the same laws...in which case a shadow by shadow comparison of the differences of the null magic zones would be not needed."

I paused for a breath, "For the powers interacting with each other? I don't know. I'm interested in that, since the greater powers set the framework for reality (from what I'm given to understand, anyway). But I haven't had time to study it all properly. It'd take decades, if not centuries, to get the bare bones of the math involved." I tapped my finger on my chin, thinking about the problem, "I could do it tho, and probably boil it down to only a handful of different formulas that would explain it all. To me anyway. It would take an awfully long time, I think." Mmmm…if there was some way to boil things down, that’d be wonderful. It’s awfully hard to have to derive the variables you need for spells every time you cross a shadow-border.

"That subject has interested me for awhile, but most of my research time is taken up with magics not the powers. That and most powers don't like people poking around in how they work. I keep expecting to find a gerbil on a treadmill and rubber bands," Art paused. "I would be interested in funding some research into that."

Just as I was about to open my mouth to blabber on some more, Carl said, “I don’t think you’ll even find a gerbil…just a melt down of most of what you think physics is just like; the interface to a black hole’s singularity.” My attention became riveted to Carl as he went on, “It seems that at least during creation that the laws as defined neatly by equations…after all Quantum is the invisible glue that holds the universe together…goes south in very undefined ways. I know I wasn’t worried about this equation or that equation when I started walking.”

He paused, taking a drink of his shake through his straw, "As for how it works, I haven't peered that deep. I can tell you it's interesting as it gains mass and power and whatever, it grows from within like a balloon being blown up...then finally hits a sort of critical mass. Along the way there's certain plateaus... and it's strange each time you get there. For awhile my sleep was loused up really badly, with the 'growing pains...' " Carl sighed. "I don't know how Art fared. For me it was a long time coming."

"Interesting," I replied, a thousand thoughts racing through my head. "If you two wouldn't mind at some point, I'd like to talk to you both about that, what went into it, how it was done--er, theory, of course. I don't think I would do anything like that. Creating part of reality that is."

"Any time just not in public," Art replied gamely.

"There are as many reasons for creating as there are Creations," Carl stated. "Art here had totally different things driving him to than I did I'm sure..."

I turned back to Art, to address him on his generous offer, "If you're interested in funding some research, I'd be definitely interested in trying to boil it all down, see what connections there are from shadow to shadow influenced by any particular greater power--though I suppose Amber would have to wait for a bit, since it's off limits now." I paused, "And it wouldn't be 'poking around'. Just some careful observations. It would take a monstrously long time, however."

"Being immortal we have time, so yes I'll fund the research. Personally I prefer the Logrus side of thing, but we can get the terms etc. down at a later date," Art smiled.

"Well, we're not likely to die from natural causes anytime soon," I agreed. "Logrus hmm? What's that like? I've only heard a bit about it, very sketchy information."

"Three dimensional, and drives you mad to traverse it," Carl filled in. "One of my nieces took initiation in it."

"Not as clean as the other powers from what I heard, plus the spell augmentations are cool. Logruii seem to be more for spell throwers at lower levels, with someone like Suhuy is way coolness chucking spells," Art supplied.

Carl smiled thinly. "Lord Mandor is no slouch either from what I've heard...and at least he is very gracious before he fries you to a cinder."

Carl dug in a pocket and offered me a business card. "The University of Danji, in Inverness. Go visit. They'd like a thinker and tinker like you around. There's lots of research to be had.."

"Certainly," I said, taking the card without glancing at it and putting it in my back pocket. "I'd love to check the place out, exchange some ideas.." I smiled, "Thank you for the invite."

"If I didn't invite you, I'd be derelict in several things...." Carl said, sounding like he was having trouble getting words out. And, guess what? He blushed.

"What things?" I asked, wondering what set off his blush this time. "Good manners and the like?"

"Promoting the ol' farmstead." Carl managed. "The ministers like me to be pro-home-turf...." he paused. "..and other things."

"Ah," I said blithely, "Propaganda. Good public relations. I can see that." I paused. That’s not what he meant. At least, I didn’t think that was all he meant, so I asked, "What other things?"

"Um..." Carl suddenly grew very interested in the tent roof. "...civility, public service, promoting general welfare, ah...chivalry...and um..."

"Oh...those kinds of things," I said, nodding. "I see what you mean now." I smiled at him, "Just being nice and all."

"And knowing a good thing..." Carl added quickly. "..after all you seem to be a perfect research person..." His blush grew ferocious in its intensity.

"Thank you," I responded, resisting the sudden urge to pinch his cheek. Or to kiss it. Or ah…

"Are you planning on studying in other powers?” Art kindly interrupted before I starting staring at Carl.

"Are you talking about the greater powers, or just in general other avenues of magical expression?" I asked. "As for the greater powers, I am an adept of the Amber Pattern, but that's about all. Haven't had much time to tinker with that yet, and work out the nuances in using it." As I mentioned Amber’s Pattern, Art grimaced a little. Curious.

"Mostly magics in other lands. Their are subtle differences in like Trinity and Haven magics,” he replied.

"I've had Amber, Rebma..the old Rebma..and Umbria." Carl offered, his color back to normal. "The nuances were very subtle in those, but they were mostly off the one Dworkin did, then redid. Which any of us of the family can hike." he paused. "The difference is amongst the next generation Powers, that were scribed by different family members...for example, Twister and Haven. That one is so closely tied to the psyche of its Creator, it's said one must have a degree in Psychology and keep an eye on Kelric to be able to accurately forecast the weather there." Carl shrugged nonchalantly. "Others are less directly intertwined...and some were made with Magic as part of their foundation, some are not...and even as you go amongst the different areas of the same creation, the amount of ...Magic versus Tech varies a great deal," he paused again. Once again, I was rapt. At that moment, the tent could have blown up and I wouldn’t have noticed…and not just because he was talking about a fascinating subject. Though, to be fair, that was the majority of it. "Only Great Grandfather Dworkin _might_ have some idea of the inner tinkerings, the clockworks and skunkworks, within a Creation. What keeps the Celestial Spheres turning...." Carl shrugged again. "You'll be hampered by not being able to take an attunement to most of the independent Creations because of your lineage. So at best you can observe from the outside not immersed."

"I'll have to talk to Dworkin at some point then," I said matter-of-factly. I switched back to Art, "But to answer your question, Art, yes, I'm always interested in other ways of expressing myself magically."

"I can help there too, Charlieberg is Trinity's number one magics school , and Empire University in ImA is my number one magics school. I can get you into both,” Art offered.

"Excellent," I smiled. This was wonderful…two grants to study what I wanted to study. Two grants to peer into the corners of the universe and figure out how everything worked. Somehow, I felt like this was what I made for. Would have to work out a tenable schedule, however, and… oh. Yes. Ygg. I sighed, my smile fading. "Uh, after this Ygg thing, of course. Wouldn't want to abandon anyone in their hour of need."

"Something can be arranged , I'm sure," Art said, his smiling growing bigger as mine fell.

"Of course. I'll let the Dean know you'll be dropping by after, and he can set up your meeting with the department faculty you'll be working with," Carl replied smoothly, a bit pink. "They can handle the grant and fellowship so you can just roll up your sleeves and get to work.

”Time is on your side, after all, you're family.”

I nodded, "Unless something unforeseen happens, of course." There was a few seconds of silence while I absorbed all this, my buoyant feeling flooding back. “Wonderful!” I exclaimed, clapping my hands together. “This will be such fun,” I told them both. “Thank you so much.”

"There's some other folks out there that are throwing serious money at magical research," Royce chipped in suddenly, from where he was sitting listening to us three. "Though they're less pure and more applied research types. Still, from my limited understanding, I understand that they're putting some pretty impressive facilities together. The research groups are crash programs, so they're looking for young and aggressive talent."

Spike hissed at Royce loudly. I was a bit taken aback by that.

"Maybe you should go away before I remember Dad has a warrant out for your scalp. After all Carl is having a nice party I would hate to ruin it with your blood all over the place. " Art stated in a cold voice. Shivers ran down my back, suddenly. You know that feeling that you get when something bad is about to happen? That’s the feeling I got. I shifted uneasily.

Royce looked bored. Must be able to handle himself if he was so calm about it, so I made myself relax.

"As an individual serving in forces allied to Haven and currently under Haven command, and as an individual on assignment to Haven Occupation Force, Ygg (Headquarters), I fall under the protection of various terms of treaties signed between Haven and Mecklenberg," Royce said, sounding as if it were rehearsed. "Please forward any extradition requests to the Haven Occupation Force, Ygg (Headquarters) or my liege lord, His Royal Majesty Merlin, by the grace of God king of America."

Art turned a cold shoulder to Royce, "Spike only acts this way when Jeddi or other felons get this close, Royce seems to think being a coward, and an abuser of young Mecklenberg members is proper behavior. I'd watch your back around him when the fur starts to fly he'll probably turn you over to Caine to save his butt. Not a fun time I hear.” I didn’t know what to say. I wanted to stand up for Royce, but I didn’t know him even though he was my brother. Royce seemed to be taking this all rather calmly, merely turning back to his food.

"Shall I tell them on or off campus housing?" Carl said here, getting my attention away from Art and Royce.

"Probably off-campus," I replied, matter-of-factly, pushing the sort-of-but-not-really-confrontation out of my mind. "Dorm rooms, if I remember right, were always so small. And I'd feel rather stupid there--out of touch. The ultimate non-trad."

"Somehow I don't think anyone can think you're stupid," Art smiled.

I returned the smile, feeling a little shy, "It happens more often than you'd think."

"Depends on the University , some have condominiums for dorm rooms , also depends on what your will to spend," Art smiled.

"This would be part of the fellowship." Carl stated.

"Yup I'll probably throw in a fully staffed palace in ImA, I haven't been to Charlieberg in awhile so probably a small palace,” Art returned.

"She'll get lost..." Carl complained with a cheesy smile back at Art. "An upscale condo just off campus with housekeeping once or twice a week to keep the cobwebs hacked down..."

I could only look back and forth between them, not being able to get a word in edgewise. They were utterly serious about this! Several times I tried to open my mouth to tell them I was intent on doing both, but they were going back and forth too fast.

"Imperial Amerika is way hands off, many flavor ice cream, Chicago style pizza and other things and way less sexist then most of creation,” Art was saying.

Carl smiled slightly. "Compared to Haven, and to the consternation of Kelric, Danji allows women in the military; that's about as non sexist as I can think. If they can meet the requirements and want to eat Meals Rejected by the Enemy and sleep in mud, they may do so." Carl eyed around him carefully as he continues to speak. "..and a goodly number of them could tie me up in a knot too..." he grins after.

I shook my head, disagreeing, "Bah, everyone's sexist. Or lookist. Or racist, or whatever you want to call it. You meet a person and they form an opinion. That opinion will rarely be changed over time, only modified."

Carl paused. He looked…hurt. Great. When I finally did get something to say, it was the wrong thing. Wonderful. "uh..well, I am sorry that I've crossed over onto your toes..." he said quietly and evenly. He rose from the table with a most polite nod to me.

My heart squeezed a little bit there. “Carl…” I said, trying to stop him from leaving. Too late. He went to the bar. I followed after a little bit. He turned to look at me, and I just about stepped back. Didn’t though.

“Things will be arranged for you at the University for whenever you arrive,” he said tonelessly. Squeeze. He nodded at me politely. Squeeze. He turned away and went to another drink table. Squeeze.

I followed. Never let it be said that I am not persistent.

“Carl,” I tried again, trailing after him like a puppy dog. “I didn’t mean it that way…I was just trying to say that everyone forms an opinion. You know…” It wasn’t going well from the look on his face. “…first impressions and all…” Not well at all. “…from looks…” Still no expression. Say something! “…uh…” Something else. “…You didn’t step on my feet or anything.”

He looked at me for a long moment. I almost turned and went when his gaze shifted to my feet. Slowly, he lifted one of his own a few inches, showing the combat boot on his foot. “…I…could fix that…” he said quietly, a slight questioning tone to his voice.

What in the hell was he talking about? I waited, getting confused and upset.

After a few more seconds, he lowered his foot again, looking back up to me. He had beautiful eyes; they were fixed on mine with a serious expression. “Can I buy you one?” he asked, glancing to his glass briefly then back to me.

I nodded slowly; he seemed to have forgiven me. I think. “Sure,” I said, trying a smile, “Since you’re buying anyway…has anyone thanked you for hosting this yet? If not, well, thanks.”

He nodded, blushing just a little. “You’re welcome. Morale in the field is important, so, an excuse to goof off goofin’ off.” He smiled at me slightly, and I felt myself relax. Forgiven, definitely. “And the name of your poison du jour is?”

I smiled, feeling much better, “Uh, scotch, neat.”

He looked to the waiter, who was already pouring my drink for me. It was handed to Carl, who handed it to me. “Probably single malt,” he warned. “Take a load off again?”

I looked at my drink, then looked back to Carl, “I’ve lived with worse, I’m sure.” I knocked back about half of it, letting it roll around my tongue for a second. Not bad. “Single malt,” I said, half-jokingly, “I’d bet my life on it.”

"Don't. I'm lucky to have a good stash." He told me, leading us back over to the table slowly. "So I hear you're one of the student crowd. What shall you do after you plaster the walls with diplomas?"

"Not much of anything," I admitted, "I've already got a wall full of them, if I wanted, I guess. It's not the achievement of getting that bit of paper that I like about learning. It's just learning itself." I shrugged, "Not that much of it is very useful in day-to-day life, but it keeps me occupied."

"Well you either need to melt back into the dusty books, or come on out and live life. Since you're family, Creation is your oyster. So onward and upwards." Carl lifted his glass to that.

I raised my glass as well, “Further on and further in.”

He was about to drink when I said what was really a common toast from my university way back when. His eyes got big, and his cheeks bulged out as he tried stop swallowing without spraying his drink everywhere. When he finally got it all down, he was a bright, vivid scarlet. After a few moments of him trying to talk, he managed to get out, “You owe me for not going there…you really owe me…” He took a cautious drink then, his eyes still on me.

I blinked, confused. I was missing something. “Uh…” I said intelligently. Try that again. “Um, that’s a rather normal toast from where I’m from. ‘Further on’ means to go further on in the pursuit of knowledge, and ‘further in’ the search for self-awareness.” I blinked at him again, still wondering why he was so red.

His blush wasn’t fading any time soon. “I am so sorry, but I’m still recovering from a Palantir Popcorn and Poker night, and haven’t quite got out of it.” His face went even darker, “It um…nevermind. To what you said.” He took another drink, avoiding looking at me for some reason.

I took another slow drink of my scotch, but was still bloody confused.

Carl swallowed more, then leaned back. "If you have a Great Power, you get a Palantir. Which allows you to do all sorts of nifty things, spy on things, look things up from the past, and so on. Amongst some of the creators, having a night of the equivalent of 'Monday Night Football' around the palantir with a few favored friends is not unusual. I hosted one as my turn finally, and it got rude, crude, and very very late." Carl adopted a 'hit between the eyes with a bat look' and crossed his eyes. "Still dragging a little."

Still confused, I smiled at him vaguely and nodded.

"I'll still make the arrangements." Carl offered.

"That would be appreciated," I acknowledged, turning my smile to him.

"By the time you get there then, they should have everything together and reserved for you," Carl promised. “The College of Magics at Danji have vatloads on the Harmony/Mandala magics, which directly influenced Inverness.... remember Inverness started out moored to Harmony.... and there are distinct and traceable influences of it on the creation and growth of Inverness. And when the two parted moorings...there are some pockets of Harmony pretty much untouched, bubbles, held and nurtured by Inverness. Inverness gave too, and some pieces were taken by Harmony when it drifted." Carl paused. "And Trinity is right in front of me; figuratively, and Imperial Amerika is behind that. So if you start from my side and work your way across, you would be able to possibly chart differences...” Carl shrugged. "And the U of D could always use some more fellowships for hardcore research..."

"Charlieberg and EU have access to many more. Plus some Ancient magics,” Art interjected.

I nodded, trying to absorb everything, "I will. Er, ask there, that is. Gotta have a place to start and all." I favored them both with my best smile, "You two are so, well, generous. Nice, even."

Carl smiled back. He looked happy, almost ecstatic. He glanced at Art, sharing his smile around too, then back to me, “Creators have deep pockets…and you seem well suited to and interested in the concept…”

"Plus in each power tons of mysteries that the powers hides from the creators," Art added with a smile of his own.

"Really?" I asked. "The power hides things from you guys?" I raised a brow, skeptically. "You mean they're all sentient?"

"Yup in a way, they seem to be the personalities from past lives reasserting themselves," Art answered "and they do hide things, whether for my own good or his.

"Fascinating," I murmured.

"You'll have to meet Herbie to understand completely," Art offered.

Carl shook his head ‘no’ thoughtfully. "More like you do not know all the things in the dark corners, musty sideways, and unused corridors of your own mind. It's like your mind in 3-D, that you can wander through.... it lives just like it's creator is living, and it has many facets and layers just like the living mind. It is a separate entity, and that shows by the Avatar's manifestation."

"Very interesting," I remarked. That would be a helluva hard way to get psychoanalyzed, that’s for sure. "Gosh,” I said, “I don't think it'd be very fun to see what sort of things a person has in their heads like that. Kind of, uh, exposed."

"Sometimes also it can let you get to know someone rather well, and yourself to seeing all the demons in your mind then kicking their ass. Rather peaceful," Art observed.

"From what I've heard, some creations, you don't go wandering very far," Carl replied. "In most, there is sort of the primal, where the real and true pattern or what have you is inscribed. This is usually locked down very tight by the creator, as anybody with a nosebleed can mess things up very badly." He paused. I was quickly starting to stare again. However, it is hard to be polite and not stare when someone’s talking. "The first reflection, is what's usually considered to be the primary shadow, and has a full copy of the pattern or such in it. Then there's about nine or ten more, ringing or surrounding that, and fairly safe and sane too...sorta. Depends on who did the creation..." Carl paused again. "Then, as it grows, the creation sort of expands out more or less spherically, with that as its core. It gains size, and the farther away from the center things are, the wilder it gets. Until you finally have the mass in hyperoid space where you can wander and find any possible thing you can imagine. Before that you're more doing the 'impose your will on shadow' and after, you're subtly slipping the shadow boundaries." Carl sighed. "Now why are we talking brain bending physics, even in layman's terms...when we're supposed to be relaxing?" he ended lightly.

"I'm relaxed " Art smiled "You relaxed?” he asked Spike.

"Yup I'm relaxed " Spike answered, "You relaxed Lucy? This one,” the small dragon pointed at Art, “rather enjoys the theories and the What Ifs. What if certain people died, you gave the south AK-47s in the civil war, Captain America stayed frozen until the 80s, and What if Buffy married Xander. Highly thought provoking stuff. "

"She should've," Carl commented.

Art smiled, "I preferred Riley; reminds me of me."

"I've always been a big Spike fan, myself," I admitted. Glad to know some things were universal, like certain television shows. “Oh!” I said, laughing a little, “At least she's not with all angsty Angel anymore, thank all gods above and below for that one..." I stuck out my tongue and gagged, aiming for ‘comic’ rather than ‘gross’, "If I had to hear him complain one more time about how they couldn't be together because he was all broody and cursed, I would have puked, I swear!"

"Did you see Spike's monolog about Angel in his show I laughed my ass off. 'Giant poofer getting all worked up and not able to satisfy without loosing his soul. Spike had all the good lines," Art chuckled.

I laughed again, "The one that goes, 'I'm just a biiiiiig fluffy puppy with bad teeth...'?" I grinned; that was a favorite episode of mine.

"Yea that one," Art grinned. "The chip in his head was not a bad idea. The best idea was he could hit demons."

I turned back to Carl, rolling my eyes slightly, “See, this is relaxing, Carl…well, at least to me.” I grinned at him, “However, we can change the subject if you like.”

He sighed, “I bet you read the list of ingredients on the cereal boxes in the morning as absorbing reading…” He smiled back at me.

“Well…” I said, my grin growing even wider. “Only if it’s a different cereal box every morning. The same one over and over again would get boring.”

Carl shook his head, grin firmly in place, “Oh, geeze. That much of that sugar bomb stuff, you’d be around the light fixtures wired for the day. Just add a couple cups of coffee and you wouldn’t go to sleep until three…the next week.”

“That has been known to happen on occasion,” I replied, still grinning. “And now shall we discuss your breakfast habits?”

“Most days, I rise early, prepare myself a pork chop or small steak and some eggs, and wash it down with lots of orange juice,” Carl replied, his grin fading into a neutral expression. “Some days it’s poached eggs with hollandaise sauce, English muffins, and bacon…or pancakes and sausage patties. And once or twice a week I am too busy, so breakfast is sent up from one of the restaurants in the Gallery.”

I nodded, my grin fading into a softer smile as I listened. “I thought that it would be a good, hearty breakfast,” I said, pausing while I considered asking him to make me breakfast. Don’t think that would go over well, but before my mind could catch up with my mouth, I was saying, “Someday, we’ll have to have a breakfast date, er, meeting,” clever change there, Lucy, hardly noticeable, “or something.”

Carl raised an eyebrow at me, “You’re signing up for a pass at a kitchen sink omelet with diablo sauce?” He blushed faintly, but was smirking too.

“Sure,” I chirped in reply, smiling a bit idiotically. “I’ll try almost anything once, twice if I like it. And it can’t be all that bad. I mean, it’s food, isn’t it?”

"I cooked it..." Carl ominized, grinning and blushing a bit more.

"Well," I responded, "I guess we'll just have to see how it goes then, hmm? And if it's that bad, I can make us some Frosted Chocolatey-O's (tm)."

"I think you'll have a problem as I don't think there's any of those in the pantry." Carl replied. "And the corner mart is over fifteen blocks..."

"Well, silly," I said, "that's only a last resort sort of thing, in case your cooking is awful. Of course, it can't be worse than mine. If it's not nukeable, I can't cook it."

Carl snorted. "Nukomats are for warming up your coffee or last night's pizza. That's it."

"Like I said," I replied, my grin coming back, "If it's not nukeable, I can't cook it."

"Sounds like my niece then, she burns toast," Carl snorted again. "When you're good and hungry, you learn to cook."

A momentary lull ensued while we kinda, uh, stared at each other for a moment. I almost started to blush—I could feel my ears getting a bit hot anyway—when he changed the subject back to what we were talking about before, sorta.

"I think a lifetime study could just be made on the quirks and habits and peculiarities of the Avatar, myself," Carl said, getting our conversation back to a, uh, safer topic. "That's one thing that the Power seems NOT to hide..." and he rolls his eyes afterwards.

"Something else they don't hide well are the evil doubles. I haven't seen yours yet through," Art stated. "Or am I just blessed that mine enjoys making my life difficult?”

"Mine looks like an older black haired version of me. You can't mistake us unless he's using magic. Rey Fortuna, and he's been poking around enough to keep me occupied," Carl filled in. "Not like Mordred and Cat, who had sexual opposites. I met both of theirs and neither one was a picnic."

"Evil doubles?" I asked, a brow rising in question. "Is this like some bad 40's film noire?"

Art smiled, "I wish. My evil double is a past life from Atlantis. He looks like me but meaner. He enjoys all the dark aspects and has little morals except 'what's in it for him. His name is Kurtz.

"The powers in between Logrus and Pattern pop out the doubles. No doubles of Corwin, Brand, or Oberon running around. Kelric Red Wolf and Kelric White wolf are similar with White Wolf having a harder edge and not as nice. Reinhart and Rainier are almost complete opposites. Rainier believes women only have 4 purposes. Reinhart is way more open-minded. Rainier hates Reinhart's wife etc. But I still call them dad.

"They set up the rules when Trinity was made. Can only be in Avatar form in each other’s territory and so on.”

I nodded, "Ok. I see. So, more like personality opposites. Or maybe not opposites. Maybe more like a reflection. Some similarities, but all backwards." Fascinating aspects to this that I hadn’t considered or known about before. All sorts of things were coming out.

"That's a good way of looking at it. If you get a chance try and meet both sets sometime of creators sometime but bring a legion with you when you go to see the evil one," Art smirked.

I smirked back to him, "Yes, but how do you tell which ones the evil one?"

"You can tell I'm not my evil twin Skippy." Carl began. "As he reeks of magic no matter what...and he can't blush if he tried, I think..."

I grinned, laughing a bit, "Can't be nearly as charming as you then."

Carl turned neon It was a red with tinges of violet. He looked around and shifted his weight and tried to ride it out. He finally put elbows on the table, rested chin in hands, shut his eyes and let it settle.

I sighed, in an exaggerated way to take the sting out of it, “I can’t help it, Carl. I’m not trying to make you blush.”

“…I know you’re not…” he muttered, still not showing his face.

I kept smiling, the smile definitely stretching into idiotic grin territory. He was so damn cute. No, that wasn’t the word…he was handsome. Well, maybe that wasn’t it either. Ah, hell. No time to get caught up in stuff like this, Lucy my girl.

I couldn’t stop smiling though. “I mean,” I went on to say, “it’s like, well, you’re making me want to banter, and gosh, even flirt a little you’ve put me in that good of a mood.” I nudged him gently. He grunted noncommittally at me. “I’ll try to stop if it makes you super uncomfortable. I can glower, here,” I continued babbling, “see…” I scowled at him, making it exaggerated and silly looking. “Grr…” I growled, trying not to smile.

He looked up at me, uttering ‘eyipe’ in a high-pitched voice. He was still blushing, but going along with my poor joke. So hard to find someone to kid around with. He pulled out a chocolate bar, and offered it out to me as a sacrifice with trembling hands. His eyes were very wide, and very green… “…here…here’s the chocolate…nobody has to get hurt…honest…I’m sorry…” he said in a little breathless voice. One last intake of breath, then he held it, waiting for me to take it.

“Grrr…” I mock-growled at him again, swiping the chocolate. I turned my eyes to the chocolate, then back to Carl, “Ok. You get to live this time…” I couldn’t hold the scowl anymore and started grinning again.

Carl let out his breath with a sigh of relief. “Look,” he said by way of explanation, “I’ve learned over the years when a female over six looks like that, just turn over the chocolate, say you’re sorry anyway, and ducks.” His blush turned a deeper color, but he shared my grin with me.

I dropped him a wink, “Never underestimate the power of chocolate; that’s what I say.”

His face turned even redder, “Plying women with chocolate has not done me wrong…”

Art, who must have been watching this with some amusement, grinned. “The good guys wear black. Or, in my case, grey or purple. Bad guys wear white.” There was a slight pause, “Or if dad pinches you on the ass, that’s Rainier.” His grin turned into a smirk.

I laughed, “I’ll be sure to guard my rear then.”

“It could be that Corwin, Oberon, and Brand absorbed theirs. Like Pier did,” Carl pointed out, his blush fading. “Some choose to do that.” He paused, collecting his thoughts, “I would consider Rey a sort of demi-brother that is a much, much darker type of me. He doesn’t blush at least…” He shrugged a little.

“Aw,” I said, “I’m kinda starting to like your blush.” I gave him a big cheesy grin, teasing him a little bit. I probably shouldn’t be, but it was hard to resist. He didn’t disappoint me, and turned a nice dark red.

“…and he’s one I would not like to meet in a dark alley,” he said, shrugging again and trying to change the subject. “A gift of laying a Pattern, the mixed blessing bag you get.”

My grin faded as I nodded, “Well, you have to take the good with the bad.”

Carl nodded, not commenting on the strange way I put that. My lips twitched, trying to smile again. I squashed that, trying to listen to him. “It certainly is something to think about before doing the deed. Plus, unless you’re Great Grandfather or Grandfather now-days, there’s a problem with the multiverse not having space. You end up with not a lot that takes time…if you’re lucky, to hit critical mass. So you create, and have all the disadvantages, and are a sitting duck for the big boys until then. A far cry from how Uncle Corwin did it.”

Interesting. “Hmm,” I replied thoughtfully. “Quite a quandary there—reality that’s almost by-book definition ‘infinity’ running out of space.”

“It’s more like the barriers don’t stretch like they used to, more pressure causes them to move more slowly,” he elaborated. “The Non-infinity is being pushed on more and more…it still does give though, and the barriers move back.”

“Ok,” I said nodding. “I suppose it’s something that those people deeply connected to the higher powers would be able to see/feel/whathaveyou. I’ll take your word for it.” I desperately wanted some way to understand in a more thorough way what he was talking about. It was like…describing colors to someone who’s never seen before, and was deaf besides. I didn’t have the facilities to fully understand what he was saying; only getting a brief sort of glimpse here and there. Utterly frustrating.

Art gave Carl a confused look, “There’s tons of space in the Abyss. By Creating you civilize the Abyss and drive back the Hags and other Abyss baddies. It is a goal to deprive them of their land. That is why they try and stop Creations from being drawn, and try and kill us. That, and we’re batteries to them, redheads being the best for them.”

“It doesn’t stretch quite the way it used to. Like the more you compress things…the harder it is to push,” Carl replied. “It’s taken care and dedication of watching my borders and riding herd on a few things, for Inverness to reach ‘fully grown’.”

I blinked, a few times. “Uh…” I started, “Abyss hags? We’re batteries to them? Mind filling me in here a bit?” I asked. “You know…babe in the woods here still, and all that.”

Carl sighed, “Two words: bad news. Six words: Don’t do ANYTHING with them EVER.” He shook his head, grimacing a little, “They’re some of the worst denizens of the Abyss…which is really strange in it’s own way.” One more shake, “You don’t ever want to associate with them, period.”

"Abyss Hag are some of the citizens of the Abyss,” Art supplemented. “They’re both beautiful and ugly. Their women who like killing—sacrificing—male members of royal blood blondes and redheads. They have 4 major holidays Halloween is the one coming up, then every 3 months after. They like to hunt us; redheads give them to best power for their purposes. But Blondes do similar power for them.

"When someone creates the hags are drawn to the power and they try and kill the creator. You can deal with them by giving them blood to keep them busy or kill them as they charge.

"Did you see that mass execution Oberon did 3 months ago? That was a sacrifice to the Abyss. Oberon forces his kids to give up a redheaded kid for his power Abyss rituals. Which is why Finndo, Osric, Dalt, Delwin, Sand and Mecklenbergs fight Oberon. We all lost kids to the Abyss and Oberon. Along with Swayville and most of Chaos. And why Dad has some rather choice words for the others at times.

"Caine is Oberon’s chief kidnaper and sacrificer and Caine has cut some type of deal with the Abyss which allows him to cheat death. Both Paolo and Uncle Tiberius have killed him.

"Your safe, although they may try and convert you. I can fill you in on some of their magics but not in public.

"Sort of went long on that did it help or hurt?" Art smiled, nonchalantly.

I was horrified. Absolutely. It must have shown on my face. That was perhaps the worst perversion…the worst offense against…well… everything. “Why in the name of everything holy are they still around then?” I asked, aghast. “I can’t believe…and members of our family feed people to them?” I shook my head, not being able to comprehend this. It was totally alien to me.

"Power corrupts. Absolute power corrupts absolutely," Carl said quietly. "After some of the family have been around for centuries, they play the game to their own warped rules."

"Popular theory in Trinity is because in general they’re cowards too interested in maintaining status quo, not wanting to rock the boat," Art replied. "As a matter of theory my scientists theorize that existent can be compared to a large football stadium like the Metro Dome and each power is the size of a pin head. We're way out numbered and the Abyss is hostile to us. But real space is hostile to them and their generally weaker then us. So it balances out.

"Also some people have a tough time accepting the truth. Most people are in a state of denial about it and Oberon. And are waiting until it becomes their problem by then it will be too late,” Art finished.

"But that's just wrong," I blurted out, still horrified by the very idea. "Don't they know that?"

"And they don't care," Carl said evenly but firmly. "There's a large number of the family that you would not even have this sort of discussion with. You don't go up to them and even try to breach the subject. If you do you'll be next, and they have no qualms whatsoever. Remember that." Carl bit off the last two words.

I nodded dumbly because there was no other thing I could do at that time. "Most of them are so old, and advanced, and entrenched that you have no hope of going against them,” Carl went on to say. “Technically I might now that I have a GP at my back, and I don't think I could even get close to some of them. About all I could manage is the 'last great act of defiance' as I met a pretty nasty end." He paused again. "It'd be nice to have a pretty teddy bear and violets trans creation and it's not going to happen."

"It's disgusting," I said vehemently. I felt dirty just thinking about it. "Absolutely.”

Carl just nodded.

"And you needn't worry about me starting conversations with 'Made any sacrifices lately?'" I added. "I may be a bit, um, curious, but even I'm not quite that curious."

"Gooood," Carl intoned. "There are some that have, much to their painful and short detriment."

"Then their are people like my family that has always fought, because they had to or wanted to. Even with nothing, no one, or a chance backing them yet still manage to not do to bad," Art smiled, looking proud of that fact.

"Then good for you, Art!" I said, bloody glad that someone was doing something about these beasts. "Nice to know that with such terrible practices out there, there are also people willing to try to stop them."

"Someone has to try. Must be my Minnesota values shining through," Art replied, trying to sound modest and failing a little.

"Some are better at the arts of war too; I’m not and I know it,” Carl replied. “And some have better allies and family connections. I’m not of a well-renowned bloodline, or highly placed in anyone’s book. I’m suddenly much more acceptable in some circles only because I have a GP.” He paused for a moment, “I was there for Ersatz Sable Paving and the Pattterncrash. Neither one of those was very fun.”

Carl drank a little of his drink at hand. "I know the diversion I left out they didn't like much, I'd eaten enough habaneros I think I'm still pickled inside..." he grinned. "And the borders are on 'high hag annihilation mode'...and as for redheads, sorry, I don't think I qualify. I do feel sorry for a few of the family thusly cursed at that time of the year, and a few others you sorta have to root for the other side over...."

He might have said more, but a slim built woman with long red hair and blue eyes approached us. She walked up to Art, and gave him a huge hug, “Hey, where have you been?”

“Hey, LJ, how are you?” Art asked, giving her a hug back, then releasing her. “Your Dad will want to see you, now that you’re in shadow. Maybe you can cheer him and Tabby up. He hasn’t been able to find any clues on your mom or Uncle Charlie yet.”

A wave of sadness washed over her face, “I miss my Mom.” I looked away for a moment; a look of grief like that deserves privacy. “Tabitha isn’t doing very well either,” LJ went on to say. I turned back to listen. “She just sort of wanders around the shell that used to be her palace.” My sister, I thought to myself. Poor girl.

Spike interrupted the sad talk though, “Hey. How you doing? How’s Helga?”

LJ rubbed Spike’s head, “I am ok. A bit lonely…though.” She dropped a very obvious wink at Art. “I haven’t seen Helga in a while. She sort of flew off.”

Now she turned her attention to me, narrowing her eyes. “Hello. I am LJ. And you are?” The tone was clipped, precise. Ok…don’t mess with Art. Taken. Check.

“Uh, nobody, I guess,” I replies, frowning and scooting away from her in my seat. “But my name’s Lucretia, but you can call me Lucy if you want.”

She smiled at me. Evidentally, I was no competition. Fine with me. “Okay, I will call you Lucy. My proper name is Jasra, but everyone calls me LJ.”

She looked at Art, giving him one of those looks again… then she turned to me once more. “So,” she said, “What are you and my favorite guy up to?”

“Just talking,” I assured her. “Uh, socializing, and all.”

A brow rose, twitching slightly. “What kind of socializing?” she asked.

“Like I said,” I replied, close but not quite babbling, “talking. Chatting. Conversing. Sharing ideas and words. That sort of thing. Art and Carl are full of fascinating information.”

She laughed, huskily, “Yeah, I just bet they are.”

Carl put his drink down, and looked at Art. He looked back to LJ and I, “And here I thought we were full of BS up to…” he indicated just below his eyes by touching his index finger there, “…we’re just a quart low because our eyes aren’t brown…” He blushed a bit, but I grinned. I would have swooned for him for that one, just for taking her attention off of me.

“It’s been a long time since I have seen you, Carl,” LJ said to him. “Glad to see that you still have your sense of humor.”

"Nobody's stuffed me in a blue crystal sack and invited me to a trim-party lately, so I guess that would make one in better moods," Carl smiled "You've grown, long time..."

She burst out laughing, "Yeah, it has...I had some things I had to deal with but I am back. And it feels good."

"Guess that's all that matters then. Help yourself to the grub and get something to drink and set a spell already?" Carl reeled off.

Since the attention was off me again, I turned my back on them to let them talk in a semblance of privacy. There were a lot of currents here that I wasn’t reading quite right. I’d swear Art was hitting on me, but yet this woman appeared out of nowhere and laid proprietary claim on him. I’d swear, also, that Nimue and Carl had the whole sparkage thing going on too, but then she left with that blond with the thousand-watt smile. And then Carl hit on me. Like, a lot. I shoved the remainder of my food around my plate, looking around for Royce, but he had already gone when we weren’t looking. Probably bored him to tears. And then…family. Real family. I had some. Brother, sister, father and mother. It was a peculiar feeling, like I belonged to someone, to someplace. I was getting rather used to being, well, free. Blowing around in the wind like a dandelion seed. Would be nice to put down roots somewhere, have someone to come home to again. Definitely had to think about that, about establishing a real connection with my, uh, immediate relatives. Don’t know…maybe semi-permanent roots. I think I’d bore myself silly if I stayed in one place for too long. Ok, so that would take a while, granted, but it’d still happen. Why, I might even…

Carl resumed speaking again, about the topics we were on before. My attention got snapped to him again. I did note, however, that LJ had gone. “…effects is you get a double,” Carl was saying, “like a sort of pattern ghost. This is a manifestation of the pattern or Logrus or hybrid inscribed. It is you, but more like your mirror opposite. It’s independent, and after a time it can leave the creation too.” Carl sighed, “Along with being worshipped...and some of that can get pretty far out...this is one thing one SHOULD consider for a long long LONG time on the way to inscribing a pattern. I sure did. It was about the major thing that almost stopped me from doing it, what would I let loose? I know some of the others were able to control it more, and Piers as I recall sort of absorbed his into himself." He shook his head, "You could tell at times he was being torn apart internally, warring with it."

"Really?" I said, in some astonishment. "That sounds, er, trying."

"That was more than I could take on, so. I'd rather be me and deal with his antics, than have my double between my ears and a continual fight between the good and evil going on," Carl shook his head slightly. "Ches had his on the loose, and Jack was a mean one."

"He was overrated, I ran into him when he was trying to take over the Jeddi, all flash no substance," Art replied nonchalantly.

"Depends on if magic is your friend or not," Carl told Art. "Back then, I wasn't on speaking terms with it, and I had to pluck Tomas out of his grip...right after he walked the pattern the first time." Carl shook his head. "...mess..." he muttered to himself, looking lost in thought.

"Is it that clear cut?" I interrupted. "Good versus evil?"

"No. Unless you're inherently an evil overlord that goes around ripping the wings off flies when you have a minute, the opposite tends to be the baddie," Carl replied. "That's a great oversimplification, but close, the good versus evil. In my case the nether regions of my psyche that I normally don't want to go visiting is what Rey got in bucketloads," he shrugged.

"You have George right? Big blue fur ball?" Art asked suddenly. "I have a purple puppy with wings that likes to sleep in my desk drawer, named Herbie.

Spike muttered something about a miserable fur ball under his breath.

Carl grinned at Spike's comments. "Big huge slurpy ambulatory fur pile with an attitude. Some year over a few bottles of something very strong I'll tell you about my first meeting with George..." Carl rolled his eyes and turns crimson. "That time at that event he was being polite and mannered...trust me," Carl groaned and stayed red for a moment

"What's all this about avatars?" I asked, remembering the term from earlier.

"Sort of the manifestation of the consciousness of the Creation, usually in some sort of animal, like a totem." Carl replied. "Even though the creation is the whim of the creator, the whim of the creation is the Avatar," Carl rolled his eyes. "Definitely has a mind of it's own, own personality, and can be a pain..."

I swiveled to Spike, "So, you're an avatar then?"

"Nope," Spike replied. "I've known art sense way before ImA was made, even before Trinity was made. Herbie is the Avatar, he is a spoiled puppy that steals my cheese, so I swat him on the nose allot.

"Ah!" I exclaimed in understanding. "I see."

Carl grinned. "Remind me some day, I'll tell you all the things Syveri the Gryphlet used to do. Should drive Herbie to the rubber room in no time,” he told Spike.

"Powers mostly pop out something that represents the power. Trinity is a Black Wolf. So when Dad needed Jeddi detectors out came the Taco munching Black Wolves. They help keep an eye on Trinity. Where my power doesn't want purple wolves running around so he doesn't make them,” Art said.

"Ah." I nodded, "So, then, the unicorn would be the Amber Pattern's avatar, correct?"

"Yup sort of. Maud is Dworkin's ladylove and she can go unicorn and human," Art answered.

"Maud is Kolvirii and mother of Oberon," Carl elaborated. "There is another unicorn, and that is the pattern manifestation. Or so I am led to believe. A physical one that we are descended from, and an etherical one that is the manifestation of Dworkin's Primal Pattern."

"Ah," I said. "I see." So, that was the unicorn mentioned in the family histories. Let’s see…incest and bestiality in the family. I checked a sigh.

Carl continued. "The Kolvirii were the original inhabitants of the Amber Continent. Then along came Dworkin and married Maud, and Oberon his son...." Carl sighed. "Harlan Gerardson married one of the Kolvirii, Zelda. That was a match. He went and hid again so I have no idea how many they're responsible for. The Kolvirii are proud, they're headstrong, and they're strong. Just the thing to keep him in line I think..." Carl mused.

I interrupted his thought, “Thank you for talking to me about all this. I’ve always found this sort of thing—“ I waved my hand airily, trying to indicate everything we talked about in the last hour or two, “—as if you couldn’t tell or anything by the way I’ve been jabbering on.”

Carl's smile turned to a grin. "No.why would we even think that?" he said in lightly jesting sarcasm...but the grin faded some. "As it is I think you'll have to go flip a coin and Art and I will have to mosey out back until you decide who to take up on the offer first..."

I smiled at him, feeling warm. Then, I blinked. Oh, right. Two grants. Remember. "Hmm. You do have a point there. I could alternate, I would suppose, do a bi-monthly system or somewhat." I frowned, considering that. Might not work, unless I was working on something similar. I shrugged, blowing it off, "I'll burn that bridge when I get to it."

"You'd have to do an extended stint or else it'd just all jumble, I think." Carl offered.

I thought about that seriously, frowning. Maybe I would. I’d like to do both…there shouldn’t be any reason why I couldn’t… I rubbed my chin and checked another sigh, “Hmm. Maybe. I don’t know. I guess I’ll really have to think about that…”

"If you're used to Haven, you will do middling well in downtown Carlsburg, Danji. Things aren't quite the same but not dissimilar," Carl pointed out. "More free enterprise and less royally mandated.... for example you can get onions on your pizza and flavors of ice cream other than vanilla."

I shrugged, "That doesn't matter. I adapt pretty well to new places. At least, I'd like to think so."

"Still, it should be easier than not," Carl replied. "Just remember it's more of a free market capitalistic system, and as Kelric mandates certain prices and no tips, this is an open system."

"I will keep that in mind," I told him.

Carl nodded. "Haven's nice, but a little too static for my tastes."

I shrugged, noncommittally, "It was a place to go after I got booted out of Amber. And Ian was nice to me, so..." I shrugged again, trying to convey pleasant ambivalence.

Carl snorted loudly at that, grinning. "Ian being nice...hm. At most he’s civil to me..." and shrugged slightly. "Of course I'm not a bombshell...” Carl blushed at that.

I joined him in that blush. Definitely hitting on me. No question there. I smiled at him, not being able to stop it, "That's sweet, Carl." Not here to get involved with men…oh, bother. Why do I keep reminding myself? Might as well give up and say it straight out; I was getting a crush on him. Silly schoolgirl crush. Just an exaggeration I’m sure. Been so long since I’d had so much attention lavished on me. Very long. Since…ah…Pierce. I think. And that ended badly. William, of course. Never forget him. That was so very long ago. Maybe Nimue had a point; it does get lonely after a while of being isolated. I think I was overdue to establish some relationships…way overdue. Start with family, friends, people I can turn to. Then…maybe…

There was a long minute of silence while I contemplated all that, and Carl waited for his blush to die down.

He swallowed his drink, continuing after his blush was down to manageable levels. "Many years back it seems, when Jasra was ruling in Amber the last time, I met Kelric. He was in one wing of the castle..." Carl smiled. "I was wandering around wondering what sort of lucid nightmare I was in, my cell phone was dead, and other than feeling I was a Loooong ways from Kansas..." Carl shrugged. "He's gone from someone that puts up with me to a friend that puts up with me..."

"Why would anyone have to 'put up with you'?" I asked. "I mean, it doesn't seem like you have that trying of a personality to 'put up with'. Unless there's some quirks that I don't know about because you're on your best behavior." Oh. Good save. Beats what I was going to say, really.

".uhm..." Carl said, with the same sort of tone that I got when embarrassed. He blushed again, brightly. Finally, "...if you've seen a library trump deck, the geek with the cell phone and the long ponytail, that what I was like when I showed...." Another wave of red. "..then there was family parties and the alcohol.." And still darker..

I smiled, chuckling a little, "Yes, I think I have that one actually. I picked up a more-or-less complete deck of Trumps while I was in Amber." He did look like a geek there. I wasn’t going to say as much, because that would be rude. I couldn’t say very much though; I was a geek when it came down to it.

Darker red again flooded his face, "I would love to burn every copy of that one...but I think Great Grandfather gets his kicks out of it."

I shrugged, trying to set him at ease, "You should see my high school yearbook picture," I commented, trying to commiserate with him.

Carl shrugged. "Didn't have one of those, but trust me, even my Duchy of California driver's license picture would be far preferable."

I sighed, giving him a warm look, "Gosh, if any lady actually asked you out or somewhat, I think you'd pass out, or your head would explode. Better watch that, my friend."

That was very naughty of me—he’d mostly recovered from his blush…again. Not any longer. "If...I passed out...I'd wake up on my pattern probably..." Carl managed. His gaze wandered for a bit. "The only ones that tried that are Charity Rexford and Diana and I certainly didn't pass out then..." he muttered.

"You didn't, hmm?" I asked, smiling, "Did you have a good time with the two ladies then, at least?"

He surprised me by going totally pale, looking like I just knocked him over. The blood rushed back though as he blushed again. “…ah…no…Diana put me in a…blue crystal sack…then a cell…” he stammered out. Ooops. Big mistake there.

“I’m sorry,” I said quietly, embarrassed that I brought up a bad subject. “I thought you meant they asked you out on a date or something… I didn’t mean to trudge up bad memories for you. Again.” I felt like a total heel.

Carl waved it away. "It's ok. Just that those two were not dream dates. I tend to avoid those types...now would you mind just a teensy..." he asked, worry creeping into his voice, "..if I asked you to turn your pockets out so I know you don't have any blue duct tape with Kevlar in it?" He kept his straight face for a few seconds, then blushed and grinned. "I SO hate women that use modern means to make me stay on their shoulder as they carry me off..." Redder again. Very adorable.

I did as he asked, treating it as if it were a ceremony, a formality. My pockets were empty, except for his business card. "See? I'm unarmed, totally helpless," I replied, smiling back to him. "Besides, you're much too big for me to carry away."

I got quite the interesting reaction from that. He started to open his mouth, and then turned around, putting his back to me for a few moments. I covered a smile, trying to have a straight face when he turned back. It wasn’t easy, but I managed. Barely. When he turned around to face me again, he was still very dark, and still trying to talk coherently. Straight face. Straight. Finally, “You, madam, are an Amberite. You could always drag me if you couldn’t hoist me…as you are certainly capable of hauling a chunk of my weight.” It was delivered with a sort of amused condescension; a joke, in other words. “Besides, ripping off the duct tape hurts…I don’t know how you ladies can stand to wax, honestly…”

I shuddered slightly. Ugh. Waxing. “No thank you. There are more civilized ways to take care of that sort of thing.”

Carl nodded, "I'll take your word for it." He looked around, giving me a conspiratorial look, "I can relax then, you're not inviting me to a duct tape party?" His blush remained firmly in place.

I shook my head, almost but not quite smiling, "No, nothing like that at all, of course. I was talking about a date, not a kidnapping." Date. Out and in the open. There. Good girl. Have some chocolate.

"If you were Charity Rexford, that WOULD be a date..." he replied, letting out a sigh of relief. "I never know..."

"No Ulterior Secret Kidnapping Plans (tm) for me, Carl," I replied. "I wouldn't know what do to with you." Well, that was a lie. I was starting to get a few good ideas.

He turned around again, blushing furiously. “…thanks…I think…just let my bruised and battered ego out, will you? I don’t think it can reach the knob anymore…” he said in mock-miserable tones.

I hummed to myself, smiling finally. I clapped my hands together, going along with the joke, “Oh, I know! I could make you vacuum. I hate vacuuming…and the floor’s almost always a bit crunchy if I let it got for too long.”

“In that case, Madam,” he snorted haughtily, turning back to me, “you put in flagstone floors and sweep them. Throw rugs for color and they can be taken outside and shook. No noisy dust belching vacuum cleaner at all.”

"That's very true," I nodded thoughtfully. "Although I prefer hardwood floors to flagstones." I gave him a small smile, as he seemed to be recovering from his blush.

"Hardwood floors do not take kindly to 'crunchy' floor conditions." Carl replied, then added "..and hardwood floors can still give you rug burns..." A space of a heartbeat passed, and his face flushed again.

"I will do you a favor and not ask you how you know that," I replied, teasing him with a smile.

The blush kept in place. Poor guy…he looked miserable, looking away again in a gesture that I was growing familiar with. He glanced down at his feet, drawing circles on the floor with a toe and said quietly, “…I ought to be past medium rare here very shortly…”

I copied his gesture, and looked around the pavilion. Maybe if I weren’t staring at him so, the blush would die down so he’d be able to talk again. Worth a shot.

"...you promised no duct tape...no steak sauce either..." he said quietly, still trying gamely to keep the banter up. "...this is one I wish would burn out." he muttered to himself.

I looked back to him, smiling. “It will eventually, I’m sure,” I said. Say something else. “I think it makes you very, um, endearing. I mean—“ Not that. Say something else. “—that it makes you very human, very approachable, and very likeable, not like some others I’ve seen in the family.” Better, but not great. “Well, not those here, though. Everyone here has been, well, nice. And friendly. Which, from what you and Art said, I guess is a rarity.”

He put an elbow on the table and his chin in that hand. He poked his cheek with his other hand, “At least rare. Possibly medium.”

"I'm just making it worse, aren't I?" I replied, mostly unrepentant that this was still going on. "Hmm...." I said, tapping my chin with my index finger, "let me ask you a question and get your mind off of, uh, blushing."

Brilliant. Now, what question?

"Ok, well, what's Inverness like?" I inquired after a short while of thinking up questions and then discarding them.

"Come visit and find out," Carl began, his blush having faded somewhat. "It has everything from prehistoric to ultra modern." he paused. "The main shadow Danji is sort of like a nice clean modern city, great climate, and a nice touristy destination too." He gave me a big, cheesy grin, still pink but looking much better now. "I'm not one of the wolf-avatar types so there aren't lots of red wolves, like Haven or black wolves like Trinity...they're not banned but they're not prevalent."

I nodded, feeling my nose itch again. Drat. "I'll have to come for a visit, I think, at some point. Although.." she glances around looking at the wolves hither and yon, "..I told you that was psychological. Got all distracted and voila, no sneezing." I sneezed. Stupid animals. Stupid allergy. Bah. I fished out my handkerchief again, and rubbed my nose. "Well, anyway..it sounds nice."

He smiled, still pink, "I'll send you a trump card and the tourist book."

"Ok," I agreed, putting the handkerchief away. "I'm sure that at some point in this mess I'll need a bit of a break. Are there any places in particular in Inverness that I should pay attention to? Hmm, like, places of historical interest or the like?"

"The infamous tourist book should cover that. If not, the trump card will put you right in front of the tourist bureau who will gladly outline any sort of thing you're interested in..." Carl replied. "That's what they're paid to do...." he smiled slightly. "Keeps them out of worse mischief."

"Most excellent," I said. "About the Trump at least. One more for my collection." I paused for a second, "Did you draw it yourself, or do you have a Trump artist working for you?"

Carl snickered briefly, and with a grin, "My post graduate and post-post graduate degrees are in Trump. Before the Paolo line I was doing most of the ones in circulation outside of the library decks." He pulled a couple of cards out of his pocket, showing the backs to me. I leaned forward to examine them more closely. One had white, emerald, light blue, and purple threads randomly swirled on a black background. The other showed a multicolored Spiro graph pinwheel with a white infinity symbol below it. "A lot of place trumps in use are my fault,” he commented, putting the cards away. "So is the secret of doing one-use trump sketches."

"Interesting skill to have, and useful," I observed. "I couldn't learn something like that--I can't draw a stick figure." Ok, that was a lie. I could draw, but I couldn’t draw artistically. I did diagrams and medical drawings, detailing whatever I was dissecting at the time. Pages upon pages of that sort of thing. Pretty much all for naught too, so I was finding out. It was almost irritating that I wasted so much time trying to figure out why I was different when there was a whole cadre of people who already knew why. Almost, if the subject wasn’t so fascinating.

Carl smiled slightly. "I always was an artist. It just seemed to be the thing to do." He paused, turning a faint red, "I almost ended up doing your guys'es library trumps.."

"Well, that would have been fun," I replied, smiling encouragement at him. "I've never 'sat' for a portrait or anything, really."

"I went to visit Great Grandfather and took some of the last of my stash of Dealunde Cognac and some pretty good imitation of it being produced in a corner of my creation... he let me stay for awhile while he sampled the offering and opined for some long interval about the nuances of cheese...and we played some poker.... and I lost. The bet was over doing the gallery/trump deck portraits. And I actually showed up in the west gallery with those hot itchy robes and the paints and lots of limiters-I couldn't leave the hall for one...and about gave Balaam a coronary and kittens right there," Carl grinned. "Great Grandfather showed up...we'd been sitting in fasttime and went what are you doing? And I told him remember the bet? And he sent me out of there." Carl snickered. "I heard he moved the portrait studio, then he hauled me off for a few months of study...." Carl let it trail off. "He's interesting," he added thoughtfully. Then, "Balaam's face was worth the chance of running south of Paolo for awhile though." Carl ended with a grin.

I smiled with him, "Great-grandfather...Dworkin, right?" Hmm…the one who started it all, in Amber anyway, "I've heard lots of things about him. Even though I haven't met him personally, he sounds like quite the character."

Carl nodded in agreement with my assessment. "When he's in a good mood, he's something else. When he's not, best to pretend you're part of the woodwork." he admitted. "He shows up once in a great while to family doings or court."

"Amber" is copyright © Roger Zelazny; this text is copyright © all the players and GM of Equinox. "Amber" the diceless RPG is copyright © Phage Press. No copyright infringement is intended.

Please click to go back to:

Lucretia: Equinox

This page hosted by Get your own Free Home Page