Editing Red Sword Calls-FB Posts (section)

===5246-Jeremy and Fiona at Tirna no'gath===

Standing at the top of the pinnacle the two men look down over the fairy lit city below.  Beside them sits a man in the Uniform of the Elites, smoking a cigar with a hint of thyme.   The city sparkles as the evening werelights start lighting in the gathering dusk. Traffic seems to change as they watch from the wagons and press of the daily commerce to the coaches and conveyances of the evening.  

One man is tall, thin, to the point of emaciation.  Bones, skin and bones, skin and bones of well-loved dark magic.  White haired and light skinned, he wears  a close cropped beard streaked with red. 

Around his fingers and neck are thousands of tattooed symbols that shimmer slightly with power.   He wears wizard’s robes in blue and black.   At his side is a heavy blade unsuited normally to the practitioners of the magical arts. 

The other is tall as well, powerfully built with a heavy black beard surrounding a heavy chin.  Dark eyes look out over the city from under deep brows.  He wears what might be fatigues if one wished to hide in a jungle of purple and gray.   Around his waist is a thin rapier and a heavy caliber pistol.  
The thin man comments, “Amber at dusk.  It seems so peaceful.  Hard to believe it is the center of things this side of the Abyss.”

“Yes, and I was once its king, if only for a short time.”

Above them a shadow of the moonlight filters down between the clouds.  Stairs appear at the top of the stone beside them.  Looking up the two watch Tir-na Nóg'th appear in the sky above them.  

Rising, the Elite turns, “Sire, I have to contact my superior.  Routine.  You should have a few hours unless one of the other royals decide to come up here.  The Pattern Guard should be there by now.”  

Nodding to the Elite he pulls his deck from his belt. Drawing a trump he concentrates.  “Yes.. Bring us through.”

Stepping through the Trump, Finndo grips the hand of the pattern guard, thin, and deceptively frail.    Looking her over, he nods, “Sister Fiona.    Well met, as Random said to expect.”

She nods, looking over the elder brother she has only met a few times, “And you are as I was told as well.  I would very much like to speak with you at length at your earliest convenience. Our paths have crossed so rarely.  Only a half dozen times in a thousand years. ” She looks to the other man beside her brother.  “And you are?”

He nods, “Jeremy Lockpick Fairhand.  As far as Amber is concerned, I’m a member of CHAD.”

Chuckling, “CHAD?  Sure... I’ve never traveled in York myself but I know very well who you are in those realms.   Certain things are unavoidable to those of us in the craft, as you will find in time.  I’ve met your son Venki though.  I’d like to compare father and son.”

Smiling, a look that seems uncommon on his face, he laughs softly as he says “He is shorter than me, and far more gregarious, less prone to bloodshed and not as skilled in the sorcerous arts. He tends toward loving caresses and sweet words when he fucks while I prefer leather straps and a fair amount of crying  from my bedmates. Anything else?”

Fiona moves away from the pair, scowling at the man with the dark reputation and the man who was once King in Amber.

Jeremy and Finndo walk behind her, observing the Pattern of Tir-na Nóg'th with interest.  Fiona asks, “Why did you want to see this pattern rather than the one downstairs?  The other is certainly more potent.”

Jeremy looks to Fiona briefly, then back at the pattern.  “I have an affinity to things beneath the moonlight.”

Laying down beside it, Jeremy lightly lowers his hand above the pattern.   He concentrates and small electrically bursts leave his finger tip to be echoed by sparkles and lightning from the Pattern.

A shape appears beside Finndo, bearing the Jewel of Judgement.  Random nods to Fiona as they watch the prone wizard. He shows the slight strain of just having walked the pattern in Amber.    A knowing nod passes between the two men who have sat the Throne of Amber. 

Jeremy stands, and regards the pattern with respect.  Turning to the trio he bows to the king.  

“Sire, it’s been a very long time since I felt such avarice, but all of my magic cannot see me through that work.  I know that some without the imprint of the pattern in his genes has walked the pattern but I would agree that the pattern desired that be done. Me it does not desire.  I shall have to be content with the Broken Pattern imprint. Though I intend to hunt down a Woven Logrus as well.”

Random nods, “You pastimes are your own, Jeremy.  So, how does it compare?”

“Much of what I have learned from your brother can be used in York, though I am unable to walk that pattern either.  I imagine much of what the King of York can do, could be done here.   I imagine that what you can do here can be done there, though it would be interesting to see how that pattern responds to you and your jewel.  Once I see the Sigil of Azcala or Regor or Bursain, I will know more.  York is far less potent then this pattern, I know that much for certs.  I have examined the imprint of the Logrus carried by Digan, Jurt, Merlin, Nur ed Din, Koob and Tolknor.  Digan, Jurt and Merlin bear the same imprint. Nur, Koob and Tolknor’s are of a significantly lesser order.  A shade of the Logrus if you may” He speaks leaving his eyes on the pattern with longing.  

“As powers balance, I would echo your advisers.  I would learn at their feet like an apprentice, in fact.  This pattern is dramatically more powerful than York and the Amber Fallen in its shadows.   I have yet to see Mandalay or Avalon, of course.   I will see Mandalay in time but I doubt Prince Corwin will allow me into his realm.    Still, I can infer from context as much as I have.  Do you still wish me to proceed?”

Random looks to Fiona, then to Finndo, receiving guarded faces from them both, he nods.

Removing the Jewel of Judgment from his neck, he passes it to the Archmage of Tosa.

Jeremy Fairhand takes the stone, gazing deeply into it, pressing it to his face.   Shivering, he falls to the ground, the stone wedged to his left eye.   The trio kneels beside him as red glowing sparks hold the stone in place.   Random and Finndo grip his shoulder, channeling their combined attunements into the stone.  Feeling it affect the dark wizard, they lose themselves in its powers for a time together.

Time passes.  

The stone drops to the ground of the pattern room of Tir-na Nóg'th.  Fiona picks it up as the room starts shimmering in the moonlight.  Looking about she sees the walls starting to fade away, the ocean far below them becoming faintly visible.  
 
Pulling her trumps out, she turns her deck face forward to herself,   throwing her full force into the contact.

“BLEYS!  PULL ME THROUGH!  FOUR OF US AT DEATH’S DOOR!”  A hand reaches out and grabs her, pulling hard.  She grabs Finndo and Random, pulling them behind her.  Secretly wishing the thin wizard’s death, she wills herself into the open trump.

Random, waking as he passes through the trump, grabs the Archmage’s hair, dragging him across the trump’s threshold as Tir-na Nóg'th fades away.

Falling, the five people pile together in the heated corner of a rushing river.   The hot spring splashes as the bodies land in the water.

Tossing his hair as he comes up, the naked Bleys moves to the other side beside the drenched and equally naked Helene du Sarn. 

The four start disentangling themselves and standing in the hot water.  They lean back against the stone seats recovering themselves slowly. 

Bleys glances on the sand next to the water and the empty bottles of champagne.  

“Helene, go get a dozen more bottles, please.  I think his majesty and his guests will be thirsty after whatever tomfoolery they have been up to tonight.”

[[File:Jeremy.jpg]] [[File:D-finndo.jpg]]  [[File:D-fiona.jpg]]  [[File:D-bleys.jpg]]  [[File:Helene.jpg]]  [[File:Darcyrozaro.jpg]]