With Good Intentions

[rassafraggin]

Leaving Random and Vialle at the chosen mirror and with those wide-eyed, disapproving, staring children, the party enters a mystifying series of hallways that lead deeper into the Palace. They pass a variety of Solars leading to residential complexes. There are guards stationed strategically, though they do not seem to notice the party any more than the other adults seen did. Each Solar is themed, just as in the Palace in Amber, some with flowers, others with stones or colors. Here, the overall 'shades of grey' decor either deepens or fades to indicate color or shade. After a while, the hallways leave the public, semi-private and private areas of the Palace. Stairways lead down and down, past the kitchens and servants' quarters, past the guards' barracks, to the dungeon level. The hallways seem older, colder with a crude, block style construction. Finally, they come to a chamber with a hallway leading to the dungeons and a doorway. The door is wooden and unprepossing. A large, iron key is hung on a hook next to the door.

His sketching set secured for the time being, Shao is forced to commit what he sees to memory, for what it is worth with all the damages it took over a lifetime. That leads him to uneasiness and fidgeting, his eye darting left and right without his usual deliberate method. He does point to one of the Solars as they pass it, striking him as slightly different than the Amber one, although he might never find out how. Otherwise, he pushes himself to keep up, never straying futher than three steps from the Queen.

Walking with Moire and Shao, Maggie follows Martin and Miriam through the labyrinth that leads deeper into the Palace. She tries to remember every twist and turn, marking a flower here and a color there, but when they get to the more nondescript parts of their journey, she loses track. Still, every so often, she darts a glance back to see if she can place something as a marker. Judging by the frown that begins and grows deeper, that is not happening. Facing forward, she keeps the Royal Pair ahead in view. When they come to the door leading to the Pattern chamber, she considers, "The stairs leading down are long and trecherous. Shall I go down and Trump you all to the bottom?"

Ruby follows the group. Shadowing it and chewing on her lip as they go deeper into the Tir Palace. Her skin feels itchy, which makes scratching at the goosebumps like trying to speed-read braille. She tries to imagine this place super-imposed over the Amber location. It makes her head hurt, producing a sickly expression. "It not cause problems close tah...tah tha squiggly, will it? Should be safe? I mean, s'long as stairs don't disappear suddenly." She eye shifts. "I willin tah risk stairs if they feel real." She looks to the others.

Moire has perhaps seen many features of this Palace, an echo of her home of so many centuries in the Sea. Despite what vibrant changes have been made to the Palace of Rebma, memories of the Past persist. She'd remained withdrawn after having left the others in the library, and all those adorable sullen cherubs, but as they arrive in the antechamber to the departments of gloom and doom, respectively, she looks inquiringly from the closed door to Maggie and Ruby, as they speak. She declares simply, "I concur with the Forgemistress. A thing of great power must be approached with respect and care."

Glancing from Ruby to Martin and Miriam and then up to Moire, Maggie half smiles for the poetry in that truth. "Very well." Stepping forward, she murmurs 'excuse me's to Martin and Miriam. Taking the key from the hook, she turns it over in her hands once, then inserts it into the door's lock. It is neither a large key, nor ornate. The lock is similarly simple. It turns after a moment's trying, the *click* resounding, ominous and echoing. Removing the key, Maggie pulls the door open. Like the key, it does not move easily but when she puts her back into it, the door opoens with a long, slow creeeeeaking sound worthy of an Edgar Allen Poe novel turned radio play. (Staring Vincent Price!) There is a torch just inside the door with matches to light it. Beyond, the first few stairs acan be seen as they begin that long and winding path down and down and down some more. But, that cannot be seen for the darkness within is the yawning, deeply impenetrable variety that just waits to swallow a body whole, leaving no trace, not even a whisper, behind.

Placing a hand softly over Maggie's shoulder, Shao ask for room to have a look past the doorway. He remains there for a long moment, trying his eye at the darkness. He clicks his tongue once, signaling his annoyement. He pushes up the handkerchief covering his missing eye and tries again. After and equally long time, he clicks his tongue once more. He turns to the group, fixing his mismatched stare at Moire, for he has two eyes and not only one. In replacement of the one he's lost, the new one is not of brown but shines softly of warm amber. "The road down is treacherous. We should not all test it, I aggree with Maggie-san. I brought ropes, I should be the one going, with your blessing, Madam."

Whether Moire was pre-informed of Shao's exquisitely mechanical eye, or really can't tell the difference, she only gazes at the Jadeaen non-plussed. She stands aside while the group decides what party formation makes sense.

After Shao's long and dangerous ordeal, the others were trumped to the base of thet stairs. Here, the air is sort of dank and fusty and the shadows really should be festooned with cobwebs. Rats or mice should be skittering and skreeing hither and thither in panic at the intrusion. Instead, an oppressive silence is broken by the party's voices and footsteps. Another door breaks the matte black of the wall ahead. This one is also of wood with a rounded top. Those who are attuned to such things might feel the bzzt crackle of magic behind the door. Lights flicker from beneath as though many fireflies zip by in uneven irregularity. Stepping forward, Maggie pulls the door open to reveal the Pattern chamber within.

Quinlan arrives by, well, the same way he's been getting everywhere else while here - flight. He does tap the ground with his staff every now and then, confirming it's still solid, but he's not in any way attempting to trust it. He trails after the group as they trek to or otherwise reach the bottom of the stairs, saying only, "Honestly...I really wish Liam had stayed. He felt really bad about this."

Liam. A name that echoes in Shao's mind. Flashes come to him, a voice, not enough to really remember. He shakes it off, bracing his shoulder against the puzzle of a broken mind. There it is, the Pattern. He can hear its power, he can almost feel it. He can see the Pattern, the hole in it, the shimmering power, the cracks. He recall feeling true power coursing his veins, for a minute, one evening in the palace's gardens in Amber... this is close to it. Goosebump climb along his body. He licks his lips, feeling the inebriation threatning to take over again. Catching sight of Moire, calm as sleeping waters, he remembers his duty. Paper is unrolled, coal is dancing. "To have the world spin at the point of one's coal..." he says to himself, a variation of something a friend once told him.

Ruby steps cautiously, not feeling any warm fuzzy feelings for the broken thing. Moving like the ground is a thin layer of ice that can crack into a multitude of spiderwebs with each step. "I dunno 'ow it got tha way. S'pose you all know more than meself. But whatever did tha...it bettah not be resident or return visitor, Truth. I don't loike it." Her lip curls like an agitated supple worm.

Martin is quiet on the way down, just making sure to keep an eye on both Moire and Miriam. He looks like he might also be distracted by some heavy thinking. Or, maybe he's hoping there will be time for a smoke after this.

Quinlan blinks at Ruby. "Um. Corwin and Deirdre, with Liam along for a handy patsy. So, two of the three Tir-kids and one Tir-cousin is how it happened. Liam didn't go into detail when he told me about it, just that it wasn't meant to destroy the Pattern and neither of the elders told him it could." He pauses, thinking, brows scrunched. "I think...it had to do with putting one of them back together? I know Corwin was a big pile of spiders, at one point. And Deirdre had something weird going on with silver dimes. But it's all kind of vague, now."

Maggie slides into the Pattern chamber and slips to one side to let the others in if they want to enter. She studies the thing, hands on her hips. Narrowing her eyes against the broken wrongness of it, she inhales slowly, "Well. That's... creepy, Quinlan. Uncle Corwin as a pile of spiders. I can't even imagine what trying to walk the Pattern like that would be like. Or, was Aunt Deirdre carrying the pile? Which is its own kind of creepy..." Making her way around the Pattern, she comes to the beginning. Looking down at it, her gaze remains locked. And pensive.

Moire finds an area to occupy that is not close to the Pattern's edge, nor in anyone's way while they conduct their studies. She listens to their scattered discussion. Her eyes move randomly to follow and monitor the Patternites, all four of them, although when Maggie gets close to the start of the journey like that, the monarch stares at her exclusively.

Martin takes out the sword of Tir, letting it shine in whatever light emits from the area. "Generally speaking," he says in a mild tone. "Not thinking beyond 'this seems like a good idea at the time' and blindly following whatever fool idea someone had in his noggin' is what landed us all in this mess in the first place. Whether they meant well or not, they acted without all the facts. That is why we cannot allow that to happen again."

Quinlan gives Martin an amused look. "So you're going to kill off all our cousins and most of our aunts and uncles then?" he asks. "Thanks for the warning, I can be out of town before the bomb hits."

Shao lets out a very soft sigh, or more like a short expiration through his nose, as he compares his drawing to the real thing in front of him. Frowning, he replaces the sheet with a virgin one and starts again, this time including Martin and his sword, ready to commit some sort of foolish act in the name of science. Quinlan gets a we-are-not-amused glance for his murder quip but no more.

Maggie inhales as a shudder rips through her. Blinking, she looks up and away from that oh-so-tempting, almost audible Siren's call. Walk me, it seems to say. Waaaaalk meeeee. But, no. She steps back away from the treacherous temptor. Looking up and away, she swallows and angles back to lean against the wall near Moire.

Ruby turns her gaze on Martin, and the particular sword he's unsheathed. She narrows her eyes at it, and then widens them when she recognizes it. His words sound like an oath and she stiffens subconsciously.

Martin just shoots Quinlan a mental middle-finger as he balances the Silver Sword in his hand as if it was an extension of his own will. He carefully touches the edge of the Pattern with his sword, poking it experimentally. Okay, it seemed like a good idea at the time? Unfortunately, the will of the sword is not completely Martin's, it is bound to Tir. It's duty is deeply ensconced into the stubborn fragments of reality that still cling together to hold the city in the sky in place. Whether it is because he has had the sword much longer now than previously, who knows. But something is happening, something is suddenly different in the air. It feels like the ghost of a breath of wind. On your neck, at the corner of your eye. There's something, life, eternity, the future of the end and beginning of all things. Goosebumps appear on Martin's arm and his veins glow silver for half a second. If you blinked, or breathed or your thoughts were in a different place, you missed it. Then all is normal again, like nothing happened. There is no power in this place, only a ghost of one.

Quinlan was just *riveted* to watching that. Eyes wide, nose twitching like a bunny's. But as the moment passes...of all things, he takes out a flask from his bookbag, and sniffs at the contents thoughtfully. "That sword is really...REALLY interesting. What do you do with it usually?"

The line of Moire's posture appears to ease perceptibly, though she still stands in a poised manner, while Maggie finds her way back. She gives Maggie another intent look from that closing distance, then peruses the large chamber again, now resting her gaze on Martin's activities as he attempts to zing the Pattern. Gracious. Now she does move, one step forward, towards her Grandson. But by that time, he is not a pile of ashes on the floor, so she stops, and only contemplates what she had seen.

As the moment passes over him, Shao becomes of stone. Now he can live and breathe again, adding to his list another way of tasting true power. He looks to his page, finding nothing more he could depict, since all it was was a fleeting feeling. He throws a sideglance at Moire, his weathervane since he walked into the depths of Rebma. He watches her taking a step forward, mentally coiling to pounce, then she stops.

Maggie looks up at Moire, her smile a whisper of a thing, brief and warm. Inhaling, she follows Moire's glance and stiftens. She too steps forward, concern edging to a panic that is washed away as Martin returns to himself. "What... Good grief, Martin! Don't do that!" But it ended well, right? Does Martin have his father's luck? She whooshes out an unsteady breath. "Okay. You are okay. Let's... Let's do the next bit and go home. I mistrust the time we have spent here."

Ruby starts. She missed it. But the reactions of the others instills a second-hand spidey-sense that has her anxiety climbing. What did she miss?! Her gaze lurches from person to person in the chamber, seeking reassuring cues. She echos Maggie's words, mangling her version in a tight voice. Parroting in ignorance but picking up on the peril that might have passed. "Don't do't!"

Martin shakes himself like super-mental shake. "Ugh," he exhales. "Generally I keep it really close and try not to let the visions get to me when they come. Occasionally I kill Black Road creatures with it. I think it's safe to assume that the Tir Sword and the Tir Pattern are linked somehow but we should proably do some more experimentation than that." His arm felt a little numb but he transfered the sword to his other hand and just flexed his hand a bit. "I'm okay," he smiled at his Grandmother. "It was just a poke, no harm done." He grinned faintly with that 'hey it's me' expression.

Quinlan is still staring at Martin, and his shiny, shiny, damn that is really shiny, sword. "Liam, Mordred...damn, what was the other one. Owen? But those were all Deirdre's. Eric's Ordered. Jaymesin's a jerk. And I can't remember if Corwin's got any untainted kids. I really do need a smaller family tree."

Moire mentally-swats Martin's silly arse for that grin, then gazes from one end of the elliptical silver-lined field to the other, as though scanning for changes after Martin's stunt. She takes a slower step backwards and focuses on Shao this time. "The dimensions of the broken gap seem precise. Can you see it clearly from this angle, Shao-san? We might appeal to Quinlan to illuminate the details."

Shao sides with Moire, leafing through his work. "The Pattern keeps shifting, Madam. See, here. And here. All of my images are true and yet, they fail to compare with the Pattern itself, when you look between them," he explains, his mouth twisting in a sad dismay. "Because you ask, I will redouble my efforts on the gap itself, of course." He sidesteps once, comes back, tries blocking one eye, blocking the other, blinks the glowing one once, twice, each time changing its hues. He sighs his frustration, wipes his sweaty brow and begins sketching once more.

Miriam has been quiet, the Pattern not at all being her area. Also, because she is prone to visions at the best of times. Here and now? Apparently, there's things going on in her head that mean she's not focused on that here and now. Until the edge of the sword to which she is attuned touches the edge of the Pattern. Then, she snaps to as though jolted by a shock. Her eyes go wide and there's a gasp, and she turns to focus on that sword and the man holding it before staggering slightly as though off-balance or dizzy. Perhaps both.

Quinlan asks Miriam, curious, "Why?" Which ...could be anything. Why that reaction, why the connection...One supposes it comes down to what Miriam may feel like sharing.

"What are you getting at?" Martin asks Quinlan. He's almost apologetic at Moire, almost but hey that's him. His arm stops being numb at least in time to catch Miriam before she keels over onto the Pattern because that would suck. He sees Ruby come forward and acknowledges both her and Maggie's concerns with a confident smile. Martin's good! No harm done.... Wife, not so much. He'd offer her the handy liquor flask he always has on him but his hands are full. Maybe Ruby or Maggie will oblidge. "It is?" He looks curiously at Shao and Moire.

Quinlan blinks. "Silver in your veins," he says. "But not, maybe, enough. Miriam reacts. Star-blood, Martin. The Tir-sword may need one of the starbloods. Faiella's line. If any are around that aren't tainted or twisted. Offhand I can't remember any. Faiella's line kind of...don't seem to fare well." He nods to Shao, and Moire, studies the Pattern by flying up - not OVER it, but higher, to get a good angle of view - and then casts an illusion of what he can see, for Shao to copy, at about one tenth scale.

After Martin catches her so that she doesn't fall onto the Pattern, because that would indeed suck, Miriam takes a moment getting her feet back under her. She still holds on to her husband for the moment, though. "What happened?" she finally asks, then looks to Quinlan. "Why what?"

"I was just trying to prove that this particular sword was indeed connected to the Tir Pattern." Martin clears his throat. "It is. All depends, Quinlan. We are aware that using the sword requires a certain touch, though." He's glad all he did was stand near the edge of the pattern because, who knows what would have happened otherwise.

Unaware of anything but what is before his eyes, Shao only glimpse at Martin's save of Miriam and does not let that break his concentration. "Oh!" he says, hit by the apparition of Quinlan's magical image in front of him. He bends over to pick up his spilled work and his coal. "Thank you, Quin-san," he mentions, now that he understands better. The work resumes.

Moire follows along with the discussion between Martin and Quinlan with pricked ears and a frown, especially since the name of her young daughter keeps coming up. She decides to watch Shao's work again, nodding her thanks to Quinlan's handy visual reference.

Ruby reaches up to rub at her face, dragging downwards with her finger momentarily distorting her features all grotesquely smushyfaced. "Looks loike it needs more than a patchjob, tha's for certain. Y'know what this is? This be a trap. This broken thing beggin someone tah doo somethin. Loike...you set oot fork'n knoife at dinner table. Say there be three sets 'o them. An you put one fork oot'ah alignment. Drive you crazy if you don't straighten it. Same with 'angin pictures in gallery. Wrongness just screamin for a fingah tah...~boop~." Ruby smacks her lips. "Oops! You died."

Quinlan smiles a bit. "Yes. The Rebma pattern took me, my mother, a room full of custos, and the Jewel of Judgment to fix. A lot of the people that walked in, did not walk out again. I'd expect no less of a challenge here."

Miriam says "But Rebma also didn't have th'Sword of th'Sea. That means we have a piece they had t'work around. Not that there aren't more things needed, but maybe it's an important piece?" Her forehead wrinkles, though. "But while Martin wields th'Sword as Tir's Champion, it's not fully his. It's mine. Would that make any difference?" she asks.

Maggie remains back away from the Pattern's edge. Far back. Now that Miriam is safe she leans against the wall, watching the doings. Quinlan's illusion and Shao's drawing attract attention, but not for too long. Ruby wins her attention next, then Quinlan. Her eyes widen at the effort Fiona and her group put forth in fixing Rebma's pattern, "Wow." Not a story she has heard before, it seems. "Would you be willing to tell us about that sometime?" Turning to look at Miriam, she shrugs, answerless.

Martin looks at Quinlan first, "Miriam's brother was not a cousin. This was his sword." He nods at Miriam, "At some point, we'll discuss that part, we knew it might come to that, me attuning to the sword. We also have the Scepter of Moins, a Rebman Artifact. The Jewel was, as far as I know, Amber's artifact so therein lies the problem we need to sort out. I expect that when the time comes we will have sufficient support." He gives Moire a gentle smile, not to worry, Faiella's quite safe from being brought into this madness. To Ruby he nods, "It's a trap for the foolish, yes but there's just enough power here to keep Tir from fading completely. I don't know how long it has though." He watches Shao's work briefly. Martin does have a similar interest that Maggie does. He wasn't there when the Pattern was fixed.

Quinlan nods toward the Pattern. "But Miriam can't walk that. Not even one step. Hence, Faiella's line. Star blood and Oberon's blood." He pauses, looking honestly a little surprised at the sudden interest. "Um. What I recall was...first they had to fix the ground under Rebma's pattern. I think Caine hit the place with an earthquake somehow? The Custos helped with that, but the room strongly resisted any attempts to change it. The currents in there got dangerously strong. Chaos manifested, and had to be beaten back. Once the floor was fixed, then Mom was able to start walking the broken Pattern, and everyone else was mostly busy making sure the waters stayed calm and no threats intruded that might break her focus. She was...very weak, at the end of that. I think...a third to half the custos died protecting her."

Shao finally rests his black, done with the part Moire wished for. He bows his head to Quinlan, in thanks and respect. What he shows to Moire is a black spot, with the fissures throwing from it into the shimmer of the Pattern's end. While Moire and Martin study his work, he listens to what Quinlan says, adding it up with the other bits his subconscious picked up while he was sketching. He frowns, thinking deeply.

Moire looks at Martin for a moment, and nods once, faintly, at the implied reassurance. Her attention slips from him to Maggie as she requests details, and from then on gazes upon the terrible beauty of the shimmering spiral, while nodding slowly over Quinlan's retelling. She wasn't present, of course, but this can't be the first time tales have reached her ears of that monumental ordeal. "Do you know how closely the conclusion of that ritual was followed by the wrenching of the city's existence to no longer reflect Amber precisely?" she inquires.

Miriam nods to Martin. "If y'need to attune th'Sword of Tir fully, so it's truly yours t'fix th'Pattern, we'll do that." she says to him, obviously entirely trusting him with it. Somewhere in his post-life situation, Benedict is punching the air. Martin commenting on not knowing how long Tir has causes her to frown, and her forehead to furrow in concern at the thought. She listens to Quinlan then, as he tells about Rebma's Pattern. "But Fiona wasn't Sea-born, and she was able t'fix that one. Shouldn't someone not Sky-born be able t'do the same here?" she wonders aloud.

Quinlan coughs. "Mom used the Jewel of Judgment. That's a thing entirely attuned to the Pattern. My comments about the sword are really because of the nature of the *sword*. If Martin can be fully attuned to it without being of Tir heritage, then yes, totally go for that. I was basing my theory on the fact that it seemed to be *looking* for a Tir-blood. Whatever the tool used, whoever's using it will need to be able to access its powers fully. Every scrap of power will be needed." Oh, Shao's done. His fingers flick, and his illusion of the Pattern vanishes. To Moire, he says, "I'm sorry, ma'am. I was relatively recently come to Amber when the Rebma pattern was repaired...and honestly I was kind of...traumatized. I couldn't tell you with any accuracy when Rebma began to change. I didn't know it at all well at that time."

Shao has a half-step toward Moire and he reaches to touch her arm, stopping his hand less than an inch from her. "Your Royal Majesty, I would ignore my duty if I did not remind you about the moon," he says, keeping his tone soft and prudent.

Maggie has been listening to each of them as they speak, taking particular note of Quinlan's tale. Her attention does shift to Miriam and Moire and Martin and Ruby as they add elements, but it is Quinlan's tale that holds most of her attention. Pushing from the wall she was holding up, she nods to Shao rather than the rest, "I agree. I think it is time we left this place for safer soil."

Martin looks between Moire, Quinlan and Miriam and then back to Moire, "I am reasonably certain, given the nodes we have found, something was missed. I have it on my to-do list to figure out what." He smiles at Miriam and nods. Indeed, his Uncle would be fist-bumping, but would make sure no one saw it, too. He doesn't bother trying to explain why Chaos was coming up to attack Fiona and the other custos. That bit always gives him a headache. The universe is full of too many layers. "Exactly, we need all the power we can get. Speaking of power, the next thing I'm wanting to do is recharge the Scepter of Moins, but we don't entirely know exactly how to do that yet or how it fits in with things." He nods at Maggie, shifts his gaze briefly to Shao. "Yes, we should leave." He gives Miriam a reassuring smile. "Whatever it takes." he promises her.

Miriam continues listening to the others. To Quinlan, she says "I can't think've a reason he can't fully attune't. We'll do that before next month, so he's able t'wield't properly here for other study." Assuming Tir shows up again during that full moon. She thinks then about something Martin says, then suggests "There was all that power at th'tomb of Eilrahc. It didn't have any place t'go. Maybe th'sceptre is a place for't t'go?" It's followed with a shrug. "Or, all that power at th'Mirror." She clearly means the one inhabited by that Sea Witch. Meanwhile, there is movement back up those stairs. Miriam also returns Martin's smile, and takes his hand as they climb. She doesn't seem worried that they are about to lose the city under them. When she starts to look worried is probably the time to worry.