Beside the entrance, Robin swipes a disgusted hand at her skirt.  Screwed up again.  Ah well, nothing for it now.  She's only a little late as it is, and if she tried to 'fix' things further, who knows how much later she'd be or what would happen.  Stupid castle.  Taking a deep breath, fixing her expression and her posture, Robin steps into the doorway.  And quickly to one side to scan the room.
            But for that brief moment framed by the open doors was a tall and distinctly feminine form all in glowing silver/white.  Silver sandals laced up over curved athletic calves.  A white diaphanous skirt wafting against strong thighs.  The woven silver girdle cinching an hourglass waist and supporting a gleaming sickle knife with an 8' blade.  Breasts blossoming beneath a frost white chiton fastened at the one shoulder with a crescent moon of burnished silver.  The curved ash longbow was unstrung and the white doeskin quiver at her hip was empty, but the impression of huntress lingers.  A light breeze of night air and heights blew once into the room and was quickly gone.
            Once into the room and craning, it can be seen that Robin's face is painted – not masked – with a silver crescent leading from over her right brow to under her left cheek, leaving her eyes and all facial features in the black dark of the moon.  Small bones and argent beads are woven into the girl's hair.  
            But most interestingly, Robin seems to be silvered – and slightly glowing. Her bare legs and arms, her shoulder, her hair, the crescent on her face, all are lightly dusted in a coldly phosphorescent argent.  The warm golden glow of her natural color eclipsed by the sere cold of silver.
            A brief disappointed moue crosses the girl's lips, then she spots her Firebird of a brother near the sideboard and begins crossing the room.

When Robin enters, Brennan spots her, and unless Cambina has an objection, they move politely to intercept and start a second conversation.

As Robin senses the movement in her direction, she turns to the approaching duo.  A green glance is sent to her brother if he is watching – she will join him later.

"My Lady Cousin and Huntress," Brennan addresses her, "How has your return to the City treated you?"

"Brennan, we're supposed to pretend that we don't recognize her," Cambina scolds mockingly.  "Strange indeed this meeting of Fox and Huntress."

Robin's lips quirk in the darkness of her face paint, a flicker of teeth, a chuckle, the flash of humor in emerald eyes like, well, foxfire.

For his part, Brennan shrugs as much as a Fox can shrug.  If that's the way the game is played, that's the way it's played.

She turns to Robin.  "Good evening, oh spirit of the huntress' moon."  She curtsies and the high, round ruff floats above her black dress bordered with the silver stars.  "I must compliment you on your choice of themes."  She is smiling, genuinely this time.

Robin blinks twice, surprise growing to delight in the sparkle of her gaze.  Like emerging from behind a cloud, the peal of warm delight that lifts from Robin is light itself, perhaps one of the first free laughs this Castle has had from her.
            "Hail, the moon of wise women." Robin answers with a bow and a salute from her brow with the tip of her bow.  "I must compliment you on your choice of company."  She beams back.

He bows.  If there's a hand in reach, Brennan bows over that, teasing since he bets she won't object in the public light of the Masquerade.

Strange that.  One hand is holding a bow, the other rests at the small of the Huntress' back.  And there is a glint of mischievous in her eye.
            "My journey to the City... has been long, Sir Renard," Robin smiles to Brennan.  "But I think I may be past the wilds."  The girl's smile holds hope in the tremulous lines of her lips.

"How fortunate, then.  Out of the wilds, into the City, and back among Family, where even the Fox and the Huntress can pause to rest."

"'Home is the sailor, home from sea,
  And the huntress home from the hill.'"

The Ranger's smile turns slightly rueful, she doesn't know if this will ever be a place to rest or 'Home.'  But admits that the flaw lies in herself, and seems to be willing to at least... attempt it.  And she is glad that Brennan can find rest here.

For a time, at least.  For longer... who knows?

"Lady Huntress, I heard that you but recently hunted in Prince Julian's mother's home shadow.  The tales all frustratingly begin en media res, with much action and not very much about why.  How was it that you chanced to be there?"

"Ah."  Robin holds her bow behind herself, clasped in both hands, and rocks a little on her heels.  Her eyes avoid her companions for a moment, very much the picture of a child who has been caught with cookie crumbs on her face.
            But then, she looks back to Cambina – who took the oath this afternoon as well, and Brennan – Knight Commander of the Ruby.  A chuckle ripples through her, that was fast.  Ah well, time to play well with others.  Or spend the rest of her life as Amber's loose cannon.
           "The missing narrative in question, wise one, is this."  Robin bows to Cambina again.  "After King appeared amidst our number, I was determined to find my father immediately.  Hence, I took myself to the Chamber below.  Once there, I didn't quite walk the thing that lies within and from its center I called out for my Home.  Instead, I found myself transported to a place of image and immanence.  Much like here, only yet to be.  Since this place didn't hold what I sought, I moved onward, hell-riding until weariness called me to an Inn.  From there the tale you may have heard commences."  Robin's lips press together guiltily.  Yep, ain't no way to candy-coat that one. But there it is.

Brennan raises about three or four eyebrows during that story.  Or perhaps one eyebrow, maybe twice.  Rather than firing a shotgun blast of questions all at once, he settles himself on two.
            "Hmm.  You would be the one who dragged the wooden planks all over the place in the basement, then?  We were wondering about that."  Brennan looks over to Cambina and explains, "Some of the other Knights and I went poking around last week.  Some of us had never walked it, and I'd never seen it."

Cambina nods.

Then, back to Robin, "That's... interesting.  I assume you had walked it before?"

Robin's eyes come back to Brennan from where she was staring off into space for a moment.  "Planks?  Yes, that was most likely me."  She grins ruefully.  "You see, I did gather a number of planks.  And I did carry them to the start of the walk with the intention of laying them over the gaps.  And when I was finished I was no longer carrying any planks.  But... I do not remember placing them.  Sooo..."  the Huntress shrugs.  "I can only say that it was most likely me."
            "As for walking it before."  She nods and bites her lip.  "I'm afraid my next answer will have to be as ambiguous as my last one.  I have Walked before, yes.  And recently I Walked again.  *But* while both of those Walks were the same, sir, the most recent did not match the track to which I had put my foot.  Therefore, it is my belief that the Walk I carry within myself is not the Walk the lies beneath this castle."  Robin shrugs, she still doesn't know what to make of that one.  But it makes her darn uncomfortable, that's for sure.

The Fox takes a moment to absorb all that, then offers the following, looking for a reaction:
            "The Walk, as you put it, beneath this castle is profoundly broken.  And I'm referring to more than just the physical cracks.  Neither Marius nor I are completely ignorant in these matters, and we could tell there was no power there.  To prove it, he walked across the lines while I jogged along the planks you set down.  Nothing."

"I've heard that it is possible for those who are highly skilled to walk anyplace, although the effort is said to be of a higher order."  Cambina looks at the huntress, considering something, and instead changes the subject.

It's not clear if Cambina just told Brennan something he didn't already know, or not.  He does look like he'd rather have continued that conversation with Robin for other reasons, but considering the venue and the sensitivity of the topic, lets it slide for the moment.

"This place.  Did it feel like it had been...painted?  Was there, by chance, a circular lagoon with a waterfall?"

"Yeeessss," Robin looks over to Cambina thoughtfully as she drawls out her answer.  "Trees of Acrylic, Sun of Oil, Moon of Watercolor.  And the Tir.  There was also a series of caves in a very... promising spot that I did not have the wherewithal to explore.  And that nag at me yet."  The Ranger presses her lips together as her emerald eyes travel outward, seeing a different place.

The Fox looks at the Moon with a sidelong glance exaggerated by the mask.  "The location you were telling me about?"

"Yes.  There are vast caves behind the waterfall, including one very large, very flat chamber with a single entrance deep under the cliffside."

"Well that just about settles it.  I've avoided the place -- if it's what I think it is -- for a long time, but it keeps popping up.  I have got to see this place," he says.
 
Cambina arches an eyebrow.  "What do you think it is?"

He shrugs.  Cambina has heard at least some of this before; Robin probably hasn't.  "I'm still holding out for the idea that Amber has been split into accidental and essential features, and then dislocated.  The mundane geography is here; the metaphysical geography is there.  I would dearly love to know if the steps to Rebma are in that location."

Robin makes a little 'hmmmmm' noise as she compares Brennan's theory to her experience, but she's skeptical.

Brennan doesn't blame her.

"Weeellll, the steps to *Tir* are.  Though the stairway isn't." She shrugs.  Brennan's theory doesn't quite fit for her, for all that it *is* a good theory as far as theories go.  She smiles her appreciation for a nice turn of thought to the Fox.

"We didn't explore to the south, but Reid came sailing up the coast, expecting Amber, so he should have passed the cairn.  We should ask him."

"Well I'm not going to dance with him," the Fox says lightly.  "But I have been meaning to talk to him, and that's as good a subject of any to add to the list.  If my theory is even vaguely close to being correct-- or if those caves hold the metalogically consistent object, even-- it could solve a whole lot of short term problems for us."
            Only Brennan can toss around phrases like 'metalogically consistent object' without sounding like a total crack-pot.

He says, "Feel free to hunt me later this evening, Lady.  It would be my honor to turn around the floor with you.  But for the present, the Moon has claim on me."

The Fox does not consider this a burden.

Robin chuckles.  "You may want to see how heavy footed I am *before* you make that invitation, Sir Renard.  But... I might just chase you down later."  The Huntress smiles to herself, green eyes flickering in the black.  "I just might."
            "In the meantime, Cambina.  Again, you look awesome and your taste in men is impeccable."  Robin bows to both of them once more and takes herself off to find her fiery brother.

Cambina laughs, not unkindly, at Robin's assessment and lets the Fox lead her onto the floor.  They end up, unsurprisingly, next to Bleys. He grins broadly at the pair, as if some suspicion of his has been confirmed.

* * *

Having sensed the approach of their feathered associate, Jerod pauses.  His expression does not change, indeed has not changed through the conversation (half masks are good for that), but his body language tells Vere that this can be discussed later as Vere wishes.

"Lord and Cousin!" the firebird responds with warm but contained enthusiasm. "I'd know that beard anywhere, Vere. Never trim it, please.  And, Jerod, good to see you as ever." He offers each a pinion in turn. "You recall Dame Kourin, I trust?" he adds, introducing the bird of ice and frost complementing Jovian's fire.

"As ever cousin." Jerod says, nodding politely to Kourin, while noting the costume design of both.  "Your dragons are suitably lodged I trust?"

"For the time being, thank you. I don't expect the wings will be remaining here long, so the short term arrangements should do."

"The dragons have all been fed recently, so we shall spare the impressionable that sight, for now."  She smiles at Jerod, tilting her head in acknowledgement of his courtesy.

"Vere," he continues after pleasantries are made, "I won't interrupt you two with it now, but there are matters the grandsons of Rilga should discuss--" and oddly enough he nods inclusively toward Kourin, perhaps to say she is aware of them already, "at your first convenient time."

Vere turns back to Jerod.  "I wished to discuss that matter with you as well - the best means of recruiting men here in Amber."  He smiles.  "And the possibility of obtaining one or more of the ships from the Land of Peace, as well...."

"It will depend on what you want them for." Jerod says. "Whether the men you're going to recruit are viewed as simple mercenaries to carry out a job or whether you intend them to be *your troops*."  Vere gets the impression that Jerod thinks little of mercenary troops and that any men he has commanded in battle are *his men*, even if some time has passed.
            "As for Uncle Bleys' associates, I would be wary of using the crews.  They were never a threat to Amber but would have served well to provide us with new ships if they turned treacherous and had to be eliminated.  You might be able to acquire some assistance from them, or buy ships, but you would need to be cautious."

"This is actually part of what I would discuss with you," Jovian nods. "My riders regard the matter of the chancellor's treachery as Unfinished Business." He glances over at the green-garbed dragonrider by the sideboard, the one being handed things rather than reaching, whom anyone in the City could guess is Sir M'corli Antrithsrider, KOR.  And the set of his jaw becomes iron.
            "Thirty dragons and their riders - my whole corps - stand ready as volunteers in service to your cause, Vere. And I have the King's permission to join you, if you would have us."

Jerod's gaze moves over to look at the rider in question, bits of information sifting into place at that point as he makes note of Jovian's behaviour.  But he does not say anything, merely returning his attention to the conversation.

Kourin looks slightly impatient, but does not say anything.

"I would be honoured indeed, Sir Jovian," Vere replies.  "I did not dare hope you would be willing to return to the Isles, and did not wish to presume to ask you to involve yourselves again.  Jovian and Robin," Vere explains to Jerod, "rescued my sister, Avis, from the Chancellor's dungeons, at not inconsiderable risk to themselves."  
            He glances at M'corli, briefly, before continuing.  "To answer your question, what I would prefer is a smaller group of men to serve as a personal force, serving me directly.  The men I led in the past were members of the Brotherhood of the Stag, very similar to an order of knighthood, and sworn to each other as to brothers.  I have no firm prejudice against mercenaries, but for preference..."  he trails off, considering.
            "I fear there is insufficient time to raise such a force, however.  I have made few contacts within the military over the past few years, as I did not intend to ever lead men in battle again."  He shrugs. "Fate does not take our preferences into consideration when weaving her tapestry."
            He pauses once more for consideration, then continues, "As to the ships, I would like to have one or two vessels for transport to and among the Isles.  You are correct, I do not trust the crews from the Land of Peace, and would prefer to have my own crews.  I did not believe His Majesty would wish to begin his reign by giving away ships from his navy.  Perhaps I should actually *ask* him, however."
            Vere seems mildly amused as he makes this last statement.

"We are neither military nor mercenaries, except in the broadest sense.  We have fought the blackness in three worlds and won in two of them.  We do not wish to leave the third to that fate.  Your Siege is quite an orator. Half my riders might have joined the Brotherhood of the Stag on the spot, if he hadn't been so concerned about our 'demonic' mounts."
            "I'd've said that flight was a decisive advantage, but considering their flying attacks on us, I don't know if we'd best serve as transport or combatants.  We, ah...don't travel by ship."
            "How soon do you expect us to leave?"

Vere inclines his head to Kourin before answering.  "I regret that I do not have a firm date, yet, Dame and Queenrider.  There are certain preparations I must make first that rely on actions by others.  I plan on using that time to recruit warriors to my cause, and hopefully to gain transport for them."
            He pauses momentarily before continuing.  "I am most gratified that you wish to assist, Dame and Queenrider, and am certain that you will be able to best determine how your assistance would be most useful, once we have gathered information upon the current situation.  I stand ready to discuss planning at your convenience."

The firebird nods thoughtfully. "That would allow time for other matters that really ought to be attended, and certain consultations I wish to make before deploying our strongest advantages again. Another matter we ought to speak of a bit, Lord Spectre - but perhaps not tonight." Is that humility coming through in the voice of a Knight Commander and bronze rider...?

Having noted the arrival of others, Jerod nods a farewell to the group before making his way over.

Kourin nods at Jerod as he departs.  "Please, call me Kourin.  Dame sounds too much like some silly Weyrlingmaster's term for an older Queen dragon.  Perhaps you would come flying with us on the morrow?"

"And forget any effort at dame-age control," Jovian quips and instantly regrets it, glad his mask hides the wince around his eyes. "But yes, do join us. I was planning to bathe and oil the Bronze Behemoth, but you have my word, I won't hand you a brush unless you ask."

Vere also nods a farewell to Jerod, before replying, "I would be honoured indeed, Kourin.  I thank you for your courtesy."  Real warmth has entered his voice.  "Your companions are truly magnificent, and I will be grateful for a chance to better make their acquaintance."  He glances at Jovian, "Our conversation on this other matter can take place then, perhaps?  We have much still to discuss."

"Yes, we do," the firebird agrees. "There may be another party to our discussion as well, given the nature of some questions that have arisen." He flicks a glance across the room. While it's hard to be certain behind the mask, it may have been in the direction of a certain sorceress in green.

A smile flickers across Vere's face beneath the sheer hood not quite concealing it, but he doesn't respond verbally.

"I, for one, am glad we've got the obligation.  Otherwise, it might not be possible to keep L'tarn from that magnificent forest.  He's still not over the retreat from the Southern Weyr.  I'd worry if the dragons were too close to your brother's mother."

Vere considers that for a moment, then says, "There is a possibility that this matter may have some bearing on the matter of the Isles.  I would like to hear more about the Goddess, to see if there is a matter of concern or not.  It is one of the things of which I believe I should speak with Prince Julian."  

The firebird nods. "I do mean to discuss the matter of Arcadia, and what it means to be from there, for a number of reasons."

He pauses again, then returns to the previous topic, "What time and place should I meet you tomorrow for this flight?"

"I think six bells of the forenoon watch should be a good time to be up and around," Jovian considers aloud. "Shall we three break fast together around two hours before noon?" The idea evidently pleases him.

Kourin looks at J'rim and says "I still don't understand timekeeping here, but the wings will be ready."

"Two hours before high noon we'll meet Lord Vere for leisurely breakfast,"  Jovian smiles. "An hour after that we'll fly down to Ruby Falls and thence to the nearest beach. And I know what you mean, the timekeeping here drives me *nuts.*" The knowing, sardonic smile he shares with Kourin suggests he means more than she did by the comment.

Vere raises an eyebrow, and says mildly, "Is this a private joke, or may cousins share?"

"It's just that I'm the sort of person," Jovian admits, "who notices when a draft is making the hour-marks on the candle in the hall burn down four minutes too fast - and is bothered by it." The observation has the good-natured but unapologetic air of someone who used to be vaguely uncomfortable about a thing, but has come to accept it over time.
            "It has its uses, I admit - I'm never late for anything unless I want to be."

Across the room the faint glow of the approaching Huntress can be seen, as well as the tip of her bow above the headpieces, masks and *hair!* of the court, as Robin makes her way toward her brother and his company.

Kourin turns as Robin walks purposefully towards the group, her bow sticking up like a periscope above the sea of people.  She nods in greetings as the Ranger reaches the group.

Vere turns and nods a greeting to Robin as well, moving slightly to one side to widen their grouping.  He murmurs something that sounds like a greeting, though it is too quiet for the words to be understood.

White teeth and green eyes flash against the darkness of Robin's face paint as she reaches the group.  There's some relief in the lines of the Huntress' calves, she's happy to reach this harbor amidst the tossing waves of partygoers.  "Oh, Jove, Kourin!  You guys look so good in those!"  She beams and punches her brother fondly on the upper arm, regardless of what he's holding in what hand.

Kourin  smiles.  "Thank you.  This is certainly grander than anything we have at home."

Robin smiles back to the queen-rider.  "Yeah, for me too."  Pure amazement washes through the Ranger's voice as she looks out on the sparkle, the glitter and the colors of the crowd and room.

"You're looking beautiful, Robin. And tastefully evocative of the missing - thank you for that." The gravity of that thought colors his good cheer only faintly, and there is just a hint, sub rosa, that *tasteful* and *evocative of his brother* at the same time is worthy of note. (*Very* sub - but Vere is the Perception God, Kourin knows Jovian intimately, and what Robin doesn't know of him is partially filled in by her close knowledge of Julian...)

Beautiful?  Robin's eyebrow flickers momentarily.  That's not word she's used to.  But luckily it's coming from Jovian and one can expect a brother to say that, regardless of the actuality.
            "Thanks, Jove."  She grins.  "I hope I get to meet him someday.  I... think we'd have a lot in common."  She looks around the Great Hall once more, brushing fitfully at her skirt.  Yep, she's attended the Coronation Masquerade of the King of Amber, half-naked and painted.  From all she's heard of Daeon... the Ranger shakes her head ruefully and smiles with sparkling eyes back to her brother.

A poorly suppressed gale of laughter shakes the firebird's shoulders.  "Maybe a few things," he allows, the sparkle shining through even his masked eyes.

"Vere." Robin says politely as she steps into the space made for her.  And suddenly realizes that she doesn't know what to do with her hands.  The girl is deeply grateful that her face paint is black, else there might be some other color showing.

"We have been having a very interesting, and productive, conversation," Vere informs Robin.  "Kourin and your brother have offered their assistance in that little domestic matter I need to attend to."

"Really!?"  A delighted girl-squeal lifts from Robin to soar above the murmur of conversation and music.  Joy ignites her body like a torch, an explosive combustion showering sparks everywhere and flowing outward in a warm glowing tide of happiness.  Despite the bow, the Ranger claps her hands together gleefully.

The flood of joy at seeing Robin light up so is near impossible to hide for the wingleader, and indeed he makes no effort to do so.

"Oh, Kourin, Jove!  Thank you sooo much. Thank you. Thank you!  And please, thank Hoshith and Canareth too.  You guys are kick-ass!"  The Ranger throws herself at the dragonriders – one at a time – gathering them into a happy warm hug.  "Let me know what I can to do help."

Kourin's eyes get unfocused for a moment.  "They don't think we finished what we started, Robin.  Will you be joining us?"

"Deep Green and Dark Shadows, I wish I *could,* Kourin!"  There is no doubt in that.  Robin's earnestness conveys how *very* much she wants to aid her brother, his 'boss' and her cousin on this.  "But I've got another war closer to home to prosecute.  On behave of the missing and the incipient."  A rueful sigh from the Ranger lets the queen-rider know how important something has to be to keep Robin from their side.

Kourin looks a bit disappointed, but does not press the issue.

Jovian enfolds the girl in his 'wings' for a tight, lingering hug, at the same time mentally nudging Canareth and sharing the rush of warmth with his bond-mate. //Hear that, bronze boy? You kick ass!//
            "I may take you up on that," he admits as he releases her. "How do you feel about letting Ossian sketch you for me?"

Robin indulges herself in a big squeeze (don't have to hold back with Jovian) for her brother, before her excitement draws her out of it.
           At Jovian's suggestions, the Huntress' nose wrinkles.  And she sticks out her tongue at something nasty.  "I've been avoiding those, Jove.  They seem kinda... icky to me.  Buuuuutttt, I suppose if I'm going to be part of Team Amber, I better be on the playlist."  She sighs.
    
"We spent quite a bit of time and effort retrieving that 'icky' picture of Dad, remember?" the Firebird can't help but tease. "Check your pockets for slime."

Robin chuckles and fondly thumps her brother's upper arm.

"Okay.  But I'm not going to be around for much longer.  You'll have to schedule it pretty tightly."  Green eyes look to her brother with concern.

"I've promised Ossian I'd make some time for him tomorrow; we can work it out with him then." He nods to Vere and Kourin. "With luck, we'll be heading out fairly soon as well."

"I don't know when Dad's planning on heading out tomorrow.  So the earlier the better."  There's relief in the girl's voice.  Tomorrow, tomorrow, *Home.*

A smile of pure pleasure appears on Vere's face as he watches Robin's initial reaction.  For a few seconds he lets himself be swept up in the joy of the moment, before bringing himself back under control.  By the time Robin turns back to him, he is as contained as ever, and a faint upward turn at the corners of his mouth is the only remaining sign of his emotion.

"Vere."  There's a universe of the unspoken words weaving through that syllable on Robin's lips when she turns back to her cousin.  Glowing eyes meet the Danu's, happy fire burning therein.  "Thank the Green, you won't be alone."  She murmurs with heartfelt intensity.  One hand unconsciously lifts toward the veiled man.

"Indeed," Vere replies.  He raises his own hand to briefly touch her extended fingers, then drops it back to his side.  "I am still looking forward to meeting your seagulls, as well."

A little shiver runs through the girl as their fingertips touch.  And she smiles.  "If I get time, I'll see if I can't ship you some more."  Some girls offer flowers, some girls offer kisses.  And some offer murderous ill-natured airborne vermin.

"I would welcome them," Vere replies seriously.  "In addition, I have been thinking about how our two problems might, in fact, be related.  But I do not think that this is the right venue for discussing this matter."  He turns to Kourin, and says deferentially, "I do not wish to presume to extend your invitation.  However...." and waits expectantly.

With a little tilt of the head, Jovian's reaction to Robin and Vere's touch is effectively masked by the Phoenix beak. But Kourin, perhaps, can see the warm glow of amused satisfaction.

Robin smiles, finds her sandals fascinating and silently thanks her facepaint once again.  But at Vere's addition, her eyes come back up in curiosity, her brows furrowed.  Related?  Well, if Vere's seen something, Robin would indeed be curious to see what it is.  And she trusts his sense of timing, so she waits for Kourin as well.

Kourin smiles warmly.  "Of course, please join us.  We are meeting Lord Vere for breakfast some two hours before Noon and then going flying.  If you're not tired of being adragonback, you should join us."

The Phoenix laughs aloud at this, with genuine delight. "I believe our dear Huntress will be tired of flying when the Moon tires of her path in the sky as well. The only question is whether four bells of forenoon watch is too late for her breakfast, I think."

"I will have risen several hours previous and eaten before then," Vere notes mildly.  "The lateness of the hour would not seem to be an issue."

"Weeeeeelll,"  oh yeah she's reluctant, sure she is.  "I really don't know when Dad's going to want to head out.  I have to ask him, first.  Especially if you want me to get doodled tomorrow too, Jove.  But yeah," Robin grins happily, "I think I could do with some more flying.  And it'd be nice to see Canareth and Hoshith again."

"We'll be looking forward to seeing you.  Your father J'lin is justly famous in our homeland."  It may not strike anyone as odd how frequently dragonriders use plural pronouns.

* * *

Jerod decides next to speak to Llewella, stopping a short distance from her to await a break in her conversation with Kaia.

Abassador Kaia bows to Jerod, and Llewella turns.  Kaia's costume, a rush of flaming reds and yellows, starkly contrasts with Llewella's somber garb.  "Good evening, Your Highness." say Kaia.  Llewella nods her head at him slowly, so as not to disturb her headpiece.

"And to you Ambassador." Jerod replies. "You are lovely as always.  An enjoyable evening so far?"

"One is so seldom at the birth of a new world that it is hardly something that I would call enjoyable, your Highness.  'Historic' or 'Monumental', or perhaps 'Fascinating'.  I find you learn so much about what matters to a people by watching their ceremonies and rituals, don't you?"

"Indeed, though I've noted frequently that what people show to the outside world is not always what matters to them, but rather what they believe the outside world wants to see.  Or not to see." Jerod says.  "One must be careful not to confuse them."

"Visual acuity makes a great deal of difference, yes."

"Let us hope these historic moments are not...now what was it that my father said once.  Ah yes, something about living in *interesting times*.  I gathered he did not consider it a favorable condition to be in."
    
Her voice is also low and conspiratorial.  "I've heard tell he took Random flying late last night.  There are, apparently, advantages to being King..."