I needed an edge. Or a clue. Or something, anything, to help me the next day when I met Stephan face to face. Just remembering the dream... or trip to Tir-na Nog'th if it were that... confused me. But I had no place to go to look for more answers. So I searched for more hints instead.

I made my way to the steps on Kolvir as the moon rose. The steps were already forming as I approached, and I saw someone sprint ahead of me, moving up the steps into the clear night quickly.

Jerrym.

I hesitated then, flushing slightly. What a mess. It wasn't that easy to fall out of love, and even though I was trying, I still felt something for Jerrym. Even though he had never felt anything for me. He was the last person I wanted to run into now, as I sought information about Stephan. And he knew I was going to Tir... it was obvious he had no desire to see me either. But then, I couldn't blame him.

Tir-na Nog'th was the only place where Jerrym could be with Rhiannon in her physical form. She had haunted him since she died, her soul slipping into his mind and speaking to him with her voice. I'd learned from Moira that Jerrym could be with her in Tir. And that was one thing I really didn't want to see.

So perhaps I moved a bit more slowly up the steps, letting him reach the city first and disappear into it before I reached the top.

And then I realized we had a problem. Patches of Tir were missing, and when I glanced at the moon I saw clouds gathering rapidly. A storm moving in quickly. I shifted to the wyvern form that is my most comfortable and took to the air as Tir began to dissolve.

Jerrym came running to the top of the steps, moving down them quickly. I watched him, ready in case, and my help was needed. The stairs disappeared beneath him, and he tumbled through the air.

My heart was in my mouth as I swooped after him, catching him in my claws. Idiot. He had gone to Tir-na Nog'th with no one watching over him, and when it had started to fade he hadn't had the sense to Trump down.

I didn't say a word as I landed, settling him on the ground, and then shifted back into myself. The wind had picked up, blowing around us, and fat raindrops began to fall. I took out my Trump of the castle, and removed myself to drier surroundings. Jerrym simply walked away, not bothering to Trump back.

My mood was jumbled, confused, as I made my way back to my rooms. I sat down upon the couch and shuffled out my Trump of Alexander. At least, this time, he merely blocked -- the card didn't seem to turn to ice in my hands. But he didn't answer either. And he was, perhaps, the only other person besides Stephan himself that I could ask for help.

I needed to settled myself, so I brought the silvery Pattern of Tir to mind, and concentrated upon it, feeling it smooth my jangled nerves. My meditation was becoming a crutch perhaps, or an obsession. Something that I could think about to the exclusion of all else.

But it did the trick, and I was able to sleep a disappointingly dreamless sleep.

As dawn light drifted through my window, I awoke and quickly dressed for practice. Only Moira, Bleys and Jerrym were there that morning, Bleys as cheerful as ever.

"Are you ready?" Moira asked Jerrym. He didn't even glance at the rest of us, focussed entirely upon his student.

"I guess that leaves the two of us," Bleys said mildly, watching the two begin a dance of swordplay.

"Exactly what I was going to say." I turned my back on the practicing pair and concentrated instead upon my work with Bleys. Again, I worked with the closest match to the Pattern blade that I could find, learning its weight and length, how it differed from the feel of my rapier so greatly.

Bleys didn't make it easy on me, nor on Moira and Jerrym. I finally realized that he was doing it on purpose. He would turn me about, so that as he pressed me and I had to fall back, I was in the way of the other pair's lesson. Moira didn't seem to realize Bleys did it on purpose, but I could see that Jerrym did.

Finally Jerrym stopped, putting up his weapon, one hand on his hip as he stared angrily at Bleys.

Of course, we stopped as well. "Would you prefer team practice?" I asked.

"No," Jerrym said quickly and firmly.

I glanced at him, "That was to him," I indicated Bleys, "not to you."

"It is not going to happen," Jerrym repeated firmly. "Stop it, Bleys."

"Or what?" Bleys grinned engagingly at him, and I could see it only infuriated Jerrym further.

Finally Jerrym sighed, and stalked away, moving Moira with him until they were far from us, on the other side of the practice field. Bleys's glance followed them, his expression amused. "My, my. Looks like someone is having a bit of a problem. Frustration, do you think?"

I shrugged, at first trying to avoid the question, not entirely certain I wanted to travel down that route. But Bleys's charming smile finally wrestled a comment from me. "Why do you say that? He has never been the most polite when he is teaching."

"I suppose."

I found myself defending him, dropping into old habits. I'm not sure they'll ever completely fade. I could be a thousand and I think I will still feel something for Jerrym. "Besides, you could stand to fight for five minutes without baiting the boy."

"He needs to get used to it." Bleys's tone was mild as we continued to spar.

"But she is still too new to it," I pointed out. "Besides, I don't think he wants to try to teach and defend at the same time."

His gaze pinned me. "Don't think he's good enough?"

"I don't know it he thinks he's good enough," I answered honestly.

Bleys nodded, parrying my shot easily. "You think he doubts his own abilities." He punctuated his observation with a thrust, which I ducked and sidestepped, bringing my blade up to move his aside.

"As a teacher," I allowed.

"Probably." Bleys smiled, then put up his sword. "Well, I shall try not to outshine him then. What would you like to learn today?"

I considered it a moment, as I stopped as well. "Something new."

"Very well." Bleys turned, setting his sword to the side. "Drop your sword."

I likewise put mine to the side, and then spent the rest of the hour learning how little I knew about hand to hand combat. Samuel had taught me some, enough to defend myself, but not enough to make a great showing that morning. What Bleys taught was also more defensive... he didn't come at me, kicking and punching, but rather would trap me in a lock and then I'd find myself upon the ground, Bleys on top of me, and I was pinned. At one point, I looked up to find my main gauche in his hand, the tip resting gently against my throat.

"You must be ready for anything," he said mildly, flipping the blade in his hand and offering it to me hilt first as he helped me up. "Now you try it." He moved so that I could see the dagger he carried, and I tried to repeat the move he had made, managing to bruise myself further in the process.

And then finally we were done. I wasn't winded, but I ached, and longed for a long hot bath or at least a chance to refill my reserves and shift the pain away. Which meant I wanted breakfast.

Bleys and I were alone at breakfast, and for once it was peaceful. Lydia joined us, looking vaguely confused that early in the morning. She looked at both of us, and finally asked slowly, "Forgive me for asking, but what day is it?"

I remembered awakening with much the same question myself just the day before. "Two days since the new Queen's arrival," I told her.

"I last saw you at her party," Bleys added with a smile at Lydia. "That was not last night, but the night before."

"Oh..." Lydia looked surprised.

"Sleeping it off?" Bleys looked mildly amused.

I understood how she felt, and was honestly curious. "Any good dreams?"

"No, no, not that I remember." Her expression of confusion didn't go away, as she added, "No one has seen me wandering around the castle?"

"Should we have?" Bleys inquired.

"Have you sleepwalked before?" I added.

"Yes," she murmured, still thoughtful.

"Sleeping works far better when you stay in your bed," I told her, with a hint of a smile. Like I was one to talk, remembering my torn hands after that dream... I quickly caught my mind before it wandered too far down that track.

"Well, you look fine," Bleys was assuring Lydia, who assured us in turn that she felt fine as well. They discussed her physical well-being for a bit, and Bleys finally suggested that perhaps she should see a physician in the Courts, someone more familiar with her physiology, who might be able to tell if she were suffering from some latent poison that caused "her type" to sleep the day away.

Knowing full well that he meant shapeshifters, I'm sure my expression was priceless for a moment. It certainly wasn't something I had thought of before! But I discarded it quickly, reassuring myself that Lydia and I had slept for entirely different reasons.

As we continued to talk, bantering about different possibilities for Lydia's oversleeping, I felt something strange. The fine hairs on the back of my neck standing up, and a faint shiver sliding over my body, making my skin feel as if it crawled. Or perhaps as if something slipped spiderwebs over it.

Dread.

That was the best word for it. I was feeling whatever it was Jerrym had spoken of. That he had been warned about by so many people already. And if I was feeling it now, I was concerned that perhaps that meant it was getting rather close.

It was an unpleasant feeling, as if something were going to happen any second. If I turned just at the right moment, I would see something horrific. I made a face, and then tried to ignore it. But a moment's curiosity caught me, and I thought to meditate. I glanced up at Lydia, remembering that she had also taken the Logrus, and then murmured, "Excuse me."

I removed myself to the other end of the table and brought the silvery Pattern of Tir to mind. I meditated upon it, and paid attention to that strange sense. Nothing changed. Frowning to myself, I dropped the sense of the Pattern and rejoined the conversation at the other end of the table.

"Feeling better?" Bleys asked.

"Somewhat," I murmured. I realized then that I had eaten, and with a soft sigh I let my body shift, straightening out the bumps and bruises until my skin was smooth and without injury. I felt the hunger return, and quickly filled my plate again.

Bleys was concerned with Lydia's condition again, suggesting that it was perhaps an altercation between the Pattern and Logrus within her. He offered to keep an eye on her as she slept next. But Lydia wasn't certain that was the best of her options, and I can't blame her for that. The idea of Bleys watching over me as I slept... it doesn't sound like the most intelligent of positions to place oneself in.

And after a while, as I concentrated, Bleys finally left. He reminded me, of course, that if I found out anything else, "about that matter we discussed" that I should talk to him. I agreed... knowing that I wouldn't until I found out everything I needed to know.

Lydia wasted no time in pointing out my new jewelry.

"A recent acquisition," I shrugged, indicating that it was nothing important. "It was pretty."

I could tell by her expression that she didn't believe me. So I turned the subject back to her sleeping disorder. "You've taken both Pattern and Logrus?" When she nodded, I mused, "That can't possibly feel good. Maybe they are doing something to you."

"I don't know," she admitted. "I don't anyone here who might be able to tell me." Lydia hesitated then, and said slowly, "No I do know who might be able to tell me."

"Who?" I asked, curious.

She took a long time to answer, almost as if she thought saying his name might summon him somehow. "Dworkin." She shook her head. "I don't even want to go there."

"Go where?" a voice inquired from the other end of the table. It seemed she had been right, for there he sat.

The spoke, at length, about Lydia's problems. Dworkin kept offering to help, and Lydia wasn't sure she wanted whatever help he offered. But finally she admitted she was frustrated, and accepted whatever he could give her.

Which was a book. He instructed her to hit herself in the head with it rhythmically, or to take it internally. At the time, I thought the latter meant to read it. But afterwards, thinking about it, and about her as a shapeshifter, I wondered if he meant something else entirely.

I took my leave of Lydia then, and retired back to my room for a while. To meditate, and see if I could understand more of that sense of dread I was feeling. Meditating brought me no more understanding of it, although it did calm my nerves a bit. I decided that after my meeting... then I would find Jerrym and let him know that I was feeling it as well.

But for now... I was anxious, and uptight, and nervous. Long before noon I made my way to the beach, and settled down near the steps to Rebma. I thought about meditating some more, but couldn't do it. Couldn't sit still. So I paced around the beach, waiting.

Noon came and went. I walked for a bit, then stopped, and drew in the sand with my toe, erasing the pattern with a quick brush of my foot then doing it again. I couldn't contain the energy, so I kept moving, letting it out as best I could.

It was almost a half hour after the time of our meeting when he arrived. He came up the stairs, out of the water. The crossbow was in his hand, a bolt nocked and pointed not quite at me. He wasn't at the ready, but it wouldn't take much motion for that bolt to be aimed directly at me.

His eyes scanned the beach before settling on me. And I was watching him in turn. He wasn't clad all in black this time. His clothes were blue, at first, until he stepped onto the beach. Then they shifted to the color of sand, camouflaging him against the sandy backdrop.

I stopped in my movements and looked at him, carefully staying still.

With careful movements he removed the bolt from the bow and the unstrung the bow and put that up as well. He hadn't moved more than a step or two from the stairs to Rebma. And we stared at each other across, perhaps, ten feet of beach.

"You called this meeting," he said in a low voice.

"I did," I agreed. I looked around at the long expanse of beach. The lack of trees, of walls. "I feel intensely exposed here."

He didn't respond, and the silence stretched as I waited. Still nothing.

I sighed. "I don't know a single man who is easy to converse with." I looked at him, perhaps almost stared at him, as I dug my feet into the sand. I knew somehow, that if I moved towards him he would run. And I, in turn, felt as if something drew me towards him. Perhaps the memory of the emotion in the dream. Perhaps the confusion about who he was, and what he was to me. But something made me want to move closer. To touch him. I had to resist, so I stayed perfectly still.

"I'm going to ask you what are probably the obvious questions which you are expecting," I explained. My voice dropped low as I admitted, "and other, less obvious ones. But my first is, who are you?"

When he didn't answer, I tried to relax both of us, "You don't need to stay so close to the edge of the water. Its safe here."

"I've been watching you," he admitted, his tone almost flat. When I cocked my head, he continued, "To determine that you were alone. When I determined it was safe, I came out."

I had to smile. "That would explain why you were late. You thought I lied."

"I could not be certain."

"Actually, I'm doing my best to keep you out of a trap." I didn't feel my feet move, but it seemed he was closer. One of us moved then, I wasn't sure which.

"Why?"

I sighed heavily. "I wish I could understand the answer to that."

"Tell me and maybe I will understand," he directed.

"I don't suppose I get to ask the questions first," I said, frustrated.

"You already have," he said plainly. Another hint of motion, perhaps another step. Or a wary wavering. "You know more about me than I do about you."

"I know your name," I said flatly. "I know that..." I hesitated, "I've seen you in a vision in Tir." I didn't hesitate again, and stumbled forward instead. "And I know that there are people looking for you who tend to demand answers first, and then think about how they are asking the questions."

"What did this vision tell you of me."

I felt a smile flit across my face, remembering. "That I knew you. That you were... in some way involved with the future of Amber, or the future of Tir-na Nog'th. I haven't figured that part out yet." I barely paused, and decided to be close to honest. As best I could in this difficult situation. "And that in the vision I trusted you."

He didn't seem to believe me. Or was surprised, perhaps, at where this had led me. "And that is basis enough to attempt to keep me safe from those who would ask first and..."

"I have never been a fan of doing something before you know all the answers," I began my explanation.

"Then you must not do much," he interrupted me.

I looked at him. "I've done my share of jumping in where I shouldn't." Like here, now... I felt a small shiver run up my spine and tried to figure out if he were closer again to me. If I could reach out and touch him... no. I could not.

"Where you shouldn't, and where you don't know, are two different things," he pointed out.

"Probably," I chuckled. "I like to know that if I do something, something else isn't going to come back and bite me later."

The silence stretched again as we considered each other. Staring at him until I had memorized his face again, as if it weren't already etched on my mind's eye. Finally I returned to where this path of the conversation had begun.

"It was a strange enough vision that that lent it some credence. It made me curious about you."

"I don't suppose you would be willing to tell me more of this vision."

"It would probably be breaking some rule somewhere and with my luck Alexander would show up and banish me," I said drily. "You were about to tell me something, in the vision at the end. Something that would have changed me, somehow."

He just watched me, and I filled out my explanation. "I got the feeling that the future we were in was bad, and that something had changed very drastically. And you knew what it was, because I was speaking to a you that had already lived through it and I hadn't. And I told you not to tell me. And you were going to tell me anyway, because you wanted to be where we were."

He stared at me, and I knew he hadn't entirely followed what I had said. I hadn't tried to make it less confusing, had simply spilled what came to my lips as I spoke. He was thinking then, and stepped a bit closer to me without realizing it. I was certain, this time, that it was he who had moved as I stared at him in return.

"How did you know who I was?" My voice was almost a whisper, not wanting to frighten him by making him realize that he had shortened the distance between us.

"I know who everyone is." The words were matter-of-fact. "I made it my business."

"Why?"

He looked at me then. "Not everyone in Amber has been as kind to me as they have been to you, Adrienne."

"I believe that," I nodded. "There are a few who would not be terribly kind to you were they here right now." I thought of Brennan and Bleys, and what they would do if they knew I had been here, with Stephan. How they would love to be here. Love to question him in their own way.

I was afraid there would be nothing left afterwards. And I didn't want to lose him before I understood what he was.

"And yet you seek to protect me from them?" He moved again, another step forward. "Why?"

"Because of the vision," I answered plainly.

"Do you believe in visions that much?"

I thought about that a moment. "I believe in visions that strange. Or if I don't believe in them, I at least believe they deserve to be giving consideration." I hadn't mentioned the hands... hadn't told him about the blood and scrapes upon my palms when I woke from the dream. I smiled slightly then. "I've never been one for making my own life simple."

"There are not many who are."

I stood there, my body stiff as I realized that he was only a few feet from me now. Somehow, someway without noticing it, he had drifted towards me. I could almost sense him there, and I held myself so perfectly still as he moved ever so slightly. I didn't even shift my weight, afraid to scare him away. Wanting him to move closer.

"I've spent a lot of time working with Tir. I pay more attention to it than most," I explained.

"Why?"

I shivered slightly, not letting it show. He had taken another step forward. "Why Tir? Because when I was much younger, I thought it would be interesting. And the more I learned, the more interested I became. Now... I don't know if I have a choice."

He stepped forward again. "Everyone has choices."

I laughed a little, shaking my head. "Not when the only Pattern they see is Tir's."

"In your visions," he asked.

I shook my head. "I have been studying the Pattern. And now the only one I see is Tir's. Tir is a part of me. Or I am a part of it." I stilled my hands then, suddenly realizing that my right hand crossed over the left, twisting the ring upon my finger. With a soft sound of frustration, I moved my hands, clasping them behind my back in a near mirror of his own stance as he stood before me. I looked up at him, waiting for his response.

"Where did you get that ring?" There was an odd note to his voice.

"Why?" I dodged the questions.

"It was in Tir, wasn't it." He didn't really ask, simply stated, already knowing the answer. I could feel a strange sensation building in my stomach, knowing that something was coming. Something was about to change.

"Sort of," I hedged. "I dreamed that I was in Tir. A very, very realistic dream."

"And you saw me."

"And I saw you," I agreed.

"Did I give it to you?" he asked, after staring down at me for a long moment.

"Not exactly. Why?" My voice was firm, wanting to know why his fascination with the ring.

There was a long silence as he stood there. As we both stood there, completely still. I could feel my nerves jangling, shivering. Then his eyes closed, and he slowly drew his left hand up, holding it between us, palm away from me, so that I could see. It wasn't exactly the same... built instead for a man's hand, with a wider band and a more masculine feel to it. But it swirled silver, upon the ring finger of his left hand.

He was close enough to touch. And I wanted to... Oh, I wanted to. But I was afraid of what he would do if he realized how close he was to me. That only inches separated us now.

"Does it react the same way?" I asked softly.

"I don't know. I don't... meditate."

"May I look at it?" I raised my hand, and he looked at me then, his hand pulling back. "On your hand," I said calmly, soothingly.

"Do not touch me," he cautioned me, looking almost afraid of me somehow. I could feel the tension sitting between us there.

"Why not?" I was confused, and wanted to reach out. To touch the ring. Or his hand.

"You gave me this ring," he said slowly. "In Tir. In a manner of speaking."

"I don't suppose I was disappearing and you touched me?" My voice was light, but I was almost shaking. Terrified and drawn in by the similarities. I hadn't told him about the ring. Hadn't told him exactly what had happened.

"It would appear we are more alike than you thought," he murmured.

"It would." All the light was gone from my voice, and I tried to stay still. I was confused, and uncertain. "Did Alexander banish me?"

He shook his head. "No. Someone else."

I looked around. "Why don't you sit. Its more comfortable than standing."

"I can't stay. Not now."

My brow furrowed in confusion. "Why not now?"

He glanced back towards the water. "Its too close." Then he looked back at me, and his eyes widened slightly, "You're too close. No." His voice was firm, and emphatic as he shook his head. "No. No."

Then he turned and ran into the water. The sand slipped beneath my feet, slowing me down. I hit the water and instinctively took a deep breath before my head went under. I didn't even realize I was doing it until I opened my mouth to yell after Stephan. I gulped in the water, and choked automatically, before I realized I could breathe. The steps to Rebma. I'd never been down them before, and now it was taking me a moment or two to adjust to the concept. Moments that gave Stephan a lead I couldn't afford to give.

I put on another burst of speed, trying to narrow the distance between us. Somewhere in the back of my mind I noticed that gravity seemed normal here, almost as if we ran down steps in dry air. I took the steps two at a time, moving as quickly as I could.

As I approached the bottom of the steps, I drew close to Stephan. I could see guards beyond him, at the gates to Rebma, watching us in bored disbelief.

I was close, so close, and I leapt forward, grabbing onto his arm. As I touched his shoulder, my fingers curled around it and I braced myself on the stairs, pulling back so that he'd turn to face me.

And he did, moving more than I expected. Suddenly his arms were around me, holding me tight, and his lips were pressed against mine. I stiffened in shock, in confusion, and let him kiss me. I couldn't even summon a single thought.

And then his hands moved between us and roughly pushed me away, off the steps. I floundered in the water, swimming quickly back to the steps so that I could run again, screaming "Damnit!" as soon as I could catch my breath in the air of the stairs. But I had lost precious time away from the stairs, and he disappeared into the city, losing himself among the people.

I stopped, and didn't bother to look back at the guards. They had seen stranger things from the townies, and from the nobles, I was certain. Instead I moved out of the flow of traffic, off to the side slightly, and pulled out a damp Trump of Moira. I couldn't stop moving completely as I concentrated, pacing back and forth.

"Oh!" She smiled brightly at me. "Adrienne, hi!"

"I need to know if you know somebody," I blurted out quickly. "Do you have a second? I'm sorry if I'm interrupting -- I know that you've been busy, but..."

"No, no, I've just been finishing up something," she assured me. She did a double take then, realizing that I was soggy as I stood there on the streets of Rebma, with fish nearby. "You're in Rebma."

"That's why I wanted to know if *you* knew somebody," I clarified with a slight smile.

"Do you want to come through?" She held out her hand. "You weren't prepared for this. Do you want some clothes?"

I looked at her then and had to smile. Moira is petite as well, and she stood there before me dressed in little more than seashells and herself. Whereas I was overdressed entirely, in sodden slacks and a tunic, all clingy to me in uncomfortable places. I hoped the sketch was still dry. "Please," I decided.

She sent one of her ladies off for clothing for me, and I took the moment to look around. She was standing in front of a tall mirror, and I realized that it must have something to do with whyever Jerrym had told me not to bother her. When he knew I had, he was going to be upset. "I'm sorry for interrupting."

"No, no," she assured me, "I was just finishing up something for..."

"Jerrym," I completed her sentence. She looked surprised that I knew, and I thought to explain, "I don't know *what* it is, just that you were working on something for him. Because he told me you were busy."

"We've been... practicing together," she hesitated over the word.

And I hastened to assure her that I knew that she was teaching him, and that she wasn't divulging any confidences there. And that in fact... I reached into my pocket, then hesitated, not wanting to expose the sketch to any more water. Not wanting to risk the one image I had of Stephan. After a moment's hesitation, I shifted into his form.

She frowned at me, shaking her head, then her eyes lit up. But it was only that damned appearance at the Pattern. Everyone knew that, and no more.

"He was down here, too," I muttered. "But don't tell anyone that." Shifting back into my form, I slumped down into the nearest chair... er, shell. Figured it didn't matter that I was drenched -- everything here was underwater after all.

The lady returned then with an armful of garments. She handed them to me and pointed to a screen, where I could move behind and change. It took me a moment to realize how it all stayed put, in appropriate places upon my body. Small shells on a halter top to cover my chest, and then a mix of laces and gauze which formed a sort of diaphanous skirt falling around my knees. I folded up my wet clothes neatly, feeling as if I fit in better, and more easily than if I had to shift my shape. But I was left with one problem.

I walked out from behind the screens, smiling at Moira. "People don't wear weapons here, do they?" My belt hung from my upraised hand, the Pattern sword dangling from one side, the main gauche from the other.

"Well, they do," Moira looked at the weapon. "But women don't usually, or they do, but not..."

"There's no place to put a normal weapon here," I laughed a little, gesturing at the gauze that covered my hips.

"I'm sorry," Moira began to apologize, her words spilling over themselves. "I probably should have thought of that and requested clothes that... do you want me to?" I didn't laugh, wondering if she ever really finished sentences. She was always speaking so quickly.

I shook my head. "I just need to make sure that this stays safe." I settled the Pattern blade carefully with my folded clothes on the table. I had come more and more to consider it my blade... even though it was the blade for Rebma's Pattern, not Tir's, and somewhere in my mind I still considered it as belonging to Ardath. After all, it had once belonged to her mother. But to return it, I had to find Ardath herself, and that was still a task for another day.

"So he's here in Rebma?" Moira returned the subject to my original reason for contacting her. I nodded, and she frowned slightly. "And you don't want me to tell anyone. That's okay!" she hastened to reassure me. I don't know what my expression said, but I must have looked worried to her.

"Let's put it this way, Bleys and Brennan aren't exactly thrilled with him," I said dryly.

"Well, Galen did..."

"I'm sorry," I said quickly, interrupting her. I had forgotten how close she and Galen had been. I wondered if I had only made things worse now.

She shook her head. "Its okay, I'm not depressed or anything. Galen was very good to me. But it was a very Galen thing to do, and he'd be upset if he knew we were upset because he wouldn't want us to be upset like he had died for no cause."

"The thing is, I know that he is to blame for that much at least," I sighed. "But we don't know if he was actually intending to shoot at Brennan and Bleys. And we don't know if he's responsible for what happened afterwards. And right now, if they knew I actually knew where he was..." my voice trailed off, and I hesitated, wondering if she could see just how important it was to me that nothing happened to him.

Something I still couldn't entirely understand myself.

"It could get sticky pretty fast," I finally finished up.

"So he's in the city?" I nodded in response to Moira's question, and when she suggested capturing him, I disagreed. I didn't think that would go well at all.

"I just wanted to *talk* to him," I tried to explain.

She looked puzzled. "He didn't want to talk?"

I shook my head, remembering how he had rushed away. "Not for long enough." I sighed heavily. "At least if you don't know him, I know he's not someone important down here. If you see him, could you let me know?"

"Okay," she readily agreed. "I don't get out in the city much, but I could try. Moire would like me to go out into the city more."

I shifted the subject, realizing I could kill two birds with one stone. "Are you going to go talk to Jerrym now?"

"Actually, he was going to come here." She looked wary. "You could probably stay, but I don't know if he would like that."

And I wasn't sure I wanted to know whatever this project was that he was so carefully keeping secret. I'd learned that trying to see inside Jerrym's head didn't always get me images I wanted to remember afterwards.

I started to stumble over my words, the way I always did where Jerrym was concerned. "He probably wouldn't even like the fact that I'm here," I smiled ruefully. "But I just wanted to tell him something. If you're going to call him, you might want to warn him that I'm here before you bring him through."

She moved and retrieved her card of him, and concentrated on him. Then she smiled. "I have the thing that you were looking for ready. But, um, Adri's here. She told me to tell you that she was here because she has something that she wants to talk to you about but she wanted to let you know before you came through that she was going to be here."

I could almost imagine the vaguely glazed look on his face as Moira chattered. Then I remembered that he seems to follow her words better than mine. I was curious to see if he did now, as she rambled.

"She came here on a totally unrelated matter," she assured him, "but she's here now and wanted me to let you know." There was a pause, then she added, "We're all done with our conversation, but if she has to talk to you then that's the only other thing that might take a while."

"It won't take long," I interjected, but she didn't pass it along.

She held out her hand, and then Jerrym stepped through.

I was picking up my clothes as he came through, figuring that this wouldn't take long. "Do you want me to change before I go?" I asked Moira.

She shook her head. "You can keep those for next time, if you ever want to come back. Or have to come back."

"I wouldn't mind coming back," I smiled. "I still haven't gotten my tour of the place."

"It's Amber, its wet. Get on with your life." Jerrym looked at me. I could swear he was scowling, as I stared back at him. Bleys was right -- Jerrym was sounding distinctly nasty today. And given the difficulties with Tir, I would suspect Bleys was right about the reason as well. I hoped, for Jerrym's sake, that Tir-na Nog'th rose and *stayed* in the sky this evening.

"It is *not* Amber!" Moira protested. "It is something else entirely. *You* need a tour."

"I think I'm going to leave before you educate him," I shook my head, as Moira blushed at my words and looked away. "What have you done to her?" I almost smiled, looking at Jerrym. I figured I'd better get what I had to say done and overwith, and get out before he bit my head off again. "Remember that feeling of dread?"

"Yes?"

"I've noticed it."

"Congratulations." His tone was dry, and almost bored.

"You noticed it too?" Moira looked surprised.

"Yes, I'm late!" I snapped, frustrated at feeling like I was the last in the know. The last to have any inkling that something was going to happen. I was just trying to be nice, and let Jerrym know because for some reason I thought of him as a protector of Amber, and he was being an ass and I was feeling ridiculous. As usual.

Moira looked hurt, and confused at my outburst. "I'm sorry," I apologized hastily. "I just spoke with somebody else who said something about 'its too close' and I don't know if he was speaking about Rebma or something else, and considering that I was wondering before if he had something to do with all of this, I thought I would mention that as well."

And it seemed to make sense to me. That something was drawing closer. Something important, something key to the way the future would be. To how it would affect Stephan and I. I shivered again feeling that strange sense around me, of something. And I wondered what it was, and if that was, indeed, what he had been talking about.

"Stephan?" Jerrym pronounced it quickly, and incorrectly. I corrected it, the accent on the second syllable, without even thinking about it. Then confirmed that that was who I meant.

"Still no further from the dark than I was before..." I shrugged. Jerrym didn't seem interested. And I don't know why I had expected him to be. "But if he knows anything about this, which is what I thought after the visions, then that might imply that whatever it is is pretty close."

I looked from Jerrym to Moira, and then shook my head. Time for me to leave. Jerrym only resented me being there, and thought I was interfering as usual. No matter what I do, I will always be that. I gave my thanks to Moira, nodded politely, and left.

I trumped back to the castle, and sodden wet and wearing very little, I made my way through the castle to find some food and go back up to my rooms. I changed there, back into something more normal for Amber, and placed the pretty things aside for the next time I intended to go to Amber. Then I curled up on my bed and meditated, letting the familiar energy swirl around me until it was time for dinner.

Both Flora and Bleys were there again, so I steeled myself for a conversation I just wasn't in the mood for. I hoped that perhaps my mother's presence might mitigate it a bit, or even Chyle's. Jerrym would say nothing. But Lydia... she was there as well, and she has always delighted in teasing me over my foibles, ever since she was the one who introduced my to Samuel... so I could have an education in the more adult things in life. And Brennan and Flora were nearly as bad as Bleys and Flora... although I could hope, perhaps, that father and son might somehow cancel each other out.

Flora began the conversation, glancing over at me. "Have you lost your friend, Adrienne? The one with the big... spear?"

It had started already. Across the table from me, Lydia dissolved into peals of laughter. I tried to ignore it.

"Phineas? He found someone else to accompany him," I said mildly.

"Pity, although perhaps it is someone who appreciates large spears?" Bleys asked with a charming smile.

"Or simply someone who has the time," Brennan suggested. I wasn't sure if he were defending me or simply being practical. I decided to ignore the entire subject and concentrated upon my dinner instead. And Brennan, thankfully, changed the subject. "Did things settle down at all, Chyle?"

Cybele answered instead. "Yes."

"I suppose so," Chyle answered for himself. "I left."

Brennan chuckled. "Considering the atmosphere, perhaps not a bad choice."

I frowned, remembering the last time I had seen my mother and Chyle together, and the terrible shape his sister had been in then. And I believe Brennan had been involved then as well. "Did something happen?"

"You could say that." Chyle's voice was flat, and invited no further questioning. A silence fell, and even Flora and Bleys didn't break it.

"My my my, what a wonderful way to put a damper on the conversation." Cybele picked up her cup and took a sip, glancing at Chyle over the rim of the glass.

"How was everyone else's day?" he shifted subjects abruptly.

"Well, it started out promising, but then Adrienne left," Bleys sighed dramatically.

"My dear, you left breakfast first," I did remind him.

He simply smiled. "I was hoping you would follow."

Why can't I have these conversations with the men that matter? Simple and flirtatious. Enjoyable. Quiet and easy. It's just not fair how tongue-tied I get when things matter.

"I was still eating," I smiled at him. "You should have made your wishes more clear."

Flora looked surprised. "There's a twist." She looked over at Bleys. "Someone has accused you of subtlety."

"I was marveling at the wisdom Adrienne has learned," Brennan's expression was a cross between a smile and a vague condescension. "Breakfast over Bleys." I realized then that the smile was for me, and the condescension for his father. "Breakfast *is* the most important meal of the day?"

I didn't say what was on the tip of my tongue... wondering aloud which meal Bleys was to be then? But I think Lydia must have heard me still, because she could not seem to stop laughing.

The conversation turned, then, to her sleeping habits, and whether any of us had spoken to her and she did not remember. And we all had to agree that we had not spoken to her prior to breakfast that morning... while she was asleep.

The story about Dworkin came out, and everyone was properly amused that she was to eat the book he had given her. But all agreed, he was not to be trusted, which is why Lydia still had the book and had not yet taken it internally. Although some discussion did ensue about the best, and most palatable, way to consume the book.

My mind began to wander then, bored with the topic of Lydia's sleep. I realized that it had been storming most of the day, although it had stopped while I waited on the beach, then spoke to Stephan. And it was storming again now, as I began to think about Tir-na Nog'th.

"It’s a strange time of year for these storms," Brennan mused, almost as if he could read my thoughts. Of course, I was staring off at the walls, as if I could see the outside... my thoughts weren't entirely hidden either.

"And annoying," I muttered.

"For those who wish to go to Tir." Bleys sounded amused by my frustration.

"Has anyone seen Alexander recently?" I asked, shifting the subject. "Within the past couple of days."

"About a week ago," Brennan offered. "He seemed fine then."

I sighed. "I've been trying to get in touch with him. I suppose he has been busy."

"I hope to hear from him later." Jerrym's voice was low, and matter-of-fact. I had thought he was ignoring the entire conversation until then.

"Would you mind letting him know that I am looking for him, or perhaps let me know when he is around?" I asked, but Jerrym just stared at me with that damnably mild expression.

"Perhaps."

I stared at him for a moment, as he went back to eating, and realized that this was because of Moira. Because I had interrupted Moira and taken away someone he was working with, if only for a moment. He didn't want me to bother Alex because Alex was also busy on his behalf.

And if Alex was working on something for him... it had to do with Tir-na Nog'th. Which meant Rhiannon. I felt myself drawing inwards again, both hurt and annoyed. I had been trying to trust him of late. I wished he could at least do the same for me.

Brennan was looking at me. "Has his royal highness expressed any opinions regarding your frequent trips into... the unknown?" He glanced up, but I didn't need that to know he was speaking of Tir.

"I haven't even *seen* Oberon since the interview," I said dryly. "And we did not speak about Tir at that time."

"At some point in the past he had expressed his general displeasure..." Brennan began.

I cut him short, knowing full well what he was talking about. "That was after Alexander died. He closed it off."

Brennan shrugged. "Perhaps he has decided to do so again. If I am not completely wrong, he has a powerful artifact that I have heard is capable of controlling the weather."

"Or perhaps it is simply that something is going very very wrong and this is a part of it," I snapped.

"All right, who has felt the portents?" Bleys asked in a lazy sounding voice. All the hands except Chyle's & Flora's went up, even Lydia and Jerrym.

"Does anybody have any bright ideas on what it is?" I asked. I looked around at everyone, staring back at me, silent. "Okay... so that answer would be no."

"That answer would be no," Brennan agreed. "Adrienne, you have to admit this isn't a first."

"Yes, but I'd rather know where it is and when its going to be," I said dryly. "Because if it is going to land on me soon, I want to know where I should duck."

"Adrienne, as much as I would like to know what is going on, I'm still cleaning up from the last one. I don't really have time to deal with it." Brennan sounded like he was trying to be considerate, trying to comfort me in some ways. I didn't take much comfort from it.

"Perhaps it is related," Chyle mused.

"To what?" I looked at him, and at Brennan, curiously. I suddenly realized that the mess Brennan was speaking of *wasn't* the fight at the primal Pattern. Wasn't his brother's death. There was something else going on as well.

"I think it is up to Chyle whether we discuss that," Brennan slid the discussion over to Chyle instead, and I shifted my attention there as well.

"My Uncle Balor. We're still trying to hunt him down," Chyle explained.

"Hunt him down?" I echoed. "What happened."

"He's a backstabbing wretch of a bastard, that's what happened," Brennan said in a mildly vehement voice.

Chyle explained then. "He was a tool of Sebastian. He is the one who admitted Sebastian's children into my ways."

"He is also the one who tried to kill Margarethe, Chyle, and myself," Brennan added.

"And he is the one who imprisoned my sister."

I nodded, remembering healing his sister after the rescue.

"He has escaped," Chyle said in a low voice. "We believe we had another run in with his handiwork today. I lost another brother."

"I'm sorry." I don't know if my voice was sincere, but I meant it to be. It was hard, because I didn't know the person Chyle had lost, but I do consider Chyle a friend, and I wanted him to know that his losses bothered me.

"We thought that he might be under either Balor's or Sebastian's control," Chyle explained, his voice flat. "Brennan had a way to detect it, and when we went to confront him, there was a failsafe spell which killed him."

Even Brennan's voice was grave. "Apparently even from beyond the grave, Sebastian doesn't like to lose his pawns. Either that or Balor has taken a page from Sebastian's book."

Flora left then, frustrated by our depressing conversation. We had traveled from one serious topic to the next, and apparently had chased her away.

I watched her leave, musing over something in my mind. I had something to add to the conversation, but wasn't sure mentioning my visions was to the best, given how entangled they were, of late, with Stephan. I tried to divorce it from that, saying, "To add to the portents, one of my recent visions in Tir referred to a time before."

"Before what?" Brennan asked.

"That would be the question. And I didn't get to find out," I couldn't keep the frustration from my voice. "Which is why I need to speak with Alexander. But I was wondering if what is happening is so cataclysmic that the merest mention of Oberon's name brings a blank look."

"Not to offend, Adrienne," Brennan's voice had returned to its usual dryness. "But that is a typically vague Tir image. Isn't this the place that referred to your ruling Amber and crushing everything?"

"Scarily enough, yes," I said slowly, not wanting to go there, entirely, given the scenes I had seen with Stephan. "I don't want to rule Amber. And I'm sure the rest of you are terrified of even the mere concept."

"Has Oberon named a successor?"

I glanced at Bleys. "No, I believe he was distracted by a wife." My tone was dry, and I didn't bother to hide my disapproval. As much as I like her, I cannot approve of Oberon leaving Amber's welfare to simply go the way it does. I am tired of his little tests and jaunts. I care more for Amber than that.

"I believe he has decided to make one from scratch," Brennan suggested.

"Let us hope that he did not decided to take a page from Sebastian," Bleys said in that slow dry tone of his, just a little lilt on the end as if we weren't quite sure he was joking. I pointed out that Oberon had already taken his son's ways in some part, as he certainly had produced quite a passel of children. But that, of course, was not what Bleys had referred to.

I didn't point out that Oberon had his own faults as a parent. But Brennan was never one for keeping quiet. "Oberon prefers the old-fashioned methods of dissent and disgruntlement for parents."

And I had to agree with Brennan. I couldn't be sure I could paint Oberon any better a father than Sebastian. And I couldn't be sure he didn't wish to use his children just as much. He was just more subtle about it.

The conversation finally returned to the threat that we all felt, and how lost we all were as we considered it. No one knew where to look, how to find out what it was that we felt hovering on the edge of our consciousness. The Pattern saw nothing differently. And I knew little of the other powers that might show us something. Someone, I don't recall, suggested searching shadow, but as Jerrym dryly pointed out, shadow is indeed infinite... and even if the threat is coming towards us, who is to say which direction it travels from?

We wondered if perhaps it were speeding up... Brennan felt it several days past, but I only felt it that morning, and Lydia felt it for the first time during dinner. "Perhaps," I suggested, "Some of us just haven't noticed it until it was too close. And too late." I heard my echo of Stephan's words, and wondered again if he knew something... something more than we did.

As our conversation turned to Phineas, and the fact that I could not confirm with Benedict that Phineas was, indeed, to be trusted, Bleys grew distracted. After a moment, he excused himself and left. It seemed to be a signal, almost, and Jerrym simply stood and left as well.

"Adrienne, if you learn anything more concrete about our impending demise..."

I smiled at Brennan, "Of course I will be willing to share."

He returned the smile, chuckling as he added, "And if I learn anything I will be certain to bring it to dinner and depress Flora again."

"Somehow I get the feeling we may not get until another dinner to figure this out," I said softly, feeling certain that that were true.

"Well then," Brennan's smile never faltered. "We won't have to worry about depressing Flora then."

Cybele interrupted then, asking to speak with Brennan, who in turn made an appointment to speak with Chyle later. Then Cybele and Brennan left together, leaving me alone with Chyle and Lydia. I wasn't expecting conversation to be any more coherent now.

It was, perhaps, better than I had expected, but I wasn't interested in participating. My mind was off elsewhere, still on the impending doom. Still upon Stephan. I tried to Trump Alex one more time, but he still did not answer.

With half an ear I listened to them talk about the Courts and the news. That Margarethe had married Chyle's brother, cementing the connection between Sebastian's children and Mishrak. That Lydia had joined House Barimen for the time, and was having her Ways stitched to my those of my mother. That Simon, whom Lydia had brought to Amber after our appearance at the Primal Pattern, and subsequent scattering, was now working in the library of Amber.

None of it really interested me. I wanted to speak with Stephan again. Needed to speak with him. The conversation had left me unsatisfied, and if he knew something... something that could save Amber. Save us. I needed to know it.

I finally stood, in the middle of the conversation, and excused myself. I made my way back to my room, mentally preparing for the headache I knew I would give myself. I had contacted Stephan once before by use of the Pattern. And I intended to do so again. The first impression had ended far too abruptly. It was time for the second.