Rosalind waits until she and her father are well out of earshot of the other departing relatives and on their way back to the part of the family wing claimed by the descendants of Clarissa to discuss anything with Bleys other than the vagaries of the weather, the roads, and other such trivialities.

Once they are within doors - his or hers - she turns to Bleys, and says, "That was absolutely fascinating. I should attend these meetings more often. Are they always this exciting, or did you all decide to put on a show for the children?"

"Hardly, and yes, absolutely," Bleys chuckles, putting an affectionate arm around her shoulders to give her a quick squeeze. He opens the door and walks into his chambers, assuming she'll shut the door behind them.

She does so, with a reflexive glance down the hall both ways to make sure no one is lurking.

The corridor is empty and they are alone.

Bleys unpins his cloak from his shoulder and in one flourish throws it in a heap on his bed on his way across the room. Halfway across, his sword-belt is unbuckled and thrown with uncanny accuracy on top of the cloak as Bleys makes his way unerringly to the bottle of wine waiting for him on the far side of the room.

"Good God!" he exclaims and stops suddenly. "My feet are killing me." He looks down at his mud-splattered boots, eyes narrowing.

There's a pause and Rosalind can sense she's about to witness the rather un-characteristic manifestation of the red-headed temper in her Father.

"Next time," he turns directly to Rosalind, "if I even start for one instant to trust either Fiona or Brand to do any kind of job for me. Remind me just how wrong I am!

"Let's get Bleys to hellride halfway across Shadow while he's trying, with the other hand, to juggle Eric and Amber. Why? Obviously to drive me insane. Why! Because they're not speaking to each other! Un-be-liev-able. Sometimes my siblings astound even me!" His voice is laden with sarcasm and deep frustration.

He pauses.

"I need someone to beat on," he remarks. "I don't suppose Random showed his face recently, did he?"

Rosalind shakes her head in the negative. "Ask Drake," she suggests.

Bleys stops and looks at her.

A slow grimace appears as he catches himself. The gaze softens as he looks upon his daughter, and Rosalind senses just how exhausted her Father is.

"I'm sorry, kitten," Bleys says using an affectionate name he has for her. "You don't need to hear my troubles. You must be wondering what's going on.

"Would you care to join me?" he asks, his blue gaze returning to her with more of his accustomed good humor. "I hate to drink alone. And given the current situation, I also imagine you have a good many questions. Now would seem the time to answer them."

"Of course, Daddy." Rosalind comes to join him, opening the cabinet door to find glasses. "Another shipment of Vezelay wine arrived while you were gone. I can send for something better if you like." She comes up with two crystal goblets. "I thought I was going to have to excuse myself to call you, or do it right there in front of Eric. It would have been interesting to see how things fell out if I'd had to." The two stems land on the counter, perhaps a little harder than they ought to have.

Rosalind's father does not remark on her offer to get 'something better' instead he follows her movement with the stems, and then pours them each a glass.

She turns back to look at her father. "As for what's going on, I think it's obvious enough to anyone who's paying attention. External issues notwithstanding, the pressure in Amber is between you and Eric. Brand and Fiona have kept you busy and I'm guessing Eric had control of the invitation list. Whoever did, Deirdre felt that it benefitted Eric too much and arranged for you to be there. Either she didn't want you here badly enough to trump you in or you preferred the dramatic entrance." She arches an enquiring eyebrow at Bleys, but continues without giving him a chance to speak.

Bleys studies Rosalind while she continues.

"Caine declared independence from Eric on behalf of himself and his brothers, with this business of searching for Corwin, and all it cost was Dina's heart." She shrugs, but her shoulders fall back into the same angry set afterwards. "So I suppose my only questions are whether you really think you're going to find Grandfather and how you and Eric are going to keep from killing each other while you're doing it."

He moves to sit down in an easy chair with his wine and gestures toward another chair so that she may join him.

Rosalind does so, sitting forward in her own chair. Her grip on the wineglass is tight, but not enough to damage the heavy crystal.

"Damn," he says, "I'm in the doghouse, aren't I?" he pauses to sip his wine.

By way of an answer, a tight-lipped smile flashes across Rosalind's face.

"Your summation of the current situation, by the way, is flawless. I knew about the meeting in advance, but not the exact time. While I was haggling with Fiona and Brand, I wasn't taking trump calls and no-one except Deirdre bothered to send me a message through Shadow. I know you would have done the same if you had been aware of the meeting in the first place."

He shrugs. "I'm afraid I took advantage of Deirdre's consideration to rub it in Eric's face. She's strong enough to deal with it. It is too bad about Dina though. I had nothing to do with that."

"Oh, no, that was obviously Caine and Gerard's ploy. And it's all to do with Eric, too, or they would have had us all searching for someone who's more likely to be alive, like Benedict, or taking a different avenue to search for Grandfather."

Rosalind takes a sip of her wine as Bleys continues.

"As far as your Grandfather is concerned if either Eric or myself wind up dead while out looking for him then neither of us will sit on the throne." He watches her reaction to that.

"If he's alive." Rosalind's tone is flat.

"Long term, Eric and I may have to settle this the hard way but that time has not yet come. I've not let you into my plans because once I do, there's no going back and there's no denying it. If you know what I'm doing, then you're implicated in my actions whether or not you agree with them. So I have to know this is something you want.

"Before we tackle that," he reflects for a moment, "why don't you tell me what's really on your mind?"

The tight-lipped smile is back. "My troubles are trifling. I don't have any brothers who want to kill me, or even any brothers I might want to kill. We can leave them for now. Why don't you tell me what's happening with my aunt and uncle? If they required your personal intervention, I'm sure it will spill over on to me and Diomedes, and this time I'd like to have some warning before something blows up in my face."

"Your Aunt and Uncle are working on a project for me out in Shadow. They had a difference of opinion and needed me to mediate. A little cooling off period is necessary, but I don't see it as particularly serious at this stage -no more than usual considering our inherited temper.

"Your Aunt and Uncle and I have agreed this will not spill out on our children. The moment you suspect it might, let me know immediately."

Rosalind suppresses a laugh at the idea of it not spilling over onto her and Diomedes, and the only thing that comes out is a noise that an indelicate soul might call a snort.

Bleys regards her thoughtfully for a moment, then he chuckles softly.

He pauses. "I know I'm being unnecessarily obtuse here, but this is the nature of our problem. Telling you any more takes us back to the same place where we were earlier, you may or may not want to know what the exact nature of their project is. I would take you into my full confidence, but alas there is a price."

Bleys looks at Rosalind and she can sense, for once, he is being utterly straight with her.

"There's a price to everything in Amber, it's the unfortunate cost of having the world at your feet. While I'm protecting you, I cannot tell you everything. Not even I can do both."

"We all have our limits, Daddy." Rosalind leans forward in her chair.

Bleys is in the middle of lifting his glass when he pauses at this statement. She sees a flicker of amusement in his eyes as she continues.

"Does this project have to do with the juggling act with Vezelay, or is that separate?"

"Yes, but only indirectly. The Vezelay betrothal was about you, and always has been. I've never said as much but you can play it through as you see fit.

"The betrothal has its own merits, but the circumstances of it serve another purpose, and that is related to the project out in Shadow. The two just happened to dovetail nicely, and you know how I like to seize an opportunity."

"The Vezelay betrothal is about Grandfather's ambitions, and Mother's, on the one hand, and Philip's father's and brothers', not to mention his own, on the other. It's fortunate that the two principals stand a chance of getting along, but really, is any more required of me than that I look presentable and know how to behave in public?" Rosalind asks tartly.

"Quite right!" Bleys says proudly. "Except," he adds, "for the last part. Much more is required of you, as my daughter. That shouldn't come as a shock. I've high hopes for you, you've done me proud many times. This conversation proves that.

"You see the crux of it. You see the positions of your Grandfather and Mother, the question is...what are you going to do with that understanding?

"What do you want out of this? What move will you make?

"I look forward with interest to finding out."

"You see the crux of it. You see the positions of your Grandfather and Mother, the question is...what are you going to do with that understanding? "What do you want out of this? What move will you make? "I look forward with interest to finding out."

A frown mars Rosalind's pretty face. "You could find out as well by asking me.

"So," Bleys settles back clearly interested to see where this is going, "let me ask you...what do you want out of this and what move will you be making next?"

"I'll let you know when I decide what I'm going to do. I don't think you want me to make that decision right now. I don't do well with being kept ignorant of information that's important to me. I wish you'd told me you what you were up to with Philip, Daddy. I'd rather have heard it from you than him, even if I was pretty sure that was what you were doing anyway."

"Ah," Bleys smiles, "but if I had told you, then you wouldn't have learned what you did. Nor would I know the day I've been waiting for has finally arrived. We'd never be having this conversation, if I hadn't kept you ignorant long enough to get you mad about it. When you were younger, it was necessary to protect you by keeping certain things from you. This conversation reveals that's no longer necessary. "By all means, I will keep nothing important from you from now on. Ask me a question and I'll answer." Rosalind can tell that her Father is simultaneously enthused by her conversation and yet perfectly serious.

Rosalind sits back in her chair and looks at her father. "All right, then. We'll start with two questions. Do you think this task of finding Corwin is the same kind of test-to see what we'll do with obviously incomplete information about what our assorted parents and their siblings want? And what exactly are Aunt Fiona and Uncle Brand quarrelling about that they required you to settle it?"

"No," Bleys responds. "The time for testing is past. The situation in Amber dictates there's no longer time for testing by any party.

"It's a purely political move on Caine's part. He doesn't even think Corwin can be found, but it's a sure way to rain on Eric's parade. It's time to see who can buy Caine off first. Me or Eric.

"Although Gerard's stunt was unexpected. I wouldn't mind if Corwin was found. He can make a great ally...and we had some good times in the past."

"Corwin's not going to be found. Either he's dead or he doesn't want to be found," Rosalind opines.

Bleys nods and comments, "Either is possible."

"Of course it's about embarrassing Eric, or Caine would have sent us off to look for someone we might actually find, like Benedict. If you want to rub some salt in his wounds, contact everyone left off the guest list for this little shindig, Since everyone can tell Eric was trying to cut you out, make common cause with the ones like Random that he actually did it to. It can't hurt."

She bites her lip in the way that Bleys has learned means she's thinking about a particularly nettlesome question that's going to bother her until she solves it. "What I don't yet understand is why us, or why all of us. Part of it is to watch each otherplenty of witnesses that waybut it doesn't seem like enough. Diomedes and Miho will do what they're told, and so will Obi, but Dina and Drake are loose cannons. I suspect Caine and Gerard think I can be pushed around the way they do Diomedes, but they have another think coming."

"Indeed, they do," her Father answers proudly.

"In the matter of your Aunt and Uncle. Well, I'll be blunt. We've been looking outside of Amber for allies. Fi and Brand were out in Shadow conducting negotiations when Brand took some... unilateral action of his own."

Bleys grins then takes a hearty swallow of his wine.

"You can imagine what happened next...your Aunt Fi hates surprises."

Rosalind gives Bleys a look that he can best read as "no kidding".

"So I went to see what could be salvaged. To be honest, most of the damage was to Fi's pride more than anything else. She hates it when Brand doesn't even bother to argue first. But, right now, I need them to act together. Some cooling off time is appropriate...he'll come around."

"I hope so. Is there anything I need to do to smooth Aunt Fiona over?" Rosalind asks.

"You've got more courage than most of your Uncles," he remarks.

Rosalind arches a pair of perfect eyebrows at Bleys.

"Between the two of us, Fi's been stressed out by Brand for the last few weeks. She likes to pretend she doesn't need anyone, but she does. I'm sure a call from one of her favorite students wouldn't go amiss..."

He pauses.

"You might want to take the next chance you have to talk to Diomedes. It wouldn't hurt to keep an eye on him. I don't think he'll get caught in the cross fire, but I'd be interested in anything he picks up from either of them."

"I'll let you know if he says anything useful," Rosalind agrees. Her opinion of the crossfire between Brand and Fiona already having been expressed, she doesn't reiterate it. "I'll let you know how thngs go for us-whether we decide to go along with this silly plan once we're out of sight of our complaining uncles or do something useful-and you keep me posted on how the search for Grandfather is going. And this-other alliance."

"Agreed," her Father nods and finishes his wine.

"Well, I do believe I'm getting a second wind," he declares. "And I'm ravenous enough to eat a horse! Have you eaten yet?"

"No, and I refuse to let Eric's dyspepsia put me off my feed. Shall we?" Rosalind rises, obviously expecting her father to offer his arm to escort her to dinner.

He laughs at her remark at Eric's expense, and rises to his feet to offer Rosalind his arm, and escort her to some fine establishment befitting them both.