Mobius

Once Diomedes has said his temporary farewells to his lady love and approaches the cowled women, he finds himself intercepted by a young adult woman in their retinue.

Diomedes pulls up his stride and executes a quick bow to her.

The young woman reaches out and takes his hand, and folds a piece of welshin (Rebman paper) into his hands. "Not here," she smiles enigmatically at him. "But they know your intention. And, they *will* receive you. Now is not the time or place though." Her rare blue eyes peek down at Diomedes closed fist. "There are directions. Anyone could tell you the way to the temple, but if you do what they say- your privacy will be assured."

Diomedes does not look down at the piece of paper, instead regarding the Seer. The depression and darkness are still at bay but only just.

"I will be there to meet you," she curtsies. "That's when you'll ask me my name." She wrinkles hers nose as she smiles. "I'll wait till then," as she adds lightly as she turns quickly. "I've been warned not to flirt with you. You're getting married someday!"

"Until then." Diomedes agrees.

The strange but merry young woman bolts before Diomedes can say much...

Diomedes regards the woman's dancing away and back to the women. He takes a few strides through the Throne Room and then looks back. Thermodosa has already come back to Theano, he notes, and it is possible they will quickly pick up their long and elaborate matrimonial plans that he had so cruelly and basely destroyed a year ago.

• She looks happy*. Diomedes thinks. *And she deserves happiness*, he adds. His eyes then look in the direction of the space which the Seers formerly occupied.

• If you are going to kill me tonight, then be merciful to her, after* Diomedes says to himself. *Be merciful to her*.

And then Diomedes turns and walks out of the Throne Room and through the corridors of the Palace, with a surety of remembered corridors and passages to lead him back outside to the city itself. The welshin document is still clasped in his hand, but he moves it to his pocket now, once he stands on the steps outside the palace. They weren't immediately ready to receive him, Diomedes thinks. There is time...

And then a thought comes into his mind. Its only a small spell, and perhaps it will work without it, and especially because he seeks it. The Sword is here, somewhere. Perhaps where he thinks its is, and perhaps in another location.

Diomedes closes his eyes, and slowly creates the spell in word, form, and mind. A simple seeking spell, with a limited range, but potent and detailed all for it. When he finally speaks, it is in a dialect and tongue learned far away from the City Under the Sea, an ancient chthonic language. The currents around him grow colder as he unleashes the seeking spell.

"Pagono. Where are you? Show your location to me and if you can, come to my hand!"

Diomedes' vision clouds over, and he can see his blade buried halfway
in something he can't quite discern. More to the point, he can feel it
is relatively close in proximity. Perhaps a journey of an hour or two?
He has a sense of Pagono's direction too, in the direction of
Faiella-Bonin. The sword will not come to him though, it never has
before but always relying on him to claim it, and Diomedes lacks the
right incantation to summon it.

"Still too far." Diomedes murmurs in a disappointed tone. "Too far."

Choosing to keep his appointment, he unfolds the welshin and reads the
instructions written there. The instructions are not 'arcane', but
quite specific and detailed- curious even. Examples include; what
streets to take, where to turn, nodding to a gentlemen in dark blue
trunks who will be crossing him from the left, which shop window to
tarry in front of and for how long.

Strange as they are, when Diomedes follows them carefully, every step
falls into place seamlessly.. magically. It might occur to Diomedes
that while the welshin holds no magic, no power in of itself, it is
something of a map of dark waters. His father, Brand, would find it a
wonder- a map of temporal casualty. It begs the question, is Diomedes
forging the future by following it?

Diomedes resists the urge to read it again and again as the map's
instructions and directions, both physically and temporally, unfold.
He is tempted to try and break the chain, but decides that this is not
the time to defy fate. He has made a Promise and he will keep it.

Diomedes arrives down a side street behind a prominent building that
might be a temple. Odd in that it is one of the few buildings that
have no windows. A side door, the kind used for discretion or
deliveries, opens to reveal the young woman who handed him the welshin
note in the first place. She smiles at Diomedes, not terribly
menacing, and beckons him towards her.

"Good," she breathes as he enters and she pulls the door closed behind
him. "Follow me," she motions, "I'll take you to a room where someone
will receive you."

Diomedes gives a nod of his head and follows her inside of the building.

The building is well appointed, and mirrors decorate it in many
places- but there are many ramps and handrails as well. As if some
special effort has been made to accommodate the visually impaired.

His eyes take it all in, rotating his head and gaze slightly as he
progresses. On occasion, at random, he reaches out to stroke one of
the elegant handrails made of rust-proof or proofed metals. Gleaming,
form and function and design. Diomedes is not surprised that some of
the handrails could almost act as mirrors themselves.

They finally come to a door, and outside of it stands a member of the
Rebman Royal Guard. The young woman nods to him, and the Guard steps
aside. Diomedes will realize that this is entirely symbolic and for
his benefit. The presence of the Royal Guard implies that the Seers
have the Queen's ear in this matter.

Inside there is a table with two chairs, and a mirror on one wall. The
young lady smiles at him again. "Wait here, they'll be with you soon,"
she promises.

"Wait" Diomedes says. "As you predicted, I would like to know your
name." He pauses a beat and then continues. "If that would be too
terrible a violation of privacy, then at least a use-name of some
sort."

She freezes in place in the door, and then peeks over her shoulder
with a quirky little smile. "Caught me. I did say you'd find out
later, didn't I?"

"Vaneta," she offers in a light cheerful tone. "I'll see you some
other time, Lord Diomedes." And then she is gone, like a breeze, back

out through the same door that they both had just entered.


Then she lets her self back out through the same door
that they both had just entered.

Diomedes waits a long time in silence. It gives time for his thoughts
to wander. Will he be killed? Will Theano come to a happy end? If the
Seers could see the future, did he have any choice but to do whatever
they wrote for him to do? Could he have gotten Pagono if he'd chose
to?

Diomedes does not sit down either. Not quite like a pent up cat, he
alternates walking around, remaining still, and pretending to study
details of the room.

Finally, he can't resist any longer, and walks in front of the mirror
and stares at his reflection.

It's a disquieting sensation. The Seers and Delwin look to the future
in different ways and have different perspectives.. but Dio's uncle
said they share the mirrors in common. It would make almost anyone
wonder who might be looking back out at them.

In fact, he can almost imagine his reflection speaking to him, changing its
appearance from his own to one of amusement, or anger, or
disappointment. The mask overlay of his imagination overwrites the
image contained in the mirror and it is not a pleasant mask. In the
eyes of his reflection, as it alternates moods and speaks wordlessly,
Diomedes' insecurities and fears of his future present themselves.

Diomedes stares and stares at his image and says nothing but his mind
continues on, running through a current of thought of how he reached
this fateful point.


Then just when it seems like no one would come, the door opens slowly.

Diomedes turns around from his pensive study of himself in the mirror
at the sound of the door.

An elderly woman, robed and cowled, enters slowly. A staff rests in
her hand and she uses it to guide her way into the room. Approaching
the table, she holds out a hand in his direction, as if expecting
Diomedes to rise and take it.. to pay his respects.

Diomedes meets her at the table and bows over the extended hand after
he takes it both of his own, his left hand cupped below her hand, and
his right hand lightly grasping her fingers.

Then she reaches carefully to where she might expect to find a chair,
and jerks it out for herself.

Then and only then, once she sits, does Diomedes does the same. He
keeps his hands off the table and doesn't quite stare at the woman,
instead focusing his gaze at a point on the table directly in front of
the woman.

"You've done a very difficult thing," she rasps. "Well done.
Especially when your anxiety follows you like a shadow."

Diomedes will feel a trace of her psychic presence. It is not
overpowering, like Fiona's, but that he can sense it all is
noteworthy. It's greater than some of his cousins.

She sits her self down, setting the staff on top of the table. "Let us
assume nothing, and pretend that we're blind. Tell me why you have
come?"

"To understand the present, I will need to invoke the past." Diomedes
replies. His eyes now move to the staff and he holds it on that
object for the time being as he speaks.

"More than a year ago, I was invited to visit Rebma. While here, I
engaged a course of study in water aspected sorcery, and also met and
fell for a Rebman lady of Quality. This you know."

"During that time, however, I had an encounter which slowly spread and
grew across my mind like a spreading ink stain in the ocean." Diomedes
continues. "The thoughts, doubts and fears engendered by that
encounter finally came to dominate my dreams and my waking mind. I
made a choice and fled Rebma, seeking to escape both the doubts and
what the encounter implied about my true role and presence here."

"Some short time ago, I encountered the Prince Random, and learned
from him his own story in Rebma, and the consequences of his visit."

She frowns at the mention of the name, but circumstances such as they
are, it's not likely to be intended to be personal towards Diomedes

Diomedes continues. "As we talked and discussed matters, I began to
realize that my precipitious departure from Rebma was a Wrong which I
committed upon the Lady, Theano. Furthermore, an encounter while in
Random's company dovetailed and reflected backwards onto the fateful
encounter that led me to flee Rebma in the first place. It was then
that I decided that it would be best if I returned to Rebma, to answer
for and to make restitution for the wrongs that I made."

"Why I am here, in this room, now, is part of that price and
restitution. I would not likely have been allowed to enter Rebma, had
I not made the bargain that I did to speak to you. And in addition."
Diomedes now smiles ruefully. "I admit to a small amount of personal
animosity toward the personage of the encounter."
"Does that answer your question satisfactorily, mother?" Diomedes asks.

"It's sounds to me as if you're confessing a sin," she mutters, and
gives an almost imperceptible shrug. "Though what weight the 'sin' of
accepting bad advice actually carries, I don't know, and I suppose
neither do you."

Diomedes parts his lips briefly as if to interrupt, but he does not actually do so. Instead, he continues to listen.

"So you get to have the girl and live happily ever after, if you only
tell the old women what really happened, eh?" Her voice is strained,
even though she appears completely relaxed. Most Rebman's speak very
sibilant tones, but hers is the creaky voice of an elderly land
dweller, even though she is not. "It may not be that simple."

Diomedes gives a full nod of reluctant but active agreement.

"But there's nothing to punish you for boy," her blind hand fist on
the table uncurls as if brushing a crumb away from a dinner plate. "No
one is going to kill you. The ripples that murder creates are too
great, spreading outward like a stain, especially for the likes of
you. It's so much easier just to make you leave, and have Rebma turn
her eyes forever away from you. Ignored and forgotten." She pauses.
"Do you understand? You're here because *you* want something, and you
think I have something to do with whether you get it or not."

Diomedes speaks a single, strangled word. "Yes".

The old woman chuckles mirthlessly, and concedes, "Well, you might be right."

"We are charged, among many others like the good Lieutenant you passed
on your way in here, with the security and well being of the Realm. We
won't allow a serpent to nestle in the warmth and fullness of the
bosom of Rebma." She wheezes out a laugh, a slight note of mockery in
her voice, but then it is gone. "But you're an intelligent and
talented young man, so it behooves us to see if you are actually a
serpent or just a man."

Diomedes squirms a bit at the comparison between himself and a serpent.

"I see a happy life here, for you, given the right choices. We're
prepared to tell Her Majesty that, but to that end, we do not want
your casual observances to Rebma. We want you to be her adopted son.
That requires a demonstration of loyalty beyond the mere disclosure of
this Aberration.. this Shadow which dares to walk amongst us and
meddle with the very sovereignty of this nation's destiny. Three
things we'll ask of you, and not a single *one* of them will break
you- but they will be telling things. They will be offerings to show
our trust in you is well placed. We require trust *now*, until this
anomaly has faded completely."

She clears her throat. "I know you have a questioning mind. You're a
magician of sorts. Before I tell you what we suggest to Her Majesty
that you should do for Rebma, ask your questions. Don't enter into
this, forgive me," she says with emphasis, "blindly."

"And if you want a small demonstration of our authority," she
breathes. "I can do that too. Something benevolent, I think."

"The demonstration of your authority can bide a few minutes until my questions are answered." Diomedes says, running a hand through his red hair. His dark mien has faded somewhat, although his eyes are still troubled, concern still there on his face for anyone to see, perhaps especially the mother. Perhaps especially her.

"The three things that you say that you will ask of me." Diomedes begins. "You say that not a single one of them would break me." he says. "But what will they do, together, to me? I know what I want and am prepared to make a sacrifice in order to do so." he responds. "However, if I cannot recognize myself after they are done, or as a derivative of myself, then I cannot do these things, even if I do not know yet what they might be."

"And" Diomedes continues. "One other thing for you to consider in this. Even if the final goal in this is to acclimate and bond me to Rebma, I would not do anything that would slip a poisoned blade into Amber. I do not believe I could be transmorgified so completely as to remove my past and my origins behind me. And to do such great harm to the City Above the Sea I would not be able to abide, and I do not think that the fury of my family could be stayed or avoided if I were to do so.

"More importantly, I would not be able to live with myself."

Diomedes pauses here, to allow the Mother to respond to these questions.

"I can not answer these potential moral quandries. This is all upon you to decide" she replies. "Perhaps I should have said, 'I don't *think* any one of them will break you', but I won't fault you for being cautious. I encourage it, in fact, because no one here is bluffing." She pauses. "You've always had the right to refuse." Her use of the past tense is oddly deliberate.

Diomedes' eyebrow quirks slightly at her use of language.

"First, I see you at your breakfast meeting telling of our business to Corradina Dante, Lady Miho, and any number of their hangers-on. Disabuse yourself of that notion. Do you think it a coincidence that Corwin obtained his objectives so easily? Sometimes if you give people what they want, they go away. That is exactly the desired effect we wanted. If you come to terms with Rebma, then none of this is their business. If you tell them anyway, then you invite trouble to follow you here- which, again, is exactly what we wish to avoid. So, you go to your breakfast as planned.. and you lie. Make something up, I don't care. You tell them nothing. I don't think that's very difficult."

Diomedes leans his head slightly, to show that he is listening intently.

"Second, after you've explained to us all things concerning this 'other party' who encouraged you to abandon your love, we want you to draw their picture. This meddler.. Though my eyes will never look upon it, we have others- like Vaneta, who will see it for us. I'm to understand you're a fair artist, no?" The Mother coughs. "See? Still nothing challenging to a man of your ability.."

Diomedes keeps his expression neutral.

"Third, there is already one would-be predator in our midst, and this one is not invisible to the inner eye but right in our faces. One who fancies himself as newly righteous. These trumps? We know of them. We want you to give us your trump of Captain Drake. He'll never know from us how we obtained it, nor will we use it to any end but self-protection. But if you do not already know this, the Captain will be staying in Rebma for a while. If we are to suffer a nasty little barking dog in our midst, we should like to have a leash. Consider it a precaution on our part, not a threat."

She gestures with one hand, from with in the folds of her cowled robe. "Nothing difficult by my reckoning, and nothing that shifts the balance of power in Amber. Of course, if this is too great a cost for truly happy life in a place I would think would be well suited to you.. by all means, tell everyone anything you like."

"And then leave, and never come back..."

"Diomedes holds up a hand at this point, his index finger rising above the rest of his hand.

"Three tasks. Heracles was given a dozen, and did not find happiness in the end." he muses aloud, a stream of bubbles exhaled from his mouth making a stream toward the ceiling of the room.

"Before I give answer to your proposal, Mother." Diomedes says calmly. "I think that I would like to see this promised benevolent demonstration of your power. A practical display often wonderfully focuses the mind, or at least my mind."



"Of course," she replies softly from beneath her cowl.

"Tonight, when you're making love to your Lady of Quality," the old woman says matter-of-factly, "and you spill yourself inside of her and she shudders in her throes of passion, she'll burst into great sobbing tears."

Diomedes blinks slightly in surprise but does not interrupt.

"You'll pause then, your own passion dead almost too soon after it culminated. You apologize. Tell her that you're 'sorry'. Everything is awkward and laced with guilt, shame, and fear." She speaks like a doctor, plainly, clinically.

"But," says the old hag, raising her own index finger, "you'll have misinterpreted the situation. Those would have been tears of joy and love, and your clumsy apologies only communicate that you have no idea what's in her heart. You're oblivious to her."

Diomedes half closes his eyes, as if warding off pain. He continues to listen with lidded eyes.

"Now this is between you and me.. The woman already adores you, but her love will bloom a thousandfold if you can only keep from thinking about how everything revolves around you, and what *you've* done. Just hold her, and tell her that you understand. That you feel the same love that moves you almost to tears too. After all, it won't be a lie *now*, will it? And it won't be the last time that she takes you before your breakfast meeting takes you away altogether."

"What you actually do in the bedroom is of no interest to me. It's galling to be an unwilling voyeur, but that's my curse. But ask yourself, if you can see your own future in what I've told you.. and don't you feel better knowing for that every choice removed is another choice obtained?"

"There's your freebie young man. Your helping hand to a better life. As I said, you've already done a hard thing, and I'll pay you that respect.. But you have no more time to think about it. Shall I send for paper and pencils so that you might draw the face of this Interloper, or shall I start to erase whatever future you might have in Rebma?"
"I have no objection to the first and second tasks." Diomedes replies. "I can still my tongue if it is needed, and drawing the face of the Interloper, now that I have revealed him, does not trouble me."

He pauses and then continues. "With the third task, however, there is...difficulty. While I did once own a trump deck that did contain a trump of Captain Drake, I suffered attacks and dangers on my travels to Rebma."

"While it is possible for me to retrieve my lost sword, my Trumps, however, are irretrievably lost. Given time, I would be able to obtain, and give you another trump of the Captain, but I cannot do so now."

Diomedes notes the slightest of motions from the Seer. Just a subtle start, and if she's aware of it, she probably regrets showing it. It wouldn't be unreasonable for him to realize that she didn't know that he'd lost his trumps.

Diomedes blinks slightly but does not otherwise react as he continues speaking.

"If my binding word to deliver such a Trump to you once I have one in my hands is not sufficient." Diomedes continues. "then if another task cannot be substituted, then I cannot comply with your wishes and you will have to begin." Diomedes opens his eyes. "erasing any future I might have here."

"That won't be necessary," she breathes, and her tone is kind at the last. "I *believe* you. If we couldn't adapt to changing situations none of us would survive. No, we'll grant you some time to fulfill the third requirement on your word alone. But soon. Within a month if you possibly can, but the sooner the better."

Diomedes nods formally, as if it alone were a binding action on his part.

She smiles and it makes the lines and wrinkles of the lower part of her face become more pronounced. "You've made some wise and responsible choices, and I think you won't regret them. We're not meddlers in the Everyday. You're going to have good life."

The Seer starts to rise to her feet, reaching for her walking stick. "I think children are on the horizon, but it's too far ahead to be reliable. Theano a good catch for you, the two of you look to be happy-"

Diomedes is about to open his mouth in response...

She shudders then, violently, and steadies herself against the table. She raises a palm quickly. "Not you," she says sharply. "Don't worry. That was just Amber," the Mother explains. "A backwash of half-explored ideas, most of which are already fading. Just have a care not to track Amber's woes down here."

Diomedes is halfway out of his seat but remains in his awkward position for the moment.

She straightens herself up again. "I have other things to attend to, if that wasn't suddenly obvious, but I will send Vaneta to bring you something to draw with, and see you safely back. We'll be in touch."

Diomedes rises, and bows. "Yes, Mother."

The Mother must have some sense of space, because she heads unerringly for the door, and though blind, her fingers find the handle quickly. She calls out to someone that she's ready, and then turns her cowl back towards Diomedes. "Those things that should remain private, shall remain private. Hopefully this wasn't as bad as you might have thought."

That is her farewell, because she leaves then, and the door is closed behind her but not locked.

"No. It wasn't as bad as I might have thought." Diomedes says to the empty room.

He remains standing a minute and when nothing happens in that time period, he sits back down.

A few minutes later the cheerful young Vaneta pokes her head in the door to say hello and announce herself, and then lets herself in with a tray.

Diomedes gives a nod for her to enter and then politely rises from the chair when she does so.

On it is a bottle of wine and a glass, and several sheets of welshin and charcoal writing sticks. "Now," she says lightly, "I'm to make sure that you have anything you need to draw.. what it is that you're to draw. If you're hungry and haven't had any dinner yet, we'll bring you whatever you like. *They* don't always have time to look for the little things, so that's why I'm here. One of the younger girls will be outside, and she'll run and get me if you need me for anything."

She crooks an eyebrow, "Is there anything I can get for you to start?"

"The welshin and sticks and wine will do for a start." Diomedes assures Vaneta with a smile, however shaky as he sits back down. "Thank you." he adds. "If it would be possible that something light to eat be brought in around fifteen minutes, I would be grateful, Vaneta. I will leave your choice as a surprise."

"Alright," she agrees with a smile.

The sketch of the mysterious man behind the purple mask goes well. The
wine is crisp, but not too tart, and the bare room might seem more
hospitable when one considers the door is not locked, he is no
prisoner, and supper is being brought to him while Theano waits
patiently elsewhere. Even the large mirror alongside the wall facing
the table seems less sinister. If any Seer does lurk behind its
silvery depths, they are satisfied with him.

Every so often, Diomedes does glance at that mirror, but, mostly he concentrates fully on the task at hand. The otherwise bare room and lack of diversions, as well as his thought processes, focuses his mind wonderfully.

There is nothing unusual about the sketch of the lost uncle, though
his eyes might look accusing if Diomedes is not careful. But then, the
two of them have betrayed each other, right?

Vaneta returns with a plate with a fillet on a bed of rice and
sea-grass. Lightly seasoned. She cocks her head and looks unabashedly
at his preliminary work, her expression neutral. Since she is the one
who is going to accept it when finished, she takes it upon herself to
have a look.

Diomedes looks up from his preliminary sketch at Vaneta's approach. He doesn't acknowledge the food immediately. Instead, he studies her reaction to the current level of work.

"Just have them send for me when you're done," she says a moment
later. She gives Diomedes a familiar and comforting pat on the
shoulder as she walks by. It could be mistaken as flirtation, but she
lets herself out without a backward look.


"All right." Diomedes says as she walks away "I will do that."

He returns to his task, filling in lines and providing more details. He strips his memory bare of every inch that he can remember of the Mysterious Stranger in all of his incarnationsin the mirror in Rebma, the dream image that haunted him and helped spur his departure and flight. The more recent images, from his encounter with him at the Tower that still holds his imprisoned father.

The sketch a line or two from completion, Diomedes stops and regards his work. A strange urge comes over him for a brief moment, to tear this to pieces, to abandon this, to walk away from everyone and everything. Giving this sketch would mean that there was no going back.

Diomedes glances at that mirror and shakes his head slightly. "I am not so feckless after all." He spends the next two minutes completing the sketch.

Then, and only then, does he eat the food that has been sitting there all this time, and takes some wine to wash it down. With his repast complete, Diomedes looks at the sketch one last time, this time with a critical, artist's eye.

It will do.

If only he knew how to connect it to the essence of the man depicted. The quality is that good, but where is the magic?

Diomedes considers this question for a few moments. A secret that his father certainly knows, and Aunt Fiona, and Uncle Bleys. Perhaps others. Others now know it can be done. But, perhaps, he will now never know, unless he comes to it himself.

With such thoughts in his mind, Diomedes heads to the door and tells one of the girls there that he is ready to deliver the sketch to Vaneta, and that he is finished with his plate in the bargain. Once Vaneta comes back, he solemnly proffers to her, scrutintizing her reaction as he hands it over.

Vaneta accepts it without a word, and turns it around slowly to study it. Cocking her head a fraction she doesn't quite frown, but her expression is definitely guarded. There's no sense of recognition in her eyes. "Handsome is our troublemaker," she says at last, and then rolls up the odd welshin paper. "You're a good artist. The Seers will be pleased."

"If you or someone you designate could now lead me back to the vicinity of the Palace." Diomedes says. "I would be grateful."

"Certainly," she murmurs. "You have other appointments to keep." She motions for Diomedes to follow, guiding him to the same side exit he originally arrived at. "You won't need the same precautions when leaving," Vaneta explains. "It's all clear now." She quickly gives him a run down on how to arrive back to streets that will be familiar with, near the Palace.

Diomedes listens intently and carefully as Vaneta outlines the directions, giving slight nods of the head when she names streets that are familiar.

"Thank you." Diomedes says to her. "Until we meet again, if ever."

"Things are changing all the time m'lord," she says kindly.

Diomedes remains quiet with his thoughts as he is makes his solitary way to the vicinity of the Palace. Once there, he regards the edifice through the darkness of the sea.

There is one piece of business undone before he can join Theano.

He turns, and walks in the direction of Faiella Bionin, in search of his sword.

The streets are emptying out as night comes, and people return to their homes, and the wealthy glide down the streets in ornate lightweight sleds that float waist high above the street and are pulled along by sea beasts, like great sized turtles.

The Guards stationed at the great Arch watch him curiously, but do not challenge his departure. It's a silently lonely walk in the gloom of the dark sea, lit only by the great torches that burn magically either side of the Queen's Stairs.

There is no sign of it, but the Son of Brand can feel it. At last, and one third of the way up the Stairs he sees it. Pagono is driven right through the marble of the stairs themselves... like a sign.

Or a warning.

It appears undamaged, even though it cleaves solid rock- perhaps the only defacement that Faiella-Bionin has ever known.

Diomedes strides up Faiella Bionin. "Right where I thought you would be." he murmurs as he surmounts step after step, striding toward his blade. The fact that it is driven into the marble is somewhat disconcerting, but he does not slow down until he reaches its location, securely thrust into the strange stone that makes up the extraordinary staircase.

Reaching two steps short of where it is, Diomedes sinks to his knees. Through the murky gloom, he regards his blade. He speaks extemporaneously.

"I won you in battle, and have kept you by my side There are deeds to be done, danger draws nigh Return to my hand, as must needs be done So that the day, the year, the world can be won."

Diomedes rises and grasps the hilt with his right hand, and, infusing himself with as much confidence and force of will as he can muster, seeks to draw and regain the heart of the Glacier.

It doesn't budge.

Trying again, Diomedes strains, and before concern or apprehension can set in good and strong, he can feel it start to grind and slide out...

Then the frozen sword comes free in his hand, Diomedes' hand involuntarily jerking back a fraction when Pagono abruptly comes loose.

Looking down, there is no sign of any damage to Faiella-Bonin.. No indentation at all.

"Only the worthy may wield you." Diomedes says seriously. "I suppose I am still worthy."

Bearing the blade, he makes his way down the steps.

The walk back to the Palace is uneventful and quiet. It will be two or three hours before midnight before he finds himself outside the guest quarters that Theano has been loaned by the Queen.

"Lady Shark." he calls as he raps on the door, expecting her to answer. "Your Tom Cat has returned, as he has Promised." He waits patiently for her to answer, and when she opens it, she finds Diomedes holding Pagono across the palms of his hands. Although his eyes are bright with anticipation, he gives a bow of the head.

She smirks, and raises a hand to brush her fingers along the flat of Pagono. With a mischievous look she lifts her hands and rubs her fingertips against her thumb, probably from the cold, but it's the same gesture one makes when checking for dust and then finding it.

"Thanks," she murmurs with a hint of amusement, "but I'd rather have you." She turns and enters, looking backward once with bedroom eyes to beckon him to follow.

Its a singular sign of his seriousness to her. In presenting his blade to her, he is presenting himself up to her once more. Once the gesture is complete, he sheaths the sword and follows her inside.

Diomedes relaxes and smiles, the gesture complete and now moved on.

Finding a comfortable place on the sofa Theano watches him. She glances at the seat next to her, inviting him to join her there. "You seem alright. I've a lot of questions, like why you left me in the first place, but I have to ask- why are *they* so curious about you?"

Diomedes joins her on the couch and moves into the old intimacy of close body language, significant looks, comfortable with each other. It has been a year, but the time before was intense, and they had fit so well together...

"I can't speak too much about what transpired between they and I." Diomedes begins, looking at her seriously. "However, there are some things I will say. Part of the reason why They are so interested in me deals with the first and major question that you have for me, and for me to answer-why I left in the first place."

"My departure was not something anticipated or expected. Our relationship not only was noticed by them, but I suspect that my sudden actions discomforted them. The tangled way that I finally came back,too, only heightened their curiosity." Diomedes admits.

"Now, though, I think its time to answer the question that has been hanging between us." Diomedes looks at her with all seriousness. "Why I left, and by extension, why I came back."

Theano sits up attentive and alert, accepting that he may not wish to speak of what has passed between him and the Seers, but curious about this- the heart of the matter.
"The night that we met, at the ball, I had a fateful encounter between dances." Diomedes says earnestly. "Not with a person there in the classical sense, but someone in a Mirror. Someone that I vaguely have seen before. A masked stranger from behind the Mirror."

"That's not just poetic symbolism?" she asks. "He was mirrorwrighting?"

Diomedes nods. "I'd seen him before, years ago, in a mirror, although he didn't overly converse with me That I had thought was a dream. Clearly, it wasn't."

"His name is not important, though, since I didn't know it." Diomedes continues. "but this man, who knew me, spoke to me earnestly in warning that I was being manipulated. That forces in Rebma were pushing me in certain directions, and that if I was not careful, I would become merely their pawn, to the detriment of all. He told me of *them*."

Diomedes continues to hold her gaze. "I took his words and thanked him for it, and slowly internalized them. Without even thinking about them at the time." he continues. "The ball progressed, and we met. And you and Aunt Llewella persuaded me to stay longer in Rebma. And our relationship blossomed and grew."

He swallows. "I asked for your hand and you and your Line accepted. We were all so happy. And then..." Diomedes closes his eyes for a moment, unable to speak. "And then the nightmares began."

Theano remains silent.

"I kept them from you as much as I could. I learned to be relatively quiet when I woke again and again. I don't think...I don't blame the masked Stranger. Unicorn and Tide know that I tried to see if I had been ensorcelled. You will remember that I asked Llewella for advice on water borne enchantments, precisely to see if the Masked Stranger had done something to me that only now was taking shape. But I found nothing."

"I had nightmares, night after night, of what would happen if I continued to swim the current we were swimming together." Diomedes explains. His expression is one of guilt and pain. "I was afraid to tell you of them, and to inflict that suffering on you, the knowledge of my mental torture. It was all within myself, the words of the Stranger coming to haunt me. Guilt that my happiness was selfish, that by being happy with you, I was going to cause calamity for everything I held dear. I even had dreams that, by marrying you..." Diomedes winces. "I would in the end cause you..." Diomedes cannot finish the sentence and pauses a moment before beginning again. "I finally could not bear the nightmares any longer."

Theano lowers her eyes sadly.

"And so." Diomedes says, one last painful look in his eyes. "to placate the demons of my mind, and willing to sacrifice my happiness to avoid the dark futures imagined in my dreams, I cast myself away from Rebma, and more importantly, the woman I loved...and still love."

She sighs, unhappy but not necessarily angry. "You took this burden all on yourself, Diomedes, and you never talked about, so I couldn't ever help you."

Diomedes gives a small nod of the head in agreement. Theano looks up and tilts her head a little. "You must have believed him, at least somewhat? That you were being manipulated?

"Yes. I believed I was being manipulated. I foolishly didn't see the other side of the equation, that his contacting me was doing the exact same thing. But perhaps now I should tell you what caused me to come back." Diomedes offers.

Theano reaches out to lay her hand on top of his. Her expression is unreadable.

"Random's story, as it is intertwined with Drake's, is one you might know..." Diomedes begins, looking at Theano with some renewed strength of character. "In recent adventures in Shadow, he contacted me, asking for my help with an affliction, a curse."

"Its a matter between him and the Queen, but at the time. the circumstances made me wonder if you might not have been involved, given your skills." Diomedes gives a slight smile. "As I spent time with Random and we discussed matters and possible remedies, I began to realize that my departure from Rebma was, in the end, ill. It had plagued my thoughts ever since I did it." Diomedes admits. "but I didn't have an impetus, until Random, to try and rectify my mistake. I saw in Random something of my departure that I didn't like. It shamed me, Theano. It started me on the path to wanting to actively come back to Rebma, to come back to you. To make amends. To seek forgiveness."

She sighs, unhappy but not necessarily angry. "You took this burden all on yourself, Diomedes, and you never talked about, so I couldn't ever help you."

Diomedes gives a small nod of the head in agreement.

Theano looks up and tilts her head a little. "You must have believed him, at least somewhat? That you were being manipulated?

"Yes. I believed I was being manipulated. I foolishly didn't see the other side of the equation, that his contacting me was doing the exact same thing. But perhaps now I should tell you what caused me to come back." Diomedes offers.

Theano reaches out to lay her hand on top of his. Her expression is unreadable.

"Random's story, as it is intertwined with Drake's, is one you might know..." Diomedes begins, looking at Theano with some renewed strength of character. "In recent adventures in Shadow, he contacted me, asking for my help with an affliction, a curse."

"Its a matter between him and the Queen, but at the time. the circumstances made me wonder if you might not have been involved, given your skills." Diomedes gives a slight smile. "As I spent time with Random and we discussed matters and possible remedies, I began to realize that my departure from Rebma was, in the end, ill. It had plagued my thoughts ever since I did it." Diomedes admits. "but I didn't have an impetus, until Random, to try and rectify my mistake. I saw in Random something of my departure that I didn't like. It shamed me, Theano. It started me on the path to wanting to actively come back to Rebma, to come back to you. To make amends. To seek forgiveness."

She sighs softly. "Diomedes," she starts to say, but then lets him continue.

"Random and I made an agreement that we would deal with a situation of mine own, first the imprisonment of my father, and then we would together go back to Rebma, for the affliction was, I judged, beyond my ability to cure and I wanted to make amends to you. In the midst of the attempt to free my father." he looks levelly at her. "Random and I met someone at the place of my father's imprisonment."

"The Stranger, in the flesh."

Theano slowly pulls her hand back. Lowering her face, she turns away from him on the couch. She wraps her own arms around herself in a tight embrace.

"You should go," she says quietly.

Diomedes looks thunderstruck by her reaction. A wave of thoughts crashes through his brain like a tidal current forcing its way through a maze of rocks, wearing away at the loose material there, coursing it together in a sudden whirlpool of confusion.

It takes several moments for Diomedes to compose himself and he still winces, keeping his voice steady a matter of iron will. It still holds a tone of confusion and bafflement.

"But why? What have I said or done?" Diomedes asks. He closes his eyes and speaks several more words before going silent. "How have I let you down?"

"That's just it," she whispers. "You never have."

She turns to look him over her shoulder, her eyes filled with pain.
"Have you ever really felt guilty for something you've done and gotten
away with, on purpose?" Theano turns away again. "After a while, you
hate yourself, until that becomes too much to bear, and then you start
to hate the source of that guilt."

"I don't want to ever feel that way about you," she says softly.
Theano shifts a little, drawing her knees close to her chest as she
curls up looking away from him. "I just never planned on you actually
feeling so intense about.. us. That you would do all of this for me.
That it would really be love."

"That Stranger," Theano says, "he might have taken advantage of you..
But Tomkat, we *all* are.."

It takes somewhere between three and four seconds for Diomedes to process this. He stares at Theano's curled away form, his green eyes regarding her thoughtfully, intently, his mind racing like rapids.

His hand reaches for her wrists, to unwrap her out of the position she is in, curled away from him in a ball. With firm but not overly harsh strength, he pulls her out of the position and around so that she can't help but look at him. If she tries to lower her head, his free hand insistently lifts her head, by a gentle tug of her hair, so that unless she shuts her eyes, she must look into his own.

"You had expected just a simple political marriage between us, a typical sort of matchmaking between kingdoms." Diomedes says as he looks at her intently and intensely. "Hadn't you?"

"Yes."

She takes that second to try to compose herself. "I.. I haven't changed my mind.. I- I do love you. But you and I, we're *not* going to make it if you're going to put me so high that.."

Diomedes furrows her eyebrows, an invitation for her to go on.

Theano searches his eyes. "I'm not sure *I* could leave my mother or father in prison just to marry you. And does that make me a terrible person? And I want you to make your home here. With me. I want you to give 'them' whatever they want so that they'll leave us alone to be happy... but don't you see? I want you to do that because you want to, because you think it's right thing to do.. Not for me.."

She bites her own lip. "You said he *used* you. You never said he lied!"

Tears start to fall from Theano's eyes. "I can't bear all that responsibility alone.."

"No, No, No..." Diomedes says softly. "I've not made what I've done and why clear." he says, a touch of self reproach which is gone as quickly as a snow flurry in May.

"My return to Rebma is not *that* selfless, and I am not putting you on an unattainable pedestal." The hand that had held her in place by a tug of the hair releases its grip. He has her attention now, and he no longer needs that. Instead, the hand slides down the back of her neck, and down her back, drawing her closer to him. He does not release his grip on her wrists, but the tension and feel changes subtly, to a more subtle form of strength and dominance.

Theano allows him to do this, but her body language is still tense.
Diomedes can feel it through his touch.

"And while I did halt my attempt to free my father." Diomedes continues. "That is because I don't have enough allies, or help, in order to free him. Random, the Stranger and I were not enough, or they would have been enough, if I had been willing to die in the process, perhaps. I was not." Diomedes says gravely. "not willing to pay that cost."

She relaxes a little at this admission, letting herself be drawn
closer while searching his face with her bright wet eyes.

"Am I such a terrible person, Theano, to want to carve myself out some happiness before gathering the resources I need to do it properly? And while." he looks into her eyes. "there is duty and honor in returning to you, there is desire, and love, too, and the chance to regain the happiness of you and I that I dammed like a river, and now seek to flow again."

Theano draws up close to him, and yanks her wrists free of his grip.
She reaches up and curls her fingers into the folds of his jacket in
order to pull him close. Then she kisses him, tenderly and
unhurriedly.

Diomedes returns the kiss, firm and gentle.

But when she's done, she pushes herself a little away from him, but
not out of his reach. "No, not a terrible person at all," she says
quietly, composing herself. "Just strong, that's all, like I need you
to be." Then she reaches out to take his hands in hers, knotting her
fingers with his.

Diomedes regards her, watching her after she freed herself from his manhandling.

"We have tonight at least, but what comes for you tomorrow?"

"That will partially depend on what my cousins are planning." Diomedes
begins. "I do need to know, with them here with my Uncle, what *they*
are going to do. Corwin can't and won't remain here forever. Things
are in tumult in Amber and elsewhere. And there is still the matter
of finding the strength and allies to free my father. Speaking with
Llewella on matters, too." Diomedes muses.

"My time in Rebma is likely to be limited." Diomedes adds, a fey tone
entering his voice at that admission. He brightens after a moment's
pause. "For now, my love. Her Majesty may even prefer that I be
abroad for a time, given all that is occurring, even if I am recently
returned."


"I think you're right. She has your complicity, now she's going to be
questioning your loyalty.. after all 'they' serve at her pleasure, or
at least are supposed to, but who can be certain with the Seers? With
all that your return has revealed to the Queen, she might be wondering
what strings you might be placing on Rebma as well as the reverse."

Theano sits up her knees then and brushes a stray lock away from his
face... "But if I'm only able to have your company for one night, then
I am going not going to squander it," says tells him and silences him
with another kiss. "Tomorrow will be hard enough."

"I entirely agree that the time for words have ended." Diomedes agrees, once he has
a space to speak after the kiss. "Entirely Agree."

And so the scene slowly faded to black. And when the time came, as the Mother predicted,
Diomedes did not apologize, gawkily, guiltily as he might have. Or would he have? The time
for such things were passed, and Diomedes felt no compunction in using the knowledge that
Horath had provided.

What the Mother said was true because he, Diomedes, would make it true. The night, and his time with Theano, was far too short for recriminations and shame. Far too short.