There appears to be a window in the wall of the cavern, and beyond it patterns of stars move and shift as constellations form and reform.  An entity stands among the stars and watches Luke.

And there is a small version of Banglen-Yp.

There comes a long moment of silence.  Information passes with stunning rapidity between Luke and Berd, and from Berd to Cyan along their particularly 'private' channel.  It is, after all, almost as if Cyan and Berd are the same being in a way.  The private channel, unbeknownst to Cyan for the longest time, is nothing but Berd's 'command level protocols', as he once described them.  Information is transmitted in a way that cannot be blocked, for it is as if the information spontaneously arrives in her mind, fully formed.

Their conversations have always transpired at dizzying speeds, and this is the one function of the 'strings' Berd continues to use...with Cyan's agreement.

She bows.  Low.  "DeMontford," Cyan quietly states.  "Keep your men back.  And watch.  There should be witnesses."  And then straightens.

"I am Cyan, of No Place in Particular.  And I greet you."  Her hand rises to indicate.  "With me are James of Amber.  Lord Harbonah of the Seraphim.  Left and Staosha of the danioti.  Barkiel of the herenethi.  Shalgiel of the sencathi.  Simon DeMontford of King Random's Highway, and his men."  Berd opens his eyes.  "And this is Berd."

"We come to speak in hope of peace."

Banglen-Yp turns around and waves, then says, •• He is here too •• and she gestures towards a figure lurking in the shadows to one side of the cavern.  Dworkin!

•• We don't like him •• We have heard bad things about him ••

The stained-glass Archon shifts, becoming a stained-glass unicorn, which stands in front of Dworkin and laughs at him.

•• This represents all of us in this other space • which is our home •• and a brilliant smile.  •• Luke has already spoken to them • and they are prepared to listen •• If you speak to them • then we will try to clear up any misunderstandings and confusion between the two parties ••
This message had punctuation tweaked by the GM at 19:14, Fri 18 Mar 2016.

Cyan nods to the ancient Dworkin, cautioned by Berd.  "Elder," she quietly greets him before turning toward the two parts of the same vast being.  With fascination she observes the alterations in Banglen-Yp, shaking her head to clear it of the unearthly sight.

"I would welcome discussion," she continues.  "We have come because we understand you might have a solution to our issue, a solution that might benefit you as well.  If Luke has given you the details, I shall merely sum up.  This may be a touch simplistic, but I am certain my associates can correct me on the particulars."

With a wave of her hand, she indicates the tiny, orbiting rings of the Archons.  "The Archons are a race of immense power and longevity.  They continue to spawn through the ages, and look toward a time where there will be no place left for them in the Myriad Worlds.  Therefore, to avoid strife within their race they have set forth to conquer the Myriad Worlds of this place so that they will have all of the space necessary."

The bard's lips thin.  "Without that space, they will fall upon one another and war for territory.  A war stretching into eternity."

Another gesture to indicate the terrible, shining unicorn.  "Banglen-Yp has offered a solution: that they join you in your own existence.  That they become something new, something not-you inhabiting that space.  With this, they will have the freedom to grow, to find their own path to peace without requiring the war against other inhabitants."

A bow to both parties follow, and Cyan straightens.  "Have I touched upon the particulars, Lord Harbonah?  Left?  Others?"

Berd shifts uneasily, and keeps his burning eyes upon Dworkin.  His head bobs once, as if in greeting.

There is a general roar of agreement from the Archons, their voices sounding like the clash of swords on some battlefield.  Harbonah grows in size and brightness, until he is the size of a wagon wheel and burns like a sun.

+ WE REQUIRE SPACE TO LIVE.  WE HAVE NO MEANS, OTHER THAN WAR, TO CONTROL OUR POPULATION.  WE CAME TO THIS REALM FROM ANOTHER, WHERE WE WERE IMPRISONED.  WHEN WE ESCAPED WE SOUGHT TO CONQUER... TO ENSURE THAT WE WOULD NEVER AGAIN BE CONFINED.  BUT THIS REALM IS NOT ALTOGETHER SUITABLE FOR US.  IT IS OCCUPIED BY CREATURES WHO ARE LEARNING TO DESTROY US, AND THERE ARE PLACES WHERE WE DARE NOT GO, BECAUSE THE ENVIRONMENT ITSELF WILL KILL US. +

And all through the Archon's speech, Banglen-Yp speaks rapidly, in what sounds like a chorus of a hundred voices, each of them speaking independently.

+ WE HAVE FOUGHT AGAINST, AND ALONGSIDE ONE OF YOUR PEOPLE, AND WE DO NOT WISH A WAR AGAINST YOUR KIND, FOR WE HAVE SEEN THAT YOU ARE STRONG.  WE WISH ONLY A PEACEFUL CO-EXISTENCE.  IF YOU WILL GRANT US PERMISSION TO ENTER YOUR REALM, WE WILL LIVE AS NEIGHBOURS AND ALLIES. +

The stars beyond the portal start to move, flickering and pulsing as the entity who stands before them absorbs the information and sends it out to them.  New constellations dance, fleetingly, across the sky.

And through it all, Dworkin is silent, though he turns away from the glass unicorn, which prances before him and mocks him quietly.

Banglen-Yp. the humanoid one, turns to Cyan and smiles, •• I think it is going well • so far •• We have not yet stepped through the portal to eat this world • which means that the majority of our conciousness finds the proposition interesting ••

Elated by how well things appear to be proceeding, Cyan nonetheless pauses at Banglen-yp's approbation.  'Eat' this world?  It would be a commonplace thing for this being?

Has it opened portals to other worlds before?  Other universes?  Made them part of its 'one'?

However, Harbonah makes a fine case, and his sincerity seems to be without reproach.  He makes no attempt to speak to altruism or changes of heart; no, instead he speaks of their difficulties with continuing their work, difficulties in no small part linked to the group of which Cyan has been a part.  This is, at the end, a matter of pride for her.

"With your help," Cyan replies, "we have a chance to end this.  To make of this something better - a better end not simply for one side of the war, but for both."  Her smile is tremulous - this is not over yet, and there are questions about the entity that now rise within her - but nonetheless, hope continues to grow.  "A war of survival that has the potential to leave both sides alive, with the hope of a better tomorrow."

She heaves out a heavy breath.  "This...this is a rare thing," Cyan admits, her eyes ruby-dark.  Turning, the bard faces the portal.  "Do you have thoughts regarding what you have heard?" she queries the entity.

The entity transforms... one moment it is a more or less humanoid shape, though the details and the size of it are unusual.  The next, it is a whirling ring of dust, rocks and flame.

•• Yes • this is all interesting •• The prospect of other beings • beings that exist separate from ourselves • but in the same realm •• This is something we find intriguing •• To speak to another without knowing automatically how it will respond •• We would welcome this ••

The Archon-like shape laughs, and the dust transforms into a circular stream of water.  Then, in the blink of an eye, the rock, flame and water are each rotating about a separate axis.

•• This is enjoyable ••

It's fascinating and terrifying simultaneously observing the entity, and its thousand changing forms.  Cyan finds herself half-hypnotized by the constant shifts.  Even at his greatest, Devlin could not have reproduced this constant metamorphosis.

It is everything, in that place.

"It..."  She falters, then recovers.  "It might be difficult from time to time.  Things will not always proceed as planned.  That could be frustrating.  But that is a factor of dealing with beings who are not part of oneself.  It creates random elements, and one does not always achieve the desired result."

Her palms rise in a helpless shrug, Berd caroling irritably on her shoulder.  "It is a factor of growth."

Her topaz eyes study the doorway for a long moment.  "How...will it be possible to maintain some kind of bridge between our two...our two...realities?  If so, will there be a danger in that?"

Banglen-Yp, the first one, acting as an interpreter, raises a hand and smiles at Cyan.  •• We will be the bridge •• If we are near to the portal then we can talk with the others • and they with us •• With some of our people on both sides we can hold it open • or open it again after it has closed ••

She crouches to pick up a fist-sized stone, and shows it to Cyan.  •• Watch ••

And then she stretches out her arm... extending it through the portal and into the realm beyond, where she drops it on the ground,  There is a flurry of activity in the other space, and there are suddenly several creatures clustered around the stone, no two of them alike.

•• Luke could not have done that •• The barrier has been changed since Dworkin's visit • to block uninvited visitors ••

•• That stone is the first new matter to enter our world in living memory • which is a very long time for us ••

Interesting.  Cyan notes the change in Banglen-Yp's speech almost immediately - it's part and parcel of her training, after all.  Now, the 'woman' speaks of 'our people'.  Separation creating a sense of independence and self, perhaps?  Meeting 'herself' again and seeing the differences between 'her' and 'them', now?

Whichever, it's a fascinating thing to observe.

"I see."  The various 'beings' clustered about the stone - all part of the overall universe, itself - must be fascinated by this piece of material that is not them.  "So the gate itself will be fully protected - only you and your people will be capable of letting things through?  And without you, nothing can pass?"

The bard chews on her lip for a moment before nodding, her sapphire eyes relieved.  "Good."  She's not foolish enough to believe that means it is impossible; but 'difficult' will do, most certainly.  "That holds a great deal of promise."

She waves to the Archons.  "Is there any danger to the Archons entering your universe?  To you or them?"

A pause, and Banglen-Yp smiles as the figures beyond the gate pass the stone from one to another.  Running their hands over the surface, feeling the weight of it, smelling and even licking it.  One of them glances in Cyan's direction, and becomes, in a moment, an exact duplicate of the bard.  Another becomes a copy of Berd, and perches on the shoulder of the first, eyes burning like revolving stars.

•• They like the two of you •• They say that you are like them • separate things that are the same thing •• Luke too • but he is not so tightly tied as you two ••

•• The Archons would be welcome here as new minds •• New experiences • just as the pebble is •• They would not be in danger from the gestalt • nor could they harm it in any way •• Even if they kill a part of it • the rest will retain its experiences • and its energy and matter will return to the gestalt •• While they could have destroyed this universe • in that place the universe is alive and aware of their actions •• It can act to protect itself • and the Archons • from the consequences of those actions ••

•• And no • nothing can pass without permission from one who is part of the gate •• My people • as what you might call the living soul of their universe • are naturally part of its gate ••

Berd sits up at Banglen-Yp's pronouncement, and peers at his duplicate with a jaundiced eye.  With a snort, he curls up again, but his eyes remain open and gleaming.  Cyan, for her part, twitches slightly at the comparison, but holds her irritation inside.  It's clear that the creatures do not fully understand herself or Berd, or that she misunderstands them: for all that the bard has sprung from Berd's power, she is her own being.  Even Berd's now-unused 'Command Level Protocols' are a method of control rather than a resumption of oneness.  It is possible the analogy was only meant in a shallow manner; either way, Cyan resolves not to take offense.

But...  The bard grimaces.  She appears so much older now.

Enough of that.  "It sounds as a perfect situation, then.  The Archons can flourish as they wish, and your gestalt receives something new, something random, something of interest to observe.  Observation will not bind them to your will, and allow them to continue to be random."  She rubs her hands together.  "And you have protected the portal.  You are, in essence, the portal."

Turning, she glances at James, and for an instant her amber eyes gleam with unshed tears.  "It seems...we have reached a turning point.  Is there aught I might have missed?"

•• Random • yes •• and Banglen-Yp laughs •• I had to explain that to them •• It is a new idea for them • this idea of a thing which is not fully controlled ••

James chuckles at Cyan's grimace, "You know what they say about imitation being the sincerest form of flattery."

"If anything has been missed, I think it might need to be left up to them to work it out now.  I expect that there'll be some rough spots - Harbonah doesn't speak for all of the Archons, for instance.  Or even a majority for that matter.  Both sides seem willing to try this, at least."

"Flattery?"  Cyan turns and studies herself again.  "Is that a perfect...I look like that?"  She had noticed the hair, but in a more impersonal way.  Now looking at 'herself' with a more critical eye, with James' words ringing in her ears, she blinks several times.

Another blink of emerald eyes, and she looks back to James.  "T-true.  True enough, James.  There are representatives of all Archon types here.  There are some affiliated with the nephillim, there is the lord of the Seraphim, there are the sencathi."  Staosha.  Barkiel.  Shalgiel.  Harbonah.  "I will leave them to it."  She casts a dubious glance toward Luke, figuring that one will continue to watch.

Stepping forward, Cyan addresses the Archons, Banglen-Yp, and the being from beyond.  "My lords, ladies, great beings - it seems you have begun proper discourse, and I shall leave you to it.  I require rest, sadly.  I am certain there are many ways you can contact me, not the least of which is..."  A small sigh, and she indicates Luke.  "Through him."  A bow to Harbonah follows.  "Lord Harbonah, I hope to speak with you again, anon."

Straightening, Cyan offers a small smile.  "Left...you are free to join them, of course.  Or, should you desire, you can join us in taking a small break from these delicate circumstances."  Blindly, she reaches out, takes James' arm.  "Away from here," she whispers.  "If none object."

None of those present object, and as James, Cyan and Berd leave the chamber, accompanied by Left and the stained glass Banglen-Yp, who has reverted to her Archon form, the discussion seems to be going well.  Even Dworkin seems to be interested, while not becoming involved, this latter possibly due to the presence of a number of Archons of different sorts, and the original Banglen-Yp.

As the group makes their way back up to the castle, guided by James, the glass Archon speaks to Cyan.  It's voice is a close approximation of the real Archons', but there are noticeable differences.

•• WE SAW THAT YOU SEEMED UNCOMFORTABLE WITH THE IDEA OF THE ONE CALLED LUKE CONTACTING YOU •• WE ARE • OF COURSE LINKED TO THE REST OF OUR GESTALT • AND WILL KEEP YOU APPRISED OF THE SITUATION •• SHOULD IT BE REQUIRED • WE CAN CARRY YOU BACK DOWN THERE VERY QUICKLY INDEED ••

James seems to have a destination in mind as he moves up through the network of tunnels and caverns.

Finally released, Cyan moves from the chamber, pleased to see Left has chosen to follow.  "Thank you, Left.  Your company is much appreciated," she whispers once they have vacated.  She's more than happy to follow James, moving up beside him and hooking her arm through hers to lean slightly - a spiritual and emotional support more than physical.  "By heaven, James.  We may have actually succeeded!"  A wild laugh follows that incredulous statement, and Cyan fights against a sudden surge of emotion that brings tears to her amethyst eyes.

Banglen-Yp's artistic form provides distraction, and the bard cannot help but laugh.  "I would be grateful.  I know not why Luke plucks at my nerves -"

Unnoticed, Berd stirs on her shoulder.

"- but he does.  No fault of his own, I suspect.  I much appreciate the offer, Banglen-Yp, both of communication and transport."

Raising an eyebrow, she glances up to meet James' eyes.  "And where do we now walk, James of Amber?"

"I thought we could use something to eat.  Amber always fed its troops well and, as I recall, there's a ward room just up here." James indicates a flight of steps, leading off from one side of the corridor, and starts up them, "At this time of day, it might even be empty.  We'll probably be able to get some bread, cold cuts, fruit, and a little wine though."

"Here we are."

He reaches out and pushes the door open.  The room isn't as empty as he'd expected.  There are a half-dozen men in a room laid out to seat twenty or so.  The food is about as he'd thought though.

Some of the men seem to recognise James, who leads Cyan to a corner table, away from the crowd.  Left and the Banglen-Yp have reduced themselves to the size of flies, and are staying close to Cyan.

"I think it's going well down there." James says, by way of reassurance, "We might have found a way out of this."

Food.  Cyan nods, her head bobbing with her enthusiasm.  "Indeed, James.  Wise campaigner that you are, you remember to stock up when at all possible."  She snorts a small laugh.  "I would be more than pleased for some wine...the brandy wears thin after a time."

Staying on James' heels, nodding to the men who glance their way, Cyan takes what food she can, follows to the table and settles herself down.  Her fingers work at buckles, and finally her heavy vest is removed, leaving her in her linen shirt.  It's perfectly decent, and she relaxes with a small sigh.  "I believe you are correct, James.  I hope you are correct."

Peering down at her plate, she studies the fruit, the cheese, the breads.  No cold cuts for her.  Snagging the cup of wine, she takes a sip, then another.  No more before eating, though.  Belatedly hanging Fangmir from the back of her chair, Cyan runs her hands through her russet hair.  "Wash.  Bath.  Rest.  How long has it been, again?  We have been moving for some time now.  I will not say that Hosk was relaxing.  Your well of strength is dug much deeper than my own, James, but it must have limits.  Left?  Banglen-Yp?  What of you?"

One hand catches up some bread and she tears off a piece to eat.  On her shoulder, Berd leans forward, salivating; before his drool spatters on her plate, she passes him the hunk of cheese to gnaw upon.

Left swings in closer, and says quietly, + our kind require no rest, and we derive sustenance from motion.  while we continue to move, we can not suffer what you would call starvation. +

Banglen-Yp's laughter tinkles, like a hundred tiny glass bells.  •• that is an elegant solution my friend •• ours was different • because we are not the same as you •• at the most miniscule level all things are the same •• you • us • cyan • berd • nine lives • this table • the spider in the corner • stone • dust • fire • the heat and light from the sun • even the sun itself •• all the same •• and we can eat any of them ••

James about to take a mouthful of cold pork stops and lowers his fork. "It's just as well your people didn't attack, you'd have been in competition with us for food."

•• not exactly •• your concern • it is as if that piece of meat were to be worried about who would eat the apple •• You would not be in competition for food • you would be food

Sustenance from motion.  Interesting.  Cyan slowly nods as Left explains.  There is so much, after all, that she does not know of the Archons, despite having spent more than three years with them.  "Well, now I comprehend better, Left, as to why being trapped is such a danger to you.  Or crowded.  Reasons within reasons, and I thank you for your trust."  It is trust, after all.  For Left to express one of the Archons' weaknesses, so casually, just to impart further understanding, that is impressive.  "I am well-pleased to have known you, and to know you still."

Archons do change, as do all living things.

But Banglen-Yp's words are chilling, to say the least.  "I, for one, am thus doubly relieved that your people chose the path of peace, rather than the attack.  Despite Dworkin's treatment, even."  She shakes her head in disbelief, sapphire eyes wide.  "But then, tell me.  Do you require further sustenance?  Do you need to eat?  Or is it a choice?  For certainly your...other part has consumed and become everything in its own universe, as it has stated."

•• yes • and no •• and yes ••  There is more of the delicate, musical laughter.

•• consuming gives us substance • allowing us to grow • otherwise we would always remain the same weight •• but we do not need to consume to survive •• consuming also gives us the strength to shape our form • and without consuming we cannot change ••

•• when we feed • we are as you have seen us •• mutable •• when we don't • then we stagnate •• an endless existence trapped in the same form for all eternity •• which is a long time for us to go without finding something that we can eat ••

•• all of this • of course • only applies here •• in our own world we absorb directly what other parts of us generate ••
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:56, Mon 30 May 2016.

Cyan pauses.  "So...in your own world, are you really separate and discreet beings?  Operating under some kind of concensus?  Or conjoined minds?"  The explanation hints at this.  "But then, you would all be of the same 'kind' of being."  The bard rolls her eyes.  "If an infinitely mutable being would be considered to be identical to another infinitely mutable being."

She picks at her food.  "Or are you all the same being, separate, and feeding off yourself?  It makes for a curious question, Banglen-Yp, one I have difficulty encompassing.  But then, it is somewhat ridiculous to expect my mind to be capable of encompassing eternity."

Looking up, she stares directly into the 'woman's' eyes.  "I hope I can trust your...your 'other side'.  I would not wish for the Archons to enter into a situation fraught with danger."

•• we are not really individuals •• when a part of us was torn away • broken up • and scattered across these worlds • that was the first time in memory that a part of us had lived separately from the whole ••

•• in situations like the current one • though • we can partition our mind to argue different viewpoints •• normally we would be just a single entity • and the realm that that entity occupies •• you are in this room, sitting on a chair that stands on the floor •• you breathe the air and eat the food •• in our realm we would be in the room too • but we would also be the room • the chair • the floor • the air • and the food ••

And there is more laughter, which fades quickly, and the voice grows serious.

•• you can trust us ••

•• interesting question though •• now we have one for you •• at what point did you stop thinking of archons as monsters • and start being concerned about whether they are in danger ••

More interesting information from Banglen-Yp, all of it filed into Cyan's mind.  The picture becomes more clear with every discussion.  The existence of such a being seems impossible...contradictory, even.  But there are, as the great bard said, more things in heaven and earth....

"I do trust you," Cyan replies quietly.  "I do not know the 'other' you, but the you that sits before me?  I trust.  And if you say I can trust all of you, then I believe this."

And a question.

Blinking topaz eyes, Cyan sits back.  "When?"  She considers, carefully, for long moments as Berd raises his head, studying her with some curiosity.  Finally she speaks, beginning slowly.  "It is a matter of perspective.  In the beginning, I knew nothing of the Archons.  I viewed them as singular - the enemy.  I had no idea they were a race of their own.  In time, I became aware of this.  But even then, my perspective separated the Archons into two groups: the enemy - the Seraphim - and those who were helpful - the Nephillim."  A sad smile shadows her features.  "It is an oddity - a painful oddity - of living beings that we tend to label, to group, and then to steal away truths with these labels and groups.  The enemy becomes nothing more than that, and we cease to see them as anything but.  It allows us to take action against them, actions we could not take against friends.  Perhaps...perhaps it is a survival instinct, something allowing us to circumvent morality in times of danger or threat allowing us to act without hesitation.  Unfortunately, it is often the cause of all manner of atrocities; if those beings, there, are not part of 'our' group, if we have labelled them otherwise, we no longer see them as individuals or even people.  If they are not people, well, they can be treated as we desire."

The bard runs fingers through her russet hair.  "In time, in experience, and mostly due to my...tenure as the General, I came to realize that Archons are, indeed, people.  They became no longer a faceless enemy.  It seeped into my mind that they were merely individuals like myself, struggling with their own situation.  Perhaps, from my point of view, they made poor choices and those poor choices had terrible consequences.  But such has been the case of people throughout the history of the universe itself, and should a people be extinguished for that?  No."  She waves a hand toward her father.  "Berd had similar experiences with Archons.  Both of us, independently, came to the realization that this war should not be won - rather, it needed to be stopped."

With a small sigh, she closes her eyes in thought.  "Had I the need to pinpoint the time, I expect it began shortly after I met you, Banglen-Yp.  Freed of my...programming, I began to explore other choices in my mind, search for other options than annihilation.  I had already given too much of myself to that, had already been the cause of so many deaths.  I wanted a better way."

•• you can trust all of me •• we are not individual entities • we are all one • and we are all of one mind on this ••

Banglen-Yp loses focus for an instant, then comes back

•• harbonah has entered our realm ••

•• he appears to be thriving there •• there was a little concern that the realm might harm the Archons ••

"I do trust you."

There comes a pause, then further information flows.  "Ah.  Thank you, Banglen-Yp."  Cyan's lips thin, then she relaxes.  "There.  We see again that finding terms with Harbonah was the wise decision.  As a leader, he cares about his people.  Who took the plunge into the potentially dangerous unknown first?  Harbonah."

One hand rises, raking through her hair, and Cyan stares blindly into space with her sapphire eyes.  "I have...had a difficult past with Harbonah.  But knowing him now, I cannot help but respect his reasons, his work on behalf of his people.  Yes, he has become their leader.  But is he not one of the best suited for such?"

Berd hums a little melody, and the bard relaxes a hair.  "I bear him no ill-will any more.  Only echoes of bad memories."  Echoes of pain.  "If he can save his people, if he can help save all of us from war, he has nothing but my appreciation."

With a long, slow breath, she lets out more old pain.  One finger touches James' shoulder.  "I would be pleased if you could feel the same, James."

James shakes his head slowly, "Perhaps one day, but not until I am sure that all is resolved.  Harbonah's goals may have been lofty - to save his people - but the cost was too high to bear.  For us, for the people of the Myriad Worlds, for the Archons themselves.  Worlds destroyed, numberless people dead - people who never posed a threat to Harbonah, and Archons fighting an organised war on a massive scale, instead of their own personal skirmishes and quarrels."

He shrugs, "It's in my nature.  I can't relax my guard while an enemy still presents a threat, so until I have seen that Harbonoh is no longer my enemy, that he no longer poses a threat of endless war for all, then the most I can offer is watchfulness."

"Don't get me wrong.  I can forgive an enemy, but I will not forget what they did.  And too many friends and allies have died for me to forgive so soon.  Too many enemies too, pushed into a war that has, in the end, turned out to be pointless."

"All true," Cyan quietly replies, her emerald eyes downcast.  James has the right of much of that, and certainly the right to his own feelings.  And understandable feelings they are.  "The story of people since the dawn of time, the only difference being scale."  Letting out a long, slow sigh, the bard settles back.  "Forgetting...we should not.  Forgiveness, well, that is another thing entirely."

Closing her eyes, she leans back.  "A pointless war.  Like all of them, in the end."

Best to let this one die, Cyan decides, remaining silent for a few moments.  "I believe we should inform the lords of Amber that a bargain has been struck," she finally begins, poking again at her food.  Berd clambers down her arm, onto the table, and starts on the other side of the plate; she doesn't object, in her weariness.  "Once we have finished," Cyan elaborates, with a small wave at the food, "perhaps we ought to seek out someone of import?"

•• it would be safe to tell them you have succeeded •• almost certainly •• harbonah appears to be happy with his visit to our realm ••  Banglen-Yp starts to dance, although the style seems to be an almost-random mixture of different forms from a myriad different worlds.

•• i believe you have won ••

•• unless something goes terribly wrong that is ••

Cyan cannot help but laugh, her topaz eyes sparkling in the room's light.  "Oh, Banglen-Yp," she chuckles.  "You should know that speaking of triumph is oft thought of as bringing about bad luck - that 'terribly wrong' of which you speak.  But I have never believed in such things, and your joy uplifts my spirit."

On the table, Berd warbles agreement...through a mouth full of food, as the plate is nigh-empty.

"James, I take it you will know where to find one of royal blood?  Perhaps the king himself?"  Cyan gestures at the room.  "I find this building, this palace bewildering.  Its size is colossal - for me, it is a maze, more than a domicile."  Her finger catch Fangmir, and her other hand snags her pack; Cyan slowly rises, rolling her shoulders against a now-familiar aching.  The journey has taken its toll - a journey of more than a decade for her.  Her body is weary...weary, but still holding strong.

She will see this through to the end, even if it takes another decade.

Or more.

"Easier to get to Bleys." James replies, after a moment's thought.  "I work for him, at least some of the time, so I can usually get a message to him in short order, as long as he's somewhere around the castle or the city."

"That means talking to somebody who can take a message to him.  Which is easy enough... the man has a good network of agents around the city, as well as here."  He stands, and nods to Cyan.  "So let's see if we can find one of them."

He gestures towars the door, and bows, smiling.

"Bleys it is," Cyan states with a sudden return of energy.  Up rises the pack, back to her shoulder; with Fangmir seated properly, she gives James a sharp nod.  "I am ready, James.  Only..." Some of the enthusiasm fades a touch.  "Prince Bleys.  He was the one who gave you Fangmir, was he not?"  Her fingers twiddle nervously for a moment, and her sapphire gaze darts about the room.  "Should...should you perhaps wear your own sword?  Or would he take it poorly if I were to carry it?  I would prefer it...but if it might make things difficult for you, I would be well-willing to trade for the moment."

Not...entirely; the Deathiron has become something she can barely tolerate.  But the idea of setting James at odds with one who has assisted him, with whom he no doubt enjoys a worthy relationship?  That, for Cyan, is unacceptable.

One hand falls to the heavy sword's hilt.  "Speak the word, and I return it to you."

"Good question,"James thinks for a moment, "I... think I had better take it.  As you said, Bleys gave me Fangmir.  And I have carried it in his presence before.  He might react poorly to an armed stranger, and one who has apparently relieved me of Fangmir."

He accept the weapon with both hands, and grimaces.  "It seems heavier than I remember."

He leads the way out of the room, and starts along the corridor.

As they walk he speaks, quietly and urgently, "Bleys... well... I need to tell you something about him.  He can be tricky to handle,  Not as bad as some of the others, I think, but he's always looking for any advantage he can find in a situation.  Just be careful what you say to him.  He will hold you to promises, and expect agreements to be fulfilled."

A few moments work of clever fingers upon buckles, and over goes Fangmir, leaving Cyan...weaponless.  An odd feeling, to be sure; over the years, she has borne three very different blades.  Kirilindë.  Gurthang.  Fangmir.  Now she carries none.

It leaves her buoyant, in more ways than one.

James, of course, is now most heavily armed, but perfectly capable of bearing the weight.  She listens carefully to his cautions, her emerald eyes grave, and slowly nods in agreement.  "I have heard such things about the lords and ladies of Amber..."  For an instant, those eyes sparkle with amusement.  "Present company excepted, mind you.  It is good to have it from someone who can claim first-hand knowledge.  I will bear it in mind, no fear."

One thin, rusty eyebrow rises.  "And I keep my promises; so I will most certainly be chary of granting them upon someone."  Again the smile, this time a tad more weighty.  "Present company," she repeats, "excepted."

Upon her shoulder, Berd continues to semi-sleep, his eyes glittering behind slit-closed lids.

James laughs, and for a moment a weight seems to lift from his shoulders, "I'm no lord of Amber.  I'm a jumped-up messenger boy."

And then the burden drops again, and his previous mien is restored.  "Now to find Bleys."

Banglen-Yp suddenly interrupts, •• More Archons have gone across the bridge between worlds •• And those that remained on this side have left • to deliver a message •• Harbonah has sent them to his people • to tell them all that they have a new home ••

The tiny Archon replica bursts into flame, and vanishes in a puff of rose scented smoke, only to reform seconds later.

•• Sorry •• I got too excited ••

"Hardly a jumped-up messenger-boy!" Cyan cries in disbelief, though she laughs as well.  But sadly, James' features grow stern again, and the moment passes.  With a sigh, Cyan moves to follow...but Banglen-Yp, it seems, has important news.

Important news indeed.

"But this is tremendous!" Cyan clutches her hands together, close to glee, her heart overflowing with joy.  Tears threaten, and she throws her arms around James, hugging him from behind in a paroxysm of happiness.  "I had no idea it would happen so swiftly...but it happens, now!  We are so very close!"  There's a brief, vain attempt to whirl James around (might as well move a pillar) before she releases him, stepping back to run one hand through her hair.

"Lords of the West, I can hardly blame you for excitement, Banglen-Yp!  I certainly hope Right will not vanish without saying goodbye...do you think, Left?"  Then her own features grow serious.  "I had not thought...of course, you and Right will leave as well."

The quest, it seems, will steal away two more of her friends...two of the most unlikely Cyan could ever dream of.

Berd picks himself up off the ground from where he fell when Cyan began her eruption; with a dirty look for his daughter, he flits through the air to perch upon James' shoulder.  It's safer, and certainly more stable.

+ IT OCCURS TO US THAT HARBONAH MIGHT WISH TO ASSIGN... TRUSTED AGENTS... TO OBSERVE THIS WORLD WHILE HE, AND MOST OF OUR PEOPLE, ARE IN THE NEW ONE.  HE WOULD BE FOOLISH TO RISK A MOVE INTO THE UNKNOWN WITHOUT ENSURING THAT HE KNOWS WHETHER OR NOT A RETREAT IS POSSIBLE. + Left replies thoughtfully.

+ THIS MAY NOT BE A FAREWELL FOR ALL OF US. +

"This...would please me," Cyan confesses.  "I would not have you both forsake your people, should that be where you wish to stay.  But I would also not lose my friends."  And with that, a dreadful thought occurs to her.

"Though," Cyan continues, her eyes dulling to pale sapphire, "I have no right to ask.  At some point in the future - I know not how long - I myself will leave.  I am no immortal, nor do I have a dozen lives to spend; my time here will end.  As such, my requests for friendship -"

- said with a sidelong glance to James, and thoughts of perhaps more -

"- are selfish; I cannot offer what you offer, friendship spanning my entire life."

Her smile is bleak.  "I fear of all things, this hurts the most: that I cannot reciprocate fully what might be offered to me.  But in the time I have, I will strive to make up for it with quality."

Left seems oblivious to the glance at James.  + WE UNDERSTAND MORTALITY.  THOUGH NOT QUITE IN THE WAY THAT YOU DO.  ARCHONS DO NOT DIE PEACEFULLY OF OLD AGE, AS A RULE.  THERE IS ALMOST ALWAYS VIOLENCE INVOLVED, LONG BEFORE ONE OF US SUCCUMBS TO DECREPITUDE.  THOUGH THAT MAY CHANGE NOW THAT WE HAVE A NEW HOME, WITH MORE SPACE TO LIVE IN. +

+ THANKS LARGELY TO YOURSELF, GENERAL, OUR OLD WAY OF LIFE MIGHT VERY WELL BE LEFT BEHIND. +

James grins at that, "Elderly Archons watching the sun set as they wait to build up enough strength to move.  That I'd like to see."

"You and I both, James," Cyan quietly states, savouring the image he offers.  "I wonder, Left, how old your people will live now?  How much their lives will change?  How things might grow in your...society, so to speak, now that the pressures have been removed?"

One russet eyebrow rises over a topaz eye.  "For the moment, in any case.  I am aware that the pressures will return.  However, having a universe that actively watches might constrain such things as...having children.  Additionally, there might be less desire to become multiple if there is no need for such, thanks to safety - unless such a thing is automatic."

Her voice lowers.  "Left, you kept information from me, but I blame you not for that.  I do not know if you harbor guilt - it is, of course, somewhat wrong of me to automatically think you might - but if so, absolve yourself."  Cyan sighs, running fingers through her hair.  "We all conceal, and usually for reasons that seem good to us."

She muses for a moment, a small smile playing about her lips.  "I would love to see the changes in your society as well."  Though Cyan likely will not.  "I would also enjoy sitting and watching the sun set in my dotage," the bard continues, her voice lifting.  The smile becomes a grin.  "Can you arrange this, oh master of worlds?" she inquires of James.

Left falls almost silent, blades producing only a sibilant hiss as they cleave the air.

"I'm sure I can sort something out for you."  James leads the way into a dead-end corridor, which is revealed to be an optical illusion.  Cunningly worked masonry disguises a narrow, low-ceilinged tunnel which leads away from one side.  Niches in one wall hold candles which light the way but dimly.  In places, James must turn sideways and edge through constrictions.

"Bleys' apartments are just through here.  And beyond that wall," he slaps a hand against the left one, "is open air, the sky above Kolvir, and a three hundred foot drop into a ravine where I have, on occasion, picked blackberries in the Autumn."

Left scrapes her blades together - the Archon equivalent of clearing her throat?  + WE HID THINGS BECAUSE HARBONAH COMMANDED IT GENERAL, NOT BECAUSE WE CHOSE TO. AND WE HAVE NOT DONE SO FOR SOME TIME.  WE OFTEN DISCUSSED WITH RIGHT WHETHER OR NOT WE SHOULD BE CONCEALING INFORMATION FROM YOU. +

+ AS FOR ARCHON DUPLICATION, WE HAVE NO CHOICE IN THIS.  WE GROW AS WE LIVE. AND THE MORE WE GROW, THE LESS STABLE WE BECOME.  EVENTUALLY WE FRAGMENT - ALWAYS.  BUT IF WE DIVIDE VOLUNTARILY BEFORE FRAGMENTATION OCCURS, WE HAVE MORE CONTROL OVER THE PROCESS, AND ITS RESULTS. +

Cyan works her way through the convoluted path, highly impressed by the various tricks and concealments.  "I would have likely missed it at a glance," she murmurs, "and why would I spend more time than that on a dead end?"  She listens to her tour guide speak of pastimes, and cannot help but smile.  "I find it difficult picturing you picking blackberries; perhaps we might do that, after we are finished?  Autumn is never far away, when one has the Myriad Worlds."  A quick jaunt away, a return, and it WILL be Autumn.

Berd, of course, perks up at the idea of blackberries.

But Cyan falls silent as Left finally speaks.  Slowly she nods her head.  "I fear I must apologize; I most certainly had not meant my observation as remonstration, Left.  You had reasons - and good ones.  There lies no blame or recrimination in me for you."

Her tone quiets a touch.  "And I am pleased you did not wish to keep secrets...my friend."

"As for your division?"  She shrugs, less concerned about that than her compatriot's feelings.  "That, as you note, is a concern for the future - much farther in the future than it would be here.  Perhaps, with time, your people might find a way past the problem; without time, there would be no chance.  This provides that time, and thus?  A preferable ending to the conflict."

The narrow tunnel ends, blocked by a tapestry which James pushes aside.  The group emerge into a wide hallway,  The nearer end, very close to the concealed tunnel, comprises a bay window, presenting a view of a steep-sided valley, with forest on the far edge.  In the other direction the hallway runs deeper into the castle,

James indicates a quartet of soldiers standing guard outside a double door across the hall.  "Bleys." he says, simply, and starts to walk towards them.  As he gets closer, he raises a hand.  "Ho Francis!  Is the prince home?  We have important news for him."

One of the men nods, "Hello James.  He's in, but give me a moment to see if he's receiving visitors."

The guard knocks on the door, which is opened by somebody inside, and he steps inside.  The door closes behind him.

The moment stretches into five minutes, before the door opens and the guard re-emerges.  Another man is behind him, flame haired and dressed in red and orange silks.

"James!  Come in.  I hope it's good news you have."

"Actually, it's my friend Cyan, who has the news, Sire, and I think you'll find it good."

They step inside, into a suite of rooms, luxuriously furnished, though a little untidy.  There are a number of empty wine bottles on one of the tables, and only one glass...

"Please tell me.  I could do with some good news." Bleys says, addressing Cyan.

Cyan silently waits, allowing James to take the lead on this.  She bows politely when the guard greets James, but otherwise offers no comment.  Time passes as she waits, and she draws upon what little maturity she has gathered over the course of this Quest.

Berd would say 'very little', naturally.

Finally the man returns, and for the first time Cyan lays eyes upon James' mentor.  She studies him, fiery-haired and charismatic, well-dressed and well-coiffed.  Certainly he holds the bearing of a prince, if a trifle more casual than expected.  But then, he taught James and certainly James, while polished, is relaxed in bearing and habit.

She touches James' arm, partly for luck, and moves to follow.

Once inside, they are greeted by empty bottles and a single glass.  Apparently, Bleys' habits are not so far from her own, though more extravagant.  Cyan bows again, this time to the prince, and commences.  "Your highness," she states.  "I am Cyan, of No Place In Particular."  For some reason, she feels compelled to begin with her old, ironic mode of address.  Is it to bring full circle this quest, which began romantic, became terrible, and transformed, in the end, into something more than both?

"I am here to tell you that the war appears to be over.  A solution has been found to the causes of the war, a solution that will end the threat forever without further loss of life upon either side."

A bold claim, but as far as she knows, truthful.

"I have with me leaders of the Archon race - together, we have discerned and verified the potential and truth.  We come here, now, seeking an end to all hostilities."

Bleys drops into a chair, his expression one of surprise.

"An end to... "  He pauses, as if not sure that he has heard correctly, "This is good news indeed, if you are correct.  What are their terms?  What do they seek in return for this cessation of hostilities?  Bear in mind that we will not surrender Amber, or any part of the Golden Circle to them."

And then he catches himself, and gestures towards other chairs, "Please, be seated, both of you.  Shall I call for more wine?"

Cyan bows at the offer of wine.  "If James wishes for wine - " he probably won't " - I would gladly accept.  I am, however, no connoisseur..."  Berd snorts with some amusement at this vast understatement, but the bard ignores him.  Instead, she moves to sink into a chair, grateful at the respite from standing.

It has been a long and tiring day.

"Terms," Cyan muses, her topaz eyes faraway for a long moment.  Then they focus on their host's face.  "The terms are minimal: the Archons will cease hostilities - and should already have done so - and leave.  They wish nothing more.  They have found an alternative to what they desired, a more acceptable alternative than the destruction of all.  And this has ended their desire for conflict."

Her head bows and she puts her elbows on her knees, staring down at her clasped hands.  "I realize this is of little comfort for those who gave up their lives in the war.  So many lives lost, on both sides.  What seemed completely necessary to both sides - for this was a war of survival, in a way, rather than ideology - has suddenly, miraculously, become unimportant.  But the conflict is ended."

Letting out a long, slow breath, she nods her head.  "We have stumbled back from the brink, both of the sides."

Bleys leans back, staring at a point somewhere above Cyan's head and tapping one index finger against his lower lip.

The moment stretches, until, "Do you agree with this interpretation, James?"

And James answers a simple, "Yes."

"This seems... more than we could have hoped for.  But I'll not look a gift horse in the mouth, as the saying goes."  He straightens up.  "I suppose you were looking for somebody to get word to Random?  I can certainly handle that."

"Meanwhile, I'm ordering both of you to stand down until further notice.  You both deserve a rest after this."

"As you wish, your highness."  Rising, Cyan bows to the prince.  But before leaving, she pauses at the door.  "I truly believe this situation to be the reality, your highness.  I have seen much upon this quest, much to call into question any kind of...swift end to the war, but in this case I will allow it to be truth."  Another bow.  "As does James."

She takes no offense at the questioning of her interpretation; it's a given, really, that in this circumstances there would be doubt.

Once in the hallway, she eyes her two-legged companion speculatively.  Waiting until far enough, Cyan prods his ribs with an elbow (it is grossly unlikely to hurt him at all).  "Well, James?  Your thoughts on this?  You know this prince, and I would hear your own...interpretation."  A small smile occurs at her use of the word; worried, but a smile nonetheless.

James stops, and looks about, as if to ensure that there is nobody within earshot.  When he answers, he keeps his voice low.  "Bleys wasn't his usual self.  Lacking in confidence, I'd say.  I think that this war has taken a great toll on him while we were away.  It would not surprise me if he other Lords of Amber are similarly disturbed."

"If that's the case, then they may be desperate enough to grasp this solution with both hands.  Without question."

His smile is a response to Cyan's own, "I believe we have found an answer, just as long as all goes well between the Archons and Banglen-Yp."

Cyan frowns.  "I confess to some nervousness if you believe Bleys was not...himself," she finishes.  "We have seen too much in the way of spiritual control and shapeshifters, both, in our travels.  Is there any way to ascertain that the man with whom we just spoke is actually not only the Prince of Amber, but in possession of his faculties?"

It's a tall order, she knows; presumably one of the other Princes and Princesses could manage, but Cyan?  Unlikely.  James?  More likely, but...

"Should it be the case," she continues, "then I agree - having them worried and willing to accept a truce would be the preferred situation."  Reaching out, Cyan places and hand on the Amberite's shoulder, her ruby eyes dulled.  "Ah, James.  To sleep in peace for a night is a dream, is it not?"

"A dream worth fighting for." James replies, and his smile is genuine, if a little tired looking.

"But I think you worry too much about Bleys.  He seemed real to me, just weary.  Most of the others I've seen this day bore the same weight, though it would, perhaps, only be apparent to those who knew them in happier times."

"We have more pressing matters to address now.  Somewhere to rest."

He stops again and looks down a side corridor.  "There are guest suites down that way."

"I shall trust your word on the matter," Cyan replies with a nod.  "You know these climes better than myself - far, far better.  Berd ensured that, even had you not been born in the family."  The little dragon stirs uneasily on her shoulder, and she touches him gently.  "You had your reasons," Cyan whispers.

"But I will gladly take that rest," she continues, raising her voice back to normal levels.  "Lead on, and I shall follow.  If my Lord Harbonah and the rest of my escort is satisfied and patient, we might spend some time amending our mortal weariness and rise refreshed in short order."

Briefly, she considers leaving behind one of her other friends...but they might be too easily noted, even doch.  These Amberites have skill with what they call 'Trump'...best not to take a chance.

James, Cyan, and her retinue of followers enter the corridor.  A few minutes later they encounter a servant and James speaks to her quietly.  She starts to lead them further along the passage, then points to two doors, standing opposite each other.  "These two are empty, Sir, and cleaned today."

Cyan looks around her room.  It's seems like forever since she's slept anywhere so comfortable.  A large bed dominates the chamber, with a desk against one wall, and a table and two chairs near the opposite one.  A large window gives a view of a city where lamps are being lit against the approaching night.

Thousands of shapes stream across the darkening sky, then drop towards the base of the castle.  Bats?

No, not bats...  Nor are they birds...

•• Harbonah has called his people •• They fly to the bridge • though these are just the first of them ••

Bangle-Yp is in more or less human form again, and wearing a green robe that shimmers and rustles as she moves.  More, the robe appears to move by itself

•• We can keep watch outside the door • if you wish ••

Cyan slowly nods, staring out the window.  "If you wish, Banglen-Yp."  She flashes the other woman a brief smile.  "I feel that I should be safe here, on the other hand.  Or hope."  The topaz eyes shine in the twilight as she turns back to the Seraphim.  "If...if we have truly found an answer, surely I will spend a night safe?"

What a curious...woman is Banglen-Yp.  Cyan can think of her as nothing else, despite her true identity.

"Look at them," she whispers, studying the Archons.  "So beautiful.  I hope they find what they desire."  Enemies once...but people, still.  Savage, uncaring of anything but their own...but is that not the way of people everywhere, until their minds open further?

Has she not seen that, time and time again, through this journey?

Berd crawls to the pillow, curling up.  Perhaps now he might sleep.  Well, most of him.  He'll do it in shifts.

Banglen-Yp smiles brightly, •• Beautiful • yes •• We shall see that your rest is undisturbed • at least by outside forces ••

And she starts to dwindle and distort... until, dropping to all fours she crawls towards the door, sprouting extra limbs, and passes beneath it in the form of a small spider, which leaves a trail of dust on the carpet.

The sky darkens, but still the Archons are visible.  Or at least a portion of them are - an endless river of sparks and embers moving through the deepening night.

Cyan watches them for more than an hour, with no apparent depletion in the flow...

"This could be the end of it, you know." Jack says, his presence no more surprising than if he had been by Cyan's side throughout the journey, and had simply stepped in to wish her a good night.  But now he wears a lightness about him, and Kalika is with him, smiling, and Hunter too.

"If it's an ending, then it's better than I would have thought possible."

Closing her eyes, Cyan smiles.  "It could be, Jack."  Opening them again - topaz, now - she turns her head to regard her friends over her shoulder.  Friends first, they were, her, Jack and Kalika.  Hunter as well, despite never getting along with Berd.

Fallen, now, by the wayside of the quest, but carried with her...and now, perhaps, together anew.

Tears burn in her eyes as she regards them, shifting slightly to see them with the burning arc of brilliance above them, the archons tracing a path through the night sky.  "My friends," Cyan whispers, her throat tight.  "You.  Us.  And others."  Her voice drops to a whisper.

"Tander, of the forest people."

A green-skinned man with a sharp smile.

"Duncan, from lands unknown."

His heavy accent still rings in her ears.

"Morgan, of the courts."

A greeting sent her way, on entering a distant inn.

"Ares, guardian of peace."

A delighted laugh as Berd makes himself known to the dark warrior.

"Kaelyn."

A heart cold to anything but duty, yet she stood firm in that.

"Leonardo."

Rose-tinted sunglasses, lost in the waves.

"The fallen.  And the others," she whispers.  "Still alive, I hope, still walking the worlds."  And the names roll forth.

Lazarus.  Kendall.  Lexy.  Andrej.  Chance.  Dorian.  Kia.  Meredith.  Serena and Devlin.  Trista.  Morgan and his cats.  Roman.  Tahirah.  Jonnee.

"Aaron," she whispers.  "Even Luke."

"And here?  James.  Banglen-Yp."

All of them, walking on the path.  All of them, making the path.  The path, the story, the salvation of all.

Tears flow down her cheeks, unhindered; for once, Cyan's grief is graceful, mixed as it is with joy and hope.  "Love," she breathes.  "I have loved you all, in different ways, and still do.  Whatever comes, that shall not change.  Wherever you are, wherever you go, you have my thanks."

And with each name whispered, a friend appears, or a companion, or an ally.  They speak to Cyan briefly - words of gratitude, or congratulations on her finding a successful solution.  And then they fade away again, until no more of them remain to be summoned...

And then a final form appears unbidden, one that makes Cyan, the real Cyan, stir in her sleep.  A figure clad in armour which bears the image of a monstrous snake-haired woman on the breast plate, and wearing a helm which conceals its features.  This one says nothing, but it sketches a bow, and then the armour falls apart, revealing that it is empty.

Just an animated shell - Harbonah's General is no longer within, and not even the ghost of her pain remains inside the armour.

Cyan opens her eyes to find the grey light of dawn beyond the window.  The stream of Archons still pours out of the sky...

Slowly, she paces across the room to again stand at the window, the panes opened wide.  Leaning out, the bard rests her arms upon the stone, staring at the stream of light across the lightening sky.  A slow sigh escapes her, a release.

Peace, perhaps; her friends have once again supported her, putting to rest her inner demons.

Boktnoj flies the realms above; Denokad paces the forests of her spirit alongside gamboling Vadchok.  Gratag-nok calls out to the eagle from his water, and Hokod watches from the shadowy bushes.  As for Juchak, and Doch?

They keep company with her mentor, [click]-ogok, with her yet in spirit.

"Left?  Right?" she queries quietly, not knowing if Left remains, or where Right might be.  "I shall never forget you, even if you choose to leave.  Nor Staosha, Barkiel, and Shalgiel."  Reaching up, she studies the arc wistfully, passing her fingers through it in her vision as if it is a ripple in a river.  "Your support made this possible as well."

On the bed, Berd watches, his eyes alight, swirling galaxies within them.

A small smile tilts her lips, and Cyan cocks her head to the side.  "And...my Lord Harbonah?  Are you yet here?  Or have you left this place, to guide your people?"  She closes her eyes, shutting her lids on amythest irises.  "If you yet remain, I would speak with you a moment."

Unseen, Luke watched.  His presence brought Cyan discomfort, but perhaps...perhaps this time they might speak without rancor, here at the end: both children of their father.  He would wait, watch, and judge the moment.

As always.

Left is, as it turns out, still present.  Much reduce in size, and hovering as silently as an Archon can, which is to say that she is no larger, and no louder, than a gnat.  Still, as Cyan speaks her name, she starts to grow in both size and volume.

+ WE ARE STILL HERE, GENERAL.  AND WE CAN FEEL RIGHT MOVING ACROSS WORLDS, ON THE WAY HERE.  HARBONAH HAS CROSSED THE BRIDGE AND MOVED FAR BEYOND IT.  HE IS OUTSIDE OUR REACH FOR THE MOMENT.  OUR PEOPLE FOLLOW HIM OVER.  NUMBERLESS AS GRAINS OF SAND. +

Cyan slowly nods.  "It might have been good," she whispers, "to have spoken to Harbonah a final time.  My good wishes, I suspect, mean little to him.  But I think I would have liked to give them, in any case.  To tell him that what lies between us, lies in the past."  A small, sad smile quirks her lips.  "And that I hope a glorious future awaits him, and his people."

Peace; within and without.

Berd stirs again on the bed, but for now Cyan pays him no heed.  Instead, her topaz eyes fix on Left.  "And you, Left?  You and Right?  Will you leave, I wonder?  Will you avail yourself of The Bridge now, or at some near point in the future?"  Her smile fades and she grows solemn.  "For The Bridge, I think, will remain until someone does something foolish."

Someone always does.

Turning back, she studies the still-flowing river, reaching out a hand again, this time as if to let the distant sparkles trickle through her fingers.  "I expect that shall not happen for some time to come.  Banglen-Yp - herself, her...other self - seem perfectly capable of holding it."  Again Berd stirs, and Cyan's smile returns.  Berd will, she knows, assist with that in his own, subtle ways.

"Or will you stay?" the bard continues.  "Will you journey this universe that has begun to fascinate Right?  Will you continue to question, to seek, to learn as much as you can before departing?"  Her smile becomes wistful.  "I could be your guide, your interpreter...I know something of the Myriad Worlds, after all of my wandering.  I have not yet visited a hint of their glory, but I know travelling."  Her stare seeks something in the distance, well-outside of sight.  "I have journeying of my own to do."

Turning, she faces away from the stream of Archons and toward Left.  Her friend.  "Perhaps James will accompany us - I cannot say.  But I would enjoy your company, yours and Right's should you so choose."  Her head inclines in a small nod.  "But if your desire is to join your people, this I understand...and hold nothing against that choice, or yourselves.  I only wish you the best of a new life in a place free of war."

+ WE MAY STAY, RIGHT AND OURSELVES. + Left replies.  + HARBONAH MAY DEEM IT WISE TO KEEP AGENTS IN THIS WORLD.  WE WOULD CROSS THE BRIDGE, AND SOON.  BUT IF HARBONAH SEEKS AGENTS, WE WOULD PUT OURSELVES FORWARD.  WE HAVE EXPERIENCE OF DEALING WITH PEOPLE HERE, AND YOU HAVE TAUGHT US MUCH. +

+ WHEN WE CROSS THE BRIDGE, WE CAN CARRY YOUR WORDS TO HARBONAH, IF YOU SO DESIRE. +

The Archon moves across to hover near the window, as if she needs to do that to see her people swarming past.

+ THE RATE AT WHICH THEY GO TO THE BRIDGE HAS REDUCED.  NOT BY MUCH, BUT IT IS A DEFINITE REDUCTION.  AT THIS RATE, ALL WILL HAVE CROSSED WITHIN SIX DAYS. +

"You have carried me; I will ask a touch more of you," Cyan requests, "to indeed carry my words.  For what they are worth."  She leans her forearms on the windowsill, staring into the growing light with burning eyes that shift shades through all shades of stones but two: diamond and onyx.

"Six days," Cyan whispers.  "Then I shall see you no more, save if Harbonah chooses to send you.  But only if you wish, Left."

"I would go with you," she continues, and Berd stirs again.  But he yet maintains his silence.  "But I doubt I would survive.  And I, in the end, would be alone, I think.  Best I stay here.  Wander the worlds for what time remains to me."  Her head turns, her eyes find her father.  Slowly the little dragon nods.  "However many years that might be," Cyan whispers, returning her gaze to the glittering river of light.

It might very well be few; Berd forged her strong, and she burns all-too-quickly.

"Endings come to everything," Cyan whispers.  "Even to this war.  Thank the Lords of the West."  A smile touches her lips again.  "Thank my friends, who truly did this deed."

"But," she states, taking up an earlier thread, "I believe I shall wander alone - or with you, Right and Left, and perhaps James - in the beginning."  Berd does not nod, this time, only watches her carefully.  Turning she studies the ancient creature upon her bed.  "We need time apart, Berd.  Time for you to find yourself...and for myself to do the same."  She bows her head.  "But not forever.  I would not be separate from you.  I only wish...."

Understanding flows from Berd, and Cyan sighs with relief.  "Thank you," she whispers.

+ ENDINGS.  YES. +  Left's voice, for all that the Archon is a hoop of scraping, clashing metal, without an actual face, sounds almost as if she is smiling.

+ WOULD THAT ALL ENDINGS WERE AS GOOD AS THIS ONE, OUR GENERAL. +  Then she hesitates, before adding, + OUR FRIEND. +  She sounds as if the word feels unfamiliar to her.

+ FRIEND.  WE DO NOT BELIEVE THAT WE HAVE EVER USED THAT WORD BEFORE.  WE MAY BE THE FIRST ARCHON EVER TO USE IT, AT LEAST WITH ANY DEGREE OF SINCERITY.  WE ARE CHANGING. +

And Left lapses into silence, or as close to it as it's possible to get when one is a wheel of rapidly moving metal shards which can never be still.

"This pleases me, greatly.  Because..."  Cyan reaches a hand toward the Archon, stopping well-short.  "I value friends.  I have so few, now.  I would not lose any of the remaining ones."

"Not for some time yet, in any case," she whispers.

Back to the window, and she leans against the sill, holding herself with her arms.  Staring out into the sunrise and the glittering rainbow of Archons in the sky.  "I shall await Right.  Find out your decisions.  Watch, as this river fades.  And when it is done, I shall leave this castle."  Glancing down at the stony walls, she sighs.  "So much time passed trying to come here, and I finally discover it is not the place for me."

A shrug follows, her ruby eyes glinting with some amusement. "But then...is that not what journeys are for?  To also find oneself?"

And she raises a hand toward the vanishing Archons - salute, a wave goodbye, recognition of their place (old and new)...

...all of those things, and more?

"Thank you."

Behind her, Berd falls off the bed, ambling in search of food.  The more things change....

The day passes slowly, and without much change.  The stream of Archons continues to flow across the sky, diminishing slowly but never halting entirely.  Occasionally something happens to disturb them, and they wheel and swirl, like a murmuration of starlings settling to roost, and then they settle down again, and the stream trails unendingly across the sky once more...

Beyond the door there is occasional panic, but authoritative voices calm the people, and the incidents lessen as the day goes on.

James calls in to announce that the Lords of Amber are taking steps to maintain order in the face of the sudden influx of former enemies.

A couple of times during the day servants appear with food, rapping politely on the door before entering and depositing a tray close to Cyan.

The bard watches the Archons.  Banglen-Yp keeps her informed of how things progress beyond the bridge.  James brings news from elsewhere in the castle.  All seems to be going well.

And gradually the sky darkens, as the sun sets in a blaze of black and crimson.  A darkness split by a current of fire and lightning...

And it occurs to Cyan that the Shadow War is ended.

It's time to find something else to do.




This message was last edited by the GM at 13:53, Sun 12 Mar 2017.