"We DID find him down there, recently."  Luke frowned.  "Recently...yes, time is more of an issue for me than some.  Recently according to Berd and others.  According to you, it might have been some time ago.  I think I'll have a look.  A moment, if you would?"

He cast his senses out, their focus narrowed, searching for the way to the small chamber in which Dworkin had imprisoned the sencathi.

OOC - Short post.  Apologies, am busy with Christmas Scramble!

...it's a kind of breakfast.  ^_^

Luke reaches out with his mind, searching for the half familiar room deep below the castle.  Minutes pass.  There are other places that he recognises - passages and corridors that he knows lay close to the room he's looking for.  But the room itself is gone.  There isn't even space for it.

Fiona looks at him, "Any luck?"  Her smile tells him that she knows what he was doing, and just how successful it was.  "Grandfather's pretty good at hiding his tracks."

"Well," Luke breathed. "Isn't that special." Frowning, he turned back to the princess.  "I'm guessing you don't need an answer.  Which begs the question: what next?  We need to find Dworkin or, if not him, the means to open a 'doorway' to this universe.  It's critical that we achieve this before the Archons decide we've bargained in poor faith and just go back to the original plan because it was working.  Patience is not their greatest virtue - that would be persistance."

Slowly he shakes his head.  "I'm not an expert on other Universes, unless you happen to have Skagganauk Abyss stuffed into your pocket.  So it's either Dworkin or...maybe there's an alternative?"  One eyebrow arched as he studied her.  "Have any of your royalty ever looked into this?"

"Nobody finds him.  At least I don't think they do.  Not any more." Fiona leans a little closer to Luke and lowers her voice, "The trick is to arrange for him to find you.  Do something to make him curious and, sooner or later, you'll find yourself meeting him by accident.  Dull people never find him, but the interesting ones do.  Some of them quite frequently."

She sighs, "The other trick is, of course, working out what will interest him enough to bring him out of hiding.  Showing an unusual ability might do it.  Or bloodshed.  Or locating a section of the dungeons that he's never been to - though that one's getting harder every day."

"Spectacular." Luke blew out a long, slow breath.  "I cannot stress how much we need him.  Right.  Now.  But I understand - he keeps his own schedule, and doesn't give two figs for silly things like 'the Universe collapsing'.  After all, he can probably whip up another."

The dark man paced in a circle.  "One would think he might just be interested in what we're doing with the Archons.  And against them.  And what we've done.  I suppose tastes differ.  I could manage the bloodshed, but I doubt anyone would want that.  Unusual abilities?  I warp worlds and pace through time, but I'm guessing that's old hat to someone like him."

Pausing, he shot a glance to where Aaron spoke with Corwin.  "I suppose Aaron losing a body part wouldn't be anything new, either," Luke mused.  Then his eyes flicked back to the small, red-haired princess.  "But I'm betting that you might have some thoughts.  After all, you seem to know him well."

Fiona exhales.  A long, exasperated sigh.  "He's my grandfather.  You'd think I'd know the things that interest him, but... " she trails off, and shakes her head slowly.  Then, "This might do the trick though."  She moves across to a side table and opens a drawer, pulling forth what seems to be a pack of playing cards.

"You've seen him.  Go down into the dungeons, then look through these until you find his likeness.  Concentrate on the image, and you might be able to contact him.  Nobody's using these just lately, since some of the decks were infected.  The fact that you're using one to contact him might get his attention."

Luke blew out a small snort. "We don't all get along with our families.  I quite understand."  Accepting the pack of Trumps - he was familiar with the concept, thanks to Cyan's own work - he bounced them on his hand.  "The loan is appreciated.  Let's hope the infection is 'fixed'.  But let me see what I can do with them."

Of course, with the Trumps he now had Dworkin's psychic signature.

"Give me a few minutes."

For an instant, he stood in multiples; then his shades vanished, but not before one began to pace toward the doorway.

Time became a stepping stone, and Luke shifted ahead through it to a time when he stood within the dungeon, having walked there.  Arriving, he twisted back, this time moving himself back through time without altering space.  And...done.

A second had passed, but now he stood in the dungeon itself.

Whistling a slow tune under his breath, one that fans of Earth-music of the time the first man walked upon that world's moon might recognize, he shuffled through the cards before finding that of a hunchback.  Raising an eyebrow, he studied it for long moments, memorizing the psychic pattern embedded within the cards. "Doesn't mean I can find the old fox," he muttered.  "But it might help."

Then he focused.

The card grows cold in his hand, then colder still, until the very air in the becomes chill.  Water, seeping from the joins between the stone blocks of the walls, freezes.  Luke's breath hangs, misty, before him...

The chill fills the room, until even time itself seems to freeze, and Luke's joints ache.  He has only ever felt cold this intense in one very special place...

And then there is a voice, a thin, querulous whisper...  "What do you want?  Have you come to steal something from your old grandfather?  Well, you're out of luck... I don't have anything worth stealing.  You know, they told me you were gone.  Dead.  They were wrong, here you are, large as life.  And in disguise, to boot.  A clear sign of a thief.  But disguise or no, you can't fool me Brand.  What do you want?

Ah.

Luke remembered the cold.  With effort, he began to draw in strength from the underflow, attempting to bolster this body he wore against its touch.  Cocking his head, he listened to the voice, slowly nodding.  "I see," he finally stated once it had run down into a final question.  "I suppose it wouldn't help if I told you I'm not Brand?  I'm not even one of your relatives."

One eyebrow rose.  "Surely you can sense the Great Pattern?  How it has left no mark upon me?"

He follows with a shrug.  "But...that might not convince you.  I'm sure this Brand was - or is - a clever fellow.  So I'll just answer your question.  What do I want?"

The dark man leaned forward.  "You brought the scre'ath here from another place.  Where was that place?"

"You can't fool me.  I know who you are.  Oh, the disguise is clever, and would no doubt get past your brothers and sisters, but I know you.  I remember how you used take in everything I said.  How you'd hold it in your mind, and view every facet of it from all possible angles, until you understood it completely.  You were always my favourite."

The wall rearranges itself, the blocks shifting and changing shape as the joints between them transform to sketch the outline of a huge face.  Cracks appear in the reshaped stones, creating lines which speak of age.

The eyes open, and Luke finds himself looking into the depths of space, where galaxies whirl in an endless dance.

"The scre'ath?  That was a mistake.  Not ruthless enough.  I can tell you where it came from, or send you there if you want.  But tell me first, why do you want to know?"

Very, very dangerous, this game.  He didn't know the rules, didn't know the stakes (easy to assume they were high, though).  But wasn't that the point?  Easy games were boring for him, for others.  Like Dworkin, himself.

"You can believe what you want," he states.  "You think I'm Brand?  Fair enough.  I'll be Brand.  Don't say I didn't warn you if you find different."  He paused to watch the face form itself, the eyes open.

It wasn't simply metaphor, Luke suspected; there was power here, true power, and its name was Dworkin.

"I want to know because it wants to go back.  And in doing so, it can take some troublesome pests with it.  You know?  Archons?  Currently storming through your creation, making cracks here, breaking things there, setting up to make the whole thing fall apart?"  He waved a finger in the air, a falling sort of gesture. "But the scre'ath has agreed to take them in.  So, how about pointing the way?"

"Interesting."

No indication of which part of Luke's story he is referring to.  Does he find the fact that Luke is not, in fact, Brand interesting?  Or that he might be Brand, but denies it when faced by somebody who knows him very well?  Or that the scre'ath might be an answer, of sorts, to the Archon issue after all?

"Come with me, boy."  And the stones push aside to reveal an opening, and Dworkin, in more human form, steps out of it.  He passes Luke, and starts to walk along the corridor behind the visitor, a corridor which slopes downward.

"Tell me then, if you aren't Brand - and I don't believe that you aren't - then who are you?"

Encouraging.  It didn't mean Luke was safe, of course.  Far from it; an Dworkin interested (possibly in him) might be more dangerous than a Dworkin worried and ready to rabbit.  But it was a start; he'd never get anywhere without taking chances, just as he'd never get anywhere if he let the madman leave.

"Very well," Luke stated, watching Dworkin walk past him.  The translocation had been impressive; had Dworkin been behind the wall?  Not likely.  Had his entrance merely taken on that form because he desired it?  Probable.  Luke spared a quick glance through the opening in the stones before following the hunchback, pacing along in his footsteps.

That he could shift reality this close to the pole of calcification...impressive didn't cut it.  Terrifying did.

"At the risk of sounding ridiculously pretentious, I've had a lot of names," he admits.  "But the one I was given by my father is Luke, and I tend to prefer that one." He grinned.  "I understand Brand perhaps had a son named Luke.  A coincidence; perhaps an unlucky one.  For him.  But that's my name, nothing more."

A few more steps as he mused. "I'm the firebringer," Luke finally began.  "The twist in the tale, the grit in the cogs of the great machine.  The questioner, the rebel, the antagonist.  The adversary.  Prince of light and lord of darkness, depending on who you ask.  All of those things pretty much cover the answer.  Most importantly, here and now, I'm one of a small group working to fix this issue."

He shrugged.  "I'm fairly sure you can see something about me, just by looking."

Dworkin stops in his tracks and pivots on one heel to peer at Luke.  "Luke is it?  You have the look of your father about you.  In here... "  One bony finger lifts to tap against Luke's forehead.

"It could be that that I'm seeing.  That's what made me think you're Brand.  Though all those names you give...  Vexing, most vexing.  They make you sound as if you come from the Courts, but both Luke and Brand were born here."

Then he continues walking down corridor, deeper into the heart of the mountain, and the air grows colder.  The crazy old man mutters to himself constantly, obviously locked in an argument of some sort,

Eventually he says, aloud, "Well it is that you work to fix the problem, though, otherwise I'd have to kill you.  Ah... here we are.  Stand just here."

The chamber is a perfect hemisphere, with ice rimed walls and a dangerously slick floor.  Dworkin indicates where Luke should stand, and then crosses to the wall and lays a hand against it, ignoring the chill.  "HURG!" he says, and a pattern of light starts to spread across the wall.  The Pattern, perhaps, or a part of it.  Moving lines of power spreading out from his hand.  "Whatever you do, don't move."

There is something behind Luke.  A presence.  Something that he can feel looming over him, even though he is facing away from it...

"Could be," Luke amicably agrees.  "Though, again, like I said, I'm not Brand's son.  I'm a different Luke.  Don't want you to think I'm deceiving you." It's a little irksome to be compared to his father, even if Dworkin is getting the associations incorrect.

Or is he?

"I'm also not big on the whole dying thing, so I'm glad you're on board with fixing the problem..." The dark man decides not to mention Finndo as part of the problem's cause unless it becomes obvious that Dworkin requires some distraction.

There's some cause for alarm when the Pattern begins to appear on the floor.  Luke frowns, trying to judge if it's going to intersect where he stands.  "Again, not blood of Amber," he calls out to his guide.  "I can't walk that..."

Then comes the presence.

Luke's lips thin as he begins erecting defenses both physical and mental.  Slowly he turns his head to peer over his shoulder.

Dworkin merely chuckles at Luke's objection, then watches as the man turns his head to look behind him.

The lines of the Pattern have flowed together into a knot on the wall, and the knot is expanding, with an opening at its core.  Really.  An opening, where even the wall does not exist any more.  Beyond is a void, where distant stars burn across a black sky streaked with nebulae.

The presence is there, in the void.  But not visible, merely sensed...

The opening, a window on infinity, grows larger.  And suddenly a voice speaks.  Felt in the bones, rather than heard, it comes simultaneously from all of the stars, from each distant galaxy, from the nebulae, and from the very space in between...

•• Who are you •• what do you want of us ••

"Well, boy, you wanted to know where to find the scre'ath."

"Problematic," Luke muttered.  "And yes, I did, didn't I?  Thank you." It could have been sarcastic.  It isn't.  Squaring his shoulders, he turns fully toward the galactic void.

"My name is Luke."  He didn't bother bowing; such a gesture would be both meaningless and a falsification of his position.  There was only one person to whom Luke would truly bow, and it would require one hell of an apology, first.  Starting this discussion off with a lie didn't seem like a good idea.

"I wish to converse."  Wracking his brain, he recalled how Banglen-Yp and her 'sisters' acted when they found one another.  "I am cognizant of more of you.  I have spoken with you before, here - not the you that is there, but the you that has come here.  We are...associated.  In a friendly manner.  And I would like to help bring all of you together again."

Touch and go, this.  One wrong word...he didn't know how this being might react, but if it acted too swiftly, the harm it might do would be immeasurable.

Especially here.

•• Why was part of us taken •• What do you want it for ••

Luke can feel a pressure now, as if a wind blows out of the void.  His hair and clothes do not blow, though, so there is no wind, just the feeling that something pushes against him.  Not hard enough to displace him, just hard enough to let him know that it's there...

•• We can feel the missing part •• It isn't with you • but it is close ••

And then the pressure eases, •• We do not recognise the term, "friendly" •• We are unfamiliar with it • what does it mean ••

Feels like the old bastard.  Back when.

Only without the empathy.

"As to why part of you was taken, I do not have all of that information."  He gestured to himself.  "We are singular, separate beings in this reality.  All is not one.  If another decides to take action, I do not know their reasons unless they communicate them to me."

Well, it seemed that Banglen-Yp and her other pieces were close.  It was a good start.

"Friendly.  Associated with, but not hostile toward.  The opposite - associated, allied, having respect for one another.  And more.  Again, you must understand that this is a universe of singular beings, operating independently.  Sometimes we form associations.  Other times we struggle against one another.  Many different kinds of relationships are possible between entities, beneficial or harmful.  I would have a beneficial relationship with you.  Allow me to prove this.  Your missing piece grows closer - once it rejoins you, you will no doubt understand all it has seen and experienced here, and be capable of judging this for yourself."

Dancing on the razor's edge - one false movement, and he'd get cut.  Luke smiled.  Just like old times.

Out beyond the portal there is movement.  A motion of stars that, in saner universes would take millennia, and would have had to have started years ago.  Seven stars move into a tight cluster, merge together.

And Luke is looking at a duplicate of himself.  There are, of course, discrepancies.  The real Luke isn't, for example, quite large enough to be seen across the distances involved.

Banglen-Luke speaks, his voice somehow carrying across the airless void, •• So you claim a cooperative relationship with the other parts of me •• That is a good start ••

•• You say you wish to converse •• About what ••

Good so far.  And...rather impressive.  Appallingly so, in fact.  Luke risked a glance behind himself to check where Dworkin stood. And if he were up to something.  After that, he tasked part of his senses to keeping track of the old monster.

For once, he had someone else upon who he might hang that label.

"I'd like to talk, first, about you.  And the rest of you, coming here.  Bit of an explanation of what the rest of you agreed upon.  Then you can compare to what it says when it arrives."  He shrugged.  "Might help with seeing that I'm telling the truth.  I'm unsure if you comprehend the idea of falsehood, though, what with living alone and all.  Do you?"

He sucked in a breath.  "There are beings here who name themselves 'Archons'.  They are in need of space.  They are in such need of space to survive that they have decided to take all of the space here - essentially, destroying everything and every other individual in order to take this space for their own kind."

The dark man raised his hands.  "I do not accuse, here.  I merely point out their reasoning and the situation - theirs AND the situation of all other individuals here.  This impacts all."  He sucked in a slow breath, walked in a circle. "The part of you that exists here has noted that there is nothing where you are but itself.  A vastness, empty of individuals.  Only you.  It has offered to take the Archons there.  In so doing, your will provide them with a place in which they can flourish, you will provide the other individuals of this place safety from destruction, and you will provide yourself with something interesting: individual beings OUTSIDE of yourself, that are NOT you, that you might observe.  Or with whom you might interact."

Stepping forward, he moved to the edge of the portal (with senses tuned to, for example, Dworkin shoving him through).  It wasn't without misgivings; even when brother Mike turned his blade against Luke, the dark man had never been so close to the potential of his death.  If this Banglen-Yp turned its ire upon him....

"Am I correct?  Are you the only being in the place before me?  Are you what inhabits this place, are you this place itself?"

•• Falsehood •• Is that like when that other entity that stands with you • but which you say is entirely separate from you • promised a beneficial relationship •• Then tore part of us away from the gestalt • and causing an imbalance in our thoughts ••

•• If that is falsehood • then we understand it •• Though it was not always so • and we should devour the one who taught us this lesson •• Or at least seize a portion of it •• Can you please advise us on which part would cause maximum distress ••

Humour?  The Luke facsimile seems to be trying to smile, though the result is somewhat horrendous.

The proposition, a sanctuary for the Archons is met with a long silence.  A silence in which Luke can all but hear his counterpart thinking across all its myriad forms.  Then...

•• We are the only life here •• All matter and energy is part of us • but we are not alone • for we have the gestalt ••

•• Even so, it could be interesting to have others here • others who a separate from us • and somewhat unpredictable •• We will speak to these Archons • though we agree to nothing at this stage ••

Luke took a deep breath.  "Yes, that would be falsehood.  Speaking in such a way that does not reflect the reality.  Usually deliberately; speaking falsehood due to faulty information or lack of information is usually not malicious in nature."  He glanced over his shoulder again.  Now came the difficult part.

"I would request that nothing be done to the one who stole some of you.  Certainly I understand your wish to do so.  He has enabled me to contact you, here and now, and has thus enabled your regaining of the lost portion of yourself.  And, in so doing, may have assisted in saving this reality from the conflict threatening it.  He may not appear great, but he is, to my understanding, quite mighty, and we stand close a node of power for this reality."

"Conflict with him might prove damaging."

He relaxes as the being states it will at least consider the issue. "Consideration is a first step.  Hopefully your...lost self will be able to provide more information and viewpoints that are germane to your own feelings.  But I have a question: what is the gestalt?  I understand the word, but not in the context that applies to your existence."

•• All that you see before you is the gestalt •• All that we are • a single entity • capable of acting as independent pieces •• Independent pieces • but still connected ••

•• That is our nature •• We are the entirety of this place • and we are the thing that lives within it •• We are space • and time • and matter • and energy ••

There is a pause then, as if the facsimile of Luke is searching for a word.

•• We are Life •• And we are non-Life ••

•• We are the sum total of this Space-Time ••

"And that is the gestalt."  'They' had put a word to 'themselves' - translated, no doubt.  "Clarity is a good thing."  Speaking to an entire universe; not something Luke did every day.  This made twice in his long, long existence, and the other one was newly formed.

It was hard not to feel small, but because he was Luke, he somehow managed.

"I am, obviously, not the same as you, much as all beings of this place.  Again, we are limited - the boundaries of what you observe are most often what we are, though many of us can change our shape and conceal our true nature.  I am one of those, to some extent.  He is another."  Said with a jerk of the thumb over his shoulder toward Dworkin.

He studied the face - his face, only not - for a long moment.  "I expect you never get bored," Luke finally concluded.  It had been a question on his mind for some time, but after seeing the whole of the matter (so to speak), he felt it answered.