"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. +