GM: Do you Trump to the Estates in the Zone, or contact Loren directly?

Helena: Contact him directly by Trump.

Loren: There is a sense of resistance before you make contact, as if your efforts were being passed through some sort of warding. Loren is seated in a high-backed wood chair in a private chamber deep within the Estates complex, in human form, dressed in simple gray attire instead of his usual house colors, and he's not alone.

"Helena..." intoned as much to inform those with him as to greet you.

Helena: "Father, please pardon me. If I am imposing I will Trump to the Ways and see you when you are free." My mental state may convey some urgency, however.

Loren: "I've arranged the information you seek. You should come to us, Helena." His mind reaches out to yours, poised to pull you through whether you are willing or not.

Helena: Of course, I am willing. I nod in acceptance and hold out my hand to him.

GM: Loren brings you through, and you feel heavy hands on your shoulders from behind, guiding you into the chair opposite him. You don't recognize either of the demon-form gentlemen holding you, but the human-form gentleman behind them wears the pin of the Jesby Reconnaissance Service (think MI6 meets MIB).

Helena: I correctly become quite relaxed so that they hardly need to guide me to the chair -- which doesn't stop my brain from churning a little. That stops right away, as it is almost instantly clear that I can't even begin to guess what they might want. Thus, giving a nod / bow to the JRS man, I sit and await his cue.

Loren: Loren explains, "I had to be certain that I did not violate the Treaty with what I might tell you," his eyes glittering with barely suppressed concern, bordering on fear.

Helena: Though he is obviously worried, what he says relieves me. This is certainly understandable.

JRS: Then the JRS man asks you, "Why do you require information on intelligence gathering activities during the Great War?"

Helena: "Honestly, Sir, if it is an issue of State, I do not _require_ the information. Given my new position in Amber, with the Embassy, it would occasionally make things easier if I were not defending my position in complete ignorance. But I can certainly continue adept as I have been.

JRS: "Perhaps Madame Ambassador should consider what she inquires into more carefully in the future."

Helena: I bow my head in acknowledgement. "I thank my father for taking my concern so seriously, and you for your time in considering this matter. I leave it to your judgement whether anything further should be revealed to me."

JRS: "As we are here, we are prepared to monitor you next level of debriefing. Master Loren, if you would make the approved revelations."

Loren: Your father swallows hard and then begins, speaking very carefully and precisely, pausing when he fears leaving something out... or perhaps saying too much.

"Alma was deployed for... reconnaissance... in the Arden invasion sector, and ended up overdue. Believing her dead, I contacted the Lord General under flag of parley in hopes of retrieving her body... for proper burial. Playing upon his blood relation to her, I secured his cooperation, and he retrieved her from the camp of the Prince General assigned to Arden sector, still alive, but suffering the aftereffects of... interrogation. Her pregnancy was discovered during her... rehabilitation, and your gestation was initiated and successfully concluded."

JRS: The JRS man then looks to you, "Is that sufficient information for you to resume your diplomatic duties, Madame Ambassador? Further information would require a mind probe and mental destruct partitioning."

GM: (MDP is a measure usually limited to the most secret of couriers that results in brain death if the subject is later forcibly psychically interrogated regarding the partitioned information.)

Helena: I nod slowly, taking this in and parsing it with the information I already had. "This is sufficient, thank you, and puts in context claims on the part of the Amber generals that had been difficult to understand. I of course submit to any further requirements of the House or Empire, but my needs are met in this matter."

JRS: JRS: "If we have your word that this is sufficient, we will table this counter-inquiry. If we are obliged to reopen it, the burden of proof on your part will be significantly higher." With nothing further to say, he and his 'assistants' disappear in a flash of sorcerous teleportation.

Loren: Loren visibly slumps a bit in his chair, his hands trembling with relief.

Helena: I get up and go to him and kneel beside him and put my hands over his hand. "I am sorry." I sit there with my head bowed for a minute. Finally I look up and say, "At least they were brief with their business."

Loren: "They are confident in the lingering threat being of more value than anything further they could say." His hands take some time to still, continuing to tremble even as he eases into demon-form.

Helena: Another moment later, I stand and lean back against the desk near him. "And I wish I was bringing better news. After my visit with Mother, it is pretty clear the ruse that I am working in the Black Zone will not stand. We are going to a tea five turnings hence, and in that society nothing so easily checked will stay hidden."

Loren: Loren seems a little surprised that Alma is going out, but the same good news washes that away, bringing the beginnings of a smile to his troubled expression. "Perhaps I have underestimated her again." He meets your eyes with his gaze. "Can you ease her into the truth, and blame me for the deception if she is troubled by what I told her before?" He pauses to rub his forehead. "I realize this may sound like spousal cowardice, but I really think it best, under the circumstances."

Helena: I smile a little, trying to reassure him. "Of course, I will do what I may to make the news easy for her; I believe that it may please her at least as much as it troubles her. That I might make this stride for our house after all that has happened... There is much positive in this, isn't there?"

Loren: "Of course there is. We have much to be proud of, as a family and as a House. I never meant to put your light under a basket...." His hands steady at last, encircling yours in a reassuring grip now. "Your mother and I are very proud of you. It's just... after watching her pace frantically when you were at war... I didn't want her to worry like that any more. It was selfish of me, but I couldn't bear for her to endure any more than she has already suffered for our House. In doing so, I've denied her the joy of your success, and you your right to her utmost pride. Free us all from my cowardice, Helena, and accept a foolish old man's apology while you do so." His eyelids click lightly, and tears run down the weathered crags of his face.

Helena: "You do what you do out of love of us both. You do not ever need to apologize to me." I kiss his cheek.

Loren: And that small gesture is enough for him to reclaim his reserve, although he clings to your hands a bit longer.

Helena: "Now, I must prepare for my outing with Mother. Carriages, dress fittings... you remember the Cormun Helgram dresses?" I smile, remembering her delight at the thought of the whole outing. "She would never interrupt you, and she knows you find many of such events tedious, but I know she would get out more if she had someone's support in going. Perhaps you could get a box at the Fraternity Games. We haven't done that in forever, and you both used to enjoy it.

Loren: "For a time, the noise bothered her, and I did not want to press her into public if it would test her so much. Perhaps I will try again, and see."

Helena: "Anyway, forgive a daughter's meddling. And thank you for what you did today. I understand the seriousness of the matter, and the fears you had to steel yourself against to undertake what you did." I bow to him, and give him another quick peck on the cheek. "I'm off to Hanla's..." I back out, waving.

Loren: There is something in his parting look that warns you to tread carefully, but it does not become words. He raises his hand in silent farewell and manages a smile.

Helena: ... and head for Hanla's by the most direct route, whether that be a Ways passage from our estates, or some combination of place Trump and Ways travel (perhaps there is a Trump to some central secretary for the House?), I go.

GM: The Ways passage is least obtrusive, and fairly direct. Helena has a Trump of the outer reception, facing the central secretary's desk, but that tends to raise a stir, as all such arrivals are announced, vetted, broadcast, etc. - and when all is said and done, the walk takes less time than the formalities of the wait.

Then... there is the passage out and down, along the black tiled steps of the Estates passageways, to the first of three great doors. Through that, you walk along a bridge of sorcery into Chaos proper once more. From commons to common hallways, through Ways and Ways Halls, and back to commons once more, you reach the outer reception of Hanla's personal Ways. Decorated with glittering wet rocks, tiny linked ponds, and sculpted exotic flora, it is just large enough to speak of wealth without being offensive to eye or soul. Hanla's pet demon, Ree (a 4' mottled purple beast bearing a strong resemblance to an angel-faced gargoyle) waves from his/her perch atop the broad stone that doubles as a reception desk and flutters off to fetch its master.

Hanla: Hanla appears in short order, in human form, wearing a high-collared burgundy-and-black paisley robe that trails almost a foot behind her on the floor but somehow never picks up anything from the rocks and plants it brushes over. Her steel-colored hair is careless perfection in a mane framing her face, and her milk-ivory eyes seem welcoming and measuring at the same time. Bowing more deeply than your old station would warrant, "Welcome Helena... or is there some title I should use now? It has been so long...." She is likely politely warning you that she will be fishing for gossip, as is often her wont, but she has proven a trustworthy ear when you were troubled in the past.

Helena: "Thank you, Hanla," I return her bow. "It is Ambassador, now, but the position is very new." I smile, promising further details later. "I was just visiting with Mother and encouraging her to go out with me. She mentioned you had a tea coming, and we wondered if we might both attend."

Hanla: "I've missed you both terribly. Of course you can!" She glides forward, taking one of your hands in hers. Smoother, but with no less stately excitement, "Can you stay a bit, or does your newborn appointment call you away?"

Helena: "I can stay a short while; I do have a dress fitting with Alma fairly shortly, though. She is arranging it, and I'm not sure of the time."

Hanla: "As difficult as it can be to arrange such things on short notice, I won't keep you. You will let me corner you later for all your goings-on, though, won't you?" She smiles.

Helena: "Of course I will!" I smile genuinely in return. "And thank you. I know Mother will enjoy herself, and I'm looking forward to seeing everyone."

Hanla: "It's my pleasure... Ambassador," said like a proud aunt.

Helena: I bow to her correctly and then wave a little playfully as I leave.

Hanla: Her bow is also precise, but her schoolgirl grin at your wave matches your mood.

Helena: I am heading back to the estate the way I came, stopping or heading whereever to arrange transport for me and Mother from her place to Hanla's. When that's done, I go to my personal Ways to rest and await word from Cormun or Mother about the timing of the fitting.

GM: A four-demon sedan chair for two seems most appropriate, given the shortish distance, both your standings, and the occasion; easily arranged, although a bit costly at short notice. You have an hour's rest before a carrier sprite flutters in from Cormun, requiring your presence less than a quarter turn (2-3 hours) hence. The oral note is a bit curt, complaining of what had to be juggled to arrange the fitting, but you think that's just posturing on Cormun's part, to maintain the aura of expense around his 'precious time' and such.

Helena: I grin at his complaints, and tell the sprite to confirm my presence. I believe, timing-wise, I shall have to return to Mother's in an hour so we can chat before Cormun and his assistants arrive.

GM: Helena arrives to find Alma in her dressing room, lightly made up for company, wearing sensible foundation garments and a dressing gown for the fittings. Knowing her daughter (and Hanla) as she does, Alma doesn't even ask after your success, waving you instead toward a bottle of opened sparkling cider and empty flute. A pretty flowered robe matching her satin outerwear hangs carelessly over a chair for you, and some light fruit-and-crackers-type refreshments have been set out.

The party is planned for human-form, with no announcement of colors, although something appropriate for Red-sky into evening would be logical, given the timing. Does Helena have something in mind for herself or her mother, or is it up to the designer? Simone: Heh. Well, it is a tea and not an evening formal, after all. The stuff I found on quick glance was all based on haute couture pants suits or daytime looks. GM: I thought this one was suitably Chaosian, especially in that shade: Simone: That designer had several things in her collection that were variations on layers with transparent / translucent bits. Anyway, something like that would be just fine, I'd guess.

Helena: You mentioned Alma's human form was quite different from Helena's; what does she look like?

GM: Softer and fuller face, slightly broad in the jaws (Helena has more of her father's face); hazel eyes with green flecks; shorter legs, and a proportionally rounder figure... although renderings of Alma in her youth show her with slimmer hips and a much stronger middle. You are visibly mother and daughter, but only to a trained or patient eye.

Helena: I shed my coat and clothes, having also worn appropriate underthings for the fitting, and slip into the the robe. Drink in hand I go and join Mother at her table. "We should do this more than once a year," I say, raising my glass informally to her. "Hanla was delighted that we'll be coming."

Alma: "I will hold you to that proposal, Helena. T'would be a shame to let the account I opened with Cormun's design house go to waste." *clink* "And I am delighted to be going. Thank you so much for this."

Helena: "So, until the fitters get here, I have to tell you about my new position." I let my excitement, and yes, a little fear, show through. "I know Father has been going on to you about my work in the Black Zone, but some weeks ago, I took a break... and ended up being commissioned Trade Ambassador of House Jesby to the Court of Amber."

Alma: Her brows furrow slightly, a hint of confusion and worse playing across her face. "Trade Adviser.... So you... manage the trade shipments leaving our Black Zone holdings?" said as if her mind was forcing the truth into a shape she could bear.

Helena: "I organize, order and plan all our shipments leaving from all our holdings! I coordinate on the ground, interpret the treaty and the trade commission, and do liaison with the trade controllers and the Castle. They want to style me Ambassador, but of course that will require our King's approval." I find, describing it, that I really am quite proud, quite happy and excited, in spite of the Prince General's venom.

Alma: "Liason... with the Castle...?" Her flute falls to the floor, shattering on the warm hardwood.

Helena: "Mother," I say clearly, catching her hands together in mine, and meeting her eyes. "It is my duty and my honor. Do not be distressed. I have many many protections, and the wealth and honor I bring to our House cannot be underestimated. It is what we all have won, by making such peace as we have. It is what our service and sacrifice made possible."

Alma: "There are times when I lie awake, staring up at that Castle, trying to remember that I've never seen it...." A tremble shakes through her, and her eyes literally darken to smoky ebony marbles for a moment before resuming their usual human shades. "To have you in their presence... I don't know that I can pretend not to be distressed, even for your sake. Duty and honor are meager protections among them, and we have already sacrificed so much on the broken altar of Chaos' service...." You sense a strange psychic connection slowly building through your physical contact with Alma, but the mind behind it feels nothing like your mother.

Helena: [Can I use my shapeshifting discipline to maintain myself and avoid too much of this connection, or do I know shapeshifting to be an ineffective defense against such? I hate to break contact with her if I don't have to...

GM: [Under most circumstances, Shapeshifting is a poor defense, but if whatever it is can only build at the rate it's currently moving and is only channeled by touch, you might be able to buy yourself some time by setting your hands to 'autopilot' and detaching your neural connections; buying yourself some additional psychic 'distance' or even possibly breaking the link. At your level of talent, it is painless and quick, and you could reconnect with a moment or two of concentration, since it's not a disruption like a wound would be. With Alma's (Human) Psyche, she likely won't know the difference.]

Helena: I will do that if I don't consider it a danger to her. If there is any danger to her, I will choose something else.

GM: You really can't be sure, since it seems to emanate from her somehow, and yet seems so alien to her being. Based on how you concluded your last post, I'm going to assume that you didn't bother, to be in better position to support her if need be.

Helena: In any case, in the few moments I have...]

"I understand your distress. I lost men and women on that alter, and pride. But there is a place in the world to stand proudly after such loss. There is a place to look eye to eye with that old enemy, and grin in its face, and shake its hand. I have felt this, Mother. I have felt them lessened by my presence, my patience, my honor. I disdain their dishonor, and challenge them to their better selves.

"Mother, I don't pretend this is a safe thing. But it is a necessary thing. Chaos is not broken, if we are what is left of it."

Alma: "Your (old word for 'contributor of seed')... what he did to your sisters.... I couldn't bear it if you..." Odd tears she fought to deny find their way down her cheeks now, glittering like dark, oily pearls. Things begin to grind softly in her frame, like old wounds becoming remembered enough to be real again.

Helena: I put my forehead against hers, and hug her close (if necessary, heedless, briefly of the psychic connection). "Don't let that take you, Mother," I whisper. "I am here, and I love you. I will keep safe. I am here."

Alma: That contact, touching so closely, puts you in peripheral contact with the source of her pain and the psychic presence. An ossified... something, nestled behind her breastbone like a pearl in an oyster, seems to be a repository for old hurts and dark psychic energy, and it is overflowing now.

While Helena is no sorcerer or Chaos surgeon, she is certainly shapeshifter enough to try to reach it, if you're willing to wager some of your strength and risk interfacing with... whatever that thing is to draw it out. If you can keep her calm and feed her enough of your strength, the risk to Alma is minimal, especially compared to what might happen if that strange growth spills all its stored 'darkness' into her unchecked. You can already feel some of Alma's joints weakening, unravelling almost, remembering old tortures.

Helena: I feel foolish, almost. So many doctors have worked with her, I know. But none of them were family, and Father is not the shapeshifter I am though I wish he were with us for his strength of mind to back me up...

I release that brief regret with just that small hiccup, and breathe. "Let me in..." It is a question rather than a demand, but feeling her pain I do not wait for her to answer. I muster all my discipline, and all my strength and control, and hold her whole and well against this thing.

Alma: Alma lets you in - no invites you, as if she had been awaiting you on some level neither of you were conscious of. Your strength is sufficient to hold off the weakness, but you realize that she will not recover so long as the growth remains; and then her body begins to 'offer' it to you, as if it were gift, dowry, bride-price, precious gift, heirloom....

Helena: (I take it this is happening without Alma's conscious participation?)

GM: You have no sense that Alma is aware of this happening. As the 'offering' occurs, she's wrapped up in a painful flashback, with only the lightest flickering sense on her part that you're trying to help her.

The presence within the deposit grabs hold of your mind, brushing aside any defense you might have raised, and then blackness unlike any loss of consciousness you've previously suffered engulfs you.

Helena: In what way unlike any previous times?

GM: Painless. Easy, like wanting sleep after a hard day. It's almost like you willed yourself unconscious, despite the clear presence of 'other' as it happened.

You awaken, uncertain of how much time you might have lost. A moment after your head rises, Alma reanimates, breathing like it was her first fresh air after a long seclusion. She looks at the broken glass on the floor and laughs softly, as if nothing remarkable had happened. "It's a good thing I decided against the wine...."

Helena: I nod, and smile wearily with her.

Alma: "Perhaps after, when we don't have to worry such about keeping our feet." She rises with a confidence and strength Helena cannot recall ever seeing in her before, and begins neatly gathering the bits of shattered crystal into a linen napkin. "While I'm up, would you like something else before Cormun and his entourage gets here?" You feel well and whole, if a bit disconcerted.

Helena: I do feel oddly out of touch, but for now I just say, "More of the juice, please." I kneel beside her. "Here, let me finish cleaning this."

Alma: Alma rises easily, moving to retrieve a towel from the cabinet nearest the bath for your efforts, and then goes to the juice pitcher. "Thank you, Helena," as she pours a fresh glass for each of you. Enough years have fallen from her demeanor for you to be mistaken for sisters (half-sisters, anyway), though she is still clearly the elder. Arguably, it should have always been this way, as she's only a few centuries older than you.

Helena: I finish what I'm doing, finish my new glass of juice, and sit down to watch her a bit. I tilt my head. "Mother, do you feel all right?"

Alma: Lovingly, but with a steeled spine you find slightly awkward getting used to, "I'm still not pleased that you'll be anywhere near the Prince General, but as you survived his first attempt on your life, I suppose I'll have to content myself with worrying." Smiling despite her worried eyes, she acts as if she's heard the entire story of your encounter in Arden from your lips already. "I understand what your honor requires, though, and I won't try too hard to change your mind. I remember having thoughts like those myself before you were born."

Helena: I sigh. "I don't mean to belittle your experience. I wouldn't dare. I know the cost. But that it is asked of me after what was asked of you? I cannot turn that down, or shrink from it. I respect you too much. You know that I do, now, more than words could tell you." I search her face for a sign that this is true, that she understands.

Alma: She looks into your eyes, and you feel the depth of her understanding, mixed with her fervent hope that the cost will not be as high for you. "I know that you understand as well or better than anyone; better than our commanders, better even than your father. When I question you, it will be to guide your commitment, not measure or undermine it. Neither of us were destined for gaggles of children raised in peace, but it is a mother's duty to hope."

Helena: I nod weakly and look down, embarrassed by her and her strength. Finally I shake it off. "After the fitting, perhaps we should contact your doctors. If there has been as much change as it seems, they should be informed."

Alma: "I have more than had my fill of doctors over the years... but if it will make you feel better, I will contact Brother Xylek from the Medicine Shapers Guild and see if he wants to ground me again." She sighs. "I so want to go out...."

Helena: "He wouldn't dare ground you with me there, too, would he? And if you're that worried, we could wait to see him until after the party." I give her a mischievous look.

Alma: "Trust me; he would dare." Her pout ends in a smile. "After. If at all. If I can weather the tea-gossip, I should be fit enough for anything. ...Thank you, Helena."

The dressmakers' arrival is announced by one of Cormun's demons shortly after.