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As the large oaken doors open and Tapestry steps through them, those who follow are granted a sight the likes of which they've never seen before. Light... light and light and light, twinkling off every available surface. The sources appear to be the candles in candelabra ahd chandeliers, reflected and refracted off tiny mirrored tiles. Hundreds of thousands, perhaps millions of them. The only things that absorb light rather than reflect it are the few doors that can be seen, and the dark golden runner, perhaps three
meters wide, that runs down the center. In fact, it's very, very difficult to determine the size of this place due to the mirrors and the light -- it seems... vast. But is it?

There's a single door across from the large double doors through which you entered. It anchors your vision, seems to be about fifteen, sixteen meters away. The carpet-runner stretches to the right of the doors you came through, for what appears to be quite some distance. The other doors... there are four? No five other single doors, irregularly spaced along either wall and yet one more door at the other end of the hall which seems very small to your vision. And, somewhere down there, a glittering catwalk or overpass crosses this grand hall, some distance above the floor. From your current vantage point, you cannot see any way to ascend to the catwalk.

So far, you've seen no other signs of life of any kind here.

Stephen stopped abruptly, slightly gobsmacked by the vista before him. "Huh..." He stared at it for a moment, then turned back to his companions. He shrugged, then vaguely waved toward the room. "Hunh..." the only sound he made was one of confusion.

Dylan stayed in step with the group as he took in the room's design. He pushed out again to detect the presence of any psychic activity in this room they had just entered.

A quiet, screeching whistle escaped Blitz's lips as he admired the room of reflections.

Misa stepped forward into the room to look things over. "Wow," she murmured softly. "Hugh-sensei, can you make out the end of the hallway here?" Kitsune looked up to the catwalk and considered it a moment, wondering if she could leap up to it with a good running start.

"Santa Lucia," Vincenzo gasped under his breath. He took in the inverse disco ball of a room, an illegitimate child of Versailles and the Basilica San Marco, and wondered what it was all for. He padded into the room a few steps, and peered down the long hallway, his eyes naturally drawn to the catwalk, the only thing in the room to distinguish itself from the rest of the fantastic uniformity.

"Large, Magic Girl," replied the reluctant sensei as he closed his eyes to shut out the light and focuses on the radar images he could discern, measuring the room in the radio range, "large."

Hugh struck a still pose, stretching out one hand -- his right --
toward the far end of the hallway, as if feeling for how large, or for something the optics of the room might otherwise obscure. "Tapestry sounds a bit like that Nathan Fillion, do you think?" he added, making small talk, as he otherwise concentrated on his task. He posited no new postulates, hypothesis or theories, for the moment. Perhaps he, too, was in awe of the size.

Kitsune smiled to herself as she listened to Hugh. He didn't answer her question, exactly, but it was answer enough. The room was immense. "I don't think Tapestry-san is quite ready to be a 'Big Damn Hero' just yet, but I did like the show, yes."

"Nine episodes of Lost, fourteen feature films including one that won Best Picture... appearances on all three CSI shows, and all they can do is compare me to Nathan Fillion. You know, he's not really the cowboy he plays in that show... " Stephen muttered to himself. He eyed the catwalk above them all, thinking it would be a better place to get a look at the room... alter the angles so the mirrors weren't distorting everything. "If someone could get up there, they could take a better look around.

"Of course he is not, Tapestry-san," Kitsune soothed. "He is an actor, which is entirely different. I was unaware that you had such a varied career, and I did not mean to slight you or your achievements."

"The sconces," Hugh eventually said, "are approximately set at six meter intervals. Unless parallax is fooling my senses."

"Counting," the scientist suggested, "along either wall will give you a sense of the length of the hall. I suggest we all tally our own count, and check our individual sums. I can clearly make out perhaps thirty five meters of corridor nine meters high by fourteen wide, several doorways, several hundred thousand mirrored tiles, and as you can see, overhead chandeliers like the one we left in the great entrance hall. Which suggests several things."

"Firstly, there are too many candles, simple mental arithmetic
indicates. At a rate of one candle every three seconds, the first lit should be burnt out by the time the last were ignited, by conventional means. There is scant sign of passage by others, in terms of dust or wear on the carpets, if there were lamplighters. Can any of you see anything that disproves this?"

"Second, silver-backed mirrors are not perfect reflectors," the
professor continued. "The mirrors here seem unusually bright, which may indicate that they are prismatic. This is a property of some one-way mirrors, the kind one sees in police dramas, but I doubt it is a significant feature of the complex."

"Third," Hugh added, "this appears to be a complex or manor, with its own purpose, pre-existing and not built to house us or for our needs but probably to meet the needs of someone else before us. It would take too long to plan and execute, if time is linear here, otherwise. It has nothing of the qualities ascribed by theology of Limbo, let me assure you, we are not likely to be dead. We might be duplicates of our original selves, as suggested by the facsimile-like properties discovered in the chandeliers and wall-hangings, but that is an unproven hypothesis with minimal evidence to suggest it."

"In the cathedrals, they get a dozen or so kids to light all the candles at once, sometimes two or three kids to a chandelier, so they will burn through the whole service." the Black Cat commented. "One man would need more than a matchbook and a ladder for this room." He turned to Kitsune and lowered his voice to a more personal volume, adding "Can you believe I was an altar-boy? Even my own mother cannot believe it."

"I could believe that, Neko-san, yes." Kitsune replied warmly, that sense of a shy smile hovered about her.

His -- Hugh's -- knees bent double, and he launched himself up, up, and over, spinning in midair with suddenness and power, his feet touching the ceiling above the group, and sticking him there. Hugh demonstrated that he's strong, and he sticks to things. And his hat and glasses don't fall off.

"We've passed one closed door. Do we have a plan for our survey of this complex, until we encounter someone?" Hugh asked.

Then, Hugh added, "Are you two sure we're talking about the same Nate Fillion? Collegiate wrestler from Canada, in the hundred and eighty four pound category, about fifteen years ago won the Pan Am in his weight?"

"I do not know, Hugh-sensei, although I believe the actor we are discussing is Canadian, and he may be the right age. I don't normally watch live-action television, but one of my friends is a fan, and she sat me down and we watched Firefly from start to finish one weekend, and followed it with Serenity. I rather enjoyed it, although I wouldn't normally indulge in that."

Kitsune paused to consider things. "I am not certain what purpose would be served by counting the scones, however. I'm willing to accept that the hallway is huge, without knowing the details. What interests me more are the doors, both the one we left behind, and these others in the corridor here. Should we check them, do you think?"

"I am not so sure the size or purpose of this room matters, so much as where it goes," the Black Cat said. "My new tailor points out that we might be over-thinking things. Tapestry, mi amico, where do you think we should go next? And out of curiosity, can you tell me how long this rug is?" He was still considering the implications of Tapestry's powers, and he was impressed every time he considered them.

Pulling his attention back from the wondrous sight in front of him, Blitz looked at the others and exclaimed, "Y'know, I used to know someone who had a bathroom like this. Not quite as big, of course. But still as weird".

He glanced at himself in a nearby mirror once more then continued.

"Getting up to the catwalk zhouldn't be a problem to zomeone who can fly", Blitz stated, smiling. "And I can fly asz fast az lightning which izz..." Blitz glanced across at Hugh then back at the catwalk "... pretty fast".

Blitz stepped forward.

"I'll scout ahead. Be back soon...crzxt", Blitz called out as he
launched himself upwards towards the vague centre of the room and in the direction of the catwalk.

"Wait!" Kitsune exclaimed. "We shouldn't separate!" The cry came too late as she watched Blitz move literally like lightning.

She continued in a smaller, shy voice, "I've also watched
Scream and its sequels with my friends."

"You know, you can be overly cautious. The kid knows what he's doing. Heck, if I could have kept up, I'd gladly have gone with him." Grinning said in a soothing tone that only slightly belayed the envy he felt over the lightning hero's speed.

"Well," Kitsune murmured softly, "I'm not so cautious with myself, of course, but not everyone can ignore machine-gun fire. Not that getting shot doesn't hurt, but I try to be careful concerning those around me."

Dylan surveyed the room to gauge the distances from the wall to the first chandelier and between each one. He then tried to use these measurements to assess as much of the dimensions as he could. He looked around at the others near him then at Blitz. Grinning Shadow's words echoed in his head and stirred his restless soul. "Heck, if I could have kept up, I'd gladly have gone with him." Dylan launched himself into the air towards the catwalk. He uttered the words "This hall's bigger then a football field" to Vincenzo and the rest as he flew off to meet Blitz.

Dylan soared at top speed to meet up with Blitz on the catwalk. Anyone who watched the youngster in flight would have been very impressed with the distance he covered. It was obvious that his rate of speed was close to Blitz's burst.

Blitz stood on the carpet in the centre of the catwalk and looked around. He nodded as Nocturne arrived.

"Thiz place izs big..." he commented "... really big. Bigger than a building zhould be".

Blitz turned and looked first at one end of the catwalk and then at the other. He pointed to two doors at either end of the mirrored walkway.

"Two more doorz...ksxt" he noted to Nocturne. "Another five or sxo down there. Thizz place iz like a maze. And with no-one here to greet uzxs".

Then Blitz put his sparking hands to the sides of his mouth forming a makeshift loud hailer. He winked at Nocturne.

"HELLO!" he called out loudly. "ANYBODY HOME?"

Blitz waited a moment then turned back to Nocturne.

Blitz had taken a breath to speak when one of the doors in the hall below opened. Through it floats... a vision, something like an angel from one of the great European cathedrals. A woman, her hair like burnished gold tumbling over her slender shoulders, face like carved porcelain -- flawless, utterly lovely. She was garbed in flowing white gauze that scintillated under the room's reflected light, and there appeared to be a gap of perhaps a half-meter between the hem of her gown and the mirror-tiled floor.

Her head turned with breathless grace. She gazed first at the group of four on the carpet, then with slow glory she turned her deep golden eyes to the two figures on the catwalk. Then her eyes turn upward to spot Hugh hanging from the ceiling. When her face turned back to the group of four, one pale eyebrow arched sardonically.

"I suppose," she said softly, the words in accented English, "there is some reason one of you ifeels it necessary to shout in the family's private quarters?"

The accent, most of you can tell, is French.

"Well... here's where it gets interesting." Tapestry said to the
others around him. His flowing cape collapsed in on itself, surrounding him in pleats so that it looked less like a cloud of fabric and more like a red-and-yellow opera cloak. "So... anyone want to take the lead here?"

"May I be the first to offer apologies for that even though I wasn't one of the yellers? We had no idea this was a home. In fact, I'm afraid that we've only recently came to, with no real idea where we even are. Now that we know more about what's going on, I'm sure we'll try to be more considerate in the future." Grinning punctuated the apology by utilizing another fancy bow during the breath between the apology and the explanation.

The Black Cat put on his best French, and his best manners. "Pardon our intrusion, Madame ... Amber, no?" He started with a small bow. The French tendency to communicate with a string of deniable negatives was one of its many linguistic curiosities, along with the panoply of silent vowels and consonants that distinguished it from his native Italian, where everything that was written was pronounced. "We seem to have been summoned to your palace by some unknown force, and found ourselves in your foyer. We hate to intrude on your hospitality, but, as I'm sure you are aware, our departure presents certain complications, no?" At that, as far as he could tell, it was more or less her turn - to offer, to demand, to supplicate or castigate. They were both guests and intruders, and the protocols were a bit fuzzy under exigent circumstances.

Dylan looked at the woman floating before him. He fought his first reaction and "pushed" out to her with his mind. He detected no psychic signatures from her or on her.

Kitsune said nothing, but the sense of that gentle smile faded from her completely, to be replaced by concentration and a hint of antipathy. Personally, I would think kidnapping and assault would be more than sufficient reason to shout. It's an improvement over the thought of tearing the place down around your ears, preferably by grabbing you your ankles and flailing about. Kitsune kept the thought to herself, but she suspected her companions here of being affected by Lady Galadriel here. Then again, perhaps not.

She glanced over to the Black Cat for a moment, wondering what he said, but she chose not to interfere.

The woman held up one slim hand, as if that pale flesh alone were enough to stem the tide of words flowing toward her. She then looked up at Hugh, and over at Nocturne and Blitz on the catwalk.

Hugh blinked, and turned his attention toward the resident whose home he was walking on the ceiling of. Upon. On. Erm.

The inverted scientist hesitated as if looking for a suave way to get down and make it not look awkward, then brazened it out and ambled toward the gathering along the peak of the vaulted ceiling. The peak of Hugh's cap turned from the woman to the Black Cat and back, trying to follow the nuance. The Italian playboy seems to know this French 'Amber'? Intriguing, the Bostonian's expression reads. He hangs back a bit, curious about it all.

This is most inconvenient," she went on, annoyance passing over her face like clouds across the sun. "M'sieur, I must insist you stop treading upon my ceiling. Do come down at once. And," she went on, raising her voice briefly so as to be heard by Blitz and Nocturne, "if you two gentlemen would be so good as to join us here, it would make our conversation somewhat less odious, I'm sure."

Dylan descended and came to rest behind Kitsune and Black Cat.

For a second, Blitz watched as Nocturne floated swiftly back towards the others. From up on the catwalk, it was sort of difficult to see the others and the angelic woman who had called out to them. They were far away and yet looked closer than the distance would indicate.

Smiling, glad that his call had been answered, Blitz zapped off from the catwalk. He flew the football field length of the room and landed next to Nocturne.

"So, zomeone ixz here in thiz place after all", commented Blitz
studying the woman with interest. He glanced at the others then back at the woman. "Erm...crsx...where are we then?" he chatted, smiling.

Hugh coughed slightly, looking discomfitted and a bit embarrassed. "Ahem. Er. Sorry. Of course. M'apologies, Ma'am." he mumbled, and then dropped, flipping in midair as gracefully as a cinderblock, to the floor below.

"Er. Lovely, uh, chandeliers," the blushing professor said, trying to recover a little dignity, transparently.

Upon seeing Blitz (and to a lesser extent, Hugh's fashion crime), the woman clutched an amulet at her chest and floated a bit backward, though her facial expression did not otherwise change. "Yes... the Austrians, they do lovely work. M'sieur," she went on, addressing Black Cat, doing something of a double-take. Her eyes lingered on his face as she spoke. "The shout was in English, so unless the rest of your company also speaks God's own tongue, courtesy would insist we speak in a language common to all. I would, however," she added with that flirtatious lilt which is the birthright of all Frenchwomen, "be quite pleased to converse with you in French later. Privately." Her eyes flickered briefly over the rest of the
group. "Perhaps when you are not otherwise... occupied."

If not limbo, certainly not heaven, the Black Cat thought. He smiled his winning-est "I just ate the canary" smile, let his eyes assume the heavy lidded sensuality to which they so easily shifted, and permitted himself the bilingual innuendo of "Mais oiu." He trusted this woman no further than he could throw her, but it might be fun to try just the same. There were too many questions, too many unknowns, to even know what to ask her, or what answer to believe. Blitz had the thrust of it, but a little prompting might help, a tipping of a card or two. He started, as always, with his hands, gesturing at the room around him and the hall way behind. "Your manor is an historian's marvel. The chandeliers, the curtains, the tapestries, even the mirrors in this room, must all come from different centuries, yet they are all perfectly preserved. I'm not sure if magic or masterful curator-ship would be a greater marvel. If I may ask, how can we be so fortunate to be here, and where, if you will forgive my impertinence, are we?" A sickening thought occurred to him as he recalled a production of Brigadoon he'd attended a few summers earlier.

She smiled at them, but kept glancing at Blitz as if she expected him to catch the room on fire around them. "You are in my family's ancestral home in the land of Averoigne. This is the Chateau d'Amberville. You said you were summoned here? Was it a royal summons, by chance? May I see the document?"

Kitsune remained quiet, but inwardly she seethed. She had no reason she could point to and justify her growing dislike of this woman, although her flirtation with Neko-san gnawed on her nerves. The name of the land was not one she knew, although she would admit her knowledge of French geography was just as sparse as the stereotypical American high school student.

The mention of the document heightened her suspicions, even though she had to admit nothing the woman said could be taken wrongly. Floating women should not be stupid, and the way she held that amulet worried her. She decided to give room to Neko-san to negotiate, while she sized up distances and considered how a flying tackle would work
on this opponent.

It was Vincenzo's policy to never confront a person's delusions, particularly if that person floated. "We were summoned by fate, or destiny, or the Lord, madame, but not by any earthly crown. The manifest necessity of our presence here was made known to us by virtue of our unexpected, and unexplainable, arrival. We are in France, no?" He was struggling to remain warm to this woman, who was a little unsettling in spite of being easy on the eyes. Perhaps it was the floating, or the way she thought there was a king.

Additionally, he could sense Kitsune's silence, and he wasn't sure whether the woman was shy, wary, or spiteful. In any event, he didn't relish exposing himself to Kitsune as fraud and a seducer, which by now she would certainly either start to understand or she would think he was mad. Either way, it was no way to impress a girl, even a faceless girl in plate armor. A lifetime of deceit and a lifestyle that included a secret identity made the Black cat an unfortunately adept liar, a fact that shamed him as much as it benefited him. For that matter, he worried that the rest of his newfound cohort must have thought he was either mad, or in cahoots, or generally untrustworthy. When one sees a man lie to someone else, one knows he can do as well to one's self.

Hugh's jaw dropped, slightly, in a moment of apparent realization, at the words 'summons' and 'document'.

The Bostonian's lips silently twisted into the start of a mild expletive, which his self-control deleted before it fully formed. He glanced sidelong at the mirrors. The hundreds of thousands of mirrors and their reflections of reflections of images of images and shadows of shadows.

"It was verbal. At least mine was. I suspect all of ours were." The scientist scanned the others' faces, searching for any glimmer of similar experience with the cell phone call. "An older man. He may have been distracted."

He then looked at the French woman. "I would say we are imperfect people in an ideal place," he concluded, his voice faint, and his awe of the guess he has made showing on his face. Softly, as if he were choosing his words with every measure of precision he could, like handling eggshells with kid gloves. "We should conduct ourselves with all possible care."

She laughed warmly, releasing her amulet (a silver crucifix, the body carved in exquisite detail from a chunk of deep red-gold amber) to touch Hugh's face lightly, just stroking his cheek with her fingertips. It was like the kiss of angel's wings.

The Bostonian blushed a bit, nervously, at the touch. "Ma'am is too kind," he said, unable to not react warmly to the warmth, though he has other things on his ever-calculating mind. Surmises. Hypotheses. Postulates.

"Ah, cher," she said, broadening her gaze to take in the entire group, "perfection must wait on God and His grand designs. I am Isobelle d'Amberville, known as `Sainte Isobel' to the folk of Averoigne. I must tell you, of course, that all summons to this place would arrive at your place of residence bound in a scroll, vellum, intricate calligraphy, artistic illumination about the edges. The herald, identified by our device on his tunic, would have awaited your response before departing. So it is quite impossible that you were summoned by any living member of my family... unless..."

A thought occurs and it lights up her face, turning pure beauty into luminous perfection. "You were invited to Henri and Catherine's coronation, non?" She started laughing at that, and laughed some more. It was beginning to sound just a wee-bit hysterical when--

"Whoa... hold on just a second... did she say Chateau d'Amberville? Freaking Castle Amber? Like in the novels? Whassisname... Clark Ashton Smith stories?" Stephen was dumbfounded. He'd read those stories when he was a kid, and had enjoyed them. But there was no way they were actually in Castle Amber, because it was fiction. And because that would mean... "Cthulhu stories... that sort of thing."

He looked to the laughing woman again and swallowed, hard. "If this is for real, we are so screwed."

Maybe it was the woman's laughter, or perhaps it was something else entirely, but the tension of Kitsune bled away to a fraction of its former strength. A story, then? Well, that should be all right. I can handle being in a story, Kitsune thought to herself. Of course this is not going to be a pleasant story, but at least if we encounter a lascivious eldritch horror, I'm not wearing sera-fuku. At least I hope that remains the
case.

Her shy smile seemed to illuminate her words as she replied to
Tapestry's statement, "Now, I suppose we are in a horror story, or perhaps something deeper?" She spoke softly, as if to herself, but those in their group could hear her.

The woman laughed even harder at Tapestry's words, tears sparkling in her eyes an on her cheeks. "Ze coronation!" She caroled, her accent becoming much more pronounced. "Ze coronation! Oh I must tell my brozzair, Reeshard!"

Nocturne stepped up to Black Cat, eyes transfixed on the woman's fit of laughter. "Excuse me. I...I can send my thoughts and talk to you that way. I know it can be very useful, but won't do it unless I have your permission." He paused for a moment before he continued. "I promise I will only to it if I have your permission and won't go deeper then you will let me."

"Yes, absolutely - excellent question," the Black Cat replied after a briefly quizzical look. "My young friend was wondering ..." he began, looking for a quick lie to cover the strange interruption, but he stopped, perplexed by the woman's sudden mania. She seemed to be paying attention to something more important and internal, and not to her guests. Things that were recently mysterious were spiraling their way past perplexing and heading quickly for nonsensical. He needed to confer with his associates, and quickly. He thought in Nocturne's direction, and hoped his message got through. {Bring in Hugh, he'll forgive the interruption. We all need to be in, but there's too much going on right now to risk upsetting everybody.} He kept his eyes on the lady of the manor, watching politely while she laughed at what was a very inside joke.

Dylan had opened his mind to Black Cat's as soon as the man had said yes. Dylan felt the connection as he heard the man's voice. {Not so loud,} he sent back, and Vincenzo could sense the smile behind the thought.

{I was told never to do this to a friend without their permission.} Anna's scathing and scolding words had never left him after that first time. {Are you sure about me intruding into Hugh's mind, Black Cat?}

{If this is not an emergency, then what will be?} The Black Cat was relieved by the young psychic's ethics, but they were a hindrance at the moment. It was a weakness of his personality that ethics all too often seemed a hindrance at any given moment.

"We are certainly to attend this event," 'Hugh' answered to the woman's guess about the coronation. "And we should be glad to hear of any news, after we make more proper introductions. Please, call me Aodh."

Looking down at himself, and around at the others, Hu--Aodh explained, "Some of us are still in our travel clothes, unready yet for this occasion, and ought perhaps ask for a place and some time to," he looked directly toward Tapestry, "change?"

"What are you talking about?" Stephen said through his teeth, trying to keep as quiet as possible and still be heard. His cluelesness was obvious.

Hu-Aodh smiled ingratiatingly toward Stephen, stepping back a little from Isobel to allow the others to introduce themselves in turn. In hushed tones, to Tapestry, the Bostonian answered after a moment "It's all a matter of manners, really. We've had a long trek, to past Picardy from before Dixon Hill. You remember Dixon Hill? Manners are important. We've arrived in time for the coronation, and I certainly can't attend dressed like this. The lady d'Amberville has been very gracious with her hospitality, which we can all be grateful for, I believe. News about current goings on, and a chance to refresh and prepare ourselves together, those would be just what we need."

Dylan kept the psychic link to Black Cat and pushed out to link with Hugh. The young psychic hoped he could connect them, but he was also concerned about alarming Hugh. {Hugh, this is Nocturne) he sounded in Hugh's mind. (Don't be alarmed. I am using my mind to speak with you and Black Cat so she can't hear us.} Nocturne hoped that Hugh would be able to maintain composure with the mental intrusion.

Blitz felt a little uncomfortable about the way the woman kept looking at him. Like he was dangerous or something. And the others just kept going on about a coronation and getting changed and other stuff that made no sense. Especially about being summoned here. It was all very confusing.

So he decided to interrupt.

"I don't want to go to any coronation and I haven't a clue where Castle Amber izz" he explained. "This woman is obviously some zort of superhuman - zhe floatxzs! She, or zomeone with her, probably teleported uzz here. Why are you all acting like thizz is all normal?"

"Because for some of us, Blitz-san, this is normal?" Kitsune sighed deeply, but her eyes never left the Lady d'Amberville. "I will admit to not having this particular occurance happen to me before, but I have had the most alarming events crop up in my life, and I've gotten rather used to it." Or weary of it, her tone implied, but she was still game to keep on swinging.

Kitsune gracefully curtsied before the Lady d'Amberville as if she had practiced her whole life. Kitsune addressed the Lady with deep respect, as one should address anyone of higher station. "Forgive us, d'Amberville-sama, but we are but recently arrived and very confused as to the nature of things here. We have apparently been brought here without our knowledge or permission, and my companions are all quite disconcerted about this. They are trying to cope, but I'm sure you could see how that would be frightening even to the
hardiest soul."

Kitsune maintained her position of supplication as she spoke, projecting the attitude of a humble girl requesting the favor of a powerful lady. It wasn't a lie, not really, but it didn't tell all of the truth. It didn't call attention to the fact that Kitsune stood there, muscles coiled and ready to strike if needs arose. But with the blundering confusion and attempts to bluster becoming more and more transparent, Kitsune sought to clear the air and to see what that would bring them. This woman may be an enemy, she reflected, or she might be an innocent bystander. But it was obvious that if she were the former, they had no chance of deceiving her, not with the way they were acting. Best to cut to the chase, Kitsune believed.

"I must apologize to you and your family, d'Amberville-sama, but I have not heard of your ancestral home and lands before. My people are somewhat insular and provincial, though, and as such we are not well-schooled in the knowledge of other places, even those of renown." Kitsune managed to shrug apologetically from her curtsey. "Would you please tell us of your home, so that we may understand?"

Unfortunately, the lovely woman did not seem to be able to stop laughing. She was doubled over by the time Kitsune had finished her question, and seemed to be lurching about, from side to side, unable to control herself in the air. What's more, she looked at Kitsune, right at her, and the young Japanese woman thought, perhaps, that the woman who'd introduced herself as Sainte Isobel was wordlessly begging for her help through her manic laughter.

{Excellent. I'd hoped that was what you meant when you said psychic. And you're quick on the uptake, too. Very good. Black Cat is clever.} Hugh thought back toward Nocturne, as if he'd encountered psychic phenomena before this.

{We should assume our thoughts may be heard here. Not important. I believe we're in an Ideal Space. Which means metaphysics applies. Black Cat said he's Catholic, which means he'll understand this part better than I do. It's important for us to be virtuous and to avoid mistakes, if this is what I suspect it may be. He'll have to give us guidance on that. Everything we do here may reflect into our own world, emphasized and enlarged and made more real. We should avoid conflict, be calm, and try to be positive.} Hugh thought very quickly, and a lot.

{We ought to speak truthfully when we speak, and so on. It's like the Butterfly Effect. One word here could multiply through the reflections to a storm in our own world, and in others. Possibly. It's not especially my field of expertise. Can you tell the others, Nocturne, please? Our conduct matters. Also, I think we were summoned here, I suspect I have a general idea of by whom and probably of why, and it is important we attend this coronation. But we need more information. That Kitsune... she's one smart cookie. She seems to have intuited this all, too.} The scientists' mind raced, trying to project, communicate, urgently, while the others spoke and made their introductions.

{I haven't detected the use of any other psychic abilities here other then my own,} Dylan sent to both Hugh and Black Cat. {Black Cat suggested I not intrude on the others thoughts until we have a moment to warn them that I can do this. It can be more then a little disconcerting for some to have a strange voice sound in their heads. I also don't know what their reaction would be when they realized I could read their thoughts. Black Cat trusted your ability to handle this even though you weren't prepped.}

"Wait... wait", Blitz blurted out throwing his arms wide. "Look, I don't know about these otherzz...crsxt... but I wazn't summoned here. I wazz on my way to a house in Aspen, Colorado, to meet Rod Bellar. He'z the leader of AEGIS. Suddenly someone or zomething tranzzported me here, against my will. I want to get back. To Azpen and to the meeting. Before I misz it".

Blitz looked at the others, imploringly.

"Isobel?" The voice came from the darkened room behind the now-hysterical woman, a deep male voice that was plainly concerned. "Isobel! Vas ist--?"

A figure stepped into the lighted doorway, deep and rounded amber eyes swept the group briefly as he took Isobel's frail, convulsing figure into his arms -- revealing a round, clear disk that disappeared moments after Isobel's feet were removed from it. He was easily 7 feet tall, with a generous mane of hair. If someone had mixed honey and caramel and turned it into a hair color, that would have been it precisely. His face... was handsome, yes... but bore the marks of some surgical tampering (?) that rendered it exotic. His forehead was high and broad. The pupils in those eyes were slit like a cat's, very narrow there in the bright hall. His nose and mouth were set forward, vaguely muzzle-like, and a fine downy beard, neatly trimmed, covered his jaw.

Over his left shoulder, obviously scabbarded, was an ornate sword hilt. He did not otherwise appear to be armed (though the fingernails on those large, strong hands might more appropriately have been described as talons). He cradled Sainte Isobel in his left arm and looked at the group before him with no little suspicion.

"Who are you, and vhat are you doink here?" His voice deep, mellifluous -- in English, with a slight German accent. "You!" He nodded at Blitz. "You ver sayink?"

"Well, I waz just..." began Blitz, looking at the powerful lion-like man and at his sword in particular. However, before he could continue, Tapestry spoke up.

"Great... first we have the Lady in White from Ghost Story, and now we have Colonel von Sherbach from Stalag 17. What's next? Dirty Harry?" Stephen was completely out of his element. This was so very much not what he had signed on for, this romp through some Renaissance castle talking to people with ridiculous accents. "Could someone please tell me where we are and how the hell we got here? And more importantly, how the hell do we get back?"

Blitz nodded. "Yep, pretty much what he said...crxst" agreed Blitz. Then he added, "We were on our way to an important meeting and we really need to get back to Azpen". His voice trailed off as he began to rub his head in thought, looking around at the room, then at Richard and Isobel.

"We are working on it, Tapesty-san, we are working on it," Kitsune soothed. "I would thank you if you would please take a deep breath and compose yourself, please. I do understand how stressful this situation is for all of us, but we cannot afford to give into our fears and our righteous rage." At least not until we've identified the appropriate target, she thought to herself.

Kitsune turned to face the huge, bestial man, and returned to that low curtsey she demonstrated for the Lady Isobel. "Tono," she began in tones of deep respect, "I am Kitsune, and my companions and I have a problem. While we were traveling to another location, we instead found ourselves here, with no clue as to who or what brought us here, nor why. My companions and I are very concerned about this, and so we would like to discover why we are here, and how we can return."

Kitsune nodded to the Lady Isobel, "I had attempted to ask this of d'Amberville-sama, but she apparently collapsed as you found her before she could reply. On my word, I have done nothing to her," Although I was considering it... "nor would I wish to cause harm to any innocent. My companions and I merely wish to return. Tono, would you please help us in this, and tell us where we are, so that we may discover the answers we need?"

{Richard.. Richard the Lionheart, or Richard Nixon? He'll have to be a mix of all Richards in some way, right up to Dick Cheney,} thought Hu--Aodh.

{If they're native to this Space ..complex mathematical computations.. and they give all indications ..more complex mathematics.. that they are, then they are Idealized.. calculus.. In which case, he and she are probably.. statistical expressions of variance and Game Theoretical constructs.. far more powerful ..exponential growth curve.. than anything any of us have ever encountered or imagined, in their own ways.. fifth order differential equations.. I'm guessing from her reactions that Isobel believes we're some sort of troupe of entertainers meant for the coronation, or some such. Notice how quickly she dismissed our conflicting information.. applied Quantum Mechanical derivations.. An Ideal ..M-Theory representation.. wouldn't have much need to cope with mistakes like that, natively..Nonparametrically Complete Paradigm. Her utterances will tend to be more nearly perfect ..Mathematical Linguistics and Predicate Logic.. in their way than ours. She couldn't help but specify 'living family member'.. Algebraic Matrix Arithmetic.. Which means we were ..Probabilistic Model.. summoned by someone Isobel believes to be dead, or who in this level of the Ideal is dead.. And she's unaware of this, or that person's ..?God-figure? !insufficient data!.. agenda. But in such a ..Topological Formulation.. Space, dead doesn't mean the same as in our own Space.} Hugh stood back, allowing the others to speak until he was directly addressed, his complex and convoluted thoughts running amok through his link with poor Nocturne.

Oblivious to the hidden communications between the others, Blitz looked at the man called Richard. The confusion on Blitz's face lessened somewhat as he came to a realization.

"Aha!" he triumphed, smiling. He pointed a sparking finger at Richard the Lionheart but faced the rest of his 'team'. "I'm guezzing thiz Lionman and Saint Ixszobel are part of a supervillain group, perhapzz with some Works of Fiction theme. They've kidnapped uz in order to destroy AEGIS' new superhero team before it'zxz even started..crzt. They've put uz in this fiendizz death trap, to kill uz all, leaving America defenselezzxz. Then theze crazy Europeanz can attack!"

"Can't say I've heard of any European supervillain teamz operating in the US though", muttered Blitz scratching his crackling chin. "Although Lionman could be one of the Menagerie. And thiz place isn't like your usual death trap dungeon. There'zz no spinning bladez, or noxious gas, or anything. Perhapz...", he added in a much lower tone, "...I shouldn't have put the detailz of Rod's meeting in my blog".

Blitz turned to glare at Richard, his shoulders squared. “Look, just anzwer Tapestry’s and Kitsune’s queztionz, okay?” Sadly, the smile on Blitz’s face ruined his tough guy image.

The Black Cat was watching everything, and not talking anymore, and not smiling anymore. His posture adjusted, getting his hands ready to block, draw a weapon, or throw a punch. He'd learned to do this discretely, and he did it that way now. His thoughts were an increasingly obscene string of Italian colloquialisms, as his eyes darted from Blitz to Tapestry to to Kitsune to the leonine gentleman who had most recently added himself to the conversation.

{Curious. ..Probabilistic Model.. While we were curious, awed, exploring, reasoning and filled with wonder, Isobel appeared, like a.. a.. what's the term? Personification. Metaphysics is not my field. And as Blitz and Tapestry's belicosity, confusion and anger came out.. ..Alarming Mathematical Simulation.. Richard.} thought the Bostonian, silently.

Aodh continued to pour ideas freely, no longer realizing the link might still exist with Nocturne and the Black Cat. {Fascinating. That platform the laughing woman floated on.. Oh, that weapon.. They're of material native to this place. ..Mechanical Model.. If only I could get a chance to study them under laboratory conditions ..Uninterpretable.. Of course. ..X-ray Crystalographic Parameterization.. The people, being organic, aren't as Idealized as the things. They'll be using things to leverage their abilities. What you see are not things, they are Ideas. This Space is not ruled by quarks and superstrings, atoms and subatomic forces. How do I reconstruct all the work from Newton ..Admiring Calculus ritual of Tribute to the Father of Modern Science.. through Einstein ..Abstracted Mathematical Concepts of Worshipful Regard to the Master of Physics.. on the laws of this place in the time we have? Those documents, the invitations.. always written? Why? Ah. Of course. The materials of this place leverage its physicsal laws.. Oh. No. Danger Will Robinson!}

"Please. Excuse me." Aodh spoke. "Blitz. Tapestry," the scientist's tone was calmly disciplined, there was a transparent effort to smile ingratiatingly, covering the concern that he obviously felt. His hands were low by his side, palms turned forward, fingers open, placatingly. "We are guests in the home of these nice people. They had nothing to do with the issues you are worrying about. Can we calmly put aside our own issues for a few moments, to first introduce ourselves courteously and assure them by our manners that we are not here to disrupt their lives, and we are friends? I would really appreciate that. Your questions and concerns are understandable, and we can address them later."

Blitz looked across at Hugh.

"Actually, we’re not guestz in thizz… house" Blitz clarified. He was not angry as such, more irritated at being somewhere where he shouldn’t be. And eager to get some answers from the inhabitants of Castle Amber. "We weren’t invited and they appear not to know who we are. We were abducted by these supervillainz, remember? I juzt want them to answer our questionxst. And soon. Please".

Blitz looked across at Richard but seemed to be still speaking to Hugh. The sparks crackling about his form seemed to calm down a little, although he was still somewhat wary. "If they help uz out, then thatz fine. But, y’know, right now I don’t know what theze people have in mind for uz?".

Blitz stepped back, keeping his eyes on his surroundings, ready to act if necessary, but letting the others take the lead. For now.

Dylan's mind was awash with the empirical onslaught of theories Hugh had projected. He was fairly certain that Black Cat had not been subjected to these ramblings as the young psychic had not forwarded the thoughts. He struggled to maintain control over his own clarity of thought due to the floodgates Hugh had unleashed. Dylan had never experienced this level of activity before, but he had to get control over it.

{Hugh}, he sent back. {Please...control your thoughts here.}

{Black Cat}, he sent to Vincenzo. {We have to get everyone calmed down some. This is getting too tense. We need calmer minds to prevail. I am going to link to everyone else shortly but am concerned about how they will react.}

{Do it. It can't get worse than this without erupting into needless violence,} the Black Cat responded quickly. {You said earlier that you detected no other presences than we seven. How about now?} The Cat was considering whether anything that he was seeing was what it appeared to be. The woman, the man, might be something other than they appeared. They might be nothing at all. Everything deserved scrutiny.

Dylan steeled himself for a second before opening his mind up to the rest of group that had arrived in this C.S. Lewis novel. Nocturne used his Mental Awareness on the newcomer as well to see if anything had changed in this room regarding psychic activity.

To his surprise, Dylan did "see" some kind of mental energy at work -- not around the newcomer so much as around the entire group of people standing in the hallway. Thinking about it a little more, he could sense that the lot of them were being watched though some kind of clairvoyance. What's more, they were being watched by several someones!

{Here goes}, he sent to Hugh and Black Cat before he started the pocess of connecting to the rest. Dylan sent forth his mind like gentle touch on Blitz's mental shoulder.

{Blitz, don't freak out. Please stay calm. This is Nocturne. I would have preferred to warn you ahead of time, but we no longer have the luxury. I am using a Mind Link so we can talk without being heard. I will do my best to channel everyone but I need you to keep your thoughts succinct and controlled so I can send them to others.}

Blitz physically jumped and looked up into the air, drawing Richard's startled, suspicious glance. "Wha...?" he started and then glanced across at Nocturne.

There was a stream of static and then Blitz replied.

{...cxxxrrzzzt....how? erm i mean hi. okay, nocturne, i'll stay calm...}

Blitz nodded slighty towards Nocturne and then looked back at Richard.

Dylan then repeated this process with Kitsune, Tapestry, then Grinning Shadow.

{Yes,} Kitsune acknowledged. Her attention remained on the man with Isobel.

Once Dylan had linked his mind with each of the others he sent them each, one by one, the very same message.{We are being watched. There is more than one person scrying on us. I can't tell if they are using some device or if it is a shared power, but it is a form of clairvoyance.}

{Ah? Interesting, very interesting. Thank you very much, Nocturne-san,} Kitsune thought to the link. {We have an audience, and I do believe I'm figuring out the reasons, perhaps. Unless it is just my Author...} She considered that a moment, {No, you said that there was more than one person, and they were watching all of us, right? Audiences imply performances, or games...}

{Do you mean like Harry Hamlin in Clash of the Titans, or Marc Singer in Beastmaster? I mean, is there an eye somewhere we can poke?} Tapestry was more concerned with leaving than with poking any eyes anywhere, but movies were his frame of reference, his way of keeping his cool in a world that made no sense to him.

{We are all being watched, and I don't know by what} he sent back.

The man called Richard had stood there with Isobel in his arms Her laughter had turned to sobs and she was now crying bitterly against his shoulder. He'd listened to the conversation, golden eyes resting on each person as they spoke. A moment of silence descended and he stepped into it without fear.

"Very well then. I think I see the problem. There isn't much time, but come into my rooms. I'll tell you what I know and we can at least have a bit of privacy there." Again, calmly, without fear, he turned his back and stepped through the door into the room behind him.