KaChi: Artists are Artists, no matter the species - and KaChi is one who proves that. She's a dolphin with the technology to communicate with humans and a style of painting all her own. Her images are made from sonar, in a special medium, and feature the sights of the sea; she's best known for her works on the great ocean liners and the deep sea vents.

Mary Shelley: In her life before she came home, she was best known for her novel Frankenstein. Here, we know her for the trilogy - and the heavenly batches of absinthe she and Percy make up every year. She's one of my best friends.

Percy Bysshe Shelley: Percy's poetry is the closest you can come to divine here at home. It has a grace that I never expected when I first met him - but then, I suppose the best parts of poetry are drawn from experience, and that he has in spades. He's another of my best friends.

Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec: Ah, Henri, my oldest and dearest friend. He's been around since my first memory, taking me for long walks in London and Paris and Venice, showing me the night life and teaching me about color and texture, life and love. I was heartbroken when he passed into the West the year I turned 13. But he came back, like all Artists, and he's only passed that way once since. We still go brothel-crawling together every few months.

Oscar Wilde: Dear, sweet, witty, wise, wonderful Oscar. We had a fling one summer, but it was as doomed as all of Oscar's flirtations. We're still friends - after all, we both knew it wouldn't last, so there were no hard feelings to be had. He shows up at parties and composes fragments of poetry and glorious witticisms for me, and I make him outrageous sketches of our fellow merrymakers.

Bleys: First he was a friend - now he's an Uncle. I hope he doesn't expect me to call him that yet. It's all a little too new. He's still my teacher, though; first he taught me things about art so real you can almost walk into it. Then he told me you could. And now he's showing me how to go to places I used to only daydream about.

Corwin: From what Bleys tells me, it sounds like I might have a good time chatting with this uncle of mine, but I'm going to have to figure out a way to not have him run away first. That was slightly irritating. I'm not accustomed to people fleeing me when all I've done is greet them...

Deirdre: My mother, or so I've been told now. I don't really remember...

Lachlan: Bleys called him "a fine member of Amber's defenses," and I certainly can't argue; a good sense of humor always catches my attention, I have to admit. Of course, this is solely based on perhaps five minutes of company, so I might have to see about that "damage control" he suggested I might need.

Random: The uncle that also happens to be a king. He was pretty friendly and easy-going, which I'm glad of; while I've had training in many things, "dealing with a monarch" wasn't anything my friends and mentors lectured on.

Vanessa: Uncle Corwin's daughter seemed very nice - for the two seconds I was around her. See the part where Uncle Corwin decided he needed to flee from me; I met them together, and he took her along when he left.