Fathers' Day

Immediately after leaving Corwin's study Vere climbs to a lonely tower room with a view of the city. Sitting on the window sill he stares out over Paris for a few minutes, then pulls the trump out of his pouch. He holds it before him, looking silently at the image of his father in the prime of health for a few seconds. Then he closes his eyes, breathes deeply, and opens them once more and stares deeply into the card, feeling for his father's presence.

After a time, Vere sees Gerard. He is sitting in his chair in the gardens, enjoying the fine weather of the afternoon. He is conscious of the intrusion, and after a moment says "Who?"

[Vere's response, presumably identifying himself]

"Ah, Vere. Corwin said ye'd come through well, but I'm glad ye had time to speak with me yuirself. How fare ye?"

"Very well, Father. Walking the Pattern was most interesting. How fares Amber, and the family there?"

"Well enow, but not too well," says Gerard. "Random hasn't returned yet, and we've heard naught from him or Martin. Your sister has left into Shadow to look for help for my legs. And there's been a to-do with the Knights. But tell me about this Pattern of Corwin's--he said you walked it, but was no more specific than that. How did it go for ye?"

"It was quite..." Vere pauses, trying to decide upon the right word, "...quite revelatory. A journey inward. Exhausting, yet spiritually very refreshing. I am more glad than words can say that I have walked upon it."

"And I'm gladder than words can say that ye survived, son." Gerard grins hugely, and for a moment, it's as if he's larger than life again, the way he was when Vere was a boy.

"So what are your plans now that you've walked it?"

"I had me a thought," Vere answers, unconsciously slipping into the country accents of the happier moments of his childhood, "And I would like to hear your views upon it. I wish to raise troops to lead to the Isles, as we discussed ere I came to Paris, and yet I feel not that I am ready to seek them in shadow. And the men of Amber, for all their proven bravery, I hesitate to ask. For I would want men who will serve and stay, who will fight to earn a place of honour in a new homeland, and the men of Amber are too far from the ways of the Isles to easily settle there. As well, it comes to me that the Isles have been too long isolated, and I would have them begin to trade with other realms. Shadowpaths I would see, and partners in trade, so that new thoughts may come to the Isles, and the old dark ways find themselves swept away by the light of progress, and all that is best in the Isles may spread out from thence to other realms and worlds. But Amber is so different from the Isles, as too is Corwin's Paris, and I cannot see The Lady readily agreeing to commerce with either of these realms, at least not yet. And thus, a thought, that I seek my troops, and a future ally for the Isles, in Rebma."

Gerard nods. "Methinks you've got a clever idea there. I can't say fer sure what yer ma will do, but she'll take better to Rebman men than to Amber men, or the sort of fellow Corwin is likely to want in Paris. Did ye see the little fellows he brought to the battle of Kolvir? Not the sort that yer ma would let settle in the Isles."

He frowns a little. "I'm not sure what boons Queen Moire will ask of ye in return. At least I don't have to tell ye to stay far from their women."

Vere laughs softly and lightly strokes the streaks of color in his hair. "Aye," he says, "and I even have an excuse they'll accept. As to the queen, indeed, I know monarchs well enou to know she'll want something for this. Just as mother would, were the situation reversed. I cannot make promises for the Lady, of course, and I think that Queen Moire will accept that a son cannot bind his mother by his promises. We shall see what she requires, and I shall decide whether it is worth it." He pauses slightly before adding. "A new addition to the family has been brought to light as well, father. Apparently unknown to King Corwin, the queen of Rebma had a daughter by him."

Gerard purses his lips and shakes his head, as if to say, _what else do we expect of Corwin?_

"The princess, Celina by name, was raised unaware of her true heritage, and discovered it only through a letter sent to Corwin by Moire, along with said daughter as part of an embassy." Vere shrugs slightly, "I am certain King Corwin would prefer to keep this relatively quiet for now, and reveal it to members of the family when and as he chooses. As for me, I have spoken with the princess and quite like her. She has made some suggestions to me on how to present my case to Queen Moire."

"I'm glad she's well disposed to ye, son. She's a princess of Rebma and that might be a help in your quest, whether or no Corwin makes her his heir. You'd think he and Random would have learned something from the squabbles Dad's indecisiveness left us with, but neither of them has bothered to name an heir though both have sons in plain sight. I can understand with Merlin, perhaps, since he's an unknown quantity, but it's almost a slight to Martin, under the circumstances, unless he means it for the lad's safety.

"But ye didn't call me to hear me blather on about that, but for news of home. And that I have, not all of it good. Aisling has vanished since ye left, and we've had no word of her."

Vere frowns. "Vanished?" he repeats. "How very unexpected. Is this considered to have been voluntary or involuntary, and is there any evidence to support either conclusion?"

"Well, it happened like this, son: she came in to talk to Caine and me, to debrief us, as it were, about her activities in Amber during Eric's reign. But it seems there were some significant omissions from what she told us, like the gun of your Uncle Corwin's she left in one of her lairs in the city. Caine took her into custody and she was whisked away from him, or whisked herself as the case may be. He thinks she couldn't have gotten away without help, though, and I'm inclined to believe him."

Vere makes an ambiguous noises and considers the possibilities of Caine and Aisling for a few seconds. Finally he says, "Most unfortunate. There seems little that can be done about it at this time. Please do keep me informed of any new information, I had developed and interest and a fondness for Dame Aisling." He tilts his head to one side. "Is there any news from Arden?" he asks without noticeable inflection.

"Preparations for the war move forward. Julian hae shut the borders, as he said. I'm glad yer sister's not riding there. Of that which ye dinna speak, I hae no news for good or ill, but no news seems to be good news. When ye call again, I shall be sure to know more certainly for ye," Gerard says.

"Although it would be good if ye asked for her by name, so I could tell her that if I speak to her."

Vere smiles. "She knows I think of her," he replies, "And she knows I am confidant she can take care of herself. Tell her that I asked you to tell her that I thought of her upon Corwin's Pattern, and that thought was no distraction. That will be sufficient."

"I'll do that," Gerard agrees.

"Another thing, though, Father. Assuming I do gather troops in Rebma, I intend to march them through Shadow to Amber. This will give them time to become accustomed to the surface world, and will also allow me experience at shifting shadow. However, all possibilities should be considered, and it would be useful for me to have a trump, should I need assistance while travelling. This one is King Corwin's, and I must return it to him. Is there any possibility that you could equip me with a trump, either of yourself or someone else I could trust to aid me in need?"

"I can give you a trump from my deck. I'd have given you a full deck, the way I did Solange, but the cabinet's locked now, and probably empty." Gerard sighs. "I'll have to fetch it, though; I don't carry it with me now. I'm out of the habit of them working."

"I must return this trump to King Corwin before departing Paris," Vere says. "I shall contact you again ere then, to receive the trump." He smiles at Gerard, "It was good to speak with you, Father. Is there aught else we should discuss?"

"Naught I can think of. Yer sister is well, I'm well, and Amber's no worse than she was when ye left. Take care."

"As always, Father, Should you have a chance, tell Jovian and Kourin that I am moving towards my goal, and shall return to Amber as swiftly as possible. I shall speak with you ere I leave Paris tomorrow. Fare thee well." And Vere closes his eyes and inverts the card in his hand, feeling the break in the connection with a certain amount of clinical interest.

When Celina returns to her chambers, she finds a note from Corwin requesting her presence at dinner that evening.

Celina will go straight to Alice for a "Paris dress" or one from her closet if needful. She will be there for dinner, of course. The dress will be a 'symbol of grace' to her father.

Dinner is set up in a small chamber, rather than in a state dining hall. There are two places set. Corwin is there, waiting for Celina, and helps seat her. He is dressed in a dark suit with a waistcoat of tapestry: black, with silver roses. He does not need to leave the bottom button undone, of course.

The servants bring in the first course; it's a light soup, meat broth with vegetables. Corwin waits until they have left to say more than pleasantries.

"How was your day, Celina?" he asks her once they are alone.

"It was a good day," she replies. "I feel as though the storm has made some special beauty of the sandy bottom by its passing. I'm much intrigued by everything I've seen. I also have to say that Lord Vere and Duke Jerod have been extrememly understanding of my earlier 'tantrum.' I set my Rebman responsibilities right. They didn't blink an eye. I had a good chat with Alice. She toured me through some of the green beds. A good day... father."

"I'm glad to hear it. Lady Ravenna gave me quite a lecture about you. I think they're worried that I mean to immure you or sell you into slavery or whatever it is they tell you we wicked Amber men are wont to do."

Corwin takes a spoonful of his soup and blows on it to cool it to consumable temperatures.

"About the other night--I know you were upset. It's a little overwhelming to find out things you didn't know about yourself, even if you'd had some inkling beforehand. I'm sure Vere and Jerod will be happy to forget it if you don't bring it up again. I'd be perfectly happy with that as well."

Celina is quick to respond--in her head--but locks her mouth from echoing her thoughts.

Really? Is this a command fitted to my foibles? That a woman's mistakes are not to be mentioned? How odd by double. How unlike Vere to forget such a thing. Or Jerod to imagine my faults are not nearly important enough to recall. I don't believe I've ever heard a stupider thing said to me. Or less true. Or am I in fact the thickest creature ever to breathe water?

"Well," Celina says quietly, "if that's what you want, father. I shall not mention it anymore." There is a small pause. "Thank you."

She begins her soup. Pushes away the image of grabbing and upending the whole table into the far wall. Her heart holds the anger close. Would he forget that too? Did he forget Eric's failings? His father's? As spines draw blood I don't think so.

Celina finds herself speaking before she knows it. "I wonder that Ravenna was so bold as to question your plans for me. Lecture a King? How gauche. I hope you didn't have to speak her down too much." Celina looks squarely at Corwin. "If she was rude, I'll strip her of her position." Her blood pounds away, hot and thick, but nothing of that is in her voice. She doesn't hear anger in her tone; which is by design.

Doesn't imagine how unlike Celina she is becoming as events move. How fast--and not by design.

She tries to enjoy the soup--watching the King.

"I think she has a certain parental concern for you," Corwin says. "I can hardly fault that." He blows on another spoonful of soup before tasting it.

Fault? Parental concern? Celina nibbles her lower lip. He has got to be trying to make me angry. An Amber prince is my father and my mother won't acknowledge she can keep me safe. Someone wants me dead or in their hands, and the Queen of Rebma cannot stop them.

"Merlin approved of what she had to say, too."

I so wanted to think ... what did I want to think? She nods. Of course, if the man agrees, it has to be good for me. Wait. Did he just say Merlin lectured him as well?

Celina swallows. She looks down at herself. The dress. For him. Fool. You just met him. What can you expect him to do? To say? You haven't done well in presenting yourself. You're thinking about making another scene. No wonder your mother tossed you to a man she's known less than a few days despite his legend. Such desperation. She must be in danger herself. You're impossible, Celina. A child. A pawn in a game you aren't fit to understand.

"Are you saying Merlin lectured you--or mildly agreed with Ravenna?" She carefully puts down her spoon, fighting again the fury that wants to upend the table and leave him here. The fury is fear and mistrust. She wants to hurt something. She will not let that guide her.

Corwin looks like he's thinking about saying something, but in the pause, Celina continues speaking.

She rubs at her cheek and glances at the soup. "Father," she takes a breath and looks up at him, "I'm talking nonsense, you know. I won't do a thing to Ravenna, or punish her for speaking strongly to you. If anything, it might be respect for you that she thinks you will listen to her experience. I probably need protection from myself--since I don't know who my enemies are. Or what I might do to understand more."

She pushes the soup bowl gently away. She studies his face. "And, you are talking nonesense as well. Neither Vere nor Jerod will forget what I did. Even if I thought I had just reason to ask them, wouldn't that be as if I didn't have the backbone to stand behind my actions? What kind of woman would I be, trying to manipulate men who have done nothing but treat fairly with me? I can't do that. I don't spend coin I haven't earned. And I'm beginning to think you won't tell me to. I can't afford to pile up debts to men I've just met."

"Including you," she says softly. She folds her hands together on the linen in front of her. She watches him.

"It's unfortunate that our family is so well known for looking at each other only in light of our mutual debts." Corwin puts down his spoon.

"Do you understand what's happened to us all lately, Celina? We've been at war. I've lost one brother to madness, another to his own pride, and a sister to, to--and my father. Jerod's father is dead, and he thinks it was for nothing. Vere's father was the best of us all, and he sits in a wheelchair, his legs shattered beyond our ability to heal. Merlin's mother tried to kidnap him, probably to his death, at his grandfather's funeral. And the attack on Random's coronation left at least two of your cousins injured, one seriously. You're right, Jerod and Vere won't forget what you did. But if they want to discount it for their own reasons, if your brother wants to discount it for his own reasons, would it be so wrong to let us all?"

The Seaward girl is visibly struck by these words. Celina's lips part to speak, but nothing results. Her hands come up and massage her cheekbones. Her voice is soft. "No, I didn't really understand. Or think about it from that perspective. So much loss. How could I understand?"

Corwin watches her, but doesn't say anything just yet.

She closes her eyes for just a moment. An act of will closes her heart on its anger and hurt. I won't try to explain to him that I feel I have lost Everything. A mother who never existed. A childhood surrounded by people following the orders of a queen. A queen who knew me for a daughter but took my measure and sent me away--not once but twice. A teacher who inspired me and then became a lover who was a also part of the deception. Everything I thought I loved. Gone.

She puts her hands down; shakes her head to clear it. "Then you suggest my outburst is rather small in the greater scale of this family at war. That makes sense. I can discount it if everyone else will. Certainly."

The matter of Merlin's treatment at his mother's hands bothers her most of all. It also gives her focus. She turns it over in her mind, seeking shape and color to such a thing. "Why? Merlin's mother. Why kill him if he has decided to be with you instead of her? I don't understand. How can he be so valuable to her she cannot let him choose you, so small a value that she can destroy her own child? What kind of woman does that? What are these Chaosi?"

She looks at the King, her father.

"She's not human," says Corwin. "I mean that very literally. She would use Merlin to further her own power, perhaps without realizing that she was destroying him. There was a guard that she destroyed this way when she attacked Amber. She--ate is the best word for it--his mind. Now he's a drooling idiot and she knows all that he knew. She probably wouldn't mean to gobble Merlin up that way, but the net effect would be to destroy what makes him himself."

Celina gasps out loud when Corwin delivers the bit about "ate his mind" and her hands tighten against each other. A tiny shiver passes through her frame.

He puts his hands down flat on the table. "She hates me because I killed her father."

"Oh," she says quietly.

Her thoughts spin off into three tracks in silence.

Corwin waits a moment for Celina to speak, and when she doesn't, he picks up his spoon and takes another spoonful of his soup. "Don't let it get cold," he suggests.

And some part of her hears and her hand picks up the spoon. Once the spoon arrives at her mouth the oddity will hit home--she is surprised to find it there. Celina blinks.

She silently works on the soup for a bit.

Vivid memories turn over in her mind. Soft as a rose petal and prickles like the thorn. Cold like steel, yet hot like the sparking fire. Fire prickling at her legs and thighs.

"You killed her Father?" Celina hears it and then knows she has said it. She notes the soup is finished. "Merlin said that he tried to shoot you with a crossbow when you first met. Is this family destructive impulse something I'm heir to? Is there anything you would like to tell me about why so many people in this family are thought of as tyrants and monsters?"

She swallows--amazed to have said it--startled to be so calmly curious. "Not to be too personal."

"Borel I can explain easily. He challenged me on my way to the last battlefield, and I killed him because I didn't have time to play his game. I didn't know who he was until later." Corwin's dark eyes flash with some distant anger, but he composes himself before answering her next question.

Celina finds the shadows in her father's eyes most interesting.

"Merlin, again, I didn't know. I had taken a trump through to near where he was being raised to get out of a--bad situation, let's call it--and his companion attacked me. I killed the fellow. Merlin recognized me and decided not to repay the favor. I didn't find out until some time later that I had a son, much less that it was he."

"Ah," murmurs Celina.

Corwin pauses and thinks for a moment before adding, "I think our destructive tendencies have as much to do with failing to recognize each other as anything else."

She looks sad, but nods agreeably. Failing to recognize. Yes. How little I would have believed before this.

Another spoonful of soup or two allows him time to think about his next question. "What did they tell you in Rebma about us?"

Celina smiles. "Remember first that I am a Seaward lass, and only had stories of what men of Amber are like until Rebma. In Seaward, you are all golden and fierce with powers settled about you like cloaks. In Rebma, they say that the princes have shadows in their eyes as dark as the bottom of the sea. They say that secrets are the only currency a prince of Amber respects. They talk about Rebma being valued as an afterthought--its own proud history mocked in subtle fashion with words like 'reflection.'"

She pauses, trying to judge if she is stirring waters best left still.

Corwin merely looks interested, not hostile or angry.

"I think people don't understand us. We see things very differently. We live a long time. The power of the Pattern, to walk in Shadow, teaches us things most people don't know. Most people only see a slice of reality. We see most of the loaf. Because we have a bigger perspective, we do things that seem strange or unreasonable. And what people don't understand, they fear."

The mirrors and images in her mind are overwhelming. Don't understand; they fear. Do you fear me, father? Do you understand me?

We see most of the loaf. Don't understand us. Things people don't know. Live a long time. Fear. Reality. Perspective. Strange.

Something comes into focus then for Celina. Does he fear me the way I've feared Moire? No. Does he fear Moire? Yes. He can't possibly understand her.

Does she understand him? Celina's mental landscape shivers with silvery images. Roses are there, too. Sweet and subtle pleasures. The Queen of Rebma's smile seems to surround it all.

He takes another bite of soup. "Amber has forgotten a lot about Rebma. I suspect with Vialle at Random's side, that will change."

Vialle. Of course. Celina nods. Even there, Moire is ahead of everyone. Suddenly, I don't feel quite so stupid. Or alone in my stupidity. "Yes, I think it will change. Even the concept of Eternal Amber will have to change." She looks at him. "Won't it, father? With the life draining out of it? Or are you committed to doing something about that?"

Corwin looks off into space for a moment. Celina has the sense that he's seeing long past her, into ancient history, a place only he can see and recall. Finally, he says, "I've done what I can for Amber. Random will have as much help as I can spare, but my future lies in Paris now."

He dips his spoon into his cooling soup. After a moment, he abandons it there.

Celina is shocked to feel his pain. She cannot stop her heart from twisting or even turn away as the strength leaves his hand and the spoon sits neglected. She begins to weep without knowing.

In Rebma, the waters would be her ally in hiding this. She has not yet the habit to hide it herself.

Corwin rises from his chair and comes to his daughter's side. "Don't cry," he says, taking her napkin and dabbing her eyes as if she were a very little girl. "Random's wily. There's a lot yet he can do. And if it is Amber's time to fade and fall ..." he shakes his head as he trails off.

"... we regroup, and go on."

She is watchful when he rises, not foreseeing his intent. Then surprised when he takes her tears into the napkin. She watches him still; listens hard to his voice: his words about a man -- a king -- that she hasn't met, but has won the Rebman hearts of two women.

One of them killed herself, the other is now queen of a dying city.

Celina sighs. She reaches and takes Corwin's hand. She has missed the paternal significance of his tenderness with the ritual of taking her tears. Such things do not happen beneath the sea.

The sea is mother and father; giving source and nightmare.

She knows in her own lands, the 'taking of tears' would mean that the man wanted the two of them to be closer than the community of the sea. That water would be special between them, not shared with others.

It is an old and rather silly notion to try and apply to the King of Paris. Yet Celina senses that Corwin is touching her tears in some act of comfort instead of ownership.

She hopes.

She looks at his pale hand in hers a moment more. "You spoke of death and you listed members of your family. You did not list Amber. It wasn't in your mind that the City would die." She kisses his wrist slowly, as a mother would comfort a child from bad dreams. And in case she is wrong, Celina also hopes that this ritual refusal to acknowledge the taking of her tears also tells him that she cannot be confined to such a relationship.

Will this anger him? She can't guess.

Corwin seems startled, but not offended, by the gesture, and looks at Celina. Perhaps he's trying to figure out what she meant.

She looks at his green eyes: mirrors to a piece of her. "But you are in love with that City. You are in pain as she is in pain. Did these deaths create some wound in Amber or did they bleed out its heart? You have admitted it pales now, but still you wonder if there isn't some way to close the wound. Tell me what you are thinking. Expressing it will help you and me."

As talking through a nightmare can make the day fresh again. For while you cannot leave Paris, you are not the only one who can act here. Celina waits on him, very careful to catch each nuance of his expression.

"I can't really express it. That's how it is sometimes with things I've learned, since ..." Corwin trails off there. After a moment he completes the thought, obviously with different words from those he originally intended. "And I hope you never have to gain the knowledge."

...since I birthed Paris. Celina completes in her head. Seeing him in this maternal aspect is something new to consider. And then his jarring closer. "Really?" She shuts down the tangential thought.

Switching rides then. "Then you would support me in fighting for Amber's continued existence? Aiding Random if he decides to 'go down swinging' as you say?"

"I think you should talk to Random before you make that decision," Corwin says, very seriously. "But if you decide to do that, I'll support you. Do you and Merlin mean to travel to Amber?"

"I am not certain at all what Merlin and I will mean to do," Celina answers carefully. "I will be talking to him again soon. He may have his own reasons to stay away from Amber, if that is where his 'mother' last found him."

Celina is watchful of Corwin during mention of this woman.

Corwin frowns at the mention of Dara, but doesn't seem to have anything to say about that topic.

She adds, "I didn't mean that I had made any decision--only that it was an obvious choice and I wanted to know that you weren't set against it. It seems that is not an issue with you---which is fine."

"I understand she has killed and injured people merely attempting to regain some power over Merlin. She even threatened the King of Amber." Celina puts these things out in a neutral tone.

Corwin has shown himself well diposed to Random and yet very sensitive to his new realm of Paris. Is there tension then, that the 'old' realm's king will try to rule the 'new' realm of Paris?

It is obvious that the Pattern here has power. Vere has described 'the failings' of the one in Amber.

"Dara would do well to leave Random alone. Even with Amber in reduced circumstances, he commands a great deal of power and family loyalty. And I don't think Dara made any friends at the masquerade."

Now that Celina has clearly mastered her tears, Corwin returns to his own seat.

Celina studies his walk quite seriously from behind.

He starts to pick up the spoon again and decides against. "Are you ready for me to call for the next course, Celina?"

"Indeed, father," Celina nods, "I am more than ready. Let the next course begin."

A day after Celina's meeting with Jerod in the corridor of the castle, a small package arrives for Celina with a note.

I think you'll find this enjoyable. One of the perks of living above the waves. It's called chocolate.

Jerod

p.s.

Don't eat it all at once.

A note finds its way back to Jerod a day later?

Jerod

While some might think sending aphrodisiacs to an aunt is gauche--I must admit that I had a lovely time. Through all of them. Tension that I did not even realize I was carrying yet.

You are truly on my list of people to hug and cherish.
Kisses.

Celina

Jerod smiles a moment as he reads the note, nodding to himself. "So far, so good." he says, even as he rolls the note into a small tube, holding it over a candle to burn it into ash.