Liaisons

One fair morning in the fourth week of Archer, Jovian packs a more elaborate - and larger - lunch than is his wont, and his morning preparations include a side trip to a storage room where he knows there must be a rug rolled up and put away, a bit threadbare but in colors and patterns that (judging from the decor of her bedroom) Flora would find pleasing. As the second bell of afternoon watch finds him on a gentle, shady slope overlooking the ocean a hundred or more miles to Kolvir's southwest, Florimel finds there's something she ought to be thinking about.

The tickle in Florimel's mind resolves itself into the image of Jovian, and he can see the object of his interest brushing her hair in her chambers. "Yes?" she says, looking into Jovian's eyes.

How I do enjoy hearing that word on your lips, he does not say, but thinks almost loudly enough. But there is fondness in the thought as well as lechery.

"I've found a wonderfully scenic spot to stop and have some lunch," he smiles, and it becomes apparent that his standing so casually with his back to the line of trees in bloom reaching down to the shore is no coincidence. "All it needs to be perfect is the honor of your company, if you haven't eaten already."

"Honor, Jovian?" Flora says with a smile, rising from her chair. She extends her hand to him, continuing, "I haven't had lunch yet. But you know the hours I keep."

She's garbed in a pale green gown, and she picks up a shawl to wrap around her tender shoulders against any cool spring wind. Not only does it set off her eyes and her golden hair, the color also shows her off like a lovely blossom against the spring grass as Jovian hands her through.

"Honor," he repeats with a grin, bowing his head to kiss her hand as she steps through. "Some might say blessing I suppose," he adds, saying the word like he's not quite used to it. "But there, see, I was right. You perfect your surroundings."

"You are too kind," Flora says. "But traditionally, gentlemen request the honor of my presence, but the pleasure of my company." The reproach in her tone is all mock as her beautiful blue eyes lock with Jovian's for a moment.

Jovian locks back, unabashed, sparkling even. "But if I'm honored as well as pleased, you know, I won't ever take you for granted."

She turns to survey her surroundings. "We're past Garnath, aren't we? I'm not sure I've ever been out this far. Hello, Canareth."

"He's happy to see you too, Bloodflower," Jovian winks. "We're about ten miles beyond the southwest reaches of Garnath; the castle is some forty leagues that way." He waves to the northeast, where Kolvir's peak is lost under the horizon. "How much further you can go without accidentally slipping into shadow, I'm not quite sure."

He gestures welcomingly to the rug laid out on the grass, where luncheon is not yet laid out. He reaches into a pack for a bottle and two wooden goblets - not the most elegant, but shaped nicely and not apt to break in transit. "Some wine?"

"Please," Flora says, and seats herself on one side of the rug, elegantly folding her legs beneath her. As Jovian pulls out the goods, she does her best to peek into the pack.

Jovian watches her, amused, with one eye as he pours the wine, and holds her gaze a little longer than necessary for the sheer pleasure of it as he hands it over. "Feeling a bit peckish, dear?" he smiles, and sets about unpacking.

There's dark bread, a pot of goat cheese and some smoked salmon sliced thin, which he places like they're meant to go together. Some other cheese as well, something cheddar-like and a wedge of brie. And, perhaps surprisingly, some shortbread and a little jar of lemon curd. "I'm afraid I haven't had a chance to range in Shadow for fresh fruits and such, so it's a feast of simple fare today. World enough, but only the time we can risk stealing." His smile turns a bit wan for just a moment, as if he's told a poor joke on himself.

He raises his cup toward her, catches her gaze and holds it a moment before offering a toast: "The things worth stealing time for."

Flora raises her glass, and lifts it to her wine-colored lips. "Sometimes," she says after she has taken a sip, "a loaf of bread and a jug of wine are almost all that one desires."

She takes up the knife Jovian produced and slices off a piece of bread. She spreads a little goat cheese on it, then spears a slice or two of the salmon to add to her creation. At last, she offers it to Jovian, raising it to his mouth for him to take a bite.

Never one to refuse such charming manipulation in a beautiful woman - nor good food whenever offered - Jovian leans forward. His eyes close as his teeth sink through the delicate pink flesh, the rich salt-sweet flavors insinuating themselves with a gentle assertiveness on his tongue. He cannot resist the temptation to kiss her fingertip before leaning back to chew and sip more wine.

Flora waits until he has leaned back to take a delicate bite of her own from the other end of the bread. They could eat their way to the middle where their lips would touch, if they liked.

Jovian sees where this is heading and chuckles softly [not giggles - bronze riders don't giggle ;-)], with what is in all probability a rather goofy grin. He is willing to indulge her in such whimsy - and fish breath is really quite all right if you both have it.

Cuteness ensues, corny as hell but nourishing.

He will let his lips linger on hers as long as she pleases to have it so, and rub noses after. He is capable of being silly like that. (But not, it should be noted, often.)

Certainly Flora doesn't have a public reputation for being silly either. But she can be, and is, today.

At the end of it, they have consumed the loaf of bread, the jug of wine, and their accompaniments. All that is left is the man and the woman by his side.

The man leans back, propped on elbows, legs stretched out to seaward, and makes a little gesture of invitation to the space beside him.

The woman comes and sits next to him, not quite in the curl where his arm would be, but in a position where she could be there easily with a slight shift. She is sitting all the way up, her arms curled around her knees for balance. If she let go and leaned back, she would be lying alongside Jovian.

She turns to look at him fondly as he begins to speak.

"Never been out this way, you said. That's kind of funny, you know? So taken we are with going anywhere we can imagine, such far-flung places we invent or explore or both...and overlook such peace and beauty as this right at hand." At this last, he stares unabashedly into her eyes.

Flora returns the gaze, her lashes fluttering a little, but does him the credit of taking his flattery seriously. "I don't think we're used to thinking of Amber as peaceful, my dear. We've been fighting, either our enemies or among ourselves, for so long. Even when I was a girl, there was war. They sent me to Rebma for safety, but I remember what it was like when I came back. How things are now--reminds me of that, Jovian."

She shakes the melancholy mood off and smiles at Jovian. "But that's a weighty thought for a light afternoon. Let us speak then of beauty, whether near or far, and other such things."

Jovian's smile is gentle, honest and fond, as unabashed as his gaze. "All right then. Tell me about the place where you lived your happiest time."

"Oh, I've loved so many places. Karime. Hamakaido. Retalley before the war. Paris and New York, in Corwin's old shadow." Flora smiles nostalgically. "Even Rebma, when I wasn't there for fear of what was happening in Amber. I don't know how I could pick just one."

"You know, I've never been to Rebma. Apart from this month, I've only been this way to visit with Julian--" Somehow, it seems odd to call him Dad in this context. "So I've seen little more than the forest. And the basement," he adds with a chuckle. Almost with its own will, one hand rises to stroke the curve of her spine, gently, just taking in the sublime, soothing pleasure of touching.

Flora leans into his touch. "Oh, they'd eat up a handsome young fellow like you in Rebma. They do, you know. All the powerful ladies like Moire and their boy toys. One does wonder what they saw in my fink of a little brother. It was the hair, probably--they think blond hair is very exotic."

The breeze picks up, just a little.

"Then you must have been the geometric center of attention," Jovian smiles, his eyes following a single golden curl catching the wind in a particularly artistic way.

"So paint me a picture, then," he suggests, stroking up and down her back all along, "of the beauty of Rebma that touched your heart."

"Imagine Amber, the graceful curves and exquisite placement of the spires, lit up like Paris by gaslight with magical glowing globes containing fire. Picture our home but with cool waters and currents and fish instead of birds.

"See it then, a mirror of our Amber, a place with so much of the beauty and the mystery and the majesty of our home, where we are honored guests and exotic strange air-breathers.

"And think, Jovian, of the things that are not there. The things that in Amber break the facade of perfection. The striving of brother against brother, the centuries old grudges, the necessity of watching each glance or word for political import, the jealous attention.

"I never wonder that Llewella is happier there, Jovian. One can imagine that the happy times will continue when one is in that place."

"Ah, love," Jovian shakes his head just a little. "Her public face is all enchantment - I can nearly see it. But then, from what I've seen of such matters...women in politics can be at least as nasty as men. Just quieter, more subtle about it." For an instant pain colors his expression, quickly giving way to a quiet sadness - perhaps regret at breaking the spell of Flora's sweet memories.

"It's been a disadvantage of mine at times," he sighs. "I've tried to keep meanness and treachery out of my own life, so I haven't always seen it in others when I should have."

"As little as I like Random, I meant it when I swore to him. I want the fighting to stop. Corwin and Eric nearly destroyed us all, because we were too busy fighting each other to band together against our real enemies. Now Eric is gone, and Corwin is gone, too, in his own way. Do you think it's over, Jovian?"

Flora leans into his hand as she speaks.

"I hope it is," he answers earnestly, easing his arm around her and drawing her nearer. "I want it to be. Three quarters of my life I've been fighting. I want not to be a warrior for a while." His eyes meet Flora's and hold, the space between them seeming to disappear in that long moment.

Flora leans into Jovian's shoulder, meeting his gaze without saying anything.

Falling into that gaze as he is, he finds himself constitutionally incapable of not kissing her...with gentle but unmistakable enthusiasm, he cooperates with the inevitable, drawing her tight in his arms if she permits.

Flora cooperates with Jovian's efforts, tilting her head to one side as he leans forward to claim his kiss. One of her hands comes up to touch the side of his face lightly.

About two days before Martin and Folly's return to Amber, a small tousled hair boy was racing through Castle Amber. It was Pert, Solace's young page, and everything about his haste and demeanour proclaimed that he was on An Important Mission.

He stopped various people who might be expected to know, and his urgent question was always the same.

"Please ... have you seen Dame Lilly? I have a message to her from Monsiegneur!"

For such was Lucas's designation by his personal staff.

It was a guardsman who was finally able to place her in the Salle with some certainty. A few others had suggested either there or the library, but only one seemed sure. As he had promised, Pert found her there sparring with tow of the castle guards. Despite being out numbered she seemed to be handling them both with ease. As he entered the room, she did not visibly take notice of his presence.

Pert is far too well-trained to interrupt, but he stands on the sidelines, shifting from foot to foot. Whatever his message is, the boy seems to think it urgent and - judging by his worried expression - not good news.

After a few moments, Lilly calls a halt. The two guardsmen seem rather relieved by this. Judging by their age and apparent fatigue, they are younger members of the guard who really do not seem to understand what they were getting themselves into when they accepted Lilly's invitation.

Sheathing her sword, Lilly turns her full attention to Pert. "Yes?"

"Monsiegneur asks for you to come at once, Dame Lilly," says Pert, a little breathlessly. Like all of Lucas' staff, he used the title 'Monsieneur' for hi master. "It's Madame la Marquise. She's ... not well, and Prince Gerard is with her. They want you to come and M'sieur Venesch too. Gaston went to find him ..."

He looks up at Lilly pleadingly. "Will you come?"

Lilly's features instantly change from mildly annoyed, to deeply concerned. "Where are they?"

"In Monsiegneur's suite, Dame Lilly," says Pert promptly. "Madame la Marquise is sleeping - at least, she was when I left, and Monsiegneur was speaking with the Prince. And ... and Monsiegneir made us move the children's nursery."

It is clear that this has worried him more than anything.

Once she garners the information she turns to the guardsmen present in the room.

"Lute," she barks. "Go find Captain Venesch. Tell him it is a matter of extreme urgency. Have him meet me at (insert location here...). Go quickly."

The guard immediately, and very wisely, jumps to his feet, "Yes, Dame Lilly."

Turning her attention back to the page, "Lead the way and make haste. Do not worry about my ability to keep up with you."

"At once, Dame Lilly!" agrees Pert, and he shoots off with an alacrity that would be admirable in a greyhound.

Lilly falls behind him and keeps pace. She was not concerned about what those passing her in the halls might be thinking. At his moment she did not even care about the fact that she was certainly not dressed for anything other then sparring. Somehow she knew that this might be the one time Lucas would not even notice the state she was in or better yet, he might appreciate the fact that she did not take the time to change.

Lilly is greeted at the door as the door of Lucas' suite by the lugubrious Gaston, Lucas' manservant. His mood appears more than usually sombre - so might he escort them to view the body. However, when they arrive in the sitting room Lucas, his face showing an unusual degree of tension, is very much alive. He is sitting in an armchair, speaking quietly with Gerard.

He rises at once with punctilousness to greet Lilly.

"Thank you for coming so promptly," he says. "How much did Pert tell you?"

"Very little. Only that your wife was injured and Captain Venesch and I were be asked for." Lilly replies.

"Solace has, we believe, been attacked. In the children's nursery."

Venesch arrives almost immediately afterwards, and Lucas repeats himself for the Captain's benefit.

Gerard is frowning. Venesch, by contrast, is appalled and worried. He starts to say something, but Gerard cuts him off.

"She's not wounded. The lass has a terrible headache, but I can't find anything else wrong with her. I don't think whatever did this is a man. Lilly, have you been keeping up with Aisling's creature?"

"I have seen it from time to time. Perhaps before we jump there though, someone can give me further details as to what happened. I would prefer to know as much as possible before I begin making conclusions." She was not being intentionally rude. Lilly simply had a certain way of doing things. In cases such as this she wanted facts before speculation.

"Of course," says Lucas. "Of course."

He still sounds somewhat less urbane than usual - if this were anyone other than invariably detatched and indolent Lucas, you might say he is alarmed by what has happened.

"Solace was in the nursery," he says. "I was in our bedroom - we were testing a simple alarm I've tried to set up - in case one of the children is taken ill during the night. I heard her cry out - a fall - and then Hope started screaming. I went in ... she was unconscious on the floor. I carried her to my room - my staff comforted the children. We've moved their nursery. Hope ... Hope says she heard her mother cry out - saw her stiffen and cry out and collapse ... "

He rises suddenly and walks to the window, staring out. It is clear he's taking a few moments to compose himself. Then he turns, and his face is expressionless.

"No-one could have entered the nursery without my seeing them. I was in there earlier myself, supervising as Gaston fixed the alarm. No-one was in there then. Nanny Starch brought the children ... Lilly, no-one could have entered that room by natural means."

His face is more than expressionless now - it is hard.

"Someone attacked my wife. They may have been aiming for my children too. And I shall find out who."

Lilly turns her attention back to Gerard, "Why about that story made you think to ask me about Cloudeater?" Again there are no underlying currents in her tone. It was a simple question based upon sheer curiosity.

Gerard says simply, "Because I don't know of many folk left in Amber who might have that kind of magic. There are magicians, true: the Gatwegians and the Rebmans for sure, and perhaps others. But after what Dara did to that poor guard, that was the first thing that came to my mind. I wouldn't call him guilty, but you can see why I think he wants questioning."

Venesch has observed impassively, as is his way.

"When the army left the Abyss many were overtaken with nightmares. It has been my theory that those were an attack of sorts brought on by an outside force. I have had no way to prove that of course but there are far too many similarities between the dreams the Knights had for me to accept it as coincidence. Now I suppose it may have been Cloudeater, but I am much more inclined to believe that it came from another source.

"Because of that experience, I am wondering if the assailant needed to be here in Amber. Trumps work at a great distance. Perhaps there are sorcerous attacks that do as well." Lilly is very much interested in the others opinions on this and it is obvious in her tone. She is welcoming debate in an effort to find the hidden truth.

"Wonderful," says Lucas bitterly. "So not only are we powerless against physical attacks coupled with sorcery such as at the Masquerade, but you're now holding out the prospect that my wife ... my children ... can be attacked by any random sorceror who has a whim to slap an Amberite - or an Amberite associate.

"You may well be right - but I want more immediate steps taken as well. I want my children guarded - as you and Gerard think best. I want Aisling's little friend questioned - both about its own involvement ... and about the possibilities you've raised.

"One thing that occurs to me ... I wouldn't place my family that high on the food chain. What if this attack were a way of probing our defences? There are children - or rather, there will be children - who one faction or another might regard with deeper interest than my Hope and Phillippe."

There is a momentary look of dread on Lilly's face. Clearly she has considered this before. She had no clue how she was going to manage to keep the twins safe. Now she had the other little ones to worry about as well. It all served as a very intense reminder that she did not want to be a parent. If she could not ensure the safety and well being off her offspring she wanted absolutely nothing to do with having them. Right now she seriously doubted that an child born of Amber blood could ever truly be safe.

"That's possible," Gerard replies placidly, unmoved by Lucas' complaints. "It's also quite possible that Solace has a sudden migraine headache, and we're all jumping at shadows. She's been fragile since she was pregnant with Phillipe, Lucas, and we can't discount ill health as the cause of her woes. Dworkin's Razor."

Lilly found herself forced to agree and yet, at the same time, she hoped Lucas knew his wife better then that. She hoped that the man would be able to tell the difference between a bad headache and an attack of sorts.

Lucas is frowning. "I would like to believe that," he says at last. His tone suggests he finds it unlikely.

He says to Venesch, who has been waiting for some pronouncement from the former Regent, "We'll need to tighten up security, both here and generally, and we'll need to have a plan to take to the Queen. When we get the redheads back, we'll need to talk to them about what might cause this kind of effect, but until then we're a bit stymied. I'm not sure I want to advertise our weakness to our local magicians, if they haven't figured it out on their own."

Gerard looks to Lilly, as if inviting her reply.

"Agreed," she responds. "I think we should try to keep news of this within the palace if that is at all possible. Of course I do not think it should be hidden from family. We all need to know of the dangers that could be present so that we can be better prepared for them."

Gerard nods.

"I would also suggest Lucas, that until Amber is secure, you may want to think about moving your loved ones elsewhere. Perhaps Uncle Corwin has a spare set of suites available." [Lilly] was not sure how he would take such a suggestion but felt it needed to be made all the same.

Lucas looks as if he is about to vehemently object - and then he gives a fatalistic Gallic shrug. "Eh bien. We shall see. I would prefer not to leave Amber at this present time ... but ... it might become necessary to ensure that my wife and children find a place of greater safety."

Gerard doesn't say "Where is that?" but Lucas suspects he's thinking it.

Venesch says to Gerard and Lilly, "I will make the arrangements immediately, Gerard-sama." He nods to Lilly and Lucas, and unless Lilly or Lucas intervenes, is on his way.

Gerard tells Lucas, "I'll come up later tonight and look in on Solace again. If she sleeps whatever this is off, she'll be all the better for it. If she wakes and is ill, or gets worse, send for me at once."

"Thank you," says Lucas. "And of course I shall. I very much appreciate this, Uncle."

He glances at Lilly to see if she has anything to add - either to both of them, or to himself alone.

She returns the look and says simply, "If you have need of me, for any reason, please do not hesitate to call on me." With that and a bow of the head, she turns to leave.

One evening Ossian and Valeria has a quiet dinner in a secluded part of a small restuarant in Amber city. (Ossian has told the keeper of the place that he should keep quiet about his guests unless he wants to be fed alive to Lord Jovian's firelizard.)

Raising a glass of wine Ossian asks "Say, my love. You have been to Paris with Prince Corwin. What was the place like?"

Valeria is dressed in a lovely gown of sheer fabric, layered for decency, but still light. It's held in place by metal netting. She raises her glass to Ossian, and takes a sip of wine.

"Oh, it's quite lovely. Technology seems a bit more stable there than it ever was in Amber. There are a lot of parks, and the avenues are very wide. It's bustling and lively, and it seems like more people arrive there every day."

"Mmm. Parks. That sounds really nice. And more technology...do you know if spray-can painting works?...eh..." Ossian sounds excited "It isn't _too_ rectilinear, I hope? I mean, the design of the city?"

"I didn't explore the whole thing, but I did see some circles," Valeria replies. "Nobody had spray cans, at least not that I saw. Are you planning to visit Paris soon, Ossian?"

"Maybe." Ossian smiles playfully "I don't know, but one of these days... I am a curious person.

"I could do worse than learning to know uncle Corwin better. You know him much better than I do; I have never really talked to him."

Valeria smiles, and it occurs to Ossian to wonder exactly how well the Rebman woman knows him. "He's an interesting man. Very powerful. I think had my father died in his domain, the mystery would already have been solved."

"That may be so." Ossian looks slightly uncomfortable "Don't give up on us, Valeria."

"But he is very fit to be king, I think. I guess his population follow him more than Amber's follow Random?"

Valeria says, perfectly seriously, "He's more of a hands-on monarch." After a moment, she adds, "He shows a proper maternal concern for his queendom."

Ossian chuckles. "Maybe he likes being king? I have the feeling Random isn't as sure of what he wants."