It's sometime in the watch before dawn when Martin arrives at the new chamber allotted to Folly in the recent reshuffle of rooms. If there's light under the door or music drifting forth from within, he knocks.
There's both light and music, the latter slightly dissonant and in an irregular meter. It seems a strange choice for bedtime music.
At the sound of his knock, the music stops. There's a longer-than-usual pause before the door opens -- just a cautious crack at first, but when Folly sees who it is, she pulls the door wide open and beckons him in.
Martin closes the door behind himself quickly and quietly.
She's wearing a t-shirt and a pair of jeans Martin suspects she pulled on when he knocked, because poking out over the waistband is the top edge of a pair of flannel boxers, the sort she often wears to bed. She obviously hasn't slept yet tonight, though: her hair is still pinned up in the style she wore to the memorial service.
"You couldn't sleep, either, huh?" she asks with a grim little smile. "Or are you just now getting home?"
"Yes," says Martin, in answer to Folly's questions. "I don't know if I'm going to get any sleep at all."
He touches Folly's hair, hesitantly, before letting his hand fall back to his side.
"You're not alone," Folly says wryly; but the soft, concerned look in her eyes bespeaks far more than shared insomnia.
She removes her lute from the couch to its stand in the corner, sits, and reaches out a hand to Martin, inviting him to join her. She seems content to let him reveal the reason for his visit in his own time.
Martin takes her hand and sits down next to her on the couch without relinquishing it. He looks at her for a long time, starting to open his mouth once and closing it, his mouth becoming a thin, flat line.
Finally, he says, "You know, you have to know, there's work I've been doing that I don't talk about very much. Not so much the kinds of things I used to do for Grandfather--nothing so dramatic--but things that require someone who knows about those kinds of things. Security, you could call it. Some of it is new business. Some of it's--not."
He pauses for a long time. "I think you may have peripherally gotten caught up in some of that work. I need to ask you some questions."
Folly nods slowly, her expression difficult to read. Her fingers tense, tightening around his for a moment, but she doesn't say anything.
Then: "I hate to do this, but I don't want to lie about what I'm doing and I don't want you not to know why I'm asking. I don't want you involved in all this, but if you and I are--close--I think you are anyway. This is part of who I am. I'm sorry."
Martin is still holding Folly's hand, but loosely enough that she could easily free herself is she wished.
She doesn't. Instead, she lays her other hand on top of his and looks at him, waiting for him to continue.
His fingers tighten on hers momentarily, then release.
"When I'm done," Martin says, "I'll answer your questions, if you want me to. But, Folly, you can't unknow things after you find them out. And some of it may be dangerous to know."
"Dangerous how?" Folly asks, a bit hoarsely. "Dangerous because it might change my perceptions? Or dangerous because someone might hurt me for what I know?"
"Some of both," Martin says. He's doing his best to keep his voice neutral, but his hand in Folly's keeps betraying him. "I won't know how much of the latter until I know what you know, and then I'm guessing based on--other things."
Folly is silent for a long, tense moment, thinking. Her eyes are fixed on her hand in Martin's, but after the first few seconds she seems to be seeing something else entirely. Whatever it is, it doesn't make her very happy.
With a shiver, she looks up again, meeting his gaze.
"I'd rather know than not know," she says. "Even if it's dangerous. If, as you say, just being close to you is enough to get me involved, I'm sure I'm in deep shit already. I should probably know what it is I've stepped in."
"Loving a prince of Amber," says Martin, sadly, and his hand tightens on hers.
"I don't think you could convince me it's not worth the risk," Folly says softly. "For almost any value of risk."
The lines of sorrow etched in Martin's face smooth away at her words, and the corners of his mouth turn up, probably without his conscious volition. He doesn't speak, though.
She takes a deep breath, steeling herself for whatever is next. "What do you need to know?"
Martin reluctantly slides his hand out of hers. He says, falling into what Folly suspects is part of a potted speech for him, "Just answer my questions as completely as you can. There are no wrong or right answers. Give me as many details as you can recall, because something you might not think is important might turn out to be very important."
His expression has settled into a studied neutrality not unlike the face he wears when playing poker, but less affable. It occurs to Folly that he may have taken his hand back to avoid telegraphing his responses to her answers.
Folly draws her feet up under herself and hugs a throw-pillow to her chest, surprised at how much colder she suddenly feels from the loss of Martin's hand. She nods gravely and waits for him to go on.
He begins: "When and how did you first hear about the poker game Jerod and I hosted this evening?"
Folly's brow furrows as she rewinds through the last two weeks. "Jerod mentioned it, I know," she says. "He was bringing me the first draft of the casualty list, so it must've been right after you left, that day or maybe the day after. He mentioned he was planning a...." She hesitates, trying to recall his phrasing. "...a 'gathering of just the lads', for when you returned. He asked if I had any suggestions -- if I knew of anything you might require. I think that's the first I heard of it."
Martin nods. "Who did he mention as being on the guest list?"
"I... I don't think he mentioned the guest list except for specifying its gender," Folly replies. "Although from his use of the word 'lads', I kind of suspected he might be talking about... well, cousins rather than uncles, y'know? Probably Lucas, probably not Benedict. But that could just be me reading too much into his word choice."
Martin nods again, and gives her a little bit of a smile that's probably meant to be reassuring. "How many other discussions have you had about the poker party? With Jerod or with other people."
Folly frowns slightly as she thinks back. "None that I recall...."
"That's OK. Remember, there are no right or wrong answers," Martin says.
"Since the army returned, I know you've spent a lot of time with a lot of different people. I'd like you to cast your mind back over the conversations you've had with various people over the last couple of weeks. What kinds of conversations have you had about Jerod? Who's been talking about him, and what have they had to say?"
"Jerod? Hmmm. Well, he came up when we had lunch with your dad, but you were there for that."
Martin nods.
"Cambina, when I asked her for secretarial suggestions for you, asked who Jerod had suggested. When I told her, she said that he sometimes doesn't realize when he's being partisan."
She pauses, opens her mouth to continue, and then bites her lip. "Uh, I think I mentioned him to Merlin after Merlin pulled his little stunt on you at the Prince. I... uh... I allowed that maybe I did sort of understand, a little, how Jerod could threaten violence against his cousins as casually as he sometimes does."
Martin nods again and cups his chin in his hand with his elbow resting on one knee. Folly feels that he's using the motion to disguise some betraying expression or gesture.
She pauses again. "And when I was talking to Aisling about which of the cousins she didn't know yet, he came up in passing as someone she already did know, but she didn't say anything more than that." She shrugs. "That's all I can recall."
"That's fine. Let's talk about Cambina for a minute. Who have you discussed her with, and what kinds of conversations have you had about her?"
Folly shakes her head slowly. "She's come up even less than Jerod. Aisling also mentioned her in the list of cousins she already knew, but didn't say any more than that. And... and your dad. We were talking about the ways to get to Tir. He opined that if there were a good way to get there without the stairs or a Pattern or a Trump, Cambina would already be there. But that's it."
OK," says Martin. "Dad. I bet a lot of people want to talk about him. Tell me about who's talking about my father and what they have to say."
He's being very deliberate in his speech: not quite slow, but perhaps a touch more precise in his pronunciation than normal.
"Well, yeah," Folly says, "I guess I've heard a lot of people talking about your dad, but not necessarily directly to me, and not as many as --"
She stops dead. Her eyes widen, and the color drains from her face.
_As talk about you._
"Oh, shit." She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, willing herself to answer the question he asked rather than jumping ahead to where she thinks he's going. Maybe she's wrong.
She opens her eyes again and begins her answer, her speech almost as measured as Martin's.
Whatever reaction Martin is having is sitting just beneath the surface, fighting to get past his professional demeanor. It's not successful, but Folly can sense the internal struggle.
"Paige. I had a long conversation with Paige that started with me telling her she shouldn't rush into marriage and then went a lot of other places after that. I -- we talked a little bit about your father. About where I stand with him." Folly looks down at her hands, now fidgeting with the throw-pillow. "I can tell you more about that conversation, if you want, but it might be better if we waited 'til you're done with this. Unless you think it's relevant."
She raises her head again and looks at Martin. She still looks a bit pale.
"Well," says Martin. "I was going to ask you to talk about any standout conversations. That qualifies. But you don't need to tell me all the details of what you and Paige said now or afterwards, not if you don't want to."
Folly offers a weak smile. "No, there's some stuff I should tell you -- but later."
He continues: "Anything else about Dad? Any other conversations that struck you as unusual?"
"Not really.... But I guess Jerod made a stray comment that kind of surprised me. He suggested that I could use my 'influence with Random' to get something done. I, uh, hadn't thought it was that obvious." Folly shrugs, looking a bit sheepish.
Martin nods yet again.
"And I told you about Gerard offering to adopt me. That was only obliquely about your dad, but Gerard did make the point that it wasn't so much your father's conduct toward me he was concerned about. There's been no final decision made about that, by the way."
Folly pauses, thinking, then says, "That's all the interesting ones I can remember."
"That's very good. What about me? I know you've talked to Jerod about me, and we're going to talk about that conversation with Paige later. Who else has wanted to talk about me and what kinds of things have they had to say?" Martin asks.
"Right." Folly looks grim. The trajectory of the questions is getting clearer to her by the minute. But she plows ahead, determined to spit out the facts with as much brutal, unfiltered honesty as she can manage without betraying any confidences.
"As I recall," she says, "in the last two weeks, I have had the 'yes, Martin is one of my closest friends, he's a very private person' conversation with three people -- if you count Merlin, who already knows you well enough that I didn't actually have to say the 'very private person' part in so many words.
"The first time was with Adonis, who after meeting you felt compelled to speculate whether you are comfortable with intimacy." She blinks and shakes her head slightly, struck by some sudden irony. "But I suspect that is just his way."
Martin shifts slightly, but keeps his expression under control.
"The second was with Merlin." She hesitates, trying to find some way to describe that conversation without betraying any confidences, finally settling on, "He was trying to understand the nature of your relationship with Paige. He also told me a few things about his boyhood, when I asked how he had met you."
Martin nods, slowly, once. "That's a complex situation. I'm not surprised that Merlin wanted to discuss it with you. If you want to talk about him later, we can. Or about other things he may have told you."
"Yeah, that -- that'd be good," Folly says. "There's a lot there that I'm still trying to understand, especially since --"
She shifts in her seat, a bit alarmed at how all the pieces are fitting together.
Martin is sitting on his responses very hard. "We'll discuss all that in a few minutes. For right now, just think about answering my questions. What other conversations have you had about me lately?"
"The third was with Aisling." Folly hesitates again. It is clear that her feelings about this third conversation are even more complex than those regarding her conversation with Merlin.
Folly now has Martin's full attention.
"There are two different and distinct parts to that conversation -- the content and the vibe. The content was partly what your duties were during the Sundering -- she also asked what you did during the war, but I'm not really a good source for that info and told her so -- and partly it was what you are like as a person. She wanted advice on how to approach you.
"The latter part is probably what gave the conversation that vibe -- it sort of reminded me of the conversation I had with Robin after you brought her back from her wanderings in Arden. I think a lot of people find you... intriguing. When that same vibe came up again with Aisling, it was almost funny, except that it got my guard up enough that I think I accidentally sort of maybe threatened her a little bit. Implied, not actual -- but I still feel kind of bad about it."
Another slow nod, as Martin digests all that. "Did Aisling tell you why she wanted to talk to me?" There's a definite hesitation before the pronoun.
"Not exactly, but...."
Folly's brow creases. "She did mention that you 'found' her. It was a play on words that I don't think she intended me to read much into, but I did anyway. From that, and from her tone, I think I could hazard a decent guess -- but it would just be a guess."
Martin nods one more time, chewing that over.
As if determined to end on a happier note, Folly adds, "And you've also come up in conversations with your father. I think he likes you."
That also gets Martin's full attention. Probably without him quite meaning to, he says, "really," which could be either a question or a statement from the tone.
"Really," Folly replies with a slight smile.
Martin straightens slightly in his seat and moves along. "We're almost done. Just a couple more questions. What kinds of conversations have you had with people about Vere since the army returned? Not counting anything Gerard may have said to you while you were talking about the wardship."
"Vere? He hasn't come up much." Folly gazes at a point on the far wall as she tries to remember, but then shakes her head. "I think I described him to Aisling in the litany of 'cousins you don't know yet'; but except for the occasional pointing-in-the-direction-of-Vere anytime anyone wants to know anything about anything, that's about it. There was the story Robin and Jovian told about the shit going down in Vere's homeland, but since Vere was one of the people they were telling the story to, that probably doesn't count."
"All right, last question, I think. What kinds of conversations have you had about Lucas lately, and with whom?" Martin says. He's definitely back on more of an even keel now.
The change in Martin's demeanor seems to have relaxed Folly, too, for she replies with a sly smile, "I don't run in a fashionable enough crowd to talk about Lucas."
She waits a beat and adds, more seriously, "The only time I recall him being mentioned at all was, again, in talking to Aisling. But she was already vaguely aware of him, so I didn't have much to add besides his parentage and... uh... wife-and-kidage."
Martin nods, this time decisively. "All right, we're done. For now, anyway. It's your turn to grill me, if you want."
He starts to reach out towards Folly's hand, but hesitates partway through the motion, and his hand ends up on the couch a few inches away from hers.
Folly immediately slides her hand over to close the distance. As her fingers touch his, he can feel that she is shaking; but she calms almost immediately upon taking his hand.
Martin clasps her hand tightly: not enough to hurt fingers, but enough to betray his own nerves.
After a moment, she asks, "So, what happened that prompted this line of questioning?" Then, as she recalls how the questions started: "Did something bad go down at the party?"
"That was ... interesting, but no, it's not what set me off. I've had three very interesting conversations in the last week that have centered on one of our--on Aisling. One with Merle, one with Cambina, and one with Jerod, just this evening. And I don't like how all these conversations are adding up. And I thought 'if I were a stranger here, who would I seek information about my kinsmen from?'. And 'if I were a spy trying to get at myself, who would I talk to?'. And so," Martin says, shrugging.
He squeezes Folly's hand again, gently. "Christ, I don't want you in the middle of this. I'm so sorry."
"It's OK," Folly says quietly. "It's really not such a bad place to be." She gives him a reassuring smile.
But the smile fades again as she considers the implications of Martin's words. "You -- you don't think she means you harm, do you?"
"I don't know," says Martin. "I know things about Aisling that Aisling may not want known. My best defense in that case is to make sure that Aisling doesn't have a chance to shut me up. She," and again there's that hesitation before the pronoun, "already tried to convince Merlin to shut up about some things she'd rather we didn't know about."
Folly frowns at that, but doesn't interrupt.
He lets out a breath. "And apparently Aisling wanted to get invited to the poker party. Went to Cambina and made a mild stink about it, and then went to Jerod. Jerod was not sympathetic, and Cambina had warned him beforehand, so he was less inclined than usual to be so. Then Aisling went back to Cambina, and, pretty as you please, made like it was something other than wanting to be invited to the poker party. Which it may have been, but it was manipulative either way. And now I hear that Aisliing has been coming to you asking you about the best way to approach me, about what kind of person I am, about what I did during the war."
He shrugs. "I was Grandfather's confidential agent. That's not exactly like being a spy, but close enough. Aisling was Madoc's spy here in Amber. When she says she knew about Jerod and Cambina, that's from living in the castle and spying on them. Dara and I caught her and Grandfather decided to let her try to turn over a new leaf. So hearing all these questions makes the back of my neck itchy, yes."
Folly gives Martin's hand a gentle squeeze, but it's an uneasy reassurance at best. She's now sitting hard on several reactions of her own -- and her poker face isn't as good as Martin's.
Martin looks at Folly. "It's not so much that I think Aisling wants to hurt me as that I think Aisling wants what Aisling wants, and to the Abyss with what I want or what it might cost me."
Folly's lips are pressed together in a thin line. "I suppose that's not totally incompatible with what I observed," she says slowly. "I thought -- and, granted, this was without knowing that she'd been checking up on you in other ways -- but I thought she seemed more... afraid of you, maybe, than threatening toward you. But maybe what you've said is exactly it -- maybe she's afraid you'll let things slip that she doesn't want other people to know. She was pretty up-front with me about being a spy, though."
"Honesty can be a lie, or at least a tactic, of its own," says Martin. "Think about how much information Aisling got out of you by telling you she'd been a spy." The hesitation in front of the pronoun still hasn't gone away. "And yet, for all that you know Aisling was 'a spy', I imagine you still have no idea what that means in practical terms."
"Well, yeah, I see your point," Folly says, "but on the other hand it's not like I told her anything I wouldn't've told her anyway. At least, I don't think I did."
Martin smiles tenderly at Folly. "Yeah, but you're an easy mark, my heart."
"Hey, I'm not that bad," Folly replies; but she smiles back, equally tenderly, and squeezes his hand gently.
After a moment, though, her thoughts return to the topic at hand, and she lets out a frustrated sigh. "I think Aisling really does want to turn over a new leaf and fit in here, but my god, she's getting off to a bad start."
"Arousing my suspicions, not to mention Merlin's, Cambina's, and Jerod's, is a pretty bad way to make your peace here in Amber," Martin agrees. "Aisling is wise to be afraid of me. Other than Bleys and Fiona--who are so far out of her league that they could crush her like a bug, so that her best hope is that they're preoccupied with their own business--I'm as knowledgeable about what she is as anyone here, with the possible exception of Merlin. Merlin she might intimidate into silence, especially if she can get rid of me."
Folly opens her mouth as if to protest, but then seems to decide against it.
Martin lets out another slow breath. "There's something else you haven't considered, that Aisling probably has. Aisling is in a situation right now where loyalty to Amber is a prudent course. That may not always be the case." He stops there, trying to figure out how to formulate the next sentence or two.
"What do you think I would do if I found out Aisling was working for the other side again?"
Folly looks at Martin as if she's reading him. Her own expression is difficult to decipher: it's not clear whether she's thinking about the answer to his question, or trying hard not to think about it. Martin can feel her hand tense in his.
What she says, finally, is: "Whose side is Dara on?"
"Her own, just like everybody else in this game. You know how Vialle thinks she knows what's best for everybody? Dara thinks she knows what's best the same way. She's just a hell of a lot more dangerous," Martin says.
"Vialle would never say anything so blatant as 'rid me of this troublesome niece', but she might hint around it until someone decided to do it for her. Dara would just get rid of whoever's in her way. Right now she's hurt: Merle left her for Corwin, and Corwin killed her father. She's angry, and unpredictable. She's also a kick-ass swordswoman, a brilliant sorceress, and an amazing shapeshifter. She has to get things back in Borel's domain under control, and then she's coming after Merle or Corwin, or both."
"Oh, yeah, that'll be fun," Folly says in a tone that implies just the opposite.
Martin squeezes her hand reassuringly. "But Merle's walked the Pattern now, which is the best defense he could have against her. She can kidnap him, but his integrity is defended. And discounting Corwin would be a mistake. So I think we can stymie her on that front."
"So she really could've.... Weird," Folly says, mostly to herself, as she adds these latest pieces to the puzzle.
Martin nods.
Whatever conclusion she draws gives her pause; she continues, hesitantly, "Merlin said you were around pretty much the whole time he was growing up. Were you --"
She hesitates and takes a deep breath before finishing, "Were you keeping Merlin safe from Dara?"
Martin gets the distinct sense it's not quite the same question she started to ask.
Martin looks at her for a moment, hard, as if trying to figure out what the unasked question was. He hesitates for a long moment before answering.
At first Folly meets his gaze with a slight reassuring smile, but after a moment she blushes and looks down at the floor, almost as if she's disappointed in herself. She continues staring at the floor as she listens quietly to his answer.
"He was safe from her then. Merle figured heavily in her plans for a long time, and she couldn't have taken anything from him without disrupting them. And she wanted things to work out with Corwin, who would have been kind of pissed off if she'd sucked the psyche out of his kid. And there was nothing useful Borel could have taken from him."
Martin pauses again and says, "What I was doing there was--complex. Dara and Borel wanted me there to keep things stable for Merle. Because I'm a Pattern initiate, I keep things around me ordered: space doesn't bend or collapse as much, time tends to go forward, air tends to stay breathable, etc. When Merle was an infant, they needed someone who could maintain that kind of a safety zone for him by being there 24-7. Not that they knew anything about human babies, or for that matter how to teach Merle how to be human enough to pass in Amber. And Borel still thought they could win me over to their side. So." He shrugs.
Folly nods thoughtfully, but doesn't interrupt. She's still staring at the floor -- but her body language, and the pressure of her fingers against his, reveal that she finds his narrative fascinating -- and perhaps also slightly disturbing.
"Grandfather wanted me there for a number of reasons: to maintain a open dialog with Dara so we could get or keep her on our side, to maintain stability for Merle and teach him to be human, because the effort I put into raising Merle would bind him to me and to Amber, and a bunch of other reasons I'm sure I don't completely understand.
"As for me: I was the only person who could do it, and it was the right thing to do. For a number of reasons." He shrugs again. "What was I supposed to do? I mean, he was a baby. Well, he wasn't even born yet when I took the job, but you know what I mean."
"Yeah, I know," Folly says, quietly and tentatively, like she's still taking it all in. But she lifts her gaze from the floor and gives Martin another reassuring smile. This time, she doesn't look away.
With his free arm, Martin reaches over and around Folly's waist, pulling her close, but not so strongly that she cannot resist if she wishes. At the first sign of resistance, he stops.
For a moment, Folly looks ready to crawl into his lap, but then she tenses. She ends up nestled against his side with her head leaning on his shoulder.
"You can ask me the other question," he says quietly.
He can feel more than hear her chuckle in response. "I think you already answered a little bit of it."
She releases Martin's hand and slides her arms around him; he can feel her heart pounding against his side.
After a moment, and a couple of deep, calming breaths, she says, "You know, I've become so protective of your privacy that I can hardly even bring myself to ask you things I might oughtta know." She chuckles again, quietly, but Martin also feels her tense up again.
Martin lets go of Folly's hand and tilts her chin up so he can look into her eyes. "You can ask me anything," he says, and it's as much prescription as description.
Folly gazes back at him for a long moment, taking comfort in his words, and his closeness. Then she takes a deep breath and begins:
"See, here's the thing: when I get little pieces of the puzzle, my mind automatically tries filling in the blank spaces with a picture -- or a bunch of possible pictures -- that would make sense with what I already know."
Folly hesitates, either gathering her thoughts or talking herself into continuing. Then: "From the few things you've said about Dara, and specifically about Dara and Corwin, I get the sense that your Grandfather was sort of... engineering... that relationship. And I wondered whether... well, whether he maybe tried using you first for that purpose, to... to attract Dara to the side of Amber."
Martin lets out a long breath and begins stroking Folly's back.
"Dara sought me out before I met Grandfather. I met her not long after--" he pauses then, for a moment. "Well, you know."
Folly doesn't say anything in response, but she leans her head against his shoulder for a moment.
"I was near Benedict's realm when it happened, and I tried to lose myself in Shadow. I overextended myself, and she found me while I was delirious. She took care of me until I was better. She was--very kind to me.
"But she asked me a lot of questions about Amber, and the Pattern, and my Trumps, the deck Benedict had given me. She made Brand out to be a hero, which would have pissed me off more if I'd been strong enough to be good and mad. But it was a successful tactic: she got a lot of information about Llew and Benedict, and some about Gerard." Martin shakes his head.
"She nursed me back to health and fled in the night to keep me from following her. The Black Road was already in that part of Shadow; she was traveling on it, and I had no way to go after her. Dad already knows all this; I told him and Corwin as much. Corwin asked me if I'd ever seen her again, and I know I fumbled that answer."
Martin pauses for a moment and pushes his hair back from his face before continuing. "Which was OK; sometimes exposing a small lie covers a bigger one. What I didn't tell him was that Grandfather already had his eye on Dara, and contacted me not long afterwards. He recruited me to explore the Black Road and do--other things."
His expression shifts, then, and he seems troubled. "I met with Dara again, later, and she attempted to recruit me to her side again. I knew more then about what was what, and the factional divisions among our enemies: Borel, Madoc, and the redheads. Part of my job was to keep the offer of a position on our side open, as I've said."
Martin slows, then, as if considering his words carefully. "Dara was already--fixated--on Corwin by that time. I don't know if that was Grandfather's doing or whether it just happened and he adapted his plans to deal with it. We were friends then, at first. It was only later that we came to loathe each other." His expression flattens and his lips press together into a thin line.
"After Merle came to young manhood it became too unsafe for me to remain at Borel. Borel had come to hate me with a passion, and that meant the very ground I stood on hated me. Enough years of that and you start--slipping." Martin's fingers tighten a little as he speaks.
Reflexively, Folly reaches up and strokes Martin's hair, her growing concern visible in her eyes.
He says the next few sentences very slowly, looking into Folly's eyes: "Grandfather had another mission for me then: he wanted me to find Bleys and get him to switch sides again. He sent me to the trade city of Heerat, where he thought Bleys' daughter had settled after the failure of Bleys' and Corwin's assault on Amber."
Martin takes in a breath then. "Next question?"
Folly looks at Martin. He can almost see the rational and emotional parts of her mind fighting for control of the conversation.
"An amazing shapeshifter, a kick-ass swordswoman -- and you lived in her household through all of Merlin's childhood." Folly swallows, hard. "How well does she know you? Could she --"
Folly's brows draw together in a concerned frown. "Do you think she's good enough to fool your father?"
Martin closes his eyes. "Dara doesn't know who I am; she knows who I was, then. I've changed, some. But," and his fingers tighten around Folly's arm as his eyes open again, "it's probably enough to fool Dad for a, an attempt--" he trails off.
Involuntarily, Folly lets out a soft grunt of worry.
"I, I mean, Dad spent that last little while before he left trying to get to know me, between things he was doing for Grandfather--" and he winces, aware of how lame it sounds. "And, y'know, he moved me down to stay by him so we could see each other more often," which wasn't what he wanted to say either.
After another moment, he says, "I mean, he's only known me for what, six weeks or so from his point of view. I, I think he knows me pretty well for someone who's only known me for six weeks," Martin says hopefully, looking at Folly, wide-eyed and a little chagrined.
Her own expression softens. Gently, tenderly, she reaches up and cradles his cheek in her hand. "He's certainly figured out you're worth knowing," she says, and offers a tiny smile of reassurance.
A vaguely pained expression crosses Martin's face and he looks away for a moment. Then, he lets it go and stops digging. "I don't think Dara could pull me off for very long; there are too many people who would catch her. She doesn't know enough about how I get along with the rest of the family, for one thing. But Dara can do a decent job of imitating someone she's had a chance to observe; I've seen her do it. She could get past the guards here, armed."
Folly's eyes widen in alarm. The gears of her mind are turning, fast.
Martin pauses for a moment, then says hurriedly: "Unless she got total surprise on him, I'm pretty sure Dad could at least hold her off until he could get help. I mean, anybody can be gotten with enough prep work, but Dad's wily and lucky. And I've sparred with him; he's no slouch either. So, y'know, don't worry."
He's clearly following her train of thought down a track he doesn't like at all.
"It's not just your dad we've got to worry about, though," Folly says. She looks very pale.
"She thought Brand was a hero. Presumably, if she... nursed you back to health, she's got an idea what he was up to, and why. What if she --"
She stops abruptly, her eyes full of sorrow and fear at the reminder of what Brand did to Martin. For a moment Martin is not sure she's going to be able to continue. Her hand steals to his cheek again as she struggles not to cry.
Martin pulls her closer, onto his lap, and strokes her hair. It doesn't disguise the sudden change in the rhythm of his own breath.
She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. When she opens them again, she continues in a voice almost chillingly devoid of emotion, "Maybe Dara is not a vengeful person. But if she is....
"Corwin just killed her father. Corwin knows where there's a Pattern. Corwin is, as far as I can tell, a total sucker when it comes to women. If I didn't have faith that Jerod could recognize his own damn sister, I would probably be panicked right now, instead of merely very, very concerned."
Folly shivers violently and looks into Martin's eyes, desperately hoping he'll tell her she's got it all wrong.
"No," says Martin, and he sounds very sure of himself. "For a number of reasons. I don't know how she could know about the Pattern. Corwin leads with his dick but even he isn't that dumb twice. Besides, to pull off Valeria would require either more knowledge than Dara could possibly have, unless she were working with my grandmother. I don't see that, and if I did, Corwin wouldn't be the target."
Folly slowly lets out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, and relaxes a little.
He continues: "There are too many uncontrolled variables; if you're going to do an insertion like that, you pick someone inconspicuous. There are no inconspicuous people on this trip. Not Valeria, not Bend and Montage, and not the senior flunkies they have with them. There are too many people who'd catch a slip too fast. So that's not it; it's just some kind of cosmic coincidence."
"You know, normally I like coincidences," Folly says with a grim smile.
But she's convinced. Dara is obviously still a threat, but she's probably not the immediate threat Folly suspected. The fear-induced tension flows out of her, but is immediately replaced by tension of an entirely different nature.
She settles lightly against Martin's chest, letting her head droop against his shoulder.
"So, Heerat," she continues as her fingertips absently trace the curve of his shoulder. "How -- how long ago was that, -ish?"
Martin shifts slightly as Folly settles, sliding back further on the couch to give her a better lap to sit on.
"Um," he says, thinking, "seven or eight years before I came to Amber, maybe. So, what, fifteen or sixteen years? I don't track the years that closely. Hazard of living forever and variable shadow timeflows."
His breathing is a little uneven.
If he is touching any of the exposed skin on Folly's arm, he feels it prickle suddenly with gooseflesh.
There is some deliberateness in her voice as she responds, "Yeah, from what Merlin said, I figured --"
Martin draws in a breath as if about to say something...
Mid-sentence, Folly's breath catches in her throat, audibly. Her fingers tighten against Martin's shoulder.
...but decides not to.
She clears her throat and starts again down a slightly different path: "So you went to Heerat and you found Bleys's daughter. Did you --"
She pauses again, but this time it's more reflective than startled. "I don't know quite what to ask," she says after a moment. "Maybe you should just tell me the story."
"I always wonder when you ask me to tell you a story whether I'm telling you the story you need to hear or the story I want to tell you," says Martin. He looks a little flushed.
"So, Grandfather said Bleys' daughter was in Heerat, and gave me a name and a description and some background on what she'd been doing in Amber. The way we operated, I was very independent. He didn't give me a plan for how to get in touch with Paige and convince her to get me in touch with Bleys or anything. He just told me 'here she is, I want to talk to Bleys, go fix it'."
The flush is beginning to spread from his cheeks.
Folly has grown very still, watching and listening.
"So, um, I had to figure out how to find a woman who was likely to be as strong and tough as I was, maybe a sorceress, who was known to have a fondness for exclusive clubs that cater to wealthy gentlemen. Um ..."
It may be the first time Folly's ever seen Martin turn quite that shade.
Her brows draw together in deep concern.
He takes a deep breath and spits it out, rushing through it as if he might not be able to finish, at least not before he's complelely beet-red. "I fucked my way through every high-class bordello in Heerat, okay? And I found her in one of them."
Folly's eyes grow very wide. She claps her hand over her mouth and starts to shake...
...and then erupts in a fit of giggles.
"Oh... I'm... I'm sorry, sweetie," she manages to gasp between chuckles, "it's... it's really not funny. It's just... I was afraid it was going to be something really bad. Instead, it's just...."
She chews her bottom lip and wipes at her cheeks with the heel of her hand. "Well, OK, it is kind of funny. But I promise not to tease you about it. Or... I promise to try really hard not to. Or...."
She trails off, sure she's digging herself into a terrible hole, and looks apologetically at Martin.
Martin has bowed his head and closed his eyes, and Folly can almost feel the heat radiating off his cheeks.
Fortunately, he's a tough guy, so he doesn't seem likely to actually die of embarrassment.
"Well," he finally grumbles, "It seemed like a good idea at the time. And it worked."
Folly takes a deep, ragged breath and brings her laughter under control.
In a voice full of remorse and apology, she replies, "Yes -- it was, and it did." Gently, she strokes his cheek with her thumb; her skin feels cool against his.
"No, it wasn't," Martin says, low and quiet. "It was a horrible idea. For all sorts of reasons. The fact that it worked doesn't change that."
He turns his head to look at Folly. "I feel like I'm violating her confidence by telling you all this, even though I know you won't hold it against her." He reaches up with his right hand, and takes the hand on his cheek. Folly can see the end of a mostly-healed scratch on his wrist, extending down his arm into his sleeve.
"No, of course I won't," Folly says, gently but firmly. "But you don't have to tell me anything you think crosses the line of 'other people's secrets.'"
"Then I'll have no secrets to tell you at all," Martin says, with a quirk of the corner of his mouth. He continues: "Tease me about it if you must, but don't say anything to her. And certainly don't say anything to anyone else; I'm sure there are people who have suspicions about what she used to do, but no one in Amber can prove it. Her reputation's in tatters already. I won't have anyone saying she came to town as my whore and left as Julian's son's."
Martin's cheeks have resumed something closer to their normal color.
A brief stricken look flashes across Folly's face in response to that last comment.
"No, I won't say anything," she replies. "She occasionally makes oblique reference to what she used to do, so I'd pieced some of it together, but...." She trails off and shrugs, then looks into Martin's eyes. "I'm not gonna tell anyone else about it. I wanna protect her, too."
Abruptly, she drops her gaze to her lap, as if she feels suddenly awkward. Her fingers tighten around his.
"So, I, uh.... You should probably know that I... I told her, a little, how I feel about you." She swallows, and then spits the rest out in a rush: "I knew that if she paid the slightest attention to the way I look at you, she'd know immediately, and I thought it would hurt less if I warned her first. She -- she seemed OK about it, mostly."
Martin raises his head and pulls Folly closer again. "I was gonna tell her myself if you hadn't. If we're going to be together, people are going to have to get used to it, even the ones who aren't going to be very comfortable. Nobody who wants you to be happy would want you to put your own life off forever for their sake."
The barest hint of melancholy flashes behind Folly's eyes; but it is quickly outstripped by far happier thoughts. She settles against Martin's chest again and slides her arms around him.
Martin lets out a slow, happy breath. When he speaks again, Folly can hear a hint of a smile in his voice. "I'm glad you told her. I don't think she'll blame you. She shouldn't; the problems she and I had have nothing to do with you, were there before I ever met you."
"Yeah, that's -- that was one of the things Merlin brought up," Folly says, hesitantly. "That you quarreled over... over his education. Over who should tutor him."
"Yeah," says Martin, some of the life going out of his voice. "That."
He takes up his tale again, stroking Folly's hair gently. "When I found Paige, I wasn't expecting her to be so--well, how she is. She's tough, but she's also really fragile, y'know? I could have strongarmed her, threatened her, whatever. I thought I might have to, before I met her, but I didn't want to. I didn't want to hurt her."
Folly nods. That part she really, really gets.
"When Bleys and I talked that first time, we discussed a lot of things, things that neither one of us wanted her to hear. Family business. He knew about--me--and I think it kind of scared him, what Brand had done. What Brand might do again. The lesson had to be clear: there are things you don't do. Amnesty for Bleys and Fiona and their kids. But not for Brand. Nothing for Brand."
Martin's fingers find purchase in Folly's hair, not painfully, but definitely. "I never told her. I couldn't make myself do it. It was stupid, and it cost us everything, or maybe it broke us before we began. We didn't talk about any of that, or my work, or anything. Just went wherever it was taking us."
For a moment, Folly closes her eyes and presses her lips together in a grim, sad little half-smile, full of sympathy.
"I brought Merle across one time when I was visiting him. I wasn't going to Borel, but he wasn't stuck there, and we'd meet sometimes so I could be sure he was OK. I thought--I hoped--that he'd come over to our side when all this was over, and come to Amber. Paige can get along with people when she tries, so I thought she'd be a good person to start with. And it turned out he had a gift with cards, so she taught him to read and then to paint them. He was really good, too, so eventually she decided he needed more teaching than she could give him, and she wanted to turn him over to Brand."
Martin stops there, as if he can't quite quite bring himself to continue.
Folly's arms tighten around him, offering comfort. Tentatively, she asks, "Was he... still around then?"
"He was visiting, yes, but he wasn't--present when we argued. She kept pushing me and I just, just couldn't. She could tell how mad I was, though, and she just kept pushing."
Martin's breath has gone a little uneven again.
Folly lets out a quiet, sympathetic sound and resumes petting Martin's shoulder.
"I walked out, finally. I dunno what I would have done, but I couldn't stay there and listen to her any more. I went--away--and got really, really wasted. Stupid, dangerous thing to do, too. If anyone had been following Merle, a grackleflint or something, it'd've had a free shot at me."
Folly shivers.
Martin takes a moment to reorder his thoughts before continuing. "She came after me. We patched things up, some. I told her everything, then. About--Brand--and Bleys and what they'd done. What we'd agreed to. And she saw it the way I was afraid she was gonna see it, that it was all about a lever on her dad and keeping an eye on her and finding wherever Brand was holed up.
"I'm not sure she believed me. She cried a bunch and told me she hated me.
"I let her take Merle home, or as far as she could take him, anyway. He could use enough sorcery once he got near Ygg to make it home from there. I wasn't sure she was going to be able to stand the sight of me when she got back, so I moved out of our digs and found my own place. She went back to her home shadow for a while. We just didn't touch it.
"Merle kept trying to get us back together, but he doesn't know from romance." Martin smiles, a little ruefully. "It was kind of cute, in an absurd sort of way. We did start back up later, but we had other people by then, and we didn't want to mess with the sore spot. At least I didn't.
"Eventually Grandfather said Dad was looking for me, so I had to bail so he could find me. I made sure Paige got to Amber when everybody was ingathering, right before I went and got you. I guess you know the story from there."
"More-or-less, yeah," Folly says quietly. She sounds like she's still taking it all in.
She falls into a contemplative silence for a moment, then says, "Poor Merle. I think he's convinced it's all his fault, somehow." She pauses, then continues, hesitantly, "That's part of why I kind of freaked out when he... y'know, put you to sleep or whatever. I was afraid he might be trying to... to fix something he didn't break, y'know?"
Martin shakes his head, and, perhaps realizing that the gesture may not be obvious, says, "No, I don't think so. That kind of--coercion--isn't something he'd try to practice on me, I think. I don't think he wants me as an affine."
"Well, that's -- good to know," Folly says, slowly. "Uh, just what is an affine, anyway? You used the term when I was trying to explain Fathom to Merlin, but... it's not completely analogous with 'pet', is it?"
"It's kind of like a vassal, like the oath we'll take to Dad later today. Except in the Courts, things are different. You survive by being a creature of free will, putting your will on the universe, and on other creatures. When you take an affine, which is pretty much what defines you as a lord of Chaos, you agree to protect your affine, and it agrees to serve you, accepting your will completely. If you have an affine and tell it to jump off the proverbial cliff, it will. If you say 'be happy', it will. If you say 'I want to eat you for lunch', it'll offer you dipping sauces," Martin says.
"Pretty much everybody in Chaos is a lord or an affine. Sharks or minnows."
Folly chuckles at the 'dipping sauces' comment and nods her understanding before falling into contemplative silence once more. Her fingertips press against Martin's shoulder, not painfully, but with an urgency that betrays the disquieting nature of her thoughts.
After a few minutes, she says hoarsely, "So, Brand was still at large at the point that you made contact with Bleys, then?"
"I don't know. I'm not really clear on the timeline on his end," Martin says. "I guess it was after Corwin and the rest rescued him. I know they tried to lock him up and ended up not being able to keep him."
Folly lets out a long, slow breath.
"I was just kind of curious," she says. "I mean, I'm now surrounded by uncles, not one of whom has stepped forward to say, 'Hey, daughter, I was wondering when you'd turn up....' Which might not mean anything, of course, but it makes you wonder."
She lets out a short, bitter laugh. "That might be too much irony even for me. It'd make a hell of a ballad, though."
Martin starts to say something, then stops. If Folly can see his face, she sees that it has taken on an odd expression.
She sits up so she can look into his eyes; her own expression is concerned and questioning and perhaps slightly alarmed. She doesn't say anything, but waits to see whether he will give voice his thoughts.
He reaches out and touches the side of her face, very gently. His expression is somewhat conflicted, but he doesn't say anything immediately.
Folly's eyes close as she tilts her head ever-so-slightly to meet his hand. For a moment, she is almost completely still, her full concentration on the feel of his fingers against her face; but then she brings her own hand up to guide his, slowly, along her cheek and her jaw.
Her eyes flutter open again. "It doesn't really matter, I suppose," she says quietly. "No matter who my father is, I'm still just me."
She almost sounds like she's trying to convince herself.
Martin closes his eyes. "No," he says a little raggedly, "it doesn't matter. Not to me."
He feels the muscles along her jaw tighten as she smiles. She draws his hand against her mouth and tenderly kisses his palm.
The breath he's drawing in almost becomes a gasp in response to the unexpected touch of her lips on his hand.
At the sound, Folly freezes, still holding his hand to her face. He can feel her breath, warm and uneven, against his palm. After a moment, her fingers start to tremble. She makes a tiny sound, almost a whimper, and abruptly stands up and begins pacing around the room, alternately rubbing the back of her neck and crossing her arms across her stomach and pushing the loose tendrils of hair out of her face, like she's not quite sure what to do with her hands.
"So, yeah, I... uh... I told Paige about us, but I couldn't quite bring myself to tell your father. Not yet. I really wanted to, though."
Martin opens his eyes as she stands up, starts to say something, but lets Folly start speaking instead. At her words, he shrugs.
"You'll do it when you're ready," he says, a touch too flatly.
He thinks about it for a moment. "Do you want me to tell him?"
Folly stops pacing. She's silent for a long moment, but then says, "No. I think I need to do it."
She comes back to the couch and sits down beside him. She suddenly looks very tired. "And I am ready," she says, sounding a bit apologetic, or maybe defensive. "I just.... I don't know. I only really had one chance to talk to him while you were away, and I couldn't come up with a way to say it that didn't seem... cruel, I guess. But I know I have to do it, and soon."
"Do you think he's going to take it that badly?" Martin says, his game face not quite hiding his concern.
Folly shrugs. "It wasn't so much that I thought he'd take it so badly as that...." She pauses, trying to figure out how to put it.
"As crazy as these last two weeks have been --" She pauses again. "He seemed glad to be able to talk about nothing-in-particular for a while, y'know? I just couldn't quite bring myself to turn it into something else that might add to all the stress."
"I'm glad he got a chance to relax with you," Martin says. "He said he'd like to do some father-son stuff with me when he was bringing me back to Amber, but we never got around to it."
Folly opens her mouth to respond, but then seems to think the better of it. Instead she just nods.
After a moment, she asks, "Have you had a chance to talk to him since you got back?"
"We talked this morning while we were transporting the cash. Man, that was a lot of gold. I'm glad I had Merle with me to help with the heavy lifting. A friend who can help lessen gravity is really useful sometimes." Martin grins.
"Mostly what we talked about, when we weren't grunting about the heavy boxes, was Merle and the Paris thing, though. Business talk."
Folly nods. "Did he tell you that our... uh... secret mission starts pretty much as soon after the Masque as we can swing it?"
"He mentioned that he didn't want me hanging around like a slacker, yeah.
"He didn't put it quite that way," Martin adds hastily, "but that's what I think he meant."
Folly grins. "Sneaking a nap in between the Masque and our departure will probably be OK, though, right? We'll see how dead-on-my-feet I am by tomorrow night. Or, uh, tonight. Whichever way you count it. But as long as I'm awake enough not to fall off the horse, I'm ready to go whenever you are."
There's an eagerness in her voice that belies how tired she is.
"You can come nap in my suite between the dedication and the masquerade if you like," Martin offers. "Have the servants move the costumes down there and we can even get dressed together. I've got a bunch of rooms to myself and a bed almost as big as Paige's down at the Prince. You could be asleep in it and never know I was there."
Folly smiles and blushes slightly. "Yeah, I -- I like that plan."
Martin waggles his eyebrows in response to Folly's blush. "I see someone's been warning you about my bad reputation. Don't worry, sweetheart. I don't bite, unless you want me to."
Folly's smile gets bigger and her blush gets deeper. "I'll keep that in mind," she says, and laughs.
He laughs too, and stands up. "I should go," he says. "It'll be dawn in a while and the guards saw me come up to the castle, so I'm sure I'll get a wake-up call. I probably better be in my own bed, not yours. As tempting as the latter idea might be."
Folly nods, like she's equally tempted by the idea. "We'll be away from the overly-helpful castle staff soon enough, I suppose," she says, and grins. Then she, too, rises, and walks him the few steps to the door.
Before opening the door, she slides her arms around his waist and smiles up at him. "G'night," she says. "See you at the Coronation."
"Yeah," Martin says, giving her a squeeze in response. "See you there. Probably not so much, because Gilt's herding me off with Dad and Vialle. I'll be standing next to Dad for the whole thing. If nothing else, there's always tonight."
He kisses the top of her head.
Folly smiles up at him for another long moment, nods, and reluctantly opens the door.
Martin lets her go, with equal reluctance, and steps out into the hallway. He looks back at Folly, says, "Always, babe," and is gone.
Only after the last echoes of his footsteps have died away does she finally shut the door.
Last modified: 6 April 2003