Meanwhile, Back In Rebma...

A note arrives in Celina's chambers. Celina's triton Orseas brings the sealed missive to her.

Celina thanks Orseas with a nod. "And wait, just a moment. There may be something that needs answer quickly." She turns to a side desk of necessities and a small silver blade separates the sap seals and she reads.

My Dearest Ward,

It seems Valeria's mission has been fruitful beyond all expectations. A foreign emissary has arrived and should reach the castle within the hour. You shall attend me when he is brought before the Sapphire Throne.

Moire,
R.

It is sealed with her seal and written in the neat hand of her secretary, Livia.

"Within the hour?" Celina's heels rise a fingerswidth from the cool marble floor in excitment. "And she is in the daycourt now--three galleries away." She knows it is unacceptable to rush about the public ways of the palace. She needs to set out now. One part of her mind craafts an image of what she is going to wear, yet Carina shouldn't worry.

"Orseas, there is no return message, but I cannot make my afternoon with the Lady of the Sandy Seafloor. Please take my regrets to Corina. Thank you." She smiles him out.

[Meta: Tritons almost never speak if they can help it. He would expect you to write a message.]

Celina pauses long enough to write up a lovely little note, but the wise Carina will see the haste in the calligraphy.

Then strides a wake into her long closet, there to page through the hanging foil sleeves of court attire. Her thoughts brush layers back from the sparse message. The queen will expect her to be on time and dressed to anticipate.

Foreign emissary, not Seaward, and not scheduled. Celina skipped over the transparent robes and warm colors favored by the Seaward nobles.

Valeria. She's usually doing a dozen things at once. What sort of trip was she on? Cold current, she's been gone a while! Celina switched to the right side of her closet, where formal attire was stored. She quickly slipped her hand into a foil envelope and withdrew a beaded robe of near-black green.

She shook it once to check the press of the sleeve had not caught or folded the hem or closures. Perfect.

A moment later she was out of her tanga and into the robe. A minute more in front of the mirror as she adjusted the squibpoints to cling to the curves of her body from navel to neck and she was out the door, twisting the shield low on the lantern as she closed up.

Gliding quick-step as only a member of the court could, she made a squid-line for the Daycourt gallery.

The palace is awash in activity, many people "not rushing", but intent on their own errands and duties. Loreena and Rilsa are already in the gallery when Celina arrives, and Celina sees Livia slip back behind a curtain veil. Everyone is there. Even Droit has dragged himself out of Amber's embassy to see this.

Celina walks towards the dais and the place that is unofficially but indisputably her spot for formal court receptions such as this. Moments after she reaches it, she sees the Queen entering from behind the dais. The assembled notables bow towards her majesty and she nods in return. The Queen is dressed for a formal audience, bedecked with jewels and carrying the Coral Scepter.

Two tritons at the far end of the gallery open the massive double doors, their muscles straining to pull the stone doors and the water. As they open wide enough, a stranger walks in, followed by two officers of the Coldstream Guards. The soldiers, Celina thinks, are part honor escort and part guards.

Celina eyes the newcomer most sharply, wondering at everything about him, noting that his attire is odd even for a stranger.

The stranger stops short, some distance from the dais, and quite close to Celina. He bows in some foreign fashion, awkwardly, as if he is not well versed in the manners of his own court. He looks as if he has traveled hard and far and, given the state of his garb, has slept in his clothing. [META: Casting: James Garner, from the Rockford Files era]

"Your Majesty, I am William Roth of Paris. I bring you greetings and messages from our King, Carl, uh Corwin." He pulls a sealed packet out of his belt and one of the officers takes it from him and hands it to Livia.

"We thank you, William Roth, and welcome you to Rebma. However, we are confused. Is your King Corwin the same Corwin who was Prince of Amber?" Her voice flows like cold water over silk.

Celina does not shiver at the cold current in her voice and doubts entirely that she is really confused. Perhaps she is annoyed.

Bill nods, then quickly speaks. "Yes, Your Majesty. He is there attending the coronation of the King of that place even now. I'm pretty sure he wrote about it in that message."

Moire looks at them, noticing the symbols on them. "We find this quite intriguing, William Roth. However, you must be wearied from your travels." The Queen turns her head and spots her steward, Philippa. "Show him to quarters, Philippa, where he can refresh himself."

She rises to leave and, as she reaches the door, she says "Rilsa, Loreena, Celina. Attend me." She steps out and the room boils over into scores of discussions amongst ambassadors, courtiers, functionaries, and nobles of the court.

Celina holds back the sigh that wants to escape behind a court smile. When Queen Moire includes her so quickly in front of her kin, it just makes things more difficult with them. At least she was named last.

She follows in exactly the order named, even to proportion of the pause between names, so that she is trailing Loreena's wake by half a step.

Moire is in a small retiring room off the grand hall. She has, inside a bubble of air, a letter signed and sealed by Corwin. Her three advisors all read it.

When it's clear they have done so, she says "Opinions?" She looks from daughter to granddaughter to ward. "Celina?"

"The Duchess is very successful it would seem, your Majesty," Celina offers immediately. "The prince either likes her on first look, or likes the fact that Rebma takes a strong hand and he can steer that hand to something he cares to pursue--which may include good memories of Rebma."

And that's as close as Celina is going to come to saying that Moire's garden might have left a lasting impression on this former Prince.

Loreena looks at Celina, coolly. "He baits us, but more subtly than I would have expected from him."

Celina holds still under Loreena's gaze. Again and again the royal kin of Moire examine her like a mussel slightly oversteamed. She seethes with it and yet Celina must endure in order to learn.

Rilsa nods. "We should ignore that aspect. I see he takes special care to mention the princes and our kinswoman. What do you think it means, Mother, that he specified the coronation of Random in Amber?"

Good counsel, Celina thinks. Rilsa seems to understand the sender well.

Wait.

'King Random in Amber' as opposed to 'King Random of Amber'? Perhaps a poet's turn of phrase? Didn't Carina show her poems by Corwin of Amber?

Moire looks at the letter and does not hesitate. "It means he knows that Amber will fall. Lir! How could that wretch have been chosen?" Moire looks away, and the currents that float towards you from her seem to be very cold.

Almost she speaks, curiousity driving her lips apart before her training closes them again. Celina swallows and thinks the TaKhi, breathing through her nose. That question will wait, she won't be drawn into such things in front of Loreena and Rilsa.

Say nothing then. Celina smiled gently and sent sympathy back into the waves of cold being generated by She.

And all men aren't wretches, so which wretch draws Her ire? The sender? Unlikely. Though Her Majesty certainly could sleep with a Wretch for cause---nothing indicates that such was the case. If King Corwin knows that Amber will fall, and goes to attend King Random "in" Amber, then it follows that Random is King in Amber.

Litte starfish! Not King "of" Amber. Yet he -is- King of Amber. No, not if Amber falls. If Corwin knows it falls, then he believes Random will be King still.

Random is the Wretch. Chosen. Killer of Morganthe. King now and moreso - even if Amber falls - King of what then?

Oh. Moire snarls--Random is intended as EverKing of That Which Emerges When Amber Falls. Poor thing, the Queen pincered between Love of LostChild and Need of Realm. Her back turned to the others, Celina nibbles her lower lip. Rebma must survive.

Celina moves closer to a table near Moire, where she practices steady hand and twists the cap off of a molten incendiary stone that immediately hisses at the chill current. She leans over the side table. Touching the incendiary to an open bowl of incense oil, Celina restores the stone's cover. "It seems chill. I hope Her Majesty won't mind a bit of relaxing scent."

Moire nods absently.

[Celina] turns back to the triad of thinkers.

"Agreed," says the Queen. "We don't know enough to act. Rilsa, you're to see what ripples are stirred by his arrival, including who he speaks to and who they speak to."

Rilsa nods. Rilsa often gets the intelligence assignments.

"Loreena, prepare an expedition. A trading expedition. You won't determine final cargo status for a few days. Only luxury goods that can be carried up the stair. I want one of our trusted people back here after a day to report to us what she has found."

She looks at her ward. "Sir William is your assignment, Celina. You're juniormost, so it fits his rank best without dishonoring his King. Show him around our fair city, be generally helpful, and find out what he wants."

"Of course, Your Majesty." Celina responds.

Rilsa smiles, wanly. "I'm sure you'll do a good job. He should think of us as friends, after all."

Loreena doesn't look convinced.

Celina nods to acknowledge Rilsa's comment.

"Sir William looked fagged, I'll give him time to rest, then provide a private dinner where he can learn the necessity of pleasant dining under water." She measures a weak smile from the senior and open disbelief from the younger royalkin. If the Duchess knows something about Sir William (or Prince Corwin), she obviously isn't sharing.

There were far too many ways to take Rilsa's comment. Celina decides, as always, to put the best face on it. She chides herself in passing for not anticipating drawing the black pearl on this chore.

Tour the topsider through Rebma.
Find out what he wants.
Make friends.

Ah well, at least Sir William seemed old enough to know which end of a jellyfish to hold. The secret would be to make it all so not a chore.

[Celina waits for Moire's anticipated dismissal of Her council. Leaves in proper order, allowing Rilsa and Loreena to precede her.]

Then she glides off through galleries to prepare for her tasks.

A quick series of scenes.

Her rooms:
"Orseas, be a dear and take this note to the PilotSteward of Intimate Galleries. I'd like to reserve the Silver Slate Room for a small dinner." Celina touches his hand lightly as she passes the sealed note. "And perhaps you would not mind being within bellstrike in case I need you? If you are so willing, Orseas, go ahead and get your dinner before you return here."

[Orseas response, and if he agrees.]

"A kindness to me. Thank you."

Her preparation:
Celina selects a transparent cowled gown less formal: silver net fine enough to be mistaken for a mist--over an emerald tanga. She squibs emerald covers to her nails, not entertaining for a moment the toxin edged variety waiting in the covered tray beside the ones she uses now. She spends more time on her hair, twisting it up into braids for dinner. She forgoes jewelry, trying to put the emissary at his ease.

Her timing:
She stops at the LadySteward of Necessities precinct to listen as that worthy describes what has been provided for Sir William's stay and comfort. If nothing is amiss, Celina will thank the LadySteward and allow one of the runnerboys to escort her to Sir William's quarters, where she will present herself to squire the emissary to dinner.

Bill greets her at the door and bows to her. He has on a different shirt, cleaner but no less rumpled. They may be the only two that he has. "Your Highness," he says, confidently and incorrectly.

Celina pauses, little starfish, the man has no sense of presentation. Does he think I'm of the Throne's blood? How strange for a man to not care about his appearance. Or does he iamgine that we don't know the difference down here?

"Sir William. The Queen sends Her Respect." Celina nods to his bow.

She thought to chat privately for a bit in his rooms, but if they are as rumpled as his clothing, it would be just too comic and dear. A smile might slip unintended. A lady never insults a guest unintentionally--and the Queen's instructions leave no such room for trampling fragile male ego.

"I'd be delighted to escort you to dinner, now that you've had a chance to rest. We could talk about your portfolio, if you wish. Or I might suggest beauties of Rebma you should have time to see. And tonight, we shall make every effort to ease your transition to our world. Please call me Celina. Or your ladyship, if you really think I'm being too forward."

She smiles. "The usage 'Your Highness' is only for the Queen's own sister, Princess Llewella. Not to worry. I'm sure I'll say some things that will sound awkward to you and I'd appreciate your understanding. Ask me questions about anything you don't understand and I'll try to find answers. We'll help each other smooth over the rest."

She offers her left hand. "Shall we?"

"I appreciate the kindness, your ladyship." He takes her hand and places it on his arm. "Paris is...more rough-hewn than your city. Things mostly go the way Carl wants them to, with very little precedent. I guessed that you were a Princess based on the way the Queen called you. And on your bearing."

Celina flushes with pleasure. "You are quite kind." She squeezes his arm.

"No. I am the Queen's ward, and have a position that She created to keep me close at hand. I studied history, music, and polycultural sciences as a girl--and the Queen likes to test Herself against my book learning."

"But tell me about Paris. Rough-hewn means 'carved', doesn't it? And who is Carl? Is he a minister in charge of the city or envoys? Or a parliment?"

"Forgive me, Carl was what the King called himself when I met him. He was living incognito in a country that had thrown off their own King a few centuries before. I was his lawyer."

Celina tries very hard not to react to "thrown off their own king".

"Paris. Paris is new. Almost every day something or someone arrives or someone sets out to make something. Alice and I just sort of wandered into it. I knew a little about Ca-Corwin from before, so I assumed he'd had something to do with it. 'Not consciously' he said, but he was pleased to see us."

"When a King is glad to see an old friend, this is no small thing." Celina smiles, listening to the rhythms of Sir Williams words. She sets the word 'Alice' aside in a special place in her thoughts.

Celina glides at a comfortable walk, studying Sir William's interesting face as he accompanies, so reminding her of his clothing: rumpled edges and plain intent.

And soon, the Silver Slate Room is there.

If Orseas stands without, Celina will smile at him, knowing all is ready. [If Orseas is not there--Celina will stop Sir William, asks him to pause a moment, and check the room herself before she allows her guest within.]

She will incline her head to Orseas and escort William inside, showing him the 'casual' arrangements. A sideboard of delectibles, which they may serve themselves, buffet style.

To one side of the sideboard, a metallic spiral of loops sweeps up from the floor, holding bottles of beverage. It is a pleasant sculpture of light filagree work, but presents the liquor labels for viewing.

The dining table is small, perhaps seven feet long with the top shaped like a flat 's'. The table is a green stone that glimmers with chips of prismatic light within in response to the lighting. Places are set for two, each setting placed in the concave curve so that the diners will be diagonal from each other. Right hands easy to weapon or eating; good views of the room not blocked by the dining partner.

Left hands touching will be deliberate, but within easy reach. Left feet touching will be hidden, but extremely simple to do.

The room is lit by four incandescent tube torchiers in the corners. The vertical cylinder inside cylinder shapes allow the outer cylinder to be twisted to control how much light slips out through the vertical slots of both cylinders.

Celina will orient Sir William to chairs, sideboard, and beverages--then go and adjust the torchiers to a bit less light on the side of the room away from the sideboard.

Then she will rejoin William. "Since this is all new to you, would you honor me with making some choices for you?" Celina gestures to the sideboard. "How hungry are you?"

Bill smiles. "By all means, I wouldn't know where to begin. I don't know of any diplomatic way to put this, your ladyship. But I could eat one of those big guys from outside whole. The King expects more physical activity from his attorney than I'm used to."

"I believe that is a family trademark," Celina responds laughing. "As for eating a triton..." She leans against Sir William's shoulder as she is filling his plate with sauteed rim of viifish. She turns briefly to watch him. "...you don't want to do that, they are -very- chewy."

She winks, if he meets her eyes.

He grins back.

"I'll, ah try to restrict myself to more tender morsels, your ladyship."

Celina, considering herself a tender morsel, believes that her point has been made. She is content with the establishment of intimacy so far and pleased that the man knows how to flirt.

[Meta: the GMs had no idea Bill knew how to flirt. He looks to be a willful NPC. "What are the qualifications necessary to be Corwin's Lawyer, besides an expired license to practice law in New York State?"]

He lets her finish serving and, having been warned by Corwin, waits to see how it is that one eats underwater.

Celina ushers them both to the seating, reminding herself not to hold his chair out for him. "Rebma is so pleased that King Corwin remembers us fondly and that in this busy time, he sends you to speak with us."

"The King spoke fondly of Rebma and looks to build a strong relationship between our cities. He seemed unsurprised at the news of the delegation's arrival, as if he were expecting it."

Celina nods. Perhaps he arranged it. "So persons of color are accepted well in Paris?"

Bill takes a second to reply to this. "Paris reminds me of what the history books said about a place called San Francisco back on Earth, my Earth, not the one where Paris is. San Francisco was called a 'Gold Rush Town'. It grew very fast and was wide open. There's a feeling that anything could happen and everyone will succeed, just by being there. The feeling is that we're all Parisians now.

"Not that anyone knows how to get to wherever they used to be from, or really wants to."

Celina sensed the excitment underlying Sir William's words. Such a place, such a time would lie vibrant on the mind.

"For myself, I hope you'll honestly enjoy a short trip around the city tomorrow."

"I look forward to it. It reminds me of Paris."

Celina laughs. "Well, how charming. In the complexity of the streets, or the architecture, or the curious women? How do we remind you of Paris?"

Again, he smiles to cover a slight hesitation, as if he is groping for the right words. "It's like two people's drawings of the same city. I feel like I can see our landmarks if I look at Rebma and then close my eyes."

And Celina finds this disturbing in a way she doesn't have time to consider. She places it in a mental niche for later....

Seating herself, [Celina] continues, "Perhaps you've been uncomfortable with what we sometimes call 'the reminder of water' around you. Eating has a way of lessening the nerves or displeasures of this aspect for surface siders. Part of the trick is to get your internal reflexes to acknowledge the difference between liquid and solid, much as a child of the surface quickly learns about the difference between air and solid.

"It's actually easier to start with a long narrow piece of fish." And she demonstrates, taking a goodly portion of viifish and slipping it into her mouth, sealing her lips gently to it and slurping it down her throat. Celina smiles, "It's a bit of a tussle between surface tension of the water at the back of your throat and the food being squeezed past that point. Breathe just a bit out after you swallow. That helps."

[SWR: insert Bill choking to death, ending Celina's career here :) ]

[Card Draw: Fearing Shadows, upright ("It was all going so well until I thought he started choking and called Orseas to perform the Heimlich maneuver on him.")]

Celina will encourage, mother, and flirt Sir William through several varieties of the food offered before she goes about teaching him the more difficult trick of drinking underwater. Keeping him relaxed and attentive is her aim, and the best way to teach.

She is light but wiley in the use of her charm to focus the dinner on two people learning new things.

She will trade on information for information. Each bit of Rebma comfort that she "dishes out" will be followed by asking questions of Sir William about Paris trivia. Nothing too serious.

"How long was your trip from Paris?"

He grins. "I came via a cave that led to a tunnel where I could breathe the water. Carl told me that my wristwatch wouldn't work in Rebma, so I didn't bring it. I had to stop to rest a few times, and I slept once and ate twice. Other than that, I can't tell you."

"Quite interesting. Yes, breathing air for the first time was strange for me. I hope your first time with water was not too unpleasant."

"Carl told me how he held his breath as he came down the steps, after he'd lost his memory. I had explicit instructions to breathe water."

"And how long have you known Carl, excuse me, King Corwin?"

"Since we were suburbanites together in the 1960s, which is a phrase that contains two references that I can't really explain without you knowing a lot more about my home before Paris. At one point I'd've said 'about half my lifespan', but Carl tells me that that's not the case, either."

"A King can be a generous friend." Celina nods. Corwin's mastery of his realm is strong already. But who knew how much time had passed there?

"Oh, how interesting. So do you suppose you might be with us for a while then? We ought to see about getting you a valet or secretary. Or am I being too forward?"

"Well, I wouldn't say that." He smiles again. It's an easy, contagious smile and you can see why Corwin would choose him as an emissary. "Plainly, I don't know, your ladyship. Her Majesty may send me back immediately or she may not. I'll just do whatever it's in Paris' interests for me to do."

"I'm sure the Queen will have some thoughts about that. If she shares them, you'll know soon enough.

"Alice. Your wife? I'm so sorry she couldn't come with you. Perhaps we can send off a message telling her you arrived safely. Oh, yes, remind me and I'll see to that just after our dinner. I really should have offered before we sat down."

"Alice is probably helping the Rebmans who stayed get settled in. Either that or helping Lance deal with the latest arrivals. There are lots of arrivals, still."

"Oh? Well, trust me, Alice would still like to here that you have arrived." Celina allows a few moments to pass.

"Oh, she would, I'm sure. I don't think she expected me to arrive here for a few more days. Paris was the best thing that ever happened to us. We're both a lot busier."

"Sir William, all these arrivals? Are you saying that Paris was formerly empty? Or are you experiencing an influx of refugees? Can Rebma help in the immediate? I could ask at court. I mean you say 'still' when talking about it. Who are all these people?"

He shakes his head minutely, and grins. "It's not like that. They're not from any one place. People just show up. Alice and I were taking a walk, past Carl's old place, actually, and ended up in Paris. It took us a few moments to realize that we hadn't just gotten lost in the rain.

Celina holds herself steady--so Corwin has -that- much power over things, yet defers to Random as King.

"People who show up, well they want to do things, build things. Everybody just sort of accepts it. It's an amazingly productive chaotic state we live in."

Celina begins clearing a few things. Allowing a winding down to the end of the meal. She'll light a cleansing bowl of incense.

[She can do whatever the equivalent act is, but open flame requires magic, which is why only magicians smoke cigarettes.]

[She'll use a moltenstone as in court.]

Celina will make very nice with Sir William and arrange for a time to meet on the morrow. She is trying to map a tour of the City in her head even now, but there is the distraction of Sir William's comment about overlaying his Paris on Rebma.

She doesn't care to be overlayed--for some reason.

At any rate, she'll glide him back to his envoy chambers, explaining the gallery layouts of the palace only in barest terms. She likes him and wants him to know she does.

Then Celina will go and test the intuition that Someone waits up this eve for a visit from her. She makes her way to the Royal Apartments on the off chance that she will gain admittance there.

On the way, she's working out that tour in her noggin.

Overlayed indeed.

As you approach the Royal Apartments, you notice a strange Triton heading away from them. It is too murky to make out his markings, and you didn't see his tattoos, anyway.

She is admitted and the Queen seems to expect her.

"And what have you learned so far?" Her majesty says, with a hint of a smile on her face.

For some ungodly reason, the smile throws Celina a moment. So she falls back on old etiquette while grappling with Her pleasure and smile. A deep bow fully exposing the back of the neck is executed and she straightens launching into a running response.

"We are at the 'ladyship and Sir William' stage. He is married which somehow makes him all the more interesting a choice as envoy. He speaks well of his wife, though I doubt she dresses him.

"Sir William provides many clues as to the greater power of King Corwin. The King may have expected our delegation to arrive at Paris. There is a euphoria that affects the Parisians, who are welcoming of newcomers of all stripes, including green. There is some confusion in Sir William at recent events, which may provide Rebma opportune slips of privy information--or may misinform us, though honestly.

Celina watches Her Liege carefully. "For instance, Rebma is somehow in parallel to Paris, not just in Sir William's mind, but in his heart, if not in actual details of the city. Some kind of overlay? Yet Sir William makes a point of 'things mostly going the way Corwin wants them to' with respect to Paris. Even King Corwin's unconcious desires seem potent, as Roth and his Alice were transported to Paris without Corwin's knowledge.

"I believe he believes this," She finishes. "He professes no portfolio agenda but to act in Paris' benefit as that may come."

A beat pause, then, "Sir William is the King's friend, and something of a comfort to his majesty. They have known each other for a decade or two. King Corwin personally guided him to a cave which lead to Rebma. I see the relationship between the two as strong and very personal.

"And I promised a personal message would go to Alice on William's safe arrival."

She waits on Her pleasure.

The Queen nods.

"It would be in Rebma's interests to be strong friends with Paris when further developments occur along the Faiella-Bionnin. It would be good to know if his Royal Master intends to treat with us and if so, what he hopes to gain. It is no secret that we would have supported Corwin's claim to Oberon's throne.

"This Sir William can be encouraged to think that we would favor some type of alliance. You may have his message sent. Monta-- Rilsa will find a suitable courier for it."

Not Montage? Or name Rilsa as a cover for Montage? Or Rilsa now since Montage is away on something else? Why do I really try and penetrate these waters?

It's fun. That's why.

Celina decides to make a run at that royal smile She holds so well and mysteriously. "It seems Sir William and his Liege agree with that, Your Majesty. They want all possible good will with Rebma." Celina continues to watch Her and wonder how far to wiggle into this business. Would it make Loreena any less judging if Rebma's position became much stronger because of Celina's work with Roth? "But I don't have a lever or an idea of where to place it. Sir William is a viable envoy and can test the waters here nicely--including if Rebma is scared -not- to treat with Paris.

"So if I encourage his thoughts, am I lying, Your Majesty? I could lie more effectively if I knew. Would Rebma have supported Corwin--or is it Eric that would have been 'chosen' because of blood ties?

"King Corwin wouldn't be thinking that this court is back-biting eels, would he? I can't see it. I'm thinking that Sir William is not a sacrifice to keep us amused while a blow to Rebma is arranged.

"If you think it is-- please tell me so," Celina asks. "Or tell me to stop thinking so hard."

"Do not concern yourself with Amber. It is a dead city and has merely failed to notice it and I see no signs that new growth will spring from its corpse. The political intrigues of a world that has passed will not long be remembered, not in Rebma, Paris, or ... anywhere else the Faiella-bionin may lead. Our objectives with respect to Amber are to treat kindly those who once lived there and avoid being in harms way of her death-rattle. Given the realities of that, Rebma is officially most pleased to treat with Corwin, King of Paris.

Celina swallowed hard at the dismissal of the legend of Amber. Her Queen was a hard woman in many ways. Yet now the hints were laid plain.

Moire really swam a course based on the fall of Amber.

"We favor harmonious relations with Paris as we once favored harmonious relations with Amber. It promotes peace and prosperity for both realms. And a new source for surface goods would certainly improve the city. I have had plenty of petitions for such following the Ambassador's brief appearance in court. The city has noticed that he is here."

And in the very next breath--the daily grind of politics and privilege in the Sapphire City. Celina bit back something hasty.

"Very well, Your Majesty," Celina pitched her voice lower, "I'm all for peace, prosperity, and petitions. I am your servant." And she bows, waiting for the expected dismissal--sorting thoughts and stuffing rebellion and questions back into the darker waters of her head.

"Go, child. Peace and Talk are always better than War and Death, no matter what say the hotheaded."

The Queen, asserting the Royal Prerogative of Having the Last Word, indicates that you are dismissed.

Celina departs the royal gallery slower than she arrived. Her head is a battleground. Amber a dying legend to be looted and placated in its death throes. Paris the new stair to the surface. Corwin, King of that Realm, but friendly to Random, King of the Dead Amber.

Friends, those two? Wasn't that the history of it?

Celina glides on, finding herself taking a detour from the path back to her quarters to the Gallery of Deep Miseries. Entering there, she moves past most of the sculptures rendered to evoke passion, love, struggle in war or athletics, to a smaller gallery where the misery of loyalty is etched into the stone of various life-sized faces.

Stopping finally, she sits on the floor in front of two women rendered in palest pitted blue coral. The figures are entwined passionately, perhaps in the coils of orgasm to judge by the dominant woman's face. Celina studies the strained visage of the woman beneath. Her face stronger, and more deeply vivid with intelligence, and her neck broken by the passion just expressed.

[Hey, it sounds like a Genuine Ossian! Those are rare in Rebma...]

Alone, she holds a wake for Amber and its people. Celina weeps into waters that will tell no secrets.

Many hours later, she finds her bed.