Robin stands outside the door, watching the back of the page disappearing down the leaning hallway of stone. Slightly woozy, she takes a deep breath and turns to face the door. Small white teeth appear to bite apprehensively at the side of her mouth. An action that is quickly followed by a whispered curse. Deep Green! When did she become so timid?
The Ranger raises her gauntleted hand to knock firmly on the door.
A gruff man with chiseled features and a scar on his left cheek answers the door. His left hand rests comfortably. Through it Robin can see Paige and the twins. Paige's now shorter hair is drawn back in a ponytail and she has both the kids with slates and chalk in their hand. There are a few discarded books on one of the sidetables.
Paige turns and smiles at Robin, "Mace, let the children's aunt in, please."
Mace nods and offers the Ranger a slight bow as she enters, like a man not used to such airs, but making an effort for his employer's sake.
Robin returns Mace's nod with more than a hint of approval in her eyes. You bet, he'd better be prepared to take some one of her stature down. Bowing is irrelevant but a nice touch for Paige's sake.
"Children, say good afternoon to Lady Robin," she suggests.
The children look over at Robin. "Good afternoon, Lady Robin," Brooke says as Leif sniffs the air at her.
"Good afternoon, Brooke." Robin says with a smile. She's as unused to the courtesy as Brooke probably is but they're within Paige's rooms so that's the way it's going to be.
As Leif sniffs, Robin lifts her head in his direction, acknowledging him. His scent is already enough in the air for the Ranger to grasp it. As much as she can in this place of trapped air and lying winds.
Paige ushers the kids to the next room over and leaves the door open so she can see them.
Paige waves her cousin toward a chair and sits herself, asking, "What brings you?"
Robin walks over to the chair, though she can't help shooting a glance toward the window. Adjusting her sword, she perches somewhat stiffly.
Paige's question brings a momentary furrow of her brow. Now that she's here, what? The Ranger licks her lips pensively and suddenly Amber's master of small talk strikes once more.
"Paige. I've come to ask you if I may be part of the children's lives." As soon as the words are out of her mouth, Robin sighs and internally rolls her eyes at herself. Oh, yeah. Smooth.
Paige sees the unease and stifles the chuckle before her cousin should ever see it. "Robin, you're probably asking the wrong person. I've never let my father dictate my relationships and I doubt my children will allow me to do that for them.
"Gods, they'll love you. You and Folly'll be the 'fun' aunts, I'm sure," she smiles. "Leif wants teeth and fangs on his clothes because I equated them to a wolf's skin. You'd know how to deal with that alot better than I do. They're Arcadia's nature incarnate, and I'm a... well, whatever job I've had, it's been in the city."
At Paige's smile, Robin relaxes a little and smiles herself in return. A happy glimmer shows in the green of her eyes.
"Thank you. See, I don't want to contest a mother's territory. Unless it becomes critically important. Sooo.... I thought I should ask." She shrugs one shoulder at her own social awkwardness.
Robin casually but-oh-so carefully shifts her weight in the chair so that her front is visible from the door while maintaining eye contact with and talking to Paige. "By the way, teeth and fangs on clothing is called jewelry." She opens the top of her tunic to reveal a simple and elegant necklace of beautiful carved wooden beads interspersed with the gleaming white of bear claws. A quick ruffle of the Ranger's hair highlights the glint of carved bone among the typical feather and beads.
"Something I think you know a great deal about." She finishes with a warm smile.
The hand that is on the far side from the children's view drops to her sword in a light interrogative tap. (ie, she's asking when or if Paige wants to consider the real teeth and claws, weapons and weapons training.)
Paige nods. "Yes, I think he's speaking more to real claws, and it'll have to happen.
"I'd love to have someone to help, but I fear we'll be on our way to Xanadu, to keep a Pattern and as many Shadows between the twins and Arcadia for the moment. I think it will fall to me, or Rides-In-The-Vanguard or Couth, if he accompanies us," the redhead explains.
"That all rests on them not having their father's aversion to metal."
"Aversion to metal?" Robin's eyes wander for a moment as she remembers her tossed knife bouncing off of Adonis' chest. "Oh.
"Well, as far as claw work goes, you don't strike me as too much of a lightweight Paige. Besides there also always Grandpa." Robin just barely manages not to clench her teeth. And makes sure that her eyes are turned away from kids' view of the angry flash of green. Because, whatever else she make think or feel about Bleys, he certainly knows how to kill and how to defend himself.
"Either of them," Paige answered with a nod to Robin, suggesting her Father. A smile quirks her lips, "And, to be honest, yes, I've been working myself again."
A flash of surprise dances through Robin's eyes, followed by a private warm smile.
"I only wish... Well, if wishes were horses..." She sighs and walks to the windows, opening them to the day beyond.
"Are you off to fight at your father's side?" Paige asks. There's a sense of wistful hope in the question, but not directed at Robin's absence.
Feeling the wind flow into the room, Robin lifts her face to the current.
"Eventualllllly." she drawls, some of that same wistfullness in her own voice. The Ranger stands and joins Paige at the windows, unable to keep herself away from the openings.
"He's dispatched me on an intel mission first. Our..." her eyes flicker to Paige including her, "opponent is a being of some ability. Father feels that we should be seeking a method for permanent solution outside of Arden right now."
"Hence the reason I've been working again," Paige admits. "If I knew the children might stay someplace safe like Xanadu without me to keep them there, I'd be at your side, cousin." Her hands ball into a fists and she takes a deep breath to settle herself.
"You can't imagine the hours I've been fighting myself over this, Robin," she says, looking back past her cousin to the doorway and the children beyond. "Arguing which is best, to ensure that they're as well armed with information as they might be before the day they face their Arcadian heritage or to risk them in another's care while I try to find a way to destroy a being of some ability, that three of our uncles only ever made peace with."
Robin crosses her arms over her mid-section as she turns and follows Paige's gaze.
"I've fought and am still fighting the same battles, Paige. Whether to let my brother be as he wished. Even though I knew it was a lie. And a lie that would lead to his death. Or to spend my little and precious time with him engaged in huuugggee arguments designed to save his life. But almost certainly leading to his emnity as well." She sighs. And then frowns fiercely and curses under her breath.
"Now, these precious little ones. Having their life cycles warped to the weft of others. Being told lies about how great Arcadia is and how important their godhood is." For a moment, Robin looks like she wants to spit. "When all it is," those green eyes look to Paige, "is their heritage from King Oberon once again. Filtered through the mate of Finndo.
"I... don't know what to advise, Paige. I tried to walk the middle road with Daeon. And the bastard went and killed hisself on me." She shakes her head.
"You're welcome to join me on the hunt for a permanent answer." Those green eyes turn to Paige, ablaze with a myriad of emotions. "But as you said, three Uncles..."
Robin looks back toward the door with a sad ruffle.
"See, you're at least more sure than I am that Arcadia is nothing more than Amber blood that's been 'filtered'. Their great-grandmother... some ability, isn't that what we've been calling it? Whatever that ability is, it's different enough from Pattern to be unrecognizable to me," Paige admits. "And what I can't recognize, I can't plan for.
"The thought that Artemis might be a willing ally in the fight against her own mother has even occurred." The set of the redhead's jaw makes it clear that she's currently set against the idea of such an alliance.
"Father's currently negotiating with some of her sisters. If you... care to, you could ask him what you could... do or something..." Robin shrugs. If Paige doesn't like the thought of Artemis than she's probably not going to go for similar things, but the Ranger thinks she should at least throw it out there.
Bleys's daughter nods, her left hand going to her waist where yesterday Robin had seen a blade.
"As far as abilities, I don't want to underestimate the Dragon. Tsunamis and volcanoes can kill even if they're just Shadow. But they can't kill in Amber. Or at least they couldn't until we were... you know." Robin's lips press in a flat line as she nods toward the floor. "So yeah. Gettin' the kids out of here is definitely the first step. After that... weeeelll, that's why I'm off to Danu. Without the... backing Father and I need from here, alternatives have to be found."
"Is there a Sketch about of you? Some way I can get in touch once I get them," a nod toward the twins, "settled." She offers a lopsided grin. "Not that I truly expect Adonis's children to settle anyplace."
A distinctly uncomfortable look comes over Robin. "Theeeeerrrreee's no sketch of me. Or Card I know of. Though Reid once asked if he could make one. But I think there's pictures of Jove and Vere and I know there's Cards of Dad. Any one of them should be able to get ahold of me." And that's about as far as she's willing to go in the Trumpy direction.
"I don't know that Danu's the angle I'm looking for," Paige admits. "My father knows something he's not sharing, hoping that the kids will distract me enough to keep me out of it and safe." If Bleys thought that Paige was that shallow, well... maybe she had been for the last few centuries, but things change, even in Amber.
"I'm not sure that Danu's the angle I'm looking for either. But Dad knows his stuff and when he says go, I go." Robin shrugs.
Then looks over at Paige. "Would... you be willing to share anything your Dad lets slip?" Again very uncomfortable territory but... Kids live. Dragon dies. That's worth some discomfort.
Paige bites her bottom lip for a moment, before answering with one of Martin's curt nods. "But, I need the same assurances from you. For as perceptive as I like to believe I am, I have no idea what your father truly thinks of me."
"Well, yeah." Robin shrugs one shoulder as she turns back to the window. Only fair that Paige would ask that.
A sigh lifts through the girl. She turns green eyes to her cousin. "Dad's easy, Paige. He says what he thinks and he thinks what he says. Just because he doesn't punctuate himself with a lot of drama don't make it less true or real. If you want to know what he thinks of you, ask him."
Those eyes turn back to the outside. "But I was mostly talking about draconostrategic things, anyway." A shudder ripples through Robin. Great Deep Green! Does she so not want to know what Bleys thinks of her!!
"Oh!" Paige smiles. "So was I. It's just that..." she trails off, not sure herself where she was going with this. "Do you have a Trump of him I might use to ask?"
"But... Paige?" Robin's brows furrow in confusion as she looks back to her cousin. "He's still in the Castle. Couldn't you just, you know, walk over to him and ask?" Maybe she's being completely naive, but Robin's really hoping the question came from not knowing Julian's whereabouts, as opposed to something icky involving Cards.
"Oh," the redhead said surprised. "So much of the family took off at a run, what with the situation, I assumed... Even sending the King a note last night I didn't get to him before he left.
"I'll have to see him then, before he goes," she plans out loud.
Robin blonde head bobs in relieved agreement.
"Speaking of running, Paige. Would it be possible to talk to the kids, maybe play a little, before I take myself off to another war?" Cause, you know, things happen in wars says Robin's casual shoulder shrug.
Paige's smile spreads as she laughs at herself. "Of course," she answers as she rises to her feet. She extends a hand to Robin and leads them toward the open door. "I've been so focused on teaching that I fear I might've forgotten how to play.
"In fact, if you wanted to get them outdoors for a little, I think it would be good for everyone," she admits.
A unconscious happy croon escapes from Robin as her eyes light. To play with wild things outside of the leaning leering rooms and corridors of the Castle. That's about as good as it gets here.
"Thank you, Paige." The Rangers step is light and with only a slight hesitation she takes Paige's hand and follows to the door.
Robin enters the kids' room with a big smile.
"Hey, Brooke, Leif. You want to get outside for a little bit?"
Leif springs up from his lessons. "YESSS!" Brooke follows.
Robin will want to make sure that everyone in the Castle knows where they will be - northeast garden, the one with all the yews. Robin has good associations with that place, despite the walls and stuff. And she certainly won't mind any bodyguards or watchers. In fact, she'd rather prefer they were there, as long as they aren't too intrusive.
One of the bodyguards will come with them at Paige's discretion.
Mace, the man that met Robin at the door initally will follow.
The Ranger is pretty content to let the kids set the agenda though she does have some ideas if they are undecided or don't know. Hunting squirrels, small birds, the occasional castle cat etc (though, of course, the latter are not for eatin'. ;) Pounce, wrestling and introductory mauling are always fun, if the kids are up for it. Or the Ranger could teach about trees, grasses, bushes - how they act, what they are good for, what they are bad for, how to track through them, etc. (Though the garden is tame enough that one could only do introductory work there.) Talking about Family is uncomfortable for Robin at this point but if the kids insist - she can do that too. But mostly, Robin wants to get active in the open air.
The kids want to play rough, physical games. Hunting, hide and go seek, and wrestling are good choices, as are simple stone-tossing games. They don't want to talk about people, which are all boring.
After about an hour, Robin and Brooke are hunting for Leif when they catch sight of a young wolf in the garden. "Hey!" Brooke yells, "you're cheating!" And she takes off after the wolf, who starts running away at speed.
Robin laughs in surprise. "That's Leif?!" she shouts happily after Brooke as she leaps into action. The Ranger's run down more than one four-legged canine in her career and she calls on that experience now. As well as her familiarity with this particular garden.
The Ranger's plan is to let Brooke chase the wolf in what looks to be a pretty straight line from Robin's perspective, while she circles around and gets some altitude using the various trees and walls. [That's assuming it's possible. If not, whatever strategy has the best chance of working is what Robin will use. :) ]
Brooke chases the wolf around for a few minutes while Robin uses her high post position to figure out where the cub is going. She'll be able to drop down in front of him or perhaps on top of him if she likes.
Stoop, pounce, roll, wrestle. Robin's smile is fierce as she snags the young lupine.
The wolf isn't easy to hold, but Robin can pin him with her size and weight. He barks indignantly and squirms a lot. Brooke stands nearby laughing and pointing; Robin can hear her and gets a glimpse of her as she rolls around with Leif.
With a grin, Robin sees if she can't roll the whole wolf-tussle Brooke's way. After all, a three-pile is even more fun.
Robin moves that way and finds after a moment that she's got two wiggling canines to deal with instead of one. They're loud.
As is the Ranger. After all, being dirty, rough and loud is part of being young. And perhaps Robin is just a bit tired herself of being grown up.
After a while of roughhousing, Robin can hear the approach of strange feet--probably the man Mace. The children may be aware of him, but they don't seem too inclined to stop what they're doing.
Robin sneaks a peek out from under one wolf's tail. She can't always trust her hearing around the Castle and she never wants to assume that footfalls are friendly in this place.
It is Mace. He's standing there waiting for Robin to come to her feet, and perhaps to lead him to his charges.
The Ranger fights her way to the top of the puppy-pile and cocks an eyebrow at Mace.
"Where are the children?" Mace asks.
Huhn. That's definitely a security problem, Robin thinks. But what she says is "Ooof! Leif," as she drags one muzzle around playfully. "Annnd this one's Brooke, pfuu." The last is a comment on blowing out a mouthful of tail fur, rather than Mace's predicatment.
Leif licks Robin, making a loud slurping noise.
Mace looks a little incredulous. "Are you sure, Lady Robin? They're ... dogs."
Robin laughs at Leif's slurp and nuzzles him under the jaw bone before turning her eyes back to Mace.
"Actually," she corrects gently, "they're Brooke and Leif. Wearing the shape of wolves. Like you or I might wear a uniform or a bathrobe or a ...." Robin's brow furrows. Other than a uniform or a bathrobe, the only thing she's worn lately is a gown and a chiton. And somehow she doesn't think Mace is familiar with either one.
Mace still looks skeptical. "Lady Robin, I don't see how those could be children in a dog--wolf--suit." Leif interrupts with a single indignant bark, but Mace rolls on. "I believe you're telling me the truth, but I don't know how children turn into--" and he stops dead, looking at the naked little girl now sitting next to Robin and the wolf-Leif.
He mutters something under his breath about Lady Paige ought to have mentioned this.
Robin nods with a 'well, yeah' look in her eyes. And then turns to Brooke. "Brooke? Are there any other forms you and Leif wear that Mace might not recognize yet?"
Brooke, while unashamed of her nakedness, looks alarmed at the question. "We were told not to change shapes in front of other people." She moves away from Robin, putting her own body between the Leif-wolf and both Robin and Mace. The wolf slips around her, its teeth bared slightly at the two adults--but more at Mace.
"By whom?" Robin asks with friendly curiosity, noting Leif but obviously not being bothered by his behavior.
"By my mother and our kinsman Merlin," Brooke answers.
Mace, unlike Brooke, has noticed that Brooke is naked, and is trying very hard to look at Robin and not his teenaged charge.
"Oh." Robin says flatly. And grimaces. Then can't stop the giggle and the shrug. "Ooops. Guess we'll have to wrestle pink-skinned for a while," she concludes with a sigh, her eyes still twinkling with humor. "Come on, guys. Let's go see if we can figure out where you ditched your clothes."
Leif barks, sounding quite exasperated. Brooke giggles and buries one hand in her brother's ruff, wiggling it in some combination of scratching and hugging.
"If your Ladyship will stay by them, I can fetch some fresh ones from their mother's suite," Mace suggests to Robin.
"I'm staying by them regardless, so it's your choice." Robin shrugs, figuring that Mace knows the parameters of his duty better than she.
"I'll do that now, and be back as quick as I can," Mace promises. He turns and moves away, not light like a Ranger in the faux woods of the garden, but quickly and efficiently nonetheless.
Leif barks again and a moment later there's a naked youth flopped under his naked sister's hand on the ground. He shakes himself, still doglike for all that he's a boy now. "Merlin is a rabbit and so is our mother. We can show Robin our other shapes."
"No." Brooke crosses her arms. "Our mother said not to."
Robin plucks a strand of far too short grass from the ground and chews on it thoughtfully. "Your mother and Merlin aren't rabbits, Leif," she says softly as her eyes drift over the greenery. "They're wolves who've tangled with grizzly."
Leif picks apart a blade of grass, his lower lip poked out and his eyes narrowed. Brooke, also picking apart a blade of grass, looks at Robin. "What do you mean?" she asks.
"I mean," Robin shrugs as she struggles to put it into words, "there's always something bigger and badder than you out there. No matter how powerful you are. Paige and Merlin aren't weak. Nor are they helpless. If they're afraid, it's because they ran into something that could hurt them. No matter what they did."
Leif perks up at that answer and glares at Robin. "Nobody could hurt our mother," he says.
Brooke looks at Robin and then at her twin. "Our father died," she says.
Robin smiles wistfully to Leif. "Don't I wish that a firm declaration made in passion would make it so. Unfortunately, that's never worked for me in the past." A sad chuckle goes through her.
"Your father died. So have many others. Both of his... ability and those stronger." She shakes her head sadly.
"What do you mean?" Brooke asks, coming to squat in front of Robin. She looks up at her aunt thoughtfully.
Leif rolls over and clarifies, "What a-bil-i-ty?"
"Weeeellll," Robin drawls as she relaxes on the grass. "I suppose I mean the ability to shape the universe by sheer willpower. Though I'm waaaay oversimplifying it."
This time it's Brooke who looks at her like she's crazy and Leif who nods thoughtfully, or thoughtfully as a naked boy on the edge of puberty stretched out on the grass can manage. "That's not what our grandmother told us our godly heritage was."
"That's because it's not part of your godly heritage." She says in a gently teasing voice to Leif. "It's part of your other heritage."
Robin's green eyes turn back to Brooke and she shrugs with a smile. What can she say? That's the way it is. No matter how crazy it sounds.
"This is our Ordered heritage," Leif says to Brooke, and her eyes light up. She leans forward and says to Robin, "Tell us how we become initiated!"
"You get older and more responsible. Then you prove to your mother or Merlin or some other initiated person that you can be trusted with the power to twist the universe."
Robin sighs as she lays back with her head on her hands. "That's close to what my father told me the first time I asked him. And the second time. And the third through upteenth times I asked him. At those times I hated it! But, at those times, he was right too. Sooooo... Sorry, Brooke. If your Mom hasn't told you, I'm not about to open that can of worms." She smiles sadly at her niece.
Brooke's shoulders slump, and Leif looks smug. Leif says, very casually, "how old would we need to be?"
Brooke glares at her twin, then she turns to Robin. "But what does it mean to be of Ordered heritage? Apart from the power to twist the universe once we are initiated?"
Robin sniggers at her nephew's question. Boy, does he remind her of her. "Ain't a matter of age, Leif. It's a matter of maturity. Lessee." The Ranger scratches the side of her nose. "I think Jovian told me that he was initiated when he was fifteen. Me? I was older than that. A lot." She chuckles ruefully.
"As far as the meaning of being Ordered, I suppose it means different things to different people, Brooke. And even then, it's something totally beyond the ability of words to contain. But... I think to me it means freedom." Robin smiles as that word gusts out of her. "I can go anywhere, do anything, be anyone. The only thing that limits me are the grizzlies I mentioned earlier."
"Thing is -- absolute freedom without self-discipline is ugly and horrible beyond belief." She cocks an eyebrow at her niece. So far Brooke's been catching the heavier thoughts. Robin's curious to see if she can catch that one too.
"I want to be free," Brooke says, looking at Robin, and she starts to add more, but a heavy tread that Robin is sure belongs to Mace is approaching.
After a moment, Mace calls out, "Lady? I'm here with the children's clothing."
"Over here, Mace. Toss 'em this way, and I'll see if I can't get 'em bundled up." Robin's chuckle is apparent in her voice. And in the fact that she sticks out her tongue and wrinkles her nose to Brooke and Leif.
A bundle of clothes sails through the trees. Robin is able to catch it handily.
The children look at Robin suspiciously. Brooke's expression is closer to resigned, and Leif looks like he's about to protest.
The Ranger shrugs as she drops the bundle to the ground and squats back down to look at the children.
"This ain't one I can explain well, guys. I don't understand the clothes theories here myself. And the person I was talking to about clothes got eaten by a grizzly like your father, so...." she shrugs again.
"I know that when I wear the clothes I'm supposed to," one side of her lips twitch, "my father is happy and proud. So is my brother. And I like seeing them that way. Buuuuutttt, then I start feeling weird about doing things I don't like just to please other people.
"On the other hand, the person I was talking to about clothes? It got et because it wouldn't do things it didn't like to please other people." A sad frown pulls Robin's face down. "Because it didn't act like everyone else.
"Soooo, I reckon there's no win on this one. And that I am definitely not the one to talk about clothes. But before you decide about these," she pokes the bundle, "I hope that you'll consider wearing these."
From around her neck, Robin removes a wooden bead and bear claw necklace for Leif. And from her hair, a clip of talons and falcon feathers for Brooke.
Brooke takes hers with wide, wonder-filled eyes, running her fingers across them as though she can discern their history by touch. "Thank you," she breathes, and gathers her long blonde hair so she can put the clip in it.
Leif puts the necklace over his head and, scowling, picks up the clothes bundle, muttering something about his mother and teeth and claws.
"You're welcome." Robin pats Brooke fondly.
"Don't worry, Leif. Your rabbit-mother is arranging the teeth and claws even as we speak." She winks to him.
He looks sort of sullen, but winks at her at the last second.
Reluctantly, the children take their clothes and put them on. Brooke fusses with Leif's tunic, straightening it to her own satisfaction, before donning her own.
After a few minutes, Mace calls out, "Are the children dressed?"
Leif calls out "no" as Brooke says "yes".
Robin laughs. "I feel like I should say maybe, but I'll settle for they'll pass," she calls back to Mace.
"Listen," she smiles fondly to the twins, "I should probably get going. I'll walk you to your door, but after that I better see if I can hunt down Lilly." Robin shoulders twitch in a shrug.
"You know, I've really enjoyed being with you guys. I hope we can do it again." The girl's eyes are glowing. It's definitely more than just familial duty she feels for the kids.
The twins nod at her in unison, Brooke enthusiastically and Leif slightly less so, as Mace arrives.
Robin escorts them back to Paige's quarters, keeping the twins in line with help from Mace. Mace gives her the best directions he can to her next destination before taking the twins into the suite and closing the door behind them.
Robin hugs both Brooke and Leif enthusiastically before reluctantly releasing back in their rooms. She nods at Mace's instructions, seeming to understand, but even as he speaks Robin can feel them leaking out of her ears. Damn this place!
She waves as the door closes. And then turns.
Yep, corridors of leaning stone, dead air, and strange, strange odors. With a gulp, Robin sets her feet in what she hopes is Lilly's direction.
The quiet pulse of activity welcomed Celina back into the cool shadows within Castle Amber. The walk up through town had been more fun than she expected. Stopping three times to buy treats from cart vendors had provided her savory lunch.
She navigated to her rooms, changed from pants and overblouse into a robe. The priceless Trump of Reid went in plain sight on the light wood bureau, where she would notice immediately if it was moved or taken. Very shortly then, she went down to the library to grab a book on Amber noble houses.
A few minutes there and she headed up for Merlin's room.
After her brother's reactions to her 'help', her mind was much on the reproduction rituals of Order. This also meant Khela ghosted through her thoughts and left footprints in the dreamsand.
As soon as he saw the robe, would Merlin be angry? Or did anger mean losing one's will to another Chaosi? Manipulation and advantage were everything to their strange culture. She scratched on his door. At his short murmur, she opened it and glided in, taking care to close the heavy paneled door softly. "Fine afternoon, Merlin. I assume you want me by the window?" She walked to a wider settee with a padded perch and pulled it across the room into the slant of gold from the window using her free hand. She glanced outside as she dropped the book on the dark cushioned seat.
"Please." Her brother arranged his tools.
Celina nodded. "I saw Reid in town and met his friend, Papillon. He gave me a Trump and said I could call on him during our travel."
"I hope I will be able to speak with him before he leaves Amber. He would be useful on our quest if he chose to accompany us."
"Yes, I thought he might actually be handy, knowledgeable, and interested if the Triton legend I find has religious meaning, as I somehow think it will. For a long time, without respect to books or history, I've thought of the Tritons in service as monks or penitents. There might be a good reason for that. In any case, it will certainly figure in what I find. And his father, Osric, added weight to the legends of Rebma. I wonder that it isn't important also."
She eased off the robe and draped it over the settee back.
Sliding into the seat, she arranged her back to Merlin and found a comfortable place where she could both read the book in her lap and look past her shoulder out the window. She slowly took the earrings off and hair sticks out of her tresses and tossed them aside. She shook out her hair and looked back at him for his comment. If any.
She noted Merlin was busy with his easel and tools. He glanced at her and added nothing.
She let loose a breath. "Do you dream, Merlin? Is there artistry in your thoughts while you sleep?"
"I dream. Sometimes my dreams are disturbing. I do not know whether they are of Order or of Chaos, or both."
Celina nodded and slid a finger into the first page of the book.
"Dreaming doesn't seem an Ordered art. But history and literature puts great store by it." Celina opened the book and began to skim the content. She let her thoughts, and the spare writing, and her brother's industry twine in her mind as a three-part bracing against the nervousness of having any sort of arcane target performed here. Silly. That isn't what Trump really is.
But she didn't really trust the denial.
Hadn't events now sketched a 'portrait' which suggested she'd been a target since she was born? The real freedom was in knowing. And Merlin brought that into focus. Perhaps her Trump would be the most sublime target ever: painted naked in the warm sunlight of Amber. Would that sunlight be old and faded? Would the Trump show the new girl and the old sun in a way that allowed others to understand?
Amber: old before its time. Celina: princess of two realms before her moment.
She smiled out the window. The sun felt wonderful. It brushed across her shoulder and torso like a companion, like a needed friend. Her father had grown up here, in this stark castle. He had been a boy under this sun. Her smile widened. He had run naked through the lawns and hallways with servants trying to catch him for his mother.
She just knew he had.
She glanced over her shoulder at Merlin. He busied himself with a curving line, his eyes bright with his inner voices. Merlin brought a kind of peace when they shared moments. Corwin seemed to generate rage in her just by being near. Or he was a mirror for her secret anger? Yes, that made much more sense. She nodded, perhaps the part of her father she had was his warrior's fury.
There lurked ferocity within that seemed connected to nothing in her oh-so-proper upbringing.
She dropped her eyes to the book and let time slide by, filling her head with names that her father would know; families that had given sons and daughters to shield the land of Amber. It all connected. Choices: stepping forward to be the target of adversity; running naked under the legendary sun of Amber. Celina was glad she had thought to strip of the gifted jewelry she had received from Rebman courtiers and worthies. She even wondered with humor if she might start an order of naked philosophers in Xanadu.
She set her finger again to mark her place. A glance noted the passage of sun to a very different angle. She looked back over her shoulder again to Merlin. "I have dreamed. I'm not sure if the dreams are Ordered or Chaos or past or future. Since I was a young woman and the power of sorcery visited me, I have dreamed darker things. Sorcery is the breaking of Order isn't it?"
"More like the bending of Order than its breaking. It is a paradox."
Celina nods. "My teacher did not emphasize this; she said it was the person requiring necessity of themselves. That Llaya was drawing upon personal destiny. I'm not sure she was being honest with me. Maybe she really spoke to me now and not then, trying to explain her betrayal." Celina feels a tension of hunger. Is the process drawing energy from her?
Or is talking about Khela stirring passion and hunger?
How many meals did they share? Cooking for each other? Dragging food and wine into the dance salle and staying there all night. Celina flushed. Food. Dance. Sorcery. Sex. Music. Scents. All the good things of her life tangled back to Khela.
She sighed and looked into the sunny blue out the window. Where was Khela? A muscle in her stomach twitched with memory of the dream-blade thrusting through her to pin her to the door in Xanadu.
"I'm hungry," Celina whispered. "Did you bring something little up? I think the sun is marvelous today. A good way to spend the afternoon, this is."
"I can send for something."
"Yes, that would be a good idea." Celina looks back at her place in the book. The sounds of Merlin hailing a page in the doorway and giving quick instructions roll in the background like waves curling against the shore.
A sharp knock on the door broke her scrutiny of the book, and she glanced over her shoulder at Merlin. A quick thought was that castle pages should not bring food in front of naked royals. Wise as this must be, it was the second thought, that Merlin might become center to some gossip that had her firmly close the book and reach for her robe.
Her hand stilled then, even as Merlin answered the door.
Am I breaking the wonder? Does shifting to the concerns of the greater castle and society end up in the Trump? I don't want that. Not at all.
At the door, Merlin exchanged pleasant words with someone, a name she did not recognize, but her brother's position and manner told her it was a page. Merlin backed a step and closed the door while balancing a heavy tray.
Merlin maneuvered back into the room and set the tray on a spindly table that he picked up and positioned between his easel and the sofa. Though Celina reflected she was pleased the robe lay untouched, she appreciated anew her brother's calm insightful style. Separated by uncountable miles and cultures, how was it that they were so compatible? Orphans in common misery?
Celina stretched a leg from the sofa and picked up a two tined fork with her toes. A quick stab pinned something she thought was seared cattle. She sniffed it carefully before she tasted it. Good.
No, not orphans. She'd never felt like an orphan growing up and she had to doubt that he had either. Her aunts cemented themselves into everything she did. As she went from girl to young lady and the Black Tide war swept over the Seaward, her aunts became almost psychic in their attention to her walks, her friends, and her luxury time.
She used the fork liberally to hunt through the taste sensations on the plate. Brighter or saturated colors drew her attention first. It was heady to introduce her palate to so many new things.
The afternoon wound around small talk, which Merlin seemed eager to practice, and deeper readings of the book in her hand. Gilt Winter's family name was not there, and she saw that the title names were at odds with family names. She tried to put them all into a sort in her head. Even so it was too much. She wasn't certain she would ever use the knowledge, but it was the kind of quiet exercise that built Llaya and supported the hard work ahead.
She pressed on, looking for meaning in the welter of families.
Later, a knock at the door sent Merlin to answer. A pleasant voice murmured: Cousin Ossian; and Merlin allowed him to step inside.
Ossian smiled. "Hello, Celina."
"Well met, cousin." Celina was surer of herself now; she did not move to cover and noted Ossian's eyes swept the room, quickly centered on Merlin's easel.
Her brother allowed Ossian's interest and subsequent motion to look at the work she hadn't seen as yet. Ossian gave an enthusiastic nod to the ongoing art Merlin had spent hours upon.
And shortly, after trading comments about the funeral and Trumps, Ossian left again with a polite nod and a Trump of Merlin's.
"Good health," Celina nodded in turn. She watched Merlin carefully then, to see if Ossian's remarks about the easel's work had changed his mood.
But again, Merlin busied himself with the work. A small dent at the corner of his mouth made an appealing statement of impatience with his progress.
She relaxed back into her reading.
And then in reaching for the platter, she noticed that the light had changed enough that Merlin was studying his work, rather than painting. Celina put the book away and went to the window. Kolvir always ate the sun before the sky actually darkened. The light now was soft orange and flowing and gentle.
"Gorgeous," she said.
Celina turned and watched Merlin's face. "So. How did we do today?"
Merlin did not smile, but gestured for her to come look. Celina padded over and studied the easel. She had never had a portrait, though there were art classes at Nibbeak where everyone sketched and modeled in turn.
She looked at it, even as Merlin commented: "This needs time."
She eyed the lines first, noting how he crafted the media, seeing how her own work in school was so forced by comparison to her brother's skill. Still she noted something about the turn of her torso, the lines of her hips compared to her shoulders that seemed a bit off.
Merlin added, "It may be weeks, four perhaps, before I could fashion a permanent Trump along these lines. But I could make a sketch in much less time. Would you suggest how best to spend our time?"
Celina spoke before thinking overmuch. "It is your art you speak of, what would you do without my say?" She held up a hand. "No, wait. You asked for a reason." She studied the artwork, thinking about herself and this day and what might be the next few weeks.
Is Amber less of a place for Art now?
Then certainly shadow would not be better. Merlin did work in Paris; he made sketches of Jerod, and then finished them here. Ah, but Paris has power. She chewed her lower lip. She squinted at the work imagining colors and shadows of Amber's sun.
This was a bad moment to hesitate. So many in the family could call on her time. The King could forbid her travel or even send her back to Rebma with her hands empty. She wished there was a chance to talk to Vialle again. No. Merlin was deferring to her because it was her time. She had made herself the determinant...
Time to choose again.
Celina turned and looked at Merlin. "The sketch is less useful? Fragile?"
Merlin nodded. "It can be. I will protect it with my Art."
Celina glanced down again at the hints of what could be. Four weeks. "The day has been so perfect. The memory of it will have to do. Go ahead with the sketch. I cannot stand the idea of being here four weeks while events move on. The faster route will have to do."
She squeezed his arm to show that her decision was no shadow cast on his skill. "Thank you for telling me, perhaps we will have a chance to do more posing on the way. I really can't say."
"I will craft the sketch to serve us based on today's session." Merlin began removing pins holding his work to the easel. "It seems to me this is a good resolution. To fix you to a Trump just now would be bad. Later will suit a more permanent work."
Celina paused, one arm sliding into the sleeve of her robe. His eyes were on his work and that dent was back at the corner of his mouth. Did he feel inadequate to the task at hand?
Or was he feeling something in flux within her? Or had she been too opaque? Or had her openness and nudity been awkward for him? Had he suffered in silence all day?
She nibbled her lip a beat and decided: now was not the time to ask him.
And that was an answer to the question.
Robin spins where she is. Where is she?!? Dammit! Okay, she was just talking with Paige and the kids. And then she left. And then there was... walls. Definitely walls, she remembers that. And carpets.
But now? Robin looks around again. Why would anyone have so many corridors and passages and stairways and things, all kind of meeting in a big jumble that no one ever came to, judging from the dust. Leering, crumbling, fractured, constricted passageway...
Okay. That's it. She needs to get out of the Castle. And fast.
Listening carefully, the Ranger picks her way over the uneven and mismatched flooring, reaching for the sound of people moving. There! Down the kind of olivey green, mostly stone corridor leading upward at a slight angle. Trying not to run, Robin makes her way back to the inhabited reaches of Castle Amber. And pounces on the first person she finds.
"Please. Can you take me to Prince Julian?" Though fighting to stay calm, Robin's breathing is definitely elevated and her face pale.
"I can take your ladyship to his chambers," the page says, and proceeds to do so. It takes the ranger they find on duty there a few minutes to locate Prince Julian, and after what seems to Robin like an excruciatingly long time, she is in the gardens outside the castle with her father.
Julian waits for Robin to master herself, to rid herself of the dread of the hated castle, before speaking.
Deep breath goes in, deep breath goes out. Deep breath goes in.... deep breath comes out. Eventually the garden air works its magic and Robin's color returns.
"Sir? Reaching my limit here." Because a Ranger who ignores it and pushes past endangers herself and her entire team.
"Then it is time and past time for you to leave," Julian says firmly. "Are you ready to go to the Isles? We'll have to walk through the castle to the place where Random has fixed the cards--the so-called 'trump booth'". Julian wrinkles his nose at the term.
Robin's blonde head bobs. She can walk through the Castle one last time. And with her father beside her, she might actually get where she was going.
As for ready, yeah. While she could probably think of reasons for and benefit from further meetings with her relatives, the Ranger's not sure she'd handle them well given her mounting stress levels. As for things, she only truly needs what's on her. And her father, brother and Vere.
The thought of Vere brings a happy smile to Robin's face. She nods again. "Thank you sir."
"You're welcome, Robin." Julian smiles warmly at his daughter and offers her his arm.
An arm that Robin is as happy to fly to as any of the other wild winged things of Arden.
They proceed through the castle at a rapid pace, but not so rapidly as to cause anyone who sees them to remark on it. The halls seem less looming and constricting, less like the belly of a great stone beast, when her father is with her.
Soon enough, they're outside and heading toward a small, low outbuilding. An osprey cries harshly above them and seems to be swooping down toward them. Robin's keen eyes make out a packet attached to it, for all the world as if the proud bird were a homing pigeon. Julian sees it, too, and halts to offer it a gloved arm.
For a moment, Robin's eyes widen but then she sees clearly that it is a different osprey that approaches her father now. The girl releases her father's arm so that he may see to what this one brings.
The osprey lands like a hawk in the mews and lets Julian take the packet. He whispers to it in the tongue of birds, and Robin senses the power of the Pattern flowing through him and into the bird. It rises from his arm, and cries again, and is gone.
Julian opens the packet and looks inside. "A mourning gift from Jerod," he says. And indeed, there is a note and other things, which he puts aside to deal with later.
A quiet smile lines Robin's lips as she nods at the toes of her boots. Another cousin who is harsh with words but gracious of deed. As her father tucks the packet away, Robin watches the wings flutter away into the sky. Free.
At the door of the "trump booth", there is a guard. He notes Julian's and Robin's arrival, but waves them in.
Inside the low but well-lit outbuilding, trumps and sketches are affixed carefully to the walls, as if some thief would come and carry them off were they left on a table. Julian makes his way unerringly to a sketch of Vere, and waits for Robin.
Robin gulps and pales visibly. Could it possibly get any worse? Close tight walls of stone and on them - Cards. Everywhere cards. A shudder goes through the girl. But there inside is the white figure of her father. And he stands beside the image of her love. The Ranger forces herself forward until she stands next to both of them.
"K." She fluffs with preparedness. "Danu. Weasel draconointel out of Priestesses. Practice Godding. Stay safe." Her green eyes look up at her father. "Arden. Seek draconobindings. Firm up land. Stay safe. Right?"
Julian nods slowly. "Those are my instructions. But as always, I trust your judgement in hunting further clues."
Robin throws herself on her father in a rib-crushing hug. "Love you, Dad. Thank you."
Julian returns the fierce embrace, picking Robin up off the ground, leaving her feet dangling. "Fly free, Robin, and return safe."
Once back on her feet, Robin faces Vere's Trump. Despite the pretty swirling colors, her nose wrinkles as she reaches out to trace the line of her love's cheeks.
The call of Robin's heart is not in words. But then she doesn't need words with Vere. Just the joy, the love, the wonder and the longing.
Last modified: 27 January 2006