Late Night In Castle Amber

Not too long before Lauds, a page comes and finds Folly. "His majesty is in his study and requests that you join him there."

Folly sets aside her writing, grabs the presentation case of coins, and heads to the meeting straightaway.

The room is dark and as your eyes adjust you see Syd sitting in the casement of the open window, He's wearing a leather jacket against the cold. He looks back at the door. "C'mon in. Sit over here with me." [If she doesn't have warm clothes, he gives her his jacket.]

Folly smiles, accepts the jacket -- she's dressed for the indoors in a t-shirt and a light skirt and no shoes -- and, without a word, takes a seat beside him, taking a moment to appreciate the view (and the delicious intermingled smells of night and sea and warm worn leather) before she gets down to business.

The city is still sparsely lit in patches below, even at this hour. The view of it from the castle is spectacular, even late at night. Random seems content to let her start the conversation when she's ready to.

After several moments of comfortable silence, Folly hands over the presentation case without preamble.

Random opens it and nods. He grins a bit and you can tell he's pleased with Martin's handiwork.

"He should be back within 24 hours with the goods in tow," she says. "He's going to want to talk to you about some stuff he couldn't cover over a Trump connection."

He looks inquisitively at her, but waits for her to go on.

She hesitates and casts a wary glance at the open window. But rather than pulling it shut, she leans in toward Syd, so close that her cheek is almost touching his, and whispers, "Merlin is with him."

His eyes open very wide and he stares directly into hers, letting the implications of this roll over him.

He leans back in and whispers back. "Good. Why is this a secret?"

"Well," Folly replies, "that would be what Martin wants to talk to you about."

She hesitates, wondering how much more she should tell him, how much he already knows. It isn't really her secret to tell, after all.

But after a moment's consideration, she adds, "Apparently Merlin doesn't want his whereabouts made public. Something's spooked him. He's OK, though, and will be back here for the Coronation."

She draws back just far enough to look into his eyes and, still quietly but no longer quite whispering, changes the subject without really changing the subject: "Did you and Corwin have a nice chat?"

"Oh, just grand.. He explained that he had no idea that Valeria was going to accuse Conner of murder most foul and I explained that as King of Amber I was banning him from dating ever again. I swear, between him and Julian..."

Folly lets out a quiet snort of laughter.

"Yeah, I knew Merlin was missing. Corwin was worried. He thought that walking the pattern caused the lad to freak out. That's not really normal, of course, but neither is Merlin.

"I haven't forgotten that you need to walk the pattern, too. I still have that under control."

The ghost of a troubled smile plays about the corners of Folly's mouth. She has a faraway look in her eyes.

He opens up the case [again] and looks down. "These are good." He pulls one out and holds it up in the dim moonlight.

Folly's eyes are drawn to the shiny coin, but she's not really looking at it. After a moment's quiet reflection, she asks, "So, what is normal?"

"I'll tell you all this again just before you walk it, so you don't have to take notes."

He ticks off points on his fingers.

"First, walking the pattern is a test, an ordeal, like a knight's vigil, except with the possibility of death from something besides boredom. Somehow it manages to be the ultimate test of physical strength and endurance for both Corwin and Flora, so don't worry that you can't do it.

"Two, if you think you can't do it and you hesitate or try to stop once you start, you'll die. So don't stop.

"C, when you walk it successfully, you will gain control over your power to walk in shadow. There's a lot you should learn about that, but it only really makes sense once you walk the pattern.

"And last of all, the experience of walking the pattern has been slightly different for each of us. For some it's like a test of willpower, for others it's like solving mathematical problems in their head. Brand used to say it was like a nightmare he couldn't escape from."

Random shrugs.

"It's not hard, just difficult, if you see what I mean."

"Yeah, I think I get it," Folly replies, and grins; but she also pulls Syd's jacket more snugly about herself, as if warding off a sudden chill. She looks like she wants to say fifteen things at once.

Instead, she reaches out and lays a hand on his knee, taking care of about half of what she wants to say -- how freaky it all still is to her, how glad she is that he's here -- all in one go.

The rest she covers by asking, "So, big family field-trip after the Coronation, then? Or does this wait 'til after I go do that other thing?"

"Oh, Unicorn, no. Last thing I need for this is an audience. Has anyone told you about the Jewel? Big, red Ruby-looking thing on a chain? It's not just a royal symbol, but a thing of power in itself, for the right people. Person. Me.

"Because of it, I know what I need to do, and it'll either cure us or kill us. Best not to tell anyone I'm making that decision until it's done.

"It's not just that I know what I have to do, it's that I have to do it.

"Once it's done, I'll be able to show you & then it'll make sense."

"Christ, Syd," Folly says -- it's not an oath she used to use -- and bites her lip, turning her head to look out at the darkened sky. "Leave it to you to turn despotism into an extreme sport." Her fingers tense against his knee, betraying the depth of her concern.

He reaches down and strokes her fingers, ending with their fingertips touching. His fingers are softer than they have any right to be, but that's always been true of Syd.

"There... there really isn't anything the rest of us can do to help with this, then?" she asks after a moment. It's almost more of a statement than a question -- an acceptance of his decision, no matter how much it scares her, and an affirmation of the faith she still has in him -- but the offer to help in any way she can is genuine.

He shakes his head. "I'll need plenty afterwards. Now what I need is the calm before the storm."

"Y'know," says Folly, still looking out the window, "there was a time when you'd've been asking me for the storm instead." Her smile is teasing and bittersweet all at once. Her free hand steals to her heart, toying absently with her pendant through the thin fabric of her t-shirt.

"You know, I'm still bitter about how I fucked that up."

With the speed and surety of reflex, Folly takes Syd's hand.

It fits in his like it has never been gone, and he looks down at the two entwined sets of fingers, quietly.

"You didn't," she says as she turns to face him again. "It's just that the arrangements have all changed and I can't figure out which part I'm supposed to be singing."

He smiles. "It's a surprise symphony. I can't tell anyone the score...yet."

He closes his eyes for a moment, then opens them and looks deep into hers. "Trust me? For a while?" Folly thinks that if she insisted he'd tell her something about his plans.

She can feel her heart pounding in her throat as she meets his gaze.

"I do trust you," she replies quietly. "It's me I'm not so sure about."

She chews her lip, considering how to put the next part. Finally she says, "You said before that I figure rather prominently into your plans. I don't want to... to fuck up your plans unwittingly, y'know?"

He looks up, mischief in his eyes. "They are, like Trick's stupid cousin Callow, currently unfuckable. No fears, you'll have a chance to tell me I'm nuts before I do something really stupid and long term."

Folly smiles, suddenly looking much more relaxed.

He looks out the window. "I hate it that we can't fly here."

"Aisling can," Folly replies, now looking a bit mischievous herself.

He cocks his head momentarily, but doesn't say anything.

"Hey, you wouldn't happen to know whether it's theoretically possible to get to Tir without using the stairs, would you?"

"You can trump in, you can walk the pattern and make yourself there, or you can walk up the stairway. I don't know of any other ways. I bet there aren't any, or else Cambina wouldn't be here now. It's not really here, you know, it's just metaphysically here. I remember once when I was spotting for Corwin. He was walking up and I saw a bird fly through the stairs right in front of him. He didn't even see it. I'd want to consult with Cambina or Fiona, but I think it's a path that starts on three solid rocks and rapidly goes...elsewhere."

Folly nods, brow furrowed, as she tries to wrap her brain around it all -- she feels like she's almost grasped some important bit she didn't get before -- but then...

"Gaaah!" she says, screwing up her features in frustration as it slips out of reach again. "OK, remember that time you and Soren decided it would be really cool to write a song in five-against-seven? This Pattern shit is kind of like that -- except it SUCKS." She regards Syd with a lopsided grin. "I'll be glad when it all starts making sense."

He grins back. "Good! It will when you've walked it. Or at least you'll think it has, which will do for now. When I walked the pattern, I had a sort of little mantra I used as a talisman to make sure I got through it. Want to know what it was?"

His face is very serious now, in that I'm-about-to-let-you-in-on-the-joke way.

"'Flora made it.' I considered that every time I wanted to give up, and therefore didn't." He grins.

Folly laughs, then shakes her head vigorously, as if to clear it and move on to some other topic. Not 'til she reaches up to brush her hair back out of her face does she realize that her other hand is still tucked comfortably into his. She blinks, amazed and maybe even a little alarmed at the ease with which she's falling back into old habits.

Syd is looking out at the moon. Thinking perhaps of Folly's question about Tir or his dreams of flight. His fingers are not tapping, but there is the slight pressure that betrays the rhythm in his head. Syd probably doesn't even realize it's there.

It's that 5-against-7 beat....

Folly smiles. She can't help it. "So if I do manage to bring Soren back here, and your drums, how the hell are you gonna get any meaningful kinging done? Great will be the temptation to jam. But maybe you're stronger than I am when faced with such perils...."

As if to prove her point, a moment later she's reflexively humming along to the beat.

His voice deepens and he looks at two imaginary supplicants. "Lord Feldane, Lord Chantris. You have each presented an excellent and nigh interminable case. As this matter goes beyond truth and contract law and touches upon honor, I find that I must afford you the ancient noble privilege of trial by combat. No more that seven days hence, you two or your seconds will meet at a bar of your choosing for a battle of the bands. Lord Soren will judge."

"Ah, yes, the unimpeachable justice of the Slinky Bass Line." Folly cracks a big grin.

He grins back and after a moment shakes his head. "Dad used to disappear into shadow for years at a time. I won't be able to do that at first, but eventually it should get easier."

Folly ponders that for a moment. "So, is there some important metaphysical reason that Amber has to be a monarchy?" she asks.

"Yes."

Folly smirks. If the expression came with a caption, it would be: "You are such a pain in the ass." She means it in the most affectionate possible way, of course.

"I guess I should rethink my plans to lead the masses in revolt, then," she says. "Just as well, I suppose. Sticking It To The Man isn't nearly as much fun when you're actually fond of The Man...."

"I'm fond of him myself, bit of a pain in the ass, though. So, what's your plan for leading the masses in revolt? Can I help?"

"Dunno, can you use those nifty Pattern Powers to conjure democracy? The way I see it, you need to talk or trick your subjects into self-governance, thus freeing you up for more important tasks like saving the universe and pub-hopping." Folly grins.

"As for my plan -- I dunno, I make this shit up as I go."

"Heh, that's how I King!" he verbs. "Amber doesn't work like normal places. The King has several responsibilities. One: Defense. We just did that. Two: Justice. People like the idea that there are standards other than might makes right. Three: Keeping Amber Rich. That last one is very important. Amber is not like any other place, and it infects places it touches.

"There isn't a valid, stable economic model for a place that can create trade routes the way we do, or import money like we're doing. It's economics in an open system and it probably screws lots of places, but Amber prospers and that matters to Amber. It's why it doesn't really matter what we do. It's all artificial. But it's the King's responsibility.

"Amber is like a black hole and it's my job to make sure it keeps sucking. That's what I've got to do." He smiles.

"Somehow I feel certain you're up to the task," Folly says, grinning.

"This thing you've gotta go do," she continues, "-- will it help with the Shadowpaths, then?"

"Hm. It depends on what you mean by 'help'. Sorta-kinda, some, but not the way you're thinking. But, yeah, it's about re-establishing the trading base."

Folly nods thoughtfully, but her eyes are twinkling. "Does it involve llamas?" she asks with mock-gravitas. "Because if it doesn't -- it should."

"You know Gerard said you had a weird thing about llamas and I said 'that's not weird. Trust me on this one. The llama thing is almost normal...'"

Folly grins and leans forward, ready to tease him right back, but then....

He looks into her eyes. "I shall keep them in mind."

Whatever smart-ass retort she was formulating dies on her lips as soon as his eyes meet hers. "Thanks," she says quietly -- but not before fighting off two or three more immediate impulses. She's suddenly glad it's too dark for him to see her blush.

"So, uh, speaking of Gerard, what's the plan for my wardship?" Folly asks as she tries to coax her heart back down to its usual tempo.

"I dunno. It's all technically proper and all, but no one, including Dad and Eric, ever had any luck coercing family members who had walked the pattern. Not even Flora. I don't think it'll hurt anything, but I don't see that you need it. Or won't after we get you on the squiggle of doom." He shrugs. "You ever really manage to argue Gerard out of anything he's set on?" He shakes his head. "However, if you tell me you don't want it, I'll stop it cold."

"No, it's alright," Folly says. "I like Gerard. I trust him. And yeah, you're probably right that I don't really need it -- but I'd much rather have him looking out for me without needing it than the other way 'round."

She smiles wryly and looks out the window. "Not that living here has made me paranoid or anything...."

He blows smoke out the window from a cigarette he didn't have a moment ago. "It'll do that to you. You haven't exactly seen the city at its best, of course. It used to feel like the center of the universe."

"Maybe it still is," Folly offers, "-- only now it's the hole instead of the creme filling." She shrugs -- and then lets out a quiet chuckle at the inadvertent double meaning of her analogy.

She runs a hand through her hair and watches the smoke from his cigarette drift away on the breeze. It's an old ritual, and she takes comfort in the familiarity of it, the sight and the sound and the scent.

After a moment, she continues, "It's just as well, I suppose. I've always felt more at home on the fringes." There's another pause, and then she looks at him. "I think I get why you spent so much time away from here. You really want things to go back to the way they were before?"

He laughs, quietly. "That doesn't seem to be an option, what with Dad being dead. It's all tied up in what this place is."

"Which is what, exactly? -- now that there's not a Pattern here, I mean. I get the sense that some of my kinsmen believe this is Not Really Amber." Folly pauses, pensive, and then smirks. "Or is this another one of those things I won't really get 'til I've confronted the aforementioned Squiggle?"

"Oh, I'm pretty sure it's Amber. That's why I came back here. It's not that I can't explain, it's that I can't. If that makes any sense. I know what I have to do and I have a guess what'll happen, but I can show you afterwards without it being so woolyheaded. " He smiles. "It's not unlike telling you about walking the pattern. 'The pattern I can describe is not the true pattern' and all that." He runs his hand back through his hair, unmindful of the lit cigarette between his fingers.

Folly makes a face of comically exaggerated frustration and reaches for the cigarette. "Right. OK. No more Pattern questions. We've much more pressing matters to discuss, anyway."

Even in the dark, her eyes are shining. "You think by Freeday everyone will be too partied-out to jam?"

"Possibly, but we're both gonna be gone on Freeday. No rest for the wicked. I'm leaving directly from the Masquerade. However, it is a Masquerade, so it may well be possible for anonymous costumed attendees to sit in with the band."

Folly smiles, pleased but not entirely surprised that he answered the question she was working 'round to as well as the one she asked.

"I'd wondered when we were leaving," she says. "I suppose my actual departure time may depend somewhat on my r-- ...on my escort, who might want a bit of a nap before turning around and leaving town again."

She fidgets with the cigarette and then takes a long, calming drag, holding the smoke in her lungs for a moment before blowing it out in a slow stream.

Then she chuckles. "Then again, maybe not. He is your kid, after all."

"You know how I always used to say 'sleep is for the weak?' Having met my family, it should now be clear that I meant it. Although we have been known to crawl off to shadow when we need to sleep for 3 days but only want to be gone for a night. It keeps people guessing."

Folly grins. Many things he used to tell her are starting to make a lot more sense.

He continues, "There's no real way to describe how far you've gone out in shadow. I mean, what's the distance between red and green? But the ratio between Amber Time and Shadow Time serves as a rough guide. It has to do with how hard it is to get back to Amber. In some of the less-reputable shadows far from Order, it's not regular. Those are worth leaving alone."

"I'll keep that in mind," Folly says, and grins again. "You know how frustrated I get with things that can't keep a steady tempo."

The conversation continues through predawn hours that seem to Folly both brighter than they ought to be and far too brief.

At the first trace of morning twilight, she smiles wistfully. "They'll all be looking for you soon. I -- I guess I should get outta here."