On the afternoon prior to the Family's journey to Paris, Silhouette summons Random to her room with the promise of cake. When he arrives, true to her word, she has prepared a steaming pot of tsai -- the air now rich with cinnamon and cloves -- and a plate of petimezoptia.
She cuts him a piece of the spiced cake when he sits down. "Forgive my impetuousness, sire," she says, moving to fill his cup. "I realize you are a busy man, so I shall be brief." Her brown eyes seek his -- grief cooling the warmth normally evident when in his presence.
"I would ask you a boon; for which, I am willing to provide you whatever you ask of me. I wish for you to act as my threnodist during Lucas' prothesus, as I intend to refrain from attending the ceremony. I do not wish to be indebted to your brother, nor do I wish to antagonize my mother further. But nonetheless, Lucas is my brother and I would have it known that he is in my heart.
"Your words for Cambina touched me. So I can think of no greater man to be my threnodist."
She pushes an envelope across the small table. "These are my words for Lucas, as well as the threnos I wish sung -- translated from Mesogeio to Thari. As I doubt you know the kithara, I've included the sheet music for a guitar."
Silhouette folds her hands in her lap, trying to put on a good face as she awaits his reply -- but the desperation chips through her stoniness.
Random reads it, and looks at the guitar part, and nods, once. "I can play it on whatever instrument you like. Stay close to the palace. There will be a family conference afterwards, and I'm sure you'll come up in conversation. I may need to get hold of you on the quick."
"If you can, the traditional kithara would be more appropriate," Silhouette says. She smiles warmly -- fighting back her emotions. "Thank you, my King. You have done so much for me. You are very kind.
"I shall remain close, so you might call upon me at your pleasure."
She cuts herself a wedge of cake, "Do you have a moment to linger? I find that I have missed your company." A pause as she wets her nervous lips. "Perhaps more than is appropriate. For an emissary, I mean."
Random picks up a fork and stabs it into her cake. "Things are quite hectic and I have many duties. There is never a convenient family funeral. But I think we need to arrange for the end of your emissarial duties soon." He eats the cake and puts down the fork.
Silhouette sets her fork on her empty plate, as well. "I concur with your assessment. Expedience will serve all involved in this ugly affair. A delay might invite involvement by the Family or Rebma, which could further complicate matters. Once Huon has surrendered himself, I may remove myself from his service and formally pledge my allegiance to you. There are also personal matters I must resolve in Amber and possibly in Rebma, if my request is accepted. They are secondary, but I would rather their completion not languish too long."
She tilts her head and smiles, "For future conversation, you would not happen to require a Royal Artificer in court would you? I am most eager to explore the engineering possibilities offered by this world. And to serve you in my true capacity."
Random shakes his head. "Yes, maybe. Can you make a machine that records and faithfully reproduces music, from multiple inputs at various points in the process and that allows the inexpensive mass production of recorded music to a large audience?
"That's what I need."
Silhouette sips her tea, growing thoughtful. "Musica instrumentis was included in the quadrivium portion of my education. Recently, I have incorporated recording formulae in my constructs, so the concept is not wholly unfamiliar."
She considers this for a moment longer before nodding, "I will require access to documentation outlining the technological aspects of this Realm - harmonics, in particular. I shall then draft an engineering schematic for your review. If you believe the construct fulfills your needs, we can then discuss an official commission for its construction.
"Would such an agreement please you?"
"Good. There's no documentation. There's a recording studio. And Soren. He's the most important man in my court. Convince him and you've convinced me."
"Then I shall arrange a meeting with Soren immediately," Silhouette says in a pleased tone. "Perhaps he can enlighten me as to the various difficulties I shall be facing and whether or not I can employ arcane means into the construction."
She refills the cups with tea, "Is Soren Family?"
Random smiles at his niece. "Soren Daniels is the most important man in the kingdom. I am not convinced that my relatives are men, although we're like them." He sips the tea. "Or women, of course."
Silhouette chuckles softly, "Only once we have forgotten that we are humans can we remember that we are gods." A pause. "Perhaps it is our kismet to be forever removed from the world."
She returns the smile. "So, before I must lose you again, tell me of your music?"
"Gods are boring. Every tiny shadow corner has ten-thousand. We're Princes in Amber, each of us encased in our own jewel." Before she can object, he changes the subject. "I can't tell you about music. I can only show you. Talking about music is like dancing about architecture." He finishes the tea and stands.
Silhouette laughs, "How very true." She stands as well, escorting him to the door.
"Thank you, Random. You have been very kind," she says, kissing his chastely on the cheek.
"Safe journey."
The weather is ideal, a perfect late summer evening, with a slight breeze that was so different from Xanadu's sultry nights of the past few months. The long days of summer were coming to an end.
The setting sun shines down over the ridge, casting fantastic rainbows in the spray from King Falls above the castle. For some of the many visitors, this is their first time to see the falls, the castle, or the King up close. Quite a few had awakened in Amber that morning. Few doubt that the King is attempting to work on moving some of the more conservative nobles by making them take a good look at Xanadu.
Below the Castle, Xanadu sits nestled around the bay that was fed by the lower falls--Prince Falls, they're calling it. Both gas and the odd electrical lights are visible, since the sun sets earlier below.
The next thing those visitors from Amber see is the imposing, fariy-tale castle. A giant edifice, built into the very rock of the cliff face, beside a lake fed by King Falls, and topped by the red and white Unicorn banner of the royal family, it doesn't have to do anything but exist to be impressive.
The crowd is gathered on a giant stone terrace outside the palace. It's a mixed lot; Cambina's friends, her mother's family, the powerful of Amber and their Xanadu counterparts, Nestor and his librarians, and many of Amber's royal line. Gilt Winter, a tall man with long silver hair, marshals an army of pages and minor functionaries to help them find their places as they join those waiting to honor Cambina.
More visitors arrive over time: Gerard in his wheeled chair with his wife; Julian on his trump, joining a contingent of Rangers; Caine and a few senior officers; a Parisian party with King Corwin, the Princess Florimel in deepest black mourning on his arm and several family members with them; a number of Rebmans, including the Princess Valeria.
Random arrives last, with Vialle and his sons and daughter-in-law to-be, looking somber. He slowly mounts the platform that has been added for him to speak from.
"We have no family tradition for funerals, a custom I wish to keep. The last time we mourned publicly, it was for Oberon, King of Amber.
"Cambina, child of my brother Eric, was in all ways a Princess of Amber, proud and smart and bullheaded. I knew her more than most. She served as her father's host while I was his second favorite prisoner.
"She spent her life searching, thirsting for knowledge. When she had it, she shared it freely. She was a visionary, who always knew when to ask 'why' and a fighter who could tell her rather formidable father that she wasn't going to follow his dictates. That was amazing to watch."
Random pauses for a breath.
Celina looks sidelong at Corwin of Paris. Something the King has said changes her stance to something more contemplative. The green-black dress she is wearing might pass muster for fashion in Paris, it certainly is elaborate enough with a waterfall of gathers at the back. Celina looks through the crowd for Khela, hoping to catch her eyes.
"Cambina loved things. The library, the city, Tir-na Nog'th, from whence she fell. Her family, especially her brother. She helped keep Amber a going concern on the Regency Council.
"This ceremony is one of remembrance, but it is for the living, demarcating a change in our lives. A sad one, as we move forward without my niece and my friend.
"We don't know what happened up there, what made her stay until she fell, how someone with the experience she had could be lost that way. It's not a thing any of us expected.
"Goodbye, Cambina. The world is less bright without you." Random takes the Queen's hand and leads her down from the podium.
Gilt Winter steps up and signals to the next speaker.
Jerod watches impassively throughout the proceedings, his grey attire seemingly more austere than one would expect given that preferential colour of black worn by others of the family and guests. He remains somewhat in the background throughout most of the time as the guests gather, noting the arrivals with an air that hovers between dispassionate and disconnected. He does not ignore those around him and he is suitably polite to those stepping forward to offer their condolences, be they sincere or otherwise. Only Carina continues to occupy his attention and they speak quietly at intervals as he points out individuals or answers some of her queries as she flits in and out of his personal space with the ease born of years of intimacy.
Only when Random steps forward to the platform does Jerod move forward, Carina remaining close. His expression hardens as Random speaks, more for control than anything. As Random speaks his final goodbye, there is a momentary flash in Jerod's eyes, too quick for anyone not watching him to notice, that flash of rage, the drive of vengeance that hovers deep within him. He does not call upon it, but keeps it buried, knowing it for what it is. There will be a time for it to come forth, but not today.
As Gilt Winter steps forward, signaling for the next speaker, Jerod raises his hand and snaps his fingers in the silence of the King's departure. Three people, two men and a woman, musicians by their look, move forward from the back where they were waiting patiently and move off to one side, one of the men pausing to hand Jerod a violin, while wind and drums and string await their calling.
Jerod and Carina whisper once more, perhaps a word or two on the setting, perhaps something more. With a nod, she moves off to a center position and as Jerod begins a stroke upon the violin, the musicians picking up now, she turns slightly, not facing directly to the gathering but slight off to one side, watching her Prince as she begins to sing.
"The moonlight it was dancing
On the waves, out on the sea
The stars of heaven hovered
In a shimmering galaxy""A voice from down the ages
So haunting in its song
These ancient stones will tell us
Our love must make us strong""The breeze it wrapped around me
As I stood there on the shore
And listened to this voice
Like I never heard before""Our battles they may find us
No choice may ours to be
But hold the banner proudly
And the truth will set us free""My mind was called across the years
Of rages and of strife
Of all the human misery
And all the waste of life""We wondered where our God was
In the face of so much pain
And I looked up to the stars above
To find you once again"
As Carina pauses, Jerod's violin playing seems more pronounced, though the volume does not increase. The tone is a haunting, mournful sound, an expression of pain and sorrow and loss, emotion for which no words can exist. Through out the playing his focus rests upon her, and she upon him, before she begins once more.
"We travelled the wide oceans
Heard many call your name
With sword and gun and hatred
It all seemed much the same""Some used your name for glory
Some used it for their gain
Yet when liberty lay wanting
No lives were lost in vain""Is it not our place to ponder
As the sky does weep with tears
And all the living creatures
Look on with mortal fear""It is ours to hold the banner
It is ours to hold it long
It is ours to carry forward
Our love must make us strong""And as the warm wind carried
Its song into the night
I closed my eyes and tarried
Until the morning light""As the last star it shimmered
And the new sun's day gave birth
It was in this magic moment
Came this prayer for mother earth""The moonlight it was dancing
On the waves, out on the sea
The stars of heaven hovered
In a shimmering galaxy""And the voice from down the ages
So haunting in its song
These ancient stones will tell us
Our love must make us strong"
[Beneath a Phrygian Sky - Loreena McKennitt]
The last draw of the bow upon the violin string ends as her voice fades and Jerod lowers it as Carina approaches, wiping the tears from his face as he whispers to her, a few words, no more, and they step back together to make room for the next speaker.
The effect, the meaning and the passion is totally unexpected but affects her strongly. Her heart speeds. Everything Celina has worked up regards Lucas' funeral flows through her mind and settles downward into the dark. Her careful arrangements of words to say for Cambina are lost. A storm of her own emotions rises from that dark down within her own private feelings.
Celina tries to still her face. What she's seen is touching and sad and that batters at the poise of her expression. The deaths of Lucas and Cambina get tangled in her own unresolved emotions regards equally dangerous things afoot in this family. The inner storm batters her control, overflows and she weeps, unable to summon the surfacer reflex to not tear up in air where tears dance down your face. Celina clamps her teeth on a moan of sorrow as Jerod and Carina finish. She swallows against the sadness, pushing it down into the dark with her preparations.
Overcome, trembling and with a storm behind her eyes dulling them down to emerald black, Celina takes a step backwards away from the speaker's platform. She cannot speak now. She crosses her arms to quiet the tremble. There will be others talking. Given a moment, she may be able to present a better face.
When it comes his time to speak, Edan moves to the podium. He wears boots, a hooded aba robe, and turban of the darkest black, and a kaftan and blousy pants of charcoal grey; despite black not being a funerary color in the Land of Peace, obviously some tailor in Xanadu has been working overtime in the attempt to incorporate both colors and fashions for this occasion. In keeping with the funeral, Edan wears an embroidered belt of the deepest violet, worked through with gold thread. A similar dark amethyst gem pins the turban above his forehead. His affine is either not present or not visible.
"I never had the chance to meet Cambina, daughter of Eric," he begins, "but I know her words. When I arrived here, it was her histories that enlightened me and told me of the family and of the long reign of Oberon. I have read her books. I grew to know the way she spoke, her turns of phrase, her directness and her subtleness, the intonation and connotation. I wish I had met her, talked to her. I am poorer man, for not having that opportunity. Despite the misfortune of circumstance, let me be known as a friend of Cambina. May her name always be spoken with love, honor, respect. May the memory of her endure, and always with fondness." And with that, he bows again, and steps down.
Fletcher is a somber presence, tall and black-clad, standing near to Benedict [assuming Benedict is present] and Lilly. He remains alert, learning what he can of the strangers around him, many of whom are his kin. He would have wished for a more pleasant introduction, and mourns for those he will now never meet.
Signy stands off to the side, matching many of her newly found family in all black clothing. She makes no move to step forward and speak, her emerald eyes muted as they scan through the crowd identifying cousins she knows and trying to figure out the identities of those that she doesn't.
Paige watches her twins as a mother hawk might new fledglings, sharp and concerned, but with pride as they wear their new clothes, Lief pulling at it less than she expects. Brooke seems taken by the sentiments and is absorbed by the interactions about the room, noting them if not understanding them all. She is dressed in the same black dress she wore to Daeon's funeral, her hair cropped even shorter than that sad day.
When she approaches the platform, there is a long moment before she forms the words.
"She was a Power."
Anything else seems too personal, too close. Less than a decade, yet perhaps more than any of her cousins, save one, Cambina had seen Paige, had kenned her. She returns to her children without tears.
A veiled shadow haunts the congregation's periphery -- a radiant ghost dressed in fluid indigo. Her delicate hand idly caresses the onyx choker upon her throat.
Silhouette is no stranger to obsequies and finds their somberness agreeable. Thus far, this ceremony had pleased her with its minimalism. The subdued emotions were also acceptable. Mourners, in truth, interfered with the progression of the soul into its next incarnation -- their emotions confusing the spirit and trapping it in Limbo. She finds herself longings for the elegant funeral rites of her homelands, but these are suitable for the time being.
And more importantly, the congregation provides her the perfect opportunity to study the Family at their worst -- her mother, in particular. From behind an obscuring veil of dark silk, she obverses the woman's every moment, every gesture, every expression. She burns them into her memory like hot brands.
Did you wear black for me, I wonder.
Did you grip your brother's arm so?
Silhouette's fingers brush over the cool onyx again.
We shall see soon enough, won't we?
Hannah opts for a simple dress the color of the sky, with a black band tied round her left arm. She shifts her skirt out of her way as she steps up to speak. It is to the sky she looks, distant, before she looks around at the family gathered here and speaks.
"When I had but images of my ancestors in my mind, it was Cambina who gave them their names. She was help, she was bold in her knowing, and she made me feel as if I'd come home. I found her welcoming, and will miss her kindnesses and good advice." Hannah steps back in silence.
Bleys steps forward.
"Cambina was a malcontent," he begins, then waits for the expected shock at his statement and continues smoothly.
"I adore malcontents. The contented never change the world. She could have stayed in her mother's home and been who she was raised to be, but she refused. She made herself a place in Amber and used her talents and the position she'd wrested for herself to do what she wanted.
"When books and archives lied to her, she asked the participants and made her own books. Her History of Amber is a prize. Anyone who wants to know what is behind what gets taught in the nurseries of the rich and powerful should find it and treasure it.
"When the need arose, she made history rather than recording it. When she had the chance to build her knowledge first hand, she did.
Bleys turns towards Random. "Your Highness, Nobles and Gentles of Xanadu, may your new city produce women like Cambina."
He bows his head and steps back to rejoin Fiona. She is smiling faintly at Bleys.
Julian, resplendent in his white armor, steps forward. "I did not have the opportunity to know Cambina very well, for in the years that she lived in the Castle I spent most of my days in Arden. That is my loss, and one that will now never be remedied. What I do know of her is that in a time when it would have been easy to shirk her duty, first to her father and then later to Amber at large, Cambina performed it to the best of her abilities. Let that memory lighten grief."
Llewella speaks next. "She would have made a fine Rebman," is all she has to say.
When Celina looks nearby, she sees that Khela is not in the Rebman party.
Brita, resplendent in her formal red jacket with the snow white fur trim, steps up and says "Cousin Cambina was a Deep Font of Knowledge, Courage, and Spirit. She could have Taught us All much - About the World and Ourselves. She will be Greatly Missed."
Vere has remained quietly with his father and mother, his face closed throughout the service. He has watched those speaking of Cambina without changing expression, and his attention has remained fixed upon whomever was speaking. He seems to pay no attention to anyone else at the service, and he has remained motionless, other than once reaching with his right hand to lightly stroke the multi-coloured lock in his braided hair (coincidentally, he did this when Robin was looking in his direction).
Now he steps forward and says, "Cambina was someone I could count upon, for her wisdom, her knowledge, and her insight. When I doubted my own conclusions, I could count upon her to understand my reasoning, and point out anywhere she thought I might have erred. I considered her a friend." He bows his head briefly, then steps back to stand with his parents once more.
Conner finds himself at a loss for words. As a diplomat he knows all the proper soothing sounds to make about a death but such platitudes would ring hollow here. It is Julian's speech that convinces Conner to step forward and speak. It is not necessary to know her well to speak well of her.
"I knew Cambina primarily from our time together on the Regency Council." Conner says. "She worked with a sharp intellect, a deft touch, and wry humor when the mood took her." Conner pauses for moment. "I've been thinking back on her words of late, her pronouncements both true and forgotten. I think she knew this day was coming. I think she knew and faced it head on without fear or flinching for not even this would keep her from living as she willed. She was a remarkable woman and a true Lady of Amber. She will be missed."
Nestor starts to step forward from where he stands with the other Librarians, lets out a jagged sob, and steps back. A member of his staff tries to comfort him, but he just shakes his head, quietly crying.
Ossian steps forward and opens his mouth as if to speak. Then he apparently changes his mind, and picks out a small wooden flute from a pocket. He plays a short, heartbreaking tune, then steps back.
Martin's dressed in his usual dark blue; he doesn't look out of place among the mourners even though he's wearing what amounts to everyday court clothes. Someone, perhaps Folly, has gone to some effort to make sure his clothes have been pressed. With his hair too short to fall messily in his face, he looks as well put together as he has since the coronation, and before that, Lucas' wedding. He hovers closely around Folly as his various friends and kinsmen speak.
"I was lucky enough to get to work with Cambina for five years on the Regency Council. She was in charge of helping rebuild the aqueducts and other public works that had been damaged in the Sundering. She was a hard worker and kept a level head when other people didn't. That was why I knighted her, and I wish we could have honored her more.
"I knew when I got to Amber what it meant to be a Queen's grandson. She was one of the people who taught me what it meant to be the King's child in Amber, all the obligations and the duties that entailed, even though she never wanted to be called Princess. I'll miss her counsel as well as her friendship."
Folly stands with Martin as he speaks, her fingers laced through his, her head slightly bowed. In her somber, voluminous dress of deep purple and black, she radiates a quiet calm, though faint traces of fallen tears glitter on her lashes and her cheeks.
In the silence that falls after Martin finishes speaking, Folly lifts her gaze to take in the gathered crowd. "Perhaps," she says after a moment, "we feel Cambina's absence so acutely because in life she was too great to be contained in a single time and place, and so dwelled everywhere at once: in the living rock of the castle on Kolvir, in the ships she led across the sea, in the city she loved in the moonlit night sky; in the past, bringing history to life; in the future, guiding and being guided by her remarkable vision; and in the present, serving the city she helped save and the family she loved---"
Her voice catches in her throat; Folly lifts her eyes to the sky, to the waning crescent moon chasing the setting sun toward the horizon. "Cambina-- I know we didn't always see eye to eye, but your candor was a gift -- as was your wealth of knowledge, freely shared. You wrote of history, but you also _made_ history -- shaped the present, to make a better future. I will sing your deeds to my children and my children's children. We will remember you."
Many of the citizens of Xanadu and Amber are looking at Folly and those family members who are close to them can hear them speculating about the lady's condition.
Merlin steps forward, which may surprise those who know him. "When I arrived in Amber, I was an unknown alien. Cambina welcomed me as a kinsman, which she did not have to do. I grieve her passing, and that she had no children." It sounds like a very precisely worded speech, and when he completes it, Merlin returns to his place by Celina.
Caine steps up, wearing a dark outfit that is not formal mourning but certainly seems somber. "My brother Eric was proud of his children, and rightfully so. She knew her duty to her King, her family, her friends, and herself. It is a loss to the realms that she is gone, and not a thing to be allowed to pass unanswered."
Random shifts slightly, and Caine pauses. "Let us be careful, for even Princesses can fall."
Caine steps down.
An Amberite steps up, causing a bit of a stir. The young noble is Grip, heir to Earl Raptor and Cambina's half-brother. "Few of you know me, and I did not know my sister well. My father is too ill to attend but sends his condolences and respects. It is a great sadness." He steps back smoothly.
There is a significant wait for the mourners to quiet after his speech, as many people are talking amongst themselves. Those nearby the contingent from Amber can overhear the discussions. The nobles are divided between those who think that Grip and Raptor are audacious and those who feel they have overstepped.
Brennan steps up, toward the end of the speakers, dressed in mourning black, but he does not speak. There are moments when sorrow runs so deep, so inexpressible, that freezing it into spoken word only somehow tarnishes it, turning profundity into profanity. But it is the nature of those moments that even that much cannot properly be spoken. And those who know Brennan already know that this is such a time.
So he faces inward, seeking something not often found, and almost never in public. When he reaches it, he sings, without accompaniment.
"Don`t let us get sick
Don`t let us get old
Don`t let us get stupid, all right?
Just make us be brave
And make us play nice
And let us be together tonightThe sky was on fire
When I walked to the mill
To take up the slack in the line
I thought of my friends
And the troubles they`ve had
To keep me from thinking of mineDon`t let us get sick
Don`t let us get old
Don`t let us get stupid, all right?
Just make us be brave
And make us play nice
And let us be together tonight
Those who are near the King can hear him singing along quietly in the second and third choruses. His voice is excellent.
The moon has a face
And it smiles on the lake
And causes the ripples in Time
I was lucky to be here
With someone I love
Who maketh my spirit to shineDon`t let us get sick
Don`t let us get old
Don`t let us get stupid, all right?
Just make us be brave
And make us play nice
And let us be together tonight."
["Don't Let Us Get Sick," Warren Zevon.]
Brennan does not have what anyone would consider a pure, singer's voice. But what voice he has, he controls well, much better than he controls his face. When he is finished, he hesitates a moment, as if to say more, but does not. He returns to the gathered crowd, standing with Bleys and Fiona, the mask more or less in place once again.
Corwin, who was a composer of popular ballads in his day, nods his approval of this choice to Brennan as he steps forward. "Cambina was my brother's daughter. Her father and I didn't get on--" and there are some interesting expressions among the nobles at that serious understatement of matters "--but she made it clear to me that she didn't hold those old grievances against me. Her memory will be honored in Paris as well as in Xanadu and Amber."
Instead of returning immediately to his place among the Parisians, Corwin makes a point of moving by Jerod and briefly offering condolences directly.
Only those close by will hear Jerod offer his thanks for Corwin's words. It is more noticeable when Jerod offers his hand to Corwin. There are many ways to remember his sister, and hanging on to the past is not one of them.
When no one else steps up, Random comes forward again.
"Thank you all for coming. I'm sure Cambina would be pleased with the sentiments I heard expressed here today. I proclaim a period of mourning of a tennight for Cambina and for Lucas, son of Princess Florimel. The flag will be lowered to half-mast and the castle and court will be available for urgent business only."
Random leads the Royal Party back into the castle. The nobles and castle servants start to depart in some orderly fashion, down to the city.
Last modified: 11 May 2010