Robin lurks on the edge of the crowd, acknowledging those who acknowledge her but otherwise keeping to herself. The girl is dressed in deep dark pine greens with no firelizards visible. Her leathers are brushed, clean and beautiful -- but for this event, Robin is distinctly wearing trousers. Nicely tailored and formal, but trousers nonetheless. Perhaps that is why she seems to be avoiding Julian and the Ranger contingent.
Her green eyes watch the King and crowd from under a brow furrowed with sadness. But Jeord and Carina? They bring a cock to the girl's head and a hidden warm smile to her lips.
And then comes the sound of swelling darkness -- as distinct and familiar to the girl's senses as an actual cry. Robin's head swivels until her ears can pick out the source. There. Near the Rat-Bastard Himself.
Weeeellll, maybe if she cuts an oblique course.
Easing her way through the crowd as though it was a particularly dense stand, Robin finds her way to a place just behind Celina's shoulder on whatever side Corwin is not.
"Cousin," she murmurs quietly to green woman who wept and celebrated at her own brother's funeral. "Would you allow me to fight back my own darkness by aiding you with yours?" Yuck. That came out way more... Vere than she meant it to, but, but, but. Oh, pooh.
Celina doesn't turn or glance towards the feminine voice. It takes a moment to sort it out because she's been looking for Khela and the new queen just isn't there. How could she not be there?
Anger glows from within her dark inner depths. Oh no, we shall not go there. Celina shoves the bloody glimmer back into the cold deep.
Celina shifts her stance enough to give a view over her shoulder without a disrespectful turn of her attention from the speakers. Robin. Deep lords, she lost Jovian and was probably close to Lucas and Cambina. And she senses my weakness. Her face blooms a darker shade of green blush. There are more tears.
Celina doesn't quite know what is offered. A chat later? A touch now? It would be so simple under the waves. Family. They would hold each other.
Lucas was friendly too. He wanted to help. He used you because you were unknowing. Because you were weak. Just like now.
Celina shivers, suddenly anxious at the scarlet thoughts slipping upward from the anger. Her breathing falters. She thinks of Jerod. Ginger drinks to soothe the dry air. Jerod's kindness and his love for Carina. These people are not all going to use her. Family matters for something here and it is not all show. Or if they are going to make her a dupe, she may as well step forward into being used. It will at least look ...more elegant.
Celina won't break form and look away from the speakers. But she eases backward a half step and allows her hip and shoulder to brush against the neatly attired lady of the Rangers. Her chest shivers with spasms.
"Thank you." Robin murmurs sincerely, and hesitantly wraps one of Celina's shoulders, with a gentle arm. Her own eyes grow liquid with sympathetic tears as her cousin cries.
"You are not alone, Celina." The girl's voices whispers out of her. "He is not alone." Those green eyes dart to Jerod, that singularly solitary man, intertwined with Carina.
"And," Robin's gaze hovers over to where Vere stands with his family, brushing aside his hair. The sight brings warmth, strength and an undercurrent of exaltation to her that she tries to let flow into her murmur like a warm wind, "I am not alone. None of us have to be alone anymore."
A gentle squeeze accompanies her words. They are here. Together. Cousins. Family. Women of heightened perception. And they will not be overwhelmed by the darkness.
As the funeral ends Vere leans towards his parents and says quietly, "I will speak with you both soon. We have much to say." He kisses his mother's cheek and lays a hand on his father's shoulder briefly, then heads towards where Robina and Celina stand. He pauses just before reaching them, his eyes on Robin.
ike a warm wind, she can feel Him approaching and a shiver of delight runs through Robin's frame. She loosens her hug of Celina but does NOT let go.
Robin meets Vere's eyes with a joyous bonfire under the tears and her lighthouse-bright smile welcomes him. She glances over to Celina, her overwhelmed cousin, assuring her without words that she is more than welcome to stay in their company. Oooooorrrr, if Celina needs a more familiar camp, maaayyybbe... Merlin?
Celina is not ready to lose the touch of another understanding vibration, but she nods at Robin when she looks back and moves in Merlin's direction. The Seaward cousin smiles at Vere, who she respects quite deeply from their previous chats.
With a quick squeeze of Robin's hand, Celina moves off in Merlin's direction, giving the two space to talk in private.
"Thank you." Robin murmurs to Celina again, hoping her cousin can find the same path out of the darkness that she did, that of helping someone who must feel even more overwhelmed and alone that a Rebman or a Ranger, the poor sole Chaosi in the group.
"Celina," Vere says, in both a greeting and a farewell, as she begins to leave. "We will speak again in Paris, if not before."
His eyes never leave Robin, however.
Merlin is only too happy to give his cousins their privacy and head off toward the castle, putting them at his back. But he courteously makes sure that Celina can keep up in her funeral garb.
"How did you find the ceremony, sister? Was it what you expected?" he asks, looking for any topic that has nothing to do with the icky romantic business going on behind them.
Celina's response is to use Merlin's extraordinary posture as plum for her own dignity. She doesn't lean on him exactly, but she can't see well through tears and her breathing is modestly hitched. It helps to have a kinetic image alongside that is true to form. "Not really, no. In form, it was like Adonis' funeral but in content, it knocked the jelly out of me."
They manage between them to make a retreat look good. She gives Merlin a spontaneous hug when they are within the cool shadows of the castle. "For being my good and steady friend." Robin's words echo inside. 'None of us have to be alone anymore.'
Celina lets that warmth whisper into her and rises above the hitch in her breathing. Not alone. It could be true. It could be made to be true. Even if she lost Merlin, or Robin, or Folly, or Martin, or Connor, or ... it could still be true. Celina slowly releases the tightness in her chest and takes a deeper breath. She can still feel the anger tightening her lungs. She cannot dismiss it. She doesn't try to hide from that failure. She can't stop the tears. Martin told her: you can't hide. Among the things she never learned much about: concealing herself. She's never really learned to hide what she thought she was.
Green girl in a land of ...she needed to talk to Llewella before the chance slipped away.
Celina looks at Merlin, seeing in his posture he is off somewhere soon. She holds back from kissing him soundly because it would make his face ...squirm in that delightful way. She smiles instead. "I need to tend my face a bit and then talk to Llewella. Thank you and I shall see you when we return to Paris?"
"Yes, of course. If you are certain you are all right?" Merlin clearly isn't certain that she is himself.
"Pieces of family die before I can even learn what they mean to me," Celina whispers to him, feeling the anger and dark swell beneath her, "and it is making me all a tempest." She smiles and pushes down again on her deep shadows. "But you help make me all right."
"I am glad that I can help. Everyone is disturbed now." Merlin moves to take Celina's hand and squeeze it, a gesture that appears the result of study more than genuine impulse. "I do not wish to leave you if you are upset."
"It will be well enough," Celina says. "I have to manage. It will get better. I refuse to believe I'm made wrongly. So I must adjust."
Merlin makes a noise that is not quite a sigh. "This is frequently the case in the Ordered realms. For masters of the universe, we spend a great deal of time adjusting to it. If you would speak with me, I plan to return to Paris after I speak with Martin."
"Good," Celina nods. "I'll be returning to Paris for the funeral and to settle the Moire business as best our father permits. We will travel together."
Merlin nods to some part of it. "After the funeral, I believe it will be time for me to leave Paris. Vere has asked me for some assistance in healing his father. I suspect I currently am in worse odor with our father than you over Lucas' death, and it is clear that your path lies Rebmaward, where I feel I should not return at this time."
Celina sighs. "Yes. Rebma. It is attached to me like a limpet. All of the joy and excitement of the place is darkened by Moire Methods to get me there and make me into...whatever. I shall be asking after Chaos connections to that City's history. If you manage well with Vere's requests, later there may be some commentary you would enjoy making on whatever I discover there. I know you have not finished my Trump sketch." It gives her eel shivers to think about her sketch since Lucas' death. She grins because she wants to tack against the breeze. "However, you may finish it and call me. I would like that."
She doesn't hug him. She does squeeze his hand rather fiercely. "Vere is a good fellow. I hope your conversation with Martin goes well." With that blessing, she lets him go gracefully.
"Veeerrrreeee." His name breathes out of her, more an elemental force than a mere word. And quicker than thought she is in his arms, pressing herself to him. Her kiss is seeks to pour herself into his soul and drink his into her.
He doesn't speak as he sweeps her up in his arms and returns the kiss with all the passion in his soul, laughing with the pure joy that seeing and touching her once more gives him. He lifts her off the ground and spins her around, as the laughter gives way to deep sighs.
Finally he lifts his head and gazes down into her eyes, still holding her in his arms, and says, "Robin." He lowers her until her feet once more touch the ground, and he says, quietly and intensely. "My love."
Robin's exultant laughter twines skyward with Vere's as she soars in his embrace. And when their eyes meet, there is only, only Him. Though her feet may stand on soil, her Self still soars.
She answers him not with words, but with a purely primal thrum of ecstasy. She is His and he is with her. There is nothing else at all, in all of existence.
He lowers his head and lets his forehead rest on hers for a long moment. Then, with a chuckle, he kisses the tip of her nose and steps back, catching both her hands in his. He looks at her, the smile on his face mirroring the joy in his eyes. "Let us walk," he says, and drops one hand, keeping his fingers entwined in her other hand, turning to lead her away from the palace, along the cliffside overlooking the sea.
A happy chirrup bubbles up out of Robin and she contents herself to stroll along at Vere's side, arm in arm, occasionally bumping him fondly with her shoulder. As they move, Robin slowly settles back down into a place where there are words. "Oo! Vere. Friends. Too young for Funeral. Meet soon."
Okay, not a lot of words, but words nonetheless.
Vere chirps inquisitively, a perfect imitation of a robin's companionable call to its mate.
Robin giggles in delight, bright eyes twinkling. Sooo good. Communicating with his wild partner without words or language. Love him, love him, love him!
A broad grin spreads across Robin's face and she rushes toward the cliffside, never letting go of Vere's hand. As familiar as he is with Robin's darts and dashes, Vere can tell that she doesn't mean to throw them over the edge at this time. She just wants to get the very open air as soon as possible.
Once there, Robin halts and throws her free hand skyward. An odd musical call lifts from her throat, not bird-like, but more like a soprano version of the Dragonsong. An excited, happy piping answers her and down from the twilight they come. Three twining shapes, the fading sunlight glittering off their skin: gold, bronze and bronze. Tiny delicate versions of Canareth and Hoshith.
"Ahh," Vere breathes, delight showing in his face. "Exquisite!" He stands very still, his head cocked at an inquisitive angle, as he watches the beautiful creatures descend upon Robin.
Nearly dancing with giddiness, Robin greets her little friends with croons and chirps as they coil and flutter to her shoulders and arm. Once everyone is settled, she snuggles up against Vere and commences the introductions: "Peep," the gold, "Chirrup" the slightly larger bronze, "Ooot" the more lithe bronze. For Vere, Robin doesn't even try to make those into words. They are firelizard sounds. After all, it would be silly to name her friends things they couldn't pronounce.
"Peep, Chirrup, Ooot," Vere repeats, mimicking the musical names as Robin introduces the firelizards. As he says each name he stares into the whirling eyes that watch him.
After the names, Robin looks at Vere with shining eyes, touches her heart and each of her darlings in turn. They are in her heart and she is in theirs.
Robin's light ramps up even higher as she smiles into the gaily spinning eyes of the firelizards and says, "Vere!" ending with a trill of absolute joy. She is so excited to have them meet the Good Thing. The Best of all Good Things. And for them, she touches her own heart and then lets her hand rest over Vere's.
Moving slowly and avoiding any sudden motions Vere leans in to kiss Robin amidst her brightly colored forest of reptilian necks and wings.
She meets his kiss with absolute joy and abandon. Around them, a warm contented thrum fills the air as both Robin and the firelizards 'purr' their happiness into the world. There's a little comfortable shifting and Chirrup ends up on Vere's shoulder, his tail still twined around Robin's neck and they are all there together, so very, very not alone.
They stand entwined like that for a long while, on the edge of the great cliff, the power of their love echoing the underlying power of the great Pattern that anchors this Reality, and mirrors the reality of the blood surging through their veins. Finally, reluctantly, Vere ends the kiss, starts to speak, then decides to kiss her eyelids first. Right, then left, then right again. And then the tip of her nose once more. He chuckles.
Robin snuggles into the lizards-&-love pile more firmly under Vere's kisses, but as his chuckles reach her ears, she peeps open her green eyes at him. There's a flash of humor there, then she reluctantly lets the humanity flow back into her. "Okay, words." She grins fondly at him.
He grins back. "Someday," he promises, "We shall have the time to run through the forests, and sail the seas, and go for weeks with never a word."
She wriggles in delight. Oo, doesn't that sound wonderful!
And of course, there will also be times of playing in the Library, building elaborate concepts out of histories and lore for her scholarly love. Though Robin admits that Vere is going to have to do most of the actual reading bits.
He slips an arm around her, and eases down until the two of them are sitting on the edge of the cliff, their feet dangling over the long drop to the harbour so far below.
"Tonight, however, I think there are things we must say before we part once more."
Making herself comfortable against Vere, Robin contentedly swings her feet in the open air. "Oka-ay," she allows, but doesn't really know where to start and so gestures for Vere to let loose what's on his mind.
Vere sits quietly for a few minutes, just enjoying being there with her. Then he says softly, "The most important thing, I suppose, is that I shall be journeying with Merlin beyond Ygg, to learn to shift my shape."
Wow. Robin blinks for a moment. Thoughts and emotions whip through her like a whirlwind. Fear for her love, uncertainty regarding his chosen mentor, worry about the distance that will be between them. Confidence that Vere knows what he's doing, tolerance for the being who helped saved Amber's armies, belief that she and Vere can manage the horrific consequences.
"Okay," she says. Then thinks about it a little more. "Can you make sure that Merlin has a way to get a hold of me, Gerard and Solange? In case, you need help re-integrating? You know, identity-puddle-accident?" Her smile is a little faltering, but she's game.
Vere smiles at her words. "I shall endeavour not to puddify," he tells her, "But you are correct that it would be best to have a plan in place just in case. The three of you would no doubt have the best chance of assisting me in reintegrating in such an event. I have a trump for Father, I can tell Merlin to take it from me and use it should it be necessary. Solange ... might be more difficult. I do not have a trump of her, and she has been banished from Amber, and will avoid Paris for the time being, so I do not think that I will see her before I depart. As for contacting you ..." his eyes narrow, as possibilities and obligations realign themselves in his head, and then he chuckles. "I may just have a way."
She perks up with curiosity. "Oh, telll me!"
Then her brow furrows, "Then tell me why Solange is exiled from Amber." Because of course, anyone with any sense avoids Paris so that needs no explanation.
Vere nods. "The story of Castor's Dilemma first, the tale of Solange's Error later." His voice takes on an almost musical cadence as he speaks, falling into the storytelling patterns he is familiar with. "While I was in Paris I left Castor in charge of the Children. While I was gone Moire arrived at the camp of the Folk of the Isles, and demanded that the Children follow her, to aid her in her struggle against Khela for the throne of Rebma. The Children were torn, some holding to their oaths to me, some to their fealty to her as the Queen of Rebma. They near came to blows over this. Castor, who held to his faith to me, told the others that they could leave, and he would not send word to me until they had departed. Now, in my heart I hold that he was in an impossible position, torn by conflicting oaths, and I blame Moire for putting him and the Children in such a position. I believe he did as well as he could in this situation. Bu the feels he failed his oath to me, and there was concern that he might take his own life, once he had reported to me."
Vere shakes his head slowly. "In my heart, I wanted to tell him there was no fault, and he had done well. But he would not have believed it. He needed to be punished for his failure, for through punishment, and through atonement, he might come to forgive himself. So I ordered that for his failure he must serve me, in whatever capacity I choose, until such time as I judge he has redeemed himself. I thought me that a few years of travelling through the different worlds, and aiding me in fighting such battles as I might encounter, would aid him in seeing things in a different light.
"But this was before I knew that I must travel into Chaos. I do not know that I have the skill to keep a human man alive there, so I worried what I might do with him. Now, it occurs to me that he might well serve as a link. I can order him to travel with you, and aid you as he can. He is a trained warrior, and a skilled diplomat as well, so he will be of use to you. And I can ask Merlin to ensorcel him, such that he may use him to speak through, should he need to contact you."
Vere looks down at Robin nestled against him. "How seems this plan to you?"
"Ironic," she answers with a wry chuckle.
"My love? I have just had it proven to me, in no uncertain terms, that I know nothing about the care and feeding of honorable men. I've got to fight a duel against Venesch after the Funerals 'cause I suck at it so badly." She wrinkles her nose and sticks out her tongue.
"Redemptive modeling, I can do. And I'm sure your nice young man will find his time with me a true punishment, buuuuttt... how to make sure he emerges redeemed. Not sullied to extinction?"
"A duel? With Venesch?" Vere ignores her question in favour of this startling piece of news. "Whyever would the Captain be so foolish as to challenge you?"
"Ummmm, because I insulted his honor so grievously that he must? I guess?" she shrugs sadly. "Brita and Jerod seem to understand it. You probably would too, given what you just said about Castor. But I don't. And since I was the only one there? Horrific consequences." She shrugs again.
Vere hugs her tightly. "Have you got this under control?" he asks her. "Is there anything I can do to help you? Perhaps if I were to speak to him before I leave for Paris?"
"Thank you, my love." There's a little hiccup in her voice as she hugs him back. "But nooooo. I've got to learn how to live around people who aren't Rangers. And they've got to learn how to trust me."
She snuggles into him for comfort. "This isn't going to be pretty and it isn't going to be fun, but... no one's going to die and I guess it's time I stopped acting like prey and joined my Family." Robin's voice is a sad mix of reluctance and determination.
Vere trills comfortingly, a mixture of nightingale and lark, and then eases into the comforting cooing of a dove.
"MMmmmm." Robin nuzzles Vere, relaxing into the familiar sounds and warmth.
Eventually, she returns to the subject at hand. "But how to prevent something similar happening with Castor?"
Vere rests his head against Robin's. "Take this as a chance to further your goal of learning to live around those who are not Rangers," he tells her. "And know that whatever you may do to him is less damaging than were I to take him into the madness of Chaos."
An evil chuckle ripples through Robin. "Etiquette instructor to Robin of Arden. Poor bastard. Okay, we'll do it."
He nuzzles her hair for a moment, breathing in the intoxicating scent of her. "Will you be coming to Paris for Lucas' funeral?" he asks. "I know you have no love of Corwin, but Avis would like to see you. And it would make it simpler to hand off Castor to you. And, as well, we could speak with Merlin, and perhaps ease your mind somewhat on my coming journey." He chuckles into her hair. "Or else give you enou' information to make your worries better founded."
"I... can't, Vere." She sighs.
"I...'ve been starting to talk. To... people; Brennan and Garrett. Silhouette and Venesch -- all of people! About things. Black Road things." She looks at him with deep eyes. "I wish I was talking to you, but... well, maybe it's better if you don't carry that burden too.
"Anyway," she looks out over the evening water and waves herself along. "There... well, turns out there's actually a problem. Beyond my standard melodrama, that is. And I know if I go to Paris... it would be Bad. I don't know yet if it would be actual-universe-destroying Bad. Or just Robin-becomes-completely-psychotic Bad. Either way, I don't want to do that to Paris, my Family or Lucas' memory. So no. I won't go to Paris unless the King directly orders me to."
Robin tips back her head to peep up at up. "Will you convey fond thoughs to Avis and Siege? As well as my deep sorrow and condolences to Solace and the kids? Aunt Florimel too? Damn, I wish there was time to make pupp... errrr, presents to send with you."
Vere is silent as she talks about the Black Road, but he smiles and nods at her request. "I will convey the messages," he says, "and I will ask Father to see to it that Castor finds you."
"Thank you, love." She straightens to look directly into his eyes.
"And please know that even if you... I... Veeeeerrrrreeee, I would never fight it. Never even try to... get better. Never come out of the woods. If it wasn't for you and Dad. Even if you aren't there to hear or hold, you are with me. Aaaalllllwaaaayyyssss."
Robin breathes that in a soul-sending wind and puts her hand over Vere's heart again, letting its steady rhythm define her world.
"Always and in all ways," he answers her, putting his own hand over hers and pressing it to his chest. He falls silent then, staring into her eyes.
Robin looses herself there in wonder. How did she ever get so lucky as to win this miracle's love?
After an eternity, she shakes herself back. "Oo! Next story, please." she begs with a grin. "the Tale of Solange's Error?" While she loves Vere's cadence, she wonders how Solange of all people got banished from Amber before she did.
"The Error of Solange," he intones. "A tale of misjudgement, of good intentions, and of conflicting obligations. It began, for me, while I was leading the people of the Isles in their Exodus. Solange contacted me, via the trump in the King's trump booth, to speak with me on the matter of Cambina's death and Queen Vialle's vanishment. She asked would I be willing to call up Cambina's shade, to learn what had led to her death, and to seek to learn what we could of where the Queen might be, so that she could be rescued.
"Of course I agreed. It seemed a logical course of action, and no doubt there was vanity in my decision, that I could aid in saving the Queen and affixing the blame for our cousin's death, in a way that no other member of the Family could do. I saw no reason not to agree.
"And yet, when Solange contacted me some short time later, it was clear she was agitated. She trumped through, bringing Cambina's body with her, which was not what we had agreed upon. She confessed that Father, Uncle Corwin, and Hannah had all objected to this plan, thinking it risky. From what she said, I took it that they were opposed, but had not outright forbidden it. It is still unclear to me whether Solange merely misunderstood what they said, or whether Father and Corwin had assumed that merely stating their objection was sufficient, and that she would understand that it was forbidden. If the latter is the case, they sadly misjudged Solange."
Robin chuckles fondly. Go, sis!
"She told me of their objections, and laid out her reasons why she felt we should go through with it. I listened to her, and then attempted to trump my father. There was no answer, leaving it to me to make the decision." He smiles, a trifle grimly. "So perhaps the tale should be called the Error of Vere, instead. I made the decision, and summoned Cambina's shade. I reasoned that their objections were based on unthinking objections to necromancy, and a lack of understanding of what it was I proposed to do, and that I knew better than they. Later, I was told that it had been outright forbidden, until Random and Jeord could be consulted upon the matter. For that I had not know this, I was not punished for what I had done. But Solange was banished from Amber, for disobedience to the Regent, until such time as King Random shall allow her to return. I do not know if this banishment extends to Xanadu as well, but I note that she did not attend this funeral. And I think me she has no desire to meet with Corwin anytime soon. Jerod is wroth with me, but we have spoken, and he desires no vengeance. Brennan I have not yet spoken with, but must do so soon."
His smile becomes faintly mocking. "No doubt, had I learned ought of use, and aided in rescuing the Queen, forgiveness for Solange would have been more forthcoming. But Cambina's spirit was far away, and it was difficult to contact her. I learned..." he pauses, "...nothing of import to the case," he finally concludes. "And Jerod has forbidden that I do this again, so I shall not learn e'en why it was so difficult to contact her."
He shakes his head and leans against Robin with a sigh. "And that is the tale, my love."
"Awwww," Robin croons softly to Vere. And shifts herself and the lizard-pile around a little so that she can hug and comfort him. For another endless moment, she holds him, kissing the top of his head gently, letting her warmth and thereness be for him.
Then Vere can feel her focusing for one of her more lengthy ramblings.
"Ah, my Love. I'm having my own troubles with Jerod and Brennan right now, and what I've come up with is this.
"Despite the Family traditions, I cannot continue believing that mere success defines right or wrong. Too easy, too cheap. We have to -- must -- bring our own consciences into play. Or we'll spend the next eternity being a bunch of squabbling, in-fighting, self-righteous bastards too. And frankly, I don't think that's a viable survival strategy any longer."
Vere nods in agreement with her assesment.
"Now, none of Us come into our true nature without a plateful of vanity and willfulness. And a great heaping tureen of arrogance. It's not a great thing, but it's not a terrible thing either - if we can balance off of one another. But the key is balance -- neither believing that you are always right, nor allowing others (or yourself) to tell you that you are always wrong.
"Of course, it was reasonable to ask Cambina's shade what had happened. Who better? But before you just accept the judgment of others, find out why they think what they do. And stop acting like prey yourself." She squeezes him fondly.
Vere chuckles in response.
"See, the things you and I do, love? They're new. They don't have centuries of trial and error and understanding backing them. Of course, they're not always going to work great first time on the trail. Maybe not even the second or third time. But think how much would be lost or unlearned if a single failed effort stopped an entire line of research.
"While we very much need to pay attention to the warnings of people with vastly more experience than ourselves, we also do our Kingdoms and our Family no good if we hide our skills or let them atrophy because we fear censure. Balance again.
"But I'll tell you one concrete thing, my love... necromancy" Robin sneers derogatorily, "You're no necromancer, Vere. You're a medium. I've seen you in action, my miracle. I'll bet you politely asked Cambina's echo if it would care to have a pleasant discussion with you regarding the safety of the Realm. There was probably no compulsion involved, was there? Annnnnndddd I've seen how well the spirits answer your questions or do what you ask. I promise you, love, you are no Master of the Dark Forces. And not likely to be anytime soon."
Robin shakes her head and chuckles ruefully at the memory of some of their encounters.
Vere laughs aloud at that. "No," he agrees. "I am certainly no master of spirits. Nor do I desire such a thing." He hugs her tightly. "Thank you, my love. For your understanding. For being you."
Robin wriggles happily in his embrace, the fires of her joy burning high as she settes herself into her man. "Can't really be anything else," she comments wryly. "You know, love? I figure that we keep on gving each other good advice, we might definitely make it." And she kisses him fondly.
He returns the kiss passionately. Then he chuckles, and pulls back to gaze into her eyes. "Remind me," he says in a husky voice, "To be very, very careful about making vows in the future."
Then Robin gets busy making her one night with her man as memorable but as not-oath-breaking as she can.
Vere's willpower and faithfulness to his oath are put to the test that night, and it is well that he is a son of Gerard. They are awakened to the light of the dawn rising over the distant sea, covered in dew and with the firelizards bemoaning their starving state.
As family traits go, Benedict and Fletcher share height and patience. It is not until twilight, after Cambina's funeral has ended and hours have been spent making introductions and giving more private condolences that the two meet in private in one of Xanadu's well-appointed salons. It might be called a sitting room but Fletcher prefers to stand, which is perhaps another inherited trait.
"Good evening to you sir," he starts formally. "I believe Martin acquainted you with the news of my recent return to Amber. His Majesty seems adamant that I confer with you before making any rash decisions regarding matters of loyalty and fealty." He eyes the space that would otherwise be occupied by his father's absent arm and continues in a lower tone. "I was told about told about the circumstances of your injury. Please accept my condolences for you loss. I cannot help but feel bad for your sake." This expression of sympathy at the death of Benedict's mistress may be surprisingly farther than anyone would expect Fletcher to go in terms of sympathetic gestures.
Benedict stands himself. "I no longer think much on it, but thank you," Benedict says. "The King follows the formal ways in this case. You are my vassal and I his. While your fealty is to him and responsibility for your choices lies with you, he chooses to determine my reaction to you before deciding on his own.
"It is a prudent course he takes."
Benedict turns. "Why have you returned, and why now?"
Fletcher cocks his head, and with all serious begins, "Well you knew I would return. I returned because it was the right thing to do. I returned because I'd already been gone too long. I returned because everything I believe and held dear was threatened and the summons I expected when such a thing occurred did not come. With the moonriders the first time it was understandable. I had other responsibilities that were known. This time, by all accounts was worse, and I was not on any mission. Order cannot and must not fail and I...we all...were meant to ensure that it would not fail. The world seemed to fall apart. I could not help but notice."
He pauses, composes himself a bit, and continues, "I was lost in shadow, without a compass for the first time in...well, ever. And the moonriders tracked me down and chose me as the instrument through which they would file a complaint withthe Court of Amber." He is perhaps a bit indignant on that point. "The complaint was direct against Bleys, my uncle who I have recently learned is also..." He chooses not to finish the sentence, perhaps wisely, and patiently awaits a response.
Benedict is clearly aware of how the sentence would have ended. He does not address the matter. "A great many things have changed since you last contacted us. Much, if not all, is for the better. I presume you are familiar with the outlines of the conflict and the resolution? Good, I shan't have to describe it to you. The Moonriders are but one of the threats which have kept us at least partially united in the aftermath.
Benedict stands stiffly, a mirror of his speech. "I have one requirement of you before allowing you to renew your oath of fealty to me and to King Random. It is my contention that a primary cause of the tragic conflict we have so recently put behind us is the large number of my siblings who had secretly hidden children. The condition I place upon you is that you shall have no children. Do you understand? If so, you are welcome in Avalon and here."
Fletcher suppresses the urge to remind Benedict that women are the ones who have the children and that based on his own childhood, mothers are also primarily responsible for raising the children. Instead he responds, "I do not currently wish to have a child with a woman I do not love, and since those events of my youth I have not found another such woman. I cannot promise to meet your condition as stated though. It is possible that at some point in the distant future it may become my duty to Order, king, and country to produce an heir. If it would be sufficient to swear not to have a child without the consent of you or the king, then I would do so."
"Me, not the King. That would be sufficient." Benedict turns, seemingly done with the topic. "Now, what have you learned of our enemies?"
"If the King accepts that your authority will supercede his in this matter, I have no objection."
Benedict looks nonplussed, but allows Fletcher to continue.
He continues, "As for our enemies, they don't like us much. And they are growing bolder. I'm been made aware of Merlin's mother Dara, the Dragon, and the moonriders. I'm still short on a lot of the details. However, your concern about possible grandchildren also reinforces my concern that we may be our own worst enemy. The danger that an enlarged pool of relatives may factionalize and divide their loyalties between Xanadu, Paris, and Remba seems a possibility. In addition I've heard a bit about Huon and his ambitions. Communication and logistics may be a weak point, especially with Amber isolated and there being no apparent direct path between Xanadu and Paris. I might look into the matter, but it seems first I've volunteered to be the King's emissary to meet with cousin Khela in Rebma. And it seems I've got a lot of family members to meet as well. Are there new family trump decks about these days?"
"None, unless you make them yourself or make yourself indebted to a trump artist. There are more around than Dworkin, these days." He pauses.
Fletcher shrugs.
"Talk to Martin about Khela. He knew her best."
Fletcher has about a million things to say to ask, but tries to be on his best behavior in this awkward time. He continues to stick to simple questions. "I will do so. You mentioned Avalon. It's a place you rule, correct? What is it?"
"It was a place, or a shadow of a place that was Corwin's. I chose it when I was seeking him, because I thought he might be drawn to it, even if he was not himself. I was wrong about that. Instead he made the place he was more like his ideal, unconsciously and with aid, presumably also unconsciously , from Florimel.
"I made it my own, and rule it from the Isle of Apples." He smiles. "It reminds me of Amber in my youth."
"It would be interesting to visit one day. Is its existence publicly known within the family?"
"A number have visited. Few have investigated my secrets in detail, much less penetrated them. I am considered the least interesting Uncle, which suits me well. As my son, you may visit." He leaves the condition he previously made unstated, but it is clear to Fletcher that it is not waived.
"I had not gotten the impression you were considered uninteresting, merely less mischievous than most of your brothers. I've heard several versions of what has happened in the last few years, leading up to Grandad's death and the creation of Paris and Xanadu. I would like to hear your telling of it, as I suspect your version might be more objective than most."
"Hmm. Possibly. Most of it happened while I had absented myself from Felicity. I still kept myself informed of matters in Amber, but I let most people believe that I, like Corwin, was dead and lost in shadow.
"Corwin appeared, in Avalon, as did Dara, whom I did not know at the time. It was an offense against me to name her such, but that was the way of the Chaosians.
"Dara tricked me into attacking Corwin, who fled. Later I returned to Amber to help Eric deal with invaders at the foot of Kolvir. He died that day and Corwin arrived with an army to clean them out, thus making himself a defending hero with an army he brought to be conquerors." He pauses.
"You've heard of Khela, of course? Same story, but fascinating differences in the details of the order of battle." Benedict breathes in and swings his stump towards what presumably is the direction of Amber.
"Afterwards, Corwin was in charge and soon brought Brand back from where he'd been imprisoned. It turns out his gaoler was Bleys, also thought dead for a time. Before very long, it was revealed that Father was with Corwin and began giving orders. Brand was sought out to prevent him doing further harm to the Pattern and we armed for a war to teach Chaos a lesson they will not soon forget.
"Father died in the effort to repair the pattern, and Brand and Deirdre died in Chaos. I can give you details of the battle in detail later, with a sand table. Suffice to say we were victorious and we attended father's funeral and returned to Amber, with Random as King.
"I returned to Avalon, Corwin to Paris, and Random chose to create Xanadu. The others went where they would."
"Thank you. I still wonder why Granddad didn't call me back to the fight along with everyone else. Did he mention his reasons to you?"
Benedict shakes his head once, a consise negation. "He did not. I did not presume to know, but thought it possible that he either put you or left you in a safe place, possibly as a reserve measure. Martin was in Amber and he was Father's most active agent in his last few years."
Having conducted the prescribed interview with his venerable forebear with far more composure than he expected (on both sides of the conversation) Fletcher decides that now is an excellent time to declare victory, offer his customary salute, and quit the field. This has, however, gone far too well. Fletcher's nature compels him to add a final comment as he ducks out the door. "By the way, I met Lilly. So no worries about awkwardness there. I gave her some advice about how to deal with Chantico's tricks." With a nod, he is gone from the door, and though Benedict is quick enough to catch up with him, there would be little point.
Last modified: 11 May 2010