After a couple of weeks at sea, the fleet led by the Vale of Garnath sights land, which Martin and Folly quickly confirm is the cliff-and-waterfall of Xanadu. The ship is able to anchor in the harbor, but despite the beautiful castle built into the cliff, the city and the harbor proper are still under construction. It will take several days for all of the people to debark with their goods. Ships in the harbor bear the Unicorn Rampant of Amber, the red Unicorn Rampant of Xanadu, and flags from half a dozen other shadows that Raven doesn't recognize.
The city is built in the hills along the bottom of the cliffs and around the natural harbor. Most of the structures are new, and rudimentary compared to the Amber of Raven's memory. But while the city Raven left was crumbling, this Xanadu is bustling with life. She can see it even from the ships.
Her mother is anxious to get into town and build a new place to ply her trade. Martin and Folly are anxious to get to the castle and check in with the King. Raven can speak to the Harbormaster, and when that's done, she may want to report in to the Navy, such as it is. Prince Gerard, Martin tells her, is in residence, although he's not much connected with Naval affairs these days.
Bearing in mind the orders before she left Amber and her discussion with Martin - Raven's order of importance is:
- Send somebody she trusts to keep an eye on Mom so she knows where the woman has gotten off to (for later discussions)
- Harbormaster, for paperwork and to relay the Admiral's instructions that she's supposed to speak with the King
- Checking in with the Navy
- Courtesy call on Gerard, to at least let him know of the Vale's return, because it seems polite
Raven has made her way up to the Palace of Xanadu. Tucked into the shadow of the cliff, its pink tinged turrets look like some elaborate frosted cake - quite a bit less formal than Amber's castle. She approaches the front gate and is met by a page who takes her request to speak with Admiral Gerard and leaves her standing in the main entry - a large domed atrium containing several tall palms, a large fountain with leaping water spouts, and a couple of benches around the edges of the room.
As Raven is cooling her heels examining the odd carvings on a pillar that seem to depict monkeys throwing...something, a tall woman dressed in an unfashionably warm, long red jacket trimmed with white fur comes striding out of a side corridor, brushes past Raven, and then stops suddenly. She spins on a heel, her long red braid swinging around in an arc. "Cousin?" she asks with a quizzical tilt of her head.
Raven turns to regard the woman with a frankly confused expression. She seems to be a man in the garb of a captain of Amber's Navy, although most of her clothing is well-worn, with dark hair pulled back into a very brief, low tail. "Beg pardon, miss?" she says, politely.
The woman moves back towards Raven, walking slightly around to the side and breathes deeply. She gives a curt nod and states, "Cousin." Then she smiles and offers a hand in greeting. "I am Brita, Your Kin. Most Likely Cousin as we do seem to be the Most Populated generation." The woman's green eyes sparkle a little. "I am Princess Fiona's Daughter."
The captain is clearly utterly baffled by this - perhaps especially by the being smelled part. To her credit, though, she is willing to shake hands. "Raven, milady," she says. "Captain of the ship the Vale of Garnath. Er... Begging your pardon, but - what are you on about? So far as I know, I ain't got any cousins, and I don't know how you decided that I did...?"
"Captain," Brita gives a little bow, "You may call me Brita or Ranger Brita, if you Prefer. Your Blood is Of the Line of Amber," Brita avers. "My Shadow Asgard Lineage Gives me that Knowledge. Why are you Waiting Here?" she indicates the atrium around them.
This doesn't answer the question to Raven's satisfaction - how does sniffing someone tell anyone anything but when they last bothered to clean up and with what? - but she isn't sure that asking again is going to get her an answer that makes any more sense. Which probably means that this is a Royal thing or this woman's a mage too or something of the sort. As for this Royal blood thing, well. It seems as likely as anything else on the lengthy list of possibilities she's compiled over the years - which is to say, it could be, but without sensible proof, she's not convinced. And not about to run around claiming it, either, not after that conversation with the Prince. Unless being sniffed counts as sensible proof, which it doesn't in her book but she supposes may in other people's. In which case, or rather, in either case, the conversation she needs to have with her mother about the boy is going to be real interesting.
"I was told to report to the King when I arrived, ma'am," she answers after a moment of what was clearly thought. "And I was going to speak with Prince Gerard while I'm here, seeing as how we were part of his fleet before we got lost."
Brita nods and states, "I can Take You to Either Uncle. Who would you Prefer to Meet First?" as she turns to flag down a page to determine the whereabouts of both King and Prince.
Raven shakes her head quickly. "I already asked someone to speak with Prince Gerard, ma'am. And seeing as how I wasn't too far behind the Prince and Lady Folly, even with the stops I had to make, I don't see how the King would be free yet. It ain't a hardship to wait a few."
"But they have Left You Here," Brita notes with a disparaging glance around at the lack of proper seating and food. "I can Take you Straight to Prince Gerard. It is No Trouble." Brita notes such to the Page for him to alert his Associate when he returns. She then turns and heads off in the direction of Prince Gerard, expecting Captain Raven to follow.
Well, all right...
Raven mentally throws up her hands and follows in Brita's wake, bemused. It's not really worth trying to argue about it. This particular Royal seems nice enough, if cryptic, so she's not inclined to argue about principles... but she really is starting to wonder about these people.
The pages tell Brita that Gerard is in his quarters. Normally Raven wouldn't have access to the family area of the castle, but with Brita's say-so, Raven will be passed by the guards that separate the public and private areas of the castle.
Gerard has a handsome suite in one of the corners of the castle, with windows that open out onto a spectacular view of the bay and the nearby waterfall. When Raven and Brita are admitted to the Prince's presence, he is in his wheelchair by the window. Raven can see when she comes in that Gerard's legs are badly shattered and misshapen, and he seems shrunken compared to the man in her memories.
"Brita," Gerard says when the page announces her and a guest, "they said you were coming. Who hae you brought with you?"
"Unlce," Brita smiles widely. "This is Captain Raven, Part of Your Lost Fleet during the Sundering. He is Kin."
Raven salutes Gerard sharply and says, "Sir." She restrains herself to just that, although there might have been a brief, bemused glance askance at Brita before she schools her expression back into straightness.
And she most definitely does not stare at Gerard's legs beyond the first look, because the man deserves the dignity of not being stared at like a freak - but this isn't entirely what she was expecting. It's something of a shock.
Gerard's expression brightens at the sight of Raven. "Captain! It's good that you've found yer way to Xanadu." He wheels over to offer her a friendly clasp, of the sort he might give any of his men. He clearly knows what he's doing with the chair, and has no trouble maneuvering it over the floor. "We lost so many ships when the storm hit, but they're starting to find their way home now."
He turns to Brita. "And what's this about him being a kinsman?"
"He is Blood of Amber," Brita notes with a shrug. "I Suppose we are Cousins, given his Age."
Raven cracks a smile and willingly returns the friendly clasp. "Aye, sir, it's good to be back in civilized ports. As for the other." She shrugs and tries not to sound as skeptical as she feels. "So Ranger Brita tells me."
Gerard's legs may have been smashed to flinders, but his arm is still that of the strongest man in--well, Raven imagines that must be Xanadu now.
"Aye, well, she's picked 'em out before." Gerard gives Brita an indulgently paternal smile before he turns his attention back to Raven. "The King will want to see you, sooner rather than later, to speak of this. I reckon ye've reported in at the harbor. Who brought yer ship in? And where ha ye been?" He gestures to both Raven and Brita to sit down.
"Aye, sir," Raven answers as she sits. "We been lost, that's the long and short of it. We got lucky and found Gateway, though it ain't as friendly as it once was, and found Sir Marius there." She tries not to let on that she's still irritated with him; it's not wholly successful. "He took us on to Amber, sir, and from there the Prince and Lady Folly brought us on to here."
Gerard nods, brightening as he hears about the Prince and Folly. "The detailed version of how you met Marius is one you'll be telling the King, so I'll spare you repeating it again. I'd ask what you mean to do next, whether you'll stay in the Navy or no, but those decisions are best put off until after you've spoken to Random.
"If it's not too touchy of a subject, lad, do you know who your father was?" Gerard watches carefully to be sure he's not treading on turf Raven doesn't want to answer about, in general, or in front of Brita. He's also checking to see that Brita's not embarrassed, although he seems to think that's less likely than Raven being embarrassed on her own or before Brita.
Raven is not at all embarrassed; she's actually quite matter-of-fact about the whole thing. "My mother and I, we don't exactly get along," that's clearly an understatement, "and we ain't ever managed a civil conversation about it. Whoever it is, he ain't the same as the father of the little brother I just found out I've got, but beyond that?" She shrugs. "I got a colorful list, but it's as useful as barnacles on a cat."
"Your List can Now be Culled to Only those Of Amber Blood," Brita notes as she turns from the window she had wandered to during the discussion. "Not Knowing is not Uncommon in Our Generation and Knowing can provide both Advantages and Disadvantages. Which Would you Prefer, Captain Raven?" she asks, cocking her head to one side in query.
"After all these years and all those discussions?" Raven answers drily. "It's sort of a matter of principle to try and find out, ma'am."
"Maybe you can Use the Knowledge that he is One of Royal Blood to prompt your Mother into Revelations," Brita notes.
"We could bring yer ma up to the castle and ask, but not," Gerard hastens to add, "if you don't want to. Speaking freely, king's younger boy's ma had quite a mouth on her, and I think the King and Queen have no mind for more of the same.
"Once you're settled, if you like, you can find a berth for your brother. I'm sure Caine would be pleased to bring him on as page, with an eye to a Naval berth when he's old enough, if he'd suit."
Brita can sense Gerard is curious about the boy with a different father, and Raven's mother, but is trying not to press too hard.
Raven snorts and shakes her head. "If their Majesties are looking to avoid women with mouths on them, it'd be best to keep her far away. I damn near had to sit on her to keep her out of trouble on the way here as it is - and I can't imagine this'll be a peaceful conversation." She smiles slightly and nods in Brita's direction. "Especially not with something in particular to be asking about.
"As for the boy, sir, I'd like a chance to get to know him first before I go finding a job for him. I mean, he was born while we was lost, and I ain't had more than a few minutes here and there to talk with him, what with everything going on and all."
Brita finds a chair and sits down in it. She has nothing to add to the conversation at the moment.
"If ye mean to get to know the lad, I reckon that will mean dealing with yer ma as well. Although once your blood is proven--" and here, Gerard looks at Brita for a moment, "--that may not be so much of an issue." Dismissing that topic, Gerard changes directions. "What question do ye have for me before Brita takes ye to the king? We can talk more later; I'm not going anywhere until my doctor gets back."
"I didn't have a question, exactly, sir," Raven answers, with a shrug. "It just seemed right and proper to let you know we'd made it back."
"I'm glad ye did," Gerard says, with a smile that makes him look more like the man Raven remembers than he has so far in their conversation. "If ye have need of someone to talk to after you're done with the king, ask a page to bring you back here. I reckon you'll be wanting a dram or two."
He offers Raven a farewell clasp.
Brita rises and offers a smile and hug to Gerard in parting. She turns to Raven with "Let Us go Find the King." and then moves out to summon a page to ascertain where the King is at the moment - although she's fairly certain it will be someplace with a spectacular view of the falls...
Raven returns the handclasp with a quick bob of her head and a, "Thank you, sir." Then she follows Brita.
As Raven leaves Gerard's room, Brita is just finishing up consulting with a page. She turns and smiles at Raven and says, "The King will be on the Main Balcony." We can Go to Meet Him There." She proceeds to lead the way, moving quickly through the maze of the palace and coming to a large open room. The sound of the waterfall comes loud from the wide open balcony through an archway near the end of the room.
Raven nods and says simply, "Aye, ma'am." She trails along behind Brita the whole way, looking around and considering whether there's any way to have the conversation she needs to have with her mother without it turning into an all-out row. She figures the answer is no, and furthermore that she isn't sure she'll get anywhere, long before they reach their destination.
The balcony is wide, and Brita and Raven pass a man leaving the King's presence. He is richly dressed and has a pinched look to his face. He doesn't seem to be a happy man.
The King is on the far end of the balcony, lying on the railing. One arm trails over the side and dangles many hundreds of feet above the lagoon below.
Random neither stands nor looks up. "Hello, Brita, what's up?"
Brita bows formally, but her words are less so. "Uncle-Liege, I bring Cousin-Captain Raven to Meet You. He has been Lost Asea." She turns and waves Raven forward.
Raven salutes sharply and says, "Your Majesty."
And if she's mentally thrown up her hands, seeing as how it's difficult to argue with people you're not supposed to argue with over something you don't actually know the truth of one way or another, and is just kind of going along with it at this point for lack of anything else sensible to do - well, it at least doesn't show in her expression.
Random props himself up, half-sitting. He looks at Raven. "Lost a sea? How do you lose a sea? They're big, and they just slosh back and forth in one place. Usually."
Brita, all seriousness, nods but notes, "Yes, Usually, Until the Sea is Separated from Reality by the Sundering."
"I did manage not to lose my ship, Your Majesty," Raven offers. "And most of the crew. Admiral Caine said I should report to you when we got here."
Random rolls over on the ledge, propping himself up on his elbow.
"Excellent on not losing those, Captain-Nephew! I think I'll call you Raven, Captain-Nephew is so formal. Anyway, excellent work, Raven. It almost makes up for losing a sea. Not nearly as interesting as the question I suppose I always dread asking the most. So, which of my brothers or sisters is your parent?"
Raven shrugs. "I don't rightly know, Your Majesty. If it's any of them, I'd expect it's one of your brothers, seeing as how I got a mother and I ain't inclined to think she'd have raised me if I weren't hers."
"Right, my sisters are much less likely to have children they didn't know about. I'll have to ask who was hitting the taverns at the time. What year were you were you born in?"
[OOC: This would be a place you could say "Raven tells the King", since it's a detail we don't have at the top of our fingertips. Or you could say "Blahty-blah years ago". I'm easy.]
[OOC: Hmm. I don't see it in my stuff either. I may or may not have actually specified a number...]
Raven answers the King promptly.
"Well, we'll have to look into that. Anyway," says Random, "I can tell she's right, with my Amazing Kingly Ju-Ju. The question that comes up, is what do you want to do about it?"
"I want to find out who it was, Your Majesty. Beyond that..." Raven shrugs. "Don't know as how I know what there is to be done about it, sir."
Random looks over at Brita. "Brita, you don't have to hang around, I'll make sure she finds her way back safely."
"If it is Acceptable with You, Your Highness, I can Stay and Begin Sketches of my Newest Cousin." Brita pulls a small pad and pencils out of one of the many pockets on her long red jacket. Barring any objection, she will find a quiet corner of the throne room and begin to sketch as well as fill the role of 'fly on the wall'.
"Now, there are are few things that can be done about it, and a few things that have to be done about it. First of all, you're at risk, just by the nature of who you are. Many people will want to use you, and some may even dare to impress upon your credulous simplicity.
"Second of all, the good news is you're a damn sight tougher than everyone you know, mostly, even if you haven't realized it. I am not the asthmatic teenaged punk I appear to be, not by far. Neither is Brita, Gerard, or Corwin. You're faster, stronger, and better looking than anyone you're not related to. You've got more vigor, vim, vitality, and punch. You can learn things fast and you are capable of acts no one else you know can do. Would-be Merchant Princes of Xanadu will fawn over your favor, since you can make them rich.
"There is a qualitative difference between you and all but a double-dozen people you're related to. You won't die of old age, and if you lose a finger, for instance, it will grow back. Oh, and your most remote ancestor created the universe, and will tell you about it in excruciatingly boring detail if you buy him a drink."
Brita actually snorts at this comment.
"Now, the downside is our family doesn't have the good sense the Unicorn granted to your average alpaca." The King shrugs, and sways a bit on the low railing he's lying athwart. "We make due without it."
He swings himself up to a sitting position, his feet swinging between the posts of the railing. "So, ideally, we'd get you trained up in the ways of being Lord Raven instead of Captain Raven and we'd send you off doing what Royals do, which is troubleshooting for me. You'd be green at it for a while, but given who you are, you'll muddle through that just fine.
"Now that you know more, what do you want to do about it?"
"Begging Your Majesty's pardon, but..." Raven frowns. "What happens to my ship and crew? I mean, it seems a shitty thing to do, bringing them through all that and finally home and all, and then disappearing just because I finally found out who my mother f-" She breaks off, clears her throat, and revises, "Who my father is, sir."
Brita pipes up, "Why couldn't he Mentor Under Uncle Gerard and Uncle Caine and Continue Captaining his Ship in order to Connect Reality Xanadu with More Shadows?"
Random nods. "Sure, but it might be a long time before he can make shadowpaths. It'd be a while before it's a good idea to send him out alone, too. There's a bit to know before it's a good idea to turn him loose in shadow."
The king turns to Raven. "If we find out your mother didn't eff anyone, that's a bigger deal than if she did. I feel your pain about your crew, but there's a lot of things you have to know before you go off exploring the shadows and exercising your newfound birthright, so is it shittier to ground them waiting on you or to let 'em sign on with a new captain for a trip or two? Any you want to keep with you, we can certainly afford as hangers on or give jobs at the shipyard or docks, but sailors like to sail, I find."
Raven considers this. "I ain't sure I know what the right thing is for this, Your Majesty," she says at last, carefully. "I know there's some that already want leave to go find their kin. And I ain't sure how the rest would take to a new captain so soon after being off the charts." She shrugs a little, clearly not thrilled with this turn in the conversation. "I don't know. I'll do as ordered, sir."
"Hmm. Well if you weren't you, you might find your ship was requisitioned by some Captain who had seniority and pull with the Admiralty, which you don't, or don't unless you're you, in which case you are Lord Raven and can keep your ship except you need to get on with being Lord Raven and your crew will probably not really know what to do with you being a Lord and suddenly my kinsman.
"So, no good answers there. Or I could send you on a mission somewhere. Probably need to make you Lord Admiral Raven of Quoth of something to do that one. You'd have a Captain to boss around, and a cousin or two to teach you crap.
"We can always delay things for a bit by having your ship refitted. Never met a ship that didn't want refitting." The King gets down off of the wall and starts to walk back to the castle, gesturing for the cousins to come with him.
"How likely do you think your ma is to tell us who your father is? What's her name? I wonder if I know her." Random grins wolfishly.
"The Vale could use a good refitting," Raven agrees as she trails after him. "We had to be creative how we fixed things, Your Majesty. All that needs to be done proper. As for my mother." She shrugs. "I expect a fight to get anything, like always, if I'm the one doing the asking. And I ain't sure she'd tell anyone else the truth, sir, not if she thinks there might be something in it for her if she says what she thinks they're after. Her name's Scarlett."
Random shakes his head. "I've known some scarlet women, but none who called themselves that. And of course there's no way I'd've forgotten or she that might have used a different name. We'll have to keep looking."
Brita follows and notes, "We could Always Ask the Likely Candidates based on your Age, But, In This Family, We'd Likely get the Same Result as Asking Your Mother."
Random looks at Brita. "You think my brothers will say 'get stuffed', too? We may have to be clever about it. Let's start with you asking your Mother. You can tell her whatever you need to about this, but we've narrowed it down to a reasonably small set of mostly living candidates.
"So, it matters and it doesn't. Until we figure it out, you're my feudal vassal, afterwards, you're your father's. Sometime later, when we officially recognize you and all, we'll have to have an at-least-somewhat-public ceremony where you take the oath of allegiance to me. That's another thing that matters and it doesn't. You'll need to take it, but it's binding on both of us even if you don't, because everyone thinks it is. Dad was a genius that way..." Random shakes his head.
"Do you have any questions? Brita, what haven't I told him?"
"Trumps," Brita notes. "That would be a Quick Demonstration." She turns to Raven, "I have Taken a Few Sketches in Order to make a Trump - a Means of Contacting Family - of You. It will Reside in the King's Trump Booth."
"I'm sure I ought to have plenty of questions," Raven observes. "If it's all the same to Your Majesty, I'd rather save them for later, after I've got a chance to think about it and all. And I'm sorry, ma'am, but I ain't got the first clue what a 'King's Trump Booth' is."
"It's a shadow innovation which we rashly imported to Xanadu," says Random, grinning. "It's like this. One of the ways you're stronger than most people is that you are strong enough to be the subject of a special magic called a 'Trump'. This is one of the family secrets, by the way, but it's not a big secret."
Random opens the door, or tries to. Some unseen servant pulls it inwards. Random nods at the glass. "It used to be, back in the good old days before everyone and his dog started having children, that we all had a deck of these trumps and could use them to cause mischief and annoy the snot out of each other. They look like playing cards, but they're really more than that. Anyway, two things happened since you kids started popping up like whiskey dents on an A&R man's caddy.
"First, it turns out that Trumps can be drawn by someone other than Dad's former mad old court wizard, who is also my grandfather. They can be made by a number of family members, including Brita here." Random nods to Brita. "Second, it turns out we need a lot more of them then we've got.
"So, I asked everyone to make at least one trump of each person and give it into my care. It's a resource I let everyone use, because we don't have enough painters of trumps.
"Which is a long way of saying, 'be patient, and don't be surprised when you hear someone talking in your head. That will be Brita.'"
Random turned to Brita. "At your convenience, Lady Brita." The king bows, from the neck.
Brita bows formally back, "The Trump Sketch of the Captain will be Formally Ready in a Watch; although I Can Attempt it Now."
She turns to Raven, "Captain, the Contact will Feel Like a Mental Tingling, at first. Just be Open to It. I will Move Away so it is More Obvious what Happens." She starts to move away but stops and turns back, "There is a Risk, in Opening Contact to Another. The Person could Attack - it has Been Done," she glances at the King. "You will Need to learn to Open, but Stay Ready just In Case." She then bows to the King again, and steps away, moving around one of columns before she begins to concentrate on the sketch.
Raven listens to all of this with a sort of polite skepticism - she recalls a few things she's heard that make it seem that this isn't wholly outlandish, but playing cards? - and waits.
Brita is out of sight and Raven suddenly feels a pressure as if her ears are full of water.
Raven shakes her head slightly at the sensation, as though trying to dislodge something. And then she makes a guess that this is the thing she's supposed to be waiting for and attempts to open to it - not that she's entirely sure she understands what that means...
As Raven focuses on the sensation, she blinks and Brita seems to hover before her - a portion of a pillar visible at her back that is clearly not in front of Raven. The image of Brita says, "So, the Trump is a Means of Communication and More. If you would Hold Out your Hand," and Brita offers her own hand to the Captain expectantly.
Assuming Raven extends a hand, Brita grasps it firmly and is suddenly standing there with Raven and the King. She turns the paper in her free hand and Raven sees a sketch of herself. The detail is striking for such a brief contact, down to the skeptical look that Raven was surely wearing several times in the course of her contact with Brita.
Releasing Raven's hand, she pockets the sketch and then reaches into an inner pocket and draws forth a small leather wrapped package. She opens it and draws forth a card. She offers it to Raven face up - it is an image of small wooden building surrounded by towering reed like plants. The red roof of the building has ornate carvings under the eaves and slopes down into graceful upward curves at the corners. Blue tinged, flat stones make a path through the grass leading to wide shallow steps up to the porch. The entrance appears to be a black framed paper screen.
"Huh," Raven says, by way of an opinion about all of this. She takes the card, glancing at it briefly. "So is this something that only you lot can do, ma'am?"
Brita cocks her head to the side at the odd cant. "It is Something Us Lot can do," she notes. As Raven holds the card, she realizes that it is cold to the touch. Brita reaches out and places a hand on Raven's sleeve, "Concentrate on the Image, but Do Not Fall In."
Random speaks up. "She means that. And while anyone can do Brita's part, the receiving end only works if you're one of us lot. Since your head didn't explode, you're proven."
Raven nods slowly. This, it seems, makes sense to her - or at least doesn't make her look at them both like she's not sure what they're trying to pull. She looks at the card again and attempts to concentrate on it.
As Raven stares at the card, a few of the tall reed-like trees come into better focus. The image of the building changes - it seems to draw forward and shrink down slightly. The red carved roof is replaced by a simple thatched roof. A few of the reed trees disappear and the image takes on a stark reality. Raven sees the leaves swaying slightly and hears the gentle music of the colorful wind chime still hanging from the eaves. Just as she begins to feel like she can begin to see the forest in her peripheral vision, she hears Brita make a small exclamation of surprise and sees Brita's hand over the card as she is jerked rudely back into the palace of Xanadu.
Brita seems a little dazed as she gazes at the King. "I Suppose I should have Expected This. Master Nguyen had to Survive the Blackness without Us. I Do Not Know how It Manifested in the Bamboo Forest Shadow, but the Blackness Obviously Wrought Changes."
She takes the card gently from Raven and tucks it almost reverently back into her small collection, her hand resting on the leather wrapping for a moment before she shakes herself out of her reverie. She looks back at Raven and gives a half smile. "If You had Wished, you could have Been There and No Longer Here. To get Back, you would Need a Trump of Reality Xanadu. I will Make you One. Perhaps of the Bay or wharfs," she trails off.
"Ah. So..." Raven asks carefully, "it ain't supposed to be different than what's on the card, ma'am?"
"Nope!", interjects Random, with a grin on his face. "It's usually different. I shave, I don't shave, I'm starkers, I'm not. It resolves to what is, instead of what was, either in reality or aspirationally. Same for places. It's not like we're encased in amber."
Raven snorts in amusement. "Aye, Your Majesty, I should hope not. I was only asking on account of Ranger Brita seeming surprised by it, sir. I ain't got a clue."
Brita nods, "Surprised, although I Should Not have been. His Majesty is Correct. All things Change. I just Hoped." She shrugs. "Anyways, You have now Seen how Trumps Function. Again, I will Make you a Trump of Reality Xanadu." She turns back to the King, "And I will Finish the Trump of Captain Raven for the Trump Booth. If you have No Further Need of me, I will Leave you."
Random nods. "Nope, I thank you for your help."
"Good-bye, Ranger Brita," Raven says, with a smile.
Random watches Brita leave, staring at the door she left by for some time. "So, Captain-Lord Raven, what do you make of all that?"
"Begging Your Majesty's pardon, but I'm still working on that, sir." Raven shrugs slightly. "You both gave me more than enough proof that I ain't exactly got any reason to argue, not that I had much to begin with. And I suppose I'll get used to the card-and-drawings bit, if that comes with all the rest." She seems resigned to that.
"It does. With the good and the bad. We shouldn't announce anything until we've had a talk with your mother." Random seems as far from enthused as he could be. "I hope you can resolve that one." He smiles, and he probably means it. That would be easier, for him.
"The cards are the least of our powers, which will someday be your powers. You've sworn an oath to me as King when you were made a Captain, but there will be another one when you're acknowledged as my nephew. You need to pay attention to it, because you'll be bound by it." He pauses, with a grin on his face. "In reality, you're bound by it before you take it, but it gives me a legal justification to protect you if one of our crazier enemies decides to do something to you because of who you are.
"I mentioned the bad? That's it. You've got enemies now, by virtue of being one of us. Huon, Dara, Every Moonrider ever, the Lords, Ladies, and Otherbeings of the Court of Chaos, jointly and individually. Folks like that. It's personal and it's not. It's about the affront our grandfather made to their universe by making the one we live it. They'll do you in because of who you are, not anything you've done. And they're the straightforward ones.
"It's the main reason we try to sniff out new relatives. You're not safe on your own."
"And probably Gateway," Raven appends. "I ain't so sure they'll be wanting to see me again, Your Majesty, seeing as how I left with two more than I started with. But, ah..." She clears her throat. "Was there supposed to be some sort of oath when I was made Captain? A proper oath, that is, and not just the surgeon cussing and saying that he guessed I was in charge because all the officers was dead? I was the bosun before we got lost."
"Oh-ho!," says Random, his eyes sparkling. "Yep, you can't be a Captain without promising to support the realm, which is to say me. You willing to do that? It's effectively the oath I've been talking about."
"Aye, Your Majesty." Raven's answer is prompt and crisp; no hesitation there.
"Crap, now I've got to remember the words. I'm the drummer, damnit! It goes 'dih dibbity dibbity bibbity chhh...', no wait. I remember... " He squares his shoulders. "Repeat after me:
"I, Raven ap Scarlett, do swear that I will be faithful to you and bear you true allegiance, obeying your commands from this hour forward until my death or until the world ends."
Random stops. "Got it? It's your turn. We'll do this in front of witnesses later, at your debutante ball, but we've not had much luck with balls lately. They all turn blue."
Raven snorts in amusement at the play on words. She hasn't the first idea exactly what he's referring to, of course, but the joke, she gets. And then she quickly straightens up into a properly attentive pose and repeats the words back to him, taking care to repeat it properly.
"I, Raven ap Scarlett, do swear that I will be faithful to you and bear you true allegiance, obeying your commands from this hour forward until my death or until the world ends."
She waits expectantly afterwards, not sure if that's it or if there's something more.
Random replies, not having to think or pause at all.
"I, Random the King, hear your oath, and shall remember. And I do swear that I will defend you and yours from every creature, with all my power, until your death or the world ends. "
He nods. "That does it. Once we find your Da, we can clean it up and do it in public, but you're now officially privately bound. So am I, and I have casus belli should our enemies, or our friends who should be our enemies, or frenemies, or anyone really messes with you. Not," he adds, "that the King of Amber and Xanadu needs more reason than 'I don't like the way yer eyeing my sister,' to plunge dozens of shadows into apocalyptic war."
He shrugs. "Good think I am such an enlightened and forward thinking monarch." He belches.
Raven settles on, "Aye, Your Majesty," as a reasonable response to this, and drops the properly attentive pose. "Before all this came up, sir, Admiral Caine said I was to report to you about our stop in Gateway."
Random looks over at her. "Yeah, Caine gets pretty exercised about the whole reporting thing. Guess that goes with being an Admiral. OK, tell me about your stop in Gateway."
Whereas the King isn't nearly so excited by reporting - Raven can read between those lines. So. Short and sweet. "There was a tsunami, sir, and we was following the dead bodies that looked like they came from it, since it looked like some of them was from Rebma. That's how we found Gateway - chasing down the dead. Our arrival seemed pretty normal, for those parts, at least until the Harbormaster took it on himself to arrest me and my men." She shrugs slightly. "We took exception, and they took exception back. He said there was questions for folks out of Amber, and I can't say as how I was looking forward to finding out what those were and what they was meaning to do when I couldn't answer. But I got locked in with Sir Marius, who - begging your Majesty's pardon - looked like the walking dead, and we got out from there. The Lady Thalia joined us after that, sir, and helped us get out of town. And then Sir Marius got us the rest of the way to Amber."
Random nods. "A trail of dead bodies? That's a promisingly gothic tale. While it's probably Huon's little war, it may be something else. Gateway is a ways from Rebma, even if it's on the path. I'll have to have someone look into that.
"What did you think of Thalia?"
"She seemed nice enough, sir, and honest enough," Raven answers. "Genuine. Seemed to me like she wanted the trade of help for getting out of there." She shrugs slightly. "And that in the face of Sir Marius seeming to not want anything but to jump her and make a prisoner of her. She weren't the most forthcoming on what trading for her help getting away actually meant, but I can't say as how that really surprised me. Seems to me that's a thing with mages."
Random nods, paying close attention. "Yeah, if I don't ever have to deal with another one, it'll be too soon, says the Witch-King of Xanadu. Did Sir Marius give any reason why he wanted to punch Sir Conner's girlfriend in the snoot, or was it merely that she was the closest and he was in a snoot-punching mood?"
"Er..." Raven clears her throat. "I can't say as how he was for punching people in the snoot, sir, not specifically. More... arresting with force. With prejudice, you might say. We was trying to just get out of there when we spotted her," and there's a certain exasperation in her voice. "He knew who she was, and she was the only mage we saw, and he seemed to hold her to blame, sir, but I don't know as how I caught exactly why, not with them arguing about it when we were better served by moving on."
Random nods sympathetically. "So, yeah. Get used to that. When you start to think you're immortal, one of the easiest mistakes is to think that insults are more of a problem than actual danger. Best way to get a reputation in this family. Either way, actually."
He pauses. "Se, we've covered the highlights; trumps, villains, cousins, uncles, pattern, moonriders, captaining, and Gateway. All in all, I think you'll rather enjoy being one of us. Tell Gilt you need rooms, and he'll make it happen."
"Aye, Your Majesty, I think that about covers it for my part," Raven agrees. Considering where her mental tally of Royals currently stands, she refrains from comment on whether she'll enjoy this or not. "When should I expect to know what's happening with the Vale, sir?"
Random shrugs. "I thought we were going to leave the question while they refitted her. Any rush?" He grins. "Got somewhere to go?"
Raven quickly shakes her head. "No, sir, just didn't follow the conversation like I thought I had, I guess. Wanted to make sure I knew what I was telling them."
"Tell 'em whatever you'd like. Tell'em the King's wicked vizier, Gilt Winter, acquired 'em all as slaves when the Captain committed the crime of eating dates out of a leather bag and thus forfeited them all, but was able to win them all back by making the King's pet llama laugh and cry in the space of a minute."
He smiles, enjoying his own joke. "Or tell them the truth, or nothing. Up to you."
"They'll be needing to know where they're headed next." Raven shrugs. "The rest of this, I ain't planning to talk about with them yet."
The King looks back at [Raven]. "They'll know soon enough. And while it's only been known for about an hour, Castles are like ships. In two ways. Neither is like a hedgehog and also people live very closely in them. Which means that castles and ships are not great places to talk about secrets, unlike inside a hedgehog, which would be massively better for keeping secrets, but sorta messy.
"Make sure you're on top of things, Captain."
Raven makes a face, and then sighs. "Aye, Your Majesty. I ain't used to being the center of gossip, but I'll do my best. I just want to get to the bottom of this, at least when it comes to my family, first, is all. Or at least try."
Random nods. "Trying is good. People in our family succeed at what they try. Usually. Which reminds me. I haven't mentioned rule #12. Don't have any kids without talking to me. If you do have any you don't know about, you should get to knowing about them, then rule #12 applies." He smiles. "Because otherwise I'll be having the same conversation in twenty years with Captain Gherkin, or whatever he gets named, and I'd rather it was your turn..."
"I ain't got any kids, Your Majesty," Raven says quickly, and she sounds very sure of herself. "I'm on good terms with my girls; they'd've told me. And I'm careful, besides. I've had my fill of being the unwanted bastard brat; I ain't of a mind to be creating any of my own."
Random smiles. "Yeah, when I was your age, I thought it was all about my choices, too. Right, then. You may go, Captain. It makes me feel old to say 'when I was you age', and I've got to go undisillusion myself."
"Aye, Your Majesty," Raven answers, with a smart salute. Dismissals, she can deal with. Comments about the King's age - well, not so much. Best to ignore those and stick with leaving... which she will if there's nothing else.
A day or so after the Vale of Garnath arrives in Xanadu, a page finds Garrett wherever he is in the palace. He has a note, sealed with Martin's seal. It says:
Garrett,There are a couple of things we need to talk about. I'm in the studio this afternoon. Come down if you have time. If not, we'll catch up over dinner sometime in the next few days.
Let me know,
M
The signature letter is big and loopy, like it's a formal state signature of some sort.
The page finds Garrett on his way to the kitchens. He tells the page to send word back to Martin that he will meet him in the studio after lunch.
At the alloted time, Garrett arrives, carrying a plate of cold carved turkey, some crusty bread and a branch of red grapes, which he offers to Martin. "In case you didn't eat yet," he says, setting the plate down on a nearby amp.
"I'm always hungry for more. Thanks." Martin is seated in the open part of the studio, tuning his collection of stringed instruments. His guitars and his stand-up bass seem to have suffered from the transit at sea. "How's it going? The place doesn't seem to have burned down while Dad left it in Soren's keeping."
"No, looks like Soren kept Ash on a tight lead," Garrett agrees with a smirk. "I haven't been back all that long myself. People have been drifting in here and there. A few, like you, went by way of Amber. It still stands, I take it?" Garrett asks as he pulls up a stool to sit on.
"Shabbily and precariously, but it was still standing when we went through. Brought back another small fleet with us. May have a line on one of Lucas' kids, but I'll have to check that out with Silken." Martin makes an unpleasant face; clearly that's not a chore he's looking forward to. Then he snags a couple of grapes from the plate and drops them into his mouth, as if that'll cure the sour taste.
"One of..." Garrett stops, looking confused, then frowns as he remembers. "Oh. Yeah. She said all his 'activity' was during the Regency. So... we're looking for bairn under about six years old? And no idea if they're still in Amber or if they've moved on."
Martin shakes his head, once, in the negative. "None certain, now. But if anyone can tell me who they were and where they went, it's Silken. Violet confirmed Silken didn't have one herself, at least. And she can fish out the likely candidates. I would normally have figured Lucas liked them a little more couth, but maybe he wanted a change. Variety is the spice of life." He shrugs phlegmatically.
Then he looks at Garrett with a sort of assessing gaze. "Anybody ever take you to one?"
"Er... me?" Garrett blushes brightly, taken aback by the question. "Uh, nooo. Not really. I mean, some of the hands used to partake of that, but none of 'em was ever ... welcome... at the Red Mill. They tended to frequent spots closer to the docks. And they rarely asked me to go. I reckoned it was 'cause I was the son of the Master. And... I had a girl anyway." He shrugs, realizing he might be revealing more than was technically asked.
Martin is watching him carefully with a very neutral expression. It's not exactly the warm reception Garrett might have hoped for on giving such a confession to his brother, but it's not condemnatory of either Garrett's experience or the lack of it.
"On Lucas though. I do recall something from the Sundering," Garrett goes on. "It was second- or third-hand, but one of the hands said something about some girl wanting a ride back to town. Said she'd been with Lucas when the earthquake hit and couldn't get home. It was odd 'cause Lucas was generally more discreet than to let one walk away and start talking, but it was pretty dire circumstances that night. I reckon the lads remembered 'cause it was a bright spot in a dark day."
"I wish I were surprised. I spent the night of the Sundering at the Prince, but I'd come in on the last Trump before they failed." Martin frowns slightly at the memories. "I'd say 'we'll trace her', but the truth is, we don't even have a name. Without a lot more sorcery and power than I'm willing to spend, or ask to be spent, for no guarantee of a result, we won't get anything there. I think Silken's our best bet."
"And she might know her anyway," Garrett adds in agreement.
[Martin] pauses, considering his words. "You're a Prince now. You can go anywhere you want. Red Mill is Dad's club, and mine. They'd be delighted to have you as a member. Any club you choose to patronize in Xanadu will become more prominent because you grace it with your presence."
Garrett stares at him, unsure whether to feel honored or uncomfortable. The blush that had started to fade slowly rises again. "I suppose," he concedes doubtfully. "I'd never really thought much about it. Is... membership... something that's required of princes, or is it more a... a benefit of the position?"
"That's complicated." Martin shifts in his seat a little, clearly getting comfortable in a 'this is going to be a long discussion' kind of way. "Some of it is the kind of thing that every business or trader dealing with a prince is about. If you buy, or accept as a gift since they may not let you pay, goods or services, whoever you bought them from will use your purchase as an endorsement. Even though only Dad gets to hand out 'by royal appointment' patents, they can always say, 'Prince Martin buys these cigars from me' to customers in the store, and that will--or always did in Amber, anyhow--make people want to buy them, to be like us. You see?"
Martin looks like he's waiting for Garrett's cue to continue.
"I think so," Garrett says, nodding slowly and seriously. This is obviously a concept that he has not considered before and he is paying close attention to what Martin has to say about it.
"So there's a sort of endorsement that goes with any purchase. A membership in a club like that is a long-term investment, so a long-term endorsement, plus it gives the members access to you at times when you're off-duty, as much as we ever are." The skyward roll of Martin's eyes says he doesn't think he ever is. "So in Amber, we were very desirable members, especially during the Regency. And then, on top of that, there's the women."
Martin pauses, scrutinizing Garrett carefully. "I assume from things you've said it's women. But if it's men or boys too, that's OK, and it doesn't change anything. Dad made it clear he expected me to marry and produce heirs, and I'd assume that applies to you too, but he never said anything about side action. And even if your tastes prove a little exotic for Xanadu, there's always Shadow. But for now we're talking about women in Xanadu.
From Garrett's involuntary wince of distaste at the alternate suggestion, Martin can assume he's made the correct choice.
Martin mostly succeeds in suppressing an amused smirk and continues, "Did you know that I had a formally-contracted, exclusive mistress at Red Mill?"
Garrett shakes his head. "No. I mean, I knew you folks went there a lot. I remember sending horses out back during the Regency. But... I didn't know there was anything specially arranged."
"For the first couple of years I just enjoyed her company, but later on I decided it was worth it to buy her contract. It worked out nicely when Dad took the throne." Martin moves to scrub his fingers through his hair, which is really too short to merit the effort. "To be blunt, it meant that nobody was fucking the Heir Presumptive's mistress, which would be a security hole that would make Caine have an entire herd of cows, and he wouldn't be wrong. But also, because of the way Amber is about men and women, that's just--bad."
He pauses there, clearly expecting a bunch of questions from Garrett.
Garrett nods thoughtfully. "I can see how it would be," he says, frowning as he formulates that expected list of questions in his head. "Do they... um, how do I put this? Does someone at the bro... um, club, choose one for you? Or do you have a say? And, um, there's something else."
He grimaces, then asks, "What about Sparrow? She was my girl before I found out. I... I've seen her since and she's not with child or anything but..." Rather than uncomfortable now, Garrett simply looks sad. "What should I do about her?"
Martin had started to answer Garrett's other questions but he pauses there to look at Garrett. "What do you want to do about her?"
Garrett shrugs. "Let her live her life, I reckon. I was the one that wrecked things, after all. But if her being out there is gonna cause problems..." Garrett trails off and shrugs again half-heartedly, "I guess I don't know what to do about that. How does one handle past entanglements when one becomes a Prince?"
"That's something I don't know much about. I've always been a prince," Martin admits. "Look at it this way; you can't handle it much worse than I handled Paige." He shakes his head.
"I'd say leave her be, since you don't think you left her with a child. You're a prince. You make the decisions, for good or ill."
Garrett nods silently. This is the advice he was hoping for.
Martin pops another grape into his mouth. "Same goes for picking a mistress. I picked Violet because I liked her and she cared about my music. It'll be different for you, of course, but don't take the first girl they throw at you. Even if she's your first."
"First girl they throw at you? That sounds rather... aggressive," Garrett comments dubiously. "Do they give you much time to get to know the girl before you have to choose? And... do you have to stay on the premises?" He grins, realizing that last question might sound odd, and clarifies, "I like being outdoors."
Martin smirks. "You're a prince of Amber and Xanadu. If you want to f**k your woman in the fountain in the middle of town, it's not like anyone will complain about it. They might think less of you, but they might just admire your cojones."
Garrett blushes an even brighter shade of red and picks at the pile of grapes as Martin continues.
"As for the girls, you're buying an evening's company and some sex, at least initially. I wouldn't try to take a girl from a club or a house--a whorehouse, however gussied up it might be--out into the country, or out into shadow, without arrangements in advance. It's not like they won't go, since you're the prince, but that might scare the girl, and who wants that?" Martin shrugs; clearly he can't imagine liking it.
"That's not what I meant exactly," Garrett says, popping a grape into his mouth while he regains his emotional footing. "I wouldn't take anyone into Shadow until I knew what I was doing myself. I just meant that, well, you like music. I like horses. Any girl that would strike me fancy would have to enjoy riding and being out of doors. Though I suppose if it's just... well, whatever. It's not as if you're going to marry the girl, right?" he shrugs.
"But what about the one you are going to marry?" Garrett ponders, settling himself more comfortably on the stool. "For example, how does Folly feel about it?" The question appears to be more about general attitudes of girlfriends than about Folly specifically. Martin might almost imagine Garrett mentally inserting a different name.
If Martin has an idea of which way the wind is blowing, he's not letting on. What he says is, "I don't think you need to worry about getting married for a while."
"No. I wasn't planning to," Garrett agrees without reservation. "I'm not ready for that. But if you have someone you care about already, it almost seems that having a girl at a place like Red Mill too is just... unnecessary. And might cause problems with the one you've got."
"You just said you were letting go of Sparrow," Martin, poker-faced, reminds him.
Garrett smirks. His bluff has been called. "Lilly. She doesn't seem one that would take kindly to being scorned."
The poker-faced expression softens into one something more like sympathy. "That's a tough current to swim, little brother. Even if she's agreeable, Dad won't give his blessing to a marriage, and after the talking-to I got from Ben, I don't think he will either."
Garrett's face falls and he sighs, though by the droop of his shoulders it seems more in resignation than in anger or frustration. "Well, that confirms some things I suspected. Though to be honest, it's probably just as well."
He stretches his legs out in front of him and leans back against the wall, gazing down at his feet as he gathers his thoughts. "I like her, Martin. I really do," he says quietly without looking up. "Back before she went off with you, when we were traveling to Xanadu for the first time... gods, I adored her. But... then she left. Not a word. Not a sign. Nothing. And... I put her out of me mind. Or tried to. Or thought I had."
He looks up and meets Martin's eyes. "I walked the Pattern and went off on my own and started to get a taste of that feeling that you said I wouldn't understand 'til I walked," he smiles. "I found I wanted to do more of that; to go places and see things and test myself. I finally truly got over Lilly."
He sighs heavily, looking away. "And then she came back. And I don't know what to think anymore. I want to stay with her and help her heal, but..." He trails off and looks back up at his brother. "There are so many other things that I want to do too."
Martin nods, once. Sometime during this explanation he's finished off everything on the plate Garrett brought him, and he sets it aside now. "That's rough." There's a long pause in which it seems he may be disinclined to continue.
Then he adds, "The good news is, you're immortal and she's immortal, so even if you go off and do all the things you want to do, she'll still be around when you get back unless she does something stupid and gets herself killed, which doesn't seem likely. I waited years for Folly after I knew for sure she was it, and it was hard on both of us, but I'm glad we did. Waited, that is."
He lets out something like a sigh. "But you don't even sound like you know, Garrett. So maybe you should go out and get some experience with girls--not a full-time mistress, just, you know, laid--and live a little. And if you get back and you're still interested in Lilly, well, then you can see what happens. Does that make sense?"
Garrett lets out a snort of amusement. "Yeah, that makes sense," he concedes with visible relief.
After a moment, Garrett cocks his head and smirks, looking at Martin with curious interest. "So. Was it just brotherly interest that sparked this subject or is there something more? You mentioned Silken and the search for Lucas's loose ends. Is there more than one reason for me to develop an interest in a gentlemen's club?" he asks, his eyes sparkling a bit mischievously.
Martin shakes his head, once, giving Garrett a wry smirk. "No, actually, the fucking-your-cousin end was mostly where I was angling. Not Lilly, though, Silhouette. When and if she tries to bed you, don't do it."
Garrett starts in surprise. He hadn't expected that twist. "You think that's what she's after?" he asks.
Martin nods, once. "From Dad? Absolutely, because he plays like he's the sort that thinks with his dick. From you, not unless you can be useful for something she can't get out of Dad, but it seems like Silhouette's kind of gambit." The smirk has faded into something like a slightly distasteful twist of the lips.
"I've been a prince all my life and I've seen a lot of women like her, in Rebma and Amber and even in Shadow. All that talk about mistresses wasn't just for show; it's something you need my advice on. But it's important for you to know there's nothing dishonorable about being a whore in and of itself. You're a prince and you'll never need to whore yourself, but it's not like there's anything the matter with buying sex or companionship if you want to. They give you something of value, and you pay for it.
"When it's a problem is when you have a woman who deals in bad faith. An honest whore will tell you her fee and you can pay or decide the fee's too expensive for what you're getting. A dishonest whore will wait till you're hot for her and try to raise the price. Or she'll let you think it's just two people sharing affection and company and then she'll hand you a bill. And that's the kind of whore Silhouette is: the kind who won't even tell you there's a fee until after you've incurred it, and relies on your guilt to get a better bargain. Don't fall for it."
Garrett stares at Martin for a long moment, his expression bordering on a frown as he lets this all sink in. Finally, he nods once. "Thank you for being blunt."
He smiles wryly as he continues. "I know I've given you a bit of trouble in the past. I was sure I could become what I needed to without changing what I was. That Walk showed me how dead wrong I was. I can't say I'll never again be a pain in the ass, but at least I'll try to listen.
Martin cracks a wry grin, but doesn't interrupt.
"Now, about Silhouette," Garrett goes on. "I only met her once, shortly after she arrived. She didn't make any moves at the time, but it could be because Conner was there. She showed up while we were sparring and we each took a turn sparring with her. Now that you mention it, she did seem to be sizing me up. Testing, you know? I don't think I let anything important show, but now I'll know to watch it even closer. Has Father given any indication of the tack he wants us to take with her?"
There's a single shake of Martin's head in the negative. "Not directly. He let me play 'friendly face of future Amber', but I think that's a role you're better suited to. I do much better as bad cop." There's another flash of that wry smile.
"That could work," Garrett grins, intrigued by the idea.
"Reading between the lines, though, I think she's set her cap for Dad, and there's no reason I can think of for him to say 'no'. And you don't want to be fucking the same woman as Dad. Even if you're theoretically both ok with it, it's just a bad idea."
"Yeah. No, that's not something I'd aspire to," Garrett grimaces.
"There's something I wanted to ask you about though," he asks, changing the subject in a way that he hopes does not sound too awkward, "I assume Folly told you I asked her to draw a trump of me?"
"I think she might have mentioned it." Martin clearly didn't think much about it one way or the other if she did; her services are probably very much in demand. "Just don't sit for her in the nude," he says, deadpan.
Garrett snorts and grins. "Is that why she was giggling when she sketched me?" he teases.
He brushes his hair out of his eyes and grows more serious. "The trump is what I wanted to speak with you about. If I'm to be part of the Moonrider investigation, it will likely take me to distant shadows, so I asked Folly to make the trump of me for Father. And you and she, of course, if you need it."
There's a single curt nod from Martin.
He chews his lip as he gets into what he thinks might be dicey territory. "But trumps can be dangerous things, I hear. I know you were once attacked through one. Would you teach me how to defend myself against a trump attack?" Garrett asks.
"Yeah, I can teach you some of that. Most of my defense is practical. If you want theory, you'll need to talk to someone who really gets Trump. I'd say Paige but--speaking of don't fuck in other people's business." Martin allows a certain rueful tone to creep into his voice. "She'd be fine for the trump end of it, and I'd like to think she's grown past the rest of it, but still, no extracurricular tuition."
Martin hesitates for a bit before adding, "And I'll talk to Folly about making a trump of me for you, if she has time." His tone is even but something about the slight press of his lips as he closes his mouth on the words suggest that Martin isn't entirely happy about it.
Garrett gives him a quick nod and a slight smile. "There's no rush," he says agreeably. "I have one of Father and of Uncle Gerard if I get in trouble. And yes, I should talk to Paige. She did some sketches of me on the ship from Amber. And... yeah. Father gave me the same warning.
"So what's the best practical defense, that you know of?" he asks.
"Have you been on the receiving end of a Trump contact, ever?" Martin asks. "Because it's kind of hard to explain if you haven't. Or at least that's what I figured out after Ben tried to explain it to me and then I had to do it."
Garrett shakes his head. "No. So far, Paige has been the only one to sketch me, but it was before I walked the Pattern. I don't reckon the trump would have worked, and she didn't really say much about how to recognize it if it did. I've used them several times though. I have my own deck," Garrett explains.
"Let me try, then, but--it's kind of like explaining about walking the Pattern before you do it." By his expression, Martin is dubious about the real value at the same time his tone conveys recognition of the necessity. "When someone tries to Trump you, you can feel a kind of, pressure? I guess, in your head. Like you'd feel if you had a headache coming on, only it doesn't hurt. And you just--push back, really, that's the only way I can think of to describe it. The pressure, the contact, is coming toward you and you push it away and keep pushing until it stops."
"I think I felt something like that when I first started using the trumps, but I've gotten used to it on the sending end," Garrett notes. "So the 'pushing back'. That's if you're trying to block a contact, correct? If you wanted to receive one, would you open up to it, like opening a door?"
"Yeah, that's it." Martin nods, once. "I'm not very good at that because I don't take trump calls very often, and most of the people I'm used to taking them from are good at pushing back against my resistance. You can break through if the person you're trying to call resists. That's--well, that's part of what happened to me the first time." He breaks off there instead of continuing.
Garrett nods somberly. "Is there any way to tell who's calling you? I mean, does a contact from... say, Folly, feel different than one from anyone else?" he asks.
This time it's a single shake of the head in the negative. "Not to me, but I'm not sensitive that way. It might to Folly."
"I should ask her," Garrett says, storing that for future reference as he comes back to the subject at hand. "So thinking of it like a door, if you push back hard enough, you might be able to keep the other person from opening the contact," he reasons. "But if they're stronger than you and make the contact anyway, then they..."
Garrett stops, realizing he's ventured into territory that might be too personal or painful for his brother to discuss. Once finding you've stepped into the muck though, you still have to step out, hopefully without losing your boots. Garrett tries to keep it objective. "...what could someone do then?"
Martin's expression has gone studiously neutral and his tone is even. "Two options: something physical or something directly mental. If they're strong with trumps, they can hold you in place, prevent you from breaking the connection and getting help. Then they'll probably do something to mindfuck you, and you're already screwed there, because you already know they can best you in a psychic duel.
"I've never had that done to me--other than the holding in place part--so I'm only guessing. I'd talk to--" Martin pauses, and considers what name he should supply, and finally has to admit "--I'm not even sure who I would talk, to, honestly. And I'd be careful, because asking the question might indicate to someone you thought they would, which might be an insult. Dad might have a better idea, and in any case he won't take the question amiss.
"The other answer, which I do have experience with, is physical, at least once you're held in place. You can be physically attacked through the connection. If you can't defend yourself, the other party doesn't have to be any good to hurt you.
"What you really want," he finishes, "is a way to control who has trumps of you. And other than trusting the people who make trumps--" a thought which makes Martin's expression harden "--you don't."
Garrett nods slowly and thoughtfully. "Thank you," he says finally. "Defending yourself is easier if you know what you might have to defend against."
He rises and heads for the fridge. From it, he pulls two beers and offers Martin one. "On another note, what's this about Meg? I have a niece that's older than me mum?" he asks with a hint of a smirk.
Martin takes the beer and opens the bottle, which should require an opener, but Martin's just that strong and unconcerned about cutting his hand on the metal of the cap. "I'm about three hundred years old. I could have kids that are older than your grandmother," he points mock-irritably.
"And Meg goes back to the rule of no cousin-f**king. You may be able to control the probability of her catching, but that doesn't mean she won't ensorcel herself to catch anyway." Martin pauses to let Garrett catch the significance of that in terms of their previous discussion.
Garrett looks up in surprise. "You can do that?! Whoa," he gasps, reminded yet again how little he knows about pattern manipulation. He shakes it off and continues, "Yeah, I met Meg once. She seemed very... motherly. She was nice enough though. She told me some things I needed to hear. How to deal with elders and such," he explains, taking a pull off his beer.
"Really?" says Martin. "I have to wonder what she said. You probably shouldn't tell me, though. I've been in her position often enough to know better than to ask." He snags his own beer and decides it's time for an opportune swallow.
"It wasn't that bad," Garrett dismisses the concerns with a shrug. "Just some encouragement about how to learn from you or Brennan without having to become a copy of you. It just started me thinking that Father is not Corwin or Bleys or Eric, but he's still effective. He does things his own way, just like they all do. I just have to figure out what 'my way' is gonna be."
He takes another sip of his beer before continuing. "I reckon you know about the duel," he says with a sour look.
Martin makes no effort to avoid the change of subject. He answers the implicit question with a single sharp nod. "I heard," he says, "but not from an uninvolved party. It sounds like you had a bad situation on your hands. I'd be interested in hearing how it happened."
Garrett shrugs. "They needed a dispute settled and I guess I was the only one available at the time," he explains. "As I understand it, Venesch was bound by the honor code of his homeland to take his own life after Huon escaped from Amber. Robin stopped him, forcibly, seeing his death as a waste of a valuable warrior. He took her actions as an insult and insulted her back."
He takes another swig of his beer and rakes his hand through his hair as he continues, "I listened to both sides and made a ruling. I don't think Robin meant what she did to sully his honor. But she was seeing things through her own lens and didn't truly understand how much this meant to him. At the same time, honor is all well and good, but Venesch has been in Amber a long time. At some point, you have to accept the customs of your adopted homeland and not kill yourself if things don't go your way.
"My decision came down to the fact that we can't afford to lose either one of them to an honor duel to the death. We've got Moonriders lurking about and dragons getting active again. So I ordered a duel to first blood. Get it over and done and save the blood and killing for the real enemies," Garrett concludes.
"A more skillful Regent, or one more interested in Amber than in getting his own people in positions of power or other forms of self-aggrandizement, could have avoided the situation by not putting Venesch on the hook for Huon's escape," Martin opines. "But that's hardly your fault." The long swig of his beer than Garrett took while telling the tale seems like a good idea, so Martin does the same. "You made the best of a bad situation. I expect Venesch to lose, which is a shame, but at least his honor will be satisfied without him having to cut his belly open."
The corner of Garrett's mouth reveals the barest glimpse of a smile before he hides it at the rim of his beer bottle. More evidence of how the patternwalk has changed him, he notices. Before, he would have wriggled like a happy puppy that Martin seemed to approve of his handling of the situation. Now, it's different. Yes, the approval warms him, but there's another feeling too. One of satisfaction. Entitlement, perhaps. He feels... royal. Finally.
But enough of that. Covering his happiness, Garrett simply nods in acknowledgement and says, "One hopes. The duel was put on hold because of the funerals though, and last I heard, Robin was off in Broceliande. It will all have to wait until she returns. Perhaps Soren can come up with something useful for Venesch to do in the meantime.
"Do you and Folly need any extra guards?" he asks with a smirk.
Martin smirks right back. "Technically, I've never been released from the assignment Dad gave me at the coronation, which was: keep Folly safe. So, thanks but no thanks." His expression sobers. "Personally I'd like to see him out of Amber and Xanadu both, but that'll come after the duel. He was Dad's jailer and while Dad's more forgiving than I am, he's got a long memory. Maybe we have some kid we can put Venesch onto watching? I think he was Jerod's teacher; he's got to be good for that."
"Well... there's Lucas's kids in Paris..." Garrett suggests with a sly grin.
The young prince rises and stretches. "I should catch up with Signy soon on the Moonrider thing, but I wanted to tell you the same thing I told Folly. I aim to change the word 'uncle' into something positive, so whatever you and Folly need, let me know," he offers, then adds, "For either kid."
Martin smirks at that last. "Let's just not put my daughter and your mother in the same room together, and we'll consider it well-done. And let me know if you need any help I can give from here with the Moonrider thing, all right?"
Garrett shudders at that vision and nods at the offer of help. "Thanks. You never know when a quick out may come in handy."
Last modified: 16 January 2011