Brita slipped into the room after the first number, timing her entrance during the polite clapping of the audience so as not to disturb the performer. She carries two small bags, one of which she will leave with Nanny Starch for Hope and Philippe. The other she will give to Cousin Paige at some break in the action. "For the children," she says. "As a thank you for such a wonderful new tradition."
The bag for Hope and Philippe contains a hand carved pony painted a midnight black with a white blaze star on the forehead. There is also a small carved wooden figure - female with blond tresses and a helm with wings - posed to sit astride the horse. There is also a cloth pony sewn together in a mottled patchwork of reddish browns. It has a black mane and tail.
For the twins, there is a small, soft hammer sewn out of cloth with intricate scroll work that looks like lightning bolts and a stuffed dog in the colors of the rainbow.
Brita will approach Lucas at some point later after the dancing has been going on a while. "Lord Lucas, I am sorry for my late entrance. I have no good excuse." She will also tender the same apology to Hope.
Hope receives the apology with careful attentuion, a slight, considering frown. And then she asks, "But did you hear us? Did you like it?"
"I loved it," Brita says sincerely. "It reminded me of the Great Parties my Grand Father used to host at the Grand Palace of Valhalla. The music and singing was wonderful and I loved your poetry."
If assured that Brita did, her face will lit up in a smile that is more reminescent of her mother than her father.
Lucas, however, receives the apologies with a wave of his hand and his own rather more world weary smile.
"No apologies are necessary, I assure you," he says. "I'm simply delighted you were able to find the time to attend so so after your return. And, of course, to see your in such ... ah ... radiant condition."
His eyes alight on her hair, and the smile deepens a little. "I presume congratulations are in order ..."
A smile spreads across Brita's features in response. "Yes, thank you."
"Perhaps you would care for a dance?" he asks - and then in a lower voice he adds, "Not only will I enjoy the privilege of escorting you onto the floor, but you will also save me from having to dance with my delightful belle mere for the next fifiteen minutes ... "
Lucas more than likely remembers that Brita does not dance well. Dancing in Asgard tended to be on tables and rather rauctious. However, her face turns serious after the request and she says, "I would be honored to take up some of your time, Cousin." and she follows him to the floor. Her movements on the dance floor are a little stiff, but she does seem to enjoy the music and will participate in light banter with Lucas.
Lucas has selected one of the less formal dances - these are, after all, based on Garnathian folk tunes. It is a dance that involves skipping and swinging, clapping and merry boot stamping rather than intricate figures elaborately performed. No tossing, though - Lucas feels up to swinging Brita round, but not to tossing the beserker in the air - and he has a great aversion to being tossed himself.
[Brita _skipping_?? ] Brita follows along and clearly has fun although several looks she sends Lucas through the course of the dance seem to indicate a certain rueful laughter at the 6ft2in boehmoth in the midst of the swirl of dancers.
Lucas, of course, carries it off with aplomb. Tall ladies are going to be much in request at dances in the coming weeks, while small and dainty girls will be sulking by the walls.
After the dance is done, he leads her - if she wishes to go - to the refreshment table. "I must get some lemonade for Solace," he says. "You know that she has been ill?"
Brita follows Lucas to the table but demurs when offered refreshments. "Ill? How so? Is it serious? What can I do?" she asks, clearly concerned.
[Did Brita know about Solace's first 'fainting' spell? I can't remember.... If she did, her questions would include one on whether now was similar to before.]
[I think she didn't - it happened while she was away.]
[Does Lucas know about Brita's ability to sniff out Amberites?]
[Good question. I don't think so, but Brita's question above about how far she is removed from Oberon should reveal to Lucas that she knows Solace is "of the blood"... GMs - I assume that after the five years of association with the Cousins and sundry in Amber, Brita has sniffed out Solace's ancestry. She has never discussed it as she never felt it was a question or a concern.]
"Not serious, we hope," says Lucas. "She recovered from her first fainting spell with reasonable promptitude. This second ... I am insisting she rests thoroughly, but I anticipate that she will regain her usual strength within a week or so."
He pours a glass of lemonade carefully, and then offers to pour another for Brita - unless she wishes to quaff something stronger.
Brita shakes her head at the offer of any drink. "Second fainting spell? this has happened before?"
[to which Lucas replies...]
"Merlin checked her out for sorcery," he goes on, "and that yielded nothing. But the attacks were sudden, and accompanied with rather horrid migraine attacks.
"I hope to prevent a third," he adds grimly.
"Attacks? and she gets a Migraine with it? It sounds like what happened with my Da when I tried to contact him via a Trump Sketch. He was apparently incapacitated as with too much mead, but he recovered. Master Reid feels it is because he is too far removed from the Trunk of the Amber tree. He decends from Oberon through Prince Finndo - his great-grandfather, I believe, so four or five generations separated depending on how one counts it. Could someone have tried to contact Cousin Solace and do you know how far removed she is from Oberon?"
Lucas' dark eyebrows lift (OOC - hey, why should Brennan and Vere have all the eyebrow fun in this scene?).
"The degree has never been determined," he says slowly. "Indeed, it is only recently that I have become convinced ...
"You think she might be remotely related? Rumour has suggested that her father might have been Eric ... I must admit that I woyuld not have thought my belle mere, even in her youth ... "
An expression of something close to alarm crosses Lucas' aristocratic features. "Brita - do you believe Lady Vesper to be a descendant of Oberon?"
"Lady Vesper? No, she has no Scent of Amber, but Cousin Solace - yes, she is related. You didn't _Know_?"
"Brita," says Lucas, "you stand in grave danger of being kissed. In fact, if it were not for your prodigious abilities with the battle axe and the fact that it might give rise to unseemly comments, I might pick you up and swing you around with whoops of joy.
"I had come to suspect Solace's antecedents. My dread was that they came from her mother's side, and I would have Lady Vesper on my back for all eternity."
Brita gives Lucas a wry smile. "I am glad I could assist, Cousin Lucas. I can understand how certain family can make even the smallest time seem eternal."
As the dancing begin Vere smiles, and makes certain that he reaches Lady Vesper before anyone else. "I hope your Ladyship will do me the honour," he says, taking her hand and leading her into the dance, without giving her a chance to refuse. During the dance he engages in a running monologue on the wildlife he saw on his journey, and the various kinds of fish he observed in Rebma, and an interesting theory he has been developing regarding the importance of local wildlife to the form that a developing civilization takes.
When the dance ends he expresses his pleasure, telling her that this was almost as splendid a dance as the waltz they shared at the coronation, and then he gestures for Castor to come and dance with Lady Vesper.
Passing by his captains on his way to Lucas, he mutters, "See to it that that woman dances with each of you in turn. Be charming, and do not allow her to return to her seat until the dancing has ended." He smiles and bows slightly in Solace's direction.
Hew then hovers near Lucas, not intruding but making it clear by his body language that he would like a chance to talk.
Lucas has watched Vere's manoeuvres with deep appreciation - he enjoys watching a master craftsman at work. When Vere joins him, he has just completed half a dance with Hope, and has returned her to Solace, so he turns to his cousin almost immediately, and draws him aside a little, smiling.
"You have briefed all your officers?" he says, amused. "Do you think that feeding her a well-nigh inexhaustible supply of deferential Rebman males will render her less impossible over the breakfast cups?"
"They are heading to war," Vere replies, deadpan. "I want to be certain they have the courage to face the horrors that lie ahead of them."
Lucas laughs. "You are with Brennan, then, in holding that the horrors of a Children's Concert attended by my belle mere are unparalleled in the annals of Amber? There are some whose nerve has broken entirely at the prospect, I believe."
He gestures to the display of refreshments. "Would you care for anything? I've avoided champagne fountains, as you can see. I wanted this to be a pleasant memory for Maman."
"Thank you," Vere replies, looking over the choices. "I did not bring anything for the orphans, I fear, but your actions in bringing their situation to our attention have started me thinking about their future. And whether it will be here, or in Xanadu."
"With the war in Arden, Xanadu might be a better option," says Lucas soberly. "I shall be going over there myself, soon. The King has spoken to me about the need to bring in people with the right sort of entrepreneurial spirit - if properly organised, young people for a young land might be a solution. It would need to be carefully organised, of course, to ensure that the children have a chance to develop innate talents and skills, and not merely ones that are convenient unto the day. I've never seen the point in 'mute, inglorious Miltons' myself. I have rather gone for the 'If you've got it, flaunt it' school of philosophy, as I am sure you will be unsurprised to learn."
He slides out his gold cigarette case, with the St Cyr crest, and flips it open, revealing the gold-tipped black cigarettes. He offers one to Vere before taking his own.
"Do you have another suggestion?" he asks.
"I was thinking of the importance of a good education to young people without family connections, and that led me to think of the importance of an organized system of higher education to a realm. I began to toy with the idea of establishing a comprehensive educational system, not tied to any particular noble or merchant house, nor to any particular faction. Orphans, it seems to me, might be an excellent core for the beginnings of this system, developing a loyalty to the institution, which hopefully can carry over to the children of the wealthy, who will in future days be clamoring to be admitted." Vere accepts a glass of wine from Gouter with a small nod of thanks. "I am imagining an institution that will serve the family and crown by producing experts in a thousand fields, and that will grow and develop over the centuries. We can make a beginning now. Either as a way to help shape what Xanadu will become, or as a way to retain a place for Amber." His eyes look out past the walls of the room. "Amber, the University of All Reality...."
Lucas nods thoughtfully.
"I would suggest that agriculture should be one of the first faculties," he says. "And perhaps advanced woodworking offered as an extra." He pauses, considering. "Architecture," he says. "Textiles. A thorough grounding in practical skills. The potential to undertake more academic courses for the gifted. Performing arts too - although I daresay the King will insist on it." He shoots a pensive look at Vere. "How soon are you planning on coming to Xanadu yourself?"
"Alas, I have no idea. I do not know how long the problem in my mother's land will take. After that, I must see to it that any of the Rebmans who wish are returned to their home." Vere's eyes seek out Gerard in his wheeled chair. "And then, my focus must be on Father's legs. If he is still in Amber, I will be returning there. If he has moved to Xanadu, then that is where I will go. At least at first."
Lucas nods slowly. "It does seem rather a waste of talent - the sort of waste you yourself have deplored - to send off to war one of the few family members who actually has the wits to play a significant role in the development of our new centre of reality," he says with some acerbity. "We are, after all, well supplied with the sort of boneheads who think living and dying by the sword is a glorious thing - and who am I to deny them that privilege?
"On the other hand, I do understand the power of loyalty to one's family - to one's home Shadow. And the bitterness of having failed to help."
Something in Lucas' last words suggests that bitterness can be deep indeed.
Vere delicately refrains from probing at the obviously still open wound implied by Lucas' words, and instead returns to the subject of the university, "While I cannot be of any assistance in the initial stages of establishing the university, whether the final decision is to move the orphans to Xanadu to help encourage a quicker migration or to found the institution here in Amber to help the original city survive against the attractions of Paris and Xanadu, I thought we might be able to discuss some issues briefly. For instance, I do now know if Random is planning on retaining the services of Nestor as his librarian. If not, he would make an excellent head of the institution. And, I might point out, engaging the services of experts in a variety of fields is a way to ensure their continued availability to the family, and the crown, whenever their expertise might be needed."
"I agree," says Lucas, "and I shall do what I can to further your idea. With the King's permission to transfer those I see as useful to the future of Xanadu, of course, the task becomes very much easier. And Nestor ... yes, he would make an excellent head of the institution. In fact, he will doubtless do all the work, and I shall not have to sacrifice my hard-won reputation for habitual indolence."
"It would be a great shame to risk ruining such a well-established reputation," Vere agrees. "Is there anything I can do to aid this effort, keeping in mind that I am leaving early tomorrow and will be spending most of this night making final preparations?"
"Apart from drawing up the full prospectus?" counters Lucas. "No, I don't think so."
He smiles suddenly. "In fact, I think it is for me to offer you what aid I can this night, to see that all goes smoothly. Once this concert is completed, is there anything I can do to help you prepare?"
Vere laughs. "The main problem I worry about is making certain all the men are back from whatever pleasures they have found in the city. I've left that to the sergeants, and the men had strict orders to remain in groups and not become separated, but soldiers are soldiers. After the concert the captains I have brought with me and I are going on a sweep through the city to locate any missing men, while the captains back at camp continue preparations for departure. I terrorized a variety of suppliers in the city into 'finding' materials on short notice, by the way, and there might be minor repercussions of that working there way up the mountain. Nothing serious, I shouldn't think, just more complaints about how unreasonable royals can be. I did take your advice regarding an emblem, by the way. We are supposed to have a standard, a swan done in the Rebman artistic style, ready by this evening. If you could send someone to be certain that it is ready and delivered to us this night that will save me one task. There should be a smaller banner as well, a personal emblem."
He pauses, as though considering, and then says, "I had thought to ask my sister to handle this next task, but I confess to feeling somewhat odd about entrusting this particular mission to a female relative. I have a small token I wished to have passed on to Lady Robin if she returns to Amber. I wonder if I might ask you to hold onto it, in case she should come here before I return?"
"I would be honoured by your trust," says Lucas. "I shall keep it safe. And Gaston will take charge of the arrangements for your standard - have no worries."
He pauses and thoughtfully considerable his immaculately manicured nails. "It does occur that if you are looking to ... ah ... roust your men out of the dives of Amber, it might be worth my accompanying you. One is, of course, always reluctant to boast, but I suspect my acquaintance with the such establishments is pretty well unparalled among our generation, although I am aware I have had formidable competition."
"I would be honoured," Vere says in return. "I was counting upon the expertise of my own native guide, a sailor named Shrike, but I would not turn down the assistance of a Lord of Amber." He reaches into his pouch and pulls out a leather arm band. "I found this in the city," he says. "Actually, to be honest, I told several merchants that I absolutely must have something similar to this, and would think favourably of whoever could provide me with one, and it was found for me. I suspect that Robin would be amused at the chicanery and villainy that must have followed it on its way back to me."
The armband is of simple dark brown leather, with an engraving of two flying hawks.
Lucas nods in approval - of the device and - being Lucas - of the design.
"Excellent work," he says appreciatively. "I shall guard it well."
"Thank you," Vere replies with a nod.
After the Children's Concert, after Brennan has made the rounds, as it were, congratulating the children on their performance (not to mention surreptitiously gauging Brooke and Leif's apparent ages) Brennan catches sight of Brita.
He catches her eye, if possible, and circulates his way through the crowd to her. "Brita," he greets her, "Good to see you back in Amber. Will you have some time later tonight, or perhaps tomorrow?"
[Note for Monica: If Brita's looked over her papers, she'll find a note from Brennan just after he returned to Amber. Allllll the way back on October 11.]
"Brennan, yes. I'm sorry I have not gotten back with you sooner. I should be free tonight."
Brennan nods. "Looking forward to it."
"Shall we say, after dinner?" Brita asks.
Brennan nods. "My quarters will be convenient," he says, easily. For someone as stand-offish as Brennan can sometimes be, that's a strong implication that the matter is confidential, and important to him.
"Good. I will come by shortly after dinner then," Brita confirms. "How is Cousin Ambrose? He is still in your Home Uxmal?"
Brennan nods. "We'll talk about that, too."
Brita nods back and returns her attention to the dancers. The two drift to mingle with others.
After talking to Hope and dancing with Lucas, Solange will look for Gerard. She'll start first on the dance floor, as Hope said she was to dance with him. If that fails to turn him up, she'll return to where she left him next to Solace and Queen Vialle.
He's right where she left him.
"Father, have you seen Hannah here tonight?" she asks. "I wanted to talk to her, but I'm going to need you to point her out to me. I don't know what she looks like.
"She's a dark-haired lass with blue eyes. She's wearing a blue shirt and a black skirt, if I remember correctly." He sits up and looks around. "That's her over there, speaking with one of the orphans."
Hannah is, in fact, a dark haired lass with blue eyes in the clothing Gerard described. The hair is in a braided bun, but it's very black. She's not speaking with the boy so much as she's playing - he's got his hands palm up and she's got her palms over his, just barely touching. She's grinning and seems to be focused on his face. He seems to be taunting her a little, but he's smiling. When he jerks his hands around to smack the top of hers, she pulls back out of the way, laughing.
Solange squeezes Gerard's hand in thanks and makes her way over. She watches them play for a moment or two, then comments, "I think he's winning."
When Hannah turns to look, she sees a young woman with shortish blonde hair in a floor-length gold gown. The woman smiles and extends her hand. "Hi, I'm Solange, Gerard's foster daughter. Are you Hannah?"
"I am," Hannah smiles, and shakes hands. She turns back to the boy, quickly. "I'll have to practice. Do you think your, um, the person in charge of the orphanage would care if I came down to visit? Would you ask them for me?" Hannah asks, and waits until he leaves before she speaks to Solange again.
"It's so nice to meet you, your father is a gem," Hannah smiles, the affection she's already built for Gerard showing in her face.
"Yes, he is," she agrees wholeheartedly. "Interestingly enough, Father was exactly whom I wanted to talk to you about, if you have a moment, or we can arrange another time."
From a corner of the room where he was speaking with Castor Vere notes his sister's movements. He gives a final instruction, then heads towards the two ladies, pausing just before reaching them to raise an interrogative eyebrow at his sister. He doesn't come any nearer without a clear invitation.
She glances toward him at his approach, catches the eyebrow, then smiles in a "of course you're invited, come on over" expression, jerking her head in their direction. She turns back to Hannah. "Have you met my brother Vere?"
"No," Hannah says, surprised, and turns to look his way. "Good, this is good, you're both back. Nice to meet you, I'm... Hannah." She holds out her hand to Vere.
Vere takes her hand and bows slightly. "Lady Hannah," he says, "It is a pleasure to meet you. I fear I am leaving again early tomorrow morning, and cannot stay my departure, so I am sure you can understand why I think it imperative that we speak tonight, rude though it may seem to impose so upon first meeting."
Hannah blinks once and then shrugs. "You've got important things to do, I've heard. Tonight is fine, if we could sit down somewhere quiet?" She looks between the two of them to see where they'd like to do this.
"Perhaps after this occasion is over?" Solange suggests. She looks at her brother. "Where would be a good place for us to meet?"
Vere pauses, then says, "I wonder whether it is necessary to wait? I am supposed to leave immediately after this concert to gather my men and prepare for tomorrow's departure, if we wait until after the concert then the result will be my captains," he gestures in a restrained fashion towards the Rebmans, "hovering outside whatever chamber we choose, waiting anxiously for me to finish. Not to mention that Lord Lucas also offered to assist me, and one would not wish to keep him waiting. Perhaps immediately after whatever grand finale Lucas has chosen to cap this event we can simply find a quiet corner and carry out our discussion while everyone else continues to converse, mingle, and partake of the refreshments?"
Hannah seems to weigh this, and then nods. "A quiet corner should be fine. I can show Solange my sketches later."
"Good. Then we can find each other after the finale." Solange squeezes Hannah's shoulder lightly and smiles at her. "Until then..." Then she glances at her brother. "Vere, do you have a moment?"
Vere nods. "I am at your command, Sister."
Hannah gives them both one last smile and turns back to look for her orphan.
Solange links her arm in her brother's and steers him away from most of the noise and bustle around them. "Vere, while you're in the Isles, if you would...if you would keep an ear open to any information about Ysabeau, I would be grateful. Father told me, some time back, that Vianis opened Ysabeau's grave. I wanted to know why, but Father didn't know himself. I certainly don't want to distract you from what you're about to do. Just...if you would...keep an ear open."
Vere nods gravely. "Of course." He pauses, looking past her into the distance, then says, very softly, "Ghosts sometimes walk in the isles, Sister. And even a dead goddess might be called back, by rituals dark and fell."
She stares at him. "Do you think that's what Vianis wants, to bring Ysabeau back? Is that even _possible_? I mean, wouldn't it be a shadow? Not really her..."
Vere shrugs. "What is a ghost?" he asks rhetorically. "I am a mere man, not allowed to study theology or philosophy while I was in the Isles. I have never met the ghost of a member of the Family. I do not know the answers to these questions. I do not know if there _are_ answers to these questions. But I see possibilities, and I consider implications. I am more grateful than I can say that the Chancellor did not know the true lineage of Robin when they met." He regards her for a moment, then says quietly, "I cast the cards, Solange, for what I would find in the Isles. The reading is... vague, of course. But there is a warning of temptation, and a possibility that it is a temptation for, of, or by one of the Blood Royal."
"Perhaps that does point to Ysabeau...or perhaps it means that neither Robin nor I should ever go to the Isles....or perhaps both. Or neither. Or something else entirely." Solange exhales sharply and looks away to the couples on the dance floor, twirling in their stately waltz. "I know what temptation lies for me in the Isles," she continues softly, troubled. "What temptation lies for you?"
"If I knew that, I would know to prepare for it." He shakes his head ruefully. "What occurred to me instantly was the temptation to use my newly gained abilities to manipulate shadow to aid me in the war against the Chancellor. I fear that with the damage already done to the fabric of the shadow I may accidentally push it beyond any hope of repair. And I do not yet know enough about the use of such powers to be able to sense where the point of no return is. So, then, I go into this fight with an ultimate weapon in my scabbard, and the fear that to use it will destroy allies and foes alike. What then, do I do, if faced with a situation where the choice is to watch my allies die and my cause fail if I do not use it? That is what I fear."
Solange turns to face him. "Your purpose is to go to the Isles -- where many, many men, women, and children live and work and play -- and save them. Destroying the Isles to save your allies defeats your greater purpose. Your allies knew your purpose and the associated risks when they chose to ally with you." She closes her eyes. "War is a terrible thing. I pray it does not come to that, Vere, but if it does, I would not risk destroying the Isles." Her eyes open again.
Vere is silent for a long moment, and then says softly, "Your foster father has agreed to be the captain of my ship for this mission."
Solange's gaze at her brother's face falters. Her eyes sink down to her fists, tightly clenched around the soft fabric of her skirts. "My heart says that my answer cannot change because of that, even though my insides beg to differ. I feel as though there is a great weight inside my chest, knowing that both of you will be in danger."
She draws a deep breath and looks back up. "Regardless of what I think, you will be the one there making the decisions. I have faith that, whatever they may be, they will be the best ones."
"If you have such faith in me, how can I not have faith in myself?" Vere asks with a smile. He reaches out and touches her shoulder lightly. "I worry that there is no one here for you to talk with as a friend. Folly has left for the new kingdom. I am leaving with your foster father. Your foster aunt has her own concerns. The family scatters." His eyes search hers. "You will remember to take care of yourself, amidst the effort you spend on taking care of others? It is Father's greatest failing, and I would not see you fall into the same habits."
"I'll be fine," she assures him, smiling in return. "I'm glad I came back when I did, in time to help father settle in Xanadu, and in time to visit with you a bit before you left. Vere, be safe!" Solange gives her brother a spontaneous bear hug worthy of Gerard.
She stands back and her face brightens. "It's been so long since I've danced, and I very much enjoyed the waltz I had with Lucas... Do you have time to dance once with me?"
"I should be delighted," he replies, leading her out onto the floor.
After the final strains of the last waltz die away, a loud boom! sound is heard outside.
"Ah!" says Lucas. "The after-concert entertainment. Follow me, please."
Those who wish to follow him are led out to a small flat terrace roof that forms part of the castle. Here tubs of rich night scented flowers have been arranged, a table set with refreshments, including the sort of food and drink that tastes so good at night in the open air, like roasted chestnuts, and mugs of heated spiced ale, wine and something non-alcoholic for the children. A small chamber orchestra is playing quietly in a small pavilion, and there are warm shawls for people to wear if they are cold. In short, all the senses are to be catered for ...
Lady Vesper is heard asking Lucas something in her most querulous voice, and Lucas is replying affably, "Yes, yes, they've all been alerted. But I anticipate no accidents within the city."
Then he is moving forward, past where Solace reclines on a chaise longue, Phillippe nestled in her arms, to where there is a low wall. This he lifts Hope onto, steadying her with an arm around her (although the drop on the other side is only about three feet. Nevertheless, beyond another wall a few feet beyond, the whole city of Amber lies spread out before them - jewels scattered with careless profusion onto black velvet, with the black ink of the sea beyond.
"Now," he says to his daughter, "watch the sky."
There is a moment of delicious anticipation in which the peace of Amber by moonlight is unbroken. Then, just at the point when onlookers would have started to murmur restlessly, there is a *popping* of displaced air and the triumphal roar of sixteen dragons, hurtling toward each other in four tight formations from the cardinal points of the compass.
Breathing jets of flame that narrowly miss singeing their wingmates, the four diamonds of bronze and gold, brown, green and blue rocket toward a common center at dizzying speed - and within meters of each other, where the great reptiles seem doomed to crash, they break off into four new formations streaking away northwest, southeast, up and into a wild dive from which the four individuals pull out in all different directions. The maneuver is a breathtaking spectacle, their flight paths dotted in the sky with brief gouts of fire.
There follows an exhibition of precision flying that stuns and exhilarates. Wings gleaming in the light of the full moon, the dragons weave intricate patterns in the sky, narrowly miss crashing and burning each other any number of times in their elaborate pas de seize. The bursts of flame punctuate but illuminate only modestly - a conservative use of resources gathered for war, some in the crowd must surely realize. A few may even realize that every bit of showing away, despite certain bronze riders' manic howls of laughter just at the edge of audibility now and then, is a rigorous drill in itself for close aerial combat.
The show lasts perhaps half a glass before its finale, a flaming, cycling fountain of wild motion. And as abruptly as it began, before the last flame has dissipated, the sixteen dragons wink out of existence and the air above the city is still.
Vere watches the whole show in complete silence, bathing in the fantastic display of skill and beauty, a part of his mind wishing Robin could be there with him to share this amazing vision of power, grace, and control.
Meanwhile, he analyzes the abilities of the dragons and their riders. This is the first time he has seen them in anything approaching combat, and he does not lose the chance to better calculate exactly what sort of fighters they are going to make.
Hannah, on the other hand, gasps when they appear, oohs and ahs right along with the children, and watches the whole show in wide-eyed wonder, looking around only a few times to confirm she's seeing what she thinks she's seeing.
Brita, who had taken up a position at the back of the crowd in defference to her height, stares awestruck at the first formation. Then, as the aerial acrobatics progress, her awe turns to glee. Her eyes never leave the dragons. She claps enthusiastically at the more daring feats and laughs with glee at the artful turn of tail flicked at just the right instant to put an exclamation point to a seemingly uncontrolled tumble.
At the end of the performance, Brita is Glowing. Her inner Berserker Fire has been stoked into a joyous, if controlled, blaze that lights her eyes to sparkling, molten emeralds. The ends of her braids are crackling with static. She approaches Lucas and Hope, striding through others to reach him. "A Stupendous Climax to a Spectacular Evening, Master Lucas and Mistress Hope. You are truly Beyond Compare when it comes to Hosting a Cultural Extraveganza," Brita voice echoes oddly as if she were bellowing inside.
Lucas bows gracefully in response. "I am delighted my humble efforts brought such pleasure," he says. "Although, of course, it was really Jovian and Hope's humble efforts that truly made the evening.
"Only You will be able to top this Night," she adds with a low bow from the waist. She tips up her head from the bow and winks at Hope, before she strides off into said night to find someone to spar against to release the Energy crackling through her.
Lucas watches her go with a smile.
"We must hope so, mustn't we, Hope?" he says gently. He looks out over Amber, where the lights are dimming once more, as the people who ran outside to watch the dragon display now return to their homes and their beds, and the carefully positioned etchers put away their easels aned hurry to the offices of their respective broadsheets (Lucas believes in sending out press releases with details of the best etching opportunities).
"We must certainly hope so."
Last modified: 14 January 2005