After lunch, a note arrives from Martin, suggesting that he and Merlin come by between afternoon tea and dinner to examine Solace, if that's agreeable. Solace looks to Lucas for guidance on the matter.
Lucas sends a return note to Martin approving the hour, and busies himself with various duties and pleasures until that time.
At the appointed hour, Martin and Merlin arrive. Solace rises to greet them, as much, Lucas thinks, to show how well she is as to give Martin a close kinsman's embrace. Introductions are made, and there is a little social chatter. This is probably to put Solace at ease.
"So," says Lucas to Martin cheerfully, "how did you find your father?"
He is clearly as aware as Martin of the ambiguity of the question.
"The usual way: by trump," Martin says, choosing which of the meanings to answer. "I should say he found me that way. You'll like Xanadu, I think. The castle has indoor plumbing and electricity--much more civilized than chamberpots and candles."
Lucas gives a faint shudder. "Quite. Liberation from the noisome privy is a consummation devoutly to be wished. I forsee Amberites positively flocking."
Martin goes on at some length about the view and the waterfall and the bay, but doesn't elaborate on the most important feature of the new castle. He does mention a fellow named Soren in passing a couple of times, and when Solace asks who he is, Martin explains he's going to be Random's court bard--and producer.
Lucas listens with lively interest, and several times asks questiions - sometimes seemingly anxious to obtain details of the fixtures and fittings, sometimes with more depth than that. He wants to know, for example, to what extent the land around the castle has been developed, and its potential for settlement.
The castle is at least partially built into the very fabric of the mountain, Martin explains, and is very defensible.
He also describes the area around the castle: the sheer cliff, the bay, the potential for a natural harbor. He says that on their climb back up, he and Random didn't see any inhabitants, although he could see where the outlines of the city would be.
Solace asks why they were climbing, and Martin confesses with perhaps the mildest touch of embarrassment that they dived off the cliff into the bay.
Lucas winces. "So ... strenuous," he murmurs. "So ... hearty. Smacking of mens sana in corpore sano. Cold baths and muddy walks. You should watch it, Martin. Either you'll end up wanting to whip yourself with birch twigs ... so lacerating ... or you'll develop a penchant for tweed jackets with leather patches on the elbows and pipe smoking, and then I shall have to drop our connection entirely."
He sinks back in his armchair as though overcome even by the idea of such vigorous exercise, but then lifts his heavy eyebrows to give Martin one of his more lizard-like looks.
"I presume this diving and climbing is not going to be compulsory? Especially before breakfast. In fact, I hope the word sport is not one that will gain admittance to the lexicon of Xanadu. Much as I admire the male form in all its glory, the thwack! of wet towel slapping on shower-pinkened flesh is never a sound that has appealed overmuch. Nor has the locker room bragging and jests that inevitably accompany it. And I have been led to believe that the practice of sport leads inevitably to such appalling rituals, as surely as an excess of conviviality in the evening leads to a faint suggest of unwellness in the morning ... "
Martin can't quite stifle his amusement at Lucas' turn of phrase, while Merlin looks increasingly bewildered. Finally, Martin says, "You'll have to take it up with my dad. He's the one who was talking about finding a good launching spot for his hang-glider."
Lucas closes his eyes in pious horror.
After a moment he adds, "He didn't make Soren and Folly do the jump, so you can probably excuse yourself."
"Lovely," says Lucas. "Of all the Shadow monarchs to model himself upon ... your father appears to have gone with the youthful Henry VIII of England ... He'll be having a royal tennis court next, and there'll be talk of 'buffets', and he won't be meaning long tables groaning with rapidly congealing food while the guests fight over an inadequate supply of napkins either."
Martin laughs again. "We could have it a lot worse, Lucas. Grandfather made our uncles joust, you know."
Lucas gives a faint shudder. "I've always felt a good round of croquet has most of the possibilities of a tournament," he says musingly, "and a great many more possibilities for malice, while obviating the need to clad oneself in iron-plating."
"I think we're supposed to save our malice for the poker table," Martin replies. "Jumping off cliff is supposed to be fun."
[As they talk, Lucas] is watching Merlin with Solace with a certain wariness - like the well-brought-up child who watches a toy he is rather fond of being examined by another, strange child, whose carefulness cannot be guaranteed.
Merlin lets Martin do most of the social chattering. He doesn't seem to be much for small talk, although Lucas feels it is more because he's shy than because he's unfriendly. Merlin watches Solace with large brown eyes as if she's as alien to him as he is to her. Occasionally he looks to Martin, as if waiting for him.
Martin seems to be waiting for Lucas to decide it's all right to proceed.
Lucas has offered refreshments, and waits until they are all comfortably settled before he says, "I have explained the purpose of this examination to Solace, and we do want to go ahead with it. However, if it seems to be hurting her, or unduly distressing her, I shall ask you to stop immediately. Is that acceptable?" His tone is perfectly polite, but also firm.
"Of course," says Merlin, as if he's a touch startled that Lucas has to say so.
"Now," he says to Merlin, "can you explain - in layman's terms - what exactly you are proposing to do?"
"I am going to use the vision of my Third Eye to look at Solace's," and here Merlin uses a word that Lucas doesn't know at all. At Solace's questioning look, Merlin turns to Martin.
"The closest word in Thari I can think of is 'chakras'," Martin says, "but I'm not sure that's quite right. The nerve centers through which energies, including magical energies, flow."
"'Chakras', yes, that is close enough for layman's purposes," Merlin agrees.
Lucas raises one dark eyebrow (a trick he once spent some time mastering. It was a rather dull Shadow ... )
"I will see whether her energy flows are blocked or otherwise changed from what I would expect. If she has had sorcery used on her, I would expect there to be some alteration in them. Before I begin, though, it would help me if you told me exactly what happened, and what the symptoms Lady Solace has been suffering are. Knowing this will assist me in interpreting anything I see."
Lucas glances at his wife. "Perhaps you should begin, Solace," he says quietly.
"I was not there," he explains to Merlin and Martin. "I was in the next room ... and then I heard her cry out ... and fall ... and the children start to cry. So I joined them with due rapidity ... But Solace will be able to render a more exact account."
Solace turns to Martin. "Lucas said he was going to try something. It would be fun, he said, amusing. I thought, well..." and she trails off for a moment and blushes prettily.
Merlin looks confused, and Martin shakes his head. "Never mind, Merle. Go on, Solace." Merlin looks vaguely annoyed for a moment, then suppresses the expression as Solace continues.
Lucas, on the other hand, looks a trifle smug. He reaches across and takes his wife's hand - perhaps for reassurance - perhaps for some other reason and gently caresses the back of her hand within his thumb in a gentle circular motion. It might be some private signal between them.
As she starts to speak again, the thumb stills.
"He was testing a baby alarm. I thought--I thought for a moment I saw Lucas, but then it was like a nightmare. The picture went grey and then went away, and my head hurt so badly! I passed out, and then when I woke up Lucas was there."
Merlin says, "How odd. I do not know of any spell that would have such an effect. Perhaps someone was reaching into your mind, Lady Solace, and plucked the image from it." He looks at Martin to see what Martin thinks of that theory.
Martin responds with a slightly cocked head and a shrug. He holds out a strand of his shaggy hair and says, "Blond. Not red, blond."
Merlin frowns. As he turns back to Lucas and Solace, he smooths his expression. "With your permission, I will now examine Lady Solace."
Solace nods solemnly, although she looks a bit wide-eyed, and looks to Lucas.
Lucas nods as well, gravely. "Of course," he says.
He smiles at Solace reassuringly.
Merlin says, "It would be best if you stood, so I can look at you from many directions."
Solace, always obliging, rises and moves to an open spot in the room. Merlin comes with her. "All I will do is look at you. There should be no pain. If you experience any pain, let me know and I will stop at once."
Merlin begins looking at Solace, examining her closely from different angles, with emphasis on her head and torso.
Martin keeps his seat, dividing his attention between what Merlin is doing and Lucas.
Lucas, however, is watching Merlin, and Solace, with equally close attention.
The examination takes about five minutes. Merlin makes a number of strange faces at Solace, most of which seem to be screwed-up concentrating expressions rather than attempts to scare her or amuse her. Solace bears it all with patient good nature, moving as Merlin occasionally directs. She doesn't complain of any pain while Merlin works.
At the end of it, Merlin steps back. "I am finished," he tells Solace. "You may sit down."
Lucas moves to his wife, drawing her down into her seat at his side, one arm around her. This is the rarely seen Lucas as protective family man; a sight that few are ever able to witness.
The young sorcerer looks at Martin and Lucas. "I see no sign of any sorcerous taint. Lady Solace's channels are unblocked and undamaged. Her chakras are clear. If she has been attacked, it is by something that left no taint whatsoever."
Lucas is silent for a moment, then nods. "Thank you," he says with sincerity to Merlin. "It seems it was as my uncle supposed ... that Solace is still so delicate from Phillippe's birth ... so easily overset." His arm tightens on her for a moment, holding her. Then he smiles at her.
"And, after that, you should rest, ma chere. " He rises to his feet, holding out a slender hand for her. "If you will excuse me one moment, mes braves?"
Martin nods and rises, and Merlin, taking his cue from his kinsman, does likewise.
He escorts Solace to her own room, and leave her to rest on the chaise longue with a kiss on her forehead. "If you wish it, send for Nanny Starch," he tells her. Then he leaves her, and returns to the drawing room.
"So," he says gravely to Merlin, "you believe there is no cause for alarm?
Merlin shakes his head, indicating the negative.
"I wonder, perhaps, if this is some new manifestation of those dreams that shake some of our number nightly ... "
"What dreams?" Martin asks. "I haven't heard anything."
"Various people have been affected by strange dreams," Lucas responds. "Marius was first to be aware of this, and spoke of it to me, Lily and Her Majesty ... "
He gives Martin a brief and succinct account of that meeting, without (in Merlin's presence) going into detail. Martin will presumably recognise this - and can ask Lucas questions if he is prepared to speak openly before Merlin.
Martin does ask quite a few questions, in great detail. Occasionally he glances at Merlin, as if soliciting an expert opinion on some aspect of the situation, but unsurprisingly, he's met with shrugs. There is not, as Lucas recalls, a lot of data.
Lucas' answers are given with precision and clarity. The characteristic drawl is present at times, and he does not refrain from the occasional dry comment, but his response is full and carefully judged.
At the end of it, Merlin says, "The Queen should be examined by a sorcerer. I shall offer my services to the King for this purpose. Do you think she will accept me?"
The last question seems to be addressed to Lucas rather than Martin.
"That has already been accomplished," says Lucas, "by my Aunt Fiona. I am sure the King would accept you ... " A statement that may contain more diplomacy than accuracy. "My Aunt, however, might require somewhat more delicate handling. Were she indeed present. In her absence ... " He gives a faint, very French shrug. "The exigencies of the case, if deemed sufficiently pressing, might encourage the King to make the assay.
Martin doesn't say anything at all about this.
"My advice, should you desire it, is to offer your services, but to be prepared for them to be accepted but not utilised. If any ask, I shall be saying that you have certainly helped my wife and me - for which my thanks.
"You are very welcome, cousin." Merlin replies.
"Perhaps I might express that in a more palpable form with an evening at the Red Mill? If you have no plans for this evening ... " He looks enquiringly at Merlin - and then at Martin. "Violet, I am sure, will be delighted at your return," he adds to the latter.
Merlin looks vaguely panicked, but Martin picks up and recovers for him. "Indeed she is. I had lunch with her. I'm afraid I have plans for the evening, unfortunately, so perhaps another time."
Merlin suppresses his reaction while Martin is speaking. By the time his cousin is finished, he has recovered enough to speak. "With my sister so newly arrived here, I cannot leave her for so long. As Martin says, perhaps another time. But thank you for the offer."
Lucas can tell from Merlin's mannerisms that while the younger man took the offer in the spirit in which it was intended, he has no intention of accepting it.
Lucas receives this response with affable blandness.
"In fact," Merlin says, "I should look in on my sister now. If you will excuse me." And he rises.
"Of course," says Lucas, rising in his turn. "And if, at any point, I can repay this favour ... " He spreads his hand, indicating his willingness.
"It was my pleasure to be of assistance," Merlin replies. "But thank you for the offer."
Martin says, "If you have a moment, Lucas, I've got a quick question for you."
"Mais certainment," agrees Lucas, with the same affability.
At Merlin's inquiring look, he clarifies, "Old business." Merlin takes that as some sort of a signal and relaxes again.
Lucas waits until Merlin has left, escorted from the suite by Gaston, before he speaks again.
"I fear my offer of entertainment went a little awry. What a very upright young man!" He chuckles. "New cousins ... such a glorious opportunity pour epater le bourgeoise. I wonder if his sister is equally shockable ... one does grow rather weary of watching Jovian rise all too predictably to the bait ... a draconic characteristic, one presumes ... "
"Merlin is less bourgeois than so outre he's normal. He's not disturbed by the morality of your offer so much as by the prospect of taking it up," Martin explains. "He is, after all, Chaosian in the half blood."
[Lucas] pours a large brandy and benedictine, then offers it to Martin. If Martin accepts, he will pour a second for himself.
Martin does accept it.
"So," [Lucas] says, re-seating himself. "Old business, eh?" He raises a dark eyebrow. "Just how close in your confidences is our new cousin?"
"In some ways, very close. In others, close enough to know not to ask questions. He worked with me on certain occasions during the late war." An unhappy expression shadows Martin's face for a moment.
Lucas raises one eyebrow, and then gives a slight nod - either in acknowledgement of this association, or as though acknowleging Martin does not speak of certain matters.
"Today's business goes back further than that, though. I was approached today at Red Mill by a Rebman, someone I knew from my youth. That he knew it would be a good place to find me on my return is one thing; that he knew I'd be there today is not. You see my concern, Lucas?"
"Indeed I do," says Lucas. "Did you send word ahead?"
Martin shakes his head in the negative.
"My assumption would be that we still have security at the Red Mill stitched up pretty tight. Which would suggest ... " [Lucas] breaks off, frowning.
"Do you want me to look into this?" he asks abruptly. "Or would you prefer your own people on it?"
Martin says, "I'd rather have you look into it; I'm not sure I'm done with errand-running and trips out of Amber. It's possible the castle is being watched by magic; if that's the case, there's not much we can do. But Valeria did crash the poker night Jerod arranged. After the business with Aisling, I feel a need to be sure. Especially with whatever happened to Solace still unexplained."
"If it was more than constitutional weakness," agrees Lucas. "There's a part of me more than willing to accept that explanation, you know. Nevertheless, I shall be taking precautions with regard not only to my wife, but also to my children.
"But Aisling ... "
[Martin] pushes his hair back from his face and clarifies: "Aisling apparently learned the outlines of the guest list for poker somehow and went to Cambina to do--something, I don't know what. Have Cambina denounce me for the terrible male oppressor I am, I suppose. In any case, Aisling was unhappy at the arbitrariness of not inviting the ladies to a whorehouse. Cambina referred him to Jerod, with whom Aisling had a rather unfruitful discussion. Thence Aisling returned to Cambina, and denied that sex had anything to do with the matter." A roll of the eyes conveys Martin's opinion of that denial."
"Its sense of social mores was always a little tangental," says Lucas, seemingly amused into a better humour by this narrative. "You should have heard its account of how the two of you came to quarrel at the Ball ... I attribute my ability to keep my jaw from hitting the ground to my innate good manners."
"You'll have to tell me about it sometime," Martin says.
[Lucas]
"But really, Jerod should have invited it ... a complete novice - it would
have been someone I could have managed to beat that night, instead of
crawling home eventually with my pockets to let.
"Or perhaps it was present, cunningly disguised as a particularly innocuous chip. How can one tell?"
Martin shrugs helplessly, but Lucas has the sense he's sure Aisling wasn't at the party. He probably would have been more outraged if she had been.
"What interests me about the whole thing is how Aisling found out who, or what class of people, was invited to play poker. Jerod and I discussed it before he left for Rebma; we thought Aisling probably intercepted a page to look at the invitations, but we could be wrong."
"Such an unsubtle method," says Lucas with distaste. "And so liable to be spotted ... It did have other means at its disposal.
"You've heard of Aisling's probable fate?"
Martin nods once, abruptly.
"Far be it from me to wish to alarm you but ...
"Let me present a scenario.
"Aisling is held in durance vile by Caine. The information it holds is so vital that it forces a most dramatic rescue by a denizen of Chaos with no mean power - that must be the case if they were able to beat Caine's defences and rescue Aisling. In the process, Aisling, as we knew it, cannot survive - Caine is clear on that. He is less clear on whether any constituent parts could have - after the Chaosian way - survived.
"The Affine remains here in Amber - a course that I am not overly happy with. The Knights are clinging to their all for one and one for all brand of muscular chivalry - but they do not appear to be watching the Affine. Once a sworn brother, always a sworn brother appears to be their way.
"And yet ... what if some fragment of what I might term Ur-Aisling survives in Amber? What if, resentful of its untimely dissolution, it works against us now, considering itself absolved of all oaths? What if it commands its Affine still? Or what if its Affine has become its host?
"There's one scenario for you. Let's take another. If you were Lady Dara, would you be content if your faction had only one spy in the enemy camp, when we have proved so easily penetrable? I know I wouldn't.
"Rebma itself ... well, your knowledge is inevitably far vaster on the subject than mine. But would you think it possible that - in the face of apparent weakness of Amber - they might look for allies elsewhere?
"You see, what interests me at least as much as the how of your being approached at the Red Mill is the fact that they chose to do something so overt as to let you know that you were under such successful surveillance. Whatever was said to you, that was the message that was given."
He frowns. "Perhaps they want to quantify our response. It wouldn't be the first stone dropped in a pond to see how and where the ripples spread."
"Let's take the scenarios one at a time. First, if Aisling somehow ate her affine, or some remnant of her is controlling it, we can ask Merlin to check it out. I'm surprised the Knights haven't already made that request of him." Martin frowns.
"Well," murmurs Lucas, "good solid fighting chaps. Ours in the jaws of death and all that. Play up, play up and play the game and devil take the hindermost. Cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war. But subtlety? Nuance? Perhaps not.
"One might try a delicate hint. Well, someone might. Coming from me it might be regarded as a not-so silken attack on the jolly old team spirit and derided accordingly.
"On the other hand, in their favour I will point out that Merlin is not long arrived, and they may be waiting for him to have a chance to kick off his boots and stretch out his legs under the table before running to him with a list of chores they'd like him to tackle.
"But my next scenario?"
"Dara ... it takes a lot of effort for Chaosi to make a spy that can survive here. A complex one, suited to spying on its own--well, you've seen Aisling. 'Suited' is a relative term. I can't say it's impossible, but knowing how Dara has to spend her resources elsewhere, I don't think it's likely. Not unless she suddenly gained access to a lot of resources she didn't have the last time I was in Borel." [Martin] frowns again, clearly considering the odds of that.
Lucas says nothing, merely watching him thoughtfully.
"Montage was showing off, you're right. But Moire is like our uncles: she does nothing without calculation. They let me know I was being watched to back up their orders, orders I'm not inclined to take." Martin looks significantly at Lucas. "If you were in Montage's shoes, how would you persuade me to do your bidding, Lucas?"
Lucas purses his lips and then shrugs.
"If I were doing it for myself? You'd never even realise you were doing my bidding at all. You'd believe, with total conviction, that this was the right and proper course of action, and that you were doing it all because it was what you wanted to do all along.
"In Montage's shoes? From what you've said, not very pleasantly. I'd break something that would cost you a pang - and do it in such a way that it was untraceable to me - in such a way that only you and I would know that it had been my hand that moved. And then I'd threaten something you held so dear that you would do anything to safeguard it. You'd kick and scream and fight ... but you would come to heel. And the struggle would be entirely internal. Not a word of it would pass your lips - because that would be an aspect of the thumbscrew I'd set upon you.
"In practical terms ... if I were Montage, I'd kill Violet, and I'd threaten Folly."
He rises, takes Martin's glass and his own, and moves to the sideboard to replenish them.
"You'd better hope that Montage favours my personally preferred method."
Martin remains silent for a moment as Lucas refills their glasses. When Lucas turns back to him, he says, "Montage doesn't have the advantage of a lovely wife who can convince me by way of Folly of what I want to do." He takes the glass from Lucas with a pleasant, if somewhat feral, smile, and raises it in salute.
Lucas's expression, in contrast, is a study in blandness. So might a skilful politician look when he hears a fervent (and wealthy) supporter espouse views that really shouldn't be expressed in polite company.
He lifts his own glass and sips, listening as Martin goes on.
"You're right. Montage is crude. Threats and violence are his first language in these matters. It's one he doesn't think I know how to speak, so he expects me to shut up and listen." Martin shakes his head.
Lucas smiles now. "And you are thinking of proving your multi-lingualism."
"Red Mill is as secure as we can make it, but--anyone can be gotten. If I were in Montage's shoes, I could have it done. I could do it myself." And he scowls.
Lucas nods. It is clearly they have covered this ground before between them.
"The castle, on the other hand, is about as secure as swiss cheese, and that's never going to change. I have other resources to call on to protect Folly, and Folly herself is not without defenses--none of us are, and she's had some small measure of my teaching--but I'd rather it not come to that."
"No-one would," agrees Lucas. "And warning her ... well, it would change the dynamic of her life, which would be a great shame, and not at all to her benefit."
"She'll have to be warned, but--" Martin cuts that thought off and takes a sip of his drink. "Montage had better hope none of his flunkies are ambitious enough to try a hit and frame him. It would be unfortunate for him, particularly since I'd take Bend down first."
He waves his free hand. "But enough of that kind of speculation. It'll be easier on all parties if I convince Montage and his superiors to make a course correction sooner rather than later. Hence my request: I need to know who's feeding him information, and how. I'd rather allude to the possibilities with a quiet legbreaking than have to drive the point home with a homicide."
"Of course," says Lucas. "My first step shall be to gather the information ... although my resources are - as you know - focused in the city rather than the Castle. But ... there are ways." He shrugs. "But if you want to be as thorough as possible, perhaps it is time to awaken our sleeping partner."
"I'm putting all my resources to work on this," Martin says. "While I'll admit the personal implications are my first concern, you see the political issues involved, too. And there are additional complexities to the Rebma situation that have come up this afternoon." He scowls slightly.
Lucas arches a dark eyebrow. While not so vulgar as to ask for elucidation, he takes it as sine qua non that Martin will not ask him to help, and then give him only partial explanations.
He awaits Martin's response for that before he rings a bell to summon Gaston.
The lugubrious manservant appears, and bows in greeting to Prince Martin, before cocking a world-weary eyebrow at his master. "M'sieur?"
"Gaston," says Lucas. "I find I shall shortly be in need of tobacco. I suspect you, Gouter and Cheval have been busy in your convival late night discussions over my best brandy. My stock has been severely depleted - particularly of those foul imitations of Begman blacks that Prudenter is attempting to foist upon an unsuspecting public. You will take a note to him, requiring him to attend me without loss of time, and bringing with him several cartons of the packaged camel dung he tells us is the best he can do until we open some more Shadow paths."
As he speaks, he is scrawling a note, which he folds and seals with a blob of wax and the St Cyr signet. Martin can see the contents - it's nothing more than a cigarette order. Lucas glances up at his cousin.
"Shall I add anything for you?" he asks.
"I'm running low on those Heerat cigars," Martin says. He doesn't seem to be particularly curious about the contents of the note. Perhaps it's the presence of Gaston, or perhaps he believes nothing of consequence should be written in such a note.
[OOC: it will be a couple of hours before Prudenter can arrive, even by fast horse.]
[OOC - Point about the timing noted. I'd say it'd take Lucas a full day to get the necessary information - does that sound about right, or too optimistic?]
[He should have at least preliminary information by then.]
Lucas nods, writes an addendum, then passes the note to Gaston who bows and leaves.
When they are alone, Lucas says, "A co-incidence, is it not, that we should be gifted with a new Rebman cousin at this time? What do you think - a message to you ... to us? A plant? Or just a wholly delightful surprise in case our lives were becoming too staid and dull?"
"She's for real," Martin says. "A plant wouldn't tell such a bizarre story and expect anyone to believe it. She's been played by both sides in a family fight. Llewella's daughter, whom everyone believed dead for the last hundred and fifty years or so, has turned back up. It puts a new complexion on a number of elements in Conner's story of his time in Rebma, broadens the field of suspects in Demond Harga'rel's death, and--Jerod--" Martin shakes his head. "I'd put money on Jerod against almost any of us, except Lilly, but Tritons are pretty damn tough."
Lucas is silent for a while and then says neutrally, "If he keeps his head down, that may not be a problem. However ... Jerod ... one could be looking at him for a long while before one was reminded of a violet by a mossy stone, half-hidden from the eye ... "
He sips reflectively at his drink. "Do you propose to warn him?
"I'd like to, yes. But we only have a sketch of him at the moment, and Merlin needs that to complete a full Trump. He says it'll take a long time before the Trump is ready without Jerod present. Months. And if we use the sketch to call him and warn him, and it fails, we may never get a full Trump done."
Martin scowls for a moment. "And I can't go. If my guesses about what's going on are right, it's a powder keg down there. My going might set it off. I'd have to send someone I trusted with a message."
"That's a remarkably small pool to draw on," says Lucas a little dryly. "Do you want me to do it? My almost total ignorance of Rebman affairs might be something of a hinderance, as would the fact that Jerod is hardly likely to fall on me with cries of joy and delight.
"Alternatively, I could let you have a marvellously discreet man who I trust to deliver a cipher, if that would be of any assistance."
"Thanks," says Martin. "But it needs to be someone Jerod will take the message from, which means one of us. And you can't go. If my guesses are right, there may be a civil war, and Solace would never forgive me if anything happened to you."
Lucas gives a particularly Gallic shrug. "Do not forget my well-developed sense of self-preservation, mon ami." His face darkens, and he adds, a little more softly, "And it would not be my first experience of civil war."
He says no more. Not even to Martin - perhaps not even to Solace - does Lucas talk about his experiences of the French Revolution, the Reign of Terror and the death of his father.
"Then let's ensure you don't have another," Martin says, in a tone that is clearly meant to close that topic.
[Lucas continues]
"And how much information have you shared with our little sea urchin?"
Martin scowls again. "A fair amount, but a lot of it is relevant primarily to the internal Rebman situation. We talked quite a bit about Demond Harga'rel, which she saw primarily from the Rebman perspective. What Valeria would do, you know?"
He looks up at Lucas. "Gerard implied she's very friendly with Ossian."
Lucas nods slowly.
"So I believe," he says.
There is something about his tone that suggests he does not expect this to be an erroneous belief, based merely on gossip.
"Ossian might certainly have ... " He pauses, considering his next words. "A unique angle on the question of what she might do.
"Do you want me to explore that? I was thinking of asking him a favour ... a trump sketch of Solace. It might settle the questions about her."
"Ossian would certainly be more likely to answer you than me. I think he thinks we're rivals for her affections. If so," Martin says with a roll of his blue eyes, "he's mistaken. Valeria only wants to put a noose around my neck. If he wants her, he can have her, as far as I'm concerned."
Lucas frowns slightly, but says nothing.
[Martin] hesitates for a moment, then says, "It probably is a good idea for us to find about Solace. I've been--told--it's a bad idea for us to inbreed. I don't know if it's true, and I'm skeptical so far, but ..." he shrugs. "It's not like you would ask her to bear another child anyway."
Lucas regards him sourly. "Oh ... now they tell us. And yes, you're right - Solace is too delicate to bear any more children for the forseeable future ... But it's rather late in the day to announce that it's to be avoided. Solace - until we can find out - is a doubtful case. But Paige must be about ready to whelp - if, indeed, she hasn't found a fast Shadow where she can do so already ... I imagine Bleys will be only too delighted to curtail her screams of baffled rage when she steps on the scales each day.
"But yes, it's time to end the uncertainty - although the pool of those who know one way or another is going to be very small. Ossian ... and you - and Solace and me. Your father if you believe that wise. No-one else.
"And I intend, if it does prove the truth, to hug my knowledge of Harmony Vesper's infidelity as close as a child might hug a favourite teddy bear..."
"You're a better man than I am, cousin. I'm not sure I could keep from gloating a little in your shoes," Martin says.
"We'll need to tell my father, based on what I've heard, more because it's unwise for him not to know than because it's wise to tell him. I'd love to be a fly on the wall when you talk to him about it, but I'm dodging the subject, since I suspect it will turn into a discussion of my marriage prospects. And that is a topic I have no intention of discussing with my father just now." He scowls. "Not that I think he would encourage me to accept the one offer I've had so far. We have enough Rebman influence in the castle as it is."
Lucas' eyebrows lift slightly, but he merely says, "I think I shall wait the outcome of Ossian's trial before running to your father. 'Please, Sire, I think my wife might be an Amberite' sounds a little lame, if not vainglorious."
"Less than you think. The first thing Dad said when I told him about you and Solace was that her mother was, ah, romantically linked to Eric." Martin grins. "He asked how Jerod and Cambina got along with her. Maybe you should ask Cambina what she thinks about the possibility. She would have been in Amber then."
"In the mean-time ... I'll let you know as soon as I hear any more."
Martin takes that as a dismissal, and rises, offering his hand to Lucas. "Thanks, Lucas. I knew I could count on you. Let me know how much the cigars are, and I'll have Gilt take care of it. I've got to get a secretary of my own to handle these things."
Some time after Martin has left Lucas' suite, Prudenter arrives. He presents himself and several boxes of cigar and cigarettes to Lucas with appropriate deference. The cigarettes and cigars are the best he has to offer to My Lord.
Gaston, of course, handles the filthy lucre end of the transaction, and goes to put away the purchases and arrange to have Martin's share sent to him.
And what else might Monseigneur want of Prudenter?
Monseigneur is saddened, yes saddened to have to tell Prudenter that all is not as he would expect with the security of the castle. It appears that there has been infiltration within the Castle itself - and it is believed to be agents of Rebma. Monseigneur expects such a grave lapse in security to be investigated forwith and a full report - including names - to be delivered (along with a box of the King's favourite cigarettes) within twenty-four hours.
Prudenter is very sorry to hear of the lapse and will undertake to discover who the perpetrators are through the channels Monseigneur has for such matters at once. He will return tomorrow afternoon with as much information as possible--and the cigarettes.
When Monseigneur dismisses him, Prudenter is on his way.
Last modified: 23 September 2004