On the morning the day after Random came back: Ossian asks Merlin if the Jerod sketch for the Trump Booth is finished.
Merlin has a sketch, but he wants to duplicate it before installing it into the Trump booth. He is going to make some full Jerod trumps, and he needs a sketch as a model. If it comes out that Ossian is leaving, he will offer to see the sketch installed.
Ossian thinks for a moment. "I was thinking of calling him. He needs to know what the king has done, and what will happen to Amber. But I don't want to risk breaking your sketch by using it before you have made a copy.
"I will be leaving in a few days. Could you call him and tell about the new Pattern when you are finished with the copy?" Ossian hesitates, then gives Merlin another Trump of Ossian. "Heck. Give him this and tell him I would like to talk to him."
"I will do that," Merlin says. "Good luck on your journey. I must stay with my sister for now, but perhaps later I will be able to join you."
"Just call me." Ossian says "And thanks for helping me. Jerod will probably appreciate being called by you and not by me, also."
"You are welcome, cousin."
Sometime before noon after the family breakfast Ossian sends the following note to Random.
To King Random of Amber,
This is my honest opinion:
If Amber falls by slow decay, by the failing of the trade routes and the slow departure of all thrifty people, the nation of Amber will die. You will get a nation without a history, a nation where money is much more important than art, stories and music.If instead Amber falls by some dramatic events, and the people are evacuated to a new land of promise, Xanadu, it strengthens the nation. A large defeat glues the people together and enrichens their traditions.
I would like to discuss these matters with you, at any time you suggest. You should note that I personally want no part in killing the nation of Amber.
Your sincerely,
OssianPS. Of course, you might want to build your new nation from the ground. Then I think it would be better not to involve the people of Amber at all, or just hand pick the few that you want.
Enclosed with the note is a sketch of the City of Amber seen from the sea. Kolvir has turned into an erupting volcano. One can see the ruins of the castle up on the mountainside. A few small figures hurries towards the last ship in the harbour.
A page arrives at Ossian's quarters, the same one who took the note to the king. The lad bows and says "His majesty wishes to see you, Lord Ossian." He is young, but seems confident.
Ossian grins and rises from his chair //At least it seemed to get Random's attention.// "Good. What is your name, lad?"
"It's Pommel, Lord Ossian."
"You managed to get the king's attention faster than most royals would do. I will remember that." Ossian says with a smile. "How long have you been working here?"
"Two and a half weeks, Lord Ossian." He manages not to let his voice squeak at the end.
"Not more? You certainly seem to know your work. Say, who are your parents?"
"My uncle got me this job. My dad's dead." He seems somewhat more subdued.
"Oh. I'm sorry to hear that." Ossian says sounding genuinely sorry. "Your uncle seems to have judged you well. I think I would like to talk to him. Where can I find him?"
"In a brothel or a tavern, spending his army pay, my Lord."
Random is alone in his study, his desk has a number of papers on it. Random is sitting in a comfortable chair near the window, looking at another stack of papers. He gestures Ossian towards the facing chair. Random puts down the stack and looks at Ossian for a long moment. He puts his elbow on the armrest of the chair and his chin in his hand.
"I got your note. And the drawing. Tell me more about what you think needs to be done and why."
Ossian takes a deep breath, and starts: "In my opinion Amber is much more than the sum of her citizens. It is a tradition, a state of mind of the citizens, a rich ongoing story. Call it history if you want, although I believe that's not exactly the right name for it. Whatever you call it, it would take a thousand years or so to build it from the scratch."
"Now, if we let thrifty individuals leave Amber to build up new promised land, Xanadu will be built by the people who are willing to scrap that whole storyline--those are the one who will leave first. When the others come trickling later the new non-culture will already be there and they will be absorbed. Sure the old ones will remember Amber, but the memory will be lost in a few generations. That would be the true fall of Amber."
"I believe we need to move to Xanadu in a more distinct way, something that will be a part of the story of Amber. And we both know that just giving people the order to move won't be a good idea. We need to make the move feel urgent and run it like an evacuation. Then Xanadu will be a new chapter, not a new novel."
"That's where the volcano comes in. As I wrote that probably isn't practical, but some kind of natural catastrophe would be best. Maybe we could make a series of really severe storms?" Ossian takes another deep breath and waits for the king to respond.
"Wouldn't you expect many people to die in the catastrophe? Or get lost or have their lives and livelihoods destroyed in the turmoil? Is it fair to inflict suffering on them for the good of future generations?"
"Livelihoods will be detroyed in large number regardless of how we make the move. And we are losing people as it is already. What has happened to their lives?"
Random shrugs, then changes the subject.
"Some of our kin are or have been Gods in various places. Bleys, Brand, Corwin. Gerard and Julian. Fi's daughter and Julian's son. You're setting up a question of godding here. If a thousand years of less-than-perfect culture can be purchased at the cost of the suffering of this generation, is it right and proper to inflict it?" Random pulls out a cigarette case. "If you had that power, how would you make that decision?" He opens the case and offers Ossian a cigarette.
Ossian hesitantly accepts the cigarette.
Random lights his and offers Ossian the match.
Ossian takes the match with a smile and lights his own cigarette.
"That question is very hypothetical and full of pittraps." he says, tilting his head to the left. "But I believe in this case I would use the power. The suffering I think I would need to inflict would be worth it. In fact the suffering would be far less than the silent agony in the souls of these people seeing their culture just fade away.
"And you have a good opportunity to guide the less than perfect culture into something that suits you better. It's not like it's going to be unchanged by the move."
"See, I can't see myself making that choice for culture, but I can see it if I had to do something to save lives. Maybe in two or three generations, it may be worth evacuating the city to prevent her fall to moonriders or a stray volcano, but I think it's too soon to do it.
"So, assuming we have no stick, or in this case volcano, so let's consider carrots. What can we do here and there to encourage the right people and culture to make the move?"
"You put me in an interesting situation. I have sworn to 'aid Amber with all my deeds'. With my view of what Amber is I might not want to answer your question." Ossian says, but continues:
"Still. I don't think culture is possible without history. Even some suffering might actually be needed."
"Hm. A suggestion. As soon as your city has started to grow; build a public library. Hire artisans to decorate the interior. Try to make it fancy for the wealthy to support it financially. Fill it with good books. Then organise one hell of a festival at its opening. At all stages invite the proper artists."
"Hmm. I'll keep that in mind."
Random changes the subject. "Ossian," he begins, "there are three things you should realize about Feudal Oaths, such as the one you brought up.
"One, they're personal transactions, between lord and vassal. The concept of an oath to an abstraction like 'a country' is foreign to Amber. You've only got three options to get out of it. You can show that I'm failing my side of the oath, you can show that there is a candidate with a better claim on your oath, or you can foment rebellion and get yourself crowned, which is really a special case of option 'B'. But you're not gonna sell an oath to 'Amber' to anyone from 'Amber'. They won't get it.
"Two, oaths are symbolic in a feudal culture of an informally but rigidly defined relationship that may shift over genertions. You may find that the only reaction to you having taken amusing liberties with the oath of allegiance is disapproval, and not just from the queen. People will expect you to live up to the oath they expected you to swear.
"Three, power comes from the barrel of a gun, as they say in gun-using shadows. The normal place to be a defiant royal relative is usually in a distant barony where the King won't bother enforcing his will. That's why my brothers and I spent so much time in shadow during my father's reign. And the power issue is why we came back and followed orders when he sent us to war.
"If I were old and crotchety, I'd say your generation has a lot to learn about what it means to have a King to answer to. Luckily, I'm young, optimistic, and a nice guy. As well as stunningly handsome and talented. And humble. Where was I? Oh, yeah. That's all. You may go."
The expression on Ossian's face is hard to interpret; he obviously both likes and dislikes what he just heard. His voice and stature is somewhat stiff when he answers:
"Another thing. The Trump chamber is as finished as I can make it for now. Paige and Merlin have promised to deliver some of the missing pieces and Robin and Daeon are not availible for sketches right now."
Random nods once, slowly.
"With your permission I will leave Amber for a while, despite my curiousity of your Xanadu project. You have my Trump." Ossian bows, preparing to leave.
"Ossian," he says, neither givng nor withholding permission. "No one can hold a pattern initiate who truly wishes to depart from a place, and so I of course give you permission since to do otherwise would be to invite scofflawry." His cigarette burns slowly between his fingers as he speaks. "However, Amber and I have enemies of the sort that could kidnap Brita and who might have the power and inclination to suck her brains out through a straw. Pick someone you like and take their trump and have a regular planned contact with them, so that my esteemed brother does not begin to worry that you have been leaking state secrets all over Chaos. Also, stay on this side of the tree. Oh, and have a good trip."
Random waves him off and puts the cigarette to his lips, taking a series of small puffs.
Ossian smiles a little, and leaves.
Hannah finds herself on a grassy lawn with Misae and a rather handsome man in dark green who's holding Misae's reins in his other hand. His attention is somewhere else. "All right, Fi, I have her. Let me know when you're ready to come home. And give the old man my regards."
And then his attention is fully on Hannah. He releases her hand and says, "I'm Caine. You're Hannah, and I understand you're one of my many young relations. Let's get you inside and cleaned up, and then we'll see what you need to do next. My sister the Princess Fiona didn't tell me much about your background. Where are you from?" Hannah gets the impression that he's used to being able to charm people.
She smiles at him, unable to stop the color rising into her cheeks at her appearance. "I'll say Omaha (which she pronounces in short syllables O-ma-ha and not Oh-mah-haw), but the answer has gotten more complicated than that, just recently."
Hannah takes Misae's lead, prepared to follow Caine. "Are you a Prince?"
He nods. "It runs in the family, I'm afraid. We try to suppress it and be judged on our character and actions, but blood will tell. Tell me about Omaha and complications."
"Omaha is where I was born, and where I live now. Then 'today' I was led to tend an injured... animal, by a Unicorn. I thought perhaps this was only a spiritual journey, yet events since have proven to me it's physical. Your... niece," Hannah guesses, "Brita thinks I am related to you in some fashion, as does your grandfather. That's what makes it complicated."
She grins, and shrugs slightly. She doesn't seem too weighed down by the complication. "I am here, though, to examine your little brother, on the Princess Fiona's request. I'm a doctor," she assures him firmly, having run up against disbelief often enough, and current appearances being what they are.
"My little brother needs a psychiatrist, not a medical doctor. Or perhaps a bartender. My younger brother may or may not need a medical doctor. He had his legs and pelvis crushed 5 years ago by several tons of falling rock. It generally looks beyond medical treatment. Can you describe what you'll look for in an examination and what course of treatments you've tentatively considered based on my description?" By the end, Caine sounds rather like the president of the State Medical Examining Board.
Hannah squints at him, Misae's lead in one hand, two griffon feathers in the other, and then smiles the professional smile. She goes through, in the medical terms she expects him to understand based on his questions, the examination steps she expects to take as a starting point, and about three alternative treatments. In the end though, her point is that every exam is different, and it's pointless to speculate on treatment.
Caine follows the discussion with ease, although some of the terminology she uses is different from that he knows. Once they match vocabulary, he has no problem. As they talk, he leads her towards the outbuildings of the nearby--town? Hannah's not quite sure what that thing is.
Hannah does not try to garner information or opinions from him - she's perfectly content to form her own without his help. She will listen to what he has to say and keep it in mind, but she trusts her own judgement above all others.
"I won't make it worse. I will avoid needless suffering, physical and spiritual. I won't give him false hope. If it comes to there being none, I know a thing or two about the spirit, too. For a bartender, you'll have to find someone else for that position. As his physician, I'd severely recommend he avoid such depressing libations - such injuries usually weaken the strength of the blood, and drinks containing alcohol only worsen a body's ability to avoid illness."
Caine smiles, but doesn't add anything there.
"How has he been getting around?" she asks.
"He has a wheelchair. We've retrofitted large portions of the castle with ramps. He's strong enough that he can walk the chair up the stairs if he needs to, but we'd rather he didn't have to."
They're coming close to one set of outbuildings now, stables from the look and smell of them.
Hannah, being good at ignoring smells she doesn't like, does just that. She looks very pleased at Caine's answer. "Well, that's wonderful. Excellent, in fact. Does he still... work?" she asks, wondering if princes work at all to begin with.
Caine nods absently. "He ran the city for the last five years or so, during the war. Some of your cousins helped, I hear, but yes, he worked."
Misae whinnies and Caine turns slightly towards the stables. Not far inside the entrance Hannah sees a man on horseback, dressed in a workman's heavy trousers and a checkered shirt, which is unbuttoned and untuckd and shows his undershirt. Near him is a stablehand, taking instructions.
Caine calls out. "Martin! Come meet your new cousin!"
Garrett starts to get back to work with Celina's mare after Lucas' departure, but soon enough his father is calling him again. When he comes out to see what Donovan wants, his brother is waiting there for him.
"I'm riding out. Well, just into town," Martin says. "I have to be back after lunch, so give me a horse that can make good time."
"Yes, Your Highness," Garrett responds with a bow. He walks quickly into the nearest stable, thinking about which horse to give the Prince. A fast horse, yes, but one that won't be missed too much if he doesn't bring it back. He decides on Bolt, a muscular gray gelding with some Arabian blood.
As he readies the horse for the Prince, he thinks about all the other ones that disappeared when they were sent off with Martin. If it were anyone else, even His Majesty, Garrett might joke with him about it. But not with Martin.
Garrett never knows how to take Prince Martin. He can be surly as all get-out for days, but just when you think he's about to take your head off, he's friendly and asking how things are going. Garrett always feels off-balance around him. Knowing now that Martin is his brother just makes it worse. The card tricks this morning did not help, either.
Garrett brings the horse, saddled and ready, out of the stable. There's that off-balance feeling again. Polite and professional, Garrett tells himself. Deal with it. "I chose Bolt for you, Your Highness," says Garrett, bravely looking Martin in the eye. "He should suit your needs perfectly." He hands the reins to Martin.
"Thank you," says Martin. He lets Bolt get a good whiff of him, stroking the horse's nose. "Garrett, two things."
"Yes, Your Highness?" says Garrett with an inquiring look.
"First, about Sprite. If Sprite needs anything more than Folly's attention--special food, medicine, extra workouts, whatever--see that it's done. If there's any hassle about it, tell them I ordered it, and if they keep questioning it, send them to me. And if there's anything we're short of that you need for Sprite, particularly if it's hard to get, you send me a note."
A small smile quirks the corners of Garrett's lips as he mentally puts this request together with the way Martin was looking at Folly earlier. Garrett is happy for them both. "Yes, Your Highness," is all he says, though.
Martin pauses. "You can write, right?"
"Yes, I can, Your Highness," Garrett nods. "And don't worry. I'm almost sure it's nothing a quick ride with Lady Folly won't cure. What's the second thing?"
"About my kinswoman, the Lady Celina. Do you know what a Lady of the Royal Bedchamber is? What that title means in Rebma?" Martin mounts Bolt as he's speaking, sliding a relatively long booted leg over the horse's back and settling in the saddle.
At the mention of Celina's name, Garrett bites his lip and looks at the ground. He knows what this is about. "No, Your Highness. I do not," he says softly, waiting for the reprimand.
"In the ancient of days, during the war in which my great-grandmother bound the Tritons to her service, it is said that an assassin from the Tritons came and attacked her in the shape of another. Afterwards, and for many years, only her most trusted advisers were allowed to wear weapons in her presence, or enter her bedchamber. Those are the Ladies of the Royal Bedchamber," Martin explains.
"Celina seems reasonable and forgiving, but there's at least one other Lady of the Royal Bedchamber in Amber right now who may not be. Try not to cause a diplomatic incident, ok, Garrett?" He looks down at the youth from his perch on Bolt's back.
Garrett looks up at Martin with just his eyes, head still bowed. When Martin finishes, Garrett raises his head, his expression serious and nods once, abruptly. [Sorry - couldn't resist. It fit.] "I apologize, Your Highness. It won't happen again. Do you wish me to send a note of apology to Lady Celina as well?" he asks sincerely.
"No," Martin says, "I'd rather not bring attention to it. I'll be speaking with her this afternoon when I come back, and if it comes up, I'll let you know." He suddenly seems a touch distracted, as if he's thinking about something, and opens his mouth to speak when Caine comes around the corner with a woman and a horse in tow.
The woman smiles with some great relief up at Caine, and then turns to look at the young men. The smile changes to something happier as she takes in their clothes. She stands about five and a half feet tall, and her black hair is unbound. It's thick, straight, and falls to the middle of her back, with a few pieces disrupting the beaded design aroung the neck of her dress. The dress is dearskin, with fringes hanging off her shoulders, and comes down to just below her knees, where it's met by pants of the same make. Thicker moccasins are on her feet, with beadwork on them that puts the rest to shame.
The modesty of the dress is somewhat thrown off by the bloodstains on the inside of her right knee, and all the way up the outside of her right thigh. In her left hand she holds two purple feathers [I think he's purple, or am I thinking of buckbeak?] and leads the horse with her right.
Her mare is a black and brown painted mustang, on nothing more than the simplist (and somewhat shortened) of rope leads.
Caine calls out. "Martin! Come meet your new cousin!"
Garrett's eyes widen in surprise.
Hannah shoots a surprised look at Caine, and then turns a welcoming smile on the young men, wondering which is Martin. She hands off Misae to Caine, if he'll take her.
Garrett moves toward Caine. "I'll take her, Your Highness," he offers. He flashes a reassuring smile at the horse's owner. By the look of his clothes and the wear patterns on his boots, Hannah can guess the lad has a lot of experience with horses. He glances over at Bolt, to be sure the horse will be okay on his own for the time it takes to make friends with the mare.
Bolt seems fine. Caine passes Misae's lead to Garrett and lets the youth befriend her, or whatever grooms do.
That's what grooms do. Garrett takes Misae's lead and speaks to her in a casual and friendly tone, stroking her neck, telling her how pretty she is and how much she's going to like it here. If she shows any signs of nervousness over the griffon encounter, he will make an extra effort to make her feel safe.
For a horse who's been around a horse-eating carnivore, Misae is remarkably friendly.
Martin turns to look at the newcomers before sliding off the horse on the side nearer to Hannah. He strides over, leaving Bolt with Garrett, and, if Hannah permits, takes her hand and bows over it.
She does allow, and manages a short curtsy, ignoring the awkwardness of doing it yet again in these clothes.
"Martin fitzRandom, at your service," he says, and waits for either Hannah or Caine to complete the introduction.
Garrett's eyebrows raise slightly. FitzRandom? Gods, I hope I don't have to change me name, he thinks.
[OOC: It's the first time Garrett's ever heard Martin use a surname.]
"Hannah LeCorbeau," she grins. She glances back at Caine, but turns to Martin to ask, "Is the family large?"
"My father has a half-dozen living brothers and a smattering of sisters. Among them they have a score or so of children. Do we know how you're reckoned among them yet?" Martin asks pleasantly enough, but Hannah has the sense that there's some jockeying going on between Martin and Caine.
Hannah shakes her head. "Not yet. I'll admit to some curiosity on the subject." She smiles and tilts her head to study him.
He seems young enough; Hannah would guess he's past the very first boyish flush of youth, and has had enough experience of responsibility to let its feel settle on his shoulders. His eyes are older than that, though--but not as old as Caine's.
Something about the way Martin carries himself suggests an old, imperfectly healed injury to her. Probably a gut wound.
She looks between Martin and Caine again. "So... Brita is Fiona's daughter. You and Brita are Mr. Dworkin's great-grandchildren, and you," she grins at Caine, "his grandson? Do I have that all right so far?"
Mr. Dworkin? Garrett's eyes narrow and he listens more intently, though trying not to look like he's listening. Garrett has never heard the ancestry go back any farther than King Oberon.
"I could really use an ancestral study. Do you keep things like that?"
Garrett is interested in the answer to that one as well.
"I believe Cambina keeps those records, doesn't she, Martin?" Caine asks.
Martin nods once, abruptly, at Hannah. His words, however, are clearly addressed to Caine. "When you've let our kinswoman refresh herself and introduced her to my father, perhaps you can arrange an introduction." The order is politely phrased, but it's an order nevertheless.
Hannah's eyebrows take on their curious slant.
Garrett can see Caine smirk slightly. "Of course."
To Hannah, Martin says, "I've never had the privilege of meeting Dworkin. I hope that we'll have a chance to discuss it soon. But I don't want to delay you when you've obviously travelled hard to get here and I'm sure you'd like nothing better than to change and rest."
"I'd love to change, but sitting around is rest enough, whenever you find time to come talk," Hannah offers.
"It has been a pleasure to make your aquaintance, but now I must meet this young man who," she guesses, "will have the care of Misae. She's... a special beast," Hannah grins, and turns enough to get Garrett into her line of sight.
"Of course," Martin says, and moves back toward his own mount.
"She is indeed, m'lady. I've never seen her like 'round here," Garrett responds, stroking the mare's cheek. "The name's Garrett, ma'am," he says with a bow. "I'm a groom here in the stables. If ...Misae, is it?...needs anything, I'll take care of it."
Garrett is short, about 5' 6", tanned and wiry from years of outdoor work. His collar-length dark brown hair tends to fall into his eyes, which are a bright blue. He is young, Hannah would guess in his late teens, and his face indicates that he smiles more than he frowns. His clothing is appropriate for his job - a loose, white shirt that is obviously homemade, worn brown trousers and brown leather boots that, while beat-up, look very comfortable.
Sensing Hannah's connection to the animal, Garrett says politely, "If you wish, I can show you around the stables so you'll be comfortable with her surroundings."
He turns to Caine and Martin, "Your Highnesses, if Lady Hannah would like to look around, I'd be happy to walk her up to the castle when she is finished, if the two of you have other business," he offers.
Caine, who has been watching Hannah's interest in the horses, says, "If that's agreeable to Lady Hannah."
Martin, meanwhile, is mounting back up.
Hannah nods. "I won't relax if I don't see her settled. Thank you, your highness" she says to Caine.
"You're welcome," Caine says, and adds to Garrett, "Show the lady up to my office when you're done."
"Yes, Your Highness," answers Garrett.
Then [Caine] turns and is off to the castle, with a jaunty wave to Martin as sort of an afterthought.
Martin, from his perch atop Bolt's back, watches Caine go. If Garrett weren't preternaturally conscious of his brother's behavior, he'd miss the single word Martin says under his breath.
"Asshole."
Then he smiles at Hannah, and says, "I look forward to speaking with you later today, cousin Hannah. Until then."
Hannah nods to Martin with a parting smile.
He turns Bolt and heads out of the castle grounds.
Hannah turns back to Garrett. "She'll answer to Missy, too. She's a mustang. Her family of horse is... endangered where I come from, and she's been given into my keeping. I have to keep her safe. Some people would consider it a sacred honor, so I can not take it lightly. She has had a trial, but she endures them well usually."
"She'll be quite safe here, m'lady," Garrett says confidently as he leads Misae and Hannah toward the main stable. "The horsemasters here don't put up with any nonsense and all the grooms take their jobs seriously. Fooling around near the horses gets people - and horses - hurt, so it don't happen." If Hannah shows any indication of wanting to take back Misae's lead, Garrett surrenders it, but if not, he continues to make friends with the mare.
Hannah lets him lead the horse.
Hannah looks at her horse and starts tapping the feathers against her right wrist quite rhythmically.
Garrett watches Hannah's tapping with interest, but servant manners keep him from asking about it. Hannah is obviously one of those cousins from "Far From Here" and he's already been warned about causing diplomatic incidents. Remember, polite and professional.
"What sort of trial did Misae experience, m'lady?" asks Garrett. "She seems quite calm now."
"Well," she smiles, and meets Garrett's eyes. "There was a unicorn, some unusual travel, and a gryffon. A very hungry looking beast. He was very pretty though," Hannah confides and holds up the two purple feathers.
The right side of her smile crooks up. "And once I get settled and can string one of these for her properly, Misae will get a reward for her bravery."
"Whoa! A unicorn and a gryffon?" Garrett exclaims with admiration as he looks from the feathers to the mare. "I'm impressed, love," he says to Misae.
Hannah looks at him, and then realizes he's talking to the horse. She laughs. "She's a brave soul."
He then looks at Hannah and his expression changes to that of someone who has found a new piece of a complex puzzle and is turning it around trying to make it fit. Surprisingly, he asks about the least spectacular part of the story. "Unusual travel, eh? Unusual how?"
Hannah studies Garrett for a moment, and then nods. "I sometimes walk in the spirit world. I have never taken her with me before. This was like leaving the natural realm for a spiritual one, only it was physical, and she came through it. The unicorn led us."
Hannah smiles slowly. "Do you believe me?"
Garrett returns the smile. "Yeah, I do." Something about Hannah's demeanor makes Garrett feel comfortable, even though she's apparently one of the royals. She just doesn't have that royal...attitude. "I prob'ly wouldn't, except I've seen a few strange things meself this morning. A coupla horses came in by rather...unusual means. When I groomed them, I saw they'd picked up stuff from all over - things you don't even see 'round here - but they just didn't look like they'd been out that long. They weren't sweated or anything."
He suddenly remembers he's talking to a member of The Family and becomes more reserved. "I hope you don't mind that I asked, m'lady, but that's why. I wondered if you and Misae had experienced a similar journey."
Hannah nods. "You can ask me anything you want, Garrett. I tend to only stand on ceremony when I'm performing one. But let me ask you something."
She leans closer to him and whispers, "How many Princesses and Princes are up here, and what is this King like?"
Garrett grins, "M'lady, the full story on that could take all day! A lot of them aren't here now anyway, so I'll try to shorten it." Thank goodness for Orison Dove, thinks Garrett. He just read that part of the book yesterday.
"King Oberon had many children, but I'll tell you the ones I remember. Prince Benedict is the oldest. He's the High Commander, or some such title. Anyway, he runs the military. He's not here now."
Hannah nods.
"Prince Eric, he took over as king when King Oberon disappeared. He died in battle about six years back. He had a son, Prince Jerod, and a daughter, Lady Cambina. She's the one Prince Caine mentioned. She's here, but I don't think Prince Jerod is back yet."
Garrett thinks, ticking off his fingers as he goes. "Let's see, then there's Prince Corwin. He came for the Coronation, but left afterwards. Prince Caine, you met. Princess Deirdre died in the Battle of the Abyss. Prince Bleys and Princess Fiona were also here for the Coronation and left afterwards. Rumor has it that Prince Brand had something to do with starting the war, but he's dead now, too. There's one princess from Rebma, I forget her name...starts with an "L"... anyway, she came for the Coronation and left. Then there's Princess Florimel - pretty lady - she's still here. Prince Julian is patrolling in Arden and Prince Gerard, poor man, is in a wheelchair up at the castle."
Hannah opens her mouth and quickly snaps it back shut. She bites her lip.
"So I reckon that makes..." he counts fingers, "four here right now...no, five, I forgot Prince Martin, who is King Random's son. He's the one you just met. There's also a whole bunch of King Oberon's grandchildren, but that just gets way too complicated," Garrett laughs wryly, shaking his head.
"I can imagine," she smiles.
"Now King Random, that's another story. He's actually the youngest of King Oberon's sons. How he got to be King, I'm not entirely sure, but I think it had something to do with a Unicorn. I wonder if it was the same one you saw," Garrett muses.
Hannah looks surprised.
"Anyway, I met him a few times both before and after he became King. He seems like a decent man. Not real kingly, though. He's got a wicked sense of humor," Garrett grins. "I reckon the kingly part will come later, since he's only had the job a month or so, but it'd be a shame to see him turn too stuffy."
"Yes, that would be too bad. A king needs to be able to understand his people. Thank you, that really helps." She leans in and whispers to him again. "I'm not fond of having no idea what's happening around me. A few 'whos' will make a big difference, I suspect."
"I'm sure it will," agrees Garrett.
As he speaks, he leads them around the main stable to a small door on the side of it. "This is the office. I'll have to check to see what stalls are available. I'll introduce you to the horsemaster on duty, if you like."
"And here I thought that was you. Is this man as good as you are?" she grins.
"Better," answers Garrett, with admiration in his voice. "He taught me everything I know." He ties Misae's lead to a nearby hitching post, then opens the door and holds it for Hannah.
Hannah steps through the door to meet his paragon of horse knowledge with a curious smile on her face.
Donovan is making notes in the accounts book when Garrett and Hannah come in. He starts to say something, but Hannah's presence may have forestalled the original question. What he says is, "Garrett," in a tone that crosses greeting with a question. He smiles and nods at the lady.
Garrett makes the introductions. "Lady Hannah, this is Donovan Bailey, the morning horsemaster. He's the one you talk to if you catch any of the rest of us slacking." Despite the jest, Donovan would recognize the more formal tone Garrett uses for stable, as opposed to personal, business. "Horsemaster Bailey, this is Lady Hannah, a new member of The Family. She just arrived with Prince Caine."
Donovan offers her a bow. It's not courtly, more of a neck bow, but a definite sign of respect.
Leaving Hannah's side, Garrett says, "I'm just gonna check the board to see what's available." Garrett walks toward an open door on the other side of the office, which Hannah can see leads into the stable itself. As he passes Donovan, he says in an aside, but loud enough for Hannah to hear, "You gotta see her horse. She's gorgeous!"
Hannah smiles after him with an indulgent grin she saves for charming young men and small children. She offers her hand to the horsemaster. "She's a painted mustang. It's a pleasure to meet you sir. Your stables seem clean."
Then she remembers that she's got blood on her and blushes.
"We try to keep them that way, Lady," Donovan says, taking her hand in a firm clasp. If he's taken notice of her bloody clothes, he's either too polite to say or he's used to a lot of strangeness from Family.
"My mare... she's considered sacred by some cousins of mine. If anything goes wrong with her, I need to know immediately. I don't know if she was able to find anything to eat recently, so I'd rather be overcautious and have her fed. Can you do that?" Hannah does look worried, now that she starts thinking about this.
"Yes, Lady Hannah. We'll take very good care of her. Does she have any special requirements?" Donovan asks.
Hannah smiles at him. "Actually, no. Just water and oats will do her fine. In a pinch, she can roam and find something herself. She could probably use a good rub, and I'd do that myself, but Prince Caine is expecting me, it seems." The smile turns a little crooked.
"Garrett will rub her down himself. He takes care of many of the Princes' horses, and some of them are very demanding." Donovan seems like he might like to add more, but feels it's not his place to speak to her.
Hannah nods. "Well, thank you. I appreciate it."
"You're welcome, Lady."
Garrett re-enters the room just in time to hear his chore list getting longer. He smiles a wry, lop-sided smile and waits out the exchange. When they are finished, he crosses to the outer door and opens it for Hannah, saying, "You'll have your choice of a couple of stalls in the main stable. I'll take you around." As he follows her out, Garrett turns to Donovan and nods a farewell. "Horsemaster..." he says, mostly with respect, but Donovan will certainly catch the smart-ass twinkle in his eye as he closes the door.
Garrett unties Misae and leads them around the corner of the long stable building to a set of double doors on the end. Before they enter, Garrett stops and points out the other buildings in the stable area - the carriage house, the draft and stock horse barns, the tack building and the forage sheds. He also describes the series of paddocks, corrals and grazing fields that are along the perimeter of the bailey, out of sight beyond the buildings.
When they enter the building through the open double doors, Hannah sees the most opulent stable she's ever seen. This is no county fair horse barn. [For viewer reference, it's an Amberized version of the Royal Mews of Buckingham Palace.] The stone walls and arched support timbers are all whitewashed and spotless. The walls at the level of the stalls are tiled. The partitions between the stalls are made of dark varnished wood topped with white latticework and brass trimming. Arched windows let in the light above the lines of stalls, giving the building an airy feel. The aisles are wide, with lovely brass-trimmed glass oil lanterns hanging from the ceiling at regular intervals. And it's clean. The place doesn't even smell like a stable, at least not much.
Garrett pauses to let Hannah take it all in, then says, "I have one stall near the center and one two down from the door. Which would you prefer?"
Hannah looks impressed. She tries not to look too impressed. "I think the center is fine. What do you say, Missy?"
Hannah looks at Misae. Misae returns a long look. Hannah grins. "A stall is a stall. I think someone just wants her spoiling. I know what you feel like, Miss."
"She has had a busy morning," Garrett agrees.
When her eyes return to Garrett, her grin is a little naughy, but she doesn't say what she's thinking. Instead she says, "Yup, the middle center one will do fine. Thanks."
"Center it is, m'lady," he says. Garrett leads the horse to a stall and opens the wooden door. The stall is about average size, but very clean. The aroma of fresh wood shavings wafts up as Misae steps in. Garrett takes off her lead and ruffles her fur underneath it. "We'll give you a good rubdown after you've had a snack," he promises the mare.
He excuses himself and leaves the stall, hanging the lead on a hook on the outside of the door.
Hannah takes this opportunity to pet on Misae a moment, and try to settle her in.
In a few minutes, he returns with a wheelbarrow full of hay, a half-bucket of oats and a bucket of cold water, which he loads into the appropriate troughs in the stall.
To Hannah, he says, "I'll give her a good grooming after she's eaten. We can go up whenever you'd like."
"Yeah, I should go, I think," she say, meaning now. Hannah gives Misae one last look. "You be good. No teasing the boys, the tricking the men working here. If I'm not down tonight, I'll be down tomorrow."
She's a little reluctant to go, but she looks at Garrett, and makes herself turn to head out.
"Don't worry. She'll be fine." Garrett smiles reassuringly. "And you can come visit anytime. Someone's always here, day and night. We have to be," he chuckles. "Those Royals keep odd hours."
That makes her smile. "So do we doctors, my friend."
Last modified: 28 July 2004