Swimming In Circles

As [Celina and Merlin] ride into the courtyard of the inn, a boy comes to take their horses. The innkeeper will be waiting inside.

Smiling at the boy, Celina adjusts to her new clothes and stretches as the mount is led off.

She waits on Merlin to collect himself--then moves inside the inn.

Where it is darker. Ceramic bowls line shelves in a pantry leading off to a kitchen. The smells from the simple corridor make her stomach rumble. She greets the innkeeper, both taken by the congruity of his appearance and tickled by the differences of things unimagined. His hair is uncombed, there is a mermaid tatooed on his right forearm, and Celina decides that the ring in his right ear gives him a jaunty sensuality. "G'day to you, innkeep. A dinner for two and a night's lodging as well. If you have something stronger than beer, I'll have a mug of that."

She winks at Merlin, only realizing then that he might have preferred to speak first.

Merlin seems fine with letting Celina do the talking.

The innkeeper nods. "Five silver mermaids for the room, another each for the meals, and two more each for stabling for your horses for the night. And a copper farthing for the good ale."

Celina looks at the coins Merlin has given her. If Corwin outfitted them for the journey, he clearly intended them to stay at a better class of inn than the one they're at, because they have a small fortune. There's not enough silver to cover the tab, but there are gold coins with tridents on the obverse and a notation for 20 in a script Celina recognizes from her time Seaward on the reverse.

She has the sense that the innkeeper is naming a high price, not unreasonable, but what he thinks he can get out of well-attired folk like Merlin and herself.

It niggles at her merchant daughter's heart to not bargain with the man. She does not spend even a moment wondering if she created the notion of overcharging them just so she could stretch her mercantile legs by trying to lower his price.

The Seaward lass moves closer to the innkeep. "A fine place and the smells rolling from your kitchen have me eager to pay the silvers for our meals. My friend and I will eat enough to laud your kitchen from here to horizon. What care rates silver for our horses meals? How about three mermaids for the room? And what price a keg, rather than a mug?"

Continuing to bargain with him, getting the feel for the people and their wits by the haggle, Celina is more than happy to give the man his due. When he sees how much the two of them eat, he'll be satisfied in making up his loss with the other charges. She uses a light patter to keep the innkeep jumping from one aspect to another.

She will use some of the bargaining time to eye other details of the inn.

The keg is a red-herring she does not intend to follow-up on. She interested in the scale of prices, but not in getting she and Merlin that comfy with ale.

The innkeep is an excellent haggler, but under the circumstances, that's no surprise. Celina is able to bargain him down on the stabling prices a little, and ensure the horses have the best care. Merlin watches the process with some interest, but says nothing. The locals find that a bit odd, Celina suspects, but they don't say anything.

The inn itself is much as Celina would have expected. Well-kept, but not prosperous. Most of the goods are what one would expect from the local area, with a sprinkling of imported goods bought with coin from foreign travelers such as Corwin's children.

After Celina negotiates the price and pays, Merlin takes their things, such as they are, up to a small room. The nature of these places is such that the room itself is a luxury; they will share a bed tonight. There is a basin that they can use to sponge off and refresh themselves.

There is some small time before dinner. Celina could call for a bath, or she could go downstairs and wait for dinner. Or perhaps rest for a time.

Celina goes with Merlin up to the room. There are quick moments along the climb where she tests the railing, takes scent of the woodwork, and generally amazes herself with the character of the place she has found from out of shadow. Not quite a gal with a new toy, rather a sensualist with a fervent curiosity.

Once at the room. She intends a sponge bath before dinner. This time, she asks Merlin first. "You don't mind if I wipe off a bit before dinner do you? Just a span of minutes, really."

"Go ahead," says Merlin. He lies down for a quick nap, and is oblivious to her activities within moments.

With his consent, she strips quickly and stretches and sponges with pleasure.

Celina pulls a few fresh things out of their baggage for dinner and is ready in the promised short interval.

The meal is plain, but hearty and filling. As Celina suspected they would, she and Merlin eat copious amounts of fish stew, to the slight chagrin of the innkeeper. Merlin watches her and emulates her table manners and food choices.

Celina, knowing something of learning in the moment, will make sure she gives plenty of tips and stays ahead of his information needs.

One of the local girls would offer Merlin company for the night, Celina thinks, but he behaves as if he is oblivious to her flirtations.

His opaque reactions provoke again within Celina that Merlin may not be resolved about his feelings regarding women. He has been helpful, sincere, and solicitous with no sign that he understands the difference between women and men. He clearly understands 'sister' and is respectful. If a Chaosi mother can hunt down her son, what obligations rule in Chaos? If Merlin can do female shaping so easily---what then is gender in Chaos?

Is the secret of shaping being able to throw away your body's identity?

Celina doesn't try to drive the girl away. She'll study and learn better if she doesn't push her fingers into everything so quickly.

With body language and smiles, Celina will go so far as to let the girl know that her friendly attentions are noticed by Celina and that there is no harm in offering.

The girl seems a bit bewildered by this.

Not knowing much about the local beliefs, Celina will not take company for the night either.

After dinner, Celina is willing to move to upstairs and talk about the day's learning. "I'm very tickled about the whole experience. I keep the notion at bay that changes and travel through shadow seems so large a part of the structure of things---how could I feel the same? Or is that because I'm not sharp enough to feel the difference? In my mind, is the battle between 'this inn could have been here for years' and 'the place is part of me' I brought forth from my head."

She tries to rein in her enthusiasm in order to find out more about Merlin. "Do you struggle with the possessive notion of what is found?"

"No," says Merlin, "but I am not one to possess in that way, I do not think. I am averse to affinage responsibilities."

He sits on the bed and begins to remove his boots. "What do you think that waiter wanted from me, Celina? She seemed very eager to serve me."

She leans against the wall and watchs him, unknowing setting her teeth at worrying her lower lip. He is handsome, sincere as a priest, and she dosen't know where to start to answer this question. Celina doesn't for a moment think to duck the question and keep him in the deep where cold and light might keep his mind asleep.

Not and be true as a sister.

"Well, my friend," she starts, "many men not half as good looking as you, nor nearly as polite and cheery would have been plenty interested in her comfort. She was eager to serve you, in hope that a rich fella like yourself would invite her to your rest for a bit of physical communication."

Celina keeps her tone friendly and even, somehow afraid to spook him. "That lass expected she might be a good bit of exercise for your libido. You look the part of a man of means, and your manners are such that most healthy women who like testing their physical pleasures would pick you above others."

Merlin looks like he bit into a tasty apple and found a worm.

Yes. This could make a sorry mess of our travels by what he asks or if he doesn't. Which way will it go, I wonder? Celina watchs his face for clues like an unknown reef before her ship. "The sea does not have all the words that topsiders use. What responsibilities are 'affinage'? You make it sound like 'lordship'," she asks.

"It is not an Amber word. It comes from my mother's realm. An affine is a creature that serves a lord of Chaos. The lord's will becomes the will of the affine." Merlin looks a little troubled. "There is a kinsbeing of mine in Amber which has an affine. You will meet it when we go there."

'Kinsbeing' and affines as 'it'. I was right, the Chaosi culture is gender shy. And brother seems digusted by the thought of sex. Celina nibbles on her lower lip. "In the realms of ... order, I expect it will trouble you to be 'attended' so eagerly by females unknown to you. However, it is common in many places. I think you can safely ignore it as you did downstairs, for your manner is generally polite, if ... cold."

Merlin blinks at Celina.

Not sure she is taking the right line, she watches him. "But warmer would be better. Many men deflect interest with more ... grace by smiling, nodding, and then telling the woman that she reminds them of a neighbor or a pretty friend of their sister. The compliment leaves less disturbance of order behind us, and so it makes less remark later when we are gone." Celina shrugs playfully. "Just something to think about. Everything will be fine.

"And if you ever want me to step in and deflect them, let me know," she adds.

"That would be very kind of you, yes, sister. I do not know all the ways of ordered reality, and I do not wish to be ungraceful in my refusals."

"I doubt you would be given a bit of practice."

Merlin stretches and yawns. "I am quite exhausted, sister, after all our hard work. Shall we retire? If we are to do this again on the morrow, I will need a lot of sleep."

She grins. "It is refreshing as the surf on Garnath beach to know that you need sleep. There are so many amazing things about you that I'm learning." She waves at the bed. "I look forward to tomorrow, so let us be about sleep."

And she gets herself ready to crawl in. Celina expects no trouble in sleeping very well tonight.

Celina has no troubles in her sleep; if she dreams, she doesn't remember it.

In the morning, they perform their morning rituals, such as they are, and pay the innkeeper before heading on their way. The morning ride proceeds much as the ride the day before.

The mounts seem eager to make distance. Celina picks up a few cues from Merlin as the day goes on, he is very detailed, less the artist of sensations that she finds herself being. Though she also notes his manner of concentration seems quite physical.

Or Merlin needs concentration to seem relaxed. Celina muses at one point.

As Celina's turn comes at making their way to Amber, she holds to the work of keeping the ocean in sight and nose. Then she adds to the focused brew the expectation of the beach of Garnath, with its striped sands of jet and pink. The sand there is so fine it is like sugar. Dusting it from your hands and feet is a tickle of sensation that compliments the sun bearing down above.

The notion that sunlight tickles her skin she holds as a secret she is unlikely to share.

This day they use more of their rations--less effort at finding a waystation.

Working the shadow trail, learning and knowing the terrain at the same time, Celina begins to feel an odd peace that has eluded her for days. She had wondered how she could be the same Celina as before the Pattern, and the journey is a sort of answer now. This trip maps a new Celina, someone a bit more mysterious than the old girl--someone with a power that paints worlds.

She can and does feel sorry for Merlin, and even think of protecting him, for in the realms of Order he may never feel what she can. Though the air and golden light of topside is foreign to her, she learns it and takes it into her senses. It finds places in the depths of her cool green memory that are not forced in fitting there.

Will that ever be Merlin's grace?

As twilight gathers, she knows she must stop and doesn't mind the solitude of just stopping in the wild. "Merlin." She is surprised to hear her voice, breathy and sensuous and tired. "How about food and a camp?"

"That would be good, yes," Merlin replies. "I would rather not deal with people tonight anyway."

He makes a camp and a fire, and seems sure enough of the procedure for doing so. He will try his hand at cooking, but most of the provisions Alice sent along are such that Merlin's awkward attempts at preparing them can't ruin them.

Afterwards, again, they sleep the sleep the sleep of the dead.

This pattern continues for several days, at which point Celina realizes they're swimming in circles.

Methinks there is some essential quality of Amber that neither I nor my brother have yet conceived. Celina squints at the golden orb simmering above. If I thought I was the center of the universe, where would I be?

These thoughts occupy her for a while.

Then while Merlin is leading them, she is studying Merlin's profile and comparing it to Corwin's when she seizes upon a notion.

"People!" the Seaward Lass exclaims. "Merlin, are you including in our destination the unique people of Amber or only the objects and shapes of Amber? I think we are swimming in circles."

What an interesting idiom, Merlin does not say. His blinks convey the message, however.

"I do not believe I am. Perhaps this is my error. I am tired and my mind is fogged. Let us find camp and rest, and I will try again tomorrow, thinking of my friends," Merlin suggests.

Celina nods. "Of course, we have spent a long time at this, and I appreciate how difficult it is for us both." She makes sure he feels her support as they make a small camp and tend to settling themselves.

She worries that in taking the lead, he will also shoulder more blame. In her heart, she holds none at all for they both have taken on the task largely knowing their newness to it all. So she looks for small moments to let him know her trust in him is yet high.

The weather that night is terrible. A storm blows through, and Merlin and Celina huddle together for warmth against the chill wind and rain. Merlin says if he had enough mastery of their skills, he could probably make it go away, but whatever efforts he makes are futile.

With nothing to add to his attempts, still she stays close and tries to cheer him with describing storms from her experiences below the waves. Celina believes the information does no harm and might distract Merlin from his lack of success.

The storm keeps them up most of the night, and Merlin suggests that they sleep in to make up for it.

And Celina agrees, believing he will not rest properly if she doesn't.

But even so, she sleeps little and wakes before dawn her mind so full of ideas and theories of how they might do better. Certainly, they are lost --- but in this strange place that power over shadow has taken them, to lose will or good sense can only make them worse off.

Even last night's storm might be an eddy of Merlin's inner concerns. Celina resolves herself to letting him lead. He knows Amber, as she cannot. Now she throws back another layer of what might have been obvious from the first.

How could she do anything with her efforts but be at odds with his? They see things through a lens of different languages, different colors of life perhaps. How to work together when there are no words to the work, let alone the beauty of sound, smell, and the marvels of taste?

She watches the sun up itself for another day and draws geometries in the dirt with her toes.

"The painting must be cohesive and true, not nearly as good or somewhat as I expect it to be," she tells the small line sketch of the palace of Rebma she has drawn. "Even an Amber mortally wounded should still be a thing of mighty glory. A thing I only can imagine."

So far I can only spin out shadows of that thing I seek. Celina sits with chin on knees and watches over her brother til he wakes rested.

As he does, she will not pretend she has been asleep, but she will fix him a good breakfast with solid practical skills she learned as a young girl: heating someone else's prepared meals.

Merlin sleeps for a long time, quietly and without stirring, as Celina has found is his way. If he dreams, his dreams don't disturb his countenance. He rises at midday, and consumes the breakfast she has readied for him with thanks.

They care for the horses, who are well-watered, if nothing else, and ride on. The shifts are subtly different, but Celina cannot tell how. She just knows they're different. Merlin seems to be wrestling with them a bit more.

Thoroughly captive of an exercise she cannot yet solve, she attends to his every sign of struggle.

She does not distract him with questions or social conversation until they stop for camp.

On the evening of the next day, Celina catches Merlin surreptitiously drawing out his trumps and looking at them by firelight, then putting them away. He doesn't say anything, but sleeps long that night.

In the morning, she puts a cheerful spin on the adventure with encouraging comments, but she is practical enough to know that they are out of provisions. Other options may have to be discussed--out of respect for his efforts so far, she waits to have that talk.