Raven makes her way back down to the tavern where she grew up. It's not that she really wants to be there, but there are certain questions she has now... and the last person she's going to ask is her mother. The very last. But there's a decent chance, she thought, that some of her mom's buddies were still floating around down dockside, and they might have answers.
Of course, there is the question of which ones and where. So she stops off at a couple of shops, until she finds the one that sells the sweets that the girls who worked at the tavern preferred the last time she checked. Which has been a while. But, some sweets and an excuse to not work was never unwelcome.
She ducks into the kitchen when she gets there, out of habit mostly, and looks around.
The tavern is shuttered, but it's not really locked. It looks like someone has been in recently and swept up. It's unclear if Raven's mother sold it or someone has just moved into it.
Raven doesn't think there is anyone in the building, but she isn't sure.
Right. Because people are leaving Amber. Raven snorts and shakes her head. She should have figured. But, since she's here...
She heads off towards what had been her mother's room - and the one next door to it that had been hers once and had probably been her brother's recently. There was a loose floorboard in there, she knew; might as well see if it had been getting any use since she'd last emptied it out.
Raven heads upstairs by memory and the dim moonlight coming in the dirty windows. The floorboard shows signs of repair and un-repair over time. Someone used the compartment in the past, probably Max. There's nothing but loose dirt in it now, spread evenly over the bottom of the space.
Raven idly draws an awkward-looking little raven in the dirt, just because it's too tidy. Well, at least she means it to be a raven. It's bird-ish in shape.
There's something smooth under the dirt.
There's also a noise from downstairs. Someone has come in. Someones.
Well, now. Raven brushes more dirt aside to see what's hiding there - and she figures it's got to be 'hiding' and not 'left behind.' The boy seems a little odd, but not odd enough to have left something this well-hidden behind.
In the dim light, she sees what looks like a small portrait, on finished paper. Without more than moonlight, Raven can't tell who it is.
She's got an ear on the stairs, though, to see if the new arrivals are coming up and how unfriendly they might be if they do. She's pretty sure she should still be able to fit out either this window or her mother's if worse comes to worse. More likely her mother's. It's been a very long time since she last shimmied out of this window.
Raven hears two men downstairs, muttering to each other. They seem to be methodically searching for something.
Raven eyes the portrait in puzzlement for a moment, and then shrugs and fishes it out. And then she pockets it carefully. Whoever it is, it's out of place. And since it's out of place in what could possible still be her mother's property, clearly it has to come with her. And she's curious what it is, anyway.
If there's nothing else in the hidey-hole, she will start trying to figure out which direction the men below are headed next. The stairs would be so much easier than the roof for an exit...
If Raven had to guess based on creaks, they're coming up the stairs now. She'd estimate 3-4 men.
Well, nothing for it. Clearly. Raven snorts to herself. The window would work. So would hiding. But neither one will do a thing for her curiosity right now. So clearly the only thing to do is stroll out into the hallway and play dumb.
So she does. She doesn't whistle an innocent tune, though; that's just going too far.
Besides, she's pretty sure it usually sounds like somebody mugging a bird in a dark alley instead of a tune.
Three men are working on the lock to Scarlett's bedroom. They seem to lack the knack for breaking and entering. They turn around when the floorboards creak beneath Raven's feet.
They look her up and down, and rapidly come to a conclusion.
"Beat it, this one's ours," says the smallest of the men. In the dim moonlight he lets her see that he's carrying something sharp and metallic.
"Well, you can have it, I guess, but she ain't in there," Raven answers. "Buggered off to the other place. Can't say as how I think she's going to have left much behind for you lot to run off with, but I don't figure you'd take my word for it. And you can put that away. I ain't stupid."
She stops where she is and waits.
"Neither are we," replies another, who Raven concludes is the leader. Both of his fellows seem to be following his lead. "You'll just go get some friends if you waltz outta here." His eyes flash to an armoire where Raven recalls her mother keeping sheets. It's not in much better shape than it was when she was a girl dressed as a boy. "There's the easy way and the hard way..."
"I ain't fit in that bloody thing since I was twelve," Raven answers dryly. "So if that figures in on your 'easy way,' it ain't gonna work."
"Fine with me. The hard way's good, too."
It's not a wide corridor, and they've got it blocked off. Still, they can't circle Raven very well. The men move forward, but it's clear they don't even have the Navy's basic training. They could be taught to fight, if they're not too dumb.
Raven is faster, stronger, and generally better then them.
Well, Raven isn't here to teach them, unless maybe it's to teach them to think twice about attacking someone who isn't that worried about them breaking into someone's bedroom. She shrugs and mutters, "All right, then," and wades in.
They have no discipline, and fight as three individuals, which someone trained in Caine's Navy (and as witness and somtime participant in barfights for many years before that) can exploit with ease.
One slams into the cupboard door, another swings wildly at Raven and gets his wrist numbed by an elbow drop. The last falls with only the mildest of help from Raven. Soon her three assailants are unconscious, or at least no longer trying to get up.
Raven is only slightly winded. They three men are likely to live, and may have no worse than a few bruises. Many of Scarlet's customers had worse from the beer.
If anyone else is in the building, they surely know there's been a fight.
Raven drags the three into a position somewhat farther from the door, and then goes to investigate the armoire. Must have something interesting in it other than sheets, if the leader was glancing at it...
[OOC: nope, it was just a handy place to stash a troublemaker without killing him (or maybe to stash a corpse).]
The men are stacked in an unused cupboard and the armoire is investigated. There's not much to the armoire itself, but on a hunch, Raven removes the decorative top piece and find something. There is a package on top of the armoire, one that almost no one would have found except her. It's addressed to "Maximilian St. Cyr" and it looks to be a number of years old and it's heavy.
Raven weighs the package in her hands for a moment, trying to guess whether it's paper-heavy or metal-heavy or something else. Not that she's going to leave it behind, but if it's important, what's in it that it's still here? Was it left or "left"?
Metal heavy, definitely. And she's not sure, but there's something about it. It's like it was left to be found, but not by just anyone. Holding it closely it has a faintly acrid odor.
For that matter, is there anything else that got "left"? She starts looking around for other hidden places...
After a quick but solid look around, Raven decides the place has been cleaned out. In fact, given that the armoire could be disassembled, it's unclear why the whole thing didn't get taken to Xanadu when similar chests did.
Raven notices, through a window, that the three lads inside have at least one lookout outside.
Well, that makes leaving a little harder. Raven takes a look around for other lookouts, and for how close that one is to a door...
No others are obvious. Raven thinks the lookout is placed for a whistle or a thrown rock followed by a quick getaway. He's near the door, but not within reach of the door. He's closer to the alley.
Raven thinks about it for a moment; she could just leave, since there's just one. On the other hand - well, she used to live here too. She tugs the door open a bit, hiding in its shadow, and tries to sound unidentifiable as she stage-whispers, "Hey, get in here. Need some help."
If he's stupid enough to fall for it, she will introduce him to the wall and then the floor, in short order...
It's not clear if he fell for it, or investigated it, but he did come over and has made the acquaintance of the wall and the floor. Raven now has four victims on two floors.
Raven drags the man to an out-of-the-way spot downstairs; no point in leaving him out where anybody can find him.
Next step, next step. She considers for a minute, and then shrugs. Might as well report the thieves - assuming, as quiet as everything seems to be, there's someone around to report it to. Can't imagine that them breaking in was fine... but then again, she didn't expect to find people acting like rats deserting a sinking ship when she got back to Amber either.
Raven notifies the harbor watch and then heads back to the ship, intending to drop off the package for her brother and then head back out to try and round up any of her mother's cronies she can recall.
Only... he's just a kid, and she has no clue what's in it. On the one hand, could be fine. Could be perfectly normal things a man ought to give his nearly-grown kid. Definitely ain't something she ought to be sticking her nose into, in that case. On the other hand, Raven isn't sure why it was left behind the way it was, and she's got only a basic idea of who the kid's Da was. And she's pretty sure she doesn't think the way some of these supposed cousins of hers do. So it could be something that a kid that age doesn't need, just like the crazy ideas of revenge he's already got.
She almost makes it out the door of her cabin again, even, before she gives up trying to talk herself into not opening the package. Almost. And then she curses, goes back, and tries to make it not look like someone ripped it to shreds as she opens it.
The box is filled with tiny brass cylinders, pointed on one end. Hundreds of them.
Raven scowls at the box. It couldn't be something simple to decide on whether she should give it to the kid, could it. She cautiously lifts one of the cylinders out to inspect it better.
It looks roughly like a nail; perhaps 2 inches long, tapered to a point on one end and flat on the other. It's some sort of bronze or brass alloy with a shiny, silvery metal on the tip. There's something engraved on the flat end, but it's not written in Thari or any other language Raven knows. It's either been machine made or someone spent a lot of time making it perfectly cylindrical.
Judging by the weight and the way it moves, it's hollow, but has something inside it.
"Well, that ain't normal," Raven mutters to herself. She turns the cylinder over in her fingers one more time, frowning, and then shrugs and pockets it. She'll ask someone about it later. Maybe Jerod. Then she carefully closes up the package and stashes it in her sea chest for later dealing with.
She checks in with her men out of habit and then heads back out. There was a laundress down the road from where she grew up, and Raven vaguely recalls - the few times she tagged along instead of taking the dirty linens herself - that she and Scarlet were pretty friendly. Maybe she might know something. If she's here still.
The shop is run-down, as is most of the street. More of it is abandoned than not, or so it seems.
The laundress answers the door. "I'm not accepting any work now." She's older than Raven expects, and behind her there are neatly stacked boxes. Apparently she's leaving, too.
"For once, I ain't bringing you any," Raven answers. "I just got questions today, if you ain't in too much of a hurry to get rid of me."
She nods. "Come in then, if you will. I have tea, but I'm out of milk." The inside of the row house is about as Raven would expect. It's tidy and smells of bleach.
"I've known your mother for a long time. Known you all your life. What can a poor washerwoman do for Amber's newest sea-captain?"
"Don't you start with that nonsense. You always was the best at bedlinens in the whole dockside, and that's no lie." Raven follows after her, feeling suddenly a bit too much like the awkward teenager bringing the laundry down. "I got questions about me and her, funny enough. Ones she won't answer for me. I was hoping you might know the answers, or who I can go bother next."
Pigment laughs. "Once I was known for more than bedlinens. I assisted Midwife Throat at your birth, so I may could help you with some of her stories."
She looks down at the teacups, and pours a fine smelling tea into the best one for Raven. The cup is clean, plain, and uncracked, unlike the one Pigment takes for herself.
"Some questions, maybe it's better not to know the answer to."
"Well, unless I ain't recalling it right, I already asked you if I had extra fingers and toes, when I was eight." Raven snorts softly. She makes sure to handle the teacup with care; she doesn't want to crack this one, too. "The thing of it is - well, Ma, and I... we're still about as friendly as those old toms that Boots' ma kept. And I got into a spot where I need to know just who it was that did the deed that ended up with me. Did she ever tell you anything?"
Pigment smiles. "Same as any of us, dearie. Were young, the sailors were brave and dashing, and we didn't ever think they were coming back." Her smile turns somewhat wistful. "I had my share, but your ma, she never seemed to age, never lost her appeal to them. She was something, when she wanted to be. Before--
"Back then, Amber was a whirlwind, and you had a future, even if you screwed up. Not like now."
"It'll get better," Raven says, frowning a little. "Has to. Before what?"
She shakes her head. "Child, the city is foundering. What's left is a slow "abandon ship". There's damn few of us left, and the smart ones are getting out even now. Mark my words, they'll be shepherds tending their llama herds on the side of the mountain before too long, where the great and the powerful used to look down over this city.
She pauses, catches her breath. "You can feel it? We can all feel it. The city isn't the same since the sundering. No wonder the King wouldn't stay. Here's to him for leading us to a new Amber."
"I can feel something ain't right," Raven answers reluctantly. "And I'll drink to the King. But we spent all that time coming back here." She pokes a finger downward, pointedly. "Not anywhere else. New place ain't bad, but it ain't Amber neither. I ain't giving up on Amber yet. If that means I got to hang out with overfed sheep when I come back here, so be it."
"Well, that's as may be. It's a luxury most of them as lived here don't have. We have to go now, so as not to be left behind." She smiles. "I'm old, I'm set in my ways, but I feel sorry for them as can't go. It's a life-line and I already feel foolish for not walking through already, just leaving everything here and starting fresh. Would've, but I wanted to come back for my cats.
"You've got a ship, you can go back and forth, you ain't afraid of getting stuck in the decline and fall of Amber. Rest of us is going."
"Well, I ain't trying to stop anybody that wants to go. I even made sure Ma and Max got there." Raven scowls. "But I ain't got to like it. It don't seem right, Pigment. It don't seem right. But you be careful when you get there, you hear? Lots of things shook up, what with folks moving around and folks showing up from who knows where. Speaking of - don't suppose you knew I had an uncle?"
"I didn't, but I ain't surprised. Your Ma, she kept quiet about her past. I always thought she was some sort of nobleman's cast-off from the Golden Circle, sent here to get her out of the way. She landed on her feed, that one. Always."
Raven snorts. "She ain't mentioned it where I could hear, if it's so. Then again, I think she only told me I had a brother 'cause I was standing there when he went looking for snacks."
Pigment snorts. "He's not the little boy you were, in some ways, ah, obvious ways. Other's he's just the same. I don't know as to where or what, but your ma was definitely tied up in some Shadow business. News would come in and she'd almost go into hiding, other times she was free and open. Real savvy about the politics of foreign places, she is. That's what I base my guesses on."
"Pretty sure he's older in his head than I was at that age," Raven answers dryly. "Maybe smarter, too. You don't think that's got to do with his Da and not her? From the way Max talks, sounds like he was around a lot."
Pigment collects her thoughts for a moment before considering. "I think we have lived through more upheaval In Amber in the last ten years than the fifty generations before us. The Sundering was hard on us all. The city half burned down, the castle partially collapsed, the fleet sunk at anchor, there was no way to get in enough food for us all, and the regent was half dead. There was a lot of fear in those days. All of these new Princes and Princesses showed up and nobody knew them, or only knew of a few of them. They were everywhere and they were doing things, and they were getting us food and starting us rebuilding. It was easy for his Lordship to come around here. He had a special interest in the city, and did so much behind the scenes to keep it going.
"Is he really dead?"
"That's what I was told," Raven says, nodding. "Don't know anything about how, though, just that it was recent. Anybody else from up there come down this way much?"
The washerwoman waves her hand, as if it can explain things. "Depends on how you mean. They was all over the place, mostly trying to organize things and get us to rebuild, even where we should've let lie. Nobody who paid special attention to your'ns, though. So either they didn't catch anyone's eye or they all knew she was Lord Lucas'. It was a damn shame he had to get married. I hear tell that one isn't even his."
"I ain't heard that one." Raven snorts. "Ain't heard most gossip from those days, though. I don't think they knew, seeing as how that Prince I gave a ride to Xanadu was awful curious about Max and whether he might be related to him. He was pretty particular that he didn't want to say nothing until he was sure - something about it could be bad for the boy. So if she was up to that kind of thing with anybody else..."
Pigment shrugs her shoulders. "Men and women, that's what they do. Given your Ma's interest in the subject, I'm amazed at how you haven't had your secret penetrated, as it were. Are you taking pills from the Quacks? They make your hair fall out, I hear tell. Which might be a way to stop people from getting sex, at that."
Raven snorts again and shakes her head. "I ain't crazy enough to take pills from the Quacks. I heard they do worse than make your hair fall out. I got plenty of practice at keeping that secret, don't I? Besides, there's a few as know. Ain't many. And they know how to keep their traps shut, too. It ain't exactly something that needs to be getting around. I got enough going on."
She nods. "I ain't tole anyone all these years, don't you worry none now. But I ain't gonna call you 'His Lordship Captain Raven' when it's just us without laughing. It started being ridiculous when you were woman-high and now you're one of our sorcerer-kings and like as not to magically light someone on fire for crossing you and you're still hiding out of 'abit.
"If that's not the funniest thing I've heard all week, I don't know what is."
"I ain't asking you for that," Raven points out, scowling. "I ain't all high and mighty just because they somehow decided I got Royal blood. They ain't normal up there, anyway. Just what do you think is going to happen if I go up there and tell them? They sure won't let me stay in the Navy. And you want to laugh at something, Pigment, wait until they start telling me that I have to wear dresses."
Pigment cackles, but quickly muffles it. "You know why you and yer Ma didn't get along? Because you're so much alike. Ask 'em up there about Princess Deirdre. You'll learn a thing or two, I recon."
Raven snorts. "I got to ask some questions up there anyway. They gave me some names as to who might be my Da, based on the half-arsed 'tall and dark' I got. Already met one of them, before, and I ain't looking forward to talking to him again. Why, what's so special about that Princess?"
Pigment grins. "The last time I saw her, she was marching out of Amber in armor and carrying an axe, at the head of one of the King's armies. I read what they wrote about the big memorial, and she was a hero. Nobody didn't know she was a woman, but nobody got in her way as didn't come back the worse for it."
"Nobody didn't know she was born and bred up the hill, either," Raven says dryly. "I ain't. And I still ain't sure they're not putting one over on me, nice as some of them have been, so I ain't letting anybody in on this. Not yet. That's why I'm looking to find out what I can about who my Ma slept with, you know. If I got something better than..." She pauses, thinking, and then snorts. "Well, than some woman sniffing me and the King agreeing with her, well, I'll feel better about it."
Pigment looks impatient. "You spent too much time on the docks, with foreigners, getting funny ideas. Amber doesn't put up with lese-majeste, too many people are too invested in their piece of the ladder. The status quo defends itself and if the King says you are and anyone disagrees, they're disagreeing with the King."
She sighs. "But you're gonna have to learn the hard way, I suppose. Like your Ma."
Raven snorts. "I spent too much time away from Amber, and that's the truth. This's just what I think today. Maybe I'll give it up after I've had time to think. Ain't got it figured out yet, that's all. And I guess I bothered you enough now. I should let you get back to packing up. Just - one other thing? Where's Midwife Throat gotten off to?"
"Depends on how much you believe the cults, doesn't it? She died in the fires after the Sundering. Them days weren't easy on the old ones."
Raven sighs. "Aye, that figures. Thank you, Pigment." She sets down the teacup carefully and rises. "You be careful when you get over to the new place, you hear me? It ain't the same there as here."
And with a few more pleasantries, she makes her way out the door.
Pigment sees her out the door with a smile and a wave and presumably gets back to packing.
Raven heads up the hill from Pigment's, thoughtfully rolling the strange cylinder around in her pocket as she walks. She isn't sure what it is, still, but it seems like there's someone around that she might be able to ask. So when she reaches the castle, she flags down a passing someone that looks like they might know where she can find the Admiral and requests to see him, if he's not too busy.
There are an absolute fleet of midshipmen running around Castle Amber. One of them takes her message and relays it to Admiral Caine. Another offers to arrange quarters for her if she hasn't been assigned any yet, and so on and so forth. They seem to know who Captain Raven is and have adjusted to the idea that she's a member of the Family. Treatment is better than Raven got as a Captain but without the sort of expectation of cluelessness that might greet some royals.
Raven lets them set her up with quarters, and whatever else goes with that.
A message comes back down with the Admiral's compliments and a suggestion for a working dinner, if that would suit.
[OOC: If so, next round we'll set the scene and go. Please advise about Raven's manner of dress.]
[OOC: This will absolutely suit. I am not sure Raven owns anything she would consider appropriate to wear to dinner with the Admiral other than a nice version of a Captain's uniform?]
[OOC: I was wondering that myself.]
When Raven arrives at the appointed hour and room, she finds that a buffet has been set up for her and the Admiral, and probably for the multiplicity of midshipmen who are running around performing errands for Caine all day.
"The Admiral says to serve yourself; he'll be joining you momentarily," the midshipman who's been serving as her aide tells Raven, before leaving her to it.
Less than two minutes later, the Admiral himself breezes in, another handful of aides in tow, sending them off with orders and paperwork to various other parts of the castle and city, including one to M at the Naval Club, whom Raven knows (because she is a Captain) is a mover and a shaker despite being confined to a chair.
"Captain Raven," Caine says once he's sent his fleet of youngsters off and the door has closed behind them. "Welcome back to Amber." He moves to fill his own plate from the buffeet. "What brings you to the city, and the castle?"
"Thank you, sir," Raven answers, with a proper - if one-handed due to a plate - salute for the Admiral. "Jerod and I were on our way to Gateway, but he's off doing something with the weir. I been entertaining myself while he's off doing whatever it is. But I got some questions I'm not finding answers to on my own. I was hoping maybe you could help, if it ain't too much trouble?"
"Tell me what it is, and I'll see what I can do for you," Caine answers from the buffet. It's a typical Caine answer. Gerard would have just offered to help or not; that's the difference between the two fleets. "And take a seat when you're done. We're among family here."
Once he's filled his own plate to the level required by the legendary appetite of a Prince of Amber, Caine comes to the table and takes the end chair nearer to whichever end of the table Raven sat down at. Even if it wasn't the head before, it clearly is now.
Raven picks a set near one end of the table anyway, aiming for somewhere where there isn't a door at her back. "Well, sir," she says once he's seated. "I suspect I ought to be asking you who among those what are or have been in the Navy might be my Da, but I think I can figure it out if I keep after it. But this thing..." She fishes the weird cylinder she'd kept from the box addressed to Max out of her pocket and sets it on the table. "I ain't got the first clue what it is or what it's for."
Caine looks at it and takes it from Raven's hand if she allows, holding it up between thumb and forefinger to examine. "I do. Standard shadow make, but I'd be willing to bet I know what we'd find if we opened it." He smiles thinly in Raven's direction, but not particularly at her.
"You'll need to take it to Random after you're done here. Don't show them to anyone else beforehand. You've done vey well bringing them to me, Captain. Are there more like this, and where did you find them?"
"There was a box of them. I didn't count, but there was a lot in that box." Raven frowns. "It was in the tavern where I grew up. The thing that bothers me most about it, sir, is that it was packaged up and addressed to my little brother."
Whatever math Caine is doing in his head, he's coming up with results he doesn't like. He looks like a bite of the dinner he's been eating during this discussion had something unpleasantly bitter.
"Addressed to your brother? How old is this brother? Is he in crown service?" Caine looks like he's about to get out of his chair and call someone to get hold of Max. "And who packaged it up and left it for him, and when?
"Nobody's supposed to have those. If there's not a good reason, someone could be charged with treason to the crown, and I wouldn't want that to be your brother."
Raven shakes her head and quickly supplies, "He's a kid. He ain't more than nine or ten. I bet he didn't know about it. I know my Ma didn't, or it wouldn't've been there, sir. They're in Xanadu; there weren't hardly anything left behind, except that box and what it was hidden on top of."
Caine relaxes as much as he ever does at Raven's statement.
"Then who sent them to him? Because the list of people who should have access to those, or be able to pass them on to anyone, never mind a child, is very short. And mostly made up of family members," he says, searching Raven's face. "Fortunately for you, you're not on the immediately suspicious list for this particular crime, and the fact that you brought them here immediately speaks well of your loyalty. Where are the rest? We'll need to retrieve them after we dine, and I'll send you back to Xanadu myself."
"In my sea chest, on the ship we came in on," Raven answers promptly. "Seemed the safest place, sir, since anybody that wanted 'em would have to go through my lads first." She pauses, thinking, and then plows on, "Is Lucas someone that might be on that list? Because it seems like my father ain't the only Royal my Ma got a kid off of; seems like he's my brother's father."
There's that 'rations went bad' look again. "Lucas wasn't on the list, but I can imagine how he got hold of this. He had opportunity and means, and apparently motive as well." Caine sounds less surprised by whatever transgression Lucas may have engaged in than disappointed. "If the boy is Lucas' son, we'll have to do something about him. The last thing we want is his mother or his wife getting hold of the child. We can see how his mother did with Lucas, and his wife is--well." Caine gives Raven a lizard-like smile. "Crown ward would be much better for the child, especially if he has more little surprises like this waiting for him."
"There's you and Jerod and Prince Martin what know about him. Does 'crown ward' mean more than that - moving him up to the castle and all? Because that don't sound bad, but I'm not sure my Ma will let him go peaceful-like." Raven scowls a little. "And she can be a right pain in the arse if she wants to. She seems to like him better than me, too, so she may be more likely to kick up a fuss... though how much of that was that she was getting paid to help with his growing up, I guess we'll see."
"Random has a soft spot for lowborn mothers, or perhaps that's only for his own sons." Caine seems utterly unconcerned about the lese-majeste he's committing with that statement. "But she'll be taken on or pensioned off as seems suitable. If you have a strong feeling either way, you'll be in a position to make that known when you speak to the King. If Lucas left him any more trouble, and the odds seem good that he did, Random won't want him running loose."
Raven scowls a little and says dryly, "Sir, I ain't all that sure I want him running around loose myself. The kid's got some odd ideas for a nine year old about 'taking his revenge' on whoever killed his father, although it sounded like he's at least got enough sense to not try it now. Was Lucas into a lot of 'trouble'?"
Caine smiles, a little nastily. "No offense, nephew, but some of his high crimes and misdemeamours are above your pay grade, even as a son of royal Amber. Some of them would have almost been above my pay grade when Dad was king." He pauses and repeats himself, "Almost.
"As for your brother, we'll need to wean him of the desire to avenge himself on his father's killer, if only because she's not his to kill. There are other family members with a better claim. You should mention that part to Random, too."
"I'll try," Raven says doubtfully. "If it ain't above my pay grade, sir - you said she. Does that mean it's known who did it? Is it likely that would be talked about where he could overhear?"
"Everyone in the family does," Caine confirms. "It was Moire, former Queen of Rebma, mother to Celina, sister to Llewella, grandmother to Martin, the woman who forced Random to marry Vialle." A list of accomplishments, delivered smugly. "And in any case, Lucas was committing an act of lese-majeste that could hardly be overlooked. He was attempting to make a secret Trump of her." He pauses there to get Raven's reaction.
Raven takes a moment to chew that over before she says, "And that's bad. I ain't got my head entirely wrapped around some of this stuff yet, but Brita said they could be used to attack people. So if it was secret, he was probably planning to attack her, right?" She scowls. "Lovely."
"Whatever intention he had, it wasn't good, and Moire clearly took it as a threat. She might eventually do the same to your brother if he threatens her loudly and often enough, assuming she doesn't have bigger fish to fry." There's that razor-thin smile again, calling out what passes for humor from Caine.
"In any case, what he was doing was forbidden. Even if you have the gift of making Trumps--and I assume you don't--don't ever make one without advance permission of the subject. My brother Brand, who was probably Lucas' teacher, given what we know of times and places, did that to Random's son Martin. The nearly-destroying-the-universe part was bad, but Random didn't take kindly to Brand exploiting his son that way either."
Raven snorts. "I'm guessing making Trumps takes more than being able to draw a proper line with a straight edge?" she says dryly. "Because I pretty much got that one down, sir, but it took a lot of practice. I'll talk to the boy as best I can. I only just met him when we got back; I ain't got the first clue yet how much sway I've got with him. I think he's clever enough that he ain't going to go haring off to do something stupid now - but he may also be clever enough to plan out the stupid for a long while first. At least, that's what it sounded like." She frowns. "I should probably ask him if Lucas was teaching him about Trumps, right? Would he be able to?"
"Unknown. But it's likely that the gift wouldn't manifest in him fully until he's taken his growth. We don't know enough about what trying to make a Trump of him would do, either."
Repeating the part about not knowing doesn't seem to be doing much for Caine's disposition. It doesn't seem to have killed his appetite, though, as he's demolished the piled plate he heaped up for himself. He rises to fetch another helping, since apparently he's mastered the Naval trick of eating what you can when you can. "Bleys likes to say it's an art, not a science, making Trumps. But I don't notice him making any--though it would be just like him to keep that skill up his sleeve until a crucial moment the way Brand did."
"What does that mean, sir?" Raven asks, frowning. "The bit about not knowing enough what making one of him would do. It seemed like the King and Brita was telling me that only those as has Royal blood could use a Trump. I ain't exactly clear on all this, but I ain't sure I ever heard the idea that you had to be old enough to have blood."
"I suppose he technically doesn't," Caine says, "but a Trump is supposed to resemble its user and a boy who hasn't come to his growth yet won't look like himself in a few years. Maybe that means the Trump of him won't work, but if it's the other way around--and I've heard things that make me wonder--that can't be good for the boy. But I don't claim to be an expert."
He finishes heaping up his plate again and comes back to the table. "Anyone can use a Trump. It's the making of them and having one made of you that's limited to the royal blood, and then only in certain fractions, apparently, which is what happened with Lucas' wife."
"Which is what, sir?" Raven asks. "Besides bad. I got that bit."
"According to Ossian, he attempted to make a Trump of Solace, because he thought she was of the royal blood. And when he Trumped her with the card, she collapsed. Then he solicited Ossian to make another, on the pretext of confirming her blood, and when they tried to use it, the same thing happened. She was carrying one of their children the second time." Caine reports this all in a fairly bored tone between bites of food. "Lucas was supposed to be a devoted father. Apparently not such a devoted husband."
Raven scowls. "Well, ain't that lovely. Seems to have done all right by my brother, at least... The kid came out okay, right?"
Caine shrugs as he settles down with his plate and begins to eat his dinner. "As far as we know, both of Lucas' children--the ones from his marriage to Solace, since those and Max are the only ones we've identified with any certainty--are unharmed, even when Solace collapsed carrying the little boy. But we don't know that he didn't try to make trumps of them and contact them. Nor do we know that of your brother Max." There's a bit too much stress on what Caine doesn't know of Lucas for it to be anything like a good sign.
The scowl doesn't really go away, although Raven is working over her own plate. "Max said he was told he was the oldest, sir, and that he had three brothers and two sisters. Don't know if he knows more than that, though. I can ask."
"I hope that includes Hope and Phillippe, his two children with Solace. Gerard said he was a profligate son of a bitch, but I didn't think he meant this way." Caine is still scowling too, even as he makes short work of his own second plate. "I wish we had some idea of how much he learned from my brother and exactly what he thought he was doing.
"Ossian was involved in whatever he was doing. Do you know Ossian? You may need to talk to him on this point."
Raven shakes her head. "Pretty sure I ain't met even half of those there are to meet, sir. Is he here in Amber?"
Caine frowns, which is something of a default expression for him, but at least this time it's thoughtfully. "Not that I know of. Someone mentioned that he might be looking for Reid. You can try the Trump Booth in Xanadu, which should have a card of him. I don't know who else does. And if you need a quick transit back to Xanadu, I've got Random's card. I need to speak to him about all this anyhow, and he may have questions for you."
Last modified: 11 September 2013