Venesch bows to the retreating Prince and opens the door for his old student. He gestures towards the long grassy sward between the castle and the lake. "Shall we walk?" he asks.
[Assuming Jerod goes with him.]
"My Prince, I would ask you to second me rather than Thorn. He is a good man, but I would not put him at odds with Lady Robin."
"I'm curious as to what odds you believe he would be at?" Jerod asks, side-stepping the question of being his second. "In a first blood situation, the second's function is fairly limited. Are you anticipating something else occurring?"
"There are two reasons I do not wish him to be my second," Venesch explains. "The first is that it places him at odds with the royal family, which is a burden neither he nor they need in a captain of guards. Just as I could not have accused Lady Robin if I still held my former position.
"The second, my Prince, is that I do not wish to place him in a combat that he has no chance of winning. However low the odds that seconds will be called upon to fight, Thorn does not have the ability or experience to win."
"Logical." Jerod replies. "Though if in fact seconds are required, there are options to allow Robin having her second step forward? She's not going to pick someone who is lesser rank than herself. You could be putting me in a position to face off against Bleys. Not that I wouldn't mind the attempt." he says after a moment. "Might not win, but getting a couple of whacks in would be fun.
"I'm more interested in what all started this. I only got part of it when I walked in. I want the rest."
Venesch strolls on, turning aside only when they are within a yard or so of the water. "You had, I believe, returned to Rebma, when I offered my resignation to the Regent for the escape of my prisoner. It was not voluntary; I was in charge and therefore responsible. You will recall, of course, that I offered the same to King Eric when Prince Corwin escaped. The Regent chose to accept the offer, as is his right.
"The Lady Robin, who I was later told was responsible for the incident, did not choose to take responsibility, leaving it on my head. While I thought it possible that she was in league with Huon and aiding his escape, I was not convinced, but were she such, she could have acted no better to assist him.
"And so the Lady Robin found me, a few hours later. Deprived of my position, a risk to my family and my very existence an embarrassment to the Crown, for none would accept the justice of my reduced circumstances. I chose to commit honorable suicide rather than be at odds with the Crown or hurt those I loved.
"It was not until Lady Robin first offered me employ in her own household and assaulted me when I refused that I began to seriously consider that she committed more than technical treason by assaulting the King, in the person of one of his soldiers.
"I was as surprised as I had ever been to actually see you and the others when we arrived here. I am not the Marquis Maritime, and so do not assume that all act from hostility to us, although Lady Robin's antipathy to the city and castle my masters loved so well is quite obvious.
"I would like to believe her motives are honest, but her actions are ill-conceived and her education was grossly mishandled for a Lady of Amber or Xanadu.
"Do you have further questions, Prince Jerod?"
"Just one." Jerod says, re-directing momentarily, making a statement for context. "Robin, is messed up, not treacherous. She has issues, and she lets her emotions rule what should be a considerable intellect. Let's hope Vere rubs off on her.
"What will you do after the duel has concluded? If she is victorious, and she does not accept responsibility for Huon's escape by her actions or lack thereof, then what? You will be in the same position you previously were. Only this time, I will be a witness to it. That might be sufficient to force my hand and call her out myself, to answer for her misdeeds that have claimed a loyal retainer. Is that what you are looking for?"
"I assume she will be. I have some tricks, but she is the child of a Prince of Amber, and I am an aging swordsman. There is only so much that training and experience can overcome.
"Consider what would happen if you were to defend my honor. If you were to win, the Lady Robin would be disgraced and I would still not be welcome in Amber's guardroom amongst Caine's ambitious, well-connected midshipmen. Nor would I displace Thorn, here. In addition, I would be weakened by being seen to need your support. And there would be bad blood between you and Lady Robin, and possibly Prince Julian as well.
Venesch shakes his head. "No, best for all if I make my statement with my steel and retire, one way or another. I served at the King's Pleasure, and that is clearly passed."
"Bad blood is irrelevant where friendship is concerned." Jerod replies. "I am not concerned about the politics of having a...retainer lose their position. I am worried about my friend, which is what you are. You have been that, and more, since my father handed over his only son to you for training. I have very few friends, and I will not turn from those I have should they be in need."
"I appreciate that, as I appreciate Thorn's offer," Venesch replies. "Prince Caine would have found a way to relieve himself of me before too long. I am content to retire, although I will take a posting if Winter can arrange it.
Jerod nods slowly, accepting what he hears. "Very well. In that case, I agree to act as your second. You may be a bit older than her, but as Dad taught me youth and enthusiasm are no match for old age and treachery. We'll just stay light on the treachery part so we keep in the rules and maintain honour. Let us discuss our strategy concerning the upcoming duel and then I will await the arrival of Robin's second."
Venesch nods. "The first step is to consider one's opponent. The Lady Robin was raised a Ranger and will be skilled in what they teach, and is old enough to have fought in Arden against both Corwin and his monsters. Notable Ranger weaknesses involve small unit combat, and are unsuitable for a duel. In addition, she will be faster, stronger, and prepared.
"She is considered to be less prone to intellectual pursuits than her peers are. One wonders if she and Prince Gerard's son will be able to have happy evenings at home.
"She is not comfortable indoors, and is not well-suited to castle life. This keeps her from knowing enough about the environment to be at her best in it." Venesch turns and looks towards a castle window.
"My current approach to strategy is two-pronged. First, try to fight her on ground that is advantageous to me, which is to say an indoor duel in a location with much of the trappings of civilization. I may slide across a table that will not hold her weight. Second, steadily pepper her with comments and questions so that she cannot think on the fight due to my distraction.
"My expectation is that those will not be enough, but will give me something of a chance to not be blooded inappropriately quickly."
His eyes snap to Jerod. "What are your thoughts?"
"As challenger, you choose the site, and she chooses the weapons." Jerod says. "Robin is good, no doubt of that. She may be as good as me, though she's never given me the opportunity to test that assumption. But she's a Ranger. She's more hands on and practical. You've both had experience in battle but you have the advantage of formal military training and all the extras that go with that. Use it. If it were me, I'd piss her off and make her angry, but in that state she'll probably run clean through your defenses and not even realize she was getting hit, at the cost of you getting killed very quick. If you intend to distract, make it personal. Not insulting mind you, just personal. I think she is realizing she made a mistake by not considering her situation when she had Huon, and that rash actions can precipitate unfortunate consequences. Keeping that foremost in her thoughts may slow her down, cause her to hesitate, even momentarily. In this fight, to first blood, that's what you need.
"As second however, I am duty bound to attempt a negotiated settlement to avoid the duel in the first place. I need to know what terms you wish to pursue. Your maximum and your absolute minimum, so I can get an idea as to what range for negotiations I have."
Venesch nods along. "Even mutual bloodletting would do. Well noted, my Prince. I shall endeavor to do so. I think I have some facility with angering Lady Robin.
"As to a negotiation, I would like the Lady Robin to admit her error and apologize to me for failing to do so promptly, in front of the Court and the King. In return I would apologize for overhastily deciding her motives were treasonous.
"At a minimum, a personal apology and an explanation to the King. The latter is a formality to allow the King to take cognizance of the cause of my failure to secure the prisoner."
Venesch actually cracks a small smile at this point. It's an expression his face seems to have abandoned of late, and is unfamiliar with. "If the Lady Robin offers to recapture the prisoner, that would also go quite a way towards making amends with the King, whose best interests I have at heart."
Jerod chuckles at his old mentor's comments. "Then I will do my utmost to put forward your last request to her. You never know."
Venesch nods. "Thank you, my Prince. You are a credit to your father's memory."
Gilt Winter walks out with Robin. "Lady, are you familiar with the customs of Amber in this regard? Most importantly, you will need a second. They are your advocate and arranger of details and, should you be unable to duel, your substitute."
Robin smiles wryly to Gilt as they step out into the courtyard again. "I'm not familiar with the customs of Amber in most regards, let alone this one. But I figure I can wing it."
Once away from the building, she stops and croons to her little lovelies. Oh, they did so good. Robin's very, very proud of them. She nuzzles Peep, strokes Chirrup and gives Ooot a fond thump. Now they can be themselves. She releases her little friends back to the sky and their own ways with sparkling green eyes.
"Soooo," she says, scratching her chin contemplatively, "a second, hunh? Probably should be someone who's already in town. Who's in town?" Robin finishes with a smile.
"A number of your cousins and uncles have arrived for Cambina's funeral. Conner and Brennan are here, the Lady Brita, the newcomer Silhouette, Ossian, Prince Bleys and Lady Brij, Lilly, Prince Gerard, of course, and Princess Fiona. Arrivals happen frequently by informal means, but I think the list is reasonably complete.
He pauses. "Unless you were looking for someone outside of your family." He pauses. "I would recommend someone of your rank or higher, it is the custom."
"Yeah." Robin nods thoughtfully. "Especially with the possibility of Jerod stepping into the fray. Well, since Vere's not on the list," a small pout dashes across her face, "I'd love it if Brita could give me a hand with this. Thanks.
"Oh and where's my horse?" Robin looks around the courtyard. "It's got Venesch's gear on it. Especially his sword. Whiiiiich I'll bet is pretty important to him." She ticks her tongue in disgruntlement.
Gilt glances across the courtyard and gestures towards a long outbuilding by the lake. "In the stables. When they bring it to the palace, I'll have them send it to Venesch."
"Thank you." Robin nods.
He walks on a bit. "Lady Robin, it is assumed that you will have no trouble beating and possibly even humiliating Venesch, who is old and, frankly, not the child of Prince Julian of Amber. What shall I tell the King of your intentions?"
Robin glances at Gilt in surprise from where she walks alongside him. She thought she'd said. But then, she also said she didn't know the customs of Amber. So maybe this was just another log to jump.
"Weeeell, my intentions are to pink Venesch without getting pinked in return." A wry smile dances across her face. A daughter of Prince Julian she may be, but Robin bets that Venesch's got her in craftiness. "Then make my apologies." Her smile vanishes.
"I've got no desire to humiliate Venesch for all he's the..." her green eyes wander as she counts, "third most annoying man I've ever met.
"Gilt? Are there other things I should do before this duel? Am I supposed to talk to Brita or you?"
"You should talk to Brita. A second is supposed to be a confidant of the duelist who ensures fair-play and can step in if needed.
"Also, your second and Venesch's second make all the arrangements. This is because you and Venesch are not supposed to talk until the matter is resolved."
He holds up his hand. "I, as a representative of the King, have no position or authority other than any he assigns me. His Majesty may have additional requirements, which is why I am trying to gather adequate information regarding your intentions."
Robin takes all that in with a nod of understanding and thanks.
Gilt pauses at a path that leads towards the palace. "Are you coming inside, Lady Robin?"
The Ranger smiles wryly. She never was too subtle about her issues with Amber Castle. But here? Robin cocks her head for a moment, taking in Xanadu's syncopated nascent beat. Not her style but something she can dance to.
"Reckon so." She says with a nod.
Once inside she'll ask Gilt if she can get on the King's docket to make her Regent-ordered report, thank the man again and look for a page that can direct her to Brita.
Gilt nods. "I'll let him know that you need to speak to him." He turns to a young girl by the entrance. "Plait, please help Lady Robin find Lady Brita." The girl curtseys and smiles. "This way, Lady." She turns and walks down a hall.
Robin smiles back to the girl and follows her off down the hall, showing none of the bewilderment that Amber Castle typically bestows upon her.
Plait seems to know exactly where she is going. She quickly leads Robin down a small hallway to the left of the palace entrance. The hall curves slightly and, after a few minutes of walking, ends in a solid wooden door, elegantly carved with trees and flowers. Opening the door, Plait waves Robin in.
"Thank you, Plait," Robin says as she steps through the door, lingering a moment tp admire the way the carving moves through the wood-grain.
Robin steps into a circular chamber - apparently the base of one of the palace towers. Across from the door she entered is an archway leading out to a small garden which reminds Robin of a colored, living version of the carving on the door. To the right is a narrow stairway that curls up into the dimness above. She can see Brita through the archway, going through the slow, stylized motions of the meditation rituals that Robin has seen her perform before when with the Rangers. It is oddly quiet here - perhaps a trick of the cave wall arching above. Not even the distant waterfall's roar climbs over this garden's walls.
"Mmmmmm...." Robin hums in a satisfied undertone to herself. Quiet is nice, restful. It's been a long... week? A long time anyway. Shaking down her ruffled feathers, the girl skates along to the archway.
Not wanting to interrupt her Cousin, Robin waits there, arms crossed, leaning casually against the stone. It's not so bad in this young vibrant place but the Ranger still prefers the sun on her face and the wind in her hair to any civilized trappings one would care to name.
Robin notes that Brita is nearing the end of her movements. As she does so, she turns to face the door and with the last glide bows to Robin. "Cousin Robin," she says with a smile, "Well Met. You have Found Xanadu's little Haven. Do You Need to Speak with Me?" Brita knows Robin would not necessarily be wandering indoors without some purpose, but she could have scented out the garden quickly if forced to be indoors for some other reason.
"Cousin." Robin smiles as she straightens, pleased as much by Brita's company as by the lack of poison welling up within herself. "I was looking for you. The haven just makes it all the better."
Robin flutters out into the garden and looks around with curious glimmering eyes, making sure they are alone before ducking her head bashfully toward Brita. "I, uh, did need to speak with you. I need to ask a favor." The girl grimaces as she feels her tongue start to tie up. She pushes her words forward in a rush in the hopes of heading off the stuttering. Or the stammering. Or the wild jargon.
"WouldyoubemysecondinahonorduelagainstVenesch? Firstbloodonly? Please?" As the sound of her own voice reaches Robin's ears, she wrinkles her nose in distaste. Maybe that wasn't better than stuttering, stammering or wild jargon.
Brita is very still for several heartbeats as she processes the stream. "Duel? Captain Venesh Dishonored You??" Brita is obviously having a bit of issue with the thought, but she quickly shakes it off. "Of Course. Of Course, I will Be Your Shield Bearer. Tell me What he Did to Dishonor You that you would Challenge Him to Holmgang?"
Robin cocks her head, gratified and delighted by Brita's response as well as confused by her words. Ah well, it was Brita's understanding of the honor stuff that led her here in the first place. She was just going to have to trust (gulp, that word!) Brita and try to explain as best as she could.
"Thank you, Brita." She ducks her head again as her face colors. "I... I'll try to answer your questions. But please, please understand that I really... don't know what I'm talking about. Duels. And honor. And all of this is just... foreign to me." She flaps a frustrated hand.
"Soooo, Captain Venesch dishonored me? Iiiii... gueeeesss so. I mean, I know that's what he was trying to do when he loudly called me a traitor in the courtyard a few moments ago. Personally," Robin shrugs, "while that kind of pisses me off, it's not something I'm going to kill anyone over or anything. A trapped and hurting animal will naturally claw at its rescuer. Oh wait! Scratch that. Venesch doesn't like being compared to animals. But anyway, I figure that's what he was doing. So I'm not terribly mad about it.
"Esssspecially since Venesch explained in the Judgment with Prince Garrett that he needed to insult me pretty heftily so that... a duel could be... fought to, uh, balance... the insult I made to him earlier. Right. I think that's right. Ssssssooooo, actually he's the challenger and I'm the defender."
Robin looks up at Brita with worried eyes. "Did you still want to second me knowing that?"
"Of Course." Brita responds instantly. "I Understand how His Insult would Not insult You. You Said he was Trying to Instigate a Duel with You. Why would he Do That? What Insult did You Give?"
"Ummmm..." Robin thinks about it carefully. "I think there were two -- one actual and one implicit. The actual one Venesch was pretty clear about. I saved his life but was... ungentle and rude about it. And since he didn't want me to save his life, his nose is out of joint. He says I treated a soldier of the King like a beast of burden instead of a grown man responsible for his own actions. Hence the treason call out."
Robin shrugs. "I guess I can understand that. I'd be pissed too.
"See. After that rather exciting dinner in Amber? When I climbed out the window?" Robin checks with Brita to make sure she remembers. "Well, when I got down to the garden, Venesch was there starting some kind of ritual. It didn't feel... right so I interrupted him and asked him what he was up to.
"Heeeee said..." Robin's brow furrows as she has trouble understanding even in retrospect, "that he had dishonored his sword beeeecause he had allowed an important prisoner -- Huon -- to escape and the Regent -- fucking Caine -- had accepted his resignation so none of the rest Family would have him -- which isn't true -- and that the best thing he could do for his own family and their allies was to off himself -- which is just plain stupid.
"You remember I wasn't too articulate that night? Well, I tried to talk him out of it. To offer him other options. To sympathize with his pain. To explain some little of the Family's various dynamics. But he wasn't having any of it. Sssssoooooo, I hit him. Knocked him out. And drug him here to Xanadu against his will."
Robin shrugs. "Okay, so that was the actual insult. Which I'm not sorry for. And would do again. But if fighting a duel with Venesch helps him live and stay in the King's service? Okay, I'll fight a duel." She shrugs again, whatever it takes.
"The other insult? The implicit one? Oh, Deep Green, Brita." Robin's teeth clench. "I get so mad. I, grrrrr... insufferable, arrogant fucktards! Gaaaahhh, ack! And then Venesch gets caught in the middle! And... somehow, it's supposedly all MY fault! Safer, I suppose to pretend that I'm omniscient than to task the fucking Regent... Or take responsibility for their own idiocy..." Robin squawks angrily and begins to pace in agitation, her shoulders mantling, her fists clenching. "And then the Prince! What the hell?!?
"And now... and now... I have to apologize!!! To Venesch. In order for him to live."
Robin turns wet green eyes. "Oh, Brita... it's so wrong. And it hurts so much. But... but... but..." Robin shakes her head sadly and sighs. "But I will. Goddamn, that man is high maintenance."
She ruffles sadly and looks over to her cousin.
"Men," Brita says succinctly. "They Act like Little Boys when they Do Not get Their way."
Robin rolls her eyes and nods emphatically. She can.t imagine Paige or Lilly or Folly acting like that.
[Brita] takes a deep breath. "I Understand Captain Venesch's Issue with Honor over the Loss of Uncle Huon. Master Ngyen explained how Honor was So Important to His People that they would Die rather than Deal with it. He Could have Pledged to Regain his Lost Prisoner instead of Attempting to Kill Himself. It will Not do Former Reality Amber or Reality Xanadu any Good to Lose One of Skill and Wisdom over Something that can be Remedied." She nods firmly. "You did Right to Stop Him."
Robin's green eyes tear up as the stress leaves her shoulders. "Thank you, Brita. I was... beginning to think that everybody was mad at me. I really appreciate it."
Brita clasps Robin's shoulder and looks straight into her eyes as she adds "And, while You May have Made a Mistake, you are Not Totally at Fault for Uncle Huon's Escape. You Were Trying."
"Uhhh..." Robin drops her eyes, "Brita? I haven't made my report to the King. And I'm all... 'grrrrr-arrgh' right now. Hard to talk about Huon. But I didn't 'make a mistake'. I knew what I was doing. Knew the risk. Acceptable. Free my sword. Fight for my Family's lives. Only Dragon-knowing person there. Couldn't abandon them. Even now knowing he was Pattern-breaker, might still choose so again. Revenge is never worth more loss." She pats Brita's hand where it holds her shoulder, hoping her martial cousin will understand.
Brita just says, "Exactly. Family - even Uncle Huon. You Knew the Acadian Dragon Best."
Brita straightens and paces away a bit. "As to the Apology, you Said you Understand Captain Venesch's reactions to the Halting of his Honor Death. Would you Apologize for the Way you Handled the situation? Sincerely?"
"Yep." Robin nods firmly. "Still can't think of what I could've done better. But that's my limit, not his. Can I get help with the words though?" Robin waves at her mouth, smiling wryly. "Don't want to make it worse but apologizing wrong."
"We can Ask my Brother." Brita smiles with obvious joy at the thought of her brother. "He is Good with Words.
"If Conner would help, that'd be great!" Robin nods, smiling herself as she remembers their discussion at the Masquerade
[Brita] turns back, "And What would you Ask of Him in Return?"
"In return?" Robin looks bewildered. "I want him to live and stay in the service of the King. That's all I ever wanted. Iiiiitttt... might be nice not to be labeled a traitor by the former Captain of Amber's Guard, but if he's not up to that, I'll survive." She shrugs.
Brita nods. "So, Do you Know who is Captain Venesch's Shield Bearer? I think I must Talk to Him or Her."
"Jeord." Robin grumps. "I'm glad he and Venesch are together. But..." She wrinkles her nose and sticks out her tongue at the thought of 'what collateral damage?' FitzEric.
Brita smiles slightly at Robin's reaction. "It Could have been An Elder. Cousin Jerod is at Least Somewhat Reasonable. I will Go Talk to Him now. Perhaps the Duel Would Not be Necessary if We can come to an Agreement. However, I Will talk to My Brother about Words." She smiles again. "Where will you Wait while I Speak with our Cousin?"
"Kitchen." Robin's response is immediate. "Me and the lizards need to eat." She grins.
"Brita? Thank you. Thank you soooo very much!" Robin pounces on her cousin for a big hug.
Brita returns the hug and, when released, bids Robin and the "Little Dragons" a good repast as she heads out to track down Jerod.
Robin grins at the Little Dragon nomenclature and wishes Brita luck with Jerod. Then the girl bounces out of the courtyard, letting her nose lead her toward dinner.
Garrett speaks to no one after passing judgment on Venesch and Robin. He stalks through the castle, choosing a route that takes him to the salle through lesser-used corridors. The expression he wears resembles storm clouds before a particularly violent gale, sending any servants he happens to meet slinking off silently in the opposite direction.
Once in the salle, he selects a sword that's a bit heavier than he generally prefers, strips off his shirt, and launches into a vigorous workout, working the tension forcibly out of every muscle.
Some time in, he begins muttering to himself. "What right did you have?" he grumbles under his breath, stabbing hard at the practice dummy as punctuation. "What do you know about warriors? Stories and tales and legends." He stabs again and darts away with rapid, practiced footwork. "You're a child. Kill a man in battle and you're ready to puke," he chides himself viciously.
Thwump. Another blow strikes the dummy.
Conner arrives at the salle with a more pensive frame of mind. As it was quite likely that he would become the bearer of one of the most important swords in the cosmos, Conner had been focusing more on his sword drills than ever before. Conner watches Garrett beat on the dummy as Conner carefully folds his shirt, places it on the floor and selects the same blade he has been practicing with, as close to a replica of the Paxblade as he could find.
"Well I'm no expert," Conner comments, "but I don't think he'll ever bother you again." Conner grins at his cousin. "Care for a livelier opponent?"
"Oh. Lord Conner," Garrett gasps, apparently having been in deep concentration. His cheeks flush from what Conner suspects is more embarrassment than exertion. He shifts his sword to his other hand and wipes his sweaty palm on his trousers. Rather than offering it though, he returns the sword to its proper hand.
"That would be good, yes. He, um, doesn't put up much of a fight," the young prince quips with a nod toward the battered dummy.
"I should worry greatly if he did, Highness." Conner chuckles back. "Come then. I've been fighting mostly underwater these days and need to refresh my air technique." Conner brings his blade forward and salutes with it before dropping into a defensive posture. Conner's current technique emphasizes thrusting over swinging cuts. He probes Garrett's defenses to see what kind of skills the young prince has picked up.
Garrett returns the salute and begins to fence. His opening moves are tentative, probing to gauge Conner's style. He grins good-naturedly at his opponent's successes, occasionally trying to emulate maneuvers that pique his interest. The young prince is quick on his feet and deft with his wrists, but Conner recognizes the studiousness of one who is in the early stages of training. His moves are like those out of a textbook, lacking the signatures of an individual style. Still, Conner can tell even now that Garrett has the potential to be a good swordsman with a few more decades of practice. He learns quickly and is tireless.
As the men engage in their conversation of blades, a dark-haired woman enters the salle as quiet as cat's feet on silk. Perhaps in her late twenties, she wears a black unitard that hugs her slender form -- providing the illusion of obsidian nudity. A diaphanous skirt of russet and goldwork offers her some modesty. She pauses long enough to regard the men with a reptilian interest before sauntering toward the line of practice weapons.
"Conner," Garrett says quietly, nodding toward the newcomer between blade strokes. "You know her?"
Conner sidesteps around Garrett as they fence so he can look in the direction of the mystery lady. "No." Conner draws out the word. "New family or yet another of your father's Texorami anchors at a guess. Something in her manner suggests the former is closer to the truth. Let's find out shall we?" Conner steps back from their contest and pivots to face the Lady in Black. "Is their anything we can help you with, lady?" Conner calls out. "If you are looking for a sparring partner, I am sure either of us would be happy to oblige."
Silhouette wrinkles her nose as she examines the collection of blades. But the disappointment transforms to curiosity when she hears Conner addressing her. "Do either of you gentlemen study La Verdadera Destreza, perhaps?" she says, stepping toward them. "I have been neglecting myself these last days and a sparring match would be most invigorating."
Her forest-shadow eyes drift from Connor to Garrett and back again. "I am the Lady Silhouette." She curtsies, using the opportunity to smooth out her skirt.
"I am Lord Conner," Conner bows slightly towards Silhouette and then sweeps out an arm towards Garret, "and this is his Highness, Prince Garrett of Xanadu." Conner smiles broadly at them both. "As for La Destreza, I have have favored the Agrippan school over it though lately I have been seeking the Way of Water." Conner chuckles. "Regardless it is always good to test oneself against unfamiliar styles. It is the only way to temper one's own."
Garrett grins at Conner's veiled reference to Rebma. "Indeed," he agrees.
"Then this meeting is most fortuitous, cousin. Or should I say cousins?" Silhouette replies, glancing questioningly at Connor. "May we impart Knowledge upon each other this day."
The prince nods pleasantly to Silhouette. Even if Conner had not introduced him, Silhouette could have made out the family resemblance. Garrett appears to be almost as young as her page. His build is slight like his father's, but his wiry shoulders and arms are well-muscled and tanned. He also has his father's narrow chin and bright blue eyes. Instead of being blond, his hair is dark brown but no less unruly. "You're new to Xanadu," he says. It's not quite a question.
Silhouette's gaze lingers on Garrett's features for a moment, approving. A shy smile warms her features at his question. "You are correct, my Prince. My current obligations to the Lord Huon have brought me here. This journey has been one of both wonders and sorrows."
Garrett's eyebrow arches dubiously. "Huon?" he repeats warily, shooting a glance at Conner.
Conner's smile freezes in place for a moment. "And what, pray tell, are your obligations to Huon of the Horn?" Conner inquires. His grip on the blade he holds tightens.
Silhouette's expression remains immutable. "I am his emissary," she says. "At the moment, I am negotiating an amiable cessation of hostilities and Lord Huon's eventual surrender into King Random's custody. I fear I cannot discuss the terms of this agreement. I'm sure you understand."
Her head tilts with falconine inquisitiveness. "Were either of you involved in the recent conflict with his Lordship, perhaps?"
With a look, Garrett leaves Conner to field that one.
"You could say that, yes." Conner lets a thin smile grow across his face. "I think a fuller introduction is in order. I am Conner, son of Fiona and General of the Seaward Expeditionary Force of Queen Khela of Rebma. I am a primary reason your principal failed in his objectives. I am part of a small but vocal faction of the family currently negotiating to hunt Huon down and stick his head on a pike as a warning to future generations that there are some things you simply must not do." Conner smiles wider at the thought. "I suggest choosing a weapon, Lady of Shadows. We are going to be sparring often in the coming days and I see no reason not to start right now."
"Lady of Shadows. I rather like that," she chuckles sweetly.
"Yes. You and I have much to speak of, Connor, son of Fiona," Silhouette says in a pleased tone. "And a conversation of blades shall serve as a delightful beginning to our continued intercourse."
She excuses herself long enough to choose an acceptable sword and dagger pairing from the practice wall. Satisfied, she strolls into the center of the room and tests the sword's eight with a rapid succession of estocadas, tajos, and reveses. After placing a reverent kiss upon the blade, Silhouette settles into an off-line stance. "Shall we begin, cousin?"
When Silhouette moves to chose a dagger, Conner strides over to the clothes he removed and picks up his cape of dark green. He settles it over his left arm with a comfortable grip.
Garrett grip tightens on his blade though he does not draw on either of the combatants. Instead, he takes up a position halfway between them but out of their way. "She's an Ambassador, Lord Conner," Garrett warns. "Let's not end the negotiations here." From his stance, they can tell he's willing to let them spar, but is ready to put a stop to it if it gets out of hand.
"You may be unaware of this Highness, but I was a member of Amber's Diplomatic Corps for many years." Conner replies easily. "I appreciated not being killed by foreign powers for unpleasant messages and I shall extend to the Lady the same courtesy." Conner takes an on line stance and salutes Silhouette with his sword. "We shall." Conner begins with a flurry of lunges and thrusts designed to test his opponent's speed and footwork.
Technically, Silhouette's utilization of the Destreza hallmarks is impressive -- almost flawless. A textbook student of The True Art. But despite her perfect form, it becomes immediately apparent that she lacks Connor's finesse and adaptability. Her attempts to counter his initial tests -- while successful -- are hard fought and rob her of any opportunities to alter the fight's momentum. He pushes her around the circle with relative ease, but she does not appear ready to submit.
And, to her credit, she does not so much as flinch when he scores a solid hit across the knuckles of her dagger-hand. Nor does she grow fatigued, in spite of the obvious exertion being placed upon her. She only smiles, "You impress me, cousin. I fear I shall not provide you with much of a challenge this day. My apologies."
"No need to apologize, my dear." Conner says easily. "This was just what I needed today." Conner grins. Conner makes a note to thank his mother, yet again, for the contents of his Training Room as a child. Silhouette's fighting style was so by the book that Conner could overlay the diagrams of his youth over her moves and know where she was going next.
"Cousin?" Garrett pipes up from the sidelines. He has been following the fight attentively, keeping himself in good position to both step in if needed and view new techniques to try out later. "Whose daughter are you?" he asks. Based on her endurance, Garrett already reckoned she was Family of some sort.
Silhouette remains silent apart from the whistling of her blade and the shuffle of her feet.
"Oh now that is an interesting question." Conner approves. "It is so tempting to guess based on available data though, isn't it, Highness?" Conner pauses to parry an overhand cut and riposte. "Assuming a known child, her level of skill shown here would argue against Benedict for a parent. Corwin might let a lady achieve a moderate level and be satisfied but you lack the Faiellan features. Similarly, you lack the red hair of a Clarissan though my sister arrived as a blond so that is not definitive." Conner takes a moment to consider the next likely parentage and for a moment his blade slides off line.
In that moment, Silhouette lunges forward to bind Conner's blade and Conner's blade snaps back into position. His blade forces hers to the side and Conner brings his cape down on it hard to entangle it. The flat of his blade slaps down on Silhouette's sword hand and her sword and his cape drop to the floor. "So, now that you not otherwise occupied, will you satisfy our curiosity?" Conner smiles.
Conner's trap catches Silhouette completely off-guard. Out of position, she cannot even turn to defend herself with her dagger. A crimson droplet falls from its hilt, as if in confirmation of her defeat -- the thin line of Conner's previous touch blooming scarlet beads.
"Well played, Lord Connor. Thank you for providing me with Enlightenment today. If you allow me a moment's grace, I shall disclose my lineage to you both," Silhouette says, surrendering her dagger to Connor. She glances over at Garrett, "Your Highness, might I trouble you for bandage or cloth, as well as a lit candle?"
The purpose of the cloth is obvious, but the request for the lit candle piques Garrett's curiosity. In this marvel of an electrically-powered castle, finding one might take some scrounging though. Garrett nods and goes off to look as Silhouette continues.
She cradles her wounded hand and retreats to a nearby bench. "My mother is the Princess Florimel -- not that she would admit such. She is under the erroneous impression that I am a doppelganger spawned by Lord Huon."
Garrett pauses in his search to listen to that tidbit, then continues to hunt.
"Well if you were such, your beliefs would be the same. That's the trouble really." Conner observes. "Let me see your hand, Lady. Among my many titles is physician and Xanadu allows for medicine that Amber lacked." Conner sits next to Silhouette and holds his hand for hers. "Were you intending to use hot wax to cauterize your wound or does the candle have a more obscure purpose?" Conner asks.
"I would not risk infection by utilizing the wax in such a manner," Silhouette says, allowing Connor to examine the wound. "It is the flame I seek, as I am unfamiliar with the sterilizing agents in this world. But if you are a physician, perhaps that shall not be necessary." She smiles faintly at him.
"Thank you for your kindness, Lord Connor."
"Whenever circumstances allow, I like to heal what I've harmed." Conner replies easily. "It seems a shallow cut and it bleeds cleanly. My last visit to the infirmary was brief but it should have bandages and antibiotic creams that will serve the purpose."
Silhouette gives a pleased laugh, "I forget the technological paradigms here differ from where I originate. Salves and herbs are more familiar to me. I place myself into your care."
She tilts her head, disquiet coloring her eyes. "Tell me, Connor. Will the remainder of my family treat me with the compassion exhibited by Prince Garret and yourself? Or should I expect my mother's reaction to be more commonly duplicated?"
"It'll be a mix," Garrett states, returning with a towel, a pack of matches and a used ashtray to put the spent matches in. "Some of the more militant of our cousins will want your head on a pike. If my father has begun negotiations with you though, they'll have to hold their horses."
He sets the matches and ashtray down and takes her hand. He wraps the towel around the wound securely and bends her elbow, positioning her hand at shoulder height. "Here. Put pressure on it and keep your hand up for a bit." When she is settled, he continues.
"I reckon most of the others will be too curious about you to do much damage before they get your story. We're funny like that," he smirks.
Silhouette allows Garrett to care for her, remaining silent throughout. Her lips curl with amusement at his final comment. "Thank you, your Highness. Instead of the matches, I shall utilize the medicinal items Lord Connor suggested. Forgive me for the inconvenience I've caused you."
"His Highness has the right of it." Conner confirms. "I have been too long a diplomat to withhold common courtesy from the opposing side. Besides, if you are truly of our bloodline, then you will still be around long after this incident with Huon is past. No harm in taking the long view of things. Why have you chosen to walk such a hard path, Lady? You had to know you would be walking into the lion's den."
"Of course. I was made aware of the potential risks involved in this negotiation," Silhouette says. She straightens with pride. "However, I am a Preceptor. Until my current duties to Lord Huon conclude, I shall serve him as required by our covenant. Surely you understand this."
"In theory," Garrett replies. "What are the particulars of the covenant?"
Silhouette casts a guarded look over at Connor and then back to Garrett. Her expression softens into one of deference. "Your Highness, as your station requires that I speak, I shall hope Lord Connor will be discreet in this matter.
"Lord Huon requested that I negotiate a mutually favorable reconciliation -- offering his capitulation to your father's rule. He seeks amnesty and to be reunited with his family -- and avoid further bloodshed. To that point, I shall settle the ancient Vendetta with his brother, Lord Bleys -- utilizing your father's influence to solidify a lasting peace. At the moment, the negotiations are proceeding well, but have been delayed until after the Royal funerals.
"Once these matters are at an end, my covenant with Lord Huon shall be dissolved. I intend to enter into your father's service at that time -- if he will allow me that honor."
"You may rely on my discretion in this matter." Conner assures her. "I will confess a curiosity as to how you found yourself in the service of Huon in the first place. It is an interesting coincidence for unknown family members to have found each other." Conner adds.
Garrett nods, also interested in that information.
A lazy smile curls Silhouette's lips. "Initially, Lord Huon sought me out for my expertise as an artificer -- offering to exceed my standard remuneration. Our relationship grew from there; once he discovered my skills extended beyond engineering and metalwork. He hid our familial relation until much of our business had concluded. He only revealed this association just before launching his assault on Rebma." She checks on her wounded hand, nodding with satisfaction before adding, "The King suspects Lord Huon may have arranged for my family's murder and my subsequent slavery in order to position me in his path. It is an intriguing hypothesis."
The young prince cocks his head with interest. "Is there any basis to support it, if you think back? Any clues that you might not have noticed before, but make sense in that light?" Garrett asks.
Conner is also interested but waits to hear Sil's answer before saying more.
"I fear my memories of that dark time are polluted by an eleven-year old's terror," Silhouette replies humbly. "However, I find it unlikely that he would have allowed his 'pawn' to die thusly; not so early in the game. And I highly doubt he recognized my affinity with the Phoenix. He is wise, but not omniscient.
"That said, I believe my attempted assassination may have occurred to undermine my mother's mental state. The death of a child can cause confusion and anxiety in most, to be certain. This would not be beyond my lordship. But to what end...?" She shrugs.
"That would require knowledge of the time that I am afraid we lack." Conner admits regretfully. "What do you mean by your affinity with the Phoenix?" Conner asks. "I know of the creature from myth but your use of the term."
Silhouette straightens, her gaze growing distant. "Then you understand more than you believe, Lord Connor. My family and I were burned alive. Yet only I remain." Her eyes meet his for a moment, yet the distance remains.
She sighs, "Forgive me, gentleman. As you might imagine, it is not a time I speak of with any frequency."
"Understood," Garrett says gently, ending that line of questioning.
Conner decides not to press the issue.
His expression turns thoughtful. "I wonder though... while it's not unheard of for one of our kind to... groom... a younger, unsuspecting prospect, I've also heard that those of the Blood tend to... attract... each other, for lack of a better word. It was explained to me as if you held a bedsheet tight and dropped a marble into it. The weight would cause a depression that would make any other marbles roll right to it. If Huon was searching Shadow for an artificer, would he not be drawn to one of the Blood over one who was not?" The young prince addresses this to Conner more than Silhouette.
Silhouette stares at the young man for a moment -- a wistful smile touching her lips. It is as if Garrett has just recited an exquisite love poem.
"That is indeed possible, especially if you had been living and working in that Shadow for many years." Conner confirms. "Of course, Shadow is a large place. Corwin stayed in one Shadow for centuries when he was lost yet most of his siblings could not find him even when deliberately searching. It would seem there is only one that would know for sure and I suspect he will not enlighten us unless he sees some advantage in it."
Silhouette breaks her gaze from Garrett, turning back to Connor. "Oh? And who might that be? I understand the need for commerce and shall willingly provide compensation for this person's information." She casually checks on her wound and notices it has stopped bleeding.
"I was referring to Huon himself." Conner explains. "It would seem that you have been quite useful to him yet he has only seen fit to offer dribs and drabs about the wider family. Besides, if the nastier of our conjectures are true, he is unlikely to admit it. Now, if you were truly interested in uncovering the truth of the past, you might have the option of sorcerous scrying but success on that route would be highly variable and would depend on the skill of the practitioner, how much time had passed, and the nature of the shadow where this all occurred."
Silhouette nods, "I shall take your words under advisement, Lord Connor. The Preceptor must gaze forward, as to dwell on the past only invites Stagnation. But we must also learn from what went before, lest we unnecessarily introduce error into the Grand Design. Even so, the negotiations must be concluded before I investigate this possibility further. I cannot allow a personal tragedy to disrupt my Duty."
She blushes softly, "Now, I fear I am holding you from your practice, my Lord and Prince. Forgive me."
"Not so fast," Garrett interjects with a playful smirk. "I haven't had my turn with the new opponent yet. My Lady, may I have the honor?" He rises and salutes. "I'll go easy if your hand is still sore."
Silhouette returns the smile, "Of course, My Prince. The honor will be mine." She sets the makeshift bandage beside her and stands. "With your permission, I shall fight with sword alone so you may refrain from holding back."
Her eyes fall on Connor, "Will you score us, milord?"
"Of course." Conner nods and steps back to give them room to maneuver. He holds his sword point down but ready for use. "You may begin."
Garrett nods in acknowledgment and opens with a tentative attack designed to test Silhouette's injury without causing more harm. As he continues working, Silhouette can tell the lad is making mental notes of how her sore hand is changing her performance from the work he observed her doing against Lord Conner.
The young prince is obviously still a beginner. He has the same sort of textbook maneuvering that Silhouette demonstrated, but in a somewhat different style. Once he settles into a rhythm, however, his attacks grow bolder and faster. When she attacks, Silhouette finds that Garrett is quick on his feet and does not tire easily.
Despite her injury, Silhouette's control remains impressive -- now utilizing the single arm extension and straight body line to maximize reach and reduce her target area. She rarely incites an exchange; instead, forcing Garrett to risk an advance and then countering in a flurry of downward cuts and thrusts. This rather conventional -- and unwavering -- bladework provides excellent training for someone still learning the True Art. And she, like Garrett, does not appear to tire easily.
The conversation continues much longer than the initial match -- several scores being traded between them, more than enough to keep Connor counting.
In time, the momentum begins to turn in Garrett's favor. But when he ventures too close, Silhouette utilizes an atajo [bind] to gain control and then pushes him back with a strength surprising for her delicate frame. As Garrett attempts to recover, the tip of her foil comes streaking at his face like an arrow. Without her immaculate control, Silhouette's thin blade would have slipped through his right eye. Instead, it brushes his hair aside with an unnerving whir.
She retreats like a pantheress, resuming her circular stalking pattern. "When utilizing weapons such as the foil or épée, you must always remember that even a thick wool coat can turn the blade and ruin a killing thrust. The eyes and throat, however, are rarely protected and as such should be your main targets despite their small target area."
She drops her guard, "However, I should concede the match to you. Your ability to adapt is... exhilarating."
Garrett grins widely. "Well fought, my lady. Thank you."
"The pleasure is mine, milord," Silhouette replies, bowing her head. "I hope we might engage in another conversation of blades at a later time."
"His Highness has great potential." Conner agrees. "He also has the advantage of a castle full of different styles to test himself against. Did I hear right that you've hired one from the Land of Peace as a trainer?" Conner looks over to Sil. "The Dar Es Salaam is a land my uncle visited and that I have had occasion to visit. I like to keep up on news of their people."
"Not so much 'hired' as 'assigned to keep out of trouble', but yeah, Abd-allah has been working with me. He's a wealth of knowledge and a right proper challenge," Garrett smiles, putting away his sword as he speaks. "I haven't had the opportunity to learn much about him personally though. Events have conspired to keep us in separate shadows until recently."
Silhouette retires her sword and then seats herself near Connor. She listens intently to the discussion, intrigued by the mention of other Shadows.
"I will admit to curiosity as to any from the Land of Peace found their way here." Conner comments. "Either one of the family brought them or they are part of the natural influx that Xanadu is experiencing. Either option is rather interesting."
"Abd-allah was part of the influx, I believe," Garrett volunteers. "From what I heard about his entrance, I reckon that was part of the problem. He promptly got into... hey, wait." Garrett's eyes light up as two important pieces of information visibly click into place.
"He ended up with me because upon his arrival, he tried to kill Edan. I never made the connection until now, but perhaps he followed in Edan's wake to arrive here. I've heard it can happen that way."
Not recognizing the names mentioned, Silhouette remains silent but attentive.
"That would be odd seeing how they would have gotten here first in order to ambush him in the market." Conner observes. Then he turns to Sil. "I hope we aren't boring you with all this talk of people you don't know. Professional hazard in this family with so much time away pursuing our own interests."
"Hardly," Silhouette replies honestly. "I find this conversation most intriguing. It provides me further insight into the matters of family and of Amber. Knowledge is as precious as coin to the Preceptor." She smiles softly. "Pray continue."
"To the Preceptor?" Conner reflects. "Are you the guardian of an order's ways and knowledge then, Lady? An important position to be sure."
"I am a Preceptor of The Grand Design," she replies plainly. "I serve it faithfully and pay homage to all of its incarnations; be that the Maiden of Gears, the Father Builder, or the Demiurge. My 'importance' is both vital and irrelevant, for all people in Creation serve the Grand Design in one manner or another.
"What is important is that Knowledge fuels the forge of Progress. And without the flames of Progress, our burdens are for naught."
"You speak of forges and flames. Are you a smith then? What sort of weapons did Huon approach you for?" Garrett asks. The way he asks the question, he seems to have a specific answer in mind.
Silhouette stares at Garrett for a moment, remaining mute on the subject. She finally relents, "Yes, my true vocation is that of a weapon-smith. It is a trade that I am renowned for on several shadows, which likely led Lord Huon to approach me. He commissioned me to outfit his army, including several shipments of ballistic weapons."
She tilts her head like a wolf hearing a distant prey-call. "Did you happen to see my armaments in action, my Prince? Did they operate in a suitable manner? I worried that the differing paradigms might interfere with their efficacy. Normally, I am able to observe and experiment prior to the design process."
"I think those questions would be better directed to me." Conner says coolly. "The rifles were your design then?"
"The rifles constituted the majority of the commission, yes," Silhouette replies. "I found the work quite exhilarating, as my usual clients request low-tech weaponry. Scorpions, crossbows, and the like."
Her smile brightens with innocent curiosity. "You witnessed their operation then, Lord Connor? May I ask how they performed in Rebma? That was the main field of engagement, was it not?"
"They did not perform in Rebma I am pleased to say." Conner replies. "An underwater environment is not friendly to most firearms and that assumes that they could function at all within the unique physical properties of Rebma. They were not used in the battle to my knowledge."
Conner pauses a moment. "I do have it on good authority that they enabled the subjugation of Shadow Abford, a place Huon chose as a staging ground and recruitment center for his troops. It is also the home of our cousin Meg who was none too pleased to find her home invaded and her sons carted off to fight in a war." Conner advises her. "I confess to be more curious where Huon obtained his metaphysical weaponry. Does your home offer such things for hire as well?"
"Of that, I cannot say; although the possibility does exist, I'm sure," Silhouettes states simply.
She smooths her skirt, "Will accounts of Abford Campaign be made available? I would definitely enjoy the opportunity to review them. I'm afraid Lord Huon remained somewhat reticent about the entire affair whilst I nursed him back to health. Undoubtedly shamed by his defeat. He is a prideful man, after all."
A musical laugh touches her lips, "You must be one of the nephews of whom he spoke."
"I do hope remembrance of me puts him in a foul mood." Conner grins back. "It is a minor repayment for what he made us endure but one it would please me to have him pay." Conner leans back. "As for the Abford campaign, it is my understanding that no family but Huon was present to witness it. You could always question the Abford prisoners of war but that would require permission of the Rebma's Queen and the concurrence of Cousin Meg as one who claims the shadow in question as her own."
"Then might I draw upon your experience as a diplomat, Lord Conner?" Silhouette asks. "I am sure you could enlighten me upon Rebman protocol, so I might properly structure my request to the Queen. Perhaps over dinner one evening in the near future?"
A feline grin curls her lips, "You can regale me with your encounter with his lordship."
Garrett, having been a participant in neither of the battles in question, listens without comment. At this last request though, he seems to be stifling an amused smile as he waits for Conner's reply.
Conner matches her grin. "Provided you bring tales of your own to share, I think that an excellent idea." Conner replies. "A little quid pro quo over dinner is practically the family standard. Though I think you will need far more than proper protocol to sway sentiment down there."
"I can be very persuasive when I wish to, milord," Silhouette chuckles. The playful smile lingers for a moment. "So, come to my apartment and we shall dine and then drink deeply on wine and conversation. I believe the kitchens will be able to reproduce a suitable kotopoulo me pilafi for the occasion."
She stands up, regarding Garret. "And your highness, might we spar again with some regularity? I find the challenge most stimulating and it would be a perfect counterpoint to my climbing regimen."
Garrett chuckles. "I can do either, my lady. Sparring or climbing. Whatever your preference, it would be a pleasure. And Lord Conner," he says, turning in his direction, "thank you for the workout. I enjoy learning new styles." It's possible he might not be speaking entirely of swordplay. Diplomacy is a skill all its own.
Silhouette crosses the room and graces each man's cheek with a polite kiss. "My deepest thanks to you both," she says. "I shall cherish this day with you. And the many to come.
"May your paths lead you ever forward." Her hand makes a five-pointed gesture in the air; a blessing of some kind.
Last modified: 19 April 2010