Solange wakes to the crackle of paper. Kyril is sitting up in bed, reading a broadsheet. He looks over at Solange. "How do you people read such little, blotchy text? It's amazing anyone kept bothering."
"The guy that owns the printing press? His uncle's the optometrist." She closes her eyes again. "Anything in there about dead Rebmans?"
"No, that's old news. Now it's about 'live, angry Rebmans'." This is a pro-royalist paper. The Rebmans are creating a mountain out of a mole-hill in order to get trade concessions. They should marry off this Princess to some Prince, although not one of ours--or at least not a favored one. Then she'd shut up and not try to do politics that are clearly over her head." He's grinning, of course.
It certainly sounds like it from the tone of his voice. She opens an eye to verify.
"Oh, and you've been spotted in town, conferring with senior people at the Admiralty. The rumor is that their will be another expedition to 'the Promised Land'."
Solange snorts. "That was fast," she observes, pushing herself up from the bed to pad barefoot across the floor. "They must've been printing in the very wee hours last night. No wonder it's blotchy."
She pulls on her old Lauderville sweatshirt as she passes it on the chair and heads toward her wardrobe.
He watches her appreciatively as she gets half-dressed.
"I can see the story now," Solange continues as she opens the wardrobe door and rummages through her dresses. "Solemnia, daughter of Spear-Hard, leads a second expedition through storm after fateful storm to the Promised Land. Meanwhile, back at home, the harbor fills with bodies and man, the Rebmans are really pissed about that. Interview with Elder Germain following, where he professes his secret fetish for floating women and his penchant for fireplaces in tropical climes."
"Or it was intentionally planted by us, for values of us that don't include me at the decision-making end. This is a royalist newspaper."
"I'm not sure whether its mention will help or hinder me today, quite honestly," she replies.
He folds it and puts it down. "Elder Germaine was pretty creepy."
"Elder Germaine was pretty creepy," she agrees. "In all appearance a few cards short of a full deck. I'd like to talk to my brother about him, but they've moved all the trumps to Xanadu. We may end up going there later today.
"And I still want to check in with Father."
Solange pulls out two dresses and turns to look at Kyril. "Okay, getting yelled at by Rebmans this morning. What should I wear? The yellow or the blue?"
Both are full-length dresses with heavy skirts. The yellow is more formal, with gold thread embroidering the bodice. The blue is dark velvet, more understated and with less cleavage.
He tilts his head at and thinks for a moment. "Well, Rebman women are supposed to be like men, right? If it was a man, you'd go with the cleavage if you wanted something from him and he was in a position of more power and you thought it would help. However, Rebmans are women who generally like men, so it's like they're gay men, so you reverse that and use the cleavage if you're in the position of power. I hear their queen likes to receive people wearing a belt.
"My suggestion? Wear something that says 'we don't care what you think, but we'd like you to stop disturbing the neighbors.' I'd go with the Lauderdale sweatshirt and no pants, but you might compromise and wear that leather mini-skirt."
He smiles. "Any other ways I can be of no help?"
Solange laughs, her cheek dimpling. "You know, you really are quite discerning, Dr. Suon. I'm looking forward to hearing your commentary on my extended family."
He holds up a finger and opens his mouth, but shuts it as she continues.
"The blue," she continues, putting the yellow dress away. "I think 'demure' will go further today than 'assertive'."
Solange lays the blue dress across the chair where she picked up the sweatshirt and pads back over to the bed. She climbs up and crawls over to Kyril, stopping with her face a few inches from his own, well within his personal space.
"Interested in breakfast?" she asks, smiling.
"What would you like to eat?" he asks back.
Solange just smiles at him.
After breakfast Solange changes into the blue dress, arranges for a carriage ride and escort to the Rebman embassy, and goes forth to meet the Rebmans.
The Rebmans are very pleased that the Castle responded so promptly to this request from them. Her highness is ready to depart, and requires transport either to Rebma or to Xanadu.
Solange informs Her Highness that she is there to listen to her complaints comcerning the murdered Rebman, not provide a taxi service.
The Rebman functionary bristles, leaves, and returns with a new message. They would like you to tell Prince Caine that when Amber is ready to live up to their obligations regarding Her Highness, a suitable courtier should be sent.
Solange is not going to bother about trying to get the last word in. She rolls her eyes and leaves.
Solange returns to the castle and inquires if Caine is presently in. If so, she'll go find him to report. If not, she'll happily leave him a note.
The guard points to the stairs up to the castle's gate tower. Caine is above.
Interesting place for him to be. Perhaps he likes the view. Solange gathers her long skirts and climbs the stair.
Caine (or someone) has dragged a drafting table to the platform. He's looking over the city and the port from high above. The table has a drawing of the city on it, with a large number of tiny notes in the margins.
Caine is sitting at the table, adding to his notes.
"How did it go with the Rebmans?"
Solange's gaze flicks from the map to her uncle.
The notes are in more than one hand and seem to have to do with ship capacities.
"They sent a message to you, and I quote, 'When Amber is ready to live up to their obligations regarding Her Highness, a suitable courtier should be sent.' "
Caine's smile is razor-thin. "Lovely. I received a request from her after you'd left. I am tempted to get rid of her to shut her up. Send her to Corwin, let him deal with her in Paris. You're not going to Paris, are you?"
"Not in my short term plans, no," Solange smiles. "I'm sorry things went badly. Is there anything else? If not, I'm going to leave for Xanadu today."
He looks down at his papers, nodding. "How many ships will you be able to lead there?"
Solange pauses, considering. She was hoping to go through by trump, but she did offer to help. "Three. I want to get there as soon as possible."
Caine nods. "Nightwind, Brazoria, and Swift should be ready on the evening tide." He marks off three ships on his paper. He looks back up. "Anything else?"
That was about as clear of a dismissal as Solange could hope to get. "Nope," she replies. She pauses, wondering if there's something else she should say, but when nothing comes to mind she nods a goodbye and retreats back down the stairs.
Solange walks back to her rooms to inform Kyril of the change in plans, and to find a servant and start the servant packing for them.
The next morning after his weapons training, Garrett tells Abdallah to clean up and gather his things for another attempt at departing for Amber. Things seemed to have settled down a bit overnight. Hannah and Gerard were back in residence and there was no sign of distress regarding Paige's children. Jovian was still missing, but there was not much Garrett could do about that.
Garrett goes back to his rooms to do the same, then hooks up with Abdallah again, duffelbag over his shoulder, and searches for the King.
Garrett finds a page who informs him that the King and Prince Martin are having a late breakfast on the terrace.
After leaving his duffelbag inside with Abdallah, Garrett goes out onto the terrace. The view, as always, is breathtaking and Garrett can't help but breathe deeply of the fresh mountain air before addressing his father and brother. "Good morning, Father, Martin. Mind if I join you?"
"Why?" asks Random. "Are we coming apart?"
Garrett snorts, smirking.
"Only if you don't plan on taking my share of breakfast," Martin opines, forking more sausage from a server onto his plate.
"Sit. We'll send for more breakfast." Random gestures to a chair. "Or we'll see if the staff is on the ball and realizes that the three of us just need more food."
He stops and looks at Garrett. "I assume that you'd've interrupted us by now if something serious required our immediate attention, right?"
"Absolutely. Sir," Garrett says, remembering his manners as he takes a seat. He reaches for a spare mug and the carafe of coffee while he waits for someone to bring an extra plate and more food. "I was in training, but I didn't hear anything unusual on the way up. Fact, I wanted to check in with you both to catch up on the details from yesterday."
Random looks deep into Garrett's eyes. "Yesterday. Sucked." He seems very emphatic about that.
Martin nods once, somberly. "Double sucked. With suck on top." He turns back to Random, adding in a more conversational tone, "I was convinced Julian was going to belt her for a moment."
Garrett looks confused. "Her?"
"Paige", says Martin.
The King turns to Martin, nodding. "Like son, like father? Our missing nephew managed to belt her and Cambina, so he's up by two for the win, I think." Random looks back at Garrett. "So, that's the details. Hopefully today won't suck. What are people saying about yesterday's doings?" Random picks up an orange and begins peeling it.
"Well, I don't think anyone's picked up on Julian's involvement. Not that I've heard," Garrett analyzes quietly after a sip of coffee. "There's typical servant chatter about bruised royal women, and Jovian's involvement in that. Also about him tearing outta here like a stampeding stallion, but that all shuts down whenever I get near." He snorts wryly. "Strange being on the other side of that."
Random suppresses a laugh. "Wait until someone calls you a demon, and then begins trying to exorcise you."
With an eyeroll, Martin adds, "Or calls your ass out because they know you're tough, but not exactly how tough compared to them."
"I hate it when that happens," replies Random. "How's training going?" he asks Garrett.
If Garrett's alarmed by their stories, he doesn't look it. It all just fits with what he's come to expect from this family. "Good," Garrett grins happily. "Master Abdallah has a different style from what I'm used to and he's training me in that along with the more traditional style of Amber. And we're working on fighting equally well with both hands. I didn't know how clumsy my left hand was until we started working it."
Random smirks briefly. "That could be the title of an entire series of instructional manuals."
Martin's smirk is a mirror of Random's.
Random stabs a sausage and lifts it up, pointing it at Garrett. "Has your instructor given up on attempting to murder Princes?"
"Well, he hasn't tried to murder me yet and he's had plenty of opportunity," Garrett smirks after another sip of coffee. "And the one he has issue with hasn't been here. I haven't figured out yet what his problem is. He's been pretty closed-lipped about it. And to be honest, I haven't pressed the question. Reckoned I'd get to know him better before I ask him why he's got it in for my cousin."
"Let us know. Him too." Random looks over Garrett's shoulder and raises his voice over the waterfall's white noise. "Flange, if that doesn't have the spicy sausage in it, turn back around.
"Anyway, we're done with the questions. Do you need anything other than breakfast?"
Garrett shifts in his seat to make room for Flange to place a setting before him and set down the tray of fresh food. "Breakfast to start," Garrett says as he scoops sausages, eggs and buttered toast onto his plate. "Then I wanted to go back to what we talked about before. Me going back to Amber? And getting a trump deck?" he reminds his father hopefully. "A lot has happened since we spoke, though, and now that Martin's back, he should have a say in it, too." He turns to Martin. "In case you have other plans for me," he concludes, his voice turning up to make it a question.
Random looks at Martin, who shrugs. "I don't see any reason not to send you to Amber. Just sleep in the castle, or if you find somewhere else to sleep, let the castle know."
"Will do," Garrett replies, obviously pleased. He's quiet for a few moments as he works on his food. Once his hunger is under control, he says, "I'm already packed and Abdallah is waiting too, so we can go through anytime you can send us, sir," he tells his father. "Do you have any instructions other than the ones you gave me when we last spoke?"
"Do you want any more instructions? I can always come up with some if you'd like. 'Always hit one and three unless you're really comfortable with your rhythm section.'" Random takes a big bite of the spicy sausage, wipes his hand on the tablecloth, and pulls out his trump deck.
Garrett grins and rises eagerly, snagging one last piece of toast on his way. "Be right back," he says, trotting off in the direction he originally came from. Martin and Random hear a shrill whistle and a muffled shout, as if Garrett is calling to someone through a semi-closed door. In a moment, he returns, duffelbag over his shoulder, followed by the large, burly swordsmaster, also weilding a pack and an assortment of edged weapons.
"We're ready, sir," Garrett says, drawing himself up attentively before his father.
Abdallah goes to his knees and bows, forehead to the floor.
Random looks them up and down. "You," he says to Adallah, "you don't kill anyone unless he says so, unless they killed him first. Got it? Good, now rise."
The swordmaster turns slightly red, but says nothing. He bows again, then rises. Random cuts the cards and leaves the two halves of the deck open on the table, one to Caine, the other outside of the castle. "Your pick," he says to Garrett.
Garrett steps up to the table and considers the cards. Politically, the proper choice would be to go to Caine with his chin held high and take charge, or at least give the appearance of taking charge while letting Uncle Caine continue to have his fun. Going to the castle, however, would allow him to stow his gear, assess the situation in Amber, and THEN take charge, etcetera. Scout the battlefield instead of going for the frontal assault, so to speak. After this moment's consideration, Garrett chooses the castle trump.
It is cooler in Amber than Xanadu, and Abdallah seems to notice it quite strongly. The guards at the gate wave Garrett in, and inform him that Prince Caine has gone down to the Harbor and will be returning later, but The Lady Solange is in residence. They wish to know if there is anything they can do for Prince Garrett. Venesch and Abdallah eye each other silently.
"Thank you. Gentlemen, this is Abdallah, my swordmaster from Xanadu. He'll be needing quarters and, apparently, some warmer clothing. He hails from more temperate climes," Garrett explains in the genially authoritative tone he's heard his father use when speaking with castle staff. Over the last several weeks, he's decided this style works better for him than Martin's cold-stare intensity.
"Venesch," he turns to address the Swordmaster of Amber. "You being the official prince-trainer of the last several decades, I'll need you to compare notes with Abdallah. He's taken on a similar position in Xanadu and I'd like our training methods to be consistent between realms. Show him around, tell him what a Prince of Amber needs to know from your vast experience. He can tell you what he's done with me so far and explain what sort of work I still need to do."
Venesch nods crisply.
Garrett then turns to his own swordmaster. "Abdallah. This is Venesch, the Captain of the Guards here in Amber. He'll get you set up, but remember, in Amber, he's the boss. When I'm not around, anyway. Listen and learn. Tell him what you've done with me so far and feel free to be brutally honest. I won't take offense. We can continue our training sessions at the normal time starting tomorrow, so you have the rest of today to get settled in.
"And I expect that any dueling you partake of here shall be for training purposes only. Understood?"
"As you say, my Prince."
Once everyone understands their orders, Garrett hustles off to his rooms to unload his gear, then searches for Lady Solange.
They nearly bump into each other as Garrett and Solange round the same corner--Solange has her nose in a book and isn't paying that close of attention to where she's walking.
"Oops!" she exclaims, pulling up in time to avoid a collision. Then she smiles. "Garrett! I didn't know you were in Amber. How are you?"
"Oh! Hey, Lady Solange. Just the person I was looking for," Garrett grins. "I just arrived. Reckoned I'd best find a relative to catch up and the guards said you were in. You busy?"
"Just Solange," she replies, waving away the title. "No, not terribly busy. Are you hungry? I could send for something to eat while we talk," she suggests, running on the theory that all young men are hungry all the time.
Garrett chuckles. "I just ate before I arrived, but it was kind of a rushed breakfast. Sure, we can grab something. Let's take it on one of the terraces," he suggests, wishing to enjoy the crisp air of home.
"Breakfast? I can arrange that, just a minute..." Solange steers Garrett in the direction of the closest terrace, her expression preoccupied. When they arrive, a table is already set for two: fried potatoes, ham, steak, scrambled eggs, juice and coffee, and a variety of pastries. The view is superb, overlooking the ocean.
Garrett's eyes widen at the conveniently-prepared breakfast, until he remembers that shadows can be shifted in Amber now. At that, his expression turns rueful.
The change in mien isn't lost on Solange. She looks back at him thoughtfully.
Solange gestures to a chair for Garrett and sits herself, putting the book off to the side on the table. She immediately reaches for the coffee. "So what brings you back to Amber?"
"A few things," Garrett begins, filling his own coffee mug once Solange has finished. "I proposed to Father that perhaps he should keep me posted here so there could be a royal presence in both realms. Having all of us in Xanadu seemed like overkill to me. Thought since he had two sons, he might as well spread us around."
Solange nods as she adds cream and sugar to her mug.
"He agreed and also said I could pick up a deck of trumps for my own while I was here." Garrett grins at that like a teenager given the keys to the family car.
"Father gave me my trump deck after I walked the Pattern," Solange says, smiling at Garrett's infectious enthusiasm. "He wanted me to be able to contact him if I happened to get into a tight spot while traveling around in shadow. And it's served its intended purpose on a number of occasions." Her smile widens and she sips her coffee.
"I'll bet," he says wryly, stabbing a piece of steak off the serving tray with his fork. "Fortunately, Father's not making me wait to have a trump deck. If he did, it'd be well into the next decade before I'd get one. It'd get a little old having to walk me back and forth between kingdoms like a toddler, I reckon."
"You haven't walked the Pattern yet?" Solange inquires, surprised.
Garrett shakes his head, his disappointment evident in his frown. "He said his father said no one should walk it until they're thirty, and I think he means to follow that too," he explains. He scoops out some eggs, the task not quite covering the deepening of his frown. "At least with me," he mutters.
Solange snorts. "I was eighteen. Granted, there were some extenuating circumstances--like we were at war--but still. Thirty? I think that's a bit...conservative. Lilly wasn't thirty, was she? How old are you now?"
"I'll be nineteen at the end of Harp," answers Garrett, looking up at her with renewed interest. "Lilly was twenty, but Father says she earned it. She fought the war."
He pokes at his eggs, obviously bothered by this discrepancy but unsure if he should question his father's decisions in front of others. Finally deciding that Solange being family makes it okay, he says in a lowered voice, "I don't want to diminish what Lilly did. She DID fight the war. But you were here, Solange. We fought a war on this end too. It was just a different kind of war. At thirteen, I kept my family safe when things fell apart that night. I buried men and burned horses. I helped rebuild the stables and the castle. I worked from dawn to dusk and still had to make time to hunt squirrels to put food on the table." He smirks ironically. "But I didn't earn it."
Solange seems to have no compunction about questioning the Pattern-walking decision. "That's bullshit," she states, sitting back in her chair. "Since when does someone have to 'earn' the right to their Walk? It's in your blood, it's your birthright."
Solange's bluntness takes Garrett aback. For a moment, he seems not to know how to answer her. He picks up his mug and leans back in his own chair, considering her opinion. "Eighteen, eh? Young pattern walkers are beginning to be the rule instead of the exception from what I've seen. Huh," he muses, taking a long draw on his coffee. "And Uncle Gerard had you do it why? Defense? Because of the war?"
"Both," she replies. "Things were uncertain. Father had me walk the Pattern, then he hid me out in shadow. He brought me back to Amber when he became regent."
Solange reaches forward and snags a muffin. "I'd grown up knowing who I was and what was expected of me, so I was ready to walk." She bites into it and regards Garrett. "Although it was the most draining thing I'd ever done physically, it was the mental aspect that really threw me. It plays with your head, the Pattern does. I think a more pertinent question than 'Have you earned it?' is 'Are you ready?'"
"Physically, yeah," he answers without hesitation. "I've always been in good shape, but these last several weeks working out with Abdallah have made me more fit than I've ever been.
"I'll admit to being nervous about the mental part, though. I _think_ I'm pretty stable. Donovan saw to that. But with everything that's happened in the last few months, I wonder if I'm stable enough," he says in a way that invites her comments.
Solange considers Garrett's question as she finishes off her muffin, then replies, "When I walked, I saw my...well..." She trails off, shifting her position, and pauses before continuing. "I saw things that not only were very personal to me, but things that haunted me--past sins, bad choices come back to life...
"The Pattern tries to distract you from traversing the glowing line in front of you--or maybe it's your subconscious manifesting itself that's trying to draw you off, I'm not sure. Anyway, you will encounter distractions, and likely they'll be _big honking personal_ distractions, if you catch my drift. You just have to weather it out and keep walking, keep your attention on the glowing line and put one foot in front of the other, no matter what.
"Can you do that?"
Garrett considers this. "Probably. As long as I know it's coming," he says finally. "I've been trying to think about all the situations it might throw at me. Or maybe that's the wrong way to look at it." He slices into his steak and takes a bite.
"Father says the Pattern is not sentient," he explains when he stops chewing. "It doesn't actively seek to mess with your head. Which kind of points to the idea that it's your own mind throwing distractions at you. For whatever reason. Perhaps to get you to stop putting all this stress on your body. So that might be the thing to fall back on when it gets hard. That it's not real. Like talking yourself out of a nightmare." It's quite obvious that despite his father's restrictions, Garrett has been giving this subject a lot of thought.
Solange nods. "That's it. I think you can do it. You seem to have a good head on your shoulders, and you've always seemed like a stable boy to me. Get it? Stable...boy?"
She smiles at Garrett, teasing him.
Garrett throws her a pained smirk and laughs.
"It can change personal items you walk with too," she continues, becoming serious again. "When my brother Vere walked, he had feathers in his hair given to him from Robin. Now he has colored streaks where the feather used to be. So consider what you take with you, if anything."
"Really. Huh," Garrett says with interest. He wonders secretly if the ring he gave Lilly before her walk caused any changes, but shoves the thought out of his mind. No matter. It wasn't like she'd tell him now anyway. He tucks back into his food for a moment, then says thoughtfully, "Y'know, I used to have dreams about it. I didn't know what it was, but when I was little, sometimes I had nightmares about trying to walk across a glowing spider web, and getting stuck in it. Father thinks it was my mind trying to make sense of the power inside me."
Solange nods thoughtfully. "I can see that. When...um...how did you find out? That you're a prince? If it's not too personal of a question."
Garrett looks surprised. "Oh, that's right. You weren't here. I thought that was old news by now." He leans back, coffee in hand, much more comfortable telling the story now than when it first happened. "My little sister likes to spy on people. Nosiest lass I ever met. One day, oh, about a month or so after the coronation, she overheard my parents arguing about whether to tell me about my 'real' father. So Maggie, the little scamp, runs off to tease me. You know - 'I know something you don't know' - as bairn do. She was unusually persistent this time, so I dragged her off to Mum to have her hide tanned.
"Dad was still in the house and when I asked about it, he just got real quiet and Mum went white as a ghost. So I knew something was up. Mum told me the story then. How she'd been a maid at the castle and had... um... relations... with the king, back before the war. She realized her folly fairly quick, but not quick enough. When she discovered her pregnancy, she decided to run back down to the Docksides, where she was raised, to keep me from being discovered, but Donovan offered to marry her instead and claim me as his own. He was the only father I ever knew until all this came up."
"Why didn't she want to tell Uncle Random about the pregnancy?" Solange asks as she scoops eggs and ham onto her plate.
"She was afraid he'd take me away from her," Garrett answers simply. "And I was her child too. My mother's always been fiercely protective of her children."
Solange nods. "You're lucky in that regard, to have a parent that loves you so very much and to have had a normal childhood. So how did Uncle Random find out about you?"
"I told him. Or rather, Lilly told him", he smiles sheepishly. "I had gone up to the library one afternoon, to try to find out some things on my own. To see if there were things about me that would identify me as being of the blood that I just didn't recognize. Beyond the strength and the quick-healing, y'know?"
Solange nods again as she eats her eggs.
"Lilly accosted me, then offered to help when I told her I was looking for history books. We talked for quite a while," he smiles unconsciously at the memory.
"Then she said things that led the conversation a different way and I made a misstep in my story, thinking she knew more about me than she really did." He shrugs. "She's not stupid, so I knew I couldn't bluff any more. I told her my story as I knew it, and explained the real reason I came to the library. She offered to help me gain audience with the King, but as it turned out, she told him herself the next day. She told me later that night what she had done."
"And how did he verify that you were actually his son?" Solange asks, curious. "For you know, if you're not actually family--I'm assuming you are, but still--a Patternwalk will kill you."
"I managed to get in to see him the next day," Garrett explains. "He did... _something_ with the Jewel. I'm not sure what, but when he was finished, he said he could tell I had the blood. He said he couldn't say for certain that I was his, but admitted it was likely, 'cause I looked a little like Martin. We talked some about what to do about it and how to reveal it. That was when he first mentioned having to be thirty to walk the Pattern."
"Thirty? That's amazing. Did he offer any explanation other than the 'you haven't earned it yet' reason?"
"Yeah. That it was highly dangerous and not for the unprepared. Which at the time was a valid reason," Garrett answers between bites of eggs. He studies his plate and Solange can tell he's pondering a thought that he's obviously pondered many times already. "Thing is, I'm prepared now," he says finally, looking up from his plate with determination in his blue eyes. "And there are other highly dangerous things out there that the Pattern can defend against, if I understand it right."
He narrows his eyes. "You were involved in the fight against the dragon, right? The one that killed Daeon?" he asks.
"Only peripherally," Solange replies. "It was mostly over by the time I arrived and the part I was involved in happened so quickly I had little time to influence anything. Why?"
"Well, I spent some time with Paige and the twins on the way to Xanadu after the funeral," Garrett explains. "I don't know all the details, but it sounded like she used the Pattern somehow to defend the children. And it sounds like this dragon problem's likely to come up again in the future."
He shifts in his seat a little uncomfortably. "I don't know. It just seems to me - and granted, I could be wrong - that if Pattern can be used as a defense, it would make sense for... anyone who's able... to have it and learn to use it. In order to protect those who can't."
He looks up, his eyes asking for her opinion, then adds hastily, "Not that I'm gonna run out and hunt down a dragon or anything. But just in case one comes hunting us."
"Heh. No, you're right--Pattern is a strong defense. I don't understand why Uncle Random wouldn't encourage you to take it."
Solange pauses over her coffee, considering things, then looks back up at Garrett.
"Have you thought about just going down and walking it anyway?"
Garrett's initial look of surprise fades into one of guilt. He shifts his gaze downward and plays with his eggs idly. "You gotta understand, Solange, that until a couple of months ago, I was a stablehand," he murmurs. "I was trained to take orders. Without question. So this whole territory, with an order this big... it's... uncomfortable."
He chews his lip and glances back up at her, then continues softly, "But yeah. I've thought about it. Father keeps saying I need to develop a sense of royal entitlement and as far as I'm concerned, this is the biggest entitlement of all. The consequences of doing it without permission are just another part of the risk, but I'm beginning to think it'd be worth it. Others have done it without permission and made good eventually."
He bites his lip again and sighs. "But you need a family witness and no one in Xanadu would do that. They all know my father's wishes." He stabs a sausage and takes a bite.
Solange chuckles. "I wonder who around here is both family and appears to be sympathetic to the cause... Hmmmm."
He studies her for a long moment and when he speaks, his tone is serious. "I can't ask you to do that, Solange. It would mean going against the King. It could get you into... serious trouble." She'll note he's not exactly refusing an offer though.
She puts down her coffee cup and leans forward. "If you die on the Pattern, I'll be in shit up to my eyeballs. I don't think your father will ever forgive me and I may well get exiled. On the other hand, if you walk and survive just fine, he may be annoyed for awhile and there may even be some disciplinary action, but eventually it'll blow over.
"So...question to you...are you going to survive if you walk?"
Garrett shoots her a smirk reminiscent of his father's. Or Martin's. "I'll survive," he answers with fierce determination rather than mere teenage bravado.
Solange grins back.
"But you know, I haven't even seen it yet." A glimmer of curiosity lights up his eyes. "I don't suppose... I know the one here is busted, but... can you still get down to it? Just to see it?"
"Sure, why not?" Solange says as she stands. "Do you mind if we take someone with us? I have a friend I'd like to show the Pattern to as well."
Garrett shrugs, rising as well. "I reckon that's all right. You were part of the Regency Council so you probably know better than me who's allowed down there. Who's your friend?"
Solange leaves the table and walks back into the castle. She leads Garrett toward her rooms in the royal wing.
"His name is Kyril. He was a med student back when I knew him at Lauderville University. Remember I told you that Father sent me out into shadow during the war? That's where he sent me. So, I was safe and got an education at the same time--very efficient.
"After Father called me back to Amber, war came to Lauderville--a shadow of what was happening here. Tore the place apart. Kyril was pulled out of research and drafted to patch up soldiers. Lieutenant Kyril Suon, while hiking to meet up with another unit, somehow lost his way and ended up in Xanadu."
"Really," Garrett remarks with interest. "I should ask him about that. How people just end up there is something I've been wondering about."
"Him/Kyril or him/Uncle Random? Him/Kyril doesn't know--it just happened. I think the current popular theory is that Xanadu is drawing people out of shadow that will help build it up." She shrugs. "I've not asked an elder about it yet."
Solange's expression sobers. "I wanted to show him the broken Pattern before we left Amber," she explains quietly. "I wanted him to see what was the cause of the war that destroyed his home. I...felt I owed him that."
Garrett nods understandingly. "That makes sense. I want to see it because..." he shrugs, at a loss. "I don't know why exactly. Because it feels like I should. I don't know if it's to try to understand it, or just to pay my respects like at a family grave but... it just feels like I should."
"I understand," Solange assures him, squeezing his shoulder. "Look, here we are..."
The door to Solange's room is open and voices drift out into the hallway. A couple of servant girls chatter inside while they fill a trunk, apparently packing Solange for what appears like a long trip.
Solange hands one girl to pack the book she was reading when Garrett found her and looks around for Kyril.
There is a loud thump from the inner room. Shortly, Kyril follows the sound out. "Oh, hello, Solly. You should tell the librarians here that 'Medicine' and 'Mystic Claptrap' shouldn't be shelved together. They're distinct fields of study." Kyril is skinny, but not wiry, and dressed in a pair of green pants. He seems perfectly comfortable to be topless and shoeless.
Garrett suppresses a smirk at the pet name and turns toward Solange as she speaks.
Solange grins at him fondly, then turns to Garrett. "Garrett, this is Kyril, Medicine Man and Royal Commentator. Kyril, this is Garrett, a cousin of mine and youngest son of the king.
"Kyril," Garrett acknowledges the other man with a practiced nod, though Kyril, being a trained physician and presumably skilled at reading people, would probably see that such formality is not the prince's more favored style.
Kyril grins and holds out his hand, "Prince Garrett, a pleasure to meet you."
Garrett smiles and shakes his hand. "And you, sir." From the solidness of his grip and the callouses on his hands, Kyril can see this is no do-nothing prince. The lad has seen his share of hard work.
"Kyril, I'm taking Garrett to see the famous squiggle downstairs. Are you interested in accompanying us?"
Though her words about the Pattern are light--almost flippant--her tone has a sudden strange edge to it, like dark clouds far off on the horizon of an otherwise sunny day. This is important to her.
Kyril looks at Garrett and back at Solange. "Sure. Sounds like I'll have to find some clothes, first. " Kyril stage-whispers to Garrett. "She usually doesn't let me have shoes."
Garrett laughs but leaves any further comments to Solange. Y'know, to see if she actually will let him wear shoes today.
Solange picks up a pair of sandals from behind a chair and tosses them to Kyril. "Be good, or I'll start referring to you as my cabana-boy," she replies drolly. "Let's go."
"Do they even have cabanas here? Some sort of magical cabana, always full of towels, sunscreen and handy adult products, I'd guess."
Solange waggles her eyebrows at Kyril and smiles suggestively, then winks at Garrett and laughs.
Garrett blushes at their suggestiveness. Solange and Kyril's playful jesting reminds him of how he and Sparrow used to tease each other. He smiles wistfully as he remembers how much he misses her.
Kyril puts on the sandals. "I can't find my fez and vest," he explains as he pulls on a simple green T-shirt with the word 'Suon' over the left breast. Solange may notice that it is more tattered than she'd expect.
"Lead on."
She snaps her fingers and points at Kyril's shirt. "Man-made fibers," Solange comments, smiling at some private joke between them.
She puts a hand on Garrett's shoulder and escorts him out the door and down the hall. After looking over her own shoulder to make sure Kyril is still with them, she turns the corner and leads them both further into the castle and toward the stairs that spiral down and down and down into the dark to the Pattern.
As they walk, Garrett says to Kyril, "So Solange says you were one of those that just started walking and ended up in Xanadu?"
Kyril nods. "Born lucky, I guess. I was on a solo recon for the mobile surgery, but really it was make-work. We were just waiting for them to figure out how to discharge us without us getting all uppity about getting paid and having rights and not being left to die alone with our jungle rot." He smiles at Solange's back. "So instead, I won the lottery. Again."
[OOC: Don't know what the protocol is to go visit the Pattern, or even if there is one. I assume Solange, as part of the regency council, would know what it is.]
[One gets the key, one walks down a metric buttload of steps, one observes the place that used to have guard, one walks to the seventh passage on the left, one uses the key to open the door, one gazes upon the ruins of Amber's soul. So, step one, get the key. Cambina had it last.]
[Great. :-(]
Solange stops and turns to look at Garrett and Kyril. "Now that I'm thinking of it, we need the key to get into the room with the Pattern. I'm going to see if Uncle Caine has it. In the meantime, carry on..."
She moves down the hallway a bit, pulls out Caine's trump, positions herself so he can't see Kyril and Garrett, and concentrates on it.
Caine answers and after Solange identifies herself, he speaks. "What else can I do to speed your departure, niece?"
"You're not trying to get rid of me, are you?" Solange asks roguishly. "I wanted to see the Pattern one last time before I leave--you did suggest I do this. Do you have the key?"
"I wasn't aware I had the option." He reaches behind him, and is shortly holding something out to Solange. The key is tarnished, and the ribbon it's attached to is faded and dusty, but it's the same large key that used to hang in the guardroom at the base of the stairs.
Solange accepts the key and smiles. "And here I was told you were all curmudgeonly and cantankerous."
"You may want to look into the advantages of not believing what you are told." Caine says, calmly.
"I didn't say I believed it--only relating what I was told. Thank you for the key." She nods and breaks contact.
Garrett quirks a concerned eyebrow, hoping that contacting Caine does not mean this excursion is finished before it starts. But he merely nods to Solange as she departs, then turns back to Kyril.
"I've been wondering about that whole attraction thing. Were you simply lost and wandering or were you looking for something specific?" Garrett asks with interest.
Kyril shrugs. "I was... doing a job I didn't really want to do, being somewhere I didn't really want to be. Then I wasn't. Sorry, bug's eye view. I didn't really pay attention until I met Edan."
"'S alright," Garrett says with a resigned shrug. "It's just something I've been wondering about. Back during the war, people would do that in Amber too. Just go walking and... disappear. A bunch of them have turned up in Xanadu. So you met Edan when you came in?"
Kyril nods. "I don't think he'd been to Xanadu yet. We wandered into the town and I met your swordsmaster."
Garrett's eyebrows arch in surprise. "That must've been interesting," he comments wryly.
Kyril shrugs. "I don't remember it."
Solange walks back over toward them, holding aloft a large key. "Success! Now on toward the metric buttload of stairs!"
Garrett grins when she returns with the key.
And she leads them in that direction.
The stairs are where they were last left, in a door off of the family quarters. They lead down and there are lanterns on shelves at the top. It's quite a long walk down. "Tell me we don't have to come back this way," says Kyril.
Solange laughs as she lights a lantern and starts down. He might notice she didn't actually answer his question.
Neither does Garrett, though he is fairly certain he knows the answer. He doesn't seem particularly bothered by the stairs and is not even breathing hard by the time they reach the bottom.
At the bottom of the steps is a pile of rubble and a series of ropes. "So we climb from here?" asks the Laudervillian.
"Left over from an excavation after the Sundering," she replies vaguely. Solange walks past the rubble without a backward glance and turns into the passageway leading to the Patternroom. "This way."
Garrett had been ready to climb the pile, but moves away from it when Solange strides past dismissively. At her comment about the excavation, though, he looks back over his shoulder, remembering. He had only heard about this place back when the Regent had been so gravely injured. To be so near it makes him shiver. He turns back to follow Solange.
[GM Note: Gerard was with an ambassador in a wine cellar, those are different cellars further up. These are deeper cellars and not really cellars so much as a really deep shaft with a lantern/guard room at the bottom connected to natural caves.]
[OOC: Noted. I suppose it would've been prudent to go back and reread those logs. Sorry.]
Kyril follows as well, carrying the lantern he picked up near the top of the stairs. It lights up a small guardroom with a rack of shelves for lanterns against the wall. The only other furniture is a battered table and chair beside the rack. The room seems as if it has been undisturbed for some time.
Sticking in the table is a piece of paper, held down by a dagger through the top.
The paper says "Notice: it is still trespass, punishable by death to be in the caves beneath Castle Amber. --PCRA"
"Um," says Kyril.
"We're golden," Solange assures him. "I got the key from the regent, remember? This way...seventh stop, the Pattern Room."
After glancing at Garrett to make sure he is still in the game, Solange continues on.
Garrett is still with her. He nods reassuringly at Kyril. "Yeah, and I outrank him, so I can overturn the sentence," Garrett claims, though his voice is lowered as if concerned the present regent might overhear.
Solange smiles encouragingly at Garrett.
The corridors are damp and slick but the pathway is well worn. There are numerous side passageways, some with doors, some with grilles, and some open. None are welcoming, but they might be interesting to look into.
And Garrett does peek into the passageways, as far as the lantern and their pace will allow.
Down one, Garrett hears what sounds like running water. Another opens to a vast cavern, the walls completely hidden by what looks like stone that has melted. A third has a sound that could be breathing, or the wind over the entrance to a distant cave. The others have grilles or doors.
The seventh passage ends in a massive ironbound door, ancient and thick and tall. It opens outward, as if it were designed to keep something in. There is a bar, turned by the key that Solange holds. The hinges, made of the same thick iron as the door's bands, look as if they had grown directly out of the living rock.
"Well, the Unicorn and Princess Castle is certainly ... gothic underneath it all." Kyril's bravado sounds small in the long, dark, empty corridors.
The door is closed.
Garrett examines the door, running his fingers over the ancient hinges where they connect with the cold stone. "Isn't it though," Garrett agrees, his voice laced with awe. His eyes sparkle with anticipation as he glances over at Solange, waiting for her to open the door.
She produces the key, places it in the lock, and [presumably] turns the key and lifts the bar. After a dramatic pause, Solange opens the door. "Here we go."
The key takes more than human strength to turn, but Solange is up to the task. The room is vast, stretching forward and up beyond the lantern's dim light.
Solange can see in her mind the elaborate, delicate tracery that should be shining, shining on the floor, that should be singing to her blood. It's like seeing her own corpse.
"It's a big room," says Kyril, sounding like a man who knows he's missing something.
Solange thinks she's prepared for this--she's seen the pattern since the Sundering--but the reality once again hits her like a slap in the face. She takes in a sharp breath, as if in pain.
Garrett holds up his lantern, gaping around at the sheer bigness of the cavern. Then he sets his lantern on the floor and closes his eyes, reaching inward, trying to feel the Pattern in his blood, in his genes. He remembers his dreams. They frightened him long ago, but now he tries to bring them forth; to touch that glowing, twisting thing that he now knows wends its way through his soul.
"It was huge. It must've covered the whole cavern," he says, almost trancelike. "And it glowed silver-blue. Didn't it, Solange?" he asks, opening his eyes to look at her. "Is there anything left?"
"Yes, it glowed a beautiful blue that lit up this entire cavern," Solange replies sadly. "The tracery is still there on the floor. And you can see the fissure that split and destroyed it.
"It's safe to approach. I remember Jerod threw a rat onto it and the rat didn't incinerate. The pattern here is quite...dead."
She closes her eyes and inhales deeply, taking a moment to regain her equilibrium.
Kyril moves into the room with his lantern. The roof is out of sight, the end of the room is out of sight, but there's definitely a tracery on the floor. It's a delicate, curving thing, and it feels to Garrett like a piece to a puzzle.
Far out in the middle, just before the lantern's light fails, there's something bigger and darker on the ground. Perhaps a crack. Kyril holds up the lantern and looks at Solange.
"What is that?" she asks rhetorically. She holds up her lantern as well, glances at the two men, then steps out onto the dead Pattern to go have a look.
Garrett had crouched down to run his fingers longingly over the delicate tracery, but he looks up at Solange's question. He rises and squints into the darkness. As she steps out, he almost follows her, but stops himself. "Uh... Solange? Is that safe?" he asks with a grimace, like watching a friend stride out onto thin ice.
"Why wouldn't it be safe?" asks Kyril, alarmed.
Garrett ignores the question, deciding it best not to mention that failed Patternwalkers don't even leave a corpse to bury.
About 10 yards in, Solange gets close enough to see the jagged cut in the ground. Across the gaps someone has laid boards. They look flimsy. On one side, they match up perfectly with the pattern.
"It's all right, Garrett," Solange calls out. "Come have a look at this."
She holds the lantern over the edge of the cut and leans forward to have a good look. Is it deep? How long is the cut? Anything else significant?
Garrett picks up his own lantern and follows her path. "What the..." he gasps, looking the boards up and down. "Why would someone do that? They wouldn't even hold anyone's weight." He holds his lantern up higher, trying to see more of the other side of the gap.
"I don't know," Solange replies.
Kyril follows Garrett.
The gap doesn't look like it was formed by an earthquake but more like this half of the room had to move one-two feet to the southwest in a hurry, and that half of the room wasn't going anywhere, and they couldn't agree, so the room broke at the weakest points. The break is entirely contained inside the pattern, which to be fair takes up most of the room.
At what points on the Pattern did it break? Are there any landmarks associated with the points, like First Veil, etc.? How wide is the gap?
There does not seem to be a matching break in the ceiling.
The boards cross the gap, perfectly lined up with the pattern on the side nearest the starting point. The gap narrows inside, but never quite closes. There's another lantern wedged on a rock about 20 feet down, but it's burned out.
Kyril flips out a coin, a sovereign, newly minted with Random's head on it. He looks at Solange.
"You want to drop it? Go ahead," she says, bemused by all of this.
Garrett, meanwhile, lays down on the floor and lowers his lantern into the crack as far down as he can reach, looking for any other signs of why the fallen lantern might be there. Did someone fall into the crevasse? Or did they try to climb down?
The other lantern is dented. Perhaps it was kicked in. There's no sign of a body, so if someone fell, they were hauled up.
Kyril flips the coin in the air and it falls inside the rift, spinning. It drops down, hitting the side here and there with a reassuring clink, until it's out of sight. The clinking stops ringing soon thereafter and silence overtakes the stilled room. After a long time Garret thinks he hears a tiny noise, like a "bloop" or "plush!" sound, but he's not sure.
"Well, that didn't help, and now I'm out a crown," says Kyril.
"This was it, the Pattern I walked," Solange says, opening her arms wide to encompass the room. "It was beautiful, all the tracery glowing blue. Maybe one day, Kyril, I'll be able to show you the one in Xanadu. Garrett, I expect you'll see it sooner or later--I hope sooner."
Kyril smiles at Solange, and stretches his hand out towards hers.
She takes his hand and holds it comfortably, entwining the fingers.
"Is there anything else either of you wanted to see down here?"
Garrett rises and retrieves his lantern. "No, I reckon not," he says as he gazes around the room one last time, as if trying to picture it looking the way Solange described it. "Kyril?"
Kyril looks surprised. "Me? I'm a tourist. I know I don't want to drag enough cement down here to fix it."
"Nor do I," Garrett chuckles. As they turn to leave, Garrett asks Solange, "So besides Xanadu, where are there Patterns that work?"
Still holding Kyril's hand, Solange starts off toward the door. "There's Tir and Rebma...and there's one behind these, an original, that Martin told us about, that these--including the dead one here in Amber--are reflections of. I don't know how to get to it, though.
"Aside from that group, there's the pattern Corwin drew. And presumably Corwin's and the one your father drew have their own reflections.
"Which one are you thinking of walking?"
"I always assumed I'd be walking the one in Xanadu, but... I wonder," Garrett muses. "Martin told me about the other one too, just recently. Something about a 'Pattern at True Kolvir' that this one is a shadow of. Too bad we don't know how to get there though, 'cause I'm not sure exactly how I'm going to get myself down to the Pattern Room in Xanadu. Something to ponder, I reckon."
"Hmmm. Yeah," Solange replies. "We'll have to think on that some more."
"Hey, does anyone have a trump of you you think they'd let me borrow?" Garrett asks, almost as an afterthought.
"I don't know of anyone who has a trump of me that they'd let you borrow," Solange answers, which she believes is a true enough statement. "There should be a trump sketch of me in the trump booth." She shrugs.
Once they pass back through the door, Solange takes out the key and locks it again.
"Stairs or trump?" she asks Garrett and Kyril, an amused expression on her face.
Kyril strokes his chin, which looks like he didn't shave this morning. "Hmm, the magical equivalent of being faxed home or StairMaster-two billion. I'd rather go by magic, strictly because I want to learn as much as I can about it and not because my glutes don't want me to climb for the next hour."
Garrett laughs, not really believing anyone wouldn't want to avoid the stairs if given the choice. He waits for Solange to make the connection.
By Solange's dubious grin, it's apparent she's not buying Kyril's claim, either. She pulls out her Amber trump and (assuming there are no mishaps) and transports them through to the outer gates.
"What now?" she asks Garrett. "You off to go get yourself a trump deck?"
Kyril says "I could get used to that, maybe." He waves to the guards.
"That is something, isn't it?" Garrett grins in understanding.
He turns to Solange. "And yes. I've been promised a deck of my own so I have to go get it." He shifts his feet, suddenly reluctant to leave. "And I reckon you two have things to do too. So um... about what we talked about... " he glances at Solange hopefully, "If you... ah, think of any ideas or... if you change your mind..." He winces at that, obviously hoping she won't. "You'll be in touch?"
Solange smiles. "I haven't changed my mind. Come find me after you acquire your deck and we'll plot, okay?"
Garrett grins wider than Solange has ever seen him when not astride a horse. "Will do," he replies enthusiastically and trots off through the gates, looking decidedly more like the hopeful teenager he is than the responsible prince he's supposed to become.
It's late afternoon in Amber. In the gardens behind the kitchens, the ones just before the servant-path to the stables, Garrett lounges on a wooden bench near a clump of coneflowers. The fountain in the center of the garden burbles merrily, but he does not hear it. The young prince is lost in the depths of a crisp set of cards. Trumps. He examines each one individually, thoroughly, taking care not to concentrate too hard on any one pasteboard face. His first set of trumps. Garrett handles them as if they were made of gold.
Passing servants note that the prince has been here for some time, but the time is not important to Garrett. He has enough of it. He savors the breeze and the early Harp sunshine while he waits. Earlier, he had sent a note to Solange saying he had accomplished his errand and would meet her here "sometime this afternoon." He hadn't been more specific because enjoying some time alone on his home turf was a worthy goal in itself.
Solange strolls idly down the path from the kitchens toward Garrett. She waves when he looks up and spots her and sits down on the bench next to him. "Ooooo, pretty," she says about the trump deck in his hands. "So, has anyone explained to you how to use these things? About doing readings and stuff?"
Garrett scoots over to give her room, grinning at the compliment. "Readings? You mean fortunes? Gah," he snorts dismissively. "I don't believe in that rubbish. What's gonna happen is gonna happen. I just want them to get from here to there and back." He squares the deck in his hands, but does not put them away yet. "Are there powers besides that though? Besides the fortunes and travel?"
Solange straightens her arms and rests her hands on her knees as she looks over at Garrett, "Well, if you're contacting a person, you're actually in mental contact with said person. That means, theoretically, you can affect said person. Like attack them through the trump. But I'm sure Martin has told you about that."
Garrett shrugs. "Some. More about things like blocking than attacking. But there's a lot he doesn't know either. Both he and Father keep referring the harder questions to 'the redheads.' I've been meaning to have a chat with Uncle Bleys sometime. About those questions and other things." He pauses and looks up at her slyly. "Like the Pattern."
Solange frowns at Garrett's reply. "Why aren't they telling you anything? Did Martin ever tell you about getting stabbed through a trump by Uncle Brand?"
Garrett's eyes widen incredulously. "Through a trump?!" he exclaims. He leans forward, his elbows on his knees and stares at the fountain. "Shit," he mutters in amazement.
After a pause, he continues. "Martin hasn't been around much, and when he was, he was either preoccupied or we were arguing. He told me once that Brand tried to kill him, but he didn't have time to say how or why." The young prince stares down at the cards with a new wariness.
"What do you know of it?"
Solange turns on the bench to face Garrett more fully. "As I understand things, Brand wanted to destroy the Pattern and create a new one in his image. Somehow he figured out that he could use family blood as pattern erasing fluid, and Martin--not being well known at the time and so not readily missed--seemed the best choice for a source.
"So Brand created a trump of Martin, went to the primal pattern that I told you about earlier, and called your brother. When Martin answered, Brand stabbed him through the trump and Martin bled on the pattern."
As her story unfolds, Garrett listens with rapt attention, his expression growing increasingly dark and somber.
Solange pauses, lost in a memory. "He still has the scar."
Garrett gazes at her, unblinking and speechless. He gulps and regards the cards in his hands as if they might bite. The young prince sighs heavily, shaking his head in solemn disbelief.
"I've seen it," he murmurs finally, still gazing downward. He chews his lip as he continues to process the horrific tale he's just heard. "That explains a lot. A whole lot. About everything.... My father. Martin. The redheads... Everything."
Solange nods. "And it also explains somewhat why Martin is the way he is, especially where trumps are concerned."
Garrett's jaw sets in determination. "I need to walk the Pattern, Solange," he says after a pause, his voice a low growl of resolution. "I need to arm myself with every defense I can get. Because if they could get to Martin... If HE could get to Martin..." He pauses, seemingly unable to finish that thought. When he looks up at her, his blue eyes are narrowed with new intensity.
"Then I wouldn't stand a chance," he finishes.
Solange does not disabuse Garrett from his conclusion.
"All right, so how do we do this?" she asks. She lowers her voice. "I've given it some preliminary thought, and a trump sketch of the pattern room--destroyed immediately afterwards--would take care of any problems arising from guards or locked pattern room doors. That is, if the room hasn't been warded against trump--I've no idea. And I don't make them. Which means we'd have to bring in another cousin and convince him or her to help."
Garrett makes a face at that.
Solange cocks her head. "Do you know if your father has even set up guards? I don't remember seeing any on the way down to Lilly's patternwalk."
"There are guards in some places, but I don't recall seeing any down that way as I've explored the place," Garrett answers quietly. "I've never been farther than the top of the stairs though. I don't know what might be below. As for wards, I doubt it. Neither Father nor Martin seem to know or have much interest in knowing about sorcery. They keep referring those questions to the redheads."
He chews his lip in thought. "I'm leary about bringing in other cousins. The fewer people who know, the less chance it has of getting back to Father or Martin. Just for information though, who draws trumps now? Paige, but I don't think she's been there. Folly, but she's out. Too close to Martin. Anyone else?"
"Folly? When did she learn to draw trumps?" Solange exclaims. "Did Paige teach her?"
"Nope. She got it direct from Dworkin," he explains. "He showed up in Xanadu some time back, and she went off for lessons with him. That's where she was during the funeral. Martin was beside himself. He went looking for her, so that's the main reason he hasn't been around. They only just got back."
"Oh." Solange frowns, feeling out of the loop. She shakes her head to clear it and answers Garrett's question.
"As for who else draws trumps, there's Ossian, Reid, and Brita that I know about," she replies, then shrugs. "I don't know any of them very well, probably Ossian the best of the three."
"Yeah. And I know them less than you do," he concurs with a somber nod.
"Garrett, what if you tried the direct approach? As in just marching down there to see if someone stops you?"
"I was thinking that," the prince agrees. "If anyone asks, I could say you wanted to see it, and I'm just serving as escort. If we go early, like at dawn, there'll be fewer guards wandering around. The whole place seems to run on a musician's schedule - late to bed, late to rise. Even if we can't get in, we can see what we have to contend with."
He leans back on the bench, staring off into the trees in thought. "Have you given the key back to Uncle Caine yet?" he asks speculatively.
"No. Why?" she asks, raising her eyebrows.
"Mmmm, just a thought," Garrett muses. "I don't know if the room's locked, and it probably wouldn't work there anyway, but maybe..." He quirks an eyebrow to see if she's following. "Here. Give it to me. I'll return it to Uncle Caine. And if I happen to... forget before I go back to Xanadu..." He shrugs, a sly smirk growing on his lips.
Solange shrugs and hands it over. "All right. I was busy so I gave you the key to return to Uncle Caine. I know nothing more about it.
"So...this direct approach thing...when? I'm getting ready to sail tonight and then I'll be busy for as long as it takes to get from Amber to Xanadu."
Garrett rubs his chin thoughtfully. "And that'll take, what, three, four days? It took a little longer when I sailed with Paige, but I think she was trying to take it easy. How hard do you plan on riding?"
"Hard enough to lay a path," she replies. "I don't know how long it'll take. Awhile."
Garrett grimaces with a little growl. "Too bad we didn't talk before you made your sailing plans. Any chance of begging off until morning and trumping back and forth tonight?" he asks hopefully.
She shakes her head. "Too many things already set in motion. If it's night right now in Xanadu, I'll go do this with you and come back. Otherwise, it'll have to wait from my end. I'm sorry."
Garrett waves off her apology. "No problem. You're the one doing me a favor by even considering this, so whatever fits into your schedule is fine. Probably best not to call attention to it with a change of plans anyway. Several days' wait is still better than twelve years."
He looks down at his deck of trumps. "Shall I call your father in a few days to see if you've arrived? It would be quite reasonable for a Prince of the Realm to check that the fleet has docked safely," he reasons, casting her a sidelong glance with a little smirk.
Solange gives him a puzzled look. "Is he in Xanadu? I thought he was out in shadow... Yes, that would work. Who else is in Xanadu right now, out of curiosity?"
"He and Hannah arrived shortly before I left," Garrett explains. "I didn't actually see them, but word made its way around the castle." He squints into the trees, thinking. "Folly is there, and Paige and her bairn. Martin's in and out, but as long as Folly's there, you can be sure he'll be back," he grins mischievously. "They're planning a wedding, you know."
Solange's eyebrows rise. "I heard noises in that regard earlier. Good for them! Well, I still have some things I need to attend to before setting sail. Are we good? Anything else we need to discuss first?"
Garrett shakes his head. "I think anything else will have to wait to see what we find when we get there. I'll find some things to keep me busy and call in a few days. Good luck on your trip," he grins.
She stands, plants a kiss on his cheek, and smiles. "Thanks. You take care too, and I'll be in touch."
Last modified: 7 July 2007