Humbly offered for your inspection is a deck of cards. Artfully done pieces of pasteboard, hand crafted but with a preternatural slickness that is only likened to that of a set of Bicycle playing cards available at any five and dime drug store between here and road to Babylon. You'll find them not be the Major Arcane as you might expect, but a motley assortment every bit as fey. They often set out to do one thing, but accomplish another. A few wonder in the hidden chambers of their hearts if they've chosen the right side. Some of these players fear that they’re part of a much larger game than they suspect.
And those last are correct. Yet all the players gather at the track, and call out all races, and answer all names. For them, the game does not end- though the gods themselves know it's been hard...
Shuffle
Mandor of Sawall drummed his long manicured talons upon the Council table, appearing quite bored, but never more alert. The idea was sheer genius, if they could get enough of the varying factions together for such an enterprise.
He kept his peace, he was a junior member at this table and for the time being he preferred it that way. He had long since discarded the idea of taking the spotlight for himself. Let others think that his expertise began and ended with the Arts. All things in there own time.
A casual eye swept over this Princess Fiona... A challenge? He smiled to himself, while shielding himself that much more tightly. If it were noticed, what of it? There were enough paranoids in this gathering of House leaders to more than justify it without much concern.
He returned his attention to the matter under discussion. Capturing Oberon- He didn't doubt that it was possible, holding him would be an entirely different matter. But it might buy them enough time to-
Shuffle
"Nineteen is not too young, hasty yes, but judging from her parents you really didn't think you could postpone it any longer?"
Caine glanced at Gerard, for a flicker, but his eyes were immediately drawn back to the electric blue pyrotechnics that took place before them. I wish he'd either say something positive or pessimistic, he thought. Either one but just not both at the same time. Otherwise just shut the hell up.
"Past the First Veil, that's encouraging."
"Aye," he agreed. It also confirmed that Cyllene was of his seed, not that he'd had many doubts or cared much one way or another, but she'd never had made it that far if she were not honest, at least in breeding
Out on the Pattern, Cyllene had broken out in a sweat as the sparks around her grew higher and higher. She paid them no mind, so intent was she to force herself in a steady firm struggle against it. Not to burn out too quickly, nor save her reserve too much and slow to a stop. But really there was no strategy here when it came time to do it. It was the struggle to survive, and keep one's step at all costs.
"Will you be taking her out for her own first trip?"
Caine thought for a moment. No one could be more fun loving and affectionate when he wanted to be, nor as sour when he didn't. In that respect, Caine was the mercurial focal point between Gerard and Julian. And he did have other concerns that didn't bear mentioning to his less politically minded sibling.
"I was hoping.. I was hoping I could trust you to the task Brother. The Eastern tradewinds aren’t the most easily traversed this season, and it's not a good time for me to be gone. There are places that are not easily sailed to afforded to us at this time." And there was a grain of truth to that. It was hard to split some shadows apart from each other so close to the Center. The fact that there was something else brewing was equally true. "You did so well with your own boys."
Gerard's brow furrowed for a moment before he broke into a smile. "I am honored by your trust Brother", he grunted. "I will do right by the lass." Privately Gerard thought, maybe it's for the best. He loves the girl; his presence here is a mark of it. But he wants her out of the way, of that I have no doubt. What exactly Caine was trying not to draw-
Shuffle
He turned the trump of Julian face down, breaking the contact. Well at least my supporters remain in position, he thought.
Have I overdone it with Julian? Should I have relied on his kinship with Caine to guarantee his backing? He definitely had Caine as his second, and it would seem that Julian would come in tow, followed by Gerard as always for the common good. But this last time, when he'd mention Julian's other obligation to him, he'd almost felt the faintest note of tension behind that mask. Mayhap the horse led to water is more cooperative than the one dragged? After a moment's consideration, he decided that he wouldn't mention the support he'd once given Julian in times of trouble again- unless circumstances required it. No sense pushing it.
Father, he thought, you can't belay naming an Heir forever, and with Caine planning to withdraw (with later compensation of rank in the long-term future), and Benedict out of it, that left him and Bleys as the only logical choices.
That left one more thing to check on. He reached for another trump among those spread out on the table before him. No sooner had he touched it there came a knock. Lifting his fingertips quickly, he moved to scoop and flip all the trumps over in an almost serviceable stack, as smooth as any veteran casino dealer. The identity of the knocker was limited, this was supposed to be his private bolthole. A townhouse owned in the city under an assumed alias. Yet he knew better than to take anything for granted. Rilga's sons all knew he could be contacted at this address. Once a thing is known to more than one person, the permutations of possibility it being discovered multiplied.
"Who?" It was the family's rather abrupt, if not efficient, serviceable and direct form of greeting.
"Just me Father," came a soft reply.
He opened his mouth to reply, and hesitated. In a gentler tone than was his first instinct he murmured, "Come in Noys." With a slight motion he finished turning all the trumps over and unconsciously squaring them with one hand.
A slender woman dressed in gray entered the room. Her hair was long, and black like his was, but much straighter and silken. A mere slip of a girl, quite lovely in her own right, and his only child. Sometimes he felt his only burden as well, but for a girl he felt he couldn't have been more fortunate- respectful, intelligent, and obedient. She carried with her a covered tray, which she placed on his desk.
"What's this?" He asked, not even knowing even though it would have been perfectly obvious to anyone else.
She lifted the cover of the tray. "I made you some venison sandwiches in the kitchen, and the pot has coffee. Black like you take it." She smiled politely. Solicitously?
Prince Eric didn't know what to say. "Uh, I could have had Lufta bring me something." Two generous sandwiches, a teapot with what smelled like a good earthy brew of coffee. A white linen napkin folded neatly and precisely.
"You didn't come for dinner, and I just didn't want you to go hungry. I know you get distracted when something's on your mind."
He was suspicious for an instant; they (the family) just didn't do things like this for each other. It was beneath them to wait on one another, and they did fend for themselves often enough, but more out of a sense of expedience. But he pushed that suspicion away rapidly. This was Noys. "You made it.. Dear one?" He added the last part because it sounded nice, and he felt he should, she was his daughter.
"Oh yes, Father," she beamed placing a hand on his powerful arm.
Good. This being his secret residence and the cook being his daughter he felt comfortable eating it without concern. When he had to worry about his daughter Noys doing something to his food, then he decided he might as well forego being Heir entirely. He patted her hand absently. "You caught me at an awkward moment, child.. I.."
She nodded and removed her light touch. "I understand." She turned to leave.
In a sudden impulsive burst he turned to reach out and placed a powerful hand on her shoulder. She turned around in surprise. He stroked her cheek gently with back of his index finger. "Thank you." She brightened back to a smile, and whatever tugged at him inside (guilt?) was appeased.
He started to pick up one of the sandwiches when he called out to her, "Noys.."
"Yes Father?" she answered from the doorway, her serious eyes regarding him puzzedly.
"Things are not always.. very well around here Noys. I think I've explained that well enough. I know it difficult for you to understand sometimes, but I wouldn't want anything to happen to you because of me. At least until I was more in position to protect you. But.. Just in case, in the future, if anything should happen to me I want you to seek out my brother Gerard. Him specifically Noys, not the other two. He'll see that you're taken care of, and kept out of harms way. I know you're not a child any by any means, but just as a precaution."
The look of concern was unmistakable and she took a half step forward. He waved her off. "Just a precaution. You're not to worry." He smiled that winning and kindly smile he'd perfected from watching his father till he thought he'd wretch. "Just in case. Everything's okay." She nodded again, and quietly left the way she came closing the door quietly.
He stopped long enough to wolf down one of the sandwiches, which had proven to be a good idea on the girl's part, and pour a cup of coffee. Everything would be all right, just so long as some parties did as well as Noys did without asking. He flipped the whole trump deck over, revealing the one on top to be Florimel.
Yes, everything was going to okay, just so long as Corwin-
Shuffle
Moiré glided into the private practice area almost unnoticed. She had spent of much her life in the sight of her people her role demanding it. Now that she was past any true vestige of innocent youth, she set it aside as much as she could.
She regarded her niece 'Tina.' A fair and comely child, or would be one day. She was no more ten old, just a sigh in the lifetime that Moiré herself had lived. There was a time when watching the lass hurt far too much. Too many bad memories of her own daughter Morganthe, and her tragic and disappointing grandson.
Tina was doing very well. She had the natural grace of her mother, with a touch of her father's athletic attributes. Biting her lip, Moiré kept to the shadows, her hand reaching unconsciously for her Sapphire that dangled between her breasts.
It was just a matter of time when the Errant Prince was unfortunate to wander back through these parts again. May the spirit of Hydrana herself protect him, because no one else will. But that wasn't going to be enough. She had some long-term ideas in mind. She knew most of the Amber Princes underestimated her, they all considered females useless (laughable in her opinion), but she wagered few of them knew just how far off the mark they really were. Yes indeed, she saw a future when-
Shuffle
"That is not my fault!" he shouted, punctuating each word. He realized too late that he was shouting. The mirror he'd been facing suddenly shattered in an audible 'crack!' leaving a spiderweb tracery across its surface.
Across the room, Fiona took a drag off her cigarette, regarded her brother for a moment before exhaling slowly. She lay reclined on a sofa, her legs tucked underneath her. She unfolded them to sit up, giving him her attention now that his other conversation was quite over.
"Whenever you talk to him it always comes down to that, and invariably it always gets the same response." As if in confirmation, the glass fell from it's frame in a loud splintering crash, from which Bleys took a nimble step backwards. Fiona's lips curled ever so slightly at the coincidence. "I take it that he's not totally in agreement." It was a statement not a question.
Bleys regarded the broken glass at his feet and took in a deep breath and sighed. "Who would have thought that he could be that stubborn?"
"Nothing ventured, nothing gained," she offered.
"That doesn't do anything for our current dilemma," he snapped.
She gave him a cool look to remind him that she, his closest sibling, was the last one that he wanted to take that tone with. "We have no evidence that he's gone outside of our own cabal. Not that I wouldn't put it past him for a heartbeat, but don't you think it's premature to worry yourself this much?"
The anxiety in his face faded almost instantly. He walked to the sidebar to pour himself a brandy. "Yes.. I suppose. We both know he has some new tricks he's not mentioning."
"And would you?"
"Not necessarily, but then our designs have always been much more pragmatic. Rulership, power, Brand clouds himself with this visionary nonsense, this idealism and desire for radical change. A man interested in ruling the universe is easier to understand to than one interested in improving it, at least in my opinion."
"It does make his motivations... rather questionable," she conceded. "He definitely bears watching, I certainly concede that. I do have to point out that we agreed to keep this within our own family for a reason."
Bleys snorted. "The ‘Red's are thick and thieves and always stick together’, that's a crock of horseshit if I ever heard it. Where is Van then pray tell?" he sneered but not directly at her. "Brandeigh is abstaining, Lorius is a fine magician but has no fist in his glove-"
She frowned at the mention of her own children. "We agreed too many would have been a liability."
"I didn’t anticipate Brand becoming increasingly unstable I just wish-"
She cut him off, "You just wish you had Delwin instead of Brand, when the fact is we don’t have Delwin- we have Brand. You need to set that aside and move on from there."
He started to pace. His first step no longer avoiding the broken glass, but crunching it beneath his boots. "I made a mistake. We should have swung the other way. I should have never listened to Brand. We all knew that two-bit thug Carl did it."
"No, we didn’t," she corrected. "I’m sure he did, but we had no proof and whatever did happen was no more relevant then, as it is now."
"Oh it’s very relevant if we have to restrain Brand at some future point."
"It was practical to keep a low profile and not draw any attention to ourselves. You know the twins debacle got them to stop watching us quite so closely. At the time Brand was being practical, and all of your frustration is over a burned bridge. Well we couldn’t predict it coming back to haunt us."
He turned his head. "Corwin did."
She finally and surprisingly flashed to anger. Shaking her head she rose to her feet. "No. No, don’t you start ascribing some false nobility to that animal! I won’t listen to it! His entire-" she trembled, "farce of coming to Sand’s defense was nothing but a show for Julian and you’re a fool if you don’t believe it."
He took a step towards her as if to grab her by the shoulders and she stared at him with such force as if to smite him down if he did.
They stood not speaking, almost frozen for a time. Finally, he looked away, and her shoulders relaxed a fraction. "We’ll make do," she started and he agreed. "He was your apprentice and that carries a certain sentimentality that now must be-
Shuffle
It was far too early to be up, and dealing with this sort of crap. She hated to being consigned like some sort of ‘errand girl’ and that was exactly what he was doing. Damn you Eric! An unattractive inside made for an unattractive outside, she always thought.
She also believed she had little choice.
She rapped firmly on the door and silently hoped that Asteria would be alone. If she wasn’t, than her company would be making a quick exit. She needed that girl’s attention and she needed it now. Seizing the doorknob she turned it, flinging it open only as a mother could. Only her daughter to be seen. Thank goodness for small favors.
"Wake up, Dear. Now."
A yawning and considerably disheveled Asteria yawn and peeked at her through lidded eyes. She sighed internally, another late night I suppose she thought to herself. "What’s wrong?"
"I need to leave for a while, and I need to leave right now. You must decide if you’re staying here, or coming along."
Her eyes widened. "Where Mother?" An unmistakable tone of excitement.
She shook her head. "Europe, and as soon as possible."
"Oh, not Amber" the younger red head pouted.
"You know there are reasons I have to stay here, Dear. You know that." What she didn’t know were the specifics- that her Uncle lived in this same Shadow, currently in the guise of Col. Carl Corey, war correspondent. That she was Corwin’s keeper, at the beck and call of her other brother, Eric. Eric, who wanted an immediate and accurate report of his ‘beloved’ brother’s status.
"It’s not fair!" Asteria cried out.
"Get used to it my dear," Florimel murmured as she shut the door. "It’s a man’s-
Shuffle
"I will not stand for being a prisoner here!"
"Officially I would say that you aren’t," said Llewella sipping her tea. Her poise and grace, always superior in any situation, was only amplified by Deirdre’s furious pacing across the library floor. "I confess, this does have every appearance of anything from ‘strongly recommended’ to ‘house arrest.’ You know you have my deepest sympathies in this regard."
Llewella had few in the family with which she had anything remotely in common. To consider herself to be a legitimate member of the Amber royal line was for her, a lonely thing. She had one stepsister Sand with whom she had been close to- but she was gone now, perhaps for good. Driven away by the rest. Sometimes she thought, if it were not for the sanctuary of Rebma, she would have gone as well. Deirdre- now their unlikely association was a recent and tenuous thing.
Deirdre had been spending a fair amount of time in Rebma, and it began from those humble roots. There was no sisterly feelings that she and Moiré, or she and Sand had, but they had never really spent any time together before Corwin’s death.
"I take one step out off the grounds and I swear I can feel the eyes of the Weir right behind me. I complain and he insists it’s for my own protection. Ha! As if I couldn’t protect myself."
Llewella studied her, almost from an abstract pose. Deirdre was just about to ask what it was she was staring at, when the other parted soft lips, "Really dear, ‘men’ are not so opaque."
Deirdre frowned at her, not enjoying the condescension. Turnabout came with lighting a cigarette, knowing the Llewella detested the habit. Taking a drag, she finally uttered, "Alright, explain."
"He acts like he’s afraid of something."
"Eric?"
Llewella smiled, "You’re too close to him to see it like I do. I know your brother very well. Consider, he has no real competitor for the throne since Bleys hasn’t made a move. The disturbances in Shadow are a concern, but not the threat he’s touting. Rilga’s children support him. So, ask yourself, what is he so concerned about? What would be one thing that would needle at him in a time like this, and would only further him to keep tabs on you?"
Deirdre’s blue eyes flashed dangerously. "No. You don’t think.."
"Covering up the evidence perhaps? I don’t know- the possibilities are endless. You know how dangerous he could be, and especially to Eric."
She took another puff, to keep from biting her lip. Oh, this made too much sense. I’m not being protected, she thought, I’m being watched. She made up her mind right there and then that she was going to leave Amber sometime soon. How and to where remained to be-
Shuffle
Carl and his band burst through the door of the lodge. Their laughter filled the room, along with a few of the ‘chosen’ pack. Julian, Master of the Hunt, stood in silent reproach in the shadows of the firelight. He stood still as a statue and waited for them to relax, gauging their recklessness with the time it took them to take notice of him. It took two minutes. Two minutes too long. Besides- if the hounds hadn’t come snuffling up to him in greeting, who knows how long it may have been?
"Carl," he said simply, yet the ice that shrouded the way he spoke that name made everyone of them start.
"Come with me."
And in private, the important parts of their conversation went as such…
"So, have I made myself clear? We’re to soon have a new King. And thanks to you, he has my full and unconditional support in this. And if that fact doesn’t make this abundantly clear, that means he has your full support as well."
Not understanding where his father’s unexpected hostility came from after receiving a trump call from Eric, Carl nevertheless started to become bullheaded. "Why Dad."
"Because I told you so," Julian said very quietly and very slowly. Carl started to open his mouth again, but the piercing stare jabbing through his own eyes held him where he was. "Because we owe it to him. I am indebted. A debt I incurred to protect you from yourself, boy." His son flushed in anger.
"I didn’t need anyone’s protection." He smirked, "Even if I had done something like you’re implying Dad, there would be no proof."
That glacial stare froze his confidence yet again. "You had no confidence in Corwin’s ability find something? You really and honestly don’t believe your Grandfather wouldn’t have acted against you had he been confronted face to face with evidence? You’re a fool on both counts. The former was digging your grave and the later would have hung you. Eric’s lobbying of Oberon to dismiss the entire investigation is what has you standing here today. Listening to what I tell you to do."
Carl looked like he was about to utter an oath. "Sometimes I think you’re sorry."
"I am sorry. Sorry that you were such an obvious suspect, thanks to your demonstrative show of sublime grief, not to mention your malice that was anything but discreet. Tell me Carl, what makes you think you were the only one with anything like it in mind?"
Carl’s mouth opened slightly in surprise.
"Now I waste my resources covering up your lack of foresight. Now ‘we’ play lap dogs to my brother until he’s safely crowned and then we can forget the entire affair. I would have chosen him anyway, for the sake of Amber- but under my terms. That’s an option now closed."
The younger man swallowed thickly, as his father continued. "Tomorrow my son, I want you to take that rabble of yours, and do another sweep of the southern perimeter. More creatures have been sighted, and I want you to make sure it’s secure. That and I don’t want to look at you for awhile"
Carl tried to muster up the courage to reply, but Julian turn his back and walked right-
Shuffle
Captain Vandross dismissed his subordinates, and entered his pavilion. The Prince had already retired early, as he was prone to do these days. He doubted the man would be much good, should the Menhites make a surprise attack.
Prince Jayson used to be an invaluable asset to any campaign. Now it was like he was broken. This wasn’t working.
It was also his secret responsibility to report it.
He set his lantern down carefully, warding away the darkness. Most of his armor already unbuckled by his squire; he removed the rest of it. He gave a little pause, listening to hear if anyone may be moving outside. What did it matter if they did? No minor ambition would be served eavesdropping on this conversation. No one here had the stones or the wits to make any use of it, save him and the one already asleep.
He picked his shield, hesitantly, with an odd anticipation. Buying some more time, he applied some oil and polish to the exterior, and wiped it clean. Slowly he reversed it, and peered into it like a great saucer.
There in the center, underneath it sat an etching in the usually durable bronze surface, an etching of his Queen, Sand. Sand the Sorceress they called her behind her back.
He concentrated on it for while the lantern oil burned low. And then he felt the shield grow cold.
"Captain," her voice almost like a low purr. "And how goes the war effort?" The etching came alive revealing her at a desk in her study at Tilaine.
"Fair my Queen. Would that we’d captured Hadrok, I think we could have really given the Dragon Kings something to consider. Actually, I am questioning whether the reports we received were true at all. The razing of the village of Arany wasn’t his style."
"Interesting," she said followed by a pause. "And my son?"
Vandross cleared his throat politely. "The melancholy has not abandoned him, I’m afraid."
"He has not," she gestured wearily, "snapped out of it at all?"
The Captain shrugged. "He participates with the strategic ends of things- he’s definitely ‘aware’. But when not planning, preparing, or recovering from battle- all he does is pray."
"Prayer, prayer, all this praying and nothing ever reaches him!" she snapped causing him to steel himself, lest he flinch. "It’s as if he’s determined to act dead as well."
"Perhaps my Queen- if I may speak freely, maybe you’re not.. Well it’s like this- in a way he has curled up inside like a turtle."
She scowled openly at the remark, but prompted him, "go on."
"Maybe you need the right enticement for him to come out of it." He felt he was on rocky ground, and started to backtrack. "Of course that is just how a soldier would think, My Lady, forgive any impertinence-
"Maybe you’re correct." She pursed her lips for a second. "Maybe, that vulgar sentiment about getting back in the saddle is what’s required here. Something has to break him out of this damn funk. I’ll consider it. Well-done Captain, I deplore a man who is afraid to speak- just as much as one who has nothing worthwhile to say.
"In the meantime, I’d like you to take your command and-
Shuffle
He sat in seclusion, in a very small room. Nevertheless he towered over them all. Baralis contemplated the chessboard before him, and found the ‘field’ to his satisfaction. No game was really in progress; to the contrary he was just pushing pieces across the board in an amusing little pattern. Childish, he thought to himself, but a man as old as he was allowed some eccentric behavior. He drank his brandy, and stared at the little panoramic display he’d made.
Bleys was facing Eric. Poor Bleys, no easy throne for him, and if his sources were correct, there never would be. The twins sulked in isolation. Brand spinning around and around in his own mad little dream. Corwin dead, or lost- preferably the former. Oberon sat on the sidelines, no one being willing, or able to help him.
It was an easy thing to alter destiny. At the time it made no sense to him that the death of Rilga would avert Bley’s ascension. Now, however, it was crystal clear. With Rilga’s sons united in strength behind the one person to counter balance Bleys, the latter had no clear path and was deprived of the one ally that could tip the balance. The fact that someone must have finally stuck a blade in Corwin only made things that much sweeter.
"Build your empty centopaths, construct your hallowed monuments, it makes no difference in the end," he laughed. "You destroy yourselves from within, it was in your line from the very beginning." He regarded Oberon. "You nearly killed us to a man, except that fool Sharu and I, now I’m evening the score one at a time."
He picked up his favorite piece. A knight fashioned to look like an archer. "And I have you to thank my young friend. Why, it’s the nicest thing that anyone’s ever done for me." He rose and prepared to-
Shuffle
-end-