KingsAndDesperateRebmansKings and Desperate RebmansMeriel looked around again, almost dazed. "I think," she said quietly, "I think I need to see the King." With Castor and Pollux gone, Noys looks at Martin. "Don't look at me, cousin." Martin says with a grin. "Dad will want to know the status of a project I'm doing for him, and um, I'm behind schedule. You take her, Noys. Call it a favor owed. Just don't say I'm here, all right?" "That will cost *two* favors." Noys smiles as she replies. Martin boggles his eyes. "You drive a hard bargain. Deal." He looks to Meriel. "Good luck, and I will see you later." Meriel nods, showing something still if the tension she has displayed since he led her so close to Moire. "Thanks," she says briefly. Martin turns and pulls out his device again and stares at it. And he vanishes into a rainbow of trump energy. In the meantime, Noys takes Meriel's arm in hers. "Now, Meriel, you want to see the King, yes? Come, and we'll get you inside. We might want to do something about drying you out, though. Perhaps a change of clothes. Don't want Random to think you're trying to seduce him." Meriel frowns, puzzled. "Does he think that women generally are? Would he not be trying to seduce them?" Noys smiles and motions to lead Meriel toward the gate to the Castle as she responds. "It must be said that the King has a taste for Rebman women. Or bold women in general." Noys adds. "After all he married one, and then there was." Noys frowns slightly. "Queen Moire's daughter." She brightens quickly. "Anyway, he knows the reputation Rebman females have. And likes it. So, if you met him dressed like that, he might be taking it that way. About the only Rebman I ever seen him not warm to is the Charge D'Affaires, Concheta Ap Nerys." The name and position is known to Meriel, a social climber with not much diplomatic talent who was named representative from Rebma to Amber some time ago. Opinion was that Moire simply wanted her out of the Court and at the time, considered it a relatively harmless position that would look like a chance at advancement. Meriel simply nods, storing the information away. "I have some spare clothes in my haversack," she says. "I'm not sure they are any more appropriate for meeting a King of Amber. And if he takes my mode of dressing ... incorrectly... then I am sure he will soon realise that he is mistaken." Noys grins. "Indeed, he would." At this point, they have reached the Gate to the Castle and the guards give nods and a bow to Noys as the two of them pass by them, and inside. "We'll stop by my rooms, you can change, into your spare clothes or mine if they will fit, and get you into see Uncle Random. Probably warn him before you pop in." Noys looks thoughtful as she leads Meriel into corridors which are slightly familiar to Meriel...except for the distinct lack of Rebma's ubiquitous mirrors. If they do pass a mirror, Meriel gives a little wave and wears an expression that comes close to being a smirk. There are mirrors here and there, although not quite as nice as the ones in Rebma. There is no evidence of anything other than an ordinary reflection the time Meriel passes one, however. Meriel would be shocked if there were any evidence to the contrary. Only the best and most senior scryers, after all, are used on Amber Castle. "No swimming up staircases here I am afraid." Noys says as they reach a large staircase at the rear of the Castle. Meriel sighs. "I don't know how you people *stand* living in air the whole time!" she confesses as they begin to make their way upwards. If we could fly, then it might be bearable. But being tied to solid matter like this! It's awful!" Noys brightens at Meriel's admission and a giddiness comes into her eyes. "Lorius! He's Fiona's son, my cousin. Redhead. likes to fly. Levitate, really, but he's of the same opinion as you." "I've even seen him levitate others." Noys adds as she turns off the staircase at the second landing and down a hallway. "Don't know if he's been to Rebma, not sure if you've ever met him." While William has been a favorite target for Meriel, occasionally a red haired family member has shown up in her scrying that sounds like Lorius, complete with "floating". He's on the "Scry with caution" list, though, because of his sorcerous abilities. It would not do for him to actually notice such attention because of carelessness. Meriel decides not to offer any comment on this, so she simply gives a short nod and an unusually cautious, "I think I've heard his name mentioned ... " "Here we are." Noys steps to a door at the end of a small hallway. She opens up the door, and gestures for Meriel to step in. "My aunts and uncles get bigger rooms, of course, but its home." "I'm sure it's delightful," says Meriel politely, and then she passes into the room. Noys is definitely modest. Its a decent sized suite, the rooms that Noys lets Meriel into. Sitting room, bedroom, a "third room" that seems to be multipurpose, and a bath. There is a mirror, with a grey metal lattice frame. The accents of the room, come to think of it, are mostly in black and grey, with touches of crimson for an additional color. Noys walks past Meriel and into the bedroom. She stops and puts her hands on her hips. Turning around, she eyeballs Meriel. "I do have a dress or two you might use, if you didn't want to use your extra ones." she offers. "Mostly in black and grey, although I have a dark blue one that might suit a Rebman." "Or..." she gestures toward the bath. "you simply can wash up, change into your own. Your choice." "Hmmmm," says Meriel thoughtfully. "Purple and green are more my colours ... could I see the dark blue? Perhaps I could decorate it ... would you mind if I borrowed your mirror? Rather permanently, I'm afraid." "Borrow my mirror?" Noys regards Meriel with a curious expression. She pauses and considers this. "Its not an heirloom of Father's or anything. I can always replace it at need. I admit that I am curious as to what you mean by borrowing it permanently." She walks to her closet and brings back a dark blue dress. Made of silk or some similar material, its not quite diaphanous, but it would certainly not be skin tight. "Here's the dress." Noys offers. "And of course, the mirror." After giving Meriel the dress, she takes a seat and watches the Rebman intently. "Thank you," says Meriel politely. The next few minutes are spent getting out of her wet clothes and putting on the new dress. Meriel arranges the folds carefully to her satisfaction, and almost coos at the way the demi-train flows from her waist to fall like a ripple of deep blue water behind her. Then she picks up the mirror and regards it for a moment with wicked enjoyment."Sorry," she says - and Noys suspects that she is not the person addressed. "This is going to give you a really, really bad headache." Although she clearly recognizes Meriel is talking to, or about someone else, the dark haired Amberite raises an eyebrow. Then she smashes the mirror to the stone floor. Noys gasps. It shatters (inevitably) and shards fly out. Miraculously, it seems, none lacerates either Noyes or Meriel, who is watching the devastation with a grin that is definitely impish. The shards fall with a musical sound, like little steel bells being struck by tiny iron hammers - not the most plausible of sounds, perhaps, but there are forces at work here beyond the mundane. Meriel waits till they are glittering dust and damage at her feet. Then, smiling, she holds out her arms. "Come," she says simply. There is a stirring among the debris of the floor, as if stirred by a stiff breeze. And then, suddenly, it lifts and twists and twines around Meriel so that, to Noys, it looks as though the Rebman is surrounded by a small but very glittery tornado. Three times ... four times ... and then it seems to settle, like a ripple fades into water, and suddenly the plain blue dress is plain no longer. As Meriel moves, it shimmers with reflected light, like the night sea lying restive under a full moon, and reflecting the radiance of the stars. Meriel raises her arms, and her very skin seems to glitter; the dust of the mirror clings to her skin, and her hair is woven with glittering points of light as the shards there reflect the illumination of the room. She looks quite unearthly ... which is perhaps the point. Noys lips are slightly parted, in shock. And then she smiles. "Anyone trying to look through this mirror," says Meriel, with satisfaction, "will very rapidly go mad. Can we go and find the King now?" "Anyone trying to look at you too long might do the same." she says with a smile as she moves forward, picking up the remnants of the frame that formerly housed the mirror and putting it to the side. Meriel raises her arms, and her very skin seems to glitter; the dust of the mirror clings to her skin, and her hair is woven with glittering points of light as the shards there reflect the illumination of the room. She looks quite unearthly ... which is perhaps the point. Noys lips are slightly parted, in shock. And then she smiles. "Anyone trying to look through this mirror," says Meriel, with satisfaction, "will very rapidly go mad. Can we go and find the King now?" "Anyone trying to look at you too long might do the same." she says with a smile as she moves forward, picking up the remnants of the frame that formerly housed the mirror and putting it to the side. "If you want to make an impression on everyone that sees you from here to his quarters, and the King himself, you will succeed." "Hmm," says Meriel. She looks down at herself thoughtfully, her eyes slightly narrowed. "Come." Noys adds. "The Royal Suite is two floors up; His Majesty is most likely to be there at this hour." She walks to the door to her quarters and waits for Meriel to follow her. She gives one last glance at the site of the smashed mirror, blinks her eyes and then waits by the door for Meriel to follow her out. "I think," says Meriel, "that I should wear a cloak. "With a hood. And I'll try to be careful, but it might get a little ripped on the shards. But I'd rather save the impression for the King himself." She looks hopefully at Noys.Noys stops and turns to regard Meriel. "A cloak and a hood." Enlightenment crosses her face. "A wrap of some sort..." She wanders back into the bedroom and into the closet. "Let's see..." There is the sound of sliding clothes and unintelligible side comments from Noys. Its a couple of minutes later that Noys emerges with it. It's a cloak with a hood, blood red, with accents of gold and black. "I didn't expect to share so much of my closet with you, Meriel." Noys says. However, her tone is gentle and she is smiling as she brings the cloak with the hood out to her. "Brandeigh talked me into getting this. Flora held a costume ball a few seasons back. Its from a fairy tale character from the shadow she loves so." Meriel blinks. "It's not a colour we see beneath the waves very often," she says thoughtfully. "Our spectrum is different to yours, I think. Even through the mirror ... " She takes the cloak and strokes it gently. "It's very ... vibrant. Do you think I will really pass unseen in this?" But she is taking the cloak even as she speaks, swinging it over her shoulders and drawing the hood carefully over her hair ... "Let's go now," she says. "Think of it as protective coloration." Noys says as she guides Meriel out of her quarters and into the hallways. "You will be seen, and remarked upon, that's unavoidable. However, wearing this, people will see a Rebman dressed in garb, and will completely *miss* that trick you did with the mirror glass on my...your dress." And it must be noted that, as they progress through the Castle, while the guards and servants do look at Meriel, and the red cloak and hood she wears, the Mirror Dress is covered, and where it isn't covered, the eyes catch the cloak and hood rather than the surprise for Random. It's another two flights of stairs, though, that Noys leads Meriel upward. Even Noys has slowed down a fraction by the time the pair reach what is now the third floor above ground, or the fourth floor overall. Down a short corridor to a door flanked by more guards, Noys confidently leads Meriel. The guards, one male, one female raise eyebrows at Meriel's approach. "Good evening, Princess." the female of the guards says to Meriel's guide. After a moment, her green eyes turn from Noys to Meriel. "And who is this? To see the Queen?" Both guards regard Meriel expectantly. "I am here to see the King," said Meriel with complete confidence. "I have an urgent message for him, and the support of the the Lady Noys here. I am Meriel of Rebma and you will announce me now." "Another Rebman?" one of the guards says with a skeptical eye. "We're both acquainted with the Lady Priya." Noys says. "Now, you wouldn't want, say, her Highness to learn that a kinswoman was unduly and ungainly treated?" The guards look from Noys to Meriel and seem to come to a decision together. The female gives the male a significant look, and opens the door to slip inside. A few minutes later, she slips back out, leaving the door ajar. Her brown eyes regard Meriel. "His Majesty is finishing a bit of business, but bids you enter and be welcome in the interim." "Thank you," says Meriel, with all the graciousness of one who has got her own way. She pushes open the door and walks in. Meriel enters into a front room that wouldn't be too dissonant in Rebma. Oh, its clearly a room meant for the surface world. There are no corals, or features carved into the walls, but the tones of the room have a sea blue along with the dominant forest green and gold. Its an intimate room, with a couple of couches and a table between. With the quiet efficiency of one skilled as such, an elderly man steps out from a corner and regards the visitor. He gives a bow of the head. "Good eve, Miss Meriel." He gestures toward a sideboard with two pots and cups arranged next to each. May I offer you tea or coffee while you wait for his Highness?" Meriel regards the cups with considerable suspicion. "No, thank you," she says politely. Only a few minutes later, and one of the doors to this room open, revealing a short, dirty blonde haired man who does, after all, resemble Martin in the facial features. His eyes fix upon Meriel with a grin as he walks toward her. Behind him is Martin. "You must be Meriel. I'm Random the first, King of Amber. Not that I am going to saddle any son of mine with my name. You already know Martin here, of course.""Thanks, Silas." Random says to the servant, briefly glancing at him. "You can go. I think we'll rough it." "Very good, sir." Silas says in a patient tone and heads for one of the other doors out of the suite. Meriel draws a deep breath, and busies herself for a moment in untying the strings on the red cloak. It gives her a moment to weigh up the scene, the fact that Martin (who knows her, but who also almost led her back into Moire's clutches) is present, and to take in the man who stands before her. Random watches her with a quizzical expression. When she's satisfied, she lets the hood slip back, and then the cloak slide from her, pooling suddenly around her feet, so that she might be standing in a circle of flame ... or a pool of blood. And within that, she is dressed in the borrowed gown, embellished with the mirror shards so that the rich dark blue fabric shimmers with reflected light, like the night sea lying restive under a full moon, and reflecting the radiance of the stars. Meriel lifts her arms to raise the skirt slightly, and her very skin seems to glitter; the dust of the mirror clings to her skin, and her hair is woven with glittering points of light as the shards there reflect the illumination of the room. "Wow," Martin says, and sounds like he means it. Random blinks with a look of unfettered surprise on his face that turns into a grin. Then she sinks into a deep curtsey, letting the mirror shards crazily reflect her own face and skin, but also catching glimpses of the room, Random and Martin. While Meriel clearly remembers Noys entering behind her, she is nowhere in evidence now. "This," she says composedly, "is the first time I've ever curtseyed to a man. It does seem rather strange. Will I have to do it often? One becomes accustomed, I suppose." Martin can't hide a grin. "You bet. And there's nothing sexier than saluting a man in the morning who... er... never mind. Can't quite fit the quote in there. But, um, no. Not often." "Hmmmm," says Meriel thoughtfully. "Generally a man would ... erm ... salute me in the morning ... although I've not heard it called that before. I see landies have even stranger customs than I realised ... " "As do Rebmans." Random says. He looks at Meriel, then at his son, and back at Meriel. "I take my son's reaction to your outfit to mean that it is as much of a surprise to him as it is to I." He looks at Martin for confirmation. Meriel's smile in response comes perilously near to be a smirk. Martin just smiles and nods, once. "I may have to send you back into the game room to get the Jameson's after all." Random adds to Martin as Random walks over to one of the pots and pours himself a cup. His eyes look enquiringly at his son, and Meriel respectively. He gets a nod and a toast from Martin. "You get points for style and first impression." Random says to Meriel, taking a sip of the contents of his cup and moving to one of the sitting couches after handing a cup to his son. "Sit down,Meriel, and tell me, besides seeking to affix you in the mind's eye, what brings you to my door?" Meriel looks doubtfully at the cups, and almost as doubtfully at the chairs, then drifts over and lowers herself onto another couch. "I want sanctuary," she says, "from Rebma. And the King's protection." She draws a deep breath. "I claim it by right of blood." "Do... what?" Martin says. "Didn't you make some kind of deal with Moire? You... did you say by blood?" Random doesn't quite make a spit take, but the look of surprise on the King's face is brief but sharp. He looks at the cup, looks at Meriel and then at Martin. "Knew I should have gotten the Jameson's." he mutters to his son. And then Random speaks,louder, he looks at Meriel. "I seem to have been misinformed as to your current status. The subject of Sanctuary we'll table for the moment, in favor of the more pressing matter." "Right." Random puts down the cup, and looks at the dazzling Meriel intently. "By what line of Amber do you claim descent, Meriel?" Meriel glances at Martin and says, "I'm sorry, Martin. I only found out recently - when they had me checking the records ... " Then she turns her attention to Random. "I was conceived and borne - and, actually, born as well, as payment for a debt. Your debt. My birth was Oberon's payment for your seduction of Morganthe." Random opens his mouth but doesn't speak. Martin's mouth works without sound a moment. "..Gah?" he manages, finally. His eyes narrow, and he stares at Meriel as if looking at her for the first time. Meriel glances at him and nods. "I only found out when I read the records," she admits. "When they had me on punishment detail for the shrim ... well. I just expanded my researches." Random narrows his eyes at Meriel suspiciously "My debt." He pauses and then continues "Are you claiming that you're a child of my father, Meriel?" Meriel's eyes widen in horror at the idea. "No I'm not! He's my *grandfather*!" She draws a deep breath. "I'm your niece, your Majesty. Oberon negotiated that for the Rebman that died, another should be born. And he gave them your sister for the purpose." She looks at him a little anxiously. "Did she die before she told you? That would be awfully inconvenient. I suppose I could prove it be walking the Pattern but, on the whole, I'd really rather not. It looked awful when Martin did it in Rebma." "My sister." Random says doubtfully. Martin glances away, revisiting just that memory; when he turns back, he stares at Random, then at Meriel. "Died? You mean... Deirdre?" "No," says Meriel. "No - I'm your full cousin, Martin. Just think - all those years and we never knew! No wonder they were cross we spent so much time together!" She turns back to Random. "I have the Rebman form of my mother's name, your Majesty." "Meriel." Random says aloud. And then its a thunderstruck look appears on his face. He shakes his head slightly as he says another word. "Mirelle." "If you showed up a week ago, there would be no proof here save for walking the Pattern." Random says briskly. "Mirelle has been called The Lost for good reason. As it so happens however..." "Excuse me for a moment. I shall return momentarily." Random rises and walks to one of the doors, opens it and departs the room. Martin lets the door close before he turns and gives Meriel a Look. "What," he says, "the hell." It sounds much more like a statement than it does a question. Meriel grins, a little ruefully. "Oh Martin - I said an awful lot more when I read the file. And when I saw you again this time, I was absolutely dying to tell you. But you had all those strange people in tow and really, I just couldn't say anything. Not until I reached Amber. "Where do you think the King's gone? Is there someone here who might know the story, d'you think? Because he clearly didn't." Martin shakes his head. "I dunno, unless Llewella's here, or something. We haven't really had all that much face-to-face bonding time, you know- I don't hardly ever know what he's thinking. And there's all those awkward moments here and there, like the time I game him a Trump- powered shaver that nearly electrocuted him..." "Which I have not forgotten." comes the voice of Random. He re-emerges from the door he exited, with someone, obscured, behind him. He steps to the side, and a woman, about his height, with blond curly hair, and looking slightly younger than Random comes into view. (Casting call: Meg Ryan) Meriel and Martin both can see the resemblance. The facial features, the bearing are eerily similar to the Rebman mirror sorceress. Long-lashed eyes blink and look at Meriel uncertainly, and then a brief, winning smile. "Meriel, Martin." Random speaks first. "This is Mirelle. Mir, this is my son, Martin...and your daughter. Isn't she?" "Yes..." Mirelle says hesitantly, in a slightly distracted, dream-like look to her countenance. She takes one, two tentative steps in the direction of Martin and Meriel and stops her forward motion. Meriel's eyes are wide with shock. She seems about to speak ... stops ... swallows. "I thought you were dead!" The words come out very nearly as a squeak. She swallows once more, and tries again. "That was what they said - both sides of the waters. That you were ... " She stops, and simply stares at Mirelle. "What," Martin repeats, "the hell." Then he realizes who he's talking to, and adds, "Sorry. Hullo, Aunt Mirelle. The reports of your death were, um, greatly exaggerated." Mirelle looks at Random quizzically. Random shrugs. "Martin wasn't in the Castle when you came back. And when he did get back, he was soon off again on other adventures, from which he just returned." Mirelle shakes her head in an air of exasperation. She sizes up Martin. "It's good to meet you, Martin." she says with a smile that is the feminine equivalent of Random's grin. She then turns her head and attention firmly on Meriel. She walks toward her and reaches out to put her hands on the Rebmans shoulders.There is patience, and sadness, and happiness mixed in her eyes, wet with emotional tears. "I was imprisoned for a long time, Meriel. A very long time." Mirelle says softly. "I've only recently...very recently become free." "I was told a lie just as you were, Meriel." Mirelle says. "I was told that you did not long survive your birth." She closes her eyes. "I was...I was told that you died." "Well," says Meriel, "that was awful for you, I'm sure - but I'm surprised you didn't take everything they said to you with a huge pinch of cardamom after the way they'd treated you. I mean, Father's all right, but you were pretty much forced into marrying him - and in having me. So honestly, once I found out who I was, the thing that surprised me *least* was that you dried your hands of me as soon after I was born as possible. In fact, when I realised you were my mother, I was only sorry you hadn't lived long enough for me to apologise to you for having to go through it all. So I shall apologise now. Not for being born, of course - I can't regret *that*. But that you were forced into having me." Mirelle seems uncertain how to take this, and watches and listens to Meriel with a slightly puzzled expression. She takes back a step. She looks at Mirelle worriedly. "I suppose it's going to complicate things, having me around. I'd still like to claim asylum, though. I'm not going back to be shut up in a room with a mirror for half eternity again." Martin stays quiet and to the side, watching the reactions from everyone else. "Random, we have to accept it." Mirelle says looking at the King. Random sighs and looks at Mirelle, then Martin, and then finally Meriel. "Rebma's little declaration of independence makes things complicated and easy at the same time." Random says. "All right. Here is what we are going to do. If you're going to be in, you have to bet all in." He looks at Martin. "You haven't taught her poker, have you?" Martin shakes his head. "Meriel's like the ultimate pit boss," he says. "Sees everybody's hands at once. I'd say she knows already." "A pit boss." Random looks from Martin to Meriel. "Right." Random says, looking at Meriel again. "Okay, Pit Bosslady, You want asylum, you have to take the whole fish with the head. You'll have asylum as a matter of course...if you accept your status as a member of this family, and swear fealty to me. There are only one of two prerequisites needed for that; and Mirelle swearing that you're her daughter is the one pertinent here." Mirelle gives a nod, and along with Random, looks at Meriel. "You're not going to look me in a room in front of a mirror, are you?" says Meriel. "If I swear ... will you swear to that, too?" Random looks both puzzled and scandalized. He looks at Martin and mouths the words "lock her in front of a mirror?" Meriel's training with mirror watching allows her to easily see the words. Mirelle, too looks puzzled. Martin just mouths the words, 'pit boss, eternally'. After a moment waiting for Martin to respond, Random shakes his head. "As Martin can tell you, the Oath of Fealty runs in both directions, Meriel. Although we wouldn't have the grotty details in the official ceremony, if you wish it as part of my side of the Oath that I swear never to lock you in a room with a mirror, then that is something I can agree to." Meriel favours him with a radiant smile. "Then I'll swear, and happily too." He looks at Meriel with a smile. "I find much more interesting things for my nieces and nephews to do than sit in their rooms. Martin can tell you about that, too." Meriel turns to Martin expectantly. "Like visiting Paris," Martin says. "I told you a little about it. Dad often asks us to go places, do things, get the lay of the land. It's almost never easy." Mirelle. "You're going to use my daughter in your adventures for Amber?" she asks incredulously. "Oh, Mir." Random chuckles. "If she wants to live in the House, and have this asylum she needs from Queen crabbypants, then she's gotta pay the rent." "Besides, she did fine with her first taste of field work, didn't she, Martin?" Random looks to his son. Random then turns toward Meriel. "All right, Meriel. Let's do the director's cut here, and the more formal one tomorrow. If you haven't changed your mind, kneel before your sovereign." Meriel looks at him, startled. "Kneel? Is that customary?" Martin suddenly looks away; either he's stifling a response, or holding back a burst of laughter. Random shoots a look at Martin. He then looks at Meriel. "If stiff backed Julian can kneel to me." Random replies with a grin. "So can you, Meriel. And yes, its customary. Why, does Queen Crab...Moire do it differently?" Random asks. Meriel seems on the point of a response when she appears to think better of it and sinks - one might almost says, "flows" to her knees, lifting her face to look up limpidly at Random. "What should I say?" she asks. Martin, for his part, moves to the left and behind of Meriel, in the accepted position of a male in support of a female at Court in Rebma. He stays silent. Random's eyes flicker from Meriel to Martin. His appraising gaze take in Martin's motion and position. He gives his son a nod in recognition of his gesture. Mirelle offers the kneeling Meriel a reassuring smile but says nothing. He then focuses back on Meriel. "There is a formula that the oath-taker personalizes. Their name and position, and their pledge to serve." Random says to Meriel. "To give you an example, the oath that my son gave me, who now stands behind you swore to me. A moment." Random closes his eyes. "Oh, yes. "I, Martin, son of Random son of Oberon and of Morganthe daughter of Moire, do pledge you, Random son of Oberon, rightful king of Amber, the service of my hands and my heart until my final death or the world ends. May they never fail you. And may the Unicorn witness my oath." He looks at Martin. "Or close to those words, as I remember. I then respond in kind as liege lord." "And chocolate ice cream. Don't forget the chocolate ice cream," Martin says. Random returns to look at Meriel. "And no more locked rooms with mirrors?" says Meriel. She takes a deep breath. "That will come for my response." Random says confidently. Mirelle and Random watch Meriel and listen. "I, Meriel daughter of Mirelle - even though I didn't know that till recently! - daughter of Paulette - at least, I think ... they didn't really teach Amberite history in any depth so I'm not as certain as a shark about that one ... do pledge you, Random, son of Oberon and - do you mind me adding Paulette? because it sounds awfully strange to me *not* to mention your mother at a time like this - rightful king and - more to the point - rightful *ruler* of Amber, the service of my hands and my heart until my final death - I say, am I to expect non-final ones? Is that what happened to - oh, never mind that now - my final death or the inundation of the stars in the great sea. May I never fail you. And may the Unicorn and the Kraken witness my oath. Although probably not from the same place." Martin is smiling. Heroically, he doesn't roll his eyes. "Mazal Tov." Mirelle smiles slightly at Meriel. Random takes a deep breath and then nods and responds. "I, Random, King of Amber, hear your oath and shall remember. I do swear I shall defend you and yours with all my power, until your death or the world ends. And I swear never to lock you in a room with a mirror. May the Unicorn witness my oath." He touches Meriel's shoulder in a silent gesture for her to rise, "It will go much more smoothly tomorrow, but that's just for public consumption." Random says. "Far as I am concerned, now you're family. Princess Meriel." "Princess?" Meriel's nose wrinkles. "Is that necessary?" "Yes" Random says with a smile. Martin claps his hands together once. "Outstanding," he says. "Course, there's lots of rooms actually with mirrors here. And then there's the Hall..." Meriel smiles wickedly. "Oh, now I'm planning at waving at all of them," she tells him. She looks questioningly at Random. "What should I do now?" Random looks indulgently at Meriel. "First of all, given the lateness of the hour, its time for you to get some rest. At this hour and without the officialness of Court, temporary quarters for the night will have to do. I am sure Martin can show you the way to the Chamberlain's office to handle that." He looks at Martin. "It seems that *he* never sleeps in any event. You'll take care of it, right?" he says. Martin nods. "Got it." Random nods. "Good." Random then looks at Meriel. "In the morning, you will attend Court and we will do this again, formally. Even if we just did the legal portion." Meriel nods. She seems, unusually, a little dazed. Random looks at Mirelle. She looks at Random, then at Meriel and smiles at her daughter. "No objections, brother." "Thank you," says Meriel politely to Random. Then she looks worriedly at Mirelle. "I'm not sure what you want to do about this ... daughter thing," she says. "I mean ... if you want, we can pretend I'm someone else's daughter, and you can forget all about me. It must be a bit of a shock, realising I didn't die. Well, it has been for me too, realising *you* didn't die - but I didn't have to go through the forced marriage and bearing a child bit first. And, really, being told you'd abandoned me ... well, once I was old enough, I honestly didn't mind." Martin's eyebrows rise. He looks at Random, then back to Meriel, wondering if his father is thinking of that first meeting with him and Corwin. Random clearly looks thoughful, for as Meriel speaks, Random is looking more at his son than at Mirelle's daughter. "I think this is going to be extremely difficult for both of us." Mirelle says after a very long moment. "I don't want to pretend you are someone else's. It would make things difficult for my brother. And for me. And, I expect, for you. I would rather not disown you Meriel. I've already abandoned you once." Flushed and flustered, Mirelle touches a hand to her forehead. "I...I must withdraw. Excuse me." And Mirelle, mother of Meriel quickly retreats out of the room. "I'd better go and see to my sister. I forget that she's only several days removed from decades of imprisonment." He looks at Meriel "in a room without a mirror." "Family." Random finishes "is the best and worst thing about Amber." "That would have been worse," agrees Meriel. Then her eyes widen. "Was it someone in the family who locked her up?" Martin looks immediately flustered. "Who?" "It was not family, as far as I am aware." Random says briskly. "And learning more about this might be the first 'mission' I give you, Meriel. My sister, though, has not been very forthcoming about her ordeal. Unfortunately, the one other person who knows as much as Mir about it is not available to talk to...since she has up and vanished without a trace a few days ago." He looks at Meriel and Martin. "Your half sister, Meriel. Clarissa." Martin shakes his head and gestures at the door where Mirelle left. "I don't want to keep you," he says. "I've got plenty of questions, obviously, but I take it you'll answer them soon enough..." Meriel, though, it seems, is struggling to speak. "Sister?" she finally manages. "I have a *sister*?" "Yes" Random replies. The look of displeasure is widely readable on his countenance, and only with effort returns to a poker-face. "Clarissa showed up in Amber not long ago. The proverbial square peg in the round hole, she walked the Pattern and asked it to take it to her mother, whoever that might be." "It took her to where Mirelle was imprisoned. She managed a jailbreak, and Mir used a trump of Clarissa's to get back here, just before they were recaptured. Unfortunately, Clarissa soon pissed away her goodwill by cheesing off nearly every family member she came across with her vocally stated opinion that we were a family of lunatics." "Her own lunacy came to light." Random's tone drips with sarcasm like a sea snake's bite drips with venom. "when she decided, with zero arcane training, to monkey with a magical portal that our new favorite enemy dropped in Arden. Her clumsy efforts resulted in numerous casualties, primarily to Julian's troops. Several family members not even related to the Julii wouldn't mind her head for that." "After that, she walked out of Arden and hasn't been seen since." Random finishes. "I like *you* as a full niece better already." he confides. Martin sighs. "Wish I could forget. I went looking for her, and she gave me the slip. It's how I ended up trapped in a pocket shadow," he explains. Random gives Martin a nod. "A trouble magnet, she is." he mutters. Meriel's eyes are wide as she listens to all this. "I think you must be jolly glad that she disappeared!" she says at last. "Yes, and no." Random says. "For all that she was difficult, she is family. Family is important. It complicates what would be the simplest of matters sometimes." "Though now that Martin already has had a nasty event in trying to track her, I'm content to let Clarissa be for a few years...decades...centuries." Random says. "If she thinks we're lunatics and wanders into situations where my son gets sucked into shadow traps trying to follow her, then she's better off doing her own thing for the moment." "Mind you don't express that particular opinion to your mother." Random says to Meriel. "Erm ... no," says Meriel, looking a little surprised - possibly at the idea that she could be having a conversation with her mother. "She'd have a hard time doing that again," Martin says. "I'd be ready for it. D'you have something else in mind for me?" He shoots a glance at Meriel. "Or maybe us?" Meriel returns the glance, and then looks at Random, a little warily. "I just might." Random says with a grin to his son. He then glances at Meriel thoughtfully and softens his grin. "However, especially for the sake of Meriel here, it should wait until tomorrow, after Court. We've had enough for one night, I should think. All of us." "Right. Henden." Random walks over to a bureau, opens it, retrieves a piece of tan parchment, and scratches a few lines of words on it with a nearby pen. He stamps the paper with a large stamp, with a meaty thwack, rolls it up with a bit of string, and offers it to Meriel. "So that when Martin brings you to Henden next, he doesn't make you take an hour in filling out forms before you get a simple room." "Thank you," said Meriel. "But really, I daresay I could manage with a decent sized fountain if you have one. There's need to go to the trouble of arranging a room." Random gives Meriel a puzzled expression. She shoots an appealing glance at Martin. Martin grins. "Yah, I'm sure there's lots of people who wouldn't mind you frolicking around in one of the fountains, but you don't want to cause talk right before the Big Show at Court. How about one of the baths, and maybe we could retro-fit it into a room? There's suites for visiting Rebmans, too, if you want to take one over. There's a little more, er, privacy here. Yup. That's the word." "I know the not-quite-ambassador Priya has the former Charge D'affaires rooms." Random says. "I know there are a couple of other suites in the vicinity." "The full family rooms do have more modern plumbing." Random says. "I do allow the Family to tailor their suites to suit. Your suggestion, son." he looks at Martin "may be the simplest solution." "In the meantime..." Random looks at Meriel speculatively before looking at Martin "Tell Henden to put her in the Dolomite Rooms for the night, Martin. It has a nice, large circular limestone tub. That'll do for the night. And to make sure to get a servant to fill it for her." Meriel rewards Random with a dazzling smile. "Thank you so much, your Majesty! That will do *perfectly*!" She drops another curtsey - it seems to be intended as a thank you. Then she looks expectantly at Martin. He grins in response. "Right. This way, Meriel. Dad..." Half-wave, half-smile, "Um... yeah. See you tomorrow." "Good night, son." Random says. He gives Martin a nod, and then a nod to Meriel. "Until tomorrow, Meriel." Without incident, Martin and Meriel can exit the Royal Quarters, and into the hallway outside the Royal Apartments. "I see, Meriel..." Noys announces as she steps into view "that his Majesty took to you at least passably. You're not in irons." she adds with a smile. "No," says Meriel thoughtfully. "And it doesn't seem as though I face a captivity so bad ... although, of course, I'd prefer to test the air before coming to a definite conclusion on *that*." She shoots a speculative glance at Martin, and then asks Noys, "Where you in there all the time? You ... vanished." Martin raises his eyebrows at Meriel in return, then watches Noys. The dark haired daughter of Eric spreads her hands, blushing slightly at the attention from Meriel and Martin both. Her eyes flicker between the two and finally settle on Meriel. "Noooo." she says. She smiles slightly "I...slipped out and have been waiting for the two of you out here. It would been rude, as well as stupid for me to have remained there unseen and acknowledging of his Majesty." "Just a small trick, I assure you." she adds with a smile to Martin. "With times as dangerous as they have been lately, practicing such talents is becoming more important." "We're off to Henden's office, right?" "Yes," says Meriel, "and you might as well know, as it's going to be made all official at court tomorrow, that I'm the daughter of Random's sister. And that means I have a sister too, I understand, who caused quite a few problems." She looks a little questioningly at Noys to see her response to this news. Noys looks at Meriel, stunned and surprised. She then reaches forward and impulsively hugs her. "You're *family*. Why didn't I see it before?" she says, apparently to herself. She then looks at Martin speculatively and then back at Meriel. "I did meet Clarissa; she came here a few days ago. To say that she 'caused problems' would be a charitable way to describe Clarissa." Noys says thoughtfully. She then regards Meriel and Martin again. Enlightenment crosses her face. "But I'm...intruding, aren't I?" she says, shaking her head with a smile. "This must be a lot for you to digest, Meriel." Her head nods toward Martin. "Martin will certainly be able to see you to Henden's office without trouble." "We'll have breakfast before Court tomorrow." Noys says. "Promise. Sleep well...cousin." Noys smiles. "Both of you." Noys steps back into a shadowed portion of the hall...and softly and silently is no longer seen, or heard. "That's a neat trick," Martin says. "Wish I could... oh, wait, I can." "Can you?" asks Meriel, clearly interested. "Without making waves? I'd like to see that .... this air thing is easier, I'd think." She is still a moment, eyes half-closed as though testing something, and then shakes her head. "Air!" she says, managing to get a surprising amount of exasperation into what is essentially an open vowel sound. Then she shrugs, a gesture redolent of tiny grains of sand being washed from her body, and looks at Martin. "Let's sort out this room thing," she suggests. "Because, after that, there's something I want to do." Martin raises an eyebrow. "Okay... let's get you settled, then," and takes them on a beeline to Henden. Meriel and Martin indeed have make their way through the Castle and the corridors, through the labyrinth as it were, to their destination, without incident or encounter. In the process, they have not passed by any (to Meriel new) family members, only a few servants that Martin recognizes, on errands ranging from Lise wheeling a cart of food toward a destination, to young Poul carefully carrying two buckets full of hot water toward another. The light in Henden's office as they approach is dim, but it is not yet out. The sound of scribbling, too, is a prelude to their arrival. Looking slightly tired behind a desk full of paperwork, in an office full of the stuff, is the Chamberlain of Amber. He looks at Martin and nods, and then looks at Meriel, perplexed. "I don't have a file on *you*" he says by way of greeting to Meriel. He then looks at Martin questioningly. "You're slipping," Martin says. Henden raises a skeptical eyebrow at Martin as Martin performs the introduction. "Sir Henden, meet Meriel, daughter of Mirelle and new addition to the band. Meriel, this is Henden, Chamberlain of Castle Amber, with all that implies." After a moment of silence, he nudges Meriel with an elbow. "Psst. Give him the thingy." "Oh," says Meriel, who has been looking around the room, apparently fascinated by all that she sees. "The thingy. Yes. Of course." She delves in the the bosom of the stupendous mirrored gown where she had apparently stowed it for safe keeping, and brings it out. rather warm and a little crushed. Then she holds it out to Henden. apparently seeing nothing amiss with this method of transportation for documents. Henden takes the document cautiously, holding it in his hand as he undoes the string,unrolls it and reads. A slight air of exasperation crosses his face, which is quickly replaced by a more neutral, formal one. "Right. It seems, milord." he looks at Martin "I've gone from Chamberlain to the manager of Hotel Castle Amber. Formal quarters on the second, perhaps third floor will wait until after Court. For the night, you need a place to rest your head." He regards Meriel speculatively "Princess. Welcome to Castle Amber." Henden turns around, pulls out a document, and with a pen starts writing small notes here and there in a Spencerian script. He opens a drawer and produces a key, with a smoky yellow stone set in it. "Yes. Now..." He looks at Martin, offering him the key. "Since Poul has apparently decided to take his time in seeing to Princess *Deirdre's* new daughter, would you mind escorting Princess Mirelle's new daughter to her rooms. I've put her in the Imperial Topaz room, over by where the Rebman emissary, and Princess Aura are quartered." "I believe." Henden says in a deadpan tone "that you are quite familiar with the suite in question." Meriel glances at Martin and then says, firmly. "His Majesty said I was to have Dolomite Rooms. On account of the bath." Henden opens his mouth to speak, but Meriel is faster on the draw. She considers this, and then adds, in the tones of one wishing to be fair-minded, "Although I am sure the Imperial Topaz room is very nice. And then I could tell my erstwhile sea-sharers what I think of their wholly *despicable* behaviour over the last ... well, all of my life, really. In fact, if I *am* close to their rooms, it will make it *much easier for me to challenge them to a duel of honour, won't it?" Henden's eyes starts looking down at paperwork, as if there *is* a form for the authorization of duels of honour. Martin shoots Henden a definite 'nix this idea' look. "Um, yah. Not a good idea to be having duels in or around the castle. Triton would tell you. Um, Henden, let's just say we're trying to avoid any... imperial... entanglements. Another reason we thought of the Dolomite bath. Really, Meriel won't mind. Think we could work that out?" "Duels. Imperial entanglements. Hmm." Henden says after a moment. He extends his hand back for the key he handed to Martin. He exchanges it for a similar key with a light blue stone set in it. He offers this to Martin as he starts rubbing a piece of paper with a wax eraser and rewriting things as he speaks. "Senator Longinus of Antioch when he comes to Amber usually expects to use the Dolomite Room, puts a deposit against it in fact, signs all of the necessary forms without complaint." "However." he looks up and at Meriel. "You *are* being presented, tomorrow, are you not? And you are going to need an official suite. So I can trust that you will leave the Dolomite rooms in good condition and in good order?" The corner of Martin's mouth tugs upward.Meriel regards him limpidly. "But of course!" she says, much shocked. "And Martin will be there to make sure I behave." This merits a slightly skeptical eyebrow from Henden as his eyes flicker between Meriel and Martin. "I might be more convinced of the efficacy of your chaperone if it was someone more noted for sober propriety." He looks at Martin "No offense, milord, but I have read the reports, both redacted and unredacted, of your missions with Prince Pollux. In any event, I believe our business here is concluded, and I look forward to seeing you tomorrow at Court. Good morrow to you both." Martin smiles. "Greatly exaggerated, I'm sure... there simply aren't that many pogo sticks and bottles of baby oil in Amber." "Unless there was something else?" Henden adds after a moment to digest Martin's answer. His pen starts working across the page again. "No, no, it all looks wonderful!" Meriel assures him. "And I can't wait to see it - even just for a single night!" She gives Henden a radiant smile ... only someone who knows her as well as Martin would know that Meriel at her most innocent is Meriel plotting mischief. "Right," Martin says, and politely takes Meriel's arm. "A pleasure, Henden, as always. See you tomorrow." Henden gives Martin and Meriel a nod. "Good night, milord Prince. Milady." Once they are out of the office, Martin's hand shifts to the small of Meriel's back. "He wasn't kidding," he says. "Rebma just recently claimed total independence from Amber. Things are really dicey here. The smallest incident could blow up in our faces." Meriel shrugs. "I'm not planning to do anything to the Rebmans," she says. "Well, not at the moment. Revenge is a fish best pursued in cold waters. No .. I need your help for something *quite* different. "Let's find this room." Martin blinks. "Something quite different? Er, turn here." Meriel turns, and then shoots a wicked look over her shoulder at Martin. "I'll 'splain when we get there," she promises. (I'm taking Meriel's comment as a desire to move forward)Martin's sense of direction even in the middle of the night is sure footed, and without incident or trouble, Martin leads Meriel to the so called Dolomite rooms. The suite is fairly typical in size compared to other suites in this wing, with a large central room, a bedroom, and a bathroom. And as this is an interior set of rooms, there are no windows. Fixtures, accents and highlights of the room are all in the eponymous material. Lighting is done by the means of softly glowing arcane globes of glass. And as promised, the bathroom has an exceptionally large tub. There isn't any running water, though, except for a small tap on a sink. "That's nice," says Meriel, looking at all the stone appreciatively. Then she looks at the bath and frowns. "Where's the water?" Martin points. "Bell pull," he says. "Servants bring the water, however you want it. 'Course, if we didn't care about the next guy, I could break the wet wall and run some pipes up to the ceiling..." The next few minutes are filled with talk of copper tubing and water pressure and water heaters powered by friction and turbines. "I'd prefer steam, you know," he says, "but large-scale steam projects get a little wonky in Amber. Four hours, I'd say, unless you wanted a stand-up all around shower. That's another hour. It would be beautiful! And perfect!" Meriel is staring at him in increasing bemusement. "But what you're doing ... Martin ... that would kill the water!" she says at last. "Well... yah, if I used steam," Martin replies. "Not the other idea. But you do know they'll boil the water for this tub, right? And use fresh water, besides." He sighs. "No point freaking out the castle staff, I guess." Meriel stares at Martin, then looks at the tub and gives a shudder. "I'll tell them I want it cold," she says firmly. "Well, unheated, anyway. There's no sense in putting ice into it. I'm not looking for a night of passion, after all. In fact, quite the ... "Martin? Will you help me?" Even as she is speaking, she lifts her arms ... and the little mirrors on the amazing dress seem to quiver. Martin blinks as gears seem to shift in his head. "Yeah, sure," he says, and moves forward. He blinks again after getting a good look at the dress Meriel is wearing. "Um, how..." And now it becomes apparent that the crazy mirror pieces on the dress are starting to melt and flow down from her dress to the floor. They shimmer like quicksilver in the darkness and, like quicksilver, as soon as they touch they ground, they run, quivering, together, to coalesce into the shape of a rounded mirror - rather like the one that Meriel smashed in the first place, in Noyes' room. "There," says Meriel, with satisfaction. "Now I can use it properly." Martin's smile falters a little, then picks back up. "Wow," he says. "But wouldn't a compact be easier to carry around? Anyways..." he stares down. "Doing some sort of scrying?" "Yes," says Meriel, dropping to her hands and knees, the better to gaze deep into the glass. "I want to know what that woman ... I mean my mother ... is doing." "Ahh, I see." Martin sits down cross-legged opposite from Meriel, then drops his gaze quickly to the looking glass when he realizes he's staring down her dress in this position. "How, um, do you want me to help?" "Make sure no-one comes," says Meriel. "And if they do, send them away or something. She looks up suddenly at him, her eyes brilliant emerald. "But you can look too. I'm ... I'm almost scared to look alone." "Yah." Martin frowns at the mirror. "You know, whenever I do something like this, there's always the chance they know someone is watching. Would that happen here?" Merivel frowned. "What I did earlier should have disinclined anyone from looking into this mirror for a long, long time," she said. "And there are ways to mask what you're doing. At the very worst, I suspect they'll see me and you staring intently into a mirror, and will guess I'm scrying. But there's no way they'll be able to follow that to see the object of what I'm scrying, because the line of connection is aetherial." "So there we are," Martin says. He taps on his PDA a few times and places it so that the top is pointed at the door. "We should have a warning if someone gets close. I'll handle anyone who knocks. Fire away." Meriel nods. She bends low over the mirror. For a long moment, she gazes into the mirror, humming a plaintive little tunes under her breath. It sounds almost like a siren's lullaby ... If Martin glances at her, he might see the pupils of her eyes slowly dilating. Then she gives a little shiver, and becomes uncharacteristically still. To image Mirelle requires mainly finding a mirror in her vicinity. It can be a matter of trial and error for the neophyte. For more advanced scions of the Mirror, its a matter of feeling for the right mirror, and getting it in far less tries. Such it is for Meriel. Her first choice is the correct one, as an image forms of a room, a bedroom. Sitting on the bed is Mirelle, and standing in the room are Random, looking agitated, and a Rebman. Vialle. Martin can't make out the words, but he can see Random and Mirelle are speaking. And both Martin and Meriel notice that Vialle's face has turned from the conversation, and sightlessly looks at the mirror that Meriel is peering out of. "Meriel?" Martin asks, unnecessarily. Knowing a trance state when he sees one, he holds back from poking and prodding immediately; instead, he looks into the mirror to see if he's included in the spell. "Mmmm?" says Meriel absently. "I think we've missed the interesting bits. They seem to want to talk about you and me now ... " She sighs. "They'll probably disapprove as much as Moire did. Martin, why do people think we're bad for each other?" Martin is clearly not included in the spell, but he recognizes the setup that, if he wanted and Meriel were willing, she could include him via a psychic link. Without that, Martin can see that Random and Mirelle are still clearly talking. One thing, though, evident to the both of them is the expression on Vialle's face as she faces the mirror that Meriel peeks out of. It's a bemused smile. "I'm the Heir Presumptive," Martin says. "Well, I would be if Dad would say something official that way, but he prefers that I keep breathing and have a heartbeat. And you already know how complicated things are on the Rebman side. They think everyone's bad for me, for one thing. And being Mirelle's daughter, that makes us very close cousins, and that wouldn't be good, either." He tilts his head, looking into the mirror. "I think Vialle's made us." "Maybe," says Meriel. "But she's not blocking this ... she seems to be keeping the floodgates raised ... Oh - that's interesting. Did you know we have a fire elemental cousin? I wonder if she's quenchable." "Umm... huh?" Martin looks up. "Not heard of her... but considering all the cousins, I wouldn't be surprised..." In the mirror, in the meantime, Martin and Meriel can see that the conversation seems to be continuing. Vialle continues to sightlessly watch the mirror, and both Martin and Meriel feel the pricklings of not a trump contact, but a psychic-like offer of contact, coming through the mirror, and presumably from Vialle. "They're planning on getting rid of us," says Meriel cheerfully. "But that's all right. They just mean to send us well away from here. Oh, Martin! I didn't know you had a sister! What's she like?" "A lot like me," Martin says, and smiles slightly. There is more than surprise in her voice, for there is a slightly wistful undertone. Martin, it is possible, is the closest thing she has ever had to a brother - or any other relative. "How do you get on with your stepmother?" she adds. "I think she wants to talk to us." "That's... complicated, Meriel," Martin says and sits back. "We've generally avoided one another. She knows me and who I am a lot better than I know her. I'm Morganthe's son." The offered psychic contact from Vialle gently continues to press as Meriel and Martin watch the conversation in Mirelle's rooms. As the parents of Martin and Meriel talk, Vialle smiles slightly as she faces the mirror. And then, like the end of a current, the psychic contact's strength and urgency slowly start to diminish and slacken. "Does she know we're both here?" Martin asks immediately. "Had you told her?" "No," says Meriel, cocking her head on one side thoughtfully. "She's aware of us, though I'm not sure if she knows we're us. Or if she just knows there's a Watcher here. Mmmm - she seems pretty calm about that. Oh, she's talking to your father and ... and her. My ....erm. They're talking about children - Vialle doesn't think she'll have any ... My mother thought it would be a good idea. I must say, after this evening, I'd expect her to be the last one suggesting fecundity, even if it's for other people. "Do you want to be heir, by the way, or is it not the sort of thing you're bothered about?" Martin blinks a couple of times in suprise. "I don't feel like painting a big target on my chest just yet," he says. "Besides, Dad's gonna live forever, you know? Yeah, I'm bothered about it, but it's not the kind of thing that sits on top of the list. Maybe someday, after I've made a dry run through a few shadow kingdoms. Neither one of us are losing sleep over it, yet." He nods towards the mirror, realizes Meriel may still be in a kind of trance, and says, "I think Vialle might have a pretty good idea who we are. Just tell her we'll meet later. That might keep her quiet until we've had a chance to talk." In the mirror, Vialle cocks her head, and then with one last smile, she turns away, and the attempted psychic contact ends. Also in the mirror, as Meriel and Martin talk, Random gives Mirelle an embrace and the general semblance in the soundless images is that Random and Vialle are about to leave the room. [Random: "Martin is a good kid. Hell, It might even be said that I don't deserve him as a son." Vialle: "Not true, Randy." Mirelle: "Enough of this for now, I think. Brother. Tomorrow promises to be an interesting day, and I need time to rest." Random (embracing Mirelle): "Sleep well, sister." Vialle: "Conversations can wait until tomorrow" (while facing the mirror, even though she might be addressing Random)] "Hmmmm," says Meriel. "She'll meet us tomorrow. That ... suggests to me she was able to pick you up - I didn't have to pass the message on." She waves a hand over the mirror; it looks airy, but Martin may recognise it as a gesture of some power. The mirror seems to dim and then become smoky. "Which means my defences aren't as good as I thought they were." She frowns, then rises to her feet. "I wonder if she'll tell your father. She didn't draw attention to the fact we were there - but then, she might not have wanted his sis ... my mother to know. I suppose we'd better talk to her. After all, she didn't have that great a time in Rebma either, from all accounts." She looks at Martin. "Now - let's get this tub filled with cold water so I can get some sleep!" "Yeah," Martin says, and pulls the bell pull. "Maybe she'll say something, maybe not... I think she'll wait until we talk. You'll have that long to think up a good excuse for scrying." He winks. The rap-a-tap-tap that Martin would recognize as the knocking of a servant on the doors to the chamber comes almost preternaturally quickly. Or, perhaps, other people are making use of the servants tonight as well. The young man who comes in is short, and sandy haired. Martin recognizes him as the servant that Henden lamented was not available when he and Meriel were at his office. Poul is his name. "Milord Prince." Poul says with a furrowed eyebrow and a puzzled expression. And then he regards Meriel. "Milady...?" "Have the bath filled, please," says Meriel, "so I can get some sleep." Poul offers a bow of acquiescence. "Martin, do you want to share? Or do you have one in your own rooms?" "I'll take a rain check," Martin says. "Er... in other words, I'll take you up on that later." He grins. "Haven't slept in cold salt water in a long time. A very long time. But there's some stuff I want to take care of before I go to sleep, and that includes checking on some projects I left last time I was here." "C...cold salt water?" Poul looks at Meriel quizzically. "Do I take it to mean, milady, that you do not wish your bath hot...and you wish...salts in your bathwater?" "The salts aren't essential," says Meriel hastily, "as long as the water is freshly drawn." "The water will be freshly drawn, and cold, milady." Poul says reassuringly. "If that will be all..." he looks about uncomfortably and departs the room. She turns to Martin. "I'll say goodnight then," she says. "And thank you for .... oh well. Everything." Then she remembers and adds, "Well, apart from nearly letting me get captured by your ... you-know-who. But for everything apart from that." Martin's lips press together in a half-smile, and he glances away. "Yeah, that. Thanks for reminding me. You're welcome... and, um. Sorry, again. I'll see you tomorrow." Backlinks |
