PlanningtheCampaignWilliam Planning the CampaignOnce he leaves the Royal chambers William seeks out his companions, to warn them to be prepared to leave as soon as possible - most likely within the next two days. Finish up any affairs, conduct any pending duels, and buy anything they simply cannot do without. Kiathas, Devaine and Valric take a little while to locate. In the end, following the advice from a certain shadow and listening for the sounds of a fight, down in the city, proves to be most efficacious. Its a relatively mild brawl, by any standard. However, having a Prince of Amber show up at its end does sooth the owner of the tavern (the Three Roses). He doesn't even refuse a little money for the damages caused. Devaine later explains, on the way back to the Castle, that it was a matter of honor, her honor. Kiathas insisted on defending it, even though all three of them perfectly knew that she is more than capable of it herself. Apparently an early-in-the-day patron of the Three Roses mistook Devaine for a woman of negotiable virtue. Kiathas, with an unexpectedly potent potable in him spurring him on unexpectedly, challenged the man, and started a melee. William nods at the explanation. "Nobly done," he tells them, with a clap on the back for Kiathas. "I count on you three to be of great aid to me in the coming mission." And he fills them in on the diplomatic mission, including that there is a sub-rosa personal agenda involving finding the man who dared to attack his mother. The look in their eyes suggests that they understand what is at stake with the latter, even as they uphold the former. The start of the voyage will most likely be by ship, but there will be overland travel at some point, so he sends Kiathas and Valric to see that the horses will be ready to travel in one day's time, to obtain supplies, and to talk with the Chamberlain's aids (he doubts they will need to talk to the Chamberlain himself about this) about having servants and support staff assigned to the mission. "We're a diplomatic mission," he tells them, "And we'll do this up right!" "Of course, Guillaume." Kiathas says, drawing Valric away on the tasks to which they have been assigned. After they leave he tells Devaine, "We shall be joined on this mission by Princess Shannon, the daughter of my aunt Fiona. She's a brilliant scholar, and I think the two of you will get along well. Will you accompany me to meet with her later, and plan our itinerary?" "To see the Librarian?" Devaine says. "Of course." Shannon sends a message back, which William receives not long after his retrieval of his trio of friends, that she would be happy to meet him for such matters and names a late afternoon time at the library for the purpose. Then he'll make inquiries to discover which cousins are currently in residence, to decide if he wants to invite anyone along. William's networking results in a bevy of information. The Castle is, it seems in the wake of last night's festivities, relatively deserted. In the Castle at present are: Himself Triton (in the infirmary of course) For just a moment William is tempted to steal Triton's unconscious body and take it with him. But he overcomes the temptation. Shannon Coming with him already, of course. Minh Too much an unknown. Valerian (his status as a relative of some sort is being accepted by the staff, perhaps because the list of cousins has increased so much recently) William mentally wishes him luck in his own difficult task. Larissa Hmm. Interesting possibilities. But, ultimately, William rejects the idea. Too many potential conflicts of interest, and too many political entanglements. Helias Ohh, tempting, tempting, tempting. But perhaps too much of a distraction. William briefly entertains a delightful mental fantasy involving the calm, cool Shannon and the fiery Helias.... William gets conflicting results about Percy and Brandeigh, the former has been seen, but only in passing. Probably in Arden (although no one has gone to check) are: Carl Brieanne Definitely not in the Castle are: Toireasa Destiny Krysta Hadrian Castor Pollux Lorius Alais Jayson Martin Cyllene Asteria Kyle Angelique Rylan Noys The mysterious Hideo who showed up briefly is not around. Clarissa Clark has not returned, either. Tina is believed to be in Rebma with her mother, although with recent events, what is happening down there is unclear. Fine, he's not going to spend any time tracking anyone down. Better to leave quickly, before any Rebman hit women start to show up. And finally he'll arrange for several well-known musicians of Amber to give a private performance in an upper chamber of the castle that night, one with a breathtaking view of the ocean, and speak with the chefs about a private dinner for two that evening. There are musicians in residence, and in Amber city itself. Given that they are thronging the city due to their recent use in the ball last night, William can pick and choose from talent local and not so local. Justina de Blanc, a cello player from Begma, happily accepts the commission for herself and her quartet to play. William recalls that her group has played at a couple of functions that his sister has commissioned in the past. William's charm works on Michael, the head of the kitchens. Fortunately for William, an old owed favor makes Michael amenable to William's special request and he readily agrees to arrange matters. And he sends a page to the healer Samara, with a single red rose and a note sealed with the emblem of a phoenix. "Dearest lady healer, On my travels through realms of magic and dream, to recover the lost soul of my cousin, one thought gave me the courage and strength to carry on, in the face of all obstacles. The memory that you had agreed to have dinner with me once I returned. Dare I hope that you, too, have recalled this promise? I am soon to be sent forth on a mission, and know not when I shall return. I pray that I shall have further memories to carry with my on these travels, memories to carry me through whatever travails may come. Tell me, I implore, that you will meet with me this eve, to honour your promise, and to allow me to thank you properly for the care you gave me while I was stricken. Your devoted servant, William " The answer to William's plea does not come until his footsteps are carrying him to the threshold of the library to meet with Shannon. One of the pages catches up to William just before he enters, and with a bow, offers him a note on lavender scented paper. The seal in the wax is a caduceus and a rampant unicorn. "William, I have not forgotten my promise to you. I assure you that it was not made in haste, and I am honored that my promise fortified you in such a manner. For the hearing of your story alone I would come, for your plea and to fortify you against your future trials, the remedy shall be set. I shall be most glad to meet you this eve. Only name where and when, and I shall be there." Samara "Is there a return message, milord?" the page asks. William winks at Devaine. "A matter of state," he informs her, putting a solemn tone in his voice that doesn't match the wink at all. Devaine smiles. "Of course it is." she says confidently, with no sense of visible irony. "There is, indeed," he tells the page. "Inform the good healer that I shall call upon her in her chambers at an hour after sunset to discuss the remedy she advises. She will not need to travel far to call upon the patient, so she may dress for her comfort and pleasure." The young man listens patiently and attentively. Devaine smiles slightly but says nothing. He hands the young man a silver coin. "And toast the return to health of Prince Triton in my name, if you would be so kind." The young man takes the coin and folds his hand over it. "Thank you, milord." the page says. He then proceeds to recite William's message, verbatim, without a mistake. At its end, he bows. "I shall perform the toast this evening, milord, after my duties are complete." the page assures William, before moving away. William smiles and nods a dismissal to him. "I should hope the matter of state will not cause you to awaken late tomorrow." Devaine says. "Shall we go find our good Librarian?" "Indeed, let us do so," William offers her his arm as they enter the library. "Besides being a truly remarkable person in her own right, I think you will find her to be an excellent source of information in your work on understanding how to adjust your magical abilities from shadow to shadow. It is yet another reason that I am glad she will be travelling with us." He looks around the library as they enter it, smiling unconsciously at the presence of so many books. Few other than Devaine realize how much the son of William enjoys the written word, in all its forms. Devaine steps lively as she follows William into the two story room which dominates the second and third floor of the Castle. A number of librarians, clerks, and functionaries are busy doing the business of a Kingdom. When William and Devaine (the latter trying very hard not to drop her speed to a crawl and gawk) do find Shannon, she is toward the rear of the Library, not far away from the infamous locked case with the trump decks. The table she is in front of is composed of a fortress of books of various sizes, shapes and bindings. A few are arranged in piles a foot or so high, others are open with tasseled bookmarks. A couple of them are open, atlases. One of them, as William approaches and can see, is open to a map of Begma, another is open to a map of Antioch. Fiona's daughter, in the center of this fortress, is reading an entirely different books, and looks up as William arrives in view. "Well, hello." she says. "I figured that I had time before you arrived, so I was continuing a separate project of mine." She places one of the tasseled bookmarks, closes the volume and sets it aside. "Princess Shannon," William says formally, "May I present the Lady Devaine. She is a war-sorceress from a shadow I am very fond of, and is a trusted friend and comrade. Shannon changes her body language at William's formality, and extends a hand toward Devaine, rising from her chair. Devaine, the Princess Shannon, daughter of Fiona." Devaine takes the hand at William's other half of the introduction and grasps it briefly and gives a nod of the head matched by Shannon's smile of welcome. He lets the formality drop from his voice as he adds, "I hope the two of you will be great friends." "If we are going to all travel across the Golden Circle." Devaine says. "I should certainly hope that we will get along." "And really, William." Shannon smiles. "Are you conflating me with, say, my brother? My sister, now...it would be absolutely *dangerous* to travel with your boon companion here." Devaine raises an eyebrow at this comment from Shannon."I see at the very least, we will both have much to talk about together while on this journey, Guillaume." Devaine says, turning to William. "Two women with a love of knowledge, and a love of talking," William observes, holding a seat for Devaine, and then taking one himself. "We men will be able to observe a manly silence, and yet there will never be any void in the conversation." Devaine smiles. Shannon cocks her head but at William's voice, stops and looks attentive. "So, then," he turns more serious. "Have you spoken with your mother since this morning?" "Not yet." Shannon says, rearranging some of the books around her so that she is not quite so walled off. In the meantime, Devaine has sat down and started looking at one of the open atlases. "Mother did send a note asking me to speak to her over dinner on matters. I suppose." she regards William levelly. "you are either going to give me a preview of what she is going to say, or you have a message that you want conveyed to her?" "On our way back to the king from meeting with you this morning," William answers, "We heard my mother cry out. Someone attempted to abduct her, from her own apartments. We captured the creature, and your mother allowed me to assist in its questioning. Its mind held the image of its master, Count Leonidas Taisson of Eregnor." Shannon's expression goes from merry to thoughtful, and serious. Devaine looks up now and again from the maps at William's story. William smiles. "So I'll be wanting to have some words with him during our diplomatic mission. Meanwhile, your mother instructed me to take you along with me, to serve her own interests in these matters. A pleasant confluence of desires." "The fact that someone tried to abduct one of us from the Castle would be of extreme interest to my mother." Shannon says. "Especially as, if I read you correctly, this was something more than a simple break-in and physical abduction." "I've read about this Count in a broadsheet from Begma." Shannon says. "It was a few months ago...one of those movers and shakers looking to increase his political power. Hadn't heard that he was a sorcerer, much less a Summoner, though." Shannon looks thoughtful for a moment. In the meantime, Devaine looks up with an amused smile. "Perhaps he has an appreciation for blond haired women. In which case, he'll be drawn to you, too, when we encounter him." Shannon shakes her head and looks to William. "In any event, I will be attentive as to my mother's instructions on the matter. Of course its entirely possible her instructions have to do with some other destination in our trip." "Oh, I should be very surprised, and disappointed, if she wants only a single issue dealt with. Her ability to think and act on so very many levels at once in one of her great attractions, after all." Shannon grins. "And here it was I who you were flirting with, and not my mother." she says in a tone of mock exasperation. Her slight shake of the head shows her amusement. William smiles. "Now, should we start thinking about our itinerary, or do you think that would be best left until after you have had a chance to speak with her?" "We can make plans and alter to suit if my mother has suggestions for the course." Shannon says. "It is better to have a plan and repair and improve it, rather than improvising without one." Shannon says firmly. "And its entirely possible that if we beg off handling an itinerary now, we won't have one when we ride out from the Castle." "Besides, even Mother is not so perverse as to have us ride out first deep into shadow, only returning to closer shadows after desired business is done. We can begin with the nearby shadows now, if you are of a mind." "Well, and well," William replies with a decisive nod. "So, then. The ostensible reason for this mission is to see what effects the Shockwave has had on our dear friends and neighbors. There's an unspoken subtext that I am being punished by being exiled from Amber and sent on this mission, which will hopefully assuage any lingering anger held by the Queen of Rebma and her court. But once the members of the Golden Circle hear that the nephew and niece of the King are travelling the realms on his behalf, they will begin their political auguries. Such matters as where we go first, what order we visit the realms, how long we spend in each one, all of these will be poured over endlessly and sifted for every possible nuance of meaning. Do we visit Begma or Kashfa first? Do we go from one to the other through Eregnor, and do we stop in that disputed realm? Do we visit Corilaine at all? Each choice will be debated in the public halls and secret back chambers of each palace, castle and temple of every one of the realms. Our every move will be scrutinized, and meanings drawn from it that we cannot begin to imagine." He grins. "I love this stuff," he confesses. "You haven't even scratched the surface of course." Shannon says. "Not that I would expect to be able to outdo a political master." Devaine raises an eyebrow at Shannon's appelation for William, but Shannon smoothly picks one of the books, opens it to a bookmark and pushes it toward William and Devaine. "Its a primitive sort of diagram to try and show linkages between shadows." Shannon says, fingers running over the stylized circles labelled with the names of Shadows, with Amber in the center, and lines connecting various edges of the circles. "Begma Kashfa and Eregnor between the two here." Her finger continues to run to various circles. "Deiga sits in the middle of shadow seas. Nothing major there, unless you count it because of it as the site of Uncle Caine's murder." William chuckles. "A quick visit, with properly solemn faces, to Deiga before going to Kashfa would give people something to wonder at." "It would at that." Shannon agrees. "Could you keep solemn that long, William?" Devaine teases. "You would be surprised, my dear Devaine," William answers with a smile. Shannon's finger continues. "Over here we have Asherah and Antioch. Solid and reliable members. I'm sure if Cas or Pol were going along, they'd want to visit Antioch in any event." "Corilaine and Menuis. Even if we don't dare visit Corilaine, Menuis IS a treaty member. After all, the bread for your breakfast may have been made with flour from Menuisian grain." Shannon points out. Her finger continues to move along to another island. "Arcana. One of Mom's favorites, and Lorius' too. Just have to avoid getting turned into a newt." Shannon smiles. "It would be good practice of the Art, though, thanks to the Mana level. Not far away from Arcana we have Felis. And that's about the main suite of Golden Circle shadows we could visit." Shannon sums up. "Of course as a map, this chart is useless, but it does sum it all up, no?" "Were you thinking that we might visit non treaty members?" Shannon adds in a questioning tone. "Or shadows like, say, Gaiga, whose borders are ostensibly closed at the moment?" "Gaiga, perhaps. What's the exact political situation between it and its neighbors? I've been away for a long time." "That's a very good question." Shannon says. "I am no expert in these matters, and perhaps if we had one of the other cousins who do politics besides you around, Martin, or Pollux, say, they might know much more." Shannon continues. "What I do know is that their Queen closed the borders a year ago, and suddenly, without warning, just as sudden as the business with Corilaine's borders." "Gaiga's Ambassador is still here in the city, and they still have Ambassadors in the usual places. The treaty status is thus technically intact. They simply have decided to restrict entry and exit from the shadow itself. It's been a crimp in the usual trade routes to have to change routes to avoid stopping at the Port of Gayle." "Its a bit of a mystery." "And one we might take this opportunity to investigate," William muses. "We're suddenly seeing too many dangers moving at once, and I for one would like to know whether Gaiga is connected to one of them.""From behind the cloak of closed borders?" Shannon asks rhetorically He taps his fingers on the table for a few moments, then says, "All right. The most pressing concern is where we begin. I suspect that planning out the entire tour will be useless, we are going to encounter situations on the ground that will render plans moot. I see two main possibilities." "The most logical is to begin with the Begma, Kashfa, Eregnor triangle. That situation is a perennial blister, and it's logical for us to begin there. On the other hand, if Taisson is worried about whether we suspect him of being involved with the attack on mother, then my heading there directly might just make him that more wary, whereas taking our time and visiting somewhere else first might calm his worries, and give us a better change at catching him out." Devaine listens intently. Shannon gives an encouraging nod for William to continue. "The other possibility would be to take ship to Menuis, where we can discuss the Corilaine situation. From there we sail to Gaiga, forcing their borders if need be, to investigate matters there. Then a quick stop at Deiga, before heading to Kashfa." He settles back in his chair and smiles at Shannon. "Your thoughts?" "Either way, we might be walking into a turmoil. The question is if we walk into a known problem, this Count, or an unknown one, the situation over with Gaiga. To say nothing of skirting Sand and Delwin's realms in the process, getting the Menuis point of view. And I think you are right, William, our itinerary may be thrown out the window by events. I think I favor the latter option. Let the Count think that you are going to let him off the hook for now. Let's find out if we have problems around Gaiga which have been unattended." "Devaine?" Shannon prompts her. "Your opinion might be valuable, too." Devaine looks at the map. "This Count's fangs are drawn, and it is appealing to lance the boil while he is still recuperating from his mistaken attack. I know little of these politics and these worlds. I would prefer starting close to Amber." "Close to Amber is a metaphysical concept which doesn't exactly hold steady," William notes. "But I see your point. My concern regarding the Count, however, is that if he suspects I know he was responsible, he shall suddenly develop a degree of wisdom and run or go to ground. Then it becomes more difficult to do anything about him while retaining any degree of subtlety and deniability. So I rather fancy the roundabout approach." Devaine takes a moment and gives a nod at William's rebuttal. He smiles at a private thought. "Also, if our distant cousin Valerian is able to join us later he will not want to go anywhere near Sand, who is angered with him. So we might not be able to make this journey later. Therefore, I think we shall make it Menuis to begin with. It gives me a chance to show off the might of the Amber Navy to you and the lads, as well," he adds to Devaine. Devaine brightens at this thought. "As long as we don't get seasick." "Now, then, I wonder how nice a ship I can manage to appropriate for this jaunt? And escorts, too, we must have escort craft." "A fleet might be more difficult than a single ship, cousin." Shannon says with a smile. "I am not conversant with the methodology of requisitioning a ship, or several ships. However, if you have something from Random with his authority, you should be able to get a ship at the very least." "Certainly a frigate." Shannon says. "Perhaps even a Ship of the Line if you wanted to sacrifice speed for impressiveness. The latter would come with a sloop just because they never sail unescorted." she adds. "I'm sure Uncle Gerard would know which ones might be available." she adds. "My next stop," William agrees. "And to be honest, what we end up shall depend upon what is ready to go. So, then, we have a plan, and I have a next step to see to. Anything else we need to discuss right now?" Shannon regards William and ticks off her fingers, smiling as she does so. "We have a tentative order of diplomatic visits, we have a tentative method, and agenda items to do besides showing the flag. I think our itinerary is full." she smiles. She regards William. "One last thing we should discuss. We should establish ground rules for what we are doing. You mentioned that Valerian might join us later in our Grand Ellipse, especially if we are nowhere near Sand's domain. There are Aunts, Uncles and cousins, even if they aren't joining us, that might wonder at what we are up to, however. How open or closed do you think our preparations should be to the rest of the family, besides those already conversant with our Plan?" "You mean how much of a secret you want to make all this." Devaine repeats with a thoughtful nod, and looks to William. "Oh, we shall be completely honest, I think," William says with a smile. "We are travelling on a diplomatic mission for dear Uncle Random, simply seeking to find out what effects the Shockwave had on our beloved neighbours in the Golden Circle, and seeing whether Amber may aid them in any way. If pressed, then you can quietly pass on the secret secondary reason, that Random wants me out of Amber, due to his anger with me over the affair with Triton, and is seeking to see to it that my exile has some benefit to Amber by assigning me this diplomatic mission." Shannon considers this for a long moment. Finally she brightens and smiles fully. "That's precisely what I was looking for, cousin." she says to William. "You know how things run around here. Even if you tell the straight story and the truth. everyone looks for a story behind the story. Everyone looks for the catch, the real reason, the hidden steel hand in the velvet glove displayed." "Now." she says. "We have an outer story and an inner story, and both have the advantage of being true. There are those who might disbelieve both, of course." Shannon muses. "However, having two stories will allay most people's suspicions that we are up to something *else* entirely." "There we are, then," William says. He stands and bows with a flourish. "I'll be off to see what I can talk Uncle Gerard out of. Devaine, would you like to come along with me, or stay here? Either to speak further with Shannon, or to explore the library, while you have the chance?" "We're going to be gone for an extended period." Devaine says, musing the offer. "On the other hand it would be useful to meet more of your family in a supervised fashion." The budding sorceress' eyes flicker as she continues the possibilities. "Oh, *I* think you should stay." Shannon interrupts, with a smile. "After all, here, you have things to learn and do." Devaine softens slightly and seems to come to a decision. "I suppose. And this way, after his meeting with Prince Gerard, he'll have time to get ready for his plans." She turns toward William and smiles mischievously. "Plans?" Shannon's eyes brighten. "That settles it, then. We wouldn't want to disturb your plans, cousin." she says to William firmly. "I'll take good care of Devaine, never fear." "Most excellent well," William answers. "With luck, a good mood on the part of Uncle Gerard, and favourable tides, we'll be leaving within one to two days. Sooner departed, the less our dear relatives can pile additional requests and tasks on to us." He gives another flourishing bow. "Ladies, by your gracious leave." "Until later, cousin." Shannon says brightly, giving a smile at the bow. "Good luck, Guillaume." Devaine adds. And then he's away to seek Gerard. Leaving the library, William is easily able to flag down a servant in order to inquire on the location of Gerard. He runs into Deyone, the middle aged looking man who helps take care of the artwork on the second floor. "I heard that the Prince Admiral was going down to the docks this morning, milord." Deyone claims. "After that nasty business I heard about on the docks yesterday, I think he wants to be closer to hand. Personally, though, milord Prince." Deyone's voice drops to a whisper. "I think the Royal Prince prefers the salt air of the harbor than the air within these walls." "That is most likely, Deyone," William answers with a laugh. "If anyone asks after me, I'm off to speak with my uncle. I shall be back before the sun sets." "Very good, milord." Deyone says. And unless stopped in the castle by someone with an interesting problem or a particularly attractive face, William is soon on horseback, thundering down Kolvir towards the docks. Nothing truly interesting stops William as he heads out of the Castle, to the stables, and down to the docks. The weather has continued to be good in the early spring day, with the weather fair and pleasant and moderated, as any seacoast city often is by the presence of a large body of water. In any event, the cobblestones of the eternal city ring with William's hoofbeats, until he reaches the wooden boardwalk expanses of the dock area, where the busyness of Amber's port comes into full flower. From the pre-dawn light until after sundown, the Docks are, as always one of the busiest parts of the city. Amber's harbor is good, perhaps preternaturally so. The docks for shallower drawing vessels meant only for trade to nearby shadows are interspersed with wharves for craft which can only handle deeper water and can go far into the seas of the Golden Circle, and beyond. Ships flying the colors of any number of nations are here. Among the Amberian ships are galleys, caravels, sloops and frigates of many styles, decorations and origins. Amber's Navy usually is moored on a few exclusive wharves, and William can make his way to these without incident. A few of the ships of the squadrons that make up the Navy's fleets are in dock, for shore leave, for repairs, for rotation. William doesn't even need to ask to find his uncle, Gerard's presence unmistakable as he stands on a relatively small warship, a sloop-of-war, or corvette perhaps, barking out commands to the crew. "Well met, Uncle!" William shouts from the wharf as he hands his horse's reins to a midshipman. The boy looks doubtfully up at the horse, which considers him with a wicked look in its dark eyes. William makes a bet with himself on whether the horse will be there when he finishes his conversation, and whether the beardless boy will have broken down in tears. Gerard turns his head at the sound, gives a nod to William and then holds up a hand, continuing to relay commands. He doesn't offer the lad any advice, though. Naval officers need to be able to handled the unexpected, and this is good training for the boy. William strides up to the gangplank of the small warship and waves. "Permission to come aboard, Admiral?" he calls out. Gerard turns from his latest relay of orders to regard his nephew once he has given the horse over to the potentially hapless midshipman. "Permission granted, William." Gerard booms. He walks to the top of the gangplank and looks down at William standing on the wharf. "Fancy finding you here, nephew." He makes a welcoming sweep of his arm. "Come up. Be welcome aboard the Narcissus." "She's lovely," William says approvingly as he joins his uncle at the top of the gangplank. His gaze sweeps the ship, taking in her sleek lines and her efficient crew. The crew mostly tries to ignore William. Having the Admiral nearby is a great spur for a disciplined crew to remain disciplined. While there is the occasional look, and even a bow from the bosun, they mostly see to their tasks. With a wide smile he turns back to his uncle. "Can I have her?" he asks. Gerard's eyes widen in slight surprise. However, this surprise is soon replaced a smile. "*You* want the Narcissus?" he says. "Is Cas or Pol rubbing off on you at last?" he asks jokingly He laughs at his own jest, and then speaks in a more plain tone of voice. "Why, William?" "Uncle Random's sending me away from Amber for a while. Punishment for being so clumsy as to allow Triton to impale himself on my sword during our duel. And, of course, as a gesture to Rebma, so Moire can see that Random takes killing her son seriously, even if I did help to raise him again." William laughs quietly. Gerard looks slightly surprised by William's recounting of events. He does not interrupt, however and continues to listen. "But, like any good king, he's turning my chastisement to another purpose as well. He wants me to conduct a diplomatic tour, unofficially, as it were, of the shadows of the Golden Circle. Check up on how they came through the Shockwave, see if there's any sign any of them have had any contact with the Omphalos, that sort of thing. I'd like to at least begin the journey by sea, and hence I'm here to find out what's available and ready to leave immediately." Gerard laughs. "It must be unofficial, for Random not to warn me that you might come seeking one of my ships for such a task." "Still, it would not do for you to spend endless amounts of time walking or riding from shadow to shadow. It would violate the spirit of Random's Law to send you away to walk, ride, or find some sort of other transport." "I don't recall you, however." Gerard continues. "spending much time in the Navy. Do you think you can really handle her, nephew?" he asks, looking at him skeptically. "As her captain, in combat or in storm?" William laughs again, louder this time. Gerard nods, once. "Nay, I know myself well enough to know my limits. But give me a captain who can take orders from a prince, and see to it that those orders are carried out in the best way possible, and I will let him command her as he sees fit. Men, I can handle, be they sailor, soldier, diplomat or priest. Just give me a man loyal to the family, who will do as I bid, and I will listen to his advice and heed his knowledge of his ship and crew. And you, uncle, I know well are an expert on both ships and the men that sail them, and can set me right in this." "Your honesty is refreshing, nephew." Gerard says after a moment's thought. "Had you claimed the ability to command and handle a ship like this, you would have been a liar." he replies. "And I would not have let you touch any one of my fleet, unless his Majesty himself came down here to tell me to do it. I will give you a ship and a captain, William." He pauses and then continues. "Besides your trio out of that Shadow you like so much, with whom else has Random saddled you on this expedition?" Gerard asks. "Just how large of an expedition is this?" "We'll be taking the usual entourage for a diplomatic mission, of course," William explains. "Diplomats to do the actual work, servants, clever spies, and so on. But the only other person of note will be Shannon. I want someone clever with whom I can compare notes on what we find." "The usual entourage." Gerard rubs his chin thoughtfully. "Just you and Shannon as Family." He looks about the Narcissus, surveying the ship as a master of the domain and element. He finally turns back to William. "She might be a little small for your expedition's needs..." "...Unless you were intentionally seeking something intimately small." Gerard raises an eyebrow, smiling. William laughs in response to this. "Nay, Uncle," he says. "That wasn't my intent. No, in truth, I was coming down here to ask for something larger, perhaps with a military escort. Narcissus would be perfect for that escort, and truth to tell I am so taken with her that I might end up spending more time on her than on the main ship. But for that, I was thinking something larger, with somewhat more comfortable accommodations. If there is any such ready to leave on short notice, of course." Gerard smacks his hands together. "Now we come to it. You didn't come for a single ship, but more than one. Truly, his Majesty is clever enough that his hair color should be checked." "Or perhaps its all your doing." He adds, still keeping his tone light. "Two ships. Two ships..." he looks past William and then back again up the quay, lost in thought. "It will take a few minutes to decide the right vessel to have you pair with Narcissus." he finally says. Come, William, let's have a drink in the cabin and we can pick out a second ship over wine." "With pleasure, Uncle," William answers. He looks to the sun, then back at Gerard with a smile. "With the proviso that I must be back to the castle ere sundown. I would not wish to keep the young lady waiting." "Another night, perhaps, we will go carousing." Gerard says amicably. "Although I understand that my son the diplomat and yourself have had some adventures in ports foreign." he says, leading William into a small but intimate Captain's cabin. He bids William to take one of the two seats and pours a glass of what looks like Bayle's best for himself and William. "I would have given you something stronger, but you don't need the courage to face the young lady you have on a hook." Gerard says, taking a sip and sitting down. "Now, away from the ears of the crew." he says, waiting for William to taste the wine before continuing. "it is fortunate that you have come along asking for a ship, seeing as how both Cas and Pol are out of Amber and contact thereof." He points out of the cabin's window, through which William can see a ship a little less sporty than the Narcissus. However, its clearly larger, and much more imposing as a force than the smaller ship William is drinking with Gerard upon. "That's the Peryton. Think she will suit you for the rest of your delegation? I've drawings of some other choices." Gerard says. "The Peryton, eh?" William says, leaning towards the window and gazing out at the ship. "A suitably beautiful and bloodthirsty name. I wouldn't second guess your suggestions, Uncle. The Peryton and the Narcissus, with their crews, it is. Could they be ready to leave on tomorrow night's tide?" Gerard takes a sip of wine. "They both could be. They were highest priority for refit, repair and leave for the crews, and so they would both be fresh for a new journey." "However, one of the reasons, besides the wine, that I asked you in here to finalize the deal." Gerard says "is that I have a request for you in exchange for letting you borrow Peryton and Narcissus." "I need you to look for something, or at least keep an eye out for me." he adds. "One of my sh...Amber's ships has gone missing in that recent Shadowstorm." Gerard continues, with a sigh. "Its discomfited the sailors that witnessed those celestial light shows in shadow, or were actually here in port at the time." "Tell me of this ship," William answers. "I shall of course be happy to keep an eye, and an ear, open for any sign or news of her." "She's the Blackhawk. One of our large, long range frigates, a little smaller than Peryton. She has cannons for those occasions for sailing into the waters of shadows that allow gunpowder." Gerard says. He takes a gulp of wine before continuing. "One of the standing orders of the Amber Navy, which Pollux may have told you about, is that after encountering shadowstorm of any sort, ships have a duty to report in on their status and condition." "Despite having a trump of me, and a ship's sorcerer onboard, she's not reported in. And as a pride of the fleet, I have a proprietary interest in determining her fate. It's possible that unicorn-damned storm just blew her out a few hundred shadows. It's also possible she got wrecked and the sailors marooned somewhere off the routes." "I've kept this quiet from most of the fleet. That storm was bad enough without lowering their morale with the idea that they might up and disappear the next time they sail out of Amber. So I have limited my investigations for the Blackhawk...until now." "I understand," William answers. "Do the captains of the Peryton and Narcissus know of this? And I assume you have no objection to my telling Shannon and my three comrades of this? They will be useful as additional ears." "Shannon I have no objection to, straightaway, given her abilities." Gerard says immediately, with a nod. "As far as your three companions, you best can judge them, and the likelihood that their words will be unduly leaked. The captains do know that the Blackhawk is missing. I do not believe anyone lower ranked on their ships have been told. However, I am not certain." "Of course." Gerard continues. "should you get an active lead on the Blackhawk that you can act upon, the crews of the two ships will know, or soon know, what is in the wind. At that point, deception is impossible. While you can keep a crew in the dark as to their destination or their mission, William, I have found that it is a poor policy." He takes a sip of wine. "Do you have any questions before I entrust two of Amber's finest ships and their crews into your care?" "Can you arrange a briefing with the captains for tomorrow morning? With you there, if at all possible. I'd like to come to meet them before we sail, and it will ease their anxiety about being under the command of a land-loving lord they do not know if they see you have confidence in me." Gerard gives a nod of the head, both in acquiescence and encouraging William to continue. "And I'd like to discuss with them how we will combine searching for intelligence upon the Blackhawk with my diplomatic mission. As well, could you get me information on the officers and crew of the Blackhawk, it's possible I might come across mention of some individual member separated from the ship, and if I know who they are that will be of benefit." William smiles at his uncle. "That will do it, I think." "I will have to dig up a copy of the records you ask." Gerard says. "Despite my reputation, William, I have not memorized the name of every officer in the fleet. I've come close on occasion." Gerard smiles. "You will have the list of crew in time for your briefing in the morning." he adds. "I will trump or send a message to you if the briefing cannot be scheduled for..." he looks at William speculatively. "Eight in the morning, on the Peryton." "I trust that will not unduly interfere with your plans for the rest of the evening?" Gerard says, with a wide grin. "Indeed, it will not," William replies with a matching grin. "For I shall not allow it to do so." He stands. "And upon that agreement, let me depart, for a fair damsel should never be kept waiting." He holds out his hand to his uncle. Gerard's grip is not bonecrushing. However, it is firm and the look Gerard gives is solemn and formal, until after he releases William's hand. "My thanks, Uncle. I shall be upon the Peryton at..." he tilts his head to one side for a moment, "... that would be eight bells in the morning watch, would it not?" Gerard gives a nod of the head. "Eight bells in the morning Watch. The end of the Morning Watch and the beginning of the Forenoon watch." he confirms. "Halfway between Prime and Terce, if you prefer to use the Church of the Unicorn's method of marking time." He holds out his hand to his uncle. Gerard's grip is not bonecrushing. However, it is firm and the look Gerard gives is solemn and formal, until after he releases William's hand. "My thanks, Uncle. I shall be upon the Peryton at..." he tilts his head to one side for a moment, "... that would be eight bells in the morning watch, would it not?" Gerard gives a nod of the head. "Eight bells in the morning Watch. The end of the Morning Watch and the beginning of the Forenoon watch." he confirms. "Halfway between Prime and Terce, if you prefer to use the Church of the Unicorn's method of marking time." "Tomorrow morn, then," William sweeps his uncle a bow, and departs the cabin, heading for the dock to reclaim his horse from the terrorized midshipman and thence back to the castle. William's trip to the Castle gets off a bit on the wrong foot. The boy is not there, although the path of the horse, and the midshipman into whose care he was entrusted, is easy enough for William to go and find the horse. The horse calmly munches an apple filched from a nearby barrel, oblivious to the efforts, pleas and exhortations of the lad as William reaches the pair. The horse, for his part, returns to respectful docility upon William's approach. "He's a spirited beast, isn't he, lad?" William says cheerfully to the nearly tearful middie as he mounts. "My thanks for looking after him, and my compliments to your captain." "Y...Ye...Yes sir." the lad stammers out. It's clear he is happy that his responsibility to the horse is at an end. He departs quickly after a sketchy bow. As William had promised, the sun has not yet set by the time he makes it through the gates and into the courtyard. The horse is nothing but docile and respectful to William, his terror of the midshipman forgotten. The business of the Castle continues, and aside from polite bows, nods and acknowledgments from Castle staff in the courtyward, nothing untoward greets William's triumphant return. William stops by the kitchens to flirt with the cooks, and make sure the preparations for the dinner he ordered are proceeding apace. Michael is a beehive of activity and can barely spend much time to talk to William. A pretty quarter-Rebman cook William knows, Beril. with just a hint of blue in her otherwise pale skin, allows William a taste of the tangy sauce that the sea bass will be cooked in. This, and all of the other courses are nearly complete and will be ready as promised. Then he has a bath drawn in his quarters, and after a good scrubbing he dresses. Simple elegance is the watchword for the evening, a red silk shirt with lace at the sleeves and a white cravat, breeches of a dark, dark blue, and half boots of black leather. He regards himself with approval in the mirror, then frowns consideringly. He steps over to a tall armoire, and returns to the mirror with a half-cape of sapphire blue, which he drapes artistically over one shoulder. He nods with satisfaction, and departs his room, to arrive outside the young healer's room just an hour after sunset. Samara, when she opens the door, is a vision in a low cut dark green dress that nearly touches the floor, trimmed with silver the same color as the grey streak in her otherwise black hair, coiffed in curls on the sides. She smiles and dips her head. "Good eve, milord Prince." "Milady Healer," He replies, sweeping her a bow. "It is a much improved eve, indeed, now." He offers her an arm. "Walk with me, beautiful lady." Samara accepts William's arm, and glides out of her quarters, the door closing behind her with a slight click. "Much improved, milord?" she asks as she begins walking with him. She begins speaking as soon as they are out of the small corridor that her door lies down, and into a larger castle corridor. "Dare I ask what cloud could darken your day so much that a small light like seeing my face could brighten it appreciably?" "On the contrary, sweet lady," he answers as they stroll. "The day has been exceedingly pleasant and productive. But all that has gone before is swept aside now." He smiles at her. "It is a fine and noble thing, to be exactly where one wishes to be, doing exactly what one wishes, and to leave all cares aside for the pleasures of the moment." Illumination and enlightement crosses her face like a ray of sunshine shines upon the Castle through the holes in an otherwise overcast day. "I begin to see, milord prince." she says as she walks along."Forgive me my assumption that the improvement of your mood necessitated a poor day prior to turning up at my door. It is merely an improvement over an already pleasant day for you." "And to be in such a position." Samara smiles "is, at least for us mortals, a rare thing. Is it so rare for the Princes of Amber?" "I do believe," William tells her, as they arrive at one of the grand staircases and begin to ascend, "That it is for a Prince of Amber, as it is for all. It is in many ways the attitude with which one regards the chances and mischances of life, that determine if one finds more sources of pleasure or causes of complaint. I, myself, am blessed with my dear Mother's ability to see and appreciate the best in what occurs." Guards salute William as he conducts her above the more public first floor, into the more Family dominated regions of the Castle. One guard perks his ears at the sound of William's mention of Florimel. Samara, for her part, however, listens intently to William's words, ignoring guards, and the art and architecture alike, in favor of rapt attention. He smiles back at her. "What of you, my dear Samara? To devote yourself to healing, truly you must have the ability to see your patients in a positive light, no matter how their pain and suffering may cause them to strike out at those around them, and seem unlovable?" Samara nods. "My mentor in the Royal Family, Prince Bleys tells me it is a matter of sympathetic magic." she agrees. "I...only have learned the very basics of what magic is, my talents and skills are more mundane. And yet Bleys has told me that a healer who does not seek to form a bond with her patients undermines her own ability." " He told me once, milord, of a great healer in far shadow, with a strange name. Home, Abode. Something like that." She shakes her head and she smiles. "The Prince told me that he was a brilliant healer, with a gift for determining the exact sickness of any person, no matter how rare or strange...and yet had a persona which was...not conducive to the mental well being of those same patients." "I would not want to be such a healer." Samara replies. "The Book of the Unicorn teaches us that Compassion is one of the eight virtues derived from the three Principles. And I believe that I can best heal in showing that Compassion to any patient, no matter their demeanor or nature." "I applaud your conviction, Samara," William tells her. They walked down a corridor of the family wing, past other guards, and then up another, smaller stairway. Samara shifts her position on the narrower staircase, keeping her hand in William's as she follows him up, and continues to listen. "I am of your opinion. A healer should be a priest of the soul, not a mere scholar. It is a noble calling indeed. As I am sure you know, members of the royal family have always studied healing, to a greater or lesser extent. I hope, in my more optimistic moments, that it helps temper the natural arrogance of out natures." "Oh?" Samara says with furrowed eyebrows. "It is said that some of the Royal family have the gift of healing from the Unicorn. I imagined it something esoteric, as well as study. Why, even I have heard the story of how the Prince Corwin regrew eyes while in the dungeon, far from the most pleasant of infirmaries." "There are other stories of family members healing others in the same fashion." Samara adds. "As you say, however, to study healing is not to be a healer in vocation." "And that makes one such as yourself all the more precious," William says, squeezing her hand slightly. He smiles at her as they leave the staircase, and he opens the door to a chamber overlooking the sea. The small group of musicians begins to play as the door opens, and the aroma of an exquisitely prepared dinner greets their senses. Samara catches her breath as the door opens. The sound of the musicians, playing something similar to Vivaldi, reinforces and complements with the scent of the meal prepared by Michael and his staff. There is a note of the sea air, too, as subtle addition. And it is, as William planned, a gorgeous view. Samara squeezes the hand of William she still holds and then lets go of it. "You *do* know how to fully engage the senses. All of them." the young healer says softly. She then smiles slightly and waits for William to lead and seat her. "Should I be worried, my Prince?" "Do you wish to be worried?" William whispers in her ear as she sits. There is a tremble to her skin, more than can be explained by the slight breeze of the sea air against skin. As the music goes from a relative maximum in tempo and volume and dips toward a soft note of a landing, William can hear Samara catch her voice, and give a bare nod. "Oh, yes." A beat of a pause. "Please." He remains still beside her for a long moment, his breath warm on her neck. Then a hand comes up and delicately traces the line of her jaw, and turns her head towards him. His lips brush hers lightly, and then he steps back. "Milady, let us feast," he says, as he walks around the small table and takes his seat. With hooded eyes and a soft smile, Samara regards William as takes his seat. Like a well oiled machine, the musicians start a new, lighter tune to allow both conversation, and pleasant background music for the meal. And similarly, a few moments later, a servant, one of the junior cooks impressed into service, stands with a tray covering the first course, as well as a bottle of Bayle's best. "With your permission of course, your highness." he says. "So what *have* you had the finest cooks in the Golden Circle prepare?" Samara asks with a smile. "Soup to start, unless I miss my guess," William responds. He smiles as the cook uncovers the tray. "Ah, yes. Michael has once more impressed. A fennel and almond soup, with small amounts of other vegetables, and no doubt very lightly spiced. Very light, meant more to stimulate the appetite than to assuage it." He turns his eyes back to her. "As the vision of loveliness stimulates the imagination, a hint of delights to come." Samara struggles to remain dignified in her seat to get a better look at the uncovered tray. The brief glimpse of the soup is enough to satisfy her curiosity and she returns to a more dignified pose as the cook serves and William explains. A slight nod and a leaning of her head toward William, and Samara responds. "Prince Bleys once told me that he felt that imagination is as important as knowledge, in all things. In art, in work, in sorcery, in matters between men and women, and even in the art of the blade." She takes a spoonful of the served soup, samples it with closed eyes, letting out a soft sound of approval and opens her eyes. "How do *you* feel on the matter, William?" "Imagination in a spice, my dear," William answers her. "The best, and most powerful, spice of all. Like food without spice, life without imagination is dull and dreary. Mere survival, nothing more. But one can not live on imagination, no more than one can feast only on spice." He tastes the soup, and smiles. Samara takes some more soup, eyes flickering up to William over the course of enjoying it. After eating a fair portion, she resumes the conversation. "Well, perhaps large pods of pepper might provide enough sustenance in order to survive. Not that this first course requires any more seasoning." Samara responds with a smile. "However, your point about the judicious use of spice is well taken." "So tell me about your feelings on delight." Samara prompts with a smile. "Or is that subject reserved for the next course?" "Delight is always a topic worthy of discussion," William answers. "Infinitely variable, never quite the same twice. Ah," he raised a admonishing spoon. "But I must take care not to dwell excessively upon myself to the exclusion of the far more interesting topic of you, my dear. Tell me of yourself. You mentioned that my uncle is your mentor, how did this come about?" Samara has the grace to blush slightly as William changes the subject. She takes a couple more spoonfuls of soup before continuing. "I've been told that it is somewhat the doing of his Majesty the king, my lord." Samara begins. "And of the Prince himself of course. As I am given to understand it, once his highness returned to Amber, alive and well, after the War, the King suggested to him that he develop relationships with one or more of the Castle staff." Samara takes a sip of the wine, and then continues. "The Court doesn't have a Royal sorcerer per se, of course." Samara says. "However, his Majesty felt that the knowledge that Prince Bleys' branch of the family should be more widely distributed." "At least, that is what the Prince told me, several years ago, when I found myself treating him for a minor wound after some sort of hunting competition with Prince Julian. He took me under his wing then, and has, since, taught and educated me beyond my ordinary duties." "There is the other rumor and reason why, my lord, of course." Samara adds with a smile. "Rumor," William muses with an answering smile. "A handmaiden of imagination, and her constant companion. As for other reasons..." he raises a glass of wine to her. "Unless you feel they impinge in any way upon our own private affairs, then I see no reason why they should be of concern." Samara listens with intent to William's answer, expectantly, interested and intent, as if it were the cipher to secret code of some kind. "Your disinterest does you credit, my lord." Samara says with a smile. "And no, they do not truly impinge on our own private affairs, and we will discuss them in no further manner." "Did my answer otherwise answer your question?" Samara then asks. William laughs in answer. "You make me sound an inquisitor, my dear," he tells her. "There are no right or wrong answers here. We are, I hope, simply enjoying each other's company. I know that I am." "I hardly would conflate *you* with being a primate of the church, your highness. Or a prelate. Or even." she smiles. "a presbyter. Or else you would have not invited me to dinner." "Your next course, my lord?" the cook-turned-servant asks quietly from William's left on cue. "Please," William answers, gesturing for him to take the emptied soup bowls. The soup bowls are cleared, and following the traditional pattern of fully designed meals in Amber, the next course is a salad. The cook reveals two portions of salad for William and Samara. The salad consists of mixed greens, accented by thin slices of green apple, punctuated by small chunks of feta cheese, and dressed with a vinaigrette. "Ah!" William exclaims. "Yet more perfection from the kitchens of Amber. You notice, Samara, how the tastes combine. So different to each other, and yet together greater than the sum of their parts. A lesson in synergy." "The same might be said to be true of Amber." Samara replies, after a careful and thoughful sampling of the elements of the salad contained in two employments of her fork. "There is an axiom that says that all roads lead to Amber, which is a bit silly, since its clear to me that most people come here by any way except the realm of Prince Julian and his children." She takes another forkful of salad and then continues. "It is also said that every Prince and Princess of Amber brings their findings from Shadow into Amber, enriching it and making it, as you say, greater than the sum of the parts." Samara says. "I know of your three friends of course." Samara says. "Surely, besides they, in the past perhaps, you yourself must have contributed to the salad of Amber and its environs." Samara says. "Oh, I've made my little contributions from time to time," William answers with a chuckle. "Poems, songs, a few odd musical instruments that took my fancy, most of which did not really catch on, I hasten to add, such things as that." He gazes across the table at her, the candlelight sparkling in his blue eyes. "What do they speak of, in the castle and the city, when they speak of me?" Samara takes another bite of salad as she regards her dining companion. A thoughtful look crosses her face, and she smiles into those eyes of William's gaze. "Very well." she says. "After all, it should be no surprise that all of the Royal Family is spoken of, behind closed doors, in taverns, shops, on the streets, and on the docks." "You, my lord, your sister the Princess Asteria, and your mother Royal Princess Florimel are usually spoken of together." Samara continues. "It is true that we mentally group members of the Royal family based on the old King's Queen." "You three, including you, my lord." Samara continues. "are considered to be the most charming and charismatic of the Family." she continues. "And quite aware of the charm that you hold. You especially, my lord William, given that you are the male of the set." "Were our dinner together to become common knowledge in the Castle, or beyond, there would be." she smiles. "assumptions made as to its purpose on your part, and how it will conclude." "And would they be correct, do you think?" William asks her with a smile. "That,my lord." Samara replies, returning William's smile. "is entirely within our hands to decide by the end of dinner." "I must say." Samara adds, as the obsequious chef strolls up with another covered platter to William's side "that you certainly have made a promising entreaty thus far in that direction." "You offer me hope," William answers. "And that is the sweetest spice of all." Samara smiles. "Hope. The last treasure held in Pyrrha's Jar, or so it is said." William lays down his salad fork and turns his attention to the new platter. "And let us see what new delight awaits, to please we two together." Samara leans forward with an expectant, eager gaze, her eyes flickering from William to the platter. The chef-servant unveils the cover, revealing two chicken breasts, coated with some sort of nut crust, and with an aromatic lemon butter sauce drizzled over each, with a sprig of basil artfully placed on the top of each. Each of these are on a small bed of a mixture of white rice and wild rice. "You certainly *do* have the ear of Michael." Samara says as the chef proceeds to plate each portion and refill their glasses. "Speaking of such, milord, I understand like his highness Prince Pollux, and to an extent Prince Martin, that you have the ears of potentates throughout the Golden Circle." Samara prompts once the chef withdraws to give them privacy once more. "This is indeed excellent," William says with a smile, taking a bite. "It does seem that Michael is happy with me these days. I always try to bring a new receipt, or an unusual spice, or some such. He appreciates the effort, I believe, even when he chooses to ignore my discoveries." Samara gives a nod and tries a bite of her own. "Its clear that he does appreciate your effort, if this is any judge." He takes another bite and swallows before adding, "Do rumours of my coming voyage already spread through the castle, then?" "There are the barest glimmerings of such rumors, milord. That you are leaving the Castle. There are contradictory reasons suggested as to why, my lord." Samara says. "Some say it is a punishment for the duel with Prince Triton, others say it is on an errand for his Majesty." "Or is it something else?" Samara asks, as she takes another forkful of food. William makes a face, as though there was something sour in his drink. "Alas that the story of the king's displeasure is making the rounds. One would hope to keep such speculations to a minimum." He shrugs then, and gives a rueful chuckle. "Ah, well, people will talk. Truth is, there was a certain royal annoyance regarding my duel, and being deprived of Amber for a while is punishment indeed, when I have been so long absent. But his majesty, in an excellent example of royal efficiency, is combining it with a duty that needs done. There has not yet been a royal mission to the Golden Circle in the aftermath of the Shockwave, to investigate its effects. I leave within the next few days, so soon as arrangements are finalized." "As a number of the Royal Family were present at the duel." Samara says carefully, taking a now more cautious bite of her food. "it would have been difficult for the story of the duel to remain a secret everlong "And I *do* work in the infirmary, you will remember, my lord." Samara adds, recovering her humor slightly. "I am still somewhat confused as to the circumstances that resulted in the duel, although." she raises her eyes and looks at William. "I am sure that a man of honor such as yourself would not have challenged the son of Corwin for idle or little reason." William smiles and nods at this. Perhaps he would answer the implied question about the reason for the duel, but as she continues speaking he allows this topic to drop from the conversation. "His Majesty is wise in combining his response with duty, rather than a more unpleasant response. Even if." Samara smiles. "it will put any thoughts of continued courtship on your part in delay." "Or require expeditious action upon our part," William interjects. She smiles. "Perhaps" Samara takes another bite and looks thoughtful before speaking. "You've served, or lived, under three Kings now, milord, have you not? And whatever title one assigns to Prince Corwin's brief command." "Indeed. Very different men. Oberon was... well, he was Oberon. No other word can do him justice. Eric sought to live up to his father's example, yet with so many troubles that he never had a chance to find his own way. Corwin.." William smiles once again. "Those were interesting times. And Random, as you well know, is a king unlike any other." "I've seen the emissaries of Kings and other rulers of the Golden Circle in the Castle." Samara says with a nod at William's reply. "I sometimes hear what they say, when they come to the Infirmary, or when they speak together in corridors, believing that none of power can overhear their words." Samara says. "Sometimes, I have been asked to listen deliberately." she adds with a mysterious smile. "What they say of the King, and others, is not always flattering, even as they respect the power of the Kingdom." Samara says, taking another bite of food. William smiles, savouring his food before answering. "They are attempting to judge him by their own standards," he says finally. "In shadow, there's little difference between a king and any other man. So monarchy must be hedged round with dignity and ritual, to give it a semblance of the authority that the King of Amber naturally possesses." Samara's attention easily slides from her bite of food to fixate on William's explanation. "Random does not need to play such games, he is king because he is king. What diplomats from other kingdoms, even our closest allies in the Golden Circle, fail to realize is that we aren't like them. We can't be judged as though we were simply another mortal kingdom that they deal with as an equal. It would be rude to rub their faces in it, of course. And while they have nothing to offer us that we could not find somewhere else, we value convenience, and we value familiarity in our relations. So let them talk. It does not bother Random. And if they grow too insulting too publicly, well, that is what well-known hot heads such as I am for." Samara laughs at William's description, and looks at the scant remnants of her course. She gives a brief glance at the cook, who waits for the moment on William's command. Samara takes a sip from her glass and responds. "Well, its true that the Royal Family, as they say, could obtain anything from anywhere, but is not their proximity to Amber, and their convenience and familiarity, as you say, part of their strength and value? "Lots of grain, I am told, comes from the Shadow Menuis." Samara says. "Maybe even some of this rice..." she lifts a forkful. "although I hear its a dry, desert place and they grow more wheat than anything. There are other places to get wheat, but finding more shadows to grow it and send it to us would take work." "Still, as you say, it doesn't seem to bother Random." Samara says with a smile. "And if Monarch and State are secure, I should just ignore the gossip, yes?" "Oh, no, indeed!" William responds, feigning shock. "Ne'er ignore gossip, 'tis the greatest entertainment to be had, and free, at that." Samara raises his eyebrows and regards William with a surprised expression. He laughs then, and grows a trifle more serious. "And besides, it is the greatest currency of all in dealing with my family. Most of us are incurable gossips, and we do love to hear and tell stories of each other's doings. More besides that, what gossip someone chooses to tell will reveal a great deal about them. And the similarities and differences in what gossip is being told by various groups reveals connections between them, and can also reveal the success of the rumors you are spreading, and what rumors are being spread by rivals. Oh, the importance of gossip can hardly be overstated. The trick is, that it has far less to do with what is actually being said, than all the subtleties of how it is being said, and by whom." "Oh, no, indeed!" William responds, feigning shock. "Ne'er ignore gossip, 'tis the greatest entertainment to be had, and free, at that." Samara raises his eyebrows and regards William with a surprised expression. He laughs then, and grows a trifle more serious. "And besides, it is the greatest currency of all in dealing with my family. Most of us are incurable gossips, and we do love to hear and tell stories of each other's doings. More besides that, what gossip someone chooses to tell will reveal a great deal about them. And the similarities and differences in what gossip is being told by various groups reveals connections between them, and can also reveal the success of the rumors you are spreading, and what rumors are being spread by rivals. Oh, the importance of gossip can hardly be overstated. The trick is, that it has far less to do with what is actually being said, than all the subtleties of how it is being said, and by whom." "So" Samara says, taking the final forkful of food on her plate. "I should hoard, parcel, trade and let slip pieces of gossip, milord, with your cousins, aunts and uncles as an economy of sorts?" She looks thoughful and then brightens in sudden realization. "And many of your family, it seems, milord, have use of the Infirmary now and again, and opportunity to speak with its denizens. Like myself." "I do believe you have given me a precious gift by such an analysis of the Family, milord." Samara smiles. "Freely given, my dear, in exchange for the pleasure of your company, and the exquisite joy of waking from my coma to see you smiling down upon me." "The next course, sir?" the cook asks quietly in William's ear. William nods to the cook without taking his eyes off Samara. The cook busies himself with clearing the plates. He waits until the current course has been removed, then remarks. "And besides, this way I can count on hearing all the delicious gossip from you whenever I return to Amber from my travels." Samara once again seems to blossom under William's attentive gaze. She returns the attentive look as she responds softly, looking over William . "And dare I say, and dare I ask and dare I suggest, milord that the Prince hopes that the hearing of the gossip upon his returns will be in a more convivial environment than the Infirmary?" "Oh, indeed, my dear. It is my most fervent desire." William toasts her with his wine glass and takes a sip. "We shall dare much, together, perhaps." The cook waits patiently, aware of closed conversation if not the details, before bringing out the next course. The next course when it is revealed is the second and final main course. It is almost inevitable, in a Port, and with Rebma nearby to boot, that any meal of sufficient length will include some sort of seafood within it. William's dinner is no exception. Tonight, Michael has brought fillets sea bass, imported from the deep waters around Rebma no doubt, to William's meal, crusted with sea salt and black pepper, topped with strips of bell peppers in yellow, red, and green to form a multicolored lattice. "Ahh!" William exclaims, inhaling the aroma as the sea bass is revealed. "I have been awaiting this. I snuck a peek into the kitchen while it was being prepared." He chuckles. "Patience is all well and good, but one can become satiated with patience, don't you find?" "Patience, like some other things." Samara says "should be practiced in moderation and not to excess." The cook deftly serves each portion of the bass, the tangy sauce that William tasted earlier now only evident as it seeps slightly out of the crust that has allowed it to flavor and bathe the meat of the fish for the cooking process. Samara holds a fork, and waits for William to take a bite before she mirrors the gesture. Patience and anticipation, perhaps are potent spices, but the well seasoned fish would be delicious even without the buildup. With the soft and subtle dexterity of one used to handling delicate medical instruments, William feels her hand just slide underneath the table and gently brushes against his leg at a point just above the knee. "So tender," William says. "Delicate, and yet in no wise does it hide what it is. Perfection, do you not think?" "Na'am" Samara says, a word of agreement and concurrence in one of the languages of the Golden Circle, mostly in the shadow Dahnash, enjoying a second forkful and the bold hand withdrawn, for the moment. "A strength found in its subtle, delicate nature, since it is not masked or hidden." She takes a pair of the peppers and tastes them thoughtfully. "Na'am" she repeats, and looks at William with a smile. "Na'am, habibiti," he answers. "There is a time for dropping masks, and being bold." Samara lifts her eyes and regards William at his response. She offers a a welcoming smile. "You've guessed, or know where I originally come from, milord. It's not a secret or a mask." she says with a smile. "and perhaps you better understand me better knowing from where I hail. I came to Amber seeking fortune, fame, and." her eyes are mischievous. "bold opportunity." "If you wish to see boldness." she continues, her eyes almost glowing "then let me say that I think the time for repast, for now, is past." "The lesser appetites are sated," he agrees, his eyes on hers. "And the more sublime appetites... aroused." He gestures to the young cook, without taking his eyes from Samara. "We are done here," he says. "You may clear." "Very good." The cook glances between Samara and William, only peripherally within the vision of either. With not quite the polish of a servant used to such things, the cook begins taking away plates and glasses, occasionally stepping between Samara and William as he does so. Without being cued to do so, the musicians bring the piece they are playing to a slow and gentle conclusion, like an apple dropped onto a pillow from a low height. "Thank you, milord." Justina says softly as she and the rest of her quartet's music finally comes to a stop. Without much fuss, the four of them stand, and then bow. William rises from his chair. With his eyes still locked on Samara's he addresses Justina. "Play Sí Bheag, Sí Mhór," he says. "The War of the Sidhe." A pause in surprise, and then an unseen bow of the head. "Very good, milord." He holds a hand out to Samara. "Lady," he asks formally. "Will you waltz?" As the first few notes of the waltz begin, Samara rises. Even through the conversations, her gaze has not left William's. With a smile and a slight bow of the head, she nods. "A most agreeable proposal, milord." she says, as she reaches for the hand. "Most agreeable." Justina's string quartet does not include an Irish harp or the traditional instruments that O'Carolan envisioned. So, the cellist's quartet of instruments gives the waltz a deeper sound than perhaps William has heard before. It's clear with the smooth play of the waltz, as smooth as Samara's movements in the dance, that they have played the piece more than once, perhaps on his mother or sister's request. William pulls Samara to him even as he moves into the first step of the dance. He is a strong lead, his right hand in the small of her back conveying his intentions and guiding her without being overwhelming. He keeps his left hand low, in the older style, and his eyes never leave hers as they dance. Samara seems most agreeable to the idea and practice of letting William lead. She falls into the role easily and without reservation. A soft breeze across the balcony brings her just slightly closer to William, the green of her dress briefly billowing as a puff of wind washes over the dancers and the musicians. They dance to the haunting tune, its unearthly blending of joyful melancholy and delicate grandeur sweeping away all thoughts of everything but each other, and this one moment in time as they move together, united. Eventually, the song ends, its last note hanging in the room as William and Samara come to a stop, still holding one another. A long moment of silence follows. "You may leave us now," William says, Samara still in his arms, and his eyes still on hers. "Yes..." comes the voice of one of the quartet but she is hushed or silenced. There is the sound of the four getting up and leaving, but it is muted and quieted. Samara, for her part, completely ignores the their departure, until the soft sound of a door suggests that the pair are now alone at last. William holds her silently until they are alone, and then bends his head to kiss her lips. Her response is shy at first, almost retiring, submissive. Through the moments, the shy, cultural reticence gives way to enthusiasm and unforced response that William is very familiar with. Familiar indeed. When the kiss ends, her eyes are bright, and she is smiling. "I would like a dance of a different sort now, my Prince. A memory for the journey you must soon take. For both of us." "A memory to cherish, my lady," William replies in a husky whisper. He lifts her off her feet and into his arms, kissing her once more as he carries her from the dinner table to a closeted alcove in the chamber, set off from the rest of the room by silk draperies. And the rest of the night fades to black, because a gentleman like William never tells... Backlinks |
