Breakfast in ArdenA simple affair of fruits and wholesome cereals, enjoyed in their private tree retreat by Julian and Islain. The retreat was simplicity itself - a platform high in the branches, which swayed gently in the breeze, a movement reminiscent to Islain of the sough of the sea. Breakfast arrived by a device of pulleys which transported everything upwards in a wide, flat-bottomed woven basket. This morning, however, it arrived with a note which Julian read, his dark eyebrows lifting. "We've captured a Chaosian spy," he said to Islain. "However, this one claims he is an emissary with a message to you. "From Mandor." Her eyebrows rose, matching his, and she extended a hand for the note, but her eyes never left his face. "From the Man himself? How intriguing..." Her lips curved in mirthless amusement and she said slowly, "While I can't begin to imagine what he thinks to discuss at this late date, I do find myself intrigued. If you'd like to go down with me, we shall... sift... this messenger." "Certainly," said Julian. His face was as calm and emotionless as if they had been discussing how well the Rnagers had performed in the latest shooting match. "Command what preaparations you will - whether you wish us to receive him as emissary or enemy." "A bit between I think," Islain said, quickly sweeping up a jacket and buttoning it over her chemise. "No overt hostility, but no especial kindliness either, not until we're assured he's no spy or assassin." She ordered that the messenger be held in a secluded tent, with guards with weapons, but not tied up. She then climbed down from the fort and made her own way to the aforementioned tent. The messenger was waiting there - standing with his back to the entrance of the tent. He had dark hair worn in a plait, and was of a good height. He seemed calm - he had a small book open in his hand and was reading this while he waited. When he heard Islain and Julian, he turned and swept a low bow - but not before Islain had seen a swift sight of his face - arrogant and handsome. Islain did not acknowledge the bow, standing beside Julian with an icy, statuesque glamor, the majesty of complete confidence. "I am Princess Islain. Speak your message to me." The man straightened - he seemed no whit intimidated. "And I am Drake, son of Lord Niran of House Mahanakorn, and I have been sent to invite you to return to Amber." Islain felt herself laughing and knew that she felt no real mirth, only cold amusement. She looked at Julian, then back to Drake. "Well, Lord Drake of House Mahanakorn, that is an interesting offer. Please elaborate. In particular, I am interested in when, how, and why?" "Whenever you wish," said Drake promptly. "How ... why, we could send a wyvern. And why ... " He smiled, coldly. "Lord Mandor wishes to discuss a certain betrothal with you." There it was - that flicker of lashes - as Islain's cool regard of Drake was warmed by a tinge of interest. It made her appraisal of him no less carnivorous. "I trust there is some sort of set message beyond this, some assurance that if I were to take this offer, whatever it may be, I would not be walking into a rather clumsy trap? It is known to me that I am numbered among Mandor's enemies, and I do recall an instance he told me exactly how much the word of a Chaos Lord is worth when offered to an enemy. If there is any such assurance, tell me of it, and elaborate as far as you have been entrusted the nature of this betrothal." "My instructions," said Drake, "are to speak to you ... alone." Even though she could not see him, Islain could almost feel Julian's frown. "Hm." Islain pushed a hand through her heavy black curls. "Prince Julian is Master here. It will be on his discretion whether you speak alone or in his presence, but it matters little, as I shall repeat whatever you say to him any way." She turned and looked at her uncle. "What do you say, Highness? Shall we have this man speak more freely according to his orders, or some other way?" "You may speak to him alone," said Julian. "And afterwards ... he shall speak with me." If this was a threat, Drake seemed unaware of it. He smiled slightly, and glanced at Islain as though gauging her response. Her face was more expressionless than ever as she nodded to Julian, and that, perhaps was a reaction. "Yes, sir," she said, and it was a caress, a gesture of at least as much respect as 'Your Highness.' "He shall. And I shall." Islain sat on a small crude chair set up on the right side of the tent and crossed her legs, looking up at Drake as Julian exited. She took out a small cigarette case, removed a long thin black cigarillo and lit it with a flourish. She had probably hidden the match in her fingers. Probably. She took a long and most likely satisfying drag. "Well?" she said on the exhale. "If you are to consent," said Drake, "then you may choose your own escort to Amber from any of those who are among its inhabitants, save only the King himself. So says Lord Mandor. By the borders of Garnath you willl be met and escorted with great honour to the city, should you choose to come." He was looking at her closely. "The Lady Flora herself has given orders for the refurbishment of your rooms. Nothing shall be disturbed there, but all shall be clean and fresh as though not one hundred years had passed but merely one hundred minutes." "I am not so concerned with the manner of my return as I am with the very likely possibility all this is a trap." Islain took another drag and blew a passable smoke ring. "Does Lord Mandor say anything or offer any proofs to assuage my fears on that score?" "No," said Lord Drake. "He assumed that the escort of your family would assure you that all was safe." He smniled at her, pleasantly courteous. "I hold a trump of your sister that you may use." Islain's laughter was rich and deep, and from the glitter in her eyes, truly amused. "Lord Mandor, it seems, knows little of my family, then. While I do not believe Larissa would be party to an attempt on my life, her innocence would make a trap arranged around her far cleverer. I do appreciate your offer, but I feel at present I must decline, unless Lord Mandor offered a Trump of himself?" Drake smiled. "Would you trust that more? I have one here - but I am to assure myself that you are unarmed before I allow you usage." "The Prime Minister is cautious about little Islain?" she seemed incongruously happy to hear that. "How marvelous. Well, I will give you my weapons before I call him then, if I call him, but before that, we are both going to talk to Prince Julian. And no, dear, I *don't* trust that either, but that you have such a thing at all reassures me somewhat." She rose and dusted invisible dirt from her skirts. "Do you have any more to your message?" "No more to my message," said Drake calmly, "save to tell you that should I be killed or returned to Amber minus some body parts then ... Lady, all bets are off." "If I were a betting woman, I wouldn't lay my odds so heavy," said Islain lightly. "Well, wait for me. I may be a few minutes." She strode to the tent flap then, keeping an eye on the prisoner at all times as she did, lifting the flap with her off hand and ducking out so that the guards could see inside as she did. (Assuming Julian is waiting nearby) Islain walked straight to Julian. "Would you like to speak to him now or would you speak first to me?" He looked at her levelly. "You're not proposing to go back to Amber?" It was very nearly not a question. "Tactically, it is not unsound," Islain said neutrally. Her voice dropped to an almost whisper. "I've made no decisions, but it is worth discussing. A lot easier for you to get in if I'm there already. They'll know I'm a spy, but the position is much better. I might be able to get us better intelligence - I might even be able to plant a knife in some important shoulderblades. Of course, it *is* dangerous, and very likely a trap, but our Chaosian friend is offering me a Trump of Mandor." "A chance to use a trump of Mandor," said Julian. "Mandor wouldn't trust you with his trump in a thousand years. Which is about the length iof time you've lied to men to get what you want, isn't it, my beautiful, heartless love?" Islain's eyelashes fluttered in surprise and she looked up at Julian with an expression stripped suddenly of all the statue's calm. "Then Drake is lying either about possessing the thing, or about who gave it. If it is the latter, the opportunity remains. If the former, I will go nowhere. Regardless, I was going to ask your counsel. The decision is by no means made. But... as heartless as you think me, my love, I do not lie to you. I will be content here forever if I am with you, and yet we both seek to supplant Chaos from Amber City. What would you do, if this offer had been made to you?" "I hardly think I would be offered Merlin's hand in marriage," said Julian. "But Islain ... if Mandor was, for once, being honest, would you accept? Would you marry the boy?" Islain made a sound of exasperation at his quip and took his hand gently in her own. "No," she said quietly. "I would not. There was a time when I would have, but that time is past. But I would lie to him, and to Mandor, and to this Drake, to get what I want. To get *us* into Amber." Julian smiled bleakly. "And I am to have faith that this is all your are doing? When Mandor calls, and you prepare to rush toAmber?" "Go, Islain. And we shall see what happens." He was holding her close to him now, holding her upper arms. And the vice grip of his fingers was bruising her soft skin as he stared into her eyes... Her breath quickened, her teeth gritting, but she kept her gaze firm and clear on his. "That is not what is happening. Oh, my dear one, can you not see the difference? I am entertaining the possibility... not flying anywhere. Command me to stay, and I will stay. Tell me you think it is the most logical and correct tactic, and I will stay. If you ask me to make this decision alone, I will go. But do not mistake me so much as to believe that I go for any purpose but revenge." "Command you?" he echoed. "No ... I won't hold you against your will. But Amber ... is seductive. It always has been. And I fear that once you are gone, I shall lose you." He smiled faintly. "I did not even fear the armies of Chaos as much as I fear this." "Oh, my love," Islain breathed. "You cannot lose me. Do you not remember our passion when we first met here in Arden? Or the night after? Or last evening? It has not changed. It will not change. I love Amber and I love you. But I will not give up one for the other." "Very well then," said Julian. "Shall we see this messenger together, and send back your answer?" "Yes," Islain said, but did not move until he did. "I'll want to see this Trump of Mandor, if it exists..." When they returned, however, the tent was empty of Drake - and the guards were arguing. The both started and looked at Julian. "He went, Sir." "Fled, Sir." "A flash of light - like all the colours of the rainbow." "A trump," said Julian. The guards nodded. "He wasn't expectingit," said one. "Didn't seem to want to go," agreed the other. "And for him to be called away in the middle of a highly important and sensitive negotiation," said Julian, "suggests that something pretty serious has taken place in Amber. "Or, of course, in Chaos." Islain raised her hand to her introspective face, fingertip rested lightly on her upper lip. She nodded. "I have no contacts so far away as the Courts," she murmured, considering. "I have some cards for Amber but I am loathe to show my hand at the moment by using them. 'Confusion to our enemies' is a good toast, my lord, but I do hate it when it becomes 'confusion to us' as well." Her fingers tapped at the card-case in her deep pocket. "Whatever happens, my sister will take care of herself. She is... usually... adequate in that regard." As though on cue ... Islain began to feel the tingling of a trump, even as an archer of the Golden Bough approached Julian and knelt ... In the tent, Islain suddenly stood straighter. Her hand crept to her bodice and removed a long slender knife which she held lightly between her thumb and first fingers. "There's a Trump for me," she said to Julian, and then accepted.
"Sister. Please don't knife me; I have a lot to do this morning." Larissa was, uncharacteristically, wearing blue. "If you're well, that's at least one thing right in the world." She sighed. Islain visibily relaxed and replaced her knife in her bodice. She was wearing white, which did not manage to make her look innocent, but did make her look incongruously young and fresh as the morning. "And you. We have suspected something may be afoot at one of the Poles, and I hoped whatever it was, you would make it through safely." She looked her sister up and down. "You look very pretty. I take it whatever is wrong with the world at least allowed you a change of clothes." "It's an ill wind, hmm?" Larissa smirked a little, but it did not last. "I'll be quick. Johann, impetuous fool that he is, made an attempt on Mandor's life this morning. It failed, I suspect because of Damien. Johann is, or will shortly be, in the dungeons. How long he has to live is yet to be decided. "Merlin is incapacitated, because of--and this is the interesting part--the Pattern. I invoked it to control the side effects of Johann's idiocy, and it poleaxed our dear King. I'll be getting a report on his condition shortly." Larissa let out a deep breath. "How goes your morning?" "Confusing," Islain pronounced slowly as she digested the new information. "Poor Johann... Never could trust anyone to have the brains to blow their noses or perhaps the experience to set up a proper timeline. And when he did choose to trust someone he chose to trust Damien..." She shook her head slowly. "I'll assume if I tried to Trump him out I'd be blocked. I may get a bit more creative this evening and that's fair warning, 'Rissa." "If I can help, let me know," Larissa said. "Mandor's spilled quite enough of our Blood." Islain bit her lower lip. "I had a messenger. Perhaps from Mandor, but he's been and went. Do our friends the Lords Sawall mention me occasionally?" "No more so than usual," Larissa said, neutrally. Islain chuckled. "I appreciate the news," she said. "Very much. Thank you, sister." "You're welcome," Larissa said with a nod. "Petra should be by shortly. It would be better if you were to pretend that this is all news when she arrives; I prefer to foster the illusion that you and I are not quite on speaking terms." The darker sister mirrored the nod. "Officer thinking, my dear. Petra Rossi, of the Rambling Queen? Why would *she* come *here*?" Larissa gave a one-shouldered shrug. "She said something about being a 'neutral third party,' though in the same conversation, she implied that she has a more-than-casual relationship with Caine." She pursed her lips. "If it was a lie, it was a clever one. I don't venture to predict where she will cast her loyalty." "That is not quite an answer, but I suppose I shall have to ask her." Islain glanced over her shoulder to see where Julian had progressed in his conversation with the archer, then turned back. "As long as she cannot predict yours. Caine *would* see the use in a woman of her talents." There was absolutely nothing layered in the use of the word 'talents.' It was a simple statement of fact. "I *hope* I've had more practice at being inscrutable than that," Larissa said. "I need to be on my way, before things get decided in my absence." As she repositioned the chair away from the door, she left the contact open in case Islain had parting words. Islain did. "Good. Be that pragmatic, mysterious woman you've been for a hundred years a little longer. And if you see me in Amber sooner than anticipated, don't be surprised." She then allowed the contact to close. Trump call ended, Larissa emerged, and strode in the direction of Merlin's chambers.
And Islain put her full attention on her uncle. "Forgive my distraction." Julian smiled, moving towards her, but not approaching as closely nor as intimately as he normally would. "Petra approaches," he said - and she heard in his voice not only information, but also a constraint - a reason for discretion.
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