Council in the Star ChamberIndex | Time Under Chaos | Game Logs | Council in the Star Chamber
Damien had taken the time to change from his marginally soiled clothes into a well-tailored suit. It was lined with silk, covered with buttons and stitched patterns, and dark as sin. He idly traced his finger along the circular table as his feet clicked on the flagstone floor. Servants were adjusting the lights and dispensing water glasses, but he paid them no particular attention. As he reached the seat to the right of Mandor's usual position, he stood behind the seat and retrieved a baroque metal seashell which silently slid open to reveal a mirror. He devoted his attention to the lines around his eyes, to his small smug smile, and insured his makeup was unobtrusive. Apparently satisfied with what he saw, he sat and waited for the others to arrive. Flora was the next to enter. She had changed into a gown that combined practicality and elegance - a dark green, with enough black trimmings to suggest that she was in polite mourning - or expected to be so soon. She took a seat at some distance from Damien. Chadwick was soon after, taking a seat at an uncomfortable distance from his mother. Close enough to suggest that he wanted to sit next to her, far enough to suggest he wanted to keep away. He was uncertain how one deals with those such as Johann, and looked forward to a rousing round of politic. Clytemnestra came next, dressed in a gown of dark and light blue, a silver necklace at her throat. Somehow, it not only worked well against the colors of the chamber, but of Flora's gown as well. She sat next to Chadwick. Flora acknowledged her arrival with a graceful nod of her head. She was pointedly ignoring Damien. Damien had nodded to all three as they entered, regardless of whether they were paying attention to him at the time or not. He was eating from a bowl of green olives in herbs and oil. Morgan opened the door and entered, yawning. He hadn't changed clothes since last night, and he clearly hadn't taken time to shave or shower, either. He sprawled in a chair without bothering to greet anyone, slipped a flask from a pocket, and took a long drink. Cly smiled faintly. "You're supposed to bring enough to share with the entire class," she said. Morgan grinned at her and leaned over the table, offering her the flask. Cly accepted it politely, and didn't even look like she was sniffing the contents before she took a sip. It was a smooth, and very powerful, alambic brandy. The taste was deeply layered, with a long, complex finish. Chadwick watched the exchange with some bit of fascination, and then extracted himself from it as she drank. He wasn't sure he could trust anything from Morgan, so he'd not bother to ask. "Perhaps, Morgan, as you are so eager to see your cousins imbibe this morning, you could request the servants to bring us drinks," said Flora with a singularly frosty smile. Chadwick looked, for a moment, like he was going to volunteer to engage in some refreshment retrieval. He raised his hand part way before... "Sure thing, Auntie," Morgan replied with a sincere and not at all frosty smile to her. Without rising from his chair he turned to face the door. "HEY! BRING US SOME DRINKS IN HERE!" he shouted. He looked at the table for something to throw at the door in case his shout wasn't enough to get the servants' attention. Chadwick whinced as the yelling and scuttling outside the door commenced. It was easy to imagine Morgan atop some mountain shouting at gods to fetch him a drink worthy of him, and not that "ambrosia" swill either... something with alcohol in it. Damien failed to roll his eyes as Morgan raised his voice, and ate another olive. "Morgan, how fares the king?" he then asked. Morgan held out his hand to Clytemestra to take back his flask. "Sleeping it off," he said. "He's been drunker. So have I, for that matter. He'll have a nasty head when he wakes up, but other than that no worse for wear." He looked thoughtful. "Have to think about what we want to do tonight to celebrate him getting so drunk last night." "Thank you," Cly said, handing the flask back. She folded her hands on the table, her body language indicating that whatever interest she may have had in Morgan and the drink was lost when he yelled at the door. Flora sniffed, even as the door was pushed open and two liveried footmen entered, staggering up the weight of the trays they bore. One bore tea and coffee in sufficient quantities to satisfy the whole family (if they were to prove in an abstemious mode) and the other held an impressive array of alcoholic drink. They set these on the long highly polished Council table, and then beat a hasty retreat. Flora inclined her head graciously at Clytemnestra, indicating that she would accept tea. Chadwick rose to see to it that everyone received the libation they needed. His mother's indication to Clytemnestra seemed to hold him in check and he sat right back down, waiting for others to partake before serving himself. Cly rose and served, giving a significant look at the others to see what they would take. Damien shook his head marginally. There was already an untouched glass of water next to his bowl of olives, and he had no inclination for coffee, tea, or something stronger. Morgan accepted a cup of tea, then added a generous amount of brandy before drinking. At this point the door opened and Mandor stood poised on the threshhold. Fir a second or two he stood poised, regarding them with the faintest of smiles. Then he strolled forward to take his seat. "Vikund will be joining us shortly," he said languidly. "I imagine we might be held to constitute a quorum." Chadwick paused to allow Mandor to take his seat before gesturing that he too would like a cup of tea. Herbal. Just a touch of lemon and honey. While serving, Cly raised her eyebrows as if to say, 'you really think so?' "So," said Mandor, ignoring Clytemnestra, "what punishment did Oberon decree for those who dared to attack the King? Or shall we follow Eric's precedence and simply burn out his eyes?" Chadwick's eyes shot wide. "Couldn't we... couldn't we talk to him about it? I'm sure it's a misunderstanding, he couldn't possibly have meant to hurt anyone." He was suddenly aware that he was standing. Morgan slowly turned his head towards Chadwick, and regarded him for a long unblinking moment. Then he shook his head, and took and drank half the tea in his cup in one long swallow. Then he added enough brandy to fill the cup once more. Clytemnestra, with an effort worthy of a child of Amber, kept from spilling tea all over the table while pouring Chadwick's drink. She shivered, then decided to quit while she was ahead and put back the teapot. She didn't seem to notice, as she sat, that she had left her father without a drink of his own. "Given the trouble Corwin caused over his eyes, I suggest we dispense with blinding and have him executed. I recall drawing and quartering is the prescribed punishment... although we may wish to reserve that for the commoners, and instead behead Johann," Damien said with a sad sigh which seemed a trifle false. "Unfortunately, we don't have a convenient battle we can trust him to fight for us," he added. "Oh that could be arranged," said Mandor. "As your Grandfather did before when he wanted rid of Cymnea's spawn. I believe he was always a little surprised that Benedict survived that fracas. Traditionally it takes at least three hundred to hold a pass. Yes, given his current frame of mind, it would be easy to convince Johann that he was fighting nobly to defend Amber while we throw expendables against him in some bloody pit. Morgan could run a book on how long he'd survive." A thoughtul look crossed Morgan's face. "I'm not too late to register my customary opposition to capital punishment, am I?" Larissa said from the door. "And what would you suggest instead?" countered Mandor. "Group hugs and co-counselling like your cousin Chadwick?" "Could we," the younger Amberite asked with enthusiasm. "There is also," Larissa continued smoothly (but for a brief disbelieving glance at Chadwick) "the minor matter of a trial. Unless you've decided not to let the law interfere with your little entrapment scheme." She pushed Chad gently down into his chair on her way to assuming her own. "Cly, I'll take tea if you're serving." At which point Vikund walked in and took his seat without ceremony. His usual expression of studied neutrality had been replaced by one you might expect of someone who'd just had a waiter spit in their coffee. He sat back and twirled a pen around his fingers, observing. "We are just debating a suitable ... ah ... reward for Johann Payne," said Mandor. "Perhaps, Vikund, you'd like to add your thoughts. So far we seem to be favouring tucking him up in a nice cosy bed with a cup of milky cocoa and his favourite teddy bear." "Roasting him slowly over a spit is too good for him," Vikund replied evenly. "There's no excusing his activities and they have to be ended here and now." Cly set a cup of tea down for Larissa. "Does it not set a precedence?" she asked. "How many have been executed in Amber for a failed attempt on the king? How many have tried? Executions are rare." She glanced in Mandor's direction. "Or is it Chaosian law that will hold sway here?" "'Attempt on the king?'" Larissa said, frowning, teacup paused halfway to her mouth. "Johann was clearly targeting Mandor." "I'm sure he had wider ambitions than the Prime Minister, it was only Morgan's timely intervention which placed the King out of reach. In either event, an assault on Mandor should -also- carry a capital punishment... his administration is at the behest of the King, to save him from the tedious day-to-day affairs of governance," Damien said mildly before taking a sip from his water glass. "Look," Morgan said in a reasonable tone, "I was out late last night, and didn't get much sleep. Since we all know this is a farce, and Mandy's gonna do whatever he wants, can't we cut it short? We can have the philosophical bullsh!t session some other time." Chadwick looked confused and a bit upset by all of the goings on. He wanted to drink tea and talk like civilized people. Instead, he looked to his mother. Who was certainly drinking tea like a civilised person, her little finger delicately extended. Now she set her cup down on the saucer decisively - not hard enough to damage the delicate porcelain, but firmly enough to make it ring out a single, true note. "In situations like these," she said, "I find myself asking what my father would have done. And my dear, late brother Eric. And I think there we have our answer. Papa sent his own sons to their death for opposing his will, far less mounting a murderous attack. And Eric ... well, we all know quite how ruthless my dear brother was prepared to be for the good of Amber. She raised the tea-cup to her lips and sipped. "Of course," she said pleasantly, "that raises then the question of whther we conflate Lord Mandor's continued good health with the gooof of Amber." Mandor showed just the very tips of his teeth in a narrow smile. "I think you should," he said. "For everyone's sakes." She raised an eyebrow at him. Cly put a hand on his arm, lightly, as much a signal that she wished he would stay as it was a message that she wouldn't stop him. Chadwick set his tea down, as calmly as he could manage, the cup shaking slightly just before it touched down. He rose, looked to Larissa sympathetically, and started for the door. "Do stay, dearest," said Flora. It sounded almost like a request. But not quite. A dry mouthed Chadwick nodded, hoping that the mood of the room changed enough to make the stay pleasant. He struggled with optimism, and won. "For all intents and purposes the King and the Prime Minister are one entity - that being the Head of State," Vikund commented. "Perhaps we no longer live under a despotic single ruler, but I don't think arguing about the semantics makes any difference. The intent was there, and if he were at liberty he would try it again. If the king wants to extend his mercy, that is of course his prerogative, but I don't think this Council has the power to argue over or attempt to mitigate the severity of Johann's offences." "Vikund's ... interesting legal theory aside," Larissa said, "there is no precedent for execution of a member of the family, for any offense. My father spared both Corwin and Random, the latter after a direct attempt on Eric's life. Grandfather sent his eldest to die, but as a political move, not as the sentence for a crime. "Speaking of sentencing, no one has answered my question about a trial." She looked at Mandor. "Thy will be done..." (and here it was a wonder the sarcasm didn't set any of the furnishings on fire) "...but let us know what thy will is so we can get on to more productive discussions, like the ramifications of the reintroduction of gunpowder to Amber." "Here, here!" Morgan said. "If anyone's going to have firearms around here, I'm going to be one of them." Chadwick was not oblivious to the proceedings, and his face read of deep interest. Whatever this 'gunpowder' was, it was causing quite a stir. He would have to do some research. Cly looked as if she were about to say something, but glanced at Mandor instead. "I think," said Mandor, steepling his fingers, "that I should ask Damien for his comments on that particular issue." "In this regard especially, I believe we'll all be much safer with Johann dead. He has enough information to duplicate... my... research on the matter. Research I won't be sharing, for the good of King and Crown," Damien said with a thin smile. "He had asked for several oak barrels full, along with fuses... I imagine he intended to use them to quite spectacular effect," Damien said as his smile widened, and his fingers steepled before him. Morgan's lips twisted in what might have been a smile as he watched Damien. "Did... uh," Chadwick started. "Did he have any plans to use it, though? Could someone go to his camp and get the remaining, the remaining gunpowder?" He was trying to think. This stuff could be bad. "We wouldn't want someone else using it, right?" Clytemnestra looked shocked. "They're not in place already, are they?" "Damien said that Johann had *requested* barrels of gunpower. He did *not* say that he had met Johann's request," Larissa said to Clytemnestra. "But you'll pardon me, Cousin," she continued sweetly to Damien, "for not believing your assurances worth the air it took to speak them. There is not one person in this room who could not duplicate your research if she felt the need. And there are persons...elsewhere who could do so as well. Have you brought a new era of chaos to Amber?" "Surely, Larissa, you aren't suggesting this council would be as endangered by Morgan, or yourself, developing Amber-compatible explosives as a certifiably insane aspiring bomb-throwing anarchist... and as to your suggestion that anyone is capable of duplicating my research, I welcome you to try. Of everyone in this room, I am the only one qualified to say how difficult such research is... and if you were to ask Bleys, I'm sure he would confirm he has met with considerable difficulty in replicating Corwin's success," Damien said, ending on a dry note before dabbing his mouth with a hankerchief. Larissa smiled tolerantly, as if at a dear but somewhat slow child. "I am peaceable and Morgan is lazy. But there are others, not present and not welcome but every bit as capable, who lack your tender solicitude for the health of our Prime Minister. You seem remarkably unconcerned at the prospect of Caine or Julian fielding guns. Her smile disappeared. "I will accept your *assurances* on fashion and wine, Cousin, but *not* when it comes to the safety of the Realm." "Ah, but this is precisely my point, cousin," Damien said as his smile widened. "If Johann lives, he may, he will, expidite the speed with which they discover the processes... for it is research best conducted in the city itself. Should they develop the capacity, I will match it... but to escalate now would allow Caine to steal samples during production. If you crave historical parallels, go bother Ingrey-- suffice to say, they exist in great number," Damien concluded smugly. "So," said Flora, "you are arguing that we should kill Johann, because he *might* discover the mechanics to create gunpowder in Amber, but that we let *you*, who claim to have already achieved this feat, live. Something about the logic of this escapes me for the moment." Mandor was studying his fingertips, but he smiled faintly. "But we can trust him, Auntie," Morgan said smoothly. "It's not like he's the sort of guy who'd shoot his own lover in the back. Oh, wait...." Chadwick looked intently on the scene, trying to unravel what was before him. "In summary: violent man who doesn't invent explosives gets help from treacherous man who does invent explosives? Why weren't both of them captured long ago? We could have prevented the whole incident with a warrant!" He was a little upset, and it was showing. "No one needed to be harmed, nor have the possibility." "Arrest someone on mere suspicion?" said Mandor, sounding much shocked. "Before the act? But that would be the action of a tyrant!" "My goodness, it certainly would be," Clytemnestra said, without the faintest hint of sarcasm in her voice. Chadwick frowned, but he was doing that a lot during this session. Nobody seemed to <i>care</i>, aside from Larissa. Larissa, apparently content with the discussion she had started, sipped her tea and looked at Mandor. She may have been smiling, but it was difficult to tell around the teacup. Damien simply sat, listened, and finished his olives. Flora had made the most transparent gambit, and it was one he had wished to avoid. Nevertheless, the fact was he wasn't going to be executed for his research into gunpowder, or for his close association with Proven Traitor Johann Payne. If nothing else, this morning had assured that. Turning towards Vikund, and still smiling, he asked "Have we any other new business?" Vikund shook his head. "Not from me." Cly kept a steady gaze on Damien, wondering if he thought the gambit to change subjects would really succeed. Morgan turned his empty teacup upside down, and watched the last drop fall onto the table. He briefly looked at the tea pot, considering whether he wanted more, and then decided against it and set the teacup on the table, still upside down. He picked up the saucer and turned it upside down as well, and then began practicing strafing runs on the teacup with the saucer, making quiet "Boop, boop, boop" noises as the saucer approached the teacup, then going, "Feeeooooo" as the saucer fired, ending with subdued explosive sounds made deep in his throat. Then he did it again. Flora sipped her tea. Pointedly. "I think some inroads could be made on civic improvements regarding dockside fires," Chadwick said with a little hope. "They are right next to a large body of water. Even a body of semi-trained volunteers would be better than to have some of the situations seen this morning." He gave a little smile, on the off chance that anyone was bothering to pay attention to him. "Excellent plan," said Mandor. "I suggest you look into it immediately. You could continue to build upon your glowing reputation as hero of the hour." Flora never frowned. Displeasure, instead, wrote itself in a certain angle of her lips. It was there now. But Chadwick, excited from having been noticed and encouraged, paid no attention to his mother, for once. "And Larissa," Mandor continued, "you are eager for a trial - perhaps you would like to arrange one. Tomorrow at dawn should give you adequate time to prepare. Please, let Damien know any arrangements that you need made. I'm sure you'll find him most helpful. And any other of the Council you feel you need." "Delighted," Larissa said dryly. She finished her tea and rose. "Ladies. Gentlemen. Morgan. Good day." With the tiniest of curtseys for the room, she swept out. "Clytemnestra, if you have no pressing engagements, perhaps you could aid in the reception of some visitors I am shortly expecting from Chaos. Morgan - do you believe the King will be recovered enough to receive them?" "If you don't mind," Vikund said to Clytemnestra, "May I tag along? There's something I'd like to discuss with you en route." Cly nodded to both men, her father first. With a "whish, whish, whooooo," Morgan brought the saucer in for a careful landing on top of the teacup. Only after quietly announcing, "Shore leave is now authorized," did he look up to answer Mandor. "Depends on how shortly you're talking about, and what mood you want him in," he said. "Give him two hours and he'll be able to throw things, growl, and insult whoever it is you're bringing. Make it four, and he'll stare at them sullenly and tell them to bother you for whatever it is they want. Six to eight hours, a nice hot bath, and a good meal, and he'll be his normal self. Which doesn't mean he might not do any or all of the preceding, of course, depending on circumstances." "Then it will be up to me to arrange for their comfort, until His Majesty is is prepared for them," Cly said. "Do they have any- special- needs? How many should I expect?" "Three young ladies," said Mandor. "One of them is known to you. Your sister. Another is, I believe, her bosom friend." There was a smashing sound as Cly's cup fell to the floor and shattered. She stared at it for a second. "Excuse me," she said, finally. "How clumsy of me. I'll... I'll have someone clean this up. And be ready for our... visitors." "For your sister," Morgan repeated helpfully. "And her .... bosom ... friend." His voice lingering lovingly over the word 'bosom'. "Merl might be ready a bit earlier in that case," he said to Mandor. "He likes sisters and their bosom friends." He smiled at Clytemnestra. Chadwick, sensing that the meeting had drawn to a close, stepped outside. He had much to do. The look Cly gave Morgan wasn't quite disgust, but it was close. "Morgan," she said, "your friendship with the King notwithstanding, even I would hesitate to make that kind of inference in front of my sister's... and my... father." She smiled. "But I'll leave you two to talk gentlemanly things. I think I'll leave the servants to clean this up, after all. Vikund, you said you wished to escort me?" "I did," Vikund said, positively springing from his chair to join her. "Ready when you are." [Cly] smiled to those remaining. "I'll see you all later." Morgan chuckled and waved at her. He ignored Vikund. Mandor acknowledged her departure with an inclination of his head; Flora with a slight abstracted smile. "I was thinking of taking a stroll down to the dungeons," Mandor said to Morgan, seemingly unruffled by the exchange between his daughter and Morgan. "Will you accompany me? Or will you return to the King?" "Oh by all means let's visit the dungeons," Morgan answered. "I haven't spent nearly enough time examining them. Never know when I might want to break out of them, after all. Mom told me to always be prepared."
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