Crisis: Larissa's MidgameIndex | Time Under Chaos | Game Logs | Crisis: Larissa's Midgame
Larissa watched Clytemnestra and Chadwick until the carriage was out of sight, then sagged against a nearby wall, ignoring the curious stares from onlookers. "Coirann," she said to nothing, "you can come out." "How do you do that?" Coirann grumbled, stepping out of a nearby alley. "I came when I saw the smoke. Didn't expect half the Court to be here, too. What the hell was that?" "The plot thickening," Larissa told her, taking her arm and steering her into a half-burned building, beyond the range of casual eavesdroppers. "Run to the Castle," she said, quietly. "Borrow a horse or steal one, if you think it will be faster. Tanstaafl should be asleep in my rooms somewhere. Roust him, ignore his protests, and send him to look in on Merlin." "Think Morgan'll allow it?" Coirann asked, as she idly picked at a charred wall. "If he doesn't, the argument Tanstaafl is to use is that Solitaire's opinion on Merlin's condition will be a truthful one, whereas Mandor's will serve only his own interests." Larissa took a deep breath and stood straight. She shook ash out of her skirt. "You think the fuzzball is up to all that?" Coirann was dubious. "Much like Morgan, he's not a fraction so useless as he pretends." Larissa jerked her head uphill, in the direction of the Castle. "Now go. Time is the one thing I can't bargain for more of...yet." "I'm gone." Coirann rubbed a sooty hand on her trousers, and strolled back onto the docks. Her casual posture lasted only until she turned into the alley whence she'd come, and then Larissa heard running footsteps that receded into the maze of the city.
"<<Johann, you idiot,>>" she cursed her cousin in Tradespeak. "<<As though there aren't few enough of us as it is.>>" A moment, and then, face composed, she stepped out of the burned building and walked toward the Ramblin' Queen's mooring, her pace rather slower than anyone familiar with Larissa would find customary. At the top of the gangplank, she paused, uncertain as to protocol. All her previous entrances had been by Trump, and under threat of being left in an even less savory part of the City by the departing Merlin. She turned to the nearest person in a Security uniform. "Permission to come aboar--" She cut herself off as she noticed something out of the corner of her eye. "Has someone been riding a horse on your deck?" That put a sour look on the young man in question's face for just a moment. "Si, Your Highness. Without permission, I assure you. "Permission to come aboard. How may I assist you? We are officially closed during the day." "I wish to speak to Petra, at her earliest convenience. It is a family matter, not one of business." Larissa's tone was only a little imperious, to offset the ash in her hair. If he noticed her disheveled appearance, he was polite enough to act like he saw nothing out of the ordinary. "Of course. She is in a staff meeting right now, but if you will follow me, I will take you somewhere to wait in private while I let her know." He stepped back and opened the door to let her through. "Thank you," Larissa said, with the sort of smile that had charmed hardier men than Petra's daytime security. "My regards to Mr. DiBenedetto...and if it wouldn't be overmuch trouble, might I have a glass of water while I wait?" "Of course," he replied agreeably. She was led to the ship's library, where he gestured at a closed door between bookshelves. "There is a bathroom through there, and you will find water at the bar. I will let Ms. Rossi know you are waiting." And she was left alone and -a room of rich woods and deepest reds, a painting of two masked (and fully costumed) dancers in an intimate embrace over the small desk across the room from the small bar, and her escort moved quickly down to the staff meeting to alert the boss. As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, Larissa pulled a stack of Trumps from a pocket in her skirt. She selected one, and focused on it, but before the contact could even make its fuzzy beginnings, thought better of it and tucked the cards away again. A pair of long strides brought her to the bar, where she poured and then knocked back a glass of water with a practiced ease that Morgan would have approved of, in the case of a less innocuous beverage. Setting a second glassful on a side table, she sat, steepled her fingers and closed her eyes, and thought hard. It was only a few minutes before the Library door opened and Petra stepped inside. "I would say good morning, but I would be lying. How can I help you this morning, Larissa?" "Petra," Larissa acknowledged her. 'Rissa had clearly seen better mornings. The Princess's hair and clothes were streaked with ash, and the line of her shoulders bespoke anything but relaxation. "What happened? I was...distracted. Mandor will tell me only what suits him, and that does not suit me." She brushed a stray hair from her face, in the process worsening a soot smudge across her forehead. "I fear--" she stopped, then sighed. "I fear I may have done Merlin an injury." Petra pursed her lips thoughtfully and then ambled over to the desk and dug around for cigarette. She turned back to Larissa. "That is possible," said Petra slowly. She used the candle on the desk to light her cigarette and watched Larissa a moment more before making up her mind about something. "That wasn't sorcery that contained the fires, was it? Even though I can't do it, I am no stranger to magic. An area spell that large would been felt, and the air would have smelt of ozone, even over the smoke and burning wood." "No. It was the Pattern," Larissa confirmed. "I...made it unlikely that the fire would spread--though Chadwick may have the glory of it, and welcome." She frowned. "And I think I punched Damien. But the important detail is whether Merlin reacted badly to the Pattern. He was fine when I began. When I stopped, he was unconscious. I can't help but suspect a connection." Larissa's usual dry humor rang hollow. "Then it probably will not soothe your mind to know that they were saying it was the touch of Pattern combined with too much alcohol," said Petra. "However, I just checked the logs for last night; Merlin and the twins entertaining him had just under three bottles between them. Fire Wine and champagne. That isn't a lot for a normal group of three, and certainly not for Merlin." "And you did punch Damien," Petra confirmed for her. "Portia tells me it was a thing of beauty." Larissa listened, her unchanging expression suggesting that Petra was only confirming that which she already knew. "There are some who will try to use that against me," she said, leaving it uncertain just what the antecedent to "that" was. Larissa slouched in her chair, eyes closed. "Damien betrays a man who was his ward, friend, and lover for more than a century to a man whose armies that same century ago he was the last to flee. The children of an uneasy truce become adults. Merlin is a Pattern initiate, yet faints at its use...." She trailed off. Petra's expression indicated these points had already crossed her mind as well. "Guard your back, Cousin, and your front, too," Larissa said wearily, eyes still closed. "We have just begun living in interesting times again." "Si," Petra agreed darkly. "We expect this is only the beginning of unfortunate events, and Mandor's sudden interest in me does not help my nerves." At this, Larissa's head snapped up, but she let Petra continue. She exhaled smoke between her teeth. "I believe you and I have some basic...philosophical differences of opinion, Larissa. But underneath that, we are family." She snorts with some amusement. "I know this doesn't mean the same thing here as it does where I came from, but that matters to me. Should you need anything in the days to come, I am not without resources. This is not something I offer lightly, and there are some I would extend the offer to only on pain of death-if then." "Not in truth all that different, I think--though we can discuss it at length later," Larissa said with what was either genuine warmth or a Flora-caliber counterfeit. "It's no secret that I was not raised in Amber--to my father's endless frustration," she continued. "Family means much in the culture that formed me, too. Do you think anything else could have kept me here these hundred years, with all of Shadow as an alternative?" She punctuated that with a mirthless chuckle. "And--though I'm certain you don't want to hear it--your father was among the best. There is little I would have refused him. I'll do no less for his daughter." Larissa paused, and her eyes twinkled. "A warm embrace might be fitting, but I think you'd take the worst of it," she said, shaking her skirts and sending a puff of ash into the air. Petra laughed. "I have had worse. But allow me to offer you the use of a bath and a change of clothes. Goddess knows, we surely have something in the few dozen wardrobes on this ship to suit you, and you should not return to face the castle looking like you have been in a war zone, especially since I'm sure there will be a meeting at some point for you lot." "And we could continnue our conversation, assuming you are not one of those offended at the idea of bathing as a social action." Petra smiled impishly. "I promise not to try and seduce you." "'Seduction' implies you anticipate a certain degree of resistance, cousin," Larissa said evenly, and continued before Petra could respond. "I'll gladly take you up on the bath and change of clothes...and a horse, if you have one to lend. The sooner I can be at the Castle, the better." "I am unsure as to the state of my horses at the moment," Petra said with a wave of her hand and a smile. "My carriage was used to transport that idiot back to the castle, and few more steeds are being used by the staff for business in town. I can, however, offer the use of a trump sketch to the courtyard." "Even better." She crushed her cigarette out and started towards the door. "If you'll follow me, cousin, perhaps we can solve all Amber's problems over tea and bubbles." "That would have to be a truly staggering amount of tea," Larissa said, rising. "I imagine it will take a staggering amount of tea," Petra smiled as she led her guest out into the hallway. She waved away the security guard who had taken a position outside the Library and led Larissa through through the main lounge that was mostly empty by now and up the stairs that led to her business office and into her private rooms. As they walked through the sitting room, where the remains of a half eaten dinner for two was in the process of being cleared away, Petra paused and indicated a confectionary castle sculpted of dark chocolate to the young man clearing the table. "Leave that, and bring us up tea and my hazelnut coffee blend." She then continued on through a bedroom too dark to see much in and into a spacious bathroom. She started the bath in the large corner tub before turning back to Larissa. "Hmm..," she mused, studying her cousin. "You can raid my closet, I think. In the meantime," she waved Larissa to a chair in front of the vanity. "We can get some of that brushed out of your hair and we can interrogate one another in a friendly manner." "How about something in a leopard print?" Larissa asked dryly, settling herself. "Everyone will be so shocked that I'll be able to make my opening moves unopposed." She was pulling out hairpins as she spoke, and they were adding up to a substantial pile on the vanity. Petra raised an eyebrow as she observed Larissa in the mirror. "I do not believe you will find any such thing in my closets. Just because this is a glorified gentlemen's club does not mean we have all left good taste and rational thought at the door." "I stand--sit--corrected," Larissa said aimiably. Her hair, free of pins, fell past the seat of the chair. "I only start fights when I'm cranky, and the promise of a bath has improved my mood considerably." She grinned at her cousin's reflection. Producing a hairbrush, Petra stepped up behind her and started gathering and brushing out Larissa's hair, ignoring the ash drifting to her carpets. "Since your mood is improved, I will ask a question that has Antonia a bit miffed with you: Why do you come here and then stay shut up in a salon doing physics?" "I came along to mother hen Chadwick after Merlin and Morgan derailed our dinner, then realized he's an adult, and that Flora can y'he'szh erna'al." She pursed her lips. "'Kiss my ass' is probably the closest version of the sentiment in Thari. "As to why I didn't avail myself of the circumstances--that brings us to those philosophical differences. I'm not certain where to begin on those." Larissa picked at the grime under her nails with one of her many hairpins. "You'll find a manicure set in the right hand top drawer," Petra informed her mildly. "Mmm." Larissa fished it out, and became distracted by a cuticle trimmer. "Perhaps you should begin at the beginning, si? I find that's usually best." "My disapproval of the entire socioeconomic system in place in Amber?" Larissa asked. "Yes, I'm aware of how open that makes me to pointed remarks about my position within the heirarchy," she said, pulling out bits of the manicure kit in search of something that would serve in place of a hairpin. Petra shrugged. "Yes, well, not a lot to be done for that. We have to work within the framework currently in place. I understand it has been this way for ages. It isn't going to change anytime soon. "How is this my fault?" Larissa seemed taken aback and stopped mid-nailcare. "It's isn't." "Granted, I was not a witness to it, but Goran was fairly vibrating with indignation when he left the salon last night after checking on you, according to Antonia," Petra continued blithely. She paused to work out a tangle in Larissa's hair "I haven't gotten all the details yet, but I understand you insulted his job." She glanced at the tub and smiled at Larissa's reflection. "Bath time." "Ah, that's his name," Larissa said, contorting to unzip her dress, which she let crumple to the floor as she stood, revealing a matched set of distinctly non-medieval lingerie printed with assorted playing cards. "Goran made a transparent play to my vanity, to which I responded by baiting him with equal transparency. Perhaps, in his embarrassment at rising to said bait, he didn't relate that part to Antonia." "It is possible," Petra agreed as she tossed her shirt aside, revealing that she had nothing but skin underneath. She eyed Larissa and laughed as she went to turn off the taps. "Oh, I like those. Do you play poker, Larissa?" "I import them from Shadow, where they understand such sartorial concepts as 'elastic.'" Larissa unstrapped the sheaths around her thigh and forearm and deposited them on the dresser. "I play from time to time, but I get bored with cleaning Merlin and Morgan out as their inebriation proceeds. I just end up spending it on their bar tab later." She shucked her underwear and climbed into the tub, submerging entirely. "Glorious," she said when she reemerged. "Ash itches." Trousers joined the shirt on the floor and Petra joined Larissa at the opposite side of the tub. "That it does," Petra agreed and handed Larissa a sponge and an elegant glass bottle of lightly scented liquid soap. "One of these days I'll get the water pressure figured out enough to have showers on this ship. It is vexing. Cornaro has a more advanced technology then Amber, but I must go further afield still to ride a motorcycle, and the air still smells better out there then it does here in town." Petra waved a hand. "No use complaining. That will not change no matter who pulls the strings." She then proceeded to wash her hair. "It's not an insoluble problem," Larissa said, soaping up. "The Castle uses altitude, but on ship, you might substitute a weight or an elastic membrane. "Motorcycle? Would that be a powered bicycle?" Petra stilled and frowned slightly. "Er... in a way. I never gave it much thought. If you wouldn't mind sitting down one day and speaking with Angelo about the shower issue, I would be eternally grateful though." She slid underwater and rinsed her hair. "Certainly." She emerged to watch Larissa a moment. "Tell me about Mandor. He had dinner with me last night, and I'm not sure what to think." "Mandor." The cold hatred with which Larissa pronounced the name should have caused its bearer to shiver, no matter where in Shadow he be. "Given this morning's events, I suspect he was here so that he could present himself as a target for Johann. That he could indulge his Amberite fetish was merely a bonus." Larissa scrubbed angrily at her hair. "Good theory," Petra mused. "Explains a few things too." She paused at the sound of a soft knock on the door and checked that Larissa was pretty much covered in bubbles before replying to it. "Entrare!" "Not that he's not still as dangerous as an open flame," Larissa muttered. "Certainly," Petra agreed cheerfully. "I believe you were waiting for this," Vincenzo said as he glided in with a tray bearing tea and Petra's coffee cup, looking as if he walked in on beautiful women in the bath several times a day-which he probably did. "Just put that on my desk," Petra said with a gesture at the thick file under his arm. "This is Larissa." "Larissa, our Security Chief, Vincenzo. Who I am certain would one day also like to sit down with you and pick your brain." "Mr. DiBenedetto," Larissa said with a radiant smile. "A pleasure." She offered him a wet hand. Having set their cups on the side of the tub, Vincenzo took her hand with deceptive gentleness. He bowed over to and brushed the air just over her knuckles in a proper manner while maintaining eye contact with her the whole time. "It is a distinct pleasure to finally meet you," he smiled. Petra sat back with her coffee and smirked. Larissa cocked her head at him. "If my reputation precedes me," she teased, "how could you possibly be pleased to meet me?" Petra chuckled into her coffee and Vincenzo merely smiled wider as he straightened. "That would be precisely why." Petra waved a hand at the bench her discarded shirt draped over. "If Larissa doesn't mind, perhaps you would like to stay while she tells me about Mandor's Amber Fetish." Larissa shrugged. "Isn't it obvious? He has spent a century in a place where the very fabric of reality is hostile to him. Why? I can think of three reasons." She ticked them off on soapy fingers. "One. He is either too desirous of control or too uncertain of his power to leave for even a month to attend to matters in the Courts. Which brings me to two. He is unwelcome in the Courts--which, if my information is correct, is a distinct possibility. Amber was supposed to be destroyed, not conquered. Dara promised Amber's destruction, and who has seen her for a century? Someone, probably Mandor, disobeyed orders. What puts him outside Swayvill's reach? Being in Amber. "And then there's three. He is obsessed with us," she said in digust. "Fiona rebuffed him and now he is playing his games with our generation. "I think it's some of each." Larissa dunked and rinsed her hair without waiting for a reply. She remained under for quite some time, having a lot of hair to rinse. Vincenzo gave Petra a pointed look that lasted for several minutes as she first tried to ignore him then finally gave in. "What?" Petra demanded. "It's not like seriously want to date the man! But I don't have a good reason to tell him no, do I? I can't very well say 'Oh, sorry. You give me the creeps.' and we aren't even going into the other reason, so don't look at me like that. He turned me into a cat, dammit! Twice! And that's with him professing an interest in me. What's he going to do if I make him mad?" "It's a problem," Larissa agreed, wringing out her hair. "Solitaire could probably break any spell of his, though." She stood to avoid dipping her hair back into the bath. "Could I trouble you for a towel, Vincenzo?" He stopped gaping at Petra and fetched Larissa a towel from the other side of the room. "Thank you." "Cousin, I appreciate your hospitality, all the more so in light of your honesty, but there are urgent matters afoot to which I must attend. If I might push you to make good on that offer of a borrowed dress and Trump sketch?" Standing at the vanity, Larissa strapped her concealed holsters back on, and began to brush her hair. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Larissa," Vincenzo smiled at her reflection. "Perhaps we may talk again some time. See how much has been accomplished in just a few minutes?" "Perhaps," said Larissa with a tight smile. "Though I think the next few days will be busy ones." Petra rolled her eyes and disappeared back into the bedroom to find Larissa something suitable to wear to the castle. Larissa quickly braided her hair and pinned it so that the braid wrapped around her head, a plaited tiara of sorts, and she was again every inch a princess, albeit a naked one. Vincenzo took his leave. Harp music started a few seconds afterwards. Petra came in from the other room, dressed in a chic, and quite modern, black dress that showed off her legs and her curves. She had several things on hangers over her shoulder. "I wasn't sure what you wanted, so I brought an assortment," she said without a trace of her previous irritation. "Dress slacks and jacket, the height of Amber fashion, something more modern... the colors will all work well on you." "Oh, and these," she added and held out a bra and panties set in matching pale blue lace. "I'm not certain I can wear these," Larissa said, in mock opprobrium, even as she stepped into the panties. "They haven't got hearts or cartoon cats on them. "Something in a gown would be preferable." Hanging everything on the door, Petra sorted out the appropriate garment of royal blue and held it ready. "I'll send your other things up to the castle after they've been cleaned." She eyed the gown then Larissa. "It needs pearls. There's a strand in the jewelry box on the vanity." "If it's any trouble, you needn't bother," said Larissa, voice muffled by the dress as she slid it over her head. "I expect I'll be seeing you later. Mandor asked that I make myself available for questioning. Hopefully, not as a cat." "Likely for Johann's show trial," Larissa said darkly. "You are not his target, but I very much doubt he would object to catching you with the shrapnel." "Well, then I won't have to worry about dating him, will I?" Petra asked dryly. "You think they'll get to the trial-such as it is-today? I would imagine Mandor would want him to suffer in the deepest bowels of the castle for a good, long time. Better for taunting." "Every hour Johann lives is an hour more someone has to plan a rescue attempt," Larissa said. "Mandor will have to fight the Star Chamber first, though. That should give Johann some time--unless Damien arranges an accident. Can Vikund be trusted to keep that from happening?" "Vikund has no great love for Johann," she admitted. "Family or not, and Johann has always labeled him a turncoat. But I do not believe Vikund would allow him to be murdered if he could stop it. He did ask for our doctor to accompany him to the castle, which gives me reason to believe he wants to keep him alive to at least stand trial." "I am curious as to who you think would try and break him out. His rashness has always been a threat to the subtle workings of those in Arden. I cannot help but think they won't have any problem leaving him in a cell for the time being." "Pattern users are a finite resource," Larissa said, adjusting Petra's pearls. "If Mandor intends to keep him alive, yes, Johann may end up with a few years alone to contemplate where his plan went wrong, but I don't forsee it. He can only be neutralized by death. With Vikund to wield against Damien, Mandor has no need of Johann. His life is a liability. Petra grimaced at the image of Vikund being used in that manner, but she could see the logic in it. Bloody politicians. "And Julian is many things, but subtle is not among them," she added, with a sidelong glance at Petra. Petra raised a questioning eyebrow at Larissa. "Indeed?" she asked lightly. "He is certainly less sledgehammer like then our misguided cousin. I believe Caine is actually the subtle one in that operation, and if my sources are to be believed - and they are -Caine thinks Johann a liability." "Johann is a liability," she said. "He's also an asset. Mandor doesn't have the window into Caine's motivations that you do," here Larissa left the obvious question as a mere quirk of the eyebrow, "and to decide whether Johann is more valuable alive or dead, he must gamble on probabilities--which must gall him, considering how such things are our province." Her eyebrow question was met with a smile that didn't really answer the question put to it, and then Petra winked. Larissa bent to retrieve her discarded dress, and fished a packet of familiar size and shape out of the pocket. "I believe Mandor's calculations in the matter will run as mine have--hence my conclusion that Johann hasn't long to live." Petra hummed thoughtfully. "Well, he certainly was in no hurry to keep him alive on the dock," she conceded. "I also find it hard to believe that a man as paranoid as Johann would trust anyone with all his secrets. Even someone they love: sad state of affairs that is, but such are the times we find ourselves in. I wonder not so much about Johann, as I wonder how long Damien has been working for Mandor, and how much of what we have seen and heard since the occupation started has been a lie. But I'm sure that question will get answered soon." "As a neutral third party," she smiled. "I have been asked to deliver a message to Arden. Since I am going that way, I wondered if you should like a message delivered to your sister?" "If you'd give her an honest account of what went on this morning, I'd appreciate it," Larissa said. "And feel free to use Whitecliff, should the need arise--in fact," she produced a scrap of paper and a ballpoint from the dress, as well, "give the this to the staff so that they'll actually believe you have my permission," she said, dashing off a note. "I imagined I would be giving that account anyway," Petra replied agreeably. While Larissa write her note, Petra opened a slim silver case enameled with a black and white swan facing each other with necks bowed. She pulled a card out of the back and offered it to Larissa in exchange for the note. The card back of the trump of Petra matched the case. "I am sure at some point, you will need this," said Petra. Larissa checked to confirm that it was indeed a Trump of Petra and added it to her deck. "Thank you. I'd best be on my way. I'll try to give you warning if it seems as though you'll be coming under fire." "Graci," Petra nodded and handed her a sketch of Castle Amber's courtyard. "Please let me know if there is any change in Merlin's condition. We're really rather fond of the man. He can be very endearing away from the public eye and the pressures his position puts on him." Larissa, already concentrating on the sketch, only nodded. Gradually, Petra's rooms became fuzzy and the pencil lines took on life, and she stepped through into the courtyard of the Castle. When the rainbow faded, she stood for several seconds, to allow the sentries to identify her, then strode into the Castle proper with an expression determined enough to deter any but the bravest. Appropriating the first empty room she came across, a sitting room that looked to the courtyard, Larissa jammed a chair under the doorknob, sat down in it, balancing a bit precariously, and removed her sister's Trump from her borrowed pocket. She concentrated. 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. "Trump for me," she said to Julian, and then accepted.
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