Goran: Recharging(Continued from Trouble Is Our Business- Goran and Tear)
Goran left the room Tear was in and retraced his steps to return to the throne room. He didn't know where the Regent had gotten off to, but the throne room was the most likely place for him to return, or to find someone who knew where he might be. Frankly, Goran didn't mind waiting. A moment of quiet would do him good. After telling the guards that he would like a word with the Regent upon his return, but not to bother tracking him down, Goran found an out-of-the-way bench next to an ancient suit of armor and sat down heavily. Leaning forward, he ran both hands through his hair and rested his head on his palms, eyes closed. Too much had happened today. He felt like a computer in one of his old shadow haunts, in need of a defrag. He breathed slowly and deeply, letting himself fall into a state of semi-consciousness. Gods, he was tired, but falling asleep outside the throne room was not an option. He allowed his mind to entertain an amusing image, however - that of a young red-haired boy, curled up asleep on a chair outside his grandfather's throne room. What would it have been like in those days, if he could have been here to meet the man that had held Order together for so long? Goran had never known the Amber of Old. He had heard the tales from his father on that long, amazing ride to claim his birthright, but he had never set foot in Amber proper until he arrived seven years ago, wondering if he was in the right spot. All he knew now was that Amber of Old was dead. There would be no fighting for it now, regardless of what the die-hards wished. They might as well be wishing on falling stars. All that could be saved now was what she had become - and what she could be, if those on both sides could come together. Goran chuckled ruefully. Optimism brought nothing but disappointment. He'd been hanging out with Tear too long. It was a time of peace and quiet. Very easy to doze ... especially when one was ti ... There was someone there. In the shadows, moving towards the throne room at a stealthy pace. His security guard senses now alert, Goran held his position of repose, keeping his breathing slow and level as he listened intently. He opened his eyes just a hair, using peripheral vision to try to make out who was approaching. There was a strange quality the footsteps ... the sound of bare feet. But not ... quite ... it was a sound he knew from his years in and around the docks ... the sound of wet bare feet. And there was the familiar tang of the ozone of the sea, mingled with a scent that was aloof and inviting at the same time ... Past him now, and still moving towards the throne room. Murmuring a word under his breath, Goran rises slowly and creeps forward silently, following the stealthy form at a distance. The figure continued to move, but although it was very close to silent, it was not difficult to follow - the odd scent, the tiny amount of water on the floor, and even the faint footsteps made for an easy trail. The figure - definitely a woman - a brief moment between shadows had almost outlined her - drew nearer to the throne room and suddenly stopped, perhaps ten feet from the door. She reached up gracefully and combed some water out of her hair. From his place in the shadows, Goran smiled, recognizing the dripping figure. With a silent gesture, he dismissed the cover that had concealed him and stepped into view. "Highness," he greeted her, bowing his head respectfully. When he looked up, however, his blue eyes met hers with less of the air of deference than when they had encountered each other previously. It was as if some inner pride had bubbled to the surface of the young man's features, and with it came a certain familiarity; a resemblance to someone Islain had met before. "You've been away," he stated matter-of-factly, in a voice both quiet and level. "Are you aware of what has happened in your absence?" Islain showed no sign of surprise at Goran's appearance. As she turned, he saw the comb disappear beneath a dark green mantle. She noted the changes in him and made no effort at subterfuge as yet. "I have not had time to be debriefed, so, no, I am unaware. Is Merlin in the castle?" "No, he was called away. Captain Morgan stands as Regent. The mob that we left in Five Corners made it to the castle, and were calmed ... or rather temporarily appeased ... by some speech Baroness Helgram gave them. Not sure how long our reprieve will last, though. I'm waiting for the Regent now," Goran explained. A flicker of interest lit her catlike eyes, though at which particular part of the briefing was difficult to say. "Unfortunately, my message is for Merlin, not simply for the Regent of Amber. I don't suppose you can tell me to where he was called away?" Not truly expecting such a gesture at this point, she added, "If not, perhaps you might bring me up to speed somewhere more congenial than the hallway, Goran." Goran's lips twitched in a mostly suppressed smirk, but his blue eyes sparkled mischievously. He bowed his head, deferring to her request. "As you wish, Highness. Please lead on. You, of course, know the castle much better than I." "Do I still?" Islain replied innocently. "Very well then. My quarters it is." She took a sharp left and led him back the way he'd come, then a little further east. The doors were locked, but she had some sort of key which opened them, and inside the rooms were lavishly appointed, mostly in deep blues and greens with furniture of carved ivory and adornments mostly of coral and mother-of-pearl. She had a fondness for paintings which depicted parts of Amber or the surrounding lands, and there was a portrait of Eric staring rather intensely from beside the bay windows. "Would you care for a drink?" she asked. "My bottles should only have improved with age? Much like myself, if I may be allowed a facetious moment." Goran began to wander the perimeter of the room, admiring the paintings with a hungry intensity. He chuckled at her comment. "I can't believe much improvement would be necessary, Highness. And yes, thank you. Whatever you're having will be fine." He moved on to stand before the portrait of Eric, regarding it almost as if sizing up a competitor while he waited for Islain. The compliment clearly pleased her, as it caused her to smile much more openly, merriment twinkling across her eyes. She slipped out of the dark robe, leaving it across the arms of a high-backed antique chair, as she moved to the sideboard and poured two glasses of red wine from a bottle whose label was musty and peeling but seemed recognizable as the crest on Bayle's Best. She had just come from Rebma - if the saltwater had not been clue enough, her attire would have been. To call the delicate folded fabric wrapped about her waist a skirt might be generous - there was only enough material for a scarf - shimmery with blues and turquoise and violet, like the ocean itself, and her damp hair lay in tendrils against the top of her bare back. She returned, extending one of the glasses to Goran. "Forgive my attire, there did not seem time to change, and I wouldn't like to make you wait." Goran took the glass and glanced the princess up and down, smirking appreciatively. "I see no reason to cover a work of art, Highness. I'm comfortable if you are." He sipped the wine and smiled. "Please forgive my distraction. Having been raised elsewhere, I've not had the pleasure of viewing such treasures," he commented, waving a hand toward the paintings adorning her walls. "But on to business. I don't know how much you know about last night's events. Shall I summarize from my perspective, or would you prefer to ask questions to simply fill in the blanks?" Islain shook her hair from her eyes and it cascaded back, tickling her shoulders, her collarbones, her neck. "A summary might be best, as I hardly know where to begin my questions. I do appreciate this very much." She settled herself on a divan, facing him, her legs curled up under her, and sipped her wine. It was, indeed, quite fine. "It is a terrible thing to find oneself behind the game." "So true," Goran replied, taking a seat in an overstuffed chair nearby. As he settled into the cushions, the velvet glow of the wine cradled his fatigue and he covered his mouth to hold back a yawn. "Forgive me, Highness. It's been a long night." He sighed. "Where to begin.... I suppose it's best to take it from the incident on the Ramblin' Queen. It happened while the dinner party was going on up here. A noble who arrived with one of our regular customers caused some trouble, threatening one of our girls with a knife. Security was able to subdue him without significant harm, and he was taken to Vincenzo's office for questioning." Goran made the assumption that all these names meant something to Islain. After all, there were few in Amber who did not know the Ramblin' Queen's chief of security. "When I searched him, I found a coin, or token hidden in his coat. Something metallic and cool to the touch. It was imprinted with the emblem of Helgram. When I examined it more closely, the gentleman grew agitated and then... it blew up. Not like an incendiary device but more like a sudden release of energy. The force was strong enough to throw me and another man up against the wall and set our heads spinning. We learned later that the force was felt all the way to the castle, particularly by those of close Chaosian descent." He paused here to allow the princess to ask questions or add her comments. "An espionage device, do you think, or an alarm? It did no great damage to the Queen?" Islain considered, letting her eyes focus on an unseen distance. "Do you believe it may have been connected to Duke Helgram's later attempt on the Tir Na Nog'th Pattern?" Goran cocked his head thoughtfully. "I didn't think about it at the time. Too busy. But you have a point. I can't see how they wouldn't be linked somehow. "Mandor showed up later and identified the device as an 'infernal,'" Goran continued. "Something that gives the wielder control over the person that carries it. When it blew up, it caused no major harm to the Queen. It was a concussive force, not an explosive one, so things shook but nothing caught fire. It did, however, reduce the nobleman to a stinking sack of tallow." Unconsciously, Goran grimaced at the memory. Islain nodded, considering this. "Is there anything else that might be important about the evening - or after I went to visit my mother? What induced Merlin to leave the castle and influenced his choice of Regent?" Goran thought back over his earlier conversations, rubbing his now-stubbly chin pensively. "I can only speculate, Highness, that he is off to retrieve the Prime Minister. He went off with Professor Delluth in haste, and to my knowledge, Delluth was the last one to see Mandor," Goran explained. He stopped short of adding 'alive' to the end of that sentence. "As for his choice of regent, Captain Morgan is his right hand, from what I've seen. I'm not surprised he would choose him to stand in his stead. "The most important part of the night though was that that mob we escaped in the streets came up the hill and demanded justice here at the castle. Baroness Helgram was able to quell them. Not sure how exactly. I didn't hear the speech. But from what she said later, she's to meet with their representatives tomorrow... er, today," Goran informed the princess, glancing out a window to see if the sun had indeed risen yet. The light, by now, was the pale grey that suggests the sun is lurking just below the horizon. Islain took a moment to absorb all of this information. The last part, about Baroness Helgram, actually elicited a physical response other than a nod and the faraway, dreamy expression that meant she was thinking - Islain's brows inched together and her jaw tightened a little. Then she smiled and rose. "Thank you, Goran. Now, shall we go and see Captain Morgan? It may be that we can be of some help to the Regent." (Thread joins So Where Is Chadwick, already in progress)
|
