Johann/Islain in ArdenAlthough dawn had passed, beneath the leaves the air was still heavy with dew drops which had yet to be burned off by the sun's direct attention. The smell of composting leaves, wood fires, and roasting meats were different than what the currents might carry in Rebma, and were wont to stir old memories in one who had been away from the surface for so long. There were strange sounds as well... birds disputing territory, or searching for like minded companionship, squirrels playing games of tag through the branches, and all of the sounds of Julian's men going about their business nearby. There was also a rythmic thudding which Islain couldn't quite place. Johann stood in a small clearing, away from the main camp. He wore only a sheen of sweat and a pair of cutoff blue cotton pants with brass rivets, with the rest of his clothing and weapons spread out over a folded green cloak a short distance away. He stood before a live tree with a smooth trunk for perhaps the first six feet of its height. It was perhaps two feet in diameter, and clearly a hardwood. He stood before it, right leg forward, and repeatedly launched punches and kicks, elbows and knee strikes at the trunk at full force. Although the trunk was quite thick, Islain could see even the uppermost branches quiver in response to his blows. It now became clear why this tree had smooth bark... it seemed Johann had been at this for some time. Islain, drawn by the unusual sound, had glided toward the clearing and now stood watching. A tiny smile raised the corners of her full lips almost imperceptibly. One alabaster hand reached above her head and the long fingernails toyed with a golden-green leaf. Her expression was that of someone watching a particularly entertaining show. She was wearing a fairly simple travelling dress that nonetheless seemed decadent by Arden's standards, of heavy green brocade with golden trim. Her long curls had been twisted back from her face and only a strand hung loose on the left side, teasing the line of her jaw. The neckline was high and the hem was low, the dress was not even particularly tight, and yet something in the cut hinted in such a way that a few rangers had actually followed her a little way to watch her. Not long after Islain entered the clearing, Johann sensed that she was there. Perhaps it was some sixth sense, or an errant scent caught on the wind, but he looked over his shoulder without breaking his rythm and looked at her for a long moment. His eyes dwelled where she might have concealed a weapon, which was not so very different from the looks other men gave her, and then he returned his eyes to what he was doing. "I will only be a moment," Slam. "Your highness," Slam. "I didn't," Slam. "Expect you," Slam. "Of all people" Slam. "Did you not?" she said lazily, almost a vocal caress. Her voice was astonishingly low. "No matter. By all means, continue. I am in no rush and actually quite enjoy the show." Whether he truncated his routine despite her protests, or was genuinely nearing the end, he struck the tree perhaps twenty more times, then moved to the towel beside his waiting clothing and gear, which he used to brush bits of bark and flecks of blood from his arms as he approached. She could see a patchwork of yellow older bruises underneath the new redness and much fresher black and blue marks over his well-cut body. This rainbow patchwork was coated in a thin sheen of sweat, which pasted his blond hair to the back of his neck and hung from his chin before he toweled it off. His gaze was confident, and in spite of his dishevelled appearance, he had no hesitation in meeting Islain's own green eyes with his blue. "Has Mandor persuaded Moire to send so pretty an assass'n as her Islain for Johann Payne?" he asked with a lopsided grin and an emphasis on the 'n's. There was a barely perceptible narrowing of her eyes when he said his own name. Perhaps, while Islain was familiar with the name, she had not known what to expect of the man who used it. Her own Rebman accent was minimal, a slight hiss of 's' and mellifluous 'l's and 'r's. "Neither my mother or I have any reason to wish you dead, Master Payne. In point of fact, I am a great admirer of your writings. I had heard you were in Arden, but not that you enjoyed beating up trees." "Ah, I see you've heard of me, but that you didn't recognize me? My fault, for spending so many years as an Anonymous. As for the tree... it gives worse than it gets. I was always told that the pen is mightier than the sword, it wasn't doing me much good... so rather than see Amber go out from under me, I decided on escalating to direct poltical action. Which can be frustrating... which is as good an explanation for the tree routine as any, although also good practice," he said as his grin first became wooden, then returned to life. "You were, if I do my math correctly, very young when I left Amber. My contacts have offered me descriptions, but little else of value to distinguish you. Now that you speak, it is a different story." Islain shrugged and glanced around. "Suppose we get some wine and chat a bit more comfortably? Alcohol is an excellent anaesthetic and Julian has offered me the run of his camp and the use of his finest. I would consider you one of the latter, and I do need to be caught up to speed on the running of things here." Johann nodded, and with a surprisingly well executed courtly flourish, motioned that she should follow him. He gathered up his tack in his cloak, and led the way to a canvas tent which bore his symbol on the flap. Inside, there were a few stools, a small writing desk, a cot, a large trunk, a small folding table, and one comfortable wicker chair before the desk. He turned this around, and motioned for her to have a seat, still silent and smiling. All of the gear here looked as though it could be folded up or discarded at a moment's notice. "I think it is likely I've got an appropriate bottle tucked away..." he said with a wink as he produced first a pewter goblet and a carved lowball shaped cup made from a bull's horn. Next came a bottle of red wine, which he uncorked and left to breathe on the folding table, and a squarish bottle with only the glue to show for the label which had once graced its front which was half-full of a brownish liquid. From the smell, as he poured, it was apparent that this was whiskey. "I'm not sure how much detail you want from me... in large part, you may have the same from me as you could get in a tavern in Amber. Julian pushes forward, inch by inch, every year," Johann said as he held up his fingers so that thumb and index finger were parted by only that span. "That is his strategy... his tactics, too, you can imagine well on your own. Men with bows. Hit and run tactics... we're not going to come riding over the hill and liberate Amber tomorrow," Johann said with a cautionary frown as he carefully poured Islain a glass without stirring up any sediment from the bottom of the bottle. "You'll find it fine, if you have a taste for strong reds... it may need to breathe a while longer," Johann commented before taking his first smoky sip. Islain swirled the wine around the glass and inhaled before sipping. Then she smiled. "Quite fine," she agreed. "But I was rather more interested in long-term plans. I'll ask him about his own. But you, Master Payne - or do you prefer Lord Johann - or Johann? - What have you sought in Arden?" "Johann will be fine," Johann said. He actually winced slightly when she called him 'Lord Johann'. "I had hoped to accelerate Julian's timetable... I am concerned with the," here he made a grasping gesture with his free hand, and paused to take another sip while he tried to find the right word. "Spirit of Amber. At the present pace, Julian and Caine may, will, retake the City... but what Amber will they find? It'll be a half-chaosian thing, and they'll be forced to hold their own bicentennial pomgrom just to return to what you and I might consider normalcy. We do not have time to wait for the 'golden moment.'" "You are, unfortunately, quite right." Islain sipped her wine again. "The alternative, however, is less sure than you may imagine. Our list of allies is quite thin, Johann, and Mandor's power fairly immense. Do you not think Julian would have rode into Amber in force if he thought we could retake the city? His information will be as good as it can be, due to his alliance with Caine. My hopes, for the moment, lie more with undermining the status quo - with those, like you at one time, who fomented discontent in Amber." She let out a low laugh. "That is what I did, in Rebma, while pretending to be as neutral as Mother. That is part of why she decided to send me to Julian." Another drink, this one deeper. "I do not know what to do here. I am not a fighter." Johann shrugged. "Amberites in the city need a hero... can you make Julian a hero, to the people in the city?" Islain considered that for a moment before answering. "My inclination is to say that you would do a better job of it than I, but perhaps I might still have means at my disposal. My lack of popularity at court never extended far beyond the gates of the wealthy, after all. While any closeness on my part may hurt Julian's standing with the nobility, it may even aid him with regard to the populace, especially those old enough to remember my father's reign, or the Chaosite invasion. Johann listened carefully while Islain spoke, and although he looked as though he had something to say in response to her question of who between them was more suited, he continued taking a sip of whiskey and motioned politely enough with his empty hand that she should finish. "Julian also makes such a thing remarkably easy. He *is* a heroic figure - always standing in defense of Amber, almost a Robin Hood at times. He is handsome and strong and defines the knightly virtues. Propaganda should be simple. All we have to do is leak certain stories to the right people or the right presses." "That isn't quite what I meant... he is certainly a heroic, larger than life, figure... all of the Elders are. Mandor is, from a certain point of view... though Mandor and Caine wear the villain much better," Johann said as he sat up. From his tone, he had a certain professional interest in the thematics of this conflict, as his more serious writings would suggest. "Is Julian the hero of the citizens of Amber right now... or the villain? Do his actions help the man in the street there, or make his life more difficult... and, more importantly, how does that man view such things?," Johann asked rhetorically as he punctuated his question with a sip which took precisely too little time for Islain to reply. "Inch by inch, slowly pushing out from Arden, blocking land travel... I could, I have, framed that in terms citizens might gravitate towards. Boys in the field with a super-human general, fighting for their eventual liberty after which everything will be better... But they are not some conquered people, now, they're moving on to become some kind of bastard miscegenated thing, which identifies more with Merlin and Mandor... and the illusion of stability they provide... than hostile military forces and Caine bumping around in the night like some bogey man. What I'm asking is... can you persuade Julian to direct his tactics in a manner more in keeping with our political... as well as military... aspirations?" Johann asked, then finished his whiskey while she replied. Islain drained her own wine as he was speaking, and held out the glass for whiskey or wine as he saw fit. She seemed to be considering his words, nodding gently. He refilled her glass with more of the Arden wine, showing a smooth pour and flourish which belied his slouched posture and crude surroundings. Finally she said, "What are our political aspirations, Johann? What do you have in mind? I do not undervalue my connection to our uncle, but on the other hand, most men consider they must be fools to trust me. I have two hundred years' reputation as a bitch. I'm sure that fact does not elude you. Julian seems to like me anyway. So what am I going to ask him to do? Focus his energies on larger, more grand assaults, whether doomed to failure or not?" Johann shrugged. "I don't. Trust you, I mean. That doesn't mean I can't work with you. We've only one cous' I'm willing to trust, and even then... not completely. I would like a grand assault... I would like to accelerate the timetable, as I feel every day we wait gives Mandor more time to secure his position. As soon as he feels Julian is a genuine threat, he'll increase the assassination attempts. If they could kill Gerard..." Johann said, leaving it hanging there. "That was... slightly different," Islain said, but did not elaborate. "But that is't what I'm asking for. I've managed to alienate Julian in my years here... pushed too hard too many times for something he's considered and rejected. What I'm talking about is... the citizens of the city must see some immediate benefit from Julian's campaign, more than promises in the distant future." "You see, I think, the difficulty," he said as he refilled his glass. "Nothing... springs to mind." "You mean he needs to be Robin Hood, not simply have the backdrop," Islain sipped her wine again as she thought about that. "It will take some planning. It would be easier if we were also attempting to make Mandor and Merlin into evil tyrant and brainless lapdog, respectively. The people of Amber, like most great nations, will no doubt prefer a strong and ruthless king to a weak and sissy one. They are the greatest kingdom in the universe after all. Memories and odes to Oberon might help - comparing Merlin to Oberon unfavorably. "Then Julian can step up and be the hero." "Yes. I will be travelling to Amber, not immediately, but soon enough. Once I've returned... I believe I can clarify the kind of stability Amber currently enjoys," Johann said with a mean little smile, very different from the one he had worn earlier. "Excellent." Islain returned the smile somewhat dreamily, her eyes drowsy but somehow sharp. "And I shall work on how to make Julian the hero of the people, and ... subtly... when the time is right... accelerate our attack. Now, beyond business - which of our cousins did you say you trusted?" She laughed almost silently, not expecting the question to be answered. "Ah, you've caught me... I've denied that I trusted you, so now I can't flatter you. Perhaps I'll tell you another time, though..." he said as he saluted her with his cup. He distinctly did not say 'after I can trust you,' but the words hung in the air anyway. "And even then," he said as his face grew more serious, "I only half trust them." "And that is wise and prudent," said Islain. "If you had told me that you trusted me, I should immediately have either deduced you were lying to me and had difficulties in our future negotiations, or else, if I believed you, broken off planning with you due to your obvious naivete. But you can trust me this far: I want the Chaosians out of Amber." Johann nodded, and showed her his incisors as he smiled. Suddenly her face smoothed and a moody look troubled her full lips. "Do you still speak to Damien?" "I... am tempted to say 'out of bounds,' but... you can't have helped but hear of the rumors... that he was my father, brother, or lover," Johann said as he took a sip of whiskey without tasting it. He also left out the suggestion that Damien might be more than one at once. "We've not since I came here, though that's unintentional," he finally said a few moments later. "Out of bounds? You've experienced the rumor-mongers of Amber," Islain laughed. "I only asked because I knew Damien before you were an adult and it has been a long time since we conversed at all. I wondered what his current goals and alliances might be. Father, brother, or lover, eh...?" She leaned her head back so her curls tickled her shoulderblades. "That sounds like the way they usually quantify those of us of the Blood. I'll try to keep my guesses to myself." "I believe... Damien's interested in money and survival, like Flora and Bleys. But he is the one who taught me Amber's history... he is another 'seeker for the golden moment,' Johann said meditatively, and sipped. "He mentioned a bit of that day... he regrets he left before explaining why," Johann added a moment later. He had moved to a topic without as much emotional weight to it, if his tone was any indication. Now, he was merely factual. "There was a why?" Islain shrugged again. "I was offered the chance to run to Rebma and when things went bad I took it. I had assumed it was the same with Damien, though obviously not Rebma to which he gravitated. I stayed as long as I dared, but living as a lapdog to the people who killed my father is a bit beyond even my degree of coldness." "Yes. Me," Johann said matter of factly. His slightly narrowed eyes, and slightly flared nostrils said something else, however. ~You truly are a bitch,~ he thought. "Damien has always protected me, helped me... we had a falling out over him trying to protect me. This is something I can prevail upon when I return to Amber... but do not think to try to use me against him," Johann added with a very small smile. "I think you misunderstand me," Islain said, noting his change of expression and setting down her glass. "I have no ill will toward Damien for anything he has done since the Fall of Amber. We all must survive. If he has done things he finds distasteful to protect one he loves, I have all the more respect for the man. I do not wish to use you - or to use him - but he could be a strong ally, if he were willing to work with us, particularly because he has worked with the Chaosians before." "No, I don't think I've misunderstood. Just a gratis cautionary comment. I agree... he may help _me_," he said with an emphasis on the last word. "But to try to manipulate him would be foolish," Johann said with a shrug and his same curious small smile. "We should... speak of happier things. Aunt Llewella is well?" Johann asked innocently. Islain sighed slowly, tangling her fingers in her dark curls for warmth. "Aunt Llewella is quite well, hale and hearty and straightforward as ever. And I have been too straightforward as well, I imagine. I won't be making a friend today, will I?" "Not today... but not an enemy either," Johann said with a shrug and a frank look. "I want to like you, but even if I already hated you... that does not mean we can't work towards the same ends. We both hate them so much more, after all..." "Oh, Johann," Islain tsked, taking out a small flat cigarette case, removing a dark, slim cigarette, and lighting it with a tiny silver lighter. "I don't hate anyone. I haven't felt so much in quite a long time. But that does not lessen my resolve to remove them from power. Perhaps if you thought of me as a weapon of the revolution, rather than as a revolutionary, it might help you understand." Johann opened a flap in the roof of his tent to vent the smoke, and shrugged. "That is Damien's view... people as objects. You'd have better luck befriending him than I," he said as he finished his whiskey. "I tried that ninety years ago," Islain admits with a smile. "I found him then almost as attractive as I find you now. A pity if certain rumors are correct." "But... I think I can tell when someone is faking it. I wager there're strong feelings somewhere underneath those petticoats," Johann said with a raised eyebrow and matching smirk. "And a very intriguing location for you to place my feelings," she said, suddenly laughing, a deep throaty sound. Johann raised an eyebrow. "Being my lover is a rather poor way to become my friend, though if you're just fishing for confirmation or refutation of the rumor...," he said before shrugging noncomitally. "Damien wouldn't wish to f-ck you so he could still kill you. I've separated emotional and sexual relationships, and as he'd say... 'I think you should prefer to remain the former, rather than the latter, where Johann is concerned,'" Johann said with a quite good imitation of Damien's inflection and word choice. Islain looked down at her crossed legs under the travelling skirt, and then back up to Johann, her pale eyes seeming to flicker between the long dark lashes. "You are the one who mentioned my undergarments," she said mildly, sipping her wine. "But that mimicry was quite good." Johann's eyes remained level on her own as they inspected her own legs, then looked back up to meet his gaze. "We each have our embarassing rumors... some of yours are clever plagarisms of me, actually," Johann said with a smile and a twinkle in his eye. "And not so clever," Islain agreed. "Do you see your own body as a tool?" Johann asked as he cocked his head to one side. "Of course." Islain rose and resettled herself nearer to Johann, taking his wrist gently in her hands and turning it over so that the bruises along his arm were more visible. "You use your instrument in perhaps a different way than I, but we both play to our strengths." "Ah, but your 'strength' is beauty. If the maestro sculpts a hammer, it is not a tool..." he said as he delicately brushed her jawline with the index finger of his other hand, pausing only briefly when he found the imperfection of an old injury not yet completely healed. Islain's breath caught as his fingers teased that spot, but her smile remained distant and yet breath-taking. "But we... are both sculptor and sculpture. To pretend that your body is some puppet, separate from a mind which lives in a princess' tower, locked away from your heart..." he said as his fingertip slid down her neck to her shoulder, tracing a little pink line with his nail against her skin which quickly faded back to alabaster as the pressure passed. "Sad," he concluded. "I do not pretend so," she said, reaching up and covering his hand with her own. The fingertips were cool. "I merely stated that to think in such a way might aid your understanding. Of course the weapon is controlled by me as well. I have long outgrown the time when I might be wielded by another. But I... can keep my goals and my passions separate, is perhaps what I meant to say. Personal is not the same as important." "But this is a family grudge, and a just cause... what could be more > personal than that? Damien once asked me... what I would be willing to > give up to achieve my aims. He seemed disapointed when I said 'my life, > everything,'... he didn't approve," Johann said with a shrug. She laughed. "And he was quite right, of course. You ought to start with someone else's life, and move on up to your own." Johann laughed as well, but softly, and he shook his head while he did so. Islain's face smoothed and she regarded him intensely. "But in all seriousness, is there nothing you would not sacrifice for your goals? There are things... I would not do..." "Likewise, but... I wonder if he meant 'that is not enough, for what you wish,' instead of 'that is too much?' Perhaps that is why he just counts his coins and waits... he feels the price too high?" Johann asked speculatively. "I do not quite see how 'everything' can be too little. What else could you sacrifice for your goals besides 'everything'?" Islain seemed genuinely interested in this answer. "Everything of mine... everything I own. I don't to give up all decency, but would sacrifice other's respect for me. I'm willing to see Amber and her people harmed to save it, if need be, for my larger aim," Johann explained as if this was perfectly straightforward from what he'd said. "I see," Islain nodded and sipped her wine again. Her eyes were hooded now and it seemed she was thinking of something else. After a moment she shook herself and smiled. "And here in Arden? You've had no luck in turning Julian to your viewpoint?" "A radically advanced timetable, or updated and coordinated propaganda effort? No..." Johann said as he offered to refill her glass. Islain extended her arm to facilitate his offer and considered. "I shall do what is in my power. He and I have always got on in the past, but we have also been known to disagree as to order of operations." Johann nodded. "Shall we finish our drinks, and conclude our meeting by finding you a tent and the like?" he asked calmly. "Drinks, of course, and perhaps some more casual talk," Islain agreed. "I am sure Julian has already made preparations for my lodging and comfort, at least insofar as that is possible in a military camp. But perhaps we could tour it and you might offer me suggestions on who to speak to if I need further comforts." Johann nodded, and changed the topic to Remban poetry, and then to the specific soil, sun and grape harvesting in winemaking which gave this particular Arden Red its bouquet. He compared both to traditions he had observed in shadow, including visiting the Bourbon region of shadow earth and hearing comedy in the original ancient greek. He was happy to show her around camp as well.
|
