MorningCallsClaudio came awake again once the sun rose high enough to shine through the skylight at the north end of his flat. He blinked, sat up, and rubbed his face, wishing for coffee. That wasn't to be had without going outside, though, and he had an important Trump call to make first. The three or four hours' sleep he'd had would have to suffice for that. Afterwards, he'd reward himself with a full breakfast at his favorite café. He got up, limped over to the armoire (where his clothes still hung in a preternaturally clean and unwrinkled state), and shrugged into a dressing gown. Then he extracted his Trump case from the pocket of the coat he'd left hanging on a chair, and sat down at the small table. He sorted through his deck until he came to Irulan's card. Holding it in front of him, he concentrated on her image, at the same time taking care to shield the call from potential eavesdroppers. The image came to life. Claudio sensed a certain irritation -- but it was not clear whether it was directed at him, or something else. Behind her was a rich tapestry, characteristic of the most elite living quarters in aristocratic Ways. ^Yes?^ She was not speaking aloud -- this suggested a situation of some delicacy; to speak with him this way was both a privilege (for Claudio) -- and a danger (for Irulan -- for although she could shield her thoughts, a deeper degree of empathic reading was possible). ^It's Claudio, my lady^ he answered, in a similar mode -- part caution, part courtesy. ^Recent happenings in Amber...do you want the long version, the short version, or for me to call back later?^ ^Later may not be good,^ she said. ^Short version, please, and then I can decide what questions must be answered.^ She looked away to one side, and the sense of unease intensified. Then her attention was back on him. ^Very short, please.^ Claudio decided to concentrate on the current situation rather than give a recap of past events, no matter how recent. ^Merlin left Amber last night, for somewhere in Chaos I think, taking Delluth with him and leaving his cousin Morgan Deirdresson as Regent. Now Duke Helgram wants to meet with Morgan today at noon, at the Grove of the Unicorn.^ He made no attempt to disguise from Irulan how uneasy this made him. ^Oh,^ said Irulan. ^I think you'll find this Morgan a fellow of infinite resource. But meeting Duke Helgram ... is perhaps not a good idea. Especially not in the Grove of the Unicorn.^ ^That's what I thought,^ Claudio admitted. ^Should I try to do something about it, my lady?^ He wasn't sure what he'd be able to do, but he was willing to try. ^Have you met the Baroness Helgram?^ ^Briefly,^ said Claudio. ^She seems to be a somewhat troubled young woman, as well as a focus of ... well, several things. The last I saw of her, she was heading off with the Regent to try to quell the rioting in the city. Since as of this morning the place isn't burning down around our ears, I venture to guess she succeeded.^ Irulan's lips twisted. ^As long as she is finding something to keep her busy...^ She glanced to one side. ^Claudio -- unless there is something really urgent...^ ^I understand. I'll call you later... or you can call me.^ She said nothing more, her attention already moving away. Claudio passed his hand over the card to cut the connection. He sat and thought for a moment, then decided that breakfast was in order. At the café he'd also be able to get a sense of the mood of the city -- the Artists Quarter, anyway. He'd promised Delluth last night that he'd speak to Delluth's landlady and reassure her that the Doctor was not under arrest. That wouldn't take long. After that... Could he find his way to the Grove of the Unicorn by noon? He wondered. Still pondering, Claudio dressed in his usual, slightly bohemian style, slung his artist's satchel over his shoulder, then made his way down the outer staircase to the Rue Jardin. His favorite café was only about a block away. It was already full, with people who were excitedly discussing the events of last night -- including a group of students who included a couple of Chaosians, who Claudio knew by sight at least. There was also a young and beautiful woman, seated on her own at a table. Her clothing was slightly dusty and torn, as though she had had a somewhat strenuous night. She was sipping a cup of coffee but periodically she glanced up at the street, as though looking for someone. Claudio made his way toward the group of students, but he couldn't help taking notice of the young woman as he did so. In this setting her isolation made her stand out as much as anything else. Her clothing was rich, but bedraggled, and that was strange, for she looked like a woman who would take care with her appearance. He thought she looked like someone who, like him, had had an eventful night -- but without someplace to rest and recuperate in between. The students hailed Claudio. Barimens might be despised in Chaos to an extent, but here in Amber, he was a familiar face in a potentially hostile town. "What did you make of last night?" called Hanley Chanicut. "He may have slept through it all!" responded Bronwen Hattery (a minor branch of the Minobees). "Come and have a seat," said Hanley. "Have you tasted coffee in this place yet? An experience, I assure you!" "Often, often," Claudio assured them, coming over to the table and sliding into a chair. He signaled the waiter, then turned to Bronwen. "Slept through it? Not a bit of it," he announced to the table, leaning back in his seat in a self-satisfied manner. "As a matter of fact, I was on the Ramblin' Queen last night." There was a concerted gasp around the table. "But it's gone--sailed clean away!" said Hanley. "How did you get off?" Claudio gave the other Chaosian an indulgent smile while privately filing away this bit of news. "I'm a Trump artist," he reminded Hanley. "How do you think?" "And what were you doing on the Queen anyway?" asked Bronwen, her ears uncurling delicately from under her dark hair. Claudio was aware that this statement had caught the attention of the woman across the café too. He glanced at her again, sidelong, before turning a limpid gaze on Bronwen. "Oh, dinner, drinks ... the usual," he answered carelessly. "But after the fireworks display out on the bay, the pep seemed to go out of the evening, if you know what I mean. Anything else would have been ... anticlimactic." When the waiter arrived, Claudio ordered coffee, rolls, and an herbed omelet. He also took the opportunity to note what the woman across the way had on the table in front of her. The woman's attention had apparently returned to her food, as she was twirling her fork expertly in a tangled mound of spaghetti, weaving it into a tight knot. She didn't immediately eat it though, and it occurred to Claudio that she was more intent on listening than eating. But suddenly she looked up and stared along the street, startled. Nor was she alone ... other people had heard the drumming of hooves. And in a moment, cantering along the street (rather too fast for such a built up area) came the somewhat unexpected sight of Prince Chadwick, mounted on one of the Castle horses. The woman had risen to her feet, Claudio saw, and was moving to the interior of the café - perhaps to pay her bill; perhaps to avoid being seen. Chadwick turned the horse, directly pursuing the elusive woman until the people made it unsafe to do so. With practiced effort he launched himself over the head of the horse and landed smoothly on the stones before running after her on foot and into the café. As Chadwick entered the café, Claudio rose to his feet. "Prince Chadwick, I believe?" he said, plenty loud enough for Chadwick to hear him. It wasn't quite a challenge, but it was close. But Chadwick had already disappeared inside the café... Frowning, Claudio followed. This did not look good... Chadwick found the café full inside, but from the startled stares of patrons, the two waiters lamenting dropped trays (clearly once laden with steaming dishes) and the swinging doors, it was clear that the woman had bolted through to the kitchen. And, from the crash of dishes and the loud imprecations of chefs, she was making her way through that location rapidly. "Prince Chadwick," came a vaguely familiar voice from behind him. |
