The Fall of Amber: Larissa and IslainEven before they left their rooms that morning, both Larissa and Islain were aware of the changed atmosphere. There was an excitement even in the air, it seemed, a sudden sense of relief. Both were awakened by the heavy banging on the door, and then, unexpectedly, Gerard's voice booming out. "Breakfast! Come to breakfast!" The tone could only mean one thing. The news had come - and Amber had won. Larissa grumped happily at Gerard to let a body sleep, dammit, but bounced out of bed and into the nearest set of tunic and trousers. She threw her hair into what might have been a braid, and proceeded merrily down the hall to lie in wait at her sister's door. Islain immediately put down her ivory brush and, with the help of a maid, changed from her dressing gown into a fantastically brocaded morning dress of teal and pale yellow. She left her hair long, and merely slipped a large ring on her finger before gliding through the door and down the hallway toward the breakfast room. Her smile was beatific - a complete stranger might almost have called her angelic. If one were making celestial metaphors, Larissa was an angel who had misplaced her raiment and her dignity--but her smile made light of both. Seeing 'Rissa's matching smile, Islain's brightened for a moment and then died to a ghost of what it had been. She reached out and took her sister's arm as if Larissa were her escort, murmuring quietly, "We ought perhaps to be cautious in our show of happiness. Gerard's actions notwithstanding, it has been a hard few years and... well... I'd hate to see your hopes crushed." As she said that she continued to move in the direction of breakfast and Gerard, though keeping even with Larissa. "You couldn't let me be bubbly until we got to the table, at least?" Larissa asked, making a sour face at her sister and letting her get a few paces ahead. "And what about your hopes, sister mine?" she asked Islain's back, quietly enough that the other could have pretended not to hear it. Islain accepted the courtesy of walking ahead, smoothly removing her hand from her sister's arm. Larissa was one of few people Islain did not seem to mind having behind her. She did reply, just as quietly and since she was facing away it was even more difficult to catch: "I do not believe, alive or dead, Oberon will grant them," Islain whispered. Then she stopped, turned and spoke at a normal tone, pale green eyes catching her sister's blue. "I will settle for a victory." "I miss him too," Larissa told her. "Even if we did do more yelling than talking." Islain cocked her head slightly to one side and regarded Larissa, nodding almost imperceptibly. Larissa shrugged off seriousness. "So we'll hope for victory and make do with what we get. If there's one thing this family does, it's perservere." Larissa grinned, and gestured for her sister to precede her in to breakfast. "Not a single gloomy word to Uncle Gerard, then," Islain said, putting on an expression of content and curiosity much as another would put on a hat. Then, with a stunning smile and a facetious half-curtsy, Islain swept into the room, glancing around to see who else was invited. It seemed to be a small family breakfast. Damien waved a grapefruit spoon and smiled as the sisters entered. Islain raked her lower lip lightly with her teeth before her smile turned slightly sultry in his direction. "Damien," she said with a nod. She slid into a seat opposite him, poured herself a cup of coffee and instructed any nearby servants she would also like a mimosa. Damien wore a black wig which was styled appropriately for the current fashion trends along with a shirt whose slits and ruffles would have been quite festive if it weren't predominated by such somber colors. Although only the sporran and waist showed above the tabletop, he was wearing a kilt in blackwatch. As always, his eyes twinkled with promises of secrets. "Hi, Damien." Larissa sat and began eviscerating a grapefruit. "Where's Gerard?" Damien had already finished his grapefruit, and was working on peeling a blood orange with his small, sharp silver spoon. After sucking some of the juice from his index finger, he shrugged and said "I'm not sure. Maybe he's helping the kitchen with his breakfast... so they don't spill it like last time." Last time, of course, the weight of the hot silver platters piled high with food had overcome a junior kitchen staffer, and everyone had to wait for the kitchen to replace Gerard's... hardy... breakfast fare. "Here!" a booming voice proclaimed, and Gerard himself strode in. Largest of the family, he was also as powerfully good looking as he was good humoured. Some of his brothers spoke disdainfully of his intelligence, but they had perhaps lacked nous to see the shrewd look in Gerard's eyes. There were advantages to being seen as the fool of the family. "You've heard the news?" he said. "A victory - a great victory. But not without cost. Brand is dead - lost in the Abyss. But he took Deirdre with him." "I had not heard," Islain said, carefulling controlling her show of excitement to keep it appropriate for the final comment. "Poor Deirdre. But we've won. Oberon succeeded and we won." She rolled the sound of the words around in her head. Yes, a victory would do quite nicely. Gerard glanced at her sharply, and then at the other two. "Dierdre? ...Oh." Larissa looked down at her mauled grapefruit. "But..Chaos surrendered and everyone's coming home, right?" Damien's only response to the news was silence. He placed his food back onto the plate, and nodded slowly as he examined an empty crystal glass. Islain's attention was fixed on Gerard, eyes unblinking. "They'll be coming home, yes. Under our new King." He glanced at his nephew and nieces. "The horn of the unicorn decided it. She appeared at the Abyss with the jewel ... and offered it to Random." Islain's eyebrows rose. She hesitated an instant, half-expecting Gerard to burst into gales of laughter at her expression and add, "Just joking!" And yet there was something in the way he had been watching them earlier, something that suggested this was not about to happen. She drained the mimosa. "To Random," she repeated flatly. "Very well. When can we expect to greet our new monarch?" Damien smiled faintly, and nodded slowly as he came to accept what Gerard had said. Random's rule would certainly differ from that of Oberon, or Eric for that matter... but the unicorn had decided it. "I trust, then, that your siblings are in agreement with the Unicorn's decision, and Corwin shall not dispute the decision?" Damien asked Larissa and Islain, as much he did Gerard. Either did have some small right to claim the throne as Eric's daughters. "Are you kidding?" Larissa said. "Even now, I'm formulating elaborate and subtle plans to wrest the Crown from Random's hands. You'll help me, won't you, Gerard?" She poured herself some coffee. "Islain, I'll need help on the political front, too. Somebody pass the muffins and an ermine cloak." "They've sworn fealty to him on the edge of the Abyss," said Gerard. "I pledged him my support when we spoke by trump ... " Islain handed the plate of muffins over with a smile that did not quite make it to her eyes. She poured some more champagne into her glass and then filled three more. "We ought to be celebrating, my dears. There will be time for paranoia and worry later. Larissa has the right idea. Jokes and breakfast. And then I'll see if I can't whip up a celebration for the returning victors. Random still prefers the music of the shadows, I suppose..." Damien nodded, and seemed as if he was about to say something as soon as Gerard finished. As though echoing her words, there was a rolls of drums ... and then the blowing of many horns. Gerard lifted his head. "That's no drill ... that's the attack alarm!" "I thought you said we had won," Islain's pale eyes narrowed and her hands flexed reflexively. Damien's eyes widened, and he was off at a sprint without another word. He ran so swiftly that his wig was left in mid-air, though it soon succumbed to gravity and landed in his chair. Larissa blinked at where Damien used to be. "Uh, 'bye, Damien. Anyway, I'll get my kit." She tossed her napkin beside her plate and rose to leave. "Larissa!" There was a note of urgency in Gerard's voice. "You know how vulnerable we are. If I'm to go out and face any attack, I need you to hold the fort here in the Castle. Islain - what chance of drawing re-enforcements from Rebma?" "I will get what I can, but they will be unskilled in combat out of water, and their weapons will be fairly primitive. Our sorcerors are quite skilled and will be of more use. In the meantime, I have a - well, I suppose you could call them a personal guard. One hundred men, tops, but quite competent. I will call them to action as well. Can you push a contact through to Chaos and to Benedict?" Islain had already pulled out her own Trumps and was fishing through them for the one of her mother. There was a sudden loud CRUMP sound from a distant area of Amber. Gerard shook his head. "No time. I need to get what troop we have down there. It sounds like Corwin's Folly." He looked at his two nieces. "Just - do the best you can. As your Father would have done." Then he turned and hurried from the room. "Uncle--" Larissa said to his departing back. "Be careful," she finished, softly and sadly. Islain had located her mother's trump ... "I'm hopeless with Trumps, Islain," Larissa told her. "Could you try for Benedict or...Julian," she said, guessing at a Trump she supposed her sister would have "after you speak with Moire? I need to round up the Castle guard...though if whoever it is makes it this far, I don't know what I'm going to do about resisting a siege with all the troops that weren't considered good enough to go off to war." "If you walk past my apartments, tell Shanna - my maid - to send out the yellow roses. She'll know what it means. That'll give you somewhere in the vicinity of a hundred men and women - irregulars by all means but highly effective. They may not get to the walls in time to aid Gerard but at least they'll be able to help if the fighting gets further into the city." Islain smiled reassuringly at her sister. "Gerard will be fine, 'Rissa. And so will you," she added firmly. Then she turned her attention to the Trump and concentrated. "All right. I'm headed that way to pick up my sword, anyway. When they muster, I'll send a few to you." Larissa paused at the door. "Islain...if--if the day goes against us, just run for Rebma. You can meet up with our armies when they make it back." Larissa didn't wait for a response, and left the breakfast room at a run. Islain saw her mother's pale green features quicken into life, calm as ever through the water. "Islain?" Her expression was a little disdainful. "What do you want?" Still slightly distracted by Larissa's words before she departed, Islain chose to ignore her mother's coldness. It wouldn't be the first time. "Soldiers," she said briskly. "Any you can spare. Sorcerers too. Amber is being attacked again. Since our armies were victorious at Chaos and are on their way back now, it will be in your best interest. We can discuss recompense after we've secured our enemies." "Who is attacking?" asked her mother. "Do they represent a threat to Rebma?" "Not at the moment," Islain replied coolly. "But they may very well, if they are allowed to take Amber. One assumes, though based on only hearsay, that they are Chaosian, as were all the other attackers to Amber recently. Regardless, it will not be good for Rebma to see Amber in a weakened state. The disorder will be reflected below. Will you send me troops or won't you?" There was a long pause and then Moire said, quietly, "You may take refuge here, my daughter." Islain's expression did not change, but the color drained from her face. "Things will go badly," she said, equally quietly. "But I will remain here until no hope yet remains for my father's kin to keep my father's city. Perhaps we shall speak later of reasons. Good bye, Mother. I fear I will be calling you again soon." She passed her hand slowly over the card and stood for just a moment, shaking with rage. When she moved again it was with purpose and speed. In her rooms, in her closet, there was a secret compartment and an array of weapons. There was no time to change into more suitable fighting clothing, so she snatched up three different sets of knives - she already wore her pearl-handled dagger, simply due to habit. She took also the glass knives filled with acid, the steel ones edged in poison, and the set with the wicked waves and notches in the metal. Finally she lifted, strung and loaded a heavy crossbow and slipped the quiver of bolts over one shoulder. She had never stood to battle before, but she had killed many times. If the Chaosians made it to the Castle, they should be made to regret it.
|
