Brennan's day thus far has seen a conversation with Ossian and Merlin at oh-dark-thirty; a long, stressful debriefing with Aisling and the Knights; a quick chat with Jerod; and a revelation filled lunch with his fellow Clarissi (and Reid.)
Business concluded, as far as he knows, his afternoon and evening are given over to more relaxing pursuits.
After lunch, he will check in on Cambina (to be handled when the GMs have time and Brennan isn't in NPC threads.)
In the late afternoon or early evening, however, he finds himself a quiet but public room with a few easy chairs, adequate lamps, and at least one table. With him he brings one book, and one chess set, hand carved from black and white stone. The book is a recommended tome on popular games of strategy in Amber, of which Chess is only one.
Brennan sets the chessboard up in a starting position, then moves the white king's pawn forward two spaces in a traditional opening. It's an open invitation to any of the Family who might want to pass the evening.
Paige enters no more than a few minutes later, being pointed in the correct direction by a steward down the hallway. No more than a step behind her is a man of average height. He's armed with a short blade, with well worn grips. His bearing is that of a warrior. Paige whispers a word or two to him and he responds with a nod after looking over the room from the doorway. He then takes up a place at the door.
[GM's call if you recognize him as one of Bleys's Altamarean Knights, Van, and Paige's newest bodyguard.]
She smiles at her cousin and while walking to the bar to fix a drink, she says, "Knight to F6."
As Paige pours, she asks, "Care for a drink?"
In response, he lifts a glass from beside his chair, out of the way of the chess table, but also out of Paige's sight. "Thanks, I'm covered."
He moves the knight as she dictates, and waits for her to sit down before pushing his queen's pawn to d3.
"And how was the rest of your day, cousin?"
"As busy as the beginning. Yours?" She pushes a pawn herself.
"Lunch was the end of my work day, not the beginning, thankfully."
He shakes his head, remembering the hectic pace from sunrise to noon. Happily, his headache seems to be gone, or at least reduced-- he no longer has the tension behind his eyes, or the slight furrow at his brow.
Brennan (W) Paige (B)
1. e4 N-f6
2. d3 c5
[Now we get to see how far my meagre chess skills have deteriorated.... Probably catastrophically, which is a shame, since Brennan should be much better than I am.]
[While this could be fun, Paige isn't ranked and neither am I. Perhaps adjudication by the GMs and a card flip?]
[The bigger problem is, I'm not ranked either, but Brennan probably should be. Card adjudication is fine by me.]
Brennan plays an aggressive game, although not insanely so. He's definitely played the game before, and definitely enjoys it. If they play enough games, it will become clear that Brennan's style, as such, employs gambits for position advantage... and he tries to create situations where the attack can come from any direction.
Paige plays an intuitive game. She's easily more reactive than Brennan, but once committed to an attack she presses it perhaps beyond it's usefulness. Once she susses out his style and gets a feel for his play and tells, well... we'll see how it goes then, but let us confine ourselves to this first match.
"So tell me," [Brennan] says, "Did Brand ever mention me to you?" he says, referencing their earlier conversation from lunch.
"No, we didn't speak much of family, and with the way Shadow time flows I can only assume that you were already gone. Ambrose says that he often remembered you, albeit bitterly," she says, her eyes watching him more than the board.
He doesn't have the same reaction he did over lunch, but, pushing a Bishop into an anchoring position at the side, Brennan says, "This thought does not displease me," with some small satisfaction.
Then: "Neither Bleys, Brand, nor Fiona ever mentioned any other children in the family. I interpretted that to mean that children of our generation were a rarity, then. For a while, I thought I might be unique, but there were no good ways to tell."
"I didn't know of cousins until Jerod and Cambina," Paige says. "Then there was Martin, and he came searching me out."
Brennan nods. "My first indication was when I saw the Black Road."
Paige's thoughts drift for a moment as she slides her Queen out agressively.
"Why do you hate him so?" she asks.
Brennan disdains the Queen and continues to build positional advantage, if he can. When he makes his move, he looks up with a puzzled, dubious look at his face. She might well have asked him why it's important for the sun to rise-- there are so many answers and they're all so obvious to him that his obvious interpretation would be that she's mocking him.
But he assumes she is not.
He settles on, "Because I was to play a central role in his plans in the destruction of Amber. I declined the honor comprehensively."
Brennan is still angry about this. It's an anger that's been part of him for long enough that it doesn't cloud his reason, it forms his reason. One might wonder if Dara or the High Marshall understand Brennan's capacity for holding and executing a grudge.
"I can't imagine," she says. "It's like I was taught by a different man. You were raised with that knowledge?" Paige asks, trying to anticipate his next step in building his defense and pre-empting it. "That he wanted your blood to obliterate the Pattern?"
"You were," Brennan says bluntly. He tries not to make it harshly. "I met your mentor once or twice, a few times. But I was conceived by the one that wanted blood, and I don't believe even your mentor could really see me in any other light. Not really."
Brennan looks for a move that serves to strengthen his own defense and threaten that extended Queen at the same time.
"And no, he never came out and told me. He failed to hide it, though. I was thirteen when it became clear. Fourteen by the time I couldn't deny it, had to deal with it, left. One of us had to go."
"So you left Uxmal and he turned to Martin? Or is Uxmal such a fast time Shadow that you were born after the attempt on Martin failed?"
"So I left Uxmal and he turned elsewhere. How did Bleys take it when he learned who was tutoring you?"
"I encountered him after I took my leave of my Aunt. She had taken charge of my Patternwalk and training. I didn't study too long and was anxious to begin my wanderjahr," Paige explains. "It was in Shadow, I really don't know where. Tropical and jungle like, I was sketching a fountain that was still working at the center of an old ruins and he appeared over my shoulder. He told me that I had talent and that he'd like to instruct me." She seems hesitant to continue her story. "Troublemaker didn't know until Brand started instructing me in Trump. He never complained."
"Training," Brennan muses. "That must have been nice. Brand tried to train me in the art of Trump once. Exactly once. No one enjoyed the process and it was not repeated."
Paige shrugs in answer.
Brennan lets it pass, too.
"Did you ever consider that your father had reasons for his actions, that perhaps it wouldn't have meant your life?" Paige asks quietly, pushing her Queen aggressively into the white pieces.
"Perhaps this Tir Project was behind it," she offers.
Brennan stares at her for a moment. "I was thirteen years old," he says carefully. "Of course I considered it. No thirteen year old boy, no matter how bad his family life, really wants to believe that his father is just keeping him alive until--
"It took me a little over a year to convince myself, and another season to prepare. Yes, Paige, I considered it. Then, and since. And if this Tir Project had something to do with it, well, there's just a little piece of irony for us all."
"I can't believe I misread him that horribly. They say love is blind, and while it was never that, it was a childish infatuation, which is close enough," Paige says.
"It's what tore my relationship with Martin, or at least was the beginning of the end."
Perhaps surprisingly, Brennan doesn't even seem angry, agitated, or upset with this. Puzzled, certainly, in a complex fashion at Paige's reaction, but not angry. Perhaps it's been too long a day to start an argument.
The puzzlement shows in his expression for a moment, but after a moment he makes his one permitted socially deft move (he hopes) of the day, and changes the subject a bit.
"So how, then, did he train you?"
"Long hours of study and practice of technique, followed by short respites of sleep, and interjected with abstract lessons on obscure themes and frequent trips to paint the measure of Shadow," Paige says. "He was a friend," _and a lover,_ "or at least acted the part well enough."
Brennan gives no indication of having caught the significance of that little pause. None whatever.
She continues to press the Queen's advantage, perhaps oblivious to how vulnerable it is also.
"It's still hard, and really you're the last person I should be complaining to," Paige offers by way of apology. "I suppose I'm a thirteen-year-old. Even now I don't want to believe that I could've judged him so wrong."
Brennan gives her a long look, decided between two tracks of response. He brings one out, with the option of bringing the other to bear at a later date.
"You still don't understand. There were two Brands."
"Before and After? Darkness and Light? Jekyll and Hyde?" Paige chuckles, though it has a hollow ring. "I could see schisms in his moods, but, I suppose I attributed it to an artist's temperment."
"Jeckyll and Hide, if I understand the reference," he says. But she's got him curious, "Tell me, then, what kind of schisms did you see?"
"Mood swings that I could never tie to anything I was aware of," she says. "Comments that I've only begun to understand."
Paige sees that this isn't the way she wanted this conversation to go. She got some of the answers she wished, why make it harder for both of them.
Well, Brennan hasn't attacked the Queen, yet, merely built a structure that can repel it at need, he hopes. He does raise an Oh-really eyebrow that she may recall if she wants to get back onto the subject, but he doesn't push it either.
"So Lilly said there was a meeting of the knight-Commanders this morning. Someone offer to second Aisling? Best guess is Jerod or Merle, if either are in town."
Brennan is baffled by the grammar on that one. "I assume you're telling me that Jerod or Merlin will be candidates for Martin's second, rather than recommending them for Aisling. At any rate, no."
Paige nods and blushes a bit at her tongue-tying.
Brennan pauses to frame his thoughts on the matter. "The subject did come up, yes, but Martin hasn't formally called her out, yet, and most of us have schedules hectic enough that we can't stay here waiting. I volunteered to go show my red ponytail in support of Fiona, for instance." He does not enumerate the rest.
Brennan sighs, sees that it is his move, and makes what looks like a for-the-hell-of-it probing move: Knight advancing, supported by Rook.
For the record, Brennan doesn't have any intention of losing this game, but there's no point in going for a speed mate, either. It's a social game, and if Paige makes an unwise rush forward on the board, Brennan will discreetely point it out rather than pounce on it immediately.
In other words, a social game.
[That's how it was done with me-- filing a hand across a bishop in the direction of a diagonal meant I should reconsider and pay attention to the piece they pointed out, because it was about to do something bad to me, for instance.]
Paige'll catch such hints, quickly, and play with a little more consideration. She appreciates the social qualities of the game and despite being something of a competitor, expected to lose.
Well, he hasn't attacked the queen, yet. I may be very much guilty of trying to be too clever here-- that was intended as one of those neat symbolic comments on the conversation using the metaphor of the board: Brennan's not in a head snapping mood, and would give warning if she trespeassed on something he really didn't want to talk about. Looking back, I think it was a lot less clear than I wanted.
"What is it, with those two?" Brennan asks, hoping for a little insight more on the personal side than the political.
"She pressed him at a bad moment and then called him a liar. He might not be a political creature, but he knows he's got to play the game," Paige explains. "I won't suggest that he doesn't lie, but she constantly makes rookie mistakes, like calling Martin one in public, that make me question how she was never made by our Uncles."
"And he called her a traitor in full court, is the emotional reaction," Brennan continues. "The smart thing to do would have been to let him strangle on his accusation, even if it took a few years. Rookie mistake, indeed. And you're probably not the only one with that thought."
Spread hands and a shrug, "I never claimed he was brilliant at playing the game."
"I meant Dame Aisling," Brennan clarifies, regarding the rookie mistake.
She watches the Knight but is wary of the Rook, and finally brings a Bishop to support her Queen.
The bishop is noted, but Brennan's pieces are questing after the rest of the structure, not just the Queen, looking at how they react to disturbance.
"But that's not what you're asking," she decides. "What are you fishing for?"
"If I knew for certain, I wouldn't have to fish, I'd bludgeon it out of one or both. For creative meanings of 'bludgeon,'" he allows. "It's like there's some bad blood, maybe misplaced, that I don't understand. You were here while this was all going down, right? You tell me-- am I nuts?"
"He's got a mad on for Chaos, specifically those elements involved in your father's plot. If it's more than that, I'm unsure." Paige pushes a pawn to support the initial Knight.
"The scar's more mental than physical by now. If I had to guess, there's history that I can't fill in. Perhaps it's from Martin's meeting of Merlin."
Brennan thinks that over, sliding mental pieces around in his head, even as the touring Knight slides into a central position on a diagonal supported by a fianchetto'd bishop. His eyes narrow in disbelief, whether of Martin or the picture those puzzle pieces are trying to form.
"Displaced vengeance? Dara betrayed him, so Aisling is guilty by association?" He shakes his head, and mutters something rude-sounding under his breath, looking for Paige to tell him, no, it's neither that simple nor that stupid. He's also got that characteristic inquisitive look of his, the one that says: Have you followed that chain all the way out?
"No matter what's behind it, he's convinced that it was information that Aisling provided to the enemy that allowed Dara, Cleph and Ambrose to crash the party last night," Paige explains. Her hand hovers above her own Knight before deciding on advancing another pawn. "He seemed upset with her prying about himself and the Queen, and I'm sure that Merlin's dislike doesn't help matters much."
Brennan blinks, in honest surprise.
"There's something about Martin and the Queen to pry about?" He almost sorts through everything he knows about the two of them. "What, did they know each other in Rebma?"
While she answers (if she answers) Brennan starts connecting dots into a picture that he doesn't like. He scowls, ever so slightly.
"While there is... ah... history, again my concentration on the game has made ruins of my grammar. My teachers did me no little injustice as a youth by neglecting it, or at least that's what I've been told," Paige shrugs.
"I was suggesting that Dame Aisling has investigated both, not neccesarily their history together. One assumes that if she's thorough she would've covered it also. Before you ask, it was never someting that he was willing to talk about. I can speculate, but that would be all it could be, speculation."
"I've noticed he doesn't tend to talk about his past," Brennan says. "That's an impulse I can respect, to a certain degree, so I haven't pushed it. Haven't had a reason to, though."
"He's been at his father's beck and call since the Returning, so I really haven't had the chance to speak to him over it. He's concerned with other things at the moment." _Like his d*ck._
Brennan's either not perceptive enough to pick that unvocalized comment up, or he's just ignoring it. Probably for the better, either way.
"Were you going to?"
"I would hope so. We're friends," she answers, sounding almost like she believes it.
She pushes a rook damn near the length of the board for no apparent reason.
"We did talk... enough... at the coronation," Paige fusses. "But that was before his confrontation with Aisling. He was coming down already and I don't know if he had another pick-me up before that all went down. Based on his actions, I doubt it."
"That's an interesting choice of words," he says.
Brennan sets up a bishop for sacrifice in pursuit of that rook, and for some clarity on the board.
"Some people drink, for those of our lineage sometimes something stronger is required," Paige smiles. "Seems such options are denied me for at least several months."
"Oh, smashing," Brennan says.
"As I said, I doubt it. He's not the one to get 'all coked up'," she answers, the last sounding as if quoted from somewhere.
Brennan appears skeptical, but lets it pass.
She ignores, avoids, or overlooks the bishop and tries to draw her Queen back, protectively.
The potential sacrifice is still there, but it was for the rook, not the queen.
"And if you're feeling overprotected now, wait until you meet Grandmother. Have a Trump of Amber with you, is my advice."
"You know her? Do tell..." She takes the bishop, feeling for his reaction.
When Paige takes the bishop, Brennan immediately makes the exchange and takes the rook, simplifying the board.
"In two words? Powerful and capricious. Not like Brand-- Brand had only two basic modes, while Clarissa is more... evenly spread, perhaps. And she was not unkind, most of the time. She probably won't be unkind to you, either. Intentionally. When she meets the bearer of her first ever great grandchildren, though, her kindness may be hard to tolerate. The rest of us are going to endure unending questions about our production. You may be... protected."
Paige takes a pawn with the Queen, obviously hoping to allow her Knight to eventually, threaten his own Rook.
"I've always known there was little more important than Family," she says, the capital clearly pronounced. "At least among our Grandmother's line, but you make it sound like some breeding experiment."
"Not intentionally," Brennan replies, "Although in this family, you never can tell." By the end of that statement, Brennan's voice has retreated unconsciouslly into that low rumble that implies, eventually, one of these centuries, Something Might Be Done About That if it's true.
"I'm not sure I plan on letting my children be looked at that way." Paige's tone has turned a bit gentler, more cultured and controlled, perhaps a conscious decision. "By anyone."
Having gotten her attention, Brennan looks her right in the eye. "Then be very, very careful in your dealings with her." He considers making an elaborate chess metaphor about the octaves of power between Paige, Bleys, and the Queen, but decides not to stretch things that far.
"Take your cues from Bleys and Fiona. I'm sure Bleys doesn't want to see you hampered as Brita has been." He holds the eye contact to make sure the message has been fully received.
As it is, Brennan has been thinking ahead, and the position gained in the rook-bishop exchange is probably commanding enough to stall her advance. He's had at least a little experience in diverting queens before.
Paige's pretty brow wrinkles a bit. "Do all the men of this family really regard us women as adle-brained little dolls?"
She presses the Rook without apparent concern for her Queen.
"I'd have given Conner similar advice," he says, punctuated by the sound of the rook clicking against the queen as he takes it, "had he come and asked me about her. He didn't."
More gently, "And you should know by now, in this family, the presumption runs down age lines as well as across gender. Believe me, there is no one else-- No One-- in the Family less eager to see your children used as a fresh set of pawns, other than you. So," in a mix of genuine concern and intentional parody of their elders that's so perfect it counts as self-mockery, "it's only because I care."
And he's said his piece about that.
She looks unhappily at the lost Queen, but doesn't complain, even to herself.
Again the tone is schooled, "I'll attempt to take such comments with that in mind."
"All I could possibly ask," Brennan says equitably.
A pawn threatens Brennan's Knight after Paige is done deliberating quietly.
Yes, but is it the knight that went ranging about earlier? Or the reserved knight hanging back to protect the rear?
The ranging Knight, other than the initial thrust with the Queen, Paige hasn't seen fit to attack his foundation.
Just checking.
"So, tell me about Lilly. What do you think of her?" Paige asks.
"Young. Very young. Which is not to be confused with stupid, because she is definitely not. She learns very fast."
Paige nods in agreement, studying the board.
"If I knew Benedict better, I'd make a comparison, but I don't. Even first hand, most of what I know of him, I know by observing his effects on others."
"An imposing figure, I must admit," Paige agrees. "Shrouded in legend, like so much of our elders. One supposes that our children will someday have this conversation about our generation."
Brennan suppresses what sounds like a good healthy chuckle over that one. "The mind scarcely has the courage to boggle," he says.
"What's humorous, the legends we'll create, or the concept of our children?" she asks rhetorically in a playfully feral tone.
"Yes, exactly."
[Paige OOC: Must not make pass!]
[Good idea....]
Back to the topic of Lilly, "She seems to recognize her short-comings and be more than willing to remedy them."
After a long sip from her glass she adds, "And perhaps someone should suggest that I'm not the one who should be teaching her court etiquette."
He doesn't suppress that chuckle, though. It comes out more as a snort than anything else. "Surely you don't mean me, do you? Oh, yes, I'd be a fine teacher for court etiquette... as long as you don't expect to be in court that much."
"No, but you're a member of the same order, she'd listen to you," Paige explains. "It's easier to be objective or critical about someone when you're not that person."
Brennan shrugs. "She's got a good head on her shoulders. If she asks, I'd be happy to give some advice. For the time being, though," Brennan moves the knight again, "There are others who need that advice far more.
"Besides, she's got a bad example or two to learn from, already."
Brennan concetrates on the board for a few moves, then, "Did you know Oberon?"
"Dinner, once. In Shadow, my best guess is that it was after he got free and before he returned in disguise. He was sending Martin on another mission and there was something special enough about it that he risked seeing me," Paige says. "I think it was after he knew Father had returned to the fold, or what ever it was that Troublemaker did.
"Grandfather thanked me for helping Martin find Father. It was like being kissed by a god. Scary and wonderful all at the same time."
Brennan raises an eyebrow when that timeline comes out, but he doesn't say anything. Instead, "I never even met him, myself. What was he like?"
"Like a storm, dark and rumbling with frightening moments and spectacular moments of beauty," Paige sums up before shrugging. "It was dinner, with light talk. He was a wonderful conversationalist, never giving away what Martin's mission was to be or what my father was doing. He ordered a beer that he never finished, a caesar salad for an appetizer and mushrooms with his steak. But the storm was in his eyes, and thunder in his voice."
"One of the greater regrets of my life is that he died before I could meet him-- really meet him, not just receive his Sending at the Abyss.
"Maybe I should have marched right into Amber, right into the Castle, and presented myself to him. But I was afraid he wouldn't let me Walk immediately." Brennan chuckles a bit. "Wouldn't that have been a shock to the court, though? I can picture Oberon many things, but I don't think I can picture him... surprised."
"No, me either. Even in conversation he normally seemed a step ahead of me," Paige remembers, sacrificing a bishop to capture the ranging knight, sure that Brennan allowed it, but not catching why.
"I suppose things would've been different had I approached Amber openly, too. I would've never met your Father, at least not as I did."
"He found you? Or did you seek him?"
"I didn't know him to seek him. He found me and we had been studying for some time before Father learned of it," Paige says. "I shudder to think that he was looking for family in Shadow."
Brennan nods, in somewhat ambiguous agreement. "A sobering thought, indeed," he says, and leaves it at that.
[Much as I have enjoyed this thread to death, I think Brennan's part of it is played out. Happy to continue if you've got anything Kris.]
[Agreed. Brennan beats her soundly, but is gracious enough that it's a learning process for Paige, not a humiliation. Paige is the model sportsman and after the game is done she excuses herself, as she's things to prepare for her trip. A kiss on the cheek (as long as he allows it) and a thank-you for an enjoyable evening. Sound like a suitable summary?]
Sounds just about right. And yes, Brennan is happy to receive the kiss on the cheek.
Last modified: 7 December 2003