"Certainly," says Lucas obligingly, taking the cards and beginning to sort them with the ease of someone who whiled away a couple of rather profitable decades as a gambler on the Mississippi. He doesn't appear to study the cards at all - a gentleman doesn't - or at least, only enough to find the Castle trump. But the skills that won the Saucy Sue (a rather nice paddle steamer) from Mad Dog McCluskey? might ensure that he has some idea of which cards Benedict holds in his pack.
If he finds it strange that Benedict has appeared so suddenly when he was previously proving so elusive, and is now bent on heading off without even stopping to greet the King, Lucas does not show it.
"I'd be delighted to accompany you," he says as he sorts the cards. "As long as I can return here in time from the King's formal court tomorrow, and I don't think that should be too much of a problem."
He holds out the trump pack to Benedict, the Castle trump now on top.
"I doubt," he adds, "that anyone will even notice I've gone."
"Really? Well, we'll test that theory then." He concentrates on the card in Lucas' hand, and after a moment, reaches for the young noble's free hand. For a moment, Lucas is blinded by the intensity of Amber's sun, low and golden in the sky. It contrasts starkly with the ruddy glow from the pattern Chamber of Xanadu.
Benedict waves to the guards. "Here we are. If you will excuse me, Lucas?"
"Of course, Sir."
If Lucas is disappointed in being dismissed so rapidly and before he can see what his uncle is up to on this visit to Amber, he conceals it admirably. He does pause for a moment to see in which direction his uncle is headed. Then he makes his way to his own rooms rapidly, with quick, light steps.
He makes his way into his study at once, not pausing to see the children or Solace first - the children, he can hear, are busy with another music lesson. Definitely, he thinks, they will have a house of their own in Xanadu - one with long (if well-travelled) corridors and a nursery wing. In the study, he rings the bell by the fireplace that will summon Gaston, and occupies the time while he waits by going to his bookshelves and selecting several volumes from the section devoted to the beauties of architecture. He seems to be selecting an ecclectic mixture - Palladio and Le Corbusier, Norman Foster and Robert Adams, a volume of plates showing buildings by Frank Lloyd Wright, and a large volume on Chateaux of the Loire. Another book catches his eye on the shelf and, after a moment's consideration, he slides it out too. One of the volumes his investigation into the Hardwind estate and the Paresh turned up. He has a feeling Solange might be interested.
By the time this has been assembled, Gaston is in the room (or if he isn't, Lucas is docking his wages).
"Ah, good," says Lucas. "Gaston, I need to see Paige. Perhaps you will ask her to join me and Solace for a drink after supper. Inform her that it concerns a little sea trip she was hoping to make. And tell Gouter I shan't require a large meal; some cheese and fruit should be sufficient. Erm ... a soft unpausterised cheese, I think, and a sliver of blue cheese. Some figs - and some muscat grapes ... no, not muscat. And a wine that is almost green in its crispness, redolent of orchards - apple orchards, that is, not pear."
Matters concerning his stomach having been arranged to his satisfaction, Lucas presses on. "We shall shortly be upping sticks and leaving, Gaston. I want you to ready the staff, and tell them to commence preparations. Our living conditions may, for a while, be primitive. I shall expect you all to rise to the challenges, as ever. However, this is to be done with discretion. I will not have my wife or the children disturbed."
He draws a sheet of notepaper towards him and writes something briefly. A pause, and then he writes a second note. Both are folded and sealed - a blob of sealing wax and then the St Cyr signet ring pressed firmly into the malleable red wax.
"See these delivered to Prudenter and M'mselle Silken. Do not confuse the two or my social life could become rather too interesting even for moi. Is Madame la Marquise in her room?"
Lucas enjoys surprising Solace.
Gaston has been taking notes, at least mentally, throughout the conversation, nodding at appropriate points and taking the notes from Lucas once they're sealed. He starts to speak, but before he can do more than utter the first word of his answer, Lucas hears Solace's voice.
"Gaston? Who's there?" Her voice is somewhat shaky.
Then there is a tap and a shuffling step, and another.
Gaston murmurs in a low voice to Lucas, "Madam la Marquise asked for your cane to be brought to her this evening. She hoped to take a perambulation in the gardens this evening, but I am afraid she will not be able to." He waits for Lucas' orders to reply to Solace.
Lucas looks sharply at Gaston. "How long has Madame been using a came?" he says in a low voice.
Gaston says in an equally quiet voice, "M'sieur, she has called for it on occasion since her first falling fit. Regularly since the second, when she is well enough to walk." He looks at Lucas mournfully.
Then he forestalls Gaston's actions (but not his reponse, which he listens to first) by opening the door to see Solace herself standing in the corridor outside. A second is all he will have to observe before she realises who it is and puts on her best assumption of wellness, if that is what she has been doing. But Lucas wishes to judge quite how ill his wife really is.
Lucas can see that Solace is pale and trembling slightly as the door flies open. She gasps and drops the cane when the door flies open. It falls with a clatter to the floor, and Solace totters for a moment before righting herself. "Oh, Lucas!" she gasps. "You startled me! I thought you wouldn't be back for a day or two."
She smiles, straightens, and extends her arms to him a gesture which, in addition to demonstrating her wifely affection, would allow her to lean on Lucas for balance if he accepts the embrace. "I'm pleased you came home, though. How was your trip?"
He takes her in his arms, but is feeling how much she needs to lean on him. Lightly he says, "Interrupted. I ran into Benedict who was watching his daughter walk the Pattern. I have to go back shortly though - want to come and see where our new home will be?"
All the while he is assessing something he fears he has ignored for too long - his wife's state of health.
Solace leans against him, but she seems to need him as much as a balance point as to hold her weight. She's trembling a little. It's almost as if her sense of balance is failing her somehow. There are circles under her eyes, as if she's been sleeping poorly, and his first impression that she was pale holds up under a closer examination.
Her voice is valiantly happy, though, as she replies to his question. "Oh, that would be lovely. But who will watch the children? Shall I send for Mother?"
Lucas kisses her on the tip of her nose. "No," he says. "We shall not be gone long. Nanny and Gaston will watch them while we're away. But I want you to choose where our home is to be built. I fear our first resdient will be rather crude - although we have a couple of rooms in the Castle. You'll like the Castle, ma chere. All modern conveniences. And with any luck, our petit chateau will have them too."
He is speaking as much to soothe and relax her as to convey information - but he is remembering Martin's suggestion that those in danger should be moved somewhere safe. He thinks he can see another reason, now.
"Really? What kinds of conveniences?" Solace asks. "Tell me all about the castle."
Lucas answers all her questions patiently, but when she puases to draw breath, he asks gently, but firmly, "Solace, what did the doctor say to you when she examined you?"
"She said that I should rest and get better. That it wasn't clear why I'd fainted. That she was consulting with Gerard about it." Solace sounds confused, and a little troubled by the tenor of the question.
Lucas kisses her gently on the forehead.
"Perhaps we should both consult with Gerard again," he suggests. "He'll be in Xanadu. I don't like to see you so wan ... but perhaps Xanadu will put colour in your cheeks ... You'll like the waterfall."
"It sounds very lovely, Lucas. I'll have my maid pack a few things for me," Solace says.
A discreet tap at the door and a cough draws Lucas' attention. He quirks an eyebrow at Gaston.
"My Lady Paige," responds the retainer.
Lucas nods.
"Speak to Nanny about preparing the children," he tells Solace. "I'll see if I can find an easy way back to Xanadu - but rest first. I'll probably be a little time."
Paige arrives, sans twins. She's dressed casually in jeans and a loose top with low neckline. Merlin can see that she's still carrying some weight from the pregnancy.
Merlin is dressed in black, and smells faintly of turpentine, which he has not deigned to disguise with cologne.
"Merle," she greets with a kiss. "There's not many of us still in the old homestead, eh?"
"There are still a few. I have heard that our kinswoman Brita remains, and the Queen. Some of the others will return from Xanadu within a few days, I am sure."
He draws Paige into the chamber he has chosen for dinner: a small sitting room decorated in deep green and heavy wooden panelling, lit by candles in crystalline fixtures. Paige recalls its use as a study early during the Regency. A round table with two chairs and two high-chairs sits in the center of the room.
"I had thought you might bring the children with you, and had arranged for their dinners as well. I see the extra places will not be needed," Merlin explains.
"How thoughtful," Paige replies. "I'm still uncertain how to move in social circles with them and how my cousins will take to their presence, so I thought it best to leave them with Winter and Eve.
Merlin nods gravely.
"Since they're settled already, it seems silly to bother them," she decides. "Unless you were looking forward to seeing them," Paige adds with an almost hopeful tone. "I could send for them, I suppose."
"Are they old enough to profit from the discussion of esoteric matters yet?" Merlin asks. "If we are to speak of their father, perhaps it would be wisest to leave them where they are."
He pulls out a chair for Paige.
Paige sits and smiles at him. "I doubt that they'd contribute much to the discussion and I have no idea how they'd react to discussions of Adonis."
"One hopes, by making childlike noises and not understanding what they say," Merlin opines as he moves to take his own seat.
"Hell, to be honest, Merle, I've no idea how I'll react to speaking about him," she admits. "Can I assume that you've some word on the firelillies?"
"Yes. I have spoken with both Brennan and with the King about them. It appears that Jovian sent them to the King for safekeeping after his discussion with you," Merlin explains.
Paige shakes her head and sips at a glass of water before her. "If I wasn't in such a good mood, I think I'd be angry with cousin Jovian. Safekeeping? Like I'm some addle-brained girl with a crush on his brother that doesn't grasp the dangers inherent to the relationship.
"So, what did Brennan and Martin's father have to say?" she asks.
"I had already spoken to Brennan before the King summoned me. I think we had agreed to disagree about the wisdom, if not the necessity, of the examination."
Paige nods in acceptance.
"The King asked me my opinions about the flowers, and I told him I would have to examine them to have any. I explained my interest and yours in the matter, and evaluated the risks of the examination as best I could for him, and he agreed to allow me to perform it. I do not think he shares Sir Jovian's poor opinion of either your judgement or mine, for what it is worth," Merlin says.
"That's good to know," Paige says evenly, at odds with the fire that's been lit in her eyes. Merlin has seen her like this before. She seems excited and anxious, all at the same time, about where this conversation is going.
"So, have you had the time to look them over? Could they be used as a focus for sorcery, specifically as a link to Adonis?" she asks, fighting down the excitement.
"Yes, the King asked me to examine them. I determined that they were no immediate threat, and a fine focus for sorcery. I believe they could be used as a link to either of their progenitors, but in particular they seem attuned to Adonis. In fact, I was able to use them to scry on him while Brennan was talking to the King. He appears to be well enough, although he has a travelling companion who seems to be injured."
Merlin leans down and picks up a folio, which he hands to Paige. It has two drawings in it: one of Adonis, and one of a man she doesn't recognize.
[OOC: If she gets a look at Luke later, she'll recognize him from the drawing.]
Paige looks over the drawings, searching for something in Adonis, recognizing Leif, but not finding whatever it was. "Either of their progenitors? Then they could be a danger to Lilly as well, if someone has such intent and the appropriate skill?"
"Did you get a sense of where he was traveling?" she asks.
"In Arden, somewhere. It was ... Disorderly, but I believe he was travelling in this general direction based on my observations and the working of the ritual," Merlin says. Paige feels that the explanation of why he decided this would be a long lecture.
"I do believe the flowers could be used as a link to Lilly, although less reliably than as a link to Adonis. The King has heard my comments on the matter, and when Dame Lilly returns I will also express them to her."
"Arden, not Arcadia?" she asks, knowing that to her a tree is a tree, even in the great wood, especially when those borders aren't as clear as they once were.
Merlin nods, but Paige feels he's not entirely certain which wood Adonis was in, either.
"Well, I suppose I'll just have to postpone Trumping to Xanadu.
"It'd be silly of me to leave when I've been looking forward to speaking with him," she accepts, some how not sounding as happy as she should be with getting her way.
"You wouldn't have a Trump or Sketch of your father to hand, would you? I'd like to be better informed when Adonis arrives, and I think he might have insights that would be invaluable."
"As it happens, I do. But let us eat dinner first, so that you can talk business on a full stomach."
Dinner is brought in and Paige and Merlin speak of inconsequential things for a while: family gossip, the progress of the Trump Merlin is working on, the recent accomplishments of Paige's children. Afterwards, Merlin brings out his deck and hands Corwin's card to Paige.
Paige thanks him and takes a moment to clear her mind as if she were casting the Fortunes herself before turning the card face up as concentrating on it's figure. Willing the dark lashes to blink, the clothes to change...
"Your Majesty, I apologize if my timing is poor," she projects even before she feels the contact...
Corwin comes into Paige's view. He is in a luxurious sitting room-cum-office that Paige would describe as decorated in Second Empire style. He is dressed soberly in black and silver, with a starched white shirt. It takes him a moment for his attention to focus on the contact.
"Paige?" Corwin says, sounding not so much startled as curious. "Your timing is fine. What can I do for you?"
"I do suppose that we don't have the kind of relationship that occasions me to call just to inquire about the state of your health and the growing pains of Paris," she says with a smile.
"I was hoping you could help educate me on my twins'... how to put it?" she muses. "Their ethnic background, perhaps?"
"I find my instruction on Arcadia lacking, and since one Warden is currently occupied, I thought the previous might serve," she explains.
Corwin nods, and Paige has the sense of mild relief through the contact, as if he was expecting another answer to his question that Paige didn't give. "What in particular about their ethnic background? They're of the Arcadian line; while I can't say for sure, we all suspect that Finndo is the father of the goddesses of Arcadia. And their mother is a dragon."
While Corwin is speaking, there is a knock at the door. Merlin goes to answer it.
Paige keeps her attention on her contact, but listens for cues, concerned for the twins.
From the sound of the voice speaking with Merlin, she suspects it is Lucas' manservant, Gaston. She cannot make out what they are saying, but nothing in the tones or volume suggests urgency.
"All new information to me," Paige answers. "They developed at an advanced rate, aging three months or so everytime our shifting changed seasons. Could something other than their aging be tied to the seasons? Is it a common thing among natives or have you ever heard of it before?
"I know very little of godding about the Shadows. What power does Arcadia hold that it influences beyond it's Shadow? Just its higher proportion of Royal Blood?"
"Local gods act according to their nature," Corwin says. "The Arcadian goddesses get their nature both from Finndo, who I am told was headstrong, and from their mother the Dragon. I don't know all the powers they have at their command, but speeding or slowing growth according to the seasons is well within the portfolio of abilities I might imagine in a child of that line. I don't think the Dragon is of our bloodline, but it's powerful and, in its own way, real. It couldn't bring the kind of power it has to bear otherwise. Don't trifle with it, Paige. It's a creature to be reckoned with."
"I don't know how far my children are to this war, Uncle," Paige admits. "Right now, I have no idea what would I could do to bother such an entity, nor do I know how to stay out of its way. Hence this Trump call," she explains.
"Since I'm at a loss for questions, perhaps you'd have some suggestions?" she hedges. "Do you know what place my children should have there, or why they seem so important to Artemis?"
"I don't know enough about the current situation in Arden to do more than speculate. There seems to be some sort of binding agreement, confirmed in Julian's union with Artemis as embodied in Adonis, but that's a guess. The children could be a further element of the binding." Corwin shakes his head. "I don't know enough to say for sure."
Merlin finishes his conversation with Gaston and returns to the table.
"Along the lines of 'the borders lie here' or something of the like?" she asks in reference to the alleged agreement.
Corwin takes a moment to answer. "It could be the borders, or it could be a personal binding. The dragon has been very quiet for a long time now. Or it could be both."
She nods.
"Any specific rules I need to keep in mind from your experiences?" Paige asks.
"Stay the hell away from the dragon. The Pattern is your best protection from it. Consider removing the children somewhere with a Pattern for their safety and yours."
"It's been suggested by both their Grandfathers," Paige admits.
"No matter what happens, thank you for everything, Your Majestic Uncleness," she says with a wink.
"You're welcome. And if you find yourself in need of a place for yourself and your children, Paris welcomes you. Merlin's friends will always have a place here."
"A gracious offer. Thank-you, sincerely," she answers a genuine smile on her lips. "I haven't made any decisions as to Xanadu yet, but your offer does seem attractive.
"Do you have any word for Merlin? He is here with me, as this is his card." Turning so that Merlin is within her periferal vision, "Or you for your father?"
Merlin joins in the contact and briefly exchanges greetings and family news with his father: word of Celina, recent visitors and arrivals in Paris, and other such things.
"Again, thank-you, Uncle. Good evening," she says passing her hand over the card.
Her face is contemplative. "More of the same," she shares. "Get someplace safe and don't trifle with the Arcadians. And a bit new, implying shared lineage back to one of Uncle Benedict's brothers, I think, and a Power of shadow. The Dragon."
Breaking from her momentary reverie she takes a drink and asks, "So, may I inquire to Gaston's message? Has my Saint Virile returned?"
Merlin looks mildly confused, but answers, "Our cousin Lucas is here, if that is whom you mean. He asks that you join him for a drink after dinner."
"A long time ago, when I first met Lucas, he introduced himself as Lucas St Cyr, and based on circumstances, the nickname suited him," Paige explains.
"If you'll excuse me then, I'd like to look in on the twins before he gets a hold of me," she says rising from the table. She kisses Merlin on the cheek and with his approval will take her leave.
Merlin bids her farewell and sends her on her way.
She can hear Hope and Phillipe's evening practice nearing to an end as Gaston admits her to Lucas's rooms. She finds a seat and makes herself comfortable as she waits for him to arrive.
"Bon soir, cousin," says Lucas as he enters. He moves at once to her, and she can tell at once that he seems a little preoccupied, even if the politeness of his greeting hadn't given it away.
His outfit is 80s rockstar chic - jeans that look as though they've been sprayed on, Gucci loafers, a red v-necked cashmere sweater but the long red cashmere scarf and big boxy white jacket with padded shoulders have been left in Xanadu. However, his hair is still casually tousled - one suspects it might have taken several hours to get it looking so, and an industrial amount of gel to keep it looking that way after climbing all over the potential city in Xanadu.
He lifts her hand to his lips and, as he lowers it again, his face relaxes into a smile.
Paige chuckles slightly, but not at him.
"You'll like Xanadu," he says. "Are you still looking for a ship to take you there?"
"I'm not sure. I think so, but Paris just put an offer on the table," she comments.
Lucas' eyebrows lift slightly, and then he smiles. "Ahhhh, Corwin," he murmurs. "He seems to be in a collecting mood ... Maman has also received an invitation."
"Have suitable arrangements to help me make the move?" she asks.
Lucas shoots her a slightly enigmatic look. "It ... might be arranged," he says. "We could take a little walk to the harbour, if you like. I always feel it looks so nice in the twilight ...
"It's a little bit more than a little walk, but I've a Trump of Merlin to hand that should facilitate a return," Paige offers. "Or we could take a walk on the mountain and I could procure a spyglass so you might still sample the sights without the smells," she counters.
Lucas smiles. "But the aromas are a part of the experience," he protests. "All the senses ... fully engaged. You know the importance of that, don't you?"
She nods in surrender.
"Paige - have you noticed any change in Solace since your return?"
"To be honest, I've only seen her about a few times. She seems to have been keeping to your rooms. Is she unwell?"
"I believe so," says Lucas slowly. "I believe I will ask Gerard to examine her again. Have you met the new cousin who claims doctorly skills? I had hopes that Solace might feel more at ease with a woman but our cousin seemed more intent on displaying a somewhat prurient interest in my sex life ... it may well be that poor Solace felt unable to be fully open with her." There is a fainst frown between his brows still - he seems disturbed - an unusual thing for Lucas who prides himself on his urbane demeanour.
"Hannah? Why she and I got along remarkably well," Paige offers. "I doubt she was truly interested in your sex life. I think she's just curious how Amberite breeding goes. Look at me and Adonis for example. Other than the Regent's legs, I'd bet that the majority of questions she's had to discuss is sex, at least with this family," she chuckles.
"And you're implying that there's something more to Solace's illness than her not being healthy enough to carry another St. Virile heir," Paige says. "Let's take your walk and you can explain."
Lucas nods his agreement and - once Lucas has written a swift note and dispatched the page Pert with it, and they have settled the vexing question of which outer garment Lucas will wear for an evening stroll (a rather nice trenchcoat in an unusual shade of French navy, which Lucas feels sets off his eyes rather well), they set out to walk down Kolvir.
With Lucas's permission, they'll stop by her rooms so that she can explain to Mace that she's taking a walk and that both Couth and he are responisble for the children. Paige also tells Eve and Winter the same. She finds a cape that covers the Tonkin kiem at her belt slides her arm in her cousin's as they walk.
Lucas is quite agreeable about this diversion.
"You could always pop the children into our nursery," he suggests. "Hope is enchanted by the twins. And soon, they'll be old enough to play with her!"
"I appreciate the offer, but I'd not want to endanger your children, too," she explains. "If given my druthers they'd be safe in Xanadu or Paris already, but I'm loathe to leave them too far away and their father is expected soon."
"Really?" says Lucas. "What a shame I'm taking Solace away to Xanadu. I'm sure she's just longing to meet a potent fertility god.
"Talking of which, do you have trumps of any of the Xanadu crowd? I need to pop back for an important meeting. Y'know, if I'm going to start doing this shuttling diplomat thing, I really do need to acquire a couple of trumps of my own. I don't even have Maman's - on the other hand that would be too like giving her the opportunity to say that I never call."
"Troublemaker and Martin are both in residence I believe," she says. "Although I'll be needing one or the other soon enough myself. When you need to go, let me know and I'll arrange it."
"Martin's, if I may," said Lucas, casting a swift sideways look at her. "I'll return it when I catch up with you in Xanadu. As for leaving ... I'm hoping to go as soon as we get back to the Castle. I've told Solace to prepare. Xanadu time moves a little faster than Amber's, and I want to be in time to attend the Court. That necessitates seeing Solace settled, and donning appropriate apparel - neither of which, of course, can be rushed.
"I must see whether our King will consider the possibility of a funicular in Xanadu," says Lucas thoughtfully. "It shouldn't be out of the question - and could improve life immeasurably. And think of all the fun opportunities for accidents and struggles on the carriage tops too. I shall suggest it as useful for Gerard, but I think I might throw in a reference to Where Eagles Dare - do you remember the evening we saw that together in your apartment? When you emptied a bowl of buttered popcorn over my head when you found out I'd taken your latest amour to a bath-house? Those chinos were never the same again."
"Whose? Yours or mine?" she chuckles in remembrance.
"I can only speak for mine," says Lucas. "Still, it did give me the excuse to visit the laundromat. I always found it an excellent place to pull."
She shakes her head incredulously.
Lucas laughs. "Don't tell me you've never been tempted by hanging around for an hour with nothing to do, and the smell of fresh laundry everywhere.
"As for Solace ... To some extent I'm hoping she'll recover strength in Xanadu. It does, after all, have a fully functioning Pattern - I saw Lilly walk it a few hours ago, Not that I propose Solace would ever assay the Pattern. But it does have a positive effect - or so it's reputed to have."
He speaks lightly, but Paige knows Lucas well enough to guess that only a very real concern would have driven him to discuss this so openly.
"That collection of phrases is a mess for even your European phrasing, my love," Paige objects.
Lucas' response is a particularly Gallic shrug.
"First, Lilly's taken the Pattern and she's fine?" When he acknowledges that, she moves on, looking relieved.
"As far as I could judge," says Lucas. "I imagine she requested the Pattern to send her somewhere with a bed and clean sheets. Her new room, probably, unless she is curled up in her room here in Amber."
"Second, such a suggestion would imply that Solace has the ability to complete such a walk. And that's the explanation to Trump questions last week," she decides. "Any thing else you wish to hit me over the head with?"
"Always you tempt me," Lucas murmurs. "But no ... I shall refrain."
[If I remember right, it's 45 minutes by horse, Castle to docks. A walk's going to take us near 2 watches one way.]
Paige will walk the entire way if Lucas seems determined, but she mentions that she has her carriage in the stables that can be readied quick enough. She can drive if he wants privacy and if walking is important, they can park it at her townhouse or the Prince and walk the rest of the way.
Lucas is always perfectly willing to drive at leisure rather than walk. He sees no need to put themselves to the trouble of driving themselves - unless Paige really wishes to drive, they can take a coachman or groom to drive - his own man Cheval, if she likes.
When they reach the dock area, Lucas doesn't make his way to any of the regular shipping offices. Instead he takes a side alley that, eventually, leads to some small and neat marine cottages (the kind where respectable chandlers might make their homes). He knicks on the door, and a rather small, apple-cheeked woman answers it, greeting Lucas and Paige with a bobbed curtsey, but with no sign of surprise. She leads them through the house to a little and airy room at the back, which is angled to provide a view over the harbour - not as spectacular as the one the castle provides, but nonetheless most attractive.
"May I fetch you anything, my Lord?" she asks.
Lucas glances at Paige. "Would you like anything? My contact should be here shortly."
"Wine if you have it and it's no problem," she answers directly to the woman.
Lucas waves a negligent hand to indicate that this would be acceptable to him too. The woman drops another bobbed curtsey and bustles away.
"And what will we be discussing with your contact?"
Lucas' dark eyebrows arch. "I thought you wanted a ship," he says.
"True enough," Paige admits. "While Family counts for many things, you were always one to find your own way in the world."
Lucas smiles faintly. "It's a habit I acquired early," he says. "I'd say Maman ensured I'd acquire it, but ... I believe that some things are beyond even her control."
"Can't blame a girl for wanting to do the same," she chuckles.
"Oh, I think you've usually done very well for yourself," says Lucas. "In material terms at least."
He seems about to say something more, but their hostess bustles back in, carrying a large tray. It contains not only three glasses and a bottle of wine - a hearty, rustic red, as the straw covering of its rounded bottled implies, but also four plates - three bare, the other containing an assortment of thin slices of cheese, olives, green grapes and a puddle of fine olive oil to dip the squares of coarse country bred into. Lucas looks over this preparation and, finding it good, gives a nod. The woman beams again, and whisks away, leaving them alone - the third glass and plate, it seems, are in anticipation of their company.
"Shall I pour?" Lucas asks. "This is not a wine that needs to breathe - it needs to gulp. And be gulped in turn, of course."
Paige smiles. "Not that we've ever drank such wines in excess," she chuckles. "Remember the Doors show, when was it? Late '68? We finished off near two cases of that dreadful red and at least two bags of smoke."
"Golden brown," says Lucas reminescently, as he fills two glasses. "The name of the wine I have mercifully forgotten. And then we went drove down to Monterey through the dawn with that rather gorgeous young man - do you remember his name? I think he went on to be something in movies later on ... but then he was just enormously pretty. And vice versa, if I recall. And we splashed through the surf ... all before anyone was awake, I think. You were wearing that green dress of yours ... the one with the fringed skirt."
Lucas, of course, always remembers what people wore.
"I've still got the dress. I think it's in storage in Heerat, at Maria's," she says with a smile. She tosses back the red and her train of thought passes a few stations before stopping.
"That reminds me. I'm not going to be able to loan you Martin's Trump," she says. "I'll gladly contact him and hand you through if he's receptive, but... I'd feel better if I kept hold of that card. It was the first made of him after... Well, you know."
She looks at her empty glass. "You shouldn't get me on that topic. I should've known he trusted me, just by that. But sometimes I don't see what's right in front of me." Paige gives Lucas a little sigh and shakes her head.
Lucas reaches out and lays one slender hand over Paige's - a rare physical gesture. His hand rests on hers for a moment, without his saying anything.
Her whole face softens, and the smile she's offered most of the evening fills her eyes. He doesn't have to say anything.
Then he reaches for the bottle with his other hand and pours them both a second drink.
"Very well," he says. "But if you are opening a conduit, we may as well use your father's card. Fewer questions, and all that."
Paige nods and recovers her glass.
He raises his full glass. "Let's drink to sea and sun and wide open beaches, wide open bars and wide open ... well. To pleasure, Paige, wherever we may find it."
"Pleasure I can find where I need it, Lucas," she says with a smile. "It's the responsibility that's killing me.
"As to where we might find it," she begins with a mischevious sparkle in her eye, only to be interrupted.
Lucas smiles ruefully. "Doesn't responsibility come in much the same shape for both of us, Paige? Small people, with a readiness to open their mouths and wail, matched only by their readiness to open the other end and ... yes, well. I must confess, I am looking forward to the age of childish candour and the ability to ask disconcerting questions. Hope seems to possess an almost preternatural circumspection, which I suspect marks her bloodgift from her paternal grandmother, but I have hopes of Phillippe and your brats." He takes a long sip of the wine. "Ah, Paige, of all the Family, who would have wagered odds on you and I slouching into Xanadu trailing clouds of domesticity?"
A woman opens the door. "I see you've started on the after-dinner drinks without me, Lord Lucas. Good evening Lady Sommers." From some women even welcoming words such as this would be said coldly. Opal Hardwind is just such a woman.
"Mistress Hardwind," Paige replies noticably warmer.
Lucas smiles with slightly feline amusement. "Madame Hardwind," he says. "I'm glad you can join us. Perhaps you are hopeful that our consumption of alcohol might have loosened our tongues and unsteadied our heads before we set ourselves to talking business. I fear such is not the case, although the wine is certainly ... robust. May I offer you a glass, or shall I call for tea?"
He awaits her answer (and the accompanying business of pouring, sipping, or sending out if necessary) before continuing smoothly, "Actually, my cousin and I are interested in making you a business proposition. Two, in fact. In pursuance of our ... ah ... mutual objectives."
He is watching her closely.
She smiles, utterly insincerely. "I'm always open to business propositions. Most businesses, anyway, if they hold the promise of profit." She looks at Paige and then back at Lucas. "What business do you wish to engage in that I might be interested in?"
Paige defers to Lucas with a slight tilt of her head and eyes that say it's Lucas's game, he should have the first move.
"Actually," says Lucas, "I'm interested in two pieces of business. One is the purchase - or possibly the loan - of a ship. It needs to be a steady vessel, capable of speed, but not too light in the water. Its crew should be experienced and stalwart, preferably honest and hopefully a fair proportion of them aesthetically pleasing. Its appointments should be ... luxurious. Its cargo will be precious indeed.
"My second ... well, you might see the first as a spur towards it.
"The King is about to undertake an ambitious new venture. He is looking for people he can work with - and one of his requirements will be for a merchant fleet of experience and trusted skill; people who will get the job done well, efficiently and to time. Who will be rewarded appropriately. And I had the strangest fancy that you might be interested."
"Your fancy may be accurate, Lord Lucas. Certainly such a ship could be found. Given the lack of recent passenger traffic, it may not be immediately luxurious. How soon do you need it?"
Lucas glances at Paige. and an open handed gesture invites her to speak.
"Soon, I'd think," Paige answers. "The exact timing is something I hope to have a better grasp on over the next week, but no sooner than two weeks I'd think."
"Which should," says Lucas, "Give you every oppportunity to translate the state into luxurious."
"And can you say more about the royal needs and rewards. Surely you know by now that I," she says, stretching the last word significantly longer than it deserves, "would not buy a pig in a poke."
Lucas' smile is his most lizard like.
"And surely you know by now that I would never dream of selling one." Whatever mileage she got out of the word, Lucas takes it there, then up the ramp, onto the freeway, and heads for Route 66 with it ...
Paige just watches the interplay, sort of like watching a carraige accident. It's horrible and she knows that a proper lady would avert her eyes from the carnage that's about to ensue, but she just can't draw herself from it.
"Excellent. Then show me your pig and I shall consider it. Or, if you prefer, I could provide you what you need for my own price to be named later, if you wish to buy my pig in my poke."
"The wise," says Lucas, "set value on information above rubies. The foolish set value in base copper. And I know that you, Madame Hardwind, are a singularly wise woman." A glance at her asserts that Lucas finds her not only wise, but something more. "Some more (tea or wine)?"
[I'm presuming she's sipping something for the sake of The Deal?]
[OOC: She drinks, because it is expected of men of business. It's why she smokes cigars...]
[OOC - Lucas will have left a little box of cafe creme cigars on a side table. He likes sharing a cigarillo with a beautiful woman after ... ah ... a business discussion.]
He certainly pours more wine for himself - and glances, with a raised eyebrow, at Paige to see if she wants more.
Paige hasn't finished the last and makes no move toward Lucas with the glass.
"To whom should the rewards be given? To the most worthy. From our dealings, Madame, I have come to believe that you don't just passively deserve rewards dropped from the purse of a provident princeling. You prove yourself worthy of them by your own endeavours again and again and again. A woman fighting in a world - a man's world. It ... ah .... excites my admiration.
"As I have said, we have two deals on the table here. The ship - for which you will name a fair price - and it will be paid. And my information, for which ... the price is a simple one. I will give you the means to a new fortune, to business opportunities beyond your dreams and ... the chance to attain the thing that you desire above all others.
"And I am generous, Madame Hardwind. For I am prepared to listen to what price you will pay me when I give you that."
He smiles again, and sips his wine.
Paige seems content with Lucas's wrangling of the horns on this one, and doesn't open herself to getting gored.
She sips her wine. "You know the reward I want. Will you make a case for me with your uncle? I am a friend of the crown, a good friend."
Paige raises a questioning eyebrow to Lucas.
"As I said," says Lucas, "I will give you the chance to attain the thing you desire above all others - and that includes adding my voice to the argument. But ... I am also offering you the chance to prove your own worthiness." He smiles. "It will lend force to my words if I have positive proof of your own abilities. And you will have the satisfaction of knowing it is your abilities that are rewarded, rather than being dependent on the favour of a scion of Amber.
"Ready your fleet, Madame Hardwind. Within a two-week, chandlers will be charging prices that will break shipwrights and merchants' hearts. And I will need a fleet in readiness.
"Let it be yours."
She nods, slowly.
Paige smiles and finishes her drink.
Last modified: 3 May 2005