After the funeral, Lucas walks slowly back to the castle with Solace, matching her pace to his steps. If she leans on him rather more than a healthy woman would find necessary, he makes no comment.
Their rooms are packed now. Solace's belongings are not many - the bulk of the objects belong to the children - Lucas has visions of his mother needing a small but serviceable merchant fleet to accommodate her grandchildren's baggage.
Lucas has obtained a trump of Flora - it is now time to say his goodbyes and pass through his wife, his children - and Pert, Nanny Starch and Gaston.
For a long moment he simply looks at Phillippe, peacefully asleep in Nanny Starch's arms. Then he leans forward and kisses his forehead, before smoothing the silky soft baby hair back from his face. When he sees Phillippe again, that will be thicker. Coarser.
He straightens, and picks up Hope.
"You will be good for your grandmere, yes? And for Maman? And for Nanny?"
A kiss for each nod of agreement. He holds her tight, as though he will never let her go ... and then at the last he releases her and sends her to take Gaston's hand.
So. Solace. There have been other women. There will, Lucas knows full well, be other women. But Solace ... her gentle ways, her unconditional love, her constant support ...
Her delicacy ... and his own role in it.
He is sending her away from the reality that might strengthen her.
He is sending her away ... from him.
He holds her for a long moment. He will forget this over time, as he had forgotten other women, the precise way she positions her hands, her little hands ... the feel of her fair curls against his cheek ... such fine hair. He will even forget how her veins show so blue against her pale skin.
"I'll come to you soon," he says and, lest that be taken for a promise he might have to break, "if I can."
Then he takes the trump and contacts his mother.
Afterwards, the rooms seem quiet, and empty. With two small children, the suite, acquired after their wedding, has always seemed a little squashed. Now it seems as spacious as all Versailles. Lucas wanders from room to room. His own things remain - enough to make life tolerable here in Amber, although other things will be going to Xanadu to reduce the soulless motel chic of his rooms in the palace into something that Lucas feels he might actually manage to sleep in - or, more importantly, wake up in with any desire to begin another day.
But it is not the _things_ that have gone which are making the rooms so empty.
He finds himself bending to look under Hope's bed in case there may be a discarded toy. But nothing escapes Nanny Starch's eagle eyes. Favourite toys have been packed away to take, the rest have been given to less fortunate children in the city. Lucas finds himself with his back against the wall of the nursery, gazing sightlessly through the wide window out over the sea, his arms wrapped around Hope's pillow, trying to catch the elusive scent of her ...
The knock on his door surprises him into activity. Of course ... Prudenter. He had arranged to meet him after the funeral - the tobacconist who had been his spymaster until the Rebmans had so spectacularly blown his cover. Lucas had promised him new and challenging employment ...
Prudenter is to act as his major domo in Xanadu. His main task will be to have the house Lucas plans there started and quietly begin reconstructing the spy networks in Xanadu - although Prudenter's role is to be far more detached this time.
As for the house ... Lucas lays out the plans on a remaining table. He explains the location he has chosen on his scouting expedition in Xanadu with Martin; on a hill, yet with good access to water. A pretty town house is what he envisages, after the style of an aristo, and with room for expansion. Lucas is prepared to put serious money into getting the house he wants, and the infrastructure to support it. He reckons getting the cash flowing will definitely help the economy, anyway. And the house will, of course, be in the fashionable part of town. After all, Lucas will be living there.
At this point Gouter, Lucas' food taster and quondam private chef is called in. He too will be going to Xanadu - the men and women who work on Lucas' house will be among the best fed in Xanadu - Lucas has no doubts of Gouter's abilities, even when cooking in a cauldron over an open fire. And Lucas is also keen to encourage gastronomic development in Xanadu. After all, when he settles there, he will want some exclusive French restaurants where he can take Solace. Gouter is encouraged to show entrepreneurship - there will doubtless be opportunities for pie shops in the future. And kebab shops. Generic fast food - whatever the level of development. Lucas isn't planning on owning and running establishments. But it's a good pie to insert a finger in - and Gouter's cooking should ensure that what sticks to the finger will be worth licking off afterwards.
He concludes their discussions by explaining the arrangements that will be made for their journey to Xanadu, as well as he understands it.
When they have gone, Lucas prepares to go to the Red Mill. This, he feels, is an evening for getting drunk with Silken, and finding pleasure in her arms. And her pleasure ... well, in addition to himself and his not inconsiderable skills, he has new opportunities for Silken too, in Xanadu.
As he finishes dressing for the evening, he notices a slender red volume on a shelf that he's been intending to pass to Solange for several days - the book about the Paresh. Ah well, tomorrow morning, perhaps. And Vere is in Amber too. If he can be separated from Robin (it may take a crowbar, Lucas suspects), perhaps he would be interested in adding his experiences of the Paresh into the discussion.
There is a gentle knock upon the door.
For the majority of the day, Lilly had been caught in a tide of self pity. Every shortcoming becomes magnified in the face of grief. Even her recent victory seems hollow. Though her wish might be to drown, she knows no good will come of it. There is duty and there is honor. Neither is served through selfish acts. Now is the time to reach out, to put another's needs first. At the funereal she noticed one that perhaps needed aid more then any other. If she can bring Solace any peace right now, so much the better. Resolutely, she awaits an answer.
The door opens and - unusually, it is opened by Lucas himself, and not by the ubiquitous and lugubrious Gaston. He looks faintly surprised to see her but holds the door wide to let her come in. Behind him, the suite is in unaccustomed darkness and seems to be missing some of the pieces of Louis Quinze furnuiture that she would normally expect to see there.
"Lilly ... how delightful to see you. Come in - would you like a drink?"
Lilly enters slowly taking in their surroundings as she does so. She was still wearing the dress she had worn to the funeral though her hair had been pulled back into a braid. "No thank you," she responds demurely. "I had only planned to stay a few moments. I noticed your wife did not seem quite herself earlier and thought I would stop by to see how she was and if there was anything I could do to be of assistance."
"I'm afraid not," says Lucas. "Solace ... after the attack on Amber, we decided that it was no longer safe for the children here. I wanted them under the protection of one who had both the power and the will to protect them in time of attack - and there was only one person I knew who could and would take on such a charge - my mother."
Lilly nods. Of course Flora would want a hand in the children's upbringing. If bringing them under her protection meant more access to them, all the better.
He frowns faintly. "I was hoping that they would be in a place of reality too, as Maman is chatelaine to Corwin. But she's travelling - creating Shadow Paths. It will be good for the children but ... it is less than ideal for Solace. As you observed, she is not well. But ... she wanted to be with the children."
"I am told most mother's do," Lilly replies sounding far more bitter then she would care to admit. She gathers herself before continuing on. "All the same, this must be very difficult for you." Certainly there are other words that should be said, but Lilly has no idea what they are. As much as she would like to offer comfort, she simply does not know how.
"Probably no more so than I deserve," says Lucas shortly. "And harder by far for Solace - stuck on a ship with my mother's snide remarks, and her health failing. As you saw."
Lilly fall back on her most common response and simply nods.
"Shall we go into Amber for a drink - or would you prefer to join me here? It seems like an eminently sensible plan to get hogwhimperingly drunk, tonight. Funerals always bring out the best in people, don't you think? Just as weddings invariably bring out the worst. A shame Rangers don't have the custom of the Wake - the rip-roaring family-baiting celebration - drinking yourself under the table once you have devoured the mound of sandwiches placed on top of it."
"I can honestly say I have never been to a wake. Or many funerals even for that matter. And I seldom drink," Lilly responds. Though right now a drink or three would certainly be welcome, she decides.
He glances at her appraisingly. "It would do you good to indulge for once. To crack that iron self-control, throw back your head and shake out that glorious mane of hair. But, of course, you'd prefer to smile tightly, make your excuses and leave."
She simply stares trying to put together the right answer, a smart comeback. Nothing came to mind. The problem, of course, was that he was right. She did not indulge herself. Her self control was a source of pride. Her passion was expressed only in war. What sort of creature only found true joy in besting others?
He smiles. It is not a particularly kind smile but it suggests ... possibilities.
"Or would you?" he says softly.
"Come into my parlour, Lilly, someowhat denuded though it is. Come into my parlour, and we'll drink to Solace and my children, to Daeon and his children, to Paige and her children ... and to those beautiful, deadly fire lilies ... together."
Voices began to pound in Lilly's head...
Run. Leave this room. Leave this palace. Head into shadow. Find a place where you can be alone. You are only safe when you are alone.
No.
No more running. No more retreating, she thinks to herself. This is not about Lucas. This is about learning to accept who I truly am. This is about facing my demons and learning to overcome them. This is about acting like an adult for the first time on my life.
"All right," Lilly answers slowly. "We shall drink to those we have lost and those we hope to see again." She makes herself comfortable in a nearby chair.
"But I can not promise to stay long," she says looking up at him. "I am expecting a message and when it arrives, I may be called away.
"And that is not an excuse," she adds, the shadow of a smile playing on her features. "It is merely a fact."
"Perish the thought," agrees Lucas. "Why in the name of all Amber would you want to spurn the excellent hospitality that I am famed for to plunge out into the cold and indifferent world once more?"
"Honor. Duty. I keep my promises, even when it is inconvenient." Lilly replies coolly. Never give too much, she reminds herself.
He moves to the rather extensive drinks cabinet that takes up half of one wall, and opens a door. For a moment he surveys the contents disparagingly ... then he turns to look at Lilly sitting musing, her lovely profile outlined by the fire. For a moment he regards her, considering - then suddenly he smiles and reaches unerringly for a single bottle some way into the cabinet. Perhaps surprisingly, as he withdraws it from the cabinet, he gives it a light shake.
Then he pours two long fluted glasses. The liquid is clear - but within it, tiny flakes of gold twist and turn in graceful, intricate dances, catching the light as they descend, with infinite slowness.
"Here," he says, carrying the glasses across and offering one to Lilly. "It is real gold within - and harmless to drink. It tastes of cinnamon and orange, and woodland herbs too - the liquid, that is - not the gold."
He doesn't add that is rather strong.
Lilly takes it and immediately begins to survey the liquid within. She watches the tiny flecks and wonders, vaguely, why the gold was necessary.
He takes a seat on a pouffe at her feet - close, but not unnervingly so. It is hard to look relaxed and elegant on a pouffe, but Lucas accomplishes it effortlessly.
"Shall we drink to absent friends?" he suggests, lifting his glass to chime with hers (a perfect C).
He takes a sip.
The toast is returned and Lilly takes a small sip herself. Best to test the waters before jumping in.
"This was called bride's tears," he tells her presently. "Perhaps because shy and virginal brides were reputed to shed tears of gold on their wedding night ... but you've surrendered a different kind of virginity, haven't you Lilly?"
"I suppose," she says wondering what he means and yet knowing that he is right. "That is part of growing, is it not? Surrendering the tokens of our innocence? Once we have stepped onto the path, there is no turning back."
Lucas misses just the faintest beat as he raises his glass to his lips.
"Indeed," he says.
He smiles at her. "I've not had the chance to congratulate you on walking the Pattern. Your father must be very proud ... you know he watched you walk?"
Lilly seems genuinely surprised. "No, I did not know that," she replies. "We have barely talked since then." Not that we ever truly had strong dialogues, she thinks to herself. Lack of social skills seemed to run in her father's blood. She takes a second sip of her drink.
"And he's not one to show his emotions, pride or otherwise. Since he has not berated me for my actions, I can only assume he approves."
"I imagine he does." He sips his glass again and then sets it down on the tiles of the hearth where the gold leaf within the glass flashes reflected sparks from the light of the fire. Emboldened by the proximity to heat, the little gold flecks check their slow descent and pause for a moment ...
"Your father is not the only one of his generation to suffer from the affliction of being unable to say the words, 'Well done', you know," he says quietly, and then reaches out to take her slender hand in his.
In the glass, the little flecks of gold begin, with infinitesimal slowness, to rise. Lilly looks at him for a long moment. The tension in the room is slowly becoming palpable and yet she is still unsure of the game they are playing. Without knowing the game, she could not know his rules. Still, perhaps this is the sort of thing that can only be learned through action. Or lack thereof.
"I suppose living through many lifetimes does tend to make one a bit emotional distant. I would think it would become instinct to withdraw when so much is lost due to time and space," she gives a dainty little shrug. "Still, when all is said and done, our family goes on. We really do only have each other." For Lilly this is still something of a comfort.
"Indeed," agrees Lucas.
His hand is so close to hers now that their fingertips might brush. Just a few inches ... but he comes no closer, leaving her to take the decision of whether she will take the comfort of physical comfort he is offering through his extended hand.
Lilly is certain a mere touch would give away far too much emotion. The slightest tremble would be felt. It was best to remain seperate. She needed that small cushion of comfort.
Of course she also understood body language. Backing away, even the slightest bit would show fear and discomfort. So she remains perfectly still.
He lowers his hand.
"You're not drinking," he says softly, his eyes still gazing at her face. "Don't you like it?"
This earns him a smile and she does, indeed, take another sip. "It's very nice. Something to be savored and enjoyed not gulped down like common drinking water."
His lips twitch slightly. "Indeed."
With his free hand he reaches down and takes up his own glass - another sip.
"There are Shadows, you know, that hold intoxication is the key to wisdom. They seek liberation of the self through an satiation of the senses ... to move beyond the mere physicality and pass through the doors of perception."
He drinks again.
"Other Shadows believe the same - and yet fear that potential for knowledge so much that all sensuous pleasure is forbidden - to be feared, lest in gaining knowledge, one loses the self entirely.
"Do you fear that, Lilly? Do you fear to allow yourself simple natural pleasures might steal the strength from your arm and the quickness from your eye?"
"It would for an evening," she replies casually. "And if I proved to be a nasty drunk, I may become something of a danger to the fool who had the misfortune of drawing my ire." The smile returns only now it is a bit more predatory.
"Do I fear it would ruin me permanently or even for an extended duration? Of course not. If we can recover from greivous injury, surely we can recover from a bit of intoxication." Lilly takes a third sip, this one longer the the first two.
"Ah," says Lucas. "But there are, of course, other intoxications. And some may take a little more than a night to recover from."
His dark eyes are watching her over the brim of his glass.
Lilly takes a moment to contemplate. Another sip. "Sword play," she says and allows another moment to pass before continuing on.
"For me it both calms and invigorates. While in the midst of a duel I am overcome by an intoxication of my own doing. My every sense it heightened, my mind clear. It is also, I have noticed, rather addictive. I would spend entire days in the salle if I had the option.
"I take it you are referring to things such as that?"
"Actually ... no," says Lucas. "I was thinking of pleasures that result from the optimum distance between sparring partners being somewhat less than is usually judged prudent in the salle.
"And I'm not talking about knife fighting either," he adds before Lilly can advance the possiblity. "You see, cos, there are a whole host of pleasures that can be ... rather addictive."
Her look carries both caution and interest. Before she can think of a diplomatic response, however, Lilly says the first thing that came to mind. "Your wife has been gone from these chambers for mere moments. Why would you rush into bed with someone else so quickly? Seeking out the company of a mistress I might understand. But why me? Why now?" Her tone is gentle. There is no judgement only a strong desire to understand.
Lucas looks at her for a long moment - and then he smiles - a warm smile - the sort of smile that Lily has caught, very occasionally - when Lucas is genuinely amused by something, and as far removed as possible from the thin-lipped, cynical smile that accompanies his public persona.
"Lilly - you are delightful, you know. And yes, it would be very tempting to bed you to watch the exact moment when the calm of your demeanour vanishes and your lovely still face glows with the life and passion that hasn't yet awakened. But when you came through the doors, you informed me that you were expecting a message shortly. And however tempting you may be, I am not the sort of boor who would take pleasure from a few quick thrusts and then wave you on your way. No, sweet cousin, you are worth infinitely more time, and pleasure. The former we do not have, and therefore we will not attempt the latter."
A look of relief washes across Lilly's features before she can stop it. The tension in the room had been threatening to suffocate her. Now she felt herslef breathing a bit easier.
"Why you? Because you are wholly entrancing. You're the tight lily bud, and any man worth his salt will ache to caress those soft petals into a full and perfect flowering. Why now? More complicated ... Part of it is the proximity of death - which frequently has the effect of making people stretch out towards the most potent manifestation of life. And perhaps ... something more. Something ... not to do with you at all. Another reason why this evening will go no further."
He drains his glass and sets it down.
Lilly dare not speak. Once again the breathless feeling returns. For a moment she had felt she could swim but the waters turned rough once again. I shall surely drown, she thinks to herself. My cousins shall be the end of me...
"Unless, of course, you beg me. Then a gentlemen such as myself would feel honour bound to acede to your request."
And then the most extraordinary thing happens. Lilly laughs. Clear, bright, full of good humor. The alternative, taking offensive, would have left her angry and bitter. No point in risking blood shed.
There is an answering amusement in Lucas's face, although he does not laugh himself. Lilly might, perhaps, realise that there was a definite element of teasing in Lucas' last statement.
"Beg you?," Lilly replied in mock seriousness. "I never beg. I might ask. Or cajole. But never beg. I assure you of that. Your honor will not be tested this evening." She shakes her head gently before giving into the temptation of her drink. Her glass, too, is quickly drained.
"I'm delighted to hear it," he says, with a slightly quirked smile. "I'm feeling a little fragile in the honour department.
"Would you like another drink? I was wondering what you were intending to do now that the funeral is over. An unsettling time for us all, is it not?"
Lilly hands him her glass with a simple nod in response to the first question. The second one requires a few moments of thought.
Lucas moves to the cabinet and chooses fresh glasses. This time the liquid is a deep, clear violet, and, when Lilly tastes it (no, it's not meths), it has a delicate and soft flavour of rose petals and orange, and a subtle hint of vanilla. Lucas, however, does not tell her what it is called, but allows her instead to gather her thoughts, taking his seat again on the pouffee at her feet.
"Yes, it is." There is a pause before as she decided what to disclose. "I should probably remain in service to the King. And help with some of the Knight's interests. But I have been distracted lately by an almost urgent desire to head into shadow. I want to solve some of the questions of my past. I fear if I do not, I may never be able to fully embrace my future." Lilly takes a deep breath. "So if I am being completely honest, the answer is I don't know what I am going to do."
Lucas nods slowly. "Your prowess in feats of arms makes it sometimes very difficult to remember how young you are, I fear. Most of us grew up before the war curtailed travelling ... now that you've walked the Pattern, you should have your chance too. After all, it is not as though you have any material ties here - I am sure, if you asked, the King would be happy to let you broaden your experience. Reality will, after all, draw us inevitably homeward again."
Something in his tone as much as his words suggests that Lucas has a voyage of his own in mind.
Lilly takes the time to savor a sip of her drink before answering. "All I have known is war. I was barely ready to leave my fosterage when my father decided I was needed in chaos. As honored as I was, and I do realize it was indeed an honor, it was still a bit overwhelming. I think I am still gaining my footing and trying to understand what it is to be an Amberite. And as odd as it might sound, I don't think this is the place to do that. Nor is Xanadu. I have too many questions that need to be answered and too many demons to face before I can comfortably accept my place within the family."
She took a longer drink and looked up at Lucas. "I sound absolutely ridiculous, don't I?" she said, her voice full of exasperation.
Lucas considers this.
"No," he says at last. "Perhaps a little young - but that is quite refreshing in this family. But I think you are quite right about this not being the best place to explore yourself. Quite frankly, my sweet, there are too many bloody relatives lurking behind every arras and all too ready to reach out a helpful hand. Or, indeed, to stick out a foot and send you flying if that way the mood takes them. What you need is to discover what Lilly is capable of doing - perhaps solus, perhaps duos or tre. Doctor Lucas prescribes a stroll in Shadow ... a pronouncement not notably lessened by the confession that my Doctorate from the Sorbonne is, perhaps you will feel inevitably, in aesthetics."
Once again, Lucas manages to coax a smile from Lilly. "A stroll in shadow," she repeats. Moments pass as she contemplates the possibilities.
"Not alone. I was warned against that. Not the first time anyway. So I suppose it may take a while to actually go about doing it. I hate the thought of a babysitter, of course. But, well, for the sake of safety..." As the words fall off, she raises her glass to lips yet again.
"Actually," says Lucas, with the air of one giving the matter grave and judicious thought, "I suspect that the danger will be less to your own safety than to the safety of any unfortunate Shadow dwellers who might stumble bleary-eyed into your path and inadvertently manage to insult you. Or perhaps not inadvertently - for one thing that you might not have been told about Shadow is that - unless you shift very carefully - you can find that it is filled with people who can be very aggressive and sometimes very rude. Not, you understand, with the rapier-like shafts of wit that I might employ myself. But very much more of the "'ello darling, give us a feel then" broad cudgel style of insult. Indeed, you will be doing Shadow a great service by removing as many of these clods as you can ..."
A shadow crosses her features. Lilly has dealt with all sorts of men before. And Lucas is right. Very few probably had to inclination to offend a woman again afterwards.
"No, Lilly, you won't need a babysitter for your own safety, I suspect. But perhaps someone a little more shadow-wise ... with that certain worldiness that comes from a little experience ... "
He gives her one of his most lizard-like smiles.
"You know, I was thinking of taking the scenic route to Xanadu myself."
"Oh, you were?" she responds. This time she knows the proposal is coming. Sometimes the setup is easy to see. "What sort of scenery are you hoping to see?" It sounds a bit like a dare. If nothing else, the girl obviously learns fast.
"Oh, you were?" she responds. This time she knows the proposal is coming. Sometimes the setup is easy to see. "What sort of scenery are you hoping to see?" It sounds a bit like a dare. If nothing else, the girl obviously learns fast.
Lucas shrugs. "Nothing definite at the moment. I still ... have a few things I need to sort out. But ... "
He is silent for a moment, as though considering. Then he suddenly smiles. "If I go into Shadow, Lilly, I'll invite you. You can trade your skill with the blade for my skill with the ettiquette. It should be a mutually beneficial arrangement."
"I should think so," Lilly agrees. "We are an odd pair. No doubt about that. But as long as we can work together... Well I think this might end up being a positive experience for both of us."
Lucas' thin lips twitch, but before he can say anything ...
A respectful, professional knock sounds at the door to Lucas' chambers.
Once away from Gerard's chamber, Robin slows her speed - mostly out of courtesy to the page hurrying up behind her. Though there's definitely some confusion there as well.
Coming to a stop, the Ranger turns a smile on the young man. "Soooo, where is Lilly?"
Perhaps stories about Julian's perpetually lost daughter have filtered down to enough of the staff, because after a rocky start, the page rallies well, figuring that bringing Robin should count as a 'reply' even to the Queen's austere (and beautiful) bodyguard.
"This way, ma'am." With a polite gesture and an unerring sense of direction, the page leads Robin through the hallways, stairways and byways of Amber Castle. In short order, the two stand before Lucas' door.
Robin looks around in confusion, her nose wrinkling. What is that smell?! And the corridor... so strange to her forest-born eyes. Somehow, she didn't figure that she'd find Lilly here. With sword-snagging fabric and tapestries hanging everywhere, completely non-functional whats... tables? holding... things that look fragile and not at all useful in a fight. The carpet sucks at the Ranger's boots with almost obscene intimacy and she's pretty sure that the colors are doing something bad to her eyes.
The page on the other hand seems to know exactly what he's doing. With quick efficient strokes, he settles his hair, straightens his tabard, swipes away dust that Robin can't even see, polishes his shoes on the backs of his trews, draws himself up to an appropriate carriage and knocks with the perfect mix of deference and competence.
"And that is probably my interruption," Lilly says with a shrug. She waits patiently for Lucas to answer. It is his suite after all.
"Indeed," says Lucas.
He rises in one easy movement from the low pouffe and saunters to the door, opening it to reveal the spick and span page (who sees a slightly flared nostril by way of acknowledgement) and Robin, who gets a fully raised eyebrow.
"Welcome to my humble abode, Cousin Robin," he says urbanely. "An unprecedented honour, I do believe. I had no idea that setting up as a single man would lead to my rooms becoming quite such a magnet to my female ... Well. Doubtless this visit is not due to a desire to share a convivial glass with me, but to your desire to find Lilly - am I correct?
"Do come in - or shall I send Lilly out to you?"
The corridor of the suite behind Lucas might seem to him sadly denuded of his objets trouvee, but to Robin it probably seems excessively over-furnished for a simple walkway.
Lucas! Robin blinks in surprise. Oh, well that explains a lot -- smells and drapery and such. As Lucas starts in on his lots of words approach to introductions, Robin's eyes take in what's behind him. Huhn! The Ranger's never been that big a fan of walls in the first place, but still... to do that to them. No wonder they're hiding behind all that stuff - embarrassment.
"Hi, Lucas." Robin gets out from behind the bemused smile. "Uhhh," she looks down at herself. Gone is the crisp clean Ranger of the funeral. There's definitely mud on her boots, at least two visible grass stains on her pants, the itinerant pine needle or three in her hair, and a cute little smudge under her chin. "If you're sure I won't muss or break anything, I guess... I can come in? It'd be up to Lilly to decide about glasses - convivial or otherwise."
"Absolutely," says Lucas. He nods a dismissal to the page, and then stands back to allow Robin to enter.
Robin flashes a thank-you smile to the working lad and steps through the door with delicate steps belied by her rough appearance. It's obvious that she's employing moving through the underbrush skills to navigate Lucas' art maze.
The flicker of firelight shows from the room where Lilly sits - and the fact that the door is half ajar is probably another giveaway. Lucas, ever the gentleman, follows Robin into the room.
If the corridor was crowded, this room positively screams that it's a den of sybaritic pleasures.
Yikes! 'Breathe, breathe,' Robin thinks to herself. 'Pleeeeze, Lucas, let at least some of those hanging... things have windows behind them.'
She smiles a little tightly to Lilly as she feels around for a flow of air from someplace other than the flue.
Lilly rises to her feet as Robin enters. As usual, she is armed. Her eyes lock on Robin's and she offers a nod. Her manner seems business-like but that too was common for Lilly.
"Your ride, I believe," he says to Lilly. "Would either of you care for a drink before you depart?"
In response, Lilly holds up her glass and then drinks down the contents. "I think I have now had more then I need," she says. "But please Robin, if you would like something, well don't let some rule of etiquette keep you from it. Our conversation can wait a few moments." In fact Lilly would almost welcome a slight delay. It would give her time to put her thoughts together.
Robin looks back and forth between Lucas and Lilly. Ride? Depart? Etiquette? Conversation? Ooookkkkaayyy.
With a wry smile, Robin edges toward the hearth, carefully maneuvering her sword and scabbard away from the... things. "I guess I can be social. What are you guys drinking?" Since she truly doubts that Lucas would tolerate any of her type of alcohol to share the same cabinet with his.
"Ah," said Lucas. "We were indulging in a little ... hmmm. Perhaps not. I think I might be able to mix something that would be to your taste, cousin."
"Oh, okay." Green eyes watch as Lucas sets to work. A quick smile darts across her lips at the... simplication of his dialogue since his earlier greeting. But she has to admit that it's working.
He moves over to a wooden cabinet (carved and embossed with more flourishes that any piece of wood deserves to have tortured out of it) and opens it to reveal what might seem to be an obscene number of bottles of alcohol. He pauses, considering, and then abstracts two - pouring a generous measure of both of them into a single glass. This he pads across to Robin with, and offers it with a slight bow.
Weeeellll, obviously Lucas knows how much to put in a glass for Robin. Her smile grows a little more as she accepts the glass. "Thank you, Lucas."
Warmth shows in her eyes. The Ranger knows it's his talent and way, but still she appreciates the actual grace as opposed to the flouncing.
The liquid within is a rich warm brown, like polished wood in firelight - and yet, if she holds it up to the light, it somehow seems to contain green lights, like sunlight in the deep forest. The smell is of ginger, richly spicy. When Robin takes a sip (if she does), the first impression is of liquid fire in her mouth. But that fades and becomes wonderfully warming - a richness that seems to melt its way slowly down her throat and fills her with a delicious warmth.
Of course, Robin might have had a whisky mac before.
Robin does take time to play with the colors a little. At a sniff, her expression changes from slightly wary to bemused delight. The first sip sends the girl's eyes off wandering. The second drink has not relation to a sip and is happily indulged in. "Ooo, Lucas! Harvest Dance. Thank you." She laughs, eyes sparkling. And toasts his talent at matching drink to drinker.
Lucas inclines his head with a faint, acknowledging smile.
She smiles over to Lilly. "What'd he give you?" The twinkle of gentle mischeviousness has replaced much of the animal trapped in the boudoir look in her face.
The seriousness leaves Lilly's features for a moment and there is a playful spark in her eye, "Ah the first was called Bride's Tears. The second... Well that one was never named. But it was quite lovely. Better then the first, I must say." She offers nod of thanks to Lucas.
Lilly allows a few moment for drinks to be consumed before addressing their host once more, "Lucas you have been most gracious this evening, thank you. But you seemed dressed for an evening out and I do not wish to keep you any longer." Her attention turns to Robin, "Perhaps you would like to take a walk in one of the gardens? I could use a bit of fresh air."
Lucas waits politely, making no move to detain his guests (nor any sign that might hurry their departure either). He is, of course, the perfect host.
Robin pauses from where she was wiping her mouth on the back of her hand. A chuckle ripples through her.
"Gardens would be fine." Yep, yep. Time to get Robin outdoors again, she thinks with a ironic smile.
"Lucas? Thank you." The Ranger holds out her glass to him, a little awkwardly, unsure of what to do with the thing. "Uh, maybe some time we could... you know... talk or something... I guess?"
Oh, yeah. That was smooth.
"I shall be delighted," says Lucas, with perfect gravity and a small bow, "to talk ... or something ... at some future time."
He takes Robin's empty glass and moves to escort both ladies from his rooms, holding open the door and closing it after their departure.
Lilly pauses for a moment of the way out, seems as if she has something to add, and then promptly retreats back to formality. Not now, she decides. It will wait.
Last modified: 16 October 2005