When Brennan returned from the excursion to Clarissa and Uxmal, he had told King Random that he'd be back to speak at greater length, and left it to Dignity to schedule the meeting.
When the day of that meeting comes around (which is after Brennan's meeting with Caine, and probably after Brennan receives his message from Ambrose, although not necessarily after his reply) Brennan arrives punctually, on time, and as formally dressed as he ever is. He's left Dignity with instructions to set up a private meeting, not a court case in front of strangers and non-Family members.
"Majesty," he says, taking cues after that as to how Random conducts his private meetings with nephews, nieces, and Knights Commander. "I'm not sure what Bleys has said and left unsaid, but you won't be surprised if I tell you there's much more news than I mentioned when everyone returned."
The only significant change to the room since Brennan was last here is a crystal pitcher of water which holds a rock and three firelillies. It sits on the bar next to a bottle of dark brown liquid and a glass of light brown liquid. "You're right, and now is the time to rectify that, perhaps on several fronts. Care for a scotch and water?"
As Random moves out of the way of the lillies, and Brennan sees them, his eyes narrow and he lets out a very small groan that he can't quite conceal from someone with hearing as sharp as a Royal. "Make it a double," he says. "Majesty. You first, or me?"
The King pours whiskey in the glass, darkening in significantly before handing it to Brennan. He pours himself a straight shot of scotch, leaving Brennan to guess if the water in the first drink comes from the firelilly's pitcher.
Brennan doesn't guess.
"Fire away," says Random.
Nor does he twitch at the phrasing. "All right," he says. "My brother has made noises about wanting to come in out of the cold." The direct approach, obviously.
Random nods. "Well, seeing what he clearly wanted the last time he was here, I can see what's in it for him. What does he think is in such a deal for Amber?"
Brennan gives a rueful half smile. "He thought that Brita's safe passage might be enough. I caused him to understand that he was almost certainly wrong," he says, "so he won't be shocked at this notion. I'd say, 'He's a sorcerer,' but you might consider that a liability. What would a reasonable answer be, on his part?"
"There are a number of reasonable answers. Maybe I need a court wizard for Xanadu. There's something to be said for attaching him to our court. Gets us used to him, gets him used to us. Deals with the Elephant in the Ballroom of his unfriendly appearance at the coronation...
"Do you want your brother to come in? And what do you think it will mean to your extended family if we grant this boon?"
"...Yes," Brennan says, after a beat's worth of residual internal debate. "But, I think it would mean a lot of people wondering if he might be carrying a grudge, still collaborating with Dara or otherwise. I don't think the latter is true-- I think she was going to try to murder him, down there, and I think he realizes that. The other, and the others?"
Brennan shrugs. "Brand didn't leave him in a great position to prove his intentions. He didn't have the benefit of the War, such as it was, to prove himself."
"You have the number two interest in his case. Right behind you are your aunt and your uncle. I'd hate to do you a favor and tick them off at the same time unless I meant to.
"Your brother has my guarantee of safe-passage to come make his case to me. In Xanadu. "
"That presents certain logistical difficulties," Brennan says, "In that he can't get there from Uxmal, and we don't have Trumps of each other. You should know, in the spirit of full disclosure that he can get to here, and we've set up an ad hoc mail drop system, but we both thought it wise for him not to simply show up and walk the halls.
"Also, he doesn't know about Xanadu. When I went with him to Uxmal, I hadn't gotten the news yet, and I kept my speculations to myself. No sense looking stupid if I turned out to be wrong. He wants me to plead his case to Corwin, but given the Merlin incident..." Brennan spreads his hands. "Well."
"He's also got a situation in Uxmal that takes some attention. Our sister is making a persistent sttempt to take the place over and kill him." A thought crosses Brennan's mind. He doesn't like it, so he shoves it back down under the grey matter, just above the brain stem, where it belongs. "That would be one of the obvious reasons he'd like to come in out of the cold."
"Is he looking for military aid? We're a little stretched right now, but if you were to recruit, you might have some luck, oh, Knight Commander Brennan.
"If your brother wants to come in, he's got to actually come in, though. I don't think he can come in by having you bring me to Brandland."
Brennan shakes his head. "Wasn't suggesting that, only adding in background so that delay isn't taken as offense. And... no, not recruiting at the moment. I don't want to lead men there unless I know that Ambrose and I are on the same track, and we're not there yet. Although it would make a nice training exercise for your army," he muses.
Random doesn't say that he doesn't have a standing army.
Brennan gives a not accidental glace at the flowers. "Okay, we might as well talk about those, now."
Random turns and stares at the firelilies. "Fascinating, aren't they? Beautiful, and almost earthly. If you weren't paying attention to what they were growing on, or it wasn't really dark, you might not realize they were anything but flowers. The more I think about them, the more my teeth itch." He turns and looks at Brennan. "I'd like to hear a story that ends with '...And that's why you were sent this pitcher of magic flowers that might possibly be secret Chaosian spy thingies to keep in your Royal Office.' Can you tell me that story, Brennan?"
There is a much longer than normal silence, before Brennan answers. This may be because the strenuous effort not to shift, grimace, or spit on the floor in front of his liege occupies too much of his thought. "I can, Majesty," Brennan says.
"Some time ago, one of your Knights welcomed another home to Amber after a long absence in the environs of Arden and Arcadia. They spoke of many things, including another of their order, high in the returning Knight's affection, and recently fallen; and the disposition of the returning Knight's brother, still at large in Arden and Arcadia, recently become the father of his nephew and niece.
"They spoke at length, and soon a mutual cousin came to join them, the mother of the returning Knight's new nephew and niece. She had previously expressed a desire to go find her children's father in Arden and Arcadia, and did then express the desire to use those very blossoms as a tool to help locate him. With this, the returning swiftly expressed, with vehemence, his opposition to this plan, and forbade its execution or any similar.
"So informed, the new mother withdrew. Questioned by the other, the returning Knight opined that, without the blossoms which they still possessed, it would be strictly impossible for the new mother to disturb the delicate situation in Arden and Arcadia. Over the skepticism of his friend, the returning Knight then made known his further opinion that should the blossoms reside with the First Sea Lord of Amber, that would sufficiently discourage their use. They parted company.
"Since the First Sea Lord of Amber does not strike me as a man to shift his burden, I can only assume the returning Knight reconsidered, and decided that if the blossoms resided in your office, that would be even... more effective. And that's why," Brennan draws a deep breath, "You were sent this pitcher of magic flowers that might possibly be secret Chaosian spy thingies to keep in your Royal Office. Majesty."
Random nods along. "And so here I sit, on the horns of a dilemma, which is unpleasant on a day that I did not schedule myself for cheek-piercings. On the one hand, I have my natural inclination to let family members do whatever Unicorn-benighted thing they please. On the other hand I have a Knight Commander who tells me the idea causes subatomic molecular agitation throughout his person. Sub-atomic! If it were Bleys and Jules, I know how I'd handle it, except that it wouldn't have happened this way.
"And so, Sir Brennan, I'm gonna take the time-honored monarchical approach, and ask you for advice. 'Given all that we know of this, nephew mine, what do you suggest that I do?'"
Again, there is a noticeable pause as Brennan considers the problem from Random's perspective and Amber's perspective, which for the sake of theory Brennan treats as the same. He thinks long enough to form the shape of the answer, and then fills in the details as he talks.
"Stipulating that I were you," Brennan says, changing the question subtly, "stipulating that directly thwarting your nieces and nephews is possible, but at a cost you are unwilling to pay, and stipulating that you are concerned about the lillies...
"...Keep the thwarting to a minimum, and bend every action you can to your purposes. If you don't want to try and forbid Paige from going, and you know she'll go anyway, take the opposite approach, and turn the rebellion into a responsibility. You stand to gain more knowledge about the flowers, and about the situation in Arden and Arcadia if Julian isn't feeding you reports already; a measure of control over the project that you wouldn't have otherwise; and a better assessment of Paige's reliability. Assuming the whole thing doesn't go pear shaped.
"Were I you, I wouldn't send her alone. She's already recruited Merlin, who asked my opinion again. In fairness, I told him I considered it a potentially bad idea, but Merlin is no fool. He is also a Sorcerer, better to judge the flowers, and he has his father as a resource to draw on for some older wisdom on Arden and Arcadia. I already pointed him in that direction for advice. I think he'd also be more mindful of limits that you place on the project-- Locate, do not contact, report; Contact, do not transport, report; variations. He'd help keep any extemporizing to a minimum, I think. And the advice gathering gives things just a little more time to play out before a decision is required.
"So much for Paige." Brennan lapses into another considered pause. When he continues, it's clear he's less satisfied with this part of the answer.
"Jovian's not so easy. Were he still in Amber, and were I you, I'd add him as a third member of that team without hesitation. But he's already gone, so you can't just yank him back, and you can't just co-opt his actions into your own. Which is the basic problem. The best there is here, is that the only action you've thwarted is Jovian's thwarting of Paige. I'm not sure he'll see it that way, though. And I lack the delicacy to suggest that he hasn't left you any option but to disappoint someone, without making it a counter-productive rebuke."
Another pause. "If I had known he changed the destination from Caine to you, I would have intervened. I'll try to make sure this doesn't happen this way, again. Majesty."
Random waves. "While that would be nice, I sent for you for information, not because I thought you were responsible. Hmm. I could add you as the third to that mix, or perhaps Brita. But really, I think that Paige and Merlin are likely to do fine without help. You're welcome to go if you want, and if you need me to order it so that you don't cause a knightly fracas, just ask. Nothing I like less than knightly fracas-cee." Random looks at the flowers.
"...Thank you, no," Brennan declines politely. "I can't think of many situations I would less like to be actively involved in than the mess of Arden/Arcadian diplomacy. Call me when Julian needs another commander."
"I think we will decide that Jovian, feeling apprehensive as he did, sent these to me to allow me to make a decision with the wisdom that flows from me like wine through a goose.
"Wine?" Brennan says. It's a good thing he didn't use his out-loud voice for that.
"And in my wise wisdom, I want Merlin to come look at these and tell me if there's some freaky spy connection, if dipping these in water dowses Adonis, or if they'd make good combination lighter/boutonnieres."
Random looks up at Brennan. "Do you want to be here while he examines them?"
Brennan thinks about that very briefly, and then answers, "Yes, actually. Yes I would."
Random opens a door and looks around. "Please fetch Merlin," he says to someone. He returns to the office.
"He should be here shortly."
After a few minutes of small talk between Brennan and Random, Merlin arrives and is shown in. He smells a bit of turpentine.
"Your Majesty summoned me?" Merlin asks, looking around and seeming a bit relieved to see Brennan. Then his eyes fall on the flowers and things seem to click into place for him.
"I did indeed," says Random, "I need your sorcelriffic advice. The more paranoid of my advisors are afraid that these flowers are some sort of secret spy channel to our enemies in chaos. The less paranoid think they're only a parasite draining energy from Sir Adonis or one of his other personalities. Nobody who has any ability to tell me anything for sure has done so. I'm also wondering if harming the plants will harm Daeon, since that's one course of action that has been recommended."
"Medium paranoids also think they're a potential invasion route from Arcadia to Amber, and that we should be thinking about how to remove that route," Brennan interjects quietly.
[Random]
"What are your thoughts on them? Oh, and would you like a drink?"
Merlin says, "Thank you, no, Your Majesty. Ingesting sustenance might interrupt any sorcery I perform. I do not have any opinions on the flowers just yet, although I would be pleased to examine them for you. I had intended to request such a favor of the Knights, in fact, but was forestalled by their removal from the Knights' custody. Has Sir Brennan explained to Your Majesty the nature of my intentions?"
"Yes, but I'd like to hear it from you." Random sits on the corner of a nearby table and takes a gulp of his beverage.
Merlin nods. Random recognizes someone else's characteristic gesture in it; Brennan may, too, if he's observant enough. "Very well. Our kinswoman the Lady Paige has an interest in locating and speaking with our cousin Sir Adonis, who is the father of her children. I have agreed to aid her in this endeavor, and to that end have an interest in examining the firelillies as a possible link to him to aid in an attempt to determine his location by scrying. Given that I have not yet determined the feasibility of using the flowers to scry, or otherwise looked at them, any answers I give to your other questions needs must be speculative."
He adds, after a moment, "I do not believe the flowers are necessary for me to complete the scrying, but they would make it easier to perform: quicker and less tiring."
"Do you think there is any risk to Daeon, Paige, Arden, yourself, the Castle, or Greater Metropolitan Reality if you do this?"
"There is always a risk to Reality when sorcery is performed. It weakens the nature of Ordered reality. I do not see additional risk to Reality beyond the usual. There is some minor risk to me, to Adonis, and to whatever location I am in when I perform the scrying, including any witnesses. Particularly, if someone is trying to use sorcery to scry or spy, such entities might be able to detect and follow my spell to the detriment of one or the other of us. I do not feel that there is any particular risk beyond that to a scrying. Without examining the flowers sorcerously, I cannot say whether I believe there is a risk in using them." Merlin adopts a bit of a lecturing tone as his speech moves toward its end.
Random spreads his hands out and pushes them down. "OK, Doc, you've convinced me. Shoot, and by 'shoot' I mean 'perform your examination.'"
"Thank you, Your Majesty," Merlin says gravely. He moves over to the sidebar where the flowers sit and begins to stare intently at them.
Right now, Brennan is curious about whether a proficient Sorcerer's efforts can be detected without resort to Sorcery of his own. So, he'll watch intently sans assistance for a bit, then with the benefit of the Pattern brought to mind. Then he'll think about cracking open his own Third Eye.
Merlin examines the flowers from several angles. Brennan doesn't see anything strange or unusual with his mundane vision. When he brings up the Pattern, Merlin frowns and turns back to Brennan. "Please, cousin, will you refrain from doing that until I have completed my examination? It interferes with my work."
"Reflex," Brennan murmurs. He lowers it.
Random shrugs, and Merlin returns to his examination of the flowers.
Merlin completes his examination without further incident. He says that he believes the flowers are safe, or as safe as any flaming flowers can be in a building, but he will have to spend a watch or more to do any more testing. He asks Random's permission to take the flowers elsewhere to perform these tests, and Random grants it.
After Merlin departs, and has gone a sufficient distance that he'd need to use Sorcery to eavesdrop on them, Brennan says, "I still think it's a bad idea to go messing with them. But it's better to send her with help and on a leash, than not at all. And Merlin reminds me of another topic: Dara."
"Do you know what I asked Corwin for, in exchange for helping him take Amber? A regency. The only thing that will keep my sweet new kingdom from being constantly overrun with family is that most of us really want to find places where we're unbeholden to each other." Random pulls a lit cigarette from the nearby ashtray.
"What about Dara? She sent us any more calling cards?"
Brennan doesn't think that place is Arden or Arcadia, but lets it pass. The registration of loyal opposition is sufficient for him. On Dara, though: "No, not yet, but it's only a matter time. The last one she sent had a declaration of war written on it, real public-like."
"Hmm. OK. And what do you think we should do about that?"
"I think we should kill her," Brennan says flatly. "I don't think we've had a lot of luck recently with trying to contain threats, and if pressed, I could make a case that in playing softball, we're only encouraging every lunatic estranged Family member and Lord of Chaos out there to take a pot-shot."
Brennan raises his hands. "But I know there are counter-arguments, so I won't press that larger case. Still, Dara's declared war, which requires a response to my mind, and I can only think of one really good reason not to make the punishment terminal."
"I can think of several. You go first."
"He just left."
"That's really sorta funny. All my brothers hid their kids so that no one would use them as leverage against them. Now we've got a kid who's an argument not to hurt someone." Random stabs the cigarette out in the window frame. "Have you discussed this plan with anyone else?"
"I've mentioned it to select Redheads," Brennan says. "Bleys counseled we take the Brand approach and try to bind her. I see the logic in that position, but at the risk of belaboring my own opinion, I disagree."
Random says, "Hmm. If attempted kinslaying isn't hot-blooded, which is more the norm, since we can be obstreperous bastards all, then it needs to be well thought out. Perhaps even judicially done. Have you considered Corwin, Benedict, Madoc, and Clarissa? What if they're opposed?"
"I have, which is part of why I'm here discussing it, rather than rounding up a half a dozen cousins and going hunting. My thoughts are: Merlin is demonstrably opposed to being reabsorbed by Dara, and I have a hard time thinking Corwin would stand for that.
"I don't know Ben as well as I'd like to, but he hasn't displayed any patriarchal feelings over that branch of the Family. Borel's death doesn't seem to have riled him, nor Dara's misbehaviour. Clarissa has no rational grounds for complaint, given what she did to Aisling, though that never stopped her. Madoc is a cipher, but Caine is making noises about diplomatic contact," Brennan says.
"That may be what Corwin thinks, but he may think there are less extreme measures. I can see him sending flowers. He may think he's got all the time in the world for her to get over Borel. Or not.
"The point is, this is a family thing. Lots of your relatives have a stake here. If you killed Dara while she was attacking us, then fine, that's a thing that people could accept. Otherwise, you're Clarissa ripping Aisling out of the prison.
"If you come back and tell me that Benedict is OK with this and Corwin is helping, that's one thing. Thinking it's OK isn't enough." Random pauses for a moment.
"Consider, for a moment, that Corwin may think that she's his to deal with as he will. If you think you can tread on that Ego lightly, you may find out more than you want about the Temper of the King of Paris."
"She didn't declare war on Paris," Brennan points out.
"But aside from all that, instead of fencing over this, assuming there were no Family concerns for the sake of discussion, what would *your* desire be?"
Random says, "I'm gonna live forever. My desire is 'wait and see', but I'd be wasting both of our time if I didn't listen to you and your point of view. I can make a pretty good case that the weakness that our enemies exploited to almost defeat us in the last war was because we were too ready to attack each other.
"I stood at the abyss and offered reconciliation to my brother who had tried to murder my son. I tried to murder the King of Amber and he made myself and my wife his dinner companions. If Eric had listened to an advisor like you, you'd be telling this to King Bleys right now."
If Eric had had an advisor like Brennan, he'd still be King Eric, Brennan doesn't say. What he does says is, "I'm not convinced that Dara has ever viewed herself as part of Us. She was Brand's ally, and she's continuing his strategy, thwarted only by a tragedy she couldn't have foreseen-- she was going to murder my brother, down there."
"And at the end of the day, Brand spurned you and dragged Deirdre down with him," Brennan says.
"Yeah, but this isn't about who Brand was. It's about who I am."
"Respectfully, Majesty, it's just as much about who Dara is."
"I'm perfectly happy to give you permission to bring her before me to explain herself, but official Random policy is 'no kinslaying.' It's messy. Really. Corwin slew Borel in combat, and look what happened.
"So, just hypothesize for a moment here. What are you going to do if I say 'no'?" Random asks.
Brennan bites down hard for a moment. "I serve at the pleasure of the King." He forces his jaw to unclench and fixes Random with his best green-eyed stare, even going so far as to lean forward from his usual sprawl, just a bit. "But I'm asking for a way to serve-- serve in this regard, this threat. She's not done with Ambrose, yet, I know it. Bringing her back will be harder than simply killing her. If I can do it, what will you do then?"
"I dunno. It depends on circumstances. Moire, for example, once took a punk prince who was under a death sentence and forced him into a marriage. I'll play it by ear," Random says.
Brennan scowls. "You realize she's familiar with Bleys' strategies? She may escalate during the attempt. And if she starts anything before I do, and I'm lucky enough to be in a good position, all bets are off."
Random says, "Two things: Anybody who thinks they know what's in Bleys' trick bag is often in for a surprise. Nobody expects you not to defend yourself, I saw who threw knives through Dara and I didn't complain. But let's make sure it's not 'shot in the back 23 times while trying to escape'. We don't want to kill her, we want to solve her as a problem without that, right?"
"We don't want to kill her. I do," Brennan clarifies. "But I said I serve, and I meant it. I was referring to Bleys' preference for putting his opponents in cold storage. She most certainly knows that, and if she's resolved not to let that happen-- or if she turns the scuffle lethal-- then this conversation doesn't mean a hell of a lot to Corwin, Benedict, and whoever else has an opinion. It's a legitimate question."
Random asks, "If I went hunting for your brother, who was busy licking his wounds back in his ziggurat, and he died, would you care much that my intentions were legal, but that he didn't want to comply with them? Do you think it will matter to Merlin that you didn't mean to kill his mother?"
Random shakes his head. "You may be too invested in your personal objective for me to give you official sanction for doing anything involving Dara."
"If I didn't intend to obey your wishes, I wouldn't have brought the topic up. I didn't ask so I could better subvert your will. I asked so that I know where the lines are drawn. You have my word, for what it's worth, that if I engage, my intent will be capture, not death," Brennan says.
"OK. I'd also recommend touching base with Corwin and Benedict. They're the ones I'd think are most likely to want to know beforehand and who might have reasons to want to tell you 'no'," Random says.
Brennan nods his head in deference. Then he smirks, "You don't play fair. Bad form not to follow the exact same advice I gave Paige isn't it?"
The king chuckles. "They gave you an old printing of the manual if it said 'expect the King to play fair.' What is Merlin gonna go do with the bloodflowers, anyway?"
"Use Sorcery, I'd guess. Hopefully to study them, not to actually use them." Brennan pauses. "For what it's worth, and hopefully it's worth something positive, Ambrose is willing to help take Dara, if that's the way he can best prove his good intentions. No, that wasn't his idea, it was mine. He agreed after raising similar objections."
Random says, "He may be more useful in bringing her in from the cold, as you so aptly put it, than in whacking her with a jagged edged whacking stick."
"He may," Brennan admits. "She's going to have a hard time convincing me she's really reformed, if she even bothers to try. I suppose I'm not the one she needs to convince, though."
"She needs to convince you not to whack her, at least. That's the down side to this being a family matter. It's not like she just has to convince me, or Corwin..."
"And I'm not a forgiving man, by nature," Brennan says. "You realize I'm working under the assumption that she has Corwin's guns, right?"
Random nods.
Brennan shrugs back. "If I had the same mad on that she's got, it'd get real ugly, real fast."
Brennan puts his hands on his knees, as a precursor to standing up. "Oh, and I saw Dworkin again. He repeated his earlier message."
Random looks exasperated. He turns and hops into the window casement, pushing the window open somewhat recklessly. "Yes!" he shouts out the window, then he hops down. "Did he say anything else?"
Brennan watches this display with the utmost placidity. "Right, message received. Not too much else that I could apply immediately. Tir-na still exists, Amber's Pattern could be repaired, standard stuff. For Dworkin."
"I'll ask him about it when I see him. Which I am now sure that I will."
"And one last thing-- any objection if I go down to the Basement?"
"Take a lantern. And don't slip, our insurance was cancelled last month."
"Yes, Majesty."
The morning after the concert, Solange shows up to Lucas's rooms as prearranged. She knocks on the door.
The door is opened by Gaston, Lucas' lugubrious manservant who, somewhat unexpectedly, lays a finger to his lips enjoining silence.
"M'signeur wishes to know if you would care to join him for breakfast on the balcony," he says to Solange, in a near whisper.
"Certainly," Solange replies, sotte voce. "Um...why are we whispering?"
"Madame and the children are still asleep," Gaston responds in hushed tones. He then leads her into the suite that Lucas and his family occupy, through the small dining room and out through the window to the balcony beyond. It's not a vast space, but there is enough room for a small table and a seat at either end. The farther one is occupied by Lucas who is wearing a navy and white striped matelot jersey, sun glasses pushed up and back a la film star (although his hair is, as usual, carefully arranged to conceal the mutilated ear). He rises, and Solange catches a glimpse of navy trousers.
Solange is wearing a white poet's blouse, jeans, and sandals. Her hair is loose.
"Cousin!"
"Please," he says, "join me."
He indicates the chair, and the table set with fruit juice, coffee, warm croissants (she can smell 'em), cereals and coffee.
"Good morning, Lucas," Solange greets him warmly while eyeing the coffee and croissants with something close to rapture. "I missed breakfast."
With a smile she slips into the proffered chair and immediately reaches for the available source of caffeine. "And how are you this beautiful morning? I'm surprised the wee ones are not up."
"They are sleeping the sleep of the infinitely entertained," responds Lucas, offering to pour from the cafetiere. "Solace too, who is not strong at the moment."
Solange gestures to her cup. "Thank you."
"Besides, if they were awake, we tend to breakfast en famille, and the balcony is rather too confined a space for enterprising young Amberites, no matter how beautifully they can behave. And they would be rather bored by our conversation, I feel. They have not yet reached the age where the exchange of information and the concommitant plotting have much interest for them, unless it pertains very directly to their personal hierarchy of needs. Do try a pain au choclat. Gouter has rather a talent for them, I feel."
"Oooo...pastries filled with chocolate, very decadent," she grins, easing one deftly onto her plate with fork and knife. "Perhaps Solace and the children will be up before I leave. Now, about Lord Hardwind and dubious affairs...?"
She adds cream and sugar to her coffee.
The pain au chocolat is perfect - a plug of solid bitter dark cocolate at the centre, melting around its edges into the hot buttery soft pbtisserie.
Lucas is regarding her with some ironic amusement over the rim of his coffee cup.
"So much your father's daughter," he murmurs. "But then it is perhaps only to be expected that my mother's son would indulge in polite small talk before coming to the nub of the matter ...
"Tell me, cos, has your brother ever said anything to you about his investigations into the Paresh?"
"Buisness before pleasure and all that," Solange replies pragmatically. "We can chat awhile first, if you'd rather. I just assumed you would have things to do today and I didn't want to take up any more of your time than necessary."
Lucas waves a neglient hand, indicating he is prepared to bypass the chitchat.
"As to the answer to your question," she continues, "no, not that I recall." She takes a bite of the pastry and makes an appreciative noise.
"The Paresh," says Lucas, "is one of those small doomsday cults that spring up from time to time in Shadow. Unusually, it took hold here in Amber, in some small way. It seemed to specialise in dire prognostications of the doom that was to overtake us all here in Amber. Not just the Sundering, but something even more apocalyptical, apparently."
Her eyebrows raise in sudden recognition, but she doesn't interrupt. She sits back and sips her coffee.
"And interestingly enough, unlike many of these cults, they did not hang around in the belief that one day they would be transported up to whatever they conceived of as Heaven. Instead they packed their bags and got the hell out of Dodge, displaying an unusual level of sensible behaviour for a doomsday cult. An Amberite ship was detailed to follow them ... it went missing. As did their vessel.
"I think I missed some of this being away on trade missions. You might have been away too ...
"At all events, your brother looked into it and reported back that there was nothing too troubling - although it was a mystery at the time where the Paresh got the money to undertake their removal.
"Not," he added, "any more."
"I now remember Vere telling us about them at one of the Council meetings." She pauses. "What does this have to do with my foster uncle?"
"It appears," says Lucas carefully, "that the reason his estate is in such a parlous state is that he had been funnelling funds into the Paresh for some years."
Solange raises her eyebrows. "Interesting. I had no idea he was sympathetic to their cause." She pauses, remembering the night of the coronation and her futile attempts with the guard to keep her foster uncle alive through CPR. "I find it interesting that he, a supporter of their cause, died the day they prophesied Amber would end."
She sets her cup down, forcing the images from her mind and returning to the present. "How much money are we talking about? And how did you find out about it?"
"My belle mere asked me to look into it. Poor Aunt Felicity was being harried by the solictors who wanted to know where Lord Hardwind's money had disappeared to. Opal Hardwind was - with some cause, I fear, suspicious as to what had become of her father's estate and - it must be confessed - her own inheritance. I felt the need was to rescue dear Aunt Felicity, and save her from further irritation."
Though Lucas didn't answer her first question directly, his answer to the second one implies a considerable amount. "Do Aunt Felicity and Opal know about this?" Solange asks.
"I have been reluctant to cause either of them more distress by exposing the ... pecadillos, shall we say? ... of one who was dear to both of them," replies Lucas. "One way to achieve this, it seems to me, is to place them both into positions where the activities of the late Lord Hardwind become of lesser importance to either. Opal Hardwind must learn that the money is lost, and not through her stepmother's carelessness. But she will be offered future prospects that will accord well with her talents and spirit. Aunt Felicity [OOC - a courtesy title that many of those who spent some time in Amber give her] could be protected from the worst of this by being given a new position in a new environment. I have asked my mother to take her as a lady in waiting when she goes to Paris, and the idea has found favour, I believe."
Solange gazes at Lucas appraisingly. "You seem to have taken care of most everything already. I'm grateful, since I was not here to attend to it myself. So...I believe all that's left is straightening out Uncle's accounts, which I'm happy to do. Anything else in regard to this matter?"
Lucas smiles. "You could say I was following your brother's instructions. Even before my belle mere started to ... ah ... importune me in her usual indomitable style, Vere had left me a note inviting me to poke my nose into three matters which he felt needed urgent attention. One resolved itself rather tragically ... the matter of Dame Aisling. A second had already attracted the attention of other people I felt more qualified than myself. The third ... was this.
"As for your uncle's accounts ... " He gives a little shudder. "You are most welcome to them. I'll have Gaston convey them to your rooms. They should not be regarded as ... ah ... light reading."
"Undoubtedly," she sighs. "I'll send for coffee as well."
Last modified: 16 February 2005