The first servant that she sees is collared. "Find me Master TawHiri. The young man who arrived with me. Send him to this corridor I'll be here." If Lucas exits the room next, Celina nods to him pleasantly. "A pleasant surprise, Lucas."
Then she orients on the layout of the palace she recalls from her last visit. A frown crosses her face, but she maps out the nearest mirror of decent size and quality.
Lucas stays with her. "That was fascinating. I hadn't thought every family gathering in Paris would be quite as exciting as my reunions with cher Maman. Can I find you a drink, cousin? Le roi Corwin may have execrable taste in houseguests, but he does keep a well-stocked bar."
"Yes," Celina says, "something strong and sweet and green, please." She pauses at an intersection and ticks off the steps to her goal mentally. No one seems to have changed the furniture or paintings. Celina nods. Does Pattern actually work against aesthetics?
If Lucas leaves to go get the drink, she moves to a large mirror she's been headed towards. If he stays...
Lucas stops a page as he moves through the hall. "Have a bottle of absinthe with the usual accoutrements and two glasses sent up for la Princesse Celina, please. We'll be in the--" he looked to Celina for an answer about their future location.
"In the Flagrante Parlor with the white piano," responds Celina. The choice is her second and the three mirrors there are larger than she needs with minor flaws. But for some reason she does not want to share her first choice with her cousin.
She leads Lucas to the room where the wallpaper compliments her scarlet Parisian boots. "What did you and Moire talk about while waiting, Lucas?" Celina moves about the room judging angles to the mirrors and the stoutness of the furniture around the piano. She doesn't settle and yet doesn't seem bothered by the tension implicit in her eyes. Her poise and gestures are fluid as if working some mathematical problem by dancing compliment around the mundane objects.
Celina is listening hard as Lucas responds despite her calculations.
"A gentleman never tells," Lucas replies with a careless grin. "But I imagine my reputation has preceded me." He's watching her odd behavior with some interest. "She's very interested in the social aspects of court, ta mere. And in Maman's friends Madame Roth and Madame Hardwind."
"That is a bad thing for them, I am sure," Celina says somewhat carelessly. Puzzlement crosses her face as she thinks about Conner, wishing he were here after all. It appears that Moire really did flee with an eye towards nesting in Paris. Conner would have a potent observation and a plan to anticipate matters. She looks at Lucas, remembering his friendly manner at Amber when she was first overwhelmed by everything.
"The queen, my mother, may not have a throne for long. Or may be here for nefarious purpose. Are you prepared to defend the king, Corwin?"
"Defend him how?; that's the question. I doubt I can out-magick the Queen of Rebma, and as dashing a figure as notre oncle le roi cuts, he's not my type." Something of Lucas' habitual sarcasm sloughs off. "But I'll defend him and his Paris, yes, as best I can. What do you want me to do?"
"My dam is one to have plans in place when her main pursuits elude her," Celina feels her way slowly, realizing she is talking to a prince of Amber that may be ten times her age. "With you and your mother here, you have experience to match Moire. And you are not beholden any favors to Moire, as my father may feel he is. I think Corwin is in danger from my mother. She may even be in league with other enemies of Amber. All of this newness and elegance may be at risk." Celina moves very close to Lucas. "I want you to be a prince, gallant and attentive to a beautiful queen who carries her own venom. I want her stinger snipped.
"She will discount you. I do not," Celina says. "If I am right. It will be you that Corwin and I are beholden to."
Lucas breaks into a delighted grin. "Do you suggest, ma cousine, that you wish me to seduce ta mere?"
"Isn't it called that on dryland? My father and your mother will object to this plan." Celina misses his delight for a moment as another thought gallops through prompted by the conversation they are having. "Yes, I want her to think that having a road to your mother and the King's favor is better than having just the possible favor. She considers me a threat for reasons I don't understand, and now I find I am." Corwin did seem certain that he could handle Moire. Celina shakes her head at the idea but pushes on to other inspirations. "Where is Corwin's famous blade, Lucas?"
"Sometimes he wears it, but I don't know where he keeps it when he doesn't have it on. You'd do well to ask Madame Hardwind, I think. She's most likely to have intimate access to his chambers these days." Lucas's grin turns positively feline.
Celina laughs in response to her cousin's pleasure. "Hardwind. Anything else I should know about her before I talk to her?"
"She was our dear cousin Solange's foster-aunt, who fostered her in Amber during notre oncle Gerard's Regency. We're all quite fond of her in our own way. She dotes on Hope and Phillipe," Lucas says, softening a bit. "Maman likes her not at all, of course."
In the Seaward, the ladies you do not like are the ones you are nicest to. Celina ponders Lucas' notion of his mother's wants and likes to no conclusion and moves on. "Cousin, the Lady Dara did you a hurt. I want to scry to see where she lurks and you are the method of reflectance. Will you aid me to undo her as I spy? I'll need the linking image from your eyes."
Celina gestures to the waiting mirrors as if they are waiting eagerly.
"What do I have to do?" Lucas asks Celina, with an air of nonchalance that Celina suspects might not be entirely true.
"You've heard the expression, 'that moment was seared into my mind'? Well, I'm going to do nothing that dramatic. I want your help by you recalling the business with Dara. Then I'll find the image reflected in the surface of your eyes. And then I'll make it reflect in these mirrors. I have several, because she is a fluid being of stolen faces. I'll seek her current image based on her past image." Celina pauses. "There is danger, but with both of us here and she not versed in mirrors, I think we will get some valuable information on what she is about."
Celina now smiles like a predatory cat. "And what's a little danger but spice to heat the water?"
Lucas touches his ear. What was once maimed has partially regrown, but it's still possible to see that he's missing some of the lobe. "An excess of spice in the eye can render you blind. But for a measure of revenge on Dara--" his expression hardens "--I'm willing to chance it."
Celina nods, delighted at the analogy he has used. "Please recall every detail of her attack, associate it to her person as much as you can." She takes his hand and leads him to a place geometrically centered between the three mirrors and his own Takhi center. He's a fin taller than she thought, so she pats him on the head until he bends and his eye is aligned with the reflectant meridian and her own searching vision.
Then she studies the bright surface of his eye. She squeezes his hand in both of hers, timing it to her heartbeat so he will unconsciously pick up her rhythms. She whispers and it becomes musical, like a song for a child near napping already:
"Mirror, mirror, be my seeking,
Heed my will, and let me glean.
In the silver of your hunting,
In the silence of your sheen.
Mirror, mirror, heed my yearning,
For things that I now plea.
Pass my mind through durant turning,
Toward the things I wish to see,
Things I wish to see,
Things I wish to see."
Celina focuses so tightly she sees the room mirrors in Lucas' eyes. She sees her own eyes mirrored deeper still in his. Fathoms of silence and silver open before her like dark watery doorways and she swims deeper seeking the Daramenace and her current motions.
In the depths of Lucas' eyes, Celina sees Dara speaking with a woman, one who is clearly not Meg. She is dark-skinned and dark-haired and, for all that she's clearly a landswoman, she has something of the Rebman sense of dress. They're in a stone room with carvings of a sort unfamiliar to Celina.
The other woman, the one who is neither Dara nor Meg, seems to sense the scrying after a moment of talk. She raises her hand and a burst of flame seems to come from it, and then there is smoke in the depths of Lucas' eyes, and he doubles, clawing at them.
Celina dashes to the doorway as a page enters with a liquor cart fully equipped of varieties. Her hands grab the ice bucket and toss the champagne bottle on the sofa. Back to Lucas in a flash, she pulls his hands immediately to the crushed ice and helps him press it to his face.
She murmurs a cleansing wash of the mirrors.
Lucas puts the ice to his closed eyes and it melts rapidly. A second handful melts more slowly, and a third still more slowly than that. Then Lucas begins blinking and trying to focus on Celina. "I can't see yet," he says, although he sounds as if he expects it to change. "What in God's name did Dara do this time?"
"Dara had an ally present who felt the watching," Celina responds. "Dara didn't seem aware of our view. And whatever they were doing together, the immediate response was to try and blind us for scrying them. So we should find out who Dara is working with and what violence is planned." She kisses his wet hand. "Thank you. I think you have given the Chaosi something to worry about."
"There's a Pattern here," Lucas growls, sounding half-angry and half merely petulant. "How the Devil did she manage to get her sorcery through that?"
"The same way we saw her," Celina responds. "Mirrors tension space, aligning and attracting places that are distant and dissimilar. You took a fraction of the killing blow through the compressive tension of the medium. The sorcery did not touch you but the ripple effect is dangerous still." Celina gives him a spontaneous hug, a reflex to his petulance perhaps. "These sort of dangers are usually called 'mirror bite'. Flaws in a mirror will amplify the bite."
She goes to the cart and brings back a white linen napkin to dab at the water drops on his cheeks and chin. "You should recover quickly. Did you see your attacker? Recognize her?" Celina describes the dark-skinned woman counting on Lucas' greater knowledge of cultures and shadows to suggest Dara's possible location.
Lucas shakes his head to the question about whether or not he saw the attacker. "I've heard of shadows where the people look like that, but that connasse? I don't know her. I hope I will next time, though." His eyes narrow slightly and then he blinks again, which spoils the effect.
Celina's face goes hot. She's not sure what he's called the woman and cannot bring herself to ask, but something in her gut knows she would not want to be on the receiving end of the remark. She spends a half moment wondering how it is that Thari seems to make other languages divulge their secrets over time.
"Next time," She agrees. "Let's find Madame Hardwind." She slips her arm through his, not because she doesn't think he can make his way half-sighted, but because she thinks he will enjoy the stroll more.
"Cousine, I am afraid my current state of impairment prevents me from accompanying you. I am quite overcome. I shall need to return to my chambers and rest until I am quite able to see again. Solace can send a note of introduction if you are in need of such."
He leads her in the direction of the family quarters.
Celina covers her surprise that a royal of Amber could admit a weakness. She nods and follows as Lucas leads out of a sense of decorum. But a few corridors later, she is reconsidering swiftly.
Is he trying to sideline her in a tucked away spot? What sort of secret delight was Lucas sharing with Moire when they returned to the room. Should she be so far from Moire when Corwin promised he would include her in part of the conversation?
The current dances dangerously and Celina knows there are rocks beneath the swells. Celina waits until Lucas has arrived in the family quarters and she knows he is delivered to a place he can pause and regather himself before she interrupts lest he can invite her to hospitality. "Cousin, allow that I now recall an understanding with my father to wait on his conversation with Moire. In my worry for your composure, I feel I've wandered too far from the front lines."
The Seaward Cousin curtsies. "I'll leave you with thanks and a promise to enjoy your hosting later still. Please be well and thank you for your courage and aid."
Celina makes her way back to the waiting room where she left Moire and Corwin and the others. The room is empty, but there is a bellpull, and she is able to summon several pages to obtain food and water, and to request any information she wishes.
Celina works the bellpull and has gathered her thoughts by the time a page arrives. Food and water are first, and in the process of ordering food, she adds to the menu expecting more people to arrive shortly. She requests fine paper and writing instruments. She's very hungry by the time she sends the youngster on; so once again to the bellpull.
The next page is sent looking for TawHiri, and the next page delivers a friendly note to Alice Roth. And then she's writing a calligraphic note to Lady Hardwind.
'Greetings Lady Hardwind
Celina of the Seaward asks if you might meet me in the parlor west of the corridor of three mirrors. I am freshly arrived in Paris and desire to make your acquaintance.If this is inconvenient, I look forward to spending time with you on my next visit for I wish to share wise news with you.
yrs
Lady Celina'
The three notes are sent off.
Soon, there is word that Taw'Hiri will join Lady Celina once he has shaken the dust of travel from his feet. This is not, Celina suspects, his wording.
Next, there is word that Alice will join her when she finishes her current duties.
And then, much later, after most of the repast has been brought, there is a note from Lady Hardwind. Celina expects the others soon. The page looks as though he has been out into the city, which might explain why the message has taken so long.
Dear Lady Seaward,
It would be my pleasure to join you at the palace this evening. I will join you as soon as I can; the messenger will only be a quarter-glass ahead of me.
Yr obdt svt,
Felicity Hardwind
While Celina is reading the note, there's a knock at the door, and the page permits Alice Roth to enter.
"Celina," Alice says, and comes to her with arms outstretched. "It's good to see you back. Bill said that we had all sorts of visitors, but I hadn't realized you were with the party."
"Oh, Alice," Celina closes off any other words and just throws her arms around Bill's wife. The physical clasp helps at several levels. Celina enjoys it as long as possible.
Then in quiet whispers, Celina fills Alice in on her hasty arrival by autocycle and sidecar, including the interception of Moire and Lancelot standing in as escort. Celina does not hesitate to warn Alice to steer defensively regards the former queen of Rebma.
And asks, "What can you tell me about Felicity Hardwind? Is she a woman of stamina?"
From where she settled on the couch next to Celina, Alice gives Celina a sidelong look. "Stamina?" she says, sounding less suspicious than confused.
Celina reads the confusion and mulls her question. "Stamina. Is she...durant. Steadfast." Celina tries to remember the way Bill talked when in Rebma. "Is she very good at handling herself? Against someone like my mother? I feel she could be in danger if Moire sets her eye on Corwin."
"Oh. Oh! I see!" Alice sounds a bit relieved, as if she'd considered another meaning she didn't want to talk about and found out that wasn't what Celina meant at all. "Felicity acts as though she's helpless, but she's like an old Southern gal. There's an iron fist under that velvet glove. And she's the foster-aunt of Gerard's daughter, so she's not completely unprotected."
"Oh," Celina thinks hard about the last months but comes up with nothing regarding Gerard's daughter. "That would be which of my cousins, Alice?"
"Solange. Felicity's sister Grace was Solange's foster-mother. Felicity's a recent widow--her husband died during the Coronation festivities." Alice's lips press together as if she's holding back a comment about Corwin's method of comforting the widow. "Your father might know where Solange is if you want to speak with her."
"Yes, Solange. Helpful when I was fresh to the family. And Corwin might have a Trump of her." Celina speaks aloud as a kind of courtesy and respect to Alice. Celina makes an assumption about 'old Southern gal' having nothing to do with Chaos and the troubles there. Alice must be speaking of her own shadow. Alice's reaction combined with Lucas' feline hints suggest Felicity might be well-enough off should Dara come this way. But would she do so well against Moire?
Celina sighs thinking about how much she doesn't know a fin's thickness about. Martin insisted there was no other path but the hardest one. "Be careful with Moire, Alice. And share that with any friend who thinks a queen absent her throne is without a fierce agenda." She pats Alice's hand and squeezes it. "I fear I'll be leaving soon having delivered my small warning." Celina tries to make the wait for events fill the gaps. "How goes my father's illumination of Paris? Do you prosper here? It seems so."
"Moire reminds me of the wife of the senior partner of Bill's firm. He ended up appointed to the State Supreme Court and it was all because she knew the right people. No offense," Alice adds hastily. "But I'll tell her what you've said."
Her expression lightens a bit at the change of subject."Things are going very well. Paris just keeps growing. I think it's physically bigger than it was the last time you were here. I'm not sure how it happened, because I know they can't have built all those buildings in such a short time. It's so beautiful at night, with the lights lit along the boulevards and the smell of cherry blossoms."
Alice's words conjure longing in Celina. These are things she would like to see. But there is no time now. She has to hope there will be cherry blossoms later.
"It sounds wonderful," Celina says. "I hope to visit here more often some day." She sighs. "But Moire will be here a while, I think if things fall out as I expect with Father. So I'm not sure of anything right now. It could be that Rebma will need something from me for a while."
Celina manages to not think about Khela more than a fraction of a second.
Then she begins to chat about what Bill might be up to these days.
They discuss Bill and affairs of court for a time, and then there is a knock on the door. Alice goes to answer it, taking the role of hostess naturally. There are noises of ritual greeting as the newcomer enters. She is an older woman with dark hair and eyes, well-dressed in dark colors. Her clothes speak of shabby gentility.
Alice brings her over to Celina. "Celina, this is Felicity Hardwind. Felicity, this is Celina, who is King Corwin's daughter."
Celina rises with a smile. Her memory flashes back to aristo families who held the Seaward together even though they were borderline destroyed themselves by the War. Always dressing to the nines, each day in the hospitals seeing after the soldiers wounded. As a girl, learning where she could help; learning about slow death from Black Wounds, she had admired those women a lot. Celina feels much closer to Felicity because of the parallel. "Very pleased to meet you, Lady Hardwind. Thank you for coming to see me." She bobs a curtsy.
"You're welcome, Your Highness." Felicity chooses the most respectful of the options she could use to address Celina, and makes a courtesy of her own after the Amber fashion.
Alice says, "I have a couple of things I need to get after, so I should probably be going, unless you need me ...?" It's a reasonably transparent excuse to give Celina and Felicity privacy, and Alice looks to Celina to see what the younger woman wants.
"Thank you for being here, Alice," Celina says, "and let Bill know I was thinking of him."
And when Alice withdraws...
"You may call me Celina. I have no official position in Paris." Celina motions Lady Hardwind to a seat and makes herself comfortable nearest her guest. Her body language fits the chair with supple relaxation---a pose to put Felicity at some ease.
Felicity is graciously formal, as befits the presence of the King's daughter, even one who has no official title.
"I don't know you, Lady, but I have a concern for you. It would be a favor if you forgive my treading where you need not abide my interest." Celina pauses with respect. Felicity might show by some sign she's not interested.
It is obvious that Celina is trying to make the best of a delicate situation.
"I'm not quite sure I know how I could have aroused your interest," Felicity says, and Celina intuits that she's got a better guess than she's trying to let on, but she's waiting to see what to Celina has to say.
Aroused? Celina is not allergic to irony. She smiles and decides that an honest Seaward discussion about bed politics is highly unlikely. "My father's happiness with you at his court puts you in a favorable light with me as well." She pauses. "It also puts you in some danger from those who would have my father regard themselves higher than you. Such a person has arrived in Paris. My mother, Moire."
Felicity's face is a courtly blank. She would have done well in Rebma, Celina thinks. "I appreciate your warning, lady, but surely a great Queen such as your mother cannot be threatened by a lowly courtier such as myself." Her voice sounds as if she means this to be as much prescriptive as descriptive.
"I have found my mother to be capable of things beyond my understanding," Celina's voice is lower now, almost a whisper. She has the idea this will hide any pain that might leak through her words. "I see nothing lowly in a courtier that has the high regard of my father and Alice. And I firmly believe that Moire would make a demonstration to settle herself in Paris, if that is her ultimate intention." Celina looks at Felicity and regrets she may never know the lady better. "So I hope my warning is never found useful."
Felicity's breath catches. "What kind of 'demonstration'?"
Celina looks a bit withdrawn but it is because of the distress she is causing Felicity. "My understanding of her is not up to the task of telling you that, but my fear shared may be you used to do my father harm or reveal a vulnerability of the court. It would look like your own action and you would probably not be able to show your face in the realm, even if father did not believe you had intended the results." Celina adds, "My mother is quite adroit at sculpting public opinion. You should not wish to be graven to her purpose. It would be the best lesson she might have, that she might stand close to Corwin when other women fail him.
"It's a warning, Felicity," Celina says softly, "I'm making plain my fear, not my understanding. Please just be careful and we need not make it more gruesome by dissecting the dreads I carry." Celina takes her hands. "Be extra wary, yes? Rely on Alice and Bill and Lance."
"I will," says Felicity. Her courtier's expression has shifted a bit, but her true feelings are hidden behind the mask. "Do you think she means to settle here permanently? What of Rebma?"
"Indeed," Celina moves smoothly to the shift of discussion to larger issues, "what of Rebma? It has survived the reflection of turmoil in Amber, but will it prosper? That matter is still unfurling. I do not know where it leads. I believe I have a part in it, but the water isn't clear."
Celina suddenly shifts the topic to something more personal, excited curiosity in her voice, "Does Corwin speak of Rebma? Do you know much of it yourself?"
Felicity shakes her head slightly. "I know what any woman raised in Amber knows of Rebma, and I'm sure half of that is wrong or exaggerated. And I know nothing of what happened there after the Sundering, save what's been mentioned by the King and his household in passing. The King does not speak of foreign affairs to me."
Of course. Celina notches herself down a mark for even thinking a king would share politics with his bedmate. She tries to politely cover with Felicity. "Ah yes, I'm from Seaward and sometimes I just don't have a seal's whisker of an idea how affairs are properly conducted within the royal line." She pauses and goes on because it might actually matter. "Moire is running from Rebma because a claim is being made on the throne by Khela, who is Llewella's daughter. Events suggest that Llewella and Moire had some understanding as to Moire sitting the throne. There is no such understanding between Moire and Khela. And Moire apparently expects Khela's claim to show merit."
There is more Celina might say, but she cannot. Too many unknowns. "So Moire is here with some prepared plan to make a place for herself. She has Corwin's ear right now. I wait to see what develops. Then I go back to Rebma."
"While Moire is here to seek aid from the King." Felicity's eyes narrow a bit. "Is this a matter of ... royal magics?"
"Most certainly," Celina says promptly. "Do you think something is amiss? Would you be worried about a sword? Or something else?"
"That is a thing your father and I don't discuss. But I am aware that he has concerns. That he feels things are amiss. Nothing's wrong in Paris, Lady Celina, so what else could it be?" Felicity frowns a little. "It reminds me sometimes of the times when your grandfather was troubled, toward the end of his reign."
Celina doesn't even remember seeing a painting of the famous king that was her grandfather. But a shiver works her spine. "What reminds you? Does father have trouble sleeping? Is it only expressions you see on his face when he is less guarded? Any specific feeling you could share that I might carry some of your burden? I was only a child in a distant country, so I'm not sure what I'm asking."
"Just the ... uncertainty of things. Under Oberon, all was certain. Now, things are less sure. Or have not become more sure, for all that they are hopeful." She pauses to think, or perhaps to look for the right words. "They aren't so grim as they were during the Regency in Amber, don't get me wrong, but ... I think your father worries."
Celina stops herself from answering the truth. She selects something true but easier to say. "I worry as well. I hope that his concerns prove good defense against the dark things opposing the Family."
And having rounded the conversation and delivered warnings galore, she tries to learn a bit more about this singularly important woman. "So is your family doing well?"
Felicity talks for some time about her brother-in-law, whom Celina learns is travelling with Vere, and Celina's cousin Solange, who was fostered with Felicity and her late husband. After some time spent in polite discussion, Corwin is announced, and enters the room.
"Celina, Felicity," he says. Celina may note that Felicity starts to rise but subsides as Corwin makes a gesture to her to stay in her seat. He stops beside Felicity and puts his hand on her arm for a moment. "I'm glad you two have met and are getting along well. Alice has arranged everything to your satisfaction, Celina?"
"Yes, Alice has been taking care of me quite well, as usual," Celina responds. "And Lady Felicity has been bringing me up to swim on Family doings." She does not pause but her tone changes to something less polite in its hidden energies. "Are you well, father? Is Moire's news very bad?"
"Moire's news is, as always, interesting." He strokes Felicity's arm lightly, then releases her and moves to the sidebar. "I had some things to tell her that she didn't like, too. And in the middle of it, I took a trump call from your cousin Vere."
It seems from his casual tone that Felicity is more in Corwin's confidence than she was willing to let on.
"Would you like a drink, Celina?" He appears to be preparing two: one for himself and one for Felicity.
"Yes, ginger and something stiff," Celina says thinking of Jerod and hoping he is well. "Is Vere doing well? Was he calling from Amber? Do you need to know anything from me?"
"Vere is en route to Rebma, it looks like. The shadow he hails from is collapsing. Too many people have tampered with it too often." Corwin appears to be preparing a ginger drink of the sort Jerod made for Celina. "I offered his people, the ones who shouldn't go into a war zone, a temporary refuge here, given the situation in Rebma. I doubted either you or your mother would appreciate him walking into Rebma at this juncture. But he's got an army with him and Rebma is his ultimate destination."
He turns to bring the drinks to Felicity and Celina.
Celina has a strong reaction to 'home shadows collapsing', though she tries to keep a calm face. It isn't so long ago that she was with friends growing up in the Seaward. That is home. Home should not be subject to folding up and disappearing because of too much meddling. But tampering is actually most of what she is now. That doesn't surface in her eyes, but the worry about Vere is there.
"Offering refuge is very kind of you, father," Celina says, not knowing whether this is gauche or not. She doesn't really care if it is. "Is this army of Vere's connected to Rebma? Or has he been called there by someone?"
"He recruited in Rebma. His home is a matriarchy, so culturally it reflects Rebma more than Amber." Corwin hands Felicity her drink and offers a fizzing concoction to Celina.
"When he was looking for an army to defeat his mother's enemies, he found it a congenial recruiting ground, since the Black Trench Wars were over and the soldiers had nothing to do. Or so we thought."
Felicity says nothing and sips from her drink.
Celina sniffs at hers. Enjoys the subtle ginger aroma and sips. Merlin. Jerod. Connor. Vere. And Rebma. Such strong landmarks in her current troubled ocean. Celina feels the need to return to Rebma sooner rather than later. Would it be wise to be gone before Vere arrives? She recalls the excitement of talking to Vere in a quiet library.
Celina looks at her father over the rim of her next sip of fizz. "So Mother then, is she staying here?"
Corwin looks at Felicity rather than Celina as he seats himself on the sofa. "For the time being, yes. At least until things are more settled in Rebma." There's something vaguely apologetic in his tone.
He turns back to Celina before continuing. "I think she wants to see who's going to have nine-tenths of the law there before she decides to contest with the remaining tenth."
"What an interesting strategy," Celina says with cool air. "I suppose that I take after my father in nearly all things." She samples her drink again, the fingers of her other hand tapping away on her leg. When Celina sees the agitation a moment later, she stops it.
"Then it is probable that I should be going sooner rather than later." But she obviously intends to finish her drink.
"Are you going to contest for the throne?" Corwin asks bluntly.
Felicity covers her mouth with her hand for a moment.
Celina nearly responds with a bark of laughter but her manners stop the thought from ever getting to her muscles. This is serious business now.
"Will Moire make the throne a contest? I realize you can't speak for her. It is natural to suppose that question would follow my voicing how much I am like you, isn't it? You tried to take Amber's throne. And now you are the throne of Paris." Celina adds a twist, "Or are you asking if I will contest with Khela, who is a queen but for sitting the throne?"
"Either or both," Corwin replies. "Part of the family game is identifying the other players."
Felicity rises from her seat and looks to Celina. "If I may be excused--" she says smoothly, as if she does not expect to be denied but is aware she may be anyway.
Celina makes a mercurial shift, smoothly rising to take Felicity's hand with a pleasant smile. "Thank you so much for coming to see me. If I can, I'll be back to Paris to enjoy some of the sights and visit. Good days to you until then."
Corwin rises with both of them
Felicity looks relieved. "Good luck to you as well. And thank you." She starts to make her way out of the room. Corwin joins her and walks her there, taking the opportunity to say something low to her that Celina doesn't quite catch. At the door, he draws her near for a moment, but there's nothing improper in it by Celina's standards.
When he has seen Felicity out, Corwin returns to the sitting area where he left Celina.
Celina waits until she and Corwin are alone again. "Paris is healthy and you are warned. So I should be going. I'll answer your question if you answer mine. What is Moire doing in Paris?"
"Your mother is--bide. Someone has damnable timing." Corwin is getting the distant look in his eyes that Celina is learning to associate with trump contacts. "Who is it?"
Celina waits. This will probably be interesting.
"Is it an emergency?" Corwin asks.
A beat pause.
Celina's unease that Merlin may be calling with a problem draws her much closer to Corwin. Her fingers twine restless with desire to touch Corwin's hand but she holds herself in polite manner waiting to be included or dismissed.
Corwin's eyes widen a little. "Who's dead? Come through if you have a means of getting back." He extends his hand to whoever is trumping him.
Too much emotion too quickly. Khela. Conner. Merlin. Dead? Celina's hand darts forward without thought of permission now. She joins into the contact by gripping Corwin's hand strongly.
Last modified: 26 December 2008