The Voices

Petra: Day 1, Part 6

2007-04-28T23:14:05Z

The Ambassador has only recently departed. I find that I simply do not have the vocabulary sufficent to express my true reaction to the information he imparted.

Catastrofico.....è certo.

There is no other way for it when the relisgious fanatic Duke Helgram wishes to see all manifestations of the Pattern destroyed. The estimated loss is too staggering too fully contemplate. I cannot help but feel that this includes all the surviving line of Dworkin, Pattern imprinted or not. Father did mention once that something was because of the "Pattern in your blood", and I have not been imprinted.

I have no idea what can be done. I will have to start passing the word of this around immedietly. I am torn on where to start. With those that weild the Pattern, certainly. Larissa seems to have a higher imprint them most, so I think, perhaps, I will start with her.

Should I inform Merlin? He is, afterall, the King. He is also still down from this morning, I believe. But he is a Pattern Initiate, so he will need to be warned. Morgan is closer to the King, but he and I have not had a dozen serious words between us in the decades we have known one another.

It comes to me that off all of my generation known to me, Vikund and I may be the only ones that have not taken the Pattern. We will likely be the last Helgram comes for, but are also the ones with the weakest defense. I will need to call him as soon as I can find a moment as well... and remember to not take the opportunity to throttle him. That can wait. Though hopefully by the time I have the spare minute to strangle him, we will have gotten passed all this, and be able to look back on it all and laugh.

I will need to let Julian know. I have already had more contact with him in one day then I have in the years previous. But he will be able to pass it on to the rest of his siblings, including Llewella. She should be warned that Helgram will be descending on Rebma in two days time to investigate their Pattern, assuming it is still intact. I believe that it is likely that it is. How else would Rebma still be in existance? What will happen should Helgram decide to take the opportunity to destroy it, assuming he knows how to do such a thing, and they have no warning?

Many have believed that Tir's continued existence is proof that the Pattern there is still intact. Why else would Mandor guard it so heavily? Getting access to it has become rather more urgent for me now. I do not think I can afford to wait for Father to work out a way to get me there.

Which brings me to Mandor. The Ambassador leads me to believe that destroying Mandor's power base is part of why Helgram wishes to destroy the Pattern manifestations. The Embassy did not necessarily want Mandor told, but he needs to be. Ingrey even agreed on that. It would put us and him on the same side for a change, and Mandor is in a better position Power wise to fight this Chaos Lord. But Mandor is not a man I wish to give something for nothing.

I know my price. The problem is: will he be willing to pay it? This information is something that he needs regardless. Of course, he would get it eventually without me, but the sooner he has it, the sooner he may prepare.

I wonder.... would the young Baroness Helgram be of any use in this?

A question for one of those who know her better, surely.

And a question for another time. If I am to get anything done, I must go to the castle now and seek out Larissa....and possibly Mandor.

Petra, Day 1, Part 5

2007-04-28T16:47:13Z

It has, as the saying goes, been one thing after another.

The staff that had been recruited to accompany people back to the castle all finally returned. Dawn was unusually subdued when she came in while I was speaking with Goran. That should have been taken for the ominous sign that was.

Bleys sent payment for his tab. He is expecting to be away for a time and wished to settle his bill. The timing, of course, is obviously suspect. The timing of everything is suspect.

Goran reported that his wound from the morning's fiasco has simply vanished. Not healed, just .... disappeared. As if it were never there. He did mention this to Bleys, who suspects sorcery was involved. But even I suspected that once the excitement died down for five minutes.

We tossed around various theories, but that is all they really are: Theories. We may never know the real story behind the events of the morning. The things I can be sure certain of are that Johann was set up, and then he was betrayed.

I have sent Goran out to the docks, to speak with the survivors of the fires. It is good business sense to assist the rebuilding of at least the Greasy Spoon. Perhaps more. The entire area would make a good Urban Renewal project, I think. We will see after Goran speaks with them.

Dawn's behavior was explained when I went to speak with her. She has resigned from the Queen. She does not think she can fulfill her duties anymore and ". But Damien... I don't know what he will do or what to make of him. Frankly, I never want to meet his kind again". The letter she gave me was very obviously not composed by her. After all the years-and money-I have invested her, I am furious that she leaves now. Now, when things are starting to heat up, when we will more then likely need a highly trained physician onboard. I may strangle Vikund for this. I have no choice but to fetch one from Cornaro. I may as well bring Dante in from Lombardi, as he has been given training similiar to Dawn. I believe having the physician among Security will be better for all concerned. Although, to be honest, Dante may be a bit distracting. He is astonishingly lovely to look upon.

Just as I am going to inform Vincenzo of this latest development, Islain choses that moment to call. But we prepped and primped her and sent her off. I gave her an 'escape trump' that will take her to one of my offices if she needs it. I did promise Julian I would give her Sanctuary, and I suspect the Queen may be among the first places they searched for her if things reached the point that she required such a thing.

Vincenzo was enough of a professional to not gloat when I told him I did not intend to offer another spot on the staff to another of Vikund's girls. I do not have the time to see another trained, much less the luxury of waiting for them to integrate into the staff. Granted, many never did truly trust Dawn. But that was to be expected. They knew the circumstances behind her employment.

He did slip into his mentor role and remind me that it was only a matter of time before I was elevated to Head of an Ancient House, and the responsibilities of that position. Even if it is not in Amber. It is still my home.

When he returned, he was bearing a ring that she had been avoiding wearing for years. Without a word, he took her hand and slipped it on. "To remind you, Marchesa," he said sternly. "Do not take it off again. "Non
dimenticare mai."

Petra looked down at the dully glittering signet of Rossini. "Si, Zito. Ho dimenticato me stesso."

I have been lax, grown soft just as he said. I can no longer ignore it. I have things to do in more places the one. Many of them intersect.

I am now waiting the arrival of the Chaosian Diplomat. He sent a messanger, requesting an audience. It has Vincenzo and I both very curious. The message was both vague and slightly ominous.

This is one of those days I desperately wish Nicco were here.

Project X-A Midsummer Night 1095 [a backstory]

2007-04-28T15:08:17Z

It was a pleasant evening in Amber. The cool breeze from the sea won its battle with the summer heat once the sun went down, and the residents of Kolvir breathed a sigh of relief. As did several members of the Royal family, but for a different reason: yet another Family dinner out of the way. It had been a tense affair for several people; the normally engaging daughter of Benedict had not said more then a dozen words the entire night, no matter how Gerard had tried to engage her, and he was her favorite uncle by all accounts. Julian had been unusually terse to everyone, even for him. Flora was even a bit snippy.

Many of them, Morgan knew, had last been seen heading for the gardens to enjoy the cool evening breeze and an after dinner drink. He had seen Antonia stalking off in that direction as well. Only she hadn't been carrying a drink. She had been handed a 12-string guitar by a page on her way out.

Morgan had done his best throughout the dinner, to be gregarious, even if it meant talking or joking primarily with Gerard. His Father, who had disappeared about a year after Morgan's arrival in Amber, sat blinded in the
dungeons. It had been a difficult time for the Son of Corwin, who had been left to the care of his Family. Corwin had been gone for nearly ten years, no one had been able to find him, his Trump did not even work. Even though Morgan had been born the son of the great Sorcerer Corwin in Avalon, by the time his Father returned at the head of a navy and an army, he was not sure what to think of the man that had been his Father. As the Sorcerer he had not been unkind, but Morgan would never accuse his Father of an overabundance of kindness. Morgan had worked with his Uncles, and he remembered it was Gerard that had told him Corwin had returned. Morgan had abstained from the fighting, though he helped with his other skills...he was not at Court when his Father was mocked, and then deprived of his eyes --- he still had trouble meeting Julian's because of it. He did not know if Julian wielded the pokers, but he knew Julian had been there. Despite all that, Morgan remained in Amber, and for this dinner anyway, managed a positive front...when nobody else was.

He noticed Antonia and her Guitar, and went up to the balcony where he sometimes played and retrieved his Flamenco 6-string, finding it mildly amusing that he had half the strings. Then he went out into the Gardens, quietly strumming a soft tune, looking for Antonia. His mood had faded with the end of the dinner, everyone's departure reminding him of Corwin's Curse.

His relatives had scattered to various parts of the gardens. But Morgan had been there plenty long enough to know, that since Benedict's departure thirteen years ago, she tended to favor her father's oriental gardens when she took to this part of the grounds. Indeed, as he headed further in that direction, he could pick up the strains of her 12 string trilling rapidly through a complicated series of warm up scales that only another player of the Latin guitar style would even recognize for what they were. No doubt anyone else listening just thought it an amazingly complicated piece of music.

Julian and Gerard were just outside Benedict's garden. Julian was skulking off in the shadows, but Gerard was quite obviously listening to his niece play while he puffed on an after dinner cigar.

Morgan noticed Julian and stopped where he was. He knew Antonia could hear him from there, and he hesitated to disturb that group, but mostly because Julian made him -- uneasy. Poor scary, stupid Julian. Everyone knew that
he and Antonia were into each other, one didn't have to be a chivalric bard to see that -- which Morgan was. Corwin and Shadow had adjusted his language somewhat, but a thee and thou slipped out from time to time. He shook his head, he'd not be orbiting Antonia if he just liked her.

He wandered closer, moving slowly around flowers and beside hedges. He listened for Antonia's guitar, waiting for a place for the sound of his 6-string to enter...and when her heard it, he played a quick and complicated Cante Jondo, the deep song, was the literal translation for its type. Morgan knew it was old, and simply perfect for his instrument. It was a powerful rhythm, the notes played clear and perfect, plucked from the strings passionately, with Morgan's fingertips, and nails kept slightly long just for this purpose. To the listener, it was like a profound secret, carried on the wind, mingling with the soft murmuring sounds of the breeze through the leaves and the songs of the nightbirds. In the midst of the beginning of the Cante, Morgan had already forgotten his worries.

She sat on the top step of Benedict's pagoda and presented quite the study of anachronisms in her Italian Renaissance gown of deep purple on the steps of the crimson Oriental pavilion, holding a guitar, with a swept hilt rapier laying within easy reach. She often came out here alone at night, or when she was troubled or tense. It was calming in the same way her father's presence had come to be over the years. And sometimes, dear God, did she need calming. Even when she tried, she could hardly be in the same room as Julian for five minutes without one of them snapping like a dry twig these days. Flora and Eric had long since stopped trying to find out what the issue was between the two. Antonia wasn't talking, though her father did know, and rather suspected Gerard had known for a lot longer then most people would credit him for. But Julian? Dense as a redwood.

Antonia looked up, towards the source of the familiar music. She knew there were several guitar players among the relatives, but she couldn't identify who this was yet. Her fingers moved in response to the familiar Cante with an ornate melodic embellishment of the first. She had quickly fallen in love with flamenco when she was first exposed to it. Both the unrestrained passion of the dance, and the naked, spine tingling emotion of the music. It had taken some effort to transpose some of it to her guitar's extended range, but it wasn't like she didn't have the time.

Morgan had little worries as he played. That was one of the primary reasons that he DID play. It made so much simply fall away, disappear, and become inconsequential. For the moment, he just played, and listened, and smiled when Antonia responded in kind. He grinned at her instruments range, and how well she danced across it. He played with her, as easily as he would if they had played together for years...they both knew the genre, and it was plain in how his higher notes joined with her deeper ones. Morgan was grinning ear to ear, and he knew it. He followed her embellishment with a transition into Petenera...dashing out the notes to what some called the "Ruin of Men", because the women that danced to it were so seductive. His fingers flew across the strings, the notes sharp and pure and crystalline...if Morgan had ever had a better time in Amber, anyone catching sight of him would not have believed it. He was standing, his eyes closed, a wide grin on his face, his head tilted back as if watching something unseen in his mind.

He heard Antonia's laugh dancing over the music as her guitar provided to the tune inspired by the cantaora , "La Petenera", the seductive woman who used her allure to trap many a married man and sow dissention all over town. The heels of her shoes tapped out the sharp rhythmic accompaniment usually provided by the dancers' stomping. Antonia had come to the garden to calm down and play out her frustrations and had instead discovered something even better. When the piece ended, she led the transition into a lush arrangement of Dos Valses Venezolanos.

"Come out!" she called over the music. "Stop lurking in the bushes like some illicit lover hiding from a husband!"

She heard Gerard's booming laugh close by, but she knew it wasn't him she had been playing with. His fingers just weren't made for the nimble runs of her unseen partner.

Morgan grinned when he heard Antonia's laugh, and knew that she recognized the song. He should not have been surprised, considering how and what she played, but it pleased him to no end. She had picked another favorite of his, and he was finding hard to resist not falling into step and supporting her song. He chuckled when she called out, and since that part of the game was over, he walked out into view, almost dancing...and slipped into a space in her tune with Fandangos del Malaga, plucking out the notes with swiftly moving fingers as he grinned and slowly walked towards Antonia. Morgan was almost laughing by the time he was in arms reach, but he never stopped playing, not until they both reached the end of their songs. The last notes of his guitar carried lightly through the garden, mingling with Antonia's... somehow both working together.

Antonia's guitar was beautiful, and had obviously been made for her specifically: the wood was pale, almost white. The rosette ring was a simple purple ring banded with silver. Black roses of inlaid wood highlighted in silver curved gently up around the bottom of the sound hole, obscuring part of the rosette band. The frets were bands of purple heartwood on the same pale wood, the tuning pegs were carved of a black wood and made to look like rosebuds.

"Ah, Morgan," she laughed as the final notes of their songs were still fading in the air. "You have been hiding your light under a bushel all this time, no?"

Morgan's guitar was, perhaps not surprisingly, black and silver...the strings shimmered as they vibrated. It was an elegant design, well worn, and well loved. He whistled as he got a close look at Antonia's 12-String. He was smiling, and his hand rested on his guitar, just below the silvery strings. He laughed softly at Antonia's words.

"Oh, I played...but every time I tried...someone would ask me to play Dad's Ballad...that wears thin after the first hundred times." He smiled slightly, "I was a trained Bard back in Avalon...before it --" Morgan shrugged uncomfortably. "--it went poof." His smile returned easily, "Dad took me to a few places...I picked this up in one of them, and haven't stopped since. "And not everyone is a music lover." He smiled winningly at Antonia, and playfully strummed his strings. "You're amazing...on 12-strings no less!"

"Ah," she responded with an embarrassed wave of her strumming hand. "The man who taught me, he said he always wanted to play one of these but he had not the fingers for it." She held up a long fingered, slender hand. "But I do. So, he insisted." She smiled. "I do not often argue with a superior officer when he is determined, and it made him happy, so it was a small price to pay, si? Plus, it got me out of certain field duties. 'No! Martire will not be chopping or digging anything! She could damage her hands!"

"And you are not so bad yourself, hampered as you are by six strings short of perfection." She grinned and waved towards the steps beside her. "Come. Sit." Antonia gestured with a tilt of her chin towards the greater gardens and whispered. "And there are more music lovers around then admit to it. They just do not want you to know they are enjoying it."

Morgan chuckled, "I was a Troubadour in Avalon...a kind of Bard...even then Dad had a fondness for things French, whether he knew it or not." He smiled wistfully, "As the Son of the Sorcerer, I did not have many chopping and digging chores, but sword-practice gave my teachers fits." He plucked at the strings of his guitar with his nails, producing quick, high notes.

He laughed at Antonia's declaration, "I should have brought my harp instead, it has more strings." Morgan too the seat next to her, and leaned towards her slightly as she whispered. He quietly intoned, "Aaah...but if Gerard means to hide, he'll have to get himself a new laugh. I'd know it anywhere." Morgan fanned his fingers across his guitar strings, and met Antonia's eyes, "So what now? I think you should pick, we'll try a harmony...if I'm twice as fast, I should be able to make up for my 6-string handicap." He smiled brightly.

She laughed. "Gerard is a special case. If I'm anywhere else, he comes right up and has a seat. When I'm in here, he'll wait to be invited. But the rest of them..." she shrugged. Then she smiled. "And no amount of speed can make up for that handicap."

Her fingers lightly played through a complicated trill that could only be done on a 12 string guitar. "Tango?" she suggested, playing the opening riff.

Morgan smiled, "Should we invite him in then? He's standing right outside the hedgerow..." He smiled, and laughed at her answer. "Don't be so sure...I cheat, which is the Family past time, as much as anything else." He chuckled, but did not magic himself into more speed. At her suggestion, he ran through a complicated series of notes, plucking them from the guitar with his nails, rendering them high and clear. "The tango it is..."

He waited, tapping out the beat on his guitar, and then entered into the tango smoothly with Antonia's lead. Morgan was not too prideful to let her carry the lead in the song, he supported her music skilfully, becoming part of the harmony, distinct and clearly heard, but inextricably twined around the sound. He was grinning again, Antonia rarely saw him smile the way he was while simply going about his business in the Castle...and not since his Father's eyes were put out.

To say that Antonia had been uncomfortable with the events surrounding Corwin would be an understatement. Julian's part in it had horrified her, and it was only Gerard's intervention and explanation that kept her from
leaving Amber in protest the moment she learned of it. She had avoided family functions for months afterward. She just couldn't look Morgan, or Eric in the eye, and she had always quite liked Eric, but he was just unreasonable when it came to Corwin. She hadn't really gotten to know her fellow player before. Everyone was always so caught up in their own thing, and then there was the Corwin ugliness. But she had decided not so long ago that she was going to pretend her uncle wasn't in the dungeon. Denial. It's what's for dinner..

Her long nails skipped lightly over the complicated run of notes, producing the crisp, clear tones of the Tango Flamenco. It was more complicated then the traditional six string arrangement, but why have a 12 string if you weren't going to use it fully? She played with the same level of intensity that she took on when she picked up a blade, but of a different type. With the music, she just seemed to let herself fall into it, to let it take her over and shove everything else away.

Morgan's bright green eyes slid closed, and he continued to play. He was not a swordsman, but he was used to focus, discipline, dedication...it was perhaps why he enjoyed life as much as he could, especially moments like this. Morgan played not only with passion, which he seemed to have a very deep wellspring of, he played with the kind of focus only an Amberite can muster. Each note carried with it a piece of Morgan's desires, feeding what the song meant to him, as he plucked the notes from the string...he made music as precisely as he made Magic, and while both required his passion, Music was his first love. In Morgan's supporting melody, there was the feeling of a woman's body close to his own...a gasp from full parted lips...the feel of her lithe form bending and arching beneath his hands...the curves and warmth of her body...the whisper of silk...the warm breath upon your neck...and desire, always desire, in every implied motion, in every note that merged with one of Antonia's.

Antonia and her music responded and wrapped around Morgan's like a lover. The music became more lush, more intimate. The notes caressed one another, sighed together, deeper tones made love to the curves and planes conjured by his fingers. The silence around them seemed to deepen, the night to still, as the music of the Tango Flamenco brought into the forefront of Antonia's mind a pair of dream lovers behind her closed eyes, and she played to them as much as she played them into being, into actions that seemed destined to be forever only in her mind. No one else would realize it, and she wasn't even aware he was listening, but Antonia played for a tall brooding man with ice blue eyes.

Morgan had not had a companion to play with that was as passionate and skilled as Antonia since Avalon, since he had taken his lessons with the Sidhe, and played for the Queen of Air and Darkness. He had played well enough to secure his exit from Faery, which was both part of Avalon and not. It brought many of those memories flooding back, thoughts of his lost home. It was still the Tango that he played, there was still the passion, and the desire...but the undercurrent of Morgan's music added a wistful edge to the music.

It became not only about desire and passion...but about desire and passion lost or undiscovered. It was different for every listener. It was not the lover...but the lover lost. Not the feel of a woman's body against his own, but the memory of it. No longer was it the gasp from parted lips, but the loss of the lover that made it. The feel of her lithe form, became the longing for one. Morgan played on, his smile having slipped, his head turned skyward, as an expression of intense feeling played across his features, changing, with subtlety, as crystalline note rose from his instrument.

Morgan had given full voice to the depth of the deep longing Antonia had not quite fully admitted to playing into tonight, though he couldn't have known. Exactly. She let herself be swept up in it, and poured it all out through her fingers to be carried on moonlight and night breezes, through the rich, resonating notes that were plucked from her heart as surely as they were the strings.

But then, slowly, the song changed. It was no longer the Flamenco they had started with, though the themes of the original provided a complicated bed for the simple images of the major. It wasn't anything she had ever seen on paper. It was just there, waiting to be released. The longing changed from an ache to a promise rich with possibility and life. It called up joy, and love, and a sense of completeness. Oneness in the face of the storm.

Morgan followed where Antonia led, changing the song as naturally as he breathed. His fingers flew across the strings, plucking out notes with incredible deftness and speed, and while he cannot play fast enough to make up for his 6-string handicap, his ability to support the music of Antonia's heart was nothing short of -- perfection. Anyone listening would have been hard pressed to identify just how the song was constructed, so intertwined had the music and the notes become. It went beyond harmony, that was not possible with the range deficit between the instruments, but their sounds blended into something more powerful, and richer with joy than the two could have managed alone. Morgan played now not for himself, that indulgence had passed, he played for Antonia...for her unrequited love, her her firm belief in the future, and the joys of life. He played with the promise that if Julian did not find some way to make her happy, he would be forced to smash his beautiful guitar over his Uncle's head. There was no doubting what Antonia felt for him now, Morgan had heard it in her music, even as he had seen the tension with his eyes.

He thought he may have heard Antonia chuckle softly, but it was washed over by the building crescendo that held hope and the promise of a bright future. Her fingers flew to build the lush and complicated trilling of unbridled joy to be found in the simple first step of a shared kiss, and that was where she ended it. There wasn't anything left to say, and Antonia let her final promise be carried on the breeze.

For a moment, she remained, bent over the fret board with her eyes closed as she listened to that last note fade. Finally, she blew out a breath and lifted her head. Her playing hand pushed the riot of her chestnut curls back from her face. A face that was flush with the outpouring of emotion and energy, and her eyes were bright with the thrill of a session well done. Lost as she was in it, she knew it was well done. Perfect.

She smiled over at Morgan. "That was brilliant."

Morgan had to actually take a few deep breaths. His cheeks hurt from all the smiling he had done, and his fingers tingled, despite the calluses. He had not played like that in some time. There was magic in it, the basic kind that everyone had, if they bothered to touch it, and if he had never met Antonia before, she would have instantly become his friend...his cousin...his sister...from that one session alone. Morgan slipped an arm about her waist, and briefly hugged her to his side, without thinking about it. "It was amazing..." He breathed softly.

Any number of other people might take the familiarity of his actions as a come on. But Antonia was from a shadow where men who just met each other kissed on the cheek, and bonds that lasted generations were formed over something as simple as the shared appreciation of a glass of wine ... or a deeply moving experience. Antonia had set her guitar aside and returned the gesture without a thought.

His skin was flushed from the exertion, the motion, the beauty of it all. Morgan would probably not play for a few days after that night, just to keep the memory of it fresh. He leaned into her slightly, nudging her shoulder with his own. He smiled, and took another deep breath, "I think...I need 12-strings..."

She chuckled softly, swaying slightly. "I think you do too ... you will allow me the honor, si?" It was voiced as a question, but it had air of a statement of intent. "The man who made mine, he will create for you a lover with twelve strings."

Morgan grinned, "Oh, that would be great, Antonia..." He paused, "Thank you..." He put his guitar aside, the fingers of his playing hand rubbing together. He took a breath and looked into the night sky, "Thank you for that...I've not played like that since, well, you know; that which we deny." Morgan smiled at her warmly, "We should have done this years ago." He regarded her for a moment, "Antonia...do you think things will ever go back to normal? Well, as normal as we get..." Morgan leaned towards her slightly, "There's been talk of skirmishes and things out of Shadow...Eric is tense, more than his usual. I know that my Father hurled a Curse...do you think this ---" He gestured about them, at the general air of tension and angst. "---is it?"

Antonia winced at the reminder that all was not well. "I cannot say, mi amico. I do not know enough about such things. Some believe that it is so. Does the Death Curse take effect if the one releasing it does not die?" she shrugged helplessly. "Surviving diluted his intentions, forse?" She sighed and looked out over the moonlit garden crafted by her father's hands. "I wish Papa would come home," she said lowly. "Amber could use her Protector, I fear."

Morgan caught the wince, and looked momentarily chagrined that he had brought it up. "Nor do I, I'm afraid. I have spent the second half of my life here in Amber...I was...a part of things." He met Antonia's eyes, "I learned so much here, I was...not respected exactly, but appreciated for my talents." Morgan looked at hishands, "I have a more than rudimentary understanding of Shadow and the Pattern...I have studied Trump and Sorcery under Fiona...I think the first of our generation to learn the skills...I did not expect accolades, but it felt pretty good to be the 'good son'." He took a breath, "Then Father does...what he did...and I'm looked at with distrust. I think Eric would like to see me in the cell next to my Father half the time...certainly the dinners get harder to smile through, but I do try. It's not the fault of everyone at the table after all..." He shrugged, "Julian just makes me...uncomfortable, no offense to you..." Morgan patted her shoulder in a brotherly and understanding fashion, "Gerard, everyone else, I think I've done well in remaining open to them... but it just gets harder..." He shook his head, "My Father thought he was as good as dead...from what Fiona has taught me, I've no reason to think his Curse would lose weight because he did not...whatever forces we draw on do not require our deaths to work, but they are so powerful, Fiona has told me that no one would make use of it unless Death were surely imminent."

She had momentarily stiffened at the mention of Julian. The man was dense as a brick. But she had grown used to it. She sighed quietly at her own ridiculousness.

"I should like to meet your Father...someday perhaps..." He sighed, and smiled ruefully, "Bah! I did not mean to wax philosophical..."

She smiled. "Sitting in this garden has that effect, I have found." Antonia turned her head to look into the darkened pagoda. "Reach behind you. You will find a bottle of wine and some glasses on a tray. It is already opened; the reds must breathe. The staff, they bring them out for me whenever there is a gathering of Family. They know me well, si?"

Morgan smiled, "Yes they do." He turned to find exactly what she described, and poured two glasses holding one out to her as she spoke.

Antonia tilted her head back to look up at the clear night sky. "It is a pity that you did not arrive sooner, mi amico. The handful of years after the Ghenishi, with Grandfather ruling. They were, I think, what it was supposed to be. Eric is not a bad King....in general. But Oberon, ah... there was a King. I met him out here the first time. I was a very angry woman when I arrived. Being civil to Papa was very difficult. I stomped off...discovered the most hideous fish I had ever seen and sat down to fume like a good Cornaron with a grudge. Suddenly, there was this man behind me. There was no doubting who it was. We talked and fed those ugly koi. He did much to diffuse my anger. He was, I think, exactly what I needed at the time. We often met out here in the evenings. To feed those stupid fish."

"Fah," she turned to Morgan with a slight smile. "Now it has me doing it."

"I never got the chance to meet our Grandfather." Morgan shook his head, "And then Father left within a year of my having arrived. I could not go, I had far too much to learn, and with ---" He swallowed, " -- with Avalon gone, I just didn't feel safe in Shadow, not without the Pattern behind me. I didn't take the Pattern for another year...Fiona didn't think I was ready until then." He raised his glass, "To better times, Antonia...better times." He drank after his toast, taking a deeper pull of the wine than was normally polite. Morgan chuckled, "Wine is not likely to put an end to philosophy I fear..." He looked to Antonia, "Why were you angry when you first came to Amber? If you don't mind my asking..."

"He left," she said simply before sipping her wine. She then shook her head. "No, that is unfair, my short answer. Not fair to the man my father is. He said goodbye. He had always come back before, so we did not worry. But months, they became years. Mama died after two years. Telling me until the day she died that he would be back. But, he did not. Years later, I read her journals. She had hoped to soften the blow, saying he would return. She did not believe it herself. She died thinking he had preceded her." Antonia rolled the bowl of the glass between her palms as she stared out at nothing. "I blamed him for her death. I blamed him when I was forced to kill a man when I was fourteen. When war broke out with Dijon, I blamed him. When the vineyards burned, and the villa lost its income, I laid it all at the feet of my absent father. I no longer cared if he lived somewhere, as it was obvious to my eyes that he no longer cared about us. I dropped the name of Barimen when I was accepted into the Academy. Even then, when it seemed that all I had left was my anger, I felt something within me die and I blamed him."

Morgan had asked, because he honestly wanted to know. He did not interrupt her as she when on.

"And then, one night, there was a, what is the word... ruckus, si. A ruckus in the courtyard. It was my first night home from the front in months. You can imagine I was a little tense, si?" she smirked faintly at the memory. "There is this horse in the courtyard, but no rider. A horse that talked. I, of course, thought it possessed by demons. He would not shut up, or go away, and kept insisting he had been sent to collect 'My Master's daughter". The Holy Water, it did nothing. The household was so frightened, I finally told the beast that I would go with him, though I was not convinced his Master was any other but the Devil. He agreed to be silent."

She flashed him a smile. "You can imagine what I thought when I first saw Morgenstern, si?"

Morgan chuckled, "Yes, yes I can..."

"I met Tristan in Arden. After I convinced Julian that I was supposed to be here, his son brought me to the castle. But I knew nothing of Amber, of the family. Tristan explained much on the way here, though he could not believe anyone was just dropping me into the middle of everything with no explanation. I was already angry. But to have been sent for by a horse, it was just too much, no? Papa let me have my say. Even after hearing his side of things, I was still angry. He had agreed to deal with the War, but it had taken longer then he had expected. The twenty years for me were only seven for him. He had not known that the precautions he had placed on Cornaro had failed. He thought we were safe there. When everything was done, he came back here and realized things were not as they should have been in his absence. Oberon had brought Cornaro into the Golden Circle, but that was not something people like myself were aware of, and it would not have meant anything if we had. By the time Papa found out how bad things had become, Oberon had already sent that accursed horse after me."

"I was still angry. But then, Grandfather, he reminded me of something that Tristan had told me. Papa lost two brothers in that war. I could hear Mama's voice in my head, railing at me for being a petulant child. Both of them saying that we needed one another, Papa and I. It was difficult to hold on to anger out of habit in the face of Oberon and Sofia. I could hear it in Papa's voice when he spoke of her the next day, when he said he wished he had been at my graduation; he was more then sorry that he had not been there. His heartbreak was in his voice. I could not stay angry."

Antonia drained her glass and chuckled. "A bit more then you asked for, si? I do not recall ever telling anyone all of that in one go."

Morgan shook his head, "Not at all, Antonia...I asked after all." He smiled, and finished his own wine, reaching for the bottle to serve them both more. He leaned against the pagoda's support, and looked up at the stars again. "What's Cornaro like? I've not been there yet...I've seen some of the Golden Circle...but somehow missed stopping in your old home. I think I should, if that's where you learned to play..." He smiled at her, but there was a not of wistfulness in his voice, a very slight edge of homesickness.

"Ah, but you will," she smiled enthusiastically. "We will go to the Instrument Master so that he may create for you a masterpiece of your own. It will do us both good, I think, to get away for a few days." She winked slyly and dropped her voice to a whisper. "And while we are there, perhaps we will harass the Dijon, si?"

Morgan chuckled, "I would like that very much." He grinned at her wink and her whisper, and could not help but lean towards her conspiratorially. Morgan looked thoughtful a moment, "Isn't that the mustard Uncle Gerard brought that time he decided to show us what frankfurters were? I think there's some in the kitchens..." He smirked.

Antonia snickered. She had found the name of the mustard hilarious. Especially as it was French, and that ridiculous Pascel kept insisting he was most assuredly not French, and yet, he was Dijon.

"Cornaro is ... Papa likened it to a more glorious version of Shadow Earth's Italian Renaissance. Rolling green hills; miles of vineyards; sprawling majestic villas, rustic farmhouses and churches of such awe inspiring beauty they will take your breath away. Some days it seems as if there is nothing in Venecia but artists and poets. It is beautiful, Cornaro."

"Oh, that Venicia sounds like my kind of town." He smiled, and took a breath. "Avalon could be like that on the holidays, bards and troubadours, harpists and playwrights...painters, craftsmen. The fairs were just...fantastic. And the food was...there was nothing that could be called a delicacy...but it was all hardy and so good. The meat pies...honey mead...skewers of lamb...turkey...and the Music! Everywhere there was a song, by voice or by instrument, or as accompaniment to a rousing tale of yore." Morgan smiled, "Sometimes, if the Fair was near the Hills or the Forests, Fair Folk would join us...most would never know, of course, but I could tell...I always could..." He drank his wine, and looked at his boots. Morgan missed the place, for all that he clearly loved Amber, and what it had given him...Avalon was his first home.

Antonia watched him speak of it with a faint smile. She understood. "It is not quite the same, is it?" She looked out over the gardens. "No matter the draw of Amber, the lands of our births, they still tug at us. It is not something our elders can understand, this tug at our heartstrings. This is the land of their birth. It is easy for them, for they feel the pull only to this one place. It is the same for Ariaunna and Tristan, being born in Arden as they were. There is no conflict in their hearts over two homes."

"Ah, no, it is not." Morgan regarded her, "I long for home, some night more than others." He sighed softly, "And while I envy your ability to visit your home, I am also very happy that you can." Morgan shook his head, "I would not wish what happened to mine on anyone. Avalon was destroyed, possibly just to force Father home, I do not know why. But it is gone..that, or it is blocked from either my or Father's return."

She winced. She had heard such things were possible, but it was always abstract, a theory. The destruction of an entire world... it was beyond her comprehension.

He gestured around, "I do love Amber...Arden...the City... what I have learned here, without Avalon and Amber, I would not be who I am. But, I still miss my home...the Castle...the people I knew..." Morgan shrugged, smiled and drank more wine. "Now I wax melancholy, and we've had such fun this evening." He gently clinked his glass to hers, and then drank a bit
more. "When do you think we can make our way to Cornaro?"

"If you are free, we can go tomorrow," Antonia replied after a moment's thought. "It is not unusual for me to return home for a few days whenever the air gets too tense, and it is certainly that. I will speak with Eric and let him know we are going and even why. So that he does not think we are doing anything sneaky, si?"

Morgan laughed, though it was edged with bitterness, "Antonia, what makes you think he does not already know." He gestured around them, "I'm certain I am followed and eavesdropped upon. I'm sure His Majesty will be happy to have me away from Amber, and in the company of someone as trustworthy as you are." He shrugged, and smiled. "But, of course, we will tell him what he already knows out of courtesy." His smile was more clearly one of anticipation, "I look forward to it...should I dress...more appropriately? I mean, more in keeping with their local fashion?" He tapped his guitar, "My friend here will certainly come along for the ride..."

"Bah," she said with a gesture of dismissal. "If there are spies in this garden, they do not want me to find them." She paused to sip her wine. "Wear something ... of the Renaissance, si? Nobel, but casual, I think." She flashed him a smile. "But not like Pascel. He dresses like a Frenchman

Morgan smirked, "Perhaps not right nearby..." He leaned towards her and whispered, tapping the side of his head. "Sometimes I can hear them if they get too close. Their thoughts I mean, not precisely thoughts, but their energy...sometimes I lose the in the City for fun." He straightened, "But I sort of know they're there fairly often." Morgan nodded, "Renaissance. No fancy boy ruffles. Got it." He smiled, "Noble Casual, I can manage that I think." Morgan laughed, "No...but that mustard isn't half bad." He rubbed his fingers together, and drank more wine, polishing off his second glass.

"Is it true what they say about your Father and that Mountain Pass?"

"That he held it alone?" she asked with a half smile. "Si. I did not believe it either at first. But then I had the opportunity to watch him sparring with the Guard. All of them. At once. It was a beautiful thing to watch. He is quiet grace in motion, my father. It was very much like a dance. Until that day I had always taken a certain pride in my sword work. Just watching him made me feel like a small child playing at being a swordswoman with a stick."

Morgan whistled, clearly impressed. "I'm not terribly handy with a sword, I'm sure you could actually whip me with a stick, if you wanted to. I know which end to stick in them, and which end to hold...Lancelot taught me that much, before my focus strayed." He smiled ruefully, and shook his head. "The way you describe your Father, Lancelot came close...though dancing in full plate would not be accurate...he was efficient, brutal and efficient. And always seemed a little regretful that he had to be in a battle." He smiled, "I was the Harper...led the marches...kept up morale...fought when I had to...though I had not seen too many battles by the time we left."

"It is an important position, the harper," Antonia nodded. "Cornaro no longer uses harpers; they have moved to drums and pipes. But it is still important." She paused for another sip. "I have not seen Papa in actual battle. But he would have to be brutal and efficient to hold that pass alone."

Morgan smiled at the fact that she was familiar with the role, "Yes, I can play both of those as well...but the Harp is special, there's a magic to it that was part of the earth." He made a gesture as if he were strumming a small harp. "Many of the men remembered the old gods, the old ways, the ways taught by the Host long ago...the Harper curries their favor, by simply playing, and blesses the battle. There are the mundane reasons, I described as well..." He smiled proudly, "I've turned the tide of battle with the right song to stir the blood or dishearten the enemy." Morgan shrugged, "But that was a long time ago now...relatively speaking, of course." He nodded, "I have to imagine that he was. It is a legendary feat...after my education with Flora, I wonder if Lancelot was a Shadow of your Father...he was our finest Knight, only my Father was better."

"Interesting idea," she hummed thoughtfully as something he said caught her imagination. Antonia held her glass over to him for a refill. "I wonder how many of them have actually looked for their Shadows to challenge them....or perhaps one another's Shadows. Imagine, an army of Papa's like minded Shadows. What a fearsome opponent that would be on the field, si?"

Morgan smiled as he refilled her glass, and then his own. "Well, it is certainly not impossible. The Shadows of the originals would be...lesser...but likely paragons in their own worlds. They may not even look like their Originators, but would share some traits." He shook his head, "I'd rather not...several hundred of the man that held the pass during the Gheneshi War could well do whatever they pleased." Morgan laughed at a thought, "I'm not sure all the egos could be in one place...can you imagine more than one Eric trying to decide who was right and who wasn't? Or several Bleys’?" He laughed genuinely, and too a long drink of wine.

"I think there may be a Universal law prohibiting more then one Bleys within a square mile of another," Antonia grinned. "A Shadow full of Bleys', there would be a shortage of mirrors, si?" She glanced around and then leaned in to whisper. "I can see him having a fling with a female Shadow of himself."

Morgan chuckled, "There would either be many duels, or a hell of a party." He smiled, and laughed at her comment about the mirrors. "I'm not sure that much loud color can physically exist in one place. I'm certain there exists an axiom to prevent such a fashion disaster." Morgan laughed a bit louder than he had intended, clapping a hand to his mouth, and then drinking some wine to further silence himself. "That's almost disturbing...moreso because he would have to purposely seek her out to do so." He laughed and shook his head, "Bah! I'll need another bottle of wine to banish that mental image!"

Antonia's laughter carried over the garden merrily. "It is something one enamored of themselves would do, si? I can see it happening." She snickered and lowered her voice again. "And do you know who else I can see doing something like that? Zita Florimel."

Morgan blinked, "It needn't be a male version..." Then he nudged her. "Stop that! Or we're going to need enough liquor to erase the entire evening." He shook his head, and rubbed his eyes with the heel of his free hand.

Antonia snorted a laugh and very nearly her wine.

She turned and stretched back, reach around the wall of the pagoda near the entrance. There was the clink of glass on glass and she emerged shortly with another bottle of wine. "I do not always drink it when they send it. But that was easily a two bottle dinner, so we will make up for my lack of drinking last week."

He drank his wine, all but finishing yet another glass. Morgan laughed, "Two bottles at least. Your perverse Shadow philosophy has conjured up images best left unimagined. This must be one of those unspeakable things Fiona warned me that I would discover..." Morgan finished the bottle they had started, splitting the remainder between them.

"To unspeakable things," Antonia smirked and raised her glass and then blinked when Gerard's laugh drifted back to them. "Do you know? I may have had too much to drink. No, no, that is l'impossibile. I grew up drinking this wine." She gave him a mock accusatory look. "I am not perverse."

Morgan raised his glass as well, and drank to the toast. "You? Too much. That bodes ill for me then." He smirked, "I have realized that liquor may be the only thing every member of this Family has in common." He chuckled, smiling at Antonia's consternation. "You are too! I've the mental scars to prove it...I may have to seek counseling from Fiona...or some kind of imagination wipe, so I can start fresh and nominally innocent..."

"Bah," Antonia replied dismissively. "I am certain that someone has thought of this before me. If none but Random." She finished off her glass and held it out to Morgan. "This family, I am given to understand, also has a love for sex in common as well. But that is something I would not know about."

"I don't want to hear it from him, either." Morgan smiled, refilling her empty glass. "Two things. That is a mighty short list, I'm afraid." He took a drink of wine, and smirked. "You don't know about sex? Well, you see Antonia..." Morgan began, his tone managing to remain nearly serious. "When two people love each other -" He heard a cough from Gerard, "-- okay, they don't have to love each other, but lust helps...when two people lust for each other, they sometimes express this in a physical way..." Morgan grinned, "Bees for example..."

Antonia considered for a moment making him go through the whole, entire explanation. But instead she slowly raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps it has missed your attention that I am armed, mi amico," she said lightly. She was not really offended. In was even vaguely amusing. Perhaps it was none of his business, but this is what it had taken for Gerard and Flora to cease trying to set her up with one noble or another. If she and Morgan were to be friends, and she rather thought they were, it was best to get this out of the way. Besides, it was not something that could be used against her.

"I assure you I understand the .... mechanics very well. My fellows in the cavalry, they were not very discrete in the liaisons they sought to lose themselves in to escape the harsh realities of a life on the front. My lack of ... knowledge is in the experience ... and it is by choice. One that my comrades did not understand, but respected my wishes to not seek comfort from a fellow I might have to watch die tomorrow." She looked out over the gardens again. "Coming here, it has removed that obstacle, no? But it is still my choice. I have waited this long, I can wait for the one I give my heart to."

Morgan chuckled, "I am aware of the giant people-sticker at your hip." He chuckled, and shook his head. "Oh, Antonia, I rather figured you knew the mechanics, and had no questions about your...abstinence. It was my intention to amuse not to offend." He smiled and drank more wine, "I applaud your self-control, and there again...I am reminded of Lancelot. Many Knights remained pure, though for far less pragmatic reasons." Morgan shook his head slightly, "Oh, I think it is entirely understandable...it is...a unique and special thing, and it is something that can only be truly given once. I do hope that when it is, it is indeed your Heart's Desire."
He lifted his glass to that.

"And to not being too old to enjoy it, si?" she smiled. "Between you and me, I think it confuses Papa....and yet, he is also relieved. To be the father of a daughter must be much more difficult then of a son."

"We are not burdened by age. You'll enjoy it when it happens. I certainly did." Morgan smiled and drank. "In Avalon, my Father was a Sorcerer King...I went looking for my own Magic...stumbled across the Fair Folk...it was -- an adventure." He took a breath as he recalled the memory, and leaned against the pagoda wall again. "There are worried for both...but I honestly think you are right. But, you're likely handier with your blade than anyone that might be a worry to your Father...or to you for that matter." Morgan nudged her, "My presence will ward off the more foolish would-be suitors...I'm sure you have several nobles intrigued." All but the Prince of Density, Morgan thought.

"Bah!" Antonia exclaimed. "They are not intrigued by me! They are intrigued by Benedict's daughter, Duchess of Kolvir. I am not interested in the man who wants the daughter of a Prince of Amber. I want a man who is interested despite my being the daughter of a Prince of Amber. One who is willing to brave Benedict: Protector of Amber to have me." She snorted and took a long drink from her glass.

Morgan patted her shoulder gently, "I understand." He shrugged, "I have no real title...I doubt Eric would allow me one anyway." The last he said rather quietly. "As the Son of Corwin...I'm afraid I am distinctly out of vogue. Where once I was an eligible bachelor, now I am avoided, lest association with me bring disfavor on a house." He smiled at her, "Doubtless, as we speak, you are losing your 'Daughter of a Prince' lustre just by sitting with me here in the gardens." Morgan chuckled, "Soon you won't be invited to the best, yet boring, parties...and you'll have to wait for the salt at the dinner table..."

"What!" she turned to him with a look of mock outrage. "You mean I could have gotten out of boring dinner parties sooner just by being seen in public with you? I think, si, yes, I am outraged to only be finding this out now."

Morgan drank his wine, and with dramatic gravity replied, "Indeed so." He smiled just before drinking a little more, "Doubtless, I have decimated your dance card." Morgan chuckled, "Being unpopular has some advantages at least. I don't even get into duels...who wants to kick a man when he's down. Also, the last fellow slept for a few days...and now --" He gasped, "--I've been accused of practicing Sorcery." He smirked, "Between you and I, I could have had said noble clucking like a chicken every time his manservant said the words 'my Lord', but I thought that might upset Fiona... undignified and all that."

Antonia smirked lightly. "Pity," said she, and sipped her wine. "I will not tell a soul, should you decide to do it later."

Morgan laughed, "Well, if someone clucks like a chicken, you'll know the reason why." He winked, and sipped his wine once, and then drank deeply. He regarded her quietly for a moment, and then at the line of hedges where, possibly, Julian still stood looking mildly disconcerted. Morgan leaned towards Antonia, and whispered quietly, "Is there anything I can do? To help I mean...everyone can see it you know, even if no one is saying." He sighed, smiling slightly. "Your wine makes me too frank, perhaps, but truly...I know it is your business and yours alone...but if there is anything..."

Antonia looked up from her wine at him. She wanted to pretend she had no idea what he was talking about, which would, of course, had been ridiculous. She wasn't blind. Not like some people. She knew it had suddenly ratcheted up enough that only the trees could miss it. Well, and apparently Julian, though Antonia didn't like to admit that the man she was so hopelessly into was an idiot. Antonia sighed and answered quietly. "No. No, it is very ... sweet of you to ask. But this is something, I think, that he must see on his own. Although I simply do not understand how he can not see what it is that is between us."

Morgan nodded as she spoke. "I do agree...but if ever you need a hidden musician, you know how to find me." He finished his wine, and dangled the glass between his thumb and forefinger, letting it swing back and forth. "It is my understanding that it has not been done before...intra-family relations. I am not certain that there is a taboo...I mean, there are rumors about Father in Deirdre." He smiled at the mention of his closest Aunt by blood. "But that is all they have been I believe, and I was once told that such a thing was, doubtless, very frowned upon by our Grandfather. Perhaps Julian clings to some wrongheaded sense of tradition...perhaps he is wary of Benedict...only Julian can say." He rubbed her back gently, and quietly said, "I cannot believe that he is entirely --- blind. None of our kin are, well, stupid. Gerard is just gregarious, and I don't believe his big and slow act for a minute. There's a fly in the ointment that only Julian can see...I mean really...he hides it, perhaps, a little better...but there is something."

She gave him an elegant one shouldered shrug. "I have faith he will one day no longer be able to deny it. Something will knock it loose in his mind, and his heart." She gave Morgan a faint smile. "I can be patient when it is important."

Morgan hefted the empty wine bottle, "I could knock it loose? I mean, I'm already unpopular..." He grinned, and winked and set the bottle down. He nodded, "Patient? Is there sainthood in Amber?"

Antonia laughed. "If there were, I am certain my horse would nominate himself. He is the one that puts up with my dark mutterings."

Morgan laughed, "You have one of those magical horses? Like Morgenstern?"

"Never compare him to that great land barge," Antonia smiled. "Morgenstern would give any creature a complex."

She looked up at the moon's position. "So... you are going with me tomorrow, si?"

He smiled, and nodded. "Oh yes, absolutely...I plan to find the clothes this evening. Where shall we meet?"

She drained her wine and set the glass behind her. "After breakfast, at the stables. Does that work for you?"

Morgan nodded, "Certainly...I have to break my get up just before lunch routine, but that's fine." He smiled, "At the stables it is, I'll have the Horsemaster or one of his Lads, make sure there's a good horse waiting for me in the morning." He poured more wine into his glass, and drank it down in two long pulls. "It'll help me sleep..." He took up his guitar, and slung it over his shoulder. He strummed the tune to an old lullaby, and smiled. "Until the morning then?"

She smiled as she gathered her own things. "Until the morning. Goodnight, mi amico."

Petra: Day 1, Part 4

2007-03-18T14:51:12Z

Ah, Arden. One day I hope to actually be able to spend time there. But, alas, it will not be today.

I felt rather like a soldier during debriefing. You may wonder how I would have any idea at all what that was like, but I shall just point you to Vincenzo. I offered Julian a rundown on the morning's events, and our opinions-for what they're worth. Julian is a lovely man. I cannot imagine why some people think him otherwise.

As I was also out there to deliver a message to Islain, I was a bit surprised that she had apparently received a similiar one already from someone unknown to me.

They seemed to wish to rescue Payne. Let me state for the record, that while I think him foolish, I have no real desire to see the man dead. Afterall, if my father (and his) aren't the liars I suspect them to be some days, then it is possible Payne may be my brother. I always wanted a brother. Although one a bit more circumspect would have been nice.

I informed Julian that I did not support this plan. It is a foolish risk due to the small chance for success. If Julian was somehow lost during such foolishness, it would be a much greater loss in the end, wouldn't it?

I also asked him to get word to my father that Maria was probably not much longer for the mortal plane. He should see her before it is too late. He owes her that much, dammit. But, of course, there is a great deal of cloak and dagger subterfuge involved with getting him to agree to be anywhere in advance.

We exchanged favors, Julian and I. I asked that one dear to me not get caught in the crossfire of rebellion, and he asked that I offer Islain safe haven should she ever require it. Fair is fair. But he does not wish her to know that he has asked. The men in this family are very confused where their hearts are concerned, I fear.

Islain is very ... well, at first she seemed guarded, which is understandable. But I was beginning to think the stories I had heard from when Mandor invaded were exaggarated. But suddenly, like the sun from behind a cloud, I saw Princess Islain, daughter of Eric. I find that I like her. I am not certain what the message I delivered was about, but I can imagine. Why else would Mandor's request for her to return to Amber be agreed with by her?

I told her what I knew of Mandor. Granted, it isn't much, and how much of what he was at dinner last night was even true, I have no idea. But one can never be too careful, or too informed.

I gave her a way to contact me should she need a way into Amber. What is one more thing in an already hectic period of existance? Besides, she promised to try and get me some of that wine Julian is hording.

When I returned to the ship, it was to discover that Vikund had also returned. To speak with Ornella and myself. It seems her trump was the other thing Payne had on his person that caused him concern. I was upset that he had one of her, and that he had it this morning. I didn't bother hiding how Johann came to possess mine. It is obvious I gave it to him, and Vikund should know I am rarely stingy with the cards. I'm not sure he was happy with my answer, but nothing I said was a lie.

It was during Ornella's questioning that we discovered he had hidden from her what really happened that day years ago in Atlantis. He had planned to use her to get onboard, to get to Mandor. Ornella says she never actually agreed and neglected to inform him that there were some parts of the plan she just couldn't help him with. He had already spoken of hiding things in her mind behind key phrases and events that would trigger her subconscious, and she was attempting to make certain her behaviour drew attention. I don't know that it would have worked, so I am doubly pleased he did not attempt to carry out that plan. I would have killed him myself if he had tried that on my ship.

Ornella is understandably upset. She is a woman of bright wit and great intelligence. For someone to tamper with her mind has shaken her deeply. Truth be told, it has not made me very happy either. In fact, I am quite furious over this. Ornella and I have been friends for most of our lives, as have many of those who are on the Queen. She is, in fact, more like family to me then many who are related by blood. I am thinking of sending her home. Until that time, she is to be under guard. For my own peace of mind.

Vikund left after that, to make his report. But he is worried. I can tell. In parting, he reminded me of something he said that night in his office, long ago, in BlackHall.

She tilted her head and kissed his chin. "What is it you do for the Prime Minister? Since I'm going to be competing with him for your time and all."

"I am his ear in the city," Vikund replied. "I have to make regular reports of what goes on, and implement certain plans. In truth, anything he believes will not be handled competently by anyone else lands on my desk. Thankfully, I have had few complaints."

Petra pulled back enough to look up into his face. "And is this something you want to do, or something you need to do? Would you die for him, Vikund?"

"I do what I have to," Vikund replied, "but I would not give my life for him or any of his ilk."

He looked deep into her eyes then, and spoke with intensity. "I would for you."

He feels the time is coming when it may be necessary for him to make good on that. I pray that he is overreacting. But I fear he may not be.

Sempre Ambra.
Für immer Bernstein.

Petra: Day 1, Part 3

2007-02-22T12:55:46Z

It was difficult not to notice the off kilter way my previous entry reads. I can only plead bone deep weariness in my defense. I am not on top of things, and it has been noticed by the closest of the staff. Curse Vikund for spiriting Dawn off. Perhaps Aura has something. I can only take so much coffee on an empty stomach, and I cannot very well be strolling about the castle zoned out of my head on a caffeine high while everyone's levels of suspicion are as high as they must be after this morning.

Not that we've done anything for anyone to be suspicious of, mind you. But an attempt on the Prime Minister, the King's collapse, all right in front of us, well... I can see how nearly everyone would be looked at more closely. I know I would certainly have everyone under closer scrutiny. But then, I have Vincenzo hovering over everyone, so that, I think, is understandable.

It retrospect, the timing of all this is a bit ... odd. I'll have to sit down with Vincenzo later. Before we open tonight. Assuming I can find the time.

I feel a bit bad for Ornella. She was a little fond of Johann, and I know they enjoyed their political discussions back when he was a semi-regular guest before he was run out of Amber. Hearing of the events of the morning have shaken her. I have sent her to bed, with Sorcha to keep her company. She would only be distracted for the remainder of the meeting. The twins have also been sent to bed. But I dismissed them before we covered Merlin's collapse in the meeting. We will question them more thoroughly later, just to be certain. But by all appearances, Merlin was perfectly fine while in our company.

The meeting was interrupted by the announcement that Larissa was back onboard and wanting to talk. I wasn't in the mood for a staff meeting anyway. Larissa was concerned over Merlin's collapse, that she might have been responsible, and I had no issues telling her what we had seen from our viewpoints.

The talk of Pattern and alcohol being the cause of Merlin's condition is suspect. A look at Merlin's tab verfies what the twins said: There was just under three bottles drunk between them last night. Not nearly enough to reduce Merlin to unconsciousness and he was steady when he left the deck, according to security. It is doubly suspect that someone with Pattern imprint would react so badly to the use of Pattern nearby. Larissa was of the same opinion. There is something going on ith Merlin that we just do not know.

Ash covered as she was, I offered Larissa a bath while we spoke more. I had suspected that she wasn't as behind the occupiers as she appeared way back when, but it is clear when she was asked about Mandor just how much she hates him, and "hate" may not be a strong enough word. It is a deep, and abiding thing that tainted the air when she gave it voice.

"...He has spent a century in a place where the very fabric of reality is hostile to him. Why? I can think of three
reasons. One. He is either too desirous of control or too uncertain of his power to leave for even a month to attend to matters in the Courts. Which brings me to two. He is unwelcome in the Courts--which, if my information is correct, is a distinct possibility. Amber was supposed to be destroyed, not conquered. Dara promised Amber's destruction, and who has seen her for a century? Someone, probably Mandor, disobeyed orders. What puts him outside Swayvill's reach? Being in Amber. And then there's three. He is obsessed with us. Fiona rebuffed him and now he is playing his games with our generation...."

Hmm...

Surprisingly, or perhaps not, Vincenzo seems quite taken with Larissa. It may have been a mistake to introduce them, as it seems they have a common irritant, something that makes Vincenzo almost giddy with joy. He will be impossible to live with for awhile. I am sure he and Antonia will be hole up somewhere, adjusting their plotting to accomodate my cousin the physicist.

I ... shared a few truths with Larissa. I hope this wasn't a mistake. Vincenzo will certainly suffer if it is, as it was he that pushed one of them to the forefront. I will never forgive him if this goes bad, and that will hurt me as much as it will him. Perhaps more. I have come to depend on him for so much over the years, and that's why this ...obsession of his grieves me so. He claims it has made me dangerously soft. While I would like to argue with him, deep down I fear there may be some truth in that. I am inclined to believe I just need a vacation that lasts more then two or three days.

Oddly, I am suddenly hit with the desire to go dancing.

Ah, well. Now is not the time for philosophical debates with myself. Arden awaits.

Petra: Day 1, Part 2

2007-02-10T11:48:56Z

I hate being in Amber.

No, of course, that is not true. I just hate being in Amber sometimes. This morning was one of those times. We were enjoying a private breakfast on the upper deck. Well, enjoy may be too strong a word. I was still edgy from the dinner with Mandor, and V was no help in soothing that edginess.

But I managed to shove it aside after a few minutes. Oh, I was still unhappy, but he certainly had no intention of making things right, so why bother right then? I was just upsetting myself further. Normally, I am far from this needy, but it was a very stressful night. I spent part of it as a cat, for the love of all that is sacred. Would it have killed him just this once? We were 5 decks above the pier. Who was there to hear?

Pah. Perhaps I shall take up pottery so I can slam clay around.

I told myself I was going to Schwannsee later and blow apart as many of those stupid clay pigeons as they had at the castle. I would name them all and blast them apart. It's very therapeutic, making things go *boom*.

And then Johann Payne managed to not only make the morning worse, but demonstrated quite effectively just how much of a fool he is by trying to gun down Mandor in the street.

Yes, it's true. Gunfire in Amber. I never met him, but I curse Corwin's name for being the first to bring guns to Amber. I am fairly certain Vincenzo curses them both, since their guns work and his do not.

I knew Vincenzo was himself cursing my decision to have breakfast on the deck, out in the open, as it meant he was effectively taken out of the action by his duty to my safety. Which was ridiculous this morning, because as noted above ... guns. Vincenzo couldn't have stopped a bullet from taking me out from two decks below my position, no matter how he tried. But his honor kept him on deck.

Not one to keep collateral damage to a minimum when utter chaos was possible, Johann set fire to the Greasy Spoon before jumping on top of Mandor's coach and opening fire. Merlin, I'm sure, is going to be quite put out by the loss of his breakfast spot. Being a seedy area with old wooden buildings close together, the GS was not the only place to burn.

I managed to raise the alarm for those inside the ship. Goran had already gone down. Dawn was going to be needed to prepare for the injured and much of the rest of the staff was going to need to go on fire watch. A good breeze from the flaming buildings would carry a fire to the ships in dock and that would be a catastrophe. My people are well trained. Sometimes I have thought Vincenzo's training obsession was a bit much. Usually though, I am grateful that I had the sense to put him in charge, and the wit not to interfere because the fire did spread and it did drift to the Queen. Not much damage was sustained, thankfully.

The people will not be blaming this on Mandor. Oh, no. Mandor was standing there, minding his own business. The very picture of the innocent victim. I wonder that Payne cannot see that he is making enemies of the very people he claims to be working to free from Chaos' rule. I believe he has inhaled too many flammables in his firebug sprees. Years ago, I couldn't help but admire his chutzpah, the strength of his convictions. But over time, that has been tempered by his utter lack of discretion, his myopic view of what he thinks needs to be done. I can see and understand his frustration with the waiting game the 'leaders' of the rebellion are playing. I do. But he should face the fact that they are older, Caine is far sneakier, and they surely had networks in place for centuries within Amber. They do not need, nor want, his questionable assistance. For an intelligent man, Johann is more then a little bit stupid.

He is also a terrible shot, since as far I could determine, none of his bullets came close to Mandor. In fact, Goran was the only one hit, and that was an accident.

Of course, it hardly matters at this point. Damien appeared, but he did not show up to help Johann, oh, no. He actually knifed him in the back. A nasty looking blade, from what those closer to the action told me, and coated with something even nastier. Stabbed in the back. I care not what anyone says. Crime of Passion that was not. A crime of passion is face on. You want to see their eyes when your vengeance strikes home. They are not cowardly attacks from behind.

Despite telling me once that he would die for me, but no other, V. suddenly was overtaken by a need to cause me grey hair and quite literally leapt into the fray. I cursed him loudly and then turned around and invoked Fortuna to watch over him. I suppose this comes from being involved with an artist - impulsive and passionate lot that we are. Should I ever take another lover, I swear to you it will be one of those calm, and not so impulsive poets I have maligned my entire life. A female poet, at that.

Oh, who am I kidding? I am certain I would slit my own wrists first.

Vincenzo gave him his crossbow and a bottle of that nasty green stuff, which means we now have to replace it in our arsenal with something else. It does no good to have Security's weapons known to everyone, and especially the ones we have designed specifically for possible troublemakers who may be related to me. I foresee a trip in Vincenzo's future.

I am not clear what happened next, as it was all too confusing. Someone did something that contained the fires and put them out. I do not think it was Sorcery as I first speculated. A spell field that large would have left a
definite feel, and even over the smoke and burning wood, the ozone would have been palatable. Which leaves someone calling up the Pattern, an idea I heard being bandied about when I went down to offer the Prime Minister the use of Dawn and the ship after Merlin's collapse.

Oh, yes. I suppose I should expand that. Merlin just suddenly stiffened, turned three times and dropped like a stone very shortly after the fires died. He was quickly bundled off by Goran and Morgan to the castle. At this time, I haven't a clue what really happened. But I do hope he is all right.

I didn't expect Mandor to take me up on my offer. Certainly not. Surely he is better able to see to Merlin's condition then we are, as our dealings with shape shifting Chaos Lords as patients is limited. But it was the politic thing to do.

Vikund took possession of Payne, and requested Dawn's assistance and a carriage. So that makes Dawn, Goran, and Alex are heading for the castle and into the lion's den, as it were. Vikund will look after Dawn, and Goran can take care of himself. I'm sure Alex will be fine, but I always worry about them when they are that close to things, and separated, they cannot offer the others support.

Mandor did request I make myself available for questioning later. Not that I can see what I could possibly offer an investigation. They were all closer then I was to the goings on. But he seemed to think I might be of some type of assistance later. Vincenzo is both suspicious and concerned, but I cannot really respond to a summons such as that with a security detail. It would send the wrong message entirely; that I do not even trust them even that far. Antonia has studied the laws of Amber, but really, she is going to be short tempered and snappish after last night and this morning, and is liable to start a war single handedly if her buttons are pushed just so, and since Vikund can manage that just by breathing the same air she does, it is best to leave her here.

I have half a mind to take Lily, but I do not feel she is up to dealing with Flora, who is sure to be in a right snit about her poor baby being in the middle of things. I am certain she will think him traumatized for life.

I need to relax, but there is no time. I suppose it is a good thing that I do not have to deal with attempting to sleep this morning, as today as already provided much material to fuel my nightmares. But I am going to have to try and find the time to slip away to Schwansee to work off some steam and try for a nap at least, or tonight will be horrible. But there is so much to do today.

In the meantime, I have a staff meeting to oversee. They are all both tired and yet still hyped from the adrenaline this morning infused them with, and as it ebbs, so will their holds on their tempers. Quite a few of them are short tempered already, if their body language is anything to go by. Vincenzo has that look about him of quiet fury that makes me hope Mandor summons me before the Security meeting. I understand myself well enough to know that he and I would just end up yelling at one another again, and this morning is just not a good time for that.

What was it Giselle said... ah yes. This morning needs a reboot.

Layla: Day 1

2007-02-07T08:46:40Z

[from Under the Rose, a dark Harry Potter/Amber crossover]

Finally!

It's pathetic to want to get back to school this much, isn't it? But I do have really good reasons this year. It'll be my last year at the school, this is our last ride to school in the Black Coach. I can't say I'm gonna miss Caine the Creepy, or his great ugly black hound, and I will not miss the trips along the Black Road because some of that scenery is just too creepy, even for me. But it is our last trip to school, my last turn at Prefect greeter and showing the little firsties how to reach their compartments.

Last year for Quidditch. Darn it.

It'll be the last summer Flynn comes to hang out for the last week of freedom. That'll be weird. Because Flynn is supposed to be here the last week of August. But next year we're supposed to be out in the world as responsible adults.

*snort*

Yeah, that's gonna happen. I adore Flynn to pieces, but he needs a keeper. Scatter brained genius that he is. If Rafek hadn't spelled his wardrobe to color coordinate his clothes, he wouldn't even be able to dress himself properly when he gets in that Artistic Zone of his. Maybe I should see if I can talk one of the minor djinn into bonding with him. At least he knows what it is he's doing with his life.

I dunno. What do I want to be doing this time next year? Other then a certain drop dead gorgeous drummer/prof., that is. I have a couple of options in the apprentice column. It would keep me in Amber awhile longer. But I'm not so much interested in staying in Amber, as I am staying with him. Even when he is all dark and morose and manic.

Oh, where is that blasted coach?!

Mother tells me it's just too soon to plan futures around Us. Maybe she's right. Maybe not. I'm just so impatient to get on with it. There's something so deliciously naughty about about dating a professor, even though everyone knows. Until this year, it was forbidden. Of course, so was membership in the Hellfire Club, and I'm doing both this year. Gods, but I'll hate graduating!

Maybe an apprenticeship isn't a bad idea. I'll talk to my Head of House about it. He's the one I would want to apprentice under anyway. Flamel would be interesting, but UGH! Creepy! And Fiona is just not to be considered! Class with her is hard enough, I can't imagine an apprentice bond with her. But it is my second best subject, so I can't just write it off. I can forget Transfig. It's ok, but not so much that I want to do more then required.

I hear that third year problem child, Lesath has decided he's worthy of being my rival. Idiot. Like I care about him and his little group of thugs. I don't even know why the let him stay, the way magic just goes haywire around him. He's gonna bring the place down on our heads one of these days.

Oh! And we have a creepy first year starting. She's a Pantheras ... cat demon... thing. Honestly, what are they thinking? Mark it-she's going to cause nothing but trouble. She goes into heat just like the big cats at home! Only on a weird cycle. Should that be at a co-ed boarding school, I ask you? What the hell? We'll be finding her in broom closets with who know how many boys. There's already a petiton going around to keep her on a pheromone surpressing potion, or isolated when she's in heat. I am totally signing that. Not that I expect the Headmaster to follow up on it. He let's that magical jinx stay around. We might be better off informing the mothers of the younger male population about the little slut. I'll bet the Headmaster would pay attention to several dozen howlers.

Yes! Rafek says the coach is coming!

More later.

Ta!

Rochelle. Espana Journal. Day 2, Morning

2007-02-07T00:10:14Z

Whoa. I mean, really. Whoa!

It was a joke!

"What's for dessert?"

"Me."

Who knew they were in the mood to share? As the Unicorn is my witness, I will never ask Santa for anything again, because nothing could possibly be better then that.

I know it's going to sound odd, and wrong, but now I need to talk to Mom. I never expected that level of power to build up. A Triad is a mighty and glorious thing, and I even knew that from the Tantric theory I studied. Reality was way beyond what I had been led to expect. When I started to radiate with the Magic, I had to channel it and the Professor was the lucky guy. I'm pretty sure he currently has enough magic in him to cast spells for a couple of days. He was last night, but I'm not sure he realized it. When he wakes up, I'll test him. It opens a whole new avenue of study, and is something that the three of us are going to have to sit down and have a serious talk about. The possibilities are mind boggling.

Mom is going to want to talk to them both too. It makes me giggle just to think of it. Its not everyday the mother of the woman you spent the night nailing to the wall (and the floor, and the chair, and well, everything), wants you to tell her all about it. I suspect Captain Fantastic may even be a tad uncomfortable with that conversation.

I better not sit in on those. I'm sure my giggling will only annoy them.

I should, by all rights, be exhausted and still sprawled upstairs, sleeping it off. But I'm vibrating with energy this morning. I've already fixed a huge breakfast- from scratch, thank you, and with my own hands. Not a spell one. I went to work in the gardens, but, alas, the gardeners who keep up this place do a very thorough job. I have danced, and played, and written out a fantastic scene for the next book, and still I want to do something, anything. Something exalting and amazing and MAGIC!

It's singing to me in a way it never has before. I can feel it now, wrapping around the life inside me and whispering its lullabies and secrets to our unborn daughter, weaving its protections in and around her. When I still and look inside myself, it is beautiful and awe inspiring, and humbling. It's heady stuff.

I'm going to the beach where its open and I can call my magic into my hands and see what I can weave from it.

I feel, for the moment, invincible.

Rochelle - Espana Journal - Day 1

2007-02-05T04:16:58Z

It's odd around here right now.

They're both here: two of the most important men in my life. Ben and Benjamin. So alike, yet not at all. Ben, for instance? Not all amused by my fantasy remark. I knew Benjamin would be, but then, I've shared that with him before and, oh, was that a memorable evening!

Judging by Ben's reaction, I'm pretty sure that's going to end up staying in the realm of fantasy. Just as well, I would quite probably hurt myself in the reality of it. Or pass out.

Still, it's perfect having them both here. I was so worried about Ben's reaction to the introduction. Mine and Benjamin's relationship has always been a bit weird, and I made a point in explaining it all to Ben before I even let them see each other. But it turned out my concerns were unfounded. They really are a lot alike, which shouldn't surprise me as much as it does, seeing as one is the shadow of the other. Even the timbre of their voices is similiar, I can tell that their thought patterns are too, as they have this annoying habit already of not needing to do more then allude to something and the other one knows exactly what they're talking about. Really, it's quite vexing to have to remind them to pretend someone in the room isn't a shadow of the others and has a much more colorful thought process, as opposed to their logical ones. Vexing. Really.

Ben's a bit leery of what people are going to say after meeting Benjamin, and then me announcing my pregancy at some point after that, but I don't really care what they think. I think it's going to be hilarous. Dad's face will be really amusing for just a split second. But I'm sure he'll catch on quick enough. He has had to deal with Gily and I for most of our lives, so I'm sure he'll see the humor of it right off.

Besides, now that Mother has explained her and Dad's position on their daughters dating Family, I'm no longer worried about Dad's catching on to the truth. Sure, it's not exactly what he had in mind, and I'm sure it'll be a bit weird for him because he's significantly younger then his daughter's boyfriend, but he'll also know that I couldn't possibly be in better hands. Although I'm sure he won't want to follow that to it's logical conclusion.

Great.... my head just had to go into Dad's reaction should his elder brother be his son in law at some later date. My child's family tree is going to have more twists then forks if I'm not careful.

Ugh. Headache.

Gily and Merlin are offical now, it seems. I'm happy for her, even if it did seem to take FOREVER! for them to actually do more then blush and not see what was in front of them They're quite cute together, and Merlin is a great guy. Even if his personal branch of the family tree is also a bit twisted. It must kind of bite to know that you're the result of a Chaosian Breeding Project. How weird would that be? But then, from all I've seen and heard, they're a bunch of odd ducks anyway.

I had originally planned on just hanging out here in Espana for the whole pregnancy thing, but unless at least one of these guys is staying to keep me company, I may go mad. I did bring scripts, and I have to keep dancing or I'll suffer for it later, and, well, I can sort though my outlines and decide what Angelique de Amour story to work on next, but a person needs real people once in awhile before we start talking to the sand crabs.

I probably shouldn't complain. Coming here was my idea, and the cage is exceptionally well gilded, but still. Cage. I only just got here less then a day ago and I'm already restless. Maybe it's the hormones.

Nah. It's always been a bad idea to confine me. Even if it is self confinement. Especially self-confinement.

Maybe I'll call Vinta and see if she can visit for a few days.

Ever since all that weirdness with the UFO in Amber started, I've tried to stay out of it. As if UFOs over Arden wasn't weird enough, dead uncles showing up can really put one off getting out of bed in the mornings, and Dworkin - from what little I heard from him after that aborted invasion attempt by one of the uncles formerly known as DEAD - is as cracked as the glaze on a Ming vase.

The Bayle women are alright, as alright as they can be with the shady Wolfe women, but I'll feel better when Mom and I can find Lord Bayle and get them all back to where they belong...and when Caine gets back to me after his investigations.

Well, the boys are huddled together discussing military history (yawn), so I think I'll go see of there is anything in my closet here suitably stunning for the Cornation, or if I need to convince one of my dears to escort me back to Naw'orlens to get something made.

Oh, bugger. Benjamin's telling Ben about our little adventures in Troy. I better go defend myself, though it's hardly MY fault that Menelaus was a colossal git, and that Seer just had to go. If she had been any sort of Seer, she would have Seen that coming, now wouldn't she?

Oi! I did not have a thing for Paris!

Petra Journal Entry Day1, Part 1

2007-02-05T00:47:22Z

What a horrid, horrid day.

He was lying, of course, V was, when he told me he did not have time to let me know Mandor was coming. Did he think me blind and stupid? Neither he, nor the Ambassador, dress as they were for work, and Ingrey had enough time to collect a gift for Sorcha before they arrived. I seriously doubt he just dashed into a gift shop along the way to pick up. Can you even imagine Ingrey asking Mandor if he would wait in the carriage for him while he nipped in and picked up a token for his favorite?

It is laughably ridiculous.

You would think by now, I would have become accustomed to the utter bastard that V. can be when we are in Amber. Part of this problem lies in there being no one else here that knows that other side of him, the side of him that Maria, Sophie, Alfred and Giselle see. The side I see when we are alone, when we are just Maria'a daughter and her lover, or the Lord and Lady of Schwannsee.

I'm sure some of them just do not want to see what I do. Vincenzo certainly doesn't. But he surely knows me well enough to know that I am not the type to fall for the Utter Bastard, to let myself be taken in by Amber's V... One would think. Antonia firmly believes I have been bewitched, which is completely ridiculous.

But I digress. V and I will be discussing this later, as I am tired of it. I am not that naive little Helgram girl he's toying with, and I will certainly bite back.

So it was that I found myself greeting an unannounced Chaos Lord, and not just any Chaos Lord. We get those quite often. No, this was Mandor. I could almost taste the unease from my staff, though they hid it magnificently. The visit may have caught us unprepared, but by the time he stepped off that last step in front of me, they were all aware, knew what needed to be done, and were doing it.

I was so angry at V. that didn't hold back a whit from Mandor. According to Allegra, Gino and Talen were almost hyperventlating just watching. I flirted with the Prime Minister, and while coy wouldn't have been believable, entranced worked quite nicely. I knew standing there that something was changing, and I did nothing to stop it. I knew it wouldn't escape Mandor, I downplayed things to him later. But it was worth it just to see the look on V's face on the stairs. I know later - when there is time for it -V will ask once again about some things, which I may be inclined to answer...

But only after he explains just what he was hoping to achieve by wishing a contract with Zarina. I suspect he fancies he's onto something I've done on the sly. Which would imply he underestimates me again. Won't he be in for a surprise? In the next few days, I will need to bring her from where she is offically stashed among Nasir's women.

As you can see, I am quite put out with him at the moment. Again, I digress.

Mandor's request for a private dinner didn't really come as a surprise. Certainly he did not spring himself on us just for the wine celler, or a card game, and I couldn't have imagined Mandor being interested in any of the staff - with the exception of Zarina or Aura, whose origins alone make them stand out.

But what Mandor hoped to accomplish with dinner, I am still unsure. Oh, he asked a small favor, and one that is no great hardship for me to agree to, but I am certain that is not all. He offered to teach me to use this "recently discovered" gift at a later time. I admit, even knowing what I do about the man, the offer is a very tempting one. There is no one in Amber better to teach me, even if I could stand being around them that long.

Which is another thing: the Chaosites give me the feeling of an icy hand at the base of my skull when they are near. I have managed, over the years, to surpress it when necessary, as it is distracting. But I didn't get that with Mandor. There was a cold, icy fist in the pit of my stomach, but that was just nerves. Perhaps it was just that I hyper-prepared myself in the few minutes I had before he arrived, as Ingrey's presence had no effect on me either.

Yes, I know. The socially correct term is "Chaosian". I don't care, and it is my journal.

Ah well. Something to discuss with someone more inclined to the theories of being the Blood of Amber then I am.

I must admit, now that I am safely away from the subject and no longer on the cusp of a panic, that Mandor is an interesting study. For the moments when I can disconnect what he is, the man is fascinating and alluring. He moves like a large jungle cat, and exudes sensuality the way I have only seen before in the Atlanteans. He has beautiful, long-fingered hands, mis-matched eyes that threaten to drown me, and finely chisled features that had me aching for a paintbrush in a way I haven't in weeks. He's tall, and lean, predatory, and the most Alpha of any male I have ever met, and that includes Vincenzo, and Nasir.

I am perfectly aware that Mandor is a dangeous creature. Only a fool would forget that, and despite his teasing and flirting and Father's dire warnings, I did not forget that. He is a Chaos Lord, a Logrus Master, a Shape Shifter powerful enough to shift others (specifically-me), a Sorcerer of noteworthy ability that I have experienced for myself, and the man who pulls Merlin's strings. It is not secret that Merlin is a puppet king, that it's Mandor's hand that rules and directs Amber. I have a healthy fear of what he could do to me, to my people, if the whim took him. He is, as it turns out Steven Vincent Benét's Devil, and under that cool, and elegant facade lurks the monster of Sorcha's fears.

He asked over dinner why I have never attempted to seduce Merlin. Honestly, the notion never even occured to me. I don't care if he is king, political position never mattered that much to me. Merlin never ceases to remind me of a motherless boy with no direction, no focus beyond his own desires and needs. That suits me fine in a client, but not in a lover. If I wanted children of my own, I would have them.

Then he asked if Jurt had even enjoyed my attentions. Jurt? I laughed. Jurt never crossed my mind, though for different reasons then my lack of interest in Merlin. Perhaps Jurt does have a 'bad boy' side, the type that attracts me, but I have never seen it. Nor am I interested in finding it. What I have seen holds no interest for me, and I imagine that 'icy finger at the base of my skull' would interfere in the relationship.

"You know, I might begin to think you had some sort of prejudice against our House."

Goddess. I laughed at that more. I expect that to lead to an opportunity in the future to prove to him that I don't carry such a prejudice. Truly, my prejudice is not based on what House of Chaos they are from. It's much more finely honed then that. I am not certain I would even call it prejudice. Certainly, my lack of desire for Merlin has nothing to do with some ridiculous House, nor does my lack of interest in Jurt as a lover have anything to do with his membership in said House.

Mandor did say something intriguing though.

"... And I believe that together ... we could be formidable. A power that would only be a little lessened by the total lack of trust we would have in each other."

On the one hand, it is amusing in its truthfulness. Although I did point out that for someone who totally lacks trust in him, I did allow him to blindfold me more then was healthy. I am sure that had more to with my knowing the dinner was not totally without witnesses, and that help was a loud noise away, then any level of trust extended to Mandor.

On the other hand - were I one for power grabbing - an alliance with Mandor would be ideal.

How fortunate for all concerned that I am not. Political power only interests me in that I need to know where it lies for my own protection, and I do know where it lies in Amber.

For now.

Where it moves to in the future, I cannot say. I know where I would rather it lie, and that is only so I no longer have to hide things from the majority of those around me. I hate that. The acting, the lies, they wear on one, and being involved with a man who wears many of the same masks I do does not make it easier. In fact, I believe it is worse. The things I need, the words I need to hear, cannot always be given when I need them. I hate that too. Hate that I can't have them, a part of me hates that I even need them.

It is those layers of masks that present me with a new problem: Mandor hinted at wishing to know me better. My heart belongs to another, but the true depth of that relationship must remain hidden to all in Amber. I have no valid excuse to give Mandor to rebuff his interest, and I must keep in mind that protecting those under me is in my job description. But does my job extend to dating Mandor should it come to that?

I am afraid that it just might at that.

Vincenzo is going to have a fit.

The View From the Keyboard - Mandor's First Visit

2007-02-02T15:51:16Z

Talen's fingers danced over the ivory and ebony keys of the piano while he kept an eye on the slowly filling main lounge. He had the best view in the house on the nights he played. Looked like a slow night, but that suited him just fine. They could use a couple of slow nights after this past month. Everyone needed a break.

He looked up at the owner of the fingers in his hair that interrupted his musings and smiled at his boss. Normally that would annoy him, but she couldn't help herself, even when just passing by like that. He liked that she wasn't the type that felt she had to oversee every little thing, like what he planned on playing that night. He liked the way she felt free enough around them to still be herself, and not just their boss. He also liked watching her walk away. The view was a delightful thing.

He started as someone dropped inelegantly on the bench beside him and turned to give Gino a mock glare. But Gino was enjoying the same view he had been. She may be the one that paid their salaries, but she had the nicest backside on the ship.

"I think," Gino said thoughtfully. "That the next time one of us goes home, we need to drop in and personally thank your aunt for that dress."

Talen chuckled and watched Aura walk across the room. He nudged Gino with his shoulder. "And for that one too."

"L'elogio è a Venus," Gino agreed softly. "Have you....?"

"Aura?" Talen asked without taking his attention off the floor. "Nah." At Gino's look of surprise he explained. "She's a bit scary for some reason."

"Predatory," Gino offered with a grin. "Si. You should see if you can talk Petra into taking you with her next time she goes to Atlantis. Change your whole outlook. Antonia's scarier though. That woman would eat you alive."

"Speaking of ..." Talen said, trailing off as he tilted his head at the woman in question now talking to Petra. They watched Antonia's agitation and Petra's growing amusement. "Wonder what that's about?"

Gino shrugged. "Doesn't concern me, from the looks of it. Knowing Antonia it could be anything." He glanced towards the bar and nudged Talen. "That could be fun."

"Jupiter's balls, I would rather walk over hot coals then try my luck with her," Talen hissed. "She'd kill me without trying. Graci, no. I like my women soft, not corded steel. If I wanted that, I'd sleep with Alex."

"Coward," Gino scoffed.

"I don't see you chasing after her," Talen pointed out.

The cardplayer smirked. "I'm waiting for the perfect time," was his lofty reply.

It was Talen's turn to scoff. "Whatever. Look at Petra."

The pair watched again as Portia whispered into Petra's ear. She was certainly not the bearer of good news, judging by the familiar look of annoyance on Petra's face. The young men at the piano exchanged a look and winced.

"You're my alibi," Gino stated nervously.

Talen raised an eyebrow in amusement. "Ooookay..."

"Nothing!" the other said defensively. "It's just in case. You know..." He fell silent as a happily smirking Portia walked quickly to converse with Sergio at the bar. "Three to one this involves The Unnamed One."

Talen turned to watch Portia wrap up her conversation with Sergio and walk back over to take a position near Petra as Antonia walked up the stairs. The security agent was still smirking.

"No bet. It's one of the few things that it could involve if Vincenzo sent Portia instead of Alex and make Portia that happy."

"Damn," Gino muttered. "We need new staff. Everybody knows everybody else's visual cues." He brightened and smirked himself. "On a brighter note, if this does involve her being annoyed with him-again, I know what I'm doing after work."

"You wish," Talen snorted. Armand handed Petra a glass of what even Talon knew was Atlantean Fire Wine. "Depends on how upset she is and what he's done this time. But you know as well as I do he would have to kill one of us before she turned him away."

Gino shrugged, his mood unaffected by Talen's remark. Talen turned his attention to the keyboard and they shared companionable silence until Gino suddenly stiffened beside him.

"I dii li proteggono," Gino breathed.

Talen's head jerked up in alarm. Request to the gods were not to be made lightly. His breath caught. Oh, no, no, no. "Oh, this is different. In an alarming sort of way."

"Look at her," Gino whispered quickly as Petra greeted the Prime Minster. "Oh, he's done it this time. Vincenzo must be furious."

Talen nodded. "Showing up with the Prime Minister and no warning. Some friend." The pair fell quiet again as the watched the action at the base of the stairs.

Gino inhaled sharply. "Merda. What is she doing?"

Talen just stared as something about Petra changed right there in front of his eyes. "Oh, this is bad."

"Damn. There's my game. Tell me later what I miss." Gino got up quickly to meet the group at the top of the stairs while trying to skirt Mandor entirely and get away from the slowly unfolding drama.

Talen just faintly nodded at Gino's retreating back. He was watching so intently that he nearly jumped out of his skin when someone else whispered in his ear.

"What's going on?"

"Woman, don't scare me like that!" Talen hissed at the brunette who took Gino's place beside him.

"Is that... is that Mandor?" Allegra asked in amazement.

"No, it's that Easter Bunny Sorcha told us about," Talen snapped as he turned his attention back to the debacle on the stairs. He briefly wondered when Petra's sense of humor had started rubbing off on him but decided to worry about it later.

"Tell me I'm not seeing her flirt with him. Please." Even if he stopped playing, which he didn't dare do at that point, Talen still wouldn't have been able to hear what it was Petra said that froze Gino in his tracks like a trapped rabbit.

"Pretty sexy Easter Bunny." Allegra smirked at him. "And, I believe she is. But he started it. Oh....look at that. She's not cutting him any slack tonight."

Talen groaned. "You know what? I am going straight to bed when as soon as the bar closes. I don't even want to be around when she opens up in the staff meeting tomorrow, because someone is going to get yelled at - or about- and Vincenzo is not going to be a nice man at all."

"Oh, relax," she laughed. "It won't be you, and Vincenzo is always in a snit when Anansi is onboard. What's with Gino?"

"Why are you asking me?" Talen didn't even know what he was playing anymore, but since no one was giving him dirty looks, it must be all right. But the rest was a beat longer then it should have been when Petra led Mandor to the stairs that led to her office and her private chambers. Talen's alarm went up a notch. Or ten.

"Oh, she is a bold one," Allegra observed with admiration despite Talen's look of disbelief leveled at her. "Alone with the big, scary, Prime Minister and he doesn't care that everyone knows it. They make a handsome couple though, don't they?" She continued over the muttered cursing from beside her. "Oh, see? Portia's keeping an eye on things." She patted Talen's shoulder reassuringly as the remaining group on the stairs split up. It didn't really help.

"Oh, there goes Antonia." Talen sighed. "What's she doing? Is she armed?"

Allegra shifted her position so she could see the gallery and laughed. "She isn't carrying anything breakable."

"This can only lead to tears," Talen shook his head as Antonia stalked towards Vikund's position. "Or someone's body floating in the bay."

Allegra looked at him again. "You know something, Talen? You don't look like a pessimist."

"Normally, I am not," he defended. "But I know without being told that Vincenzo is furious, Antonia is going to be her usual charming self where that man is concerned - which always exasperates Petra, and Petra is going to want bloodshed when this is all over. You watch: The staff meeting is going to be a very angry place."

Allegra glanced towards Petra's office door and Talen's eyes followed. They widened a moment later when they didn't see the subtle color change in the mirror that signaled the lights were burning in the office.

"Maybe not," Allegra laughed lowly.

"You don't think..."

Allegra could only shrug. "I suppose we'll find out tomorrow."

Talen gaped at her. "Petra and Mandor? Are you mad?"

"There are worse things she could be doing."

"Like what?" Talen demanded.

Allegra tilted her head with a thoughtful expression. "Morgan."

The piano player scowled. "Like that would happen."

"Merlin?"

"Please."

"Hmm.. what's his name? Jurt?"

Talen snorted.

"The infamous rebel Johann?" Allegra was grinning now and Talen couldn't help but smile back as they continued their game of Let's Pair up the Boss.

"Not even."

"Damien."

"Mm....maybe."

"Mr. Anansi."

They exchanged a look.

"Let's not go there," Talen advised.

Allegra seemed to agree. "Oh! I know! Princess Florimel's boy!"

Talen laughed outright.

"No, okay. Julian."

"Nope."

"Why not?"

"For one, he would have to come out of his trees. For another, he's not her type."

Allegra fisted her hands on her hips with a good natured scowl. "And I suppose you know her type."

"Actually, I do," Talen said as the music changed under his fingers. "I've been watching for a long time, and I see things. You notice Gino and Vincenzo were declared off limits for quite some time until a few years ago."

"I did," she agreed slowly. "What do they have in common?"

"Not a lot," he admitted. "But Gino is very good-looking. Some might even say pretty. And Vincenzo? He is very much an Alpha male. You'll notice this is true for all the men who work here." He look at her out of the corner of his eyes as she suddenly became more interested in the staff around her as he continued. "And the Prime Minster, I feel it's safe to say, is both. So I really shouldn't be surprised that Petra was willing to let herself fall for whatever he was saying, or at least listen."

"What about.."

Talen interrupted her quickly and forcefully. "We are not going to go
there."

He continued playing while she huffed and went back observing. "I know your type too."

"Oh, really?" she scoffed.

"Yes," he smiled most charmingly.

"And what is my type, Mr. Observant?"

Talen turned his greatest weapon on her; puppy dog eyes and a sweet smile.

"Me."

She looked amused. Talen pouted. Allegra smiled at him. "And why do you say that?"

"Because," he shrugged. "I see things. I see what kind of man catches your real attention on the floor. I know you're always down here when I'm practicing, and you and Petra are the ones who make a point to talk to me every night I'm sitting here. Go out of your way for it, actually."

"Hmm," she responded with a shrewd look. "So I have been caught. Whatever shall we do about it?"

Talen smiled down at the keyboard briefly before looking back at her. "I can offer a few suggestions."

She raised a delicately shaped eyebrow, which he took for the encouraging sign it was.

"Miss the staff meeting with me?"

Allegra's foot tapped in time with the music as she watched him, her eyes sliding down to watch the way his fingers danced and caressed the keys. She slowly let her gaze travel back up to his and Talen's heart rate went up marginally.

"You know that depends on what happens the rest of the night," she finally said and he could happily swear he heard a note of regret in her voice. "After?"

He would rather not have gone to the meeting, but this was Allegra and he had been working up to this for weeks. He smiled slowly.

"Deal."

He beamed and she chuckled. "Until then," she smiled. "I better go mingle before Antonia has my head." Allegra ruffled his hair and impulsively kissed his cheek before taking her leave.

Talen watched her walk away apprectively and then turned his attention to the rest of the room. Score one for the piano player, he smirked to himself.

Antonia disappeared again. Huh. That was odd. But he spotted Janelle at the spot on the base of the stairs so didn't worry about, nor did he worry about Ramon swaggering back onto the main floor. The duelist made a beeline for the bar and spotted Talen by himself.

Talen sighed. He could never understand why they seemed to think it was bad to leave him alone.

"Buenos noches, Ramon," said Talen as Ramon dropped down beside him with a bit more grace then Gino had.

"Ah, buenos noches to you, as well, my young and talented friend," Ramon grinned. "How is your evening?"

"Oh, peachy," Talen humphed. "Where have you been?"

"Ah, keeping the boss' little friend out of harm's way," he said gravely, despite Talen's snickering. "It is a dirty job, but someone must take responsibility."

"Poor Ramon," snickered the pianist.

"Si..." the dark man sighed. He paused to sip his drink. "I had to explain Zarina to him. I am still not certain he understands ..."

Talen's fingers stumbled and he quickly turned into into a run as he turned to look incredeulously at Ramon. Surely he had misheard.

"Zarina?" he hissed in disbelief.

"Si," Ramon replied lightly. "It seems he just needed the correct incentive."

Talen blinked stupidly. "Zarina? Are you mad?"

Ramon frowned. "No... you do not think he can handle her?"

"No, I certainly do not," Talen snorted. "Sometimes, Ramon, I think Antonia is correct and you took a few too many to the head. Zarina...with Anansi. Please...If I could come up with a scenario that wasn't pathetic, I would laugh."

"That's enough," Ramon responded defensively. "He cannot possibly be that bad. Would Petra put up with him that long if he were? It is not as if she does not have options."

"Petra is not a harem girl from Persa with certain ... conditioned responses," the younger man said delicately after a careful moment of consideration. He narrowed his eyes at Ramon's twitch. "You didn't do something really stupid like offer to slip his name in, did you?"

Ramon pretended to ignore him and sipped his drink. Talen gaped at him.

"Do me a favor, Ramon. Don't sit by me in the meeting."

"Why?" asked the puzzled older man.

"Because I don't want to risk getting hit when you get things thrown at you," Talen replied with a shake of his head.

Ramon just waved a hand dismissivly. "You worry too much."

Talen fumed quietly while Ramon kept an eagle eye on the proceedings. Until he suddenly got to his feet. "Ah, excitement."

Talen looked up and spotted the King and company and shrugged. "It's just Merlin."

Ramon grinned down at him. "Ah, yes. But recall, if you will, Petra's surprise for him. Excuse me, I must go fetch one of the players."

Talen just rolled his eyes at the retreating duelist. For such an intelligent man, he could be really quite daft.

He watched with half an eye as the King was presented with the Sisters of Light and Shadow and smirked at the reponse they got from their objective. Armand's suggestion had been a good one, but then they knew it would be. What man is going to turn away twins?

Yes, that was Chadwick, Talen decided. They had all seen his dossier when he arrived in Amber the first time. They just had never expected to see him here. Oh, yes. Lily was an excellent idea. She'd take care of him.

Talen's eyes drifted across the room and then followed Anansi as he went to join Ramon in irritating Portia. Ramon, he though, must have a death wish or a fondness for pain. Antonia and Portia. The man lived dangerously. Or he was just an idiot. Talen couldn't decide.

Talen was shaking his head when Aura joined him on the bench. "Did I miss anything?" she asked in that sultry, sing song voice that gave most men chills.

"Er.... not really," Talen shrugged. "All the good stuff is going on behind the scenes."

She wrinkled her nose and looked up at Petra's office mirror. "They still up there?"

"Yes," Talen groused. "And I shudder to think about it."

"I think we all do," Aura muttered lowly. "Ah, well," she added in a normal tone, albeit a bit smug. "I'm off to prepare the Atlantean room. Sorcha wants to do something interesting with her Ambassador."

Talen raised an eyebrow and Aura smirked. "Yes, exactly."

"I don't really need to know that this early in the evening," Talen groused. "Off with you, you horrid tease."

Aura just laughed lightly. "See you in the morning." With that she slipped away and vanished through a staff entrance.

Finally, Talen thought. Left to his own devices. For awhile at least. But it was still another couple of hours before Edward appeared at his elbow. He looked up at the older man and with a hopeful expression.

"Please tell me your here to take over."

"That I am, kid. Off with you," Edward smiled affably.

"Thank the gods," Talen said as he wrapped up what he had been playing. "I think I'll go hide in my room until we dock."

Edward chuckled. "Considering all that's gone on, I can't say that's a bad idea. Goodnight."

Talen stood and stretched before flashing the man a smile. "'Night."

On his way to his rooms, Talen spotted Aura lecturing to a seemingly attentive Morgan and just shook his head. If they could bottle whatever it was that made that woman tick, they would all be very rich.

But that was a thought for another time. For now, his bed called and who was he to deny the demands of comfy furniture?