Before the Duel

Havelock coaches Constance in swordplay and reads his cards to see how the duel may turn out

Lord Havelock,

Would you do me the favour of calling on me at your earliest convenience? I find myself in need of some duelling practice and would welcome the both the practice and the critique from one who is so graceful.

Regards Constance

Dear Lady Constance,

I am never too busy to be at your call and honoured that you would ask for my aid. I have recently finished my latest painting of Princess Deirdre and need a break from my easel. Life after all is not just art.

Where should we meet? Could House Pheon provide a place to spar, they have my word I have no intention to injure their guest. Or would you prefer more neutral ground?

Best wishes Havelock

Lord Havelock

Thank you for sparing time away from the easel. I am sure House Pheon will have suitable space and will ask Lord Ariel if you can be received.

Constance

******************

Havelock finds Mirfak and explains he is going to House Pheon to spar with family. Then DM+589 escorts him there.

Constance speaks with Ariel to tell him that she has invited Lord Havelock to help improve her fighting style. Could he arrange for a suitable space for them to spar in together with drinking water and privacy – although Lord Ariel’s presence is always welcome.

When Havelock arrives, having travelled by diverse ways, he politely stores DM+589 in the demon closet. Then he is shown into a large groin-vaulted cloister surrounding a purple grassed lawn. The door through which he his directed by his Pheon escort is the only one apparent leading into the area.

Looking between the pillars of the paved passage he sees two figures on the broad sward that forms the central space standing around a collection of padded jacks, masks and sparing swords. In one corner of the cloister a fountain springs from the wall and next to it sits a table with goblets.

“Constance,” he cries to call her attention, “as always the paths through Chaos seem long.”

“But never dull, Lord Havelock,” she responds with warmth. She formally introduces him to Lord Ariel (who takes a seat and spectates quietly) and comes to the matter at hand.

“So Havelock, I find myself almost certainly having to duel with my Father,” she pauses. “The circumstances are idiotic, and the fault mine – but should I not take this course there are potential consequences of which Lord Ariel has been generous enough to inform me of. I have seen you fight and, of everyone I have seen fight, I think in ability you far outweigh me but in style we are well matched. I feel that my swordsmanship has become lazy whilst I’ve been here and I would like to spar with you and if you can remind me of how to fight against a competent swordsman, I would be grateful for it.”

Havelock moves towards them making a polite nod towards Lord Ariel who smiles and nods back. Then, looking back at Constance, Havelock gently shakes his head, “If most of my tutors at Lafeyette could hear you they would be aghast.” Assuming a gentlemanly Confederacy accent, he grins broadly “Frankly, my dear, as a lady it would trouble you to understand, but a point of honour should never be considered idiotic.”

Now next to Constance, he resumes his normal tone, “Fortunately for today, I plan to channel Gunnery Captain Aloysius Moore, who had a much more… practical view on combat.”

He flicks up a sparring sword with his toe, catches it in his right hand. Quickly he performs a number of flashing lunges and blocks at air, snapping back to a duelist’s salute. “Avoir du courage then, ma brave dame. No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.”

Constance shakes her head ruefully. “I doubt not the issue of honour.” She looks very intently at Havelock with ‘No one can make me feel inferior without my consent’ ringing in her head. She picks up a sword she liked the look of earlier. “No cheating with magic, Havelock!” She salutes. “En Garde!”

“I have not seen you fight with clarity,” he says as he swings into the en guarde. “At the Duomo my attention was considerably engaged. His blade floats casually between them. “However, I have seen you dance. Come at me and let me see your mettle.”

Constance attacks even as Havelock completes his invitation, making an immediate feint to his right guard and seeking to flick the actual attack to his heart. She is quick and very, very nimble with both foot and finger work.

Havelock expected a rapid attack and directs it away into clear space. Although not as fast as Constance he sees the subtle read in the turn of the wrist as her point moved away to his chest.

Maintaining his defence and studying her strikes he asks, “So what makes you think you might be inferior to Prince Julian?”

Constance watches Havelock carefully, thinking through her response. “I am inferior in Strength. Generally, I can nearly hold my own against him. If he is below par, I can best him in practice. But that is in practice – not when we are pitched against each other with our respective honours, his stubbornness and my wilfulness at stake. It is another matter. I have to avoid him taking advantage of his Strength against me and find a way to use Grace to my advantage. And he knows my fighting style well, Havelock.”

By now both have already begun to get a measure of each other’s styles and prowess. Havelock’s swordsmanship puts him right up there with the likes of Corwin and Bleys – he’s damned good, much better than Constance – he is naturally quick and nimble.

But Constance is also good, much better than any other woman Havelock’s ever met, but she’s not a patch on Havelock or Bleys – on the other hand she’s closer to Havelock in ability than Brand was!!! Both are in no doubt that Havelock would win a serious duel and win quickly, but Constance is good enough that she won’t lose instantly. Presumably Julian is somewhere between the two in prowess.

Both have styles that emphasise nimbleness and footwork but while Havelock’s style is typical fencing school optimised to suite his talents, Constance fences as if taught by someone from another planet, with constant shifts of angle and much in-and-out and side-to-side footwork. It’s a style Havelock has never seen before but he can’t deny it’s coherent and effective.

Interestingly, both styles are designed to minimise the chances of a corps-a-corps so neither has yet tested the other’s Strength. Nor have either tried much fakery yet.

“Yes, I am aware he probably has much experience of fighting the fey and of studying your style in particular.” Knowing just being defensive will not stretch the woman facing him nor inform him of her further capabilities he rapidly switches up into a spate of quick attacks. During this time he tries to beat her blade to test her strength. “I cannot, however, adjust your style in a few hours of sparing.”

Constance anticipates a beat attack coming in – she is expecting something like that – and she works with her intuition. She does her level best to avoid it and spins her body to Havelock’s offside looking for an attack line in.

“My style is part of me. I want your challenge and your critique Cousin,” she responds.

Havelock is ready to switch back to defence but he is creating openings to try to get a feel for what she sees and uses. This is sparring so he is happy to get touched for more information about strength and style.

Constance’s fencing style isn’t just outré, it’s balletic – Havelock spots an actual arabesque! Any mistakes with it could be embarrassing but with Constance’s Grace her moves are faultless. Havelock finds it almost impossible to beat her outright with a feint, while he has to be very careful indeed not to fall for hers. One time he thought he had her but she pirouetted away.

Of course, if he wanted to just beat her he could abandon the pretence and simply cut through her guard – he’s fast enough and his technique good enough that he could do that. But when he tests her Strength with a beat, both are surprised to find themselves evenly matched – in fact if anything, Constance is the stronger!

Constance pushes her advantage with the beat looking to land a hit but Havelock’s own neat footwork avoids her riposte.

Havelock breaks contact and lowers his blade, shaking his head slightly. “Constance, my dear, you are probably the most skilful lady I have crossed swords with and your style is exquisitely exotic. As a result I’m left with twin dilemmas regarding your request.”

Constance slightly frowns at Havelock’s use of ‘My dear’ but is very actively listening to what he has to say.

“First, I am not sure I can tune my attacking finely enough not to fight at my best against such skill. Your guard has holes and fighting in that way I would demonstrate where you are vulnerable. However, if I engage to challenge you I will find numerous touches. Are you happy to mainly learn by the blows you take?

“Second, your style is a dance: I can beat it, but not really critique it. If I were to suggest improvements, these would by necessity be changes. How much is this style part of you that parts cannot be changed?”

Constance nods once, briefly. “Lord Havelock. I appreciate your honesty. I think the best solution is that I learn my more obvious faults through hits and we have protective jacks and masks available to you so we should make use of them. I certainly don’t want to limp into a duel and I would feel remorse if I were to hit you by accident and cause you pain.”

Constance sounds slightly defensive. “The Rangers taught me what to do with a sword. My fighting style was developed by my tutors... elsewhere. My style reflects part of my heritage, suits my particular abilities and is intrinsically a part of me. Much as my Father disapproves of my style, even he acknowledges that for me, it is very effective. I have at this point no intention of changing it. But I am interested in covering up the holes so if you would work with me to improve my techniques that would be very helpful.

“Some water, perhaps my Lord and then I will get some protection on?” She smiles, assuming that he would like a drink, thanks Ariel for the provisioning and pours water in goblets for the three of them. “I regret that compared to my cousins, I am not an edifying spectacle when fighting, Lord Ariel. My dancing is far fairer to observe!”

At this point Constance finds the liquid in the jug is not water – neither is it wine, but a sparkling clear drink with a subtle flavour, clean and refreshing.

Havelock picks up a jack and pulls it on. Then, taking a proffered goblet, quietly drains it. After a moment he adds an enquiry to their host, “I am interested, Lord Ariel, what is your initial impression?”

Ariel has been watching the sparring with wrapt attention but looks surprised to be addressed directly. “Oh you are both far superior to my humble accomplishments – House Pheon is not as martial a house as, say, Petrus, Indra or even Sumi. You both show much Grace in your swordplay but I regret I must contradict you, Constance, though Havelock has superior prowess you, Lady, fight as if it were a dance. You forget I have seen you dance and, now I have seen you fight, I find the two indistinguishable.”

Constance considers the opinions of both lords as she drinks from her goblet. “You are both correct of course, my Lords. I love dance more than almost everything. The movement, coordination and sheer joy it gives me – a break from my duties in Arden. Fighting is different.” She shrugs. “Exotic my style is here my Lords but I should like to tangle with Lord Torc some time to see if my fe... style is matched.”

She finishes her drink and glances to Ariel. “Lord Ariel. That was delicious. Could it be made available on the day please?”

Ariel nods graciously.

Having finished buckling on his own, Havelock watches her donning a jack. Grabbing a mask, he states “Accidents can happen cousin. However briefly they might last, scars would not become either of our faces.” First he helps Constance with hers then with Lord Ariel’s aid secures his own. By then Constance has picked up her weapon and awaits his instruction so he recovers his blade.

Havelock immediately starts in at his regular fighting pace.

Constance responds. She is up on her toes, fighting defensively, concentrating on reading and then anticipating his movements. She continues to look for openings with her blade but has yet to really press an attack. She has yet to go full dancey on him.

[So Havelock is ‘at his regular fighting pace’ while Constance is not at hers?]

Constance is overwhelmed, she’s rapidly driven back, desperately fending off Havelock’s precision swordplay, but within a dozen seconds he has cut through her defence and placed his point at her throat.

Constance puts her left hand up very urgently to ask for a halt. “Touché”, she verbally acknowledges.

Immediately withdrawing, he removes his blade off her neck and irritably responds, “That was not your best. You know the Warden would cut through that kind of play?”

“Can we restart please, my Lord? I would revert to my natural style.”

“If you will not play the inferior then by all means.” With that he turns on his heel and walks towards the centre of the sward.

“Indeed, I will not play the inferior, my Lord.”

She follows him back towards the centre, takes position and goes for an all out attack, utilising all of her fighting skill and style. Attempting feints and pursuing any that Havelock should fall for and using every physical space available to her.

Seeing her seemingly slightly stung, Havelock’s swordplay responds to hers. In a balanced manner, defending himself, but still seeking those windows she can leave for small touches. His grin warms, “At least you didn’t strike at my back when I gave you the chance”.

“Your back is too easy a target, my Lord,” she responds. She seems to physically gather herself together and quietly speaks a prayer for her Horned Lady’s Grace. ”Again then, My Lord!”

This time she waits for Havelock’s attack. She is intending to push herself harder than she ever has to find out what she is capable of.

Constance is still very much outclassed. Unless Havelock holds back she loses ground steadily. But unlike before it’s not desperate or frantic. Havelock gets in one touch, and then a second, but he finds himself mildly surprised when half of the ‘holes’ he originally spotted prove to be contrived traps, that only his superior reflexes and technique prevent him falling foul of.

Relishing practice and time with his cousin, neither of which he has had much of whilst in Courts, Havelock does ease off. “It was the only ‘easy’ opportunity that I will give you today, Miss. Others I mean for you to work bloody hard for.”

Constance pauses. “I am deliberately not using Magic my Lord. I find it often assists. So you’d better start making me really do some work hadn’t you!” She gives him a feral grin.

Continuing the duel, Havelock observes, “Most of my teaching has been drilling masses of tyros or stretching occasional veterans out of shadow. You are of course an entirely different matter, I have never taught family.” Then he presses his attack, aiming to work them both hard.

Constance returns the favour. She frequently changes her speeds and timings to try and trick Havelock. She changes up a gear, given an opening. She also works on moving laterally rather into a stepped retreat. She’ll take any flick on the back Havelock offers this time. Out of the blue she will spin into an all out attack again.

[As far as I can tell from Jim’s posts, Havelock’s back was only vulnerable before this bout, when he turned to go back to the centre. He hasn’t exposed it since and I won’t assume either of you expose your backs unless you say so – to do so would be extremely risky, of course. That being the case…]

While Havelock eases off for a few seconds Constance is suddenly able to hold her own. Her naturally athletic styles means he constantly has to change face to keep her in front. Then her ‘all out attack’ presses him back one pace and he stops being the nice guy and once again he’s forcing her back.

By now Constance is beginning to feel the strain. Her energetic style sure burns up the calories, while Havelock’s more conservative swordplay conserves his reserves.

Constance knows that her Father will try and wear her down and continues to change speeds and angle of attack and defence. She is really, really challenging herself and she knows it. She is trying her utmost for that single point on Havelock.

After he lays his blade on her a couple more times he nods slightly “I hope you understand I hold you in the highest regard, milady. Would you wish to beat me using magic with my agreement? If it was the only way to win?”

“Of course not, my Lord! I asked you to spar with me to improve my technique in preparation for a later duel in which no magic will be involved. Here. Right now. Is about training. Not winning. Though if my Lady were to grant me one well-won single point, I would be content with my bruises!” She laughs aloud in amusement.

“More lesson then,” he breathes gently, switching his own fighting to an all out offence.

Constance throws everything she has into defence. Balletic moves to the fore to confound and confuse and leaving no angle of defence unexplored. Again she looks for feints and leaves the occasional inviting hole and makes as much use as she is able of all the space available.

In his attack Havelock is methodical. Cutting his own passage through her defence where he needs it. Between gritted teeth he hisses out, “For the Castellan!”

Constance gives it her all but Havelock is unquestionably the better swordsman. He has to pull out quite a few stops and watch his own footwork closely but in the space of a minute he steadily drives her back.

Then Constance feels the touch of his blade over her heart and suddenly she can feel the exertion catching up with her rapidly. If she doesn’t put her blade down pretty soon she’s dangerously close to fainting.

Again she calls a halt with her left hand and says “Touché”. She removes her mask calling “Lord Ariel. Some liquid if you please.”

Under her mask she is panting and exhausted. She sprawls immediately on the grass. She is weary.

Ariel snatches up both goblets and the pitcher and glides across the grass. By the time he reaches Constance her goblet is full. Once she takes it he pours another for Havelock.

Constance is breathing heavily and has clearly found the session taxing. Havelock, while he knows he’s taken exercise and can feel the sweat drying under his shirt, is far from exhausted. He suspects the difference lies partly in their respective staminas and partly in their in fencing styles. All that movement and dancing takes it out of a girl.

“Well I know one thing,” he says whilst pacing around and letting his muscles cool, “You will have to beat him before he tires you out.”

She simply nods.

He drinks from his goblet then adds, “What do you want from this duel with the Warden? Pardon if I speak out of turn, but for some reason, and I am not sure of the wherefore, I believe he will never give you the respect you might deserve. From other Elders maybe, but not him.”

She takes some time over her drink. “I want to avoid an assassin going after my Father, Lord Havelock. His lack of respect, as you perceive it, is more of his duty to Arden. There are aspects of me he does respect but they are coloured by the fact that half my heritage is Fay. He distrusts them and, because of that, me.

“My love and admiration of him does not meet his requirements. He... he does his duty by me.”

“It is a matter of respect,” interjects Ariel, dangling the now empty jug from one hand. “But of course that does cut both ways.”

Havelock strips off his padded jacket, “Yes of course, your Lordship. I can recall no indication in my presence, that Constance is not both dutiful and respectful to the Prince.”

“Can you not?” murmurs Ariel, perhaps surprised but not really sounding so.

“I hope her willingness to respond properly to his insult will be sufficient to hold off assassins. Given today I hope she doesn’t have to actually win.”

“Oh, who wins is of course entirely irrelevant.”

Then Havelock enquires of their host, “By the way I have assumed the duel concludes when one of them yields, Lord Ariel?”

“That is to be settled by the seconds immediately before the duel. Options are to the yield, to the touch, to first blood, to last man, or woman, standing, or to the death.

“Since the duel is between father and daughter I would not expect it to be to the death, but only Lady Constance can know her father well enough to judge. However, since the incident provoking the duel was a physical blow delivered by Prince Julian, I would guess that yield or touch would be insufficient.

“My guess, albeit conjecture based on limited experience, would be to first blood.”

Constance looks up at Havelock. “Then you doubt that I can actually beat him, Havelock. Which leaves me in a poor strategic position. Any residual respect he has for me will vanish and in any case I am certain to be dismissed from Arden. I both love him and respect him, Fay or not – Father, or not. I will need to find my own way beyond being the Warden’s Ward.”

“Yes, milady I have doubts. That you are able to beat him is beyond question because you have on other occasions. As I said you are more highly skilled than any lady I have crossed swords with, you flow seamlessly across the battlefield like poetry incarnate.”

“And I do not think he will set out to kill me,” continues Constance. “Maiming is another matter…”

“If what settles it is only yield or blood you are easily good enough to keep him from maiming you. If he sets forth to save himself for a seriously debilitating strike then he sets himself up to lose under those terms.”

“However, even with my poor help today I cannot be sure you will win this time. I hope you understand that those questions I just posed relate more to the possibility of an assassin stalking a Prince of the Blood than any judgement on you.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I understand you.” Ariel’s expression implies this applies to both of them. “Why should there be an assassin? A duel of honour pre-empts all that. It does not matter who wins, honour is satisfied on both sides.

“Both of you seem to think Prince Julian must win. Since he presumably knows his daughter better than anyone, he must assume the same. So if he wins it will be no surprise to anyone. Why should that affect his respect for you, Lady? Surely that you are willing to stand up to him and cross swords in front of witnesses is testimony to your honour?

“But be that as it may, Constance,” Ariel shifts his attention to Constance alone, and his tone is suddenly very intimate, “you know his respect for you is not the issue.”

Constance returns his tone. “Lord Ariel. Then, as an outsider, what do you regard as being the issue?”

“Why, respect… obviously. Did you not say to me he was… ‘obliged to take such an action against his wayward daughter’ and that ‘he would not have done so if it were not required and his duty to do so’. You expressed your ‘love’ and ‘admiration’ for him just a minute ago but I wonder if you understand what he wants from you in the way of respect?”

Whilst listening to the two of them Havelock fishes out his Trumps and starts idly scanning through them.

“To be explicit, Lord Ariel”, replies Constance, “on a number of occasions I failed to listen to his questions and gave him either an incomplete or irrelevant answer. On one occasion I continued an assumption on which he had previously corrected me. The final deed was to lie directly to him over the continued existence of an Order. Oh – and I also attempted to put my arm through his as we walked together. Moments of intimacy between us are rare. I give him incomplete information and idiocy alongside my admiration and love. He neither wants nor requires the latter. He wants my respect and will teach it to me.”

“Oh, well then everything is well,” smiles Ariel. “You will fight the duel. One of you will win. And henceforth you will demonstrate respect in the manner he wishes and there will be no more bad blood between you.” Ariel seems happy to find things so straightforward.

Havelock, without lifting his eyes from the cards he slides around, shakes head barely smiling. “Yes, Constance. One duel, nice neat line under it all. No grudges, no repercussions.”

Constance gives Ariel and old fashioned look which she swiftly hides by running her hand across her face. “And of course Prince Julian of Amber has no reputation whatsoever as a holder of grudges, Lord Ariel,” she responds. “Just ask Prince Corwin.” She pauses. “Actually, don’t!”

Ariel says nothing but his expression suggests he knows more of these things than his guests.

She gazes over towards Havelock. “What or whom is your reading about, Lord Havelock?”

He looks up. “I was considering asking about your future, but this actually seems neither the time nor place. Anyway you have figured too largely in my readings of late.” He slowly slips his cards together, squaring up the deck.

Constance looks slightly taken aback. “Lord Havelock, what questions have you been asking about me – and perhaps some indication of my future would be useful about now?”

Ariel also smiles enquiringly in the direction of Havelock.

Havelock smiles back to both. “I was enquiring after the health and future of my former art master and you were involved, as was the Warden. However, people of a certain kind of will are always harder to read.” He slides the images back and forth again. Hunching, he squints with one eye and cackles, “Do you really want a glimpse into your future, Miss? You can always cross my palm with silver.” Then breaks into a laugh.

“Oh, yes please Sir,” she responds in kind. “Tell me who my husband will be and how many pointy-eared elflings shall I have?

“Ahem!” and Constance smiles. “Alternatively Havelock, let me thank you with some wine and we shall repair to my chambers to share it. I am certainly still in need of a drink! Would that be possible Ariel? And thank you both for enabling this sparring, my lords.” She stands up again, takes off her jacket and starts to put swords, padding and masks in the same place.

Tucking his deck away, Havelock bounces upright from where he had been slouched against a pillar. “Wine, and maybe a light repast?”

“Yes,” she says. “That would be an excellent restorative now you mention it. Would that also be possible, Lord Ariel?”

Ariel, already nodding to her first iteration of the same question, smiles amiably, “I am sure a light nuncheon can be arranged, my dears.”

It takes them only a short time for the three of them to withdraw to her chambers and have food and drink brought by household demons. Here Havelock settles into a chair, he cuts a chunk of meat with his knife and wolfs it down. After tasting the wine he places his goblet reverently to one side, then clears one of the room’s tabletops. Drawing out his cards again and shuffling them he looks seriously at Constance and asks “So what do you really want to know?”

Constance requests, “What will be the immediate repercussions of the duel?”

Havelock shuffles and begins to slowly lay down the spread. As she reaches for some cheese he adds, “You can beat him.”

“I do believe that is possible. The real question is, will it be worth it?”

Having laid six cards out in a cross shape he takes a swig of wine, “That’s up to you. Let’s see what guidance the cards provide.” Then he turns the first card…

“This is the significator, where we are now,” he says, tapping the upside-down image of an elaborately robed woman, holding an orb and sceptre and wearing with a tiered crown. “The Empress reversed.” After a moment’s study his eyes flick up to meet Constance’s. “Domestic upheaval, over-protectiveness, a domineering woman or an unwanted pregnancy…

“Hmmm! A little harsh, but I suspect this may be the Prince’s view of you at the current time.” Quickly he adds, “Of course it could be another powerful female ruler with similar or slightly different meanings such as representing either a sense of the Universe as malevolent or one of psychic alienation.”

Constance’s face is still. She meets Havelock’s gaze. “It could be me. But I would hardly think my Father could ever see me in the role of Empress with such hurtful meanings attached…”

Ariel stirs in his chair but says nothing.

“…Think back to Torc’s poem. ‘Wayward Dam of constant daughter’... ‘A Princess of Unseelie House’...”

Havelock shrugs, “I am just readin’ ‘em as I see ‘em. Let’s look at the aspirator,” and flips the next card…

Upright in an ornate throne sits a man wrapped in ermine, a sword is in one hand and a sceptre in the other, a dazzling crown sits atop his head. “Where all this is heading. The Emperor: self-control, a great person with influence to place at your disposal and a figure of rational thought.

“This must be Julian. I know that both you and he have your own cards in my deck but the juxtaposition of Emperor mirroring Empress... it’s more about your relationship and your qualities than your court cards would represent. Do you aspire to be like the Warden? Self controlled and purely rational?”

“The Lor…” she stops herself immediately. “My Father and I,” she restarts, “share many qualities – namely intuition. Whereas his is finely tuned and controlled. Mine, is less so. I regret that I may on occasions let my Fe… my other bloodline override the self control and rationale that my Father seeks to instil.”

Ariel sips from his goblet, watching Constance carefully.

Havelock gently rubs the back of the third card, still focused on the imperial couple positioned as they are. Then he says, “The instigator, that which brought us here,” and turns it over…

A youth in woodland colours sits with his back to a large tree. On the ground alongside his legs are three goblets, whilst a fourth is offered to him by a small flying sprite. “The four of cups, the establishment of a family and love turned to familiarity.

“You reached this duel due in some part to your father-daughter relationship, some problem arising out of the establishment of family? Love turned to familiarity – didn't you suggest Julian had no time for the presence of love?”

“That is correct. All my Father has done for me – and possibly all he has ever done, is out of duty. He has recently said as much to me.”

“He resents your attempts at familiarity, you think?”

“Yes” she replies simply.

“We have a saying at this end of things,” interjects Ariel, ‘familiarity breeds contempt’.” He doesn’t seem to expect any comment to his remark.

“Moving on then,” Havelock says and reveals the fourth card. Though he masks it well he cannot hide his surprise from Constance. “The cryptic, the hidden influence.”

A closely knit group of 4 bright, white stars grouped in two pairs can be seen on a background starscape. They are so bright it hurts to look at them. “Zubenelgenubi reversed?” he says.

Constance notes his surprise, “What does this mean please, Lord Havelock?” she queries immediately.

He stops in thought, considering the card. “Hidden influence because Zubenelgenubi of Malastar is in trouble or acting against the two of you?” He shakes his head as if discounting that thought. “This is the only one of two cards I have of inhabitants of the Courts, and is of the house that hosts me. Maybe it is someone like Zubenelgenubi, a denizen of Chaos, connected to one or other of you who secretly manipulates this encounter behind the scenes?”

Continuing to look puzzled, Havelock continues, “Well the Orders are banned and Houses would not move so against their charges. I am stumped here. Except reversed Zubenelgenubi is also one of an intense curiosity. Curiosity which would force him to open Pandora’s box to see what was inside, against all warning, and lead him to dismantle and dissect any subject of study. Maybe you are just the subject of some hidden force’s study?”

Ariel looks from one to the other; he doesn’t seem to have much of a clue either.

Constance nods at Ariel and turns to speak directly to Havelock. “Havelock. I have no clue as to whom or what this card might refer to. But someone or thing is acting behind the scenes and actually we have no idea if they/it is acting in or against our interests. Would its meaning – which is indeed cryptic, be more clear if it were interpreted when all the cards are laid bare?”

“Maybe,” he responds, “but by it's nature the cryptic is essentially… Anyway, two more then we can assess it all. So, next is the culminator, where this is heading, possibly the repercussions you ask about…”

Three figures stand before an arched opening. A design set into the top of the arch is made up of three connected circles each containing a five-pointed star. The first figure is setting the last of the circles in place from atop a bench, meanwhile the others are examining a book of plans. The costumes and architecture remind those who have visited there of Castle Amber.

“Three of Coins upright.” After a brief pause he adds, “Hmmm… so many possible coincident meanings. I need a moment to consider this.” He then goes quiet looking down at the cards.

Constance remains still and quiet.

Ariel drains his cup and refills it from the wine jug as he too waits for Havelock’s cogitations.

Havelock continues. “Well it can mean rewards resulting from a skill exercised at the right time. So simply could be whichever of you best exercises skill at the time of duel will be rewarded. However, this is often more like payment for services supplied, success in some commercial transaction. Skill is utilised and correct return received.”

He momentarily looks uncomfortable and quickly hurries on. “Instead it could indicate help and co-operation between parties involved in business together.” Shaking his head again, “But I can hardly see how the two of you are currently involved in a business venture or that this duel could advance cooperation between you in such a matter.”

Constance makes a non committal sound and reaches for the wine jug to refill and goblets that require it. “No idea what this business arrangement could be Havelock. But as Ariel said a little while ago – a duel does clear the air.” She pours wine.

“It does,” confirms Ariel, “but in order to stay clear the parties must endeavour to cease their provocations.”

“Yes, clear the air.” Havelock nods and taps on the card again. “Another interpretation could be the receipt of praise and appreciation of those who matter. Could be the view of Chaos that we can heretics can follow rules of honour. Possibly you may be judged by the family, Elders and others by the outcome, some of whom might wish your opponent beaten? On the other hand if the Prince wins he could be appreciated for, and it cannot be said nicely, putting you in your place. Ah the dual meaning of the cards seem dependent on who wins, it seems.”

“I save my true ray of hope 'til last though my lady. One final understanding of this card is that it represents a dynasty built on firm foundations.”

“The best feeling I am getting off the cards is the success in commercial transaction, a reward for skill. Yet all these meanings have resonance and I think this card points to all of them to some degree.”

Sagging back in the chair a little, he drinks from his goblet and picks up some bread. “Any comment or would you see the last card, the pivot about which all this matter revolves?”

Constance smiles ruefully at Ariel in return and listens intently to Havelock's interpretation of the reading. “No! No comment. Please continue, Lord Havelock.”

Havelock flicks over the last card, the one that lies sidewise in the spread. It shows two figures. The first, recumbent on the right of the image, is a large male lion. Across his outstretched paws sits the second figure, a maiden whose body runs up the left of the card. As they come together she is comfortingly snuggled in his fulsome mane, whilst he maintains the look more of a domestic cat mid-caress. The maiden wears a garland in her hair and above her head is the sign of infinity. “So it turns on Strength,” he mutters.

“As the pivot, this card can take meaning from how it is approached. A positive result from upright and not so good influence from reversed. Here Strength is reasonably plain. Upright it indicates moral determination, gentle use of physical power and finally reconciliation with an enemy, leading to the good. Meanwhile, a failure of nerve or moral weakness or physical abuse leads to the bad.

“Milady you must be determined to go through with things for the good, but in conflict go gently and do not overtly abuse an advantage you may have. I suggest if you win by a small wound then the result will be better than if you find and then take an opportunity to maim or humiliate.”

“Any thoughts before I try to tie it all up?”

“Lord Havelock. Should I win this duel I will endeavour to do so without maiming my Father. I shall fight my best and, win or lose, I will do it with Grace. Please continue!”

Ariel sits back, holding his cup in both hands, wrapt attention on Havelock.

Havelock leans forward and, resting his elbows on the table, entwines his fingers, bridging them into an arch. Licking his lips he starts, “This crisis is due to the interplay between this wilful, imperious couple.” He fixes on the Empress and Emperor cards. “They have different views on the love between them. He is cold, calculating and rational, viewing love close to duty. She has a different form of love, wanting to be protective, but has stretched to over-protection and domination. He views her love as a means to control him, and as the Emperor resists this vigorously.”

Unfolding his hands he hovers his finger over the cryptic, Zubenelgenubi. “In the background an unknown hand manipulates them, but manipulation need not be bad. Perhaps, given the positive spread of mostly upright cards this could be a hidden ally seeking to help heal your familial rift. Perhaps.”

Finally the tip of his finger rests on the pivot. “What is crucial to the result, though, is Strength.” He taps the card and stares directly at Constance. “If you show moral determination then the result is success in business with, I mean, alongside, Prince Julian. Even reconciliation may be possible.”

Ariel turns his attention on Constance.

“I pray with all my heart that your reading is a true one, my Lord. Reconciliation is my desire and I need find the Strength to do it and accept my Horned Lady's desires and will on the matter.”

Ariel stirs restlessly.

“Meanwhile – the hidden influence remains… hidden. And,” Constance continues, “above all, I will cease over-protecting my Lord Warden. That was never my intention.”

“This is the second time you have used that phrase, Constance. Who is the Horned Lady, and how do you know her desires?”

“My Horned Lady is the Unicorn. She made her desires known at the conclusion of the battle when she indicated the new King of Amber. She is less vocal with me but that's because she expects me to be self-reliant,” Constance replies.

“Ah! Yes, I have heard of Amber’s mythical beast and her choosing of your new monarch is already legend. But how do you know she wishes you to be self-reliant?”

“I pray to my Horned Lady, Lord Ariel. My devotion to her gives me Strength. Within the prayers there is time to reflect on my actions, thoughts and wisdom if I am wise enough to grasp it.”

Constance smiles a very small smile. “I would follow her path and she is intuitive, wise, strong and self reliant. I have faith.” She looks at Ariel directly but not in a challenging way.

Ariel, seemingly unsure, looks to Havelock for his view.

Havelock tidies away his cards into a neat deck on the table and digs ravenously into the vittles. “Yup,” he says between mouthfuls. “Cryptics, they are hidden like that. As for our family lucky charm? Well, I have personally not had the honour of seeing one shiny hoof or silver horn so for me the jury is out.”

Ariel seems a trifle disappointed but he drains his cup and puts it aside. “Anything else, my dears?”

“Oh Havelock! I am so very sorry that you didn't have the opportunity for a more intimate encounter with Her!” Constance sounds genuinely sincere. “I have always felt close to her in Arden. I regret my Father doesn't approve of these emotions however.”

After wiping his lips with a napkin, Havelock first turns to Ariel and thanks him for his House's hospitality and the refreshments.

Ariel smiles warmly, “The pleasure was all mine, Lord Havelock – I have long wanted to see how you do your divination in the Dworkin Barimen style after hearing it described by Zubenelgenubi. He will be most titillated to hear he has appeared in your reading.”

Then Havelock turns back to Constance, “No Arden nor Amber nor even time within the Golden Circle has been allowed to me. My time has been spent riding with shadows for company, not stary horned horses. However, I have got on with most and am happy to leave any friend or family to their own beliefs.”

He stands and finishes gathering his things away, making ready to leave.

Constance rises to assist him. “Thank you Lord Havelock – for your time and knowledge and company. I am sorry my Father kept me so safe from the rest of the family. I hope you are able to observe the duel and then we can get on with… things.”

“Yes, things.” Havelock smiles as he walks and momentarily resembles his father. “After Fiona's arrival the other's, such as Corwin and Random, will not be far behind. Then I think family business will be more back to normal.”

“Some duels, some funerals a wedding and home. And more people to meet away from a battlefield!”

“Well, Lord Havelock,” smiles Ariel, “let me see you out.”

"Thank you Lord Ariel for accommodating us and," she hesitates "Cousin Havelock for your expertise and company."

Constance waits for them to leave. Washes, changes into night clothes and has a concentrated times of prayers.

“Not at all!” replies Ariel, and he ushers Havelock away.

Ariel graciously shows Havelock out of Stormguard, to be guided by DM+589 back to the Spiral.