After the Dance was Over

Or what Constance did after the Grand Ball

The Grand Ball draws to a close and Julian conveys his last dance partner, a woman with strange eyes, off the floor but he continues to talk to her and two others clearly of the same house. He seems in no hurry to leave.

Raffles has just given Constance her cloak back, bowed and left with a smile.

As Constance looks around Ariel shows up to escort her back to Stormguard. He seems in good humour so presumably has enjoyed the Ball. Constance smiles in response, still full of energy from dancing.

“My Lord Ariel. Thank you so kindly for your escort. It has been rather more engaging than I expected – and I am,” she pauses, “pleased to have this cloak about me again.”

“Oh?” Ariel’s eyes wander in the direction of the vanished Raffles. “I distinctly recall you not wearing the garment before the last dance…?”

Constance’s also glances over towards Raffles, to find him already gone, and turns back to Ariel. “Yes. It was returned at the end of the last dance. It also came with a request that requires a more private discussion.”

“Well in that case we must take the slow route back to Stormguard and discourse along the way.” He gestures toward a door that led to an ante-room earlier on but almost certainly leads ‘out’ now.

“I should like to, Lord Ariel, and I shall do so.” She pauses. ”But my Lord Warden also remains and I sense he would like to speak with me. I do apologise but I am duty bound to do so. I hope you understand?”

Ariel does a momentary double-take. Constance senses an almost subliminal air of exasperation but there’s no trace of this in Ariel’s voice. “Of course, my lady. I shall wait for you here until you are ready to leave.”

“It will be but a momentary delay Lord Ariel! I will be making arrangements to speak with him. The princes of Amber are not permitted our freedoms. Please forgive this brief delay.”

He smiles graciously and gestures acquiescence. Constance smiles her thanks and turns to walk over to join Julian and his party.

Julian is talking to three women in Regency-style dresses absolutely encrusted with precious gems of all kinds, quite dazzling. The women have faceted gemstones for eyes.

Julian sees her coming and smiles coolly. “Ah, ladies may I introduce my daughter, Constance. Constance, this is Sheba, Suen and Regina Shadra of House Ophir, my new hosts.”

Constance returns Julian’s smile and curtsies deeply to the Ophir women. “I am very pleased to meet you,” she says after rising.

“Likewise, Lady Constance,” smiles the queenly woman with topaz eyes, “and please accept our compliments regarding your humiliation of Lord Unman – it was masterfully done.”

Julian maintains his cool smile but Constance thinks her father is also very pleased with her.

“Thank you Regina Shadra,” Constance acknowledges the compliment. “Lord Unman really did ask for his reckoning.”

“Of course he did – and that dreadful shade of green too, I’m sure.”

“Might we ask if you plan any further demonstrations of retribution?” This is from the emerald-eyed Sheba, who was Julian’s partner in the last dance.

Constance looks almost surprised at the suggestion and smiles again. “By My Lady, I most sincerely hope not, Lady Sheba!”

“After this only a fool would consider crossing you, Lady Constance.” Julian nods agreement with Sheba.

“Which leaves only the clever to be wary of, does it not?” Constance replies, still smiling. “Did you all enjoy the Ball?” she enquires of the group.

There’s a chorus of polite assents, nods, etc, from the ladies, “Tolerable,” from Julian.

“I loved the way different styles of music were played across the dance floor. In fact, my only regret is not having had the opportunity to dance with you my Lord,” she smiles a sad smile to Julian.

“Perhaps next time.”

Constance gives him a slightly amused look in response and turns to Regina Shadra. “I have had so little opportunity to speak with my Lord Warden of late, Regina Shadra. Would you be gracious enough as to allow me to visit my Lord Warden whilst he is your guest?”

“Of course!” she replies with a smile, “Whenever you wish.”

“You are most gracious, Regina,” Constance inclines her head. “Perhaps we could speak as we walk, my Lord? My escort,” she gestures towards Ariel, “is waiting to return me to his House – but perhaps, if it is agreeable to all parties, we could walk with you and then continue on our path to Stormguard.” She raises a speculative eyebrow to the Regina.

Julian raises his own eyebrow in the same direction. Shadra smiles and briefly consults with Sheba behind a spread of fan. When she re-emerges she is still smiling.

“This is Ariel of House Pheon, a satellite of Sawall, yes?”

“It is indeed Regina – of course I would not wish to impose on you further...” she finishes.

“Not at all – we would be delighted for Ariel of Pheon to walk with us. I am sure we can find much to discuss.”

“Assuming,” interrupts Julian, “that the fellow is amenable.”

Constance nods in response to Julian. “He did mention a need to return to Stormguard – I can but inquire. If you would excuse me?” she asks.

The ladies again chorus their consent while Julian nods absentmindedly – which Constance knows is an affectation because Julian is never absentminded.

Constance walks back towards Ariel to find him sat comfortably in an easy chair sipping a drink. He looks relaxed and just a little expectant to Constance’s eye.

“Lord Ariel,” she greets him formally. “How useful or perhaps risky, would a conversation with the Regina and ladies of House Ophir be for you?”

He rises and places his glass on a side table. “You mean we are to accompany your father and his hosts to Nineveh?” He ponders for an interval just long enough to suggest that he hadn’t seen this coming and slightly short enough to suggest he’s eager to seize the opportunity to hobnob with a Rimlord house. Then he smiles, “I’m sure that would be lovely.” He takes her arm, “I presume you wish to converse discretely with Prince Julian – I shall endeavour to keep the ladies amused on the way. Pray lead on.”

“Are you sure it would be lovely? It would be helpful if you could. And after the events around the Ball, I would imagine there will be an amount of repositioning going on in Chaos,” she queries seriously.

“Of course.” Constance and Ariel begin a slow stroll toward Julian and the Ophir ladies.

“What is Ophir’s position and how do they stand with your House.”

“Ophir is of the Rim. I understand, with Augustus’ death and the consequent realignment, that they are outside the new coalition for the moment. But then they were outside the last coalition and were never supporters of Augustus. There is no connection between Ophir and Pheon, as yet.”

Constance’s says quietly, “Well here is an opportunity to change that Ariel!”

Julian and the three Ophir women cease their conversation and turn as Constance and Ariel approach.

Constance carries out the formal introductions. “Prince Julian of Amber, Regina Shadra, Lady Sheba and Lady Suen of House Ophir, I am pleased to introduce Lord Ariel of House Pheon.” She steps back and stands close to her Father.

“I am delighted to make your most charming acquaintances, ladies.” Ariel bows deeply. “And you also, my Lord – I have heard much about you from Lady Constance and it is an honour to meet you in the flesh.”

Julian inclines his head courteously, saying nothing, but a flicker of his eyes toward Constance suggests that he’s wondering what tales his daughter has been telling.

“Well it is time we were going.” Regina Shadra seizes the initiative. “Suen, you lead the way while Sheba and I bring up the rear with Lord Ariel. That will let the Prince and his daughter talk in peace.”

Suen leads Julian and Constance to the nearest door while Sheba and Shadra each take one of Ariel’s arms. They soon find themselves outside, apparently on a windswept beach under three moons, the largest of which is visibly moving through the starfield.

Suen forges ahead while Shadra opens, “So my Lord, I trust you enjoyed the manoeuvring on the dance floor…?” But Ariel’s reply is lost in the noise of the surf as they fall back a few yards.

Julian casts glances inland, out to sea and behind, where Ariel, Sheba and Shadra are chatting avidly, arm in arm in arm. Satisfied at some level, he speaks in a low voice without looking at her…

“I am sure I can offer you no pointers in your dancing, Constance, so I presume you would discuss your partners, and matters arising?”

Constance additionally takes a long look above them and studies the sand as they begin to walk.

“Yes,” she replies simply in a quiet voice. “There were many conversations Father. But it is only the conversation with the penultimate dance partner that would cause me to disturb you.”

“Really?” Something in Julian’s voice tells Constance that vice is not versa. “So… Brand?”

Constance gives him a bland look. “I am sure we have much information to exchange, Father. But please allow me to start with the question Prince Brand put to me; namely, why did I think that he specifically sought me out? Could I ask you the same question, Father?”

Julian’s gaze wanders inland, over Constance’s head, probing the darkness, and returns to Suen, some eight to ten yards in front, before replying.

“Constance, you will recall how in the past I have warned you, I hope assiduously, but at least frequently and emphatically, that you should never trust your relatives. I might add that you should never, for a moment, believe that any of your aunts or uncles have but a single motive for anything they might do or say.”

“Father, you could never be faulted for your warnings! Yet he has sought me out. After the small talk, he challenged me for not referring to you as Father in public,” she shrugs. “And I told him that it had been to keep me safe from people like him.”

Julian smiles coldly. “How amusing – though I suppose he has a point.”

“I would be happy to refer to you publicly as my Father – if that would please you?” She studies his face closely.

“Until recently, it seemed wise to hide our relationship from the World at large, or at least from that part we are related to. Now, however, it is widely known that I have a daughter and there may very well be gain to be had from broadcasting the fact.”

“As long as the gain does not involve my bride price Father!” She states flatly.

“I have no idea what you mean.” From his tone of voice, he doesn’t care what she means either.

“If we are to gain from a relationship with Chaos, there will be a price. Amber blood lines and the potential of wielding Pattern is a powerful weapon here Father – particularly for a House. I refer to bride price because I would be disappointed to think that you or your brothers only saw me as a potential bargaining piece. Perhaps I am being paranoid?”

For the first time Julian looks directly at her, eyebrow raised in theatrical surprise. “Have I ever so much as mentioned marriage to you, Constance?”

“No, Father,” she meets his gaze. “But that’s not to say that it hasn’t occurred to you. My cousins tease Sorashi that she should be wed to Melvyn. William is to marry his angel. Dirk didn’t look entirely comfortable with his choice of dance partners. Is all marriage defined by political necessity? Was your dance with Magdelene such?”

“I assure you, daughter, no member of House Karm is about to be your step-mother.” Julian seems amused at the idea. “Any liaison between Melvyn and your cousins would fall foul of your grandfather’s admonitions against consanguineous marriage. I cannot speak for William or his betrothed but aside from that I cannot ever recall a marriage, political or otherwise, even being debated. In our family, my father married enough for us all.”

Constance smiles at the last. “And you would not have me married off?”

“I could envisage a situation whereby a marriage of alliance might be necessary, but such would only be done with your willing collusion.

“As to your suspicion that any of these houses would seek access to the Pattern via marriage: it is my observation that they view the Pattern with abject horror, and with good reason – the only house that has contrived such an alliance did so for dynastic reasons, not metaphysical, and seems intent on being rid of the Pattern-initiate, poor child. Fear not, daughter, your nuptials lie not here.”

“Thank you for that reassurance Father,” she replies. “Were you engaged elsewhere during the Ball? I did look for you on the dance floor and saw you in discussion with some of your brothers. Has something untoward happened?”

“Yes, Constance – a king has died.”

“I did notice that. Is there fall-out for our family Father?”

“I sincerely hope so, daughter. The very late Augustus was rabidly anti-Amber. We must hope his successor is of a more positive temperament.”

“Something in our favour then. I noted the Rim Lords were very busy. Herman of Karm stood me up for a dance,” she smiles.

“I thought you seemed busy enough on the dance floor.”

“So Father. Did you have anything to tell me before I speak to you of dance conversations?”

“No Constance, what could I have to say before hearing of your conversations? It was you, I recall, who asked to speak with me with such urgency. I trust your concerns amount to more than just paranoia over imminent nuptials?” Julian sounds ever so slightly exasperated.

The fast moon is about to set. For some time a tall cliff has been looming out of the darkness, to the left. Abruptly Suen turns at right-angles and heads directly away from the beach, toward the cliff. Julian follows her footprints in the sand at a leisurely pace.

“Well Father. When Prince Brand first observed that I knew people who could get him a new body I thought he meant Margrath as he was instrumental in returning Princess Deirdre from the Abyss. From our conversation it turns out that his reference wasn’t to Margrath,” she pauses, “It was to you.”

“If I recall a previous conversation correctly, didn’t you say your cousin Margrath was a shaman?”

“Correct, Father. He can work with a body that is viable. Prince Brand’s was, by all accounts, not.”

“Body? I am no magician, Constance, but it is my understanding that a shaman trades in spirits.”

“Prince Brand believes that you could make him an altogether new body. That you, amongst all of your siblings might help him and,” she pauses to look at Julian’s face, “he offers payment.”

“Constance, why did you think Margrath might find Brand a body? That smacks of necromancy, not shamanism.”

“Because I had not realised that Prince Brand’s body was physically destroyed and Deirdre’s was not. As I understand it Margrath, and Sorashi as the blood link to Deirdre, with the help of a Chaos House recalled Deirdre’s spirit into her body. What Prince Brand seeks is someone who can recreate his body.”

“Constance, you just said when Brand first told you that he wanted a new body, you thought he meant Margrath could get one for him. I do not understand why you thought a shaman could get anyone a body?

“You must forgive me if I seem to be belabouring a point but it seems to me that you know something about your cousin that you have not told me if you thought he could procure a body for my brother and that can have nothing to do with the viability of Brand’s corpse.”

Constance considers. “I apologise for my imprecise language Father. I believe – as I was not present to observe, let alone understand – that Margrath's only, albeit significant, part was to recall Princess Deirdre's spirit from the Abyss. He deals in Spirit magics and the act of reuniting body and spirit was done through Sorcerous means. The bodies of both Princess Deirdre and Prince Brand had already physically been retrieved.”

“Hmmph!” Julian follows Suen silently for a minute without speaking. Constance has ample opportunity to watch the dark cliffs looming nearer. She can almost hear the cogs grinding in her father’s head and she can only hope the cliffs don’t prove to be a metaphor for whatever is in his mind.

“Constance, I will for the moment accept your assertion that Margrath is guilty of nothing more than suffering from your ‘imprecise language’. But nonetheless his sorcerous arts smack of black magic to me and I would urge you to keep him at a distance as much as possible.”

As he finishes, Suen vanishes into a cave at the foot of the cliffs. Behind Constance, a burst of merry laughter from Shadra and Sheba suggests Ariel is indeed keeping them amused, as promised.

Constance considers the setting Moon. It is just visible on the horizon – strangely, its setting is causing ripples in the mirror-smooth sea, so it is actually settling into the water.

“So, Father. When Prince Brand referred to your being able to make him a body, was he referring to your skills in Conjuration?”

A light comes on in the cave, coming from a blue crystal in Suen’s hand.

“If he was he will be disappointed – I think I did mention that I am no magician.” Julian follows the light. “You said ‘payment’?”

“Yes. He offers the Jewel of Judgement that you might have noticed at the painting unveiling.” She glances over to him. “Which, to me, reeked of power... and his Pattern sword.”

“Yes, I recall him acquiring the blade – Werewindle, I think it’s called – I have not seen him wear it for a long, long time but I am sure no one else has acquired it since so it may very well be in his gift. What do you surmise about his jewel?”

“Well, there is more than one Jewel in play, Father. I could feel the power radiating from the one ghost Brand wears – a sorcerer could tell you more. As to whether it is the Jewel?” She shrugs. “I could not confirm it for sure.”

“There are sorcerers aplenty here but I doubt any of them could tell us more about that jewel, save that it is puissant. Only someone versed in Pattern could tell us more, which of course means a member of the family, Constance. The trouble, as ever, is who to trust?

“You speak of there being more than one jewel; I would have written-off such speculation as female hysteria were it not for two things: we all saw the Unicorn produce the jewel from the Abyss and give it to Random; presumably it is with him still. And the other is your dream of an ‘alternative’ Amber – I know I poo-pooed the idea when you mentioned it but I wonder if Brand’s jewel is not tied to this other place, perhaps in the alternative reality he hails from?”

Constance raises an eyebrow at the female hysteria statement. She nods at his speculation. “That is a very keen thought Father. It could well have come through from the alternate reality. There is of course the burnt out Jewel that was recovered along with Prince Brand's body from the Abyss, if that's not female hysteria at work.”

“A burnt-out jewel?” Julian frowns, either not noticing his daughter’s pique or choosing to ignore it. “I do not see how that fits in – it seems there is one jewel too many if that has any relevance. Have you seen this, daughter?”

“I would like very much to examine the returned Brand's jewel using Pattern. But, probably not wise here really. Have I mentioned that it was your former hosts who had Prince Brand's body retrieved from the Abyss?”

“Not that I recall.” Julian doesn’t sound particularly interested. “I only wanted to know if you had seen the jewel, daughter. Obviously we cannot examine it using Pattern here; please keep to the point.”

Suen suddenly vanishes but the blue light from her gem illuminates a spiral stair going down. Looking behind, both Shadra and Sheba have yellow and green lights of their own, which is just as well as the light of the moons is fifty yards back. Julian starts down the stair.

Constance follows Julian closely. “I was curious about your ability with Conjuration, Father. Can a body be conjured by someone with a specialist knowledge in Conjuration? You after all emphasised in a recent conversation that you can do things that no other members of the family are capable of.”

“I cannot answer your question, daughter. I confess I am finding it hard to understand why you cannot understand a simple denial. I am no magician – do you think I am lying to you about this? Yes, I believe I can do things no one else in the family can; pray what has this to do with conjuration?”

“I was wondering what Prince Brand thinks that you can do in order for him to have a physical existence again. That is all Father,” she replies. “Perhaps I should ask him if I should see him again?”

“If you ask, presumably you are already ‘seeing’ him. But I’m sure he will make the running. I shall have to think over the ramifications for a while. Who else have you told of all this?”

“No one, Father.” She gives him a slight ‘of course!’ frown. “Why would you ever think otherwise?”

“You wonder why I need to state the obvious?” Constance notices that the rocky wall of the stair seems to have turned wooden. “Yes, well I do too.

“Needless to say then, if we were to debate the issue with the family I can imagine Fiona or Bleys being passionately for bringing their brother back from the dead. While the likes of Corwin and Caine would be equally passionate about leaving him as a ghost. We need to keep the passion out of what must ultimately be a cold calculation. Do you understand me, daughter?”

“Of course, Father,” she replies certainly.

Suddenly they find themselves emerging from the trunk of a tree at dawn. Suen is waiting a dozen yards away on the edge of a field of waist-high blue grass. When she sees Constance and Julian, she turns and walks directly away from this lone tree. Julian takes one look around, squares his shoulders and follows Suen. Constance gets the feeling he’s finding the trek a little wearing.

“Do you have a use for a Pattern blade, daughter?”

“Undoubtedly Father. But the question is, what is its price?”

“Brand is asking for corporealisation; do you think either or both of the trinkets he offers are worth that?”

“Before I can answer, I would know what corporealisation is, Father”

There is no sigh of long-suffering but Constance can detect the note of exasperation in her father’s voice which he makes no attempt to hide. “It is to make corporeal – to give a body to a spirit without.”

“Mmmm. I can appreciate why he might want your help Father.”

“Actually I am sure you can’t.”

She considers as they walk. Ahead, the waving seas of blue grass are broken by a nest of small pools of limpid green water. When they emerged from the tree it felt like dawn but Constance realises that there is no ‘sun’, the light just seems to emanate from somewhere behind her left shoulder, close to the horizon. The sky is a very pale pink.

“I would think there is more to be gained from this Father, if this is a unique skill. I would also be balancing risks should he be returned to a physical form and I would be looking at implementing some form of failsafe should Prince Brand not have been rehabilitated. But I'm sure you have considered all this and more.”

“You have a knack for answering a different question to the one asked. Obviously we will need to put in place safeguards but my question to you was simple, Constance, so I will repeat it for the sake of your obviously challenged intellect – do you think either or both the gem and the sword are worth giving Brand what he asks for?”

“Yes,” she replies simply. “And... putting aside the offered items, I would not see any of us left in the situation Prince Brand has caught himself in.”

Suen skirts the first of the pools to the left but there’s more than half-a-dozen more and it’s unclear which, if any, is her final destination.

“Ah! Now that is the thing, is it not? Most of us thought that his death was not undeserved. But do his crimes merit this half-life? I can fashion for him a body capable of withstanding great rigour, but not the trials of walking the Pattern. Nor can I marry body and soul together – for that we would need…”

“What, exactly, would we need Father. Or is it whom?”

“Whom, I would say – we will need to be… objective, I think – We will need someone who can cause a free spirit to displace the rightful owner of the body in question.” Julian’s smile is truly nasty. “Do you know anyone like that, daughter?”

Suen reaches one of the further pools, but not the furthest, throws a glance over her shoulder to check she’s being watched, and jumps into the water. There is no splash and barely a ripple creases the surface.

“You have Margrath in mind?”

“No, Constance,” Julian’s smile hasn’t changed, “but it is interesting that you do.”

“Well, yes he would, Father. Margrath comes to mind because he was present when Princess Deirdre was returned. He told me that he was able to recall Princess Deirdre's spirit from the Abyss. I do not believe that he can displace the original spirit from the host body. I know that Sorashi was there as part of the ritual and he spoke of a raven-headed woman. I would surmise that the raven-headed woman did the binding – but a conversation with Margrath would confirm this.”

“Perhaps, daughter. But I meant what I said about keeping him at a distance. Let us wait until we are more sure of ourselves before we consult him or another sorcerer.” Julian halts at the edge of the green pool that Suen jumped into a moment ago and offers Constance his hand. “Shall we…?”

“I would be honoured Father,” she smiles as she takes his hand.

Father and daughter step off the bank and into the water. There’s a strange sensation of falling into something liquid and a swirling sensation. Then abruptly they fall onto a hard, broken surface. Constance staggers but manages to keep her feet. Julian is less lucky. He makes an excellent recovery, however, rolling with the fall and springing to his feet with some agility.

“I confess I feel a trifle naked without my armour,” he comments as he brushes himself down. “But there are benefits.”

Suen is sitting on a rock a short distance away. Seeing them arrive, she rises and moves off again. The environment she’s walking through appears to be a bare rocky island. There’s no sun or moon and Constance senses that the heavens do not move in this place. The sky is breathtakingly beautiful with each star a tiny twinkling facetted gem. Sound has a strange, dead quality here.

Constance gazes upwards as she walks. “The way Ophir use gems is quite beautiful: encrusted on their gowns; as stars to me above. I hope they prove to be kinder hosts than your last, Father,” Constance almost whispers.

“Karm were not as bad as you might suppose. Most of their intransigencies came from Oggil.”

A few steps is all it takes for Constance to realise the strangeness of this environment. A slight increase in height reveals that the ‘island’ is suspended in space. She can dimly make out several similar islands from the way they occult the crystalline stars. From this low rise Constance can tell that this island is in the shape of a large horseshoe. She can see the other arm of the horseshoe not far away to her left, but it’s a fair way to walk.

“When you next speak, be sure Brand understands the limits of what I can do for him.”

Constance is still musing on Karm. “Yes. I will be sure to. He may not be entirely pleased with the limitations but it surely must be an improvement on a half existence.”

“Unless I miss my guess, Brand will be very much aware but I do not want to leave anything to chance.”

“Father, is it not interesting that Karm sought external assistance to deal with Oggil – just as presumably, a majority of the Rimlords sought our assistance to deal with their former King? Are their rules so heavy or do they fear an equivalent of a blood curse?”

“I gather their oaths of fealty to their superiors can call down retribution if broken outright – though I observe that this doesn’t seem to prevent them providing quite blatant assistance to assassins from without.

“Since you have chosen to change the subject, I presume you have no further questions regarding any deal we might make with Brand?”

“No. Except that I would like to know more of the Jewel he wears,” she pauses. “Unless there is something else he holds that has a higher value to you Father?”

Julian shrugs. “I am unaware of anything else but he was always one of the more secretive members of the family.

“You should be aware of the responsibility of holding a Pattern blade, Constance. There are reasons why only a few of the family have shown an interest in such weapons. You should also know that each is unique in its utilities – Greyswandir, for example, confers power over creatures encountered in Tir-na-Nog’th. I do not know of Werewindle’s subsidiary powers but doubtless Brand may be able to enlighten our ignorance.”

“Are the associated responsibilities a reason you have never sought a Pattern blade Father? You are better with a blade than I and I may not have the strength to wield it as effectively.”

“Nonsense, Constance! You are stronger than any of my rangers and none of them lack facility with the blade. The principal reason I do not wield a Pattern blade is that there has never been one available. But each comes with its responsibilities and I am too busy with Arden to spare much time for Rebma, which is a difficult place for a man. However, as a woman you may very well find Rebma easier to… negotiate.”

Constance nods. “Well, I guess that I will jump that fence when I come to it. I have no doubt of the value of the blade Father – well to me, certainly. It would have proved useful against Faerie as well. It doesn't lack irony that you would offer me something so rare and valuable now, when a simple ring would have offered some me protection all those years ago,” she gives Julian a slightly narrow look.

“Ah! So that was how you trounced Unman so emphatically; I had wondered. It was well done – and marvellously public.” Julian smiles that nasty smile again. “Have you experienced any… adverse reactions yourself?”

“An emphatic demonstration was required Father. Just the one slap to his pretty face!” She calmly responds. “As to side effects: I was aware of it as it was tingly and a little warm on my hand. So I guess my bloodline is too dilute to be badly effected by it. Was that the reason you never gave me something of cold iron?”

“Curious!” Julian seems genuinely surprised. “I’ve never told you this, Constance, but when you were first found, wrapped in a moleskin blanket, in the swadlings there was a letter written on a leaf – sycamore, in case you’re interested. The note stated that the babe… you… were my daughter and should be raised as such… and that on no account should cold iron be allowed near you.

“Naturally, with tales of changelings at the back of my mind, after some thought I put this to the test. A few days later I applied a horseshoe of cold iron to your thigh. It smoked and left a livid burn in your flesh.

“You howled mightily, I must say, and I had the devil of a job explaining things to your wet nurse, but it persuaded me that you were not a changeling and that the warning against cold iron was to be taken seriously. Otherwise I would have had you armed with cold iron from an early age and you’d have been festooned with cold iron combs, broaches and whatnot.

“I would guess that walking the Pattern has given you protection lacking before. It was about then that the last faint signs of the burn vanished, though it healed quick enough at the time.”

Constance is slightly startled at this snippet from her Father. “Well, much as you quite obviously caused an infant considerable pain, I appreciate the fact that you had to investigate the risk. Thank you for not just ordering me abandoned in Arden, Father.” She studies his face very closely indeed.

Julian shrugs again. “It was necessary to make the test – allowing the Fae to place a changeling at the heart of Arden would have had severe repercussions for security. The office of Warden carries great responsibility, Constance. The incumbent cannot allow personal feelings to get in the way of his duties.”

“And the scar faded. And I wasn't fed to the hounds. You are the most dedicated of Amber's princes, Father. I am blessed to have you,” she finishes with a shy glance straight into his face.

“It is not a question of being blessed or cursed, Constance; we none of us have a choice in our parents. I do the tasks I am set to do: I am the Warden of Arden; I am the father of a sometimes wayward daughter.”

“But I feel blessed by my situation, Father. You chose to raise me. You kept me safe. You have equipped me well to do service and, on the sole occasion when, as a child, I was wayward, you searched for and rescued me. I can but admire you as a man and love you dearly as my Father. I am Blessed – and I take my Blessings where I find them.” She tucks her arm through his, as for once it is not in armour, and continues to look into his face.

Julian shakes her off – “Daughter, we are on view – mind yourself!” He throws a look behind – Ariel, Shadra and Sheba aren’t far away, apparently talking animatedly but no sound reaches Constance in this strangely dead air. They are about half way round the horseshoe.

Julian is irritated. “I assure you, Constance, I had no choice in the matter – there was no choice to be made. And I seem to recall several occasions when your behaviour was untoward, other than the event you refer to.

“Now there is another matter we need to discuss – your last partner, who was he?”

“Your pardon, Father,” she hastily apologises and schools both her face and her demeanour. “For being wayward,” she whispers and gazes upward. “He called himself Raffles.”

“Do you know his house?”

“He gave the name as Kunstkabinett, Father. I hope to know more after I have a conversation with Ariel. Given the cloak he sported on arrival, I gather he wanted my attention.”

“Sheba observed that he might be a gatecrasher, from the ‘Ixtramurini’. She seemed to think this was something to be concerned about.”

“Mmm!” Constance acknowledges. “I can't comment on that but it may be that the reshuffling for position reaches from the selection of the new King, through the Rimlord houses, the lesser houses and the Ixtramurini. Ariel was more concerned that there had been a breach of security within his house and I for the safety of a rather fine cloak. In any case, Raffles did well to gatecrash. Or perhaps, again there was some internal assistance?”

“I think part of her concern was that he was able to gatecrash at all – and now you say that he may have invaded your private chambers in Stormguard? If he had internal help then that is all the more worrying, don’t you think? What did he want?”

“Someone removed my cloak from my private chambers. I have no idea who actually did it – just that my dance partner was wearing it.”

“Constance!” Julian drops his voice and leans closer, a note of warning in his voice.

“My Lord?” She whispers back.

Out of nowhere comes an open-handed slap that knocks her two feet sideways and leaves her ears ringing.

“That is the fifth time you have provoked me, Constance.” Julian’s voice is icy and very, very calm. “I will teach you to show respect if it is the last thing I do. I trust you will not make me repeat my question?”

Constance's eyes go wide and she stifles a shocked cry. Her eyes drop to the floor and she breathes deeply. She replies in a subdued whisper, “He wanted information about the Order of the Deniable Moth, Father.”

“And what did you tell him?”

“That the Order was dissolved by the late King.”

“Really?” Julian smiles grimly and Constance knows that he knows she’s lying. “Is there anything else you would wish to waste my time with?”

“My Lord Father. I have not lied to you. The Head of the former Order is missing – the Order was dissolved!” She is poised, awaiting a second blow.

Julian smiles gaily, “How wonderful! You seek to try my patience further, and in front of an audience too. Very well, have done with you. We shall talk again once you have learned some manners.”

“My Lord Father. Please tell me why you should believe otherwise?”

“Silence, daughter! I have had enough of you today. You may bend the ear of your escort if he can bear it but I shall hear no more of your drivel.”

She looks stricken. “I am truly sorry,” she murmurs.

Julian gives her an ‘I’m warning you’ look – he really doesn’t want to hear another word from her at all. Julian wears a broad smile but deep down she can feel he is very angry indeed.

Then Constance schools her face to something neutral, straightens her shoulders and increases her pace.

A minute later they arrive at the end of the horseshoe to find Suen seated on a rock before what looks like an organ keyboard set in another rock. A few seconds later Ariel, Shadra and Sheba join them.

“A brief interlude, ladies and gentlemen,” announces Shadra, “before we go our separate ways; if you would make yourselves comfortable…”

The rocks around the keyboard do seem to be smooth and of a suitable height for sitting upon.

Constance waits for Julian to sit and seats herself near him. Ariel sits next to Constance and Shadra the other side of him. Sheba sits the other side of Julian from Constance.

Suen has already pulled out a number of stops. At Shadra’s nod she begins to play. For some seconds her hands pass over the keys in utter silence. Is the instrument broken?

Then the audience realises that, like a church organ, there is a temporal delay in the playing of a key and the sounding of the note. Quietly at first, but quickly building in volume, a mellifluous melody, apparently on percussion instruments of cut glass, fills the air.

As the melody soars, the audience realises each ‘star’ in the sky gives a little flash of light with each note – it seems the stars are the instruments!

Constance gives Ariel a small smile as he sits next to her and watches with some wonder as the music unfolds through the flashing stars. He smiles cheerily back before rubbernecking at the flashing and twinkling crystals in the midnight sky.

The performance doesn’t last long, less then ten minutes, and it features strange shifts in tempo and key that remind Constance of Kageorgis’ performance on his kaval. But this time no one dies.

The performance ends and everyone applauds. Suen rises, blushing, and curtseys her thanks. Then at another nod from Shadra, she changes the stops and plays an anharmonic chord, keeping her hand on the keys. As before, it takes a few seconds for the sound to build but it’s jarring and off-key, not at all musical. To the left a shimmering opalescence appears.

“Farewell Ariel, and fare thee well Constance. We will look forward to seeing both of you again soon.”

“Thank you, Regina Shadra,” replies Ariel, “and you ladies, and you, my lord. It has been delightful.”

Julian says nothing. He’s still smiling amiably.

Constance curtsies deeply again to the Ophir women. “Regina, my Ladies. Thank you for your kindness and the sights and sounds of such singular beauty.” She bows to Julian. “Father. Until next time.” Julian nods back.

Ariel takes Constance’s arm as he turns to face the opalescence. “Shall we?” he says, unconsciously echoing Julian.

“Please,” she responds quickly.

They pass through the magical gate and find themselves standing in a cloudscape. Ariel shuts his eyes, turns his face to the chill breeze and breathes in deeply before expelling the air in a sigh.

“Well, I’ve had a very productive conversation, and most enjoyable – especially the performance at the end. How about you?”

“It was pleasant to be of service to you for a change, Ariel!” She replies. “The music was extraordinary. The conversation required was long and detailed and, thanks to you, private. Are we still able to speak privately, Lord Ariel?”

“Assuredly.” Constance gets the feeling Ariel is only too well aware that Constance has a lot on her mind.

“There is much I would share with you. Shall we start with my last dance? My last dance partner sought my attention by returning my cloak, Ariel. Has House Pheon yet discovered how it came to be removed from my private chambers?”

“Of course not, Constance – we’ve been at the Grand Ball since you first mentioned it stolen. But who was the fellow? I didn’t recognise him.”

“He introduced himself as Raffles, Ariel, and said he was of Kunstkabinett.”

“Ah!” exclaims Ariel, nodding with understanding, “Not a house I recognise, which of course means he’s ixtramurini.”

“So I understand from my Father who heard it from Lady Sheba. She suggested that he had entered the Ball apparently unchallenged. Does this match your observation, Lord Ariel?” Constance asks.

“My observation is that he danced with you. How he came to be there, I cannot say.” Ariel looks down at his feet, thoughtful. “But if he had your cloak, we must presume it was he or one of his house who took it from your room.”

“Or that they commissioned its theft or bought the stolen item, potentially, Ariel,” she considers.

Ariel shakes his head slowly, “I doubt another house was involved, that would mean two different houses have found means of entry into protected spaces – rather well protected spaces, truth to tell. And the ixtramurini tend to view each other very competitively; I can’t see them co-operating.”

He looks back up. “So you think he stole the cloak and returned it to get your attention – What did he do with your attention once he had it?”

“What he wanted from me was an introduction to the Order of the Deniable Moth.”

“Really?” Ariel seems quite surprised. “That seems… moderately unlikely, though I suppose not impossible. And you agreed…?”

Constance, taken aback, gives Ariel a look of absolute astonishment. “The Order does not exist, Ariel. It was disbanded at the order of the King.”

“Constance, we both know the truth of the matter – and it very much sounds as if this Raffles does too.”

“Of course I know that Ariel. I have lived the facade. I have spread or encouraged disinformation about the missing Head of the Order. Raffles very clearly knew when he asked me for the introduction. Even my Father seems to know that it exists – so someone has been very free with information that I understood was to be kept confidential. So who has done this thing?”

Ariel shrugs with a half-smile. “There are six-dozen houses in the Thelbane. Almost all of them have some divinatory capability and several, such as Malastar, Lord Havelock’s hosts, are dedicated to divination. House Ophir are crystalomancers, among other things.

“But frankly it is all moot. The King who disbanded the Order is dead, and Nachtherrin seeks to remove the Order from the Thelbane. It doesn’t matter.”

“Moot or not obviously at least some of his commands are still honoured. Or my family would be under open attack Ariel.”

“Well the truce has mostly been honoured, with a few obvious exceptions, including two attacks sponsored by our Order. Now Augustus is dead, actually I would expect it to be more closely followed than before, for a little while, partly out of gratitude for disposing of Augustus. But eventually it will break down completely – unless you leave, of course.

“But that is by-the-by; you are letting yourself be concerned with irrelevant minutiae when you really need to concentrate on the practicalities. What are your intentions regarding Raffles and his request for an introduction to the Order?”

“You have no idea how much more useful that information would have been not so very long ago, Lord Ariel,” Constance's hand goes to the point of impact. “So, being but a very junior member of the Order, I would think that the skills of someone who could breach the security of both House Pheon and the King's Ball would be quite useful.”

“Well, quite!”

“Yet they are ixtramurini. Tell me more, my Lord.”

“The ixtramurini are… well it’s a sort of play on words. As I said, there are some six-dozen houses in the Thelbane, Rimlord and lesser houses. But beneath them are an indeterminate number of wannabes. They have no official status and generally their prime desire is to gain official recognition and enter the Thelbane formally, gaining at least one Chaos Lord.

“Some would tell you that the name is Old Xanthic, which is supposed to be the original language of the Courts, from which all others are descended. Of course the primacy of Old Xanthic is a matter of dogma and faith, since the language itself is long dead. And the word ‘ixtramurini’ isn’t even Old Xanthic anyway.

“The term for the likes of you and your father, and the various envoys and ambassadors, is ‘extramurani’, which is a modern word in the Old Xanthic style meaning ‘from outside the walls’ – outside the Thelbane, in other words. Ixtramurini is a pun on extramurani but it’s not really Old Xanthic – it’s supposed to mean ‘the mice in the walls’, except that the closest literal translation would be ‘from within the mice’ but even that is technically wrong since the declension is all over the place. Silly really!

“House Tubal, who crafted your ring, are the same. We’re not supposed to have any contact with them officially. You can, of course, since you’re not of the Thelbane, and there’s no reason why our unofficial Order shouldn’t recruit from them and I must agree with you regarding this Raffles’ apparent abilities.”

“So, Ariel. This puts me, I think, in a useful situation for the Order. Tubal, the crafters, would they not have potential for the Order?”

“You think the Order has a need for smiths?”

“Is it only smithying that Tubal do, Ariel?”

“As far as I am aware – smiths and other crafters tend to be sedentary from of the nature of their professions but I’ve had no contact with them save regarding your ring so I cannot say for certain.”

“So Ariel,” Constance considers. “How does one contact Raffles, do you think? – and come to think of it, what are the formal procedures for someone to be recommended to the Order?”

“I have no idea how to contact Raffles but I would guess he will make contact when he deems the time is right – he does seem to be fairly resourceful. As to formally recommending to the Order: you offer his name at our next meeting but I would suggest an informal discussion with Nachtherrin first. I know there are at least two other names already mooted and if there are any more Nachtherrin will be probably be making the final selection herself – or she may allow the Order to vote, of course.”

Constance nods. “Kageorgis mentioned Merlin being a possible new member. How do you recommend I make contact with Nachtherrin before our next meeting, Lord Ariel?”

“I’ll send a demon over when we get back to Stormguard.”

“Thank you for that and for all the other things you have done for me, Lord Ariel,” she acknowledges formally and inclines her head. She pauses. “What are the possibilities of visiting House Tubal? Are there diplomatic challenges?”

“Why would you do that?”

“I have agreed to repay the cost of the ring they made. I would like to thank them for their work – or would that be inappropriate?”

“Any contact with the ixtramurini is inappropriate. I procured your ring from Tubal through a friend of a friend. You know what the payment is. If you contrive for Tubal to be recognised in the Thelbane they will have all the recompense any ixtramurini could hope for. If you don’t then any mere verbal expression of gratitude will be a slap in the face.”

“Thank you,” she replies. “Can you give me your thoughts on how I might start to influence things in Tubal’s favour? As I currently have no starting point except to ask you if your House would consider supporting them? What would they add to the mix as it were?”

“You have to understand that it cannot be known, even within my own house, that I have had any contact with the ixtramurini. Nothing can be done regarding this matter until we have a new High King, who early in his reign will make a formal request for nominations to replace extinct houses. Since we, the denizens of the Thelbane, cannot admit even informal contact with the ixtramurini, it will fall to the Extramurani, you for example, to make nominations. Until then, should the subject arise in general conversation, feel free to say that you think Tubal worthy of consideration – but you did not hear of Tubal from me. Do you understand?”

“Yes. That is now clear to me. Thank you Lord Ariel. Most clear indeed. Do you know who the main contenders are for King – and could you explain the public and covert processes?”

Ariel seems a little amused. “Ah! Yes, the ladies of Ophir had this subject at the front of their minds, too. I can tell you what I told them, though I should emphasise that, as a minor house, even a satellite of Sawall, we are not privy to the innermost thoughts of Archduke Gramble or even Lord Mandor – and there are a few things that I may know which I cannot divulge.”

“Who are the key players besides Lord Mandor, Ariel?”

“Officially, the Rimlords – unofficially, lesser members in some houses may make the political decisions behind the scenes – Lord Mandor being the most obvious example and in his case it is actually official, unlike the norm.

“I must admit to much admiration for Lord Mandor’s deft forging of a new Royal Coalition so quickly. He has Ascaris, Hendrake, Karm, Lanfranc, Zephyra and Zigo all behind his candidate. However there is some doubt over who this candidate actually is: Lord Despil is possible but I’ve a feeling he will decline. Sir Merlin’s name also comes up a lot, but he is technically ineligible until he takes the Logrus.

“If a viable candidate isn’t found soon, obviously there’s a danger that the coalition may break up and throw their votes behind other candidates, of whom there are many, though only a handful are genuinely in the running…

“Lanfranc have their own bearer of the Streak of Yellow in Childeric. Then there is Tubble of Chanicut, who would be first choice for Ophir and probably Helgram and Alhazred as well. Frangu and Pandit of Amblerash are unelectable since their blasphemy in the Duomo but in my opinion no one should take their eye off Lex of House Luthor, a minor house but of considerable ambition – they will be smarting from seeing Alhazred raised to the Rim and if the Rimlords cannot settle on one of their own then Lex may represent the best compromise from the lesser houses.”

Constance listens closely to Ariel's discourse. “I think this is the first time I have heard House Luthor mentioned, Lord Ariel. I suppose in the cause of pure self interest, were they actively supportive of the late King's policy towards Amber? Who would be the most favourable candidate in terms of our safe release?”

“In my opinion, the best candidate from your point of view would be whoever Mandor chooses to front the coalition. Neither Childeric nor Tubble were supporters of Augustus and Lex himself spent some time in exile for opposing the late High King, but I wouldn’t rely on any of them being pro-Amber, certainly not Tubble, who’s an abolitionist, or Lex, who I believe is purely out for himself.”

“Pro-Amber would be asking far too much I fear, Lord Ariel. Neutrality and a safe process by which my family and forces leave the Courts would be perfectly acceptable.”

“Rumour has it that Mandor is very much pro-Amber and his courting of Princess Fiona in the Grand Ball will have done nothing to scotch those rumours. But in the case of the others, even neutrality may be wishful thinking.”

“What part did you and your House play in the recent war, my Lord?”

“We did just what you would expect in a war, we fought.” Ariel clearly thinks this is stupid question. “I had a manticore shot from under me in the assault on Kolvir and counted myself lucky to escape alive – a dozen of my house didn’t.”

“My question was not intentionally foolish, my Lord. I am aware that some houses were more vigorous in their pursuit of the War than others. I understand a number did not fight at all.

“I was with the Rangers. We fought the retreat to the foot of Kolvir. With the men I commanded I faced your manticores, Lord Ariel. They are an effective force – it is not something I will forget in a hurry.” Her eyes go slightly out of focus and she shudders, then collects herself. “I heard the screams and I smelt burning flesh and I thanked my Horned Lady for the weapons Prince Corwin brought into play. Without them, I do not think...”, she pauses.

“I lost people I have known since I was an infant. I saw our King, my Uncle Eric, just as he died. I do not know the state of my injured men left back in Arden. We have both lost, Lord Ariel. Both Amber and the Courts have lost and I am sorry for both your losses and ours – but I am glad you survived and I am glad to have met you.” She bows her head to him.

“Forgive me, lady, I did not mean to give offence. In truth the recent wars have cost us much, Pheon not the least, which is why for my part I would wish they were done.”

Constance stops and turns to Ariel. “No offence was taken Lord Ariel,” and offers him her hand. “I fervently pray that no more ichor or blood will be shed.”

Ariel takes her hand but doesn’t quite seem to know what to do with it. “Er… likewise, lady.”

“If you would permit me, Lord Ariel?” She raises a questioning eyebrow motions towards his hand and takes it in hers. Shaking it lightly.

“Ah! I see…” When he realises what she’s trying to do, he responds appropriately.

Constance releases his hand and begins to walk again. “So, Lord Ariel. Back to the Ball. Do you think my show of strength to House Unman sufficient for them to leave me alone?”

“Oh,” smiles Ariel, “I doubt Laird Tobias will be showing his face again until you’ve left the Thelbane. Of course, if I were him I’d be planning some truly unpleasant revenge of my own, but we’re all improved by a vendetta.”

“Perhaps, Lord Ariel. Perhaps. But my Lord. I have talked of Raffles to you and bombarded you with questions. Is there anything you would have of me?”

“Actually there was something I wondered if I might help you with. I couldn’t help noticing an altercation between you and Prince Julian, during which he assaulted your person. As your host, let me assure you that House Pheon views this insult quite as seriously as yourself. We can arrange for the Prince to experience the attentions of an assassin: from House Spandrell, the Order of the Invidious Blade, or even our own Order. Which would you prefer?”

Constance pauses briefly, quite taken aback by Ariel's offer. “None of these actions are required, Lord Ariel. Though I am sorry you had to witness a father obliged to take such an action against his wayward daughter he would not have done so if it were not required and his duty to do so. I both love and respect my Father, Lord Ariel and I would have no action taken against him. I am fortunate that he was not wearing gauntlets at the time.” She attempts a small smile.

Ariel is nonplussed. “But we must do something – your honour and that of our house is at stake. This was witnessed by a Rimlord!”

“My Lord Ariel, I prefer to think of the assault as a correction by my Father, a Prince of Amber. She stops and directly catches Ariel's eye. “I do not regard myself as being dishonoured and, I repeat, no action is to be taken against Prince Julian of Amber. If action of any sort is required I will take it myself. Now, if you please, I would prefer no further discussion of this matter.”

“If you say you do not regard the incident as compromising your honour then I am prepared to take you at your word. But you must understand that the honour of House Pheon is another matter and we must take affirmative action – of course, if Prince Julian were prepared to make an official apology…”

“Lord Ariel. In my Father's eyes and in my eyes, he has not done anything wrong. I have already expressed sorrow that you witnessed that scene. Please, I beseech you. Let the matter now lie – no more blood and ichor to be shed, remember?”

Ariel rolls his eyes, how can she not see the obvious? “Lady Constance, I understand how the matter is viewed in your eyes and those of Prince Julian’s. I am endeavouring to explain how it is viewed by other eyes, specifically mine and those of Regina Shadra, who witnessed the incident. When Prince Julian apologises for his indiscretion we shall consider the matter closed. But if he does not apologise within a reasonable time frame, then, regretfully, honour demands affirmative action.”

“Ariel. Who holds the higher rank between Regina Shadra and yourself?”

“She does, of course; she is a Rimlady, I am merely the heir apparent of a minor house.”

“Could we not then perhaps leave it to the Rimlady to request an apology, Lord Ariel?” Constance inquires.

“Why should she do that? Prince Julian is her guest.” Ariel’s tone is very much that of someone explaining the obvious to the wilfully blind. “The offence is against us, it is up to us to claim restitution. If we do not, our stock will be lowered within the Thelbane. Regina Shadra will expect us to make good the insult and if we do not she will ensure everyone knows.”

Constance nods and pauses. “Lord Ariel. Now that I better appreciate this matter from the point of view of my hosts I must agree with your first analysis: the assault was on me. Let me be clear on this. As the wronged party I am perfectly capable of fighting for my own honour. I own that honour and I will not have it besmirched by anyone. Nor will I allow anyone to take action against Prince Julian on my behalf. That includes contracting assassins and fighting duels. Now I would be very pleased if you would act as my second and set things in motion as etiquette requires.” She gives Ariel a challenging look.

Ariel seems considerably surprised at this volte-face, but then his face opens in a smile and Constance becomes aware that a certain tension leaves him that she previously was not aware of.

“Let me be clear on this – you intend to challenge your own father to a duel? You are sure about this?”

“Yes, my Lord Ariel. I could not be more clear on the matter. Will you act as my second?”

“Yes! Of course!” He seems relieved. “I will be delighted. If I may speak frankly, the assassination route would have created problems of its own – we really wouldn’t want a vendetta with House Ophir; any feud would be a shame after my recent conversation with Shadra and Sheba.

“You will need another second; might I suggest someone of the blood of Amber? For my part, if you will draft a formal challenge to his highness, I will ensure it is conveyed to Nineveh with all despatch.”

“I would not have your new relationship with House Ophir damaged by idiocy, Lord Ariel. Please let me see a standard wording for a challenge and it can be conveyed to Nineveh at your convenience.” She pauses considering. “I would like my cousin William as my Amber second, Lord Ariel. Could a note be sent please for him to meet with me? Have you had any thoughts on where and when the duel should take place?”

“A ‘standard’ wording?” Ariel seems to have trouble getting his mind round the concept. “I regret there is really no such thing. You must state, in your own words, the nature of your grievance and that, if you do not receive an apology, he should meet with you at a particular time and place to settle the matter by personal contest.

“Again, any request for a second should be in your own words and in your hand. As the challengee, Prince Julian will have choice of weapons. From my studies and observations of your family, I would expect him to select the blade, though in his case I suppose it may be possible that he will choose to face you in the lists.

“You have the right to choose the time and place of the contest. It must be in an appropriate public place and reasonably soon, while allowing all parties to make suitable preparations and arrive unhurried. If he does not like the time or the place, Prince Julian must offer another location and time and give formal reasons for the change.”

Constance listens carefully. “Very well then Lord Ariel. I will see to both letters as soon as we return to Stormguard.” She continues walking but looks sombre. “Let's get this over and done with. I am not sure that that I will be permitted to... just move on, afterward,” she finishes sadly.

“Oh, in my experience a duel is a marvellous way of clearing the air. I am sure all will be well… as long as neither of you cheat, but of course that cannot happen with two such noble protagonists.”

“Could you define cheating for me please Lord Ariel,” Constance asks curiously.

“Breaking the rules – for example, using sorcery in contest of blades?”

“Ahhh. A little troublesome for me,” Constance replies. “Presumably Prince Julian's armour would also be illegal?”

“Well he could leave it off, or you could put some on – I’m sure it’s not a problem as long as one of you doesn’t have an advantage over the other.”

“Mmm. I would require him to remove it Lord Ariel. Significant advantage doesn't cover the protection that armour gives him!”

“Well that would be something to be negotiated by the seconds.”

Constance nods again. “The place must be carefully chosen Lord Ariel. Prince Julian and I are fairly closely matched in terms of our ability with blades. If I am to have any chance at all I need to be fighting somewhere that favours my dexterity and style of fighting. Can you recommend such a place?”

“Regretfully I am unaware of the difference in fighting styles between you and his Highness but in any case that sounds very much as if you are seeking an unfair advantage over him. As your second I must warn you that the venue must suit neither of you better than the other. Beyond that, the place must be public and fairly open – the Hall of Memories would be inappropriate, obviously, and of course you cannot choose the Duomo, which has only just been reconsecrated after the last spillage of ichor.”

“Ahhh. Then it may be a short fight Ariel!” She smiles ruefully.

“The duration of the duel is irrelevant, my lady.”

“As the assault took place with few witnesses, I would prefer the duel to take place in a similar environment. Is this also against the rules?”

“Again a matter to be agreed by the seconds. Since the honour of House Pheon is also implicated, I would expect a representative from my house to be present. Since I am involved as your second, I expect Archmage Prospero will want to observe and he will bring at least one other from our house. Regina Shadra actually witnessed the incident so I would be astonished if she were not present, and she may very well volunteer to adjudicate the contest.”

“Very well. I shall instruct William accordingly, Lord Ariel. But we still lack a place – perhaps I will leave that to William to decide on?”

Ariel shrugs. “As long as the venue is a public place with sufficient space for both parties to manoeuvre and for the observers to observe without getting in the protagonists’ way, the only issue is one of aesthetics. Your kinsman recently fought a duel in the Garden of Delights; there are worse places.”

Constance nods. “Yes. The Garden of Delights does sound the right place for this duel. Lord Ariel, I do suspect some of my male relatives may request to act as my champion. There are rules against that, I hope. It is a matter between Prince Julian and myself – I'd like to keep it that way.”

“It is entirely up to the protagonists concerned whether they choose to use a champion or not. Since you are the injured party, it will be expected for you to fight in person. Prince Julian is also entitled to ask for a champion. Since his prowess as a warrior is well known, if he does so it will be taken as a mark of contempt for his challenger… you. Alas there is no way to force him to fight in person, save public approbation. If he chooses a champion of superior ability, Prince Benedict, for example, then it will reflect poorly on him. But that all seems very unlikely to me – from what you have told me of your father he will want to keep everything under his personal control.”

“I believe he will want everything under his control, Lord Ariel. I harbour some residual hope that he will apologise and have done with it. He saw it as his duty to chastise me and he will see it as his duty to accept the challenge. And I will dissuade any suggestions by my male relatives to champion me when I am perfectly capable of defending myself!”

“Obviously my lady knows them best…

“Is there anything else you wish to discuss before we return to Stormguard, Constance?”

“No thank you Lord Ariel. I believe I have a few letters to compose and the sooner they are written, the sooner arrangements can be made.”

“Very well then, let us complete our journey and set to work.” He takes her hand, mumbles something incomprehensible under his breath and makes a gesture with his left hand as if casting something. With a hiss the clouds underfoot boil away and Constance has a sensation of falling. She is dimly aware that this fall is taking her through parallel realities for the sun, when visible, is in different positions, and occasionally beneath her.

Then suddenly she makes a soft landing on another cloudscape before the now familiar entrance to Stormguard – Ariel escorts her to her rooms for a well-earned rest while he sends some demons off to various destinations.