Sitting Pretty

Constance sits for Merlin to paint her trump

Ariel announces Merlin’s arrival in Stormguard and conveys Constance to an ante-room where Merlin is busy setting everything up: easel, brushes, canvas, paint, thinners, etc – everything he needs to paint a portrait.

Ariel asks, “My lady, my lord, would you mind if I observed from the side? I am fascinated by this archaic art and would dearly love to see the creative principle in action.”

Constance detects genuine interest on his part but she suspects Ariel, as with Havelock, does not wish to leave her alone with an unknown quantity.

Merlin shrugs, he doesn’t seem to mind, but inclines a quizzical head toward Constance…

Constance flashes Merlin a quick smile. “Of course you may remain, Lord Ariel,” she replies.

Ariel duly places a stool off to one side where he can see the canvas past Merlin’s right elbow and Constance beyond. “It is my intent to remain quiet so as not to disturb the creative process.”

Merlin nods his thanks for Ariel’s consideration. With his preparations complete, Merlin pulls a card from his own deck and holds it to Constance. “Cousin, please take my trump for your own deck – you may gather my style from it.”

Constance takes the card carefully and at her first glance stops, her mouth faintly open in surprise. She gazes at the portrait at length.

Merlin seems not to notice Constance’s reaction and busies himself squirting paints onto his palette. “As you can see, I prefer my portraits to focus on the head and face.” He gestures to a tall stool, like a bar stool in height. “Please make yourself comfortable and then we can explore some poses.”

Constance breaks her gaze from the portrait. “I’ve not seen anything like this before, cousin. Extraordinary style!”

“You like it?” There’s a faint air of uncertainty in Merlin’s voice. “It’s a sort of halfway-house between styles typical of the Courts and those of Amber, from what I’ve seen of work by Dworkin and Brand.”

She places the trump down, walks to the model’s stool and takes her place on it, adjusting herself until she is comfortable.

Merlin asks her to face one way then another until he finally decides Constance looks best facing directly to the left, from Merlin’s point of view. “Mmm! I think you’re a natural profile,” he comments.

“I’ve only seen Dworkin’s deck and one of Havelock’s Trumps. There is so much more than the subject in their paintings. I like your abstract expression. A lot!” She gives him an uncertain look. “What makes a natural profile, cousin?”

Merlin is clearly pleased with the compliments. “Oh, it’s entirely subjective, of course – I just think your character shows best in profile.” He thinks for a moment, no doubt seeking conscious rationalisation for what must have been an instinctive decision. “Your eyes are striking, of course, but full-face they rather overpower your other features. The strength of your jaw and the grace of your cheekbones come out better in profile.”

Constance blushes very slightly at his description of her features. She’s not accustomed to personal compliments.

“Ahhh. My eyes.” She smiles ruefully. “Can’t choose our genetic inheritances I’m afraid!”

Merlin begins sketching with a bit of charcoal. “I guess you didn’t get them from uncle Julian – most of the family have green eyes, or blue. But I know nothing of your mother’s parentage…”

“I am afraid that I know very little at all about my mother. Is it important for your work to know, Merlin?”

“Um…” Merlin frowns in reply, partly in concentration, “…it might be – it’s hard to say at this stage.”

Constance doesn’t elucidate further at this stage. She can feel the personal attention of the artist beginning to deepen into the weak psychic link she recalls from sitting for Havelock. It’s hard to be sure but Constance feels it’s taking a little longer to attain the rapport. However she has no idea why that might be, maybe she’s wrong.

“So…” Merlin pauses as he applies paint to the naked canvas with his tongue protruding between his lips, “…this will take some time – is there anything you’d like to ask me?” Constance is sure there’s something he’d like to ask her but evidently he’s happy to bide his time for the propitious moment.

Constance keeps her model’s stance. A thought flits briefly through her mind that one side-effect of this particular pose is that Constance can’t maintain it and keep her eye on the artist – Merlin is just a movement behind the easel out of the corner of her eye. But she dismisses that thought – after all, Ariel is also present and observing.

“Tell me about growing up in the Courts, Merlin.”

“Well there’s not that much to tell. My birth was a bit of a scandal, so I’m told, what with mother deserting her husband for my father, and then coming back to the Courts for her confinement. But Mandor persuaded his father, mother’s husband, the Archduke Gramble, to accept her back and formally adopt me.

“So from my earliest memory I was raised in privilege. My early education was by private tutors but otherwise pretty much par for the Courts for a person of my adopted rank. I was schooled in magic, weapons, poisons, riding and dancing. I learned battle-magics from my mother’s house, mind-magics from Sawall.

“Then when I got a bit older I could choose a placement and I was taken with Suhuy’s description of Hierophus’ ancient art of creating trumps. Mother didn’t like it but strangely Mandor backed me all the way.”

Constance smiles slightly at Merlin’s description of the standard education in the Courts. “Mandor once told me that he had no great knowledge of the trumps – interesting that he saw your ability as a way to fill that gap in his knowledge”, she comments.

“No, Mandor has never studied the trumps, but then he is hardly alone in that – it’s a vanishing art. Actually he’s always spoiled me a little. Please tell me of your childhood?”

“Mine? I was literally found and raised in Arden. Prince Julian was my guardian. I have spent virtually all of my life there. I was taught the usual things by his household but spent as much time as I could in the forest: climbing trees, learning the skills of a good ranger – tracking, hunting, riding, fighting and the like. I had dinner with him once a month and minders for the rest of the time.

“After an incident in Arden, he trumped me through to the Pattern Room of Amber and I walked the Pattern. That was the only time I have actually been in Amber. He taught me all of my Pattern skills. I feel as though I’ve known words of power since I was small. I can use weapons and am good with a bow.” She smiles. “My knowledge of poisons is small – but I can dance.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Constance senses Merlin stop at the mention of ‘an incident in Arden’. The trump link is weak but she can feel Merlin in her mind – she finds him easier to sense than Havelock, who was usually more subtle. After a moment the feeling subsides and Merlin resumes painting.

“After? Actually it was some years after, wasn’t it? And are you sure the incident was in Arden?”

“It felt immediate at the time Merlin. I was 15. I made an unwise decision as 15 year olds are want to do. I was 18 when my Lord Warden trumped me through to the Pattern room and I walked the Pattern. Any younger would have been too high a risk.

“My unwise decision was made in Arden. I was carefully groomed in Faerie by someone for reasons that I have never truly fathomed. Political, doubtless. I am unsure of my status there. The fact that I made little or no attempt to leave there…” she shrugs, “well, it places me under a cloud. I am a risk to the family and a constant opportunity to those in Faerie who would use me to their own ends.”

“I understand how you must feel.” Merlin sounds grim. “I know nothing of Faerie save that it is a Far Realm but I have spent most of my short life as an instrument of politics, even before my birth. It’s one reason why I want to get away… the main reason.”

“You have my respect for turning down Mandor’s plans for you. I once saw him angry and I was uncomfortable being in the same room even when the anger wasn’t directed at me.”

“Yes, he is dangerous to provoke but my experience is that he is far less dangerous when he is shouting than when he restrains his anger – you’ll recall how he was after the Abolitionists invaded Vanguard? He hardly looked angry at all and actually seemed amused at Jurt’s outburst, but no one’s seen the Archduke since. But as I said, Mandor has always spoiled me – he was disappointed but I’m not sure he was surprised.”

Constance coughs slightly at the mention of the Archduke. “Ariel. What is discussed here stays here if you please.”

“Assuredly.” Ariel is out of her sight but his calm, instant assurance tells Constance he will be discrete.

“Yes I do recall that Mandor seemed unnaturally calm. Just as well there was an invigorating skirmish to dispel the tensions really. Merlin, what was it like to meet your father?”

“Oh?” Merlin seems surprised at the question. “Well it was a chance encounter, I suppose. Kwan and I were out over the Abyss, hunting Tlinga, when he got warning of an intruder on the outer lip. We changed filmies and investigated.

“Kwan was always a better rider than I and he charged the intruder. I confess I was shocked and surprised when the intruder dealt with him summarily and I elected to use my hunting crossbow rather than risk a close encounter. But then I recognised Grayswandir and I knew him as my father…

“It was an odd feeling, without warning to suddenly meet in the flesh the man I had been schooled in so deeply. Looking back on it, ‘chance’ doesn’t seem quite the right term – I don’t know why I feel uncomfortable over using the word but ‘fate’ does seem more appropriate.”

“What did your schooling tell you about him, Merlin?”

“Many things, everything on record, which is a lot – he’s a great man – but this is meant to be a portrait of you.”

“Yes,” she half laughs. “Yes, Merlin. So it is.”

Silence reigns as Merlin busies himself in the application of paint. It’s not an uncomfortable silence and Constance suspects he’s marshalling his thoughts. Then after a few minutes…

“You know – you must know – the enmity between your father and mine is legendary.”

“Well it may been expressed a little on occasion, Merlin,” she pauses. “I sincerely hope it won’t influence our relationship though.”

There’s another silence from Merlin. Constance senses a brief flurry of activity on the surface of her mind and she suspects Merlin is trying to verify her spoken words. Then, after a minute…

“My father says it was your father’s idea to blind him!”

“Pardon?” Responds Constance in astonishment. Constance breaks her pose and turns directly towards Merlin, looking genuinely upset.

“Merlin, I was not privy to what was done on that day and by whom. I had a furious argument with my father over his refusal to take me to the coronation and I absented myself without leave deep in Arden. However, from what the rangers later told me, that decision was taken by Eric and not by my father.”

Merlin blinks nervously. Ariel abandons his pose of lackadaisical spectation and leans forward, suddenly intent.

“Um, that’s what my father told me – he said Julian said so himself. He said it was Eric’s order but Julian’s suggestion.”

“Please let me consider this,” she casts her mind back. “When your father and Prince Bleys attacked Amber with their forces, I was among the rangers harrying them through Arden. My specific orders were that I was to slow them but not to outright kill either of them – else I would bring their blood curse on me. I had plenty of killing bow shots open to me, but I heeded that warning as it has been drilled into me since I started training.

“Now, if – no, when – my father suggested such an act, it may have been to avoid the Blood curse on Eric. It may be worth clarifying if any further explanation was given when my Father spoke with yours about the events at that time. My Father’s actions may feel extreme at times, but there is usually thought beyond malice at their heart.”

“But it didn’t stop the Blood curse – that’s why Eric died and how the Chaos road was forced through – my father cursed Eric as he felt the heat of the irons…” Merlin hurries on to stop Constance interrupting, “…but that’s not important. What is important is that my father believes their enmity is fading, that despite everything he believes your father to be a fair man, if not a particularly nice one. I just want your view of this…”

Constance has no intention of interrupting. She considers his words – and takes time to choose her own.

“I can see wisdom in your father’s words, Merlin. My father is, of all of the princes, the one who is the most duty bound to Amber. I too, do not always like his methods but I do believe that the legendary enmity between our fathers will cease.”

“You think?” Merlin applies paint to the canvas. From where Constance sits it looks like he’s slapping it on without due attention but beyond him Ariel seems to settle back into a more relaxed posture. “It’s just that I’ve spent so much time as a pawn here, I don’t want to find myself in the same deal when I leave.” He gestures for Constance to resume her pose. “So, is there anything you think might queer the pitch between them – between all of us, for that matter?”

“You’ll be wanting some sort of a list then?” Constance positions herself into the original pose. She is clearly considering and she doesn’t wait for or expect an answer. “There will certainly be a groundswell of testosterone when all of the princes are together.”

“You see some sort of innate competitiveness provoking discord? Is there anything we can do to ease this?”

“Yes,” she replies simply. “Who will lead us out of the Courts? Benedict may discount himself which leaves Bleys or your father. But I believe we can influence and act behind the scenes as we have done in the Courts and find solutions our parents will find satisfactory.”

Merlin nods slowly. “I’ve only just got to know my father so I don’t know how likely it is he will listen to me, but I will try to make him listen.”

“We will have to do our best over this one Merlin. There will be other roles to consider. For example, Caine was the lead diplomat in the Courts. I really don’t know who will lead during the journey. I think it will depend on direct and relevant experience – and don’t discount our aunts in this.”

“Father seemed to assume Benedict will command the army until we get to Amber but you seem very unsure about that?”

“Benedict is... not quite himself at the moment. I believe he feels the loss of his arm greatly but he... Well…” she pauses, “…you might have noticed during the Abolitionists’ attack that Benedict broke ranks and was stunned and taken to the floor by his robot opponent. That is most unlike Benedict.”

“Yes! Father remarked on it, though he believes Benedict thought it necessary to turn their flank – and he’s also sure that he wouldn’t have gone down with two good arms.”

“Really? At the time Benedict broke ranks, it was pretty clear that the combined weight of princes Benedict, Corwin, Bleys and lords William, Darig and Havelock, together with Belissa and assorted weapons plus the offensive magics flowing from the gallery were easily enough to deal with that attack? Even my Lord Warden didn’t stop my advance to my cousins.”

“Lord Warden…?”

“Ah. Sorry Merlin. I ought to have said my father.”

“You refer to your father by his title or office… I see…” Merlin seems to think he has gained a surprising and somewhat unwelcome insight into the nature of the relationship between father and daughter. “Look, I’m not a veteran of war so I’ll have to take your word for it.”

“I am failing to remember not to refer to my father by his title, Merlin. Comes of years of habit I am afraid.” She shrugs. “My existence was kept very quiet.”

“I understand – anything else?”

“Well,” she sounds more subdued at Merlin’s reaction to her use of Julian’s title. “We don’t know the magnitude of change across Shadow, and that, to me, creates more uncertainty. Any of my thoughts should be tempered by this.”

“Shadow is something you must understand far better than me.” He continues to apply paint but with rather more care and precision now.

“So, cousin, you could warn your father that Morgenstern is here with us in the Courts – alive and well and quite capable of movement. The Hall of Memories revealed to me an image of Morgenstern-sized teeth-rips in an item of bloodied silvery black clothing. I would not like to see the results in real life.”

“You’ve visited the Hall of Memories? Brave of you!” He shrugs. “I may warn my father of your threat but I haven’t yet decided if I shall avenge Kwan upon his person.”

“Please do pass on that warning.” She turns to him with a full smile. “By My Lady, I really hope that you don’t decide to take vengeance for Kwan upon him. I’ve only just met both of you... and hasn’t there been vengeance enough?”

Merlin shrugs again. “Some people will expect it but Mandor has told me not to bother, that he would have killed Kwan himself if father hadn’t beaten him to it – he killed another brother before I was born so I think he meant what he said.”

Constance looks surprised at the revelation about Mandor. “Let them expect what they like, Merlin. You are your own person.” She returns to her pose. “How has Jurt not caught Mandor’s close attention?”

“What makes you think he hasn’t?” Without waiting for a reply, Merlin continues, “But this picture is of you… Tell me, what is important to you?”

“Arden is the most important thing to me, Merlin. Of all things,” she replies promptly.

“Despite a liberal education I have no experience of life outside of the Courts – I have heard my father describe Arden but I would like to hear it in your words.”

“Just words, cousin?” She speaks with longing, her lips slightly parted. “Ariel, may I show Lord Merlin what I showed you?”

“That depends on which particular thing you are referring to… If it is perchance a demonstration of your Elfin magics, then I am not averse.”

“Then I shall illustrate my words, my lords, with the condition that you do not move against what you will see.” She waits for agreement.

Merlin looks round at Ariel who, wearing an expression of amusement, closes his eyes and nods back. “Well, OK I guess…” says Merlin back to Constance.

“It is beyond my word-smithing to do full justice to the forest that is Arden. I shall illustrate as we go.

“I have explored and experienced such a small part of her. She is the archetype. Never mapped, and a forest that has echoes well beyond her borders with Amber and spreading throughout shadow. I am of her. She is my home. She nurtured me. She is where I was found. She was my playground and playmate. Where my soul is nurtured. Where I worked and worked and where I find peace.”

Constance pauses and firstly recasts the Glamour that she created in her chambers. The light changes so that it dapples, literally dancing through the high tree canopy that is now above them. Constance’s stool is now a bole projecting from the trunk of a prodigiously huge oak-like tree. She relaxes against the trunk and sighs gently. There are so many variants of leaf within this scene. The impression is overwhelmingly verdant green yet berry colours shine throughout her impression. And in the shaded areas are violets and a myriad of small wild flowers. Vines wind their way up and across trunks and the texture is carefully drawn next to the bark and branches that it covers. The scent of leaf mould is heavy in the air and, although the air is heavy, here there is a slight breeze that causes the movement in the canopy above. The sound of the leaves provides a soundtrack together with the small movements of the birds, animals and small insects that also call Arden home.

[BTW, everything you describe, including the ‘soundtrack’ is A-OK, but if you want individual small animals to appear, they will be separate Glamours which you will need to describe in your next post.]

[Don’t need to see the animals – just to hear them quietly about their business.]

[Boo hiss!]

Merlin is not actually startled by the transformation, presumably he is used to magical workings with a broadly similar effect. He looks up and around, squinting at the dappled sunbeams. He sniffs the rich, earthy scent. Then his gaze drops down to Constance and he watches her in relation to the surroundings. Ariel smiles indulgently, stirring not a whisker.

Her preferred colours reflect those in the scene around her. Greens, violet and coppery lengths of the vine. She gives him a quick grin and gets to her feet. Using the edge of the bole as a step, she starts to climb the tree, taking full advantage of the natural nooks and crannies she knows where to locate on that tree. At about the five-foot mark, she swings herself up onto a branch. She seems comfortable and certain in her movements. Finally, standing balanced on the branch, she glamours a bow and stares down at them with a haughty expression.

“How would you have me now, Cousin Merlin?”

Merlin looks up, nonplussed. He opens his mouth to speak but Ariel, rising to stand next to him, beats him to it. The humour has gone from Ariel’s eyes.

“Constance, I presume you are merely showing off but I shall be displeased if your brandishing of that weapon is intended as a threat to our guest.”

“Peace, Ariel!” she responds immediately. The bow vanishes. “I am demonstrating to my cousin that Arden, to me, is also a place of peril – not filled with rabbits and wild flowers. It needs constant patrolling and above all awareness of potential threats and of changes, no matter how innocuous they might seem. Arden requires me to be skilled with weapons – a bow, a sword and my intuition.”

With the bow gone, Ariel smiles again, albeit sardonically. “I think you have demonstrated that the only dangerous thing here, is you.” Ariel resumes his stool.

Merlin seems oblivious to the exchange between the other two and instead surveys the treescape intently, rubbernecking in every direction. He seems particularly taken with a small stream not far away.

One thing that becomes obvious to Constance in her perch is that, while she has successfully portrayed the appearance, sound and even smell of Arden, yet this is clearly not Arden, but a pale imitation.

Constance refrains from responding to Ariel’s snipe. She watches Merlin’s exploration and her joy fades at her work as the realisation sets in. She swings down from the branch and drops down the last few feet to join Merlin on the ground.

Merlin starts painting again, but evidently he’s now incorporating what he can see into the background. “I see what you mean,” he observes, “Arden is within you…”

“It is Merlin. But not this poor copy of Arden. This is... lacking in all ways.” She sighs. “I fear that with a hundred years with which to cast my small magics it would still only be an imitation.

“I cannot adequately describe that which is important to me. If you really want to understand Arden from my perspective then I would have to be unwise and let you into my head. I will admit that I want you to see the forest as I know her.”

“Oh that’s OK – I can see inside your head.”

“This copy,” she indicates her Glamour, “is really a distraction now.” She removes it. “Would thinking on Arden help you to see it more clearly, Merlin, or shall we discuss the potential challenges around our fathers?”

“I thought we’d already done that?” Merlin is concentrating on his painting. “You already are thinking about Arden. Honestly I think we ought to explore other subjects… such as how did you get that scar on your cheek? It looks recent.”

“Very recent. I lost an honour duel,” she replies in a matter of fact way.

Merlin raises an eyebrow inviting further enlightenment.

“I failed to respect my father in the way I should,” she is very still. “He struck me after I provoked him and it was witnessed. As I was a guest of House Pheon I was advised that unless I took action the insult would be acted on. I was advised,” her eyes flicker to Ariel, “that an honour duel would satisfy all injuries and would clear the air.”

“And did it?”

“I sincerely hope so, cousin,” she replies.

“Returning to Arden, you spoke of something missing from your illusion. I was greatly taken with it despite this but there were elements of the soundscape that did not appear in the tapestry. Are you only taken with the flora of Arden?” Constance senses that the question is partly rhetorical, that Merlin expects the answer to be a shade of ‘no’.

“Of course not Merlin – I am sure you have already confirmed that as you’ve been reading me. What, specifically, has caught your eye?” She responds easily.

“You have a visual mind and excellent recall, I’m sure, but nonetheless I can only sense surface thoughts. You have provided sounds but I do not know what creatures might create such sounds. Why don’t you tell me about the animals that mean the most to you?”

“The most to me? As a ranger, in Arden my horse means the most to me in practical terms and spiritually the Unicorn, but of course my Horned Lady is hardly an animal and I never came across her in Arden. What you heard in the vastness of sounds Merlin, were the barks of foxes, the screams of the vixens and the squeals of the kits and they above all animals mean the most to me.”

“Show me a fox!” Evidently Merlin has never seen one.

“Let me show you one in that case, Merlin!”

Constance narrows her eyes slightly and smiles. In her hand there is now a card some 6x8 inches and she passes it to Merlin. The image on the card is of a small to medium dog-sized mammal with a thick and bushy reddish coat and a long bushy tail. The fox has a very narrow face, flattened skull and pricked ears. It has very intelligent looking eyes.

“I love their look, their movement and intelligence. The rangers use an expression ‘as cunning as a fox’. I prefer that to ‘as sly as a fox’, which you will hear people say when the foxes have got into the chickens.”

“Yes, I see why you like it – charismatic and intelligent with just a touch of evil. But why exactly does the fox capture your love ahead of other creatures?”

“Its beauty. It is all of the things I have said and it is fast and sleek and can run all day. It is a survivor. It can adapt to environments. It is functional – but it is stunningly beautiful as well.”

“Mmm!” Merlin places the card on his easel and ponders as he mixes a bright rust-red and then applies it to the canvas. “It is unusual for someone to know their father but not their mother. Your father must know of her, what has he told you?” It seems while he is painting a fox he is thinking of something else.

“My mother? The first and only time I raised the subject of my mother’s identity was just after we released him from Karm. He was... surprised at my question. All he would tell me was that she was a lady of the Faerie courts (both of them). Torc referred to her in the doggerel he spoke at the late Emperor’s Ball – you may remember it, Ariel?”

“Of course!” replies Ariel, “Though many of the allusions went over my head.”

Constance continues immediately. “My father said their union was a political need to stop your father. Aunt Flora confirmed this. Both sides needed Faerie allies and Eric’s side got there first. My father became increasingly reluctant to discuss anything more about her. The short conversation finished with his admonishment that she had deserted me, that she was not worthy of me and never would be. I now know a little more but not from my Father – and other things have occurred to me...”

Merlin continues applying paint with his eyes darting from the canvas to Constance and the small picture of the fox on his easel, but his thought seems to be elsewhere. “So you have never known your mother at all?”

“No. Torc has shown me an image that he claims is of her and given me the name of Verity or Deichtine. I cannot verify that Torc might be lying or mistaken and the image of her false. But there is something that has begun to trouble me about this whole story, Merlin.”

Merlin flashes a brief glance, encouraging his subject to continue.

“Bear with me. A vixen – a female fox, never willingly deserts her kits – her children, except in the most dire emergency.” She continues, “Now my father, who has a certain prejudice against women, told me that ‘she cast you aside ere you were scarce weaned’. Which in itself is a damning condemnation.

“But consider this. What if she was keeping me safe and away from Faerie? Why, if she cast me aside, would she have had me left, swaddled, right next to a known trilithon where my father’s rangers regularly patrolled and indeed they found me as they passed on their return? Why was there a note pinned to me for the attention of the Warden of Arden? And why was there a note saying that I was not to be exposed to cold iron? Those are not the actions of the mother described to me by my father.” She shrugs. “Or maybe I am not facing up to my reality.”

Merlin shrugs. “Obviously I can’t answer these questions, but your words explain why I can find no trace of your mother in this trump…”

She laughs very slightly. “I don’t know. Of the players involved Eric is dead, my father won’t discuss, and Caine…” She grimaces. “Maybe not. Ask your father if he knew Deichtine when he was in Faerie? Maybe he could tell me more?”

“If it is important to you, you should ask him yourself.”

“Yes. I will speak to your father about Deichtine. You are quite right. Actually Merlin, with your artist’s eye – who do I look like?”

“You look like yourself.” He shrugs again. “How could I paint your trump if you looked like anyone else?”

“What else have you picked up from me, Merlin? I assume that my elfin looks give away half my heritage?” She is good humoured about this.

“No, I thought there was something exotic in the mix but we in the Courts have vanishingly small contact with the Far Realms so until you spoke I did not know the specifics of your ancestry. The ‘art’ of painting trumps lies in capturing the essence of the subject. Lesser nuances can be useful and may make the picture more entertaining but their capture is not actually crucial to the final piece.”

“So, I am still uncertain about the extent that my Fey bloodlines have influenced my being. I know that my father, when irritated with something I have done, will start to blame it on my ‘Fe...’ and he leaves it there. Frankly it is open to interpretation whether his criticism is aimed at me for being female or being Fey. But I am half Fey and I am female. Perhaps my love of movement is indicative of being Fey. Do you enjoy dancing Merlin?”

“It depends upon the dance…” he continues applying paint in a rapid but careful manner, unflustered by the non-sequitur, “…and the partner.”

“My dance and sword masters were Faerie. They instilled in me a style of fighting that takes the best of dance movements but moves it into a more martial style. Ariel tells me that there is little between my fighting style and my dancing and he has been privy to both.”

“This is a truth,” comments Ariel from his stool – he seems very taken with Merlin’s composition.

“I should like to dance with you one day Merlin. It’s a pity you missed the recent ball – though I doubt Nachtherrin would have given you up easily. There were many dances and partners to be had.”

Merlin blushes at the mention of Nachtherrin and covers this by ducking down behind the canvas for a tricky bit.

A look of sorrow passes over Constance’s face. “I had no intent of embarrassing you, Merlin. I am sorry if I have done so – no malice was intended but I am not really familiar with that aspect of life,” she says quietly.

“As a general rule,” observes Ariel, “when you have inadvertently embarrassed someone, it is actually best not to draw attention to this fact, such as through an apology – especially when there is a third party to overhear. It is more politic to simply change the subject and, only if absolutely necessary, offer an apology in private.”

Constance blushes in shame. “Thank you, Lord Ariel.”

Ariel smiles back and returns his attention to the canvas. A minute or two later, Merlin slowly emerges into view, still painting furiously. “I’m getting a lot of fear and worry…” he observes.

Constance flicks him a look and doesn’t offer an immediate reply, but after a minute…

“You are also of two distinct cultures, Merlin. Do you feel secure in that knowledge and of your future?”

“I am not entirely sure what you mean by ‘secure in that knowledge’,” – Constance senses that Merlin really means ‘not at all sure’ – “but I am certainly not confident of my future.”

He sighs deeply. “If I stay here, my family will expect me to take the Logrus and involve myself in politics. We hope our new High King will last as long as Augustus but, come the next succession event, everyone will remember I bear the Streak of Yellow and once again I will have to set myself against those who would thrust the Triple Crown at me: Mandor, mother – people I love.

“So it’s my intention to leave the Courts with my father and return to Amber. But he fears I may become a focus for insurrection for anyone unhappy with Random’s rule – and there’s bound to be some, according to him.”

“Merlin, if you’ve not walked the Logrus, would walking the Pattern remove you from the succession here? I don’t intend insult by my question and in truth I have now twice witnessed the change after people take the Logrus. I like you as... you.”

“Yes, Suhuy has told me that you can only take one of the great polar powers, so walking the Pattern will bar me from the Logrus and the succession within the Courts – but my fear is that I would be jumping from one frying pan into another – to become a pawn in the Amber succession.”

“I can see that being a concern. The difference this time is that the Unicorn gave the Jewel to the Random. He didn’t self-select or fight wars to prevent other brothers from ruling. My Horned Lady gave it to him! I pray my uncles and my father will continue to remember this. Besides which, if they insist on looking for an heir, William is the oldest grandson descended from the oldest child.” She shrugs. “Has your father suggested who might try and use you in this way?”

“Family – he seems to think none of them can be trusted, except possibly Benedict. He says Gerard is honest but too easily manipulated by the others. He believes the Unicorn’s gift will keep everyone straight for a while but sooner or later someone’s nose will be out of joint and then it will all start all over again. It is only a matter of time…”

“Yes. Sooner or later someone’s nose will be out of joint. But the memory of what has happened in more recent times might hold their hand from any rash act. I hope the new King will think before he acts and that he can keep various members of the family very busy indeed. The King will need to so careful...” she pauses, clearly thinking.

“Rashness is not to be feared; father says the treason of the redheads was premeditated and calculated and that is the real threat. Father is sure Random will be given much slack and, thanks to the Unicorn, this may last some while. But we are all immortal, which means we must outlast any honeymoon period.”

“Your father still considers the redheads a threat?” Constance asks. “Bleys has behaved as an uncle towards me and given good advice and support on occasion. Fiona is, bar some stitching, largely unknown to me and Brand is, well, dead!”

“Well dead, but not very dead – still twitching… so rumour has it,” smirks Merlin. “Father used the redheads just as an example. From my own experience, if you focus on a past threat, regarding it as primary, you’re in danger of missing an actual threat – grave danger.”

“Prince Brand is more than twitching. He was my penultimate dance at the Ball,” Constance responds flatly. “He dances rather well.

“But I am more interested in the nature of the actual threat to Amber, Merlin. I am putting aside the enmity between our fathers as it is a known factor.” She pauses. “Margrath had the opportunity to ask a question of a nettle whilst attending a meeting of his order. The question was ‘what are the threats to Amber?’ and the talkative plant responded with the names Abaddon, Argent and Unseelie”.

Merlin shrugs, still painting, but not as ferociously as he was a few minutes ago. “Means nothing to me, I’m afraid.”

“Well. Let me explain further. Abaddon is a duke of Hell and perhaps also a domain. Unseelie is one of the two Courts of Faerie – I have no idea which one I belong to, by the way – and, beyond a heraldic colour, I have hit a blank regarding Argent. I can say in passing that my father showed concern at the first two names.”

Merlin shrugs again.

Constance looks at Merlin directly. “And you’ve never heard of Argent.”

He looks as directly back. “Didn’t I just say so?” He drops his brush onto his palette in disgust. “My life has been short and I’ve spent most of it in the Courts. I’ve been outside the walls just twice and never beyond Ygg. How in Amber should I know what’s happening there? Why are you asking me about your stupid anxieties? You’re from Amber; if you don’t know, why should I?”

“Lord Merlin…” Ariel’s voice carries mild rebuke.

“Sorry!” Merlin seems only slightly abashed. “But she’s implying I’m lying!”

Ariel raises an eye at Constance. “Lady, you did seem to doubt Lord Merlin’s word?”

“I am sorry Merlin,” she says with more warmth. “I was just surprised that you weren’t aware of the colour Argent. Maybe the warning is just about the colour. I really do appreciate that your travel experiences have been restricted. My experience of anywhere outside of Arden is too. I’ve spent no more than an hour in the City of Amber ever. Perhaps we can explore together when things have settled?” She looks sincere. Her tone is conciliatory.

“I know about the colour!” Merlin’s voice is low and angry and Constance knows that he knows that she was not talking about the colour, so her apology is not an apology at all. But she also senses that he’s not sure what course to take. Finally he nods, mutters “Accepted!” and picks up his brush. He resumes painting but it will take a while to regain the rapport.

“Thank you Merlin.”

Ariel offers a mild smile to Constance as he resumes his stool. “A change of subject perhaps…?”

She nods to Ariel. “So Merlin. Like you. I am not well travelled. Amber doesn’t really feature in my experience. The only place I have spent any time in outside of Arden is somewhere in Faerie. The circumstances of my arrival and my time there may explain a little of the fear and worry you picked up on earlier. Would that interest you?”

“Not really! I just want to get this over.” Merlin is frowning intently, partly out of concentration, probably trying to re-establish the rapport.

Ariel licks his lips but drops his gaze to his hands crossed in his lap, saying nothing.

Constance sits quietly and ignores Ariel’s interest. She is thinking of the trilithons in Arden – particularly the trilithon she followed Garamond through. After a while – a good ten minutes of silence broken only by the faint sounds of brush on canvas – she begins to feel the re-opening of the rapport. She remains silent and thinking about Faerie and Summer’s Twilight.

The rapport deepens. Merlin paints ferociously, working the paint into the canvas, clearly intent on finishing the painting as quickly as possible. Constance can sense him in her mind but there’s no feeling of the searching she experienced earlier – it’s like the link is there, but he’s not using it.

She opens her mind a little more to him. “Please don’t stop, cousin,” she says quietly to him.

“All good things have to end,” he replies, grimly. “Another half hour and I can finish it back home. You’ll appreciate that I’ll have to take back my trump – I really don’t think we should be calling each other – but I’ll get this trump to you by demon.”

“Merlin. I asked if you would paint me so we could contact each other, if necessary, whilst we help the Order to leave Chaos. You would have a trump of me and I one of you. The need for communication still stands and I would... like you to contact me.”

“Listen woman!” Merlin’s tone is savage. “I don’t know where you got the idea that I’m stupid but I do know why the Order needs your trump, so once I’ve finished this portrait I’ll make sure everyone gets a copy – but I won’t keep one for myself and I don’t want you calling me. If I never see or hear you again I will die happy. Understand? Mother was right about you.”

“By My Lady!” She responds coldly. “Your mother, made a presumption about me that was so insulting and wrong that I bit back. Great start to a conversation because as you’ve been in my head you might realise that I am no paramour let alone Mandor’s! So I am sorry I failed to meet her expectations. Grow up, mummy’s boy, and untie that umbilical cord!”

Merlin makes no response but Ariel rises to his feet. “Lord, Lady, I think it is time to call a halt. It has been a fascinating exercise. My lady, if you would convey yourself to your chambers I will call on you once I have seen our guest on his way.”

While talking, Ariel glides into a position between artist and subject. Merlin wipes his brush on a rag and begins packing up.

Constance drops the fox Glamour image, leaves Merlin’s trump where it is and leaves the chamber.

***

It is some time before Ariel keeps his promise and shows up at her door, about half an hour. “My lady, may I come in?”

“Of course, Ariel.”

He enters quietly and makes himself comfortable on a nearby chair. His temper seems calm and unruffled. “Well,” he opens, in a manner suggesting a summing up, “Lord Merlin has left. He has apologised for his part in that altercation and expressed hope that it will not damage relations between Sawall and Pheon. I have assured him that it will not.

“He expressed some irony over your parting words, since one reason why he wishes to leave the Courts is to escape his mother’s influence, which he feels is somewhat cloying and intrusive. He is not looking forward to apologising to his mother, who warned him against meeting with you beforehand.

“My dear,” he observes, “you seem to have a talent for provoking discord with your discourse.”

Constance is reclined on a chaise lounge. There is now a trilithon in her chambers to her left and on a wall to her right is an image of the Amber she dreamt of, airships and all. On her lap are two cards. One is her trump of Julian and the other has a Glamour from her memory of the image of Deichtine that Torc produced for her.

“I am glad there is no ill will between your Houses, Ariel,” she responds evenly. “I regret my part in the altercation as well.”

“I am glad to hear it – though what surprises me most, having been party to several of your ‘altercations’, is how inept you are at apologising, bearing in mind how often you do it.” He considers carefully. “I think it was the apology that did most of the damage this time. Your parting comment was just bad manners, which I recall remarking on before.”

“Most of my conversations end with a simple good bye, Ariel. In truth you have witnessed few.”

She sits up. “What you don’t appreciate is how it feels to have your father’s duty to Amber questioned and various of my, sorry our, relatives labelled as traitors. He left his own father’s treachery off the list by the way. Then he finished by telling that me that I was as bad as his mother had painted me. So he started the conversation already prejudiced. I inadvertently made him blush. I queried Argent and he took offence. I did not do well. None the less. Thank you for your interventions.”

“Dear me! There’s a lot there. Well let me answer as well as I am able – please hear me out.

“In truth I have witnessed only a few of your discourses but you must admit that I have overheard many of your apologies among them: to Ubermeister and the Order in general, personally to me, Kageorgis, Prince Julian and now Merlin – and I have heard of others…

“Merlin used the word treason, about the ‘redheads’ – but he was reporting his father’s words and went out of his way to downplay their culpability – though it is widely known in the Courts, of course, that Princess Fiona and Princes Bleys and Brand sided with the Courts against Amber. I didn’t hear any ‘list’…

“Neither can I recall when Merlin questioned your father’s duty to Amber. As a disinterested observer, I thought his early raising of the past rivalry between your fathers was done to clear the air – he did say that Prince Corwin believes their antipathy is passing and Merlin seemed to be making overtures to ensure this process continues. And it seemed to me that you took his overtures in good faith and responded in kind.

“I understand you have anxieties about this… ‘Argent’ but Merlin denied any knowledge of it. You pressed him again and then a third time, the last in a manner most challenging and certainly dangerously close to being offensive. Nonetheless all might have been defused with an appropriate apology but instead it sounded to me as if you were trying to find excuses for your impropriety.”

She listens quietly and accepts the criticisms. Finally, after a very long pause she responds.

“You are quite right and any explanations I could give would be insufficient. I am full of fear and not behaving as my duty to my father demands and I have caused difficulties for you, Ariel. I beg your pardon for them. I will remain in these chambers until such time as we are preparing to depart.”

“Yes. Another apology. The reason I was delayed in coming here was because I thought it politic to discuss matters with Archmage Prospero. Since this latest misadventure risked endangering our relationship with a powerful and influential Rimlord house, I advised him that I thought it was time we found you alternative accommodation.

“But Prospero has determined that since you are due to leave once the forthcoming funeral and wedding are complete, that you shall remain a guest of our house. I would hope that you do not prove his faith misplaced.”

Constance nods, briefly. “I will keep to myself within my chambers, if that is agreeable to you Ariel.”

Ariel nods once. “There is also the matter of your position within our Order. You made very clear your understanding of the emotional attachment between Merlin and the head of our Order. Since the mystic image he was working on will probably never be completed, we will none of us have copies with which to liaise with you. This will make your utility less valuable but Nachtherrin also puts a premium on your other talents, as an initiate of Amber’s Eidolon.

“What I am trying to say,” sighs Ariel, “is that it is up to Nachtherrin to decide whether you have a future within the Order. Therefore I urge you to broach the subject with her at the earliest opportunity, both for your sake and the Order’s. To make my own position clear, I shall advise her to let you go, but if she elects to retain you then I shall of course respect her decision and work with you in good faith.”

“I do not believe my position to be tenable within the Order, Ariel. But, as you say, it is not my decision. Is it permitted for her to visit me here? I would prefer not to leave your House until the funerals.”

“So you are asking the head of our Order to go out of her way to visit you in state?” Ariel’s tone is dry and detached, like a lawyer. “I don’t think so – while Prospero wishes to limit your contact with our house, it is not House Pheon’s business to provide you with a prison cell. Podaga will remain assigned to you and you are free to come and go as you wish.”

She nods. “Then I shall do that.”

“Is there anything else you wish to discuss?”

“No thank you, my Lord,” she responds shortly.

“Well then I shall take my leave of you.” Ariel smiles pleasantly and leaves Constance contemplating her images.