At war's end, with the last of the troops returned at last to the city,
Martin returns also. Finally. Reluctant, heart heavy with doubt and
unpleasant certainties, blind to spring.

There's a lot of work to be done, though, fortunately, and he seizes the
excuse to remain in the city a little longer, delaying the inevitable
return to the palace and Random. Over the next few days, he sets up a
pension for the crippled veterans of both the Chaos and Virgan wars, and
for those left widowed and orphaned by them.

And during the long nights, he drinks.

Antonio is whistling a merry tune as he enters the common room of the
Crown & Anchor.

Martin sits deeply slouched in a chair by the hearth, nursing a drink.

Antonio cocks an eyebrow as he spots Martin. He alters his course and
moves towards him.

Martin raises the glass to his mouth, sips the dark amber liquid within,
sets it down again, staring absently into the small flames.

Antonio asks as he nears, "Starting early or ending late?"

A lean young man standing about 6 foot tall with blue-black hair, a
moustache, goatee, tanned skin and dark mocking eyes. He is well muscled
and his hands are covered with callouses of the sort you might expect
from a life aboard ship. He carries himself with an air of confidence
and his voice is deep and commanding with a broad Amber accent. 

He is dressed in a plain white shirt and black trousers, that have been
tucked into high, leather boots. A well-worn sabre hangs from a leather
belt on his left side. His left arm is heavily bandaged just above the
elbow.

Martin doesn't bother to look up. He glances to his drink, shrugs
lazily, returns his gaze to the fire. "Trapped in the middle, more
like," he mutters.

Antonio draws up a seat, "That bad?"

Martin's only answer is another shrug.

Antonio says "And while you drink away your sorrows the work that we
have done is quickly being pulled apart around us."

Martin quirks a brow, lifting his tired gaze towards Antonio. "Eh?"

Antonio says "Your darling little sister has acquired the king's ear and
is whispering sweetness and light. We'll be lucky if by the morrow we
are allowed to go armed in public."

Martin's eyes narrow. His voice is similarly lowered when he speaks.
"That's a bit of an exaggeration, isn't it."

Antonio smiles thinly, "Only a little.

"Random has decided that we kill one another too much and wishes to put
an end to it. This from the man that tried to kill his predecessor.
Admittedly, that was Eric, but still. It is a little hypocritical, don't
you think?"

Martin's gaze stays on Antonio a long moment. "Where did you hear this?"
he asks finally.

Antonio says "My sister. He has become quite fond of her. Intends to
have her walk the pattern at the earliest opportunity."

Martin quirks a brow, "That's what you wanted, wasn't it? Never mind
that for now," he shakes his head, leaving the matter for another time.
"What's this about Tessa?"

Antonio says "She lacks understanding."

Martin takes a deep breath, reaching for his drink again. "Random's
doing," he says taking a long draught. "Not mine."

A slim figure wrapped in black and night purple leans against the
doorsill, after slipping in.

Antonio says "But Random has his own responsibilities now that he is
King. It is up to you to fix the problem." He has his back to the door
and doesn't see the figure enter.

Martin considers his drink mutely. Then, a slow nod, "I'll deal with
her." He looks damned pissed about something.

Antonio smiles slowly.

The figure drifts toward the hearth, after more than likely noting the
sorry state of business this hour of the evening, or morning, depending
upon who doesn't get asked.

Antonio glances around as he senses the figure apporach the hearth.

Martin's gaze flicks to the figure in black and purple, and back to his
drink. The figure, however, remains in the corner of his vision.

Antonio arches his brow at the figure, his smile broadening.

Martin just takes another deep draught of his darkly amber drink, saying
nothing further.

Antonio gestures to the seat beside him.

The figure eases into it, after a couple of steps. She mutters, "I would
love to know who planted the holly hedges under my window."

Take the Mona Lisa. Make her darker and elfin boned, and substitute her
straight brown-black hair with ebony. Widen her almondine eyes. Color
them bronze, like those of some leopards. Occasionally, fleetingly,
re-draw that famous smile onto a Dionysian mouth. Give her slender,
fragile hands, impossibly tiny feet, and indolent grace that is the
stuff of scientific treatise. Shear her lustrous hair until the back is
well above the ears. Snip jagged arcs in her drooping, curling bangs.
Hood a light, slim cloak over her, sable silk watered throughout with
night purple, the sort of thing that someone might wear if they did not
want to be looked at twice in the shadows of a warm night. Put her in
similar colors and less ostentatious fabrics underneath; a long-sleeved
blouse, a weskit-vest, trim trousers, lean boots, loose gloves. Make her
smell not much different than the spring air.

Martin grins. Then notes he's fast running out of drink, and waves a
server over. "Anything..?" he asks the two sharing the hearthfire with
him.

Antonio grins at Niara, "Someone with a particularly offbeat sense of
humor, I'd guess. Would you care for a beverage?"

Martin mutters something about talking to the gardener, as a server
approaches their chairs.

Niara says "It would have to be water, unless the owners has stocked up
on certain Virgan liqueurs in light of the potential invasion that was
not." She mutters, "Owners has ... have. Bother."

Martin gives Niara an odd look, beckons the server over for a quiet
word. The server shakes his head. Martin looks to Antonio, nods to the
server and mumbles the rest of his order. The server nods once, and sets
off briskly for the kitchens.

Niara wraps her arms around herself under her cloak as she sinks deeper
into the chair.

Antonio mutters to Niara, "... expect..."

Martin considers his empty glass, eventually sets it down on a little
side table, only to pick it up again, balancing it in his hand.

Niara mutters to Antonio, "I am... Darcy... the nurses... were...
hard... waking... room.... is,... it..."

Antonio chuckles.

Martin says testily, "You know, I could just take myself over to the bar
if you two'd prefer."

From the kitchens, the server returns, bearing upon his tray a dark
bottle and a mug, the latter of which he places on a small table beside
Niara.

Antonio grins, "No need. I was just discovering how she managed to
escape her keepers. Now that I am no longer one of them I am overjoyed
at her ingenuity."

"Your breakfast will be ready shortly, sir," the server informs Antonio,
and heads back to the kitchen.

Antonio nods to the server, "Thankyou."

Niara unfolds her arms to take the mug with both hands, very carefully.
"Milk," she murmurs, a little smile flickering onto her mouth.

Martin quirks a brow at Niara. "Now what've you done?" he asks, a grin
hovering on the edge of being.

The sizzle and aroma of frying sausages and bacon wafts out into the
common room from the kitchens.

Niara says "Me? Oh, no, not me. It's that damned cat. One would think he
liked me. Or something." She brings the mug to her lips, and gives it a
little sniff, before she sips.

Martin turns a questioning glance Antonio's way.

Antonio smirks. "Random has placed her under care."

Martin comments drily "He's doing a good job of it." as he pours himself
another long drink.

Antonio says "Could you have done any better?"

Martin doesn't hesitate. "Yes."

From the kitchens, the server returns to set a steaming plate of fried
sausages and bacon and onion with herbed tomatoes and mushrooms beside
Antonio. "Your breakfast, sir," he says.

Antonio smiles, "That may come back to haunt you, cousin."

Niara's brows come together.

Martin shrugs his reply. "Everything does, good or bad. I can't tell the
difference anymore."

Antonio turns to the server and pulls a small table across in front of
him.

The server places the tray of foods on the table and quickly hurries
away.

Niara braces her elbows against the arms of her chair when she props her
mug on her left thigh.

Antonio begins to eat.

Martin sips at his glass in moody silence, contemplating the small
flames in the hearth.

Antonio says "Perhaps my sister would care to inform our cousin what his
father told her."

Niara does not look up from the fire. "Which particular thing?" she
murmurs. "The Pattern?"

Antonio says "Anything that frightened you."

Martin's glance flicks to Niara, then Antonio, back on Niara.

Niara says "Ah. For one, it seemed particularly strange to be treated as
if I was his darling daughter, in dire need of protection from
everyone."

She adds, "But him."

Antonio is seated by the hearth eating breakfast, while listening to
Niara.

Martin slouches deep in a chair by the hearth. He raises his glass to
his lips, his gaze narrowing at something one of his companions has just
said.

Gavin strolls in the door, and pauses to close it behind him.

Near the hearth, the three speak quietly. Martin's voice is cold.
"Really?" is all he says.

Niara is hunched up beneath a dark cloak, balancing a mug on her leg
with halting care.

Antonio says "How warm and comfortable."

Near the hearth, Niara nods, slowly. "It did not make sense. One would
think he would know that I would know better."

She adds "In corollary to that, he said that I would walk the Pattern as
soon as I heal. Without asking for anything in return."

Martin says "Random's a fool. Always been."

Niara says "True enough, he did inquire if I was a citizen of Virga or
Amber."

Martin turns to Antonio, "Why the big hurry?"

Antonio shrugs, "No idea. Perhaps to gain allies." He adds "Apart from
Benedict he hasn't got a lot."

Martin mutters, "No kidding."

Antonio says "Perhaps he's trying to shore up support amongst our
generation. We have been running things here for the last five years."

Gavin nods to the hearth, and its occupants, before making his way to
the bar.

Antonio says "He's chosen an unusual way to go about it though."

Gavin hails down a passing server and orders the Bayle's White from the
Bar.

The server returns with a bottle of Bayle's finest white wine and
carefully places it before Gavin.

Martin shakes is head. "This is wrong. Niara's not ready, and there's
too much else needs to be done. This smacks of desperation." He adds "Or
just plain idiocy."

Antonio smiles thinly, "I have already earned his disfavor by saving
dear Niara's life. I'll let you tell him all his faults."

Gavin pours a glass of wine, and turns to face the hearth. "Good
morning," he says.

Antonio glances around towards the bar.

By the hearth, Niara glances down into her milk. "I wondered why he
spent the better part of four hours speaking with me when ... well, I
got the impression that he was hiding from things he truly needed to do.
He insisted that it was his right to worry about me, since I'm one of
his subjects."

Antonio says aloud, "Ah hello, Gavin. Come to spy on our little meeting
for the king?"

Martin turns in his seat, following Antonio's gaze. He nods a greeting
to Gavin, seeing him there, and returns to his drink.

Keeping her voice low, Niara says "That provoked the question of
citizenship, and thus the statement about Pattern, et cetera, et al."

Gavin chuckles. "Whatever gave you that idea?"

To his companions, Martin shakes his head again. "This has to be a joke.
Who in their right minds would've appointed him... ahh," he gestures
irritably, stares at the drink in his hand, downs half of it. "Do you
want to walk the Pattern?" he demands of Niara.

Antonio says, "Well, if I were King I'd send someone to spy on us," he
flashes Gavin a grin, "Pull up a chair, come join us."

Gavin nods, and stands, carrying his wine to a chair. "I somehow doubt I
would be the King's first choice as a spy."

Antonio grins, "That's why you'd be the perfect candidate."

To Martin, Niara wipes at the milk on her upper lip with a gloved
fingertip. "I will have to, eventually."

Gavin sits down on one of the comfortable chairs around the hearth.

Martin nods to Gavin as he joins them, shifting his chair over to make
room.

Antonio nods to Niara, "I think she's ready. I can't see our elders
being any more mature than she is now."

He adds "The only reason I might wish to hold her back is so she doesn't
miss all the fun that's going to occur over the next few years as she
wanders to her heart's delight in shadow."

Martin senses Niara doesn't look at Antonio while he makes these
assertions.

In return, she senses Martin's thoughts are, well, preoccupied. And
generally black as he answers Antonio, "If you say so", his gaze on
Niara the while. "I'm more concerned with Random's apparent haste in
flinging her on it."

Antonio nods, "That is a concern, yes," he turns to Gavin and asks,
"What do you think of our new king?"

Gavin shrugs. "If half the things Eric said about him are true.." He
smirks, "He could have matured, I guess."

Martin takes another mouthful of amber liquid, lets his gaze drift over
to Gavin.

Antonio smirks, "I'm sure they're all true. From Eric's point of view,
of course. Very few agreed with them though. Myself included. It would
be better were you to stick to your own personal views rather than those
of the dead."

Martin adds, with little expression, "And be careful who you share those
views with."

Gavin says "Well then..I don't think he wants the job much. Probably out
to prove that he can do it either way, though."

Antonio says "He can always abdicate."

Niara draws her legs up into her chair, folding one calf under the other
knee, and letting that foot dangle. She sips from her mug in silence,
only letting the firelight gild a sliver of her gaze.

Gavin hmms. "That would be akin to admitting that he can't do it. That's
not something our family does often."

Antonio nods and resumes eating.

Martin says gloomily, "We can't afford to have the King desert the
Throne now. Face it, we're stuck with him."

Antonio says "We also can't afford to have a king that is weak."

Gavin nods. "Unless someone filled it quickly..and that's not likely. If
he abdicated, it'd start the whole dash for the throne all over again."

Antonio says "Things have changed since the last war for the throne.
There are new players and new alliances and most of the old players have
been removed from the board. It could be that things would go very
differently."

Martin states firmly, "There will be no more talk of abdication, or
power grabs. We have our King. Granted, he's not much, but he is the
King, and we will serve him. Amber can ill afford another crisis."

Antonio eyes Martin, "Then you can teach him what he needs to know.
You're undoubtably better qualified than he, in any case, having been
here for the last six years."

Martin's eyes narrow darkens as his gaze meets Antonio's. He looks back
to his drink, muttering sourly, "This miserable piss is better qualified
than he."

Gavin hmms. "If he's truly that lacking in qualifications, perhaps a
squabble over the throne would be better."

Martin shakes his head, "The stability of the Realm comes before all
else. We will make him a good King despite himself."

Antonio nods, "That would be better."

Gavin nods. "You make him a good ruler, and history remembers him as a
great king. Small price to pay for stability, I guess."

Martin snorts, not really listening. "And anyway, didn't you hear? The
blessed Unicorn chose him Herself. You want to work against the divine
forces of the universe?"

Antonio says "And you're probably the best one to bring him all the news
and guide him, Martin. I know you don't get along but if he continues to
react the way he does someone is likely to want to remove him. I can't
see my father tolerating him like this for too long. Bleys either for
that matter. His success may depend on you."

Martin slumps deeper into his slouch, staring at the hearthfire, saying
nothing more. Maybe not listening either.

Antonio suddenly grins, "Come on Martin. Just think of the opportunity.
How many sons get to completely fuck up their fathers?"

Gavin chuckles.

Martin manages a thin smile at that. After a time.

Gavin says "How do you think he's likely to take being taught how to be
a king by his own son, though?"

Antonio says "How would you? The trick is not to let him know."

Martin shrugs, "The same way he takes everything else: too damned
wrapped up in himself to notice. Probably. I don't know, don't care."

Niara murmurs, through a sip from her mug, "Perhaps the trick is n..."
She glances up at Antonio.

Antonio grins at Niara.

Martin mutters something about the real trick being not to give in to
the urge of beating him into a pulp first.

Gavin smirks.

Antonio chuckles.

Martin doesn't seem to find that amusing, for some reason.

Antonio says "We three will help you in your duties, of course."

Gavin hmms. "Who gets to help with the beating to a pulp part?'

Martin eyes Antonio darkly. The smile that follows is thin as a knife's
edge. "No doubt." Then, to Gavin. "No one. You get to stop me doing it."

Gavin nods. "Ah well."

Antonio says "Consider yourself stopped."

Martin says "Life's full of little disappointments."

Antonio quirks his brow, "Get used to it. If the thought hasn't
penetrated your alcohol infused brain yet, chances are you're next in
line after Random."

Martin mumbles, good-naturedly enough, "...not recognised, you preening
cock."

Niara looks over at Martin. "Do you think he will want to make Tessa his
heir?" she almost-whispers.

Gavin chuckles.

Martin chuckles, "I've got as much of a claim to the Throne as him." He
jerks a thumb at Gavin. He adds "Tessa's illegitimate as well."

Gavin nods at Martin. "For now, anyway. He'll probably try to make
friends with you, and recognize you though."

Niara says "Ah. This is right. Unlike Virga, an Amberite ruler cannot
develop the whim to declare a scion legitimate."

Antonio says "It didn't stop Eric."

Gavin nods at Antonio.

Martin shakes his head. "He and I *really* don't have a lot to say to
one another, Gavin." He gives Antonio a curious glance, then looks to
Gavin as well, "Eric had balls, though. Did what he had to." He says
quietly.

He considers his drink in thoughtful silence.

Antonio nods, "Let's finish our drinks and remove ourselves from these
premises. Time is a wasting and with your sister around that means more
of our hard work being undone."

Gavin nods.

Antonio pushes his empty plate away.

Martin mms, "In a moment. Antonio, I'd like a word with your sister."

Antonio nods, stands and leaves the comfortable chairs around the
hearth.

Gavin sips the last of his wine, sets his glass down, and stands.

Martin sets his unfinished drink down on the little table beside him,
nodding to the others as they leave. "Catch up with you in a few," he
says.

Antonio mutters somethign to gavin, and they take their conversation
towards the door.

Martin says to Niara, as he watches the others depart, "May I have a
moment?"

Niara smiles.

Martin returns the smile a little - tiredeness perhaps. "I could have
timed this better, I suppose," he begins awkwardly, presses on, "but
considering how things've been..."

Niara nods, slowly. "They've been ... well, they've been."

Martin says "Yeah, exactly." He meets Niara's gaze before he continues.
"You have a certain contract with me. I would release you from it."

Niara whispers, "Why?"

Martin studies her features a long moment. "What you have to do soon...
I don't want you to be obliged. You told me once you'd made so many
promises to so many of us." he shakes his head. "I don't want to be one
of them. What you do, do because you choose to."

He chews on his lower lip, frowning, like he isn't sure if any of what
he just said sounded coherent.

Niara takes in a breath, and releases it, watching him with gradually
widening eyes. She mumbles, "I wanted you to live. Not because I was
bound to promises..."

Martin glances away to the fire, chuckling nervously, "I'm sorry. I
think I'm a little bit drunk. But I mean it. Some of us don't get a lot
of choices. I release you from our contract. You don't owe me anything."

"Ss..sorry, alright. Fine. Accepted." She adds, "Granted. And done. Will
that be all?"

Martin looks to her, dark gaze haunted. Quietly, he says, "My word still
holds, though."

Niara sucks in her lower lip a little. "This, I have never doubted," she
whispers.

Martin swallows. "Your brother's waiting," he says. "I'll catch up
later. Have to settle up."

Niara's head moves in a shallow nod. "Yes, he is."

Martin straightens up in his seat, and with both arms, levers himself
upright.

From the door, Antonio says, "Martin, we'll meet you there."

Martin looks up, nods to Antonio. "Wait up, your sister's going, too.
I'll be along soon."

Niara unfolds herself out of her chair, and slips around it, without
looking back at Martin.

Martin reaches over for his crutch, tucks it underarm, nods to Niara as
she leaves.

Antonio nods. He opens the door and holds it for Gavin and Niara.

Niara likely does not stop to see if Gavin's in her direct path before
she makes her way toward the door, and out it.

Gavin steps out of Niara's way, allowing her through first, and then
following her out.

Martin doesn't turn to watch the others leave, busy making his way over
to the bar.

Antonio says to Martin, "Not too long, eh? I'm not sure how long I can
keep your sister from being hurt."

Martin calls back over his shoulder to Antonio absently. "I'll be
there."

He takes is time settling the account, vaguely aware that perhaps he
does not want to catch up to Niara and the rest too quickly.

Later, as he steps out onto the Vine, however, the air cold and crisp 
with that sharpness that comes after a recent shower, and the promise of
dawn lighting the east...

He squints at the distant morninglight, folds his cloak over his left
shoulder carefully so its folds fall to conceal the crutch some, and
hurries away up the zigzagging street.

He catches up with them on the Main Concourse. Of Gavin there is no
sight. Probably already back in the palace. Antonio is walking with
Niara, and speaking quietly with her. He hails his cousins, and picks up
his pace.

Niara pauses in a murmur to Antonio.

Antonio glances back towards Martin.

Martin waves, half-loping along, half-hopping, the end of the crutch
tapping along the street.

Niara turns her head.

Antonio stops and waits.

Niara does, likewise.

Several more steps, and Martin catches up to the two, puffing a little.
He grins, pushing back hair from his face, "So, what's the hold-up?"

Niara's brows lift. "Did one of us lose something?"

Antonio smirks, "A strange man with crutches kept shouting to us to
stop."

Martin continues onwards, chuckling. "I'm faster with one leg than you
are with four."

Antonio says, "There are few things I have not tried, cousin. That is
one of them."

Martin laughs, swinging ahead on his crutch. "You're too modest, cousin.
Come on! What're you two waiting back there for?"

Niara says, "The sky to stop falling upon my head. I will not speak for
my brother. Speaking of which..." She mutters to Antonio, "I should...
you... a... deep... conceal..."

Antonio nods to Niara. "That might be best."

Niara nods, once. "I will be where I am supposed to be. For now." She
breaks away from Antonio, and sets off up the Concourse.

A flight of birds pass overhead, crying softly to one another. Niara
hurries on up the Concourse, pass Martin and on to the palace ahead of
them. When she's out of sight...

Antonio says, "You seem to have upset her, cousin."

Martin raises a quirked brow to Antonio curiously. "I gave her something
I thought she wanted. Apparently not, eh."

Antonio says, "What did you give her?"

"Choice," Martin answers, turning to continue on his way.

Antonio matches your pace. "In what way though?"

Martin shrugs, "Ask her yourself. If she wants to tell you, she's free
to do so."

Antonio nods. "You're aware that she tried to kill herself three days
ago?"

Martin looks up sharply. "No," he answers slowly. "But then, I haven't
been back."

Antonio nods.

"Stupid girl," Martin mutters. "I would have killed for something like
what I just did for her."

Antonio says, "She sees the world differently. I am certain that she
feels that because she has broken her promise to me that she must now
fortfeit her life. That was the way of her clan."

Martin just shakes his head in disgust. "Sometimes I think you had the
right idea, back when she was our 'guest'."

Antonio chuckles. "We both know that that would have made our lives
poorer."

"Maybe so," Martin returns the chuckle briefly, "But right now I could
do with some of that poverty. Got enough things to worry about as is."

Antonio nods, "I don't envy your position."

"Huhn," Martin makes a small, disgusted noise. "I'd trade fathers with
you any day. Hell, I'd trade my father for a three-legged ass."

Antonio smiles wryly, "Do you think Benedict would notice?"

"Would he care, as long as the kingdom was secure?" Martin grins.

"You know him better than I." Antonio says, "He barely ever says more
than two words to me at a meeting. I think I displease him."

"I'm cold," Martin says then, instead of answering, pulling the cloak
across his shoulders. "Let's get back and find someplace cosy, eh?"

Antonio nods. "So far that makes both your father and him. Perhaps I
should steal something of Bleys' and perhaps seduce Llewella and that
will make it a full house."

Martin laughs at that as they reach the palace.

-------
04/12/98