It's been a long day. Last night at dinner Martin met Arual, the Crown
Prince of Megra, whose 'rescue' by the Virgan navy had initiated the
bloodshed in the Megra royal court, and whose further rescue Gerard and
Wayland had contemplated. Arual's been a guest of the Sun Emperor for
the last six months while his kingdom languishes, and is apparently
quite obliviously happy. He was burbling about marrying one of the
Emperor's daughters, probably the cat-eyed bitch hanging off his arm all
night. It wasn't much of a conversation, and the Emperor was watching
them like a hawk all night, smiling to himself.

Then there was that stray bowshot that nobody seemed able to account for
during the lion hunt the day before, and Ryland's poisoning before that.
Virga's a real barrel of laughs, alright, Martin thinks bitterly to
himself. Oh, yeah.

He's walking back from Ryland's rooms when he feels that familiar tingle
in the back of his head. He holds it off as long as he can, at least til
he can get behind the safety of a closed door. Hugh and Thirrick's room
is just ahead. They're checking on the ships now, no one's there. No one
had better be there, he corrects himself as he closes the door behind
him.

He takes a deep breath, hand on hilt, and opens himself up to the
contact... still there.

Martin gazes back with dark, narrowed eyes. "Yes..?" he answers.

It's feminine and familiar, smelling of rose-scented soap and incense...
Niara is sitting on the edge of her walled bed, which is illuminated by
nothing more than moonlight filtered through a draperied window.

She whispers, "Hello."

Martin smiles a little, the set of his jaw and shoulders relaxing some
as he seems to lean back against the wall. "Hi," he says.

"Am I disturbing your rest?"

Martin shakes his head faintly. "No," his reply is felt, rather then
heard. "It's just been... a long few days. How're things back there?"

Niara says "For me, fairly quiet. Most others are partaking in the
festivals."

Martin's smile quirks into a faint grin. "But not you?"

"But not me, yes."

"So here we are."

"Yeah." Niara smiles a little. "May I say something that may provoke you
never to speak to me again?"

Martin returns the smile, which hazes over uncertainly. "I don't know.
Do you want to?"

"No and yes."

Martin sighs, chuckling softly. His glance darts off to one side then.
Was that someone on the balcony? "Go on," he says quietly.

Niara says "I am happy that you are well."

No, just the wind, and the shadow of a palm tree.

Martin smiles, focusing his attention back on Niara. "This sounds
serious," he smiles.

Niara chuckles.

Martin observes, "No... I don't feel the urge to close off the
coversation yet..."

"Forgive me. My mind is ... sore. As if it were a bird that had flown
into the trunk of a century tree."

"That would hurt."

"Mmn."

Martin prompts, "So..."

"The Princess Llewella invited me to tea. I _think_ her intent was to
chide me for not joining in with everyone at the festival, but I am ...
uncertain."

She adds "Quite, quite, quite uncertain."

Martin shrugs a shoulder. "It's possible."

Niara says "Mmn. I hope so. That is the only sense I could make out of
her comments about plans and purposes and potentials and acceptances of
change, and needing to change, and damaged noses ... so, how is Virga?"

Martin raises an eyebrow, and somehow forbears commenting. "Uh,
interesting place. Very friendly women. Only one case of poisoning we
know about to date, and possibly an attempt during the hunt. The
negotiations are going well, I think."

Niara smiles. "So, how many wives have you come away with?"

Martin laughs, "None, I hope. They're very nice but I get the feeling I
wouldn't be leaving this place again if I did take one."

"Likely not," Niara says, with blithe seriousness. "I imagine there are
at least four contracts out on your life." She adds "You can likely
ignore any beyond the first four."

She smiles. "But, I am probably telling you nothing that you do not
already know."

Martin 's expression sobers up a little. "I'll take that as a
compliment," he smiles, and says, not quite as quietly as before. "And
if his Imperial Majesty is half the fox I think he is, he'd be glad to
be dealing with me instead of Amber's armies again."

"You did tell him that you were the Crown Prince, yes?"

Martin shrugs, "He seems to have a collection of them here."

"These things happen."

Martin nods. "It's been a long day," he says, prompting her again.

"And you are tired, yes. I should leave you to rest."

She slips her free hand into the collar of her shift, then lower, to
pull out something small and invisible. She offers it. "I kept it warm
for you."

Martin chuckles softly, and uncurls a hand from a pocket, reaching up
for it wordlessly.

Niara tosses it with a light push of her fingers, once she opens them.

Martin snatches up something from mid-air with a grin, and peers in
carefully bewteen his fingers. "Looks good," he says to her as he slips
it into his jacket pocket.

"It's been washed a few times." Niara says "And once, pawed a bit by
Monster."

Martin smiles, "Hey..."

Niara says "Yes?"

"You sure that's all you wanted? Just to say Hi?"

Niara looks a little sheepish. "Hi is fine."

Martin considers her curiously. "If you say so."

"And, be careful."

Martin smiles, "Always. And you also."

"In some ways, I wish I could have gone with you, but ..." She chuckles,
"I will. Thank you."

Martin nods, something of tiredness in his eyes. "See you later," he
smiles.

With effort, he forces an end to the connection. He considers the number
of things they didn't say, and thinks very hard about wrapping up this
trip soon. Then he checks that there really wasn't anyone on the
balcony, and goes finds Etam, Bartello or Chaney, to sort out tomorrow's
strategies.

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5/18/98