After meeting with the Duke of Trevelor in Begma, Martin hears that a
certain Lord Admiral of Amber may still be in town, and elects to go for
a walk in this fine city.

Steady light radiates over the square from the orbs set in the walls of
the surrounding architecture. The beams focus down on the walkways and
fall short of the famed Fountain of Trevelys.

Glowing with its own light, the three-tiered fountain rises up to a
height some three times that of a man. The grey stone lips of each pool
let the water pour down to the next, till in the base, it gurgles and
drains away.

Gathered around the Fountain are several open air cafes. Antonio sits at
a table near one, quite obvious to any that enter the square, quietly
sipping his coffee as he watches people pass by.

A group of young men enter the square along one of the broad streets. By
their manner and dress, and the fact that they are armed, they're likely
Amberite nobles. At their head is a familair figure, fair-haired and
slight, dressed in browns and golds, a hand resting warily on the hilt
of his saber.

Antonio's gaze eventually settles upon the group of men. He neither
attracts attention to himself nor hides, just watches them while he
cradles his cup of coffee in his hands.

Martin's followers glance round the square, an air of casual alertness
about them, as Martin strolls along the open cafes, conversing with one
of his men.

A faint smirk creeps along the edge of Antonio's mouth as he watches the
alertness of the group. He continues to watch them, sipping from his cup
every now and again.

At length, Martin's perambulations take him to a cafe, much like any of
the others, but where a dark-haired man sits sipping his coffee at a
little outdoors table. With a nod, he dismisses the courtier he was
speaking with, who rejoins the rest, and they break up into smaller
groups, fanning out a discreet distance.

Antonio places his cup upon the table as Martin approaches.

Martin's steps take him to Antonio's table, and he helps himself to the
other chair there. "Fancy meeting you here," he says, sitting.

Antonio smiles, leaning back in his chair, "Nothing fancy about it.
Expecting an invasion?" he asks gesturing faintly to the assembled mass
of well-armed men that glare cautiously about them.

He's 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 silver cutlass hangs from a leather
belt on his left side, its pommel topped by a large ruby. 

Martin makes a face as he waves over a server. "We've just come from
Virga," he says in a tone that suggests that should explain the armed
followers.

Antonio says, "That bad?"

"Whatever he's having," Martin says absently to the server, before
turning back to Antonio. "Almost lost two men there," he shrugs.

Antonio nods sagely, fingering the handle on his cup.

"One of them was an idiot," Martin concedes, letting out a long breath.
"But the other... mm. That one was a warning."

Antonio says, "What happened?"

"He..." Martin starts to say, and quiets as the server returns with his
coffee. He waits, continues, "His name was Kennard. Some kid from around
here, actually. Came to Amber seeking his fortune, you know the type.
Nothing remarkable about him except in the dark, or from a distance, he
bore a passing resemblance to me." He gives Antonio a meaningful glance.

Antonio gives Martin a knowing nod.

"Similiar build, height, hair," Martin lifts his cup, blows on the
surface of the dark brew. "All he needed was the clothes. He had the
master's cabin, of course."

A lone passerby walks through the southern portion of the square, head
bowed, cloaked and quiet.

Antonio nods.

"After we reached Virga's waters, we had to wait a day out in the harbor
before they were... prepared to recieve us. We sailed into port at noon,
and found him dead in his cabin. No signs of violence or struggle, just
dead. We guessed poison, but it had to be something we didn't know
about. Broad daylight, too, which means they had to know it wasn't me."
He shrugs, sips his coffee. "Mm, good stuff, this."

"Probably some of the guys Niara told me about." Antonio says, "What
about the second attempt?"

"Probably," Martin sets his cup down with a sigh. "Oh, that was Ryland.
Idiot had a case of food poisoning. That's the official story." His tone
suggests he'd rather just leave it there.

Antonio smirks, "You should choose your toadies more carefully."

Martin's smile is grim, and tired. "They're not toadies, that's why I've
got them."

Antonio nods sagely, grinning, "Ahh."

"Hey," Martin says off-handedly. "D'you remember the Megra thing? How
Gerard thought about having the fool Prince rescued? Remember him?"

Antonio nods, "Wayland was supposed to be handling it."

"Well, the kid's still there," Martin sips his coffee again. "Had dinner
with him. Chatted. One fucking Crown Prince to another." The distaste in
his expression has little to do with the bitterness of his drink.
"Settled in quite happily, too. Getting married."

Antonio chuckles, "Let me guess. Nice Virgan girl?"

Martin quirks a brow in mock surprise. "Now how did you know that?"

The fountain murmurs peacefully, as the sprays quiet down to near
dribbles.

Antonio grins, "Must be the coffee."

"Must be," Martin smiles. "Enough about my amazing adventures. How's
Amber?"

Antonio raises his cup and sips from it.

"Still there." he answers eventually.

Martin regards his cousin over the rim of his cup as he drinks. "That
bad, eh?" he smiles.

Antonio shrugs, "Depends on how you view things."

Martin shrugs again, drinks.

Antonio says, "How is being heir settling upon your shoulders?"

Martin lifts a brow, curious, goes back to drinking his coffee. "Well,
gee, I don't really know," he answers. "I just haven't had time to
notice. It's *so* exciting being marked out as the prize target
every-frigging-where I go."

"Get used to it. It goes with the territory."

"And how many Crown fucking Princes of Amber do you know of?" Martin
almost snaps back. "The territory's unchartered, and for good reason."

"Oberon had nine that I know of."

Martin hehs, slowly. "He didn't paint a bull'e eye on their heads and
said 'Shoot Here' though."

"He didn't need to. I take it from your reaction that you're less than
amused by the situation. What if that were to change...in your favor?"
Antonio sips his coffee, watching Martin.

The mist in the square becomes thicker, heavily filling the lungs, humid
and almost stifling. Yet there is something heady to it too...

"Truth be told, I'm very amused by the situation," Martin sips his
coffee. "I just haven't found it in me to laugh about it yet." A pause
as he sips again. "What are you talking about?"

Antonio says, "Are you ready to be king?"

In the silence that follows, Martin merely regards Antonio, his gaze
narrowing just so. Then, quietly, so the words don't carry further than
the man across from him, "explain."

Antonio says, "The question is a simple one. It has but two answers: yes
or no."

"And what is my answer to you?" Martin raises the cup to his lips to
drink.

Antonio says, "The future."

Martin doesn't answer, eyeing his cousin. "I am my King's subject," he
replies carefully after some time. "My first duty is to defend and serve
his Realm, and I will do whatever is neccessary in the pursuit of that
duty."

Antonio seems less than impressed, "How very politic. I'm sure Bleys
will be most amused by that response as he sticks his knife between your
ribs and steals your throne."

"*My* throne?" Martin smiles thinly. "You seem to have already deposed
one King and chosen another."

Antonio says, "Do you expect Bleys to hit you first?"

"Remove the heir, and then the King," Martin seems to muse. "Why not?"

Antonio says, "Too many complications. Random would never successfully
name Tessa as heir. That leaves offing him and then removing you before
you can be crowned. Bleys' close relationship with your sister would
then allow him to ascend to the throne himself. After Caine he is the
next of our elders in the line of succession."

The fountain gurgles more noisily, as the sprays increase in strength,
and glimmer high in the sky.

"After Caine, of course," Martin repeats, casually.

"He has little support amongst his siblings."

"And you're saying Bleys does?" Martin cocks a brow.

Antonio says, "Considerable. More when Fiona returns."

"So there've been no more triumphal returns from Chaos?" Martin asks
eventually, as he studies the remains of his coffee.

Antonio shakes his head, "Not when I left."

"And when was that?"

Antonio says, "Five days."

Martin nods once, his brow lightly creased in a frown. "Bleys will never
have the Throne," he states then in a voice quiet with conviction.

Antonio says, "You might wish to make that clear to him, and perhaps the
others, then."

"My position in Amber is less than secure," Martin observes with a dry
chuckle, finishing his cup. "What makes you think anyone is going to
heed anything I have to say?"

Antonio smirks, "It's not secure because you let them push you around.
Call their bluff."

A group of figures in hoods pass through the area, slowly.

Martin doesn't immediately respond. "Wrong," he says, but does not
elaborate further.

Antonio shrugs and sips his coffee. "Your choice," he says.

"Wrong again," Martin laughs, short and humorless, as he sets the
emptied cup down on the table.

Antonio shakes his head, "No. There you are wrong. Fail to carve out
your own destiny and you'll get short-changed."

"And you are suggesting, what? That I usurp my father's Throne? Plunge
Amber back into civil war?" Martin says, levelly enough. "Is that what
you think should be my destiny?"

Antonio says, "That is for you to decide, Martin."

"Then understand this: I will not permit anyone to threaten the
stability Amber has now," Martin replies. "That includes dear Uncle
Bleys, you, Dad... *Anyone*. I will do whatever lies within my power,
whatever is necessary, to prevent the fall of Amber. Is that answer
clear enough to you?"

Antonio says, "Then leave this place and head home now. You may not have
a home to return to should you leave it much longer."

"If you feel I'm needed there, perhaps you should consider filling me in
on the situation there," Martin answers drily. "As it was when you left
it, five days ago."

"Bleys is continuing to make his moves upon Tessa," he replies, "There
are rumors that Random has taken a mistress... He counts them off on his
fingers.

Martin quirks a brow at the latter news.

The wind blows more strongly through the square, and the mist becomes
less thick.

Antonio's gaze flicks to you, "The girl whose father died during the war
that Random consoled at the last open court. Benedict is up to
something. Llewella has been busy setting up tea parties and ordering
spies to follow just about everyone, including me. Mira and Hal are
still away. Niara is busy with her studies and Wayland is still eluding
us."

Martin mms, and says very quietly, "I don't know about the rest of it. I
think Random's planning on moving against Virga." He adds, "Not sure
about that exactly. But I know he's changed his attitude towards Virga
very recently. Don't know whose doing that is, though."

Antonio says, "He certainly hasn't told his admiral about it."

"His admiral seems to be trying out the local coffee in Begma," Martin
comments. "You are still the Admiral, right?" he asks.

Antonio says, "His admiral is encouraging ties with Begma, so that
incidents where the Virgan fleet is able to get through to Amber
unharrassed is prevented."

"All very laudable, I'm sure," Martin drums fingers on the table-top,
considering his empty cup. "Random suddenly wants trade sanctions
imposed on Virga."

Antonio says, "Good for him. It will never happen."

Martin nods, signalling the server to bring him another cup. "I know."

Antonio says, "Did you bother telling him this or do you intend to let
/your/ king figure this out for himself?"

Martin smiles, with very little humor. "If he persists, it's against my
recommendation."

Antonio says, "And you don't let yourself get pushed around. No, not at
all." He sips his coffee.

"It's having the foundations ripped out from under my feet all the time
that's making it look I'm being pushed around," Martin replies after the
server brings him a fresh cup.

"Build better foundations."

"You offering to help?" Martin asks with a half a smile.

Antonio grins, "I guess I am."

Martin hehs, blowing on his coffee. "Why?"

Antonio says, "Does it matter?"

"I gave you my answer," Martin says, sipping his brew. "Let's hear
yours."

Antonio shrugs, "If you demand such things from those that wish to help
you then is it any wonder your foundations are so rocky." He quickly
drains the remainder of his coffee.

"It's simple question, cousin," Martin observes, sipping his coffee.
"It's not like I'm asking if you have any plans to see the current King
off his Throne."

Antonio smiles and stands, "A free piece of advice. Marry Niara. Nobody
will dare move against Caine's daughter," he says before tossing a
handful of Begman coins upon the table and walking away.

Martin chuckles quietly, after a surprised moment. "See you in Amber,"
he calls cheerfully after his cousin then.

Antonio answers without turning, "You presume, cousin."

"I didn't say when," Martin returns, without looking up from his coffee.

The dark-haired man continues towards the port. If he said anything
further it never reached the ears of the sandy-haired man. Soon he
disappeared down one of the side streets and was gone.

-------
5/21/98