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Towards the evening, but before the dinner meal, and when neither is otherwise occupied, Marius will call on Lucas. He has convinced himself it is a friendly thing to do, and he's kind of avoiding the other Knights after the morning's conversation ... plus, Lucas was wounded and he still had some questions about the events that perhaps would shed light on other of his endeavours. So it's a social call.

it will be a light tap on the door, and once allowance is made for his entering, Marius will approach Lucas with some caution. Not a "things might attack," kind of caution, but a, "I don't know this person very well," kind of caution.

"Greetings." He smiles. "I suppose we are cousins," he says, offering his hand.

"I suppose we are," responds Lucas, taking his hand in a rather limp grasp.

Marius, in light of Lucas' aggravated condition, doesn't press, but neither does he swish. Erm. That is to say, it is a punctuated shake, with a quick release.

"Either that, or a considerable number of people have been lying to us very convincingly, over a number of years.

"Not a possibility that I would always discard, but in this case I fancy what we've been told is accurate enough. Will you have a seat?"

"Gladly," Marius says, and he sits himself down in a dignified fashion after glancing at Ossian's drawing with a grin. "Alas, all the red hair points to a very specific pool of parentage," he says, stretching out slightly. "But that pool is deeper than Rebma, and perhaps just as twisted." He smiles, paraphrasing his mother.

Lucas watches Marius with his heavy-lidded eyes, seeming to asses his appearance.

He's wearing shades of brown, mostly auburn and russet, all very generic, very "capable of blending in no matter what the style," with a medium nature to it. If there's any handsomeness, it all comes from him and the force of his personality. The suit doesn't talk.

Ah, but Lucas would tell you that it screams. Lucas could probably name the Shadow that produced the russet waistcoat. No - he could name the hill the goat grazed on, and probably kissed the maid that carded the yarn.

Or so he would have people believe ...

Lucas himself is wearing the rather dashing cap he has designed to cover his mutilated ear, and a rich robe of softest leather, trimmed (and possibly lined) with fur.

"Might I offer you something to drink?" he asks. "I am somewhat restricted in my own choices at the moment - but that barbaric prohibition does not apply to those good enough to come to visit me."

"You may certainly offer," Marius says, with a grin and a nod.

"Then I do," says Lucas. "Although I don't pretend to have access to some of the more arcane beverages of Shadow, I have a tolerable cellar, I believe. What would you like?"

"I bow to your inestimable knowledge of the subject matter. Something light I won't regret before dinner or dreams," Marius says. He's not smiling. He watches Lucas carefully, as if looking for something, and then, whether or not he's found it, he leans back a little deeper into his chair, that persistent cheshire smile having returned.

Lucas stretches out an arm and rings the bell that stands on the table beside him. The lugubrious valet appears.

"Gaston," says Lucas, "Some whisky for my cousin. One, I think, of the peatier malts. The Laphroaig, perhaps."

The valet bows and departs. In a remarkably short-time he returns with a cut crystal tumbler, half-filled with an amber liquid that has a rich smokey smell. This he sets down next to Marius.

"I'd offer to taste it, if you like," Lucas says with a slight smile. "I believe some of my visitors think I might try to poison them.

"And waste your hospitality?" Marius asks, as if genuinely surprised. He tastes it carefully, and then nods, not sure if he agrees that Lucas' choice matches his request, but willing to try.

"I must confess," he continues, "to a certain curiosity as to people's perceptions of the evening's entertainments ... "

"That would underline the reason for my visit. We have become so many I expect the pecking order to be in doubt for a few dozen years, provided it is not settled for us. Which is to say," he grins, "that I am afraid I am not the type to make a social call." There. That settles his conscience.

"No?" says Lucas, half reclining in his chair. "But on the other hand, if you continue to visit the sick in this kind-hearted way, we may hope to civilise you yet.

"Or perhaps your visit has another motivation? I do hope you have not inhaled any of the martial vapours that seem to be sweeping Amber at this moment and have come to challenge me to a duel."

"Alas, my mother attempted to make a proper gentleman of me, and I think she succeeded... except for my lucid misogyny and devotion to duty," Marius notes, drily. His smile is in full beam mode, though, wide with white teeth showing. "But no, unless I've been misinformed, I've no reason to cross swords or words with you.

"I am afraid that my perceptions were altered by being on the fringes. I could tell you that I hope for another dance with Folly, that the Queen knows what an otter is, and that I dream strange dreams. On the other hand, I have come here to ask a question that is entirely too personal. Are you up to it?" he asks, curiously.

"Oh, I'm always up to talking about moi," says Lucas, the heavy lids drooping a little further over his eyes. "And I find it infinitely more engrossing than terpsichore with Folly, zoology with the Queen, or Jungian theories that apply to anyone other than me.

"Suspense is an entirely delicious state to find oneself in ... but do go ahead and ask your question anyway ... "

"Did it hurt?" Marius asks, with an almost savouring tone of voice.

Lucas blinks. Clearly this was not the question he was expecting - or anything like it.

Marius looks almost apologetic for a moment. "Rather, were you conscious of the pain, or was it too quick? Did you feel anything different than you...expected?"

"Ah, I see," returns Lucas, a lurking smile on his lips. "You want to know whether I have been injured or infected. An interesting question indeeed. Do I know feel the raging fires of Chaos in my blood, or am I the old Lucas, although unusually sober thanks to my nurses ... but ready to continue my life of heedless decadence ... "

He is silent for a moment, although whether he is considering his answer or consulting his memory of the events is unclear.

"I remember moving towards Cambina," he says slowly at last. "Then I remember a sudden sharp pain, like a slash from a razor, and a feeling of profound irritation. Then I was falling - I had the strangest feeling I was falling extremely slowly ...

"I had one hand on Cambina ... another lifted up in a rather foolish attempt to ward off more cards ... the sounds in the ballroon were beconming rather a roar ... blurred ...

"And then there was a smack, I felt my head hit something hard, and that was it," he says, a little more briskly. "Unconscious. No dreams, no hauntings from the Abyss, no insane and bloodthirsty urges to destroy Amber. Not yet, anyway. Gerard has, incidentally, checked me out and pronounced it a clean wound. On the other hand ... "

He considers Marius with interest. "Do tell - do you have a list of people who were wounded? Those who received blood wounds ... from the cards?"

"It might be an improper sampling, given the differences from one blood to another," Marius says, frowning. "However, I may follow that puzzle slightly longer."

"I'd be interested in learning if you discover anything," says Lucas. One long languid hand rises to touch the side of his hat. "You might say ... I take a personal interest in this matter. In return, I'll keep you appraised if I have any ... strange dreams.

"I shall endeavour to keep you appraised of anything I learn of interest in this matter," Marius agrees.

"Thank you," says Lucas. "Something - could it be my mother? - tells me that I will largely be confined to the castle and - at most - the city for the next few days at least. It occurs to me that within those limits, I could consolidate information - that might be of interest and use to us both.

"Might I make so bold as to ask - is there any special reason for your interest?"

Marius shifts slightly. "I was struck down in Chaos." He reflects briefly and shakes his head.

"Ah," says Lucas. "Yes, well, that would sharpen the interest. Might I ask - where you were struck? And how badly? Did a Chaosian weapon mingle with your blood?"

"I...believe I was struck by sourcery. I am afraid the moments have been lost to my memory." He shakes his head. "I worry that I may be changed, but I must admit, sometimes I'm worried more that I am not." He smiles.

Lucas smiles too, ruefully. "It seems we have something to be mutually concerned about, then, as we sip our brandies and muse by a glowing fire. It may be a source of strength if we can work together."

"But we are as cats, and one life lost merely leaves us slightly more cautious in our curiosity." He sips at his drink. "I am amply satisfied." He might mean Lucas' answer, or the drink.

"I am delighted to have been of service," returns Lucas piously.

"Tell me, Cousin, is there any news I could give you of what has happened in the meantime or otherwise send tidings from you before the dinner bells?"

"So far," says Lucas, "I have heard very little of the abrupt departure of Random and Martin - beyond the fact of its accomplishment. Puff! and they are gone - and Folly too. Have you heard any more than that?

"And Folly," Marius repeats. "I hope to learn more; it seemed assumed that it would happen, but the details have not been brought into my confidence." He shakes his head again. "It is not just them, I fear," he repeats the list Caine gave him. "Our Uncles Corwin, Bleys, Julian, and our Aunts Fiona and Llewella, well," he grins, "we are held strong against 5 ambitious midshipmen and a hound, but anything more," say half a dozen midshipmen, "and there's no promises given."

Lucas gives a low laugh. "What a time to be confined to my room! The opportunities for mischief seems very wide ... " More seriously he adds, "So who is seeing to security? The Knights? Or Gerard?"

"And what are you intending to do next?"

"Next? Why, dazzle all I meet with my charm and brilliance, and covet their secrets until I find the recipe for happiness or power. One or the other may suit." He grins. "Knightly business inspires me to follow a particularly warm trail." He stops and something occurs to him. "I don't suppose..." he says it aloud, "...that you knew my mother at all well?" he asks.

Lucas glances at him, and then shakes his head. "I'm afraid not. I spent most of my youth in Shadow ... and adulthood too for that matter. Shadow Earth and then ... travelling. Even during the Interregnum, Mother preferred me at a safe distance .. "

He sighs. "Believe me, cousin, I can sympathise fully with your grief, but I have to tell you that a living Amberite mother is by no means an unalloyed blessing ...

"How well did you know her? I've heard tales ... saw her a few times .... but nothing approaching a real knowledge, I'm afraid."

Marius smiles at this, maybe more warmly than nostalgically.

"If the tales are ones I haven't heard, I'm interested. Otherwise, there are days I think I knew her better than anyone, and days when I don't think I knew her at all." He shrugs. "She was ambitious, devious, and I don't know if she trusted anybody. In short, she was everything we expect from Family."

"Well, those were pretty much the tales I've heard," agrees Lucas.

Marius chuckles softly, and nods. Kind of like Lucas', "Indeed." He sips carefully through Lucas' recitation.

"Some particularly scurrilous gossip goes so far as to suggest a decidedly non-familial relationship with one of our uncles," says Lucas thoughtfully, "but that, I feel, has a strong element of wishful thinking on the part of the rumour-mongers, and probably tells us more about their mental state than that of those gossiped about."

Marius' expression is half rolling-his-eyes and half his-skin-is-crawling and he shakes his head just slightly, placing his cup back down.

Lucas looks at Marius with amused interest. "And does her son take after her? What qualities do you feel you've inherited as opposed to earned?"

Marius's expression goes somewhat blank for a moment, before it animates with a soft grin. "Her son? He is a man of many tempers, and in that, perhaps devious. While his ambitions are no longer the same, they still push him with the ferocity she shared." He smiles wider. "But he finds that trust is better when given rather than withheld," he says, raising his glass and drinking the last of it with the bit of gesture as if 'twere a toast.

"I believe I have multiple tasks to accomplish, then, before I return," he says, standing. "Please let me know if there is anything I, personally, can do to make your convalescence more comfortable," he says, smiling even more broadly. "It has been a pleasure meeting you in full, Cousin," he says with a hint of a bow.

"And you," says Lucas. "When we meet again, I trust we shall be able to share a pleasant drink, rather than my having to sit here and watch you, like a deerhound deprived of venison."

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IV: Receiving Aisling: | Index | VI: Missing Chaosians