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Gerard and Flora keep a close eye on Lucas' progress. He seems to be making a marvellously easy recovery. After the first day, he and Solace receive many visitors.
It is a week before Gerard clears Lucas to leave the castle, and after that he may travel into the city. Such visits are tiring, he finds, but the entire business of being injured is vexatious and that his first efforts at business in the city are exhausting is no surprise. The first night, he finds himself too tired to return to the Castle and must avail himself of the comforts of his home away from home, Red Mill.
Lucas dispatches a message to the Castle so Solace will not worry (and, more importantly, so his mother and Gerard won't send out searching parties), and repairs to the Red Mill. His weariness is not particularly noticeable as he saunters through the doors, bestows casual kisses on a couple of delighted denizens (young, female and comely). Then, as he strips his gloves off, he glances around for cousins and, more significantly, Silken.
He stops for a word with the club porter.
"Any family in tonight?" he asks. "And tell Bitter I'll be wanting to dine in a little while. Something piquant, I fancy, although the woodcock in redcurrant and bitter chocolate sauce may not be quite the thing, delicious though it undeniably is."
The arrangements are made. No family members are in, but that's unsurprising, given that the other regular is out of the city, and it's not clear whether the King plans to take his membership up again.
He makes his easy way to the Salle.
Silken finds him there, with a glass of his favourite already in hand.
Lucas smiles.
"You'll join me for dinner?" he asks. "It will give you the opportunity to make all those solicitous enquiries after my health that I see hovering around those very beautiful lips, and only being currently suppressed with a heart-palpitating effort.
"And I shall, in response, tell you of my death-defying encounter with a playing card. You know, Silken, on the whole, I think we might play scrabble tonight."
Silken gives Lucas a predatory smile. "I can beat you at cards, dice, or scrabble, as well you know, my dear. But do take this fortifying beverage first."
Lucas raises an eyebrow and directs a look at her.
"The only fortifying beverage I require from you, my beautiful Silken, is nectar of a rather different kind. And that will taste better as a digestif than an aperitif this evening, I believe."
"Had I known you were coming, I would have had some champagne ready. Of course, that might be an unpleasant reminder for some of your cousins too, from what I've heard."
"And so we limit our pleasures," sighs Lucas. "Playing cards ... champagne ... what will we choose as a method of destruction next, I wonder? Beaten to death with opium pipes?"
"Better bored to death with one of Heap's chapbooks," Silken says with a secret smile.
"If we are to foreswear all this because of the recent unfortunate events, our pleasures will become good hearty country walks and pints of honest ale consumed in cheery wayside taverns." He gives a little shiver. "Or some absurd game where the possession and position of some spherical piece of leather is held to be of quite breathtaking importance. And really, the spirit does quail a little at such a prospect."
She leads Lucas into a secluded booth, and tells the waiter that they'll want to enjoy their drinks before the chef prepares dinner for them.
"A martini," Lucas says to the waiter. "Ah ... just bring the triple distilled vodka, the ice and the olives. Silken will breathe the word 'vermouth' over the glass, and all will be perfection."
"So," she says, "I see the stories that have you half-dead are untrue. You remain yourself, and determined to set a new trend. And full of the most delicious gossip, I'm sure."
"I do not have to determine to set a new trend," says Lucas loftily. "One is simply moi, and the trend follows meekly in one's footsteps. As for gossip - your pauvre Lucas has been starved, positively starved this last week. A cruel reducing diet, Silken, that has me panting to hear all those delicious tit-bits I am utterly sure you have hoarded for me."
Indeed, Silken has more than a few choice morsels of gossip. Hardwinds and Harga'rels, leClaires and Laurels, Worths and Wonders, and more. Silken's scathing wit makes light of many of Amber's most noted citizens. As well, she has news of goings-on at Red Mill, including word of a recent meeting of the board of the club wondering what the King's position will be on the club decrees of the Regency.
And, of course, Violet is asking after Martin, since the rumour is that he took a wound during the Masquerade. This last is said with an amused shake of the head, as if Silken can't quite believe what's gotten into the other woman.
"It is most affecting," drawls Lucas, "to hear of such affection. Loyalty is so rarely to be encountered ...
"You can tell her that Martin is away from Amber at present, but will indubitably return in the near future. I believe he has a somewhat pressing engagement."
Silken's lips twitch with amusement as she nods at Lucas.
"As for the King's position ... well, we shall just have to wait and see. I would not be too hopeful, Silken. There's no ruler so strict as a reformed rake. And the worse the rake ... the fiercer the striving for sanctity."
He takes a leisurely sip of his martini.
"You had better hope that I never reform myself." he tells her, smiling faintly.
"The Red Mill would never survive such a fashion for reform," Silken opines. "The reform of the king, we might hope to survive that. But the trend for sobriety that you would surely set, my dear Lucas, would be the death of us all. I should have to turn to legitimate business, and then where would I be?"
"Undoubtedly the wealthiest and most powerful woman in Amber," says Lucas unhesitatingly. "You have talents, Silken, that have little to do with your undeniable physical charms. You have a brain and wits as sharp as your wit, the skill to manipulate, and the talent to let your manipulation stay hidden. You would succeed in any profession you turned those lovely elegant hands to - to say nothing of that peerless mind. And under it all is the naked ambition to excel."
He looks around the room, smiling faintly, his eyes half-closed.
"The rest ... their chances would be variable. But you, Silken ... you would be glorious.
"Why else would I choose you for my mistress?"
"Because you cannot have me for your wife."
Lucas' smile is his most lizard-like.
Silken considers the other ladies in the room. "Of course, I suppose that your cousin Paige's efforts at married women's property reforms might make marriage a tad less unattractive. Unless you think the new King's reformed tone will usher in an era of female propriety such that any woman of business would be mistaken for one in mine."
"I think that ... less likely," says Lucas. "I would not go so far as to put it as 'unlikely' - in this, you see, I hedge my bets. But ... yes, definitely less likely. So many strong-minded women in the family now - and so many have risen to positions of importance - among the Stayers, and the Warriors. It might be a little harder to cram them all back in the box.
"As for the lower levels of society ... " His dark eyes meet Silken's mockingly. "Women have always ruled there, don't you think?"
"Clever people have always ruled, regardless of their sex," says Silken, She shifts a little in her chair, catlike.
"Now ... shall we see what gastronomic delights Bitter has prepared? We really need to bring a new ingredient into fashion - remember how we positively exhausted the market for cranberries last autumn? Not that there was much of a market then ...
"I think ... herbs. Or perhaps a spice. Something with a suitably mellifluous name, and a delicate, subtle flavour, to be enjoyed only by the cognoscenti. Cardamom? The name pleases ... the flavour less so. Nutmeg? A wholly delightful spice ... but the name is so full in the mouth, it almost feels you held one of those hard little balls. Nut ... meg. No ... perhaps it should be cinnamon ... but cinnamon has been done to death. La, the trials of fashion. For assuredly there is a fashion in all things, my lovely Silken, even duelling."
The dark eyes regard her impassively. "Perhaps ... especially duelling."
"What is the new fashion in duelling to be, then? The rumours that reach us of events in the Castle suggest that the Heir Presumptive intends it to be the done thing." Silken's gaze meets Lucas, and she smiles, ever-so-slightly.
The faint smile Lucas gives her in return is just lightly edged.
"And has his princely example inspired many imitations yet? Or are they all waiting with bated breath to see the outcome of this delectable little contretemps? And what state is the betting book in on who wins, who loses, who's up and who's down?"
"Most people know better than to trifle in Royal affairs, my dear Lucas. The odds are considered to be highly in his young highness' favour, if only because so many people have seen Prince Martin put haughty fellows who like to say their mistresses are prettier than Violet in their place. There have been a few duels between Returnees and Stayers so far."
"A state of affairs," says Lucas dryly, "that doubtless all right-minded citizens would wish to see continue."
She takes up her own martini glass and looks at Lucas over its rim, her long-fringed eyelashes demurely hiding the wicked gleam in her eye. "It could get a lot worse."
"And does that lend a certain piquancy to the thought of an engagement?" drawls Lucas. "Or does it rather create a sense of ennui among the clientele who frequent these hallowed halls?
"If, for some reason, the populace were deprived of their bread and circuses this time, would they be all the more eager for the next prospect of bloodletting? Or do they, worthy citizens all, hope piously that we will all learn to live together in peace and harmony?"
"That depends on when you ask, and who asks them," Silken says archly. "There are those who stand to profit by harmony, and they hope for it fervently. Some young men who missed the call to go to war are anxious to prove their honour; the new King's appreciation for the Returnees has not gone unnoticed. There is a certain resentment in some quarters. The expected thrashing of the foreign knight is much anticipated."
She takes a sip of her drink. "Most of those who anticipate it will shrug and move onwards if their pleasure is denied them. There are those who will find a different outlet." She leans forward and whispers, "Is the Queen thinking of forbidding the duel?"
"Alas," says Lucas, "I am only able to offer my delicate little slivers of advice. It is for the Queen to choose whether or not to nibble at them."
"But the Queen is your friend," says Silken, neutrally enough that Lucas could take it any number of ways. Jealousy, it should be noted, is not reasonably among them.
"Personally, I would be of the camp to favour the duel going ahead - within certain strict limitations. Honour should be satisfied in such matters. Bloodlust ... I think not. Feed the populace with the raw meat it roars for, and very soon it will hunger again. Train the beast to eat broth - and you may sleep in peace for a good many nights.
"I am interested," he says slowly, "in how you judge the temper of the beast now ... especially these malcontents you spoke of."
"I think they are a small group, but they keenly feel what they feel to be the subtle slights attending on them for not having gone to the wars. You know the hardships people in Amber have suffered these last few years as well as anyone. Suddenly these swaggering fellows come in with five years' pay when everyone else has been watching their pennies, and it's hard for people who've been scrimping to smile at their good fortune."
Silken leans forward again. "It's not so bad here, but in the Naval, where the Returnees and the Stayers are crammed up against each other, it's very awkward."
"And what is true in the Navy will also be true in the docks." says Lucas thoughtfully. "Once group of men with enough money to pay the whores, and another group who've had to go without all but the most pox ridden for several years forced to watch. And the same for taverns ... even a distinction between the family men; this one wealthy, this one reduced to poverty - and yet both serving Amber.
"Of course, the money will trickle through the system eventually as the Returnees spend and the Stayers produce. But that, of course, is not apparent to the man who must forgo his whore and his beer tonight, and still less to the family man who sees his children drink weak broth again while the smell of roasting pork drifts over from his neighbours house. And the neighbour looks at the man's two good arms and two good legs, and does not notice or care about the rags they are clad in...
"So ... what cure for Amber's ills do you see, Silken? Circuses, as well as bread? Like the duel as a lancet to a particularly unpleasant boil? Perhaps that is what we need - safety valves... "
Silken has been nodding throughout Lucas' recitation. "It's going to be rough sailing for a while," she agrees.
"The best cure would have been for the King not to pay his men for five years' service. But that's nothing you can influence or amend. As for where we go from here, I'm less sure," she confesses. "Redistribution will happen, and the clever will end up with all the money, as usual, but it may take longer this time. I think the surest bet is to reopen trade as quickly as possible, and get some of the poor out there earning. Do you see that happening soon?"
"Not without some private investment," says Lucas thoughtfully. "I've never thought of economic regeneration as my metier, but a programme of large-scale public works, or works undertaken in the public interest, would actually start to relieve some of the problems. The construction industry and allied trades would actually absorb a lot of energy, and would pay wages ...
"Silken - ignoring the Castle, what would you say were the most prominent public buildings destroyed in the Sundering? I mean buildings that the general populace would most like to see replaced? And that haven't been yet?"
Silken considers the question. "Most of the ones that haven't been replaced haven't really needed replacing. Some of the trading floors will eventually need to be rebuilt, but they're not public per se. I'd think replacing them would be a matter for the trading concerns, the ones that survive, or are built up with this new money from the Returnees--oh." She pauses to follow that line of thought.
Lucas watches, drinking his martini, with some amusement and much interest as Silken follows this line of thought.
When he judges she has had long enough, he says, over the rim of the glass, "Well?"
"It's a stopgap, Lucas, nothing more. It'll feed people, but they'll still resent being paid by the Returnees. Perhaps it will buy enough time to lay down some new trade routes, but that's all. I can't understand what the King meant by offering the Returnees five years' pay. It's almost as if he wanted them to be flush, and didn't care what it did to the city." Silken sounds disgruntled and a little confused. It's a novel experience for her, and one she doesn't seem to care for.
"It may be that he wanted to honour those who fought with him. 'We few, we happy few, we band of brothers'. That sort of thing.
"And certainly those who were abed in Amber now do think themselves accursed they were not there," he adds drily. "They may not envy the glory, but they certainly miss the hard coin."
A sip of her drink, and she composes her face. "It's better than any other plan I've heard so far. In fact, it's the only sign I've heard so far that the castle has noticed the problem."
"Actually," says Lucas, "I was thinking of avoiding anything so crude as the Returnees paying the Stayers. I agree that would lead to resentment as a straight exhange. What I had in mind, initially, was something more in the nature of a joint stock company. Only with a slight twist.
"Those who can, invest cash. Those who can't, invest labour. Not all their labour, of course - otherwise they'd be working for no pay - which would help no-one. But one day's free labour a week would secure them stock - an investment for the future. And Returnees could invest their cash in stock - can feed in other benefits ... short term ... and also build in - for want of a better word - pleasure ... "
He is frowning.
"Perhaps," he says, "an arena. More - a stadium. For ... events. Jousts. Music. Large enough to be a major public work. Stockholders - have seats - as well as sharing the profits - that should draw more investors on both sides."
He looks at her. "This is, of course, largely speculative. But - among other peerless talents, you are an excellent sounding board. What do you think?"
"The plan is sound, at least as far as it goes. Amber was built on trade, and until trade resume, she'll be poor. Stock companies for public buildings won't change that, and we both know it." The courtesan leans in, and beckons to Lucas to do the same.
In a voice barely above a whisper, she says, "My other objection comes from inside information. Violet said Martin talked to her the night before he left. He's been planning to buy out her contract and get her a townhouse. He said that there had been a slight change of plans when he spoke to her just before the coronation, though. His father, Martin said, had told him not to buy any real estate just yet."
Silken looks significantly at Lucas. "Now what do you think the king might have meant by that?"
"Any number of things," says Lucas, his voice also very soft, "from moving the capital to another location, to introducing a series of swingeing land reforms designed to outlaw property speculation. In the absence of Random, we could take a number of guesses ...
"And I wouldn't exclude the possibility that Martin has changed his mind ..."
Silken looks vaguely disappointed by that thought, but doesn't comment on it.
"But none of them will be an answer to the problems we face here - and now. Something needs to be started to keep the population from tearing each other's throats out while Random decides whether he is going to move his political position somewhere to the right of 'Whopee!'
"Although, in the light of what you say, it might be worth thinking about short term leases. With the option to buy at a later date ..."
"I'm not sure how that would work for a massive construction project. But a small project to start, with a short-term lease--a test bed, let's say--that might work. And it wouldn't seem as likely that you had inside information, if it proves out that Martin was playing straight with Violet. It would merely be the prudent investment of a wise prince." Silken gives a pleased smile, having found a satisfactory answer.
"A small project," says Lucas. "Something that will be popular ... will amuse the masses and serve the public good ... a public baths, perhaps. Something of that nature. A combination of sport, recreation and hygeine for those who lack even basic facilities ... "
He leans back in his chair and takes a long, thoughtful sip of his martini.
"I seem to recall hearing some talk about another construction job. One of my cousins. I'll need to ask around ... "
His eyes suddenly focus on Silken, sitting opposite.
"Silken, do you want to be bought out of your contract?"
Lucas does not often surprise Silken, but it seems that he has this time. She looks down into her drink, and says, "I hadn't really thought about it," which Lucas feels is a white lie.
Lucas is silent, waiting to see if she will add any more. For all his easy conversation, he is fully aware that silence can sometimes be more probing than any three questions ...
Silken looks over the rim of her drink glass at Lucas, and the moment stretches on. Just as the silence seems to be unbearable, she finally says, "I want to buy out my own contract."
Lucas simply nods, fully appreciating the difference.
"And should my part simply be to act as a paying customer?" he asks. "Or would you appreciate business opportunities in different contexts being put your way? That might speed up the process - and provide you with something to support you ... afterwards.
"Unless, of course, your ambition is to be a kept woman," he adds. "But somehow - I don't think your desire is to go from one contract to a more exclusive one of the same kind.
"Or is it?"
"Not even with you, Lucas," Silken says, with a somewhat apologetic smile. "And I don't want the deal that Michelle got with your cousin Paige, either. I want out. I want to be able to pick and choose whether I have a lover, not just who he is."
"Very flattering to my amour propre," says Lucas drily. "Don't you think you ought to be fawning a little more on your best paying customer - the one who is offering to help you to achieve the financial independence you desire?"
It's possible that Lucas is speaking ironically here. He's half-French, after all, and has few illusions about the nature of sexual transactions between men and women. He stopped believing in the whore with a heart of gold very shortly after he lost faith in Saint Nicholas (i.e. Santa Claus).
"No, I think we know each other well enough that you'd prefer me to be honest." Silken assesses Lucas through her lashes, and begins to stir her drink languidly with her finger.
"Don't overplay that hand, Silken," says Lucas. "To flatter me by declaring we are honest with each other is only two rungs down from calling me 'big boy' and telling me that I make the earth move in ways that no-one else can."
Silken looks a touch petulant, but recovers immediately.
Lucas reaches out and takes her hand.
"I prefer honesty, Silken. "But we are lovers and - moreover - we are who we are and must be. Completely honesty ... is perhaps a little beyond us."
"What kinds of business opportunities did you have in mind?" The finger, still damp with the traces of her own martini, comes up and touches the centre of her lower lip. She daintily licks the errant drop off her own fingertip as she waits for Lucas' answer.
"Financial management," says Lucas promptly. "The ability to move money around rapidly to areas where it's needed. The more prudent of the returnees will need to invest. The more entrepreneurial of all the population will want to start up businesses. You, my sweet, are in an excellent position to know who has money and who has need. Who has ideas and who has capital. You bring the two together - and charge a commission.
"You also have what makes you a certain success - the shrewdness to know who is reliable, and who is not. And the spirit to take risks when needed.
"You may need a front man to do the job, at least at first. I'll help seed the enterprise - and offer advice.
"Of course, if this strikes you as dull, an alternative would be to open a beauty parlour. After the long years of deprivation, I'm sure most women in Amber would pay handsomely to look as lovely as you invariably do - even if they do pretend to disapprove of your lifestyle. The same offer from me is open - and I take care of the interior design too."
"I've had enough of women chattering about their looks to last me a lifetime, Lucas dear. Thank you, but the financial management sounds infinitely preferable. Besides, I need to keep some secrets if I want to keep my favourite gentlemen coming back."
Silken's finger dips back into her martini. This time, she lifts it to Lucas' lips.
Lucas leans forward and takes the finger in his mouth. For a long second his tongue caresses it, stroking along the length, his mouth sliding forward, taking it deeper ...
And then he gives a sharp nip to her finger and abruptly withdraws.
"Don't take me for granted, Silken. I'll help you ... but there will inevitably be a price to pay. Let's discuss it over dinner ... or better yet, in the privacy of your rooms."
Silken examines her finger, making sure Lucas has drawn no blood, before she looks up at him. "Oh, Lucas," she says with a bitterly amused smile, "there's nothing in life that comes without price. If you like, I'll tell Bitter to send dinner up for us."
Lucas nods.
"That, I think, will be best. I feel the need to dine en deshabille, reclining on a couch as we eat languidly and talk busily ....
"I also expect commiserations over my injuries. Let me warn you now, my most beautiful Silken ... too much honesty on that subject would be remiss."
"You've reminded me of the limits of my honesty, Lucas." She bows her head, and by the time he can see her face full on, Silken's expression is composed completely. "I won't forget the lesson."
And she takes Lucas' hand and leads him up to her chamber.
A couple of days after Lucas's evening with Silken in the Red Mill, she receives a package borne by a tall, mournful-faced man.
There is also a note in Lucas's hand.
"My Darling Silken,
This is a little token of my esteem for you - and a thank you from your grateful Lucas for the splendid time I had the other night. Ma chere - such a relief to fly from the castle. I devoutly trust your arms will be similarly open to me in the future when ennui besets me."
'This' proves to be a pendant set with diamonds.
"I think you will look delightful in this," the note continues. "If, however, you prefer the hard cash, I recommend the following merchant's where the whisper of my name should secure a reasonable rate of return. If it doesn't - tell me."
There follow a list of three names.
"The bearer of this note is Pennywise who will prove, I think, an excellent front man for your activities. His services are engaged for six months - and he has undertaken to hire suitable premises for a similar time. This I shall fund. Thereafter, I confidently expect you to be in a position to finance yourself. I will, nevertheless, be paying you a retainer to watch out for business opportunities for me.
Love and kisses,
Lucas"
Lucas receives a reply:
Mon cher Lucas,
Thank you for the lovely pendant. As always, you know me almost better than I know myself. The pendant is lovely, and I will think of you when I wear it.
Pennywise and I shall get on excellently. He will be keeping you posted on my progress, but I look forward to discussing it all in intimate detail when next we meet.
Yours, as always,
Silken
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IX: Duties and Diversions | Index | XI: Encounter on the Rooftops
