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Solange replaces Lucas's trump in her deck.
She organizes the men and leads them forward in the direction Lucas, Kyril, and Tallow took. She emphasizes to them to look at ease, look friendly, and not look for trouble.
While the men are doing all of those kinds of looking, Solange looks for Kyril and Tallow.
Solange and her three men walk out into the fields. After a short stretch, she comes across Kyril and Tallow with a third man. "Hey, Solly. This is Brother Pestle. He's from Amber." The man bows.
Solange slips her hand into Kyril's in greeting, then nods back to Brother Pestle. "My name is Solange, and these men are Cross, Oboe, and Birch. We're pleased to make your acquaintance," she says, smiling. "Did Kyril and Tallow mention to you that we've been shipwrecked?"
"Yes, that's how we arrived here, too! Elder Germaine said that we must have hit one of the natural rifts between worlds, because the planned routes all didn't work. But he listened to those who spoke to him, and they led him here, to our home."
"Those who spoke to him?" Solange asks, curious.
He nods. 'Yes, the spirits."
He looks at her and then at the sailors. "Kyril said you didn't need any medical help.
Solange glances at Kyril's bandaged head but says nothing.
I'm sure Elder Germaine will invite you to stay for the evening, and then you can take the road to Altasirim, where the trade ships stop."
She nods. "We'd be grateful for the hospitality, thank you."
He looks back towards the forest. "How are things in Amber? It's been a while since we left."
"King Oberon's children returned from war. The king himself died in the war and his youngest son Random succeeded him. King Random has since settled in a land some distance from Amber called Xanadu. Many people from Amber are relocating to Xanadu and Amber is... is not the glory that she once was."
Solange frowns as she listens to herself, it suddenly hitting her that the beautiful eternal city she spent her childhood in was gone, really gone.
She pauses, lost in sorrowful thought for a brief moment, then makes a dismissive gesture. She asks Brother Pestle, "How long have you been here on Asir?"
"We have just celebrated our fifth harvest, and work here to purify ourselves for the prior world as this one prepares itself to end."
Kyril opens his mouth to say something, thinks better of it, and shuts up.
Solange squeezes Kyril's hand in sympathy. "Brother Pestle, your wording is confusing. 'Prior world' would refer to one that has already come and gone, would it not? Don't you mean 'upcoming world'?"
"The future is that we cannot see, cannot know; what is behind us. The past is that which is laid out before us, as a tapestry. This is the epicycle. The deferent has its own logic of direction and causation. We are blessed to be at the cusp of a new deferent cycle, as this world ends and the prior world starts." He hesitates. "The elders can show you the math, I admit it is beyond me."
"I would like that," Solange replies, her face lighting up. "Is now too soon?"
"I should not think so," says Brother Pestle. "Elder Germaine is in the dormitory, and there may be other elders in residence as well." He squints up towards the sun. "And we should be gathering for mealtime shortly."
"A bit of food would not go amiss, I'm sure," Solange remarks with a smile as she glances at the men. "I'm fine though, and wouldn't mind talking to an elder now if that's available. Is there one in particular who you think is adept at explaining such things?"
"We all find our paths to wisdom, My Lady. And the teacher may be an Elder or a fool, a vision or a memory. The only explanations are the 'how', not the what." He smiles, deferentially. "You should speak to Elder Germaine. He would like that, and may be able to set you on a path."
"Thank you, I will. I believe he's speaking to Lucas right now, though..." Solange says as she looks around. "Kyril, are you interested in hearing about the math with me, or are you in more of a vegetative state of mind?"
Kyril comes in close to her, she can smell him. His lips brush her ears as he whispers to her. "These guys are so full of shit their eyeballs are brown. How does this serve our overall goal?"
Something in Solange's belly flutters as Kyril's lips touch her ear and he's rewarded with a small intake of breath. She smiles a bit self-consciously at Brother Pestle.
Looking away from the brother, Solange answers Kyril, "Words are often unclear and imprecise, but the math will explain things. I hope."
"Bet?", he whispers. He turns to Brother Pestle. "Do we just go up to the house, like Lucas?"
"That is likely the way that your path runs, yes," says Pestle.
"Well, then," says Kyril, offering his arm to Solange. Coming out of the house, they see another man in robes similar to Brother Pestle's.
"Brother Pestle, I would be most appreciative if you would see these others to the meal you offered," Solange says, gesturing to Cross, Oboe, Birch, and Tallow. "Thank you again for your hospitality."
Pestle smiles at the men. "When they ring the bell, go to the house. Ye may wish to go now, as you've no tasks to keep you in the sun. They should feed us soon." The men look at Solange for permission.
"Have at it," she tells them. "Save some food for everyone else."
She takes Kyril's arm and lets him lead, since he saw which way Lucas had gone and she had not. "So what would you like to bet?" she asks conversationally once they're out of earshot, her smile impish.
He grins back. "What are you willing to lose?"
"My virginity? Already gone. My clothes? We've done that. My way? We've done that too. My honor? I'd like to keep that intact. My marbles? A definite possibility. Looks like it'll have to be 'my marbles' unless you can come up with something more interesting."
"A vacation, without any of your cousins, without a mission, without anyone else around." He takes her hand and raises an eyebrow. "Loser cooks."
Solange laughs, her cheek dimpling. "I remember that you despaired of my cooking back in Lauderville. I'll have you know that I finally learned how to make a decent omelet. You're on."
"Egg-cellent, we won't starve then." He leads her towards the house, after the sailors.
Germaine leads Lucas to a long room on the other side of the main hall, where a large number of tables have been set up. The room could easily seat 100, although perhaps half that number are here now. The seating seems to be haphazard, and Elder Germaine does not seem to be afforded any more honor than anyone else. Lucas recognizes his crew of sailors at the table, eating and talking with the robed figures. They seem to have quite an audience. As Germaine gestures for Lucas to sit, Solange and Kyril also arrive and Germaine gestures them over.
The woman who called Lucas and Germaine to dinner gestures to a group of six seats together. "Well come, friends from Amber. Please eat before we discuss your visit. While life and work and spirituality are all as one, we also prefer to be undisturbed while eating. Disputation at table is a sure way to curdle the digestive juices."
"I couldn't agree more," says Lucas with warm approbation. "You really would be surprised at the number of times I have been moved with the desire to speak to my relatives over the dinner table, and remonstrate with them - gently, of course! - on their unfortunate choice of topics. Topics that could, I assure you, positively curdle a good bechamel sauce. Alas, I am by nature of so mild a disposition that my attempts to spread family peace and harmony go largely unremarked upon."
Solange was about to ask what would probably be designated as a disputative question, but at the woman's proclamation she abruptly shut her mouth, exchanged a look with Lucas, and shrugged marginally. When in Rome...
Lucas smiles seraphically.
Elder Germaine nods and says "Good point, Sister. It shall be as you say."
She introduces herself and Kyril, then takes a seat across from Elder Germaine, the better to see his face as he talks.
The woman names herself as Patent, and passes trays of food from the table's head.
Lucas is the perfect dinner guest, swiftly picking up the customs of the table (if they eat with utensils, he'll do that, but he'll prove equally adept and elegant with fingers, whether both hands or right hand only; if they pass the port to the left, he'll do that; if they help the ladies first ... oh, you get the picture). If innocuous remarks are permitted, he will praise the excellence of the food and beverages; if they are expected to eat in silence or listen to a pious reading, he will pay either the proper attention. He refrains from playing footsie under the table with the woman who summoned them to dinner and - even if she is extraordinarily attractive - appears not to glance down her shirt at all.
Germaine ignores the prohibition on conversation and starts right in. "Lord Lucas, you never did tell us what brings you from Amber to Asiria. Other than what we have already discussed, what can we do for our neighbors and one-time trading partners?"
"The resumption of friendly relations and trade would be an excellent beginning," says Lucas, "especially as the seas in this part of the world might be ... hazardous. We found ourselves blown rather more off course than we were expecting. And, of course, our ship sank, which was a little irritating. However, I am sure we could find a method of communication and an exchange of goods that would prove mutually beneficial.
"Our main interest, however, is to seek enlightenment on two matters that have proved vexatious to us. One - as we have discussed - is my wife's health. The other is the health of the father of my cousins, Lady Solange here, and Lord Vere. You, I daresay, know Prince Gerard well."
Solange stops eating to watch Elder Germaine's reaction, fork still in mid-air.
Germaine's fork is also in the air, and he seems to be drawing with it. "The line of Kings is a tormented one, and those who died in and under Amber were some of the least settled of the messengers who came to me. The vision of the harbor, so choked with bodied that a horseman could ride from one side to the other, the story of the port abandoned for weeks until it could be re-entered. It is the end of the City. Does Gerard die there? So many did." The movement of the slice of turnip on the end of the fork is almost hypnotic.
Patent looks exasperated.
"No, Gerard did not die there. Does not die there. Whatever," Solange replies a bit irritably, touchy on that particular subject. "I want to warn him not to be in the castle when the Sundering happens. You remember, the big earthquake? Lots of people died? Gerard was injured, his legs crushed? I want to warn him not to be there, so that he was never injured. Is that possible?"
Lucas is content to let Solange speak - and Elder Germaine answer, but he shoots a thoughtful look at Patent as he raises his wine glass to his lips and sips.
Patent rolls her eyes.
Lucas gives her a quizzical, but wholly charming smile.
Elder Germaine says "Many things are possible, but you would be better off looking for ways to allow the past to be what it seemed but not what it was. I would think it better to steal his body from the past, before he was injured and trade it for the injured one. It is a moral dilemma, of course. You would have to be the immediate cause of his injuries, but doing so to get rid his injuries a decade later, it might not be a problem. In no other events were also caused by the change, in you might judge one harm against the other... Hmm.
He nods. "I can ask the spirits if they have a way to do this. Unless you have magics to hand yourselves?"
Solange lowers her fork and stares at Elder Germaine, her thoughts whirling. "No...no magics. That's why we're here asking you. Sure...ask the spirits, see what they say. If they come up with a way, we'll need to know exactly how it's all going to happen. We'll need to see the math."
"Or, indeed, the spirits," says Lucas.
"Indeed," Solange agrees.
Elder Germaine hands his plate to Patent, who looks annoyed. He leans back and closes his eyes. "Are there any spirits here who would speak with Lucas the Sincere or to Solemnia, daughter of Spear-hard? Come to me, and I will pass you their questions." He opens his eyes and takes his plate back from Patent. "That may take some time. Perhaps you can tell us all of Amber while we wait. Many of us are quite interested in knowing the story of the end of our old home." He smiles and, for the first time, so does Patent.
Solange's look to Lucas clearly says WTF?
Lucas's return look at Solange is positively cherubic - Botticelli's fingers would be itching for a crayon. His cousins, however, might favour something larger - and heavier.
"I think I owe Kyril a vacation with eggs," she states, then turns to Patent and smiles. "May I talk to you outside for a moment, please?"
Patent stands, and leads the way out of the door into the sparse hallway.
"I will be happy to tell you all about Amber," Lucas says to Elder Germaine expansively. "At least - all that has befallen her since your departure, up until the time I fondly conceive as 'now'."
Germaine stands. "Brothers and Sisters, my guest the Lord Lucas of Amber will tell those who have ears to hear it, tales of the last days our home that was, the dead city of Amber. Those who wish to stay should come closer."
A significant fraction of the audience comes over to the table where Lucas sits. Germaine looks over to Lucas. "You may begin, Lord Lucas. We await your tales."
"But of course," says Lucas, looking around with approbation. A small and discerning audience is what he favours most - failing that, an enthusiastic one will do. He'd never played Shea Stadium - but he'd spoken in some other venues equally impressive. Similarly, he had held forth at more intimate venues of no less renown - and with equal success.
He clears his throat.
"Arms and the man I sing," he announces - and then he launches into an account of what has happened in Amber since they left. He makes them laugh (if the Paresh do laugh), he makes them cry, he mkes them gasp ... or, at the very least he has a dam' good try. He covers the principal events not only chez nous up at the Castle, but down in the City too. He is extremely careful to reveal nothing but what is in the common domain and yet - with consummate skill - does so in such a way that no-one should notice the gaps. He never lies, although he may occasionally be economical with la verite.
They are (generally) fascinated and appreciative, although it's clear that the Castle details that interest them are downstairs, not upstairs.
Lucas adjusts accordingly - and smoothly - it would be clear to any outsider that either Lucas' staff keep him well supplied with below stairs gossip, or he undertake assignations of his own on the other side of the green baize door.
He concludes with speaking of the exodus to Xanadu - at least those detail of it which are known to the general citizen.
There seem to be two distinct groups. One group wants to know what happened to Amber and the other is interested in what it is like now. The latter group asks about laws and rules, especially in Xanadu. It's very clear to Lucas that they're trying to figure out if they'd be arrested for being religious in Xanadu.
Lucas, with all the tact at his command, suggests that while the commendable industry and pioneering spirit so amply displayed by the Paresh might be very welcome, any attempt to proselytize for their faith is liable to be received with marked disfavour by the Powers That Be - but that nevertheless, the possibilities for trading with Xanadu could be exciting in the extreme. As long, of course, as the cargo comprises this rather fine Merlot that Lucas is drinking, and not religious tracts.
Elder Germaine looks at the group. "As it was, so shall it be. An we return to New Amber, we shall help the poor, if it is allowed by the King's law. It is our way."
"Erm," says Lucas. "I'm not too sure about the King's position on this, but I'm pretty sure that some of my contemporaries are going to be doing their utmost to see that the demographic stops somewhere around the lower middle classes. And, you know, a word to the wise here ... but I have a feeling that referring to the place as New Amber might gain a rather old fashioned look in certin quarters. Xanadu, that what we're calling the place."
Germaine makes no reply and doesn't seem to have noticed Lucas' comment at all.
To the other group, so eager to hear about what has happened to Amber, Lucas simply says sombrely, "Nothing. As yet."
He has no desire to undercut the words of their beloved Prophet or their current leader.
Germaine looks to the door that Solange left through. "What are your plans, Lord Lucas? How long will you be staying with us?"
"Well," says Lucas, "hopefully until the spirits have had a chat with you and revealed the answers to our most pressing questions - the Lady Solange's father's and my wife's state of health. But if you feel we should all be making a contribution to the upkeep of the establishment in the mean-time, I'm sure something could be arranged to general satisfaction."
Elder Germaine smiles. "Lord Lucas, this is a farm in height of summer, we work hard, but we are rich enough to afford time to study and meditate. We want nothing more than good relations with our neighbors." Germaine looks Lucas over. "Did you ever consider being a missionary, Lord Lucas? You are extremely well spoken, and there is nothing like ministering to other's physical needs to heal your own spirit."
"You are too kind," responds Lucas, "and I fear too generous. My career thus far in those fields has not been an unqualified success. Indeed, I have made it my mission for at least the last five years of my life to elevate the sartorial standards of my cousins, but I fear there have been little discernible improvement. However, if you feel this would be the most useful return we can make for your kind hospitality then I shall, of course, be delighted to shake or indeed bang a tambourine out there with the best of them."
"An you climb to the caves atop Mount Asir, you would find if missionary work was your true calling. They can tell you there how best to serve the other realm."
"Ah," says Lucas. "Climb every mountain, ford every stream. All part of finding your dream. That really does sound an excellent plan. Would you be joining such an expedition yourself - or should I choose a few good hearted men and true from amongst your stout band here?"
He looks around at the assembled Pareshoners.
"I envy you, Brother Lucas. So much to discover, so many questions unasked that you may yet ask. You have such potential."
Kyril coughs, once.
"Thank you," says Lucas, modestly.
Elder Germaine stands. "Let us retire to the reading room. Perhaps we might find the spirits ready to speak."
"That will be delightful," says Lucas with enthusiasm, although some may suspect that the spirits he would be most desirous of finding in the reading room after such an excellent meal would be more in the nature of a good armagnac or a fine single malt.
Elder Germaine looks around. "Where is your companion? Does she not wish to hear the words of the other world?"
"I'm sure she does," says Lucas. "But she's a helpful soul, you know. She's probably rushed off to volunteer to help with the washing up or something. Perhaps, Kyril, you could find her for us."
He looks towards Kyril with one quizzically raised eyebrow.
"Oh, yes, that'd be just like her." He gets up and dodges out into the hallway.
"Shall we go to the reading room then?" prompts Lucas, who has not yet completely abandoned the hope that it will contain spiritous liquors as well as loquacious spirits.
"Certainly. After you, Lord Lucas." He gestures towards the same door by which they entered.
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LXV: Finding the Paresh | Index | LXVII: A Strange Encounter
