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Henry and Rowan Trump Contact

Rowan gave a nod to the Dowager Queen of Amber, taking a hold of Clarissa's sleeve in case her own vision should blur during the contact. She thought silently along the connection, ~Who is it?~

She saw a tall, muscular, extremely handsome man in red, black and silver, with a black beard and intensely blue eyes. He smiled a familiar smile. ~A man who is as much Eric as you are Fiona, sister. May we speak?~ His lips did not move.

~I'm en route, but somebody else is doing the driving. To what do I owe the courtesy of this call?~ The image he receives is a blonde, slightly tall for a woman and lithe, dressed in emerald green. A tight braid can be seen snaking behind one ear, and a trillium has been tucked in.

Her appearance seems to put the man off for a moment, and he pauses, staring at her. ~Like Fiona, but a little like Flora, too,~ he thinks, without seeming to realize that she can hear him. Then he starts, smiles again, and nods. ~I would like to speak to you, privately and not via Trumps. If you are busy, perhaps we could arrange a meeting at a later time? There are many things wrong with this universe, Fi, and I mean to make up for any mistakes I might have made in life.~

~I have some things planned for the immediate future that include a trip Chaos-ward. Unless we've passed it on the current journey, I believe I'm still on the far side of the World Ash from where Amber used to lie.

~Once my immediate project is dealt with, I should have a better idea of where and when we might be able to meet in the flesh. In the meantime, brother dear, [the sarcasm on these last two words cuts deep] look for your predecessor on Amber's throne. At least one who should know doubts that he is as dead as we all believed.~

Filtering along the Trump contact, some of the original Fiona's emotions bled up -- her general dislike of the most ambitious of her brothers, distaste for him as a fratricide, and an old sense of determination.

Henry's only reaction was surprise. Whether he understood that the emotions were Fiona's or not, he was somewhat shocked at being party to them. Perhaps her recent rebirth had left her rusty, as well. He flashed his signature smile again. ~Are you taking the Jewel to Chaos, then?~

~I'm not letting it out of my possession until I have a better sense of everything happening on both sides of the Tree. I've no plans to visit the Abyss, but there is a distant relative of mine who may have some idea as to whether Dad's alive. If he is, the Jewel is his by right.~

Henry's face darkened, the smile tightened and then disappeared. Her mistrust was understandable but irritating, especially since she seemed to offer this "distant relative" the benefit of the doubt she would not grant to him.

She paused, blurring the Trump contact momentarily to bring Shadow back into focus.

~If he isn't, I'll go from there.~

She wrestled with Fiona's memories briefly before adding another thought. ~Fiona never trusted Faiella's get, even Corwin. If you're at least as much Eric as I am her, things may go badly between us if we do not both make a conscious effort to remember that we are not the same people that we once were.~

The word 'get' did not improve Henry's mood, which had worsened considerably from the impoliteness of putting him on hold, and the rest of her conversation transformed his anger to a smoldering rage.

Suddenly, with a quick thrust of violence, he reached through the contact, grasping for Rowan's arm.

As Henry reached for her, Rowan clenched her fist over Clarissa's sleeve. Clarissa slid her fingertips along Rowan's wrist and was suddenly painfully visible to Henry.

Smiling coyly, Clarissa shoved Rowan through the contact while Henry received the edge of a shock of pure energy, the majority of which scorched the stone around him.

Clarissa plucked the wallet which held the Jewel of Judgment, and suddenly in a vivid shock of Logrus electricity, the contact shifted. Rowan, discombobulated, landed atop Henry, wounded...

And Bess looked on in blatant shock. "What the hell was that?"

Henry's countenance was a terrible thing to look upon at the moment. His starblue eyes were blazing with a fire that threatened to pop them out of his deathly pale face. He reached up and, very, surprisingly gently, moved Rowan off him and on to the floor.

Then he struggled to his feet, stalked into the bedroom, slamming the door so hard it bounced back on it's hinges, and muttered something as he broke a chair against the bedframe. It sounded like, "witch."

After a moment of breathing he returned to the room, seemingly under control. "Bess, this is a ghost of my sister Fiona. I don't think we ever properly introduced ourselves. She does not like me and does not trust me, and attempted to burn out my life. Her redhaired witch of a mother now possesses the Jewel of Judgment. Sister, this is Bess Blackwell, one of my only allies. And I am Henry."

"Rowan, brother. I rather think it's unfair of you to say that I neither like nor trust you -- I hardly know you at all. Let us say instead that my original neither liked nor trusted yours. Incidentally, I wasn't planning to kill you, just to leave you with enough of a headache that I'd've had time to get where we were going and let me do what I planned to do there before getting interrupted again. My skill and control are not what Fiona's were, it seems -- at least for the moment."

She fingered her temple near where her head had struck the stone floor. "It seems that I've simply acquired the headache for my troubles, instead."

Henry's face smoothed out and a gentleness came into the set of his mouth, although there was still some rage in his eyes. "I am not angry at you, Rowan. I realize that Eric and Fiona were not on the best of terms, and that my own actions must have seemed at the very least rude and at worst an attack. My only explanation is that my purpose is urgent and I could not risk the Jewel... falling into the wrong hands."

She nodded. "I'd not have thought my own mother would be the one to abscond with it. If anything, I mistrusted her prisoner that I'd loosed more -- though I presently have no way to apologize to him."

He took a handkerchief from his pocket and gently dabbed the blood from her forehead. "I was taken by surprise, otherwise I would never have let you hit the floor so violently."

"You're not the only one. Interestingly, in hindsight I was warned that Mom might try something like that, but my existence to date is sufficiently short that I didn't see the caution for what it was. And, since my wench of a mother has swiped the Trump decks I had in addition to the Jewel, I can't call in the cavalry anytime soon -- unless you happen to know where Bleys or Brand kept their Trumps for the Chaos-ward portion of our family."

Bess frowned. "I understand little to nothing of this."

Henry let that go for the moment, continuing to speak to Rowan. "It is difficult to be without important memories... such as the trustworthiness of living relatives or lack thereof. Perhaps you ought to go downstairs and assay the Pattern, as I did. You walk the interstices, the burned out part, not the lines. It may help you to understand why I need the Jewel of Judgment - to undo what has been done. And to answer your question, I do not know where either Bleys or Brand kept their trumps. We were on even worse terms than Fiona and I, especially late in the game. I also have no knowledge of anyone with Chaosian trumps, except possibly Clarissa, and that is... well... that is somewhat out of the question at present."

"Our minds think alike, then -- Clarissa and I were en route to the Broken Pattern nearest to my site of manifestation. From there, I planned to draw enough strength from the Jewel to survive a trip to consult with Suhuy, a distant relative on my mother's side who may have some insight into Dad's whereabouts. Mom, at least, rather doubts that he's dead."

"I do not believe it to be a good idea to take the Jewel to Chaos," Henry said. "On the other hand, it would be preferable to leaving it in the hands of Clarissa."

"I know Eric was never on good terms with any of Dad's wives after Faiella died, but you seem to have it in for Mom particularly badly. What gives?"

Henry shook his head. "It is a good deal more complicated than Eric's feelings for Clarissa. On the one hand, I just saw her push her own daughter at a man she had reason to believe was hostile to thee, snatching the Jewel of Judgment in the process. Hardly an action that prompts trust. On the other hand, the Pattern has been - well, rather forgetful in recreating its Amberites." He reached out and gently fingered Rowan's blonde hair. Letting it go, he said, "I have some of Dad's memories. Not very many, but... enough to know that Clarissa's very formidable, and her goals are not going to be the same as mine."

He turned to Bess. "I had wanted to stay here and try to repair some of what has been done to my castle, but it will be impossible now. We ought to gather up the children and take them to your mother, and then I will find Clarissa. Perhaps Rowan would like to accompany me, but before that I think she should walk the thing in the basement. And someone ought to tell Montparnasse we're leaving. I think he came to talk to Rose, but I'd rather not leave anyone alone and unwarned in case the Snow White returns in strength."

"A moment for my head to finish clearing and the basement it is. Incidentally, where are we?"

"You are in Eric's chambers in the palace of Amber... such as it is," Henry said, gesturing expansively but with a certain soured smirk at the corners of his lips.

"We should be particularly careful, then. Some of the secondary architects of this mess were in residence here when last I knew. Do you have a way to the basement safe from their eyes? Maybe Corwin showed you a few of his tricks?"

Henry's quick smile - more a stretching of the mouth, showing his teeth - revealed irritation, but his voice remained courteous. "Corwin showed me tricks about negotiating my own castle? I think not. But no, there are no secret ways to the Pattern room, unless you've walked a different Pattern. As of last night Bianca was out of town, meeting with my son. This could have changed, I suppose. Perhaps we should try for Rebma instead, after we've moved the children."

"I wouldn't worry about Montparnasse," Bess said dryly, "but I'll hop up to Rose's tower on my way to the children and warn him what's what. Don't trust the chit too readily, Henry. We have no idea if this thing with her mother is a setup."

She headed to the door.

"Let's not split up just yet," Henry interjected. "It'll be easier to move the children with more than one adult at all events, and this place is not safe. I have not forgotten those ghost-things outside. Rowan, would you care to accompany us until you are safely gone from this place?"

The charm was back, an easy confident charisma that clung to him like cologne.

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