Jenever's Archives

Archives

Home

Credits

The Chateau at Lohengrin

The chateau was nestled in a little valley just over the brow of the hill, with four round turrets and golden walls in the sunlights. It was fortified, but unobtrusively - the emphasis was on comfort.

Two footmen relieved Seth of his burden - and Haakon's body was taken reverentially to lie in the chapel. It was clear Agneta wished to mount a private vigil there - it was therefore agreed (with Flaubon making tactful hints) that they should go to their own rooms, wash, rest and rejoin each other in the library before dinner.

And so it was agreed.

Footman in discreet blue velvet livery led each of them to separate rooms. Opal, Jenever, Dot and Lynx were placed in one wing - with two other rooms there. Seth, Lazarus, Simon, Morgan and Tobias occupied rooms in another along with Flaubon - and there were further doors too, as though more had been expected.

Inside, each of the rooms was furnished not like a seventeenth century chateau, but like an elegant twenty-first century refurbishment of an seventeenth century chateau. Everything was gleaming with polish, the plumbing in the bathrooms was impressively complex, and the cupboards, when investigated, proved to contain clothing in a variety of style and a range of sizes, as though giving each of them the option to choose the garments in which they would feel most comfortable.

It was not perfection, but it was pretty sybaritic, and the force of contrast with their recent accommodation was strong.

While they were changing and retiring, a very efficient medical gentleman visited those whose injuries seemed to need treatment.

It was a full four hours later that they were due to gather in the library.

The first to arrive found Flaubon and Agneta in low voiced conversation. Her eyes were reddened, but she appeared calmer, and was dressed in a long yet simple gown of dark blue with white collar and cuffs, almost puritanical, save for the silken sheen on the material.

Flaubon was dressed in a casual suit of dark grey, with a dark turtle necked sweater under it. He was moving a little stiffly now - it was clear that his treatment had included having his broken ribs strapped up. He appeared relaxed, but there was a tension about him, in the way in which he kept turning something over and over in the pocket of his jacket.

Morgan, when he entered the library, wore buff-coloured trews and a crimson doublet. The trews were cuffed over a pair of black boots. His shoulder length hair, clean again finally, fell in ringlets of burnished flame to his shoulders. He stepped inside lightly for all his size, and his eyes flickered over the two already there.

While making it clear that he acknowledged them and their aid, he stayed back, letting them continue to have their privacy. Instead, he stepped to one side, his left hand resting near his hip, as if from long habit, the fingers flexing as if they sought something they were accustomed to gripping. His face was somber, its perfection seeming colder and more statue-like - until, as he turned, an unguarded moment came, and the flesh softened until it looked almost human. What softened him could only be guessed at, but whatever it was, it was brief.

A few minutes after Morgan came down Opal entered the room. She wore a cream colored wool gown, with a high neck and full sleeves. Her hair pulled back severely into a tight bun. She wore a minimum of makeup.

She walked into the room straight to where Flaubon and Agneta were talking. She waited for their conversation to pause, then to Flaubon: "Can we please speak in private before this gathering?" Opal asked him bluntly.

Flaubon looked at her for a long moment, his face expressionless. Then he gave a short nod oh his head and gestured, indicating a door in the corner of the room, half hidden by a library staircase (a mobile one, on wheels).

"We can go into the study. No-one will disturb us there."

"Thank you. Excuse us, Agneta," Opal said, somewhat apologetically. "We won't be long."

Opal preceded Flaubon into the study, and the door closed behind them.

Moments after the study door had closed, Lazarus entered the Library. He was dressed in simple black. His shirt and slacks were made of silk, and his shoes were of soft leather. Just above the top button on his shirt, a stiff inch wide collar of white could be seen.

"Morgan," he said as he smiled and nodded. He looked clean and rested. There was some purple bruising around the corner of his mouth, but he showed no other injuries from the fighting earlier.

"Virtue!" he called over his shoulder, and was quickly answered by a single soft bark. A scruffy mutt no more, Virtue happily pranced into the room... clean, white and fluffy. The little dog made quick rounds; first sniffing Lazarus' feet and then hurrying around to sniff at the feet of Agneta and then Morgan.

"Come on boy, leave Morgan alone. I'm sure he doesn't want you bothering him," chided Lazarus. Virtue's response was to fall upon the floor and furiously shake and squirm, all four paws in the air... lost in the ecstasy of his own back scratching.

It was not long after that Seth entered; black boots, black trousers, a white shirt with a stiff collar, sleeveless black silk vest with a looping design in gold thread on the front, and a black-and- gold striped ascot-like tie held by a gold pin. There was a gold chain that led to a watch-pocket. He looked around the room before crossing over to Lazarus and Virtue.

"I knew he'd be able to find us," he said. "A last hope...better treat this dog right, Lazarus."

Lazarus nodded in agreement, "Yes, he's a good dog. I promised him a steak already, and I'm sure he wouldn't mind a good belly rub" he said as he looked towards Morgan.

Morgan looked at the dog and shook his head. "I'm - not much for animals. Though I did have a wolf keeping me company for a time. But - as is the way with wolves - he never sought anything more than company, and I am fairly certain that he would not have welcomed any pets or scratches."

Dot entered the library, trying not to disturb conversations in progress. She was dressed in a denim blouse and black jeans. Her feet were bare, and her face was far less grungy than last seen. She had spent a great deal of time marveling at the plumbing in the bathroom, and had utilized same to full effect.

Jenever entered just in time to smile at Morgan's remark. She had settled for black leather pants and a red button-down silk blouse, tucked in, only two of the buttons done up. She was clean and her immensely long hair had been washed and braided, although it was still relatively wet. Despite her bruises and the touches of red swelling from the poisoned water in Karadon, she looked fresh and happy.

"So this is where everyone has gathered," she said warmly, looking around. She saw the woman she did not know and approached. Softly she said, "Thank you. For all of this. It is a great thing, when we have offered you nothing but pain."

She came to Morgan then, "I never got the chance to thank you," she told him, "for coming to my rescue as you did in that courtyard. I know you would have rather...fought the Hunter." The last few words were added rather weakly, as if Jenever, for once, was not entirely sure how to say what she felt. She smiled, then and turned to Lazarus and Seth. "And you two miracles. You look much better - are your wounds all right?" She paused, knelt down and looked at Virtue. "And our little savior - is he all right as well?"

"Old Virtue?" Lazarus asked as he too rubbed at his own wrists. "He's indestructible from the looks of it, and I'll not underestimate the little mutt ever again," he said with a smile.

Virtue rolled from his back to stand and look up at Jenever, his tail wagging an off-tempo rhythm. With a sudden grunt, he dropped his hindquarters to the floor and began to drag his rear over the closest stretch of carpeting.

Morgan chuckled softly. "Apparently, he wants his tummy rubbed. As for the Hunter - had I my own axe, I'd have been more than willing to try it against him. Armed only with an unfamiliar sword, no."

He sighed then, and shook his head. "That ax was - expensive. I'd not like to have to pay that price yet again to replace it. No more the armour."

Anyone who thought he spoke about money was dissuaded by the dark shadows in his ice-blue eyes. The cost he referred to was one that still bore on his soul.

Jenever smiled. "I understand. I feel the same way about my q'dayeh."

"The Hunter will eventually be able to walk to his axe," Seth said. "As I understood things...at least, Ayesha explained this to me once...if a thing is special, part of you, then you don't necessarily have to walk to its location. If the rulers of Karadon underestimated you, and didn't take precautions to keep it in a place, you could simply walk to a Shadow of your desire and your things will be there. I'm not saying that they're stupid, by any means...but they underestimated us. They may have let that slip. There's hope, anyway."

Morgan shook his head both to the statement, and the question of a drink. "Unless such a bond can be formed without the knowledge of the holder, none such exists with my axe. More's the pity. And in any event, my own experience with walking shadow and the plantaxy are recent. Very recent. I've no more than a few weeks of study with either."

Seth stood, crossed to a small portable bar in the library, and poured two fingers of scotch. "I've walked Shadow for a long time," he said. "I've been tempted to forge such a bond. Like a weapon, or an animal companion. I've had a few temporary ones, in individual shadows. But I've always been worried that such a thing would be taken away." He shook his head. "The only thing I've been guarding like that was my plantaxy, and you can see what happened there. Anybody want a drink?" He looked at Jenever. "Oh, yeah, almost forgot. I'm better, thanks."

"Good, and yes. Yes." She looked at the men, her expression growing somewhat tighter as it became obvious that there were to be little in the way of pleasantries before business. She moved to where Dot was seated. "And you," she said with a smile, "how are you? This must have been especially difficult for you, Dot."

Dot was quiet as she thought of Jenever and recent events. "Yes. I didn't expect this. I'm not a warrior or adventurer. I'm just looking for someone."

Seth came over with a brandy snifter containing a dark liquid. It was a brandy, from some place called 'Cognac'; he hadn't heard of it, but the aroma promised good things. He nodded and sat beside them.

"So, Seth, how are you feeling? I took a little nap, but I know I could sure use a good twelve hours more." Lazarus moved and sat in a high backed wooden chair, close to where Morgan was sitting.

Seth pulled one of his cuffs back a bit on his arm, rubbed the wrist underneath. "Much better, thanks. I heal pretty fast, even for one of us." He moved to a small couch nearby, and relaxed against the cushions. "Beats the hell out of straw, that's for sure."

Morgan's reverie broke, and as he looked at Seth, the shadows in his gaze receded, though they did not leave entirely. "One of us? How do you mean? Aside from the ability to use Plantaxy - which seems much more common than it's supposed to - what have we in common?"

"A lot," Seth said. "And I owe Tobias a story about Ayesha...I forgot that a lot of you don't have any idea what the hell is going on. Flaubon will help, once he gets back here, I think. Normally it would involve a lot of trust, but if we can't trust each other by now, we never can." He mused for a second. "I guess I better wait for him, too. The short answer is, we're kind of related. Sort of."

As everyone spoke, Dot retrieved a small fruit drink and settled into a chair. She was comfortable, relaxed and quietly watching those around her. She listened with less concern than she had in the cell, and rest would come soon. She sipped casually from her drink, her head cocked slightly to the left.

"Perhaps," said an imperious voice near the door,"I can answer a few questions."

Standing there was a woman who appeared to be well into the later decades of life, dressed in a long and scrupulously neat black gown, buttoned high at the neck with an immaculate collar of white lace. She was using a black ebony walking stick as she moved a little stiffly into the library. Around her neck she was wearing a lorgnette, and this she raised to survey those currently occupying the room.

"Seth, my dear boy," she said, and her somewhat stern face relaxed slightly. "We have been very worried ... "

Her gaze swept the room. "We did not anticipate bringing so many of you together," she said, moving into the room and towards a high-backed chair near the fireplace. "At least - not at this juncture. And there is considerable danger in it."

She took her seat, bolt upright in the chair, no hint of yielding.

"We have known losses," she said. "Ayesha, Oland, Piotr. And now Haakon. But we are here - and more have survived than perhaps we should have expected."

Another considering look through the lorgnette.

"Agneta ... and Dot, is it? I grieve for your losses."

Dot looked at her in bewilderment. She said nothing, but her face read "how is it that so many know about me?" She felt the scrutiny of others and blushed slightly, bowing her head.

She was silent for a moment, and then said, "I am known as the Baronne von und zu Pertisau. You may addressed me as Baronne.

"And I will answer as many of your questions as I can. But, I think, some of you are missing."

Jenever turned to address the woman. "If you are willing to answer my questions before everyone is assembled, the first thing I would like to know is who you refer to when you say 'we?'"

As Lazarus sat in the hard wooden chair, Virtue wandered back to him and curled up at his feet.

Lazarus smiled.

"Good boy," he whispered. His hands in his lap, Lazarus closed his eyes and let his head tip forward. His chin resting on his chest, he became quiet and motionless... someone would have to look close to even see that he was still breathing.

"Perhaps," said a quiet voice, "I should answer your question, lady."

It was Flaubon - no longer the ragged beggar they had seen in Karadon, but clean-shaven, and dressed in a casual suit of dark grey, with a dark turtle necked sweater under it. He was moving a little stiffly now - it was clear that his treatment had included having his broken ribs strapped up. He appeared relaxed, but there was a tension about him, in the way in which he kept turning something over and over in the pocket of his jacket.

He moved into the room from the study, Opal at his side - and then made his way to the drinks trolley.

"Martini, Miladi?" he asked. "Just step over ... and breathe the word 'vermouth' over this glass ... "

He mixed the drinks, and handed one to Opal with a small smile and bow. Then he moved, taking another martini to where the Baronne sat in her chair. She accepted it, and sipped at it slowly.

Flaubon stayed beside her, glancing round at the others assembled.

"Some of you ... know something of what I'm going to speak ... To others of you ... "

He was silent for a moment.

"It's a long tale," he said at least. "It starts ... with gods and goddesses. And it ends - at least it has reached at this point - those of you assembled in this room.

"Men devote their lives to the study of the gods. And even then don't manage to absorb it all ... We have, I'd judge, at best a couple of days before we're found - and less than that before my voice gives out.

He sipped his martini.

"It's easiest if I start with the Fall," he said at last.

"Before that - there were nine gods, five goddesses. According to some accounts. Others postulate more. Older gods, missing gods. Usual sort of thing. Scholars discover obscure manuscripts like the Book of Delwin and argue that he must once have been co-eval with the rest.

"Anyway ... the general agreement names the pantheon like this: Benedict the Warrior, Eric the Proud, Corwin the Minstrel, Deirdre the Amazon, Bleys the Carouser, Fiona the Enchantress, Llewella the Siren, Brand the Betrayer, Caine the Sailor, Julian the Forester, Gerard the Giant, Flora the Fair and Random the Rogue ...

"Got that, all of you? There'll be a test later.

"Anyway ... All accounts pretty generally agree there was war between the gods. And goddesses - I'm going to use the term gods for both, if you'll allow. And it ended, as these wars do, in Gotterdammerung. The rather sensational final battle, by all accounts, saw the death of Brand and Deirdre - according to some texts, Eric had been killed earlier.

"The battle itself, however was not the end. Something that was done then unleashed a mighty storm that blasted through all creation and destroyed it - in most part. In that storm, many of the gods were lost. Those that were left were weakened - almost to mortal status. Well, their immortality was certainly lost - although they retained other qualities.

"And so they set out to colonise various other parts of Shadow, and bend it to their liking. In the time they had left.

"As a matter of interest - how old are each of you? You all look to be in your twenties ... "

He smiled wryly. "How old would you say I am? Thirty-two? Thirty-five? A youngish forty?"

"I'm a hundred and fifty by what we call Amber time - and I'll live a hundred and fifty more if you people don't get me killed sooner. And in my veins, the blood of Amber is weak. I have only a small ability with the Elementals - and I can only manipulate a small Plantaxy. If I tried to access a larger one ... I'd become lost in it ... to all intents and appearances mad.

"As I said ... my blood is weak. Yours is strong - many of you have proved that by your ability to use the Plantaxy. You're strong in other ways too - which you may or may not have discovered. Miladi, who looks so frail and delicate now, carried me down the length of a lift shaft back in a rather grim Shadow called Bogatina. I daresay none of you have got into a fist fight you didn't win unless you were fouled. And you've presumably discovered you're quicker at study than most ... you soak up knowledge like sponges. I do it too ... to a lesser extent.

"And years ... you'll live five hundred - maybe six if you're lucky. Not immortal - as you would have been pre-Patternfall, as they called it. You can curse the gods for that.

"But still, in Shadows where the average is eighty or ninety, that's still something."

He stood up, walked to the bar and poured himself another martini.

"So ... in the ruined creation after Patternfall, there were the shattered remanants of the surviving gods.

"Some wandered away and were lost in Shadow. Not many ... Some went away and founded Cyberia - out beyond the Wastelands. A place ... a place we can't reach by shifting Shadow, or walking the song-lines. At least - I've never herard of it being done ...

"But some came here - to the Enclaves. Some settled and founded a kingdom. Karadon - the Shadow where they tried to recreate Amber. For a little while."

"The founders of Karadon were the largest surviving group of the gods. The ones known as Caine, Julian, Flora, Llewella, Bleys and Fiona.

"For some three hundred years, all went well. But then they began to perceive their own mortality ... Llewella left - for a different Shadow. Later there was a civil war. Bleys and Fiona - the Auburni, they were called, were defeated and banished. The three remaining gods established their rule in Karadon ... and became known as the Lord of Shadows, the Hunter and the Lady."

"That was two thousand years ago ... and those gods and goddesses have passed, long since. But always a triumvirate reigns in Karadon. The Lord of Shadows - sometimes, occasionally, a Lady of Shadows. The Hunter - and there have been two Huntresses. And the Lady. Always a Lady. And always the three who reign together."

Tobias stifled a nervous laugh. "Well, not now... The Lord is dead, or, at least, that's what his siblings were getting ready to kill all of us over." He took another sip of his drink, something he called a 'White Angel.'

"Five--- Five hundred years? You're mad... No one... I mean, I'm not the descendant of a god! No one in my family is that old!"

Seth inclined his head. "You will. You've used elementals. You've handled a plantaxy, too, though I don't remember if you attuned one. It's the genes, you see. There are many of us, of the Blood, but to varying degrees. Genetics is a real crap shoot. It's perfectly possible that your family carried the traits and that it showed up stronger in you. Or, you could be fostered..."

He sat up straighter. "I did an exhaustive analysis of myself, when I began wandering Shadow. There's differences...we don't get sick easily. We heal fast. Our blood cells carry unique antibodies. Strength. Mental acuity, just like Flaubon said. We rise to the top, in whatever field we choose. And our genotyping..." He looked over at the Baroness. "That reminds me... we need to talk about something that Ayesha tried to tell me."

Opal frowned as she considered Seth's words. "I've not studied genetics," she said in a contemplative tone. "But if I understand what you're saying, then it isn't so much the purity of our blood, but a specific combination of genes that allows us to access our powers?"

Seth flashed her a grin. "Not quite so easy," he said. "There's something else...something I couldn't lay a finger on. Yes, I experimented, copied the genes onto different vectors, but that in itself wasn't enough. It's somewhere in that line between biology and biochemistry, between life and just random reactions. There's a...purity...to us, for a lack of a better word. Our blood, like ourselves, is 'real'. Like it's a template for the blood of creatures of shadow. It makes sense, because we ourselves are more 'real' than Shadow, too. I couldn't make one of us, for example, not with genetic manipulation."

Morgan looked at Opal and Seth. "I do not doubt that you understand what you say, but not all of us have that luxury. Would you mind explaining yourselves? Genes, genetics and genotyping mean nothing to me, save that they are all related in some form."

"I understand," Seth said. "The simple message is that we're related, descended from those of...Amber." He nodded. "Because of fate, or luck, we're stronger than others who have the blood. Since we exist, you know that there has to be others like us, of varying strength."

Morgan listened, his eyes widening slightly at some of the statements, a millimetric smile forming at others. Then, as Flaubon finished, he shrugged. "I hate to do this, but I have to find several flaws with the inclusion of myself into this august body. While it's true that I do learn quickly, and I am fairly strong, those who trained me were strong as well, and some were as good or better than I at combat. To this day, I feel concern that my old patron might choose to battle me. As for my age, that's an easy one. I was found by my patron around age nine, and spent the next eleven years with the Order. So I am somewhere between twenty and twenty-two. I look my age, even if no one else here does."

He chuckled briefly, a harsh sound that had little humour in it. "Still, I acknowledge your other points. I can use the large Plantaxy, though I was unaware that size was a consideration in that. And I have heard of the gods - or saints, as my Order calls them. Beyond that - well, let me simply say that my mind is open."

Jenever found herself smiling, incongruously, through Flaubon's words and the discussions that followed. "Of course!" she said in a rich, throaty voice evocative of pleasure. "My blood... That's what the old man meant. One must also assume, however," she added, now speaking to the others instead of merely to herself, "that not only are the Rulers of Karadon like to us or greater in this blood, but that there are also descendants of the Auburni with such powers? Yes?"

"Some of you," said Flaubon, "have the blood of the Auburni. Others ... " He avoided looking at Opal. " ... have blood of the Rulers of Karadon."

"Well..." Jenever replied coolly, noting his discomfort, "does that make a difference?" Her expression, still pleased and tranquil, now took on a distant look. It occurred to her that the Hunter and the Lady had mentioned the Auburni, but in connection to mirrors...and Jenever.

"Not to me," said Flaubon. "If anything, I might be more inclined to feel sympathetic to the Auburni. They didn't kill my parents and their entire village. However, I have lived long enough to know they have many times been guilty of equal atrocities.

"After the quarrel between the Rulers and the Auburni, the Auburni were captured and held in the fortress of Karadon," he went on. "In a special type of chains ... so they couldn't access their elementals. The ones that were used on you, I imagine. Or perhaps they did not bother. I imagine, despite the Plantaxy, they saw you as weak. A mistake they will not make again.

"The night before the Auburni were due to be executed, they escaped - no-one knows how. Some corrupt guard, perhaps. Perhaps a secret route from the fortress that allowed them to access Shadow - although that seems unlikely. You - after all - left a trace of your passing. Several, I suspect." He smiled slightly.

"But - somehow - the Auburni did escape. Since that time, they have been wanderers. Occasionally a ruler in some Shadow will be believed to be one of the Auburni - if the rumours seem convincing, Karadon will attack. Usually Karadon will win ... they harass any who claim to be Auburni from place to place ... and the Auburni retaliate with their own attempts to destroy Karadon.

"No Shadow is safe from their struggle ... or their mutual greed."

Flaubon glanced at the Baronne, who was sitting a little more upright in her chair, her gnarled fingers clenched on the arms.

"What exactly did Ayesha say to you, Seth?" she finally said, her voice cold.

"Ayesha was always faster on the draw than me," he said. "She was way ahead of what I had done- or maybe she just had access to more sophisticated equipment. She said she had found..." he paused. "Do you really want to discuss it here?"

"I would like you to," Opal answered from where she sat near Flaubon. "I think it would be very informative, even if all of us don't understand all the remifications." She pointedly didn't look at either Flaubon or the Baronne as she sipped her martini.

The Baronne looked at her narrowly.

"There are some things, young lady, that should be discussed in public and some that should not. Are you quite sure that everyone here is trustworthy?"

"It's not a desire to hoard information," Seth said, "it's just that it was...well...personal. About her and me. I don't want to say anything that she would not have wanted known. I'll talk about Ayesha all day, but not something that she wanted to keep private. I only mentioned it because I think she meant to talk to...the Baronness... before she died."

Opal was silent for a moment. She stirred her martini, watching the fluid swirl in the glass.

"I don't know," she finally said. "The only person I really know in this room is Flaubon, and he rarely tells me everything. But I would feel better if I knew what had happened to the nail when I was removed from the cage...." Opal looked up at Seth, still stiring her drink.

Seth flushed crimson. "I used it, weakened my manacles, and passed it along," he said. "I had assumed that it was used, because from what I can recall, everybody in the cage with me except Lazarus," he nodded to the meditating figure, "who was busy at the time, was able to break theirs. I should have made sure I got it back. I didn't, because I'm bad about leaving things undone- you'd be suprised how much of my life relies on luck. If you're looking for someone responsible for you being put in that tomb, it was me. I am deeply sorry."

Morgan looked over at Seth and sighed. "You gave it to me. I, however, could not use it. My skills do not lie in that direction, and I had no idea if there was another way for it to be used. I believe, however, that Dot used it to great effect, freeing me and others."

Flaubon cleared his throat. "You asked if we were hostile to the Auburni," he said to Jenever. "The best way to answer you is to say ... we stand apart. We owe allegiance to neither Karadon nor the Auburni. And, until now, our best guard has been the fact that neither side knew of us."

"Our group ... All of us ... have witnessed the evils of the Auburni and Karadon - and wish to end it. To that end, we have, over the last fifty years, been seeking out those ... in whom the blood of Amber is strongest. Using the plantaxy to strengthen them further, where possible. Sometimes ... it cannot be done. There has to be a readiness ... an ability to respond." He frowned slightly. "Perhaps I should call it a predisposition to the elementals that is not present in all who bear blood of Amber. That might mean that one of lesser power, like myself, might be more suited than one in whom the blood is strong, but where the predisposition is lacking."

"I don't know about the Auburnii," Seth said, "and I'll take your word for it. Karadon, however... they as much admitted that they had Ayesha killed. Now the Hunter's laying somewhere with Haakon's and my arrows in him, and the Lady fled the field. I haven't even started with them yet. It's personal now."

"Quite," said the Baronne repressively. "This should be confined to those of us who knew Ayesha ... "

He eyes fell on Lazarus, seemingly dazed still in the chair.

"Those of us who knew Ayesha well," she amended.

Lazarus did not move, his lips parted only slightly when he spoke, and his eyes remained closed: "Have a care lady, or you will start sounding too much like our previous hosts." His voice remained calm, "Don't expect to gain our trust if you don't give us yours."

The Baronne gave a sniff. "It seems to me, young man, after four hundred and fifty years of dealing with bout the Auburni and Karadon that a state of wary distrust is perhaps the healthiest one that we could have."

"A little strong, Marguerite," said Flaubon mildly.

"But perhaps not inappropriate." Opal looked around at the others in the room. "It is true we were all prisoners together. But I will concede to the Baronne that she has no real reason to trust any of us. Including myself." Opal looked at Flaubon. "I was separated from the rest. You have no real way of knowing if anything happened to me that would..." She searched briefly for the correct word. "compromise me."

Opal looked back at the others. "And in fact, in the beginning we were kept separate from each other. I 'remember'," she stressed the word, "being blindfolded and gagged, lying on dirty straw in some cold stone cell by myself. But did that actually happen to all of us? We must be honest with ourselves that there is a genuine risk in trusting any of us."

"Perhaps," said Flaubon, a little diffidently, "you could tell us what happened to you. I know you became separated from the rest with Simon - and you were able to recover three of the Plantaxies. But none of us know the details - except that you met with someone who stole the other plantaxies."

He looked at her inquiringly.

Opal frowned suddenly. "I'd... rather not." Her cheeks turned pink as she looked away from Flaubon. "I... can help describe the man who stole the plantaxy. But.." she swallowed, "I haven't had a chance to think it all through myself." Opal looked distinctly uncomfortable.

Flaubon looked at her searchingly, and then reached out a hand to her, taking her own hand in his.

"What you feel you can tell us ... I believe it might aid us," he said.

Opal hesitated, then nodded, looking down at Flaubon's hand holding hers. "Give me this evening to sort it out. Part.. of the problem is at one point I was exposed to an hallucinogen. That was about 5 hours ago. Even now.. My memories are somewhat distorted. I still haven't worked through it all."

She squeezed Flaubon's hand. "But I am fine now, except for a little bit of a fuzzy head."

Flaubon looked up as Simon and Lynx entered and frowned slightly. The Baronne raised her lorgnette and regarded them both for a long moment. Then she gave a small nod - as though one, or perhaps both of them had passed some arcane test.

"Good," she said. "Now you are all here. If there are any more questions we can answer, we shall do our best. And then we have some of our own ... for you."

Opal formally nodded to Simon and Lynx as they entered.

Morgan turned away from Simon and Lynx, quite obviously, focusing on the Baronne and Flaubon. "I have many questions. I have yet to see any point to asking them however, since it seems as though the answers would mean little or nothing to me. So ask. I may answer."

"I have a question," Opal said to the Baronne. "Why do the Lords of Karadon and the Auburni really hate or fear those with plantaxy?"

The Baronne smiled.

"For a long time, they believed that only they had the power to use the plantaxy. The full plantaxy. It has long suited the Rulers and the Auburni to give small plantaxy to those who served them - and to those who they wished to favour. If those people had the ability, they could utilise elementals - perhaps one or two, weakly. As I can. As Flaubon can.

"But - until very recently - I don't think they realised that anyone other than themselves could use full plantaxy. Now ... they are like parents who realise their children are starting to play with matches. It has scared them - badly. Perhaps they are scared for the first time in millennia.

"And they are right to be scared. For you do indeed threaten them. You have the power to burn down their house around them."

"You better believe it," Seth said. "For Haakon. And Ayesha. Whatever I can do, I'll do."

"But... I don't understand," Opal said, glancing around the others. "If they were once chosen, then there have always been those who could fully use plantaxy aside from the rulers themselves. Unless... they can somehow teach their chosen?" She frowned as she asked the last.

Tobias sighed. "Oh. Goodie. I go from procurement to anarchist and arsonist, just because I went digging in Mother's jewelry box... Lovely. I suppose this is some sort of 'pre-revolution' meeting?" He sipped at his drink again. "You know... it will be a tad difficult to be force to be reckoned with, when we only have a few of the chips to our name. The one I truly fear is our little snoop." He looked at Opal, pointedly, then began looking about for anything that might be a snuff box.

Opal turned pink. "And what is that supposed to mean?" she demanded of Tobias, her green eyes flashing.

He gave her a wan smile as he found a box, and began rolling himself a cigarette.

"Only a referance to your close-lippedness about the whole robber affair... Not wanting to tell us what went on behind closed doors. Now, to you, this may seem like the innocent enough act of protecting yourself, but look at it from another's point of view-- one who is quite naked at this moment-- namely, me. This man has my crystal. Without it, I'm not doing myself or anyone else a damn bit of good, unless someone here wants a boat chartered, or a dashing brunch arranged.

"How do I know that you and he weren't in on it together, and you're simply selling him out now? This is, of course, provided the man exists at all..."

Opal jumped to her feet. "How DARE..." she bit off what she was going to say, her face now pale from fury.

Flaubon rose to his feet. "Easy, Miladi," he said calmly. "The Baronne is right - there is little reason to trust - and much cause to feel suspicion."

Opal looked around the room frantically.

"I've spent a large part of my life reading people," Seth said. "I've spent time with Lazarus, and with Opal. I've put my life in Flaubon's hands, and those of the Baronness. I know I'm not in some kind of collusion with Karadon, even if that doesn't help you, Tobias. And I trust all four of them- one way or another, they've proved themselves to me."

Opal's eyes settled on the Baronne. Opal swallowed, looked at Flaubon. "Baronne, may I have your ring please?" she asked still looking at him.

The Baronne looked at her, frowning and then at Flaubon, who nodded agreement. With a sigh, the Baronne eased a signet ring over her arthritic finger joints - and many of those in the room saw the flash of the little stone.

Opal accepted the ring. "Thank you. Hopefully this shouldn't damage it," she told the lady.

The Baronne's head bowed once, as though in acknowledgement.

She took a deep breath. "This isn't going to be pretty..." she muttered to Flaubon. Then she held the ring up to eye level, stared at it for several moments. Everyone in the room felt a surge of elemental, even those with little sensitivity.

Flaubon's face twisted briefly ... but he waited.

Opal gasped, staggered back a few steps. "There's a place... you should stop..." She smiled faintly. "It'll be when the floor goes out from under you..."

"Thank you," said Flaubon, with characteristic dryness. "I'll do my best to bear that in mind."

Now trembling, she handed the ring to him. "This should allay most... questions..." she gasped, then slowly sat back down again.

He moved to her side, then knelt beside her, reached out his hand ... and laid his long fingers on the crystal within the ring. A pale blue light began to fill the room, and they saw ....

Copyrights & Credits

Designed by Aethereality.net
Images © Index Stock
Textures © The Blooming Effect and Hybrid Genesis
Brushes © Relished.net and Cirratus.org and Roshiweb.com