Robin and Diplomacy
The fault is mine. Robin has made clear that she has no patience with diplomacy, and is a creature of passion. I must remember in the future that if I truly wish a reasoned discussion with an enemy, or even a potential enemy, or wish to attempt to obtain information through conversation, I must arrange things so that Robin is elsewhere.It was, in retrospect, a serious miscalculation. And one that I cannot excuse. I am not certain how I could have so badly misjudged the situation. I believed that Robin would understand how important it was that we gather as much information as possible, and seek to subtly nudge Huon towards considering us as potential allies. We might have been able to convince him to leave on his own. Now, even if he does flee the Isles immediately, we run the risk that much of his army, along with their weapons, will be left behind. This will change the nature of the Isles drastically.
And it is by no means certain that Huon will leave. But we will never have such an excellent opportunity to question him again. The next move is his, and it is unlikely to be conciliatory.
The Death of Canareth
What more could I have done to have prevented this? When I learned of Prince Huon I immediately began to plan to meet him, and I arranged with Mother and Avis to order the men to fall back to defensive positions while we sought to learn more, and decided how to handle it. Jovian knew this, but chose to travel into the territory of the Witch Queens on his own. When I learned that Huon had brought rifles, and extrapolated from this the possibility of cannon, I immediately told Kourin to communicate this information to Jovian.No, on careful consideration, I can find no point at which I did not act correctly, considering the information I then possessed.
When Loyalties Conflict
I have often wondered what would occur if – when – the many loyalties to which I am bound came into conflict. Finally, I have an answer. When I suspected the Lady Robin was in danger, then, suddenly and without warning, everything crystallized in my mind. I must rush to her side as quickly as possible, nothing else mattered. The Witch Queens I spoke with, the negotiations of a possible peace, the very safety of the Isles, of the entire shadow of which the Isles are but a part, none of this mattered. Only Robin.Only Robin.
The Important of Honesty
I strive to never lie. Of course, this does not mean I always tell the truth. I am selective in what I say, and I must admit to a certain pleasure in the carefully chosen misleading statement, a truth told in such a way that a desired incorrect assumption is drawn by my hearer. And careful study of individuals will often reveal the things they are interested in, items that can be dropped into a conversation to distract them and turn their attention away from topics one does not wish to discuss. But I endeavour to always speak in such a way that, if called upon to so so, I can clearly point out how what I said was, in fact, nothing but truth, even if not the whole truth.
It is important to have a reputation for honesty. When a situation demands immediate action such a reputation will mean that there is no time wasted while my word is verified. It will mean that my ability to influence events is increased. And it will give me greater access to information and those who hold it.
And, when a dire situation arises where a lie is absolutely necessary, and nothing else will serve, the carefully developed reputation for honesty will mean that the chance of the lie being believed is greatly increased.
Gateway and the Paresh Temple
I never had a chance to investigate the reason for the interest the embassy from Gateway showed in acquiring the Paresh building. Princess Fiona implied, or at least subtly led me to believe that she had implied, that it had something to do with the residual magic left over from whatever rituals had occurred in the basement of that building. But it was clear that she was more concerned about the building's access to the tunnels underneath Kolvir.Which leads, of course, to the spirits of the two priests who opened the way to those tunnels for Princess Pastoral so long ago. Why were they still there? Did they die there for opening that way? Or did that event simply remain so important a part of their lives that their spirits returned there from wherever and whenever they did eventually die?
Or was it something else entirely? After all, my vision of Master Germaine as a child clearly had nothing to do with his death. There is something odd about that temple, and the tunnels beneath it, that needs further research.
And, clearly, the mages of Gateway know something of it. Enough to want it, at any rate.
The Witch Queens
I was raised with the name of the Witch Queens as a threat and a terror. They sacrificed bad little boys to the Goddess, according to my nurse, and there were always priestesses who would pass on to them the names of any little boys who did not obey their elders and do as they were told. (As an aside, while I loved her dearly, the more I think about some of the things Soldu told me, the more I think she had very strong Traditionalist leanings herself.)I fought against them for over a decade in the forest of the East, and their behaviour in those wars did nothing to make me change my opinions of them. They were clever opponents, and no doubt they had their own sense of honour, but they appreciated the uses of terror in combat, and it was well known that it was far better to die than to fall a prisoner into their hands. Indeed, on more than once occasion I gave mercy to a fallen comrade who might have lived, had we not been forced to move on from our position, and known that to leave him behind would be to leave him to their mercy.
And then came the horrors from the Black Forest. A threat so dangerous that we were forced to make common cause with our ancient foes. And having once made alliance with them, can I be surprised that there are those of our people who find so much in common with them?
Which leads me to wonder, is it possible that the ancient feud can be set aside? Not on their terms, but on ours? Ysabeau was their goddess as well, indeed, perhaps more theirs than even ours. Will they follow Ysabeau's daughter?
And if they will, where will my beloved Robin lead them?
Mother and Avis
It is clear that my sister is moving more and more to assume authority over the course of the war. And Mother is allowing, indeed, encouraging this assumption. I do not object to this change in their relationship in and of itself. My concern is over the reason for this transfer of authority. When considered in light of The Lady’s continued weakness, the speed with which she tires, I worry that my mother is allowing this transfer due to her own concerns over her health. Avis says that the damage to Mother’s health came about due to sorcerous combat, to her overstraining herself fighting off a Witch Queen attack. She is not recovering as quickly as I had expected. Is this perhaps due to the divided nature of the Isles, is the internal divide of her realm being echoed in her own health? These are questions that I should be able to answer. Again and again, my own ignorance of sorcery and metaphysics hampers me in understanding matters of the utmost importance to me and those I love. Truly, I hate being in the position of simply not understanding enough about a situation to even know what questions to ask about a problem, let alone to begin to formulate a solution.The Fights of the Elders
The sudden appearance of Prince Huon, and his enmity for Prince Bleys, brings to my mind once more the legacy of the feuds and struggles of the elder generation. Eric’s struggles with Corwin, the maneuverings of the Redheads, the deaths that resulted from the mad schemes of Brand, all of these have repercussions that echo still through the family. Like many of my generation, I was not personally involved, and have a certain mental distance from these events, which makes it easy for me to consider them over and done with. But my beloved Robin’s reactions each time Corwin or Bleys are mentioned, her obvious discomfort when under the scrutiny of Bleys at Amber, these are all reminders that these matters cannot be considered to be of no further importance. They must be remembered, and they must be considered, in future dealings with my elders, and with their children.And, just perhaps, they may be carefully used.
My First Time
His name was Roebuck.I was 15 years old, and had been a member of the Brotherhood of the Stag for almost a year. He was 17, and had failed the trials. Looking back now, I realize how that must have stung. No one spoke of favouritism aloud, but there were those ready to believe it. The rumors of my fondness for feminine pursuits such as books, politics, and religion, could only have added to the fire that burned within his heart when he saw me take a place he thought should be his. And no doubt he was only saying what others whispered in private, that my refusal to duel was caused by fear.
In truth, even by 15 I had realized how overmatched most of the other men of the Isles were in comparison to myself. Oh, I was not my father by any stretch of the imagination, but I was stronger and faster than any other man I knew, and my endurance was far and above what any of them could dream. Father had spoken of this to me in one of his infrequent visits, explaining that I must be careful not to take unfair advantage, not to allow myself to become a bully.
Perhaps I was too careful. If I had not striven to avoid all duels, if I had fought from time to time in anything other than practice, then Roebuck would not have spoken as he did. And I would not have been forced to act as I did.
But might-have-beens are useless. He did speak, he did publicly accuse me of cowardice, of fearing death. Once those words were spoken, I had no choice. One of us must die.
I thought carefully before the duel. And my decision, based on the best judgement a 15-year-old could make, was that his death must serve as an example to others, that I must so clearly outmatch him that no one else would make the same error he had made, and no other man of the Isles would need to die under my hand.
And so it was. I let him tire himself out upon a defense he could not penetrate, made it clear to all who watched that I could have slain him at any time, but chose not to. Instead, I waited, face without expression, no sense of hurry or concern in my form, until all around us had grown silent, and Roebuck himself finally fell to his knees, spent and unable to defend himself. And then I told him, "I would spare you if I could, but you understand that it cannot be."
He came to me that night, the wound over his heart bleeding still. He seemed unable to understand what had happened to him, and there was no forgiveness from him. Had I truly thought there would be? A romantic boy's fancy, that death would somehow be a cleansing balm to the misunderstandings of life. I know better now.
He came frequently at first, every night for the first week or so, and at least once a week for months thereafter. Never did he draw any closer to peace, never was there any sense of understanding, never was there any sense that his death had any meaning. His visits became less frequent as time passed, and it was not till the anniversary of his death that I realized he had not come for some time, and that perhaps I was finally free of him.
Or am I? Will I ever be completely free of him?
And should I be?
The Dragons of Calusa
What magnificent creatures! I doubt I shall ever truly understand them. Their inability, or refusal, to communicate directly with anyone other than their riders ensures that. And yet one can draw many conclusions about them from their riders. The way their riders speak of them, the clear affection in which they hold each other, this is in no way a master-servant relationship. It is far more akin to a partnership between equals. In fact, if there is any inequality at all in the relationship, I would hesitate to judge upon which side it lies.Their usefulness in my Mother’s war, however, has been less than I had hoped. Primarily this is due to a misunderstanding I made regarding the nature of Calusan culture. I thought of them as warriors, but they are not that. They are protectors, defenders, and asking them to attack, even in a just cause, risks turning them into something they are not, and something I would not have them become. I must see to it that they are freed from this war as soon as possible, even if the war has not ended. And that means that I must fulfill my promise that M’Corli be cured of his blindness. Another obligation. How they do stack up.
The Queen on the Throne of Stone
Of all the mysteries I have left unsolved, the one that remains the most cryptic is the identity of the Queen I saw in the cavern on the way to Rebma. Who could she have been, and was she from the distant past, the far future, or somewhere stranger yet? And is there truly a link between her and the Seaward myths of the Queen of Air and Darkness? I have come across that title before in poems and myths, and always they refer to a being of great power and hidden motives. Why did she appear to me? Or perhaps I should ask instead, why did I appear to her?
The Isles and Rebma
I am convinced that the Isles must reach outside themselves if they are to survive and grow. Rebma still seems the best partner to begin this process. The social structures are similar enough that the process of dealing with outsiders will be smoothed over, and contact with the more well-traveled Rebmans will gradually allow the Isles to come to accept that other worlds have differences that must simply be accepted. A relationship with Rebma will put the Isles in a junior position, of course, similar to the Golden Circle, yet that still has its own advantages. I trust my sister's ability to maintain the Isles' independence, even in the face of the truly formidable Queen of Rebma. She has dealt with my mother, after all, and the two women have much in common.
The Dead Must Wait
I regret being forced to walk away from the murders of Demond Harga'rel and Baroness Cornelia. While I did not promise either of them that I would personally bring their murderers to justice, I did offer to do what I could. Alas, that was nothing more than to give what small evidence I could discover to others. Still, I cannot help but wonder from time to time how the investigations proceed. Do political considerations prevent justice from being done? How did Martin react when his father told him what I had discovered? Has Conner been cleared, or is he still considered a suspect by Rebma? So many questions, and I have no leisure to turn any attention to them, nor am I likely to for a long time yet. I must let these matters go, and trust that others will see them through.Thoughts on the Spider
How could the Spider have so betrayed my Mother? Was I so wrong about her? Calculating, yes, and capable of cruelty if she thinks it needed. But in all the years I knew her I never questioned her loyalty.Answer: She thinks she is right. She believes my Mother is the one who has fallen away from the Goddess.
Can the Spider be redeemed? I do not know. And it is not my place to decide if she can be forgiven or not, that is for my Mother and Avis.
My Oath
This is the oath I swore before my father, when he proved stubborn on the matter of his healing. Never let it be said that I cannot be my father's son in impulsiveness and stubbornness when the mood takes me.My Elders
The Paresh
It is most annoying that my more pressing obligations have forced me to leave Amber without solving the mysteries of the Paresh. Where did they go? What became of the ship I sent to follow them? What is the link between them and the inhuman priests associated with Princess Pastoral? And is there truly an association with the city of Paris, as I suspect? So many questions, so few answers. Lucas seemed to be interested in what little information I could give him, I hope he will continue his investigations.