A Difficult Conversation
Late-Spring, Amber time
When I finally left the Red Room, I breathed a sigh of relief. The result had been closer than I had wished. In hindsight, three out of four of Gérard's supporters among the key players of my generation weren't that much of a surprise: his sons, and his soon-to-be son-in-law. But Tone's decision had disappointed me. Especially given Julian's reaction to his questions regarding Caine, and our least favourite uncle's oh-so-eloquent silence when I made my more direct query. However, I suppose the point of the whole proceedings was that we should vote with our consciences.
Shame Julian doesn't have one.
Note to self. I need to find actual evidence of his involvement with the murders perpetrated by Eric and Caine, beyond the fact that some of the bodies were buried in his lands.
It also bothered me, that Gérard had lied - or at least, bent his personal truth to make himself feel better - to Tone.
"As one of the infamous, half-blood princes, that your full brother helped round up and kill, and your mother continues to rail against; when did you know, and once you knew, what did you do with that knowledge?" my cousin had asked him.
"Ironic," my uncle had replied, "most half-Chaos princes were untouched; it was the human half-bloods who perished. Their Chaos relatives were too powerful."
But I had been there when some of the bodies were recovered. Cuthbert, son of Corwin, had likely been Chaos nobility. Manfred, son of Brand, bore Hendrake blood. Random's son Reggie was part Channicut. Deirdre's ill-fated teenagers, Gortmond and Winifred, had a Chaosian father. And my own brothers were all of Helgram descent, over and above grandmother Clarissa. In those cases, at least, it wasn't the human half-bloods who had died. It was Chaos half-breeds, just like the rest of us.
Gods preserve us if Gérard had come to power with Julian at his right hand.
"Hey Ian," came Wolf's voice from behind me as I walked down the corridor, lost in my thoughts, "wait up."
I stopped and turn towards him, pleased to see him.
"I was heading for my rooms," I answered, "fancy a drink?"
"Sure," he replied, and fell into step beside me.
He seemed on edge, although I have to admit I probably wasn't much better myself. Boy had it been too close. We walked in silence, and once inside my quarters, I made the effort to put up additional wards in the living room. It seemed time for that sort of precaution. As I did, Wolf grabbed a bottle of Armagnac and two glasses from the drinks cabinet, and put them on the table in front of the unlit fire. Then he poured and slid one over to me as I sat opposite him.
"So, Bleys is King Elect. Are you satisfied?" he asked, after we'd taken the first couple of sips of the warm amber liquid.
"Satisfied...not really. I'd hoped the margin would be better. Relieved, though, definitely. At least we now have someone to put our support behind. In that, I'm glad Dad and Gérard managed to come to terms."
"Assuming the likes of Rambault actually follow his father's lead."
"Rambault's certainly the wild card. Although I can't ignore the irony that the Heir Apparent of the man Julian was willing to support is yet another Chaos half-breed, just like the rest of us. And more to the point, is Duke Apparent to one of the more...unpleasant Houses. I'm not sure any of the rest of us are that close to power in our Chaos Houses, except maybe Jericho."
"My main worry is that his 'apparent' hatred of Bleys will actually force him into Random's camp," Wolf commented.
"If the gods give us any kind of break at this point, that won't happen."
But I had to admit to similar concerns myself. And in truth, I also found Rambault's insistence on holding up Dad's "treason" with Corwin and Fiona (which, like the validity of Eric's coronation, was really in the eye of the beholder) as cynical in the extreme, given that I was beginning to form suspicions that Gérard's son had actually fought with the Chaos forces which had attacked Amber.
"So how does it feel to be Crown Prince?" he asked, curious.
"Like I ought to buy myself a Mods t-shirt."
Wolf frowned, obviously not having the slightest idea what I was referring to.
"Mods and Rockers. Late-1960s and early-1970s."
"I was otherwise engaged, remember," he answered, a coolness in his tone and I realised I'd said the wrong thing.
"I'm sorry, Wolf," I said, trying to sound conciliatory, "that was thoughtless of me."
He paused a moment, taking a drink from his glass, and then gave a slight nod.
"Apology accepted...but I still don't understand the reference."
"The Mods chose the RAF roundel as their symbol. They put in on their clothes...their scooters...pretty much anything they were associated with..."
"Ah," he said with a nod, as the penny dropped, "take some advice. Don't go changing your wardrobe - someone might take it as an invitation if you do."
"Noted," I answered, with a chuckle, then became more serious, "anyway, the whole Crown Prince thing isn't definite. At best, right now, there's a Presumptive attached to that title."
"And the whole 'I name Ian as my heir. He will be heir to all the titles and lands I have. He is also heir to all the titles I may have in the future. Holy Unicorn be willing.' business, from when he brought the circus to town when he first came back to Amber?"
"Yeah, well. There was that."
I paused a moment, drinking from my own glass, then looked at him.
"You know, for a moment there, I wasn't sure which way you were going to jump."
"Trust me, it was a close run thing."
"Bleys is your grandfather."
"And I've met him all of twice. I don't know him the way you do. All I know is that he's patronised me on both occasions, and treated me as if I was younger than Tone. Hell, I get on better with Dieter."
"So I noticed," I commented, trying not to grit my teeth when I remembered the fact that of all the people in the Red Room, only Wolf and Geran had really talked to the man.
"On the other hand, my work with you in the City, especially during Random's coup, has given me a certain amount of respect for Gérard. He was a fair man, in a job he never really wanted."
"So why didn't you vote for him? I wouldn't have stopped you. I wouldn't have agreed with your decision, but it was yours to make. After all, you and I are pretty far enough off on politics as it is. For example, you know how I feel about Dieter, but I've never demanded that you cut ties with him."
"You've come close."
"Perhaps. But I've always stopped short."
"I suppose that's fair."
"So why did you ultimately back Bleys?"
"Four reasons. First and foremost, Julian."
"That one we can agree on, although I'm curious as to your take on it."
"You're a generation up from me. You've been here longer, and you've got to know the lay of the land. On the other hand, if Bleys sees me as a child, Christ knows how Julian would view me. An abomination born of another abomination, no doubt. Had Gérard won, Julian's presence that close to the Throne, on the basis of what he said to Edward and Tone, and didn't say to you, would have made sure that I cleared out my rooms and departed within the day."
"Believe me, I wouldn't have been far behind you. I just wish Gérard would cut him loose."
"We both know he's too sentimental to do that," he said, with a shrug, "it's his biggest flaw."
"Unfortunately," I sighed, "Two?"
"I don't really think Gérard wanted the job. I suspect he was pushed into it by Rambault. And with Random on the horizon, we need a King who is willing act like a King. It isn’t a job to go into half-assed. Of course, Bleys's initial reaction to Edward's question in that regard wasn't exactly definitive. However, as others brought it up again, he became more positive, which eventually convinced me."
"Three?"
"Bleys answered the question I asked him to my satisfaction."
"Are you going to tell me what it was?"
"That's not really your business," he said, with a look on his face which almost dared me to argue, but I let it pass, "although if he reneges on his promise, trust me, that also means you won't see much of me in Amber anymore. After all, it's not like I have a job here or anything, unlike you."
"That may change."
"Depending on what my status here is."
"You're a Prince of Amber, and my heir."
"But you and mama weren't married, which makes my birthright within the family about as clean as Eric's or Caine's."
"That's not true," I answered.
"Why? You never legitimised me under my real name."
"Only because you didn't want me to. I was always willing."
"Your mother wasn't."
"No, but she isn't here. And you are legitimate now, in the eyes of Tenterden. But if it suddenly bothers you that much, I'll make sure it gets done, here in Amber, at the first possible opportunity, so you know I mean it."
"Thus making me second in line."
"It's the price you'll have to pay. Assuming Dad ever actually gets Crowned and solidifies his power base. But if you're willing to do it, then I am."
"I'll think about it," he answered, cautiously.
"You said there were four reasons. What's the fourth?"
"I was afraid you'd be angry."
"Why?"
"Anger between us has caused problems in the past."
"And we both swore to never let it happen again," I answered, suddenly not entirely sure where he was going, "that's back to us having different politics and full disclosure with each other."
He paused a moment, then shrugged again, but something felt off...maybe it was his body language, as he poured himself another drink. He seemed tense...uncertain. We drank in silence for a couple of minutes, the only sound in the room coming from the ticking of the carriage clock on the mantelpiece, before he broke the quiet.
"Mihai, tell me honestly. Is this what you wanted?"
"That's not an easy question to answer."
"Do you think Bleys is the right candidate?"
"Yes...as long as he has the hunger for the job. I certainly agree with you there. Gérard would have come with the baggage of Julian, Caine and Eric, and how much he did or didn't know of their actions. And yes, Bleys has his own baggage, but at least he hasn't had a dark and bloody career murdering kith and kin."
"But you don’t like what that means for you here?"
"I never asked to be Crown Prince, Wolf...even Presumptive Crown Prince, or whatever the Hell I am just now. I'm happy working in the shadows, or just teaching others. I love Tenterden, and I miss having a normal life. Unlike most of my cousins, I'm just not that interested in accumulating money, power and titles."
"And yet you've now potentially got the second-highest title in Amber; you've been building a strong power base in the City; and you've taken your studies of ritual magic - which let's be honest, is a form of power in and of itself - way beyond anything I even thought was possible, either within or outside the Group."
"To point one, it was Bleys or Gérard. Do you really think Dad would ever have forgiven me if I'd gone the other way? Of all of us, Rambault and I, and possibly Walter, were the ones who didn't really have a choice which mast we nailed our colours to."
"True enough," he admitted, grudgingly.
"To point two, someone had to take an interest in the City after the riots, Oberon obviously decided I was the one, and I was happy to do so. And moreover, there's no guarantee that if Bleys does get to be King, I will still be Lord Mayor, or Home Secretary, or anything else except chief target and bottle washer. And to point three...okay, I admit it, I don't have a good answer to point three."
"Where did you learn?"
"Honest truth? I've been making it up most of it as I go along."
"Christ, Mihai. Blowing up Rebma was making it up as you went along? How scared are your cousins of you?"
"Not particularly, as far as I'm aware."
"Perhaps they should be."
"I suppose time will tell on that one."
I broke off, taking a drink and looking over at him again. He still seemed ill at ease.
"What's bothering you?"
"I'm sitting here hoping to God that I'm not going to have to die for him."
I stared at him, startled.
"Excuse me?"
"Oh come on. Don't tell me you haven't thought about it? Slayer and Slain. Binding the new King to the land? Rufus and Tyrell."
"Gods, Wolf. I really hope we've both done our fair share of that in this life."
"And yet we're both still alive."
"Thank the powers that be - and your other grandfather - for that," I answered, downing my glass and pouring another, more shaken by the subject than I cared to admit.
"Neither of us has done it for Bleys."
"No. But we're not the only ones of his blood."
"We're the only ones still alive - unless you count Armand or Thorsten. Would you offer one of my sons, instead?"
I paused for a moment, covering it with a drink while deciding how much more to say, before continuing.
"There are others."
"Really?" he answered, obviously sceptical, "who?"
"I've told you about your Uncle John before."
"Your twin? When you first talked about him, you didn’t go into details. I wasn’t sure if you were talking past or present tense. So I suppose I don’t really think of him in the mix."
"Well, now you’ve met him."
"And he was a lot like you, at least in appearance."
"Not in personality, though - to me he seems way younger. I think Dad’s protected him more closely. Or maybe that’s just me being old and cynical, and envying him the chance to have grown up peacefully," I answered, then paused before adding "and you also have two half-brothers."
He looked at me, obviously trying to read me to see if I was telling the truth. There were reasons I hadn't told him about them. Hell, I'd hardly told anyone.
"Who?"
"They're called Richard and Geoffrey."
"The City Militia and Police commanders?" he answered, more quickly than I might have thought possible.
"How did you...?"
"Policeman, remember," he answered, but this time, his expression didn't have its usual trace of humour as he said it.
"When?"
"During Random's coup. I worked with both of them and I wondered why they seemed familiar, even though I knew I'd never met them before. It was only afterwards that I realised they reminded me of...me. Why didn't you tell me about them earlier?"
"I haven't really made a big thing of it with anyone."
"Why?"
"They were placed in Amber by Oberon, for protection, at the height of the Eric/Caine purges. That's something I truly have to thank him for, or they would have gone the way of Henry and the others. But it means they have family here. Their own lives from before I ever came on the scene. What right do I have to take that from them? Especially after what happened this evening."
"Any idea who their mother is?"
"None at all - and I can't think of a good way of finding out, because I wouldn't have the slightest idea where to start looking. Maybe the details are in Oberon's records somewhere, but I haven't seen them."
"But you're working with them."
"Professionally, yes."
"Do they know you're their biological father?"
"Yes, and I have given them my word that I will say nothing more for their safety, unless they choose otherwise."
"And yet you bring them up now," he pointed out, as he refilled his own glass, "them, and John. Perhaps you're planning to sacrifice one of them for Bleys, instead of me?"
"Get this into your head, Wolf," I snapped, slightly annoyed at his fatalism, "I'm not planning to sacrifice anyone for my father. You mentioned Rufus and Tyrell before, but this isn't the same situation. Bleys is Oberon's son. He comes of the established line, and after Corwin, who has firmly absented himself, he is probably the one with the best claim on legitimacy and the closest thing to Oberon's blessing that any of his generation had. And even if that weren't enough, the blood of his line has been spilled in Amber before."
"Your lost brothers...the Plantagenets."
"If you want to call them that."
"Did you ever find out how or where they died?"
"At least one of them, the youngest - Henry - was put to death in Amber City. Beheaded. And while I mourn his loss, that doesn't stop me hoping that Bleys's potential ascension, coupled with what happened to my brother, means that the cup will pass from us this time around."
"Biblical terms, eh?" he said, mildly, "you had thought about this before...and it worries you."
"How could it not. But I hadn't realised you had."
"How could I not?" he echoed, with a shrug, "we're both Karma's bitches on this. It was the first thing that sprang to mind when you told me Bleys was seriously going to try for the Throne."
I sighed, looking over at him with regret.
"Tell me honestly," he said, quietly, "do you think the combination of an established line and Henry's death is enough?"
"I truly hope so."
"If it isn't, you'd better be bloody well sure that it's worth the cost. Because I don't fancy dying for a man who still might not live up to my expectations."
"I don't fancy you dying, at all," I said, firmly, "and I'll fight to make sure it doesn't happen."
"Ah, Mihai. I hope you get the choice."
"There's always a choice."
"This time? With you one step from the highest throne in reality? I wouldn't be so sure."
"Not happening, Wolf."
"You have no idea how much I want you to be right," he answered, with a sigh, and then drained his glass, "it's been a long day. I should probably be going."
"At least you don't have to go far," I replied, standing as he did. He’d finally been given quarters after the coup, and was lodged down the hall when he was in town.
"True enough," he said, with a weak smile. Then he reached out and clasped my wrist firmly, pulling me towards him and slapping my shoulder in farewell, before releasing me.
"We'll work this out," he said, quietly.
"We'd better bloody had," I answered, as I dropped the wards, "in my book, Dad becoming King of Amber is way less important to me than your continued health and wellbeing."
"Mihai, anyone would think you cared," he said, and I finally saw a trace of a smile on his features, before he turned on his heel and headed for the door.
"You have no idea," I said, quietly, as the door closed behind him, before I sat back down and poured myself another drink, memories of Halloween 1980 foremost in my mind.