Flying Lessons and Beer
Eagle Island, Late-July Amber time
Flight.
I've always loved the concept, which was why I'd originally got myself a pilot's licence. But the lure of truly flying with the birds, if only once in my life, has always been with me. Which I suppose is why I'd been stubborn about the golden ring we'd found in the place that was so nearly, and yet not quite, Hradcany Castle. I hadn't been my intention to anger Andrés, but the possibility of actually being able to soar on my own wings was enough to make me stand my ground.
Eagle Island seemed to be the perfect place to try it. Inspired by the game lodges I'd stayed in in South Africa, since I'd purchased it, almost a year ago now, I'd been working on renovating it into a high-end fishing and sailing resort, with wild areas for walking and riding, a small stable, and a little fleet of fishing boats. The logistics had been interesting, given that everything had to be either shipped, Trumped or teleported in, but I'd given as much of the work as I could - from painting, to carving, to making furniture - to people from Amber, the Amber City Duchy and Chippenham, and paid fair wages and fair prices, and my intention was to continue to do so. I'd even agreed a contract with a local boatman, to provide a daily ferry service from the mainland to bring anyone who might actually want to visit.
The resort was fully refurbished now, and would be opening to the public in a couple of weeks, but the idea of Marina and I having a belated honeymoon there, before it opened when it would be just us, had truly appealed. It also gave me the chance to just get out of Amber - the occasional coffee aside - and clear my head, after finally reaching my decision not to support Bleys any further, with the added benefit that I could avoid having to be around for the Coronation.
I'd put aside part of the ground floor of the main lodge for my own use: a suite comprising a double bedroom about 20' x 30', including a king-sized bed; a good sized bathroom with a hot tub; a smaller guest bedroom, which would probably end up as the nursery for the twins; and a well-appointed lounge of about the same size as the bedroom, with a small kitchen/diner area off to the side. Both the lounge and the master bedroom looked out onto the sea, and had French windows onto the deck I'd built outside, so we could sit out there when it was fine.
Marina wasn't doing too badly, but being five months pregnant was beginning to take its toll on her. Amber time, she was probably due late-November early-December, depending on how much messing with time flow I did between Tenterden and Amber in the meantime. However, the Amber heat - even though the humidity was a lot lower out in the islands than back in town - meant that she had usually taken a nap in the afternoon since we'd been there, and while she was sleeping seemed like a perfect time to indulge my desire to fly.
I genuinely have no idea of the mechanics of changing shape. I know it can be done. I've even done it once, by accident - when I walked the proto-Logrus. But how I did it, I have no clue. Did your clothes change with you? Did they end up ripped if you grew, or puddled around you if you shrank? How much did you remember? Were you still yourself, or did your mind change to that of the creature whose form you were in? I wanted to try. It was as simple as that.
I made sure she was sleeping, and then opened the French doors onto the deck and put on the ring. The best fit was on the second finger of my right hand. Then I went into a trance and felt for the magic within it. Almost immediately, it was blazing before me, and I could see what I needed to do to trigger the effect. I reached out and activated it, and suddenly felt myself becoming smaller. It was unnerving, and a little painful, but at least it was quick.
I tried to move forward, and ended up nearly losing my balance. I stretched out my arms to help stabilise me - but of course they weren't arms any more. That took some getting used to, but eventually I managed to balance - martial arts training does help you understand where every part of your body is, even if your body is suddenly smaller and feathered apparently. Then I looked around me, to see how I could see. Good colour vision, check; good 3D vision, check. At which point I caught sight of my reflection in the floor length mirror on the wardrobe. I recognised the shape and markings instantly. A sparrowhawk. Just like my Temple name. I seemed a little bigger than a normal specimen, but not unnaturally so. Of my clothes, there was no sign.
I heard Marina stir on the bed and decided to head outside, so as not to disturb her. I tried to walk out onto the deck, which took a bit of doing, and then attempted to fly. I worked on the same theory as I would with a plane, aligned myself with the wind, and tried to take off. It wasn't as easy as it looked. Half a dozen goes later, I managed to flap up onto the rail surrounding the deck, and had come to the conclusion that this was not as easy as it seemed.
However, I puzzled it through - apparently my cognitive functions were still human, rather than birdbrained - and ten minutes later, I achieved lift-off. It wasn't the most graceful of take-offs, but at least I managed to gain height and find the thermals. At which point I let my new body have rein, on the theory that it probably had a better idea of what to do than I did. Soon I was soaring upwards, and I could feel the wind in my feathers.
It was everything I'd dreamed of.
I swooped high and low over the island - which at something over 20 miles square was a decent amount of land for a novice sparrowhawk - feeling truly free, the blood coursing through me. I also realised that my hunting instincts had kicked in, and I started looking for prey. On the ground, a grey bird the size of a thrush caught my eye, and I found myself diving towards it, but that was harder than it looked, too. It flew away before I reached it, but I didn't mind. The thrill had been the thing. Mind you, it had used a lot of energy, and I realised that my avian form was feeling decidedly peckish. I took height again, and then looked around for other prey. Eventually, after a couple more failed attempts, I took a small, brown bird, and let my hawk-self go as it ripped into it with pleasure.
Finally, I felt sated. I also had no idea how long I'd been roaming for and realised I should be getting back. I took wing once more, and headed back to the Resort, landing on the railing around the deck. In the bedroom, I could see that Marina had stirred, and I could hear the shower. I made my way into the bedroom - thankfully she'd left the French window open - and then changed back once I was inside. My clothes came back, but I felt hot and dirty, and decided that Marina had a good idea. I stripped off, crossed to the bathroom door and went inside.
* * * * * *
A couple of very pleasant hours later, I was sitting on the deck, looking out over the water and enjoying the sea breeze, when I felt the stirring of a Trump call. I opened up the contact to Wolf, who looked decidedly perturbed.
"Beer?" I asked, before he could say anything. I stood and offered my hand, and he stepped through.
I doubt beer was actually what he had in mind, but he accepted one anyway and I ordered up two tankards of one of the Beckk's brews, which I'd contracted for the hotel. Then he sat the opposite side of the table from me. Like the majority of the other furniture around the hotel, I'd commissioned the patio set from a contact I had in the City, so the wood of the table was smooth and the chairs were comfortable. And I could cover them up when the rains came in so they wouldn't take harm.
I could guess why he was here, so I sipped my beer, and waited for him to say what he wanted to say. He didn't launch into me immediately, which I took as positive, instead sitting and enjoying his own brew for a few minutes first.
"What were you thinking?" he said, finally.
He didn't sound cross, exactly, but he was obviously surprised that I'd taken the step I had without giving him a head's up. The trouble was, I hadn't wanted him to try to talk me out of it.
"I was tired of lying to myself that he was the right man for the job," I answered.
"How much of what you said in the statement did you actually mean?"
"All of it."
"So this isn't you just lashing out at him because of Kaylen and Melanie?"
"I won't deny that's what tipped the balance. But it certainly isn't the only reason, no. Before he became King, various people - including Oberon - told me not to be too hard on him, because he's been through a lot in his life. And I tried, I really tried. Hell, losing at least five children can't be easy. I see that. The trouble is, he's not been in my life enough for me to ever really develop a relationship with him - the two years in Shadow aside, which he then spoilt by buggering off for thirty years - and he's made it very clear that he has neither the time, nor the inclination, to start now.
After the funeral, and the thing with Andrés - learning he was Melanie's son as well - I realised that I couldn't do it anymore. I'd had enough of lying to myself that he might change. I'd had enough of his evasions, and his secrets, and his obsession with parties and palaces, and as far as I can see, his complete lack of care for the people of Amber, unless they happen to have the surname Helgram.
A King needs respect for his people, and his people need to have respect for their King. When that falls apart, everything goes to Hell: Charles I and the French Revolution being two obvious examples. But I'm not seeing that respect in either direction with Bleys. He seems incapable of realising that there's more to being a King than just being sat on the biggest chair in the Kingdom.
He's the wrong man for the job. It just took me this long to admit it to myself...to break out of being the dutiful son and actually look at what he's doing."
I paused, and sipped my beer, then looked at him.
"But then, you've always known that, haven't you. That's why you nearly voted for Gérard in the first place."
"I didn't know Bleys at all - you'd at least spent those two years with him, even if he pretty much dumped you once he was bored - but what little I'd seen of him hadn't inspired confidence. Although in fairness, he has kept to his side of the deal with the question I asked him. However, I thought you respected him, and cared for him, and in my mind Gérard came with one major problem that would always be an issue."
"Julian."
"Exactly. So I voted with you."
"Right now, I might almost stomach Julian - who at least cares for Amber, even if he seems to hate most of the Family - as the price for having Gérard on the throne. At least Gérard has a track record, and while I still have reservations about how involved he was in the murders of my siblings and the other cousins, right now he'd do a far better job than the man currently sitting on the Throne."
"But Gérard doesn't want it."
"Bleys spent a lot of time saying he didn't want it either. But he changed his tune when he was challenged about it by Edward, and took it when he could. And I remember you and I both thinking at the time that at least at least he sounded like someone wasn't going to go into the job half-assed, so we had someone to rally behind with Random causing trouble."
"Which wasn't unreasonable, given his military reputation. Especially, the whole fighting up Kolvir and nearly making it thing," Wolf commented, "But maybe we shouldn't have looked any further than the fact that he turned up to stake his claim with a train of elephants and acrobats to realise what sort of King he'd be."
"Sadly, you're probably right," I answered.
"Twenty/twenty hindsight is a wonderful thing, Mihai."
He raised his tankard, and we chinked, then drank in silence for a bit, looking out over the sea. Once those were gone, I ordered up two more pints.
"This is a beautiful spot," he commented, finally.
"I like it. I hope this place will make a go of it, but even if it doesn't, I'll still keep it and come out here myself, or with the family. And you're always welcome to visit - there's a transfer stone in the lounge. Just call ahead."
"So what are you going to do now? Presumably not become a full-time hotelier."
"Given that against all logic, common sense and rules of Medieval succession he's actually left me with my ranks, privileges and positions in Amber, including being Lord Mayor, I'll carry on as I was. I'm moving out of the Palace and into the Mansion House, but apart from that...I still feel as if I have a job to do in Amber City, and I will still support Amber as a nation and do what I believe is best for it. But I'm not going to dance blindly to his tune anymore."
"You sound surprised that so little has changed. What did you actually expect him to do?"
"You know your history as well as I do. In Medieval and Renaissance society, crown princes - any nobleman come for that - who publicly criticised their monarch usually ended up executed, jailed, exiled or sent into wars they couldn't win. Of course Death Curses mean the first of those options wasn't open to Bleys. But the rest were..."
I broke off as I heard footsteps behind me, and Marina came out onto the decking, holding a long cool glass of fruit punch.
"There you are, Miska," she said, then registered my companion, "Hello Wolf."
She put her glass down on the table and crossed to him. He stood and gave her a suitably step-sonly hug. They seem to be easier with each other since Marina and I were introduced to the shotgun, but then, having been happily married for twenty-five years, he'd never really understood why we didn't do it before. Then he sat back down and she took the chair beside me, kissing me as she did.
"Come to talk to your father about his small act of rebellion?" she asked him.
"It's not that small," Wolf answered, "how is the Golden Circle going to take it I wonder? Or even the rest of the family? Bleys's Crown Prince basically saying Bleys is not up to the job."
"As far as I can see, the Family has shown a complete lack of interest.," I answered, "Geran came and checked to see I was okay. I bumped into a couple of the others in town, but they didn't even mention it. And other than that, the only person who actually seems to have really processed what I've done, is Tone."
"He's one of the dark horses in your generation. He sees a lot more than many people realise."
"I know. And I like and respect him for it..." I paused, and turned to Marina, "I should introduce you sometime. He's the head of the Unicorn Church."
"Before, I imagine I would have met him when your father was setting up his parade plans to celebrate our wedding. I wonder if that'll even happen now."
"Truth to tell, I neither know nor care. He's the one who loves parades, and the limelight, and parties. That's not me. Sometimes I wonder if my father wasn't misidentified at birth. He and I are nothing alike, and that was becoming more and more apparent as we tried to work together."
"I'm not sure if that's true," Wolf commented, "I think you're actually a lot alike underneath. Which of course might be the problem. From what little I've seen of him, he, like you, is prone to his emotions - something I've inherited from you both in full measure. You just have different coping methods. His is to go all out extrovert, hiding any real feelings under the good-time guy mask. Yours is to drown your sorrows in a bottle of vodka and hate the world."
"Mine's a lot cheaper," I commented.
"Now that, I can't deny," he said with a chuckle, then looked at Marina, "How's grandfather taking it? After all, he thought he was marrying his daughter to the Crown Prince of Amber..."
"He wasn't pleased when I told him," she answered, "but more because of any potential destabilisation effect it might have on Bleys's reign. The idea of Rilga's kids getting the Throne fills him with dread, which is why he's supporting Ian's father."
Then she turned to me and kissed me lightly on the forehead.
"But I think, in his way, he respects you for telling the truth. And you're still not that bad a catch: heir to House Helgram, with all your Amber titles intact."
"On that subject, Mihai. Are you even sure he's accepted your renunciation as Crown Prince?" Wolf asked.
"I assume he has."
"I read the Royal Office statement. The exact words were that it 'has received Prince Ian's renunciation of his claim to the Amber succession'. Accepted isn't anywhere in there."
"No, but it's implied in the Helgram bit: 'unless his renunciation is extended, he is still heir to the Grand Duchy of Helgram'."
"So he still thinks you're his heir, even if you don't," Marina answered, "Maybe Bleys is just hoping that this is a reaction to the tensions over your brothers and sisters, which came to a head with Melanie? Maybe he hopes that once you calm down, it will be business as usual."
"If that's the case, he's going to be disappointed," I answered, "I meant every word. I thought them out very carefully."
"Frivolous buffoon might have gone a bit far..." Wolf commented, chuckling.
"It's better than the first draft, which included such gems as 'Enjoy your reign. I hope it's short', 'I apologise to the Amber people for helping to inflict this arsehole on them' and 'I hope you choke on the Crown'."
"That really would have burned bridges," Wolf said, his expression suddenly more serious, "So maybe subconsciously, you didn't want to do that either."
"Or maybe I'm getting better at politics. And who knows, maybe some miracle will occur and he'll actually realise what being King really entails, and knuckle down and do it. If he does, I may reconsider."
"Do you think you'll ever come to good terms with him?" Marina asked.
"I don't know," I answered, "not unless something major changes. Maybe if he'd just stayed plain old Prince Bleys and never claimed the Throne, I could have kept up the pretence of giving a damn what happened to him. But he didn't.
"Out of interest, any idea what my status is now?" Wolf said, looking over at me.
"I genuinely have no clue. As far as I'm concerned, I'm no longer Crown Prince, so theoretically, as I only excluded myself from the succession, and nothing in the Royal Office statement went against that, that probably technically means you are."
"Thanks a bloody bunch."
"Don't sell yourself short. You're known, and respected, at least in certain quarters, and you'd probably do a better job of it than me, because you're a generation removed from my major bone of contention."
"Your siblings," Marina said, quietly.
"Exactly. Well, that and the whole profligate idiot who's trying to emulate Louis XVI thing."
"I think in his mind he thinks of himself more as Louis XIV," Wolf commented.
"Which succinctly describes the problem. I also said that it was up to you if you accepted it...if that's even where it stands right now. Personally, unless he does something at the Coronation, I think he'll probably stay mum, say nothing, and let God sort it out...or try to wait me out and hope I'll come back into the fold."
"So the Oberon principle then?"
"Pretty much. I guess the other option, is he actually admits that he would prefer John to be his heir, and writes all of us out of the succession," I suggested, "Trouble is, that's a Hell of a lot of us - you, your...what, seven kids?...Artur. Pretty much his entire line except for John, who seems resolutely childless. And you know, if he does cut us out, even if you and I don't want the job, I could see Armand taking issue with him, if he thought he had a decent chance. Once he's older, and wiser, and has the skills to back it up."
"I suspect you might be right. And I'd probably back him if he did, assuming you really are out of things."
"I am in my mind. His, who knows? Right now, though, as far as I'm concerned, you're my heir, you follow me, and you have a bloody good claim if you want it. And as for what actually happens, time will tell."
"On the subject of Armand, by the way, he's got an idea he wants to run by you."
"Yes?"
"Some kind of private security firm, which we can use as a military resource. He doesn't want to be a diplomat, he wants to be a soldier, and he's seriously talking about resigning his commission on Tenterden to get it set up."
"It mightn't be a bad idea, and he'd certainly be competent to do that. Currently we're pretty much dependent on House Brand troops for the kind of off-the-books missions that Matthew drags us out on, which is a level of reliance I'm not that comfortable with. And when I saw him the other day, it was obvious that the desk job was driving him slowly crazy. What about Germania?"
"Sorry to disappoint you, but he has no intention of resigning his commission on Germania."
Beside me, I could see that Marina was far happier to hear that than I was.
"He likes the place," Wolf continued, "and likes the status he has there. At heart, he's a bit of a glory hound."
"He has the looks and personality to pull it off, too," Marina commented, then looked surprised at our reaction. Then she smiled. "Maybe I have a different perspective on these things to you two old men, but take it from me, Wolf. Your son is cute, and smart, and charming as Hell, and don't be surprised when your first grandchild comes on the scene."
From Wolf's reaction, it was clear that he wasn't sure whether to be whether to be proud, insulted or worried.
"Still, being a glory hound can be dangerous," I commented, diverting the subject, "he nearly got himself killed in Herzog."
"What?" Wolf said, staring at me.
"Don't worry. It was nothing that couldn't be fixed: you've seen him since, by the sound of it, so you know that. He did something stupid, but he'll learn from it. Experience is the only way we discover that we are only functionally immortal, not indestructible."
"He should have told me."
"He was probably embarrassed," Marina commented, and I figured she was almost certainly right.
"If he's serious about this private security thing, I'm happy to give him whatever he needs," I said to Wolf.
"I'll let him know," he answered. He had another pull of his beer, than looked back over at me, "Are you happy?"
"Actually, yes. Not having to lie to myself any more is a great relief. And I have a beautiful wife, and you, and Armand, and Artur. So while I have no idea whether the good feelings will last once I go back to work, right now..."
"Are you planning on staying out here long?"
"A week, maybe two, depending on how things go. We didn't get a honeymoon, so we're taking advantage of having some time together."
"Before I'm too much of a whale to enjoy it anymore," Marina said, with a smile, and I reached over and stroked her hair.
"It also means I don't have to be in Amber for the Coronation, which would suite me fine. Are you going?"
"Probably. But I'll see. But for now, I should leave you lovebirds to it."
"You don't have to. This is a hotel - there's plenty of room."
"I have stuff to do. I just wanted to check in with you. Make sure you were still breathing."
"That I am. For now at least."
With that he finished his beer and then dug his Trump deck out of his pocket. I saw him shuffle out Armand's card, and put it on top. As he stood, Marina and I also got to our feet.
"Travel safe," she said, and moved round the table and gave him a hug.
"I will. And please, make sure he doesn't do anything quite so...exciting...again. At least not for a few weeks."
"I'll do my best," she answered, and stepped aside so I could say goodbye to him.
"See you soon, and let me know what Armand decides about his idea."
"I will."
And then he concentrated on Armand's card, and was gone.