Rinaldo's Tale: Lyre

	Despite my mother, Jasra, and all of the trials and tribulations I have suffered for her opportunism, I am still fairly fond of redheads.  That's why I noticed her at first.  Sweet face, green eyes, kind of looked a little like she could be my sister.  She wore a velvet red dress with a modest collar, and sat in front with the kind of self-assurance that was fairly out of place for her delicacy.  I favored her with a grin, putting a little bit of heat in it as she answered me with one of her own.  I was rewarded with a faint blush that came over her features.  I suppressed my laugh, but kept the smile.
	The room filled slowly, as was the nature of such a reception.  I spent my time keeping in her line-of-sight, althought I did have some of my regular folowers (I thought of them as demonic groupies, with all that that entails) to greet and share reminiscence.  I caught sight of a shroudling in the midst, and lost track of the woman as I gestured the bouncers to give warning.
	She was there again, this time drinking something fruity and vulgar, and watching me.  I delierately took some time away from the crowd to check the tuning of my instrument, straight across from her chair.  The attention did not seem to bother her, as she leaned back and crossed her legs, as if amused by a private show.
	Indeed.
	There was something fey about her, and not just the point of her chin, or the brightness of her eyes.  I got the edgy feeling that I did know her, and that she was here for more than a musical performance.  My mental shields reinforced themselves, although since I was 9 and trying to hide from my mother that I could coerce sweets from the cook, I had never truly let them down.
	A crooked smile crossed her features just long enough for me to notice.  My smile was suddenly lost in apprehension.  Who could she be?
	The first set went well; it was Martin's idea to mix the classical ballads of the Courts into rock themes.  Despite the fact that what I was playing was closer to a lyre than a guitar, and it was magically amplified, it wouldn't have sounded too out of place in my dorm room or in the Council Chambers, although it would have raised Bances' ire.  Of course, my mere presence did that, so it would be hard to determine how much I could blame on the music.
	The woman rose up from the audience as I left the stage.  I made a beeline for the refreshment table.  There's something to safety in numbers; I might be assassinated in a crowd, but the embarrassment of an emotional scene might be denied me, for once. 
	She was right next to me in a minute, and I passed her a glass of the potent red liqueur that Suhuy likes so much.  She seemed amused by teh choice, and I wondered what facet of my luck had chosen something significant to this stranger.
	"You are a decent artist, but your drummer needs to be replaced," she opened up her conversation.  I agreed with her.  Martin had as well, but I was still perversely annoyed by her observation.
	"Talk to the manager," I said.  I hadn't meant to sound sullen, but something about her tone gave me definite Jasra vibes.  Her tongue seemed normal enough, but maybe all redheaded women were the same under the skin.
	"I will," she suggetsed, playfully.  She drank slowlly, allowing for more of the taste.  I preferred my drunkenness to hit quick and fast, but it was her liquor.  I looked around to see if rescue was on its way I did not like the look her green eyes gave me.
	Before I could hook myself into a passing conversation, she spoke again.  "You look like your father, Rinaldo."  She said it in a sigh, and looked away for a moment.
	Rinaldo?  My senses sharpened.  No one was really paying attention to me for a moment.  "The name is Luke," I said, firmly.  I put a little magical underscore on it.
	She broke the emphasis with a laugh, effortlessly.  -Save your strength, boy.-  The words came from a mental voice that was deeper and more sultry, but definitely hers.  She raised her glass towards me with a bit of a sardonic smile, and then drank deeply, watching me over its rim with green eyes the same color as my father's.
	"What do you want?"  I asked it q uickly.  You might consider it a foolish question, but I know people.  When they play the enigma game, they want someone to puzzle it out.  At the same time, they relish telling the poor contestant in detail.  If it gave me the answers without having to play the game, it was worth looking a little foolish.
	"Oh, I am having a delightful time," she said, as if answering a completely unrelated q uestion.  She waved her drink about slightly, as if a bit tipsier than she should be.  "It's my anniversary, you see.  I wanted to go dancing," she giggled, and it seemed appropriate, and yet... "But I heard about this performance and I had to come.  I had to meet you."
	I saw where her eyes had not gone.  She was speaking for the benefit of an audience, in this case, the Lady Belissa Minobee.  "Would you like me to sign an autograph?" I asked, hiding the sarcasm in an effective slow drawl.
	"On, no, where would I put it?" she asked, shrugging and spilling a bit of the liqueur.  "Oops.  I guess I need to go to the little demon queen's room," she covered her mouth, looking embarrassed.  "I hope I'm in time to hear you play again," she said, sounding like a wistful teenager.  I was about to say something else when she fled.
	Dara hovered over my shoulder like a vulture.  "Odd," she whispered into my ear.
	I frowned.  "Greetings, Princess Dara, Keeper of the Logrus-in-training, Duchess of Sawall--"
	She cut me off.  "Shush.  I thought I recognized your admirer for a moment."  She shrugged.  "Shadows come and go, I suppose.  Or if she was a shifter, it was in poor taste."
	"Who did you think she was?" I asked, carefully.
	"An enemy.  Always an enemy."  She smiled then, and I could se that she fashioned a few extra sets of teeth.  I didn't hasten to reminder her that in her position, almost anyone was an enemy.  It was like Mom; if she hadn't alienated half of known Shadow, the other half was after her about SOMETHING.
	Dara was quickly distracted, and it was time to get back, so I didn't pursue it.  If I had a nickel for every time something unusual happened that I couldn't follow up on, they'd be ubiquitous in Shadow.
	The little demon queen's room.  Huh.  Clever.
	"Once lords of the living void," I sang into the microphone, trying to put as much as possible into my voice to sound like the opening sermons of the Book of the Serpent.  I could hear the drums begin like a patter of rain buiding up to a thunderstorm.  Jurt and Jarrez made decent harmon behind me, as we sang the ballad of the shadow tempests.  It takes some fancy fingering and that distracted me from looking up at the redhead.
	All for the best, I'm sure.  Something about her got distinctly uder my collar, and I was feeling a little flushed.  I thought about calling an early break, but then the music tumbled into a roar of sound, and I was caught int he passion.  Hitting every note right in the music reminded me of programming; the perfection when an equation performed perfectly, giving me the requested data.  It's a lot the same with magic, that feeling of satisfaction that comes with having something beautifully finished.
	My father...I was distracted while Jarrez sang the a cappella bit about the changing of sea and sky and stone.  You can see it in his art; my father never found that exquisite satisfaction.  For him, there may have been peace only in death.
	That brought me back to the final chorus, about the bringing of sensation, and we were done again.  The next song was a dark love song about a love lost to the Abyss.  It felt a little too close to home, but I gave it my best shot.
	The audience didn't want to leave, and that was a good sign, but we were sweaty and exhausted.  Jarrez offered to take everything down and bring a filmy by later.  Jurt got caught up in a discussion with his mother, and the redhead wasn't anywhere to be seen.  Hmmm.  Neither was Belissa.
	I decided to freshen up a bit before helping Jarrez out some.  Part of my intention was, of course, to go by the "little demon queen" room and just check out my suspicions.
	I love being right.  I hid myself just far enough to need a cantrip of hearing enhancement.
	"I am of no adversary to Hendrake."  It was High Court, not Thari.  Interesting.  Only diplomats, rooyalty, and the children of each learned High Court anymore.  That narrowed down the list significantly, but I still couldn't place her.
	"What of Helgram? Or Chanicut? Or Amblerash?"  The sarcasm was so thick and cutting it was almost a word of power.  Belisa, of course.  I sometimes wondered if Belissa had some sort of aura of condescension she had learned from antisocial creatures of power.
	The other woman spoke the ancient phrase of hospitality.  It had an almost physical chill, freezing the fire of the previous sarcasm.  "Besides, I have come for my own," the voice continued.  A surge of power followed it.  It was a dismissal, but it begged questions.  I found myself moving aside and out of eavesdropping range.  A compulsion?  Probably.
	I went the other way, whistling the chorus to a blasphemous song about Dworkin being the result of a coupling of Unicorn and Serpent.
	The first thing I did once I got back to the Ways was to reinforce my shields.  I swore blisteringly.  How did she get into my head that fast with that simple a spell?  I was going to blame it on a weakness for women, but the most dangerous people I knew were female.  Gilva, Frakir, Dara, heck, mom, too.
	I added the unknown redhead to the list.  If she was that powerful, why was she on my case?  My mind was spinning.  Ah.  She mentiond my father.  She knew my name.
	I shuffled out some Trumps.
	-Mom?-  I go the dizzying feeling of a very long distance Trump connection.  She was still anchored in some layer of Order, then.  A cliff overlooking a wall of flame was her backdrop, as she turned to me.
	-Luke.  I trust this isn't a pleasure call?-  I saw uniforms and weapons.  Well, at least she wasn't in prison again.
	I described the woman I had met.  I watched my mother's eyes narrow.
	-Meddling witch.-  She hung up on me.
	I sighed.  No one ever tells me anything.
	I was working on the chorus of "The Ghost Ships of Amblerash," when the guardian informed met hat I had a visitor.  The blue stone gargoyle shifted its crystalline eyes to project an image of a now familiar redhead.  She waited patiently, smiling almost a if she could see me.
	I sighed.  "Let her in."  I gave it the command word to stay on guard.  The door opened, showing the red phoenix emblem on the wal outside.  I waatched her walk in like she owned the place.  I set my instruments aside, not wanting violence magical or physical to directly place them in danger.
	"So."  I said it smoothly, like as if I was expecting an answer, and in charge of the situation.  I leaned back sowing nonchalance I certainly didn't feel.
	She looked good.  Five foot two, with green eyes, she moved with a practiced elegance.  Ther emust be some kind of training for ladies.  She wore a new dress, this one purple with sides of lace.  She wore a dark purple stone I doubted was as common as amethyst on a necklace of gold.
	"So," she retorted, smiling sweetly.  Her hands grasped a small violet purse.  Her smile was too sweet; I could almost see the honey dripping from it.  Catching flies, are we, m'lady?  I'm used to the taste of vinegar.
	She stood and slowly surveyed the room.  She matched it well; I'm partial to the red side of the spectrum, and the walls and carpet were a red that mimicked her hair.  This room was designed by a Chanicut for sound potency; an off note wouldn't lie, a good melody would be enhanced to a great melody.  I rested on several firm velvet pillows.
	"I don't suppose you'll just let me know what you want?"  I asked.  Heck, it couldn't hurt.
	"Have my way with you and leave?" she asked.  She blushed, suddenly, and I chuckled.  Her hair was just past shoulder length, and a few strands swung out to help hide her face as she turned away.
	"You don't act like a groupie," I pointed out.
	"I'm not," she said, gathering up the self-confidence that had been here earlier.
	"So?" I repeated.  It was sounding quite clever in my mind, but I'm sure it wasn't an inspired dialogue.
	"I am from Amber," she said.  For a moment, that didn't make any sense.  Then I placed her.
	Fiona.  I almost said it aloud.
	"My father told me of you," I said.
	He never said that much, but there were things he had left behind.  Things to know him by.  I did not recognize her from his painting, bu now I saw it.  She was younger then, once, but so was he.  I wondered for a moment...
	She smiled.  "And your mother, too, I suppose?"
	Yeah, she knew Jasra.  Meddling witch, eh?  Compliments from mom-on-high.  I felt awkward, for a moment.  Strange and out of place, even there in the heart of my own home.  There was some sort of strange presence here.  I repeated my mother's words.  "I trust this isn't a pleasure call?"
	She laughed.
	"I wished to extend an invitation.  Perhaps you would like to see the Golden Realm?" she asked.
	I paused.  How much to tell her?  My father said she could be trusted.
	My father lied.
	"I have heard of it," I said, then, strangely.
	She glanced at the instruments.  "Do you know the `Ballad of the Water Crossers?'"
	It meant something to her that I did.  I pulled out my lyre and sang.  She stood there, tears in her eyes, as I played the haunting chorus.
	I couldn't have that.  I stood up and offered her a handkerchief.  She smiled.  I took a chance and kissed her.
	She was silver and lightning.  I was gold and fire.  She never said anything aloud, and I never answered her with words.  She was shy, and I, ravager of a thousand maidens, was kind of shy, too.
	When I awoke, she was gone.  I recognized the energies of the card she left on my pillow.
	With a sigh, I smiled.  I concentrated on the Trump of Amber.