Lawyers, Swords and Secrets part 11
Title: Lawyers, Swords and Secrets part 11
Author:Tamoline
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: The Good Wife (Crossover with Chronicles of Amber)
Pairing: Alicia/Kalinda
Notes: This is a completely different continuity to Flames of a Different Hue. Really. Do not carry assumptions about characters over.
Summary:
Alicia Cavanaugh is given a job offer she can't refuse after her divorce, putting her lawyering skills to work in a very different setting. And, if you don't count the somewhat antiquated society, the lack of electricity and the completely different universe she's found herself in, it's all going fairly well.
Up until the point where she encounters Princess Kalinda of Amber, that is.
I rise as Judge Adair enters the room.
He's the oldest looking person I've seen in Amber - stringy, white hair, wrinkled features and a faltering gait, using a cane for support. Even so, there's still a sword hanging at his side, though it does look a lot less sturdy than anything I've seen around the house.
I bow my head and present my wrists in what is hopefully the correct fashion. Apparently, it means 'I honour the recipient as a defender of the city, from my position as supplicant.'
The message isn't exactly to my taste, but I do what is best for the case.
And it's a lot better than the one I had been practising for the last few weeks. *That* one involved getting down on my knees and presenting the back of my neck. It's the traditional supplication of outsiders when faced with one of the nobility who has been in the military, and speaks to the conquered begging the conquerors.
At least Kalinda proclaiming me her companion had saved me from *that* little indignity, even if it *had* meant that I needed to learn a new greeting in rather short order.
This kind of formality isn't precisely usual in Amber these days, but Adair, from all accounts, is very proud of his military service in the dawn wars, that took place nearly a millennium ago when Amber was still carving out its place in the universe, and sees such niceties as his rightful due.
Across from me, Bran stands upright, his hand on his sword hilt. He also served in the military some centuries ago, in a campaign against some people called the Moonriders. Although pretty much all officials above a very junior rank have served in the military, most do so in the Navy. Adair and Bran are relatively unusual in having served in the army - possibly why Corwin kept his services.
Beside me, Kalinda uses the same salute. This actually had been up for debate - reminding Adair that Kalinda had flouted tradition by serving in the military might do more harm than the good of the reminder of the service. Especially given that she might well not have been charged in the first place if she'd been a man.
In the end, though, Kalinda had not been willing to back down on the subject, and so the decision had been made.
I can't help feeling Ciara's absence from the courtroom keenly. She absented herself, claiming that her presence could only make things worse. Judging by the way the servant acted yesterday, I can see her point.
Still.
Given her almost constant presence at my side over the last few weeks, it feels strange to be here without her.
Adair reaches his seat, and lowers himself down with a certain amount of gravitas.
And, with that, the susurrus of everyone else finding their own seats surrounds me.
Only to be broken by the sound of someone very loudly opening the doors behind me, then closing them again with equal volume. And, from the sound of the footsteps, whoever it is must be wearing hobnailed boots.
I can only guess that they really, really want to be heard.
Sneaking a look behind me, I see a tall red-headed man walking casually down the divide at the centre of the court. Somewhat improbably wearing red and orange - which somehow works for him - he has a sword buckled at his side, and a grin telling all and sundry that yes, he is *completely* aware of all the attention he's attracting from everyone in the room, and, yes, he's definitely enjoying every iota of it.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Kalinda twist around as well, only to immediately turn back towards the front, her face even more of a mask than it was before.
The man stops near where Corwin is sitting, a friendly smile splitting his face. Corwin is a little more subdued, but he doesn't seem to be displeased that the man is here. The exchange of words is too low for me to overhear, but they shake hands in a cordial enough manner.
And then the man is off again, off towards... us? He seats himself in one of the cluster of empty seats that Julian's icicle-like presence has kept free.
Whilst I'm still trying to decide who this can be, and what this could mean for the case, Adair clears his throat and Bran stands to begin his presentation.
I focus my attention towards the front again as he starts to speak.
Kalinda's expression doesn't provide any help, apart from she is quite clearly ignoring whoever is behind us.
I spare a glance for Gerren - my aide in the courtroom - but he just shakes his head in response.
Great.
I can't help missing Ciara. Surely she'd have some idea of who this could be.
Still, I have to trust Kalinda, trust that she'd tell me if I really needed to know.
...
No, I can't even convince myself of *that* one.
Still, the courtroom is *not* the place to start an argument with my client.
I'll just have to hope that it can wait until the recess for lunch.
The man in front of me is big, bluff, rough-hewn. Dressed in the uniform of the city guard, he looks like the kind of person who extracts secrets from prisoners through the cracking of bone and the tearing of joints. Rather than, say, the cold and clinical process he's actually describing - flaying someone's mind one layer at a time, extracting information in a manner like panning for gold.
It's a horror show of a process, described in intricate detail, from the initial preparations involving moderate starvation and drugging, to the end stages of shredding the subject's personality.
And, from the glances that Bran throws me from time to time, I'm sure that this totally unnecessary description of what interrogation Amber-style consists of is aimed at me.
Trying to throw me off my game.
It's working.
I don't think there can be any blood left in my face. It's probably just as well - otherwise there it would probably be running down my chin from the way my teeth are buried in my lip.
The only thing stopping me from challenging this, asking Bran to just get to the point *already* is that I know that is just what he's trying to get me to do.
Flinch in front of Adair.
Admit to the weakness that they're already sure I possess, as a woman and as an outsider.
My pride is the only thing keeping me silent, stopping me from running from this place.
Well, the only thing apart from Kalinda's hand wrapped around mine, anchoring me, keeping me here.
That and the fact that she's otherwise ignoring me, letting me keep what shreds of dignity I have managed to retain so far.
*Finally* Bran moves onto an actually relevant point.
"And, during the interrogation, did you discover any discrepancies?"
"Yes. There were gaps in the subject's memories, signs of dislocation and mental trauma."
"Could these holes have cost you anything of value?"
"Some of the missing areas concerned items of special interest. Other than that," the man shrugs, "It's impossible to tell how much valuable information was lost to the guard."
"What could cause this kind of damage?"
"If the subject wasn't captured properly, if they had time to prepare, certain methods can allow them to destroy their most important memories, to stop them being retrieved by interrogation."
"And are the city guard trained to minimise the chances of that happening?"
"Yes."
Bran looks triumphantly in my direction. It's clearly a part of his case - if he can prove incompetence, that Kalinda caused information to be lost to Amber, that she was too *female* to be trusted to properly involve herself in the city's affairs, then there is clear precedent for a conviction.
That this precedent was, in part, set by Adair's trial over the then-princess Florimel is a point that will be lost on no one.
"No further questions," he says.
Before I can respond, Kalinda whispers in my ear, "Ask him who provided the city guard with anti-shifter training."
I take a sip of water, mentally urge blood back into my extremities, then rise to my feet.
Okay, that seems like a good question to start with.
"Who provides the city guard with the training needed to safely capture shape shifters?"
"Captain Curtis of the guard is in charge of that."
I don't need Kalinda's prompting to come up with the follow-up question - I'm familiar enough with Ciara's tales to know what she was getting at.
"And where did he get his experience?"
The man in front of me twitches slightly, his eyes flickering towards Bran - or Corwin. "He got it during the war."
"Which unit?" I ask sweetly.
"The Silver Blades."
"So he is qualified to capture shape shifters because he served in Princess Kalinda's unit? Who used tactics she came up with personally?"
"Your honour!" Bran objects. "Argumentative."
"Is there actually a question there for the witness to answer?" Adair asks dryly.
"I'll withdraw the question, your honour," I say swiftly, and move on to more prepared ground. "Is there any evidence that Princess Kalinda actually had anything to do with the spy's capture?"
"One of the blank spots centred on that event," he says. "There is a discontinuity between her final day working in the castle, and being in Prince Julian's custody."
"So anyone could have captured her?" I press. "*Prince Julian* could have captured her."
He shrugs. "Maybe."
I change tack. "These holes you noticed," I say, briefly tasting bile as I approach the still vivid images Bran had furnished me with. "Is there anything else that could have caused them?"
"Psychic interrogation."
I pause a moment, and take a breath. "But you said... wouldn't that cause far greater damage?"
"It depends on how thorough you are," he says. His eyes flicker over my other shoulder - in the direction of Kalinda, or someone sitting near her - and he goes a little pale. "Or how skilled you are," he adds grudgingly.
Oh, I think a little distantly, he must have been looking at Julian.
I can't imagine that someone known as the King's Monster would be immensely forgiving of being called 'not thorough'.
"How skilled would you have to be to complete a thorough psychic interrogation with so little damage?" I persist.
"Very," he answers. "I can only think of two or three people who might be able to do that."
"And these people are?"
"Prince Julian, Princess Fiona and Prince Brand, if he were still alive."
And, of course, Julian *was* the one who handed the prisoner over to Corwin.
Apparently to be mentally dissected.
"So, if you wanted to make sure that a prisoner was properly questioned, wouldn't it make sense to take it one of these experts, rather than the City Guard?"
"Your Honour," Bran objects again. "Speculation."
Adair raises his eyebrows at me.
I shrug. At the end of the day, Adair is the person I have to convince.
And, in the past, even excluded arguments had been noted in his judgments.
So, it's a weapon I'm certainly not leaving out of my arsenal.
"No further questions," I say, and sit down.
During the rest of the morning, Bran comes up with a variety of witnesses and citations, arguing that there is clear precedent that any spy captured within the limits of the city must be delivered to the proper authorities post haste. Further, that as a former member of the military, Kalinda is bound by many of their rules and regulations 'even though she is female.'
It's a strong argument, one I'm having problems finding fault with, but by the time lunch rolls around, he still has yet to really touch on the central question of the case.
Whether or not Kalinda actually grabbed the spy in the first place.
Maybe he's biding his time.
Maybe something's come up with his chain of evidence.
Maybe he's still hoping to convince Kalinda to make the apology before anything irrevocable gets said in court.
I don't know, and the thought settles uneasily on my stomach.
Not that my appetite has recovered from earlier.
"Niece," comes a voice from behind me.
Kalinda tenses, then turns around.
"Bleys," she says to the redheaded man seated behind us. "You shouldn't have."
He grins. "Do you really think I'd miss your first trial? What kind of person do you think I am?"
"You shouldn't have," she repeats, flatly. "Really. And this isn't my first trial."
I can't help glancing at her curiously. She's never mentioned anything about another trial before. But maybe I shouldn't be surprised at her not telling me something.
He waves her words away casually. "Your first *important* trial, then," he says, seeming to ignore the way that Kalinda twitches at his words. "And, honestly, I couldn't have missed it. Your mother would have my guts for garters."
Kalinda stares at him for a moment longer, then turns towards me, dismissing him. "Come," she says, then walks away, rapid strides eating up the distance to the door. Julian raises an eyebrow in Bleys' direction, then follows her, as do I.
As does Bleys.
Of course he does.
And, naturally, given the way my luck seems to run, he apparently gives up trying to talk to Kalinda, and, instead, focusses on me.
"You must be Alicia," he says, offering me a hand. I look at it a moment, before gingerly taking it. No, Kalinda might not be best pleased at me seeming to take sides like this. On the other hand, prince of Amber, et cetera, et cetera. "We've heard about you," he continues, genially. "Even over at the other side of reality."
Oh, this can't be good. Whatever this is, it can't be good.
"Really?" I hazard.
"Oh, absolutely. The first companion of the daughter of the Empress of Chaos - worse, the first companion of the daughter of my esteemed sister? Yes, I've heard all about you." His voice contains a mix of humour and commiseration. "Just on the off chance you were planning on visiting us in the near future... you might want to wait a while."
Kalinda stops dead a few paces ahead of us, then whirls around quickly as caged lightning. Her face, though, is still smooth as ice.
"I don't know why you're here. I don't really care. Alicia is my lawyer. Alicia will remain my lawyer." Her smile is sharp, deadly. "I'll leave telling Fiona to you."
And suddenly, some of our conversation earlier, after Kalinda's mother had trumped her, becomes a little clearer.
This, apparently, is my intended successor.
Intended by Fiona, at any rate.
Despite my doubts, even despite the execrable morning I've had, something in me hardens, rises to the challenge.
Maybe it's just my pride talking, but *I* want to be the one defending Kalinda.
Bleys backs off a pace, hands held up in a placating fashion. "Whoa, whoa. Despite the always welcome opportunity to see a little more of my niece, my trip up here is definitely *not* my idea. Trust me, there's a thousand things down in Chaos I'd really rather be keeping an eye on just at the minute. But, well, your mother has a certain way of getting people to see things her way," he says with more than a trace of sarcasm in his voice.
"Good," Kalinda says. "Then you won't have a problem keeping quiet and out of the way. Will you?"
Bleys lowers his hands. "It's nice to see that you really are your mother's daughter."
"You'd know that better than me," Kalinda says. "Occupy yourself. Elsewhere."
Bleys shrugs, and turns to leave.
Possibly unwisely, I decide to interject. "Excuse me. Prince Bleys?"
Both Bleys and Kalinda turn to look at me. Bleys with a glint of amusement in his eyes, Kalinda with none at all.
"Empress Fiona wanted you to be Princess Kalinda's lawyer. Is there any advice you'd like to give me?"
I've studied Amber law, but only over a matter of months.
Even with all the experts Kalinda could muster, I'd prefer to not let pride, mine or hers, stand in the way of potential aid.
Bleys pauses for a moment, and looks towards Kalinda.
Kalinda looks off into middle distance for a moment, then nods. "As my companion requests," she says.
I'd prefer 'as my lawyer requests', but...
I guess it allows her to save more face this way.
Bleys quirks an eyebrow, then turns to look at me.
"Shall we discuss this over lunch? I know a wonderful little place not too far from here."
Kalinda rolls her eyes, but doesn't say a thing.
I guess that we're on for a lunch date.
Author's note: Argh. Many apologies for leaving this so long between updates. I hit writer's block with this, and hit it hard. Hopefully I'm over it now, though.
Author:Tamoline
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: The Good Wife (Crossover with Chronicles of Amber)
Pairing: Alicia/Kalinda
Notes: This is a completely different continuity to Flames of a Different Hue. Really. Do not carry assumptions about characters over.
Summary:
Alicia Cavanaugh is given a job offer she can't refuse after her divorce, putting her lawyering skills to work in a very different setting. And, if you don't count the somewhat antiquated society, the lack of electricity and the completely different universe she's found herself in, it's all going fairly well.
Up until the point where she encounters Princess Kalinda of Amber, that is.
I rise as Judge Adair enters the room.
He's the oldest looking person I've seen in Amber - stringy, white hair, wrinkled features and a faltering gait, using a cane for support. Even so, there's still a sword hanging at his side, though it does look a lot less sturdy than anything I've seen around the house.
I bow my head and present my wrists in what is hopefully the correct fashion. Apparently, it means 'I honour the recipient as a defender of the city, from my position as supplicant.'
The message isn't exactly to my taste, but I do what is best for the case.
And it's a lot better than the one I had been practising for the last few weeks. *That* one involved getting down on my knees and presenting the back of my neck. It's the traditional supplication of outsiders when faced with one of the nobility who has been in the military, and speaks to the conquered begging the conquerors.
At least Kalinda proclaiming me her companion had saved me from *that* little indignity, even if it *had* meant that I needed to learn a new greeting in rather short order.
This kind of formality isn't precisely usual in Amber these days, but Adair, from all accounts, is very proud of his military service in the dawn wars, that took place nearly a millennium ago when Amber was still carving out its place in the universe, and sees such niceties as his rightful due.
Across from me, Bran stands upright, his hand on his sword hilt. He also served in the military some centuries ago, in a campaign against some people called the Moonriders. Although pretty much all officials above a very junior rank have served in the military, most do so in the Navy. Adair and Bran are relatively unusual in having served in the army - possibly why Corwin kept his services.
Beside me, Kalinda uses the same salute. This actually had been up for debate - reminding Adair that Kalinda had flouted tradition by serving in the military might do more harm than the good of the reminder of the service. Especially given that she might well not have been charged in the first place if she'd been a man.
In the end, though, Kalinda had not been willing to back down on the subject, and so the decision had been made.
I can't help feeling Ciara's absence from the courtroom keenly. She absented herself, claiming that her presence could only make things worse. Judging by the way the servant acted yesterday, I can see her point.
Still.
Given her almost constant presence at my side over the last few weeks, it feels strange to be here without her.
Adair reaches his seat, and lowers himself down with a certain amount of gravitas.
And, with that, the susurrus of everyone else finding their own seats surrounds me.
Only to be broken by the sound of someone very loudly opening the doors behind me, then closing them again with equal volume. And, from the sound of the footsteps, whoever it is must be wearing hobnailed boots.
I can only guess that they really, really want to be heard.
Sneaking a look behind me, I see a tall red-headed man walking casually down the divide at the centre of the court. Somewhat improbably wearing red and orange - which somehow works for him - he has a sword buckled at his side, and a grin telling all and sundry that yes, he is *completely* aware of all the attention he's attracting from everyone in the room, and, yes, he's definitely enjoying every iota of it.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Kalinda twist around as well, only to immediately turn back towards the front, her face even more of a mask than it was before.
The man stops near where Corwin is sitting, a friendly smile splitting his face. Corwin is a little more subdued, but he doesn't seem to be displeased that the man is here. The exchange of words is too low for me to overhear, but they shake hands in a cordial enough manner.
And then the man is off again, off towards... us? He seats himself in one of the cluster of empty seats that Julian's icicle-like presence has kept free.
Whilst I'm still trying to decide who this can be, and what this could mean for the case, Adair clears his throat and Bran stands to begin his presentation.
I focus my attention towards the front again as he starts to speak.
Kalinda's expression doesn't provide any help, apart from she is quite clearly ignoring whoever is behind us.
I spare a glance for Gerren - my aide in the courtroom - but he just shakes his head in response.
Great.
I can't help missing Ciara. Surely she'd have some idea of who this could be.
Still, I have to trust Kalinda, trust that she'd tell me if I really needed to know.
...
No, I can't even convince myself of *that* one.
Still, the courtroom is *not* the place to start an argument with my client.
I'll just have to hope that it can wait until the recess for lunch.
The man in front of me is big, bluff, rough-hewn. Dressed in the uniform of the city guard, he looks like the kind of person who extracts secrets from prisoners through the cracking of bone and the tearing of joints. Rather than, say, the cold and clinical process he's actually describing - flaying someone's mind one layer at a time, extracting information in a manner like panning for gold.
It's a horror show of a process, described in intricate detail, from the initial preparations involving moderate starvation and drugging, to the end stages of shredding the subject's personality.
And, from the glances that Bran throws me from time to time, I'm sure that this totally unnecessary description of what interrogation Amber-style consists of is aimed at me.
Trying to throw me off my game.
It's working.
I don't think there can be any blood left in my face. It's probably just as well - otherwise there it would probably be running down my chin from the way my teeth are buried in my lip.
The only thing stopping me from challenging this, asking Bran to just get to the point *already* is that I know that is just what he's trying to get me to do.
Flinch in front of Adair.
Admit to the weakness that they're already sure I possess, as a woman and as an outsider.
My pride is the only thing keeping me silent, stopping me from running from this place.
Well, the only thing apart from Kalinda's hand wrapped around mine, anchoring me, keeping me here.
That and the fact that she's otherwise ignoring me, letting me keep what shreds of dignity I have managed to retain so far.
*Finally* Bran moves onto an actually relevant point.
"And, during the interrogation, did you discover any discrepancies?"
"Yes. There were gaps in the subject's memories, signs of dislocation and mental trauma."
"Could these holes have cost you anything of value?"
"Some of the missing areas concerned items of special interest. Other than that," the man shrugs, "It's impossible to tell how much valuable information was lost to the guard."
"What could cause this kind of damage?"
"If the subject wasn't captured properly, if they had time to prepare, certain methods can allow them to destroy their most important memories, to stop them being retrieved by interrogation."
"And are the city guard trained to minimise the chances of that happening?"
"Yes."
Bran looks triumphantly in my direction. It's clearly a part of his case - if he can prove incompetence, that Kalinda caused information to be lost to Amber, that she was too *female* to be trusted to properly involve herself in the city's affairs, then there is clear precedent for a conviction.
That this precedent was, in part, set by Adair's trial over the then-princess Florimel is a point that will be lost on no one.
"No further questions," he says.
Before I can respond, Kalinda whispers in my ear, "Ask him who provided the city guard with anti-shifter training."
I take a sip of water, mentally urge blood back into my extremities, then rise to my feet.
Okay, that seems like a good question to start with.
"Who provides the city guard with the training needed to safely capture shape shifters?"
"Captain Curtis of the guard is in charge of that."
I don't need Kalinda's prompting to come up with the follow-up question - I'm familiar enough with Ciara's tales to know what she was getting at.
"And where did he get his experience?"
The man in front of me twitches slightly, his eyes flickering towards Bran - or Corwin. "He got it during the war."
"Which unit?" I ask sweetly.
"The Silver Blades."
"So he is qualified to capture shape shifters because he served in Princess Kalinda's unit? Who used tactics she came up with personally?"
"Your honour!" Bran objects. "Argumentative."
"Is there actually a question there for the witness to answer?" Adair asks dryly.
"I'll withdraw the question, your honour," I say swiftly, and move on to more prepared ground. "Is there any evidence that Princess Kalinda actually had anything to do with the spy's capture?"
"One of the blank spots centred on that event," he says. "There is a discontinuity between her final day working in the castle, and being in Prince Julian's custody."
"So anyone could have captured her?" I press. "*Prince Julian* could have captured her."
He shrugs. "Maybe."
I change tack. "These holes you noticed," I say, briefly tasting bile as I approach the still vivid images Bran had furnished me with. "Is there anything else that could have caused them?"
"Psychic interrogation."
I pause a moment, and take a breath. "But you said... wouldn't that cause far greater damage?"
"It depends on how thorough you are," he says. His eyes flicker over my other shoulder - in the direction of Kalinda, or someone sitting near her - and he goes a little pale. "Or how skilled you are," he adds grudgingly.
Oh, I think a little distantly, he must have been looking at Julian.
I can't imagine that someone known as the King's Monster would be immensely forgiving of being called 'not thorough'.
"How skilled would you have to be to complete a thorough psychic interrogation with so little damage?" I persist.
"Very," he answers. "I can only think of two or three people who might be able to do that."
"And these people are?"
"Prince Julian, Princess Fiona and Prince Brand, if he were still alive."
And, of course, Julian *was* the one who handed the prisoner over to Corwin.
Apparently to be mentally dissected.
"So, if you wanted to make sure that a prisoner was properly questioned, wouldn't it make sense to take it one of these experts, rather than the City Guard?"
"Your Honour," Bran objects again. "Speculation."
Adair raises his eyebrows at me.
I shrug. At the end of the day, Adair is the person I have to convince.
And, in the past, even excluded arguments had been noted in his judgments.
So, it's a weapon I'm certainly not leaving out of my arsenal.
"No further questions," I say, and sit down.
During the rest of the morning, Bran comes up with a variety of witnesses and citations, arguing that there is clear precedent that any spy captured within the limits of the city must be delivered to the proper authorities post haste. Further, that as a former member of the military, Kalinda is bound by many of their rules and regulations 'even though she is female.'
It's a strong argument, one I'm having problems finding fault with, but by the time lunch rolls around, he still has yet to really touch on the central question of the case.
Whether or not Kalinda actually grabbed the spy in the first place.
Maybe he's biding his time.
Maybe something's come up with his chain of evidence.
Maybe he's still hoping to convince Kalinda to make the apology before anything irrevocable gets said in court.
I don't know, and the thought settles uneasily on my stomach.
Not that my appetite has recovered from earlier.
"Niece," comes a voice from behind me.
Kalinda tenses, then turns around.
"Bleys," she says to the redheaded man seated behind us. "You shouldn't have."
He grins. "Do you really think I'd miss your first trial? What kind of person do you think I am?"
"You shouldn't have," she repeats, flatly. "Really. And this isn't my first trial."
I can't help glancing at her curiously. She's never mentioned anything about another trial before. But maybe I shouldn't be surprised at her not telling me something.
He waves her words away casually. "Your first *important* trial, then," he says, seeming to ignore the way that Kalinda twitches at his words. "And, honestly, I couldn't have missed it. Your mother would have my guts for garters."
Kalinda stares at him for a moment longer, then turns towards me, dismissing him. "Come," she says, then walks away, rapid strides eating up the distance to the door. Julian raises an eyebrow in Bleys' direction, then follows her, as do I.
As does Bleys.
Of course he does.
And, naturally, given the way my luck seems to run, he apparently gives up trying to talk to Kalinda, and, instead, focusses on me.
"You must be Alicia," he says, offering me a hand. I look at it a moment, before gingerly taking it. No, Kalinda might not be best pleased at me seeming to take sides like this. On the other hand, prince of Amber, et cetera, et cetera. "We've heard about you," he continues, genially. "Even over at the other side of reality."
Oh, this can't be good. Whatever this is, it can't be good.
"Really?" I hazard.
"Oh, absolutely. The first companion of the daughter of the Empress of Chaos - worse, the first companion of the daughter of my esteemed sister? Yes, I've heard all about you." His voice contains a mix of humour and commiseration. "Just on the off chance you were planning on visiting us in the near future... you might want to wait a while."
Kalinda stops dead a few paces ahead of us, then whirls around quickly as caged lightning. Her face, though, is still smooth as ice.
"I don't know why you're here. I don't really care. Alicia is my lawyer. Alicia will remain my lawyer." Her smile is sharp, deadly. "I'll leave telling Fiona to you."
And suddenly, some of our conversation earlier, after Kalinda's mother had trumped her, becomes a little clearer.
This, apparently, is my intended successor.
Intended by Fiona, at any rate.
Despite my doubts, even despite the execrable morning I've had, something in me hardens, rises to the challenge.
Maybe it's just my pride talking, but *I* want to be the one defending Kalinda.
Bleys backs off a pace, hands held up in a placating fashion. "Whoa, whoa. Despite the always welcome opportunity to see a little more of my niece, my trip up here is definitely *not* my idea. Trust me, there's a thousand things down in Chaos I'd really rather be keeping an eye on just at the minute. But, well, your mother has a certain way of getting people to see things her way," he says with more than a trace of sarcasm in his voice.
"Good," Kalinda says. "Then you won't have a problem keeping quiet and out of the way. Will you?"
Bleys lowers his hands. "It's nice to see that you really are your mother's daughter."
"You'd know that better than me," Kalinda says. "Occupy yourself. Elsewhere."
Bleys shrugs, and turns to leave.
Possibly unwisely, I decide to interject. "Excuse me. Prince Bleys?"
Both Bleys and Kalinda turn to look at me. Bleys with a glint of amusement in his eyes, Kalinda with none at all.
"Empress Fiona wanted you to be Princess Kalinda's lawyer. Is there any advice you'd like to give me?"
I've studied Amber law, but only over a matter of months.
Even with all the experts Kalinda could muster, I'd prefer to not let pride, mine or hers, stand in the way of potential aid.
Bleys pauses for a moment, and looks towards Kalinda.
Kalinda looks off into middle distance for a moment, then nods. "As my companion requests," she says.
I'd prefer 'as my lawyer requests', but...
I guess it allows her to save more face this way.
Bleys quirks an eyebrow, then turns to look at me.
"Shall we discuss this over lunch? I know a wonderful little place not too far from here."
Kalinda rolls her eyes, but doesn't say a thing.
I guess that we're on for a lunch date.
Author's note: Argh. Many apologies for leaving this so long between updates. I hit writer's block with this, and hit it hard. Hopefully I'm over it now, though.