The Funeral

My father is now, and always will be, a selfish bastard. I was never anything more to him than a showpiece, some prize he’d thought he won. Never did that become more apparent to me than when Grandmother was kind enough to show me my funeral. It was painful day I will never forget…

That day’s lesson was in the Tower, where Grandmother had said she intended to teach me the arts of scrying, and in retrospect, perhaps to teach a little patience as well. Information comes to those who wait. I cannot put down here her teachings, nor would I bother going through the various rituals that might allow me to. You want to learn, YOU study with her.

I was getting in practice in focusing the Tower Crystal on the desired subject, but was having a bit of trouble getting it quite right. Grandmother assisted, telling me she had just the perfect place to look at, I would enjoy it.

At first I was slightly confused at the scene of the small chapel before me, but realization dawned as I continued to watch and fine-tune. Father was there, and he was apparently getting together something that looked a cross between a funeral and a theatrical production, with great flash and style. My astonishment grew as it became clear it was MY funeral, brought home most clearly by the somewhat charred body resting on the bier at the front of the chapel. It bore more than a slight resemblance to me, and I gasped in surprise. I glanced at Grandmother quizzically but her face was the perfect diplomatic mask.

"But, who is it?" I blurted out in confusion.

She sighed. "That would seem to be one of my daughters whom you have never met dear. I would say, apparently, she was a bit careless."

I stared speechless for a moment, then returned my attention to the spectacle before me.

Father seemed to have directed a redecoration of the Shrine, which was apparent from the number of vaguely symbolic objects and bric-a-brac emphasizing his colors and personal symbols. It wasn’t exactly cheap looking, but the whole setup had the overall effect of making him look awfully good there. What a bastard he is. He even used my funeral as a stage to preen on.

I noted with interest the family members who were in attendance. Eric was there, for which I was glad, as well as Benedict, Dierdre, Gerard, Julian and Zach. Fiona had put in an appearance which just made me uneasy. Then I noticed, sitting far in the back corner away from anyone else was Random. He looked like he’d been there for a while, seemingly very settled in and not at all well. I felt bad for him.

There were a few prayers, a few words spoken, then the High Priest motioned to Father and invited him onto the podium to say a few words. Because he was sitting in the front, where he looked best, no one but the myself and the Priest could see his face. I guess that means no one else saw the look of disgust that was on it, but I’ll certainly never forget it.

I listened in growing disgust myself, as he waxed elegant for a time. He spoke of my memorable beauty, as a reflection of him, and of my elegant style, as a reflection of him. He mentioned with great humor his appreciation of even my simple, childish games of will with him, a credit to how he raised me properly. He spoke of his everlasting efforts and devotion as a father until I felt sick to my stomach. Then he drove the knife home.

"My daughter was" here he shrugged, "stubborn and strong willed. She loved to be contradictory. She refused to claim her heritage, seeing this as yet another front to contest willpower with me. It is a pity, for if she’d listened to me she might still be alive now." The bastard sat down, wiping a false tear from his eye. I glanced at my Grandmother again, but her face was as inscrutable as the Sphinx. I sighed and half-heartedly watched the rest. I felt a bit vindicated to note Eric was looking daggers at Father from the back of the chapel.

Things wrapped up fast, seeming unplanned and hurried, and I noted that Father took the time to thank everyone personally for their show of support and compassion. When he finally was finished, he walked back toward his seat, holding out an arm to Fiona. She joined him and they left together.

Uncle Benedict stood once father was gone. I saw him go forward and put a hand gently on the corpse’s head, bow his own head for a moment and then leave. I felt strangely moved by watching this, and vaguely like an intruder. Eric stood, and I leaned forward curiously.

Eric walked to the front of the Shrine, and turned to face those still gathered. He spoke for a few moments, quietly speaking about my love of life and the pleasures I shared with those who cared. He didn’t say much in detail, but his words were kind and poignant, and it felt good to know he’d bothered. He finished and turned to go, but I noticed Zach motion him over with his eyes. Eric paused, then resumed his original seat. Caught in conflicting emotions, I continued to watch, wondering why Aunt Flora hadn’t come, and hoping Brand didn’t see this.

A few servants filed in, quietly and respectfully. They began gently removing all of my father’s decorations and accoutrements, restoring the simple beauty of the Unicorn’s Shrine.

When they’d finished, almost as if on cue, Julian rose and approached the bier. He lowered his head for a moment, then turned and left quietly. I guess he didn’t like father’s theatrics either.

No one moved for a time; Eric, Dierdre, Gerard, Zach and Random all sat silently. I moved to break the connection, but Grandmother placed a hand on my arm.

"Wait" was all she said, so I continued watching.

There was, after a moment, a rainbow shimmer and Caine appeared clasping Eric’s hand. A moment later Corwin trumped to Dierdre. Re-interested, I continued to observe the Shrine. Caine and Corwin sat down, all of them seemingly waiting.

Then I understood. Aunt Flora entered the Shrine, in a plain yet lovely gown of mourning and I felt my eyes grow moist. She looked pale and drawn, and I was sure she’d been crying. She motioned softly to the staff attending her – her staff I noticed – and they moved about the Shrine at her direction like ghosts, adding subtle changes. It really looked like a funeral now and I thought I saw Random grow a bit paler.

Aunt Flora walked slowly towards the bier and turned to the High Priest waiting patiently there. Her words were pitched for his ears only but the Crystal provided a perfect and terrible front row seat.

"He couldn’t be found?" she said to him.

"No" the priest replied, eyes downcast, "I’m sorry."

"So am I" she said sadly and I knew then who she meant. I felt my cheeks flush as my tears coursed steadily down my face. Grandmother moved closer behind me and I felt her support and her scrutiny.

Aunt Florimel turned to the gathered family there and spoke, her voice soft but steady. Her speech was simple yet so elegant and they were the words of someone who knew me far better than I ever realized. I knew then that they were also the words of someone who cared for me a great deal. It seemed to touch everyone there, the room growing solemn and bleak. Random cried silently in the back corner and again I felt so very bad for him.

She finished her soliloquy. Aunt Flora turned back to the bier. She lit a single tapir candle and then pulled a small spray of flowers from her shawl. As she placed them on the body my breath caught in my throat. They were identical to the flowers I put on my mother’s grave every year. That simple gesture on her part spoke volumes to me and I choked back a sob.

After this Aunt Flora found a seat quietly. Eric stood again. This time there were no words of reassurance. He placed a small flower by the body, which I recognized as from the restaurant in that shadow where he’d taken me to lunch. The lump rose again in my throat. Eric stepped aside carefully and silently left.

Next came Corwin, Uncle Corwin whom I hardly knew. He looked genuinely sad to my wonderment. He too had a single flower to place on the body, one silver rose. He paused for a moment. Taking a single step back, he waited quietly for his sister Dierdre who was right behind him. Dierdre stepped up and just stood looking down for a long minute. She reached down and placed three silver coins unfamiliar to me in the corpse’s hand.

"For the journey" she said softly then turned to go. She left on Corwin’s arm, the two of them filing out slowly.

Uncle Caine came forward seeming almost contemplative. He placed what looked to me like a miniature ship compass on the bier without a word, then turned on his heel and left with a measured pace. I watched him go thoughtfully.

Uncle Gerard stood slowly as if bearing a great weight on his shoulders. He went to the side of the bier and stood gazing down for a long while, a faint frown on his face. I had seen what he carried in one hand already and it made me cry harder to see him gently place the Minotaur mask on the still form.

"Guess I was late this time" he muttered gruffly. This brought to mind all the times Gerard hadn’t been late, all the times he’d been there to pick up the pieces for me. He too slowly turned and left, his eyes on the ground.

Zach finally rose, his steps seeming to drag. He laid a single arrow on the bier with a sober look.

"I’m sorry" he said simply before turning to go.

Still Random didn’t move and I was a worried for him. After a time, Aunt Flora went forward again. Gently she patted the charred hand on the corpse.

"Don’t worry dear, I’ll take care of her" she said. It wasn’t until sometime later that I learned the meaning of that cryptic remark. Scrying on my mother’s shadow in remembrance of her, since I couldn’t go there, I was surprised to see Aunt Flora carefully laying the same spray of flowers on her grave I had always taken there. Flora, I can’t ever begin to repay all my debts of kindness to you.

Finally even Aunt Flora left, leaving that eerie form on the bier and the silently weeping Random in the shadows. I wondered if he was going to come through this all right. Time passed, and finally I moved to break away from that painful scene again. And again, Grandmother stopped me with a simple "Wait".

Unexpectedly the door to the Shrine slammed open and my eyes went wide in horror. Brand staggered in, his clothes torn and bloody, cuts and bruises lacerating his face. He favored his left leg badly and his eyes were wild and grief-stricken. I heard myself moan softly. Grandmother put a hand on my back and subtly strengthened the connection where I’d almost let it drop.

Brand looked around the Shrine, though he didn’t seem to notice Random, and began casting a complicated series of sorcerous protections fully warding the room. The connection began slipping from me and I felt Grandmother move to hold it steady against the counter-magic.

Brand limped slowly to the bier and sank weakly to his knees. He reached out one hand as he always did to stroke that hair so identical to my own. I caught the soft whisper of my name, just once. His arms encircled the head of the corpse and he fell apart, crying hysterically. I leaned on my Grandmother’s supportive shoulder, crying as I watched his heart breaking and I remember just repeating "No" over and over again. She offered me comfort and helped me to regain some composure after letting me cry for a minute. Finally that torturous scene wound down as Brand seemed to have emotionally spent himself. Quietly he sat with the corpse for a minute, stroking her hair. My own breath was a ragged sob. Ever so gently he leaned his face close to hers whispering against her lips too softly for me to hear and kissed her goodbye. I buried my face against my Grandmother for a moment, unable to shake the feeling that this was one thing I should never have seen. As he backed away, one hand pressed palm out to his mouth, the tears ran freely down his cheeks. His wards dissolved around him as he moved back down the aisle, and then he was gone.

I turned away from the Crystal to leave, but once again Grandmother’s voice admonished me to wait in a gentle tone. Feeling horrified at what could possibly come next, I still would not disobey her and so I looked again at that dreadful scene. I was emotionally drained and spent, and I felt her take the brunt of the connection, slowly taking all of it from me as my spirit waned.

As I continued to watch the still silent Random the door pushed open once last time. Grandfather entered and I stared in surprise. He stopped inside the door to look down at Random, but Random did not react to him at all. Continuing up the aisle to the bier he stood and gazed at the corpse as many of the others had. I wondered if he’d seen Brand come and go, if he’d seen the state Brand was in.

Of a sudden, he looked up and started laughing, though the laughter sounded bitter and almost self-mocking.

"The boy doesn’t even know his own daughter" he commented as he started to turn away. Pausing, he held out one hand and there was a burst of energy there. A small pendant with the Darkover Comyn appeared in his hand and he tossed it lightly onto the bier.

"Well, whomever you are, I am sorry you’ve passed on, but at least you’ve done it well."

He walked back down the aisle and stopped again at Random.

"Come son."

Random looked up at last, his face pale and tear-streaked.

"But she is still gone" he said softly.

Grandfather sighed heavily.

"As you wish" he said, then turned and left the Shrine, leaving Random sitting in the shadow again.

Grandmother let the scene fade at last, and I sank to my knees to exhausted to stand. Almost blindly, I fumbled for my trump case finally managing to pull out Brand’s trump. I stared at it for a time with no result. I felt Grandmother regarding me silently, and finally she turned as if to go.

"Please" I said softly, holding a hand up to her, "can you find him?"

She looked at the tears streaming down my face thoughtfully for a moment, then glanced at the card briefly.

"I’m sorry dear, you just can’t reach him right now. He isn’t receiving. From anyone." Her voice was tinged with sorrow and she looked at me not unkindly. "Why don’t you go down, have some tea and then rest for a bit dear?"

Mutely I nodded and wandered away. I felt her watch me go silently and I was grateful for her kindness and unspoken understanding.

I found my way to a cup of tea and wandered off to be alone. I don’t remember now where I went, but eventually I think I was heading for my room. I was in shock, and Grandmother was letting me alone to work it out for myself.

I was shaken from a self-indulgent reverie in a small atrium by a voice raised in pained anger nearby. Startled, I realized it was Brand.

"You SAID you would PROTECT her!" I heard him rage.

"Maybe you should…" I heard Grandmother say before her voice dropped to an inaudible range. I started towards the voices when Brand burst through the archway into the atrium. I saw, in a split-second, Grandmother pause in the arch, then wave her hand briefly and fade away. Her eyes met mine and I saw the ghost of a smile.

All this in the time it took Brand to cross the walkway that pull me to him in the most fierce hug he’d ever given me. By the time he reached me we were both in tears.

"Celeste, Celeste, I thought…" his voice choked.

I cried while I was clinging to him, "I’m so sorry love, I sorry that bastard put you through that…"

He pulled away slightly, looking confused for a brief moment before I saw realization register.

"You knew?"

I pointed up towards the tower, "I s-s-saw! I c-could only wa-watch" I sobbed.

His face registered horror and he held me closer.

"Shhh, that must have been terrible" he whispered.

I held up the trump I was still holding. "You…you didn’t answer…"

His eyes were pained.

"I never got the contact. I would have… I’m sorry Celeste. I thought you were gone" he said softly. He reached out his hand like always to stroke my hair, and in my mind I saw him reach out again to touch that corpse on the bier. I collapsed in tears, unable to hold up any more.

He held me close while I cried until I must have fallen asleep in his arms. I don’t know how long I slept, but when I woke up he was still holding me. I opened my eyes to see Brand smiling gently at me, though he looked exhausted as well. Warily I searched his eyes, but there was no hint of ice.

Hesitantly, I smiled back. "Brand, you look tired. Are you, um, ok?"

He understood. "Everything’s fine. But I guess I am a little tired."

Much calmer now, I looked closer and he still looked like he’d been beat up. I felt terrible.

"C’mon, why don’t you get some rest?" He let me lead him up to my room. Grandmother was conspicuously absent for which I was immanently grateful. We curled up together in my room and both slept for what must have been a long while.

We were woken later by a soft knock on the door. A servant came in with a generous meal on a tray. Also included were some soft towels, cottons, and a jar of astringent. On the corner was a note from Grandmother.

Celeste dear

I think that was a rather strenuous lesson. I won’t be expecting you for at least two days. I expect you’ll use your time wisely of course.

Oh yes. Oberon will most likely be keeping an eye out for you now dear, but he can’t look here. I suggest you restrict your time off to staying here exclusively, especially while you have a guest visiting. He’s so backwards about some things.

And Brand dear, do get some rest. You’re not looking your best.

Enjoy your breakfast children.

Love Clarissa.

We spent all of the next two days together, and only once saw Grandmother in passing. She nodded pleasantly going about her own business and let us be, though she did pause to comment to Brand that he was looking so much better.

After that visit Brand returned to Darkover occasionally, though infrequently, to visit and Grandmother always found some excuse to give me ‘a little time off’. I only wish now I could have kept him there with me.

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