Legacy

Faythe grew up rather slowly, much I think due to Clarissa's influence on her develpment. At 22, she first began showing signs of entering her phase of maturity. I think Grandmother was just imparting to me one of her endless lessons in patience, though she never directly said so. I'd like to think it eventually sank in.

Faythe was still young at 23 when Grandmother first spoke to me of having more children. Brand and I had not managed a second child yet, though not for lack of trying! Even with Clarissa's training, there was always something slightly wrong that we couldn't seem to overcome. Sometimes I'd be sure we had, only to discover in a day or a week that certainly slip away from me.
It was something, I learned later, about the fact that it took a piece of my essence to kindle life into the cells that were trying to grow. Being Amberites (especially due to the fact that Brand had already walked the pattern) my essense was bound that much more greatly to me, and splitting of a section of it for a child was no easy task. I can only assume now that Faythe was the result of inexperienced energy control and extreme stress and passion. I once mentioned this theory to Grandmother; her response was just a smile.

I was summoned to Clarissa's sitting room where it seemed all important discussions were always held. Brand was off in shadow somewhere, having been gone for most of a month. Faythe was working on one of her hobbies, her 'secret special projects' she called them. I wasn't sure just what she was up to then, though I wasn't worried, but we would later learn of her tendancy to work in the fields of Darkover. She enjoyed tending plants and had a great talent for making them bloom and prosper. Clarissa told me once that it was a good direction for her to have taken, serving to drain off excess energy and pressure that could have been a great stress to her while fighting her way through the more strenuous developmental years. Faythe always seemed to instinctually find the right path.

"Chiya, sit with me" she began, and I was certain then the talk was to be serious. "I have decided it time for you to have a son."
"Grandmother, we have tried!" I exclaimed. "You know of the difficulty I've..."
She waved me silent. "No child. Not with Brand."
The words hung in the air between us and I could feel them almost tangible. I stared at her. Of course by now I had become well versed in Darkovan customs and beliefs, but I wasn't ready for this. I drew myself up formally.
"With all respect due, Domna, I cannot. There is no other I love, nor do I wish to at this time."
"And that is exactly why you will" she retorted. "I didn't tell you to find another to share your love with! Sex is a physcial act, a thing of pleasure. It is made something more by your love, but it is not in itself an act of love. Heavens, girl, you are sometimes still so naive! Children are important, they are our legacy. You would be seriously remiss to limit your genetic influence to children by only one father" she scolded.
"But" I cried desperately, "I don't want to raise someone else's child! I don't want to birth children who aren't wanted!"
Grandmother's expression softened slightly, though her tone did not.
"If that is all that is so worrisome to you, then we will simply foster the child to other relations who have not been so fortunate. He will be raised by a family that wants and loves him."
I buried my face in my hands, not wanting to face this. "But...Brand. How will I explain to him? He is not of Darkover, he won't..." I faltered.
I sensed rather than saw her shaking her head. "Child, you have so far still to go. Have you learned nothing? Did I teach you such utter nonsense and lack of confidence in yourself?" She sighed heavily. "Do you truly think your beloved so shallow, that he would love you less if another touched you? Do you think he is so selfish to begrudge you pleasure or happiness? You are closely related and your pairing has not been overly fertile. Do you think he would hate you for giving him another child by a different sire?"
My head snapped up, fury in my eyes. "No, of course not! We..." I stopped, confused, my thoughts racing.
"Then perhaps you are ashamed to share pleasure? Do you fear that you will enjoy it? Will it lessen your pleasure with Brand if you do? Are you afraid that he too will find another? Do you think he'll not return to you?"
"I..." I stammered, my face flushed with anger and confusion. A memory of Fiona's attentions came to mind, flustering me further.
"Does this embarrass you Celeste? Can you not discuss this?" Grandmother's voice was harsh and cutting. "Does Brand own you?"
It was a calculated remark designed to strike home and it did.
"No" I said angrily. "Will you ever go to Amber again, girl? Will you ever attend any social functions there? Or will you avoid those relations the rest of your life? Will you cleverly dodge every statemen who courts your affections, every courtier who makes a friendly advance? Political alliances are often forged between the sheets, and stop looking so shocked Celeste. There are advantages to accepting a political marriage or a contract for producing heirs with a short-lived shadow dweller. What would you say to avoid such a thing? Will you tell your father and grandfather that you can't, you're already married? Will you introduce your beloved lifemate to them?" I was speechless. I stared at her in misery. "And what of those who would use your naive loyalty to injure one or both of you? You would be a wonderful tool to destroy Brand or lure him into entrapment. How could he not fall for such a ploy, knowing that all they had to do was rape you to destroy you, that such a simple act would be so devestatingly destructive to your delicate emotional state?" Grandmother's words fairly dripped with sarcasm. "Since you cannot seperate your love from a physical act, don't you think you'd broadcast your torment like a beacon? And if something should happen to him, then will you spend the rest of your life alone? Unable to experience even pleasure?"
I started to cry then and almost didn't feel her come to me for comfort.
"Chiya, you need to learn to understand the seperation of physical pleasure from the emotional and spiritual linking you share in your love. Don't you see? Only then can you be free to love without fear."
Crying softly, I nodded slowly. I did understand, and I realized that I never had before.
Softly, she added "And Fiona will be able to hurt you so much less."
I looked up in horror, not having been aware how much that she knew about that before today. She patted my hand gently, dismissing the revelation as if it were nothing.
"I will speak to Brand. For now though, it is enough that you understand this. You should consider how you want to deal with this chiya. We will speak again later."

I realized dimly that I was dismissed, and went to spend some time in the aviay alone. It was a place of gentle relaxation and quiet meditation for me. Brand, noting my love of sunlight and songbirds, had made a gift to me of a number of small, animated creations. They looked and sounded like birds, and colored the leaves and branches of the aviary gracefully, though they were but odd creations of mechanics and sorcery. Grandmother tolerated them as a quaint artistic oddity. I watched them flutter about, singing sweetly as I thought of Grandmother's words. Later that day I went to find Faythe. She was, as I suspected, down on Darkover taking care of her horse. I found her merrily chatting with a young stable hand who occasionally worked there.
I thought about Clarissa's views, and looking at Faythe I felt a little ill. Collecting her up quickly, we returned home for dinnertime. Grandmother made no mention of it again for some time.
Over the next few months, I thought again and again about that discussion. Grandmother's words sank in, albeit slowly. Often, when taking Faythe down to Darkover or when picking her up again, I would find my thoughts straying to the men working the fields, or driving their carts along the roads. What sort would she pick for me? I wondered. Would I have a choice? I would sometimes watch them bending over their work, wondering if there was one of them I could manage not to hate. Finally, Faythe managed the transition on her own. She had been trying for some time, and was so very proud of her accomplishment. I let her do down h herself, following along to be safe. She wanted to go riding, and having no great urgency at home I went along as she wished. A few of the women from the stable-house accompanied us, as they always insisted it not proper for us to go alone. They kept their discrete distance, only riding in earshot when spoken to. We rode up into the hills so she could search for wildflowers as was her whim.
We passed a small group of riders, weighed down as if on a long journey. Faythe offered a merry if still proper greeting, which was politely returned. One of the men towards the back of the group gazed at me rather intently, as if he was trying to put a face to a memory. I smiled back politely, but was startled to find myself wondering how distasteful it would be to take him to my bed. He was a rather striking man with red-gold hair like mine and an intelligent air about him, and I found the thought vaguely intriguing. Disturbed, I cut the chance meeting short and ushered Faythe along. A few of the women cast me side-long glances, but I ignored their implications.
That evening, after I saw Faythe home, I spent some time alone, just thinking and enjoying the feeling of the cold and biting wind on my face.
As time passed, I began looking at Darkover, finally, with a different eye. I observed the men of different areas and backgrounds, noting differences in traits and appearences, and eventually I began wondering about whether or not Clarissa selected them based on their genetic stock. I sometimes found myself appraising them for favorable traits I would like them to convey.
I suppose this was a form of mental rebellion, some defense mechanism kicking in to dehumanize them against what I would be required to do. Grandmother would shortly straighten this out, but for a time it seemed as if this were the only way I looked at the natives of Darkover.

A few months passed, most of which I spent in my studies. Brand had been gone somewhere out in shadow, though he finally returned for a bit. I noticed Clarissa occasionally asking him to help with with small things, obviously an excuse to talk, but there was nothing involving me as far as I could tell. Faythe, enamoured with being able to go take care of her animals on her own, came and begged him to go riding with her. At least on one other occasion, we all went down to go riding, though I left them and returned home early to get some rest when it became clear they were rapidly deciding to turn it into a hunting expedition. I begged out feigning fatigue as I was just not interested in the activity. I doubt Brand was fooled, but as I did so many times, he just let it go.
On my way to my aviary to relax for a moment, I passed Grandmother sitting by the fireplace in the Lower Hall. Her needle point was resting in her lap much too casually, and I got the impression she was waiting. A little too tired to cope, I smiled as I tried to go on by. She put her work down and patted a chair near her.
"Come child, you look troubled, sit down here with me."
"Domna, thank you, but I was just going to rest a bit, perhaps in the aviary."
"Then rest here with me instead" she smiled. "We can talk." It became obvious there was no dodging this time, so I sat down with a sigh. For a few minutes, we stayed in silence. I noticed the hall was completely deserted and the quiet was deep and penetrating. Then she spoke.
"I've noticed your attitude has improved a bit chiya. The natives are not so distasteful to you now, yes?"
I stared at my feet. "They have their uses, I am sure."
"But they have lives too child. They are not there solely for your use, your selection. I do not want you to see them as less than people either."
I nodded slowly, realizing that was just what I had been doing.
"It is about time for you to deal more closely with them, but I must tell you where to go and what you will do there. This is the fun part, I believe you will find some humor in it."
Unhappily, then with growing amazement and amusement, I listened as she explained the Dry Towners to me. I had known of them and their enslaved women, of course, but not in the detail she gave me now. Their treatment of women was a study in primitive sociology in a place like Darkover. She explained how she sent her daughters into their region, daughters who so exactly resembled their ideal of the perfect slave, to 'capture' men for stud without seriously disrupting their lifestyles or injuring their pride. It was so like Clarissa to turn the tables on those arrogant males so cleverly, but the picture painted of them felt inadaquate to me. I felt I needed to question their value in the breeding pool if they were so backwards and her look was approving.
"A good thought Celeste dear, but they have a strong and useful genetic pool from which we can produce good children. They can be raised and trained in a proper environment and brought to their full potential. Only leaving children there in that social cesspool would be criminal, not interbreeding with decent stock."
"You must realize" she continued, "we do not want to disrupt the entire culture here by our actions. They are people, they do have lives. But, unlike most of the humans in this place, these Dry Towners have the redeeming feature of looking at breeding much as I do, as a schedule of genetic improvement. So, instead of reinforcing inbred and undesireable traits due to matches created for an emotional basis or for reasons of state, they have a stronger genetic pool to work with. Their breeding tends to bring out the better, stronger characteristics. In that they may be a superior strain. And we only want to choose from the best, but with a minimal intrusion."
And I did understand, finally. She sent me off to prepare for my 'hunt'. A short while after I'd gone upstairs I heard a commotion in the lower hall that could only be Brand and Faythe returning. I paused, listening, but no familiar presence approached, no voices were raised in greeting. I could only assume that Grandmother had ambused them on the way in to give me time alone. I was grateful, I needed it. Servants brought my dinner to my rooms and I was left to eat in peace, staring out the window contemplatively.
Later that evening Brand came to me. My glad though worried greeting died on my lips. I looked at the expression on his face and I knew Clarissa had spoken to him. It was written quite clearly in his eyes. I realized I was nervous of what his reaction would be. His step as he entered the room was soft so I knew he was not angry but I still could not meet his eyes again. Shaking, I sat down on the edge of the bed. Gently he came over and drew me close beside him. "Celeste" he said softly, turning my face to his, "look at me. Such terribly wrong notions you have. No one will ever love you as I do and I am so sure of your love for me. Nothing can lessen this!"
I looked into his eyes, seeing the belief and sincerety there, hoping it was genuine but still afraid. He shook his head lightly.
"No child you bear will ever go unwanted, no matter who the sire may be. Your children are part of you love, I will love them all the more because of that. How could I not? If they're of your blood, they're already of mine as well, aren't they? You have been a wonderful mother. I have worried that I could not give you that chance again. I am glad for you to accept a new way to bring us more children. I want you to be happy. If you want this, then I want it for you. Clarissa said you were disheartened after we tried for so long and failed. Of course I don't mind! How could you think I'd love you less?"
I was amazed at Grandmother's subtle wordsmithing, but so relieved that he could accept this.
Exhaustion struck me down, and happy though I was I cried myself to sleep on his shoulder. Clarissa did not come up to the room that night, and neither did Faythe. I suspected Clarissa had taken care of her for the evening, for which I was grateful, leaving us some time to be alone. Gentle nights such as that one now live only in my memory, making it so much harder now to accept that they're gone.

The next morning Faythe was bright and eager to spend time showing us 'her latest project.' Brand seemed in good spirits, as always around Faythe. Bemused, we accompanied her to Darkover, to be surprised at her leading us out into farmlands she had been working in. The unveiling of her work was impressive and she had made a number of improvements. It was amazing to see the way the plants and crops were florishing under her care. The women there clearly loved her though they held her almost in awe. She had done a great deal of work, making their upcoming harvest likely to be a tremendous success. Brand was very proud of her and she glowed with his praise. We spent the day touring the farmlands and fields, Faythe an enthusiastic and knowledgeable guide.
Finally we returned home for the evening meal, Faythe anxious to share the day with Clarissa as well.
After dinner, Brand surprised me by taking the burden of explanation off my hands. While Clarissa looked on approvingly, he announced it was my turn for a vacation. Faythe beamed happily at him when he bragged that he got her all to himself for a while.
"Daddy, you're going to stay here with me while Mommy's gone?"
"Yes" he smiled at her, "I'll stay in mommy's...I mean in our rooms for a while. There's lots of things I'd like to show you while Mommy takes a vacation." Faythe was utterly delighted, and I was immensely relieved.

The next morning I was sent to the Free Amazon's Guildhouse. They were well versed, and superbly trained. As a Comyn woman, they would serve as a proper escort. Preparations were mostly done and our departure towards the Dry Towns was quickly underway. They explained to me the final details of the endeavor, apparently being old hands at this sort of thing.
Grandmother had explained that for this to succeed, I would have to be 'captured' by a Dry Town slaver. Nothing else would seem worth their effort. I had to admit the prospect was frightening but also a bit exciting. My adventure was soon underway.
As had been arranged we ran afoul of Dry Town slavers. In a brief struggle I was taken captive, bound, and stolen off to a Dry Town village. I couldn't help but wonder as I was carried off if I were being watched. I suspected Clarissa may be keeping an eye on me, but I wondered if perhaps she'd allowed Brand to watch as well.
Over the next few weeks, I played my part well as I had been taught. My captor's name was Kerlac. He was a rough and vaguely crude man, as I expected a common worker to be, but he was not cruel. I was subjected only infrequently to discipline, though I knew he wanted to make certain I had been 'gentled' before risking taking me to his bed. I was docile to his demands, acting as though I were delighted to have been worth his effort to capture.
Gamely, I fought for the right to be his 'first' woman, his best. I made sure I was worthy of higher consideration. Weeks passed as my place became established in the order, but eventually I was claimed as best.
Grandmother's training was exemplory, but I admit I chose to enjoy myself for a bit before taking the time to make sure I was pregnant with the expected child.
I did speak with Kerlac, selecting my words carefully and not revealing anything innappropriate in my opinion, but I did make it clear to him that eventually I must return home. This he seemed to expect in some way. He was quite fond of me, and told me I was welcome to return and visit with him whenever I wished. He was very amused, laughing uproarously, at the thought of his descendants someday sitting on the Comyn Throne.
My return was carefully orchestrated as well. I was again 'captured' while en route to a different Town where I was to visit another influential Dry Towner. As I was travelling under the hospitality and protection of my host, Kerlac suffered great sorrow over my loss, one that was not under his control to prevent.
In a small, odd way, I felt I would miss him, though I did not then nor do I now love him. He understood that as well. Grandmother's wisdom never ceases to amaze me.
When I returned, it was a great relief to see Brand waiting for me. With her usual perceptiveness, Clarissa had Faythe off with her. I didn't realize until that moment how much I had missed him. He was both glad and relieved to see me as well, but there was an air of tension about him that was very familiar to me. We spent the afternoon together, just being close, but I knew he needed to go. Reluctant though he seemed to be to leave me, he was just as anxious and restless to get going. He promised me he would return before my due date at the latest. He wanted to find Faythe and say goodbye. She seemed dissappointed, but she never gave him grief about his comings and goings. He stayed until late that night, sitting for a few hours with me in the aviary. We talked a bit, and I could tell he was really trying for me, but he was so jittery that I told him finally he should go. The look of relief in his eyes was intermixed with sorrow and a deep distress, heartbreaking in it's intensity, as he kissed me goodbye. I hoped someday he would find a way to master his internal conflict, even as I knew he likely never would.

I soon decided that I could not foster away the child after all, to my chagrin and Clarissa's knowing smile. Faythe wanted to learn about childbirth and midwifery, and we all felt it better that she have a positive experience and so she was taught. Brand did return, fully three weeks before my due date with some small and inobtrusive gifts for all of us. He was much more in control again, for which I was grateful.
The whole family was present at Brandt's birth and again I found it to be no great ordeal, though it was somewhat more difficult than with Faythe. I was indecisive over what his name was to be, but Brand suggested we name him Brandt. I think it was his way of being more part of the child, and of letting me know he would be true to his words. Either way, I couldn't agree more, and the name was chosen. Had he truly been Brand's son, I don't believe Clarissa would have allowed it, but as things stood she made no protest.
Brandt was a moody, intense child with secrets in the shadows of his midnight blue eyes. He was handsome in a rugged way, his hair shading to the golden side of strawberry blond, with highlights of fire the color of my own. In build he strongly resembled Kerlac, muscular and compact. Overall he seemed to have inherited the best physical attributes from each of us, and again I was impressed with Clarissa's foresight.
Faythe adored him, devoting herself to her younger brother with her usual charm, and he came to accept this with a quiet deliberation. He treated most displays of affection in that manner of his, with an unswerving attentiveness that could be almost somewhat frightening in it's intensity.
He was often given to great bursts of passion at times as well; very extreme emotions that took him to great heights of joy, anger and depression. He was a complicated boy.
Brand said once, in a vaguely troubled tone, that he reminded him of another child he'd once known, but refused to elaborate more on that. I worried sometimes about Brandt's deep concentration and intensity, present even when he was so young. He was like a candle that blazed brightly at both ends, and I could tell that Brand had similar misgivings.
Brandt became a rather talented artist. His work was, predictably, as broad and deep as his expanse of emotional expression, but showed the signs of true genius. We encouraged his endeavors, which he seemed appreciative of in his own way. He could turn his hand at any artistic expression he wished, but none ever held his interest very long. It was if he had something to express, but could never find the medium to express it in. It always felt as though we were never quite reaching him on some level. Little did we realize then how correct those feelings and intuition were.

Faythe remained, as always, untouched by her brother's wildly moody nature and showered honest affection on him. I always hoped she would prove a good influence on him, but it seemed sometimes to push him farther away from us. He had a distant, unreachability about him that not even Faythe seemed to penetrate. Brandt never took it out on her, but he did not respond in kind either. At times he could be crazily attached to her, the two of them inseperable, but just as suddenly he'd avoid her for days. She always took it in stride with her typical good grace. Their relationship was as comlicated as his temperment, and I think of all of us she knew him best. She was uncannily sensitive to his moods, often knowing when it was time to let him be and when it was ok to approach him again. I remember several times that she would stop me, telling me "No, it would be better to let him alone for a few hours, you can talk to him later Mother" or "Oh, it's ok, he's feeling much better now, you can go in, he won't mind." They were close as I've always imagined twins to be close, and it was nothing short of spooky at times.
He learned early, of course, that Brand was his father only in name as we did not lie to out children, not that it would be easy to do so in Darkover. Curiously enough, this knowledge drove him to try to develop the strongest relationship with Brand, and to seek more and more extravagant ways to impress him and win the acceptance he could never quite believe he had. Impossible though it was, it always seemed in some etheriel way that he was Brand's son. They were, in so many ways, so much alike that often I would startled to have to remind myself where Brandt had truly come from. He was always more a mystery to me than to anyone else.
His earliest works of art, and some of his later masterpieces as well, were made for Brand alone. Two of them became some of Brand's most treasured possessions, curiously enough. The first was an oil rendering of Faythe and I, done at the height of Brandt's painting craze. It was quite good; Brand hung it in our bedroom as he could never keep it anywhere else safely. The other was a lovely hand-crafted rug that Brandt wove for him. This he took with him back to Amber on one of his frequent trips. Brandt was immensely pleased by this, and it was one of the few times I felt they made a real connection.

Brand was true to his word and tried to be a good father to Brandt. Brandt, in turn, craved and solicited Brand's approval, but there was still something always distant between them. Though we both tried and tried, he was, however, never willing to let us really be his friends. I regret that we must have failed him somehow, and only later would we become so accutely aware of how completely he was lost to us.
Brand seemed to avoid Brandt's extreme states of emotional displays, and though he never said so, I believed it put some sort of inpenetrable emotional rift between them. While Brandt was growing up, it always felt to me as though Brand kept his visits much shorter. It wasn't that he was around less, but his comings and goings seemed much more exaggerated.
Much later I would realize that it made it that much harder on Brand when he first learned of Brandt's death. I knew that somewhere inside he hoped to reconcile the stress in their relationship someday, but we couldn't know then that there would never be enough time, for either of them.

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