Benedict and Callandra headed upstairs, towards Deirdre's level. Ben figured he could get Callandra some decent clothing there, rather than the wet silk wrap she was now wearing. When they arrived, he tested the handle; it was locked. Damn, he thought to himself, then continued heading upstairs to his own rooms. There was still clothes there--he didn't move all of them--and she could wear something of his until he talked to the staff (whenever they returned) or one of his sisters.

He entered, and ignored the chill from the huge hole in the wall. Benedict headed towards his bedroom, and started rummaging through an almost intact wardrobe. Callandra watched him sort with a puzzled look on her face. "Pick something out," he said while straightening up, "You can't run about looking like that."

She giggled, and he had to supress a smile. She picked an overlarge tan tunic, "Y'know, if you'd told me you wanted me to put on something else, I could have borrowed something of Llew's before we left her floor."

He shrugged idly and wandered out, to let her change in private. Wouldn't they be wet? he wondered to himself. Aloud, he said, "Ah, does it really matter? Clothes are clothes."

"Nah, I guess not. You got a belt or something?"

"Hanging on the inside of the wardrobe," he called back.

She rustled around in there while he surveyed the damage. Ben shook his head, wondering how long it would be until he had his own rooms back. "Oops," Callandra said, emerging from the room. The tunic came to her knees and hung open at the collar. It was better than what she had before, however. "Better?"

"If you don't mind going barefoot, yes."

"Prefer it, actually."

He nodded and straightened his back. "Well." He turned towards the enlarged window and squinted at the sky. "Unless Llewella needs me for something, I've nothing to do right now. Did you want to have a look around the castle?"

"Sure. Um...assuming the rest of it isn;t like this..." she looked skeptically at the window.

He shook his head, "No. Except for the main dining hall." He sighed again, frowning deeply, before heading towards the door.

Callandra followed, pading softly on the stone floors in her bare feet. "This place is supposed to be a mirror image of the one back home, right?"

He shrugged, heading out the door and downstairs, "I don't know. I've only been to Remba a couple times, and only when I was younger--when Llewella was born, actually. Beyond that, I pretty much stayed here."

On a whim, he asked, "How old are you?"

"Not quite seventeen," she said casually, looking around at the castle halls with interest. Benedict led her downstairs, out of the royal family's tower.

"Hrm," he said offhandedly, vaguely paying attention, "When's your birthday?" He wasn't the best at smalltalk..and it was almost excruciatingly painful today, but he was giving it his best shot to make her more at ease. He glanced sideways at her again, and sighed softly. More family, he mused to himself, How many of us are there?

"'Bout three weeks." She fell silent for a time. He did as well, until they hit the bottom of the tower.

"Where'd you like to see first?" he asked.

"Well, I've seen Llew's office, and I've seen her rooms, and yours," she mused aloud. "How about the throne room? That's supposed to be pretty impressive, from what I've heard."

He grunted and shrugged noncommittally. "This way." After that, it was almost like a guided tour on the way there. He pointed out rooms of interest, like the family library, and the way to the courtyard, and whatnot. After a few moments she asked, "Um...pardon me for asking, but shouldn't there be more people around here?"

He nodded, "There should be. They're...gone." He muttered 'to where, no one knows' under his breath before continuing in his normal voice, "The Ruler has informed me that at some point they'll be back. When is anyone's guess."

"Aha." She nodded. "Sound slike you guys have had a heck of a couple of days."

His jaw clenched involuntarily, "That's one way to put it."

"So is it just me, or do you get the feeling we're being watched?"

Benedict nodded vaguely. He didn't expect all of the castle staff to be totally gone...even if they were, most wouldn't know the difference. There were always people or things watching...this he knew. That she was able to pick up on that was slightly short of amazing, especially since the Royal Family had lived all of their lives up til now in ignorance. The silence stretched between them until he finally broke it, "Some people say the castle itself is alive, you know."

"Really?" She seemed rather tickled at the idea, and Ben was pleased with himself for mentioning it. "That's freaky. Living and sleeping and whatnot inside something that's alive. Weird."

He shrugged slightly, "You get used to the idea. You get used to being watched all the time. Fact of life here, unfortunately." He paused and glanced at her.

"Hmph." She appeared less than delighted at that. "Why I never much wanted to come here..."

Ben almost smiled at that. "It's why I spend most of my time out in Shadow, personally." Not that that helped much, he added silently. What with entire Shadows having personnel files on us... He stopped that train of thought with a quick headshake.

"Bet you wish you could go back there. This place is starting to give me the creeps."

He sighed slightly, and didn't answer right away. Thoughts of Jess filled his mind, and the manner in which he left her. She must hate me, he thought. He'd love to make it up to her, but reality had a way of interfering with the simplest of plans. "More than you know," he answered his neice. Another silence fell between them, and he stopped once more, looking around. "I wonder if Llewella has anything else for me to do? Let me check in real quick." He pulled out his Trumps, and shuffled out Llewella's.

She answered promptly, looking up from behind Dad's desk. "Yes?"

"Is there anything else you need me for? I can't start an investigation until the staff returns, and the Rebman guards have returned, the gate locked." He paused a heartbeat before adding, "Callandra's with me; I didn't want to leave her alone." Strange in that he almost felt guilty in saying that.

"Ah. Well, good; I was a bit concerned about her, myself. At the moment, I think everything's covered. That could change at a moment's notice, however."

He nodded, well knowing that fact. "If you need me, Trump me. I think I'm going to take Callandra out, give her a tour or something." He stopped, and wiped casually at his brow, "I need some fresh air myself." That was all he was going to say about his grief...that he needed some space, a bit of time away from the castle. Absent he might have been from this place, there were still too many memories just dancing at the periphery of his mind for comfort.

Llewella nodded, a faint smile crossing her face. "I can well imagine. I'll call you the moment anything comes up."

He nodded again, and cut the contact. After putting his Trumps away, he turned to Callandra who had been waiting politely for him to get done. "How'd you like to go out? Maybe do some riding...?"

"Okay. Ah--riding what, exactly? Horses?"

He nodded, "What else?"

"Well, we generally ride hippocampi where I come from. Wasn;t sure what-all else was up here, other than horses."

He faintly smiled, and pulled at the collar of his shirt absently, "Other things as well, but horses are almost universal." He started to walk towards the exit, the front hall, of the castle. He glanced about for a moment, then added, "You're right, though, it is unnerving in here, without anyone around."

On the way to the front of the castle, both were silent. There were too many silences between them, but Benedict didn't know how to remedy that. Building trust takes time, he reminded himself, And you're not exactly the most friendly of our family. Their steps echoed down the hallway, eerily reverberating back to them. By the time they had reached the entry to the courtyard, Benedict had made his decision.

"You've only met Llewella and myself here, correct?"

"Um, well, there were a couple of functionaries that brought me up here and then that was it."

He nodded slightly, "No other family members though?"

She smiled. "I met the King once, a long time ago. Oh," her smile widened into a grin, "and Prince Bleys---very, very briefly."

"Ah," he said, "you wouldn't mind if I invited him along then?"

Her eyes widened slightly as though Ben had just suggested the most marvelous game. "Sure! Why not?" Benedict felt a momentary stab of jealousy, but dismissed that easily away. Still, that seemed to sum up his life...he'd spend time and effort trying to build a relationship with someone, and some coincidence would wipe out all he had done. There was a lesson in that somewhere.

He took out his Trumps, and searched for Bleys' Trump. Once he found it, he used it.

"Who is it?" his brother answered almost instantly.

"Three guesses. Busy?" Ben asked.

"Hello, Ben. Not particularly, no. What's up?"

Ever to the point, Benedict asked, "Want to meet your neice?" He resaid that in his mind, and blanched slightly. "Our neice, I should say," he amended hastily, lest Bleys think Callandra was his child.

Bleys brightened, "Well, I'll be damned.. you recovered Eric's kid?"

Ben felt another momentary stab of pain, and shook his head, "Unfortunately not. This is...something else."

"I see," Bleys said, "Well, family's family. Sure, I'd like to meet her." Ben offered his hand out to Bleys, and Bleys stepped through.

Ben stepped back and reshuffled his Trumps idly, watching the two of them interact. Bleys offered his hand to Callandra, "Hello. Bleys."

"No," she said, looking impish, "you're Bleys. I'm Callandra." She shook his hand in a friendly fashion. "Not in such a hurry this time?"

Bleys blinked in surprise, "Well, I'll be damned. Nice to see you again. The years have been kind to you." Bleys was smiling, and so was she. Both seemed totally at ease. This time, Ben did let his feelings of envy through as he watched...he wished he could feel so...confident around other people, in this type of setting. Just talking...chatting...like it was nothing big. Maybe I should just stop talking, he mused to himself, wiping his brow again, Say only what I have to. Avoid all that. It was an attractive thought.

Callandra brought him out of his reverie, saying to Bleys, "...least you're wide enough for your tall now."

Bleys smiled at that, "I'm not sure if that's a good thing. So, to be blunt, who's kid are ya, lass?"

Her smile faltered for a brief second, then was right back in force, "My dad's name is Rhyvin. I don't expect you've met him. He's been down in Rebma, like, since the beginning of time..."

"Really?" Bleys asked with some interest, "Well. A couple of days ago I'd be shocked and ask all sorts of question. Today? Interesting tidbit." Bleys chuckled and Ben nodded to himself. That was exactly how things were going...too much, too fast. Bleys glanced around, first to Benedict, then to Callandra, "So, what's up?"

"I was just about to take her riding," Benedict replied. "I've had enough of the castle for a while, and figured she might want to get used to...well, dry land."

Bleys nodded, that making sense to him, "Sure, I'll tag along. Be fun, haven't ridden a horse in decades." Benedict frowned slightly, tsking to himself.

"You've got a few decades on me then," said Callie cheerfully, "Just show me which end is the front, though, I'll manage from there."

Ben almost smiled again as he gestured to the stables, "Shall we?" Bleys fell in step beside him, and asked in a quiet voice, "How's the leg?"

Ben shrugged, remembering now who it was that worried Llewella unnecessarily. He shot Bleys a look that conveyed that thought, "Fine." He paused for a heartbeat then added, "You needn't have worried Llewella about it."

Bleys shrugged as if he didn't care and kept walking.

"Sooo..." Callandra broke the silence, "Is there someplace I could pick up a jacket or something before we go?" Ben stopped and turned to look at her. He frowned, realizing it was winter. He felt fine out here--better than inside the castle at any rate--and didn't remember what she was wearing. He berated himself mentally and was about to say something when Bleys beat him to it.

"Good God, girl, you must be freezing." He took off his cloak and wrapped it around their neice. She smiled at him. "Hold onto this, I'll go find something for ya," Bleys finished. With that, he headed back to the castle.

Ben watched Bleys go. After his brother was gone, Ben turned to Callandra and said almost sheepishly, "I'm sorry. I'm a bit distracted now..should have probably added boots to that list."

"It's okay. I imagine he's smart enough to figure that part out, too."

"I'd hope so," Ben replied, not without a bit of sarcasm. They stood out there for a short while, waiting for Bleys. After a bit, he suggested, "Why don't we head into the stables anyway? Warmer in there."

"Sure," she replied, just as Bleys caught up to them, holding a an armful of clothing.

"Ok, you know how all this stuff works, right?" Bleys asked her. Ben shook his head slightly, rolling his eyes.

Callie grinned at him, then composed herself and accepted the garments. "I think I can figure it out.."

They reached the stables, and Ben gestured for Callie to head inside. "Once you're ready, just call."

The moment she was out of sight, Bleys asked in a low voice, "So, what happened after Llew adn I left?"

Benedict shook his head slightly, "Not much. Everyone pretty much left, and I sealed the room. Is.." and he frowned, thinking of the sight he had been mercifully spared, "...is Flora and Random with Gerard in the infirmary?"

"I left them there, yeah. I never saw Caine or anyone else drop off Gerard though. God.." Bleys' voice trailed off, and Ben commiserated silently with him. This just isn't real.. he thought for the millionth time.

After a moment, he broke the silence, "This shouldn't have happened, you know. It, oh, hell..." Ben kept shaking his head. He felt guilty over their deaths, although there probably wasn't anything he could have done to stop them.

Bleys broke the silence next, "I was in his mind when he died. I think he tried to show me something."

"What'd you see?" Ben asked quietly, not quite able to bring himself to look squarely at Bleys. He fixiated on a point over Bleys' shoulder instead.

"Not sure," Bleys replied, "A mess of images. I'm still trying to process it all. Caine was the only familiar face I saw.. I'll tell you about it later perhaps."

Benedict could only nod. Gerard would have been hurting too badly to form any coherent images. To spare them both thoughts of this morning, he abruptly changed the subject, "When are the Asgardians supposed to show?"

"Sometime today, nobody seems to be quite sure.. and with the lack of castle staff, things are rather crazy."

Ben's jaw clenched at that, "Tell me about it." He nodded towards the stables, "That's why I"m with her right now, instead of doing paperwork. None of us should be alone right now. Too dangerous." That, and it's a welcome relief from everything.. he thought to himself, trying desparately to keep his mind schooled and focused on the present, rather than past events.

"Agreed," Bleys said, nodding slightly, "Especially the younger one.. at least us older folks can pretend we can take care of ourselves.." Good way of putting it, Benedict silently agreed. Bleys looked at the stables and asked, "...isn't she done yet?"

Callandra made an appearance then, wearing the clothes Bleys brought her. "Ugh. Add one item to me list of 'Why I like hippocamps better than horses'. Do all stables smell like that?"

"Most are worse," Bleys responded cheerfully, all traces of seriousness vanished from his face. Ben envied that, and shrugged slightly. He turned to his brother, "Pick out a horse for her Bleys, I'm going to feed and water them...since the staff is gone..." He shrugged again and headed inside to the smelly warmth. Once inside, he dropped to work quickly, refilling water troughs, and giving them oats. As he was working he felt a momentary chill pass through him, pricking his senses. Something's not right, he thought, hand wandering to his sword hilt. Cautiously, he stepped towards the entrance of the stables, keeping close watch on his surroundings.

Bleys was already outside, hand on his sword as well. He was peering at a place in the courtyard proper, studying something intently. It was Callie that broke the silence this time, asking a rather surprised, "What?"

"Stay here," Bleys breathed as he moved cautiously out in the courtyard. Ben stayed near Callie, and in front of her. He passed over his parrying dagger to the girl, just in case, and withdrew his bootknife. He felt ready to take on anything...and almost wanted to. The last battle he'd been in, he'd come away with something less than perfect. He wanted to rectify that, if possible, but barring that...beating the hell out of something else would do. Anything to relieve tension...anything to feel like he was doing something...

"Ben, there's something here," Bleys called out sharply. He had reached the place he had been looking at so intently. Benedict couldn't stop a slight eye roll at that, and a nasty thought or two. Forcibly, he made himself relax.

Bleys pulled out something, presumably his Trumps. After a few moments, Fiona was standing in the courtyard beside her full brother. At this point, Ben decided to approach, not 'feeling' anything else nearby. Callie was probably safe enough where she was. As he approached his siblings, he felt the same cold chill, only growing more intense as he approached. It was abnormal, even for winter, and rather bizarre. It unnerved him.

Sorcery disturbed him. You couldn't fight a sorcerer without being one yourself, so Benedict had taken great pains to learn something that came hard to him. He still wasn't comfortable with it, and never would be. He was rather glad Fiona was present, as he had the feeling this was something he wouldn't be able to handle with a sword.

Bleys suddenly spoke up, "Did anyone hear that? I just heard a voice."

Both Ben and Fiona asked simultaneously, "Hear what?" She was rubbing her arms against the cold. He put away his knife and took off his jacket, handing it to his sister. She took it, and nodded absently, watching the unfolding scene. You're welcome, he thought dryly.

"I heard you," Bleys said. "Said 'Ben? Bleys?'" And then his brother did something extremely odd (even for Bleys), he put his hand up against his ear. Benedict frowned heavily.

"An apparition. Female. There is a mist forming in front of me," Bleys said, as if in explanation of what he was seeing. Benedict looked first at Bleys, then Fiona. He's snapped, Ben thought, shaking his head slightly.

"Fi. It's Flora," Bleys said quietly. Benedict started, and wiped his free hand over his brow.

"That's not funny, Bleys," he said in a sharp voice.

Fiona started walking around the scene, watching the spot intently. "No, it's not," she murmured after several long moments, "and I do not believe it is intended to be..."

"I'll do what I can. What do you need?" Bleys asked the empty air. Benedict could only look on at the insanity. After a few moments of this, Fiona approached him, assuring him that something was there. He didn't reply.

Bleys nodded to nothingness, "Ben, Flora says to calm your ass down." He then switched back to 'Flora', saying, "Flora, the problem is, you're quite dead. I spent about ten minutes trying to resusitate you. You killed yourself."

Ben hrumpfed at that. No she didn't, fool. She would never have done that. He was getting upset...and this joke...or whatever it was...was going too far.

Bleys then said to Fiona, without taking his eyes off the empty spot, "Don't suppose you know any way of binding a spirit back into it's body?"

"There are ways," she murmurs, "But they aren't always successfull...in a way that the occupant would wish them to be...and I have no idea if they would work on one of us. Besides," she said, biting her lip, "shouldn't we, um, make certain this...person...is the real thing before we try it?"

Bleys nodded, "Of course. Of course. Flora, do you have any idea how long you can maintain this form?" He cocked his head, then blinked in surprise. "Flora claims that this was not that case. She was attacked in her room last night--this morning, whatever--by a Shadow of herself. She was hit, and the next thing she knew she was dead. She's rather befuddled."

Those words hit Benedict like a ton of bricks, and the color drained from his face. He felt really hot all of a sudden, and asked, an edge of hysteria creeping into his voice, "What did it look like?"

"I'm assuming like her, Ben," Bleys responded.

He shook his head, impatient, "No, no, was it a perfect copy, or what?" The answer to this was suddenly very important to Benedict, and his arm throbbed painfully, for the first time since he was wounded. He scratched at it absently.

Bleys nodded, "Yeah, I remember that clone of you we ran into Ben. Nasty business. Fi, we can confirm tha the body took a hit to the head, but I don't know what good it'll do..."

Callandra, in the meanwhile, had crept upon the little group. Her only comment to the wild theories running around was "Whoa". Bleys warned her to stay back--rather sensible on his part--and she did so.

Bleys nodded to the empty air again, saying, "Ok. Flora say she doesn't know how much longer she can do this...she's been kinda floating around all day. The evil version was stereotypically the evil twin; more pale and with a rather dreadful attitude."

Benedict stepped back to stand next to Callandra, extremely pale himself. He couldn't trust 'Flora's' words...no...no...it was Flora. It was. He was suddenly sure of that, as sure as anything he had ever been in his life. His arm throbbed, and he scratched at it more viciously, thinking, There's a whole set of them then...and they know us. And they're hunting us. The thought horrified him, even as he wondered how the transformation took place. His own 'twin' had taken a piece of himself through combat, through a bit. How did Flora's twin take Flora? He didn't want to know, though his mind was constructing several rather gory scenes on the process.

"But I don't think it's Flora's body in the infirmary," he said suddenly, breaking into their conversation. "It's the other, maybe."

Bleys spoke after a moment, "We can tell the bodies apart fairly easily; there's a good chance that the real corpse of Flora will have some artifact of blunt trama on the back of her head as that's how she was knocked out." Ben shook his head, knowing that there was false logic in there somewhere, but not quite grapsing it.

"Let's go see, but I think you'll find all the evidence you'll need indicating that it's her," he said, frowning slightly. "But I don't think... Let's just go see." It was hard to explain, but he already knew the wound would be there. It would be easy if it wasn't, and nothing in this was easy.

Bleys was again speaking to the nothingness, where the apparation was supposedly, "Yeah, Flora, Llew and I found you in the morning. You were...well...let's just say it really looked like a suicide."

The rest were just standing around. Rather than listen to the one-sided conversation all day, he asked impatiently, "Well? Let's go? I want to get this done with now."

Fiona shrugged, "Very well. Meet back up in the infirmary, then?" Ben nodded, and started walking, ignoring Bleys' talking. He glanced back at Callie and shrugged slightly, "Another time, I guess."

She smiled with all the exuberance of youth. "Hey, no sweat. There'll always be horses, right?" Ben nodded to her, spotting the rainbow trail that Fiona left behind as she Trumped out.

He turned and resumed walking, contemplating things that should have been impossible.

This page hosted by Get your own Free Home Page