On the matter of
Venesch, my... self walks four paths: that of a soldier, that of a
Scion of Amber and Lord of Order, that of an ally which Venesch didn’t
know he had (and probably still doesn’t), and that of a... what?
I don’t know what to call it. Let us start with the simpler
paths, then.
While simpler, the path of the soldier is ugly and twisted. It’s full of anger and rationalization. I have to be careful as I walk it so that my irritation doesn’t overrun what little reason I have.
Venesch has claimed the King’s Justice for a soldier of Amber. Which I find a bit... convenient since he certainly didn’t seem to be a soldier of Amber in the garden the other night. Then, it was all “Oh woe is me. The King has dismissed me and no one will take me in.” Now, it’s all, “She attacked a soldier of Amber.” I feel that you can’t have it both ways. Our service in return for His Justice, that’s the way it works. But if Venesch wants to walk that path, I’m willing.
So, okay. Venesch has decided that he’s a soldier of Amber. But then, so am I. He’s a member of the Amber Guard; I’m a Ranger. Different branches of service; but still.
Furthermore, Venesch is no longer the Captain of Amber’s Guard. By his own doing. Yet I remain... Second in Command of the Rangers, I guess. It’s never been something that Vista and I bothered ourselves about, but I reckon that’s about the way it falls out. That means that, despite the differing branches of service thing, I figure I’m either Venesch’s former military peer or— more likely— currently his ‘superior officer.’ (‘Course this whole line of reasoning is really flawed from the Ranger perspective, but what the hell.)
Now, I figure that if a military peer or superior officer sees a soldier of Amber engaging in destructive behavior, endangering military assets or threatening to make war on the King of Amber, it’s that peer/officer’s oath-bound duty to put a stop to it. I suppose courtesy dictates that one should contact the offending soldier’s commander, but I didn’t have time for that. I did as best as I could under the circumstances, given their immediacy and seriousness.
Besides, I have noooo idea who Venesch’s current commander is and I was already under orders from the Regent to vacate the premises. So, first put a stop to the unsoldierly behavior—then carry out my own orders.
As a fellow Soldier of Amber, what I did to Venesch was carry out military justice, not ‘assault upon a soldier of the King, treason and a breach of the King's Peace.’ And if Venesch really wants to walk this path, I figure it’ll end up with him paying a visit to the stockade.
But stockade or no, I won’t release Venesch from my custody until he truly is a soldier of Amber once more. And since he’s promised me that he won’t kill himself while in my custody, this path ends with Venesch still alive.
But it’s an ugly path and it makes my boots stink. I wish he wouldn’t force this one on me.
The path of a Scion of Amber is cold, cold, cold. I don’t like it at all. But I can’t deny that it’s there and that it has influenced me.
We ‘Lords of Order,’ as Brennan would have us, are fighting a war for our very survival. We’re engaged in open hostilities with at least three major opponents and their forces: the Dragon of Arcadia, the Chaosian tribe/entity Borel, and now, the Moonriders. And while Venesch may not have been aware of the Moonriders’ return while he was making his decision in the garden, he certainly was aware of both the Dragon and Borel’s enmity.
Even before the current hostilities, the attrition rate among us ‘Lords of Order’ was bad. But now it’s getting worse. Only the fact that my Aunts and Uncles have hidden many of their progeny away keeps our numbers up. And if we should fall?
All of the ‘Ordered’ universes fall with us. All of the places with green grass and breathable air. All of the cities and castles and farms and forests. All of the families and allies who have suffered. All of the soldiers and their honor. All of them. Gone.
And there is Venesch. A man who has fought the forces of Chaos. A man who has seen the power of the Dragon. A man who has— maybe— fought the Moonriders? The dark things from Weirmonken? I don’t know. But a man with years, decades, centuries of skill, experience, knowledge and understanding. Of our enemies, of ourselves.
This is NOT the time to let such a resource to slip through our fingers.
And so, though this valued servant of Amber begged me to release him, I would not. I set my will against his, raised my hand to express that will and would not and will not let him go. The times are too dark. We need him still.
I hate it, I hate it, I hate it.
I have always felt that were I to express anything into the Ordered universes, it was freedom. Wildness. To cut so directly against my own grain, to make someone else a prisoner when I cannot endure such myself? It hurts, oh it hurts.
This is... not something I can explain to Venesch. Nor is it something that I will speak of in his hearing. But should I ever need to trace this path for another ‘Lord of Order’— Prince Jerod, the King, Prince Garrett— I will. This cold horrible path that demands that Venesch remain alive.
The next path, that of an ally which Venesch does not know he has, is... dappled. And hidden. As all the finest paths are.
I... do not know Venesch. Until that eve in the garden, I doubt we had traded more than a sentence or two. But it has never been far from my mind that in two separate wars he has held the heights while I held the depths. It has never escaped me that he serves the Princes who murdered his men. As do I. I cannot forget that his first and finest oath was to Oberon, the King. As was mine, though mine was sworn through his son Prince Julian.
There is a depth of kinship within me for Venesch that I suspect he will never understand. And would probably reject were he to discover it. That’s fine. It’s not his emotion to hide, it’s mine.
And there’s more. I stand in quiet awe of Venesch’s ability to survive among the rat-bastard Scions of Amber and yet remain true to himself and his honor. His influence, his touch on Jerod are a miracle. Men like Venesch should be the reason we exist. To move and be moved by them is what lifts us from monsters to gods. How could I possibly stand by and let that be crushed?
We are... too different, Venesch and I, to ever truly be friends. It’s hard to speak to Venesch. Even when I am capable of speech. And now, of course, this wonderful little interlude stands between us. But despite Venesch’s barbs and his justifiable anger, I can somehow find the patience — on this green dappled path — not to strike back. Not to not flare up into incomprehensible jargon. Or worse, inarticulate violence.
Instead, I work quietly and as best as I can, in Venesch’s own best interests. To protect him from others’ prurient curiosity or rumormongering ways. To protect him from my own temper. To protect his dignity, honor and reputation, even as I struggle to understand them (having none of my own.)
And I do not protect Venesch because he is Jerod’s friend. But because, unknowing, his is mine. So this secret path, that I will never speak of, ends in my gift of life for Venesch.
The fourth path is the hardest to speak of. Perhaps because it has the least to do with thoughts. And words.
I... hear... things... No, rather let us say that perceptions... sweep strongly through me. Constantly. I consider this a mixed blessing. There are times when I feel as though I am completely chasing my own tail. And there are times when I know that I am far closer to what is than anyone who separates themselves from the universe by a barrier of language can be. There are times when I hear those around me so... very clearly. And there are times when my perceptions are so immediate that I lose the ability to speak.
I was... sensitized, exposed, the night I met Venesch. The dinner... all those voices; Brennan’s anger, Brita’s delight, Garrett’s worry (then fear), Caine’s outrage, Brij’s boldness, Paige’s concern (then fury), Ossian watching, watching, watching, Lilly’s pain... Shock, outrage, panic, Bleys— of all of them— playing. With purpose. I... eyes wide, ears open, words gone.
And then I met Venesch. His pain, his shame, his horror, his fear for his family, his desperate need to make it right and more desperate desire to make it stop. It all echoed so very strongly within me. I could not help but hear him. And once I heard, I could not help but... help. My heart bled for him.
But Venesch... he is a very civilized man. He has many, many barriers between himself and what is. I was... pretty far from civilized right then. Though I tried, I couldn’t help him. Couldn’t speak well. Couldn’t understand. Couldn’t reason.
But still, I had to save him. He... is a good man. A true man. That he is good and true shouldn’t kill him. And he in turn shouldn’t kill that which is good and true. I don’t understand why a good, beautiful, true *real* thing should end because of such an artificial and abstract word as ‘honor.’
So, my wild perceptions and my uncivilized ways bring me down this path too. Venesch is too good a thing to be destroyed by a stupid word.
It is a rare thing for so many of my paths to meet in the same place. Usually, I jump around from clearing to brook to meadow to glen as I feel so moved. I flit, fly, run and bound from purpose to commitment to meaning to insight. All the while moving, moving, moving. That so much of myself has come to stillness here... it must be important.
And so, for as long as I have a say, for as long as I have the will, for as long as I can find a way, Venesch will live.
While simpler, the path of the soldier is ugly and twisted. It’s full of anger and rationalization. I have to be careful as I walk it so that my irritation doesn’t overrun what little reason I have.
Venesch has claimed the King’s Justice for a soldier of Amber. Which I find a bit... convenient since he certainly didn’t seem to be a soldier of Amber in the garden the other night. Then, it was all “Oh woe is me. The King has dismissed me and no one will take me in.” Now, it’s all, “She attacked a soldier of Amber.” I feel that you can’t have it both ways. Our service in return for His Justice, that’s the way it works. But if Venesch wants to walk that path, I’m willing.
So, okay. Venesch has decided that he’s a soldier of Amber. But then, so am I. He’s a member of the Amber Guard; I’m a Ranger. Different branches of service; but still.
Furthermore, Venesch is no longer the Captain of Amber’s Guard. By his own doing. Yet I remain... Second in Command of the Rangers, I guess. It’s never been something that Vista and I bothered ourselves about, but I reckon that’s about the way it falls out. That means that, despite the differing branches of service thing, I figure I’m either Venesch’s former military peer or— more likely— currently his ‘superior officer.’ (‘Course this whole line of reasoning is really flawed from the Ranger perspective, but what the hell.)
Now, I figure that if a military peer or superior officer sees a soldier of Amber engaging in destructive behavior, endangering military assets or threatening to make war on the King of Amber, it’s that peer/officer’s oath-bound duty to put a stop to it. I suppose courtesy dictates that one should contact the offending soldier’s commander, but I didn’t have time for that. I did as best as I could under the circumstances, given their immediacy and seriousness.
Besides, I have noooo idea who Venesch’s current commander is and I was already under orders from the Regent to vacate the premises. So, first put a stop to the unsoldierly behavior—then carry out my own orders.
As a fellow Soldier of Amber, what I did to Venesch was carry out military justice, not ‘assault upon a soldier of the King, treason and a breach of the King's Peace.’ And if Venesch really wants to walk this path, I figure it’ll end up with him paying a visit to the stockade.
But stockade or no, I won’t release Venesch from my custody until he truly is a soldier of Amber once more. And since he’s promised me that he won’t kill himself while in my custody, this path ends with Venesch still alive.
But it’s an ugly path and it makes my boots stink. I wish he wouldn’t force this one on me.
The path of a Scion of Amber is cold, cold, cold. I don’t like it at all. But I can’t deny that it’s there and that it has influenced me.
We ‘Lords of Order,’ as Brennan would have us, are fighting a war for our very survival. We’re engaged in open hostilities with at least three major opponents and their forces: the Dragon of Arcadia, the Chaosian tribe/entity Borel, and now, the Moonriders. And while Venesch may not have been aware of the Moonriders’ return while he was making his decision in the garden, he certainly was aware of both the Dragon and Borel’s enmity.
Even before the current hostilities, the attrition rate among us ‘Lords of Order’ was bad. But now it’s getting worse. Only the fact that my Aunts and Uncles have hidden many of their progeny away keeps our numbers up. And if we should fall?
All of the ‘Ordered’ universes fall with us. All of the places with green grass and breathable air. All of the cities and castles and farms and forests. All of the families and allies who have suffered. All of the soldiers and their honor. All of them. Gone.
And there is Venesch. A man who has fought the forces of Chaos. A man who has seen the power of the Dragon. A man who has— maybe— fought the Moonriders? The dark things from Weirmonken? I don’t know. But a man with years, decades, centuries of skill, experience, knowledge and understanding. Of our enemies, of ourselves.
This is NOT the time to let such a resource to slip through our fingers.
And so, though this valued servant of Amber begged me to release him, I would not. I set my will against his, raised my hand to express that will and would not and will not let him go. The times are too dark. We need him still.
I hate it, I hate it, I hate it.
I have always felt that were I to express anything into the Ordered universes, it was freedom. Wildness. To cut so directly against my own grain, to make someone else a prisoner when I cannot endure such myself? It hurts, oh it hurts.
This is... not something I can explain to Venesch. Nor is it something that I will speak of in his hearing. But should I ever need to trace this path for another ‘Lord of Order’— Prince Jerod, the King, Prince Garrett— I will. This cold horrible path that demands that Venesch remain alive.
The next path, that of an ally which Venesch does not know he has, is... dappled. And hidden. As all the finest paths are.
I... do not know Venesch. Until that eve in the garden, I doubt we had traded more than a sentence or two. But it has never been far from my mind that in two separate wars he has held the heights while I held the depths. It has never escaped me that he serves the Princes who murdered his men. As do I. I cannot forget that his first and finest oath was to Oberon, the King. As was mine, though mine was sworn through his son Prince Julian.
There is a depth of kinship within me for Venesch that I suspect he will never understand. And would probably reject were he to discover it. That’s fine. It’s not his emotion to hide, it’s mine.
And there’s more. I stand in quiet awe of Venesch’s ability to survive among the rat-bastard Scions of Amber and yet remain true to himself and his honor. His influence, his touch on Jerod are a miracle. Men like Venesch should be the reason we exist. To move and be moved by them is what lifts us from monsters to gods. How could I possibly stand by and let that be crushed?
We are... too different, Venesch and I, to ever truly be friends. It’s hard to speak to Venesch. Even when I am capable of speech. And now, of course, this wonderful little interlude stands between us. But despite Venesch’s barbs and his justifiable anger, I can somehow find the patience — on this green dappled path — not to strike back. Not to not flare up into incomprehensible jargon. Or worse, inarticulate violence.
Instead, I work quietly and as best as I can, in Venesch’s own best interests. To protect him from others’ prurient curiosity or rumormongering ways. To protect him from my own temper. To protect his dignity, honor and reputation, even as I struggle to understand them (having none of my own.)
And I do not protect Venesch because he is Jerod’s friend. But because, unknowing, his is mine. So this secret path, that I will never speak of, ends in my gift of life for Venesch.
The fourth path is the hardest to speak of. Perhaps because it has the least to do with thoughts. And words.
I... hear... things... No, rather let us say that perceptions... sweep strongly through me. Constantly. I consider this a mixed blessing. There are times when I feel as though I am completely chasing my own tail. And there are times when I know that I am far closer to what is than anyone who separates themselves from the universe by a barrier of language can be. There are times when I hear those around me so... very clearly. And there are times when my perceptions are so immediate that I lose the ability to speak.
I was... sensitized, exposed, the night I met Venesch. The dinner... all those voices; Brennan’s anger, Brita’s delight, Garrett’s worry (then fear), Caine’s outrage, Brij’s boldness, Paige’s concern (then fury), Ossian watching, watching, watching, Lilly’s pain... Shock, outrage, panic, Bleys— of all of them— playing. With purpose. I... eyes wide, ears open, words gone.
And then I met Venesch. His pain, his shame, his horror, his fear for his family, his desperate need to make it right and more desperate desire to make it stop. It all echoed so very strongly within me. I could not help but hear him. And once I heard, I could not help but... help. My heart bled for him.
But Venesch... he is a very civilized man. He has many, many barriers between himself and what is. I was... pretty far from civilized right then. Though I tried, I couldn’t help him. Couldn’t speak well. Couldn’t understand. Couldn’t reason.
But still, I had to save him. He... is a good man. A true man. That he is good and true shouldn’t kill him. And he in turn shouldn’t kill that which is good and true. I don’t understand why a good, beautiful, true *real* thing should end because of such an artificial and abstract word as ‘honor.’
So, my wild perceptions and my uncivilized ways bring me down this path too. Venesch is too good a thing to be destroyed by a stupid word.
It is a rare thing for so many of my paths to meet in the same place. Usually, I jump around from clearing to brook to meadow to glen as I feel so moved. I flit, fly, run and bound from purpose to commitment to meaning to insight. All the while moving, moving, moving. That so much of myself has come to stillness here... it must be important.
And so, for as long as I have a say, for as long as I have the will, for as long as I can find a way, Venesch will live.
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