Book Elders Trump Descriptions
Benedict
Then there was Benedict, tall and dour, thin; thin of body, thin
of face, wide of mind. He wore orange and yellow and brown and reminded
me of haystacks and pumpkins and scarecrows and the Legend of Sleepy Hollow.
He had a long, strong jaw and hazel eyes and brown hair that never curled.
He stood beside a tan horse and leaned upon a lance about which was twined
a rope of flowers. He seldom laughed.
Bleys
Then came a fiery bearded, flame-crowned man, dressed all in red
and orange, mainly of silk stuff, and he held a sword in his right hand
and a glass of wine in his left, and the devil himself danced behind his
eyes, as blue as Flora's, or Eric's. His chin was slight, but the beard
covered it. His sword was inlaid with an elaborate filigree of a golden
color. He wore two huge rings on his right hand and one on his left: an
emerald , a ruby, and a sapphire, respectively.
Brand
Then there was a figure both like Bleys and myself. My features,
though smaller, my eyes, Bleys' hair, beardless. He wore a riding suit
of green and sat atop a white horse, heading toward the dexter side of
the card. There was a quality of both strength and weakness, questing and
abandonment about him. I both approved and disapproved, liked and was repelled
by, this one.
Caine
Then came the swarthy, dark-eyed countenance of Caine, dressed all
in satin that was black and green, wearing a dark three-cornered hat set
at a rakish angle, a green plume of feathers trailing down the back. He
was standing in profile, one arm akimbo, and the toes of his boots curled
upwards, and he wore an emerald-studded dagger at his belt.
Corwin
Green eyes, black hair, dressed in black and silver, yes. I had
on a cloak and it was slightly furled as by a wind. I had on black boots,
like Eric's, and I too bore a blade, only mine was heavier, though not
quite as long as his. I had my gloves on and they were silver and scaled.
The clasp at my neck was cast in the form of a silver rose. Me, Corwin.
Deirdre
...and then there was a black-haired girl with the same blue eyes,
and her hair hung long and she was dressed all in black, with a girdle
of silver about her waist. My eyes filled with tears, why I don't know.
Her name was Deirdre.
Eric
Then there was Eric. Handsome by anyone's standards, his hair was
so dark as to be almost blue. His beard curled around the mouth that always
smiled, and he was dressed simply in a leather jacket and leggings, a plain
cloak, high black boots, and he wore a red sword belt bearing a long silvery
saber and clasped with a ruby, and his high cloak collar round his head
was lined with red and the trimmings of his sleeves matched it. His hands,
thumbs hooked behind his belt, were terribly strong and prominent. A pair
of black gloves jutted from the belt near his right hip.
Fiona
Fiona -five two, perhaps, in height- green eyes fixed on Flora's
own blue as they spoke, there beside the fireplace, hair more than compensating
for the vacant hearth, smoldering, reminded me, as always, of something
from which the artists had just drawn back, setting aside his tools, questions
slowly forming behind his smile. The place at the base of her throat where
his thumb had notched the collarbone always drew my eyes as the mark of
a master craftsman, especially when she raised her head, quizzical or imperious,
to regard us taller others. She smiled faintly, just then, doubtless aware
of my gaze, an almost clairvoyant faculty the acceptance of which has never
deprived of its ability to disconcert.
Flora
The woman behind the desk wore a wide-collared, V-necked dress of
blue-green, had long hair and low bangs, all of a cross between sunset
clouds and the outer edge of a candle flame in an otherwise dark room,
and natural I somehow knew, and her eyes behind glasses I didn't think
she needed were as blue as Lake Erie at three o'clock on a cloudless summer
afternoon; and the color of her compressed smile matched her hair.
Gerard
And a big, powerful man regarded me from the next card. He resembled
me quite strongly, save that his jaw was heavier, and I knew he was bigger
than I, though slower. His strength was a thing out of legend. He wore
a dressing gown of blue and gray clasped around the middle with a wide,
black belt, and he stood laughing. About his neck, on a heavy cord, there
hung a silver hunting horn. He wore a fringe beard and a light mustache.
In his right hand he held a goblet of wine.
Julian
Next, there was the passive countenance of Julian, dark hair hanging
long, blue eyes containing neither passion nor compassion. He was dressed
completely in scaled white armor, not silver or metallic-colored, but looking
as if it had been enameled.
Llewella
Next was Llewella, whose hair matched her jade-colored eyes, dressed
in shimmering gray and green with a lavender belt, and looking moist and
sad. For some reason, I knew she was not like the rest of us. But she,
too, was my sister.
Random
...a wily-looking little man, with a sharp nose and a laughing mouth
and a shock of straw-colored hair. He was dressed in something like a Renaissance
costume of orange, red, and brown. He wore long hose and a tight-fitting
embroidered doublet. And I knew him. His name was Random.