Chapter 085: Nightmare Visitor

 

 

"Watch out now

Take care, beware

Of thoughts that linger

Windin' round inside your head

And the pain that often lingers

In the dead of night

In the dead of night

Beware of darkness"

 

Beware of Darkness - Spock's Beard

 

 

Despite all the pressing issues I ought to have seen to, I found that having to wait for one day for Random to settle on a course of action wasn't too much of an annoyance. I decided to spend most of my time down in the city with my father Vilcon; enjoying a little quality time, so to speak. However, I found that I couldn't quite bring myself to tell him about some of the things that had happened to me lately. I just didn't want him to worry too much about me, and hearing his son had recently been residing in a damp and dark dungeon would do more than a little to upset him. Also, I decided not to mention Diana's wedding plans just yet, since Random's reservations had somewhat tempered my own enthusiasm about this. I first wanted to see how this allegiance issue was to be resolved before I would make the news public.

 

My father had some reason to be taciturn in certain areas too, it seemed. There were some moments when he would fall silent and his face would take on a somewhat somber expression. Finally, he let on that he had recently had another visit from my mother, but he didn't tell me anything else beyond that they had talked. His mood told me enough, though, and I didn't press him for more information. This way, all in all, we managed to keep things quite pleasant and civil, and the hours simply flew by.

 

At dinner that night it turned out that most of my relatives had already flown the coop, and but a handful remained, making this a far less formal event. Before we started, however, Random took me aside for a moment to inform me that he had reconsidered and had decided to postpone taking any actions against Flora for the time being, but he assured me that when he was going to invite her over I would be the first he would contact, and he would certainly consider me as a member of the delegation. My reaction was a half-nod, half-shrug. On the one hand his decision left me free to head back towards Quendor, and it also put my appointment in Sherwyn forward, but on the other hand I wondered whether deferral was really the best course of action, since it would give Flora more time to consider her options. Ultimately, however, he was the King, and I didn't feel an urgent need to question his decisions right then.

 

Like I said, most relatives had left now that all official business had been taken care of, making the dining hall seem nearly empty. Aside from Random and Vialle, Julian and Gerard were present, but then they appeared to spend most of their time in or around Amber. Caine was there, talking to Julian, and Martin was also still around, probably trying to play the dutiful son to ameliorate his dad. Finally, Rinaldo and Charles were sitting near Vialle, sharing a conversation.

 

I wondered a bit about Melusine's absence, especially since I didn't think Random would let her wander too far from Amber right now, and out of curiosity I asked Gerard, who was sitting next to me, what he figured her status in Amber was going to be. He replied that in his opinion a child should never be held responsible for the actions of their parent, even though the reverse was standard practise. As far as Melusine was concerned, she had made her position clear enough for him. Ultimately, of course, we were all related, and she couldn't help it that she was Flora's daughter, could she? However, he could well understand how her loyalties had made her quietly assist her mother up till now. Of course, he wasn't as naïve as I may make him out to be: he was certainly harbouring a few doubts about Melusine, but overall his attitude towards her was rather friendly, as I had come to expect from him.

 

Something he mentioned in his reply made my mind shoot of on another train of thought, something about children and parents. "You touched upon the issue of parents being responsible for their children's actions," I said. "How far does that rule stretch, I wonder? I mean, is it something that will go on indefinitely?"

 

"As far as I know," he said, "it does, until such time when the parent might decide to wash their hands of their offspring. That's one option that is always open to them: renounce the blood tie and leave the child to fend for themselves, although some would never take this step and would choose to enforce a strong sense of discipline instead. After all, there would be some loss of face involved, since it would be tantamount to admitting that you have failed in your task as a parent."

 

"But apart from that there are no other options? I mean, couldn't a parent just say at a certain point that they think their child is mature enough to handle their own responsibilities? It would be a more friendly way of settling these issues, surely?"

 

"I hadn't really thought about it that way," Gerard mused. "But then it hasn't come up before. Oberon simply never gave us the impression that he thought us capable of taking our own reponsibilities, he would just order us around. I guess his policy just got adopted into the Family law, one way or another."

"I think it's an issue that will be bound to come up, sooner or later. Take my situation, for instance. I've got seven children by now, who differ but very little in age from myself, in comparison to the general age differences in the Family I mean."

 

"But physical age isn't everything, is it?" he interjected. "It's a sort of spiritual maturity that really matters in an Amberite." Yeah, sure, as if everyone among my aunts and uncles were that mature. I took care not to let my scepticism show, however. "I realise that not all relationships between Amberite parents and children are the same," Gerard continued. "Deirdre doesn't appear to interfere too much in your ways, and I know Caine to be rather reluctant in his parenting duties towards Murlas, but then his parentage may still be in question. And of course, you grew up without Deirdre's direct influence, so some degree of detachment would be understandable. Bleys, on the other hand, seems quite serious in his role as Boadice's adoptive father, and he clearly doesn't seem to think her mature enough to act on her own authority." At this I permitted myself a hint of a smile. "Corwin made a right mess of things, though," Gerard said with a frown. "Alright, there was that case of amnesia, but that doesn't excuse everything. I mean, Adrian and Alexander, how mature are they in a final analysis?"

 

"I don't know," I conceded, "but I think they're getting to be more so every day."

"No thanks to their father," he snorted.

"You never know. He might still be playing a part in the process." I decided to leave it at that for the moment. The relationship between parent and child would be a topic to bring up again at a later date, but before that it might be good for people at least to think about the issue. It was, or would be, very important to me, both in my position as Deirdre's son and from my own point of view as a parent of seven, but it had a very low priority compared to other matters.

 

Now that I was talking with Gerard, it was all but too easy to keep on going, though none of our other points of conversation were of any earth-shattering importance. Trade routes, mostly, and the Amber navy. A little about the local nobility, the people I knew from my youth. Something about the Golden Circle Shadows. Nothing crucial, but we carried on well after dinner and brandies, so I decided I might as well stay another night and leave for Quendor early in the morning.

 

I took my time getting there, too, for I wanted to get a good feel of the influence of the Enemy's corrupted Nexus power and to see whether it extended far beyond Quendor. Actually, its power was hardly detectable from more than a few Shadows away, but its presence in Quendor itself was stronger than ever. Much stronger even than I had sensed but a few days ago, which I found quite worrying.

 

Making sure to shift into the kind of stylish black suit I had become accustomed to during my earlier visits, I casually walked down the streets of Quendor city, daring its alien influences to spring out at me. There were still a lot of posters everywhere proclaiming the might and benevolence of Lucius, the Thaumos, and calling on everyone to support the Thaumacorps. The general mood in the city seemed oppressive, although this may only have been my own impression based on the face of this creep staring down at me from each and every wall, for the welcome I received at my usual hotel was as friendly as ever. It was a good thing I had taken the trouble to pay them a substatial advance, cause I quite enjoyed the luxury of the place and the growing familiarity of my usual suite.

 

Feeling a bit hungry, I ordered up some roomservice, yet during the wait I decided to try and do a little scouting. As soon as I tried to bring up the sign of the Pattern, however, an overwhelming throb of pain began to reverberate around my skull. During the last few shifts before my arrival in the Shadow I had experienced some mild interference from the Enemy's power, but now it was seriously dampening my abilities. After a moment's hesitation I chose to plunge ahead, though, whatever the consequences might be, for I wanted both to take a quick look at Miss Fabre's apartment and to test the restraints I would be working under.

 

I was lucky in that I already knew where to direct my gaze, cause I had barely enough time to glimpse through all of the rooms and ascertain that she was not at home. The entire apartment was cloaked in darkness, but I managed to make out that the place was a bit of a mess, as if someone had searched it and had not been too concerned about being detected afterwards. Finally, just before I had to pull back, I descried a slightly darker shape sitting near the window and smoking a cigarette. He was wearing a dark trenchcoat, and for a moment I thought he might be the same man who had answered the door the last time I had been there. I couldn't be sure, though, and I had no more time to make sure; with a headache that could have split the Pattern itself I collapsed back onto the bed and only came to my senses again when the hotel staff arrived with my meal.

 

The food helped a little, but only a little, and I'm sorry to say I didn't really do it the justice it deserved. Eating did calm me down somewhat, though, and despite the still lingering throb of pain I was beginning to feel rather drowsy. A relaxing shower was just enough to help me fall asleep. The night proved far from restful, however, for I had a quite disturbing dream.

 

I dreamt I was asleep, lying in my bed in my hotel room, though somehow I was uncannily aware of my surroundings. Suddenly, slowly, the door to my room opened, and a dark figure stepped inside. He wore a long coat and a hat with a brim that kept his features hidden. The only things I could make out as he moved towards the bed were his eyes: two scarlet dots burning with an unearthly light. Knowing this was a dream, I tried to wake up, but it didn't work, and to my alarm I found that I couldn't move a limb either. It seemed as if invisible bonds were keeping me tied to the bed. Panic gripped me and I started to fight, but still I couldn't even twitch so much as a finger.

 

The dark figure loomed menacingly over me now, his right hand reaching into his coat and producing some small object, undoubtedly threatening in nature. As his hand began its inevitable trajectory down towards my chest, I suddenly felt that I had somehow freed my own left arm. Immediately it shot upwards, intercepting the intruder's hand just before the dagger he was holding could plunge into my heart. He was strong, but I was stronger, and my sudden reaction had quite taken him by surprise. Cold moonlight played along the edges of his eerily carved weapon, but now that I had at least some freedom of action I wasn't as easily unnerved anymore. Keeping a firm grip on his wrist, I started to squeeze my hand shut, sincerely hoping I would shatter a few bones. My creepy visitor uttered a hissing noise, and suddenly he pulled away, his wrist seemingly turning to smoke. There was a rushing sound, the hat and the coat dropped onto the floor, and the dagger fell onto my heaving chest.

 

And then the ultimate cliché: I woke up. There was no dagger, there was no coat, there was no hat, there was simply no trace of the dark figure from my nightmare. Except for one thing: the door to my chamber stood open exactly as far as the hissing man had opened it.

 

My head still hurt like hell and I felt far from rested. Somehow I knew I wasn't going to enjoy my stay in Quendor this time.

 

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