Chapter 002: A Meeting In Dreams
As I woke again I felt a bit uncertain. Somehow it
seemed to me that everyone was busy making themselves useful (or at least trying
to), while I didn't have a clue as to what I could do to help. The longer I
thought about it, the more the whole situation seemed to be a case for either
warriors or sorcerors, and I'm neither. So what the hell had Random chosen me
for anyway?
My rational self put me in my place again. Random
hadn't chosen me specifically, it said, but our group as a whole. So what if I
lacked some skills and knowledge? The others would too, but as a group we might
be able to find the required answers, our total being more than the sum of the
parts, or something like that. Besides, my rational self continued, this wasn't
the real reason I was being so moody and uncertain. And my emotional self
concurred.
It was Suzanne.
I was missing her, plain and simple, and I still
felt pretty rotten about the way I had stood her up. There was also the matter
of the time differential between Shadow Earth and Amber. During my one day here
at the court a couple of days had passed for Suzanne, days with neither word nor
sign from me. If I didn't make up to her real soon her anger might turn into
bitterness and resentment. Hence my doubts about my role in our mission: I
simply didn't want to be here at this time!
Still, duty is duty, and (sadly) I had been raised
with at least some sense of it. Random was King, his word was Law, and our
problems were really too big to run off on some private affair (how important
though it might seem to me).
My musings from the night before returned to me
then. Yes, perhaps Aunt Flora might know a way to send Suze a message. After
all, she regularly resides on Shadow Earth, so she must have some servants and
acquaintances there. If she had some way to contact them on short notice...
My mood lifted a bit by these thoughts, I went to
the kitchens to grab a bite to eat. Alexander was there too, but I was too
caught up in the idea of asking Flora for her advice to stop for any kind of
conversation. He didn't seem to mind though. After a quick meal I tried to
locate Aunt Flora, but all the servants I questioned could supply me with were
blank looks and misdirections. Ah well, it's a big castle...
Of course she was in the place where I should have
looked first: her suite. I quickly explained my situation to her and she was
very understanding. Alas she had no way of making contact with Shadow Earth on
short notice, save for travelling there herself. She might be able to send a
message, but it would probably only arrive in a month's (local) time. It seemed
I had put my hopes up way too high again. Still, a month was better than never.
I told her I would try to compose something appropriate and send it to her when
it was finished. She offered her help on writing it, but I gracefully declined.
My feelings are still my own and I should be able to express them without any
outside help.
Suddenly I surprised myself by asking her for the
whereabouts of my Uncle Corwin's rooms. She began pointing me hither and yon,
but since her directions weren't all too clear to me she decided to show, not
tell. When we came to his door I felt a bit embarrassed. Why had I asked her
anyway? I wasn't sure. I felt a strange attraction to Uncle Corwin, something I
couldn't explain yet. Yes, I wanted to talk to him, but not now, and certainly
not with Flora looking over my shoulder. Overall she is very nice and friendly,
but it's also true she can be a bit too nosy at times. So I thanked her and
retired to my own rooms, already thinking about what I could tell Suze (or to be
more precise, what I couldn't tell her). As I had found me a pen, ink and some
paper, I suddely started remembering...
September in London. I had been on my trip
discovering Shadow Earth for almost a year now, and there was something about
this city that stuck with me. I had found myself a place to stay and spent most
of my time either working on or enjoying art.
My latest discovery had been rock music. The sheer
raw emotions that some of these bands put into their songs was quite refreshing
to me, being raised on the more traditional, emotionally more restricted ballads
and epics of Amber. Not that there was anything wrong with them, but these rock
groups seemed to be able to put a whole lifetime of sorrow or anger or any other
emotion in a three minute song.
My new fascination manifested itself in a rapidly
growing CD and record collection. Money is never a problem for a Lord of Amber,
and besides I had even managed to sell some watercolour landscapes I had painted
here (not my best work, but not my least either). I tried to keep my expenses at
a reasonable level though, since too much money might attract unwelcome
attention.
Anyway, there I was experiencing all this new
music, when I decided to try a live concert for a change. I had heard it was yet
something different altogether from the studio music I had gotten used to and
curiosity got the best of me. That Saturday there was to be a concert at the
Marquee Club and since the band was still relatively new it didn't prove to be a
problem to obtain a ticket. The name of the band was Morpheus Dreams and it was
by this name alone that I became interested. It somehow struck a chord deep
inside me, I guess.
The doors opened at seven, while the band was
supposed to be on at eight. I soon discovered that my fashionable shirt wasn't
all too fashionable on this occasion. Most of the other people at the Marquee
were either wearing something that should have been thrown away ages ago, or a
T-shirt of the group of their choice. There were some Morpheus Dreams T-shirts
on sale at the entrance and I decided to buy one. I changed into it in the men's
room and deposited my shirt along with my coat at the cloak-room. At least I had
had the good sense to put on a pair of jeans.
The Marquee itself was a bit of a disappointment.
The hall was barely as large as a medium-sized bar back in Amber and already
full of smoke and the smell of beer. I found myself a place at the bar and had a
few glasses of wine while waiting for the show to begin. Although the concert
wasn't sold out there was quite a crowd for such an unknown band. I got into a
conversation with some guys and learned that most of the people here were
die-hard fans who had seen the band before. It seemed that they travelled to
every concert the band would play, wherever it might be. I smiled when I tried
to picture an Amberite bard with such a following. Hard to imagine.
Finally at eight o'clock sharp Morpheus Dreams hit
the stage. My first thoughts had something to do with the volume, which had been
set at a level that would be audible in Scotland. Yet after a while I got used
to it and I started enjoying the show. Although the musicians were a bit crammed
together on the tiny stage, they gave it all they got. Their set was a mixture
of own compositions and cover songs from bands like Yes, Marillion and Pink
Floyd. The covers were very good, but their own songs really hit the spot.
The lead singer, a girl with long, curling red
hair, drew most of my attention. Besides the fact that she was very pretty, she
also had a great deal of charisma and stage personality. At one time she would
really make contact with the crowd, seemingly self-assured and powerful, while a
few moments later she would somehow take a few steps back and draw in on
herself, seeming much more fragile and weak than before. I couldn't say for sure
how much of it was real and how much of it just was her act, but I could tell
that she put a whole lot of personal feelings in each of her songs.
After the concert I walked home in a kind of bliss.
Was I in love? No, not really, just a slight case of infatuation, I'd say. She
was really a girl who knew how to make an impact. My state of mind was very
amusing to Wylde, who kept pestering me about it for weeks, but she just
couldn't succeed in irritating me. Nothing can when I'm like that.
That was how I first met Suzanne.
Thinking back on that day I also recalled that
Suzanne always said that I was an incurable romantic. Sometimes I wondered
whether this romanticism was what attracted her to me in the first place.
I put a real effort into writing the most sincere
and apologising letter possible, but at the end of the afternoon I still wasn't
quite pleased with the final result. There was too much vagueness in the whole
thing and I regretted that I had never been brave enough to tell Suze the truth
about my family and Amber. I guess I should do some soulsearching to find out
whether or not I truly loved her. And if I found I did, I owed her a full
explanation the next time we met. The truth and nothing but the truth, so help
me God.
That evening there was another family banquet,
although a lot more informal than the day before. It is a bit of a family
tradition to dine together while staying at the castle. From our little group of
troubleshooters only Algo was absent; probably too busy for a regular meal.
There were seven of our other relatives present: Corwin, Flora, Llewella,
Martin, Rinaldo, Random and Vialle. My missing uncles would probably still be in
Arden and Aunt Fiona must be at the site of that Primal Pattern. I hadn't seen
Coral since Dworkin had whisked her away. I wondered whether anyone else had.
Informality meant no particular seating order and
since I was still deep in thoughts I just found me a convenient spot next to
Aunt Llewella, not looking for any kind of conversation. The other seat beside
me was taken by Adrian, who apparently felt a great need to talk to me, for he
immediately dropped some remarks which normally would have gotten me talking at
once. Sadly for him I couldn't be stirred from my reveries, and after a few more
polite attempts he also lapsed into silence.
Halfway through the meal I came to a decision of
sorts. Since my problems with Suzanne couldn't be resolved at this point,
brooding over them probably wouldn't do me any good. It would be better to let
it rest and let my mind work on other things. I focussed my attention on the
outside world again. Several people were making polite conversation. I noticed
Murlas at the other end of the table discussing something with Corwin, who
seemed a bit more attentive. I glanced beside me at Adrian. He seemed somewhat
lost and unhappy. Feeling a bit sorry for him because of my earlier
unresponsiveness, I asked him whether his posing for Algo had gone well. His
immediate change of mood reminded me somewhat of a puppy finally getting some
attention.
"Well," he said, "Algo said it had
been alright. I felt a bit uncomfortable though. I had expected a quiet session,
so he would be able to concentrate fully on his work, but instead he made me
pose in the room where his group was staying. They were all milling about,
practising their routines, working on chores, etcetera. And some of the ladies
were just barely dressed! I found it all a bit awkward really."
I tried hard to keep the smile from my face.
Apparently Adrian wasn't used to the more chaotic of artistic lifestyles. Truth
to tell, I found him a bit too highborn for my taste, but I might be mistaken. I
still didn't know him too well.
"So," he continued, "have you found
out anything yet?"
"You mean about our problems? No of course
not."
I couldn't help but notice the look of
disappointment on his face. Did he really have such high expectations of me? And
I was probably just as new at this as him.
"Look," I said, "we can't really do
anything until the Trumps are finished. We simply need them if we're to keep
contact. And besides, to tell you the truth, I still haven't the foggiest idea
where we should start looking for some answers. This whole thing is way beyond
me!"
We left it at that, but he still seemed
disappointed. Well, it wasn't my fault. I always feel uneasy when people expect
too much from me. They should get a better grip on reality. Still, I thought
after a while, I could see why Adrian had singled me out from our group.
Alexander he disliked too much to trust, Murlas simply looked too sinister, Algo
was too artistic for his highborn feelings and Vincent kept too much to himself.
On the other hand, people always have a tendency to instantly like and trust me.
I can't really help it and on some occasions it might work in the wrong way,
like in this case. Maybe I should get me a sinister looking scar on the cheek or
something...
Near the end of our meal I asked Random about the
situation in Arden. He told us that the main attacking force had been
successfully repelled. Yet there still seemed to be some problems, but he was
confident Benedict would find a way to deal with it. What would we do without
Benedict?
After dinner most of us headed for the drawing-room
for some drinks and more conversation. Adrian told me he would have liked to go
to Arden to help in the battle, but he hadn't been allowed. He really craved for
some action. I just repeated my earlier statements about having to wait for the
Trumps to be finished before we could take some course of action. Alexander, who
was walking just behind us, overheard my remark and joined our conversation.
"Wouldn't it be better to head for some Shadow
where time flows a lot faster than here in Amber? Then Algo would have more than
enough time to draw and copy those Trumps."
"Hmm," I answered, "it might work.
But then again the trip to such a Shadow might take a lot more time than we're
spending right now. If we had a Trump for such a place things would be
different."
He could see my point of view and though we talked
some more about it, we couldn't think of another way to speed up the Trump
drawings.
When I went to fetch me another glass of wine I
spotted Uncle Corwin standing alone in a corner, looking a bit morose. Again I
felt this strange attraction. On an impulse I took my glass and went to talk to
him.
"Uncle Corwin. We didn't have any opportunity
to talk yesterday, with all those strange happenings and such. And I've wanted
to meet you for quite some time now."
"You're Dorian, aren't you? Deirdre's son?
Yes, you do look somewhat like her."
A barely disguised look of sorrow as he mentioned
her name.
"I didn't realise that I do. I have heard that
you were closer to her than any of the others, and I was wondering if you might
be able to tell me a little more about her. You see, I never knew her personally
and the others have told me only generalities. And I somehow feel a great need
to learn more about her."
His look was even more full of pain.
"She always was the best of us all. So good,
so beautiful, so loving. I still dream about her, you know. She's always trying
to tell me something, but I can never hear her."
"That sounds remarkably like the dream I had
last night. She was there, in a mirror, and she tried to tell me something, but
I just couldn't hear her voice. Nor was I able to reach her. I got the feeling
though that I really should know what she was trying to say, that it was very
important."
"Yes, well, she's really dead. I mean, do you
have her Trump?"
"No, I haven't. I only got a few of
them."
He searched through her own deck and produced the
one with my Mother, lovely and smiling.
"Here, you can feel it. The card simply isn't
cold anymore. That only happens when the person on it is dead."
I looked up from the card to see there were tears
in his eyes. I felt a bit ashamed and wondered if it weren't better to leave him
in peace, but as I looked closer at him I also noticed a certain bit of
relaxation taking place. Maybe this was good therapy for him. After all, he had
spent an awful lot of time imprisoned, only to be confronted with more problems
at his homecoming party. Yes, I decided it was better to keep him talking.
So we talked. He told me some stories about Mum,
and by and by I felt I had done the right thing. Although talking and even
thinking about her was still painful for him, I could tell that my company made
him relax and lifted his mood a little bit. Later, when I went up to my room, I
felt pretty good about the whole thing. Who knows, when Corwin would be a bit
more recovered he might be able to help us with our mission. I always heard that
he was pretty good at this troubleshooting business.
Night again. To sleep. Perchance to dream. Ay,
there's the rub. It was the same dream as the night before, though different.
Again, my Mother in the mirror. This time she didn't try to speak, she merely
beckoned. Again I tried to reach her and much to my surprise my hands
encountered no resistance from the glass. Dorian through the looking-glass, into
a hazy kind of tunnel. My mother had started walking away from me and I followed
her. As much as I tried to gain on her though, the distance between her and me
remained the same.
Suddenly both she and the tunnel were gone. Instead
I found myself in the middle of a long, seemingly endless corridor, wherein the
walls were almost entirely hung with mirrors. Mirrors of all kinds of shapes and
sizes, with all kinds of different frames. Puzzled I looked around me. Wasn't
there a bit of old folklore about a corridor like this that I had heard about. I
couldn't remember clearly.
I noticed that one mirror on my left didn't reflect
the image it should have reflected. Instead I found myself looking at some kind
of landscape: a clearing in a forest in broad daylight, rocks and boulders
overgrown with moss lying everywhere. At one end I could see a glimpse of some
kind of decaying structure. As I studied the picture I wondered where in Shadow
this might be. Looking at it I could almost imagine being there, almost see the
leaves gently swaying in a breeze, almost hear the noises of the forest
creatures, almost smell all the usual forest smells.
Almost? No, it was real. Somehow I found myself in
the place I had seen in the mirror. I looked around me, but there was no trace
of the corridor. Well, how did I get here?
I glanced at the decaying structure, which seemed
to be some kind of ruined chapel, and to my surprise I saw another person
studying it attentively. He noticed my presence and turned towards me. Another
surprise (this dream was full of them): it was Murlas.
"Well, hello," I said. "What are you
doing in my dream?"
"This isn't a dream," he answered.
"This is very real."
I was puzzled. This might be a normal response from
a dream-person, but the mildly confused look he gave me as he said it almost
convinced me otherwise. Perhaps I'd better play it safe and assume this was as
real as he said it was.
"Where are we then? And how did you get
here?"
"Oh, I don't know. Somewhere in Shadow
probably. And I was brought here by my Father to accomplish some task. He didn't
tell me what though."
"Wait a minute. You mean Caine. Isn't he
supposed to be dead."
"Yes, that's what I thought. But apparently
that information was false."
Hmm. Stranger still. Then again, I had been brought
here by my Mother, who was also supposed to be deceased. Perhaps this was a
dream after all.
I told Murlas a sketchy version of how I had found
my way here. Meanwhile I looked around some more and and saw something I didn't
like very much. Between the rocks and boulders lay various bones, presumably of
human origin, and most of them had been cracked open to get to the marrow. Not a
good sign. I also noticed that I was wearing my usual clothes, complete with my
Mother's dagger tucked between my belt. Strange, for I usually sleep naked and I
didn't remember dressing up. As I wondered about this I suddenly saw Wylde enter
the clearing. She immediately hailed me with a mental warning. There was
something creepy here, some manner of creature, probably behind the ruined
chapel.
No sooner had she said this, or we were startled by
the sound of a pair of huge wings. From behind the building something flew into
the air, swooped down again and landed on top of the crumbling spire. I
recognised it from the old myths: it was a harpy. Body and wings of a bird, with
the face of a woman. What the myths had neglected to tell me was that harpies
came in these sizes. This specimen was at least 10' tall, with about twice of
that as her wingspan. She looked down at us with malignant, hungry eyes. Then
she spoke with a screeching parody of a human voice.
"Well, aren't you going to attack? Or run
away? Either way, it doesn't matter; I'm still going to eat you."
Very nice indeed. As I already said before, I'm not
much of a warrior, so I could see no point in attacking, especially with nothing
but a small dagger as my only weapon against this monster. On the other hand, if
I were to try and make a break for it I probably wouldn't get very far. So I
hung back, while Murlas did the talking. I noticed Wylde also kept her distance.
I guess this was way out of her league too.
As I looked around for another course of action,
Murlas kept talking to the harpy. I half-listened to their converation and
learned that she had been set here as a guardian. Apparently someone paid her
for this honour, but she wouldn't (or couldn't) reveal his identity. Besides her
payment she got to eat everyone who tried to get past her, an arrangement which
she found quite agreeable I gathered from the multitude of bones lying around.
An idea came to me then. I looked around, but I
didn't see what I was looking for. There was a reasonable chance though that
between all these bones there would be some useful weapon, carried here by one
of the harpy's earlier victims. Perhaps if I were to use Pattern to shift the
odds somewhat...
Murlas and the harpy were still talking and didn't
seem to notice me. Good. Slowly I started concentrating on the Pattern, till I
could feel Her power flow through me. Just as I got ready to do some shifting I
suddenly felt Murlas also bringing it up and somehow hurling all his psychic
power through it at the harpy.
This was totally new to me. And
to my surprise it even seemed to have quite an effect on the beast. She stopped
talking and clearly looked shaken, but didn't get up and attack us. Carefully I
tried to do the same thing as Murlas was doing. I pictured my mind as a spear
which I threw at the harpy. Contact! My
own power was added to Murlas's against the weakening barrier of the alien harpy
mind. Time seemed to stretch as we doubled our efforts. Then with both a mental
and a physical scream she took to the air and flew off. As the distance between
us increased our contact diminished, until she was gone from our minds.
Happily I looked at Murlas and he even managed a
genuine pleased and a bit thankful smile. Perhaps my first impression of him
hadn't done him justice. He certainly had more experience than I had in such
matters, it seemed, although that trick, using Pattern as a link for a mental
attack, was really quite easy once you knew how to do it.
"We'd better find out what she was guarding
before she returns with help," he said and he headed for the chapel.
The interior also hadn't been spared from time and
the elements. Plants and mosses adorned the walls. Behind a small altar stood a
stone statue of an old man, totally unrecognisable from the climbing-plants that
grew all over it. Upon the altar lay a small rectangular object. Murlas picked
it up. It was a piece of cardboard in the same shape as a Trump, but it was
totally black. We looked around, but this was the only thing we could find. Just
as Murlas said something about trying to get back to the castle, everything went
black before my eyes.
I awoke lying on a cold, stone floor. I opened my
eyes and after a few moments I realised that I was more or less back where I had
started, for I was lying in a corridor with mirrors all around me. I was just
wondering whether it had all been a dream when something stirred beside me. It
was Murlas, still clutching the black piece of cardboard in his hand. So it had
all been real! Intriguing and confusing at the same time. Did this mean that
both our parents were still alive?
I barely stifled a yawn. I felt really beat and
looking at Murlas I could tell he wasn't in much shape. We agreed we'd better
leave these questions be and try answering them in the morning. First we needed
to get some real sleep.
I noticed that this time the corridor wasn't
endless, for there was an ordinary wooden door a few paces away from us at my
left hand side. I opened it and to my surprise found myself in a hallway in the
castle, not far from my own rooms. I had never known that this corridor lay
behind this door. It somehow didn't seem possible, considering the lay-out of
the castle. Yet another thing to think about in the morning.
This time I couldn't stifle my yawn and Murlas couldn't either. We smiled and he bid me goodnight as he made for his quarters. I barely had time to undress, before sleep overtook me again. Hopefully events would be so kind as to leave me in peace for a few hours...