Chapter 003: Calm Before The Storm
No matter where I am, I sometimes get the feeling that there's something
tugging at the fringes of my perception, trying to get my attention but never
really succeeding. It's quite maddening, for it always makes me feel as though
I'm somewhat out of phase with the reality I'm residing in at that moment. This
was the feeling I awoke with after our little nocternal adventure.
The sun was already at its highest point as I tried
to scrub some sense of reality into my dazed skull. Had everything really
happened last night or had it all been a dream? Ah, that was the Big Question. I
couldn't say for sure, certainly not in my current state of mind. A shared dream
just seemed a bit too farfetched to me, but on the other hand, if it all had
been real, then that would imply that either my Mother was still alive or that
someone was impersonating her. And the same for my Uncle Caine. Hmm...
No, it was no use. I just couldn't reach any useful
conclusions juggling the few meagre facts that I possessed. There were too many
how's, why's and who's in either case. Wylde was out again, probably doing some
more exploring and hunting. No telling when she might be back, so I couldn't ask
for her view on the whole thing. And there was only one other person involved.
After a quick brunch and some asking around I
located him in the library. He didn't seem very surprised to see me as he looked
up from the obscure tome that he was reading. He was still a study in red and
black and somehow looked right at home in this labyrinth of knowledge. My cousin
Murlas. His smile was friendly, but despite last night's impressions of him I
couldn't help but wonder how much of his smile was true. Try as I might I
couldn't shake the feeling that while judging him by his looks might not be the
nicest thing to do, it still might prove the wisest. Not very nice, I know, so
sue me. I can't change the way I feel.
"Well, good morning," he said, "or
actually good afternoon would be more precise. I hope you slept well during the
rest of the night. No more disturbing occurances?"
"No, thank you. So it all really
happened?"
He made no effort to hide his amusement.
"Do you still doubt it? I've got some solid
proof for you right here."
With that he reached into his cloak and produced
the black rectangular piece of carbon. Seeing it didn't banish my doubts though.
Okay, so part of it had been real, but I still wasn't ready to face the question
whether or not my Mother was still alive. I looked up at Murlas who was studying
my face attentively.
"So what is it? It seems to be almost
Trumplike in shape and size, but does it have the same powers as well or is it
just an ordinary piece of carbon?"
Again a smile of amusement.
"I don't know, I haven't really studied it
yet. Why don't you have a try?"
Was it my imagination or was that a hint of cruelty
in his smile? I barely repressed a shiver and tried to answer casually.
"Hmm. No, I don't think that would be wise. If
it really is a Trump, we can't say where it will take us, except for the fact
that it's very dark there. I've heard that it's impossible to use Trumps or
Pattern in places of total darkness. With Trumps you have to be able to focus on
the picture to use them and with Pattern you've got to have some point of
reference to start Shadowshifting. But besides concentrating on it I know no way
to study it."
"Then perhaps it would be wiser to ask someone
who might know more of these things. Someone with an interest in magic and
Trumps."
"You mean someone like Aunt Fiona? Yes, that
might be a good idea. I was planning to call on her anyway, since she had
promised that our Trumps would be ready today."
I took out her Trump and concentrated. Contact came
quickly. The sky in the background had a strange greenish cast over it and over
on her left I could see a small part of what seemed to be the Pattern glowing on
the rocky floor. Was this the place of the Primal Pattern? Fascinating captain.
But now was not the time to be distracted.
"Hello Dorian. What can I do for you?"
"Hello Aunt Fiona. Well first of all, how are
you doing on those Trumps I gave you to copy?"
"Oh, they're coming along quite nicely. It
needs just a little more work. I'll drop by this afternoon when they're
finished. Anything else? I'm still very busy, you know."
"Oh, I'm sorry to disturb you, but actually
there is another matter. You see, I have these recurring dream of my Mother, but
last night it took a altogether new turn."
I proceeded to tell her our adventures. Her
reaction to the possibility that our respective parents might still be alive
ranged from scepticism in my case to utter disbelief bordering on disgust in
Murlas's ("Caine is still alive? But we buried him! Twice!").
The corridor with all those mirrors was quite
familiar to her. She told me it was another mysterious feature of the castle,
about which little was known. Trying to find it in Amber is no use; one doesn't
find the Corridor of Mirrors, one is found by it, for it keeps changing its
location, putting itself in the way of the people, for whom it has some
revelations. Although she didn't know which forces were at work in the Corridor
(or how they worked for that matter), Fiona did know that the images in the
mirrors are always quite personal, like the ghosts and visions in Tir-na Nog'th.
That comparison didn't really put me at ease, for I
grew up with a certain amount of fear of that city of moonlight and magic, from
all the stories and rumours that circulate in Amber town. Still, that Corridor
hadn't really done me any harm...yet!
The harpy didn't interest Fiona very much. She more
or less assumed that we got rid of it without difficulties. Made me wonder a bit
about her opinion of me.
The Trumplike black piece of carbon did interest
her though. She found it quite strange and somewhat alarming. She warned me to
be careful with it, for she thought it could be a trap. I tried to reassure her
by saying that I thought it improbable for a trap to be set in such a roundabout
way, but the wistful, knowing smile she gave me in reply told me she didn't
think it so improbable at all. She told me she was willing to study the thing
for us, but then we would have to give it to her.
I glanced sideways at Murlas, who was curiously
watching the rather one-sided conversation, since he wasn't sharing the Trump
contact and could neither hear nor see Fiona. No, I didn't think he would be
willing to let go of our little trophy, for he also seemed to look upon it as a
possible link with his Father. So I told Aunt Fi that we thought it best to
first try it ourselves.
"Well, suit yourself, but please do be careful. Have you tried
looking at it with Pattern?"
"Ah, no. Actually, I don't even know how to do
that."
"Oh, it's very easy. Just concentrate on the
Pattern until you can see it hanging in front of you. Then keep concentrating
and look through the Pattern as if it were a lens. It's really very easy. I
can't see why you never learned to do this."
"Well, I guess I never had any need for such
tricks until now. Anyway, thank you for your help and advise. I will try to be
careful and I hope we'll find out anything useful."
"Yes, when you do please tell me. Or contact
me when you want me to take a closer look at it. Good luck."
With that she broke contact and I was left
contemplating her picture. Something was bothering me about our talk, but I
couldn't put my finger on it. Aunt Fiona seemed very helpful lately, quite in
contrast with the things Aunt Flora had told me about her. I do know Aunt Flora
is an awful gossip and she never had been best friends with Fi, but then again I
had heard some rumours about Fi's role in the Great War which, if they were
true, didn't paint a very flattering picture.
Murlas clearing his throat broke through my
reveries. I put my doubts away with all the others and quickly summarised our
conversation for him. He was interested in Fiona's suggestion of using Pattern
to study our prize, but seemed a bit reluctant to try it himself.
Suddenly we were interrupted by Adrian, who
had found us in our little corner in the library. He seemed eager to see me, but
apparently he wanted a private talk, for he tried to direct Murlas away with a
gesture that by no means could have been called tactful. Murlas wouldn't stand
for such behaviour and he made it clear by his bearing that he had no intention
of leaving. I found myself both amused and a little irritated by Adrian's
behaviour and told him I would seek him out here in the library once Murlas and
I had finished our conversation. Clearly disappointed he went off again.
We resumed our conversation, but after a couple of
minutes I grew impatient with him. I don't know how Murlas came to be so
cautious, but there is such a thing as too much. So I just tried to do what
Fiona had told me. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, I guess.
It all went precisely as she had said it would and
carefully I tried looking through the Pattern lens. Well, looking at it in this
way made it very plain that it was definitely not just another black piece of
carbon. The thing was virtually bursting with power! Strange little blue lines
pulsated on its surface. After a moment or two studying it I felt that it indeed
was a Trump, but there seemed to be something odd about it. I couldn't say what
it was until I looked at Fiona's Trump, which I still held in my hand. The Black
Trump contained no Pattern energy like the usual Amber Trumps; something else
seemed to be the source of its quite substantial power. Weird!
Murlas, after seeing that no harm had befallen me,
had tried the same thing and he had also noticed this peculiarity. I proposed
that we should go to Algo to show him this strange Trump. He might be able to
tell us something about it. After all, he was the Trump expert of our little
group. It required some persuasion, but finally Murlas agreed.
We found Algo busy working on Adrian's Trump in the
middle of his group's quarters. Already having heard Adrian's account I wasn't
surprised to find Algo the one point of concentated quietness in the busy chaos
of the room. It reminded me an awful lot of some of the spots in Telgan and a
couple of faces from Algo's group even looked somewhat familiar, strengthening
this feeling of nostalgia. Maybe I'd take a holiday there after all this had
been sorted out. And after I had a chance to see Suze again...
While I was looking around Murlas had gone ahead. I
thought attracting Algo's attention would be difficult, but Murlas managed it
quite easily by simply looking over Algo's shoulder while he was working.
Annoyed he looked up, straight at the Black Trump in Murlas's hand. Immediately
he became quite fascinated. Yes, it was a real Trump and could be used as a
normal one, save that there was no telling where it would lead to. Also, it was
quite familiar to him, for he immediately recognised his teacher's work: this
Trump had been created by Galoran. I was surprised, but Murlas wasn't. He told
Algo where we had found this Trump and that there had been a statue of Galoran
in that ruined chapel. Algo became even more fascinated. He told us that the
Trump was fully powered by something he called the Universal Trump Power and
that it contained far more power than the usual Trumps.
At this point I interjected. This just didn't
correspond to the things Fiona had told me when she first gave me my Trumps.
According to her, Trumps had to have one of the main powers as their
power-basis. Our Amber Trumps were of course powered by the Pattern, while the
Lords of the Courts of Chaos used their own equivalent, the Logrus as I had
recently learned. Algo disagreed: to him my Amber Trumps were somehow flawed, as
if they had not been created to their full potential. His own Trumps were, for
want of any better term, "more Trump".
Again Murlas surprised me by telling us that the
Trump power was somehow similar to the way Caine had transported him from his
bedroom to the Shadow where we had found the Black Trump. He described it as a
bluish glowing round corridor, which curved like a piece of macaroni (I kid you
not, those were his words).
I felt a bit insulted since he had not seen fit to
give me this information earlier. He could also easily have told me about
Galoran, yet he had not, while I had been quite open to him about my findings.
Didn't he trust me or was this just the way he was with everyone? I felt a
slight chill as I recalled some of the warnings my Father had given me about my
Mothers family. Until now I had had no real cause to believe them, but now I
wasn't so sure anymore.
I remained silent while Algo proposed that he
should study the Black Trump. Murlas however just didn't want to part with it.
Algo tried to warn him about the possible dangers of carrying the Trump on his
person for prolonged periods of time, but Murlas said he would take his chances.
After all, Caine had sent him to get this Trump ,so if Caine wanted it he would
have to get it from Murlas first. And there were still some things Murlas wanted
to ask him.
Having concluded that there was nothing else we
could do at the moment we parted company. I had almost forgotten about Adrian,
but fortunately I passed by the library on my way to my rooms and remembered in
time. Adrian's trust and confidence in me were quite refreshing, hurt as I was
by Murlas' lack of both.
Adrian and his brother had also had an adventure
last night. They had both been contacted and Trumped out to Arden by Benedict.
Almost all attacking soldiers had been routed, but a small guerrilla force
persisted, killing many of our troops and vanishing before they could be caught.
Benedict had wanted the brothers to investigate and, if possible, deal with the
menace. They had set out and had first encountered a strange creature resembling
a giant white gorilla with orange quills. They had managed to defeat it, but I
gathered that their co-operation had been far from perfect (what else could one
expect from those two?).
This had shown even more in their second encounter
which involved a mysterious fair-haired man, who had proceeded to best both
brothers individually, both with and without weapons. Only when they had gotten
some distance between them and their opponent and had finally thought of using
their bows, the stranger had thought it better to leave. Benedict had later
identified him as Dalt, but he had told them to ask Rinaldo for more information
on this illustrious person. So Adrian had sought him out earlier this morning
and had learned that Dalt was a son of Oberon who for some reason hated
everything about Amber and the Family. He was a mercenary by profession and more
than once he had led his troops against Amber. Up to now without any real
successes though.
Fascinated by Adrian's story and warmed by his
trust I once again gave an account of our adventures. He was very interested but
had no new ideas or insights. We agreed to keep each other up to date if there
were to be any further developments.
After this little chat with Adrian I just wandered
around aimlessly for a while. There was not much for me to do here right now. My
thoughts strayed and once again settled on Suzanne. Bright, smiling Suze... Ah,
to be at her side again! Suddenly I remembered my letter. In all the hustle and
bustle I had quite forgotten to deliver it to Aunt Flora. I immediately made
sure she got it (sealed of course) and she promised me she would see to it that
it arrived as soon as possible.
Thinking about Suze had given me an idea though.
Since I had nothing better to do I might just as well try to compose some new
songs for her. This might also help explain things somewhat when I saw her
again, for music had always been the great leveller between us. I went back to
my room and made some attempts to capture the melodies in my head and put them
on paper. Aunt Fiona dropped off the promised Trumps, but I was so busy that I
forgot to tell her about the things we had discovered about the mysterious Black
Trump. It was just the last thing on my mind, I guess.
That evening I felt was the right moment for
looking up my Father, so I sent word ahead that I would join him for dinner.
Wylde of course accompanied me on my way from the castle to my Father's house in
the city. When we got there I was surprised by how unchanged it all seemed. It
was as if no time had passed here at all since my previous visit. It was strange
but quite pleasant after all the events of the last few days.
My Father was pleased as ever to see me. He was
very interested in everything that had befallen me on my travels in Shadow, so I
spent a lot of time talking. I refrained from telling him about our current
problems though. I didn't know for sure, but although I knew I could trust my
Father completely, King Random might not be too pleased if I told him these
things. For all I knew they might be considered to be state secrets. Also, on a
more personal note, I didn't think it would be wise to trouble Dad with those
vague indications that my Mother might still be alive. Hell, I felt way too
uneasy myself when considering that possibility and I hadn't even known her that
well! No, it was better to be more certain about such things before discussing
them with Dad. So I skirted around these subjects when our conversation came too
close, wanting to tell him no lies. There were plenty of other things to tell
though and all in all we had a very pleasant evening together.
Before returning to the castle I went to pick up my old guitar from my
room and was struck once again by the painting hanging over my fireplace. I had
painted it myself some years ago. It showed my Mother as I had heard her often
described in the ballads and epics. She was dressed in a beautiful black dress
with a splendidly crafted silver belt as her only piece of jewelry. The
moonlight shining through a nearby window brightly illuminated her face and long
black hair. Her smile was warm and loving (as ever), but once again I noticed
the mysterious look in her eyes. I hadn't really planned it that way, but I
guess it somehow suited her.
What if she was still alive? Where was she and why
hadn't she tried to reach Dad or me? Perhaps she was still in some kind of
danger. I felt desperate. This lack of concrete information was quite maddening.
Let it rest, Dorian. There is nothing to be done...at least, not at this moment.
The night and next morning were uneventful. After breakfast I went round
with the copied Trumps of Vincent, Algo and myself that Fiona had given me. I
noticed that Algo's own Trump differed from the copies made. His had a harp on
the back, instead of the Unicorn which normally decorates our Trumps. Studying
it more carefully with Pattern I could see it was similar to the Black Trump in
that it also didn't contain any traces of Pattern. It reminded me of the fact
that I should have told Fiona about all that. I promised myself that I would
call her later.
I had no trouble finding all the others. Murlas and
Algo were the final two, together since Algo was busy drawing Murlas' Trump.
Algo wasn't too pleased to find that his Trump had been copied so extensively.
He said he had ordered only three copies to be made of it, which he himself had
wanted to pass out to the right persons. Neither I nor Murlas could recall any
such orders and there was nothing we could change about it now. Anyway, I
couldn't really see what all the fuss was about. We needed his Trump if we were
to be able to stay in touch. That was all there was to it.
The rest of that and the following day were also
uneventful and I spent them composing and playing my new songs. In a way it took
my mind of the problems to which I could find no solutions as yet. After all,
what's the use of worrying?
The next morning (the fifth day after our Family
Banquet) I was shaken from my blissful, creative state of mind by the news that
one of the women from Algo's group had been murdered last night. Suspicion had
fallen upon the last person she had been seen with, a sailor with dark hair,
moustache and a nasty looking scar on his cheek, but he was nowhere to be found.
Of course I went to offer my condolences, but I was
told by one of the other artists that Algo didn't want to see or speak to
anybody until after the funeral. Arrangements were already being made to
transport the body back to Telgan, but he estimated that it would take at least
a week before everything was finished.
I encountered the other troubleshooters in the
library. They had heard the bad news too and especially Adrian and Alexander
argued that we should not waste any more time but finally set off and find some
answers. And I guess we all agreed that waiting another week would be too much.
The only problem was that we still needed our Trumps, so we decided to send Algo
a letter of condolence requesting him to send us the (hopefully) finished Trumps
of Adrian and Murlas and the Trump deck Random had given us. Then we might still
see whether Fiona would be willing to do any more copying for us.
To our surprise however, Algo only sent us the
standard deck, while we were pretty certain that he had finished the other two
Trumps by now. Murlas got pretty indignant and saying something about that it
was his Trump so he should have a say in it, he went off to see Algo personally.
I later heard that he hadn't let anything stop him until he came face to face
with Algo, who didn't say a word but picked Murlas up like he was a pile of
dirty laundry and carried him out of the room again. Murlas made no further
attempts to get his Trump after that.
Back in the library we tried discussing our options again. Vincent made
some enquiries about the possibility of there already being Trumps of Murlas and
Adrian and, wouldn't you know it, he was right. A quick Trump call to Julian and
Benedict respectively got us those two Trumps. So all that time we had waited
had been for nothing! I didn't know whether to laugh or be angry.
We still needed some copies of these, though. I
tried to reach Fiona but it wasn't until late in the afternoon that I finally
contacted her. I told her about our problems and asked her whether she would
copy these Trumps for us too. She said that copying the whole deck would cost
her too much time and energy; just a few copies was more reasonable. I relayed
this back to the others and we agreed upon the Trumps of Murlas, Adrian and
Amber itself to be copied.
Fiona told me it would take yet another two days
for her to produce some workable copies, two days which again proved to be
uneventful, so I just went on with my music. I have to admit though that at that
point my heart wasn't entirely in it anymore. Some of Adrian's and Alexander's
craving for action had apparently rubbed off on me and during the second day I
became quite restless.
When Fiona finally brought me the newly copied
Trumps I remembered to tell her about our discoveries concerning the Black
Trump. She had indeed noticed the unusual power in Algo's Trump. She told me she
used the Pattern to make new Trump copies, but since Algo's didn't contain
Pattern she had first had to copy the image in a more difficult manner onto a
blank Trump card which did contain Pattern. She was unfamiliar with the
Universal Trump Power which Algo had spoken of, and I could tell she was very
interested. There was nothing else I could tell her about it, but I mentioned
that the Black Trump was still in Murlas' custody. She said she thought she
ought to spare a few moments to study it more carefully.
The following morning our little group again met in
the library. We had sent word to Algo outlining our intentions, that is that we
would start investigating without him. He could always join us by Trump after
the funeral. Meanwhile we had to decide where we would start looking for
answers. Alexander contacted Benedict and asked him whether he had found out
where the enemy troops had come from. That was still unknown to him, but they
had been led to Arden by a General Dalt and had been unable to retreat to their
own Shadow without his guidance.
After this conversation Alexander started wondering
who might know something more about the Black Unicorn, when suddenly Dworkin was
standing beside us.
"Haven't you left yet? You're wasting precious
time, you know. What? Black Trump? Oh, that's not the issue right now. Look, you
just have to start traveling through Shadow and the answers you are looking for
will come your way. Good luck!"
With that he vanished again. We exchanged a few
glances and then each of us went off to prepare for our journey. I stopped by at
the armoury for a sword and crossbow and bolts. There I also ran into Uncle
Jaro, whom I gave a message for my father, saying that I had departed again and
that I didn't know when I would be back. I feared this might not be for quite
some time...