Chapter 047: No Rational Solution
"In
my den of inequity
Viciousness
and subtlety
Struggle
to ease the pain
Struggle
to find the sane
Ignorance
surrounding me
I've
never been so filled with fear
All
my life's been drained from me
The
end is drawing near"
A
Change of Seasons - Dream Theater
I felt no real inclination to accompany Boadice on her way out. After
all, I was Ornach's guest and not his servant, and therefore I should not be
that easily dismissed. We spent some more time talking, and of course the matter
of the royal succession cropped up at a certain point. I asked him what his
opinion was on the current course that events were taking.
"The succession?" he said nonchalantly. "Oh, I haven't
really looked into that yet. But don't worry, I will." That casual
half-smile seemed to imply that he would indeed have something to say on the
matter, but all in due time. "However," he continued, "at the
moment there are more important things." He gave me a sly look and asked:
"Do you think that I ought to become involved now?" Before I could say
anything he plunged on: "I seem to remember that the whole process is a
rather simple one: a majority of the possible candidates are eliminated, often
round and about fifty people or so, and the final remaining one is either strong
enough himself or has someone like that backing him up to keep the throne in his
possession. And so we will have ourselves another figurehead. Maybe you're
right, though. Maybe this time I'd better interrupt the process. It'll only cost
us a lot of manpower we might put to better use elsewhere. It's annoying that
I'm so busy myself," he mused. "I simply have to find my children
first, though, and I don't think I can leave everything to Boadice. No, that
wouldn't be wise at all. I know she means well, but all the same..." I
firmly kept my mouth shut at this point, for while I might not owe Boa anything,
I didn't have to go around and make life more difficult for her either. This was
strictly between her and her boss.
Before we could go on the door to the library opened and a young man with
blonde hair peeked in at us. When he saw Ornach he gave a little nod and
casually stepped inside. With an air of arrogance and a self-complacent smile
the young stranger moved towards us and sat down on top of the table that served
as Ornach's desk. Ornach raised one eyebrow slightly, picked up a pencil and
scratched something off a list. The regarded each other in silence for minute or
two, until the young stranger spoke up.
"Well," he said with a grin, "you could try saying
something nice to me, you know."
"What would you like me to say?" Ornach
asked coolly.
"Oh, I don't know," the young man said
casually. "Perhaps that you're happy to see me again."
"Alright, I'm happy to see you again,"
Ornach said with an expression that was as far from true happiness as could be.
"It saves me a lot of trouble searching for you," he added. The young
man feigned a pained look and shook his head.
"This is my youngest son, Samal," Ornach
said to me when he finally noticed my expression of barely hidden curiosity.
"Pleased to meet you." Samal nodded to me politely, still
smiling, and our eyes met for an instant. His were blue, a cold blue that seemed
to stir up some memories, though I could not quite recall what or who they
reminded me of. His gaze was powerful and for all my abilities I feared that I
would be no match for him if it ever came that far. Yet there seemed to be
something inviting there as well, something of a promise perhaps. Fascinating,
but clearly very dangerous. Almost automatically Nisse's words came back to me:
he had called Samal a degenerate pervert, someone with no scruples whatsoever.
It made me wonder. He had been right about the strong charisma, though...
"This is Lord Dorian of Amber," Ornach said to his son.
"Of Amber? Well, well." Samal eyed me
again, slightly intrigued. "Wasn't that supposed to be our little house in
the country, dad?" Ornach tried to ignore
the question, putting on a stern and cool expression. There wasn't much love
lost between the two of them, that much was sure. "Yes," Samal
resumed, "I've noticed that there are a few of them rummaging around
here." He wasn't trying to bait just his father now, but I managed to keep
a straight face. Sticks and stones and all that.
"Who let you out of your prison?" Ornach wanted to know.
"Lord Murlas of Amber," Samal replied,
casually looking in my direction and making it very hard for me to maintain that
mask of a straight face. Murlas? How in the Unicorn's name had he become
involved in this? I seemed to remember Nisse telling me that Samal's Trump had
been in Suhuy's care, so how had Murlas got his hands on it? Perhaps it would be
interesting to try to spring it on him the next time we had a little chat,
preferably when he was least expecting it. But then he would probably slither
out of that quite easily, as usual. No, the information might be more useful in
other ways, for instance when relayed to others who might be in doubt about our
dear cousin loyalties. We'll see.
"All in all it was quite convenient,"
Samal added.
"What news of the others?" Ornach asked.
"Well, I've only seen Taureth, but I guess you
already know about him." Ornach nodded and let his gaze wander around the
room, casually passing me in the process. From the uncomfortable silence that
followed I suddenly got the urge to take my leave discreetly and let father and
son have a more rewarding reunion in private. Before I left Ornach mumbled
something about being sure that he would see me around and Samal added something
in a similar vein. I didn't know whether I should feel happy about the latter's
remark, though. Interesting man, yes, but one I would prefer to keep at a safe
distance. Just as I was closing the door behind me I finally remembered where I
had seen those piercing blue eyes before: in that
dungeon cell in Amber the night of the attack, and then the night after
that up in the city of silver where I had met his ghost. I still got the shivers
now and then thinking about what he could have been had I not stopped him when
they had tried to get him out. On my way back to my chambers I could do nothing
else but puzzle over this possible connection between Samal and Azrain...
I had only got halfway, though, when someone decided it was time to try
and contact me. It was Adrian and he looked mighty serious.
"Do you have a moment?" he asked.
"Sure," I sighed. "What's up?"
"I currently have Sereva in the other
room," he said, "bound and all. I have been talking to her dad, and he
told me that she is clearly out of her mind and that she has to be subdued for
her own good. I have brought her back here, because of rumours of a possible
Oban attack. Now that I had a chance to
settle down and consider things a bit more carefully, however, I got the feeling
that everything just went a little bit too smoothly. Something is rotten around
here and I can't help feeling that the joke is entirely on me. So, I've decided
to find some other safe spot to store Sereva in, and I wanted to know whether
you might have any suggestions."
"Why, it seems that you have been busy again," I said.
"I'm sorry, but I can't think of anything useful right now." Well, of
course there was one special place I had at my disposal, but there was no way I
was going to put Sereva anywhere near my little ones. "A possible Oban
attack is quite risky, though," I added. "Perhaps it would be better
to involve Bleys or Fiona in this."
"If I do," Adrian sighed, "I'll immediately lose her.
They'll take Sereva off my hands right away and probably never let me near her
again. No, that is simply not an option. It might not be the nicest thing to
keep her locked up like this, I know, but I must admit that I've really had it
with regard to certain arrangements, you know." He sighed once more, then
turned all serious again. "Can you tell me how you were able to make that
Shadow for your children?" Oh dear, the question I had dreaded he would
ask. Why did he have to make it so hard for me to remain honest with him? I was
also suddenly very much aware of the fact that were still communicating by Trump
and that the Pattern would probably be listening in on our conversation. Great!
Not much room for half-truths or falsehoods either.
"Such a thing requires a lot of work," I replied truthfully,
"and the current state of affairs haven't made things any easier, I
bet."
"Oh," Adrian said. His face sagged.
"Then I'll have to find another option." He tried to stay calm and
resigned, but I felt a clear sensation of panic seeping through. The poor guy
was under so much pressure and had fewer and fewer options open to him all the
time.
"Okay," I said, "listen, I'll try to
do this for you, but I can't guarantee that it'll work."
"Thank you," he said softly, and we broke
contact.
Oh, what a sucker I was! Talked into it again! I had to find a way out of
this mess, though, and a.s.a.p., for there was no way I was going to do that
heavy Pattern stuff right now. If I did, I might as well hand over my brain on a
silver platter right away and get it all over and done with. So, I couldn't do
it, yet I had promised Adrian that I would try. Hmm, wasn't there anything that
I had overlooked, anything that might stop me from trying altogether? I pondered
the question on the last stretch back to the Amber wing, and finally I did come
up with a possible answer. Instead of going to my own room I knocked at the door
to Adrian's suite, hoping that he had not already moved to a safer location.
Fortunately for me he hadn't, but he wasn't alone: Murlas was there as well.
Hmm, I guessed I would have to be even a little bit more subtle.
"I just wanted to check something before I go along with what we
discussed," I said as soon as Adrian had closed the door. "You want to
keep Bleys and Fiona from finding out about Sereva's presence here, don't
you?" He nodded. "Okay," I continued, "then we have a
problem. The moment I start messing about with Pattern on that level, Fiona will
know about it and she will probably want to know what I am up to."
"She will notice you're working on it?" Adrian asked. I nodded.
For once I was glad that dear Aunt Fi was so damned sensitive. "But do you
think they will take Sereva away immediately?" he asked forlornly.
"How should I know?" I said, perhaps a
bit louder than I should have. Murlas made it clear, however, that he was
convinced that they would.
"Fiona wants Sereva in her grasp," he
said firmly. "Do not ever doubt that." I was surprised by the
vehemence of his statement. Usually Murlas never shows such strong feelings, at
least not in public. He seemed to be very mistrustful of Fiona, and his wish
that Sereva would not end up with her seemed to be quite sincere, although I
wasn't too sure about his reasons for this. It might be just a simple case of
begrudging Fi such an easy gain, yet with Murlas who could know for sure? While
I was trying to read his true intentions, he himself was doing much the same
with mine. Not for the first time I wondered what he was truly thinking.
"Would it not be best if we were to find a
different secure place to harbour Sereva?" Murlas asked.
"Alright, but where, for the Unicorn's sake?" Adrian demanded.
"That's the same question I asked a few minutes ago and you didn't know a
likely spot then either."
"Dorian's suite or my suite," Murlas
said, "choose whichever you like, it does not really matter."
"But if those Oban are nearly as good as they
are rumoured to be," Adrian objected, "they can surely find out where
Sereva is, especially if she's in the same wing, can't they? I assume that
bribing servants is their everyday business, so..."
"How many servants are there around here?" Murlas wanted to
know, then plunging right on: "We have to make sure that Boadice does not
know anything about this." Adrian heaved a sigh.
"Listen," he said, "I didn't tell
anyone about all of this, but at this point I think that even that doesn't
matter anymore. People will find out, whatever we do. There are too many
conspiracies around here, too many people waiting for a chance to trick me once
more, and I absolutely refuse to play the fool any longer." I shook my head
in commiseration. There was little Adrian or any of us could do to avoid the
roles assigned to us by others. Perhaps we all ought to resign ourselves to our
fate and start playing our part to the best of our abilities.
"Well, if you want to avoid being fooled again, you had better get
Sereva away from your own chambers," Murlas said.
"But if we keep her here in the Amber
wing," Adrian said, "Amber will still be involved."
"So what?" Murlas said. "Amber is
strong enough. The Amber Pattern is still there, is it not? Its position is much
better than that of the Logrus, I would say."
"Granted," Adrian said. "I'm not at
all concerned with power positions and such, though, but more with political
positions. People may start holding me accountable for a mess like this and I
don't want that."
"Oh, but that is easy," Murlas said,
"you just have to disengage yourself from the whole affair, so that nobody
has anything on you."
"We're back at the same question then,"
Adrian sighed again. "Where am I going to stash her away if not here?"
"Ah, ideally speaking...," Murlas mused.
"However, we should be certain." He suddenly turned to me and asked:
"How secure are your chambers, Dorian?"
"Well, I'd hate to disappoint you," I began, directing my
answer more to Adrian than to Murlas, "but I'm already harbouring another
young lady and I wasn't planning on endangering her." I saw Adrian downcast
expression and added: "Besides, if you're worried about security problems
and such, I must confess that I'm entirely dependent on the palace staff for
servants."
"Hmm," Murlas mused, "I am more or
less in a similar situation. However, I also have a few Hendrakes for servants,
the right kind of course, Belissa's men." Alexander's men, more like! I
wondered how he had been able to arrange this at such short a notice. It would
appear that Murlas was not only quite close to Adrian, but also to his brother
and infamous near-murderer. I hoped that Adrian was keeping his wits about him
enough to let this casually mentioned fact not slip by.
"Of course we do not want to alert these Hendrakes as to the
whereabouts of your betrothed," Murlas continued, "but should we
manage to keep them out of my apartment, where they do not have any business
anyway, it would be the perfect spot to hide her away. I guarantee you that they
will not look for her there." Adrian nodded, though a bit reluctantly.
"We would have to transport her there unnoticed of course," Murlas
added, "and if you can think of another place that might do, be my guest.
I'm not particularly keen on having her there myself." Boy, did that have a
`I'm doing you a favour' ring to it, or what? Adrian didn't have any other
choices left, though.
"Okay then," he said. "As for getting Sereva to your room
without anyone noticing it, we'd better do that by Trump I guess. Although they
are not entirely free from eavesdroppers either."
"No," Murlas concurred, "but the
only ones who are likely to listen in on us are other Amberites. This risk is
unavoidable in any case. However, we will have to start searching for another
place immediately, for I can only keep her in my chambers for a limited duration
of time."
"We go ahead as planned," Adrian said
firmly, "and I'll go and investigate other possibilities. I think I know
something that may be of help, but that's all rather vague and unsure..."
Murlas shrugged. Apparently he wasn't too interested in any vague long-term
plans right now.
"Let us take care of it right away," he
said. "I shall go to my room and Trump you as soon as I am there."
Adrian nodded his assent and after one final enigmatic glance at me
Murlas left. Feeling I couldn't be of use here anyway, I followed Murlas
outside. As before I had kept mostly out of their conversation, and as I watched
the dark figure of my cousin move away in the corridor I wondered about the
influence he seemed to have on Adrian. It made me doubt whether placing Sereva
in his care was the wisest thing to do, but I realised that protesting would
only get me in trouble. As always I had far too many problems of my own and I
didn't need a pregnant Chaos lady on my hands to top it all off. Getting Sereva
to Murlas's room by Trump was in itself not a very bright idea, but then they
didn't know that the Pattern would be able to watch their every move. It would
probably send Fiona right in after them or something like that.
Suddenly I just felt a sick, tired and angry of the whole business. What
was the use of going on, if every turn you took would land you into even more
trouble than you were in before? This thing was just impossible: too many
people, too many plots and conspiracies, too many knives ready to cut us down.
And nobody to trust... That's what it all boiled down to, now that even the
Pattern had turned against me. There seemed to be nothing I could do but sit and
wait for the worst to happen.
Well, at least I didn't have to wait long. I had only been back in my
room for a few minutes when there was a knock at my door. A bit irritated at the
thought of yet another set of problems that was sure to come my way I called for
whoever it was to come in. The door remained closed, however, and a second, more
insistent knock followed. Grumbling I moved to open it myself, only to find a
old, dishevelled-looking man standing on my doorstep. His hair and beard were
long and unkempt, and his clothes were stained and slightly torn. Who the hell
was this? Instinctively I moved a bit backwards, but it wasn't quick enough: the
old man flung himself forward, clasping his hands around my throat. Surprised by
this sudden attack I stumbled and fell backward with him on top of me.
Immediately I tried to fight him off me, but to no avail, he clung to me like a
leech and simply couldn't be budged. Shocked I stared upwards into his
bewildered face, trying to find some reason why he was doing this to me. I guess
that was exactly what he had been waiting for, though. As I gazed into his wild
and slightly unfocused eyes, I felt him making contact with my mind.
Oh no! Desperately I tried to raise my defenses as Fiona had taught me,
but it was no use. The old man's mind was like a storm, a hurricane blowing my
hastily erected structures away like dust, flotsam in a tidal wave rushing
onwards, sweeping me off my feet bubbling wild stream of madness guzzling me up
intent on drowning me clinging to the wreckage holding it together with my mind
making it into a raft castaway in a sea of madness but the water is no water it
is lava steaming burning hot the raft goes up in a puff of smoke and I go down
down down burning drowning f
a
l
l
i
n
g
Then suddenly, nothing. Silence. Blackness. And I am floating in space,
no sound, sight, smell, taste or touch. Peaceful...
A chuckle! I try to sense around me, but there's
nothing there. Or is there? A dot of light appears somewhere before me, off in
the distance, drawing closer, growing larger. I realise that I can see myself
and somehow I'm whole again. There is nothing else around, though, except for
the dot which slowly turns into the the old man. He chuckles again and somehow
he is different than before, calmer perhaps and more collected.
"Hello, boy," he says with a grin,
"I hope I didn't hurt you too much."
"Er," I say, "no, I guess that I'm
alright. Who are you? What do you want from me?"
"I know who you are," he says, "your name is Dorian, isn't
it? Yes, I know some of your cousins. They're very fond of ice-cream, aren't
they?" He frowns and shakes his head. "No, disregard that last
bit," he says. "You are Dorian, though?"
"Yes, I am," I say, "but who are
you?"
"Me? My name is Suhuy." Oh, Unicorn!
Dworkin's brother. Last thing I'd heard was that he had gone completely mad
after the Logrus had been damaged. What is he doing in my mind?
"Listen very carefully," Suhuy says, "for time is short. I
know about your problems with the Big Bright One. I can relate to that, what
with the Slithering Shifty One. Too close for comfort, eh? We need room, more
string for the puppets to dance their own dance without the masters interfering
all the time. And you want to help, don't you, help bring back the old days, the
good times, when things were all in balance and we were as free as we could hope
to be?" I nod, a bit bemused by his cryptic language. I think I understand,
though.
"Good boy," he says. "And uncle Suhuy's here to teach you
how you can be of help. It's very easy really, you just have to do as I do: act
as if the wires are all crossed. The puppeteer will rather pick up another doll
than untangle all the lines. The Big Bright One is pressed for time too, even
though It has the upper hand right now. Just make yourself useless to It and
you'll become useful to us. Do you understand?"
"You mean I should go mad, just like you
have?" I ask. "Or at least pretend that I have?" He smiles an
nods.
"I myself can't do very much," he says ruefully. "There's only a small part of me that's not raging around, that can still take care of such important things as ice-cream and balloons." Once more he frowns and shakes his head, as if to clear it. "Time is getting short," he says. "I'm afraid that this is all that I can do for you. At least you'll have another possible course of action to choose from. You know what you have to do?"
"Yes," I say, "and thank you."
"You're welcome," Suhuy says with a
smile. "I'm just helping myself as well, you know. Now, it is time to go
back. When you wake up I'll be gone and you'll be on your own. Good luck."
He starts drifting away from me, growing smaller and smaller until he's
finally disappeared altogether. I remain drifting in the peaceful nothingness,
reluctant to return to my own body. Somebody will come along and bring me to
soon enough I guess. So, I am to play the fool, to convince everyone, even the
Pattern Itself, that I have gone crazy. Well, at least it's worth the try. It's
better than just waiting for things to happen, and what do I have to lose but my
free will and sanity, which are already on the line anyway? No, I think I will
like playing this role. Hamlet in Chaos, it has a nice ring to it.
Just then I realise that in Hamlet everyone ended
up dead. Hope I can manage to do better...