Chapter 066: Truth And Loathing In Quendor
"So
we keep on skirting round the edge of darkness
With fresh identities and best-laid plans;
And we keep on working to outreach the shadow,
But the shadow will outrun the man.
With such headfuls of self-accusation
That no pseudonyms can hide our shame,
Lost in a jungle of our own creation,
Lost in a labyrinth of cover names..."
Under
Cover Names - Peter Hammill
That look when I entered, was it only surprise or something more?
Recognition perhaps? I frowned everso slightly, but she didn't react to it.
Didn't hide her surprise either, but on the other hand neither did she let it
detract from her welcome. Her handshake was firmer than I had expected, but then
my expectations hardly did her any justice. Her clothing had that strict
business look to it usually reserved for accountants and bookkeepers; it fitted
the quite modern style of office, but this no-nonsense demeanour was again
belied by her unfashionably long black hair. Also, her tan was just a little
darker than was regular for the common Quendorian, making her stand out even
more. She seemed to be in her mid-thirties, with enough youth left to give her
eyes that little bit of sparkle.
"Mr.
Grey," she said with a smile, "right on time. I'm Janice Fabre,
pleased to meet you. I believe that you required some consultation?"
I nodded and let her guide me to her office's sitting area. Miss Fabre
had been the only practioner of the magical arts in Quendor that I had been able
to dig up in their equivalent of the yellow pages whose first name had been
Janice. I had phoned her office and had made an appointment for this particular
morning, hoping that I would be able to find out whether she was indeed the
Janice whose name had been on Brand's list. Not that there were all that many
magicians left in Quendor, or rather not many appeared to be making a living by
their craft. The various magical categories that I had perused while searching
for that one Janice had all more or less yielded the same handful of names,
leading me to conclude that magic might be slowly on the wane around here. Or
perhaps it was just that technology was gradually making magic seem redundant.
That there was
at least some disagreement among the remaining magicians about how magic should
be practised was plain from the architecture along and in the vicinity of
Lablanche Boulevard, where Miss Fabre's office was located: ultra-modern
multi-storey buildings stood right next to dwellings that in mood and appearance
seemed to rank among the oldest of the city. This kind of eclectisism wasn't all
that strange around Quendor, I discovered, but nowhere was it as immediate as in
the magician's quarter. Miss Fabre's office was, as mentioned before, in one of
the modern buildings, and visiting her seemed to be much like going to see a
lawyer or accountancy firm back on Shadow Earth. Perhaps it was because of these
surroundings that I came up with my cover story.
"I
represent a large firm that is something of a family business," I began
after we had sat down. "Lately we have had a few intimations of some coming
threat that may well lead to some quite turbulent times in the near
future."
"Ah," Miss Fabre interrupted me, "I thought I noticed that
you are in the same trade. Your whole family is part of it as well, I take
it?" I frowned and gave her a look of non-comprehension. In return she
raised an eyebrow and then smiled a bit sheepishly. "My apologies,"
she said. "It was just that I felt the power in you."
"Oh?" was my only comment. Her senses must be quite keen for a
Shadow dweller. In other Shadows I have come across a few individuals who
noticed something odd about me, but never in such an immediate fashion. It would
be wise to remember this, for it might be that all Quendorians were a bit more
perceptive than people elsewhere, although I must confess that I had not noticed
so before.
"You are not a magician then?" she asked to be
sure.
"That is not a term I generally use to describe myself," I
said, although I guessed that some people might think it a suitable epithet for
one such as I. Still, Miss Fabre readily accepted my statement and begged me
please to continue.
"As I said, turbulent times could be just around the corner. Alas,
we lack the necessary concrete information that would allow us to deal with the
problem, so I felt that it was perhaps better to try some more intuitive
approach."
"You want
me to do a divination?" she concluded brightly. I nodded. "What was it
you had in mind," she asked, "a long term engagement or a one time
only clarification?"
"Let's start with a one time only, and see how that goes
first."
"Do you favour any kind of technique?"
"Not really. What is your own speciality?"
"To be honest, it's been a while since I last handled such a job.
Still, you never really forget the basics." She studied me for a moment and
said: "I take you to be a card person." I smiled. She was good.
While I was
handling the cards I noticed something interesting about them. On the opposite
side, where the Amber Trumps sport the sign of the Unicorn and most Chaosian
ones have the image of the Serpent, these cards each had a stylized triangular
form that reminded me very much of the Hermit's castle on the Overshadow. It
could be the first sign that I had located the right person, but it could also
simply be a coincidence. When Miss Fabre started laying out the cards in a
standard kind of spread, I got the feeling that it had to be a bit more than
that, though, for the minor arcana cards were in every aspect completely the
same as those in my own Trump deck. Her deck only differed in that it of course
contained no real Trumps but instead had this Shadow's equivalent of the major
arcana, the Fool, the Priestess, and so on. None of these major cards cropped up
in this particular spread, although I wasn't certain whether that was a good
thing or not.
"Well, it
seems that your intimations were right," she said after having studied the
cards for a minute or so. "I sense that your family is at the centre of
quite unruly events, and there indeed appears to be a threat, but you already
knew as much. The cards seem to suggest a two-fold solution." She pointed
at the two that made up the final positions. "This one indicates a great
conflict, while the other is a card of wisdom." She hesitated, before
looking at me a bit apologetically. "It's not entirely clear to me whether
both paths are necessary, or whether there is a choice between the two options,
but like I said, it's been a while."
"Intriguing," I commented non-committally. It was, but the
cards were too vague to give any immediate answers, as always. Conflict, wisdom,
or both. Hmm, divinations like these tend to make much more sense in hindsight,
but then most things do.
"You have to understand that divinations always remain quite
intangible," Miss Fabre said wistfully, gathering the cards together and
putting them back in their case, which as I now noticed also sported the same
triangular design.
"That is a remarkably fine set of cards you have there," I
said.
"Thank you. They were a gift from a former professor of mine."
"Really? That symbol seems rather familiar to me."
"Oh, he used to teach for years at the university here. Perhaps you
came across it in one of his many publications."
"I don't
think so," I said, shaking my head very slowly. She simply shrugged in
reply. Had I been wrong in assuming that this symbol was the sign of the Hermit?
It could still be all a coincidence, and while Miss Fabre appeared to know about
the art of prophecies and such, she didn't seem to fit the same profile as
Solkon had. Hmm, and if she was the one on the list, why hadn't she by now met
with the same fate as the aforementioned Solkon had? It wasn't as if she had
been all that hard to find here in Quendor. Of course, there was still the
nagging possibility that this whole prophecy of Brand's was one big wild goose
chase.
"Is there anything else that you require from me?" Miss Fabre
asked politely, thus interrupting my musings. Oh well, I had to try and get some
certainties at least.
"How long ago is it exactly that you last attended university?"
I asked outright.
"I graduated a little over fifteen years ago," she said, both
slightly amused and surprised. "I hope that you don't think me too young
for this line of work," she added with a smile.
"Oh no, that wasn't what I meant. That professor you mentioned, do
you still see him now and then?"
"No, he left quite some time ago." I didn't know whether it was
because of something I had said, but she seemed a little bit more amused now.
Suddenly she remarked: "But if you are interested in this subject, you
could of course consider discussing it over dinner." I regarded her in
surprise, but her smile seemed to be quite sincere, so I gave it a mental shrug.
Why not? I guess it would be better to discuss such private matters under more
appropriate circumstances.
"When would it suit you?" I asked. "Tonight?"
"I think that can be arranged. Let's say seven thirty. You can pick
me up at the office." I nodded and made ready to leave. As we shook hands
to say goodbye, I glanced into her eyes. That amusement was still there, but she
also seemed to be a bit puzzled at my apparent interest in her. As I left her
office I found myself thinking that I would rather have her not be the person I
was looking for. She seemed quite nice and I wouldn't want her to get into any
danger. Yet, somehow I had the feeling that she already was, simply because of
my presence here.
It was with a
bit of a heavy heart that I made the arrangements for that evening: a
reservation for two at a cosy little restaurant I had spotted during my tourist
activities the previous day and a new suit for myself to make a good impression.
En route to Quendor I had already shifted into a set appropriate clothes and the
suitcase I had picked up on my way contained at least two spare suits, but it
never hurt to indulge myself a bit now and then, and besides it was a break from
all the sight-seeing. Not that Quendor was such a bad place to visit, mind you,
but I had already seen most of it in that one day. As I said, both a great sense
of history and a move towards the future. Very picturesque in places, with lots
of tourist attractions and accompanying necessary facilities. Quite friendly
too.
One thing that
had struck me about this Shadow was that it appeared to be remarkably stable.
There were, for instance, hardly any signs of it having been affected by the
recent events in Chaos, whereas elsewhere in Shadow I had seen signs of
wholesale destruction. There were other Shadows like this, I knew, that were a
bit more independent of the major forces of the universe and as such were more
resistent to sudden changes in the balance of power, but I hadn't come across
too many of these on my travels.
Towards the end
of the afternoon I returned to my hotel suite (the same one I had stayed in
during my first visit, the time Murlas, Rhiane and I had been looking for
Melusine), just in time for a quick shower and change into my new clothes before
the taxi I had arranged took me back to 24 Lablanche Boulevard. Miss Fabre was
already waiting for me, looking quite splendid in her tasteful yet rather
tight-fitting scarlet dress. We made pleasant conversation on our way to the
restaurant and during most of dinner, which by the way was excellent. It was
just after dessert, as we began to stray from meaningless pleasantries to more
meaningful subjects, when she suddenly asked me about the kind of business my
family was in. I smiled behind my glass of wine and mentioned something about us
managing extensive tracts of land, which in a way wasn't all that far removed
from the truth.
"You
wouldn't in any way be related to the Lablanche family, would you?" she
asked. "It's just that there seems to be a certain family resemblance that
I think I recognize in your features."
"If there exists any form of kinship between us," I said with a
slight frown, "I am not aware of it. However, I have to admit that my
family has proved quite numerous, sometimes even more so than had previously
been thought." Privately I hoped, though, that this wouldn't be one of
those instances. I didn't relish the idea of running into any other Amberites
around here, with the possible exception of Murlas.
"I take it you are not from Quendor then?" she asked, and I
understood that she was referring to the city itself. Apparently, she had not
yet marked me down as a Shadow traveller.
"That is correct. I take it you are?"
"Oh yes, born and raised. Both my parents used to be in the trade,
you see. My mother was a fortune-teller, my father a magician, so naturally I
took up magic in college. As so many do."
"I can't escape the feeling, though, that nowadays not too many make
their living by it."
"Yes," she sighed, "I guess it can't be helped. Technology
can achieve anything, it seems. Many specific forms of magic are hardly
practised anymore these days."
"Like divination?"
"Well, it's always had a certain function, but unfortunately it
isn't very reliable." She gave me a pensive look. "You rather
surprised me," she said. "I'm not generally known to be a expert when
it comes to prognostication. There are others who do work in that field,
however."
"Let's just say that someone recommended you specifically."
"Really? You have a way of arousing my curiosity. Though I hope that
all that money I've been spending on advertising is finally paying off."
"I hate to
disappoint you, but my source was strictly by word of mouth, no ads involved.
Your name was mentioned as one of quite a select group."
"Well," she mused, "there aren't that many
consultants left in Quendor, so in that sense it is a rather select
society."
"I did not mean to imply that this select company should
necessarily be restricted to Quendor only."
"I'm sorry, but I feel that I don't quite follow you," she
said, looking quite puzzled. "There aren't any cross-Shadow societies that
I currently claim membership to, so..."
"Currently?"
"Well, in my youth I used to meddle a bit in that sort of thing, but
you know how it is. Nowadays my job takes up most of my time, and sometimes you
just have to let go of some of your earlier hobbies."
"Sometimes, though, hobbies like these have the unfortunate tendency
to crop up again when you least expect them to," I said, looking very
serious. I knew I had to go out on a limb a bit now, but I had to find out
whether she was the right one. "Does the name Solkon mean anything to
you?" I asked.
"Solkon? Of Rebma?" Her face lit up with recognition. "Of
course, he's one of the big names in the field, especially when it comes to
prophecies and such. I've even met him in person a couple of times." Close,
but still not enough.
"Would it
surprise you if I told you that his name was also mentioned to me in relation
with this select group I was talking about?" Well, it did, that much was
clear from her expression, but not because she wasn't able to form any kind of
connection.
"You're talking about Malachie's little group, aren't you? Oooh,
that takes me back. That was a long, long time ago, I can tell you."
Gotcha!
"Do you remember anything at all about that little group's pursuits
at the time?"
"Well, prophecies of course. It was around the time of my
graduation, and since I was majoring in that particular field, the professor
asked me to become more involved. He introduced me to several of his colleagues,
and I assisted him on his research into the relevant literature. After that we
drifted out of touch, though."
"I don't believe you have mentioned this professor's name," I
remarked, feeling the need for just that little edge of certitude.
"He was called Brandon Lablanche," she replied.
"It would appear that he was a distant relative of Madame Lablanche's. A
fascinating man." Her gaze turned inward and she smiled at the
recollections. "His wife was rather jealous, though," she added with a
wistful smile. "Pity."
While we had
been talking I had been toying with my Trump deck, just below the edge of the
table so Miss Fabre wouldn't see it. I took out the card I had already been
considering and placed it face up in front of her, meanwhile studying her face
for any kind of reaction. There was only a hint of surprise as she regarded the
man in green on the white horse before she looked up to meet my gaze.
"Aha," she said, "so you are related after all. Why didn't
you say so right away?"
"I simply wasn't aware of what alias my uncle had been using in
these parts."
"Your uncle? Ah." Her interest was instantaneously clouded by a
frown. "I should have known," she muttered, more to herself than to
me. "Why can't I just go out on a normal date like anybody else? Finally,
after all this time I have a dinner engagement, and of course..." Her voice
trailed off into unintelligible mublings, but her frustration was plain.
Unfortunately, there was still a lot to discuss, so I couldn't afford her the
time she needed to feel sorry for herself.
"Do you have any inkling of this gentleman's real identity?" I
asked, indicating Brand's Trump.
"As I said, he called himself Brandon. Apparently he had a lot of
connections in Shadow and even in the Courts of Chaos, but I always attributed
this to his renown as an academic. And of course he was clearly a member of the
Lablanche family." She noticed my hint of a frown and asked: "Have you
ever seen Madame Marie Lablanche's portrait? He resembled her, and not a little
too. I never even doubted the fact that he was from Quendor." I sighed.
"My uncle was more widely known as Brand. Prince Brand of
Amber."
"And you
are? Also a Lord of Amber?" I simply nodded. If I had expected any kind of
wild reaction to this revelation, I was to be disappointed. "Many people
around here would not know what you were talking about when you mentioned Amber
to them," Miss Fabre replied calmly, "but in my field of expertise it
pays to be well-informed. However, I think that only very few people are aware
of the possible link between the Lablanche family and the Royal House of
Amber."
"Well, that is something that I myself wasn't aware of before this
evening," I replied lightly. And it would be something to look into later.
Preferably before the Lablanche family became aware of my presence here and
decided to look into the matter themselves.
"In that case," Miss Fabre said pensively, "I think that
your family's problems require more skill and expertise than I with my meagre
divination talents have to offer."
"Oh," I said quickly, "this isn't especially related to
the problems I was talking about earlier on. Amberites generally tend to be
rather reclusive, so most of us don't actually know the others' aliases or their
favourite haunts in Shadow. It's a big universe, after all."
"But you believe that this problem you referred to has
something to do with your uncle, don't you?" she asked sharply.
"Yes, I do." I regarded her for a moment, before asking:
"How much do you know of what happened to Brand?" She heaved a sigh.
"I can honestly say that I never made the connection myself. I
understand that there was some kind of conflict between Amber and the Courts,
and there were some tales that started circulating around here at the time about
there having been a final battle and all. It was said that Prince Brand died in
that engagement. Is that true?"
"Probably...," I replied hesitantly. I realised that most
people in Shadow, that is those who had even heard about Amber, would not have
been aware of Brand's treason or any of the Family infighting. It was standard
Family policy to keep these sort of things strictly under wraps. "The last
that was seen of him was that he fell into the Abyss after having been hit by
two arrows," I added a moment later. That sounded pretty final, I guess,
but we could still by no means be certain of his death. You never could be, it
seemed, with Amberites.
"Pity," she remarked coolly. "He was a fascinating
man." If the news of his death affected her in any way, she was hiding it
well.
"I'm afraid I cannot comment on that myself," I said, "and
that's also an important part of my dilemma. You see, Brand's role in the war
was rather questionable, to put it mildly. Because of this he isn't that highly
regarded within the Family circles, and unfortunately I never got to meet him in
person."
"Wait a
minute," Miss Fabre interjected. "Do you mean to say that all of his
research has been lost because of polical motivations?"
"I can't vouch for all of his work, but I do know that certain parts
have been saved, including one that refers to you and your former colleagues. Do
you remember the content of the prophecies Brand was working on in those
days?" She let out a short laugh.
"I was only an assistant," she explained, "and I only saw
some parts of the whole body of research. The professor was especially
interested in studying the possible connections between a certain number of
ancient prophecies. I spent a great deal of time going over the necessary
documents for him, as well as doing a bit of field work now and then, even in
the Courts on a few occasions." She smiled at what apparently were fond
memories for her, then her expression turned rather wistful.
"Well, I
already mentioned his wife's jealousy. You have to understand that your uncle
was a very charming man, and our relationship was perhaps less formal than would
have been appropriate. In any case, I think his wife started to suspect
something was going on between us and she began to put him under pressure to get
him to dismiss me from the project. I have no idea of what actually had been
said between them, but when we said goodbye he seemed very angry. After that, he
just took up and left the university without giving any notice, and as far as I
know he never bothered to return.
"Some time later I was approached by Malachie, whom I had met a few
times during the earlier research. He asked me to attend a few meetings
pertaining to the topics of the professor's project. A number of colleagues were
apparently also working on the same matter. Anyway, I agreed, perhaps hoping I
would see Brandon again, but I was out of luck. After a few of these meetings I
decided to call it quits, since I felt that I had to get on with my own life. We
sort of drifted out of touch after that."
"I see," I said. "Pardon me for asking, but how much store
do you as a professional set by these kinds of prophecies and revelations?"
"As I said, it ranks among the most inacurate subjects in the field
of magic." She smiled apologetically. "One of the difficulties is that
some of the predictions of the best-known charlatans have come true, while those
of the learned and respected have at times utterly failed to do so. There is yet
much we don't know about this business, most prominently of course how it
actually works. But if you're asking me whether I know of predictions that have
really come true, I'd say yes. However, there are certain prophecies that became
real only because people did their utmost to prevent them, and then there are
threats that were diverted only through foreknowledge."
"That
doesn't help," I said with a wan smile.
"I know. It's just that the tenor of your question tends to lead one
off into the metaphysical."
"Alright, I'll try to make my question more concrete. To what extent
would you believe a prophecy, or an interpretation of one, that came from your
former professor?"
"If you are referring to his research, I have to stress that
professor Brandon was very sceptical for someone in his field," Miss Fabre
said with a very serious expression. Apparently she was still more than a little
fond of my uncle Brand. I wondered how he had been able to inspire such a level
of loyalty in her. "That is one of the reasons that he insisted on doing so
many comparative studies. You see," she continued, taking on more of a
lecturer's stance, "if a certain prophecy crops up in a different form in
different places and some of the occurences that are described can be linked,
it's usually a good indication to start taking matters seriously. Your uncle was
very thorough in this. He tried to discover of each new variant that he came
across whether the source was independent or not. It is possible that through
cultural influences some oral or written tales are carried over in a different
form; in such cases the prophecies naturally don't carry the same weight as the
original one."
"Alright," I said, "then we have a problem."
"If I were you," she said, "I'd at least ask his wife
permission to have a look at his reasearch papers."
"Hmm, I don't think that will be necessary in this particular
case." She hadn't stopped to wait for my reply, though.
"Then, of course, you could go back to his source material. He
hardly could have taken everything with him when he left. The university never
managed to clear out his room. It seems he left some tricky wards around the
place."
"That would seem a good place to start, yes." I regarded Miss
Fabre with a pensive expression. I had to tell her, though. She had been more
than forthcoming with me. "I'm not sure," I said, "but I am
afraid that your life may be in danger." I had expected at least some
surprise and perhaps even fear from her, but instead she just mirrored my
pensiveness.
"I'm not entirely certain either," she mused, "but I think
that you may be right. As it so happens, my life has lately been plagued by a
couple of mishaps that might have proved very dangerous."
"Such as?"
"My balcony
just happened to collapse as I was admiring the morning view. I'm still busy
organising the court case against the contractor who built the thing. Then there
was that car without any lights on a couple of nights ago that tried to run me
down for no reason at all." She sighed a bit dramatically. "I just
couldn't think of any reason why anyone would want to kill me. Why do you
believe that someone may be trying to cover up this line of research?"
"It goes back to those turbulent times I was talking about this
morning," I started to explain. "There appears to be a threat, or at
least Brand believed there to be one, and I must admit that there seems to be
more and more evidence pointing towards there actually being something. In his
final message Brand warned us that some people would be willing to side with
this threat against Amber. He himself believed that the prophecies offered a
solution to the problem, but his own was very extreme, and Malachie for instance
didn't agree with him.
"Shortly after we had heard Brand's message, Solkon was murdered in
Rebma by unknown assaillants. It would appear that already someone or even
several people have chosen the side of the threat, and the less is known about
these prophecies, the easier their task will be. That is why I think you may be
in danger." I fell silent, expecting either protests or suggestions from
her, but she didn't comment on what I had just said, she merely looked at me
with a faint hint of uncertainty in her dark eyes.
"I see two
possibilities," I told her. "One is that you go into hiding, either
here or in some other Shadow." She didn't look pleased at that idea.
"And the other..." I hesitated.
"And the other?" she prompted me.
"Well, the other option is that I more or less try and take you
under my protection. To my best ability of course."
"I see." It was clear that she found this idea even
less appealing. However, she took some time to contain her ire and phrase a
proper reply.
"If I were in your position," I added softly, "I'd take
the first option." Knowing my track record for protecting people and
considering the possible opposition of other, more experienced Amberites, an
attempt at simply disappearing in Shadow had, I felt, a far greater chance of
succeeding than relying upon yours truly for one's survival. I didn't say so out
loud, though; it would take too much time to explain about these doubts of mine.
"I've been in this line of business for over fifteen years
now," Miss Fabre finally said, "and in that time I've managed to built
up a company of my own." Her eyes struck me a powerful blow and her voice
rose to a crescendo as she snapped. "You undoubtedly consider me a rather
pathetic creature, but let me assure you that I am not entirely without
resources!"
"Neither was Solkon," I countered calmly in the hush that her
outburst had caused.
"Solkon had no warning of his danger. Besides," she sneered,
"he was absent-minded, old and..." She paused, trying to find the
right word, before she spat: "Complacent." She stiffly drew back in
her chair and in a chillingly crisp tone continued: "Lord Dorian, if that
is your true name, I appreciate your old-fashioned tendency towards chivalry and
the protection of the weaker sex, but please, don't offend me by treating me
like some small child."
Ouch! I had
unwittingly touched a sore spot, and I didn't think saying that I would have
presented the same two options to any other person in her situation, regardless
of their gender, would help very much to placate her. It wasn't because she was
a woman that I felt an obligation to take her under my wing, it was because she
simply wouldn't stand a chance against any of my elder relatives. Then again,
perhaps I wouldn't either.
"Touche," I said. "Two comments, though. One: I am serious
about going into hiding. I know I would do so if I were in your shoes."
"I don't
make a habit of running away from my problems," she said coldly.
"That's
your own choice, I guess. Two: my rather old-fashioned offer of protection, as
you put it, has a different side to it that is not entirely devoid of self-
interest. You have to understand that you are the first of your group that have
spoken to. Most of the names on Brand's list are entirely unknown to me, let
alone that I have any idea where to find their various Shadows." That at
least rekindled a spark of interest in her.
"Ah, that's a different matter. It sounds as if you need a competent
consultant." Still trying to assert herself. Sigh.
"Are you quite sure that you want to apply for the job?" I
asked, despite the fact that what I had said about being lost without her being
quite true.
"I never
shirk from any challenge," she replied fiercely, "but I have no
intention of demeaning myself as your ward, or secretary, or whatever you want
to call it. I am my own boss, always have been, always will be. If you are
really interested, you may acquire my services, on a purely freelance basis of
course." A faintly amused smile played lightly on my face in response to
her grin of cool self-confidence.
"And what would your rates be in a case such as this?" I asked.
She smiled a bit more warmly now and named a sum in Quendorian currency that
could only be described as quite steep indeed. I simply nodded, however; money
was not a problem.
"In light of your special talents and resources, however," she
quickly added, "I feel that we could negotiate about bonuses and other
extras, don't you?" I assented again. It wouldn't do not to pay her
anything that lay within reason for the services that she would be able to
render, and I have never really had the habit of being tight-fisted. If my
abilities as an Amberite could help other people become a bit happier in their
particular lives, then why not?
"Do you
require me to sign any form of contract to seal this engagement?" I asked.
"Do you want me to draw it up here and now?" she asked in
return, showing again a bit of surprise.
"Oh no, that won't be necessary." I quickly assured her.
"It is regular to have some form of written agreement in cases like
these," she said, then added more bitterly: "Oh, I know it doesn't
make any kind of difference to you. As an Amberite you undoubtedly have
limitless resources, don't you?"
"In certain ways, yes," I conceded. Her expression had become
darker as she hit upon some kind of realisation.
"And now you are after something that is in my possession:
information. I could of course ask for nigh-infinite riches or power in return
for my knowledge, couldn't I?" She looked at me for some confirmation, so I
shrugged. Yes, she could ask for anything she wanted, within reason. "Then
again," she continued acidly, "if you so wished, you could easily take
this information from me in a undoubtedly very unpleasant manner. But since I
trust my rates aren't too unreasonable, I think we'd better leave it at
that."
Her gaze
challenged me to repudiate anything she had said, and for a moment I wanted to,
but found that I couldn't. I snapped my mouth shut, sat back in my chair and
merely nodded, my expression blank. In my mind I went back and retraced the
things that had been said in the course of this conversation. Had I really been
so callous as to give her reason to fear me? I had been slow to confide in her,
that was true, and perhaps I had hinted too much at the danger that Amberites
represented, but that was only because I myself was all too much aware of this
danger. Yet the arrogance she had hinted at, had accused me of even, could not
be denied, and it reminded me too much of certain of my relatives. Surely I
wasn't like that, was I? Only it now would appear that I was. Miss Fabre's most
biting accusation was true, however: if push had come to shove and she had been
entirely unwilling to cooperate, I would have forced the information out of her.
I wouldn't have liked it, but I realised that I would have done it all the same.
Silently I met her gaze, searching for a trace of sympathy, but not finding any.
Her own grief was too immediate for her to deal effectively with mine.
Miss Fabre
looked away and said in a level voice: "I suggest you come round my office
tomorrow morning. Then we'll draw up the contract and I'll tell you whatever you
want to know." With an air of dignity and hurt pride she stood up and
clasping her purse she made as if to leave. No, this wouldn't do.
"Wait," I said hoarsely. "Please, sit down, just for a
moment." She glanced back at me, sighed, and did as I had asked. "I'm
sorry," I began awkwardly. "This hasn't turned out as either of us
expected. I only wish the circumstances could have been different."
"You don't need to apologize," she said. "I understand
that your whole life is played out on an entirely different level. But I hope
that you understand that these creatures that you see as lesser beings also have
their sense of pride and dignity." The full power of her hurt feelings was
behind that remark, but she immediately relented. "I'm rather poor at
customers relations, I find," she said with a shrug. "Please, excuse
me."
The friendly
chatter from the other dining couples around us could only barely break through
the silence that hung over our table. I struggled to find a way to... Oh, I
don't know. Make amends, perhaps. Show her that I wasn't like that, wasn't like
the others. I couldn't, though. There was nothing that I could have said that
wouldn't have rung false in my own ears, and the old Dorian somewhere deep
inside of me demanded absolute truthfulness. So, I let the silence linger on, no
matter how unbearable it was becoming. Finally, Miss Fabre was the one to break
it and speak up first.
"I feel I have caused you some grief," she said softly,
uncertainly. "For that I'm sorry."
"I's not your fault," I managed. "Sometimes the truth is
painful." I sighed deeply and found the strength to continue. "It's
frightening in a way. So often have I reminded myself not to turn into the same
sort of person as so many of my elders, only to realise that I am already much
closer to the edge than I had thought possible."
She regarded me
pensively, before venturing: "Maybe you will be able to achieve some kind
of inner balance. With your uncle, for instance, I used to sense a certain
degree of, well, I guess you could say respect, even for those who did not hail
from Amber.
"You know,
on a different level the situation is much the same for us magicians: we have
some power to do what we want and simply ride roughshod over other people's
rights, and unfortunately this does happen every once in a while. Personally,
however, I find it helpful to abide by the restrictions imposed on me by the
laws and moral codes. Having said that, I would not hesitate to use my powers in
a matter of life or death, and frankly I think that your deliberations will not
differ too much from my own."
Although I
acknowledged the validity of her views, I felt a pang of despair and deep sorrow
at her reliance on basic laws and morality. What was there to act as guidance
for me? Amber law? Nothing more than Oberon's directives to keep matters under
his control, perhaps adjusted in a few ways during the recent years of Random's
kingship. Amber morality? Ha! That survival of the fittest mentality was exactly
the thing I was trying to avoid. Once again I faced the sense of utter
loneliness. Miss Fabre must be right, I realised: the other Amberites must have
struck some kind of balance that allowed them to survive, both mentally and
physically. Oh yes, we choose, alone?
"Do you
ever have these moments when you'd rather be rid of all your powers?" I
asked wearily. She shrugged.
"They're a part of me. All in all, no, I'd rather stay as I am. The
responsibility is always there, though." She seemed quite sincere and must
have given the matter some thought n earlier occasions.
"I think you're a happier person than most people," I remarked,
rising slowly to my feet. She reflected on this for a moment, considering
whether this was a valid assessment.
"Perhaps I am," was her only comment. People who are truly
happy seldom realise it at the time, though.
"Come," I said, extending a hand to help her up from her chair,
"I'll call us a taxi and escort you home." Her expression was mixed.
"If it is an inconvenience, you don't have to. I'll be fine."
"No, I insist. Besides, it's no bother." At least let me do
this one thing right. She simply shrugged. It wasn't something worth fighting
over.
We remained
silent during the taxi ride back to her office building, where she apparently
also had her appartment. There was much that had been said earlier, and we both
would have to think things over before we could say more. Our goodbyes
constituted of a simple exchange of wan smiles, after which the taxi sped me off
into the night, back to my empty hotel suite.
That night I
hardly slept. I drank a little, but somehow the alcohol made me feel even more
morose, so I stopped after the first couple of drinks. Fortunately, Quendorian
television had a broad range of films showing during the night, and they helped
to serve as a small form of distraction. My thoughts kept going round and round
in circles, though, turning and turning in a widening gyre. Self-pity and
despair were the two forces holding me in their pull and I couldn't find
anything to break their grasp. When I finally dozed off, my dreams proved as bad
as my waking thoughts, so the following morning I felt barely rested at all. I
still had no answer except simply to go on and hope to find a better one.
Brand's research beckoned, and there was always the Lablanche family to look
into. I would be able to keep busy. I'd better.