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.

     From one of her desk drawers she fetched a rather nice-looking deck of tarot cards and gave them to me to shuffle while I concentrated on my particular problem. That wasn't too hard, I just had to keep one thing in mind: the Wolves. After all, if Brand had been right, that was the source of our possible problems.

     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."

     That much was clear. However, this also meant that Brand's warning was a lot more serious than it had first seemed, that is, if it wasn't yet some wild goose chase that he or someone else had devised for us. As things stood, though, there wasn't any evidence to support that last supposition. Sigh...

     "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.

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

Back to the index