Chapter 073: A Spot Of Burglary
"I was a general
Of darkness and light
I was to be the major man
It was some kind of sight
I was going to stand alone
And do what was right
Now I'm just another stepping stone
A thief in the night"
The Water - Spock's Beard
The night was dark and cloudy, not a glimmer fom the moon or stars, and
the public lights of the university complex were few and far between, so it was
easy for us to make our way across the grounds unnoticed.
Fortunately, there weren't even any security guards to contend with,
Quendor being the sort of place where learning is appreciated and respected but
continually under-financed, so the only threat was being spotted by a late night
student or professor at work, who might become suspicious at our appearance and
call the local constabulary. For we had dressed for the part: tight black
body-suits with matching black sneakers, hair in a sensible plait, face slightly
darkened, and electrical torches and burglary kits close at hand. Not exactly my
idea of a pleasant night out on the town, but it was something different from my
usual routine, and I couldn't deny that there was a certain sense of
excitement to it. Now, if nothing unexpected would crop up, I would
really be pleased.
The aim of our spot of amateur burglary was of course the study of the
late Brandon Lablanche, a.k.a. my uncle, the late Prince Brand of Amber, the
`we' in question being his former student Miss Janice Fabre and yours truly. The
morning after I had returned to Quendor I had arrived at Miss Fabre's office,
quite unanounced but with a cheque for an amount that would serve as a
substantial downpayment towards the figure we had agreed would be her fee for
her services as my magical consultant. She had naturally been a bit surprised
and also slightly annoyed because of the way I had vanished from Quendor without
any notice, but while I had been away she had been busy taking matters up with
the university board. Unfortunately, her official request to be allowed entrance
to professor Lablanche's chamber had been denied on the grounds of them being
unable to foretell what would happen if anyone started messing with the wards my
uncle had left around his study. The chance that something might happen which
would endanger the entire university was not unthinkable, so the risk was deemed
too great. Miss Fabre had, of course, filed for appeal with the higher
authorities, but she told me frankly that she didn't think it would do us any
good. So, we had to resort to more direct measures. Since neither of us had any
idea what to expect, it had seemed better to pay the university a nightly visit
in order to have plenty of time to work our way past those wards. Miss Fabre had
warned me that we should leave everything as undisturbed as possible, for her
name was on all the official requests and in case of an inquiry she would
immediately be the most likely suspect, but I couldn't promise her anything. I
had to get into that study, and if that meant leaving some cracked egg-shells
lying arround, then so be it.
"Computer lab," Miss Fabre whispered to me, indicating with a
nod the few lighted windows in the main building where we would be conducting
our business. We crouched behind some bushes only a few metres from the main
entrance. As I looked at her close beside me, the faint light accentuated her
slim athletic figure. Yes, she looked rather appealing, and I wondered whether I
was not somewhat beginning to regret our `strictly business' relationship. I
caught myself nervously fingering my plaited hair, something that I unwittingly
had been doing a few times before. Why was I so uptight? I realised it was the
same feeling that had been with me after my ordeal in Cardane that was now still
bothering me. Initially I had figured that it might have something to do with
the Curse, that was why I had spent the previous night at the hotel making sure
that these kinds of passions wouldn't interfere with our business. The sex had
been very good, but the feeling had not gone away. In fact, if I didn't know
better, I'd say it had even become stronger. With some difficulty I dragged my
mind back to the matter at hand, although I found that I had
better direct my stare elsewhere to keep from being distracted.
"Students probably," Miss Fabre added, unaware of my gaze and
inner turmoil. "Working late. Or playing games." Fine. It was already
past midnight and I hadn't really counted on anyone being there, but I hoped
they would keep out of our way. "There might be a problem," she
continued, now looking at the main entrance. "An electronic security
system. They can't use magic for the main system, since it would interfere with
all the magical experiments in the building. I was hoping you might have some
experience with something like this." She looked at me questioningly, but I
shook my head. Electronics weren't exactly my speciality. A light frown
momentarily creased her brow, but then she mused that it might not be too
difficult to cause a temporary power failure. She explained that there had been
a general blackout a while back, and she had heard that at a certain point they
had simply switched off all the
automatic alarms instead of checking all these public buildings for
intruders. While I agreed that it might be helpful to get us inside, I hesitated
to cause a blackout on such a scale. There had to be a more elegant way of doing
this.
And of course there was. Knowing the general academic personality, it
wasn't at all unlikely that some absent-minded professor might have dropped his
keycard while putting it away, so it only took a minimal use of Pattern to get
us in. Fortunately, these keycards were of the sort that you just slip through a
scanner to open the doors, no codes or anything.
"Hmm, quite a coincidence," Miss Fabre said.
"Isn't it?" I smiled. She had undoubtedly sensed me doing
something on a power level, but she couldn't tell what. Well, we each have our
ways.
I let her go first, since she knew where we were headed. The dark halls
were eerily silent, save for the few rooms in the computer sciences wing, the
ones we had observed earlier on. Their occupants were much too much
engrossed in their gaming, however, to notice us sneaking about, although
we had to wait for a moment while one of them speedily ran out to the coffee
machine and back again with a fresh supply of magical staying-awake juice. It
was a good thing that the magical studies wing was a few corridors further down,
so we could be sure that none of them would come wandering in our direction.
Finally, Miss Fabre stopped in front of a door in a dark hallway. There
was another electronic lock, but that wouldn't be the worst of our troubles: I
could already sense the wards from a few metres away. There were three of them,
one purely based on Pattern, one involving Trump energies, and the third one
rather vague, perhaps something akin to local magical powers. The bad news was
that they were all linked to one another, so fooling around with one would
very likely trigger the other two. The good news, however, was that it
had been a few years since Brand had put these wards in place, and in the
meantime they had not been maintained in any way, so the links between them
weren't as firm anymore as they once had been.
I realised that to have a good look at the wards we would first have to
open the door itself, for the wards were just inside the room. However, when I
tried the keycard I had `found' outside, the damned thing wouldn't work, giving
a malfunction warning instead. A bit crestfallen I had already started
reconsidering the blackout option, when Miss Fabre nudged me aside and attached
a little electronic device to the lock. She punched a few keys and with a click
the door sprung open, swinging inward to reveal the room.
"He hadn't even changed his code," she smirked. "The
number of his bank account," she clarified smugly. "This is a bit
illegal of course, but it does the trick." It certainly did. We each have
our ways, indeed.
The meagre light through the window revealed a sparsely furnished study:
a tall closed bookcase on our left, a working desk with chair near the window,
and the mummified remains of some harmless potted plants. Strangely
enough, there didn't seem to be any dust, which immediately made me think
back to the lab in the Hermit's castle. This wasn't at all like the Overshadow,
though, as I had to remind myself. Fortunately not.
The three wards were layered in the same way as I have already described
them, which was probably the reason why no one else at the university had been
able to remove them. The Pattern is still a very exclusive commodity. The Trump
ward that was immediately linked to it would most likely act directly on anyone
foolish enough to tackle the Pattern ward and transport them somewhere else,
somewhere unpleasant. I couldn't tell what the third one would do, though, no
matter how much I studied it.
"Impressive, isn't it?" Miss Fabre whispered. "He once
told me he had especially designed these wards himself for what he called
`standard purposes'." Read: anything involving Family. I sincerely doubted
that anyone but a few of my relatives would even have a chance of bypassing
these security measures at all. So, now the question was whether I was one of
them too.
After studying the whole setup for some time, I decided that the most
vulnerable spots were the links between the wards themselves, since time and
wear had left them a lot weaker than they had been when Brand had first erected
them. The trick would be to sever the connections between the wards without
triggering them, after which I would be able to deal with them on an individual
basis. This was far from as easy as I made it sound, though, for the way the
wards were interwoven had me facing a virtual nightmare of powerlines that each
had to be cut in exactly the right order. Of course, things would have been a
lot easier and less risky if there had been someone specialised in Trumps ready
to assist me. Unfortunately, the only other person I could call upon was Murlas,
and as far as I knew his knowledge of Trump wasn't any more extensive than my
own.
In hushed tones I explained my plan to Miss Fabre, making sure she knew
the risk involved. She did, of course, but showed no inclination to move to a
safer distance. In fact, she said she would be able to erect a barrier of local
magical power, which wouldn't be any help at all with the first two wards, but
which might shield us from the unknown third one. I figured that I might be able
to counteract the Trump ward, if I was lucky. Concentrating on Pattern, I moved
my awareness to a spot outside the building, the place behind the bushes from
where we had observed the entrance, and I tentatively anchored myself to this
location. It was a bit of a strain on my attention, but if anything went wrong,
it would take only an instinctive reaction to transport both me and Miss Fabre
directly to safety. Hopefully it would be fast enough.
I glanced at Miss Fabre and she nodded, indicating that she was ready.
Her magical tricks wouldn't interfere with my own work, I felt. Good. Cautiously
I began working on the links between the Pattern and the Trump wards, severing
them one by one. So far so good. Little pearls of sweat broke out on my brow,
mingling with the grime. If I could get this one right... No! There was a sudden
spike of power. I felt how the energies of the wards started building towards a
climax and in my haste I brutally collapsed the Pattern ward. The Trump ward was
still active, though, and the third one too. With the Trump energies licking
round my Pattern field, I reached for the place in my mind.
There was a bright flash.
There was a burst of heat.
And then we were standing outside in the cool night air. I heaved a sigh.
We seemed to have escaped without injury, even though Miss Fabre had identified
the third ward as a standing flamethrower spell. Her own shield had been able to
deflect its effects for just long enough, though.
While we caught our breaths and waited to see whether the disturbance we
had caused had been noticed by anyone, I checked out the hallway with my Pattern
vision. Everything seemed to be just like we had left it, and when after five
minutes still no one had showed up, we decided to go back inside. Just to be
sure, I didn't teleport us back, since there might yet be some magical traps
around that a burst of Pattern energy would interfere with. Quickly we retraced
our path back to the study, again past the students in front of their computer
screens who seemed completely oblivious to anything else that might be going on
in the building. I wondered whether they even knew what time it was.
Back at the door, we found that our tampering had left its mark after
all: the flamethrower spell that Miss Fabre's barrier had guarded us from had
blackened the opposite wall, and we could count ourselves lucky that it had not
in fact caused a real fire. As for the wards, there was only one remaining,
namely the one based on Trump. Apparently I had been able to defuse the Pattern
ward, and the spell ward must have been a one-shot affair. With these two out of
the way, however, the Trump ward was a doddle: Trump may both be both powerful
and useful, its processes always have to be fuelled by some other power source,
which usually amounts to either one of the Major Powers. Since this ward was the
handiwork of an Amberite, it was powered by Pattern, and it was only a formality
for me to let those energies slowly drain away without upsetting the ward
itself.
A few minutes later we were ready to enter the study, or so I thought. I
was about to step forward, when Miss Fabre suddenly gripped my arm.
"There's an electronic security system in the floorboards," she
whispered urgently. "I just remembered. Professor Lablanche was maybe a
little paranoid."
Or he just knew
his Family very well. I had had just about enough of his tricks, though. This
security system, it was probably rather old, and since the wards had been in
place all these years, any maintenance would have been impossible. What were the
odds on something having short-circuited? They were high enough, I felt. I
glanced at Miss Fabre to confirm that she had noticed my twiddling with
probability again.
"Is there anything else?" I asked.
"Not that I'm aware of."
"No swinging axes or poisoned darts shooting out of the walls?"
"That was never really his style," she said with a smile. Well,
you never knew. Cautiously I took one step inside, and when no imminent disaster
anounced itself, I walked up to the desk and started searching through it, aided
by the sudden bright light of our torches. The desk itself was empty, aside from
reams of blank paper, some stationary, and a few pens and pencils. The bookcase
was the only other option, and it was indeed the place where Brand's notes and
treatises had been stored. Until quite recently, that was. A faint outline in
sawdust marked the spot where the books and papers had stood all these years,
while the large hole gaping in the rear of the bookcase and the wall behind it
had probably served as their exit point. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Both me and
Brand, that is. He had warded his office so well, and then he had completely
overlooked a simple trick like this.
"Yes, this was where he kept his collection," Miss Fabre
remarked. "I wonder who used to occupy the other room and how long ago it
is that this occurred." She cast a small spell and added: "Not all
that long. Days, rather than weeks."
"Let's have a look next door," I said with a sigh.
It turned out to be a secretary's office. In fact, Miss Fabre recalled
the secretary who used to work here, a bit of a tart with flashy blonde hair. It
had been one of the people she had had to deal with on her official quest to be
allowed entrance into Brand's study. This secretary had not shown up for work
for a few days now, and no one knew what had happened to her. No one had
apparently bothered to check out her office either, for the hole in the wall and
the saw that had been used in its making were both in plain sight.
"Do you think there might be a picture of this woman somewhere in
the building?" I asked. I had to find out who it was that had beaten me to
it.
"There might be one in the official records, but I don't know.
Perhaps... I do remember overhearing some of the other secretaries talking about
a night out they had had with the entire staff, and I believe one of them had
taken pictures."
"Okay, know where can we find them?"
"If we're lucky they're at the other secretariat, one floor
down."
We were. A drawer yielded a collection of bright and cheerful images
taken at a bowling alley. Miss Fabre skipped through them until she found the
person she was looking for.
"Here, this is her."
I held the picture up to the light and right away started cursing
inwardly. The blonde with too much make-up who was triumphantly holding aloft
the first prize trophy was all too familiar: it was aunt Flora. I guess her
involvement in this didn't surprise me too much, since I still had her tagged as
a pretty good candidate for the role of Filigree on the Overshadow, but it was
awkward all the same. My only consolation would be taking and circulating this
unflattering photograph of her around the Court; it wouldn't jive with the
careful image she had been maintaining all these years.
"I know who she is," I sighed to Miss Fabre. "I'll explain
later, though. First we'd better get out of here, that is if we don't have any
other business left." She shook her head. Of course, she wasn't too
thrilled about the blackened wall in the hallway or the hole that aunt Flora had
sawed, but she couldn't think of any way to disguise these either. I guess she
would just have to weather the official suspicions that would be coming her way.
They wouldn't be able to prove that she had been anywhere near the place,
though, for the official version would have me testifying that we had never left
her apartment that night. As far as I was aware, there were no witnesses to our
trip to the university, so she should be in the clear.
When we had made our way out of the building, I decided to take the
shortcut back to Miss Fabre's apartment-cum-office by executing a Pattern hop.
After washing the dirt from our faces and changing back to our regular
clothes, Miss Fabre poured us something to drink and settled down for my
explanations. Well, I felt I owed her that much at least, but in the meantime I
had also been thinking, and it seemed to me that I would have to trust her a bit
more than I had done up till now. With Solkon dead and Brand's study here in
Quendor raided but a few days before our own illegal entry, the net of
coincidences was getting tighter and tighter. No matter whether Brand's
predictions were correct or not, if I didn't act quickly there might not be
enough material left to tell either way. The matter had by Flora's sudden
involvement become a lot more urgent, and I would soon be contacting dear
brother Murlas to see what he had dug up so far and to discuss whether it would
not be wise to get some help from others to speed things up. We may have parted
with Rinaldo and Martin on less than favourable terms, but their already being
in on the thing made them the most likely candidates for possible allies. And if
my guess about Flora being Filigree was right, it might give me a handle on
Martin too.
She must have known that I was in Quendor, I realised, especialy if she
had met Miss Fabre a couple of times. It wouldn't have been too hard to trace
her back to me, would it? She had known alright, and she hadn't contacted me
directly. Suddenly Alexander's suppositions came to mind, the ones about the
attack on Galoria all along really having been aimed at Cardane. Fact was that
that caper had conveniently kept me away from Quendor for a while, perhaps for
just the margin of days that aunt Flora had beaten us by. I had to be careful, I
realised, in seeing these kind of conspiratorial patterns everywhere, but it was
awfully coincidental. Perhaps a direct confrontation could turn some of the ifs
and maybes into something more concrete.
First though, I had to tell my tale to Miss Fabre. We were partners,
after all, and since the next step in our investigation would undoubtedly take
us to some other place than Quendor she needed to know what was at stake here as
much as I did. As I showed her aunt Flora's card from my Trump deck, I figured
that she might as well have a look at all the other cards; perhaps there were
some other people that she had met before and that I should know about, and if
not, she would at least be able to recognize them in the future. Then, asking
her to save any questions for when I had finished, I started telling her about
Brand's castle on the Overshadow and the message he had left there for his son,
telling us of an unknown danger that would come from outside our Reality. I
clarified Brand's role in the Patternfall War a bit for her with regard to the
damage he had done to the Pattern and his alleged reasons for this. Also, I
included the creation of Corwin's Pattern and how the instability of our Reality
had been used by a fourth Power, the Nexus, to establish a foothold of its own.
Coming back to Brand's predictions, I mentioned his thoughts on other relatives
of ours possibly being in league with the enemy, the Wolves, and the fact that
this heightened our already substantial sense of Family paranoia. This with a
nod to Flora's Trump, of course.
Without casting a too favourable light on myself, I mentioned how Murlas
and me had taken possession of Brand's remaining notes and how we had agreed to
investigate the relevancy of his warnings together. Which was how I had ended up
on her doorstep. After a moment's hesitation I also told her about my visit to
the Lablanche estate, my meeting with Lothair and Aurelia, and how both Bleys
and Fiona had denied knowledge of their existence. I informed her of the brief
state of war that had existed when the Sherwynian army had set out for Galoria,
including the information that King Adrian's allies apparently hailed from some
other Reality. Briefly I outlined the events that had
taken place in Cardane, along with my reasons for being there in the
first place, and not forgetting to mention my second encounter with the
mysterious Lothair. After all of that was over, I had returned to Quendor and
the rest she knew.
As I slowly told her my story, it wasn't easy for me to read her
reactions, especially since she strove to keep her expression neutral and
non-committal. She couldn't repress an amused frown at the mention of my
children, though; apparently I surprised her in that regard. Well, I probably
wouldn't see myself as proper father material either, come to think of it. As
for myself, I tried to report my story as neutrally as possible, leaving all
suppositions and theories unspoken, even though they may have been apparent in
the things I did tell her. My aim, however, was to get her view of the matter,
not my own mirrored back at me. There might be some connection I was
overlooking, some link I had not made that might be obvious to an outsider. And
that was what we were partners for, wasn't it?