Chapter 085: Nightmare Visitor
"Watch
out now
Take
care, beware
Of
thoughts that linger
Windin'
round inside your head
And
the pain that often lingers
In
the dead of night
In
the dead of night
Beware
of darkness"
Beware
of Darkness - Spock's Beard
Despite
all the pressing issues I ought to have seen to, I found that having to wait for
one day for Random to settle on a course of action wasn't too much of an
annoyance. I decided to spend most of my time down in the city with my father
Vilcon; enjoying a little quality time, so to speak. However, I found that I
couldn't quite bring myself to tell him about some of the things that had
happened to me lately. I just didn't want him to worry too much about me, and
hearing his son had recently been residing in a damp and dark dungeon would do
more than a little to upset him. Also, I decided not to mention Diana's wedding
plans just yet, since Random's reservations had somewhat tempered my own
enthusiasm about this. I first wanted to see how this allegiance issue was to be
resolved before I would make the news public.
My
father had some reason to be taciturn in certain areas too, it seemed. There
were some moments when he would fall silent and his face would take on a
somewhat somber expression. Finally, he let on that he had recently had another
visit from my mother, but he didn't tell me anything else beyond that they had
talked. His mood told me enough, though, and I didn't press him for more
information. This way, all in all, we managed to keep things quite pleasant and
civil, and the hours simply flew by.
At
dinner that night it turned out that most of my relatives had already flown the
coop, and but a handful remained, making this a far less formal event. Before we
started, however, Random took me aside for a moment to inform me that he had
reconsidered and had decided to postpone taking any actions against Flora for
the time being, but he assured me that when he was going to invite her over I
would be the first he would contact, and he would certainly consider me as a
member of the delegation. My reaction was a half-nod, half-shrug. On the one
hand his decision left me free to head back towards Quendor, and it also put my
appointment in Sherwyn forward, but on the other hand I wondered whether
deferral was really the best course of action, since it would give Flora more
time to consider her options. Ultimately, however, he was the King, and I didn't
feel an urgent need to question his decisions right then.
Like
I said, most relatives had left now that all official business had been taken
care of, making the dining hall seem nearly empty. Aside from Random and Vialle,
Julian and Gerard were present, but then they appeared to spend most of their
time in or around Amber. Caine was there, talking to Julian, and Martin was also
still around, probably trying to play the dutiful son to ameliorate his dad.
Finally, Rinaldo and Charles were sitting near Vialle, sharing a conversation.
I
wondered a bit about Melusine's absence, especially since I didn't think Random
would let her wander too far from Amber right now, and out of curiosity I asked
Gerard, who was sitting next to me, what he figured her status in Amber was
going to be. He replied that in his opinion a child should never be held
responsible for the actions of their parent, even though the reverse was
standard practise. As far as Melusine was concerned, she had made her position
clear enough for him. Ultimately, of course, we were all related, and she
couldn't help it that she was Flora's daughter, could she? However, he could
well understand how her loyalties had made her quietly assist her mother up till
now. Of course, he wasn't as naïve as I may make him out to be: he was
certainly harbouring a few doubts about Melusine, but overall his attitude
towards her was rather friendly, as I had come to expect from him.
Something
he mentioned in his reply made my mind shoot of on another train of thought,
something about children and parents. "You touched upon the issue of
parents being responsible for their children's actions," I said. "How
far does that rule stretch, I wonder? I mean, is it something that will go on
indefinitely?"
"As
far as I know," he said, "it does, until such time when the parent
might decide to wash their hands of their offspring. That's one option that is
always open to them: renounce the blood tie and leave the child to fend for
themselves, although some would never take this step and would choose to enforce
a strong sense of discipline instead. After all, there would be some loss of
face involved, since it would be tantamount to admitting that you have failed in
your task as a parent."
"But
apart from that there are no other options? I mean, couldn't a parent just say
at a certain point that they think their child is mature enough to handle their
own responsibilities? It would be a more friendly way of settling these issues,
surely?"
"I
hadn't really thought about it that way," Gerard mused. "But then it
hasn't come up before. Oberon simply never gave us the impression that he
thought us capable of taking our own reponsibilities, he would just order us
around. I guess his policy just got adopted into the Family law, one way or
another."
"I
think it's an issue that will be bound to come up, sooner or later. Take my
situation, for instance. I've got seven children by now, who differ but very
little in age from myself, in comparison to the general age differences in the
Family I mean."
"But
physical age isn't everything, is it?" he interjected. "It's a sort of
spiritual maturity that really matters in an Amberite." Yeah, sure, as if
everyone among my aunts and uncles were that mature. I took care not to let my
scepticism show, however. "I realise that not all relationships between
Amberite parents and children are the same," Gerard continued.
"Deirdre doesn't appear to interfere too much in your ways, and I know
Caine to be rather reluctant in his parenting duties towards Murlas, but then
his parentage may still be in question. And of course, you grew up without
Deirdre's direct influence, so some degree of detachment would be
understandable. Bleys, on the other hand, seems quite serious in his role as
Boadice's adoptive father, and he clearly doesn't seem to think her mature
enough to act on her own authority." At this I permitted myself a hint of a
smile. "Corwin made a right mess of things, though," Gerard said with
a frown. "Alright, there was that case of amnesia, but that doesn't excuse
everything. I mean, Adrian and Alexander, how mature are they in a final
analysis?"
"I
don't know," I conceded, "but I think they're getting to be more so
every day."
"No
thanks to their father," he snorted.
"You
never know. He might still be playing a part in the process." I decided to
leave it at that for the moment. The relationship between parent and child would
be a topic to bring up again at a later date, but before that it might be good
for people at least to think about the issue. It was, or would be, very
important to me, both in my position as Deirdre's son and from my own point of
view as a parent of seven, but it had a very low priority compared to other
matters.
Now
that I was talking with Gerard, it was all but too easy to keep on going, though
none of our other points of conversation were of any earth-shattering
importance. Trade routes, mostly, and the Amber navy. A little about the local
nobility, the people I knew from my youth. Something about the Golden Circle
Shadows. Nothing crucial, but we carried on well after dinner and brandies, so I
decided I might as well stay another night and leave for Quendor early in the
morning.
I
took my time getting there, too, for I wanted to get a good feel of the
influence of the Enemy's corrupted Nexus power and to see whether it extended
far beyond Quendor. Actually, its power was hardly detectable from more than a
few Shadows away, but its presence in Quendor itself was stronger than ever.
Much stronger even than I had sensed but a few days ago, which I found quite
worrying.
Making
sure to shift into the kind of stylish black suit I had become accustomed to
during my earlier visits, I casually walked down the streets of Quendor city,
daring its alien influences to spring out at me. There were still a lot of
posters everywhere proclaiming the might and benevolence of Lucius, the Thaumos,
and calling on everyone to support the Thaumacorps. The general mood in the city
seemed oppressive, although this may only have been my own impression based on
the face of this creep staring down at me from each and every wall, for the
welcome I received at my usual hotel was as friendly as ever. It was a good
thing I had taken the trouble to pay them a substatial advance, cause I quite
enjoyed the luxury of the place and the growing familiarity of my usual suite.
Feeling
a bit hungry, I ordered up some roomservice, yet during the wait I decided to
try and do a little scouting. As soon as I tried to bring up the sign of the
Pattern, however, an overwhelming throb of pain began to reverberate around my
skull. During the last few shifts before my arrival in the Shadow I had
experienced some mild interference from the Enemy's power, but now it was
seriously dampening my abilities. After a moment's hesitation I chose to plunge
ahead, though, whatever the consequences might be, for I wanted both to take a
quick look at Miss Fabre's apartment and to test the restraints I would be
working under.
I
was lucky in that I already knew where to direct my gaze, cause I had barely
enough time to glimpse through all of the rooms and ascertain that she was not
at home. The entire apartment was cloaked in darkness, but I managed to make out
that the place was a bit of a mess, as if someone had searched it and had not
been too concerned about being detected afterwards. Finally, just before I had
to pull back, I descried a slightly darker shape sitting near the window and
smoking a cigarette. He was wearing a dark trenchcoat, and for a moment I
thought he might be the same man who had answered the door the last time I had
been there. I couldn't be sure, though, and I had no more time to make sure;
with a headache that could have split the Pattern itself I collapsed back onto
the bed and only came to my senses again when the hotel staff arrived with my
meal.
The
food helped a little, but only a little, and I'm sorry to say I didn't really do
it the justice it deserved. Eating did calm me down somewhat, though, and
despite the still lingering throb of pain I was beginning to feel rather drowsy.
A relaxing shower was just enough to help me fall asleep. The night proved far
from restful, however, for I had a quite disturbing dream.
I
dreamt I was asleep, lying in my bed in my hotel room, though somehow I was
uncannily aware of my surroundings. Suddenly, slowly, the door to my room
opened, and a dark figure stepped inside. He wore a long coat and a hat with a
brim that kept his features hidden. The only things I could make out as he moved
towards the bed were his eyes: two scarlet dots burning with an unearthly light.
Knowing this was a dream, I tried to wake up, but it didn't work, and to my
alarm I found that I couldn't move a limb either. It seemed as if invisible
bonds were keeping me tied to the bed. Panic gripped me and I started to fight,
but still I couldn't even twitch so much as a finger.
The
dark figure loomed menacingly over me now, his right hand reaching into his coat
and producing some small object, undoubtedly threatening in nature. As his hand
began its inevitable trajectory down towards my chest, I suddenly felt that I
had somehow freed my own left arm. Immediately it shot upwards, intercepting the
intruder's hand just before the dagger he was holding could plunge into my
heart. He was strong, but I was stronger, and my sudden reaction had quite taken
him by surprise. Cold moonlight played along the edges of his eerily carved
weapon, but now that I had at least some freedom of action I wasn't as easily
unnerved anymore. Keeping a firm grip on his wrist, I started to squeeze my hand
shut, sincerely hoping I would shatter a few bones. My creepy visitor uttered a
hissing noise, and suddenly he pulled away, his wrist seemingly turning to
smoke. There was a rushing sound, the hat and the coat dropped onto the floor,
and the dagger fell onto my heaving chest.
And
then the ultimate cliché: I woke up. There was no dagger, there was no coat,
there was no hat, there was simply no trace of the dark figure from my
nightmare. Except for one thing: the door to my chamber stood open exactly as
far as the hissing man had opened it.
My
head still hurt like hell and I felt far from rested. Somehow I knew I wasn't
going to enjoy my stay in Quendor this time.