Chapter 090: Rescue And Loss

 

"Well life has a funny way of sneaking up on you

When you think everything's okay and everything's going right"

 

Ironic - Alanis Morissette

 

 

The crowd had arrived early that sunny Friday morning. By the looks of it, some people had even spent the night at the foot of the broad steps leading up to the City Hall, determined to claim the best possible spot from which to witness what had been billed as "the Wedding of the Century". When Miss Fabre and I made our disguised appearance, the mass must have already numbered in the thousands, yet fortunately tickets had been obtained to give us access to the more restricted area on the steps themselves destined for people of a higher standing who could actually afford the outrageous fees. We had tried to dress the part, me in a stiff suit and tie, her in a lady's suit that was just a bit too old-fashioned to be really her, complete with purse and fitting wide hat. Miss Fabre's distinguishing long black hair had been plaited and put up so that it would remain hidden by her hat, and with my newly learned skills I had applied some make-up to give her the features of the kind of upper class frump that her clothes suggested her to be. I had also altered my own appearance a tad by adding a few facial wrinkles and a touch of grey to the temples. Old money turning up for the big event.

 

Naturally, there was already some police about, but we knew the main body of guards would be accompanying the happy couple the entire way from the palace. All around us people were excited and happy, and I tried to keep my face in a similar, permanent rictus of joy to keep from sticking out in this crowd. Their tense anticipation merged well enough with mine, though.

 

We didn't talk as we waited. There was nothing to say that was not superfluous at this point. All had been planned, now we could only hope that nothing would go wrong. This was really a one-off, however, for there had been no chance of putting our scheme to the test and we knew there would be little chance of getting a second shot at it, should we fail. If there were any unforseen changes or fatal flaws, we would learn about them faster than we'd like.

 

The half hour we spent in anticipation of the arrival of our target dragged on and on, but finally the murmurs began to turn into cheers and shouts as the first ranks of the special Thaumacorps guard marched onto the square in front of the City Hall. Their manoeuvres were perfectly executed, yet we knew their function to be decidedly more than just ceremonial. However, as they took their places on either side of the red carpet leading up the stairs, Miss Fabre nodded at one whose position was but a few metres away from ours. This was the guy she'd picked up two nights before, the weak link in their chain of defense, who would provide us with our entrance.

 

Quickly, but carefully we inched our way through the crowd, sometimes clearing a path with a deep and meaningful look into someone's annoyed eyes, till we reached the steel barrier that was meant to keep the crowds at bay. We were now within touching distance of our man, and just in time too, for we could see the four horses draw the opulently gilded carriage onto the square, halting at the foot of the stairs.

 

A temporary hush ensued, followed by a cheer of excitement as Lucius, the Thaumos himself, emerged from the carriage dressed in a black gala uniform, trimmed with gold and complete with a ceremonial plumed helmet. He smiled at the people and walked round the coach to assist his bride as she alighted from her side. Fiona, or rather Eugenie, wore a magnificent lilac gown that actually would have suited her for her real wedding, if it would ever come to that. Three or four small bridesmaidens in matching little dresses helped her with her train as the bride turned and waved to the crowd in an utter state of ecstasy. Truly, I had never seen her look happier than at that particular moment. It was a shame that we would have to shatter her dream.

 

The bride and groom were slow in ascending the stairs, and I muttered a curse under my breath. I didn't know where Andria was, but I hoped she wouldn't give the signal too soon. Seconds ticked away, the people laughed and cheered, Fiona waved, and Lucius smiled. Suddenly there it was: just a small dot over the high-rise office buildings at the other side of the square, but quickly growing bigger. Patrick had done his end, now Andria would take it from here. There was barely enough time for me to alert Miss Fabre, as the missile shot down under an impossibly steep angle towards its intended target. I thought I heard a few surprised gasps and shouts from some people in the crowd who had also spotted the movement, but the guards had no chance to react before the carriage exploded in a fiery blaze.

 

Immediately I reached over the barrier, grabbing the guard's shoulder and pulling him towards me. His ear to my mouth, I spoke but one word, Amber, and he slumped forward. Good, Miss Fabre's little conditioning trick had worked. I didn't hesitate but scrambled over the barrier and started running towards Fiona, Janice in tow. Aunt Fi was looking around in tearful bewilderment, but although there were only a couple of metres between us, I saw that she unfortunately still held on to the groom's hand. Lucius was staring at the flaming wreckage of his coach, but it would be a matter of seconds before he would become aware of us.

 

Quickly I contemplated my gun and dismissed it as something that would draw too much attention. Instead I drew one of the throwing knives I'd been practising with during the last few days, briefly took aim and let it fly at the Thaumos's head. Harmlessly it bounced off his invisible magic shield, however. Damn. Closing the final gap between us and with but little options open to me, I raised my fist and brought it down hard on their clasped hands, thus breaking their contact. Triumphantly, I drew back once more and just as Lucius was turning towards me I hit him squarely on the jaw, sending him flying backwards down the stairs. That had been just about the only form of attack he had not been prepared for.

 

There was shouting and panic all around us, but I could also make out some barked orders, indicating that the guards had apparently picked up on our rebel presence in their midst. Time to leave. With one hand I grabbed Fiona's arm, in the other I had the Trump of Ygg. Miss Fabre was right beside me as I started concentrating on the image, trying to force my way past the Spire's interference. Beyond the edge of the card I saw a guard grab his knife, aim , and throw it at me. It arced its way through the air and would have gone straight for my head, but at the last possible moment there were only rainbow swirls and then we stood at the base of the big tree.

 

Taking a few deep breaths, I decided first to check on how we were doing. Luckily, none of us appeared to have been injured in any way, although Fiona was in quite a state of panic. Tears streaking down her face, she kept on babbling things like: "What's happening? What's going on? My wedding…?" One of the reasons why I had not tried to Trump us straight to Amber was of course discretion for her sake, but unfortunately Ygg had also a tendency to talk to anyone who came by, so we had to shift a few Shadows further on before we could truly stop and consider what to do with her. It was good after being powerless for a few days to feel the familiar lines of the Pattern once again. Fiona didn't make things any easier for us, though. She didn't take very kindly to me, especially after I had tore off her train to make better speed, and she kept hammering her fists on my chest, demanding me to stop and calling for help. It was a good thing that her natural Amberite strength did not nearly match my own. Also, her current state apparently restricted her from using her own abilities, for while I sensed her subconsciously reaching out for the Pattern, she proved unable to manipulate its energies in any way.

 

Finally, I located a suitable spot well away from any watchful eyes. Happy with how this first part of our rescue attempt had succeeded, I thought it would be pushing our luck if we were to try and restore Fiona to her former self right away. It seemed likely that whatever Aurelia had done to her would take quite an effort to be undone; it would undoubtedly require a fair amount of study and preparation. Meanwhile, however, we would need some safe place where Fi would stay put.

 

While Janice minded my captive aunt, I snipped a little of the local Shadow stuff and molded it into a pocket. A simple bedroom would suffice for now. I opened the door and forced the still crying Fiona inside, all but putting the pocket's timeflow on a standstill. There, we would be able to keep her in storage like this for much longer than we would ever need to.

 

I exchanged a strained smile of success with Miss Fabre and inquired as to her next intentions. I realised she would want to return to Quendor sooner or later, but I hinted that I would appreciate her presence for my report to Random and possibly even more for my upcoming attempts to cure Fiona. I was glad when she agreed to come along to Amber without too much persuasion on my part. She simply stated that while a free and independent Quendor remained her ultimate goal, the means towards this end were still undecided, and perhaps Amber would prove to be of some help.

 

This decided, I trumped Random, eager to come home with some good news for a change. He accepted the contact, but immediately I could tell I was not calling at an opportune time. Apparently, he was in the middle of some kind of meeting with several other people, the only one of whom I could glimpse through the contact being Julian. Subvocally the King addressed me and asked me for news about his sister. I quickly brought him up to date, and he did indeed seem happy enough with what I told him, although my use of the term "in storage" made him frown a little. When I suggested I'd first return to Amber for a full report, however, he told me to use the regular Trump of the Great Hall, saying that he would like to bring me through himself but that he had some company. With that he glanced around the room, allowing me a brief glimpse of its other occupants: Julian and Vialle on either side of him, and Galoran, Myrthe, and Alexander at the other end of the table. Okay, I could see the importance of not letting one of the other Major Powers learn about Fiona's current predicament straight away.

 

The Amber guards acted rather surprised when Janice and I appeared in the Great Hall, but I realised we were both still wearing our disguises. Luckily, one of the guards, Janos, remembered me from the party I had thrown way back when, and kept the others from accidentally locking us up in chains. They couldn't keep from staring, though, as I led Janice out in the direction of the guest wing. Even though the skirt she was currently wearing was slightly longer than the ones she usually wore, it was far shorter than anything ever worn in Amber, and I must admit her legs were well worth staring at.

 

Arrangements for a guest room and a replacement wardrobe for Miss Fabre were easily made. Giving her some time to get used to her new surroundings, I retired to my own chambers for a shower, shave, and change of clothes. The vial of liquid Caine had given me helped to wash the unnatural black out of my hair. Studying my face in the mirror, I reflected on its shortness, though. For a moment I considered weaving an illusion of its former length and taking the final step in making it self-sustained and permanent, but again I decided against it. My vanity was still not strong enough to overcome my uneasiness about altering my form this way. No, nature would just have to do her job.

 

I had just put on a clean pair of pants and a shirt, when I got a Trump call. Figuring it to be Random, I accepted, to be surprised by Adrian's serious countenance.

 

"Hello Dorian," he said. There was a sad and weary tone to his voice, though different from the last time I'd seen him. Something had changed, a page had been turned, and I could tell it hadn't been for the good.

 

"Adrian," I nodded warily, "what's up?"

 

"Not Adrian," he said. "Not entirely. Or rather, entirely not." Just a brief moment of hesitation there, as if he wasn't yet completely sure of this himself.

 

"I don't understand," I replied, frowning slightly. All the sensations I was getting would indicate that he really was Adrian, whatever else he claimed, so what was he playing at?

 

"I'd rather not explain it this way." He indicated the card. Hmm, alright, it was perhaps not the safest way, and face to face was always just that little bit more personal than the Trumps. Besides, I guessed I could spare a few moments away from Amber.

 

At the other end of the contact I found myself in Sherwyn once again, which wasn't all that surprising. What was surprising was the change in the air, though it was different from what I might have expected. Something of its former dark mood seemed to have been lifted. I shot a questioning glance at Adrian as he poured me a stiff drink. His news must be very bad if he thought I needed something as strong as that, which was strange considering the obvious way in which conditions in Sherwyn appeared to have been improved. Adrian wouldn't meet my gaze, however, until we had both sat down. Then, in a calm, yet sad voice, he began his tale.

 

"I know this must be very strange for you," he said, "but the plain truth is that Adrian is dead." The word came out almost casually, making me think that I'd misheard it. My disbelief must have registered right away, and he silenced my questions with one quick gesture. "I know…," he began, then shook his head, as if to clear it. "Part of me is Adrian. Some of his memories have become my own, even though I never experienced those events myself. You could say I'm a copy of him who has begun to lead a life on his own. How this has come to pass, I don't know, but I think it was because of the Curse. That was the first moment when I really started living and thinking independently."

 

There was a calm certainty in his manner that came from weariness and resignation, and perhaps it was this that really started to drive the point home for me, slowly but surely. It was all very bewildering, though: Adrian was no more, yet he was sitting here right in front of me. Something had occurred here that had brought on this unalterable state of affairs. I found myself unable to speak, yet silently I pleaded with him to explain to me how he could be dead and still be living at the same time.

 

"I travelled to Sherwyn," he continued, "and took on the leadership of the local resistance, who were without their leader at that time. We staged an assault on the castle and made our way inside, where it finally came down to a confrontation between me and him. Corwin was there as well, and the three of us agreed that something had to be done to change the state of affairs. In the end, Adrian took the entire burden of the Curse onto himself, thus sacrificing his life." Even though he didn't say so, I could tell this… this other Adrian would have gladly given his own life instead. This should not have been surprising considering that he had said he was Adrian's double. Their kinship must have been even closer than that between brothers, and his current grief seemed to reflect this. He was well beyond the first shock, however, while I was still trying to cope with it all.

 

"I know he told you about the Curse," he said. "I also know… Like I said, some of his memories are mine now. They were passed on to me during the final ritual. I remember when he told you about the Curse, as well as the special gift you gave him in return."

 

No. This was too much for me to take in at once. "Adrian is dead?" I asked softly. Repeat, slowly. Give me a chance to get to grips with this new reality. He nodded sadly. "And you are not Adrian?" All my senses screamed at me that he was, but he seemed quite convincing in his assertions that he wasn't. And why else would he tell me such a story?

 

"Part of me is, part of me is not." He sighed. "We started out the same, and a large part of the person he was now resides in me."

 

Still reeling, I took the glass he'd offered and gulped half of it down. Strong stuff indeed, but he had been right in assuming that I would need it.

"You're one of the first I've told about this," the man who was not my cousin continued. "I felt you ought to know."

 

"So you know what was…," I stammered, my voice cracking. "Yes, I suppose you would… He came to me for help that time, and I promised him I would. And now it's too late." Too late, for I had been too busy with other matters: Quendor, the Enemy, Fiona. All very important, but they seemed to fade compared to the life of my cousin, my friend. When it had really come down to it, I had not been there for him.

 

"What happened between the two of you at that moment, the thing you gave him, it temporarily turned him back into the person he longed to be. It was his last brief moment of happiness, yet it was very painful too. This," he gestured around him to the world in general, "was the only way he could think of to attone for his sins."

 

I realised he was trying to offer me at least some degree of consolation, but much like the cup of blood I'd offered to Adrian it left a bitter taste. I didn't know what to say. There was nothing I could say. Silently, sadly, I drained the glass and allowed this all too familiar stranger to refill it.

 

"I don't want anyone to feel guilty about what happened," he quietly insisted. Comforting words, but the guilt was still there, and if he really remembered my last conversation with Adrian, he knew it was justified too. The way he continued to register at every level as being Adrian was very

unnerving, though.

 

"You keep saying you're not my cousin Adrian," I said. "But what am I to call you?"

 

"My name is Justin." Alright, that helped, putting a new name to this familiar face. Just a tiny bit, but it helped all the same.

 

"And what will happen now?" I asked

 

"I'm not entirely sure yet. I want to try and help solve certain things, but not in the same way as Adrian has done here in Sherwyn. I shall, of course, support the Kingdom, but I don't think I shall take the crown again."

 

That wasn't what I had wanted to know, but the politics of the situation helped to create a bit more distance. I needed to deal with this on my own, I felt. Justin just reminded me too much of Adrian for me to be able to come to grips with the concept of his death.

 

"I hope," he said softly, as I rose to leave, "that we'll be able to form just as good a friendship as the one between him and you. But I guess that will take time. I just hope you'll give me a chance."

 

A hand, gingerly held out halfway across the gap between us. I met and held his gaze for the last time, and then nodded. Yes, I would try. And perhaps a new friendship with Justin would give me some chance of redeeming myself. In time, perhaps.

 

Before I left, Justin told me that they would shortly organise a funeral for Adrian, which was to be low-key, involving as little politics and protocol as possible. I promised that I would certainly be there.

 

Back in Amber, totally oblivious to my surroundings, I returned to my room and opened a bottle from my personal stock. Anything to dull the pain of loss. There seemed little use in other things.

 

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