Chapter 098: Prisoner 538

"Six by six from wall to wall

Shutters on the windows, no light at all

Damp on the floor, you got damp in the bed

They're trying to get you crazy, get you out of your head

They feed you scraps and they feed you lies

To lower your defences, no compromise

Nothing you can do, the day can be long

Your mind is working overtime, your body's not too strong"

Wallflower - Peter Gabriel

            Ayland was everyone's dream, I guess. Sheltered by two minor mountain ranges that would eventually meet near Mount Kolvir, the valley was nevertheless quite wide and spacious. Since it was situated on the one side of Amber that had somehow always been spared from the ravages of war, the people of Ayland had developed a sort of good-natured stoicism that helped them deal with any problems that might come their way. These were more likely to be natural occurrences like heavy rainfall, wind, or possibly drought, than any kind of human interference, so for the most part they lived quiet, happy lives.

            Ayland was everyone's dream, but I couldn't say it had been mine. Oh, it was as nice a piece of real estate as you could find within the Golden Circle, but I'd never asked for a ducal title, and I'd never really considered settling down in the country either. Not yet, in any case. Fortunately, two things had helped me get out of this situation without things going completely awry. First of all, the people of Ayland, having known a great number of Dukes and Duchesses in their time (their county being a popular prize and everything), had got into the habit of quietly ignoring their rulers and getting on with their own business, thus making the county run almost by itself. And secondly, there had been Aliane.

            Bright and cheerful Aliane Durovir had always been the most enthusiastic planner when we were young, and nearly all of our most daring or harebrained schemes had sprung from her mind. As she grew up, however, she began to suffer more and more under the restraints that class and gender placed on her. From the position and behaviour of my aunts and various other female relatives one might be led to believe that sexual equality is quite the norm in Amber, but sadly this is as far removed from the truth as is possible. Save from the Royal Family, Amberite society is still very much a traditional patriarchy, perhaps due to the age-old example set by King Oberon. What this boiled down to for someone like Aliane was that she was simply expected to be obedient, to look pretty and to marry some rich or powerful friend of her father's, for whom she was to bear lots of children.

            Needless to say Ali had had some other ideas on the subject, but she had been in no position to alter her fate, until quite by accident I had run into her and our other childhood friend Koras while on my way to survey my new Duchy. A number of things had passed between the three of us that day, but the main result was that I'd made a deal with Ali, giving her the official position of Steward of Ayland, which would allow her to rule in my absence. In other words, she would see to it that my Duchy was run properly, to the extent that I really didn't have to concern myself with it, and in return she would hold a position of some power and, most importantly, she would have a place of her own. She had still had to get married, though, to one Martus of Klist, whom we had all detested with a vengeance when we were young, but who had been quite a favourite of Ali's father. I'd even heard that she had borne him a first son and heir, but rumour had it there wouldn't be any more children forthcoming. From what I'd heard, Ali was mainly staying in Ayland, well away from her dearest husband, and for the moment she appeared to be raising their child by herself.

Janice and I arrived quite unannounced, blinking into existence in a burst of Pattern energy right in front of the mansion as we did, but one of the house servants was quick to alert his mistress and a few minutes later Aliane arrived on the scene to greet us properly. I briefly introduced her and Janice to one another, after which Ali first proceeded with an official report on the situation in my domain, which she seemed to have had ready for just such a sudden visit. To summarise: everything was going well. The harvest had been bountiful, as usual, and it appeared to have been rather a good year for both the wine and the local beer. The former was quite good, but it couldn't compete with a better-known vintages like Bayle's. The beer, however, was gradually building quite a reputation for itself, and it seemed that several shipments to merchants in Amber had been exported to other kingdoms in and around the Golden Circle. Ali hinted that with my connections it could even be possible to set up some lucrative trade relations with more remote areas, perhaps even with some other Major Powers, but I indicated that trade wasn't something I would be taking up as a hobby anytime soon. It just didn't interest me all that much, and there seemed to be a million things that were better suited to fill my time with. I made it plain, however, that I was quite pleased with her job so far, and that I hoped she would continue for as long as she was able to do so. Her beaming smile was all the answer I needed.

            When Ali and I were alone, Janice having excused herself for a moment, she couldn't help but inquire not-all-too-subtly and with a mischievous grin whether this lady was my new girlfriend.

            "Not really," I said with a slight frown, but unfortunately Ali jumped right to the wrong conclusion.

            "Ah, she's a member of your staff," she said.

            "No, no, no," I said urgently. "Please, don't ever make the mistake of thinking of her as being in my employ. She's quite sensitive about that sort of thing. I guess you could say she's an associate."

            "Oh," she said, showing little comprehension.

            "The country where she's from is in one of those modern democratic Shadows," I explained, registering immediately that the concept of democracy appeared to mean very little to her. "They've still got some of the aristocracy left," I added, "but not all that much. In their society people exist more on an equal social level with one another."

            Aliane shrugged, though I could tell the idea of such a society was intriguing to her. "So, girlfriend it is," was her simple conclusion.

            "I guess so," I sighed, "but not girlfriend as in 'girlfriend', you know what I mean?"

            "You're still not seeing anyone, romantically I mean, are you?" she said in a slightly disapproving tone.

            "No, not really," I admitted. "Kids aplenty by now, but no one steady, no."

            "It's a good thing King Oberon isn't alive to see it," Ali said, only half-jokingly. "Seriously though, doesn't anyone in your Family object to you fathering bastards all over the place?"

            "They have never done so up till now. At least, not to my face."

            "I'll bet they've done so plenty of times when your back is turned," she smirked.

            "Possibly," I conceded rather reluctantly. Truth was that I hadn't even realised that people might object to my children save on the grounds that there were so many of them. I guess that especially for some of my aunts and uncles the question of whether children were legitimate or not was one they took quite seriously, even though the current situation with Random on the Throne, being Oberon's youngest son, and him having renounced any succession claims by his direct descendants had thrown the whole issue wide open. It was just something I didn't concern myself with all that much, knowing my position in the Family hierarchy to be such that it was less than even remotely likely that I would ever sit on the Throne of Amber. And besides, I didn't favour any of my children over the others, and I didn't see why some dated system of feudal strictures should make any difference.

            When Janice had returned, I started explaining to Aliane that she and I would be staying in Ayland for a while to work on some unspecified magical project, since the location would allow us to work in peace and quiet. She told me that there was one wing of the mansion (which was actually more of a small castle, come to think of it) which was currently not in use. Naturally, these were not the best chambers, Ali having taken those for herself, but there was more than enough room for anything we might have planned. She would only have to have the servants do a bit of dusting and cleaning before we could move in. After she had given the orders, I explained furthermore that we were not to be disturbed while we were busy there, whereupon she proposed to close off the whole wing entirely. That sounded like a good idea, but it left us the question of what we were going to do for dinners and other regular meals, a question all the more poignant because our messing with the Pocket Shadow's time stream could well result in very irregular schedules for the both of us. In the end we agreed that we would notify Ali or her staff well in advance should we ever want to have some places set for us at dinner. We decided to dine with Aliane that evening anyway, giving the staff some extra time to prepare our rooms, since they wouldn't have any opportunities to clean in there while we were at it.

            As Aliane left us to see to some further arrangements concerning our stay, I tried to explain to Janice where it was that we were, exactly. As I had expected she was less than understanding about the arrangement.

            "So, everyone gets some piece of land for their eighteenth birthday, is that it?" she asked in a tone of strong disapproval.

            "Something like that, yes. Not that I really wanted it this way, but people were quite insistent."

            "Well, I have to say it's a rather quaint little village down there," she conceded with a shrug and a nod towards the open window. "And this castle is not half bad either. Do you spend much time here?"

            "No, not really. Which is why it seemed like a good place to set up camp for now. Things are really quiet, and as far as I know nobody ever comes here, except for the local people of course. And if you don't bother them, they won't bother you. Frankly, the Duchy has a way of running itself without any direct involvement from me."

            "So, basically the Duke is never at home, is he?"

            "Oh well, you know, I have the impression that most of the local people are hardly aware that they have a Duke at all." And I didn't mind keeping it that way either.

            Dinner that evening was quite cosy and pleasant, with just the three of us. Aliane told me that Ayland was rather secluded from its immediate neighbours. Because of this, she hardly got any visits from other Lords and Ladies, which suited her just fine since it left her more time to dote on her son. He was a lovely baby boy, and I was pleasantly surprised at how well motherhood appeared to suit my friend. After she had put the baby to bed, we ended up reminiscing a little over a glass of wine, and it was rather later than I had anticipated before Janice and I bade Ali goodnight and retired to our chambers. One more night of sleep and then we finally would be able to get truly started on our project.

**

            She was still crying on the bed in the otherwise bare room when they came suddenly marching in through the door. There were six of them, she registered through her tears, ominously clad in black police uniforms, their faces far from friendly. Four of them came purposefully towards her, making her cringe back in fear. One of the two hanging back near the door, the only woman among them, began to intone something alonng the lines of her being officially under arrest in the name of the People's Republic of Quendor for acts of terrorism and subversion against the State. A further elaboration or explanation was not forthcoming, though.

            "But why?" she cried fearfully. "I haven't done anything! What has happened? And where is Lucius?"

            They didn't answer her. They didn't even appear to acknowledge the fact that she'd spoken. Frantically she tried to crawl away from their reaching hands, but there was nowhere to hide. Strong hands grabbed at what remained of her once splendid wedding gown. Cold and menacing faces loomed nearer. Her eyes darting across the room fixed on the officer standing silently near the door, just as the foul-smelling wad of cloth was forcefully pressed over her nose and mouth. She felt her limbs failing her almost immediately, and the last thing she recalled thinking before she lost consciousness was that she had seen that stern face with its short black hair and neatly trimmed black moustache somewhere before.

            There was no telling how much time had passed when she finally came to. Blearily blinking against the cold and harsh neon lights, she sat up and slowly surveyed her new surroundings. Having never been inside a prison cell before, she was startled and not a little panicked by the stark, bare concrete and steel of her new surroundings. She made a brief, whimpering sound, like that of a frightened animal, and huddled on the hard steel bunk. It failed to give her any comfort. As she shivered, she realised that she was no longer wearing the remains of her wonderful dress, but instead she had been outfitted with a small and ill-fitting prison shift. The blandly grey coarse fabric irritated the all-too small areas of her skin which it covered, and she knew it wouldn't do anything to keep her warm. Softly, silently, she started to cry once more. As before, however, there was no one to pay any heed.

            Cold and miserable as she was, she finally fell asleep, only to awake from a rattling at the door to her cell. A small hatch at the bottom was opened, and a bowl and a small cup were quickly pushed inside before it closed again. Faintly she could hear the sound of footsteps walking away, then silence once more. Upon inspection the cup turned out to be half-full of water, while the bowl contained some horribly grey porridge-like substance. It was cold too, and when she tasted it she found that it wasn't so much sharply disgusting as she had expected it to be, but more bland and grey and rather devoid of any taste at all, as if someone had managed to carve up boredom and had ground it into this mush. The thick, tasteless pulp made her gag, and since she wasn't feeling very hungry yet she left most of it in its bowl. She gratefully drank the water, though.

            Time passed, although it was impossible to say how much. No one came for her, and even though she tried calling out a few times, silence was her only answer. Occasionally she cried silently to herself, occasionally she slept, and once she even started banging on the thick, steel door. All in vain. Finally, she heard the faint sound of footsteps coming closer, until they stopped right in front of her door. Again she called out, rather desperately by now, but the person on the other side did nothing to indicate that he was aware of her pleas. Instead the small hatch was opened once again and a hand quickly reached inside for the still nearly full bowl of sludge and the now empty cup. Failing to find the latter, since she had left it on her bunk, the hand fruitlessly scrabbled around for a few seconds before disappearing again. A new, slightly fuller bowl of the same horrible mush was pushed back inside and with a dry metallic click the hatch was closed.

            For a few moments she stared at the bowl in bewilderment, but when she realised the footfalls were once more withdrawing her shouts and pleas recommenced, gaining in volume and pitch until she collapsed in a miserable heap on the floor.

            Hours passed and no one came. Ultimately, hunger got the better of her and she ate a little of the bland grey stuff. She found she could not stomach the entire bowl, however, which may have been for the best. There was no telling when the unseen guard would return with new rations.

            Quietly I was watching the glowing sphere that showed me the interior view of the prison cell, when Janice returned with a tray with food. We were taking turns with our trips to the kitchens, where most of the time the cook would leave some things lying about for us, having quickly realised that we might show up at the most unexpected and inconvenient of hours. For the moment the Shadow pocket was in slow motion once again, giving us more than enough time to have a quiet meal. Although this part of the scenario required very little direct input from either of us, I was reluctant to speed up time in the pocket beyond a one-on-one rate with local Amber time, for I simply didn't want to risk any minor influence Fiona might have on the pocket rapidly developing into major problems. Only when Janice and I were both inside the pocket would I risk applying a slight degree of fast forward, but since we were mostly still only monitoring events from the outside, things were going rather slowly. We would do this as carefully as possible, even if it meant days, or possibly weeks, of extra work.

            "Everything seems to be going to plan," Janice remarked, and I grunted a reply. Part of me couldn't help but wonder how long our good fortune would hold out. She glanced at the black uniform I was still wearing from my brief part as the prison guard delivering the meals and tapped the little round black, red, and white emblem on my upper arm. "You never told me where you got this from," she said. "Is it significant in any way?" With a wry grin I briefly explained to her the meaning of the two crossed hammers, something lifted from my earlier, happier period living on Shadow Earth. "Hmm," she mused, "a rock group, eh? I just hope for your sake that she hasn't seen it before."

            "Doesn't seem likely," I muttered, taking another bite from my sandwich. Somehow I couldn't imagine aunt Fi listening to things like Pink Floyd.

            I had more than one uniform, actually, since the various roles I had designed all differed a little in height and built, which was something more easily expressed in varying cuts and sizes of costumes. Janice only had one outfit, all in black too, with the kind of tight, short skirt that she quite favoured. She had only one active part in the scenario, that of the female assistant to the commander, while I would be playing all the other parts when necessary, using woven illusions for the guards who didn't need to be in direct contact with the prisoner. I had fleshed out five or six guards, although in truth they only differed very little from one another, adding to the prisoner's sense of having to confront a nameless, faceless establishment. Only the commander was slightly more pronounced, for I had carefully modelled him after the disguise I had used when rescuing Fiona in Quendor. I felt sure she would remember his face.

            We had briefly discussed the possibility of Janice taking on several roles, but I had insisted on an overwhelming majority of the guards being male, arguing that they would be more intimidating than female guards, at least from Eugenie Lablanche's point of view. Janice had grudgingly granted me this point, and when we had discussed it further she had ultimately reconsidered and had decided to stick to just the one part. The thing that clinched it for her was the safety aspect: if at any time something were to go wrong with me while I was inside the simulation, she needed to have her hands free to act immediately. And, as she added with a wicked smile, she always felt more comfortable working in the background. Many times she would still accompany me inside the pocket, though, for I required her special empathic abilities to heighten our prisoner's sense of realism. Eugenie Lablanche might not be able to see through the elaborate illusion we'd woven for her, but the as yet hidden Fiona persona was another matter, so Janice's ability to evoke and increase emotions would help us to keep her from looking behind the mask until the time was right.

            We quietly finished our meal and I sighed. Although there wasn't much for us to do, I realised I was quite tired, perhaps just from the strain of the continual pressure we were working under.

            "Do you want to take a longer break before we continue?" Janice asked.

            I thought for a moment, then I nodded. "We might as well," I said. "Just because we want Eugenie to be completely worn out doesn't mean that we have to suffer the same fate. I'll put the thing on hold, so that we both can have a few hours of sleep." I glanced at the softly glowing spying-sphere once more. "Tomorrow we'll really start giving her hell."

            Time lost all meaning in that cold and cheerless cell. The absence of windows and the relentless neon light made it impossible to tell day from night. The irregularity of her meals didn't help either. It seemed strange, for in such a prison as where she appeared to be one would expect a strict daily schedule, but her shifting feelings of hunger and thirst convinced her the guards weren't making regular rounds. She had quickly learned to leave both cup and bowl near the door at all time, since otherwise her supply wouldn't be replenished. Nevertheless, the periods in between visits from the guards were at times so long that hunger was becoming a problem. As a result she now always emptied her bowls, although the food remained as unappetising as before.

            Once she tried to touch and perhaps even grab the guard's hand as he reached for her bowl, a somewhat desperate attempt at human contact, but he withdrew more quickly than she would have thought possible. The fact that no new food or water was left that time and that the period until the guard's next visit seemed even longer than before made sure she refrained from any similar attempts.

            With a start she woke up. Darkness, unfamiliar and frightening after all this time, was all around her. Wide-eyed she waited, but nothing much happened. A few minutes later the lights came on again, seemingly brighter than before, and a little bit later they were switched off again. She tried to count to keep track of time, as she had also done before, but with the same lack of success. Whoever it was that had imprisoned her here appeared intent on driving her completely crazy. The apparently random spells of light and dark made it nearly impossible for her to doze off, at least until she succumbed to her exhaustion.

            The next time she woke the guard had just left her next meal. That's when she started hearing the screams. They were faint at first, perhaps nothing more than a figment of her imagination, but soon they appeared to grow louder. There weren't any words that she could make out, just the general sounds of anguish and pain. Although this was the first sign that she wasn't the only prisoner in this complex, the wails and shrieks did little to cheer her up. Soon she was crying out herself, banging on the door again, pleading for the noise to stop. The screams did stop, eventually, but they went on far longer than her own pleas. She knew they would return. She feared they would.

            There were more, different forms of aural and visual torture ahead of her: longer periods of darkness, deafening sirens, different colours of light turning her cell into a swirling, hallucinogenic kaleidoscope, incessant and unintelligible whispers. Anything to keep her on her toes, to keep her from being able to relax. Finally, she reached a point where nothing seemed to matter anymore. She would fall asleep due to simple exhaustion, no matter what forms of light or sound were plaguing her.

            That was the moment when they came for her.

            It was late one evening when I finally decided to inform Random of our whereabouts. Perhaps I needed something, I don't know, some reassurance maybe. The first stage had gone as planned, yet still I had the uneasy feeling that something might go wrong at any moment. Janice was as helpful and supportive as she could be, but I sensed that her misgivings still

lingered too.

            Random wasn't big on reassurance either, though, as I should have expected. Maybe it was simply the lateness of the hour, but I got the impression that he looked a tad more troubled and weary than usual. He blinked, then nodded slowly, when I told him where we were. For a second he looked like he was about to mention something, some piece of news perhaps, but no words passed his lips. I shrugged off my curiosity quite easily, knowing that any new developments would have to wait anyway until we had seen our current project through to its conclusion. If it was really urgent, Random would have told me, I decided. Since he hadn't, it was probably something that I would only fret about and that would distract me too much.

            After I had closed the brief contact, I reflected that sometime while we had been busy there had been a sensation of someone trying to raise me by Trump, but it had faded after I had continued to ignore it. Now, near the midnight hour, with a glass of pretty decent Ayland wine at my disposal, I couldn't help but wonder who it might have been. And for what reason. Perhaps I should have asked Random after all.