Oh, yeah, you're a charming one, aren't you? You see my journal, and you think it's totally your business to read it. I'll bet you're as big a pain in the ass as those stupid girls at school who all hide their diaries in their underwear drawers and then wonder why everyone knows where to look for them.
And people wonder why I keep a knife in my underwear drawer.
Today started out like a normal Friday. Pointless pop quizzes, a guest lecturer on the evils of drugs (in my math class, of all things. Whose brilliant idea was that?) and a sort of OK archery practice. Carmella came to pick me up for the weekend, and I managed to talk her into stopping for ice cream on the way back to Flora's. Score!
Things got really interesting after dinner. I was avoiding Flora by feigning too much homework and playing my music real loud so she wouldn't come near my room, but I still heard the doorbell. I snuck out into the hall in time to see Carmella let this guy in. At first I thought it was Eric with his beard shaved off, but he introduced himself as my Uncle Carl. Since when do I have an Uncle Carl? I told him I'd thought he was dead. Then we went up to the library and Flora sent me away, but I hung out in the hall and listened in through the keyhole while they were in there talking. I couldn't make much out, but Flora sounded kind of upset. Not that that's a bad thing, mind you.
I had to sneak back down to my room when she opened the door to call Carmella up, unfortunately, so I still don't know what the hell's going on. But this is the first time anyone claiming to be family has visited since I started school here five years ago, so something must be up.
I found Uncle Carl raiding the kitchen when I got up this morning. Flora was nowhere to be found. No complaints here.
Carl asked me a bunch of questions about what's been going on in Amber for the last few years. I have no clue, of course -- no one tells me anything. He was incredibly cagey when I tried to ask him stuff, though. For a minute there, I wondered if maybe he works for the CIA or something. He seems like an OK sort, though. I mean, he actually paid attention to what I was talking about, even when it wasn't about Amber.
By the time we'd finished our little chat, I knew he was really Corwin. As far as I know, this is the first time anyone has heard from him in years.
Flora didn't actually get home 'til evening. She seemed even more upset today than she had last night. She sent me away again so she could talk to Corwin. I was down in my room pretending to do homework when the doorbell rang. That's when things got really interesting.
It was Random.
He said he was being chased by some guys, and Flora panicked, of course. Random and Corwin got themselves armed, and Random told me to go to my room and lock the door. So I did.
Only I didn't actually stay in my room. That'd be boring. I grabbed my old fencing foil and went back to the living room.
Not that it mattered. Between Random, Corwin, and Flora's dogs, they dispatched the intruders in, like, a minute and a half. A couple of the dogs got killed, though, which was really upsetting -- even more upsetting than the intruders themselves, which... weren't human. They had these weird spurs on their hands, and they'd apparently been chasing Random through Shadow, which is just plain wrong and really spooky.
Flora told me to go to bed after that, but I told her I had as much right to know what was going on as she did -- I mean, hell, this is my family showing up out of the woodwork and getting attacked by other-dimensional beings -- so she gave up and she went to bed. Random and Corwin sat around drinking and smoking -- I bummed a smoke off Random, and he seemed to think it was kind of funny -- and talking about stuff, but Corwin was still being really cagey and so I still don't really know what's going on.
Then Corwin went to bed, too.
Random and I spent a little bit of time catching up before he went to clean up the mess in the living room. He seemed really interested in what kind of deal Dad made with Flora to get her to look after me. I have no idea, and it never really occurred to me to care before. Dad's a rat-bastard, Flora's irritating as all get-out, and I don't especially give a shit what they're cooking up. Still, if I can figure out the plan, maybe that'll give me some leverage in the future.
Sunday. Normally I'd spend the morning finishing up my homework and re-packing my bag so I could head back to school in the afternoon. Not today, though. I thought I'd really lucked out, but then everything went to hell.
Flora didn't come down to breakfast. Random told me he'd worked it out with her that I should go back to Amber with him and Corwin. I packed a bag, ready for a quick getaway.
In the afternoon, he announced he and Corwin were going for a drive, and I should come with them. So I grabbed my bag and we borrowed one of Flora's cars and took off.
Through Shadow.
I've never travelled that way before. The first time Flora and I came to her place in Westchester, we Trumped in. So I tried to pay a lot of attention to what Random was doing. He seemed to be in charge of the whole process, while Corwin drove. I only half listened to their conversation, which mostly amounted to Corwin being cagey again, but I think it had something to do with Eric and whether they're going to do anything about the fact that he seems to have decided to run Amber all by himself. Asshole.
We drove for a long time. Stopped for gas, stopped for food, stopped so Random could pop a cap in the ass of someone who insulted Corwin's driving. Corwin knocked Random's arm at the last minute, though, and kept him from doing the guy in.
We finally got to Arden in what seemed like the afternoon, although it felt like we'd been on the road a lot longer than that. I'd never really been in Arden before, and it was everything they say -- huge, green, primeval.
And Julian is just as big an asshole as ever. And apparently he's on Eric's side. Figures.
We heard the hunting-horns and the dogs before he caught up with us. He made like he was going to let us go, but then he started up the chase again. Random took out several of the dogs with his gun, and I felt kind of bad about that -- I mean, they're mean as all get-out, but they are still dogs -- but in the end Julian and the dogs and that damn horse of his had us cornered again.
Luck was on our side, though, for a few minutes, and Corwin managed to knock Julian off-balance by charging the horse with the car, and then Random got the gun to his head and made him get in the car. In the back seat. With me. Big fun.
That was enough to get us through the rest of Arden and partway over the mountain. I mean, none of Julian's men were going to mess with us if they thought we'd take him out.
But then dear Uncle Corwin went all brain-dead on us.
He stopped the car and made Julian get out, and started giving this dumb Mr. Nice Guy speech about how when all this was over, Julian should remember how Corwin was merciful to him, like he was gonna let him go or something. Seriously fucked up. So of course, what happens? Some bunch of Julian's men had of course followed us, gained the high ground, and unleashed a rain of arrows on us.
They hit Random.
Corwin didn't even try to save him. I was crouched down in the floor of the back seat of the car, you know, trying not to DIE, and Corwin hopped back in and gunned it and got the hell out of there, and just left Random behind. We don't even know whether he's still alive.
I plan to find out, though. Julian's gonna pay for this.
We drove in silence for a long time, 'til finally the car ran out of gas, and then we coasted for a long time, down the other side of the mountain, 'til we hit a level spot and couldn't go any farther.
And then Corwin fessed up.
He's got no memory. He doesn't know what's going on, he hardly even knows who he is. It sort of explains why he so stupidly let Julian go like that. I mean, you'd think he of all people would know never to trust people who hate you. Duh.
So we decided to head the rest of the way to Amber on foot, but to stay off the road.
It was pretty late when we came upon the camp. We heard it before we saw it -- four guards, Eric's men, talking around a campfire, and a woman tied up. Corwin had a sword, I armed myself with a big stick, and we jumped out and attacked. He killed two guards, I knocked one unconscious, and the last one ran away.
Conveniently, those dead soldiers meant that I and the prisoner -- Aunt Deirdre, it turned out -- could arm ourselves. It's a much better sword than what I use at school. Well-balanced. It's a piece of shit compared to Corwin's blade, though.
Deirdre is trying to escape Amber, which doesn't really mesh real well with Corwin's plan to get to Amber, but with his memory all screwed up we decided that sticking with Deirdre and going to Rebma would be our best bet. Actually, I had to fill Deirdre in on the whole memory loss thing while Corwin ducked behind a tree to take a leak. He wouldn't tell her himself.
It's like he's got the hots for her or something. Totally gross. She knows it, too. She must like him pretty well not to have kicked his ass for it.
So we're off to Rebma so Corwin can walk the Pattern and get his memory back, and Deirdre can walk the Pattern and escape into Shadow, far away from Amber.
And, if I play my cards right, I can walk the Pattern, too, and figure out how to get Random back.
We walked all night through the forest and made it to the beach right at daybreak. Unfortunately, we picked up some company.
Eric's men, on horses.
We were hoping the horses wouldn't follow us into the ocean -- I mean, walking under the water and breathing it in is pretty freaky, even if you know what to expect -- but they'd apparently been trained for it, because they came down the stairs after us.
Deirdre made it through the first arch and into the protection of the Rebman guards before the horsemen caught up with us, but Corwin and I weren't so lucky. They mostly ignored me and went for Corwin, but there was a kind of scary moment when I thought I might get knocked off the edge of the staircase and crushed by the mundane part of the ocean when one of the horses went by.
I managed to slip past, though, and got to a point further down the stairs while Corwin took care of the attacking horsemen. Damn, he's good. Eventually, there was enough of a pileup of injured horses blocking the remainder of Eric's men that we slipped down through the arch and were safe.
The guards led us down into Rebma proper, through the city, and straight to the Throne Room. I visited Rebma once when I was a kid, before Flora took me to Westchester -- I spent about a month with Aunt Llewella -- but I never met Moire and I never saw the Throne Room. Both were impressive, if you're into marble and/or green hair.
I could kind of see the resemblance between Llewella and Moire, but Moire is shorter and has rounder eyes.
Deirdre got permission for Corwin to take the Pattern, and Moire had servants show us to some rooms where we could rest and have some food in the few hours beforehand. She sent Corwin to a different room than Deirdre and me, which seemed a little odd.
Another odd thing was the blond kid we passed on the way out of the Throne Room -- odd because Rebmans aren't blond. He looked to be about my age.
So Deirdre and I got taken to these rooms, and we ate a little, but she wasn't talking much. So I asked if I could borrow her Trump of Random. At first she looked at me like I was crazy -- like, why would I want to talk to him, of all people -- but I explained about him getting, like, shot, and she handed over the card.
He's alive. He looks like hell, but he's alert and he's gonna be OK.
He's also not in Arden anymore. He's in Castle Amber, under Eric's supervision. Damn Eric.
Interestingly, when I offered to pull him through, he seemed to think he'd be safer staying where he was than coming to Rebma. When I asked him what was so bad about Rebma, he just said that he did something to piss off Moire a while back and wouldn't tell me what.
But more on that later.
In the end, we decided that I should check back with him in a couple days -- after I'd gotten out of Rebma.
We broke contact, and Deirdre took her Trump back. Bitch. It's not like she's gonna use it or anything. Still, I guess it is hers.
We still had some time before we were all supposed to get together for Corwin's Patternwalk, so I decided to wander around. Rebma's pretty cool.
I was checking out this really bitchin' fountain -- I mean, I guess any fountain that's underwater is pretty bitchin', but this one had an octopus living in it, which is, like, totally bonus -- when someone behind me said, "His name is Oberon."
It was the blond kid I saw when I was leaving Moire's throne room.
We got to talking. His name is Martin. He's Moire's grandson.
And Random's son.
That little shit never bothered mentioning he had a son.
And apparently Martin's about as fond of him as I am of my dad. No wonder, too -- apparently Random got Martin's mom pregnant and then just abandoned her, before Martin was even born. And then she killed herself. And Random never came back for Martin.
I tried to tell Martin that Random has always seemed like an OK guy to me -- a lot less of an asshole than my dad, certainly -- but I don't think he believed me, and I can kind of see why. Very upsetting.
So we talked a little more, and then Martin said, "My grandmother is going to seduce Corwin. Wanna watch?"
Is everybody in this family a fucking pervert?
But it's not like I had anything better to do.
Martin took me to another room in the palace. There was a big cabinet against one wall, and he went to it and pulled out a mirror -- a scrying mirror. He says he uses it all the time to spy on his grandmother, only he has to be careful about when, because if she's not distracted by what she's doing, she can tell she's being spied on.
He was counting on her being distracted.
I watched for a while. It was, in fact, pretty disgusting. Adults can be so weird. I didn't watch the whole thing, but Martin did. Then he turned the mirror over really quickly, because his grandmother looked up with that "who's spying on me?" look on her face.
He started asking me about places I've been. He's spent almost his whole life in Rebma, except for one summer when he went to stay with Uncle Benedict -- whom I've never met -- and learned to ride a horse and use a sword.
"A sword, huh?" I said. "So, you wanna spar?"
He looked at me like I was in way over my head. "You any good?" he asked.
"I'm undefeated," I said.
So we went to spar. I suggested that five touches or a disarm should win.
He's not bad, as it turns out -- in fact, he's by far the best opponent I've faced since leaving Amber -- but I'm still better. He's obviously a lot stronger than I am -- he'll be formidable in a few years, when he's grown into himself -- but I'm quicker, and a little more coordinated, and maybe not as easy to psyche out. I beat him five touches to two, even with the whole underwater disadvantage.
I don't know why, but I couldn't quite bring myself to rub his nose in it.
We still had a little time before Corwin's Patternwalk, so we went for a snack. We ate cookies and milk, and he asked me about New York. He really doesn't get out much -- he seemed completely fascinated by every word. We spent some time commiserating about how we never get to do anything cool, about what huge pains in the ass my aunt and his grandmother are -- and then we hatched a plan. A really, really good plan.
A plan to get the hell out of here and do whatever we want.
He came with me to Corwin's Patternwalk. We watched Corwin walk, and then Deirdre. We worked it so that as Deirdre was getting finished, we were standing near the start of the Pattern. As soon as Deirdre disappeared, Martin sprang forward and got his foot on the Pattern; then he took a step forward and I got on right behind him.
Moire was furious. Not that there was anything she could do about it, of course -- once you've stepped onto the Pattern, there's no going back.
Martin had hold of my hand, and I'm actually kind of glad. Some parts of the Pattern have a huge amount of resistance, and I'm not sure I would've made it through if I hadn't had someone stronger than me dragging me along.
The whole time, Moire was screaming at Martin about how much trouble he was going to be in, about how he'd better bring his ass right back to the start of the Pattern when he was done. Yeah, right. What are we, stupid?
We made it to the center, and I was so tired I could hardly stand up. Martin still had my hand. I closed my eyes, and when I opened them again, I wasn't in Rebma anymore. Martin had gotten us to the only other place he knew.
Avalon. To find Benedict.
So, there we were, standing on a hillside, soaking wet, holding hands, me in jeans and a black Nine Inch Nails t-shirt, Martin in a pair of scaled trunks and not much else. Sounds like the setup for a bad joke, doesn't it? Or the intro to one of those stupid-ass books those airheads at school read.
It took not more than a minute for someone to notice us. I guess we did sort of stand out. We explained to the guy that we'd come to visit our Uncle Benedict -- we sort of glossed over the part about where we'd come from or how we'd gotten there -- and he led us back to the main house to wait. A servant offered us some dry clothes and rooms where we could change. I threatened Martin with bodily harm if he spied on me, and he protested that he wouldn't even dream of such a thing, so vehemently that I knew he'd been thinking about it. Pervert.
The clothes the servant offered me were of the stupid variety. There must've been, like, five different layers, some of which probably go by names like "bloomers". I pared down the pile to the smallest collection of things that would cover me up and not interfere too much with basic tasks like walking and, y'know, breathing.
Martin fared a lot better than I did. He ended up with a normal pair of trousers, a plain white shirt, suspenders, and boots. And, yeah, maybe he had four layers of underwear on underneath it, but I sort of doubt it. He's not really the overdressing type. In fact, I'm guessing it's been a while since he wore long pants or shoes, if he ever has, because he asked me whether he was supposed to tuck the ends of his pants into his boots or not.
Benedict was out-and-about, and not expected back for a while, so Martin and I took a little walk into the woods. It occurred to me that maybe we ought to try out some of our new Pattern abilities, only I didn't actually want to walk away through Shadow, since I wasn't sure how easily we'd be able to get back -- and I did sort of want to talk to Benedict. So I suggested trying to find useful things. I started with a dagger, which, after a little concentrating, I found behind a tree. Then Martin went looking for, like, an octopus salad with squid dressing, or something, and of course had no luck at all. I suggested he might want to look for something that would actually exist in this Shadow. Boys can be so dense. So then he went looking for a sword, which he found, and then he was acting all smug, like it was so cool that his sharp pointy thing was bigger than mine. Typical.
But this kept us entertained for a while, and when we got back to the house, Benedict was arriving. He greeted Martin with obvious joy, and when he figured out who I was... well, at least he didn't eviscerate me on the spot.
He took us into the house and asked how we'd gotten there. He's generally regarded as the most trustworthy in the family (unless you count Gerard, who isn't bright enough to be dishonest), so I told him most of the story -- about Eric, about Corwin, about Deirdre, about going to Rebma and walking the Pattern. I even told him a little bit about what was up with Random, but I felt sort of weird about it with Martin sitting right there.
Then Benedict got a Trump call from someone, and next thing I knew, he was telling us to get ourselves armed and ready for a battle back in Amber. I changed back into my own clothes, which were still a little damp, and got myself a sword and shield.
I'm really not sure why I decided to go along. It just seemed like the thing to do at the time.
We Trumped onto the side of the mountain a little way down from the castle, where these... cyborg sorts of creatures were swarming. Individually, they were pretty easy to kill -- they weren't using any sort of strategy at all, and they weren't very fast -- but there were just so many of them. And they just kept coming, up from the place everyone here calls the Black Road. And I can see why.
Eventually, the cyborgs started thinning out, but they were replaced by something much ickier: giant, fiercely strong beast-men which seemed to be tethered to the Black Road by some sort of energy cord that moved along with them -- like a cable car, almost, only huge and humanoid and malevolent. Julian, who had assembled with his Rangers nearby, charged the one in the lead -- they were marching single-file down the road with a good bit of distance between each one -- and the thing nailed him with its club, knocking him aside like a ragdoll.
Well, better him than me, right? He's brave, I'll give him that much. Now, if only it could've been Eric that got pummelled. Or Dad.
So, things were looking pretty bad for the home team, and it was obvious that closing with these things was not the way to go. But it occurred to me that maybe those energy tether things were the source of their power, and if we could just sever them....
I ran down closer to the first giant beast-man-thingie and threw my shield, discus-like, through its tether. A moment later, BOOM! The whole thing exploded into millions of tiny... bugs. Shit. Ever get caught in a rain of bugs? Some of them found their wings, but others... well, let's just say that not all of them had reached flight-stage yet, and unfortunately those kinds are especially unpleasant when you're being pelted with them.
The thing was, the timing between when my shield struck the tether and when the beastie exploded made me think that maybe something else had caused the explosion. So I ran back up to talk to Benedict about it, since he's supposed to be this brilliant commander.
Turns out he'd been pretty significantly injured in the meantime, fighting with these giant pale female fighters -- Hellmaids, I found out later -- further up the hill. Now he was watching the approach of the giant beasties while getting his wound tended. I mentioned that the energy tethers seemed to be the weak point, and he gave me a 'well, duh' kind of look, but he didn't give any orders. Before I could grab another shield and try taking another one out, the second one exploded.
I figured that someone, somewhere must be taking these things out magically, and that there was nothing more I could do in this part of the battle. I looked farther up the hill and saw that one lone guy seemed to be trying to keep the Hellmaids from storming the castle. So I took off running up the hill.
It took me a while to get there -- a couple more of the evil bug things exploded in the meantime, and a couple of them took flight toward the castle, which was really freaky -- and by the time I arrived, the nearest Hellmaid was already headed toward the castle. I knew I could never catch up to her -- that bitch was fast -- so I picked up a rock and hurled it at the back of her head.
A very nice shot, if I do say so myself. It certainly got her attention. She spun around and came running back toward me and the other guy, eventually leaping over our heads and landing in a fighting stance.
The guy.... Well, I could tell he was a fighter from his stance and the way he handled his weapon, but he seemed really rather freaked out by all of this. And I couldn't tell which freaked him out more -- me, or the Hellmaid.
So, I figured this was going to be one hell of a fight -- I mean, anyone who can get an opening on Benedict, of all people, has got to be just incredible -- but then a horn sounded off in the distance, and the Hellmaid turned tail and ran. I didn't really know what that was all about.
And the battle was over, just like that.
So, there I was, standing on the hillside, covered in bugs and cyborg gore.... Funny how just hours before, I never would've guessed that I'd actually want to submerge myself in water again before the end of the day.
Fighter-guy introduced himself as Hargomme. I've never heard of him -- but I got the weirdest feeling that I ought to know him, somehow....
It occurred to me that I really ought to check on Martin -- y'know, to make sure he didn't die or anything. That'd kind of suck. So I walked back down the hill. (Hargomme headed in the other direction.) It took me a while to find him -- the battle had ranged over a pretty large area -- but eventually I caught sight of him, talking about a mile a minute to some other guy about how cool the battle was.
It was about then that I realized -- all of a sudden, like being hit by a bus full of librarians -- that I hadn't slept in about thirty-six hours. Which normally isn't a problem for me -- but this time, I'd left home, had one major and a couple of minor battles, and -- oh, yeah -- walked the friggin' PATTERN. I knew that I had to crash, like, NOW. So talked to Martin just long enough to make sure he was OK -- he had a nasty gash on one arm, but he wasn't in any danger, and it didn't seem to be slowing him (or his mouth) down any -- and then I found a less-bug-covered spot under a tree and took a nap.
I don't know how long I was out -- a couple hours, maybe -- but it wasn't nearly long enough. It felt like just a minute or two later that Martin was shaking me awake and asking me if I wanted to catch a ride back up to the castle on the medical wagon. I saw that he'd gotten his arm bandaged, which was good. I mean, not that I care or anything.
So we rode back up to the castle, talking about the battle on the way. Well, mostly Martin talked. I was still really tired. I'm pretty sure I told him a little bit about the castle, though, and where he was likely to be staying. It may have been over six years since I was last here, but I figured things hadn't changed that much, even with Eric gone all usurper-bitch all over the place. Plus, I'm not sure six years where I was is equal to six years in Amber. I should check on that.
So, we made it to the castle and I made sure Martin got assigned to a guest room and found the right people to talk to about getting him clean clothes and stuff. Once I was sure he was good and occupied, I headed off to do my own thing.
Which, in this case, meant finding Random. I wanted to make sure the little shit was still alive before I strangled him.
Finding him turned out to be easier said than done. From the view through the Trump -- was that just yesterday? -- I knew he was in a bedroom somewhere. That, unfortunately, doesn't narrow things down very much -- this place is full of bedrooms. I was hoping Eric might've posted a guard outside his captive's door, which would've been a pain to weasel around but would at least have made things obvious. No such luck, though.
I was just about to resort to knocking on all the doors when I caught sight of a servant coming out of one of the guest rooms, looking sheepish. I asked her whose room it was, and she replied that it was empty, she was just airing out rooms for all the dignitaries that would be showing up for Eric's funeral. She'd locked the door, though, so I knew she was lying. I dismissed her, waited for her to disappear down the hall, and knocked.
I got a reply -- surprise, surprise -- in Random's voice. He let me in when I told him who it was. "Airing out the room" my ass -- he'd probably been chain-smoking for two days straight. His right arm was still in a sling, but he looked pretty good otherwise -- he was up and pacing. He asked me for an update.
"Well," I said, "when last we spoke, I was in Rebma. Since then, I walked the Pattern, found Benedict, got dragged back to Amber, fought in the big battle, and how come you never told me you have a son?"
"There was a battle?" he asked, really hyper and totally ducking the question.
"Yeah," I said. "We won, and...."
That's when it finally hit me. I'd been so intent on finding Random, and so strung out on sleep deprivation, that I hadn't even processed it.
Eric is dead. Really, seriously, totally dead.
I told Random. He got even more agitated. He asked me to do him a favor -- to find out who's in charge now. Even with his captor out of the picture, he doesn't want to leave that room 'til he's sure Julian's not going to slit his throat on sight.
OK, I said. I don't know why I let him talk me into this shit.
I also told him, because he seemed so intent on avoiding the subject, that Martin is here, but that Martin doesn't know that he's here. Random suggested we should keep it that way 'til we know more about our situation. I agreed, reluctantly. He also said I shouldn't jump to conclusions without knowing the whole story.
Yeah, and I wonder which part of the story he thinks I don't know -- the part about having a dad that abandons you, or the part about the mom that dies when you're barely old enough to remember her, or the part about having to live with a pain-in-the-ass guardian? I kinda think I get it, y'know?
Whatever.
I figured that the best place for gossip would be the kitchen -- I know how this family eats. Only I was still kind of nasty from the battle. I'd gotten most of the bugs out of my hair, and most of the nasty chunky gory bits off me, but I was still kind of a mess.
So I found my old quarters -- which, if I spend any time here at all, I have got to un-decorate -- and got a servant to bring me some fresh clothes. Real clothes, none of this "ladylike" bullshit. I ended up with black trousers and boots and a poet's shirt, which I can live with.
I headed to the kitchens, where I found Letty, sweet and chatty as ever. She confirmed that yes, Eric is dead, but she wouldn't even venture a guess who's in charge now. I did get some raspberry tarts out of the exchange, though, which really didn't suck. Also a big hug, which wasn't quite as cool as the tarts, but I was willing to put up with it. No sense biting the hand that feeds you berry tarts.
Letty said there was a buffet of sandwiches set up in the dining room, so I headed there next, figuring that'd be the next-best place for gossip. Also, I was getting really hungry. I started opening up the sandwiches, looking for one I actually wanted, and noticed that some of them had cucumbers on them.
Which means Flora must be here. Drag.
I was just getting to the not-stupid sandwiches when Hargomme walked in, along with a woman he introduced as Alyddia. A couple minutes later, who should show up but Brain Boy -- Bleys's kid Gareth. He seemed about as thrilled to see me as I was to see him.
I asked them what'd happened with Eric. Apparently, Eric had been using the Jewel of Judgement to call down lightning against those giant bug-man-thingies -- which explains a lot -- and the strain killed him. Only, before he died, Corwin appeared, and Eric passed the Jewel off to him. Hargomme, Alyddia, and Gareth were all very interested in speculating where Corwin had come from and how he'd gotten there. I didn't say a whole lot -- I was trying to gather information, after all -- until they started asking me direct questions about what I knew: No, I said, I hadn't seen Corwin in... well, ever, until he showed up on our doorstep a couple of days ago. Yeah, he seemed like an OK guy, except for the part about his memory being screwed up. No, I didn't think his memory was still screwed up -- although I didn't know for certain -- since he'd taken the Pattern since then. How did I know he'd taken the Pattern? Well, it was sort of my idea....
I'd just gotten to the part of the story where we got ambushed by Julian's men -- I hadn't even gotten to the part about Random, because they all interrupted me trying to figure out why Julian's men would try to kill Julian's own brother (they obviously haven't been in Amber very long) -- when Martin came bounding into the room, babbling about something going on out in the hall. He wasn't making any sense at all -- somebody should slip that boy some Ritalin, I'm not kidding -- but it didn't really matter, since he just grabbed my arm and dragged me along behind him to see whatever-it-was....
Whatever-it-was turned out to be Bleys and Corwin preparing for a duel. There was quite a crowd gathered around, including a bunch of my aunts and uncles -- not Dad, though, luckily -- but Martin and I managed to find a spot with a good view.
Good thing, too. The fight was amazing. Absolutely the coolest thing I've ever seen. Way better than the Warped Tour. Those two are probably the best swordsmen I've ever seen, and they were fighting with what had to be the most amazing swords ever.
It took almost a half-hour to reach first blood -- Corwin got a good shot on Bleys's thigh -- and then it was over. Bleys announced that he would uphold Corwin's claim to the throne, and that was that.
By now, of course, I had plenty to tell Random. So I led Martin back to the dining room to try to distract him with sandwiches so I could slip away discreetly.... Only Brain Boy caught up with us. He said Corwin wanted to meet with us -- all of us Youngers, that is, -- in about an hour. Luckily, Martin quickly got caught up talking to someone else about the duel, and I excused myself to go do "girl stuff," whatever the hell that is. Scheming behind people's backs, I guess -- that's what the girls at my school do, anyway -- the difference being that I'm actually good at it. I nabbed a few sandwiches on my way out -- this is Random, after all. I've never seen him turn down food.
And he didn't this time, either. He smoked, and ate, and I bummed a cigarette and told him what I'd found out.
He was really glad to hear that Corwin's in charge, what with Corwin not actually being out to get him or anything. Just to be on the safe side, though, he asked me to tell Corwin he's here before he decides what to do next. I think he's hoping for an official "no one's allowed to kill Random" order. Not that that would actually stop some of them from trying, if they really wanted to.
I headed back to the dining room just in time to run into that Alyddia chick. She wanted to talk to Martin and me about what we were going to say to Corwin -- whether we were going to tell him everything we knew.
See, she's had an even more fucked up freaky family outing than I have. Seems weird Uncle Brand finally went totally 'round the bend -- he always was just barely this side of totally bonkers. Alyddia had never even heard of Amber 'til he tracked her down a couple of weeks ago and asked her out.
Did I mention the part where she's my cousin? Did I mention the part where he's my uncle? Did I mention the part where everyone in this family is a FUCKING PERVERT?
So they went out, and he ended up taking her to a Pattern -- some date, huh? -- getting her to walk it... and then stabbing her in the gut, right there in the middle of the Pattern. She got away, obviously, but apparently Bleys and Fiona think her blood spilling on the Pattern may have been what caused that Black Road thingie to spring up. They also suggested that her blood might be able to undo the damage.
That was the part she wasn't too keen on telling Corwin, at least not 'til she knew more about him. Alyddia is officially Not Stupid (even if she did go out with Brand).
So then she said a bunch of stuff about, like, trusting each other and shit, and asked if there was anything else Martin and I had to add about our stories that might be important later.
So -- figuring I was gonna have to tell Corwin about it anyway -- I finished up the part of my story that had Random in it, ending with the bit about how he's here and I've sort of been in contact with him since we got here. I think Martin was maybe a little pissed.
But then -- not to be outdone, I guess -- he says, "I think my grandmother is pregnant."
"Yeah, so? By who?" I said.
"Duh, you were THERE," he said.
"Dude, that was, like, YESTERDAY," I said. "Unless Rebman biology is a lot different that what I'm used to, how the fuck do you know?"
Martin said that he thought his grandmother had been planning something like that for a long time. All I can say is, she is one twisted bitch.
Alyddia looked sort of disturbed by this turn in the conversation. Well, what did she expect? She went out with her own damn uncle, ferchrissake.
Then it was time for our meeting with Corwin, so we headed downstairs to the designated conference room, which was decorated in floral patterns. Gee, wonder who picked those out? Gag.
As we were about to walk in, Gareth and Hargomme arrived from the other direction, and Alyddia went to talk to them for a minute. So I took the opportunity to tell Martin I was sorry about not telling him about his dad 'til now. He acted all kind of like he was above it, but I know better. I let him walk in ahead of me and have a minute by himself before the rest of us came storming in.
I don't know whether he's gonna want to find Random now or not. Either way, I'm probably in hot water with one or both of them.
Then Corwin showed up and got the meeting started. Mostly, he wanted to tell us the gameplan for the next few days. We're waiting for a bunch of dignitaries to show up, and then we're gonna have Eric's funeral followed by a swearing of fealty to Corwin, after which he takes the crown. He asked if we had any questions.
Well, yeah, I thought -- duh. "What about your DAD?" I asked.
"He's been gone for a number of years," Corwin said, "and I have reason to believe he's dead."
"Yeah," I said, "but he's been gone for, like, five years. You were gone for TWO HUNDRED." Have I mentioned that boys can be really dense? Apparently living for millenia doesn't change that.
Corwin insisted that he had it from a reliable source that Oberon really is dead.
I interrupted one more time.
"This 'reliable source' wouldn't happen to be one of your oh-so-trustworthy brothers, would it?"
He insists it's not. But, I dunno, I'm still not really buying it.
I guess I've still got a few days to decide whether I want to swear fealty or go wandering around in Shadow for the next... oh, until someone decides to knock Corwin off. Could be a thousand years, could be hours.
Six of one, half-dozen of the other. Boy, wouldn't Flora be pissed if I refused to swear fealty? I'll have to think about that.
We talked about other things for a while. Alyddia told her story -- well, the parts she was willing to tell, anyway -- and I told Corwin about Random. Martin said a couple of not-nice things about his dad, prompting Corwin to point out what Moire might've done to Random if he'd ever set foot in Rebma to look for Martin. Apparently Martin had never really thought about it that way.
Then I asked about Trumps -- 'cos, hell, I've walked the Pattern now, I think it's time I got my own deck. Corwin said that Llewella would be painting Trumps of all of us Youngers, and we'd all be getting decks with the new Trumps -- after we swore fealty.
Drag.
And the double-drag part is, we're all getting fitted for Court clothes to wear in the Trump sitting and for all the funeral festivities and shit. Alyddia looked about as thrilled by the prospect as I am.
After the meeting, Hargomme suggested we should all get together for breakfast, to talk about what we'd just learned and to have other conversations we hadn't had a chance for yet. "Groovy," I said. "Let's meet at eight o'clock. That's when the second batch of bread comes out of the oven."
Then I headed to my room, leaving Brain Boy to explain to Hargomme what a "clock" is. Heh.
I woke up about an hour before breakfast and went to talk to Random, to fill him in on what went down in the meeting with Corwin.
I knocked, but there was no answer. So I tried the door; it was unlocked.
Random was there, but he was sound asleep and -- judging from the huge collection of empty beer bottles in the room -- likely to stay that way for some time. Oh, and the place still smelled like an ashtray, only now it smelled like an ashtray with beer in it. Still, better than potpourri or whatever that shit is that Flora keeps in her bathroom, right?
I found some paper and pen in a desk drawer and left him a note. Told him I'd talked to Corwin, told him where I was likely to be during the day. Not that he'll care or anything, but still.
I met Hargomme, Alyddia, and Brain Boy for breakfast at the appointed time. Martin showed up a few minutes later. Hargomme asked me a bunch of questions about where I'd learned to fight, and whether women where I come from were allowed to "practice the arts of war". I told him about being on the fencing team and the archery team, that it's all a sport (he was, conveniently, already familiar with the concept of a "sport"); but I also told him that I think I'm good enough to hold my own if it came to real warfare, because, for example, I'm good enough to beat everyone on the fencing team at the boy's school over the hill from mine without even really trying very hard.
Then non-sequitur-boy Martin asks me if I've ever gone out with any of the boys on the team. "Ewwwww, NO," I said, "they're a bunch of idiots."
He looked kind of embarrassed and went to get more food.
Aunt Deirdre showed up about then, which was a big surprise, as I hadn't heard anything about her since she walked the Pattern in Rebma and disappeared for parts unknown. She came to sit with us, and we proceeded to have a very pleasant conversation in which we each tried to determine what the other had been up to in the meantime without actually revealing our own stories. It was fun. About all I got out of her was that Corwin Trumped her yesterday evening and brought her to Amber.
Julian showed up a little after that, and was good enough to sit on the other side of the room. Maybe he was afraid I'd try to stab him with the butter knife if he got too close. Maybe he was right.
A few more people wandered in and out of the dining room while we finished eating -- Fiona came in, and Brain Boy went to talk to her for a while, but she sat with Julian -- but it was mostly quiet...
...'til dear Auntie Flora showed up to collect Alyddia and me for our fittings. Oh, joy. Martin said his grandmother would be taking care of his attire, so he wouldn't need to be fitted (lucky bastard -- and, hey, I guess that's true on both counts, huh?). Flora suggested he remind his grandmother that we don't go as topless here in Amber as they do in Rebma.
God, I hope he forgets. That'd be so funny. And I wonder what she'll have him wearing? I'm totally keeping my fingers crossed for the scaled trunks/no shirt look. Just so I can see the look on Flora's face, I mean.
Of course, I was kind of surprised that he seemed so sure about his grandmother bringing attire for him -- I mean, I hadn't really figured he'd gotten in contact with her since pissing her off so badly....
But more on that later.
So anyhow, Flora drags Alyddia and me off for our fittings -- and I mean that almost literally in my case. She wasn't letting go of my arm, like she was afraid I'd bolt or something.
She took us to her quarters where two seamstresses measured us in about every direction you can imagine. They asked us what kinds of styles we liked to wear. I suggested "something that doesn't cause me to suffocate on my own boobs."
Flora suggested I rephrase that. Sigh.
So we got them to agree to dresses that aren't "overly constraining," and then they started asking us what colors we prefer to wear. I suggested black, of course.
They weren't having it. Not even when I pointed out that it was for a funeral. Not even when I pointed out that the subsequent coronation was for a guy who's pretty color-averse himself.
They suggested red.
"Cool," I said. "Blood red."
They wrote down "garnet" instead. Well, close enough. At least they didn't put me in pink or some shit like that. (They're putting Alyddia in peacock blue. She looked dubious.)
Hargomme caught up with us again after the fitting. He was curious to test his fighting skill against mine, so we went to spar. Alyddia came, too, to watch.
It was pretty interesting, in that in some ways it was just the opposite of my fight with Martin.
(Well, except in the way where I still won.)
Hargomme is obviously better with the finesse -- he got mad skillz, I'm tellin' ya. Of course, he's, like, way older than me, and comes from a place where people apparently do this shit all the time for real, so I'm kinda not surprised. Give me a few years to catch up.
No, the really surprising thing was just how much stronger than him I am. I mean, Martin is a little stronger than I am, but the difference isn't so great that I can't compensate with skill. But I'm so much stronger than Hargomme that I could slam through just about any block he tried. As long as I kept my game really aggressive, I was gonna win.
So the three of us got kind of curious about how all our strengths compare, and decided to do a little arm-wrestling test.
First, I arm-wrestled Alyddia. We're pretty evenly matched. We called the contest when we realized it was gonna take a while for either of us to get an edge.
Then Alyddia arm-wrestled Hargomme.
SLAM. It was over in seconds.
"Were you even trying?" she asked.
I like Alyddia.
We headed back to the dining room to discuss theories on why Hargomme is so much weaker than the rest of us, and ran into Gerard. We decided to include him in the conversation, what with him being all about being strong and shit.
I suggested that maybe Hargomme's people were just naturally weaker than the non-Amber sides of Alyddia's and my families, and that maybe crossing an Amberite with somebody really weak is like filling a glass half with really strong beer and half with water.
(I don't think he was too offended that I compared him to watered-down beer.)
There was also some talk, since Hargomme isn't really 100% sure of his Amber lineage, that maybe he's further removed from Oberon than the rest of us, and that maybe the "family gifts" get diluted through the generations. There hasn't really been enough of a cross-generational sample to test, up 'til recently.
Gerard suggested that it might be fun to pit me against Deirdre or Flora in a weight-lifting contest to test this theory. Somehow I think Deirdre will be more inclined to go for it than Flora. She's also probably more likely to kick my ass in the contest. Still, it could be fun.
Then it was time for my Trump portrait sitting, so I headed off to find Llewella. She asked me what I wanted to wear.
I was still in the poet's shirt and black trousers and black boots I'd acquired yesterday, which seemed fine to me.
"You do realize that Trumps last indefinitely, that this is the picture all your relatives are going to be looking at for years and years, right?" she asked.
Well, duh. That's why I didn't change back into the Nine Inch Nails t-shirt.
So then we started talking about poses and backgrounds, since she can paint whatever kind of backdrop I want. I suggested I should be holding a fencing foil and standing on a cliff by the sea under a stormy sky.
"The sea, yes," she said, "that's a lovely idea, since your father is a sailor...."
Oh, yes, please, let's go there, can we?
I gave her a dirty look. She shut up.
But maybe she was trying to capture me in my natural pissed-off-and-suspicious state, or something, because when she got me all posed and sat down to start sketching, the first question out of her mouth was, "Are you interested in Martin?"
"What do you mean, interested?" I asked, all pissed off and suspicious.
So she launches into this long speech about doing what's best for Martin, where "what's best for Martin" is apparently defined as living under lock and key and never getting to make any of his own decisions, because he's supposed to rule Rebma one day and god forbid he should actually see the world or learn to think for himself before then.
I assured Llewella that I also want what's best for Martin. I failed to mention that I don't agree with her definition.
But then -- oh, it gets worse. It gets so, so much worse.
She said, "Good, because they've already taken him back to Rebma."
Apparently "they" showed up sometime after breakfast. I've no idea whether he went willingly or not. If not....
I'm already working on a plan to get him back.
Llewella finished blocking out my portrait and then asked me to send Alyddia in. I found her out roaming the halls.
I must've still looked pissed off -- probably didn't help any that I was still carrying the blade from my Trump sitting -- 'cos she asked me what was wrong. So I told her about Martin. She didn't seem too pleased by the news, either; I'll bet I can talk her into helping me spring him, if it turns out he wants to be sprung.
Alyddia headed off for her Trump sitting, and I decided it was time to see if Random was up.
This time I let myself in without knocking. He was up, alright, and getting dressed. "Gah -- close the door!" he said. So I did.
No, of course I didn't leave. He's got some interesting scars, I'm tellin' ya, and not all of them are associated with his recent impalement. I should remember to ask him about those.
I bummed another smoke and told him about Martin. He didn't seem overly concerned. In fact, he got kind of defensive when I implied that he might consider giving a shit.
So then he asked me if I've got the hots for Martin. I didn't find this nearly as funny as he did.
We both decided maybe we should change the subject.
So, it turns out he's talked to Corwin, and things are good. He's gonna swear fealty, none of his brothers are gonna kill him, things are looking up. Like me, he's mostly trying to avoid our more unpleasant relatives for the next couple of days. But at least now he gets to leave his room if he wants.
Which, as it turns out, he did. He said he had some business in town and asked if I'd like to come along.
Well, duh.
We headed down to the docks and into a bar....
The Piss 'n' Vinegar. God, I haven't set foot in the place since I was... what, four, maybe? But it still looks the same. Weird.
Anyhow, Random was looking for this guy Eddie, who was... I don't know, supposed to be acquiring something for him, or something -- Random was pretty vague about the whole thing -- so he bought me a beer and then chatted up some of the patrons (none of whom seemed to either be Eddie or know where he was) while I sat in the corner and drank.
Which worked just fine for me, until this big, nasty, smelly, tatty-eared sailor walked in and made a very foolish decision.
He started hitting on me.
"Uh, your name wouldn't happen to be 'Eddie', would it?" I asked?
Sadly, no such luck. He introduced himself as Beauregard, "...but my friends call me Borg," he said. (Yeah, and they'll be calling him "Dork" when this story gets around.) He did say that he knows Eddie, though, but that he hadn't seen the guy around for a couple of days.
By then, Random was chatting up the barmaid, and had been doing so for some time, so he didn't even notice the stinking mound of flesh taking a seat at my table.
"What's a pretty little thing like you doing all alone in a place like this?" Tub O' Lard asked.
"Oh, I'm not alone," I said. "I'm with that scrawny guy up by the bar."
I was really hoping he'd pick a fight with Random. That would've been hilarious.
No such luck, though. He persisted. He suggested that I go back with him to check out his berth on the "Sea Ghost". A "friendly offer," he called it.
I showed him my sword as a "friendly refusal", and suggested maybe he might try chatting up the barmaid instead. I mean, she seemed pretty receptive.
All I can say is, I refuse to be held responsible for the stupidity of others. He tried to kiss me. So I slugged him.
Knocked him cold with one blow. Unfortunately, he managed to take out my beer as he went down. Spilled it all over the front of my shirt.
He hit the ground with an enormous thud, followed by my beer mug, which shattered on the floor. Suddenly the whole place got really quiet, and everyone was staring at me.
"I could use another beer over here," I said.
But Random decided maybe it was time for us to leave.
We headed outside, and he made this big deal about how he'd been just about to find out what he needed to know, what did I have to go and cause a scene for? Yeah, right. So I told him what I found out about Eddie -- which I bet is exactly what he found out, only it took me a lot less time and I didn't have to ogle anyone's cleavage in the process.
We decided maybe we should just drop it and go get some dinner. On the way to the restaurant, we walked by an outdoor cafe, and who should be sitting there but Brain Boy. I ignored him, of course, but he got up and fell into step beside us.
"Gareth!" Random said. "How's it hangin'?"
Gareth responded with his usual blank look. "How is what hanging?"
"Your nads!" Random said. "You know, your balls!"
"Oh," Gareth said, and then he got a not-quite-so-blank look, like he was thinking about it or something.
"Loose," he said. Thanks, TMI Boy.
"We can find a way to fix that," Random said.
Again with the blank look from Brain Boy.
"You know -- sex!" Random said cheerfully. "Have you ever had sex, Gareth?"
I've mentioned they're all perverts, right? So I guess I shouldn't have been too surprised, but I was anyway, when Gareth said, "Yes."
Random looked pretty surprised, too. "Right," he said. "How many times have you had sex, Gareth?"
"Thirty-seven," Gareth said. "But I was young then. I have outgrown it."
OK, whatEVER. Random looked pretty dubious, too, or maybe he was still stuck on the part about Gareth actually having sex. It is a pretty creepy image.
We got to the restaurant. Italian food -- or at least it serves the sort of food I'd classify as Italian if we were somewhere that had, y'know, Italy. It's a pretty nice restaurant, and Random and I were way underdressed (especially with me still damp from my little incident with Tub o' Lard) -- but what're they gonna do, tell Prince Random that he's not allowed to eat there? So we got a table and ordered, and I'd just settled in with a nice glass of wine when....
"Should you be drinking that?" Brain Boy asked.
He's such a pain in the ass. He started asking questions about whether my guardian ought to know about what I was doing. I gave him a number of dirty looks as I expressed my nobody's-business-but-mine opinion on the matter. After a couple minutes of this, he calmly got up and left the restaurant, at which point I shared with Random my feeling about Brain Boy being a pain in the ass.
"Naw, he's really all right to hang out with," Random said, "once you get to know him. We went out and played pool once. He's really good."
"Is that how he got the giant cue-stick up his ass?" I asked.
But then Brain Boy came back again -- only this time, he had someone with him.
Flora. The little shit went outside to Trump Flora.
"Blah blah blah where have you been blah blah blah back to the castle RIGHT NOW blah blah blah," Flora not-quite-yelled, well-aware that everyone in the restaurant was staring at her.
"But our entrees haven't even shown up yet," I said. "We can go back to the castle after dinner."
Random looked really amused. Flora didn't.
After a little more arguing, she decided to try removing me forcibly, conveninently providing the perfect opportunity for that contest of strength Gerard had suggested.
Turns out we're pretty evenly matched. Heh. She gave up, stormed out, and let me finish my damn dinner.
"This civilization is... very strange," Brain Boy said. No, Brain Boy, you're very strange.
The rest of the evening was pretty uneventful. Now we're just killing time for a couple of days 'til the funeral and the coronation. Oh, and I'm still thinking about my plan for getting Martin back.
A whole week away from my stupid school. I wonder if anyone misses me? Well, anyone who isn't on the fencing or archery team, that is.
It's Funeral-and-Coronation Day here in Amber. The festivities started bright and early. Almost the whole family turned out, arrayed in their finery (yes, even Dad -- but not Brand. Gee, wonder why? If he's in the mood to slit open another relative, he's pretty much got his pick today). We all got saddled up on pure white horses (well, if you don't count the dark spots that had been painted white) for the funeral procession through town.
We got visual confirmation of the Rebman party, a bit behind us in the lineup. Martin is with them. There are a lot of guards with them as well. Something tells me these two things are related. (The lot of them opted for Traditional Rebman Partial Nudity, at least. Score!)
So we paraded Eric's coffin through town and out to the mausoleum where he's getting stored. We might as well have been carrying big signs saying "Yes, folks, he's really dead!"
The pallbearers got him interred, Corwin probably said something meaningful -- I wasn't paying much attention -- and then we had the option of walking into the crypt to pay our final respects. I never really had any initial respect for Eric, though, so I opted out. So did Alyddia. Hargomme and Brain Boy went in, though.
And then the weirdest thing happened.
Somebody shouted, "The Unicorn!" and pointed up the hill. All I saw was a flash of white, which really could've been anything. Maybe Brand showed up after all and decided to pay his respects by streaking. Nothing says "Have fun in Hell, bitch" like a pasty white butt.
Oooh, now I know what to get Flora for her birthday.
After that, the party sort of broke up, with little knots of people talking among themselves and meandering back up toward town and the Castle. I followed along at a safe distance behind the Rebmans, so I could keep an eye on them without their necessarily knowing that I was keeping an eye on them. Martin saw me, I know, but he was careful not to make eye contact or anything. It's comforting knowing he's not a total idiot.
In theory, we had several hours of free time before the Coronation festivities started up in the mid-afternoon. But about a minute after I got back to the Castle, I pretty much had plans for the rest of the day. First, I got word that Corwin wanted to have a meeting with all us youngers a couple hours before the start of the reception. Then Random came by and asked me to run another errand for him.
Seems he still hadn't acquired his little package from that Eddie character, and was about to get stuck in his own meeting with Corwin that would interfere with his scheduled pickup. So he asked me to go.
Well, it was bound to be more entertaining than hanging around waiting for a meeting, right?
I changed out of my funeral clothes and into trousers and a blouse. Easier to carry a sword that way. I made my way into town and found a guy matching Eddie's description. (He is, it turns out, about as skeezy as Tub-O'-Lard, but at least Eddie wasn't stupid enough to hit on me.) After a couple minutes of sizing me up and making sure I was who I said I was, he handed over a little package about the size of my fist, wrapped in brown paper and string.
When I got back up to my room at the castle, I snapped the string and peeked inside. I mean, hey, it's not like Random told me not to, right? It turned out to be full of a pinkish powder that didn't look familiar to me. I was guessing drugs of some kind, but I wasn't about to test that theory without talking to Random. I mean, it could've been poison, too, y'know? I stashed the package in the back of a desk drawer and headed down to the meeting with Corwin.
All the other Youngers were there, too -- including Martin. Good to know they're not keeping him totally under lock and key.
When the meeting started, Corwin introduced a girl who can't be much older than I am, with short brown hair and freckles and that sort of eager-to-please look that often indicates an easy target. Her name is Dara; she, apparently, is Corwin's proof that Oberon isn't coming back.
She is from Thelbane. So, she says, is the Jewel of Judgement. They want it back to fight some sort of threat, although she wasn't real clear on the nature of the threat. Apparently it was Thelbane's forces, out to acquire the jewel, that marched up the Black Road in the battle that killed Eric. Dara claims to be a member of a small faction in favor of peaceful negotiations rather than war to acquire the Jewel.
In addition to those oh-so-exciting tidbits, she brought us news of Oberon. Apparently he has been captured by Thelbane, and had given Dara a letter to bring to Amber, along with his signet ring. She passed the letter around for us to examine.
In it, Oberon suggests that if we're reading the note, he's already dead, and that the "serpent is rising". (I am so not gonna go there.) Of course, Dara says the last time she saw Oberon was when he handed off the letter, which I wouldn't call definitive proof of his demise. I made my skepticism known.
Corwin reassured us that if Oberon were to reappear, Corwin would give the throne back to his father.
Dara also made mention of a power her people possess called "Logrus," which is apparently akin to our Pattern abilities. She described being able to travel through Shadow by spreading out some sort of tendrils to the place you want to go and then pulling yourself along on them. She says she possesses this power, but she also says she came to Amber by walking along the Black Road instead of by using Logrus. So I asked her why.
Apparently others who have this power can feel when it is being used. She claims that the power it would've taken for her to get to Amber would've alerted potential enemies to her actions.
(By the way, this becomes important later.)
I'm not sure I trust her. Well, OK, let's be honest here, I'm sure I don't trust her -- not yet, anyway -- but she didn't obviously seem to be lying, and she did get through a meeting with our Elders at which she told exactly the same story without any of them calling her on it.
The meeting concluded, and Corwin took off, leaving us youngers to our own devices.
Martin immediately piped up, asking our advice on whether to bail on his grandmother and Rebma. As he pointed out, he's taken the Pattern, he's not a child anymore, he must be ready to live his own life and make his own decisions, right?
Alyddia and Gareth said a few things about how he's still young and has a lot to learn yet, and that waiting a few more years won't kill him. Then Hargomme added, rather crisply, "If you have to ask, you're not a man yet."
I guess I must be a man, then. Heh.
These answers didn't make Martin very happy, though. He went storming out of the room.
I waited a couple of minutes for the rest of the party to break up, and then I went looking for him. It didn't take long. He was pacing around and cursing at the end of a nearby hallway.
"Hey," I said. "Can I get you anything? Like, y'know, a shirt?"
He shot me a dirty look.
So then I gave him my advice for what to do about his grandmother. I mean, after all those years living with Flora, I figure I'm pretty qualified, right?
I told him he should obey her -- y'know, to build up a false sense of security. It will also give him time to figure out exactly what he wants to do next. Then, once he gets his shiny new Trump deck to go with his shiny new Pattern powers, he can do whatever the hell he wants, and he won't wind up with guards breathing down his neck in the meantime.
It did occur to me that Moire might not actually let him have his own Trump deck, even though supposedly we were all supposed to get them. It also occurred to me that Llewella might not've created Martin trumps for the rest of us. So I promised him that I'd find some way to get him a copy of my Trump if he isn't given a deck of his own. That seemed to make him feel a little better.
We went our separate ways to get ready for the pre-reception. Now I know why Flora is always so insistent on arriving Fashionably Late to everything: she claims it's because a grand entrance requires an appropriate audience, but I think it's because that's twenty more minutes of excruciating social niceties you don't have to suffer through.
There is, however, something to be said for that audience part.
By the time I arrived, the Rebmans were already at their table. And oh, darn the luck, I had to walk right by their table to get to my seat. Moire pretended not to notice me, but she was so obvious in the Not Noticing that she looked kind of stupid. I mean, what kind of a queen lets a sixteen-year-old girl get under her skin like that? Heh. Point for me.
Martin, on the other hand, was definitely Noticing. It's like he'd never seen a chick in a dress before. I mean, really, it's not like my tits were showing -- unlike everyone at his table. Boys are so weird.
I found my table, and my tablemates. Flora (of course; who else would be in charge of the seating chart?) had seated all the rest of us Youngers together, along with the King of Tonga and his wife and daughter, and the Emperor of Cathay and his wife and daughter. Both of the daughters, it turns out, are unmarried. Hargomme, it turns out, had been seated right between them.
This seems like a good time for a brief word about Flora.
She tells me, over and over and over again, that the reason I don't have any friends is that I insist on being right all the time. My argument, of course, is that it isn't a matter of insisting; I just am right most of the time because I'm so frequently surrounded by idiots -- the kind of idiots who, for example, would try to turn a reception dinner into a stud farm without realizing that it might really irritate the stud in question, who by the way has a big pointy sword that he knows how to use.
At least when I piss people off, it's on purpose.
Thanks to my fashionably late arrival, I didn't have to wait long before the Coronation ceremony started. There were seats for all the Elders up on a platform at the front of the room. All those who weren't directly involved in the ceremony took their seats, with Corwin standing front and center.
First Random came in bearing the Jewel on a pillow. Corwin took the Jewel and Random tossed the pillow aside, causing Flora to roll her eyes. Then Deirdre brought in the sceptre and Benedict brought in the Crown, which he placed on Corwin's head.
Wait, did I say all the aunts and uncles took their places? Brand wasn't there, which we kind of expected, but neither was Bleys. Dunno what's up with that.
That means, of course, that he wasn't there for the swearing of fealty, which happened next.
Then there was the dinner, which was just a ton of squirmy fun. The Emperor of Cathay and his family were these really quiet, reserved types, but the King of Tonga... well, let's just say he was a jolly guy in a big flowered dress. His daughter turned out to be similarly gregarious.
"You like the salad?" she asked Hargomme when the first course came out. "It is from my land. I picked the fruit myself."
"Yes, it's nice," Hargomme said, sort of blandly polite and noncommittal.
"Are you married?" she asked.
"Not anymore," Hargomme replied.
Suddenly Alyddia and I both simultaneously decided we needed to sit up and pay more attention.
Turns out Hargomme used to be married, to someone he apparently actually liked -- I guess marriages there don't work the way they do here -- but she died. Flower Princess figured she wasn't going to get anywhere with him, but she wasn't ready to concede defeat entirely.
She turned to Brain Boy, seated on the other side of her.
"You like the salad?" she asked. "It is from my land."
"I find it to be nutritious," he replied. "It contains many of the things I require to function." Ah, good ol' Brain Boy.
"I picked the fruit myself," she persisted.
Brain Boy got that Brain Boy look. "Do you have other duties besides picking fruit?"
By this time, it was all I could do not to choke on my own salad.
"Are you married?" the princess asked, undaunted.
I leaned over to Alyddia. "No, but he's had sex thirty-seven times," I said under my breath, so she could choke on her salad, too.
The rest of the meal was tasty but mostly uneventful. After the last course was served, and people started getting up to dance and socialize, Random got my attention and beckoned me outside. When I caught up to him, he asked me to bring down his package.
"What is that stuff, anyway?" I asked.
He said it's some sort of drug that makes people start talking about whatever they're thinking of, even if it's stuff they don't want other people to know. He intended to have a little fun by spiking the drinks with it. Sounded like a good plan to me. I figured maybe I could dope Hargomme's drink and then maneuver him into Flora's vicinity.
I went back to my room and tucked the package down the front of my dress. But by the time I got back downstairs....
Outside the ballroom there was a servant crying hysterically, shrieking, "He's been murdered!" I couldn't figure out who she was talking about, but needless to say I was on my guard. When I got back into the ballroom, though, nothing seemed obviously amiss. So I headed across the room in search of Random, figuring maybe he'd know what was going on.
I got intercepted by Brain Boy, though, who asked me to help him keep an eye on Dara. I was gonna blow him off -- I mean, standing in a corner staring at little-miss-helpful-peacenik didn't sound like nearly as much fun as spikin' drinks and takin' names -- but then Alyddia asked, too, and she seemed very freaked out. So I did.
Sadly, there wasn't so much as a steak-knife handy for me to arm myself with. I know, because I looked.
I stood in the corner glowering and looking bored while first Gareth and then Alyddia talked with Dara. A few minutes later they came over and retrieved me, asking me to accompany them to a private room where we could guard Dara while she used her powers to track Logrus.
OK, whatever. I asked them if it couldn't wait five minutes while I finished running my little errand for Random, but they insisted that we had to go right now.
So we went.
And that's when things got really interesting.
We found an empty room (the room where Eric had formerly lain in state, as it happens; lucky for us it didn't have that lingering dead-guy smell) and Dara did her thing. "Her thing," as it turns out, looks a lot like sitting in a chair waving her hands around.
After many minutes of this, I was seriously considering bailing -- I mean, if I want to see bad voguing I can always just show up to my stupid school's stupid Spring Formal -- but then all of a sudden her eyes got really wide, and....
The next bit is kind of a blur. I'm not exactly sure which parts really happened and which parts, if any, I just thought I saw.
For an instant, it looked like she was being pulled forward by nothing-at-all; and then I was being pulled, too -- by Dara, I think, even though she wasn't touching me. Everything went kind of fuzzy, and I felt like I was moving really, really fast -- like the way they always show hyperspace in the movies, except, y'know, real.
And then we stopped.
We -- all of us, Brain Boy and Alyddia, too -- were on a bridge. A huge fucking rainbow bridge with nothing else in any direction but starscape.
Standing in front of us, maybe 30 feet away, was Brand.
And then it all kind of gets blurry again for a minute, because Brand made a motion with his hand, and next thing I knew I was off the bridge, dangling upside down by the ankle.
Oh. My. God.
I could see light below. Way below. Like, whole cities become pinpricks of light because they're so far below. It was like those pictures of the earth from orbit.
Remember the part where I couldn't find anything to arm myself with? Yeah, I was remembering that part, too: "Let's see: Brand has powerful magic and a convenient case of total insanity; I've got, what, a stupid red satin dress that is now obscuring my view, and a packet of drugs tucked into my cleavage."
I made damn sure not to drop the drugs.
It took me a minute to get my skirt pulled out of my face. (Oh, and have I mentioned how glad I am that I opted in favor of underwear?) When I finally did, Brand asked, "So, don't you like being dangled by your ankle?"
Yeah, like I'm gonna lose my composure just because I'm being dangled upside down from a great height by one of my uncles. I mean, it's not like this was the first time, right? "Did I say I didn't like it?" I asked.
"Oh, well, if you're enjoying it, I'll keep doing it, then," says Brand.
Uh-huh. And I'm so sure he would've put me down if I'd asked.
So then he tells us he's got a message for us to take back to King Corwin. Well, not all of us -- he said Alyddia was going to have to stay with him. Why? Because he's a PERVERT.
As if to prove that last part, his message, in fine sexual-predatory-serial-killer fashion, turned out to be a creepy little nursery-rhyme riddle:
A turning point in every day
Reversed I do not alter
When half of me says haste away
The other bids me falter
Yeah, really fucking clever. "What about noon?" I asked, a bit irritated at how hard it is to look nonchalant while hanging upside down with a dress over your head.
"Ah, I'm glad to see there's some intelligence in this family," Brand replied.
Well, yeah, it's not like he got any.
Unfortunately, no one else on the bridge did, either. Dara chose that moment to attack Brand with what I'm guessing was one of those Logrus tendril things.
Brand counterattacked, dropping some sort of little black bag in the process.
And then it becomes kind of a blur again.
I think I heard Brain Boy say, "Grab the bag." I think Alyddia may have taken a step or two toward Brand. But after that, I don't really know, because... well, you know that force that was holding me up by my ankle?
It let go.
Everyone says that when you're about to die, you think about everything that has happened in your life -- all the ups and downs, your fondest memories, your deepest regrets.
This is complete bullshit. What you think is, "How the fuck can I keep myself from dying?" Which is good -- because if you wasted time with all that other shit, you might actually die.
I started looking around for some way -- any way -- to manipulate Shadow and keep myself from splatting to my death. Only... when you're falling from that far up, there's not really much to wrap your mind around, y'know? No little features you can start tweaking.
So I fell for a while -- 'til I remembered that dream I used to have where I'd escape from one of Flora's awful parties by ripping off whatever stupid puffy thing she'd dressed me in and using it as a cape to fly away.
Well, I was once again dressed in a stupid dress of Flora's choosing, wasn't I? So I figured, what the hell?
I grabbed the back of the skirt, held it out like a cape, and concentrated on increasing the rush of wind in my face. It seemed to be working -- the wind definitely got faster. But then I realized that it might be because I was falling faster. With no real visual references, it was hard to tell. So I craned my neck up to look at the bridge, high above me.
It definitely wasn't getting any farther away. At times, it even appeared to be getting a little closer. I considered manipulating probability a little more to blow myself all the way back up, but decided against it. In the first place, I'm kind of new to all this probability-manipulation stuff, and I figured I was better off sticking with something I knew was working than risking shooting it all to hell. In the second place... well, it looked almost like there were fireworks or something going off on the bridge, and I figured maybe I was safer where I was, at least for the moment.
So I waited.
And waited.
And waited.
Eventually, I felt something, like a tickle in my brain. At first I thought maybe it was Brand, trying to fuck with me some more. But after a few minutes, I decided that it kind of felt like a Trump contact. I've never been trumped before, what with there not having been any Trumps of me in existence until approximately now. But the more I thought about it, the more it seemed like the right conclusion. And since I figured anyone who had a Trump of me would be more likely to be Not Brand than to be Brand, I took a risk and accepted the contact.
It was Brain Boy. Good ol' Brain Boy. He'd gotten back to Amber and found my Trump.
I explained the circumstances of my not being dead, and asked him to pull me through before they changed.
He suggested instead that I should manipulate probability some more to get back up to the bridge and rescue Dara, who apparently was responsible for those fireworks I'd seen earlier. He said he'd hold the contact and pull me through if anything went wrong.
Well, we soon figured out that maintaining the contact while I manipulated probability was not going to work. So he went ahead and pulled me through.
And there I was, standing in the same room in the castle we'd been pulled out of, looking like I'd just driven across New York State in a convertible at 90 miles an hour. Brain Boy was there, of course. So was Fiona, sitting in the chair Dara had been using.
"Eve. How are you?" Fiona asked.
"OK," I said. "Not dying is bonus."
"Yes," she said.
Maybe this is why Fiona never gets invited to Flora's parties. Her small-talk skills leave something to be desired. I'll bet she and Brain Boy get along great.
"Yeah, OK, I've got stuff to do," I said.
And I did.
I set off for the Armory. This not being armed stuff sucks. I hadn't gotten very far, though, when I ran into Alyddia, who apparently had made it safely back to Amber at about the same time as Brain Boy. She decided to fill me in on exactly what was going on -- and about friggin' time, too.
The King of Tonga is dead. Apparently he has been dead for a little while -- since at least this afternoon, prior to the Coronation festivities. The jolly man in the flowered dress who dined at our table was an impostor.
Brand.
Oh, and the icing on the little psycho-pervert cake is that he chose to reveal himself (no, not like that) by asking Alyddia to dance and then saying things to her that only Brand would know. And then, when she was good and freaked-out, he walked toward the back of the banquet hall and then just... vanished.
This is what had happened while I was upstairs retrieving the package for Random. That's why Alyddia was so freaked out when I got back.
She told me Hargomme is investigating the murder. I told her I needed to go do a couple of things -- like arm myself -- but that I'd catch up to them later.
I headed to the Armory, where I got stopped by a guard who told me no guests were allowed through by order of King Corwin. I helpfully pointed out that I'm not a guest, I'm family, and that I needed to arm myself right now.
And then who should come out of the Armory but Random.
"Hey, Eve," he said. "What's up?"
"Not much," I replied. "Almost died."
"Did it have something to do with Moire?" he asked.
"No." Whoa. Totally wasn't expecting that. So, "Maybe we should talk about this in private," I suggested.
"OK, let's go to the library," he said. "I need a drink."
I wasn't going anywhere without a weapon, though. So we poked around the Armory 'til we found me a decent knife that I could strap around my thigh, under my skirt. Now I'm really resenting Flora's dislike of pockets -- resenting more than usual, I mean. It'd be really convenient to have a pocket I could slit open for easy access to a concealed weapon. But no, wouldn't want to ruin the line of the dress by doing anything useful....
But I digress.
Random and I headed toward the library, but we got stopped by Hargomme and Alyddia along the way. Alyddia wanted Random to help save Dara, still (as far as anyone knows) stuck out on that rainbow bridge, but Random didn't have any good ideas for getting to her, much less for fighting Brand if he still happened to be around.
I decided to put in my two cents' worth.
"Well, just thinking like a family member here," I said to Alyddia, "there's no real reason for Brand to kill Dara. I mean, he mostly was fighting her in order to keep you from leaving, right? But now that we're all safe in Amber, he'll probably want to keep her as a bargaining chip. It's what I would do, anyway."
I'm not sure she found my analysis very reassuring.
"Does Brand have the hots for you or something?" Random asked Alyddia.
"No," Alyddia said.
"Well, he did ask you out," I reminded her.
I don't think she found that very reassuring, either.
Random invited Alyddia to join us for a drink, but she took off to find Corwin. So we went off to the library by ourselves.
When we got there, Random pulled out a couple of shot glasses and a decanter of amber-colored liquid. We downed several shots while I told him the story of what had happened with Brand.
When I got done with the story, he asked, "What does Martin think of me?"
"I don't think he likes you very much," I replied, "what with you never actually seeing how he's doing or anything."
I didn't say "duh", but I was thinking it pretty hard.
So then Random starts talking about Martin's mother. This freaked me out a little, but I wasn't about to tell him that.
He says he really loved her, he just didn't want to get married. Which, by the way, I totally understand. He says she got all whiny and clingy when she found out she was pregnant, insisting that he had to marry her -- so he sent her back home, I guess so she could calm down and he could figure out what to do. He didn't expect her to kill herself.
He reiterated several times that it wasn't his fault.
It was, of course, completely obvious that he thinks it is.
Then he suggested that maybe I should explain all this to Martin, so that next time Random saw him, maybe it wouldn't be so awkward.
Yeah, like my telling Martin, "Your father says it's not his fault!" is gonna make everything all better. But I said I'd try. In my defense, I had downed quite a few drinks by then.
Before we could get any further into this maudlin exercise in self-pity, though, Random got a Trump call. It was Corwin. Apparently Hargomme and Alyddia and Brain Boy had convinced him that we really needed to save Dara -- so he pulled us through and we all started formulating a plan.
Random was just getting fully on-board with the idea of a swashbuckling rescue mission -- did I mention we'd kind of had a lot to drink? -- when Brain Boy disappeared. Just up and vanished. So Corwin pulled out his Trump, made contact, and pulled him back.
He had Dara. She was unconscious, possibly dead.
Apparently Brain Boy just popped back over to the rainbow bridge and found her, all alone and unconscious. No sign of Brand.
Corwin was checking for a pulse and stuff when she woke up. She looked around at all of us, looking a bit dazed. But when she saw Corwin, she started coughing, all pitiful-like. He immediately moved to comfort her.
Well, well. And I'd thought Dara was the easy target.
Men are so stupid.
On today's show: jolly fat dead men and the people who are forced to give a shit.
I started my day in yet another meeting with the other Youngers, in preparation for yet another meeting with Corwin.
The main topic of discussion: the dead Tongan king. Remember that bag Brand had? Gareth successfully retrieved it. It turned out to be full of the dead king's hand. We spent much of the Youngers meeting speculating why Brand would've been carrying it around. The most popular hypothesis is that it was a material component for whatever magic he used to shapeshift into the king's form. However, I also pointed out that freaky psycho serial killer types (and I'd say Brand totally qualifies) sometimes save "trophies" from their victims.
(I had to explain to Hargomme what a serial killer is.)
Oh, and speaking of killing people and doing bizarre things with the dismembered bodies, Alyddia had quite a dream last night. She was on the Pattern again, but in a place she didn't recognize, under a red sky with purple lightning. Dear Uncle Brand was chopping her into pieces. He gave her left leg to Corwin, gave her right leg to Dara, kept her right hand for himself, and gave her head to the Unicorn, who knocked it away with its horn in a bizarre game of Pattern Putt-Putt. Fiona picked up the head and whispered, "Blood." Alyddia woke up with her scar aching.
All I can say is, either something really bad is gonna happen or that girl has issues. Possibly both.
We got to the meeting with Corwin in time to catch the Elders' meeting breaking up. Looks like all the aunts and uncles were there except Brand, Bleys and Benedict.
When Gerard came out of the meeting room, he pulled me aside to give me a message from Martin, who had trumped him. Apparently Martin didn't get a trump of me (oh, what a surprise), and wants me to spring him.
"Do you know what that means, 'spring him'?" Gerard asked.
"I'm sure he'll clarify when I talk to him," I said. Heh.
(Easier said than done, it turns out, but I'll get to that later.)
It turns out Corwin called the meeting because he wants us Youngers to attend the funeral of the dead Tongan king as Amber's representatives. The plan is for Gerard to sail us out there and drop us off, and we'll all Trump back to Amber when the funeral ceremonies (which could last up to ten days) are over.
This led nicely into my only major point of business.
"So, yeah, Trump decks," I said, pointedly, since he hadn't actually given us any Trumps yet. He took the hint and passed us each a deck. They each include all the Elders, all us Youngers -- even Martin -- and an Amber trump.
Score!
The conversation turned back to the far less interesting topic of funeral arrangements. We leave at dawn tomorrow for the five-day voyage to Tonga. The dead king's wife and daughter (and, oh yeah, his carved up remains) will be travelling with us, too, so it's not like the funeral is gonna start without us, right?
I was kind of half listening to Corwin's descriptions of the days and days of feasting associated with a traditional Tongan funeral when something amusing occurred to me (and no, I wasn't wondering whether sliced-and-diced king would be on the feasting menu)....
"So," I interrupted, "much as I hate to ask anything so reminiscent of my Aunt Flora, what should we wear?" Corwin laughed and said that the formal court clothes we wore to the Coronation ceremonies should be fine.
Drag. I was really hoping we'd get Hargomme and Brain Boy into a couple of those big flowered dresses.
As the meeting broke up, we Youngers made plans to meet at the Pattern chamber in the evening, to see whether we can use the Pattern to get to a person rather than a place. Then Alyddia and I went out to work on her sword skills.
It sounds like her home Shadow is a lot like Earth in that swordplay is not really a common skill; so she doesn't have much experience with it at all. But she's pretty athletic and does a lot of running, so she's not a totally hopeless case or anything, which is good. We started out with some pretty basic exercises for strength, accuracy and conditioning, and advice on keeping your cool and using your opponent's frustration against him. I think I'm gonna emphasize defensive moves for her: she's got great endurance, so if she fights conservatively she stands a good chance of wearing down her opponents and gaining the advantage.
I've gotta say, it's nice to have a good excuse to get a sword into my hands.
When we broke for lunch, I went up to my room to try out my new Martin trump. I concentrated, the picture started to move... and suddenly it was Llewella.
Her name is Rebman for "two-faced megabitch," in case you were wondering.
I told her I was trying out my trumps, and this one was supposed to be Martin.
She informed me that all the Martin trumps will connect to her. "You may regard me as a call-forwarding service," she said.
"Oh, I can think of a few things I might regard you as," I replied. I promised to tell Corwin about this little "glitch" in the trumps and broke the contact.
I decided to go talk with Random. I was hoping I could convince him to con Llewella into believing he wants to reconcile with Martin, so she'd get Martin to trump Random and Random could give him my trump.
Well, it seemed like a good plan to me....
Random doesn't think Llewella will buy it. He suggested that I should just take the Pattern, pop down to Rebma, and hand over my trump in person. I pointed out politely that DUH, I don't actually know where in Rebma Martin would BE, and -- as I'm SURE Random would understand -- there are enough people in Rebma who are pissed at me (including, y'know, the QUEEN) that maybe I should be avoiding it entirely.
He conceded on that one.
Then he suggested that I could get someone else to carry my trump to Rebma. That's not quite so sucky a plan, except that I don't know who's headed to Rebma in the near future that I can actually trust. So my backup plan is to ask Gerard to give Martin my trump if Martin contacts him again. (And as I can't believe Short Attention Span Theatre Boy will sit around twiddling his thumbs indefinitely, I figure there's a good chance he will be calling again. And probably sooner rather than later.)
I went looking for Gerard, but found out from a page that he was all the way down at the harbor getting the ship ready for tomorrow. I figured I'd have plenty of time to talk to him on the voyage, so I headed to my room to get packed.
Just as I was finishing up, Alyddia trumped me. It turns out that a former co-worker of hers was among the cyborg army we'd fought -- how many days ago? -- but he'd been rescued and un-borg-ified and had regained consciousness. Alyddia wanted to try to get him back to their home Shadow before he figured out he was in a completely different world. Her plan was to walk the Pattern, go to one of the cities in her home world that hadn't been invaded by cyborgs, and then trump me again to pass her heavily-sedated co-worker through to her.
I had nothing better to do, so I headed down to the infirmary to await her call.
Man, we have got to import some magazines, or something, for the infirmary. Even one of those big posters of dangerous skin lesions would be better than nothing. 'Cos let me tell you, sitting around trying to carry on a conversation with a heavily-sedated office peon just isn't as exciting as it sounds....
After I got the guy passed through to Alyddia, I headed down to the Pattern chamber for our scheduled Youngers meeting. Alyddia trumped me again about the time I got to the bottom of the stairs, and I brought her through. The guy guarding the sign-in book gave us kind of a funny look, since Alyddia had just signed in an hour or so earlier and hadn't actually signed out again. Heh.
Brain Boy and Hargomme were waiting for us in the Pattern chamber. Brain Boy used some funky Pattern trick to disappear, and then Hargomme walked the Pattern and tried to go to Brain Boy while Alyddia and I looked on. (This was fine with Alyddia, who was still recovering from her own earlier Pattern walk.) Hargomme got to the center and concentrated on Brain Boy, but nothing happened. So he told us he was going to his home Shadow to do a few things instead, and disappeared from the Pattern.
Figuring that was it for the evening's oh-so-lame entertainment, I headed back to my room. Tomorrow we sail for Tonga....