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The comfortable prisoner

     he wobbly but ceiling-high mirrors in Galoria’s ballroom reflected the silver egg, Estefan, the entire wildly ornamented room, and me. I was looking at my reflection and preening, for lack of anything more useful to do. I looked good in Estefan’s silver coverall, I thought, it set off my black hair. It was kind of him to lend it to me, now I had something clean to wear to meet the king of Galoria. Alexander had brought us here; ‘here’ meaning the largest ballroom in Galoria’s palace, by using a form of Nexus power. Monias, the king of Galoria I mentioned earlier, had been assisting him. They had been searching for some Family member, but instead they caught me on the end of their tractor beam. It was only sheer luck that they happened to be in one of the palace’s largest spaces and not in a small office when they started to do their ‘fishing for Amberites’. They had pulled Estefan and me into this reality and into this room, and left us alone to talk among themselves. So here we were, enjoying the sights.

The reflection of Estefan’s silver-grey flying egg looked particularly surreal under the gilded ceiling. Estefan seemed to share my opinion; he was holding his picture maker to his face and made it click. I turned away from my reflection and said to him:
“I’ll have to be off to the Courts—“
“No problem!” he said. “I’ll take you there when I figure out how to get the ship out of this room.”
I suggested it would be polite to say our farewells to the king before we went, and Estefan agreed. He also said that it had been nice to see Alexander again. My frown, which showed I did not share his opinion about my cousin, seemed to surprised him.
“We don’t get along.” I explained. “A difference in character.”
Estefan agreed that Alexander could sometimes be excessively evasive, but he said it with a smile. I could not bring myself to taint that friendship by telling him my honest opinion, so I changed the subject.

“So, you can fly the Egg out of here without breaking down a wall?”
Estefan ehm-ed and ahm-ed, said that until now the ships had always been launched into wormholes, but all things considered and if he was allowed to do at least a minimal amount of damage, he might just not totally destroy--.
I suggested we would use a trump, and proceeded to teach him how to use mine. Estefan clearly had no idea what trumps were about. First, he held it to his mouth and yelled ‘hello!’ into the picture. When I explained they worked with a psychic connection, he slapped the card to his forehead and screwed up his face. It was all I could do to keep from laughing out loud.

. . . _ . . .

Suddenly, the ballroom doors flew open and nine soldiers in the red and yellow uniform of Galoria’s palace guard marched in in tight formation. One man -he wore extra gold on his sleeves and collar so I guessed he was their captain- gave a command and the group split in two. Four guards positioned themselves around the Flying Egg. The captain and the other four approached us. When they reached us, they saluted.
“Good afternoon,” I said, after a glance out of the windows to determine the time of day.
“Good afternoon,” the captain said. He was a handsome man with a brown moustache, who looked good in his brightly coloured uniform.

“It is our duty to inform you that you are under arrest, on suspicion of espionage.”
“What!?”
This was outrageous!
“I will have you know,” I said, “that I have been brought here by Lord Alexander himself, against my will, and that I have not set foot outside this chamber since he brought us here! If you dare to arrest me, I assure you there will be a huge political incident!”
My angry speech had no effect. The captain said that my complaints would be brought to the attention of king Monias but at the moment he was obliged to do his duty and arrest me. He spoke with an accent that was clearly Chaosian high Thari, but I had no time to wonder.
When the soldiers moved in, I heard Estefan protest in a bewildered tone of voice:
“But, I’m a scientist!”

“I wish to inform my father about this most offensive situation!” I demanded.
“King Monias will undoubtedly allow you one trumpcall,” the captain said, “under supervision.”
“Very well,” I said, preferring to misunderstand him, and took out my trumps.
“But at the moment I cannot allow it,” the captain said and he made a move to take my deck from me. I took a step backwards. Two guards who had positioned themselves behind me caught me and I had to give them an icy stare to make them let go of my arms.
“We are not qualified to prevent your escape, should you attempt to mis-use your trumpcontact,” the captain said. “So I think you should hand your trumps over to us. Now.” He held out his hand.
I drew myself up to my full height; about six foot seven in boots.
“I give you my word that I will not escape during this trumpcall to my father.”

The captain took a step back and briefly talked with his second in command. I could not hear what they said but they both had this high Chaosian accent. I guessed they were immigrants, but they came from Chaos proper, not from the black zone. Where did Monias get such high-born recruits? When the huddle broke up, the captain cleared his throat and said:
“Milady, if you give us your word, we will accept it.”
I gave it, and shuffled through my pack for my trump of Bleys.

My adopted father took the contact fairly quickly. He was fighting several opponents at once: two or more arms moved in and out of sight as I saw him lunge and parry.
“Quick, Boadice, as you see I have other things on my mind.”
I could be quick.
“Galoria has dared to arrest me. Would you—“
His eyes widened and his jaw dropped. In slow motion, I saw his unseen opponents take advantage of the distraction and move in. A rapier went through his side and I felt a dull pain start under my ribs while the trumpcontact slipped away from me. The last I heard was a cry of pain and a heartfelt: “Shit!”

I suppressed a shiver while I put Bleys’ trump back into the pack. Damn my stupid father, he had to be arrogant and take a trumpcall while fighting! And me, why had I not called Random? Random is always in his study. I had thought about trumping my sister Yaslin but I was afraid she would take a sword or an army and invade Galoria instead of telling Random and kicking up a ruckus. I handed my trumpdeck over to the captain.
“We shall write out a receipt,” he said.
“You’d better.”
“If you would come with us..?”

Estefan and I were led out of the ballroom. At the end of the hall Estefan’s guards led him down a different corridor, so I dug in my heels and made them stop.
“I would like to register that this person,” I pointed at Estefan, “is under the official protection of lady Boadice of Amber, in her position as a member of the royal house of Amber and duchess of the Carth Islands.”
That marked him as my property, and hopefully would keep Monias from treating him too badly. If he did, I now had the right to complain. It also meant that I was partially responsible for his actions, but I felt I owed Estefan at least that much.
“Your protection has been registered,” the captain said. I was giving him a lot of trouble but he seemed glad I had not tried to fight my way out.
Why, oh why had Monias suddenly decided to arrest me? It didn’t matter; they couldn’t keep me here anyway. The charges were ludicrous! And these guards were Chaosians so I couldn’t just down a few and run off. Besides, escaping meant admitting guilt.

. . . _ . . .

Estefan was led away and the guards took me to a room to be searched. The trumps that I wore on my wrists were taken from me and put into my trumpdeck. The guards were very thorough and made notes of everything they saw and took. When I decided to be difficult and demanded to be searched by a woman, one of them shifted under my eyes into a female shape. I protested that it was not the same. Another guard left the room and after a moment a woman in a guard’s uniform came in. ‘His’ clothes still buttoned left over right so I wasn’t fooled, but I had been enough of a bother for today and let it be. They were Chaosians, and full shapeshifters, and Chaosians have no taboos about nudity. Where did Monias get them? After being searched, I was taken to a comfortable, well furnished room and locked in.

I stood there, breathing deeply and rubbing my hands. Why was I not angrier? Perhaps I was wrung out; the terrifying capture of the Flying Egg had been less than an hour ago. Also: the old Boadice would have trashed this place. Maybe the new Boadice realised she would have to live with the rubble? I smiled at myself. Was I really changing? Underneath the anger, I found I was more amused than afraid. The accusation of espionage was ludicrous and could be easily be gainsaid. Also, there is a kind of freedom in captivity. I would not have to face Ornach, or deal with Gran and Trisha, or with the chaos in the world. I was locked away and safe. Some good might even come of it when Monias realised that his situation was impossible. He could not keep me locked up - with Ornach demanding his secretary back and Amber gathering their armies to redress a wrong to a member of its Royal Family. I felt Random owed me that much, with the Hywara thing still unpaid for and with Llewella just delivered safely back into the bosom of the Family. And even if my king did not feel that way, he could not ignore the political insult Galoria’s actions implied. I might even get an official apology out of it if I played my cards right.

Like every prisoner since the dawn of time, I set out to explore my prison. It appeared I got the most luxurious accommodations Galoria had to offer its involuntary guests: never before had I been incarcerated in a style this grand. I had not one but a set of rooms, all of them furnished opulently with carved wood furniture. There was a noticeable lack of the usual pink, blue and gilded cupids in the décor, I noticed with satisfaction. The dark flagstones were made snug with carpets and the walls were decorated with tapestries and paintings in ornate gilded frames. I had a tiled bathroom with gold taps and a bedroom with a great canopied bed. In a walk-in closet I found scores of beautiful dresses. I am of average build so with a tuck here and a pin there most of them would fit me very well. The drawing room held a grand piano and a bookcase that contained everything from trashy romances to a mathematical textbook and a religious biography. This would do very well, o yes!

Despite its obvious qualities, my luxurious jail had one large drawback: it did not have any windows. I could understand they would want to keep their shapeshifting prisoners inside, but they could at least have set a heavy glass pane into the wall. I would have liked to see the blue sky. After days and days inside, I found I missed the warmth of a sun and the feeling of wind on my face. I had been looking forward to my flight back to chaos, not in the Flying Egg but on my own wings, with the warmth of honest exercise in my blood. But it was not to be, not yet.

Under the door to my prison there was a crack through which I could see a little light. A very good shapeshifter could have oozed through it. I had no such skill so it was of no use to me, but there were guards outside, probably the same Chaosians I had met earlier. Monias obviously took no chances. I got up and found myself a chair. Once comfortably seated, I concentrated to see if I could find out how Galoria was going to keep me from shadowshifting. There was a lot of Nexus power around, probably in the walls. That would be adequate to keep me from shifting away: Alexander had already demonstrated to me the insulating properties of the Nexus. Carefully, I started to construct a mental trump of my sister Yaslin. It was just starting to take shape when something happened to the mental image: it started to flicker and throw blue sparks. I tried again near the gap above the threshold but the same thing happened. Bugger. I took a tissue and with an eyebrow pencil I wrote on it:
‘Dear Yaslin. Galoria has imprisoned me on suspicion of espionage. I was brought here by Alexander and only spent about five seconds in their ballroom, --‘ That filled the tissue so I threw it away and started another.
‘Dear sis. Been imprisoned in Galoria. Alexander’s doing. Suspicion of espionage. Am completely innocent. Please inform Random and make racket. Yours, Boadice.’
I tied the tissue to a small bottle of perfume and sat down to try again.

The blue light effects still disturbed my attempts at trumping. A glittering field of blue surrounded my mind and kept me from establishing contact. I tried to find a weak spot but could not find one. When I pushed against the field, it pushed back in more than equal measure, moving in and constricting me. When I stopped, it backed off and let me breathe, but it came back as soon as I tried again. Pulling at it instead of pushing had no effect, nor had concentrating my efforts in one point to pierce it.

No pattern, no trump (the two are more or less the same anyway), and no shapeshifting. Magic then. I would use magic to find the barrier’s weak spot and try to get my message-attached-to-a-bottle through to my sister. I took a candle from its holder (my rooms were lit by both candles and magical lights) and made a start to ensorcel the flame. As soon as I took hold of the first pinch of power, an alarm bell rang. The door flew open, hit the wall with a crash, and half a score of guards ran in. I looked up with my most injured haughty stare.
“Milady,” one of the guards said, slightly out of breath, “You are not allowed to use magic.”
”Then you make sure this letter reaches my sister.” I snapped and handed him the tissue and bottle. “And get me some decent stationary.”
The guard read the tissue.
“I am sorry milady.” he said, “we cannot allow this message to go out this way.”
“Then you should—“
“You can register a petition to send a message to your family. You will need to get permission from the King to do so.”
“How long will that take?” I asked.
“The King will come and visit you when he finds the time.”
I started a tirade about how unjustly I had been treated and that they could not do this, that the charges were trumped up and ludicrous and that it would cause a political incident of—“
The guard stood his ground and said I could register a complaint with the King if I found I was being ill treated.
I grumbled and complained and in the end I ordered the guards out of my room. They bowed stiffly and left. Well, that had not made me popular with my jailers. And I thought I was learning to control my temper!

No trumps, no magic, no shapeshifting, no normal means. It occurred to me that I had not tried to use the Pattern plainly so I tried that, and after a great deal of effort I had gathered a small amount of Pattern Power and held it in my mind. When I opened my eyes to try and use it, I saw the room was pulsating with blue Nexus light. It moved in and made me feel very claustrophobic. Quickly, I let the power slip from my mind. I did not wish to leave anyway, even if I could, and I wanted to use political means and clear my name before I left Galoria. I also wanted to take Estefan with me, and gather any advantages and profit I could wring from this deal. That would teach them to mess with me.

But first: rest and relaxation.

. . . _ . . .

The shower I took was long and hot and refreshing. The Flying Egg’s humming cell had kept me clean but real water on my skin made me feel for the first time in days as if I had really washed. I had cut my nails and was moisturising my skin when I felt the power in the walls flare up. I put on a robe and went to the drawing room, expecting company, but no one was there. After a minute, the power flared up again. This time it was stronger and it moved in on me as if I was trying to establish trump contact. I took hold of it and started to push, trying to reach the one on the other side, but the blue barrier moved in further and pressed on my mind until I lost my breath and passed out on the sofa.

I regained consciousness after only a minute. Someone had tried to trump me and I wondered who had been kind enough to make so much effort in trying to reach me. Bleys, probably, or a cousin who needed me for something. It was nice to feel that someone cared, or at least needed me. But at the moment I was warm and comfortable and without pressing matters to attend to. If they were not careful, Galoria would have difficulty getting rid of me. I chose a book from the small library; one with a man and a woman about to engage in a passionate kiss on the cover, curled up on the sofa and started to read. After a while, I went to bed and slept.

. . . _ . . .

I had a good and long night’s rest. When I got out of the bathroom after my second shower, I found breakfast waiting for me; toast and eggs, juice and assorted dainties served on flowery porcelain. After breakfast I chose the nicest garment from the wardrobe and got dressed. The fashion in Galoria favours wide, floor length skirts and tight low-cut bodices. I took an hour to put up my hair, having nothing better to do, and was quite pleased with the result. It lacked only sunshine and birdsong to make this a perfect morning. Coffee in the garden would have been nice. With some effort I looked on the bright side: no windows meant no sense of time, and no sense of time meant no problems with shadow lag. I sat down again to read.

The heroine had just fallen in love with the muscular hero who did not realise she was the runaway daughter of his mortal enemy, when I heard a polite knock on my door. Amused, I raised my voice and bid my guest enter. Several of the red-and-yellow clad guards came in, and they informed me that the King requested my presence. Calmly, I put my book away. It was time to give the King a piece of my mind.

While I was led through the halls of the palace, I briefly considered mentally trumping someone, but the guards would probably notice. They took me to a small side room where I was made to wait. It was noon, and a hot sun shone through the windows. A lackey appeared and opened the door to another chamber. I went in.

This was a stateroom designed to impress. Symmetrically placed between two high windows stood a tall, gilded throne. On the throne sat Monias, king of Galoria. He was flanked by a couple of scribes and some grey-faced advisors but I had no eye for them. I strode up to the throne, trailing guards, strong yet graceful (I hoped) and looking splendid in dark blue and thundercloud grey. I was glad I took time to do my hair! Here stood a daughter of Amber and she was crackling with anger.

Before the throne, I curtsied only deep enough to give Monias the minimum he was due as a monarch. He stared at me, jaws set. I stared back, chin up. He had the light behind him so I couldn’t see him clearly but I still noticed that Monias was a handsome man. He had short sandy hair, high cheekbones and a steely blue stare. He also had, if I was any judge of the male figure, a broad shouldered and well-muscled body under his velvet and ermine robes. I wondered what made a man like that build himself a castle that looked as if it was made of icing sugar.

“Milady,” Monias said after a short silence. “It grieves me that we meet again under these circumstances.”
“I, too, am grieved,” I said. So there.
Monias shook his head. “Especially a lady of your reputation, it is quite inconceivable."
O goody, that meant I had a good reputation.
“I was brought here by Lord Alexander, as you well know,” I said. “And I am being held prisoner without a good reason. I find this most deplorable.”
“Without good reason?” Monias said and raised his eyebrows. His scribes scribbled.
“Without any good reason,” I said.
“You do not consider collaborating with the enemy a good reason?”
“I have not been collaborating with whatever enemy you would care to name.”
“But you did reside outside of our reality for a time.”
“I did,” I said. “This is not a crime. “
It was hard to make out Monias’ expression against the light. Also, his throne was placed on a dais so I had to look up. On the bright side: it meant that I was well lit and Monias had a good view of my cleavage. Showing a bit of skin always gives a woman a tactical advantage.
“So you claim,” Monias said. “You realise of course that there are only two ways to leave this reality. One way is under our supervision, the other is by the hands of our mortal enemies. Seeing you have not travelled via our means, you must be in league with our enemies.”
“I do not consider this a valid argument.”
“We are convinced it is.”
“Your argument is based on false premises,” I said, hoping I was using the word ‘premises’ correctly.
“You could try to convince us. What were you doing there?”
I might as well show willing.
“I got there by accident,” I said.
“By accident...”
“By falling through a hole in reality.”
Okay, that did sound suspicious. But stranger things had happened.

“A hole in reality,” Monias said. “Well well. And where, may I ask, did you find this hole? We are always interested in such interesting phenomena.”
Bother. This like was my fight with Deirdre all over again. How I could be informative about what happened to me without mentioning Overshadow? I ehm’d and ahm’d and told him I could not describe the place.
“I’m listening?” Monias said.
“I’m thinking?”
I could use the Abyss as an excuse; it was more or less common knowledge among the knowledgeable that the Abyss manifests itself in all realities, thereby connecting them. But a good lie is based on at least a bit of truth so my story would be even more unbelievable. Besides, claiming to have fallen into the Abyss would make me look incredibly stupid. What then? Tir-na Nog’th? That was a better kept secret, as far as I knew.
Monias mistook my silence for obstinacy.
“You refuse to speak?”
“I do not refuse to speak,” I said, “I refuse to explain.”
“Very well.”

This ‘very well’ did not sound as if he meant it.
“You see, I don’t know how to explain—“
“Have a try, I am not unintelligent.”
“The problem is,” I said, “I do not quite understand myself. I was seeking Ornach’s daughter Malketh, and she disappeared? No, that is not right either?”
“There is, of course, a way to settle this matter,” Monias said. “There is a way to determine if you are connected to our enemies or not.”
“Please explain this way to me,” I said. “I am most interested.”
“You will have to open your mind to our—“
I laughed out loud. That was out of the question. No one of my Family, and no-one of the Courts, Sherwyn or even Galoria would voluntarily submit to such an invasion of life and privacy.
“Let’s not do that,” I said, smiling.
“Very well,” Monias said. He snapped his fingers and his guards led me back to my comfy prison.

. . . _ . . .

Thus started the second part of my imprisonment. Halfway through the first day, my room was cleaned by a flight of pink-winged pixies. The guards politely insisted I sat down and stayed in my chair while the pixies worked. I took the opportunity to ask them who they were and where they came from. There were three of them, two men and one woman, and they were very kind and polite. And lo and behold, they told me they were Lore, Brett and Raven of the house of Hendrake. Lord Alexander, my cousin, had helped them and their kin find a new home in Galoria when they were forced to leave the Courts. The Hendrakes, I remembered, had recently split up over internal differences. One half had followed a Hendrake named Pardai on to a conservative, warlike course, and the other half had gathered under the leadership of an old diplomat named Mithrango. The girl Alexander had been courting - what’s her name, Vanessa - was part of Mithrango’s group, and Alexander had kept his ties with her side of the family. Through him the Ex-Hendrakes had acquired their present noble status in Galoria, and they were quite happy with their situation and very grateful to Monias for giving them this chance to build a new life. I could not discover what had forced them to leave the Courts of Chaos, apparently it was a sensitive or embarrassing issue.

Even though I was a prisoner and they were my guards, we chatted quite amiably. They said it was an honour to guard such a high born lady like me. Despite myself, I was quite flattered. I did not know I had such a good reputation in the Courts. Of course I had always taken care to stay on the good side of public opinion, but so far only out of force of habit. Perhaps I could use this to good effect sometime?
“The man who was with me,” I asked, “What has happened to him?”
“He has been thrown into the dungeons, of course,” the female guard said. “He was also charged with espionage, as you know. He is obviously of the Enemy.”
“No,” I said, “it only seems that way because he is from another reality.”
I wondered if I was giving away too much, but reflected anyone could have gotten as much and more out of Estefan at the drop of an iron maiden.
“It could be that he has misled you?” Raven suggested.
“We find it highly unlikely,” one of the male guards, Lore, added, “that a lady of your blood and history has had anything to do with this. But the King wants to make certain you are not allied with our enemies before he can release you, surely you understand that? Could you not be a bit more, er, co-operative?”
“I can’t,” I said with a sigh. “I am bound by ties of duty and discretion.”
My guards understood. I had my duties, just as it was their duty to guard me.
“But,” I said, “Is it absolutely necessary I stay in these stuffy chambers all the time? Could I be allowed to take some exercise on the grounds, perhaps under supervision?”
They said they would ask their king.

For the second time, I tried to find out how Estefan was being treated. According to my Hendrakes, he was put in the more traditional holding cells of the castle: in the dungeons. But they were sure he would have at least water and bread to eat and straw to lie on. I objected and insisted Lord Estefan was highly regarded in his own reality. When they asked for his rank, I fibbed and upgraded my friend to a count who would need accommodation according to his status. The guards said they would pass the information on.

. . . _ . . .

When my room was clean I was left to my own devices again. Seas of time and freedom, but what to do with them? I read some more and played the grand piano. I was never more than a skilled amateur but I enjoyed playing. While I was playing, someone tried to trump me but it did not last long. I switched to practicing scales.
When the second trumpcall came, it was much more insistent. After the initial blue-tinted pressure, the Nexus force field came on full charge and made further music impossible. I took myself to the sofa to wait the trumpcall out but it went on and on until the pressure on my head and lungs became unbearable. I passed out, but in the split second before I lost consciousness, I saw the dark face of my cousin Murlas.

When I woke up, I found Murlas had spoiled both my taste for music and my temper. WHY would he need me so urgently he would spend so much effort in trying to trump me? What did the bastard want from me? It seemed life went on without me and perhaps I should go back to Pattern Politics and the Ways of the Worlds sooner than I’d like. But how? I rung for dinner and settled in front of the fireplace for a good long think. I would have had it too, with brilliant plans as a result, had not my meal been delivered with a side offer of one of Galoran’s grey-faced advisors. The man kept insisting I elaborate on my story of that morning. I would not, of course. Any details, I said, I would only divulge to my monarch, and it would be up to King Random to decide how much of that information would be shared with King Monias. The man whined and insisted but I didn’t lose my temper, I am quite proud of that. After a while, the man left. Perhaps he was a trump artist, send to get an impression of me so he could draw my trump. Or maybe he had been a professional interrogator, master of reading subtle meanings and unspoken truths in my words and reactions. Or maybe he was just a clerk, sent to keep up the pretence of rightful incarceration of a suspected spy. I could not care less.

The visit had thrown my thoughts off track, though. I kept thinking of Monias’ steely grey eyes. What was he thinking? Why this fairy tale palace? Why the gnomes and pixies for servants? The little winged elves did not seem overly gifted with intelligence. Yes, he had the Ex-Hendrakes and probably other immigrants; I had caught glimpses of the samurai and black-clad ninja’s that had been brought here by Alexander, but what possessed the man to mix those different peoples in this way? Alexander’s easterlings did not even wear the red-and-gold of the castle Guards, nor did the cut and style of their clothing fit their surroundings. Was it a pragmatic disregard for style? A love of contrasts? Was it his sense of humour?

Would I ever find out? Once, months ago, Monias must have thought of me and wondered what kind of wife I would make. The call for marriage candidates had been a ruse, he had already chosen Felicia Wysternion (Myrthe’s mother) as his bride. But at the time of the great Ball, Felicia was nowhere to be found so he must have considered runners up. Even though I had never really been put forward as a candidate, I had been the only reasonable candidate from Amber’s side. Random had left the issue open but the Aunts were too old and crafty and my nieces too young and inexperienced. I don’t think there is one among them who is a day over thirty, except maybe Melusine. I heard rumours that Felicia had been found and rescued but it was also whispered that she had gone through some kind of ordeal that had left her bereft of her wits. So as far as I knew, Monias wasn’t involved with anyone.

But interesting rumours aside, it was time to leave. This had gone on long enough. How to get out, now? Monias’ accusation of espionage was ridiculous, and in the long run invalid, especially if Random and Ornach would start to demand their niece freed, respectively their secretary back. Ornach did not know where I was but he soon would, if he had even a single spy in Galoria. Random would know if Bleys had told him, and his spies could confirm it. But I could not wait for that. Also, I wanted to get something out of this if I could. What did Monias want? Estefan’s Nexus drive had obviously scared him, but it would take him no time at all to discover that Estefan was not connected to our enemy. All he would have to do is ask Alexander, or put Alex in Estefan’s cell and have him ask:
“Well, Estefan, what’s all this with this Nexus driven ship, then?”
Alex would need six scribes to keep up with Estefan’s detailed technical answers.

No, he had thrown us in jail out of a panic reaction to the Nexus drive. If it had been only Estefan, Monias could have taken him and dealt with my friend any way he wanted, but he could not do that with me. Now he was stuck with both of us. Perhaps I could offer him an honourable way out? If I assumed Monias wanted info on the Nexus drive and how dangerous it was to our reality, I could help him get that, as long as Amber got the same information. Come to think of it, I did not like the idea of shadow people getting their hands on Estefan’s Pattern toys, nor did I want Galoria to have them.

Yes, that is what I would propose to Monias: a research co-operation between Galoria and Amber. The two kingdoms had co-operated before and shared that bloke who had made the anti-power collars I had worn in Hywara; they could do so again. Estefan's nexus findings would belong to Galoria and his Pattern toys would be Amber’s. I would convince Estefan to cooperate, he had come here to do research anyway, and I would forgive Galoria the treatment I received here and stop being a nuisance. I could even add my own knowledge to Estefan’s. Amber and Galoria would need everything they could get their hands on in the battle against our Enemy from Outside.
Yes, that was what I would propose. And if in the mean time I could get my hands on Monias’ well-muscled body, so much the better. Bedding a king, now that would show Gran!

I had the feeling it had gotten late. It’s a disadvantage of getting used to frequent shadow travel; I easily adapt to different time rates but without external clues I quickly lose track of what time of day it is. For long journeys I rely on my periods to tell me how many months have passed. Thinking of periods… The last time Gran and I made love was… It happened one morning, did we have our fight the following afternoon? I went to Amber, spent an afternoon in the Carth Islands and a night in Tir-na Nog’th, had to wait another day to get from TNN to overshadow, maybe… That’s a little more than two days. I spent some time in Overshadow and an afternoon, or was it a morning, in that mirror universe. I was unconscious for a while in Sherwyn, call it half a day if you include my fight with Deirdre and my search for Llewella, no, that must have been a day altogether. That’s four and a half days, call it five to be sure. I went to amber, had my fight with Gran because in the Courts six months had passed, went straight on to Chaos, spoke with Ornach and went back to Overshadow. Call that another half day, eight to twelve hours. Then I fell through the hole, spent about 10 days in Estefan’s flying egg, then 2 days here. That makes seventeen-and-a-half days since possible conception, call it between fifteen and eighteen. I am not officially late yet, to be sure I will have to wait and see.

. . . _ . . .

I got up and started preparing for bed. I had not mentioned it before, but during the last half hour of my musings and ponderings, the Nexus defence in my room had flared up several times. It had given me strange tingly feelings that were different from the pressure the Nexus security had put on me before. This time, it had been an occasional pins-and-needles prickling, gone as soon as it started. But now I was up and moving, it came back stronger than before.

The walls had started to pulsate blue again, just like the time when I had gathered Pattern energy to me, and I stopped unlacing my shoes. Without warning, the room around me faded and I looked into a wide dark space. Under my feet I glimpsed silver lines. That lasted for only a heartbeat and then the blue pulsing was back, now steady and rhythmical. Was this normal for Nexus? I could not tell, someone was doing something. Perhaps Bleys or Ornach were trying something with magic? The pulsing went on; blue, dark, blue, dark, I heard a voice in my head:
“Push, now!”
I timed my pushing with the pulsing of the power and felt the pressure build around me. This time the Nexus didn’t restrain me as it had before. Something seemed to give. I pushed harder. Then something tore, and I heard a door behind me open and voices call:
“My lady!” but I pushed for one last time and something parted and let me through, and I found myself in the darkness I had been reaching for.

It took my eyes some time to adapt, and them some, and after long moments I realised they could not adapt further because there just wasn’t much to see in the gloom. Nothing, except for the thin silvery lines of a large pentagram stretching out around me and five blue-burning candles that stood at its every corner. Whoever had summoned me could see me, but I could see nothing outside my dim circle of light. The pentagram looked like a classical design and I guessed that, if I’d try to leave, it would hiss and throw up sparks. I might as well try it out. Carefully, I stuck out a toe and touched a silver line.
It went ‘ksssst!’ and threw up sparks. My foot looked weird: it was the long black shape of my Chaosform, festooned with rags of my velvet slipper. The rags of my dress hung from my sharp and tall chaos body. Darn, it had been the nicest dress in the closet.
“Hello, is anybody there?” I called out to the darkness.

“By the power of the Pentacle, I call thee Boadice…” a voice boomed.
“Yea, right,” I said. I was not worried yet, even though the voice did not sound like Bleys or Ornach.
“What do I call you, over there?”
“-Knowing thy name, thou art in my power-“ the voice went on, and I thought: “We’ll see about that!”
In my years in shadow I have encountered magic wards of all kinds, and they usually melt like candyfloss in the rain before the power of the Pattern. This one, when I touched it with my toe, had felt like it was backed up with Logrus, so in the end it would probably be a contest of wills between me and the one who kept me in. But I wanted to talk first, there would be time enough for hostilities later.

I heard a sound of a book slamming shut. A throat was cleared.
“Can you hear me?” the voice asked in far more normal tones. It sounded like it belonged to an old but not ancient man.
“Yes, I can hear you.”
“Yes, you see, those were the last phrases from the ritual. My excuses, it’s traditional and I wanted to finish off neatly. It’s just as well I remembered you are also a demon, it’s quite handy.”
“O,” I said. “Who are you?”
“What does it matter? The man sounded suddenly weary. “Call me Malachie.”
My mouth fell open.
“I have been looking for you for a long time,” he said, “You are very difficult to get hold of.”

I could have said the same about him, and told him so. I asked if he would mind lighting another lamp because I wanted to see what he looked like.
‘Ehmmm, that won’t be necessary,” Malachie said. “I would like to speak with you first.”
I reminded myself that I had only his word that he was who he said he was. But even if he would show himself, I did not know what Malachie looked like. So never mind.

I made myself comfortable on the ground. The floor was a smooth black stone and the pentagram left enough room to sit down comfortably. Now I was closer to the lines, I noticed that the Logrus in them was different from the Logrus I knew. It somehow seemed wilder, more untamed, if such a thing was possible. I filed the thought away for later contemplation.

“Do you mind if I shift back?” I asked. “Do you have some spare clothes around?”
“Don’t bother,” Malachie said, and I noticed I could not shapeshift, possibly a function of the demon-containing pentagram. Darn, that meant no female charms to call upon.
“According to tradition you are now in my power and have to carry out a quest of my choice—“
“I guess so…” I said.
“—but maybe I should seek your co-operation in another way.” Malachie sounded weary again.

“Did you know I have been looking for you too?”
“Why?” Malachie asked immediately, weariness gone. Could it be he felt… threatened?
“An acquaintance of yours, who is an acquaintance of mine, too, has—“
“Who?” he interrupted.
“She calls herself Orchis.”
Malachie was silent for a moment.
“I assumed you and her were on friendly terms,” I said.
“She belongs to the enemy,” Malachie said sadly.
“What enemy?”
Now I had annoyed him.
“Could it be that you still don’t know what is going on?”
“I’m starting to get inklings,” I said, “but who you call ‘enemy’ depends on which side you are on. For Chaosites Amber is he enemy, and--“
“All that’s irrelevant,” Malachie grumbled. “Amber, Chaos, one big pile of… That’s not what this is all about.”
“We are talking about the enemy from outside our reality, aren’t we?” I asked. I had suspected this from the start but had needed to know where he stood.
“Exactly.”
“And Orchis has sided with them?”
“When all is said and done, she is one of them, yes. Just like Ornach and the rest of his family.”

I fidgeted inside the pentagram. His story was hard to believe, but not impossible. I needed to know more.
“How did you come to that conclusion?”
“I hear things.”
Malachie sounded sad.
“It is important for me to know, considering my ties to lord Ornach—“
“Yes, you work for him,” Malachie interrupted. “That is a problem. Many have given up on you because of that.”
“Given up on me as what, to do what?”
“Given up on you because you work for the enemy. But I wanted to give you another chance, I did not know if you had knowingly sided with the enemy or not.”

“And… Now you know?”
I wished I could see Malachie’s face.
“That remains to be seen.” He sounded stern. “Your actions will speak for you.”
I hoped this was not going to turn into some kind of trial, I never do well at those.
I said:
“So far I have seen Ornach do no… Have not seen him take actions that could be detrimental to this reality. This in contrast with what the army from Outside has done.”
“I think you don’t see that there is more behind it all,” Malachie said. “Ornach is not from this reality. He is… He stands in the realities like someone from Amber or Chaos stands among the Shadows. And his conflict with the other party is a conflict of an order in which our reality will be reduced to a chance meeting place, a battleground. None of them have any interest in preserving this place. It is not important to them. Archai don’t think like we do. They have no ties to this reality.”

Two weeks ago I would not have believed a word of what he said. But through the windows of Flying Egg I had seen our reality from the outside, and that had put things in perspective. But, Ornach..? He was not so different from the other Chaosites, was he? The most impressive power I had seen him use was his remarkable ability to manipulate the Court’s political system and acquire himself a hotly contested seat in the Major Council. And Taureth had hidden Ornach Ways away before he was imprisoned, and had reassembled it afterwards. Those Shadows had gone undetected for millennia, and some of the parts bordered on the Abyss, which is prime property around there…

“What was the word you just used?”
“Archai. A name for beings like Ornach.”
“For some reason,” I said, “I think I believe you.” I was silent for a while.
“And what is your role in it?”
Malachie sighed.
“I am not important. Not anymore. I am old, that’s all.”
He had not sounded very old, only tired at times, but when he went on he sounded like he had seen millennia go by.

“I have seen Ornach arrive… He came from outside. Without memory, or so he claimed. He married one of us, and she bore him children. But they were all strange. We now know he was a Wolf. We had hoped that he wasn’t but he is.”
“A Wolf?”
“A predator. You can always tell a predator from the way he looks at his prey.”
“And… We are important enough to serve as prey?”
Echo’s of my former apprehensions came back to me. In the Flying Egg I had mused about the possibility of being one among many, lowly like a shadowbeing. To have it confirmed chilled me to the bone. Lowly, me…?
“Who shall say?” Malachie said. “Maybe we are nothing to the Archai, maybe we are prey. Ornach has proven himself a predator when he attacked the Serpent.”
“An action that lead to what we know now as the legend of Dworkin and..?“
“Dworkin eventually took off with the eye,” Malachie interrupted. “But it was Ornach who stole it, who did the work. Dworkin was just his assistant.”

“Is this information first hand?” I asked. It sounded like slander from a Chaosite.
“I was not there, but I was involved,” Malachie said. “Ornach wanted to make a place for himself. He was not like us, he was always looking for something else. And… Dworkin was his student. Dworkin always sought out things that were different. He wanted to know more about Ornach, wanted to posses his powers, his resources. Dworkin always sought out Power, it fascinated him. With hindsight, we realised… We don’t know who initially contacted the Unicorn. Legend has it that she had been asleep for a long time, and that She had fought with the Serpent in the beginning of Time. The Unicorn was wounded and it is said that Dworkin woke her. If it was him or someone else, I don’t know. In a bloody ritual they managed to heal Her. They took the lives of twelve of our sons and daughters to give her back her strength. Then Ornach and Dworkin took off with the eye of the Serpent, after a confrontation between the Unicorn and the Serpent that the Serpent lost.”

“Wait, slow down, please. The Unicorn was wounded, and asleep, and—“
This must be a lie! Our granddaddy, dear old fuddy-duddy Dworkin, creator of the Pattern and Ultimate Artist, a traitorous sorcerous apprentice who would sacrifice a dozen lives to wake the Unicorn?

“Dworkin and Ornach fled with the eye,” Malachie went on, “It was then that Dworkin betrayed Ornach, which put him in our hands. We of the Courts were faced with the choice whether to side with Dworkin for the moment or not, and we did so because Ornach was the more important. In the end, Dworkin betrayed us both, he betrayed Ornach AND fled with the eye, and made Amber. It cannot be denied, he was brilliant. And he did it: he bound the forces in the Eye, and together with the Unicorn he founded Amber and drew the Pattern.”
Malachie sighed.
“And we had Ornach put... away. We could not kill him, it was not possible. The rest of this history is better known. His children tried to free him, and that led to another war…”
“The Second War of the Eye,” I said. (Or was it the First? No, the First was when Ornach and Dworkin stole the Eye. It was at the end of the Second War that Ornach’s children were imprisoned in their fabulous black-and-white trumps. Was that one not called ‘the war of the children’? Come to think of it, I never got the chance to study those black-and-white cards.)

Malachie was quiet and gave me time to think. I needed all the time he gave me. Ornach from outside our reality? That was possible, but he did not seem so very different from the rest of us. Malachie had said that Ornach could not die, that he was impossible to kill. That is one step above the agelessness and recuperative powers of Amberites. Absolute true immortality, imagine that…It was frightening.
“Your story has made quite an impression on me,” I confessed. “And now you have summoned me to see how far gone I am in my collaboration with the enemy?”
“Your position is unique,” Malachie said. “At this moment you are closer to Ornach and his children than anyone else. He trusts you, more or less. We don’t know what is going on between Ornach and Lothair at this moment, we don’t know what form their confrontation is going to take.”
“Who is Lothair?” I asked.
“The other Archai.”
“Ornach’s opponent in the battle?”
“The opponent. Lothair has initiated the conflict. His conflict is with Ornach, that we know, but neither will hesitate to sacrifice the rest of our world if it brought them victory. That is the danger that threatens us; they don’t care about the destruction they cause. What does it matter if this reality is destroyed, when there are plenty more for them.”

It all rang true, so true. Ornach would have no love for this reality. He spent some time in it, I don’t know how much, and he had his children here, but that must fade to nothing compared to the length of time he was imprisoned by the Chaosites. Ornach never spoke to me of that time but I remembered the blood on him when I first met him in the Fixed Logrus. He wore the shackles on his wrists and ankles. They had worn into his flesh, and trailed long thick lengths of chain. No, Ornach would have no love for this reality. His children might, though, they spent all their lives here, and some of them we have befriended. Samal even took my cousin Murlas for his lover, which among other things shows that there is no accounting for taste. Taureth seems happy, and Malketh has made a good life for herself in Overshadow. Wait! Was Overshadow not defined as ‘the space between realities’? Perhaps Malketh-as-Orchis knew more about what was going on. She had allied herself with that green-clad woman, Viridiane. What was she doing, what were her plans? Where are Ornach’s other children; he had seven and so far we have only found four. How many of the people I met in Overshadow come from different realities than ours? My head felt crammed with questions.

“I am asking you now,” Malachie said, “to use your position.”
“This I will certainly do,” I said, “even without a promise to you. This is, after all, my home. But you must understand that I have sworn a certain measure of loyalty to Ornach, and I will not break my oath, not without a very good reason.”
“When that time comes, you will have to make your own choices.”

I sat there, silent. Ornach and Dworkin and the Unicorn and realities and war and destruction… Malachie gave me time to think. This whole universe was in deep shit, and so was I.
“I would like to thank you for leaving the choice to me,” I said, “Considering the gravity of the situation.”
“It is a choice that will carry many consequences. There will be a moment in which your loyalty, or your lack of it, will have great consequences for you. As much as they can, anyone who cares about this reality will be drawn into this conflict. And people, those who are near Ornach, will suffer in the process. It is your choice, but I will give you this warning: maybe your choice will not be as free as you think.

This sounded ominous, almost like a prophecy.
“Could you tell me more about that?” I said.
“Some will go by the axiom that who is not with us, is against us. You are known to have close ties to Ornach.”
“Who else knows about these layers of the conflict, so I take their attitudes into account?”
“It is not up to me to tell you that,” Malachie said. “I have chosen to tell you about this conflict because I wanted to give you this choice, and because I believe there are options open to you. Others will believe it would be better to kill you out of hand rather than give you enough information to make an informed choice.”
“I thank you for this,” I said.

I did appreciate not being killed, I really did. And getting information that was vital for my survival without having to pester people for it also made a refreshing change.

“If I’m allowed to get back to a previous subject; Ornach’s children hail from this reality. Considering their actions so far, it seems possible to me that—“
“We don’t know where Ornach’s children stand in this,” Malachie said. “They seem to have one foot in this reality and one foot outside. They have strange powers, and if they don’t they posses the potential for them. In principle they are Archai, we think. But it is unclear where they stand. We think they will side with their father.”
“Orchis’ actions, so far, seem to indicate the opposite.” I objected. My eyes hurt from staring into the darkness.
“When all is said and done, Orchis is her father’s daughter. Malketh is her name.”

I knew that.
“Can you tell me more about her powers, what they do, so I can be prepared?”
Malachie said he could not. It all amounted to the fact that the Archai had a control over our reality that we do not posses because they are outside of it, while we have our roots and Power sources inside our reality.
“We think Ornach has many more powers and resources he has not showed yet. He has fought the Serpent.”

“At the risk of sounding metaphysical,” I said, “how do beings like the Unicorn and the Serpent compare to those Archai, power wise?”
I just LOVED being able to ask questions and getting answers.
“The Unicorn and the Serpent are very much of this reality,” Malachie said. “In a way. Every reality contains a part of the unicorn. According to legend, the Unicorn fought the serpent at the beginning of time, and the serpent broke the Unicorn. That is how every reality contains a part of the unicorn.”

Did Malachie mean that the Unicorn had been… shattered somehow and every reality contained a shard of her? I knew of a reality with a black Unicorn, and we had a white Unicorn, and… A pink unicorn passed before the eyes of my imagination, and a royal blue one… Herds of pale green, corn yellow, brown, beige, grey and orange unicorns pranced and reared in my mind, and I knew that soon I would have to paint a very sacrilegious picture. No, Boadice, not now. Keep your mind on the matter at hand. Besides, you don’t have time to paint.

“And the Serpent?” I asked.
“Order has many forms,” Malachie said. “There is only one Serpent, and It manifests Itself in each of the Unicorn’s realities. In every reality where a Pattern was created, that pattern took the attributes of one of the aspects of the Unicorn. As you said, it is very metaphysical. And it has no bearing on our problems.”
Probably not, but you never knew.
“And the Nexus is another power like---?”
“The Nexus is an older Power, older than the Unicorn and the Serpent. The Unicorn is to the Serpent what the Serpent is to the Nexus.”
“Unicorn, Serpent, I can imagine something to go with it all; a horse with a horn and a snaky thing. Is there something like that for the Nexus?”

Malachie snorted, and for the first time I heard something like a smile in his voice.
“Do you think I know everything? I have lived a long time but not that long.”
“So the Nexus came before the---?”
“That is all I know, girl! And I don’t know the power by that name, the Nexus is a newer version of an older power, or so I have heard, I was not there at the time and I don’t know if it’s true.”

Great goodness…
Seen in the light of all this new information, Dworkin’s betrayal was a bit less odious and a lot more heroic. By making the Pattern himself, he had kept the Power that ruled half of our reality out of the hands of the outsider Ornach. His double betrayal was very much in keeping with the Family tradition, too, even if the Family did not exist yet.
However discouraging the idea of not being at the top of the food chain is, we are not helpless before the Archai. No Shadowbeing has kept an Amberite prisoner like the Chaosites held Ornach. I have travelled between the realities. We know about them, we are forewarned, and we CAN win!
Or we might just survive. That would be good, too.

Did those Archai have their own power base between the multitudes of realities, an ultimate reality that’s better than ours, like Amber outshines the cities of shadow? I wondered…

. . . _ . . .

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