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The botanist

    ing Random was not behind his desk in his study, where I had expected him to be. This time, he took my trumpcall standing by a fireplace in one of the lesser sitting rooms. My uncle looked tired from the stresses of kingship, so I decided to keep my nagging to a minimum.

“Boadice?” Random said before the contact cleared.
“Hello uncle Majesty.”
While I kept my mind on the trumpcontact, I kept my eyes on my two companions. It would not do to have my less-than-perfect lawyer Yurgo Chartin take off with my friend and hard won prize; Estefan.
“Boadice,” Random said, “How did it go in Galoria? I assume you were acquitted?”
“I very much doubt it,” I said, making sure Estefan and Yurgo could not listen in, “I trumped away just before the verdict. But have you heard more about my story yet from your contacts?”
“Benedict told me a couple of things through trump. It looked like a political matter. Do you have anything to add to this?”
“You heard about Estefan and his circumstances and--?
“I heard you had taken a Nexus traveller under your protection.” Random shifted his weight and leaned against the mantelpiece, orange and brown against the grey stone.

“A Nexus traveller from a different reality, yes,” I said, to make sure he understood. Random did not even blink. I guess he knew about the recent developments in inter-reality exploration, or else he was using that famous poker face of his.
“And how did you get to meet him?” my uncle mumbled while he took a cigar from a box on the mantelpiece and lit it.
“I fell down a hole,” I said, slightly embarrassed. Here we went again.
“Where?” Puff puff.
“I will come around later and explain.”
“That’s what they all say,” Random said sharply behind a cloud of blue smoke. He waved his hands irritably, trying to see me through it.
“Before you know it, half the palace is falling down and by the time the universe has exploded people might just take a moment to drop by. If I’m lucky!”
“I have heard it all before,” Random raged on, obviously I had hit a tender spot. “But okay, all right, a hole in reality. That’s fine! Could such a hole turn up in my palace, by any chance?”

“I don’t think so,” I said, suppressing my laughter. My uncle was probably right, and people were telling him less than he needed to know to rule properly. And he could not get away to find out things himself because Amber needed her king to stay put. How had Oberon managed it? No fair, you couldn’t compare Random with his father. I almost felt sorry for my uncle. Perhaps I should tell him about my conversation with Malachie? Perhaps not.
“You haven’t made any hideously powerful constructs lately, I hope?” Random went on, “I mean, that sometimes happens, and I would appreciate being told.”

“I haven’t,” I said. “Speaking about constructs, I took Estefan away from Galoria. He is still under my protection, but in his own world he is a respected scientist. He can make things with Pattern and Nexus in them. And I suspect,” (here I checked again that Estefan and especially Yurgo could not hear me,) ”if you give him some Logrus, he can make Logrus artefacts too. That would be useful, no? I will send him to Amber, to you, and with a bit of psychological manipulation, like: ‘you need to make things to carry you home’, you can put him to work for the benefit of our beloved homeland.” I was not even being sarcastic at that last bit.

Random studied me with a suspicious air, blowing clouds of smoke into the air.
“Right. Hmmmm.”
He was obviously wondering what the price tag would say.
“And?”
“No, no charge,” I said, smiling. “Not yet. As long as I can visit him and he is not too unhappy. Find him a comfortable world, Nerd Heaven or something, with free pizza and computers.”
“With good security, of course,” Random added.
“Of course,” I agreed. Now we were getting somewhere. “And make sure Galoria or Chaos can’t get at him, then he can be of good use to us.”
Random puffed noisily on his cigar. He frowned, then smiled.
“Do you think that he can make those collars?”
“Like in Hywara? I guess so. He is a hands-on guy; you will have to put other people in his lab to take notes, people who are easy to work with. If they respect him, he can—“
“Yes yes, very well. I will see him when he gets here,” Random said.
“I can trump him through to you right now,” I said. That seemed to surprise my king.
“Yes, you see, I have got my lawyer right here and he is a Chaosite, and I trust him as far as I can throw him.”
Random smiled. “You have not been working out, lately?”
I smiled back at him.
“Just make sure Estefan is comfortable, please. I will come over and visit him soon.”
“We shall see,” Random said. That was not what I wanted to hear.

“No, we shall not see,” I said. “You’re not going to chain him to a wall—“
“If he is amenable I won’t need to,” Random said. “Just put him through, will you, I can always use more specialists.”
“Random,” I said, seriously, “I put my ass on the line for this. And I gave Estefan my word that he is under my protection. You will not take advantage of him.”
I heard what I had been saying and added:
“Okay, we are going to take advantage of him, but not so that he will notice, right?”
“Good, fine, I have no problems with that.” Random flicked the ashes of his cigar into the fireplace. He was smiling. “Just stop by and look at what I have arranged, or come and make a shadow for him yourself—“
“I can’t,” I said. “I will come to Amber as soon as I can, but I have to see Ornach first.”
I beckoned Estefan. Curious, he came, and I put my hands on his shoulders.

“Estefan, I am going to send you to Amber. You can ask for sanctuary there. Maybe, if you apply yourself, you will be able to convince king Random of your qualities as a scientist.”
“I tried that in Galoria,” Estefan said unhappily, “and it didn’t work.”
So that was what they had done to him.
“I understand,” I said, “but this time is different. You and Random will get on fine, I promise. Have a glass of whiskey, err, cola with him—“
“Cola,” Estefan nodded—“
“-and if you can impress him with your scientific excellence, you might be able to get a research grant.”
Estefan perked up.
“A research grant? He sponsors?’
“He does,” I said. All through this little conversation, I had kept the trumpcontact with Random open. I could feel my king watching and listening in.
“A sponsor,” Estefan said happily. “That is good news.”
I let go of Estefan’s shoulder and enhanced the trump contact until it was a shimmering doorway.
“Be careful, my friend,” I said, and I hugged him. “Good luck, and give Random this letter for me.”
The letter had become redundant; everything that needed to be said had been said trough trump. Ah well.

I should be careful; I had let myself get far too attached to this shadow man.
“You are not coming with me?” Estefan asked.
“I have a job in Chaos,” I said, “and I have to get back. But I will come and visit as soon as I can.”
With those words I let the trumpcontact embrace Estefan and he was gone. The contact, however, was not.
“You owe me… about three, now.” I told Random –and Random alone– as he held out his hand to welcome Estefan. Hywara was the first thing I did for him, getting Llewella’s spirit home to join her body was the second, and this was the third.
“By the way, how is Llewella doing?
“She is a bit…” Random said, “She does not speak much. She mumbles to herself but won’t explain what’s wrong. But we’re confident she will be fine, eventually. You should not reproach her for not thanking you yet, I am sure she will do so later.”
“It’s okay,” I said. “Goodbye uncle, goodbye Estefan.”
With those words I closed the contact.

. . . _ . . .

Well, there we were, under the leaves of Ygg, my Chaos lawyer and me. There was a moment of embarrassed silence. I cleared my throat.
“Lord Chartin,” I said, “I was wondering if you could shift into a shape with wings?”
Yurgo looked surprised.
“Yes, I can,” he said. “But would trumping not be the easier way to travel?”
“I have been cooped up between four walls for what seems like ages,” I said, “and I long for freedom and fresh air. I had been hoping to fly back to Chaos.”
“You are sure you won’t rather use trumps?” Yurgo asked.
“I am, I was looking forward to the exercise. But if you think—“
“Oh no, I would be honoured to accompany you, my lady.”
I smiled and nodded at him, and I went behind some bushes to change.

It was true I had been looking forward to the exercise, but I had ulterior motives for wanting to make this journey on the wing. Trumping to Chaos would be far too swift and I would not have the chance to get to know this fascinating man. He could be my next lover. Why not? Frewar once said ‘Small presents sustain a friendship’, meaning that people occasionally sleep with their acquaintances to strengthen their ties. My obstinacy in Galoria’s courtroom must have interfered with Yurgo’s mission for Ornach, but a girl can try to make amends, can’t she?

Yurgo had shifted out in the open; Chaosians are by necessity less uptight about nudity than Amberites, and o he was beautiful! A panther of matted copper sat on its haunches, staring at me with ruby eyes. Behind the panther, wings of liquid fire rose up, illuminating everything around us. My tall, sinuous, blue-black-and-silver batwing shape felt paltry in comparison.
I shifted my razorblades to reflect his light.

“How shall we travel?” I asked. “I can shadow shift the first half of the way with Pattern, perhaps you could do the latter half with Logrus when the going gets difficult for me.”
Yurgo shrugged, which looked very good in his present shape.
“Near the Courts I won’t need to use the Logrus,” he said. “The last few leagues we can travel over the shadow paths.”
“But the experience of travelling via the Logrus would be very educational for me,” I objected. “We could share the burden of travel equally?”
Listen to the subtext, brother. I show you Pattern if you show me Logrus.

“But I always use trumps to travel,” Yurgo said. It almost sounded like a whine. I could not tell if he really did not have Logrus or if he did and wanted to hide his power. It annoyed me. I could not retract my offer to do the first half of the trip, so he was getting first hand experience of Pattern travel for free. I should have handled this differently. Too late now.
So, with as good grace as I could muster I accepted his plan and we took to the air.

. . . _ . . .

In the air, I started with some light flirting. Nothing much, you know, just a tone of voice and some body language. It seemed to work; soon the atmosphere in which we flew was relaxed and sensual. The scenery helped: we soared through clouds of chocolate and gold, the light of alien suns warm upon our backs. We talked about other lands and places, and we took tea on a snowy mountaintop in the light of twelve silver moons.

He was interested. Well, I think he was but I wasn’t sure. Yurgo was very glib with his compliments but at the same time he kept his distance, and when it was time for him to make a move, he didn’t. Yurgo danced around the subject, struck the right note and then did not sing the melody. Looks and hints, that was all I got from him. He deliberately kept me guessing and that was a great disappointment. Was I not attractive? Was he afraid? Was I not worth taking a risk for? Damn him. He was giving me enough to keep going but not enough to draw a conclusion. And I felt I could not force the issue. Should I have made a more aggressive move, he would have turned it around into play and subtlety.

By the time we arrived in Chaos I was more than a little upset. To cover up my annoyance I had been obliged to continue flirting, which it was pleasant enough in its own way but I was sick and tired of men refusing to commit. Gran had dropped me when our relationship had become politically inconvenient, and now, when I tried to get my own back, have some fun and build a little self-esteem, this faggot refused to play! Life is so unfair.

. . . _ . . .

In the underwater cave that was the main entrance to Ornach ways we stopped and changed to our human forms. Just ten minutes ago when we were still flying someone had tried to trump me. I had refused the call because I could not identify the caller without my trump deck. Perhaps I should make myself that thing I had planned, the item I could hang spells in to protect my mind. In case of an emergency, a hung spell can be fired off in the blink of an eye. Whatever happened, I did not want to suffer anything like that incident with Murlas ever again. When I have the time I should make myself a talisman or something. Ornach’s library probably contained books on the subject to help me along.

We found Ornach in his study. I listened while Yurgo gave his account of what had happened in Galoria.
“Why did you not leave immediately, then?” Ornach asked me crossly when Yurgo told him about how we had trumped away before Monias pronounced the verdict.
“I will explain later,” I said. After Yurgo had left, I did.

“I’ll start with explaining what happened after I left this place a week or two ago,” I said. Ornach nodded. I then proceeded to tell him about where the trump he gave me had led me, the dragons that guarded the Black Shadows and how Overshadow had changed from the first time I travelled there with his daughter. From there, I went on to describe the hole I fell through, Ornach shook his head when he heard about that part. I described Estefan and his craft, Alexander’s tractor beam and Monias’ reaction to Estefan, the Flying Egg and me. I told Ornach about Alexander’s death threats and the trial, in fact I told him everything except my conversation with Malachie.

Ornach demanded to know what all the fuss with Estefan had been about.
“That is what I did not want to tell you while Yurgo was here. Estefan can, when he has his ship, travel outside this reality. I don’t know where your daughter went, but if she ended up outside our reality too, we might—“
“Malketh?” Ornach interrupted. “She showed up a couple of days ago. You told her to come home, didn’t you? Well, she has.”
I stammered: “Okay. Good. I thought we might need Estefan to find her, but…”
“No no, I need you to find Tiphane,” Ornach said. Tiphane was the one who liked to gather information and know things about people. Dorian had heard from someone what the children of Ornach were like, and had passed the information on to me. Tiphane’s trump was a black spider in a web.

“Tiphane,” I said. “Of course. I see. I did not know Malketh had returned already.”
In fact I was slightly disappointed that she had. Not only would I have preferred her to stay far away and free, her absence would have given me an excuse to use Ornach’s resources to steal the Flying Egg from Galoria.
“By the way,” I said, “Galoria still has my trump deck and most of my stuff. Could you arrange for someone to steal it back? My deck contains a couple of trumps of Ornach ways, you see…”
Ornach slammed the papers he had been leafing through down on his desk.
“Damn! I shall have to get more security measures installed. What rooms did you say those trumps were of?”
I described a corner of the central hall and a place in my personal apartments in Ornachways. Ornach then took a deep breath and bellowed:
“TAURETH!!!”
When the ringing in my ears had died down I said:
“I am a trump artist. My trumps are the tools of my trade and I need them all.”
“I’m not saying you won’t get them,” Ornach said, and again he shouted:
“TAURETH!!”
His son opened the door and closed it behind him, slightly breathless. He wore a brown lab coat with interesting stains and holes.
“Taureth,” his father said, “I want you to change the great hall. Completely. And—“ he looked at me, “What room was it?”
“My sitting room on the second floor,” I said. “I will move.”
“That one too,” Ornach said to Taureth. “That suite must go. And the hall too. Get rid of them, to be sure. Put some other shadows in their place.”
“Okay, dad,” Taureth said. “But I thought you liked the great hall.”
“I do,” Ornach said. “But it’s a security risk.”
Taureth nodded and left, and I said:
“But…I still would like my trumps back.”
Ornach sighed, and I told him the arguments I had been saving for when it got really difficult:
“My equipment included some evidence I collected in the search for your daughter. There were a couple of interesting things—“
“Such as?”
“Coins from a mirror reality. I would like you to take a look at those.”
Ornach grumbled. “Very well, all right. Steal them back? Where are they?”
I admitted I did not know but Galoria would have kept records, and I gave him a list of the trumps I was missing. Ornach said he would get on to it.

“Is there anything else you want to know?” I asked. He had not questioned me on what happened in Overshadow. If Bihaye was here, she would have filled him in already.
“Anything I want to know?” Ornach repeated. “Know, no, I want you to… I got a few leads on Tiphane’s trump, and I want you to check out at least one of them.”
“Other leads? What leads?”

Ornach told me how he had found out which family had originally possessed the trump, and how it had lost it under unfortunate circumstances. There were no full records, but a number of people could have gained possession of the trump. Ornach had studied old wills and deeds and had narrowed the options down to two houses. One was the house Baccaran, a powerful Major House that was currently in the running for the crown of Chaos. The house Baccaran had a well deserved reputation for shrewd negotiations, so he would speak with that house himself. The other clue led to the house of Mylor, a minor house of reduced circumstances. If House Mylor had inherited the card, it would be in the hands of the current head of the house.

“This Mylor is a sorcerer who lives in the Black Zone. I have his address. I want you to check if he has the trump, and if possible, get it from him. You know what you can offer; the goodwill of the house Ornach, blah blah blah, whatever he wants. Don’t tell him so immediately; the goodwill of this house should be enough.”
“I think,” I said, that I will check him out first.”
The words ‘sorcerer’ and ‘Black Zone’ had called forth unpleasant memories and I was less than keen to approach this Mylor without a lot of safety measures.
“I want to know where his buttons are first. Mylor, did you say?”
“That is his family name, I don’t know his first. He lives in a tower in the Black Zone shadow Glendang.”
That sounded threatening.
“He is said to be somewhat of a recluse; he has had a bit of scientific training but it doesn’t amount to much. He seems quite harmless. Money problems? No, not really. The Mylor family is neither rich nor poor.”

I am sure Ornach meant to be reassuring, but the more he told me the more I worried. This sorcerer sounded like the kind of man who brooded in secrecy over his dark experiments, luring virgins to his magic tower to do evil experiments on their young bodies. Now not even the best of liars could call me a virgin and get away with it, but I fretted nonetheless. Baby’s blood is a powerful ingredient in many spells. And besides: I did not feel like battling a master mage on his own territory. I had done that before and it had ended embarrassingly.

“It’s not a big family, so they tell me,” Ornach said. “Although lord Mylor is head of the House, he has not taken part in the Minor Counsel for ages and he has not sent a replacement either.”
I would have felt better if he had been an avid socialite with a reputation for sharp negotiations, that way I knew what I would be facing.
“Before I go,” I said, “I would like your information system to find out more about him. In fact, I am not very content with—“
“Eh eh eh,” Ornach raised a hand. “I thought I made myself clear. You’re going!”
“I will, gladly,” I protested, “but after—“
“This is what you know, work with it! If you want to investigate, do so on the spot.”
“Please, this is no way to—“
“Enough! You have all the time in the world,” Ornach thundered, “I do not. Now GO!”
“At least postpone replacing the main hall,” I said. “I will need a trump to get back.”
“Make a sketch of some other part, I don’t care,” Ornach growled. “And make sure you don’t lose it or we will have to get rid of that room too.”
“If you wish,” I sighed with the air of those unjustly put upon, “If you want me to do a rush job, I will, but don’t expect too much…”
I swept out of the room.

I had touched a nerve just yet. Ornach was really pressed for time. Was he feeling the hot breath of the Enemy down his back? Quite possible. Was he rescuing his children before his enemy could take advantage of their vulnerable state? Maybe he needed them to wage a war that would destroy this reality. Whatever it was, I wanted to gather his children as allies to my cause, whatever my cause was, so going after Bihaye’s trump was not a bad thing to do. Before I packed my sketch pad and paints, I sent a couple of detectives on their way to Glendang. Then I instructed the maids to remove my personal possessions from my suite. In a deserted hallway, I sat down to make a trump sketch.

. . . _ . . .

When the sketch was done I took a nap, showered and put on a demure but fashionable dress. The maids had packed two large trunks for all eventualities, and when I got to the stable yard my coach had been made ready. I had ordered the second best coach house Ornach possessed: a jet black vehicle, frilly in a gothic way, pulled by four wingless dragons as tall as ponies and as long as two cows. It was suitable impressive for my purposes. The coachman was a scaly hunchback, the guards I had asked for were burly and blond, and the maid and the footman wore the crest of house Ornach on their uniforms. I was set to go.

“If I’m not back in a couple of days,” I said to the captain of the guard who had come to see me off, “you know where to look for me.”
He nodded and held out his hand to help me up. Before I took it I bent down and picked eight small pebbles off the ground. Only then did I enter the coach, and the dragons crashed through the wall of fire that was the gate to Chaos’ main road.

In the coach I took out my eyebrow pencil and drew on each of the pebbles a different rune. If I still had my trumps I could have cast a trump divination. It was just my luck that my deck was gone just when I really needed all the cards. When I felt myself attuned to the magic in the pebbles, I dwelled on what I knew of this Lord Mylor. I cast the stones on a handkerchief in my lap. They did not tell me much; they seemed to suggest that there were hardly any crossings in our paths. If by that they meant Lord Mylor and I had little in common or if they meant to tell me I did not have enough information on him to do a proper divination, I could not tell. So casting the stones had been a waste of time. I would have to improvise. Lord Mylor could be the high priest of a wicked cult with an altar with blood grooves in it, or he could be a shapeshifting madman, or…
There was no way to tell.

After I had worried enough about my assignment, I fell to fretting about Yurgo and his failure to respond to my advances. What was it that Frewar had said about sexual relationships in the Courts? There were political advantages that came with trysts, and, as he said, small presents maintain a friendship. But he had also said that a little affair meant nothing, that Chaosians were very liberal about sexual affairs. You did have to be discreet, and you did have to keep up appearances, but for the rest you could more or less do what you wanted.

On the other hand, in the Djinn society I had learned that the Order of the Blue Rose was founded especially to allow its members to have sexual adventures without strings attached, political or otherwise. So there was a need for something like that. Maybe if you had trouble meeting potential partners? Maybe… No, I just didn’t know Chaos, or Yurgo, well enough to tell what I did wrong. And I should not forget that there was still a vendetta between the Chartins and me. I did not get it annulled, even when its cause: Trisha, turned out to be alive and well. I had let the vendetta stand because the idea to be able to kill a Chartin if I wanted to was pleasing in the extreme. That could be it...
The thought it might be the vendetta made me feel a lot better, but I still thought Yurgo could have taken the chance. People boink each other’s brains out over here whenever they get the chance, so why not me?
Do I smell?

. . . _ . . .

The journey to Glendang took a little longer than three turnings of the coloured sky. By the time we got there the landscape had changed and the sky was stippled yellow and green. Ornach’s people had booked rooms for me at the local inn, which turned out to be a large cavern in a village of crystal caves and towers. Everywhere I looked there were sharp edges and reflecting planes, glittering in the light of the skies. The local population looked mostly human except for their blood-red eyes and the occasional forked tail. They were friendly enough and my rooms were clean and comfortable. The sharp edges of the crystal furniture took some getting used to but a woman who can steer a crinoline skirt through a salon full of tiny tea-tables can keep her gown from snagging on the occasional sparkly spike.

I met with my contacts in the back of the common room. They did not have much information to share. What news they had was reassuring to hear; it seemed no virgins had gone missing from this area in a long time. Lord Mylor was a real recluse, it seemed, and he was said to be obsessed with some kind of research he was conducting. I asked what kind of resources he needed for his studies, and was told his assistant bought potting compost. And plants. And manure. And seedlings.
Now that was comforting news.

I sent a letter to the Mylor Tower asking for an invitation, made a sketch of the inn and trumped over to my shadow Fleur for a potted miniature rose. This might even be fun…
When that evening, under a dark-green sky without stars or moon, the answer to my letter came, I was ready for everything. The letter informed me that the lord regretted he could not receive me; important matters demanded all his time and attention. He would be glad to grant me an audience once his studies were finished. The letter was proper and polite, and signed by his assistant. I, of course, wrote a reply that thanked him kindly for his invitation and told him I would present myself at the proper time tomorrow. I am not crazy, according to my contacts his research had been going on for thirty years or more.

Next morning, under a lime-yellow sky, I boarded my black coach and set out for Mylor Tower. The maid had bought a teacake as a second present. Outside the village the landscape was desolate and black, just like the tower that loomed over the horizon after only half an hour’s drive. From the coach’s windows I took in the gothic arches that are the backbone of Chaosian architecture; the turrets and the gargoyles and the bars in front of the windows. This Mylor lived in style. It was an old-fashioned kind of style in a provincial backwater, but style nonetheless. While I studied the tower someone tried to trump me, but again I resisted. This was neither the time nor the place to speak to relatives or to fend off an enemy. I needed my trumps back. When we were there –no moat, no garden, just the tower rising straight out of the sharp black rock– I gestured for my guards to stand to attention and used the knocker.

The sound of my knocking echoed through the tower but nobody came. I had expected this. As luck would have it, the doorknocker was the shape of a demon face with a ring in its mouth.
“Hey you,” I said, and touched the knocker’s ear. And yes, it opened its eyes.
“Sssffufe mwe?” it said.
I took the ring out of its mouth. The doorknocker smacked its lips happily.
“That’s better, isn’t it.” I said with a smile. Talking household appliances went out of fashion ages ago due to their general annoyance factor, but the Mylors apparently kept this one.
“I have been invited to—“
“Gee, then you’re the first!” the knocker interrupted. It had an unfamiliar accent that sounded rather common.
“But I am Lady Boadice of Amber.”
“No-one will come,” the knocker said.
“Pardon?”
“Well, you knocked, didn’t you? Wait, I’ll give a shout.”
Without taking a deep breath the knocker called out: “SEVERINUS!”
That was the name of the servant who had signed the letter.

The knocker kept on calling and shouting until we heard the sound of approaching footsteps. I took a step back so that whoever would look through the little window in the door would see all of my face and torso. A podgy white face appeared behind the grille. It had the same red eyes as the other locals, and started when it saw me.
“Ooh, erm, did you not receive my message, milady?” it said.
“Yes, I did,” I said. “That is why I am here.”
“But, erm, noooo… No no no. Erm, only when the project is finished, yes?”
“Excuse me?”
“That is what we wrote,” Severinus said, and he shifted his weight nervously behind the door. “Not until the project is finished. The master has no time to see you.”
“How awful,” I cried, “I thought—“

“Told ya so,” the doorknocker said, “He never sees anyone. The old geezer ‘s just scared of people I tell you. It’s terrible being a doorknocker here, really it is—“
“Would you mind putting the ring back into its mouth?” Severinus said.
“Not at all,” I said, but held on to the ring. The doorknocker took the hint and shut up.
“I am invited,” I said. “You cannot send me back.”
Severinus stammered.
“Erm, no, we did send a letter cancelling the visit, did we not? Yes, we did. Erm.”
“You are very much mistaken,” I said. This was fun.
“So where is your invitation?”
I sighed.
“I am aware of the words you used, but you have obviously been away from fashionable society for far too long. The phraseology of your letter suggested to a sophisticated lady of the Thelbane—“
“Thelbane?” Severinus said, obviously impressed.
“Yes.”
“Yes? Erm…”
“The letter came across as, how shall I put it… In simple terms, it said: be welcome.”

A look of panic spread across the servant’s face. I forged the iron while it was hot.
“Look here, I refuse to conduct this conversation on your doorstep. This is unacceptable.”
“But I’m not allowed to let you in,” the man whined. Then his eye fell on the miniature rose I held.
“Ooh, those are beautiful. But they don’t have much stamina. Climbing vines, on the other hand—“
“I refuse to converse through a closed door.” I insisted.
Severinus finally caved in and opened the door. I would explain to the master myself, I said. I thanked the doorknocker and it managed to say:
“All right, my pleasure, it was nice so speak to somemnmnmn mn--” before Severinus put the ring back in its mouth.

I left the coachman outside and went upstairs with the guards, the maid and the footman. This was much easier than I had feared, or so I thought.
“Third floor, big door straight ahead, that’s the master’s study,” Severinus had said. “Mind your step on your way up.”

The first landing was large and packed. The space was filled with plants, every flat surface except for a small path across the room was covered with pots and boxes and buckets, and from every container grew plants plants plants. Some of the plants were healthy and blooming, others were little more than dry sticks and some were somewhere in between: green with brown edges. I gave in to temptation and touched the leaves of a furry dwarf willow. It threw a tendril around my wrist, startling me. I quickly disentangled myself and took a step back. The second and third tendril were already reaching out for me. The step back had brought me near a tall red-blooming orchid, and a flower turned to regard me. I glared at it and until it backed away. When it turned to its fellow blooms for support I got the picture. The rest of the vegetation in the room also seemed… animated.
I glanced back to see how my servants were doing. They were cowering in the doorway.
“Make a dash for the other door,” I told them. We did.

About halfway there I heard a scream. I looked around and up. One of my guards hung upside down from a small tree, trying to draw his sword from its scabbard. Sighing, I fished a dagger from my bodice (you did not think I had come unarmed, did you?), threw it and cut the vine. The man fell into my arms and apologized, as well he might. It is so hard to get good help these days!

The plants, having realised what had happened to heir friend the tree, attacked en masse. We were forced to hack our way to the second doorway, trying to do as little damage as possible in deference to our host.

Nothing grew or attacked us on the second flight of stairs, but the next landing held nothing but boxes of climbing vines. Stronger measures were called for. I crafted a spell of inattention, a much improved version of what people have been trying to achieve with invisibility spells for centuries, and this saw us safely to the other side.

The third landing was spacious and plant-free, so I left my servants there and entered Lord Mylor’s study by myself.
In the middle of the room stood a desk, and behind, or rather, in front of the desk sat an old, green, five horned demon. He had his back to the door and therefore to me, and said when he heard me enter:
“Yes, put it down there Severinus. Did you manage to get that watering can?”
“I think you mistake me for someone else,” I said in my sweetest tones. The demon turned around, scrabbled on his desk for his glasses, put them on and stared at me, baffled.
“Who are you?”
“I am lady Boadice of Amber.”
“Amber? Who’s that? Never heard of them.”

All the easier for me. Let’s see how his ancient history was.
“At the moment I am secretary to the house of Ornach.”
“Ornach? Don’t know them either.”
“Never mind,” I said. “I am here to—“
“A miniature rose!” Lord Mylor -it had to be him- called out. “How nice. But no stamina, pity.”
“I hoped you would be pleased. With my compliments,” I said, and gave him my present.
“O, well, I can have a look at it,” Mylor said. He took a vial of lurid green fluid from between a pile of paper and a stained metal beaker. His study was filled with plants and glassware and lined with books. All that was missing were the dribbly candles and a stuffed alligator. Mylor poured the green goo onto the potting compost and murmured a small spell. Soon, I had him talking about his research; the passion of his life. It turned out to be his ambition to teach plants to shapeshift -big surprise- but so far he had only been successful with climbing vines. And they only turned into tentacles.

We talked shop and ate the tea cake I had brought, and the miniature rose learned to change the colour of its flowers as a defensive reaction. After a while, the thinner branches started to sway in response to a prodding finger. That was the first stage, according to the old demon. In time, a plant could develop a sort of personality, which was necessary for shapeshifting. Mylor and I had become chummy enough so I came to the point.

“I came here for something else,” I said. “I am a trump artist, and I heard you had an interesting trump in your possession.”
“Hmmm.”
Mylor frowned. He got up and pulled a drawer out of a cabinet, took it back with him and upended on the desk. Stained and shining odds and ends rolled everywhere, and in the mess there lay and seven or eight ancient trumps. My hand shot out and turned those that had fallen upside down rightside-up. None of the trumps were black and white.
“Nice, eh?” said my host. “This is my collection. I still have to put them in a file.”
“Trumps of plants?” I said. All the cards showed some kind of vegetable growth. “You can trump plants?”

Apparently you could, once they had enough of a personality, you could get a psychic impression of them, and then you could make a trump of a plant. I briefly thought of Ygg, the famous talking tree that had never said a word to me. Perhaps it was protecting its psyche from trump artists.
“I was thinking of a trump done entirely in black and white.”
“O that old thing?” Mylor said. “There were no plants on it so I sold it.”

DAMN!

“You sold it? That’s a pity.” I made big eyes and let my lip go wobbly.
“Yes, to a nice boy of… What was the name of that house again…? Baccaran. But he did not live in Chaos, no, he had a thingy… A… I just remembered, he had such a nice little house. How did he do it? He took four shadows with four elements and put them all together and built his house on top of it. And he knew a lot about plants. What a nice young man he was…”

Hearing the name of ‘Baccaran’ almost made me give up on the trump then and there. The description of the interesting real estate meant nothing to me, but I might as well get some more information for Ornach to work with.
“My my. Did you visit that house?”
“No, it was too far away, right at the other side of the universe.”
Now that was odd.
“Do you remember the young man’s name?”
Lord Mylor thought deeply and said:
“Something with an R in it. Rudolf? Ronando? I think it was Ronando. Ronaldo. No, Rinaldo! Yes, that’s it. Rinaldo, yes!”
“Are you sure?”
What would my cousin do with such an obscure trump?
“Yes, Rinaldo of house Baccaran.”

I have heard the rumours that say my uncle Brand’s son is related to the Baccarans, from his mother’s side. Apparently the lady Yasra is the illegitimate child of a serving demon and a low ranking male Baccaran. Gossip says that is where cousin Luke got his gift of the gab; he cultivated a house trait to apparent perfection.

“I guess I’d better go and see him, then, shan’t I?” I said, hiding my disappointment. Conversations with Rinaldo/Luke are said to be effortless but seldom profitable. I hid my distress with more shop talk and we finished the cake. When it was gone, we said our goodbyes in the most amiable manner imaginable. Lord Mylor said it had been a pleasure to speak with a colleague again, and he escorted me and my servants to the door. In the yellow light of the sunless sky I wondered if I had been successful or not.

. . . _ . . .

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