A Conversation between Constance and Dara

in Woodstock, the private residence of Mandor of House Sawall

Constance’s cousins have returned to Brú na Bóinne leaving Mandor and Dara, who are very sympathetic to Constance’s plight. Mandor asks Constance to relate her experiences in House Spectral and in particular highlight anything she regards as particularly unpleasant.

Constance has another long sip from her wine glass and considers how to structure her reply and how much information she can give.

“The major problem, Mandor, is probably me and the way I am made. The lack of dimensions - of planes within Spectral - made me quite, quite ill. To the point of nearly passing out. The colours. The block of colours and the entities within threw my senses badly. I think they wanted to make me more comfortable but they were brutal in their execution of it. Celadon sought images from my mind to give more comfortable conditions. I refused him thrice and he had me taken so he could take what he needed. That would be assault in Amber.

“They fed me but as they are, I think, beings of something other than substance, the food was inedible for me. There is so little... No!…No shared understanding of my needs and I lacked as much in my ability to explain as they lacked empathy for my needs.”

Mandor leans forward, interested; “What exactly do you mean by ‘taken’?”

Constance blushes suddenly. “By taken, I don’t mean sexually attacked my Lord.”

Mandor quirks an eyebrow. Dara takes Constance’s hand.

“I mean that under an order from Celadon, Mud Boy took me and held me so that Celadon could enter my mind without my consent or willing. In Amber that is described as mind-rape. Under such circumstances I was prevented from mentally protecting myself. I cannot use Pattern here to defend myself and I do not have the physical strength to escape the embrace of a Demon…or rather that demon. In other circumstances I would have lashed out physically, however I doubt that either Mudboy or Celadon have the external genitalia to damage.”

As she talks, Mandor’s face clouds over and by now it’s white with controlled anger. He’s furious! He’s wrathful - in the biblical sense. His rage is intimidating and Constance can feel Dara shrinking back against her. It would be a truly bad thing to be on the end of Mandor’s fury.

“It is not a position where I wish to be again - and nor will I return to House Spectral.” She flashes a look of enquiry at Mandor. “Will I have to?”

In a supreme effort of self-control the inner rage vanishes. “Of course not, my dear.” He says through not quite gritted teeth. “You shall stay with our satellite house, Pheon. Whether they can offer trees, alas, I cannot say, but I think you will be more comfortable - Pheon, at least, knows the rules of basic hospitality.

“And I promise you that House Spectral shall pay...”

Constance holds Dara’s hand more tightly, fearful both of Mandor’s answer and Dara’s fear. She is quite shocked and alarmed by his display of rage - the like of which she has never witnessed before. Only once had she ever seen Julian in open fury and that was a long time ago in Faerie - and a very differently expressed fury indeed.

She breathes slowly to maintain some semblance of composure. “The really awful thing, Lord Mandor. Is that by Celadon’s reasoning, they were helping me. So who stumbled here? Spectral, the house that had no understanding of their guest’s basic needs? The House that ordered me sent there, knowing it was an environment I would find at best difficult. Or the House who allowed me to be sent there knowing the probable result and not caring that I would go mad, because they hoped I’d die anyway. The House that chose to be deliberately cruel to both Guardian and Ward because Prince Julian was the least expensive noble to bid for!”

“Pray do not concern yourself further in this matter, my dear. You shall be rehoused and all those culpable shall know our displeasure.” He rises, kisses Constance’s hand once and touches Dara’s shoulder briefly but surprisingly intimately. “And now I must set wheels in motion - I beg your pardon for leaving you, ladies. Dara, you are the lady of the house in my absence.”

And there seems no trace of the anger evident a minute ago as he strides from the room.

* * *

Constance loosens her tight grip on Dara’s hand but does not disengage from it unless the release is mutual. “Is Lord Mandor often so angry, Dara?” she asks very quietly.

Dara crosses to the bar, pours herself a generous measure of single malt, tosses it back with one swallow and replenishes the glass before answering.

Dara isn’t comfortable with open displays of rage.

“Often? No! But the last time I saw him like this several people died. Quite important people, actually.”

“I feel so stupid and felt so helpless. I couldn’t even run him through. I do not know the beginnings of the rules of this place - was Amber...Prince Corwin…so strange to you?” she asks Dara.

Dara looks inscrutable for a moment, then a smile comes to her face, almost by stealth. “Corwin? Not at all! Well, not at first.” She shrugs, “But then I was coached, by Oberon and others.”

Constance muses. “Coached to attract a notorious womaniser - and by his father! I think I have missed out on some training somewhere along the line!”

Dara smiles self-consciously, “I suppose I have had a ‘liberal’ education...

“Spectral are unusual - they’re a little specialised, even for Chaos. But you have to find some way to handle such situations; if news gets about that you can be pushed around, then you’ll be pushed - if not by Spectral then by others.” She refills her glass again and then seems to remember her manners. “Can I get you something while I’m here?”

“Yes. Please, Dara. Another glass of whatever this was,” Constance holds up her wine glass. “A Borddoh, at least I think that’s what he said.

Constance and Dara establish a rapport.

“I’m not the pushover I look, you know, Dara. I just lack, to a degree, some of attributes shared by the Lords and Ladies of Amber and their experiences of the World outside of Arden and,” Constance shrugs “I must make better use of what I have got. Spectral was too outré for my mind to handle. I’ve not been physically handled by a demon before and could have done a couple of things to block the mental attack. Maybe I should have just shouted in his face? But I am not used to displays of anger either. What could I have done better Dara?”

Good question.

Dara hands a glass to Constance and takes a chair opposite. “I don’t know...something with the Pattern, perhaps? They’re terrified of it, you know.” Now she’s sipping her spirits rather than drinking, which is just as well since she’s sunk a third of a bottle already.

“Hmmmm. We had already guessed that they are worried by Pattern,” Constance replies. “Had you not heard I caused a bit of a ruckus in the Thelbane shortly after our arrival?” Constance pauses and goes on to say, “Pattern Defence was my first thought - and the threat of bringing it to mind might have been sufficient threat - if not an unpopular move,” she muses. “But it’s all a question of degree really, isn’t it? I wouldn’t move against Spectral in case the Warden of Arden suffered for it. And I would not cause that as I’ve already heard how keen House Karm are on vendetta.”

“That’s part of the ploy. Hasn’t it occurred to you that this is precisely why it’s this way?” Dara shrugs, “And vendetta is just one of the ways of settling arguments; all the houses do it.

“But you have to do something; letting them rape your mind and then running to Mandor makes you look weak. He’s taking your side this time but only because it suits him to do so. Next time, who knows? And now you owe him a favour - trust me, he will call it in, just as he will for giving me refuge since the battle.”

Constance shrugs, looking chagrined. “From the Warden’s training, pursuing vendetta isn’t uncommon in Amber either - and nor are favours and maybe that’s why I was raised away from Amber.” She takes a very long drink of wine. “But, I am of Amber, so of course I want to cut Celadon’s face off, Dara.” Constance’s eyes narrow. “But I may have to wait - and he’s not the only one on my list. I want to return his favour in some way but the only way I can think of right now involves raising Pattern in House Spectral and destroying the whole damn lot of them - and me in the process. But I didn’t do it when it counted - and I don’t think doing it now would help matters. I need a subtle approach and I may well take my time about it.”

Constance is not subtle about her intentions toward Celadon, which makes Dara uncomfortable,

but Dara knows she’s been mind-raped and thinks it understandable.

Dara’s face is clouded. “I was born a Hendrake, schooled by Helgram and married to Sawall: vengeance and vendetta are the only way to stay alive in the Courts. There was a time when I might have thought Amber would be different but since then I’ve spoken with Oberon, Corwin and Benedict, and each made a point of warning me that Amber was, if anything, worse.”

You should have listened, Dara.

Constance looks coldly and directly at Dara, “I don’t like feeling like a damn victim - all helpless. I don’t like being imprisoned. And before you think it again, I did not come running to Lord Mandor. I don’t come running to anyone!” She pauses and finishes the contents of her glass. “He sought a meeting with us and I answered a question from him knowing that something would come of it. I am insignificant amongst my relatives, unlike you and your son, and, also unlike you - of little interest. But, like you, it would appear that we both owe the same Lord a favour. So. Dara. What are we going to do about it?”

“We can’t do anything; we’ve each of us placed the ball in Mandor’s court. How he returns it is up to him.” Dara bites her lip. “But I’ve a feeling that when he comes to me it will be something to do with Merlin.”

Dara, lulled by Constance’s sweet words, reveals her deepest fear.

“Well it sounds like a lot of people have plans for Merlin!” Constance comments. “I wonder what plans Merlin has for Merlin?” Constance smiles quietly.

Fine insight from Constance.

“How will you play the ball?” asks Dara.

“I don’t know?” A smile briefly crosses Constance’s face. “It depends on the game - and which part of the game we have found ourselves in. Do you have a way out of the Courts, Dara?”

Change of subject.

“I don’t know. Perhaps. I’d have said no a short while ago but if Mandor’s right…if I can get out the gates then maybe I can get away. But being able to get away is just the first step. I still don’t have anywhere to go.”

Dara almost begs to be included in the family.

“Well the good news is I do have somewhere to go and we, the family, are working on the means. So we both want out. The question is which parties would rather you were dead at the moment? Conversely, who’s on your list - if it starts with Corwin any deals I can broker become more difficult.” Constance quirks an eyebrow, “could I trouble you for some more of Lord Mandor’s Borddoh please?”

‘I have somewhere to go’ – Constance deliberately excludes Dara,

and then insults her by treating her like a skivvies.

Dara makes no move to take the glass but sits, gazing at Constance without expression. “List? What list?”

Dara, who doesn’t like the culture of vendetta, begins to realise what Constance is like.

Constance considers. “No. Not a list. I’m sorry I am not being clear.” Constance shakes her head in self irritation. “Dara, you said that you would owe Lord Mandor for the refuge he gave you after the battle. Did you seek refuge - or did Lord Mandor offer it? Who was he giving you refuge from? Do you know who might want to hold you here or would want to cause you harm?”

A battery of questions, very aggressive,

Constance questions pry and her manner of delivery is a slap in the face for Dara.

Dara recoils from this battery of questions. She looks a little shocked. She obviously wasn’t expecting such a grilling.

“I know I am prying,” Constance shrugs. “But I want to help you and knowing if there are any potential problems now really could help get you out and keep you safe.”

Obvious tosh – now Constance insults Dara’s intelligence.

“You are prying, but I’m willing to play this game for the moment.” Constance can sense that Dara is now on her guard, which she really hasn’t been since she first showed up. [20 Psy has to be useful for something :-)]

Dara is now re-evaluating her entire approach to Constance.

Dara considers the offer for a minute. “OK, so you’re offering to help. I won’t ask the nature of the help just yet. What I need to know is what you want in return?”

Dara is now thinking politically, like an Elder.

Constance sinks into the couch a little as she considers. [She may well be a little tired from her day so far] “I know I need knowledge and insight Dara. But what I want is an ally... a friend. A critical friend but none the less - a friend.”

“Of course, we all want friends – but I’m hardly in a ‘critical’ position...and what would you require of this ‘friend’?”

Dara needs to know what this will cost her.

Constance considers her answer for some time and says hesitatingly “an equal”. She smiles briefly and quietly says, “I would like a friend to be an equal.”

Constance again insults Dara’s intelligence with a mindless platitude,

But one which is semantically loaded – Dara is an archduchess

who gave up her rank to be Corwin’s Queen in Amber, all of which has fallen through;

Constance, who has no title at all, is really rubbing her nose in it.

“I can’t require anything of you Dara but, I know we have some shared aims at least. Getting out of here and values like protecting those we love - finding Merlin for you and looking out for Prince Julian for me. We’ve both walked the Pattern, have found ourselves in placed in difficult situations and...possibly because you’re not family - I already feel that I like you. You took my hand in compassion when you didn’t know who I was - even if you thought I was Lord Mandor’s paramour,” Constance grins ruefully. “Everything else might grow from there - and I mean critical in that my friend, would be in the position to offer me unconditional support and unconditional critique.”

Constance reminds Dara of her mention of Merlin,

then she deliberately excludes Dara from the family

while acknowledging she’s walked the Pattern,

the juxtaposition of this oxymoron is the final slap in the face.

Dara still looks wary. “Unconditional critique? Very well! In that case I must remind you that I am family, and therefore all your other suppositions would seem to fall on that error.” Her voice, already cold, has turned icy. “In view of this and mindful as I am of the warnings of Corwin, Oberon and Benedict, I think we had best terminate this conversation.”

And with that she rises and retires to another room.

Dara, now aware of how she’s been gulled, flees from her humiliation.