After the Fat Lady Sings

The personal diary of Darig, son of Corwin, pt 8

Alone in the dim sanctuary of the Duomo I try to make myself comfortable. The floor is hard but I have my blanket and the small pillow from my pack. Strange skittering sounds leak from out in the darkness, mice? No not the right sound. Lizards, insects? Could be, I really cannot tell.

The Sanctuary is about ten foot square but, inevitably in Chaos, the sides are not quite regular. A carved wooden rail surrounds it, about 2 feet high, you could step over it easily. I sort the food into one pack, hang the water bottles on the rail and lay out a bed.

Suddenly Mandor is there, he asks politely if I am alright and if there is anything that he can do for me. I ask for something to use as a target, he summons a dart board reaching out into nothingness and drawing it to him. For a moment there is a sense of something unclean, a look of distaste on his face but this passes as soon as it is felt.

We discuss the Opera and agree that the trap was set by the writer who, at the moment, I feel should be strung up for this. Mandor agrees and repeats his dislike for the whole concept of the Opera. By royal decree the Opera has never existed but that does not mean that my actions did not happen.

Once Mandor has gone I settle myself in one corner and practice throwing knives until I am able to relax. Then I sleep.

I awake to the sound of voices, people are entering the Duomo; apparently I am now a tourist attraction. I chat to those who will make conversation, though it is obvious that some are nervous of making contact. Two colours of Spectral walk past, by their behaviour parent and child, Violet and Ochre. I am apparently an example of not eating your greens. I try to persuade the younger one that there are sweeter colours, perhaps I can induce rebellion and rot the metaphorical teeth of Spectral.

William is the first of the family to come and visit, steamrollering his way up the queue. It is sometimes amazing how lawful Chaos is, this behaviour draws nothing but a few tut-tuts. We chat about the previous night, and he asks if there is anything else that I require, all I can really think of is a flat cushion; the floor seems to be polished obsidian, aesthetically suitable but not noted for comfort. As he leaves he borrows my dagger, stressing that he is only borrowing it, as a back-up plan.

The gawpers come and go, some will chat others are too nervous to say more than a few words. I have started to recognise some of the houses Metaka, Ptah and Groan.

Dirk is the next visitor, he oils his way along the queue, a chat here, in one case a kiss. We chat until there is no-one in close proximity then he explains that Caine sent to confirm that I am in on the plan, which I am. With that he goes whistling on his way.

The next visitor from the family is Sorashi, she seem to have come with no motive other than to check that I am alright. She has brought me wine and an account of the final scenes at the Opera. After she has left I chat to the passers-by, they all seem to be a little cautious now some, including Lanfranc, watch from a distance but others, all minor houses come closer. I cannot recognise all the houses but see Toltos, Cyril, Oparin and Jensen, Bartholomew an old gentleman of the latter house asks if I really was the one at the Coronation, as he was there, to which I reply “Not yet”.

The place empties as it reaches what passes as evening, I contemplate the sweeping architecture; the roof above me is high and in a gothic style but dips strangely into shadowy corners and low ceilings. The lights, from no apparent source, fade slowly into darkness and a blue-white lamp remains on the altar, contrasting with the red glowing gem in the wall above me. From the now impenetrable shadows the skittering sounds come again. I speak a power word and for a moment the whole place in brightly lit. I have a fleeting impression of cockroach-like creatures each well over a yard long rushing back into the shadows.

I sleep as warily as a scout in enemy territory.

As the light rises once more my first visitors of the day are Nico and Kalavrita with our children, a boy and a girl, the former is mine to name. I have given it some thought and suggest Rhodri, which they approve; the girl’s name is Elektra, cute. They are fine looking children but seem to be about seven years old – my how quickly they grow up.

While they are with me a few others arrive but hang well back allowing us privacy, as soon as they are gone the others come forwards, noticeably more chatty than yesterday. Alhazred, Unman, Drobe, Indra, Treblinka and X. One of the visitors from Indra asks, “Did you really say that to the King?” To which I reply that I spoke only the words that I was given in the opera.

Margrath arrives as I am in conversation with an erudite starfish from X. I realise that less of the Chaosites are maintaining their ‘Barrimen form’ in our presence, the boredom is setting in. Almost immediately behind is Constance with Morgenstern; she is talking to calm him, with most horses that would be because the horse is nervous, in this case it seems more like stopping the horse from killing someone. None of the locals bats an eyelid (or its equivalent) but then I am talking to a starfish! Constance has brought wine so we share a drink.

My visitors enquire politely about my comfort and health, in some ways this is the most peaceful place I have been since I entered Chaos. As I talk to Constance Benedict contacts me, he too enquires about my health and praises Mandor’s skill at politics (only half a compliment from Benedict). We discuss nothing more secret, he also provides me with a couple of bottles of wine; the rail around the sanctuary is really starting to look like a wine-rack. Seeing how I am amusing myself with practicing knife throwing he provides me with a solid board, the dart board is looking very sorry for itself. He also reminds me of some intellectual exercises to occupy my mind.

The last Chaosites to visit are from Zero or Yupanqui and as they leave William arrives with a bag of cushions, I will take no harm from this floor but it is not comfortable. William, Havelock and Constance want to hear the words spoken to Gus again. We then huddle forwards and discuss their plan for an attack on House Karm to rescue Julian. We surmise that Dworkin and Suhuy were the playwrights. After our discussion my cousins set off to visit Sorashi and Deirdre.

My final visitor is Suhuy himself, he seems in a good mood and, in a temporally nearly incomprehensible conversation, explains that in his opinion I already will have killed Augustus unless this is not going to happen at all??

He also advises me that in the morning I will be pardoned, someone has already given up their tongue (could it be the tar baby who rescued me though that would be a complex time line even for this place). Alone in the near dark I send one more flare to send my skittering neighbours into cover and cautiously lie down to sleep once more.