The Alhambra

The personal diary of Sorashi, daughter of Deirdre, pt 4

Strangely enough, in the sagas which tell of battle they never seem to mention the slightly numb aftermath of tending the wounded and counting the dead. This was hardly even a skirmish yet we dully go through our duties - four dead, including the Chaos Lord Lantari, and three times as many badly injured, including Margrath's kinsman, Delwin, an orca bite having sheared off part of his skull, exposing his brain. Even Amberite constitution may not be enough to pull him through.

He is by far the worst injured of the family, though Julian's novel tactic of choking an orca to death with his arm has left said limb badly broken.

True to form, though, we Amberites still find time to have a typically robust yet secretive family discussions as Benedict and Caine converse with muted intensity - from the direction of the glances, it centres on Darig. Not wanting to be seen as eavesdropping, I look elsewhere only to alight on Constance talking to Julian, her demeanour radiating resigned misery. One can only wonder if there are any Amberite family relationships which are not dysfunctional.

Delwin being moved is almost a relief.

Constance, possibly to prove herself useful, decides to ask Wherren and Hector for healing aid and this decision again runs true to form by backfiring (though not as spectacularly as her actions in the Thelbane - at least this time, it doesn't involve Pattern). I suppose I should not be so quick to mock - I doubt any one of us knew that healing in the Chaos Court would be based on shape-shifting (although, actually, yes I should have known, but it did not occur to me) and healing another would involve what the one-souled – I mean, Amberites – would consider a melding of essences, a polluting intimacy of shapeshifting taint. It is not always good to understand how one is viewed by others and my mind is distracted by paranoid musings of who noticed my little secret, who they have told and what I will do if they turn against me.

Swim that river when you reach its banks, I tell myself.

We are gathered together by Benedict and exhorted to work harder at persuading the Courts to let us go. There is talk of Trump Gates but no other mention of a Plan B. I wonder if the threat of a repeat of Incident a la Constance would work?

Melvin transports me back to the Countess' lonely abode,which means enduring an episode of adolescent ground gazing and strangled conversational false-starts before he gathers up enough courage to ask if he can call on me again. I must admit, it is (very) slightly flattering in a way, but I confess my main feeling is mixed pity and sadness. For the good of his fragile zygotic self-confidence, I agree.

I know I will have to disappoint him in the future. It is not something I look forward to. So I send him on his way and go in to someone whose burden is incalculably heavier than I hope mine will ever be. The Countess looks to have aged overnight, and not well. Over breakfast, I give an edited highlight of last night's events and she tells me she is considering not continuing - when I am settled elsewhere, she will pass on. There is no time for discussion, however, as the entrance bell tolls.

Younger and nimbler, I rise to open it. Outside stands a demon I assume - a featureless entity dressed in shifting blue and yellow robes, its body perpetually roiling coils. In a hissing monotone, it identifies itself as a servitor of House Abal then hands me an ornate golden key – itseems that by bestowing the mercy blow on the last Lady of that House her property now becomes mine – but it warns me that I must not wait too long to claim my prize before it leaves.

Larsa perks up a little at this when I tell her and advises that it would need a sorcerer to maintain the property, called Alhambra, – which I am obviously not. However, it may prove a pretty bauble to bargain with in our bid to leave.

It seems that the gods had decided our breakfast was not to be a tranquil one. A few moments later, the bell tolls again – this time, a dwarf whose skin seems to mimic the surface of a moon, carrying a letter from Brak N’Kamela of House Drobe. They have Mother's body and for the second time in this temporally-variable land, I am warned not to wait too long.

So I clear the breakfast things and then contact the only family member I could turn to in such circumstances – a strange thing to admit – as I turn over Caine's card. Mindful of the insecurity of this method of communication, I succinctly update him on the morning's happenings. He promises to send Dirk over to escort me on my travels. Well, at least one uncle finds my existence a cause for something other than contempt.

And in due course, Dirk turns up – when I answer the door he sarcastically asks if I am now the door warden – unfortunately he lacks the charm to carry the barbed witticism off. But I need allies so bite back my suggestion that he mate with an angry porcupine, I instead smile politely and point out the choice was either myself or the Countess. I even let him through the door.

Taking our leave of Larsa, we travel by means of borrowed demon – his(?) name being Rhagus, I find out – and to pass the time we have a traditional Amberite conversation full of guarded and semi-cryptic statements and subtle verbal sparring – ostensibly about loyalty. Dirk is not as good at it as his father and I wonder how much of this is due to some primal male urge to impress his unsophisticated female kin. This continues intermittently until we reach a hot, grassy plain which reminds me quite a bit of the kusht in the dry season.

We approach a collection of round leather tents until challenged by a spear-carrying warrior, then we are shown into Brak's presence. He is wearing armour made of what looks like animal hide – if I were back home, I would guess river-cow – and explains that he has been 'working' (on what, he does not elaborate but one can offer guesses) and then leads us into a tent larger than its neighbours, billowing in a wind only it feels, wherein lies my mother's comatose body, the heart still beats and she still breathes but it seems her soul is still in the Abyss. She looks like an offering to the fire god Agni, all hair burnt away and skin deep red like severe sunburn, laid out on a fur-covered dais.

Brak seems apologetic but he cannot retrieve souls – for that we need a shaman. By strange coincidence, there is another house, Sheol, which not only specialises in such things but have the 'other' body pulled from the Abyss. So we set off to visit another House. On the way, I contact Caine again – I assume that the other body is Brand (though he reminds me it may not be and warns me to check carefully) and at the conclusion of our conversation, I have a hint at a potentially interesting grain of information.

Caine is afraid of Brand.

And on another note, I have not yet paid Brak for his work. I must remember to do so.

The route to House Sheol is less picturesque than before and there is an unpleasant edge to the air. Somehow I do not relish dealing with those who dwell in this district of Chaos, but in time we arrive at a pit of sulphurous lava in which there are a pair of human lips.

The lips demand to know who we are and what our business is – I am somewhat distracted by the rows of shark teeth behind those lips, to the extent that I am not fully focussing on the conversation, but do note they have a body pulled from the Abyss. The entity is Lord Zuby and, as is traditional, will not allow us to see the body without some ... agreement. My mind is focussing too much on the teeth to provide anything useful, so I stupidly look to Dirk to help and am rewarded with a dismissive shrug and a none-too-carefully concealed look of amusement as he waits for me to embarrass myself.

Well, it worked for Brak, so I ask Lord Zuby what it wants. Apparently, it had heard of my acquisition of Alhambra (news travels very fast here, apparently) and wants access to its stores - after negotiation, I agree to allow House Sheol one artefact from the stores in exchange for access to the body.

The pit changes into a set of stone steps leading downwards and Dirk and I descend into a dimly lit cavern. On a black marble slab, almost an echo of Mother, lies a lightly charred body whose shape implies a male. An empty eye socket indicates an eye missing before the charring, and there are two scorched but recognisable arrows in its throat and chest – caught on one of them is a gold chain with a cracked stone hanging from it. Dirk and I discuss whether it is Brand (for which the evidence seems to fit) and if so, whether the stone is (or was) the Jewel of Judgement – again, it seems likely.

According to Lord Zuby (or its voice, at least), they had an agreement with House Karm to retrieve Brand's body but Karm reneged on the agreement for undisclosed reasons – one could speculate it being down to the corpse's fire-damaged state but it does raise interesting questions. I ask Lord Zuby if we can take the chain (taking the body would be a little inconvenient) and the answer is affirmative in a 'take the whole darn thing' tone.

So we leave and end up at House Malastar eventually – where I relate to Havelock and Darig our recent adventures and learn that Brand's spirit has been seen wandering around the Thelbane (nobody mentions Mother). We gather up the cousins from their various lodgings to have a proper discussion in House Sumi and my story is narrated again for the benefit of those who missed it originally.

Both Constance and Darig have dreamed of airships flying over Amber - which is at odds with Amber as they remembered it. Is it only those who know Amber who get this dream? I mentally run through the others here (and William, who is being prepared for his marriage) and, apart from Havelock, of whom I have no idea, the rest of us have never known Amber.

Another piece of information with no obvious use.

One of us (Margrath, I think) asks Mokoto (one of the House) about House Abal. Apparently they were famed as artisans and crafters, making creatures and artefacts of power and magic – Alhambra is rumoured to be a repository for a Moghul hoard of powerful and unique items.

And thus, we decide to go there. The place itself is a palace indeed, with columns and towers and swirling minarets, reflected in formal pools. The effect is somewhat marred by it seeming to be melting, like a wax sculpture in the sun. As the only sorcerer I know is Margrath I wonder if he will be up to the job of maintaining it?

We are challenged by a featureless entity (a defining feature of the demons here, I think) called Asfar who goes from churlish to obsequious when I show it the key I was given, and we are allowed in.

Asfar then offers to give us a tour of 'my' new property, and we wander through the empty halls and silent corridors into a courtyard which has a large bronze shield set in to the middle of the floor - which emanates a power even I can sense. I am advised that this would be my source 'when I come into my powers'.

Oh. By the Unicorn, I've just realised what that means.

Poor Asfar is doomed to be disappointed, I think.

And we move on, to a courtyard of pillars, then one with stone lions arrayed around the sides. It also has a fountain, which makes me feel suddenly homesick. I'm not really sure why.

Strangely enough the garden does not have the same effect, even though it is more reminiscent – formal and intricate like a Moghul's retreat. We move on to a room with a pool on whose ceiling the Abyss is represented, whilst Asfar informs us that House Abal used to be Rimlords.

And so we proceed to the treasury, through a gilt and blue arch. True to the name, there seem to be countless costly and important items here, as Asfar is happy to relate. We are advised not to touch an iridescent glove with five fingers but no thumb, which is apparently the Hand of Glory and the most powerful item in the room. No-one asks what it does.

Onward we move, into a huge, ornately decorated room filled with hundreds of pictures – a room of House portraits, it soon becomes obvious.

The first picture I inspect comes to life, like a Trump, albeit a one-way conversation. She introduces herself as Zaliph Calipha – it is the woman I killed in the Duomo – and tells me I must prove myself the mistress of Alhambra.

There are various shapes of frames but I can see no pattern or significance in the shapes. The subjects change from humanoid – ‘Barimenesque’ I suppose is the correct term – to... well, not even slightly recognisable as a being, let alone a human. They all tell their tales to anyone who pauses near them, a depressing litany of assassination, murder and execution. Any guilt at my part in Zaliph Calipha’s death is mollified by the realisation that not only was it typical for this House, at least my murder of her was done out of pity.

But I wonder if I am not just telling myself that to make me feel better. I took a life, and it is not something to bear lightly.

We return to the courtyard with the shield of bronze, where Asfar tells us of the sentinel demon, Kergiz, who still remains and another servitor, who weeps for the loss of the family – at least, I think that is why, perhaps the servitor weeps because that is what it does. This place makes my brain itch.

In order to claim my place, I must battle and overcome the chimera in the arena – overpower a powerful entity in a place made to simulate the Abyss. I really don't like the sound of that, especially as my lack of competence and martial prowess at the Duomo was still fresh in my mind. A faint sliver of hope is offered when Asfar advises the chimera is a creature of fear – and asks what it is I fear? Maybe it is more of a spiritual contest, like the yogis undergo? But I am no yogi, and my fear is at the moment, being torn apart by something with teeth, claws and spines.

I need a strategy to master the chimera as if I do not return, this place will dissolve and we will lose a bargaining coin and if I do return and fail to master it, I will die.

I am not sure of my cousins’ opinion of me after that, but I am no warrior. Even Constance is more than a match for me in that regard. Maybe death isn't so bad after all? After all, there would be a chance next time that I will not return as an Amberite.

We have next to visit Hector of House Zigo, en-route to the funerary celebrations of the dead Lords, and travel to a pleasant-looking town with stone and wood buildings and cobbled streets. Making our way to a large fortified and important-looking house where we find Hector.

Over refreshments, Hector discusses the present situation with us. As he is the heir apparent, he proposes the possibility of an alliance with us by means of marriage. That would be either me or Constance then, unless Chaos practices and childbearing are vastly different to ours. It was when Hector revealed his other form to be a large eyeball with trailing tentacles that I revised my estimation of who might be a potential partner. Though none of us seemed terribly keen, the discussion turns to exact details of this marital alliance.

It is another option, I suppose, and it would probably be me if it came to it – after all, Constance has only one form and I cannot see Hector being happy with a wife needing to be kept like a goldfish in a bubble. Constance seems anxious about marriage in general - no, actually, about sex - but it is a matter discussed with one's mother or aunt and something in her tone annoys me (perhaps it is the opening assumption that I am of easy virtue) so I decline to be of assistance.

The time then comes for us to prepare for the later events – not only the wakes of the four Chaos Lords but Zae von Laus' ascension to Chaos Lady. Thus I am dragged in Constance's wake to meet Aunt Flora – provider of suitable apparel for young female kin who are ill-mannered enough to travel to war without a suitably extensive wardrobe. I am able to excuse myself shortly afterwards to get my own clothes, leaving Constance to be dressed like a pet monkey by her aunt.

I cannot honestly say I was impressed by Aunt Flora - though I doubt very much my existence has impinged on her consciousness in anything but the most ephemeral manner.

The more I meet my Amberite kin, the more resolved I am to spend as little time with them as I can once we leave here.