Yggery-Pokery

The personal diary of Sorashi, daughter of Deirdre, pt 18

It is that slightly blank moment that follows in the wake of a battle.

Wounds are being tended, dead being dealt with and captives are corralled while we decide what to do with them and there is nothing happening I am specifically involved in. The light is dimming, though the fog remains so I go to check on my little Chaos family.

Surpanakha, it seems, has been amusing herself to useful effect by killing toad-things and her mood has improved quite noticeably. Due to her martial efforts, Tajal is unharmed and I have to listen to her excited commentary on her view of the battle (with appropriate responses) though she does admit to being rather scared. She also tells me that one of the attackers was House Roach who specialise in spreading diseases and rot.

I think I may have encountered them, and my heart sinks a little. But, armies mean war, and war death – it is the nature of things, though I still feel sadness for those who died or will die.

There is some good news, though – in her prattling, Tajal tells of a spell to aid healing taught to her by House Indus, called Breath of Life. She seems confident in her ability to cast it, so I take her to the medical tents and introduce her to the tired officer who seems most in charge.

She waves to me as we part, eager to begin, my exhortation to not overtire herself no doubt falling on deaf ears – it is sadness of another kind as I realise how quickly she's growing up.

As I turn to go, I almost bump into Darig – serendipitous indeed, he needs to tell me about the proposed repatriation of the captives, which Benedict needs to talk to me about. Dirk and I are to escort them back to Chaos – it makes sense, we cannot afford to take them with us and we cannot leave them here at our backs.

I may even be able to get them to Chaos quickly, assuming I can withstand the migraine (and that is just for speaking to Kirgiz). But first, I need to speak to Fiona to make sure she knows of the threat caused by Roach's special gift – again, fortune is smiling as she is not far away.

She is, however, worried – she was unaware of Roach, but had noticed that some of the wounds were Chaos-infected and using Pattern in this place would finish off our attackers' work for them even after their defeat. Remembering Constance's little excursion, I suggest that Ygg may be more suitable as it is strong enough to withstand Pattern use, and we can Trump there. She nods thoughtfully, but, as we both have other places to be, we part ways.

On my way to Benedict I meet up with Dirk and pass on what I had learned from Darig. He had also been summoned, and thinks we should have suggestions as to a strategy of punishment and reparations when we return to the Courts. Benedict seems more concerned with our food situation – we have lost at least half of our food to the battle, it would make sense to include food supplies in our requests for reparations – I can tell Dirk thinks the same, though I'm not sure all our family would swallow their pride enough to do so. Well, the job is ours, not theirs, and it makes sense. We were facing a significant shortfall before; it is an impossible one now.

There is also the matter of the transformed Amber soldiers – if the process cannot be reversed, we have a problem. I suggest we take them with us, if they can be changed back, the Courts are the most likely to know how and if not, I offer to keep them at the Alhambra – nominally Amber territory, but Chaos enough that they will not stand out. Surprisingly, my suggestion is not dismissed out of hand – though to be fair, Benedict is pragmatic enough to accept a viable solution to an urgent problem, whoever it is from. We also get tacit approval for applying the ultimate sanction to the prisoners if it proves necessary – the caveats are not specified but we all know they are there.

The bodyguards are sorted – half are from Mother's axemen, the other Dirk will provide. He leaves to organise this, and I prepare for a migraine-inducing chat.

I find somewhere comfortable to sit down, and focus on the mace, calling Kirgiz in my mind.

The familiar, eye-watering multi-dimensional snake head appears, and he casually mentions I 'taste of cat'. I'm not sure why that was relevant, but I want to get this over as swiftly as possible so phrase my request as carefully as possible. After a brief wrangling over the exact meaning of 'a few' (it seems, up to 5), I walk off the expected migraine (this one seems quite mild, only a nausea-inducing bad headache, I must be getting used to the process) and go to find Dirk.

The plan is, I (and 4 others) go through, then Trump the others through to the Alhambra – Dirk will be in charge of the prisoners, I have the Changed.

When we are set, I try to explain to Ketil and Bekkhilder what they may experience so they can tell the others – the look I get in response is the slightly frozen blank of a soldier faced with incomprehensible information, but I smile reassuringly and let them get on with it.

I make a mental note to find out what happened in House Petrus, adjust the Tiara and call Kirgiz. He promises to 'do this gentle' as I touch some weird dimensional aspect of him and his coils wrap around us. The axemen are taken aback, no doubt seriously wishing they had stayed home to herd goats, as we are transported through unknown spheres to our goal. Lunch made repeated attempts to revisit so I close my eyes – it helps, a bit.

Suddenly, after a few million years, we arrive in the courtyard of the Alhambra. A loud crash heralds our arrival – Jakabok stands, wide-eyed, amidst the ruins of a jug.

Our little group has not fared well, Bekkhilder is whey-faced but functional, Sven has fainted and the other two have obviously had less luck in retaining their lunch than I had.

So that was being taken 'gently'. Noted.

As Asfar floats into view to see what the noise was, he seems pleased to see me so I detail him to sort out the axemen, giving him a potted explanation of our sudden arrival. Rama arrives at some stage, so gets the gist.

He kisses my hand, and after the required pleasantries I give him a fuller update. He will contact the High King, to ensure 'justice is done' (with suitably fearsome scowl), so I Trump through the others.

Dirk looks askance at the axemen, who by now have removed the worst of any (ahem) travel-stains and recovered somewhat. I merely reply 'bit of a rough journey' and he does not pursue the matter.

Rama returns to advise that we have an audience with King Melvyn on the morrow – tonight, there is a feast.

The feast is welcome – the Amber soldiers, especially, seem happy to fill their bellies – but a Head of House's work is never done – Asfar has a few things to discuss.

First is a gentle reminder that the House needs a portrait of me to hang in the gallery – I promise to raise this with Havelock as soon as I can. There are day-to-day decisions to assent to with regards to the Alhambra – though it seems that the flow of betrothal offers seems to have dried up, I can only assume because I am no longer here. And lastly, Rama is overlooking the restoration, but Asfar (begging my pardon, Mistress) thinks he may be bored.

On the political front, Melvyn has a daughter, Saoirse (can I hope this is after me?) and is expanding the Thelbane, raising houses Alhazred and Pheon to Rimlord status, even though they are not part of the Royal Coalition. A remembered conversation with Mandor surfaces in my mind – the river of politics has many tributaries, and even more hidden currents, so they say.

I resolve to speak to Rama – I cannot mention that he seems to be bored, as it would seem a criticism of his vizier-ship, so I give him a potted account of the battle and thank him fulsomely for his stewardship, reminding him he is de-facto head of the House while I am gone. It is the best I can do, I hope it is enough. He seems a little brighter after this, his smile a little wider and more genuine – I hope I am not seeing what I wish to see, rather than what is. But there is little I can do about it – he is intelligent, I can only hope he sorts it out.

We are called to attend the High King privately before the official meeting. Brứ-na-Bóinne looks bigger and more impressive now, in line with Melvyn's increase in status, and Maugrim has 6 guards now, not just him.

Loeg escorts us in and the prisoners are taken away to a side chamber. We are ushered into another larger chamber, where Queen Fuchsia welcomes us. She shows charm, poise, authority and yet a refreshing lack of guile – I think Melvyn chose well.

Refreshment is served then we are conveyed to the High King's presence in what seems to be a main chamber. Also there are Vizier Mantissa, Prospero of Pheon, Belissa of Hendrake, Herman of Karm and, of course, Mandor – the council of advisors, presumably. As private as a High King gets, I suppose.

Melvyn is controlled but more than angry – more forceful in his anger than I have ever seen him. The attack broke his express command and recklessly endangered the peace treaty. He subsides and lets his council come up with options – torture and killing are the front runners, but a third option (proposed by Mandor, I think) was to make an example of the prisoners, publicly and decisively.

This seems to be gaining traction – we are happy with whatever they choose, we state, but obviously we have suffered losses at the hands of the traitors and supplies from Chaos would be considered a suitable recompense, as would any assistance in reaching Ygg they would be willing to provide. Dirk and I make a reasonably good diplomatic team, I think. We are dismissed to an outer chamber while they deliberate.

Princess Saoirse is introduced to us – a confident young woman, with her mother's looks and her father's (pre-Logrus) eyes. I like her.

Queen Fuchsia asks for a quick word and starts with Melvyn's affection for me. I think I know where this is going and start to try to reassure her that I have no designs on her husband, but I have completely misread the course of the conversation.

No, it seems I am being offered the position of concubine. I am nonplussed, but it makes a lot of sense – the queen selecting the concubines minimises any potential clashes of personality or political machinations. I just don't move enough in the right circles. I do, however, decline her kind and attractive offer on the reasonable grounds I will be on the other end of Reality which would make the position difficult to undertake. I take pains to thank her for her thoughtfulness and the honour of being considered, however, and she takes my refusal amicably.

Dirk merely gives a half-grin and promises not to tell any of the Family. I'm pretty sure Caine will get to hear of it, despite this promise – I know where Dirk's priorities lie, and I don't begrudge them.

It's not like it's anything to be ashamed of, though I'm sure William will make fun of it with the subtlety of an elephant in must should he ever find out.

We are commanded to present our prisoners to the High King in the Thelbane, so are conveyed by rather less robust methods than Kirgiz's efforts – which relieves the axemen who came through with me – and form up to one side in front of the High King.

Mantissa recites all the titles – ours and Melvyn's – and then Melvyn stands.

A short summary of what had happened left no-one in any doubt of his personal rage at the whole situation, though he never raised his voice higher than was needed to hear him.

He then declared his judgement – there was to be a bounty on House Fomoire, (dead preferably), House Amblerash were apparently wiped out and were to be forgotten completely.

The heads of Chanicut and Yupanqui were convicted of treason and executed on the spot. Houses Anura and Roach were demoted and their heads were sentenced to execution (when they had been captured).

Whilst this is being organised, I ask about the Changed. Unfortunately, the consensus is that nothing could be done to change them back – one cannot unmake a chapatti into flour and water once cooked, it seems. Dirk asks them what they want to do – they choose to join House Anura.

There is no trace of resignation, or of loss, in the soldiers as their spokesman gives us their verdict – it is, they try to explain, what they are now. All things considered, probably as good an outcome as we could have expected under the circumstances.

Back to the diplomatic dance, we are to receive the food and supplies, as well as assistance to get to Ygg so we publicly thank the High King for his wisdom and accept these reparations for the regrettable incident. And so the political balance returns to its previous equilibrium.

I manage to spot Chatzis Demissa of Petrus, so go and offer familial greetings – Elektra, obviously, is discussed but I manage to dance prettily enough to avoid obviously answering any questions directly. It sounds a complete mess, and not one which will go away. We do, however, part on reasonably friendly terms.

Mandor drifts past and languidly presents the High King's token of gratitude to Darig (for, ahem, 'services rendered') – it is a 'Letter Patent', giving Darig the freedom of the Thelbane. He also gives his own token of appreciation which is a shield, its surface covered in a screen of fine goldwork. It is an artefact called Aegis. I promise to convey both to him.

Back at the Alhambra, I Trump Mother to update her on our progress, and ask her to relay this to Benedict. I then Trump Darig with a less official message – I pass the gifts through, and tell him what I learnt of Elektra. He looks less than thrilled with the latter, unsurprisingly.

Our mission is completed so we prepare to go back to the army.

Part of me wants to stay in Chaos, though – in a way, it's almost home.