A Knight at the Opera pt 1

The ongoing tale of William, Son of Ophelia of House Rebma, and of the Line of Barimen in the Courts of Chaos.

Overture and Beginners

Breakfast. Grandmother.

When fighting in Diptera, the first of those was not guaranteed each day. (The second was almost guaranteed by its absence.) In fact, if one calculated the number of meals we got compared to the hours we got to sleep... well, suffice to say that both were often in short supply. As De Lambre would often remark “Soldiers have only two things in excess; boredom and danger. Everything else is always on the next supply train.”

But since my cousins came to the Courts my meals have been regular, my meetings with Grandmother constant. I must find some way to thank the Lords and Ladies of Amber sufficiently for this great gift.

This one was different. Instead of being shown in to see Grandmother, I was shown to an antechamber where, if I stood still, I could hear the dim susurration of conversation, like ant legs brushing against each other in a nest. More interestingly, when I stood in a peculiarly shaped alcove, those voices became clear; my uncles Caine and Benedict, speaking plainly of Lord Mandor’s plan.

Benedict claimed the feat is beyond him with only one arm to wield a weapon. He is not strong enough and neither Caine nor Bleys are fast enough for the task. Darig’s name was mentioned; I can only assume by Caine, and Benedict’s summary was swift – he has both the skill and the speed, but it is not in his nature to be an assassin – Darig is a soldier through and through.

“What if his commanding officer gave him an order?” Who else but Caine to ask. “I will not give out a death sentence disguised as an order” was Benedict’s retort.

I heard Benedict leave, just before the wall dissolved in front of me and Caine turned to see me standing there. He bowed, somewhat gracefully, and bid Grandmother adieu.

Grandmother smiled at me and bade me to sit. I did so, distracted somewhat by what my answer would be if Benedict were to order me to Swayvil’s side with a dagger (Ask if I might take Claideb instead?). A sharp knock on the table brought my focus to bear – it is never wise to assume that a Chaos Lord is a safe person to daydream around – even if she claims some familial affection.

Grandmother wished me to choose another lady of Chaos to squire; she gestured some magic into being and windows appeared all around me, allowing me to look through them into likenesses of her current choices – A Pheon, a Moghul, one of Eleusis and of Seraph. All could breed as Barimen do, and all were fair to look on and mostly human looking. I know Chaos too well to look to their comely seemings though. If the potter is skilled enough, all her pots are shapely; in fact, a misshapen pot might be of more interest because one knows that it will be by design rather than accident.

Having said that, I found Rachael of Seraph the most attractive, and Grandmother agreed to broker a meeting. We spoke of Barimen then; and Cymnea asked me to speak to Melvin and ask him what demon he would have of her wager. I shook my head. “Create him a demon of combat, that will serve him as De Lambre serves me. He has three loyal servants in Bru Na Boinne; let him have a fourth.”

She nodded with a slight smile on her face as I made decisions for him who might be called my leader here in Chaos. “It shall be so. Now go – Lord Mandor is arranging a social engagement for you and your cousins.”

I hope she did not see the expression on my face as I left.

We travelled quickly to Woodstock where my cousins were starting to gather; news was passed around about the death of Delwin (if I have caught the name correctly – a relative of Margrath’s, I believe) and we raised a toast to the fallen. Funerals must occur in order of precedence, however, and so no bones can be put in the ground (raised on platforms, consumed by fire or thrown into the birthing pits) or otherwise commemorated until Oberon has been so venerated.

Mandor then explained that we are to be offered knighthoods in some of the illustrious Orders of Chaos but that we must choose which we wish to pledge our loyalty to based simply on their names. We press Mandor on this and he claims that he cannot speak for any order other than his own, but nor does he offer to introduce us to members of the other orders.

Aware that this is a double edged sword – a great honour but also a chance for Chaos to put us in a position of split loyalties, we somewhat hesitantly agree to join up as follows:

· To the Superannuated and Disingenuous Order of the Invidious Blade – Dirk (though I think more because he thought it easier to remember the Order whose name was similar to his)

· To the Interminably Lachrymal Order of the Deniable Moth – Constance

· To the Seasoned and Crapulous Order of the Undulating Thing – Sorashi

· To the Middle Aged and Lackadaisical Order of the Brash Extremity – Havelock

· To the Mature and Interesting Order of the Loquacious Nettle – Margrath

· To the Illustrative and Insinuative Order of the Inconscient Brush – Havelock

· And to the New and Innovative Order of the Lugubrious Vendetta, myself.

The purpose of the orders is simple; almost like Officer’s Clubs in some armies, the Orders aim to break the insularity of the Houses in Chaos so those who are in Order at least have knowledge of those outside their own House.

Several things then happened in quick succession; we were invited to the promotion of Lady Zae of House Zigo to Rimlord (and incidentally bringing Zigo to equality with Ascaris on that score); Havelock suggested we should bring the Houses to us via a Ball; with joy in her eyes, Constance then offered to teach me how to dance (I suggested she might wish to invest in steel sabatons) and Lord Hector of Zigo informed us all that we were invited to an Opera to be sponsored by Swayvil in honour of ‘our guests from Amber’. From Mandor’s reaction, an opera is not something to take lightly – and its title – “The Resistible Rise of Magnus Matricide” seems ominous to say the least.

We decided to assay the Opera House before Lady Zae’s promotion – if a battle is to be fought there (which seemed to be Mandor’s belief) then best to get an idea of the field if possible. As we travelled, Margrath told us that Delwin, obviously a seer of some sort, had given three dire warnings on his deathbed. In summary:

· Don’t change the past

· Something Bad is coming

· Keep an open mind.

DeLambre obviously knew my face; an elbow, misericord sharp, dug in my ribs before I could guffaw too loudly; this Delwin was obvious close to Margrath and it would not be polite to express my utter dislike for soothsayers and their wishy washy cover all the bases let’s sound portentous rubbish. As I heard Dirk say ‘I agree’ I can only assume that some of that dislike may possibly have been expressed.

At the Opera house we split into three groups, the better to cover ground. With Constance I started around one corridor, stopping only when a dark figure was seen ahead. It disappeared, but its presence implied some egress or exit and it was short work to find the secret doors that exist at regular intervals; passages for the servants to move around in, I guessed. We walked down a narrow corridor towards the centre of the structure; Claideb in hand, held by the ricasso to better make use of the constrained space. Constance offered me her rapier, thinking it would be better and I tried to explain that Claideb was often jealous of other weapons, but I am not sure she understood me.

Eventually we came to an open space with a high ceiling; lights and sound leaked through several trapdoors in the roof. A quick investigation showed that standing on this platform thus, and striking this lever with Claideb took us rushing towards a trapdoor; almost as quickly as we might fall back to the ground. But the trapdoor opened and we were on the stage, in the centre of a great arena, with a pit immediately nearest, then seats on rake, with boxes above. The noise we heard was behind some of the scenery, and I was about to advance when Constance stayed my arm. “Something is wrong here”, she said, a look on her face like a skilled tracker seeing traces of passage in mud. “Think before you act.”

I know the look of a specialist; my armies in Diptera often had those creatures which could see the unseen or sense the changes happening out of sight. I learned then to trust those with extra senses and this was similar. So when the figure in black stepped out from behind a false tree, I did not charge.

I saw a ghost who knew he was a ghost.

Prince Brand, it appeared, was dead. He was aware that he was dead. He was aware that Constance was Constance. He was not aware who I was.

He told us of how the Houses in Chaos worked; that to get the support of two was to instantly and irrevocably lose the support of a third. That some of their loyalties could be bought but not enough. Even this ghost from another world running in parallel to ours supported Mandor’s plan to kill Swayvil, even though he presumably knew not of it.

Brand faded; and Constance exhaled as if she had been on a knife’s edge the whole time he was there. It appears that Brand is, even amongst those of Amber, seen as treacherous and untrustworthy. He was also, according again to Constance, a master sorcerer who could have used the magics of Amber to explode my head before I could have moved. I wasn’t so sure. The way he moved showed that he might be a master of magics but he certainly was no great shakes as a warrior. He might have been able to melt my head, but I do wonder if he would have received a clout around his own pate for his troubles.

My cousins all congregated on the stage and we shared our impressions of the building until I was interrupted by DeLambre. He told me that he had just received an invitation for me to visit with the Goddess Isis and I agreed that it shows ill manners to keep a Goddess waiting.

We travelled to Ptah, a great pyramid realm, where I was shown in to Isis’ chamber; a magical chalk circle surrounded an altar to herself and she invited me to join her within. She addressed me as Diptera Bane and asked me if I knew what it was to be a Goddess? When I said I did not, she told me that a Goddess was one who could hear the prayers of those who believe in her, and in some circumstances, could be summoned by them. I did not say out loud that that made a Goddess a demon with very good hearing. See how much political astuteness I have learned in recent days.

She bade me kneel, saying ‘there is one who you should meet’. I took a knee, warily, as this was starting to smell suspiciously like a trap. I always knew good manners were dangerous to the health. She then lit incense and candles, picked up ceremonial trappings and called upon the Unavenged Mother, Psychomorpha.

The centre of the circle thickened, the smoke from the incense gathering around to form the whisper of a figure; Psychomorpha; the mother of House Diptera, and she to whom I had been squired when I was given to them as a hostage. Psychomorpha felt she had been betrayed by her ‘two sons’ – me for destroying her realm and her other son for accepting the political capital that Cymnea gave him as recompense rather than seeking my death.

It is a long while since I have felt the white heat of fury in my heart. In fact, the last time this forge was lit may well have been when I summoned Amber into Chaos. I listened as Isis dismissed Psychomorpha and tried to explain the situation to me; the legal fiction that a ransomed squire is adopted as a son of the House; the death of Psychomorpha and her spirit calling Isis from the Abyss; Psychomorpha’s demands for the death of me and her other son, and Isis’ bargain that one death was just, but that she could haunt us both.

And then, as human to Goddess, I spoke. “You may wish to hold to legal fiction, and try to assert your demesne over me through sophistry but know this. I am no son of Diptera, now or ever. I am William of Amber, Son of Finndo of Amber and Ophelia of Rebma. And if that creature wishes to haunt me, I wish her the joy of it. And if she wishes to seek my death, I will only point out that Diptera is now gone, and yet I remain. Tell her; bring your best – I will overcome them as I overcame you.”