Alaric’s Diary part 9: The Fae Summit

In The Doom that Came to Amber

Session 9

If I were required to paint the personification of guilt I would undertake a self-portrait. If I were required to paint the personification of a distraught mother I would paint my mother. If I were required to paint the cause of her present distress, well, I should also be painting a self portrait. I have caused my Mother’s breakdown and am well on the way to destroying Amber. This was never my intention. But as my early teacher taught me ‘the way to Hell is paved with good intentions’. Welcome to Hell Alaric. I did not cry for my sons or my daughter. I cannot cry now.

21st Bull 3658

I had breakfast with my family. I responded to Julian’s enquiry regarding Rebma – though obviously not as well as he would have liked and was squashed by Benedict for venturing an opinion on the Unicorn.

I finished breakfast and trumped through to Mother to speak with her further regarding Mira. She was in Amethyst, sitting sewing in an outer Chamber. It was the Chamber of Clarence the Archmage, her grandfather, and he was dying. Mother looked even more tired. I asked her how much her brother knew of my foolishness and she told me tightly to leave her brother to her to manage.

This really didn’t answer my question but I felt bound to tell her of Deirdre’s involvement and that’s when she cracked. She sent out wave after wave of emotions anger (obviously), guilt and worry and was in floods of tears.

Having realised the full extent of the pain I had caused her, I attempted to take her in my arms but this was a useless and unwelcome move and she beat me away from her with resulting damage to one of my ribs. She feels guilty about Aylwin and blames me for his involvement in the whole business. She did not know how she would prevent Bleys and Julian from attacking each other. As for Amber? It is lost and I am bringing it down upon our heads.

I was beyond mortification. I am not used to being someone’s son. I have become used to being the point of her seemingly constant disappointment but to be the cause of her great, great, distress sends me into melancholia.

I am not good at displaying emotion, it was never in my upbringing, but I stood and listened to her outpourings until she subsided into muffled sobs. A voice called to her sharply and a woman – who from her face could only be Fiona’s mother, Clarissa, entered the room. She demanded to know why Fiona was not looking after her grandfather and Fiona, not bothering to rid her face of the tears I had caused, went through to her dying relative.

There is no other phrase for it but to say that I was ‘inspected’ by my Grandmother. My poor Mother! With such a creature for a mother and Oberon for a father! In comparison I feel fortunate to have been abandoned as a baby! I escaped merely with the comment that I was not as handsome as she had hoped for. I said that my looks were improved in different light and introduced myself formally to her and she informed me that I may address her as Ma’am or Exalted One. She circled me on her tour of inspection – viewing me with what I suspect is an artist’s eye. She informed me that my Great-Grandfather would be dead in a few hours and that I was expected to attend his funeral and then dismissed me.

She began to cast some sort of spell near me – to hasten me away perhaps? I was already engaged in bringing my Trump Space to mind but, surprisingly to both of us, the armour came to me – and it’s not that comfortable without an arming jacket on either. She raised an eyebrow and began to gesticulate in that way Sorcerers have when they are about to cast a spell and I sketched a bow as I departed back to my chambers.

I returned then to my rooms and alerted the Overseer to the near death of The Archmage Clarence and was then contacted by Aylwin asking for the loan of my trump of Emeraldheart. Mira interrupted our conversation. She told him that she was pleased that he was contacting me at last. This was the second of my unpleasant realisations of the day. I told him that our Mother was extremely upset and took him to task over his complete inaction regarding Mira’s contract. I eventually persuaded him to agree to meet with me and discuss our future plans.

I went down to Mira’s Church in the afternoon to try and talk some sense into Paolo. He is excited at the prospect of a Crusade. I am not. Art decreed by Mira’s faith is not my idea of a good time. But nor am I excited by the prospect of a blood sacrifice demanding Unicorn Church either. We had a frank exchange of views and he again called me a self-centred wanker.

My mind is in an utter turmoil over the whole business. I do not want this Crusade to happen – it is never how I envisaged promoting Mira’s worship in Amber and so I am the biggest fool in both Mirabeau and Amber as well. I tried to talk to Paolo about freedom of art and why I wanted Amber to retain the artistic freedom it had. Sure its artistic standards were not those of Mirabeau but at least he could go out and get laid if he wanted to. He replied that he’d heard that the really good Priests got to sleep with the Goddess. Oh joy!

I took part in the Church Service but by the time of the mass I had no desire to take the wine. It became a battle of wills between Mira and I. Paolo and I were moved to what I thought was my Trump Space and I was utterly routed.

Mira does not care that she’s been lied to and manipulated, she only cares about the downfall of the Unicorn and her utter hatred of the old woman who offered her the poisoned apple. The fact is that it’s all fairy stories, Mira – and like any good fairy tale there is a tiny ounce of truth to it.

Her only concession is that she would consider sharing theological power in Amber if I could get the Unicorn’s agreement to it. So now I must go out and seek the Unicorn – a mythic beast that’s been seen damned rarely by damned few. I had a vision of the third part of Mother Bellano’s triptych and me drenched in doubtless my own blood fighting the wretched thing!

Following that failure I met with Deirdre, having already arranged to meet her later at her Sheriff’s Office. She laid down the law to me. This Crusade is already under way and I was either a figurehead or frankly dead. I owed her for Lyon Abbey – and I had not rescued her, she had merely been left about for me to find. As to who had rescued her, well that was none of my business.

The Unicorn, as far as she knows, is from the same source as that thing she fought on my behalf – and this worried me further as it fitted in with some information that Khitan gave me later. If I didn’t like it then tough – why didn’t I just go running to my Mummy again? Having an Aunt like Deirdre holding a dagger to one’s throat is not a pleasant sensation. The fact that I was encased in Trump armour with a gorget was of little comfort. I left.

I met with Aylwin and we had a brief discussion over Mirabeau. I disillusioned Aylwin as to his thought to go into exile/prison for 7 years. The facts are that we must deal with the problem. We worked out Mira’s family but still do not know who her backer is. We cannot outwit her with our combined skills and we need to involve more of the family.

I suggested that we spoke with the only Conjuror I know – namely Morwaith – and we tracked him down to the gym. He was less then pleased with our information and I am not convinced that he has the means to fight Mira off either. I also alerted him to the likelihood of someone interfering with Trump.