Alaric’s Diary part 13: Julian Drops The Knife

In The Doom that Came to Amber

1^st Snake 3658

I am now a slightly wiser man. The tarot deck lent to me by Khitan identifies me with great ease – and I do not like myself. I know and recognise the darker aspects of my mind – which lie open, seemingly for all and sundry to discover in Groombridge. I also know that there are worse things than rats to be found living in and emerging from domestic cellars.

Paolo and I emerged from the Hall of Mirrors into the attic of the Groombridge house. We took the opportunity to look through the paintings stored up there. They were good and filled with good memories for me. Paolo commented almost immediately on the likeness between La Comtesse and myself. I agreed in a non-committal way.

We found a painting of my boy, John and I, and then the Allegory of Painting II – my mind’s reinterpretation of Vermeer’s work. Mira was Clio, dressed in her habitual greens and purples, reading the Golden Bough. On the chandelier each candle was shaped like a Unicorn horn. The candles were dangerously close to the wall tapestry. This was a map of Amber. Mira stood in line with Castle Amber – and the artist, almost certainly me, was in line with the Cathedral of the Unicorn. In the foreground was a human skull lying on its side. This skull had ram’s horns. Our examination was rudely interrupted by the sound of a shrilly-screaming Mira coming from downstairs.

Fearing an attack on the household I pelted down the stairs followed, I hoped, by Paolo. I passed the children’s nursery and could hear the nurse urgently trying to calm my panicked children. A second scream pierced the air as I hit the second flight of stairs at a run. The scream seemed to come from the somewhere near the foot of the main staircase and the armoury lay beyond.

Stopping only to snatch a sword from the wall, I approached the foot of the staircase and heard a bone breaking crack and the sound of a low moan coming from one of my footmen later seen to be clutching his right hand.

The tableau was revealed. Framed from my position on the staircase I could see the edge of Mira’s rose-hued gown. She lay beyond my vision – but I noted the absence of blood. Also revealed was another footman, Peters, challenging the unwelcome and armed Nathan. Peters was rising from a prone position clutching a poleaxe in what he imagined to be an appropriate way. And there was also Father Paul, standing in the doorway to the armoury, approaching Nathan, brandishing his crucifix and clearly stealing himself for an attack from ‘the creature from beyond’.

I wasn’t particularly pleased to see Nathan – but nor did I want any more members of my household injured so I called for everyone to drop their weapons, following that up with an emphatic “Nathan!” so he would clearly understand that he was expressly included and that he was less than welcome here.

Father Paul, claiming that a demon had slain Mira, chose that moment to launch into his ‘Avant thee foul demon’ challenge, presenting his crucifix with valour and sufficiently distracting Nathan so that Peters’ poleaxe almost apologetically entered ‘demon’ thigh. Nathan responded with a Strobe Power Word and sliced at the crucifix – neatly removing Father Paul’s thumb.

By now everyone, including distant screaming kitchen maids, were thoroughly excited. Peters obeyed my instructions to see to Lady Alars and the kitchen screechers fetched linen bandages for the injured, though the thought of passing Nathan in the Hall was nearly beyond them. The kitchen staff are very prone to screeching – but this could be because of their close proximity to the cellar.

Nathan refused my offer to assist with the removal of 20lbs of iron from his thigh and told me to drop my weapon, which I did to expedite his departure. My trusty Trump armour appeared there and then. Actually, this is my shadow and I was not in the mood for receiving the family here. I backed along the stairs a foot or two and watched the paranoid remove the poleaxe and noticed also that he was now wearing a large chain of state just under his shirt. I knew that he’d seen Oberon within the Hall and I wondered then if Oberon had made him a present of something red and jewel-like?

Nathan finally admitted that he’d emerged from the Hall of Mirrors into the Cellar. He had, of course, bumped into some very nasty paintings (I knew he didn’t mean it in the sense of art criticism) and had thought himself locked into the cellar.

Father Paul interrupted, daring to upbraid me for failing to deal with an intruder and I snarled at Father Paul to mind his own business in my house. He then noticed the state of his thumb and fainted. Peters carried him off to join Mira and Samuels.

Finally, it dawned on Nathan where he might be and he admitted that he had pretended to be me in order to convince Mira to open the cellar door and she, not unreasonably, had been a little startled to find him there.

There was a little more male posturing and finally I convinced him that leaving would be a good idea. I even gave him a Trump to leave with – Amethyst or Namue, I really didn’t care which! I pointedly watched him leave.

I went upstairs to see Mira. She was less than impressed and as I left I heard her maid bolt the door behind me. Father Paul was equally unimpressed and left with a footman as a bodyguard. Shortly after I sent another footman to chase him, carefully bearing a linen-wrapped thumb.

I had just finished examining Samuel’s hand when it occurred to me that Paolo was not about. I sent servants to look for him in the attic and my studio and even in the maids’ quarters but he was not to be found. With mounting unease I walked swiftly towards the cellar door and found it opened. I collected a beam weapon from the armoury, my trump of Groombridge, retrieved my sword and took a lamp from my butler as I went down into the cellar.

Sure enough there were signs of recent activity. Not only Nathan’s but also Paolo’s, and all signs of him ceased right in front of a portrait, of him, lying dead with his hands removed. It was a Trump and Paolo was somewhere beyond it.

I stepped through it into a mausoleum and beyond an open coffin there were two ghouls with cruel shears hacking off and consuming the hands of the recent dead. I killed them without thought and was chilled to see what appeared to be the body of my friend Paolo lying there. But that body was too long dead which meant that my Paolo must have past through here beyond the open door.

I went to the door and called for him – and was answered by a now almost familiar scream. I ran towards him and found him beleaguered by 5 ghouls. I opened fire and turned to face an enemy that had crept up behind me. This signalled the beginning of close blade combat and, having swiftly dispatched our opponents, I then shepherded my poor frightened, gibbering friend away from the horror and through the Trump.

We arrived back in Groombridge. It was 7.30am and the day was sunny – but then the routine of Groombridge was interrupted by a Trump Call.

I screened the cards and received Khitan who, having told me that I wasn’t altogether responsible for the events in Amethyst (really?) and that he was still my friend (I have two now), told me that he needed my assistance with something he and Aylwin had found in an abandoned caravan near Lyon Abbey. Having gained an assurance that I would be safe with him I agreed and went through – bringing Paolo with me.

A tarot deck had been left for Aylwin and him to find and Khitan wished me to examine it closely. Whilst we talked about it and its known peculiarities Aylwin arrived outside the door. I would not have him admitted but he was kind enough to tell me that Mother was well.

Picking up the tarot deck, I went back through to Groombridge and contacted Khitan so that Paolo could be passed through to me. Aylwin kicked down the door and entered the room in time to see a rainbow hue as Paolo vanished. My connection with Khitan was suddenly cut and it was 7.30am in Groombridge and the day was sunny.

The Groombridge day was as normal. There was great concern over poor Paolo’s condition and I had him taken up to a guest room and immediately put to bed and nursed.

I explained that it wasn’t Paul but a friend of mine, Paolo – a fellow artist, and that we’d both been attacked during an early morning walk. Mira looked askance at me, particularly at the likeness between Paul and Paolo but also because I was wearing engraved white armour of a much earlier period. I lamely explained that I had been posing as a chevalier from a much earlier period but neither she nor our servants were convinced.

I went back upstairs where a valet helped me to remove the armour. I cleaned a wound on my face, washed, changed and then joined my wife for breakfast.

Only then did I take my leave to retire to the attic and, after speaking with Mira – who again refused to take Paolo back to Mirabeau, I began to set about my own business.

Over the next few days I worked in comparative bliss. I moved the paintings downstairs to my studio to see them by a fairer light – and they are fair. There is still good within me then.

I kept my wife in bed on Sunday morning, neatly avoiding Church, and spent the afternoon and much of that night investigating the self-identified Zephyra/Asperage Tarot together with its booklet of divinatory meanings.

I went slowly through the deck – the first to identify its nature for I determined that it was not a Trump deck but a deck of Tarot. I checked it very carefully for traps. I re-examined it to examine what was extra to a standard tarot or trump deck and to divide the Major Arcana by artist.

I recognized the Photographic realist images as having been part of another Trump deck – one now held in Mirabeau I thought. But again I could not name the artist by their work.

Thirdly, and meticulously, I worked again through the deck to identify those depicted in the Major Arcana and then again with the help of the divinatory book which still left me with an unidentified woman – the Maid of Cups – and the knowledge that whoever composed this deck knew me too well.

This deck was obviously a copy of Trump cards put together by someone unknown and, because of the great range of years shown from Dworkin to Asmark, was put together by someone with a great and close interest in the family; probably a hidden member of the family itself.

Khitan had told me that that the images and meaning of the Tarot images could change, therefore there must be a psychological link between the creator/user and the subjects or someone with knowledge of the subjects.

But how could this be achieved and how was it powered? And what in Hell was its provenance? Dworkin perhaps? This I could work towards and, because they were not Trumps, I ought to be able to investigate without Mira’s interference. My query was straight forward. Who drew these tarot? Using the standard spread I gained insight into the following:

Significator = 10 of coins (R) – Restriction caused by hidebound tradition. Inheritance or succession troubles.

Aspirator = 9 of crosses (R) – Illusionary blindness. A perverse refusal to see. The trees obscure the Wood. – Well everyone’s guilty of this at present. But who most? Dworkin? Oberon? Oberon, I think.

Instigator = The Thief (R) – The Stealer of Souls. Forces and people who will seek to destroy you morally and spiritually. It can also represent theft and petty criminals. Someone from ‘In-between’ I should wonder? Or Dark perhaps?

Hidden Influences = K of Pentacles (Oberon) – Unwilling to abandon any plan until hopelessly obsolete. Yet still there are none wiser. Oberon to a tee – and the whole Corwin situation laid bare.

Culminator = 5 of swords (R) – Obstinacy and lack of imagination preventing escape from adversity.

Pivot = Bishop of Cups (Dworkin) – Wants to regain his creation. Amoral in the truest sense of the word. Dworkin to a tee and his creation – Amber? The Pattern? The Jewel? The Unicorn herself?

Like all readings it had multiple layers and multiple meanings.

Working through the Tarot reminded me to try and contact a number of my family. My mother and Bleys for starters and then Dworkin himself. The first two remained uncontactable and the third – hmmm well I know he is about somewhere.

This work was as tiring as ever and I took a horse out for some exercise before hearing the children read and dining with Mira.

In the morning I began to work on a Trump of my future step-grandfather, Dark. I wondered idly if he’d let me run away and join his circus? In any case I wanted to see where he was and try to find out who he was. I had been working for some number of hours when I had a third unwelcome visitor.

Dark himself approached me from behind as I worked on his likeness. Somewhat shocked, and of course unarmed, I made a swift mental note to myself to keep a beam weapon by my side in the future – if there was to be one.

Dark complimented me on the likeness and I congratulated him on his forthcoming nuptials. He said he’d preferred to be addressed as Grandfather – a change from Clarissa’s Exalted One. He then launched into the by now familiar speech. I was a disappointment to everyone and not only was I responsible for a large number of deaths in Amethyst but that my worst crime was my failure to support Deirdre. This saddened me for he inferred my Aunt was dead [and goodness only knew what was in the Abyss].

He then made reference to my having broken a 3,000-year-old balance and said a particular object had been flushed into the open and that I would be redeemed in their eyes if I were to bring it to him or a member of their party. This was of course what Nathan had hidden under his shirt, his gift from Oberon in the Hall of Mirrors, the Jewel of Judgment. He left me using Trump and I must suppose that he used Sorcery of some sort to get to me at Groombridge.

This was quite enough! I Trumped Morwaith – and it was as hard a job as I suspected. I pushed it and pushed it and was considering contesting a Psyche duel with him when he deigned to receive me. I said “Uncle Morwaith?” with a little trepidation; after all, we were supporting conflicting Goddesses. He replied “Ah Alaric!” almost as though he were expecting me. He was seated in a simply styled monastic cell.

He said that there were things he had to tell me but couldn’t tell me over trump – could I therefore come to him? I asked for an assurance that it would be safe for me to do so given my current newfound infamy and he gave me his word to guarantee my safety. I said that I also had things to discuss with him and, stopping only to gather my Trump of Groombridge and to leave a note saying I’d not be long away, I accepted his hand and stepped through to join him.

I reminded Morwaith that I was anathema. He replied yes and in his kindly way said he had been in a similar situation in the past and understood some of what must be troubling me. He then asked me what was so urgent and I replied that Dark had arrived unexpectedly in my Trump Shadow.

I briefly recounted the conversation and where Dark had said that my inaction had caused a disruption of a 3,000-year-old balance. Morwaith interjected saying “that’s not right”.

I said that, much as I grieved for Deirdre’s death, I was even more confused as Nathan had only recently seen her in the Abyss, apparently held by Brand. This ‘information dump’, as we would say in Golter, surprised Morwaith and I told him of what Nathan had experienced, though I was surprised that he was unaware of it. Random ought to employ swifter, more reliable messengers!

I also told Morwaith that I was sure that Dark was referring to the Jewel of Judgment and this would be the real Jewel of Judgment which I am damn sure Nathan recovered from the Hall of Mirrors that had appeared in my house.

Mira’s Archpriest had pointed out to me that it had been the Unicorn, not Oberon, who gave the Jewel from the Abyss to Random. Given its provenance, there was a good chance therefore that the jewel now around Nathan’s neck was the true Jewel. I knew for a fact that Nathan wore no chain when he entered the Hall of Mirrors and it was around his neck when he emerged from my cellar, scant minutes later. I also know for a fact that Oberon’s portrait was in that particular Hall. Morwaith said, “Good place to hide it” and that it was one of the things that he was seeking.

I asked what else he sought and he replied one thing that I might know of and one that I wouldn’t. He was looking for Benedict and he was looking for Adam.

I said that I thought I knew where Benedict was, he was trapped in Faerie. Morwaith asked how I knew that and I said that I had tried to Trump him and had pushed sufficiently to realize that he was in a dream but it was not a natural dream and, based on my recent experience at the Faerie Embassy, I was very certain that there was Faerie influence at work.

Morwaith asked if I was sure about this as he had been trying to seek him in Shadow and had tracked near to this place, Camelot, where a lot of real influence had been spent and that the influence of the Sleeping King was strong here and that possibly the two were connected? I nodded and mentioned an Adam Kevence, whom I had heard of in Mirabeau, but Morwaith said that this Adam was a lot older and that he was the First Archpriest of the Church of the Unicorn and that he sought to know more of the nature of the Unicorn.

I said that I’d heard some of Morwaith’s theories from Aylwin. Morwaith said the Church was there to bind the Unicorn because the Unicorn is a creature from ‘In-between’ whose nature is tied to the creation of Pattern and Shadow and that the Church and her worshippers are the chains that bind her. Their worship has changed her nature and what she wants Morwaith to do is to change the nature of her worship and return it to a more primeval level.

Morwaith said that I couldn’t kill the Unicorn because She is the thing that holds the flywheel of the Pattern in place and that, if I destroyed Her, Time, space, and the Universe will fly apart.

The Unicorn, being a creature of the ‘In-between’, wants to be free to return to her original form and the other creatures of the ‘In-between’ want her destruction because it frees them from being trapped in the edges and angles between shadows.

I asked him if he knew that Dworkin was manipulating Mira and he replied that Dworkin sought the destruction of Creation but, by whatever bargain he created the Pattern, he had chained the Unicorn entity.

If She broke free and destroyed everything or was released by the destruction of the Pattern, She would be able to seek revenge on him, whereas if someone were to kill Her (me for example) and destroy the Pattern, Dworkin would be free to start again.

Hmm! And I bet Dworkin regards us in exactly the same way as some of us regard Shadow dwellers.

On the subject of In-betweens, I mentioned Moiré’s funeral and that her body had been committed to ‘He who lies sleeping’ and that Khitan had told me that this referred to another of the ‘In-between’ entities.

Equally, when the Unicorn made Random King it was seemingly confirmed from the clouds in a fashion reminiscent of the appearance of an ‘In-between’ entity in Amethyst. Morwaith said yes, he’d heard about that.

I told him plainly that I had no intention of having caused the incident in Amethyst and that, as much as I hated that bitch Clarissa, I should never have bitten at her taunt. I deeply regretted both the scene at Clarence’s funeral and the grief it caused mother.

Morwaith said that it wasn’t altogether my fault, but I replied that actually it mostly was, but that I was damned if I was going to let Roger relieve me of my entrails for it.

I asked Morwaith not to blame Fiona for it and he replied that all the family was partially to blame. He then told me that he had made Fiona better and he was not sure that this was a completely good thing. Oh, Uncle! How could it not be! I thanked him and asked how I could get to her side? He replied that he’d last seen her on Bleys’ flagship and that I wouldn’t be able to get to her.

I talked to Morwaith about Mira; principally my desire to persuade her that she’d been manipulated and lied to but I had no way of reaching her. Morwaith asked why not, and I explained how I’d lost all sense of Pattern near the Boarders with Mirabeau. Morwaith nodded and said yes, that he had excommunicated me at Julian’s request and what an interesting side effect? My eyes narrowed at this news.

Morwaith advised me not to try to change the nature of Mira, the Goddess, as it was a Nuministic Power and that she was the Goddess of Trump. I sighed, recognising that I was so ignorant about the nature of Gods but also recognizing that I was doubly tied through my loss of Pattern skills.

Morwaith pointed out that it might be possible to readmit me to the Church of the Unicorn – after all, I had as little faith as many of my relatives. But I was not keen, I knew what might happen. He also advised me not to walk the Pattern until any other side effects of the excommunication had been determined. He offered instead to take me wherever I wanted to go to find out more.

I asked Morwaith how to fight off the keen interest of the ‘In-betweens’ in my body and soul. Morwaith said that I was to avoid them because by running into them I had created a weakness in the world just like those made by those creating Shadow paths.

I said with some surprise that they were in Groombridge. Morwaith asked where that was and I told him of my Trump Shadow and of the things in the basement. Smiling ruefully, I added that Uncle Bleys had warned me about what I might find in the darker places of a Trump Shadow. Dark hadn’t reassured me by saying that I should learn to be comfortable with my fears.

We then had a long discussion about the nature of Trump Shadow and how they are analogies of the artist’s psyche, in the traditional meaning of the term.

Morwaith pointed out that, even more so than with other Shadows, a Trump Shadow is less real. Everything in it reflects the fears, desires, secrets and aspirations of the artist. [I blushed inwardly as I thought of my wife and children and what they meant to me and indeed how I responded to them – well at least I wasn’t married to my Mother there!]

Morwaith pointed out that I couldn’t simply destroy the contents of the basement; at best it would just reappear when I next returned there and at worst it might be replaced by something even less desirable. The contents of my cellar had to be dealt with outside of the shadow.

Uncle Morwaith admonished me for having become completely obsessive about art and I was forced to admit to myself how I had constantly been putting art before people. My ability to fall into Mira’s loving arms was just the end of many years of obsessive and frankly indulgent behaviour. I am ashamed to admit that I had told Anne that art was the only important thing. People had died because I put art before people.

But prior to Paris I had cared about other things and only recently Bleys upbraided me for not continuing with a promising military career. Was I then able to change? Of course I am, fool! And if so what would emerge if I redrew Groombridge? This was something that I wanted to experiment with but it must wait.

Morwaith offered again to take me where I desired but he added that it might take him some time as he had other chores to carry out. He asked me if I’d like to accompany him on his search for Benedict? There would be the opportunity to undertake some fighting lessons and doubtless the chance to put them into action.

I readily accept this offer – on the condition that Paolo could accompany us and besides I had spent the last few hundred years navel-gazing and there is only so much lint to be found in one’s navel.

I returned to Groombridge to bring Paolo back with me. I only hope that he has sufficiently recovered.