Aylwin’s Diary part 13: Julian Drops The Knife

In The Doom that Came to Amber

1st Snake 3658

Over breakfast we discussed the method of closing the rifts in shadow. Morwaith reckons that the Jewel of Judgement is the best but not the only way. Since there is quite a close relationship between the Jewel and the Pattern it seems it seems the best available substitute. We all agree that the rifts near Amethyst are probably the best place to practice, Khitan can teleport us nearby and then, if necessary, back to Kashfa. I also need to deal with my problem with Trumps.

As I linger over my coffee, Asmark trumps me. He seems faint and far off and can only maintain contact briefly. Since I need to ask Khitan to contact Asmark so that I can find out what he wanted I go up to his room, the door is shut but I can hear voices, Alaric! When I call there seem to be sounds of a hasty exit, since I need a word with my brother I open the door - what flimsy bolts these internal doors have?

When I enter Alaric has already gone and Paulo is being passed through the Trump, I try to speak to Alaric but my presence breaks the contact after about three words. The landlord arrives and seems angry about something, I throw him a gold coin and he becomes obsequious, perhaps I misjudged the exchange rate.

Khitan trumps through to Asmark, who advises me that there is a family meeting at 11.00. I say that I would be delighted to attend but cannot think how. He asks after Morwaith, who I know is just leaving, I contact him by the subtle method of leaning out of the window and shouting. He will not be attending; he was recently refused access to Castle Amber, if they don't want him so be it. I report this, tactfully trying to make it sound unlike a sulk.

To my annoyance Khitan has given the Tarot we found to Alaric. I had not finished my investigation but restrain my anger though not suspicion. Given the source of the cards I fear they might take a toll on the mental stability of the user; hardly what Alaric needs at the moment. Chaos touches Khitan, despite his orthodox Cordovan credentials.

The teleport spell has been prepared in the room, good for privacy, damn poor for logistics. With a little bribery to get some help we get the horses up the inn's staircase. Khitan is in the room completing the spell; there is something rather nasty about his magic, it certainly upsets the horses. I restrain the one I am holding and calm it down, the other one rears up, ill advised in a low corridor, it smashes the ceiling with its head and vice-versa then collapses in a heap. Since I cannot let go of the horse I am holding I lead it into the room. Khitan has to put the other horse out of its misery. We go through the teleport portal, and once more find ourselves in a muddy field.

Where a few thousand gallons of sea-water was poured onto the field the grass does not look well, but it is much better than an area over by the hedge, almost certainly where the others entered the shadow. Most of the vegetation is dead or dying, something is somehow wrong. There are dead birds, better perhaps than the alternative. I am reminded of the Black Road.

I call up the Pattern; I can clearly see the rift, predictably enough right in the centre of the blighted area. I am going to have to be careful, a rift this small could easily be made worse. I have used the Pattern as a hammer and as a shield, now I need to use it like a surgical instrument. I could just use the Elder Sign to block this rift, but it is no match for a real repair.

I sit for hours, Pattern before me, studying every thread of the fabric of the plane. By the time I know it as well as I need my mind cries out for rest. Before I sleep I discuss the details of the procedure with Khitan. Whilst I sleep, he will cast a spell to cleanse the area (surgical swab?) then when I wake I can do the repair work.

Once more I call up the Pattern, I sit and use it slowly, carefully to repair the damage. It is like working at arms length with heavy tools and still having to do fine work. Images dance before my eyes: the Hanged Man, a single Coin. There is a price to pay, false knowledge must be purged; nothing is won without sacrifice. Only the willing can make such a sacrifice.

The task is done. The work is sound. The damage is diminished. I am weary beyond words and sleep where I sit.

I must return to Amber and deal with my problem with Trump. Walking the Pattern will cleanse me of a curse, by clearing all influences and starting again I may not be able to use the Trumps but will at least start with a clean slate. First I must at least block the tear above the sea cliff; it is close to Amethyst so should not be too hard to work a teleport to Arden from there.

Evening in the shadow Khitan has named 'Feldspar' but I just like to think of as the muddy field!

This place is strange, it seems exposed on all sides. I am not sure if the repair is keeping things in or out. I test the shadows reaching out; whichever way I leave will cause damage, even the most gentle and Royal of routes. The cleansing that Khitan did seems to have utterly destroyed any life in the tree or the ground beneath it, horrible to think what reacts so badly to being purified.

I cannot put any weight on my foot. I take my boot off and Khitan has a look. He says that the ceramic is disintegrating; the traces of chaos in the wound seem inflamed. I cannot get my boot back on; we are going to have to teleport. My head throbs as I re-hang the spell and reach out to find a clean source of power and draw upon it.

Arden!

My ankle is a swollen mess; all they can do is strap it firmly. I go to Amber tomorrow. I sleep.