Alaric in Mirabeau part 9: A Fractious
Dinner
In The Doom that Came to
Amber
That Evening – A Fractious Dinner
About
They bring him priestly robes, like Paolo’s, for novitiates. [Well
this is a church!]
He’s led through the cloisters and up some outside stairs into a
well appointed dining room where the Old Man, clearly the Archpriest of the
Cathedral in Mirabeau, the Prioress of the Hospital,
Paolo and yourself, all sit down to a sumptuous meal – cooked to artistic
perfection.
The others remain quiet after the Prioress says grace. It’s up to
you to make conversation.
Alaric compliments the Prioress on the quality of the food on her
table.
“All to the glory of the Goddess!” she replies.
He eats politely but manages to consume an appreciative quantity
of food.
There’s plenty of it and both the Prioress and Archpriest smile
approvingly at your gluttony.
[Not gluttony – just Amberite constitution :)]
[It’s kind of hard for non-family to tell the difference. :-)]
He is interested in the activities that take place here so he will
ask the Prioress how long the Hospital has been open and whose needs it meets?
Principally it seems to be a geriatric home for retired iconers but there’s also wings for
infectious diseases and traumatic injuries.
He talks to the Archpriest about the Cathedral and if he has any
recent news of Mirabeau?
The news is that the Archpriest is touring the outlying priories
and granges on routine visitations. Apparently a couple of visionaries have
painted icons depicting the rise of a new prophet for the Goddess, who will
carry her worship into far places and vanquish the evil Unicorn in the
righteous crusade to bring beauty into the lives of the pagans.
And, did Mother Bellano keep the Icon he
painted last week or has it been gifted to the Cathedral?
The Archpriest has no idea; these things take time and most such
works are examined by his sub-priors.
He will ask Paolo about the nature of the training for his new
vocation.
Paolo demurs, he’s only just started and there’s a lot to learn,
procedure, rituals, counselling and so forth.
Alaric smiles and then looks terribly serious when he says, “Then,
Paolo – I hope you’re going to get good at it rather quickly.”
“It takes at least a year to train a priest. Would you have your
friend enter into such a violent affair ill-equipped for the task?”
And then Alaric starts to talk in a more specific way about the
need for art to resist entropy – and how although a work of art might be
considered brilliant for its time but how art, like many other things needed to
evolve. Alaric says to Paolo directly “We are taking Mira to Amber Paolo...”
The Archpriest and Prioress show polite interest but Paolo is
clearly very excited.
“But our battle will be more subtle than an army of artists. We
will work from within Amber herself and form an
The Archpriest and Prioress exchange knowing glances while Paolo
looks slightly confused. “I...thought we would...fight, actually. Isn’t that
the idea of a crusade?”
“In a physical fight Paolo – you would last less than ten seconds.”
The Archpriest nods, knowingly.
“You’ve seen me fight in an alley brawl yes? Well against most of
my relatives, were I to physically fight them I would last no longer than that
large fellow did when up against me – and that is excluding all the other
skills that Amberites have at their disposal.”
The Archpriest continues to nod agreement. “The Messiah speaks the
truth, Paolo. You should listen!”
“Equally, and I know I have said this before, I will not lead an
army of artists to needless slaughter in anyone’s name. Art is too sacred and
good practitioners of it are all too rare. Keep your weapons sheathed and your
wits sharp Paolo. We have other work to do.”
“You must learn to listen, Brother Paolo.” The Archpriest
interjects, admonishing Paolo gently. “And obey! You will be advising the Messiah
but never forget he is your superior. If he has decided a certain strategy, you
must obey, no matter how your better judgement may rebel. We are an order, not
a democracy.”
Then he turns toward you. “However, I am sure the Messiah knows
his role full well and will recruit his pupils from the citizens of Amber with
a care to their martial qualities as well as their artistic ones. Is this not
so, my lord?” There’s a sort of twinkle in his eye that stops short of a wink.
Alaric smiles and says “I regard the establishment of a school of
artistic endeavour in Amber to be of the utmost importance – the paint brush
will be mightier than the sword.”
“I think you underestimate the problem, my lord.” says the
Archpriest with a sad smile, such as you’d give a small boy who speaks
dismissively of some great enterprise, “Once I was something other than an iconer; once I knew something of these places to which you
will carry the worship of the Goddess and I tell you I see bitter, bloody
fighting ahead of you.” His eye twinkles yet again in what might almost be a
wink. “I’d make sure your first recruits are mighty with both brush and sword
if I were you.”
“Oh, I really do not approve of artists leading an indolent life
style my Lord Priest. I sure that we all benefit from a little physical
exercise – and if that should involve a vast amount of martial training – well
beware those who seek to trouble a Miran artist
abroad,” Alaric smiles, “but tell me Lord, what of your life before you became
an Iconer? To which places and events do you refer?”
“In my youth, I lived in Amber as a lowly soldier, eventually
rising to a minor command. But I grew sick of war long ago. Or should I say
sick of warring for Amber...”
“I beg you to indulge me more my Lord Priest – in which wars have
you served – where and for whom? I have travelled a little in Amber and the
closer shadows but so much of Amber’s history is distorted that even the
cleverest of historians have difficulty in divining some semblance of truth
from political propaganda. What hope has a poor artist such as myself to know
the history of such a place?”
“Oh, here and there, mostly minor skirmishes in the
“The ramifications of that conflict continue to shadow the
political landscape of the
“Really? That is...interesting!” Comments the Archpriest. “But I know not of where you speak,
are these ‘Courts of Chaos’ some recent addition to the
“The
Courts? No. They are not of the
“Intelligence? I speak mainly from memory. I know
little of current affairs in Amber save what came back via our temple during
the brief period it was open. I know nothing of these ‘Courts’.”
“Then your conjectures may be incorrect – and that will not work
to our advantage.”
“I do not conjecture; I speak of facts – as you will find out
shortly.”
“It is pleasing to see that Amber now acts without recourse to
physical endeavour.”
The Archpriest looks astonished at your words.
“Amber has changed greatly my Lord certainly since the end of the Patternfall War and under the rule of Random. Perhaps now,
with a more delicate touch and by more subtle means, can much more be achieved
to promote Mira in Amber.”
He can’t believe his ears. “Listen to me, boy!...”
Alaric leans back in his chair looking upwards towards the
ceiling. He is not accustomed to being addressed as Boy and is nearly biting
his tongue.
The Archpriest purses his lips and leans forward, all pretence to
subservience gone. “If you believe Amber has abandoned the policies and methods
of millennia merely because one king has replaced another, then think again. No
King is absolute ruler in Amber, particularly not one so unused to high office
and especially not one selected by the Unicorn herself.”
He leans back, gazing sternly. “The Unicorn will not and cannot
tolerate a threat to her power and she will respond savagely; trust me on this.
You must prepare yourself for a civil war of intense viciousness – think on it!”
Alaric looks directly at the Priest. “Who am I to question such a
broad knowledge of the affairs of Amber, my Lord? My Grandfather was the
absolute ruler of Amber and he ruled Amber as he saw fit. The Unicorn herself
bestowed the Throne to Random...”
“Exactly!”
“…and it was done with Oberon’s full knowledge and blessing.”
“Are you sure? Was he there? Were you? I heard he was dead by
then.”
“Then Lord Priest you heard wrong. Oberon has absented himself.
There is no evidence of his death – and more than one of my family have
returned from the dead.”
“I assure you Oberon is dead. There were...witnesses.”
“What do you mean by witnesses? Where and when did this death
occur and how came your knowledge of it?”
“I had it from the Goddess; I suggest you speak to her.”
Alaric looks incredulously at the Priest.
The Archpriest replies with a single sardonic raised eyebrow.
“Random is not Oberon and things can and do change. You speak in
such tones of ringing condemnation of Random I might also think that you knew
him of old, Sir. He has changed – as have we all and he is surrounded by the
wisest, most cunning group of advisors that you could imagine – and for the
first time in many, many years Oberon’s children are working together. You
condemn him sight unseen. Who ordered the destruction of Mira’s temple? It was Caine of course and doubtless under Random’s
orders. Try such non-negotiable tactics again and the next church will also be
destroyed and its Priest with it.” He looks at Paolo.
Paolo looks from one to the other with interest. The Prioress
concentrates on her food. The Archpriest’s tone suddenly softens; he speaks low
and quietly, very sure of his ground.
“Prince Caine did not close our temple,
he was dead by then. I suspect it was the Princess Fiona but that is by-the-by.
Random was chosen by the Unicorn without any reference to Oberon and I can say
this because I served in Oberon’s personal guard for over two centuries and I
know how he felt about Random; he is the last person Oberon would choose as his
successor – it’s what ended his marriage with Queen Paulette. The old and new
queens now control the new King, he has always been susceptible to control by
powerful females and right now the Unicorn controls them all.”
“I have heard it said of Oberon that he was oft concerned with the
needs of his loins – but controlled by powerful women?”
“NOT OBERON, YOU FOOL!” roars the archpriest, purple with
exasperated rage. “RANDOM!” He visibly controls his temper, a pulse throbs at
his temple. “Never have I met someone so unwilling to listen to others. You are
totally unsuitable for your chosen role.”
“Try some tact and Mira shall have her worship which is what she
has asked me for. If you want a civil war than I suggest you try elsewhere,” still
spoken gently but with a steely edge to his voice; after all, family is family.
The Archpriest slumps, visibly tired and disheartened. “The
Goddess told me you were pig-headed but I thought you would listen to reason.”
He waves a hand dismissively in your direction. “Very well, try it your way but
remember my words when you feel the Unicorn’s wrath.”
“Correct me if I am mistaken Lord Priest but there are women more
powerful than Vialle and Paulette who could and do
influence the King – The Princesses Fiona and Deirdre for example? But I have
not seen the King for a few months and Vialle acts in
his interests. I hope.”
“So that is what you hope.” He gives vent to a long-suffering
sigh. “Think! The king has long been immune to his sisters but he believes his
wife and mother have his welfare at heart. Well perhaps they do but nothing is
certain; what is certain is that both women are using their relationship with
the King to enact their own policies without reference to him. Please don’t
take my word for this. Go back and search out the origins of these women and
see if I’m right. You will find they are manipulating policy both directly and
indirectly in favour of their own agendas and that of the Unicorn.”
[…and the Arch Priest is sounding as though he is family also!]
“Your words betray your lack of faith in the Unicorn, which itself
is the reason you feel nothing for her rituals, but not everyone would agree
with you. As for grounds to establish a religion, I think you have the cart
before the horse: it is her cult that created Amber, back in the dawn of time. The
after dinner game really should be the uncovering of disguises – Who are you
Sir? Or, rather who were you to speak of my family as you have? I have a
nagging suspicion that I should know you – especially if you were the other
part of a conversation I overheard with Mira.” Alaric looks him directly in the
eyes.
He frowns, somewhat like a teacher at a very dim pupil. “Oh enough of this buffoonery! In Amber I was Aiden Krownbrim, sergeant of the
Palace Guard and for two centuries Groom of the Bedchamber [that means Aiden commanded the King’s personal bodyguard]. As for
speaking about your family, why do you think I wound up as a minor officer in
some pathetic policing action?”
He rises from the table and throws down his napkin. “Now I am
Archpriest Ferdaus IV of the
“So you fell out of favour because you perceived the feral nature
of the Unicorn... or perchance you saw the machinations of those who hold the
Unicorn above all else – even Amber’s King.”
“No!” He replies from the door, without turning. “I was dismissed
for criticising Oberon’s rape of the Desecratrix.” He
vanishes, leaving the sort of uneasy silence usually left when things like this
happen at social functions.
“I have some work to finish Prioress and I shall return to my room
in Mirabeau immediately. I regret that my tone may
have denigrated your excellent table and I apologise and beg your pardon for it.”
He stands and bows.
“Messiah Richard, you will leave the hospital forthwith,” directs
the Prioress. “You seem well recovered and you have offended against my
hospitality. You are not welcome tonight.”
Alaric turns to Paolo and says “Paolo, you are summoned elsewhere
– I suggest you go sooner than later if you are to be my spiritual advisor. And
I do need one. We have some work to do before we will arrive in Amber. I will
pack your paintings in your rooms and then return to my own. I should not take
too many of your belongings with you to Amber – just your best brushes and any mementos.
We will find what we need whilst we travel. I need to borrow your painting of
Laura and that of me.”
“Um...sure! But it’s going to be a year
before I’m ready...”
“A year? Then that shall be a year
during which I shall dearly miss your friendship and guidance.”
“Ah...er...right! But don’t you think
you ought to...er...wait?”
“I have work to do in Amber Paolo – my situation there has become
somewhat complicated by your choice of enchanting model and by the consequences
of a very nasty idea that has recently come into my head. I came here to
retrieve my Trumps Paolo. I thought I did so at the prompting of my mother but
I have no evidence that my mother had said what was repeated to me. I may
therefore through my arrogance have been manipulated into coming to Mirabeau by someone else entirely – and the question
remains why? I must speak to my mother urgently because my actions may have
placed some of my red haired relatives in a difficult situation. The sooner I
can explain my actions the sooner I can start on my work for Mira.”
“Er...well, OK – you’re the Messiah.”
Alaric bows again to the Prioress. “I shall take my leave now
Prioress – thank you for your hospitality and your good care of my person.” He
turns and leaves.
After Dinner – In the Chapel
If he finds it he kneels in front of Mira’s alter and prays. “Mira
– I have not the mettle, nor the knowledge, nor the sense to take this role of
Prophet. I am pig-headed. I am wilful and I do not listen. My role is as artist
and patron. I am not a politician; Court life is dull and I am no soldier
worthy of my pay. But I will worship you for you are Art and that is what I
care for by my own admission. I submit this night.” He stays there in
meditation.
A change in the air currents tells you something has changed.
Looking up, you find Mira’s sanctum sanctorum somehow melded with the chapel,
Mira sits on her throne before you, your ‘contract’ in her lap.
“Alaric, Alaric! What am I to do with you? You are pig-headed and
you are wilful but these are the very qualities you will need to do the task
you have indentured for. What you must do is curb the outward expression of
your arrogance and learn politics and how to listen to others. I accept your
submission and your worship and while Paolo learns how to be an Iconer and your spiritual advisor, you will learn some arts
to aid you in your task. It is, after all, what you have contracted for. Now,
where shall we start?”
“I hesitate to suggest anything Lady for I am only an
apprentice...”
“Alaric, false modesty doesn’t suit you. I can tell from your
recent work that you have ambitions, now come clean and perhaps you’ll realise
them.”
“When we spoke of this before I suggested enhancement of my
perception,” he smiles, “and I have the barest inkling now of how I would
perceive the world and those about me. You suggested I should consider my
deficit in strength.”
“I still do and you will need it in the times to come.”
“In terms of Art I would like to start serious work on enabling
Trump to take on a real physicality...”
“What do you mean by this?”
“To create a Gate between distance using
Trump would be an asset.”
“I’d advise you not to learn of Trump Gates yet; they are arduous
and dangerous in extreme as well as technically difficult, requiring powers you
know nothing of...yet.”
“What would you advise?”
“In your arrogance, I wonder if you haven’t forgotten some of the
basics so let’s take things from the bottom. We know you can draw and sense
trumps; can you scry? Can you use your trump deck to ascertain
the identity of an incoming trump call? Can you blank out a trump contact
allowing the spoken word only?”
“There are vast breeches in my knowledge of the Trump Arts. When I
learn politics it would be valuable to be able to scry Trumps...”
“But you can do that already?”
“But not with finesse and subtlety Mira.”
“Then practise, Alaric. Do some work for once.”
Alaric starts to shuffle though his Deck – starting with Mira’s
own Trump and feels lightly for an identity.
As you shuffle, Mira starts tut-tutting.
“Just pass your finger over the top of the deck, it only takes a few seconds – try
again.”
You do as she says, finding you can do this without removing the
cards from the deck. It takes several attempts to get the technique right but
eventually you’re getting it right four times out of five. [BTW, the active
card is a different one each time.]
“With practise, your efficiency will rise to a hundred percent.
Now, why don’t you take this trump call [it’s Mira’s trump, this time] and try
to deny me visual contact while allowing free speech?”
Alaric clears his head and begins the [for him] slow process of
bringing Mira’s Trump to mind. When he thinks that he’s there he thinks, “Yes
Mira.”
He can’t bring her trump to mind and in any case she comes through
loud and clear within seconds. For a second you’re treated to the confusing
sight of two images of Mira before the contact ends. You notice she’s not using
a trump or apparently expending any effort at all.
She tuts
again. “Come
on, Alaric, this is basic. Trump Artistry isn’t just throwing paint at canvas,
you know. You have to be able to use the products of your labours. Now take the
card as my call comes through, study it and concentrate on hearing my voice but
keeping vision black; it may help if you close your eyes.”
Again you feel a trump contact.
OK. Alaric frowns with concentration studies Mira’s card and then
closes his eyes to concentrate on voice only contact.
You find yourself imagining Mira as well as her voice – this is
really difficult for someone with a visual mind. Mira makes you try a dozen
times before you manage to keep her blanked for over 20 seconds but you’re
exhausted.
“Better, Alaric – at last! It’s tiring at first but again
practice makes perfect and it can be useful in some circumstances, particularly
if you’re trumped in the bath. Someone could force a contact but that would be
very impolite as it involves a severe battle of wills. Well, that’s the easy
stuff, now for the intermediate? What do you know about trump artefacts?”
Alaric’s thinking – ‘hmmm so that’s the easy stuff’ and replies, “Absolutely
nothing except that I suspect that the armour you
ordered made for me may be one.”
Things go quiet...then, “You know, there are people who think this
is pretty basic, too.” <sigh> “Very well! What
is the trump quality doing to the armour and how? – Think about the nature of
Trump, now!”
“It is reinforcing the implicit qualities of the armour so that it
is ‘hard’ and protective physically for the wearer. The armour is
indestructible – as are Trump. It could contain, perhaps, some of the qualities
of the artist who created it – or, the qualities that the artist wishes to
imbue on the wearer. Trump is everywhere at every time and through all things –
it can be focussed – or channelled – and that is what we are capable of
learning and perfecting.”
“Well at least the last part made some sense but the rest was just
waffle. Of course armour is hard, though where on earth you got the idea that
Trump is indestructible, I don’t know. I’m sure I could tear yours with my bare
hands. Yes, the armour is tough but why is it tough?”
“Because the person who made it
– wanted it to be tough?”
“Don’t be specious! Now tell me, what is Trump the power of? What
has everything to do with Trump got to be?”
“It is the Power of Creation therefore everything to do with Trump
must be created by the will, focussed energy of the artist”
“And Pattern involves no will at all?” She’s relentlessly patient;
like a tutor manoeuvring a pupil into giving the right answer. “Take one of
your trumps – any one, it doesn’t matter.” [I assume you do, please state which
one] “Now, in general terms, what do you see?”
Alaric selects the old trump of him and studies it. “I see a
depiction of a person.”
“You see what? What would you see if it were a trump of a place?
What would those two things both be?”
“Those things would both be paintings...”
“Right! That is the nature of Trump – the
power of the mystic image. Now, what is the essence of that image, what is its
highest virtue?”
“Psyche?”
“I’m sorry? The highest virtue of any painting is its mind? I
think not! Try again!”
“The
skill of the artist who created it – or, its value to the creator or the patron.
Hang on what about longevity as its virtue – resistance of the Trump to
physical or mental attack.”
“If a Trump has such virtues it gets them by design rather than
from any innate quality inherent in Trump. And the skill of the artist may be
vital to its creation but can hardly be an attribute of the Trump itself; is a
spade the highest virtue of a hole? Now think! What is the highest virtue any
image can have, whether Trump or not?”
“That it is a true portrait of the person or scene depicted?”
“And where does that leave your abstractions? No, regardless of
what any work of art is or is of, what quality do we most prize in all art?”
“That it is good and true painting, a link and it will not fade by
the morning.”
“I asked what do we prize above all in
all art, not merely Trump.”
“Technique, execution...”
“You’re talking about spades again.”
“…colour...”
“We’ve both seen excellent monochrome art.”
“…and beauty…”
“At last! We get there! Beauty is the
highest aspiration of all art. So what could it protect against in the form of
armour?”
“Everything surely – including the
physical well being of the wearer.”
“Nonsense! Nothing is a universal
protector – what would the superabundance of beauty be prevention against? To
put it another way; if a thing is beautiful, what is it not?”
“If something is of beauty – it is aesthetically pleasing; it is
not ugly, dull or boring.”
“Correct! So your armour will protect you from ugliness, poor
aesthetics. You can gain a similar temporary effect using the technique of
meditating on Trump. Have you ever attempted to create your own Trump
artefacts? You are capable.”
“No. I have been mostly engaged in painting Trumps and I have
failed to make the time to experiment with the creation of Trump artefacts. I
would like to work on a sword to match the armour you have gifted me Mira. I
can ‘find’ a suitable sword but can I design and etch Trump qualities onto a
completed sword – or must it be done during the sword’s smithing?”
“It depends how deep and intense an effect you intend. Never forgetting that Trump rarely manifests in strength.
Yes, a sword to go with your ensemble might be an interesting training exercise
and with a practical application, too.”
“Strength is not what I was thinking of Mira – more skill and
elegance with sword – and perhaps speed. Skill and
elegance would be intrinsic to the design. Speed, or
swiftness in movement has been achieved by a number of artists – Turner for
natural settings and one of the Italian futurists for mechanical speed. Another
option would be to employ the methods of the “Pop Art” School and simply
engrave “Swiiiiiiing” into the scene. But then. Maybe not – that would offend my eye.”
Mira raises her eyebrows. “Alaric, I have absolutely no idea what
you are talking about: ‘pop art’? ‘Italian futurists’?”
She shakes her head as if clearing it. “But you take me too literally. I don’t
mean physical strength, I mean the power of any
effect. I have no idea how a picture on a sword can make it quicker through the
air: let me know if you discover a way. I can assure you that merely scribing
the design with the word ‘speed’ will do nothing for the weapon’s performance.”
“So now we move on…having seen your efforts toward abstract Trump,
I see your perceptions of Trump have attained a higher level. What have you
done with this heightened awareness?”
“I am considering how it might be applied to your…”
he looks at Mira and smiles, “…needs. I have not drawn a dragon since the
Renaissance. I feel almost inclined to draw one again.”
She looks slightly uncomfortable. “Exercise care with dragons,
Alaric. The beasts cannot be trusted. Like the Unicorn, they are ancient
creatures of power and their thoughts are beyond our ken.”
“Then perhaps a design from Renaissance Spain. Fine blades were
made there which were almost indestructible. That would be a virtue that I
would prize in a blade.”
“Again you speak of places in shadow of which, I dare say, I know
nothing. However, there is no way a picture can render any object ‘indestructible’.
You have some very strange ideas about Trump.”
“Equally, an Artist ought to be able to create with Trump using
all sorts of less obvious media.”
She nods.
“The designs on normal clothes for example may be politic against
certain harms – or, enhance the abilities of the wearer...”
“I’m sure we’ve both seen mystic robes worn by sorcerers, warlocks
and priests...”
“…and prophets?” Alaric enquires.”
“Oh!” she smiles archly, “I hadn’t thought of that.”
“…or, more complex ideas, such as interior design, can incorporate
Trump and could act in a variety of ways.” He looks with increased interest at
Mira’s chambers.
“Indeed!” she smiles, “Pleasant to look at, too.”
“Incidentally Mira, your Archpriest said a number of enlightening
things this evening – but one thing in particular has bothered me. I came here
on this occasion to retrieve my Trumps – and I did so in a fit of pique with my
mother. The problem is that I had no evidence but the Queen’s word that my mother
had made such a statement. This and the fact that I have not seen the King for
some time – and that his orders have come via the same Queen bothers me somewhat.
The interpretation of my behaviour by at least some of my relatives,” he rubs
his jaw reflectively, “could suggest that the redheads are involved in plotting
against the King. Frankly, I am curious as to how far my mother has been
involved – and indeed to what degree I am related to you.”
“How can I answer your questions? I know little or nothing of
these things.” She frowns. “What else has my Archpriest said that bothers you?”
“Nothing
of real consequence Mira. It is just that there has been so much said
and I am having difficulty placing people and events within the History of the
family that has been familiar to me – at least until now.”
“What evidence have you come across? From what I’ve seen, you are
poorly equipped to winnow the chaff from the corn. You must nurse your critical
as well as your creative faculties.”
“Oh I am reasonably comfortable with my critical abilities…in
terms of art. With people and more specifically my extended family I would
agree with you – but that veers towards politics and, as I know and you have
already commented, I have much to learn on the ways of politics.”
“Well you’ll just have to learn to extrapolate your critical
faculties from art to more practical matters if you are to be good at your job
or even survive in it.”
Alaric acknowledges this statement.
“Now! Before you leave, I want you
to outline action plans both for your own training and the advancement of our
joint aims.
“I think in terms of training I shall go ahead with the design of
a sword with Trump qualities. If you can recommend a particular smith in Mirabeau I would be happy to meet with him or her – alternatively
I am sure that I can find something suitable for my training. Beyond that I
have much to practice and tune. With regard to my painting I have my new trump
to complete and activate and some other pieces that I have started on since I
arrived – particularly the approach to the Cathedral in Amber.”
“I think you should find a suitable artisan without too much
trouble. Yes, practise makes perfect and you need to get a good grasp of
certain fundamentals before reaching for the exotic.”
“But how will I receive your blessing when there will be a Trump
Barrier between us?”
“I can assure you the barrier stops only communication that I wish
stopped; you will have little trouble talking to me provided you avoid mundane
Trump barriers or those few shadows where Trump does not work.”
“And what about trump scrying by others, Mira?”
“You really must learn to listen, Alaric. I said only
communication that I wish to pass may do so.”
“In terms of advancing plans I have personal business beyond Mirabeau both in Golter and Begma. From Begma I shall speak
to my cousins in Amber and try to judge the level of damage Flora’s gossip may
have caused. I will return to Amber from Begma. I
have things that I need to collect from my room and I would like to take my
part in the family’s affairs again. Not to do so will invite suspicion. I will
speak with the King regarding my plans to start a school of art in Amber – and
quietly start recruiting.”
“Begma? I’ve not heard of it.”
“It is one of the shadows that comprise the
“Well I’m sure that’s very important to you but it’s nothing to
me. However, do you really think it’s a good idea to ask the king’s permission
to subvert his realm?”
“Well to inform him that I was concerned about the lack of
contemporary art in Amber would only be polite. Equally so, if he knows a
little of what I am doing he may not suspect the whole of the matter and that
will work in our favour.”
“Mmm! I think on reflection that the
only way to educate you in these matters is to let you make your own mistakes:
sink or swim; live or die. After all, if you die, I’m sure I can replace you
with a little effort.”
“Very well Mira. You are doubtless correct in your analysis of my
plan of action – but you did say that we were to agree to a plan and we are
currently in disagreement. Given what I have recently learned about the Queen,
it is unlikely that the King will be in Amber.”
“How do you come to that conclusion?”
“He has been in absence for some small time and it would assist
some if he were not in Amber for some small time longer...”
She looks unconvinced but says nothing.
“I have little desire to speak with the Queen and I have much
desire to paint – and to help others to learn to paint. I have yet to learn of
the lay of the land in Amber and what I find will inform some of my short-term
decisions. I have every intention of both swimming and living and I would not
wish to put you to the inconvenience of replacing me.” He smiles. “But then my
skills and proclivities, as you yourself said, are valuable to you and my life
and the success of this venture are of value to me. I would sooner have your
blessing and a sign of your favour then have earned your displeasure before my
departure.” Alaric looks at her, his face stilled as if studying her to paint
her image again.”
She remains impassive for a minute, thinking. “Alaric, you have a
plan of action and I have stated my acquiescence while voicing a few caveats.
What more do you want of me?”
“Only your blessing on your prophet
before his departure Mira” Alaric replies and thinks, “for I am going to
need it.”
“Oh, that!” She smiles. “As my prophet, you will always have my
blessing upon you and this is more than a formality...” [Again, you get that
strange feeling that she reminds you of someone.] “…as long as you remain true
to my religion, of course. I cannot help you if you ignore canon, dogma and
creed – these little rituals are important.”
Alaric smiles back and thinks, “You keep reminding me of
someone Mira. Someone I should know.” He bows and smiles his thank you to
her.
When you look up, she’s gone and the chapel is back to normal.
Alaric picks himself up, collects his stuff up again and tries
again to activate the sketch he did of the Tower outside Mirabeau.
If he can – he Trumps himself to there.
Nope!