Peter’s Diary part 15: Politics & Silver Horseshoes

In The Doom that Came to Amber

 

3rd Snake 3658 – noon

Scribbled notes; the kind I have taken many times during battles so that my memory is refreshed when it comes time to tell the story. The city is quiet, but the war is not far from here and now.

 

I awoke midday and repaired to luncheon, where Aylwin was reporting to the Princesses Flora and Bathsheba as to the state of the city. The militia have split into three parts; with the forces of the Unicorn, of Mira and those few loyal to the City who have joined the Aldermen in the Guildhall trying to maintain the fragile quiet. We also had news of Danesh, the Captain of the Guard, who had been badly wounded in the fighting on Vine Street. There was looting throughout the city, and ships at the wharfs were being looted. The fundamentalist forces of the Unicorn were leaving for Kolvir, and were being let out. The orders at the Northgate were not to let them in again.

 

Aylwin went to look to Danesh and Asmark joined us. As we ate, we planned. Asmark and Flora were to remain in the castle where they might both work to calm those nobles who had sought sanctuary, whilst Bathsheba and myself were to head for the naval dockyards – these being easier to defend and fortify than the sprawl of the rest of the docks. From there Bathsheba would take the Amber Northern Fleet to sea to intercede with the merchantmen who bore food and other essential supplies, that they might dock in safety and continue to trade. Comment was made that no city is more than two meals from savagery; a sentiment I find myself in agreement with.

 

We affected this plan, being joined by Montfort, a friend of Asmark’s and an officer in the troops from Garnath (wheresoever that might be) camped on the lower beach. I noticed with some amusement that whilst Asmark saw fit to introduce Montfort to Bathsheba, with her full honorifics, he made no such courtesy to me. Still, he is very young; perhaps a little out of his depth in a crisis? I shall watch how he acts with interest in this conflict as the tempest that surrounds us all will show each in their true colours come the time of testing.

 

We mounted and rode to the dockyards, heading through an area called the Dials as we did; this place being known for the statue of the Unicorn that commands it. There we saw many of the followers of the Unicorn, and though they cast black looks at Bathsheba (and at myself, if truth be told) for our parts in the defence of Vine Street not 12 hours previously and the deaths of many of their comrades at our hands, they still gave us nothing but respect even though they outnumbered us many to one. In part, I think, there was the reputation of those present but still more so was the place of those of the Blood in the eyes of the City.

 

Plants now wrap the Unicorn, and they fruit, though the fruit is not yet ripe; a metaphor, were this a story, for the newfound enthusiastic worship of the beast? Still growing, still changing, its final flavour yet to be decided? I placed the rest of the fruit in my knapsack, wishing I could dispose of these other vexing problems as easily.

 

At the docks there was good order. The commodore had taken the Marines from the ships in port and had garrisoned the docks with them, with a triple guard on the gate. He had made effort to strengthen the walls and to repel boarders when they approached, though he accepted the authority of the Crown with alacrity.

 

As Bathsheba assessed the fleet, I had the Commodore escort me around the defences. He had made a good start, but had not the authority to go as far as I wished, so I took command, ordering that the warehouses be stripped of the lumber, rope and other building materials and the defences strengthened with them. The space thus freed could be used for food were Bathsheba to be successful in her mission.

 

As this was being done, we were hailed from the gate. Count Faiella Bionin and his son, Lord Golconda were there, with Lord Eagle and Count Belith and his son, Lord Wallmart. With their retinues they offered their services in the defence of the dockyards. With the advice of the Commodore, who rated them all as loyal to Amber, I let them in and assigned them to roles in the defence, which they accepted. Perhaps Lord Henge had spoken to them first?

 

Meanwhile, Bathsheba took detachments of Marines and, while daylight hours remained, started to ferry foodstuffs from outlying warehouses to our more defensible centre. She introduced the concept of ‘Hearts and Minds’ though I know it by another name; were we to offer food to the citizens of Amber surrounding us, slowly we could start to take the city back. This surprised me, I will admit. I would have thought she would have held to a slightly different motto. Still, in order to ward against treachery, we conspired a surprise. The Garnath Horse are to stable in a warehouse within signalling distance of the Dockyard, so that if there is a riot that the Marines cannot deal with, we may call on them to descend upon the rioters from the rear.

 

These plans were quickly made, with little discussion between us. Again, I marvelled at the ability of this princess when in her element.

 

The day passed quickly and the first vagrants started arriving with the dusk, seeking alms. As the night descended, more citizens of Amber joined us, seeking food and security, and offering information in exchange. There was talk of miracles on Kolvir, where the Unicorn’s bounty fed all its followers, and of troops in Mira’s colours patrolling the city in number. This worried us, and with Bathsheba’s permission, I took a small detachment of marines to investigate.

 

We found the rumour to be true; Miran troops in good order were riding through the city, and I found one of their main patrols, lead by a scion of Amber dressed in black, with lightning flashes at his throat.

 

He and I talked of matters of philosophy; his hand on his dagger, and mine on the nock of the arrow aimed at his left eye. We discussed the nature of authority, and from whence it came; his feeling that he with the most soldiers ruled. I forbore to comment.

 

We talked of mothers, and how their wishes often conflicted with one’s own, and we talked of Goddesses, and their desires.

 

We talked of arrows, and daggers, and death curses and whether they would catch on one whose soul was only half of Amber, and half of Faerie.

 

And we talked of our superiors. Rupert was to report to another, and I to Julian. We were to reconvene at dawn, with a promise of no treachery and a resolution to the matter of our philosophical dilemma – who bore authority within Amber; myself, as properly appointed Sheriff, or he, as leader of 2000 warriors.

 

We did not talk of whether his dagger arm was faster than my arrow. Some things gentlemen do not talk about.

 

I returned to Bathsheba and she informed me that Rupert was the son of Flora, which caused me to consider how much I would regret having to tell the Princess that I had killed her son, given the kindnesses she had shown me. And Bathsheba spoke to Julian, though he gave no indication as to the matter of Authority that she saw fit to pass on to me.

 

It is three hours until dawn, and my mind quests towards Faerie. In part, it is a search for a dream – I would speak to the Titania before I meet with this Rupert again, and enquire of her what price she would levy from Amber were Faerie troops to ride and ride fast to its defence.

 

And I begin to weave a story; of dragons and warriors and armies, and all the noise and light and smell and taste and feeling that those creatures create, and I weave the magics of Faerie into that story. Save for one word. One lynchpin.

 

For if Rupert asks politely enough, I may show him a story of Faerie.

 

Perhaps.

 

Look at this square; the place we are in, empty of people. The tables and umbrellas put away, the chairs stacked, the pavements swept. This place is empty here and now, sleeping while the city sleeps. This place here is an empty stage; this is where our little drama will play out.


Look at the space. Look at the shape. Look at the boundaries that are defined herein. Like the bottle shapes the wine, this area will shape magics constraining this battle to here. Here and now. Now.


Over there my left wing. There stand the creatures of nightmare arrayed for battle. Their sulphurous steeds stamp and chomp their bits and bridles bright in the predawn light. Theirs is the stuff of the dreams you half remember, cold sweat dripping down your back as you sit upright, your breathing laboured, and your sleeping partner undisturbed. They stand ready to charge headlong into your psyche tramping your memories underfoot as their lances spear into your soul.


And there on my right, the creatures of dawn to balance the dusk. They glow with a light that burns from inside brighter than the morning star and a clear cold gaze that is sharper than swords. Their contempt for your creatures is apparent in every gesture they make. Fear them, because they have judged your every action with justice in mind. Is your soul white enough to withstand them as they move towards you?


The centre? That is the powerhouse of my force; the creatures of the noonday sun. There stands the elves of Faerie laughing and jesting as they prepare for war, the songs and jokes of my people sounding of summer’s heat. They are the least puissant of my force, and yet they stand more steadfast than any who you may call your own.


And the reserve? The reserve sits coiled around the temple to the south , her fire smouldering yet ready to be stoked in the cause of righteousness, coils? Fire? Your eyes widen and with cause for my reserve is the Dragon Kessell; called forth to this very struggle and willing to shed your blood in defence of the city.


Your blood, note. She will happily wade through the pitiful creatures you have rallied to your cause. Have you told them of the coin they will receive in your service? Blood and death. That is the pay they will receive here. Here and now. Now.


So rally, princeling, the dross and flotsam and jetsam that you call soldiers. Rally your terrible troops. Rally them.


Then die!