Peter’s Diary part 22:
Frolics in Faerie
in Brave New Worlds
The
final arrangements were made and we began to consider the journey back to the worlds
from which we came. Omar asked me if he might have a Trump of me – not trusting
his actions anywhere near as much as I trust my instincts, I refused. It is an
irrelevance in any case, as none such exist of me.
Ann
and I discussed Faerie, and she decided that this place is not for her. A wise
decision, I thought, as the one thing that will get you killed in Faerie
(actually, one of the many things that will get you killed in Faerie) is
hesitation.
She
and I discussed what it is to be of the Family and she worried what she would
do if Corwin tried to kill her when they meet. Perhaps unwisely, I mentioned
the Blood Curse that I was told would haunt me if I slew Rupert – Ann being Ann
she seemed to take some comfort from this.
We
met with the others over breakfast and Terisa decided
that she wished to take a weapon into Faerie – a fine idea until she revealed
that she has never wielded a weapon in anger in her life. I did my best to
dissuade her, and from there we moved on to a discussion of the mores and
ethics of Faerie, with especial reference to the carrying of Iron within the
lands of dreams.
These
scions of Amber know so little. Still, I would be there to look out for them,
so I could reassure them that nothing too untoward should happen.
22nd Goat 3659
We
returned to Amber – Asmark contacted Falasia and she allowed us across the bridge of moonlight
into her training hall, where she and Alexander were deep in discussion. We
made our apologies for interrupting and left for the Ebbs, stopping only to
pick up masks for those of my companions who do not carry one habitually. I
confess myself intrigued to see the masks that they choose.
Asmark chose first, taking a simple volto negre[1]
for himself, hiding his heart as he so often does behind formality and form. Terisa reached out for pretty sparkles, ending up with a
golden columbina, reflecting almost as much as one of
her mirrors.
We
took a Waterspider to Pook
Hill and I caught up on the business of the Ebbs; who is travelling where, what
goods are being carried, who has duelled and over whom, and what new artworks
have been created by the Claques. Arturo, the spider, knew his business well,
and I saw that he was well rewarded when we left his boat and stepped onto the
Stage.
Those
of us who would travel looked to the Faerie stone, and I pointed out to all the Pattern that bound the doorway shut.
That
plan lasted no longer than it took me to take twenty steps forward.
I
opened the gate and stepped through, breathing in deep the smoke and fancy that
are the substance of Faerie, looking at the stones that surrounded the gate. I
took the cards that Alaric gave me from a pouch and shuffled through them until
Aylwin’s face stared at me and I concentrated,
reaching out to him easily. He said that he would send Asmark
and Terisa through, and I nodded, distracted by the
approach of horses. Promising that I would talk to him shortly, I replaced the
cards in their pouch and looked to see who approached.
Three
nobles of Faerie appeared to me, their horses snorting and pawing the ground,
their armour bright and terrible, their demeanours
angry. Their leader, who introduced himself as Sir Sion,
demanded to know my reason for being in his land, and while I prevaricated, he
grew angry, threatening me that I stood in two worlds and that he could switch
me into Faerie or elsewhere at his whim. I told him my name then, and that I am
of Amber, and searching for a kinsman, but I would not name Benedict just yet.
So Sion talked of Julian and Corwin, seeking to draw
the name out of me, but I would not tell. Finally, Sion
declared that he would bring me before his Duke, so that I might ask permission
there to search for my kinsman, and we set off.
As
we walked, I tried to contact
Finally
we arrived at the court of Cromlech, Duke of Asperage,
and I made my pleasantries to him, asking him for permission to search his
lands. He granted such, and offered also to give me a letter of introduction to
Auberon, the dread king, should my search take me that
way. I counted myself blessed by his generosity, and in return offered to
entertain his court. He accepted, and I told the story of the invasion of Amber
by Dom Daniel. It was interesting to notice the reactions of his court to the
glorious defeat of such an august Prince, and their tongues were loosened by
the story, as I hoped. It seems that Auberon is close
to death, and the political pavanne begins already,
though Cromlech counted himself still loyal to Auberon,
and to Auberon’s heir, who ‘will come bearing the
signs’, and that the ‘signs may become known’. The conversations continued
around me in flutters and gasps, almost like a dying man – I hear that the
Mirrored Mask that I wear, though a gift from the Queen, is not of Seelie workmanship, and that I must choose carefully from
the many choices ahead of me.
Eventually,
I found a moment to myself and sought to talk with
He
asked if I had tried to contact Benedict yet, and I admitted that I had not,
but that I would do so forthwith, and would contact him again once I had done
so. Bending my mind to the task I found Benedict’s sleeping mind almost
immediately; proof, if such were needed, that he is nearer to here than to the
realm of Amber as was. I walked into his dream, mindful of the dangers of such,
and watched him directing a battle with the ease of long practice. I was
ignored by soldiers on both sides until Benedict himself saw me, and with a
wave of one hand launched a wave of cavalry at me while with the other pulled
the trigger of the crossbow he carried, sending a bolt flying faster than the
swiftest horse can travel my way.
I
awoke from the dream with a bruise down my side as if I had been executed like
Mongol nobility, and a gaping wound in my arm. Here,
in this place of dreams, a dream of Benedict’s anger left a physical reminder.
Shaken
somewhat, I summoned servants and had them bind my arm before I contacted