Grímnismál 34

The personal diary of Sorashi, daughter of Deirdre, pt 19

I am to have my official portrait painted by House Hierophys, Asfar politely informs me.

So I go and sit for a while on a comfortable but straight-backed chair whilst endeavouring to look haughty and masterful for a very long time.

There are lulls, in which I can stretch and avail myself of the refreshments, then back to haughty and masterful and hoping it is the same degree of such as before. There is the scritching of brushes, the faint hum from the artist and the smell of paint, the almost pearlescent light filtering from somewhere and stacks of canvasses leant against the walls. Apart from this, it is as though it is just myself and the artist enclosed in a soap bubble in the vast emptiness of the Void.

Eventually, it is (nearly) finished and I can take the Tiara off. I insist on a look at the picture, despite the mild protests, and I am quite impressed.

Unlike the Trump of me, it has little symbolism – I sit in the Lion Courtyard (not quite finished, I am repeatedly told), holding my hunting knife like a sceptre of office. My eyes are the orange of a tiger, and there is the suggestion of fangs in the set of the mouth.

The Tiara adds to the ambience of control – I almost can't believe it's me.

But duty, as ever, calls – I have visitors. No, actually, I have requests for audience.

The first is a deputation from House Anura, in Barimen form – they introduce themselves as Ascaphus, Fuscus and Pelodytes, members of the ruling council. They offer their formal apologies for the attack on Amber which, as they owed fealty to House Chanacut, they were forced to partake in and offered reparations in the form of a crystal vial of Anurix – Anurix, I assume, is the name for the contents rather than the vial itself. This is, apparently, useful against dragons.

I must remember to get someone to find out how it is actually used.

They also offer friendship to Amber – not so much reparations, but, as Fuscus explained, their house is now predominantly of Amberite stock. It makes sense, and I agree that such would be a logical path to the future.

Next is Premier Gruul, of House Chanicut. His apology is more polished and therefore less heartfelt than the first – it was politic to wash the feet of Amber, so he came to wash and I listened politely and (to stretch the metaphor) proffered the requisite feet to be washed.

Reparations were this time in the form of a cloth of fish-hide and a short spear (though taller than me) of a tusk from a creature called a nar-whall. It functioned underwater to give its bearer some type of warning of danger and its name was Torgak. These were accepted on behalf of Amber with the requisite ceremony.

I manage to surprise him when, in response to his asking if there was anything else I wanted, I told him I wanted to know why.

He seemed at a loss for less than a second, but said that the prior head – Tubbel – was vehemently anti-Amber and pro-Swayvil. The attack on Amber was the result of these – I think the phrase used was misbegotten – impulses.

I suppose it is a basic move to blame the recently deceased, so my feelings about his trustworthiness did not change much – though I have no reason to accuse him of lying.

The third visitor was Princess Saoirse of Barimen – now an assured and confident young woman. She had come to advise that the Court was ready to take food to Amber, and that a banquet was to be held where the Amber army now was, so that the transporting of the army to Ygg could be discussed.

I thank her for her visit, and wished her to convey my fond regards to her father. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Dirk not quite succeeding in hiding a smirk. I shoot him a sharp look and he inspects the far wall for a while.

Not a man to whom an innocent demeanour finds a natural home, that one.

He says nothing about the Princess, but complains that he has been given a demon, some sort of concubine-demon and tries to give it to me but I refuse to accept it, telling him to sort it out himself. He mutters something about 'what am I supposed to do with her' but I am not his mother or his wife, and it is really not my problem. I do forbear telling him so, however.

Lastly, Rama arrives to advise that the repairs are proceeding apace – I feel, somehow, that he finds his new role somewhat dull so I ask his opinions on a possible Amber embassy and the ramifications thereof, and drop hints about security and increased responsibility.

This cheers him up, if moustache-stroking is anything to go by.

My House duties discharged for the moment, I find Dirk is still concerned about his problem, and still has a somewhat childlike desire for me to solve his problem for him.

As though I have any insights into a demon's psyche! A similarity in outward appearances is the sole similarity – slightly more tartly than I intended, I tell him to ask the creature what she wants as the only clear way to resolve this.

He looks rather surprised at this, as though this had never occurred to him. 'Might work, I suppose' is his response.

Looking at the spear in my hand, he wonders if it is properly the property of the new king – I had not had time to consider this, but my initial instinct is that it is mine, passed to me personally as head of the House in my temporary capacity as ambassador for Amber.

Whether I might or should, in the future, give it to him, is something I will have to consult the Family on.

Talking of which, I Trump Benedict to advise him of the banquet to be held at Amber's present location. He does not seem surprised – possibly he has already been informed – but spots the spear.

'Interesting' he says, indicating it.

'Yes, it is a reparation gift from Gruul of House Chanicut – its name is Torgak'. He then surprises me by correcting my pronunciation – it's a weapon, of course he would know about it.

But he changes the subject, asking if we were ready to return. We are, pretty much, so an hour later, we are all Trumped through.

The men-at-arms seem very relieved at this – Kirgiz's gentle ministrations are not apparently universally appreciated, it seems. And I do not miss the migraine I would have had to endure.

I am debriefed, and a few hours afterwards, figures start flying in – the ambassadors from the Courts, and then the food starts arriving. Everyone capable of moving is roped in to moving and storing it whilst the banqueting rooms build themselves.

Fiona warns all of us not to use Pattern – I am proud of the way I do not immediately look for Constance, even though she is still at Ygg. Apparently, she is staying there, voluntarily or under orders, I do not ask.

I am seated between Melvin, which is good fortune, and William, which is not. To be honest, it is mainly his obvious contempt for me which rankles most, though I cannot understand any man who gave no thought to the accommodations for his bride on their wedding night – I assume she must love him, or need him sufficiently to put up with his company, but I cannot help feeling sorry for her a little.

I can only hope he ignores me. Opposite me sits Prospero and Ariadne, which is a little more bearable – one can have some measure of conversation with them, though neither are well-known to me.

I miss Tajal – I hope she is doing well in Ygg.

Queen Fuchsia sits at King Melvin's left hand – she is already pregnant again. I have a pleasant conversation with them both, complimenting Princess Saoirse on her diplomatic skills and discussing Amber (Melvin is taken with the idea of at least one of their offspring being educated in Amber) and completely ignoring William. Fortunately, whatever he is doing, clutching his hands to his heart and declaiming 'Truuu lurve' in childish tones is not one of them.

One must be grateful for grains of comfort.

I cannot monopolise Melvin, obviously – he is in conversation with Bleys (I think) and Benedict about the attacks, for which he apologises, and possible methods of getting our army to Ygg.

The banquet ends, Melvin and Benedict are still discussing the matter – it seems sigils are the favourite method so far.

The hall, plates and so on can be ignored – Chaos will take care of those. Before she leaves, I go to speak to Queen Fuchsia again, mostly to say goodbye and tell her of Tajal's successes. She listens kindly, and tells me that I am 'their personal favourite' and reminds me the offer still stands if I wish to take it up. I am flattered, and do not reject it permanently (for, who knows what the future holds?) and allow them to take their leave.

Surpanakha and I fly reconnaissance again after we (well, I) sleep, so we have forewarning of more Chaots arriving to facilitate the mass transport of our troops.

The plan is to trump me to Ygg to do aerial reconnaissance and guide beasts and wagons to the right position, but as so often happens, the plans are changed by the time one encounters them.

I am introduced to a female called Alitta, pleasant-featured and unremarkable in demeanour – a Chaot who has been seconded to the group at Ygg to provide the same function as me. Her flying form is a raptor with sandy-hued feathers, more efficient than mine.

Unexpectedly, I meet Mirza Rama from Indra. After formal greetings, he advises that they approve of the portrait – it is a fitting image and 'completes the gallery'. He leaves with my best wishes to his House, and to my vizier.

My first flight takes me half a league or so from the large tree at the centre of Ygg – the wagons need little guidance from me, and after a while I return to rest and find Tajal.

She gives me a hug and tells me she has missed me – though she has worked hard at the field hospital, and is happy to prattle of her experiences as I eat.

But, happy reunions aside, there is work to do – Alitta has been paired with me for another flight, so we set off in overlapping sweeps.

About 15 minutes in, I see something concerning – 2 of the rear wagons are slower than the rest, gradually being left more and more behind their fellows. And completely unaware that they were being stalked by a group of rough-looking humans, these in turn being followed by a couple of dozen serpent-like beings of superior armour and weaponry.

I attract Alitta's attention then swoop down to warn the wagons – Alitta flies off to warn Julian.

Therein lies my first problem – I can either change or fly, not both, but fortunately my form has speech so I come down lower and shout, 'Ambush! From the rear!' One of the soldiers readies a crossbow, but it is pushed down by his companion.

I fly up again, to see the serpents split into 2 columns – classic pincer movement – but I fly above and give away their positions.

One of them casts a spell, which stings like a scorpion – angered, I swoop to engage. A strike from my rear legs ends his life, his head rolling off his spindly neck like a ripe mango from a fence post – unfortunately, I get hit by his compatriots in the left leg and flank.

Both hurt, but my flank burns and itches like acid, I feel almost breathless as my brain fogs. I cannot fly in this state.

I land hard and change – now I am naked and woozy and grounded, but fortunately not near enough the serpents to be in imminent danger of attack. Sounds of combat reach me; it seems the wagons have joined the fray.

Alitta swoops down and only her head shifts to her Barimen form (must remember that one, for future) to assess my condition – I ask for clothes and for someone to Trump me through to Ygg.

A silky blue robe from a dead serpent is passed to me by an embarrassed-looking young Amberite – hardly have I put it on than Fiona trumps me and I am pulled through.

Of course, the robe is immediately torn off, but I am finding it hard to focus and almost impossible to care. I see Tajal's face, white and shocked, other faces appear above me – all look worried.

I can feel my thigh wound knitting, but my side feels hot and wrong.

I have been poisoned, you silly girl, it will probably kill you if you do not do something.

My breathing is fast and ragged, my heart races, as people shout for Isis and are told she will not be ready for some time. It is up to me now.

Pushing everything else out of my mind, I focus on my breathing. Slow and shallow, in and out, stay still, stay calm. My pounding heart is harder to tame, but my breathing slows, my heart slows, the pain is irrelevant now, slow my breath, slow my heart, cool the burning within, the fear is unimportant, keep the breath slow and shallow, the heart slow and regular.

Breath and heart.

There is nothing else.