AllThatJazzIndex Swan's descent into unconsciousness does not lead to complete and utter blackness. Instead, the blackness soon resolves to the moody darkness of a smoky club. In this dream, or vision, Swan is sitting at a table in the club. It seems similar to any number of clubs in her shadow, and beyond. Onstage, a dark haired siren in green sings. "When marimba rhythms start to play Dance with me Make me sway When the lazy ocean hugs the shore Hold me close Sway me more Like a flower bending in the breeze Bend with me Sway with ease When you dance you have a way with me Stay with me..." Swan finds that she has an unlit cigarette in her hand. Before she can fix this deficiency, a voice comes, close, over the sound of the singing. "A Light?" Framed by the shadows of the club, and the light on the stage is a blond haired man standing over Swan, holding a lit lighter. An unlit cigarette is like a virgin – pretty, but useless. Swan nods to the stranger and leans forward, the gasper resting between her fingers and lips. The flame sparks nice red glow after a puff or two. A heady billow of smoke hits her lungs like satin. In an instant, she forgets that’s probably dead. Heaven or hell, she doesn’t really care, as long as the music is smooth and the liquor is hard. “Thanks, gee. Where have you been all my life?” she purrs. "Well, in all honesty." the blond haired man says "in another multiverse. And then a different one. I've only very recently arrived in the Amber-Chaos multiverse." "In all honesty, Swan, you are so far away from either pole that I am lucky to have stumbled onto you at all." he adds. "I'm Valerian, by the way. We're second cousins, once removed." Swan cocks her head and laughs musically, “Even in death, I keep bumping elbows with family.” She takes a long drag on her gasper, smiling. “At least my funeral will be popular.” Valerian squints at Swan for a moment and signals toward a waitress. "Two Stingers, please." "Nice place you have here." he adds to Swan, sitting down. “Why thank you,” Swan says, glancing around. “Not sure how I came about it, but it’s pretty rate. I’ll get up and sing you a song later. I mean, I’m dead, so what have I gotta lose?” When her drink arrives, she stirs it with the twin straws before setting them aside. “You know, you strike me as a Manhattan sorta guy.” "That's the hazard of cross-multiverse dealings. I don't even know what a Manhattan is. But I will trust your judgement..." Valerian recalls the waitress and changes his selection in quick order. And, shortly, a Manhattan is set in front of Valerian. Swan grins, “Well, if you don’t like it, I’ll shell out the cabbage for whatever strikes your fancy. And hell, we got all night. Or eternity. Whichever ends first, I garner.” "Time here is more malleable than you'd think. And less malleable, too." Valerian replies "You do know you are dreaming and not dead, right?" Valerian says, taking an experimental sip of the Manhattan. "Although you definitely are in bad shape, given where I found you in the Dreamlands." “Dreaming?” Swan chimes in shock, taking a quick sip of her drink. “Well, that takes a load off. I thought they’d fitted me for a wooden kimono.” She offers Valerian a gasper, “So apart from offering up good news – which is cool beans in my book – is there some reason you’re dangling in my lullaby time? Don’t get me wrong, ‘cause I appreciate rubbing elbows with family. But a little birdie tells me that this ain’t your run-of-the-mill meet n’ greet.” "Yes, there are good reasons for me being here." Valerian says. "Hmm, I think there are two flavors of alcohol in this, not sure." He takes another sip. "Not bad, whatever they are." "Anyway..." Valerian waves a hand. "I'll give you the short, short version, since I know now that the Omphalos don't have Onieromancy and I can be to the point. Once upon a time, your granddad Oberon had a sister, Titania. She and Oberon had a falling out, she split and created a new multiverse and started a family of her own. Said family was fractious, never cooperated on spit, although I tried to keep the peace with the piece of turf I had." "Invaders from another multiverse, the Omphalos, came and destroyed my multiverse and killed nearly everyone in my family, by destroying its Pattern. I managed to escape into the Omphalos' home universe and until recently, lurked there, gathering information, looking for a way to pay them back." He takes another sip of the drink. "The Omphalos are parasitic and solipsistically paranoid. They are afraid of other multiverses and mine wasn't the first...or the last on their list to find and destroy. I found out what is going to be their next target: The Amber-Chaos Multiverse." "I took action. I dusted off my lessons in oneiromancy and set off to warn your cousins. It was easier to find those in and around Amber, which is why I missed you on my previous go-arounds. After some exchanges and mutual aid, and the discovery of some things I was up to in the Omphalos home universe, I packed up shop and made my way to Amber. Swore allegiance to Random, the whole bit." "Now that I am established, Random has me doing stuff...including monitoring the dreamlands for threats, new family members, and others. Tonight, while wandering in the bad side of the Dreamlands, I spotted your dream. And here I am." Valerian finishes his drink. Swan sets her drink down and then takes another drag from her gasper. Her eyes lose their warmth, a wintery expression clouding her features as she listens to Valerian’s story. When he concludes, she grinds out the cigarette and leans back in her chair. “I’m lying in a gutter with sunlight shining through me and Random sends some Abercrombie to recruit me for wet-work? That’s why you’re here isn’t it? To hire a shooter?” “And here I thought I could retire.” She swigs the remainder of her drink. “You know that I’m working for the other side of the pond, right?” "Let me answer your points in reverse order." Valerian responds with a smile. "First, I do know you are on the far side of the World Tree, judging from your dream's position here relative to the Dream reflection of the Logrus. The greater Dreamlands geography reflects extremely powerful sources in reality. In fact...you seem to be practically on top of something--a Power unfamiliar to me. Its design looks like a Broken Pattern, but its more than an ordinary one, that's certain." "I suspect you are there, working for Chaos, investigating that power source. Aren't you?" Swan lights up another gasper, “I’m doing wetwork for them. Puttin’ the kibosh on a snatch job. The Power is something we gumshoed by accident. As to what it is. Don’t expect me to drop a dime on that.” Her eyes darken with warning. "Got it" he replies. He considers this for a momentg. Valerian nods and takes a sip. "Anyway, I didn't come specifically here to recruit you, although your talents would be useful the next time a Door pops up. Ask the Emperor on that subject. I mainly came into your dream to take advantage of your distressed state...to meet and greet you. It's what I do." "After all, you don't know when you might need a shooter to deal with Omphalos soldiers and mages.. Or, conversely, need the help of an Oneiromancer with a diverse background to find out something from the perspective of this level of reality." Valerian winks. Swan snorts wryly, “Well, I’ve tangled with these bastards before. Pretty sure I’m on their %^$&-list for the number of stiffs I sent packing. Not to mention slamming one of their doors back in their face. Until now, I thought they were Jesbys. So, thanks for the lowdown. And the hooch.” She finishes off her drink and then raps the table for another round. Another drink each is quickly placed in front of them. “So, your Random’s house-dick, huh? Or is that dream-dick? Does this mean I’m going to have to keep the door closed next time I’m dreaming of my moll? 'Cause having a peeper about now is sorta creeps-ville.” "You dream of your mole?" Valerian says, a confused look on his face. "Oh, moll." Valerian waves his hand. "I promise I will visit again only in excessive need...or if you give me a whistle. Otherwise, I'll treat your dream like Helias', or one of the other more violent cousins." Swan smiles around her gasper, “Wise idea, Valor. And I know how to whistle, if I run into any of those Oompa-loompas again.” "House dick, though. I like that. I'll have to mention that to the king." Valerian adds. "And if you see Merlin, tell him hello." Valerian adds. Swan raises a brow, taking note of the name. Then she remembers Caz mentioning it in passing. “Nil perspiration. Give my regards to the Gerard. I assume he’s still marred.” A playful smirk crosses her Cheshire Cat lips. "Yes." Valerian says. "Although he has had another child, not from his wife, turn up. Trump artist from a very cold shadow." “Now, grab yourself another drink,” she says, standing up. “I promised you a song. And what kind of torcher would I be if I didn’t keep my promises?” "You don't..." Valerian modestly protests. She kisses his cheek, running her hand along his arm before sauntering toward the stage. After a brief discussion with the band, she sits down at the piano. “This one is for my cousin who unexpectedly dropped in for a visit,” she explains in a purring voice. “Hopefully, you ladies won’t let him beat feet before enjoying a little of the night life. He's the cute one over at the bar.” Even in the dark club, Valerian's slight blush is evident on his cheeks. Her fingers slide over the ivory, starting a quirky little tune. “I walked in, I sat down, I threw my customary look around. I saw a fine young thing heading straight my way. Before I could think of something slick to say. She smiled and sat down and said, ‘Yes, you may.’ “She was slappin’ the cakes on me, my friend, Slappin’ the cakes on me, Slapping the cakes on me, my friend, As any fool could plainly see. “She was full of feminine expertise, She was on her toes, I was on my knees, She was slappin’ the cakes on me, my friend, Slappin’ the cakes on me. “I was mute. I was mum. I was tryin’ not to look too dumb I said, ‘I certainly hope you won’t misconstrue.’ Perhaps we might have a little drink or two. I said, ‘What’s your pleasure?’ She said, “Guys like you.” “She was slappin’ the cakes on me, my friend, Slappin’ the cakes on me, Slapping the cakes on me, my friend, As any fool could plainly see. “She grabbed my leg and gave a friendly squeeze I said Hello, sweetheart, she said, No names please! She was slappin’ the cakes on me, my friend Slappin’ the cakes on me. “We walked out, hand in hand, exactly as the lady planned. Then I moved in with my smoothest line, I said, ‘Look here, woman, what’s your sign?’ She said, ‘Later for that. Your place or mine?’ “She was slappin’ the cakes on me, my friend, Slappin’ the cakes on me. Slapping the cakes on me, my friend, Slappin’ the cakes on me. “She was a ruthless master of cool intrigue. She was over my head, I was out of my league. She was slappin’ the cakes on me, my friend. Slappin’ the cakes on me. “To tell you the truth, that’s exactly what happened, Just the other night when the lady started, Slappin’ the cakes on me, Slappin’ the cakes on me.” Her fingers dance to the end, holding the last note. She nods to her band and laughs with great warmth. It’s unmistakable how much she’s enjoyed performing. "You show unexpected talents, Swan" Valerian says appreciatively. The more-than-polite applause from the rest of the bar suggests that the other patrons concur. Swan leans back from the piano and grins brightly. It feels good to be singing again and not choking on her own blood. This was definitely a dream she could get behind. "Unfortunately, a second song is not in the cards, I think." Valerian says with disappointment in his voice. "The dream is falling apart. I suspect you are being revived and awoken." "Any last words for your cousin?" Valerian says, as a thin, leggy redhead in green takes herself up on Swan's offer and suggestion and has preceded to start to make Valerian into her personal clothes rack. “Just tell him this bindle punk is ready to give up the rails if he needs her,” Swan replies, reluctantly stepping down from the stage. “That and to watch himself. Those Oompas are packing some serious heaters. And a boiler that walks on two feet. They call it a Talos. If that thing gets through a door, you’ve got a serious problem, savvy?” "Greffet" Valerian curses. "I had seen a prototype of their Colossi back when I lived there. I suppose they have moved up their design timetable and actually put one into service. Not good." He looks thoughtful. She crosses over to the bar and grabs another drink. If she’s going to wake up soon, she plans to take advantage of her surroundings first. As Swan takes her drink, she notices that the glass, and the bar have been leached of what color is available here. Valerian takes a gulp of drink, letting the glass rattle on the table. The redhead (whose hair is not so fiery anymore) wrapped around him is briefly startled. "Listen, Swan, about the Colossus. The Talos. You need to tell Merlin about this when you meet him once you get to Chaos." Valerian frowns. "If the Omphalos are using things like that, that means that they are escalating their war effort in a bad way. Not good for Amber or Chaos. I need to.." Swan cannot quite hear what Valerian says he will do. For, at last, the Dream comes to a rapid end. Like a strange reversal of the Wizard of Oz, first the entire bar, except for Swan and Valerian, turns completely monochrome. And then, the whites darken to black, and all becomes grey, or black, and formless. Valerian's face, speaking urgently but silently, is the last thing Swan sees before she awakens... Backlinks |
