IledelaCiteIle De la CiteWhy are you here? Why not? Its been a shock, to learn who your father really was, and really just how much he fell down on the job in abandoning you and Mom. Great job, Dad. You did get a brief visit to Amber, and now have power over worlds...shadows, they called them. And you've walked shadow every since, seeking who and what you are. Are you more than human? If you are, then do humans, people in shadow count? Why should you care? Its a peculiar sort of freedom, and one you are still learning to control. There are some benefits, though. Paris, for instance. This is not Paris back on Earth, but its better in some ways. Either they are speaking English, or whatever language they speak here, you understand it and speak it and read it. You can explore the City of Lights without any difficulties whatsoever. Or so you'd think, anyway. Walking through the streets, heading towards the Champs-Elysees, you suddenly hear something quite close by that should not be. You didn't ask for danger, or trouble or anything like that. But yet the peaceful morning is punctuated by a sharp, loud explosion. I didn't recall ordering an explosion for this morning. Still, if the little Shadow denziens found it necessary to blow each other up, who was I to argue? I seated myself at a table at a nearby outdoor café, and ordered a /café au lait/, a croissant, and a little cheese platter. Surely, if anything were truly the matter, I'd hear about it in due course. There is some distraction on the part of the waitstaff, as well as the other patrons. The explosion is clearly not in the usual run of things, since people are worried, walking in its direction, and there is excited chatter about what it all might be. Still, perhaps because Dagny walked to a shadow where the staff is robust, the order is taken and the balding man in black and white heads off to fulfill her order. As the waiter puts down her order, as well as a complimentary copy of Le Monde, more distraction begins to wash Dagny's way. First are the people running down the streets, past the cafe where Dagny sits. Excited chatter runs into more bone chilling screams, yelling and a new, familiar sound. Gunfire. People are starting to duck inside of buildings or heading away from the area, leaving Dagny by herself at her table. Well. Not even Amberites are impervious to bullets, unfortunately, leaving me at a bit of a disadvantage. I didn't have Mjolnir on me, which I had learned over the years lent a certain immunity to gunfire when wielded. I swallowed a hot mouthful of fresh coffee and decided on a course of action. My skin densified and hardened, forming a sort of armor, and looking a bit shinier than usual. It ought to deflect anything up to and including a .22 bullet. I then conjured up one of my favorite weapons, a .44 Magnum with enough BOOM to shatter glass, plus of course a couple clips of jacketed hollow-point ammo. As I slid one of the clips home, I cast Mind Masque to, well, make myself a bit less obvious until I could gauge the situation. And so did I head into the fray, towards the source of the chaos. The Masque is useful in avoiding direct attention. This is useful, in that nearly everyone is fleeing away from the maelstrom, and those who are moving in that direction are rapidly becoming targets. There are more reports of gunfire, both of the ordinary sort, and some gunfire that sounds unusual to Dagny. She finally does come to a traffic circle, where a half ruined monument is surrounded by an ever widening circle of uniformed men and women. They are all wearing swords and carrying rifles, and using those rifles at anyone who stands their ground and tries to repel their advance. Dagny does have the advantage of not being noticed, so this allows her to see some things that she might not have time to, if she were under fire. Item: Some of the soldiers have clumped and moved in the direction of one of the other streets that feed into this traffic circle. What is more, there is gunfire being traded in both directions there. More importantly and oddly is where these soldiers are coming from. Near that ruined monument, in the center of everything, stands, bereft of a frame or a building, is a bronze door. A door that is standing ajar, and men and women are coming out of the door, from someplace, somewhere else. One of the soldiers near the door, though, dressed in a softer, less severe uniform than the rest, is looking around the area with binoculars. Although she is mainly looking in the direction of the firefight, her eyes are scanning the entire half of her vision, and Dagny can feel a tingle every time her gaze sweeps over in Dagny's direction. Also, while they clearly cannot see her, the outermost ring of the soldiers will soon be where Dagny currently stands. None of this is supposed to be here. What is happening? I quickly glance around the square, and select a building a few stories high with windows that overlooks the action and gives me a clear shot at the Observer. Mentally calming and redirecting any protests that I may encounter from the building's owners or occupants, I scurry around the soldiers and set up shop in the window. I conjure up a sniper rifle with a REALLY powerful scope, a clip of silver bullets and one of basic hollow-jackets, and cast "3rd Ear" upon the lady with the binos.... Getting up to the third floor of the apartments that lie above a bakery is relatively easy for Dagny, especially since she is not really being paid attention to, save by possibly the woman with the binoculars. By the time Dagny reaches the window and spends the couple of minutes it takes to get the gun prepared, there is a report of more gunfire, a trading of fire between these soldiers and some other force. Her surface thoughts come to Dagny, although there is a bit of interference. She has mental shielding which Dagny's formidable skills and mental strength allow her to penetrate, but Dagny cannot maintain it for too long without giving away the telepathy. Blocking Dagny, though, would be much harder on the woman's part. "...All right, so there is at least one sniper there, Using arcane spells mixed in with the gunshots, though, must be a mage of some sort. And there's another one around, I am sure of it. Disguised and cloaked, a scout of some kind. Only one thing to do then, and up the ante..." And then her voice booms out, amplified. Dagny has to tone down her ability, it comes through so clearly in her thoughts. "Attention enemy spellcasters." the lady with the binoculars announces, without aid of a visible microphone. "Your resistance is futile, and worse, is counterproductive. Continuance of your defiance will result in the deaths of the citizenry, and the destruction of this city and yourselves in the process. Cease all hostile activities and surrender, immediately." And then, lower but still amplified. "Bring forth the Talos." It then occurs to Dagny. The woman is not speaking French or even an unfamiliar language. She is speaking the language of Amber. She is speaking Thari. From the vantage point of her story window, its difficult for Dagny to get a good look, but she can see that something large, and stooped is bending down to fit through the Door. /Screw this/, I thought. Whatever that thing coming through the door was, I was sure it wasn't going to be selling Girl Scout cookies. I didn't come to this Shadow to lead the populace in a battle worthy of commemoration in an Andrew Lloyd Webber musical. If that uniformed lady wanted control of a bunch of Shadow people, well, that's her hang-up, not mine. I started Shadowshifting by walking around the room. I shifted till I found a similarly unoccupied room in a safe Shadow. I then made my way across the city back to my hotel. Dagny is able to shadowshift without much trouble. As she begins to do so, walking about the room, there is a distant, muffled sound, but, then, Dagny is away from that shadow and free and safe. Safe. Navigating the alternate Paris is relatively easy, since the layout is almost identical to the original one. As she proceeds, however, Dagny begins to notice that this shadow is taking darker and more ominous tones as she walks down its streets toward her destination. The blue skies have turned cloudy, the alleys look a little darker, a cold breeze blows down the boulevard. Again, this is certainly not something she served up. Definitely not. I was very much disliking this. As I walked back to my hotel, I started to Shift back to the Paris from which I started, rather than wait till I got closer. The shifting is difficult, and not as easy as Dagny expects it to be with her growing and burgeoning experience. Changes come, but slowly, but they do come, its not a futile experience. The clouds finally disappear, the darkness lightens, the oppressive elements put at bay. Its an effort, but Dagny finally puts the final touches only when she reaches the Hotel itself. The agitation and confusion around the conflict has not, Dagny will be relieved to know this spot, somewhat distant from the cafe at the fateful square. That, of course, will not last long. Well. I was finally here. I headed up to my room and retrieved my gear, slinging Mjolnir over my shoulder. I left a nice tip for housekeeping on the nightstand, and headed downstairs. I checked out and had my car brought to the front curb. Taking the wheel, I just started driving through the Paris streets. Whatever was going on here, it certainly had nothing to do with me. I wondered, though, if this hostile takeover was limited to the immediate area, or if the whole Shadow was being systematically invaded. And why on Earth (heh) was this place so damn important to the lady with the binos? I found myself heading West, out of the city. The map I had stashed in my dashboard showed Versailles was only 24 km southwest. Maybe they would have some coffee... With the tumult in the city only slowly spreading outwards from its core, Dagny has no real problem driving out of the city and toward the site of the Sun King's palace. While the roads may be choked and confused later, right now its relatively normal traffic as Dagny crosses the Seine and heads toward the enormous grounds and building that make up the park. At least, its a park back on Shadow Earth. Here, of course, it might be different, a variable in her shadow shifting. There is no sign of problems, though, as she arrives in a parking lot for tourists. The lot is mostly full, a sign that the gardens and edifice are as popular here as they are back on Earth. Although there is a cafe here at the entrance, there is a larger restaurant and cafe on the grounds. Between here and there, Dagny might wander around herself,, join a tour of the gardens, or, for a higher sum, get a personal guide. While a guide might provide interesting tidbits of information, for the moment I preferred to wander around on my own. I slung Mjolnir over my back again, safe in its scabbard and cover, and, paying my entrance fees, set about to wander among the grounds and gardens. I might consider joining a group when it came to the palace, however. The prospect of being lost in the former domicile of Louis XVI was not a pleasant one! Versailles is beautiful, an island paradise. Fountains, gardens of various sorts, sculptures, and views of the main building itself. Versailles lives up to its not inconsiderate reputation. As Dagny wanders through, though, she hears murmurs from various people that she passes, dressed in thirties fashions, rumors of something bad happening in the "Cite". Knowledge of the attack is slowly infusing its way into this paradise. But it is something else entirely that is cause for concern, and perhaps explanation of a few things. Dagny makes a turn, and comes across a horde of warning sides, exhorting in various languages that entry into "The Perilous Garden" is not permitted, that entry is a crime, and other such warnings. Where the Perilous Garden is located is behind a large square area fenced off by a tall hedge. There is an opening in this hedge, flanked by a pair of Gendarmes, but its easily wide enough that Dagny can see what is within. Within is a cleared space about the size of a football field. A glow rises from the ground, in a shape that is incomplete, but is familiar to Dagny. Not only because it speaks to her blood, but because she has seen something very much like this, some time ago. Its not quite the same shape, even if it were complete, but the resemblance is close enough that it couldn't be anything else. It's a Pattern. Incomplete and broken...but a Pattern nevertheless. Well. Last thing I would have expected to find here. Perilous garden, indeed! That the Pattern was broken...well, it almost hurt, to see it incomplete and distorted. What caused it? How would one walk such a thing? Could one? I wondered if anybody had tried, and what had happened to them. I considered talking to the gendarmes, but decided that would be a futile course of action at this point. Later, perhaps. I sought an information booth with few people waiting for assistance, or a tour guide or employee who appeared to be at loose ends. There are information booths to be found. Fortunately, Dagny preternaturally finds an employee of the gardens who is unoccupied and is happy to speak to Dagny. Her english is heavily salted with French words and her accent as she regards Dagny through round lensed glasses. "I am very curious about the Perilous Garden," I said to whomever, trying to sound like an inquisitive tourist. "Who made it? It is a sculpture? What makes it glow like that? How long has it been on display? Why are there gendarmes? Why is it illegal to see it?" etc., etc. "Mademoiselle asks many questions." the tour guide replies. Ah, obviously the Jessica Fletcher of Versailles. "Je suis une Américaine," I said. "If we were not curious, we would have no function." Oui, there are not many reliable records of its existence before his time, and it is known that he employed sorcerers in his court" I smiled in what I hoped was an indulging manner, at the idea of sorcerers outside of a fairy tale. It is known that walking too near, or onto the design itself, is invariably fatal, despite its beauty. "Oh my!" I said, sounding shocked. "Fatal?" "The current theory is that the site is a location of natural radio-ac-tivity, such as our very own Marie Curie studied." the guide finishes. "Mais Oui, Madame," I replied. "Radiation is surely un chose mystérieuse. That must be it. Merci." I smiled and, casting a last, obvious, worried glimpse at the Perilous Garden, hurried off in the opposite direction. I found a restaurant and ordered an extremely late breakfast/lunch/whatever, as well as that belated /café au lait/. The discussion in the restaurant, as well as the mood of its patrons, has shifted subtly in the time that Dagny has been in Versailles. There are rumors whispered, worried looks, and a general tense air about the place. This does not, however, stop Dagny from getting her food and her café au lait without much difficulty, although the service is a bit slower than she might like. After satisfying that urge, another itch needed to be scratched. I again cast Mind Masque upon myself, and, checking for J.B., approached the entrance to the Perilous Garden. I enter, and see what I can see. The Mind Masque works very well, as Dagny slips from the cafe, and back to the entrance to the Perilous Garden. The guards remain oblivious to Dagny, and since they aren't forming an impenetrable cordon of bodies, Dagny is able to gain entrance into the space. Bordered by that high hedge, the size of the space is roughly what Dagny remembers is the size of the Pattern Room, based on her own experience with one. The design itself is distinctly different, as she now can regard it from close range. It has the same general shape, with the same handedness as the original Pattern, but there are some subtle differences. Perhaps with more study between an image of each one, Dagny might be able to better pinpoint them, but looking at this Pattern, if it were whole, it would be a close but not perfect match. Of course, this Pattern is not whole. While the energy conduits seem active throughout, there are gaps in the design, where the design seems to be incomplete. These gaps range from a stride to several strides in length. Most of these gaps are complete missing portions of the design, although there is at least one portion where the design actually narrows to what appears to be a single line, or two lines seperated by an infinitesimal distance apart. The design crackles with energy, a physical feeling that runs into Dagny with a mild tickling sensation. I shuddered as I remembered the last time I stood facing the Pattern. That had not been easy, or pleasant. There was certainly no way in hell I was ever going through that again, and certainly not with a Pattern missing its pasta course, so to speak. Still, it seemed that the presence of an incomplete Pattern was somewhat of an anomaly, and an important one. This Pattern was an incomplete sentence, a Mad Lib gone horribly wrong. But how would those verbs and adjectives be supplied? Who wields the pencil in a case like this? What does this broken Pattern MEAN? There was perhaps one person I was willing to ask that question; so, standing on the edge of this beautiful disaster, I shuffled out a card from my Trump deck, and attempted to make contact with the subject it depicted. /Bhangbadea/? I queried. Dagny concentrates on the card, bending her not inconsiderable mental strength to the effort. Its far more of an effort than Dagny expects. Lack of practice? Distance to the subject? Her current location? Some other factor? Its difficult to know just why the contact is difficult, but as Dagny reaches for the mind of the Witch from Ersia, she realizes that it would take all of her mind, all of her strength, to make a significant chance of any contact at all Undoubtedly, there would be risk involved, in trying to do so. But its clear that the circumstances have made a casual attempt at contact with Bhangbadea impossible. /Shit/. Not good, not good. I hoped Bhangbadea was okay. By my estimation it had been years since I had seen her, but I had not forgotten her. Plus my cat liked her, which was good enough for me. It would have been nice to see her again, especially now, when I had a problem to solve. I bet she would have found it an interesting puzzle. So. What choices did I have left? /Well/, I thought to myself, /he might as well be good for something/. I leafed through my deck again, this time pulling out Luke's. I sighed and concentrated on his visage. /Hey Dad/, I sent. /Gotta question for you./ The contact is less difficult than the one which Dagny attempted to contact Bhangbadea. This one is more guarded, though, and Dagny can almost sense a suspicious concentration of the contact. Finally, however, the contact opens, to reveal Dagny's father. He is in the corner of a room, and he furrows his eyebrows as the red haired man who calls Dagny his daughter regards her from a bed in the corner of an ornate room where he seems to have privacy. He seems slightly bemused but also slightly pale looking. "Given the state of things when we parted, I hadn't expected you to call me for years." he begins. "Regardless, I am glad to hear from you." he adds. He looks past her. "Just where *are* you?" "From my perspective, it's been years," I said, not without a derisive twist of my mouth, "but that's not important. What is the significance of a broken Pattern?" Luke grimaces slightly at Dagny's brusque manner, but he quickly recovers from it. "Ah, you've discovered one of those, have you?" he says...and then Luke trails off slightly as he continues to focus primarily not on Dagny, but on the Broken Pattern behind her. "The origin and nature of Broken Patterns are a matter of debate." Luke says. "That one, though." he makes a shake of the head. "doesn't look familiar or seem to follow the usual sequence." He now focuses on his daughter again, speculatively. "So, again." Luke insists. "Where are you? Are you in danger?" Fine. "A Shadow of 1930s France," I replied. "Specifically, a version of Versailles. And no, I'm not in any immediate danger, unless one of the locals happens to be The Amazing Kreskin." "Still, there was a bit of drama going on in Paris, somebody's apparently decided they want to blow up all the little Shadow denziens," I added, carelessly. "Didn't involve me though, so I walked out and ended up here. And found this." I indicated the Broken Pattern. "What do we normally do with these things?" "We" Luke repeats Dagny's word with a smile on his face. "Considering how you wanted to go off for a while, I didn't think there was much more than an I in there at the moment." "As far as immediate danger, you would be surprised, Dagny, just what is waiting out to bite you." "Do me a favor." Luke says. "I'm still convalescing from being a hero for your uncle, so I am not going to come through. Walk around the outside of that thing, but give it some space. I want to see its overall shape." he instructs. I frowned, and my brow furrowed. "I meant 'we' in the collective sense. You know...Amberites. People who would give a shit this is here." I did not appreciate the dig about me leaving. Was his relationship with /his/ own father so wonderful that he could not understand, or appreciate, what a bastard I thought him for leaving my mother? It struck me then that his father would be my grandfather. I wondered if he was still alive, and if so, where he was. "I wonder," I said slowly, "how you would feel if, after over twenty years, a father you never knew just popped up out of nowhere and said, 'Hello! I'm not only still alive, but living in a palace, while the mom who worked her ass off raising you died, and oh, by the way,'" I chuckled humorlessly, "'you're practically immortal, you can do magic, and you have a gazillion uncles and aunts and cousins you didn't know about.' So that basically, the life I've led till then was pretty much meaningless." I was surprised at my own candor. Though there was some venom behind my words, they reflected my feelings fairly honestly. I was also pretty ticked off at him giving me orders to march around the Broken Pattern without so much as a /please/. True, I did call and ask for help, but he was hardly my first choice, and that didn't mean that I didn't require some form of respect. However, being curious, I grudgingly obliged, and walked around the perimeter. "You're cross with me." Luke says as a matter of fact, as Dagny walks around the perimeter. /What tipped you off?/ I thought to myself. "The thing you have to recognize about Trumps, especially when dealing with an Artist, is that you open yourself up with them." Luke says. "I can't exactly read your mind without you knowing it, but emotions, surface thoughts and impressions are hard to actively *block*." Oh. Ahhh. Hm. Still, I had a question. "Shouldn't that go both ways?" "Its easier if you are an Artist, else it takes some practice." Luke says. "Most of the people you will have more of that practice than you do." "Word to the wise in future calls, Dagny." Luke sums up. "Especially if they don't involve me." "Or perhaps, if they do," I replied with a wry smile. By the time Luke says the latter, Dagny has completed a circuit. "That will do nicely." Luke pauses and sighs. "Thank you." he adds. "You're welcome," I replied. "You know, you've just show me something that I didn't think exist, or could exist." he says after a few moments. "That's not a broken copy of Amber's Pattern. Its a copy of a Pattern that shouldn't have broken copies at all." "It's a broken copy of Corwin's." I frowned. "Which one was he again?" I asked. "And why does he have a Pattern? For that matter, what makes them break?" "That goes back to family history." Luke says.... "Since he created it whole and proper." Luke finishes. "It shouldn't have any broken Patterns associated with it at all. Unless..." He pauses and regards Dagny, as if he were a professor expecting a student to provide an answer. "Unless somebody figured out how to damage this one," I finished. "How did the first one get damaged? Why did your father do that? Could he be doing the same with this one?" "Dad was trying to take over the universe." Luke says, in a completely matter of fact tone. "He was trying to weaken the Pattern so that his Chaosian allies could help him, Fiona and Brand conquer Amber. After that failed, his goal was to destroy Amber's Pattern and leave room to create his own." "Why would Grandpa do that?" I wondered. I honestly wondered at his motivation. Megalomaniac, nutter, or revolutionary? "Power." Luke says flatly. "A vision of a universe shaped to his specifications." "As far as him doing it with this one." Luke looks at Dagny. "I am given to understand that he is under lock and key after whatever he was doing at the Fount. Which I haven't had a chance to investigate, although." he looks at Dagny. "the Fount would be a logical place to start looking, besides Corwin's Pattern itself, for clues." "But wait...there are two Patterns now, the regular one and Corwin's." I stopped then. If all Shadow was based on the Pattern, and there were two Patterns now...the metaphysics were staggering. "What would a broken pattern of Corwin's mean? And how would someone get to his Pattern? How does a Pattern get damaged, anyway?" Luke blinks his eyes. "Those are all good questions, but I think we should decide what we are going to do with this call before I answer more of them. Your sorcery may not last forever, and holding this call this long over this distance has been a strain on me." "Will you come through to here, in Kashfa, Dagny? After some rest, for the both of us, we can discuss the matter, and if deemed prudent, take action." I considered his offer. If it meant answers to my questions, that was great, but I was unsure if I was ready--or willing--to return to Luke's territory. "How would I get back here?" I smiled a little. "If nothing else, my car is here." "If we, or even just you, need to return to that shadow." Luke says confidently. "I am sure, given the view you've given me of that garden, that a Sketch could be whipped up without too much difficulty." Luke doesn't quite roll his eyes. "And if we didn't, you could always get another car, or if it is Yours." that word is definitely capitalized. "you can always find it again in shadow." "I like my car," I muttered under my breath, as I reached out for Luke's hand... Luke takes Dagny's hand and pulls her away from the broken copy of Corwin's Patterna, and into a sitting room of some sort. Luke was standing in its corner. He lets go of Dagny's hand and lets her get a sense of where he has pulled her through. There are wall hangings, hung on poles on all four walls, with designs that range from the geometric to the fanciful. There is a low table, made of some rich dark wood, and a few low chairs. "Inspired somewhat by our holdings in Risterion." Luke explains as he gives Dagny a moment or two to look around. "Its a relatively comfortable room to rest in, when I get tired of my suite, or I need to take a walk from them." "There's coffee, or tea, available." Luke says. "Or just about anything else you can get in this region of the universe." "I'm fine, thanks," I replied. The coffee at Versailles had indeed been good. It was also somewhat of a relief knowing that Luke could no longer hear my thoughts. /Boogety boogety boo, you smarmy redheaded asswipe! Ha ha! / He had mentioned earlier that he had been injured helping one of my uncles. Did I want to show interest? Only polite, I guess. And he didn't look well. "So, what happened to you?" "William happened to me." Luke says, gesturing to one of the low chairs for Dagny. "I didn't get to tell you that story, since you didn't have any context for it, but I paid a price for being a hero to the place that doesn't even like me." He looks at Dagny. "Perhaps somewhat mad from having stolen a powerful magical artifact from his mother, I got in the way of Triton, that's Corwin's Rebman's son, sword. "Oh." That's right, he had been ill the last (first) time I had seen him. I had been too angry--rightly so, I felt--to give a damn about Luke's state of health. Not even that I cared so much right now, really, but I had questions I needed answered. Still, it had been a long time. I would never be his biggest fan, and I certainly had not forgiven him, but I expected I could at least act civilly towards him. Plus, this chair was really comfortable, and it was hard to be rude towards someone with such lovely taste in furniture. "It was and is a pretty serious injury, and if I didn't think this little kingdom would fall apart, I would go convalesce in shadow a few years." I smiled a little. What was it they said about indispensable men? "The pain and injury comes and goes, I think that blade of his must have had some ensorcellment on it." "Well, it's a shame that it happened," I mused. "And nobody's been able to figure out how to fix it?" "I have a distinct lack of allies, something I'm trying to fix." Luke smiles ruefully. "Not being the most popular person to the nine hundred pound gorilla next door is not an easy thing, Dagny." Luke says. "I have asked Malachi to look into the matter. I frankly don't trust Kyle to do anything that doesn't benefit or aggrandize himself." Names, names names. Luke had to know that I would know nothing of these people. I nodded along, confident that eventually I'd put the pieces together. "As far as my popularity, at least I've made enough progress that I don't think that most of the family would want me dead or imprisoned on sight. And you don't seem to have suffered too badly for being my daughter...?" he looks at Dagny inquisitively. "Suffered for being your daughter? Depends on your point of view," I replied. "Growing up was one thing. As for the family..." I smiled wryly, thinking of my encounter with Lorius. "Not as of yet. Any popularity issues I have encountered amongst our relations, I can assure you, were entirely my own doing." "I don't blame you for downplaying your lineage." Luke says. I played with the arm of the chair, running my hand over the velvety texture. "To be honest, I haven't been exactly advertising the fact that we're related. Where I've been, it really didn't matter." I looked at him. My father. "And I'm willing to bet there's no cut-out cardboard stork on your front lawn announcing 'It's a girl!' in big pink letters." I say this without rancor, which surprised me, actually. I hesitated before adding, "I found a Shadow of my mom. I don't blame you for leaving her. I did." I paused. "Did you really not know she was pregnant? Please be honest." Luke regards Dagny for fifteen, perhaps twenty seconds before finally speaking. The reluctance in his voice is subtle, but noticeable to Dagny. "We are not excessively fertile, Dagny." Luke says. "In centuries of there being an Amber Royal Family, we would number in the tens of thousands. Despite what some might say, we are not legion." Luke continues to levelly look at Dagny. "The idea that I would have made your mother pregnant simply never occurred to me. Had I known, I would have done things very differently." "Use protection, for instance," I interjected with a smirk. Honestly, that they didn't was just gross. Carol had only been a Shadow dweller and thus susceptible to whatever inclinations Luke had sent her way, but he really should have known better. Pregnancy aside, there are a whole lotta reasons precautions ought to be taken. Ew. Luke blinks his eyes as he regards Dagny. He finally sighs and then continues. "I hope that one day we can grow to an understanding about that, and our own relationship." Luke says. "To quote something someone said to a buddy of mine, I understand that it is not the function of an instant." "No, it's really not," I replied. "You may not even like me, even if you take the time and trouble to get to know me. And you seem like a busy guy. "Speaking of which," I continued, "you probably want to continue convalescing, and would like me out of your hair ASAP. To that end, what else can you tell me about this broken Pattern of Corwin's?" "I don't have enough data to tell you much more." Luke replies. "I can tell you about Broken Patterns in general, and perhaps, since you are my daughter, I can tell you more about Corwin's Pattern in general. Not that I expect you would be able to walk it, even if a ghost of mine can and did. Tell me what you want exactly to know." Luke rises and heads over to a carafe and pours himself a cup of coffee and sips it as he returns toward his chair. Before he sits, he gestures toward it with a free hand, as if expecting Dagny might change her mind. Fine. I poured myself a cup from the carafe, mixing sugar and milk as I did so, and took a cookie from the adjacent tray. Admiring Luke's taste in china, I resumed my seat. "I'm certainly not looking to walk it," I said. "Once was definitely enough." "Good. A broken Pattern can inadvertently kill you. There is an element of unpredictable chaos to it, by its nature." Luke says. I took a sip. Good coffee. "My questions basically pertained to the nature of the universe, that's all." I smiled a little. "If all Shadow is based on the Pattern, and there are two Patterns..." I trailed off. "What does the broken Pattern of Corwin's mean? How would someone get to his original Pattern? Are there three of them, like of our Pattern? And how does a Pattern get damaged?" "I suppose that we need to clear things up from the top on your cosmoligy." Luke says with a smile. "Even before we discuss what the broken Pattern means." "I think that our redheaded relatives would agree that Shadow is not based solely off of the Pattern." Luke takes a sip. "What does being redheaded have to do with it?" I wondered aloud. Certainly and obviously, Luke's hair was red, but I failed to see what that might have to do with understanding the nature of the universe. And if that was so, I was in big trouble. "Certain branches of the family are known for certain proclivities." Luke explains patiently. "The descendants of Queen Clarissa, your great-grandmother by the way, colloquially known as the redheads, are the ones which are the primary explorers of arcane and esoteric knowledge in the Amber Family." I twisted a brown lock of hair around my finger. Looked like I was shit out of luck there, unless the copper undertone counted for something. "So, generally speaking, we are pigeonholed based on our coloring? Somehow that doesn't seem quite right." "We are." Luke says. "The reputation of Dad, Fiona, Bleys and Grandmother Clarissa just seal the reputation. Your cousin Shannon has hair more blond than red, but since her mother is Fiona, she's a Redhead as much as you." "anyway..." Luke continues. "Merlin is much more on the theory, "Which one is he again?" And what were his parents /thinking/? "That would be Corwin and Dara's son." Luke explains. "The Emperor of all Chaos, thanks to his mother's, and half brother's machinations." "Basically, shadow exists between the poles of the Pattern and the Logrus in Chaos." I nodded. I didn't know what Chaos was, exactly, but the name was certainly descriptive. Context did not, however, help with whatever the hell a Logrus was. "When Corwin, Merlin's Dad, created a new Pattern, he changed this equation." Luke continues. "What he did was influence the region around his Pattern..." he looks at Dagny levelly, considering his next words. "and created brand new shadow, accessible only through the Primal Shadow of Corwin's Pattern." "I can draw a diagram." Luke grins. "if it would be easier." "That's not necessary, thanks," I replied, a little resentfully. I'm not really that stupid. "So we basically have another offshoot of reality, with its own Shadows. How did I get there? It doesn't seem as if I could just find it by accident while traveling, if it isn't connected to Amber-based Shadows, which is where I started from." I twisted the ring on my finger. It was the same one I had purchased from that New Age shop back home, all those years ago, the day I received that letter from Bill Roth. Funny, but I still wore it--a silver oval, decorated with blue stones, framing the figure of a unicorn rampant. WIth its connections to my old life and the new, I guess I hadn't wanted to give it up. It was pretty nice, though. "If I was able to wander in there, I wonder if others were too, and if so, what that means. Now, how is it that Patterns are damaged?" "I don't know. Getting into Corwin's realm is deuced difficult. In point of fact, as far as I am aware, you wouldn't have gotten in there without knowing it. You couldn't have. "However", Luke continues. "with strange things popping out, I suppose its possible that you found an accidental method of entering the offshoot." "What sort of strange things popping out?" I asked warily. "Chaosians running around, unusual stirrings in shadow, odd sorcerous workings, doings in Rebma." Luke answers. "We can discuss those in more depth if you are interested. You may have even run into one or more of them... Just as your bloodline allows you to walk a Pattern, so can that same blood damage the Pattern... "Who or what would have done something like this to Corwin's Pattern to create a broken Corwin Pattern is a very good question that I have no answer to, Dagny." Luke says. "Well, based on what you're saying, I suppose we can logically deduce that someone of Corwin's bloodline spilled blood on his Primal Pattern," I replied. "I'm guessing the best way to check that would be to go there. Were someone so inclined, they could probably find their way there from the Shadow I just left. "Possibly." Luke says. "Thing is, there aren't that many children of Corwin. Short list of suspects but none seem the type, unless someone acted *upon* them." He looks thoughtful and slightly distracted. As to strange occurrences," Dagny continued, "there WAS that crazy lady with the army, the giant, and the door to nowhere, trying to take over that same Shadow. Completely threw off my whole morning. I don't know what a Chaosian might look like, but if they have a particular dislike of magic-users, I think I found one, because she was calling them out." "Most Chaosians learn magic..." Luke says, still in his faraway look and then holds up a hand as his alertness returns. "Wait a moment. Door to nowhere." He looks suddenly alert. "Tell me about *that*." "I heard this explosion, and I went to check it out. There was this freestanding brass door in the middle of Paris, and an army of rifle-wielding, sword-wearing soldiers was pouring out of it and marching through the city. This one lady seemed to be in charge." I described her appearance and demeanor. "She ordered all of the spellcasters to stand down, or she would destroy the entire city. Then she called for something called a Talos, which seemed to be a giant of some kind. Oh, and she was speaking Thari." Luke's face pales slightly and he grimaces as Dagny describes the events that she witnessed. I finished the rest of my coffee and placed the cup and saucer on the end table next to my chair. "I didn't feel like getting embroiled in somebody else's fight, so I left and headed for Versailles, and that's where I found the broken Pattern." "Unfortunately, its not someone else's fight, if I'm right." Luke says. He sighs. "Recently, a number of those freestanding Doors have been popping up, mostly in Amber, although according to Merle, one in Chaos, too. Complete with soldiers pouring out, bent on conquest and destruction. All of their previous incursions to date have been dealt with, at least as far as my information sources tell me." "It's now clear they have decided to go for softer but useful targets." Luke says. He looks at Dagny. "If you are going to go back there, I'd rather you not go alone." "Who-hoa, wait," I held my hands up, as if asking Luke to slow down. "First of all, if it's such a pain in the ass to find your way into Corwin's Shadows, how did these people just pop in there? I'm still not sure how I got there by accident. Secondly, what's the use of taking over a Shadow? It's just a /Shadow/. It's not like you can't walk a few Shadows over and find pretty much the same thing somewhere else. Granted, there's a Broken Pattern in this one, but still." I stopped, and thought about Binocular Lady. "Has anyone found out where those people are from, and who they are, and why they give a crap about Shadows anyway? As for going back there, my car and gear are there, and I wouldn't mind retrieving them. With the condition you're in you certainly can't join me, and, in any event," I smiled, "I hardly need a babysitter at this late age." Luke waits for Dagny's questions to finish before he gives a nod. He pours himself another cup of tea. "Those are very good questions, Dagny, and I only have a hypothetical answer for one of them. The Broken Pattern, I think, is probably what lured them there. There is evidence their goals revolve around finding and capturing and neutralizing locales of powers...and while the logical targets are the Pattern and Logrus, I suppose their methods extend to things such as a Broken Pattern. Its a value target to them even if it is a Shadow." "Your cousins and relations would know more about these people and their realm. All I have to go on is, literally a Dream. I do know that Merle held a door open for a party of your cousins to go reconnoiter into their realm, but I have no idea what they found. I'm not exactly on the 'Christmas Card List', remember." "And as far as a babysitter." Luke shrugs. "I wasn't suggesting that I accompany you. However, you could use some backup, to get your gear, if nothing else." I shrugged, realized how I had just unconsciously mimicked Luke, and silently prayed other proclivities of his weren't genetic as well. "I'll probably just be in and out," I replied. "Get my gear and split." "If you say so." Luke says. "I'll take you at your word." Helluva time for Bhangbadea to go incommunicado. Wouldn't have minded her along. "Well, on my way to wherever I end up next, I'll keep an eye out for freestanding Doors, and deal with them if I have to." I paused. "Now, I think you mentioned being able to make a Sketch of the Garden so I could go back." I suddenly thought of something. "Um...you'd probably know the answer to this. That thing I can do to make me invisible to everybody, can I maintain that through Trump travel?" Luke looks at her quizzically for a second. "Ah, you mean the Neuromantic trick that you've learned?" Luke shakes his head. "No, you wouldn't be able to maintain that through a Trump. Its not only a matter of concentration, but the fact that, in this case, since you are trapezing across Shadows, the arcane rules are slightly different. You adjust that automatically whenever you start using it in a shadow--an advantage over ordinary sorcery, by the way. However, by crossing the boundary while holding it active, it will have to be reset." "If you, say, walked from here to Begma with that trick on, and you crossed the border, it would lose its potency as soon as you crossed it." Luke explains. "Be right back, going to get the supplies to make the sketch you want." Well, that was an interesting tidbit I hadn't known. Looking back, I don't think I had tried to transverse Shadow while invisible. It was going to be awkward heading back to Versailles if anybody happened to be looking into the Perilous Garden upon my reentrance. Not that I worried about anyone causing me trouble, of course, it would just be extremely tedious to explain and/or manipulate to my advantage. Well, maybe I'd be lucky and be able to slip right back into Mind Masque. "Is there anything else you'd like before you go?" Luke adds, once he reaches the threshold of the doorway. "I wouldn't mind using your bathroom," I replied. "Need to wash my hands." "It is fortunate that we have indoor plumbing here that will suit your standards." Luke says with a smile. "It wasn't always the case." "I remember, from last time," I replied, and exited. Luke has interesting taste in bathroom fixtures. When Dagny is finished...her return to the room is equally without incident. save for a guard with short, dark hair, armed with a curved sword. She gives a nod of the head to Dagny as they pass. "Good day, daughter of the King." she murmurs in a respectful, but slightly wary, tone of voice. I stopped and looked at her sharply. "Um, hi. Hello. How do you know who I am?" The guard smoothly comes to a halt as Dagny does, and turns at her question. "It's quite simple deduction, really." the guard explains. "You have a passing resemblance both to his Majesty, and his mother, who ruled here before him. So I have a grandmother, too, that I didn't know about. Well, had anyway. The fact that Luke was in charge now sort of intimated that she wasn't around anymore. Oh well. "Therefore you are of the blood of Amber, and the only person who King Rinaldo would treat with so casually en suite that resembles him would be Dagny Thorsonne, his daughter. You are she."..."I am Lisara of Clan Tepet, guardian of the rulers of Kashfa and their families by the ancient Treaty between Clan Tepet and the city of Jidrash." I nodded. "As you were. Was I incorrect, and Luke actually did post a giant pink stork in the front yard with my name, birthday, and weight?" I wondered aloud. "If so, I owe him an apology. If not, logical deductions aside, I'd like to know how my name came to be bandied about." Lisara gives Dagny a quizzical look as Dagny responds with her uttered wonderings. She gives a bow of the head as Dagny asks her question about knowing her name. "The fact that he has a daughter is known to some here in the Palace." Lisara says. With a rueful smile, she cocks her head. "I am not certain that I should tell you how I know your name. On the other hand, an exchange might be arranged." "I will tell you, in exchange for allowing me to accompany you." I burst out laughing. "Accompany me? What makes you think I'm going anywhere? And if I were, how'd you know it'd be somewhere you'd be remotely interested in?" I waved her off with an amused smile. Little Shadow people. "I appreciate your offer to, erm, exchange information, but thanks anyway." I headed back to the sitting room, and Luke... Lisara has no verbal response to this, and simply stands in place, a smile playing on her lips. I frowned, and continued on. "Oh good, you finally returned. You decided to give me time to finish this alone, huh?" Luke says. "It's nearly done by any road." I craned my neck to study his work. His style was very distinctive, and somehow familiar, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. "I can't draw," I said. "I can appreciate art, but I can't seem to produce it myself." I stopped, and thought of the bright flash of edged steel in the sun, the satisfying thump of a body landing squarely on a practice mat, a hundred-yard shooting pattern less than six inches across. "Not that kind, anyway. "Incidentally, not that I should be a state secret or anything, but that guard out there seemed to know an awful lot about me. Actually, she knew more about me than I do. I didn't know I had a grandmother, too, and she was in charge here before you. Anyway, that Lisara chick asked to come with me in exchange for telling me how she knew who I was." I shrugged. "It's cute when Shadow people try to bargain, but that shit don't fly with me." Luke puts down his pen, turns and looks up at Dagny. "That's a lot to process and answer all at once." "Of course you have a grandmother. I didn't spring up out of the earth out of a dragon's tooth planted by Dad, after all. Mom...Jasra was a maid-companion to Dara once upon a time, and came to Kashfa. She became a consort to the King at the time, and engineered a coup. She was never in charge in public. However, after she met Brand and bore me, she did put me in charge, which I was for a while. There was a long period, after I left, which I wasn't. Now, though, I am the legally crowned King." "As far as 'Shadow People'." He looks at Dagny. "I find it interesting that during your time of coming to terms with yourself, you have come to the conclusion that Shadow dwellers don't matter." I nodded. "Okay. Good to know." "I don' t know if 'don't matter' is the right way to put it," I replied. "They're not really people, right? If one of them dies or something, I just walk a few Shadows away and find them living their lives exactly the same way. They believe that their Shadow is the whole of existence, but truthfully, those Shadows wouldn't be here if it weren't for us. And the best of them can't compete with any one of us." Luke shakes his head and gestures for Dagny to take a seat. "It's true that those of the blood of Amber, or the denizens of the Courts of Chaos, have a large influence on shadows, shadow people and the universe in general. It's like that Carl Sagan bit with the rubber sheet and the heavy balls. Our very existence distorts and changes the universe around us." "That does not mean, though, that everything else is negligible or that they can be disregarded. "As far as their ability to compete with us, you should ask your Uncle Random about the time he played against Johnny Chan at the World Series of Poker." Luke says. "So far, I haven't run into any problems," I said. Luke gives a nod. "So far." He looks at Dagny levelly and he grows more serious. "If you were to kill someone in Shadow, and you wandered a world or two away, sure, you would find someone almost exactly like the person you killed. It would not be the same person, though, and the people that person left behind would not be consoled to know that copies, however close, of their loved ones existed a world or two away." "Hey, wait a second, why am I killing someone in Shadow all of a sudden?" I said with a smile. "But seriously, those 'loved ones' are Shadow dwellers too, so it's all relative, isn't it? For all we know, they don't even exist until we decide they do, when we travel to their Shadow." "Now you are getting epistemological on me." Luke says, in a tone of protest. "I think the Courts of Chaos have the right of it, and view the denizens of creation as a spectrum of ability and reality. Sure, they put themselves on top of that spectrum, of course." Luke admits. "However, its not the cliffs of insanity that Amberites seem to place themselves upon, standing above all others who are relegated to the bottom. You, dear daughter, seem to have picked up that habit." Luke adds. Since when was I dear? I thought angrily. What I said was, "I don't think I've been around any family long enough to pick up any 'habits', so maybe it's just the natural order of things. I'm stronger and quicker than any Shadow dweller I've ever met, and I've always known that I was smarter than the plebeians I grew up with." Luke regards Dagny calmly as she speaks. My voice grew hard. "Being different and not knowing why or how to act like everyone else is no picnic, Luke, but I managed it and survived, only to learn that with the application of a little effort, everyone and everything else conforms to me, instead of the other way around. For the price of a tank of gas or a little bit of shoe leather, I can find just about anything I could possibly want; a few minutes concentration, I can create anything I can imagine. So I'm not 'relegating' anybody to the bottom; that's just where they are in comparison." Luke gives a nod of understand but does not give a verbal answer. "In the meantime, I better head back. I'll be in touch." I held out my hand for the Trump. "Good luck." Luke says, not arguing with Dagny's response. He hands Dagny the sketch. It depicts the hedged area around the Broken Pattern, the design toward the rear of the view as depicted in the drawing. "And do keep in touch." he adds. "More often than sorting out problems such as this Broken Pattern." "Thanks, " I replied. "See you around." I studied the Trump sketch, concentrated, and... The sketch works without fault, and Dagny quickly finds herself stepping through the trump connection, and back into that hedge-bound area where the broken copy of Corwin's Pattern lies. A guard turns, perhaps seeing Dagny out of the corner of his eye. By the time he turns completely, however, she engages her mental spell, and the guard shrugs, and turns to the other guard. "That thing always plays tricks on my eye." he comments. "Seeing things there that aren't really there." Tricks indeed! I made my way around the Broken Pattern and walked out of the Perilous Garden. I decided against continuing my tour of the grounds, and, assuming I am not detained in some way, instead headed to my car. I sat behind the wheel and tapped the intro to YYZ on my steering wheel. Where to now? I had a universe of possibilities. I know! I put the car in gear, pulled out of my parking spot, headed back for the main road, and started to Shadow Shift. Corwin's Primal Pattern, here I come! It takes a bit for Dagny to get the hang of this. Shifting toward desires is fairly easy and something she has had practice upon. Shifting toward something like a Pattern is a new skill and a new challenge for her. Finally, she hits upon the knack of shifting toward a better version of the broken Pattern that she has seen. Onto the roads Dagny drives, out of Paris, away from the army, and away from the Broken Pattern itself. The drive is long, and for a while it doesn't look like Dagny is making any progress. Persistence pays off, however, as the sky starts to turn dark, the roads turn from paved to unpaved, and Dagny gets the feeling she is close. Finally, she is driving her car down a dirt road, a French Manor House in the distance, coming ever closer. Her shadow shifting has stopped, either the Pattern is close, or her abilities have left her. She is not alone in this shadow, though. Near the house, a trio of figures, small at this distance, stand. It will, driving at best speed over these roads, a couple of minutes before she arrives in their vicinity. You'd think Shifting towards a Pattern would be easier than otherwise; I always pictured the Pattern like a huge gravity well, pulling Shadowwalkers closer to it. I don't know why I thought that. Goodness knows who or what those three figures up ahead represented. I slowed the car* down, reached back and pulled Mjolnir from the back seat, resting him (vertically) on the floor, scabbard in easy reach. I kept an eye out for mischief, and kept driving... As Dagny approaches the trio of figures, and slows down, she can take stock of her vehicle. The changes have been slow and gradual to the car, and frankly, Dagny has had other things to study. Now, as the trio of figures regard her, she can see that her car has changed. Although not quite suited for this dirt road, Dagny is in a sporty convertible car that looks like its from the 1930's, the kind of car that raced in Grand Prix's at the time. In point of fact, the car is very much like an Alfa Romeo Monoposto 8c, except that the tires are a little more suited for unpaved roads. The large French style manor house, and perhaps more importantly, the redheaded woman, the tall dark haired man, and the somewhat shorter blond man come closer and closer. Dagny doesn't recognize any of them off of the bat. "My subconscious has excellent taste in cars," I murmured to myself as I turned down the volume on the CD player. The car had also changed from pale gold to a beautiful shade of azure. I slowed down a bit more, and took stock of the three figures. How are they dressed? Were they armed? What did it look like they were doing? Also, was the Manor House an inn? I could use some time away from the wheel. The trio are dressed, frankly, in medieval clothing, with clothes that look more in place in Amber than in early 20th century France. None of them appear overtly armed, although all three, to Dagny, look like they could handle themselves in a fight, especially the dark haired one. They seem, to Dagny, to be conversing and looking at her. At one point, the red haired woman pulls out what looks like a trump, looks at it, and then at the approaching Dagny and her car. As far as the House, it does not appear to be an Inn, it appears to be an estate house of some sort. There is a large hedged off area beyond the three individuals, and the House. The House, too, seems a little dilapidated, and the sky is now angry looking. It may soon rain. Backlinks |
