WitchesWizardsAndWolves[Continued from Worlds at Her Fingertips] When they reached the top of the cramped tower, they could hear voices on the other side of the wooden door. Free from most vestiges of subtlety, Malachi knocked loudly at the door. "It's Malachi, Miss Gillian," he said. "With company." From within, Ginger shrieked in terror. “Son of a bitch!” Seabhac chuckled, “Uh. Well done. At least they know we’re here now. Along with half the campus.” Rook frowned faintly, “I smell true Chaos. And it isn’t you, nephew.” Seabhac sighed, and busied himself with cleaning his spectacles. In a tired voice, he muttered, “Gillian. Please tell me you haven’t destroyed a Shadow or summoned some daemon. Again.” Gillian opened the door a crack, showing a brown eye behind wire-framed glasses. "Malachi, your timing...wait, you said 'and company'?" Her eye grew wide when she saw the first part of Malachi's company, a man she assumed was Prince Rook, and even wider when she saw the second part of Malachi's company, Seabhac with part of his face missing and sporting...wings? She threw open the door and pushed past Malachi--propriety, Prince Rook, and the Baroness completely forgotten--and took Seabhac's face between her hands. "Great Unicorn, what happened?" Seabhac gave a gruesome smile, “Hey you.” He said. He put his arms around her waist, hugging Gillian tightly. “I was running a favor for Malachi on the other side of Creation. Forgot how much they loved me over there.” He chuckled, but his eyes shone with pain. “Don’t worry about me. It’s worse than it looks.” She looked at him quizzically. "Did you mean to say it looks worse than it is? 'Cause if so, maybe you have a concussion..." Seabhac sighed and kissed her nose, “Next time we go into Shadow, we’re finding you a sense of humor.” Gillian gave him a mildly dirty look and then smiled. "I'm just glad you're all right," she whispered. Rook moved forward, growling faintly. “This is your witch, Malachi?” His golden eyes turned toward the Baroness. “Or is it that one?” The woman in purple stepped closer, raising an elegant brow as she noticed Seabhac. “Prince-Regent. What an unexpected pleasure.” Seabhac stiffened; his throat suddenly dry. “Solataire?! I thought. . . uh. . . you look. . . well.” Solataire purred, “Curiouser and curisourer. Oh, I am ever-so glad I took your Call, Gillian.” Her purple gaze found Malachi and she grinned. Gillian glanced from Seabhac to Solataire and back again. She raised an eyebrow at Seabhac. Malachi really had no idea that Gillian knew that kind of language. His face scarlet, he assumed a stoic look and nodded. "Miss Gillian is...is the one we came to speak with, Your Grace. I do not know the lady." He nodded politely (and a tad warily) towards Solataire. "So, I take it you two know each other," he said to Gillian and Seabhac, mastering the obvious. Gillian wasn't sure how much Seabhac wanted to make public, so she deferred to him to answer Malachi. Seabhac nuzzled her hair with a nod, “Yeah, I’m pretty much twitterpatted.” "Um...perhaps we can retire downstairs to one of the library study rooms?" Gillian suggested as she rubbed the back of her neck. "It'll have more places to sit than my bedroom. And the topic that brought the three men here is related to what I wished to discuss with you, Baroness." Ginger called from under the bed, "Yeah. Good plan. Take it outside will you? Gah." Rook snorted, also put off by the signs of affection. “Indeed.” He maintained a comfortable distance from Solataire as she drifted forward. The woman gave Malachi a feline smile, “I would never turn down the opportunity to see Amber’s greatest library. And all this mystery. mrmmm. So delicious.” Her violet eyes – shimmering with shadows – met his, her hand extending toward him. “If you would be so kind as to escort me, sir,” she said. “I think I shall be safer in your care than the Wolf’s.” Conditioned to politeness, Malachi immediately took Solataire's hand and looped it around his arm in a chivalrous if inelegant gesture. Whether he ignored the woman's predatory demeanor or was merely oblivious to it was hard to say, though his ears tinged slightly with red. "The pleasure is all mine, ma'am," he said. "I'm sure you'd be safe with His Grace, but I will try not to disappoint." Solataire beamed brightly, “Oh, you are adorable. So gentlemanly. And yet, I somehow doubt your confidence in the Wolf. Not that I blame you, or him. Old habits die hard, yes?” Seabhac coughed, “Gillian? How about you lead the way, yes?” He leaned close enough for her to hear, "I'll... uh... explain later. And I hope you have a brilliant one too." She smiled back weakly. Gillian led them down the stairs and into the top floor of the library. She skirted the main aisles, taking the paths that led between the stacks, and stopped in front of the door to a presently unoccupied study room. She whispered the spell that would light the lanterns, bathing the windowless room in a buttery glow. An oak table filled most of the room, flanked on either side by two long, padded benches. An empty food wrapper lay crumpled on the table. Gillian grabbed the wrapper and stuck it behind her back. She smiled and gestured with her other hand. "Please, everyone have a seat." Malachi was beginning to feel comfortable with the luxuries of the University, even if his fellows did not regard them as such. Padded benches and private conference rooms were things he still identified with the Lady, the duchess of Karm. Still, with an evidently important and obviously beautiful woman on his arm, he strove to act as though he were completely at home in the room. He sat Solataire and then himself, turning to face Gillian at the head of the table. Inwardly, Malachi was most concerned about Solataire's presence. Rook had warned him of dire consequences if certain parties were to learn of his and his compatriot's true nature. Yet now they were to discuss that very detail in front of a woman he did not know. He waited to see if anyone would explain. Rook settled across the table, well within claw-reach of Solataire’s throat. His golden eyes drifted from face to face, but always returned to her. If the Baroness noticed, she hardly cared, appearing almost delighted by the attention. “Tea!” she suddenly said. “Or dear, oh dear. We cannot discuss magick without tea.” She waved her hand and the air at the center of the table darkened into a churning, coiling mass of shadows. A hint of brimstone filled the air, tickling the nose and eyes. Then, with a whoosh, the cloud dissipated, leaving behind a tea setting for six people – almost identical to the one in Gillian’s room. Seabhac smiled faintly and began pouring cups for everything, serving the women first. Rook made it clear he did NOT want tea with a low growl. “Nephew. Malachi. I’ve traveled from Wolf’s Eye to hear what your witch has to say. I assume I did not make this journey for tea?” "Yes, sir," said Malachi, looking to Gillian. "Miss, you know why we are here. Before we begin, may we know why the lady Solataire is present for this discussion?" Gillian shut the door to the study room and turned to address Malachi. "The Baroness is here because Seabhac's guardian--Lord Mandor--gave me her trump and suggested I contact her. You see, Baroness Solataire is Suhuy's great-granddaughter." Solataire tilted her head at the name, “Indeed, I am. How playful of Mandor to let that tidbit known to perfect strangers. I will have to return the kindness soon.” Rook’s wariness transformed into barely restrained hostility now; golden eyes flaring at the announcement. The Chaosian Baroness ignored him and took her tea in hand. Seabhac sighed deeply and finished filling everyone’s cups. “Milk? Sugar? Strychnine?” Malachi looked around to see if this made sense to anyone else. He had never heard of any of those people, though he comprehended they must be important people in Chaos. "Yes, but the subject..." Solataire sipped her tea, “If it puts your mind at ease, Pa-Pa attempted to murder me not longer after I reached my Moon-Blood age. Our relationship has been somewhat shaky ever since.” She clucked her tongue, “Oh, there is nothing quite like sharing a cup of tea with new friends, don’t you think?” Gillian walked over from the doorway to stand by Seabhac's shoulder, drawing comfort from his presence. "Baroness, your...past history with him is why Mandor thought you would be willing to help us find him. Malachi, I believe your Man of Worms is the same person. And to all, I believe he is the agent responsible for the Dark Hour. We must find him, and we must stop him, or Amber will be destroyed." Solataire sipped her tea with a frown, “Well, we can’t have that, now can we? My favorite bookstore is here, after all. I’d be ever so put out.” Rook glowered at her, “And as for the deaths of hundreds of thousands in Amber?” Solataire shrugged, “Well yes. That would be bad too.” Seabhac hid his snickers behind his tea cup. Malachi though they were here to discuss being alive or dead, so this turn of conversation took him some time to absorb. "The same as whom?" he asked, feeling he'd missed something. "Who is 'him'?" Gillian looked at him. "The Avatar of the Logrus. Dworkin's brother and counterpart." "Even I got that," Malachi said with a slight smile. "You said he was the same person. Same as whom?" "I said I thought he was the same person as the Man of Worms, the one you said was the chief of those who killed you." Solataire coughed lightly, “Well. The first part of your statement is not entirely correct, my dear. Pa-Pa lost that title at the end of the PatternFall War. Or rather, it was taken from him. The Logrus can be a capricious entity.” She smiled softly, a hint of smugness curling her purple lips. Seabhac set his cup down, “The Baroness is being humble. She is the Logrus’ current Proxy.” Gillian's eyebrows threatened to disappear into hairline. "Well. That explains some things." “Hence, the falling out between myself and Pa-Pa,” she added. “Well, that, and its refusal to heal him after the War. Primal Cancer. Very nasty.” She sat up in her chair, glancing between her companions. "Now, what exactly am I missing in this conversation?" Malachi frowned, deep in concentration. "Your father is the Man of Worms? It is I who am missing something, Baronness. What is your father's name?" "Great-grandfather," Gillian corrected. "His name is Suhuy." Gillian sighed and slid onto the bench next to Seabhac. He instinctively took her hand, squeezing it reassuringly. Solataire smiled at Gillian with a sisterly empathy, “Great-grand father, yes. I am not that old, after all.” She checked her hair to make sure it remained immaculately wild. Satisfied she still looked young and beautiful, she leaned forward. “Still not quite certain what we are talking about, yet.” "I'm sorry, Baroness. I was expecting to talk to Prince Rook and Malachi tonight, but I wasn't sure if and when they would arrive, so I contacted you because I was curious, and then Malachi knocked on my door, and thus instead of two separate meetings we're all in one, but I wanted to talk about different things with each party, and instead we're consolidating, but the information is being presented out-of-order, and now everyone's confused, and it's all my fault. "Can we...can we start over?" “But, of course, Gillian,” Solataire chimed. “As Seabhac will attest, we have not been attacked by assassins, had a dramatic gravity or atmospheric change, or suffered the destruction of our undergarments by a lava burst. By Chaosian standards, this has been a very successful and orderly meeting thus far.” Seabhac laughed deeply, “The Lillium Incident.” She matched his laugh, blushing brightly. “Serpent preserve us, don’t remind me!” Rook growled with increased annoyance, his ears twitching. "Destruction of undergarments?" Gillian looked at Seabhac quizzically, then shook her head and spread her hands, forcing herself to focus back on the matter-at-hand and not scurry off onto tangets. Again. "Um...egads...where to start. The basics, I think, " she continued. "Baroness, it has come to the attention of certain people in Amber that there is an alternate world that exists between midnight and one minute after midnight. A handful of people in Amber experience this world directly. It lasts an hour for them, and they call it the Dark Hour. During this time Amber is...transformed...hideously. The general populace slumber on in obsidian coffins, unaware. To them, time flows seamlessly. "Monsters live in this alternate place. Upon questioning one, it appears that they don't realize their world overlaps with Amber for one hour every night. Damage that occurs at that time, both geographically and bodily, also manifests itself in the real world. The two are tied inexplicably. "It is believed that one year from now, Amber will be destroyed due to this Dark Hour. I'm not sure as to the details. I suspect the alternate world will completely subsume the real one. "It is also believed that your great-grandfather is behind it. We must stop him before Amber is destroyed, and we were hoping you could--and would--help us in this regard." Solataire listened quietly through Gillian’s admission, her violet eyes attentive and impartial. At no point did she display doubt or disrespect. At the end, she sat straight up in her chair, appearing far more regal than her diminutive height would normally portray. “But of course. Balance must be maintained and Amber be allowed to endure. The Serpent and Unicorn cannot exist without the other, lest Creation slip back into Achlys. “However, while I agree that Suhuy would rejoice at Amber’s destruction, I doubt he could be responsible for creating a rift like you’ve described. Not this close to the Primal Pattern. And not in his weakened condition.” She glanced over at Seabhac, “You have seen this rift?” Seabhac nodded, “Yes. And whatever it is. . . while I’m there, I can hardly use Low Magick without straining myself. And yet, the people like Gillian and Malachi become more powerful.” Rook nodded, “It is because we are dead.” Malachi stared open-mouthed at Rook for a second, trying to understand why the secret that would make him a subject for vivisection in Amber should be so casually released to a representative of a foreign, if not actually hostile, power. Recovering himself more slowly than he might like, he sat stoically and listened to what ensued. Gillian cringed involuntarily at Rook's proclamation and glanced at Seabhac. Seabhac flinched, as if touched with a hot poker. His mouth started to work, but no sound emerged. Solataire chuckled warmly, “Oh don’t look so surprised. Your wolf believes he can simply kill me before I leave the room with whatever trinkets this discussion provides me.” The smile remained, but her eyes darkened. “He would be wrong in that assumption, but it is rather boldly played. I find such audacious quaint.” Rook snorted, flexing his razored-fingers. Seabhac leaned forward to speak, but Solataire dismissed him with a wave of her hand. Gillian blinked--that was her future emperor she just overrode, after all. “Besides,” she continued. “I already knew. Or, at least, I can understand why you would come to that conclusion. I assume from your faces this has been a subject of contention?" "Yes," said Malachi diplomatically. "And if you know something more, sharing it now would be appreciated. By all of us." "Yes," Gillian echoed, not looking at Seabhac for the moment. Solataire nodded lightly, “In layman’s terms, Death is a transition from Creation into the Wake. Most of the time, the transition effectively destroys the departed; their personalities and memories erased as their immortal soul returns to the Primal Sea to await its rebirth. But some souls remain trapped in the Wake, albeit damaged or incomplete. In either case, the transition leaves a mark upon the deceased. You three bear that mark. The caul. “More intriguingly, however, is that all bear some form of soul-binding, as well. Work far beyond the ability of most Death Conjurers, I might add. A typical binding would place another soul from the Wake into the dead body. Not unlike creating a homunculus or nepharite. But this? No. Far more advanced. It is as if two souls occupy the same space. Allow me to demonstrate.” She took Gillian’s arm and turned it over. Her fingertips drifted over the woman’s flesh, almost sensual in the caress. Warmth spread through Gillian’s limb, and it began to glow. Threads of silver, gold, and bronze radiated beneath her suddenly translucent skin - a patchwork of arcane energies. “If I hazarded a guess, you now serve as anchors for another entity. And your deaths made you the perfect vessels for this process.” Her smile bloomed, her eyes twinkling with barely-contained secrets. "So," said Malachi, grasping firmly onto the obvious, "We are dead. That's what Prince Rook said." "And so will everyone else if we don't figure out who is behind the Dark Hour and stop them," Gillian added, trying to steer the conversation away from where Solataire was taking it. She felt protective of Dworkin and the dead elders, somehow, and didn't want to discuss them with the Baroness. "Baroness, you said you did not think your great-grandfather was responsible for this. Do you have any idea of who could be, then?" She wrinkled her nose, “Your companion asked me a question and I shall answer it first. Fair’s fair.” Seabhac and Rook leaned forward, eager for Malachi’s answer. Solataire shook her head, “Dead now? No. Obviously not, or I would be harvesting you three for spell components. Never let a good corpse go to waste, I always say.” She chuckled warmly, hugging her tea cup. “But you were dead, yes. Long enough to transition over before someone brought you back and popped another soul inside your skin. Clever really, as it would also provide you with some protection against the Wake and the things dwelling there.” She turned her violet eyes on Gillian now, “I would require more data, but I suspect it would be someone with a strong affinity to the Pattern. This Dark Hour you speak of sounds like a breach into Undershadow. And that, I fear would require manipulation of or damage to the Primal Pattern.” Gillian opened her mouth to reply, but Seabhac spoke first. Seabhac gulped deeply, “Tear. . . since when did you learn so much about the Pattern?” She shrugged, refilling her cup. “I am the Serpent’s Daughter, Seabhac. And one must know one’s enemy.” The table leapt as Rook sprang for her, claws out. He’d hardly stood before his entire body stiffened, his eyes rolled back in his head, and turned jet black. “Down doggy,” Solataire whispered in a glacial tone. A sick crunching noise filled the room as his body regressed and shifted into wolf form, then slumped to the floor to lay still. His furry chest rose and fell; unconscious, but alive. “I do so hate my tea being disrupted,” the Baroness muttered, using a napkin to clean up the spill. “You need to leash your pets better.” Malachi is up in a second, standing between Solataire and Rook. He doesn't touch his weapon, however. He is brave, but not stupid. "Leave. Now," he snapped, his own hackles up, literally and figuratively. "You have just committed an act of war on Amberite soil. You are royalty and so I will not touch you. But you leave now." It's too bad, he thought. He almost had begun to like her. To like getting answers. But she had attacked his chief, the man set over him by the King himself, and Malachi was ready to fight to the death. Solataire’s violet eyes settled upon him, but her expression was one of admiration, rather than animosity. She sipped her tea. Gillian leapt up and waved her hands in front of her in appeasement for all parties. "Um...technically, I don't think this would count as casus belli...um...perhaps more of just an international incident? Certainly a misunderstanding... "Malachi, please, the Baroness was acting in self-defense. Prince Rook responded unfavorably to the term 'enemy'-- which, I will hazard a guess, was used intentionally by the Baroness to provoke such a reaction..." Solataire chuckled, impressed. “Oh, I like this one, Hawk. Very perceptive girl.” Seabhac remained quiet, but flinched at the nickname. They locked eyes for a moment until the Baroness came out on top. She savored the victory with a grin. Gillian couldn't resist a sideways glance at Solataire and would never have been so bold in speech had Seabhac not been beside her. She bit her lip before continuing. The glance afforded Gillian an unnerving realization. Darkness oozed from beneath Solataire’s outfit, flooding the floor around her with churning shadows. They possessed gravity to them, attracting every ounce of gloom from the corners of the room. A nest of fiery-eyed eels gazed back from under her chair; needle-filled maws opening and closing rhythmically. <Unicorn's Hairy sack!> Cybele croaked. <I've never seen so many Logrus tendrils.> <You're here and taking notes? Good. 'Cause we need to talk about this Avatar of the Logrus later,> Gillian replied. She tore her eyes away from the darkness and addressed the room again. "The Baroness said it herself a moment ago: balance must be maintained and Amber be allowed to endure. It is the most favorable state of affairs for both Amber and Thelbane. Malachi, please...calm down. "Baroness, Rook is nephew to the king and has his ear in this matter. If I may be so bold, toying with him does not accomplish much to solving this matter, and it can be argued that it sets back our efforts considerably. Please...would you consider healing him? I think it would go far to setting things back in order so we can all move forward." Solataire gave a dismissive wave of her hand, “Oh, I know who he is. And what he is. The Weir are prone to rages, and your companion’s control was slipping. I simply defused what could have turned ugly by triggering his Weir hibernation cycle. Their involuntary self-preservation ability. I promise you, he is unharmed and resting comfortably. Let the dog rest while the adults talk.” "That," said Malachi angrily, "is a prince of the realm, and my chieftain. Do not speak of him in that manner!" “Malachi, please. I understand why she did what she did. And it would have been better than the alternative,” Seabhac said. He turned on the Baroness, frowning. “Not that I condone your actions, Tear.” Solataire’s eyes narrowed to dark slits, “Don’t press me, Hawk. You know perfectly well I should gut you right here and now.” Gillian stiffened beside Seabhac. “Later,” he replied. His eyes flashed between her and Gillian. “Please.” “Yes. Later,” Solataire sighed, resuming her aura of petite harmlessness. “Besides, we have a visitor at the door. One of your brethren by the looks of him.” Malachi was perfectly aware that he was in over his head. He bristled with controlled anger, but it was controlled. However much he loved his lupine neighbors, he was no wolf himself. He stayed between Solataire and Rook, poised to act, standing on the balls of his feet. "He will not agree," Malachi said of Rook. "His honor has been damaged. But if you have not harmed him, your fight is not with me." His gaze followed the small woman warily, every instinct urging him to fight or to drag Rook away. "I will listen." “A very wise choice,” Solataire smiled. “And if he wishes to come for me later, I am more than happy to oblige.” Seabhac gave Malachi an appreciative nod. “Thank you.” Gillian released her breath and allowed herself a small smile. One possibly catastrophic incident diverted. How many more to go? "Oh! You said we have a visitor?" She slipped off the bench and opened the door to the study room just a crack. "Is someone there?" she called out in a soft voice. "It's Temnal, Gillian," came a cautious answer from the other side of the door. From what he'd heard so far (and his hearing was quite keen), Temnal wasn't quite sure he should ask to come in. Nevertheless he was unavoidably curious about what was going on in there. "Are you all right?" he tried. "I'm not sure," she replied, seriously pondering the question. "I'm still in one piece, so I think that's a good sign. Please, come in. The more the merrier and all that...." Gillian ushered Temnal into the study room and shut the door behind him again. Since Gillian was the person he'd been looking for, and he'd found her, Temnal accepted her invitation to enter, however warily. He glanced around the room as Gillian shut the door. "Introduction are in order," she continued crisply. "Baroness Solataire, this is Temnal, a student at the university and another who's...inflicted...by the Dark Hour. Temnal, this is Baroness Solataire, the great-granddaughter of Suhuy." Temnal recognized the name even if he'd never met its possessor before. He blinked, once, then bowed. "Baroness. It's an honor to meet you." The thought did flit through his mind that if there was anyone in the multiverse who might be knowledgeable about Chaos-spawned diseases, the current Keeper of the Logrus might just be that person. Solataire offered Temnal a welcoming grin, “Either way, greetings. So good of you to join us. Forgive the tension in the air. But hopefully that will pass.” She patted the seat beside her, “As odd as it might appear, we are all friends here.” "You know Seabhac and Malachi already...and the sleeping wolf is Prince Rook, Eric's son." "Seabhac, Malachi," Temnal greeted his fellow students. Seabhac dipped his head to Temnal. Since they’d last met, the young man had suffered grievous injuries to the face. He now wore his Daemon-aspect – undoubtedly to accelerate the healing process. Gillian indicated a seat on the bench next to Solataire for Temnal and retook her own seat next to Seabhac. "Oh, and there's tea." Temnal immediately gravitated toward the tea-tray, not because he had a particular yen for tea, but because it would delay his needing to sit down. "Can I pour for anyone else?" he inquired. “Please?” Solataire said, extending her cup. “You wouldn’t by chance be Temnal - Lord Gaynor’s ward. Sekhmet mentioned her brother attended this school.” "Yes, Temnal nov'dy Chanicut," Temnal affirmed. He didn't bother to say 'foster brother,' since the form of his name would tell Solataire that even if she hadn't known it already. The wariness was already fading from his expression as he filled the Baroness's tea cup. "You know Sekhmet?" Gillian squeezed Seabhac's hand under the table. Solataire nodded with a knowing smile, “She is a Hellmaiden and serves in the Great Temple. We have spoken on several occasions. A lovely woman with a flair for Flesh-crafting and politics. I’d considered spawning her with my son. But then, that could be awkward.” A low purr burbled in her chest. Seabhac squeezed Gillian’s hand all the harder, focusing his gaze on the interesting grains of wood in the table. Even if he hadn't been shedding already, he would have crawled out of his skin. She started to turn toward him, concerned, but Solataire brought her back abruptly to the matter-at-hand. Temnal also gave the Baroness a somewhat alarmed look, but didn't manage to say anything before she turned the subject. Solataire sighed, “Now shall we continue discussing the upcoming destruction of Amber?” Gillian straightened on the bench. "Um...it's really avoiding the upcoming destruction of Amber. I know it's implied in your statement--at least I hope it is--but I felt more comfortable sticking it in." She adjusted her glasses nervously and dropped her hands back into her lap. "We were discussing who might possibly have the knowledge and resources and motive to create the Dark Hour. And also how the Baroness Solataire can help us in this matter." Temnal looked at Gillian curiously. "Then you don't think it is ... the Baroness's predecessor? Solataire shook her head, then steepled her fingertips beneath her chin. “I do not believe he is responsible for this occurrence. From what little I’ve been told, this sounds like Undershadow - the Wake - is bleeding through into this world. Or, at the very least, an incarnation of that Lower Realm. This would require control of or damage to the Primal Pattern. Even Pa-pa at his strongest could not have accomplished that feat. He would have done more damage to himself, most likely. No. Whoever or whatever caused your Dark Hour possesses the power of Pattern.” A sly smile curled her lips. “Now, that said, Suhuy would certainly take advantage of this situation. It may also explain why he has been so difficult to locate of late. If he has discovered this flaw in the Pattern, he will do everything in his power to worsen its effects.” Seabhac nodded, “He still has supporters in Chaos, who would gladly reignite the war.” Malachi thought carefully, then framed a question. "A flaw in the Pattern. Didn't I hear that it was damaged once before, during the war? So is this damage that can be repaired or is it some flaw," here he paused to find the right word, "...inherent to the Pattern itself? I mean, if it's broken, can't we fix it? Or can't someone?" Solataire nodded, “Yes.” She smiled faintly, “Allow me to explain. Prince Brand’s manipulations did untold damage to the Primal Pattern. That damage resonated throughout Creation, including the Logrus. Many believe King Oberon died attempting to repair that damage. Many would argue that Prince Corwin was the Savior. I believe there are truths in both theories, as well as errors.” She sipped her tea, “Prince Corwin’s formation of the Rose Pattern assisted Oberon in reestablishing Order. Like creating a temporary dam to hold back a raging torrent. It allowed the King enough time to prevent Creation from unraveling. Yet, no one quite knows what Oberon did to repair the damage. They simply found his body afterwards. Untouched, yet drained of life. “Despite this sacrifice, however, something remains. . . broken. I am certain of this because of one thing. The Scar - the path left by the Black Road - should have dissolved when Order was reestablished. And yet, it persists. Even with the balancing effects of Ygg. I believe that something here is binding the Logrus to the Primal Pattern. Very subtle. But exceedingly powerful.” [Solataire] tilted her head, her wintery gaze drifting over those assembled. “Now tell me, do you know what Opened the Way prior to the War?” Malachi had difficulty separating lore from history on this point, but remembered a discussion, half-understood at the time, about this with a more learned uncle. "The blood of Amber," he said. "Of Prince Martin." "Prince Brand shed it in some rite, I believe, but the public histories are rather vague on the details," Gillian added. She glanced surreptitiously at Temnal, wondering what Brand-in-his-head was thinking of this conversation. Temnal was wondering that too, but he felt constrained to add, "In Chaos, the Scar is also said to be the result of a curse laid on his foes by Prince Corwin. He is still sometimes called the 'Opener'." Strangely, Brand’s thoughts felt muddled, blurry. Each time Temnal attempted to gleam something from the snarl of thoughts, more tangles blocked his way. Dreams and reality meshed, bled into one another to create a chaotic soup. The madness of a fevered - or drugged - mind Solataire smiled, “Smart boy.” She glanced between Gillian and Malachi, “You are seeing the tree and not its branches. That is to be expected. As Malachi stated, Brand’s attempted parricide did indeed damage the Primal Pattern. But the Black Road is Prince Corwin’s creation; a manifestation of his Blood Curse. Unfortunately, the results of Brand's failure prevented the Primal Pattern from constraining its effects.” Seabhac blinked, “But, grandfather’s stories…” The Baroness rolled her eyes, “Feeling a little Keyser Sözed, are we?” [Gillian] thought back to the journal she'd found at the Athenaeum, the one with the sketch of what Cybelle said was the Primal Pattern. The sketch that almost killed her when she looked at it. She'd been so sure that journal had been Suhuy's. If not his, then who's? She needed to break the code in it and find out. Should she bring the journal up right now? The information was pertinent, but she still wasn't sure how much she trusted Solataire to have Amber's best interests in mind. Safer to wait until the Dark Hour. Gillian addressed the Baroness. "Um...can you provide them? The details, that is?" Solataire tilted her head, raising a brow. “Of the ritual? No. But it is known that the Pattern is tied to the blood. I suspect Brand intended to utilize Prince Martin as a reagent, so he could re-draw it in his image. The attempt failed for several reasons. But the damage had been done. Entropy began to creep into the system, disrupting the balance. Prince Corwin gave it another push. And then Brand and Pa-pa made it all the worse.” "So the question is," said Malachi, "Is entropy truly irreversible, as one of my professors says? Or can the Pattern be healed? You said King Oberon was found dead near the Pattern. Maybe he was trying to repair it when he died." Solatiare nodded, “That is what many believe. Apparently, he failed.” "And, um," he said, frowning in concentration, "What's Bob got to do with all this? He's up to something, but it doesn't seem as though he's trying to actually fix the Pattern at all. Surely he knows what's happening." “Oh, I am certain Bob – Dworkin – realizes something is amiss,” Solataire replied. “He is not a Proxy, such as I am with the Logrus. No, Dworkin is the Manifestation of the Pattern. Its living embodiment. They are indivisible. Damage to one affects the other. Undoubtedly explaining his madness then and now. But one does not truly recognize their madness. Nor can one identify a single flaw within their body.” She reached over and lightly pinched Malachi’s hand. “You feel pain, yes? But can you identify the exact nerve emitting that pain? No?” She smiled, knowingly. “Dworkin is equally blind to his injury.” Temnal regarded Solataire a bit bemusedly. "Indivisible, yes ... but shouldn't that be the other way about? I mean, Dworkin created the Pattern, did he not? You talk as if the Pattern created him." Solataire chuckled, “Didn’t it? The Primal Pattern existed long before Dworkin created Amber and its reflections. It chose its Manifestation well. And when he took the Jewel from the Unicorn, he sealed his fate. Gillian shrugged. "He wasn't exactly coherent last time we spoke to him. Mirelle told us that she didn't know why he had created us, or how, but to explore the Dark Hour and do whatever we must, whatever that may be. Then she apologized for not being able to be more forthcoming. It was all rather vague and disturbing and alarming.... "She suggested starting with slaying the twelve Shadows Temnal spoke of. There was no mention of Pattern, primal or otherwise." Malachi, who has never heard of the Primal Pattern, shelves that question away for another day. "Twelve Shadows?" he asks. "I'm not familiar with that." Privately, he was more interested in when Gillian had spoken with Mirelle. Solatarie and Seabhac also grew attentively silent. Gillian looked at Temnal for the explanation. "The Shadows in question are the big nasty creatures we've been battling in the Dark Hour," Temnal explained. "They're collations of trapped souls. Killing them frees their components ... one of the first inhabitants of the Hour that I met told me that, and what I've sensed since then confirms it." He glanced back over at Gillian in turn. "I think we've accounted for, what is it, two of them so far? There was one that got into the lab, and then the flying thing we crashed into the mountain last night." Gillian nodded. "Azghoul called the one we destroyed last night The Tower. And the one in the lab The Priestess. It mentioned the names of other shadows: The Lovers, The Hanged Man, The Hierophant. I don't understand the connection, but they appear to be named after the major arcana in the tarot. But there are twenty-two arcana, not twelve..." "Perhaps the other ten have already been destroyed," Temnal hazarded. "Or have not yet formed," he added with a frown. Solataire nodded, but did not appear convinced. “It is possible, yes. However, the creature you encountered may simply be using the designations as an analogy. The Tarot are common throughout Shadow, as they are Reflections of the True Trump. And while they take on many guises, the Tarot symbolize various facets of Creation. Archetypes, if you will. The Self. The Shadow. The Persona. What have you. There are countless Archetypes, depending on your philosophy. Or very few.” Seabhac leaned forward on his elbows, “And such archetypes might be part of an even greater ‘Whole.’” Solataire frowned, “Yes. Your ‘Tower’ may have been the entity’s destructive impulses, for example. The Priestess being its subconscious nature.” "Sure," Gillian agreed. "I was just wondering whether the connection was metaphorical, as you're suggesting, or more...literal..." Solataire smiled, “That, my darling little sausage, is what experimentation is for.” "It doesn't feel much like experimentation when you are in the midst of it," said Malachi. She trailed off, really wanting to discuss that particular topic with her Other and not with Solataire. She still wasn't sure how far she trusted the diminutive woman, though the trump reading regarding her was very positive, suggesting there could be secrets revealed and spiritual growth as a result of the relationship. On the other hand, the woman was the Avatar of the Logrus and arguably one of the most powerful people in existence and she could swat Gillian like a fly and did she see what she did to Prince Rook? But...sweet unicorn...secrets revealed... Gillian looked down and tugged at her skirts, not sure where to take the discussion next or what do with the Baroness now that she was here in Amber. "Um...you said you might be interested in a spot of shopping?" Gillian ventured to Solataire, raising her brown eyes. "Unless there's anything else anyone wanted to discuss?" Solataire nodded, “Indeed. Mother left me some funds here. It is time I spent them. Before my son does.” She grinned warmly at Gillian. “And it would be lovely to engage in a little ‘girl’ talk." A prickle ran down Gillian's back. She forced a smile. "When one spends all day working in the Protein Vats, good conversation is difficult to come by. All that mewing and pleading. . . ‘kill me, please, kill me. . .’ So triflingly mundane.” [Solataire] rolled her eyes and gave an exaggerated sigh. Malachi's eyes narrowed, but he thought better of action. Either this was the woman's clumsy attempt to get a rise from her audience or she was just that hideously evil. Either way, Malachi saw no reason to let her see his revulsion. He noted, almost in passing, that death had changed yet another aspect of his personality. Was he becoming wiser? Or simply more passive? It was hard to say. Gillian glanced at Seabhac with some alarm at Solataire's monologue. Was she really that callous? Or was this for show, to get a reaction? Seabhac shifted uncomfortably at the thought of his girlfriend and. . . well. . . whatever Solataire was to him. . . out on the town. “No. Nothing that can’t wait until later, I guess. I’ll make sure Rook wakes up.” "I'm certainly not leaving him," said Malachi. He disliked leaving Gillian in this woman's presence, but suspected that he could do no more to protect her than she could herself. Moreover, he knew she was much smarter than he; if she decided to go with Solataire, who was he to gainsay her? Seabhac nodded to Malachi, “Don’t worry. We won’t. And I’ll need to calm him before he does something rash.” Gillian squeezed Seabhac's hand. "You have my trump, and I have yours," she murmured, misunderstanding why he was uncomfortable. Or perhaps she understood, but was protecting him. "I can always call if there's an...issue. Assuming you'll be around and not out-of-reach?" Seabhac leaned over and kissed her cheek softly. He whispered, “I’m sorry. . . Just. Be careful. Okay?” With a final squeeze of her hand, he stood up and went to Rook’s aid. She turned to address Temnal and Malachi. "Meet tonight, usual place and usual time?" "I assume so," Temnal replied, "barring unforeseen circumstances." He looked a little uncertainly at Solataire, wondering if she'd end up inviting herself along, and whether or not that would be a good thing when it came to dealing with Greater Shadows. "Count on it," said Malachi. Solataire batted her eyelashes at Malachi, and then stood up, smoothing her dress. “Well, a very eventful tea. I do so hope I will see you all again.” She turned to Gillian and extended her hand, “Shall we, my dear?” "Of course." Gillian smiled and took Solataire's hand in her own, as if they were the best of friends. The only thing betraying her calm facade was a high color to her cheeks. Seabhac dipped his head to Solataire then went over to the prone wolf. He knelt down – the motion obviously causing him some discomfort. An azure light flickered to life in his clawed hand; the scent of wood pine and rain creeping into the room. [Gillian continued in What Happens in Amber Stays in Amber] |
