Droplets of Blood
The day is fresh and bright with the sun, but the tenseness of the Castle and the City belies the good feeling of the day. The Castle itself is rather quiet, and fewer people seem to be in the hallways and rooms. The Guard has been somewhat redeployed to keep order in the City - there is a restlessness there that has raised the incidence of violence and crime.
I know that Bleys and Flora are preparing for tomorrow night's visit from the Chaos delegation. Caine is at sea, supervising more of his rather frenzied exercises to keep the navy fresh and ready to defend Amber. Gerard is more than likely down in the City, helping as he can to maintain order. Vialle isn't in the royal quarters, and I believe that she is spending the morning relaxing. I've heard that Orion has gone down to Arden this morning to meet with the rangers, as Bleys recently instructed. I'm not sure where Shiro is at the moment - there is no answer at his door when I knock.
Thus, I wander the castle for the morning, revisiting my favorite locales - the library, armory, and practice yard. Finding nothing of interest besides the ever-tense atmosphere of Castle Amber, I decide that a refreshing ride in Arden with Sha'kar is in order. I consider leaving a message that I will be relaxing in Arden for the afternoon, but drop such reasoning upon reflection that I can be reached by Trump should my assistance be neccessary.
I leave the castle and stroll toward, and past, the stable, nodding to the stablehands as I pass them. Shortly down the path to Arden, I draw the stylized dagger from my side and lightly plant it in the ground in front of me. As soon as I step back, it shimmers and shifts, becoming the familiar large form of my mount. I scratch under Sha'kar's chin for a moment before swinging astride. As usual, he appears with full tack, no doubt sensing my restlessness and guessing my need for a refreshing jaunt.
Breathing in the cool mountain air, I touch my heels lightly to Sha'kar's side. "Let's try to avoid Orion for the time being, hmm?" I say to his backward-cocked ears. "This situation is getting to everyone, and I have no desire to be in the middle of any tense situations as he is meeting with the Rangers." Sha'kar tosses his mane in response to my voice and flows into that relaxing gait I so enjoy.
As I ride, I reflect upon Benedict's being out of touch and Corwin's abrupt departure.
Really, there are few of my relatives who remain in Amber whom I get along with; and with the talk of recalling those off in Shadow, there will be fewer yet with whom I even care to speak. I would have liked to have accompanied Corwin, or Benedict - assuming he is simply off in Shadow and has not fallen to whatever mysterious circumstances King Random and the others most definitely have. And for that matter, where did Corwin hie off to, anyway? Did he have some lead on this situation that the rest missed?...
Sha'kar, now in Arden proper, lifts his head abruptly, swiveling his ears back and forth alertly. I scan the forest about me, hand dropping to rest casually on my sword hilt, listening for disturbances in the natural forest sounds. Arden was patrolled, but not tamed, and every once in a while something slips past the Rangers, so it is best to be wary - especially with the disappearances.
Not that Amber is all that safe for one of the family at the best of times - I swear, nothing in my previous life prepared me for the curse of the offspring of Oberon.... After a moment, my steed shakes his head and continues on. Shrugging it off as a false alarm, I release the sword hilt and gather up my reins, once more falling into reflection.
I thought I overheard Flora mentioning that she has not attempted to reach Corwin. I think she is afraid; these disappearances have concerned everyone. Not that I have ever been all that impressed by Flora's courage, anyway. I brood momentarily, staring at my mount's deadly horn as it points, arrow-straight, his path through the woods.
And those lunatics from the Church of the Unicorn! I roll my eyes in disgust.
I am all for venerating our patron beast, but really - Sha'kar is not a unicorn - not as Amberites are familiar with a unicorn. He is an altogether different creature - and one from Shadow, at that! I wave my hand, dismissing memories of yesterday's unpleasant meeting (which still left a sour taste in my mouth).
As I ride through Arden, I do see one or two Rangers.
And I suspect I am being observed by a few more.... The ones I do see bow their head at me as I pass, respecting my station. They have a quiet and stern nobility about them, instilled by long years in Julian's service, that has an almost... reassuring quality to it.
At one point when I believe I am out of sight of the Rangers, I pull out my deck of the family's favorite playing cards and thumb through them, looking for Benedict's and Corwin's.
Flora may be too afraid to get answers, and no doubt the others (her included) are too busy plotting how to best take advantage of the situation, but I am not. I shuffle out the two major arcana I am looking for and replace the rest of the deck.
Benedict first, then Corwin. I had tried Benedict before with no response, but once more couldn't hurt. I hold my first choice up before me, signaling Sha'kar with my knees. Ever responsive, he stops and plants his body in a guard stance, ears up and forward, alert. I concentrate on the ice-cold card, reaching for a response in the static surface.
I concentrate on Benedict's card, looking at it, into it and THROUGH it... but nothing happens.
Even with my previous experience with the Trump, I have rarely if ever known such absolute silence from a Trump that does not have the tepid temperature of the dead.... I concentrate with redoubled effort, hoping against hope that it will make a difference, but it does not. Wherever Benedict is, whatever he is doing, he is beyond the ken of the mystical artifact I hold.
I sigh deeply as reality once again offers nothing I had not expected.
Surprises aren't always good, but they are always... interesting.
I shuffle Benedict's Trump back into the deck, and then draw Corwin's. I stare at the handsome man emblazoned on the card, and open my mind to his image, willing it to focus. Suddenly I feel a twinge of energy at the back of my head, behind my ears. It's different, not a normal feeling. I press on with a surge of hope to fend off the disquiet of this new sensation.
As the seconds tick by, the twinge becomes a throbbing, then an itching, then even perhaps a burning. But I refuse to pay it any heed, as the Trump is finally starting to respond. It is becoming darker, even fading to near-black. But as it does so, the image of Corwin is distorting. The proud and clear gaze is becoming bleary, fatigued and glassy. The clothes are becoming torn, grey and tattered. And the mind...
The pain in my mind has grown substantially, but I fight it back as I feel the first intimations of a mental contact. Finally I pierce through whatever veil or barrier separates Corwin from I, and I feel a phrase in my mind....
THANK THE UNICORN YOU'RE HERE!
Suddenly everything turns white-hot and searing, and then black.