Millbank Manor and Elsewhere
June 1903
I was dining alone the evening when Brand decided to teach me a lesson I wouldn't forget. Thérèse was in London with Lucien, both of them at school, and I, for once, had decided to relax on familiar territory. I had been abroad a lot recently, and it was good to be home.
My first inkling that anything was wrong came as I was finishing dessert. I felt the onset of a headache, suddenly and with no obvious cause, and was overwhelmed by the feeling of another presence trying to invade my mind. My instinct was to block it, but the pressure increased and I found that even my shields were unable to prevent the attack from hitting me. Finally, I surrendered to it, vowing to myself that I would take down whoever was intruding in my mind before they got me.
I prepped a mental blast to send my attacker reeling, then stopped resisting. However, to my surprise I became aware of what felt like Brand's mind in my head, and if I concentrated I could almost see him in front of me, standing in the park land in front of his residence near Canterbury.
"I'm impressed, Robert. That wasn't a bad attempt at blocking," he said brightly, and extended his arm towards me, "would you bring me through? We need to talk."
I looked at him blankly, trying to work out why his image seemed so real in front of me.
"I don't appreciate being attacked," I said, coldly.
"That wasn't an attack," came his reply, "that was my way of attracting your attention. It seems to have worked. The game is afoot, as that friend of yours is wont to say, and it's time you were capable of stepping onto the playing field. Now bring me through, there's a good chap."
There was something about his tone and manner that suggested to me that he was nervous - perhaps as if he did not want some outside party finding out what he was doing. His request still made no sense, though.
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Just take my hand and pull," he answered, perhaps with a trace of annoyance in his voice. I stood and reached out for his hand, and was surprised to clasp something solid. I grabbed it and drew it towards me, and suddenly he was in the room with me. The image behind him, of the large stone house, then broke up into myriad rainbow lights.
"Good, good. Thank you. Now, to business."
"What spell did you use to get here?" I asked, annoyance slowly beginning to give way to curiosity.
"It wasn't a spell, per se. It was one of these," he answered, and out of his pocket he drew what looked for all intents and purposes like a Tarot deck.
"A playing card," I commented, feeling distinctly as if he was pulling some kind of idiotic joke, and not being particularly amused by it.
"No, not just a playing card. These are called Trumps," he replied, and he moved down the table and started dealing cards face up on the table. I crossed to join him, and took a look at the cards. Instead of the suits I had expected to see - cups, staves, etc. - the faces of the cards had portraits on them, my own included. I was standing on the terrace outside the French windows leading into the drawing room, dressed for hunting.
I scanned the pictures on the cards. His own was there, as was Sand's, and a collection of men and women, many of them dressed in historical costumes from three and four hundred years ago, but I did not recognise any of the others: with the possible exception of one of a red haired woman who I felt I should know. When he saw me looking at that card, he picked it up and returned it to his pocket.
"Very pretty," I commented, glancing at the remaining portraits. My artist's eye had to concede that the work was excellent, after all, I knew Brand's hand well enough, "but I have to ask why you're carrying a set of miniatures around in your pocket."
"They are a communications device," he replied, and handed me the picture of himself. I was surprised to feel that it was cold. "Now concentrate on the card...it might take you a few minutes to activate it first time around."
I did as I was bid, and after a minute or so, I saw Brand's image resolve in front of me, even though I knew he was standing off to one side, and I could feel his mind.
He nodded, as if pleased. "Not bad," he said in my head, "not bad at all. Simple, isn't it? With a little practise I expect you will get fairly adept at using them. I suspect you have an affinity for them, given the speed with which you seem to have picked this process up. Your father certainly has."
I stopped concentrating and his image was gone.
"What is the range on these?" I asked, my curiosity definitely piqued, "they look as if they could be very useful - although I would have said they make you dangerously vulnerable. Use them and you are right past the other person's shields."
"Their range is virtually infinite," came his reply.
"Like from here to Australia?"
"Far further than that, but you are right. Each time you use them is a risk. Let's adjourn to somewhere more comfortable. We need to talk."
He collected the cards together, and then I led him towards the library.
"Who are the other people?"
"Most of them are my brothers and sisters, plus one or two friends."
"I hadn't realised you had such a large family. I had always assumed you were an only child - you have never mentioned your relatives before."
"That is because it wasn't time for you to find out about them, Robert," he answered as he preceded me into the library and sat himself down in one of the armchairs, "however, now things are changing, and it's time you were made familiar with who and what you are. You are my nephew. Your father and your Aunt Sand are my half-brother and -sister."
"I think you're mistaken. Sand was Duke William's only sister," I protested, "I know I have always called you uncle, but that was a term of endearment, rather than an acceptance of a blood relationship between us."
"No, it is you who are mistaken," he answered tartly, then paused for a moment, and continued in a slightly less imperious tone, "no, that is unfair. They did not want you to know. Now, however, they have agreed that it is probably time you learned your heritage."
"They?"
"Sand and your father."
"You keep mentioning him in present tense," I commented, surprised, "Brand, my father is dead. He died over a hundred and fifty years ago."
Brand smiled. "What does that prove?" he asked, "I distinctly remember attending two of your own funerals."
"That was different," I protested, although I felt a nagging thought beginning at the back of my mind that maybe there was something in what he was saying, "the Elixir has been working sufficiently well that every so often I need a break."
"Robert, when are you going to realise that the Elixir of Life doesn't exist? It's a myth perpetrated by alchemists over the centuries. But they cannot live forever. No mortal can - that is what it means to be mortal."
"And what about you? You have been alive longer than I have."
"Yes, but I have never resorted to an external source to maintain that. It isn't necessary. I am immortal."
I looked across at him, trying to read from his expression whether or not he was joking, but there was no sign of humour in his eyes. He really believed what he said.
"No-one is immortal," I said, with a quiet certainty.
"Try telling your friend Saint-Germain that," Brand retorted, "what is he now? Close to four thousand years old."
"He is a different case," I protested, "he paid the ultimate price to become what he is, and not by his choice. I know I haven't done the same, and I would be surprised if you have."
"And he, also, publicly explains it as the Elixir of Life as the truth is too strange for a normal human to accept," came the matter of fact reply, "and yet it has never bothered you." A pause. "But no, you are right, I have never died...as yet, anyway. But neither have I ever taken that chemical concoction of yours. I am immortal, because my family is immortal. You are immortal, as you are also a member of that family, and so are your sons."
"You're trying to tell me that I'm not human," I said, incredulous.
"Something like that."
"You'll forgive me if I don't immediately leap over backwards to believe you."
"I will understand it...however, hopefully you will be convinced by the time I'm finished."
"We'll see. So what happens now?"
"First, I give you these," he replied, separating a handful of cards from his collection and handing them to me. I looked at them to see two each of myself, Andrew, and the library of Millbank, one of the townhouse, one of Sand and one of Brand himself. "Given time, I will teach you how to draw these: at least you can paint, so that's a good start. However, I do not know when I will get the chance, so take these for now, for emergencies."
"And second?"
"And second, we're going for a ride. Warn your staff. We could be some time."
"And Lucien and Thérèse?"
"I am sure they will be fine. If you are worried, get one of your servants to take them a message."
I followed his instructions, and once Barnes knew what was happening, and I had changed into something more appropriate - with some degree of trepidation - I met up with Brand once more and we headed towards the kitchen and out into the yard behind it. My companion strode across to the stables, and started looking at the horses.
"This one, and...this one," he said to the sleepy, somewhat surprised looking stable boy, "if you would saddle them up for His Grace and myself immediately."
The boy nodded, and set about his business, while Brand came back to join me.
"Why those two? Aspen is a better animal than Kishalla."
"They looked like most sensible ones. It will be strange where we are going, and I would prefer it if our horses weren't frightened to death on the way."
Jed joined us about ten minutes later, leading the two animals. Brand indicated for me to choose my preferred mount, which I did, and then he swung himself up into the saddle.
"Come on, Robert. We should be going."
"Going where?" I asked, mounting up myself and gently kicking the horse into a walk.
"Into Shadow."
He led off into the fields, and quickly urged his mount to a canter. I matched his speed, and we headed for the woods. At least there was still enough of the evening light to see where we were going.
However, very soon I realised that something was wrong. We hit the trees on schedule, and cantered single file up the bridle-way with Brand leading - he knew the woods almost as well as I did, given the amount of time he had spent at Millbank. However, as we rode, I realised that the woods seemed to be going on for too long - we had to have been riding for the best part of three quarters of an hour, at a good pace, and it normally took about half that to get through Millbank Woods - and the bridle-way was more a wide green-way. Then, as I looked about me, I could see that the trees were turning from deciduous to pine. Fine, except that there weren't any major stands of pine in the grounds of my estate.
"Where are we going?" I asked, pulling up beside him, "Hell, where are we?"
"We've moved a couple of Shadow Veils," he answered, slowing his mount. He smiled. "That's better. I enjoyed the canter, but it is easier to shift Shadow at a slower pace."
"Would it surprise you if I told you that I don't have the slightest idea of what you're talking about?"
"No," came the answer, "it wouldn't surprise me at all. But you will by the time we get to our destination."
"Which is?"
"Amber."
The name felt as if it should be familiar, but I couldn't immediately place it. I delved into my memory, to try and work out what it might be, but all I came up with was a picture of the red haired woman I had seen in Brand's Trump deck shouting at my father, tears in her eyes. "You will regret this, outlaw son of Amber."
I wondered.
"Brand," I asked, quietly, "is my mother still alive?"
"Oh yes," came his answer, "very much so. She misses you still, you know, and she has never forgiven your father for driving her away."
"Is she in this...Amber?"
"No. Amber is where my family comes from, not hers."
"Is it far?"
"It will take us multiple days if we ride all the way. However, I have no intention of riding through Arden, not while Julian holds it, so we shall speed the process up once your current lesson is completed."
"My current lesson."
Brand grinned. "Hadn't you realised? I'm taking you on a field trip. First comes Shadow."
"Shadow. You use that term a lot."
"It describes what we are riding through. Shadows are the individual worlds that make up the space between the two poles of existence, Amber and Chaos, and the people who live in those worlds. For your information, we will be visiting both poles before we return to Millbank."
"We're riding through another world?" I asked, incredulous. I felt about me with my magical senses, then realised that I couldn't grab onto the power I was feeling for and felt suddenly vulnerable. "What the Hell...?"
"The laws of magic vary from Shadow to Shadow," Brand answered, realising the reason for my discomfort without my vocalising it as such, in his usual perplexing way, "in some places, it will not work at all - at least for a normal mage. You, of course are not a normal mage. Your race on Terra Magica - and they are a race apart: genetic mages - carry the potential for magic within them, and do not have to rely on the local laws in the same way as the average Shadow mage, although they do need to have a feel for the Shadow they are on."
"Then why can't I find anything to work with?"
"It's there, but you need to be taught how to reach for it. There should be an inn just up the way. We can stop for a while and I will endeavour to show you the technique."
True enough, as we turned the next corner, we came across a quiet but comfortable looking tavern called the Prince's Head, with the image of a bearded, red-haired man dressed in fire red clothing on the board. I noticed a smile on my companion's lips as he saw the sign. I looked around us, wondering how he had known it was there. There was no village as such. The inn seemed to be in the middle of nowhere, and I could not work out why anyone would bother to set up such an establishment in such a place.
"That comes in lesson two," Brand said lightly, as he saw my puzzlement.
"What?"
"Walking round a corner and knowing exactly what you'll find. Come on."
Fighting the urge to strangle him for being more obtuse than usual, I followed as he led us inside, to a quiet booth in one corner of the tap room. The atmosphere was subdued, and there were very few people inside. Looking around, the place seemed strange, and the people were dressed as if they had walked out of an early eighteenth century play. I thought we must look pretty conspicuous, until I actually looked at my riding jacket and saw that I was wearing clothes akin to those of my youth. Glancing at Brand I could see that he was also.
"Neat trick."
"The ability to blend into the surroundings you've come across is all linked to the Pattern - the thing that gives my father's family its power. I will explain further later."
He called over the tavern wench, ordered a pitcher of mead, then looked back at me.
"I will need to make a mental contact with you to do this - I need to show you what to draw on to check the magical field in a Shadow, as I couldn't explain it in a month of Sundays."
I shrugged. I had no reason to believe he would wish me ill. He had been my teacher on and off for a long time, and I was used to working with him in that manner. "Let's do it."
I saw him concentrate for a few moments, then he smiled. "We should have some privacy now...I wouldn't want to give anyone the wrong idea." Then he reached out his left hand towards me and rested it on my temple, his fingers cool as they touched me.
"Now relax," he said, very gently, and I felt the familiar touch of his mind. As I followed, I could see him magically extending his senses to feel for...then I realised what he was doing. I could see why the place felt different to my home, and the magic in the inn suddenly made sense.
"Good," he said, quietly, "you always were a quick student. Do you think you can duplicate the effect?"
"I can try."
"Go for something simple. A light spell."
I repeated the process he had shown me, discovering as I did so that it seemed easier to catch the threads of magic in that place than it had the first time, and concentrated on the simplest spell in the mage's book. It took marginally longer than normal to cast, but soon the ball of light was glowing in my hand.
"Very good," Brand commented, "I trust you feel a little less vulnerable now."
"Somewhat," I conceded.
"Good, it is not my intention to make you feel afraid...just to make you aware of your options. Do you feel like riding on any further this evening?"
"On the theory that it feels like about midnight from my point of view, no. Not really."
"Then we will stay here, and continue on our way in the morning."
We set off after breakfast, and this time I took more notice of what my companion was doing. As we rode he seemed to be concentrating, and I could sometimes see his lips moving, as if he was reciting some kind of litany to himself. Around us, I could see the changes he was making. The trees taller. The grass fading gently from green to a more blue shade. The sky varying between blue and the oranges of sunset. Soon, the trees began to disappear altogether, and we were riding down a road with a black surface, marked with white.
In the distance, I could hear a roaring sound that I could not identify. Hearing this, my companion gestured us to move to the side of the road, and moments later some kind of vehicle passed us, one which was not pulled by horses, and yet did not smell as if it was powered by steam. The fumes it generated were decidedly unpleasant if truth be told.
"Dare I ask?"
"It was a car - they are beginning to use them here instead of horses, and while they are uncommon as yet, I thought it probable that one would be driving along here and now" came his answer.
"You're doing it again," I said, smiling, "you 'thought it probable'."
"It is a function of the Pattern. When you walk it in Tir?na Nog'th, two nights from now, you will understand."
We rode on, and eventually saw a small city ahead of us. We passed a sign, which read "Worcester, 2 miles." I looked into the distance, trying to make out features of the skyline, and had to admit that the profile of the cathedral against the sky looked familiar.
"How?"
"There are multiple worlds, Robert, as I was saying last night. Those worlds are sometimes reminiscent of places you know - not all of them, or course, although ones with a high degree of similarity are usually grouped together. The one we are on, Earth Prime, and your home, Terra Magica, are very close Shadows. Your histories are very similar, and your famous historical figures and the ones here are almost identical: both Englands have been ruled by Queen Victoria until recently, for example. The major difference between the two is that your world has magic, this one has technology. I'll spend today showing you around a little, and then in the morning we will head for Amber."
I smiled. "If that vehicle that passed us is an example of their technology, I'd say we had the better deal."
"There are pros and cons of both systems," he answered, his tone neutral.
We spent the day exploring, first in their Worcester, and then Brand teleported us and the horses to a farm he knew of outside of their London. We left our mounts with his friends, and then made our way into the city, and it was interesting to see how like, and yet how unlike my home this place was. I could recognise buildings and streets, but nothing was quite the same. I was fascinated. And as we explored, he told me more about himself, his family, and Amber.
We stayed at the Dorchester, and tucked away on the corner of Deanery Street behind it was the townhouse.
"If I wanted to, could I buy that?" I asked, curious.
"I think it's probable that it is on the market at the moment, yes," Brand answered, smiling, "we can discuss it with the estate agent before we move on - you should be able to get back here yourself to see to the details: once I show you how to teleport cross-Shadow - or gate, if you want to be technical."
It was surreal to walk into the estate agents to start the arrangements to buy my own house the following day, though. Shadow would take some getting used to.
We set off mid-morning, and soon that London was behind us. The changes around us seemed more obvious this time, as if Brand was speeding our way, rather than just taking me on a leisurely stroll. He seemed less talkative, too. I amused myself by using the trick he had taught me to feel for the magic, to monitor the changes in the magic field around us, but the best investigative spell I could bring to bear could not make head or tail of how he was manipulating the landscape.
By late-afternoon, Brand had decided that we had ridden far enough, and we released the horses. I regretted it slightly, hoping that we would find them again later. Then we had proceeded very carefully on foot, as if dodging some unseen enemy, and finally reached the top of a cliff. From the summit we looked down, looking down at the oldest forest I had ever seen - lying low to avoid being framed against the skyline. Below us, the road stretched into the forest, and there seemed to be some kind of checkpoint.
"We wait here until nightfall - or at least nearby," he said, tiredness in his voice, "I don't want to be too obvious to Julian's hawks."
"Are we close to Amber?"
"Fairly," he answered, and extended his hand, "look beyond the forest."
I did as I was bid, and could make out a range of high mountains, almost far enough away that they were disappearing into the haze. I looked harder, and almost fancied I could see light reflecting off something near to the summit of one of the taller mountains.
"That is the city, however with my father there, I am loathe to take you into Amber itself. He is not kind to unexpected relatives."
As he spoke, his eyes narrowed slightly, and I could see a flash of hatred in them.
"Come."
He led us off the road, and back down the slope into the undergrowth below it. We found a hollow, out of sight of whatever Julian's hawks were, and made ourselves comfortable. Brand lay down on his back, hands behind his head. Soon he was dozing, but I decided to stay awake, just in case. Anyway, the feel of the place intrigued me. It seemed more...real than I was used to. I felt for the magic, and realised that this place was strong in it. Curious, I sat and waited for my companion to awaken, enjoying the warmth of the late spring day.
I shook Brand awake at nightfall, and he was quickly alert.
"Any sign of trouble?" he asked, quietly.
"Nothing."
"Better than I had hoped. We should be gone from here."
With that, we stood carefully, and he brought out his Trump deck and concentrated on one of the cards. Then he rested his hand on my shoulder, and stepped forwards. Immediately I was struck by the change of temperature, and the change in the air, as if we were suddenly at a much higher altitude than we had been previously. I took a deep breath and looked around me.
We were high on a mountain. It seemed dark initially, but as the moon rose full it became much brighter around us. Below us I could see the glinting lights of a city. Amber presumably. There was a strange formation of rocks off to one side, above us, almost like steps, and I was surprised when, as the moon strengthened, a ghost of a staircase began to form.
"What is this place?" I asked.
"We are on Mount Kolvir," Brand answered, "what you see forming is the sky city, Tir?na Nog'th. It is a very special Shadow of the city below us."
He crossed to the rock formation, and put his hand to the staircase. "It's firm. Come."
And with that he headed upwards. With some trepidation, I followed him, trying very hard to ignore the fact that if I looked too long I could see through the staircase.
I have no idea how long we walked for, but eventually we crested the top of the staircase, and found ourselves in a courtyard. In the centre was a statue of a man in his middle years, but looking as hard as ice.
"Your grandfather. Oberon, King of Amber," Brand offered.
"I have never heard the name, except in Shakespeare."
"Believe me, Shakespeare's version was a good guy," came the reply.
I looked around, surprised to see images of people as well as the place. From out of the main doorway, I saw a couple emerge. A woman with long hair, dressed in armour with an axe at her belt, her arm around the waist of a striking looking man. It was difficult to get any idea of their colouring, though, as everything was black and white.
They crossed to the statue and kissed, the kiss passionate. I saw the woman's hands ring the man's back and she moved them up towards his neck, slowly and gently. I did not realise what they contained until it was too late. She moved them rapidly, and something passed around his neck. A garrotte. I tried to shout a warning to him, but Brand rested his hand on my shoulder.
"It isn't real."
It didn't stop the urge to want to warn the man before she murdered him. Then their eyes met, and what expression I could see was still loving, rather than frightened. He nodded, and smiled, and then the woman drew the wire tight and choked his life away. He fell to his knees, whereupon she released the wire and pulled the axe from her belt. As I watched, horrified and fascinated at the same time, I saw her reverse it and bring down the back of the blade on the man's head. His skull split and he dropped like a stone, and I saw the ghostly blood seep onto the plinth of the statue of my grandfather.
"Jesus, Brand," I said, turning away to look back at the staircase up which we had come, and realising I was shaking, "you could have warned me."
His hand was steady on my shoulder, and that steadiness transferred itself to me. "Tir?na Nog'th is a place of visions. You will see images up here - some disturbing, some mundane. They vary from person to person and from visit to visit," he explained, "however, I did not expect them to start so soon."
"Who were they?"
"The woman is my sister Deirdre. I did not recognise the man," he answered, but from his tone I wasn't sure if he was telling the truth, "come."
When I turned back to the statue, the figures had gone, and the only trace of their presence was a ghostly stain on the stonework.
My companion headed towards the door which the couple had exited the palace by, and entered. The great hall we stepped into was hung with banners, and a great throng was milling, dressed for some important celebration. They were dancing, and drinking, and eating from the buffet. To one end of the room, in front of a pair of double doors, a dais was raised, on which two figures stood, regaled as for a coronation.
The man looked somewhat like the statue in the courtyard...a son, perhaps, stern and noble. The woman, however, was younger and more relaxed, and I recognised her immediately. It was the woman on the card Brand had slipped into his pocket when he had seen me regarding it. The woman I had vague images of in my mind. The woman I remembered vaguely as my mother. I looked at my companion to ask who she was, but the expression on his face pulled me up short. It was a combination of anger and sadness, and it was aimed directly in her direction.
"Later," was all he hissed to me, and we continued our expedition, picking our way through the throng of ghosts. We made for the double doors, and Brand seemed to open them for us to enter. The scene beyond them was completely different, and when I turned and looked back, the revellers were gone, and all that was left was the tired banners, flapping gently in a non-existent breeze.
We were in the throne room of the palace, and Oberon was seated on his throne. At his feet, a bearded man knelt in chains, his head bowed, and a crown lay on a cushion between them.
"The man from the sign at the Prince's Head," I said, quietly.
"I see your artist's eye hasn't failed you," came the reply, "his name is Bleys, and he, too, is my brother."
"What has he done?"
Brand shrugged. "I do not know. It's a vision...it has not happened yet."
Curious, I turned to look at the tableau once more. Oberon was speaking, his stance and expression betraying anger. I saw him kick the crown out of Bleys's sight, and then kick his son on the chin. Bleys fell back, still bound, and struggled to rise. Guards came from all sides and held him down, while Oberon approached him, drawing his sword. As he moved, I became aware of other figures appearing in the room, as if summoned by what was happening.
Oberon brought his weapon up, so the moonlight glittered off the ghostly blade, then seemed to shout in defiance. With a flick of his wrist it was falling, and in one clean stroke it severed his prisoner's head at the neck. Then the King raised the still bloody blade in the air, as one of the guards picked up the head, before wiping it clean on the dead man's clothing and putting it away. He nodded, and the guard held the head up for all to see, and a strange mix of sorrow and defiance was visible on the faces of the crowd.
"I thought you said these visions were few and far between," I said to Brand, quietly.
"I think the city is welcoming you in its own way," he answered, dryly, "either that or you are more sensitive to the city than I had expected."
"If this is a welcome, I'd hate to see the place when it's hostile."
He shrugged, his expression more grim than it had been, and led us out of the hallway. My last sight was of Bleys's body being dragged away.
We walked down hallways, and through the occasional state room, but thankfully no more visions of blood greeted us. There were other scenes being played out, of course. In the dining room, for instance, a young man who bore a slight resemblance to Brand was speaking with a woman with long dark hair. My impression was that he was forcing her to do something she did not want to do, and once again it was hard to resist the urge to interfere. But what could I have done? They were images. They didn't exist.
Of course that didn't stop me noticing how beautiful the woman was, or how furiously she was arguing with her companion, while he maintained a façade of ice, and I had a flash of premonition that I would come across her in reality at some point in my life.
I looked at Brand but he shrugged. "I don't recognise them. They could be of your generation," he answered, "now, here."
He stopped by a doorway off to one side of the dining room and opened it. Behind it was a set of spiral stairs, heading down for as far as I could see. My companion went first and I followed, and slowly we began to descend into the depths, ever downwards until we finally reached a corridor at the bottom.
"The dungeons," he said, helpfully.
"I'd guessed," I answered, with a wry smile, "is this one of the high spots of the tourist circuit?"
"The Pattern is," came his answer, and he led me deftly through the corridors. We came to a short corridor with a door at the end, the ghostly key hanging on a ring beside it. Brand reached for it and almost seemed to touch it. Certainly the door swung open in front of us.
The light from the room beyond was marginally bluer than the ghostly whiteness that I was becoming accustomed to in that place. Brand entered the room and gestured to me to follow him. I did, but as I walked through the door and saw the Pattern, I felt myself freeze and go pale. Just the very sight of it scared the Hell out of me.
"What's wrong, Robert?" he asked, concerned.
"What is it?" I replied, my voice sounding hoarse even to my ears. I stood looking at it, both attracted to it and terrified by it.
"The Pattern of Amber," he answered, "walk this, and you will have the power to manipulate Shadow - the power to walk as I have been doing to bring you here. It is your birthright, Robert. You are the son of a Prince of Amber."
"If I set foot on that thing, it's going to kill me," I said, quietly. I did not know why, but I was certain of it.
"No. You will be fine."
But I shook my head. "How do I know you're right about this? That my father is one of this family of yours."
"Because I promise you that it's true."
I looked at him, and I looked at the Pattern, frozen to the spot.
"I can't," I said, finally.
He looked both disappointed and surprised. "Perhaps your Chaos blood is stronger than I had thought...it may be influencing your reaction to the Pattern."
"Wait. You just said I was the son of a Prince of Amber..."
"And a lady of the Courts," he answered.
"Who am I, Brand?"
"All in good time. For now, however, you have my word that you will not come to harm if you walk it."
But I shook my head.
"No."
With that, I turned and walked out of the room, but I could feel his eyes on my back. I headed down the corridor and back in the direction of the stairs, and soon I felt his presence as he caught up to me. He grabbed my shoulder and turned me towards him.
"You might not get another chance to do this, Robert," he said, his tone stern, "we are here at some considerable risk. Think long and hard before you throw away this opportunity."
I took a deep breath and looked him in the eye.
"I cannot help it. I do not want to die, and while I respect your word, the feeling of hostility from it was so strong that I thought it was going to choke me."
He met my gaze for a moment, as if looking into my thoughts, then shook his head and released my shoulder.
"I had not realised your reaction would be so strong. Perhaps you are right," he said, quietly, "it is a pity. The weapons walking the Pattern would have given you are impressive. However, I can see I shall have to make an alternative arrangement for you. I am not willing to leave you vulnerable."
He paused a moment, as if remembering something painful, then added, "we should be getting back to the staircase soon. It cannot be long until daylight, and this place will cease to exist when the moon goes down."
We headed upstairs at as fast a pace was we could manage. As we left the palace and entered the courtyard, I could see the lightening of dawn off in the east. However, we made it to the stairs in good time, and descended rapidly. As we did so, I glanced at the ground so far beneath us, and where the forest was, I could see smoke and flames, ghostly, yet frightening.
"It looks like it's giving you a parting gift," Brand said, smiling as he drew level to me. However, he looked concerned. "I do not think we will get down in time."
He paused, and concentrated for a moment, then took my arm and we were no longer on the steps, but in a large room, decorated in the Regency style. I was somewhat relieved, as the steps had begun to feel soft under my feet. I looked around me, but did not recognise the place where we had arrived.
He crossed to a drinks cabinet, poured me a Scotch and handed it to me. "You need to steady your nerves, and then you need to sleep," he said, firmly.
"What happened?" I asked, ashamed at my own behaviour now I thought about it.
"I genuinely do not know. You can walk the Pattern. I know you can - I can see the potential in you. I also don't think the problem was assimilating too much information at once: you have always been a quick student, and I got the impression that you were following what I was saying and doing every step of the way. I can see that I am going to have to provide you with an alternative means of travelling Shadow in the short term, though - you need the option, if only to run if my father or any of my brothers decide to take an interest in you."
I smiled, if a little apologetically. "I'm sorry. I can guess that you went to a lot of trouble to set this up, and I seem to have blown your plans apart."
"It happens," he said, his tone pragmatic, "and it will be resolved in time, I am sure of that. But I will grant that you surprised me."
I sat in silence for a moment, and downed my Scotch, beginning to feel angry at myself.
"Why did I break and run?" I asked, finally, standing up and pouring myself anther glass of Brand's Scotch, "it isn't my standard operating procedure. I am not a coward by nature."
"I know that well enough," he answered, "and I cannot explain what happened. Perhaps it is as simple as the fact that the images had unsettled you, and you were expecting the worst." He smiled. "My offer will remain open, Robert. If you change your mind and decide to walk it, then I will do what I can to give you the opportunity."
"Thanks, but just now I don't see that my decision will change."
"We will see. Now, rest. Tomorrow we have another long ride ahead of us."
"To where?"
"To the other end of the Universe. Your lessons won't be completed until you have seen your mother's home, and anyway, I have a good reason to go there right now."
"Which is?" I asked, curious.
"I'm a father, Robert," he said, suddenly grinning broadly, "and two days hence my son Kirk will be named and entered into the rolls of his mother's family. I would like you to be there, as my student and as my friend."
I smiled and raised my glass to him.
"Congratulations. I would be honoured to join you."