Millbank Manor/Tir-na Nog'th
October 1990
I was in my study, going through my solicitor's papers on the progress of the custody battle between myself and Annabel over William - depressing business, I have to say - when I heard the knock at the door.
"Yes?" I asked, a little surprised, and was even more surprised when Andrew walked in. "Since when did you need to knock?"
"I know you've been busy over the last few days, Robert, and I wasn't sure if you wanted to be disturbed," he answered, a trifle apologetically.
"Don't worry. I could do with something else to think about for a while," I answered, putting down my pen.
"It's just that there was something I wanted to discuss with you."
Curious, I leaned back in my chair and gestured for him to sit. He did so, putting his feet up on the other side of the desk, and looked at me.
"Well?" I began, "I'm really not used to you being so formal."
"I think this is the moment for it," he answered, a half smile on his features, "I want your permission to walk the Pattern."
As he said it, I felt my blood run cold. I suppose I had been dreading the request since Brand had mentioned it to him a few years before. While my Uncle seemed very sure that I was of the Blood of Amber, I still found it difficult to credit, and my main remembrance of the day that he had taken me to Tir-na Nog'th and showed it to me was that it seemed alien and dangerous. If he was wrong, then my son was asking for his death sentence.
"Might I ask why?" I asked, finally, trying to keep my concern out of my voice...but unsure I had succeeded from the expression on Andrew's face.
"Because the idea of the freedom it appears to offer intrigues me," he replied, his expression designed to put me more at ease.
"Assuming Brand is right, and we are descended from his family."
Andrew shrugged. "Do you have any good reason to believe otherwise?" he said, gently, "you have known him a long time, and you have always struck me as being pretty close. I don't think he would have mentioned the opportunity to either of us if he did not think we could take it."
"I am fond of him, yes," I said, finally, "and we are friends...even during Patternfall we never completely lost touch with each other. But I still find it very difficult in my mind to accept that Duke William de Lacy of Worcester, and Prince Delwin of Amber are one and the same person."
He looked at me, his expression neutral. "Why?"
"It seems so unlikely. I don't feel like some kind of immortal demi-god, and yet that is what the Amber family are, or so it seems."
"Whereas you've only lived just under three hundred years," he answered, his tone lightly ironic, "what about your friends in Chicago? Kirk, Emily and the rest? You've worked and fought with them, and you've always given me the impression that they treat you as an equal. Hell, Kirk was the one who told you who your parents were."
"I know," I replied, trying to reason out in my own mind why I was so unsure of it all. There really wasn't any good reason, except habit and fear.
"Robert, are you refusing my request?" Andrew asked, finally.
"No," I said, after a pause, "I'm just scared of losing you if either Brand or Kirk are mistaken."
"My gut instinct is that they are not," came his surprisingly confident answer, "it explains too much about both of us. Who we are. Why we're still living and breathing after all this time...look, even you gave up believing the alchemical answer about ninety years ago when Brand first took you on one of his trips."
I looked across at him again, and sighed. "If you are certain, then I will call Brand. Do you have any idea when you want to do this?"
"Why not consider it a birthday present?"
"Andrew, if you're wrong, it will be a fatal one."
"I'm not wrong," he answered, smiling, "thanks."
Three days later, I dug out my Trump deck and gave Brand a call. He was relaxing in the library of one of the houses I had visited with him on occasion, and seemed both pleased and surprised to see me.
"Robert, how are you?"
"Not too bad, I guess," I answered.
"Then why the serious expression?"
"I have a favour to ask," I replied, looking at my old teacher.
"Not an impossible one, I hope," he answered, smiling.
"I don't think so. Andrew wants to walk the Pattern."
"Good for him," came the answer, "are you going to join him?"
"I very much doubt it, but I do want to be there."
"That's fair," he commented, then paused for a moment, as if thinking. "Hmm. Tir-na Nog'th is probably still the best place to do this. I am not quite sure how much Random would appreciate me visiting the basement of the Palace just now."
"Any particular reason?"
"He's an obnoxious little..." Brand began, then caught himself and grinned evilly, "no, one must not speak ill of our beloved monarch...when does Andrew want to do this?"
"I get the impression that it's the sooner the better. I suppose the Amber wanderlust has finally hit him: assuming you are right about us being of the family - it still doesn't seem to have hit me very hard yet."
"Of course I'm right," Brand retorted, "and when he's been successful, I hope you will believe it at last, as he certainly did not inherit the ability to walk the Pattern from his mother. She was a lovely woman, but she was mortal."
I flinched slightly as he said that, a memory of Elizabeth coming to mind, and saw a slightly apologetic look cross Brand's face. However, despite the pain which still came back to haunt me on occasion, I was secretly relieved that my teacher still seemed so sure about my Amber bloodline. Perhaps, as always, I had been over-cautious.
"The moon is up tonight in Amber. We might as well do it then. Be ready and I will call you."
"Thanks."
"My pleasure...you always were one of my most promising students."
I smiled at the compliment, however undeserved it probably was, and broke the contact.
Andrew was with me when Brand called me back that evening, and judging from the view I could see behind him, he was already waiting at the steps to the moon city. I could see the stairs climbing up out of the field of view of the Trump image.
"Are you coming?" he said, smiling, and held out his hand. I took it and passed my son through to him, before stepping through myself.
"Good to see you again, Andrew," he continued, grinning, "so you are going to prove to your father here that I haven't been making everything up all these years."
Andrew matched his expression.
"Put me down as intrigued," he answered.
"Then shall we go? Before some of His Majesty's guards decide to come and find out who's here?" came Brand's reply, and he headed up the stairs. Andrew fell into step just behind him, obviously more keen about the evening's enterprise than I was, and I followed a few steps behind. I just hoped that we wouldn't meet any unpleasant visions on our way to the Pattern Room.
Brand led us inside purposefully, and I got the impression that he wasn't looking for visions tonight. Thankfully, it appeared that Tir-na Nog'th was quiet. In the courtyard we passed a few ghostly guards, obviously going about their daily business rather than reacting to a crisis, but beyond that there was very little happening, it appeared. As we walked through the dining room and back towards the dungeons stairs, though, I caught sight of something out of the corner of my eye that vaguely interested me. It appeared to be myself, having breakfast with a woman who most definitely wasn't Annabel. Her hair was shorter and more curly, and her features looked less harsh from the half glance I got of her. However, when I looked directly towards them, the vision was gone.
Brand and Andrew had already disappeared down the staircase by then, and as they talked I could hear my Uncle telling my son what to expect on the Pattern, and how to best approach it. I followed them down and initially kept an interested ear on what they were saying, but as I had no intention of walking the thing myself my attention drifted slightly. I was more concerned with the if, rather than the how, of whether Andrew would succeed in completing it. Still, I took comfort in the fact that Brand's certainty that he could do it never wavered for an instant.
Once we reached the bottom of the stairs I began trying to remember the route we had taken the first time he took me to Tir-na Nog'th - the night I discovered that I was too scared to test his theory and step foot on the thing myself. We reached the Pattern Room a short while later, and Brand took us inside. I saw a somewhat awe-struck expression cross Andrew's face as he got his first look at it.
"Robert, of course we can walk it. Can't you tell?" he said, surprised, but I shook my head. To me it still seemed uncomfortable and hostile.
"Andrew, it scared the Hell out of me the last time I was here, and it's doing it again," I answered, believing it. Brand just looked at me and smiled.
"You will change your mind eventually, Robert," he said, gently, then turned back to my son, "the start is over there. Remember what I have told you, and you should be fine."
Should, not will. No, my mind was making up inferences that weren't there. I looked at Andrew, heading towards the start of the design, and noted his confidence.
"Good luck," I finally called.
"Thanks, Robert," he said, smiling, "and don't worry. It'll be fine."
As he placed his left foot on the start, I felt myself catching my breath. I didn't let it out again until he had taken the first few steps. However, at least by then he was still alive and moving, and that boded well. I crossed to Brand, standing closer to the Pattern, by my eyes were fixed on my son.
"He'll be fine, Robert," said Brand, quietly, resting his hand on my shoulder, "you should have more confidence in him."
"He's got a long way to go yet," I answered.
"Yes, but it won't kill him."
We fell into a companionable silence, and I watched Andrew's progress around the Pattern. After a short while, he seemed to slow, and I could see that he was working a lot harder to press forward than he had been initially. I caught my breath again, but soon he speeded up once more and I felt myself relax.
"The First Veil," my Uncle commented, beside me. Andrew carried on walking, and at the same time I carried on worrying, but it as the walk unfolded it became obvious that Brand was right. There were one or two tense moments of course: the other two Veil points, and the last few steps, but eventually Andrew was standing in the centre, tired but unbowed.
"Well, Robert?" said Brand, likely, "are you going to change your mind and follow him?"
I shook my head. "Not today."
"You just need to call when you decide it's time."
I was about to retort that I didn't think it was ever likely to be time, when my son appeared beside us. He looked exhausted, more so than I had ever seen him before, but there was a broad grin on his face.
"That wasn't too hard," he said, jokingly, but it was obvious that he was not exactly being truthful.
"I have to concede it proves the point," I answered, "what is it like?"
"It's hard to explain," he said, after a moment's thought, "but when I work it out, I will tell you."
I smiled, then turned and looked at Brand. "It seems I owe you an apology."
"None necessary," came the reply, "but just remember, I do sometimes know what I am talking about."
He grinned, and I nodded, before looking back at Andrew and reassuring myself that he was okay. However, he caught my eye and smiled. "I knew what I was doing."
"I can see that, now," I answered, "and I hope I am not too petty not to acknowledge when I am wrong. In this case, I am glad I was. The prospect of losing both my sons in a matter of months did not fill me with a great deal of pleasure."
Brand looked at me, curious.
"It's this business with Annabel," I said, by way of explanation, "while I am fairly confident that my lawyers will win, I have learned before about the error of assuming something until it is signed, sealed and delivered."
"Understandable," he said, "listen, we should be leaving...it is getting late, and it would be a shame if the three of us ended up getting pitched into the sea from a great height."
"Do you want to come back to Millbank for anything to eat or drink?" Andrew asked.
"Thank you, no. I have business to attend to. However, when you are recovered, call me Andrew, and I will show you how to use the Pattern you have just walked...you have my Trump, I believe."
"You gave it to me a while back, I seem to recall."
"Good. Well, then. I shall see you two gentlemen anon," he finished, then concentrated for a moment before disappearing into a Trump rainbow.
"Shall I drive?" I offered.
"If you would," came his answer. I put a hand on his shoulder, and then gated us back to the library in Millbank, where I fixed us both a drink.