Intimations of Immortality
Millbank Manor, March 2005 / Chicago, Illinois, 1995
Michael beat me to the phone by a matter of seconds.
"This is Millbank 4774," he said in his best formal voice, his young face serious, "may I help you?"
He paused for a moment, then I saw him grin and he looked at me, holding the receiver towards me with his right hand. "Robert, it's William."
I took the phone from him, but noticed that he only stepped away a short distance, obviously waiting to find out what his nephew - even if he didn't know William as that - had to say. Once my son had got over the jealousy of another child at Millbank, he had stepped almost into the role of protector for Michael, and the pair of them were surprisingly close. My brother had taken it quite hard when William had finally gone up to Kings, to maintain the family tradition of studying magic, the previous September.
"Hi, William," I said as I put the receiver to my ear.
"Hi, Dad," came the reply, "I was wondering, are you busy this weekend?"
"Not especially, why?"
"I was hoping to come home Friday night and stay up until Sunday - or Monday if you don't mind getting us back to Cambridge. There's someone I want you to meet."
"I don't see a problem with that. I'll let the Jacksons know you'll be here," I replied, "who's your guest?"
"Her name's Sarah."
"The medic?" I asked, trying to remember the name of the last girlfriend he had mentioned, way back before Christmas.
"No, I finished with her ages ago," came the reply, half annoyed, half amused, "don't you remember me telling you?"
"Sorry, I must have forgotten," I replied, pretty certain he had never told me anything of the sort, "so who's Sarah?"
"She works in the Registry. We've been seeing each other for about three months."
"It must be serious," I replied, half jokingly, "you haven't brought anyone home for me to meet since that girl you were going out with when you were doing your 'A' levels."
"Yeah," he muttered, non-committally, "well this is a bit different."
"Meaning what?" I asked, curious.
"I'll tell you at the weekend," came his less than helpful reply. There didn't seem to be any point trying to press him on the subject - there never is with William if he doesn't want to tell you - so I let the comment ride, but my interest in his lady friend had gone up considerably.
"Okay. I'll look forward to seeing you both. Which train are you going to be on?"
"The nine-forty five into Gloucester from Paddington."
"I'll be there to meet it," I promised, "take care and see you then."
"You too, Dad," came the answer and with that he hung up.
"Well?" asked Michael, eagerly.
"He's coming home for the weekend," I replied. Michael's smile turned into a large grin and he crossed to me and hugged me.
"I've missed him," he said, finally, as he let me go.
"I know you have," I answered, "so have I. Now you should be getting over to the farm. Aren't you supposed to be having a riding lesson with Mr. Cross?"
His face fell as he remembered, and he looked a little sheepish. Without saying another word he crossed to the cloakroom and grabbed his riding hat and boots, before sprinting out of the door and down the path towards Millbank Farm. I watched him go, and then went to the kitchen to inform my butler and the cook that there would be visitors at the weekend.
As promised, I met my son personally on Friday evening. The night was dry and moonlit, if cold, and I was curious about the lady William was being so mysterious about. Anyway, I enjoy driving a carriage on occasion. It makes a change from getting everywhere by teleport.
William's train was late, of course. It is quite a way from Cambridge to Gloucester, and they had met some delay when they changed in London. As a result it was close to ten-thirty when their train finally pulled in. After a wait of a couple of minutes, I saw my son descend from one of the First Class carriages. Then he offered his hand to his companion and helped her down, and they headed towards me. As I got a good look at her, I could see that my son had had excellent taste for once. His companion was shorter than he was, only about five feet four to his six two, and I'd guess a few years older, but she had a pretty face with bright blue eyes, framed with short brown hair.
"Dad, this is Sarah Marston," he said as he reached me, "Sarah, my father Robert de Lacy."
"Pleased to meet you," I said, extending my hand towards her. She took it with some trepidation, as if unsure how to react, and then released it.
"Likewise," she replied, "William has told me quite a lot about you, although I have to admit that you aren't quite what I expected."
"Oh?" I asked, curious, as I led them back to the waiting carriage. The horses were stamping slightly, trying to keep warm, and I was keen to get home. "What did you think I would be like?"
"Older," she replied, smiling, "William says that you sit in the House of Lords." Her tone gave me the impression that she wasn't quite sure whether she believed him, though.
"That doesn't necessarily mean I have to be old," I answered, "come on, we should be getting home."
They climbed into the carriage, while I got back into the driver's seat. "It'll take about half an hour to get home. Are you two warm enough back there?"
"Fine thanks," called William, whereupon I flicked the reins and set off towards Millbank. In the end it took just over the half hour, and by the time we arrived the pair of them were asleep in the back. I woke them gently, and then Jackson helped William get what little luggage they had inside.
"Do you want anything to eat, sir...miss?" the butler asked once their things had been stowed upstairs.
"Just something light," replied William. He looked tired, and Sarah appeared to be virtually dead on her feet.
"I'll see to it," came the reply, and Jackson headed off towards the kitchen. The three of us adjourned to the library to wait, but neither of them really seemed up to polite conversation. I could see Sarah looking around the place with curiosity, though, almost as if she was surprised that it existed, but before I could mention it Jackson appeared.
"Your supper is ready, sir. In the dining room."
"Thanks," William replied, smiling. He stood up, helped Sarah to her feet and escorted her down the corridor. I decided to curb my curiosity a little longer, so as not to appear too much of the ogrish father, and let them go.
William joined me in the library about an hour later, looking somewhat refreshed, and considerably more awake.
"Sarah's gone to bed already," he explained as he poured himself a cognac and settled down opposite me, in front of the fire, "she was tired from the trip
"I get the impression that she's a bit lost here," I commented.
"A little maybe. I couldn't quite convince her that I was really who I said I was. She says that she can't see why one of the nobility would be interested in her."
"Because she's a very attractive woman," I offered, "and knowing you I would imagine intelligent as well."
"I've tried that argument. It doesn't work."
"Pity. Maybe she'll be a little more convinced by the end of the weekend."
"I hope so," he replied, "because we're going to get married."
I avoided choking on my Scotch. Just. "You're what?" I managed to croak.
"We're going to get married," he repeated, immediately going onto the defensive, "is this a problem? Or are you going to pull class on me? Noble/commoner and all that crap."
"No, I wouldn't do that. I never have with Andrew, and I don't intend to start with you. You've just taken me by surprise, that's all."
"Why?"
"For a start, you're only nineteen. This is a big decision for someone as young as you, and there are other factors that need to be taken into account," I replied, "damn, I should have tried to explain this to you earlier."
"Explain what?" he asked, still on the defensive, "the birds and the bees? It's a bit late for that, Dad. She's pregnant."
"Oh brother."
I tossed back the Scotch, then crossed to the drinks table and poured myself a replacement.
"What's the big deal?" he asked, his voice rising, "you can't have been much older than I am when Andrew was born, and I can't believe the problem's the fact that Sarah and I have been sleeping together. Hell, you and Mum didn't exactly have a marriage licence. At least I'm making an honest woman of Sarah."
I stopped dead as his last shot hit home, trying to control a burst of almost murderous fury. He'd mentioned that before, but never so blatantly and never so vehemently.
"It wasn't like that," I said finally, through gritted teeth, as I turned back to face him. Twelve years on and the memory of her could still get that strong a reaction out of me.
"No? Well why didn't you ever marry her?" he asked, a belligerent look on his face. His attitude reminded me of the times when he was a child that wouldn't accept that he was wrong.
"It wouldn't have worked for a number of reasons," I answered, trying to take several deep breaths to calm myself.
"So you argued a lot. Big deal," he pushed.
"Back off, William, before I say something I'll regret."
Our eyes met, and I assume he saw the furious expression in mine as he quickly looked away and I saw him loosen up slightly.
"I'm sorry, Dad," he said, finally, "I was out of line."
"I really should have tried to explain this before," I replied, mentally kicking myself that I had waiting so long.
"Explain what?"
"Explain why marrying Sarah might be an extraordinarily bad idea," I answered. A flash of hostility crossed his face once more, and I knew I had to tread carefully. After all, I remembered how difficult it had been for me to listen to both my father and Sand when they had each given me the same talk after I had announced that I wanted to marry Elizabeth.
"This is going to be difficult, and might not make a lot of sense. Now, where's the best place to start?" I paused for a moment, and then a possible line of attack occurred to me. "Okay. How old do you think I am?"
"Hard to say. I know you're older than you look, and so is Andrew. After all, you've been the Duke for thirty-five years or something, so I guess you must be at least in your early sixties."
"You're underestimating by a multiple of at least five," I said, quietly.
"Three hundred years old?" he asked, incredulous, "don't be ridiculous. That isn't possible."
"Oh, but it is. Tell me, how much have you studied the family portraits in this place?"
"Pretty well. I've grown up with them."
"And you've never noticed how similar my namesakes as Duke have looked to me, and likewise Andrew's to him?"
"Yeah, but that's just a family resemblance, right?"
"Perhaps you should look again some time."
"If you insist, but I really don't see how it's even remotely relevant. People can't live for three hundred years. It's as simple as that."
"Normal people cannot, you're correct. Even with magic there comes a point when the body gives up. Likewise I am now pretty convinced that the much vaunted alchemical Elixir of Life is a myth."
"So there you go," he said, shrugging, "end of conversation."
"No. Not end of conversation. Start of conversation. What do you know of Andrew's mother?"
"Neither of you have ever told me a lot. She died giving birth to him."
"When?"
"Hell, I don't know. You've never said."
"And you've never wondered why?" I asked, trying to push for a reaction.
"It was long before I was born. Back in the sixties or seventies I guess."
"Damn. I'm not doing this very well. I've only needed to once before, and it was a long time ago. The trouble is, you'll probably think I'm stark staring mad if I tell you. However..." I took a deep breath, then continued, "I was born here at Millbank on June 17th in the Year of Our Lord Seventeen Hundred. Andrew was born in the October of 1723."
"That's nuts," he declared, firmly.
"Look at the family records."
"I have on occasion. Sure, one of our ancestors was born then, but he and his descendants are buried side by side in the family vault. I know. I've been there."
"Every tomb from Duke William, who died in 1740, onwards is empty. Except for some mouldering earth and sacks of stones."
He looked at me, obviously trying to work out if I was serious, before speaking again. "How much of that have you had tonight?" he asked, indicating my half full tumbler of Scotch.
"Considerably less than I suspect you think I have," I replied, "dammit, do you think this is easy for me, either?"
"I grew out of fairy stories ten years ago," came his answer, in a voice that was definitely short on patience.
"Fine. I can understand why you think I'm making this up, and I guess I don't really blame you for not believing a word of it. The question is, how do I prove that I'm telling the truth?"
"Dad, I can't even work out why you're telling me this. I thought you'd be pleased to find out about Sarah. I didn't expect it to send you off the deep end. Perhaps I should have followed her advice and kept you in the dark at least until after the wedding."
I looked at him, upset that they had even discussed such a course of action. I had thought I was closer to my younger son than that.
"That would have been worse," I said, finally.
"That's why I didn't, Dad. I knew it would hurt you and I didn't want to do that...even if you have gone crazy."
"I haven't gone crazy. I just can't think of a good way of proving what I'm saying, short of taking you to the vault and showing you the empty coffins."
He looked at me for a moment, incredulous, before replying. "My God, you really are serious, aren't you?"
"Yes."
"Okay, assuming for a moment I believe you - and I am not saying I am, but I'll listen - tell me how it's possible for you to be three hundred years old."
"My parents. Neither of them are what you would call normal people. One is a Prince of Amber and the other is a Lady of Chaos."
"Big titles which mean what, exactly?"
"Which means they're immortal, and so am I, and so are you...and Andrew, and Michael."
"No-one is immortal."
"You're wrong. Amber and Chaos are effectively two poles of the universe. They are both ruled by families with some connection to each other, and both house powers which enable their wielders to shape the universe around them. The members of both those families are immortal - almost gods as your great aunt is wont to say."
"This really doesn't sound very likely."
"No, it doesn't, but it's true."
"Prove it."
"It seems that the immortality part will take a lot of proving to you. However, I can give you some taste of the other. It's a pity Andrew isn't here, he's better at this than I am, but here goes."
With that I stood up, put down my glass and concentrated for a moment. I could feel the Shadow slowing down so that the time was more akin to that in Amber, and I manipulated the barrier enough so that I would be able to walk out. I had every intention of teleporting back, so that the other barriers could remain intact - just in case brother Karl or Dad tried to put in an appearance in my absence.
"What are you doing?" William asked as he watched me. I could tell that he had brought up a spell to try and study what I was up to (an analysis spell is one of the first ones they teach at Kings, as it enables pupils to follow the later lessons in more detail than they might otherwise), but I also knew that he wouldn't get anywhere.
"Playing God," I replied, smiling, "come on."
Shadow Earth seemed to be the best bet, as it was a place I was familiar with, and it would not take long to reach. I didn't want to be away from home for too long, just in case. Bringing Chicago to mind as a destination, I started manipulating the stuff of Shadow in my admittedly inexpert fashion, and started walking. I could detect William beside me, following in silence as the landscape changed around us. By the time we reached Lake Michigan I felt damned tired, and in need of a drink, so I made for the bar Jack had shown me after the Devlin funeral.
"Where the Hell are we?" asked William, finally, "the voices sound American, but I don't recognise anything. For a start, what in damnation are those?"
He was pointing at a car and I couldn't resist smiling.
"The technology here is a bit more advanced than back home," I said as we entered the bar, "it's their usual means of transport."
"Pity they don't have any decent air," he muttered as I ordered two beers and we headed for a corner table, "okay, I'm impressed. What did you slip in the cognac?"
"Nothing," I replied, "if you try to cast anything here you'll realise the feel of the place is different, and maybe then you'll believe at least part of my fairy tale."
I saw him concentrate for a moment as he felt for the magic inherent on Shadow Earth, which I knew from experience was different and slightly harder to access than that back home. While he experimented, I took the liberty of putting up a spell of my own around us, which would prevent unwanted listeners from overhearing our conversation either in person or magically. Then I noticed that my son was looking back at me.
"So what else was true?" he asked, in a tone that suggested he was now willing to listen to the answer.
"All of it."
"Then why have you waited until now to tell me?"
"I would probably have waited longer, if you hadn't told me about Sarah."
"I still don't understand why it's a big deal. When she told me that she was pregnant I didn't see any option but to offer to marry her. Anyway, I thought you'd prefer that to another bastard in the de Lacy line."
"You aren't a bastard, William. You were legitimised the day you were Christened."
"I wasn't thinking of me. I was thinking of our much vaunted ancestors. The Duchy has passed through a lot of offshoots over the last two hundred and fifty years."
"The Duchy has passed from me to Andrew and back, over and over again. We just had to get reborn somehow and country cousins and occasional bastards seemed to be the easiest way of doing it. I'd probably better die again in the next twenty years or so, or people will get suspicious."
"What do you mean 'die again'?" he asked, and he actually looked concerned.
"Add another empty tomb to the de Lacy vault. For the record, by the way, my current birth certificate has me born in France in 1935, which makes me officially seventy. I guess once Avon is up and running I can take over there full time while Andrew holds the Duchy."
"Avon?"
"Long story, to do with my Amber relatives. I'll tell you about it some time."
"Okay, fine. This still doesn't explain why you decided to have this conversation now."
"Actually, in a way it does. What do you think of when you hear the word immortality?"
"Living forever."
"Yes, but what else?"
"I don't know what you mean."
"Think. To live forever... now apply that to somewhere like Terra Magica where you are old at ninety, and even the best mages are doing well to reach one-hundred and twenty years old."
"So?"
"Imagine yourself in even fifty years."
"Much the same as I am now, if I actually pass this course. At least to look at."
"And imagine Sarah."
"So I use the spells on her, too. Big deal."
"And all your friends, and all your acquaintances? Believe me, it is very hard to watch people you know and love grow old and die around you, knowing that you are virtually unchanged."
He didn't answer for a moment, but I could see him finally considering what I had said.
"And in a hundred years?" he asked, quietly.
"You will still look pretty much as you do today, or maybe a little older - say in your early twenties - and Sarah will probably have died of old age and been in her grave for ten years. I'm sorry, William, there isn't a kinder way of putting it. I'm just trying to warn you so that you know what to expect."
"And our child?"
"With any luck he, or she, will inherit your longevity, so at least you won't be deprived of something to remind you of Sarah. That is how it seems to have worked with me and Andrew, anyway."
"Is this why you and Mum split up?" he asked after another pause.
"It was part of it, although we were arguing so much anyway that it wasn't worth trying to stay together. It didn't help that she was terrified of getting old, while I was resolutely refusing to do so."
"What happened to her? She just seemed to disappear."
"Oh she's fine. She's living somewhere on this Shadow, I believe. Last I heard she had just married my brother Karl. While the years have been passing for you and me back home, for her it is a matter of weeks, or maybe as little as days, since she last saw me."
"I didn't know you had a brother," he commented, surprised.
"I have several, but I only discovered about all of them recently," I replied.
"Care to elaborate?"
"There are at least three, maybe four or five on my mother's side. Karl and one other are on my father's. In case you're interested, Karl is about a hundred years younger than me," I replied. Trying to explain Jason and the others would probably be too much just at that moment. "Unfortunately, it is the curse of the family of Amber to try and kill one another, and Karl and I are no exception. We were enemies long before we discovered we were brothers. We were on somewhat opposite sides during the Second World War."
"And the other?"
"Michael."
That made it his turn to choke on his drink. "Excuse me?" he finally croaked.
"Michael is my brother - my father's son."
"You mean the kid's my uncle?"
"In a word."
"Oh boy."
"I said my family were unusual."
"You weren't bloody kidding, were you?"
"William, I never, ever, joke about family."
He fell quiet for a moment, downing another sip of his beer before changing the subject. "Can I see Mum while I'm here?"
"I don't think that would be very wise. She isn't going to be too happy with me when she finds out what I've done - even if my intention was to protect Michael, rather than have you grow up without her."
"She isn't too happy with you anyway, from what little I remember of the last time I saw her," he said, half smiling for the first time since we had arrived in the bar.
"Yes, well, last time we spoke she was talking about a custody fight over you."
"She's going to get one Hell of a shock when she sees me, isn't she?" he said, reaching a full smile.
"Boy is she," I replied, grinning in return. Then I saw his face turn more serious again.
"Are you going to force me to give Sarah up?" he asked, quietly.
"No, I wouldn't do that, even if it might be the best advice I could give you. I just wanted you to know what you were in for if you decided to stick the course." I paused for a moment, then continued. "Anyway, the more I think about it, the more the idea of being a grandfather is beginning to appeal," I added, realising for the first time as I said it that it was true. "Come on, drink up, we should be heading home."
We downed our respective beers, and then I pulled down the anti-eavesdropping spell. With that I threw some coins onto the table, and we headed out into the warm Chicago night.