Murray Palace
February SY115
I was settling down to tidy the desk in my private study in Murray Palace, and look at the current state of play as far as our requests for diplomatic relations were concerned, when I felt the stirrings of a Trump call. I checked the caller, and discovered that it was Sand. It was the first time she'd called since she'd returned to the Amber universe, once the furore of Dad's latest kidnappings had died down.
"What can I do for you, Aunt?" I asked, as I opened the call.
"There is a matter on which I wish to speak with you," she replied, and offered me her hand. I took it and brought her through to join me.
"It's good to see you, my dear," she said, smiling, and kissed me on the cheek.
"And you," I answered, returning her smile, "we'll be more comfortable in the lounge."
"Thank you," she replied, and so I took her through.
"Can I get you a drink?" I asked.
"A glass of red wine, thank you. How's Claire?"
"Well," I replied, as I poured her drink plus a whisky for myself at the same time, "she has one or two new projects to keep her busy at the moment."
"Your new great grandchildren?" she asked, presumably referring to Emma's twins. I guessed she'd noticed more than I had realised during her recent stay with me.
"Among other things," I replied, "please, make yourself comfortable."
"Thank you," she answered, and sat down in my favourite armchair. I choose the one opposite her, took a quick drink from my glass, then put it down on the table.
"What seems to be the problem?" I asked, finally.
"Elsa Schwering," she answered, "does that name ring any bells?"
I thought for a moment, and found myself casting my mind back to the equivalent of the 1920s in Terra Magica's calendar. I had been travelling Shadow a little around that time - which was when I had first met Florimel's son Sebastian - and had stayed a few months on a farm near Genoa, on another Earth Prime parallel world - although this one was further back in it's calendar: seventeenth century or so I recalled. Elsa and her brother Rufus had run that farm: she had been widowed from an earlier marriage to a soldier, and he had been injured in one of the many wars around that time and invalided out of the army. I'd first met them while I was looking for shelter one stormy March night, and when it became apparent that they were only coping so well with the farm, I offered to stay a while to help them out.
I had a happy three months there, made better by the fact that Elsa and I were very intimate, until Brand gave me a call one day and asked me to help him out on a matter. I did so, of course, being a dutiful nephew, and after it was done I returned to the farm. When I did, I discovered that nearly two years had passed, Elsa and Rufus were both dead, and no-one seemed willing to tell me what had happened to them.
I got the distinct impression that their friends - many of whom I had also come to count as my friends during the time I was there - had been frightened into saying nothing. Still, I had persisted and spent a couple of weeks trying to learn anything about the fate of my erstwhile hosts, but had drawn a complete blank. In the end I left that place never to return.
I looked back at Sand, to see that she was studying me intently.
"I can see that it does," she said, "you know, Robert, you should really have been more careful in those days with who you associated with."
"What was wrong with Elsa and Rufus?" I asked, "they were fine, honest, decent people."
"You've answered your own question," she replied, "they really weren't suitable companions for you."
"Why not?"
"Too human," she replied, "any number of members of the family could have used their friendship against you."
"Most of the family didn't know I existed then," I answered, not at all pleased at her line of reasoning.
"More than you might expect did," she replied, "in fact, I happen to know that Corwin had spotted your interest in that place, and while you and he are on reasonable terms, if he could find you, others could. Others with less reason to leave you alone there."
I looked at her, trying to read her expression, but her face was wearing that inscrutable look that I never have been able to see past.
"Did you kill them?" I asked?
"What a preposterous suggestion," she replied, with enough vehemence to sound sincere, "my only part in the matter was to ask Brand to divert your attention - and those with an interest in you - to somewhere else."
I could feel a welling up of anger, but knew there was no point letting it get hold of me. Dad and Sand had always been like that towards me, and still were to some degree, and nothing was going to change it. Instead, I took a deep breath - followed by a large drink - and then replied, keeping my tone level.
"I'm not sure you had the right to do that."
"We've had this discussion before, Robert," she replied, her tone irritatingly matter-of-fact, "I had every right. Your father asked me to watch out for you...protect you from yourself when you needed to be protected."
She was right, of course, and I knew I would never win that argument with her. I looked at her again, and then finally shrugged and had another drink. However, I nearly choked on it when she added, in a tone as meek as humble pie.
"Eight months after you left, she gave birth to a son."
"What?" I exclaimed.
"Close your mouth, dear. It isn't becoming," she replied, and I found myself obeying her, "she had a son. Your son."
I paused before replying.
"And you didn't think I might have had the right to know that before now?" I asked, after a few moments.
"What would you have done if you had? Run off to reclaim him?"
"Something like that."
"Which would have put him at risk on Terra Magica, where those with an interest in you would have known for certain that he meant something to you."
"Not that great a risk?" I answered.
"If that's what you choose to believe," she replied, with a shrug, "given what happened to that child of yours during the First World War," and daintily took a drink from her glass. Her expression was one that challenged me to contradict her, however I decided not to give her the satisfaction.
"Is he still alive?" I asked, finally.
"Of course," she answered, "once you no longer had any interest in the place, we made sure that the time flow was suitably retarded, and that the boy was suitably anonymous, and left him to grow up in blissful ignorance of his heritage, with nothing to indicate to him or to any other member of our family who might have been curious, that there was anything untoward about him."
"Why are you telling me this now?"
"Because he is on the point of leaving university, and it is probably time you went to bring him into the fold."
"Just like that?" I asked.
"Just like that," she replied.
"After leaving me in blissful ignorance as well for all this time?"
She shrugged.
"You know from your own experiences as a child and a young adult that children of Amber blood are naturally different - superior - to those around them. I'm only suggesting this out of my feelings towards you. If you would prefer, I'm sure your father would be happy to guide him from here: show him the universe, give him an education in politics, that sort of thing."
I thought a moment, and decided that for all I cared about him, Dad was very near the bottom of the list of people I would trust to do that.
"That won't be necessary."
She gave a self-satisfied smile. "I thought you'd see it that way."
"How do I find him?" I asked.
"His name is Basile, and he is a student, currently, although he has a strong interest in military matters in his homeland. There is an inn, Le Renard Gris, on the Rue Saint Paul. I believe he visits there most evenings."
"Do you have a description of him?"
She gave me one, and then finished her drink before standing up.
"I can leave this in your capable hands, then," she replied, looking at me.
"If you consider them capable," I replied, standing with her.
"Of course I do, Robert," she answered, slightly snappishly, before continuing in a more conciliatory tone, "you know I'm proud of what you have achieved...just do not blame me for keeping an eye on you. Old habits die hard, and you have been a Creator for far less time than you were the nephew I needed to protect. I also know that you try to do your best for your children...or at least, the majority of them."
I decided to take it that she was counting those with Thulist tendencies as the exceptions.
"I will try to visit him in the next couple of days."
"I think that would be wise," she replied, "my love to Claire."
"Of course."
"Goodbye, Robert dear," she said, embracing me and giving me another peck on the cheek.
"And you, Aunt," I answered. Then as she was getting out her Trump deck I finally asked "what happened to Elsa and Rufus?"
"Elsa died giving birth to Basile," she replied, "her brother never did get over her death, and was killed in a riding accident about three months later. In both cases, it appears to have been tragically natural. Mortals are so fragile."
With that, she pulled a Trump out of her own deck, concentrated on it and disappeared. I had a fancy it was Dad's card. After the Trump rainbow had diminished, I walked back over to where I had put down my glass and downed the remaining contents. Then I settled down to try to remind myself of the route to Elsa's home Shadow.