Sable Palace/The Wewelsburg/Elsewhere
May SY154
I have to say that short of the time I was fighting for my life having been machine-gunned by my cousin, the beginning of May 154 was one of the worst times I'd lived through in many a year. Obviously, it started with brother Rupert trying to die on the floor of Sable infirmary, but even once he was back in the Reich, where he belonged, things didn't get any better.
The problem was trying to help Claire, whose inner nature was warring against her Aspect as Aurellian Goddess of Healing and, I suspect, her own conscience, as far as Rupert was concerned. I'd had a taster of the state she was in in the infirmary, when Andrew had first delivered my brother to me, after he had attacked Prime with a borrowed Death Curse. She was deeply conflicted, unsure of what to do, and more upset than I could ever remember her being. My heart went out to her, wishing that there was something I could do, and for the first time since he'd Created, I mentally cursed Roland for the fact that he had set the Aurellian Logrus up such that its initiates...the gods of its Pantheon...were actually slaves to their Aspects.
I'd seen something similar a few months before, when Rupert himself had been compelled as God of Protection to help his one of his priests defend Sable's Riversend Naval Base: an act of treason in the eyes of the Reich. Claire's Aspect as Goddess of Healing, meant that the Aurellian Logrus was determined that she should heal the wounded member of its Pantheon. The trouble was that despite the fact that she is an experienced and dedicated physician, and takes the Hippocratic Oath as seriously as I do, as far as Rupert Delatz is concerned, she would rather burn her own eyes out with a red-hot poker than lift a finger to help him. It was tearing her apart.
I've never understood why her reaction to my brother is so strong. To my knowledge, he's never done anything to hurt her directly, albeit he's occasionally harmed me, but whenever I ask, she merely falls back on the old standards that he's my Dark Side, as well as being a black magician, and that he should never be trusted. All of which are valid arguments to a point, but they don't fully explain the almost pathological hatred she has of him. I've very occasionally seen impressions down the link we share that she feels that when I manifested him, I lost part of myself to him, and she resents that, and that she also resents that he also has something of a mental link with me, albeit nothing as strong as the one I share with her. However, beyond that, whenever I've tried to learn more, she's locked me out of the part of her mind where her feelings towards him reside. It's one of very few secrets she does keep from me.
In the end, that night in the infirmary, I'd had to ask Roland to take her away and keep her safe in slow time, to try to ease her suffering, before dealing with stabilising Rupert and getting him safely back to his own people. I had truly hoped that doing so would take some of the burden from her, but when I went to find them a few hours later, there wasn't any improvement in her condition. She was still a nervous wreck and I was seriously concerned that she might end up having a full breakdown, and all of it because the Aurellian Logrus was driving her to act against her will. So needless to say, I was worried sick about both her and about the baby, and tried to figure out if there was any solution to ease her suffering, short of her succumbing to its commands and visiting my brother.
I was completely at a loss, and furious with Roland with it because of what he'd built. While I could understand his reasoning - that he didn't want his kith and kin just walking the Logrus and then freeloading on life, and so he tried to give them a sense of responsibility - having it torture them because they didn't play ball seemed above and beyond what had been intended. No wonder several of them had chosen not to initiate to it, rather than have that burden placed upon them.
I took her home, and with her agreement, made sure she was sedated (magically, not chemically), so she could get some rest, but I knew damned well that keeping her unconscious wasn't a long-term solution. And indeed, as the 2nd wore on and I kept an eye on her, the Logrus carried on working on her dreams. She was restless and kept crying out in her sleep, and I could feel some of her conflict down the link we share, despite the fact that she wasn't conscious. I did my best to send soothing thoughts to her, but while they had some effect, they didn't relieve her burden altogether.
I tried talking to Roland again, but with the same response I'd had earlier in the infirmary. There was nothing he could do to stop it pressurising her, because she was supposed to Heal and there was a patient she was refusing to help. All he could think of was that he might be able to take her Aspect on herself and go and deal with Rupert, but the problem was he has about as much medical training as a teacake, and wouldn't know what to do if he did try to help my brother. Suffice to say, it wasn't one of our more equitable conversations.
I came to the conclusion that I only had a couple of practical options. First, to go with her into slow time, and try to keep her as calm and comfortable as I could, until Rupert had healed sufficiently that the Logrus let up its assault on her. And second, to try to persuade her to help him, so that the Logrus could see that she'd tried, and would hopefully leave her in peace.
Of course, the flaw with the first option, was that it relied on Rupert actually getting better of his own accord. I was reasonably confident that advice I'd given Gerlinde and Schultz when I'd handed him over - to make sure his shifting was reactivated, and to get him near the Black Pattern, where it could heal him through the Creator-Creation bond - should at least help things along. The problem would come if the fact that there was an esoteric element to what he had done to himself meant that mere physical healing wasn't enough.
The trouble was, I had a nagging suspicion that that might be the case. Over the last few months he'd been stretching himself and his abilities further and further, venturing into areas of channelling which I'm not even sure my grandson Joss, the nominal Aurellian God of Channelling, could have safely tackled. Especially when he had redrawn the Broken Pattern on Manira in January, which by his own confession had hurt like Hell. When we'd met on 1st February, and he'd had some choice words to say on the subject of my attitude towards him and what he'd done at my request - which looking back were probably justified - it was after he'd spent some years in fast time, bringing up his children. Or so he'd said. However, in the light of what had happened on Beltane, I now found myself wondering if he'd overreached himself then, too, and decided to spend some time away to recover in peace.
And now he'd done something which messed around even more fundamentally with the nature of the universe, and specifically that which makes us what we are. So it was very possible that he'd finally stretched himself too far and was paying the price. Whether he'd been doing it to test his own limits, or to try to prove a point to me that he had his own way of doing things, I wasn't sure, but it left me in the uncomfortable position of realising that perhaps I should have stepped in to either help him or stop him before it got this far.
Moreover, as Channelling wasn't Rupert's specific Aspect, and as despite everything else, he was undeniably a practising black magician with it, which would have got him cursed the Aurellis side of the Technocracy Band, was it possible that right now, the Aurellian Logrus was teaching him a lesson? I wouldn't have thought that a Logrus could have that much effect on a Pattern Creator, even a Pattern-based Dark Side, especially in his own place of Power. But if there was some kind of conflict going on, then maybe the Aurellian Logrus was trying to prove a point to both of us that it shouldn't be ignored, and torturing my wife was a side-effect of what it was doing.
Eventually, I decided on option one. To take Claire away to slow time, with the intention of checking in with Schultz about a fortnight later, Sable time, to see if there was any improvement in my brother's condition. I estimated that a fortnight ought to be enough of a timeframe to tell us if he was going to heal of his own accord, or whether more drastic methods were going to be needed. After all, when I'd been shot, it had taken me a little over ten days to regain consciousness, and after his encounter with Andrew the previous year, he'd come round in less than a week, albeit that he was then under medical supervision for about a fortnight afterwards.
I had Jack Howarth, my private secretary, clear our diaries, and see if he could arrange for alternative members of the Family to perform our duties for a fortnight: after all, there are some of them who don't have official positions within the Kingdom and therefore do the Royal engagements thing. I also called Andrew, and asked if he would return home for the period I was away, to stand as Regent while both Claire and I were gone. He was a little reluctant, especially given the possibilities of mayhem in the Technocracy if Andreas was wounded and striking out, but he eventually agreed. After all, if anything did happen back home, then either Niamh or the Nexus itself would let him know immediately.
Once everything was organised, I took my wife to a world we'd spent on time before, where I had a property which was similar to Milbank, complete with countryside, fields, etc, where hopefully she could get some rest and quiet. I dialled the speed down to one to fourteen or thereabouts versus Sable, and settled down to try to help her through what, for us, was going to be a very difficult day. I spent most of the time with her, there if she needed anything, even if it was just a shoulder to cry on, drawing on the link between us and trying to keep her calm and attempting to protect her from the pressure from the Logrus. The baby, at least, was isolated from her pain: she is a good enough shapeshifter that even in that state, she could arrange for him to be protected from harm.
A couple of times I tried calling Rupert, just in case, but while his Trump wasn't actually warm, it didn't feel reliable, and I never successfully made a contact, even with his unconscious mind. It was as if whoever was at the other end of the Trump was subtly changed from the Rupert who had been there before. Unfortunately, that seemed to support the theory that he wasn't going to be able to heal himself, and that Claire was going to have to visit him before she was driven insane. Either that, or I was going to have to tackle Roland again.
That night, I cast a sedative spell which helped some, but her mind was still in turmoil and she slept fitfully at best. I stayed with her, in case she needed me, but took the opportunity to sit the other end of the room and paint a full Trump of Schultz, as I knew that there was little chance that I wasn't going to need it. I eventually turned in myself for a couple of hours at about 5am.
I awoke around seven and grabbed a quick shower, but when I checked her afterwards, her situation hadn't really changed. Once the sedative wore off, she woke up, but her eyes were red and she was trying to hold back tears.
"I can't stand this," she said, quietly, "I'm going to have to see him, aren't I?"
"I'm not sure there's any other way," I replied, holding her tightly, and she burst into tears. She sobbed for about fifteen minutes, but as the crying subsided, she felt calmer.
"Then we'd better get it over with," she said, looking at me, a new determination in her eyes.
"Do you want to eat anything first? This isn't going to be easy?"
"I just want to get it done," she answered, "give me a few minutes, and then I'll meet you downstairs."
"Okay."
I dressed quickly, then went downstairs and grabbed some toast and coffee, and about twenty minutes later she joined me. She had modified her appearance somewhat - her hair was lighter, and her features and eyes were rather different - but she felt more like her usual self, now she'd bowed to the inevitable.
"I didn't think it would be particularly appropriate if the Queen of Sable was seen in the Reich," she commented.
"Probably not," I answered, "although the chances are we won't exactly be in a public place."
"He's at the Wewelsburg, isn't he?"
"That's where I told them to take him."
"I'd feel better if we could see him in the Temple of Healing, in Eboracum. It would at least be more appropriate."
"I agree..."
"But..."
"But I don't see that there's a chance in Hell that his people will be willing to let him be moved from his current location."
"Unfortunately, you're probably right."
"Will you be alright?"
"No, but it doesn't sound as if I have much of a choice. Let's do this."
I hugged her, and kissed her warmly, before stepping away, and then I brought the Trump of Schultz to mind. There was a delay before he answered, but eventually he opened the link. He looked tired and worried.
"Your Majesty?" he said in some surprise.
"Standartenführer Schultz. Would you mind bringing us through?"
"Us?"
"We want to help."
He considered for a moment and then extended his hand. I passed Claire through to him, following immediately afterwards so she wouldn't be there alone for any length of time. I knew instantly I arrived that we were, indeed, in the Wewelsburg, and put a protective hand on Claire's shoulder. She was trembling slightly. We found ourselves in what looked like a lounge-office area. It was well appointed, with solid leather-upholstered wooden furniture and a bookcase on one wall. To one side was a heavy oak desk which was stacked with papers, a large pot of coffee on an occasional table beside it, and in front of the large stone fireplace were a pair of comfortable looking chairs and a sofa. A well-painted rural landscape hung over the fireplace. Hung on the open door, which looked to lead out into the corridor, was a painted shield bearing a coat of arms of a dragon or rampant looking to the sinister, quartered with the SS lightning runes, all on a sable field. I guessed they were Schultz's arms as a Knight of the SS.
The young man gave a slight bow to Claire, and then cast an eye over us.
"You, I recognise, Oberstgruppenführer von Worcester," he said, and I felt Claire flinch at the title, "but I do not know you, my lady."
"I represent the Aurellian Goddess of Healing," Claire replied, "you can call me Althaia."
"I will vouch for her," I said to him, quietly, "she brings a different outlook on how to treat him, which may be helpful."
He paused for a moment, then nodded his assent.
"How's he doing?"
"Better than when you last saw him, sir, but he's still unconscious."
"What date is it?"
"May 15th. When else would it be?"
"I've been out of town," I replied, "does Dominik Gerlinde have an assessment?"
"It is his opinion that there is no physical reason why the RFSS shouldn't have regained consciousness, so he is...concerned."
I noticed a certain tension as he talked about Gerlinde, and I saw his right hand move to the small of his back involuntarily and a slight grimace of remembered pain.
"Are you alright?"
"It's nothing, sir," he answered, with a shrug, as he realised what he had done, and he consciously tried to relax, "it's in the past."
But obviously whatever it was, was far from in the past.
"Would you be willing to let us see him?" I asked.
"Of course...although you'll understand that I'll need to inform his attending physician that you're here."
"Of course," I answered, with a sigh. I didn't particularly want Gerlinde anywhere near Claire, but we were the visitors, and as Rupert was his patient, protocol would dictate that he had the right to be there if he wished.
"This way..."
He led us out into the corridor and to the next doorway, where another of the Honour Guard was posted. Rupert's coat of arms was hung on the door. As I glanced up and down the corridor, I saw at least two others holding a perimeter, making sure no-one tried to get into the area without authorisation. Which worked fine, unless like ourselves, people Trumped in. But to give him his due Schultz was obviously not taking any chances.
He exchanged a few words with his subordinate - a young man I didn't recall having seen before, whose name badge identified him as Harman - and we were let inside. The outer room was very similar in arrangement and furnishing to Schultz's, if slightly grander, although instead of one door off it, I saw two. Positioned close to one of these was a woman I recognised as Torres. Schultz conferred with her, as well, and we went through into the bedroom. The door was guarded from the inside by Stuckart, and I could also feel powerful Church of Protection wards around the room and identified Jorge von Klieburg's handiwork.
Rupert was lying in the king-sized bed slightly offset to one side of the room, a couple of monitors blinking quietly beside him. I looked at the readouts: heart rate slow but steady, breathing slow, temperature roughly normal, blood pressure on the low side but not dangerously so. Then I looked at my brother. His colour was good - significantly better than when I'd last seen him, although he'd obviously lost some weight - and he seemed to be in decent health. Apart from the fact that he was obviously still in a coma.
A short while later, I heard the door open and Gerlinde, himself, came in. He was wearing a white coat and actually had an air of professionalism about him.
"Morning, Obergruppenführer Gerlinde," I said, pleasantly.
"Afternoon, Herr Herzog," he replied, rather less pleasantly, "why are you here?
"We wanted to see if there was anything we could do to help," I replied, "this is my associate, Althaia. She's another healer...a very good one."
"I didn't request your assistance, Robert of Sable."
"No, you didn't," I answered, "but now we're here, will you consider accepting it?"
He looked at me for a moment, obviously arguing with himself on whether to grant permission or not.
"I will," he said, finally, albeit with little enthusiasm.
"Then perhaps you could start by bringing us up to speed?"
"There's only so much to say," he replied, "we undertook the procedure you suggested, and it has made a significant difference to his physical wellbeing..." This seemed to be spoken through gritted teeth. "...but his mental state is unchanged. He remains unconscious and thus far I've been unable to bring him round."
"That may be where I can help out...it's my area of speciality. There's also the fact that there may be less obvious indicators of his condition which I might be able to pick up which you couldn't."
"Meaning?"
"He's my brother. It's possible I have a better understanding of some of the more exotic aspects of his physiology than you do."
"And your companion?"
"Has agreed to work together with me on this. Have you had a magical healer look at him?"
"Of course. Fraulein Doktor Steinbrueck has been helping me. But she, like myself, is at a loss how to proceed at this point. There is no reason either of us can see why he isn't up and about, and yet..."
"Why don't we see what we find out?"
He paused a moment, then nodded.
I glanced at Claire and she came over to join me beside my brother, and we set about seeing if we could figure out what was wrong. Now she was here, my wife seemed better...nervous as Hell, given the location, but better...and was able to focus on what she was doing. If nothing else, the visit was worth it for that. It was a long time since we'd worked as a team, but we clicked back into the way of it very easily, communicating largely mentally, rather than physically, although when it was required to tell Gerlinde what we were doing, we obviously did so. Better that than have him stab us in the back for thinking we were keeping him in the dark.
She worked on Rupert from the point of view of her Aspect - there are certain things the Goddess of Healing can do which don't make a lot of sense to me, as logically they shouldn't work. I, however, considered the problem from a more orthodox perspective, bringing all my arcane abilities to bear, both magic and the Pattern, plus my abilities as a Creator. As I worked, I came to the conclusion that there were two separate factors at work.
First and foremost, despite his calm exterior and the fact that he wasn't moving, I could feel the Aurellian Logrus warring with the Black Pattern within him. The Black Pattern was holding it at bay, and I could also detect a direct link with the design in the basement of the castle, which was nurturing and supporting him, but the Logrus was persistent, trying to make its presence felt. Beneath that, I could also feel something else. Something working primarily on his mind. Again, it seemed to be linked to the design in the basement.
I told Claire - and Gerlinde - about the Logrus effect, and she started working to take that out of the equation. That left me free to concentrate on his mind. To do so, however, I was going to have to form a mental link with him, to see if I could work out what it was doing. I didn't much like the idea of having to put myself into a trance in the Wewelsburg, with at least two of the Black Knights in the room with me, because I would be unable to protect either myself or Claire if they decided to get stroppy. Especially Gerlinde.
The question was, how far could I trust them?
I was considering this, when I noticed Schultz slip out of the door, leaving Claire and I alone with Gerlinde and Stuckart. I stood, moving into a position between them and Claire, and waited, but neither of them did anything untoward. Gerlinde even seemed more comfortable that we were there. Then, a couple of minutes later, Schultz returned with Klieburg in tow. I wasn't particularly impressed to see that Andrew's grandson was wearing the day to day uniform of an Oberstgruppenführer in the SS.
"Good afternoon, Grandfather," he said, politely, although I could tell that he was a little uncomfortable. But then, short of Andrew himself, and Dominik Gerlinde, I was probably the last person he wanted to see just then. Especially dressed like that. He was supposed to be retired: that was one of the major conditions by which he and Elanor had been allowed to marry.
"Jorge."
"Standartenführer Schultz suggested that I might be of assistance to you."
"In what regard?"
"I'm a Priest of Protection."
"You're also a high-ranking SS officer again, it would seem."
"Regimental protocol dictates that officers should be in uniform around the Wewelsburg," he replied smoothly, which while I didn't like it, sadly made sense.
"Even Honorary ones?"
"I was reactivated by Oberstgruppenführer Heydrich for a specific mission. To whit, offering arcane protection to the RFSS during his illness. That would seem to extend to anyone assisting the RFSS."
I looked at him, and then at Schultz.
"You obviously have something in mind," I commented.
"Your Majesty," he replied, "you indicated that you may need to go into a trance, and I have some understanding of what that means. So I felt that perhaps you would feel more comfortable if your granddaughter's husband were here to...well, to be blunt...to watch your back. I couldn't think of anyone else in the castle who you would trust to do that."
Gerlinde looked less than impressed, although his dissatisfaction currently seemed to be equally split between Jorge and Schultz. Something had definitely changed between the Head of the Forstapo and the Head of the Honour Guard. But then, without Rupert to referee, I guessed that politics was rearing its ugly head even more than normal within the SS, which worked through rivalry and promotion into dead men's shoes at the best of times.
"After all," Jorge added, with a slight smile, "you know Elanor would kill me if I let anything happen to you. And in my guise as a Priest of Protection, I'm honour bound to assist."
I glanced over at Claire, who seemed completely absorbed in what she was doing, and I could feel low-level Logrus activity from her. Her expression was calm, and she genuinely seemed better.
"Alright," I said, finally. I didn't like it, but there was a certain logic to it, and I knew that I wasn't going to be able to get any further without seeing what was going on inside Rupert's head.
"For what it's worth," Schultz commented, "I also give you my word that I will not let you come to harm while you help the RFSS...unless you harm him. But I do not believe you would do that."
I looked at him, and then at Gerlinde.
"This is becoming a mutual appreciation freak show," he said, coldly, regarding each of us with distaste, "if you need me, I'll be in my quarters."
And with that, he turned on his heel and left, and I could almost see Jorge and Schultz breathe a sigh of relief.
"Problem?" I asked.
"Long story," Jorge replied.
"Schultz?"
"I am not currently Obergruppenführer Gerlinde's favourite person, Your Majesty," he answered with a shrug, "but that is not your concern. Perhaps you should return to helping the RFSS?"
It was obvious he wasn't going to say any more, so I returned to my chair and settled down beside my brother's bed. Then after trusting to providence, I put myself into a trance and started to work. I made the contact with him faster than I had expected, which as least suggested that he was still in there somewhere, and began to feel for the pathways within his mind, to see if I could find the root of why he was still in a coma. However, rather to my surprise, before I could reach any conclusions, I found myself pulled into what had to be some kind of mental landscape.
As I looked around me, the ground was blackened and burned, and a short distance away I could see the remains of a high fence, which looked to have been torn down with little or no ceremony. His shields? And the whole place seemed cold and desolate. I turned on the spot, taking in the landscape, and saw a building in the distance, on a slight rise in the centre of the burned area. It seemed sturdy enough, and around the walls, I thought I could see traces of green. I moved in that direction, and as I got closer, I realised that it was Panenske Brezany, his official residence just outside Berlin, but whereas in the real world, I would have been walking through neatly kept gardens, here it was kicking over ash and charred wood. Still, as I got closer, I began to see green shoots among the charring, which became more abundant the closer I came to the building. I went around to the front door, which was hanging open on its hinges, and went inside, but the place was eerily quiet.
"Rupert?" I called, but there was no answer.
And yet the construct had to mean something. I started working my way through the building, but the rooms were empty of either furniture or any sign of life, and it seemed colourless: as if the life had been drained out of it. Everywhere I could see cobwebs in the corners and other signs of disuse...cracked plaster, wood which was in desperate need of polishing, etc, and as I explored, I became more and more concerned. If this was my brother's mind, then it had taken some serious damage.
And then I poked my nose into the library.
The contrast was startling. The place was a riot of colour after the house: plush red carpeting and upholstery on the chairs, and fresh white paint on the walls, highlighted with gilt. I stepped inside, and was met by the comforting, familiar smell of thousands of books, warmed by the summer sunshine that was streaming in through the high-level windows. I walked over to one of the sets of shelves and cast my eye over the titles. Every one of them was the same: Die Lebensbeschreibung von Rupert Delatz was written in gold leaf gothic script on the spines, and they were neatly ordered by volume number. All of them looked brand new, as if they'd never been read. As I looked at the doorway, I could that the numbers were high, but as I walked back down the room, looking into the various alcoves, I could see they were descending.
About a third of the way towards the back wall, I saw that the titles changed to English, and began to alternate between Rupert de Lacy and Robert Delatz, which gave me slight pause for thought. I reached for the first of these - or perhaps technically the last, as the volume numbers had jumped again and then started counting back down - and pulled it off the shelf. I flipped it open, and found myself reading about the night before I had Created Sable, and my conversation with Brand, moving on to the actual Creation itself. Fascinated, I sipped that book back onto the shelf and tried to pick up Volume 1 of Die Lebensbeschreibung von Rupert Delatz, but it wouldn't budge.
"Those aren't your memories," came a voice from behind me, and I turned to face the speaker. It had to be my brother, although his appearance was more that of his astral self, ie nearer to my own, and he looked to be in his early-thirties.
"Hello, Rupert."
"Robert...I presume you're Robert?"
"I am...don't you recognise me?"
"You're older than I expected. I'd visualised you more my age."
"If it's any consolation, I imagined you closer to mine," I answered, and he gave a weak smile, "you've had your people worried."
"My people?" he answered, cautiously, almost as if he didn't know who I was talking about, "I'm more interested in your opinion."
"In truth, you've had me worried as well."
"I understand that it's good to be loved," he answered, with a sad smile, "and I also know the pain of losing someone you love."
"I wasn't aware that you'd lost anyone you cared about..."
"Elizabeth, of course?" he answered, with a sigh, then his expression hardened, "how could you forget that?"
"Elizabeth was my wife, Rupert," I replied, "not yours. What is this place?"
"My memory, apparently," he answered, "as I understand from my guide, I was part of you for a long time, before we finally...separated, although I don't understand how that is possible. However, it means that it is also yours. And so, just now, I feel the loss of Elizabeth as keenly as you do."
I was startled, and completely at a loss how to react. He looked at me for a few moments, then shrugged.
"My guide tells me that I need to read everything in this place."
"Can't you just jump to the end? After all, they may not be my memories, but they are yours, if your guide is right."
"Trust me, I've tried," he replied, "however..."
And he crossed to where I was standing, and tried to reach for the book I had failed to pick up. He lifted it off the shelf and opened it without difficulty, but it was blank.
"...Apparently I'm not allowed to take a sneak peak at the end."
He returned the book to the shelf and then picked up the one I had looked inside, but again, it was blank. He looked at me and shrugged, but I could see pain and frustration in his eyes.
"These aren't my memories yet," he said, softly, "so until they are, they are denied to me. I have to rediscover them in sequence."
"The way you would if you rewalked the Pattern?" I asked.
"I feel that I should understand what you just said...but I do not. It's very confusing. Come."
And he turned and walked down the centre of the library. I fell into step beside him, and we walked until we were about two-thirds of the way down the room from where I had come in. About halfway around the alcove he turned into, I saw that there was a difference in the books. The ones with the lower volume numbers had darker covers, and looked worn, and I guessed they were the ones he had been able to read thus far.
"We had an interesting time in the Napoleonic War, it seems, and now we're off to the Crimea. Were there any wars we decided to sit out?"
"Not very many," I answered, and crossed to the shelf and picked up the most recent used volume.
It looked to cover the early 1850s, and as I scanned it through, while I recognised everything it was describing, there was a somewhat different slant to what I was reading than I remembered. More cynical. More detached. As if viewed through the eyes of someone else, through me. It was very disconcerting.
"I was part of you, and sometimes you even listened to me within you, but most of the time you exerted a rigid control over us. I was imprisoned within you for over three hundred years, until you finally allowed me my freedom.
"It isn't quite as simple as that," I answered.
"Nothing ever is. Especially as my guide is unwilling to go into details about how that came about, as yet."
"Who is this guide you keep mentioning?"
"He's over there."
I glanced over towards the opposite alcove, in which were a number of comfortable chairs, a fireplace, and a small drinks cabinet in the corner. Lying on the rug in front of the fireplace was a very large, rich tawny-coloured panther. It was a little smaller than Anglia, and as I took a few steps towards it and it stood, I could see tabby markings in darker brown on his shining hide. It took a few seconds to recognise them as the design of the Black Pattern.
"His name is Düdesch," Rupert supplied, "he's been helping me."
The big cat padded quietly towards us, fixing me with a pair of large, green eyes, and I had the impression he wasn't particularly friendly. The snarl probably added to that impression. In fact, I realised just how people must feel when they saw Anglia for the first time.
"I don't think he'll eat you," Rupert said, mildly, but I'd swear that the panther licked its lips in response.
"Rupert, what happened?"
"From what Düdesch has been willing to tell me - which isn't that much - you saved my body, but my mind was overloaded and burned out. Which I have to say doesn't sound particularly healthy, from a medical perspective."
"No. Not really"
"But all is not lost. Apparently it's...regenerating. Is that the right term?"
"It's the term you'd use if one of us were coming back from the dead, being rebuilt by the Pattern. Yes."
"And again, I feel I should understand what you've just said...and yet I don't. It makes me feel so...helpless."
His expression was sad, almost pleading, and I'd never seen him looking so lost.
"No doubt you could teach me what it means?" he asked, hopefully, but Düdesch growled as he suggested it, and he sighed and addressed the big cat, "but let me guess...that counts as jumping to the end, as well."
It looked at him, and it definitely nodded.
"Dammit!"
"Do you have any idea how long this is going to take?" I asked.
"I'm a third of the way through. I'm hopeful that it won't take forever. Say, twice as long as it's been up until now."
"Out in the real world, you're lying in a coma. You have been for a fortnight."
"Because I'm told that's the safest way to preserve my body until I remember enough to awaken," he answered, "although I will admit to being unconvinced. Düdesch hasn't said much about my situation, but reading between the lines it looks as if you set me loose among a pack of wolves, some of whom are likely to be trying to supplant me while I'm weak."
"Sadly, he's probably right in his assessment."
"So it seems contradictory that I should be safest while completely helpless."
"You have a core of very loyal followers who will guard you with their lives. They will do their best to protect you."
"Could you not take me somewhere safer?"
"They wouldn't let me if I asked."
"I'm not sure I like the sound of 'my' world. Millbank seems much more civilised. Why did you do this to me, Robert? Make me live among wolves? It doesn't seem very brotherly."
"It was the world that seemed to suit you best."
"But I'm you..." he replied, frustration and a trace of anger in his tone, "is it the world which suits you best? Or is it merely the one that's convenient for you to believe suits me?"
"I..."
"Never mind...no doubt it will make more sense once I've reintegrated this lot..."
And he made an expansive gesture taking in the library.
"Is there anything I can do to help?"
"I'd be grateful if there's a body waiting for me when I'm ready to wake up. Make sure my own wolves defeat my enemy's."
He lapsed into silence, which was broken only by the sound of our breathing, and the occasional low rumble from the panther. Then he pulled the next book off the shelf and headed towards the chairs in front of the fireplace, and sat down. Unsure what else to do, I followed him, but crossed to the drinks cabinet. I opened it to see that it contained a pottery flagon and a couple of cut crystal glasses. I opened the stopper, and was met by a familiar aroma. I lifted it, poured us both a glass, and then crossed to join him.
He took the glass, savoured the smell for a while, and then took a drink.
"Tell me, Robert. Do we get on? Out there..."
"Better than we used to," I answered, taking my own sip of The MacAllan, albeit a relatively early distillation, "although it took a long time for us to get to that point. But no doubt, you'll learn that as you read."
"And do you care about me? About what happens to me?"
I didn't reply immediately. It was a hard question to answer, but on balance...
"Yes," I replied, "yes, I do care."
"You had to think about that."
"It's complicated...you and I are diametric opposites."
"But are we? Are we really?"
"What do you mean?"
"At the moment, as I read, it seems that rather than being opposites, we are complementary halves of a whole. Without one of us, the other wouldn't exist. Couldn't function. Without me, you would be weak, indecisive. Without you I would be cruel, hard. Together, we are balance."
Before I could answer, I saw a blur of movement, and the panther was beside him, growling, paws on his knees, and Rupert cursed roundly.
"Dammit this is getting annoying."
"Too much like jumping to the end?" I asked.
"Apparently so," he answered, and scratched the panther behind the ear, "I take the hint. You can get down before you lacerate me."
It licked his face, rather to both of our surprise, and then dropped down and curled up beside the fire again, and a few moments later, it was asleep.
"If you care...as you say you do...why didn't you stop me?"
"Stop you doing what?"
"Whatever it was that burned out my mind."
"Because I didn't know exactly what you were planning."
"Really? No suspicions at all?"
"You'd dropped a hint or two, but I had no idea what you were actually going to do. If I'd known, I would have tried to stop you, as while your actions were well meant, they were...ill advised."
"Would I have listened?"
"That is a completely different question."
"Perhaps, once I know myself better, I'll be able to answer it myself."
We sat in silence for a while, sipping our respective Scotches, but then suddenly, Düdesch was up and moving, running through the library towards the door. Startled I got up to follow, but Rupert stayed put.
"Don't worry about it. He does that periodically. You get used to it."
"What's he doing?"
"He says he's chasing eagles. Apparently they keep trying to get into the library. He sees them off."
"Eagles?"
"That's what he says."
"Why eagles?"
"I have absolutely no idea."
He fell silent for a moment, and finished his drink, laying the glass on the reading table beside him.
"I expect it's time you were going. I have so many questions that I want to ask you, but Düdesch is not going to allow you to answer, so I expect that I need to get back to my reading before I get overwhelmed with the hopelessness of my situation."
"You're situation isn't hopeless," I answered, "difficult...unusual...certainly, but not hopeless. That you're aware enough to have this conversation proves that."
"You may be right," he answered, and we got to our feet. Then, rather to my surprise, he crossed to me and embraced me.
"Thank you for caring enough to come and find me, Robert," he said, quietly, as he stepped back, a few moments later, "I think I rather like having a big brother...even if he can be a bastard at times."
"Why don't we wait until you're up and about in the real world before you jump to too many conclusions, or say too many things that you might regret later."
He looked at me and shrugged.
"Perhaps. After all, I'm only a third of the way through my life at this point. Who knows what might happen? By the end of it I might hate you with a passion."
"I hope not...but we'll see."
Then he took my hand and shook it.
"I'd be curious to know if we're going to remember this conversation later," he mused.
"So am I," I replied, "although as it's happening in my present, I'd guess there's a good chance I will."
"I guess we'll see each other once I'm up and about again, and then we can compare notes. However, in the meantime...thank you."
"I haven't really done anything...you seem to be doing fine on your own."
"If you hadn't saved my body, my mind wouldn't be here," he replied, "I would be no more. Thanks to you, I have a chance of returning to normal."
"I'd miss you if you were gone forever."
He looked at me and smiled.
"Yes, I rather think you would. Until we meet on the outside..."
"Indeed."
And with that, I headed back towards the library door, passing Düdesch coming back the other way. He snarled at me once more, for luck, and then padded on back to sit beside my brother, who rested one hand on the cat's head and picked up a book in the other. It was an image that was likely to stay with me.
As I stepped out of the library, rather than finding myself in the hall of Panenske Brezany, I was suddenly cold, and I realised I was surrounded by white light. I instantly recognised the place as being within Roland's Logrus. I quickly put up defences to dampen down my Pattern imprint, as walking into a Powers clash really didn't appeal, and took stock of my situation. Off to one side, I could see two figures talking...both female...and approached them, and as I did, realised that one of them was Claire. She turned to me and smiled, and I felt my heart melt.
"How did you get here," she asked, as she hugged me, before letting me go again.
"To tell the truth, I have no idea," I answered, then identified the other woman, "Hello Gaia."
As well as there being a Gaia on Earth, there was also one within Roland's Pantheon: the Goddess of the Land, who spent most of her time living within the Aurellian Logrus.
"Robert," she said, inclining her head slightly, "how is Rupert?"
"He'll live," I replied, "he's doing his homework currently."
They both looked at me, puzzled, and I shrugged.
"Long story. Why the Hell are we here?"
"Claire was talking to the Logrus," Gaia answered, "I have no idea why you're here."
"Thanks for the welcome."
"No, I genuinely have no idea why you're here..." she replied, "maybe you need to head back from whence you came, while Claire, the Logrus and I finish our conversation."
I turned to look back the way I came, but all I saw was more Logrus. There was no sign of the door into Rupert's mental library. Then something occurred to me.
"Gaia, what is the avatar beast of the Aurellian Logrus?"
"A golden eagle - with one or two heads, depending on whether it's the Eboracum or Federation manifestation."
Chasing eagles.
Perhaps what had happened was that the Logrus was still trying to work its influence on Rupert, and Düdesch, on behalf of the Sable Pattern, was protecting him.
"Robert?" Claire asked, puzzled.
"Something just clicked into place, I think," I replied, "at least, it's either that, or I'm putting two and two together to make five. Is there anything I can do to help you here?"
"No...the Logrus and I are having a discussion about Aspects, servitude and knowing its proper place. I'm not sure how long we'll be, but I suspect it's something I need to do alone."
"I understand," I replied, quietly, and kissed her on the forehead, "I'll see you back at the castle."
She nodded and gave me a quick kiss, and then I set about trying to leave. Jumping myself out with the Pattern seemed like a really bad idea, but at least I could drag myself out with the Logrus, so I called upon it, and thought myself to the Templum Deorum in Eboracum. Moments later, I stepped out into the version of Millbank which forms my residence there. I felt tired and hungry, and the last thing I wanted to do was go back to the Reich. However, I had no idea what they'd seen me or Claire do, and rather than make it look as if anything untoward had happened, I ought to check in with them.
I brought Schultz's Trump to mind, and then concentrated, and after a moment or two I made a contact. With me. Very confused at this point I formed the connection, and Trumped myself through, to find myself back in my own body, sitting by Rupert's bed and feeling very cold. I opened my eyes and looked around. Very little seemed to have changed, although Schultz and Jorge were looking at me with some concern. Of Stuckart there was no sign.
"Are you alright Your Majesty?" Schultz asked.
"Any particular reason why I shouldn't be?"
"You faded out for a moment there, Grandfather," Jorge answered.
"I'll be fine...although I could kill a glass of The MacAllan...which I suspect my brother has in his drinks cabinet."
Jorge chuckled and ducked out, and I walked round to where Claire was sitting. She was also in a trance and when I touched her she felt cool, although her pulse was strong and she was in no obvious discomfort. I brought up my arcane senses, and realised that whatever the Logrus trace which had seemed to be warring inside him earlier, was now gone. The only Primal Power trying to stake a claim on him was the Sable Pattern.
"Here," Jorge said, returning glass in hand, and he passed it to me. I took a sip and felt warmer, then turned to look at them, "how's Rupert?"
"Well, he's in there, and with a bit of time, he's going to be fine," I said. I saw relief cross Schultz's face, and he looked five years younger as the weight of uncertainty was lifted from his shoulders.
"Thank the gods."
I almost felt sorry for having to take the wind out of his sails...at least to a degree.
"However, before you crack the champagne, it's going to take him a while to recover. It's the fifteenth now?"
"Actually, it's the sixteenth," Jorge answered, "you've been working for about eight hours."
"Then it's probably going to be another month before he wakes up. He reckoned he was a third of the way through the healing process."
"How do you know?" Schultz asked, cautiously.
"He told me."
"Excuse me?"
"As I said, he's in there. We talked...we even shared a drink."
"But he isn't conscious," Schultz protested.
"The mind plays some weird games at times, especially as it tries to cope with severe injury. On this occasion, his seems to have has developed a construct to aid his recovery, and he's working within it."
"What's actually wrong?" Jorge asked, "he seems physically fine."
"He is...Gerlinde working with his shape shifting guaranteed that. But his mind is regenerating. He was more badly hurt than even I had suspected, and my prognosis wasn't exactly rosy ..."
"I remember..." Schultz commented.
"So it's taking him time to heal. But healing he is, and give it a month and he should be in a position where he can wake up."
"It's a long time," Schultz said, quietly.
"Yes, but at least it's a timeframe," Jorge replied, "and it's well within the agreed three months."
"Three months?" I asked, puzzled.
"The Triumvirate are licensed for three months."
"Triumvirate?"
"I'm sure General Graham will have put it into your security briefings," Jorge pointed out.
"If I'd read one for a fortnight, I'm sure he did. However, I've been elsewhere."
"Kessler, Heydrich and Gerlinde."
"God, that's the combination from Hell," I commented, but neither of them looked amused, and I remembered where I was, "Sorry...So Kessler, Heydrich and Gerlinde are what...?"
"They have joint operational command of the SS until the Reichsführer is fit to take over again."
"I can see I've missed something. However, no doubt Gray will brief me when I get back to Sable."
"But you're sure he will recover?" Schultz asked, in confirmation, and I nodded.
"As sure as I can be," I replied, "although whether he comes out of this unchanged is anyone's guess. In fact, I would be surprised if that he did. So he'll probably take a while to find his feet again."
"You almost sound like you want him to succeed," Jorge pointed out.
"From a personal point of view, yes. I want him to succeed. I'm coming to realise that I care for him and would miss him if he was gone. And from a political point of view, I'd much rather he was RFSS than either Kessler or Gerlinde, that's for sure. Kessler is ruthless and ambitious and would take things in a different direction; and to be blunt, Gerlinde is far too unstable for such a position."
"And Heydrich?"
"I don't really know the man well enough to comment, although my knowledge of his father colours my opinions. But on balance, Rupert is best suited for the job, and I hope he realises that."
"So do we," Schultz replied, and it was obvious that he meant it.
I took another couple of mouthfuls from my glass, then laid it down on the side table and looked at Claire. As I did so, I was rewarded by seeing her shake her head. Her eyes opened and she tried to stand, but she was very unsteady on her feet, but I managed to catch her before she fell.
"Are you alright, love?" I asked, quietly.
"Much better than I was," she replied, and I could feel that the pressure on her which the Logrus had caused before, had gone. I wasn't sure if it was just because the mere act of her coming to see Rupert had been sufficient, or because whatever she had been discussing in the Logrus, which I'd unwittingly interrupted, had been responsible, but either way, I breathed a sigh of relief.
"Can we go now?" she asked, in a small voice.
"Definitely," I replied, then turned to Schultz and Jorge, "I think we've done what we can, Standartenführer Schultz."
"Thank you, Your Majesties," he answered, with a nod of acknowledgement, and I realised that he knew exactly who Claire was. I wondered when he'd figured it out.
"I also rather think we should be going, before Gerlinde comes back."
"That might be wise," Schultz replied.
"Are you going to be okay?"
"I'll be fine. And anyway, Jorge and I make a decent team. We'll look after the boss."
"I know you will. I'll keep in touch, and moreover, if you think I can help any further, you both have my card. Use it."
"Of course, Grandfather," Jorge answered.
I nodded, and then took hold of Claire and brought a Trump of the Royal Quarters in Sable Palace to mind. I concentrated, and we stepped through into our rooms. She collapsed as we arrived, and I swept her up into my arms and crossed to lay her on the bed.
"Thank you, Robert," she said, quietly, and kissed me.
"For what?" I asked, a few moments later.
"Persuading me to help Rupert...it was the right thing to do. For both of us."
"I couldn't stand to see you in pain."
"I know...and I love you for it."
"How's the baby."
"He's fine...he didn't come with me to the Logrus. He stayed behind."
"I did wonder...I'm not sure I could cope with a Logrus initiated infant."
"Believe me, Robert, he's going to initiate to the Aurellian Logrus over my dead body," she answered, vehemently, then added, more calmly, "now, come to bed. You look dead on your feet."
I didn't need asking twice.