Sable Palace/Argent
3rd June SY154
Once Claire and Michael were gone, I stood and headed for the bathroom to shower and shave, hoping that something as mundane and routine as that would make me feel any better. And to a degree it worked. As I stood under the water - probably running it hotter than I should have - I began to feel my anger draining away, leaving behind it a sense of emptiness and incompleteness that I was at a loss to explain. I stepped out of the shower, towelled myself dry and then crossed to the mirror to shave. However, as I looked at my reflection, it was as if a stranger was looking back out at me. Yes, he had my face, but he looked tired and there was a coldness in his eyes which I wasn't used to seeing.
I ran my fingers through my hair, where under normal circumstances I would still have been carrying scar tissue from having been shot by Paolo, and sure enough, there it was, albeit fainter than normal. It was as if the body I was wearing was being affected by the scars of my soul, even though it wasn't truly my own. I'd wondered which way round that would be. Then I stood there in silence for a few minutes, leaning forward against the basin and trying to decide what to do next.
Claire and the others would be waiting for me downstairs, but I had to admit that the last thing I wanted to do just then was eat. My appetite had gone with my anger, leaving me feeling hollow. I headed back into the bedroom and dressed in a polo shirt and some loose cotton trousers, and then made my way out. But my destination wasn't the dining room. Instead I went out into the gardens, and considered the staircase climbing the peak which led up to Argent. Would I get the answers I was looking for by essaying the Great Design on the Isle of Dreams? Or would I do better to take Michael's advice and walk one of the more standard Patterns, thus potentially binding my soul to the body it was currently wearing.
One thing was certain, though. Right then, my thrice-cursed brother had me at a considerable disadvantage, and I needed to level the playing field. Michael was right. Walking the Pattern would be the first step towards doing that.
I brought the Pattern to mind, and jumped myself to the Terra Magica maze, then took myself down into the Pattern Chamber underneath it. It was deathly quiet, the silence almost expectant. I waited for a few moments, to see if Anglia was going to make an appearance, but there was nothing. That worried me somewhat: he usually made his presence felt if I was there. But of course, now Düdesch was in the picture - assuming he existed anywhere except in the Library of Rupert's mind - and I had no idea what effect that might have on Anglia. I'd never heard of the reflection of a Pattern having an avatar before.
Still, the Pattern itself seemed as welcoming as ever, so I made my way across the room to the beginning, and started to walk. It felt strange. As if something didn't quite fit. The body I was wearing was obviously able to make the walk, but as I began, I felt disassociated from it. That didn't bode well at all. However, I'd taken the first few steps, and it was too late to stop.
As I walked, the memories came tumbling into my mind, but this time, they seemed to be made up of different perspectives. Like the books in the Library. I was recalling events I knew and remembered, but as often as not given a slant I wasn't used seeing. Could the Pattern be as confused as I was about who and what I was just then? Unable to do anything else, as the prospect of stepping off the lines and dying didn't appeal, I kept going. A short while later, I hit the First Veil, and as I fought my way through it, the feeling of disassociation lessened. As if the act of essaying the Veil was the first link in solidifying body and soul into a single entity.
I pressed on. The feeling of dual perspective was still with me, but it didn't seem as prevalent, as if the Pattern was getting to grips with my new situation. Maybe this was going to work after all? The Second Veil reinforced the work of its predecessor, and once I was through it, I felt better...more myself. And yet, as well as my own memories - which were at least more identifiably mine -I was picking up ghosts of Rupert's, as I had done when I had read the books of his life.
By then, I was getting more complacent...more comfortable with what I thought was happening, but as I hit the Third Veil, it was as if I'd walked into a brick wall. Hatred. Anger. Confusion. Shame. And an overwhelming regret such as I hadn't experienced for a very long time. And yet I couldn't understand what it was I was supposed to be regretting. I tried to press on, but every step was agony. My body suddenly felt like it was on fire. I drew on my reserves of strength and kept trying to fight through, and eventually broke through the Veil. And I realised it wasn't my regret I was feeling. It was my brother's. However, before I could process that information, I was hit by the agonising pain once again. I staggered the last few steps and made it to the centre, gasping for breath, sweat pouring from my body.
I tried to turn off my pain receptors, but it didn't work. I didn't seem to have control of my shifting to that degree. In fact, I could barely concentrate at all, and I realised that I was going to black out. I tried to focus on telling the Pattern to send me elsewhere, but I couldn't make the connection. Instead, the pain overwhelmed me, and I dropped like a stone into darkness.
When I came around, the pain had lessened, but I was still lying in the centre of the Pattern. I tried to do a self-check and the best I could come up with was the fact that it felt for all the world like I'd been ground zero of a Pattern-Logrus clash. And yet how could that possibly be the case, given where I was?
I picked myself up, dusted myself off and then pondered what to do next. Claire would be worried - especially as I had no idea how long I'd been unconscious for - so I brought her image to mind and tried to jump to her. I felt the Pattern respond to me, but as I transferred, it felt wrong. As if I didn't have control of where I was going. I stumbled as I landed, and spent a few moments regaining my balance. I felt tired and sick, wherever I was just didn't feel quite real, and everything was lit by moonlight.
Argent?
What the Hell was I doing in Argent?
"By the gods, Robert," came the last voice I wanted to hear, "you have a fucking awful sense of timing."
I steeled myself and turned, to see Rupert looking at me, from the comfort of what looked like a garden chair. He was wearing his usual appearance, rather than his (my?) true form, and he looked as tired and in pain as I felt. Behind him I could see the trelliswork of a gazebo, twisted with silver clematis. I felt my anger surge within me and took a step towards him, but he gestured, and I found myself hitting a strong shield. Within it I could sense the resonance of his Aurellian aspect of God of Protection. He obviously wasn't wasting any time getting established in my body.
"I'd really rather talk right now than fight," he said, calmly, his eyes meeting mine, and he sounded sincere, which possibly disturbed me more than his being there at all.
"What is there to talk about?" I demanded, "you attacked me."
"Yes I did," he replied, but to my surprise, I could hear regret in his tone.
"Care to tell me why, before I rip you limb from limb?"
"Right now, I'm not convinced you could rip apart a wet paper bag, Mein Bruder," he said, with a weak smile, "however, probably neither could I, which is why I want to talk. So, if I let the shield down, are you going to be sensible? Or are you in the grip of a desire to commit righteous murder?"
I looked at him, considering my options. I could attack, but while I really wanted to, the way I felt, I wasn't sure it would be a particularly good idea. And they do always says revenge is a dish best served cold. Perhaps now was the moment to heed that advice, rather than go off half cocked.
"I'll listen," I said, quietly.
Michael would be so proud of me.
"Thank you," he replied, and the shield disappeared. He indicated the second chair, but I stayed where I was, crossing my arms in front of me and glowering at him.
He looked at me for a moment, then shrugged. "As you wish."
"So talk."
"I'm sorry," he replied, quietly.
"Excuse me?"
I'd expected him to say many things, but that wasn't one of them.
"I said I'm sorry," he said, more loudly, and I could see a flash of impatience in his eyes, "you were right. Back in the Library I jumped to the wrong conclusions on too little information, and in doing so fucked things up royally."
I looked at him, trying to figure out if he was serious, and he could obviously see my confusion.
"Düdesch played me. Made me see what he wanted me to see. I trusted him as my guide and he took advantage of my weakness."
"It doesn't change the fact that you attacked me."
"No. But it was on his instigation," he replied, "he fed my hatred and resentment of you until it seemed like a good idea. Now I know it was bloody stupid."
"And you've come to this epiphany how?"
"Because when I walked the Pattern, as you have now done, my true memories were returned to me. Along with some of what I guess have to be yours. They're too goody goody to have been anything I came up with."
"How do you know I've walked the Pattern?"
"I was with Roland, retaking the Aurellian Logrus while you were doing it. As I said, you have a bloody awful sense of timing."
"If that's true, then we were at opposite ends of the universe."
"Yes we were. However, something feels different with the link we share. I have a feeling that you and I are much more closely connected than we were before."
As I thought about it, I was disturbed to see what he meant. Gone was the nebulous link which used to only trigger under extreme pain or stress, to be replaced by a semi-permanent connection which seemed to be lingering in a holding pattern at the back of my mind.
"Joy," I answered, my tone sarcastic, "any idea why?"
"My guess is because of what's happened over the last few days."
"When you stole my body and left me for dead."
"Don't exaggerate," he snapped, "I certainly didn't leave you for dead. I knew you'd get out of there eventually...although I'll admit you managed it faster than I had expected. Care to share how?"
"No."
He shrugged, and gave a wry smile.
"Well, you can't blame me for asking, given it seems to have been rather less trouble for you than it was for me."
"So is that why you brought me here?" I asked, my tone cold.
"I didn't bring you here," he replied, "in fact, I'm not entirely sure how I got here myself. I Pattern jumped back from Eboracum, aiming for the Wewelsburg, and found myself diverted."
"Much the same happened to me," I commented, and he nodded in acknowledgement..
I looked at him, trying to get a handle on whether he was lying, but he seemed to be telling the truth. Indeed, if I concentrated, I could feel his sincerity. The link between us was definitely stronger, and I wasn't at all sure I liked it.
"Maybe the universe realised that right now, you and I are closer to trying to kill each other that we have been for many years..." he said, thinking aloud.
"What about the drug-crazed incident in Berlin?"
"A one-off," he replied, his tone annoyed and defensive, "as well you know. And I seem to recall attempting to make amends for that, too."
Sadly, I couldn't deny that.
"Go on," I suggested.
"As I was saying, perhaps the universe - or maybe more specifically the Pattern - has realised that its situation is more precarious than it has been for a long time, given that the effect of you and I trying to kill each other is likely to be highly detrimental to it, and it wants us to settle our differences before letting us loose in the real world again. My guess is that this was the nearest it could find to neutral territory."
"Settle our differences?" I retorted, "you attacked me after I tried to help you. Any differences are yours, and yours alone to settle. Starting with you returning my own body to me."
"Don't be melodramatic," he snapped, "you have a perfectly functional body and you're obviously making yourself at home in it. All you need to do now is retake the Aurellian Logrus, so you can reconnect to your aspects as God of Teachers and Investigation, and you'll be right back to what passes for normal."
"I have absolutely no desire to be 'normal' in the mangy shell of flesh and bones which you should be calling home," I answered.
"It's a damn sight fitter than this one," he answered, looking at his own hands and then back at me, "even after it's been in a coma for a month. By the gods you've got lazy. You'll be developing a pot belly next, and I can almost feel the cholesterol clogging up your arteries."
"So if you're so enamoured of the body you've dumped me with, then swap back."
"But that's where things get tricky."
I glared at him, eyes narrowed.
"Well, do you have the slightest idea how to unwind this?" he asked, "because I don't."
My eyes narrowed further.
"Not, I admit, that I have a great deal of motivation to look into it, given the specific benefit your body has over mine."
"What about that apology you say you owe me?" I demanded.
"I apologise for attacking you. I was an idiot, and it was stupid and short sighted. I realise that now..." he answered, however I could feel qualification in his tone.
"But...?"
"But that doesn't necessarily mean I regret the physical outcome, your general level of fitness aside, which is easily fixed. In fact, I quite fancy having access to what you've always taken for granted. And I will confess, the idea of you spending a while contemplating the struggles, hand wringing and heartbreak I've had to deal with on the same subject since we separated might teach you a lesson in much-needed humility."
"I need a lesson in humility?" I asked, incredulous.
"Oh by the gods, grow up," he snapped, angrily, "and stop acting like a bitchy little girl. It's not as if you're short of descendants, and there's yet another de Lacy brat on the way. So why are you so dead against my having the same opportunity to further my line?"
My anger flared up and in that moment, almost before I realised what I was doing, I sent a charge of energy towards him. He tried to ward himself, but part of it still got through and hit him firmly in the shoulder, knocking him backwards off the chair to land in an ungainly heap. Given the change in the connection between us, perhaps I should have expected to feel echoes of his pain in my own shoulder, but they caught me by surprise. He twisted towards me, surprise warring with fury on his face.
"What that fuck was that for?" he demanded, eyes blazing as he first got to all fours, and then stood up, his left arm cradled in his right and his personal wards tight around him. The shoulder of his shirt was smouldering slightly, and I could see the damage underneath.
"That was for Claire," I answered.
"Ah...you found out about that."
"It's not like you didn't telegraph it with that charming note you left me in the Library."
"What note?" he asked, apparently genuinely confused.
"You know. The one which said 'Oh, and by the way, I'm really looking forward to fucking your lovely wife'. It took you what, twenty minutes to do just that after you got to Sable?"
"Why the Hell would I leave you a note?"
"Thanks to the Library, I know damned well that you fancy her. Always have."
"No. I was in love with Elizabeth. Claire isn't Elizabeth...not quite. Yes, she's a beautiful woman, but she's not the one I lost when you let your bloody son live."
"That doesn't seem to have stopped you taking advantage of her," I answered, angrily.
"What do you want me to say? Yes, I slept with her...although technically, it was your body which did that, if you want to be fussy, which possibly makes your own situation interesting in that regard. But I didn't leave you a note telegraphing anything. And I didn't leave the Library with the intention of making love to her...I just seized an opportunity she presented."
I stared at him, but what disturbed me, was that he seemed to be telling the truth.
"So if it wasn't you, who was it?"
"My guess, Düdesch. This note you claim to have seen seems to have been designed to press your buttons. To make you lash out at me. That would seem consistent with his desire to drive a wedge between us."
"Well, it's succeeding."
I stared at him, feeling a naked hatred towards him such as I hadn't felt in years. He met my gaze and held it for a few moments, before shrugging and releasing it.
"Then we both need to take a step back and think about this, so that it can't," he said, more calmly, "neither you, nor I, nor this universe of ours can afford us to be at each other's throats. We agreed that the first time we met, and recent events haven't changed that fundamental truth. Perhaps Düdesch thinks that by doing this, the Reich will gain more dominance and Sable will be weakened, as its King will be rendered ineffectual, side-lined by personal hatreds."
I looked at him in silence, and the rational part of my mind - the one being subsumed under my indignation - knew that he was right.
"Robert, as I see it, things could be a Hell of a lot worse," he continued, "right now, we're both alive, well and conscious, so in my book, we're currently ahead of where we were this time last week."
I felt a shiver up my spine as he echoed the sentiments Michael had voiced a few hours before,. Hearing them from Rupert, and him making them sound so rational, disturbed the Hell out of me.
"You might be," I answered, "I find myself falling somewhat behind."
"In one minor detail...that's all. Oh...except for the fact that you really need to walk the Aurellian Logrus. It's getting cranky at your absence."
"Cranky?"
"It can't get in touch with its God of Teachers and Investigation. It's therefore feeling unbalanced. And on the theory that we aren't going to fix this quickly, you need to do the decent thing by it."
"You're so sure this isn't fixable? Have you even thought about how it might be done?"
"Briefly...and no, I haven't come to any conclusions. We know how we got here...but it involved the Library, which was keyed to my memories, not yours. Therefore there's no guarantee that it would serve the same process in reverse."
"I'm sure we could get back there if we put our minds to it...and after I knock you senseless, and take back what's mine, it should be business as normal."
"Assuming it's even still there," he answered, "think about it. As far as I can tell, Düdesch - or whatever created him, which may have been the Sable Pattern itself - constructed it as an aide memoire for me, and since we left it, we've both walked the Pattern, thereby rendering it obsolete. So I'd give decent odds that it no longer exists."
"We won't know unless we go looking for it."
"And you propose doing that how? Drawing a Trump of the place?"
"It worked before."
"No...what worked before was a picture of me in that place. A subtle, but potentially significant difference."
"We won't know unless we try," I pointed out.
"True...and if you have anything to draw with, then be my guest and have a go. But my gut is telling me it isn't going to work."
"How about Trumping Düdesch?" I suggested.
He thought for a moment, then shrugged.
"Maybe...I spent more time with him than you did, and you're right. I probably could draw a Trump of him. But of course, that would rely on my having the motivation to do so. And right now..."
"Damn you to Hell," I snarled, angrily.
"I suspect it's rather too late for that," he answered, and for a moment, I thought I saw a trace of regret pass across his features. But it was quickly gone.
"If you want to try to Trump the Library, go ahead," he said, finally, "I won't stop you."
"Spoken with the confidence of someone who's convinced it's a pointless exercise."
He looked at me and shrugged again.
"So sue me."
"So exactly what is it going to take for you to become motivated? Your...my...body dying from the inside, like Stefan's?"
He paused, obviously trying to resist showing any emotion about that particular subject, but for a second or two, I thought I saw hurt in his eyes.
"There's no guarantee that's going to happen, either," he commented, his tone a studied neutral.
"Why not? His was a Light Side soul trapped in a Dark Side body, metaphorically speaking."
"Different side," he snapped, almost automatically, then continued more calmly, "that is, of course, more your situation than mine."
"No reason why the result would be any different the other way around."
"Stefan had only walked the Sable Pattern. Once you initiated him to the Terra Magica one, the balance was restored. And you and I have both walked all the manifestations of our little system here, so the balance isn't out of kilter to start with."
"Then what?"
"I'm not sure you'd be willing to pay the price, Mein Bruder."
"You have a price in mind?"
"Perhaps, but at the moment it isn't relevant."
"Because you don't think it can be done."
"Correct. However, I give you my word that I will not interfere with your research into possibilities, if it matters so much to you. But in return, have the decency to let me continue going about my own business without trying to prevent me, and after this..." he indicated his shoulder, which superficially appeared to be healing, but was obviously still paining him, "swear that you will not try to attack me, or things are going to get bloody."
"Really?"
"Really. Currently, Schultz has orders not to damage you if you try anything stupid. However, I'm more than willing to change those orders if you don't give me your word in this matter. I have enough problems to sort out at home without having to look over my shoulder as far as you're concerned."
"That doesn't seem a great incentive to me."
"Perhaps not. But ponder this. I rather suspect that this universe of ours isn't going to let either of us leave here until we have agreed not to kill each other."
"Maybe one of us killing the other would swap us back."
"Or maybe it would make things a whole lot worse," he replied, "after all, given that you would be attacking your body if you did strike against me, and I would be attacking mine in reverse, I actually have no idea what would happen along the regeneration lines if one of us were to kill the other in our current states. And I'm not sure you do, either, do you?"
Annoying as it was to admit it, he was right. I didn't have an answer, although I mentally filed it away as one of the topics I would look into once I was home. I had every intention of putting a great deal of thought into swapping us both back where we belonged.
"Your word, Robert? That you will neither interfere with my business, nor attempt to harm or kill me."
I took a deep breath, and then sighed.
"My word on it."
"Excellent. And in turn, I swear that I will not stop you researching how to undo this, if it means so much to you."
"Sobeit."
"But remember what I said about the Aurellian Logrus. You being stubborn about re-walking it, even if our current situation does only prove to be temporary, is having an adverse effect elsewhere, and you don't have the right to cause that."
"So noted."
"Good. Now perhaps we should attempt to leave...each to their own homes, as it were. Unless you fancy staying here for eternity? I, however, find I want a change of company."
"I couldn't get away from here soon enough," I replied, icily, which raised a wry smile from him.
"Until the next time, Mein Bruder," he said, in reply.
I felt him begin to concentrate on the Pattern, and a short while later, he was gone. Moments later, I tried the same thing, with the intention of jumping myself back to Sable, and after a heart-stopping pause when nothing seemed to happen, I felt myself transferring. Two heartbeats, and I could feel solid ground under my feet, and I was looking around the courtyard in the centre of Sable Palace.
I just hoped that Claire wasn't waiting upstairs for me with a cricket bat...