• Robert de Lacy
• Rupert Delatz
• Ian Hawke
• Wolf Ulrich

 
 

Library of Memories

May-June RY154

Books, books everywhere.

How I had reached the library, I didn't know. What I was doing there, I didn't know. I didn't even know who I was: my life was a completely blank slate. I felt like a child, lost and alone.

"You are Rupert Delatz," said a voice in my head, and I heard soft footsteps on the carpet, coming towards me from the only door I could see in the whole room. I looked in that direction to see a huge creature, padding towards me, a beautiful, welcoming design rippling on its tawny hide.

And yet I had no idea what the design was, or why I should find it welcoming.

"You are Rupert Delatz," came a voice in my mind, and somehow I realised it was coming from the beast, "you are the most powerful being in Creation."

"What does that mean? I feel I should know?"

"You were wounded. Injured. Your body nearly died, and your mind was all but destroyed. You have your brother to thank for the fact that you survived physically, which in turn allowed me to build this place so that your mind, too, can heal."

"And you are?"

"I am Düdesch. I am here to help you remember."

"What is this place?"

"This is the best place you could possibly be, if you are ever to become yourself once more. It is the memories you have lost. I will help you regain them, if you are willing to let me guide you."

"I don't understand."

"But you will. Here..."

And he led me to the first of the books. It was bound in bright red leather, with gold leaf on the spine: the title read The Biography of Rupert de Lacy, Volume I. Beside it was The Biography of Robert Delatz, Volume II.

"I don't understand."

"You are the younger of twins, Rupert, except that rather than separate in the womb, you became two people once you were living, breathing adults. Now, there is you, and there is Robert. But then, in your earliest memories...you are halves of the same whole. Your first memories are shared. Names are irrelevant."

"I still don't understand."

"No. But you will. Please. Take the volume. Read. There is a comfortable area over there."

I took the first volume off the shelf and headed off in the direction the creature had indicated. I found warmth and comfort, and settled down to begin to read.

"The first spark of life. The miracle as the seed of man meets the fruit of woman. Husband and wife from different worlds. United for the purpose of creating a child who would grow up to be unique. Special. Powerful. An agent of change and a weapon against their mutual enemy..."

I found myself drawn into the story, and part of me became aware that what I was reading was my own story...and yet it was also the story of another. The contrast was less obvious in the earlier volumes. Perhaps our life was simpler. Perhaps back then we were joined in a common purpose. Birth. A yearning for a mother who abandoned us as infants. Childhood. Prep School. Eton. Puberty. Learning I was Talented. But as we became older, the differences began to show. Our father was the focus of those differences. He rarely spoke of himself, but one night in his study, when I was twelve years old, I realised that there was more to him than he usually chose to show, and I wanted to get to know that side of him. But my other self resisted such things, and we began to move apart.

Matriculation. College. First love. My thoughts were filled with Elizabeth. My cousin, and yet not in the way I understood then. Fighting for her. I felt strong at that point...stronger than my brother...as if he'd given me free rein to fight for him. Winning her. Marrying her. Losing her and gaining a son. My other self loved that son, but I didn't share that love. I felt he should have saved her: there could always be other sons, but there could never be another Elizabeth. But he chose that tiny, weakling of a child. I felt that he had betrayed her.

I looked up and saw the panther lying on the mat in front of the fire, dozing as if it was a house cat. But then it suddenly sprang into action and tore down the library towards the doorway. I saw the door was open, and beyond it I could see another room, and I could tell that something was trying to get in through that door. But Düdesch was defending me from it. I approached, cautiously, but as I did, the panther slammed the door closed, and I saw a single feather float to the ground beside him.

"What was that?"

"That was the enemy. It was trying to reach you. Claim you. It falls to me to defend you until such time as you can defend yourself."

"Why is it the enemy?"

"It is the Creature of Chaos. I am a Creature of Order, as are you."

"So what right does it have to claim me...?" I said, confused.

"I cannot say... you must not get ahead of yourself. Please...sit...you are perfectly safe. I will protect and defend you."

Still confused, I headed back to my alcove and picked up the book once more. As I did, I realised that it was Volume XLI. I hadn't even been aware that I'd finished the other forty, let alone got up from my seat and swapped them over. I crossed to the shelves, and out of interest, grabbed the next one in the sequence, but when I opened it, it was blank. I put it back and took another. Blank. Then I picked out volume XL, and saw neat, handwritten script, telling me once again the story of Elizabeth's death.

"You must not get ahead of yourself," the panther repeated as it rejoined me, "you can always look back, but never forward."

"But memories aren't linear?" I replied, "you remember the damndest things at the damndest times."

"But they are laid down in sequence, which gives them context. The only way to restore you to yourself, is to relearn that sequence, and then you will be able to interpret more ."

"There must be an easier way than this?"

"Yes, but you were injured. Your body is in no fit state to take that route. And it will not be safe for you to return to it until you remember who you are."

"What happened to me?"

"You must not get ahead of yourself."

"Damn you," I replied, and stalked back to the reading area to continue my 'revision'.

*  *  *  *  *

Time was meaningless in the library. I could have been there days, weeks or months. I had no way of knowing. But I worked steadily through my life, and soon I'd lived a hundred and fifty years. More. I also had a better understanding of the library, although my frustration at being limited in the order I read it all was intense. What possible harm could there be to reading out of sequence?

I was putting back the volume I'd just finished (I'd realised that I had a choice of sitting and waiting for them to change in my hands as I finished them, or actually getting up and moving, so I varied the two), when I became aware of footsteps. I glanced over to the reading area, but Düdesch was still dozing quietly in front of the fire, so it obviously wasn't him. But if not him...

Curious, I headed in that direction, and came across a blond man of about my own height and build standing in one of the alcoves nearer to the door. He was flipping through the last volume before the books changed from English to German (why, I still didn't know...Düdesch insisted that it was jumping to the end), and then, as I watched, he put that book back on the shelf and tried to pick up the next one along, with no success. There was something very familiar about him...in his build, his stance, even his style of dress, and I felt I should know him.

"Those aren't your memories," I said, and he turned towards me. He looked to be in his early forties, with pleasant if unspectacular features, and intelligent green eyes. His hair was neatly cut and swept back on the crown, although I had the distinct feeling that it ought to be long and tied back with a black velvet ribbon. But I recognised him immediately. My brother.

"Hello, Rupert," he said with a smile.

"Robert..." I replied, "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," he answered, and I couldn't help chuckling. He felt so familiar, and it was comforting to see another friendly face, "you've had your people worried."

"My people?" I replied. I was unaware I had any people, and to be honest, it was the man in front of me who had my attention, "I'm more interested in your opinion."

"In truth, you've had me worried as well."

He seemed to mean it, and it made me feel good. One can have too much of one's only companion being a panther, even a powerful, telepathic one, and I found myself craving more. Some good, honest to God human emotion which didn't come second hand. The strongest feelings I had felt in all of my otherwise clinical reading had been towards my late wife. Even now, the pain of losing her was the most real thing about the whole experience.

"I understand that it's good to be loved," I answered, a wry smile on my lips, as understanding was very different to experiencing, "and I also know the pain of losing someone you love."

"I wasn't aware that you'd lost anyone you cared about..." he answered casually, almost coldly, as if it had never occurred to him that I might care for someone. What was I like, in his consciousness?

"Elizabeth, of course," I replied, and I felt anger inside me at his dismissive tone, "how could you forget that?"

"Elizabeth was my wife, Rupert, not yours," he answered, an unexpected trace of arrogance in his tone. Did he truly understand so little? I felt my pleasure at some genuine human company draining out of me, like water out of a sink.

"What is this place?" he asked, blithely, obviously not having the slightest idea that I'd been offended by what he'd said. How could he be so dense?

"My memory, apparently," I answered, somewhat tersely, "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."

That caught him by surprise, and I could see from his reaction that the idea that I might have cared for Elizabeth while I was trapped as part of him, didn't even seem to have entered his head. But he didn't seem chastened, just surprised. I looked at him, trying to hide my disbelief, but in the end, all I could do was shrug and change the subject.

"My guide tells me that I need to read everything in this place," I commented.

"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."

As if I wouldn't have thought of that. What kind of fool did he think I was?

"Trust me, I've tried, however..."

And I picked up the first book with a German title, but it was blank in my hand.

"...Apparently I'm not allowed to take a sneak peak the end."

I replaced it and grabbed the one he'd been looking at earlier, but again, it was blank in my hand. It was so frustrating.

"These aren't my memories yet," I explained, "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?" he replied, and once again I felt loss and frustration. What he said sounded so familiar, and yet...

"I feel that I should understand what you just said...but I do not. It's very confusing. Come."

And I headed back down the library to the point I had already reached, and he followed me, although he seemed very wary of Düdesch when I introduced them. After that, we spoke for some time. He even helped himself - and me - to whisky from the small drinks cabinet in the corner. As we spoke, he seemed calmer, more concerned for me, and I did my best to revise my initial opinion that he was an arrogant son of a bitch. After all, he was me, and to insult him too much would be to insult myself. By the time we'd shared a glass, I even found myself feeling that he cared what happened to me, and once again, the warmth of human emotion overcame me, although it was tempered by the fact that I knew he had so much to teach me about who and what I was, but that Düdesch would never, ever let him say any of it. After all, I mustn't get ahead of myself...

Then the mood was broken when the panther sprinted up the library in one of his periodic pursuits of eagles. One day I would understand. Now, at least, I was used to them. Robert obviously wasn't, and rose in alarm, but I tried to reassure him.

"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."

I fell silent for a little while, trying to regain the mood of bonhomie which  had been growing between us over the whisky, but it was gone. I sighed, and put down my glass.

"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," he replied, and his tone was genuinely comforting...reassuring, "difficult... unusual...certainly, but not hopeless. That you're aware enough to have this conversation proves that."

"You may be right," I replied, standing, and hoping he was. The emotion overcame me, and I found myself embracing my brother. We may have had our difficulties over the years, but we were still connected.

"Thank you for caring enough to come and find me, Robert," I said finally, as I stepped back, "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 answered, and I could tell that there was something he wasn't saying. Obviously all was not well between us.

"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..." he replied, and seemed to mean it, "but we'll see."

I offered him my hand, and we shook.

"I'd be curious to know if we're going to remember this conversation later," I commented.

"So am I," came the answer, "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," I 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 said, with a smile, and again, he truly seemed to mean it, although it was as if he'd only just realised it himself.

"Yes, I rather think you would," I said in return, "until we meet on the outside..."

"Indeed."

And with that, he headed off up the corridor, crossing with Düdesch and then headed out of the door. As he left, I made my way back to my seat, the cat sitting beside me, and I continued my reading.

"Do not be fooled by him, Rupert," Düdesch rumbled, as I absently scratched the top of his head, "he is your jailer."

"You said he saved my life?"

"And indeed he did, although deep down he resented the need to do so. He saved you because he was afraid of what would happen to his Creation if you were gone. But what life you have is only yours because he chose to give it to you. To let you be yourself when he finally understood that he had a choice of releasing you, or going mad."

"Isn't this jumping to the end?"

"I have said nothing you will not learn for yourself. But I will offer you one more piece of advice."

"Which is?"

"Should he ever return here, if you can overcome him, then you can take control of his body in the real world."

"Why would that help me?"

"He is walking...talking...breathing... He can walk the Pattern."

"He mentioned that...something about memories."

"If you could take control of him, then you wouldn't need all of this anymore..." he replied, looking around at the library, "you would be free to regain your memories much more quickly, by reclaiming your birthright as a Creature of Order. Would that not appeal?"

"It certainly appeals more than a seemingly endless supply of books."

"Then if the opportunity arises, I will help you overcome him."

"What makes you think he will return?"

"It's in his nature. He is weak. He cares indiscriminately for mortals, but has little enough concern for you. However, he will at least make it seem as if he is worried for you, and visiting you here will be his way of demonstrating that. But don't be fooled. Underneath the friendly exterior, he laughs at you. At your attempts to be more than he decreed you would be."

"But he seemed genuinely concerned about me."

"He is a clever man. He will let you believe what he wants you to believe. You will understand more as you read."

Then he pushed out his forepaws, lowering himself gently to the ground, and moments later he was asleep. Obviously he'd said as much as he was willing to at this point. With a sigh, I poured myself another whisky, and then settled down to tackle the next volume.

*  *  *  *  *

Time passed, until I felt like I had been reading forever, and the more I read, the more irritating I found my brother. He had sanctimonious down to a fine art. The early years didn't seem as bad; at times he drew on my advice and guidance, and I was able to give him the strength to make the tough decisions. But as we became more aware of the reality of the universe and what we truly were, he seemed to draw on me less and less. Indeed, he seemed embarrassed that I was part of him, and except in flashes of uncontrolled emotion and anger, he usually kept me bottled up inside. It was only when he was foolish enough to loosen his grip on me, that I could help him do what needed to be done...for him, for us. But most of the time I was incapable of persuading him that the creed we should live by was that the 'ends truly do justify the means'. Düdesch was right. He was weak and cared too much for mortals.

I began to hate it. He seemed so narrow minded. So unwilling to take chances. So obsessed with 'doing the right thing'. I couldn't understand how he failed to realise that we were more than human - or perhaps worse, chose to forget - and that we had the right to do what we wished. The 'right thing' should be what suited us. Not what suited the weak, pale beings which surrounded us. Father had understood it, and I realised that that was why he had left us, so many years ago. Robert, of course, thought he was dead, but deep inside I knew he was still out there, still active, and occasionally we came across his handiwork, in the form of an organisation I recognised as the Thule Society. But my brother seemed to have a complete blind spot on the subject. He had no idea that father was involved, and he cast the whole thing off as a nest of evil black magicians. His lack of understanding was horrifying.

My resentment built up, fuelled by the fact that as his life continued, he once again found Elizabeth and I was utterly excluded. By then I was so far towards the back of his mind, that when they shared their bodies and their minds, I was trapped as a spectator, watching the woman I loved screwing my jailer, completely oblivious to my presence.

My dislike was fanned further when he began to lay down the plans for the Creation of the Luxor universe. He spoke with Dworkin, the mad old wizard from our homeland, who claimed to know everything about the Pattern and universal metaphysics; and with Brand, the mad genius who had been our teacher for over a century; but Robert's real attitude towards me finally made itself clear the night before he Created. Brand asked him what he planned to do about his "Dark Side", and as they explored the possibilities, I realised that Robert was talking about me. I could feel him planning, scheming, identifying those parts of himself that he didn't like. The parts that I brought to our whole.

That was when I finally understood that that he despised me and what I wanted to be and do, although in his mind, he wasn't condemning a separate being: he didn't even realise I was there. He just thought I was some dark part of himself which needed casting out, and he and Brand came to the conclusion that the Creation of the Luxor universe would offer a convenient vehicle for divesting himself of me. And to make matters worse, Robert decided to project onto me his hatreds of black magic and our father's views of the world...as he had finally come to realise that it was father's people whose paths he'd crossed over the years...so I could make them mine to do with as I pleased.

I sat in the library, numb all over, as I read the words on the page over and over again. The man I had thought cared about me, when he'd visited so long ago, was revealed in his true colours.

"You will be stronger once it's done," purred Düdesch, "read on, and you will see."

Right then, the last thing I wanted to do was read on, but I knew I had no choice. I turned the pages, and read as the Luxor universe unfolded before me. Contrary to my worst fears it was exhilarating, as I felt myself finally being given my freedom, but even as Rupert Delatz became his own being, his own entity, I knew that I was being born of hatred and loathing. I closed the final volume of The Biography of Rupert de Lacy, and sat there shaking.

"How do you feel?" asked the panther.

"How the Hell do you think I feel?" I answered, bitterly.

"Use that when he calls again."

"You still seem so sure he will."

"It will not be long. Please, read..."

"Aren't I allowed a moment's peace?"

"Soon, Rupert. Soon you will have all the peace you want."

Too tired to argue, I crossed to the bookshelf, and replaced the book I was holding with Volume I of my new life: Die Lebensbeschreibung von Rupert Delatz.

I put it down on the table, poured myself a slug of what was now an identifiable 1978 MacAllan, and settled down once more. Düdesch stretched out on the rug in front of the fire, and seemed to doze, but I could see tension in his frame, as if he knew something was coming.

I was just finishing Volume II of my new life, when I felt the stirrings of a Trump call. It took me a moment to identify what it was, it had been so long and after all, I had only read about them in books. I tried scanning my mental Trump deck - something else I had read about - but it didn't seem to respond. Maybe it was elsewhere...or maybe my caller just plain wasn't in it. However, I reasoned that there were probably a limited number of people who were able to call me just there, just then.

"It is him," Düdesch said, from his position by the fireplace, "this is your chance."

"For what?"

"To show him how you really feel."

"Right now I feel angry and bitter."

"I know. And inferior. I detect inferior. Use that. Play this right, and I will help you gain supremacy."

"And what do you get out of it?"

"As you must understand by now, you are my Creator..." he replied, "if you have supremacy, I have a chance to take my true place in the world, and the nation he gave us will have the chance to be dominant. Isn't that just a little bit tempting? Taking your true place and relegating him to the weak, indecisive creature he truly is."

"It's more than a little bit tempting."

"Excellent," he purred, "then play it cool, wait your moment, and I will help you gain your freedom. You can repay him for all those years he kept you trapped and imprisoned. Wait for him in the alcove with the books you have just reached, and I will be there when you need me."

I walked down the library, leaving him concealed in the reading are, and then opened up the Trump contact link.

"I wasn't sure that this was going to work," my brother said with a smile.

"Robert?" I said, feigning surprise.

"It's June 1st," he said, brightly, and I have to admit that his smile was actually warm.

June 1st. June 1st. I'd read about that very recently. As I thought, I had a flash of memory. He and I sitting in a gazebo talking. The first time we'd ever met. I'd waxed lyrical about wanting to remain civilised in our relationship:

"But at times we may need to be allies, both for your own ends, and for the preservation of this realm of ours," I'd said, "We may have different outlooks on life, but is that any reason not to remain civilised?"

How could I have been so naïve? He didn't care about civilised. I was his human refuse dump. Why hadn't I realised it before? Looking back it was obvious that he'd spoken to me with contempt bordering on hatred: how could my old self not have realised that?

"Then why don't we do that by meeting on a regular basis, so we can air our grievances with each other?" I'd suggested in that first conversation, "Tea, once a month, alternating the venue between our lands...Why don't we make it the first of each month?

Right now, I knew exactly what my grievances were. However, first I needed to reel him in. Play it cool.

"Really? Fascinating...thank you for remembering," I answered, neutrally, "however, sadly, I'm not sure I'm in a position to come to you."

"Then if you'll let me..."

It was too easy. Was he really that stupid?

"Of course," I said with a smile, and extended my hand. And moments later, either my brother - or his mind: I still couldn't tell if we were there in mind, spirit, soul or some combination thereof - was in the library with me. I was genuinely interested in what he'd done.

"How did you manage that?" I asked, as he looked around the library, and I saw his eyes light on the area of the shelves which I'd reached in my reading.

"I drew a Trump," he replied.

"Interesting..." I answered, my curiosity decidedly piqued, "how can you draw a Trump of a mental construct?"

"I'm not sure if I've actually drawn a Trump of the construct, or a Trump of your new self. Certainly the old ones weren't working when I last tried them, which isn't totally surprising if your mind is regenerating. How are you feeling? You look to have made progress..."

"Indeed I have," I answered.

"Now, Rupert..." came a quiet voice in my head, and I was aware of Düdesch coming into view behind me, "strike at his mind when he isn't expecting it."

I let myself relax, trying to put my brother off guard, but obviously I sent the wrong cues.

"Rupert..." he said, his tone wary.

"It's a fascinating story," I replied, trying to keep my tone pleasant, but underlying it I could hear my resentment, "Two halves of the same being, trapped in one body, finally separated so that each can follow their own destiny. Except one half imposed his will on the other to mould him, rather than let him be himself and reach his own potential."

"What the Hell?" he replied, looking genuinely surprised at my reaction, but by then, my anger at how I'd been treated was taking me.

"I can't believe how badly you fucked me over, you sanctimonious son of a bitch. You gathered together all the inconvenient, unwanted bits of yourself; every hang-up you ever had about being 'abandoned' by our whore of a mother; every hatred you have of our father and Aunt Sand and their beliefs; and every lousy stereotype you hold about the Thule Society and the NSDAP; called it your Dark Side, forced it to be forever subservient to another, and foistered it on me. You even denied me the chance of having a natural family of my own. By the gods I was naïve to ever believe you gave a shit about me."

"There's more to it than that..." he protested, looking alarmed, his hands moving into a defensive position.

"Really?" I answered, trying to control what I was feeling long enough to focus it, "is there really?"

"You're jumping to the end...you've missed out a third of your life and the changes in our relationship over the last few years, and you're jumping to the wrong conclusions."

The lying bastard. Even now he was trying to deny what he'd done to me.

"How can I possibly be jumping to the wrong conclusions, when all your thoughts and feelings are written here in black and white? What was I supposed to be? A cartoon villain? Your 'evil twin brother'. If that's how you think of me, then fuck civilised. Perhaps evil twin brother is how I should act."

"Now..." urged Düdesch, "give way to your anger. It will make you strong."

I didn't need telling again. I launched a mental attack at him, fuelling it with my anger, hatred and resentment. He was forced back with the power of my attack, and I could see fear in his eyes. But then he seemed to get a grip of himself and tried to fight back, but in the background I could feel Düdesch feeding the power of the Sable Pattern into me. Robert tried to draw on his own power base, but with a flick of his mind, my avatar locked off all access for him. He staggered, and my mind was in his like a knife, and as I struck, the cat sprung and hit him square in the chest. He went down, cracking his head on one of the bookshelves, and lay still.

"Is he dead?" I asked.

"Merely sleeping..." the cat replied, crossing to Robert's fallen form and sniffing it, "as he's doomed you to be."

And then he extended a claw and dug it deeply into my counterpart's left cheek, drawing blood. There was something familiar about the gesture, and I had the distinct impression that it foreshadowed something, but what it was, was beyond me at that point.

"Use the blood as a conduit back to his body. His mind will stay here."

"And I will be free?"

"Of course. But a word of advice. You will be returning to the outside without all your memories. You should rectify that as soon as you can. You need those memories to survive."

"Why? Surely if I'm in his body, I'll be in Sable?"

"But you may not choose to remain in Sable...I think you will miss the challenges your homeland offers you."

"The homeland I had inflicted on me by him," I said, kicking the fallen body.

"But one better suited to your nature," came the answer, "you will be in a position to make a proper judgement once you're awake and moving. Go. Take his body. Enjoy his life for a while...his body isn't doomed to be unable to father children the way he made yours. Walk the Sable Pattern. And you'll be able to decide where you go from there yourself. You can even change his body so that you look as you should, rather than bearing his likeness."

"Patterns restore the memories of the ones which walk them...can I be sure the right ones will be restored?"

"If you walk the Sable Pattern, then your memories will return to you. If you walk any of the others, then his will overwrite yours, even the ones you've been recovering here, and you risk being lost forever."

"Is the same true in reverse? If I walk the Sable Pattern in his body, will he be gone?"

"No...his mind is here. However, the only way I will let him leave, is if he understands the consequences of his actions in the way he treated you when you were manifested."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning he leaves once he knows you as well as you will know yourself. Maybe then he will understand that his actions towards you were inexcusable. Maybe then he will feel remorse for forcing you into certain courses of action. And maybe then the balance between you will be restored."

"Balance?"

"Such that he takes responsibility for some of the harder decisions needed to keep the Sable Universe healthy, and pulls his weight in putting them into action, rather forcing you to do them all."

"I don't understand."

"You will, Rupert, you will. Do you have any last messages for him?"

"Not that I can think of."

"Then go, before he awakens. Take his blood. Use it as a focus. And the gods be with you."

I wasn't entirely sure what to do next, but I knelt beside him, taking some of the blood from his wounded cheek onto my hand. I was enough of magician to know that blood made an excellent arcane connection, so I focused my will on it, tasting it and drawing on what ritual abilities I had gleaned through him. As I did, I felt Düdesch's comforting presence, feeding me strength, and then I felt myself travelling, as if down a Trump link. Then, suddenly, I felt heavy. I gasped, and realised I had taken a breath.

I opened my eyes and looked around me, and realised I was in an office. The place felt real. Solid. I glanced at the desk behind which I was sitting, and realised that it was his. In front of me I saw a Trump card of...myself, sitting in the library...presumably the method he had used to contact me. I took a few minutes to centre and take stock of my bearings, as well as casting a self check to make sure I was okay. Probably the most startling thing was the discovery that Robert's body had initiated to the Logrus, which seemed strangely at odds with the fact that he was a Pattern Creator. And it had to have been since the Creation of Sable, as otherwise I would have seen the memories of that initiation in the library.

I was pondering this particular quandary, when I was interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Yes?" I called out, and to my surprise, Elizabeth walked in... No, I had to remind myself, Elizabeth's newer incarnation. Robert's wife Claire. She was even more beautiful than I remembered, and I could see the gentle swelling about her which stated plainly that she was pregnant. If anything, it made her even more desirable.

"Love, are you alright?" she asked, concerned.

"Of course," I answered, hoping I seemed surprised, not guilty, "Why shouldn't I be?"

"He's here. He's fine. I'm looking at him," she said, obviously not to me, and it occurred to me that she was in a Trump link. I tried searching my mental deck...found I could...and discovered that she was talking to Roland Helgram. But then, he was her brother-in-law, so there was probably no reason for any alarm. Still, there seemed no harm in making sure, and I began to surreptitiously listen in.

"Claire, are you sure?" he said down the link, "the Logrus thinks there's something wrong."

"I'm telling you. He's here and he's fine. Look..." and she glanced at me and smiled.

"As long as you're sure."

"Don't worry. You're being paranoid."

With that, he broke the contact and she came over to me and gave me a light kiss on the cheek. I realised it was the one which Düdesch had sliced open in the library, but here in the real world the skin was unmarked.

"What was all that about?" I asked.

"He was fussing because his Logrus had told him that it had lost his God of Teachers."

His Logrus? Yes, Roland Helgram was a Logrus initiate, but it was the Thelbane version? Or was this somehow related to the unexpected Logrus imprint Robert bore.

"But obviously it's wrong, because you're here."

I stood and put my arms around her. She seemed so solid and I could smell the perfume of her hair. Once again I found myself cursing my brother for letting this beautiful creature die, and saving the mewling, puking kid. But then I pulled myself together, and reminded myself that Elizabeth's death was in the past, and that this wasn't exactly her.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

"With you, always," I replied, "fancy playing hooky for a couple of hours?"

She seemed surprised, but not resistant to the idea. No doubt Robert had occasionally been struck by such urges himself.

"As long as we're careful," she replied. Then she slipped her arm around my shoulder and we headed upstairs.

*  *  *  *  *

After an enjoyable afternoon, we headed downstairs in time for dinner, feeling in a very good mood. In my case, however, it soured rapidly as I saw Andrew de Lacy sitting the other side of the table, but what surprised me was that when he saw us, he smiled.

"Honestly," he said, lightly, "the pair of you are like teenagers at times."

I didn't quite know how to react. There was genuine warmth in his tone.

"I decided to take advantage of the fact that Robert here didn't go and visit his bloody brother today," Claire answered, with a grin, and kissed me lightly on the cheek again.

"Thank Heaven for small mercies," Andrew answered, looking at me, almost challenging me to say otherwise.

"No doubt it will be business as usual once he's up and about again," I replied, which I hoped sounded suitably neutral, and settled down to dinner.

"Sadly, you're probably right," he answered, with a sigh.

As we ate, I realised that however simple Düdesch's plan had sounded in the library, out here in the real world, in my brother's body, it was going to be far from easy. There were people here who loved and cared for him, and moreover who knew him very well, and I realised that I was going to have to draw on his memories as well as my own, to try to pull off the deception. Moreover, the concept of having someone love me, and needing to love them in return...all of my experience in that area was in the memories I shared with him. Rupert Delatz did not strike me as a man capable of truly loving anyone but himself.

And of course, there was another problem. In my library of memories, I had barely reached the Creation of the Luxor universe. How far behind was I? I began to understand why he was keen that I should walk the Sable Pattern as quickly as possible, to fill in the remaining blanks. But what justification did the King of Sable have for visiting the Wewelsburg?

"Robert, you're very quiet," Andrew commented, as he polished off a particularly good chocolate mousse, "is something wrong?"

"Just thinking," I answered.

"Fancy a game of billiards later?"

I considered for a moment, but realised that there was no way I could maintain my cover in the company of the mewling, puking kid.

"I have some things to finish off," I answered, with a shake of my head, "another time?"

"Sure...it was just a suggestion," he replied and ordered coffee.

"Talking of which...if you'll excuse me."

"I'll see you later, love?" Claire asked, catching my hand as I rose.

"I could be a while...don't wait up for me," I answered, and then made my way back to Robert's office.

At least the layout of the palace was graven in my mind from when he had been designing it, so I was spared the embarrassment of having to ask directions. I poured myself a drink...The MacAllan of course...and then wondered to myself, why "of course"? Rupert Delatz was German. Why was his favourite drink malt whisky? Was that actually my preference, or yet another 'gift' from Robert? Still, when I took a sip, I found it to be good, and realised that what had been in the library had only been my memory of what it really tasted like.

I settled down at his desk and started flipping through paperwork, and as I picked up what appeared to be a security briefing, and looked at the date, I realised that the task of remaining concealed within Robert's body was going to be harder than I thought. Over a hundred and fifty years had passed since the handful of memories I'd read in the library. I had to get to the Sable Pattern.

I had a memory of setting up the defences on the Sable Pattern chamber so that a Sable Pattern initiate of higher than usual skill could jump straight into it, as long his or her blood was keyed to the staircase lock, which must have been planning for the future because as far as I remembered, only person who qualified was myself. Except that I'd discovered even before we'd met in the gazebo for the first time, that Robert's blood could also open that lock: his blood was similar enough to mine that he could unlock the staircase. I'd resolved to fix that flaw, but I had no recollection that I had actually succeeded. Of course, that was apparently 154 years ago, and I'd have been pretty remiss not to have done anything about it in that time, and I didn't seem like a remiss kind of person, but it had to be tried.

I brought the Pattern to mind - making certain I used one of the manifestations that he would be likely to use, rather than the Sable Pattern with which I had most familiarity - remembered the Pattern Chamber, and jumped. However, I bounced off the defences, and found myself in the Crypt. I cursed my own efficiency as I heard alarms, but knowing my own style of such things, concentrated for a moment and they were quickly silenced. Of course, it was possible that some bright spark would come and investigate anyway, which meant I potentially didn't have long to either force the staircase open, or get the Hell out of there. I opened a wound on my hand and dipped a few drops of blood onto the keystone, just in case, but to no avail. It remained stubbornly locked.

I had to get away, and I realised I could already hear booted feet on the staircase down from the Gruppenführersaal. Bringing up the Pattern would take too long, which left a Trump. But where? Where did I have in my 150 years out of date mental Trump deck which would still be sufficiently unchanged that I could get there? Both Millbank and the Town House on Terra Magica needed the Pattern to reach...that I knew from Robert. Where else? I was blundering in the dark.

"Freeze right there," came a voice from behind me, "raise your hands and turn very slowly towards me."

I did as I was bid, to see saw a good looking and suitably Aryan young man wearing the uniform and insignia of an SS Standartenführer. He seemed vaguely familiar, but I had to admit to myself that I didn't have the slightest idea who he was. A quick check on an arcane level did identify him as a Black Pattern initiate, and at his belt was the Honour Dagger of a Knight of the SS. I also noted a diamond shaped unit patch on the left sleeve of his uniform, with the initials RD on it. SD I remembered, but RD?

He was accompanied by two others, wearing the same unit patch, and all three of them had firearms trained on me. That didn't worry me particularly, as firearms didn't work in the Reich. But it did lead to the nagging suspicion in the back of my mind that if they didn't work, why were they carrying them?

"Your Majesty?" he said, genuinely surprised, and I noted that his tone wasn't hostile. I was definitely missing something if the appearance of the King of Sable in the SS Crypt didn't give rise to anything more than surprise.

"I need your help," I answered. After all, if my brother was familiar here, maybe the young man would listen first.

"How?"

"I need to get downstairs."

"I'm afraid I can't do that, sir," he answered.

"What if I ordered you to?"

"I do not take orders from you, Your Majesty. I only take orders from the RFSS."

I thought for a moment, trying to remember what I knew about Trumps. Did they connect to the mind, the soul, or the unique combination thereof? Robert had drawn a Trump which had reached me in the library, but I still wasn't actually sure whether it was just my mind in that place, or my soul as well. I debated handing the Standartenführer that Trump, but that also raised the risk that it might now contact my brother, rather than me, as he was in the library and I wasn't.

"What would I need to do to convince you to help me?" I asked.

"You could start by showing some indication that you have the slightest idea who I am," he replied, challenging me to answer, in the obvious expectation that Robert of Sable would know the answer. And of course, I didn't. I suspected that just reading his name tag, which I saw identified him as Schultz, wasn't quite what he had in mind.

"Let me down to the Sable Pattern, and I'll be able to answer your question," I replied.

"Circular argument," he answered, and gestured for his companions to take me into custody. They moved forward to flank me and indicated towards the staircase.

"You would arrest the King of Sable?" I asked, surprised and actually rather impressed at his gumption.

"If I had any certainty that you were actually the King of Sable, then no."

"You're a Pattern initiate," I commented, "maybe you can tell that I am as well. That I reached this place using the Pattern? Or perhaps, if you cannot, then you presumably know someone who could."

"I can think of one or two people," he replied, "but you haven't given me a good reason why I shouldn't throw you in the cells first."

"Because it would be highly embarrassing for you to do that? Think of the diplomatic consequences."

He considered for a few moments and then he indicated for his people to halt at the bottom of the staircase, although they certainly didn't let up their guard.

"Wait here. Don't let him out of your sight."

Then he headed upstairs, leaving me with the others: Geiger and Waldemar apparently, according to their ID tags. A couple of minutes later, I heard two sets of feet on staircase: one booted, and one I guessed wearing shoes. Schultz arrived first, followed by the first familiar person I had seen since I'd arrived, albeit he was in civvies, rather than the uniform I would have expected, and he looked slightly older than I remembered.

"Conrad," I said, in relief, "thank God."

Conrad Berthelmes looked at me with some surprise, and then turned his regard to Schultz.

"This is the man I was telling you about. He claims to be a Pattern initiate. I was hoping you could confirm it."

"Understood," Conrad answered, then turned to me, "kindly don't resist."

"It's in my interest not to," I replied.

And I felt him bring up the Pattern. He concentrated for a few minutes, and then looked decidedly puzzled

"He's definitely a Pattern initiate...a very good one...which excludes the possibility that he's a Machine duplicate..."

A what? What the Hell was a Machine duplicate?

"But?" Schultz asked.

"But I'm not entirely sure it's Robert of Sable either. Something feels decidedly off."

Schultz's men didn't move as their superiors looked at me, and as they did, I realised why Schultz had seemed so familiar. The resemblance between them was subtle, but undeniably there. Father and son?

"I said it was a long story," I replied, meeting their gaze, and beginning to feel irritated, "and the Sable Pattern will help me explain. If you'll just let me near it."

"Summarise, then we'll see," Conrad replied.

"I am Rupert Delatz. I believe I had some kind of accident, as a result of which I was trapped in my own head. And now I've managed to escape."

"As Robert of Sable...?" Schultz asked, incredulous.

"Correct. His body came into my possession, so I took advantage of that."

"How?"

"Via Trump."

"It would explain what I saw earlier," Conrad commented, and I almost breathed a sigh of relief, "which of course begs the question, where is the real Robert of Sable?"

"Presumably my body is around here somewhere?" I asked.

"Upstairs, in your quarters," Schultz replied.

"Then I would guess, Robert has taken up residence in there."

"So the King of Sable is lying unconscious in the Wewelsburg," Conrad replied, "that is not good. Not good at all."

"Why not? Surely having him as our prisoner is a good thing. It means we have leverage over them."

"On the contrary, I can't think of a quicker way of blowing the Armistice between our two realms to Kingdom Come."

"What Armistice?" I asked, and could see surprise on both their faces.

"The Armistice the Reich signed with Sable about two months ago..." Conrad answered, and I looked at him in genuine surprise, "you were there. Your signature is on the bottom of it."

"Right now, I'm tired, confused and missing great chunks of my life as a result of the accident," I answered, "I want them back."

"Which is why you want to walk the Sable Pattern?" Schultz suggested.

"Exactly."

Schultz looked at Conrad who considered for a moment, then nodded.

"Alright. We'll escort you downstairs. But try anything stupid and Rikart will kill you. Clear?"

"Crystal."

Then, as I watched, Conrad reached under his suit jacket and brought out a Knight's Dagger. What the Hell was Conrad Berthelmes doing with one of those? He was Wehrmacht, not SS. However, he walked to the keystone, slit the side of his left hand, and let the blood drip. It disappeared, and the staircase opened. He started down first, followed by Waldemar, then myself, then Geiger and Schultz brought up the rear. As we walked, I heard Conrad cast a healing spell on his hand.

We walked down in silence, although I was very aware of Geiger's handgun in the small of my back. The first wrong move, and assuming the thing worked, I would lose my kidneys. However, I wasn't planning on making any wrong moves. I was as good as gold. We reached the bottom of the staircase, and moved towards the Pattern Chamber door, and Conrad turned the handled and opened it. The sight of the Sable Pattern filled me with indescribable relief.

Conrad entered first, followed by the rest of us, and he indicated towards the start of the Pattern.

"Go ahead," he said, obviously trying to gauge if I was serious and was willing to essay the design.

"Thank you," I replied, and moved quickly in that direction. And then, without allowing them time to change their minds, I dampened down Robert's Logrus imprint under a shroud of Pattern, and began to walk. Almost immediately the memories started coming, and I began to shift. As I walked, I could tell that the memories coming to me tied up with what I'd read in the library, although as I proceeded, I realised that I wasn't seeing everything in quite the same light as I had in the books. The memories the Pattern was giving me seemed more solid...more three dimensional... more balanced.

Once I'd made it through the Second Veil, my life as Rupert Delatz began to come back to me. Forming and moulding the Reich. Chafing that my brother had given rulership of my country to his son Wilhelm, rather than me Getting my revenge on the muling, puking kid for killing Elizabeth. The creation of the Nexus and the Machine. The various near-disasters which had been averted over the years. The discovery that one of my most trusted lieutenants wasn't even truly human, but an implacable enemy hiding in sheep's clothing. The much more recent experience of another subordinate trying to kill me, and my plans for taking my revenge and striking at the Machine in the process, showing me the fact that I loved my country sufficiently that I would be willing to take such a risk on its behalf. Of course, I hadn't been foolish enough to walk the Pattern that day, and so the outcome of the ritual was unknown to me, save that it had obviously left me in my current position.

There was so much...I had done so much. And what probably caught me most by surprise, given everything I'd read of my captivity within my brother's head and Düdesch's insistence that I'd been given the rough end of the deal, was that the Wilhelm issue aside, which admittedly was a big aside, I had enjoyed that life. The Third Veil opened my eyes further. I had a family. Children. I'd worked very hard to achieve them, helped by my father, but they existed and I cared deeply for them. Even the one I had had to let go to save his life. I had a beautiful wife...not Elizabeth, of course, but someone I'd come to love at least...and she certainly seemed to love me... I had mistresses who were quite happy to do pretty much whatever I wished, a regiment of loyal subordinates (although it seemed my judge of character was a little off if two of them had decided to betray me), and a church which genuinely worshipped me as a god. I was both loved and feared, and it made me feel good.

Robert had been right, damn him. Düdesch had encouraged me to jump to conclusions. To miss out the fact that my brother and I had developed a mutual respect over the last couple of years, and that when he had said he cared for me, that first time he'd come to the library, he was telling the truth, even if he'd only just realised it himself.

When I finally reached the centre, I was exhausted, and I was furious. I had been played for a fool and I'd been far too happy to be played. Back when my manifested self had first met my brother, I'd been the one who'd said things should stay civilised, and here I was, standing in his body, having attacked and imprisoned him. That was about as far from civilised as I could have got, short of stabbing him through the heart and sending him home to regenerate.

Moreover, I realised that had I walked any of the other Patterns, it would have been my memories, not his which would have returned to me...I wouldn't have been lost forever...so in that respect, Düdesch had out and out lied. He'd specifically wanted me to walk the Sable Pattern, and I hadn't regained enough knowledge from the books to argue with him. But why? The only reason I could think of was because of the way it influenced those who walked it. Additionally, I realised that whereas before, it had influenced those who walked it to follow me and owe me their loyalty, now its focus had changed to influencing them to being faithful servants of the Reich, rather than owing their loyalty to any specific individual. As I considered this, standing there in the middle of the Sable Pattern, I detected the 'hand', as it were, of the corrupting influence I had brought here from Manira, as being behind the change.

What had Düdesch, or if not him, whoever had set this situation up, hoped to gain from fanning enmity between myself and Robert, especially now the threat from the Machine had shown us that Sable and the Reich needed to put old hostilities aside and ally against a common foe. Had he, she or it felt that I had drifted too far from the vanilla Reich beliefs, as had been Sigiswald's motivation for betraying me at the Treaty signing and trying to kill me? Did they believe that Robert and I had become too cosy, and wanted to both drive a wedge between us, and remind me that the Reich should come first in one fell swoop? Even put me back on what it considered to be the right path?

I glanced back towards the start, where my escort were standing, and saw Schultz raise his arm in a smart salute. I told the Pattern to jump me to them, and Schultz seemed relieved.

"Thank the gods, sir," he said, with genuine warmth.

Conrad, however, looked less than thrilled.

"You have a problem," he commented.

"You would not believe," I answered, trying to sound light about it, "which one were you thinking of?"

In answer, he brought up an illusory mirror and held it up for me. I looked at myself in it to see my usual face staring back at me, rather than Robert's.

"Laying aside any difficulties about the fact that you should be unconscious in your rooms upstairs," Conrad replied, "what are Sable going to do when they discover their King has disappeared? And that we're behind it"

"You're assuming I can't change back to look like him. Apparently I'm quite a skilled shape shifter."

"Which piece of information I still wouldn't recommend you spread around too freely, even if Dominik has managed to get you legalised."

"He's done what?"

"You are now a legally registered shape shifter, Herr Reichsführer," Schultz offered.

"How?"

"Obergruppenführer Gerlinde had to perform an emergency medical procedure: causing you to become a shape shifter was the only way to save your life," Schultz answered, "at least, that's what your Forstapo paperwork says, so I'm told."

"Which, while potentially useful for the future, is not relevant to the current problem," Conrad commented.

"Which is?"

"Assuming you can change yourself back to looking like Robert de Lacy, how long do you intend to play that particular part?" he asked, "Sable isn't a nation of fools. And even if they were, my brother Andrew isn't. They're going to realise that something's wrong. Possibly very quickly."

"I reckon I can keep up the act for a couple of weeks or so," I replied, "the only other option I can think of is to somehow change 'my' body to look like his and leave it where they can find it."

"And when they put forensics mages on that, to find out what the Hell happened? Which they are bound to do?"

"Genetically, he and I are identical but for one small detail which I would be willing to bet wouldn't be noticed by a forensics mage. It took him and I a while to identify it. Equally, as far as Powers are concerned we are identically matched ...up to and including the Logrus, apparently, although I'm still getting my head around that one. And moreover, I've played this game before, and I know that if I put my mind to it, I'm confident that I could set things up so the only forensics mages who could find out what really happened are Robert and I."

"It's a Hell of a risk," Conrad commented, "and you need to be aware of the consequences if you're discovered."

"What would life be without risks," I answered, with a half smile, "Rikart, do you have any views?"

"I believe you're needed here," Schultz said, quietly, "as yourself, as soon as possible."

"Why?"

"The balance here is fragile. Your...accident...means that certain parties have spent the last month jockeying for position to take over from you, and there are certain elements who may resist your return once you are officially up and about again. It has been...difficult."

"While I don't disagree with Rikart's assessment," Conrad commented, "I would maintain that the problem of Sable misplacing their King is more serious. Somehow, he needs to be returned to them. If you're confident that you can fool their investigators, then perhaps it should be tried."

"I'm confident," I answered, "now I remember what I can do. And with that done, then given what Rikart has said, I'm inclined to lie low in plain sight, here in the Reich, to draw out the troublesome elements."

"So you'd what...pretend to be comatose and see who does what?"

"I only need to pretend to be comatose when anyone's watching," I replied, "the rest of the time, I can observe what they're up to through other means. It might be highly educational."

Conrad considered for a moment, then nodded.

"It might at that. Although you may be surprised at what you learn...not all of it is going to be comforting."

"I'm not so far gone that I can't deal with those who would threaten me," I replied, "Rikart. Do you think you can help with this deception?"

"I know the Guard will keep your confidence, yes. I trust them. But what about the Herzogin? Do you intend to tell her? She's been distraught and the children have been worried."

"I rather think her reaction needs to stay genuine. I'm not sure how well she would be able to act the grieving wife if she knew I was alright."

"As you wish, sir," Schultz answered, his tone neutral.

"You disapprove, Rikart?"

"It is not my place to approve or disapprove, Herr Reichsführer. Forgive me."

"Please, say what you wish," I answered, looking at him. I could see him thinking about it, before he finally answered.

"It's just that at times I'm not sure you give her credit for what she can and cannot do. After all, before she came to the Reich, she did rule a country in her own stead, and played politics with the best of them. She's nobody's fool. And she loves you. She would never intentionally harm you or your interests."

"I never thought she would. I'm more concerned about her giving something away unintentionally."

"Please, sir. Have a little faith," he replied, with a slight bow of the head.

"Alright. I'll consider it," I answered, "and now, I guess we need to go to wherever the body currently holding my brother is and I need to deal with figuring out how to get him back to Sable."

"It's in your quarters," Schultz replied, "perhaps if it would be better if I went up first with Marius and Kurt...no-one will blink an eyelid if we go in there ...and once the coast is clear, I'll Trump you to us from the Crypt. That way, no-one sees you who shouldn't."

"That makes sense," I answered, "let's head upstairs.

And we headed back up the stairs to the Crypt. Schultz and his men departed, leaving Conrad and myself alone.

"How do you intend to do this, Rupert?" he asked, "figuring out a plausible reason for him to have collapsed unconscious in his office without it obviously having been an attack is not going to be easy."

"My brother drew a Trump of the library where I was trapped. I intend to use that. Make it look as if he tried something with the card, but it went wrong and he ended up caught."

"Are you good enough with the cards to do that undetectably?"

"I think so. He and I are about as good at it gets within the Sable universe, and while I suspect there are other Trump experts, with what I intend to do, it would need to be someone better than me to pull off discovering what I've done."

"And you're confident that Sable doesn't have anyone who could do that?"

"I'm not aware of anyone..." I began, and then recalled the conversation I'd had with Robert about the Armistice, and how he'd implied that there was another major Trump player in the game...one who by Robert's own admission was better than him, and therefore, by extension, better than me.

"Rupert?" Conrad asked, obviously spotting my uncertainty.

"Blast. There is someone. I just don't know who it is," I replied, slowly, "let's hope they're sufficiently concerned about my brother's wellbeing, that they don't look too hard at the card."

"That's one Hell of a risk."

"I'm well aware of that, but what else can I do?" I answered, "and on the bright side, then maybe he or she can get Robert out of the library...because right now I don't have the slightest idea how to do that, and I feel somewhat responsible for his predicament."

"Seriously?"

"I was played, Conrad. I attacked him on flawed information, and when he wakes up, he's going to be justifiably pissed at me."

"And yet we can't afford for him not to wake up."

"Not in the longer term, no. And moreover, I'm told he saved my life and then made sure I got back here after my...accident. So I owe him."

I think Conrad was about to make some further comment, when I felt the stirrings of a Trump call. I checked my deck to confirm it was Rikart, then opened up the link.

"Are you ready?"

"We are," I answered, and extended my hand to him, and he pulled Conrad and myself through to him.

I looked awful. I lay on the bed, pale, sallow and probably two stone lighter.

"What actually happened?" I asked, "I obviously didn't have time to walk the Pattern on Beltane, so those memories are still lost to me."

"You successfully completed the ritual, and took Sigiswald's Death Curse to the Machine," Schultz answered, "however, as a consequence, your body and mind were badly damaged. Robert of Sable returned you to us. Since then, until today, you've been as you see..."

"Thank the gods I'm not stuck like that any more," I replied, and he nodded, "although when he realises, if he comes after me - which I rather think he might, and with a certain amount of justification - try not to break him too badly, Rikart."

"I understand, sir."

"Good. Now, what I'm going to do next is probably going to be somewhat disturbing. I need to make my body look like him."

"Sir, after the heart transplant Obergruppenführer Gerlinde performed on you, I'm not sure anything to do with shape shifting is going to disturb me again," Schultz answered, and I actually saw him smile.

"I look forward to hearing the story. Now..."

"You need blood and red meat. It's being dealt with."

"I'm impressed," I replied, with a chuckle. Moments later, he received a Trump call, and the pre-requisite provisions were passed through by Waldemar, who followed just behind.

"Then I guess I'd better set to work," I said, and sat beside my own body and began to shape it to look like Robert's. I knew his physiology as well as mine, and I'd worked with his genetic material before, so while it was tiring, it wasn't a difficult task. Moreover, the steady supply of protein made sure I didn't overtax myself. I didn't even need to particularly trick his system so that it wouldn't revert back to looking like me because he wasn't concentrating on it. Robert's appearance was genetically accurate for the body: if truth be told, mine is the mask, albeit that I have worn it for so long now, that it has become second nature.

By the time I had finished, he was lying there, on the bed, and I was confident that my work would be undetectable to all but a geneticist as good as me. Then I began to work on the Trump. I got it out of my pocket, and using my abilities in that area, I modified it using the kind of techniques which would make a Trump trap, such that it seemed as if Robert had used it to make contact with my mind, and had become trapped within it. As if he'd been drawn into my coma by his actions.

"Nice job," Conrad commented.

"Feel free to see if you can detect which of us it actually is."

He brought up the Pattern and concentrated, and after a few minutes, I felt him pull the lens down again once more.

"I can't tell."

"Excellent. Then I'd better take him home. Rikart, if you could clean up the mess..."

"Yes sir."

"I hopefully shouldn't be long. I'll Trump back to one of you."

"Rupert, be careful," Conrad answered, and I smiled.

"I'll do my best."

And with that, I brought the Pattern to mind, consciously making sure it was the Terra Magica manifestation, rather than the more familiar Sable one which I drew on, and sent the lens across to Sable to check that Robert's office was still empty. Thankfully, it was. Satisfied, I jumped back there, again, using one of the light manifestations to do so, and carefully positioned his body so that it looked as if he'd just slumped over his desk. The Trump I placed in front of him, resting his hand on it. I then switched the rings I was wearing for his, and vice versa - making sure the mage signet on his finger was a Sable one, not a Reich one, and regretfully surrendering his wedding ring for mine. Then I did a little obfuscation, such that it seemed as if he settled down, concentrated on the Trump and was drawn into it. My own presence I hid to the best of my ability.

Once I was finished, it was time I left, before someone came looking for him. So I once again brought up the Terra Magica Pattern and jumped back to my rooms. I guessed time would tell if I was going to get away with it.