The Black Zone/House Helgram
Mid-November
Since a conversation with Dieter, some while ago, I've known that Artur was my seventh son, but until now I had only pinned down the identities of five of the six who precede him. In honesty, given the bereavements suffered by many of my kin under Eric and Caine, and the fact that I'd found no trace of the missing one (younger than Wolf and Adam, older than the others), I'd rather come to the conclusion that he'd died during the Civil War. But as it turns out, I couldn't have been more wrong.
Not only is he alive and well, but he's also a fully-fledged Lord of Chaos - shape shifting, Logrus and all. Jowan Daveth-Helgram. Son of Elowen. Grandson of Daveth, the Helgram Master of the Arcane and Dybele Hendrake.
We had first been introduced during a meeting of the Helgram Cabinet: one of the few Bleys has called since becoming Grand Duke. As the Helgram Rep in the Black Zone, Jowan is one of the House 'department heads' and therefore qualifies for a seat on what passes for the House governing council.
The first time we met, what I noticed about him, was his eyes. Blue with the devil dancing behind them, just like Bleys. He was so obviously a close relative, it was uncanny. Once I looked past that little fact, I saw that he definitely cut from the Helgram cloth, unlike me. He came across as competent, professional and level headed, and given his position of responsibility, I assumed that he was at least of an age with me; maybe even older. It didn't occur to me that he might be my missing son.
I'd liked him. He seemed to have his head screwed on straight, and he had more drive than many of the Helgrams I'd get. But I didn't really expect to have that much to do with him, except on House business. However, I met him again a couple of weeks later, up in Welksham, which surprised me somewhat. When I'd spoken to him in Helgramways, I'd got the impression that he was no great fan of Amber, and especially the desire by various of the Family to meddle in the Black Zone. However, he was present when Geran, Alexander and I rebooted the Font of Life for the Mountain People, and offered support and energy, while we conducted the ritual.
After that, my people had told me that that he'd actually been to Amber City once or twice, and met some of my cousins. But I hadn't seen him in the flesh again until the other day in the Zócalo.
The other day in the Zócalo. Hmm. Where to even start?
A standard ritual consult, I suppose. Patrick called me it after finding some ritual bits and bobs that he couldn't identify. And with him were my nephew Wendell and Jowan. I thought then that Patrick and Wendell looked at Jowan and I rather oddly when I first arrived, but it didn't occur to me why. So I did my thing, and we chased down the perpetrators of the problem they were investigating. The Order of the Crossed Sabres.
And I'd been going out of my way to try to give them the benefit of the doubt in the whole Alcazar/Morningstar Ways debacle. So much for that.
We took their leaders back to the Zócalo Fortress and asked them some pertinent questions. Their men were coat-racked and put on ice, and the weapons they had smuggled in were confiscated and given to the Zócalo garrison. It seemed only fair. In the course of our discussions, we learned that they were working for a son of Alcazar's, Samuel FitzHenn, to try to seize control of the Zócalo, which is apparently built on a mystically significant strategic location. Something to do with ley-lines and inherent power, although neither they nor Wendell knew the exact details. Jowan was in their way, so they hired the assassin to remove him. However, during the conversation, one of them dropped in an odd comment about my son. I couldn't think which one he was referring to, so I asked for clarification, and he pointed straight at Jowan.
"Your blood is compatible," he said, "he is a High Blood, and has been promoted too fast by Bleys for him to just be a normal Helgram, so Samuel had it tested."
My first thought was where the Hell did, get a sample of my blood from, given that knowing what you can do with that strong an arcane connection to someone, I try very hard not to leave it lying around. I can see that I need to do another remote-destruction ritual sooner rather than later.
And Jowan was even less happy at the implications of nepotism.
"As far as I'm aware, I was promoted because I was good at my job. Not because of who my family are. I don't even know my father."
My second thought was that the prisoner was just trying to buy his own life with bullshit. And then I caught my nephew's expression, and accompanied by his complete lack of comment, I realised that he knew more than he was saying about the whole thing.
Could it actually be true?
It wasn't something I wanted to discuss in front of the prisoners, but I decided that neither Wendell nor Jowan would stop me revisiting the subject later.
Once we'd got what information we could, it was generally agreed that Jowan should be the one to pass sentence. After all, he was both landlord and target. Wendell did check if the incident counted as espionage or a mere police matter, but given that the Crossed Sabres guys were actually planning to take over the Zócalo, it was a pretty easy choice to go with espionage. And more to the point, they had ritually murdered one of our cousins to get the power to do it, which was definitely another black mark against them.
What I didn't expect was that Jowan would carry out the sentence as well, albeit with a bit of support from Patrick. However, his body language and tone when they disappeared with the prisoners - to "strip and dump" them in the grave of the cousin they'd murdered - and his lack of remorse when they came back put me in mind of some of the things I'd had to do when I was in the SOE. But when had Jowan been in that situation? What had happened to him in the past that gave him the ruthless edge I had just seen?
I will admit, when we'd first met, I'd wondered how he'd been the one to end up running the House's interests in the Black Zone. Of course, I'd noted the 'wise beyond his years' look in his eyes that so many of us have once we reach our first or second century, and assumed he was rather older than his apparent age of somewhere in his mid-30s. However, if he really had lived the SOE kind of life, and had so few qualms about dealing with problems personally, and permanently if necessary, that would certainly give him some useful skills for life on the wild frontier.
They were away for about half an hour, during which time I commandeered somewhere more comfortable than a cell for the conversation we needed to have when they got back, while Wendell bolted for the bathroom. It obviously hadn't occurred to him that there wasn't going to be any bloodshed actually there in the Fortress.
When they found us again, Jowan was just finishing up a clean-up spell to remove an assortment of mud and gore from himself and his clothes, causing a somewhat green look to cross my nephew's face. Patrick was doing something similar, but looking at the state of the pair of them 'before', I guessed that Jowan done the executions, while my brother had just helped to bury the bodies. Once Jowan had cast the spell, he looked as fresh as a daisy, and I was left with the impression that he wasn't particularly bothered about the fact that he'd just executed two people in cold blood. Albeit two people who had paid an assassin to kill him.
"Is there something we need to know?" I asked, turning to Wendell.
"Well…" he began, looking somewhat embarrassed. It was obviously a question he didn't particularly want to answer, although to his credit, he did at least continue, rather than try to drop the subject. "…At the Academy, there was a lot of gossip that you and Jowan were either brothers, or father and son. There's been a lot of speculation going on for a long time. You're both slightly different to most Helgrams, for starters, plus you both have the odd powers."
Interesting. Did Jowan really have odd powers, or is it just that we both have the ability to do what needs to be done, and to dispense field justice where necessary, which aren't common within the skillset of your average Helgram
"I did a small ritual to see if Jowan was a brother of Dad's, but it came out negative," Wendell continued, "However, I remember Crossed Sabres types visiting Helgram and doing a lot of research about three years ago. Helgram royals and the nobles have their pictures everywhere, so it was easy. Mostly they researched dead Gaius which is stupid cause he's dead."
"Only in body," I said with a sigh, thinking how much Lucius liked to act like his previous incarnation, "go on…"
"They even stole Gaius personal items from his old mansion in Helgram."
"So I'm something to do with Gaius?" Jowan asked, obviously not enamoured of the idea, but Wendell shook his head
"You and Ian look more similar than either Ian and Patrick, or even Ian and Gaius. Gaius only liked to be seen with redheaded women - his only known son Icarus is a full redhead."
"Like me," Jowan commented, "I'm a blue-eyed Helgram redhead. Ian definitely isn't."
"I've never had time to check," Wendell answered, apologetically, "but all you need to do is get a paternity test. And that way you will know for sure if you're Ian's son or not."
Still uncertain, Jowan turned to me.
"Anything you want to tell me?"
"Not that I'm aware of," I answered, "but presumably you're in the House records, right?"
"Mother, not father. Mother never declared who my father was."
I didn't realise that I'd vocalised the "Ah crap" until it was already out of my mouth, and by then he looked so uncomfortable that asking him who his mother was, on the chance that I actually knew her, would have been like kicking a puppy. I gladly took the bottle that Patrick offered me and took a drink, then passed it on to my probable son who followed suit. Then looked back at Wendell.
"Can you check with us both here?"
He nodded, although he didn't seem very happy about it, and set about doing a ritual using blood samples from both of us. I made a point of not taking my eyes off them. I followed in my own way, and knew as soon he did that the prisoner had been telling the truth.
As Wendell revealed his findings, I realised that I was actually okay with the idea. More than okay perhaps. However, I could tell that he was far less certain. Off to one side, I heard Patrick's congratulations, and then he toasted us, before giving Jowan a pat on the back. I'm not sure Jowan appreciated either the sentiment, or the gesture.
Was I really that bad a person to have as a father? Or were his concerns more to do with the target that would get painted on his back the moment the news became generally known.
"Okay," I asked him, "so what now?"
"This is going to take some getting used to," Jowan said, finally.
"Been there," Patrick commented from the sidelines, sounding encouraging, "but it'll grow on you. I went from social services brat to son of the King and having real brothers and sisters."
"Did you never want to find out who your father was?" I asked Jowan.
"My mother obviously never thought it was relevant…" he answered, and I felt like he'd slapped me…which I think he noticed, as when he continued his tone was more conciliatory, "either that, or she didn't want it publicly known, given who you are. I guess I need to ask her. I suppose it explains why I was a slow learner as far as shape shift is concerned. Maybe it also explains why the Logrus drove me crazy for so long. You're an Amberite."
"Actually, three-quarters Chaosian. But you're right. I don't shift. I'd like to learn one day, but I'm not sure when I'll get a chance"
"The Logrus is a pain in the butt for me," Wendell commented, obviously trying to sound sympathetic, but I had the impression that he wanted to be miles away right about then, "I am rather awkward with it."
"Maybe it comes with practise," I offered, then turned back to Jowan, "What do you want to do? Do you want to change the House records?"
"I don't know," he replied.
I suppose I could understand that. After all, being my kid isn't without its baggage. But I will admit, I was still disappointed at his lack of enthusiasm. Still, there was no point pushing things.
"Let me know when you decide," I suggested gently, "and if that's what you want, I'll make sure the paperwork gets put through. And if you just want to talk, then my card is in the Helgram deck."
He nodded, then looked at the others. "I'd rather this didn't get spread around just yet."
Thankfully they both agreed to keep his secret, for now at least, and I saw an expression of relief cross his face. Knowing these two, though, whether they would manage it was anyone's guess. Still, that seemed like a good point for me to beat a hasty retreat. Jowan's life had been turned upside-down enough for one day.
I said my goodbyes to three of my apparently closest relatives, and then headed out of the Fortress to the gate which connected the Zócalo to the Helgram Marketplace. However, I still wanted to find out who his mother was. I made my way through to the Long House (the Helgram admin department, off the Central Nexus), and sought out the office of my cousin Dhugal, the Helgram Keeper of the Lineage.
"Your Highness…" he said, somewhat surprised when I turned up on his doorstep, "how can I help you?"
"I was hoping I could check something in the records."
"Of course. Do you have a name?"
"Jowan Daveth-Helgram."
"Our esteemed Black Zone Rep?" he asked, and he didn't even sound sarcastic when he did, "what do you want to know about him?"
"Primarily, the name of his mother. Although I'd also be interested to know how old he is."
"Age is rather flexible," came the reply, "what with timeflows and everything. Why the interest?"
"I've met him a couple of times, and he strikes me as an interesting young man, so I was curious," I replied, which was mostly even true.
"Well, the first question is simple enough to answer. Her name is Elowen, and she's the daughter of Duke Daveth and Dybele Hendrake."
A Hendrake connection explained a lot. Wendell had said Jowan was a bit different most of the House. A chunk of Hendrake in his make-up, as well as two sets of Barriman genes from my parents, would certainly mean he was cut from a different cloth than many Helgrams.
"Are you sure?"
He gave me one of those looks that says "are you really asking me that question?"
"Sorry," I answered, "of course you are."
"Is there a problem?" Dhugal asked, obviously curious.
"No. it just surprised me. I hadn't realised she had a child."
"So you know her?"
"We were introduced at the Institute of Magic and Science, a couple of months ago," I answered.
And yes, there was more to it than that, but I didn't feel like sharing all the details with the House Genealogist.
She'd been calling herself Ellie David when we met in autumn 1962. She was a hospital doctor in Madrid, long before I'd claimed Tenterden and closed it to passing traffic, and I was brought in after I'd been caught in the crossfire between the Fascist police and Communist rebels. I was in the hospital for a couple of weeks, during which time we had connected, probably because subconsciously we recognised that we were different to everyone around us.
The three-year affair we embarked on after I was discharged was my first long-term relationship since Audrey had died, and it would have led to more if it hadn't been ended by an explosion which had wrecked the restaurant where we were having dinner. I was pulled out with a broken back and other serious injuries, and by the time I was on my feet again, she was presumed dead by the authorities. I grieved for her, and eventually moved on, but I was left with many regrets about what might have been.
Not knowing anything there was anything outside Tenterden, it had never occurred to me that she might still be alive. However, I'd met her again on one of my early trips to Helgramways. I'd recognised her immediately. She had hardly changed in the intervening years. It took her a little longer, as she'd known me in my Mikael Cuijper guise, not as Ian Cushing. But she got there in the end. When we met for coffee the next day and caught up, it was as if we were continuing the conversation exactly where we'd left off.
But seeing her after so long was both wonderful and difficult, and she'd never said anything about having had a child, let alone my child.
"He was born here in House Helgram on 22nd December," Dhugal continued, pulling me out of my reverie, "around the time of the War between the Powers, and the Civil War in Amber. If I remember rightly, with training here in Chaos and his own travels in Shadow, he's somewhere in his 70s.
"Anything unusual about his trips into Shadow?"
"He had a bad experience when he was very young, and I know Elowen was worried sick about him. He had to be rescued from a very bad situation by all accounts. He was one of the last people that Duke Stephen managed to save from the Rilgason/Karm psychopaths before his own death."
"So Jowan was probably one of Caine's victims?"
I was horrified, but maybe that was the key to what had happened in the Zócalo.
"He certainly swore out a vendetta against the man as soon as he was recovered from his ordeal, citing personal injury and non-consensual ritual abuse."
"Well, hopefully Caine isn't going to be a problem to anyone for much longer."
"I'm sure that news of his death would earn free drinks for a year for whoever cuts the bastard's throat."
"So what else?"
"He spent several years back here, learning to shape shift and getting involved with the House. He eventually walked the Logrus, but it nearly killed him, and he was crazy for a long time afterwards. I think Duke Daveth thought for a while that he'd never recover. But he defied the odds. He disappeared again for a while after that, though."
He looked at me and smiled.
"From your interest, which if you'll excuse me doesn't seem entirely impersonal, I assume you've heard the rumours."
"A couple of different ones have come to my attention, yes."
"So do you have any great insights on the subject? An insider's view, so to speak?"
"Not that are mine to share, no."
"Ah well," he said with a shrug, and then chuckled, "I guess I can't claim the win in the sweepstake then."
I looked at him surprised.
"There's a sweepstake on who Jowan's father is? I didn't think that was something he'd shown any interest in."
"He might not have. In fact, thinking about it, he went out of his way not to. But since you started coming down here, a lot of the House have got curious about how you two are related."
"Great."
It sounded like Jowan wouldn't be able to keep his secret very much longer, however much he didn't like the idea.
"What I don't get, is where this 'oh you two are so alike you must be related' thing has come from," I continued, "he looks 100% Helgram and I really don't."
"This is Chaos," he said, with that knowing look I sometimes get when I haven't understood something about how the House works. Sadly, I'm going to be playing catch-up for a while yet. But then he looked a bit more sympathetic.
"As you'll come to understand, we see resemblance in terms far more than just appearance. It's in outlook, attitude, body language, even personality to a degree."
Then he smiled again.
"And of course, genealogy and gossip are two of our national sports, along with CRF."
"CRF?"
It rang half a bell from the aftermath of the mess with Yanick Caineson, which Wendell, a lad named Lorcan, and…gods help me… my grandchildren had helped to sort out."
"Chaos Rules Football…don't tell me you haven't been to a game yet?"
"Not yet."
"We'll have to fix that. Especially as you're entitled to the best seat in the House: the Grand Ducal box."
"If I ever get a spare moment. Although someone will probably need to teach me the rules."
"Easily done. On condition that you don't try to get your revenge on me by trying to explain cricket. That just has to be some kind of mystical ritual."
I chuckled, and wondered how to get my own back for that comment.
"Is there anything else I can do for you?"
"No. That was it," I answered, offering my hand, "I appreciate your help."
"Fair enough," he replied, accepting it and giving it a decent shake, "I'll let you know the date of the next game, and get the tickets sent up to you in the diplomatic bag."
"Thanks," I answered, and then headed out.
I made my way back to Central Nexus, slightly at a loss of what to do with the information I'd just been given. But in the end, I supposed the best thing I could do was absolutely nothing. Jowan wouldn't want me interfering. Although I hoped that he would eventually accept my invitation and come and talk to me. But time alone would tell, and in the meantime my best bet was to give him a couple of weeks to come to terms with it all, and decide what he wanted to do.
Time to go, I think, before I started more rumours if anyone realised who I'd been to see. I dug my Trump deck out of my pocket, and made my way back to the other end of the universe.