Winds That Will Be — Aedan's Journal
"Is It Okay to Say 'Shit' in Front of the King?"
Aedan's Journal. Pre-Game Session. 4-23-00.
© 2000 Todd Worrell
I took out the card, squinted at it. Always start at the top, Caine said. The contact came soon enough.
"Hello?" he said.
"Hi," I smiled.
"Who are you?"
A good question, I thought. Neglected, lost, angry, hollow, pretending—the list goes on and on.
"I'm Aedan," I told Random, King of Amber. "I'm Deirdre's son."
Caine had taught me to say that. I was too young when she left to remember her as anything other than "Mom." She left me alone in that barren, lonely place, my home.
Caine had taught me many things, some of it on purpose. I could defend myself, although it was usually a waste of time. Strike first, and you will never be struck. Find your balance, he said. By that point I was usually in mid-leap forward. Yeah, Caine was my teacher. I was his best student. I was his only student.
I was a terrible student.
Be patient. Patience is for the old, waiting to die. Why waste time contemplating life when you could be living it?* * *
He extended his hand; I took it, and stepped forward into my heritage. It was dark. We were on a balcony off a bedroom. Insects chittered in the distance. The breeze smelled vaguely of salt air. So this was Amber.
"What's it like being King of Everything?" I asked him.
He thought a moment, sucked on his cigar. "Busy," he exhaled.
He was shorter than I expected. Random, Ruler of the Universe, was scrawny, like me, but more densely packed. That doesn't make sense, but it describes him pretty well. He was sitting on a balcony overlooking a garden at night. A lamp on a table beside him illuminated a few stacks of parchment weighted down by some small rocks. Clad in a dark robe, his slippered feet resting on the balcony railing, he didn't look very majestic.
"You don't look very majestic," I told him.
"But you," he half-closed his eyes and skewed his head at me, "look enough like Deirdre." He grinned around the cigar. "Corwin's gonna be surprised to see you."
Corwin. Caine had told me about him. Aside from the usual Trust No One crap, he had told me that Corwin had liked my mother—a lot. That, plus he was a total bastard, self-serving, and a lush. He didn't sound boring.
"Where were you? On a ship? It looked like Caine's stateroom."
"It was," I answered. I leaned up against the balcony railing.
"And is that where you got this?" He held out a hand for the Trump card. I handed it to him. Random examined it, then nodded.
"Yes," I said. "I suppose I should give it back somehow."
He chuckled, then snorted in amusement. "Oh, that'll be fun. I'm sure Caine will be happy to see you."
"You don't think he will?"
"Did he tell you to steal his trump of me and visit Amber?" he asked.
"Nah." Random gave me a look of expectation, so I elaborated. "He said that this place was 'off-limits.' All of my relatives were 'worthy of only your suspicion and fear.' Should I be afraid of you?"
"Do I look frightening?" he grinned. Sitting there, late at night, poring over paper work he looked, well, like a librarian.
"Not particularly," I admitted.
"Hunh," he grunted. We sat in silence, he with his cigar; me with my impudence. From somewhere inside the castle I heard soft footsteps receding.
I took out my flute and showed it to him. Black wood, purple veins, silver keys. It was my best work.
"Caine said you played the drums. Do you know how to play any 'musical' instruments?" I handed him the flute.
In response he riffed out some phrase from of a dead man's baroque nightmare that made the hair on the back of my neck stand out. I would have to take him to the Bone Orchard.
"Oh shit!" I exclaimed. "Cool."
He nodded appreciatively at the flute and handed it back to me.
"Uh, is it okay to say 'shit' in front of the king?"
"You just did," he said.
Yeah. I had. Well, things weren't much like Caine had described them. I looked out over the gardens. They were well-kept, but spilled out over the paths in a kind of cultivated wildness. Moonlight danced on a shallow pool. The ground fell away from us as if to remind me that Kolvir was a mountain. I was on Kolvir, in the castle, talking to the King of Everything. Me.
"Show me the Pattern," I said.
"Right now?"
"Well…."
"Yeah, you'll walk it." Random lowered his feet from the railing. "Let's go."
I crossed my arms in front of me and looked at him. He was grinning again, or maybe it was the same grin. Maybe he knew something I didn't.
Ah, seven Hells. We could talk on the way.
"Sure, I'd like to see it."
"And walk it." The king pointed his cigar at me.
I shrugged and stood up. His maj followed suit. He gestured and I preceded him through the doors and into some sort of antechamber. It was dark, but not too much so. I paused and he fell into step beside me. We walked down through the Halls of Amber toward the fabled Pattern. It must have been the middle of the night, for most of the rooms were dark and empty. I saw only guards.
We stopped at the stairs. There were a hell of a lot of them—more than the eye could see. Only one side was braced by a wall. The other side was a leap into the abysmal depths.
"Isn't there a lift?" I asked.
"Nope. This is it."
"Lotta stairs."
"Yep. I like to think of it as a warm-up." A puff of cigar smoke.
"Huh." I started walking.
"Or a test," he finished.
I kept walking. "Hey," I said. "Maybe we could stop by the kitchens and get some food."
"They'll have something at the guard station below."
"Oh. You know, I think maybe I should see the rest of the castle first—during the day. Is there someplace I could crash tonight?"
"Yeah. I'll have some servants make up one of the suites. You can see the castle tomorrow, or the next day."
I hesitated. "The next day?"
"Well, you might be a bit tired."
Caine had told me how exhausting it could be to walk the Pattern. He said that my first time I should be well-rested, well-fed, and mentally prepared. For once, it sounded like good advice. "Uh, hold on a second."
We stopped descending, and I sat down on a landing. "What kind of food?" I asked Random.
"Whatever you want."
"There's a pantry down there?" I pointed down at the dungeon.
"Oh, no. I thought you meant the kitchen."
"I'm pretty hungry."
"They'll have something."
I got up. We resumed our descent. The stairs disappeared into the darkness below. I hoped we were at least halfway.
After the better part of an hour, we were at the bottom. I shook my legs.
"All warmed up?" Random inquired.
"Yes, your majesty."
"Good, good. Not much further now."
A few stone tunnels, a guard station sans food, some rats, and the dank smell of unpleasant oblivion later we stood outside a large oak door braced with serious iron.
Random had taken the key from a guard. He unlocked the door and pushed it open. A pale blue witchfire glow spilled out. "After you, nephew."
I went inside. The Pattern Room would hold several of Caine's ships side by side, masts raised. It was the largest cavern I had ever seen, lit up with an electric blue that made shadows dance on the uneven walls and, impossibly, across the smooth floor. I don't remember walking toward it, but I must have. I found myself kneeling near an outside line. Random stood next to me and stared out over the field of cobalt sparks.
The Pattern. The source of Order. The Grand Cosmic Doodle. It sang in my blood. Or so I had been told. What if I weren't really Deirdre's son?
Random seemed to read my mind.
"Any one not of the Blood who touches it dies instantly. Incinerated." He raised an eyebrow and looked sideways at me. He took the dying cigar stub out of his mouth and flicked it across the design. A quick burst of witchfire and it was gone. "Poof. Goodbye."
I stood and tried to swallow. My throat was very dry. "You probably don't have a problem with garbage disposal here," I quipped.
"We could install a chute directly overhead," he agreed, "run it up to the kitchens."
"Yeah," I agreed. "and hang a rope from it for people to grab on their way down."
He looked at me.
"For people who don't want to take the stairs," I elaborated. "It could be another kind of test."
"Miss the rope, spontaneously combust?" He smiled.
"Sure." I stood.
"I'll look into it," he nodded slowly in that kingly way that means no. He clapped his hand heavily on my shoulder. "Just remember: don't stop."
"Yes, well, I was think—"
"Slow down if you must, but don't stop." He herded me around the edge.
"What if we do this tomorro—"
"And don't try to pace yourself. Give it all you've got, start to finish." His hand tightened on my upper arm, squeezing me toward him.
"I'm not really—"
"Caine tell you about the Veils?"
"Yes, but—"
"Good, good. Keep pushing. You're an Amberite, kid; you've got hidden reserves. Don't think you're not going to make it. You will." We were almost at the beginning.
"Hey, I have an idea—"
"Oh, and Aedan?"
"Yeah?" He stopped us. We were there.
"I'll hold your flute." He extended his open hand. I gave it to him.
I took a deep breath, then another. Cerulean flames leapt about and hungered for my blood. I wondered where my mother was, and what she had thought about her first time in this ancient chamber of death and destiny. When I saw her again, I would ask her.
I stepped forward onto the sparks. Maybe I'll tell you about it someday.
* * *