1.
A
Chance Encounter (Three Years
Earlier)
A wealthy New England couple
that had adopted him shortly after his birth, had given him a fairly typical
upper class upbringing, and, of course, had sent him to an Ivy League college
was the only family Ambrose ever knew.
Deep sorrow, upon their untimely death in a private plane accident
while en route to a retreat in Colorado, did not prevent him from successfully
continuing his adopted father’s business – investment
banking. While only 24 years
of age, his wealth and connections made him accepted in the highest echelons
of society. Standing 5’
11” tall, of athletic build, handsome with medium-length wavy dark hair,
fair skin, and piercing eyes of a golden color – a natural charmer –
he was assured of a brilliant political career if he so
desired. But he knew that was
not his true calling. From an early age he had a taste for arcane knowledge,
and searching for more of it occupied his every hour free of studies, then,
and of business now. Many a
weekend, dressed in his favorite outfit – jeans and a leather jacket
– he spent at flee markets and antique shops looking for old artifacts,
rare books, and odd curiosities, though he was never sure what exactly he
was seeking. Until one day, in the late fall.
He was mulling about a small
flea market in the western part of his native state of Connecticut, when
he noticed a small crowd by one of the
stands. At the center of attention
was a petite redhead, seemingly in her late teens, dressed in a dark brown
broomstick skirt and a baggy pullover of green
wool. She held up a piece of
paper and was making some kind of
inquiry. Her features were delicate
and of exquisite beauty, but that was not what set her apart, perhaps her
bearing, which was… regal – there was no other word for it –
or perhaps it was an odd feeling of her somehow being out of place and out
of time. Quite intrigued, he jostled his way toward
her.
“Hi
there. I’m Ambrose,”
he smiled broadly. “I come
here fairly often, so maybe I can help you?”
“Ohh... this is all very
confusing. I’m trying to
find an artisan to transfer on metal this… hmm…
ornament. Doesn’t seem
as such a hard task... but... no one knows anything about
it.”
Up close he could see that it
was not a sheet of paper she was holding, but a fragmented ancient parchment
that contained several cryptic lines similar to Celtic artwork, and if indeed
authentic would be worth a fortune.
“You might start with a
few photocopies, then you wouldn’t have to carry it
around. It seems rather old
and perhaps easily damaged.”
“Hmm... a photo
what? Is it on metal?”
she asked hopefully. A man next
to Ambrose shook his head and started toward another
stand. The crowd was quickly dissipating.
“A photocopy, on paper,
yanno. You can get some made
at Kinko.”
“Ahh… but you see,
I already have it on paper in case you haven’t
noticed.” She spoke patiently
with no hint of sarcasm in her voice, as if she was talking to a child.
Not often was he talked to like
that, but he suppressed his annoyance.
“Well, they might know of someone who does etching work, and
a spare copy never hurts.”
She considered
briefly. “Hmm... I
suppose... Where would I find
that... ugh… kinky?”
“I can lead the
way. Where’re you
parked?”
“I’m
what?” A quick grimace
on her face changed into a faint smile.
“Oh... I see… I
sort of... hmm... walked to here.”
He could not help wondering where
from. “It’s a rather
long walk to town. I can give
you a ride if you like.”
Her smile grew into a much shinier
one, although he had a definite feeling that this all gratitude and delight
expression was well rehearsed and
prepackaged. “I’m
Ele… ugh… I mean Elizabeth
Corey. Oh, well… you can
call me Ele, I suppose, and I would be very grateful indeed if you take me
to kinky.”
When they walked up to his car,
she just stood there as though she was not sure how to get into
one. Doubtless she was one of
the quickly diminishing number of women who still appreciated good manners,
so Ambrose opened the passenger door for her before getting in
himself.
“Gotta buckle
up. It’s the law,”
he sighed and then continued after a pause, as she seemed to completely ignore
his comment.
“Really. They stop
people for it and driving a red Ferrari doesn’t make them less inclined
to.”
Long lashes moved up just a
bit. “Hmm... then I suppose
we’d better stop on our way and do that.”
“Your family’s Amish,
isn’t it?” Ambrose asked casually while buckling up his own
seatbelt. Attentive eyes followed
him from under half-drawn lashes.
She did not strike him as being of a shy type, yet she clearly avoided
direct eye contact, for whatever reason, so he still could not catch the
color.
“Hmm... Don’t think
so. Our House is…hmm…
different.” She pulled
down the seatbelt on her side and was attempting to fit the buckle into an
ashtray.
“Umm... shall
I?” Not waiting for the
answer Ambrose leaned over and buckled up her
seatbelt. If not Amish, she must be from some other weird rural
sect. Most probably nearby if
she could walk to here.
She kept silent, and preoccupied
with the scenery as though she had never seen it before, and seemed neither
concerned nor excited when the car pulled onto a fairly deserted state highway
and speeded up to about 140 mph.
He slowed the Ferrari down to a normal speed when they turned off
into town.
“Greetings,
shopkeeper! I’ve an image
of great consequence in here to be… hmm... transferred,” she announced
to a scrawny man who came to attend them at the Kinko’s
counter.
“I can make copies for you,
Miss. Or do you need it faxed
or e-mailed?”
“Hmm...
which one of these options will produce a result on metal?” She asked
thoughtfully.
“We’d like three color
copies and a high resolution scan
please. Start with the
scan.” Seeing the look
on the clerk’s face Ambrose felt it was a good time to step in.
Her small elegant hand hesitantly
parted with the parchment and slid under her long sweater’s hem from
where it reappeared shortly holding up to Ambrose a large gold
coin. She must have had a small
purse or a wallet attached to her skirt’s
waistband. What bewildered him more – the coin or long impeccably
manicured nails painted in a deep blue color – was hard to
say. Rather doubtful that the Amish or their like would allow
this. To think of it, if she
were indeed of some rural sect it must run a full line beauty
parlor. The face of mother of
pearl complexion did not bear a trace of cosmetics, but her eyebrows were
painstakingly plucked, her long smoldering hair was well brushed and trimmed,
and a scent of unknown to him but exquisite perfume was perceptible but not
overwhelming, just right.
Evidently, she misinterpreted
his silence. “Not
enough? I have a few
more…”
“No…no, Ele, more than
enough, it’s just that most merchants don’t accept
gold.”
“I didn’t bring any
jewels...”
He chuckled although he was not
at all sure that she was jesting.
“Don’t worry about it, my
treat. Incidentally, where did
your parchment come from? The
design is fascinating.”
“It… hmm…stayed
in the family for… hmm... rather a long
time. Dad has this idea that
perhaps he can make a dagger for me with this ornament, but I don’t
really think it’s gonna
work.” She rolled her
eyes. “True, he used to
have a sword of this kind... but… hmm... it was rather unique and had
been forged well before even his times.”
“So your
father’s…ugh... the leader, I take it?”
She shook her head
sadly. “He used to be but
he’s sort of retired now since Uncle Caine killed
him.”
What an odd way to put
things… “Your
father’s dead?”
“Ooh... no… not at
all! Neither is Aunt Deirdre,
though I’ve never seen her.
Guess she’s still mad at
us… It’s Caine who
got shot dead later on and not like the first time when he’d just
reappeared, but for good… and served him well,” she pursed her
lips.
Ambrose, feeling his face reddening
under the stare, however sympathetic, from the clerk who had just returned
with the copies and a diskette, hurriedly paid for the merchandise, grabbed
Ele’s hand and almost dragged her outside.
“Wait…wait!
Lemme look!” He let go off her hand and silently handed her the copies
and the folded parchment, which immediately disappeared under the sweater
along with the gold coin.
“Fascinating... so you can put a picture into there and have
several as a result?”
“Yeah, basically that’s
what photocopiers do.”
“Why can’t they just
put a metal sheet in it and have a result on
metal?” For someone who
had never seen a copy machine it was actually a rather intelligent
question.
“This is the wrong type
of equipment for that, Ele…”
“Why didn’t we go to
the place with the right kind?”
“Because there is none
around. That’s what the
scan’s for. We’ll
e-mail it to a place that has etching equipment so they can do a custom etching
for us.” Ambrose retrieved
the copies, regained the hold of her hand and started out toward the car.
“Where’re we going
now?”
“My home if that’s
alright. We’ll look up
on the net a company that does etching work from
images.”
“We’ll look with a
net???”
Ambrose just
chuckled. “You’ll
see. Buckle
up.” Apparently she was
a fast learner. She managed
the seatbelt on her own this time.
Her eyes opened wide when the
car pulled into a driveway of a large estate and finally he caught a glimpse
of them.
Gray! But so piercing…
no, more than that… stabbing… icy cold dagger
blades… He shivered
involuntary, not so sure any more that it was a good idea to make acquaintance
of her in the first place, not to mention bringing her to his
house.
He glanced
cautiously. The daggers withdrew
behind the long lashes and she was once again just a girl, though a very
strange one indeed. Perhaps
it was just his imagination.
“You live in
here? This is absolutely
lovely. You must be from a…
hmm... distinguished family, highly positioned at
court.”
He
grinned. “Wealthy at
least. I was
adopted.”
“What happened to your natural
parents?”
“I don’t
know. I was never
informed.”
She was looking around the hall
very carefully, as if trying to memorize every detail, while she followed
him to a well-equipped computer room.
Ambrose pulled out two chairs at the nearest workstation, gestured
for her to take a seat and started typing when a well-dressed servant entered
to inquire of refreshments.
“I’ll have a glass
of red wine… something old and
full-bodied. You do have some
nice…hmm things in here... though... their purpose isn’t
apparent...”
“This is a computer
room.”
She made a funny
grimace. “Ah, that’s
exactly what I’ve thought.”
Shortly he finished the search
and picked up a phone.
“We’re in luck, they’re open on
Saturdays.” He started placing the
order. “On what
material?
Steel?
Bronze?
Aluminum?”
“Steel,
definitely. The finest blade
steel they’ve got.” She
giggled excitedly.
“Will be here by morning
with the courier.” Of course,
the price was astronomical. Well,
it would have been for someone else. But he rarely looked for bargains
anyway. He was finished with
e-mailing the scan by the time the servant came back with wine.
“We don’t really need
to stay in here any longer. Would
you like to go to the den?”
“Yeah...
sure.”
He let the servant conduct her
to the den, staying behind to make a brief phone call to his friend Todd
to cancel their evening fencing session.
By the time he entered she was stretching on the wide ottoman looking
comfortable and sipping wine while watching the brightly burning
fire. He could have sworn there
had been no wood in the den’s fireplace in the morning, and the weather
being unusually warm he had not asked to put any
in. Most probably the servants
had taken care of it on their own.
He shrugged it off and took a seat on the edge next to her after a
momentary hesitation, but she did not seem to mind, apparently enjoying the
wine and the evening, and, he hoped, the company.
“So tell me about yourself,
Ele. What is it you
do?”
“Hmm...
I read a lot... and I work in my garden, and Dad… hmm... teaches
me things.”
He nodded, thinking that it made
sense if indeed she had been raised by some sort of a
cult.
“I don’t go anywhere
much,” she sighed.
“I’ve been to your…Shad… err... place before,
to a city called New Jersey... but only once.”
He nodded
again. Apparently her father
did not extend much effort on geography.
“And what did your father
do before he retired?”
She thought for a brief
moment. “He was deeply
involved in the family affairs.”
She paused. “But
they all were against him... Bleys, Corwin, Deirdre, Flora… even
Fiona. Yeah, just imagine that
– Fiona! Ooh, and His Majesty,
Random, of course.”
She frowned with much contempt
and reached for the bottle on the floor to refill her
glass. He was still sipping
his first one, but the bottle was going
fast. “Ahh, enough of it,
what about your family?”
“My adoptive parents died
a few years back, Ele.”
“They died like…hmm…
permanently?”
“Yes.
That’s what usually happens when people die, you
know. Though some people believe
that the sprit’s reborn in a new body.”
“Dunno why anyone would
want a new body... Just look
at Flora... she had her body for like hmm... forever... still looks great,
yanno... That’s not to
say that Fiona looks bad of course!”
“Ele, what’s your
family’s religion?”
“Religion?
Hmm… We’re
supposed to believe in the Unicorn.”
“The
Unicorn?”
“Well, I personally kinda…
dunno… feels weird… especially that part about the Unicorn... hmm...
making love to my great-granddad. I always wondered about
that. Just don’t tell
anyone. Dad kinda doesn’t
like to discuss these things...”
“I can see
why. Perhaps you need to take
your medication, Ele.” Ambrose
sighed. The girl was friendly,
attractive, intelligent, and not a
golddigger. Just had to happen
that she was mad as a hatter.
“Take my
what? I wouldn’t mind more
wine... but I’ve no idea about any
medication. Unless it’s
some kind of a ritual we must observe...like buckling
up.”
“Umm, well you know... the
pills your doctor gives you...”
“I think Dad was a doctor
once, somewhere around here even... but he never gave me any
pills...”
“Well I think you need to
see a psychiatrist. You’ll
feel better.”
“Yeah,
right! That’s what he
was! A
psychiatrist! That was when they kept Uncle Corwin locked up... somewhere
around here... hmm... what was that place... Bedlam, I
think…”
“Ele… The Bedlam was
not quite around here, not to mention they closed it down a couple hundred
years ago…”
“Ohh… it was way before
that… But some things
aren’t clear I must admit… there’re lots of books in Dad’s
library but he doesn’t like me going there... unless I sneak in at
night. He made me learn your
language though... which by now I see the wisdom of.”
“Our
language? What language do you
speak?”
“Ooh, quite a few
actually. Languages are very
important – one never knows where one might
walk.”
“Well I’d think that
you’d know where you walk to...”
“Of course, I always know
my next turn, but after that things start changing
around... Like getting in here,
yanno. Dad said it’d be
a good practice... but that place on the way, where they had all that talking
grass was like little wild. I
mean it whispers to you as you walk on it…”
He reached and took her hands
in his. “Ele, grass
doesn’t talk or whisper.
That’s a delusion.
Would you please go with me to see a doctor on
Monday?”
She
giggled. “Don’t you
think I told it that? But it
still kept whispering.”
“The doctor will help you
stop seeing these disturbing visions, and will help you to understand that
when people die they stay dead... and maybe help you to remember who you
are.”
She abruptly withdrew her hands
and got up with visible annoyance.
“I know perfectly well who I am.”
“Who are you
then?” Their eyes met and
he felt the daggers…
“Mwilsa
Elekthra b’or a k’ena
Bareemen.”
“I am Elektra of the house
of Barimen,” she repeated in English in the same low voice, almost a
whisper. “Royal Princess
of Amber.”
He sighed weakly and very
sadly. “I like you a lot,
but... but you’re not well, Ele...”
“I’m well enough to
take you for a walk…”
“To see the talking
grass?”
“There’re even stranger
things in Shadow.” She
extended her hand. “Come
on! See for
yourself.”
“In
Shadow? Hmm… Alright.”
He put his jacket back on telling
himself she was not violently insane, and not dangerous, and looks could
not kill anyway. Along the long
hall she ran outside with him in tow.
“What’s in there to
the left of the house?"
“There’s a stables
among other things, why?”
“No… no… there’s
a little pond there and a bridge over it...”
She kept pulling
forward. It was already getting
dark. They walked the bridge
over the pond, which had never been there... into the twilight… into
an alley of an old park… branches joining into a roof over their heads...
soft rustling of leaves blown in the light wind...
“This isn’t what’s
here!” He rubbed his
eyes. Had she drugged the
wine?
She brought a finger to her smiling
lips. “But it is... this
and much else… there is everything in Shadow.”
… Into the
fields… Tall grass up to
their knees – he almost expected it to start talking but this one did
not… Up the hill to the
top, where she kicked off her shoes and ran downhill so fast that he could
hardly keep up… Toward
a white two-story house under old oak
trees... An enormous wolfhound
snarled at them baring teeth of polished steel, but quickly recognized its
mistress and barked in delight wagging its long feathered
tail… Around the house...
Through a rose garden… large blooms on tall, branched
bushes... To a white
gazebo...
There, in the perfect moonlight,
Elektra of the House of Barimen stopped at last and let go off his hand and
slowly turned to face him.
“Welcome to the Shadow of
my Desire.”
