3.       Lady Fiona of Amber.

Using his vast wealth and connections, Ambrose initiated a nationwide search, but neither private eyes, nor his FBI contacts could find a trace.  Of course, several girls named Elizabeth Corey turned up, but none of them bore even a remote resemblance to his peculiar gray-eyed guest.  He almost convinced himself that his experience was no more than an exotic dream most probably induced by something that had been put into the wine, but deep inside he knew that something had happened, it was just too vivid.  Weeks were turning into months, months into years, and with passing of time the urgency of the matter somewhat faded as it always does.  Eventually he returned to his previous lifestyle, including trips to flea markets and antique shops on weekends.  It was in one of those antique shops, that while idly looking through what seemed to be an old Tarot deck, he was struck by a card depicting a petite woman in a lavender gown, with long smoldering hair framing a delicate face of mother of pearl complexion.  He almost dropped the card, his heart pounding, blood rushing into his face.  Elektra!  Of course, he bought the deck for some ungodly amount, a proprietor having taken full advantage of his obvious excitement.  The old man could not, however, tell how the deck got into his shop.

He spent many a sleepless night in his den, which did not change much since her visit almost 3 years ago, studying the cards.  Most depicted people he did not know, in outfits that looked medieval, some on horseback, some armed with swords or daggers.  A few depicted strange unknown places, seemingly not of this world.  But it was Elektra’s card that he spent most of his time with, again and again recollecting every smallest detail their meeting or just staring at the image, intimately familiar to him now, as if trying to cast himself beyond the glossy surface…  And one particularly nasty and stormy summer night the card responded.  He suddenly felt it turning cold in his hand, then the image momentarily lost its clarity while obtaining dimensions and then…

…There was a woman in a black evening gown standing with her back to him, so he could only see the waves of free-falling red hair and her statuesque figure.  His heart jumping, he tried to make a sound, but it died in his dry throat as she turned.  Under a steady gaze of large green eyes it became very clear that she was not the girl he had met at a country flea market.  What a fool he had been to not see the difference!  Or perhaps he had simply convinced himself there had been none.  The lady’s hair was shiny and neatly brushed, her makeup was impeccable, and her face – of breathtaking beauty.  However, it was apparent that she was deadly tired, perhaps she had not slept for a very long time.  She also looked rather annoyed.  He felt a strong presence in his mind, searching his memories, the very essence of his being, and fought the rising tide of a mindless blind fear.  Then a calm, melodic voice clearly resonated in his ears though she never moved her lips.

“I’m Lady Fiona of Amber, the only true reality as opposed to Shadow in which you dwell.  I’m also an aunt of Lady Elektra, who’s apparently left quite an impression on you.”  Her smile did not go further than her perfect teeth.

Somehow he managed to introduce himself, though he had no idea what is going on.  The image was very clear in his mind and he had no doubt in its reality, but how?  His heart was still racing but he had calmed down enough to pay attention to the surroundings.  Fiona was standing by a white Formica table. Apparently she had just put down a plastic tray holding a turkey sandwich and a paper cup with black coffee.  The brightly-lit room was very large and contained many more similar tables – some of them occupied by quite ordinary looking people dressed mostly in white or light green garb.  Suddenly it downed on him what this place was and he could not tell what was more bizarre – Fiona’s formal attire or the fact that no one paid any attention to her.

“Oh, I must see the King shortly, so thought I’d get a quick snack.”  Fiona’s second smile was as thin as the first one.  She seemed to easily read his mind.  “Not as Random ever minded a mini-skirt, but we must keep appearances nowadays.  They all in here got used to me by now anyway… more or less.” 

Right, she was a lady of something, so there must be a king…  Were all the questions he ever had to be finally answered?  He had always known they would be eventually…  By a professor in his books-filled study, or by an old wizard in his dark cave, or by a green-skinned witch under the moonlight…  Certainly
not by a black-tie-event dressed woman somehow talking to him from a hospital cafeteria…  This must be just a bad dream after all!

“Anyway, young man,” she continued.  “The reality of your world is… hmm... not quite real.  There’re many more parallel worlds, an infinity of them actually.  None of them is real either.  Only Amber is.  All the rest, including your world, is what we call Shadow.  We’re those who can traverse Shadow at will.  One of the means by which we do it is called a Shadow Walk.  We can take Shadow dwellers, such as yourself, along if we so desire.  That’s what occurred when you met my niece.  Remember? “

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...

Fiona seated herself at the table, elegantly smoothing the long skirt of her gown.  “Of course you do.  So now tell me all about it.  What else do you remember?”

She moved the tray with food toward her.  “I’d of course expect Ele to have a Shadow of her Desire, but the contents of it… how curious.  Who would’ve ever thought…”

It did not really surprise him to still hear her talking while she was biting on the sandwich.  Her lips had never moved in the first place. 

“It’s been... a long time, and it was like a dream, but I remember there was a gazebo and a pleasant night and not a great deal more of it, really.  Truth be told, I remember the other parts better, like how odd she was and how little she knew about things, and that odd engraving she wanted made...”

Fiona was sipping coffee from her paper cup, listening.  She made a rather funny grimace when he mentioned the pleasant night and that made her look much younger, so her resemblance to Elektra was indeed remarkable.  Just how old the lady might be?  Mid-thirties perhaps, no more than that.  He wished he could read her mind with the same ease as she was reading his to see if she appreciated his discretion.  Something apparently caught her interest though, as she put aside her half-eaten sandwich and coffee and the green eyes flamed again.  He suppressed a shudder suddenly feeling the millennia in these eyes.

“What engraving?”

“She wanted a diagram etched onto metal.  I still have a couple of photocopies of the diagram as well as a couple of sheets I had it transferred to.  The photocopies are in a file somewhere.  The sheets are in the trunk as I recall.”

Fiona was searching her black velvet handbag for something.  He noticed an inverted pentacle with an inverted pentagram within it – the same one as that on her card.  The one on the handbag was, however, made of large diamonds, and were they real would have cost quite a fortune.  Finally she produced a small mother of pearl box and from the box a deck of Tarot cards similar to his.

“A diagram, uh?  Let’s see…”  She drew a single card and put both the card and the deck in front of her on the table next to her unfinished meal.  Then – he could hardly believe his eyes – her hand and most of her arm, up to the top of her elbow-length black glove, just disappeared into the card.

“By the way, what kind of a metal object she wanted to etch it on?”

“I think it might be easiest to show you, Lady Fiona.  Let me have a servant fetch the etching.  Could you perhaps tell me a bit more about these cards and how they work while we wait?  I’m afraid I’m woefully ignorant about such matters.”

Fiona’s arm emerged from inside the card, her hand holding a sheet of paper with an intricate design.  “Never mind servants. Is this the one?”  She turned the sheet toward him.  The design definitely looked similar, though not exactly the same, as the one in his possession.

“As far as the trumps are concerned, don’t even think of using them again until you’re taught how… if it ever comes to this of course.  You must be a remarkable young man to accomplish the contact on your own.  But these toys are dangerous.”  She smiled weary.  “You might end up in a bad place with no means of return, or face someone… hmm… much less benevolent toward handsome young men than I’m.  But back to the subject, is this the design Ele wanted to etch on a metal object and what kind of an object it was?”

In fact, he did not feel any benevolence at all.  The green eyes were definitely softer than Elektra’s gray daggers, yet seemed void of any compassion whatsoever.

 “It’s close and she wanted blade quality steel, as I recall.”

“Ohh, well, just curious.  Anyway, I really shouldn’t keep Random waiting.”  She accurately folded the sheet and slid it and the card back into box, apparently having lost any interest in the matter.  “When I tell you, put your hand over the trump – that’s how the contact is broken.  Shouldn’t take you more than a couple hours to get here, which gives me enough time to get back so we could talk some more.  Beth Israel Deaconess Medical Center, Boston.  Ask to see Elizabeth Corey.  If it’s not I meeting you by the door, run like hell.  Trust me, you’re not ready for someone else.  Bring the trumps and the etchings.  Put your hand over the trump now!”

So he did and found himself back in his den all alone.  He examined the card carefully.  Still seemed colder than the rest but otherwise just a normal card.  Had he fallen asleep and dreamed the whole thing?  Did the petite redhead, who had just talked to him, so casual and so alien at the same time, really exist?  There was only one way to find out.  Of course he could also wait till morning and take the deck to the university lab, where he had a couple of friends…

It was well after midnight when Ambrose walked into the hospital, and the information desk looked unattended.  There was a rather large black woman in a hospital garb doing some paperwork at the nursing station down the hall.  She looked up at him discontentedly without bothering to return his smile.

“Do you know where I could find an Elizabeth Corey?”

“No one’s by that name on the night shift.  I would’ve known.”

“A petite beautiful redhead.  Striking green eyes...”

“In weird dresses?”

“Well I sort of like them, but I believe so, yes.”

“Ah, that’s not staff, not Elizabeth either.  That’s Fiona, her aunt.  Elizabeth’s a patient.  5th floor, to the left, room 561.”

“Thank you.”

“Are you with those weird people?”

“No, why?”

“Soooo weird.  All of them!  Now you see ’em now you don’t!  Like they go through walls or somethin’...  Rich though,” the nurse sighed.  “No insurance, all cash.  The girl, Elizabeth, is all burned like you wouldn’t believe.  Should be dead, but she isn’t.  I’d kept away from ‘em all if I were you.”

“Thanks for the heads up,” Ambrose chuckled as he headed toward the elevator.

The door of Room 561 opened just as his hand moved to knock on it, letting out a large man with red hair and beard, blue eyes, and a lot of rings on his fingers, dressed in an indescribable red suit.

Ambrose made a step back.  “Excuse me.”

“Who the hell are you?”

“I’m Ambrose.  I was told to meet someone in here…”

“And who the hell that might be?”

“Her name’s Fiona.”

The man looked him up and down with a sarcastic grin.  “Fi?  She used to be known for much better taste.  I’m her brother.  Bleys is the name.”

“It’s nothing like...ugh… that.  She just wanted to meet with me.”

Bleys suddenly grabbed his hand, the fingers like iron vises, no way to escape this grip.  “Perhaps you’d like to tell me what your business with my sister is, and where the hell have you met her in the first place?”

“It’s sort of odd, really.  I picked up this card and she just sort of appeared.”

“Are you saying you contacted Fi by her trump??”

“I believe that’s what she called them, yes.”

“Alright, let’s start from the beginning, there must be one.  Obviously you’re not of Amber, so... are you of Chaos or of Shadow?”

“I’m of Connecticut.”

“Hmm… fascinating.  And who gave you the trumps in the first place?”

“I found it in a shop.  It struck me so I bought them.”

“Why did it happen to strike you?”

“I’m not sure really.  Perhaps the artwork.  Maybe because they seemed magical...”

“This is odd, very odd,” Bleys shook his head incredulously.  “But assuming you did manage to raise Fi, what happened next?”

“We talked and she told me to meet her here.”  He felt Bleys’ grip tightening even more on his wrist.

“Talked what about?”

“An etching, Elektra, the cards...  Could you perhaps let go of me?”

“Elektra?  Etching??  I’ll let you go when I feel like it, now you seem to know much more than you tell.  How do you know Elektra?”

“I met her at a flea market.  She asked me for help making the etchings.  I didn’t see her again after that night.”

“And when was that?”

“Almost three years ago.”

“Hmm, let’s see.  I suppose Brand let her loose…possible... then you found the trumps and raised Fiona and told her you’ve met Elektra… so she asked you to come here…  By the way, what are those etchings you keep mentioning?”

“It’s a sort of abstract design... spiral shaped somewhat.”

“How does the design come into play though?”

“She wanted it transferred to metal.”

“Fiona??”

“No, Elektra!  Fiona just wanted to see it.”

“So she asked you to bring it?  I see now…  Where is it?”

“Yes, it’s in my trunk.”

“Let’s go have a look.”

“Shouldn’t we wait for her?”

“What for?  She told me all about it beforehand.  I just wanted to see if you’re the one.”  Bleys’ grin did not look very sincere.

“I’d really prefer to wait for her...”

“She’s busy right now!  I’m for her!”  Bleys started dragging Ambrose toward the elevator.  Resistance seemed rather pointless, as the man apparently possessed enormous strength.

“Bleys!  What do you think you’re doing?”  Fiona appeared seemingly from nowhere this time dressed in a lavender pantsuit.

At her sight, Bleys muttered something undistinguishable and abruptly went back into Room 561, leaving the two alone in the hall.  Ambrose sighed with much relief, rubbing his wrist.

“Didn’t I tell you to run?”

“Your brother is very... large.  I didn’t have much chance, really.”

“Yeah, sometimes he's quite imposing I suppose,” she smiled.  “Let me tell you something.  Less you talk around the family, better your chances for survival are.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.  My condolences about your niece, by the way.  Can I see her?”

The situation here is… hmm... Ele’s kinda… hmm... ill, so she was checked in under the name of Elizabeth Corey.  She's not conscious so you can’t see her, but that’s why we all are here.  You do have some luck though.  It could’ve been Brand, her father, not Bleys.”  Fiona rolled her eyes.  “Did you bring the trumps?”

“Yes.  Maybe we could talk somewhere else before…”  He nodded at the door of Room 561, “The etching’s in my trunk.”

“Just give me the trumps.”  Ambrose sighed handing her the deck, which she put into her pentagrammed handbag.  “That’s better.  Now, shall we go look at the etchings?”

He escorted Fiona to the elevator and down the hall passing the nursing station where he noticed the nurse shaking her head at her sight.  In silence they proceeded into the parking garage to his car.

“It’s the titanium sheet on the left.”  Ambrose popped the trunk.

She examined the sheet briefly, then straightened up leaning so close to him that he felt her hair on his face.  Mysteriously shining eyes, a scent of exotic perfume, a soft whisper in his ear.  “Now tell me, young man, what do you feel when you look at this design?”

“It’s compelling... I’m not sure really…  I had this extra etching made so I could keep it…  it hasn’t ever done anything, but it seems sort of magical to me… just a feeling I have… maybe it’s wishful thinking...”

“Maybe... but then, maybe not....”

She pulled away, taking his hand and leading him out the garage and across the street, toward a large neon sign Danny’s, which he was reasonably sure, had not been there before.  Inside they were shown to a corner table and handed large folders labeled Menuae.

Ambrose stared at the odd folder for a moment.  “We’re not in the same place are we?”

Fiona’s lips were smiling.  There was brief silence before she began to speak.

“Long time ago, very long time ago, there was Chaos.  Then the Pattern was drawn which partial design you have on your etchings.  It created the true reality called Amber – the only one opposite to Chaos – and all the Shadows in between.  A race of beings came into existence that could traverse the Shadows.  I believe you’re one of them.”

“I am???”

“Tell me about your parents.”

“I’ve never met them.  I was adopted as a baby and never able to find out about my birth parents, which is sort of odd.”

“Yessss, proves my point doesn’t it?  You are not of Shadow...  You are one of us... those who traverse it.”

“But I don’t know any magic...”

“Like this place,” she made a wide arc with her arm.  “It’s already what you call ‘magic’.  I took you away from your Shadow into a different one.  It resembles yours but it’s not the same.”

Ambrose nodded.  “That’d be why the Menu spelling is wrong.  How does one... do it?  Going from one place to another?”

“The design, as you call it.  Actually it’s called the Pattern.  It enables us to do this, among other things.  One must walk the Pattern to be able to traverse Shadow.”

“Oh, I take it the original is larger then the titanium sheet then.”  He grinned a little weakly.

Fiona responded with a soft smile.  “Much larger.  You have just a small part of the Second Veil.  But even that, if etched on a weapon, would be most destructive and impregnable.  Is that what Elektra was after?”

“I think she mentioned a dagger, but I’m not sure, really…”

Her smile was gone and she sighed with much sadness.  “Elektra may be very dangerous at times.  Her desires are wild and her powers are great, but her knowledge is very little.  Do you like her?”

“Yes!  Do you think she’ll... survive?”

“Of course.  The Pattern took care of that.”

“So walking the Pattern is some sort of initiation ritual?”

Fiona chuckled.  “You may call it that.”

“And if I do it, I can work magic?”

“Basically, yes.  But only those of a certain genetic makeup – what we call ‘the Blood’ – can walk the true Pattern, otherwise one would be instantly killed.”

“Oh, that seems sort of... risky then.”

“There is something about you I feel, but can’t really place. It’s very, very rare that one can do a Trump call without training.  But perhaps it’s academic anyway, and you are happy with you life as it is.  Are you?”

“I should be.  Mostly I am, but I guess there’s still something missing.  Magic, I guess.  Everything seems a little dull, a little gray, a little mundane, like there’s something more.  I guess that’s why I do things like buying strange cards at antique stores for absurd prices, and driving two hours to meet someone I saw in what seemed like a hallucination.”

“Yesss, there’s more, much more.  Though I might do you a great disservice showing you the ‘magic’.  You’ve already met Bleys.  The rest of us are not much better I’m afraid.  Are you sure you want to get to know us?”

He shrugged.  “I wouldn’t have to go to family picnics just because you showed me would I?”

Fiona giggled, but then her face regained seriousness.  “So, there’s Amber and there’s Shadow.  I can take you back to your world to live your life in peace, or I can take you to Amber.  Which one would it be?”

“I’d like to learn more.  I suppose that means Amber.”

“Tell you the truth, I still have no idea who you are.  But I guess we’ll find out sooner or later.  Meanwhile, you’re not to talk to anyone except for those I designate, agreed?”

He nodded quickly with elated smile.  Her narrow, elegant hand found his across the table and the restaurant where they had never ordered anything, somehow faded out, a well-appointed sitting room materializing around them instead.

“Welcome to Amber.”  She let his hand go and pulled a cord near the door, apparently a bell of some kind.

“Thank you.”  Ambrose blinked, his head still somewhat unsteady.  He blinked again at the sight of a medieval warrior entering the room – a chain mail, a helmet and all, a long sword at his belt.

She spoke briefly in a strange language with the same distinct sound patterns he had once heard from Elektra, then turned back to him with a worn-out smile.  “The guard will show you to the guest suite down the hall.  In the morning I shall send someone to attend to you.  I’m afraid you must excuse me now.  The last few days had been very hectic.”

“Goodnight then… Lady Fiona.  Thanks… for everything.”

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