8.       Elektra.

 

Slowly the nothingness condensed into a silhouette, a silhouette into a face.  A rather plain woman, a black shawl over her dark hair – my mother, whom I’ve never known.  I felt her hands on my head, her tears on my face, and I felt in peace.

 

“My little Amber…”

 

No one’s ever called me this, though it is indeed my name as translated from one of the ancient languages of Shadow Earth, called Greek.  The pain was gone and I had so many questions to ask, but she was already someone else.  A being of incredible beauty and lightness and many more like it floating in what I can’t describe, as the world suddenly contained many more dimensions than our usual three.  I knew I was on the other side of the Pattern.  Then it all dissolved once again, for how long I don’t know.  The next time I opened my eyes, I saw the sad, concerned faces of Dad and Bleys, and I knew it was for real.  So were my bed and the room around it containing all sorts of equipment I was connected to.

 

An ordinary human would’ve been simply incinerated, but the energy my body absorbed saving Skywalker’s Jedi pupils from the fury of the storm I had myself created, was way too much even for a Princess of Amber.  Neither the medical knowledge of a technological world nor all the power of the mysterious Force possessed by Skywalker could’ve saved me, so Scarlett did the only right thing – she called her mother.  Fiona didn’t even have a chance to get furious for our ill-conceived adventure.  I had just enough life left in me to be taken to Rebma and carried onto the Pattern.  Staying in the center is even harder than reaching it, that’s why one teleports away as soon as possible.  Fiona never told me what it took her to walk the Pattern with me in her arms, and then stay put in the center for as long as she had, letting its powers do their healing work – which I am certain was the time of my visions.  She doesn’t have to.  Fiona’s never had a single gray hair before – there’re a quite few now.  I know exactly how she feels about it – I got several strands myself.  The Pattern extracts the heaviest toll from those toward whom it’s most benevolent.  Of course, we wouldn’t have reached Rebma in time if not for Llewella, but whatever was promised to her in exchange for pulling us through – I wasn’t told either.

 

The Pattern granted me life, but it couldn’t or wouldn’t, which is most probably the case, heal me completely.  I had bad burns, especially on my arms, and my hands were almost destroyed.  Dad knew just the right place to take care of me, so I ended up in Beth Israel Deaconess Medical Center in the city of Boston on Shadow Earth, where, after initial surgeries, I proceeded to astound my medical attendants with the speed of tissue regeneration.  Dad, Fiona and Bleys, who’d also been informed, never left my bedside taking turns for those few days I remained unconscious.  And Scarlett, of course, dear Scarlett, who had to exchange her chain mail and sword for a more conventional denim outfit for the time being.  I think this brought my Dad and my Aunt and Uncle closer together, so we more or less resemble a normal family by now, though I’m not sure for how long.  It’s true that by saving me, Fiona finally closed that old chapter of having had tried to kill Dad, but there’s always room for new animosities – that’s just the way we are.  As I came through and seemed to improve by the day – everyone has one’s own affairs to take care of – so I was mostly left alone.  Fiona departed for Amber, taking Scarlett with her to take care of some business at hand.  I sincerely hope no punishment is in store for Scarlett – my Aunt’s not a lady to be crossed and her memory is long.  Bleys had some business too, somewhere in Shadow, and Dad himself isn’t in the greatest shape so he had to have some rest at home.  I didn’t mind at all.  By that time, I had someone else to keep me company.

 

He came on my second day of consciousness, late at night.  One moment it was just I, my mind clouded with drugs they’ve filled me with, but still trying to contemplate many things at once.  Then, there were two of us in the room.  He took a seat on the edge of my bed – a small, hunchbacked, bearded man in a long black nightgown – pressing his dirty finger with a long dirty nail to his lips.  I wanted to sit up to embrace my great-grandfather, but I was still too weak.  We talked a lot that night and then many other nights.  He told me great many things about the times that had been and about the Pattern, though it was more interactive about the Pattern because I had my own things to say.  His approach was quite different from mine – as any great artist, he cared more of the perfection of form.  I just wanted to know how, so we argued a lot.  When I grew stronger, he took me places through many a gate he would sketch on pieces of paper with just a few strokes, but that is another story.  What does matter is that we were both very happy with our time together.

 

All told, I spent about three weeks at the hospital, where I was treated extremely well, so I was rather sorry to deprive my doctors of their chance to complete quite a few medical papers intended to be written about me, but then it was time to go home.  There still was one question remaining that I had not asked him, for I hadn’t known how.  Till the last night, but then it was him who started first.

 

“Random was selected for a reason, Ele.”

 

“Like what?”

 

“He’s a wise and able administrator.  That’s what Amber needs right now.  There’s been enough wars.”

 

“You out of all people should know that my Dad should be on the throne.”

 

“The wisest possible choice was made, and Brand has finally accepted it, as well as the rest of the family.  Every disturbance in Amber causes amplified disturbances in Shadow, like a pebble thrown in water.  You know this, Ele, we’ve talked about it.” 

 

“Yeah… sure.  Look where I ended up by being dumb enough to care.  But never again!  For all we know, they all aren’t even real!”

 

“Their sufferings and deaths are real.”

 

“Truth is real!  And it happens to be that Random, whatever good he is, which point I would’ve argued were it relevant, just doesn’t belong on the throne.  And he’s not gonna stay there no matter what I’ll have to do.  Corwin brought guns, I shall bring missiles, if I have to!”

 

“To what end?  Brand was my best pupil, but he’s not fit to be the king, which leaves…”  Suddenly he falls silent, which should’ve raised a huge question mark in my mind were I not to misinterpret it.  

 

“Which leaves me!”

 

“You’re not fit to rule either.”

 

“Oohh, and why is that, pray tell, Great-Grandfather?”

 

“Because, to rule a realm, one must care about the realm.  You care of nothing but the Pattern.  I’ve always thought Fiona would be the one, but I guess it took one more generation.  You already know as much as she does, but what really matters is that when you don’t know, you just draw on the Pattern and it delivers.  You don’t even need the Jewel, so perfect your attunement is, though I have no idea how and why.  But what you seek isn’t there.  The Pattern isn’t a gate to another reality, but the only reality there is.  There’s no other side.”

 

“Yes there is!  You said yourself that the Unicorn had directed your inscribing the Pattern.  What you made is an interface to some device located where the Unicorn had originally come from.  Perhaps she needed it to return to there.  The Pattern is… like a bottom side of a printed circuit…”

 

“My point exactly.”  He sighs tiredly.  “No harm to welfare or even existence of Amber will stop you from seeking that which doesn’t exist.  What does exist are your own ambitions and fears.  That’s what your ‘other side’ is, no more no less.”

 

“So the throne of Amber may belong only to someone who believes that a bunch of lines curved in stone is somehow able to maintain the universal order all by itself?”

 

“All academic though, unless you find the box,” he sighs again even deeper.  “And I’m not gonna tell you where it is, Elektra.”

 

‘His little Great-Granddaughter Ele is no more.  He killed her with this Elektra, which tears at my heart like a dagger.  Sometimes an enemy to be reckoned with – sometimes an ally, but not the one to trust – always a relative, but not the one to love.  Just one of our blessed or cursed – I could never figure out which one is more applicable – family.  So be it!  I am Elektra, Princess of Amber in my own right.’

 

“Will you destroy it, Dworkin?”

 

“Destroy what?  The Place of Prior Existence or the box?”

 

“Either,” I bite my lip to stop an exulted smile.  ‘So there’s my answer after all.  There’s the Place of Prior Existence, he just confirmed that much.’

 

“No, the events shall take place as they’re.  I won’t interfere.”

 

He would not or he could not?  Another interesting question to ponder later. “I shall find it, you know.”

 

“If you do, we shall meet again.”

 

“I’m not scared of you, Dworkin.  The Pattern belongs to me now, and I am what you’ve said…”  I laugh suddenly feeling a surge of energy in every cell of my body.  “So behold the Pattern Witch!”

 

But I’m already alone in the room.  I wish he wouldn’t do his disappearing in the wall thing.  Such an easy act to follow.

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