12.   A Castle Guard.

 

“Excuse me, Ma’am.  This is a restricted area of the Castle Amber.  Please state your name and business.”  The guard’s hand was clutching his drawn sword.  He was a tall, strikingly handsome young man with black hair and well-groomed beard.  Dad had told her once that the dungeons and therefore the Pattern chamber had a permanent guard called Roger of a rather advanced age.  But perhaps he was sick or dead.  Not as she minded though, not at all.

 

“Haven’t you just called me Lady Fiona?”

 

“Are you saying you’re Lady Fiona?”  The guard was not quite sure how to proceed.

 

“Not at all… it’s you who’s said that.”  Actually the dungeons being dark, and Roger – old, she had fully expected to pass for Fiona.  But he was no Roger.  Strangely enough a possibility of having a problem with the guard had not even occurred to her.  Definitely, alienating him would be the worst thing to do.  She ran quickly through her store of charming smiles.  Perhaps, number 8 – Enchanting Benevolence.  “Oh, please forgive me, I didn’t mean to upset you.  I’m Elektra, daughter of Prince Brand.”

 

The first thing she had done upon returning home from the hospital was to check on her garden.  It was doing just fine of course, even though Viss was not around – taking vacations and unaware of her being ill, according to Dad.  That was rather odd, but to think of it, only a little more than a week had passed since that morning when she was pulled to Amber by her cousin, though it seemed she had been away forever.  The time stream at home was about the same as in Amber proper, while the Shadow Earth flow had recently returned to being approximately 2.5 faster – the original differential, that had been suspended for a while by her Aunt Florimel.  A few years after the Patternfall War, Flora had discovered an alleged wrinkle on her otherwise perfect neck, and had become so terrified that she had slowed down the time on Shadow Earth, her residence of choice, to almost one fourth of that of Amber.  This of course had caused much frustration in the family – everyone liked to visit Shadow Earth and it was no fun or sometimes outright dangerous to miss important events in Amber after what seemed to be just a short trip.  Yet no one would argue with Flora on such sensitive matters as her appearance, so she had been left alone to finally realize that a wrinkle had been purely imaginary and the only real threat to her looks would be an accidental explosion of a hand grenade she always carried in her purse.

 

Still feeling somewhat weak – deficiencies of the hospital food perhaps, she spent the rest of the day in bed contemplating her next step.  The foolishness of her original plan of reaching the Courts of Chaos by a Shadow Walk was rather obvious.  She could not possibly effect the correct changes in Shadow, as she had no idea what to look for.  Dad had the Trumps, but he had already said he would not give them to her and Elektra knew him well enough to not insist.  There might be some relevant Trumps among the decks on display in the Castle library.  So how would she get to the Castle?  Of course, Scarlett could pull her through, but she did not want to involve Scarlett again.  She still did not know what punishment her cousin had received from Fiona for their ill-fated adventure.  On the other hand, she had no good recollection of the Castle, except for Scarlett’s room.  The solution was so simple that it did not come to her until hours later.  The Pattern chamber!  If it were possible to teleport from one Pattern reflection to another, it might as well be possible to teleport from the mental reflection to the real one.  She did not know if it had been done before, but she well remembered Dworkin’s words in her hospital room on Shadow Earth and had no doubt the Pattern would deliver, as it had always done for her.  She did not even think of getting dressed first…

 

There was no expressed requirement of Amber citizenship for acceptance into the Castle Guard, but as only the toughest of veterans could hope to pass a required test of a hand-to-hand combat with Benedict, it was rather tacit, so when a handsome black-haired stranger inquired of vacancies, quite a few eyebrows were raised.  His credentials of several years of service in an elite unit of Kashfan army were, however, impeccable, and a routine background check did not turn up anything adverse.  Of course, no one could be expected to prevail in a duel with Benedict.  To pass the test one  must just last long enough, and when by luck or by skill Rohan lasted much longer than other applicants, and had even managed to almost get through Benedict’s defense once, it was Benedict himself who approved his hire.

 

A few weeks after joining the Guard, he was assigned to the station in the dungeons.  A regular guard caught flu or something and, of course, a new guy always gets it.  Not a sought after assignment to sit in there at the bottom of the staircase in the light of a little lantern with no one around and not much to do except for looking forward to the end of the shift.  The dungeons had not been used at all under Random.  As for the Pattern chamber… but wait!  There was a definite noise from the direction of the Pattern chamber!  He headed into the large dark tunnel to his right and then through the seventh side passage.  Someone was knocking on the heavy metal bound door of the Pattern chamber from the inside.  With his sword drawn, he took a large key hanging from a steel hook to his right and unlocked the door.  He had to put the lantern down, but the bluish glow of the Pattern provided enough light to see a petite woman with luscious red hair and mother of pearl complexion on the other side of the doorway.  She was dressed in a plush robe of green velvet over a long silk nightgown, also green.  He noticed a large medallion of a rare black opal framed in gold and embedded with diamonds forming a falling star surrounded by a starry background.

 

“Seems like I’ve been knocking forever.”

 

He came to attention recognizing her from her trump.  “I’m sorry, Lady Fiona, I came as soon as I heard the noise.”  So she had teleported from another reflection and then for some reason had walked backward from the center.  Not a very common thing to do, but not something unheard of either.  He picked up the lantern to escort her back to the stairs, and in its light his eyes accidentally met hers; he stepped back involuntary, his body shivering as if in a gust of chilly wind.  This was definitely not Fiona!  He lowered his eyes to escape the gray icy daggers stabbing at his very soul, and suddenly realized that while she could only be where she was by walking the Pattern, she was barefoot.  He tried his best to overcome an inexplicable primal fear rising inside him.

 

“Excuse me, Ma’am.   This is a restricted area of Castle Amber.   Please state your name and business.”

 

“Haven’t you just called me Lady Fiona?”

 

“Are you saying you are Lady Fiona?”

 

“Not at all… it’s you who’s said that.”  She paused while her lips were forming a truly enchanting smile.  “Oh, please forgive me, I didn’t mean to upset you.  I’m Elektra, daughter of Prince Brand.”

 

Rohan blinked twice – first when he heard the word ‘daughter’ and then when he heard ‘Brand’.  A bewildered or at least somewhat confused, the new guard tried to figure out the best course of action.  His mind worked fast however.  The guards were told that Brand was alive, just in case he showed up in the Castle, but no one had mentioned a daughter.  He had not seen any Elektra on the multitudes of new and old, group and single family portraits lining the halls either.  Yet her resemblance to Fiona was striking, and her medallion indeed was embedded with Brand’s symbol.  Perhaps he stumbled on one of those closely guarded family secrets…

 

He sheathed his weapon and bowed low, showing due respect to one of her lineage.  “I bid you welcome to Castle Amber, beautiful Lady.”  In silence he escorted Brand’s daughter to his guard station near the base of the dungeon stairs, and pulled back a chair at the lone table in an invitation, announcing politely, “I will summon the Captain so you may be properly... welcomed... to Castle Amber.”  He reached for a long silver horn at his belt, slowly raising the ivory tip to his lips, a slight flush on his apparently determined face.

 

A prudent guard, most probably new… not very smart either… most likely the reason for him to be here in the first place.  Though extremely good-looking… and reminding of someone, but hard to say…  She had no desire to deal with the Captain, because it was not going to end there.  She already knew that no one in the Castle had any idea of her existence.  Hard to say if the family did, except of course for Clarissa’s bunch and, perhaps his gracious majesty, whom she had never met and would have rather kept it this way for his benefit as well as hers.  Fiona would love to see her, but she might not be around.  The best thing would be to avoid this ruckus altogether, so she got to somehow bluff her way out of it.  And considering the effect her father’s name produced in Amber – just look how the guard’s face changed – facing Brand would be the last thing in the world he might want.  All alone, in the dark dungeons, with whatever he might be accused of by the daughter – no one would be that stupid.

 

“I’ve been doing my studies at home and needed some references, so thought I’d stop by the Castle library for just a few moments.  There’s no need for ceremonies and I suppose the Captain’s a busy man…”  She drew Brand’s Trump from her robe’s pocket and held it the way the guard could see it, smiling innocently.  “Of course, if you require further proof of my words, you’re most welcome to just talk to my father.  Shall I ask Lord Brand to Trump in?” 

 

Rohan’s eyes widened in surprise when she mentioned actually summoning Brand into the Castle.  He appeared to stumble and retreated back two steps in alarm, yet placing himself into the most strategically advantageous position for a possible attack while using the lone table, chair and wall as hindrance for any maneuver of escape or retreat.  At the same time, his two steps backward placed him into a clear line of sight down the corridor and up the flight of long stairs.  He made no move towards his weapon however, frowning as if trying hard to find a solution to this impasse without shirking his duty.

 

“Beautiful lady, I’m just a guard and most certainly can’t stop one such as you from doing whatever you wish.  However, I’ve also sworn an oath to uphold my duty, to both King and Country.  It’s my intention to summon the Captain of the guard, since this matter is one that’s apparently beyond my understanding, even though such an action may cost me my life.  Duty and honor binds me to safeguard these corridors to the best of my ability.   However, if you have any other suggestion to resolve this matter satisfactory I’ll listen dutifully.”

 

She observed his reaction to her words impassively but she felt her eyes moisten.  Sometimes it might be useful indeed to have her father’s name instill that much fear but she could not help being saddened by it.  She sincerely wished more people knew him as well as she did, then they would have seen what a gentle and kind man he was.  She really had no desire to bring Brand into all this, as though a little girl running to Dad for help.  She should be able to handle her own affairs!  Also he had never said that the ban on visiting Amber had been revoked.  Regrettably she had none of her throwing stars with her – the guard’s throat was so invitingly exposed, but there were other, even more potent weapons…  

 

“I appreciate your words of duty and honor, warrior, as much as I appreciate your loyalty to my family. One possessing these qualities and hmm… having ways to relate it to one’s superiors, perhaps even to Lord Benedict himself, may find oneself being elevated rather quickly.  That’s of course if one also possesses discretion, which sometimes may be required in… hmm… delicate matters.”  She replaced the Trump in her pocket, her hands undoing the belt of her robe as she spoke.  “But then, lacking discretion, one might find oneself on the way in... hmm… a direction rather opposite…”

 

The robe was slipping off her shoulders and then down her arms.  “Perhaps even toward the gallows… as I believe that’s indeed a punishment for a violent act against the Royal Family.”

 

She ripped the lace bodice of her nightgown almost down to her waist, which of course revealed much more of her heaving chest than the most licit standard of modesty would allow, but though her face blushed a little, she actually did not mind at all letting him have a good look.

 

“So blow your horn, warrior!  Fulfill your duty, but let’s see how much honor the Captain will find in your first taking advantage of a defenseless girl!”

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