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Henry in the Hall of Mirrors

The faces were held static, face-forward, in their unique frames. Each one spoke, though it was difficult to tell if their eyes truly focused on Henry, or if their words were meant for him. They seemed to be in clusters, with many near each other which were similar almost to the point of being at first indistinguishable.

"Children," said one, who could be Henry's twin. "Sons and daughters of the Unicorn..."

The next, Oberon: "Is it betrayal to obfuscate the truth, or to turn your back from it?"

Henry turned to look at this, and nodded slightly.

On the other side, Faiella, in her soft voice: "Daughters kill mothers and sons kill fathers. That is the way of the world."

He flinched.

Grace Blackwell: "Things are not as simple as they seem."

Bess Blackwell spat, "Blood on the Pattern!"

Then there was the young girl with the golden hair whose head Henry had reaved from her shoulders. "Sometimes one must bow to destiny and die to make things right..."

And Henry stared at her for a long time, hoping, hoping that she was not his daughter, that Grace had only one child with Eric.

At the other side of her, a woman with short black hair and vivid blue eyes repeated, coldly, "Blood on the Pattern!"

He regarded this woman as well, trying for a sense of familiarity, finding none.

Then there was Corwin, smirking in his frame of black and silver. "I told you, brother. The throne was meant for me."

This made Henry clench his fists and bite down on the impulse to break the mirror, break that smirking face.

Gerard: "The serpent squeezes..."

Empathy. He liked Gerard.

Julian: "Arden is the gateway."

And another who resembled Julian strongly, but Julian as if he were made of metal and glass: "The gateway is shut."

Henry took a breath and consigned that to memory.

Those two argued further as Henry pushed on.

There was a cluster of Brands, arguing. One said, "This is what we intended. One of us should have life." Another said, "There is no us. You have destroyed much." The third remained silent.

Confusion. Ambivalence.

At the bend of the hallway two mirrors held figures that moved. One had russet hair and was dressed in green. He reached out to Henry. "Eric!" he cried, "Eric, you live!" His frame was golden and circular.

Next to him was a diamond frame, and in it sat a woman with long red hair, and her eyes were a green that seemed to glow with evil energy. "That is not Eric," she said in a purring voice, "that is the King. Henry, come speak to me. Delwin's truths are all lies that are deadly to you."

Henry paused. She knew his name, but did that mean he ought to trust her? Or the fact that she knew him, and the glowing of her eyes, should that turn him in the opposite direction?

He liked the straight-forwardness of Delwin, the assumption that it was Eric...

If he could only choose one, and knowing they would both lie to him...

Well, he was sick of women's lies...

He moved forward, his attention split between. If Delwin asked him again, he would go to the man, but if not, then it would be to the woman.

"What she's saying is not necessarily true, brother," Delwin said with a warm smile, extending his hand. "On any count at all. Clarissa's been wrong before, numerous times, as you can see by the side of the mirror she's currently on."

And that somehow made it harder, because he knew both the names, although the memories were not strong ones. He knew who they were, however. Clarissa - his stepmother, his wife... a fine specimen of a woman, and he'd thought so more times than that one... Delwin - his brother, his son... How to choose between the two?

Henry chose Delwin, for a reason neither Eric nor Oberon would have done so... and it pleased him somehow that the whole could be different than the sum of the parts.

He reached forward, sure that he could take Delwin's hand... because given the choice, Henry would always choose his child.

Delwin smiled, laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. They were now in a small sundrenched garden, bordered by a crumbling terrace of something like lavender soapstone. The sun blazed over his russet hair with its golden streaks.

Delwin was wearing a tight-fitting jacket of some scaled material, streaked in brown and green, and brown corduroy trousers.

"I trust you're going to want some answers," he said philosophically. "But first come a bit this way. Teallot's made some tea and a picnic lunch. You'll be hungry."

Henry smiled as he realized how hungry... his hunger had submerged beneath his anger and his need to solve the puzzle of his existence and of what had happened to Amber.

"Now that you mention it," he said, "I am. I hope that the fact that I am not precisely Eric is not going to negatively affect my welcome... Delwin."

"Not at all... should I call you Henry?"

Delwin led him through a small copse of trees to where a lovely cold lunch with tea was laid out on a table of the same lavender stone as the ruins. Delwin swung a lanky leg over one of the benches.

"I see you've captured Amber Castle again. I doubt Miss B will be wandering back any time soon."

"Well, it's hard to hold a place when you're not there, but I sat again on Amber's throne, such as it now is, yes," Henry said, after he had eaten a little. "Miss B? That would be the Snow White? She was out of town when I arrived? How interesting."

"She calls herself Bianca," Delwin said, pouring himself a bit of cider. "She's been around for a while, and she knows she's not much Deirdre anymore."

Henry paused at that and then nodded. "And why did she leave the Castle... and where did she go?"

"She and your son have little tete-a-tetes regularly. He's been courting her since... well, about since the real Deirdre died." Delwin hmmed.

Henry turned away from Delwin at the words "your son", his gaze crossing the vista but not really taking anything in. "I hope you are not implying anything in your appraisal of the time frame."

Delwin snickered. "What the hell would I be implying? Everyone knows Richard hated Corwin."

Henry shrugged that one off. It had not exactly been what he meant, but it was interesting that Delwin had responded with that. Interesting, but not particularly unwelcome information. He turned back to face Delwin. "Listen. I'm not back in the swing of family intrigue yet, so I'm going to be direct - I don't even know what questions are the right ones to ask. I can come up with questions for you, questions that deal with holes in my memory, but they may not have any relevance to the present situation - so... why did you want me to come here? What did you want to tell me?"

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