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Picnic in the Ruins

Delwin pursed his lips again and hesitated. His glowing smile came a bit late and tinged with something like sadness. "At this point, I don't think it's possible to save the Pattern. It's been too damaged. People have tried... they all died. Nobody knows where Dworkin is, maybe he's dead. Now, everyone knows I had no especial love for Amber as she was, but that was mostly a thing with politics and Dad. I think someone needs to find the Jewel of Judgment before La Conta does and inscribe a new Pattern. And I think they need to do it soon. There are at best four or five people left with the blood of Amber, and the Quincunx are going to find them soon and kill them. Factions or no factions, nobody's strong enough to fight Brand and Benedict together."

"Your use of original names interspersed with Pattern-ghost honorifics might be construed as confusing, brother," Henry said, smiling. "But I do agree with you. However, you have created for me three tasks, none of which will be easy. One: to protect the blood of Amber. Two: to find the Jewel of Judgment. Three: to create a faction which can rival the Quincunx... Delwin, why might they be called the Quincunx of White Keep? Surely they do not reside there?"

"The pact between the five of them was sealed in one of La Conta's blood magic ceremonies in White Keep, which was initially created by Julian as a gift for Fiona. It's located near the southern edge of Arden, if you're interested. Winning the android to their cause was a big boon, and that's why they're referred to by White Keep." Delwin paused, "But don't worry about anything right now except finding the Jewel. Making a new Pattern has to be the priority. Especially for those of you Dworkin's Pattern is going to consider awfully expendable."

Henry nodded almost imperceptibly - the gesture seemed linked to some sort of thought pattern, rather than an acknowledgment. "I agree with your assessment of priority, but not, perhaps, your extension thereof... Can Dworkin's Pattern not be repaired? Are there none left alive of the blood of Amber with the strength to repair the damage done? Or, to put it in another way, are you alive and Delwin, or are you a ghost-man, a replica, like myself?"

"I am something else entirely," Delwin said, spreading his hands over the marble table. "I am neither alive nor properly Delwin. I am ... an essence... perhaps you would say, trapped within the Hall of Mirrors. Delwin as a man is dead, and Delwin's motivations in life are no longer mine. Not in their entirety. Rather, it is of interest to this quasi-dimension that Order, of some kind, continues to exist. To my knowledge, repairing the damage would be much more difficult than creating a new Pattern, and probably not even Oberon could do so, at this advanced state of degradation. The only person who might have been able to do it was Brand, and he is likewise dead."

"You have a higher opinion of Brand than I," Henry said, reaching for a glass and taking a sip. "And a lower opinion of all the rest of Oberon's blood. But must this thing be done by a living being? And, if so, what do you know of that living lineage? Is Richard all that's left?"

"It's not that I have a high opinion of Brand, God forbid!" Delwin chuckled. "It's just that the stain on the Pattern is imbued with the Blood Curse of at least six different Amberites. To fix it, you'd have to reconcile in your mind all the hate, darkness and evil that went into that thing, and think sufficiently like Dworkin to practically make it over by scratch. I think Brand's got the weirdest and most morbid brain of all of us.

"It'd probably need to be done by a living being. Most ghosts can't even walk the thing. The Three can walk the blackness, but that's it.

"And as for living lineage... Richard, Livia... Martin's kid... Rinaldo... John Sablecloak of Amber... and nobody ever did find Oberon."

Henry was nodding when the names came, but they made him pause. Richard he had already remembered... Livia - his daughter, his eldest child... he remembered teaching her the sword, remembered how much she had liked warfare. It was unusual for a girl, so he had thought, but he had smiled at it. Liv. His little girl. She had never gotten along with Richard, either, a personality clash that he (Eric) hadn't been able to smooth over.

Martin - the name rang a small bell - he knew Random had a son named Martin, but nothing beyond that. Certainly nothing about a grandchild for Random.

Rinaldo... Nothing.

John, though, John he remembered. John had been Oberon's child, and he had come forward in the battle against Chaos, when the Black Roads appeared. Henry remembered fighting alongside him... It had been Eric, Corwin and John, marshalling the forces against the enemies of Amber.

And then, of course, there was Oberon. If Oberon were still alive, that would complicate matters, but it did offer a sort of hope.

He shook his head. "Who is Rinaldo?"

"Brand's son by this Black Zone bitch. Sorceress, calls herself the Red Queen. Right now she's La Conta's strongest political enemy. She'll do absolutely anything to keep her son alive. Anything."

Henry smiled. He could appreciate the sentiment, of course, and there was certainly a nagging part of him that was interested. "Tough woman, yes? Maybe I should meet her. Later. Now... the jewel. Do you have any idea where I should start looking, since it was your idea?"

"Not really. Last I know, Fiona had it." Delwin sipped his drink. "I never said this would be easy."

"Fiona had it," Henry sighed, ran a hand through his hair, and then nodded. "And Fiona's dead. Did she acquire it before or after the ghost of Rose Red was created?"

"Well after. Just after Julian's death. Julian fled the palace with the thing to keep it from La Conta..." Delwin frowned.

"Then perhaps I had best start by speaking with her mother... since the only ghost of Fi I can think of isn't likely to have that information," Henry said, watching Delwin closely for a reaction.

Delwin chuckled. "I wouldn't trust Clarissa if I were you. She's a Lady of Chaos now, I have the feeling she only wants Amber back if she can be Queen again. Hell of a proviso."

"Admittedly," Henry said, smiling again. "On the other hand, I can think of few provisos that are too extreme if they mean returning Amber to her former state."

"Hmm," Delwin shrugged. "Well, I'm not going to try to talk you out of it, but ever wondered if a Pattern-ghost of Fiona, a more recent one than Rose Red, might remember where Fi hid the damn thing?"

"And there is such a person, and you know about her?" Henry said, eyebrows raising slightly. "How are you getting this information, brother?"

"I don't know, I'm just saying there might be." Delwin sighed and started peeling an orange, separating each bit of fruit and pulling white cords from the edges.

"In that case I am back at square one," said Henry. "Thank you for the information and for the dinner. Now... how do I get back where I was before?"

Delwin handed him a very familiar deck. "Try using the Amber card," he said drily. "And hope it's a while before the Hall of Mirrors has to chat with you again."

"Thank you," said Henry, reaching out to clasp Delwin's shoulder. "I regret it is only as a ghost that I meet you again." He shuffled through the cards to the one of Amber city and concentrated.

Delwin laughed. "Oh God, don't say that! Just... go save the world, Eric."

Amber took form before him, changed utterly in its constituency from the pasteboard image before him. He stepped forward...

"Holy Unicorn--!" Bess exclaimed sharply. "How the hell did you do that?!"

Henry smiled and turned the card so that she could see it. "Trump deck. It's a pleasure to have one again. How are the children?"

"Bedded down." She frowned. "A Trump deck?" Bess made a sound then, fairly caustic. "Never mind, I don't want to know."

Henry turned to her with a similar frown. "You do not know about Trump decks? I think... I should show you. Shall we go inside?"

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