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The Streets of Amber

Bess led him up through a twisting staircase to a small, rotting trapdoor. It emerged in the mouth of a garbage-clotted alley. She wove her way through narrow streets filled with the debris of crashes, riots and fires. The earth under cracked cobbles was often the red dry stuff they'd crossed when they rode from Grace's Villa.

Sometimes faces appeared in windows, only to slink away. Sometimes, fires could be seen in the streets, and low unpleasant masculine laughter. Other times they seemed to be fled from by light footsteps.

Henry's anger seemed to be returning, though he suppressed it admirably.

Bess took Henry down a deserted lane and through the cracked mouth of what he recognized had once been the Postern Gate. A wasteland's version of a garden stretched to the high broken walls of an inn, half of its upper story demolished.

Bess led Henry inside it, calling in an almost hushed tone: "Mother? Are you there?"

Henry stayed quietly at her side, body tensed, hand on his sword-hilt. He was ready for a fight, or even, much as he hated to think it, for a scene such as had met them in Caine's old quarters - with the children.

Bess had to repeat her call several times before a faint voice announced, "In here, darling."

She led Henry through the twists of a staircase, downward and downward.

Henry relaxed his grip on his swordhilt and followed.

Grace stood in a beam of white light, her blonde hair gleaming. She stood partway up a movable ladder, examining a heavy book.

"Hello, Grace," said Henry quietly.

"Mother," Bess looked a little uncomfortable, crossing her arms loosely in front of her. "I thought there might have been trouble."

"Oh, there was," Grace said serenely, "and there will be again. Hello..." And then she trailed off a bit at Henry's expression, and her own grew troubled, as if she did not know which name to use.

"It doesn't matter," he said. "But I do remember you now. Your other daughter is dead - and I am sorry that it was by my hand, and not sorry at the same time. We are off to Rebma soon, but first I must speak to you, about my children." He looked at Bess. "If you have things to say to your mother, you have precedence. I will wait outside."

"It was not by your hand," Grace said sternly. "It was by the hand of the vampires. I asked you to set her soul to rest, and I thank you for doing so. Bess, do you have anything-?"

"No- and the tension in the room is starting to choke me," she drawled, sketching a weary salute in the air and slipping out of the room. In the distance, they heard a door shut loudly.

Henry smiled at the door. "It's hard," he said finally. "I remember things... but they aren't my things..." He raised his gaze to Grace. "And other things keep slipping away. I could be Eric - but never as he was to you... And maybe that's for the best. But I do remember loving you. I had other things to say, but now I see you all I can think to ask is... did you move on?"

She laughed then, and gazed at him fondly. "Move on? From Eric? I'm afraid that will never be possible. What in all the myriad Shadows and all the ruins of Amber could possibly be as real as Eric? As beautiful? As wild? No, I have not moved on. But I have continued to live."

"And he did not," said Henry, and there was a trace of something lost in his eyes. His hand rose, stretched out for her hair and fell without touching.

She sighed. "No," she said quietly. "Things are... so hard now."

"I know," Henry said gently. "But we will do what we must to make them easier. Tell me... where is Livia?"

"I do not know," Grace answered. "I know she has joined the Blood Guard, defending the remnants of the Royal Lines. Someone with closer ties to them might have her Trump."

"Like Montparnasse," Henry said, shaking his head ruefully. "But I did not know that when I left him. Grace, when you said before that Eric was killed by the Master of White Keep, did you mean the creature Grimm?"

"No," Grace said, in a startled voice. "White Keep is the palace of Kashfa. I meant Delwin, of course."

"Delwin," Henry said flatly, sitting heavily in a nearby chair. "That little sneak. And I actually thought he was nicer than I remembered. Or maybe he is, now that he's dead." He looked up at her, blue eyes intense. "Grace, I... want to say, to ask a lot of things, but I don't know the right questions. And we don't have time for me to stumble about blindly in an attempt to find a door I haven't opened. Be well and be careful. I'm taking a ghost of my sister Fiona to Rebma, and I want to leave Bess here with you. Not because she won't be useful, but because John may be accompanying me and I'd like you to have a fighter by your side. Can you speak to her about it?"

"Yes," she said. "That's quite all right. I'd prefer she stay here and help me defend Amber. Rebma is not what it was. But wait a moment... you don't have to ask the right questions, I won't be cryptic. I admit I did not trust you completely at first. I did extensive research into Eric's death. I can tell you what I found."

"Thank you," Henry said simply, eyes intense on hers. "I owe you much already."

"I was obviously in a difficult state of mind. Eric was dead, and all believed Richard to be responsible... so I used my resources to locate the Hall of Mirrors and analyze all the energies that had been used through it. Lucretia, the old Lady of myth... Hadrian... Bleys... and Delwin. Delwin was the only one who would have been alive at the time of the murder of Eric. Eric was killed by psychic shock through one of the Mirrors."

"Hope the Hall of Mirrors doesn't see fit to visit me again," Henry said, shaking his head to fight off the rage that seemed intent on returning. It had to be directionless rage now, because Delwin was dead and safe from any retribution... Unless... "You better hope it doesn't."

He took control of himself and looked back at Grace. "Do you know of any reason why Delwin would have wanted me - Eric dead?"

"I do not," she said, "it is one of the things that has puzzled me."

"Very well," Henry sighed. "Thank you nonetheless - it is good to have a few more pieces of the puzzle, whether one can fit them into the design at present or not. I'd best be going on now - though I'd like to stay... speak of memories and more pleasant things..." He touched her golden hair lightly, smiling again. "Take care of yourself. We made those vampires very angry today - is it still today? God, I don't know how long it's been, but I do know I need a rest. Tomorrow..."

"You are going to ... Rebma, are you not?" Grace pursed her lips. "There's little rest there. Perhaps you can all walk the thing down there and return to a place of power for you. Your siblings have just arrived at the door."

"Oh?" Henry's face betrayed a slight disappointment. Even though he had been ready to go, he had not wanted to leave immediately. "I guess this is goodbye for now, then."

Suddenly he reached forward and tangled his hand in her greying golden hair. He bent forward and gently brushed her lips with his own.

She sighed then, and returned his kiss with a sad fervor. When the kiss ended, she turned away, head bent, her fingertips pressed to the reddish wooden slats of one of the moveable ladders. She remained this way until he had left.

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