The Diaries of Cordelia Chan

Amber Day 8 - CymneaWays / Amber

We spent nearly an hour in determining that the area of wall to which the footsteps led was solid, and didn't shift, slide, or otherwise open to reveal anything beyond. As we searched I began to recall various things Sal had said about the uses of the pattern when he'd taken us on the training excursion. The effect of bringing the pattern to mind and instantiating it in front of me as a lens was not something I'd expected.
It seems the mere incarnation of the pattern in the courts can inflict untold pain on the more sensitive denizens, even if they are hundreds of meters distant. It took me several minutes to block out the screaming before I could concentrate on the wall. Now clearly visible was a black rectangle. Whilst I could see it was some form of construct no immediate method of opening it revealed itself. I was going to need some assistance in determining how to open this.
I dismissed the pattern and made my way outside. My lady-in-waiting, who I shall call Madeline since she doesn't appear to want to volunteer her name, sat waiting, apparently unaffected by the pattern manifestation, which was a good sign for what lay ahead. After about half an hours wait, Cho appeared. He said that what ever chant or phrase opened the gate would have to be actioned in under 5 seconds, since there was no interruption in the footsteps. I put Madeline on the horse and mounted behind her. I told Cho to get on his horse, and made for the Fire Gate. I wanted a look at the Courts from the outside and a feel for the structure of this Shadow. Once we were about two miles away, I turned the horse around and looked back the way we'd come , fixing the image in my mind for future reference. I then drew the Trump for the Way station.
The return trip to Amber was a little less tiring than the outward trip. It may be that I'm becoming more proficient in using Trumps and therefore the effort required is less. Only time and practice will tell.

It took longer than usual for the guards to lower their weapons, and I had to help Madeline off the horse. I asked directions from the guard captain and took her to the infirmary to get her leg treated, before heading to the dining hall, Trumping Random on the way to let him know I'd returned. He hadn't expected me back so soon but said he'd meet me in the dining hall to discuss my findings.
By the time I'd finished, Random had the grin of a cat about to eat the succulent mouse he'd spent the last half hour playing with on his face, although when he'd thought about Bleys having a servant to wipe his arse, he'd had to pour himself a large drink. He told me to write everything up and file the report in his in tray.
When I mentioned Madeline, he asked what type of Chaosite she was. I said I didn't know. He said he'd go talk to her. Perhaps I need to get her to explain about the different Chaosite groupings when I get the chance. I also explained about the punishment I had in mind for the captain who'd tormented her. Random said he'd think about it. When I asked him if he had anything else he needed doing, he said I was free to take a few days off.

One thing that the last few days had shown was that Trumps could be remarkably useful things, allowing you to come and go as you pleased, and giving you the ability to talk to people in places where technology doesn't work, and over greater distances. Whilst I'm no great artist, computers are great things for refining basic talents, I could at one time sketch passably. I decide to go and see Gwilliam to determine how easy it was to learn to draw trumps.
I found him as usual in his studio, in the process of sketching some army captain for Archie. After he finished he asked what I wanted, and I explained. He beckoned me over to a cupboard, from which he withdrew a folder bursting at the seams. Contained within were trumps in every style imaginable, even some cubist ones which hurt your head just to look at. Basically if you can draw to a decent enough standard you can create a Trump. I told him I'd be back when I could do on paper with a pencil what I was capable of doing on a computer screen. I didn't realise at the time the exactitude of what he said but now it quite intrigues me, " It would be interesting to see a set of Trumps that only world in technological worlds"
After I left Gwilliams studio, I asked as couple of the servants whether they knew of any art teachers in the city. They said I was best to ask the Curator of the castle Gallery. It appears from what he tells me that several of the Amberites have been avid art collectors over the years, and there are several paintings in the gallery that have gone missing from galleries in various shadows over the centuries. He agreed to give me the coaching that I needed and I said I'd see him in the morning. However as I write this I have decided on a better course of action, which I will pursue in the morning.
Whilst relaxing after dinner, I chose to glance out my window. There was a cloudless sky and a full moon. As I moved onto the balcony, I saw the city of dreams, solid and beckoning, painted onto the sky high above me. I can't really explain why but I had the sudden urge to talk to another one of my fathers. I grabbed VoidRever, and my Trump deck and raced for the stables. Saddling a horse I raced for the steps that led to Tir-na Nog'th.
Dismounting, I turned the horse loose, sending it back in the direction of the castle, and extracted the Trump of the Castle courtyard from the top of the deck. Placing it in my top pocket, I scanned the sky. Not a cloud in sight, which was a good sign. Gingerly I started to climb the steps. It is difficult to describe the sensation of climbing stairs into nothingness, a fatal fall waiting a slip of the foot. As I climbed I grew in confidence until I was running for the top. Once there I traced the path, as I would do were I in Castle Amber itself, that led to the pattern room.
As I set foot upon it, the sparks started to rise and the familiar resistance offered comfort from the two mile fall were the moon to be covered by cloud. As usual, about 10 minutes into the walk round the pattern my father appeared. Like his 'true' self on the 'True' pattern he failed to recognise me, nor did he recognise May-Ling my mother, he even wanted to know which idiot had named me Cordelia for it was not a name he would have chosen. I asked him about Cymnea, Oberon's first wife, but he knew little more than I did. Benedict would be the best person to ask. When I told him of Benedicts death he was saddened, although he was intrigued by what I had learned of his own, and positively joyous at the news of Fiona's passing. When I mentioned the gate he did state that there were ways of forcing it open. Thinking out loud I said I'd have to ask Barbie. He wanted to know what use a plastic doll was, which when I explained the reference to Fiona's Elf daughter, caused us to laugh. When I casually suggested banging her head on it, he suggested I kept going until there was nothing left but pulp. When I told him she also had a son, he suggested I use his has as well, after all two heads are better than one.
We lapsed into silence for a bit, then I asked him if he had many visitors. He said he did not, mainly due to the fact that Tir-na was only 'up' for seven days a month and generally could only be visited for 5 of those. I said I'd come and visit him again. He said he'd like that.
I finished the walk in silence and then used the pattern to take me to my room. Looking back on it I should have gotten it to shift me to a fast stream shadow, with Earth or Amber like qualities, where an art tutor was expecting me as his pupil, to learn to draw in oil pencil. Now I'll have to do it the hard way and ride shadows in the morning.