Tome VII:
Reckonings
Konrad put down his pen, weary and frustrated. Sighing discontendly, he gazed out the window of his study to watch the bustle of Amber City. He brushed aside thoughts of Chadwick and gathered his equipment; it was time to return to the Clinic.
As he strode through the streets of Amber City, Konrad noted that he was being followed. Let's see... he thought. It is Tuesday, and therefore it will be the blonde with bad teeth. Konrad paused at a vendor selling ladies' jewelry. Examining a small silver hand mirror, he gazed upon his pursuer in the reflection. Indeed, it was the usual Tuesday guard...a man by the name of Darius, who often drank at Bloody Mike's. Oh, yes, I know him well...and there may come the day that he will know me as well. Pity, really. Konrad had already long grown weary of Karl's spies...following him through Amber City...intercepting his messages...doing their part to ensure that he would feel unwelcome in Castle Amber. Not that it really mattered. Through shapeshifting and sorcery Konrad found it depressingly easy to avoid them. In the form of Lauren, he delivered his own messages...aided by subtle spells that made him unnoticeable to those guards of Karl's...five of them total. Still...he longed to waylay one of them and present his 'father' with a rather hideous reminder of his own power. But there is little point in escalating the conflict between us. Let him think he has me under control...watched and warded. Let him think me weak. I know better.
The waiting room in the clinic was fairly empty, only three patients. Two he knew of already...Ghenesh returned to obtain more tonic for his stomach, which was ulcerous, and Lydia on time to have him look over the broken ankle he had mended some weeks ago. The old man with the bandaged hand was new to him, however, and so Konrad called him to come to the back room.
The patient seated himself, and Konrad began his usual dialogue of questions...a routine that had become almost second nature to him, when the old man set aside his hat and wig, to reveal himself as Random.
Konrad stood very still for a moment...wondering, and then simply said, "Your majesty." The king had by now received his letter, which had stated his wish to walk the Pattern and the reasons behind this wish.
Over the next half hour they talked of many things...of Karl and his guards, of Konrad's desire to walk the Pattern and its possible consequences, and about the Sons of Eric. Eventually the King resumed his disguise and trudged off...leaving Konrad to think on many topics. He had promised to investigate the Sons of Eric, and had received permission to essay the Pattern. And strangely enough, the King was well aware of Karl's little interferences. Things were delicate with regard to his status, however. Thus Random was more disposed to keep the issue of his walking the Pattern under wraps. "Let them know afterwards," he said.
Konrad took care of his remaining patients and closed the clinic early. There was much to think about, and he hated to attend to patients when he was unable to focus on his work.
Two weeks later, Lucien was journeying to Tovignea, accompanied by a number of others from Amber City, including Brandon the weaver. They arrived by boat and proceeded overland on horseback, arriving at a small stone temple. In the back of his mind, Konrad realized that this venture was too risky, but he knew how to resolve the situation. If all else failed, he could always trump out.
The ceremony was much the same as those he had witnessed in Amber City...the rousing of the peasants...the sharing of dreams...but he sensed the presence of the Weir...and the strangely garbed leader who kept his face hidden. Is this Torrance? Are the rumors true? Or is it another...another traitor like Jareth, sent to confuse the issue? It was too late when the warning from Britannica came; the pointed reminder came only after the Sons had pulled away from him and he was surrounded by more than two dozen Weir. And so Konrad waited. He could smell their anger...a musky odor they exhuded...and then a familiar voice addressed him...Torrence. He removed his large hat and drew his sword, which he levelled at Konrad's throat. He didn't move...though he felt the power of the sword and his flesh instinctively pulled from its touch. "May I?" he asked, and with a nod from Torrance, he reverted to his natural form.
Soon enough the issue between them was resolved, when Torrance realized that Konrad did not come there to spy upon him, but rather to ascertain whether or not this group was a threat. "In truth, I knew not that you were a part of this. I had heard rumors that the son of Eric was involved, but I attributed this to simple gossip from those who wish you to be in the King's ill graces," Konrad stated. Torrance, as ever, was easy to set aside suspicion and the two chatted amiably, sword resheathed.
After Konrad returned to Amber City, he penned a short note to King Random:
The Sons of Eric are little more than motley collection of mildly frustrated peasants who long for 'better days'. Though they could be made to revolt by a strong leader, they themselves lack the power to be anything more than a nuisance.
Torrance is involved with them to some degree...less a leader and more an object of reverence. He was lead to them out of curiosity and enjoys the adoration they give him. I doubt there's more to it.
Be aware, however, that the Weir have also found the Sons of Eric. They are a formidable group, great in number, and could be a threat. Without Eric they lack leadership and purpose...I can only assume that Torrance will fill that role. I less fear that Torrance would motivate them to something unsavory, as much as fear that they might be used in some fashion to ruin him. They are strong and dangerous...and I wonder how easily swayed they are.
It was only a week later that the letter arrived.
Konrad was sitting in his room, idly contemplating what to do about Chadwick. He had returned Chadwick's com device earlier with a simple note saying thanks; he'd wanted to say much more but instead kept silent. With Chadwick, he would always say too much...too much for his and Chadwick's comfort. He had also had a rather unpleasant conversation with Quynn earlier, who was much irritated with him over the matter of his letter to Kianne. They had originally talked of Karl, as Quynn had finally gotten wind of his shenanigans, but eventually that topic turned to Kianne. There was little resolution between them. Konrad felt the need to hear her side of the story; Quynn was certain that she would bring him only pain.
And then came the storm.
A rare thing for a storm to come to Amber...and rarer still for one to come on so sudden. It grew dark...and windy...and cool. Konrad felt something...some shudder...some omen...a warning that he couldn't understand. And then a letter was slid under his door. Looking outside he saw no one. He glanced at the letter with his socerer's sight, and detected nothing harmful to it. Opening it he saw a sloping feminine script...an invitation for him to come to the lighthouse of Cabra on a matter of some urgency. It was signed Dorian.
Konrad sighed to himself. He had been wondering how long it would be before she'd take notice of him. He had hoped for a less dramatic gesture, one free of games. Mysterious letter in a womanly hand accompanied by a sudden storm. To Konrad, it had the obvious stamp of Ariel's work about it. Ah well...nothing to do but play her little game. It's not as if I have much better to do at the moment.
For safety's sake, he trumped Cassilda and told her of the letter. He asked her permission to assume her form, which disturbed her somewhat, but she granted it. He cast one of his racked spells, creating an amulet of protection, and then he left for the lighthouse wearing Cassilda's shape. 'Twas but a few hours by horse, and soon he approached the lighthouse and knocked at the stout wooden door.
Jopin answered and seemed confused...he had been expecting a man. He gestured for Cassilda to go upstairs. In a room high up in the lighthouse, a strange man sat at a desk...upon the desk was a letter. The man looked up...beautiful really, with raven black hear and pronounced cheekbones, and inquired, "Why are you here?"
"I am here in lieu of my friend Konrad, with whom you wished to speak," Cassilda answered cooly.
"No. I wished to speak to you," he replied, his form wavering and shrinking. And before him sat a short oriental woman with blazing green eyes...his mother Kianne.
Almost reflexively Konrad assumed his natural form, his jaw agape.
This story continues in Tome 8: Transformation.