I woke up starving, my stomach so empty it thought it was ready to do battle with my throat for something to put down in it. I was chewing on the pillow case when the green lady came in the darkened doorway with a tray. I could smell food and was more interested in that than her.
She set the tray next to the bed, raised my shoulders and tucked a napkin under my chin. “I see you’re awake, Raven. Or do you prefer Corbin?”
A bowl of something yellow that steamed---some kind of soup. Toast spread thick with jam or marmalade. Stewed apples. Thin slices of white flesh that looked like poached fish. A dozen small tarts. My mouth filled with saliva and she smiled at the goofy expression on my face.
“Raven, are you the tiniest bit hungry?”
“Oh yes, ma’am. Are those fruit tarts?”
“Passionberry. Your grandfather’s favorite. Would you like one?”
“Yes, please.” I watched her gently pick one up and hover it in front of my mouth.
“Where were you born, Raven? Your mother’s name?”
“Ireland, near Derry. On St. Michael Day. Conceived on Midsummer’s Day.” She placed the tart in my mouth and it tasted so heavenly I ached for more.
“Slowly,” she cautioned. “Your tummy isn’t quite up to solid food yet. How would you like to try some soup?”
I nodded, quite aware of how this game was played. “My mom’s name was Amber. Amber Murphy-Sines. She was an American exchange student in Ireland studying dolmens and henges for her Masters. That’s all I know, all Murphy told me. She died when I was three years old. I don’t remember much about her.”
She spooned the soup down my throat. Rich with meat juices, it hit my belly with a pleasant warmth and I felt it sending tingles of energy to my toes. She was careful, spilled nary a drop or missed my mouth. With a start, I realized she was blind.
“How can you---?” I shut my mouth as I considered my rudeness.
“See what I’m doing? You just noticed, dear boy? Years of practice and a sixth sense, young Raven. More?”
“No, thanks. I’m full.” I was and the food churned in my gut making me sleepy. I asked for a drink and she held an ornate flask to my lips, I tasted what seemed to be fermented fruit juice with a slightly bitter/sweet aftertaste.
“Good?” she smiled and I knew she was amused that I had nodded. “It is from my city, called Rebma, the City under the Sea.”
“Rebma is Amber spelled backwards,” I said, leaning forward. She seemed to sense me doing it and did not move away when my fingers traced the line of her cheek, nose and lips. She did the same to me, seeing my face through her delicate finger tips. “Rebma can only be seen and accessed when the moon is aloft and full, Raven. Not everyone is allowed to visit the mirror City of Amber. When you come to see it, you will find that it is a perfect mirror image of Amber. My sister, the Queen, will make you welcome.”
Today, she wore a pale lemony gown that trailed the flagstones and pearls glimmered softly at her neck, ears and forehead. The gems had that unmistakable essence of true uncultured pearls and were the palest green, no less magnificent than her skin.
“You live under the water?”
“I live here in the Palace with my husband, your great-uncle, the King. King Random. He is your father’s Uncle, more closely related than any of your other uncles and aunts.”
“He’s a lucky man to have you, Your Majesty, ma’am,” I bowed my head, my British upbringing kicking in after Murphy’s stringent lessons on Royal etiquette.
“We’re among family, dear. No need to bow and scrape. After all, I can’t see it. Besides, your father is King of the Courts of Chaos. which makes you a royal Prince.”
I snorted. As if that would buy me a cup of coffee or slack from Murph. “Do you have any children, ma’am?”
She sighed. “None, yet. The Realm is still too unsettled to risk children.”
“War, here?”
“A bloody civil war between brother, sister and father, Raven. In which your grandfather nearly lost his life and unspeakable horrors were done to him. So be patient with him. I will send a young man to be your valet. You may trust him to do your bidding.”
“I don’t need anybody to help me, I have Murphy,” I protested.
“Murphy?”
“My...morph.”
“And where is this morph?”
“I lost him somewhere between Hawaii and here,” I said slowly. “He’ll find me. He’s bound to me somehow,” I realized it was true, no matter how far I’d gotten from Murphy, he always found me. “I think he sent me here so the dudes who hurt me would chase him instead. When he’s lost them, he’ll join me.”
“You said Flora sent them?”
“Yes. Who is she?”
“Corwin and Random’s elder sister. Different mother than both Random and Corwin.”
“Nice family you belong to,” I said sourly.
“You should meet Luke, or Brand and Eric. Thankfully, Luke remains on Earth and the other two are dead.” She took her hands off my face and laid them on her lap. The silk of her gown rustled crisply. “You have a remarkable face, Raven. I see your father and grandfather in you and also, the blood of Dara. Very little of your mother. Was she blonde, brunette or redhead?”
“Dark-haired with green eyes.”
“What color are yours?”
“Yellow.”
“Surely not yellow? Perhaps golden brown or blue?”
“Golden yellow. Murphy says my eyes are like my grandmother’s. Like a wild cat.”
“Your grandmother was not human,” she said softly. I heard a bell chime in the hallway and she rose lithely to her feet. Leaned over me and kissed my cheek. She smelled of lilies and sharp ocean breezes. “I must go, duties await me. Eat what you can, when you can. Liam will be here to help you. Rest. I will stop in later this evening and read to you.”
“Thank you, I would like that,” I said sincerely and watched her glide smoothly across the room, out the door into a hallway, catching a glimpse of an armed guard standing at attention. He had a sword at his hip and two daggers at his waist from the quick glimpse I caught before the door closed. Not someone I wanted to tangle with in any condition.
The room I looked at for the first time with clear eyes. There weren’t any windows and even though I’d heard this was a castle, I’d still expected windows even if they were only arrow slits. No bathroom, either. I wondered if I was supposed to use a chamber pot. I’d never actually had to resort to those, even in the cabin in West Virginia, we’d had an outhouse.
I could move. Barely. Since I was already sitting up, I scooted further onto my butt and slid my legs over the bed edge. My feet didn’t reach the floor. Not until I slid my hips totally off the mattress did they hit the floor. I shivered as my toes touched cold stone. I bet it sucked to get out of bed in the winter here.
I was in a nightgown, made of thin wool that was soft as cotton, a buttery yellow and had crests on the breast pocket and collar. Long sleeves with rolled up cuffs at my wrists that fell back to reveal two IV lines in my hand and elbow. The IV pole was tucked behind the headboard and I pushed it ahead of me. My first steps were mere inches, movement of any kind was a pain, pulled at my belly and made my head swim. I was in danger of blacking out and falling flat on my face.
Whining and cursing, I made it to the end of the bed in stubborn anger by using the pole and the bed to hold me up. Past the bed and to my right was a short half wall and beyond that, an alcove with an overstuffed chair. A thick upholstered recliner, couch and a table with a brace of candles that glittered on a bowl of shiny red and green apples. A closet I couldn’t open and an armoire with a classical guitar in the corner. A hand carved shelf on the wall which held several busts of men that I recognized as Corwin, Random and the man named Bill. An exquisite sculpture of two cavorting unicorns, another of dolphins leaping out of the sea. I knew without anyone telling me, that they had been created by Vialle. She was truly talented.
I sank into the recliner and put the footrest up, shaking from total exhaustion that my little jaunt had induced. It wasn’t in me to return and I would have given my left nut for another drink. Unless the glass managed to walk over on its own, I would have to wait for assistance.
Just about when I had almost fallen asleep in the chair, I heard a knock and the tread of booted feet entering the room.
“Holy hell,” Corwin exclaimed. “He’s gone!”
“Not so fast, Cory,” the lawyer man said. “He’s too hurt to have escaped past bruiser out there and Doc said the pain meds would keep him too sedated to do much mental hi-jinks. He can’t have gone far.”
I closed my eyes before they found me in the chair and pretended to snore.
“Looks like an innocent babe, doesn’t he?” Corwin snickered.
“Frankly, I’m surprised he made it that far. The Queen’s been here with lunch. He ate a little and I don’t see any puke, he’s kept it down. You awake, kid?”
“I am now,” I said grumpily. “Make yourself useful and hand me a drink. Please.” I watched him poke about on the tray and bring me the flask with the juice. He smelled it.
“Cuke wine. From Rebma,” he held it out and I took it.
“Cuke wine? Like from cucumbers?” I asked staring at my...grandfather’s face. He looked no older than 35 or maybe 40, tops. Today, he was in black jeans and silver blouse, with long sleeves and darker embroidery on the collar and cuffs. Black leather belt, boots and a scabbard. I saw the hilt of a sword, the handle was a silver rose and he wore another at his throat. He looked every inch a demon Lord or King. His eyes twinkled. It was like looking into a mirror twenty years down the road.
“Your mother?”
“Amber Murphy-Sines. Murph says she met my father in a pub in Ireland doing a tour of folk singers,” I answered before taking a deep drink. I could get used to this stuff, even if it was vegetables.
“Was she into computers?”
“I don’t know. I was only three when she died.”
“What did she die from?”
“Murphy wouldn’t tell me but that was the start of us running. We ran across the ocean to America. From cities to towns to villages staying no more than a year, sometimes only weeks before we moved again. Mostly, we lived on the streets. Homeless.”
“How old are you, Raven? What kind of schooling do you have? Have you had any health care, shots, a birth certificate?” Bill questioned.
“Who are you?” I stared at his round, bland face. His dark brown hair and eyes were so comfortably normal.
Corwin said, “This is Bill Taylor, my friend and lawyer from your Shadow. He’s known me for thirty years.”
“Murphy said Tuesday was my 15th birthday. He gave me a Krillian dagger,” I said sadly. “I lost it.”
Corwin started. “I gave Merlin a dagger like that when I met him. Tuesday, we found you on Friday. You must mean Tuesday two weeks ago,” he mused. “Doc said your wounds looked older when he treated you, and that was a week ago.”
“Two weeks! I’ve been here two weeks?”
“Have you seen the hole in your belly? You’re lucky you’re alive. If it weren’t for your Amber blood, you’d be dead. Those things gutted you. He said someone treated you first and saved your life. Who would that be?”
“Some doctor named Ooly. Julian’s doc,” I answered.
He jumped at that. “You met Julian?”
“Great brother you have there,” I complained bitterly. “If he didn’t hate those goons more, he would have left me to die. As it was, he told her to come get me.”
“Her?”
“Flora. Your sister.”
“My Father, Oberon had many wives,” he said mildly. “And there were nine of us Princes in Amber. We’re actually half brother and sisters. Made for a tangled mess of succession when Oberon died. Eric led the war and we won. Wait until you meet Dworkin.”
“Dworkin? Sounds like a dwarf,” I said suspiciously.
“Dworkin is one of a kind,” he grinned and he held out a pack of cards. Gestured for me to pick them up. As soon as my hands touched them, I felt incredible cold come off the surface of the cards. I dropped them, stared at him as if he had tried to poison me.
“I don’t play cards,” I stated flatly.
“The cards felt weird?”
“Not weird. Ice cold.”
“Perhaps just one, then,” He handed me a single card and I took it gingerly by the corner tip, flipped it over to stare at an image of a young man that I knew was his son and possibly, my father. It was almost like looking into a mirror save that his eyes were greenish brown and mine golden yellow. He wore his hair slicked back and short, mine was longer and had the same tendency to curl at the temples and stick out over my ears.
His eyes were mine, same shape, same tilt but where his were greenish brown, mine were the yellow of a cat and clearly unique. My pupils were black and made the yellow even more feline.
“Who is he?” I asked pushing the card back into his hands. I wanted no part of them, they burned like ice fire.
“Merlin, my son. King of the Courts of Chaos,” Corwin replied. He studied me. “The cards are the Tarot of Major Arcana, a communication device that allows each one of us to contact the others. They can be blocked as well.” He shuffled them through his palms and showed me all of them, naming the whole lot from Dworkin to Oberon and down to Merlin’s. I saw Vialle and Flora’s, Julian’s and from my sharp intake of breath, he knew who I’d met. Last, he showed me the Unicorn, the Pattern, a ruby necklace and a strange wheel that shimmered. “This one only Merlin and I have the Trump for,” he said. “Did you find Julian in a...giving mood?”
“Yeah. He was giving me back to the creeps that hurt me. He’s a big asshole,” I retorted. “He wasn’t going to help us until Murphy shamed him into it.”
“Julian has no shame. If he helped you, it was because it was beneficial to him. Where is your morph?”
“I dunno. I thought he’d find me by now.”
“How do you feel? Up to a tour of the castle?”
I looked at them, at my night dress. Raised an eyebrow. “ Not going out in a dress, man. So not cool."
“We can spare you a robe and a wheelchair,” he grinned. “The Doc doesn’t want you straining his repair job.” He called over his shoulder and the guard came in pushing the mentioned articles. My IV bag and pole was added to the chair, I was carefully covered in a plush floor length velvet robe in royal purple that said Gucchi on the pocket (I asked about the weird spelling but was told it was correct for Amber) and deposited in the chair before I could voice a protest. Besides, I really wanted out of that room.
The guard introduced himself as Devlin, he was from the Capitol, the city that lay down the road from the castle. He was young, fit and on a first name terms with both Corwin and Bill. The Doctor’s name was Henry Flauvel, and he OK’d our expedition as long as I was in the chair and escorted by the Prince.