That bit of goof off stuff was so fun last night, I thought I’d do another. This is a journal I kept as part of a role-playing game. (I did it for “extra credit.”) It’s set in Roger Zelazny’s Amber universe, as the game was, so obviously I could never sell it. My character was Kairynn, Julian’s daughter (which will only mean something if you’ve read the books. If you haven’t, go do so. I’ll wait.) In our game, Amber had been destroyed, and several of Oberon’s children had worked together to create a new Pattern, and thus Lyonesse. Oh, and Llewella is Queen. (the truly observant who are also lucky enough to have read my first book, may find Kairynn seeming familiar.)
Personal Log, 7-10-34
At least, it’s 7-10-34 back in Union space. I don’t know the Lyonesse date, and I don’t care. Nothing ever changes here anyway.
Yes, I’m back in Lyonesse. It’s time for a good old-fashioned family reunion–meaning there’s a crisis, and all the family’s gathered so as to get all the suspects in one place. Seems a night of two ago, some sneak managed to get into Penelope’s quarters and snatch Aura, right before her presentation. Fuzzy-wit couldn’t stop him, though she wrestled with him. Where the hell was her knife?
Anyway, when I called Dad for my monthly lecture last night (Union time, I’ve got Trump-lag big time!) he “suggested” I come home. “Lyonesse is in danger.” Well, of course it is, all that power in one place and the whole court sitting on it and plotting against each other while they throw tea parties. No wonder every damn thing that finds its way out of Shadow has a try at us.
Snitch hates it here. I’m on guard, so of course she is, and she doesn’t like it. She had some silly idea family meant good times, I guess. I should’ve left her, but in this mess I might need any edge I can get.
We really don’t know much, meaning I don’t, and anybody who knows more ain’t talking. Tirisin saw the guy, but her head hurt, so she didn’t stop him either. She said he looked like Corwin. Shit, I hope not. He’s the only relative worth partying with.
Somebody got the brilliant idea of going back to where Amber was, to see if we can’t find some clues. I’ve been thinking of hunting up Sherlock Holmes, but it’d take too long. So here I sit at the stables, jotting a few (ha!) lines while Dad tries to get all the pretty mopsies on their oh-dear-it’s-so-ugly horses. I’m not riding one of the ugly ones either, but it’s because of brains, not looks.
At least I don’t have to deal with Alfred. He’s staying, in charge of Lyonesse defenses. What a hoot. I ran into him on the way down, strutting the halls and puffed up like a Mantixan bloat-toad. Just seeing me blew his day. Guess Dad didn’t tell him I was around. Maybe Dad does have a sense of humor.
I want to go home. But first I got to help find the kid, and help teach some idiot that only the family is allowed to screw with the family, and that you never, never, never, mess with Lyonesse. Thanks for the invite, Dad.
Day 2 (I think) in (I hope) Lyonesse, morning (Unicorn help me)
Ouch.
I think I’m still stuck in Lyonesse, since I doubt I could’ve Shadow-shifted my nose-hair by the time I tried. I guess these are my rooms, Unicorn knows how I got here. No, if I’d managed to shift, I wouldn’t be alone in the bed…
Perhaps I should start with what I do remember, make it a real log even though the only reason I’m writing is that I don’t have the energy to fall on my sword.
Well. I called Tenzin. He took his sweet time answering, till he got somewhere I couldn’t learn from what was behind him. Fine. He can be as mysterious as he likes, long as he’s on my side. I’m not going to think about whether he really is. If he’s using me to screw up Lyonesse, he sure is subtle about it, ’cause I still haven’t managed to do anything, good or bad for Lyonesse.
Anyway, apparently the wench who was sucking Dad’s blood was Dara’s Pattern-ghost, from the Pattern of Amber. Like I guessed, it ain’t quite as destroyed as we thought. That explains the Shadow-storms around it, don’t it? Why the hell didn’t anyone else notice this?
Tenzin also said to go through an old Trump deck and figure out who’s behind this. That’s a huge help. It could be absolutely anyone, the way these frigging people are. Lyonesse would be so nice if the family just bugged out.
He said he’d draw me a Trump of home. That’s awfully nice of him, proof positive he’s using me. Amberites–funny how we still use that to describe ourselves–Amberites are never nice to their relatives unless they want something. And he must be a relative, he can walk Shadow and draw Trumps. Damn, I could’ve really liked him…
After I talked to him, I went to see Llewella. She told me I could best serve Lyonesse by riding with the party to old Amber. What the hell’s that supposed to do? What possible use could I be in figuring out a mess of Pattern-nonsense and magic? After she thanked me for being a dutiful little citizen, I ran along to play like a good girl, while she moved on to “important stuff.” Has it ever occurred to anyone that if we all worked together, we might get somewhere? What can resist us, when we truly stand together? But that would require common sense, something we Amberites aren’t real long on. Pretentious, pompous, pea-brained morons. Am I the only one who sees what our paranoia is doing to us? I bet that’s why Corwin’s gone and stays that way. He seems to have outgrown all the petty plotting and lormpa-shit. Good for you, Uncle. Can I come visit?
Anyway, after Llewella I tried to talk to Martin, but he wasn’t answering his Trump, so I went to check on Dad. I told him everything, like the dutiful daughter I am. He didn’t tell me anything. Big surprise. I suggested we try process of elimination with the Trumps.
We couldn’t rule out anyone, not really. How do you know an Amberite is dead? Caine has died twice so far, everyone thought Oberon dead for years, Bleys supposedly died falling from Kolvir, Corwin’s tomb stood on Kolvir for years… By the same token, how do you know you can trust an Amberite? When he’s dead, of course. Until then, there’s always a chance he–or she–is looking to rule all of reality.
One thing’s sure, any relative dies in front of me, I’m going to make damn certain he’s really dead. Of course, it could be a Pattern-ghost or Shadow-twin… I hate this place. Back home, dead is dead.
At least while we were looking Dad treated me like I had intelligence, mumbling to himself and only patronizing when I asked questions. Must have been the knock on the head, he reverted to form soon enough, asking me to leave when Benedict came to call. I said some rude things about keeping secrets and harming Lyonesse and slammed the door on the way out. Let Dad think I’m childish. He does anyway, might as well enjoy a tantrum or two.
When I stormed out of Dad’s room, I was ready to march straight home, and Chaos take them all. But if someone screws up the Shadow-balance, my home suffers too. So I went looking for someone to do.
I found him in a nice sleazy dive down by the docks–one huge, fast, slightly drunk asshole, as ordered. To make it more of a challenge, I left off my armor and sword, and didn’t tell him what I thought of him till I was seeing three of him. He didn’t get half of what I said–I swear best in Calanian–but he caught enough.
I did good. Near all my punches connected, just less than half hit one of the three I was aiming at. Soon the whole place caught the spirit and was whaling on everybody else.
If that tavern is still standing, I’ll be surprised. One slime pulled a knife and got put through a wall. Another jerk-off pulled a sword, I wrapped it around his neck. Weapons don’t belong in a friendly fight.
Somewhere it here it gets foggy. I was grabbing bottles and mugs, gulping when I had the chance, too damn happy to sober up…
The city watch came, I remember. I was on the bar, singing one of Clown’s filthy little songs between drinks and playing king of the mountain. The whole place turned on the watch. I felt sorry for them.
Next I remember was staggering down an alley with four or five guys. We were holding each other up and singing “Kum by Yah,” I don’t know why. One of them got fresh, but he stunk, so I tossed him in the gutter and we walked on him.
Then I was on a dock, with only two guys. We were going to go skinny-dipping, but Snitch slashed me and I chased her to wring her scrawny little neck, but I’d lost a boot, and I couldn’t run right.
Then I decided I’d go home and get laid. The last thing I remember is trying to work Shadow right in downtown Lyonesse.
Then it all goes black.
At least I know I didn’t kill Snitch. She’s still alive, I can hear her sulking under the bed. Boot pieces are spread across the floor, she took her spite out on the one I still had. Oh well. My Trumps are in my pants, and Tenzin’s is there, I checked. I must’ve done that when I lost the boot, going skinny-dipping. Lucky Snitch stopped me, I probably would have drowned. Not to mention that water down there–eeewwww!
I feel much better about things now. But I gotta go puke.
I hope someone tells Llewella every single sordid detail.