"These Chains" was written because I felt I really owed the "Courts of Chaos Con" some fiction, what with my pro-Chaos stance, and because I knew I'd enjoy it. I had great fun writing it; Fiona, Bleys, and Brand are all a little too real in my mind. This "What-If?" story let me throw in a lot of list-friendly references, some stuff specific to the campaign I was running at the time, and overall just shake stuff up a bit.

In further, thanks to "Arref" who helped me resurrect this file when I lost it.

These Chains

If you were to stand in the Concubine's Court¹ in the gardens of the Obsidian Castle², you could count four towers in the distance. If you were a guest of the Emperor of Chaos, you might have learned their names. If you were the Emperor's lover, you might even have climbed the stairs to Ama³, the Tower of the East. If you were his Executioner, you would know what lies at the top of Shi⁴, the Tower of the West. If you were the Keeper of the Logrus, you would know what lies underneath the Tower Ja⁵, extending like a long needle to the North. If you were the Emperor, your bones would someday rest in the locked Tower Timu⁶, to the South, closest to the Pit.

There is no other place in the universe like the Obsidian Castle. The magic of its towers are woven around and through, and each piece of the Throne of Chaos (the whole of the Castle, and the place where it rests, not the actual Obsidian Throne) are but intersections in the web⁷ of the Emperor's power.

The four towers reminded me of home⁸. I had to admit to some homesickness, though we had been well treated here.⁹ I missed the stars of Amber's evening. I wandered through the Concubine's Court, trying to match the constellations to the ones I know so well.

My reverie was interrupted by a familiar voice. "They're not the same, you know. Whether by Dworkin's design¹⁰ or the accident¹¹ of Amber's birth." Brand sat on the bench near the Serpent's Scale; a fountain often used for scrying and baptism by the Serpent's Priests.¹²

"Did you think they would be?" I asked, sitting next to him. I did not need to ask how he had come to be here. He had felt my sadness¹³, and, as ever, hoped to cure it.

He smiled and put a hand on the velvet of my skirt. I reached out to clasp my fingers around his. He squeezed gently, reassuring, and looked upwards, watching the glittering for a moment more.

I studied him. Jasra had broken his heart.¹⁴ It was something you could read in the way he had let his hair grow ragged, and in the sloppy way he had dressed tonight. I felt it in the lines of pain in his face, the distance you could tap in his green eyes. He was here with me now, but of late you could see that he wandered in a world apart, alone.

I touched his cheek with my other hand. He flinched. He had not shaved for a few days, and I ran a fingertip against the thin hair on his jaw. He looked at me for a moment, and sighed as if defeated, letting my hand loose. I reached for it again, taking it to my lips, and kissing his fingertips once. His smile was unconvincing. "Am I so transparent?" he asked.

"Am I so opaque?" I taunted. At his smile, I relented, giving up the hand.

His smile grew, and this time it was real. "I came to cheer you, sister." He glanced again at the stars. "I did not mean to burden you further," he said, looking directly at me.

"There is no burden we cannot bear together," I said, almost as if it were a reminder. He was silent, so I continued, lamely, as if to fill the darkness. "And together, none of us will need be lonely."

It was the wrong thing to say, and I should have known it. He pulled away, his hands gripping into fists. The feel of his mind near my own went cold and faint.

"Don't," I said, and stopped.

"Don't?" he mocked. "It hurts...Of course it hurts." He sighed, making an effort to calm. He stretched out his hands, taking a deep breath and retreating to the comfortable places we kept in our minds for each other. He moved towards me, wrapping an arm around my back and leaned his head against my shoulder.

"I was a fool," he said, quietly. If there was a way to make the words without sound, without breath, he had just done it.

I wrapped my arms around him, turning so he rested his head on my chest. "Shhh." I kissed his dirty red locks. -It is never safe to love, dear brother.-

-I left you. I left the both of you,¹⁵- he said, the wave of his guilt crashing against me. He and I were still, the rhythm of our breathing matching, slow and almost silent.

-You loved her,- I said, trying to untangle myself from his conflicting emotions. There was pain, and fear, and love, and even the echoes of old hatreds wrapping around me.¹⁶ -There can be no shame in it, Brand.-

I knew it then, and I tried not to show it, not to tense, not to gasp. He tried to hide it, then pulled away, quickly.

"It's not..." I broke off.

"A son," he said. -Do we ever grow from Oberon's shadow? He will haunt us forever in our Family.-

-Dworkin taught us more than Oberon ever did,- I denied it. To my very bones, I wanted to deny it, rip out the parts of Oberon that made us his¹⁷. The rage kindled in me, and Brand drew it to him, letting it warm his insides as well.

He stood and glanced at me. I nodded, and followed him indoors.

Bleys waited for us there, as lazy and beautiful as ever. He was stretched out on the bed, the sheets and bedclothes pulled back. He looked comfortable, turning the pages of a glossy magazine¹⁸ one at a time. He rested his head on his hand, and smiled at us. "I kept it warm for you."

Brand pulled off his shoes and climbed in behind Bleys, putting an arm around his brother, and sighing softly. Brand leaned his cheek against the bandages Bleys still wore from a fall he had taken off of Kolvir¹⁹. I sat at the edge of the bed, not in the mood for games.²⁰

Bleys felt it after a moment, his frown turning into a look of concern. "You two haven't been arguing, have you?" he asked, looking innocent. His blue eyes caught the flame from the candles that lit the room. "Or is it News?"²¹ He pronounced the capital in the word with preciseness.

I shook my head, and leaned back, laying over Bleys' magazine in a way that, were I playful, would have been a tease of vanity²². Brand's hand shot out to play with my hair, and Bleys laid his head on my stomach. I pushed him away.

"This tempted a Unicorn.²³ How am I to resist?" he said, trying to sound innocent.

"Was that Oberon's excuse? Every maiden for miles challenged the magic of his birth?" I said, soured on the subject.

-Explain mother,- Brand sent, quietly. He sounded tired.

Bleys laughed, a silvery sound. "Oh, none of us are up to that task," he claimed. He moved around on the bed, ending up with both Brand and myself curled up against his chest. He was warm.

I reached out and touched Brand's shoulder. -Does he know?- Quick, furtive. I'm terrible at keeping secrets from Bleys.²⁴

Brand looked up at me, and our eyes met. He answered with just the briefest shake of his head. I slid my hand to rest at Bleys' throat, and, without even a moment of concern, fell asleep.

To leave the Ways required an expense of magic, but a choice better than the mind-altering discipline of shapeshifting²⁵. While I had, during my training in the mystical forces, shared the shapes of many creatures, I was not prepared to make the change myself. Brand and Bleys both had suggested an interest, but I was certain that once the joke potential had been exhausted, their curiosity could remain unsated. I prepared a spell in the way of the Royalty of Chaos, gathering tendrils of magic²⁶ to unravel quickly after the casting.

I was left to my own devices until dinner. We were invited to Helgram's table tonight, despite Bleys' preference for our hosts, the Hendrakes²⁷. We were welcomed as powers in exile, as Amber was a distant memory ²⁸to many of the children here, but I also sought some distance from the strangenesses.

Outside, in the Black Zone, I had found a place for the three of us. I had yet to purchase anything in the way of furnishings. Pattern worked along different lines here, and it would bring too much attention to use it that way. I would spend the day shopping, perhaps. I had hoped for a good guard beast, and I had to arrange to have more of the spur-handed people²⁹ as servitors.

Helgram was hosting an event for the Shroudlings, and we were all to come dolled up in costume. I was looking forward to seeing the elusive Shroudling Queen, a figure as cloaked in mystery as Dworkin of Amber. It was requested on the invitation itself that no one of demonic origin would be tolerated. It was a snobbery I had heard common amongst the Helgrams, despite the many roles demons played in the Courts. I had no guess as to if it was the norm amongst the Shroudlings as well.³⁰

We would all be human there, for it would be an odd thing for a shapeshifter to dress in costume. Not that it wasn't done; a mask can mean many things in the realm of etiquette. I had Gilva choose a motif for my costume, specifying modesty as my primary concern, and she had surprised me with her good taste, something I feared my brothers would not share.

My mask was made of a glittering blue that turned green when light hit it, and it rested on my cheekbones, curving upwards and around my hair like a tiara. Two curly antennae finished it there, and a dab of gold sparkles dusted my exposed skin.

The dress was clever, the same glittering material now in a spectrum that stressed the colours most flattering to me, that strong emphasis in violet and red. It was sleeveless, fastening in gold around my throat. The skirt was long, yet very light and close around my figure. To complete it, two iridescent butterfly wings were tied loosely around my shoulders, where they would flutter as they caught delicate breezes. As long as I paid attention to where I sat or stood, they would be no bother at all.³¹

I allowed Gilva to finish dressing me, and she paid far more attention to my hair than I would have, dusting it with gold as well. Red hair is not a thing I would have thought uncommon amongst shapeshifters, but many of those in the Courts found it fascinating.³² Bleys would lead them on, saying it was the "Mark of Dworkin," and spin a tale or two about how it was magic that made it so. I merely acknowledged it a relic of my mother's, as did Brand.

Bleys entered soon thereafter to escort me. He was dressed in fine robes of a silvery blue, wrapped at wrist and waist with silver handkerchiefs. I caught sight of soft blue shoes underneath it, and he carried a staff of black wood. He had the particular grin I recognized as, "I know something you're going to dread," and I fell for it, dreading Brand's costume just as he wished.

Brand was clean and neat, obviously having let a servant cut his hair so it fell evenly around his shoulders. He had decided to shave the soft beard that had been growing around the curve of his jaw. His outfit was dark, dark red, like the colour of blood, and silken, I could see. His shirt was open to the waist, revealing his chest, and he wore a fire opal on a gold chain around his neck. Werewindle loosely rested at his side, against the tight pants I tried not to notice too obviously. A thin golden coronet rested underneath his hair.

"A butterfly," he said, smiling. It could have been mocking, if it had come from Bleys, but from Brand, the smile was a compliment.

I nodded. "And I see our brother wishes to be a wizard tonight, but, if I may ask, dear one," Brand smiled even more warmly, "what are you posing as?"

"Ah," he was pleased that I had asked. He ran a hand through his hair. "I am a Prince of Amber, of course." Bleys grinned widely at the joke. I sighed, shaking my head.³³

The young Prince Alistair himself greeted us at the gates to Helgram. His entourage consisted of his Consort, the Lady Ojin, and two others encased in the white shell armour of the Helgram Guard³⁴. I could sense very little of their presence without extending myself, a terrible lack of etiquette should I be caught³⁵. Alistair spent too much time over my gloved fingers (mother of pearl, like my wings) and Lady Ojin (of Minobee, I believe) returned the favour by gazing for a long minute into Brand's eyes.

The Prince was dressed as a pirate, I believe. One eye was covered by a sequin'd black patch, and his clothing was similarly black and loose, tied around the waist with a ragged red sash, and with a cutlass abominably festive. His blond hair was long and loose around his shoulders, but his skin was terribly soft and pale.

The Lady Ojin wore a soft kimono of pale green, embroidered with images of the Serpent in mid- feed. Splashes of blood from the Serpent's victims made a grisly presentation on the robe. Two large steel clips with Serpentine images held her black hair. Someone had seen fit to draw a silver Serpent across her eyes, contrasting with her black skin. It branched across her nose, her right eye its head, and its tail curled around her left cheek. I did not think to ask her the name of her costume.³⁶

The gates were closed behind us by more of the white-shelled guards. I held Brand's hand, somewhat nervously, as we walked through what Alistair called the "Hall of Visitors." Every few feet was another artistic masterpiece, each a different medium from the last. I savoured the thought of an afternoon spent examining each piece, but at our pace I was only allowed a glimpse here of a Serpent rending a Unicorn in stone, or a Phoenix in flight done in tapestry, each feathering gleaming with some gold, or a young man fighting a hydra drawn in dark red on a vase of some sort. The corridors were arched, and we passed many hallways and rooms. Some rooms were open, and their windows never seemed to fall on the same landscape, a trick we had admired in Dworkin, but was not common in Hendrake.

The floor was done in a pattern of grey scale, with the occasional lighter or darker scale to provide a focus for the eyes. I saw many guards, but few servants along this route. Once I thought I saw the eyes of the Unicorn, Herself, pass me in a mirror... but I must have been mistaken.³⁷

Black doors opened at the end of the hall into a mass of people and sounds. Most of it was the din of loud conversation, but there was some music in the background. I smiled. Ballroom dancing was not all that different from Amber to Chaos, or at least the music was similar.

Alistair had us introduced into the motley mob, but I doubt if anyone could have heard it against the background. I entered first, as befitted a lady, and sought some sort of order to the room.

It was a cavernous room, four times as tall as it needed to be, and then some. The ceiling was dark and stalactites seemed to reach down, covered with glittering lights like stars in a jet-black sky. The floor was like black velvet, and somewhat slippery.

The majority of the light came from pods and mage globes towards the back of the room, near where a white couch-like throne was rested on a very tall stage. Three of the walls were long, smoky mirrors, from which people would move in and out, somewhat disconcertingly.

Most of the crowd was focused near the Throne or the long bar that parallel'd the mirror to the right. A large area of the room was cleared for musicians and dancing, and to my delight there were a number of dancers. I turned around to locate my brothers, to see if I could be escorted for a song.

Bleys had already developed a throng of women, and he was paying attention to the lot of them, somehow managing to answer every question with a witty comment, and allow each of them to pet his robes at the same time. This was his element, and he shone.

Brand came up beside me, quietly, touching my hand. "He would have made an excellent King," he said, smiling as he saw the direction of my gaze.

"You are not jealous?" I asked. Low voices seemed to carry well, even against the background noise.

"If I were ever to gain a kingdom, it would be for power, not for its people," he said. He looked somewhat sour at the thought. "I am a magician, not a leader of men."³⁸

I smiled and squeezed his hand. "You are a Prince of Amber," I reminded him.

"Heir to worlds without end, and magic no one else shall ever opportunity to conquer," he pronounced loudly, eliciting a giggle from a woman dressed as an otter. He winked at her in a bawdy imitation of Bleys, and she blushed and went back to her own conversation.

"Shall we gain an audience with the Queen?" he asked, after his brief encounter.

I agreed, watching him, quietly. While it offered me a sudden pang of jealousy, I thought that maybe it would be best if he sought other company tonight.

We made our way through the horde, to a line of people who were addressing the Queen of Nightmares,³⁹ as the Shroudlings styled her. She wore ivory and gold, and her face was pleasantly plump. She had grey eyes, and she looked out from a mass of silvery hair. We bowed and spoke some proper words and she smiled and nodded and we backed up and left. I do not know what her costume was supposed to be, either, but I suspect she was a Queen and thus felt privileged to ignore the dictates of fashion.

"She dies tonight," Brand commented, as we pushed our way to the bar. I desired something terribly vulgar and fruity.⁴⁰

"Did she do you a disservice?" I sought, confused.⁴¹

"Oh, no," he laughed. "I have no quarrels here, my sweet. It is the nature of the Shroudling Queens. She is sacrificed when her time is done and a new Queen is chosen.⁴² Be careful they don't pick you," and that last I knew was a tease.

"You must have studied," I said, solemnly. He always surprised me with information he had picked up, notes and interesting histories and measures⁴³. Sometimes I suspected him of making things up to entertain his occasional audience.

"I overheard Prince Alistair mention it," he admitted. "It saved me from having to ask the question," he said, raising his hand to gesture towards the bartenders. He managed a seat for me from a man dressed like a black squirrel, muscling in on one of the few people shorter than I am, here.

"What think you of the Prince?" I asked, conversationally. We discussed many of the heirs to the Throne, as was the wont of conversation around us. A woman dressed as a silver lizard, and a clever androgyne dressed as a gryphon joined our talk with their own opinions. I turned down a delightfully polite offer of rendezvous with the lizard, and Brand and I sought the dance floor.

"What think you of the Prince?" Brand asked me, as we stepped into a slow waltz.⁴⁴

"You don't mean Alistair," I said, studying him closely. One-two-three, one-two-three passed. He shook his head.

"Corwin escaped," he said, quietly.

"As you foresaw,⁴⁵" I added, dropping my gaze. "He's too mean to die,⁴⁶" I said, trying to lighten the tone.

"Indeed." Brand swung me around. "He'll try again, you know. Between Eric and himself, there is too much pain."

"Eric spared him," I pointed out. "For what it is worth, we do not kill.⁴⁷" I more spat it out, than said it. I had never been pleased with his and Bleys' antics to slow Corwin's path⁴⁸ to Amber.

"No. Any of this Court would. An enemy left to live is an enemy who will defeat you. It's a Hendrake saying. ⁴⁹" He held me out to twirl once, as the dance changed.

"We are not Hendrake, oh Prince of my own," I pointed out. The news depressed me.

"Prince of your heart?" he teased.

"I rule over my own desires," I warned him. "Does Bleys know?" Family gossip has been known to stay a killing blow, it is so precious to us.⁵⁰

"I'faith, 'twas he who broke the news to me. He listens to how the owl sings." Deirdre,⁵¹ then, was still in contact with him. "And before you ask, the run down is simple. Deedee remains in Rebma, and has persuaded Moire to stall Eric's request. ⁵² Llewella remains an enigma. Caine and Gerard still guard the seaways, Julian the forest." He looked at me strangely for a moment, then continued. "Flora remains on Earth, but she is Eric's for the nonce."

"And of Random?" I asked. I held a small fondness for our youngest brother.⁵³

"Deirdre claims his wife shares a cell with him. It softens Eric's heart, and makes his incarceration easier." He shrugs.

"How odd," I decided. We moved away from the dancers. "True love, or is this a Morganthe-to-be?" I asked.

"Who knows? With Oberon gone, all things are possible, even love," Brand's eyes sparkled.

"Possible," I repeated, with a bit of a skeptic's tone.

Bleys chose that moment to come out of the crowd, ducking a giggling girl dressed like a ghost. "Shh," he hissed at me, and he picked me up a full foot and a half. "This one," he said to the ghost. He bent me towards him. -I won't hurt you,- he spoke convincingly in my mind, covering up the fact that he touched his teeth to just below my jaw, near the pulse there.

The girl gasped. "I am so sorry so sorry so sorry so sorry," she repeated, and then ran away, looking, if anything, even whiter than before. Bleys guffawed and set me down.

"And what was that?" Brand asked, cheerfully.

I gave Bleys one of my most unhappy looks.

He smiled apologetically. "That's the Shroudling greeting, my dears. To their Teve, or Heart,⁵⁴ whatever that is. A pulse to make the point."

"You could have used my wrist," I held the look.

"Ah, but it wouldn't have been as much fun!" he exclaimed. He looked over me towards the dancers. "Could I make it up with a dance, my fair, sweet, lus..." he broke off as my look narrowed, "sister?" he finished with a query.

"If you can keep your hands to yourself," I muttered. "Why is it that your libido puts the fire of your hair to shame?" I asked.

"Someone," he exaggerated the word, "has to make up for you," he said, and I kicked him in the shin.⁵⁵

I went to bed alone that night, although both Brand and Bleys crept in at different hours of the morning. I could smell a faint musk in Brand's hair, but Bleys was clean, showered, and sober. I wrapped my arms around Brand, much as Bleys wrapped his own around me, and we slept, comfortable in each other.

Bleys woke up first, and he remained calm, simply breathing in and out until Brand and I woke next to him. He nibbled my ear, and brushed past my thigh to take Brand's hand. I sighed, enjoying the tingling feeling that accompanied the nibble, as Brand stirred. Brand turned to face me, sliding up to squeeze me between the two of them. I caught the mental thread of his amusement, and smiled, matching it.

Bleys gave up the tugging of my earlobe with his teeth to run his nails down my back. I stiffened, and shook my head, ticklish and annoyed. -No,- I said, clearly.

-Play with us?- Brand asked, as I moved away, sitting up. He held Bleys' hands down. -Just play,- he said. -No more.-

I glared at Bleys. He nodded, solemnly. -No molesting,- he said, his solemnity marred by the amusement in that comment.⁵⁶ -Not even a pinch,- he promised.

I crawled over Bleys' body to the wall, and sighed. -I cannot regret my choice, brother, but that you do.- Brand moved into his arms. I closed my eyes, and was with them.

The tension broke, and my breathing calmed. I shuddered, releasing my hand from its clenched fist. Brand reached over to squeeze my hand, before he rolled out of bed, landing on his feet. "I'm going to take a shower," he said. He walked out, perfect, naked, towards the lavatory.

Bleys stretched out. -I can smell you,- he said, and there was a hint of menace to it. -I can almost taste you.-⁵⁷

I shuddered. "Go away," I said, drawing the covers up.

He turned and looked at me, and I did not like it.

When I awoke again, I was alone. The boys had let me sleep late, but I could see a note pinned to the door. Pretty little Gilva had already chosen my outfit for the day, and had left it resting on the chairs. I liked the girl, for all that they said she was Lintra's heir apparent. She had chosen something that did not require the help of a servant, so I must not have been scheduled for any audiences today.

I stopped. No, that wasn't true. I had turned down Lord Mandor's request⁵⁸ to meet yet again. He was primed to be a Duke of Sawall, and wished to ask me of magics that might be able to secure the position. I had had to make an excuse that would satisfy his honour, and an audience with the Concubine it would have to be. An hour with Bathsheba⁵⁹. Certainly not the lesser of the evils, but it would let me dress comfortably.

Bleys. I would have to deal with this as well. The Hendrakes were curious of our relationship, but not surprised or indignant. The relationships in Chaos were as amorphous and changing as the landscape. Only the responsibilities of lineage recognized children, and oft-ignored religious arguments denied most incest⁶⁰, but the rules were few so far as we had discovered.

For the love of our mentor, Dworkin, I had maintained an icy aloofness...the powers of purity, virginity, if you must be crude, held certain protections, which he had felt necessary at the time. It was he who interceded with Oberon, preventing my being married off to the barbarian Kings of numerous Golden Circle shadows. With Dworkin's...incarceration... many stresses came to bear, and my brothers and I devised a plan to lure Oberon away long enough to change things in that place of stasis.⁶¹

Brand and I loved each other beyond the bonds of kinship, and that fondness spilled over to Bleys, for all that we had shared as three. I was not uncomfortable with this, although I did not share things on a physical level with them. Our relative safety seemed to bring out things in Bleys that threatened our balance.⁶²

I looked up as Brand came into the room. He sat in front of me, swinging the chair backwards so that he could rest his arms over the edge. "I have arranged for separate rooms, he said. Before I could ask, he continued, "Yes, for all of us. Bleys...wouldn't understand."

"Certainly he would," I suggested, angrily.

"He would understand the wrong thing," Brand countered. "Perhaps you will someday choose differently, but Bleys is not the one to change you." He did not look at me.

The silence remained, heavy, and he sighed, standing up. "I must speak with him," he said.

I held out my hand, but he brushed past me and ignored it.

I wish to remember few details about my meeting with the Concubine. Her curiosities were the insatiable sort, and I mean both her inquisitiveness and her menagerie. I returned shaken by the experience.

I came back to empty rooms. It was not that my small accumulation of treasures had been rearranged, but that there was a quiet unhappiness that replaced those things of my brothers'. I could see that Gilva also felt it, for she gifted me with a pair of songbirds that filled the air with chitter and chatter and, at night, gentle, mournful song.

I did not speak with either Brand or Bleys for several days. Brand was avoiding everyone, some fit of pique of which he had never matured, and I was certain to make sure my path and Bleys' never crossed. When Bleys and I next met at the request of the Lady Ojin, the tension was not alleviated by his choice of date. He was seeing a young woman with vibrant red hair, just a few shades off from mine.⁶³ I felt a discomfort, although Mara was a pleasant conversationalist, and showed some (admittedly subdued) signs of intelligence.

Brand had declined the invitation. I had brought the young Despil⁶⁴ as my companion, in hopes to impress upon him the world of courtly graces. Lady Ojin was quite taken with him, as I had hoped, which allowed me the distraction of considering Brand's absence.

I decided to risk the discussion as Mara summoned a filmy for their departure. I was a second away from speaking the words, when Bleys interrupted my thoughts by asking me a question.

"Has Brand asked you of the Jewel?" he asked. It was surreptitious, by his apparent attention elsewhere, but his inadvertent capitalization meant only the one certain ruby of which we both knew.

I can only assume I looked as confused and curious as I was. "No, should he have?"

Bleys pondered. I grew worried as the silence stretched between us. He finally shook his head as Mara returned. She led one of the strange weaves of Shadow that would take them between the Ways, calling to it as if the magic were some disobedient puppy. He shrugged, and then took his leave without further discussion.

It was only gingerly that I approached Brand's new quarters. It was in Helgram, rather than Hendrake, and in a position of good standing given its access to royal amenities. I wondered how young Despil had fared in the Lady Ojin's clutches as I passed her suites. I momentarily paused and gazed up at the cold and dark guards who protected it.

One hesitant knock, and a more hesitant extending of my senses. I could feel his warmth just beyond the door, and he responded to my circumspect tendril of thought with affirmation. The door clicked once, then twice in quick succession, and I felt the cool tingle of released magic.

His suites were in great disarray, but such had been our mother's mortification in him since his childhood. I tsk'd, in teasing criticism, as I passed through into the front room. Brand was dressed in white robes more suited to bed or bath than to study. I assessed it as a low priority, paying more attention to examining the front room. More than slovenly, it was positively littered with books and blueprints of (after a moment's study) arcane repertoire.

"I have found the most wondrous thing," he began. He turned to look at me, brushing away his unruly hair. From the looks of it, he was suffering from the rigors of fast-time.⁶⁵ There were shadows under his eyes, an almost full growth of beard, and sparseness to his frame.

I said nothing in response, watching him with great concern.

"It was the Eye, you see," he started. It was a cryptic comment that I did not immediately understand, although it seemed to have some importance to him..

"The Eye?" I asked, knowing somehow that I wouldn't like the answer.

"The Jewel that Oberon wears around his neck is a more grisly trophy that I would have imagined," he said, leaning in, as if to share particularly juicy gossip. "Gruesome, but entirely of a magical nature -- it is more than the Jewel whose mastery decides the powers of Amber...it is the Eye of the Serpent, Itself."

I had a sudden chill, as always when the Serpent was mentioned. Whereas the Unicorn was a beast of myth and legend⁶⁶, the Serpent was a fact, the devil of these worlds. I pegged Brand's look as somewhere between smug and obsessive, and leaned back, keeping the wall behind me.

"No, no, this is it." Brand smiled at me as if I was a child. "Imagine the Serpent as a magical construct. Once It had life of Its own, each piece of It was endowed with magic to fit Its purpose. Its purpose was to hold some forces of Reality stable -- probably, he paused, "and do realize that this is only conjecture," he added quickly, "something to do with the magic that went wrong and made the Pit. The Eye, though, it could control Shadow. It's a fabulous machine of its own."⁶⁷

I gave it some consideration. Brand was not known for his wild speculation. Bleys was rather like myself in that we would allow for liberal bias in our hypotheses before testing them with magic. Brand was a schemer, not unlike Caine in careful testing⁶⁸ and holding to regular, planned stages of experiments.

Results. "I will grant it as an interesting theory, I stalled for more information, "but I must admit that I am somewhat unsure as to the applications." It was a neutral enough statement, but then his eyes focused on me, and I must admit, I was suddenly afraid.

"What of the Unicorn?" he asked.

I shook my head. It had been an unspoken agreement between us not to speak of those moments as Oberon pursued me. Dworkin had never been shy about his love for the creature, although it took many years of persuasion and the gathering of hints and details to determine that love exactly. Bleys was still amused in a childish way about it.

I looked away from Brand, for he continued to gaze at me. I briefly considered just walking away. The coward's choice, but the only sane one. I held onto the words, not daring to risk them aloud, or even in the intimacy of mind-to-mind. What would he have done if Oberon had caught me?

"`All your life you live so close to truth, it becomes a permanent blur in the corner of your eye and when something nudges it into outline, it is like being ambushed by a grotesque,'" I quoted blithely.

Brand smiled smugly.⁶⁹

"It worked once, he said.

-Once and never again.- I did not intend it as a warning. He had gone too far past the casual decree of caveat and admonition. Whatever we were to each other, to step again in the direction of his thoughts would break it.

I closed the door behind me. I had to lean against the wall, shaking. Would he have saved me? In those desperate moments, would he have left me to the Beast? The question burned in my brain, but I would never dare ask it.

Bleys and the obsequious Mara were waiting in my room. I could tell Gilva did not approve, and I ignored this obvious attempt to goad me. I sent Mara away with the young Hendrake, and then sat directly across from Bleys.

"How is he?" Bleys asked. I saw from his manner that Bleys' cowardice rivaled my own in matters to do with Brand. How this shyness differed from his normally brazen self! I relished the moment for only as long as it took to remember the look in Brand's eyes.

"Did he ask you about the Jewel?" I retorted, suddenly tired. I had had enough of these games, and did not want to play them with my brothers.

Bleys remained quiet, his earlier arrogance tempered by the quiet. He composed his words carefully, I saw, watching his expressions change and his attempts to say things he was feeling.

My patience was rewarded soon thereafter, as Bleys stood and began to pace. "He has traded his obsession for the witch with this, Fi." There was a pleading note in it. "At first, I thought he was only continuing his study of Amber's origins, as he had set out to do in this place."

He was nervous, I could tell, but I had not entirely figured out the extent of his worries. Brand was in one of his moods, I had decided. He was harmless, provided you did not stand in his way.

Bleys continued. "He has taken this farther than you may have realized. He has invoked the Serpent, standing under the Tree, and reading from the Book. He has gambled with the demons, and scryed backwards. Dworkin will not speak to him." He spoke the words with a sense of mysticism.

"Dworkin will not speak to him because Brand wants to trap the Unicorn," I said. It was the tip of the iceberg, but it was all I would give Bleys. Bleys' timidity was worrisome.

"Farther than that, Fiona. Farther," he repeated. "He had thought the Jewel was the Carbuncle,⁷⁰ and belonged to the Unicorn. Now he knows it is of Chaos. What is this knowledge worth to say, Eric?" he asked. "What is this knowledge worth to our hosts? What would it mean that the secret to stability was stolen by an old, addled wizard in love with a mythical Beast?"

"I've read the Book, too, Bleys. The Unicorn as a trickster figure, or as the Queen who creates the Universe are elementary subjects in the Church writings. The Pattern is stability, an old magical Ruby has nothing to do with it."

"You've read the Book, Fi," Bleys fixed me with his glance. "He saw the Pattern in a Jewel around the Unicorn's neck. It infected him, Fiona.⁷¹ It blazed and burned within his mind."

"Metaphor." Bleys was going somewhere with this, and I didn't know if I liked where he was heading.

"What if it isn't, Fi? What if the same thing has taken Brand?"

I shrugged. "Fire, blood, lightning, and lyre. These four burnings bring me, these four do swing me away," I quoted from a popular hymn. "You have a point, Bleys, but I don't know if I can believe it yet," I said. "It's a lot to consider."

"Think about it, Fiona. How far can we let him go, before we follow? Or before we drag him back?"

He took his leave, and I stood, tracing his path back and forth in the small room, trying not to think.

I woke up because Gilva entered the room, ablaze with the cold, aloof fury to which the Hellmaidens were prone. I could feel her anger as she carefully set the table with the morning's mix of odd textures and flavours. It was directed at something outside,that much I could read without prying. I stood and wrapped a robe around me.

I opened the Ways, to see a pitiful figure huddled and shaking in the thin corridor that extended from my suite to the rest of Hendrake. She was crying, and her hair and dress were in tatters. I recognized her too quickly. It was Mara.

She did not look at me, as I stood there, considering my options. The basic human decency I kept doing my best to ignore won out. "Bring her inside," I told Gilva. The Hendrake could not keep a sneer off of her face, but she did as she was told.

A washcloth and a robe later, Mara stopped her crying. I was both fascinated and disgusted by the way the skin under her eye and mouth would twitch. The process of healing by shapeshifters was new to me, and resembled more the act of wax melting and reforming than the pure tones of magical restoration.⁷²

I took a more detached assessment of her wounds. She had been savaged, but I found myself cold. I was beyond caring about Bleys' wickedness, and that he left her on my doorstep could not cut me any deeper. I sighed, while Gilva muttered.

I had left them alone for but a moment in order to find a gown for the girl. I came back to Gilva's badgering Mara for being weak, "No Hendrake woman would suffer an indignity," she argued. Gilva was outraged. Some of it was the shame of Mara's weak healing ability, but the shapeshifting and the curative magics I could provide would conflict with each other.

She was quiet for a moment, while I decided what to do with her. I couldn't send her back to Bleys, not with her head still attached to her body.⁷³ What sort of game was this? I broke down and decided to speak directly to the girl.

"What happened?" I asked.

I waited for the inevitable burst of tears. As she cried herself out, she whispered, "It was Prince Brand."

For a moment, I didn't believe her. "Explain yourself," I said. I held onto the arms of the chair, as if the bottom of my world had almost dropped away.

"He, he said I wasn't the right one. I wasn't you," she said. The last word was accusatory. "I, I had meant to ask your highness if I could," her bawling made her story uncomfortable and unnecessarily complicated. She had meant to ask things of Bleys' past, thinking our female nature would make us kindred spirits of a sort. Brand had come upon her, she implied, in a fit of curious rage.

There was one answer to this, and Bleys came through the Trump. He was furious. He gathered Mara up and whispered lies and promises to her to soothe. He looked at me accusingly, as she fell into slumber.

"With the number of shapeshifters about, it could have been," I began, but gave up the option quickly. Together we sought the Trump of our baby brother.⁷⁴

Brand was covered in blood, and his white robes were filthy. He was curled up in the corner of his bed, sweating, and weak. He had enough strength to pull us through, but then he collapsed. I could see livid swelling from claw marks on his cheek. That matched Mara's story of where she struck at him.

"He's in fast-time shock," Bleys said, as we stared over the mess of Brand's body. I nodded at Bleys and held out my hands to his. We spoke words in unison, using our shared connection to bring Brand a golden, peaceful sleep. I felt Shadow around us dissolve and work to our purpose.

Bleys insisted on washing him up. I moved to work on the suite. Much of the room was cleared with cantrip after cantrip, and I left some clothes on the bed. I moved into the first room, and began my journey through his experiment.

Brand wrote copious diaries full of diagrams and scribbled references to rumours and conversations he had via Trump. Bleys and I couldn't make heads or tails of his progress. It read like the diary of a madman, and those few times we could wake him, Brand claimed it was the history of Amber.⁷⁵

The dishonour done to Mara caused us to move out of Hendrake and into the Tower I had claimed farther into the Black Zone. Helgram had offered us rooms, but Bleys declined on our behalf, fearing that it was merely a contest of whim between Ojin and Alistair.

Brand's recovery was slow, and Bleys did most of the nursing, bringing Brand's metabolism back from the strain of living in fast-time. I spent time reading, and playing with the young Translucran⁷⁶, the guard beast that surrounded the Tower. News came slow from both the Courts and Amber. Helgram and Hendrake were at odds again, and strange incursions of creatures were headed towards Amber.

We found Brand often doing strange things, like tracing and retracing the Pattern on paper. He was fevered all of the time, and would have moods where he wouldn't notice we were around. Bleys was worried. "If I could, I would have Gerard look at him," he said.⁷⁷

I began to have terrible dreams of the Unicorn standing over me, as I fell backwards into darkness, a savage pain at my throat. Her eyes were reflections of Brand's, and looking deep into them, there was the same desperate madness.

Bleys and I slept together at night, wracked with despair. The first night we both cried to sleep in each other's arms. The second night, we had spent working to the limits of our energy, and just did it for convenience. It was a familiar warmth now, a needed respite from working with Brand. We were losing him. Brand felt affectionate as a puppy towards Bleys, but not loving.

A sudden clarity fell upon Brand. His fever broke, and his mood improved. He apologized repeatedly to Bleys for his behaviour. He and I spoke few words to each other, although we spent several long, awkward silences together. They became less awkward as time passed, but only time could heal this.

He spent time wandering outside. He and the Translucran never became comfortable with each other, so I had to let him in and out like a cat. He had some of Helgram come visit, no one royal, but many with blood high enough to require us to entertain. Things settled back to a friendly familiarity, but they were not as close as when we had come to Chaos.

It happened again, not more than two weeks later. Bleys found him in a circle of blood. He had several odd Trumps. I recognized a handful, including lost siblings.⁷⁸ He was burnt along his right side⁷⁹, and his eyes were blank. "It wants," was all I heard of his mutterings.

"Dworkin is gone," Bleys said, not long after that. He came in, defeated. I huddled around one of the Books of the Unicorn Brand had salvaged, looking for clues.

"Gone?" I asked, quietly.

"He didn't respond to my Trump. I could not find him in the furtive attempts I have made in Amber. He's gone," he said.

I dropped my head. "Brand and Dworkin, both," I muttered.

Bleys bent down to kiss my forehead, then stood, looking down at me. After a moment, he spoke. He nodded at the book, then, "Would She come for them?"

"I don't know, Bleys, I don't know." I shook my head.

"If not for him, then Martin?" he asked.

"What?" I glanced up, sharply.

"Random's son with Morganthe," he reminded me. He didn't have to say, "The victim," as it became painfully obvious.

"He stabbed one of the Blood?" I asked, standing up. My voice was just louder than a whisper.

Bleys understood, and panicked.⁸⁰ He looked at me, and we fled to find Brand.

Brand was resting in his bed, wracked by pain. "No more, no more," he sobbed. "Please, help me," he begged us. "It burns, it calls. The Pattern," he explained. "The Pattern is flawed!"

More mad ranting followed, and Bleys cradled Brand to his chest. "Shhhh," he rocked Brand back and forth, trying to shush him. "Shhhhh,"

We spent hours together, trying to calm him. "Come back to us, Brand," I pleaded.

Bleys spoke words of love, but lucidity waited until daybreak. Brand became still, and his breathing regular. "I stabbed Martin," he said, crisp and cold.

Bleys nodded. I just squeezed Brand's hand.

"The curse will come to me," he said. "The spilling of blood is too powerful," he broke off, and looked into Bleys' eyes. I don't know what passed between them.

He looked to me. "I don't want you in its path. Leave me here, and go to Amber. Go to Corwin." He frowned. "He is changed, Fiona. He is strong enough to protect us all."

"Is that your blessing?" I asked, bitterly.

"I never wanted to be King. The fire that burns in me does not care for what I want, does not care for what I love. I love you, Fiona." His voice was clear, and soft, and reminded me of a child. "This is the end, Fiona. It is the end of all."

Tears rolled down my cheek. I do not remember crying them, nor my eyes watering, but I can remember the salt and the feeling of them dripping from my chin.

"Bleys, you must chain me. Leave me no Trump, and bind me in the sourcery room, so that I can work no magic to leave."

"Is that really necessary?" I could not speak, but Bleys said it for me.

He did not look at either of us, and we could not answer him.

"Fiona," he whispered, as Bleys readied the chains.

I looked at him. A final request? An admission of love, perhaps? Would he beg us to reconsider? I listened to him, with all my heart.

"I must be honest, now, here at the end. I would have let Oberon have you."

There are words that can break you, and that is what happened. I said nothing. I could say nothing. Honesty, then. "I loved you, Brand. All that was mine, was yours to have." Did I say it with anger, pain, or pity? Tears shared should mean love. They don't. They just mean pain.

Bleys fastened one of the chains. "Fi, leave us," he said.

I shook my head.

He looked up at me, pain in his eyes.

I shook my head, again. "Together," I pleaded.

"Until the end, Bleys relented.

Bleys and Brand did not break eye contact as the second cuff was fastened. There was silence, and then I concentrated on the Trump of Amber.