When Brigid first entered the Wisconsin campaign, she was a former superhero who was very familiar with certain types of magic. However, there was a lot she didn’t know about magic, and so this story was written to describe her education in the various forms of magic available in Amber. The best place for this to happen was a school in the Golden Circle realms, a citadel in a desert realm overseen by a Djinn.
“Brigid, attending this school of the Arts Arcane will be a very educational experience, plus it is a chance to get away from Castle Amber and your duties for a while.”
That advice from Fiona still repeated itself in Brigid’s ears. She stood before a very large and ornate castle, surrounded by several smaller outbuildings that in any other place would be considered an imposing castle in their own right, designed and built more for decoration than for defense, said Brigid’s hard-won expertise in matters martial.
Above the main castle soared a tall round tower. There was a power up there, she knew, both from Fiona’s warnings and now from her own senses: a power not of the level of the Pattern or the Logrus, but a Power just the same. Then for a moment she had the uncanny sense that this Power was watching her, and judging her, then the feeling passed, leaving in its wake a feeling of subtle amusement. Brigid blinked and returned her gaze to her surroundings.
A host of wagons, coaches, and horse trains were assembled in disarray before the gates of one of the smaller outbuildings, including the coach that Brigid had ridden alone. She motioned to the coachman to deposit the trunk of her possessions on the ground before her. A host of stewards were moving the crowd, and she took the nearest by the shoulder, identified herself and pointed to her trunk. The steward nodded, and Brigid entered the gates.
Within, she discovered a crowd of young women, some in the billowing silken fineries that were the native dress of this Shadow and some in more practical clothing from a variety of nearby Shadows. She walked through the courtyard, smiling and nodding to various of the women as she passed.
As she wandered the courtyard, she became aware of a subtle enchanting compulsion whispering at the edges of her mind. The emerald ring on her finger throbbed once, then subsided: little danger, then, especially to one as naturally resistant to such enchantments as she. She looked around to discover the source of the enchantment, and was not surprised to discover the source at the center of the largest gathering of women.
There, a tall, pale, imposing beauty, with raven hair and raven eyes, was speaking to and captivating a crowd of several women, some of whom were staring wide-eyed at the woman; they appeared to have been totally enthralled by the woman’s enchantment. The whispering at the edges of Brigid’s mind intensified, and more from annoyance than from any other emotion, she passed behind the group, out of sight of the enchantress, crooked her finger towards her, and quietly spoke one Word: “Kroyka!”
The captivating enchantment shattered into shards and whorls of random magick, and many of the women blinked and shook themselves awake to stare with amazement or rage at the enchantress, then scurry away hurriedly. The enchantress looked around in fury, but Brigid had already turned away to examine the man who had entered the courtyard at the top of a set of stairs into the castle itself, although Brigid was sensitive enough that she could feel the intensity of the enchantress’ anger directed at her.
“Welcome, ladies,” he announced loudly, and every eye focused on him. “Welcome to the Citadel, home to the University of Sorcery and Enchantment.
“It is our strongest rule that here inside the castle, all are equals: there are no titles, no families, nothing to set one of you above the other. All are here because of an ability at some facet of the Arts Arcane, and here you will receive training as befits any who would consider a further career in the Art.”
There was a small muttering from the crowd, especially from the women still surrounding the enchantress.
“The stewards have already seen to your belongings and will now show you to your quarters. Dinner will be in one hour.”
Brigid looked over her accommodations. Like all of the students, she had a small room to herself, with a sturdy bed, a plain wooden desk, bookshelf and chair, and a small wardrobe. Throwing open the doors of the wardrobe, she was not surprised to discover that the sparse contents of her trunk had been unpacked and hung with care there. An open window, set across from the bed, showed the castle’s wall, and the desert beyond.
As she looked out the window, she heard a faint voice from the door beside her.
”Do I have the pleasure of addressing the Lady of the Kindly Ones, the one known as Tail’sbane?”
Brigid looked over and down at a sleek green-eyed cat with dark chocolate-brown fur standing in the doorway.
“Indeed, I am that one; and you are?” she replied in the same strange manner of cats she had learned upon her first days in Amber, and now could do without the need of transforming into a cat herself.
The cat approached and twisted itself around Brigid’s legs. Brigid grinned and sat down on the chair and the cat leaped onto her lap. Brigid began stroking him across his back, and the cat stretched in gleeful response.
“Just a little lower … yessssss…” The cat began to purr under Brigid’s petting, and she grinned.
“There he is!” said a voice from the doorway.
Brigid looked up to see two women standing in the doorway: one, a petite brunette in a plain brown robe, the other taller, deeply tanned with flowing dark brown hair wearing a dress that matched the sapphire of her eyes. The smaller one looked pointedly at the cat in Brigid’s arms and said. “Found another sucker, eh?”
Brigid motioned towards the two in the door. “I take it, he’s yours? As much as any cat is anyone’s, that is,” she continued, feeling his claws press against her leg, then retract.
“He’s my familiar: Sinister, you scoundrel, always looking to be petted, aren’t you?”
“Are you indeed her familiar?” Brigid said to Sinister, looking into his eyes.
“As much as she needs,” he replied. “I help keep her out of trouble, which is all she requires at this point. She is only modestly endowed in the Art.”
Brigid smiled again and handed Sinister to the woman. “I’m Brigid,” she said, remembering at the end the castle’s rule, not to giving her full title as Lady of the Court of Amber.
The smaller woman took the cat gratefully, then rubbed him under the chin. “I’m Star; this is L’shaya,” she continued, gesturing over her shoulder. The taller woman nodded once. “Why are you here? At least, we can ask that.”
“My mentor suggested it would broaden my experience; I’ve come to acknowledge her insight and expertise. And you?”
“L’shaya’s a healer, here to learn from the Healer-Mages; I’ve got the Sight, but not too reliably: hopefully they can help me with it here.”
Brigid nodded. Star’s Sight must certainly not be very reliable, or at least not very efficient, for her to so calmly recognize an Amberite before her.
“I heal, too, but I’ve been told not to limit myself: my mentor says I have practically unlimited potential,” Brigid said with some pride but also matter-of-factly.
L’shaya nodded over Star’s shoulder, her gaze resting frankly upon Brigid. “Wise words,” she murmured quietly. Brigid would learn that L’shaya was a woman of few words, well chosen.
There was a loud gong resounding through the corridor. Star’s smile broadened at the sound. “Dinner!” she cried, turning and scurrying down the corridor, L’shaya following dutifully, and Brigid trailing behind.
Three floors down a dining area was arranged for the thirty or so students. Most of them had already arrived: the raven-haired enchantress was most noticeable in front, with her small coterie gathered around her. Most of the other students avoided the group, not from any spell or enchantment Brigid could determine, but simply from the force of the woman’s personality.
Star deposited Sinister in the center of an empty section of the tables, one just large enough for three, and he began washing himself. Star sat herself down in the middle of the open space, and L’shaya and Brigid slid into the empty spaces on either side of her. No sooner than they had seated themselves when a small army of servants appeared from a side door carrying an array of trays, platters, and pitchers and deposited them on the tables. Without any more formality, dinner began.
Brigid, between bites, stole surreptitious glances towards the enchantress, who was acting as though she were holding court at her table. Several times Brigid saw a woman approach her, haltingly; the enchantress would say a few words to them and then give them a cold but confirming stare, and they would return to their seat. Again, Brigid could detect no spell, simply a strong and commanding personality that disquieted anyone else around her, and instilled in them the urge to seek an end to their discomfort. Anyone else, that is, except for such as the ebullient Star, who chattered unconsciously throughout the entire meal, and the silent L’shaya, who seemed to possess the calm, unyielding presence of the mountains themselves, and, of course, Brigid.
In between courses, Brigid asked “Who is she?” to Star on her left, pointing out the enchantress.
“I don’t know,” replied Star, and it was accompanied by single shake of L’shaya’s head. “Don’t worry,” continued Star, “they’ll ask us to introduce ourselves after dinner is over.”
Sure enough, as the trays and plates were being removed from the tables, three men entered and stood on a dias overlooking the room. “Good evening, ladies,” said the one in the center, the same man who greeted the women earlier, a taller man than his two companions, somehow more impressive even through they were all dressed similarly in somber brown hooded robes. “I am Carolan, headmaster of this section of the University. I hope you have enjoyed your first meal: it may be the best you have for the rest of your stay here. There was great magick involved in creating such a meal.”
There was a slight murmuring from some of the women, who, from their remarks, were wondering what they had eaten, from meals conjured from thin air to transformed beasts. There was a slight curving of the corner of the man’s lips as he spoke, and silent humor flashed in his dark grey eyes. Brigid liked him immediately, and the feeling, she noted, was apparently shared by Star as well. Brigid noticed that the enchantress held no such feelings towards the man.
“The magick of the chefs in our kitchens, of course,” said the man, chuckling and waving his hand to silence the murmuring. “We boast the some of the finest cooks in the Golden Circle, save for Castle Amber itself.” Brigid nodded to herself in agreement.
“As for you, the following weeks will be busy ones, and there will not be time for grand dinners during that time. Those of you here to learn a specific Art will find our teachers the finest in the Golden Circle: even Princess Fiona of Amber herself has come here seeking our assistance in the Art on occasion.” At hearing her mentor’s name, Brigid started, then filed the fact away in her mind.
“As for those of you who are here to learn a general knowledge of the Art, the days will be even busier. There are many fields of the Art, and we would not wish to sully our reputation by not giving you a complete introduction to any of them.”
He pointed to the men to his side. “Myself, along with my assistants here Dominick and Greyslake, are here to help make your time with us profitable and worthwhile. If there is any problem we can assist you with, feel free to consult us.
“Now that we have introduced ourselves, it is custom for our students to introduce themselves to the others.” He bowed and gestured to the women to begin.
The raven-haired enchantress was the first out of her chair, with a unhurried grace that embodied both speed and suppleness. “I am Soraya,” she said proudly, as if expecting the others to recognize the name. After a moment, when it appeared that no one outside her little group knew it, she returned to her seat. The residual power of her character kept the others of her coterie from standing after her, and Star leapt into the pause, standing and picking up Sinister.
“My name is Star,” she said, “and this, is Sinister,” she continued, holding him up and petting him. Sinister yowled once, and Star sat back down.
Beside her, L’shaya drew herself upright. “I am L’shaya,” she said quietly, and sat back down as smoothly as she had arisen.
They both looked at Brigid, and she stood, shook back her streaming red hair, nodded in politeness to the headmaster and his staff, then to the others, and said pleasantly “I am Brigid.” She smiled warmly, with only a hint of mischief dancing in her green eyes. “This, I believe, will turn out to be an interesting month.”
The competition between Brigid and Soraya began immediately the following morning.
In the morning each of the women were individually interviewed about their abilities, talents and interests, and given their schedule of classes. Brigid followed the directions she had been given at breakfast for her interview to a tall wooden door in the teacher’s wing of the castle. Knocking and hearing a muffled call from within, she opened the door and stepped inside to see headmaster Carolan sitting at a desk across the room.
“Come in, come in,” he said pleasantly, waving his hand towards a chair across the desk. Brigid sat herself down in the chair, puzzled.
Carolan smiled towards her as he began ruffling through a sheaf of papers in his hand. “As headmaster of this section of the University I am the only person to know your titles and lineage: it is often necessary in order to place prospective students in the proper courses of study.
“Because of that I do not normally conduct interviews, but so few of your family have attended here that it is such an honor to welcome you that I did not wish to allow it to another.” He grinned selfishly. “Your family of Amber, that is,” he continued, noting Brigid’s querying look; “you are the first of the Faerie to attend that I am aware of.”
“I was wondering…” breathed Brigid.
“So was I, about the magick of Faerie; I hope you will enlighten us sometime, as we enlighten you.”
He shuffled the papers again. “It says here that you have an almost intuitive understanding of illusions and transformational magick. Do I understand correctly that it is because of your Faerie nature?”
“I think so,” replied Brigid.
“And, in addition, a surprising level of ability in certain psionic disciplines; your mentor mentions a span of years in a distant Shadow where you specialized in psychic abilities. Fascinating.”
Brigid could only smile at the memories of her years as a superheroine on her Shadow Earth. When she left, she was numbered among the ten best mentalists in the world. With her training and discipline in Amber, she felt she could take on any of her former peers in a psychic battle.
“I see no need for additional tutoring in those areas. There are fortunately still a number of areas that you could benefit from: alchemy, elemental magick, divination, hermetic sorcery and enchantment, just to name a few. I have prepared your class schedule here.”
He handed over a page. Brigid looked at it, seeing the listing march the entire length of the page. She looked up over the top of the page at Carolan. “Yes, I know it is ambitious,” he continued, “but your mentor has said that you have a rare talent for the Art and a thorough grounding in its principles and practices are in order.
“Now, I suggest you get moving towards your first class.”
Brigid stood and thanked Carolan politely, then stepped out of the door and started to close it, when the door across the hall opened and Soraya boldly stepped into the hallway. She stopped suddenly at seeing Brigid, and, over her shoulder, Carolan within the doorway, and she glared a moment at Brigid before turning and walking haughtily down the corridor, her long black hair streaming in her wake.
“She, I gather, is annoyed that you were given the honor of being interviewed by me,” said Carolan quietly, and Brigid nodded. “Watch yourself around her.”
“I mean to, but you speak as if there is more I should know about her.”
Instead of replying he touched his fingertips to his lips and shook his head. Brigid recognized a gesture for silence and nodded in reply, then hurried down the corridor to her first class.
“Lady, do not enter that door.”
Brigid, returning from a long, tiring night of study in the library, stopped her hand from raising the latch to her door and looked down at the speaker, a tan and salmon striped cat who stood several feet down the corridor. “And why not?” she replied.
“A lady and her pack who have no love for cats set sorcery within.”
Brigid closed her eyes and extended her perception into the room, finding nothing. She said so to the cat.
“They have spelled it against your knowing, but not to a cat’s, and this one smells sorcery of a dark intent.”
“Do you, now: do all cats smell sorcery as you do?”
The cat merely looked at Brigid quizzically, as if to say “You didn’t know?”
At that Brigid crouched to the floor and began the process of shifting her shape and size into her favored shape of a sleek black cat. When she had finished, she sniffed at the door. Sure enough, there was a strange, electric smell coming from the door that had the tang of Soraya’s magick, overlaid with something else faintly but unpleasantly familiar. It seemed to be coming from a point just above the doorway, directly inside the room.
“How typically unimaginative: the sorcerous equivalent of a bucket over the doorway,” muttered Brigid to herself as she resumed her human form.
Brigid reached into a pocket and flipped the cat a treat. “My thanks, cat-friend: whom shall I say helped me, when I speak of this to the Lord of Cats in this place?”
“Tell her Lightfoot was pleased to aid the Lady of the Kindly Ones when she could not herself.” With that, the cat turned gracefully and stalked silently down the corridor into the darkness. Brigid grinned in dismay at the cat’s directness and chutzpah.
Brigid walked to the end of the corridor, where she opened the windows and leaned out. She could feel the warm breeze from the desert in her face, and grinned and nodded to herself. Stepping up on the windowsill, she stretched her arms out wide, breathed deeply, then began the longer process of assuming a less familiar shape, but one she could imagine very easily, a draconian form she had been experimenting with.
Her body shrunk slightly, and webs of skin grew down from her arms. When she had finished, she pushed off from the window, catching the thermals from the desert sands under her wings and using it to glide aloft. Just for pleasure, she took a few turns around the castle, startling a few astronomers observing the heavens atop a high tower, before she arrived outside the window of her room. Catching the bottom of the window with her clawed feet, she slipped a long fingernail through the crack in the center of the window and slid the latch open, grinning in remembrance at her old mentor’s lessons in security systems. Throwing the windows open wide, she leapt inside over her desk to stand in the center of the room.
It was the work of only a few moments to restore her shape again: her stomach growled at the expense that two shiftings in such a short time had cost her, and she was seriously tempted to raid the kitchen even at this time of night, but resigned herself to waiting until morning, as the kitchen staff were not used to such hearty appetites as an Amberite coming at all hours, and that of a shapeshifter on top of that, and certainly would not be prepared as the cooks of Castle Amber would be.
Instead, she glanced up above the doorway. The sorcery was still invisible to her mind, but now she could see a large, irregular, smelly brown mass hanging in mid air. She shook her head ruefully, and wondered what to do with it. She assumed it was bound to the door, and would fall on anyone who opened it and walked in.
She pondered the situation for a long moment, but she was interrupted by a knock at her door and the worried voice of Star, who said “Brigid? Are you all right? L’shaya saw something enter your room through the window. Brigid?” The latch raised and the door began to open.
Brigid leaped across the room, touching her armband as she did so, and intercepted the smelly brown mass as it plummeted down on top of Star. The two fell into a jumble just inside the door.
L’shaya, standing just behind Star, wrinkled her nose at the smell. Star held her noise in obvious disgust and looked at the mess streaming down from Brigid’s head and shoulders, then began laughing. Brigid gazed at Star in shock, then realized that she must certainly be ridiculous-looking, and began laughing, too.
Star started to help Brigid up, but Brigid waved her aside and stood on her own. The mess was beginning to drip onto the stone floor, and Star and L’shaya watched in amazement as Brigid calmly wiped the rest from her face and hair, leaving nothing behind. Seeing their wondering expressions, Brigid touched her finger to her chest. “A wardspell, very strong: very little can touch me when I don’t want it to.
“Now, as for that,” she continued,
L’shaya moved forward and said simply “Please.” Brigid stepped aside, glancing in curiosity towards her. L’shaya breathed between her clasped hands, then spread them downwards to the floor. The sweet scent of pine rose in the room, and the mess gradually disappeared, until the floor was spotlessly clean and the air cleansed of the smell.
“One of the first spells a healer learns is one to cleanse the area,” said Star absently in explanation. “L’shaya’s certainly used that for me, many a time.”
“Well, I’m certainly glad she used it on my behalf,” replied Brigid.
L’shaya looked back frankly. “You protected Star,” she said. She held her hand up, palm out. “We share a bond, now.”
Brigid met L’shaya’s hand, palm to palm. “A bond, indeed. And, my thanks.”
The mood in the dining room during the morning meal was tense: rumor had it that three students had been expelled from the school for an unexplained infraction, possibly unauthorized sorcery outside of a classroom. Brigid saw that the three women were all a part of Soraya’s little group, albeit on the fringes of it: just on general principles she was certain that Soraya was the ultimate instigator of whatever infraction the women had committed, but she was also certain that Soraya had not been implicated in it, either.
Across the room, two women who Brigid had seen as friends of the expelled students began to argue in low tones. A loud interjection from one of them brought the eyes of everyone upon them as they continued to argue, growing louder and louder with each breath.
Glancing over at Soraya, Brigid could see her tracing an arcane pattern on the tabletop with her forefinger, using spilled juice as ink. The pattern disappeared in a puff of smoke, and Brigid could feel the spell’s passing like a rush of fetid air as it centered on the people around the two arguing women.
Suddenly one of the women angrily picked up a bowl of porridge and thrust it at the face of the other. The other arguing woman simply picked up a large fistful of porridge from her own bowl and ground it into the face of the first: she laughed at the sight until another woman dumped a bowl of porridge on her own head. In classic fashion, an old-style food fight was born.
Brigid raised her palms, beginning a simple spell, then hesitated a moment, as spellcasting outside of a classroom was as forbidden as acknowledging one’s titles, but such disorder was also forbidden. She shrugged and breathed between her palms; a gentle spell designed to quell angry tempers descended over the combatants, at the same time dispelling Soraya’s mischief. The combatants stood amidst the disarrayed tables, blinking in confusion and dripping with breakfast, as the wardens appeared, led by Carolan himself.
Brigid knew there was going to be trouble when Soraya and two of her coterie came into the classroom just before the teacher began speaking. They immediately took seats directly behind Brigid. Before Brigid could move, the teacher, Larius, a strict disciplinarian and a crossly demanding scarecrow of a man, and an Adept in Elemental Conjuration, slammed open the book before him and began to lecture from it.
Halfway through the lecture Brigid began to notice a faint ringing in her ears and a slight unsettling of her stomach that seemed to steadily increase. It puzzled her for a moment, as she carefully examined her self-image as a shapeshifter. Finding no physical cause for her discomfort, she checked instead for magick in the air around her.
Once she began looking for them, Brigid could detect three separate and distinct strands of magick weaving themselves about her: two of concealment and a third that seemed to be causing her discomfort. “Ganging up on me, eh?” she thought to herself, as she began to weave her own counter-magick. A spark of greenish light flickered between her hands in her lap, and two of the three strands about her suddenly began twisting together uncontrollably. Now that the obscuring enchantments had been set against each other and nullified, Brigid’s emerald ring pulsed with alarm. The third enchantment, now revealed, recoiled slightly: Brigid could plainly detect the mind of Soraya behind it. Brigid lashed at it with a flick of her fingers, sending a pulse of her own power back along its path, then lifted her hand to see Soraya’s reaction in the reflection on the surface of her ring.
Soraya’s spell rebounded against her: she hurriedly placed her hand over her mouth as she momentarily turned even paler. Her companions turned to help her as Brigid sent a similar pulse along the threads they had woven. The one to the left, lacking the control and the pride of Soraya, turned an interesting shade of pale green as she covered her mouth with both hands, and ran stumbling from the classroom and down the corridor outside. The other companion, possessing more dignity but still not enough control, made it only as far as outside the doorway; the class could hear the sounds of her losing her breakfast on the floor outside.
Soraya, still pale, stood with as much regal poise as she could muster amongst the laughter of the class, nodded in perfunctory apology to the teacher, and walked slowly, carefully, out the door. Her footsteps could be heard walking slowly down the hall: only sensitive ears like Brigid’s could tell that she began to hurry once leaving the immediate area. Brigid grinned maliciously to herself.
“Perhaps, Brigid, you would be so kind as to demonstrate the elementary control of the element of Fire by lighting this candle?” Larius’ thin voice cut through the noise of the class’s laughter.
Startled, Brigid looked up, then looked at the candle which Larius was removing from a desk drawer. It seemed a simple enough demonstration, but there was a confident undertone to his question that she had heard in the mocking tones of several superpowered opponents that made her stop and consider. Then she unfocused her eyes and gazed at it with her mind. There was a grey, hazy twisting of the air before the candle: Brigid observed that it covered the whole area before and around the desk and lectern. A wardspell, and strong enough to resist any immediate conjuration. But only from a distance.
“Certainly, sir,” replied Brigid as she stood and walked forward to the desk. Now that she was aware of it, she could feel the wardspell prickle about her as she walked through it. Walking up to the desk, she dramatically pointed towards the candle wick and said “Lumen.” A halo of green light briefly surrounded her head, then wound its way down her arm and leaped across the gap between her finger and the wick. The wick sparked and flared up brightly.
Brigid looked to Larius. “Like that, sir?”
He looked crossly at her, yet she could see a grudging hint of approval in his eyes. “Aye, like that,” he replied, then turned to the class. “Like that, indeed. Now, Brigid here will explain how she did it, for the benefit of all the rest of you.”
Brigid winced, then sighed and turned towards the students and began to explain.
One afternoon and evening a week was allowed for personal entertainment and enrichment. Brigid spent the first such period studying in the castle library, until she was tracked down by Star, who had arranged for a small party with L’shaya and a few of the other women her ready and easy charm had also befriended. That party lasted into the middle of the night, with Brigid playing her guitar and singing rock&roll songs from her native Shadow while L’shaya accompanied her on a strange, multi-stringed instrument native to her own Shadow, and Star, with more enthusiasm than skill, pounded out the beat on a small hand drum.
All the following week the party was the talk of the entire class. When the next free evening came around, the party, whose plans had grown considerably over the week, was moved to one of the larger classrooms, with the approval of Carolan himself. Brigid suspected he, too, was not immune to Star’s charm. Over half the class attended, with the primary exception being Soraya and her group, who tried to have their own party in opposition but utterly failed to compete against Star’s.
Not really being one to carry a grudge, the following morning Star publicly invited Soraya, and indeed the whole class, to the next free evening’s festivities. It was done with such sparkling grace that even Soraya could not allow herself to seem petty by refusing the invitation. Brigid, however, noticed the conspiratorial looks Soraya’s group had traded, and was wary.
The night started easily enough: the largest classroom was insufficient for the gathering, and it wound up in the dining hall instead. Star’s charm had evidently worked its power on the kitchen staff as well, as they produced a series of culinary wonders to the wholesale approval of the partiers. It was only when Star asked for the women in general to provide entertainment for the gathering that trouble began.
Surprisingly, Soraya went first. Even more surprisingly, she possessed a piercingly sweet soprano voice as she sang a song in her native Shadow tongue, from its general tone and minor chords, a lament. A lament, she explained afterwards, of a lover and her love lost to the wiles of a demon. Brigid snickered, as her telepathic ability for languages allowed her to hear the entire song in English, and discovered that the ‘demon’ was instead a duplicitous, red-haired, green-eyed witch.
In reply, Brigid began a haunting rendition of Corwin’s well-known song “The Ballad of the Water Crossers,” accompanying herself on her guitar. As she sung, her unconscious Faerie sorcery spun images in the air above the gathering, of ships crossing the water, of the dangers and perils they face, of the courageous souls who make up Amber’s navy. When she finished, there was a momentary hush and a series of low, appreciative murmurs from the crowd.
Into that silence sprang L’shaya, who mysteriously produced a pair of blades from thin air and began a rapid sword dance on the center table. Star took up her drum and pounded out the rapidly shifting beat, the bangles and rattles on the drum matching time with the ringing of the blades together. The class clapped their hands in time with the infectious beat; even Soraya, eventually, half-heartedly, finally joined in. When she was finished, L’shaya leaped into the air and launched the blades towards a surprised Brigid: Brigid immediately took up a defensive stance, then the blades vanished like smoke halfway between them. Brigid could only feel the backwash of sorcery flow past her, and suddenly realized that L’shaya’s skills were not limited to healing.
Another girl stepped to the front, and proceeded to imitate several of the instructors so accurately that Brigid began to suspect she had shapechanger blood herself, but Brigid concentrated on Soraya and her group instead. They huddled together at a side table, whispering, and even after Brigid enhanced her hearing she could not divine their speech over the performances and general noise of the party. Still, there was something secretive and suspicious about their intentions, judging from their stances and the furtive looks some of the other women of the group gave the rest of the party.
After three other performances, one of Soraya’s circle, a thin blonde with a vapid look about her that Brigid knew was only an affectation, stepped forward. “A game!” she announced. “A hunt!”
She produced a list, hastily scribbled on a piece of parchment, and waved it before her. “Whoever brings the most of the things from this list in the passing of an hourglass, wins!”
Crowding around with the others, Brigid examined the list. Most of the things listed were magickal herbs, fetishes and other items, uncommon even here at the University at the very least, gradually becoming more and more rare, and it finished with a Trump. The last was a bit of a surprise to Brigid, although she strongly suspected that all of the items on the list were easily available to Soraya and her coterie. According to Fiona, there were only a select few people who could create Trumps, almost exclusively people connected to one of the two Great Powers like the Pattern and the Logrus, and the odds of even knowing one of them were very small. It was possible that one could obtain a Trump through a variety of means, passed down between generations, even. No matter: as a child of Amber, her cousins made sure she had at least a couple so that she could call them and travel to the Castle at need.
The blonde overturned an hourglass, and the other women split apart into informal teams and hurried out of the room, with Soraya and her circle first, leaving Star, L’shaya, and Brigid alone.
Star appeared annoyed at the very least, but she nodded to L’shaya and Brigid and together they left the room. Like all the others, Brigid memorized the list as soon as she read it: memorization was one of the skills stressed at the University. Pausing in the middle of a ritual to look up the next magickal phrase was a recommended practice.
Just under an hour later, they met outside the room. They were obviously the last team to return, as the room was filled with students showing off their prizes. When the hourglass ran out, though, there was a hush as the blonde student took up the list and started reading off the entries.
Some of the teams were not so lucky or diligent and dropped out of the competition early, until, at last, all that were left was Brigid and her companions and Soraya and her coterie. Each lacked only one item: Brigid’s was something Brigid was sure was not possibly available at the University, and Soraya’s missing item was something that there was only of its kind here and Sinister had quickly procured it before any of Soraya’s people knew where it was.
It all came down to the final item on the list: a Trump. Soraya produced a Trump of the University gates with a flourish, smiling in triumph as Brigid’s Trumps were still in her pocket. She held it over her head for the entire room to see, and everyone applauded until Star’s voice rang out over all the noise.
“Its a fake.”
It was what Brigid was about to say, but the exuberant Star beat her to it. No Trumps were allowed of the University grounds, by decree of the Master of the University, and that Power had the force to enforce that edict: any Trump Master would seriously think twice about doing so. Certainly no one of Amber, as on the back was the familiar sigil of the Unicorn, white on green. But of all the items, a Trump would of course be the easiest to fake, since it would have been the hardest to test, for very few people possessed the mental strength to activate one. It was even slightly difficult for Brigid.
In reply, Soraya stared mockingly at Star. “Don’t interfere, traal,” said Soraya, and Brigid’s ear easily translated the curse into an uncomplimentary term for a lower animal. “She has insulted me, and I demand satisfaction.”
“Oh? Let’s just see this supposed Trump.”
Brigid snatched the Trump from the hands of Soraya before she could defend it and examined it closely. It was cold to her touch, too cold for a Trump, she thought, and there was a faint aura of magick about it that was alien to any Trump. She began to bend one corner, but the magick flared under her fingers, preventing it, and Brigid could now determine that this so-called Trump was a magickal creation, not a Trump at all. The strength from her armband flowed into her hands and arms, and she proceeded to twist the card. Slowly, grudgingly, the card tore in two. Brigid held up the two halves to the stunned eyes of everyone around, then let them flutter to the floor.
“A Trump? I don’t think so,” said Brigid, looking about. “It’s a fake, albeit a good one.”
She turned to Soraya. “Star was right: you are a fraud and a cheat.”
“Since how do you know so much about Trumps?” spat Soraya in return.
Brigid reached into her pocket and fingered her deck in its silken pouch. She hesitated, wondering how she could explain without violating the cardinal rule of the University, then decided to trust to her own luck. She slipped the top card from the deck, not knowing which card it was, and pulled it forth. “This is a Trump.”
She showed the Trump around, seeing wondering faces: she turned it around and was surprised and pleased to find it was the Trump of Golden Gate Park in San Francisco from her home Shadow. After all, it would be hard to explain how she came to have a Trump with the Unicorn of Amber on the reverse side without revealing her past, but this one had the personal sigil of one of her cousins, instead. “I grew up here, and have family and friends there still. A friend of mine made it for me.”
“Prove it,” said Soraya coldly.
Brigid shrugged and began to concentrate on the Trump. Its coldness took on a depth of feeling, and the picture of Golden Gate Park, with the Golden Gate Bridge in the background, took on a three-dimensional quality. The image darkened as the daylight of the Trump image became the midnight reality of the Shadow. In the back of her mind, Brigid could sense Soraya begin to silently cast a spell just as the rainbow effect of Trump contact began to flare into life.
Brigid reached out her left hand: a rainbow appeared about her hand as she plucked a rose from the bush before her just as she felt Soraya begin to cast her spell.
Instantly, Brigid slammed the Trump contact closed. The spell slammed into her, apparently calculated to drive her through the Trump contact but instead only pushing her forward to stumble against a nearby table.
Brigid turned swiftly and stared at Soraya, the green witchlight sparking in her eyes mirroring the green witchlight that began to form a halo about her head. She raised her left hand and clenched the rose into her fist, and the green light began to trickle down her shoulder and arm to surround it with a hazy green nimbus. Slowly she raised that fist between her eyes and Soraya’s; the witchlight shimmered in the depths of Soraya’s raven eyes, and Brigid could see conflicting emotions within those eyes: much anger and hatred, some doubt, and a little fear.
There were a number of potent spells running through Brigid’s mind, anything from causing a minor itching curse upon Soraya to transforming her into the animal she had called Brigid just a moment ago. Instead, she concentrated on the rose, transforming it into pure silver. “You’re not worth the trouble,” she hissed softly in dismissal. She let the silver rose fall to the floor before Soraya with a clear, ringing tone, then she abruptly turned and stalked away, followed by Star and L’shaya, the three cutting easily through the surrounding crowd, who stared in reply in surprise and shock.
“Watch your back, Brigid,” said Star, with an affirming hiss from Sinister.
“Better me than you,” replied Brigid. “I can take care of myself.” After well over a decade of fighting the worst of the worst supervillains. alien invasions and more, plus a year of Uncle Benedict’s lessons on warfare, Soraya’s threats were almost inconsequential.
“Tail’sbane, come quickly!” said Sinister as he appeared in the doorway to Brigid’s room, just as Brigid was getting ready to go down for breakfast. Brigid was out of her chair and running through the door before she could ask what was the matter.
Sinister spun about and ran down the corridor before her. As he ran, he said over his shoulder “Soraya has done something evil to Star and L’shaya.”
At those words Brigid’s eyes grew hard and cold, and she increased her pace, and her form appeared to shimmer as she dropped to all fours. In another breath, a larger, darker copy of Sinister’s feline form quickly followed him down the corridor.
Soraya’s rooms were the largest of any of the women, and situated on the first floor, a pair of forbidden privileges she had still somehow demanded and received. The door was open, and from down the hall Brigid’s keen ears could Soraya’s voice within, saying “Aren’t they lovely? They’re a gift from Star, an apology for the insults and injury she inflicted upon me at her party yesterday.”
Brigid paused a moment outside the door to restore herself to her own shape, then strode in confidently. Within, surrounded by her cronies and confidants, sat Soraya regally, with two cats upon her lap, one small with light brown fur, the other larger, with darker brown fur and blue eyes. Both cats appeared to resist Soraya’s attempt at petting them, yet seemed unrestrained but strangely unable to leap from her lap. To Brigid’s empathy and senses, the knot of sorcery about the two cats was painfully obvious.
Sinister stood between Brigid’s legs and hissed loudly, malevolently: the sound silenced everyone within, including Soraya. In the silence, Brigid pointed towards the two cats and spoke the Word she was taught that cancels shapeshiftings.
Star’s and L’shaya’s explosive retransformation from cats back into humans toppled Soraya and her chair backwards as they both fell forward to the floor. In the confusion, L’shaya, who had twisted much like a cat and had fallen on her hands and feet, lifted Star from a pile of bodies and broke for the doorway. Brigid stepped aside momentarily to let them pass, and stood before them as they glared at Soraya. “I have overlooked your petty attempts at mischief, Soraya, when they only involved ourselves. But since you have seen fit to involve my friends, and sought to hurt me through those less capable of defending themselves, then,” she paused, “then perhaps its time you were taught a few lessons in manners.”
“And I suppose you think you can teach them to me?” replied Soraya mockingly, as she picked herself up from the floor to stand proudly.
Brigid only smiled in reply.
“Then, as the challenged, I choose the Duel of the Arcane, on the dueling field outside of the castle, at dusk.” She held up her hand. “So I swear.”
Brigid nodded. “I, too, swear. Until then, safe conduct for all associated with the duel. As I name Star and L’shaya my seconds, they are likewise protected.”
“Agreed,” spat Soraya as her eyes narrowed momentarily, and Brigid grinned wider. Turning to Star and L’shaya, Brigid said “let’s go prepare for the duel.”
North of the castle, shaded from its view by a large grove of tall palm trees, stood a large clearing. Within stood a large circle of earth, cleared of the surrounding grass. Brigid and Star and L’shaya stood at the north end of the clearing, watching as Soraya and her followers entered from the south, followed at a short distance by the rest of the women from their class. The others arranged themselves about the sides of the clearing as Brigid and Soraya faced each other across the several yards of the circle.
Soraya turned and spoke to the assembled women. “Here, outside the walls of the castle, we have titles, we have families. Know then that I am Soraya, Topaz Princess of the Jewel Kingdoms of the Golden Circle, heir to twenty generations of sorcerous might. Power and magick is my birthright: I have trained in sorcery since my birth.”
The raven-haired enchantress turned to face Brigid with a fiery glance. “Who are you and what have you to match that?” she said scornfully.
Brigid smiled slightly and inclined her head politely. “Who am I?” she began, her voice easily carrying throughout the area, “I am Brigid, Lady of the Court of Amber, child of the blood of Dworkin, Initiate of the Pattern, and apprentice in sorcery and enchantment to Princess Fiona; and I am Brigid, high born of the Courts of Faerie, shapeshifter, enchantress and sorceress. Magick and power is more than just my birthright, it is my very nature and blood.” Watching carefully, Brigid could see a momentary narrowing of her opponent’s eyes, but no other sign: she could hear the sudden inrush of breath from several of the audience and a low chuckle from Star. “Shall we begin?”
Far too late to back down now, Soraya stepped boldly into the circle, and Brigid followed. Soraya started a low chant and caused the wind to rise within the clearing, whirling dust devils about the edges of the circle. Brigid followed the measure of the spell more by instinct than by knowledge, and added her own counterpoint. Soraya’s magickal signature of a dark blue mist met and merged with Brigid’s hazy green lightning, and when they had stopped, a glowing circle appeared, outlining the bared earth.
Without hesitation, Soraya began. She knelt to the ground: her finger traced a human figure in the air, up, around, and back down the earth. Where her finger moved, a line of dark blue light remained. When she finished, the air within the line solidified and a knight in dark blue armor stood before her, shield and sword held ready.
Brigid only gestured briefly, and appearing suddenly from the cloud of glowing green before her stood a figure in a black hooded cape, its hands and face hidden within the cape’s folds. The two advanced to meet in the center of the circle. The knight raised its sword high, and then there was a sudden buzzing, hissing sound as a blade of brilliant green light, the same light as Brigid’s magick, sprang from the caped figure’s suddenly outthrust hands. In one swift downward swing, the green blade of light swept down through the knight’s blade, severing it near the hilt, then swept back upwards through the knight itself, thigh to shoulder, on the return. The knight divided in twain and crumpled to the ground and vanished: the caped figure saluted Soraya and Brigid, then faded into mist.
Angered, Soraya motioned, and between her hands a dark blue mist arose, twisting and forming into a dark dragon shape towering over her head. The dragon’s head scanned the ground before it, then focused upon Brigid. In response, Brigid’s hands outlined a human form in green mist and lightning before her. The mist solidified into a tall figure, with hair so black it was almost blue, wearing a tight blue tunic and a red cape that rippled from his broad shoulders. The figure crouched, then sprung into the air, meeting the dragon full on with a mighty blow of his fist. The figures exploded in a blaze of blue and green magick, the dragon preceding the figure.
While the first figure was still in the air, Brigid’s hands were moving again; this time conjuring a tall figure with glossy black hair and a billowing black cape, a pale, sensual face, and just a hint of fangs above his lower lip. He inspected Soraya sensually, eagerly, hungrily, and bowed and said “Good evening, my lady.”
Soraya shook her head to recover from the shock of the dragon’s destruction, and for a moment lost herself in the raw sensuality of the vampire’s gaze. He seized the moment to advance across the circle, the motion breaking the spell he had over her. She reacted rapidly, releasing a curling swirl of energy that coalesced into a pillar of yellow fire. The vampire screamed as the power of the night and the power of the day met and canceled each other out.
“The first round is a draw, then,” said Soraya. “The next won’t be so easy.” Brigid only shrugged in reply.
Eschewing the conjurations, then, Soraya and Brigid began a contest of dueling spells: fireballs and lightning bolts flew across the center of the circle, to be stopped in displays of blue and green fireworks by each other’s potent shields. Several of the explosions rocked Soraya, but Brigid stood calmly, having never moved from the place she began the duel.
After several minutes of this, Soraya paused and glared at Brigid. “I grow tired of this game,” she began crossly, but Brigid cut her off.
“A game?” replied Brigid coldly. “Is that all you think this is, a game? You may have fought for honor or glory: I’ve fought for my life under these circumstances. You need a lesson in fighting as well as in manners.”
With a wave of her hand, Brigid conjured a field before her that reflected Soraya’s next spell back at her, redoubled, momentarily stunning her. Brigid then pulled her arm back, and a lance of green lightning formed in her hand. She threw it into the center of Soraya’s shield, splintering it into shards of fading blue light. Brigid followed it with a trio of flickering green witchlights which orbited Soraya’s head in a dizzying array.
“No, no, no …” said Soraya weakly as she began to waver in response to the dance of the witchlights in her gaze. Her gaze grew dull as her eyes began to reflect the dancing, flickering light, until they rolled back under her eyelids and she slumped to the earth.
Without the matching will of Soraya to maintain it, the dueling circle faded away, leaving Brigid standing it the center of circle of bare earth. She looked proudly about at the women assembled, a weary smile on her lips. In the silence, she said “You can come out now, Fiona.”
Part of the darkness under the trees dispersed, and Fiona strode into the clearing, accompanied by a tall raven-haired woman wearing a diadem with a large sapphire centered above and between her raven eyes. The crowd separated to allow the two to approach the circle. Brigid inclined her head towards her mentor, and then towards the other woman.
There was the slightest hint of a smile about the corners of Fiona’s lips, while the other woman looked sternly between Soraya and Brigid. “Exactly as I predicted, Zarastel,” said Fiona.
“I’m sure my daughter has learned the lesson meant for her,” replied Zarastel coolly, looking down at Soraya’s unconscious body.
“If she can,” remarked Brigid offhandedly.
“Oh, she will,” said Zarastel coldly, almost maliciously, glancing in Brigid’s direction. “And you need a lesson, too, Brigid: that the line of Crysoberyl is not to easily trifled with. That is an honor left to your betters, child.”
Zarastel intoned three harsh, flat words, and suddenly her eyes grew immense in Brigid’s gaze. Brigid could feel the strength of Zarastel’s mind battering at her own. The ring on Brigid’s finger flared into life, and the sensation was cut off as a feeling of silence and steel settled about Brigid’s mind.
Brigid took a deep breath and stared at Zarastel. At her unspoken command, Brigid’s ring ceased its protection, and Brigid’s eyes met Zarastel’s again. The battle then began in earnest.
Zarastel had a momentary initial advantage in her many years of experience, yet Brigid proved a quick learner, drawing upon her own training and experience against some of the most powerful psychics of a Shadow that produced beings of superhuman qualities, and from some source deep within that she barely knew existed. She felt Fiona’s teaching and her own Faerie nature come together, along with the lessons of her senseis, come together in ways she had not expected.
In the space of a few heartbeats, yet lifetimes long in the span of time within the mind, the two realized they were too evenly matched to continue in this manner. Both retreated to their bodies, then Zarastel closed her eyes, briefly touched her thumbs to her sapphire pendant and then pointed both index fingers towards Brigid.
One short word from Brigid stilled the dark lightning coalescing between Zarastel’s hands. Brigid mentally commanded her armband; the power within the armband flooded into her limbs as she somersaulted forward across the several yards that separated her from her opponent, rising up directly before Zarastel before she could cast another spell. Brigid’s hands leapt forward, pinning Zarastel’s hands and arms above her head in an unbreakable grip with one hand and pressing into the sides of Zarastel’s neck with the other. Zarastel opened her eyes in surprise, to glare back at Brigid, who said calmly “You, too, need to learn a lesson, that the blood of Amber is not to be trifled with, old and young,” but Zarastel’s eyes fluttered backwards under her eyelids before Brigid finished, and her head slumped forward. After several more seconds Brigid allowed Zarastel’s unconsciousness body to fall to the earth.
Brigid stood over Zarastel’s body as Fiona approached her. Now in Fiona’s eyes she could see an honest feeling of satisfaction and pride towards Brigid, and she smiled warmly to Fiona in thanks.
Fiona accepted Brigid’s thanks with a slow smile and nod of her head, then she turned and curtseyed politely to Star. “Empress Y’nastar, I do hope you are not too upset with our little ploy: I could not predict exactly what form of petty maliciousness or vengeance Soraya would take upon you. I do trust your honor has been satisfied?”
Brigid’s eyes widened. “Empress?” she thought.
Star inclined her head regally to Fiona. “It has, indeed,” she replied graciously. “My honor has been satisfied, and,” she continued, the merest hint of a grin flickering about her lips, “my standing in regards to the Queen’s has also been enhanced. My thanks to the Princess Fiona, and to her apprentice.”
“Apprentice no longer; indeed, she has been apprentice in appearance only. I name Brigid sorceress and enchantress in her own right.”
Brigid bowed low before her mentor in acknowledgment of the honor.
“Shall we go home to Amber now, Brigid?” asked Fiona as they walked back to the university.
“No, there is still more for me to learn here.”
Fiona smiled, and Brigid knew she had passed another of Fiona’s little tests. “As you wish. I shall see you in two weeks, then.” With that, she turned away and disappeared into the darkness, with only the slightest shimmer of light surrounding her departure. Brigid looked back towards Star and L’shaya, and Sinister, and thought that there definitely was more for her to learn about in the months ahead.
According to Brigid’s personal history, she got her Screen Extra’s Guild card when the was 16 (she was an emancipated minor by then) and appeared in a number of SF movies because she was a shapeshifter. She appeared in the background in several scenes in “Star Wars”, especially the Cantina scene, which is where she met Mark Hammil, and in several of the Star Trek movies.
She was also an avid comics fan when she was growing up, quite common as hers was a Shadow where superheroes were the norm. Given her powers, it was only logical that she would one day become a superhero herself.
