To Fiona, wielder of the Jewel of Emerald, power behind the throne, mother, I give you greetings.
I have no doubt that you are still alive. It would take more than a mere re-ordering of reality itself to trouble you. You, who possess the Pattern Jewel of Emerald (and yes, I now know that it is more than simply another of your magical foci, it is the source and center of your power) and the Pattern blade Andauntric, would easily weather the storm we had faced.
Yet, even you may not know what has happened within these now-transformed walls.
It happened just a few days after you left to ply your wits against the Courts of Chaos. I was your choice as Regent of Emerald, with orders to pacify the armies of Dlareme and capture their general, Rali. That Rali and I were friends of old was one of the reasons for your choice, I am sure.
I consulted with your generals, and requested them to design a plan that would ensure a minimum of property damage, not only to the town below, but also to the castle, itself. In return, they were glad of the chance to eliminate the threat to Emerald, once and for all. Most of the forces would be trapped in the city below, while only a small contingent of her warriors, led personally by Rali, would be allowed to break from the fighting and enter the castle, where they would, of course, head for the throne room.
I was prepared for their entrance. I had a spell already prepared to freeze Rali the moment she saw that it was I, not you, sitting on the throne: I so wanted to show you the look of surprise on her face when she would see me, her old friend, waiting for her upon the throne of Emerald. Did you think that I spoil your enjoyment of the situation by merely killing her?
But it wasn’t going to be.
The alarm signaled the attack was commencing, but the attackers were quite unexpected: troops not in the light green of the undersea kingdom of Dlareme; rather, they wore a motley of different colors. Some were not even human.
It was then that I first realized that something was wrong. To quell the chaos about me, I cast the second spell I had specially prepared for Rali, the enchantment that would have sent her accompanying forces into a deep slumber. When the spell was cast, I could feel it reaching further and further out; out from the throne room that was the furthest I had set the spell to reach, reaching out to blanket the entire castle. All about me, foreign troops were falling asleep, leaving them helpless prey of the local forces.
Emboldened by the chaos, I believe, one of the guards took the coward’s path and tried to strike me down with a dagger in the back. Did he really think the daughter of Fiona to be so helpless? My protective robes easily turned aside the blade, so all he accomplished was to arouse my anger. Before he could strike again, I turned and caught his gaze before he could look away, although that would not have saved him, as you well know. I must confess that I was in a hurry and didn’t take the time to properly punish him. In the past, such transgressions usually merited something that would have been protracted enough to serve as a warning for the others. But here, as I said, I was rushed, and all I could think of at the time was to mesmerize the fool into believing himself a small puppy. He immediately dropped to all fours and began barking. I left him to his fate: I heard tell that later, another of the guards put him out of his misery.
I could easily see that something was affecting the castle. Walls were appearing and disappearing, walls of a variety of varying colors, growing and shrinking as I watched. Through a window that appeared in what was an inside wall, I could see towers sprouting forth towards a shadowy sky, against which the sky realms battled. Yes, I said realms: seven, of which Tir Nan Og was but one; another rose in ruins beside it, destroyed in the battle.
Below the sky realms lay a vast plain, bounded by a sea unlike none I have ever seen. Troops were marshaling on that plain, some in the colors of Emerald, others in the myriad of colors of the different Realms, all taking up arms against the invaders from the sea. Yet the sea also produced more defenders, as well. There was no reason or order to the battle: tall figures with six legs in brightly colored chitinous armor fought alongside animals walking upright, wearing costumes of the Orient, their foes being unformed undulating giant grey amoebas and squat mechanical warriors. Towering above the battle was a great furred creature, striding about the battlefield without caring whom it crushed, all the while calling out a strange battle cry.
I will not bore you with the details of whom I met under which circumstances, only that several others survived the incursions within and without solely through chance as I would discover. Truth to tell, I remember very little of them, hailing from strange Realms so different than ours, although I am now moved to examine them more thoroughly for reasons you will soon come to realize without my needing to explain them. Through our collective conference, it was decided to treat the situation as a military outpost under siege, and I, who understood who controlled the source of food within the castle held power over the others, agreed to investigate what supplies were yet untouched and available in the depths of the castle.
It was in the dungeons that I discovered Florimel, fighting to the death with one who greatly resembled Gérard. I had no desire to be caught between two such titans, yet I could tell that the outcome was fore-ordained. I was not displeased when he finally killed Flormel: I had never liked her or her crude preference for causing physical pain. I could tell immediately that it was not the Gérard I knew: there was a strange light in his eyes when he saw me; even without reading his mind or his emotions, I could tell that he saw me as someone he wanted to protect, and I was more than willing to allow him, considering the chaos that had engulfed us.
The chaos has infected the prisoners, who had broken free from their cells and were fighting among themselves. Upon seeing the two of us, which was no surprise, considering the imposing presence of Gérard behind me, the prisoners came forward to attack us. I was not surprised when Gérard tried to interpose himself between me and the prisoners, but I knew that I had to demonstrate that I was capable of handing the situation. (If I could see you now, mother, I know you would be smiling. You know exactly what I would do in this situation.)
I invoked a spell from my rings, and was pleasantly surprised that the chaotic currents of magic throughout the castle had not impaired the spell. In fact, the conditions seemed to have improved it, if such could be imagined. The familiar image of whirling green spiral radiating from a pair of emerald green eyes manifested before the nearest prisoners, immediately capturing their gaze and their wills. At my unspoken command, the mesmerized prisoners meekly shuffled back into their cells. It took but a moment to send the hypnotic spiral down the passage to enthrall the rest of the escaped prisoners.
If you think I was pleased at the results, you are correct, but that description seems hardly adequate. There have been very few times in my life when I had so many minds under my hypnotic thrall, and the feeling was as heady and as savory as fine wine. I think it even amazed my companion, and possibly frightened him, as well.
After the disposition of supplies was settled, seeing the others who had been drawn into this maelstrom, and seeing the tokens of power they possessed, I realized that I needed an edge myself, some thing of power of this Realm. I searched the rooms of as many of the Elders as I could, even the ones I now saw appearing of those lost during the days before the current reign. Of course there were items that should be locked away, and others that I wished to obtain for myself. Who better to search for them than one proficient in such matters of power as I?
Your room was easy to enter: the wards were largely intact, and they allowed me entrance so readily that it was as though they thought I was you. Inside, I discovered a scene fit for Florimel’s dungeons. Blood and gore were spattered everywhere, centered on the stool before your dressing table. Later, I decided it was the fate of any two or more who happened to share the same space when the Realms merged: all the more reason to thank the Chimera that I am quite unique among the Realms. Lying beside the stool was a tall woman, well-endowed in both physical appearance and physical strength, obviously a daughter of another Fiona from her appearance, struck dead by a random piece of exploding flesh and bone.
I searched, but, as I had expected, your Jewel was not present. I doubted that you would have left it behind when you left for the Courts, but I had to make sure. There were other, even darker occult items throughout the room, but I heeded the warnings about the chaotic nature of magic and did not meddle. Instead, as the only one who could easily pass the wards, I left them well protected for later study.
It was a far different sight in Brand’s rooms. The wards that had so easily meshed about your door, here they collided with appalling force. Together, they did more damage to the room than what I had seen in your rooms, despite the fact that there were no bodies whatsoever found here. What I did find was treasure almost beyond compare: not the Pattern blade of your brother, but of one of his parallel selves. I know not which Realm it truly belongs to, and I care not for its power, nor is a blade my preferred tool, but it will make good coin for trading.
It was much later, although time has suffered the same chaotic randomness that the castle and all sorceries have suffered, that we finally came to my quarters. I had expected them to be empty, but what we saw within was a shock beyond all my experience.
Mother, you are one of the three great beauties of the Realm, rivaled only by my aunt Florimel (when she cares to take the time and has the desire to do so) and Corwin’s daughter Selena (if your tastes run to dreamy and passive women), and I have inherited such from you, combined with a certain fey charm inherited from my father that many of my suitors have found irresistible. I have seen beauties of all types in my travels and in your Court. Yet never have I seen one such as the woman I saw before me, sitting meekly on the bed.
That she was close kin to us, albeit from a different Realm, was obvious, from her cascade of coppery red hair that spilled over her shoulders that seemed to shine with its own light, as did her brilliant green eyes. Petite, curvaceous and voluptuous, she had ruby red lips and flawless alabaster skin that seemed to glow against the black satin nightgown she wore. Even I, who vastly prefer male companionship, was stirred to erotic thoughts at the sight of her, thoughts of stroking her shining hair, caressing her pale skin, kissing her ruby lips.
Yet her striking eyes were empty, her lovely face blank. She said nothing, did nothing when we entered her/my/our room. Even thought nothing, for I could not perceive even the slightest whisper of thoughts from her. One would have thought her to be a statue, save for the sight of her voluptuous breasts slowing rising and falling with each slow breath. That she was not entranced was obvious to my knowledge, for even one who is deeply entranced cannot be as still as she. I sat down on the bed next to her, and yet she still did not move. I touched her forehead, seeking the chakra there, and plunged into her mind.
What I discovered shocked me to the core of my being and shattered my world forever. I had thought that I had the most difficult life possible: always trying to be your perfect daughter, allowing for and cooperating with your madness, giving you just enough glimpses of such future potential as to keep you from meddling too much in my present life, sinking further and further into my own madness in response. Of course you knew that I was already planning insurrection against you: that made the anticipation of the results all the sweeter, didn’t it? You even gave me your tacit permission to continue, that night when I revealed my true power by enchanting the Ambassador of Cayce and all of his retinue in payment of his insult of me and commanding them to perform such vile acts as to make them commit ritual suicide the following morning: after such a display of power, you turned to me and shocked me beyond belief when you embraced me and said “I love you.”
But this woman, Erato by name, whom I now call sister not-of-blood, was truly the daughter of Fiona of the Realm of Jet, who treated her not as a toy to be savored and treasured, but simply a tool. A daughter stripped of her will and mind before birth, manipulated in the womb to become the vision of erotic passion that she is today. All that was left of her mind was a series of programmed responses: pleasure, passion, seduction, blackmail and assassination. She was well trained and well experienced in all, and quite competent, too: her own mother took pleasure from some of her more pleasant responses, herself.
There was a hidden element, too, one that would have surprised any who lay with her or sampled her pleasures. As wept upon Erato’s unmoving shoulder, I felt a vague echo in my thoughts. A vague echo of my own thoughts, which were coming from Erato. Somehow she had pierced my shields so subtly and so easily that she was reading my mind without my knowledge and passing that information back to the one who held dominion over her. Furthermore, as I had done earlier in piercing the wards about your rooms, I was so similar to her mother that my mind replaced her dead mother’s in domination over her.
I know not how long I wept on to her shoulder: time has gone awry here, and what may be an hour for one is a day for another. I only stopped when Gérard returned with food, as Erato lacked even the thought to eat unless directed to.
That still left the matter in hand: items of power. Lacking your Jewel or Andauntric, and with Greyswandir probably still in the hands of Corwin, I could only think of one last chance, one last hope, to find the lost Pattern blade of Brand, Werewindle. By this time, it was becoming clear that the shiftings and changings of the castle were not random, but were of a nature and pattern impossible to predict. One thing that seemed to be constant was the fact that sometimes the castle took you where you needed to be or wanted to be, if you could be patient. I decided to put that to the test.
With the goal of finding the lost blade firmly in my mind, Erato and I walked through the castle, watching it shift and change around us, before us, and after us. Finally, after what may have been just several minutes or even several hours, the castle eventually led me to the tallest tower. At its top was a room I had never seen, though it was primarily made of stones from Castle Emerald. Seeing nowhere else to go, I searched about the walls, searching through more than sight, until, at last, I found it. I reached beyond the walls of the tower, and grasped Brand’s Pattern-blade Werewindle. No wonder neither he nor you could ever find it: in a rare fit of sanity, he put it beyond reach, until such time as it was needed and the one who would wield it found it. I would have taken it, but the cost it asked was too high for one such as me: I had long suspected Brand had taken steps to ensure that its wielder would use it for nothing less than the antithesis of your reign. Only one who was purely selfless could wield it in defense of the realm, a situation which was quite impossible for me. I could only return it to its hiding place, fixing its location firmly in my memory: if I could find a wielder for it, the blade would ensure that he or she would wield the blade for my benefit.
With my search for any and all relics of power completed, I turned to acquiring something of equal value: knowledge. Since all things were changing, I sought the founder of the House, Dworkin. I hesitated at first, remembering the horror stories I was told in my childhood about Dworkin and how he lurked in the shadows of the Primal Pattern, coming out to steal away unruly children. It was only later that I learned just how much truth was actually in those tales of terror, so my hesitation was understandable, yet now my need was great.
I found the way to the Primal Pattern surprisingly easy: the changes had affected even that place. And Dworkin. Where before, when any two or more from the Pattern Realms merged, the result being death for all concerned, here the effect was quite the opposite. Each Dworkin from all of the Pattern Realms, or so it seems, had merged into one great serpent of immense proportions and seven pairs of eyes. This transformation evidently gave him a true measure of sanity, yet it was a sanity of such depths as to make his answers unfathomable.
Since I was unable to interpret his cryptic messages, I sought to find answers elsewhere. Although I am no true initiate to the mysteries of the Pattern, it was the last place that I knew such answers might be found. I made my way down to the room of the Pattern, only to find behind its door a maelstrom of lights and lines: fragments of the familiar emerald colored Pattern were whipping through the air, as were the fragments of the other Patterns. Knowing the strictures against walking the Pattern and not completing, seeing this only meant that even entering the room would be fatal.
Outside the door hung the transparent form of Brand: all of the Brands of the different Pattern Realms. He informed me that the various Patterns had fragmented and were gradually reforming into a Logrus. From what little you told me of the Courts of Chaos, I know that their focus of power is also called the Logrus. It seems now that we are to create a new Courts, which makes me wonder what happened to the old Courts.
And so, if this missive finds you, you who were to be at the old Courts of Chaos, and I have no doubt that it eventually will, then I ask you: stay away. There are greater mysteries at work here, greater powers active. You would not be Queen of this realm, only another head of a great House, and that fall from power would not be to your liking. Best you leave yourself to your own designs wherever you find yourself: the madness that I had inherited that infected my soul has been mostly purged, yet I fear that it goes even deeper within you.
