Echoes of Amber - Cast

And In Between

From the Journal of Egon Weisshaupt, infrequent Weirmonken Ambassador to the Court of Amber.

I'd be pissed if I wasn't so damn tired.

"When I get through with you, it will be as though you never were."

Those were his words carried well across the chamber of the Pattern in the moon-beam city in the sky, as he neared the last portion of the spiraling path of power. All I could do was watch. I was exhausted and a bit worse for wear. Nearly every spell I had readied before my walk up the stairs to Tir-na Nog'th had been expended in an attempt to thwart this man in black in his walk along the fiery lines of the Pattern.

Aramis hadn't renewed the trump connection since we'd lost contact earlier. So, speaking a few key phrases of power, I teleported myself back down to where Aramis was waiting in the upper reaches of Mount Kolvir. He stood looking up at the floating city until he turned towards me with a curious expression on his face.

"Everything well, Egon?" he asked.

With a deep breath, I replied, "Nope."

We began heading back down the slope towards the city of Amber.

"I must say, you put on quite a show up there," he said after a bit of silence. "What all happened? The last I saw before you tried to summon the Dark Well onto the Pattern and killed the trump connection was someone walking the Pattern and a lot of people standing around."

I winced slightly at that memory. I still had a few lumps from trying to impose the flaws in the Broken Pattern I'd been imprinted with onto the true Pattern.

"Well, I saw our 'friend' walking the Pattern, as you mentioned, with what looked like the ghosts of Amber's dead royalty also watching him walk the Pattern. I summoned the Dark Well," I said, sticking with the more poetic name for the Broken Pattern. "And tried to force its image onto the Pattern itself, timing it so that the flaw in the Broken Pattern corresponded to the portion he was standing on.

"Unfortunately, he didn't die."

"Oh?" Aramis said, seeming a bit surprised. He knew as well as I did that to step off the lines of the Pattern while in the middle of walking it was certain death.

"He had a 'Get Out of Jail Free' card in the form of a flashing white jewel on his breast."

"A sister stone to the Jewel of Judgement, perhaps?" Aramis asked, referring to one of Amber's more potent of portable toys.

I shrugged non-commitally.

"What happened after that?" Aramis prompted when I seemed less than forthcoming.

"I tried a few other spells. The jewel seemed to protect him from both my Flame Fandango and my Electric Boogaloo."

"And the Gerbils of Doom...?" he asked, as though he already knew the answer.

"They came as summoned, and died a flaming death when they touched the lines of the Pattern."

We were silent for a stretch, until Aramis finally said, "I must say, that went rather poorly."

I paused from sucking on a tooth to reply, "Yup, it was pretty bad."

And that was all that was said before we parted ways. Aramis went off to catch some beauty sleep, I went off to do a bit of research.

If the black knight could walk the Pattern, he must obviously be a child of Amber's royal line. Hoping that there was either a portrait of him, or one of his parents, I decided to tour Castle Amber's halls. I'd passed a half dozen dead Amberites and former Queens when an odd ripple went through me. When it passed, it seemed as though something subtle had changed in the world. To all appearances, everything looked the same, but otherwise it seemed like I'd moved to a different location.

Two more paintings later, I was accosted by guards. As they hauled me towards the front gates, they insisted they'd never heard of any Egon Weisshaupt, or even of Weirmonken, the land that I represented as its ambassador.

As I stood and brushed the dust off my rump, I puzzled over the guard's ignorance of my identity, especially since I'd been staying in the castle off and on for a few weeks now.

Feeling a bit miffed, I trudged on towards the Weirmonken embassy, with thoughts of official complaints dancing through my heads, only to find the embassy no longer there. Instead, there was an old abandoned warehouse. I walked around it a few times, and still could not believe the proof that was before my eyes.

After a moment, I rummaged through my pockets. I found no flower petals, but I did manage to fish out a short stack of cards. My trumps. Shuffling through them, I came upon the one that depicted Aramis, and concentrated upon its image. In a moment, there was a connection, and it was as though he were standing before me. I could see behind him his room in the castle, dimly lit by the now rising sun.

"Yes?" he asked a bit groggily. "Do I know you?"

"It's Egon, Aramis. Remember me?"

Aramis slowly replied, "No..." in that cautious tone one uses with madmen. Closing my eyes, I passed my hand before his image in the trump, breaking the contact. A tightness in my chest began to build. I felt a bit claustrophobic, and had no idea where to go from here.

I shuffled through my cards, regarding the faces of my companions and acquaintances about Amber, wondering who among them might remember who I am.

One card depicted me, in a black long coat over a red vest and white shirt and black bolo tie, red breaches, my blonde hair expertly cut with a bit of length on top, and my usual round spectacles. At least I still existed in Amber's favorite playing cards. On a whim, I pocketed the rest of my trumps, keeping my own, and concentrated on it.

At the same time, I felt a trump call, which I accepted.

And there I stood, looking at myself through a trump connection. On a whim, I extended my hand, grasped my own hand, and stepped through to where ever the me in the trump was standing.

I'm only dimly aware of what happened next. I had the sense of motion. The chill sensation experienced from stepping through a trump pulsing in and out as I went through what felt like an infinite series of trump connections. The sense of motion increased, the wind going by me seeming to have gale force. As the speed built up, so did the pain of the wind's friction, until at last I blacked out.

When I awoke, I was surrounded by darkness. I opened my eyes, and it didn't seem to help any. It was still dark. And cold.

I had the dim sense of not being alone, and had that sensation confirmed when a man's silken voice said through the darkness, "Ah, you're awake."

His voice was both soothing and hard... the velvet glove over the iron fist, so to speak. Not to mention colder than the room I was in.

"So it would seem," I replied. "And how are you?"

"Oh, splendid."

"You know," I said, feeling conversational, "I don't believe I know your name."

"Names are hardly important where we now are."

"And that is?"

"In the realm between trumps."

"Ah."

There was silence for a bit, the only sound present being that of our own breathing and the subdued rhythm of my fingers drumming on my knee.

"Sure you won't tell me who you are?" I asked. I heard an impatient sigh, so I pressed with the ever popular, "I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

I heard a match struck, and a dim light came into view. I saw that we were in a small stone room without any windows or doors. The realm between trumps seemed awfully small. I saw my companion across the room from me, and realized that there was no color in this place. Even my own body seemed devoid of any color.

My companion sat across from me, and appeared to be slender man, two steps past the bloom of youth, with what appeared to be pale skin, and hair that appeared light gray in our monochromatic little neck of the woods.

"And you are?" he asked, his cold, probing gaze upon me.

"Lord Egon Weisshaupt, of Weirmonken. You?"

"I am Prince Brand, of Amber."

Ah, yes. Brand. The prince who not too long ago tried to destroy the universe and remake it in his own image. He also happened to be Aramis' uncle. His career had been reported to have ended dramatically as he plummeted head long into the Abyss with a pair of silver arrows jutting from his neck. It would seem the rumors of his demise had been somewhat exaggerated. My day was looking better by the minute.

"So... um... what are you doing here?"

"I was desperate to avoid dying," he said simply. I noticed the match he lit did not seem to burn down at all. "And yourself?"

"I suppose I mostly trumped myself for the hell of it, though I was a bit worried I had ceased to exist."

I must say having Brand look at you like your insane constitutes mild irony.

"And why would you cease to exist?" he asked, sounding as though his patience was an effort of pure will.

"It's a bit of a long story," I said with some hesitance.

"Time is in abundance at the moment, and neither of us are likely to go anywhere."

Taking a deep breath, I explained my situation. From the removal of the moon from Weirmonken by the black knight, to the hint that he could be found in the chamber of the Pattern in Tir-na Nog'th, up to my feeble attack on said black knight as he walked said Pattern, and finishing with his curse and its effects.

"His name," said Brand after he'd heard my tale. I leaned forward in anticipation. "...is Arawn. You should ask Fiona about him if you ever get out of here. As for your non-existence, I'm certain that the effects have faded by now. Few possess the power to accomplish something like that, and fewer still can make it last. Arawn is not yet that powerful if I'm correct."

Awkward silence returned. I fidgeted, and Brand looked at me like I was a worm.

"Speaking of getting out of here," I said as I cleared my throat. "I don't suppose you know of a way, do you?"

"I've been considering it. The thought occurs to me that if you have any trumps besides your own, and we combine power, we may be able to trump out of here. The problem, however, is trumping some place where I won't get killed. Being from a kingdom friendly to Amber, you're not likely to know any one that would be friendly to me."

"I'm pretty certain I know someone I can trust. What else do you need me to do?"

"Just get ready."

I nodded. "Out of curiosity, what's beyond these walls?"

Brand looked towards a wall. As he did so, a window appeared showing a limitless expanse of randomly shifting black, white, and gray specks. Nodding, I realized this was going to be a cozy stay in trump limbo.

Time passed, or so it seemed. It's hard to tell in a place where time does not exist and you don't have a good book to read. Brand was building up energy to trump out. I tried preparing some spells in case there was a nasty reception where we came out at. Unfortunately, in order to do that I would have to draw energy from the area around me. Since Brand was the only thing maintaining the area around me, he wasn't very pleased with my attempts.

So I played tic-tac-toe against myself a lot. I seemed to lose quite a bit.

At last, Brand said that he was ready. I fished out Aramis' trump, and together we tried to contact him.

"...lo?" came Aramis' voice, sounding very far off and faint.

"Aramis! It's Egon!"

"Egon... ... you?" came his voice. Or, at least, that's what I was able to hear.

"Aramis? Are you alone?" I tried to ask. No reply came, however. We lost the contact. Brand slumped back, and the light faded from the room. We didn't talk for some time. We were both too tired and frustrated.

After a bit, I felt the stirrings of a trump contact. "I'm getting a call", I warned Brand. He stepped back out of sight. The contact was surprisingly strong.

On the other end, with something of a crowd behind him, was Aramis.

"Hello, Aramis!" I said, feeling genuinely glad to see him. "I'm glad to see you remember me."

"Yes, I'm glad I got hold of you too. Martin wishes to speak to you."

"Martin?" I asked, putting emphasis on the name for Brand. The last time Brand and Martin met, Brand put a dagger in Martin. "Is Martin there?"

"Yes..." Aramis replied, looking at me oddly. "He needs your opinion on some magical affairs."

"Ah, Martin is there with you."

"Yes... The whole family's here."

"Oh, the whole family is there?" The last time Brand was with the rest of his family in Amber, someone shot him in the neck with a couple of arrows. The time before that, someone put a dagger in him. Real close family.

"Yes. The whole family. It's a war council." Aramis was obviously starting to lose his patience. "Could you please come through?"

As I extended my hand to Aramis, I also extended one towards Brand. "Last chance."

Brand shook his head and drew back. Cursing, I stepped through to Amber. As I did so, I felt like I'd been hit by a sledgehammer, and it took a few moments for me to walk unaided.

We were in the throne room. Martin, the regent, sat on the throne, with Gerard at his side. Various members of Amber's royal family stood about talking. Off to one corner was a casket of some sort. From the conversations around me, I gathered that it belonged to Lamianna, Aramis' cousin, and there seemed to be a disagreement as to how many pieces of her there were.

Aramis led me up to Martin, and introduced me.

"Your highness," I said.

"Lord Egon. I'm told that you would serve well as an impartial magical examiner of a body."

"I would be willing to do my best," I replied in my most obsequious of tones.

"Very well," replied Martin. "Over there you will see we have Lamianna lying in state. I believe that her death was part of a conspiracy perpetrated by the Courts of Chaos, and I would like you to examine her remains to tell me who killed her."

I assented, and Aramis walked me over to the body. Inside the casket were Lamianna's earthly remains. In multiple pieces. My best guess was about 17, but that was based off a moment's glance. I began mentally working out the requirements for a spell that would do the job. As I did, Martin called the meeting to order. I caught something about his desires to go to war with the Courts of Chaos, and the murder of Lamianna, and how those who didn't see fit to come to this meeting were to be considered traitors. And so on, and so on. As I toyed with the possibility of summing the image of the Dark Well so that I could work on the spells more thoroughly, Martin produced a trump and contacted something he referred to as "Ghostwheel". What came into existence appeared to be a ring of fire about a yard across.

"Ghostwheel remote terminal activated," came a mechanical voice.

Smiling, Martin said, "Ghostwheel, bring me those family members who seem to not be present for my war council."

"Processing."

After a minute, three more flaming rings appeared in the air, and from them dropped Fiona and Benedict, as well as Lamianna. Glancing between the coffin, and the Lamianna that appeared, I realized that the one in the box was probably a doppelganger of one sort or another. I'd have thought Lamianna would be a bit more original than to repeat one of her father's old stunts. I headed for the back to get some punch while Fiona and Lamianna both trumped out.

Martin sighed, and had them brought back, only this time, Lamianna looked like she'd been sent through a meat grinder. I chose not to think about how she did that.

Aramis was instantly at Lamianna's side, seeming concerned, but shaking her in such a way as to aggravate her wounds. Like I said: real close family.

I hopped up to sit on the banquet table. Sipping my punch, I almost had to spit it out. It tasted almost like kerosene. Apparently someone had felt it needed a little extra touch.

I watched as the meeting began to dissolve. Lamianna had some story about thwarted agents of Chaos. Fiona offered to do a magical examination of Lamianna and Lamianna's corpse, but Martin insisted he didn't need her as long as he had me. Fiona shot me a withering stare, and I waved back cheerfully. Several people opined that Amber shouldn't go to war with Chaos. Even more opined that Martin should step down as regent. Gerard, seemed to be on the verge of losing his temper. It felt as though he was on the verge of a change of some sort.

I sipped my punch and kept an eye on Gerard.

Those who were against a war in Chaos gathered towards the back of the room. By virtue of the punch, I was apparently against the war.

It might have gotten messy if Gerard hadn't suddenly sprouted tentacles and began to change into some weird scaly thing. Then hell broke loose. I saw Fiona open a magical portal of some sort and those in the back of the room started to file out. Gerard started to come after Aramis. I dropped my punch and drew my blade, Carnifex, in order to lend assistance, but with a flick of his wrist, Aramis was able to do something to Gerard to slow him down. Together, Aramis and I escaped through Fiona's portal, right before it shut down.

The world we came out to seemed to be fairly far advanced in terms of technology. As we all got our wits back, we regarded each other across the room. In here was Fiona and Benedict, as well as Bleys, another of the princes of Amber.

"Charming place," I commented as I watched air cars sail past the window.

"What else can you tell me about it?" Fiona asked as she poured herself some wine.

"It's fairly technologically sophisticated," I replied.

"Is that all the sorcerer Martin trusts so much can tell me about it?" she asked mockingly.

Frowning, I decided to give her what she wanted, calling to mind the image of the Dark Well so that I might examine the metaphysical structure of the shadow.

"Acerbus," she commented, naming the shadow where I walked the Broken Pattern. Apparently she knew a good deal. Two could play at that.

"What can you tell me about a man named Arawn?" I asked. In response, Fiona gasped and dropped her wine glass. Bleys turned pale. Benedict arched an eyebrow.

"I told you we should have killed him," Bleys muttered.

"Uh, could someone please fill me in on who this Arawn fellow is?" Aramis asked.

"No," replied Bleys.

"Oh, well we appear to have some info on him," Aramis said with a grin. "How about we do a little trade?"

Bleys gave a big sigh. "Ahh, I was hoping it wouldn't come to this with your generation."

Without missing a beat, Aramis said, "Yes, I was hoping that too."

"We could just enter your minds, take what information we want, and remove any memories you have of it," Fiona informed us.

Aramis and I gave each other a panicked glance. We knew too well that they could do it. As we each contemplated how we'd spend our final moments, Benedict stepped between us and them.

"Now's your chance."

With a thank to the powers that be, Aramis produced a trump of his home shadow, Aegis, and we stepped through to there. Aramis' palace in Aegis reminded me a good deal of Weirmonken. That is, if Weirmonken were a hundred times more decadent.

Once safely removed from prying minds, I explained what had happened in that strange world between trumps.

"Brand, eh?" he asked.

I nodded.

"And you think that the only way to get information about this Arawn chap is to bring Brand back into the world of the living?"

I nodded again.

"Well... I had Ghostwheel aiding me when I contacted you. It would probably take at least a few people to generate the strength necessary to contact Brand. I'll go see who I can cajole into the effort."

He left the room, pulling out his deck of trumps. He was gone for a few minutes, and I spent the time I had probing through nearby shadow for sources of energy I could tap in the all too likely occurrence that we would be on our own.

Fortunately, Aramis returned with Pete, an adolescent savant we seem to have acquired along the way, and Lamianna, looking much better than she had minutes ago. I wondered to myself where she escaped to when things turned ill.

I went through my story once again for the sake of Pete and Lamianna, and surprisingly they had no problem re-inflicting the greatest evil shadow has ever known. Apparently all the encouragement they needed was that it would create all sorts of "fun". Aramis shuffled out Brand's trump, and we all concentrated on it. Brand came clear in his dark little room between trumps.

I extended my hand saying, "Tell me a story about a boy named Arawn."

As color returned to our monochromatic Brand, he collapsed as blood began to gout from his neck. In that strange timeless place, his wounds had never healed. Putting a hand on his neck to stop the bleeding, I aided the others as we rushed to the castle infirmary, while I prayed to whatever powers that be for Brand's survival.

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