THE TEMPTATION OF BARALIS
Baralis had been having trouble sleeping lately. A sort of spiritual apathy had come over him, an unexplainable emptiness that rose within him like a void that tore at his soul to be filled.
He was jealous, he knew that much. All of his little brotherhood was, he knew that. It just made him feel sorrowful, when he wasn't feeling jealous, because he had really believed that he of all of them was above that. Dworkin had often praised and encouraged him, blessed his selflessness in the lofty goals that he had put made for himself.
Baralis was part of the Circle. They were a small fellowship of sorcerors, conjurers, and wizards (those who could do both) who had been assembled and recruited from misty and unstable Shadow, by the great Master, Dworkin, to be his students, assistants, and helpers. Dworkin needed a great many helpers in preparing the chosen place for the enemies from far to the 'south'. He had named it Amber, and already a great Fort stood at the site. Armies, armies of laborers, and women, children, and shipwrights were all pouring in from all around.. as if by some greater magic than even they knew, to build what would one day have the makings of a massive civilization. The Circle provided Dworkin with the magical support at those times when something would happen beyond the confines of Amber that required Dworkin's exclusive attention and intervention. Only Dworkin could work the 'Deep Magic from beyond Space and Time'.
He and his children, Oberon and Titania.
But all was not well with the Circle, and within Amber. Most of his colleages envied the magic the magic that was forever denied them. One of the most noble of their number, the Mage Prestin Vogel was the first to lose his life to overeaching himself. However Vogel's death was considered honorable.. he had petitioned and begged the Master to allow him a chance to walk the Pattern, after Oberon had conquered it. It had consumed him in blue fire. The Master had already postulated that perhaps none save his blood might walk it and recieve the mysterious imprint.
Attempting to soothe and reassure some of the Circle, the Master had said that the Logrus did not reject those supplicants who could survive it's convolutions. If there was ever to be peace between Amber and the Courts, well then it was theoretically possible.
That grew more unlikely, as Titania had returned to report that the Courts were burning and surpressing all knowledge of the Rebel House, and some were even calling for a jihad.
Then Sorenson, that fool, had suggested that perhaps there was a way to change their blood to be more like the Master's.
The Master himself just pooh poohed the idea, saying, "Somethings are beyond the realm of good commen sense." But the Son? Oberon had caught wind of the rumor, and had begun to grow suspicous of the good nature of the Circle. Just last week he was calling for the disbanding of the Circle!
And that would be a reality, if he declared himself King. Already the Master was beginning to concede to his son, withdrawing gradually from the governing of Amber.
His apathy, his spirtual sickness had seemed to start two nights ago, at a private meeting of the Circle. They had gathered to discuss the changing political climate of Amber, and what to do.. and no- the Master was not present. They shielded it from outside eyes and ears. It was late in the evening when everyone was tired and growing bitter. That Sharu Garrul had suggested that there might have been a way to create their own 'Power'. Baralis had been repulsed by the idea at first.. it was against everything their group was supposed to be about, it betrayed the Charter they had with Dworkin.
Baralis, young, bright, and wanting so very much to do the right thing was sorely troubled. He considered his only recourse was to go to Oberon, and beseech his forgiveness and understanding. Disband the Circle if he must, but let him stay in Amber and help what they had begun there. If need be, he would be the first to swear allegience to a new King. He would even swear his loyalty on the Jewel of Judgement if would have satisfied Oberon.. just don't hurt them, and don't send them away.
That would be betraying the Circle of course, but if it prevented something worse, wouldn't it be worth it?
In the end he needed more time to think. He experienced a couple of sleepless nights, a gradual dull apathy overcoming him. This night was no exception, he thought a bout of hard excercise would eventually tire him. So he chose to take a walk, a very long walk.. right into the primordal depths of Arden. He had no fears of the many dangerous wild creatures that lived there.. he was a competant enough wizard.
There many hours later in the great untamed forest, not far from dawn he saw it, for the first and last time.
He eventually discovered a path where none should be which wound amoung groves of green trunked trees to end in a stretch of meadow around a house.
A house. The Forest had been explored before, and other than it's wild inhabitants, no one had been aware of any occupant, yet now in baffling confusion, he was confronting someone standing before a house.
"My dear boy!", called the person, "I did hope you's feel free to stop by. Please do come in."
He-she-it? The stout, much painted, and powdered person, with rosy circles drwn upon it's cheeks, and long diamonds of black paint drawn vertically through it's eyes; this clown acrobat, actor, circus preformer of one kind or other, invisible within it's robes and makeup; this incredible visitant posing in the door of the house and called and beckoned to him like some merchant calling a reluctant customer to it's door. Thoughts of wicked witches, ghouls, and ogres came to mind, but he discarded them. There was a menace about this person, but more subtle than that; terror, but a terror most insidious. If he hadn't finally felt so tired and emotionally drained, he might have left at once. As it were, Baralis approached with his mouth gaped like a simpleton at a fair.
"Thank you for coming! It's been simply so long since I had any visitors! And I doubt that I will any time soon here. This situation between Dworkin Bariman and the Courts just simply begs for disaster. I'm afraid that I shall have to move from dear Arden, it's simply just too closed to visitors."
Baralis found his mouth going where his wits had fled. "It does seem like they are seeking retribution. Oberon will not back down either, he will stand with his father and fight. He seems very determined."
"No! You don't say so! Well, Oberon Bariman always was a nasty little boy who picked his nose at parties when he was little, before he started behaving indecently with anything that passed as female, but I never pictured him the great general! His sister, of course, we used to call- behind her back mind you my dear boy, she'd have been livid- the Ice Princess, because of her cold aloof nature, but I did think Obie had more sense than her."
"So, you're from the Courts then?" he asked.
"Oh good heavens no child! But I have been known to frequent there from time to time." It waved to all about, referring to the expanse in all directions. "I am from here and there and everywhere.. through every imaginable door."
The person fanned itself for a moment, looking off into the distance with a smile in which satisfaction and a certain cynicism, were blended. Then it turned to Baralis with it's false, painted smile.
"Oh, my dear, I'm forgetting my manners entirely. Just see what a little stress will do to normally well-behaved people. Now, where were we? Oh yes. Allow me to introduce myself. I am the Oracle. Not only am, but have been for the remembered past." It gestured to the door. "Please, come in. You must be very tired after all that wood trotting, and I have some soup warming on the fire."
Baralis could already smell it. It was perhaps the one single thing that could have tempted him into that house. He told himself that a rouge or a devil might mimic good humor, and a great many of them did, but surely no one could fake the smell of good soup. For just a moment the smell of the soup lifted his spirits. He went in, and after all.. the Oracle seemed not to be unkindly disposed towards him.
The Oracle was now standing against the wall of it's room, taking bowls from a cupboard and wiping them on a corner of it's fantastic robe. This was made up of straps of bright colors, purple, azure, and gold, all depending from ornamental strips that went from wrist to shoulder, across over the ears and head, and down the other side. Except for the the long pale hands, the creature was totally covered with fabric or paint.
"I haven't met an Oracle before" he said, struggling to be polite, to make conversation.
"Well, my dear young fellow, I should think not," it replied in astonishment. "I may be the only one at all. In fact, I have done some research into the matter, and have discovered no other like me in this or any other realm or domain. That in fact has been part of my problem. You have your Delphi, and of course silly Brede, and all number of prophets and seers. Soothsayers by the dozen standing on street corners. Why should good folk seek an Oracle? Hmm? I ask you. And, of course, I'll answer you, too, my son. Because the Oracle really knows! That's why! Tell them that, and what do they say? They snort or mock. So, I've given up on talking to them at all. I just know. That's all. Let them offer precentages, possibilities.. let them fumble." It declaimed this last, waving it's soup spoon about the room sending droplets of tasting smelling soup everywhere. One landed on his hand and he liked it, and it tasted very good, very flavorful.
"Do you really know?" He found himself asking. The endless whirl within him spinning into silence. Oh to know the right thing for him to do, to have the realities. To hold in his hands the keys, the cure! "Everything, you could tell me everything?"
"Well, of course I could. Will I? That depends, doesn't it. On whether you have the price. Doesn't do to give freebies. Persons of consequence don't respect you. High prices command high respect. Here.. have some soup my bright lad."
It served him a crock of soup and bread with soft yellow cheese.
"You see," he said at last, driven to some desperation. "I am in a bad situation. I belong to this Circle, a group of sorcerors really. I want to continue my good works here in Amber, but I see myself and my brothers crossing purposes with Oberon. I have no idea how I should reconcile myself with him, without betraying my fellows."
"Well, of course, you'll find a way, my dear fellow. You're the noble type. A survivor. When it comes to things like this, your kind always suceeds. In matters like this, one always wants a noble type."
"Well, this noble type doesn't know how to proceed." He looked away. He felt ashamed to display such incredible weakness before this strange creature. "How come do you stay in Arden, here, by the way? You can't get much company?"
I shrugged, blinking its diamond-painted eyes so they squinched into four pointed stars, then opened again. "At one time, Arden wasn't always 'here.' Then, in times past it was elsewhere and I had no end of visitors. The Dworkin worked his little business and Arden came to be here, out in the sticks. Silly man, I don't know know what he thought he was doing."
"You don't?" he asked. "An Oracle should know, shouldn't it?"
It waved a spoon at him in mock chastisement. "Silly boy. I didn't mean that I didn't know, I mean to make conversation. I mean, conversationally, that it does seem silly for him to have drawn that thingee, doesn't it?"
"The ways of the Master, are sometimes incomprehensible to me." Whatever the creature before him was, it was a good cook. No giggling schoolgirl, though it seemed to talk and act very much like one. Without really understanding why, Baralis explained the whole business to it.
"Oh, you poor lad, how you have suffered," it said, seeming to push its top lip down under its top lip down under its lower teeth in a patronizing and condescending expression of sympathy. "Such a brave man!"
"Nothing of the kind," he waved at the creature. Though deep down he did feel as if he was suffering. Why should he and his brothers not share in the bounty, where was the justice in that? Some deep, angry vein had been opened to bleed exactly such self pitying thoughts. He felt as if he was choking on them. "Annoyed man. A frustrated, angry, tired man, if you like."
"Well, yes," agreed the Oracle with irrepressible gaiety. "That too." It offered more bread and cheese, which he refused. "I wonder if you could come up with my fee. It might be worth it to you, considering the way you're feeling."
"How much?" he murmured. "How much, Oracle? In what coin?"
"Well, it would depend on how many questions, wouldn't it? How many do you think you have?"
He sighed. All of his guts were turning and tumbling in that sigh. He tasted the bitterness of his own bile, and willed it away. "One," he said beginning to list them, "why did my mother have to die like that? Two: Why did Father have to blame me for it? Three: Why am I stuck in this delimma, having to choose between two things I care so much about? Four: How am I to choose? Five: What should I actually do? Six: How can I do this so that no one will feel betrayed?"
"Seven" interupted the Oracle, "Will it always be like this, or will there be more hard choices ahead? I will answer that one for you, Baralis. There will be more, much more." It giggled, a high humorless sound rasping like a file.
His throat felt like it was full of tears. The thought of more made him want to pull his hair and go mad.
Oracle gave him an arch look, "Interesting questions, those," it said. "Very interesting questions." It hummed and did a little dance, like a giant whirling moth. "Have some more bread! Or cheese!! I made it myself, with these very soft hands. Not what one was brought up to do, but then.. times do change."
"Thank you," he replied, too weary to move. The creature stopped it's dance, and they sat in silence for several long moments. It never occured to him, if the Oracle was ever going to set a prices for it's services. Later he wondered if at that moment, that was what it was doing. Instead he thought again, if the creature was male or female. It suddenly gave him a very shocked look!
"I thought better of you, Baralis! Really I did."
"I was just.." he made an equivocal gesture. He didn't care, really.
"Well! Whatevere, whichever, no one cares but me and mine. Keep your mind decent and the rest will follow, so my Great-Grandma Acquackabby is said to have said."
"Was she an Oracle, too"
"No doubt," it said, mouth twisted in amusement. "No doubt.. Well, I've decided. I'm going to give you an answer. Not a freebie. You can owe me for it. I'll think of a price later on when our heads are clearer. I've decided to answer number five. That's the one you care about the most, and you and I both know it. Five is a lovely number. I have a passion for prime numbers. So nice to deal with. Besides, it's been my experience that most petitioners often know the answer to most of their questions.. those about your late mother, for example. You know the answers, if you really are honest with yourself. So, as a first time questioner, I'll answer the one that I know that you don't know. I'll trust you for payment. If I may so, my dear, you do seem trustworthy.
I once owned a book, my dear precious Codex. Oh, it was a simply fabulous tome.. so filled with such interesting and useful information. Oh, no.. not the sort of things that people ask about when referring to me in the professional sense. But, a book of magic. Magic that is not available to the commen man. It was stolen by some simply nasty horrid little fellow, and since then it has traded hands many times since then. I don't require it any longer actually." It pointed at it's own bulbous head. "I know everything that it contains. But you see, your dear Master, is the last one to come across my dear lost Codex. I would never presume to accuse Dworkin of stealing it, but I am afraid he is the purchaser of stolen goods. Not that I care, mind you. I think my precious Codex might be able to help you Baralis. Filled with all sorts of things.. immortality spells, scrying magics.. everything you need to figure a long term solution to your problems."
A natural magician, before he insisted that he could never steal from the Master, he asked a little more. "How would I know when I had it, and how could I possibly take it without being caught?"
I drifted over to a closet and opened up a small chest, and seemed to glide back over to him. "Here. Ugly, isn't it?"
It hefted in his hands a large skin bound volume, bound in a strange hide. The cover had no title, but was a mottled black and grey.
"It's only a copy, child. It contains nothing but pages of nonesense, but at a quick rapid examination, it will fool almost anyone." The Oracle's face swelled and receded, like a face in delirium, like a toy balloon. He wanted to laugh, but could not.
He studied the book for a moment. In the inside was indeed nonesense, but the outside 'looked' like an ancient tome of magic.
"It will be fine, dear boy, Dworkin has no need of it.. he long since mastered it's contents too. I would fetch it and place it back in my collection, but I decided I wasn't angry enough at it's loss to care anymore. It's your's for the taking. As a one time true owner, I bequeath it to you." The Oracle laughed again. Perhaps it wasn't anger, but some other dark emotion that hid behind that laughter, Baralis thought, something he didn't care to examine more closely. Instinct told him to leave that house at once, with no further conversation.
Instead he heard himself asking, "Where's the real one?"
"In Dworkin's study, on a shelf. Where any good thief could have it in a minute.. there are no wards on it, I assure you. I'm the Oracle, I know."
"And you say, that with the power contained within the Codex, I can figure out the solutions to all my problems?" To which the creature only smiled and said..
"The problems you are most worried about.."
He lost track of what happened after that. Some more discussion took place, some more bread and cheese consumed. Without realizing when or how, he had wandered back to the Fort and passed out in his small quarters.
In a meeting with the Master a few days hence, he made the switch. Absentminded and distracted, the Master had never noticed. He his the book in his room. It contained all kinds of new secret and unknown sorceries.
He discovered soon, that with patience and cunning, it might not matter what Oberon thought or did.
EPILOGUE:
He did have a pang of guilt the very next day. He went to the Master, and explained to Dworkin that he had met the Oracle.
"The Oracle! Here? Did you speak to it?" He hissed like a tea kettle, hot and full of annoyance.
Frightened that Master Dworkin would assume the shape of something terrible in his rage, he nodded, terrified.
He gave off an angry buzz then, like a whole hive of hornets and wasps, "Oh, Baralis, my lad, what questions did you have!"
He broke then, unable to continue his repetence, fearful of the punishment, "No master.. I- I didn't like the creature! It.. was evil!"
Dworkin studied him for a moment from across the room, as if making a judgement. Finally he slouched back in his favorite chair. "That is well, my boy. You did right in telling me about this. The Oracle, you see, never lies. It always speaks the truth, but never all truth, and that it's speaking comes most often to pain, and malice, and death for someone. Remember that, my foundling."