There May be a Price to Pay
PROLOGUE
The Tanu have many unusual beliefs and philsophies regarding the nature of what they consider to be the 'true' universe, sometimes referred to as the 'Cosmic All.' The term, universe, had long since been discarded for a term applying to an entirety of all that is.
One such belief is held in high favor but often with a certain amount of hypocrisy. That is the subject of the truth. To the Tanu, the truth, is a sign that an object or condition of existance, a fact, even a piece of information, has been strengthened by what they consider to be the power of Order. While something else that is a lie, or rather might only be the truth from one perspective, or might true for the moment but not true later, those things are touched by the Power of Chaos. The truth being inherently orderly, falsehood or illusion being chaotic. That is not to say that the Tanu believe Chaos was false, but Chaos is relative to all things, and not the same to all that it touches. Thus it is falsehood that is attracted to Chaos, not the other way around. Similarly, those shapers of Order were not always above falsehood.
The truth had great power to the Tanu, however. The truth was a thing that resisted decay. It has a natural self-sustaining quality, that resists change, time, and needs no embellishment to continue it's state. A lie however, a lie must be maintained. A falsehood, no matter how strong it is protected, will decay. To keep up a pretense that is false, no matter how well intentioned, requires more energy to hold it, to protect it from falling apart. It's because a lie is a twisting of 'what is'; an imposed unnatural state of thought and being. The universe rejects such an affront, and sooner or later, unless the truth and the lie are forgotten, the falsehood will unravel apart, leaving the truth.
The truth requires no energy to sustain it.
The hypocrisy lies in that the Tanu, individually are capable of falsehood. Falsehood, like Chaos, is after all just a tool to existance.
Interestingly enough, in the records of the Sidhe True, there are legends and stories passed down from their progenitors, the Tanu, of a demon who used the truth as a weapon. It's debateable amoung scholars if this was an actual demon, not bearing a Chaos taint, but most agree in describing it as a terrible force for destruction, that often came in the guise of a friend- or as offering it's 'gift' at a price. It was supposedly a being that used the truth to destroy rather than to create and sustain, and it's tricks were counted as legion.
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MEMORIES
He was arguably the oldest mortal man ever born that still lived to draw breath. Through his enchantments and rituals he had kept himself in vigor and relative health since before the days that Benedict first lofted a blade, and strode outwards to learn more. He was the last of a caste of wizards (excepting that fool who guarded his precious and tainted Fount), who had been hunted to extermination. Now on this day of great advent, he found himself unhappy at being not able to watch and learn more.. for surely today, things were happening in Amber...
In his study he clasped his hands together painfully. They still ached and throbbed to this day, and for all his power he had never found a way to relieve the constant perpetual pain. He was resigned to it for the time being.. too many poisons he'd brewed in his day.. if he could only embrace the Powers, well then anything was possible.
He sat in his comfortable easy chair and started the chants that would send his mind outward, out to one his many spies and humonculi. He spent nary a half an hour searching for the feel of one of his pets who had something to show him.
He was rewarded for his patience.
One of the doves, hiding deep in the lower reaches of Arden, below where the hawks are known to swoop and a smaller bird could stand a chance of surviving, watched from a distance a young appearing woman. Brieanna.
She appeared to be concentrating, almost dozing, though he suspected that should the bird make nary a sound that was out of place her expressive eyes would snap open. What was she doing?
After a moment, caution got the best of him and he willed the bird to withdraw. He would learn nothing from pure observation, and he would take no risk revealing that there were spies in Arden. Of course there were spies in Arden, but Julian thought they blonged all to him. It was enough to be able to mark her location for a moment.
He thought of Prince Julian for a moment and laughed aloud. He remembered the tale told to him so long ago. Once good portions of Shadow were forest, for in those misty ages, there was only as much Shadow as there were possibilities. The word for 'world' had been forest, and the name for 'forest' was Arden.. and Arden was not always where it is now. A primordial Arden, like other things, predated those who dwelled on Kolvir. Prince Julian could hardly claim to know all her secrets.
Those were the words of the Oracle.
Not far from where pretty Brieanna sat, stood the ruins of a little house that probably was probably sunk six feet under the ground. The beams now decayed, the stone walls overed with earth, moss, and grass. Strange, he could even in his study remember the smell of that soup. House in the middle of Arden, for no reason at all, excepting to shelter it's most curious occupant.
Gone. What could you expect? It had to be nearly two thousand seven hundred and thirty years ago, minimum.
Many of those early years he spent in suspended animation, in a blue crystal cave of his own devising. Not only did it protect from the eyes of vengeful Oberon, the blocked any trumps and other trickery that the Son of the Master might have devised. The fast time flow only served to muddle any spells, while he was sleeping agelessly. Centuries in suspension convinced Oberon that the 'Baralis' he thought he'd found and killed was the real one. What a shock for Baralis to discover that Sharu Garrul had also survived.
With a good few thousand years under him, he was confident now that his schemes would go unfettered this time. There would be no Prince Jayson to muddle things up this time.
Still.. time gave way to introspection, and looking back, and considering Julian's daughter, sometimes he wondered if he, Baralis, the Master of the Game, had not also been a pawn on someone else's chess board. It took many years after he'd set things in motion with Julian's family, to stop being bitterly angry at the Oracle. He'd been made promises, and while they all came true, they were hardly what he'd wanted. Delwin and his bitch sister, in exile, served the Oracle's long term purposes, but not his... it had all back fired when they returned to Corilaine. That damn wyrm was bad enough, but when Sand neatly disposed of Travalisk and sired that.. he was at a loss to describe Jayson except in terms of 'dead man walking', he saw a lot of his plans go right down the tubes. Yes, the Oracle had tricked him, used him poorly, but it didn't matter. Now he knew better, and he relied on no one but himself. Soon he would have access to the Powers at last, and woe to anyone who stood in his way.
Still, he had been manipulated... It had seemed the right thing to do at the time, but how could he be sure?
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LONG AGO
In the days when Baralis was still a younger man than today, but still quite old and crafty by mortal standards, he dwelled in Menius. The Menhites were easy to integrate in with, so one as long paid empty lip service to the Great Uncaring Wyrms. He had set about securing an identity for himself, a place to set roots, like he'd done in many other Golden Circle Shadows. Menius had been easy to infiltrate, and from there he'd planned on entering Corilaine, and perhaps he one day bracing himself to involve Euterpe in his spiderwebs.
That's why, after a millenium, his visitor seemed such an affront to him. This servant, a valet who had served him for a few years, and could be counted to be discreet (or easily disposed of), and interupted an important experiment with a new rune structure he'd discovered. After pressing the man for the description of the person (of undeterminable sex) who identified themselves as an 'old friend', he'd felt his blood run cold.
He indicated that the person should be shown to his study, the valet dismissed for the afternoon.
How had it found him, and made it's way here, to a private sanctum?
A portly, round, utterly clownish figure. It's face covered totally with black and white grease paint, large black diamonds covering it's hungry little beady eyes. It's clothes were straight from a carnival, composed entirely of ribbons of all manner of color. sewn in stripes that flowed and covered a seemingly shapeless body.. A large hat with a broad sweeping rim obscured the rest of it's head, topped with a brightly colored curved feather of some bird that not even the Serpent Mage could indentify. The only thing revealed were bone white hands, long and with exaggerated knuckles, delicate, spider-like. The figure seemed to give off an air of thinly concealed menace.. or was it malice? The Oracle.
On his first encounter with the Oracle, it had seemed only mildly frightening, like some boggart dreamed up to frighten little children. Now, the aura of the Oracle seemed much more tangible to him, surrealistic but very much present.
But he was no longer the same worried young man that he had once been. He had changed too. The Serpent Mage as he was known then, was hardly one to be easily intimidated.
Entering the study he found it studying his collection of knick knacks and curios. For such a large and ungainly creature it moved with a deceptive grace. He cleared his throat to announce himself, and then internally cursed himself for having felt the need in his own home.
It turned at once, and regarded him merrily with beady little black eyes hidden in the clownish guise.
"Baralis, why you have grown and become a man! A handsome one at that.. I would dare say that you don't look a day over a thousand!" It squealed in mock delight at seeing him.
He stared coldly at the being. He was no young fool anymore. He wasn't naieve enough to believe it was all just a dream, he remembered that spellbound night he wandered from the fort that was Amber, and out into Ancient Arden to learn of a plot against him and of a Tome of great power that could be used to protect him. In one quick stroke the Oracle had not only greeted him in this playful facade it wore, but by mentioning his age reminded him that he owed this.. thing.. this person, a debt.
The Oracle favored him with a sour expression, "Now there is no call for being like that.. I always collect my debts, but I assure you Sir, I am a person." It sniffed, "With feelings like any other."
At once Baralis snapped up his mental shields. How the hell?!? He hadn't been leaking on the subvocals.. or had he..
Coyly, he changed his demeanor, "Of course, I recall.. 'Keep a clean mind and the rest will follow?' My apologies." He paused for a moment, "Would you like a seat, a cup of tea perhaps? I had some just freshly brewed."
The vaugely elephantine personage with the slender hands slid it's bulk to a large couch and plopped itself down. "Yes, please. Cream and sugar, and spare me the special ingredients." There was a twisted merry sound to the beings voice.
As for Baralis, he froze behind the creature for in imperceptible moment, considering just how much the Oracle knew him.
Serving the both tea, the Mage briskly reopend the dialouge. "So, what is it that I can do for you, to account for this pleasant visit." He played to the Oracle's game of polite civility.
"Well, if you simply must know, I have a wide range of clients. I try to keep a brisk business dear. Times are good, if you care to know, but that means a rapid turn over. Sometimes someone's account comes a little over due. Imagine that! I swore to myself only to extend credit to good paying customers, folk with an appreciation for value."
Staying perfectly still, Baralis quickly brought to mind a little congolmeration of sorcery, conjuration, laced with a potent rune structure. A weapon that he had hung in the form of a sorcery spell that he could summon instantly that would also be backed by some of the most potent runes he could scribe, all discovered after his raping of the Codex for all it was worth. If this entity thought that it was going to stroll in here and make an issue of a debt it never before tried to collect..
"Of course, my dear Baralis, you remain on my books as a solid account.." the creature blithely continued.
Baralis relaxed slightly. "Someone doesn't like your price?"
"And it's most reasonable too!" It shook it's head slightly, "I've no idea what gets into people after they get what they want.." It fanned it's face ridiculously with a hand that was too boney to create any wind at all. "I try to help them, poor unfortunate souls, in pain, in need. And then they turn on you, and everyone once and a while one must rake them over the coals." It made a fist at that statement, and pounded it lightly in it's other palm.
"So you've come to discuss my debt," Baralis sipped his tea thoughtfully, watching intently. "Which I hoped has not been raised to recompensate for your other loss."
The Oracle tittered gleefully, "You are such a funny fellow.." It puffed and wheezed having seemed to exert itself with the merriment. "Of course not!" It paused for a moment, thinking, and then suddenly said, "I''ve been reconsidering my billing practices, thinking perhaps my rates were too high. Too late for this individual, they should have contested the price at the time of agreement, but your's is a different case."
"How so?" he asked softly.
"Our agreement was merely promisary, a verbal contract for an unspecified service. Nothing formalized other than the condition of obligation. In other words, it's still a matter of arbitration."
He nodded, "And what do you think would be a fair price?"
It chuckled again, "Oooh you're a crafty one aren't you?! I'm supposed to ask that.."
"I do what I can," he gave a mock bow from his seated position.
"Actually, what I was saying regarding pricing, was this new notion I had to ask things that might be of mutual benefit in the long term. The clients would be less inclined to balk that way."
"Sounds sensible," he replied, growing a little tired of the banter.
"That's why I've come to you. To settle upon our agreed price... a small thing really, not much trouble for-"
"Please," he interupted smoothly, "I do have a very busy itinarary this afternoon. Could you explain what it is that you think would resolve this matter between us."
It's face swelled slightly, as if deciding if he was impertinant or not, whether to consent, or to quarrel. It exhaled slowly, a dry smell like a warm autumn wind.
"Of course, I'll get to the point. I wish you to collect from this overdrawn account, in the form of their life, and in a manner in which I may make an example of them."
He nodded, that at least, depending on the individual was something he could debate, and consider, rather than all this contrite and tiresome conversation.
"Who pray tell is the negligent debtor?"
"Why her name is Rilga," it replied cheerfully.
He nearly dropped his cup and saucer. He set them down hastily in the polished hardwood end table. "Excuse me, did I hear you correctly? Did you say RILGA? As in Oberon's wife, the *!%@ing Queen of Amber?"
The Oracle frowned, "Why yes, yes she is.. Please, no coarse language, I dislike profanity, it's poor manners. I believed you were raised better than that Baralis."
He swallowed, "I think some explaination is in order."
The Oracle stared at him dourly, "I do have a Client Confidentiality Clause you know." It waved him away, "However, if you simply must know, Rilga dear, wanted to know how to snare herself a good husband.. She had a queer notion as to what constituted a good husband, but since power, influence, and politics were a consideration, I felt that I upheld my part of the bargin admirably. You'd agree wouldn't you?"
"Oh, I would say that Oberon.." he said the name distatefully, as if having put something quite sour in his mouth, "would qualify as a good catch, if those are you specifications."
"I concur, and so did she. However, know that the time has come, and I was quite specific as to her terms of payment, there seems to be some disagreement as to how we're to rectify the matter."
He picked up a plate of small bisquits and cookies and offered it to the figure reminsicint of some nightmare escaped from a circus. The Oracle politely declined, but he helped himself to one, pausing before taking a bite to ask, "To be perfectly frank, if you're confident enough to brace me in my home, I'm curious why you feel you can't attend to the matter yourself."
It shrugged, it's entire form moving with the gesture. "I'm not omnipotent dear.. Even I won't claim that.. Besides, I was raised better than that. No no, no, I shouldn't like to muddy my poor hands.." It looked at it's hands critically, and Baralis at once recalled his own ruined hands, and how the creature had once complained that it's own hands were meant for finer things than kneading bread. Peculiar how the events of thousands of years ago should come back with such preternatural clarity. "Even if I was so disposed, I am afraid that Rilga has stepped beyond our agreement herself. Tipped off her hubby, and goodness knows, that pompous lecherous boy may have even consulted with his father. If I am hesitant to confront you, and since we are being so very straightforward, I should really dislike confronting Oberon and Dworkin. No, no, that will not do at all."
His hands throbbed as he reflexively stretched them, and brushed a crumb from his black velvet tunic. "Again, how am I to do what you can not."
"That's easy my dear fellow! They can watch and ward for me.. You are a random factor beyond their control. They can simply can't prepare for an unknown such as you."
"I must decline," he said briskly and with no hesitation, "as you pointed out, my own survival relies on my anonyminity I'm afraid that is quite out of the question."
Those canny eyes fastened upon him, and while it made no motions, and his mage sight revealed no forthcoming sure magical energy, he resisted the urge to shiver. The creature had found him, and damn near stole up upon him, without alerting him at all.
"And your aforementioned service that is owed to me?"
"To be resolved in a less perilous procedure."
"I see."
He waited for a further plea, and finally, the silence growing uncomfortable, he prompted it to speak.
It gave a heavy sigh, "I dislike that you put me in this position, for I feel like once again, I must give freebies away just to ensure that you keep our committment, but nontheless, I see I must simple forgo sensible business practices..
"Do you recall," it continued, "that I mentioned that I was considering only asking things tp be done that were of mutual benefit..?"
"Yes. This then you are saying, is just such a situation?" There was a definite note of sarcasm in his voice, either that or disbelief.
"Quite," it responded. "Quite indeed. When he didn't answer, and the pause became pregnant. "I suppose I shall have to explain then," it growled annoyed and inconsistant to it's usually sickeningly sweet tones. "Very well then.. it begins in what at this moment is to be the fate of Amber. At this moment, now that Julian's pup is a squawling three years old, you are only 16 times 17 years away from Bleys being crowned King of Amber, and your own neck broken in the hangman's noose.."
And so it began a tale of events that would lead to Clarissa's oldest manling to becoming the King of Amber, and with the help of a brother yet unconcieved, to conquering Chaos itself.. and his own execution.
At first he chose not to believe it, but then when it was all layed out.. Neatly like dominoes.. he could see the patterns. It did not lie, the year was indeed (-278) and ten years ago Harven of Corilaine was left with an elven bastard child who was developing to be an exceptional beauty. In ten years, if he kept true to form, Oberon would start to wander..
He listened intently as the entity spun the future out to him like some sage spider, the past, present and future silk threads on it's loom.