Mystery

It was beautiful, to say the least. So beautiful that I considered staying up 'till sunrise to watch the land catch fire. I had, after all, all the time in the world and then some. I would never die of disease or old age and I could survive most physical trauma. Immortality was still an idea I was growing accustomed to. My travels in shadow had proved beyond a doubt that I was something of an enigma and slowly but surely I had begun to abandon the religious teachings of my youth, though my faith had never been very strong to begin with.

Amber, like immortality, was still something I was coming to terms with. No matter how much I thought I knew about her, there was always more.

The sound of far off footsteps stirred me from my thoughts and I turned from the darkened window, passing a guard making his rounds.

Since returning from shadow the library had become my haven. It was generally empty, especially at night, and there were enough books there to keep me busy for quite some time.

The doors swung silently inwards as I entered the library. It was indeed empty, though I had expected no less.

Without pausing I plucked a red, well worn paperback from the shelves and curled up on the couch before a silent fireplace.

So engrossed was I in my reading that I did not hear the doors open.

"Your up late, aren't you Shannon?" a voice boomed from across the room.

I looked up, startled, and dropped my reading.

"Uncle Gerard," I smiled, bending down to retrieve the book.

He walked over to me, a large leather bound tome in hand. "What are you reading?" he asked.

"Sonnets," I said, holding up the paperback. "They're from the shadow called Earth. Written by a man named Shakespeare."

"Ah, Shakespeare," he said. He caulked his head to one side. "Do you like mysteries, Shannon?"

I thought for a moment, then nodded. "They are not but my favorite, but I have been known to enjoy them."

He nodded, a bulky movement, then put the leather bound book on the table next to me. "When you tire of Earth's tripe then give this a try." He patted the book as he went by.

I raised my eyebrows. "I would hardly call it tripe, Uncle."

He smiled. "To each his own. I'll only be a minuet," he said, walking away. "I came to find something to lull me to sleep."

"Well, this certainly is the place for it." I turned back to my sonnets, not giving him or the his book much thought. But I did listen. I listened for the familiar sound of the library doors scraping against the carpet. The sound which would tell me I was alone once more. Only, I never heard it.

Finally, I looked up from my book. It had been a good twenty minuets since Gerard and I had traded words and I could not concentrate knowing there was someone else in the library, only he was not there.

"Uncle Gerard?" I called. My voice echoed faintly against the ancient walls. I stood, letting the book of sonnets fall to the ground.

"Uncle Gerard?" I tried again. I paced the length of the library, but did not see him. I shook my head and scaled the catwalk. No one. I must have missed him leaving, even though I had been listening.

Resuming my seat, I began to read once more.

Sometime later the door scraped the carpet. I turned, book in hand. "Gerard?"

But there was no one was leaving the library, only someone entering it.

"What was that, Shannon?" Fiona asked.

"Oh, hello, Mother." I carefully closed the book and stood to greet her.

She shook her head. "Do you have any idea what time it is?" "Rather late, I suppose." I shrugged and crossed the distance between us.

"Get some rest," she scolded. "Don't sleep in the library."

I smiled as she brushed past me, heading towards the shelves where the older books were kept. "Yes, Mother."

She sighed and ran one finger along the worn spines. "If you do insist on spending the night here at least build a fire. There's a draft in here." She fingered a thick blue book, then pulled it from the shelf and began to leaf through it.

Dutifully, I walked over to the fire place and began to pile the kindling.

"Mother," I asked, "do you know where Gerard is?"

"Gerard?" she replied absently. "I believe he left for Cisoren this morning."

My hand faltered as I went to strike the flint. Slowly, I looked towards the nearby table. The thick leather bound tome sat there, undisturbed.

"Why?" Fiona's voice cut through the silence and returned my focus to the flint.

"Oh, no real reason. I just thought I saw him earlier."

My Mother came up beside me, a large green art book in hand. "I'm afraid that's impossible. If it wasn't Cisoren it was somewhere else. I'm positive he left this morning."

The flint did not spark. "Hmmm." I struck it again, still nothing. "I must have been imagining things."

She sat the book down and knelt beside me, gentling pulling the flint away. "There are easier ways to do this."

One word from her mouth and the fire leapt to life, crackling merrily.

"Much easier," I admitted.

Fiona stood, grabbing her book. "You will learn sooner or later," she said confidently. "You will learn."

I smiled faintly, putting the flint away. "Later than sooner it seems."

She chuckled and left, the door making a satisfactory "swish" as it passed over the carpet.

Slowly, I turned from the fire and picked up the book "Gerard" had left for me.

Tome of Mysteries was printed in fading gold letters across the front.

"'Tome of Mysteries,'" I said, tracing the faded letters with my index finger. Gold flakes crinkled and fell to the floor. It was not as thick as I had thought it was. Maybe three hundred pages at most. The binding was brown, cracked leather and there were water spots on the back.

"Hmmm......" I turned the book this way and that. It appeared utterly ordinary and very old.

Carefully, I opened it. There was no title page, though from the condition of the binding it was not all that unlikely that it had been lost long ago.

The pages were yellowed and the ink was a faded brown color. The script was loopy and very neat. I ran one finger down the table of contents musing over the odd names of the stories.

"'The Tragic Disappearance of the Blond Maid,'" I read. "'Trapped, the Tale of One Queen's Lover.' 'The Mystery of Chetnik the Guardsmen.' What unusual titles." I continued to read the strange appellations, but felt no compulsion to read any of them. I turned the page and saw that the table of contents continued on for another page and a half.

Sighing, I tossed the book on the couch and turned to tend to the fire. Stretching and yawning I reached for my book of sonnets when the Tome of Mysteries caught my eye. It was open to a chapter very near the back of the book. I glanced at it.

"'The Disappearance of King Oberon's Sword and It's Seeker.'" I sat and pulled the book on to my lap.

It was the eve of the festival of the Falling Flowers. The King and his consort lay sleeping. The entire castle lay sleeping, caught between wine and exhaustion in a pleasant slumber that lulled even the boisterous of babes to slumber. I yawned.

All but one. A lone figure slipped past the sleeping guards, their lips sticky with lavender wine. Past the tree lined paths of the garden and through a servants entrance the thief crept.

He slipped into the kitchen and sampled some remains of sweet bread before creeping up the stairs. No one saw him, for there was no one left awake.

Through the main halls he crept, stopping at the doors of the King's rooms. He paused then, and listened for some sound within the walls, but none came, so he took a slender pick from his pocket and forced the lock open.

The wooden door swung slightly open and the thief crept past the sleeping King and his dark haired mistress. In the darkness he reached for a piece mounted on the wall. It was a great sword, made of silver. The hilt was that of a fierce serpent coiled for an attack.

The serpents fangs drew blood as the thief grasped the blade, but he did not feel the pain, for this was his triumph. His moment of glory. He had stolen the King's sword.........

Someone was shaking me and calling my name.

"Shannon," the voice called. I felt a pull at my sleeve. "Shannon."

Blinking, I opened my eyes. "Lorius?"

My brothers eyes narrowed. "Did you spend all night in the library?"

"Hm?" I blinked and rubbed my eyes. "Is it morning already?"

Lorius poked at the embers of the long dead fire. "Yes, sleepy head."

"Oh." I set the Tome of Mysteries aside and stood, stretching.

"Were you really here all night?" Lorius asked.

I yawned and nodded.

He grinned. "So you haven't heard."

"Heard what?" I asked.

"The serpent blade was stolen last night," he replied.

I was perplexed. "The what?"

My brother snorted disdainfully. "King Oberon's sword."

My heart skipped a beat. "Whose?"

"The King's," Lorius said with disgust. "The ceremonial sword."

"Of course." I ran a hand through my hair and glanced towards the Tome of Mysteries.

Lorius followed my gaze. "What are you reading?"

"Nothing." I grabbed for the book, but Lorius got to it first.

"'The Disappearance of King Oberon's Sword and It's Seeker,'" he read. "What an appropriate bit of bedtime reading."

I nodded. "Give me the book."

He handed it over and wandered off, exploring a far corner of the library.

Slowly, I closed the book. "What is going on?"

Lorius pulled a black paperback from the shelf and turned towards me. "You coming to breakfast?"

"Breakfast? No...no, I'll pass," I said.

He shrugged and left the room.

Clutching the mystery book I ran to the history section and began to pull books off the shelves. They were all wrong. I knew them, their size, their shape, their smell.......but they were wrong.

I flipped through a hardcover copy of "The History of Amber's Monarchy."

I stopped in the middle of the book and studied the pages. There was a collection of black and white photographs, featuring the famous members of Amber's monarchy. The one that caught my eye was "King Oberon and His Children."

My late grandfather stood in the center and slightly above a brood of men and women all of whom were familiar - they were my aunts and uncles. However, there were too many.

I read the caption under the picture and felt my heart beat quicken. "Osric....Finndo.......imposisble." Quickly, I flipped open to the title page. The book was only two years old.

Normally I would not have defaced a book in such a way, but I ripped the page with Oberon and his children from the binding and shoved the book back on the shelf.

Quickly, I left the library. Lorius was leaning against one wall, smoking a cigarette.

I stopped to stare at him, letting the library door slam shut behind me.

"When did you start smoking?" I asked, surprised.

He raised his eyebrows. "Before you were born, sis."

There was something wrong with Lorius, other than the cigarette.

Maybe it was the fact that he had not said anything truly nasty or cynical since I woke up.

"Are you waiting for me?" I asked, suspiciously.

He nodded, taking a long drag on the cigarette. "I'm going to be your escort to breakfast."

"I am not hungry," I said quickly.

He frowned. "You have to come to breakfast."

"I am not hungry," I repeated.

With a scowl he tossed the cigarette on to the ground and stepped on it. "The story can not progress until you do."

"What?" I asked.

"What's that?" He pointed to the page of the history book I had clutched in one hand.

"A photograph," I said, not very nicely.

Lorius smiled, but it was off somehow. "Yes, a photograph." He stepped towards me and grabbed it form my hand.

I moved away from my brother as he studied the picture.

While I was not as skilled as many of my kin when it came to the matters of weaponry, I did know enough.

I bent down and slid the dagger from it's sheath. I moved quickly forward, hitting Lorius with a solid blow in the chest before he could react.

He looked shocked and staggered backwards, the page falling from his hands.

I pulled out of the lunge, taking the knife with me.

There was no blood.

Knife in hand I took a step back, preparing to defend myself. "What are you?"

The man who wore my brothers face stood there, one hand held just below his heart, where the blade had entered. His hand slowly fell away. Not even the fabric was torn.

"Don't you know?," he said, not moving.

I shifted my weight a bit. "Why do you think I do?"

He smiled. "This is your story."

I cocked my head. "What are you babbling about?"

He folded his hands in front of him and regarded me with an amused smile. "You opened the book."

"It was just a book. What does it have to do with anything?" I asked.

"It isn't just a book," he said. "It's something more. Something old. Something magical."

"And what are you?" I asked, slowly lowering the knife.

He bowed. "I am the narrator, of course."

"Of course." I lowered the knife completely, but did not put it away. "Why my brother's face?"

He shrugged, and utterly graceful movement akin to that of a lazy cat.

"I did not chose," he replied. "The book chose for me. Before you opened the book, I did not exist. When you leave the book, I will cease to exist. That is the way things are."

I shook my head. "This is all too strange......"

"The book has the power to draw it's reader into it, utterly and completely. In your world, time flows, just as it flows here, only faster. However, you exist here on a psychic level while your body remains in the other world."

Years of medical school came back to me. "In other words my body is a catatonic state."

He smiled. "I'd say it's more than that. You see, if you leave I won't exist. This is my one chance for existence. If I keep you here until your body dies, then your mind will be forced to remain."

"Do not be absurd," I said. "Someone will find me then and my Mother is a great sorceress. She could wreck havoc on any spell you have created."

"Ah," he looked delighted, "but that's the best part - I have created nothing. You did all the work. Wether you practice it or not, you have the unconscious ability to use sorcery. Your subconscious created this world and trapped you here. The spell is linked to your brain. If someone were to try and remove it, your head would explode."

"What a pleasant thought," I muttered. "Seeming as this was created by own subconscious and I am now functioning on a higher level of conscious, I should be able to control what happens, yes?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because no matter what I tell you and no matter how logical it seems, it still isn't reality for you. You are trapped within an illusion and even though you know it's an illusion, you don't know. Follow me?"

I scowled. "All to well. What must I do then to escape for here?"

"It's a story." He smiled. "Therefore, you must finish it."

"I have to find the stolen sword," I said softly.

"Yes."

"But.....there are no people."

"That's because the story hasn't started yet."

"I see. So what is all this with you?"

"Think of it as a prologue. Would you like me to resume the story?"

I thought about it for a moment. "There is no other choice, now is there?"

"No," he smiled. "There isn't. Now go back the library and sit down."

I did as I was told. There was no other way I could see to get out of the.....story.

"Now close your eyes," he instructed in Lorius' voice. I did as I was told.

I could feel the world come alive around me. The voices were low at first, but they became louder with each passing second.

"Shannon," a voice came, but I did not open my eyes. "Shannon....." Someone pulled at my sleeve.

I turned and opened my eyes. My Mother stood next to me, her eyes glowing like emerald lava.

"Mother," I blinked.

She gave me an amused smile. "I can't believe you slept through all the commotion."

"Commotion?" I stood.

"Oberon's sword has been stolen," she said.

"Really?" I tried to look interested, though I knew exactly what she was going to say.

"Yes, one of our greatest treasures taken from right under our noses. It shows that Random just isn't the man for the job. Why, if I was in charge I would never leave something as valuable as that just lying around. Of course, the thief did sneak into his room and steal it. Still, you'd think Random would have cared for Father's treasure better."

She walked off then, babbling to herself, leaving me alone in the library which appeared to be that of Amber herself, though if this was something drawn from my mind, then the library, at least, should appear accurate.

I stood.

"What now?" I murmured.

"Now, the story begins."

I turned and there he stood, wearing my brothers body.

"Oh, you," I said.

Turning, I left the library. He laughed behind me. "There isn't much time, Shannon......"

I ignored him, but his voice followed me. "Try going to breakfast and see what you learn."

There were a number of people in the halls - too many. Amber had a great deal of servants, but they were never everywhere......

I weaved through the crowd of maids and brightly dressed butlers.

Forget about breakfast, I knew where I had to go.

The guard at the top of the stairwell gave me a suspicious look, but said nothing as he passed a lamp in my direction.

The staircase was long and spiraled downwards into the dark.

I made my way through the tunnels and turned the final corner, beyond which was the Pattern.

"Shannon," a heavy mailed hand fell on my shoulder.

I was startled and nearly dropped my lamp. Turning, I faced him.

"Julian!"

He smiled broadly. "Ah, and how is my favorite niece?"

My stomach churned. Julian was never this nice, even when my mother was present.

"I....I am quite well, thank you," I stammered.

He nodded, the uncharacteristic smile still gracing his face. It was such a foreign expression that it made him appear more frightening than usual.

"I'm glad to hear it. Quite a commotion isn't there?"

"Ah, yes......"

"What are you doing down here? This is no place for a lady."

I gave my best smile. "I was hoping to walk the Pattern."

His expression soured slightly. Not the Julian I knew, but closer to him. "I'm afraid I can't you do that. Random's orders."

"Oh," I replied. "I understand."

He smiled again. "That's a good girl." He squeezed my shoulder.

I moved away from him and retraced my steps until I reached the base of the stairs. Setting the lamp down, I checked my pockets, but there were no trumps.

However, if this was an illusion created by my own psyche.......

I closed my eyes and stepped forward.........and emerged in the library.

Behind me someone clapped.

The "narrator" stood there, smiling. "Very clever."

I glared at him. "I assumed that since this is my illusion I should have some control, even I can not escape it entirely."

"You could have fought the knight, you know." He leaned against a nearby bookshelf and yawned.

I smiled. "Why play into your hands?"

He cocked his head to one side. "My hands?"

"I am not stupid," I said. "I know that was not my Uncle. It was a character wearing his face, as you wear my brothers. However, if I were to go against the King's orders I would find myself in a jail cell, yes?"

He shrugged. "I suppose so."

"As long as I am free, I can still try to fight my way out of this."

"True."

"You have not won yet." I turned to leave.

"Oh, but I have. You just don't know it yet," he smirked.

I left the library and made my way towards the dining room. Breakfast, at least, seemed safe even if my brothers strange doppleganger told me to go there.

All my relatives were there, from Benedict to Martin. And they were all talking. Not in whispers, but in loud, bellowing voices.

There were various breakfast foods strewn about the table and side buffet table. Eggs, sausage, pancakes, gravy, biscuits, and plenty of other more obscure foods. I dared not eat any of it, recalling a story I once read of a girl who went to Hell and ate it's fruit and was then forced to stay there for half a year, every year.

Instead I poured myself a cup of coffee, which I was not planning on drinking, and wandered over to the table.

The only free seat was between Flora and Bleys and I took it, careful not to spill my drink.

Flora was having a very animated conversation with Llewella across the table, so I turned to Bleys and asked him if the thief had been caught.

"You haven't heard, Shannon?" he asked me in a booming voice.

I shook my head. "I just woke up. Mother told me the sword was stolen, but I do not know much else."

Bleys' eyes sparkled. "The thief ran into a drunk guard who sounded the alarm. They chased him about the castle and around town - those who were sober enough."

"Did they catch him?" I asked hopefully.

He shook his head and stuffed a sausage in his mouth. "They killed him," he said through a mouthful of food.

"Killed him?" I asked in a small voice.

"Yep. But they didn't find the sword. They chased the bastard for an hour solid. He hid it somewhere before he died though." He swallowed.

"Why did they kill him if they knew he had the sword?"

"They were drunk." He turned away from me then and began to eat his eggs.

I attempted to make conversation with Flora, but to no avail. Deciding that I learned everything I was going to learn, I stood, leaving my coffee untouched atop a pretty cream saucer.

I made my way out of the dining room and found a guard. "Excuse me, but could tell me where this thief was killed last night?"

"Yes ma'am," he nodded. "They chased him into the city. Killed him down by the wharf they did."

"The wharf?" I felt my hopes sink.

"Yes ma'am."

I grimaced. "Thank you."

I left him and returned to the library to think.

Lorius was still there, leaning against a bookshelf. "Have you given up?"

"This is not a very fair story," I said, stopping before him.

"What's unfair about it?" He pulled a cigarette from his pocket.

I grabbed the filthy thing from his mouth and flung it aside before he had a chance to light it.

"It is impossible!" I raged. "The thief hid it somewhere between the Castle and the wharf! There are over a million places!"

He laughed and played with a book of matches. "That is the point. I want to live on, so your mystery has to impossible."

I shook my head, realization dawning. "So there is no real way to solve this?"

Taking another cigarette from his pocket he grinned. "No."

I smiled then. "There is no sword, is there? It's just a red herring."

"Is it?" He lit a match.

"I think it is."

He lit the cigarette and let the match fall to the floor. The carpet began to smolder and he stamped it out.

The thin wisps of smoke gave me an idea.

"I will win this game." I stalked over to the history section and grabbed the Tome of Mysteries, which lay where I had left it.

Without a word I rushed out of the library and down the hall. I continued on until I reached the entrance to the spiral staircase that led to the Pattern.

"Give me a lantern," I demanded.

The pox scarred guard passed me one, the watched in surprise as I turned and fled back down the hall rather than down the stairs.

I stopped at the first hallway candleholder I found and pulled a stick from it. Quickly, I lighted the candle from the lamp.

"What are you doing?" Lorius was there, though I had not heard him approach.

Without a word I blew out the lamp.

I poured the oil over the book, inbetween the pages, holding the candle as far away from it as possible.

Lorius paled. "If you burn that you'll die, too."

I smiled. "I am the master of my fate, wether it be in the real world or on some psychic plane."

He shook his head slowly, unbelieving. "Don't........you don't know what will happen........"

I shrugged. "Then I will find out while you burn." I dropped the candle. The book caught aflame instantly.

"No......" Lorius stepped back and watched in horror as his clothes caught on fire.

The walls began to burn, slowly at first, then faster.

I could feel the heat surround me. I began to run. Amber burned around me, yet I was untouched. It was horrible and, somehow, beautiful. They burned, the people of this dream world, but not as real people do - these creatures twisted and writhed, their features melting into one another as the colors of their clothes and faces dripped to the floor.

Dizziness assailed me and I fell, tripping over a molten mass of brilliance which once was a person. My head spun and I watched the last remnants of a tapestry melt into a puddle around me.

He was before me then, tall and dour, that thing which wore my brothers body. His features had not melted like the others, but he burned, oh, did he burn.

"Shannon," his voice was thick and barely audible.

His clothes were enveloped and his hair, too, was aflame. I watched as his eyes were replaced by flames. I tried to stand, but found my body would no longer obey me.

He stretched a hand towards me. "You've destroyed me." He took a lurching step towards me.

I shook my head. "Stay away."

Another step, then another. He stared down at me with eyes of flame and opened his mouth in a soundless scream of agony as his body seemed entirely consumed by the fire.

The pillar of flame fell and I, too, screamed, only mine echoed in my ears as the world flashed red, then orange, and, finally, black.

"Shannon," the voice called. I felt a pull at my sleeve. "Shannon."

Blinking, I opened my eyes. "Mother?"

Fiona gazed down at me, raising her eyebrows. "Did you spend all night in the library?"

I ran a hand through my hair. The Tome of Mysteries lay open in my lap. Embers of the fire remained, glowing faintly in the hearth.

"What time is it?" I asked, standing. I placed the book, still open, on a nearby table.

"Not long after dawn," she said, peering down at the book. "'The Disappearance of King Oberon's Sword.' I didn't know you liked reading mysteries, Shannon."

Stretching, I moved away from her. "I like them less now then I did before."

She came up beside me. "Why?"

I smiled faintly. "I had the most horrific dream which was a mystery of a sort."

She shook her head. "Shannon, Shannon, Shannon. Haven't I always told you to watch what you read before you go to bed?"

"Yes, Mother," I replied meekly. "Though, I was not planning on sleeping here."

Fiona sniffed the air. "Do you smell something burning?"

The two of us turned and I gasped in horror.

The Tome of Mysteries was merrily burning atop the table.

Fiona said something I could not even hope to repeat correctly and the fire died down quickly.

We walked over to the table and I gingerly fingered the scorched leather binding.

"It's ruined," Fiona said, watching me.

I nodded. "The pages are all but completely gone."

Gently, I pulled at the remaining edges which crumbled beneath my fingers.

"There is not much heat," I said finally.

"I wondered what caused it," Fiona said curiously. "Not the fire, I would think." She gazed down at the dying embers. "Any ideas, Shannon?"

Absently, I wiped the ash and soot onto my pants. "None."

She stared down at the book. "How unusual." I nodded in agreement.

It had been just a dream......hadn't it?