Sophia - Journal Entry 09.03

It all started falling apart when Sir Garrett walked through my workshop door. It's not that he was responsible for the events of the last week ... far from it, but his presence was a harbinger, an omen of changes to come.

The wedding bands for him and his new wife turned out nicely—golden bands with silver vines of ivy intertwining around the center—with the standard glamour added, of course they turned out well. They always do. But because they turned out so well, they invited me to their wedding, and then it was like the veritable cascade of dominoes ... one thing falling upon another so fast you can't stop them unless you dive right in front of them. The only problem with that is that one usually gets smashed in the process.

I never much thought about my survival instinct before, but I would rather not be smashed. I have had enough smashing in my life already. I would rather just hide. Unfortunately, it doesn't seem that hiding is an option anymore. People keep knocking on the door and ask to be let in!

I was stuck with Cousin Sedgewick at the wedding. I would have rather have sat by myself, to brood or to enjoy the beauty of the day in quiet soliloquy, singular in the middle of a crowd just the way I like it. Instead I had the Spectre of Doom sitting next to me. It's not physicalities which render that epithet, it's attitude. If it was possible to have a weather front hanging over one, he would have a dark, drizzling cloud overhead. I believe that people can love each other, and love truly This was what I saw with mamma and pappa. I do not believe that such is for me, but I do believe in it. He seemed to feel it (the wedding, the devotion) was all a farce. Of course, that may be a dog-in-the-manger pose he adopts to protect himself from feeling the lack in his own life. I am familiar with such tactics.

The reception was interesting. I was freed of Sedgewick's doom and gloom countenance, and had the opportunity to converse with Vialle and the young Julietta. And while I would rather have been in my workshop, these were pleasant encounters with people who seem to not care much about outer appearances (Vialle never seems to care about such). Later in the evening, a young man and his supposed affianced were having a loud 'discussion' in the garden, and all present gathered around like vultures to watch the death and the dying. It did not end well. The young man heard that the woman had broken her betrothal and had, indeed, already married another. Poor fellow. I shall make a heart's ease for him. A reminder that there is more beauty in the world beyond one person's love.

Soon afterward, unnatural storm clouds gathered, and by force of magic, an old Rebman woman was deposited in the center of the ballroom floor, still dripping. She mumbled a long verse many times over, and then died. The poor woman. I wonder if she understood what was happening to her, or even who we were I also wonder if she died because of the power needed for the message's delivery, or because she was near to death anyway and this just finalized it. That would have been a hard death, I think, on the cold stones of an Amber ballroom. Frivolity and reality what a juxtaposition.

My Cousin, Rolfe, took things in hand afterwards, and the party went on, almost as cheerfully as it had been before the interruption. Rolfe makes me nervous. He has this streak of absolutism that causes me much discomfort. I prefer many shades of gray in my world he prefers the black and white. This is not to say that my Cousin would not be a good person to have around in a fight. As all of Amber knows, he was instrumental in keeping the Dark outside of Amber for many years. I simply do not wish to argue "faith" with him, or shades of grey. How does one argue "greys" when the other person can not see them?

Then there is Cousin Mallory. Half-brother to Sedgewick, on Benedict's side. Mallory is very easy to talk to, polite ... so far a gentleman. It has been refreshing to speak with one who asks instead of advises all the time. He does not presume to know what is best.

It is interesting to view my gentlemen cousins, and to compare how they interact with others. Mallory seeks council, offers advice as an equal (not necessarily as an authority), and doesn't seek to impress you with who he is, or what he does. Rolfe tends to speak from a position of authority, even if the authority is imagined. This is not necessarily a bad thing, and I am sure there a rather have a leader than not. Since I pre is not something which frequents me. Sedgewick I've already discussed in enough detail, though I will say his brand of narcissism is not one I favor. I understand it, but I do not agree with it. There is something ... untoward, I suppose, about this assumption of superiority which Sedgewick and Rolfe adopt. We each have our own gifts, it's not necessary to put precedence to them.

But I have digressed ...

The day or so after the wedding, a merchant from out of town came to the workshop, asking that a bracelet be fashioned out of some purple ore he had purchased on the road. I had never seen its like, and so asked him what it was. He had no idea. He did not know the properties of the ore, only that "it's purple, and isn't it pretty?" For all he knew it could be highly toxic! His total lack of curiosity about its nature and origin astounded me. I told him I could create the bracelet, but only after I ran some tests on the ... metal as I can not work with the unknown. He agreed and handed over a large chunk of dense, oil-slick purple ore. I asked him what the merchant who sold it him looked like he had no idea, nor did his son. The man could only say that he bought it on the road leading into Amber ... the road from Mallory's lands. They left soon after I started asking questions. Not much help at all, and slightly suspicious. It could be that they truly didn't know, or that they simply were avoiding. I suppose I could have dredged it out of their minds. If no further information on the source of the ore becomes apparent, I may just do so when he returns for the bracelet. IF he returns for the bracelet.

The tests run on the ore (refer: Metallurgical log "ferrous bornite") indicate that this is not something commonly found in Amber. Why would anyone be bringing such contraband into Amber? What would they hope to gain? Was the peddler selling only for the money? It is inconceivable that anyone carrying a bag of this material would not understand, at least in part, the nature of what they were carrying.

I did contact Mallory to let him know what was coming out of his lands (supposedly. The merchant had no way of knowing where the peddler came from), and later told him the results of the tests. He now wishes to know if I can set up a way to detect the ore if covered by another metal. I don't see why I can't. A "Like Knows Like" spell is not so hard to do, if one has the time and the ingredients. Time, currently, is the issue.

It is time to open the workshop. I shall continue this some other time.