Birdie of the Tower

Birdie

She had been called Birdie so long she barely remembered the name her mother gave her.

She sits in the window of her little garret looking out over the vast eastern ocean of Amber. Her tower room is tiny, one of four on the floor of the small tower attached to the east side of the Castle Amber. The other three had long since been abandoned. No one would live on the floor with her. Nor the two below or the tiny attic room above. But to her they were bliss.

As she looked out at the stars and the moon above Amber she remembered her childhood. In Tazilwere there are two moons and few stars. If she needed a reason to be reminded that she was on another world she need just look out her window.

A gray cat climbs up into her lap a moment before a brown one was going to claim the spot of pride. He licks his paw as if he had not been about to leap.

Above her on the window sill she sees the trio of colorful song birds from Diaga. Flora once adored them and when she comes to sit for tea she remembers them with special seeds from across shadow. They show up to serenade her in gratitude for their lives. But in their hearts they belong to Birdie.

Across the tiny chamber is a long large bed. Its magnificent engraved posts and boards are so out of place in this tiny garret but she loves it. That once a Queen of Amber and the King of the Multiverse had slept in it, and had done so for several hundred years, is often forgotten by its current owner. It was a gift from a king who often forgot the servants in the great castle but to whom he was gracious in person when he remembered.

Sitting on the end of the bed, in their corner, is a pair of ancient mastiffs that had rode to war a thousand times beside their master. Often Birdie thinks the the reason she got the fine bed was when Great Oberon replaced his dogs and his queen, he replaced the bed and gave the bed to the room the mastiffs most often went to sleep. She had slept on a soldier's cot in those days.

She remembered the day the bed was brought. The maids made it up as they always had, as they still do, as if the bed itself was the lady of the chamber. The two great dogs slept in their corner given them by their master when he remembered to summon them to bed. Usually they slept under her cot.

When she went to sleep in her cot that night the two dogs growled angrily. She moved to a corner in case they had turned on her but instead they attacked the cot, rending it to shards and shreds, then calmly climbed to their corner, looking to her and waiting. They laid their silver tipped teeth down once she climbed under the covers. There they slept ever since.

Now she slept in the bed a queen bore two princes and a princess in.

She looked up at the canopy. A dozen birds and several cats lay up on it. She laughs at how all her friends have learned not to foul this room. Otherwise it might be too much for the maids. She was raised sleeping in a barn so the smells never bothered her. Still, it was polite of them to mess elsewhere. She giggled at a memory when she had asked her friends to foul the office of the Chief Librian of Amber when he issued a writ refusing servants use of the library except on one day a week. Margot had stood toe to toe with the old coot when he demanded to know why all the cats were pooping in his office. She said she couldn't guess. Of course, she didn't need to. She calmly told him to allow the staff to read as they always had. He did and the cats stopped annoying him with their piles.

The birds on the canopy this night looked to be two of the pigeons Brand once loved. Several of the sparrows that once followed Flora. Two of the parakeets were Caine's. Though most of Caine's birds now lived on various ships of the line these two adored her now.

The cats among the fowl were a tabby of Julian's and its mate, a black and green, that was once Fiona's. The only times the ancient pair left the room was to visit Margot for meals and sit in the Sea View gardens in the evenings. They could have eaten in the floor two below their resting place as the others did but that would not have been proper for the pair that had considered themselves king and queen of the castle until Prince Arloxedra arrived with his companion Cat. That day they rolled and showed their belly along with the other cats of the Castle Amber.

She walks down stairs leaving a disgruntled cat in the window. On the 13th floor of this small tower she goes about arranging the plates as the animals come from all places throughout the castle to eat. They know she will summon food 4 times a day and they have learned not to crowd each other. They know Dame Margot and others feed them as well but they like Birdie the best.

Cats first, then the dogs. Clarissa's three powder-puffs in brown, yellow, and green. The maidservant Meleisa's two tabilin dachshunds. The puffs had outlived Clarissa's regain and the dachshunds had outlived their mistress.

Then the others. The black pig long since freed of the fear of becoming bacon. The goat that once followed Eric around. Birdie remembered how Corwin had trained it wearing Eric's clothes and leaving Eric's sweaty gambison in its cage till the Goat loved the smell of him. Then the New Years gift to the merriment of all except for the oh so serious Eric. The goat followed him till Eric threatened to rend him down. Birdie had defied the dread prince at the fear of her own life but the prince just shrugged,. After that the goat followed her and gave its milk to her.

She looked into the the turtle land; a wide shelf at shoulder height that circled the room. In it the heat stones warmed the sands and rocks that lizards and turtles and snakes lived among.

“And who are you?” She reaches to a unfamiliar snake as it slithers out from a collection of hot rocks to curl on her arm.

“Oh? Really? I have not met her yet. Oh, I'm sure she is lovely if she adores such a fine friend as you.. You are welcome here anytime Cicero.” She takes a chair and spends a pleasant hour cherishing her new friend during the week his companion is off doing two leg things. The pair sleep for a time.

Dawn is coming she thinks as the bare hue of night changes at the farthest lengths of the sea. She must wash and visit the stables or else the horses will be wroth with her. Slipping her new friend to the turtle land she grabs her shawl and starts her day.

Next Day

Here's the refined and expanded version of the story, integrating the chest, its placement, and the tiger’s arrival.

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She had been called Birdie so long she barely remembered the name her mother gave her.

She sat in the window of her little garret, looking out over the vast eastern ocean of Amber. Her tower room was small, one of four on this floor of a lesser-used tower on the east side of Castle Amber. The other three chambers had long since been abandoned. No one wished to live on the same floor as her, nor on the two floors below, nor in the attic chamber above. But to her, the solitude was bliss.

Her window gave her a view unlike the one from her childhood. In Tazilwere, there were two moons and few stars. In Amber, there was a single, bright moon and an endless cascade of stars. If she ever needed a reminder that she was on another world, all she had to do was look out her window.

A gray cat climbed onto her lap just as a brown one was about to claim the spot. The gray licked its paw as if it had never intended to leap at all, feigning nonchalance.

Above her, perched on the window sill, the trio of colorful songbirds from Diaga chirped softly. Flora had once adored them, and whenever she came for tea, she brought them special seeds from distant shadows. Though they serenaded her in gratitude, in their hearts, they belonged to Birdie.

The chamber itself was a curious mix of modesty and grandeur. Across the small room stood a grand, oversized bed, its rich engravings and towering posts seeming wholly out of place in such a tiny space. It had once belonged to a Queen of Amber and the King of the Multiverse. For centuries, it had served as their marital bed, the place where a queen bore two princes and a princess. Its current owner, however, rarely thought of this. She had been given the bed long ago, a gift from a king who seldom remembered his servants but was gracious when he did.

Lying in their designated corner, watching her with knowing eyes, were the two ancient mastiffs that had once ridden to war a thousand times beside their master. When Great Oberon replaced his dogs and his queen, he also replaced his bed—passing the old one to the room where his mastiffs most often slept. In those days, Birdie had only a soldier's cot.

She remembered the day the bed had been brought in. The maids had made it up as they always had, treating it with the reverence due a noble lady’s chamber. The mastiffs had taken their place in their familiar corner. That night, when she attempted to sleep in her cot, the two great hounds growled menacingly. Alarmed, she had stepped back, fearing they had turned on her. Instead, they had torn the cot to pieces, then climbed into their own corner of the room and watched her expectantly. Only when she cautiously slipped under the covers of the grand bed did they lower their silver-tipped heads and sleep.

There were other oddities in the chamber. On one wall sat an old wooden chest, about three feet long, two feet tall, and one foot wide. It was heavy, locked with sturdy brass padlocks on either side, and had never been moved except for cleanings. It had been brought by Oberon himself, who had asked her if he could leave it there. She had agreed without question, and she had never once considered opening it. It was his, not hers.

Above the bed’s canopy, birds and cats lay nestled in comfort. The canopy’s fabric remained miraculously clean—her friends were polite enough to relieve themselves elsewhere. She chuckled, recalling the one time she had asked them to foul the office of the Chief Librarian when he had banned the servants from the library except for one day a week. Dame Margot had stood toe-to-toe with the old man when he demanded to know why all the cats were leaving gifts in his study. “I couldn’t guess,” she had said, though she didn’t need to. She had calmly informed him that the staff should be allowed to read as they always had. He had relented, and the cats had ceased their mischief.

At the foot of the bed, on the floor, rested two ancient cats: a regal tabby once belonging to Julian and a sleek black-and-green feline that had been Fiona’s. They rarely left the chamber except to take their meals with Dame Margot and to lounge in the Sea View gardens in the evenings. They, like the others, had once thought themselves rulers of the castle—until Prince Arloxedra arrived with his companion Cat. That day, they had rolled onto their backs like all the other castle cats, acknowledging the newcomer’s dominance.

Birdie rose and descended the winding stairwell, leaving a disgruntled cat in the window. On the 13th floor of the small tower, she set out plates. Animals filtered in from all corners of the castle, each knowing that Birdie would summon food four times a day. Though Dame Margot and others fed them as well, they liked Birdie best.

The feeding followed an order. Cats first. Then the dogs—Clarissa’s three powder-puffs in brown, yellow, and green, followed by the two dachshunds that had once belonged to a long-departed maidservant. Then the others: the black pig who no longer feared becoming bacon, the goat that had once followed Eric around, the lizards, the turtles, the birds.

It was then that a new guest emerged. A long, sinuous snake slithered out from the warm rocks of the turtle land and coiled around her arm.

“Oh? Really? I have not met her yet. Oh, I’m sure she is lovely if she adores such a fine friend as you.” Birdie stroked the snake’s smooth scales. “You are welcome here anytime, Cicero.”

The two spent a peaceful hour together, the snake curled in her lap, Birdie dozing lightly as the first hues of dawn touched the sea.

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• • A Different Day**

It was near dusk when Birdie sensed the presence outside her door.

When she opened it, she found herself staring into golden eyes. A tiger—a massive, regal beast with deep orange fur and bold black stripes—stood in the dim hallway, its tail flicking. Despite its size, there was no menace in its gaze.

Birdie met many animals, but few looked at her with the eyes of an equal.

The tiger dipped its head in greeting. "You are Birdie," it rumbled, its voice rich and deep.

She nodded, unperturbed. "And you are unexpected."

The great beast chuckled, stepping past her into the chamber. The other animals, sensing its presence, watched but did not flee. The mastiffs rose, their ears twitching, but they did not bare their teeth.

“I serve Princess Anastasia of Regor,” the tiger said. “But I wished to meet you.”

The tiger circled once before settling beside her. The mastiffs lay down near him, their great heads resting on their paws. The birds, emboldened, returned to their perches, and the cats resumed their lounging spots.

Birdie moved to the corner, where a large harp stood. Its frame was old, but the strings sang true. She plucked a note, then another, letting the melody rise.

The animals listened, their breathing steady, their eyes half-closed in contentment.

The tiger, his voice softer now, spoke again. “I think I shall visit often.”

Birdie smiled and continued to play.

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The Chest in Birdie's Room