The cleanup begins.  What the earthquake did not touch, the tidal
wave seems to have cleaned up.  The coastal area of the city has been
washed away.  I do not care about any of this.

	Mother is safe, thanks purely to instinct.  The townhouse is
waterlogged, but little else is damaged; it will recover.  The castle
still stands.  The recovery effort has begun, with royal, noble, and
commoner all cooperating to try and bring things back to normal.  Disaster
has, perhaps, brought about a common good.  I have no taste for
significant participation in this process.

	The Pattern and Trump have recovered from their weakened state.
We have a new batch of relatives from Avalon, home of the true Pattern.
Our once-trusted allies have turned their back on us, and in particular
our absent king and his escort, deciding to strike now that they have seen
an advantage.  Of this I take note, but only distantly.

	My dearest Mebd is gone from this world, never to come back.  I
could reconstitute an image of her, a hollow monster, but what would be
the point?  I should regret, mourn, but feel little.

	Caitt has been trying her best to comfort me, to ease me through a
situation she has no understanding of.  To pass the time, she is teaching
me of the magical ways of the Faerie.  She is the only person in Amber who
truly knows her abilities and limitations.  She is also the only person
not of my blood who cares about me in the least.  I wish I could return
that affection, but, for now, I cannot.

	For the majority of my three selves, my world has been
obliterated.  No amount of control, of arguing, of distraction can
overcome that.  All of our hopes, schemes, and plans are hereby ended.
All of our friends, enemies, acquaintances, contacts, and servants are no
more.  Every place we knew; that of our birth, our childhood, our
adventures, our rest, are gone.  Those things that frightened us most are
as vapor.  Those that gave us our greatest joy shall do so no more.  How
can we replace the emptiness we feel?  What value are our thoughts, our
memories?  We are truly miserable, for our world has perished.

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