Roger Zelazny. Trumps of Doom
страница №6
...ite seasons. I should be heartened, uplifted. Insteadatrick of the night, the tag-end of the dream-it seemed for a moment that I
heard the final note of the howling. I shuddered and closed the window. Our
dreams are too much with us.
I hiked down to the designated room and took a seat on one of its
sofas. Random let me get through half a cup of coffee before he said, "Tell
me about the Ghostwheel."
"It's a kind of-paraphysical surveillance device and library."
Random put down his cup and cocked his head to one side.
"Could you be more specific?" he said.
"Well, my work with computers led me to speculate that basic
data-processing principles could: be employed with interesting results in a
place where computer mechanics themselves would not operate," I began. "In
other words, I had to locate a shadow environment where the operations would
remain pretty much invariant but where the physical construct, all of the
peripherals, the programming techniques and the energy inputs would be of a
different nature."
"Uh, Merlin," Random said. "You've lost me already."
"I designed and built a piece of data-processing equipment in a shadow
where no ordinary computer could function," I replied, "because I used
different materials, a radically different design, a different power source.
I also chose a place where different physical laws apply, so that it could
operate along different lines. I was then able to write programs for it
which would not have operated on the shadow Earth where I'd been living. In
doing so, I believe that I created a unique artifact. I called it the
Ghostwheel because of certain aspects of its appearance."
"And it's a surveillance device and a library. What do you mean by
that?"
"It riffles through Shadow like the pages of a book-or a deck of
cards," I said. "Program it for whatever you want checked out and it will
keep an eye on it for you. I was planning it as a surprise. You could, say,
use it to determine whether any of our potential enemies are mobilizing, or
to follow the progress of Shadow-storms, or-"
"Wait a minute," he said, raising a hand. "How? How does it flip
through shadows that way? What makes it work?"
"In effect," I explained, "it creates the equivalent of multitudes of
Trumps in an instant, then-"
"Stop. Back up. How can you write a program for the creation of Trumps?
I thought they could only be done by a person who had an initiate of either
the Pattern or the Logrus." .
"But in this case," I said, "the machine itself is of that same class
of magical objects as Dad's blade, Grayswandir. I incorporated elements of
the Pattern itself into its design."
"And you were going to surprise us with this?"
"Yes, once it's ready."
"When will that be?"
"I'm not sure. It had to gather certain critical amounts of data before
its programs could become fully operational. I set it to do that a while
back, and I haven't had a chance to check on it recently."
Random poured some more coffee, took a drink.
"I don't see where it would save that much in the way of time and
effort," he said a little later. "Say I'm curious about something in Shadow.
I go and investigate, or I send someone. Now, say that instead I want to use
this thing to check it out. I still have to spend the time going to the
place where you keep it."
"No," I told him. "You summon a remote terminal."
"Summon? A terminal?"
"Right." I unearthed my Amber Trumps and dealt myself the one off the
bottom. It showed a silver wheel against a dark background. I passed it to
Random and he studied it.
"How do you use it?" he asked.
"Same as the others. You want to call it to you?"
"You do it," he said. "I want to watch."
"Very well," I answered. "But while I've set it to gathering data
across the shadows it still won't know a whole lot that's useful at this
point."
"I don't want to question it so much as I want to see it."
I raised the card and stared, seeing through it with my mind's eye.
After a few moments, there was contact. I called it to me.
There followed a small crackling sound and a feeling of ionization in
the air as a glowing wheel about eight feet in diameter materialized before
me.
"Diminish terminal size," I ordered.
It shrank down to about a third of what it had been and I ordered it to
halt at that point. It looked like a pale picture frame, occasional sparks
dancing within it, the view across the room constantly rippling as seen
through its center.
Random began to extend a hand.
"Don't," I said. "You might get a shock. I still don't have all the
bugs out."
"It can transmit energy?"
"Well, it could. No big deal."
"If you ordered to transmit energy . . . ?"
"Oh, sure. It has to be able to transmit energy here to sustain the
terminal, and through Shadow to operate its scanners."
"I mean, could it discharge it at this end?"
"If I told it to it could build up a charge and let it go. Yes."
"What are its limits in this?"
"Whatever it has available."
"And what does it have available?"
"Well, in theory an entire planet. But-"
"Supposing you ordered it to appear beside someone here, build up a
large charge and discharge it into that person. Could it do an
electrocution?"
"I guess so," I said. "I don't see why not. But that's not its
purpose-"
"Merlin, your surprise is certainly a surprise. But I'm not sure I like
it."
"It's safe," I explained. "No one knows where it's located. No one goes
there. This Trump I have is the only one. Nobody else can reach it. I was
going to make one more card, just for you, and then show you how to operate
the thing when it was ready."
"I'm going to have to think about this . . ."
"Ghost, within five thousand Shadow veils, this location-how many
Shadow-storms are currently in existence?"
The words camne as if spoken within the hoop: "Seventeen."
"Sounds like-"
"I gave it my voice," I told him. "Ghost, give us some pictures of the
biggest one."
A scene of chaotic fury filled the hoop.
"Another thought just occurred to me," Random stated. "Can it transport
things?"
"Sure, just like a regular Trump."
"Was the original size of that circle its maximum size?"
"No, we could make it a lot larger if you wanted. Or smaller."
"I don't. But supposing you made it larger-and then told it to transmit
that storm, or as much of it as it could manage?"
"Wow! I don't know. It would try. It would probably be like opening a
giant window onto it."
"Merlin, shut it down. It's dangerous."
"Like I said, nobody knows where it is but me, and the only other way
to reach it is-"
"I know, I know. Tell me, could anybody access it with the proper
Trump, or just by finding it?"
"Well, yes. I didn't bother with any security codes because of its
inaccessibility."
"That thing could be an awesome weapon, kid. Shut it down. Now."
"I can't."
"What do you mean?"
"You can't dump its memory or kill its power from a remote terminal. I
would actually have to travel to the site itself to do that:"
"Then I suggest you get going. I want it turned off until there are a
lot more safeguards built into it. Even then -well, we'll see. I don't trust
a power like that. Not when I don't have any defenses against it. It could.
strike almost without warning. What were you thinking of when you built that
thing?"
"Data-processing. Look, we're the only ones-"
"There's always a possibility someone will get wise to it and find a
way to get at it. I know, I know-you're in love with your handiwork-and I
appreciate what you had in mind. But it's got to go."
"I have done nothing to offend you." It was my voice, but it came from
the wheel.
Random stared at it, looked at me, looked back at it.
"Uh-that's not the point," he addressed it. "It's your potential that
I'm concerned about. Merlin, turn off the terminal!"
"End transmission," I said. "Withdraw terminal." It wavered a moment,
then was gone.
"Had you anticipated that comment from the thing?" Random asked me.
"No. I was surprised."
"I'm beginning to dislike surprises. Maybe that shadow environment is
actually altering the thing in subtle ways. You know my wishes. Give it a
rest."
I bowed my head. "Whatever you say, sir."
"Cut it out. Don't be a martyr. Just do it."
"I still think it's just a matter of installing a few safeguards. No
reason to crash the whole project."
"If things were quieter," he said, "maybe I' d go along with it, But
there's too much shit coming down right now, with snipers and bombers and
all the things you've been telling me about. I don't need another worry."
I got to my feet.
"Okay. Thanks for the coffee," I said. "I'll let you know when it's
done."
He nodded.
"Good night, Merlin."
"Good night."
As I was stalking out through the big entrance hall I saw Julian, in a
green dressing gown, talking with two of his men. On the floor between them
lay a large dead animal. I halted and stared. It was one of those same
damned dog things I had just dreamed about, like at Julia's.
I approached.
"Hi, Julian. What is it?" I asked gesturing.
He shook his head.
"Don't know. But the hellhounds just killed three of them in Arden. I
trumped these guys up with one of the carcasses, to show Random. You
wouldn't know where he is, would you?"
I stabbed with my thumb back over my shoulder.
"In the sitting room."
He walked off in that direction. I went nearer and prodded the animal
with my toe. Should I go back and tell Random I'd met one before?
The hell with it, I decided. I couldn't see how the information would
be of any vital use.
I returned to my rooms and washed up and changed my clothes. Then I
stopped by the kitchen and filled my backpack with food. I didn't feel like
saying good-bye to anyone, so I just headed for the back and took the big
rear staircase down into the gardens.
Dark. Starry. Cool. Walking, I felt a sudden chill as I neared the spot
where, in my dream, the dogs had appeared. No howls, no growls. Nothing. I
passed through that
area and continued on my way to the rear of that well-kept site, to the
place where a number of trails led off through a more natural landscape. I
took the second one from the left. It was a slightly longer route than
another I might have chosen-with which it intersected later, anyway-but was
easier going, a thing I felt I needed in the night. I was still not all that
familiar with the irregularities of the other way.
I hiked the crest of Kolvir for the better part of an hour before I
located the downward trail I was seeking. I halted then, took a drink of
water and rested for a few minutes before I began the descent.
It is very difficult to walk in Shadow on Kolvir. One has to put some
distance between oneself and Amber in order to do it properly. So all I
could do at this point was hikewhich was fine with me, because it was a good
night for walking.
I was well on my way down before a glow occurred overhead and the moon
crested a shoulder of Kolvir and poured its light upon my twisting trail. I
increased my pace somewhat after that. I did want to make it off the
mountain by morning.
I was angry with Random for not giving me a chance to justify my work.
I hadn't really been ready to tell him about r it. If it hadn't been for
Caine's funeral I would not have
returned to Amber until I'd had the thing perfected. And I wasn't even
going to mention Ghostwheel this time around, except that it had figured in
a small way in the mystery that had engulfed me and Random had wanted to
know about it
in order to have the whole story. Okay. He didn't like what he'd seen,
but the preview had been premature. Now, if I shut it down as I'd been
ordered I would ruin a lot of work that had been in progress for some time
now. Ghostwheel
was still in a Shadow-scanning, self-education phase. I would have been
checking on it about now, anyway, to see how it was coming along and to
correct any obvious flaws that had crept into the system.
I thought about it as the trail grew steeper and curved on Kolvir's
western face. Random had not exactly ordered me to dump everything it had
accumulated thus far. He' d simply told me to shut it down. Viewed the way I
chose to view it, that meant I could exercise my own judgment as to means. I
decided that gave me leeway to check everything out first, reviewing systems
functions and revising programs until I was satisfied that everything was in
order. Then I could transfer everything to a more permanent status before
shutting it down. Then nothing would be lost; its memory would be intact
when the time came to restore its functions again.
Maybe . . .
What if I did everything to make it shipshape, including throwing in a
few-as I saw it---unnecessary safeguards to make Random happy? Then, I
mused, supposing I got in touch with Random, showed him what I'd done, and
asked him whether he was happy with it that way? If he weren't, I could
always shut it down then. But perhaps he'd reconsider. Worth thinking
about...
I played over imaginary conversations with Random until the moon had
drifted off to my left. I was more than halfway down Kolvir by then and the
going was becoming progressively easier. I could already feel the force of
the Pattern as somewhat diminished.
I halted a couple of more times on the way down, for water and once for
a sandwich. The more I thought about it, the more I felt that Random would
just get angry if I proceeded along the lines I had been thinking and
probably wouldn't even give me a full hearing. On the other hand, I was
angry myself.
But it was a long journey with few shortcuts. I'd have plenty of time
to mull it over.
The sky was growing lighter when I crossed the last rocky slope to
reach the wide trail at the foot of Kolvir to the northwest. I regarded a
stand of trees across the way, one large one a familiar landmark
With a dazzling flash that seemed to sizzle and a bomblike report of
thunder the tree was split, not a hundred meters away. I'd flung up both
hands at the lightning stroke, but I could still hear cracking wood and the
echo of the blast for several seconds afterward.
Then a voice cried out, "Go back!"
I assumed I was the subject of this conversational gambit. "May we talk
this over?" I responded.
There was no reply.
I stretched out in a shallow declivity beside the trail, then crawled
along it for several body lengths to a place where the cover was better. I
was listening and watching the while, hoping that whoever had pulled that
stunt would betray his position in some fashion.
Nothing happened, but for the next half W mute I surveyed the grove and
a portion of the slope down which I had come. From that angle their
proximity gave me a small inspiration.
I summoned the image of the Logrus, and two of its lines became my
arms. I reached then, not through Shadow but up the slope to where a fairly
good-sized rock was poised above a mass of others.
Seizing hold, I drew upon it. It was too heavy to topple easily, so I
began rocking it. Slowly, at first. Finally, I got it to the tipping point
and it tumbled. It fell among the others and a small cascade began. I
withdrew further as they struck and sent new ones bouncing. Several big ones
bean to roll. A fracture line gave way when they fell upon its edge at a
steeper place. An entire sheet of stone groaned and cracked, began to slide.
I could feel the vibration as I continued my withdrawal. I had not
anticipated setting off anything this spectacular. The rocks bounced, slid
and flew into the grove. I watched the trees sway, saw some of them go down.
I heard the crunching, the pinging, the breaking.
I gave it an extra half minute after what seemed its end. There was
much dust in the air and half of the grove was down. Then I rose to my feet,
Frakir dangling from my left hand, and I advanced upon the grove.
I searched carefully, but there was no one there. I climbed upon the
trunk of a fallen tree.
"I repeat, do you care to talk about it?" I called out. No answer.
"Okay, be that way," I said, and I headed north into Arden.
x x x
I heard the sound of horses occasionally as I hiked through that
ancient forest. If I was being followed, though, the horsemen showed no
interest in closing with me. Most likely, I was passing in the vicinity of
one of Julian's patrols.
Not that it mattered. I soon located a trail and began the small
adjustments that bore me farther and farther from them.
A lighter shade, from brown to yellow, and slightly shorter trees . . .
Fewer breaks in the leafy canopy . . . Odd bird note, strange mushroom . . .
Little by little, the character of the wood was altered. And the
shifting grew easier and easier the farther this took me from Amber.
I began to pass sunny clearings. The sky grew a paler blue . . . The
trees were all green now, but most of them saplings . . .
I broke into a jog.
Masses of clouds came into view, the spongy earth grew firmer, drier .
. .
I stepped up my pace, heading downhill. Grasses were more abundant. The
trees were divided into clusters now, islands in a waving sea of those pale
grasses. My view took in a greater distance. A flapping, beaded curtain off
to my right: rain.
Rumbles of thunder came to me, though sunlight continued to light my
way. I breathed deeply of the clean damp air and ran on.
The grasses fell away, ground fissured, sky blackened . . . Waters
rushed through canyons and arroyos all about me . . . Torrents poured from
overhead onto the rocking terrain . . .
I began slipping. I cursed each time I picked myself up, for my
overeagerness in the shifting.
The clouds parted like a theater curtain, to where a lemon sun poured
warmth and light from a salmon-colored sky. The thunder halted in mid-rumble
and a wind rose . . .
I made my way up a hillside, looked down upon a ruined gage.
Long-abandoned, partly overgrown, strange mounds lined its broken main
street.
I passed through it beneath a slate-colored sky, picked my way slowly
across an icy pond, faces of those frozen beneath me staring sightlessly in
all directions . . .
The sky was soot-streaked, the snow hard-packed, my breath feathery as
I entered the skeletal wood where frozen birds perched: an etching.
Slipping downhill, rolling, sliding into melting and spring . . .
Movement again; about me . . . Mucky ground and clumps of green . . .
Strange cars on distant highway . . .
A junkyard, smelling, oozing, rusting, smoldering . . . Threading my
way amid acres of heaps . . . Rats scurrying...
Away . . . Shifting faster, breathing harder . . . Skyline beneath smog
cap . . . Delta bottom . . . Seashore . . . Golden pylons along the road . .
. Countryside with lakes . . . Brown grasses beneath green sky . . .
Slowing . . . Rolling grassland, river and lake . . . Slowing . . .
Breeze and grass, sealike . . . Mopping my brow on my sleeve . . . Sucking
air . . . Walking now . . .
I moved through the field at a normal pace, preferring to do my resting
in a congenial spot such as this, where I could see for a good distance. The
wind made soft noises as it passed among the' grasses. The nearest lake was
a deep lime color. Something in the air smelled sweet.
I thought I saw a brief flash of light off to my right, but when I
looked that way there was nothing unusual to be seen. A little later, I was
certain that I heard a distant sound of hoofbeats. But again, I saw nothing.
That's the trouble with shadows-you don't always know what's natural there;
you're never certain what to look for.
Several minutes passed, and then I smelled it before I saw anything.
Smoke. The next instant there was a rush of fire. A long line of flame
cut across my path.
And again the voice: "I told you to go back!"
The wind was behind the fire, pushing it toward me. I turned to head
away and saw that it was already flanking me. It takes a while to build up
the proper mental set for shadow-shifting, and I had let mine go. I doubted
I could set it up again in time.
I began running.
The line of flame was curving about me, as if to describe a huge
circle. I did not pause to admire the precision of the thing, however, as I
could feel the heat by then and the smoke was getting thicker.
Above the fire's crackling it seemed that I could still hear the
drumming of hoofs. My eyes were beginning to water, though, and streams of
smoke further diminished my vision. And again, I detected no sign of the
person who had sprung the trap.
Yet-definitely-the ground was shaking with the rapid progress of a
hooved creature headed in my direction. The flames flashed higher, drew
nearer as the circle coshed toward closure.
I was wondering what new menace was approaching, when a horse and rider
burst into view through the gap in the fiery wall. The rider drew back the
reins, but the horsea chestnut-was not too happy at the nearness of the
flames it bared its teeth, biting at the bit, and tried several times to
rear.
"Hurry! Behind me!" the rider cried, and I rushed to mount.
The rider was a dark-haired woman. I caught only a glimpse of her
features. She managed to turn the horse back in the direction from which she
had come, and she shook the reins. The chestnut started forward, and
suddenly it reared. I managed to hang on.
When its front hooves struck the ground, the beast wheeled and tore off
toward the light. It was almost into the flames when it wheeled again.
"Damn!" I heard the rider say, as she worked almost frantically with
the reins.
The horse turned again, neighing loudly. Bloody spittle dripped from
its mouth. And by then the circle was closed, the smoke was heavy and the
flames very near. I was in no position to help, beyond giving it a pair of
sharp kicks in the flanks when it began moving in a straight line again.
It plunged into the flames to our left, almost screaming as it went. I
had no idea how wide the band of fire was at that point. I could feel a
searing along my legs, though, and I smelled burning hair.
Then the beast was roaring again, the rider was screaming back at it,
and I found that I could no longer hold on. I felt myself sliding backward
just as we broke through the ring of fire and into a charred, smoldering
area where the flames had already passed. I fell amid hot black clumps;
ashes rose about me. I rolled frantically to my left, and I coughed and
squeezed my eyes shut against the cloud of ashes that assailed my face.
I heard the woman scream and I scrambled to my feet, rubbing my eyes.
My vision came clear in time for me to see the chestnut rising from where he
had apparently fallen atop his rider. The horse immediately tore off, to be
lost among clouds of smoke. The woman lay very still and I rushed to her
side. Kneeling, I brushed sparks from her clothing and checked for breathing
and a pulse. Her eyes opened while I was doing this.
"Back's-broken I think," she said, coughing. "Don't feel-much. . . .
Escape-if you can. . . . Leave me. I'll die-anyway."
"No way," I said. "But I've got to move you. There's a lake nearby, if
I remember right."
I removed my cloak where it was tied about my waist and I spread it out
beside her. I inched her onto it as carefully as I could, folded it over her
to protect her against the flames and began dragging her in what I hoped was
the proper direction.
We made it through a shifting patchwork of fire and smoke. My throat
was raw, my eyes watering steadily and my trousers on fire when I took a big
step backward and felt my heel squish downward into mud. I kept going.
Finally, I was waist deep in the water and supporting her there. I
leaned forward, pushed a flap of the cloak back from her face. Her eyes were
still open, but they looked unfocused and there was no movement. Before I
could feel for a carotid pulse, however, she made a hissing noise, then she
spoke my name.
"Merlin," she said hoarsely, "I'm-sorry-"
"You helped me and I couldn't help you," I said. "I'm sorry."
"Sorry I didn't last-longer," she continued. "No good-with horses.
They're-following you."
"Who?" I asked.
"Called off - the dogs, though. But the - fire - is someone - else's.
Don't know - whose."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
I splashed a little water onto her cheeks to cool them. Between the
soot and her singed, disheveled hair it was difficult to judge her
appearance.
"Someone-behind-you," she said, her voice growing fainter.
"Someone-ahead-too. Didn't-know-about that one. Sorry."
"Who?" I asked again. "And who are you? How do you know me? Why-"
She smiled faintly. ". . . Sleep with you. Can't now. Going . . ."
Her eyes closed.
"No!" I cried.
Her face contorted and she sucked in a final breath. She expelled it
then, using it to form the whispered words.
"Just-let me-sink here. G'bye . . ."
A cloud of smoke blew across her face. I held my breath and shut my
eyes as a larger billow followed, engulfing us. When the air finally cleared
again, I studied her. Her breathing had ceased and there was no pulse, no
heartbeat. There was no nonburning, nonmarshy area available for even an
attempt at CPR. She was gone. She'd known she was going.
I wrapped my cloak about her carefully, turning it into a shroud. Last
of all, I folded a flap over her face. I fixed everything into place with
the clasp I'd used to close it at my neck when I'd worn it. Then I waded out
into deeper water.
"Just let me sink here." Sometimes the dead sink quickly, sometimes
they float . . .
"Good-bye, lady," I said. "Wish I knew your name. Thanks again."
I released my hold upon her. The waters swirled. She was gone. After a
time, I looked away then moved away. Too many questions and no answers.
Somewhere, a maddened horse was screaming . . .
CHAPTER 9
Several hours and many shadows later I rested again, in a place with a
clear sky and not much tinder about. I bathed in a shallow stream and
afterward summoned fresh clothing out of Shadow. Clean and dry then, I
rested on the bank and made myself a meal.
It seemed as if every day were now an April 30. It seemed as if
everyone I met knew me, and as if everyone were playing an elaborate
double-game. People were dying all about me and disasters were becoming a
common occurrence. I was beginning to feel like a figure in a video game.
What would be next? I wondered. A meteor shower?
There had to be a key. The nameless lady who had given her life to pull
me out of the fire had said that someone was following me and that there was
someone ahead of me, also. What did that mean? Should I wait for my pursuer
to catch up and simply ask him, her, or it what the hell was going on? Or
should I push on fast, hopefully catch the other party and make inquiry
there? Would either give me the same answer? Or were there two different
answers involved? Would a duel satisfy someone's honor? I'd fight it, then.
Or a bribe.
I'd pay it. All I wanted was an answer followed by a little peace and
quiet. I chuckled. That sounded like a description of death-though I wasn't
that sure about the answer part.
"Shit!" I commented, to no one in particular, and I tossed a stone into
the stream.
I got to my feet and crossed the water. Written in the sand on its
opposite shore were the words GO BACK. I stepped on them and broke into a
run.
The world spun about me as I touched the shadows. Vegetation fell away.
The rocks grew into boulders, lightening, taking on a sparkle . .
I ran through a valley of prisms beneath an awesome purple sky . . .
Wind among rainbow stones, singing, Aeolian music . . .
Garments lashed by gales . . . Purple to lavender above . . . Sharp
cries within the strains of sound . . . Earth cracking...
Faster. I am giant. Same landscape; infinitesimal now . . . Cyclopean,
I grind the glowing stones beneath my feet . . . Dust of rainbows upon my
boots, puffs of cloud about my shoutders . . .
Atmosphere thickening, thickening; almost to liquid, and green . . .
Swirling . . . Slow motion, my best efforts . . . Swimming in it . . .
Castles fit for aquaria drift by . . . y: Bright missiles like fireflies
assail me . . . I feel nothing . . .
Green to blue . . . Thinning, thinning . . . Blue smoke and air like
incense . . . The reverberation of a million invisible gongs, incessant .
.-. I clench my teeth.
Faster. Blue to pink, spark-shot . . . A catlick of fire . . . Another
. . . Heatless flames dance like sea plants : . . Higher, rising higher . .
. Walls of fire buckle and crackle . . .
Footfalls at my back.
Don't look. Shift.
Sky split down the middle, by sun a comet streaking . . . Here and gone
. . . Again: Again. Three days in as many heartbeats . . . I breathe the air
spicy . . . Swirl the fires, descend to purple earth . . . Prism in the sky
. . . I race the course of a glowing river across a field of fungus color of
blood, spongy . . . Spores that turn to jewels, fall like bullets . . .
Night on a plain of brass, footfalls echoing to eternity . . . Knobbed
machinelike plants clanking, metal flowers retracting back to metal stalks,
stalks to consoles . . . Clank, clank, sigh . . . Echoes only, at my back?
I spin once.
Was that a dark figure ducking behind a windmill tree? Or only the
dance of shadows in my shadow-shifting eyes? Forward. Through glass and
sandpaper, orange ice, landscape of pale flesh . . .
There is no sun, only pale light . . . There is no earth . . . Only
thin bridges and islands in the air . . . The world is crystal matrix . . .
Up, down, around . : . Through a hole in the air and down a chute . . .
Sliding . . . To a cobalt beach beside a still copper sea . . .
Twilight without stars . . . Faint glow everywhere . . . Dead, dead this
place . . . Blue rocks . . . Broken statues of inhuman beings . . . Nothing
stirring . . .
Stop. I drew a magic circle about me in the sand and invested it with
the forces of Chaos. I spread my new cloak then at its center, stretched out
and went to sleep. I dreamed that the waters rose up to wash away a portion
of the circle, and that a green, scaly being with purple hair and sharp
teeth crept out of the sea and came to me to drink my blood.
When I awoke, I saw that the circle was broken and a green, scaly being
with purple hair and sharp teeth lay dead upon the beach a half dozen yards
from me, Frakir knotted tightly about its throat and the sand disturbed all
around. I must have slept very deeply.
I retrieved my strangling cord and crossed another bridge over
infinity.
On the next leg of my journey I was nearly caught up
in a flash flood the first time I paused to rest. I was no longer
unwary, however, and I kept ahead of it long enough to shift away. I
received another warning-in burning letters on the face of an obsidian
mountain-suggesting I withdraw, retire, go home. My shouted invitation to a
conference was ignored.
I traveled till it was time to sleep again, and I camped then in the
Blackened Lands-still, gray, musty, and foggy. I found myself an easily
defended cleft, warded it against magic and slept.
Later-how much later, I am uncertain I was awakened from a dreamless
slumber by the pulsing of Frakir
upon my wrist. y I was instantly awake, and then I wondered why. I
heard
nothing and I saw nothing untoward within my limited field of vision.
But Frakir-who is not 100 percent perfect always has a reason when she does
give an alarm. I waited, and I recalled my image of the Logrus while I did
so. When it was fully before me I fitted my hand within it as if it were a
glove and I reached . . .
I seldom carry a blade above the length of a middle-sized dagger. It's
too damned cumbersome having several feet of steel hanging at my side,
bumping into me, catching onto bushes, and occasionally even tripping me up.
My father, and most of the others in Amber and the Courts, swear by the
heavy, awkward things, but they are probably made of sterner stuff than
myself. I've nothing against them in principle. I love fencing, and I've had
a lot of training in their use. I just find carrying one all the time to be
a nuisance. The belt even rubs a raw place on my hip after a while.
Normally, I prefer Frakir and improvisation. However . . .
This, I was willing to admit, might be a good time to be holding one.
For now I heard bellowslike hissing sounds and scrambling noises from
somewhere outside and to my left.
I extended through Shadow, seeking a blade. I extended, I extended . .
.
Damn. I had come far from any metalworking culture of the appropriate
anatomy and at the proper phase in its historical development.
I continued to reach, sweat suddenly beading my brow. Far, very far.
And the sounds came nearer, louder, faster. There came rattling,. stamping
and spitting noises. A roar. Contact!
I felt the haft of the weapon in my hand. Seize and summon! I called it
to me, and I was thrown against the wall by the force of its delivery. I
hung there a moment before I could draw it from the sheath in which it was
still encased. In that moment, things grew silent outside.
I waited ten seconds. Fifteen. Half a minute . . . Nothing now.
I wiped my palms on my trousers. I continued to listen. Finally, I
advanced.
There was nothing immediately before the opening save a light fog, and
as the peripheral lines of sight opened there was still nothing to behold.
Another step . . . No.
Another. I was right at the threshold now. I leaned forward and darted
a quick glance in either direction.
Yes. There was something off to the left-dark, low, unmoving, half
masked by the fog. Crouched? Ready to spring at me?
Whatever it was, it did not stir and it kept total silence. I did the
same. After a time, I noticed another dark form of the same general outline
beyond it-and possibly a third even farther away. None of them showed any
inclination to raise the sort of hell I had ' been listening to but minutes
before.
I continued my vigil.
Several minutes must have passed before I stepped outside. Nothing was
roused by my movement. I took another step and waited. Then another.
Finally, moving slowly, I approached the first form. An ugly brute,
covered with scales the color of dried blood. A couple of hundred pounds'
worth of creature, long and sinuous . . . Nasty teeth, too, I noted, when I
opened its mouth with the point of my weapon. I knew it was safe to do this,
because its head was almost completely severed from the rest of it. A very
clean cut. A yellow-orange liquid still flowed from the wound.
And I could see from where I stood that the other two forms were
creatures of the same sort. In all ways. They were dead, too. The second one
I examined had been run through several times and was missing one leg. The
third had been hacked to pieces. All of them oozed, and they smelled faintly
of cloves.
I inspected the well-trampled area. Mixed in with that strange blood
and the dew were what seemed to be the partial impressions of a boot,
human-scale. I sought farther and I came across one intact footprint. It was
pointed back in the direction from which I had come.
My pursuer? S, perhaps? The one who had called off the dogs? Coming to
my aid?
I shook my head. I was tired of looking for sense where there wasn't
any. I continued to search, but there were no more full tracks. I returned
to the cleft then and picked up my blade's sheathe. I fitted the weapon into
it and hung it from my belt. I fastened it over my shoulders so that it hung
down my back. The hilt would protrude just above my backpack once I'd
shouldered that item. I couldn't see how I could jog with it at my side.
I ate some bread and the rest of the meat. Drank some water, too, and a
mouthful of wine. I resumed my journey.
I ran much of the next day - though "day" is something of a misnomer
beneath unchanging stippled skies, checkered skies, skies lit by perpetual
pinwheels and fountains of light. I ran until I was tired, and I rested and
ate and ran some more. I rationed my food, for I'd a feeling I'd have to
send far for more and such an act places its own energy demands upon the
body. I eschewed shortcuts, for flashy shadows spanning hellruns also have
their price and I did not want to be all whacked out when I arrived. I
checked behind me often. Usually, I saw nothing suspicious. Occasionally,
though, I thought that I glimpsed distant pursuit. Other explanations were
possible, however; considering some of the tricks the shadows can play.
I ran until I knew that.I was finally nearing my destination. There
came no new disaster followed by an order to turn back. I wondered
fleetingly whether this was a -good sign, or if the worst were yet to come.
Either way, I knew that one more sleep and a little more journeying would
put me where I wanted to be. Add a little caution and a few precautions and
there might even be reason for optimism.
I ran through a vast, forestlike stand of crystalline shapes. Whether
they were truly living things or represented some geological phenomenon; I
did not know. They distorted perspectives and made shifting difficult.
However, I saw no signs of living things in that glossy, glassy place, which
led me to consider making my final campsite there.
I brake off a number of the limbs and drove them into the pink ground,
which had the consistency of partly set putty. I constructed a circular
palisade standing to about shoulder-height, myself at its center. I unwound
Frakir from my wrist then voiced the necessary instructions as I paced her
atop my rough and shining wall.
Frakir elongated, stretching herself as thin as a thread and twining
among the shardlike branches. I felt safe. I did not believe anything could
cross that barrier without Frakir's springing loose and twining herself to
deathly tightness about it.
I spread my cloak, lay down, and slept. For how long, I am not certain.
And I recall no dreams. There were no disturbances either.
When I woke I moved my head to reorient it, but the view was the same.
In every direction but down the view was filled with interwoven crystal
branches. I climbed slowly to my feet and pressed against them. Solid. They
had become a glass cage.
Although I was able to break off some lesser branches, these were
mainly from overhead, and it did nothing to work my release. Those which I
had planted initially had thickened considerably, having apparently rooted
themselves solidly. They would not yield to my strongest kicks.
The damned thing infuriated me. I swung my blade and glassy chips flew
all about. I muffled my face with my cloak then and swung several times
more. Then I noticed that my hand felt wet. When I looked at it, I saw that
it was running with blood. Some of those splinters were very sharp. I
desisted with the blade and returned to kicking at my enclosure. The walls
creaked occasionally aid made chiming noises, but they held.
I am not normally claustrophobic and my life was not in imminent peril,
but something about this shining prison annoyed me out of all proportion to
the situation itself. I raged for perhaps ten minutes before I forced myself
to sufficient calmness that I might think clearly.
I studied the tangle until I discerned the uniform color and texture of
Frakir running through it. I placed my fingertips upon her and spoke an
order. Her brightness increased. and she ran through the spectrum and
settled into a red glow The first creaking sound occurred a few seconds
later.
I quickly withdrew to the center of the enclosure and wrapped myself
fully in my cloak. If I crouched, I decided; some of the overhead pieces
would fall a greater distance, striking me with more force. So I stood
upright, protecting my head and neck with my arms and hands as well as with
the cloak.
The creaking sounds became cracking sounds, followed by rattling,
snapping, breaking. I was suddenly struck across the shoulder, but I
maintained my footing.
Ringing and crunching, the edifice began to fall about me. I held my
ground, though I was struck several times more.
When the sounds ceased and I looked again I saw that the roof had been
removed, and I stood calf deep amid fallen branches of the hard, corallike
material. Several of the side members had splintered off at near to ground
level. Others now stood at unnatural angles, and this time a few wellplaced
kicks brought them down.
My cloak was torn in a number of places, and Frakir coiled now about my
left ankle and began to migrate to my wrist. 'The stuff crunched underfoot
as I departed.
I shook out my cloak and brushed myself off. I traveled for perhaps
half an hour then, leaving the place far behind me, before I halted and took
my breakfast in a hot, bleak valley smelling faintly of sulfur.
As I was finishing, I heard a crashing noise. A horned and tusked
purple thing went racing along the ridge to my right pursued by a hairless
orange-skinned creature with long claws and a forked tail. Both were wailing
in different keys.
I nodded. It was just one damned thing after another.
I made my way through frozen lands and burning lands, under skies both
wild and placid. Then at last, hours later, I saw the low range of dark
hills, and aurora streaming upward from behind them. That was it. I needed
but approach and pass through and I would see my goal beyond the last and
most difficult barrier of all.
I moved ahead. It would be good to finish this job and get on with more
important matters. I would trump back to Amber when I was finished there,
rather than retracing my steps. I could not have trumped in to my
destination, though, because the place could not be represented on a card.
In that I was jogging, I first thought that the vibrations were my own.
I was disabused of this notion when small pebbles began to roll aimlessly
about the ground before me. Why not?
I'd been hit with just about everything else. It was as if my strange
nemesis were working down through a checklist and had just now come to
"Earthquake." All right. At least there was nothing high near at hand to
fall on me.
"Enjoy yourself, you son of a bitch!" I called out. "One day real soon
it won't be so funny!"
As if in response the shaking grew more violent, and I had to halt or
be thrown from my feet. As I watched; the ground began to subside in places,
tilt in still others. I looked about quickly, trying to decide whether to
advance, retreat, or stay put. Small fissures had begun to open, and now I
could hear a growling, grinding sound.
The earth dropped abruptly beneath me-perhaps six inches-and the
nearest crevices widened. I turned and began sprinting back the way I had
come. The ground seemed less disturbed there.
A mistake perhaps. A particularly violent tremor followed, knocking me
from my feet. Before I could rise a large crack appeared within reaching
distance. It continued to widen even as I watched. I sprang to my feet,
leapt across it, stumbled, rose again, and beheld another opening
riftwidening more rapidly than the one I had been fleeing.
I sprang once more, onto a tilting tabletop of land. The ground seemed
torn everywhere now with the dark lightning strokes of rifts, heaving
themselves open widely to the accompaniment of awful groans and screechings.
Big sections of ground slipped from sight into abysses. My small island was
already going.
I leaped again, and again, trying to make it over to what appeared to
be a more stable area.
I didn't quite manage it. I missed my footing and fell. But I managed
to catch hold of the edge. I dangled a moment then and began to draw myself
upward. The edge began to crumble. I clawed at it and caught a fresh hold.
Then I dangled again, coughing and cursing.
I sought for footholds in the. clayey wall against which I -hung. It
yielded somewhat beneath the thrusting of my boots and I dug in, blinking
dirt from my eyes, trying for
a firmer hold overhead. I could feel Frakir loosening, tightening into
a small loop, one end free and flowing over my knuckles, hopefully to locate
something sufficiently firmset to serve as an anchor.
But no. My lefthand hold gave way again. I clung with my right and
groped for another. Loose earth fell about me .as I failed, and my right
hand was beginning to slip.
Dark shadow above me, through dust and swimming eyes.
My right hand fell loose. I thrust with my legs for another try.
My right wrist was clasped as it sped upward and forward once again. A
big hand with a powerful grip held me. Moments later, it was joined by
another and I was drawn upward, quickly, smoothly. I was over the edge and
seeking my footing in an instant. My wrist was released. I wiped my eyes.
"Luke!"
He was dressed in green, and blades must not have bothered him the way
they do me, for a good-sized one hung at his right side. He seemed to be
using a rolled cloak for a backpack, and he wore its clasp like a decoration
upon his left breast-an elaborate thing, a golden bird of some son.
"This way," he said, turning, and I followed him.
He led me a course back and to the left, tangent to the route I had
taken on entering the valley. The footing grew steadier as we hurried that
way, mounting at last a low hill that seemed completely out of range in the
disturbance. Here we paused to look back.
"Come no farther!" a great voice boomed from that direction.
"Thanks, Luke," I panted. "I don't know how you're here or why but-"
He raised a hand.
"Right now I just want to know one thing," he said, rubbing at a short
beard he seemed to have grown in an amazingly brief time, and causing me to
note that he was wearing the ring with the blue stone.
"Name it," I told him.
"How come whatever it was that just spoke has your voice?" he asked.
"Uh-oh. I knew it sounded familiar."
"Come on!" he said. "You must know. Every time you're threatened and it
warns you back it's your voice that I hear doing it-echolike."
"How long have you been following me, anyhow?"
"Quite a distance."
"Those dead creatures outside the cleft where I' d camped-'
"I took them out for you. Where are you going, and what is that thing?"
"Right now I have only suspicions as to exactly what's going on, and
it's a long story. But the answer should lie beyond that next range of
hills."
I gestured toward the aurora.
He stared off in that direction, then nodded.
"Let's get going," he said.
"There is an earthquake in progress," I observed,. . .
"It seems pretty much confined to this valley," he stated. "We can cut
around it and proceed."
"And quite possibly encounter its continuance."
He shook his head.
"It seems to me," he said, "that whatever it is that's trying to bar
your way exhausts itself after each effort and takes quite a while to
recover sufficiently to make another attempt."
"But the attempts are getting closer together," I noted, "and more
spectacular each time."
"Is it because we're getting closer to their source?" he asked.
"Possibly."
"Then let's hurry."
We descended the far side of the hill, then went up and down another.
The tremors, by that time, had already subsided to an occasional shuddering
of the ground and shortly these, too, ceased.
We made our way into and along another valley, which for a while headed
us far to the right of our goal, then curved gently back in the proper
direction, toward the final range of barren hills, lights flickering beyond
them against the low, unmoving base of a cloudlike line of white under a
mauve to violet sky. No fresh perils were presented.
"Luke," I asked after a time, "what happened on the mountain, that
night in New Mexico?"
"I had to go away - fast," he answered.
"What about Dan Martinez's body?"
"Took it with me."
"Why?"
"I don't like leaving evidence lying about."
"That doesn't really explain much."
"I know," he said, and he broke into a jog. I paced him.
"And you know who I am," I continued.
"Yes."
"How?"
"Not now," he said. "Not now."
He increased his pace. I matched it. "And why were you following me?"
"I saved your ass, didn't I?"
"Yeah, and I'm grateful. But it still doesn't answer the question."
"Race you to that leaning stone," he said, and he put on a burst of
speed.
I did, too, and I caught him. Try as I could I couldn't pass him,
though. And we were breathing too hard by then to ask or answer questions.
I pushed myself, ran faster. He did, too, keeping up. The leaning stone
was still a good distance off. We stayed side by side and I saved my reserve
for the final sprint. It was crazy, but I'd run against him too.many times.
It was almost a matter of habit by now. That, and the old curiosity. Had he
gotten a little faster? Had I? Or a little slower?
My arms pumped, my feet thudded. I got control of my breathing,
ma
