Roger Zelazny. Blood of Amber
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...orearm-to which the fandonis attached, elbow and wrist-horizontal, and executing a slow circular
movement with it. Its three-foot length of filmy mesh, mord-weighted at the
bottom, glittered in the balefire glow, which occurred at random intervals
from many directions. He held his trisp in middle attack position, and he
showed his teeth but was not smiling as I moved and he moved at opposite
ends of the diameter of a ten-foot circle which we described over and over,
looking for an opening.
I tilted the plane of my orbit and he adjusted his own immediately to
keep me company. I did it again, and so did he. Then I did the dive-90
degrees forward, fandon raised and extended-and I turned my wrist and
dropped my elbow, angling my raking cut upward beneath his guard.
He cursed and cut, but I scattered his light, and three dark lines
appeared upon his left thigh. The trisliver only cuts to a depth of about
three quarters of an inch through flesh, which is why the throat, eyes,
temples, inner wrists and femoral arteries are particularly favored targets
in a serious encounter. Still, enough cuts anywhere and you eventually wave
goodbye to your opponent as he spins downward in a swarm of red bubbles into
that place from whence no traveler returns.
"Blood!" Mandor cried, as the beads formed upon Jurt's leg and drifted.
"Is there satisfaction, gentlemen?"
"I'm satisfied," I answered.
"I'm not!" Jurt replied, fuming to face me as I drifted to his left and
rotated to my right. "Ask me again after I've cut his throat!"
Jurt had hated me from sometime before he had learned to walk, for
reasons entirely his own. While I did not hate Jurt, liking him was totally
beyond my ability. I had always gotten along reasonably well with Despil,
though he tended to take Jurt's side more often than my own. But that was
understandable. They were full brothers, and Jurt was the baby.
Jurt's trisp flashed and I broke the light and riposted. He scattered
my beams and spun off to the side. I followed. Our trisps flared
simultaneously, and the air between us was filled with flakes of brilliance
as both attacks were shattered. I struck again, this time low, as soon as I
had recharge. His came in high, and again both attacks died in f and. We
drifted nearer.
"Jurt," I said, "if either of us kills the other, the survivor will be
outcast. Call it off."
"It will be worth it," he said. "Don't you think I've thought about
it?" Then he slashed an attack at my face. I raised both arms reflexively,
fandon and trisp, and triggered an attack as shattered light showered before
me. I heard him scream.
When I lowered my fandon to eye level I saw that he was bent forward,
and his trisp was drifting away. So was his left ear, trailing a red
filament that quickly beaded itself and broke apart. A flap of scalp had
also come loose, and he was trying to press it back into place.
Mandor and Despil were already spiraling in.
"We declare the duel ended!" they were shouting, and I twisted the head
of my trisp into a safety-lock position.
"How bad is it?" Despil asked me.
"I don't know."
Jurt let him close enough to check, and a little later Despil said,
"He'll be all right. But Mother is going to be mad."
I nodded. "It was his idea," I said.
"I know. Come on. Let's get out of here."
He helped Jurt steer toward an outcropping of the Rim, fandon trailing
like a broken wing. I lingered behind. Sawall's son Mandor, my stepbrother,
put his hand on my shoulder.
"You didn't even mean him that much," he said. "I know."
I nodded and bit my lip. Despil had been right about the Lady Dara, our
mother, though. She favored Jurt, and somehow he'd have her believing this
whole thing was my fault. I sometimes felt she liked both of her sons by
Sawall, the old Rim Duke she'd finally married after giving up on Dad,
better than me. I'd once overheard it said that I reminded her of my father,
whom I'd been told I resembled more than a little. I wondered again about
Amber and about other places, out in Shadow, and felt my customary twinge of
fear as this recalled to me the writhing Logrus, which I knew to be my
ticket to other lands. I knew that I was going to try it sooner than I had
originally intended.
"Let's go see Suhuy," I said to Mandor, as we rose up out of the Abyss
together. "There are more things I want to ask him."
When I finally went off to college I did not spend a lot of time
writing home.
". . . home," Vinta was saying, "pretty soon now. Have a drink of
water," and she passed me a flask.
I took several long swallows and handed it back. "Thanks."
I stretched my cramped muscles and breathed the cold sea air. I looked
for the moon and it was way back behind my shoulder.
"You were really out," she said.
"Do I talk in my sleep?"
"No"
"Good."
"Bad dreams?"
I shrugged. "Could be worse."
"Maybe you made a little noise, right before I woke you."
"Oh."
Far ahead I saw a small Iight at the end of a dark promontory. She
gestured toward it.
"When we've passed the point," she said, "we will come into sight of
the harbor at Baylesport. We'll find breakfast there, and horses."
"How far is it from Arbor House?"
"About a league," she replied. "An easy ride."
She stayed by me in silence for a while, watching the coastline and the
sea. It was the first time we had simply sat together, my hands unoccupied
and my mind free. And my sorcerer's sense was stirred in that interval. I
felt as if I were in the presence of magic. Not some simple spell or the
aura of some charmed object she might be bearing, but something very subtle.
I summoned my vision and turned it upon her. There was nothing immediately
obvious, but prudence suggested I check further. I extended my inquiry
through the Logrus. . . .
"Please don't do that;' she said.
I had just committed a faux pas. It is generally considered somewhat
gauche to probe a fellow practitioner in such a fashion.
"I'm sorry," I said. "I didn't realize you were a student of the Art."
"I am not," she answered, "but I am sensitive to its operations."
"ln that case, you would probably make a good one."
"My interests lie elsewhere," she said.
"I thought perhaps someone had laid a spell upon you," I stated. "I was
only trying to-"
"Whatever you saw," she said, "belongs. Let it be."
"As you would. Sorry."
She must have known I couldn't let it rest at that, though, when
unknown magic represents possible danger. So she went on, "It is nothing
that can do you harm, I assure you. Quite the contrary."
I waited, but she did not have anything further to say on the matter.
So I had to let it drop, for the moment. I shifted my gaze back to the
lighthouse. What was I getting into with her, anyhow? How had she even known
that I was back in town, let alone that I would visit Death Alley when I
did? She must have known that the question would occur to me, and if there
was to be good faith on both our parts she should be willing to explain it.
I turned back toward her, and she was smiling again.
"The wind changes in the lee of the light," she said, and she rose.
"Excuse me. I've work to do."
"May I give you a hand?"
"In a bit. I'll call you when I need you."
I watched her move away, and as I did I had the eerie feeling that she
was watching me also, no matter where she was looking. I realized, too, that
this feeling had been with me for some time, like the sea.
By the time we had docked and put everything in order and headed up a
hill along a wide cobbled way toward an inn with smoke snaking from its
chimney, the sky was growing pale in the east. After a hearty breakfast,
morning's light lay full upon the world. We walked then to a livery stable
where three quiet mounts were obtained for the ride to her father's estate:
It was one of those clear crisp autumn days which become rarer and
dearer as the year winds down. I finally felt somewhat rested, and the inn
had had coffee-which is not that common in Amber, outside the palace -and I
enjoy my morning cup. It was good to move through the countryside at a
leisurely pace and to smell the land, to watch the moisture fade from
sparkling fields and turning leaves, to feel the wind, to hear and watch a
flock of birds southbound for the Isles of the Sun. We rode in silence, and
nothing happened to break my mood. Memories of sorrow, betrayal, suffering
and violence are strong but they do fade, whereas interludes such as this,
when I close my eyes and regard the calendar of my days, somehow outlast
them, as I see myself riding with Vinta Bayle under morning skies where the
houses and fences are stone and stray seabirds call, there in the wine
country to the east of Amber, and the scythe of Time has no power in this
corner of the heart.
When we arrived at Arbor House we gave the horses into the care of
Bayle's grooms, who would see to their eventual return to town. Drew
departed for his own quarters then, and I walked with Vinta to the huge
hilltop manor house. It commanded far views of rocky valleys and hillsides
where the grapes were grown. A great number of dogs approached and tried to
be friendly as we made our way to the house, and once we had entered their
voices still reached us on occasion. Wood and wrought iron, gray flagged
floors, high beamed ceilings, clerestory windows, family portraits, a couple
of small tapestries of salmon, brown, ivory and blue, a collection of old
weapons showing a few touches of oxidation, soot smudges on the gray stone
about the hearth. . . . We passed through the big front hall and up a stair.
"Take this room," she said, opening a darkwood door, and I nodded as I
entered and looked about. It was spacious, with big windows looking out over
the valley to the south. Most of the servants were at the Baron's place in
town for the season. "There is a bath in the next room," she told me,
indicating a door to my left.
"Great. Thanks. Just what I need."
"So repair yourself as you would." She crossed to the window and looked
downward. "I'll meet you on that terrace in about an hour, if that is
agreeable."
I went over and looked down upon a large flagged area, well shaded by
ancient trees-their leaves now yellow, red and brown, many of them dotting
the patio - the place bordered by flower beds, vacant now, a number of
tables and chairs arranged upon it, a collection of potted shrubs well
disposed among them.
"Fine."
She turned toward me. "Is there anything special you would like?"
"If there is any coffee about, I wouldn't mind another cup or two when
I meet you out there."
"I'll see what I can do."
She smiled and seemed to sway slightly toward me for a moment. It
almost seemed in that instant as if she wanted me to embrace her. But if she
did not, it could be slightly awkward. And under the circumstances I wanted
no familiarity with her anyway, having no idea as to the sort of game she
was playing. So I returned her smile, reached out and squeezed her arm,
said, "Thank you," and stepped away. "I guess I'll see about that bath now."
I saw her to the door and let her out.
It was good to get my boots off. It was Ear better to soak, fox a long,
warm time.
Later, in fresh-conjured attire, I made my way downstairs and located a
side door that let of the kitchen onto the patio. Vinta, also scrubbed and
refitted, in brown riding pants and a loose tan blouse, sat beside a table
at the east end of the patio. Two places were set upon it, and I saw a
coffeepot and a tray of fruit and cheeses. I crossed over, leaves crunching
beneath my feet, and sat down.
"Did you find everything to your satisfaction?" she asked me.
"Entirely," I replied.
"And you've notified Amber of your whereabouts?"
I nodded. Random had been a bit irritated at my taking off without
letting him know, but then he had never told me not to. He was less
irritated, however, when he Teamed that I hadn't gone all that far, and he
even acknowledged finally that perhaps I had done a prudent thing in
disappearing following such a peculiar attack. "Keep your eyes open and keep
me posted," were his final words.
"Good. Coffee?"
"Please."
She poured and gestured toward the tray. I took an apple and took a
bite.
"Things have begun happening," she said ambiguously, as she filled her
own cup.
"I can't deny it," I acknowledged.
"And your troubles have been manifold."
"True."
She took a sip of coffee. "Would you care to tell me about them?" she
finally said.
"They're a little too manifold," I replied. "You said something last
night about your story being a long one, too."
She smiled faintly. "You must feel you have no reason to trust me more
than necessary at this point," she said. "I can see that. Why trust anyone
you don't have to when something dangerous is afoot, something you do not
completely understand? Right?"
"It does strike me as a sound policy."
"Yet I assure you that your welfare is of the highest concern to me."
"Do you think I may represent a means of getting at Caine's killer?"
"Yes," she said, "and insofar as they may become your killers I would
like to get at them."
"Are you trying to tell me that revenge is not your main objective?"
"That's right. I would rather protect the living than avenge the dead."
"But that part becomes academic if it's the same individual in both
cases. Do you think it is?"
"I am not certain," she said, "that it was Luke who sent those men
after you last night."
I placed my apple beside my cup and took a long drink of coffee.
"Luke?" I said.
"Luke who? What do you know of any Luke?"
"Lucas Raynard," she said steadily, "who trained a band of mercenaries
in the Pecos Wilderness in northern New Mexico, issued them supplies of a
special ammunition that will detonate in Amber, and sent them all home with
it to await his orders to muster and be transported here-to attempt
something your father once tried years ago."
"Holy shit!" I said.
That would explain a lot - like Luke's showing up in fatigues back at
the Hilton in Santa Fe, with his story about liking to hike around in the
Pecos, with that round of peculiar ammunition I'd found in his pocket; and
all the other trips he'd been making there-more, actually, than seemed
absolutely necessary on his sales route. . . . That angle had never occurred
to me, but it made a lot of sense in light of everything I'd since Teamed.
"Okay," I acknowledged, "I guess you know Luke Raynard. Mind telling me
how you came by this?"
"Yes."
"Yes?
"Yes, I mind. I'm afraid I'm going to have to play this game your way
and trade you information a piece at a time. Now that I think of it, it will
probably make me feel more comfortable too. How does that sound to you?"
"Either one of us can call it quits at any time?"
"Which stops the trading, unless we can negotiate it."
"All right."
"So you owe me one. You just returned to Amber the other day. Where had
you been?"
I sighed and took another bite of the apple. "You're fishing;" I said
finally. "That's a big question. I've been to a lot of places. It all
depends on how far back you want to go."
"Let's take it from Meg Devlin's apartment to yesterday," she said.
I choked on a piece of apple. "Okay, you've made the point-you have
some damn good sources of information;" I observed. "But it has to be Fiona
for that one. You're in league with her some way, aren't you?"
"It's not your turn for a question," she said. "You haven't answered
mine yet."
"Okay, Fi and I came back to Amber after I left Meg's place. The next
day Random sent me on a mission, to turn off a machine I'd built called
Ghostwheel. I failed in this but I ran into Luke along the way. He actually
helped me out of a tight spot. Then, following a misunderstanding with my
creation, I used a strange Trump to take both Luke and myself to safety.
Luke subsequently imprisoned me in a crystal cave-"
"Aha!" she said.
"I should stop there?"
"No, go on."
"I was a prisoner for a month or so, though it amounted to only a few
days, Amber time. I was released by a couple of fellows working for a lady
named Jasra, had an altercation with them and with the lady herself and
trumped out to San Francisco, to Flora's place. There, I revisited an
apartment where a murder had occurred-"
"Julia's place?"
"Yes. In it, I discovered a magical gateway which I was able to force
open. I passed through it to a place called the Keep of the Four Worlds. A
battle was in progress there, the attackers probably being led by a fellow
named Dalt, of some small notoriety hereabouts at one time. Later, I was
pursued by a magical whirlwind and called names by a masked wizard. I
trumped out and came home-yesterday."
"And that's everything?"
"In capsule form, yes."
"Are you leaving out anything?"
"Sure. For instance, there was a Dweller on the threshold of the
gateway, but I was able to get by."
"No, that's part of the package. Anything else?"
"Mm. Yes, there were two peculiar communications, ending in flowers."
"Tell me about them."
So I did.
She shook her head when I'd finished. "You've got me there," she said.
I finished my coffee and the apple. She refilled my cup.
"Now it's my turn," I said. "What did you mean by that `Aha!' when I
mentioned the crystal cave?"
"It was blue crystal, wasn't it? And it blocked your powers."
"How'd you know?"
"It was the color of the stone in the ring you took from that man last
night."
"Yes."
She got to her feet and moved around the table, stood a moment, then
pointed to the vicinity of my left hip.
"Would you empty that pocket onto the table, please?"
I smiled. "Sure. How'd you know?"
She didn't answer that one, but then it was a different question. I
removed the assortment of blue stones from my pocket-the chips from the
cave, the carved button I'd snatcheр, the ring-and placed them upon the
table.
She picked up the button, studied it, then nodded.
"Yes, that's one also;" she stated.
"One what?"
She ignored the query and dipped her right forefinger into a bit of
spilled coffee within her saucer. She then used it to trace three circles
around the massed stones, widdershins.Then she nodded again and returned to
her seat. I'd summoned the vision in time to see her build a cage of force
about them. Now, as I continued to watch, it seemed as if they were exhaling
faint wisps of blue smoke that remained within the circle.
"I thought you said you weren't a sorcerer."
"I'm not," she replied.
"I'll save the question. But continue answering the last one. What is
the significance of the blue stones?"
"They have an affinity for the cave, and for each other," she told me.
"A person with very little training could hold one of them and simply begin
walking, following the slight psychic tugging. It would eventually lead him
to the cave."
"Through Shadow, you mean?"
"Yes."
"Intriguing, but I fail to see any great value to it."
"But that is not all. Ignore the pull of the cave, and you will become
aware of secondary tuggings. Learn to distinguish the signature of the
proper stone, and you can follow its bearer anywhere."
"That does sound a little more useful. Do you think that's how those
guys found me last night, because I had a pocket full of the things?"
"Probably, from a practical standpoint, they helped. Actually, though,
in your case, they should not even have lien necessary at this point."
"Why not?"
"They have an additional effect. Anyone who has one in his possession
for a time becomes attuned to the thing. Throw it away and the attunement
remains. You can still be tracked then, just as if you had retained the
stone. You would possess a signature of your own."
"You mean that even now, without them, I'm marked?"
"Yes."
"How long does it take to wear off?"
"I am not certain that it ever does."
"There must be some means of deattunement."
"I do not know for certain, but I can think of a couple of things that
would probably do it."
"Name them."
"Walking the Pattern of Amber or negotiating the Logrus of Chaos. They
seem almost to break a person apart and do a reassemblement into a purer
form. They have been known to purge many strange conditions. As I recall, it
was the Pattern that restored your father's memory."
"Yes-and I won't even ask you how you know about the Logrus you may
well be right. As with so much else in life, it seems enough of a pain in
the ass to be good for me. So, you think they could be zeroing in on me
right now, with or without the stones?"
"Yes."
"How do you know all this?" I asked.
"I can sense it - and that's an extra question. But I'll give you a
free one in the interests of expedition."
"Thanks. I guess it's your turn now."
"Julia was seeing an occultist named Victor Melman before she died. Do
you know why?"
"She was studying with him, looking for some sort of development-at
least, that's what I was told by a guy who knew her at the time. This was
after we broke up."
"That is not exactly what I meant," she said. "Do you know why she
desired this development?"
"Sounds like an extra question to me, but maybe I owe you one. The
fellow I'd spoken with told me that I had scared her, that I'd given her to
believe that I possessed unusual abilities, and that she was looking for
some of her own in self-defense."
"Finish it," she said.
"What do you mean?"
"That's not a complete answer. Did you actually give her cause to
believe that and to be afraid of you?"
"Well,I guess I did. Now my question: How could you possibly know
anything about Julia in the first place?"
"I was there," she answered. "I knew her."
"Go ahead."
"That's it. Now it's my turn."
"That's hardly complete."
"But it's all you're getting on that one. Take it or leave it."
"According to our agreement I can call it quits over that."
"True. Will you?"
"What do you want to know next?"
"Did Julia develop the abilities she sought?"
"I told you that we'd stopped seeing each other before she got involved
in that sort of thing. So I have no way of knowing."
"You located the portal in her apartment from which the beast that slew
her had presumably emerged. Two questions now-not for you to answer for me,
just for you to think over: Why would anyone want her dead in the first
place? And does it not seem a very peculiar way to have gone about it? I can
think of a lot simpler ways of disposing of a person."
"You're right," I agreed. "A weapon is a hell of a lot easier to manage
than magic any day. As for why, I can only speculate. I had assumed it was a
trap for me, and that she had been sacrificed as part of the package-my
annual April thirtieth present. Do you know about them, too?"
"Let's save that business for later. You are obviously aware that
sorcerers have styles, the same as painters, writers, musicians. When you
succeeded in locating that gateway in Julia's apartment, was there anything
about it which we might refer to as the author's signature?"
"Nothing special that I can recall. Of course, I was in a hung to force
it. I wasn't there to admire the aesthetics of the thing. But no, I can't
associate it with anyone with whose work I am familiar. What are you getting
at?"
"I just wondered whether it were possible that she might have developed
some abilities of her own along these lines, and in the course of things
opened that gateway herself and suffered those consequences."
"Preposterous!"
"All right. I am just trying to turn up some reasons. I take it then
that you never saw any indication that she might possess latent abilities
for sorcery?"
"No, I can't recall any instances."
I finished my coffee, poured a refill.
"If you don't think Luke is after me now, why not?" I asked her then.
"He set up some apparent accidents for you, years ago."
"Yes. He admitted that recently. He also told me that he quit doing it
after the first few times."
"That is correct."
"You know, it's maddening-not knowing what you know and what you do
not."
"That is why we're talking, isn't it? It was your idea to go about it
this way."
"It was not! You suggested this trade-off!"
"This morning, yes. But the idea was originally yours, some time ago. I
am thinking of a certain telephone conversation, at Mr. Roth's place-"
"You? That disguised voice on the phone? How could that be?"
"Would you rather hear about that or about Luke?"
"That! No, Luke! Both, damn it!"
"So it would seem there is a certain wisdom in keeping to the format
we've agreed upon. There is much to be said for orderliness."
"Okay, you've made another point. Go on about Luke."
"It seemed to me, as an observer, that he quit that business as soon as
he got to know you better."
"You mean back about the time we became friendly-that wasn't just an
act?"
"I couldn't tell for sure then- and he certainly countenanced the years
of attacks on you-but I believe that he actually sabotaged some of them."
"Who was behind them after he quit?"
"A red-haired lady with whom he seemed to be associated."
"Jasra?"
"Yes, that was her name-and I still don't know as much about her as I'd
like to. Do you have anything there?"
"I think I'll save that for a big one," I said.
For the first time, she directed a narrow-eyed, teeth-clenched
expression toward me.
"Can't you see that I'm trying to help you, Merlin?"
"Really, what I see is that you want information I have," I said, "and
that's okay. I'm willing to deal because you seem to know things I want,
too. But I've got to admit that your reasons are murky to me. How the hell
did you get to Berkeley? What were you doing calling me at Bill's place?
What is this power of yours you say isn't sorcery? How-"
"That's three questions," she said, "and the beginning of a fourth.
Would you prefer to write them all out, and have me do the same for
you? Then we can both go off to our rooms and decide which ones we want to
answer?"
"No," I replied. "I'm willing to play the game. But you are aware of my
reason for wanting to know these things. It's a matter of self-preservation
to me. I thought at first that you wanted information that would help you to
nail the man who killed Caine. But you said no, and you didn't give me
anything to put in its place."
"I did, too! I want to protect you!"
"I appreciate the sentiment. But why? When it comes down to it, you
hardly know me."
"Nevertheless, that is my reason and I don't feel like going behind it.
Take it or leave it."
I got to my feet and began pacing the patio. I didn't like the thought
of giving away information that could be vital to my security, and
ultimately that of Amber-though I had to admit I was getting a pretty good
return for what I'd given. Her stuff did sound right. For that matter, the
Bayles had a long history of loyalty to the Crown, for whatever that was
worth. The thing that bothered me the most, I decided, was her insistence
that it was not actually revenge that she was after. Apart from this being a
very un-Amberlike attitude, if she were any judge at all as to what would go
over with me she need but have agreed that blood was what she wanted, in
order to make her concern intelligible. I would have bought it without
looking any further. And what did she offer in its place? Airy nothings and
classified motives. . . .
Which could well mean she was telling the truth. Disdaining the use of
a workable lie and offering something more cumbersome in its place would
seem the mark of genuine honesty. And she did, apparently, have more answers
that I wanted
I heard a small rattling sound from the table. I thought at first that
she might be drumming on it with her fingertips as a sign of her irritation
with me. But when I glanced back I saw that she was sitting perfectly still,
not even looking at me.
I drew nearer, seeking the source. The ring, the pieces of blue stone
and even the button were jiggling about on the tabletop, as of their own
accord.
"Something you're doing?" I asked
"No," she replied.
The stone in the ring cracked and fell out of its setting.
"What, then?"
"I broke a link," she said. "I believe something may be trying to
reestablish it and failing."
"Even so, if I'm still attuned they don't need them in order to locate
me, do they?"
"There may be more than one party involved," she observed. "I think I
should have a servant ride back to town and throw the things into the ocean.
If someone wishes to follow them there, fine."
"The chips should just lead back to the cave, and the ring to the dead
man," I said. "But I'm not ready to throw the button away."
"Why not? It represents a big unknown."
"Exactly. But these things would have to work both ways, wouldn't they?
That would mean that I could learn to use the button to find my way to the
flower thrower."
"That could be dangerous."
"And not doing it could prove more dangerous in the long run. No, you
can throw the rest of them into the sea, but not the button."
"All right. I'll keep it pent for you."
"Thanks. Jasra is Luke's mother."
"You're joking!"
"Nope."
"That explains why he didn't lean on her directly about the later April
thirtieths. Fascinating! It opens up a whole new lane of speculation."
"Care to share them?"
"Later, later. In the meantime, I'll take care of these stones right
now." She scooped them all out of the circle and they seemed, for a moment,
to dance in her hand. She stood.
"Uh-the button?" I said.
"Yes."
She put the button into her pocket and kept the others in her hand.
"You're going to get attuned yourself if you keep the button that way,
aren't you?"
"No," she said, "I won't."
"Why not?"
"There's a reason. Excuse me while I find a container for the others,
and someone to transport them."
"Won't that person get attuned?"
"It takes a while."
"Oh."
"Have some more coffee-or something."
She turned and left. I ate a piece of cheese. I tried to figure out
whether I'd gotten more answers or more new questions during the course of
our conversation. I tried to ht some of the new pieces into the old puzzle.
"Father?"
I turned, to see who had spoken. There was no one in sight.
"Down here."
A coin-sized disk of light lay within a nearby flower bed, otherwise
empty save for a few dry stalks and leaves. The light caught my attention
when it moved slightly.
"Ghost?" I asked.
"Uh-huh," came the reply from among the leaves. "I was waiting to catch
you when you were alone. I'm not sure I trust that woman."
"Why not?"
"She doesn't scan right, like other people. I don't know what it is.
But that's not what I wanted to talk to you about."
"What, then?"
"Uh-well, did you mean what you said about not really intending to turn
me off?"
"Jeez! After all the sacrifices I made for you! Your education and
everything. . . . And lugging all your damn components out to a place like
that where you'd be safe! How can you ask me that?"
"Well,I heard Random tell you to do it "
"You don't do everything you're told either, do you? Especially when it
comes to assaulting me when I just wanted to check out a few programs? I
deserve a little more respect than that!"
"Uh-yeah. Look, I'm sorry."
"You ought to be. I went through a lot of crap because of you."
"I looked for you for several days, and I couldn't find you."
"Crystal caves are no fun."
"I don't have much time now. . . ." The light flickered, faded almost
to the point of vanishing, returned to full brilliance. "Will you tell me
something fast?"
"Shoot."
"That fellow who was with you when you came out this way-and when you
left-the big red-haired man?"
"Luke. Yes?"
The light grew dimmer again.
"Is it okay to trust him?" Ghost's voice came faintly, weakly.
"No!" I shouted. "That would be damn stupid!"
Ghost was gone, and I couldn't tell whether he'd heard my answer.
"What's the matter?" Vinta's voice, from above me.
"Argument with my imaginary playmate," I called out.
Even from that distance I could see the expression of puzzlement on her
face. She sought in all directions about the patio and then, apparently
persuading herself that I was indeed alone, she nodded.
"Oh," she said. Then, "I'll be along in a little while."
"No hurry," I answered.
Where shall wisdom be found, and where is the place of understanding?
If I knew, I'd walk over and stand there. As it was, I felt as if I stood in
the midst of a large map, surrounded by vague areas wherein were penned the
visages of particularly nasty-looking random variables. A perfect place for
a soliloquy, if one had anything to say.
I went back inside to use the john. All that coffee.
6
Well, maybe.
With Julia, I mean.
I sat alone in my room, thinking by candlelight.
Vinta had stirred a few sunkcn memories to the surface.
It was later on, when we weren't seeing much of each other. . . .
I'd met Julia first in a Computer Science course I was taking. We'd
started seeing each other occasionally, just coffee after class and like
that, at first. Then more and more frequently, and pretty soon it was
serious.
Now it was ending as it had started, a little more each time. . . .
I felt her hand on my shoulder as I was leaving the supermarket with a
bag of groceries. I knew it was her and I turned and there was no one there.
Seconds later, she hailed me from across the parking lot. I went over and
said hello, asked her if she were still working at the software place where
she'd been. She said that she wasn't. I recalled that she was wearing a
small silver pentagram on a chain about her neck. It could easily-,and more
likely should-have been hanging down inside her blouse. But of course I
wouldn't have seen it then, and her body language indicated that she wanted
me to see it. So I ignored it while we exchanged a few generalities, and she
turned me down on dinner and a movie, though I asked after several nights.
"What are you doing now?" I inquired.
"I'm studying a lot."
"What?"
"Oh, just-different things. I'll surprise you one of these days."
Again, I didn't bite, though an over-friendly Irish setter approached
us about then. She placed her hand on its head and said, "Sit!" and it did.
It became still as a statue at her side, and remained when we left later.
For all I know, there's a dog skeleton still crouched there, near the cart
return area, like a piece of modern sculpture.
It didn't really seem that important at the time. But in retrospect, I
wondered. . . .
We had ridden that day, Vinta and I. Seeing my growing exasperation of
the morning, she must have felt a break was in order. She was right.
Following a light lunch, when she made the suggestion that we take a ride
about the estate, I agreed readily. I had wanted a little more time in which
to think before continuing our cross-examination and discourse game. And the
weather was good, the countryside attractive.
We made our way along a curling hail through arbors, which led at
length into the northern hills from where we were afforded long views across
the rugged and cross-hatched land down to the sun-filled sea. The sky was
full of winds and wisps of cloud, passing birds. . . . Vinta seemed to have
no special destination in mind, which was all right with me. As we rode, I
recalled a visit to a Napa Valley winery, and the next time we drew rein to
rest the horses I asked her, "Do you bottle the wine here at the estate? Or
is that done in town? Or in Amber?"
"I don't know," she said.
"I thought you grew up here."
"I never paid attention."
I bit back a remark about patrician attitudes. Unless she were joking,
I couldn't see how she'd fail to know something like that.
She caught my expression, though, and added immediately, "We've done it
various ways at various times. I've been living in town for several years
now. I'm not sure where the principal bottling has been done recently."
Nice save, because I couldn't fault it. I hadn't intended my question
as any sort of trap, but I felt as if I had just touched on something.
Possibly from the fact that she didn't let it go at that. She went on to say
that they shipped large casks all over the place and often sold them in that
fashion. On the other hand, there were smaller customers who wanted the
product bottled. . . . I stopped listening after a time. On the one hand, I
could see it, coming horn a vintner's daughter. On the other, it was all
stuff I could have made up myself on the spot. There was no way for me to
check on any of it. I got the feeling that she was trying to snow me, to
cover something. But I couldn't figure what.
"Thanks," I said when she paused for breath, and she gave me a strange
look but took the hint and did not continue.
"You have to speak English," I said in that language, "if the things
you told me earlier are true."
"Everything I told you is true," she replied, in unaccented English.
"Where'd you learn it?"
"On the shadow Earth where you went to school."
"Would you care to tell me what you were doing there?"
"I was on a special mission."
"For your father? For the Crown?"
"I'd rather not answer you at all than lie to you."
"I appreciate that. Of course, I must speculate."
She shrugged.
"You said you were in Berkeley?" I asked.
A hesitation, then, "Yes."
"I don't remember ever seeing you around."
Another shrug. I wanted to grab her and shake her. Instead, I said,
"You knew about Meg Devlin. You said you were in New York-"
"I believe you're getting ahead of me on questions."
"I didn't know we were playing the game again. I thought we were just
talking."
"All right, then: Yes."
"Tell me one more thing and perhaps I can help you."
She smiled. "I don't need any help. You're the one with problems:"
"May I, anyway?"
"Go ahead and ask. Every time you question me you tell me things I wish
to know."
"You knew about Luke's mercenaries. Did you visit New Mexico, too?"
"Yes, I've been there."
"Thanks," I said.
"That's all?"
"'That's all."
"You've come to some conclusion?"
"Perhaps."
"Care to tell me what it is?"
I smiled and shook my head.
I left it at that. A few oblique queries on her part as we rode on led
me to believe that I had her wondering what I might have guessed or suddenly
seen. Good. I was determined to let it smolder. I needed something to
balance her reticence on those points about which I was most curious, to
lead hopefully to a full trade of information. Besides, I had reached a
peculiar conclusion concerning her. It was not complete, but if it were
correct I would require the rest of the answer sooner or later. So it was
not exactly as if I were setting up a bluff.
The afternoon was golden, orange, yellow, red about us, with an
autumn-damp smell behind the cool nips of the breezes. The sky was very
blue, like certain stones. . . .
Perhaps ten minutes later I asked her a more neutral question. "Could
you show me the road to Amber?"
"You don't know it?"
I shook my head. "I've never been this way before. All I know is that
there are overland routes coming through here that lead to the Eastern
Gate."
"Yes," she said. "A bit farther to the north, I believe. Let's go find
it."
She headed back to a road we had followed for a time earlier and we
turned right on it, which seemed logical. I did not remark on her vagueness,
though I expected a comment from her before too long in that I had not
elaborated on my plans and I'd a feeling she was hoping that I would.
Perhaps three quarters of a mile later we came to a crossroads. There
was a low stone marker at the far left corner giving the distance to Amber,
the distance back to Baylesport, the distance to Baylecrest in the east and
to a place called Murn, straight ahead.
"What's Murn?" I asked.
"A little dairy village."
No way I could check that, without traveling six leagues.
"You plan on riding back to Amber?" she asked.
"Yes."
"Why not just use a Trump?"
"I want to get to know the area better. It's my home. I like it here."
"But I explained to you about the danger. The stones have marked you.
You can be tracked."
"That doesn't mean I will be tracked. I doubt that whoever sent the
ones I met last night would even be aware this soon that they'd found me and
failed. They'd still be lurking about if I hadn't decided to go out for
dinner. I'm sure I have a few days' grace in which to remove the markings
you spoke of."
She dismounted and let her horse nibble a few blades of grass. I did
the same. Dismounted, that is.
"You're probably right. I just don't like to see you taking any
chances," she said. "When are you planning on heading back?"
"I don't know. I suppose that the longer I wait the more likely it is
that the person behind last night's business will get restless and maybe
send more muscle."
She took hold of my arm and turned, so that she was suddenly pressed
against me. I was somewhat surprised by the act, but my free arm
automatically moved to hold the lady as it tends to on such occasions.
"You weren't planning on leaving now, were you? Because if you are, I'm
going with you."
"No," I answered truthfully. Actually, I'd been thinking of departing
the following morning, following a good night's sleep.
"When, then? We still have a lot of things to talk about."
"I think we've pushed the question-and-answer business about as far as
you're willing to let it go."
"There are some things-"
"I know."
Awkward, this. Yes, she was desirable. And no, I didn't care to have
anything to do with her that way. Partly because I felt she wanted something
else as well-what, I wasn't sure-and partly because I was certain she
possessed a peculiar power to which I did not wish to expose myself at
intimate range. As my Uncle Suhuy used to say, speaking technically as a
sorcerer, "If you don't understand it, don't screw around with it." And I
had a feeling that anything beyond a friendly acquaintanceship with Vinta
could well turn into a duel of energies.
So I kissed her quickly to stay friendly and disengaged myself.
"Maybe I'll head back tomorrow," I told her.
"Good. I was hoping you'd spend the night. Perhaps several. I will
protect you."
"Yes, I'm still very tired," I said.
"We'll have to feed you a good meal and build up your strength."
She brushed my cheek with her fingertips then, and I suddenly realized
that I did know her from somewhere. Where? I couldn't say. And that, too,
frightened me. More than a little. As we mounted and headed back toward
Arbor House I began making my plans for getting out of there that night.
So, sitting in my room, sipping a glass of my absent host's wine (the
red) and watching the candles flicker in the breeze from an opened window, I
waited-first for the house to grow quiet (which it had), then for a goodly
time to pass. My door was latched. I had mentioned how tired I felt several
times during dinner, and then I had retired early. I am not so egotistically
male that I feel myself constantly lusted after, but Vinta had given
indication that she might stop by and I wanted the excuse of heavy sleeping.
Least of all did I wish to offend her. I had problems enough without turning
my strange ally against me.
I wished I still had a good book about, but I'd left my last one at
Bill's place, and if I were to summon it now I did not know but that Vinta
might sense the sending, just as Fiona had once known I was creating a
Trump, and come pounding on the door to see what the hell was going on.
But no one came pounding, and I listened to the creakings of a quiet
house and the night sounds without. The candles shortened themselves and the
shadows on the wall behind the bed ebbed and Howed like a dark tide beyond
their swaying light. I thought my thoughts and sipped my wine. Pretty soon.
. . .
An imagining? Or had I just heard my name whispered from some
undetectable place?
"Merle. . . ."
Again.
Real, but
My vision seemed to swim for a moment, and then I realized it for what
it was: a very weak Trump contact.
"Yes," I said, opening and extending. "Who is it?"
"Merle, baby. . . . Give me a hand or I've had it. . . ."
Luke!
"Right here," I said, reaching, reaching, as the image grew clear,
solidified.
He was leaning, his back against a wall, shoulders slumped, head
hanging.
"If this is a trick, Luke, I'm ready for it," I told him. I rose
quickly and, crossing to the table where I had laid my blade, I drew it and
held it ready.
"No trick. Hurry! Get me out of here!"
He raised his left hand. I extended my left hand and caught hold of it.
Immediately he slumped against me, and I staggered. For an instant I thought
it was an attack, but he was dead weight and I saw that there was blood all
over him. He still clutched a bloody blade in his right hand. "Over here.
Come on."
I steered him and supported him for several paces, then deposited him
on the bed. I pried the blade from his grip, then placed it along with mine
on a nearby chair.
"What the hell happened to you?"
He coughed and shook his head weakly. He drew several deep breaths,
then, "Did I see a glass of wine," he asked, "as we passed a table?"
"Yeah. Hold on."
I fetched it, brought it back, propped him and held it to his lips. It
was still over half full. He sipped it slowly, pausing for deep breaths.
"Thanks," he said when he'd finished, then his head turned to the side.
He was out. I took his pulse. It was fast but kind of weak.
"Damn you, Luke!" I said. "You've got the worst timing. . . ."
But he didn't hear a word. He just lay there and bled all over the
place.
Several curses later I had him undressed and was going over him with a
wet towel to find out where, under alt that blood, the injuries lay. There
was a nasty chest wound on the right, which might have hit the lung. His
breathing was very shallow, though, and I couldn't tell. If so, I was hoping
he'd inherited the regenerative abilities of Amber in full measure. I put a
compress on it and laid his arm on top to hold it in place while I checked
elsewhere. I suspected he had a couple of fractured ribs, also. His left arm
was broken above the elbow and I set it and splinted it, using loose slats
from a chair I'd noticed in the back of the closet earlier, and I strapped
it to him. There were over a dozen lacerations and incisions of various
degrees of severity on his thighs, right hip, right arm and shoulder, his
back. None of them, fortunately, involved arterial bleeding. I cleaned all
of these and bound them, which left him looking like an illustration in a
firstaid handbook. Then I checked his chest wound again and covered him up.
I wondered about some of the Logrus healing techniques I knew in theory
but had never had a chance to practice. He was looking pretty pale, so I
decided I had better try them. When I'd finished, some time later, it seemed
as if his color had returned to his face. I added my cloak to the blanket
which covered him. I took his pulse again and it felt stronger. I cursed
again, just to stay in practice, removed our blades from the chair and sat
down on it.
A little later my conversation with Ghostwheel returned to trouble me.
Had Luke been trying to do a deal with my creation? He'd told me he wanted
Ghost's power, to prosecute his designs against Amber. Then Ghost had asked
me earlier today whether Luke was to be trusted, and my answer had been
emphatically negative.
Had Ghost terminated negotiations with Luke in the fashion I saw before
me?
I fetched forth my Trumps and shuffled out the bright circle of the
Ghostwheel. I focused on it, setting my mind for contact, reaching out,
calling, summoning.
Twice I felt near to something-agitated-during the several minutes I
devoted to the effort. But it was as if we were separated by a sheet of
glass. Was Ghost occupied? Or just not inclined to talk with me?
I put my cards away. But they had served to push my thoughts into
another channel.
I gathered Luke's gory clothing and did a quick search. I turned up a
set of Trumps in a side pocket, along with several blank cards and a
penciland yes, they seemed to be rendered in the same style as the ones I
had come to call the Trumps of Doom. I added to the packet the one depicting
myself, which Luke had been holding in his hand when he had trumped in.
His were a fascinating lot. There was one of Jasra, and one of Victor
Melman. There was also one of Julia, and a partly completed one of Bleys.
There was one for the crystal cave, another for Luke's old apartment. There
were several duplicated from the Trumps of Doom themselves, one for a palace
I did not recognize, one for one of my old...
