Roger Zelazny. Blood of Amber
страница №6
...could live with it, though. It might make my job harder, but notimpossible."
"I don't know," I said. "If word of this gets out and I've got nothing
to show for letting you get away like this, I'll be in real hot water."
"I won't tell anybody if you won't."
"There's Vinta."
"And she keeps insisting that her big aim in life is to protect you.
Besides, she won't be there if you go back. Or rather, there will be the
real Vinta, having awakened as from a troubled sleep."
"How can you be so sure?"
"Because you've left. She's probably already off seeking you."
"Do you know what she really is?"
"No, but I'll help you speculate sometime."
"Not now?"
"No, I've got to sleep some more. It's catching up with me again."
"Then let's go over this deal one more time. What are you going to do,
how do you intend to do it and what are you promising me?"
He yawned. "I stay here till I'm back in shape," he said. "Then when
I'm ready to attack the Keep I get in touch with you. Which reminds me, you
still have my Trumps."
"I know. Keep talking. How do you intend taking the Keep?"
"I'm working on it. I'll let you know that too. Anyhow, you can help us
or not at that point, as you see fit. I wouldn't mind having another
sorcerer with me, though. Once we're in and she's freed, I'll tell you what
I promised and you can take it back to Amber."
"What if you lose?" I asked.
He looked away. "I guess there's always that possibility," he finally
agreed. "Okay, how's this? I'll write the whole thing out and keep it with
me. I'll give it to you-by Trump or in person-before we attack. Win or lose,
I'll have paid my way with you."
He extended his good hand and I clasped it.
"Okay," I said.
"Then let me have my Trumps back, and I'll be talking to you as soon as
I get moving again."
I hesitated. Finally, I drew out my pack, which was now grown quite
thick. I shuffled out my own then along with a number of his and passed him
what remained.
"What about the rest?"
"I want to study them, Luke. Okay?"
He shrugged weakly. "I can always make more. But give me back my
mother's."
"Here."
He accepted it, then said, "I don't know what you've got in mind, but
I'll give you a piece of advice: Don't screw around with Dalt. He's not the
nicest of guys when he's normal, and I think there's something wrong with
him right now. Keep away from him."
I nodded, then got to my feet.
"You're going now?" he asked.
"Right."
"Leave me the ladder."
"It's all yours."
"What are you going to tell them back in Amber?"
"Nothing-yet," I said. "Hey, you want me to bring some food up here
before I go? Save you a trip."
"Yeah. Good idea. Bring me a bottle of wine, too."
I went back and got him a load of provisions. I dragged in the sleeping
bag also.
I started up the ladder, then paused. "You don't know your own mind on
this yet," I said, "do you?"
He smiled. "Don't be too sure of that."
When I got to the top I stared at the big boulder that had once sealed
me in. Earlier, I'd thought of returning the favor. I could keep track of
the time, come get him when he was back on his feet. That way, he couldn't
pull a disappearing act on me. I had decided against it, though, not only
because I was the only one who knew he was here and if something happened to
me he'd be dead. Mainly, it was because he wouldn't be able to reach me with
my Trump when he was ready to move, if I kept him fully confined. That's
what I told myself, anyhow.
I stooped and caught hold of the boulder, anyway, and pushed it nearer
the opening.
"Merle! What are you doing?"-from below.
"Looking for fishing bait," I answered.
"Hey, come on! Don't. . . ."
I laughed and pushed it a little nearer.
"Merle!"
"Thought you might want the door closed, in case it rains," I said.
"But it's too damned heavy. Forget it. Take it easy."
I turned and jumped. I thought the extra adrenaline might do him some
good.
8
When I hit the ground I kept going, back to the place from which I had
conjured the ladder, out of sight from several directions.
I withdrew one of the blank cards. Time was running.
When I fished out the pencil, I discovered that its point had broken. I
unsheathed my blade, which was about the length of my arm. I'd found another
use for the thing.
A minute or so later I had the card before me on a Bat rock, and I was
sketching my room back at the Arbor House, the forces of the Logrus moving
through my hands. I had to work deliberately, getting the proper
feeling of the place into the drawing. Finally, when it was finished, I
stood. It was right, it was ready. I opened my mind and regarded my work
until it became reality. Then I walked forward into the room. Just as I did
I thought of something I wanted to ask Luke, but it was too late.
Beyond the window, the shadows of the trees were stretching into the
east. I had obviously been gone for most of the day.
When I turned I saw a sheet of paper upon the now made-up bed, secured
against breezes by the edge of a pillow. I crossed to it and picked it up,
removing the small blue button which lay atop it before I did so.
The writing was in English. It said. PUT THE BUTTON IN A SAFE PLACE
TILL YOU NEED IT. I WOULDN'T CARRY IT AROUND TOO MUCH. I HOPE YOU DID THE
RIGHT THING. I GUESS I'LL FIND OUT PRETTY SOON. SEE YOU AROUND.
It was unsigned.
Safe or not, I couldn't just leave it there. So I wrapped the button in
the note and put it in my pocket. Then I fetched my cloak from the closet
and slung it over my arm.
I departed the room. The latch being broken, I left the door standing
wide. I stopped in the hallway and listened, but I heard no voices, no
sounds of movement.
I made my way to the stairs and headed down. I was almost to the bottom
before I noticed her, so still did she sit, there beside the window to my
right, a tray of bread and cheese, a bottle and a goblet on a small table at
her side.
"Merlin!" she said suddenly, half rising. "The servants said you were
here, but when I looked I couldn't find you."
"I was called away," I said, descending the final stair and advancing.
"How are you feeling?"
"How do you-what do you know about me?" she asked.
' "You probably don't remember anything that happened during the past
couple of days," I replied.
"You are right," she said. "Won't you sit down?"
She gestured at the empty chair at the other side of the small table.
"Please join me." She indicated the tray. "And let me get you some
wine."
"That's all right," I said, seeing that she was drinking the white.
She rose and crossed the room to a cabinet, opened it and took out
another goblet. When she returned she poured a healthy slug of Bayle's Piss
into it and set it near my hand. I guessed it was possible they kept the
good stuff for themselves.
"What can you tell me about my blackout?" she asked. "I'd been in
Amber, and the next thing I knew I was back here and several days had gone
by."
"Yes," I said, taking up a cracker and a bit of cheese. "About what
time i did you become yourself again?"
"This morning."
"It's nothing to worry about-now," I answered. "There shouldn't be a
recurrence.
"But what was it?"
"Just something that's been going around," I said, trying the wine.
"It seems more like magic than the flu."
"Perhaps there was a touch of that too,- I agreed. "You never know what
might blow in out of Shadow. But almost everyone I know who's had it is okay
now."
She furrowed her brow. "It was very strange."
I had a few more crackers and sips of the wine. They did keep the good
stuff for themselves.
"There is absolutely nothing to worry about," I repeated.
She smiled and nodded. "I believe you. What are you doing here,
anyhow?"
"Stopover. I'm on my way back to Amber," I said, "from elsewhere. Which
reminds me-may I borrow a horse?"
"Certainly," she replied. "How soon will you be leaving?"
"As soon as I get the horse," I said.
She got to her feet. "I didn't realize you were in a hurry. I'll take
you over to the stables now."
"'Thanks."
I grabbed two more crackers and another piece of cheese on the way out
and tossed off the rest of the wine. I wondered where the blue fog might be
drifting now.
When I'd located a good horse, which she told me I could have deliv-
ered to their stable in Amber, I saddled him and fitted his bridle. He
was a gray, named Smoke. I donned my cloak then and clasped Vinta's hands.
"Thanks for the hospitality," I said, "even if you don't recall it."
"Don't say good-bye yet," she told me. "Ride around to the kitchen door
off the patio, and I'll give you a water bottle and some food for the road.
We didn't have a mad affair that I don't remember, did we?"
"A gentleman never tells," I said.
She laughed and slapped my shoulder. "Come see me sometime when I'm in
Amber," she told me, "and refresh my memory."
I grabbed a set of saddlebags, a bag of chow for Smoke and a longish
tethering rope. I led him outside as Vinta headed back to the house. I
mounted then and rode slowly after her, a few dogs capering about me. I
circled the manor, taking the long way around, drew rein and dismounted near
the kitchen. I considered the patio, wishing I had one just like it where I
could sit and take coffee in the morning. Or had it just been the company?
After a time, the door opened and Vinta came out and passed me a bundle
and a flask. As I was securing them, she said, "Let my father know that I'll
be back in a few days, will you? Tell him that I came to the country because
I wasn't feeling well, but that I'm all right now."
"Glad to," I said.
"I don't really know why you were here," she said. "But if it involves
politics or intrigue I don't want to know."
"Okay," I said.
"If a servant took a meal to a big red-haired man who seemed to be
pretty badly injured, this would be better forgotten?"
"I'd say."
"It will be, then. But one of these days I'd like the story."
"Me too," I said. "We'll see what we can do."
"So, have a good journey."
"Thanks. I'll try."
I clasped her hand, turned away and mounted.
"So long."
"See you in Amber," she said.
I mounted and continued my circuit of the house until I was back near
the stables again. I headed past them then to a trail we had ridden that led
off in the direction I wanted. Back toward the house, a dog began to howl
and another joined it moments later. There was a breeze out of the south,
and it carried a few leaves past me. I wanted to be on the road, far away
and alone. I value my solitude because that is when I seem to do my best
thinking, and right now I had many things to think over.
I rode to the northwest. About ten minutes later I came to a dirt road
we had crossed the other day. This time I followed it westward, and it
finally took me to the crossroads with the marker indicating that Amber lay
straight ahead. I rode on.
It was a yellow dirt road that I traveled, showing the impress of many
wagon wheels. It followed the contours of the land, passing between fallow
fields bordered by low stone fences, a few trees at either hand. I could see
the stark outlines of mountains far ahead, standing above the forested area
I was soon to encounter. We moved along at an easy gait, and I let my mind
drift over the events of the past few days.
That I had an enemy I did not doubt. Luke had assured me that it was no
longer him, and I had found him to be more than a little persuasive. He need
not have come to me to be patched up, as both he and Vinta had pointed out.
And he could have found his own way to the crystal cave or some other
sanctuary. And the business about my helping him to rescue Jasra couldр have
waited. I was more than half convinced that he was trying to get back on
better terms with me again quickly because I was his only contact with the
Court of Amber, and his fortunes had taken a turn for the worse. I had a
feeling that what he really wanted was an official determination as to his
status with Amber, and that he had mentioned the piece of important
information he would be willing to surrender both as a sign of good faith
and as a bargaining chip. I was not at all certain that I, personally, would
be very crucial to any plan he might have for rescuing Jasra. Not when he
knew the Keep inside and out, was some kind of sorcerer himself and had a
band of mercs he could transport from the shadow Earth. For all I knew, that
fancy ammo of his would work there as well as in Amber. And whether that was
true or not, why couldn't he just trump his attack force into the place? He
wouldn't even really have to win a battle-just get in, grab Jasra and get
out. No, I did not feel that I was really necessary to whatever operation he
finally decided upon. I'd a feeling he'd waved a red herring at me, hoping
that when the air cleared we would simply consider what he had and what he
wanted and make him an offer.
I'd a feeling, too, that he might be willing to call it quits on the
vendetta now that Caine was out of the way and family honor satisfied. And
I'd a notion that Jasra was the stumbling block on his side. While I'd no
idea what hold she might have over him, it had occurred to me that the piece
of information to which he'd referred might represent some means of
neutralizing her. If he got it to us quietly and it seemed to come from our
side, he could save face with her as well as buying peace with us.
Tantalizing. My problem now was to find the best way to present this at
court without looking like a traitor for having let him go. Which meant I
had to show that the profit would be worth the investment.
There were more trees at the roadside now, and the forest itself was
nearer. I crossed a wooden bridge above a clear stream, and the gentle
splashing sounds followed me for a time. There were brown fields and distant
hams to my left, a wagon with a broken axle off to my right. . . .
And if I had read Luke wrong? Was there some way I might be able to
pressure him and make my interpretation come out right anyway? A small idea
began to form. I was not overjoyed with it, but I considered it
nevertheless. Risk and speed were what it involved. It had its merits,
though. I pushed it as far as I could, then put it aside and returned to my
original train of thought.
Somewhere, there was an enemy. And if it wasn't Luke, who was it?
Jasra seemed the most obvious candidate. She had made her feelings to
ward me pretty clear on the occasions of our two meetings. She could welt '
be the one who had dispatched the assassins I had encountered in Death
Alley. In that case, I was probably safe for a time-with her a prisoner
back at the Keep-unless, of course, she had sent along a few more before she
had been captured. That would have been redundant, though. Why waste all
that manpower on me? I had only been a minor figure in the event she sought
to avenge, and the men who came after me had been almost sufficient for the
task.
And if it wasn't Jasra? Then I was still in jeopardy. The wizard in the
blue mask, whom I assumed to be Sharu Gariul, had caused me to be pursued by
a tornado, which seemed a far less friendly overture than the flowers that
had followed. This latter, of course, identified him with the individual
behind my peculiar experience at Flora's apartment back in San Francisco. In
that instance, he had initiated the encounter, which meant that he had some
designs on me. What was it he'd said? Something about the possibility of us
being at cross-purposes at some future time. How interesting, in retrospect.
For I could now see the possibility of such a situation's occurring.
But was it really Sharu Garrul who had sent the assassins? Despite his
familiarity with the power of the blue stone that had guided them-as
evidenced by the blue button in my pocket-it didn't seem to follow. For one
thing, our purposes were not yet crossed. For another, it did not seem the
proper style for a cryptic, flower-throwing master of elements. I could be
dead wrong there, of course, but I expected something more in the nature of
a sorcerous duel with that one.
The fields gave way to wilderness as I approached the verge of the
forest. Something of twilight had already entered its bright-leafed domain.
It did not seem a dense, ancient wood like Arden, however; from the distance
I had seen numerous gaps within its higher reaches. The road continued wide
and well-kept. I drew my cloak more fully about me as I entered the shadowed
coolness. It seemed an easy ride, if it were all to be like this. And I was
in no hung. I had too many thoughts that wanted thinking. . . .
If only I had been able to learn more from that strange, nameless
entity who had, for a time, controlled Vinta. What her true nature might be,
I still had no idea. "Her," yes. I somehow felt the entity to be more
feminine than masculine in nature, despite its having controlled George
Hansen and Dan Martinez. Perhaps this was only because I had made love to
her as Meg Devlin. Difficult to say. But I had known Gail for some time, and
the Lady in the Lake had seemed a real lady. . . .
Enough. I'd decided on my pronoun. Other matters of greater importance
were involved. Like, whatever she was, why was she following me about
insisting that she wanted to protect me? While I appreciated the sentiment,
I still had no insight into her motivation.
But there was something far more important to me than her motivation.
Why she saw fit to guard me could remain her own business. The big question
was: Against what did she feel I needed protection? She must have had a
definite threat in mind, and she had not given me the slightest hint as to
what it was.
Was this, then, the enemy? The real enemy? Vinta's adversary?
I tried reviewing everything I knew or had guessed about her.
There is a strange creature who sometimes takes the form of a small
blue mist. She is capable of finding her way to me through Shadow. She
possesses the power to take control of a human body, completely suppressing
its natural ego. She hung around in my vicinity for a number of years
without my becoming aware of her. Her earliest incarnation that I know of
was as Luke's former girlfriend, Gail.
Why Gail? If she were guarding me, why go around with Luke? Why not
become one of the women I'd dated? Why not be Julia? But no. She had decided
upon Gail. Was that because Luke was the threat, and she'd wanted to keep a
close watch on him? But she'd actually let Luke get away with a few attempts
on my life. And then Jasra. She'd admitted that she'd known Jasra was behind
the later ones. Why hadn't she simply removed them? She could have taken
over Luke's body, stepped in front of a speeding car, drifted away from the
remains, then gone and done the same with Jasra. She wasn't afraid to die in
a host body. I'd seen her do it twice.
Unless she'd somehow known that all their attempts on my life would
fail. Could she have sabotaged the letter bomb? Could she, in some way, have
been behind my premonition on the morning of the opened gas jets? And
perhaps something else with each of the others? Still, it would seem a lot
simpler to go to the source and remove the problem itself. I knew that she
had no compunction about killing. She'd ordered the slaying of my final
assailant in Death Alley.
What, then?
Two possibilities came to mind immediately. One was that she'd actually
come to like Luke and that she'd simply found ways to neutralize him without
destroying him. But then I thought of her as Martinez, and it fell apart.
She'd actually been shooting that night in Santa Fe. Okay. Then there was
the other possibility: Luke was not the real threat, and she'd liked him
enough to let him go on living once he'd quit the April 30 games and she saw
that we'd gotten friendly. Something happened in New Mexico that made her
change her mind. As to what it was, I had no idea. She had followed me to
New York, then, and been George Hansen and Meg Devlin in quick succession.
Luke was, by that time, out of the t picture, following his disappearing act
on the mountain. He no longer represented a threat, yet she was almost
frantic in her efforts to get in touch with me. Was something else
impending? The real threat?
I racked my brains, but I could not figure what that threat might have
been. Was I following a completely false trail with this line of reasoning?
She certainly was not omniscient. Her reason for spiriting me to Arbor
House was as much to pump me for information as it was to remove me
from the scene of the attack. And some of the things she'd wanted to know
were as interesting as some of the things she knew.
My mind did a backward flip. What was the first question she had asked
me?
Landing adroitly on my mental feet, back at Bill Roth's place, I heard
the question several times. As George Hansen she had asked it casually and I
had lied; as a voice on the telephone she had asked it and been denied; as
Meg Devlin, in bed, she had finally gotten me to answer it honestly: What
was your mother's name?
When I'd told her that my mother was named Dara she had finally begun
speaking freely. She had warned me against Luke. It seemed that she might
have been willing to tell me more then, too, save that the arrival of the
real Meg's husband had cut short our conversation.
To what was this the key? It placed my origin in the Courts of Chaos,
to which she had at no time referred. Yet it had to be important, somehow.
I had a feeling that I already had the answer but that I would be
unable to realize it until I had formulated the proper question.
Enough. I could go no further. Knowing that she was aware of my
connection with the Courts still told me nothing. She was also obviously
aware of my connection with Amber, and I could not see how that figured in
the pattern of events either.
So I would leave it at that point and come back to it later. I had
plenty of other things to think about. At Least, I now had lots of new
questions to ask her the next time we met, and I was certain that we would
meet again.
Then something else occurred to me. If she'd done any real protecting
of me at all, it had taken place offstage. She had given me a lot of
information, which I thought was probably correct but which I had had no
opportunity to verify, From her phoning and lurking back in New York to her
killing of my one possible source of information in Death Alley, she had
really been more a bother than a help. It was conceivable that she could
actually show up and encumber me with aid again, at exactly the wrong
moment.
So instead of working on my opening argument for Random, I spent the
next hour or so considering the nature of a being capable of moving into a
person and taking over the controls. There seemed only a certain number of
ways it might be done, and I narrowed the field quickly, considering what I
knew of her nature, by means of the technical exercises my uncle had taught
me. When I thought I had it worked out I backtracked and mused over the
forces that would have to be involved.
From the forces I worked my way through the tonic vibrations of their
aspects. The use of raw power, while flashy, is wasteful and very fatiguing
for the operator, not to mention aesthetically barbaric. Better to be
prepared.
I lined up the spoken signatures and edited them into a spell. Suhuy
would probably have gotten it down even shorter, but there is a point of
diminishing returns on these things, and I had mine figured to where it
should work if my main guesses were correct. So I collated it and assembled
it. It was fairly long-too long to rattle off in its entirety if I were in
the hurry I probably would be. Studying it, I saw that three linchpins would
probably hold it, though four would be better.
I summoned the Logrus and extended my tongue into its moving pattern.
Then I spoke the spell, slowly and clearly, leaving out the four key words I
had chosen to omit. The woods grew absolutely still about me as the words
rang out. The spell hung before me like a crippled butterfly of sound and
color, trapped within the synesthetic web of my personal vision of the
Logrus, to come again when I summoned it, to be released when I uttered the
four omitted words.
I banished the vision and felt my tongue relax. Now she was not the
only one capable of troublesome surprises.
I halted for a drink of water. The sky had grown darker and the small
noises of the forest returned. I wondered whether Fiona or Bleys had been in
touch, and how Bill was doing back in town. I listened to the rattling of
branches. Suddenly, I had the feeling I was being watched-not the cold
scrutiny of a Trump touch, but simply the sensation that there was a pair of
eyes fixed upon me. I shivered. All those thoughts about enemies. . . .
I loosened my blade and rode on. The night was young, and there were
more miles ahead than behind.
Riding through the evening I kept alert, but I neither heard nor saw
anything untoward. Had I been wrong about Jasra, Sharu or even Luke? And was
there a party of assassins at my back right now? Periodically, I drew rein
and sat listening for a short while. But I heard nothing unusual on these
occasions, nothing that could be taken as sounds of pursuit. I became
acutely aware of the blue button in my pocket. Was it acting as a beacon for
some sinister sending of the wizard's? I was loath to get rid of the thing
because I could foresee a number of possible uses for it. Besides, if it had
already attuned me-which it probably had-I could see no benefit in disposing
of it now. I would secrete it someplace safe before I made my attempt to
lose its vibes. Until such a time, I could see no percentage in doing
anything else with it.
The sky continued to darken, and a number of stars had put in hesitant
appearances. Smoke and I slowed even more in our course, but the road
remained good and its pale surface stayed sufficiently visible to present no
hazard. I heard the call of an owl from off to the right and moments later
saw its dark shape rush at middle height among the trees. It would have been
a pleasant night to be riding if I were not creating my own ghosts and
haunting myself with them. I love the smells of autumn and the forest, and I
resolved to bum a few leaves in my campfire later on for that pungency
unlike any other I know.
The air was clean and cool. Hoof sounds, our breathing and the wind
seemed to be the only noises in the neighborhood until we flushed a deer a
bit later and heard the diminishing crashes of its retreat for some time
afterward. We crossed a small but sturdy wooden bridge a little later, but
no trolls were taking tolls. The road took a turn upward, and we wound our
way slowly but steadily to a higher elevation. Now there were numerous stars
visible through the weave of the branches, but no clouds that I could see.
The deciduous trees grew barer as we gained a bit of altitude, and more
evergreens began to occur. I felt the breezes more strongly now.
I began pausing more frequently, to rest Smoke, to listen, to nibble at
my supplies. I resolved to keep going at least until moonrise-which I tried
to calculate from its occurrence the other night, following my departure
from Amber. If I made it to that point before I camped, the rest of the ride
into Amber tomorrow morning would be pretty easy.
Frakir pulsed once, lightly, upon my wrist. But hell, that had often
happened in traffic when I'd cut someone off. A hungry fox could have just
passed, regarded me and wished itself a bear. Still, I waited there longer
than I had intended, prepared for an attack and trying not to appear so.
But nothing happened, the warning was not repeated and after a time I
rode on. I returned to my idea for putting the screws to Luke-and, for that
matter, Jasra. I couldn't call it a plan yet, because it was lacking in
almost all particulars. The more I thought of it, the crazier it seemed. For
one thing, it was extremely tempting, as it held the potential for resolving
a lot of problems. I wondered then why I had never created a Trump for Bill
Roth. I felt a sudden need to talk to a good attorney. I might well want
someone to argue my case before this was done. Too dark now to do any
drawing, though . . , and not really necessary yet. Actually, I just wanted
to talk with him, bring him up to date, get the views of someone not
directly involved.
Frakir issued no further warnings during the next hour. We commenced a
slightly downward course then, soon passing into a somewhat more sheltered
area where the smell of pines came heavy. I mused on-about wizards and
flowers, Ghostwheel and his problems, and the name of the entity who had
recently occupied Vinta. There were lots of other musings, too, some of
which went a long way back. . . .
Many stops later, with a bit of moonlight trickling through the
branches behind me, I decided to call it quits and look for a place to bed
down. I gave Smoke a brief drink at the next stream. About a quarter hour
afterward, I thought I glimpsed what might be a promising spot off to the
right, so I left the road and headed that way.
It turned out not to be as good a place as I'd thought, and I continued
farther into the wood until I came across a small clear area that seemed
adequate. I dismounted, unsaddled Smoke and tethered him, rubbed him down
with his blanket and gave him something to eat. Then I scraped clear a small
area of ground with my blade, dug a pit at its center and built a fire
there. I used a spell to ignite it because I was feeling lazy, and I threw
on several clumps of leaves as I recalled my earlier reflections.
I seated myself on my cloak, my back against the bole of a middle-sized
tree, and ate a cheese sandwich and sipped water while I worked up the
ambition to pull my boots off. My blade lay upon the ground at my side.
My muscles began to unkink. The smell of the fire was a nostalgic
thing. I toasted my next sandwich over it.
I sat and thought of nothing for a long while. Gradually, in barely
perceptible stages, I felt the gentle disengagements lassitude brings to the
extremities. I had meant to gather firewood before I took my ease. But I
didn't really need it. It wasn't all that cold. I'd wanted the fire mainly
for company.
However. . . . I dragged myself to my feet and moved off into the
woods. I did a long, slow reconnaissance about the area once I got moving.
Though to be honest, my main reason for getting up had been to go arid
relieve myself. I halted in my circuit when I thought that I detected a
small flicker of light far off to the northeast. Another campfire? Moonlight
on water? A torch? There had been only a glimpse and I could not locate it
again, though I moved my head about, retraced my most recent few paces and
even struck off a small distance in that direction.
But I did not wish to chase after some will-o'-the-wisp and spend my
night beating the bushes. I checked various lines of sight back to my camp.
My small fire was barely visible even from this distance. I circled my camp,
entered and sprawled again. The fire was already dying and I decided to let
it burn out. I wrapped my cloak about me and listened to the soft sounds of
the wind.
I fell asleep quickly. For how long I slept, I do not know. There were
no dreams that I can recall.
I was awakened by Frakir's frantic pulsing. I opened my eyes the barest
slits and tossed, as if in sleep, so that my right hand fell near the haft
of my blade. I maintained my slow breathing pattern. I heard and felt that
the wind had risen, and I saw that it had fanned the embers to the point
where my fire flared once again. I saw no one before me, however. I strained
my hearing after any sounds, but all I heard was the wind and the popping of
the fire.
It seemed as foolish to spring to my feet into a guard position when I
did not know from which direction the danger was approaching as it did to
remain a target. On the other hand, I had intentionally cast my cloak so
that I lay with a large, low-limbed pine at my back. It would have been very
difficult for someone to have approached me from the rear, let alone to have
done so quietly. So it did not seem I was in danger of an imminent attack
from that direction.
I turned my head slightly and studied Smoke, who had begun to seem a
little uneasy. Frakir continued her now distracting warning till I willed
her to be still.
Smoke was twitching his ears and moving his head about, nostrils
dilated. As I watched, I saw that his attention seemed directed toward my
right. He began edging his way across the camp, his long tether snaking
behind him.
I heard a sound then, beyond the noise of Smoke's retreat, as of
something advancing from the right. It was not repeated for a time, and then
I heard it again. It was not a footfall, but a sound as of a body brushing
against a branch which suddenly issued a weak protest.
I visualized the disposition of trees and shrubs in that direction and
decided to let the lurker draw nearer before I made my move. I dismissed the
notion of summoning the Logrus and preparing a magical attack. It would take
a bit more time than I thought I had remaining. Also, from Smoke's behavior
and from what I had heard, it seemed that there was only a single individual
approaching. I resolved, though, to lay in a decent supply of spells the
first chance I got, both offensive and defensive, on the order of the one I
had primed against my guardian entity. The trouble is that it can take
several days of solitude to work a really decent array of them out properly,
enact them and rehearse their releases to the point where you can spring
them at a moment's notice-and then they have a tendency to start decaying
after a week or so. Sometimes they last longer and sometimes less long,
depending both on the amount of energy you're willing to invest in them and
on the magical climate of the particular shadow in which you're functioning.
It's a lot of bother unless you're sure you're going to need them within a
certain period of time. On the other hand, a good sorcerer should have one
attack, one defense and one escape spell hanging around at all times. But
I'm generally somewhat lazy, not to mention pretty easygoing, and I didn't
see any need for that sort of setup until recently. And recently, I hadn't
had much time to be about it.
So any use I might make of the Logrus now, were I to summon it and
situate myself within its ambit, would pretty much amount to blasting away
with raw power-which is very draining on the operator.
Let him come a little nearer, that's all, and it would be cold steel
and a strangling cord that he would face.
I could feel the presence advancing now, hear the soft stirring of pine
needles. A few more feet, enemy. . . . Come on. That's all I need. Come into
range. . . .
He halted. I could hear a steady, soft breathing.
Then, "You must be aware of me by now, Magus," came a low whisper, "for
we all have our little tricks, and I know the source of yours."
"Who are you?" I asked, as I clasped the haft of my blade and rolled
into a crouch, facing the darkness, the point of my weapon describing a
small circle.
"I am the enemy," was the reply. "The one you thought would never come.
9
Power.
I remembered the day I had stood atop a rocky prominence.
Fiona--dressed in lavender, belted with silverstood in a higher place before
me and somewhat to my
right. She held a silver mirror in her right hand, and she looked
downward through the haze to the place where the great tree towered. There
was a total stillness about us, and even our own small sounds came muffled.
The upper portions of the tree disappeared into a low-hanging fog bank. The
light that filtered through limned it starkly against another pile of fog
which hung at its back, rising to join with the one overhead. A bright,
seemingly self-illuminated line was etched into the ground near the base of
the tree, curving off to vanish within the fog. Far to my left, a brief arc
of a similar intensity was also visible, emerging from and returning to the
billowing white wall.
"What is it, Fiona?" I asked. "Why did you bring me to this place?"
"You've heard of it;' she replied. "I wanted you to see it."
I shook my head. "I've never heard of it. I've no idea what I'm looking
at.
"Come," she said, and she began to descend.
She disdained my hand, moving quickly and gracefully, and we came down
from the rocks and moved nearer to the tree. There was something vaguely
familiar there, but I could not place it.
"From your father," she said at last. "He spent a long time telling you
his story. Surely he did not omit this part."
I halted as understanding presented itself, tentatively at first.
"'That tree," I said.
"Corwin planted his staff when he commenced the creation of the new
Pattern," she said. "It was fresh. It took root."
I seemed to feel a faint vibration in the ground.
Fiona turned her back on the prospect, raised the mirror she carried
and angled it so that she regarded the scene over her right shoulder.
"Yes," she said, after several moments. Then she extended the mirror to
me. "Take a look," she told me, "as I just did."
I accepted it, held it, adjusted it and stared.
The view in the minor was not the same as that which had presented
itself to my unaided scrutiny. I was able to see beyond the tree now,
through the fog, to discern most of the strange Pattern which twisted its
bright way about the ground, working its passages inward to its off-center
terminus, the only spot still concealed by an unmoving tower of white,
within which tiny lights like stars seemed to bum.
"It doesn't look like the Pattern back in Amber," I said.
"No," she answered. "Is it anything like the Logrus?"
"Not really.The Logrus actually alters itself somewhat, constantly.
Still, it's more angular, whereas this is mostly curves and bends."
I studied it a little longer, then returned her looking glass.
"Interesting spell on the mirror," I commented, for I had been studying
this also, while I held it.
"And much more difficult than you'd think," she responded, "for there's
more than fog in there. Watch."
She advanced to the beginning of the Pattern, near the great tree,
where she moved as if to set her foot upon the bright trail. Before it
arrived, however, a small electrical discharge crackled upward and made
contact with her shoe. She jerked her foot back quickly.
"It rejects me," she said. "I can't set foot on it. Try it."
There was something in her gaze I did not like, but I moved forward to
where she had been standing.
"Why couldn't your mirror penetrate all the way to the center of the
thing?" I asked suddenly.
"The resistance seems to go up the farther you go in. It is greatest
there," she replied. "But as to why,I do not know."
I hesitated a moment longer. "Has anyone tried it other than yourself?"
I brought Bleys here," she answered. "It rejected him too."
"And he's the only other one who's seen it?"
"No, I brought Random. But he declined to try. Said he didn't care to
screw around with it right then."
"Prudent, perhaps. Was he wearing the Jewel at the time?"
"No. Why?"
"Just curious."
"See what it does for you."
"All right."
I raised my right foot and lowered it slowly toward the line. About a
foot above it, I stopped.
"Something seems to be holding me back," I said.
"Strange. There is no electrical discharge for you."
"Small blessing," I responded, and I pushed my foot a couple of inches
farther downward. Finally, I sighed. "Nope, Fi. I can't."
I read the disappointment in her features.
"I was hoping," she said as I drew back, "that someone other than
Corwin might be able to walk it. His son seemed the most likely choice."
"Why is it so important that someone walk it? Just because it's there?"
"I think it's a menace," she said. "It has to be explored and dealt with."
"A menace? Why?"
"Amber and Chaos are the two poles of existence, as we understand it,"
she said, "housing as they do the Pattern and the Logrus. For ages there has
been something of an equilibrium between them. Now, I believe, this bastard
Pattern of your father's is undermining their balance."
"In what fashion?"
"There have always been wavelike exchanges between Amber and Chaos.
This seems to be setting up some interference."
"It sounds more like tossing an extra ice cube into a drink," I said.
"It should settle down after a while."
She shook her head. "Things are not settling. There have been far more
shadow-storms since this thing was created. They rend the fabric of Shadow.
They affect the nature of reality itself."
"No good," I said. "Another event a lot more important along these
lines occurred at the same time. The original Pattern in Amber was damaged
and Oberon repaired it. The wave of Chaos which came out of that swept
through all of Shadow. Everything was affected. But the Pattern held and
things settled again. I'd be more inclined to think of all those extra
shadow-storms as being in the nature of aftershocks."
"It's a good argument," she said. "But what if it's wrong?" "I don't
think it is."
"Merle, there's some kind of power here an immense amount of power."
"I don't doubt it."
"It has always been our way to keep an eye on power, to try to
understand it, to control it. Because one day it might become a threat. Did
Corwin tell you anything, anything at all, as to exactly what this
represents and how we might get a handle on it?"
"No," I said. "Nothing beyond the fact that he made it in a hurry to
replace the old one, which he'd figured Oberon might not have succeeded in
repairing."
"If only we could find him."
"There still hasn't been any word?"
"Droppa claims that he saw him at the Sands, back on the shadow Earth
you both favor. He said he was in the company of an attractive woman, and
they were both having a drink and listening to a music group. He waved and
headed toward them through a crowd, and he thought that Corwin saw him. When
he got to their table, though, they were gone."
"That's all?"
"That's all."
"That's not much."
"I know. If he's the only one who can walk this damned thing, though,
and if it is a menace, we could be in big trouble one day."
"I think you're being an alarmist, Aunty."
"I hope you're right, Merle. Come on, I'll take you home."
I studied the place once more, for details as well as feeling, because
I wanted to be able to construct a Trump for it. I never told anyone that
there had been no resistance as I had lowered my foot, because once you set
foot into the Pattern or the Logrus there is no fuming back. You either
proceed to the end or are destroyed by it. And as much as I love mysteries,
my break was at its end and I had to get back to class.
Power.
We were together in a wood within the Black Zone, that area of
Shadow with which Chaos holds commerce. We were hunting zhind, which
are horned, short, black, fierce and carnivorous. I do not much like hunting
because I do not much like killing things I don't really have to. However,
it was Jurt's idea, and since it was possibly also my last chance to work
some reconciliation with my brother before I departed, I had decided to take
him up on the offer. Neither of us was that great an archer, and zhind are
pretty fast. So with any luck at all nothing would get dead and we'd have
some chance to talk and perhaps come away on better terms at the end of the
hunt.
On one occasion when we'd lost the trail and were resting, we talked
for a long time about archery, court politics, Shadow and the weather. He
had been much more civil to me of late, which I took for a good sign. He'd
let his hair grow in such a fashion as to cover the area of his missing left
ear. Ears are hard to regenerate. We did not speak of our duel, or of the
argument that had led up to it. Because I would soon be out of his life, I
felt perhaps he wished to close this chapter of his existence in a
relatively friendly fashion, with both of us going our ways with a memory we
could feel good about. I was half right, anyway.
Later, when we had halted for a cold hail lunch, he asked me, "So, what
does it feel like?"
"What?" I said.
"The power," he answered. "The Logrus power-to walk in Shadow, to work
with a higher order of magic than the mundane."
I didn't really want to go into detail, because I knew he'd prepared
himself to traverse the Logrus on three different occasions and had backed
down at the last moment each time, when he'd looked into it. Perhaps the
skeletons of failures that Suhuy keeps around had troubled him also. I don't
think Jurt was aware that I knew about the last two times he'd changed his
mind. So I decided to downplay my accomplishment.
"Oh, you don't really feel any different," I said, "until you're
actually using it. Then it's hard to describe."
"I'm thinking of doing it soon myself," he said. "It would be good to
see something of Shadow, maybe even find a kingdom for myself somewhere. Can
you give me any advice?"
I nodded. "Don't look back," I said. "Don't stop to think. Just keep
going."
He laughed. "Sounds like orders to an army," he said.
"I suppose there is a similarity."
He laughed again. "Let's go kill us a zhind," he said.
That afternoon, we lost a trail in a thicket full of fallen branches.
We'd heard the zhind crash through it, but it was not immediately apparent
which way it had gone. I had my back to Jurt and was facing the forward edge
of the place, searching for some sign, when F'rakir constricted tightly
about my wrist, then came loose and fell to the ground.
I bent over to retrieve her, wondering what had happened, when I heard
a thank from overhead. Glancing upward, I saw an arrow protruding from the
bole of the tree before me. Its height above the ground was such that had I
remained standing it would have entered my back.
I tamed quickly toward Jurt, not even straightening from my crouch. He
was fitting another arrow to his bow.
He said, "Don't look back. Don't stop to think. Just keep going," and
he laughed.
I dove toward him as he raised the weapon. A better archer would
probably have killed me. I think when I moved he panicked and released the
arrow prematurely, though, because it caught in the side of my leather vest
and I didn't feel any pain.
I clipped him above the knees, and he dropped the bow as he fell over
backward. He drew his hunting knife, rolled to the side and swung the a .
weapon toward my throat. I caught his wrist with my left hand and was cast
onto my back by the force of his momentum. I struck at his face with my
right fist while holding the blade away from me. He blocked the punch and
kneed me in the balls.
The point of the blade dropped to within inches of my throat as this
blow collapsed a big piece of my resistance. Still aching, I was able to
turn my hip to prevent another ball-buster, simultaneous with casting my
right forearm beneath his wrist and cutting my hand in the process. Then I
pushed with my right, pulled with my left and rolled to the left with the
force of the turn. His arm was jerked free from my still-weakened grasp, and
he rolled off to the side and I tried to recover-and then I heard him
scream.
Coming up onto my knees, I saw that he lay upon his left side where he
had come to a stop and the knife was several feet beyond him, caught in a
tangle of broken branches. Both hands were raised to his face, and his cries
were wordless, animal-like bleats.
I made my way over to him to see what had happened, with Frakir held
ready to wrap about his throat in case it were some sort of trick he was
playing.
But it was not. When I reached him I saw that a sharp limb of a fallen
branch had pierced his right eye. There was blood on his cheek and the side
of his nose.
"Stop jerking around!" I said. "You'll make it worse. Let me get it
out."
"Keep your damn hands off me!" he cried.
Then, clenching his teeth and grimacing horribly, he caught hold of the
limb with his right hand and drew his head back. I had to look away. He made
a whimpering noise several moments later and collapsed, unconscious. I
ripped off my left shirt sleeve, tore a strip from it, folded it into a pad
and placed it over his damaged eye. With another strip, I tied it into place
there. Frakir found her way back about my wrist, as usual.
Then I dug out the Trump that would take us home and raised him in my
arms. Mom wasn't going to like this.
Power.
It was a Saturday. Luke and I had been hang gliding all morning. Then
we met Julia and Gail for lunch, and afterward we took the Starburst
out and sailed all afternoon. Later, we'd hit the bar and grill at the
marina where I bought the beers while we waited for steaks, because Luke had
slammed my right arm flat against the tabletop when we'd wrist wrestled to
see who paid for drinks.
Someone at the next table sa...
