I led us past strange islands where green birds cawed and green apes hung like fruit in the trees, swung, sometimes gibbered, and threw rocks into the sea. Aimed, doubtless, at us.
I took us far out to sea, and then nosed the fleet around back in the direction of shore.
Bleys by now was marching across the plains of the worlds. Somehow, I knew he would make it, past whatever defenses Eric had set up. I kept in touch with him by means of the cards, and I learned of his encounters along the way. Like, ten thousand men dead in a plains battle with centaurs, five thousand lost in an earthquake of frightening proportions. Fifteen hundred dead of a whirlwind plague that swept the camps. Nineteen thousand dead or missing in action as they passed through the jungles of a place I didn't recognize, when the napalm fell upon them from the strange buzzing things that passed overhead. Six thousand deserting in a place that looked like the heaven they had been promised, five hundred unaccounted for as they crossed a sand flat where a mushroom cloud burned and towered beside them. Eighty-six hundred gone as they moved through a valley of suddenly militant machines that rolled forward on treads and fired fires, eight hundred sick and abandoned, two hundred dead from flash floods, fifty-four dying of duels among themselves, three hundred dead from eating poisonous native fruits, a thousand slain in a massive stampede of buffalo-like creatures, seventy-three gone when their tents caught fire, fifteen hundred carried away by the floods, two thousand slain by the winds that came down from the blue hills.
I was pleased that I'd lost only a hundred and eighty-six ships in that time.
To sleep, perchance to dream...Yeah, there's a thing that rubs. Eric was killing us by inches and hours. His proposed coronation was only a few weeks away, and he obviously knew we were coming against him, because we died and we died.
Now, it is written that only a prince of Amber may walk among Shadows, though of course he may lead or direct as many as he chooses along such courses. We led our troops and saw them die, but of Shadow I have this to say: there is Shadow and there is Substance, and this is the root of all things. Of Substance, there is only Amber, the real city, upon the real Earth, which contains everything. Of Shadow, there is an infinitude of things. Every possibility exists somewhere as a Shadow of the real. Amber, by its very existence, has cast such in all directions. And what may one say of it beyond? Shadow extends from Amber to Chaos, and all things are possible within it. There are only three ways of traversing it, and each of them is difficult.
If one is a prince or princess of the blood, then one may walk, crossing through Shadows, forcing one's environment to change as one passes, until it is finally in precisely the shape one desires it, and there stop. The Shadow world is then one's own, save for family intrusions, to do with as one would. In such a place had I dwelled for centuries.
The second means is the cards, cast by Dworkin, Master of the Line, who had created them in our image, to facilitate communications between members of the royal family. He was the ancient artist to whom space and perspective meant nothing. He had made up the family Trumps, which permitted the willer to touch his brethren wherever they might be. I had a feeling that these had not been used in full accord with their author's intention.
The third was the Pattern, also drawn by Dworkin, which could only be walked by a member of our family. It initiated the walker into the system of the cards, as it were, and at its ending gave its walker the power to stride across Shadows.
The cards and the Pattern made for instant transport from Substance through Shadow. The other way, walking, was harder.
I knew what Random had done in delivering me into the true world. As we had driven, he kept adding, from memory, that which he recalled of Amber, and subtracting that which did not agree. When everything corresponded, he knew we had arrived. It was no real trick, for had he the knowledge, any man could reach his own Amber. Even now, Bleys and I could find Shadow Ambers where each of us ruled, and spend all of time and eternity ruling there. But this would not be the same, for us. For none would be the true Amber, the city into which we're born, the city from which all others take their shapes.
So we were taking the hardest route, the walk through Shadow, for our invasion of Amber itself. Anyone knowing this and possessing the power could interpose obstacles. Eric had done so, and now we faced them as we died. What would come of this? No one knew.
But if Eric were crowned king, it would be reflected and shadowed everywhere.
All the surviving brothers, we princes of Amber, I am sure, felt it much better, each in his own simple way, personally to achieve this status and thereafter let the Shadows fall where they might.
We passed ghost fleets, the ships of Gerard, as we sailed-the Flying Dutchmen of this world-that world, and we knew we were coming near. I used them as reference points.
On the eighth day of our voyaging we were near to Amber. That is when the storm broke.
The sea turned dark, the clouds collected overhead, and the sails grew slack within the still that followed. The sun hid its face-an enormous blue one-and I felt that Eric had found us at last.
Then the winds arose, and-if you'll excuse the expression-broke-upon the vessel I rode.
We were tempest-tossed and storm-torn, as the poets say. or said. My guts felt loose and watery as the first billows hit us. We were hurled from side to side like dice in a giant's hand. We were swept over the waters of the sea and the waters from the sky. The sky turned black, and there was sleet mixed in with the glassy bell ropes that pulled the thunder. Everyone, I'm sure, cried out. I know I did. I pulled my way along the shifting deck to seize the abandoned wheel. I strapped myself in place and held it. Eric had cut loose in Amber, that was for damn sure.
One, two, three, four, and there was no letup. Five hours, then. How many men had we lost? I dunno.
Then I felt and heard a tingling and a tinkling, and I saw Bleys as through a long gray tunnel.
"What's the matter?" he asked. "I've been trying to reach you."
"Life is full of vicissitudes," I replied. "We're riding out one of them."
"Storm?" he said.
"You bet your sweet ass. It's the granddaddy of them all. I think I see a monster off to port. If he has any brains, he'll aim for the bottom. . . . He just did."
"We just had one ourselves," Bleys told me.
"Monster or storm?"
"Storm," he replied. "Two hundred dead."
"Keep the faith," I said, "hold the fort, and talk to me later. Okay?"
He nodded, and there were lightnings at his back.
"Eric's got our number," he added, before he cut off.
I had to agree.
It was three more hours before things let up, and many more later I learned that we had lost half of the fleet (and on my vessel-the flagship-we had lost forty of the crew of one hundred and twenty). It was a hard rain that fell.
Somehow, to the sea over Rebma, we made it.
I drew forth my cards and held Random's before me.
When he realized who was talking. the first thing he said was "Turn back," and I asked him why.
" 'Cause, according to Llewella, Eric can cream you now. She says wait a while, till he relaxes, and hit him then-like a year from now, maybe."
I shook my head.
"Sorry," said I. "Can't. Too many losses involved in getting us this far. It's a now-or-never situation."
He shrugged, wearing a "Like, I warned you" expression.
"Why. though?" I asked him.
"Mainly because I just learned he can control the weather around here," he said.
"We'll still have to chance it."
He shrugged again.
"Don't say I didn't tell you."
"He definitely knows we're coming?"
"What do you think? Is he a cretin?"
"No."
"Then he knows. If I could guess it in Rebma, then he knows in Amber-and I did guess, from a wavering of Shadow."
"Unfortunately," I said, "I have some misgivi
ngs about this expedition, but it's Bleys' show."
"You cop out and let him get axed."
"Sorry, but I can't take the chance. He might win. I'm bringing in the fleet."
"You've spoken with Caine, with Gerard?"
"Yes."
"Then you must think you have a chance upon the waters. But listen, Eric has figured a way to control the Jewel of Judgment, I gather, from court gossip about its double. He can use it to control the weather here. That's definite. God knows what else he might be able to do with it."
"Pity," I said. "We'll have to suffer it. Can't let a few storms demoralize us."
"Corwin, I'll confess. I spoke with Eric himself three days ago."
"Why?"
"He asked me. I spoke with him out of boredom. He went into great detail concerning his defenses."
"That's because he learned from Julian that we came in together. He's sure it'll get back to me."
"Probably," he said. "But that doesn't change what he said."
"No," I agreed.
"Then let Bleys fight his own war," he told me. "You can hit Eric later."
"He's about to be crowned in Amber."
"I know, I know. It's as easy to attack a king, though, as a prince. isn't it? What difference does it make what he calls himself at the time, so long as you take him? It'll still be Eric."
"True," I said, "but I've committed myself."
"Then uncommit yourself," he said.
" 'Fraid I can't do that."
"Then you're crazy, Charlie."
"Probably."
"Well, good luck, anyhow."
"Thanks."
"See you around."
And that was that, and it troubled me.
Was I heading into a trap?
Eric was no fool. Perhaps he had a real death-gig lined up. Finally, I shrugged and leaned out over the rail, the cards once again behind my belt.
It is a proud and lonely thing to be a prince of Amber, incapable of trust. I wasn't real fond of it just then, but there I was.
Eric, of course, had controlled the storm we'd just passed through, and it seemed in line with his being weather master in Amber, as Random had told me.
So I tried something myself.
I headed us toward an Amber lousy with snow. It was the most horrible blizzard I could conjure up.
The big flakes began to fall, out there on the ocean.
Let him stop them a normal enough Shadow offering, if he could.
And he did.
Within a half hour's time the blizzard had died, Amber was virtually impervious-and it was really the only city. I didn't want to go off course, so I let things be. Eric was master of the weather in Amber.
What to do?
We sailed on, of course. Into the jaws of death,
What can one say?
The second storm was worse than the first, but I held the wheel. It was electrified, and focused only on the fleet. It drove us apart. It cost us forty vessels more.
I was afraid to call Bleys to see what had been done to him.
"Around two hundred thousand troops are left," he said. "Flash flood," and I told him what Random had told
me.
"I'll buy it," he said. "But let's not dwell on it. Weather or no, we'll beat him."
"I hope so."
I lit a cigarette and leaned across the bow.
Amber should be coming into sight soon, I knew the ways of Shadow now, and I knew how to get there by walking.
But everyone had misgivings.
There would never be a perfect day, though.
So we sailed on, and the darkness came upon us like a sudden wave, and the worst storm of them all struck.
We managed to ride out its black lashings, but I was scared. It was all true, and we were in northern waters. If Caine had kept his word, all well and good. If he was getting us out, he was in an excellent position.
So I assumed he had sold us out. Why not? I prepared the fleet-seventy-three vessels remaining-for battle, when I saw him approach. The cards had lied-or else been very correct-when they'd pointed to him as the key figure.
The lead vessel headed toward my own, and I moved forward to meet it. We hove to, and side by side regarded one another. We could have communicated via the Trumps, but Caine didn't choose to; and he was in the stronger position. Therefore, family etiquette required that he choose his own means. He obviously wanted to be on record as he called out, through an amplifier:
"Corwin! Kindly surrender command of your fleet! I've got you outnumbered. You can't make it through!"
I regarded him across the waves and raised my own amplifier to my lips.
"What of our arrangement?" I asked.
"Null and void," he said. "Your force is far too weak to hurt Amber, so save lives and surrender it now."
I looked over my left shoulder and regarded the sun.
"Pray hear me, brother Caine," said I, "and grant me this then: give me your leave to confer with my captains till the sun stands in high heaven."
"Very well," he replied, without hesitation. "They appreciate their positions, I'm sure."
I turned away then and ordered that the ship he turned about and headed back in the direction of the main body of vessels.
If I tried to flee, Caine would pursue me through the Shadows and destroy the ships, one by one. Gunpowder did not ignite on the real Earth, but if we moved very far away, it too would he employed to our undoing. Caine would find some, for it was probable, were I to depart, the fleet could not sail the Shadow seas without me, and would be left as sitting ducks upon the real waters here. So the crews were either dead or prisoners, whatever I did.
Random had been right.
I drew forth Bleys' Trump and concentrated till it moved.
"Yes?" he said, and his voice was agitated. I could almost hear the sounds of battle about him.
"We're in trouble," I said. "Seventy-three ships made it through, and Caine has called on us to surrender by noon."
"Damn his eyes!" said Bleys. "I haven't made it as far as you. We're in the middle of a fight now. An enormous cavalry force is cutting us to pieces. So I can't counsel you fairly. I've got my own problems. Do as you see fit. They're coming again!" And the contact was broken.
I drew forth Gerard's, and sought contact.
When we spoke it seemed I could see a shore line behind him. I seemed to recognize it. If my guess was correct, he was in southern waters. I don't like to remember our conversation. I asked him if he could help me against Caine, and if he would.
"I only agreed to let you by," he said. "That is why I withdrew to the south. I couldn't reach you in time if I wanted to. I did not agree to help you kill our brother."
And before I could reply, he was gone. He was right, of course. He'd agreed to give me an opportunity, not to fight my battle for me.
What then did that leave me?
I lit a cigarette. I paced the deck. It was no longer morning. The mists had long vanished and the sun warmed my shoulders. Soon it would be noon. Perhaps two hours.
I fingered my cards, weighed the deck in my hand. I could try a contest of wills through them, with either Eric or Caine. There was that power present, and perhaps even others of which I knew nothing. They had been so designed, at the command of Oberon, by the hand of the mad artist Dworkin
Dworkin, that wild-eyed hunchback who had been a sorcerer, priest, or psychiatrist-the stories conflicted on this point-from some distant Shadow where Dad had saved him from a disastrous fate he had brought upon himself. The details were unknown, but he had always been a bit off his rocker since that time. Still, he was a great artist, and it was undeniable that he possessed some strange power. He had vanished ages ago, after creating the cards and tracing the Pattern in Amber. We had often speculated about him, but no one seemed to know his whereabouts. Perhaps Dad had done him in, to keep his secrets secret.
Caine would be ready for such an attack, and I probably couldn't break him, though I might be ab
le to hold him. Even then, though, his captains had doubtless been given the order to attack.
Eric would surely be ready for anything, but if there was nothing else left to do, I might as well try it. I had nothing to lose but my soul.
Then there was the card for Amber itself. I could take myself there with it and try an assassination, but I figured the odds were about a million to one against my living to effect it.
I was willing to die fighting, but it was senseless for all these men to go down with me. Perhaps my blood was tainted, despite my power over the Pattern. A true prince of Amber should have had no such qualms. I decided then that my centuries on the Shadow Earth had changed me, softened me perhaps, had done something to me which made me unlike my brothers.
I decided to surrender the fleet and then transport myself to Amber and challenge Eric to a final duel. He'd be foolish to accept. But what the hell-I had nothing else left to do.
I turned to make my wishes known to my officers, and the power fell upon me, and I was stricken speechless.
I felt the contact and I finally managed to mutter "Who?" through clenched teeth. There was no reply, but a twisting thing bored slowly within my mind and I wrestled with it there.
After a time when he saw that I could not be broken without a long struggle, I heard Eric's voice upon the wind:
"How goes the world with thee, brother?" he inquired.
"Poorly," I said or thought, and he chuckled, though his voice seemed strained by the efforts of our striving.
"Too bad," be told me. "Had you come back and supported me, I would have done well by you. Now, of course, it is too late. Now, I will only rejoice when I have broken both you and Bleys."
I did not reply at once, but fought him with all the power I possessed. He withdrew slightly before it, but he succeeded in holding me where I stood.
If either of us dared divert his attention for an Instant, we could come into physical contact or one of us get the upper hand on the mental plane. I could see him now, clearly, in his chambers in the palace. Whichever of us made such a move, though, he would fall beneath the other's control.
So we glared at each other and struggled internally. Well, he had solved one of my problems, by attacking me first. He held my Trump in his left hand and his brows were furrowed. I sought for an edge, but couldn't find one. People were talking to me but I couldn't hear their words as I stood there backed against the rail.
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