“Think of it this way, my dear,” I told her. “Ours has been a purely physical relationship all along. There will be others. . . many others. Adieu!”
I bowed and blew her a kiss as I stepped forward into Amber, leaving her to clutch at rainbows as I caught hold of Random’s shoulder and staggered.
“Corwin! What the hell—”
“If blood be the price of admiralty, I’ve just bought me a naval commission,” I said. “Give me something to wear.”
He draped a long, heavy cloak about my shoulders—and I fumbled to clasp it at my throat. “All set,” I said. “Take me to him.”
He led me out the door, into the hall, toward the stair. I leaned on him heavily as we went.
“How bad is it?” he asked me.
“Knife,” I said, and laid my hand on the spot. “Someone attacked me in my room last night.”
“Who?”
“Well, it couldn’t have been you, because I had just left you,” I said, “and Gerard was up in the library with Brand. Subtract the three of you from the rest and start guessing. That is the best—”
“Julian,” he said.
“His stock is definitely bearish,” I said. “Fiona was just running him down for me the other night, and of course it is no secret that he is not my favorite.”
“Corwin, he’s gone. He cut out during the night. The servant who came to get me told me that Julian had departed. What does that look like to you?”
We reached the stair. I kept one hand on Random and rested there briefly.
“I don’t know,” I said. “It can sometimes be just as bad to extend the benefit of the doubt too far as not to grant it at all. But it does occur to me that if he thought he had disposed of me, he would look a lot better by staying here and acting surprised to learn of it than by getting the hell out. That does look suspicious. I am inclined to think he might have departed because he was afraid of what Brand would have to say when he came around.”
“But you lived, Corwin. You got away from whoever attacked you, and he could not be certain he had done you in. If it were me, I would be worlds away by now.”
“There is that,” I acknowledged, and we started on down again. “Yes, you might well be right. Let us leave it academic for now. And no one is to know I have been injured.”
He nodded.
“As you say. Silence beats a chamber pot in Amber.”
“How’s that?”
“ ‘Tis gilt, m’lord, like a royal flush.”
“Your wit pains both wounded and unwounded parts, Random. Spend some figuring how the assailant entered my room.”
“Your panel?”
“It secures from the inside. I keep it that way now. And the door’s lock is a new one. Tricky.”
“All right, I have it. My answer requires that it be a family member, too.”
“Tell me.”
“Someone was willing to psyche himself up and tough it through the Pattern again for a shot at you. He went below, walked it, projected himself into your room, and attacked you.”
“That would be perfect except for one thing. We all left at pretty much the same time. The attack did not occur later on in the evening. It happened immediately on my entering. I do not believe there was sufficient time for one of us to get down to the chamber, let alone negotiate the Pattern. The attacker was already waiting. So if it was one of us, he had gotten in by some other means.”
“Then he picked your lock, tricks and all.”
“Possibly,” I said as we reached the landing and continued on. “We will rest at the corner so that I can go on into the library unassisted.”
“Sure thing.”
We did that. I composed myself, drew the cloak completely about me, squared my shoulders, advanced, and knocked on the door.
“Just a minute.” Gerard’s voice. Footsteps approaching the door . . .
“Who is it?”
“Corwin,” I said. “Random’s with me.”
I heard him call back, “You want Random, too?” and I heard a soft “No” in reply.
The door opened.
“Just you. Corwin,” Gerard said.
I nodded and turned to Random.
“Later,” I told him.
He returned my nod and headed back in the direction from which we had come. I entered the library.
“Open your cloak, Corwin,” Gerard ordered.
“That is not necessary,” Brand said, and I looked over and saw that he was propped up by a number of cushions and showing a yellow-toothed smile.
“Sorry, I am not as trusting as Brand,” Gerard said, “and I will not have my work wasted. Let’s have a look.”
“I said that it is not necessary,” Brand repeated. “He is not the one who stabbed me.”
Gerard turned quickly.
“How do you know he isn’t?” he asked.
“Because I know who did, of course. Don’t be an ass, Gerard. I wouldn’t have asked for him if I had reason to fear him.”
“You were unconscious when I brought you through. You couldn’t know who did it.”
“Are you certain of that?”
“Well . . . Why didn’t you tell me, then?”
“I have my reasons, and they are valid ones. I want to speak with Corwin alone now.”
Gerard lowered his head. .
“You had better not be delirious,” he said. He stepped to the door, opened it again. “I’ll be within hailing distance,” he added, and closed it behind him.
I moved nearer. Brand reached up and I clasped his hand.
“Good to see that you made it back,” he said.
“Vice versa,” I said, and then I took Gerard’s chair, trying not to collapse into it.
“How do you feel now?” I asked.
“Rotten, in one sense. But better than I have in years, in another. It’s all relative.”
“Most things are.”
“Not Amber.”
I sighed.
“All right. I wasn’t getting technical. What the hell happened?”
His gaze was most intense. He was studying me, looking for something. What? Knowledge, I’d guess. Or, more correctly, ignorance. Negatives being harder to gauge, his mind had to be moving fast, must have been from the moment he had come around. Knowing him, he was more interested in what I did not know than in what I knew. He wasn’t going to give away anything if he could help it. He wanted to know the minimum enlightenment he need shed in order to get what he wanted. Not a watt more would he willingly spend. For this was his way, and of course he wanted something. Unless . . . More strongly in recent years than ever before I have tried to convince myself that people do change, that the passage of time does not serve merely to accentuate that which is already there, that qualitative changes do sometimes occur in people because of things they have done, seen, thought, and felt. It would provide some small solace in times such as these when everything else seems to be going wrong, not to mention pepping up my mundane philosophy no end. And Brand had probably been responsible for saving my life and my memory, whatever his reasons. Very well, I resolved to give him the doubt’s benefit without exposing my back. A small concession here, my move against the simple psychology of humors which generally governs the openings of our games.
“Things are never what they seem, Corwin,” he began. “Your friend today is your enemy tomorrow and—”
“Cut it out!” I said. “Cards-on-the-table time is here. I do appreciate what Brandon Corey did for me, and it was my idea to try the trick we used to locate you and bring you back.”
He nodded.
“I fancy there were good reasons for a recrudescence of fraternal sentiment after all this time.”
“I might suppose you had additional reasons for helping me, also.”
He smiled again, raised his right hand and lowered it.
“Then we are either even or in each other’s debt, depending upon how one looks at these things. As it would seem we now have need of each other, it
would be well to regard ourselves in the most flattering light.”
“You are stalling, Brand. You are trying to psych me. You are also spoiling my day’s effort at idealism. You got me out of bed to tell me something. Be my guest.”
“Same old Corwin,” he said, chuckling. Then he looked away. “Or are you? I wonder . . . Did it change you, do you think? Living all that while in Shadow? Not knowing who you really were? Being a part of something else?”
“Maybe,” I said. “I don’t know. Yes, I guess I did. I know that it shortened my temper when it comes to family politics.”
“Plain-speaking, blunt, plain-dealing? You miss some of the fun that way. But then there is a value to such novelty. Keep everyone unbalanced with it . . . revert when they least expect it. . . . Yes, it might prove valuable. Refreshing, too. All right! Panic not. Thus end my preliminaries. All pleasantries are now exchanged. I’ll bare the basics, bridle the beast Unreason, and wrest from murky mystery the pearl of sweetest sense. But one thing first, if you would. Have you anything smokable with you? It has been a number of years, and I’d like some foul weed or other—to celebrate my homecoming.”
I started to say no. But I was sure there were some cigarettes in the desk, left there by me. I did not really want the exercise, but, “Just a minute,” I said.
I tried to make my movements look casual rather than stiff as I rose and crossed the room. I attempted to make it seem as if I were resting my hand naturally upon the desktop as I rummaged through it, rather than leaning as heavily as I was. I masked my movements with my body and my cloak as much as possible.
I located the package and returned as I had come, stopping to light a pair at the hearth. Brand was slow in taking his from me.
“Your hand is rather shaky,” he said. “What is the matter?”
“Too much partying last night,” I said, returning to my chair.
“I hadn’t thought of that. I imagine there would have been, wouldn’t there? Of course. Everyone together in one room . . . Unexpected success in finding me, bringing me back . . . A desperate move on the part of a very nervous, very guilty person. . . . Half success there. Me injured and mum, but for how long? Then—”
“You said that you knew who did it. Were you kidding?”
“No, I was not.”
“Who then?”
“In its place, dear brother. In its place. Sequence and order, time and stress—they are most important in this matter. Allow me to savor the drama of the event in safe retrospect. I see me punctured and all of you gathered round. Ah! what would I not give to witness that tableau! Could you possibly describe for me the expression on each face?”
“I’m afraid their faces were my least concern at the time.” He sighed and blew smoke.
“Ah, that is good,” he said. “Never mind, I can see their faces. I’ve a vivid imagination, you know. Shock, distress, puzzlement—shading over into suspicion, fear. Then all of you departed, I’m told, and gentle Gerard my nursemaid here.” He paused, stared into the smoke, and for a moment the note of mockery was absent.
“He is the only decent one among us, you know.”
“He’s high on my list,” I said.
“He took good care of me. He’s always looked out for the rest of us.” He chuckled suddenly. “Frankly, I can’t see why he bothers. As I was musing, though—prompted by your recuperating self—you must have adjourned to talk things over. There is another party I’m sad I missed. All those emotions and suspicions and lies bouncing off one another—and no one wanting to be the first to say good night. It must have gotten shrill after a time. Everyone on his own best behavior, with an eye out to blacken the rest. Attempts to intimidate the one guilty person. Perhaps a few stones shied at scapegoats. But, all in all, nothing much really accomplished. Am I right?”
I nodded, appreciative of the way his mind worked, and resigned to letting him tell it his way.
“You know you’re right,” I said.
He gave me a sharp look at that, then went on. “But everyone did finally go off, to lie awake worrying, or to get together with an accomplice, to scheme. There were hidden turmoils in the night. It is flattering to know that my well-being was on everyone’s mind. Some, of course, were for it, others against. And in the midst of it all, I rallied—nay, flourished—not wishing to disappoint my supporters. Gerard spent a long while bringing me up to date on recent history. When I had enough of this, I sent for you.”
“In case you haven’t noticed. I’m here. What did you want to tell me?”
“Patience, brother! Patience! Consider all the years you spent in Shadow, not even remembering—this.” He gestured widely with his cigarette. “Consider all that time you waited, unknowing, until I succeeded in locating you and tried to remedy your plight. Surely a few moments now are not so priceless by contrast.”
“I was told that you had sought me,” I said. “I wondered at that, for we had not exactly parted on the best of terms the last time we were together.”
He nodded.
“I cannot deny it,” he said. “But I always get over such things, eventually.”
I snorted.
“I have been deciding how much to tell you, and what you would believe,” he continued. “I doubted you would accept it if I had simply come out and said that, save for a few small items, my present motives are almost entirely altruistic.”
I snorted again.
“But this is true,” he went on, “and to lay your suspicions, I add that it is because I have small choice in it. Beginnings are always difficult. Wherever I begin, something preceded it. You were gone for so long. If one must name a single thing, however, then let it be the throne. There. I have said it. We had thought of a way to take it, you see. This was just after your disappearance, and in some ways, I suppose, prompted by it. Dad suspected Eric of having slain you. But there was no evidence. We worked on this feeling, though—a word here and there, every now and then. Years passed, with you unreachable by any means, and it seemed more and more likely that you were indeed dead. Dad looked upon Eric with growing disfavor. Then, one night, pursuant to a discussion I had begun on a totally neutral matter—most of us present at the table—he said that no fratricide would ever take the throne, and he was looking at Eric as he said it. You know how his eyes could get. Eric grew bright as a sunset and could not swallow for a long while. But then Dad took things much further than any of us had anticipated or desired. In fairness to you, I do not know whether he spoke solely to vent his feelings, or whether he actually meant what he said. But he told us that he had more than half decided upon you as his successor, so that he took whatever misadventure had befallen you quite personally. He would not have spoken of it, but that he was convinced as to your passing. In the months that followed, we reared you a cenotaph to give some solid form to this conclusion, and we made certain that no one forgot Dad’s feelings toward Eric. All along, after yourself, Eric was the one we felt had to be gotten around to reach the throne.”
“We! Who were the others?”
“Patience, Corwin. Sequence and order, time and stress! Accent, emphasis . . . Listen.”
He took another cigarette, chain-lit it from the butt, stabbed the air with its burning tip.
“The next step required that we get Dad out of Amber. This was the most crucial and dangerous part of it, and it was here that we disagreed. I did not like the idea of an alliance with a power I did not fully understand, especially one that gave them some hold on us. Using shadows is one thing; allowing them to use you is ill-considered, whatever the circumstances. I argued against it, but the majority had it otherwise.” He smiled. “Two to one. Yes, there were three of us. We went ahead then. The trap was set and Dad went after the bait—”
“Is he still living?” I asked.
“I do not know,” Brand said. “Things went wrong afterward, and then I’d troubles of my own to concern me. After Dad’s departure though, our next move was to consolidate our position while waiting a respe
ctable period of time for a presumption of death to seem warranted. Ideally, all that we required was the cooperation of one person. Either Caine or Julian—it did not matter which. You see, Bleys had already gone off into Shadow and was in the process of putting together a large military force—”
“Bleys! He was one of you?”
“Indeed. We intended him for the throne—with sufficient strings on him, of course, so that it would have amounted to a de facto triumvirate. So, he went off to assemble troops, as I was saying. We hoped for a bloodless takeover, but we had to be ready in the event that words proved insufficient to win our case. If Julian gave us the land route in, or Caine the waves, we could have transported the troops with dispatch and held the day by force of arms, should that have proven necessary. Unfortunately, I chose the wrong man. In my estimate. Caine was Julian’s superior in matters of corruption. So, with measured delicacy I sounded him on the matter. He seemed willing to go along with things, at first. But he either reconsidered subsequently or deceived me quite skillfully from the beginning. Naturally, I prefer to believe that it was the former. Whatever, at some point he came to the conclusion that he stood to benefit more by supporting a rival claimant. To wit, Eric. Now Eric’s hopes had been somewhat dashed by Dad’s attitude toward him—but Dad was gone, and our intended move gave Eric the chance to act as defender of the throne. Unfortunately for us, such a position would also put him but a step away from the throne itself. To make matters darker, Julian went along with Caine in pledging the loyalty of his troops to Eric, as defender. Thus was the other trio formed. So Eric took a public oath to defend the throne, and the lines were thereby drawn. I was naturally in a somewhat embarrassing position at this time. I bore the brunt of their animosity, as they did not know who my fellows were. Yet they could not imprison or torture me, for I would immediately be trumped out of their hands. And if they were to kill me, they realized there might well be a reprisal by parties unknown. So it had to stand as a stalemate for a time. They also saw that I could no longer move directly against them. They kept me under heavy surveillance. So a more devious route was charted. Again I disagreed and again I lost, two to one. We were to employ the same forces we had called upon to deal with Dad, this time for purposes of discrediting Eric. If the job of defending Amber, so confidently assumed, were to prove too much for him and Bleys then came onto the scene and handled the situation with dispatch, why Bleys would even have popular support as he moved on to assume the role of defender himself and—after a fit period of time—suffered the thrusting of sovereignty upon him, for the good of Amber.”
The Great Book of Amber - Chronicles 1-10 Page 52
