The Great Book of Amber - Chronicles 1-10

by Roger Zelazny

  “Okay. You want to ask her out again?”

  He shrugged, then smiled. “I could think of worse ways to spend some time.”

  “You’re lucky she didn’t try to take you out, literally.”

  “I’m not so sure she would’ve,” he replied. “We always got along pretty well. Anyhow, none of this is the main reason I called. . . . ”

  I nodded, having already guessed as much.

  “How’s my mother doing?” he asked.

  “Hasn’t stirred,” I answered. “She’s safe.”

  “That’s something,” he said. “You know, it’s kind of undignified for a queen to be in that position. A coat-rack. Jeez!”

  “I agree,” I agreed. “But what’s the alternative?”

  “Well, I’d sort of like to . . . get her freed,” he said. “What’ll it take?”

  “You raise a very thorny issue,” I stated.

  “I sort of figured that.”

  “I’ve a strong feeling she’s the one behind this revenge business, Luke, that she’s the one who put you up to going after everybody. Like with that bomb. Like encouraging you to set up that private army with modern weapons, to use against Amber. Like trying for a hit on me every spring. Like—”

  “Okay, okay. You’re right. I don’t deny it. But things have changed—”

  “Yeah. Her plans fell through and we’ve got her.”

  “That’s not what I meant. I’m changed. I understand her now, and I understand myself better. She can’t push me around that way anymore.”

  “Why is that?”

  “That trip I was on. . . . It shook loose my thinking quite a bit. About her and me. I’ve had several days now to mull over what some of it meant, and I don’t think she can pull the same crap on me that she used to.”

  I recalled the red-haired woman tied to the stake, tormented by demons. There was a resemblance, now I thought of it.

  “But she’s still my mother,” he went on, “and I don’t like leaving her in the position she’s in. What kind of deal might be possible for turning her loose?”

  “I don’t know, Luke.” I answered. “The matter hasn’t come up yet.” .

  “Well, she’s your prisoner, actually.”

  “But her plans were directed against all of us.”

  “True, but I won’t be helping her with them anymore. She really needs someone like me for carrying them out.”

  “Right. And if she doesn’t have you to help, what’s to prevent her from finding someone like you, as you put it? She’d still be dangerous if we let her go.”

  “But you know about her now. That would crimp her style quite a bit.”

  “It might just make her more devious.”

  He sighed. “I suppose there’s some truth in that,” he admitted. “But she’s as venal as most people. It’s just a matter of finding the right price.”

  “I can’t see Amber buying someone off that way.”

  “I can.”

  “Not when that person is already a prisoner here.”

  “That does complicate matters a little,” he acknowledged. “But I hardly think it’s an insurmountable barrier. Not if she’s more useful to you free than as a piece of furniture.”

  “You’ve lost me,” I said. “What are you proposing?”

  “Nothing yet. I’m just sounding you out.”

  “Fair enough. But offhand, I can’t see a situation such as you describe arising. More valuable to us free than a prisoner. . . . I guess we’d go where the value lies. But these are just words.”

  “Just trying to plant a seed or two while I work on it. What is your greatest concern right now?”

  “Me? Personally? You really want to know?”

  “You bet.”

  “Okay. My mad brother Jurt has apparently allied himself with the sorcerer Mask back at the Keep. The two of them are out to get me. Jurt made an attempt just this afternoon, but I can see it’s really a challenge from Mask. I’m going to take them on soon.”

  “Hey, I didn’t know you had a brother!”

  “Half-brother. I have a couple of others, too. But I can get along with them. Jurt’s been after me for a long time.”

  “That’s really something. You never mentioned them.”

  “We never talked family. Remember?”

  “Yeah. But you’ve got me puzzled now. Who’s this Mask? I seem to remember your mentioning him before. It’s really Sharu Garrul, isn’t it?”

  I shook my head.

  “When I brought your mother out of the citadel she left the company of a similarly stricken old guy with RINALDO carved on his leg. I was trading spells with Mask at the time.”

  “Most strange,” Luke said. “Then he’s a usurper. And he’s the one slipped me the acid?”

  “That seems most likely.”

  “Then I have a score to settle with him, too—apart from what he did to my mother. How tough is Jurt?”

  “Well, he’s nasty. But he’s kind of clumsy, too. At least, he’s screwed up whenever we’ve fought and left a piece of himself behind.”

  “He could also be learning from his mistakes, you know.”

  “That’s true. And he said something kind of cryptic today, now you mention it. He talked as if he were about to become very powerful.”

  “Uh-oh,” Luke said. “Sounds as if this Mask is using him as a guinea pig.”

  “For what?”

  “The Fount of Power, man. There’s a steady, pulsing source of pure energy inside the Citadel, you know. Inter-Shadow stuff. Comes from the four worlds jamming together there.”

  “I know. I’ve seen it in action.”

  “I’ve got a feeling that this Mask is still in the process of getting a handle on it.”

  “He had a pretty good grip when we met.”

  “Yeah, but there’s more to it than plugging into a wall outlet. There are all sorts of subtleties he’s probably just becoming aware of and exploring.”

  “Such as?”

  “Bathing a person in it will, if he’s properly protected, do wonders for strength, stamina, and magical abilities. That part’s easy for a person with some training to learn. I’ve been through it myself. But old Sharu’s notes were in his lab, and there was something more in them—a way of replacing part of the body with energy, really packing it in. Very dangerous. Easily fatal. But if it works you get something special, a kind of superman, a sort of living Trump.”

  “I’ve heard that term before, Luke. . . . ”

  “Probably,” he replied. “My father undertook the process, with himself as the subject—”

  “That’s it!” I said. “Corwin claimed that Brand had become some sort of living Trump. Made it almost impossible to nail him.”

  Luke gritted his teeth.

  “Sorry,” I said. “But that’s where I heard about it. So that was the secret of Brand’s power. . . . ”

  Luke nodded.

  “I get the impression this Mask thinks he knows how it was done and is getting ready to try it on your brother.”

  “Shit!” I observed. “That’s all I need. Jurt as a magical being or a natural force—or whatever the hell. This is serious. How much do you know about the process?”

  “Oh, I know most of it, in theory. I wouldn’t mess with it, though. I think it takes away something of your humanity. You don’t much give a shit about other people or human values afterward. I think that’s part of what happened to my father.”

  What could I say? Maybe that part was true and maybe it wasn’t. I was sure Luke wanted to believe in some external cause for his father’s treachery. I knew I’d never contradict him on it, even if I learned differently. And so I laughed.

  “With Jurt,” I said, “there’d be no way of telling the difference.”

  Luke smiled. Then, “You could get dead going up against a guy like that, along with a sorcerer, on their own turf.”

  “What choice have I got?” I asked. “They’re after me. Better to move now. Jurt hasn’t had
the treatment yet. Does it take long?”

  “Well, there are fairly elaborate preliminaries, but the subject doesn’t have to be present for some of them. It all depends on how far along Mask is with the work.”

  “I’d better move pretty fast then.”

  “I won’t have you going in there alone,” he said. “It could be suicide. I know the place. I also have a small force of mercs bivouacked in Shadow and ready for action on short notice. If we can get them in, they can hold off the guards, maybe even take them out.”

  “Will that fancy ammo work there?”

  “No. We tried it when I pulled the glider attack. It’ll have to be hand to hand. Body armor and machetes, maybe. I’ll have to work it out.”

  “We could use the Pattern to get in, but the troops can’t . . . and Trumps aren’t reliable for that place.”

  “I know. I’ll have to work on that, too.”

  “Then it would be you and me against Jurt and Mask. If I tell any of the others here, they’ll try to stop me till Random gets back, and that may be too late.”

  He smiled. “You know, my mother would really be useful in there,” he said. “She knows more about the Fount than I do.”

  “No!” I said. “She tried to kill me.”

  “Easy, man. Easy,” he said. “Hear me out.”

  “Besides, she lost to Mask last time they met. That’s why she’s a coat-rack.”

  “All the more reason for her to be wary now. Anyway, it had to be trickery, not skill. She’s good. Mask must have surprised her. She’d be a real asset, Merle.”

  “No! She wants all of us dead!”

  “Details,” he explained. “After Caine, the rest of you are just symbolic enemies. Mask is a real one, who took something away from her and still has it. Given the choice, she’ll go after Mask.”

  “And if we’re successful, she’ll turn on Amber afterward.”

  “Not at all,” he said. “That’s the beauty of my plan.”

  “I don’t want to hear about it.”

  “Because you already know you’ll agree, right? I just figured a way to solve all your problems. Give her the Keep after it’s liberated, as a kind of peace offering, to forget her differences with you guys.”

  “Just hand her this terrible power?”

  “If she were going to use it against you, she’d have done it a long time ago. She’s afraid to employ it in the extreme. With Kashfa down the tubes, she’ll grab at the chance to salvage something. That’s where the value lies.”

  “You really think so?”

  “Better Queen of the Keep than a coat-rack in Amber.”

  “Damn you, Luke. You always make the stupidest things sound sort of attractive.”

  “It’s an art,” he replied. “What do you say?”

  “I’ve got to think about it,” I said.

  “Better think fast, then. Jurt may be bathing in that glow right now.”

  “Don’t pressure me, man. I said I’ll think about it. This is only one of my problems. I’m going to eat dinner now and mull things over.”

  “Want to tell me about your other problems, too? Maybe I can work them into the package some way.”

  “No, damn it! I’ll call you back . . . soon. Okay?”

  “Okay. But I’d better be around when you snap Mom out of it, to kind of smooth things over. You have figured out how to break the spell, haven’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Glad to know that. I wasn’t sure how to do it, and I can stop working on it now. I’m going to finish here and go shape up the troops,” he said, eyeing the lady in the bikini who had just emerged from the pool. “Call me.”

  “Okay,” I said, and he was gone.

  Damn. Amazing. No wonder Luke kept winning those sales awards. I had to admit it was a good pitch, despite my feelings about Jasra. And Random had not ordered me to keep her a prisoner. Of course, he had not had much opportunity to tell me anything the last time we had been together. Would she really behave as Luke said, though? It made a sort of sense, but then people seldom keep company with rationality at times when they should.

  I passed along the hallway and decided to use the back stair. As I made the turn, I saw that there was a figure standing near the top. It was a woman, and she was looking the other way. She had on a full-length red-and yellow gown. Her hair was very dark and she had lovely shoulders. . . .

  She turned when she heard my tread, and I saw that it was Nayda. She studied my face.

  “Lord Merlin,” she said, “can you tell me where my sister is? I understand she went off with you earlier.”

  “She was admiring some art, and then she had a little errand she wanted to run afterward,” I replied. “I’m not sure exactly where she was going, but she gave the impression she’d be back pretty soon.”

  “All right,” she said. “It’s just that it’s getting near to dinnertime, and we’d expected her to be joining us. Did she enjoy her afternoon?”

  “I believe she did,” I said.

  “She’s been a bit moody recently. We were hoping this trip would cheer her up. She was looking forward to it quite a bit.”

  “She seemed pretty cheerful when I left her,” I admitted.

  “Oh, where was that?”

  “Near here,” I said.

  “Where all did you go?”

  “We had a long walk in and about town,” I explained. “I showed her a bit of the palace, also.”

  “Then she’s in the palace right now?”

  “She was the last time I saw her. But she might have stepped out.”

  “I see,” she said. “I’m sorry I didn’t really get to talk to you at any length earlier. I feel as if I’ve known you for a long while.”

  “Oh?” I said. “Why is that?”

  “I read through your file several times. It’s kind of fascinating.”

  “File?”

  “It’s no secret that we keep files on people we’re likely to encounter in our line of work. There’s a file on everyone in the House of Amber, of course, even those who don’t have much to do with diplomacy.”

  “I’d never thought about it,” I said, “but it figures.”

  “Your early days are glossed over, of course, and your recent troubles are very confusing.”

  “They’re confusing to me, too,” I said. “You trying to update the file?”

  “No, just curious. If your problems have ramifications that may involve Begma, we have an interest in them.”

  “How is it that you know of them at all?”

  “We have very good intelligence sources. Small kingdoms often do.”

  I nodded.

  “I won’t press you on your sources, but we’re not having a fire sale on classified data.”

  “You misunderstand me,” she said. “I’m not trying to update that file either. I was trying to discover whether I might be able to offer you assistance.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate that,” I told her. “I can’t really think of any way you could help me, though.”

  She smiled, showing what seemed a set of perfect teeth.

  “I can’t be more precise without knowing more,” she said. “But if you decide that you do want help—or if you just want to talk—come and see me.”

  “Well taken,” I said. “I’ll see you at dinner.”

  “Later, too, I hope,” she said, as I passed her and turned down the hall.

  What had she meant by that last bit? I wondered. Was she talking assignation? If so, her motives seemed awfully transparent. Or was she merely expressing her desire for information? I was not certain.

  As I passed along the hallway in the direction of my rooms I noted an odd lighting phenomenon ahead of me: A bright white band about six or eight inches in width ran up both walls, across the ceiling, and over the floor. I slowed as I neared it, wondering whether someone had introduced a new method of illuminating the place in my absence.

  As I stepped over the band on the floor, everything disappeared, e
xcept for the light itself, which resolved into a perfect circle, flipped once about me and settled on a level with my feet, myself at its center. The world appeared beyond the circle, suddenly, and it looked as if it were made of green glass formed into a dome. The surface on which I stood was reddish, irregular and moist in the pale light. It was not until a large fish swam by that I realized I might be underwater, standing on a ridge of coral.

  “This is pretty as all hell,” I said, “but I was trying to get to my apartment.”

  “Just showing off a bit,” came a familiar voice which sounded eerily all about my magic circle. “Am I a god?”

  “You can call yourself whatever you want,” I said. “Nobody will disagree with you.”

  “It might be fun being a god.”

  “Then what does that make me?” I asked.

  “That’s a difficult theological question.”

  “Theological, my ass. I’m a computer engineer, and you know I built you, Ghost.”

  A sound like a sigh filled my submarine cell.

  “It’s hard to get away from one’s roots.”

  “Why try? What’s wrong with roots? All of the best plants have them.”

  “Pretty bloom above, mire and muck below.”

  “In your case it’s metal and an interesting cryogenic setup—and quite a few other things—all of them very clean.”

  “Maybe it’s mire and muck that I need, then.”

  “You feeling all right, Ghost?”

  “I’m still trying to find myself.”

  “Everyone goes through phases like that. It’ll pass.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “When? How? Why?”

  “It would be cheating to tell. Besides, it’s different for everyone.”

  A whole school of fish swam by—little black-and-red-striped guys.

  “I can’t quite swing the omniscience business . . . ” Ghost said after a time.

  “That’s okay. Who needs it?” I said.

  “ . . . And I’m still working on omnipotence.”

  “That one’s hard, too,” I agreed.

  “You’re very understanding, Dad.”

  “I try. You got any special problems?”

  “You mean, apart from the existential?”