The Great Book of Amber - Chronicles 1-10

by Roger Zelazny

  The Oberon thing had said something about my choosing between Amber and Chaos. But, then, it had lied about other things during the same conversation. The devil with both of them! I didn’t ask to get involved in their power game. I had enough problems of my own. I didn’t even care to learn the tales to whatever was going on.

  I kicked a small white stone, watched it roll away. This didn’t feel like something of Jurt’s or Julia’s doing. It seemed either a new factor or an old one which had transformed itself considerably. Where had it first seemed to enter the picture? I guessed it had something to do with the force which had come rushing after me on our attempt to reach Coral. I could only assume that it had located me and this was the result. But what might it be? It would first, I supposed, be necessary that I learn where Coral lay in her circle of fire. Something in that place, I presumed, was behind my current situation. Where then? She had asked the Pattern to send her where she ought to go. . . . I had no way now of asking the Pattern where that might be—and no way at the moment of walking it, to have it send me after her.

  It was time, therefore, to resign the game and employ different means to solve the problem. My Trumps having blown a circuit and my ability to traverse Shadow having encountered a mysterious blockage, I decided it was time to up the power factor by an order of magnitude in my favor. I would summon the Sign of the Logrus and continue my shadow walk, backing every step that I took with the power of Chaos.

  Frakir cut into my wrist. I sought about quickly after any approaching menaces, but I saw nothing. I remained wary for several minutes longer, exploring the vicinity. Nothing occurred, though, and Frakir grew still.

  It was hardly the first time her alarm system had been improperly cued—whether by some stray astral current or some odd thought of my own. But in a place like this, one could not afford to take chances. The highest stand of stone in the vicinity stood at about fifteen to twenty meters, perhaps a hundred paces uphill, to my left. I made my way over to it and commenced climbing.

  When I finally reached its chalky peak, I commanded a view over a great distance in every direction. I did not behold another living thing in this strange silent yin-yang universe.

  So I decided that it had indeed been a false alarm, and I climbed back down. I reached once again to summon the Logrus and Frakir practically behanded me. Hell. I ignored her, and I sent out my call.

  The Sign of the Logrus rose and rushed toward me. It danced like a butterfly, hit like a truck. My newsreel world went away, black and white to black.

  4

  Recovering.

  My head ached, and there was dirt in my mouth. I was sprawled face down. Memory made its way home through the traffic, and I opened my eyes. Still black and white and gray all about. I spit sand, rubbed my eyes, blinked. The Logrus Sign was not present, and I could not account for my recent experience with it.

  I sat up and hugged my knees. I seemed to be stranded, all of my extramundane means of travel and communication blocked. I couldn’t think of anything to do other than get up, pick a direction, and start walking.

  I shuddered. Where would that take me? Just through more of the same—more of this monotonous landscape?

  There came a soft sound, as of a throat being gently cleared.

  I was on my feet in an instant, having inspected every direction on the way up.

  Who’s there? I inquired, having given up on articulation.

  I seemed to hear it again, very near at hand.

  Then, I’ve a message for you, something seemed to say within my head.

  What? Where are you? Message? I tried asking.

  Excuse me, came the muffled voice, —but I’m new at this business. To take things in order, I am where I’ve always been—on your wrist—and when the Logrus blasted through here, it enhanced me additionally, so that I could deliver the message.

  Frakir?

  Yes, My first enhancement, that day you bore me through the Logrus, involved sensitivity to danger, mobility, combat reflexes, and a limited sentience. This time the Logrus added direct mental communication and expanded my awareness to the point where I could deliver messages.

  Why?

  It was in a hurry, could stay in this place for only an instant, and this was the only way for it to let you know what is going on.

  I didn’t realize the Logrus was sentient.

  Something like a chuckle followed.

  Then, It is hard to classify an intelligence of that order, and I suppose it doesn’t really have much to say most of the time, came Frakir’s reply. Its energies are mainly expended in other areas.

  Well, why did it come through here and blitz me?

  Unintentional. It was a by-product of my enhancement, once it saw that I was the only means of reaching you with more than a few words or images.

  Why was its time here so limited? I asked.

  It is the nature of this land, which lies between the shadows, that it be mainly inaccessible both to the Pattern and the Logrus.

  A sort of demilitarized zone?

  No, it is not a matter of truce. It is simply that it is extremely difficult for either of them to manifest here at all. This is why the place is pretty much unchanging.

  This is a place they can’t reach?

  That’s about the size of it.

  How come I never heard of it before?

  Probably because no one else can reach it too readily either.

  So what’s the message?

  Basically, that you not try calling upon the Logrus again while you’re here. The place represents such a distorting medium that there’s no assurance how any projected energy might manifest outside some convenient vessel. It could be dangerous for you.

  I massaged my throbbing temples. At least it got my mind off my sore jaw.

  All right, I agreed. Any hints as to what I’m supposed to be doing here?

  Yes, this is a trial. Of what, I can’t say.

  Do I have a choice?

  What do you mean?

  May I refuse to participate?

  I suppose. But then I don’t know how you get out of here.

  So I do get released from this place at the end, if I play?

  If you’re still living, yes. Even if you’re not, I’d imagine.

  Then I really have no choice.

  There will be a choice.

  When?

  Somewhere along the way. I don’t know where.

  Why don’t you just repeat all of your instructions to me?

  Can’t. I don’t know what all is here. It will surface only in response to a question or a situation.

  Will any of this interfere with your strangling function?

  It shouldn’t.

  That’s something, anyway. Very well. Have you any idea what I’m supposed to do next?

  Yes. You should begin climbing the highest hill to your left.

  Which—Okay, I guess that’s the one, I decided, my gaze settling upon a broken fang of blazing white stone.

  And so I walked toward it, up a gradually steepening slope. The black sun mounted higher into the grayness. The eerie silence continued.

  Uh, do you know exactly what we will find whenever we get to wherever we’re going? I tried to say in Frakir’s direction.

  I am certain that the information is present, came the reply, but I do not believe that it will be available until we reach the appropriate locale.

  I hope you’re right.

  Me, too.

  The way continued to steepen. While I had no way to measure the time exactly, it seemed that more than an hour passed before I left the foothills and was climbing the white mountain itself. While I observed no footprints nor saw any other sign of life, I did, on several occasions, encounter long stretches of natural-seeming trail, shelf-like, leading up that high bleached face. Several more hours must have passed as I negotiated this, the dark sun riding to mid-heaven and beginning its descent toward a west that lay beyond this peak. It was annoying not to be able to curse aloud.r />
  How can I be sure we’re on the proper side of the thing? Or heading for the right area? I asked.

  You’re still going in the proper direction, Frakir answered.

  But you don’t know how much farther it’ll be?

  Nope. I’ll know when I see it, though.

  The sun is going to slip behind the mountain fairly soon. Will you be able to see it to know it then?

  I believe the sky actually brightens here when the sun goes away. Negative space is funny that way, Whatever, something is always bright here and something is always dark. There’ll be the wherewithal for detection.

  Any idea what we’re actually doing?

  One of those damned quest-things, I think.

  Vision? Or practical?

  It was my understanding that they all partake of both, though I feel this one is heavily weighted toward the latter. On the other wrist, anything you encounter between shadows is likely to partake of the allegorical, the emblematic—all that crap people bury in the non-conscious parts of their beings.

  In other words, you don’t know either:

  Not for sure, but I make my living as a sensitive guesser.

  I reached high, grabbed handholds, drew myself up to another ledge. I followed it for a time, climbed again. At length the sun went away, and it made no difference in my ability to see. Darkness and light changed places.

  I scaled a five- or six-meter irregularity and halted when I finally got a look into the recessed area it rose to. There was an opening in the face of the mountain to its rear. I hesitated to label it a cave because it appeared artificial. It looked as if it had been carved in the form of an arch, and it was big enough to ride through on horse-back.

  What do you know, Frakir commented, twitching once upon my wrist. This is it.

  What? I asked.

  The first station, she replied. You stop here and go through a bit of business before moving on.

  That being?

  It’s easier just to go and look.

  I hauled myself up over the edge, got to my feet, and walked forward. The big entranceway was filled with that sourceless light. I hesitated on the threshold, peered within.

  It looked to be a generic chapel. There was a small altar, a pair of candles upon it sporting flickering coronas of blackness. There were stone benches carved along the walls. I counted five doorways apart from the one by which I stood: three in the wall across from me, one in that to the right, another to the left. Two piles of battle gear lay in the middle of the room. There were no symbols of whatever religion might be represented.

  I entered.

  What am I supposed to do here? I asked.

  You are supposed to sit vigil, guarding your armor overnight.

  Aw, come on, I said, moving forward to inspect the stuff. What’s the point?

  That’s not a part of the information I’ve been given.

  I picked up a fancy white breastplate which would have made me look like Sir Galahad. Just my size, it seemed. I shook my head and lowered the piece. I moved over to the next pile and picked up a very odd-looking gray gauntlet. I dropped it immediately and rooted through the rest of the stuff. More of the same. Contoured to fit me, also. Only—

  What is the matter, Merlin?

  The white stuff, I said, looks as if it would fit me right now. The other armor appears to be of a sort used in the Courts. It looks as if it would fit me just right when I’m shifted into my Chaos form. So either set would probably do for me, depending on circumstances. I can use only one outfit at a time, though. Which am I supposed to guard?

  l believe that’s the crux of the matter. I think you’re supposed to choose.

  Of course! I snapped my fingers, heard nothing. How slow of me, that I need to have things explained by my strangling cord!

  I dropped to my knees, swept both sets or armor and weapons together into one nasty-looking heap.

  If I have to guard them, I said, I’ll guard both sets. I don’t care to take sides.

  I’ve a feeling something isn’t going to like that, Frakir answered.

  I stepped back and regarded the pile.

  Tell me about this vigil business again, I said. What all’s involved?

  You’re supposed to sit up all night and guard it.

  Against what?

  Against anything that tries to misappropriate it, I guess. The powers of Order—

  —or Chaos.

  Yeah, I see what you mean. Heaped up together that way, anything might come by to grab off a piece.

  I seated myself on the bench along the rear wall, between two doorways. It was good to rest for a bit after my long climb. But something in my mind kept grinding away. Then, after a time, What’s in it for me? I asked.

  What do you mean?

  Say I sit here all night and watch the stuff. Maybe something even comes along and makes a pass at it. Say I fight it off. Morning comes, the stuff is still here, I’m still here, Then what? What have I gained?

  Then you get to don your armor, pick up your weapons, and move on to the next stage of affairs.

  I stifled a yawn.

  You know, I don’t think I really want any of that stuff, I said then. I don’t like armor, and I’m happy with the sword I’ve got. I clapped my hand to its hilt. It felt strange, but then so did I. Why don’t we just leave the whole pile where it is and move on to the next stage now? What is the next stage anyway?

  I’m not sure. The way the Logrus threw information at me it just seems to surface at the appropriate time. I didn’t even know about this place till I saw the entrance.

  I stretched and folded my arms. I leaned my back against the wall. I extended my legs and crossed them at the ankles.

  Then we’re stuck here till something happens or you get inspired again?

  Right.

  Wake me when it’s over, I said, and I closed my eyes.

  The wrist twitch that followed was almost painful.

  Hey! You can’t do that! Frakir said. The whole idea is that you sit up all night and watch.

  And a very half-assed idea it is, I said. I refuse to play such a stupid game. If anything wants the stuff, I'll give it a good price on it.

  Go ahead and sleep if you want. But what if something comes along and decides you had better be taken out of the picture first?

  To begin with, I replied, I don’t believe that anything could care about that pile of medieval junk, let alone lust after it—and in closing, it’s your job to warn me of danger.

  Aye, aye, Captain. But this is a weird place. What if it limits my sensitivity some way?

  You’re really reaching now, I said. I guess you’ll just have to improvise.

  I dozed. I dreamed that I stood within a magic circle and various things tried to get at me. When they touched the barrier, though, they were transformed into stick figures, cartoon characters which rapidly faded. Except for Corwin of Amber, who smiled faintly and shook his head.

  “Sooner or later you’ll have to step outside,” he said.

  “Then let it be later,” I replied.

  “And all your problems will still be there, right where you left them.”

  I nodded.

  “But I’ll be rested,” I answered.

  “Then it’s a trade-off. Good luck.”

  “Thanks.”

  The dream fell apart into random images then. I seem to remember standing outside the circle a little later, trying to figure a way to get back in. . . .

  I wasn’t certain what woke me. It couldn’t have been a noise. But suddenly I was alert and rising, and the first thing I beheld was a dwarf with a mottled complexion, his hands clasped at his throat, lying unmoving in a twisted position near the armor pile.

  “What’s going on?” I tried saying. But there was no reply.

  I crossed and knelt beside the short big-shouldered guy. With my fingertips, I felt after a carotid pulse but couldn’t locate one. At that moment, however, I felt a tickling sensation about my wrist, and Frakir—phasin
g into and out of visibility—made her way back into touch with with me.

  You took that guy out? I asked.

  There came a soft pulsation then. Suicides don’t strangle themselves, she replied.

  Why didn’t you alert me?

  You needed your rest, and it wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle. Our empathy is too strong, though. Sorry I woke you.

  I stretched.

  How long was I asleep?

  Several hours, I’d judge.

  I feel kind of sorry about this, I said. That scrap heap isn’t worth somebody’s life,

  It is now, Frakir answered.

  True. Now that someone’s died for the stuff have you gotten the word as to what we do next?

  Things are a little clearer, but not enough to act on. We must remain until morning for me to be certain.

  Does the information you have include anything on whether there’s food or drink available in the neighborhood?

  Yes. There’s supposed to be a jug of water behind the altar. Also a loaf of bread. But that’s for morning. You’re supposed to be fasting throughout the night.

  That’s only if I take this whole business seriously, I said, turning toward the altar.

  I took two steps, and the world started to come apart. The floor of the chapel trembled, and I heard my first sounds since my arrival; a deep growling, grating noise came from somewhere far beneath me. A horde of colors flashed through the air of this colorless place, half-blinding me with their intensity. Then the colors fled, and the room divided itself. The whiteness grew intense in the vicinity of the archway by which I had entered. I had to raise my hand to shield my eyes against it. Across from this, a profound darkness occurred, masking the three doorways in that wall.

  What . . . is it? I asked.

  Something terrible, Frakir replied, beyond my ability to access.

  I clasped the hilt of the blade I wore and reviewed the spells I still had hanging. Before I could do any more than that, an awful sense of presence pervaded the place. So potent did it seem that I did not feel that drawing my blade or reciting a spell was the most politic action I might take.

  Ordinarily I’d have summoned the Sign of the Logrus by then, but that way was barred to me also. I tried clearing my throat, but no sound came forth. Then there came a movement at the heart of the light, a coalescing. . . .