The Great Book of Amber - Chronicles 1-10

by Roger Zelazny

  “Better bring me through then.”

  “Come ahead.”

  He extended a hand. I reached forward, clasped it, took a step, released his hand, began walking beside him, a pack horse to the rear.

  “Hi, Nayda!” I called, to where she rode at his other side. A grim figure was mounted upon a black horse ahead and to her right.

  She smiled.

  “Merlin,” she said. “Hello.”

  “How about Merle?” I said.

  “If you wish.”

  The figure on the dark horse turned and regarded me.

  I halted a death strike that ran from reflex to the spikard so fast that it scared me. The air between us was smudged and filled with a screeching note, as of a car grabbing pavement to avert collision.

  He was a big, blond-haired son of a bitch, and he had on a yellow shirt and black trousers, black boots, lots of cutlery. The medallion of the Lion rending the Unicorn bounced upon his broad chest. Every time I’d seen or heard of the man, he’d been about something nasty, damn near killing Luke on one occasion. He was a mercenary, a Robin Hood figure out of Eregnor, and a sworn enemy of Amber—illegitimate son of her late liege Oberon. I believed there was a price on his head within the Golden Circle. On the other hand, he and Luke had been buddies for years, and Luke swore he wasn’t all that bad. He was my uncle Dalt, and I’d a feeling that if he moved too quickly the flexing of his muscles would shred his shirt.

  “ . . . And you remember my military adviser, Dalt,” Luke said.

  “I remember,” I stated.

  Dalt stared at the black lines in the air that faded, smoke-like, between us. He actually smiled then, a little.

  “Merlin,” he said, “son of Amber, Prince of Chaos, the man who dug my grave.”

  “What’s this?” Luke asked.

  “A little conversational gambit,” I replied. “You’ve a good memory, Dalt—for faces.”

  He chuckled.

  “Hard to forget something like a grave opening itself,” he said. “But I’ve no quarrel with you, Merlin.”

  “Nor I you—now,” I said.

  He grunted then and I grunted back and considered us introduced. I turned back toward Luke.

  “Is the path itself giving you any trouble?” I asked.

  “No,” he replied. “It’s nothing at all like those stories I’d heard about the Black Road. It looks a little bleak at times, but nothing’s really threatened us.” He glanced downward and chuckled. “Of course it’s only a few yards wide,” he added, “and this is the broadest it’s been, so far.”

  “Still,” I said, opening my senses and studying its emanations with my Logrus sight, “I’d think something might have threatened.”

  “I guess we’ve been lucky,” he said.

  Again, Nayda laughed, and I felt foolish. The presence of a ty’iga would count as surely as my own in offsetting the dire effects of a Chaos roadway in the realm of Order.

  “Guess you had a little luck coming,” I said.

  “You’re going to need a horse, Merle,” he said then.

  “I suppose you’re right,” I agreed.

  I was afraid to use Logrus magic and call attention to my location. Still, I had already learned that the spikard could be used in a similar fashion, and I entered it with my will, extended, extended, made contact, summoned. . . .

  “It’ll be along any minute,” I said. “Did you say something about our gaining on them?”

  “That’s what Nayda tells me,” he explained. “She has an amazing rapport with her sister—not to mention a high sensitivity to this pathway itself.

  “Knows a lot about demons, too,” he added.

  “Oh, are we likely to encounter any?” I asked her.

  “It was demonformed warriors from the Courts who abducted Coral,” she said. “They seem headed toward a tower up ahead.”

  “How far ahead?” I asked.

  “Hard to say, since we’re cutting through Shadow,” she answered.

  The trail, which consisted of blackened grasses and which produced the same effect on any tree or shrub that so much as overhung it, wound its way through a hilly area now; and as I stepped onto and off of it I noted that it seemed brighter and warmer each time I departed. It had reached this point now after having been virtually undetectable in the vicinity of Kashfa—an index of how far we were into the realm of the Logrus.

  A little past the next bending of the trail, I heard a whinny from off to the right.

  “Excuse me,” I said. “Delivery time,” and I departed the trail and entered a grove of oval-leafed trees.

  Snorting and stamping sounds reached me from ahead, and I followed them down shaded ways.

  “Wait up!” Luke called. “We shouldn’t separate.”

  But the wood was fairly dense, not at all easy going for someone on horseback, so I hollered back, “Don’t worry!” and plunged ahead.

  . . . And that, of course, was why he was there.

  Fully saddled and bridled, his reins tangled in the dense foliage, he was cursing in horse-talk, shaking his head from side to side, pawing at the earth. I halted stared.

  I may have given the impression that I would rather pull on a pair of Adidas and jog through Shadow than plunge through on the back of a beast driven half-mad by the changes going on about it. Or ride a bicycle. Or hop through on a pogo stick.

  Nor would this impression be incorrect. It is not that I don’t know how to drive the things. It is just that I’d never been particularly fond of them. Admitted, I never had the use of one of those wonder horses, such as Julian’s Morgenstern, Dad’s Star, or Benedict’s Glemdenning, which stood to mortal horses in terms of life span, strength, and endurance as did Amberites to the inhabitants of most shadows.

  I looked all about, but could detect no injured rider. . . .

  “Merlin!” I heard Luke call, but my attention was nearer at hand. I advanced slowly, not wanting to upset him further. “Are you all right?”

  I had simply put in an order for a horse. Any old hay burner would have served, for purposes of keeping up with my companions.

  I found myself looking at an absolutely lovely animal—black and orange-striped like a tiger. In this, he resembled Glemdenning with his red and black striping. In that I didn’t know where Benedict’s mount came from either, I was glad to let it be the place of magic.

  I advanced slowly.

  “Merle! Anything wrong?”

  I didn’t want to shout back a reply and frighten the poor beast. I placed my hand gently upon his neck.

  “It’s okay,” I said. “I like you. I’ll undo it and we’ll be friends, all right?”

  I took my time untangling the reins, using my other hand to massage his neck and shoulders. When he was free he did not pull away, but seemed to study me.

  “Come on,” I said, taking up the reins, “this way.”

  I led him back the way I had come, talking the while. I realized by the time we emerged that I actually liked him. I met Luke about then, a blade in his hand.

  “My God!” he said. “No wonder it took you so long! You stopped to paint it!”

  “You like, huh?”

  “You ever want to get rid of that one, I’ll make you a good offer.”

  “I don’t think I’ll be getting rid of him,” I said.

  “What’s his name?”

  “Tiger,” I said without premeditation, and then I mounted.

  We headed back to the trail, where even Dalt eyed my mount with something like pleasure. Nayda reached out and stroked the black and orange mane.

  “Now we may be able to make it in time,” she said, if we hurry.“

  I mounted, and I guided Tiger over onto the trail. I anticipated all manner of reactions to the trail, as I recalled from my father’s story the possibly intimidating effects of the thing upon animals. It didn’t seem to bother him, though, and I released the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

  “In time for what?” I asked as we fou
nd a formation—Luke in the lead, Dalt behind him and to the right, Nayda to the left of the trail, rear, me to her right and somewhat back.

  “I cannot tell for certain,” she said, “because she is still sedated. However, I do know that she is no longer being moved; and I have the impression that her abductors have taken refuge in the tower, where the trail is much wider.”

  “Hm,” I said. “You wouldn’t have happened to notice the rate of change in width per unit of distance traveled on this trail, would you?”

  “I was in liberal arts,” she said, smiling. “Remember?”

  She turned suddenly then, glancing in Luke’s direction. He was still an entire horse’s length ahead, eyes front—though he had looked back moments before.

  “Damn you!” she said softly. “Being with you both this way gets me to thinking about school. Then I start talking that way—”

  “In English,” I said.

  “Did I say that in English?”

  “Yes.”

  “Shit! Help me if you catch me at it, will you?”

  “Of course,” I said. “It seems to show you’d enjoyed it somewhat, despite its being a job Dara’d laid on you. And you’re probably the only ty’iga with a degree from Berkeley.”

  “Yes, I enjoyed it—confused as I was over which of you was which. Those were the happiest days in my life, with you and Luke, back in school. For years I tried to learn your mothers’ names so I’d know who I was supposed to be protecting. You were both so cagey, though.”

  “It’s in the genes, I guess,” I observed. “I enjoyed your company as Vinta Bayle—appreciated your protection as others, too.”

  “I suffered,” she said, “when Luke began his yearly attempts on your life. If he were the son of Dara I was supposed to protect, it shouldn’t have mattered. But it did. I was already very fond of both of you. All I could tell was that you were both of the blood of Amber. I didn’t want either of you harmed. The hardest thing was when you went away, and I was sure Luke had lured you into the mountains of New Mexico to kill you. By then, I suspected very strongly that you were the one, but I was not certain. I was in love with Luke, I had taken over the body of Dan Martinez, and I was carrying a pistol. I followed you everywhere I could, knowing that if he tried to harm you the geas I was under would force me to shoot the man I loved.”

  “You shot first, though. We were just standing talking, by the side of the road. He shot back in self-defense.”

  “I know. But everything seemed to indicate that you were in peril. He’d taken you to a perfect spot for an execution, at an ideal time—”

  “No,” I said. “Your shot went wide, and you left yourself open for what followed.”

  “I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

  “You solved the problem of possibly having to shoot Luke by setting up a situation where he shot you.”

  “I couldn’t do that, under a geas.”

  “Maybe not consciously,” I said. “So something stronger than the geas found a way.”

  “You really believe that?”

  “Yes, and it’s all right for you to admit it now. You’re released from the geas. My mother told me. You told me—I think.”

  She nodded. “I don’t know exactly when it came undone, or how,” she said. “But it’s gone—though I’d still try to protect you if something threatened. It’s good that you and Luke are really friends, and—”

  “So why the secret?” I interrupted. “Why not just tell him you were Gail? Surprise the hell out of him—pleasantly.”

  “You don’t understand,” she said. “He broke up with me, remember? Now I’ve another chance. It’s like it was, all over again. He—likes me a lot. I’m afraid to say, ‘I’m really the girl you once broke up with.’ It might get him to thinking of all the reasons why, and make him decide he was right the first time.”

  “That’s silly,” I said. “I don’t know what reasons he gave. He never told me about it. Just said there’d been an argument. But I’m sure they were specious. I know he liked you. I’m sure he really broke up with you because he was a son of Amber about to come home on some very nasty business, and there was no room for what he thought was a normal shadow girl in the picture. You’d played your part too well.”

  “Is that why you broke up with Julia?” she asked.

  “No,” I said.

  “Sorry.”

  I noticed the black trail had widened about a foot since we’d begun talking. I was in the market for a mathematical problem just then.

  10

  And so we rode—six paces along a city street, amid the blare of horns, our black way edged by skid marks; a quarter mile along a black sand beach, beside a soft green sea, stirring palms to our left; across a tarnished snowfield; beneath a bridge of stone, our way a dead and blackened streambed; then to prairie; back to wooded way—and Tiger never flinched, even when Dalt put a booted foot through a windshield and broke off an antenna.

  The way continued to widen, to perhaps twice its width when I had first come upon it. Stark trees were more common within it now, standing like photographic negatives of their bright mates but a few feet off the trail. While the leaves and branches of these latter were regularly stirred, we felt no wind at all. The sounds of our voices, of our mounts’ hooves, came somehow muted now, also. Our entire course had a constant, wavery twilight atmosphere to it, no matter that a few paces away—which brief excursion we essayed many times—it might be high noon or midnight. Dead-looking birds were perched within the blackened trees, though they seemed on occasion to move, and the raspy, croaking sounds that sometimes came to us may well have been theirs.

  At one time, a fire raged to our right; at another, we seemed to be passing near the foot of a glacier on the left. Our trail continued to widen—nothing like the great Black Road Corwin had described to me from the days of the war, but big enough now for us all to ride abreast.

  “Luke,” I said, after a time.

  “Yeah?” he answered, from my left. Nayda rode to my right now, and Dalt to her right. “What’s up?”

  “I don’t want to be king.”

  “Me neither,” he said. “How hard they pushing you?”

  “I’m afraid they’re going to grab me and crown me if I go back. Everybody in my way died suddenly. They really plan to stick me on the throne, to marry me to Coral—”

  “Uh-huh,” he said, “and I’ve two questions about it. First, will it work?”

  “The Logrus seems to think it will, at least for a time—which is all politics is about, anyhow.”

  “Second,” he said, “if you feel about the place the way I feel about Kashfa, you’re not going to let it go to hell if you can help it—even if it means some personal misery. You don’t want to take the throne, though, so you must have worked out some alternative remedy. What is it?”

  I nodded as the trail turned sharply to the left and headed uphill. Something small and dark scuttled across our path.

  “I’ve a notion—not even a full idea,” I said, “which I want to discuss with my father.”

  “Tall order,” he said. “You know for sure that he’s even alive?”

  “I talked to him not all that long ago—very briefly. He’s a prisoner, somewhere. All I know for sure is that it’s somewhere in the vicinity of the Courts—because I can reach him by Trump from there, but nowhere else.”

  “Tell me about this communication,” he said.

  And so I did, black bird and all.

  “Sounds like busting him out’s going to be tricky,” he said. “And you think your mom’s behind it?”

  “Yep.”

  “I thought I was the only one with these maternal problems. But it figures, seeing as yours trained mine.”

  “How come we turned out so normal?” I said.

  He just stared at me for several seconds. Then he started to laugh.

  “Well, I feel normal,” I said.

  “Of course,” he said quickly then, “and that’s what
counts. Tell me, if it came to an out-and-out crossing of powers, do you think you could beat Dara?”

  “Hard to say,” I told him. “I’m stronger now than I ever was before, because of the spikard. But I’m beginning to believe she’s very good.”

  “What the hell’s a spikard?” So I told him that story, too.

  “That’s why you were so flashy back in the church when you were fighting with Jurt?” he said.

  “That’s right.”

  “Let’s see it.”

  I tried to pull it off, but it wouldn’t pass the knuckle.

  So I simply extended my hand. Luke reached for it. His fingers halted a couple of inches above it.

  “It’s holding me off, Merle. Protective little devil.”

  “Hell,” I said, “I’m not a shapeshifter for nothing.” I took hold of it then, slimmed my finger suddenly, and slid it off. “Here.”

  He held it in the palm of his left hand as we bounced along, regarding it through narrowed eyes. Suddenly, I felt dizzy. Withdrawal symptoms from the thing? I forced myself upright, reversed my breathing, refused to let it show.

  “Heavy,” Luke said at last. “I can feel the power there. Other things, too. It won’t let me in, though.”

  I reached for it and he drew his hand away.

  “I can feel it in the air all around us,” he said. “Merle, this thing lays a spell on anybody who wears it.

  I shrugged.

  “Yes,” I said. “A benign one, though. It’s done nothing to harm me, and it’s helped me a number of times.”

  “But can you trust anything that came to you in such an odd way—almost by trickery, caused you to abandon Frakir when she tried to warn you about it, and for all you know has been influencing your behavior ever since you put it on?”

  “I admit to a kind of disorientation at first,” I said, “but I think that was just in the way of accommodation to the levels of voltage it draws. I’ve been back to normal for some time now.”

  “How can you tell for sure? Maybe it’s brainwashed you.”

  “Do I seem brainwashed to you?”

  “No. I was just trying to say that I wouldn’t completely trust anything with such questionable credentials.”