The Chronicles of Amber

by Roger Zelazny

Seconds later, my arm was released as the fur of its neck and head caught fire and it struggled to draw away from the flames. I was thrust aside as it rose and pulled free, an ear-piercing howl rising from its throat. I rolled to my knees and raised my hands, but it did not come at me again. Instead, it rushed past me into the woods in the opposite direction from which it had come.

  I snatched up my blade and took off after it. No time to pause and pull on my boots; I was able to shapeshift the soles of my feet a bit to toughen them against the litter and irregularity of the forest floor. My adversary was still in sight, for its head still smoldered; though I might have been able to follow just from the howling, which was almost continuous. And strangely, the tone and character of the howls was changing, sounding more and more like human cries and less like the complaint of a wolf. Strangely, too, the beast was fleeing with something less than the speed and guile I would have expected from one of its kind. I heard it crashing through the shrubbery and running into trees. On several of these latter occasions, it even emitted sounds that seemed to bear the pattern of human cursing. So I was able to stay closer to it than I had any reason to expect, even gaining on it somewhat after the first few minutes.

  Then, suddenly, I realized its apparent destination. I saw again that pale light I had noted earlier—brighter now and its source larger, as we moved toward it. Roughly rectangular in shape, I judged it as being eight or nine feet in height, perhaps five in width. I forgot about tracking the wolf by ear and headed for the light. That had to be its goal, and I wanted to reach it first.

  I ran on. The wolf was ahead of me and to my left. Its hair had ceased to blaze now, though it still snarled and yipped as it rushed along. Before us, the light grew brighter still, and I was able to see into it—through it and distinguish some of its features for the first time. I saw a hillside with a low stone building upon it, approached by a flagged walkway and a series of stone steps-framed like a picture within the rectangle—hazy at first, but coming clearer with each step. It was a cloudy afternoon within the picture, and the thing stood about twenty meters away now, in the midst of a clearing.

  I realized as I saw the beast burst into the clearing that I was not going to be able to reach the place in time to snatch up the thing I knew must lie nearby. Still, I thought I might have a chance of catching the creature and halting its passage.

  But it put on additional speed once it was in the clear. I could see the scene toward which it was headed more clearly than anything else in the vicinity. I shouted to distract it, but that did not work. My final burst of speed was not good enough. Then, on the ground, near the threshold, I saw what I was looking for. Too late. Even as I watched, the beast lowered its head and caught up in its teeth a flat rectangular object, without even breaking stride.

  I halted and turned away as it plunged ahead, dropping my blade as I dove, rolling, continuing to roll.

  I felt the force of the silent explosion, followed by the implosion and the small series of shock waves. I lay there thinking nasty thoughts until the turmoil had ceased; then I rose and retrieved my weapon.

  The night was normal about me once again. Starlight. The wind in the pines. There was no need for me to turn, though I did, to know that the thing toward which I had been racing but moments before was now gone, without leaving any sign that it had been there, bright doorway to another place.

  I hiked back to my camp and spent a while talking to Smoke, calming him. I donned my boots and cloak then, kicked dirt over the embers in my pit, and led the horse back to the road.

  I mounted there and we moved on up the road toward Amber for the better part of an hour, before I settled upon a new campsite under a bone-white piece of moon.

  The rest of my night was untroubled. I was awakened by increased light and morning bird calls through the pines. I took care of Smoke, breakfasted quickly on the remains of my rations, put myself in the best order I could and was on my way within half an hour.

  It was a cool morning, with banks of cumulus far off to my left, clear skies overhead. I did not hurry. My main reason for riding back rather than trumping home was to learn a little more of what this area near Amber was like, and the other was to gain a bit of solitude for thinking. With Jasra a prisoner, Luke in sick bay and Ghostwheel occupied it seemed that any major threats to Amber or myself were in abeyance, and a small breathing spell could be justified. I felt that I was actually near to a point where I could handle everything personally with regard to Luke and Jasra, as soon as I’d worked out a few more details. And I was certain I could deal with Ghost after that, as I’d found our most recent conversation somewhat encouraging.

  That was the big stuff. I could worry about loose ends later. A two-bit wizard like Sharu Garrul was only a pain when considered in conjunction with everything else that was troubling me. Dueling with him would be no problem when I had a bit of leisure—though I had to admit I was puzzled as to why he should be interested in me at all.

  Then there was the matter of the entity which had for a time been Vinta. While I saw no real threat in it, there was certainly a mystery which affected my peace of mind, and which seemed ultimately to have something to do with my security. This, too, was a matter to be dealt with when that bit of leisure finally came along.

  And Luke’s offer to reveal a piece of information vital to Amber’s security, once Jasra was rescued, troubled me. Because I believed him, and I believed he’d keep his word. I had a hunch, though, that he wouldn’t be giving it away unless it was too late to do much about it. Guesswork was, of course, futile; there was no way of knowing what preparations would be appropriate. Was the offer itself, no matter how authentic, also a bit of psychological warfare? Luke had always been more subtle than his bluff exterior seemed to indicate. It had taken me a long time to learn that, and I wasn’t about to forget it now.

  I felt I could discount the business of the blue stones for the moment, and I planned soon to be rid of all traces of their vibes. No problem there, other than a mental string around the finger for extra wariness, just in case—and I was already in that frame of mind, had been for some time.

  That left the business of last night’s wolf to be fitted into the bigger picture.

  Obviously, it had been no normal beast, and its intent had been apparent enough. Other matters concerning its visit were less than clear, however. Who or what was it? Was it a principal or an agent? And, if the latter, who had sent it? And finally, finally, why?

  Its clumsiness indicated to me—since I had tried that sort of business myself in the past—that it was a shapeshifted human rather than a true wolf magically gifted with speech. Most people who daydream of transforming themselves into some vicious beast and going about tearing people’s throats out, dismembering them, disfiguring them and perhaps devouring them tend mainly to dwell upon how much fun it would be and generally neglect the practicalities of the situation. When you find yourself a quadruped, with a completely different center of gravity and a novel array of sensory input, it is not all that easy to get around for a time with any measure of grace. One is generally far more vulnerable than one’s appearance would lead others to believe. And certainly one is nowhere near as lethal and efficient as the real thing with a lifetime of practice behind it. No. I’ve always tended to think of it more as a terrorist tactic than anything else.

  Be that how it may, the manner of the beast’s coming and going was actually the main cause of my trepidation concerning the entire affair. It had employed a Trump Gate, which is not a thing one does lightly—or at all, for that matter, if it can be avoided. It is a flashy and spectacular thing, to make Trump contact with some distant place and then pour tons of power into the objectification of such a gateway as a form possessed for a time of an independent existence. It is exceedingly profligate of energy and effort—even a hellrun is much easier—to create one which will stand for even fifteen minutes. It can drain most of your resources for a long while. Yet this was what had occurred. The reason behind it did
not trouble me, as much as the fact that it had happened at all. For the only people capable of the feat were genuine initiates of the Trumps. It couldn’t be done by someone who just happened to come into possession of a card.

  Which narrowed the field considerably.

  I tried to picture the werebeast about its errand. First, it would have to locate me and—

  Of course. I suddenly recalled the dead dogs in the grove near Arbor House and the large doglike tracks in the vicinity. The thing had spotted me sometime before, then, and had been watching, waiting. It had followed me when I set out yesterday evening, and when I made my camp it made its move. It set up—or was set up with—the Trump Gate, for a retreat that would brook no pursuit. Then it came to kill me. And I had no way of telling whether it involved Sharu Garrul, Luke’s secret, the blue stones or the body-switching entity’s mission. For now it would simply have to dangle as yet another loose end, while I concentrated on basics.

  I overtook and passed a line of wagons headed for Amber. A few horsed men went by me headed in the other direction. No one I knew, though everyone waved. The clouds continued to mount to my left, but nothing resembling a storm took shape. The day remained cool and sunny. The road dipped and rose again, several times, though overall it rose more than it dipped. I stopped at a large, busy inn for lunch, had a quick, filling meal and did not linger. The road improved steadily after that, and it was not long before I caught distant glimpses of Amber atop Kolvir, sparkling in the noonday light.

  Traffic grew heavier as the sun advanced through the heavens. I continued to make plans and indulge in whatever speculations came to mind as I rode on into afternoon. My uphill way took several turnings as the route passed through the heights, but Amber remained in sight most of the time.

  I recognized no one along the way, and I reached the Eastern Gate—part of an ancient fortification—late in the afternoon. I made my way up East Vine and stopped at the Bayle town house, where I had once attended a party. I left Smoke with a groom at the stable in the rear, and they both seemed happy to see each other. I walked around to the front door then and knocked. A servant informed me that the Baron was out, so I identified myself and gave him Vinta’s message, which he promised to deliver when his employer returned.

  That duty out of the way, I proceeded up East Vine on foot. Near the top, but before the slope grew roughly level, I smelled food and discarded my plan of waiting to eat until I was back at the palace. I halted and cast about me for the source of the aromas. I located it up a side street to my right where the way widened into a large circle, a fountain at its center in which a rearing copper dragon with a wonderful green patina pissed into a pink stone basin. The dragon faced a basement restaurant called the Pit, with ten outside tables enclosed by a low fence of copper pickets, potted plants along its inside perimeter. I crossed the circle. As I passed the fountain I saw a great number of exotic coins within its clear water, including a U.S. Bicentennial quarter. Crossing to the fenced area, I entered, made my way through and was about to descend the stair when I heard my name called.

  “Merle! Over here!”

  I looked about but did not see anyone I recognized at any of the four occupied tables. Then, as my eyes retraced their route, I realized that the older man at the corner table to my right was smiling.

  “Bill!” I exclaimed.

  Bill Roth rose to his feet—more a touch of display than any formality, I realized immediately. I hadn’t recognized him at first because he now sported the beginnings of a grizzled beard and a mustache. Also, he had on brown trousers with a silver stripe running down their outside seams, vanishing into a pair of high brown boots. His shirt was silver with brown piping, and a black cloak lay folded upon the chair to his right. A wide black sword belt lay atop it and a sheathed blade of short-to-medium length was hung upon it.

  “You’ve gone native. Also, you’ve lost some weight.”

  “True,” he said, “and I’m thinking of retiring here. It agrees with me.”

  We seated ourselves.

  “Did you order yet?” I asked him.

  “Yes, but I see a waiter on the stair now,” he said. “Let me catch him for you.”

  Which he did, and ordered for me too.

  “Your Thari’s much better,” I said afterward.

  “Lots of practice,” he replied.

  “What’ve you been doing?”

  “I’ve sailed with Gerard. I’ve been to Deiga, and to one of Julian’s camps in Arden. Visited Rebma, too. Fascinating place. I’ve been taking fencing lessons. And Droppa’s been showing me around town.”

  “All the bars, most likely.”

  “Well, that’s not all. In fact, that’s why I’m here. He owns a half interest in the Pit, and I had to promise him I’d eat here a lot. A good place, though. When did you get back?”

  “Just now,” I said, “and I’ve another long story for you.”

  “Good. Your stories tend to be bizarre and convoluted,” he said. “Just the thing for a cool autumn’s eve. Let’s hear it.”

  I talked throughout dinner and for a long while afterward. The day’s-end chill began making it uncomfortable then, so we headed for the palace. I finally wound up my narrative over hot cider in front of the fireplace in one of the smaller rooms in the eastern wing.

  Bill shook his head. “You do manage to stay busy,” he finally said. “I have just one question.”

  “What?”

  “Why didn’t you bring Luke in?”

  “I already told you.”

  “It wasn’t much of a reason. For some nebulous piece of information he says is important to Amber? And you’ve got to catch him to get it?”

  “It’s not like that at all.”

  “He’s a salesman, Merle, and he sold you a line of shit. That’s what I think.”

  “You’re wrong, Bill. I know him.”

  “For a long time,” he agreed. “But how well? We’ve been all through this before. What you don’t know about Luke far outweighs what you do know.”

  “He could have gone elsewhere, but he came to me.”

  “You’re part of his plan, Merle. He intends to get at Amber through you.”

  “I don’t think so,” I said. “It’s not his style.”

  “I think he’ll use anything that comes to hand—or anyone.”

  I shrugged. “I believe him. You don’t. That’s all.”

  “I guess so,” he said. “What are you going to do now, wait and see what happens?”

  “I’ve a plan,” I said. “Just because I believe him doesn’t mean I won’t take out insurance. But I’ve a question for you.”

  “Yes?”

  “If I brought him back here and Random decided the facts weren’t clear enough and he wanted a hearing, would you represent Luke?”

  His eyes widened, and then he smiled. “What kind of hearing?” he asked. “I don’t know how such things are conducted here.”

  “As a grandson of Oberon,” I explained, “he’d come under House Law. Random is head of the House now. It would be up to him whether to forget about a thing, render a summary judgment or call a hearing. As I understand it, such a hearing could be as formal or informal as Random wanted. There are books on the subject in the library. But a person has always had the right to be represented at one if he wanted.”

  “Of course I’d take the case,” Bill said. “It doesn’t sound like a legal experience that comes along too often.

  “But it might look like a conflict of interest,” he added, “since I have done work for the Crown.”

  I finished my cider and put the glass on the mantelpiece. I yawned. “I have to go now, Bill.”

  He nodded, then, “This is all just hypothetical, isn’t it?” he asked.

  “Of course,” I said. “It might turn out to be my hearing. G’night.”

  He studied me. “Uh—this insurance you were talking about,” he said. “It probably involves something risky, doesn’t it?”

  I smiled.


  “Nothing anyone could help you with, I suppose?”

  “Nope.”

  “Well, good luck.”

  “Thanks.”

  “See you tomorrow?”

  “Later in the day, maybe. . . . ”

  I went to my room and sacked out. I had to get some rest before I went about the business I had in mind. I don’t recall any dreams, pro or con, on the matter.

  It was still dark when I woke. Good to know that my mental alarm was working.

  It would have been very pleasant to turn over and go back to sleep, but I couldn’t allow myself the luxury. The day that lay ahead was to be an exercise in timing. Accordingly, I got up, cleaned up and dressed myself in fresh clothes.

  I headed for the kitchen then, where I made myself some tea and toast and scrambled a few eggs with chilis and onions and a bit of pepper. I turned up some melka fruit from the Snelters, too—something I hadn’t had in a long while.

  Afterward, I went out through the rear and made my way into the garden. Dark it was, moonless and damp, with a few wisps of mist exploring invisible paths. I followed a path to the northwest. The world was a very quiet place. I let my thoughts get that way, too. It was to be a one-thing-at-a-time day, and I wanted to start it off with that habit of mind in place.

  I walked until I ran out of garden, passing through a break in a hedge and continuing along the rough trail my path had become. It mounted slowly for the first few minutes, took an abrupt turn and grew immediately steeper. I paused at one jutting point and looked back, from where I was afforded a view of the dark outline of the palace, a few lighted windows within it. Some scatters of cirrus high above looked like raked starlight in the celestial garden over which Amber brooded. I turned away moments later. There was still a good distance to travel.

  When I reached the crest I was able to discern a faint line of lightening to the east, beyond the forest I had traversed so recently. I hurried past the three massive steps of song and story and began my descent to the north. Slow at first, the way I followed steepened abruptly after a time and led off to the northeast, then into a gentler decline. When it swung back to the northwest there was another steep area followed by another easy one, and I knew the going would be fine after that. The high shoulder of Kolvir at my back blocked all traces of the pre-dawn light I had witnessed earlier, and star-hung night lay before me and above, rubbing outlines to ambiguity on all but the nearest boulders. Still, I knew approximately where I was going, having been this way once before, though I’d only halted briefly at that time.