The Chronicles of Amber

by Roger Zelazny

  “I’m sure. But—”

  “Did you spirit me away?” she interrupted. “Or did you actually fight with Mask to get me free?”

  “We fought,” I said.

  “In what condition did you leave Mask?”

  “Buried under a pile of manure,” I said.

  She chuckled.

  “Wonderful! I like a man with a sense of humor.”

  “I have to go back,” I added.

  “Oh? Why is that?”

  “Because Mask is now allied with an enemy of mine—man named Jurt, who desires my death.”

  She shrugged slightly.

  “If Mask is no match for you, I fail to see where Mask and this man should represent a great problem.” Mandor cleared his throat.

  “Begging your leave,” he said. “But Jurt is a shape shifter and minor sorcerer from the Courts. He also has power over Shadow.”

  “I suppose that would make something of a difference,” she said.

  “Not as much as what the two of them apparently plan to accomplish,” I told her. “I believe that Mask intends running Jurt through the same ritual your late husband undertook—something involving the Fount of Power.”

  “No!” she cried, and she was on her feet, the rest of the wine mixing with Nayda’s spittle and a few old bloodstains on the Tabriz I’d purchased for its delicately detailed pastoral scene. “It must not happen again!”

  A storm came and went behind her eyes. Then, for the first time, she looked vulnerable.

  “I lost him because of that. . . . ” she said.

  Then the moment was gone. The hardness returned.

  “I had not finished my wine,” she said then, reseating herself.

  “I’ll get you another glass,” I told her.

  “And is that a mirror on the table?”

  Chapter 11

  I waited till she was finished primping, glancing out of the window at the snow and surreptitiously trying again to reach Coral or Luke while my back was turned to her.

  No luck, though. When she put down the comb and brush she’d borrowed from me and laid the mirror beside them, I gathered she’d finished organizing her thoughts as well as her hair and was ready to talk again. I turned back slowly and strolled over.

  We studied each other while practicing expressionlessness, then she asked, “Is anyone else in Amber aware that you have awakened me?”

  “No,” I replied.

  “Good. That means I’ve a chance of leaving here alive. Presumably, you want my assistance against Mask and this Jurt?”

  “Yes.”

  “Exactly what sort of help do you desire, and what are you prepared to pay for it?”

  “I intend to penetrate the Keep and neutralize Mask and Jurt,” I said.

  “’Neutralize’? That’s one of those little euphemisms for ‘kill,’ isn’t it?”

  “I suppose so,” I replied.

  “Amber has never been noted for its squeamishness,” she said. “You have been exposed to too much American journalism. So, you are aware of my familiarity with the Keep, and you want my help in killing the two of them. Correct?”

  I nodded.

  “Rinaldo has told me that if we were to arrive too late and Jurt had already undergone the transformational ritual, you might know a way to use that same power against him,” I explained.

  “He’d gotten further into those notes than I’d realized,” she said. “I am going to have to be frank with you then, since our lives may depend on it. Yes, there is such a technique. But no, it won’t be of any help to us. Some preparations are required to turn the power to such an end. It is not something I could simply reach out and do at a moment’s notice.”

  Mandor cleared his throat.

  “I’d rather not see Jurt dead,” he stated, “if there’s a possibility I could take him back to the Courts as a prisoner. He could be disciplined. There might be a way of neutralizing him without really . . . neutralizing him, as you put it.”

  “And if there isn’t?” I asked.

  “Then I’ll help you to kill him,” he said. “I have no illusions about him, but I feel obliged to try something. I’m afraid that the news of his death could push our father over the edge.”

  I looked away. He could be right, and even though old Sawall’s death would mean his own succession to the title and control of considerable holdings, I was certain he was not anxious to acquire them at that price.

  “I understand,” I said. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “So give me a chance to subdue him. If I fail, I’ll join you in whatever must be done.”

  “Agreed,” I said, watching to see how Jasra was taking this.

  She was studying us, a curious expression on her face.

  “‘Our father’?” she said.

  “Yes,” I replied. “I wasn’t going to mention that, but since it got out, Jurt’s our younger brother.”

  Her eyes were alight now, at the scent of connivance.

  “This is a family power struggle, isn’t it?” she asked.

  “I suppose you could put it that way,” I said.

  “Not really,” Mandor said.

  “And yours is an important family in the Courts?”

  Mandor shrugged. So did I. I’d a feeling she was trying to figure a way to cash in on that end of it, too, and I decided to stonewall her.

  “We were discussing the task at hand,” I said. “I want to take us in there and accept Mask’s challenge. We stop Jurt if he gets in the way and give him to Mandor. If it is impossible simply to subdue him, we go the rest of the way. Are you with us?”

  “We have not yet discussed the price,” she said.

  “All right,” I acknowledged. “I’ve talked about this with Rinaldo, and he told me to tell you that he’s called the vendetta off. He feels things were settled with Amber when Caine died. He asked me to release you if you would go along with this, and he suggested that in return for your help against the new lord of the citadel we restore the Keep of the Four Worlds to your sovereignty. Bottom line, as he put it. What do you say?”

  She picked up the goblet and took a long, slow sip. She’d stall, I knew, trying to figure a way to squeeze more out of this deal.

  “You’ve spoken with Rinaldo very recently?” she said.

  “Yes.”

  “I am not clear as to why he is running about with Dalt, rather than being here with us, if he is so much in agreement with this plan.”

  I sighed.

  “Okay, I’ll tell you the story,” I said. “But if you’re with us, I do want to get moving soon.”

  “Proceed,” she said.

  So I recounted the evening’s adventure in Arden, omitting only the fact that Vialle had placed Luke under her protection. Nayda seemed to grow progressively distressed as I told the tale, uttering small whimpering sounds at odd intervals.

  When I was finished, Jasra placed her hand upon Mandor’s arm and rose, brushing him lightly with her hip as she passed, and she went to stand before Nayda.

  “Now tell me why the daughter of a high Begman official is restrained here,” she said.

  “She is possessed of a demon that enjoys interfering in my affairs,” I explained.

  “Really? I’ve often wondered what hobbies demons might pursue,” she observed. “But it seems this particular demon has been trying to say something in which I might be interested. If you would be so good as to free it for a moment’s conversation I promise to consider your offer afterward.”

  “Time is running,” I said.

  “In that case my answer is no,” she told me. “Lock me up someplace and go to the Keep without me.”

  I glanced at Mandor.

  “In that I have not yet agreed to accept your offer,” Jasra continued, “Rinaldo would call this an entertainment expense.”

  “I see no harm in it,” Mandor said.

  “Then let her speak,” I told him.

  “You may talk, ty’iga,” he said.

  Her f
irst words were not addressed to Jasra, however; but to me:

  “Merlin, you have to let me accompany you.”

  I moved around to where I could see her face.

  “No way,” I told her.

  “Why not?” she asked.

  “Because your penchant for protecting me will actually hinder me in a situation where I will probably have to take some chances.”

  “That is my nature,” she responded.

  “And my problem,” I said. “I mean you no ill. I’ll be glad to talk to you when this is all over, but you’re going to have to sit this one out.”

  Jasra cleared her throat.

  “Is that the entire message? Or is there something you wished to tell me, also?” Jasra asked.

  There followed a long silence, then, “Will you be accompanying them or not?” Nayda inquired.

  Jasra took just as long to respond, obviously weighing her words:

  “This is a clandestine, personal operation,” she said. “I am not at all certain it would be countenanced by Merlin’s seniors here in Amber. While it is true that I stand to gain if I cooperate, I will also undergo considerable risk. Of course, I want my freedom and the restoration of the Keep. It is almost a fair trade. But he also asks a quitclaim on the vendetta. What assurance have I that this means anything here, and that the hierarchy of Amber will not hunt me down as a troublemaker afterward? He cannot speak for the others when he operates on the sly this way.”

  Somehow, it had become a question addressed to me, and since it was a very good question to which I did not really have an answer, I was glad that the ty’iga had something to say:

  “I believe that I can persuade you that it would be in your best interest to agree to accompany them and to render every assistance you can,” she offered.

  “Pray, begin,” Jasra told her.

  “I would have to speak with you in private on this matter.”

  Jasra smiled, out of her love for intrigue, I am certain.

  “It is agreeable to me,” she said.

  “Mandor, force her to say it now,” I said.

  “Wait!” Jasra declared. “I will have this private conversation or you can forget about my help.”

  I began wondering just how much help Jasra really represented if she couldn’t call upon the Fount to dispose of Jurt, should that become our biggest problem. True, she knew the Keep. But I didn’t even know for certain how accomplished a sorceress she might be.

  On the other hand, I wanted this thing settled now, and one more adept could make the difference.

  “Nayda,” I said, “are you planning something that could be damaging to Amber?”

  “No,” she replied.

  “Mandor, what do ty’iga swear by?” I inquired.

  “They don’t,” he said.

  “What the hell,” I said. “How much time do you want?”

  “Give us ten minutes,” she told me.

  “Let’s take a walk,” I said to Mandor.

  “Surely,” he agreed, tossing another metal ball toward Nayda. It joined the others in orbit about her, a little above waist level.

  I fetched a key from my desk drawer before departing. And as soon as we were in the hall I asked him, “Is there any way Jasra could free her?”

  “Not with the additional circuit of confinement I established on the way out,” he replied. “Not many could figure a way past it, and certainly not in ten minutes.”

  “She’s just full of secrets, that damned ty’iga,” I said. “Kind of makes me wonder who’s really the prisoner here.”

  “She’s only trading some bit of knowledge for Jasra’s cooperation,” he said. “She wants the lady to accompany us if she can’t go herself, since it will mean extra protection for you.”

  “Then why can’t we be present?”

  “Nothing that I learned from her sheds any light on this,” he said.

  “Well, since I have a few minutes, there is a small errand I want to run. Would you keep an eye on things here and take charge if she calls us in before I get back?”

  He smiled.

  “If one of your relatives strolls by, should I introduce myself as a lord of Chaos?”

  “I thought you were also a lord of deception.”

  “Of course,” he said, and he clapped his hands and vanished.

  “I’ll hurry,” I said.

  “Cheerio,” came his voice, from somewhere.

  I hurried off up the hall. It was a little pilgrimage, I suppose—one that I had not made in a long while. On the brink of an enterprise such as this, it seemed somehow appropriate.

  When I reached the door, I stood outside it for a moment, my eyes closed, visualizing the interior as last I had seen it. It was my father’s apartment. I had wandered through it on many occasions, trying to judge from the furnishings, the layout, his bookshelves, and his curious collections something more than I already knew about the man. There was always some little thing that caught my attention, that answered a question or raised a new one—an inscription on the flyleaf of a book or a note in a margin, a silver hairbrush bearing the wrong set of initials, a daguerreotype of an attractive brunette signed “To Carl, Love, Carolyn,” a snapshot of my father shaking hands with General MacArthur. . . .

  I unlocked the door and pushed it open.

  I did not move for several seconds, however, as a light glowed inside the place. For more long moments I listened, but there were no sounds from within. Slowly then, I entered. A number of candles burned upon the dresser set against the far wall. There was no one in sight.

  “Hello?” I called out. “It’s me. Merlin.” There came no answer.

  I drew the door closed behind me and moved forward. A bud vase stood upon the dresser amid the candles. It contained a single rose, and it appeared to be silver in color. I drew nearer. Yes, it was real, not artificial. And it was silver. In what shadow did such flowers grow?

  I picked up one of the candles by its holder and moved away with it, shielding its flame with my hand. I crossed to my left and entered the next room. Immediately, on opening the door, I saw that there was no need to have brought the candle. More of them were burning here.

  “Hello?” I repeated.

  Again, no answer. No sounds of any sort.

  I set the candle upon a nearby table and crossed to the bed. I raised a sleeve and let it fall. A silvery shirt was laid out upon the counterpane beside a black pair of trousers—my father’s colors. They had not been there when last I had visited.

  I seated myself beside them and stared across the room into a shadowy corner. What was going on? Some bizarre household ritual? A haunting? or. . . .

  “Corwin?” I said.

  In that I’d hardly expected a reply, I was not disappointed. When I rose, however, I bumped against a heavy object hung upon the nearest bedpost. I reached out and raised it for a better view. A belt with a sheathed weapon hung upon it. These had not been present last time either. I gripped the haft and drew the blade.

  A portion of the Pattern, contained within the gray metal, danced in the candlelight. This was Grayswandir, sword of my father. What it was doing back here now, I had no idea.

  And I realized with a pang that I could not stick around to see what might be going on. I had to get back to my own problems. Yes, timing was definitely against me today.

  I resheathed Grayswandir.

  “Dad?” I said. “If you can hear me, I want to get together again. But I have to go now. Good luck on whatever you’re about.”

  Then I departed the room, touched the silver rose as I passed and locked the door behind me. As I turned away, I realized that I was shaking.

  I passed no one on the walk back, and when I approached my own door I wondered whether I should enter, knock, or wait. Then something touched my shoulder, and I turned around but no one was there. When I turned forward once again Mandor stood before me, his brow slightly creased.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked. “You appear more troubled than w
hen you left.”

  “Something totally different,” I told him, “I think. Any word from inside yet?”

  “I heard a shriek from Jasra while you were gone,” he said, “and I turned to the door and opened it. But she was laughing and she asked me to close it.”

  “Either ty’igas know some good stories or the news is favorable.”

  “So it would seem.”

  A little later the door opened and Jasra nodded to us.

  “Our conversation is concluded,” she said.

  I studied her as I entered the room. She looked a lot more cheerful than she had seemed when we’d left. There was a bit more of a crinkling about the outer edges of her eyes, and she seemed almost to be fighting the corners of her mouth down into place.

  “I hope it was a fruitful interview,” I said.

  “Yes. On the whole, I’d say it was that,” she answered.

  A glance at Nayda showed me that nothing had changed in terms of her position or expression.

  “I’ll have to be asking you for a decision now,” I said. “I can’t afford to cut things much closer than this.”

  “What happens if I say no?” she asked.

  “I’ll have you conducted to your quarters and inform the others that you’re up and about,” I said.

  “As a guest?”

  “As a very well-protected guest.”

  “I see. Well, I do not really care to inspect those quarters. I have decided to accompany you and assist you under the terms we discussed.”

  I bowed to her.

  “Merlin!” Nayda said.

  “No!” I answered, and I looked to Mandor. He approached and stood before Nayda.

  “It is best that you sleep now,” he told her, and her eyes closed, her shoulders slumped. “Where is a good place for her to rest deeply?” he asked me.

  “Through there,” I said, indicating the doorway to the next room.

  He took her by the hand and led her away. After a time, I heard him speaking softly, and then there was only silence. He emerged a little later, and I went to the door and glanced inside. She was stretched out on my bed. I did not see any of his metal spheres in the neighborhood.