Seven Tales in Amber

by Roger Zelazny

  “I still don’t know exactly how it works. I’m going to have to practice some with it.”

  Uh—why are you here? I asked.

  “Had to talk to Vialle about a number of things,” he said, “and she told me that Corwin might be by soon—and she offered me room and board if I wanted to wait for him for a few days.”

  Well, if you can wear me till he gets here maybe I can persuade him to take me with him. I’ve a feeling he’ll be seeing Merlin again soon.

  “I might, too, but it’s hard to say at this point.”

  Okay. We can work it out when the time comes.

  “What do you think is going on, anyway?”

  Some horrible Wagnerian thing, I told him, full of blood, thunder, and death for us all.

  “Oh, the usual,” Luke said.

  Exactly, I replied.

  Hall of Mirrors

  Corwin discovers that traveling through the Dancing Mountains made him the subject of an unusual spell. He returns to Amber Castle and meets Luke, and they enter the Hall of Mirrors and are forced to duel.

  Neither of us realized there had been a change until a half-dozen guys tried an ambush.

  We had spent the night in the Dancing Mountains, Shask and I, where I’d witnessed a bizarre game between Dworkin and Suhuy. I’d heard strange tales about things that happened to people who spent the night there, but I hadn’t had a hell of a lot of choice in the matter. It had been storming, I was tired, and my mount had become a statue. I don’t know how that game turned out, though I was mentioned obliquely as a participant and I’m still wondering.

  The next morning my blue horse Shask and I had crossed the Shadow Divide ’twixt Amber and Chaos. Shask was a Shadow mount my son Merlin had found for me in the royal stables of the Courts. At the moment, Shask was traveling under the guise of a giant blue lizard, and we were singing songs from various times and places.

  Two men rose on either side of the trail from amid rocky cover, pointing crossbows at us. Two more stepped out before us—one with a bow, the other bearing a rather beautiful looking blade, doubtless stolen, considering the guy’s obvious profession.

  “Halt! and no harm’ll happen,” said the swordsman.

  I drew rein.

  “When it comes to money, I’m pretty much broke right now,” I said, “and I doubt any of you could ride my mount, or would care to.”

  “Well now, maybe and maybe not,” said the leader, “but it’s a rough way to make a living, so we take whatever we can.”

  “It’s not a good idea to leave a man with nothing,” I said. “Some people hold grudges.”

  “Most of them can’t walk out of here.”

  “Sounds like a death sentence to me.”

  He shrugged.

  “That sword of yours looks pretty fancy,” he said. “Let’s see it.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I said.

  “Why not?”

  “If I draw it, I may wind up killing you,” I said.

  He laughed.

  “We can take it off your body,” he said, glancing to his right and left.

  “Maybe,” I said.

  “Let’s see it.”

  “If you insist.”

  I drew Grayswandir with a singing note. It persisted, and the eyes of the swordsman before me widened as it went on to describe an arc calculated to intersect with his neck. His own weapon came out as mine passed through his neck and continued. His cut toward Shask and passed through the animal’s shoulder. Neither blow did any damage whatsoever.

  “You a sorcerer?” he asked as I swung again, delivering a blow that might have removed his arm. Instead, it passed harmlessly by.

  “Not the kind who does things like this. You?”

  “No,” he answered, striking again. “What’s going on?”

  I slammed Grayswandir back into the scabbard.

  “Nothing,” I said. “Go bother someone else.”

  I shook the reins, and Shask moved forward.

  “Shoot him down!” the man cried.

  The men on either side of the trail released their crossbow bolts, as did the other man before me. All four bolts from the sides passed through Shask, three of the men injuring or killing their opposite numbers. The one from ahead passed through me without pain or discomfort. An attempted sword blow achieved nothing for my first assailant.

  “Ride on,” I said.

  Shask did so and we ignored their swearing as we went.

  “We seem to have come into a strange situation,” I observed.

  The beast nodded.

  “At least it kept us out of some trouble,” I said.

  “Funny. I’d a feeling you would have welcomed trouble,” Shask said.

  I chuckled.

  “Perhaps, perhaps not,” I replied. “I wonder how long the spell lasts?”

  “Maybe it has to be lifted.”

  “Shit! That’s always a pain.”

  “Beats being insubstantial.”

  “True.”

  “Surely someone back at Amber will know what to do.”

  “Hope so.”

  We rode on, and we encountered no one else that day. I felt the rocks beneath me when I wrapped myself in my cloak to sleep that night. Why did I feel them when I didn’t feel a sword or a crossbow bolt? Too late to ask Shask whether he had felt anything, for he had turned to stone for the night.

  I yawned and stretched. A partly unsheathed Grayswandir felt normal beneath my fingers. I pushed it back in and went to sleep.

  Following my morning ablutions, we rode again. Shask was taking well to hell-rides, as well as most Amber mounts did. Better, in some ways. We raced through a wildly changing landscape. I thought ahead to Amber, and I thought back to the time I’d spent imprisoned in the Courts. I had honed my sensitivity to a very high degree through meditation, and I began to wonder whether that, coupled with other strange disciplines I’d undertaken, could have led to my intangibility. I supposed it might have contributed, but I’d a feeling the Dancing Mountains were the largest donor.

  “I wonder what it represents and where it came from?” I said aloud.

  “Your homeland, I’d bet,” Shask replied, “left especially for you.”

  “Why did you read it that way?”

  “You’ve been telling me about your family as we rode along. I wouldn’t trust them.”

  “Those days are past.”

  “Who knows what might have happened while you were away? Old habits return easily.”

  “One would need a reason for something like that.”

  “For all you know, one of them has a very good one.”

  “Possibly. But it doesn’t seem likely. I’ve been away for some time, and few know I’m free at last.”

  “Then question those few.”

  “We’ll see.”

  “Just trying to be helpful.”

  “Don’t stop. Say, what do you want to do after we get to Amber?”

  “Haven’t made up my mind yet. I’ve been something of a wanderer.”

  I laughed.

  “You’re a beast after my own heart. In that your sentiments are most unbeastlike, how can I repay you for this transport?”

  “Wait. I’ve a feeling the Fates will take care of that.”

  “So be it. In the meantime, though, if you happen to think of something special, let me know.”

  “It’s a privilege to help you, Lord Corwin. Let it go at that.”

  “All right. Thanks.”

  We passed through shadow after shadow. Suns ran backward and storms assailed us out of beautiful skies. We toyed with night, which might have trapped a less adroit pair than us, found a twilight, and took our rations there. Shortly thereafter, Shask turned back to stone. Nothing attacked us that night, and my dreams were hardly worth dreaming.

  Next day we were on our way early, and I used every trick I knew to shortcut us through Shadow on our way home. Home … It did feel good to be headed back, despite Shask’s comment
s on my relatives. I’d no idea I would miss Amber as much as I had. I’d been away far longer on countless occasions, but usually I had at least a rough idea as to when I might be heading back. A prison in the Courts, though, was not a place from which one might make such estimates.

  So we tore on, wind across a plain, fire in the mountains, water down a steep ravine. That evening I felt the resistance begin, the resistance which comes when one enters that area of Shadow near to Amber. I tried to make it all the way but failed. We spent that night at a place near to where the Black Road used to run. There was no trace of it now.

  The next day the going was slower, but, more and more, familiar shadows cropped up. That night we slept in Arden, but Julian did not find us. I either dreamed his hunting horn or heard it in the distance as I slept; and though it is often prelude to death and destruction, it merely made me feel nostalgic. I was finally near to home.

  The next morning I woke before sun-up. Shask, of course, was still a blue lizard curled at the base of a giant tree. So I made tea and ate an apple afterward. We were low on provisions but should soon be in the land of plenty.

  Shask slowly unwound as the sun came up. I fed him the rest of the apples and gathered my possessions.

  We were riding before too long, slow and easy, since there would be some hard climbing up the back route I favored. During our first break I asked him to become once more a horse, and he obliged. It didn’t seem to make that much difference, and I requested he maintain it. I wanted to display his beauty in that form.

  “Will you be heading right back after you’ve seen me here?” I asked.

  “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that,” he responded. “Things have been slow back in the Courts, and I’m no one’s assigned mount.”

  “Oh?”

  “You’re going to need a good mount, Lord Corwin.”

  “Yes, I’m sure.”

  “I’d like to apply for the job, for an indefinite period.”

  “I’d be honored,” I said. “You’re very special.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  We were atop Kolvir that afternoon and onto the grounds of Amber Palace within hours after that. I found Shask a good stall, groomed him, fed him, and left him to turn to stone at his leisure. I found a nameplate, scratched Shask’s name and my own upon it, and tacked it to his door.

  “See you later,” I said.

  “Whatever, Lord. Whatever.”

  I departed the stables and headed for the palace. It was a damp, cloudy day, with a chill breeze from the direction of the sea. So far, no one had spotted me.

  I entered by way of the kitchen, where there was new help on duty. None of them recognized me, though they obviously realized that I belonged. At least, they returned my greeting with due respect and did not object to some fruit I pocketed. They did ask whether I cared to have something sent to one of the rooms, and I answered “yes” and told them to send a bottle of wine and a chicken along with it. The afternoon head chef—a red-haired lady named Clare—began studying me more closely, and more than once her gaze drifted toward the silver rose on my cloak. I did not want to announce my identity just then, and I thought they’d be a little afraid to guess ahead at it, at least for a few hours. I did want the time to rest a bit and just enjoy the pleasure of being back. So, “Thanks,” I said, and I went on my way to my quarters.

  I started up the back stairs the servants use for being unobtrusive and the rest of us for being sneaky.

  Partway up, I realized that the way was blocked by saw-horses. Tools lay scattered about the stairs though there were no workmen in sight—and I couldn’t tell whether a section of old stair had simply given way or whether some other force had been brought to bear upon it.

  I returned, cut around to the front, and took the big stairway up. As I made my way, I saw signs of exterior repair work, including entire walls and sections of flooring. Any number of apartments were open to viewing. I hurried to make sure that mine was not among their number.

  Fortunately, it was not. I was about to let myself in when a big red-haired fellow turned a corner and headed toward me. I shrugged. Some visiting dignitary, no doubt …

  “Corwin!” he called out. “What are you doing here?”

  As he drew nearer, I saw that he was studying me most intently. I gave him the same treatment.

  “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure,” I said.

  “Aw, come on, Corwin,” he said. “You surprised me. Thought you were off by your Pattern and the ’57 Chevy.”

  I shook my head.

  “Not sure what you’re talking about,” I said.

  He narrowed his eyes.

  “You’re not a Pattern ghost?” he said.

  “Merlin told me something about them,” I said, “after he effected my release at the Courts. But I don’t believe I’ve ever met one.” I rolled up my left sleeve. “Cut me. I bleed,” I said.

  As he studied my arm, his gaze appeared more than a little serious. For a moment, I thought he’d actually take me up on it.

  “All right,” he said then. “Just a nick. For security purposes.”

  “I still don’t know who I’m talking to,” I said.

  He bowed. “Sorry. I am Luke of Kashfa, sometimes known as Rinaldo I, its king. If you are who you say you are, I am your nephew. My dad was your brother Brand.”

  Studying him, I saw the resemblance. I thrust my arm farther forward.

  “Do it,” I said.

  “You’re serious.”

  “Dead right.”

  He drew a Bowie knife from his belt then and looked into my eyes. I nodded. He moved to touch my forearm with its tip and nothing happened. That is to say, something happened, but it was neither desired nor wholly anticipated.

  The point of his blade seemed to sink a halfinch or so into my arm. It kept going then, finally passing all the way through. But no blood came.

  He tried again. Nothing.

  “Damn,” he said. “I don’t understand. If you were a Pattern ghost, we’d at least get a flare. But there’s not even a mark on you.”

  “May I borrow the blade?” I asked.

  “Sure.”

  He passed it to me. I took it in my hand and studied it, I pushed it into my arm and drew it along for perhaps threequarters of an inch. Blood oozed.

  “I’ll be damned,” Luke said. “What’s going on?”

  “I’d say it’s a spell I picked up when I spent a night in the Dancing Mountains recently,” I replied.

  “Hm,” Luke mused, “I’ve never had the pleasure, but I’ve heard stories of the place. I don’t know any simple ways to break its spells. My room’s off toward the front.” He gestured southward. “If you’d care to stop by, I’ll see what I can figure out about it. I studied Chaos magic with my dad, and with my mother, Jasra.”

  I shrugged.

  “This is my room right here,” I said, “and I’ve a chicken and a bottle of wine on the way up. Let’s do the diagnosis in here, and I’ll split the meal with you.”

  He smiled.

  “Best offer I’ve had all day,” he said. “But let me stop back at my room for some tools of the trade.”

  “All right. I’ll walk you back, so I’ll know the way in case I need it.”

  He nodded and turned. We headed up the hall.

  Turning the corner, we moved from west to east, passing Flora’s apartments and moving in the direction of some of the better visitors’ quarters. Luke halted before one room and reached into his pocket, presumably after the key. Then he halted.

  “Uh, Corwin?” he said.

  “What?” I responded.

  “Those two big cobra-shaped candle holders,” he said, gesturing up the hall. “Bronze, I believe.”

  “Most likely. What of them?”

  “I thought they were just hall decorations.”

  “That’s what they are.”

  “The last time I looked at them, they kind of bracketed a small painting or tapestry,” he said
.

  “My recollection, too,” I said.

  “Well, there seems to be a corridor between them now.”

  “No, that can’t be. There’s a proper hallway just a little beyond—” I began. Then I shut up because I knew. I began walking toward it.

  “What’s going on?” Luke asked.

  “It’s calling me,” I said. “I’ve got to go and see what it wants.”

  “What is it?”

  “The Hall of Mirrors. It comes and goes. It brings sometimes useful, sometimes ambiguous messages to the one it calls.”

  “Is it calling us both, or just you?” Luke said.

  “Dunno,” I replied. “I feel it calling me, as it has in the past. You’re welcome to come with me. Maybe it has some goodies for you, too.”

  “You ever hear of two people taking it at once?”

  “No, but there’s a first time for everything,” I said.

  Luke nodded slowly. “What the hell,” he said, “I’m game.”

  He followed me to the place of the snakes, and we peered up it. Candles flared along its walls, at either hand. And the walls glittered from the countless mirrors which hung upon them. I stepped forward.

  Luke followed, at my left.

  The mirror frames were of every shape imaginable. I walked very slowly, observing the contents of each one. I told Luke to do the same. For several paces, the mirrors seemed simply to be giving back what was before them.

  Then Luke stiffened and halted, head turning to the left. “Mom!” he said explosively.

  The reflection of an attractive red-haired woman occupied a mirror framed in green-tinged copper in the shape of an Ouroboros serpent.

  She smiled. “So glad you did the right thing, taking the throne,” she said.

  “You really mean that?” he asked.

  “Of course,” she replied.

  “Thought you might be mad. Thought you wanted it,” he said.

  “I did once, but those damned Kashfans never appreciated me. I’ve got the Keep now, though, and I feel like doing a few years’ research here—and it’s full of sentimental values as well. So as long as Kashfa stays in the family, I wanted you to know I was pleased.”

  “Why—uh—glad to hear that, Mom. Very glad. I’ll hang onto it.”

  “Do,” she said, and vanished.