The Great Book of Amber

by Roger Zelazny

  “Yes,” he said. “The others did have a go at it later, though. I told you that, too.”

  I nodded.

  “Did Brand report anything unusual at that time?” I asked.

  “Unusual? In what way?” said Benedict.

  “I don't know. I am looking for some connection between what happened to him and what happened to me.”

  “Then you are looking in the wrong place,” Benedict said. “He returned and reported no success. And he was around for ages after that, unmolested.”

  “I gathered that much,” I said. “I understand from what Random has told me, though, that his final disappearance occurred approximately a month before my own recovery and return. That almost strikes me as peculiar. If he did not report anything special after his return from the search, did he do so prior to his disappearance? Or in the interim? Anyone? Anything? Say it if you've got it!”

  There followed some mutual glancing about. The looks seemed more curious than suspicious or nervous, though.

  Finally, then, “Well,” Llewella said, “I do not know. Do not know whether it is significant, I mean.”

  All eyes came to rest upon her. She began to knot and unknot the ends of her belt cord, slowly, as she spoke.

  “It was in the interim, and it may have no bearing,” she went on. “It is just something that struck me as peculiar. Brand came to Rebma long ago—”

  “How long ago?” I asked.

  She furrowed her brow.

  “Fifty, sixty, seventy years... I am not certain.”

  I tried to summon up the rough conversion factor I had worked out during my long incarceration. A day in Amber, it seemed, constituted a bit over two and a half days on the shadow Earth where I had spent my exile. I wanted to relate events in Amber to my own time-scale whenever possible, just in case any peculiar correspondences turned up. So Brand had gone to Rebma sometime in what was, to me, the nineteenth century.

  “Whatever the date,” she said, “he came and visited me. Stayed for several weeks.” She glanced at Random then. “He was asking about Martin.”

  Random narrowed his eyes and cocked his head. “Did he say why?” he asked her.

  “Not exactly,” she said. “He implied that he had met Martin somewhere in his travels, and he gave the impression that he would like to get in touch with him again. I did not realize until some time after his departure that finding out everything he could concerning Martin was probably the entire reason for his visit. You know how subtle Brand can be, finding out things without seeming to be after them. It was only after I had spoken with a number of others whom he had visited that I began to see what had occurred. I never did find out why, though.”

  “That is-most peculiar,” Random observed. “For it brings to mind something to which I had never attached any significance. He once questioned me at great length concerning my son-and it may well have been at about the same time. He never indicated that he had met him, however-or that he had any desire to do so. It started out as a bit of banter on the subject of bastards. When I took offense he apologized and asked a number of more proper questions about the boy, which I assumed he then put for the sake of politeness-to leave me with a softer remembrance. As you say, though, he had a way of drawing admissions from people. Why is it you never told me of. this before?”

  She smiled prettily.

  “Why should I have?” she said.

  Random nodded slowly, his face expressionless.

  “Well, what did you tell him?” he said. “What did he learn? What do you know about Martin that I don't?”

  She shook her head, her smile fading.

  “Nothing-actually,” she said. “To my knowledge, no one in Rebma ever heard from Martin after he took the Pattern and vanished. I do not believe that Brand departed knowing any more than he did when he arrived.”

  “Strange...” I said. “Did he approach anyone else on the subject?”

  “I don't remember,” Julian said.

  “Nor I,” said Benedict.

  The others shook their heads.

  “Then let us note it and leave it for now,” I said. “There are other things I also need to know. Julian, I understand that you and Gerard attempted to follow the black road a while back, and that Gerard was injured along the way. I believe you both stayed with Benedict for a time after that, while Gerard recuperated. I would like to know about that expedition.”

  “It seems as if you already do,” Julian replied. “You have just stated everything that occurred.”

  “Where did you learn of this, Corwin,” Benedict inquired.

  “Back in Avalon,” I said.

  “From whom?”

  “Dara,” I said.

  He rose to his feet, came over, stood before me, glared down.

  “You still persist in that absurd story about the girl!”

  I sighed.

  “We have been round and round on this too many times,” I said. “By now I have told you everything that I know on the subject. Either you accept it or you do not. She is the one who told me, though.”

  “Apparently, then, there were some things you did not tell me. You never mentioned that part before.”

  “Is it true or isn't it? About Julian and Gerard.”

  “It is true,” he said.

  “Then forget the source for now and let us get on with what happened.”

  “Agreed,” Benedict said. “I may speak candidly, now that the reason for secrecy is no longer with us. Eric, of course. He was unaware of my whereabouts, as were most of the others. Gerard was my main source of news in Amber. Eric grew more and more apprehensive concerning the black road and finally decided to send scouts to trace it through Shadow to its source. Julian and Gerard were selected. They were attacked by a very strong party of its creatures at a point near Avalon. Gerard called to me, via my Trump, for assistance and I went to their aid. The enemy was dispatched. As Gerard had sustained a broken leg in the fighting and Julian was a bit battered himself, I took them both home with me. I broke my silence with Eric at that time, to tell him where they were and what had become of them. He ordered them not to continue their journey, but to return to Amber after they had recovered. They remained with me until they did. Then they went back.”

  “That is all?”

  “That is all.”

  But it wasn't. Dara had also told me something else. She had mentioned another visitor. I remembered it quite distinctly. That day, beside the stream, a tiny rainbow in the mist above the waterfall, the mill wheel turning round and round, delivering dreams and grinding them, that day we had fenced and talked and walked in Shadow, had passed through a primordial wood, coming to a Spot beside a mighty torrent where turned a wheel fit for the granary of the gods, that day we had picnicked, flirted, gossiped, she had told me many things, some of them doubtless false. But she had not lied concerning the journey of Julian and Gerard, and I believed it possible that she had also spoken truly when she said that Brand had visited Benedict in Avalon. “Frequently” was the word she had used.

  Now, Benedict made no secret of the fact that he distrusted me. I could see this alone as sufficient reason for his withholding information on anything he judged too sensitive to become my business. Hell, buying his story, I would not have trusted me either if our situations were reversed. Only a fool would have called him on it at that moment, though. Because of the other possibilities.

  It could be that he planned to tell me later, in private, of the circumstances surrounding Brand's visits. They could well have involved something he did not wish to discuss before the group, and especially before Brand's would-be killer.

  Or-There was, of course, the possibility that Benedict himself was behind it all. I did not even like to think about the consequences. Having served under Napoleon, Lee, and MacArthur, I appreciated the tactician as well as the strategist. Benedict was both, and he was the best I had ever known. The recent loss of his right arm had in no way diminished him in this, or for that matter impaired
his personal fighting skills. Had I not been very lucky recently he could easily have turned me into a pile of scallops over our misunderstanding. No, I did not want it to be Benedict, and I was not about to grope after whatever he had at that moment seen fit to conceal. I only hoped that he was just saving it for later.

  So I settled for his, “That is all,” and decided to move on to other matters.

  “Flora,” I said, “back when I first visited you, after my accident, you said something which I still do not quite understand. In that I had ample time relatively soon thereafter in which to review many things, I came across it in my memories and occasionally puzzled over it. I still do not understand it. So would you please tell me what you meant when you said that the shadows contained more horrors than any had thought?”

  “Why, I do not properly recall saying it,” Flora said. “But I suppose that I must have, if it made such an impression. You know the effect that I was referring to: that Amber seems to act as something of a magnet on adjacent shadows, drawing things across from them; the nearer you get to Amber the easier the road becomes, even for shadow-things. While there always seems to be some exchange of materials among adjacent shadows themselves, the effect is more forceful and also more of a one-way process when it comes to Amber. We have always been alert for peculiar things slipping through. Well, for several years prior to your recovery, more such things than usual seemed to be showing up in the vicinity of Amber. Dangerous things, almost invariably. Many were recognizable creatures from nearby realms. After a time, though, things kept coming in from farther and farther afield. Eventually, some which were totally unknown made it through. No reason could be found for this sudden transportation of menaces, although we sought fairly far for disturbances which might be driving them this way. In other words, highly improbable penetrations of Shadow were occurring.”

  “This actually began while Dad was still around?”

  “Oh yes. It started several years before your recovery-as I said.”

  “I see. Did anyone consider the possibility of there being a connection between this state of affairs and Dad's departure?”

  “Certainly,” Benedict replied. “I still feel that that was the reason for it. He went off to investigate, or to seek a remedy.”

  “But that is purely conjecture,” Julian said. “You know how he was. He gave no reasons.”

  Benedict shrugged.

  “It is a reasonable inference, though,” he said. “I understand that he had spoken of his concern over the-monster migrations, if you like-on numerous occasions.”

  I withdrew my cards from their case, having recently gotten into the habit of carrying a set of Trumps with me at all times. I raised Gerard's Trump and regarded it. The others were silent, watching me as I did this. Moments later, there was contact.

  Gerard was still seated in his chair, his blade across his knees. He was still eating. He swallowed when he felt my presence and said, “Yes, Corwin? What do you want?”

  “How is Brand?”

  “Sleeping,” he said. “His pulse is a little stronger. His breathing is the same-regular. It's still too early—”

  “I know,"l said. “I mainly wanted to check your recollection of something: Near the end there, did you get the impression from anything he might have said or done that Dad's going away might have been connected with the increased number of Shadow beings that were slipping through into Amber?”

  “That,” said Julian, “is what is known as a leading question.”

  Gerard wiped his mouth.

  “There could have been a connection, yes,” he said. “He seemed disturbed, preoccupied with something. And he did talk about the creatures. But he never really said that that was his main concern. -or whether it was something entirely different.”

  “Like what?”

  He shook his head.

  “Anything. I-yes... yes, there is something you probably ought to know, for whatever it is worth. Some time after his disappearance, I did make an effort to find out one thing. That was, whether I was indeed the last person to see him before his departure. I am fairly certain that I was. I had been here in the palace all evening, and I was preparing to return to the flagship. Dad had retired about an hour earlier, but I had stayed on in the guard room, playing draughts with Captain Thoben. As we were sailing the following morning, I decided to take a book with me. So I came up here to the library. Dad was seated at the desk.” He gestured with his head. “He was going through some old books, and he had not yet changed his garments. He nodded to me when I entered, and I told him I had just come up for a book. He said, 'You've come to the right place,' and he kept on reading. While I was looking over the shelves, he said something to the effect that he could not sleep. I found a book, told him good night, he said, 'Good sailing,' and I left.”

  He lowered his eyes again. “Now I am positive he was wearing the Jewel of Judgment that night, that I saw it on him then as plainly as I see it on you now. I am equally certain that he had not had it on earlier that evening. For a long while after, I thought that he had taken it along with him, wherever he went. There was no indication in his chambers that he had later changed his clothing. I never saw the stone again until you and Bleys were defeated in your assault on Amber. Then, Eric was wearing it. When I questioned him he claimed that he had found it in Dad's chambers. Lacking evidence to the contrary, I had to accept his story. But I was never happy with it. Your question-and seeing you wearing it-has brought it all back. So I thought you had better know about it.”

  “Thanks,” I said, and another question occurred to me but I decided against asking it at that moment. For the benefit of the others, I closed off by saying, “So do you think he needs any more blankets? Or anything else?”

  Gerard raised his glass to me, then took a drink.

  “Very good. Keep up the good work,” I said, and I passed my hand over his card.

  “Brother Brand seems to be doing all right,” I said, “and Gerard does not recollect Dad's saying anything that would directly connect Shadow slippage and his departure. I wonder how Brand will recall things, when he comes around?”

  “If he comes around,” Julian said.

  “I think that he will,” I said. “We have all taken some pretty bad beatings. Our vitality is one of the few things we have come to trust. My guess is that he will be talking by morning.”

  “What do you propose doing with the guilty party,” he asked, “if Brand names him?”

  “Question him,” I said.

  “Then I would like to do the questioning. I am beginning to feel that you may be right this time, Corwin, and that the person who stabbed him may also be responsible for our intermittent state of siege, for Dad's disappearance, and for Caine's killing. So I would enjoy questioning him before we cut his throat, and I would like to volunteer for that last part also.”

  “We will keep it in mind,” I said.

  “You are not excluded from the reckoning, Corwin.”

  “I was aware of that.”

  “I have something to say,” said Benedict, smothering a rejoinder from Julian. “I find myself troubled both by the strength and the apparent objective of the opposition. I have encountered them now on several occasions, and they are out for blood. Accepting for the moment your story of the girl Dara, Corwin, her final words do seem to sum up their attitude: 'Amber will be destroyed. ' Not conquered, subjugated, or taught a lesson. Destroyed. Julian, you wouldn't mind ruling here, would you?” Julian smiled.

  “Perhaps next year this time,” he said. “Not today, thank you.”

  “What I am getting at is that I could see you-or any of us-employing mercenaries or obtaining allies to effect a takeover. I cannot see you employing a force so powerful that it would represent a grave problem itself afterward. Not a force that seems bent on destruction rather than conquest. I cannot see you, me, Corwin, the others as actually trying to destroy Amber, or willing to gamble with forces that would. That is the part I do not like about Corwin'
s notion that one of us is behind this.”

  I had to nod. I was not unaware of the weakness of that link in my chain of speculations. Still, there were so many unknowns... I could offer alternatives, such as Random then did, but guesses prove nothing.

  “It may be,” Random said, “that one of us made the deal but underestimated his allies. The guilty party may now be sweating this thing as much as the rest of us. He may not be in a position to turn things off now, even if he wants to.”

  “We could offer him the opportunity,” Fiona said, “to betray his allies to us now. If Julian could be persuaded to leave his throat uncut and the rest of us were willing to do the same, he might come around-if Random's guess is correct. He would not claim the throne, but he was obviously not about to have it before. He would have his life and he could save Amber quite a bit of trouble. Is anyone willing to commit himself to a position on this?”

  “I am,” I said. “I will give him life if he will come across, with the understanding that it will be spent in exile.”

  “I will go along with that,” Benedict said.

  “So will I,” said Random.

  “On one condition,” Julian said. “If he was not personally responsible for Caine's death, I will go along with it. Otherwise, no. And there would have to be evidence.”

  “Life, in exile,” Deirdre said. “All right. I agree.”

  “So do I,” said Flora.

  “And I,” Llewella followed.

  “Gerard will probably agree too,” I said. “But I really wonder whether Brand will feel the same as the rest of us. I've a feeling he may not.”

  “Let us check with Gerard,” Benedict said. “If Brand makes it and proves the only holdout, the guilty party will know he has only one enemy to avoid-and they can always work out their own terms on that count.”

  “All right,” I said, smothering a few misgivings, and I recontacted Gerard, who agreed also.

  So we rose to our feet and swore that much by the Unicorn of Amber-Julian's oath having an extra clause to it-and swore to enforce exile on any of our own number who violated the oath. Frankly, I did not think it would net us anything, but it is always nice to see families doing things together.