“I'd imagine it could be disentangled,” Gryll observed. “But its unraveling be a bafflement to this poor demon.”
I grunted. I watched the streaking scenery for a few moments. lfien, “Speaking of demons...” I said.
“Yes?”
“What can you tell me about the sort known as a ty' iga?” I asked.
“They dwell far out beyond the Rim,” he replied, “and may be the closest of all creatures to the primal Chaos. I do not believe they even possess true bodies of the material sort. They have little to do with other demons, let alone anyone else.”
“Ever know any of them-uh-personally?”
“I have encountered a few-now and then,” he replied.
We rose higher. The castle had been doing the same. A fall of meteors burned its way, brightly, silently, behind it.
“They can inhabit a human body, take it over.”
“That doesn't surprise me.”
“I know of one who has done this thing, several times. But an unusual problem has come up. It apparently took control of one on the human's deathbed. The passing of the human seemed to lock the ty' iga in place. It cannot vacate the body now. Do you know of any way it might escape?”
Gryll chuckled.
“Jump off a cliff, I suppose. Or fall on a sword.”
“But what if it's tied to its host so closely now that this doesn't free it?”
He chuckled again.
“That's the breaks of the game, in the body-stealing business.”
“I owe this one something,” I said. “I'd like to help her-it.”
He was silent for a time, then replied, “An older, wiser ty'iga might know something about these matters. And you know where they are.”
“Yeah.”
“Sorry I can't be more help. They're an old breed, ty iga.
And now we bore down upon that tower. Our roadway under the shifting kaleidoscope that was the sky dwindled before us to but the tiniest of streaks. Gryll beat his way toward the light in the window and I peered past him.
I glanced downward. The prospect was dizzying. From some distant place a growling sound came up, as if portions of the earth itself were moving slowly against each other-a common enough occurrence in this vicinity. The winds beat at my garments. A strand of tangerine clouds beaded the sky to my left. I could make out detail work in the castle walls. I caught sight of a figure within the room of the light.
Then we were very near, and then through the window and inside. A large, stooped, gray and red demonic form, horned and half-scaled, regarded me with elliptically pupiled yellow eyes. Its fangs were bared in a smile.
“Uncle!” I cried as I dismounted. “Greetings!”
Gryll stretched and shook himself as Suhuy rushed forward and embraced me-carefully.
“Merlin,” he said at last, “welcome home. I regret the occasion but rejoice in your presence. Gryll has told you..?”
“Of the passing of His Highness? Yes. I'm sorry.”
He released me and stepped back a pace.
“It is not as if it were unanticipated,” he said. “Just the opposite. Too much so, in fact. Yet there is no proper time for such an event.”
“True,” I replied, massaging a certain stiffness out of my left shoulder and groping in my hip pocket after a comb.
“And he had been ailing for so long that I had grown used to it,” I said. “It was almost as if he'd come to terms with the weakness.”
Suhuy nodded. Then, “Are you going to transform?” he asked.
“It's been a rough day,” I told him. “I'd as soon save my energy, unless there's some demand of protocol.”
“None at all, just now,” he replied. “Have you eaten?”
“Not recently.”
“Come then,” he said. “Let's find you some nourishment.”
He turned and walked toward the far wall. I followed him. There were no doors in the room, and he had to know all the local Shadow stress points, the Courts being opposite to Amber in this regard. While it's awfully hard to pass through Shadow in Amber, the shadows are like frayed curtains in the Courts-often, you can look right through into another reality without even trying. And, sometimes, something in the other reality may be looking at you. Care must be taken, too, not to step through into a place where you will find yourself in the middle of the air, underwater, or in the path of a raging torrent. The Courts were never big on tourism.
Fortunately, the stuff of Shadow is so docile at this end of reality that it can be easily manipulated by a shadowmaster-who can stitch together their fabrics to create a way. Shadowmasters are technicians of locally potent skill, whose ability derives from the Logrus, though they need not be initiates. Very few are, although all initiates are automatically members of the Shadowmaster Guild. They're like plumbers or electricians about the Courts, and their skills vary as much as their counterparts on the Shadow Earth-a combination of aptitude and experience. While I'm a guild member I'd much rather follow someone who knows the ways than feel them out for myself. I suppose I should say more about this matter. Maybe I will sometime.
When we reached the wall, of course, it wasn't there. It just sort of grew misty and faded away; and we passed through the space where it had been-or, rather, a dif ferent analogous space-and we were passing down a green stairway. Well, it wasn't exactly a stairway. It was a series of unconnected green discs, descending in spiral fashion, proper riser and tread distance apart, sort of floating there in the night air. They passed about the exterior of the castle, finally stopping before a blank wall. Before we reached that wall we passed through several moments of bright daylight, a brief flurry of blue snow, and the apse of something like a cathedral without an altar, skeletons occupying pews at either hand. When we finally came to the wall we passed through it, emerging in a large kitchen. Suhuy led me to the larder and indicated I should help myself. I found some cold meat and bread and made myself a sandwich, washing it down with tepid beer. He nibbled at a piece of bread himself and sipped at a flagon of the same brew. A bird appeared overhead in full flight, cawing raucously, vanishing again before it had passed the entire length of the room.
“When are the services?” I asked.
“Redsky next, almost a whole turning off,” he replied. “So you've a chance to sleep and collect yourself before then-perhaps.”
“What do you mean, `perhaps'?”
“As one of the three, you're under black watch. That's why I summoned you here, to one of my places of solitude.” He turned and walked through the wall. I followed him, still bearing my flagon, and we seated ourselves beside a still, green pool beneath a rocky overhang, umber sky above. His castle contained places from all over Chaos and Shadow, stitched together into a crazy-quilt pattern of ways within ways. “And since you wear the spikard you've added resources for safety,” he observed.
He reached out and touched the many-spoked wheel of my ring. A faint tingling followed in my finger, hand, and arm.
“Uncle, you were often given to cryptic utterances when you were my teacher,” I said. “But I've graduated now, and I guess that gives me the right to say I don't know what the hell you're talking about.”
He chuckled and sipped his beer.
“On reflection, it always became clear,” he said.
“Reflection...” I said, and I looked into the pool. Images swam amid the black ribbons beneath its surface-Swayvill lying in state, yellow and black robes muffling his shrunken form, my mother, my father, demonic forms, all passing and fading, Jurt, myself, Jasra and Julia, Random and Fiona, Mandor and Dworkin, Bill Roth and many faces I did not know...
I shook my head.
“Reflection does riot clarify,” I said.
“It is not the function of an instant,” he replied.
So I returned my attention to the chaos of faces and forms. Jurt returned and remained for a long time. He was dressing himself, in very good taste, and he appeared to be relatively intact. When he finally faded there returned one of
the half familiar faces I had seen earlier. I knew he was a noble of the Courts, and I searched my memory. Of course. It had been a long while, but now I recognized him. It was Tmer, of the House of Jesby, eldest son of the late Prince Rolovians, and now lord himself of the Ways of Jesby-spade beard, heavy brow, sturdily built, not unhandsome, in a rugged sort of way; by all report a brave and possibly even sensitive fellow.
Then there was Prince TubbIe of the Ways of Chanicut, phasing back and forth between human and swirling demonic forms. Placid, heavy, subtle; centuries old and very shrewd; he wore a fringed beard, had wide, innocent, pale eyes, was master of many games.
I waited, and Tmer followed Jurt followed Tubble into vanishment amid the coiling ribbons. I waited longer, and nothing new occurred.
“End of reflection,” I announced at last. “But I still don't know what it means.”
“What did you see?”
“My brother Jurt,” I replied, “and Prince Tmer of Jesby. And Tubble of Chanicut, among other attractions.”
“Most appropriate,” he responded. “Entirely appropriate.”
“And so?”
“Like you, Tmer and Tubble are both under black watch. I understand Tmer is at Jesby, though I believe Jurt has gone to earth somewhere other than Dalgarry.”
“Jurt's come back?”
He nodded.
“He could be at my mother's Fortress Gantu,” I mused. “Or, Sawall did have a second stead-the Ways of Anch, at the very Rim.”
Suhuy shrugged.
“I do not know,” he said.
“But why the black watch-for any of us?”
“You went off into Shadow to a fine university,” he said, “and you have dwelled in the Court of Amber, which I would deem highly educational. Therefore, I bid you take thought. Surely, a mind so well honed—”
“I realize the black watch means we face some sort of danger... “
“Of course.”
“...But its nature eludes me. Unless... “
“Yes.”
“It has to do with Swayvill's death. So it must involve some sort of political settlement. But I've been away. I don't know what matters are hot just now.”
He showed me row upon row of worn but still nasty fangs.
“Try the matter of the succession,” he said.
“Okay. Say the Ways of Sawall are supporting one possible successor, Jesby the other, Chanicut the other. Say we're at each other's throats over the matter. Say I've come back into the middle of a vendetta. So whoever's giving the orders right now has declared us under watch as a matter of keeping things from getting messy. I appreciate it.”
“Close,” he said, “but it's already gone further than that.”
I shook my head.
“I give up,” I said.
From somewhere there came up a wailing sound. “Think about it,” he replied, “while I welcome a guest.”
He rose and stepped into the pool, vanishing immediately.
I finished my beer.
II
It seemed but moments later that a rock to my left shimmered and emitted a bell-like tone. Without conscious intent my attention gathered itself at my ring, which Suhuy had referred to as a spikard. I realized in that instant that I was preparing to use it to defend myself. Interesting, how familiar I felt with it now, how adapted I seemed to have become to it in so short a time. I was on my feet, facing the stone, left hand extended in its direction when Suhuy stepped through the shining place, a taller, darker figure at his rear. A moment later and that figure followed him, emerging into substantiality and shifting from an octopal ape form to that of my brother Mandor, humanized, wearing black as when last I had seen him, though the garments were fresh and of a slightly different cut, his white hair less tousled. He quickly scanned the area about us and gave me a smile.
“I see that all is well,” he stated.
I chuckled as I nodded toward his arm in its sling.
“As well as might be expected,” I replied. “What happened in Amber after I left?”
“No fresh disasters,” he answered. “I stayed only long enough to see whether there was anything I could do to be of assistance. This amounted to a little magical clearing of the vicinity and the summoning of a few planks to lay over holes. Then I begged leave of Random to depart, he granted it, and I came home.”
“A disaster? At Amber?” Suhuy asked.
I nodded.
“There was a confrontation between the Unicorn and the Serpent in the halls of Amber Palace, resulting in considerable damage.”
“What could have occasioned the Serpent's venturing that far into the realm of Order?”
“It involved what Amber refers to as the Jewel of Judgment, which the Serpent considers its missing eye.”
“I must hear the entire tale.”
I proceeded to tell him of the complicated encounter, leaving out my own later experiences in the Corridor of Mirrors and Brand's apartments. While I spoke, Mandor's gaze drifted to the spikard, to Suhuy, and back. When he saw that I noted this he smiled.
“So Dworkin is himself once more..?” Suhuy said.
“I didn't know him before,” I replied. “But he seemed to know what he was about.”
“...And the Queen of Kashfa sees with the Eye of the Serpent.”
“I don't know that she sees with it,” I said. “She's still recovering from the operation. But that's an interesting thought. If she could see with it, what might she behold?”
“The clear, cold lines of eternity, I daresay. Beneath all Shadow. No mortal could bear it for too long.” “She is of the blood of Amber,” I said.
“Really? Oberon's?”
I nodded.
“Your late liege was a very active man,” he observed. “Still, it would be quite a burden of seeing, though I speak only from guesswork-and a certain knowledge of principles. I've no idea what may come of this. Only Dworkin could say. Be he sane, there is a reason for it. I acknowledge his mastery, though I've never been able to anticipate him.”
“You know him, personally?” I asked.
“I knew him,” he said, “long ago, before his troubles. And I do not know whether to rejoice or despair in this. Recovered; he may be working for the greater good. Then again, his interests may be totally partisan.”
“Sorry I can't enlighten you,” I said. “I find his actions cryptic, too.”
“I'm baffled also,” Mandor said, “by the disposition of the Eye. But it still sounds pretty much a local matter, involving Amber's relations with Kashfa and Begma. I don't see that there is anything to be gained at this point by speculation. It's better keeping most of our attention for more pressing local matters.”
I felt myself sigh.
“Such as the succession?” I suggested. Mandor quirked an eyebrow.
“Oh, Lord Suhuy has briefed you already?”
“No,” I replied. “No, but I heard so much from my father of the succession in Amber, with all its cabals, intrigues, and double crosses, that I almost feel an authority on the subject. I imagine it could be that way here, too, among the Houses of Swayvill's descendants, there being many more generations involved.”
“You have the right idea,” he said, “though I think the picture might be a bit more orderly here than it was there.”
“That's something, anyway,” I said. “For me, I intend to pay my respects and get the hell out. Send me a postcard telling me how it gets settled.”
He laughed. He seldom laughs. I felt my wrist prickle where Frakir usually rides.
“He really doesn't know,” he said, glancing at Suhuy.
“He's just arrived,” Suhuy answered. “I hadn't the time to tell him anything.”
I groped in my pocket, located a coin, withdrew it, and flipped it.
“Heads,” I announced, on inspection. “You tell me, Mandor. What's going on?”
“You're not next in line for the throne,” he said. It being my turn to laugh, I did.
“I already kne
w that,” I said. “You told me not that long ago, over dinner, how long the line was before me-if someone of my mixed blood could be considered at all.”
“Two,” he said. “Two stand before you.”
“I don't understand,” I said. “What happened to all the others?”
“Dead,” he replied.
“Bad year for the flu?”
He gave me a nasty smile.
“There has been an unprecedented number of fatal duels and political assassinations recently.”
“Which sort dominated the field?”
“The assassinations.”
“Fascinating.”
“...And so you three are under black watch protection of the Crown, and were given into the care of your respective Houses' security.”
“You're serious.”
“Indeed.”
“Was this sudden thinning of the ranks a matter of
many people simultaneously seeking advancement? Or was it a smaller number, removing roadblocks?”
“The Crown is uncertain.”
“When you say `the Crown,' who, exactly, are you referring to, right now? Who's making decisions in the interim?”
“Lord Bances of Amblerash,” he replied, “a distant relative and longtime friend of our late monarch.”
“I sort of recall him. Could he have an eye on the throne himself, and be behind any of the-removals?” “The man's a priest of the Serpent. Their vows bar
them from reigning anywhere.”
“There are usually ways around vows.”
“True, but the man seems genuinely uninterested in such a thing.”
“That needn't preclude his having a favorite, and maybe helping him along a bit. Is anybody near the throne particularly fond of his Order?”
“To my knowledge, no.”
“Which doesn't mean someone mightn't have cut a deal.”
“No, though Bances isn't the sort of man one would approach easily with a proposition.”
The Great Book of Amber Page 168
