Blood of Amber tcoa-7

by Roger Joseph Zelazny

  “It’s not your turn for a question,” she said. “You haven’t answered mine yet.”

  “Okay, Fi and I came back to Amber after I left Meg’s place. The next day Random sent me on a mission, to turn off a machine I’d built called Ghostwheel. I failed in this but I ran into Luke along the way. He actually helped me out of a tight spot. Then, following a misunderstanding with my creation, I used a strange Trump to take both Luke and myself to safety. Luke subsequently imprisoned me in a crystal cave —”

  “Aha!” she said.

  “I should stop there?”

  “No, go on.”

  “I was a prisoner for a month or so, though it amounted to only a few days, Amber time. I was released by a couple of fellows working for a lady named Jasra, had an altercation with them and with the lady herself and trumped out to San Francisco, to Flora’s place. There, I revisited an apartment where a murder had occurred —”

  “Julia’s place?”

  “Yes. In it, I discovered a magical gateway which I was able to force open. I passed through it to a place called the Keep of the Four Worlds. A battle was in progress there, the attackers probably being led by a fellow named Dalt, of some small notoriety hereabouts at one time. Later, I was pursued by a magical whirlwind and called names by a masked wizard. I trumped out and came home — yesterday.”

  “And that’s everything?”

  “In capsule form, yes.”

  “Are you leaving out anything?”

  “Sure. For instance, there was a Dweller on the threshold of the gateway, but I was able to get by.”

  “No, that’s part of the package. Anything else?”

  “Mm. Yes, there were two peculiar communications, ending in flowers.”

  “Tell me about them.”

  So I did.

  She shook her head when I’d finished. “You’ve got me there,” she said.

  I finished my coffee and the apple. She refilled my cup.

  “Now it’s my turn,” I said. “What did you mean by that ‘Aha!’ when I mentioned the crystal cave?”

  “It was blue crystal, wasn’t it? And it blocked your powers.”

  “How’d you know?”

  “It was the color of the stone in the ring you took from that man last night.”

  “Yes.”

  She got to her feet and moved around the table, stood a moment, then pointed to the vicinity of my left hip.

  “Would you empty that pocket onto the table, please?”

  I smiled. “Sure. How’d you know?”

  She didn’t answer that one, but then it was a different question. I removed the assortment of blue stones from my pocket — the chips from the cave, the carved button I’d snatcher, the ring — and placed them upon the table.

  She picked up the button, studied it, then nodded.

  “Yes, that’s one also,” she stated.

  “One what?”

  She ignored the query and dipped her right forefinger into a bit of spilled coffee within her saucer. She then used it to trace three circles around the massed stones, widdershins. Then she nodded again and returned to her seat. I’d summoned the vision in time to see her build a cage of force about them. Now, as I continued to watch, it seemed as if they were exhaling faint wisps of blue smoke that remained within the circle.

  “I thought you said you weren’t a sorcerer.”

  “I’m not,” she replied.

  “I’ll save the question. But continue answering the last one. What is the significance of the blue stones?”

  “They have an affinity for the cave, and for each other,” she told me. “A person with very little training could hold one of them and simply begin walking, following the slight psychic tugging. It would eventually lead him to the cave.”

  “Through Shadow, you mean?”

  “Yes.”

  “Intriguing, but I fail to see any great value to it.”

  “But that is not all. Ignore the pull of the cave, and you will become aware of secondary tuggings. Learn to distinguish the signature of the proper stone, and you can follow its bearer anywhere.”

  “That does sound a little more useful. Do you think that’s how those guys found me last night, because I had a pocket full of the things?”

  “Probably, from a practical standpoint, they helped. Actually, though, in your case, they should not even have lien necessary at this point.”

  “Why not?”

  “They have an additional effect. Anyone who has one in his possession for a time becomes attuned to the thing. Throw it away and the attunement remains. You can still be tracked then, just as if you had retained the stone. You would possess a signature of your own.”

  “You mean that even now, without them, I’m marked?”

  “Yes.”

  “How long does it take to wear off?”

  “I am not certain that it ever does.”

  “There must be some means of deattunement.”

  “I do not know for certain, but I can think of a couple of things that would probably do it.”

  “Name them.”

  “Walking the Pattern of Amber or negotiating the Logrus of Chaos. They seem almost to break a person apart and do a reassemblement into a purer form. They have been known to purge many strange conditions. As I recall, it was the Pattern that restored your father’s memory.”

  “Yes — and I won’t even ask you how you know about the Logrus you may well be right. As with so much else in life, it seems enough of a pain in the ass to be good for me. So, you think they could be zeroing in on me right now, with or without the stones?”

  “Yes.”

  “How do you know all this?” I asked.

  “I can sense it — and that’s an extra question. But I’ll give you a free one in the interests of expedition.”

  “Thanks. I guess it’s your turn now.”

  “Julia was seeing an occultist named Victor Melman before she died. Do you know why?”

  “She was studying with him, looking for some sort of development — at least, that’s what I was told by a guy who knew her at the time. This was after we broke up.”

  “That is not exactly what I meant,” she said. “Do you know why she desired this development?”

  “Sounds like an extra question to me, but maybe I owe you one. The fellow I’d spoken with told me that I had scared her, that I’d given her to believe that I possessed unusual abilities, and that she was looking for some of her own in self-defense.”

  “Finish it,” she said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “That’s not a complete answer. Did you actually give her cause to believe that and to be afraid of you?”

  “Well, I guess I did. Now my question: How could you possibly know anything about Julia in the first place?”

  “I was there,” she answered. “I knew her.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “That’s it. Now it’s my turn.”

  “That’s hardly complete.”

  “But it’s all you’re getting on that one. Take it or leave it.”

  “According to our agreement I can call it quits over that.”

  “True. Will you?”

  “What do you want to know next?”

  “Did Julia develop the abilities she sought?”

  “I told you that we’d stopped seeing each other before she got involved in that sort of thing. So I have no way of knowing.”

  “You located the portal in her apartment from which the beast that slew her had presumably emerged. Two questions now — not for you to answer for me, just for you to think over: Why would anyone want her dead in the first place? And does it not seem a very peculiar way to have gone about it? I can think of a lot simpler ways of disposing of a person.”

  “You’re right,” I agreed. “A weapon is a hell of a lot easier to manage than magic any day. As for why, I can only speculate. I had assumed it was a trap for me, and that she had been sacrificed as part of the package — my annual April thirtieth pr
esent. Do you know about them, too?”

  “Let’s save that business for later. You are obviously aware that sorcerers have styles, the same as painters, writers, musicians. When you succeeded in locating that gateway in Julia’s apartment, was there anything about it which we might refer to as the author’s signature?”

  “Nothing special that I can recall. Of course, I was in a hung to force it. I wasn’t there to admire the aesthetics of the thing. But no, I can’t associate it with anyone with whose work I am familiar. What are you getting at?”

  “I just wondered whether it were possible that she might have developed some abilities of her own along these lines, and in the course of things opened that gateway herself and suffered those consequences.”

  “Preposterous!”

  “All right. I am just trying to turn up some reasons. I take it then that you never saw any indication that she might possess latent abilities for sorcery?”

  “No, I can’t recall any instances.”

  I finished my coffee, poured a refill.

  “If you don’t think Luke is after me now, why not?” I asked her then.

  “He set up some apparent accidents for you, years ago.”

  “Yes. He admitted that recently. He also told me that he quit doing it after the first few times.”

  “That is correct.”

  “You know, it’s maddening — not knowing what you know and what you do not.”

  “That is why we’re talking, isn’t it? It was your idea to go about it this way.”

  “It was not! You suggested this trade-off!”

  “This morning, yes. But the idea was originally yours, some time ago. I am thinking of a certain telephone conversation, at Mr. Roth’s place —”

  “You? That disguised voice on the phone? How could that be?”

  “Would you rather hear about that or about Luke?”

  “That! No, Luke! Both, damn it!”

  “So it would seem there is a certain wisdom in keeping to the format we’ve agreed upon. There is much to be said for orderliness.”

  “Okay, you’ve made another point. Go on about Luke.”

  “It seemed to me, as an observer, that he quit that business as soon as he got to know you better.”

  “You mean back about the time we became friendly — that wasn’t just an act?”

  “I couldn’t tell for sure then — and he certainly countenanced the years of attacks on you — but I believe that he actually sabotaged some of them.”

  “Who was behind them after he quit?”

  “A red-haired lady with whom he seemed to be associated.”

  “Jasra?”

  “Yes, that was her name — and I still don’t know as much about her as I’d like to. Do you have anything there?”

  “I think I’ll save that for a big one,” I said.

  For the first time, she directed a narrow-eyed, teeth-clenched expression toward me.

  “Can’t you see that I’m trying to help you, Merlin?”

  “Really, what I see is that you want information I have,” I said, “and that’s okay. I’m willing to deal because you seem to know things I want, too. But I’ve got to admit that your reasons are murky to me. How the hell did you get to Berkeley? What were you doing calling me at Bill’s place? What is this power of yours you say isn’t sorcery? How —”

  “That’s three questions,” she said, “and the beginning of a fourth.

  Would you prefer to write them all out, and have me do the same for you? Then we can both go off to our rooms and decide which ones we want to answer?”

  “No,” I replied. “I’m willing to play the game. But you are aware of my reason for wanting to know these things. It’s a matter of self-preservation to me. I thought at first that you wanted information that would help you to nail the man who killed Caine. But you said no, and you didn’t give me anything to put in its place.”

  “I did, too! I want to protect you!”

  “I appreciate the sentiment. But why? When it comes down to it, you hardly know me.”

  “Nevertheless, that is my reason and I don’t feel like going behind it. Take it or leave it.”

  I got to my feet and began pacing the patio. I didn’t like the thought of giving away information that could be vital to my security, and ultimately that of Amber — though I had to admit I was getting a pretty good return for what I’d given. Her stuff did sound right. For that matter, the Bayles had a long history of loyalty to the Crown, for whatever that was worth. The thing that bothered me the most, I decided, was her insistence that it was not actually revenge that she was after. Apart from this being a very un-Amberlike attitude, if she were any judge at all as to what would go over with me she need but have agreed that blood was what she wanted, in order to make her concern intelligible. I would have bought it without looking any further. And what did she offer in its place? Airy nothings and classified motives…

  Which could well mean she was telling the truth. Disdaining the use of a workable lie and offering something more cumbersome in its place would seem the mark of genuine honesty. And she did, apparently, have more answers that I wanted.

  I heard a small rattling sound from the table. I thought at first that she might be drumming on it with her fingertips as a sign of her irritation with me. But when I glanced back I saw that she was sitting perfectly still, not even looking at me.

  I drew nearer, seeking the source. The ring, the pieces of blue stone and even the button were jiggling about on the tabletop, as of their own accord.

  “Something you’re doing?” I asked.

  “No,” she replied.

  The stone in the ring cracked and fell out of its setting.

  “What, then?”

  “I broke a link,” she said. “I believe something may be trying to reestablish it and failing.”

  “Even so, if I’m still attuned they don’t need them in order to locate me, do they?”

  “There may be more than one party involved,” she observed. “I think I should have a servant ride back to town and throw the things into the ocean. If someone wishes to follow them there, fine.”

  “The chips should just lead back to the cave, and the ring to the dead man,” I said. “But I’m not ready to throw the button away.”

  “Why not? It represents a big unknown.”

  “Exactly. But these things would have to work both ways, wouldn’t they? That would mean that I could learn to use the button to find my way to the flower thrower.”

  “That could be dangerous.”

  “And not doing it could prove more dangerous in the long run. No, you can throw the rest of them into the sea, but not the button.”

  “All right. I’ll keep it pent for you.”

  “Thanks. Jasra is Luke’s mother.”

  “You’re joking!”

  “Nope.”

  “That explains why he didn’t lean on her directly about the later April thirtieths. Fascinating! It opens up a whole new lane of speculation.”

  “Care to share them?”

  “Later, later. In the meantime, I’ll take care of these stones right now.” She scooped them all out of the circle and they seemed, for a moment, to dance in her hand. She stood.

  “Uh — the button?” I said.

  “Yes.”

  She put the button into her pocket and kept the others in her hand.

  “You’re going to get attuned yourself if you keep the button that way, aren’t you?”

  “No,” she said, “I won’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “There’s a reason. Excuse me while I find a container for the others, and someone to transport them.”

  “Won’t that person get attuned?”

  “It takes a while.”

  “Oh.”

  “Have some more coffee — or something.”

  She turned and left. I ate a piece of cheese. I tried to figure out whether I’d gotten more answers or more new questions during the course of our conver
sation. I tried to ht some of the new pieces into the old puzzle.

  “Father?”

  I turned, to see who had spoken. There was no one in sight.

  “Down here.”

  A coin-sized disk of light lay within a nearby flower bed, otherwise empty save for a few dry stalks and leaves. The light caught my attention when it moved slightly.

  “Ghost?” I asked.

  “Uh-huh,” came the reply from among the leaves. “I was waiting to catch you when you were alone. I’m not sure I trust that woman.”

  “Why not?”

  “She doesn’t scan right, like other people. I don’t know what it is. But that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”

  “What, then?”

  “Uh-well, did you mean what you said about not really intending to turn me off?”

  “Jeez! After all the sacrifices I made for you! Your education and everything… And lugging all your damn components out to a place like that where you’d be safe! How can you ask me that?”

  “Well, I heard Random tell you to do it.”

  “You don’t do everything you’re told either, do you? Especially when it comes to assaulting me when I just wanted to check out a few programs? I deserve a little more respect than that!”

  “Uh-yeah. Look, I’m sorry.”

  “You ought to be. I went through a lot of crap because of you.”

  “I looked for you for several days, and I couldn’t find you.”

  “Crystal caves are no fun.”

  “I don’t have much time now…” The light flickered, faded almost to the point of vanishing, returned to full brilliance. “Will you tell me something fast?”

  “Shoot.”

  “That fellow who was with you when you came out this way — and when you left — the big red-haired man?”

  “Luke. Yes?”

  The light grew dimmer again.

  “Is it okay to trust him?” Ghost’s voice came faintly, weakly.

  “No!” I shouted. “That would be damn stupid!”

  Ghost was gone, and I couldn’t tell whether he’d heard my answer.

  “What’s the matter?” Vinta’s voice, from above me.

  “Argument with my imaginary playmate,” I called out.

  Even from that distance I could see the expression of puzzlement on her face. She sought in all directions about the patio and then, apparently persuading herself that I was indeed alone, she nodded.