The Great Book of Amber - Chronicles 1-10

by Roger Zelazny

  Random poured some more coffee, took a drink.

  “I don’t see where it would save that much in the way of time and effort,” he said a little later. “Say I’m curious about something in Shadow. I go and investigate, or I send someone. Now, say that instead I want to use this thing to check it out. I still have to spend the time going to the place where you keep it.”

  “No,” I told him. “You summon a remote terminal.”

  “Summon? A terminal?”

  “Right.” I unearthed my Amber Trumps and dealt myself the one off the bottom. It showed a silver wheel against a dark background. I passed it to Random and he studied it.

  “How do you use it?” he asked.

  “Same as the others. You want to call it to you?”

  “You do it,” he said. “I want to watch.”

  “Very well,” I answered. “But while I’ve set it to gathering data across the shadows it still won’t know a whole lot that’s useful at this point.”

  “I don’t want to question it so much as I want to see it.” I raised the card and stared, seeing through it with my mind’s eye. After a few moments, there was contact. I called it to me. There followed a small crackling sound and a feeling of ionization in the air as a glowing wheel about eight feet in diameter materialized before me.

  “Diminish terminal size,” I ordered.

  It shrank down to about a third of what it had been and I ordered it to halt at that point. It looked like a pale picture frame, occasional sparks dancing within it, the view across the room constantly rippling as seen through its center.

  Random began to extend a hand.

  “Don’t,” I said. “You might get a shock. I still don’t have all the bugs out.”

  “It can transmit energy?”

  “Well, it could. No big deal.”

  “If you ordered to transmit energy . . . ?”

  “Oh, sure. It has to be able to transmit energy here to sustain the terminal, and through Shadow to operate its scanners.”

  “I mean, could it discharge it at this end?”

  “If I told it to it could build up a charge and let it go. Yes.”

  “What are its limits in this?”

  “Whatever it has available.”

  “And what does it have available?”

  “Well, in theory an entire planet. But—”

  “Supposing you ordered it to appear beside someone here, build up a large charge and discharge it into that person. Could it do an electrocution?”

  “I guess so,” I said. “I don’t see why not. But that’s not its purpose—”

  “Merlin, your surprise is certainly a surprise. But I’m not sure I like it.”

  “It’s safe,” I explained. “No one knows where it’s located. No one goes there. This Trump I have is the only one. Nobody else can reach it. I was going to make one more card, just for you, and then show you how to operate the thing when it was ready.”

  “I’m going to have to think about this . . .”

  “Ghost, within five thousand Shadow veils, this location—how many Shadow-storms are currently in existence?”

  The words came as if spoken within the hoop: “Seventeen.”

  “Sounds like—”

  “I gave it my voice,” I told him. “Ghost, give us some pictures of the biggest one.”

  A scene of chaotic fury filled the hoop.

  “Another thought just occurred to me,” Random stated. “Can it transport things?”

  “Sure, just like a regular Trump.”

  “Was the original size of that circle its maximum size?”

  “No, we could make it a lot larger if you wanted. Or smaller.”

  “I don’t. But supposing you made it larger—and then told it to transmit that storm, or as much of it as it could manage?”

  “Wow! I don’t know. It would try. It would probably be like opening a giant window onto it.”

  “Merlin, shut it down. It’s dangerous.”

  “Like I said, nobody knows where it is but me, and the only other way to reach it is—”

  “I know, I know. Tell me, could anybody access it with the proper Trump, or just by finding it?”

  “Well, yes. I didn’t bother with any security codes because of its inaccessibility.”

  “That thing could be an awesome weapon, kid. Shut it down. Now.”

  “I can’t.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You can’t dump its memory or kill its power from a remote terminal. I would actually have to travel to the site itself to do that:”

  “Then I suggest you get going. I want it turned off until there are a lot more safeguards built into it. Even then—well, we’ll see. I don’t trust a power like that. Not when I don’t have any defenses against it. It could. strike almost without warning. What were you thinking of when you built that thing?”

  “Data-processing. Look, we’re the only ones—”

  “There’s always a possibility someone will get wise to it and find a way to get at it. I know, I know—you’re in love with your handiwork—and I appreciate what you had in mind. But it’s got to go.”

  “I have done nothing to offend you.” It was my voice, but it came from the wheel.

  Random stared at it, looked at me, looked back at it.

  “Uh—that’s not the point,” he addressed it. “It’s your potential that I’m concerned about. Merlin, turn off the terminal!”

  “End transmission,” I said. “Withdraw terminal.” It wavered a moment, then was gone.

  “Had you anticipated that comment from the thing?” Random asked me.

  “No. I was surprised.”

  “I’m beginning to dislike surprises. Maybe that shadow environment is actually altering the thing in subtle ways. You know my wishes. Give it a rest.”

  I bowed my head. “Whatever you say, sir.”

  “Cut it out. Don’t be a martyr. Just do it.”

  “I still think it’s just a matter of installing a few safeguards. No reason to crash the whole project.”

  “If things were quieter,” he said, “maybe I’ d go along with it, But there’s too much shit coming down right now, with snipers and bombers and all the things you’ve been telling me about. I don’t need another worry.”

  I got to my feet.

  “Okay. Thanks for the coffee,” I said. “I’ll let you know when it’s done.”

  He nodded.

  “Good night, Merlin.”

  “Good night.”

  As I was stalking out through the big entrance hall I saw Julian, in a green dressing gown, talking with two of his men. On the floor between them lay a large dead animal. I halted and stared. It was one of those same damned dog things I had just dreamed about, like at Julia’s.

  I approached.

  “Hi, Julian. What is it?” I asked gesturing.

  He shook his head.

  “Don’t know. But the hellhounds just killed three of them in Arden. I trumped these guys up with one of the carcasses, to show Random. You wouldn’t know where he is, would you?”

  I stabbed with my thumb back over my shoulder.

  “In the sitting room.”

  He walked off in that direction. I went nearer and prodded the animal with my toe. Should I go back and tell Random I’d met one before?

  The hell with it, I decided. I couldn’t see how the information would be of any vital use.

  I returned to my rooms and washed up and changed my clothes. Then I stopped by the kitchen and filled my backpack with food. I didn’t feel like saying good-bye to anyone, so I just headed for the back and took the big rear staircase down into the gardens.

  Dark. Starry. Cool. Walking, I felt a sudden chill as I neared the spot where, in my dream, the dogs had appeared. No howls, no growls. Nothing. I passed through that area and continued on my way to the rear of that well-kept site, to the place where a number of trails led off through a more natural landscape. I took the second one from the left. It was a slightly
longer route than another I might have chosen—with which it intersected later, anyway—but was easier going, a thing I felt I needed in the night. I was still not all that familiar with the irregularities of the other way.

  I hiked the crest of Kolvir for the better part of an hour before I located the downward trail I was seeking. I halted then, took a drink of water and rested for a few minutes before I began the descent.

  It is very difficult to walk in Shadow on Kolvir. One has to put some distance between oneself and Amber in order to do it properly. So all I could do at this point was hike which was fine with me, because it was a good night for walking.

  I was well on my way down before a glow occurred overhead and the moon crested a shoulder of Kolvir and poured its light upon my twisting trail. I increased my pace somewhat after that. I did want to make it off the mountain by morning.

  I was angry with Random for not giving me a chance to justify my work.

  I hadn’t really been ready to tell him about it. If it hadn’t been for Caine’s funeral I would not have returned to Amber until I’d had the thing perfected. And I wasn’t even going to mention Ghostwheel this time around, except that it had figured in a small way in the mystery that had engulfed me and Random had wanted to know about it in order to have the whole story. Okay. He didn’t like what he’d seen, but the preview had been premature. Now, if I shut it down as I’d been ordered I would ruin a lot of work that had been in progress for some time now. Ghostwheel was still in a Shadow-scanning, self-education phase. I would have been checking on it about now, anyway, to see how it was coming along and to correct any obvious flaws that had crept into the system.

  I thought about it as the trail grew steeper and curved on Kolvir’s western face. Random had not exactly ordered me to dump everything it had accumulated thus far. He’ d simply told me to shut it down. Viewed the way I chose to view it, that meant I could exercise my own judgment as to means. I decided that gave me leeway to check everything out first, reviewing systems functions and revising programs until I was satisfied that everything was in order. Then I could transfer everything to a more permanent status before shutting it down. Then nothing would be lost; its memory would be intact when the time came to restore its functions again.

  Maybe . . .

  What if I did everything to make it shipshape, including throwing in a few—as I saw it—unnecessary safeguards to make Random happy? Then, I mused, supposing I got in touch with Random, showed him what I’d done, and asked him whether he was happy with it that way? If he weren’t, I could always shut it down then. But perhaps he’d reconsider. Worth thinking about . . .

  I played over imaginary conversations with Random until the moon had drifted off to my left. I was more than halfway down Kolvir by then and the going was becoming progressively easier. I could already feel the force of the Pattern as somewhat diminished.

  I halted a couple of more times on the way down, for water and once for a sandwich. The more I thought about it, the more I felt that Random would just get angry if I proceeded along the lines I had been thinking and probably wouldn’t even give me a full hearing. On the other hand, I was angry myself.

  But it was a long journey with few shortcuts. I’d have plenty of time to mull it over. The sky was growing lighter when I crossed the last rocky slope to reach the wide trail at the foot of Kolvir to the northwest. I regarded a stand of trees across the way, one large one a familiar landmark.

  With a dazzling flash that seemed to sizzle and a bomblike report of thunder the tree was split, not a hundred meters away. I’d flung up both hands at the lightning stroke, but I could still hear cracking wood and the echo of the blast for several seconds afterward.

  Then a voice cried out, “Go back!”

  I assumed I was the subject of this conversational gambit. “May we talk this over?” I responded.

  There was no reply.

  I stretched out in a shallow declivity beside the trail, then crawled along it for several body lengths to a place where the cover was better. I was listening and watching the while, hoping that whoever had pulled that stunt would betray his position in some fashion.

  Nothing happened, but for the next half minute I surveyed the grove and a portion of the slope down which I had come. From that angle their proximity gave me a small inspiration.

  I summoned the image of the Logrus, and two of its lines became my arms. I reached then, not through Shadow but up the slope to where a fairly good-sized rock was poised above a mass of others.

  Seizing hold, I drew upon it. It was too heavy to topple easily, so I began rocking it. Slowly, at first. Finally, I got it to the tipping point and it tumbled. It fell among the others and a small cascade began. I withdrew further as they struck and sent new ones bouncing. Several big ones began to roll. A fracture line gave way when they fell upon its edge at a steeper place. An entire sheet of stone groaned and cracked, began to slide.

  I could feel the vibration as I continued my withdrawal. I had not anticipated setting off anything this spectacular. The rocks bounced, slid and flew into the grove. I watched the trees sway, saw some of them go down. I heard the crunching, the pinging, the breaking.

  I gave it an extra half minute after what seemed its end. There was much dust in the air and half of the grove was down. Then I rose to my feet, Frakir dangling from my left hand, and I advanced upon the grove.

  I searched carefully, but there was no one there. I climbed upon the trunk of a fallen tree.

  “I repeat, do you care to talk about it?” I called out. No answer.

  “Okay, be that way,” I said, and I headed north into Arden.

  * * *

  I heard the sound of horses occasionally as I hiked through that ancient forest. If I was being followed, though, the horsemen showed no interest in closing with me. Most likely, I was passing in the vicinity of one of Julian’s patrols.

  Not that it mattered. I soon located a trail and began the small adjustments that bore me farther and farther from them.

  A lighter shade, from brown to yellow, and slightly shorter trees . . . Fewer breaks in the leafy canopy . . . Odd bird note, strange mushroom . . .

  Little by little, the character of the wood was altered. And the shifting grew easier and easier the farther this took me from Amber.

  I began to pass sunny clearings. The sky grew a paler blue . . . The trees were all green now, but most of them saplings . . .

  I broke into a jog.

  Masses of clouds came into view, the spongy earth grew firmer, drier . . .

  I stepped up my pace, heading downhill. Grasses were more abundant. The trees were divided into clusters now, islands in a waving sea of those pale grasses. My view took in a greater distance. A flapping, beaded curtain off to my right: rain.

  Rumbles of thunder came to me, though sunlight continued to light my way. I breathed deeply of the clean damp air and ran on.

  The grasses fell away, ground fissured, sky blackened . . . Waters rushed through canyons and arroyos all about me . . . Torrents poured from overhead onto the rocking terrain . . .

  I began slipping. I cursed each time I picked myself up, for my over eagerness in the shifting.

  The clouds parted like a theater curtain, to where a lemon sun poured warmth and light from a salmon-colored sky. The thunder halted in mid-rumble and a wind rose . . .

  I made my way up a hillside, looked down upon a ruined village. Long-abandoned, partly overgrown, strange mounds lined its broken main street.

  I passed through it beneath a slate-colored sky, picked my way slowly across an icy pond, faces of those frozen beneath me staring sightlessly in all directions . . .

  The sky was soot-streaked, the snow hard-packed, my breath feathery as I entered the skeletal wood where frozen birds perched: an etching.

  Slipping downhill, rolling, sliding into melting and spring . . .

  Movement again; about me . . . Mucky ground and clumps of green . . . Strange cars on distant highway . . .
>
  A junkyard, smelling, oozing, rusting, smoldering . . . Threading my way amid acres of heaps . . . Rats scurrying . . .

  Away . . . Shifting faster, breathing harder . . . Skyline beneath smog cap . . . Delta bottom . . . Seashore . . . Golden pylons along the road . . . Countryside with lakes . . . Brown grasses beneath green sky . . .

  Slowing . . . Rolling grassland, river and lake . . . Slowing . . . Breeze and grass, sealike . . . Mopping my brow on my sleeve . . . Sucking air . . . Walking now . . .

  I moved through the field at a normal pace, preferring to do my resting in a congenial spot such as this, where I could see for a good distance. The wind made soft noises as it passed among the grasses. The nearest lake was a deep lime color. Something in the air smelled sweet.

  I thought I saw a brief flash of light off to my right, but when I looked that way there was nothing unusual to be seen. A little later, I was certain that I heard a distant sound of hoofbeats. But again, I saw nothing. That’s the trouble with shadows—you don’t always know what’s natural there; you’re never certain what to look for.

  Several minutes passed, and then I smelled it before I saw anything.

  Smoke. The next instant there was a rush of fire. A long line of flame cut across my path.

  And again the voice: “I told you to go back!”

  The wind was behind the fire, pushing it toward me. I turned to head away and saw that it was already flanking me. It takes a while to build up the proper mental set for shadow-shifting, and I had let mine go. I doubted I could set it up again in time.

  I began running.

  The line of flame was curving about me, as if to describe a huge circle. I did not pause to admire the precision of the thing, however, as I could feel the heat by then and the smoke was getting thicker.

  Above the fire’s crackling it seemed that I could still hear the drumming of hoofs. My eyes were beginning to water, though, and streams of smoke further diminished my vision. And again, I detected no sign of the person who had sprung the trap.

  Yet—definitely—the ground was shaking with the rapid progress of a hooved creature headed in my direction. The flames flashed higher, drew nearer as the circle crushed toward closure.