Brightness. A whole tableful of candles now blazed beyond the window.
“Okay,” I hollered. “If that’s all you want, I’ll do it. Is there anything else I should be looking for here?”
The darkness came. It crept around the corner and moved slowly toward us. The candles vanished, and it flowed from the window. The buildings across the street disappeared behind an ebon wall.
“I take it the answer is no,” I cried. Then I turned and beat it back along our narrowing black tunnel toward the trail. Jurt was right behind me.
“Good thinking,” I told him when we stood back on the glowing way, watching that rising street get squeezed out of existence beside us. “Do you think it was just pulling these sequences at random till I finally entered one?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I think it has more control in those places and could respond to your questions more readily in one of them.”
“`It’ being the Pattern?”
“Probably.”
“Okay. The next one it opens to me, I’m going in. I’ll do whatever it wants there if it means I get out of here sooner.”
“We, brother. We.”
“Of course,” I answered.
We commenced walking again. Nothing new and intriguing appeared beside us, though. The road zigged and zagged, and we walked along it, and I got to wondering whom we might meet next. If I were indeed on the Pattern’s turf and on the verge of doing something it wanted, then it seemed that the Logrus might send along someone I knew to attempt to dissuade me. No one appeared at all, though, and we took the final turn, followed a trail suddenly grown straight for some time, then saw it end abruptly within a dark mass far ahead.
Continuing, I saw that it plunged on into a great, dark, mountainous mass. I felt vaguely claustrophobic just considering the implications, and I heard Jurt mutter an obscenity as we trudged toward it. Before we reached it, there came a flickering to my right. Turning, I beheld Random and Vialle’s bedroom, back in Amber. I was looking from the southern side of the room, between the sofa and a bedside table, past a chair, across the rug and the cushions toward the fireplace, the windows which flanked it admitting a soft daylight. No one was present in the bed or occupying any other piece of furniture, and the logs on the grate had burned themselves down to red embers, smoking fitfully.
“What now?” Jurt asked.
“This is it,” I replied “It has to be, don’t you see? Once I got the message as to what was going on, it presented the real thing. I’ve got to act fast, too, I think—as soon as I figure just what—”
One of the stones beside the fireplace began to glow redly. It increased in intensity as I watched. There was no way that those embers could be doing it. Therefore . . .
I rushed forward under the influence of a powerful imperative. I heard Jurt shout something behind me, but his voice was cut off as I entered the room. I caught a whiff of Vialle’s favorite perfume as I passed beside the bed. This was really Amber, I was certain, not just some shadowy facsimile thereof. I moved quickly to the right of the fireplace.
Jurt burst into the room behind me.
“Better come out fighting!” he cried.
I whirled to face him, shouted, “Shut up!” then raised a finger to my lips.
He crossed to my side, caught hold of my arm, and whispered hoarsely, “Borel’s trying to materialize again! He might be solid and waiting by the time you leave!”
From the sitting room I heard Vialle’s voice. “Is someone there?” she called.
I jerked my arm free of Jurt’s grasp, knelt upon the hearth, and seized hold of the glowing stone. It appeared to be mortared in place but came loose easily when I drew upon it.
“How’d you know that one came free?” Jurt whispered.
“The glow,” I replied.
“What glow?” he asked.
I did not answer him but thrust my right hand into the opened area, hoping offhandedly there were no booby traps. The opening extended back for a good distance beyond the length of the stone. And there I felt it, suspended from peg or hook: a length of chain. I caught hold of it and drew it forth. I heard Jurt catch his breath beside me.
The last time I had seen it was when Random had worn it at Caine’s funeral. It was the Jewel of Judgment that I held in my hand. I raised it quickly and slipped the chain over my head, letting that red stone fall upon my breast, just as the door to the sitting room was opened.
Placing my finger to my lips, once more I reached forward, caught hold of Jurt’s shoulders, and turned him back toward the opened wall which let upon our trail. He began to protest, but I propelled him with a sharp push, and he moved off in that direction.
“Who’s there?” I heard Vialle ask, and Jurt glanced back at me, looking puzzled.
I did not feel we could afford the time for my explaining by sign language or whisper that she was blind. So I gave him another push. Only this time he stepped to the side, extended his leg, slipped a hand behind my back, and pushed me forward. A brief expletive escaped my lips, and then I was falling. From behind me, I heard Vialle’s “Who—” before her voice was cut off.
I tumbled onto the trail, managing to draw the dagger from my right boot as I fell. I rolled and came up with the point extended toward the figure of Borel, which seemed to have found its form once more.
He was smiling, his weapon yet undrawn, as he regarded me.
“There is no field of arms here,” he stated, “to provide you with a lucky accident such as you enjoyed when last we met. ”
“Too bad,” I said.
“If I but gain that bauble you wear about your neck and deliver it to the place of the Logrus, I will be granted a normal existence, to replace my living counterpart—he who was treacherously slain by your father, as you pointed out.”
The vision of Amber’s royal apartments had vanished. Jurt stood off the trail, near what had been its interface with this odd realm. “I knew I couldn’t beat him,” he called out when he felt my glance, “but you took him once.”
I shrugged.
At this Borel turned toward Jurt.
“You would betray the Courts and the Logrus?” he asked him.
“On the contrary,” Jurt responded. “I may be saving them from a serious mistake.”
“What mistake might that be?”
“Tell him, Merlin. Tell him what you told me while we were climbing out of the deep freeze,” he said.
Borel glanced back at me.
“There’s something funny about this entire setup,” I said. “I’ve a feeling it’s all a duel between the Powers—the Logrus and the Pattern. Amber and the Courts may be secondary to the entire affair. You see—”
“Ridiculous!” he interrupted, drawing his weapon. “This is just made-up nonsense to avoid our duel.”
I tossed the dagger into my left hand and drew Grayswandir with my right.
“The hell with you then!” I said. “Come and get it!”
A hand fell upon my shoulder. And it kept right on falling with a sort of twist to it, spinning me into a downward spiral which threw me off to the left of the trail. From the corner of my eye, I saw that Borel had taken a step backward.
“You’ve a resemblance to Eric or to Corwin,” came a soft, familiar voice, “though I know you not. But you wear the Jewel, which makes your person too important to risk in a petty squabble.”
I came to a stop and turned my head. It was Benedict whom I beheld—a Benedict with two normal hands.
“My name is Merlin and I’m Corwin’s son,” I said, “and this is a master duelist from the Courts of Chaos.”
“You appear to be on a mission, Merlin. Be about it then,” Benedict said.
The point of Borel’s blade flicked into a position about ten inches from my throat. “You are going nowhere,” he stated, “not with that jewel.”
There was no sound as Benedict’s blade was drawn and moved to beat Borel’s off its line.
�
�As I said, be on your way, Merlin,” Benedict told me.
I got to my feet, moved quickly out of range, passed them both cautiously.
“If you kill him,” Jurt said, “he can rematerialize after a period of time.”
“How interesting,” Benedict remarked, flicking off an attack and retreating slightly. “How long a time?”
“Several hours.”
“And how much time will you need to complete whatever you’re about?”
Jurt looked at me.
“I’m not certain,” I answered.
Benedict executed an odd little parry, followed by a strange shuffling step and a brief slashing attack. A button flew from Borel’s shirt front.
“In that case I’ll make this last for a time,” Benedict said. “Good luck, lad.”
He gave me a quick salute with the weapon, at which moment Borel attacked. Benedict used an Italianate sixte which threw both their points off to the side, advancing as he did so. He reached forward quickly then with his left hand and pulled the other’s nose. Then he pushed him away, stepped back a pace, and smiled.
“What do you usually charge for lessons?” I overheard him asking as Jurt and I hurried down the path.
* * *
“I wonder how long it does take for one of the Powers to materialize a ghost,” Jurt said as we jogged toward the mountainous mass the trail entered.
“Several hours for Borel alone,” I said, “and if the Logrus wants the Jewel as badly as I’d guess, I’d think it would have summoned an army of ghosts if it could. I’m certain now that this place is very difficult for both Powers to reach. I get the feeling they can only manifest via the barest trickles of energy. If that weren’t the case, I’d never have gotten this far.”
Jurt reached out as if to touch the Jewel, apparently thought better of it, withdrew his hand.
“It seems you’ve definitely aligned yourself with the Pattern now,” he observed.
“Looks as if you have, too. Unless you’re planning on stabbing me in the back at the last moment,” I said.
He chuckled. Then, “Not funny,” he said. “I’ve got to be on your side. I can see that the Logrus just created me as a disposable tool. I’d wind up on the scrap heap when the job’s done. I’ve a feeling I might have dissipated already had it not been for the transfusion. So I’m with you, like it or not, and your back is safe.”
We ran on along the now-straight way, its terminus finally grown near. Jurt finally asked, “What is the significance of that pendant? The Logrus seems to want it badly.”
“lt’s called the Jewel of Judgment,” I answered. “It is said to be older than the Pattern itself and to have been instrumental in its creation.”
“Why do you think you were led to it and obtained it with such ease?”
“I have no idea whatsoever,” I said. “If you get one before I do, I’ll be glad to hear it.”
Soon we reached the place where the trail plunged into the greater darkness. We halted and regarded it.
“No signs posted,” I said, checking above and to either side of that entranceway.
Jurt gave me an odd look.
“You’ve always had a weird sense of humor, Merlin.” he said. “Who’d put up a sign in a place like this?”
“Someone else with a weird sense of humor,” I replied.
“Might as well go on,” he said, turning back toward the entrance.
A bright red exit sign had appeared above the opening. Jurt stared for a moment, then shook his head slowly. We entered.
We took our way down a wandering tunnel—a thing which puzzled me a bit. The artificial quality of most of the rest of this place had led me to expect a ruler-straight trail through a smooth-walled shaft, geometrically precise in all its features. Instead, it seemed as if we were traversing a series of natural caverns—stalactites, stalagmites, pillars, and pools displayed at either hand.
The Jewel cast a baleful light over any features I turned to scrutinize.
“Do you know how to use that stone?” Jurt asked me.
I thought back over my father’s story.
“When the time comes, I believe that I will,” I said, raising the Jewel and studying it for a moment, then letting it fall again. I was less concerned with it than with the route we were following.
I kept turning my head as we made our way from damp grotto to high cathedral chamber, along narrow passages, down stony waterfalls. There was something familiar here, though I couldn’t put my finger on it.
“Anything about this place bring back memories?” I asked him.
“Not for me,” Jurt replied.
We kept going, at one point passing a side cave containing three human skeletons. These being, in their fashion, the first real signs of life I had seen since the onset of this journey, I remarked on it.
Jurt nodded slowly.
“I am beginning to wonder whether we are still walking between shadows,” he said, “or whether we might actually have departed that place and entered Shadow—perhaps when we came into these caves.”
“I could find out by trying to summon the Logrus,” I said, causing Frakir immediately to pulse sharply upon my wrist. “But considering the metaphysical politics of the situation, I’d rather not.”
“I was just going by the colors of all the minerals in the walls,” he said. “The place we left behind kind of favored monochrome. Not that I give a shit about the scenery. What I’m saying is that if we have, it’s a kind of victory.”
I pointed at the ground.
“So long as that glowing trail is there, we’re not off the hook.”
“What if we simply walked away from it now?” he asked, turning to the right and taking a single step in that direction.
A stalactite vibrated and crashed to the ground before him. It missed him by about a foot. He was back beside me in an instant.
“Of course, it would be a real shame not to find out where we’re headed,” he said.
“Quests are that way. It’d be bad form to miss the fun.”
We hiked on. Nothing allegorical happened around us. Our voices and our footfalls echoed. Water dripped in some of the danker grots. Minerals flashed. Our way seemed a gradual descent.
For how long we walked I could not tell. After a time stony chambers took on a generic appearance—as if we passed regularly through a teleportation device which rerouted us back through the same caves and corridors. This had the effect of blurring my sense of time. Repetitious actions have a lulling effect and—
Suddenly our trail debouched into a larger passage, turned left. Finally, some variation. Only this way, too, looked familiar. We followed our line of light through the darkness. After a time we went by a side passage to the left. Jurt glanced up it and hurried past.
“Any damned thing might be lurking around here,” he observed.
“True,” I acknowledged. “But I wouldn’t worry about it.”
“Why not?”
“I think I’m beginning to understand.”
“Mind telling me what’s going on?”
“It’d take too long. Just wait. We’ll be finding out pretty soon.”
We went by another side passage. Similar, yet different. 0f course.
I increased my pace, anxious to learn the truth. Another sideway. I broke into a run . . .
Another . . .
Jurt pounded along beside me, the echoes falling about us. Up ahead. Soon.
Another turning.
And then I slowed, for the passage continued ahead but our trail didn’t. It curved to the left, vanishing beneath a big metal-bound door. I reached out to my right to where the hook was supposed to be, located it, removed the key that hung there. I inserted it, turned it, withdrew it, rehung it.
I don’t like this place, boss, Frakir noted.
I know.
“Seems as if you know what you’re doing,” Jurt remarked.
“Yep,” I said, then added, “Up to a point,” as I realized that this door opened
outward rather than inward.
I caught hold of the large handle to the left and began to pull upon it.
“Mind telling me where we’ve wound up?” he asked.
The big door creaked, commenced a slow movement as I walked backward.
“These are amazingly like a section of caverns in Kolvir beneath Amber Castle,” I replied.
“Great,” he said. “And what’s behind the door?”
“This is much like the entrance to the chamber which houses the Pattern in Amber.”
“Wonderful,” he said. “I’ll probably go up in a puff of smoke if I set foot inside.”
“But it is not quite the same,” I continued. “We had Suhuy come and look at the Pattern itself before I walked it. He didn’t suffer any ill effects from the proximity.”
“Our mother walked the Pattern.”
“Yes, that’s true.”
“Frankly, I think anyone of proper consanguinity in the Courts could walk the Pattern—and vice versa for my relatives in Amber with the Logrus. Tradition has it we’re all related from back somewhere in the dim and misty. Okay I’ll go in with you. There’s room to move around inside without touching the thing, isn’t there?”
“Yes.” I drew the door the rest of the way open, braced my shoulder against it, and stared. This was it. I saw that our glowing trail ended a few inches beyond the threshold.
I drew a deep breath and muttered some expletive as I let it go.
“What is it?” Jurt asked, trying to see past me.
“Not what I expected,” I told him.
I moved aside and let him have a look.
He stared for several seconds, then said, “I don’t understand.”
“I am not certain that I do either,” I said, “but I intend to find out.”
I entered the chamber, and he followed me. This was not the Pattern that I knew. Or rather, it was and wasn’t. It conformed to the same general configuration as the Pattern in Amber, only it was broken. There were several places where the lines had been erased, destroyed, removed in some fashion—or perhaps never properly executed in the first place. The ordinarily dark interline areas were bright, bluewhite, the lines themselves black. It was as if some essence had drained from the diagram to permeate the field. The lighted area seemd to ripple slowly as I viewed it.
The Great Book of Amber - Chronicles 1-10 Page 159