“Oh,” I said. “See you in a bit, before I take off.”
“Do that,” he replied, and I turned and found my way through one of the day’s many broken walls and on into my room.
The far wall had also been blasted, I noticed, creating a large opening into Brand’s dusty chambers. I paused and studied it. Synchronicity, I decided. It appeared there had once been an archway connecting those rooms with these. I moved forward and examined the exposed curve along its left side. Yes, it had been rendered from stones similar to the one I held. In fact—
I brushed away plaster and slid mine into a broken area. It fitted perfectly. In fact, when I gave it a small tug, it refused to be removed. Had I really brought it back from the sinister father-mother-brother-lovers ritual dream beyond the mirror? Or had I half-consciously picked it up on my return, from wherever it had been blasted during the recent architectural distress?
I turned away, removing my cloak, stripping off my shirt. Yes. There were punctures like fork marks on my right shoulder, something like an animal bite on my left. Also, there was dried blood on my left trouser leg in the area of a tear beyond which my thigh was tender. I washed up and brushed my teeth and combed my hair, and I put a dressing on my leg and left shoulder. The family metabolism would see me healed in a day, but I didn’t want some exertion tearing them open and getting fresh garments gory.
Speaking of which . . .
The armoire was undamaged and I thought I’d wear my other colors, to give Luke a happy memory or two for his coronation: the golden shirt and royal blue trousers I’d found which approximated Berkeley’s colors almost exactly; a leather vest dyed to match the pants; matching cloak with gold trim; black sword belt, black gloves tucked behind it, reminding me I needed a new blade. Dagger, too, for that matter. I was wondering about a hat when a series of sounds caught my attention. I turned.
Through a fresh screen of dust I now had a symmetrical view into Brand’s quarters; rather than a jagged opening in the wall the archway stood perfect and entire, the wall intact at either hand and above. The wall to my right also seemed less damaged than it had been earlier.
I moved forward and ran my hand along the curve of stones. I inspected adjacent plastered areas, looking for cracks. There were none. All right. The stone had borne an enchantment. To what end?
I strode through the archway and looked around. The room was dark, and I summoned the Logrus sight reflexively. It came and served me, as usual. Perhaps the Logrus had decided against holding a grudge.
At this level I could see the residue of many magical experiments as well as a number of standing spells. Most sorcerers leave a certain amount of not normally visible magical clutter about, but Brand seemed to have been a real slob, though of course, he might have been rushed quite a bit near the end there when he was trying to take over control of the universe. It’s not the sort of occupation wherein neatness counts the way it might in other endeavors. I passed on along my tour of inspection. There were mysteries here, unfinished bits of business and indications that he had gone farther along some magical routes than I had ever wished to go. Still, there was nothing here that I felt I could not handle and nothing representing grave and immediate danger. It was just possible, now I’d finally had an opportunity to inspect them, that I might want to leave the archway intact and add Brand’s quarters to my own.
On the way out I decided to check Brand’s armoire to see whether he had a hat to go with what I was wearing. I opened it and discovered a dark three-cornered one with a golden feather, which fitted me perfectly. The color was a little off, but I suddenly recalled a spell which altered it. As I was about to turn away, something to the rear of that top shelf which held the hats glinted for a moment within my Logrus vision. I reached in and withdrew it.
It was a long and lovely gold-chased sheath of dark green, and the hilt of the blade which protruded from it appeared to be gold-plated, with an enormous emerald set in its pommel. I took hold of it and drew it partway, half expecting it to wail like a demon on whom one has dropped a balloon filled with holy water. Instead, it merely hissed and smoked a little. And there was a bright design worked into the metal of its blade—almost recognizable. Yes, a section of the Pattern. Only this excerpting was from the Pattern’s end, whereas Grayswandir’s was from a point near the beginning.
I sheathed it, and on an impulse I hung it from my belt. His old man’s sword would make a neat coronation present for Luke, I decided. So I’d take it along for him. I let myself out into the side corridor then made my way over a small section of collapsed wall from Gerard’s quarters and back past Fiona’s door to my dad’s rooms. There was one thing more I wanted to check, and the sword had reminded me. I fished in my pocket for the key I’d transferred from my bloody trousers. Then I decided I’d better knock. What if . . .
I knocked and waited, knocked again and waited again. In that nothing but silence ensued I unlocked the door and entered. I went no farther than that first place. I’d just wanted to check the rack.
Grayswandir was gone from the peg where I’d hung it. I backed out, closing and locking the door. The fact that the row of pegs had been empty was an instance of obtaining the knowledge one wanted and still not being certain what one had proved thereby. Yet it had been something I’d wished to know, and it did make me feel that final knowledge was nearer than it had been. . . .
I walked back, past Fiona’s rooms. I reentered Brand’s rooms through the door I had left ajar. I hunted around till I spotted a key in a nearby ashtray. I locked the door and pocketed the key; that was almost silly because anyone could walk in from my room now and my room was missing a wall. Still . . .
I hesitated before crossing back to my sitting room with its Tabriz stained with ty’iga spit and partly covered by fallen wall. There was something almost restful about Brand’s quarters, a kind of peaceful quality I hadn’t really noticed before. I wandered a bit, opening drawers and looking inside magic boxes, studying a folder of the man’s drawings. The Logrus sight showed me that something small and potent and magical was secreted in a bedpost, radiating lines of force every which way. I unscrewed the knob, found the compartment within it. It contained a small velvet bag which bore a ring. The band was wide, possibly of platinum. It bore a wheel-like device of some reddish metal, with countless tiny spokes, many of them hair-fine. And each of these spokes extended a line of power leading off somewhere, quite possibly into Shadow, where some power cache of spell source lay. Perhaps Luke would rather have the ring than the sword. When I slipped it on, it seemed to extend roots to the very center of my body. I could feel my way back along them to the ring and then out along those connections. I was impressed by the variety of energies it reached and controlled—from simple chthonic forces to sophisticated constructs of High Magic, from elementals to things that seemed like lobotomized gods. I wondered why he hadn’t been wearing it on the day of the Patternfall battle. If he had, I’d a feeling he might have been truly invincible. We could all have been living on Brandenberg in Castle Brand. I wondered, too, why Fiona, in the next room over, had not felt its presence and come looking for it. On the other hand, I hadn’t. For what it was, it didn’t register well at all, beyond a few feet. It was amazing the treasures this place contained. Was it something about the private universe effect said to obtain in some of these rooms? The ring was a beautiful alternative to Pattern Power or Logrus Power, hooked in as it was with so many sources. It must have taken centuries to empower the thing. Whatever Brand had wanted it for, it had not been part of a short-range plan. I decided I could not surrender the thing to Luke—or to anyone with any familiarity with the Arts. I didn’t even think I should trust a non-magician with it. And I certainly didn’t feel like returning it to the bedpost. What was that throbbing at my wrist? Oh, yes, Frakir. It had been going on for some small while, and I’d barely noticed.
“Sorry you lost your voice, old girl,” I said, stroking her as I explored the room for threats both psychic and p
hysical. “I can’t find a damned thing here that I should be worried about.”
Immediately she spiraled down from my wrist and tried to remove the ring from my finger.
“Stop!” I ordered. “I know the ring could be dangerous. But only if you use it wrongly. I’m a sorcerer, remember? I’m into these matters. There is nothing special about it for me to fear.”
But Frakir disobeyed my order and continued her attack on the ring, which I could now only attribute to some form of magical artifact jealousy. I tied her in a tight knot around the bedpost and left her there, to teach her a lesson.
I began to search the apartment more diligently. If I were to keep the sword and the ring, it would be nice to find something else of his father’s that I could take to Luke—
“Merlin! Merlin!” I heard bellowed from somewhere beyond my room.
Rising from a tapping of the floor and lower walls, where I had been seeking hollow spots, I returned to my archway and passed through into my own sitting room. I halted then despite another summons in what I now recognized to be Random’s voice. The wall which faced upon the side corridor was more than half rebuilt since last I had viewed it—as if an invisible crew of carpenters and plasterers had been silently at work since I had positioned the dream-stone in the gateway to the kingdom of Brand. Amazing. I simply stood and stared, hoping for some betraying bit of business within the damaged area. Then I heard Random mutter, “I guess he’s gone,” and I called back, “Yeah? What is it?”
“Get your ass up here quick,” he said. “I need your advice.”
I stepped out into the corridor through the opening which remained in that wall, and I looked upward, Immediately I could feel the capabilities in the ring that I wore, responding like a musical instrument to my most immediate need. The appropriate line was activated as I assented to the suggestion, and I took the gloves from behind my belt and drew them on as I was levitated toward the opening in the ceiling. This, because it had occurred to me that Random might recognize the ring as having once been Brand’s, and that could lead to a complicated discussion I’d no desire for at the moment.
I held my cloak close to my side as I came up through the hole into the studio, to keep the blade under wraps also.
“Impressive,” Random said. “Glad you’re keeping the magical muscle exercised. That’s what I called you for.”
I gave him a bow. Being dressed up made me feel vaguely courtly.
“How may I be of service?’
“Cut the crap and come on,” he said, taking hold of my elbow and steering me back toward the demi-bedroom. Vialle stood at the door, holding it open.
“Merlin?” she said as I brushed by.
“Yes?” I answered.
“I wasn’t certain,” she said.
“Of what?” I asked.
“That it was you,” she responded.
“Oh, it’s me, all right,” I said.
“It is indeed my brother,” Mandor stated, rising from his chair and approaching us. His arm was splinted and slung, his face considerably relaxed. “If anything about him strikes you as strange,” he continued, “it is likely because he has had a number of traumatic experiences since he left here.”
“Is that true?” Random asked.
“Yes,” I replied. “I didn’t realize it was all that apparent.”
“Are you all right?” Random asked.
“I seem to be intact,” I said.
“Good. Then we’ll save the particulars of your story for another time. As you can see, Coral is gone and Dworkin is, too. I didn’t see them go. I was still in the studio when it happened.”
“When what happened?” I asked.
“Dworkin finished his operation,” Mandor said, “took the lady by the hand, drew her to her feet, and transported her away from here. It was most elegantly managed. One moment they stood at the bedside; the next their afterimages ran through the spectrum and winked out.”
“You say that he transported them. How do you know that they weren’t snatched away by Ghostwheel or one of the Powers?” I asked.
“Because I watched his face,” he said, “and there was no surprise whatsoever upon it, only a small smile.”
“I guess you’re right,” I admitted. “Then who set your arm, if Random was off in the studio and Dworkin occupied?”
“I did,” Vialle said. “I’ve been trained in it.”
“So you were the only eyewitness to their vanishment?” I said to Mandor.
He nodded.
“What I want of you,” Random said, “is some idea where they flashed off to. Mandor said he couldn’t tell. Here!”
He handed me a chain, from which a metal setting hung.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“It was the most important of all the Crown Jewels,” he said, “the Jewel of Judgment. This is what they left me. The Jewel part is what they took.”
“Oh,” I said. Then: “It must be secure if it’s in Dworkin’s care. He’d said something about putting it in a safe place, and he knows more about it than anyone else—”
“He may also have flipped out again,” Random said. “I’m not interested in discussing his merits as its custodian, though. I just want to know where the hell he’s gone with the thing.”
“I don’t believe he left any tracks,” Mandor said.
“Where were they standing?” I asked.
“Over there,” he said, with a gesture of the good arm, “to the right of the bed.”
I moved to that area, feeling through the potencies I ruled after the most appropriate.
“A little nearer the foot.”
I nodded, feeling it would not be all that difficult to look back a small distance through time within my personal space.
I felt the rainbow rush and saw their outlines. Freeze.
A power line moved forth from the ring, attached itself, ran rainbow with them, passed through the portal which closed with a mild implosion. Raising the back of my hand to my forehead, I seemed to look down the line—
—into a large hall hung with six shields to my left. To my right hung a multitude of flags and pennons. A fire blazed in an enormous hearth before me. . . .
“I see the place they went to,” I said, “but I don’t recognize it.”
“Is there some way you can share the vision?” Random asked.
“Perhaps,” I replied, realizing there was a way even as I said it. “Regard the mirror.”
Random turned, moved nearer the looking glass through which Dworkin had brought me—how long ago? “By the blood of the beast on the pole and the shell that is cracked at the center of the world,” I said, feeling the need to address two of the powers I controlled, “may the sight be cast!”
The mirror frosted over, and when it cleared, my vision of the hall lay within it.
“I’ll be damned,” Random said. “He took her to Kashfa. I wonder why ”
“One day you’ll have to teach me that trick, brother,” Mandor commented.
“In that I was about to head for Kashfa,” I said, “is there anything special I should do?”
“Do?” Random said. “Just find out what’s going on and let me know, will you?”
“Of course,” I said, uncasing my Trumps.
Vialle came up and took my hand as if in farewell.
“Gloves,” she commented.
“Trying to look a little formal,” I explained.
“There is something in Kashfa that Coral seems to fear,” she whispered. “She muttered about it in her sleep.”
“Thanks,” I said. “I’m ready for anything now.”
“You may say that for confidence,” she said, “but never believe it.”
I laughed as I held a Trump before me and pretended to study it while extending the force of my being along the line I had sent to Kashfa. I reopened the route Dworkin had taken and stepped through.
12
Kashfa.
I stood in the gray stone hall, flags and shields on the
walls, rushes strewn about the floors, rude furniture about me, a fire before me which did not completely dispel the dampness of the place, cooking smells heavy on the air. I was the only person in the room, though I could hear voices from many directions; also the sounds of musicians tuning and practicing. So I had to be fairly near the action. The disadvantage of coming in the way I did rather than using a Trump was that there was no one on the spot to show me around and tell me what was going on. The advantage was the same—that is, if there were any spying I wanted to do, now was the time. The ring, a veritable encyclopedia of magics, found me an invisibility spell in which I quickly cloaked myself.
I spent the next hour or so exploring. There were four large buildings and a number of smaller ones within this central walled area. There was another walled sector beyond it and another beyond that—three roughly concentric zones of ivy-covered protection. I couldn’t see any signs of heavy damage, and I got the feeling Dalt’s troops hadn’t met with much resistance. No indications of pillaging or burning, but then they’d been hired to deliver a property, and I’d a feeling Jasra had stipulated that it remain relatively intact. The troops occupied all three rings, and I got the impression from a bit of eavesdropping that they’d be around till after the coronation. There were quite a few in the large plaza in the central area, making fun of the local troops in their fancy livery as they waited for the coronation procession. None of this was in particular bad nature, however, possibly because Luke was popular with both groups, though it did also seem that many individuals on both sides seemed personally acquainted.
The First Unicornian Church of Kashfa, as one might translate its title, was across the plaza from the palace proper. The building in which I’d arrived was an ancillary, all-purpose adjunct, at this time being used to house a number of hastily summoned guests, along with servants, courtiers, and hangers-on.
I’d no idea exactly when the coronation was to take place, but I decided I’d better try to see Luke in a hurry, before he got too swept up into the course of events. He might even have an idea where Coral had been delivered, and why.
The Great Book of Amber - Chronicles 1-10 Page 167