The Great Book of Amber - Chronicles 1-10

by Roger Zelazny

  So I found me a niche with a blank-walled, neutral background even a native probably couldn’t recognize out of context, dropped my invisibility spell, located Luke’s Trump, and gave him a call. I didn’t want him to think I was already in town because I didn’t want him to know I possessed the power to drop in the way I had. This under the theory that you never tell anybody everything.

  “Merlin!” he announced, studying me. “Is the cat out of the sack or what?”

  “Yeah, the kittens, too,” I said. “Congratulations on your coronation day ”

  “Hey! You’re wearing the school colors!”

  “What the hell. Why not? You won something, didn’t you?”

  “Listen. It’s not as festive a thing as all that. In fact, I was about to call you. I need your advice before this goes any further. Can you bring me through?”

  “I’m not in Amber, Luke.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Well . . . downstairs,” I admitted. “I’m on the side street between your palace and the building next door that’s sort of like a hotel at the moment.”

  “That won’t do,” he said. “I’d get spotted too quick if you bring me down. Go on over to the Unicorn Temple. If it’s relatively empty and there’s a dark, quiet corner where we can talk, call me and bring me through. If there isn’t, figure something else, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Hey, how’d you get here anyway?”

  “Advance scout for an invasion,” I said. “One more take-over would be a coup-coup, wouldn’t it?”

  “You’re about as funny as a hangover,” he said. “Call me.”

  Break. So I crossed the plaza, following what seemed marked out as the route of the procession. I thought I might meet some trouble at the House of the Unicorn and need a spell to get in, but no one barred my way.

  I entered. It was big and all decked out for the ceremony, with a great variety of pennons on the walls and flowers all over the place. The only other inhabitant was a muffled woman up near the front who appeared to be praying. I moved off to the left into a somewhat darker section.

  “Luke,” I addressed his Trump. “All clear. Do you read me?”

  I felt his presence before I caught the image. “Okay,” he said. “Bring me through,” and we clasped hands, and he was there.

  He clapped me on the shoulders.

  “Well, now, let me look at you,” he said. “Wonder whatever became of my letter sweater?”

  “I think you gave it to Gail.”

  “I think you may be right.”

  “Brought you a present,” I said, tossing back my cloak and fumbling at the side of my sword belt. “Here. I turned up your father’s sword.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  He took it into his hands, examined the sheath, turned it over many times. Then he drew it partway, and it hissed again and sparks danced along its tracery and a bit of smoke drifted upward from it.

  “It really is!” he said. “Werewindle, the Day-sword—brother to the Night-blade, Grayswandir!”

  “What’s that?” I said. “I didn’t know there was any connection.”

  “I’d have to think hard to remember the full story, but they go back a long way. Thank you.”

  He turned and took several paces, slapping the weapon against his thigh as he walked. Abruptly he returned.

  “I’ve been had,” he said. “That woman has done it again, and I am peeved to the extreme. I don’t know how to handle this.”

  “What? What are you talking about?”

  “My mother,” he explained. “She’s done it again. Just when I thought I’d taken the reins and was riding my own course, she’s come along and messed up my life.”

  “How’d she do that?”

  “She hired Dalt and his boys to take over here.”

  “Yeah, we sort of figured that out. By the way, what happened to Arkans?”

  “Oh, he’s okay. I’ve got him under arrest, of course. But he’s in good quarters and he can have anything he wants. I wouldn’t hurt him. I always kind of liked the guy.”

  “So what’s the problem? You win. You’ve got your own kingdom now.”

  “Hell,” he said, then glanced furtively toward the sanctum. “I think I was conned, but I’m not exactly sure. See, I never wanted this job. Dalt told me we were taking over for Mom. I was coming in with him to establish order, claim the place for the family again, then welcome her back with a lot of pomp and crap. I figured once she had her throne back, she’d be off my case for good. I’d hit it out of here for more congenial turf, and she’d have a whole kingdom to occupy her attention. Nothing was said about me getting stuck with this lousy job.”

  I shook my head.

  “I don’t understand at all,” I said. “You got it for her. Why not just turn it over to her and do as you planned?”

  He gave a humorless laugh.

  “Arkans they liked,” he said. “Me they like. Mom they’re not so fond of. Nobody seems that enthusiastic about having her back. In fact, there were strong indications that if she tried it, there would indeed be a coup-coup.”

  “I suppose you could still step aside and give it to Arkans.”

  Luke punched the stone wall.

  “I don’t know whether she’d be madder at me or at herself for having paid Dalt as much as she did to throw Arkans out. But she’d tell me it’s my duty to do it, and I don’t know—maybe it is. What do you think?”

  “That’s a hard one to answer, Luke. Who do you think would do a better job, you or Arkans?”

  “I honestly don’t know. He’s had a lot of experience in government, but I did grow up here, and I do know how the place is run and how to get things done. The only thing I’m sure of is that either of us would be better at it than Mom.”

  I folded my arms, and I thought hard.

  “I can’t make this decision for you,” I said. “But tell me, what would you most like to do?”

  He chuckled.

  “You know I’ve always been a salesman. If I were going to stick around and do something for Kashfa. I’d rather represent her industries abroad, which would be sort of undignified for a monarch. Probably what I’d be best at, though. I don’t know.”

  “It’s a problem and a half, Luke. I don’t want the responsibility of telling you which way to go.”

  “If I’d known it was going to come to this, I’d have smeared Dalt back in Arden.”

  “You really think you could take him?”

  “Believe it,” he said.

  “Well, that doesn’t solve your present problem.”

  “True. I’ve a strong feeling I may have to go through with this.”

  The woman up front glanced our way several times. I guess we were talking kind of loud for the surroundings.

  “Too bad there are no other good candidates,” I said, lowering my voice.

  “This must seem like pretty small beer to someone from Amber.”

  “Hell, it’s your home. You’ve got a right to take it seriously. I’m just sorry it’s doing such a job on you.”

  “Yeah, most problems seem to start at home, don’t they? Sometimes I just feel like taking a walk and not coming back.”

  “What would happen if you did?”

  “Either Mom would restore herself to the throne with Dalt’s gang to back her up, which would require a mess of executions of people I can think of who’d be against it, or she’d say the game isn’t worth the candle and settle for the Keep. If she decided to enjoy her retirement, then the coalition which backed him in the first place would probably spring Arkans and continue things from where they’d had to leave off.”

  “Which course of action seems most likely to you?” I said.

  “She’d go for it and there’d be a civil war. Win or lose, it would mess up the country and doubtless keep us out of the Golden Circle this time around, too. Speaking of which—”

  “I don’t know,” I said quickly. “I’m not empowered to talk Golden Circle T
reaty with you.”

  “I’d kind of guessed that,” Luke said, “and that wasn’t what I wanted to ask. I was just curious whether anyone back in Amber might have said, ‘They just blew it,’ or ‘Maybe we’ll give them another crack at it a little farther down the road,’ or ‘We’ll still deal, but they can forget the Eregnor guarantees’.”

  He gave me an artificial grin, and I returned it.

  “You can forget Eregnor,” I said.

  “Figured that,” he said. “What about the rest?”

  “I get the impression it’s ‘Let’s wait and see what happens.’”

  “Guessed that much, too. Give me a good report, even if they don’t ask, okay? By the way, I don’t suppose your presence here is technically official?”

  “Personal,” I said, “from a diplomatic standpoint.”

  The lady up front rose to her feet. Luke sighed.

  “Wish I could find my way back to Alice’s restaurant. Maybe the Hatter would see something we’re missing,” he said. Then: “Hey! Where’d he come from? Looks just like you but—”

  He was staring past me, and I could already feel the disturbance. I didn’t even bother to summon the Logrus, though, because I felt ready for anything.

  I turned, smiling.

  “Are you ready to die, brother?” Jurt asked. He had either managed to re-grow his eye or was wearing an artificial one, and he now had sufficient hair that I could no longer tell about the ear. His little finger was partly re-grown also.

  “No, but I’m ready to kill,” I said. “I’m glad you happened by.”

  He bowed, mockingly. There was a faint glow about him. I could feel the power that flowed through and around his person.

  “Have you been back to the Keep for your final treatment?” I inquired.

  “I don’t believe that will be necessary,” he said. “I am more than adequate for any task I’ve set myself, now I’ve control of these forces.”

  “This is Jurt?” Luke asked.

  “Yes,” I replied. “This is Jurt.”

  Jurt cast a quick glance Luke’s way. I could feel him focusing on the blade.

  “Is that a power object you bear?” he inquired. “Let me see it!”

  He extended his hand, and the weapon jerked within Luke’s grip but did not come loose.

  “No, thanks,” Luke said, and Jurt vanished. A moment later he appeared behind Luke, and his arm went around Luke’s neck in a choke. Luke gripped it with one hand, bowed, and turned and threw him over his shoulder.

  Jurt landed on his back before him, and Luke made no move to follow up on his action.

  “Draw that blade,” Jurt said, “and let me see it.” Then he shook himself like a dog and rose to his feet. “Well?” he said.

  “I see no need for a weapon in dealing with the likes of you,” Luke told him.

  Jurt raised both hands above his head and formed them into fists. They met, remained in contact for a moment. Then he drew them apart, his right hand somehow drawing a long blade out of his left.

  “You ought to take that show on the road,” Luke said, “now.”

  “Draw it!” Jurt said.

  “I don’t like the idea of fighting in a church,” Luke told him. “You want to step outside?”

  “Very funny,” Jurt replied. “I know you’ve got an army out there. No thanks. I’ll even take a certain pleasure in bloodying a Unicorn shrine.”

  “You ought to talk to Dalt,” Luke said. “He gets his kicks in weird ways, too. Can I get you a horse—or a chicken? Maybe some white mice and aluminum foil?”

  Jurt lunged. Luke stepped backward and drew his father’s blade. It hissed and crackled and smoked as he parried lightly and drove it forward. There was a sudden fear on Jurt’s face as he threw himself backward, batting at it, stumbling. As he fell, Luke kicked him in the stomach and Jurt’s blade went flying.

  “That’s Werewindle!” Jurt gasped. “How did you come by the sword of Brand?”

  “Brand was my father,” Luke said.

  A momentary look of respect passed over Jurt’s face.

  “I didn’t know . . . ” he muttered, and then he vanished.

  I waited. I extended magical feelers all over the place. But there was just Luke, myself and the lady, who had halted some distance from us, watching, as if afraid to come any nearer on her way out.

  Then Luke collapsed. Jurt was standing behind him, having just struck him on the back of the neck with his elbow. He reached then for Luke’s wrist, as if to seize it and wrench the blade from his hand.

  “It must be mine!” he said as I reached through the ring and struck him with a bolt of pure energy which I thought would rupture most of his organs and leave him a bleeding mass of jelly. Only for an instant had I considered using anything less than lethal force. I could see that sooner or later one of us was going to kill the other, and I’d decided to get it over with before he got lucky.

  But he was already lucky. His bath in the Fount must have toughened him even more than I’d thought. He spun around three times, as if he’d been clipped by a truck, and was slammed up against the wall. He sagged. He slipped to the floor. Blood came out of his mouth. He looked as if he were about to pass out. Then his eyes focused and his hands extended.

  A force similar to the one I’d just thrown at him struck at me. I was surprised by his ability to regroup and retaliate at that level with that speed. Not so surprised that I wasn’t able to parry it, though. I took a step forward then and tried to set him afire with a beautiful spell the ring suggested. Rising, he was able to shield against it within moments of his clothes’ beginning to smolder. I kept coming, and he created a vacuum around me. I pierced it and kept breathing. Then I invoked a battering ram spell which the ring showed me, even more forceful than the first working with which I’d hit him.

  He vanished before it hit, and a crack ran up three feet of the stone wall which had been behind him. I sent sense-tendrils all over and spotted him seconds later, crouched on a cornice high overhead. He launched himself at me just as I looked up.

  I didn’t know whether it would break my hand or not, but I felt it would be worth it, even so, as I levitated. I contrived to pass him at about the midway point, and I hit him with a left, which I hoped broke his neck as well as his jaw. Unfortunately it also broke my levitation spell, and I tumbled to the floor along with him.

  I heard the lady cry out as we fell, and she came rushing toward us. We lay stunned for several heartbeats. Then he rolled over onto his stomach, reached, hunched and fell, reached again.

  His hand fell upon the haft of Werewindle. He must have felt my gaze as his fingers tightened about it, for he glanced at me and smiled. I heard Luke mutter a curse and stir. I threw a deep freeze spell at Jurt, but he trumped out before the cold front hit.

  Then the lady screamed again, and even before I turned, I knew that the voice had been Coral’s. Reappearing, Jurt half collapsed against her from the rear, finding her throat with the edge of that bright, smoldering blade.

  “Nobody,” he gasped, “move . . . or I’ll carve her . . . an extra smile.”

  I sought after a quick spell that would finish him without endangering her.

  “Don’t try it, Merle,” he said. “I’ll feel it . . . coming. Just leave me . . . alone . . . for half a minute . . . and you’ll get to live . . . a little longer. I don’t know where you picked up . . . those extra tricks . . . but they won’t save you—”

  He was panting and covered with sweat. The blood still dripped from his mouth.

  “Let go of my wife,” Luke said, rising, “or there’ll never be anyplace you’ll be able to hide.”

  “I don’t want you for an enemy, son of Brand,” Jurt said.

  “Then do as I say, fella. I’ve taken out better men than you.”

  And then Jurt screamed as if his soul were on fire. Werewindle moved away from Coral’s throat, and Jurt backed off and began jerking, like a puppet whose joints have seized up but whose strings are
still being yanked. Coral turned toward him, her back to Luke and me. Her right hand rose to her face. After a time Jurt fell to the floor and curled into a fetal position. A red light seemed to be playing upon him. He was shaking steadily, and I could even hear his teeth chattering.

  Abruptly, then, he was gone, trailing rainbows, leaving blood and spittle, bearing Werewindle with him. I sent a parting bolt after, but I knew that it did not reach him. I’d felt Julia’s presence at the other end of the spectrum, and despite everything else, I was pleased to know that I had not slain her yet. But Jurt—Jurt was very dangerous now, I realized. For this was the first time we’d fought that he hadn’t left a piece of himself behind, had even taken something away with him. Something deadly. He was learning, and that did not bode well.

  When I turned my head, I caught sight of the red glow before Coral lowered her eyepatch, and I realized what had become of the Jewel of Judgment, though not, of course, why.

  “Wife?” I said.

  “Well, sort of . . . Yes,” she replied.

  Roger Zelazny

  Prince of Chaos

  The Second Amber Pentology - Merlin’s Story: Book 5

  1

  See one coronation and you’ve seen them all. Sounds cynical and probably is, especially when the principal is your best friend and his queen’s your inadvertent lover. But there’s generally a procession, with a lot of slow music, and uncomfortable, colorful garb, incense, speeches, prayers, the ringing of bells. They are tedious, generally hot, and requiring of one an insincere attention, as at weddings, commencements, and secret initiations.

  And so Luke and Coral became the sovereigns of Kashfa, in the same church where we’d fought almost—but, unfortunately, not quite—to the death with my mad brother Jurt but a few hours before. As Amber’s only representative at the event—albeit of, technically, unofficial status—I was accorded a ringside standing-place, and eyes were often drifting my way. So I had to keep alert and mouth appropriate responses. While Random would not permit formal status to my presence at the ceremony, I knew he’d be irritated if he heard that my behavior was less than diplomatically sound.

  So I wound up with hurting feet, a stiff neck, and colorful garments soaked with sweat. That’s show biz. Still, I wouldn’t have had it any other way. Luke and I go back through some of the damnedest times, and I couldn’t help but think of them—from sword’s point to track meets, from art galleries and into Shadow—as I stood there sweltering and wondering what would become of him now he wore a crown. Such an occurrence had changed my uncle Random from a happy-go-lucky musician, footloose and degenerate, into a sage and responsible monarch—though I’ve only my relatives’ reports when it comes to knowing about the first. I found myself hoping it wouldn’t mellow Luke out all that much. Still—again—Luke was a very different person than Random, not to mention ages younger. Amazing what years can do, though—or is it just the nature of events? I realized myself to be a lot different than I had been not so very long ago, from all that had happened to me recently. A lot different than I’d been yesterday, come to think of it.