The Chronicles of Amber

by Roger Zelazny

  “Which part?” he asked.

  “Both,” I answered.

  “That wasn’t the main thing I came to tell you,” he went on. “There’s something going on at a military level.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “It’s even easier to show you,” he explained. “It should only take a minute.”

  “Okay. Let’s go,” I agreed, and I followed him out into the hall.

  He led the way down the back stair and turned left at its foot. We moved on past the kitchen and followed another hallway which turned off toward the rear. As we did, I heard some rattling sounds from up ahead. I glanced at Bill, who nodded.

  “That’s what I heard earlier,” he told me, “when I was passing by. That’s why I took a walk up this way. Everything around here makes me curious.”

  I nodded, understanding the feeling. Especially when I knew that the sounds were coming from the main armory. Benedict stood in the midst of activity, peering at his thumbnail through a rifle barrel. He looked up immediately and our eyes met. Perhaps a dozen men moved about him, carrying weapons, cleaning weapons, stacking weapons.

  “I thought you were in Kashfa,” I said.

  “Was,” he replied.

  I gave him a chance to continue, but nothing was forthcoming. Benedict has never been noted for loquacity.

  “Looks like you’re getting ready for something close to home,” I remarked, knowing that gunpowder was useless here and that the special ammo we had only worked in the area of Amber and certain adjacent kingdoms.

  “Always best to be safe,” he said.

  “Would you care to elaborate on that?” I asked.

  “Not now,” he answered, a reply twice as long as I’d anticipated and holding out hope of future enlightenment.

  “Should we all be digging in?” I asked. “Fortifying the town? Arming ourselves? Raising—”

  “It won’t come to that,” he said. “Just go on about your business.”

  “But—”

  He turned away. I’d a feeling the conversation was over. I was sure of it when he ignored my next several questions. I shrugged and turned back to Bill.

  “Let’s go eat,” I said.

  As we walked back up the hall, Bill said softly, “Any idea what it means?”

  “Dalt’s in the neighborhood,” I told him.

  “Benedict was in Begma with Random. Dalt could be causing trouble there.”

  “I’ve a feeling he’s nearer.”

  “If Dalt were to capture Random. . . . ”

  “Impossible,” I said, feeling a slight chill at the idea.

  “Random can trump back here anytime he wants. No. When I talked about defending Amber, and Benedict said, ‘It won’t come to that,’ I got the impression he was talking about something close at hand. Something he feels he can control.”

  “I see what you mean,” he agreed. “But then he told you not to bother fortifying.”

  “If Benedict feels we don’t need to fortify, then we don’t need to fortify.”

  “Waltz and drink champagne while the cannons boom?”

  “If Benedict says it’s okay.”

  “You really trust that guy. What would you do without him?”

  “Be more nervous,” I said.

  He shook his head. “Excuse me,” he said. “I’m not used to being acquainted with legends.”

  “You don’t believe me?”

  “I shouldn’t believe you, but I do believe you. That’s the trouble.” He was silent as we turned the corner and headed back toward the stair. Then he added, “It was that way whenever I was around your father, too.”

  “Bill,” I said, as we began to climb. “You knew my dad back before he regained his memory, when he was just plain old Carl Corey. Maybe I’ve been going about this thing wrong. Is there anything you can recall about that phase of his life which might explain where he is now?”

  He halted a moment and looked at me.

  “Don’t think I haven’t thought about that angle, Merle. Many a time I’ve wondered whether he might have been involved in something as Corey that he’d have felt obliged to follow through on once his business here was finished. But he was a very secretive man, even in that incarnation. Paradoxical, too. He’d done a lot of hitches in a lot of different varieties of military, which seems logical enough. But he sometimes wrote music, which goes against that hard-ass image.”

  “He’d lived a long time. He’d learned a lot, felt lot.”

  “Exactly, and that’s what makes it hard to guess why he might have been involved in. Once or twice when he’d had a few drinks he’d mention people in the arts and sciences I’d never have guessed him to be acquainted with. He was never just plain Carl Corey. He had a few centuries worth of Earth memory when I knew him. That makes for a character too complex to be easily predictable. I just don’t know what he might have gone back to—if he went back.”

  We continued on up the stairway. Why did I feel that Bill knew more than he was telling me?

  I heard music as we neared the dining room, and when we entered, Llewella gave me a nasty look. I saw that food was being kept warm at a serving table off against the far wall, and no one was seated yet. People stood about talking, drinks in hand, and most of them glanced in our direction as we entered. Three musicians were playing, off to my right. The dining table was to my left, near the big window in the south wall, providing a glorious view across the town below. It was still snowing lightly, casting a spectral veil over the entire bright prospect.

  Llewella approached quickly.

  “You’ve kept everybody waiting,” she whispered. “Where’s the girl?”

  “Coral?”

  “Who else?”

  “I’m not sure where she’s gotten off to,” I said. “We parted company a couple of hours ago.”

  “Well, is she coming or isn’t she?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “We can’t keep things waiting any longer,” she said. “And now the seating arrangement’s screwed. What did you do, wear her out?”

  “Llewella. . . . ”

  She muttered something I didn’t understand in some lisping Rebman dialect. Just as well, probably. She turned away then and moved off toward Vialle.

  “You in a heap of trouble, boy,” Bill commented at my side. “Let’s hit the bar while she’s reassigning places.”

  But the wine steward was already approaching with a couple of drinks on a tray.

  “Bayle’s Best,” he observed as we took them.

  I sipped and saw that he was right, which heartened me a bit.

  “I don’t recognize all of these people,” Bill said. “Who’s that fellow with the red sash, over by Vialle?”

  “That’s Orkuz, the Begman prime minister,” I told him, “and the rather attractive lady in the yellow-and-red dress who’s talking to Martin is his daughter Nayda. Coral—the one I just got chewed out about—is her sister.”

  “Uh-huh. And who’s the husky blond lady batting her eyes at Gerard?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “And I don’t know that lady and the guy over to the right of Orkuz either.”

  We drifted inward, and Gerard, looking perhaps a trifle uncomfortable in layers of ruffled finery, introduced us to the lady he was with as Dretha Gannell, assistant to the Begman ambassador. The ambassador, it turned out, was the tall lady standing near Orkuz—and her name, I gathered, was Ferla Quist. The fellow with her was her secretary, whose name sounded something like Cade. While we were looking in that direction, Gerard tried slipping off and leaving us with Ferla. But she caught his sleeve and asked him something about the fleet. I smiled and nodded and moved away. Bill came along.

  “Goodness! Martin’s changed!” he announced suddenly. “He Looks like a one-man rock video. I almost didn’t recognize him. Just last week—”

  “It’s been over a year,” I said, “for him. He’s been off finding himself on some street scene.”

  “I wonder if he
’s finished?”

  “Didn’t get a chance to ask him that,” I replied, but a peculiar thought occurred to me. I shelved it.

  The music died just then, and Llewella cleared her throat and indicated Hendon, who announced the new seating arrangement. I was at the foot of the table, and I learned later that Coral was to have been seated to my left and Cade to my right. I also learned later that Llewella had tried to get hold of Flora at the last minute to sit in Coral’s place, but Flora wasn’t taking any calls.

  As it was, Vialle, at the head, had Llewella seated to her right and Orkuz to her left, with Gerard, Dretha, and Bill below Llewella, and Ferla, Martin, Cade, and Nayda below Orkuz. I found myself escorting Nayda to the table and seating her to my right, while Bill settled himself at my left.

  “Fuss, fuss, fuss,” Bill muttered softly, and I nodded, then introduced him to Nayda as counsel to the House of Amber. She looked impressed and asked him about his work. He proceeded to charm her with a story about once having represented the interests of a dog in an estate settlement, which had nothing to do with Amber but was a good story. Got her to laughing a bit, and also Cade, who was listening in.

  The first course was served and the musicians began playing again, softly, which shortened the distance our voices carried and reduced conversation to a more intimate level. At this, Bill signaled he had something he wanted to tell me, but Nayda had beaten him by a second or two and I was already listening to her.

  “About Coral,” she said softly. “Are you sure she’s all right? She wasn’t feeling ill when you parted—or anything like that—was she?”

  “No,” I answered. “She seemed healthy enough.”

  “Strange,” she said. “I had the impression she was looking forward to things like this dinner.”

  “She’s obviously taking longer than she’d intended in whatever she’s about,” I observed.

  “What exactly was she about?” Nayda asked. “Where did you part?”

  “Here in the palace,” I replied. “I was showing her around. She wanted to spend more time with certain features of the place than I could spare. So I came on ahead.”

  “I don’t think she could have forgotten dinner.”

  “I think she got caught up by the power of an artistic piece.”

  “So she’s definitely on the premises?”

  “Now, that’s hard to say. As I said before, a person can always step out.”

  “You mean you’re not sure exactly where she is?” I nodded.

  “I’m not certain where she is at this moment,” I said. “She could well be back in her room changing her clothes.”

  “I’ll check after dinner,” she said, “if she hasn’t shown up by then. If that should be the case, will you help me find her?”

  “I was planning on looking for her anyway,” I answered, “if she doesn’t put in an appearance soon.”

  She nodded and continued eating. Very awkward.

  Beyond the fact that I didn’t want to distress her, I couldn’t very well tell her what had happened without its becoming apparent that her sister was indeed an illegitimate daughter of Oberon. At a time such as this, when I had been cautioned about saying anything that might strain relations between Amber and Begma, I was not about to confirm to the daughter of the Begman prime minister the rumor that her mother had had an affair with the late king of Amber. Maybe it was an open secret back in Begma and nobody gave a damn. But maybe it wasn’t. I didn’t want to disturb Random for advice, partly because he might be extremely occupied in Kashfa just now, but mainly because he might also start asking me about my own immediate plans and problems, and I would not lie to him. That could get me into too much trouble. Such a conversation might well also result in his forbidding my attack on the Keep. The only other person I could tell about Coral and get some sort of official response from as to how far I might go in informing her family, was Vialle. Unfortunately, Vialle was completely occupied as hostess at the moment.

  I sighed and returned to my dinner.

  Bill caught my attention and leaned a little in my direction. I leaned a little, too.

  “Yes?” I said.

  “There were some things I wanted to tell you,” he began. “I was hoping for some leisure, some quiet, and some privacy, though.”

  I chuckled.

  “Exactly,” he continued. “I believe this is the best we’re going to get for a time. Fortunately, voices don’t seem to be carrying if one keeps them down. I couldn’t make out what you and Nayda were talking about. So it’s probably okay, so long as the musicians keep playing.”

  I nodded, took a few more bites.

  “Thing is, the Begmans shouldn’t hear about it, on the one hand. But on the other, I feel that perhaps you ought to know, because of your involvement with Luke and Jasra. So what’s your schedule? I’d rather tell you later, but if you’re going to be tied up, I can give you the gist of it now.”

  I glanced at Nayda and Cade. They seemed totally occupied with their food, and I didn’t think they could overhear us. Unfortunately, I didn’t have any sort of sheltering spells hung.

  “Go ahead,” I whispered from behind my wine glass.

  “First,” he said, “Random sent me a whole slew of papers to go over. They’re the draft of an agreement whereby Amber will grant Kashfa privileged trade status, the same as Begma. So they’ll definitely be coming into the Golden Circle.”

  “I see,” I said. “That doesn’t come as a complete surprise. But it’s good to know for sure what’s going on.”

  He nodded.

  “There’s a lot more to it, though,” he said.

  Just then the musicians stopped playing and I could hear voices from all around the table again. I glanced off to the right and saw that a steward had just taken the players a food tray and some wine. They were setting their instruments aside and taking a break. They had probably been playing for some time before I’d arrived and were doubtless due a rest.

  Bill chuckled. “Later,” he said.

  “Right.” There followed a funny little fruit dish with an amazing sauce. As I spooned it away, Nayda caught my attention with a gesture and I leaned toward her again.

  “So what about tonight?” she whispered.

  “What do you mean? I said I’d look for her if she doesn’t show up.”

  She shook her head. “I wasn’t referring to that,” she said. “I meant later. Will you have time to stop by and talk?”

  “About what?”

  “According to your file you’ve been in a bit of trouble recently, with someone trying to get you.”

  I began wondering about that damned file. But, “It’s out of date,” I said. “Whatever’s in there has already been cleared up.”

  “Really? Then nobody’s after you just now?”

  “I wouldn’t say that,” I replied. “The cast of characters keeps changing.”

  “So somebody still has you marked?”

  I studied her face.

  “You’re a nice lady, Nayda,” I said, “but I’ve got to ask, What is it to you? Everybody has problems. I just have more than usual at the moment. I’ll work them out.”

  “Or die trying?”

  “Maybe. I hope not. But what’s your interest?”

  She glanced at Cade, who seemed busy with his food,. “It is possible that I could help you.”

  “In what fashion?”

  She smiled.

  “A process of elimination,” she stated.

  “Oh? That refers to a person or persons?”

  “Indeed.”

  “You have some special means of going about this sort of business?”

  She continued to smile.

  “Yes, it’s good for removing problems caused by people,” she continued. “All I’ll need are their names and locations.”

  “Some sort of secret weapon?”

  She glanced at Cade again, since I had raised my voice a bit.

  “You might call it that,” she answered.

&n
bsp; “An interesting proposal,” I said. “But you still haven’t answered my first question.”

  “Refresh my memory.”

  We were interrupted by the wine steward, who came around topping off goblets, and then by another toast. The first had been to Vialle, led by Llewella. This one was proposed by Orkuz, to “the ancient alliance between Amber and Begma.” I drank to that, and I heard Bill mutter, “It’s going to get a bit more strained.”

  “The alliance?” I said.

  “Yep.”

  I glanced at Nayda, who was staring at me, clearly expecting a resumption of our sotto voces. Bill noted this, too, and turned away. Just then Cade began talking to Nayda, however, so I finished what was on my plate and took a sip of wine while I waited. In a little while the plate was whisked away, to be replaced shortly by another.

  I glanced at Bill who glanced at Nayda and Cade, then said, “Wait for the music.”

  I nodded. In a sudden moment of silence I overheard Dretha say, “Is it true that King Oberon’s ghost is sometimes seen?” Gerard grunted something that sounded like an affirmative just as they were drowned out again. My mind being a lot fuller than my stomach, I kept eating. Cade, trying to be diplomatic or just conversational, turned my way a little later, addressed me and asked my views on the Eregnor situation. He jerked suddenly then and looked at Nayda. I’d a strong feeling she’d just kicked him under the table, which was fine with me because I didn’t know what the hell the Eregnor situation was. I muttered something about there being things to be said for both sides of most matters, which seemed diplomatic enough for anything. If it were something barbed, I supposed I could have countered with an innocent-sounding observation about the Begman party’s early arrival, but Eregnor might actually be some tedious conversation piece that Nayda didn’t want to get into because it would cut off our own discussion. Also, I’d a feeling that Llewella might suddenly materialize and kick me under the table.

  A thought hit suddenly then. Sometimes I’m a little slow. Obviously, they had known Random wasn’t here, and from what I already knew and from what Bill had just said, they weren’t too happy with whatever Random was about in the neighboring kingdom. Their early arrival seemed intended to embarrass us in some fashion. Did that mean that whatever Nayda was offering me was part of some scheme that fitted in with their general diplomatic strategy on this matter? If so, why me? I was a very poor choice, in that I had no say whatsoever concerning Amber’s foreign policy. Were they aware of this? They must be, if their intelligence service were as good as Nayda had indicated. I was baffled, and I was half tempted to ask Bill his views on the Eregnor situation. But then he might have kicked me under the table.