The Chronicles of Amber

by Roger Zelazny

  Jurt nodded.

  “It’s possible Brand could have been partly victim of a plan originated in the Courts,” he said, “part of an idea that’s still alive there.”

  “We’d better go for the whole breakfast,” Luke said. “Let’s swing around back and take it in the kitchen.” We followed him down a garden path.

  And so we ate and talked as the day brightened about us. Luke insisted I try Coral’s Trump again, which I did with the same result. Then he cursed, nodded, and said, “Your timing’s actually pretty good. The guys who grabbed her were reported to have taken off along a black trail into the west.”

  “It figures,” I said.

  “I’ve reason to believe they didn’t make it back to the Courts with her.”

  “Oh?”

  “I understand these black thoroughfares you guys use are dangerous to outsiders,” he observed. “But I can show you what’s left of this one—it’s a black pathway now, actually. I’d like to follow it, but I don’t know that I can get away for long. Also, is there a way to protect me from the trail itself?”

  “Just being in our company would keep you from harm as we traveled it,” Jurt said.

  I stood. The cook and two dishwashers glanced in our direction.

  “There is somebody you have to meet, Luke,” I told him. “Right now.”

  “Why not?” he said, rising. “Where is he?”

  “Let’s take a walk,” I said.

  “Sure.”

  We got to our feet, headed back to the servants’ door. “So, whether she was a willing accomplice or a magical time bomb, Mom might have conned Dad into his efforts to take over in Amber—and, ultimately, to change the world,” Luke said.

  “Well, I gather he didn’t exactly come to her with clean hands,” I said.

  “True, but I wonder how elaborate his plans really were, to begin with,” Luke mused. “This is the most cheerful thing I’ve heard all month.”

  We exited into the little covered walkway that ran along the side of the palace. Luke halted and looked around.

  “Where is he?” he asked.

  “Not here,” I said. “I just needed a point of departure with no witnesses to say I’d kidnapped the king.”

  “Where are we going, Merlin?” Jurt asked, as I swirled a spiral from the center of the spikard, drawing upon sixteen different power sources.

  “Good idea. Kidnap away,” Luke was saying as he was caught up along with Jurt.

  I used it as I had when I’d transported myself from Amber to Kashfa, forming the target from memory rather than discovered vision. Only this time there were three of us and a long, long way to go.

  “Have I got a deal for you,” I said.

  It was like stepping into a kaleidoscope, and passing through about 120 degrees of cubist fragmentation and reassembly, before emerging on the other side beneath a towering tree, its top lost in the fog, in the vicinity of a red and white ’57 Chevy, its radio playing Renbourn’s “Nine Maidens.”

  Luke’s ghost emerged from the front seat and stared at the original. Luke stared back.

  “Hi,” I said. “Meet each other. You hardly need an introduction, though. You have so much in common.” Jurt stared at the Pattern.

  “That’s my dad’s edition,” I said.

  “I could have guessed that,” Jurt told me. “But what are we doing here?”

  “An idea I had. But I thought Corwin would be here, and I might discuss it with him.”

  “He came back, and he left again,” said the resident Luke, overhearing me.

  “Did he leave a forwarding address, or say when he might return?”

  “Nope.”

  “Damn! Look, something that got said just a little while ago gave me the idea that you Lukes might want to change places for a time—if this Pattern could be persuaded to approve some leave.”

  Luke, whom I decided to continue calling Luke when his ghost was around, brightened suddenly. I resolved to think of his double as Rinaldo, to keep things sorted.

  “It’s an experience no man should do without,” he said.

  “Then why are you so anxious to get away from it?” Rinaldo replied.

  “To help Merle find Coral,” Luke said. “She’s been kidnapped.”

  “Really? By whom?”

  “Agents of Chaos.”

  “Hm.” Rinaldo began to pace. “Okay, you know more about it than I do,” he finally said. “If Corwin gets back soon and the Pattern excuses me, I’ll help you any way I can.”

  “The trail will be getting colder while we wait,” Luke observed.

  “You don’t understand,” Rinaldo said. “I’ve got a job to do here, and I can’t just take off—even if it’s to go and be a king somewhere. What I do is more important.”

  Luke glanced at me.

  “He’s right,” I said. “He’s a guardian of the Pattern. On the other hand, nobody’s about to hurt Coral. Why don’t Jurt and I pop on back to the Courts for a few minutes, to check on the progress of the funeral? Corwin might show up while we’re about it. I’m sure you two will find something to talk about.”

  “Go ahead,” Luke told me.

  “Yeah,” said Rinaldo. “I’d like to know what we’ve been doing.”

  I looked at Jurt, who nodded. I went and stood beside him.

  “Your turn to drive,” I said.

  “Back soon,” I remarked as we faded into the first jump.

  * * *

  . . . And so again to the Ways of Sawall, and back into our ruddy garb over demonform. I also changed our facial appearance to the nondescript before Jurt returned us to the funeral party, not wanting a matching set marching along.

  The Thelbane proved deserted. A quick check outside, however, showed us the procession, perhaps a quarter way across the Plaza, halted and in a state of confusion.

  “Uh-oh,” Jurt remarked. “What should I do?”

  “Take us down there,” I told him.

  Moments later, we were at the outer edge of the crowd. Swayvill’s blazing casket had been lowered to the ground, a guard posted about it. My attention was immediately attracted to a knot of figures perhaps twenty feet off to the right of it. There was some shouting going on, something lay upon the ground, and two demonic forms were being held tightly by several others. My stomach tightened as I saw that the two were the pair I had ensorcelled to resemble Jurt and myself. Both were protesting something.

  As I pushed my way forward, I withdrew my spells, causing the two to revert to their own appearance. There were more shouts as this occurred, including an “I told you!” from the nearest. The response to this was a “Yes, they are!” from someone I suddenly realized to be Mandor. He stood between them and the thing on the ground.

  “It was a trick!” Mandor said. “A distraction! Release them! ”

  I decided the moment was propitious for dropping the spells that masked Jurt and myself. Glorious confusion! Moments later, Mandor saw me and signaled for me to approach. Jurt, I saw, off to my right, had stopped to talk to someone he knew.

  “Merlin!” he said as soon as I was near. “What do you know of this?”

  “Nothing,” I said. “I was way to the rear, with Jurt. I don’t even know what happened.”

  “Someone gave two of the security guards your appearance and Jurt’s. This was obviously intended to create confusion when the assassin struck. They rushed forward insisting they were guards. Obviously, they weren’t. Clever—especially with you and Jurt on their black watch list.”

  “I see,” I agreed, wondering whether I had helped an assassin to escape. “Who got hit?”

  “Tmer, with a very professional dagger stroke,” he explained, left eyelid twitching. A faint wink? Meaning? “And he was gone in an instant.”

  Four mourners, having made a stretcher of cloaks, raised the fallen body. After they’d moved only a few paces with it, I saw another knot of people beyond them.

  Seeing my puzzled expression, Mandor glanced back.

&nb
sp; “More security,” he said. “They’re surrounding Tubble. I think I’ll order him out of here for now. You and Jurt, too. You can come to the temple later. I’ll see that security’s even heavier there.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Is Dara here?” He glanced about.

  “I haven’t seen her. Don’t now, either. You’d better go.”

  I nodded. As I turned away, I saw a half-familiar face off to my right. She was tall and dark-eyed, shifting from a swirl of multicolored jewels to a swaying flower-like form, and she had been staring at me. I had been trying to recall her name earlier, and had failed. Seeing her brought it back, though. I approached her.

  “I have to leave for a time,” I said. “But I wanted to say hello, Gilva.”

  “You do remember. I was wondering.”

  “Of course.”

  “How are you, Merlin?”

  I sighed. She smiled her way into furry, half-human solidity.

  “Me, too,” she said. “I’ll be so glad when this is all settled.”

  “Yes. Listen, I want to see you, for several reasons. When would be a good time?”

  “Why, anytime after the funeral, I guess. What about?”

  “No time now. Mandor’s giving me angry looks. See you later.”

  “Yes. Later, Merlin.”

  I hurried back to Jurt and caught him by the elbow. “We’re ordered to leave,” I said. “Security reasons.”

  “All right.” He turned to the man he’d been talking with. “Thanks. I’ll see you later,” he told him.

  The world slipped away. A new one dawned: Jurt’s apartment, our clothes strewn about it.

  “Good timing for us. Bad for Tmer,” he remarked.

  “True.”

  “How’s it feel to be number two?” he asked as we changed again—both clothing and form.

  “It advances your case, too,” I said.

  “I’ve a feeling he died on your account, brother, not mine.”

  “I hope not,” I said.

  He laughed.

  “It’s between Tubble and you.”

  “If it were, I’d be dead already,” I said. “If you’re right, it’s really between Sawall and Chanicut.”

  “Wouldn’t it be funny, Merlin, if I were sticking with you because it’s the safest place to be just now?” he asked. “I’m sure our guards and assassins are better than Chanicut’s. Supposing I’m just waiting, saving my final effort till Tubble’s out of the way? Then, trusting me and all, you turn your back—Coronation!”

  I looked at him. He was smiling, but he also seemed to be studying me.

  I was about to say, “You can have it, without the trouble,” in a joking way. But I wondered just then: Even in jest, if it were a choice between the two of us . . . It occurred to me that if we were the only options, this was a circumstance under which I’d agree to take the throne. I’d resolved to give him the benefit of the doubt, to meet him more than halfway. But I couldn’t help it. For all his conciliatory talk and apparent cooperation, a lifelong habit is a hard thing to break. I couldn’t bring myself to trust him anymore than I had to.

  “Tell it to the Logrus,” I said.

  A look of fear—the widening of the eyes, the shifting of the gaze downward, a small forward tightening of the shoulders—then, “You really do have an understanding with it, don’t you?” he asked.

  “There seems to be an understanding, but it only works one way,” I said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m not about to help either side wreck our world.”

  “Sounds like you’re prepared to double-cross the Logrus.”

  I raised a finger to my lips.

  “It must be your Amber blood,” he said then. “I’ve been told they’re all a little crazy.”

  “Maybe so,” I said.

  “Sounds like something your father would do.”

  “What do you know of him?”

  “You know, everybody has a favorite Amber story.”

  “Nobody around here ever told any to me.”

  “Of course not—considering.”

  “Me being a half breed and all?” I said.

  He shrugged. Then, “Well, yes.”

  I pulled on my boots.

  “Whatever you’re doing with that new Pattern,” he said, “it probably won’t make the old one too happy.”

  “Doubtless you’re right,” I agreed.

  “So you won’t be able to run to it for protection if the Logrus is after you.”

  “I guess not.”

  “ . . . And if they’re both after you, the new one won’t be able to stand against them.”

  “You think they’d really get together on anything?”

  “Hard to say. You’re playing a wild game. I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  “Me, too,” I said, rising. “My turn.”

  I unwound the spikard at a level I’d never attempted before, and I got us there in a single jump.

  Luke and Rinaldo were still talking. I could tell them apart by their garments. Corwin was nowhere in sight. Both waved as we made our appearance.

  “How’s everything in the Courts?” Luke asked.

  “Chaotic,” Jurt replied. “How long have we been away?”

  “Six hours, I’d guess,” Rinaldo replied.

  “No sign of Corwin?” I asked.

  “No,” Luke said. “But in the meantime, we’ve worked out a deal with each other—and Rinaldo’s been in touch with the Pattern here. It will release him and continue his maintenance as soon as Corwin returns.”

  “Regarding that . . . ” Jurt said.

  “Yes?” Rinaldo asked.

  “I’ll stay here and cover for Rinaldo while you go find the lady with the glass eye.”

  “Why?” Rinaldo asked.

  “Because you’ll do a better job together and I’ll feel a lot safer here than I would most other places.”

  “I’d have to see whether that’s acceptable,” Rinaldo said.

  “Do it,” said Jurt.

  He moved off toward the Pattern. I searched the fog in all directions, hoping to see my father returning. Jurt studied the car, its radio now playing a Bruce Dunlap number from “Los Animales.”

  “If your father comes back and relieves me,” Jurt said, “I’ll return to the funeral and make excuses for you if you’re not there. If you get back and I’m not there, you do the same. All right?”

  “Yes,” I said, wisps of mist rising like smoke between us. “And whichever of us is free first and has something worth saying . . . ”

  “Yes,” he agreed. “I’ll come looking if you don’t get to me.”

  “Didn’t happen to pick up my sword while you were back in the Courts, did you?” Luke asked.

  “Didn’t have time,” Jurt replied.

  “Next time you’re back, I wish you’d make time.”

  “I will, I will,” Jurt said.

  Rinaldo moved away from the Pattern, returned to us. “You’re hired,” he said to Jurt. “Come with me. There’s a spring I want to show you, and a store of food, some weapons.”

  Luke turned and watched them move off to our left.

  “I’m sorry,” he said softly, “but I still don’t trust him.”

  “Don’t be sorry. I don’t either. I’ve known him too long. But we have better reasons for trusting each other now than we’ve had for a long time.”

  “I’m wondering whether it was wise to let him know where this Pattern is, and now to leave him alone with it.”

  “I’m pretty sure the Pattern knows what it’s doing, and that it can take care of itself.”

  He raised a pair of crossed fingers.

  “I’d’ve argued against it,” he said, “save that I need my double.”

  When they returned, a deejay’s baritone suddenly rolled forth, saying, “It all goes to show, timing is everything. Road conditions are fine. It is a good day for travel.” Immediately, there followed a drum solo I’d have sworn was something I once
heard Random play.

  “You’re on duty as of now,” Rinaldo said to Jurt. To us, he nodded. “Anytime.”

  I caught us up with the spikard and spun us back to Kashfa, bringing us into Jidrash near twilight, to the same walltop vantage I had enjoyed earlier with my brother.

  “And so at last,” Rinaldo said, looking out over the town.

  “Yes,” Luke replied. “It’s all yours—for a time.” Then, “Merle, how’s about jumping us to my apartment?”

  I turned to the west where clouds had gone orange, glanced upward to where several hung purple.

  “Before we do that, Luke,” I said, “I’d like to use what daylight’s left for a look at that black trail.”

  He nodded.

  “Good idea. Okay, take us over there.”

  His gesture indicated a hilly area to the southwest. I caught us up and spikarded us to it, creating a verb for which I felt a need in the same act. Such is the power of Chaos.

  Arriving on a small hilltop, we followed Luke down its far side.

  “Over this way,” he said.

  Long shadows lay all about us, but there is a difference between their dimness and the blackness of a travel-thread from the Courts.

  “It was right here,” Luke finally said when we came to a place between a pair of boulders.

  I moved forward into the area but I felt nothing special.

  “You sure this is the place?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  I advanced another ten paces, twenty.

  “If this is really where it was, it’s gone now,” I told him. “Of course . . . I wonder how long we’ve been away?”

  Luke snapped his fingers.

  “Timing,” he observed. “Take us back to my apartments.”

  We kissed the day good-bye as I sent forth a lead and opened our way through the wall of dark. We stepped through into the room I had occupied earlier with Coral.

  “Close enough?” I asked. “I’m not sure where your rooms are.”

  “Come on,” he said, taking us out, to the left and down the stair. “Time to consult the resident expert. Merle, do something about this guy’s appearance. Too much of a good thing might cause comment.”

  It was easy, and the first time I’d made anyone look like the big portrait of Oberon back home.

  Luke knocked on a door before entering. Somewhere beyond it, a familiar voice spoke his name.