I finished my wine and Benedict nodded toward the bottle. It was almost empty, though, so he fetched a fresh bottle from his chest and we filled our cups. I took a long swallow. It was better wine than the previous. Must have been his private stock.
“In the palace,” I went on, “I made my way to the library, where I obtained a pack of the Tarots. This was my main reason for venturing there. I was surprised by Eric before I could do much else and we fought, there in the library. I succeeded in wounding him and believe I could have finished him, save that reinforcements arrived and I was forced to flee. I contacted Bleys then, who gave me passage to him in Shadow. You may have heard the rest from your own sources. How Bleys and I threw in together, assaulted Amber, lost. He fell from the face of Kolvir. I tossed him my Tarots and be caught them. I understand that his body was never found. But it was a long way down -though I believe the tide was high by then. I do not know whether he died that day or not.”
“Neither do I,” said Benedict.
“So I was imprisoned and Eric was crowned. I was prevailed upon to assist in the coronation, despite a small demurrer on my part. I did succeed in crowning myself before that bastard-genealogically speaking -had it back and placed it on his own head. Then he had me blinded and sent to the dungeons.”
He leaned forward and studied my face. “Yes,” he said, “I had heard that. How was it done?”
“Hot irons,” I said, wincing involuntarily and repressing an impulse to clutch at my eyes. “I passed out partway through the ordeal.”
“Was there actual contact with the eyeballs?”
“Yes"l said. “I think so.”
“And how long did the regeneration take?”
“It was close to four years before I could see again,” I said, “and my vision is just getting back to normal now. So-about five years altogether, I would say.”
He leaned back, sighed, and smiled faintly.
“Good,” he said. “You give me some small hope. Others of us have lost portions of their anatomy and experienced regeneration also, of course, but I never lost anything significant-until now.”
“Oh yes,” I said. “It is a most impressive record. I reviewed it regularly for years. A collection of bits and pieces, many of them forgotten I daresay, but by the principals and myself: fingertips, toes, ear lobes. I would say that there is hope for your arm. Not for a long while, of course.
“It is a good thing that you are ambidextrous,” I added.
His smile went on and off and he took a drink of wine. No, he was not ready to tell me what had happened to him.
I took another sip of my own. I did not want to tell him about Dworkin. I had wanted to save Dworkin as something of an ace in the hole. None of us understood the man's full power, and he was obviously mad. But he could be manipulated. Even Dad had apparently come to fear him after a time, and had had him locked away. What was it that he had told me back in my cell? That Dad had had him confined after he had announced his discovery of a means for destroying all of Amber. If this was not just the rambling of a psychotic and was the real reason for his being where he was, then Dad had been far more generous that I would have been. The man was too dangerous to let live. On the other hand, though. Dad had been trying to cure him of his condition. Dworkin had spoken of doctors, men he had frightened away or destroyed when he had turned his powers against them. Most of my memories of him were of a wise, kindly old man, quite devoted to Dad and the rest of the family. It would be difficult readily to destroy someone like that if there was some hope. He had been confined to what should have been inescapable quarters. Yet when he had grown bored one day, he had simply walked out. No man can walk through Shadow in Amber, the very absence of Shadow, so he had done something I did not understand, something involving the principle behind the Trumps, and had left his quarters. Before he returned to them, I managed to persuade him to provide me with a similar exit from my own cell, one that transported me to the lighthouse of Cabra, where I recovered somewhat, then set out upon the voyage that took me to Lorraine. Most likely he was still undetected. As I understood it, our family had always possessed special powers, but it was he who analyzed them and formalized their functions by means of the Pattern and the Tarots. He had often tried to discuss the matter, but it had seemed awfully abstract and boring to most of us. We are a very pragmatic family, damn it! Brand was the only one who seemed to have had any interest in the subject. And Fiona. I had almost forgotten. Sometimes Fiona would listen. And Dad. Dad knew an awful lot of things that he never discussed. He never had much time for us, and there were so many things about him that we did not know. But he was probably as well versed as Dworkin in whatever principles were involved. Their main difference was one of application. Dworkin was an artist. I do not really know what Dad was. He never encouraged intimacy, though he was not an unkind father. Whenever he took note of us, he was quite lavish with gifts and diversions. But he left our upbringing to various members of his court. He tolerated us, I feel, as occasionally inevitable consequences of passion. Actually, I am quite surprised that the family is not much larger. The thirteen of us, plus two brothers and a sister I knew who were now dead, represent close to fifteen hundred years of parental production. There had been a few others also, of whom I had heard, long before us, who had not survived. Not a tremendous batting average for so lusty a liege, but then none of us had proved excessively fertile either. As soon as we were able to fend for ourselves and walk in Shadow, Dad had encouraged us to do so, find places where we would be happy and settle there. This was my connection with the Avalon which is no more. So far as I knew, Dad's own origins were known only to himself. I had never encountered anyone whose memory stretched back to a time when there had been no Oberon. Strange? Not to know where one's own father comes from, when one has had centuries in which to exercise one's curiosity? Yes. But he was secretive, powerful, shrewd-traits we all possess to some degree. He wanted us well situated and satisfied, I feel-but never so endowed as to present a threat to his own reign. There was in him, I guessed, an element of uneasiness, a not unjustifiable sense of caution with respect to our learning too much concerning himself and times long gone by. I do not believe that he had ever truly envisioned a time when he would not rule in Amber. He occasionally spoke, jokingly or grumblingly, of abdication. But I always felt this to be a calculated thing, to see what responses it would provoke. He must have realized the state of affairs his passing would produce, but refused to believe that the situation would ever occur. And no one of us really knew all of his duties and responsibilities, his secret commitments. As distasteful as I found the admission, I was coming to feel that none of us was really fit to take the throne. I would have liked to blame Dad for this inadequacy, but unfortunately I had known Freud too long not to feel self-conscious about it. Also, I was now beginning to wonder about the validity of any of our claims. If there had been no abdication and he did indeed still live, then the best of us could really hope to do was sit in regency. I would not look forward-especially from the throne-to his returning and finding things otherwise. Let's face it, I was afraid of him, and not without cause. Only a fool does not fear a genuine power that he does not understand. But whether the title be king or regent, my claim on it was stronger than Eric's and I was still determined to have it. If a power out of Dad's dark past, which none of us really understood, could serve to secure it, and if Dworkin did represent such a power, then he must remain hidden until he could be employed on my behalf.
Even, I asked myself, if the power he represented was the power to destroy Amber itself, and with it to shatter the shadow worlds and capsize all of existence as I understood it?
Especially then, I answered myself. For who else could be trusted with such power? We are indeed a very pragmatic family.
More wine, and then I fumbled with my pipe, cleaning it, repacking it.
“That, basically, is my story to date,” I said, regarding my handiwork, rising and taking a light from the lamp. “After I
recovered my sight, I managed to escape, fled Amber, tarried for a time in a place called Lorraine, where I encountered Ganelon, then came here.”
“Why?” I reseated myself and looked at him again.
“Because it is near to the Avalon I once knew,” I said.
I had purposely refrained from mentioning any earlier acquaintanceship with Ganelon, and hoped that he would take a cue from it. This shadow was near enough to our Avalon so that Ganelon should be familiar with its topography and most of its customs. For whatever it was worth, it seemed politic to keep this information from Benedict.
He passed over it as I thought he might, buried there where it was beside more interesting digging.
“And of your escape?” he asked. “How did you manage that?”
“I had help, of course,” I admitted, “in getting out of the cell. Once out– Well, there are still a few passages of which Eric is unaware.”
“I see,” he said, nodding-hoping, naturally, that I would go on to mention my partisans' names, but knowing better than to ask.
I puffed my pipe and leaned back, smiling.
“It is good to have friends,” he said, as if in agreement with some unvoiced thought I might be entertaining.
“I guess that we all have a few of them in Amber.”
“I like to think so,” he said. Then, “I understand you left the partly whittled cell door locked behind you, had set fire to your bedding, and had drawn pictures on the wall.”
“Yes,” I said. “Prolonged confinement does something to a man's mind. At least, it did to mine. There are long periods during which I know I was irrational.”
“I do not envy you the experience, brother,” he said. “Not at all. What are your plans now?”
“They are still uncertain.”
“Do you feel that you might wish to remain here?”
“I do not know,” I said. “What is the state of affairs here?”
“I am in charge,” he said-a simple statement of fact, not a boast. “I believe I have just succeeded in destroying the only major threat to the realm. If I am correct, then a reasonably tranquil period should be at hand. The price was high"-he glanced at what remained of his arm-"but will have been worth it-as shall be seen before very long, when things have returned to normal.”
He then proceeded to relate what was basically the same situation the youth had described, going on to tell how they had won the battle. The leader of the hellmaids slain, her riders had bolted and fled. Most of them were also slain then, and the caverns had been sealed once more. Benedict had decided to maintain a small force in the field for mopping-up purposes, his scouts the while combing the area for survivors.
He made no mention of the meeting between himself and their leader, Lintra.
“Who slew their leader?” I asked him.
“I managed it,” he said, making a sudden movement with his stump, “though I hesitated a moment too long on my first blow.”
I glanced away and so did Ganelon. When I looked back, his face had returned to normal and he had lowered his arm.
“We looked for you. Did you know that,—Corwin?” he asked. “Brand searched for you in many shadows, as did Gerard. You guessed correctly as to what Eric said after your disappearance that day. We were inclined to look farther than his word, however. We tried your Trump repeatedly, but there was no response. It must be that brain damage can block it. That is interesting. Your failure to respond to the Trump led us to believe you had died. Then Julian, Caine, and Random joined the search.”
“All that? Really? I am astonished.”
He smiled.
“Oh,” I said then, and smiled myself.
Their joining the hunt at that point meant that it was not my welfare that concerned them, but the possibility of obtaining evidence of fratricide against Eric, so as to displace him or blackmail him.
“I sought for you in the vicinity of Avalon,” he continued, “and I found this place and was taken by it. It was in a pitiful condition in those days, and for generations I worked to restore it to its former glory. While I began this in memory of you, I developed a fondness for this land and its people. They came to consider me their protector, and so did I.”
I was troubled as well as touched by this. Was he implying that I had fouled things up terribly and that he had tarried here to put them in order-so as to clean up after his kid brother this one last time? Or did he mean that he realized I had loved this place– or a place very much like it-and that he had worked to set it in good order as something I might have wished done? Perhaps I was becoming oversensitive.
“It is good to know that I was sought,” I said, “and it is very good to know that you are the defender of this land. I would like to see this place, for it does remind me of the Avalon that I knew. Would you have any objections to my visiting here?”
“That is all that you wish to do? Visit?”
“That is all that I had in mind.”
“Know then that what is remembered of the shadow of yourself that once reigned here is not good. Children are not named Corwin in this place, nor am I brother to any Corwin here.”
“I understand,” I said. “My name is Corey. Can we be old friends?” He nodded.
“Old friends of mine are always welcome to visit here,” he said.
I smiled and nodded. I felt insulted that he would entertain the notion that I had designs upon this shadow of a shadow: I, who had-albeit but for an instant -felt the cold fire of Amber's crown upon my brow.
I wondered what his attitude would have been had he known of my responsibility, when it came down to basics, for the raids. For that matter, I suppose, I was also responsible for the loss of his arm. I preferred to push things one step farther back, however, and hold Eric responsible. After all, it was his action that had prompted my curse.
Still, I hoped that Benedict would never find out I wanted very badly to know where he stood with respect to Eric. Would he support him, throw his weight behind me, or just stay out of the way when I made my move? Conversely, I was certain that he wondered whether my ambitions were dead or still smoldering– and if the latter, what my plans were for stoking them. So...
Who was going to raise the matter?
I took several good puffs on my pipe, finished my wine, poured some more, puffed again. I listened to the sounds of the camp, the wind, my stomach... Benedict took a sip of wine.
Then, “What are your long-range plans?” he asked me, almost casually.
I could say that I had not made up my mind yet, that I was simply happy to be free, alive, seeing... I could tell him that that was enough for me, for now, that I had no special plans...
... And he would know that I lied in my teeth. For he knew me better than that.
So, “You know what my plans are,” I said.
“If you were to ask for my support,” he said, “I would deny it. Amber is in bad enough shape without another power grab.”
“Eric is a usurper.”
“I choose to look upon him as regent only. At this time, any of us who claims the throne is guilty of usurpation.”
“Then you believe Dad still lives?”
“Yes. Alive and distressed. He has made several attempts to communicate.”
I succeeded in keeping my face from showing anything. So I was not the only one, then. To reveal my experiences at this point would sound hypocritical, opportunistic, or a flat lie-since in our seeming contact of five years ago he had given me the go-ahead to take the throne. Of course, he could have been referring to a regency then...
“You did not lend support to Eric when he took the throne,” I said. “Would you give it to him now that he holds it, if an attempt were made to unseat him?”
“It is as I said,” he told me. “I look upon him as regent. I do not say that I approve of this, but I desire no further strife in Amber.”
“Then you would support him?”
“I have said all that I have to say on the matter. You are welcome to
visit my Avalon, but not to use it as a staging area for an invasion of Amber. Does that clarify matters with respect to anything you may have in mind?”
“It clarifies matters,” I said.
“This being the case, do you still wish to visit here?”
“I do not know,” I said. “Does your desire to avoid strife in Amber work both ways?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that if I were returned to Amber against my will, I would damn well create as much strife as I could to prevent a recurrence of my previous situation.”
The lines went out of his face and he slowly lowered his eyes.
“I did not mean to imply that I would betray you. Do you think that I am without feelings, Corwin? I would not see you imprisoned again, blinded-or worse. You are always welcome to visit here, and you may leave your fears along with your ambitions at the border.”
“Then I would still like to visit,” I said. “I have no army, nor did I come here to recruit one.”
“Then you know that you are most welcome.”
“Thank you, Benedict. While I did not expect to find you here, I am glad that I did.” He reddened faintly and nodded.
“It pleases me, also,” he said. “Am I the first of us you have seen-since your escape?” I nodded.
“Yes, and I am curious as to how everyone is faring. Any major reports?”
“No new deaths,” he said.
We both chuckled, and I knew that I would have to turn up the family gossip on my own. It had been worth the attempt, though.
“I am planning on remaining in the field for a time,” he said, “and continuing my patrols until I am satisfied that none of the invaders remain. It could be another week before we withdraw.”
“Oh? Then it was not a total victory?”
“I believe that it was, but I never take unnecessary chances. It is worth a little more time to be certain.”
The Great Book of Amber Page 26