The Great Book of Amber

by Roger Zelazny

  Nor was I incorrect. I was swept on into it without any slackening of my apparent velocity. I was spun and whirled along blazing ways, passing through substanceless clouds of glitter and shine. There were no areas of resistance, as in the Pattern itself, my initial impetus seeming sufficient to bear me throughout. A whirlwind tour of the Milky Way? A drowning man swept among canyons of coral? An insomniac sparrow passing over an amusement park of a July Fourth evening? These my thoughts as I recapitulated my recent passage in this transformed fashion.

  ...And out, through, over, and done, in a blaze of ruddy light that found me regarding myself holding the pendant beside the Pattern, then regarding the pendant, Pattern within it, within me, everything within me, me within it, the redness subsiding, down, gone. Then just me, the pendant, the Pattern, alone, subject-object relationships reestablished-only an octave higher, which I feel is about the best way there is to put it. For a certain empathy now existed. It was as though I had acquired an extra sense, and an additional means of expression. It was a peculiar sensation, satisfying.

  Anxious to test it, I summoned my resolve once again and commanded the Pattern to transport me elsewhere.

  I stood then in the round room, atop the highest tower in Amber. Crossing it, I passed outside, onto a very small balcony. The contrast was powerful, coming so close to the supersensory voyage I had just completed. For several long moments I simply stood there, looking.

  The sea was a study in textures, as the sky was partly overcast and getting on toward evening. The clouds themselves showed patterns of soft brightness and rough shading. The wind made its way seaward, so that the salt smell was temporarily denied me. Dark birds dotted the air, swinging and hovering at a great distance out over the water. Below me, the palace yards and the terraces of the city lay spread in enduring elegance out to Kolvir's rim. People were tiny on the thoroughfares, their movements discountable. I felt very alone.

  Then I touched the pendant and called for a storm.

  CHAPTER 4

  Random and Flora were waiting in my quarters when I returned. Random's eyes went first to the pendant, then to my own. I nodded.

  I turned toward Flora, bowing slightly.

  “Sister,” I said, “it has been a while, and then a while.”

  She looked somewhat frightened, which was all to the good. She smiled and took my hand, though.

  “Brother,” she said. “I see that you have kept your word.”

  Pale gold, her hair. She had cut it, but retained the bangs. I could not decide whether I liked it that way or not. She had very lovely hair. Blue eyes, too, and tons of vanity to keep everything in her favorite perspective. At times she seemed to behave quite stupidly, but then at other times I have wondered.

  “Excuse me for staring,” I said, “but the last time that we met I was unable to see you.”

  “I am very happy that the situation has been corrected,” she said. “It was quite-There was nothing that I could do, you know.”

  “I know,” I said, recalling the occasional lilt of her laughter from the other side of the darkness on one of the anniversaries of the event. “I know.”

  I moved to the window and opened it, knowing that the rain would not be coming in. I like the smell of a storm.

  “Random, did you learn anything of interest with regard to a possible postman?” I asked.

  “Not really,” he said. “I made some inquiries. No one seems to have seen anyone else in the right place at the right time.”

  “I see,” I said. “Thank you. I may see you again later.”

  “All right,” he said. “I'll be in my quarters all evening, then.”

  I nodded, turned, leaned back against the sill, watched Flora. Random closed the door quietly as he left. I listened to the rain for half a minute or so.

  “What are you going to do with me?” she said finally.

  “Do?”

  “You are in a position to call for a settlement on old debts. I assume that things are about to begin.”

  “Perhaps,” I said. “Most things depend on other things. This thing is no different.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Give me what I want, and we'll see. I have even been known to be a nice guy on occasion.”

  “What is it that you want?”

  “The story. Flora. Let's start with that. Of how you came to be my shepherdess there on that shadow, Earth. All pertinent details. What was the arrangement? What was the understanding? Everything. That's all.”

  She sighed.

  “The beginning...” she said. “Yes... It was in Paris, a party, at a certain Monsieur Focault's. This was about three years before the Terror—”

  “Stop,” I said. “What were you doing there?”

  “I had been in that general area of Shadow for approximately five of their years,” she said. “I had been wandering, looking for something novel, something that suited my fancy. I came upon that place at that time in the same way we find anything. I let my desires lead me and I followed my instincts.”

  “A peculiar coincidence.”

  “Not in light of all the time involved-and considering the amount of travel in which we indulge. It was, if you like, my Avalon, my Amber surrogate, my home away from home. Call it what you will, I was there, at that party, that October night, when you came in with the little redheaded girl-Jacqueline, I believe, was her name.”

  That brought it back, from quite a distance, a memory I hadn't called for in a long, long while. I remembered Jacqueline far better than I did Focault's party, but there had been such an occasion.

  “Go ahead.”

  “As I said,” she went on, “I was there. You arrived later. You caught my attention immediately, of course. Still, if one exists for a sufficiently long period of time and travels considerably, one does occasionally encounter a person greatly resembling someone else one has known. That was my first thought after the initial excitement faded. Surely it had to be a double. So much time had passed without a whisper. Yet we all have secrets and good reasons for having them. This could be one of yours. So I saw that we were introduced and then had a devil of a time getting you away from that little redheaded piece for more than a few minutes. And you insisted your name was Fenneval—Cordell Fenneval. I grew uncertain. I could not tell whether it was a double or you playing games. The third possibility did cross my mind, though-that you had dwelled in some adjacent area of Shadow for a sufficient time to cast shadows of yourself. I might have departed still wondering had not Jacqueline later boasted to me concerning your strength. Now this is not the commonest subject of conversation for a woman, and the way in which she said it led me to believe that she had actually been quite impressed by some things you had done. I drew her out a bit and realized that they were all of them feats of which you were capable. That eliminated the notion of it being a double. It had to be either you or your shadow. This in mind, even if Cordell was not Corwin he was a clue, a clue that you were or had been in that shady neighborhood-the first real clue I had come across concerning your whereabouts. I had to pursue it. I began keeping track of you then, checking into your past. The more people I questioned, the more puzzling it became. In fact, after several months I was still unable to decide. There were enough smudgy areas to make it possible. Things were resolved for me the following summer, though, when I revisited Amber for a time. I mentioned the peculiar affair to Eric...”

  “Yes?”

  “Well... he was-somewhat-aware-of the possibility.”

  She paused and rearranged her gloves on the seat beside her.

  “Uh-huh,” I said. “Just what did he tell you?”

  “That it might be the real you,” she said. “He told me there had been-an accident.”

  “Really?”

  “Well, no,” she admitted. “Not an accident. He said there had been a fight and he had injured you. He thought you were going to die, and he did not want the blame. So he transported you off into Shadow and left you there, in that pl
ace. After a long while, he decided that you must be dead, that it was finally all over between you. My news naturally disturbed him. So he swore me to secrecy and sent me back to keep you under surveillance. I had a good excuse for being there, as I had already told everyone how much I liked the place.”

  “You didn't promise to keep silent for nothing. Flora. What did he give you?”

  “He gave me his word that should he ever come into power here in Amber, I would not be forgotten.”

  “A little risky,” I said. “After all, that would still leave you with something on him-knowledge of the whereabouts of a rival claimant, and of his part in putting him there.”

  “True. But things sort of balanced out, and I would have to admit having become an accomplice in order to talk about it.”

  I nodded.

  “Tight, but not impossible,” I agreed. “But did you think he would let me continue living if he ever did get a chance at the throne?”

  “That was never discussed. Never.”

  “It must have crossed your mind, though.”

  “Yes, later,” she said, “and I decided that he would probably do nothing. After all, it was beginning to seem likely that you had been deprived of your memory. There was no reason to do anything to you so long as you were harmless.”

  “So you stayed on to watch me, to see that I remained harmless?”

  “Yes.”

  “What would you have done had I shown signs of recovering my memory?”

  She looked at me, then looked away.

  “I would have reported it to Eric.”

  “And what would he have done then?”

  “I don't know.”

  I laughed a little, and she blushed. I could not remember the last time I had seen Flora blush.

  “I will not belabor the obvious,” I said. “All right, you stayed on, you watched me. What next? What happened?”

  “Nothing special. You just went on leading your life and I went on keeping track of it.”

  “All of the others knew where you were?”

  “Yes. I'd make no secret of my whereabouts. In fact, all of them came around to visit me at one time or another.”

  “That includes Random?”

  She curled her lip.

  “Yes, several times,” she said.

  “Why the sneer?”

  “It is too late to start pretending I like him,” she said. “You know. I just don't like the people he associates with-assorted criminals, jazz musicians... I had to show him family courtesy when he was visiting my shadow, but he put a big strain on my nerves, bringing those people around at all hours-jam sessions, poker parties. The place usually reeked for weeks afterward and I was always glad to see him go. Sorry. I know you like him, but you wanted the truth.”

  “He offended your delicate sensibilities. Okay. I now direct your attention to the brief time when I was your guest. Random joined us rather abruptly. Pursuing him were half a dozen nasty fellows whom we dispatched in your living room.”

  “I recall the event quite vividly.”

  “Do you recall the guys responsible-the creatures we had to deal with?”

  “Yes.”

  “Sufficiently well to recognize one if you ever saw another?”

  “I think so.”

  “Good. Had you ever seen one before?”

  “No.”

  “Since?”

  “No.”

  “Had you ever heard them described anywhere?”

  “Not that I can remember. Why?”

  I shook my head.

  “Not yet. This is my inquisition, remember? Now I want you to think back for a time before that evening. Back to the event that put me in Greenwood. Maybe even a little earlier. What happened, and how did you find out about it? What were the circumstances? What was your part in things?”

  “Yes,” she said. “I knew you would ask me that sooner or later. What happened was that Eric contacted me the day after it occurred-from Amber, via my Trump.”

  She glanced at me again, obviously to see how I was taking it, to study my reactions. I remained expressionless.

  “He told me you had been in a bad accident the previous evening, and that you were hospitalized. He told me to have you transferred to a private place, one where I could have more say as to the course of your treatment.”

  “In other words, he wanted me to stay a vegetable.”

  “He wanted them to keep you sedated.”

  “Did he or did he not admit to being responsible for the accident?”

  “He did not say that he had had someone shoot out your tire, but he did know that that was what had happened. How else could he have known? When I learned later that he was planning to take the throne, I assumed that he had finally decided it was best to remove you entirely. When the attempt failed, it seemed logical that he would do the next most effective thing: see that you were kept out of the way until after the coronation.”

  “I was not aware that the tire had been shot out,” I said.

  Her face changed. She recovered.

  “You told me that you knew it was not an accident-that someone had tried to kill you. I assumed you were aware of the specifics.”

  I was treading on slightly mucky ground again for the first time in a long while. I still had a bit of amnesia, and I had decided I probably always would. My memories of the few days prior to the accident were still spotty. The Pattern had restored the lost memories of my entire life up until then, but the trauma appeared to have destroyed recollection of some of the events immediately preceding it. Not an uncommon occurrence. Organic damage rather than simple functional distress, most likely. I was happy enough to have all the rest back, so those did not seem especially lamentable. As to the accident itself, and my feelings that it had been more than an accident, I did recall the gunshots. There had been two of them. I might even have glimpsed the figure with the rifle-fleetingly, too late. Or maybe that was pure fantasy. It seemed that I had, though. I had had something like that in mind when I had headed out for Westchester. Even at this late time. though, when I held the power in Amber, I was loath to admit this single deficiency. I had faked my way with Flora before with a lot less to go on. I decided to stick with a winning combination.

  “I was in no position to get out and see what had been hit,” I said. “I heard the shots. I lost control. I had assumed that it was a tire, but I never knew for sure. The only reason I raised the question was because I was curious as to how you knew it was a tire.”

  “I already told you that Eric told me about it.”

  “It was the way that you said it that bothered me. You made it sound as if you already knew all the details before he contacted you.”

  She shook her head.

  “Then pardon my syntax,” she said. “That sometimes happens when you look at things after the fact. I am going to have to deny what you are implying. I had nothing to do with it and I had no prior knowledge that it had occurred.”

  “Since Eric is no longer around to confirm or deny anything, we will simply have to let it go,” I said, “for now,” and I said it to make her look even harder to her defense, to direct her attention away from any possible slip, either in word or expression, from which she might infer the small flaw which still existed in my memory.

  “Did you later become aware of the identity of the person with the gun?” I asked.

  “Never,” she said. “Most likely some hired thug. I don't know.”

  “Have you any idea how long I was unconscious before someone found me, took me to a hospital?”

  She shook her head again.

  Something was bothering me and I could not quite put my finger on it.

  “Did Eric say what time I had been taken into the hospital?”

  “No.”

  “When I was with you, why did you try walking back to Amber rather than using Eric's Trump?”

  “I couldn't raise him.”

  “You could have called someone else to bring you through,”
I said. “Flora, I think you are lying to me.”

  It was really only a test, to observe her reaction. Why not?

  “About what?” she asked. “I couldn't raise anyone else. They were all otherwise occupied. Is that what you mean?”

  She studied me.

  I raised my arm and pointed at her and the lightning flashed at my back, just outside the window. I felt a tingle, a mild jolt. The thunderclap was also impressive. “You sin by omission,” I tried.

  She covered her face with her hands and began to weep.

  “I don't know what you mean!” she said. “I answered all your questions! What do you want? I don't know where you were going or who shot at you or what time it occurred! I just know the facts I've given you, damn it!”

  She was either sincere or unbreakable by these means, I decided. Whichever, I was wasting my time and could get nothing more this way. Also, I had better switch us away from the accident before she began thinking too much about its importance to me. If there was something there that I was missing, I wanted to find it first.

  “Come with me,” I said.

  “Where are we going?”

  “I have something I want you to identify. I will tell you why after you see it.”

  She rose and followed me. I took her up the hall to see the body before I gave her the story on Caine. She regarded the corpse quite dispassionately. She nodded.

  “Yes,” she said, and, “Even if I did not know it I would be glad to say that I did, for you.”