The Great Book of Amber

by Roger Zelazny

  “Right now it would just widen a rift I am trying to heal.”

  “Your holding back on him now may serve to rupture it completely when he finds out.”

  “No. I believe I know my brother better than you do.”

  He released the reins.

  “Very well,” he said. “I hope you are right.”

  I did not answer, but started Firedrake to moving once more. There was an unspoken understanding between us that Ganelon could ask me anything he wanted, and it also went without saying that I would listen to any advice he had to offer me. This was partly because his position was unique. We were not related. He was no Amberite. The struggles and problems of Amber were his only by choice. We had been friends and then enemies long ago, and finally, more recently, friends again and allies in a battle in his adopted land. That matter concluded, he had asked to come with me, to help me deal with my own affairs and those of Amber. As I saw it, he owed me nothing now, nor I him-if one keeps a scoreboard tally on such matters. Therefore, it was friendship alone that bound us, a stronger thing than bygone debts and points of honor: in other words, a thing which gave him the right to bug me on matters such as this, where I might have told even Random to go to hell once I had made up my mind. I realized I should not be irritated when everything that he said was tendered in good faith. Most likely it was an old military feeling, going back to our earliest relationship as well as being tied in with the present state of affairs: I do not like having my decisions and orders questioned. Probably, I decided, I was irritated even more by the fact that he had made some shrewd guesses of late, and some fairly sound suggestions based upon them-things I felt I ought to have caught myself. No one likes to admit to a resentment based on something like that. Still ...was that all? A simple projection of dissatisfaction over a few instances of personal inadequacy? An old army reflex as to the sanctity of my decisions? Or was it something deeper that had been bothering me and was just now coming to the surface?

  “Corwin,” Ganelon said, “I've been doing some thinking...”

  I sighed.

  “Yes?”

  “...about Random's son. The way your crowd heals, I suppose it is possible that he might have survived and still be about.”

  “I would like to think so.”

  “Do not be too hasty.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I gather he had very little contact with Amber and the rest of the family, growing up in Rebma the way that he did.”

  “That is the way I understand it, too.”

  “In fact, outside of Benedict-and Llewella, back in Rebma-the only other one he apparently had contact with would have been the one who stabbed him-Bleys, Brand, or Fiona. It has occurred to me that he probably has a pretty distorted view of the family.”

  “Distorted,” I said, “but maybe not unwarranted, if I see what you are getting at.”

  “I think you do. It seems conceivable that he is not only afraid of the family, but may have it in for the lot of you.”

  “It is possible,” I said.

  “Do you think he could have thrown in with the enemy?”

  I shook my head.

  “Not if he knows they are the tools of the crowd that tried to kill him.”

  “But are they? I wonder ..? You say Brand got scared and tried to back out of whatever arrangement they had with the black road gang. If they are that strong, I wonder whether Fiona and Bleys might not have become their tools? If this were the case, I could see Martin angling for something which gave him power over them.”

  “Too elaborate a structure of guesses,” I said.

  “The enemy seems to know a lot about you.”

  “True, but they had a couple traitors to give them lessons.”

  “Could they have given them everything you say Dara knew?”

  “That is a good point,” I said, “but it is hard to say.”

  Except for the business about the Tecys, which occurred to me immediately. I decided to keep that to myself for the moment though, to find out what he was leading up to, rather than going off on a tangent. So, “Martin was hardly in a position to tell them much about Amber,” I said.

  Ganelon was silent for a moment. Then, “Have you had a chance to check on the business I asked you about that night at your tomb?” he said.

  “What business?”

  “Whether the Trumps could be bugged,” he said. “Now that we know Martin had a deck...”

  It was my turn to be silent while a small family of moments crossed my path, single file, from the left, sticking their tongues out at me.

  “No,” I said then. “I haven't had a chance.”

  We proceeded on for quite a distance before he said, “Corwin, the night you brought Brand back..?”

  “Yes?”

  “You say you accounted for everyone later, in trying to figure out who it was that stabbed you, and that any of them would have been hard put to pull the stunt in the time involved.”

  “Oh,” I said, “and oh.”

  He nodded.

  “Now you have another relative to think about. He may lack the family finesse only because he is young and unpracticed.”

  Sitting there in my mind, I gestured back at the silent parade of moments that crossed between Amber and then.

  CHAPTER 4

  She asked who it was when I knocked and I told her.

  “Just a moment”

  I heard her footsteps and then the door swung in. Vialle is only a little over five feet tall and quite slim. Brunette, fine-featured, very soft-spoken. She was wearing red. Her sightless eyes looked through me, reminding me of darkness past, of pain.

  “Random,” I said, “asked me to tell you that he would be delayed a little longer, but that there was nothing to worry about.”

  “Please come in,” she said, stepping aside and drawing the door the rest of the way open.

  I did. I did not want to, but I did. I had not intended to take Random's request literally-that I tell her what had happened and where he had gone. I had meant simply to tell her what I had already said, nothing more. It was not until we had ridden our separate ways that I realized exactly what Random's request had amounted to: He had just asked me to go tell bis wife, to whom I had never spoken more than half a dozen words, that he had taken off to go looking for his illegitimate son-the lad whose mother, Morganthe, had committed suicide, a thing for which Random had been punished by being forced to marry Vialle. The fact that the marriage had somehow worked beautifully was something which still amazed me. I had no desire to dispense a load of awkward tidings, and as I moved into the room I sought alternatives.

  I passed a bust of Random set on a high shelf on the wall to my left. I had actually gone by before it registered that my brother was indeed the subject. Across the room, I saw her workbench. Turning back, I studied the bust.

  “I did not realize that you sculpted,” I said.

  “Yes.”

  Casting my gaze about the apartment, I quickly located other examples of her work. “Quite good,” I said.

  “Thank you. Won't you sit down?”

  I lowered myself into a large, high-armed chair, which proved more comfortable than it had looked. She seated herself on a low divan to my right, curling her legs beneath her.

  “May I get you something to eat, or to drink?”

  “No thanks. I can only stay a short while. What it is, is that Random, Ganelon, and I had gotten a bit sidetracked on the way home, and after that delay we met with Benedict for a time. The upshot of it was that Random and Benedict had to make another small journey.”

  “How long will he be away?”

  “Probably overnight. Maybe a bit longer. If it is going to be much longer he will probably call back on someone's Trump, and we'll let you know.”

  My side began to throb and I rested my hand upon it, massaging it gently.

  “Random has told me many things about you,” she said.

  I chuckled.

  “Are yo
u certain you would not care for something to eat? It would be no trouble.”

  “Did he tell you that I am always hungry?”

  She laughed.

  “No. But if you have been as active as you say, I would guess that you did not take time for lunch.”

  “In that you would be only half-correct. All right. If you've a spare piece of bread lying about it might do me some good to gnaw on it.”

  “Fine. Just a moment.”

  She rose and departed into the next room. I took the opportunity to scratch heartily all about my wound where it was suddenly itching fit to kill. I had accepted her hospitality partly for this reason and partly because of the realization that I actually was hungry. Only a little later it struck me that she could not have seen me attacking my side as I was. Her sure movements, her confident manner, had relaxed my awareness of her blindness. Good. It pleased me that she was able to carry it so well.

  I heard her humming a tune: “The Ballad of the Water Crossers,” the song of Amber's great merchant navy. Amber is not noted for manufacture, and agriculture has never been our forte. But our ships sail the shadows, plying between anywhere and anywhere, dealing in anything. Just about every male Amberite, noble or otherwise, spends some time in the fleet. Those of the blood laid down the trade routes long ago that other vessels might follow, the seas of a double dozen worlds in every captain's head. I had assisted in this in times gone by, and though my involvement had never been so deep as Gerard's or Caine's, I had been mightily moved by the forces of the deep and the spirit of the men who crossed it.

  After a while, Vialle came in bearing a tray heavy with bread, meat, cheese, fruit, and a flask of wine. She set it upon a table near at hand.

  “You mean to feed a regiment?” I asked.

  “Best to be safe.”

  “Thanks. Won't you join me?”

  “A piece of fruit, perhaps,” she said.

  Her fingers sought for a second, located an apple. She returned to the divan.

  “Random tells me you wrote that song,” she said.

  “That was a very long time ago, Vialle.”

  “Have you composed any recently?”

  I began to shake my head, caught myself, said, “No. That part of me is... resting.”

  “Pity. It is lovely.”

  “Random is the real musician in the family.”

  “Yes, he is very good. But performance and composition are two different things.”

  “True. One day when things have eased up ...Tell me, are you happy here in Amber? Is everything to your liking? Is there anything that you need?”

  She smiled. “All that I need is Random. He is a good man.”

  I was strangely moved to hear her speak of him in this fashion.

  “Then I am happy for you,” I said. And, “Younger, smaller ...he might have had it a bit rougher than the rest of us,” I went on. “Nothing quite as useless as another prince when there is already a crowd of them about. I was as guilty as the rest. Bleys and I once stranded him for two days on an islet to the south of here...”

  “...And Gerard went and got him when he learned of it,” she said. “Yes, he told me. It must bother you if you remember it after all this time.”

  “It must have made an impression on him, too.”

  “No, he forgave you long ago. He told it as a joke. Also, he drove a spike through the heel of your boot-pierced your foot when you put it on.”

  “Then it was Random! I'll be damned! I had always blamed Julian for that one.”

  “That one bothers Random.”

  “How long ago all of this was...” I said.

  I shook my head and continued eating. Hunger seized me and she gave me several minutes of silence in which to get the upper hand on it. When I had, I felt compelled to say something.

  “That is better. Much better,” I began. “It was a peculiar and trying night that I spent in the skycity.”

  “Did you receive omens of a useful nature?”

  “I do not know how useful they might prove. On the other hand, I suppose I'd rather have had them than not. Have there been any interesting happenings hereabouts?”

  “A servant tells me your brother Brand continues to rally. He ate well this morning, which is encouranging.”

  “True,” I said. “True. It would seem he is out of danger.”

  “Likely. It-it is a terrible series of happenings to which you have all been subjected. I am sorry. I was hoping you might obtain some indication of an upturn in your affairs during the night you spent in Tir-na Nog'th.”

  “It does not matter,” I said. “I am not that sure of the value of the thing.”

  “Then why-Oh.”

  I studied her with renewed interest. Her face still betrayed nothing, but her right hand twitched, tapping and plucking at the material of the divan. Then, as with a sudden awareness of its eloquence, she stilled it. She was obviously a person who had answered her own question and wished now she had done it in silence.

  “Yes,” I said, “I was stalling. You are aware of my injury.”

  She nodded.

  “I am not angry with Random for having told you,” I said. “His judgment has always been acute and geared to defense. I see no reason not to rely on it myself. I must inquire as to how much he has told you, however, both for your own safety and my peace of mind. For there are things I suspect but have not yet spoken.”

  “I understand. It is difficult to assess a negative-the things he might have left out, I mean-but he tells me most things. I know your story and most of the others. He keeps me aware of events, suspicions, conjectures.”

  “Thank you,” I said, taking a sip of. the wine. “It makes it easier for me to speak then, seeing how things are with you. I am going to tell you everything that happened from breakfast till now...”

  So I did.

  She smiled occasionally as I spoke, but she did not interrupt. When I had finished, she asked, “You thought that mention of Martin would upset me?”

  “It seemed possible,” I told her.

  “No,” she said. “You see, I knew Martin in Rebma, when he was but a small boy. I was there while he was growing up. I liked him then. Even if he were not Random's son he would still be dear to me. I can only be pleased with Random's concern and hope that it has come in time to benefit them both.”

  I shook my head.

  “I do not meet people like you too often,” I said. “I am glad that I finally have.”

  She laughed, then said, “You were without sight for a long while.”

  “Yes.”

  “It can embitter a person, or it can give him a greater joy in those things which he does have.”

  I did not have to think back over my feelings from those days of blindness to know that I was a person of the first sort, even discounting the circumstances under which I had suffered it. I am sorry, but that is the way that I am, and I am sorry.

  “True,” I said. “You are fortunate.”

  “It is really only a state of mind-a thing a Lord of Shadow can easily appreciate.”

  She rose.

  “I have always wondered as to your appearance,” she said. “Random has described you, but that is different. May I?”

  “Of course.”

  She approached and placed her finger tips upon my face. Delicately, she traced my features.

  “Yes,” she said, “you are much as I had thought you would be. And I feel the tension in you. It has been there for a long while, has it not?”

  “In some form or other, I suppose, ever since my return to Amber.”

  “I wonder,” she said, “whether you might have been happier before you regained your memory.”

  “It is one of those impossible questions,” I said. “I might also be dead if I had not. But putting that part aside for a moment, in those times there was still a thing that drove me, that troubled me every day. I was constantly looking for ways to discover who I really was, what I was.”

  “But were you h
appier, or less happy, than you are now?”

  “Neither,” I said. “Things balance out. It is, as you suggested, a state of mind. And even if it were not so, I could never go back to that other life, now that I know who I am, now that I have found Amber.”

  “Why not?”

  “Why do you ask me these things?”

  “I want to understand you,” she said. “Ever since I first heard of you back in Rebma, even before Random told me stories, I wondered what it was that drove you. Now I've the opportunity-no right, of course, just the opportunity-I felt it worth speaking out of turn and order beyond my station simply to ask you.”

  A half-chuckle caught me.

  “Fairly taken,” I said. “I will see whether I can be honest. Hatred drove me at first-hatred for my brother Eric-and my desire for the throne. Had you asked me on my return which was the stronger, I would have said that it was the summons of the throne. Now, though ...now I would have to admit that it was actually the other way around. I had not realized it until this moment, but it is true. But Eric is dead and there is nothing left of what I felt then. The throne remains, but now I find that my feelings toward it are mixed. There is a possibility that none of us has a right to it under present circumstances, and even if all family objections were removed I would not take it at this time. I would have to see stability restored to the realm and a number of questions answered first.”

  “Even if these things showed that you may not have the throne?”

  “Even so.”

  “Then I begin to understand.”

  “What? What is there to understand?”

  “Lord Corwin, my knowledge of the philosophical basis of these things is limited, but it is my understanding that you are able to find anything you wish within Shadow. This has troubled me for a long while, and I never fully understood Random's explanations. If you wished, could not each of you walk in Shadow and find yourself another Amber-like this one in all respects, save that you ruled there or enjoyed whatever other status you might desire?”

  “Yes, we can locate such places,” I said.

  “Then why is this not done, to have an end of strife?”