“No. You're talking to the wrong sister.”
“A wealthy husband?”
“Probably stodgy and boring.”
“What then?”
“Maybe I'll tell you later.”
“All right. I'll ask if you don't.”
We made our way southward along the Concourse, and the breezes picked up as we neared Land's End. It was a winter ocean that came into . view across the distance; slate-gray and . white-capped. Many birds wheeled far out over the waves, and one very sinuous dragon.
We passed through the Great Arch and came at last to the landing and looked downward. It was a vertiginous prospect, out across a brief, broad stair-the steep drop to the tan-and-black beach far below. I regarded the ripples in the sand left by the retreating tide, wrinkles in an old man's brow. The breezes were stronger here, and the damp, salty smell, which had been increasing as we approached, seasoned the air to a new level of intensity. Coral drew back for a moment, then advanced again.
“It looks a little more dangerous than I'd thought,” . she said, after a time. “Probably seems less so once you're on it.”
“I don't know,” I replied. “You've never climbed it?”
“Nope,” I said. “Never had any reason to.”
“I'd think you'd have wanted to, after your father's doomed battle along it.”
I shrugged: “I get sentimental in different ways.” She smiled. “Let's climb down to the beach. Please.” “Sure,” I said, and we moved forward and started. The broad stair took us down for perhaps thirty feet,
then terminated abruptly where a much narrower version turned off to the side. At least the steps weren't damp and slippery: Somewhere far below, I could see where the stair widened again, permitting a pair of people to go abreast. For now, though, we moved single file, and I was irritated that Coral had somehow gotten ahead of me.
“If you'll scrunch over, I'll go past,” I told her.
“Why?” she asked..
“So I can be ahead of you in case you slip.”
“That's all right,” she replied. “I won't.”
I decided it wasn't worth arguing and let her lead:
The landings where the stairway switched back were haphazard affairs, hacked wherever the contours of the , rock permitted such a turning. Consequently, some descending stretches were longer than others and our route wandered all over the face of the mountain. The winds were much stronger now than they were above, and we found ourselves staying as close to the mountain's side as its contours permitted. Had there been no wind, we probably would have done the same. The absence of any sort of guard railing made us shy back from the edge. There were places where the mountain's wall overhung us for a cavelike effect; other places, we followed a bellying of the rock and felt very exposed. My cloak blew up across my face several times and I cursed, recalling that natives seldom visit historical spots in their own neighborhoods. I began to appreciate their wisdom. Coral was hurrying on ahead, and I increased my pace to catch up with her. Beyond her, I could see that there was a landing which signaled the first turning of the way. I was hoping she'd halt there and tell me she'd reconsidered the necessity for this expedition. Hut she didn't. She turned and kept right on going. The wind stole my sigh and bore it to some storybook cave reserved for the plaints of the imposed-upon.
Still, I couldn't help but look down upon occasion; and whenever I did I thought of my father fighting his way up along these steps. It was not something I'd care to try-at least, not until I'd exhausted all of the more sneaky alternatives. I began to wonder how far we were below the level of the palace itself...
When we finally came to the landing from which the stairway widened, I hurried to catch up with Coral so that we could walk abreast. In my haste, I snagged my heel and stumbled as I rounded the turn. It was no big deal.. I was able to reach out and stabilize myself against the cliff s face as I jolted forward and swayed. I was amazed, though, at Coral's perception of my altered gait just on the basis of its sound, and by her reaction to it. She cast herself backward suddenly and twisted her body to the side. Her hands came in contact with my arm as she did this, and she thrust me to the side, against the rock.
“. All right!” I said, from rapidly emptying lungs. “I'm okay.”
She rose and dusted herself off as I recovered.
“I heard—” she began.
“I gather. But I just caught my heel: That's all.”
“I couldn't tell.”
“Everything's fine. Thanks.”
We starred down the stair side by side, but something was changed. I . now harbored a suspicion I did not like but could not dispel. Not yet, anyway. What I had in mind was too dangerous, if I should prove correct.
So instead, “The rain in Spain stays mainly in the plain,” I said.
“What?” she asked. “I didn't understand...”
“I said, `It's a fine day to be walking with a pretty lady. '“
She actually blushed.
Then, “What language did you say it in... the first time.
“English,” I replied.
“I've never studied it. I told you that when we were talking about Alice.”
“I know. Just being whimsical,” I answered.
The beach, nearer now, was tiger-striped and shiny in places. A froth of foam retreated along its slopes while birds cried and dipped to examine the waves' leavings. Sails bobbed in the offing, and a small curtain of rain rippled in the southeast, far out at sea. The winds had ceased their noise-making, though they still came upon us with cloak-wrapping force.
We continued in silence until we had reached the bottom. We stepped away then, moving a few paces onto the sand.
“The harbor's in that direction,” I said, gesturing to my right, westward, “and there's a church off that way,” I added, indicating the dark building where Caine's service had been held and where seamen sometimes came to pray for safe voyages.
She looked in both directions and also glanced behind us and upward.
“More people headed down,” she remarked.
I looked back up and saw three figures near the top of the stairway, but they were standing still, as if they'd only come down a short distance to try the view. None of them wore Lleweila's colors...
“Fellow sightseers,” I said.
She watched them a moment longer, then looked away. “Aren't` there caves along here somewhere?” she asked.
I nodded to my right.
“That way,” I answered. “There's a whole series. People get lost in them periodically. Some are pretty colorful. Others just wander through darkness. A few are simply shallow openings.”
“I'd like to see them,” she said.
“Sure, easily done. Let's go.” .
I began walking. The people on the stair had not moved. They still appeared to be looking out to sea. I doubted they were smugglers. It doesn't seem like a daytime occupation for a place where anyone might
wander by. Still, I was pleased that my faculty for suspi-cion was growing. It seemed appropriate in light of recent events: The object of my greatest suspicion, of course, was walking beside me, turning driftwood with the toe of her boot, scuffing bright pebbles, laughing-but there was nothing I was ready to do about it at the moment. Soon...
She took my arm suddenly.
“Thanks for bringing me,” she said. “I'm enjoying this.”
“Oh, I am, too. Glad we came. You're welcome.”
This made me feel slightly guilty, but if my guess were wrong no harm would be done.
“I think I would enjoy living in Amber,” she remarked as we went along.
“Me, too,” I replied. “I've never really done it for any great length of time.”
“Oh?”
“I guess I didn't really explain how long I'd spent on the shadow Earth where I went to school, where I had that job I was telling you about...,” I began, and suddenly I was pouring out more autobiography to hera thing I don't usually do. I wasn't cert
ain why I was telling it at first, and then I realized that I just wanted someone to talk to. Even if my strange suspicion was correct, it didn't matter. A friendly-seeming listener made me feel better than I had in a long while. And before I realized it, I was telling her about my father-how this man I barely knew had rushed through a massive story of his struggles, his dilemmas, his decisions, as if he were trying to justify himself to me, as if that were the only opportunity he might have to do it, and how I had listened, wondering what he was editing, what ~ he had forgotten, what he might be glossing over or dressing up, what his feelings were toward me...
“Those are some of the caves,” I told her, as they interrupted my now embarrassing indulgence in memory. She started to say something about my monologue, but I simply continued; “I've only seen them once.”
She caught my mood and simply said “I'd like to go inside one.”
I nodded. They seemed a good place for what I had in mind.
I chose the third one. Its mouth was larger than the first two, and I could see back into it for a good distance. “Let's try that one. It looks well lighted,” I explained. We walked into a shadow-hung chill. The damp sand followed us for a while, thinning only slowly to be replaced by a gritty stone floor. The roof dipped and rose several times. A turn to the left joined us with the passage of another opening, for looking back along it I could see more light. The other direction led more deeply into the mountain. We could still feel the echoing pulse of the sea from where we stood.
“These caves could lead back really far,” she observed.
“They do,” I replied. “They twist and cross and wind. I wouldn't want to go too far without a map and a light. They've never been fully charted, that I know of.”
She looked about, studying areas of blackness within the darkness where side tunnels debouched into our own.
“How far back do you think they go?” she inquired.
“I just don't know.”
“Under the palace?”
“Probably,” I said, remembering the series of side tunnels I'd passed on my way to the Pattern. “It seems possible they ' cut into the big caves below itsomewhere.”
“What's it like down there?” .
“Under the palace? Just dark and big. Ancient...”
“I'd like to see it.”
“Whatever for?”
“The Pattern's down there. It must be pretty colorful.”
“Oh, it is-all bright and swirly. Rather intimidating, though.”
“How can you say that when you've walked it?”
“Walking it and liking it are two different things.”“
“I'd just thought that if it were in you to walk it, you'd
feel some affinity, some deep resonant kinship with it.”
I laughed, and the sounds echoed about us.
“Oh, while I was walking it I knew it was in me to
do it,” I said. “I didn't feel it beforehand, though. I was; just scared then. And I never liked it.”
“Strange.”
“Not really. It's like the sea or the night sky. It's big' and it's powerful and it's beautiful and it's there. It's a natural force and you make of it what you will.”
She looked back along the passageway leading inward.
“I'd like to see it,” she said.
“I wouldn't try to find my way to it from here,” I told her. “Why do you want to see it, anyhow?” '
“Just to see how I'd respond to something like that”
“You're strange,” I said.
“Will you take me when. we go back? Will you show it to me?”
This was not going at all the way I'd thought it would. : If she were what I thought, I didn't understand the request. I was half tempted to take her to it, to find out what she had in mind. However, I was operating under a system of priorities, and I'd a feeling she represented one concerning which I'd made myself a promise and'; some elaborate preparations.
“Perhaps,” I mumbled.
“Please. I'd really like to see it.”
She seemed sincere. But my guess felt near-perfect.
Sufficient time had passed for that strange body-shifting spirit, which had dogged my trail in many forms, to have; located a new host and then to have zeroed in on me again and be insinuating itself into my good graces once more. Coral was perfect for the role, her arrival appropriately timed, her concern for my physical welfare manifest, her reflexes fast. I'd have liked to keep her around for questioning, but I knew that she would simply lie to me in the absence of proof or an emergency situation. And I did not trust her. So I reviewed the spell I had prepared and hung on my way home from Arbor House, a spell I had designed to expel a possessing entity from its host. I hesitated a moment, though. My feelings toward her were ambivalent. Even if she were the entity, I might be willing to put up with her if I just knew her motive.
So, “What is it that you want?” I asked.
“Just to see it. Honestly,” she answered.
“No, I mean that if you are what I think you really are, I'm asking the big question: Why?”
Frakir began to pulse upon my wrist.
Coral was silent for the space of an audible deep breath, then, “How could you tell?”
“You betrayed yourself in small ways discernible only to one who has recently become paranoid,” I responded.
“Magic,” she said. “Is that it?”
“It's about to be,” I replied. “I could almost miss you, but I can't trust you.”
I spoke the guide words to the spell, letting them draw my hands smoothly through the appropriate gestures. There followed two horrible shrieks, and then a third.
But they weren't hers. They came from around the corner in the passageway we had recently quitted.
“What-?” she began.
“-the hell! “ I finished; and I rushed past her and rounded the corner, drawing my blade as I went.
Backlighted by the distant cavemouth I beheld three
figures on the floor of the cave. Two of them were sprawled and unmoving. The third was seated and bent forward, , cursing. I advanced slowly, the point of my weapon directed toward the seated one. His shadowy head turned in my direction, and he climbed to his feet, still bent forward. He clutched his left hand with his right, and he backed away until he came into contact with the wall.
He halted there, muttering something I could not quite hear. I continued my cautious advance, all of my senses alert. I could hear Coral moving at my back, then I glimpsed her accompanying me on my left when the passage widened. She had drawn her dagger, and she held it low and near to her hip. No time now to speculate as to what my spell might have done to her.
I halted as I came to the first of the two fallen forms. I prodded it with the toe of my boot, ready to strike instantly should it spring into an attack. Nothing. It felt limp, lifeless. I used my foot to turn it over, and the head rolled back in the . direction of the cavemouth. In the light that then fell upon it I beheld a half-decayed human face My nose had already been informing me that this state was no mere illusion. I advanced upon the other one and turned him, also. He, too, bore the appearance of a decomposing corpse. While the first one clutched a dagger in his right hand, the second was weaponless. Then I noted another dagger-on the floor, near the live man's feet. I raised my eyes to him. This made no sense whatsoever. I'd have judged the two figures upon the floor to have been dead for several days, at least, and I had no idea as to what the standing man had been up to.
“Uh... Mind telling me what's going on?' I inquired.
“Damn you, Merlin!” he snarled, and I recognized the voice.
I moved in a slow arc, stepping over the fallen ones. Coral stayed near to my side, moving in a similar fashion. He turned his head to follow our progress, and when the
light finally fell upon his face, I saw that Jurt was glaring at me out of his one good eye-a patch covered the other-and I saw, too, that about half -of his hair was missing, the exposed scalp covered
with welts or scars, his half-regrown ear-stub plainly visible. From this side I could also see that a bandana suitable for covering most Of this damage had slipped down around his neck. Blood was dripping from his left hand, and I suddenly realized that his little finger was missing.
“What happened to you?” I asked.
“One of the zombies hit my hand with his dagger as he fell,” he said, “when you expelled the spirits that animated them.”
My spell-to evict a possessing spirit... They had been within range of it...
“Coral,” I asked, “are you all right?”
“Yes,” she replied. “But I don't understand...”
“Later,” I told her.
I did not ask him about, his head, as I recalled my struggle with the one-eyed werewolf in the wood to the east of Amber-the beast whose head I had forced into the campfire. I had suspected for some time that it had been Jurt in a shape-shifted form, even before Mandor had offered sufficient information to confirm it.
“Jurt,” I began, “I have been the occasion of many of your ills, but you must realize that you brought them on yourself. If you would not attack me, I would have no need to defend myself—”
There came a clicking, grinding sound. It took me several seconds to realize that it was a gnashing of teeth. “Miy adoption by your father meant nothing to me,” I said, “beyond the fact that he honored me by it. I was not even aware until recently that it had occurred.” “You lie!” he hissed. “You tricked him some way, to get ahead of us in the succession.”
“You've got to be kidding,” I said. “We're all so far down on the list that it doesn't matter.”
“Not for the Crown, you fool! For the House! Our father isn't all that well!”
“I'm sorry to hear that,” I said. “But I'd never even thought of it that way. And Mandor's ahead of all of us, anyhow.”
“And now you're second.”
“Not by choice. Come on! I'll never see the title. You know that!”
He drew himself upright, and when he moved I became aware of a faint prismatic nimbus that had been clinging to his outline.
“That isn't the real reason,” I continued. “You've never liked me, but you're not after me because of the succession. You're hiding something now. It's got to be something else, for all this activity on your pan. By the way, you did send the Fire Angel, didn't you?”
The Great Book of Amber Page 132