Roger Zelazny - Amber 01 - Nine Princes In Amber

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Nine Princes In Amber
Chapter 1
It was starting to end, after what seemed most of eternity to me.
I attempted to wriggle my toes, succeeded. I was sprawled there in a
hospital bed and my legs were done up in plaster casts, but they were still
mine.
I squeezed my eyes shut, and opened them, three times.
The room grew steady.
Where the hell was I?
Then the fogs were slowly broken, and some of that which is called memory
returned to me. I recalled nights and nurses and needles. Every time things
would begin to clear a bit, someone would come in and jab me with something.
That's how it had been. Yes. Now, though, I was feeling halfway decent. They'd
have to stop.
Wouldn't they?
The thought came to assail me: Maybe not.
Some natural skepticism as to the purity of all human motives came and sat
upon my chest. I'd been over narcotized, I suddenly knew. No real reason for
it, from the way I felt, and no reason for them to stop now, if they'd been
paid to keep it up. So play it cool and stay dopey, said a voice which was my
worst, if wiser, self.
So I did.
A nurse poked her head in the door about ten minutes later, and I was, of
course, still sacking Z's. She went away.
By then, I'd reconstructed a bit of what had occurred
I had been in some sort of accident, I remembered vaguely. What had
happened after that was still a blur; and as to what had happened before, I
had no inkling whatsoever. But I had first been in a hospital and then brought
to this place, I remembered. Why? I didn't know.
However, my legs felt pretty good. Good enough to hold me up, though I
didn't know how much time had lapsed since their breaking - and I knew they'd
been broken.
So I sat up. It took me a real effort, as my muscles were very tired. It
was dark outside and a handful of stars were standing naked beyond the window.
I winked back at them and threw my legs over the edge of the bed.
I was dizzy, but after a while it subsided and I got up, gripping the rail
at the head of the bed, and I took my first step.
Okay. My legs held me.
So, theoretically, I was in good enough shape to walk out.
I made it back to the bed, stretched out and thought. I was sweating and
shaking. Visions of sugar plums, etc.
In the State of Denmark there was the odor of decay...
It had been an accident involving an auto, I recalled. One helluva one...
Then the door opened, letting in light, and through slits beneath my
eyelashes I saw a nurse with a hypo in her hand.
She approached my bedside, a hippy broad with dark hair and big arms.
Just as she neared, I sat up.
"Good evening," I said.
"Why - good evening," she replied.
"When do I check out?" I asked.
"I'll have to ask Doctor."
"Do so," I said.
"Please roll up your sleeve."
"No thanks."
"I have to give you an injection"
"No you don't. I don't need it"
"I'm afraid that's for Doctor to say."
"Then send him around and let him say it. But in the meantime, I will not
permit it."
"I'm afraid I have my orders."
"So did Eichmann, and look what happened to him," and I shook my head
slowly.
"Very well," she said. "I'll have to report this...
"Please do," I said, "and while you're at it, tell him I've decided to
check out in the morning."
"That's impossible. You can't even walk - and there were internal
injuries..."
"We'll see," said I. "Good night"
She swished out of sight without answering.
So I lay there and mulled. It seemed I was in some sort of private place -
so somebody was footing the bill. Whom did I know? No visions of relatives
appeared behind my eyes. Friends either. What did that leave? Enemies?
I thought a while.
Nothing.
Nobody to benefact me thus.
I'd gone over a cliff in my car, and into a lake, I suddenly remembered.
And that was all I remembered.
I was...
I strained and began to sweat again.
I didn't know who I was.
But to occupy myself, I sat up and stripped away all my bandages. I seemed
all right underneath them, and it seemed the right thing to do. I broke the
cast on my right leg, using a metal strut I'd removed from the head of the
bed. I had a sudden feeling that I had to get out in a hurry, that there was
something I had to do.
I tested my right leg. It was okay.
I shattered the cast on my left leg, got up, went to the closet.
No clothes there.
Then I heard the footsteps. I returned to my bed and covered over the
broken casts and the discarded bandages.
The door swung inward once again.
Then there was light all around me, and there was a beefy guy in a white
jacket standing with his hand on the wall switch.
"What's this I hear about you giving the nurse a hard time?" he asked, and
there was no more feigning sleep.
"I don't know," I said. "What is it?"
That troubled him for a second or two, said the frown then, "It's time for
your shot."
"Are you an M.D.?" I asked.
"No, but I'm authorized to give you a shot"
"And I refuse it'" I said, "as I've a legal right to do. What's it to
you?"
"You'll have your shot," he said, and be moved around to the left side of
the bed. He had a hypo in one hand which bad been out of sight till then.
It was a very foul blow, about four inches below the belt buckle, I'd say,
and it left him on his knees.
"____ ____!" he said, after a time.
"Come within spitting distance again," I said, "and see what happens."
"We've got ways to deal with patients like you," he gasped.
So I knew the time had come to act.
"Where are my clothes?" I said.
"____ ____!" he repeated.
"Then I guess I'll have to take yours. Give them to me."
It became boring with the third repetition, so I threw the bedclothes over
his head and clobbered him with the metal strut.
Within two minutes, I'd say, I was garbed all in the color of Moby Dick
and vanilla ice cream. Ugly.
I shoved him into the closet and looked out the lattice window. I saw the
Old Moon with the New Moon in her arms, hovering above a row of poplars. The
grass was silvery and sparkled. The night was bargaining weakly with the sun.
Nothing to show, for me, where this place was located. I seemed to be on the
third floor of the building though, and there was a cast square of light off
to my left and low, seeming to indicate a first floor window with someone
awake behind it.
So I left the room and considered the hallway. Off to the left, it ended
against a wall with a latticed window, and there were four more doors, two on
either side. Probably they let upon more doors like my own. I went and looked
out the window and saw more grounds, more trees, more night, nothing new.
Turning, I headed in the other direction.
Doors, doors, doors, no lights from under any of them, the only sounds my
footsteps from the too big borrowed shoes.
Laughing Boy's wristwatch told me it was five forty-four. The metal strut
was inside my belt, under the white orderly jacket, and it rubbed against my
hipbone as I walked. There was a ceiling fixture about every twenty feet,
casting about forty watts of light.
I came to a stairway, off to the right, leading down. I took it. It was
carpeted and quiet.
The second floor looked like my own, rows of rooms, so I continued on.
When I reached the first floor I turned right, looking for the door with
light leaking out from beneath it.
I found it, way up near the end of the corridor, and I didn't bother to
knock.
The guy was sitting there in a garish bathrobe, at a big shiny desk, going
over some sort of ledger. This was no wardroom. He looked up at me with
burning eyes all wide and lips swelling toward a yell they didn't reach,
perhaps because of my determined expression. He stood, quickly.
I shut the door behind me, advanced, and said:
"Good morning. You're in trouble."
People must always be curious as to trouble, because after the three
seconds it took me to cross the room, his words were:
"What do you mean?"
"I mean," I said, "that you're about to suffer a lawsuit for holding me
incommunicado, and another one for malpractice, for your indiscriminate use of
narcotics. I'm already suffering withdrawal symptoms and might do something
violent..."
He stood up.
"Get out of here," he said.
I saw a pack of cigarettes on his desk. I helped myself and said, "Sit
down and shut up. We've got things to talk about."
He sat down, but he didn't shut up:
"You're breaking several regulations," he said.
"So we'll let a court decide who's liable," I replied. "I want my clothes
and my personal effects. I'm checking out.."
"You're in no condition - "
"Nobody asked you. Pony up this minute, or answer to the law."
He reached toward a button on his desk, but I slapped his hand away.
"Now!" I repeated. "You should have pressed that when I came in. It's too
late now."
"Mr. Corey, you're being most difficult ...
Corey?
"I didn't check me in here," I said, "but I damn well have a right to
check me out. And now's the time. So let's get about it."
"Obviously, you're in no condition to leave this institution," he replied.
"I cannot permit it I am going to call for someone to escort you back to your
room and put you to bed."
"Don't try it," I said, "or you'll find out what condition I'm in. Now,
I've several questions. The first one's Who checked me in, and who's footing
my bill at this place?"
"Very well," he sighed, and his tiny, sandy mustaches sagged as low as
they could.
He opened a drawer, put his hand inside, and I was wary.
I knocked it down before he had the safety catch off: a .32 automatic,
very neat; Colt. I snapped the catch myself when I retrieved it from the desk
top; and I pointed it and said: "You will answer my questions. Obviously you
consider me dangerous. You may be right."
He smiled weakly, lit a cigarette himself, which was a mistake, if he
intended to indicate aplomb. His hands shook.
"All right, Corey - if it will make you happy," he said, "your sister
checked you in"
"?" thought I.
"Which sister?" I asked.
"Evelyn," he said.
No bells. So, "That's ridiculous. I haven't seen Evelyn in years," I said.
"She didn't even know I was in this part of the country."
He shrugged.
"Nevertheless ...
"Where's she staying now? I want to call her," I said.
"I don't have her address handy."
"Get it."
He rose, crossed to a filing cabinet, opened it, riffled, withdrew a card.
I studied it. Mrs. Evelyn Flaumel...The New York address was not familiar
either, but I committed it to memory. As the card said, my first name was
Carl. Good. More data.
I stuck the gun in my belt beside the strut then, safety back on, of
course.
"Okay," I told him. "Where are my clothes, and what're you going to pay
me?"
"Your clothes were destroyed in the accident," he said, "and I must tell
you that your legs were definitely broken - the left one in two places.
Frankly, I can't see how you're managing to stay on your feet. It's only been
two weeks - "
"I always heal fast," I said. "Now, about the money...
"What money?"
"The out-of-court settlement for my malpractice complaint, and the other
one."
"Don't be ridiculous!"
"Who's being ridiculous? I'll settle for a thousand, cash, right now."
"I won't even discuss such a thing."
"Well, you'd better consider it - and win or lose, think about the name it
will give this place if I manage enough pretrial publicity. I'll certainly get
in touch with the AMA, the newspapers. The - "
"Blackmail," he said, "and I'll have nothing to do with it."
"Pay now, or pay later, after a court order," I said. "I don't care. But
it'll be cheaper this way."
If he came across, I'd know my guesses were right and there was something
crooked involved.
He glared at me, I don't know how long.
Finally, "I haven't got a thousand here," he said.
"Name a compromise figure," I said.
After another pause, "It's larceny."
"Not if it's cash-and-carry, Charlie. So, call it."
"I might have five hundred in my safe."
"Get it."
He told me, after inspecting the contents of a small wall safe, there was
four-thirty, and I didn't want to leave fingerprints on the safe just to check
him out. So I accepted and stuffed the bills into my side pocket.
"Now what's the nearest cab company that serves this place?"
He named it, and I checked in the phone book, which told me I was upstate.
I made him dial it and call me a cab, because I didn't know the name of
the place and didn't want him to know the condition of my memory. One of the
bandages I had removed had been around my head.
While he was making the arrangement I heard him name the place: it was
called Greenwood Private Hospital.
I snubbed out my cigarette, picked up another, and removed perhaps two
hundred pounds from my feet by resting in a brown upholstered chair beside his
bookcase.
"We wait here and you'll see me to the door," I said.
I never heard another word out of him.
Nine Princes In Amber
Chapter 2
It was about eight o'clock when the cab deposited me on a random corner in
the nearest town. I paid off the driver and walked for around twenty minutes.
Then I stopped in a diner, found a booth and had juice, a couple of eggs,
toast, bacon, and three cups of coffee. The bacon was too greasy.
After giving breakfast a good hour, I started walking, found a clothing
store, and waited till its nine-thirty opening.
I bought a pair of slacks, three sport shirts, a belt, some underwear, and
a pair of shoes that fit. I also picked up a handkerchief, a wallet, and
pocket comb.
Then I found a Greyhound station and boarded a bus for New York. No one
tried to stop me. No one seemed to be looking for me.
Sitting there, watching the countryside all autumn-colored and tickled by
brisk winds beneath a bright, cold sky, I reviewed everything I knew about
myself and my circumstances.
I had been registered at Greenwood as Carl Corey by my sister Evelyn
Flaumel. This had been subsequent to an auto accident some fifteen or so days
past, in which I had suffered broken bones which no longer troubled me. I
didn't remember Sister Evelyn. The Greenwood people had been instructed to
keep me passive, were afraid of the law when I got loose and threatened them
with it. Okay. Someone was afraid of me, for some reason. I'd play it for all
it was worth.
I forced my mind back to the accident, dwelled upon it till my head hurt.
It was no accident. I had that impression, though I didn't know why. I would
find out, and someone would pay. Very, very much would they pay. An anger, a
terrible one, flared within the middle of my body. Anyone who tried to hurt
me, to use me, did so at his own peril and now he would receive his due,
whoever he was, this one. I felt a strong desire to kill, to destroy whoever
had been responsible, and I knew that it was not the first time in my life
that I had felt this thing, and I knew, too, that I had followed through on it
in the past. More than once.
I stared out the window, watching the dead leaves fall.
When I hit the Big City, the first thing I did was to get a shave and
haircut in the nearest clip joint, and the second was to change my shirt and
undershirt in the men's room, because I can't stand hair down my back. The .32
automatic, belonging to the nameless individual at Greenwood, was in my
right-hand jacket pocket. I suppose that if Greenwood or my sister wanted me
picked up in a hurry, a Sullivan violation would come in handy. But I decided
to hang onto it. They'd have to find me first, and I wanted a reason. I ate a
quick lunch, rode subways and buses for an hour, then got a cab to take me out
to the Westchester address of Evelyn, my nominal sister and hopeful jogger of
memories.
Before I arrived, I'd already decided on the tack I'd take.
So, when the door to the huge old place opened in response to my knock,
after about a thirty-second wait, I knew what I was going to say. I had
thought about it as I'd walked up the long, winding, white gravel driveway,
between the dark oaks and the bright maples, leaves crunching beneath my feet,
and the wind cold on my fresh-scraped neck within the raised collar of my
jacket. The smell of my hair tonic mingled with a musty odor from the ropes of
ivy that crowded all over the walls of that old, brick place. There was no
sense of familiarity. I didn't think I had ever been here before.
I had knocked, and there had come an echo.
Then I'd jammed my hands into my pockets and waited.
When the door opened, I had smiled and nodded toward the mole-flecked maid
with a swarthy complexion and a Puerto Rican accent.
"Yes?" she said,
"I'd like to see Mrs. Evelyn Flaumel, please."
"Who shall I say is calling?"
"Her brother Carl."
"Oh come in please," she told me.
I entered a hallway, the floor a mosaic of tiny salmon and turquoise
tiles, the wall mahogany, a trough of big-leafed green things occupying a room
divider to my left. From overhead, a cube of glass and enamel threw down a
yellow light.
The gal departed, and I sought around me for something familiar.
Nothing.
So I waited.
Presently, the maid returned, smiled, nodded, and said, "Please follow me.
She will see you in the library."
I followed, up three stairs and down a corridor past two closed doors, The
third one to my left was open, and the maid indicated I should enter it. I did
so, then paused on the threshold.
Like all libraries, it was full of books. It also held three paintings,
two indicating quiet landscapes and one a peaceful seascape. The floor was
heavily carpeted in green. There was a big globe beside the big desk with
Africa facing me and a wall-to-wall window behind it, eight stepladders of
glass. But none of these was the reason I'd paused.
The woman behind the desk wore a wide-collared, V-necked dress of
blue-green, had long hair and low bangs, all of a cross between sunset clouds
and the outer edge of a candle flame in an otherwise dark room, and natural, I
somehow knew, and her eyes behind glasses I didn't think she needed were as
blue as Lake Erie at three o'clock on a cloudless summer afternoon; and the
color of her compressed smile matched her hair. But none of these was the
reason I'd paused.
I knew her, from somewhere, though I couldn't say where.
I advanced, holding my own smile.
"Hello," I said.
"Sit down," said she, "please," indicating a high-backed, big-armed chair
that bulged and was orange, of the kind just tilted at the angle in which I
loved to loaf.
I did so, and she studied me.
"Glad to see you're up and around again."
"Me, too. How've you been?"
"Fine, thank you. I must say I didn't expect to see you here."
"I know," I fibbed, "but here I am, to thank you for your sisterly
kindness and care." I let a slight note of irony sound within the sentence
just to observe her response.
At that point an enormous dog entered the room - an Irish wolfhound - and
it curled up in front of the desk. Another followed and circled the globe
twice before lying down.
"Well," said she, returning the irony, "it was the least I could do for
you. You should drive more carefully."
"In the future," I said, "I'll take greater precautions, I promise." I
didn't now what sort of game I was playing, but since she didn't know that I
didn't know, I'd decided to take her for all the information I could. "I
figured you would be curious as to the shape I was in, so I came to let you
see."
"I was, am," she replied. "Have you eaten?"
"A light lunch, several hours ago." I said.
So she rang up the maid and ordered food. Then "I thought you might take
it upon yourself to leave Greenwood," she said, "when you were able, I didn't
think it would be so soon, though, and I didn't think you'd come here."
"I know," I said, "that's why I did."
She offered me a cigarette and I took it, lit hers, lit mine.
"You always were unpredictable," she finally told me. "While this has
helped you often in the past, however, I wouldn't count on it now."
"What do you mean?" I said.
"The stakes are far too high for a bluff, and I think that's what you're
trying, walking in here like this. I've always admired your courage, Corwin,
but don't be a fool. You know the score."
Corwin? File it away, under "Corey."
"Maybe I don't," I said. "I've been asleep for a while, remember?"
"You mean you haven't been in touch?"
"Haven't had a chance, since I woke up."
She leaned her head to one side and narrowed her wonderful eyes.
"Rash," she said, "but possible. Just possible. You might mean it. You
might. I'll pretend that you do, for now. In that case, you may have done a
smart safe thing. Let me think about it."
I drew on my cigarette, hoping she'd say something more. But she didn't,
so I decided to seize what seemed the advantage I'd obtained in this game I
didn't understand with players I didn't know for stakes I had no inkling of.
"The fact that I'm here indicates something," I said.
"Yes," she replied, "I know. But you're smart, so it could indicate more
than one thing. We'll wait and see."
Wait for what? See what? Thing?
Steaks then arrived and a pitcher of beer, so I was temporarily freed from
the necessity of making cryptic and general statements for her to ponder as
subtle or cagey. Mine was a good steak, pink inside and full of juice, and I
tore at the fresh tough-crusted bread with my teeth and gulped the beer with a
great hunger and a thirst. She laughed as she watched me, while cutting off
tiny pieces of her own.
"I love the gusto with which you assail life, Corwin. It's one of the
reasons I'd hate to see you part company with it."
"Me, too," I muttered.
And while I ate, I pondered her. I saw her in a low-cut gown, green as the
green of the sea, with full skirts. There was music, dancing, voices behind
us. I wore black and silver and... The vision faded. But it was a true piece
of my memory, I knew; and inwardly I cursed that I lacked it in its entirety.
What had she been saying, in her green, to me in my black and silver, that
night, behind the music, the dancing and the voices?
I poured us more beer from the pitcher and decided to test the vision.
"I remember one night," I said, "when you were all in green and I in my
colors. How lovely things seemed - and the music..."
Her face grew slightly wistful, the cheeks smoothing.
"Yes," she said. "Were not those the days? ...You really have not been in
touch?"
"Word of honor," I said, for whatever that was worth.
"Things have grown far worse," she said, "and the Shadows contain more
horrors than any had thought..."
"And ...?" I inquired.
"He still has his troubles," she finished,
"Oh."
"Yes," she went on, "and he'll want to know where you stand."
"Right here," I said,
"You mean...
"For now," I told her, perhaps too quickly, for her eyes had widened too
much, "since I still don't know the full state of affairs," whatever that
meant.
"Oh."
And we finished our steaks and the beer, giving the two bones to the dogs.
We sipped some coffee afterward, and I came to feel a bit brotherly but
suppressed it. I asked, "What of the others?" which could mean anything, but
sounded safe.
I was afraid for a moment that she was going to ask me what I meant.
Instead, though, she leaned back in her chair, stared at the ceiling, and
said, "As always, no one new has been heard from. Perhaps yours was the wisest
way. I'm enjoying it myself. But how can one forget - the glory?" I lowered my
eyes, because I wasn't sure what they should contain. "One can't," I said.
"One never can."
There followed a long, uncomfortable silence, after which she said: "Do
you hate me?"
"Of course not," I replied. "How could I - all things considered?"
This seemed to please her, and she showed her teeth, which were very
white.
"Good, and thank you," she said. "Whatever else, you're a gentleman."
I bowed and smirked.
"You'll turn my head."
"Hardly," she said, "all things considered."
And I felt uncomfortable.
My anger was there, and I wondered whether she knew who it was that I
needed to stay it. I felt that she did. I fought with the desire to ask it
outright, suppressed it.
"Well, what do you propose doing?" she finally asked, and being on the
spot I replied, "Of course, you don't trust me..."
"How could we?"
I determined to remember that we.
"Well, then. For the time being. I'm willing to place myself under your
surveillance. I'll be glad to stay right here, where you can keep an eye on
me."
"And afterward?"
"Afterward? We'll see."
"Clever," she said, "very clever. And you place me in an awkward
position." (I had said it because I didn't have any place else to go. and my
blackmail money wouldn't last me too long.) "Yes, of course you may stay. But
let me warn you" - and here she fingered what I had thought to be some sort of
pendant on a chain about her neck - "This is an ultrasonic dog whistle. Donner
and Blitzen here have four brothers, and they're all trained to take care of
nasty people and they all respond to my whistle. So don't start to walk toward
any place where you won't be desired. A toot or two and even you will go down
before them. Their kind is the reason there are no wolves left in Ireland. you
know."
"I know," I said, realizing that I did.
"Yes." she continued, "Eric will like it that you are my guest. It should
cause him to leave you alone, which is what you want, n'est-ce-pas?"
"Oui." I said.
Eric! It meant something! I had known an Eric, and it had been very
important, somehow. that I did. Not recently. But the Eric I had known was
still around, and that was important.
Why?
I hated him, that was one reason. Hated him enough to have contemplated
killing him. Perhaps I'd even tried.
Also, there was some bond between us, I knew.
Kinship?
Yes, that was it. Neither of us liked it being brothers...I remembered, I
remembered...
Big, powerful Eric, with his wet curly beard, and his eyes - just like
Evelyn's!
I was racked with a new surge of memory, as my temples began to throb and
the back of my neck was suddenly warm.
I didn't let any of it show on my face, but forced myself to take another
drag on my cigarette, another sip of beer, as I realized that Evelyn was
indeed my sister! Only Evelyn wasn't her name. I couldn't think of what it
was, but it wasn't Evelyn. I'd be careful, I resolved. I'd not use any name at
all when addressing her, until I remembered.
And what of me? And what was it that was going on around me?
Eric, I suddenly felt, had had some connection with my accident. It should
have been a fatal one, only I'd pulled through. He was the one, wasn't he?
Yes, my feelings replied. It had to be Eric. And Evelyn was working with him,
paying Greenwood to keep me in a coma. Better than being dead, but...
I realized that I had just somehow delivered myself into Eric's hands by
coming to Evelyn, and I would be his prisoner, would be open to new attack, if
I stayed.
But she had suggested that my being her guest would cause him to leave me
alone. I wondered. I couldn't take anything at face value. I'd have to be
constantly on my guard. Perhaps it would be better if I just went away, let my
memories return gradually.
But there was this terrible sense of urgency. I had to find out the full
story as soon as possible and act as soon as I knew it. It lay like a
compulsion upon me. If danger was the price of memory and risk the cost of
opportunity, then so be it. I'd stay.
"And I remember," Evelyn said, and I realized that she had been talking
for a while and I hadn't even been listening. Perhaps it was because of the
reflective quality of her words, not really requiring any sort of response -
and because of the urgency of my thoughts.
"And I remember the day you beat Julian at his favorite game and he threw
a glass of wine at you and cursed you. But you took the prize. And he was
suddenly afraid he had gone too far. But you laughed then, though, and drank a
glass with him. I think he felt badly over that show of temper, normally being
so cool, and I think he was envious of you that day. Do you recall? I think he
has, to a certain extent, imitated many of your ways since then. But I still
hate him and hope that he goes down shortly. I feel he will..."
Julian, Julian, Julian. Yes and no. Something about a game and my baiting
a man and shattering an almost legendary self-control. Yes, there was a
feeling of familiarity; and no, I couldn't really say for certain what all had
been involved.
"And Caine, how you gulled him! He hates you yet, you know..."
I gathered I wasn't very well liked. Somehow, the feeling pleased me.
And Caine, too, sounded familiar. Very.
Eric, Julian, Caine, Corwin. The names swam around in my head, and in a
way, it was too much to hold within me.
"It's been so long..." I said, almost involuntarily, and it seemed to be
true.
"Corwin," she said, "let's not fence. You want more than security, I know
that. And you're still strong enough to get something out of this, if you play
your hand just right. I can't guess what you have in mind, but maybe we can
make a deal with Eric." The "we" had obviously shifted. She had come to some
sort of conclusion as to my worth in whatever was going on. She saw a chance
to gain something for herself, I could tell. I smiled, just a little. "Is that
why you came here?" she continued. "Do you have a proposal for Eric, something
which might require a go-between?"
"I may," I replied, "after I've thought about it some more. I've still so
recently recovered that I have much pondering to do. I wanted to be in the
best place, though, where I could act quickly, if I decided my best interests
lay with Eric."
"Take care," she said. "You know I'll report every word."
"Of course," I said, not knowing that at all and groping for a quick
hedge, "unless your best interests were conjoined with my own."
Her eyebrows moved closer together, and tiny wrinkles appeared between
them.
"I'm not sure what you're proposing."
"I'm not proposing anything, yet," I said. "I'm just being completely open
and honest with you and telling you I don't know. I'm not positive I want to
make a deal with Eric. After all..." I let the words trail off on purpose, for
I had nothing to follow them with, though I felt I should.
"You've been offered an alternative?" She stood up suddenly, seizing her
whistle. "Bleys! Of course!"
"Sit down," I said, "and don't he ridiculous. Would I place myself in your
hands this calmly, this readily, just to be dog meat because you happen to
think of Bleys?"
She relaxed, maybe even sagged a little, then reseated herself.
"Possibly not," she finally said, "but I know you're a gambler, and I know
you're treacherous. If you came here to dispose of a partisan, don't even
bother trying. I'm not that important. You should know that by now. Besides, I
always thought you rather liked me."
"I did, and I do," I said, "and you have nothing to worry about, so don't.
It's interesting, though, that you should mention Bleys."
Bait, bait, bait! There was so much I wanted to know!
"Why? Has he approached you?"
"I'd rather not say," I replied, hoping it would give me an edge of some
kind, and now that I knew Bleys' gender: "If he had, I'd have answered him the
same as I would Eric - 'I'll think about it.'"
"Bleys," she repeated, and Bleys, I said to myself inside my head, Bleys.
I like you. I forget why, and I know there are reasons why I shouldn't - but I
like you. I know it.
We sat awhile, and I felt fatigue but didn't want to show it. I should be
strong. I knew I had to be strong.
I sat there and smiled and said, "Nice library you've got here," and she
said, "Thank you."
"Bleys," she repeated after a time. "Do you really think he has a chance?"
I shrugged.
"Who knows? Not I, for certain. Maybe he does. Maybe not, too."
Then she stared at me, her eyes slightly wide, and her mouth opening.
"Not you?" she said, "You're not proposing to try yourself, are you?"
I laughed then, solely for purposes of countering her emotion.
"Don't he silly," I said when I'd finished. "Me?"
But as she said it, I knew she'd struck some chord, some deep-buried thing
which replied with a powerful "Why not?"
I was suddenly afraid.
She seemed relieved, though, at my disavowal of whatever it was I was
disavowing. She smiled then, and indicated a built-in bar off to my left.
"I'd like a little Irish Mist," she said.
"So would I, for that matter," I replied, and I rose and fetched two.
"You know," I said, after I'd reseated myself, "it's pleasant to be
together with you this way, even if it is only for a short time. It brings
back memories."
And she smiled and was lovely.
"You're right," she said, sipping her drink. "I almost feel in Amber with
you around," and I almost dropped my drink.
Amber! The word had sent a bolt of lightning down my spine!
Then she began to cry, and I rose and put my arm around her shoulders to
comfort her.
"Don't cry, little girl. Please don't. It makes me unhappy, too." Amber!
There was something there, something electrical and potent! "There will be
good days once again." I said, softly.
"Do you really believe that?" she asked.
"Yes," I said loudly. "Yes, I do!"
摘要：

NinePrincesInAmberChapter1Itwasstartingtoend,afterwhatseemedmostofeternitytome.Iattemptedtowrigglemytoes,succeeded.Iwassprawledthereinahospitalbedandmylegsweredoneupinplastercasts,buttheywerestillmine.Isqueezedmyeyesshut,andopenedthem,threetimes.Theroomgrewsteady.WherethehellwasI?Thenthefogswereslow...

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