“She’s his mother!” I said involuntarily.
He laughed. “That’s how you get to be a prince,” he said. “Have the queen be your mother.”
But then, that would mean… “Brand!” I said. Then, “Brand of Amber.”
He nodded. “You’ve heard the story.”
“Not really. Just that much,” I replied. “Tell it to me.”
“Well, she snared herself an Amberite — the prince called Brand,” he said. “Rumor had it they met over some magical operation and it was love at first blood. She wanted to keep him, and I’ve heard it said they actually were married in a secret ceremony. But he wasn’t interested in the throne of Kashfa, though he was the only one she might have been willing to see on it. He traveled a lot, was away for long stretches of time. I’ve heard it said that he was responsible for the Days of Darkness years ago, and that he died in a great battle between Chaos and Amber at that time, at the hands of his kinsmen.”
“Yes,” I said, and Dave gave me a strange look, half puzzlement, half scrutiny. “Tell me more about Rinaldo,” I said quickly.
“Not much to say,” he replied. “She bore him, and I’ve heard she taught him something of her Arts. He didn’t know his father all that well, Brand being away so much. Kind of a wild kid. Ran away any number of times and hung out with a band of outlaws —”
“Dalt’s people?” I asked.
He nodded. “Rode with them, they say — even though his mother’d placed bounties on many of their heads at that time.”
“Wait a minute. You say that she really hated these outlaws and mercenaries —”
“Hate’ may be the wrong word. She’d never bothered about them before, but when her son got friendly with them I think she just got mad.”
“She thought they were a bad influence?”
“No, I think she didn’t like it that he’d run to them and they’d take him in whenever he had a falling out with her.”
“Yet you say that she saw Dalt paid off out of the Keep’s treasure and allowed him to ride away, after they’d forced her hand against Sharu Garrul.”
“Yup. Big argument at the time, too, between Rinaldo and his mom, over just that point. And she finally gave in. That’s the way I heard it from a couple of guys who were there. One of the few times the boy actually stood up to her and won, they say. In fact, that’s why the guys deserted. She ordered all witnesses to their argument executed, they told me. They were the only ones managed to get away.”
“Tough lady.”
“Yup.”
We walked on back to the area where we’d been seated and ate some more food. The song of the wind rose in pitch and a storm began out at sea. I asked Dave about big doglike creatures, and he told me that packs of them would probably be feasting on the battle’s victims tonight. They were native to the area.
“We divide the spoils,” he said. “I want the rations, the wine and any valuables. They just want the dead.”
“What good are the valuables to you?” I said.
He looked suddenly apprehensive, as if I were considering the possibility of robbing him.
“Oh, it don’t really amount to much. It’s just that I’ve always been a thrifty person,” he said, “and I make it sound more important than it is. “You never can tell,” he added.
“That’s true,” I agreed.
“How’d you get here anyway, Merle?” he asked quickly, as if to get my mind off the subject of his loot.
“Walked,” I said.
“That don’t sound right. Nobody comes here willingly.”
“I didn’t know I was coming here. Don’t think I’ll be staying long either,” I said, as I saw him take up the small knife and begin toying with it. “No sense going below and begging after hospitality at a time like this.”
“That’s true,” he remarked.
Was the old coot actually thinking of attacking me, to protect his cache? He could be more than a little mad by now, living up here alone in his stinking cave, pretending to be a saint.
“Would you be interested in returning to Kashfa,” I said, “if I could set you on the right trail?”
He gave me a crafty look. “You don’t know that much about Kashfa,” he said, “or you wouldn’t have been asking me all those questions. Now you say you can send me home?”
“I take it you’re not interested?”
He sighed. “Not really, not any more. It’s too late now. This is my home. I enjoy being a hermit.”
I shrugged. “Well, thanks for feeding me, and thanks for all the news.” I got to my feet.
“Where are you going now?” he asked.
“I think I’ll look around some, then head for home.” I backed away from that small lunatic glow in his eyes.
He raised the knife, his grip tightened on it. Then he lowered it and cut another piece of cheese.
“Here, you can take some of the cheese with you if you want,” he said.
“No, that’s okay. Thanks.”
“Just trying to save you some money. Have a good trip.”
“Right. Take it easy.”
I heard his chuckling all the way back to the trail. Then the wind drowned it.
I spent the next several hours reconnoitering. I moved around in the hills. I descended into the steaming, quaking lands. I walked along the seashore. I passed through the rear of the normal-seeming area and crossed the neck of the ice field. In all of this, I stayed as far from the Keep itself as possible. I wanted to fix the place as firmly in mind as I could, so that I could End my way back through Shadow rather than crossing a threshold the hard way. I saw several packs of wild dogs on my journey, but they were more intent upon the battle’s corpses than anything that moved.
There were oddly inscribed boundary stones at each topographical border, and I found myself wondering whether they were mapmakers’ aids or something more. Finally, I wrestled one from the burning land over about fifteen feet into a region of ice and snow. I was knocked down almost immediately by a heavy tremor; I was able to scramble away in time, however, from the opening of a crevice and the spewing of geysers. The hot area claimed that small slice of the cold land in less than half an hour. Fortunately, I moved quickly to get out of the way of any further turmoil, and I observed the balance of these phenomena from a distance. But there was more to come.
I crouched back among the rocks, having reached the foothills of the range from which I had started by crossing through a section of the volcanic area. There, I rested and watched for a time while that small segment of terrain rearranged itself and the wind smeared smoke and steam across the land. Rocks bounced and rolled; dark carrion birds went out of their way to avoid what had to be some interesting thermals.
Then I beheld a movement which I first assumed to be seismic in origin. The boundary stone I had shifted rose slightly and jogged to the side. A moment later, however, and it was elevated even farther, appearing almost as if it had been levitated slightly above the ground. Then it drifted across the blasted area, moving in a straight line at a uniform speed, until — as nearly as I could judge — it had recovered its earlier position. And there it settled. Moments later the turmoil recommenced, and this time it was a jolting shrug of the ice sheet, jerking back, reclaiming the invaded area.
I called up my Logrus sight, and I was able to make out a dark glow surrounding the stone. This was connected by a long, straight, steady stream of light of the same general hue, extending from a high rear tower of the Keep. Fascinating. I would have given a lot for a view of the interior of that place.
Then, born with a sigh, maturing to a whistle, a whirlwind rose from the disputed area, growing, graying, swaying, to advance suddenly toward me like the swung proboscis of some cloudy, sky-high elephant. I turned and climbed higher, weaving my way amid rocks and around the shoulders of hillsides. The thing pursued, as if there were an intelligence guiding its movements. And the way it hung together while traversing that irregular terrain indicated an artificial nature, which in this place most likely meant magic.