“No.”
“Then he knows. If I could guess it in Rebma, then he knows in Amber — and I did guess, from a wavering of Shadow.”
“Unfortunately,” I said, “I have some misgivings about this expedition, but it’s Bleys’ show.”
“You cop out and let him get axed.”
“Sorry, but I can’t take the chance. He might win. I’m bringing in the fleet.”
“You’ve spoken with Caine, with Gerard?”
“Yes.”
“Then you must think you have a chance upon the waters. But listen, Eric has figured a way to control the Jewel of Judgment, I gather, from court gossip about its double. He can use it to control the weather here. That’s definite. God knows what else he might be able to do with it.”
“Pity,” I said. “We’ll have to suffer it. Can’t let a few storms demoralize us.”
“Corwin, I’ll confess. I spoke with Eric himself three days ago.”
“Why?”
“He asked me. I spoke with him out of boredom. He went into great detail concerning his defenses.”
“That’s because he learned from Julian that we came in together. He’s sure it’ll get back to me.”
“Probably,” he said. “But that doesn’t change what he said.”
“No,” I agreed.
“Then let Bleys fight his own war,” he told me. “You can hit Eric later.”
“He’s about to be crowned in Amber.”
“I know, I know. It’s as easy to attack a king, though, as a prince, isn’t it? What difference does it make what he calls himself at the time, so long as you take him? It’ll still be Eric.”
“True,” I said, “but I’ve committed myself.”
“Then uncommit yourself,” he said.
“’Fraid I can’t do that.”
“Then you’re crazy, Charlie.”
“Probably.”
“Well, good luck, anyhow.”
“Thanks.”
“See you around.”
And that was that, and it troubled me.
Was I heading into a trap?
Eric was no fool. Perhaps he had a real death-gig lined up. Finally, I shrugged and leaned out over the rail, the cards once again behind my belt.
It is a proud and lonely thing to be a prince of Amber, incapable of trust. I wasn’t real fond of it just then, but there I was.
Eric, of course, had controlled the storm we’d just passed through, and it seemed in line with his being weather master in Amber, as Random had told me.
So I tried something myself.
I headed us toward an Amber lousy with snow. It was the most horrible blizzard I could conjure up.
The big flakes began to fall, out there on the ocean.
Let him stop them a normal enough Shadow offering, if he could.
And he did.
Within a half hour’s time the blizzard had died, Amber was virtually impervious — and it was really the only city. I didn’t want to go off course, so I let things be. Eric was master of the weather in Amber.
What to do?
We sailed on, of course. Into the jaws of death.
What can one say?
The second storm was worse than the first, but I held the wheel. It was electrified, and focused only on the fleet. It drove us apart. It cost us forty vessels more.
I was afraid to call Bleys to see what had been done to him.
“Around two hundred thousand troops are left,” he said. “Flash flood,” and I told him what Random had told me.
“I’ll buy it,” he said. “But let’s not dwell on it. Weather or no, we’ll beat him.”
“I hope so.”
I lit a cigarette and leaned across the bow.
Amber should be coming into sight soon, I knew the ways of Shadow now, and I knew how to get there by walking.
But everyone had misgivings.
There would never be a perfect day, though.
So we sailed on, and the darkness came upon us like a sudden wave, and the worst storm of them all struck.
We managed to ride out its black lashings, but I was scared. It was all true, and we were in northern waters. If Caine had kept his word, all well and good. If he was getting us out, he was in an excellent position. So I assumed he had sold us out. Why not? I prepared the fleet — seventy-three vessels remaining — for battle, when I saw him approach. The cards had lied — or else been very correct — when they’d pointed to him as the key figure.
The lead vessel headed toward my own, and I moved forward to meet it. We hove to, and side by side regarded one another. We could have communicated via the Trumps, but Caine didn’t choose to; and he was in the stronger position. Therefore, family etiquette required that he choose his own means. He obviously wanted to be on record as he called out, through an amplifier:
“Corwin! Kindly surrender command of your fleet! I’ve got you outnumbered. You can’t make it through!”
I regarded him across the waves and raised my own amplifier to my lips.
“What of our arrangement?” I asked.
“Null and void,” he said. “Your force is far too weak to hurt Amber, so save lives and surrender it now.”
I looked over my left shoulder and regarded the sun.
“Pray hear me, brother Caine,” said I, “and grant me this then: give me your leave to confer with my captains till the sun stands in high heaven.”
“Very well,” he replied, without hesitation. “They appreciate their positions, I’m sure.”
I turned away then and ordered that the ship he turned about and headed back in the direction of the main body of vessels.
If I tried to flee, Caine would pursue me through the Shadows and destroy the ships, one by one. Gunpowder did not ignite on the real Earth, but if we moved very far away, it too would he employed to our undoing. Caine would find some, for it was probable, were I to depart, the fleet could not sail the Shadow seas without me, and would be left as sitting ducks upon the real waters here. So the crews were either dead or prisoners, whatever I did.
Random had been right.
I drew forth Bleys’ Trump and concentrated till it moved.
“Yes?” he said, and his voice was agitated. I could almost hear the sounds of battle about him.
“We’re in trouble,” I said. “Seventy-three ships made it through, and Caine has called on us to surrender by noon.”
“Damn his eyes!” said Bleys. “I haven’t made it as far as you. We’re in the middle of a fight now. An enormous cavalry force is cutting us to pieces. So I can’t counsel you fairly. I’ve got my own problems. Do as you see fit. They’re coming again!” And the contact was broken.
I drew forth Gerard’s, and sought contact.
When we spoke it seemed I could see a shore line behind him. I seemed to recognize it. If my guess was correct, he was in southern waters. I don’t like to remember our conversation. I asked him if he could help me against Caine, and if he would.
“I only agreed to let you by,” he said. “That is why I withdrew to the south. I couldn’t reach you in time if I wanted to. I did not agree to help you kill our brother.”
And before I could reply, he was gone. He was right, of course. He’d agreed to give me an opportunity, not to fight my battle for me.
What then did that leave me?
I lit a cigarette. I paced the deck. It was no longer morning. The mists had long vanished and the sun warmed my shoulders. Soon it would be noon. Perhaps two hours.
I fingered my cards, weighed the deck in my hand. I could try a contest of wills through them, with either Eric or Caine. There was that power present, and perhaps even others of which I knew nothing. They had been so designed, at the command of Oberon, by the hand of the mad artist Dworkin Barimen, that wild-eyed hunchback who had been a sorcerer, priest, or psychiatrist — the stories conflicted on this point — from some distant Shadow where Dad had saved him from a disastrous fate he had brought upon himself. The details were unknown, but he had always been a bit off his rocker since that time. Still, he was a great artist, and it was undeniable that he possessed some strange power. He had vanished ages ago, after creating the cards and tracing the Pattern in Amber. We had often speculated about him, but no one seemed to know his whereabouts. Perhaps Dad had done him in, to keep his secrets secret.