“Life, in exile,” Deirdre said. “All right. I agree.”
“So do I,” said Flora.
“And I,” Llewella followed.
“Gerard will probably agree too,” I said. “But I really wonder whether Brand will feel the same as the rest of us. I’ve a feeling he may not.”
“Let us check with Gerard,” Benedict said. “If Brand makes it and proves the only holdout, the guilty party will know he has only one enemy to avoid — and they can always work out their own terms on that count.”
“All right,” I said, smothering a few misgivings, and I recontacted Gerard, who agreed also.
So we rose to our feet and swore that much by the Unicorn of Amber — Julian’s oath having an extra clause to it — and swore to enforce exile on any of our own number who violated the oath. Frankly, I did not think it would net us anything, but it is always nice to see families doing things together.
After that, everyone made a point of mentioning that he would be remaining in the palace overnight, presumably to indicate that no one feared anything Brand might have to say in the morning — and especially to indicate that no one had a desire to get out of town, a thing that would not be forgotten, even if Brand gave up the ghost during the night. In that I had no further questions to put to the group and no one had sprung forward to own up to the misdeeds covered by the oath, I leaned back and listened for a time after that. Things came apart, falling into a series of conversations and exchanges, one of the main topics being an attempted reconstruction of the library tableau, each of us in his own place and, invariably, why each of us was in a position to have done it, except for the speaker. I smoked; I said nothing on the subject. Deirdre did spot an interesting possibility, however. Namely, that Gerard could have done the stabbing himself while we were all crowded around, and that his heroic efforts were not prompted by any desire to save Brand’s neck, but rather to achieve a position where he could stop his tongue — in which case Brand would never make it through the night. Ingenious, but I just couldn’t believe it. No one else bought it either. At least, no one volunteered to go upstairs and throw Gerard out. After a time Fiona drifted over and sat beside me.
“Well, I’ve tried the only thing I could think of,” she said. “I hope some good comes of it.”
“It may,” I said.
“I see that you have added a peculiar piece of ornamentation to your wardrobe,” she said, raising the Jewel of Judgment between her thumb and forefinger and studying it.
Then she raised her eyes.
“Can you make it do tricks for you?” she asked.
“Some,” I said.
“Then you knew how to attune it. It involves the Pattern, doesn’t it?”
“Yes. Eric told me how to go about it, right before he died.”
“I see.”
She released it, settled back into her seat, regarded the flames.
“Did he give you any cautions to go along with it?” she asked.
“No,” I said.
“I wonder whether that was a matter of design or circumstance?”
“Well, he was pretty busy dying at the time. That limited our conversation considerably.”
“I know. I was wondering whether his hatred for you outweighed his hopes for the realm, or whether he was simply ignorant of some of the principles involved.”
“What do you know about it?”
“Think again of Eric’s death, Corwin. I was not there when it occurred, but I came in early for the funeral. I was present when his body was bathed, shaved, dressed — and I examined his wounds. I do not believe that any of them were fatal, in themselves. There were three chest wounds, but only one looked as if it might have run into the mediastinal area —”
“One’s enough, if —”
“Wait,” she said. “It was difficult, but I tried judging the angle of the puncture with a thin glass rod. I wanted to make an incision, but Caine would not permit it. Still, I do not believe that his heart or arteries were damaged. It is still not too late to order an autopsy, if you would like me to check further on this. I am certain that his injuries and the general stress contributed to his death, but I believe it was the jewel that made the difference.”
“Why do you think this?”
“Because of some things that Dworkin said when I studied with him — and things that I noticed afterward, because of this. He indicated that while it conferred unusual abilities, it also represented a drain on the vitality of its master. The longer you wear it, the more it somehow takes out of you. I paid attention after that, and I noticed that Dad wore it only seldom and never kept it on for long periods of time.”
My thoughts returned to Eric, the day he lay dying on the slopes of Kolvir, the battle raging about him. I remembered my first look at him, his face pale, his breath labored, blood on his chest… And the Jewel of Judgment, there on its chain, was pulsing, heartlike, among the moist folds of his garments. I had never seen it do that before, or since. I recalled that the effect had grown fainter, weaker. And when he died and I folded his hands atop it, the phenomenon had ceased.
“What do you know of its function?” I asked her.
She shook her head.
“Dworkin considered that a state secret. I know the obvious — weather control — and I inferred from some of Dad’s remarks that it has something to do with a heightened perception, or a higher perception. Dworkin had mentioned it primarily as an example of the pervasiveness of the Pattern in everything that gives us power — even the Trumps contain the Pattern, if you look closely, look long enough — and he cited it as an instance of a conservation principle: all of our special powers have their price. The greater the power, the larger the investment. The Trumps are a small matter, but there is still an element of fatigue involved in their employment. Walking through Shadow, which is an exercise of the image of the Pattern which exists within us, is an even greater expenditure. To essay the Pattern itself, physically, is a massive drain on one’s energies. But the jewel, he said, represents an even higher octave of the same thing, and its cost to its employer is exponentially greater.”
Thus, if correct, another ambiguous insight into the character of my late and least favored brother. If he were aware of this phenomenon and had donned the jewel and worn it overlong anyhow, in the defense of Amber, it made him something of a hero. But then, seen in this light, his passing it along to me, without warnings, became a deathbed effort at a final piece of vengeance. But he had exempted me from his curse, he’d said, so as to spend it properly on our enemies in the field. This, of course, only meant that he hated them a little more than he hated me and was deploying his final energies as strategically as possible, for Amber. I thought then of the partial character of Dworkin’s notes, as I had recovered them from the hiding place Eric had indicated. Could it be that Eric had acquired them intact and had purposely destroyed that portion containing the cautions so as to damn his successor? That notion did not strike me as quite adequate, for he had had no way of knowing that I would return when I did, as I did, that the course of battle would run as it had, and that I would indeed be his successor. It could just as easily have been one of his favorites that followed him to power, in which case he would certainly not have wanted him to inherit any booby traps. No. As I saw it, either Eric was not really aware of this property of the stone, having acquired only partial instructions for its use, or someone had gotten to those papers before I had and removed sufficient material to leave me with a mortal liability. It may well have been the hand of the real enemy, once again.
“Do you know the safety factor?” I asked.