Chapter 12
Late afternoon on a mountain: the westering sun shone full on the rocks to my left, tailored long shadows for those to the right; it filtered through the foliage about my tomb; it countered to some extent the chill winds of Kolvir. I released Random’s hand and turned to regard the man who sat on the bench before the mausoleum.
It was the face of the youth on the pierced Trump, lines now drawn above the mouth, brow heavier, a general weariness in eye movement and set of jaw which had not been apparent on the card.
So I knew it before Random said, “This is my son Martin.”
Martin rose as I approached him, clasped my hand, said, “Uncle Corwin.” His expression changed but slightly as he said it. He scrutinized me.
He was several inches taller than Random, but of the same light build. His chin and cheekbones had the same general cut to them, his hair was of a similar texture.
I smiled.
“You have been away a long while,” I said. “So was I.”
He nodded.
“But I have never really been in Amber proper,” he said. “I grew up in Rebma — and other places.”
“Then let me welcome you, nephew. You come at an interesting time. Random must have told you about it.”
“Yes,” he said. “That is why I asked to meet you here, rather than there.”
I glanced at Random.
“The last uncle he met was Brand,” Random said, “and under very nasty circumstances. Do you blame him?”
“Hardly. I ran into him myself a bit earlier. Can’t say it was the most rewarding encounter.”
“Ran into him?” said Random. “You’ve lost me.”
“He has left Amber and he has the Jewel of Judgment with him. If I had known earlier what I know now, he would still be in the tower. He is our man, and he is very dangerous.”
Random nodded.
“I know,” he said. “Martin confirmed all our suspicions on the stabbing — and it was Brand. But what is this about the Jewel?”
“He beat me to the place where I had left it on the shadow Earth. He has to walk the Pattern with it and project himself through it, though, to attune it to his use. I just stopped him from doing that on the primal Pattern in the real Amber. He escaped, however. I was just over the hill with Gerard, sending a squad of guards through to Fiona in that place, to prevent his returning and trying again. Our own Pattern and that in Rebma are also under guard because of him.”
“Why does he want so badly to attune it? So he can raise a few storms? Hell, he could take a walk in Shadow and make all the weather he wants.”
“A person attuned to the Jewel could use it to erase the Pattern.”
“Oh? What happens then?”
“The world as we know it comes to an end.”
“Oh,” Random said again. Then, “How the hell do you know?”
“It is a long story and I haven’t the time, but I had it from Dworkin and I believe that much of what he said.”
“He’s still around?”
“Later,” I said.
“Okay. But Brand would have to be mad to do something like that.”
I nodded.
“I believe he thinks he could then cast a new Pattern, redesign the universe with himself as chief executive.”
“Could this be done?”
“Theoretically, perhaps. But even Dworkin has certain doubts that the feat could be repeated effectively now. The combination of factors was unique… Yes, I believe Brand is somewhat mad. Looking back over the years, recalling his personality changes, his cycles of moods, it seems there was something of a schizoid pattern there. I do not know whether the deal he made with the enemy pushed him over the edge or not. It does not really matter. I wish he were back in his tower. I wish Gerard were a worse physician.”
“Do you know who stabbed him?”
“Fiona. You can get the story from her, though.”
He leaned against my epitaph and shook his head.
“Brand,” he said. “Damn him. Any one of us might have killed him on a number of occasions — in the old days. Just when he would get you mad enough, though, he would change. After a while, you would get to thinking he wasn’t such a bad guy after all. Too bad he didn’t push one of us just a little harder at the wrong time…”
“Then I take it he is now fair game?” said Martin.
I looked at him. The muscles in his jaws had tightened and his eyes narrowed. For a moment, all of our faces fled across his, like a riffling of the family cards. All of our egoism, hatred, envy, pride, and abuse seemed to flow by in that instant — and he had not even set foot in Amber yet. Something snapped inside me and I reached out and seized him by the shoulders.
“You have good reason to hate him,” I said, “and the answer to your question is ‘yes.’ The hunting season is open. I see no way to deal with him other than to destroy him. I hated him myself for so long as he remained an abstraction. But — now — it is different. Yes, he must be killed. But do not let that hatred be your baptism into our company. There has been too much of it among us. I look at your face — I don’t know… I am sorry, Martin. Too much is going on right now. You are young. I have seen more things. Some of them bother me — differently. That’s all.”
I released my grip and stepped back.
“Tell me about yourself,” I said.
“I was afraid of Amber for a long while,” he began, “and I guess that I still am. Ever since he attacked me, I have been wondering whether Brand might catch up with me again. I have been looking over my shoulder for years. I have been afraid of all of you, I suppose. I knew most of you as pictures on cards — with bad reputations attached. I told Random — Dad — that I did not want to meet you all at once, and he suggested that I see you first. Neither of us realized at the time that you would be particularly interested in certain things that I know. After I mentioned them, though, Dad said I had to see you as soon as possible. He has been telling me all about what has been going on and — you see, I know something about it.”
“I had a feeling that you might — when a certain name cropped up not too long ago.”
“The Tecys?” Random said.
“The same.”
“It is difficult, deciding where to start…” Martin said.
“I know that you grew up in Rebma, walked the Pattern, and then used your power over Shadow to visit Benedict in Avalon,” I said. “Benedict told you more about Amber and Shadow, taught you the use of the Trumps, coached you in weaponry. Later, you departed to walk in Shadow by yourself. And I know what Brand did to you. That is the sum of my knowledge.”
He nodded, stared off into the west.
“After I left Benedict’s, I traveled for years in Shadow,” he said. “Those were the happiest times I have known. Adventure, excitement, new things to see, to do… In the back of my mind, I always had it that one day when I was smarter and tougher — more experienced — I would journey to Amber and meet my other relatives. Then Brand caught up with me. I was camped on a little hillside, just resting from a long ride and taking my lunch, on my way to visit my friends the Tecys. Brand contacted me then. I had reached Benedict with his Trump, when he was teaching me how to use them, and other times when I had traveled. He had even transported me through occasionally, so I knew what it felt like, knew what it was all about. This felt the same way, and for a moment, I thought that somehow it was Benedict calling me. But no. It was Brand — I recognized him from his picture in the deck. He was standing in the midst of what seemed to be the Pattern. I was curious. I did not know how he had reached me. So far as I knew, there was no Trump for me. He talked for a minute — I forget what he said — and when everything was firm and clear, he — he stabbed me. I pushed him and pulled away then. He held the contact somehow. It was hard for me to break it — and when I did, he tried to reach me again. But I was able to block him. Benedict had taught me that. He tried again, several times, but I kept blocking. Finally, he stopped. I was near to the Tecys. I managed to get onto my horse and make it to their place. I thought I was going to die, because I had never been hurt that badly before. But after a time, I began to recover. Then I grew afraid once again, afraid that Brand would find me and finish what he had begun.”