Roger Zelazny. The Great Book of Amber. The First Amber Pentology – Corwin’s Story: Book 1. Chapter 3, 4

“I have.”

We drove on in silence, and finally the forest began to thin. I’d lost sight of Morgenstern long ago, though I sometimes saw Julian’s falcon pacing us. The road took a turn upward, and we were heading toward a pass between two purple mountains. The gas tank was a little better than a quarter full. Within an hour, we were passing between high shoulders of stone.

“This would be a good place to set up a road block,” said Random.

“That sounds likely,” I said. “What about it, Julian?”

He sighed.

“Yes.” he agreed, “you should be coming upon one very soon. You know how to get by it.”

We did. When we came to the gate, and the guard in green and brown leather, sword unsheathed, advanced upon us, I jerked my thumb toward the back seat and said, “Get the picture?”

He did, and he recognized us, also.

He hastened to raise the gate, and he saluted us as we passed by.

There were two more gates before we made it through the pass, and somewhere along the way it appeared we had lost the hawk. We had gained several thousand feet in elevation now, and I braked the car on a road that crawled along the face of a cliff. To our right hand, there was nothing other than a long way down.

“Get out,” I said. “You’re going to take a walk.”

Julian paled.

“I won’t grovel,” he said. “I won’t beg you for my life.” And he got out.

“Hell,” I said. “I haven’t had a good grovel in weeks! Well . . . go stand by the edge there. A little closer please.” And Random kept his pistol aimed at his head. “A while back.” I told him, “you said that you would probably have supported anyone who occupied Eric’s position.”

“That’s right.”

“Look down.”

He did. It was along way.

“Okay.” I said, “remember that, should things undergo a sudden change. And remember who it was who gave you your life where another would have taken it.

“Come on, Random. Let’s get moving.”

We left him standing there, breathing heavily, his brows woven together.

We reached the top and were almost out of gas. I put it in neutral, killed the engine, and began the long roll down.

“I’ve been thinking,” said Random; “you’ve lost none of your old guile. I’d probably have killed him, myself, for what he tried. But I think you did the right thing. I think he will throw us his support, if we can get an edge on Eric. In the meantime, of course, he’ll report what happened to Eric.”

“Of course,” I said.

“And you have more reason to want him dead than any of us.”

I smiled.

“Personal feelings don’t make for good politics, legal decisions, or business deals.”

Random lit two cigarettes and handed me one.

Staring downward through the smoke, I caught my first glimpse of that sea. Beneath the deep blue, almost night-time sky, with that golden sun hanging up there in it, the sea was so rich—thick as paint, textured like a piece of cloth, of royal blue, almost purple—that it troubled me to look upon it. I found myself speaking in a language that I hadn’t realized I knew. I was reciting “The Ballad of the Water-Crossers,” and Random listened until I had finished and asked me, ”It has often been said that you composed that. Is it true?”

“It’s been so long,” I told him, “that I don’t really remember any more.”

And as the cliff curved further and further to the left, and as we swung downward across its face, heading toward a wooded valley, more and more of the sea came within our range of vision.

“The Lighthouse of Cabra,” said Random, gesturing toward an enormous gray tower that rose from the waters, miles out to sea. “I had all but forgotten it.”

“And I,” I replied. “It is a very strange feeling, coming back,” and I realized then that we were no longer speaking English, but the language called Thari.

After almost half an hour, we reached the bottom. I kept coasting for as far as I could, then turned on the engine. At its sound, a flock of dark birds heat its way into the air from the shrubbery off to the left. Something gray and wolfish-looking broke from cover and dashed toward a nearby thicket; the deer it had been stalking, invisible till then, bounded away. We were in a lush valley, though not so thickly or massively wooded as the

Pages: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23

Leave a Reply 0

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *