Authors: Roger Zelazny
She shook her head vigorously.
“No,” she stated.
“I will not-I cannot take that responsibility at this time.”
“Why not?”
She hesitated.
“And please don’t say again that you cannot tell me;’ I went on.
“Find a way to tell me as much as you can.”
She spoke slowly then, as if choosing her words very carefully.
“Because it is more important for me to watch you than Luke.
There is still danger for you which I do not understand, even though it no longer seems to be proceeding from him.
Guarding you against this unknown peril is of higher priority than keeping an eye on him.
Therefore, I cannot remain here.
If you are returning to Amber, so am I”
“I appreciate your concern,” I said, “but I will not have you dogging my footsteps.”
“Neither of us has a choice.”
“Supposing I simply trump out of here to some distant shadow?”
“I will be obliged to follow you.”
“In this form, or another?”
She looked away.
She poked at her food.
“You’ve already admitted that you can be other persons.
You locate me in some arcane fashion, then you take possession of someone in my vicinity.”
She took a drink of coffee.
“Perhaps something prevents you from saying it;’ I continued, “but that’s the case.
I know it.”
She nodded once, curtly, and resumed eating.
“Supposing I did trump out right now;’ I said, “and you followed after in your peculiar fashion.” I thought back to my telephone conversations with Meg Devlin and Mrs.Hansen.
“Then the real Vinta Bayle would wake up in her own body with a gap in her memory, right?”
“Yes,” she answered softly.
“And that would leave Luke here in the company of a woman who would be happy to destroy him if she had any inkling who he really is.”
She smiled faintly.
“Just so,” she said.
We ate in silence for a time.
She had attempted to foreclose all my choices, to force me to trump back to Amber and take Luke with me.
I do not like being manipulated or coerced.
My reflexive attempt to do something other than what is desired of me then feels forced also.
I refilled our coffee cups when I had finished eating.
I regarded a collection of dog portraits that hung on the wall across from me.
I sipped and savored.
I did not speak because I could think of nothing further to say.
Finally, she did.
“So what are you going to do?” she asked me.
I finished my coffee and rose.
“I am going to take Luke his stick,” I said.
I pushed my chair back into place and headed for the corner of the room where I had leaned the stick.
“And then?” she said.
“What will you do?”
I glanced back at her as I hefted the staff.
She sat very erect, her hands palms down on the table.
The Nemesis look overlay her features once again, and I could almost feel electricity in the air.
“Whatever I must,” I replied, and I headed for the door.
I increased my pace as soon as I was out of sight.
When I hit the stairs and saw that she was not following, I took the steps two at a time.
On the way up, I withdrew my cards and located the proper one.
When I entered the room I saw that Luke was resting, his back against the bed’s pillows.
His breakfast tray was on the smaller chair, beside the bed.
I dropped the latch on the door.
“What’s the matter, man? We under attack or something?” Luke asked.
“Start getting up,” I said.
I picked up his weapon then and crossed to the bed.
I gave him a hand sitting up, thrust the staff and the blade at him.
“My hand has been forced,” I said, “and I’m not about to turn you over to Random.”
“That’s a comfort,” he observed.
“But we have to clear out-now.”
“That’s all right by me.”
He leaned on the staff, got slowly to his feet.
I heard a noise in the hall, but it was already too late.
I’d raised the card and was concentrating.
There came a pounding on the door.
“You’re up to something and I think it’s the wrong thing,” Vinta called out.
I did not reply.
The vision was already coming clear.
The doorframe splintered from the force of a tremendous kick, and the latch was torn loose.
There was a look of apprehension on Luke’s face as I reached out and took hold of his arm.
“Come on,” I said.
Vinta burst into the room as I led Luke forward, her eyes flashing, her hands extended, reaching.
Her cry of “Fool!” seemed to change into a wail as she was washed by the spectrum, rippled and faded.
We stood in a patch of grass, and Luke let out a deep breath he had been holding.
“You believe in cutting things close, buddy-boy,” he remarked, and then he looked around and recognized the place.
He smiled crookedly.
“What do you know;’ he said.
“A crystal cave.”
“From my own experience,” I said, “the time flow here should be about what you were asking for.”
He nodded and we began moving slowly toward the high blue hill.
“Still plenty of rations,” I added, “and the sleeping bag should be where I left it.”
“It will serve,” he acknowledged.
He halted, panting, before we reached the foot.
I saw his gaze drift toward a number of strewn bones off to our left.
It would have been months since the pair who had removed the boulder had fallen there, long enough for scavengers to have done a thorough job.
Luke shrugged, advanced a little, leaned against blue stone.
He lowered himself slowly into a sitting position.
“Going to have to wait before I can climb,” he said, “even with you helping.”
“Sure,” I said.
“We can finish our conversation.
As I recall, you were going to make me an offer I couldn’t refuse.
I was to bring you to a place like this, where you could recover fast vis-a-vis the time flow at the Keep.
You, in turn, had a piece of information vital to the security of Amber.”
“Right;’ he agreed, “and you didn’t hear the rest of my story either.
They go together.”
I hunkered across from him.
“You told me that your mother had fled to the Keep, apparently gotten into trouble there and called to you for help.”
“Yes,” he acknowledged.
“So I dropped the business with Ghostwheel and tried to help her.
I got in touch with Dalt, and he agreed to come and attack the Keep.”
“It’s always good to know a band of mercenaries you can get hold of in a hurry,” I said.
He gave me a quick, strange look but I was able to maintain an innocent expression.
“So we led them through Shadow and we attacked the place,” he said then.
“It had to be us that you saw when you were there.”
I nodded slowly.
“It looked as if you made it over the wall.
What went wrong?”
“I still don’t know,” he said.
“We were doing all right.
Their defense was crumbling and we were pushing right along, when suddenly Dalt turned on me.
We’d been separated for a time; then he appeared again and attacked me.
At first I thought he’d made a mistake-we were all grimy and bloody-and I shouted to him that it was me.
But he just kept coming.
That’s how he was able to do a job like this on me.
For a while I didn’t want to strike back because I thought it was a misunderstanding and he’d realize his mistake in a few seconds.”
“Do you think he sold you out? Or that it was something he’d been planning for a long time? Some grudge?”
“I don’t like to think that.”
“Magic, then?”
“Maybe.
I don’t know.”
A peculiar thought occurred to me.
“Did he know you’d killed Caine?” I asked.
“No, I make it a point never to tell anybody everything I’m about.”
“You wouldn’t kid me, would you?”
He laughed, moved as if to clap me on the shoulder, winced and thought better of it.
“Why do you ask?” he said then.
“I don’t know.
Just curious.”
“Sure,” he said.
Then, “What say you give me a hand up and inside, so I can see what kind of supplies you’ve left me?”
“Why?” I got to my feet and helped him to his.
We moved around to the right to the slope of easiest ascent, and I guided him slowly to the top.
Once we’d achieved the summit he leaned on his staff and stared down into the opening.
“No really easy way down in,” he said, “for me.
At first I was thinking you could roll up a barrel from the larder, and I could get down to it and then down to the floor.
But now I look at it, it’s an even bigger drop than I remembered.
I’d tear something open, sure.”
“Mm-hm,” I said.
“Hang on.
I’ve got an idea.”
I fumed away from him and climbed back down.
Then I made my way along the base of the blue rise to my right until I had rounded two shiny shoulders and was completely out of Luke’s line of sight.
I did not care to use the Logrus in his presence if I did not have to.
I did not wish for him to see how I went about things, and I did not want to give him any idea as to what I could or could not do.
I’m not that comfortable letting people know too much about me, either.
The Logrus appeared at my summons, and I reached into it, extended through it.
My desire was framed, became the aim.
My sending extending sought the thought.
Far, far.
.
.
.
I kept extending for the damnedest long time.
We really had to be out in the Shadow boonies.
.
.
.
Contact.
I did not jerk, but rather exerted a slow and steady pressure.
I felt it move toward me across the shadows.
“Hey, Merle! Everything okay?” I heard Luke call.
“Yeah,” I answered, and I did not elaborate.
Closer, closer.
.
.
.
There!
I staggered when it arrived, because it came to me too near to one end.
The far end bounced on the ground.
So I moved to the middle and took a new grip.
I hefted it and carried it back.
I set it against a steep area of the rise a bit in advance of Luke’s position and I mounted quickly.
I began drawing it up behind me then.
“Okay, where’d you get the ladder?” he asked.
“Found it,” I said.
“Looks like wet paint on the side there.”
“Maybe someone lost it just recently.”
I began lowering it into the opening.
Several feet protruded after it reached the bottom.
I adjusted it for stability,
“I’ll start down first,” I said, “and stay right under you.”
“Take my stick and my blade down first, will you?”
“Sure.’.
I did that thing.
By the time I climbed back he had caught hold and gotten onto it, had begun his descent.
“You’ll have to teach me that trick one of these days,” he said, breathing heavily.
“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” I answered.
He descended slowly, pausing to rest at each rung, and he was flushed and panting when he reached the bottom.
He slumped to the floor immediately, pressing his right palm against his lower rib cage.
After a time, he inched backward a bit and rested against the wall.
“You okay?” I asked.
He nodded.
“Will be,” he said, “in a few minutes.
Being stabbed takes a lot out of you.”
“Want a blanket?”