KNIGHT OF SHADOWS (33 page)

I entered.
 
It was big and all decked out for the ceremony, with a great variety of pennons on the walls and flowers all over the place.
 
The only other inhabitant was a muffled woman up near the front who appeared to be praying.
 
I moved off to the left into a somewhat darker section.

“Luke,” I addressed his Trump.
 
“All clear.
 
Do you read me?”

I felt his presence before I caught the image.
 
“Okay,” he said.
 
“Bring me through,” and we clasped hands, and he was there.

He clapped me on the shoulders.

“Well, now, let me look at you,” he said.
 
“Wonder whatever became of my letter sweater?”

“I think you gave it to Gail.”

“I think you may be right.”

“Brought you a present,” I said, tossing back my cloak and fumbling at the side of my sword belt.
 
“Here.
 
I turned up your father’s sword.”

“You’re kidding.”

He took it into his hands, examined the sheath, turned it over many times.
 
Then he drew it partway, and it hissed again and sparks danced along its tracery and a bit of smoke drifted upward from it.

“It really is!” he said.
 
“Werewindle, the Daysword-brother to the Nightblade, Grayswandir!”

“What’s that?” I said.
 
“I didn’t know there was any connection.”

“I’d have to think hard to remember the full story, but they go back a long way.
 
Thank you.”

He turned and took several paces, slapping the weapon against his thigh as he walked.
 
Abruptly he returned.

“I’ve been had,” he said.
 
“That woman has done it again, and I am peeved to the extreme.
 
I don’t know how to handle this.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“My mother,” he explained.
 
“She’s done it again.
 
Just when I thought I’d taken the reins and was riding my own course, she’s come along and messed up my life.”

“How’d she do that?”

“She hired Dalt and his boys to take over here.”

“Yeah, we sort of figured that out.
 
By the way, what happened to Arkans?”

“Oh, he’s okay.
 
I’ve got him under arrest, of course.
 
But he’s in good quarters and he can have anything he wants.
 
I wouldn’t hurt him.
 
I always kind of liked the guy “

“So what’s the problem? You win.
 
You’ve got your own kingdom now.”

“Hell,” he said, then glanced furtively toward the sanctum.
 
“I think I was conned, but I’m not exactly sure.
 
See, I never wanted this job.
 
Dalt told me we were taking over for Mom.
 
I was coming in with him to establish order, claim the place for the family again, then welcome her back with a lot of pomp and crap.
 
I figured once she had her throne back, she’d be off my case for good.
 
I’d hit it out of here for more congenial turf, and she’d have a whole kingdom to occupy her attention.
 
Nothing was said about me getting stuck with this lousy job.”

I shook my head.

“I don’t understand at all,” I said.
 
“You got it for her.
 
Why not just turn it over to her and do as you planned?”

He gave a humorless laugh.

“Arkans they liked,” he said.
 
“Me they like.
 
Mom they’re not so fond of.
 
Nobody seems that enthusiastic about having her back.
 
In fact, there were strong indications that if she tried it, there would indeed be a coup-coup.”

“I suppose you could still step aside and give it to Arkans.”

Luke punched the stone wall.

“I don’t know whether she’d be madder at me or at herself for having paid Daft as much as she did to throw Arkans out.
 
But she’d tell me it’s my duty to do it, and I don’t know-maybe it is.
 
What do you think?”

“That’s a hard one to answer, Luke.
 
Who do you think would do a better job, you or Arkans?”

“I honestly don’t know.
 
He’s had a lot of experience in government, but I did grow up here, and I do know how the place is run and how to get things done.
 
The only thing I’m sure of is that either of us would be better at it than Mom.”

I folded my arms, and I thought hard.

“I can’t make this decision for you,” I said.
 
“But tell me, what would you most like to do?”

He chuckled.

“You know I’ve always been a salesman.
 
If I were going to stick around and do something for Kashfa.
 
I’d rather represent her industries abroad, which would be sort of undignified for a monarch.
 
Probably what I’d be best at, though.
 
I don’t know.”

“It’s a problem and a half, Luke.
 
I don’t want the responsibility of telling you which way to go.”

“If I’d known it was going to come to this, I’d have smeared Dalt back in Arden.”

“You really think you could take him?”

“Believe it,” he said.

“Well, that doesn’t solve your present problem.”

“True.
 
I’ve a strong feeling I may have to go through with this.”

The woman up front glanced our way several times.
 
I guess we were talking kind of loud for the surroundings.

“Too bad there are no other good candidates,” I said, lowering my voice.

“This must seem like pretty small beer to someone from Amber.”

“Hell, it’s your home.
 
You’ve got a right to take it seriously.
 
I’m just sorry it’s doing such a job on you.”

“Yeah, most problems seem to start at home, don’t they? Sometimes I just feel like taking a walk and not coming back.”

“What would happen if you did?”

“Either Mom would restore herself to the throne with Dalt’s gang to back her up, which would require a mess of executions of people I can think of who’d be against it, or she’d say the game isn’t worth the candle and settle for the Keep.
 
If she decided to enjoy her retirement, then the coalition which backed him in the first place would probably spring Arkans and continue things from where they’d had to leave off “

“Which course of action seems most likely to you?” I said.

“She’d go for it and there’d be a civil war.
 
Win or lose, it would mess up the country and doubtless keep us out of the Golden Circle this time around, too.
 
Speaking of which-“

“I don’t know,” I said quickly.
 
“I’m not empowered to talk Golden Circle Treaty with you.”

“I’d kind of guessed that,” Luke said, “and that wasn’t what I wanted to ask.
 
I was just curious whether anyone back in Amber might have said, ‘They just blew it,’ or ‘Maybe we’ll give them another crack at it a little farther down the road,’ or ‘We’ll still deal, but they can forget the Eregnor guarantees.”

He gave me an artificial grin, and I returned it.

“You can forget Eregnor,” I said.

“Figured that,” he said.
 
“What about the rest?”

“I get the impression it’s ‘Let’s wait and see what happens.”

“Guessed that much, too.
 
Give me a good report, even if they don’t ask, okay? By the way, I don’t suppose your presence here is technically official?”

“Personal,” I said, “from a diplomatic standpoint.”

The lady up front rose to her feet.
 
Luke sighed.

“Wish I could find my way back to Alice’s restaurant.
 
Maybe the Hatter would see something we’re missing,” he said.
 
Then: “Hey! Where’d he come from? Looks just like you but-“

He was staring past me, and I could already feel the disturbance.
 
I didn’t even bother to summon the Logrus, though, because I felt ready for anything.

I turned, smiling.

“Are you ready to die, brother?” Jurt asked.
 
He had either managed to regrow his eye or was wearing an artificial one, and he now had sufficient hair that I could no longer tell about the ear.
 
His little finger was partly regrown also.

“No, but I’m ready to kill,” I said.
 
“I’m glad you happened by.”

He bowed, mockingly.
 
There was a faint glow about him.
 
I could feel the power that flowed through and around his person.

“Have you been back to the Keep for your final treatment?” I inquired.

“I don’t believe that will be necessary,” he said.
 
“I am more than adequate for any task I’ve set myself, now I’ve control of these forces.”

“This is Jurt?” Luke asked.

“Yes,” I replied.
 
“This is Jurt.”

Jurt cast a quick glance Luke’s way.
 
I could feel him focusing on the blade.

“Is that a power object you bear?” he inquired.
 
“Let me see it!”

He extended his hand, and the weapon jerked within Luke’s grip but did not come loose.

“No, thanks,” Luke said, and Jurt vanished.
 
A moment later he appeared behind Luke, and his arm went around Luke’s neck in a choke.
 
Luke gripped it with one hand, bowed, and turned and threw him over his shoulder.

Jurt landed on his back before him, and Luke made no move to follow up on his action.

“Draw that blade,” Jurt said, “and let me see it.” Then he shook himself like a dog and rose to his feet.
 
“Well?” he said.

“I see no need for a weapon in dealing with the likes of you,” Luke told him.

Jurt raised both hands above his head and formed them into fists.
 
They met, remained in contact for a moment.
 
Then he drew them apart, his right hand somehow drawing a long blade out of his left.

“You ought to take that show on the road,” Luke said, “now:”

“Draw it!” Jurt said.

“I don’t like the idea of fighting in a church,” Luke told him.
 
“You want to step outside?”

“Very funny,” Jurt replied.
 
“I know you’ve got an army out there.
 
No thanks.
 
I’ll even take a certain pleasure in bloodying a Unicorn shrine.”

“You ought to talk to Dalt,” Luke said.
 
“He gets his kicks in weird ways, too.
 
Can I get you a horse-or a chicken? Maybe some white mice and aluminum foil?”

Jurt lunged.
 
Luke stepped backward and drew his father’s blade.
 
It hissed and crackled and smoked as he parried lightly and drove it forward.
 
There was a sudden fear on Jurt’s face as he threw himself backward, batting at it, stumbling.
 
As he fell, Luke kicked him in the stomach and Jurt’s blade went flying.

“That’s Werewindle!” Jurt gasped.
 
“How did you come by the sword of Brand?”

“Brand was my father,” Luke said.

A momentary look of respect passed over Jurt’s face.

“I didn’t know...” he muttered, and then he vanished.

I waited.
 
I extended magical feelers all over the place.
 
But there was just Luke, myself and the lady, who had halted some distance from us, watching, as if afraid to come any nearer on her way out.

Then Luke collapsed.
 
Jurt was standing behind him, having just stuck him on the back of the neck with his elbow.
 
He reached then for Luke’s wrist, as if to seize it and wrench the blade from his hand.

“It must be mine!” he said as I reached through the ring and struck him with a bolt of pure energy which I thought would rupture most of his organs and leave him a bleeding mass of jelly.
 
Only for an instant had I considered using anything less than lethal force.
 
I could see that sooner or later one of us was going to kill the other, and I’d decided to get it over with before he got lucky.

But he was already lucky.
 
His bath in the Fount must have toughened him even more than I’d thought.
 
He spun around three times, as if he’d been clipped by a truck, and was slammed up against the wall.
 
He sagged.
 
He slipped to the floor.
 
Blood came out of his mouth.
 
He looked as if he were about to pass out.
 
Then his eyes focused and his hands extended.