The Road to Amber (26 page)

“Goodness! I don’t know whether it’s still working,” she said, opening the door more widely. “Come in out of the rain.”

Beangern, as always, was clad in brown leather. He wore a hunting knife on his belt, a pistol on his right hip, and he carried a shotgun in his hand.

“Why the shotgun?” she asked.

“It slows him down,” Beangern said.

With that, he pushed in his prisoner—a tall, slim, dark-eyed, dark-haired fellow clad in black. He was handcuffed and he wore leg irons as well.

“Evening, Miss Alice,” he said. “It’s been a long time.”

“Indeed it has, Lucer,” she responded.

He smiled, raised his hands, and the right one incandesced.

“You cut that out, Lucer,” Beangern said to him, and the fire died.

“Just an old flame for an old flame,” Lucer said.

“You always were a flirt,” she responded, returning his smile. “Will you gentlemen have some tea?”

“Of course,” they both replied, “on a night like this. We’ll stand, though, if you don’t mind. Hate to soil your furniture.”

“Nonsense. I insist you sit,” she said.

“He is good at guarding people when they’re chained and he’s standing by them with a shotgun,” Lucer said.

“That is not the reason,” Beangern stated.

She shrugged and returned to the kitchen. Shortly, she came back with a tray bearing two cups of tea and some biscuits. Both men were now seated.

She served them, then seated herself.

“Same as usual?” she asked.

“Pretty much,” Lucer replied. “I escaped prison, came over to here, got a job, and the bounty man came after me.”

“Same as usual,” Beangern said. “He escaped from prison, injuring a lot of people on his way out, came here and organized a secret society dedicated to revolution and commenced buying weapons and training the members in their use. I caught him just in time.”

“So what happens to him now?” Alice asked.

“I take him back,” said Beangern.

“You seem the only one able to bring him back when something like this happens,” Alice said.

“True. He’s quite dangerous, but then so am I,” Beangern said.

“This is all a lie,” Lucer said. “But I haven’t yet seen the truth make any difference.”

“I’d listen,” Alice said.

“I’m sorry,” said Beangern, “but he hasn’t the time to tell you all of his lies. We must be departing soon.”

“He’s like a samurai,” Lucer said. “Terribly well-trained and true to his code—whatever it is. If you tried to detain him, he might do you harm.”

“I would not,” said Beangern. “Alice is an old friend.”

“Very old,” Alice said.

“Why do you keep escaping if it always comes to this?” she asked Lucer.

“It will not. This is the last time,” Lucer replied.

“Oh, why is that?”

“Because the cycle is at an end.”

“I don’t understand,” she said.

“Of course not. But I have eaten the Whitcomb Pie and know that it is so.”

“Whatever you say,” she said, pouring more tea for them all. “My part in your business ended long ago.”

Lucer laughed.

“Callooh! Callooh!” he said. “The story never ends.”

Beangern laughed, too.

“It will end very soon,” he said.

“In a way, callay! In a way,” the other said.

“So long as Beangern holds his fief, the world runs well,” Beangern said.

“Well, it runs,” Lucer acknowledged, “with the lunatics in charge, as you left them.”

Beangern chuckled.

“I find this vastly amusing,” he said. “And surely Alice remembers.”

“How could I not?” she said. “There were times when it terrified me.”

“And there were times when it showed you wonders such as few of your world have ever seen,” Lucer added.

“I can’t deny it. But they don’t balance.”

“What of it? It has changed considerably since your visit—and tonight it shall change again.”

“From what to what?” she asked.

“It must be seen,” Beangern replied.

“At my age it no longer matters.”

“On the contrary. It means a great deal that you be present for the enactment and return. There was a reason you were tempted to visit us so long ago, Alice.”

Lucer snorted and his chains rattled. Beangern sipped his tea.

“You were brought in to be viewed by your prospective husband,” he said.

“Oh, and who might that have been?”

“The real ruler of the place.”

“I’m a little old for that part now. If someone like that wanted me, he should have done something about it a long time ago.”

“Events,” said Beangern, “rose to spoil his plans.”

“What events?”

“A small war.”

She sipped her tea.

“So you must accompany us on this special occasion.”

“Sorry. The story is ended now,” she said. “Over. Done with. You’ve come too late.”

“It is never too late,” Beangern said, “while I live. And I will not die.”

He ate a biscuit. Lucer sipped his tea.

“Will I?” Beangern suddenly asked.

“Whom are you asking?” said Lucer.

“You.”

“You fear this night,” the other replied, “that it holds your death.”

“Well, does it?”

“Even if I knew I wouldn’t tell you.”

Beangern began to raise his shotgun, glanced at Alice, and.lowered it again. He ate another biscuit.

“Quite good,” he remarked.

“There is still the enactment,” Lucer stated.

“Hush now.”

“Of course. It matters not.”

“What is this enactment?” Alice asked.

“It is a ritual in which the fallen star Beangern must participate. Else will he be swept away.”

“Nonsense!” Beangern roared, spilling tea on his jacket. “I perform the rite for old times’ sake. Nothing more.”

“What rite?” Alice inquired.

“The ritual of return to the heavens from which he came,” said Lucer. “On Yuleki’s Day. His place has been vacant too long.”

“You make him sound like a god,” Alice said.

“He is, like one of the god kings of old in your world.”

“I thought that the Red King and Queen—or the White,” Alice began.

“There were many lunatics in Wonderland,” Lucer responded. “Beangern sent many of them into strong exile or imprisonment and rules now himself.”

“Is that true?” Alice asked.

“The man exaggerates,” Beangern replied. “The Red King and Queen still rule. I occasionally assist.”

“And what is the part you would have me play in all this?” asked Alice.

“A small one,” Beangern replied.

“He lies,” said Lucer.

“What then?” asked Alice.

“Witness,” Beangern replied.

“I am an old lady you have confused considerably,” Alice said. “I’ll have no more of this rabbitholing and mirroring. Let us finish our tea and I’ll see you off.”

“Of course,” Beangern stated. “Come, Lucer. Drink up, and we’ll be on our way.”

The men finished their tea and Lucer took another biscuit. Both men rose then, and Beangern looked toward Alice. “Would you conduct us to the conveyance now?” he said.

“You mean the mirror?”

“Yes.”

“Come this way,” Alice said.

Rising, she led them to a flight of stairs and took them up it.

Pushing back a hatch and throwing a light switch, she illuminated a low-wattage bulb, which revealed a dusty attic filled with the detritus of decades. At the room’s far end hung a mirror, its reflective surface facing the wall.

Alice halted and suddenly asked, “Why do you need it? You obviously got here without it.”

“The other way is strenuous,” Beangern replied, “and subduing this fellow takes a lot out of one. The other reason is convenience.”

“Convenience?” Alice said.

“Yes,” Beangern replied. “On the night of Yuleki in the place where the kinyon grass grows, and the Ulb who ate a Jabberwock goes forbling forth to vie, with Kibling and Dars Dadisdada, ‘tis soon enough to die, Ryanda! Step through, Lucer!”

He nudged the other man with the shotgun barrel. Lucer approached the mirror and vanished.

“I’m not going back to that place,” Alice said.

Beangern laughed and stepped through the mirror. Shortly afterwards, Alice felt herself drawn toward it. She tried to resist but the effect was too strong. Step after resisting step, she was forced to advance until she stood before it and, after all these years, entered.

She stood for several moments within the reversed image of her attic. Then she turned, seeking the mirror, but could not find it. She knew then that she must depart the attic. Turning, she crossed the room, switched off the light, and descended the stair.

She made her way to the back door, opened it, and stepped outside.

It was no longer her garden. It had become a glade in the midst of sunset, two roads emerging from the trees to cross at its center. Beangern stood on the crossroad, shotgun still a-smoke. Lucer lay panting at his feet.

“Tried to escape,” Beangern said. “I expected it.”

“Is he going to be—all right?” Alice asked, moving to the man’s side and kneeling, her nursing training returning in a great rush through her mind.

“Of course,” Beangern replied. “He’s healing already. Practically impervious. And stronger than an ox. Stronger than me, even. Lacks my combat training, though.”

“How do you know these things about him?” she asked.

“He used to be my servant, my man-at-arms. We came here together.”

“From where?” she said.

He pointed skyward. “Up there. I am of the fallen star they could not return.”

“Why not?” she asked.

“Some metaphysical crime for which the others would never release him, should he come into their power,” Lucer moaned.

“Nonsense. ‘Twas a mere difference of opinion we had,” Beangern stated.

Lucer rose slowly to his feet, hand pressed against his side. “That does smart,” he remarked.

“Tell her that you lied,” Beangern stated.

“I will not. ‘Tis true.”

“I’ll blast you again.”

“Go ahead. Waste our time. Callooh.”

“Callay. She’ll see for herself this day.”

“This night, I say. Away. Let’s away.”

“By the bye, I say. A little rite to light our way.”

With that, he commenced a series of arcane hand movements. The air seemed to brighten about him as he did. Finally, he stopped and indicated that the journey was to continue.

“What was that all about?” Alice asked.

“Dars Dadisdada and Rottery Khan will be riding out tonight,” Beangern said.

“…And the Choipery Girl will circle the world on wings like a bat,” said Lucer. “The Challkers Rose will rise from the sea and bloom, and the foongli lights dance on bay and slope. A reminiscence of your Halloween, and a ritual protection against it.”

“It would seem that things have changed,” she said.

“Just the names,” said Beangern.

“More than just the names,” said Lucer.

“I would like to be returned to my home now,” said Alice.

“I am afraid that that is impossible,” said Beangern. “You are needed here.”

“Why?”

“This will become apparent later.”

“I may choose to withhold my cooperation.”

“I think not,” said Beangern, raising a small whistle which he wore on a chain about his neck. He put it to his lips and blew upon it.

A minute passed.

“I think I am going to go back,” Alice said.

“Impossible,” Beangern replied, and in the distance a low rumble rose up.

She listened for a moment, then asked, “What is that sound?”

“Motorcycles,” he replied. “Members of the royal guard—the Twittikins—are on their way.”

“That was an awfully quick response,” she remarked as their shapes came into view on the road ahead.

“Actually, I whistled for them before I left. This one is a new request, for later. You must recall that one can run and get nowhere, or stay in place and make progress—or phone to speak with yourself yesterday.”

“Well, somewhat.”

“It has its fine points. That’s all.”

The bikers approached, drew near. When they halted before them, Beangern approached their leader, a big-bellied man with arms like tree trunks. He wore blue jeans, a black leather vest, and hordes of tattoos. His scarred face broke into a smile.

“Someone you want done for?” he asked Beangern.

“Just guarded,” Beangern said. “Miss Alice here.”

“Why, she’s just an old bag. Why’s she need guardin’?”

“Watch your language, Nik. She’s a friend of mine. But we can’t let her go until tomorrow. So hang around and keep an eye on her. She’s got an odd element of probability calls.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Funny things used to happen around her. They still could, in this place.”

The Twittikins advanced to be near her. Above them, amid the branches of a nearby tree, she thought for a moment that she spied the form of a grinning cat.

“Let’s be movin’ along now,” Beangern said.

“Where to?” asked Lucer.

“Why, the palace, of course. To get a fresh judgment pronounced against you.”

“Yes, for they do get stale, I know,” Lucer said, “like moldy bread.”

Beangern laughed. “We’ll find you some fresh words to chew over,” he said, “in a fresh cell, where mold and oxidation enter not.”

“No, for tonight is a very special night, demon star.”

“Lucer, you wrong me.”

They began walking.

“If that way be north today, we’ll be to the palace shortly after sunset,” Lucer remarked.

Alice moved nearer.

“There is something about him,” she said, “that seems even more abnormal than usual.”

“Oh, he’s certifiable material, all right,” Lucer said, “like most of us. But he’s grown too dangerous to buck. And his powers are at a peak come Yuleki.”

“And your own?” she asked. “You do seem to have a few of those yourself.”

“True,” he said. “One never knows how things will fallout in this place. Callooh!”

“Callay!” she responded, smiling. “Are we both crazy, Lucer?”

“Maybe a little,” he replied.

“What about letting the prisoners talk?” Nik hollered.

“Let them,” Beangern said. “It doesn’t matter.”

They trekked into the twilight, away from the setting sun.

“Things are a little different this time,” Lucer told Alice. “I think they want everything legal and proper.”