The Hand Of Oberon
Chapter 8

    After visiting the kitchens, compiling an enormous meal and demolishing it, I headed for the stables, where I located a handsome young sorrel which had once belonged to Eric. I made friends with him in spite of this, and a short while later we were moving toward the trail down Kolvir which would take us to the camp of my Shadow forces. As I rode and digested, I tried to sort out the events and revelations of what, to me, had been the past few hours. If Amber had indeed arisen as the result of Dworkin's act of rebellion within the Courts of Chaos, then it followed that we were all of us related to the very forces which now threatened us. It was, of course, difficult to decide how far anything Dworkin said might now be trusted. Yet, the black road did run to the Courts of Chaos, apparently as a direct result of Brand's ritual, a thing which he had based on principles learned from Dworkin. Fortunately, for now, the parts of Dworkin's narrative which required the greatest credulity were those things which were not of any great moment, from an immediate, practical standpoint. Still, I had mixed feelings about being descended from a unicorn-
    "Corwin!"
    I drew rein. I opened my mind to the sending and the image of Ganelon appeared.
    "I am here," I said. "Where did you get hold of a set of Trumps? And learn how to use them?" 
    "I picked up a pack from the case in the library a while back. Thought it a good idea to have a way of getting in touch with you in a hurry. As for using them, I just did what you and the others seem to do-study the Trump, think about it, concentrate on getting in touch with the person."
    "I should have gotten you a pack long ago," I said. "It was an oversight on my part which I am glad you've remedied. Are you just testing them now, or did something come up?" 
    "Something," he said. "Where are you?"
    "As chance would have it, I am on my way down to see you." 
    "You are all right?" 
    "Yes."
    "Fine. Come ahead then. I'd rather not try bringing you through this thing, the way you people do. It is not that urgent. I will see you by and by." 
    "Yes."
    He broke the contact and I rustled the reins and continued on. For a moment, I had been irritated that he had not simply asked me for a deck. Then I recalled that I had been away for over a week, by Amber's time. He had probably been getting worried, didn't trust any of the others to do it for him. Perhaps rightly so.
    The descent went quickly, as did the balance of the journey to the camp. The horse-whose name, by the way, was Drum-seemed happy to be going somewhere and had a tendency to pull away at the least excuse. I gave him his head at one point to tire him a bit, and it was not too long afterward that I sighted the camp. I realized at about that time that I missed Star.
    I was the subject of stares and salutes as I rode into camp. A silence followed me and all activity ceased as I passed. I wondered whether they believed I had come to deliver a battle order.
    Ganelon emerged from his tent before I had dismounted.
    "Fast," he observed, clasping my hand as I came down. "Pretty horse, that."
    "Yes," I agreed, turning the reins over to his orderly. "What news have you?"
    "Well . . ." he said. "I've been talking to Benedict ..." 
    "Something stirring on the black road?"
    "No, no. Nothing like that. He came to see me after he returned from those friends of his-the Tecys-to tell me that Random was all right, that he was following a lead as to Martin's whereabouts. We got to talking of other matters after that, and finally he asked me to tell him everything I knew about Dara. Random had told him about her walking the Pattern, and he had decided then that too many people other than yourself were aware of her existence." 
    "So what did you tell him?" 
    "Everything."
    "Including the guesswork, the speculation after Tirna Nog'th?" 
    "Just so." 
    "I see. How did he take this?"
    "He seemed excited about it. Happy, I'd even say. Come talk with him yourself."
    I nodded and he turned toward his tent. He pushed back the flap and stepped aside. I entered.
    Benedict was seated on a low stool beside a foot locker atop which a map had been spread. He was tracing something on the map with the long metal finger of the glinting, skeletal hand attached to the deadly, silver-cabled, firepinned mechanical arm I had brought back from the city in the sky, the entire device now attached to the stump of his right arm a little below the point where the sleeve had been cut away from his brown shirt, a transformation which halted me with a momentary shudder, so much did he resemble the ghost I had encountered. His eyes rose to meet my own and he raised the hand in greeting, a casual, perfectly executed gesture, and he smiled the broadest smile I had ever seen crease his face.
    "Corwin!" he said, and then he rose and extended that hand.
    I had to force myself to clasp the device which had almost killed me. But Benedict looked more kindly disposed toward me than he had in a long while. I shook the new hand and its pressures were perfect. I tried to disregard its coldness and angularity and almost succeeded, in my amazement at the control he had acquired over it in such a brief time.
    "I owe you an apology," he said. "I have wronged you. I am very sorry."
    "It's all right," I said. "I understand."
    He clasped me for a moment, and my belief that things had apparently been set right between us was darkened only by the grip of those precise and deadly fingers on my shoulder.
    Ganelon chuckled and brought up another stool, which he set at the other end of the locker. My irritation at his having aired the subject I had not wanted mentioned, whatever the circumstances, was submerged by the sight of its effects. I could not remember having seen Benedict in better spirits; Ganelon was obviously pleased at having effected the resolution of our differences.
    I smiled myself and accepted a seat, unbuckling my sword belt and hanging Grayswandir on the tent pole. Ganelon produced three glasses and a bottle of wine. As he set the glasses before us and poured, he remarked, "To return the hospitality of your tent, that night, back in Avalon."
    Benedict took up his glass with but the faintest of clicks.
    "There is more ease in this tent," he said. "Is that not so, Corwin?"
    I nodded and raised my glass.
    "To that ease. May it always prevail."
    "I have had my first opportunity in a long while," he said, "to talk with Random at some length. He has changed quite a bit."
    "Yes," I agreed.
    "I am more inclined to trust him now than I was in days gone by. We had the time to talk after we left the Tecys."
    "Where were you headed?"
    "Some comments Martin had made to his host seemed to indicate that he was going to a place I knew of further off in Shadow-the block city of Heerat. We journeyed there and found this to be correct. He had passed that way."
    "I am not familiar with Heerat," I said.
    "A place of adobe and stone-a commercial center at the junction of several trade routes. There, Random found news which took him eastward and probably deeper into Shadow. We parted company at Heerat, for I did not want to be away from Amber overlong. Also, there was a personal matter I was anxious to pursue. He told me how he had seen Dara walk the Pattern on the day of the battle." 
    "That's right," I said. "She did. I was there, too." 
    He nodded.
    "As I said. Random had impressed me. I was inclined to believe he was telling the truth. If this were so, then it was possible that you were also. Granting this, I had to pursue the matter of the girl's allegations. You were not available, so I came to Ganelon-this was several days ago-and had him tell me everything he knew about Dara."
    I glanced at Ganelon, who inclined his head slightly.
    "So you now believe you have uncovered a new relative," I said, "a mendacious one, to be sure, and quite possibly an enemy-but a relative, nevertheless. What is your next move?" 
    He took a sip of wine.
    "I would like to believe in the relationship," he said. "The notion somehow pleases me. So I would like to establish it or negate it to a certainty. If it turns out that we are indeed related, then I would like to understand the motives behind her actions. And I would like to learn why she never made her existence known to me directly." 
    He put down his glass, raised his new hand and flexed the fingers. 
    "So I would like to begin," he continued, "by learning of those things you experienced in Tir-na Nog'th which apply to me and to Dara. I am also extremely curious about this hand, which behaves as if it were made for me. I have never heard of a physical object being obtained in the city in the sky." 
    He made a fist, unclenched it, rotated the wrist, extended the arm, raised it, lowered it gently to his knee. 
    "Random performed a very effective piece of surgery, don't you think?" he concluded.
    "Very," I agreed.
    "So, will you tell me the story?" 
    I nodded and took a sip of my wine.
    "It was in the palace in the sky that it occurred," I said. "The place was filled with inky, shifting shadows. I felt impelled to visit the throne room. I did this, and when the shadows moved aside, I saw you standing to the right of the throne, wearing that arm. When things cleared further, I saw Dara seated upon the throne. I advanced and touched her with Grayswandir, which made me visible to her. She declared me dead these several centuries and bade me return to my grave. When I demanded her lineage, she said she was descended of you and of the hellmaid Lintra."
    Benedict drew a deep breath but said nothing. I continued:
    "Time, she said, moved at such a different rate in the place of her birth, that several generations had passed there. She was the first of them possessed of regular human attributes. She again bade me depart. During this time, you had been studying Grayswandir. You struck then to remove her from danger, and we fought. My blade could reach you and your hand could reach me. That was all. Otherwise, it was a confrontation of ghosts. As the sun began to rise and the city to fade, you had me in a grip with that hand. I struck it free of the arm with Grayswandir and escaped. It was returned with me because it was still clasping my shoulder."
    "Curious," Benedict said. "I have known that place to render false prophecies-the fears and hidden desires of the visitor, rather than a true picture of what is to be. But then, it often reveals unknown truths as well. And as in most other things, it is difficult to separate the valid from the spurious. How did you read it?"
    "Benedict," I said, "I am inclined to believe the story of her origin. You have never seen her, but I have. She does resemble you in some ways. As for the rest . . . it is doubtless as you said-that which is left after the truth has been separated out."
    He nodded slowly, and I could tell that he was not convinced but did not want to push the matter. He knew as well as I did what the rest implied. If he were to pursue his claim to the throne and succeed in achieving it, it was possible that he might one day step aside in favor of his only descendant. 
    "What are you going to do?" I asked him.
    "Do?" he said. "What is Random now doing about Martin? I shall seek her, find her, have the story from her own lips, and then decide for myself. This will have to wait, however, until the matter of the black road is settled. That is another matter I wish to discuss with you."
    "Yes?"
    "If time moves so differently in their stronghold, they have had more than they need in which to mount another attack. I do not want to keep waiting to meet them in indecisive encounters. I am contemplating following the black road back to its source and attacking them on their home ground. I would like to do it with your concurrence."
    "Benedict," I said, "have you ever looked upon the Courts of Chaos?"
    He raised his head and stared at the blank wall of the tent.
    "Ages ago, when I was young," he said, "I hellrode as far as I might go, to the end of everything. There, beneath a divided sky, I looked upon an awesome abyss. I do not know if the place lies there or if the road runs that far, but I am prepared to take that way again, if such is the case." 
    "Such is the case," I said. 
    "How can you be certain?"
    "I am just returned from that land. A dark citadel hovers within it. The road goes to it." 
    "How difficult was the way?"
    "Here," I said, taking out the Trump and passing it to him. 
    "This was Dworkin's. I found it among his things. I only just tried it. It took me there. Time is already rapid at that point. I was attacked by a rider on a drifting roadway, of a sort not shown on the card. Trump contact is difficult there, perhaps because of the time differential. Gerard brought me back." 
    He studied the card.
    "It seems the place I saw that time," he said at length. "This solves our logistics problems. With one of us on either end of a Trump connection we can transport the troops right through, as we did that day from Kolvir to Gamath." 
    I nodded.
    "That is one of the reasons I showed it to you, to indicate my good faith. There may be another way, involving less risk than running our forces into the unknown. I want you to hold off on this venture until I have explored my way further."
    "I will have to hold off in any event, to obtain some intelligence concerning that place. We do not even know whether your automatic weapons will function there, do we?" 
    "No, I did not have one along to test."
    He pursed his lips.
    "You really should have thought to take one and try it."
    "The circumstances of my departure did not permit this." 
    "Circumstances?"
    "Another time. It is not relevant here. You spoke of following the black road to its source. . ."
    "Yes?"
    "That is not its true source. Its real source lies in the true Amber, in the defect in the primal Pattern."
    "Yes, I understand that. Both Random and Ganelon have described your journey to the place of the true Pattern, and the damage you discovered there. I see the analogy, the possible connection-"
    "Do you recall my flight from Avalon, and your pursuit?" 
    In answer, he only smiled faintly.
    "There was a point where we crossed the black road," I said. "Do you recall it?"
    He narrowed his eyes.
    "Yes," he said. "You cut a path through it. The world had returned to normal at that point. I had forgotten."
    "It was an effect of the Pattern upon it," I said, "one which I believe can be employed upon a much larger scale." 
    "How much larger?" 
    "To wipe out the entire thing." 
    He leaned back and studied my face. 
    "Then why are you not about it?" 
    "There are a few preliminaries I must undertake." 
    "How much time will they involve?"
    "Not too much. Possibly as little as a few days. Perhaps a few weeks." 
    "Why didn't you mention all of this sooner?" 
    "I only learned how to go about it recently." 
    "How do you go about it?" 
    "Basically, it amounts to repairing the Pattern." 
    "All right," he said. "Say you succeed. The enemy will still be out there." 
    He gestured toward Garnath and the black road. 
    "Someone gave them passage once."
    "The enemy has always been out there," I said. "And it will be up to us to see that they are not given passage again-by dealing properly with those who provided it in the first place." 
    "I go along with you on that," he said, "but that is not what I meant. They require a lesson, Corwin. I want to teach them a proper respect for Amber, such a respect that even if the way is opened again they will fear to use it. That is what I meant. It is necessary." 
    "You do not know what it would be like to carry a battle to that place, Benedict. It is-literally-indescribable." 
    He smiled and stood.
    "Then I guess I had best go see for myself," he said. "I will keep this card for a time, if you don't mind." 
    "I don't mind."
    "Good. Then you be on with your business about the Pattern, Corwin, and I will be about my own. This will take me some time, too. I must go give my commanders orders concerning my absence now. Let us agree that neither of us commence anything of a final nature without checking first with the other." 
    "Agreed," I said. 
    We finished our wine.
    "I will be under way myself, very soon now," I said. "So, good luck."
    "To you, also." He smiled again. "Things are better," he said, and he clasped my shoulder as he passed to the entrance. We followed him outside.
    "Bring Benedict's horse," Ganelon directed the orderly who stood beneath a nearby tree; and turning, he offered Benedict his hand. 
    "I, too, want to wish you luck," he said.
    Benedict nodded and shook his hand. 
    "Thank you, Ganelon. For many things." 
    Benedict withdrew his Trumps.
    "I can bring Gerard up to date," he said, "before my horse arrives." 
    He riffled through them, withdrew one, studied it.
    "How do you go about repairing the Pattern?" Ganelon asked me.
    "I have to get hold of the Jewel of Judgment again," I said. "With it, I can reinscribe the damaged area."
    "Is this dangerous?"
    "Yes."
    "Where is the Jewel?"
    "Back on the shadow Earth, where I left it."
    "Why did you abandon it?"
    "I feared that it was killing me."
    He contorted his features into a near-impossible grimace.
    "I don't like the sound of this, Corwin. There must be another way."
    "If I knew a better way, I'd take it."
    "Supposing you just followed Benedict's plan and took them all on? You said yourself that he could raise infinite legions in Shadow. You also said that he is the best man there is in the field."
    "Yet the damage would remain in the Pattern, and something else would come to fill it. Always. The enemy of the moment is not as important as our own inner weakness. If this is not mended we are already defeated, though no foreign conqueror stands within our walls." 
    He turned away.
    "I cannot argue with you. You know your own realm," he said. "But I still feel you may be making a grave mistake by risking yourself on what may prove unnecessary at a time when you are very much needed."
    I chuckled, for it was Vialle's word and I had not wanted to call it my own when she had said it. 
    "It is my duty," I told him. 
    He did not reply.
    Benedict, a dozen paces away, had apparently reached Gerard, for he would mutter something, then pause and listen. We stood there, waiting for him to conclude his conversation so that we could see him off.
    ". . . Yes, he is here now," I heard him say. "No, I doubt that very much. But-"
    Benedict glanced at me several times and shook his head.
    "No, I do not think so," he said. Then, "All right, come ahead."
    He extended his new hand, and Gerard stepped into being, clasping it. Gerard turned his head, saw me, and immediately moved in my direction.
    He ran his eyes up and down and back and forth across my entire person, as if searching for something.
    "What is the matter?" I said.
    "Brand," he replied. "He is no longer in his quarters. At least, most of him isn't. He left some blood behind. The place is also broken up enough to show there had been a fight." 
    I glanced down at my shirt front and trousers.
    "And you are looking for bloodstains? As you can see, these are the same things I had on earlier. They may be dirty and wrinkled, but that's all."
    "That does not really prove anything," he said.
    "It was your idea to look. Not mine. What makes you think I-"
    "You were the last one to see him," he said.
    "Except for the person be had a fight with-if he really did."
    "What do you mean by that?"
    "You know his temper, his moods. We had a small argument. He might have started breaking things up after I left, maybe cut himself, gotten disgusted, trumped out for a change of scene-Wait! His rug! Was there any blood on that small, fancy rug before his door?"
    "I am not sure-no, I don't think so. Why?" 
    "Circumstantial evidence that he did it himself. He was very fond of that rug. He avoided messing it." 
    "I don't buy it," Gerard said, "and Caine's death still looks peculiar-and Benedict's servants, who could have found out you wanted gunpowder. Now Brand-" 
    "This could well be another attempt to frame me," I said, "and Benedict and I have come to better terms." 
    He turned toward Benedict, who had not moved from where he stood a dozen paces away, regarding us without expression, listening.
    "Has he explained away those deaths?" Gerard asked him.
    "Not directly," Benedict answered, "but much of the rest of the story now stands in a better light. So much so, that I am inclined to believe all of it."
    Gerard shook his head and glared down at me again.
    "Still unsettled," he said. "What were you and Brand arguing about?"
    "Gerard," I said, "that is our business, till Brand and I decide otherwise."
    "I dragged him back to life and watched over him, Corwin. I didn't do it just to see him killed in a squabble."
    "Use your brains," I told him. "Whose idea was it to search for him the way that we did? To bring him back?"
    "You wanted something from him," he said. "You finally got it. Then he became an impediment."
    "No. But even if that were the case, do you think I would be so damned obvious about it? If he has been killed, then it is on the same order as Caine's death-an attempt to frame me."
    "You used the obviousness excuse with Caine, too. It seems to me it could be a kind of subtlety-a thing you are good at."
    "We have been through this before, Gerard. . ." 
    ". . . And you know what I told you then." 
    "It would be difficult to have forgotten."
    He reached forward and seized my right shoulder. I immediately drove my left hand into his stomach and pulled away. It occurred to me then that perhaps I should have told him what Brand and I had been talking about. But I didn't like the way he had asked me.
    He came at me again. I side-stepped and caught him with a light left near the right eye. I kept jabbing after that, mainly to keep his head back. I was in no real shape to fight him again, and Grayswandir was back in the tent. I had no other weapon with me.
    I kept circling him. My side hurt if I kicked with my left leg. I caught him once on the thigh with my right, but I was slow and off-balance and could not really follow through. I continued to jab.
    Finally, he blocked my left and managed to drop his hand on my biceps. I should have pulled away then, but he was open. I stepped in with a heavy right to his stomach, all of my strength behind it. It bent him forward with a gasp, but his grip tightened on my arm. He blocked my attempted uppercut with his left, continuing its forward motion until the heel of his hand slammed against my chest, at the same time jerking my left arm backward and to the side with such force that I was thrown to the ground. If he came down on me, that was it.
    He dropped to one knee and reached for my throat.