The Hand Of Oberon
Chapter 12

    Late afternoon on a mountain: the westering sun shone full on the rocks to my left, tailored long shadows for those to the right; it filtered through the foilage about my tomb; it countered to some extent the chill winds of Kolvir. I released Random's hand and turned to regard the man who sat on the bench before the mausoleum.
    It was the face of the youth on the pierced Trump, lines now drawn above the mouth, brow heavier, a general weariness in eye movement and set of jaw which had not been apparent on the card.
    So I knew it before Random said, "This is my son Martin."
    Martin rose as I approached him, clasped my hand, said, "Uncle Corwin." His expression changed but slightly as he said it. He scrutinized me.
    He was several inches taller than Random, but of the same light build. His chin and cheekbones had the same general cut to them, his hair was of a similar texture.
    I smiled.
    "You have been away a long while," I said. "So was I." 
    He nodded.
    "But I have never really been in Amber proper," he said. "I grew up in Rebma-and other places."
    "Then let me welcome you, nephew. You come at an interesting time. Random must have told you about it."
    "Yes," he said. "That is why I asked to meet you here, rather than there." 
    I glanced at Random.
    "The last uncle he met was Brand," Random said, "and under very nasty circumstances. Do you blame him?"
    "Hardly. I ran into him myself a bit earlier. Can't say it was the most rewarding encounter." 
    "Ran into him?" said Random. "You've lost me."
    "He has left Amber and he has the Jewel of Judgment with him. If I had known earlier what I know now, he would still be in the tower. He is our man, and he is very dangerous." 
    Random nodded.
    "I know," he said. "Martin confirmed all our suspicions on the stabbing-and it was Brand. But what is this about the Jewel?"
    "He beat me to the place where I had left it on the shadow Earth. He has to walk the Pattern with it and project himself through it, though, to attune it to his use. I just stopped him from doing that on the primal Pattern in the real Amber. He escaped, however. I was just over the hill with Gerard, sending a squad of guards through to Fiona in that place, to prevent his returning and trying again. Our own Pattern and that in Rebma are also under guard because of him." 
    "Why does he want so badly to attune it? So he can raise a few storms? Hell, he could take a walk in Shadow and make all the weather he wants." 
    "A person attuned to the Jewel could use it to erase the Pattern." 
    "Oh? What happens then?" 
    "The world as we know it comes to an end." 
    "Oh," Random said again. Then, "How the hell do you know?"
    "It is a long story and I haven't the time, but I had it from Dworkin and I believe that much of what he said."
    "He's still around?"
    "Later," I said.
    "Okay. But Brand would have to be mad to do something like that."
    I nodded.
    "I believe he thinks he could then cast a new Pattern, redesign the universe with himself as chief executive." 
    "Could this be done?"
    "Theoretically, perhaps. But even Dworkin has certain doubts that the feat could be repeated effectively now. The combination of factors was unique. . . . Yes, I believe Brand is somewhat mad. Looking back over the years, recalling his personality changes, his cycles of moods, it seems there was something of a schizoid pattern there. I do not know whether the deal he made with the enemy pushed him over the edge or not. It does not really matter. I wish he were back in his tower. I wish Gerard were a worse physician." 
    "Do you know who stabbed him?" 
    "Fiona. You can get the story from her, though." 
    He leaned against my epitaph and shook his head.
    "Brand," he said. "Damn him. Any one of us might have killed him on a number of occasions-in the old days. Just when he would get you mad enough, though, he would change. After a while, you would get to thinking he wasn't such a bad guy after all. Too bad he didn't push one of us just a little harder at the wrong time . . ." 
    "Then I take it he is now fair game?" said Martin.
    I looked at him. The muscles in his jaws had tightened and his eyes narrowed. For a moment, all of our faces fled across his, like a riffling of the family cards. All of our egoism, hatred, envy, pride, and abuse seemed to flow by in that instant-and he had not even set foot in Amber yet. Something snapped inside me and I reached out and seized him by the shoulders.
    "You have good reason to hate him," I said, "and the answer to your question is 'yes.' The hunting season is open. I see no way to deal with him other than to destroy him. I hated him myself for so long as he remained an abstraction. But-now-it is different. Yes, he must be killed. But do not let that hatred be your baptism into our company. There has been too much of it among us. I look at your face-I don't know. . . . I am sorry, Martin. Too much is going on right now. You are young. I have seen more things. Some of them bother me-differently. That's all." 
    I released my grip and stepped back. 
    "Tell me about yourself," I said.
    "I was afraid of Amber for a long while," he began, "and I guess that I still am. Ever since he attacked me, I have been wondering whether Brand might catch up with me again. I have been looking over my shoulder for years. I have been afraid of all of you, I suppose. I knew most of you as pictures on cards-with bad reputations attached. I told Random-Dad-that I did not want to meet you all at once, and he suggested that I see you first. Neither of us realized at the time that you would be particularly interested in certain things that I know. After I mentioned them though. Dad said I had to see you as soon as possible. He has been telling me all about what has been going on and-you see, I know something about it."
    "I had a feeling that you might-when a certain name cropped up not too long ago."
    "The Tecys?" Random said.
    "The same."
    "It is difficult, deciding where to start . . ." Martin said.
    "I know that you grew up in Rebma, walked the Pattern, and then used your power over Shadow to visit Benedict in Avalon," I said. "Benedict told you more about Amber and Shadow, taught you the use of the Trumps, coached you in weaponry. Later, you departed to walk in Shadow by yourself. And I know what Brand did to you. That is the sum of my knowledge."
    He nodded, stared off into the west.
    "After I left Benedict's, I traveled for years in Shadow," he said. "Those were the happiest times I have known. Adventure, excitement, new things to see, to do. . . . In the back of my mind, I always had it that one day when I was smarter and tougher-more experienced-I would journey to Amber and meet my other relatives. Then Brand caught up with me. I was camped on a little hillside, just resting from a long ride and taking my lunch, on my way to visit my friends the Tecys. Brand contacted me then. I had reached Benedict with his Trump, when he was teaching me how to use them, and other times when I had traveled. He had even transported me through occasionally, so I knew what it felt like, knew what it was all about. This felt the same way, and for a moment, I thought that somehow it was Benedict calling me. But no. It was Brand-I recognized him from his picture in the deck. He was standing in the midst of what seemed to be the Pattern. I was curious. I did not know how he had reached me. So far as I knew, there was no Trump for me. He talked for a minute-I forget what he said-and when everything was firm and clear, he-he stabbed me. I pushed him and pulled away then. He held the contact somehow. It was hard for me to break it-and when I did, he tried to reach me again. But I was able to block him. Benedict had taught me that. He tried again, several times, but I kept blocking. Finally, he stopped. I was near to the Tecys. I managed to get onto my horse and make it to their place. I thought I was going to die, because I had never been hurt that badly before. But after a time, I began to recover. Then I grew afraid once again, afraid that Brand would find me and finish what he had begun." 
    "Why didn't you contact Benedict," I asked him, "and tell him what had happened, tell him of your fears?"
    "I thought of that," he said, "and I also thought of the possibility that Brand believed he had succeeded, that I was indeed dead. I did not know what sort of power struggle was going on in Amber, but I decided that the attempt on my life was probably part of such a thing. Benedict had told me enough about the family that this was one of the first things to come to mind. So I decided that perhaps it would be better to remain dead. I left the Tecys before I was completely recovered and rode off to lose myself in Shadow.
    "I happened upon a strange thing then," he continued, "a thing I had never before encountered, but which now seemed virtually omnipresent: In nearly all of the shadows through which I passed, there was a peculiar black road existing in some form or other. I did not understand it, but since it was the only thing I had come across which seemed to traverse Shadow itself, my curiosity was aroused. I resolved to follow it and learn more about it. It was dangerous. I learned very quickly not to tread the thing. Strange shapes seemed to travel it at night. Natural creatures which ventured upon it sickened and died. So I was careful. I went no nearer than was necessary to keep it in sight. I followed it through many places. I quickly learned that everywhere it ran there was death, desolation, or trouble nearby. I did not know what to make of it.
    "I was still weak from my wound," he went on, "and I made the mistake of pressing myself, of riding too far, too fast, in a day's time. That evening, I fell ill and I lay shivering in my blanket through the night and much of the next day. I was into and out of delirium during this time, so I do not know exactly when she appeared. She seemed like part of my dream much of the while. A young girl. Pretty. She took care of me while I recovered. Her name was Dara. We talked interminably. It was very pleasant. Having someone to talk with like that . . . I must have told her my whole life story. Then she told me something of herself. She was not a native of the area in which I had collapsed. She said that she had traveled there through Shadow. She could not yet walk through it as we do, though she felt she could learn to do this, as she claimed descent from the House of Amber through Benedict. In fact, she wanted very badly to learn how it was done. Her means of travel then was the black road itself. She was immune to its noxious effects, she said, because she was also related to the dwellers at its farther end, in the Courts of Chaos. She wanted to learn our ways though, so I did my best to instruct her in those things that I did know. I told her of the Pattern, even sketched it for her. I showed her my Trumps-Benedict had given me a deck-to show her the appearance of her other relatives. She was particularly interested in yours."
    "I begin to understand," I said. "Go on."
    "She told me that Amber, in the fullness of its corruption and presumption, had upset a kind of metaphysical balance between itself and the Courts of Chaos. Her people now had the job of redressing the matter by laying waste to Amber. Their own place is not a shadow of Amber, but a solid entity in its own right. In the meantime, all of the intervening shadows are suffering because of the black road. My knowledge of Amber being what it was, I could only listen. At first, I accepted everything that she said. Brand, to me, certainly fit her description of evil in Amber. But when I mentioned him, she said no. He was some sort of hero back where she hied from. She was uncertain as to the particulars, but it did not trouble her all that much. It was then that I realized how oversure she seemed about everything-there was a ring of the fanatic when she talked. Almost unwillingly, I found myself trying to defend Amber. I thought of Llewella and of Benedict-and of Gerard, whom I had met a few times. She was eager to learn of Benedict, I discovered. That proved the soft spot in her armor. Here I could speak with some knowledge, and here she was willing to believe the good things I had to say. So, I do not know what the ultimate effect of all this talk was, except that she seemed somewhat less sure of herself near the end. . ."
    "The end?" I said. "What do you mean? How long was she with you?"
    "Almost a week," he replied. "She had said she would take care of me until I was recovered, and she did. Actually, she remained several days longer. She said that was just to be sure, but I think it was really that she wanted to continue our conversations. Finally though, she said that she had to be moving on. I asked her to stay with me, but she said no. I offered to go with her, but she said no to that, too. She must have realized that I planned to follow her then, because she slipped away during the night. I could not ride the black road, and I had no idea what shadow she would travel to next on her way to Amber. When I awoke in the morning and realized she had gone, I thought for a time of visiting Amber myself. But I was still afraid. Perhaps some of the things she had said had reinforced my own fears. Whatever, I decided to remain in Shadow. And so I traveled on, seeing things, trying to learn things-until Random found me and told me he wanted me to come home. He brought me here first though, to meet you, because he wanted you to hear my story before any of the others. He said that you knew Dara, that you wanted to learn more about her. I hope that I have helped."
    "Yes," I said. "Thank you."
    "I understand that she did finally walk the Pattern."
    "Yes, she succeeded in that."
    "And afterward declared herself an enemy of Amber."
    "That, too."
    "I hope," he said, "that she comes to no harm from all this. She was kind to me."
    "She seems quite able to take care of herself," I said. "But . . . yes, she is a likable girl. I cannot promise you anything concerning her safety, because I still know so little about her, so little of her part in everything that is going on. Yet, what you have told me has been helpful. It makes her someone I would still like to grant doubt's benefit, as far as I can."
    He smiled.
    "I am glad to hear that."
    I shrugged.
    "What are you going to do now?" I asked.
    "I am taking him to see Vialle," Random said, "and then to meet the others, as time and opportunity permit. Unless, of course, something new has developed and you need me now."
    "There have been new developments," I said, "but I do not really need you now. I had better bring you up to date, though. I still have a little time."
    As I filled Random in on events since his departure, I thought about Martin. He was still an unknown quantity so far as I was concerned. His story might be perfectly true. In fact, I felt that it was. On the other hand, I had a feeling that it was not complete, that he was intentionally leaving something out. Maybe something harmless. Then again, maybe not. He had no real reason to love us. Quite the contrary. And Random could be bringing home a Trojan Horse. Probably though, it was nothing like that. It is just that I never trust anyone if there is an alternative available.
    Still, nothing that I was telling Random could really be used against us, and I strongly doubted that Martin could do us much damage if that was his intention. No, more likely he was being as cagey as the rest of us, and for pretty much the same reasons: fear and self preservation. On a sudden inspiration, I asked him, "Did you ever run into Dara again after that?" 
    He flushed.
    "No," he said, too quickly. 
    "Just that time. That's all."
    "I see," I said, and Random was too good a poker player not to have noticed; so I had just bought us a piece of instant insurance at the small price of putting a father on guard against his long-lost son.
    I quickly shifted our talk back to Brand. It was while we were comparing notes on psychopathology that I felt the tiny tingle and the sense of presence which heralds a Trump contact. I raised my hand and turned aside.
    In a moment the contact was clear and Ganelon and I regarded one another.
    "Corwin," he said, "I decided it was time to check. By now, you have the Jewel, Brand has the Jewel, or you are both still looking. Which one is it?" 
    "Brand has the Jewel," I said.
    "More's the pity," he said. "Tell me about it."
    So I did.
    "Then Gerard had the story right," he said. 
    "He's already told you all this?"
    "Not in such detail," Ganelon replied, "and I wanted to be sure I was getting it straight. I just finished speaking with him." 
    He glanced upward. 
    "It would seem you had best be moving then, if my memories of moonrise serve me right." 
    I nodded.
    "Yes, I will be heading for the stairway shortly. It is not all that far from here."
    "Good. Now here is what you must be ready to do-"
    "I know what I have to do," I said. "I have to get up to Tir-na Nog'th before Brand does and block his way to the Pattern. Failing that, I have to chase him through it again." 
    "That is not the way to go about it," he said. 
    "You have a better idea?" 
    "Yes, I do. You have your Trumps with you?" 
    "Yes."
    "Good. First, you would not be able to get up there in time to block his way to the Pattern-" 
    "Why not?"
    "You have to make the ascension, then you have to walk to the palace and make your way down to the Pattern. That takes time, even in Tir-na Nog'th-especially in Tir-na Nog'th, where time tends to play tricks anyway. For all you know, you may have a hidden death wish slowing you down. I don't know. Whatever the case, he would have commenced walking the Pattern by the time you arrived. It may well be that he would be too far into it for you to reach him this time."
    "He will probably be tired. That should slow him some."
    "No. Put yourself in his place. If you were Brand, wouldn't you have headed for some shadow where the time flow was different? Instead of an afternoon, he could well have taken several days to rest up for this evening's ordeal. It is safest to assume that he will be in good shape."
    "You are right," I said. "I can't count on it. Okay. An alternative I had entertained but would rather not try if it could be avoided, would be to kill him at a distance. Take along a crossbow or one of our rifles and simply shoot him in the midst of the Pattern. The thing that bothers me about it is the effect of our blood on the Pattern. It may be that it is only the primal Pattern that suffers from it, but I don't know."
    "That's right. You do not know," he said. "Also, I would not want you to rely on normal weapons up there. That is a peculiar place. You said yourself it is like a strange piece of Shadow drifting in the sky. While you figured how to make a rifle fire in Amber, the same rules may not apply up there."
    "It is a risk," I acknowledged.
    "As for the crossbow-supposing a sudden gust of wind deflected the bolt each time you shot one?"
    "I am afraid I do not follow you."
    "The Jewel. He walked it part way through the primal Pattern, and he has had some time to experiment with it since then. Do you think it possible that he is partly attuned to it now?"
    "I do not know. I am not at all that sure how the process works."
    "I just wanted to point out that if it does work that way, he may be able to use it to defend himself. The Jewel may even have other properties you are not aware of. So what I am saying is that I would not want you to count on being able to kill him at a distance. And I would not even want you to rely on being able to pull the trick you did with the Jewel again-not if he may have gained some measure of control over it."
    "You do make things look a little bleaker than I had them." 
    "But possibly more realistic," he said. 
    "Conceded. Go on. You said you had a plan." 
    "That is correct. My thinking is that Brand must not be allowed to reach the Pattern at all, that once he sets foot upon it the probability of disaster goes way up." 
    "And you do not think I can get there in time to block him?"
    "Not if he can really transport himself around almost instantaneously while you have to take a long walk. My bet is that he is just waiting for moonrise, and as soon as the city takes form he will be inside, right next to the Pattern." 
    "I see the point, but not the answer."
    "The answer is that you are not going to set foot in Tir-na Nog'th tonight." 
    "Hold on a minute!"
    "Hold on, hell! You imported a master strategist, you'd better listen to what he has to say." 
    "Okay, I am listening."
    "You have agreed that you probably cannot reach the place in time. But someone else can." 
    "Who and how?"
    "All right. I have been in touch with Benedict. He has returned. At this moment, he is in Amber, down in the chamber of the Pattern. By now, he should have finished walking it and be standing there at its center, waiting. You proceed to the foot of the stairs to the sky-city. There you await the rising of the moon. As soon as Tir-na Nog'th takes form, you will contact Benedict via his Trump. You tell him that all is ready, and he will use the power of the Pattern in Amber to transport himself to the place of the Pattern in Tir-na Nog'th. No matter how fast Brand travels, he cannot gain much on that."
    "I see the advantages," I said. "That is the fastest way to get a man up there and Benedict is certainly a good man. He should have no trouble dealing with Brand."
    "Do you really think Brand will make no other preparations?" Ganelon said. 
    "From everything I've heard about the man, he's smart even if he is daft. He just may anticipate something like this."
    "Possibly. Any idea what he might do?"
    He made a sweeping gesture with one hand, slapped his neck and smiled.
    "A bug," he said. "Pardon me. Pesky little things."
    "You still think-"
    "I think you had better remain in contact with Benedict the entire time he is up there, that is what I think. If Brand gets the upper hand, you may need to pull Benedict back immediately to save his life." 
    "Of course. But then-"
    "But then we would have lost a round. Admitted. But not the game. Even with the Jewel fully attuned, he would have to get to the primal Pattern to do his real damage with it-and you have that under guard."
    "Yes," I said. "You seem to have everything figured. You surprised me, moving so fast."
    "I've had a lot of time on my hands recently, which can be a bad thing unless you use it for thinking. So I did. What I think now is that you had best move fast. The day isn't getting any longer." 
    "Agreed," I said. "Thanks for the good counsel." 
    "Save your thanks till we see what comes of it," he said, and then he broke the contact.
    "That one sounded important," Random said. "What's up?"
    "Appropriate question," I answered, "but I am all out of time now. You will have to wait till morning for the story." 
    "Is there anything I can do to help?"
    "As a matter of fact," I said, "yes, if you'll either ride double or go back to Amber on a Trump. I need Star." 
    "Sure," Random said. "No trouble. Is that all?" 
    "Yes. Haste is all." 
    We moved toward the horses.
    I patted Star a few times and then mounted.
    "We'll see you in Amber," Random said. "Good luck."
    "In Amber," I said. "Thanks."
    I turned and headed toward the place of the stairway, treading my tomb's lengthening shadow eastward.