«For me,» he answered.
«What do you mean?»
There followed a grating noise and the view was partly occluded by the edge of a large boulder.
«What are you doing?»
«Moving this stone into a position where I can block the opening quickly,» he replied, «and stick in a few wedges afterward.»
«Why?»
«There are sufficient tiny openings for air so that you shan't suffocate,» he went on.
«Great. Why am I here, anyway?»
«Let's not get existential just now,» he said. «This isn't a philosophy seminar.»
«Luke! Damn it! What's going on?»
«It should be obvious that I'm making you a prisoner,» he said. «The blue crystal, by the way, will block any Trump sendings and negate your magical abilities that rely on things beyond the walls. I need you alive and fangless for now, in a place where I can get to you in a hurry.»
I studied the opening and the nearby walls.
«Don't try it,» he said. «I have the advantage of position.»
«Don't you think you owe me an explanation?»
He stared at me for a moment, then nodded.
«I have to go back,» he said finally, «and try to get control of the Ghostwheel. Any suggestions?»
I laughed. «It's not on the best of terms with me at the moment. I'm afraid I can't help you.»
He nodded again. «I'll just have to see what I can do. God, what a weapon! If I can't swing it myself I'll have to come back and pick your brains for some ideas. You be thinking about it, okay?»
«I'll be thinking about a lot of things, Luke. You're not going to like some of them.»
«You're not in a position to do much.»
«Not yet,» I said.
He caught hold of the boulder, began to move it.
«Luke!» I cried.
He paused, studied me, his expression changing to one I had never seen before.
«That's not really my name,» he stated, after a moment.
«What, then?»
«I am your cousin Rinaldo,» he said slowly. «I killed Caine, and I came close with Bleys. I missed with the bomb at the funeral, though. Someone spotted me. I will destroy the House of Amber with or without your Ghostwheel - but it would make things a lot easier if I had that kind of power.»
«What's your bitch, Luke?… Rinaldo? Why the vendetta?»
«I went after Caine first,» he continued, «because he's the one who actually killed my father.»
«I - didn't know.» I stared at the flash of the Phoenix clasp upon his breast. «I didn't know that Brand had a son,» I finally said.
«You do now, old buddy. That's another reason why I can't let you go, and why I have to keep you in a place like this. Don't want you warning the others.»
«You're not going to be able to pull this off.»
He was silent for several seconds, then he shrugged.
«Win or lose, I have to try.»
«Why April 30?» I said suddenly. «Tell me that.»
«It was the day I got the news of my dad's death.»
He drew upon the boulder and it slid into the hole, blocking it fully. There followed some brief hammerings.
«Luke!»
He did not answer. I could see his shadow through the translucent stone. After a while it straightened, then dropped from sight. I heard his boots strike the ground outside. «Rinaldo!»
He did not answer and I heard his retreating footsteps.
I count the days by the lightening and darkening of the blue crystal walls. It has been over a month since my imprisonment, though I do not know how slowly or rapidly time flows here in relation to other shadows. I have paced every hall and chamber of this great cave, but I have found no way out. My Trumps do not work here, not even the Trumps of Doom. My magic is useless to me, limited as it is by walls the color of Luke's ring. I begin to feel that I might enjoy even the escape of temporary insanity, but my reason refuses to surrender to it, there being too many puzzles to trouble me: Dan Martinez, Meg Devlin, my Lady of the Lake… Why? And why did he spend all of that time in my company, Luke, Rinaldo, my enemy? I have to find a way to warn the others. If he succeeds in turning Ghostwheel upon them then Brand's dream - my nightmare of vengeance - will be realized. I see now that I have made many mistakes… Forgive me, Julia… I will pace the measure of my confinement yet again. Somewhere there must be a gap in the icy blue logic that surrounds me, against which I hurl my mind, my cries, my bitter laughter. Up this hall, down the tunnel. The blue is everywhere. The shadows will not bear me away, for there are no shadows here. I am Merlin the pent, son of Corwin the lost, and my dream of light has been turned against me. I stalk my prison like my own ghost. I cannot let it end this way. Perhaps the next tunnel, or the next…
Blood of Amber
1986
Reflections in a Crystal Cave
My life had been relatively peaceful for eight years - not counting April thirtieths, when someone invariably tried to kill me. Outside of that, my academic career with its concentration on computer science went well enough and my four years employment at Grand Design proved a rewarding experience, letting me use what I'd learned in a situation I liked while I labored on a project of my own on the side. I had a good friend in Luke Raynard, who worked for the same company, in sales. I sailed my little boat, I jogged regularly.
It all fell apart this past April 30, just when I thought things were about to come together. My pet project, Ghostwheel, was built; I'd quit my job, packed my gear and was ready to move on to greener shadows. I'd stayed in town this long only because that morbidly fascinating day was near, and this time I intended to discover who was behind the attempts on my life and why.
At breakfast that morning Luke appeared with a message from my former girlfriend, Julia. Her note said that she wanted to see me again. So I stopped by her place, where I found her dead, apparently killed by the same doglike beast which then attacked me. I succeeded in destroying the creature. A quick search of the apartment before I fled the scene fumed up a slim packet of strange playing cards, which I took along with me.
They were too much like the magical Tarots of Amber and Chaos for a sorcerer such as myself not to be interested in them.
Yes. I am a sorcerer. I am Merlin, son of Corwin of Amber and Dara of the Courts of Chaos, known to local friends and acquaintances as Merle Corey: bright, charming, witty, athletic… Go read Castiglione and Lord Byron for particulars, as I'm modest, aloof and reticent, as well.
The cards proved to be genuine magical objects, which seemed appropriate once I learned that Julia had been keeping company with an occultist named Victor Melman after we had broken up. A visit to this gentleman's studio resulted in his attempting to kill me in a ritual fashion. I was able to free myself from the constraints of the ceremony and question him somewhat, before local conditions and my enthusiasm resulted in his death. So much for rituals.
