captains till the sun stands in high heaven.”
“Very well,” he replied, without hesitation. “They appreciate their positions, I'm sure.”
I turned away then and ordered that the ship he turned about and headed back in the direction of the main body of vessels.
If I tried to flee, Caine would pursue me through the Shadows and destroy the ships, one by one. Gunpowder did not ignite on the real Earth, but if we moved very far away, it too would he employed to our undoing. Caine would find some, for it was probable, were I to depart, the fleet could not sail the Shadow seas without me, and would be left as sitting ducks upon the real waters here. So the crews were either dead or prisoners, whatever I did.
Random had been right.
I drew forth Bleys' Trump and concentrated till it moved.
“Yes?” he said, and his voice was agitated. I could almost hear the sounds of battle about him.
“We're in trouble,” I said. “Seventy-three ships made it through, and Caine has called on us to surrender by noon.”
“Damn his eyes!” said Bleys. “I haven't made it as far as you. We're in the middle of a fight now. An enormous cavalry force is cutting us to pieces. So I can't counsel you fairly. I've got my own problems. Do as you see fit. They're coming again!” And the contact was broken.
I drew forth Gerard's, and sought contact.
When we spoke it seemed I could see a shore line behind him. I seemed to recognize it. If my guess was correct, he was in southern waters. I don't like to remember our conversation. I asked him if he could help me against Caine, and if he would.
“I only agreed to let you by,” he said. “That is why I withdrew to the south. I couldn't reach you in time if I wanted to. I did not agree to help you kill our brother.”
And before I could reply, he was gone. He was right, of course. He'd agreed to give me an opportunity, not to fight my battle for me.
What then did that leave me?
I lit a cigarette. I paced the deck. It was no longer morning. The mists had long vanished and the sun warmed my shoulders. Soon it would be noon. Perhaps two hours.
I fingered my cards, weighed the deck in my hand. I could try a contest of wills through them, with either Eric or Caine. There was that power present, and perhaps even others of which I knew nothing. They had been so designed, at the command of Oberon, by the hand of the mad artist Dworkin Barimen, that wild-eyed hunchback who had been a sorcerer, priest, or psychiatrist-the stories conflicted on this point-from some distant Shadow where Dad had saved him from a disastrous fate he had brought upon himseIf. The details were unknown, but he had always been a bit off his rocker since that time. Still, he was a great artist, and it was undeniable that he possessed some strange power. He had vanished ages ago, after creating the cards and tracing the Pattern in Amber. We had often speculated about him, but no one seemed to know his whereabouts. Perhaps Dad had done him in, to keep his secrets secret.
Caine would be ready for such an attack, and I probably couldn't break him, though I might be able to hold him. Even then, though, his captains had doubtless been given the order to attack.
Eric would surely be ready for anything, but if there was nothing else left to do, I might as well try it. I had nothing to lose but my soul.
Then there was the card for Amber itself. I could take myself there with it and try an assassination, but I figured the odds were about a million to one against my living to effect it.
I was willing to die fighting, but it was senseless for all these men to go down with me. Perhaps my blood was tainted, despite my power over the Pattern. A true prince of Amber should have had no such qualms. I decided then that my centuries on the Shadow Earth had changed me, softened me perhaps, had done something to me which made me unlike my brothers.
I decided to surrender the fleet and then transport myself to Amber and challenge Eric to a final duel. He'd be foolish to accept. But what the hell-I had nothing else left to do.
I turned to make my wishes known to my officers, and the power fell upon me, and I was stricken speechless.
I felt the contact and I finally managed to mutter “Who?” through clenched teeth. There was no reply, but a twisting thing bored slowly within my mind and I wrestled with it there.
After a time when he saw that I could not be broken without a long struggle, I heard Eric's voice upon the wind:
“How goes the world with thee, brother?” he inquired.
“Poorly,” I said or thought, and he chuckled, though his voice seemed strained by the efforts of our striving.
“Too bad,” be told me. “Had you come back and supported me, I would have done well by you. Now, of course, it is too late. Now, I will only rejoice when I have broken both you and Bleys.”
I did not reply at once, but fought him with all the power I possessed. He withdrew slightly before it, but he succeeded in holding me where I stood.
If either of us dared divert his attention for an Instant, we could come into physical contact or one of us get the upper hand on the mental plane. I could see him now, clearly, in his chambers in the palace. Whichever of us made such a move, though, he would fall beneath the other's control.
So we glared at each other and struggled internally. Well, he had solved one of my problems, by attacking me first. He held my Trump in his left hand and his brows were furrowed. I sought for an edge, but couldn't find one. People were talking to me but I couldn't hear their words as I stood there backed against the rail.
What time was it?
All sense of time had departed since the beginning of the struggle. Could two hours have passed? Was that it? I couldn't be sure.
“I feel your troubled thought,” said Eric. “Yes, I am coordinated with Caine. He contacted me after your parley. I can hold you thus while your fleet is demolished around you and sent down to Rebma to rot. The fishes will eat your men.”
“Wait,” I said. “They are guiltless. Bleys and I have misled them, and they think we are in the right. Their deaths would serve no purpose. I was preparing to surrender the fleet.”
“Then you should not have taken so long,” he replied, “for now it is too late. I cannot call Caine to countermand my orders, without releasing you, and the moment I release you I will fall beneath your mental domination or suffer physical assault. Our minds are too proximate.”
“Supposing I give you my word that I won't do this thing?”
“Any man would be forsworn to gain a kingdom,” said Eric.
“Can't you read the thought? Can't you feel it within my mind? I'll keep my word!”
“I feel there is a strange compassion for these men you have duped, and I know not what may have caused such a bond, but no. You know it yourself. Even if you are sincere at this moment-as you well may be-the temptation will be too great the instant the opportunity occurs. You know it yourself. I can't risk it.”
And I knew it. Amber burned too strongly In the blood of us.
“Your swordsmanship has increased remarkably,” he commented. “I see that your exile has done you some good in that respect. You are closer to being my equal now than anyone save Benedict, who may well be dead.”
“Don't flatter yourself,” I said. “I know I can take you now. In fact-”
“Don't bother. I won't duel with you at this late date,” and he smiled, reading my thought, which burned all too clearly.
“I more than half wish you had stood by me,” he said. “I could have used you more than any of the others. Julian I spit upon. Caine is a coward. Gerard is strong, but stupid.”
I decided to put in the only good word I might.
“Listen,” I said. “I conned Random into coming here with me. He wasn't hot on the idea. I think he would have supported you, had you asked him.”
“That bastard!” he said. “I wouldn't trust him to empty chamber pots. One day I'd find a piranha in mine. No thanks. I might have pardoned him, save for your present recommendation. You'd like me to clasp him to my bosom
