“Who are you? What do you want?” he asked.
If I was that unrecognizable in my emaciated, hairy condition, I decided that I might as well maintain my anonymity.
“I am a traveler from the south and I was shipwrecked recently,” I said. “I clung to a piece of wood for many days and was finally washed ashore here. I slept on the beach all morning. It was only recently that I recovered sufficient strength to walk to your lighthouse.”
He moved forward and took my arm. He threw his other arm around my shoulders.
“Come in, come in then,” he said. “Lean on me. Take it easy. Come this way.”
He led me to his quarters, which were extraordinarily messy, being strewn with many old books, charts, maps, and pieces of nautical equipment. He wasn't any too steady himself, so I didn't lean too hard, just enough to maintain the impression of weakness I had tried to convey as I'd leaned against his doorframe.
He led me to a daybed, suggested I lie down, and left to secure the door and fetch me something to eat.
I removed my boots, but my feet were so flithy that I put them back on again. If I'd been drifting about very long, I wouldn't be dirty. I didn't want to give away my story, so I drew a blanket that was there over me and leaned hack, really resting.
Jopin returned shortly with a pitcher of water, a pitcher of beer, a great slice of beef, and half a loaf of bread upon a square wooden tray. He swept clear the top of a small table, which he then kicked into a position beside the couch. Then he set the tray down on it and bade me eat and drink.
I did. I stuffed myself. I gluffed myself. I ate everything in sight. I emptied both pitchers.
Then I felt tremendously tired. Jopin nodded when he saw it come over me, and he told me to go to sleep. Before I knew it, I had.
When I awakened, it was night time and I felt considerably better than I had in many weeks. I got to my feet and retraced my earlier route and departed the building. It was chilly out there, but the sky was crystal clear and there seemed to be a million stars. The lens at the top of the tower blazed at my back, then went dark, blazed, then went dark. The water was cold, but I just had to cleanse myself. I bathed and washed my clothing and wrung it out. I must have spent an hour doing that. Then I went back to the lighthouse, hung my clothes over the back of an old chair to dry out, crawled beneath the blanket, slept again.
In the morning, when I awoke, Jopin was already up. He prepared me a hearty breakfast, and I treated it the same way as I had the dinner of the previous evening. Then I borrowed a razor, a mirror, and a pair of scissors and gave myself a shave and a sort of haircut. I bathed again afterward, and when I donned my salty, stiff, clean garments I felt almost human again.
Jopin stared at me when I returned from the sea and said, “You look kinda familiar, fella,” and I shrugged.
“Now tell me ahout your wreck.”
So I did. Out of whole cloth. What a disaster I detailed! Down to the snapping of the mainmast, yet.
He patted me on the shoulder and poured me a drink. He lit the cigar he had given me.
“You just rest easy here,” he told me. “I'll take you ashore any time you like, or I'll signal you a passing ship if you see one you recognize.”
I took him up on his offered hospitality. It was too much of a lifesaver not to. I ate his food and drank his drinks and let him give me a clean shirt which was too big for him. It had belonged to a friend of his who'd drowned at sea.
I stayed with him for three months, as I recovered my strength. I helped him around the place-tending the light on nights when he felt like getting smashed, and cleaning up all the rooms in the house-even to the extent of painting two of them and replacing five cracked windowpanes-and watching the sea with him on stormy nights.
He was apolitical, I learned. He didn't care who reigned in Amber. So far as he was concerned, the whole bloody crew of us were rotten. So long as he could tend his lighthouse and eat and drink of good food and brew, and consider his nautical charts in peace, he didn't give half a damn what happened ashore. I came to be rather fond of him, and since I knew something of old charts and maps also, we spent many a good evening correcting a few. I had sailed far into the north many years ago, and I gave him a new chart based on my recollections of the voyage. This seemed to please him immensely, as did my description of those waters.
“Corey” (that was how I'd named myself), “I'd like to sail with you one day,” he said. “I hadn't realized you were skipper of your own vessel one time.”
“Who knows?” I told him. “You were once a captain yourself, weren't you?”
“How'd you know?” he asked.
Actually, I'd remembered, but I gestured about me in reply.
“All these things you've collected,” I said, “and your fondness for the charts, Also, you bear yourself like a man who once held a command.”
He smiled.
“Yes,” he told me, “that's true. I had a command for over a hundred years. That seems long ago... Let's have another drink.”
I sipped mine and sort of put it aside. I must have gained over forty pounds in the months I had spent with him. Any day now, I was expecting him to recognize me as a member of the family. Maybe he would turn me in to Eric if he did-and maybe not. Now that we'd established this much of camaraderie, I had a feeling that he might not do it. I didn't want to take the chance and find out.
Sometimes as I sat tending the light I wondered, “How long should I stay here?”
Not too much longer, I decided, adding a drop of grease to a swivel bearing. Not much longer at all. The time was drawing near when I should take to the road and walk among Shadows once again.
Then one day I felt the pressure, gentle and questing at first. I couldn't tell for sure who it was.
I immediately stood stock still, closed my eyes and made my mind go blank. It was about five minutes before the questing presence withdrew.
I paced then and wondered, and I smiled when I realized the shortness of my course. Unconsciously, I had been pacing out the dimensions of my cell back in Amber.
Someone had just tried to reach me, via my Trump. Was it Eric? Had he finally become aware of my absence and decided to try locating me in this manner? I wasn't sure. I felt that he might fear mental contact with me again. Julian, then? Or Gerard? Caine? Whoever it had been, I had closed him out completely, I knew that. And I would refuse such contact with any of my family. I might be missing some important news or a helpful call, but I couldn't afford to take the chance. The attempted contact and my blocking efforts left me with a chill. I shuddered. I thought about the thing all the rest of the day and decided that the time had come for me to move on. It wouldn't do for me to remain this close to Amber while I was so vulnerable. I had recovered sufficiently to make my way among Shadows, to seek for the place where I had to go if Amber were ever to be mine. I had been lulled into something close to peace by old Jopin's ministrations. It would be a pain to leave him, for in the months of our association I had come to like the old guy. so that evening, after we'd finished a game of chess, I told him of my plans to depart.
He poured us two drinks then raised his and said, “Good luck to you, Corwin. I hope to see you again one day.”
I didn't question the fact that he had called me by my proper name, and he smiled as he realized that I hadn't let it slip by.
“You've been all right, Jopin,” I told him. “If I should succeed in what I'm about to try, I won't forget what you did for me.”
He shook his head.
“I don't want anything,” he said. “I'm happy right where I am, doing exactly what I'm doing. I enjoy running this damned tower. It's my whole life. If you should succeed in whatever you're about-no, don't tell me about it, please! I don't want to know! -I'll be hoping you'll stop around for a game of chess sometime.”
“I will,” I promised.
“You can take the Butterfly in the morning, if you'd like.”
“Thanks.”
