Roger Zelazny - Hall of Mirrors.pdf - Roger Zelazny - margozap

Roger Zelazny. Hall of Mirrors

Neither of us realized there had been a change until a halfdozen guys

tried an ambush.

We had spent the night in the Dancing Mountains, Shask and I, where I'd

witnessed a bizarre game between Dworkin and Suhuy. I'd heard strange tales

about things that happened to people who spent the night there, but I hadn't

had a hell of a lot of choice in the matter. It had been storming, I was

tired, and my mount had become a statue. I don't know how that game turned

out, though I was mentioned obliquely as a participant and I'm still

wondering.

The next morning my blue horse Shask and I had crossed the Shadow

Divide 'twixt Amber and Chaos. Shask was a Shadow mount my son Merlin had

found for me in the royal stables of the Courts. At the moment, Shask was

traveling under the guise of a giant blue lizard, and we were singing songs

from various times and places.

Two men rose on either side of the trail from amid rocky cover,

pointing crossbows at us. Two more stepped out before usone with a bow, the

other bearing a rather beautiful looking blade, doubtless stolen,

considering the guy's obvious profession.

"Halt! and no harm'll happen," said the swordsman.

I drew rein.

"When it comes to money, I'm pretty much broke right now," I said, "and

I doubt any of you could ride my mount, or would care to."

"Well now, maybe and maybe not," said the leader, "but it's a rough way

to make a living, so we take whatever we can."

"It's not a good idea to leave a man with nothing," I said. "Some

people hold grudges."

"Most of them can't walk out of here."

"Sounds like a death sentence to me."

He shrugged.

"That sword of yours looks pretty fancy," he said. "Let's see it."

"I don't think that's a good idea," I said.

"Why not?"

"If I draw it, I may wind up killing you," I said.

He laughed.

"We can take it off your body," he said, glancing to his right and

left.

"Maybe," I said.

"Let's see it."

"If you insist."

I drew Grayswandir with a singing note. It persisted, and the eyes of

the swordsman before me widened as it went on to describe an arc calculated

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Roger Zelazny. Hall of Mirrors

to intersect with his neck. His own weapon came out as mine passed through

his neck and continued. His cut toward Shask and passed through the animal's

shoulder. Neither blow did any damage whatsoever.

"You a sorcerer?" he asked as I swung again, delivering a blow that

might have removed his arm. Instead, it passed harmlessly by.

"Not the kind who does things like this. You?"

"No," he answered, striking again. "What's going on?"

I slammed Grayswandir back into the scabbard.

"Nothing," I said. "Go bother someone else."

I shook the reins, and Shask moved forward.

"Shoot him down!" the man cried.

The men on either side of the trail released their crossbow bolts, as

did the other man before me. All four bolts from the sides passed through

Shask, three of the men injuring or killing their opposite numbers. The one

from ahead passed through me without pain or discomfort. An attempted sword

blow achieved nothing for my first assailant.

"Ride on," I said.

Shask did so and we ignored their swearing as we went.

"We seem to have come into a strange situation," I observed.

The beast nodded.

"At least it kept us out of some trouble," I said.

"Funny. I'd a feeling you would have welcomed trouble," Shask said.

I chuckled.

"Perhaps, perhaps not," I replied. "I wonder how long the spell lasts?"

"Maybe it has to be lifted."

"Shit! That's always a pain."

"Beats being insubstantial."

"True."

"Surely someone back at Amber will know what to do."

"Hope so."

We rode on, and we encountered no one else that day. I felt the rocks

beneath me when I wrapped myself in my cloak to sleep that night. Why did I

feel them when I didn't feel a sword or a crossbow bolt? Too late to ask

Shask whether he had felt anything, for he had turned to stone for the

night.

I yawned and stretched. A partly unsheathed Grayswandir felt normal

beneath my fingers. I pushed it back in and went to sleep.

Following my morning ablutions, we rode again. Shask was taking well to

hellrides, as well as most Amber mounts did. Better, in some ways. We raced

through a wildly changing landscape. I thought ahead to Amber, and I thought

back to the time I'd spent imprisoned in the Courts. I had honed my

sensitivity to a very high degree through meditation, and I began to wonder

whether that, coupled with other strange disciplines I'd undertaken, could

have led to my intangibility. I supposed it might have contributed, but I'd

a feeling the Dancing Mountains were the largest donor.

"I wonder what it represents and where it came from?" I said aloud.

"Your homeland, I'd bet," Shask replied, "left especially for you."

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Roger Zelazny. Hall of Mirrors

"Why did you read it that way?"

"You've been telling me about your family as we rode along. I wouldn't

trust them."

"Those days are past."

"Who knows what might have happened while you were away? Old habits

return easily."

"One would need a reason for something like that."

"For all you know, one of them has a very good one."

"Possibly. But it doesn't seem likely. I've been away for some time,

and few know I'm free at last."

"Then question those few."

"We'll see."

"Just trying to be helpful."

"Don't stop. Say, what do you want to do after we get to Amber?"

"Haven't made up my mind yet. I've been something of a wanderer."

I laughed.

"You're a beast after my own heart. In that your sentiments are most

unbeastlike, how can I repay you for this transport?"

"Wait. I've a feeling the Fates will take care of that."

"So be it. In the meantime, though, if you happen to think of something

special, let me know."

"It's a privilege to help you, Lord Corwin. Let it go at that."

"All right. Thanks."

We passed through shadow after shadow. Suns ran backward and storms

assailed us out of beautiful skies. We toyed with night, which might have

trapped a less adroit pair than us, found a twilight, and took our rations

there. Shortly thereafter, Shask turned back to stone. Nothing attacked us

that night, and my dreams were hardly worth dreaming.

Next day we were on our way early, and I used every trick I knew to

shortcut us through Shadow on our way home. Home... It did feel good to be

headed back, despite Shask's comments on my relatives. I'd no idea I would

miss Amber as much as I had. I'd been away far longer on countless

occasions, but usually I had at least a rough idea as to when I might be

heading back. A prison in the Courts, though, was not a place from which one

might make such estimates.

So we tore on, wind across a plain, fire in the mountains, water down a

steep ravine. That evening I felt the resistance begin, the resistance which

comes when one enters that area of Shadow near to Amber. I tried to make it

all the way but failed. We spent that night at a place near to where the

Black Road used to run. There was no trace of it now.

The next day the going was slower, but, more and more, familiar shadows

cropped up. That night we slept in Arden, but Julian did not find us. I

either dreamed his hunting horn or heard it in the distance as I slept; and

though it is often prelude to death and destruction, it merely made me feel

nostalgic. I was finally near to home.

The next morning I woke before sunup. Shask, of course, was still a

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Roger Zelazny. Hall of Mirrors

blue lizard curled at the base of a giant tree. So I made tea and ate an

apple afterward. We were low on provisions but should soon be in the land of

plenty.

Shask slowly unwound as the sun came up. I fed him the rest of the

apples and gathered my possessions.

We were riding before too long, slow and easy, since there would be

some hard climbing up the back route I favored. During our first break I

asked him to become once more a horse, and he obliged. It didn't seem to

make that much difference, and I requested he maintain it. I wanted to

display his beauty in that form.

"Will you be heading right back after you've seen me here?" I asked.

"I've been meaning to talk to you about that," he responded. "Things

have been slow back in the Courts, and I'm no one's assigned mount."

"Oh?"

"You're going to need a good mount, Lord Corwin."

"Yes, I'm sure."

"I'd like to apply for the job, for an indefinite period."

"I'd be honored," I said. "You're very special."

"Yes, I am."

We were atop Kolvir that afternoon and onto the grounds of Amber Palace

within hours after that. I found Shask a good stall, groomed him, fed him,

and left him to turn to stone at his leisure. I found a nameplate, scratched

Shasko's name and my own upon it, and tacked it to his door.

"See you later," I said.

"Whatever, Lord. Whatever."

I departed the stables and headed for the palace. It was a damp, cloudy

day, with a chill breeze from the direction of the sea. So far, no one had

spotted me.

I entered by way of the kitchen, where there was new help on duty. None

of them recognized me, though they obviously realized that I belonged. At

least, they returned my greeting with due respect and did not object to some

fruit I pocketed. They did ask whether I cared to have something sent to one

of the rooms, and I answered "yes" and told them to send a bottle of wine

and a chicken along with it. The afternoon head chef--a redhaired lady named

Clare--began studying me more closely, and more than once her gaze drifted

toward the silver rose on my cloak. I did not want to announce my identity

just then, and I thought they'd be a little afraid to guess ahead at it, at

least for a few hours. I did want the time to rest a bit and just enjoy the

pleasure of being back. So, "Thanks," I said, and I went on my way to my

quarters.

I started up the back stairs the servants use for being unobtrusive and

the rest of us for being sneaky.

Partway up, I realized that the way was blocked by sawhorses. Tools lay

scattered about the stairs though there were no workmen in sight--and I

couldn't tell whether a section of old stair had simply given way or whether

some other force had been brought to bear upon it.

I returned, cut around to the front, and took the big stairway up. As I

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Roger Zelazny. Hall of Mirrors

made my way, I saw signs of exterior repair work, including entire walls and

sections of flooring. Any number of apartments were open to viewing. I

hurried to make sure that mine was not among their number.

Fortunately, it was not. I was about to let myself in when a big

redhaired fellow turned a corner and headed toward me. I shrugged. Some

visiting dignitary, no doubt...

"Corwin!" he called out. "What are you doing here?"

As he drew nearer, I saw that he was studying me most intently. I gave

him the same treatment.

"I don't believe I've had the pleasure," I said.

"Aw, come on, Corwin," he said. "You surprised me. Thought you were off

by your Pattern and the '57 Chevy."

I shook my head.

"Not sure what you're talking about," I said.

He narrowed his eyes.

"You're not a Pattern ghost?" he said.

"Merlin told me something about them," I said, "after he effected my

release at the Courts. But I don't believe I've ever met one."

I rolled up my left sleeve.

"Cut me. I bleed," I said.

As he studied my arm, his gaze appeared more than a little serious. For

a moment, I thought he'd actually take me up on it.

"All right," he said then. "Just a nick. For security purposes."

"I still don't know who I'm talking to," I said.

He bowed.

"Sorry. I am Luke of Kashfa, sometimes known as Rinaldo I, its king. If

you are who you say you are, I am your nephew. My dad was your brother

Brand."

Studying him, I saw the resemblance. I thrust my arm farther forward.

"Do it," I said.

"You're serious."

"Dead right."

He drew a Bowie knife from his belt then and looked into my eyes. I

nodded. He moved to touch my forearm with its tip and nothing happened. That

is to say, something happened, but it was neither desired nor wholly

anticipated.

The point of his blade seemed to sink a halfinch or so into my arm. It

kept going then, finally passing all the way through. But no blood came.

He tried again. Nothing.

"Damn," he said. "I don't understand. If you were a Pattern ghost, we'd

at least get a flare. But there's not even a mark on you."

"May I borrow the blade?" I asked.

"Sure."

He passed it to me. I took it in my hand and studied it, I pushed it

into my arm and drew it along for perhaps threequarters of an inch. Blood

oozed.

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Roger Zelazny - Hall of Mirrors.pdf

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