PRINCE OF CHAOS (4 page)

“I knew him,” he said, “long ago, before his troubles.
 
And I do not know whether to rejoice or despair in this.
 
Recovered; he may be working for the greater good.
 
Then again, his interests may be totally partisan.”

“Sorry I can’t enlighten you,” I said.
 
“I find his actions cryptic, too.”

“I’m baffled also,” Mandor said, “by the disposition of the Eye.
 
But it still sounds pretty much a local matter, involving Amber’s relations with Kashfa and Begma.
 
I don’t see that there is anything to be gained at this point by speculation.
 
It’s better keeping most of our attention for more pressing local matters.”

I felt myself sigh.

“Such as the succession?” I suggested.
 
Mandor quirked an eyebrow.

“Oh, Lord Suhuy has briefed you already?”

“No,” I replied.
 
“No, but I heard so much from my father of the succession in Amber, with all its cabals, intrigues, and double crosses, that I almost feel an authority on the subject.
 
I imagine it could be that way here, too, among the Houses of Swayvill’s descendants, there being many more generations involved.”

“You have the right idea,” he said, “though I think the picture might be a bit more orderly here than it was there.”

“That’s something, anyway,” I said.
 
“For me, I intend to pay my respects and get the hell out.
 
Send me a postcard telling me how it gets settled.”

He laughed.
 
He seldom laughs.
 
I felt my wrist prickle where Frakir usually rides.

“He really doesn’t know,” he said, glancing at Suhuy.

“He’s just arrived,” Suhuy answered.
 
“I hadn’t the time to tell him anything.”

I groped in my pocket, located a coin, withdrew it, and flipped it.

“Heads,” I announced, on inspection.
 
“You tell me, Mandor.
 
What’s going on?”

“You’re not next in line for the throne,” he said.
 
It being my turn to laugh, I did.

“I already knew that,” I said.
 
“You told me not that long ago, over dinner, how long the line was before me-if someone of my mixed blood could be considered at all.”

“Two,” he said.
 
“Two stand before you.”

“I don’t understand,” I said.
 
“What happened to all the others?”

“Dead,” he replied.

“Bad year for the flu?”

He gave me a nasty smile.

“There has been an unprecedented number of fatal duels and political assassinations recently.”

“Which sort dominated the field?”

“The assassinations.”

“Fascinating.”

“...
 
And so you three are under black watch protection of the Crown, and were given into the care of your respective Houses’ security.”

“You’re serious.”

“Indeed.”

“Was this sudden thinning of the ranks a matter of many people simultaneously seeking advancement? Or was it a smaller number, removing roadblocks?”

“The Crown is uncertain.”

“When you say ‘the Crown,’ who, exactly, are you referring to, right now? Who’s making decisions in the interim?”

“Lord Bances of Amblerash,” he replied, “a distant relative and longtime friend of our late monarch.”

“I sort of recall him.
 
Could he have an eye on the throne himself, and be behind any of the-removals?”

“The man’s a priest of the Serpent.
 
Their vows bar them from reigning anywhere.”

“There are usually ways around vows.”

“True, but the man seems genuinely uninterested in such a thing.”

“That needn’t preclude his having a favorite, and maybe helping him along a bit.
 
Is anybody near the throne particularly fond of his Order?”

“To my knowledge, no.”

“Which doesn’t mean someone mightn’t have cut a deal.”

“No, though Bances isn’t the sort of man one would approach easily with a proposition.”

“In other words, you believe he’s above whatever’s going on?”

“In the absence of evidence to the contrary.”

“Who is next in line?”

“Tubble of Chanicut.”

“Who’s second?”

“Tmer of Jesby.”

“Top of the line, your pool,” I said to Suhuy.

He showed me his teeth again.
 
They seemed to rotate.
 
“Are we at vendetta with either Chanicut or Jesby?” I asked.

“Not really.”

“We’re all just taking care then, huh?”

“Yes.”

“How did it all come to this? I mean, there were a lot of people involved, as I recall.
 
Was it a night of the long knives, or what?”

“No, the deaths have been occurring steadily for some time.
 
There wasn’t a sudden bloodbath when Swayvill took his turn for the worse-though a few did occur just recently.”

“Well, there must have been some investigation.
 
Do we have any of the perps in custody?”

“No, they either escaped or were killed.”

“What of those who were killed? Their identities might indicate their political affiliations.”

“Not really.
 
Several were professionals.
 
A couple of others were general malcontents, arguably among the mentally ill.”

“You’re saying there are no clues as to who might be behind it all?”

“That’s right.”

“What about suspicions then?”

“Tubble himself is of course suspect, though it is not a good idea to say it aloud.
 
He stood to benefit the most, and now he’s in a position to do so.
 
Also, there is much in his career of political connivance, double-dealing, assassination.
 
But that was long ago.
 
Everyone has a few skeletons in the cellar.
 
He has been a quiet and conservative man for many years.”

“Tmer, then-he’s close enough to generate suspicion.
 
Is there anything to connect him with the bloody business?”

“Not really.
 
His affairs are hardly open.
 
He’s a very private man.
 
But he was never associated with such extremes in the past.
 
I do not know him all that well, but he has always struck me as a simpler, more direct person than Tubble.
 
He seems the sort who’d simply attempt a coup if he wanted the throne badly enough, rather than spend a lot of time intriguing.”

“There could, of course, be a number of people involved, each acting in his own interest-“

“And now that the matter is imminent they’ll have to surface soon?”

“It would seem so, wouldn’t it?”

A smile.
 
A shrug.

“No reason for a coronation to end it all,” he said.

“A crown does not automatically make a person daggerproof.”

“But the successor would come to power with a lot of bad baggage.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time in history.
 
And if you stop to think about it, some very good monarchs have come to power under such a cloud.
 
By the way, has it occurred to you that the others might be speculating along these lines about you?”

“Yes, and it makes me uncomfortable.
 
My father wanted the throne of Amber for a long time, and it really messed up his life.
 
He was only happy when he said the hell with it.
 
If I learned anything from his story, that’s it.
 
I have no such ambition.”

But for a moment, I wondered.
 
What would it feel like to control a massive state? Every time I complained about politics, here, in Amber, back in the States on the Shadow Earth, there was the automatic corollary of considering the way I’d manage situations if I were in charge.

“I wonder?” Mandor repeated.

I glanced downward.

“Perhaps the others are looking into their own saying pools just now,” I said, “hoping for clues.”

“Doubtless,” he responded.
 
“What if Tubble and Tmer did meet untimely ends? What would you do?”

“Don’t even think about it,” I said.
 
“It won’t happen.

“Suppose.”

“I don’t know.”

“You really should make some sort of decision, just to have it out of the way.
 
You’re never at a loss for words when you know your own mind.”

“Thanks.
 
I’ll remember that.”

“Tell me more of your story, since last we met.”

And so I did, Pattern ghosts and all.

Somewhere near the end the wailing sound began again.
 
Suhuy moved toward the rock.

“Excuse me,” he said, and the rock parted and he passed within.

Immediately, I felt Mandor’s gaze heavy upon me.
 
“We probably only have a moment,” he said.
 
“Not enough time, really, to go into everything I wanted to cover with you.”

“Very private, huh?”

“Yes.
 
So you must arrange to dine with me before the funeral.
 
Say, a quarter-turning hence, bluesky.”

“All right.
 
Your place, or the Ways of Sawall?”

“Come to me at Mandorways.”

The rock phased again as I nodded, and a lithe demonic figure entered, shimmering bluely within a veil of cloud.
 
I was on my feet in an instant, then bowing to kiss the hand she extended.

“Mother,” I said.
 
“I hadn’t anticipated the pleasure-this soon.”

She smiled, and then it went away in a swirl.
 
The scales faded, the contours of her face and form flowed.
 
The blue went away into a normal though pale flesh color.
 
Her hips and shoulders widened as she lost something of height, though still remained tall.
 
Her brown eyes grew more attractive as the heavy brow ridges receded.
 
A few freckles became visible across her now-human, slightly upturned nose.
 
Her brown hair was longer than when last I had seen her in this form.
 
And she was still smiling.
 
Her red tunic became her, simply belted; a rapier hung at her left hip.

“My dear Merlin,” she said, taking my head between her hands and kissing me upon the lips.
 
“I am pleased to see you looking so well.
 
It has been quite a while since last you visited.”

“I’ve had a very active existence of late.”

“To be sure,” she said.
 
“I’ve heard some report of your various misadventures.”

“I’d imagine you would have.
 
It’s not everyone has a ty’iga following him about, periodically seducing him in various forms, and making life, in general, very complicated with unwanted efforts at protection.”

“It shows that I care, dear.”

“It also shows that you have no respect for my privacy nor trust in my judgment.”

Mandor cleared his throat.

“Hello, Dara,” he said then.

“I suppose it must seem that way to you,” she stated.
 
Then, “Hello, Mandor,” she went on.
 
“What happened to your arm?”

“A misunderstanding involving some architecture,” he replied.
 
“You’ve been out of sight, though hardly out of mind, for some time.”

“Thank you, if that’s a compliment,” she said.
 
“Yes, I go a bit reclusive every now and then, when the weight of society becomes troublesome.
 
Though you’re hardly the one to talk, sir, vanishing far long stretches as you do in the labyrinths of Mandorways-if that be indeed where you take yourself.”

He bowed.

“As you say, lady, we appear to be creatures of a kind.”

Her eyes narrowed, though her voice was unchanged, as she said, “I wonder.
 
Yes, I can sometimes see us as kindred spirits, perhaps even more than in our simplest cycles of activity.
 
We’ve both been out and about a lot of late, though, haven’t we?”

“But I’ve been careless,” said Mandor, indicating his injured arm.
 
“You, obviously, have not.”

“I never argue with architecture,” she said.
 

“Or other imponderables?” he asked.

“I try to work with what is in place,” she told him.
 

“Generally, I do, too.”

“And if you cannot?” she asked.
 
He shrugged.