Nine Princes in Amber (The Chronicles of Amber #1)

by Roger Zelazny

Before I arrived, I'd already decided on the tack I'd take.

"Corwin," she said, "if you do make it—if by some wild and freakish chance out of Shadow you should make it—will you remember your little sister Florimel?"

I decided I'd return to the library and see what I could learn there. Besides, I like libraries. It makes me feel comfortable and secure to have walls of words, beautiful and wise, all around me. I always feel better when I can see that there is something to hold back the shadows.

I'd have to pretend to the knowledge I didn't possess, while piece by piece I mined it from those who had it. I felt confident that I could do it. There was enough distrust circulating for everyone to be cagey. I'd play on that. I'd get what I needed and take what I wanted, and I'd remember those who helped me and step on the rest.

"What the hell is be riding, a locomotive?" I asked.

almost nighttime sky, with that golden sun hanging up there in it, the sea was so rich—thick as paint, textured like a piece of cloth, of royal blue, almost purple—that it troubled me to look upon

"and by the way, we're almost out of gas." "Too late to do much about that," he said. "We are now in the real world, and it would be a horrible effort to play with Shadows. Also, it would not go unnoticed.

We continued for another mile and paused for cigarettes, which we held cupped in our hands. "It's a lovely night," I said, to Random and the cool breeze. "I suppose. . . . What was that?" There was a soft rustling of shrubbery a bit of a way behind us.

Take a chance and try the thing called the Pattern. Odds are, it'll restore your memory. Are you game?"

"Rebma is the ghost city," he told me. "It is the reflection of Amber within the sea. In it, everything in Amber is duplicated, as in a mirror. Llewella's people live there, and dwell as though in Amber. They hate me for a few past peccadilloes, so I cannot venture there with you, but if you would speak them fair and perhaps hint at your mission, I feel they would let you walk the Pattern of Rebma, which, while it is the reverse of that in Amber, should have the same effect. That is, it gives to a son of our father the power to walk among Shadows." "How will this power help me?" "It should make you know what you are." "Then I'm game," I said. "Good man. In that case, we'll keep heading south. It will take several days to reach the stairway. . . .You will go with him, Deirdre?"

A great billow of blood, like crimson smoke, arose and swirled within the greenish light. Crazily, I wished Van Gogh were there to see it.

The blood billowed above them, and I suddenly realized that I had known mad, sad, bad Vincent Van Gogh, and it was really too bad that he couldn't have painted this.

We were taken to the palace in the center of the city, and I knew it as my hand knew the glove in my belt.

"In a place in this building," she said, "there is a room where few would go. In that room," she continued, "upon the floor, traced in fiery outline, there lies a duplicate of the thing we call the Pattern. Only a son or daughter of Amber's late liege may walk this Pattern and live; and it gives

to such a person a power over Shadow."

"So may it be," I said, and looked away, feeling a sadness come over me—for the girl, of course. "What may I say to you?" I said. "Perhaps you do a good thing. I hope so." And I took her hand and kissed it. "You, Lord Corwin, are the only prince of Amber I might support," she told me,

So I drew her upon me and found the catch to the buckle which covered the

softness of her belly. There was more softness beneath, and her hair was green. Upon the couch, I gave her her ballad. Her lips replied without words.

My mind recoiled from the touch of it. But if I were a prince of Amber, then somewhere within my blood, my nervous system, my genes, this pattern was recorded somehow, so that I would respond properly, so that I could walk the bloody thing.

Blonde." I remembered, I remembered . . . . my life within the Shadow place its inhabitants had called the Earth.

I recall the sweetness of thy airs, and the temples, palaces, and pleasances thou containest, contained, will always contain, Amber, immortal city from which every other city has taken its shape, I cannot forget thee, even now, nor forget that day on the Pattern of Rebma when I remembered thee within thy reflected walls,

It is strange, I guess, to have kin and to be without kinship, for as long as our lives had led us along our

Lord! We talked the moon out of the heavens before either of us grew tired.

After a time, it came to life; and I saw Eric in his sleeping garments and I heard the words, "Who is it?" His arm was bound. "Me," I said, "Corwin. How are you?" He cursed then, and I laughed. This was a dangerous game and maybe the whisky had contributed to It. but I continued: "I just felt like telling you that all goes

thumbed my nose at him and passed my palm over the card. It was like hanging up a telephone, and I shuffled Eric in with all the rest.

"And I'll get you more troops," I added. "Never fear." And I did. I walked among Shadows, and found a race of furry creatures, dark and clawed and fanged, reasonably man-like, and about as intelligent as a freshman in the high school

of your choice—sorry, kids, but what I mean is they were loyal, devoted, honest, and too easily screwed by bastards like me and my brother. I felt like the dee-jay of your choice.

there is Shadow and there is Substance, and this is the root of all things. Of Substance, there is only Amber, the real city, upon the real Earth, which contains everything. Of Shadow, there is an infinitude of things. Every possibility exists somewhere as a Shadow of the real.

"Until then," I said, "try this!" And I hit him with everything I had, boring into his mind, hurting him with my hatred. I felt his pain and it drove me harder.

And what of my sisters? Forget it. Bitches all, they.

And when all was done, and I could help it no longer, I thought of Amber. One time, when I did so, my tear glands began to function again. I wept.

Something was wrong in Amber. Strange things walked through Shadow and presented themselves, with violence, to all and sundry. They were destroyed, of course. Eric was still trying to figure out how they had occurred. I did not mention my curse, though I later rejoiced in the fact that it had come to pass.

I switched the spoon to my left hand and continued until itF began to ache.

A flock of frightened gulls wheeled and screamed about me, and my laughter was one with the booming of the surf and the free song of the wind. Amber lay forty-three miles behind my left shoulder. I had escaped.

As I sailed into Shadow, a white bird of my desire came and sat upon my right shoulder, and I wrote a note and tied it to its leg and sent it on its way.

A black bird of my desire came and sat on my left shoulder, and I wrote a note and tied it to its leg and sent it off into the west. It said, "Eric—I'll be back," and it was signed: "Corwin, Lord of Amber."