The hand of Oberon (15 page)

It finally caught the one on its back with its scorpion sting and disembowled the one gnawing at its leg. However, it was running blood from a double dozen wounds by then. Shortly, it became apparent that the leg was giving it trouble, both for striking purposes and for bearing its weight when it struck with the others. In the meantime, another dog had mounted its back and was tearing at its neck. It seemed to be having a more difficult time getting at this one. Another came in from its right and shredded its ear. Two more plied its haunches, and when it reared again one rushed in and tore at its belly. Their barks and growls also seemed to be confusing it somewhat, and it began striking wildly at the ever-moving gray shapes.

I had caught hold of Drum’s bridle and was trying to calm him sufficiently to remount and get the hell out of there. He kept trying to rear and pull away, and it took considerable persuasion even to hold him in place.

In the meantime, the manticora let out a bitter, wailing cry. It had struck wildly at the dog on its back and driven its sting into its own shoulder. The dogs took advantage of this distraction and rushed in wherever there was an opening, snapping and tearing.

I am certain the dogs would have finished it, but at that moment the riders topped the hill and descended. There were five of them, Julian in the lead. He had on his scaled white armor and his hunting horn hung about his neck. He rode his gigantic steed Morgenstem, a beast which has always hated me. He raised the long lance that he bore and saluted with it in my direction. Then he lowered it and shouted orders to the dogs.

Grudgingly, they dropped away from the prey. Even the dog on the manticora’s back loosened its grip and leaped to the ground. All of them drew back as Julian couched the lance and touched his spurs to Morgenstern’s sides.

The beast turned toward him, gave a final cry of defiance, and leaped ahead, fangs bared. They came together, and for a moment my view was blocked by Morgenstern’s shoulder. Another moment, however, and I knew from the horse’s behavior that the blow had been a true one.

A turning, and I saw the beast stretched out, great gouts of blood upon its breast, flowering about the dark stem of the lance.

Julian dismounted. He said something to the other riders which I did not overhear. They remained mounted. He regarded the still-twitching manticora, then looked at me and smiled. He crossed and placed his foot upon the beast, seized the lance with one hand, and wrenched it from the carcass. Then he drove it into the ground and tethered Morgenstem to its shaft. He reached up and patted the horse’s shoulder, looked back at me, turned, and headed in my direction.

When he came up before me he said, “I wish you hadn’t killed Bela.”

“Bela?” I repeated.

He glanced at the sky. I followed his gaze. Neither bird was now in sight.

“He was one of my favorites.”

“I am sorry,” I said. “I misunderstood what was going on.”

He nodded.

“All right. I’ve done something for you. Now you can tell me what happened after I left the palace. Did Brand make it?”

“Yes,” I said, “and you’re off the hook on that. He claimed Fiona stabbed him. And she was not around to question either. She departed during the night, also. It’s a wonder you didn’t bump into one another.”

He smiled.

“I’d have guessed as much,” he said.

“Why did you flee under such suspicious circumstances?” I asked. “It made it look bad for you.”

He shrugged.

“It would not be the first time I’ve been falsely accused, suspected. And for that matter, if intent counts for anything, I am as guilty as our little sister. I’d have done it myself if I could. In fact, I’d a blade ready the night we fetched him back. Only, I was crowded aside.”

“But why?” I asked.

He laughed.

“Why? I am afraid of the bastard, that’s why. For a long while, I had thought he was dead, and certainly hoped so-finally claimed by the dark powers he dealt with. How much do you really know about him, Corwin?”

“We had a long talk.”

“And . . . ?”

“He admitted that he and Bleys and Fiona had formed a plan to claim the throne. They would see Bleys crowned, but each would share the real power. They had used the forces you referred to, to assure Dad’s absence. Brand said that he had attempted to win Caine to their cause, but that Caine had instead gone to you and to Eric. The three of you then formed a similar cabal to seize power before they could, by placing Eric on the throne.”

He nodded.

“The events are in order, but the reason is not. We did not want the throne, at least not that abruptly, nor at that time. We formed our group to oppose their group, because it had to be opposed to protect the throne. At first, the most we could persuade Eric to do was to assume a Protectorship. He was afraid he would quickly turn up dead if he saw himself crowned under those conditions. Then you turned up, with your very legitimate claim. We could not afford to let you press it at that time, because Brand’s crowd was threatening out-and-out war. We felt they would be less inclined to make this move if the throne were already occupied. We could not have seated you, because you would have refused to be a puppet, a role you would have had to play since the game was already in progress and you were ignorant on too many fronts. So we persuaded Eric to take the risk and be crowned. That was how it happened.”

“So when I did arrive he put out my eyes and threw me in the dungeon for laughs.”

Julian turned away and looked back at the dead manticora.

“You are a fool,” he finally said. “You were a tool from the very beginning. They used you to force our hand, and either way you lost. If that half-assed attack of Bleys’s had somehow succeeded, you wouldn’t have lasted long enough to draw a deep breath. If it failed, as it did, Bleys disappeared, as he did, leaving you with your life forfeit for attempted usurpation. You had served your purpose and you had to die. They left us small choice m the matter. By rights, we should have killed you-and you know it.”

I bit my lip. There were many things I might say. But if he was telling something approximating the truth, he did have a point. And I did want to hear more.

“Eric,” he said, “figured that your eyesight might eventually be restored-knowing the way we regenerate-given time. It was a very delicate situation. If Dad were to return, Eric could step down and justify all of his actions to anyone’s satisfaction-except for killing you. That would have been too patent a move to ensure his own continued reign beyond the troubles of the moment. And I will tell you frankly that he simply wanted to imprison you and forget you.”

“Then whose idea was the blinding?”

He was silent again for a long while. Then he spoke very softly, almost a whisper: “Hear me out, please. It was mine, and it may have saved your life. Any action taken against you had to be tantamount to death, or their faction would have tried for the real thing. You were no longer of any use to them, but alive and about you possessed the potentiality of becoming a danger at some future time. They could have used your Trump to contact you and kill you, or they could have used it to free you in order to sacrifice you in yet another move against Eric. Blinded, however, there was no need to slay you and you were of no use for anything else they might have in mind. It saved you by taking you out of the picture for a time, and it saved us from a more egregious act which might one day be held against us. As we saw it, there was no choice. It was the only thing we could do. There could be no show of leniency either, or we might be suspected of having some use for you ourselves. The moment you assumed any such semblance of value you would have been a dead man. The most we could do was look the other way whenever Lord Rein contrived to comfort you. That was all that could be done.”

“I see,” I said.

“Yes,” he agreed, “you saw too soon. No one had guessed you would recover your sight that quickly, nor that you would be able to escape once you did. How did you manage it?”

“Does Macy’s tell Gimbel’s?” I said.

“Beg pardon?”

“I said-never mind. What do you know of Brand’s imprisonment, then?”

He regarded me once more.

“All I know is that there was some sort of falling out within his group. I lack the particulars. For some reason, Bleys and Fiona were afraid to kill him and afraid to let him run loose. When we freed him from their compromise-imprisonment-Fiona was apparently more afraid of having him free.”

“And you said you feared him enough to have made ready to kill him. Why now, after all this time, when all of this is history and the power has shifted again? He was weak, virtually helpless. What harm could he do now?”

He sighed.

“I do not understand the power that he possesses,” he said, “but it is considerable. I know that he can travel through Shadow with his mind, that he can sit in a chair, locate what he seeks in Shadow, and then bring it to him by an act of will without moving from the chair; and he can travel through Shadow physically in a somewhat similar fashion. He lays his mind upon the place he would visit, forms a kind of mental doorway, and simply steps through. For that matter, I believe he can sometimes tell what people are thinking. It is almost as if he has himself become some sort of living Trump. I know these things because I have seen him do them. Near the end, when we had him under surveillance in the palace he had eluded us once in this fashion. This was the time he traveled to the shadow Earth and had you placed in Bedlam. After his recapture, one of us remained with him at all times. We did not yet know that he could summon things through Shadow, however. When he became aware that you had escaped your confinement, he summoned a horrid beast which attacked Caine, who was then his bodyguard. Then he went to you once again. Bleys and Fiona apparently got hold of him shortly after that, before we could, and I did not see him again until that night in the library when we brought him back. I fear him because he has deadly powers which I do not understand.”

“In such a case, I wonder how they managed to confine him at all?”

“Fiona has similar strengths, and I believe Bleys did also. Between the two of them, they could apparently annul most of Brand’s power while they created a place where it would be inoperative.”

“Not totally,” I said. “He got a message to Random. In fact, he reached me once, weakly.”

“Obviously not totally, then,” he said. “Sufficiently, however. Until we broke through the defenses.”

“What do you know of all their byplay with me-confining me, trying to kill me, saving me.”

“That I do not understand,” he said, “except that it was part of the power struggle within their own group. They had had a falling out amongst themselves, and one side or the other had some use for you. So, naturally, one side was trying to kill you while the other fought to preserve you. Ultimately, of course, Bleys got the most mileage out of you, in that attack he launched.”

“But he was the one who tried to kill me, back on the shadow Earth,” I said. “He was the one who shot out my tires.”

“Oh?”

“Well, that is what Brand told me, but it jibes with all sorts of secondary evidence.”

He shrugged.

“I cannot help you on that,” he said. “I simply do not know what was going on among them at that time.”

“Yet you countenance Fiona in Amber,” I said. “In fact, you are more than a little cordial to her whenever she is about.”

“Of course,” he said, smiling. “I have always been very fond of Fiona. She is certainly the loveliest, most civilized of us all. Pity Dad was always so dead-set against brother-sister marriages, as well you know. It bothered me that we had to be adversaries for so long as we were. Things returned pretty much to normal after Bleys’s death, your imprisonment, and Eric’s coronation, though. She accepted their defeat gracefully, and that was that. She was obviously as frightened at the prospect of Brand’s return as I was.”

“Brand told things differently,” I said, “but then, of course, he would. For one thing, he claims that Bleys is still living, that he hunted him down with his Trump and knows that he is off in Shadow, training another force for another strike at Amber.”

“I suppose this is possible,” Julian said. “But we are more than adequately prepared, are we not?”

“He claims further that the strike will be a feint,” I continued, “and that the real attack will then come direct from the Courts of Chaos, over the black road. He says that Fiona is off preparing the way for this right now.”

He scowled.

“I hope he was simply lying,” he said. “I would hate to see their group resurrected and at us again, this time with help from the dark direction. And I would hate to see Fiona involved.”

“Brand claimed he was out of it himself, that he had seen the error of his ways-and suchlike penitent noises.”

“Ha! I’d sooner trust that beast I just slew than take Brand at his word. I hope you’ve had the sense to keep him well guarded-though this might not be of much avail if he has his old powers back.”

“But what game could he be playing now?”

“Either he has revived the old triumvirate, a thought I like not at all, or he has a new plan all his own. But mark me, he has a plan. He has never been satisfied to be a mere spectator at anything. He is always scheming. I’d take an oath he even plots in his sleep.”