Blood of Amber

«Thanks.» The trail split after a short while, and he took the right-hand branch, which involved some climbing. Eventually this led us to a series of rocky shelves, the last of which receded for a considerable distance. There were a number of clefts at its rear, into one of which he ducked. I followed him a short distance along it, and he halted before a low cave mouth. A horrible odor of putrefaction drifted forth, and I could hear the buzzing of flies within.

«This is my place,» he announced. «I'd invite you in, but it's a little uh -»

«That's okay,» I said. «I'll wait.»

He ducked inside, and I realized that my appetite was rapidly vanishing, especially when it came to anything he might have stored in that place. Moments later he emerged, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. «Got some good stuff in here,» he announced.

I started walking back along the cleft.

«Hey! Where you headed?»

«Air,» I said. «I'm going back out on the shelf. It's a bit close back there.»

«Oh. Okay,» he said, and he fell into step behind me.

He had two unopened bottles of wine, several canteens of water, a fresh-looking loaf of bread, some tinned meat, a few firm apples and an uncut head of cheese in the bag, I discovered, after we'd seated ourselves on a ledge out in the open and he'd gestured for me to open the thing and serve myself. Having prudently remained upwind, I took some water and an apple for openers.

«Place has a stormy history,» he stated, withdrawing a small knife from his girdle and cutting himself a piece of cheese. «I'm not sure who built it or how long it's been there.»

When I saw that he was about to dig the cork out of a wine bottle with the knife I halted him and essayed a small and surreptitious Logrus sending. The response was quick, and I passed him the corkscrew immediately. He handed me the entire bottle after he'd uncorked it and opened the other for himself. For reasons involving public health I was grateful, though I wasn't in the mood for that much wine.

«That's what I call being prepared,» he said, studying the corkscrew. «I've needed one of these for some time…»

«Keep it,» I told him. «Tell me more about that place. Who lives there? How did you come to be part of an invading army? Who's attacking it now?»

He nodded and took a swig of wine.

«The earliest boss of the place that I know of was a wizard named Sharu Garrul. The queen of my country departed suddenly and came here» He paused and stared off into the distance for a time, then snorted. «Politics! I don't even know what the given reason for the visit was at the time. I'd never heard of the damned place in those days. Anyhow, she stayed a long while and people began to wonder. Was she a prisoner? Was she working out an alliance? Was she having an affair? I gather she sent back messages periodically, but they were the usual bland crap that didn't say anything, unless of course there were also secret communications folks like me wouldn't have heard about. She had a pretty good-sized retinue with her, too, with an honor guard that was not just for show. These guys were very tough veterans, even though they dressed pretty. So it was kind of debatable what was going on at that point.»

«A question, if I may,» I said. «What was your king's part in all this? You didn't mention him, and it would seem he ought to know -»

«Dead,» he announced. «She made a lovely widow, and there was a lot of pressure on her to remarry. But she just took a succession of lovers and played the different factions off against each other. Usually her men were military leaders or powerful nobles, or both. She'd left her son in charge when she made this trip, though.»

«Oh, so there was a prince old enough to sit in control?»

«Yes. In fact, he started the damned war. He raised troops and wasn't happy with the muster, so he got in touch with a childhood friend, a man generally considered an outlaw, but who commanded a large band of mercenaries. Name of Dalt»

«Stop!» I said.

My mind raced as I recalled a story Gerard had once told me, about a strange man named Dalt who had led a private army against Amber, unusually effectively. Benedict himself had had to be recalled to oppose him. The man's forces had been defeated at the foot of Kolvir, and Dalt himself severely wounded. Though no one ever saw his body, it was assumed he would have died of such injuries. But there was more.

«Your home,» I said. «You never named it. Where are you from, Dave?»

«A place called Kashfa,» he replied.

«And Jasra was your queen?»

«You've heard of us. Where're you from?»

«San Francisco,» I said.

He shook his head. «Don't know the place.»

«Who does? Listen, how good are your eyes?»

«What do you mean?»

«A little while ago, when we looked down on the lighting, could you make out the Bag the attackers were carrying?»

«Eyes ain't what they used to be,» he said.

«It was green and black with some sort of animals on it.»

He whistled. «A lion rending a unicorn, I'll bet. Sounds like Dalt's.»

«What is the significance of that device?»