Authors: Roger Zelazny
“Not now.
Maybe you can help.
You’re a sorcerer.”
I didn’t like that opening, but I asked, “What’s the problem?”
“I went to Bleys’ rooms, to see whether he wanted to come down and join us.
He’s gone.”
“Wasn’t his door locked? Most people do that around here.”
“Yes, from the inside.
So he must have trumped out.
I broke in when he didn’t answer, since there’d been one attempt on his life already.”
“And what would you want of a sorcerer?”
“Can you trace him?”
“Trumps don’t leave tracks,” I said.
“But even if I could, I’m not so sure that I would.
He knows what he’s doing, and he obviously wants to be left alone.”
“But what if he’s involved? He and Caine had been on opposite sides in the past.”
“If he’s mixed up in something dangerous to the rest of us you should be happy to see him go.”
“So you can’t help-or won’t?”
I nodded.
“Both, I guess.
Any decision to seek him out should really come from Random, don’t you think?”
“Maybe.”
“I’d suggest keeping it to yourself till you can talk to Random.
No use stirring up fruitless speculations among the others.
Or I’ ll tell him, if you’ d like.
I’ m going to be talking with him a bit later.”
“What about?”
Ouch.
“Not sure,” I said.
“It’s something he wants to tell me, or ask me.”
She studied me carefully.
“We haven’t really had our own little talk yet,” she said then.
“Looks like we’re having it now.”
“Okay.
May I hear about your problems in one of my favorite shadows?”
“Why not?” I said, and I launched into a synopsis of the damned thing again.
I felt that this would be the final time, though.
Once Flora knew it I was confident it would make the rounds.
She had no information bearing upon my case that she cared to share.
We chatted for a while then-local gossip-and she finally decided to get something to eat.
She departed in the direction of the food and did not return.
I talked with a few of the others, too-about Caine, about my father.
I did not hear anything that I did not already know.
I was introduced to a number of people I had not met before.
I memorized a mess of names and relationships since I had nothing better to do.
When things finally broke up, I kept an eye on Random and contrived to depart at about the same time he did.
“Later,” he said as we passed, and he went off with a couple of guys he’d been talking with.
So I went back to my rooms and stretched out on the bed.
When things are brewing you take your rest whenever you can.
After a time I shpt, and I dreamed .
.
.
I was walking in the formal garden behind the palace.
Someone else was with me, but I did not know who it was.
This did not seem to matter.
I heard a familiar howling.
Suddenly, there were growling noises near at hand.
The first time I looked about I saw nothing.
But then, abruptly, they were there-three huge, doglike creatures similar to the one I had slain in Julia’s apartment.
They were racing toward me across the garden.
The howling continued, but they were not its authors.
They restricted themselves to growling and slavering as they came on.
Just as suddenly, I realized that this was a dream and that I had dreamt it several times before only to lose track of it upon awakening.
The knowledge that it was a dream, however, in no ,way detracted from the feeling of menace as they rushed toward me.
All three of them were surrounded by a kind of light-pale, distorting.
Looking past them, through their haloes, I did not see the garden but caught glimpses of a forest.
When they drew near and sprang to attack it was as if they had encountered a glass wall.
They fell back, rose and dashed toward me once more only to be blocked again.
They leaped and growled and whined and tried again.
It was as if I stood beneath a bell jar or within a magic circle, though.
They could not get at me.
Then the howling came louder, came nearer and they turned their attention away from me.
“Wow !” Random said.
“I should charge you something for pulling you out of a nightmare.”
.
.
.
And I was awake and lying on my bed and there was darkness beyond my window-and I realized that Random had called me via my Trump and tuned in on my dream when he’d made contact.
I yawned and thought him my answer,
“Thanks.”
“Finish waking up and let’s have our talk,” he said.
“Yes.
Where are you?”
“Downstairs.
The little sitting room off the main hall to the south.
Drinking coffee.
We’ve got it to ourselves.”
“See you in five.”
“Check.” Random faded.
I sat up, swung my feet over the side of the bed, and rose.
I crossed the room to the window and flung it wide.
I inhaled the crisp evening air of autumn.
Spring on the shadow Earth, fall here in Amber-my two favorite seasons.
I should be heartened, uplifted.
Instead a trick of the night, the tag-end of the dream-it seemed for a moment that I heard the final note of the howling.
I shuddered and closed the window.
Our dreams are too much with us.
I hiked down to the designated room and took a seat on one of its sofas.
Random let me get through half a cup of coffee before he said, “Tell me about the Ghostwheel.”
“It’s a kind of para-physical surveillance device and library.”
Random put down his cup and cocked his head to one side.
“Could you be more specific?” he said.
“Well, my work with computers led me to speculate that basic data-processing principles could: be employed with interesting results in a place where computer mechanics themselves would not operate,” I began.
“In other words, I had to locate a shadow environment where the operations would remain pretty much invariant but where the physical construct, all of the peripherals, the programming techniques and the energy inputs would be of a different nature.”
“Uh, Merlin,” Random said.
“You’ve lost me already.”
“I designed and built a piece of data-processing equipment in a shadow where no ordinary computer could function,” I replied, “because I used different materials, a radically different design, a different power source.
I also chose a place where different physical laws apply, so that it could operate along different lines.
I was then able to write programs for it which would not have operated on the shadow Earth where I’d been living.
In doing so, I believe that I created a unique artifact.
I called it the Ghostwheel because of certain aspects of its appearance.”
“And it’s a surveillance device and a library.
What do you mean by that?”
“It riffles through Shadow like the pages of a book-or a deck of cards,” I said.
“Program it for whatever you want checked out and it will keep an eye on it for you.
I was planning it as a surprise.
You could, say, use it to determine whether any of our potential enemies are mobilizing, or to follow the progress of Shadow-storms, or-“
“Wait a minute,” he said, raising a hand.
“How? How does it flip through shadows that way? What makes it work?”
“In effect,” I explained, “it creates the equivalent of multitudes of Trumps in an instant, then-“
“Stop.
Back up.
How can you write a program for the creation of Trumps? I thought they could only be done by a person who had an initiate of either the Pattern or the Logrus.”
“But in this case,” I said, “the machine itself is of that same class of magical objects as Dad’s blade, Grayswandir.
I incorporated elements of the Pattern itself into its design.”
“And you were going to surprise us with this?”
“Yes, once it’s ready.”
“When will that be?”
“I’m not sure.
It had to gather certain critical amounts of data before its programs could become fully operational.
I set it to do that a while back, and I haven’t had a chance to check on it recently.”
Random poured some more coffee, took a drink.
“I don’t see where it would save that much in the way of time and effort,” he said a little later.
“Say I’m curious about something in Shadow.
I go and investigate, or I send someone.
Now, say that instead I want to use this thing to check it out.
I still have to spend the time going to the place where you keep it.”
“No,” I told him.
“You summon a remote terminal.”
“Summon? A terminal?”
“Right.” I unearthed my Amber Trumps and dealt myself the one off the bottom.
It showed a silver wheel against a dark background.
I passed it to Random and he studied it.
“How do you use it?” he asked.
“Same as the others.
You want to call it to you?”
“You do it,” he said.
“I want to watch.”
“Very well,” I answered.
“But while I’ve set it to gathering data across the shadows it still won’t know a whole lot that’s useful at this point.”
“I don’t want to question it so much as I want to see it.”
I raised the card and stared, seeing through it with my mind’s eye.
After a few moments, there was contact.
I called it to me.
There followed a small crackling sound and a feeling of ionization in the air as a glowing wheel about eight feet in diameter materialized before me.
“Diminish terminal size,” I ordered.
It shrank down to about a third of what it had been and I ordered it to halt at that point.
It looked like a pale picture frame, occasional sparks dancing within it, the view across the room constantly rippling as seen through its center.
Random began to extend a hand.
“Don’t,” I said.
“You might get a shock.
I still don’t have all the bugs out.”
“It can transmit energy?”
“Well, it could.
No big deal.”
“If you ordered to transmit energy .
.
.
?”
“Oh, sure.
It has to be able to transmit energy here to sustain the terminal, and through Shadow to operate its scanners.”
“I mean, could it discharge it at this end?”
“If I told it to it could build up a charge and let it go.
Yes.”
“What are its limits in this?”
“Whatever it has available.”
“And what does it have available?”
“Well, in theory an entire planet.
But-“
“Supposing you ordered it to appear beside someone here, build up a large charge and discharge it into that person.
Could it do an electrocution?”
“I guess so,” I said.
“I don’t see why not.
But that’s not its purpose-“
“Merlin, your surprise is certainly a surprise.
But I’m not sure I like it.”
“It’s safe,” I explained.
“No one knows where it’s located.
No one goes there.
This Trump I have is the only one.
Nobody else can reach it.
I was going to make one more card, just for you, and then show you how to operate the thing when it was ready.”
“I’m going to have to think about this .
.
.”
“Ghost, within five thousand Shadow veils, this location-how many Shadow-storms are currently in existence?”
The words came as if spoken within the hoop: “Seventeen.”
“Sounds like-“