The Education of Merritt Ap Fiona

Part I: Learning to Juggle

"Begin!" shouted the familiar voice of my bladesmaster. I snapped my eyes open as I stepped back, instantly taking in the scene. He had dropped his cape and tossed his dagger in a high, arching parabola to me. I waited, without forgetting to watch for a surprise attack. "Distraction is a quicker death than exhaustion, lad, don't let your enemy have an opening." I knew the drill, catch his weapon and defend myself from whatever weapon he now had behind his back. We had been at this for seven hours, and I had almost convinced myself that my opportunity would not arise this day.

The slim blade was tumbling exactly as he had expected it to. The bright, bright blade with the one spot of red caught the sunlight, dazzlingly bright and white on this summer evening, and passed directly across the disk of the sun. When I found it again, tumbling down through its arc, the weapon had changed. I stepped to the right location and inserted my hand in the baskethilt of the rapier and brought it to the first defensive position. The drill continued.

I was barely in position when Bleys reached me, a similar rapier in hand, headcut, parry, riposte, parry. We had had our opening pass and he began to drill me. Dagger to Rapier, I noted.

"What are the orders of nobility?" he asked, and pressed his attack.

"King, Prince, Duke, Earl, Marquis, Baron", I replied. Each answer was another swing on his part, another defense on my part. Bleys was a firm believer that pain was powerful aid to memory, that recitation was required to prove that one had learned, and that you weren't really trained to fight unless you could carry on a conversation while fighting. As his student, I could only agree with this assessment.

"Yes, Attack! Your Uncles, in order!"

"Benedict, Eric, Caine, Bleys, Brand, Julian, Gerard, Random."

Ching, swish, clang, ching, ching, clang, swish, clang. I was working very, very hard. A stranger would have assumed I was his son, seeing us together on the banks of the river, drilling on the manicured lawn. I had his hair, his eyes. Some would say I had his mannerisms. My mother had commented that she could not distinguish his laugh from mine. I had always been pleased by that.

"Yes, defend! What is the standard tuning for a 12 string Lute?"

"D, A, D, G, A, D"

"Yes, Hold!"

I stopped in place and closed my eyes, not long enough to rest or to catch my breath, until he shouted "Begin!" and I faced the drill again. His rapier arced into the sun, and it underwent a transformation from sword to Daperian battle stick, (basically a particular shadow's holy whacking stick). Rapier to quarterstaff, I noted. I grinned a bit as I was giving the proper Daperian bow from a student to a master.

Bleys must have known that I had something in mind, but he drilled on. I'd heard his lecture entitled "A Prince with No Plans is No Prince" before and I hoped we did not stop drilling just yet. We usually broke when I made a false move or a wrong answer. We had drilled my education into me in this painful manner in many shadows. I barely noticed Chi'zu, other than as a riverside and an oppressive heat.

"Defend! Describe the named portions of the Pattern of Amber!"

Dodge, parry, counterthust, reverse.

"Yes, Defend! What are the major rivers between Ghenesh and Amber?

Crack, thunk, click, click, thunk, rap, click.

"Yes, attack! Who were the opposing generals and what were their attack strategies for every recorded attack on Amber?"

Reverse, swing, thrust, riposte, headshot, ankle sweep, defend.

"Yes. Hold!"

I closed my eyes, sensing the shadows. Would he? I anticipated and he knew I would try my trick. I hoped it would be novel enough that it would catch him anyway.

"Begin!" He snapped, and I looked to see the weapon as it crossed the dazzling face of the sun. I reached for shadowstuff and felt the staff change to become a net and a spear, falling edge on towards me. He had repeated the sequence! I was ready for this. I reached out with my mind and grabbed at shadows. I continued the transformation in the moment after Uncle Bleys released it. My new weapon wouldn't be good for more than one use, but I could do it.

The net crossed the sun again, and our eyes were dazzled. We had both expected it, but even our senses were temporarily baffled by the full sunlight of Chi'zu. The crossbow landed in my hands, cocked and pointed at Bleys. He aborted his net throw as I released the trigger arm on the weapon, sending the blunted bolt towards my target. He couldn't quite get all the way out of the bolt's path and his cape was marked with chalk. I could barely contain myself; I had beaten the drill! I had surprised Bleys! In a real fight I might have just hit him.

"Hold!" He said, with a tone in his voice I did not hear often enough. "Good! You'll be a threat within a century! But what do you do when all you have is an unloaded crossbow?"

He stepped up his attack and soon I was on the ground, exhausted but grinning. His skill was fantastic and I learned more from his attacks than from any book or drill or theory. I knew one of Bleys' little secrets. Bleys pushed himself hard to learn how to make everything he did look effortless. I knew this because I knew him better than most and because it was my way as well. I suppose there is a nurture versus nature argument to be made; did I learn to be like Bleys because of my education or was it a genetic predisposition we both inherited from Clarissa and Oberon?

I was rolling across the ground, dodging his blows. Fighting Unarmed Versus an Armed Opponent was generally a lesson in taking bruises and cuts. It was worth it.

"Hold!" Another voice, female, and one that both Bleys and I responded to physically. My mother put the book she'd been reading on the table beside her and said "Very good, Merritt. See about supper and then you can finish your essay on variant sonnet cycles in closely related shadows. I believe that I am in need of some exercise with a blade. Bleys, if you will indulge me?"

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Part II: Political Science Practical Studies

"Trin? I'd take the palace with about 400-500 pikemen, wring the Emperor's neck with my bare hands, and declare myself in charge. Trin provides me with the goods and then I'm gone, problem solved."

I knew I'd annoy her with that answer. Children learn these things early. Students learn what will and won't provoke their teacher. I was pushing it, but I didn't want to learn the lesson I was supposed to take away from Shadow Naattyu's particular political disasters.

In some ways I learned more interesting things when I made her mad. Not that I could hope to escape from the lesson plan. Eventually she would get back to that, but not, perhaps, this night. My other teacher, my Uncle Bleys, could be distracted. Usually into theory, but sometimes into swordwork. He could take out his frustrations with his student's shortcomings in exercise. Not so my mother.

"Oh, really? Solved, you say? Somehow, Merritt, I am not convinced. I'm tempted to make you do it, and I still may, depending on how the rest of your analysis shapes up. So lets pretend that the exercise was free form. We'll just ignore the rule that stated 'no bloodshed, no magic' and see what happens if you arrive outside the walls with 500 pike. Describe your plan up to the point where the Emperor is dead at your feet."

Oh, Deity on a Stick. I hadn't meant to really make her that mad. I'll be lucky if I don't have to go do it. She'll nail me even if the plan is good, because the solution won't last. Someday I may learn how she's going to jump if I provoke her.

"OK, so we said 500 pike. We're facing maybe 20 mounted nobles and 200-400 levies. Trin is walled, but there is no gunpowder, so low walls are all they have. We'd build battering rams and hit the north gate. I'd expect we'd be inside in less than a week at a cost of no more than 8% of the troops. We wouldn't burn the town, but we'd march through it. With pikes, we'd have an advantage over the local levies. The castle would be invested in about 4 hours. At that point, we could either accept the surrender of the Emperor or we could wait him out. He would get no help from Almagrin or Lithors, they don't like him.

"We don't need to stay here long--we start to negotiate with the merchant houses before the castle falls. They'll be able to tell which way the wind is blowing and will cooperate with us. They may even save his miserable life.

"In fact, if I can avoid killing him, I will. He goes into the dungeon for 3 months or so. I get what I came for, and I leave, and they get back to their lives, poorer but wiser."

"Not bad, Merritt, but not a workable answer. You won't get the merchant houses because Empress Carlingha is the stepdaughter of the head of the tapestry-maker's guild. Her family won't work for you if she's threatened. So you won't get the goods. The Emperor's Uncle is the harbormaster and has twice sunk enemies of his nephew who thought they held the harbor. Lithors has a secret mutual defense treaty and might just honor it. And the church thinks the Emperor is holy and you'd have holy assassins within a fortnight.

"So it would be at least 6 months that you would need to hold Trin against actual opposition, losing 20% of your forces immediately and 5-15% or so to attrition and desertion per month. I also estimate a 30% chance that the harbormaster could destroy your prize and a 60% chance it will be sabotaged by the workers. Those are poor odds, son. You might do it, but it lacks panache.

"And you couldn't come back, so it would need to be good enough the first time. Now try again, and this time follow the rules. We're trying to give you the tools to deal with any problem here, not to teach you how to blunder through anything with an Army. I don't need Prince Eric as an ally."

Ouch. She was right, as usual. Even if I could get what I wanted from Trin by force, it wasn't the best way. I knew the answer she was waiting for. I'd have to tell her how to get the Emperor to give it to me, gratefully. We are people of great power and our greatest effect is, as mother often said, when we act as a fulcrum for moving the Universe.

My other tutor, Bleys, would not have explained it so clearly. He was a firm believer in the tutoring power of grandmotherly kindness. Bleys would have scoffed at my off-the-cuff plan for being inadequately decisive. No doubt he could explain a way to assure victory with 10 blind pikemen, 4 pikes, and a gimpy Labrador Retriever, but he was a tactical genius.

"Merritt!" Mother said, with the rising inflection at the end that signified active displeasure. I had been daydreaming. I felt as if I were 13 years old. She didn't have to actually rap my knuckles--the effect was the same. "Pay attention. How would you procure a Trinisti Bluesilk tapestry in time for the Prince of Scandia's wedding when the Emperor of Trin opposes you? This time, neither bloodshed nor magic will be acceptable. Start with your analysis of the current situation."

"The Emperor, may he live forever, is a complete and utter shithead, divine or otherwise. He has declared that the national treasures of Trin cannot be exported to the heathens of the North. With the enthusiastic backing of his Holiness Redugrar IV, Arch-Metropolitan of Trin, he enforces this harshly. While a clandestine trade exists, the specific tapestry I want will need to be custom made. Three craftsmasters in Trin could do the work, but they are faced with an inability to get Bluesilk from the Nardonis Combine, which controls it and is trying to curry favor with Holy Mother Church. I could fetch it from shadow and be burned alive as a sorcerer.

"If I didn't have a 'no magic' restriction, a plague of minor proportions might go a long way towards making the survivors more compliant. Other than the tapestries, they are a generally worthless lot and show little promise except to be an example to others. I know, it's a matter of trade-offs. We were looking for the best tapestries, and we didn't care what else we gave up to get them."

"No biowarfare, son. And isn't it a bit hard to call a nine-year-old boy an utter shithead?"

"You obviously haven't spent any time with the lad."

"No, I haven't. Continue. What's your approach to solving this?"

"I have three avenues to pursue. I could try to convince his capricious majesty, I could work on the Metropolitan, or I can work to bring it about despite them both.

"Prudence and expedience dictate that I try all three at once. A three pronged approach it is."

"First, we stage a robbery from Nardonis, providing the raw materials. They won't report it because then they will be responsible for it. That's an example of the stupid laws that get made when inbreeding is allowed to flourish in the ruling class.

"Holy Mother Church has thousands of demons in their cosmology. I think that the Tamari people of Shadow Nath look like those demons. I hire one to impersonate Xaphan and he kidnaps one of the master tapestrymakers, probably Aliandros. I have a local slave tell the Master that he has to weave a tapestry to the demon's satisfaction or he won't be allowed to go free. We do this in Scandia, so that it isn't inopportunely discovered.

"That's my safety play. It is the least desirable option. Eventually word will reach his Imperial Worshipfulness and I would not be able to continue to do business in this city. I could reap the rewards of opening the Scandia-Trin Indigo route, but not as well as if I were allowed into Trin. I'd have to wait a generation to do it personally, and who knows how badly they'd fare if I let them develop without my expert help.

"If either of my two political plans succeeds, then Master Aliandros has produced a backup tapestry for me that I can dispose of after the wedding. He is found babbling about demons and, since he is rich, is considered an eccentric. It may affect his later art, but it will not hurt his artistic reputation.

"Prongs two and three have more risk and bigger rewards. The Metropolitan has a strong desire to rebuild the episcopal seat, since it was dedicated to the priest who kept his grandfather from becoming metropolitan 60 years ago. Trouble is, Holy Mother Church is on hard financial times. Somehow their investments and crops aren't worth what they expected."

I allowed a small grin to cross my face. Even if this was just a game and an exercise in manipulating kindgoms and economies to meet my victory conditions, it was nice to know that some of the contingency work I'd done just in case this shadow was worth something. Uncle Bleys, Prince of Aphorisms, liked to say "If you plan on living forever, every investment returns something, eventually." That described Trin as it existed for us. It was an arrow in our quiver. It was a source of riches to be used as a bargaining chip with someone. It was a long-term investment and getting a source of indigo to Trin would just increase it's value.

I hoped they would use it. My mother and her brother never spoke much of allies or styles of rulership. That they knew the principles was uttely clear from my education. That they might think that it was unnecessary for them was a worry of mine. Sometimes I wondered if I had been born because my uncles weren't good enough politicians to support my mother's ambitions.

"So it's a financial approach. Sound enough, but it doesn't really buy you more than the appreciation of one Imperial Counsellor, and one from a notoriously stubborn lot, at that. Give me more, son."

"There's more. It's a three-pronged approach. I know I can convince the Emperor, but I have to have the court first. I can win the Emperor's Uncle, I think. He's already favorable, because I am a well-behaved user of his harbor and because my ships have helped him against the Almagrin pirates of late. He has two overwhelming concerns, the marital prospects of his daughter and his nephew's increasing reliance on the Metropolitan. All comments of inbreeding aside, he can't marry the girl to the Emperor.

"I offer to act as a go-between for her with the son of the King of Scandia. He'll work on the Emperor for my clearance for that.

"The advantage to this plan is that everyone thinks they won."

"That's always nice. I like it. Write it up, with an additional 6000 words on 'How to Determine if Warfare is a Viable Solution to a Problem."

"Mother!"

"You'd better get started. You'll need to finish it soon if you're to start working on the Metropolitan on Monday."

Mother rose from the settee. "I'll be back to pick it up later. It sounds like a plan that will work. If you get an extra Bluesilk tapestry or two, just remember your mother's tastes in art."

She rose and kissed my cheek, and walked out of the sitting room.

Well, there went my weekend. She gave me the lab and the essay. I hoped that I would remember to take today's lesson (do not annoy Fiona ap Clarissa y Oberon) to heart.

I suspected that I would not.

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Part III: What I Did During the War

"The pride of Avernus is dead, Merritt. I am counted dead and, in an act of amazing mercy, cruelty, and expediency, Eric has had Corwin's eyes burned out with red-hot pokers."

I'd known for close to a week that my Uncle Bleys had lived through the failed assault on Kolvir, but I hadn't seen him since he'd sent me home from Avernus, the night that Corwin came to him.

Bleys was an excellent tactician, and it had made sense to keep me in reserve when he could use Corwin, but I had a neophyte's hurt pride over being kept out of action yet again. I could have led the Navy and I certainly wouldn't have done any worse than Corwin.

"That was probably Julian's idea. He's the best of that lot."

Mother was always better than Uncle Bleys at analyzing the family. She had the best grasp of why they were who they were. I never had asked her, but I knew that she had enemies in the family. I had sometimes wondered what the circumstances were that she could have made them.

"You always did like him."

"Yes, he's got principles and brains. I'm sorrier that he's on the other side than I am of any of our allies or foes."

"Merritt," said Bleys, and I knew I was, as always, the star pupil. "why wouldn't Eric kill Corwin?" Bleys didn't want to know; he wanted to know that I knew. In some ways, I never expected to stop being his pupil. One day, of course, I would be involved in the game, so all the honing I could get was valuable. Still, I was impatient.

"Eric is not a consensus governor, but rather builds individual noninterference agreements with those of significant enough power for him to bother with. So, it's a message to many people. To the neutrals and the mortal of his allies, he says 'I am a good ruler because I show mercy even to my hated rival.' To us, it says 'this is not a black and white war.' To Amber, it says 'I am firmly enough in control that I do not have to kill the leader of the Army that climbed the steps.'

"If the tale we heard was correct, this is the second time Eric has spared Corwin when he had him in his power. It is a good move, but he gets so little of the credit he should from it. I wonder what other personal motives drive it."

"Dad." Both Mother and Bleys said the word simultaneously. "Eric is desperate for Dad's approval," Bleys continued, "forthcoming or not, he'll do anything to be good enough for Dad. To succeed Oberon on Amber's throne is to face a monumental legacy. Not that Eric didn't have this problem when Dad was around."

"It's more than that. He needs to be so good that he is the only choice. It's part of his nature. He's like Brand, it's only a victory if he's got us around to see that he beat us."

Mother shuddered. I guessed that she and Uncle Brand were at odds again. She didn't fear Uncle Brand, exactly, but he was a risk and a problem that she had inherited. I hadn't met him then and Mother did not ever want me to. I knew that we had or would soon be betraying him. I'd heard that he expected it.

Bleys reached out and petted Mother's arm. "We're pretty far out into shadow. That should keep Eric from finding us, but limits the time we have. We're closer to our other enemies, which is not a bad thing.

"So, having just had the humbling experience of losing an army, a navy, almost being roasted alive in the woods, and falling off Kolvir, I find I need another army, and fast. What do we have, nephew?"

"Avernus is out--not only did we chew up the best and the brightest of their current generation, but took a religious tack. They're only useful if our target is Eric and Amber. Most of the shadows we spent time in over the past few years are excellent at Machiavellian politics and small scale conflict. Those few with big wars are almost certainly settled one way or another. I suppose we could find a shadow of a shadow, but that's always something of a crap shoot."

"Right, we need a large, well-trained army, fiercely personally loyal to me, with the ability to fight magic, chaos-creatures, Amber, technology, and overwhelming odds. And we need it quickly. We don't have time to build separate forces for different kinds of attacks. Damn Brand anyway! He pushed Corwin at me and I had to go off half-cocked to protect our secrets."

It was Mother's turn to soothe him. "You salvaged more than we could hope for and at least we learned about Brand. We'll have to watch him. He's a loose cannon."

"Another year, even six months, and I could've taken Eric, Jewel or no. Instead I had to shove the men into a meat grinder for a feint!"

"We didn't have to expose Merritt's existence to get the fleets out of the way. We also learned quite a bit about Eric's strengths, capabilities, and weaknesses. Corwin is now safely out of harm's way in a cozy cell. Brand can't contact him and finish what he started with Random's brat. I wonder if Julian knows how clever that was..."

"Probably not. Merritt, you've told me what we don't have. What do we have?"

I was ready. Being in the presence of my mother and my uncle was frequently an exercise in waiting. I often wondered how much of their conversations echoed conversations they'd had centuries before. It often seemed that predictable. Some days I wondered if I wasn't born because Brand was such a disappointment to Mother.

"I've got a project I've been working on since I left Avernus that might do. I am the Maximum Leader of a high-population nasty little fascist state in a shadow where tech and magic are variable. This was originally the backup in case we had to attack Chaos, but it's probably the strongest, generally, of the shadows we have been cultivating. I guess it would be six or seven years for it to be able to take on all comers. That's absolute years. Two, local."

"Who are they fighting?"

"A loose coalition of Monarchists, Republicans, and other Fascists. It's a resource war, we won't have any trouble redirecting it. Each side is predicting the end of the world in an unspecified but small number of years and they're fighting to get away. It's not rational, of course, but they all think it is."

"Some of that is your doing, naturally. Who knows? They may be right about the eschatology, as well." Bleys looked bleak, as if he was thinking of unpleasant things. That Eric defeated Bleys at all, even with the Jewel of Judgement, is a scary knowledge for me. Eric was always the least of our obstacles, according to Mother. Even with the Federal troops I had in Shadow Daylloon, I knew I wasn't going to be ready to storm the gates of heaven alone anytime soon.

"Both sides are strong and have large populations and decent industrial/economic bases. The populations are willing to fight the war and win it. The opposition is tough enough to be a real challenge. The biggest issue will be getting my Federals primed for maximum usefulness and out in time to fight the real battle. That's what the whole 'end of the world' schtick is about."

"Good, but you're wasting half your potential force."

"Am I? I'm going to take the whole of the Federal Army. I wasn't planning on worrying about the Federation once I pulled the Army to wherever we need it."

Bleys frowned. "Always leave yourself the option to go back and rebuild. You are a prince of Amber..."

"'and Princes of Amber always have time on their side.' I know, you've taught me that one well. This time, I'm not sure it's true."

"It is, but we won't worry about that now."

He must be distracted, I thought. I wasn't even given an essay to write on why it was true. Perhaps class was over. That was a disturbing thought in so many ways that I decided to bury it completely in my subconscious. I wanted to be a player, but I wasn't sure I was ready.

"I think, Merritt, we can double the size of the Army now that I am back."

"How?" I hated to ask, but I just didn't see a way to do it. There just weren't enough Federal children who could grow up in time to enlist.

"Easily. Have you ever seen a chef sharpen two knives by running each along the other's edge? You'll continue as you are and have your Army and I will be strengthening the opposing coalition. They're the second army."

Of course. My uncle was, as usual, a strategic genius. I felt like a fool for missing it.

"This is what we've been preparing for, son. You're our ace in the hole and the surprise weapon we can use to win this." Mother was good at encouraging pep-talks. She wouldn't always tell me how or what she wanted, but she was quite good at encouraging. She always knew how to motivate me...

"So, Merritt, which of your opponents is the ripest for my takeover?"

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Part IV: Relativity

"Commander?"

"Yes, soldier?" I replied.

"The Marshall is here to see you."

Bleys? At this hour? I wasn't supposed to check in with him until the night before my feint. It was four days before our attack was to commence and we had a rhythm down. He was firmly entrenched in his alliance, and I had the federation well in hand. They were banging each other hard and we could take either Army anywhere on a week's notice, if we could find our opposition.

That was the rub, of course. Eric had an Army in Amber, grown larger and larger as he fought along the Black Road and against those forces of Chaos that used it. Chaos had forces that could not be allowed to conquer Amber. Brand was a constant threat. And the Joker in the Deck, Corwin, Prince of Outrageous Fortune, was likely to be a wild card in any game in which he played. We couldn't commit to a plan of attack because it wasn't clear whom we should be attacking. So we honed our forces. Two armies, two powerful war machines. Just possibly one or both of them would be enough to win a war.

It wasn't the war we'd wanted to be in, either. Oh, certainly, a war of conquest that placed Bleys on the throne was the initial plan. Events had overtaken us. Today we hoped to be ready to save someone's bacon as a way of saving ours. Some of our foes wanted to destroy the universe. How hard is it to choose sides in that fight?

That he was here might mean that it was time to fight the war we'd built these armies for. We'd heard rumors of signs. His very presence lent credence to them.

"Send him in, at once, and bring us some tea, soldier."

My attache had that glazed look that told me that my uncle had been affecting his mind. Necessary, in this case, because otherwise the soldier should have attempted to capture the field marshall of the enemy forces and that would be hard to explain away in our headquarters. The task should give him a few moments to get mentally settled.

"Yes, sir." He turned and exited.

I wanted the tea to steady myself. It had taken us a year and a half to engineer this war, and the forces we were building were incredible. War was hardening the soldiers and the countries and soon we would have two separate forces each of which dwarfed the army that I had seen Bleys build to scale the side of Kolvir. Better trained, better equipped, more intelligent, more loyal, and as likely to die as the men of Avernus.

I suppose it might be considered immoral to start a world war to improve your army. Maybe, but it fit our urgency and need. At least we wanted the army for something.

It was dark out, rare in this high latitude. The Martial Federation had attacked the Northern Alliance's eastern neighbors and we were not quite above the arctic circle. Those terms were somewhat meaningless, since this shadow was closer to Chaos than we normally worked. It was not cold, it was light almost around the clock. Our headquarters unit had not been here for three weeks; I was not yet used to it, although some of the troops said they liked it.

Bleys walked in then, impeccably dressed in the uniform of the Northern Alliance. I hoped he had been discreet in his entrance. My troops thought of him as the enemy. Naturally, they were not let to see him, but rather an officer in my service. That's what they would remember, anyway. Not that it wasn't easier when there were only a few witnesses to influence.

"Commander Merritt of the Martial Federation of States, it is good to see you."

"Lord High Marshall Bleys of the Northern Alliance, you are welcome."

Uncle Bleys looked, and sounded, a bit tired. It was unlike him.

"You have been doing well here. Tell me about it."

"Not much has changed since my last status report," I began. I could see he would not be patient with that approach. "But I will summarize," I redirected quickly. "Our forces currently have two active fronts; the Northern Front along the Swift River, across it in some places. We threaten the capital of your allies the Narlings. On the Southern Front on the plains of Armaa your troops fare better--they threaten the western provinces of Altamere and Perinor and hold the province of West Papaar. Neither side has advanced much in the last two years, although we started the war with a rotation of fronts ninety degrees widdershins.

"The current state of the war is stalemate, with battles raging across the minor powers' lands. We've built and built and honed our generals and troops and manipulated the population with propaganda and probability (birth rates are up, so are enlistments) and we need to change this war soon, or else we'll lose the edge we're generating.

"You're here, I think, because you've received the same situation reports that I have from the south. Vicious attacks by unknown assailants against both of our forces from lands beyond the frontier. The victims always swear that there is a supernatural element to the attacks but the finest thaumaturge in all of the Federation can't detect anything. It's the Black Road isn't it? If we've lost the ability to block it here, then Chaos may know about this place..."

"Possibly, possibly. What are the current plans for this Army, Merritt?"

"Why, Uncle, it's obvious. We wait here for you to determine our next move."

Bleys face darkened. "Ah. Well good for you for penetrating the veil. You're more advanced than I thought."

"Am I? Other than the Black Road, I thought you would have all the information. Are you well? You don't seem yourself."

"Don't I? Let me show you something."

Bleys flipped me a trump case. I caught it and opened the pouch. "Go ahead, look at the top one."

I opened the case and pulled out the card and glanced at it. I had used both his Trump and Mother's several times. I felt the coldness radiating in waves from it. I saw the image and it was nothing I recognized and I could not move. Bleys was chuckling. His voice changed. All I could see was the image, like a cobra, hypnotizing me.

"I don't know how you figured out I was your uncle, but it doesn't matter. I learned what I needed to know. Now you get to be of service to me, nephew. Isn't family wonderful? I wish I had 20 at home like you. You may even live through this if you keep your head. My friends in Chaos want my son as a hostage to my good behavior. I don't really want to behave, so I'm going to fool them. We all look alike to them, anyway. The good news is that Chaos needs to keep you alive. The bad news is that that's almost all they can promise. Nobody is sure what it will do to your mind. At the very least, I would expect you to be more wary in the future."

The voice was moving, as if the speaker were pacing. It moves, finally, to a spot behind my chair. I felt hands on my shoulders and a shove, and I was rolling forward. The trump made contact with me and wrapped me in a velvety grip and began pulling. "Give my regards to Duke Borel. Tell him Brand sent you," said the voice that was not Bleys'. I was pulled by that tar baby of a card to another place, and I faded in a rainbow prism from my office.

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Part V: Epilogue

The door opened and Bleys entered.

"Merritt! We've got a problem, it's the Black Roa..." He stopped as he observed the fading trump reflection. "Who was that?"

The man in the room turned towards him, wearing Merritt's face. "Who was what?"

Bleys stood and stared at Merritt for a moment and shook his head. "Sorry, Brand, it's just not very convincing. Where's Merritt?"

Brand's face flowed like wax, releasing the hold of the past half hour. "The lad? Oh, I'm sure he's around here somewhere."

"Certainly you wouldn't have anything to do with his disappearance, then, brother. It's just wildest coincidence that you're in here trying to pretend to be Merritt. I should kill you right here. You've been a loose cannon since day one, you tanked our plans by dredging up Corwin and setting off Caine. Now I find you here. Explain yourself."

"Oh, don't worry about Merritt, Bleys. He'll be safe as long as I'm OK. He was quite helpful about the nature and strength of your forces here. If he lives he looks like he could grow into quite a valuable operator."

"Flattery, Brand, was never your strength. Don't try to smooth-talk me. I've no patience with your tricks."

"Consider him my insurance against your team. After all, you wouldn't want me to hurt your son."

Brand looked at Bleys' face and laughed. "Oh really? Oh, how rich. He's not your son at all, is he? That would make him our dear sister's get. Oh, I cannot tell you how amusing that is." Bleys hands clenched and unclenched as Brand doubles over with laughter. "Oh, I am so glad I didn't just kill the little shit when I found him. Oh, my dear Bleys, you should see the look on your fa--Uuuuhh."

Brand took the uppercut unprepared and was knocked unconscious. Even out cold, Bleys thinks, he still looks dangerous. He probably is.

Bleys riffed through his trump deck ("Any time you catch a card deck while falling off Kolvir, it's a lucky card deck.") and shuffled out his sister.

The cold wind blew through from Amber and Fiona's face appeared. "Bleys?" she responded.

"Trouble."

"I saw portents of it. What's wrong?"

"Him. In fact, I've got him."

"You've got him? How?"

"He's got a glass jaw."

"So are you asking my permission to kill him? You can save us untold misery."

"I don't think that's a good idea. That's the trouble. He grabbed Merritt before I got here."

"Oh. I see."

"Indeed. What about that tower where we studied barriers? Can we harden it enough to keep him in?"

"Yes, good idea. How long can I have to prepare?"

"A few hours, no more. Once we put him there, we can take our time to getting information from him. Information about a number of pressing questions."

"You know we can't hold him forever."

"What else can we do? He's probably cost me half my army here and he's got Merritt. We can't kill him and we can't let him go. It's not like the old alliance could be any more broken. We've got to hold on to him. And we might be able to learn something from him."

"I'm not sure we can count on that. He possesses incredible resources. But I agree, we've got to do something. OK, I'll get started on the barriers. You bring our damned megalomaniacal brother and then work on some physical defenses. Who knows what his allies could throw at this?"

"Fi?"

"Yes?" She sounded as if she was distracted.

"Sorry. Brand shouldn't have gotten to your son. I will apologize."

"No, let's worry about getting Merritt back. At least we have Brand."

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Created 7/7/2001 by Michael Croft for Amberway II