To Rule in Amber by Roger Zelazny, John Gregory Betancourt Page A

a beautiful woman.
    "Someone has to watch your back," she said in a no-nonsense voice. "If you and Dad are going after Freda, you'll need help. There don't seem to be any other men around" - she shot Aber a pointed look - "so I have to pitch in."
    Aber said, "I'll leave the manliness up to you. You have a bigger pricker than I do, anyway." He seemed to find that amusing and snickered a bit.
    "Do you know how to use that thing?" I asked Blaise.
    "Try me and see."
    I chuckled. "Aber's right, you know."
    Her eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"
    "You aren't our sister. The real Blaise belongs in the afraid-of-breaking-fingernails camp."
    "There's no reason a woman can't look good and defend herself."
    I just shook my head. We definitely had interesting characters in our family. Every time I thought I had my siblings figured out, new twists in their personalities appeared. Blaise as protective warrior-beauty queen… definitely not the image I'd had of her.
    Completely businesslike now, she joined our father at the bed. He had been studiously ignoring us. Dad had pulled a small pouch from some inner pocket and had emptied its contents onto the quilt -
    rings, bits of colored glass and stone, a few fingerbones, a large agate marble. He picked through everything and selected what looked like a small piece of charcoal.
    "Do-it-yourself Trumps?" I guessed. That seemed the likeliest way into Thellops's lair.
    Without a word, Dad hurried to the wall beside the door. Smooth and freshly whitewashed, it offered a clean surface ideal for drawing.
    He sketched a rectangle the size of a door. Then, with a few simple lines, he added a rough representation of a workroom: a long wooden table cluttered with bottles, jars, and tubes filled with bubbling liquids; tall bookcases; and a jumble of books and papers. More than anything, it reminded me of Dad's workroom in Juniper. It just needed a few mummified cats and a selection of bizarre and complex machines to be complete.
    Aber cocked his head and studied the wall critically. "That one can't possibly work," he said.
    "There's no representation of the Logrus underlying it."
    "An ignorant comment based on foolish assumptions," Dad muttered impatiently. He added a horned skull atop one bookcase and a glowing ball of light in one corner, then smiled half to himself.
    "What do you mean?" Aber demanded.
    "You are an idiot, my boy. The Logrus is immaterial."
    "So you're using the Pattern?"
    "Of course. Not that it matters. Neither one needs to be incorporated into the drawing."
    "But it's the same idea. You need a magic underpinning to the image -" he began.
    "Try telling the Logrus that. Or the Pattern. Both exist with no underpinnings whatsoever. They merely are ."
    Dad returned to the bed and began gathering up his rocks, bones, and bits of glass, all of which he put back into his pouch. He dropped the charcoal in on top.
    "That's crazy." Aber shook his head.
    Dad looked at Blaise and me. "Prepare yourselves."
    I drew my sword and went to stand beside him. As we all faced the picture on the wall, I half wondered if Aber might be right. Dad's drawing ranked among the worst Trumps imaginable. Sketchy black lines, faintly drawn from memory… how could it possible work?
    But then, as I studied the image, I sensed an almost tangible power radiating from it. As Dad stepped forward and concentrated, the picture suddenly colored with browns and grays and ruddy oranges, coming to life. Instead of a black-and-white line drawing, we suddenly gazed through a shimmering doorway into Thellops's workshop.
    Without hesitation, Dad stepped through into that room. He looked around quickly.
    "Empty," he announced. His voice sounded distant.
    "Impossible!" Aber muttered, staring.
    "Not at all." I glanced at my brother. "You need to pay attention to what Dad's doing." Some time ago, our father had mentioned offhandedly that Aber had no idea how Trumps really worked. I hadn't repeated that comment, since I'd known it would