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

hurt Aber. But clearly my brother needed to adjust his methods of Trump-making if he intended to keep up.
    "But -" Aber began, looking with bewilderment from the drawing to me and back again. "How -"
    "I'll explain later. Right now, I want you to find some white-wash and cover up the Trump on the wall. Summon it using the Logrus if you have to. I don't care - just get it. I don't want anyone following us through the picture on the wall."
    "Come quickly!" Dad called, voice flat and far away. He held out his right hand to Blaise. She took it and he helped her step through.
    "What if you need rescuing?" Aber asked. "I can't help if I can't get there."
    I said, "We won't. If we fail, we'll be dead."
    He sighed. "Okay. I'll do it as soon as you're gone. Anything else?"
    "I can't think of anything."
    Dad called, "Hurry up, my boy!" The doorway to the workshop suddenly rippled like a lake touched by morning breezes.
    I hefted my sword. Hopefully Dad's plan would work.
    In fast. Rescue Freda. Run away.
    Simple, at least in theory.
    Lowering my head, I walked through the drawing on the wall. Aber vanished behind me. Down and up flip-flopped several times. Strange colors and smells hit my senses in pulsating waves - reds that smelled of cheese, yellows that stank of wet skunk, browns and grays like rotting horseflesh. Gagging, I tried not to retch.
    Voices reached me, but oddly garbled. Suddenly Dad's face pressed close to mine. I looked up into his brown eyes and gasped. His pupils flickered with reds and yellows, as though fires burned behind his face. His skin might have been the paper of some paper lantern.
    He said something, but I couldn't quite make out the words. He might just as well have been speaking some barbarian tongue. Since he seemed to expect an answer, I gave a curt nod and forced myself upright. I couldn't hold up Freda's rescue.
    That seemed to satisfy him. Turning, he headed for the door.
    Taking a shuddering breath, I glanced around the room. Light came from a dim ball hovering in
    the corner, just below the ceiling. Much like Dad's workshop in Juniper, this appeared to be a private retreat for study and magical research. If we'd had more time, I would have liked to go through it carefully. There was no telling what useful notes or devices we might find in here.
    Suddenly the room tilted to the left. I staggered into the table and caught myself against it.
    Everything swam drunkenly, and gravity flip-flopped several times.
    Blaise gripped my shoulder. Gulping frantically, I looked into her face.
    I couldn't make out the words, but I read her lips: "Are you all right?"
    "Dizzy…" I muttered.
    Something in my ears made a little popping sound, and the next time she spoke, I actually heard words:
    "Want me to slap you?"
    "Hah!" I said. Maybe my "Chaos legs," as Aber had called them, were returning. "Just try it."
    "If you think it will help…"
    I released the table. "Only if I get to break your arm!"
    "He's all right," she said to Dad.
    "Are you sure?" Dad asked, hesitating. "He looks sick."
    "I'm fine," I growled. I had no intention of sitting out Freda's rescue.
    "Don't worry," Blaise said, patting my cheek. "If you can't keep up, I'll carry you." She glanced at our father. "Can you locate Freda? I sense her presence, but not clearly. Is she close?"
    "Yes," Dad said. "This way, I think." Pushing open the door, he hurried out into a hallway.
    Blaise motioned me forward, so I went next. She brought up the rear.
    Dimly glowing balls of light hovered overhead at regular internals. Light puddled on the ceiling above them, casting a dim yellow glow across the stone floors and wood-paneled walls.
    Dad headed right, and I followed two paces behind. He seemed to have a clear idea where he was going. We passed doors with faces, each exactly the same as the last. They had all been carved from slabs of ebon-colored wood, with an identical face in each one's exact center: horned forehead, deep-set eyes, broad nose and