Sign of the unicorn (1975) — the chronicles of amber (3) — roger zelazny
I ignored the questions in the eyes of the groom as I lowered the grisly parcel and turned the horse in for care and maintenance. My cloak could not really conceal the nature of its contents as I slung the guts over my shoulder and stamped off toward the rear entrance to the palace. Hell would soon be demanding its paycheck.
I skirted the exercise area and made my way to the trail that led toward the southern end of the palace gardens. Fewer eyes along that route. I would still be spotted, but it would be a lot less awkward than going in the front way, where things are always busy. Damn.
And again, damn. Of troubles I considered myself amply possessed. But those who have do seem to get. Some spiritual form of compound interest, I suppose.
There were a few idlers beside the fountain at the far end of the garden. Also, a couple of guards were passing among the bushes near the trail. The guards saw me coming, held a brief discussion, and looked the other way. Prudent.
Me, back less than a week. Most things, still unresolved. The court of Amber, full of suspicion and unrest. This, now: a death to further jeopardize the brief, unhappy prereign of Corwin I: me.
Time now to do something I should have done right away. But there had been so many things to do, from the very first. It was not as if I had been nodding, as I saw it. I had assigned priorities and acted on them. Now, though…
I crossed the garden, out of the shade and into the slanting sunlight. I swung up the wide, curving stair. A guard snapped to attention as I entered the palace. I made for the rear stairway, then up to the second floor. Then the third.
From the right, my brother Random stepped out of his suite and into the hallway.
"Corwin!" he said, studying my face. "What's the matter? I saw you from the balcony and — "
"Inside," I said, gesturing with my eyes. "We are going to have a private conference. Now."
He hesitated, regarding my burden.
"Let's make it two rooms up," he said. "Okay? Vialle's in here."
He led the way, opened the door. I entered the small sitting room, sought a likely spot, dropped the body.
Random stared at the bundle.
"What am I supposed to do?" he asked.
"Unwrap the goodies," I said, "and take a look."
He knelt and undid the cloak. He folded it back. "Dead all right," he observed. "What's the problem?"
"You did not look closely enough," I said. "Peel back an eyelid. Open the mouth and look at the teeth. Feel the spurs on the backs of the hands. Count the joints in the fingers. Then you tell me about the problem."
He began doing these things. As soon as he looked at the hands he stopped and nodded. "All right," he said. "I remember."
"Remember out loud."
"It was back at Flora's place…"
"That was where I first saw anyone like this," I said. "They were after you, though. I never did find out why."
"That's right," he said. "I never got a chance to tell you about it. We weren't together all that long. Strange… Where did this one come from?"
I hesitated, torn between pushing him from his story and telling him mine. Mine won out because it was mine and very immediate.
I sighed and sank into a chair.
"We've just lost us another brother," I said. "Caine is dead. I got there a bit too late. That thing — person — did it. I wanted it alive, for obvious reasons. But it put up quite a fight. I didn't have much of a choice."
He whistled softly, seated himself in the chair opposite me.
"I see," he said very softly.
I studied his face.