Read Online Jack Of Shadows by Roger Zelazny - Free Book Online

while, then made the attempt. I failed-or, rather, was only half-successful. You have just seen the results. I disposed of my dead homunculus in the Dung Pits of Glyve and one day that thing returned to me. I cannot take credit for its animation. The forces that restore us at that place stimulated it somehow. I do not believe the Borshin to be truly alive, in the ordinary sense of the word."
    "Is it one of the items you mentioned, which will serve to torment your enemy?"
    "Yes, for I have taught it two things: to fear me and to hate my enemy. I did not bring it here just now, however. It has its own ways of coming and going, though I did not think they extended to this place. I will have to investigate the matter further."
    "In the meantime, it will be free to enter here whenever it chooses?"
    "I am afraid so."
    "Then might I borrow a weapon to keep with me?"
    "I am sorry, but I have none to lend you."
    "I see."
    "I had best be going now. Enjoy your bath."
    "One thing," said Jack.
    "What is that?" asked the other, whose fingers were caressing the pendant.
    "I, too, have an enemy for whom I con template an involved piece of vengeance. I will not bore you with details now, save that I believe mine will be superior to yours."
    "Really? I would be interested to learn what you have in mind."
    "I will see that you do."
    Both smiled.
    "Until later, then."
    "Until later." The Lord of Bats vanished.
    Jack bathed, soaking himself for a long while in the lukewarm water. All the fatigue he had accumulated during his journey seemed to seize him then, and it took a mighty effort of will to rise, dry his body and walk to the bed, where he collapsed. He felt too tired to hate properly, or to begin planning his escape.
    He slept, and while sleeping he dreamed.
    He dreamed he held the Grand Key of Kolwynia, which was Chaos and Formation, and with it unlocked the sky and the earth, the sea and the wind, bidding them to fall upon High Dudgeon and its master from all corners of the world. He dreamt that there the flame was born and the dark Lord was held in its heart forever like an ant in amber, but alive, sleepless and feeling. Exulting in this, he heard the sudden chatter of the World Machine. He moaned and cried out at this omen; and within the walls, infinities of Jacks twisted on sweatdrenched beds.

5
    JACK SAT IN the chair nearest the bed, his legs stretched out before him and crossed at the ankles, fingers interlaced beneath his chin. He wore the red, white and black diamond-patched clothing of a jester; his wine-colored slippers curled at the toes and ended in loose threads, where he had torn off the bells. He had discarded the quinopolus, and the belled cap had gone into the chamber pot.
    Any moment now, he decided. I hope the Borshin does not follow him.
    The remains of his thirty-first meal in that place, a breakfast, occupied the table. The air about him was cooler than he found comfortable. The Borshin had visited him on three occasions since his arrival, plumping into sudden existence, drooling and snatching at him. Each time, he had fended it off with a chair, while screaming as loudly as he could manage; and the Lord of Bats always followed after a few moments and drove the creature away, apologizing profusely for the inconvenience. Jack had been unable to sleep well since the first such visit, knowing that it could happen again at any time.
    The meals appeared regularly, quite undistinguished repasts, and he ate them automatically while thinking of other matters. Afterward, he was never able to recall what they had featured, nor did he wish to.
    Soon now he reflected.
    He had exercised to keep from growing soft. He had gained back some of the weight he had lost. He had fought boredom by planning and rejecting many plots for escape and vengeance. Then Rosalie's words had returned to him, and he determined his course of action.
    The air seemed to shimmer. There came a lone, not unlike the snapping of a fingernail against a goblet,