Read Online To Rule in Amber by Roger Zelazny, John Gregory Betancourt - Free Book Online Page A

sister Blaise. We were hoping your boy might go to Haddoxville for Old Doc Hand."
    Jamas nodded. "Old Doc Hand is the one you want, sure enough, for somethin' like seizures.
    Always go with experience, I say. My boy's out back getting wood for the kitchen. He'll be back in a few minutes. I'll send him straight for the doc. He won't mind."
    "Thanks."
    "Don't mention it."
    Turning, I carried Dad up the narrow flight of steps to the second floor. I pushed open the first door on the left with my foot, finding a small chamber with mismatched pieces of furniture: a high-canopied bed, a narrow armoire, and a battered washstand with a chipped blue basin. It would do quite nicely for Dad.
    "Here, let me get the bed."
    Blaise hurried around me and drew back the patchwork quilt. I slid Dad between the sheets. He was drooling again. I sighed and wiped his mouth on his shirt.
    "Can I untie him now?" she asked. "I don't think he's dangerous."
    "All right. But be careful - if he wakes up, he might get violent."
    "He wouldn't hurt me."
    "You can't trust a madman."
    Silently she untied our father's wrists, rubbing at the deep red marks they left. Dad stirred a bit and murmured softly. Then, to my surprise, she reached down and removed a knife with a unicorn-hilt from his right boot. I hadn't known he carried one there. It matched the one I'd taken from him earlier.
    "I keep my eyes open," she said with a grin, as if in answer to my thoughts. She passed the knife to me, and I tucked it into my belt, next to its mate. "Not that it will do much good - he can always get another one with the Logrus."
    I hadn't thought of that, and I frowned. What use to disarm someone who could get a new weapon any time he wanted?
    "Maybe we should leave him tied up…" I said.
    "If he gets loose, he gets loose. I'll help you catch him next time, if it comes to that."
    I raised my eyebrows. Again, I sensed the warrior within her that she kept so carefully hidden behind silks and lace. I did not doubt her word: if she said she'd help catch him, she would do it.
    "Come on," Blaise said. "I want that drink now."
    "Me too."
    We started for the door, where I drew up short.
    "Wait!" I felt a sense of contact from a Trump.
    "What's wrong?" Blaise asked.
    "Someone's trying to reach me -"
    I concentrated, and through a strange, flickery tunnel I saw a shadowy figure. He - I thought it was a man - seemed to be saying something. I couldn't quite make out the words, though.
    "Who is it?" Blaise asked.
    "I can't tell," I said.
    " Oberon …" The man's voice echoed faintly.
    "Aber?" I said. His image flickered, then grew clearer. It definitely was my brother - but much thinner than the last time I'd seen him. His cheekbones stuck out and dark circles rimmed his deep-set eyes.
    "… alive!" he said. His voice faded it and out. "I've… to reach you… days!"
    "Time runs differently here. Where are you?"
    "About… killed!" he howled. He sounded desperate. "Get… before…! Hurry !"

Eight
    "Here!" Without hesitation, I reached toward him.
    He glanced over his shoulder, eyes growing wide, then seized my wrist with both hands. It felt as though he weighed a ton, but I gritted my teeth and hauled him forward. He tumbled into my arms.
    "O -!" Aber stretched out his hands and staggered. He couldn't seem to get his balance. "There's
    something wrong here -"
    He would have fallen if I hadn't supported him. Could the same thing that happened to Blaise be affecting him, too?
    "You just need to get your Pattern-legs," I said wryly, with more confidence than I felt. When he didn't so much as smile at that private joke, I knew he had to be in pretty bad shape. More concerned now, I helped him sit on the bed next to Dad.
    He had lost a lot of weight, and his face had a desperate, hunted quality I'd only seen in game animals before the kill. Although he wore his usual blue pants and shirt, yellowish dust covered him from head to toe. The knees of his pants had been torn to shreds, like he'd