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Merlin had left notes. Because of course he did. The first one ended with, “I’m sorry,” and started with, “All of the manuals are in the red cabinet against the left wall. You can’t miss it.”
Since it was the only red thing in a blue glowing cave, I really couldn’t. I wasn’t grateful then, but those fucking manuals kept me from breaking anything I needed to stay alive. They also gave me something to focus on apart from my realization that this wasn’t a joke.
I wanted it to be, but Merlin had apologized. He wouldn’t have done that if it wasn’t deathly serious. ‘Death’ being the key part of that sentence. Probably-- possibly-- not mine. Merlin wouldn’t have trapped me in luxury if he wanted me dead. He also wouldn’t have done it if he hadn’t thought I’d fight him over whatever the hell he was planning to do.
And fight him at the one-of-us-will-die level rather than the never-speaking-to-each-other-again level because this was already past that threshold.
I didn’t want to fight Merlin. I definitely didn’t want to kill Merlin. I might if I had to, but I probably couldn’t do it just for myself. For other people, for certain reasons, I would and-- possibly-- could. I might have to.
If it wasn’t a joke.
It could have been one. Our fathers and their brothers had done worse to each other just for the hell of it, so there was precedent. It was out of character for Merlin, but I might have clung to the idea. Except--
Merlin had apologized.
Merlin was a child of the Courts. An apology acknowledged harm done, real harm that might merit compensation. Him apologizing wasn’t any sort of promise that I’d get that. It was merely an admission that he expected this to hurt me and was continuing deliberately.
It was a mark of respect that he wouldn’t have offered to most of our mutual relatives. He also wouldn’t have built them a prison like this one.
Even without the notes, I’d have known that Merlin had designed the place. Every detail of the technology was fitted to the cave in a way that spoke of understanding how to adapt to the laws of a unique Shadow. That was a trait more commonly found in Chaos than in Amber. Each item, however, was perfectly suited for its task in a way that normally required centuries of work by an expert craftsman, the ability to find exactly what was wanted by Shadow walking, or both. Even the aesthetics worked. I’d have expected the blue glow to make everything stark and unwelcoming, but Merlin had avoided that entirely.
Not that I felt welcomed. Loved, yes. Esteemed, yes. Cherished, even. Merlin hadn’t underestimated me, and that chilled me.
Climate control. Water recycling. Air filtration. Light. Sewage management. I was going to have to work at replenishing my food through gardening and vat culturing protein. It was designed as a closed system, meant to last years, decades, or even-- horrifyingly-- centuries without major resupply. There were things I couldn’t make, and I’d be unhappy without them, but I wouldn’t die.
When something broke-- or when I broke something-- I was going to be fucked.
Merlin probably had a plan for that. If I got truly desperate, I might break something deliberately to find out what he’d do. Just not yet.
Not until I was ready to fight. Not until I decided how I could fight.
And what I was willing to lose. The notes, the prison itself, told me that I hadn’t lost Merlin. Yet.
Merlin’s notes were almost a conversation. Almost. Most explained some technical detail or needed maintenance. In great detail that assumed that I was as curious about Merlin’s research and the technical details of making things work properly as he would be. He knew better, of course, but giving me those details avoided a lot of less pleasant topics.
Others were almost stream of consciousness meandering about his hope that I’d be comfortable and that he’d remembered my taste in spices and colors and entertainment. He hoped I wouldn’t be lonely.
He didn’t apologize again. He also didn’t explain. Whatever his plans were, he was careful enough not to reveal the details. Those details came from a second, more carefully hidden set of notes in a completely different hand.
Rinaldo, son of Brand.
I hadn’t known that the murdering son of a bitch had a child.
Rinaldo’s notes told me a hell of a lot about him, including what Merlin might be getting out of helping him. “I’ve never managed,” the first note I found started, “to shake his attachment to you. I doubt I will because trying too hard will make even Merlin notice that I’m doing it. I’ve other allies but only one Merlin. You and I will simply have to make peace later on or find a way to kill each other without involving him.”
Rinaldo thought Merlin loved him, and Rinaldo was probably right. Rinaldo never said it, but I thought he’d stop whatever revenge plot he had going if Merlin asked. That was the real reason I was sealed into this damned cave-- Rinaldo had realized that, if I asked, Merlin would at least consider changing course.
Merlin would rather imprison me, out of the way, than risk Rinaldo taking steps to stop me interfering.
Aunt Flora could persuade Merlin to change his mind, too. Maybe. Or-- less likely, though everyone in Sawall would think it more-- Mandor might.
Mandor wouldn’t ask because Sawall could benefit from watching Amber bleed. He thought I hadn’t noticed that, one way or another, all of Benedict’s descendants in the Courts had been drawn into Sawall’s orbit and then, eventually, into Sawall proper.
I had watched, and I’d learned a hell of a lot about building loyalty. I’d learned a lot from Oberon, too. I’d figured out what each of them would give me for real loyalty. And what they’d each ask in return. Both prices were too damned high, but at least Mandor understood that it was better that I know the chains were there and accept them before they tightened. Oberon wanted us all to pretend the chains were open doors.
I wouldn’t want to call Oberon an amateur, but I note that he had better luck manipulating people he’d moulded since infancy. Even then… He never actually figured out his daughters.
Judging by Rinaldo’s notes, he was an asshole. He said nasty things in a charming way. I wasn’t supposed to notice those were digs meant to make me feel smaller and see him as bigger. If I hadn’t had centuries of dealing with much more expert assholes, I might have fallen for it. He hated me because, just by existing, I was making his life harder, but he also really wanted to like me because Merlin did.
I could use both things. I didn’t want to, but I probably would.
Rinaldo told me how many years Merlin had spent making this place nice for me. Some of the notes were merely a time interval. Most said more, though, and I got the impression that he had paid close attention to every detail Merlin had let drop about me.
Rinaldo had no intention of killing me. He also had no intention of offering me any compromise. Peace would be on his terms. He thought he could break me without Merlin noticing.
Maybe he could.
Merlin probably knew Rinaldo would try. Merlin certainly knew I wouldn’t go down easy.
I wondered how long I’d have to wait before Rinaldo dropped in and gave me a place to start.
****
I read four hundred books before Rinaldo came. I knew he was coming before he entered the prison because all of the interior doors sealed themselves against me.
I might have been able to break the doors, not directly but by figuring out the mechanism, but I thought it was too soon. He’d be ready for that now. I wasn’t sure how long I could hold out against the isolation, but trying and failing-- I’d only get one chance.
And I wanted to know what Brand’s son looked like.
He was savvy enough not to come to the room where I’d been trapped. He could have.
Instead, the doors opened to let me out.
I wasn’t supposed to notice that that would make me associate his visits with release and his departures with closing doors.
“You’re going to have to wait while I piss,” I said, raising my voice so that it would carry throughout the space.
“No hurry.”
I didn’t recognize the voice. That hurt because part of me had hoped, against all likelihood, that Merlin was visiting. I’d known Rinaldo was more probable.
He had to suspect that I wasn’t likely to be in a state to receive guests. It would be a sign that I wasn’t handling my imprisonment as well as I might pretend.
I took time to wash a little and to change my clothes. I didn’t want to look like I was making a fuss. No. Not quite true. I wanted to look like I was but like I was also trying not to show it. I shaved carelessly then splashed on far too much aftershave.
That was a finite resource. I had no idea how to make more scent or soap, and Merlin hadn’t given me a manual for how to try. I might experiment with scents, but I thought soap might be harder.
I hadn’t figured out if those things I couldn’t easily replace were something Merlin planned to resupply or if they were levers he’d ceded to Rinaldo, luxuries Merlin thought I would want and might bend to obtain.
Merlin could be ruthless, and Merlin was sending me mixed messages.
I wondered if Rinaldo had realized that part of this.
I found him in my sitting room. He was sprawled on my couch, paging through the book I’d left on the end table. When I took a step into the room, he set the book down and rose to his feet. He was a big man, broad shouldered. His hair was as red as that of Clarissa’s children, but I didn’t see any of their madness in his eyes. Whatever he did to me and my kin would be coldly calculated beyond what even Aunt Fiona could manage.
I answered his smile with my own and shook his hand when he offered it. “Nice of you to visit,” I said. “I assume you’ve got an exit strategy.”
His smile widened. “I’ve got a friend outside. Not Merlin.” He eyed me for a moment. “Uncle Dalt,” he said softly. “I don’t think you’ve met.”
“We haven’t.” I shrugged. “Uncle Benedict mentioned him, though.”
A cabal of three made more sense out of Rinaldo thinking he could take on Amber.
I waved him back to the couch and took a seat on the ottoman. “I’d offer you beer, but I haven’t got any.” I could have made some. Probably. If I’d been willing to experiment and take some risks. I thought I remembered something about potential for explosions during fermentation. “Nothing harder, either.”
That last was a lie. Merlin had left me some really excellent booze. I hadn’t opened any of it because the temptation to keep drinking would be too great.
“Both of those lacks can be remedied.” He studied my face. “A lot of things can be remedied.”
I didn’t respond for several seconds because I was pretty sure that, if he really thought that convincing me to cooperate would be that easy, it would be Merlin waiting outside and not the most thuggish of our uncles. I also wondered if Rinaldo knew that I hadn’t so much as cracked a bottle. Tracking my inventory of supplies would be trivial compared to many of the other things intrinsic to Merlin’s design. “There are things I won’t do,” I said at last. “Things I couldn’t forgive.” I made the second part softer, more tentative.
“Nobody’s dead yet,” he told me.
A little tightness at the back of my neck released. Then it occurred to me that I had no way to know if he lied about it. “Walking in here is still a stupid thing to do.”
He shifted minutely, so I suspected that he agreed with me. “I thought we should meet and talk,” he said. “Once at least.” He almost frowned.
I pulled myself to my fullest height and squared my shoulders as if I was trying to make myself look more physically impressive. Having my father’s physique might actually be an advantage if Rinaldo failed to realize that it didn’t translate to weakness. I doubted he was older than I was, and that mattered a hell of a lot in our family.
Would he even realize that whatever decades or centuries I had on him mattered?
“How did you meet Merlin?” I had wondered that more than once.
He grinned. “College. Track team. He didn’t guess.”
Which meant either that Rinaldo wasn’t tougher or faster than Merlin was or that he’d managed to hide it from Merlin. Some things, even Merlin wouldn’t have missed.
I sighed. “And you love him.” I couldn’t even make it a question.
His eyes widened; then he nodded. “I do.”
We had that in common, so I looked away.
“You’re going to be a hell of a lot of work.” Rinaldo sounded a little depressed at the prospect.
I wanted to bare my teeth at him, but I limited myself to a tight smile. “Can’t expect me to make it easy for you.”
“It would sure as hell be nice.”
I was almost certain that he wanted me to laugh, so I did. “Merlin’s the reason I haven’t attacked you,” I informed him. It was a lie, but it was one I thought he’d believe.
His startlement showed as only the briefest spark of expression. “That would be singularly unwise.” Rinaldo knew me as a Prince of Amber with all of the unbending pride and arrogance that involved. He expected me to try to stand, metaphorically, solid as he pushed at and battered my will.
Instead, I shrugged. “Nevertheless.” I had not become a son of Amber until I’d lived centuries as something quite different. I had been Prince Martin of Rebma long before my father became King of Amber, and I was Rebman still.
Merlin didn’t understand the Rebman part of me, either, because no one in the Courts of Chaos had ever actually noticed that Rebma was a separate entity from Oberon’s realm. Merlin had visited Rebma and met my grandmother, but he didn’t understand because he was really good at not seeing anything inconvenient.
I doubted Rinaldo understood anything of water, of Rebma, or of always being the weaker party militarily and diplomatically. I’d come to Amber by way of the Courts of Chaos, realms where I was personally vulnerable, and my time there had taught me a different type of patience, that of small and careful applications of force. More active than the way water wears at things and seeps inside but still subtle. Very few people in the Courts had realized that water takes away a little of everything it touches, so they hadn’t realized I was learning.
No. They hadn’t realized what I was learning. They hadn’t thought I’d be able to walk away whole. Except for Merlin and Dara, they hadn’t thought I’d be able to walk away at all.
Rinaldo certainly could break me. It was just that I had time before he figured out where I was actually vulnerable. Then I’d have a little more time while he tried to figure out how to use that knowledge without crossing lines that would upset Merlin.
I was going to cross those lines when the time came. I’d regret Merlin, deeply, and Dara and House Sawall would never forgive me, but...
My father and Vialle on Amber’s throne would always be better for Rebma than some other King and Queen, and my father’s reign rested on the shoulders of aunts and uncles who would die because Rinaldo didn’t care that his father had been a lunatic, homicidal asshole who had planned to rip reality apart.
Rinaldo had to have been young when his father died.
“Merlin doesn’t want anyone to die.” Rinaldo’s words were almost inaudible. He shook his head minutely. “He thinks the family is too small already.”
“Have you ever been to the Courts of Chaos?” It might matter, and Merlin might have taken him there. Not to Sawall because I had friends there who would have told me if Merlin had brought a lover to visit.
Whether they were or not, Merlin would have had to identify Rinaldo as a lover or as kin in order to bring him inside Sawall. I had only gotten in, before Patternfall, because Dara’s husband accepted me, officially, as Dara’s toy. He’d known who I was, but granting me guest status on grounds of Dara being Benedict’s granddaughter and me being Benedict’s foster son would have been politically awkward.
“Once or twice,” Rinaldo said in a way that made me think that he’d spent more than a little time there. “Merlin’s not wrong about the numbers.”
“Oberon was afraid of grandchildren. He told me so.” I had already known, when Oberon told me that, that he needed my help, so it hadn’t been quite as terrifying as it might have been. “He also said that he’d allowed me as…” I tried to recall Oberon’s exact words. “Yes. ‘Proof of concept.’” I was almost certain that that part was bullshit. Oberon had allowed me because my mother had been an only child.
Queen Moire, my grandmother, had that much influence. That and Oberon very much didn’t want Aunt Llewella on Rebma’s throne. Grandmother seldom made decisions based-- entirely-- on spite toward Oberon.
If my mother had lived to have other children, I’d probably have died, either on the Pattern or of some accident in Shadow when I took my first steps alone.
Supposedly alone. Llewella had guarded my back for a very long time. At the time, I’d thought she was fussing over nothing. That was before I met Oberon.
Oberon hadn’t understood water, either.
I met Rinaldo’s eyes. “The old man didn’t know about you, obviously.”
“Merlin liked Oberon.”
“Merlin likes everyone. It’s by no means a sign that any of us are trustworthy. Or merciful.”
Rinaldo winced and didn’t argue the point.
I supposed that knowing Uncle Dalt meant knowing too much about Oberon being cruel. I gave Rinaldo a smile that I’d learned in the Courts. I’d used it a lot over the years. It made me look like an overly clever teenager who thought I was putting something over on the world.
Using it was a gamble because Rinaldo might recognize it as a ploy which would tell him that I was capable of such things.
For the briefest moment, I saw calculation in Rinaldo’s expression, but it vanished before I could figure out his conclusions.
“I could let you sit here for a very long time,” he said.
I took that as the threat it was. “Then I will sit.”
Merlin had given me a very large library and a lot of games. He’d given me exercise equipment and musical instruments. I could keep myself busy enough to stay mentally stable. For a while.
“There are other things I could do.”
I raised my eyebrows. I knew it wasn’t a bluff, but I wanted to see his hand.
“Merlin doesn’t want to know,” Rinaldo said. “As long as he can overlook the signs or think that whatever happened didn’t cause permanent harm--” He shrugged with one shoulder then swept that arm around to indicate the cave in its entirety. “Merlin’s definitions of ‘permanent harm’ are really fucking weird.”
I considered pretending to misunderstand then decided that Rinaldo wouldn’t believe me that ignorant. “Merlin’s done triage on that all his life. So much distance costs so much by this road and so much by that. Standing still--” I gave a shrug of my own. “That only leads to getting pulverized, so he eyeballs the costs, judges what he’ll get and what he wants, and commits.” I cleared my throat. “Right now, he pretty clearly wants you.”
Imprisoning me was a lot more about limiting Rinaldo’s options for doing things to me than it was about keeping me out of trouble. That Rinaldo had let Merlin do it told me how much Rinaldo valued Merlin.
He straightened a bit. “He wants you, too.”
That was pretty obvious, so I nodded.
“And you’re counting on me wanting to give him you.” There was a deep bitterness in Rinaldo’s words.
“You knew I would,” I said. “You knew because it’s all the protection either of you have left me.” I wondered if he’d try to hurt me physically this time. If he did, I would have to fight hard enough to be convincing but not hard enough to be frightening.
And not hard enough to risk damaging anything Merlin had built to keep me alive. If we cracked a wall or a pipe or a filter-- I’d just have to be very careful. I doubted Rinaldo had even thought about how easily he could kill me that way. Mostly because Merlin would be pissed as hell if either of us damaged his work.
“Do you want Amber?” I asked.
He stared at me for half a second then laughed.
“If you start actually killing people, our relatives are going to assume.”
“Ruling a kingdom is a gigantic pain in the ass.” He sounded like he knew from experience.
“Ruling Amber is--” I shook my head. “Amber is the ur-Shadow, so being king there is the ur-pain in the ass.” I let him hear that I knew from experience, too. “You can’t do it with just Dalt and Merlin.”
I didn’t think Merlin was playing me, Rinaldo, and Dalt in order to hand the Pattern to Mandor. Giving the Pattern to Mandor might be the price of what Merlin actually wanted, but it wouldn’t be the point.
“I don’t want Amber,” he said.
I stared at him until he fidgeted. “Finish your father’s plans then?”
He shook his head. “I could-- at least the destroying things part-- but the existing Pattern does everything I need it for.” His expression became just a little harder, just a little grim. “I want all of them to suffer.”
‘Them.’ I was apparently not included among the targets, but I’d been right that Rinaldo knew what his father had been and why he’d needed to die. That made even feigned sympathy harder.
We’d all lost people.
“What would be enough?” I expected that he’d find that nothing was, but maybe, if he quantified it, he’d be able to stop somewhere short of disaster. “You can’t take a parent for a parent because none of them have living parents.”
I was pretty sure most of them had celebrated, privately, after Oberon’s funeral.
I supposed I should be glad that Rinaldo wasn’t thinking of the pain he might cause other relatives by hurting me. There was more than one member of the previous generation who would suffer if Rinaldo tortured me for revenge upon them, if they knew it was happening. Just not anyone he particularly wanted to hurt, but... I was leverage in that way, too.
Merlin was a terribly thin protection against that prospect.
“I want vultures feasting on their livers,” Rinaldo said with some vehemence. “I want them knowing it’s coming and how much it will hurt and that they can’t stop it from happening again.”
I recognized the allusion from one of the books Merlin had left for me. I wondered if Merlin had meant it as a message. “That sounds like a hell of a lot of work and a hell of a lot of risk. Seriously,” I added as he gaped at me. “You don’t want to be in a position where the only thing keeping you from dying is our aunts and uncles worrying about what Merlin will do after. Not one of them will understand the risk.”
I didn’t fully understand the risk, but I’d always known it was there.
Judging by the expression on Rinaldo’s face the notion of Merlin as serious threat had never occurred to him.
I laughed then shook my head. “You missed the other point of all of this.” I waved to indicate everything Merlin had built. “You noticed how long it took; you didn’t realize how long it would have taken anyone else. He didn’t just tell you how dangerous he is. He demonstrated it.”
Merlin had taken years but not many. Anyone else would have taken decades, possibly longer. I wasn’t sure Dworkin could have done it, and he was the best comparison I had. There was no way in hell Merlin would build something that would break if Merlin bled on it.
Well, maybe he would, but he’d do it deliberately. Dworkin-- As far as I could tell, the Pattern just kind of happened to him. He studied it afterward, and he used it, but he hadn’t had design parameters.
I felt a little chill as I wondered what else Merlin had built. I didn’t know how much time he’d had or what he’d had to work with. He’d been in Shadow. I’d let myself forget that what happened in Shadow could be real, too.
More fool me.
Merlin trusted Rinaldo not to fuck him over. Apart from me, he didn’t trust anyone else on our side of the family that far. He liked some of them well enough, but that wasn’t anything like the same.
This damned cave might be Merlin’s ultimatum for me and Rinaldo both. Play nice, or I’ll build something that makes you. Before this, I hadn’t even considered that Merlin could.
He didn’t want to, but he could.
Rinaldo spent several seconds considering that. “Demonstrating only works if I have basis for comparison.” He sounded a little tentative.
“Does Merlin realize you don’t?” I made the words gentle because I was pretty sure Merlin didn’t realize. He wasn’t nearly as good with people as he was with other things. I sighed. “You have to have noticed that he’s not-- He’s not incapable of social manipulation, of politics and intrigue. They’re just… hard for him.”
Merlin was better at the manipulation part than I’d given him credit for, but Rinaldo didn’t need to know that.
I closed my eyes. All I wanted was for Rinaldo to leave so that I could think. No. So that I could not think for a while. I was probably going to crack a bottle after this. “Do what you came for,” I told him, my voice steady. “Whatever it is that you think is going to move me toward cooperating.”
“When I came in here,” he said, “I wasn’t sure what would move you.” He hesitated. “I’m still not sure. You’re not what I expected.”
Rinaldo was more or less what I’d expected, so I didn’t address that part. “You can’t possibly expect me to provide a map. I mean, I could-- a neat little map full of lies but including a very clear X to tell you where to dig.”
I heard him stand.
“I’d appreciate you going into your bedroom or the kitchen now,” he said.
I opened my eyes. “And if I don’t?”
“Then Dalt gases us both, and you don’t get the supplies we brought.” He studied my face. “Merlin said that I need to be patient and play a long game. I thought he just wanted more time before this part, but… He meant it, didn’t he?”
“Corpses have limited value as a long term investment.” I didn’t let myself relax. “Fertilizer is about it.” I looked up at Rinaldo. “Merlin designed this place so that I couldn’t get out without help. He also--” I shook my head.
“I’d have to work hard to torture you, wouldn’t I?” He sounded resigned.
“You’d have to plan in order to manage it.” I looked away. “You’d have to mean it and not try it on a whim. Try it on a whim, and I--” I hesitated because I hadn’t intended to threaten him this way. “I will hurt you at least as badly as you hurt me. Merlin’s not stopping you, but he’s also not stopping me.”
“So it’s a test?” Rinaldo sounded startled.
I shook my head. “A gamble. He’s hoping we’ll bond.”
“Over irritation with him?” Rinaldo still didn’t understand the ‘or else’ part, and he wasn’t going to believe me if I explained it.
“Of the options Merlin has, can you think of a better first choice?” I couldn’t. I was trying to, but I couldn’t. I stood. “If he just wanted me out of the way, he’d have asked Mandor to hold onto me. Not Dara because she wouldn’t betray me first. Mandor wouldn’t view it as betrayal.”
Mandor would view it as leverage. I’d told him no once upon a time, and Mandor had let me go because he thought he’d get another chance. Mandor could fucking well break me. I’d be his puppet-- king of Amber and Rebma both-- and Mandor would offer Rinaldo pointers on how to make the people I loved suffer.
But at least, then, there wouldn’t be any chance I could win, and it would be fast. I might not even notice. This-- Rinaldo half-assing the process-- was better for me, for Rebma, for Amber, than Mandor owning me would be, but whoever lost-- Rinaldo or me or both of us-- the process was going to take an excruciatingly long time.
Rinaldo would get vacations. Rinaldo would control the timing. Rinaldo would decide whether or not I had soap.
If Merlin had been there, right that moment, I probably would have throttled him. Maybe he wasn’t so bad at people as I’d claimed. He’d done a good job trapping me in every way that mattered. Merlin would accept being throttled because he’d know he deserved it. Also, the shapeshifting bastard didn’t need to breathe, so he could afford to let me choke him if it made me feel better.
I headed for my bedroom and sat on my bed with my back to the door while the door sealed itself behind me. I hadn’t been so alone in a very, very long time.
Maybe Merlin thought there was a way for all three of us to win. I just couldn’t see it.