Roger Zelazny -- Jack of shadows

He glanced at the small, black man, whose lengthy limbs and antenna-like plumes of white hair above an abnormally long face gave him a multi-tactic, insect-like appearance; he respected him, for he had once been an accomplished thief who had attempted to rob the former Lord of this place.

“Then this business about the cards and the reference to shadows ties this story in at some subterranean psychological level with your Amber books, right?”

Stars dotted the darkness above a row of stalagmitical mountains.

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.

“Yes, it is fitting that your one friend should be the accursed of the gods.”

With his left hand aching upon its hilt, he moved his blade beside the pile and struck it with the flint.

It is interesting to me, too, in looking at a story across the years this way, to see it in terms of what came after as well as what preceded it.

The texture of the ground changed as he advanced, however, and soon it was smooth rock on which he trod.

The Shakespearean work to which I actually do owe a debt here came along about eight years after Merchant.

Inside, he faced them once again.

M. Stewart almost ruined Vanity Fair for me that way years ago.

It had been far ahead and to his right.

Before he was asked to kneel at the chopping block, the air about him came alive with leathery missiles that he knew to be a horde of dancing bats.

He felt the kiss upon his throat and the alb of her long hair that lay on his shoulders.

Before he was asked to kneel at the chopping block, the air about him came alive with leathery missiles that he knew to be a horde of dancing bats.

Now you all know.

He swallowed once, then said, “All right.

Allowing for a moment that you are a darksider who has emigrated into day, there are certain correspondences which force me to pursue the question of your identity.

Still, if indeed he had seen what he thought he saw lying there among the bones, then a meager measure of hope, he decided, was allowable.

The Shakespearean work to which I actually do owe a debt here came along about eight years after Merchant.

“...Yet a man in my position cannot readily bring himself to trust one who is also known as Jack of Liars.”

“Do you know of one called Jack, who always hears his name if it is spoken in shadows?”

Wearing the black skirts, cloak and tight-fitting boots he had appropriated, Jack moved onto higher ground now, occasionally crossing fields of black grasses that wrapped about his ankles and attempted to stop him.

Also, there is something of Jack's sardonic attitude as well as his caution in the later tales of Dilvish the Damned-another wrongfully punished man whose character was twisted by the act.

The one before that, I think, it was aphrodisiacs in the water coolers.

“Was the thief apprehended?”

Police lanterns set on the road caused him to slow apprehensively, seeking exit from the highway.

Those are the five wherein I worked out lots of techniques I used in many of the others.

As they neared the open side of the pavilion, Quazer touched Benoni's arm and nodded.

He picked it up by the hair, held it at arm's length and returned to where he had stood.

His clothing was dusty and there were rings of perspiration about the armpits; there was dirt beneath his fingernails, and his eyelids had a tendency to droop, close, spring open again.

I nursed an old bawd in her failing years and she taught me something of the Art.

As it is within my power to order it, I do so.—Scribe!

PEOPLE SOMETIMES ASK me whether the title Jack of Shadows was intended to sound like a description of a playing card used in some arcane game, as well as representing my protagonist's name and a matter of geography.

This was not one of my experimental books, such as Creatures of Light and Darkness, Doorways in the Sand, Bridge of Ashes, Roadmarks or Eye of Cat.

He sat in his library in Shadow Guard with its former Lord's skull an ashtray on his desk, and he labored with his project.

PEOPLE SOMETIMES ASK me whether the title Jack of Shadows was intended to sound like a description of a playing card used in some arcane game, as well as representing my protagonist's name and a matter of geography.

Are you asking for more money?”

Whatever you wish, you need but ask for it.

He picked it up by the hair, held it at arm's length and returned to where he had stood.

He attempted to circle the stone to his left, while keeping them at bay.

There came a lone, not unlike the snapping of a fingernail against a goblet, somewhere near at hand.

The forces that restore us at that place stimulated it somehow.

Later, he succeeded in slaying a small, dark-furred creature as it dozed atop a rock.

He attempted to dismiss it, but the thought kept returning.

At one point, as he stumbled and fell, he was certain that he had just awakened from sleep-walking a great distance, unaware of the area through which he had passed.

Benoni looked away.

There is something awful about eyes which never see that which they were meant to look upon.

They took Jack to the center of the compound, where the man named Blite stood with his huge axe.

Looking back upon jack in this light, I do feel that I might have gained a certain facility there for the brief, impressionistic description of the exotic which could have carried over into both Nine Princes and Jack.

“Yes, sir,” said Stab, backing away, as always, from any sudden display of emotions on his Lord's part.

“That is the trouble with bad reputations,” said Jack.

It was said to be bad luck to look back at this point.

It stood, balancing its bulk with its long tail, then waddled and wheezed its way to the edge of the ridge.

Her chin fit within the circle of his thumb and forefinger, and copper, catenary bangs flowed over matching brows like the wings of a hovering bird.

It was-
“It is the Borshin,” said the Lord of Bats, now extending his arms toward the squealing creature, which could not seem to decide whether it feared the bats or their Lord more, and which kept banging its head against the table's legs as it sought to avoid both.

Being familiar with all forms of baseness, it has become difficult for you to recognize the truth.”

Smage looked at Quazer, and Quazer batted his eyelashes and smiled.

“I will have a bath sent around later, and some fresh garments.”

Jack bathed, soaking himself for a long while in the lukewarm water.

After a moment he emerged, vanished into the other room, passed from there into the bathroom.

“You may tell it to our patron, the Lord of Bats,” he said.

I nursed an old bawd in her failing years and she taught me something of the Art.

On one side or the other, he felt that something was amiss, although he was not certain what or why this was.

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.

Now, the Hellflame was on display for all to regard, but the fact that Jack was seen looking at it was cause for much consternation.

After a moment, the heat grew oppressive and Jack felt beads of perspiration begin upon his forehead.

“Lord,” said the Baron, “this has always been a disputed border-and you must bear in mind, too, that I have been pursuing this man across my own realm.

He sighed and grinned faintly as he was waved on by the scene of a three-car accident, where a man and woman were being borne on stretchers toward a gaping ambulance.

A ring-bearded hunchback, whose squint made lines on a face as brittle as the parchment he took up, flourished a quill and began to write.

A ring-bearded hunchback, whose squint made lines on a face as brittle as the parchment he took up, flourished a quill and began to write.

He had no desire to become fertilizer.

Turning, he had made his way up streets where beer cans rolled on the sidewalks and garbage spilled from the spaces between buildings.

Turning, he had made his way up streets where beer cans rolled on the sidewalks and garbage spilled from the spaces between buildings.

“It is a singularly unattractive piece of rock, or perhaps the egg of a giant dung beetle.

While I do enjoy playing an occasional literary puzzle game, I wrote Jack of Shadows before I came to PALE FIRE.

“Begin with mercy and your name may one day be venerated,” she said.

Smage shifted his weight from foot to foot and tugged at his mustache until the tears rose in his squarish eyes and he began to blink.

One by one he would seek them and have his revenge upon them, beginning with the lesser and building his power as he went, until the encounter with the one who even now might be too near for safe dreaming.

I was beheaded-wrong fully, I hasten to add-and I am just now re turning from Glyve.—But what of you?

I was beheaded-wrong fully, I hasten to add-and I am just now re turning from Glyve.—But what of you?

I waited for you for a long while, and then I learned of your beheading at Igles.

“Bind his hands behind his back,” said Benoni.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, belched lightly, returned his gaze to the east.

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 mashed out his cigarette while she undid her parcel of belongings.

It was difficult to raise his right hand and grope for the bag at his belt.

She wore a loose, black garment, short-skirted, belted at the waist, and clasped at her left shoulder with a silver brooch.

During this time, Quazer had said, “We compete beneath the banner of the Bat.”

I'm betting that's evidence that you are holding-and I am certain that more will turn up.

They began to pierce his guard, little nicks and slashes appearing on his shoulder, his biceps and his thighs.

I will use it to end the bickering of the Lords and promote the welfare of the state that will ensue.”

Her chin fit within the circle of his thumb and forefinger, and copper, catenary bangs flowed over matching brows like the wings of a hovering bird.

The gray, bisexual giant moved through the elaborate paces of the Helldance.

The sky was gray overhead, changing to silver in the east and black in the west.

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.

2
FINE LINES OF light traced in the blackness—white, silver, blue, yellow, red-mainly straight, but sometimes wavering.

Then his eyes were drawn irresistibly back to the blade's bright edge.

The Hellflame was a slim urn of silvery fires, gracefully wrought and containing a fist-sized ruby at the uppermost tips of its blazing fingers.

He shook his head as he stared down at the bleeding creature.

Smage shifted his weight from foot to foot and tugged at his mustache until the tears rose in his squarish eyes and he began to blink.

But I never thought this meant bloodshed.

“They are bloodstains, aren't they?”

But Jack's character undergoes an interesting progression, which owes something to Shakespeare's portrait of the bloody Scot.

“Your name was strangely entered in the book of Ells,” said the Lord of Bats, “for that of another was blotted out above it.”

The hairless member was white, shiny and blotched with blue marks.

“Your name was strangely entered in the book of Ells,” said the Lord of Bats, “for that of another was blotted out above it.”

Distraction complete, he decided, moving up along her rib cage and inward, slowly, toward the buttons of her blouse.

There could be no going back to hone it if it was a blunted sword he bore.

“There must have been something to all your boasting-that you were not a mere darksider, but a Lord, a Power, albeit a poor one,” she said.

It bathed the vehicle, and its winds caused it to sway, while its bolts of lightning showed him the skyline he as leaving.

He cracked its bones with his teeth and sucked the marrow from them.

He cracked its bones with his teeth and sucked the marrow from them.

It was the focus of the Shield forces-that sphere held perpetually away from dayside's light-and someone should be seeing to its maintenance Where were the seven Powers of the listing in the Book of Ells, whose turn it would be to run Shield duty?

“Then this business about the cards and the reference to shadows ties this story in at some subterranean psychological level with your Amber books, right?”

Wearing the black skirts, cloak and tight-fitting boots he had appropriated, Jack moved onto higher ground now, occasionally crossing fields of black grasses that wrapped about his ankles and attempted to stop him.

Then, for a long while, he dwelled half-aware in the borderland between sleep and wakefulness.

But could it be, he wondered, more than simply a botched job?

Looking back upon jack in this light, I do feel that I might have gained a certain facility there for the brief, impressionistic description of the exotic which could have carried over into both Nine Princes and Jack.

You will be bounded now to your ultimate destruction.”

Fear took root in his bowels and blossomed within his stomach as Tack recognized the voice.

Fear took root in his bowels and blossomed within his stomach as Tack recognized the voice.

Jack retreated four paces and braced his back against the stone as it came toward him.

What did you do with my pale gold diadem of turquoise stones, my fourteen finely wrought silver bracelets, and my sack of moon-bars which numbered twenty-seven?”

Jack supplied himself with the bread, cheese, wine and change of clothing which were available there.

Maybe the Broken Tower...

It happened as he neared a shattered tower that a piece of the darkness broke away and dropped toward him, moving in a rapid, winding way.

“Sit and break bread with me, Jack,” she said.

Through breaks in the cloud-cover, he made out familiar constellations.

He broke into a run, knowing that his absence would not remain unnoticed much longer.

I am the breaker of the Compact.

He rose slowly, requiring air but wishing that he could forego breathing for a time.

He breathed deeply and listened for the sounds of pursuit.

He rose slowly, requiring air but wishing that he could forego breathing for a time.

The Hellflame was the bride-price her father had set, and he vowed to go after it again.

Knowing he was early, he parked his vehicle in the faculty lot and removed his heavy briefcase from the rear.

It seemed as if the noxious odors of that place had come to him briefly and in their fullest intensity once again.

“Is this bright enough for you?”

Jack's eyes seemed to brighten for an instant as his mouth twitched toward an unwilling smile
“Most would agree on that point,” he said quickly.

He sighed; and with a swirl of his orange and green cloak, he turned and headed toward a brightly illuminated tent.

He shook his head to clear it, realized then that he was surrounded by mirrors and brightness.

“Bring them in,” he said to one of the guards.

Maybe the Broken Tower...

Her chin fit within the circle of his thumb and forefinger, and copper, catenary bangs flowed over matching brows like the wings of a hovering bird.

It brushed past his face so rapidly that he barely had time to react.

His buddy Quilian, too.”

One by one he would seek them and have his revenge upon them, beginning with the lesser and building his power as he went, until the encounter with the one who even now might be too near for safe dreaming.

One by one he would seek them and have his revenge upon them, beginning with the lesser and building his power as he went, until the encounter with the one who even now might be too near for safe dreaming.

The Games Master twisted his head on his bulging neck, and his amber eyes flashed as he glared first at the one, then at the other.

But he had taken scarcely half a dozen steps within the circle, when he felt a psychic stirring like something bumping, nuzzling against his mind.

Their eyes, high above the ground, were like a handful of glowing embers buried in his direction.

For a moment he forgot his hatred and smiled, the flames that burned at the back of his mind died down and were replaced by the image of the girl.

But while the setting may owe something to Jack Vance, the character doesn't.

But then you are the first who thought to circle as you resigned yourself to me.

For a time he massaged her back and shoulders, moved his hands to her buttocks.

For a time he massaged her back and shoulders, moved his hands to her buttocks.

Still, if I buy time and get closer to the light, it may not be necessary.

This way, I am able to bid you good-bye.”

“Do you know of one called Jack, who always hears his name if it is spoken in shadows?”

He could think of no calamity to call down upon the deserted ruin which had not already been visited upon it.

He had passed it and was drawing near the cleft when he heard his name called out.

I could have answered that one: Jack Vance.

“Whenever anyone cancels out, you're right there to take over his computer time.”

Unlike the other darkside Lords, whose places of power were fixed geographical localities where they reigned supreme, Jack's was more a tenuous one, and liable to speedy cancellation, but it existed wherever light and objects met to make a lesser darkness.

When the first flame arose, he used it to light the candle stub some dead man had carried.

PEOPLE SOMETIMES ASK me whether the title Jack of Shadows was intended to sound like a description of a playing card used in some arcane game, as well as representing my protagonist's name and a matter of geography.

I've long been fascinated by odd decks of cards, and I had an extensive collection of them at one time.

“What is that?” asked the other, whose fingers were caressing the pendant.

Looking back upon jack in this light, I do feel that I might have gained a certain facility there for the brief, impressionistic description of the exotic which could have carried over into both Nine Princes and Jack.

If I were to attack him with the carving knife.

If I were to attack him with the carving knife.

Surrounded by a party of armed men and caught at the center of a circle of light, he nodded slowly and followed their instructions, not saying a word al] the while.

As they moved, he occasionally caught a glimpse of that dark, handsome face, half-touched by starlight, half-hidden by the high, curved collar of the cloak he wore; the eyes within it were like the pools that form about the wicks of black candles: hot, dark and liquid.

Later, his eyes caught sight of an unnatural object in the distance.

Her chin fit within the circle of his thumb and forefinger, and copper, catenary bangs flowed over matching brows like the wings of a hovering bird.

He added aromatic powders, causing each to flame and cast smokes of different colors.

All of the walls were mirrors as were the countless facets of the concave ceiling and the gleaming floor beneath him.

When he had learned the difference between the created and the born and had discovered that his power was centered at this point in space, he had sucked power up into him through the roots of the mountain and drawn it down in a whirlwind from the heavens, so that he had glowed, dazzling, like a struck lightning rod, and engaged in creation himself.

This time, however, he was chained, so that like Morningstar-who sits forever at the Gates of Dawn-he must remain in that place forever.

This time, however, he was chained, so that like Morningstar-who sits forever at the Gates of Dawn-he must remain in that place forever.

There was the table, there was a bed and there were chairs with side-tables scattered about the various surfaces of the chamber.

The sky was gray overhead, changing to silver in the east and black in the west.

Jack's face changed as his ancient enemy's name was spoken.

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.

Cities will not be planned so chaotically that they come to this.

One by one, he ignited the charcoal within ten braziers, which stood in three rows of three, four and three each.

He picked up his bread and began to chew noisily, so as not to appear to notice the moisture which had appeared upon her cheek.

Jack supplied himself with the bread, cheese, wine and change of clothing which were available there.

She moved to the chest of drawers, closed the one which had been opened.

He swallowed the bread he had been chewing, then, “I went back,” he said.

He swallowed the bread he had been chewing, then, “I went back,” he said.

He awakened drenched with perspiration, despite the slight chill in the air.

Her chin fit within the circle of his thumb and forefinger, and copper, catenary bangs flowed over matching brows like the wings of a hovering bird.

I do feel that the shadow of Jack fell upon the protagonist of Today We Choose Faces.

Before he was asked to kneel at the chopping block, the air about him came alive with leathery missiles that he knew to be a horde of dancing bats.

Before he was asked to kneel at the chopping block, the air about him came alive with leathery missiles that he knew to be a horde of dancing bats.

He had tossed his cigarette into the gutter and seen it swept on past him.

It was perfectly circumscribed and there were no signs of life within it.

Now it was the stark light of the Everyday, not the smells and noises of the city, not the files and ranks of faces in his classrooms, not the boring meetings, not the monotonous sounds of machinery, not the obscene brightness of colors that seemed a receding dream.

There will be no clean water for miles, he thought, unless Fortune nods and I come upon a rainpool.

It is a land of filth, not cleanliness.

Now you will sleep while I sacrifice Smage upon his Lord's altar and cleanse this place of all things which displease me.

It took Jack several seconds to recognize the sound which followed, a grinding, clicking noise.

Climbing, circling, sometimes running, his hatred grew more rapidly than the hunger within him.

Climbing, circling, sometimes running, his hatred grew more rapidly than the hunger within him.

“Some say twilight, but close to the dark—where there are always shadows.”

“Some say twilight, but close to the dark—where there are always shadows.”

Jack closed his being to the inner chill.

Or the closet door...”

The sparks danced upon the dry cloth, and he continued to strike them even after the smoldering had begun.

Jack supplied himself with the bread, cheese, wine and change of clothing which were available there.

Jack supplied himself with the bread, cheese, wine and change of clothing which were available there.

Subsequent clotting might be sufficient to cause a reawakening, and the necessity to repeat the process.

There were no clouds.

The cloven hooves of the seven black riders struck sparks from the stones.

Although the hatred warmed him, it did not serve to prevent an increasing awareness that the temperature was growing colder.

Often he would awaken in a cold sweat, unable to recall what nightmare had been tormenting him.

It was pinkish in color, and it seemed to be the source of the glow.

He stared up at his giant companion Quazer-hair, eyes, flesh all of a uniform gray-rather than regard the colorful bulk of Benoni, the Games Master, whose will was law in this place.

After a time, he retreated into sleep, dreaming in bright colors of the future as he would have it.

I suppose the inferences concerning a relationship to Amber could have been strengthened, though, by the fact that this book came out between the publication of Nine Princes in Amber and The Guns of Avalon, the first two books in that series-proximity breeding speculation and like that.

He skinned it and cleaned it with his blade, and as he had not come across any kindling he ate the meat raw.

It is interesting to me, too, in looking at a story across the years this way, to see it in terms of what came after as well as what preceded it.

Before he was asked to kneel at the chopping block, the air about him came alive with leathery missiles that he knew to be a horde of dancing bats.

The Shakespearean work to which I actually do owe a debt here came along about eight years after Merchant.

“I wonder if you're coming around yet?” he mused.

I was standing there waiting for a guard to come by.

He managed to hurl all three stones which he carried before it was out of sight, coming close to hitting it with the second one.

He felt a strong force come into him, and with it a compulsion to move forward.

He did not hear his name spoken again, but he wondered whether there was any connection between the words he had heard and the riders who had come near.

What came off certainly looked like dried blood.”

On one such excursion he was attracted by a pale red glow coming through a cleft in the rock to his right.

While I do enjoy playing an occasional literary puzzle game, I wrote Jack of Shadows before I came to PALE FIRE.

How did this come to light?”

“I took it as a task you had set me to, not an offer open to all comers.”

Out of this wretched land and into a place of comforting shadows?

Had the Lord of Bats sent it to find him, or was it following its own feelings, conditioned as it was to hate him?

Congratulations!”

10
AFTER SOLVING ALL boundary problems involving Drekkheim by conquering that kingdom, adding it to his own, and sending the Baron to the Dung Pits, Jack turned his attention to the Fortress Holding, home of the Colonel Who Never Died.

It was not until considerably later that he was able to finish his rations.

Smage continued to stare and blink until Quazer finally spoke in his flute-like fashion.

But since they had failed to function darkside, they had been of no use to him except as trinkets to pass on to tavern girls as amulets of great contraceptive power.

The air about him was cooler than he found comfortable.

There came an immediate cooling.

At the sight of her coppery hair and her half-smile he was, for a moment, almost startled into believing.

“If by “honest answer” you mean for me to say what you want me to say, whether or not it is true, then I would say that you are correct.”

There on his crag, couchant, unmoving, he faced the east.

They'll cough up if it means a job to them.”

They'll cough up if it means a job to them.”

Coughing, he entered it.

Forty or fifty painful steps-he had lost count-brought Jack into a position where he could see the far side of the boulder.

Traveling far enough, one comes to the center of the world, which is not molten—which contains the Machine, with great springs, as in a clock, and gears and pulleys and counterbalances.

The perspiration appeared on Jack's brow as step by step he fought; and step by step he advanced in a counterclockwise spiral toward that which summoned him.

“Of course!

Then Rosalie's words had returned to him, and he determined his course of action.

The moss covered the boulder entirely.

There were cracks and crevasses from which the odor of sulfur dioxide constantly arose.

He heard the crackling of fires begin suddenly at his back, and he felt a rush of heat.

Then, after several heart beats, he heard a scream high overhead, followed by a final crashing note somewhere in the court yard to his left.

“You certainly stick in Professor Weather-ton's craw.

I had heard that you were friendly with criminals-but then you had written some articles on criminology and were teaching a course on the subject.

Beast!” he croaked.

For a long while he sat on the hilltop cross-legged, reading.

They moved along the torchlit way that crossed the compound, heading toward the pavilion of the Hellflame.

Using the blade as a pointer, he said, “Do not cut crosswise, so.

He could feel it hungering for him, and he was kicking bones aside and hearing them crunch beneath his boots as he moved to the rear.

He crushed out his cigarette, and as though this were a signal, a soft, sickening music slithered from out of a speaker set high on the wall above the bar.

It was a crushed slug, a thing that had been frozen and thawed before it was fully baked.

My Shadowjack!” came the cry.

As they released them and cried out, they were blinded by a flash of white light which occurred just a brief distance above their heads.

“Yet when he is in a position to grant it himself, those who withheld it previously cry out for it.”

He thought he recognized two of them from his Introduction to Cultural Anthropology of several semesters back, but they did not look up as he went by.

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 cursed then, knowing that his enemy had sent his minions to mock him in his passing.

“I am neither a simulacrum nor am I your Lady,” she said with a smile, curtseying.

As they moved, he occasionally caught a glimpse of that dark, handsome face, half-touched by starlight, half-hidden by the high, curved collar of the cloak he wore; the eyes within it were like the pools that form about the wicks of black candles: hot, dark and liquid.

Also, there is something of Jack's sardonic attitude as well as his caution in the later tales of Dilvish the Damned-another wrongfully punished man whose character was twisted by the act.

Also, there is something of Jack's sardonic attitude as well as his caution in the later tales of Dilvish the Damned-another wrongfully punished man whose character was twisted by the act.

He drank the wine and refilled the flask with water, damning the smallness of the container.

Before he was asked to kneel at the chopping block, the air about him came alive with leathery missiles that he knew to be a horde of dancing bats.

Her fingers moved like dancers on the strings of the palmyrin.

“Some say twilight, but close to the dark—where there are always shadows.”

Though his mind sometimes darkened, he now maintained the semblance of normalcy within his ever-lit prison of mirrors.

Though his mind sometimes darkened, he now maintained the semblance of normalcy within his ever-lit prison of mirrors.

This was not one of my experimental books, such as Creatures of Light and Darkness, Doorways in the Sand, Bridge of Ashes, Roadmarks or Eye of Cat.

She had said that she would wait forever, that day he had departed for Igles and the Hellgames there.

Finally, after running (for it was a long thoroughfare), he emerged with temporary deafness, shortness of breath and a headache.

Jack nodded and studied the decapitated hill.

In this, my tenth book, I'd decided to try for something on the order of those rare and exotic settings I admired so much in so many of Jack Vance's stories.

“I've a suspicion that once your latest project has been deciphered, it will be found to have little to do with the social sciences.”

I've long been fascinated by odd decks of cards, and I had an extensive collection of them at one time.

Surely, whatever the internecine warfare of the moment, no Power would fail to observe a Shield truce when the fate of the entire world depended on it.

He desired the bauble.

The keys are on my desk and the door locks when it closes.

These held it in an unbreakable grip, and the gemstone glimmered coolly despite them.

Staring straight ahead, however, he detected something of a movement from the corner of his eye.

Detecting nothing, he entered.

He detested such rude living, although there were those among his acquaintances who preferred it to the more civilized.

Know that dying is just as hard for one of us as it is for one of you.”

Later, he noted with satisfaction that the sounds of feet had died away.

For a moment he forgot his hatred and smiled, the flames that burned at the back of his mind died down and were replaced by the image of the girl.

Had they done it differently, he might have been less aggrieved.

Before he could take advantage of shadows, the light dimmed and darkness came again.

There were cracks and crevasses from which the odor of sulfur dioxide constantly arose.

The other extinguished the flame and dipped the pendant into the water decanter.

His clothing was dusty and there were rings of perspiration about the armpits; there was dirt beneath his fingernails, and his eyelids had a tendency to droop, close, spring open again.

He had discarded the quinopolus, and the belled cap had gone into the chamber pot.

Bones showed through the transparent flesh of its torso and its short legs were thick as trees, terminating in disk-shaped pads from which dozens of long toes hung like roots or worms.

The leader-a short, hairless man of tremendous girth-dismounted and moved for ward.

Now you will sleep while I sacrifice Smage upon his Lord's altar and cleanse this place of all things which displease me.

It would be hard to dispose of.

Then, like a man who has been sitting for hours and rises too quickly, a wave of dark dizziness rushed through his head.

This was a more workmanlike job in that I knew exactly what I wanted to do and how to do it, with the protagonist-as usual-indicating the direction.

But I would enjoy telling Doc Quilian where to put his offer.”

Doctor Shade!”

“Even if I am he who you have named, I have done nothing to give offense.”

Struggling with his memory as he would with a warehouse door, he entered and sought.

This was not one of my experimental books, such as Creatures of Light and Darkness, Doorways in the Sand, Bridge of Ashes, Roadmarks or Eye of Cat.

Stars dotted the darkness above a row of stalagmitical mountains.

The last time I was down in the catacombs I couldn't locate any connection.

Morningstar raised it, drained it, and dropped it at Jack's feet.

He felt his strength draining away.

As he passed Drake Hall, he heard his name called out.

He wore gray garments, and a black cloak was draped over his right shoulder.

The Lord of Bats kicked it and the grip was broken; but before it drew away and moved to cross the other arm, shielding the face.

He had passed it and was drawing near the cleft when he heard his name called out.

With his left hand, he raised and drew off the pendant and chain he wore about his neck.

They slowed, drew rein, and halted, perhaps a dozen paces from where he stood.

Seating her, he drew up another chair and set it to her left.

Or that drawer opened.

She moved to the chest of drawers, closed the one which had been opened.

He had passed it and was drawing near the cleft when he heard his name called out.

Knowing that by now his absence must have been noted and realizing that the only thing which could stay pursuit would be a drawn-out struggle, he prayed that it would be a lengthy affair, adding the observation that the ideal outcome would entail death or severe injury for all parties involved.

He dreamed that he was back in the Dung Pits.

One by one he would seek them and have his revenge upon them, beginning with the lesser and building his power as he went, until the encounter with the one who even now might be too near for safe dreaming.

He had slept but once on his journey; and while it had been a deep, sound, dreamless sleep, he had begrudged his body every moment of it and vowed not to do it again until he had passed beyond the jurisdiction of men.

He awakened drenched with perspiration, despite the slight chill in the air.

“It's been a long while since you ate the living stone,” she said; and she passed him bread and a piece of dried meat.

Having come to the conclusion that it was unguarded, he approached it, studied it, then fell to the ground and drank for a long while.

The heat of perpetual day dropped away as he moved to the rear of The Dugout.

Before he reached the summit, the winds were screaming about him; but they did not drown out the voice of Morningstar, which rose as from the bowels of the mountain beneath him.

Jack moved past it and would have spat, but his mouth was too dry.

“It is a singularly unattractive piece of rock, or perhaps the egg of a giant dung beetle.

He eased himself along the narrow passage, resting his back against the stone between steps.

The sky was gray overhead, changing to silver in the east and black in the west.

“I am the Wise Woman of the Eastern Marches, Jack.

After catching his breath and recovering his strength, he began his eastward trek.

He ate slowly as he moved, his stomach at first protesting this strange invasion of privacy.

They ate in silence for a time.

“Yet you would use their methods to enhance your own effectiveness.”

When it sprang, he brought the blade down in a semicircle and held it before him, bracing his elbows against the stone.

He knew that the daysiders possessed mechanical and electrical devices for keeping track of time because he had stolen several of these.

It was the focus of the Shield forces-that sphere held perpetually away from dayside's light-and someone should be seeing to its maintenance Where were the seven Powers of the listing in the Book of Ells, whose turn it would be to run Shield duty?

He encamped on the driest side of the largest and slept.

The riders flanked Jack, forming a semicircle like a half-crown of steel as they enclosed him.

A semester closes like the end of the world, I guess, full of portents and rumors.

I will not enter Twilight at all, but will remain in Darkness.”

The visibility was poor, but it appeared that he had entered upon a rock-strewn plain similar to the one he had left on the other side of the mountains.

Smage paced his post, the forward entrance hall to High Dudgeon.

All of the irritants were erased, except a small hunger just beginning in his middle and hardly worth comparison with those earlier feelings, which were near starvation.

He was walking slowly to conserve his strength; and as perspiration evaporated, he felt the chill once again.

“Everywhere,” he said.

Jack flicked a glance in their direction but remained expressionless.

It has its own ways of coming and going, though I did not think they extended to this place.

He extended his being into the twisting kaleidoscopic pattern he had created.

Exulting in this, he heard the sudden chatter of the World Machine.

This was not one of my experimental books, such as Creatures of Light and Darkness, Doorways in the Sand, Bridge of Ashes, Roadmarks or Eye of Cat.

“I do have an eye condition.

Smage looked at Quazer, and Quazer batted his eyelashes and smiled.

His clothing was dusty and there were rings of perspiration about the armpits; there was dirt beneath his fingernails, and his eyelids had a tendency to droop, close, spring open again.

Smage shifted his weight from foot to foot and tugged at his mustache until the tears rose in his squarish eyes and he began to blink.

I do feel that the shadow of Jack fell upon the protagonist of Today We Choose Faces.

Inside, he faced them once again.

This quickly faded and was gone.

Release me and I will tell him that I failed, which will be no less than the truth.”

Faintly, at his back, he could hear the sound of the many-footed things that emerged to lick at them.

It infuriated him that the mortals still had a fair chance of apprehending him before he achieved a situation of power.

I do feel that the shadow of Jack fell upon the protagonist of Today We Choose Faces.

I do feel that the shadow of Jack fell upon the protagonist of Today We Choose Faces.

And again after a long while, he felt himself falling-falling as from a great height, gaining in substance, until he realized that he was lying on his back staring upward with the full weight of his being once again on him.

Shortly thereafter, he saw the place that would have to be his haven, for he could go no farther.

Shortly thereafter, he saw the place that would have to be his haven, for he could go no farther.

Do not let your hatred lead you to the machine that thinks like a man, only faster.

“Mortal man,” he began, “you fear me be cause you do not understand me.

...And he fed.

I don't care to say anything more about it, though, because I feel that introductory pieces should not spoil story lines.

For a moment Benoni studied him, sensing that feeling men know when confronting a creature born, not of woman but of an unknown darkstroke, in that place men shunned.

They had hurt his feelings by killing him in this manner.

I do feel that the shadow of Jack fell upon the protagonist of Today We Choose Faces.

And again after a long while, he felt himself falling-falling as from a great height, gaining in substance, until he realized that he was lying on his back staring upward with the full weight of his being once again on him.

It grew, filling her entire field of vision.

“I'd like to take him on a field trip sometime.

The power that had compelled him fought back, became the victim itself.

“For all my figuring has told me that only one such could have eaten the red rock.

He found it free of surveillance, approached it and drank his fill.

It seemed only fair then, once I'd worked things out, to find a title with “Jack” in it as a private bit of homage publicly displayed.

The Hellflame was a slim urn of silvery fires, gracefully wrought and containing a fist-sized ruby at the uppermost tips of its blazing fingers.

The Lord of Bats studied his fingernails for a moment.

Jack rested in his gray realm, his head clear once more, the old, familiar tingle beginning in his fingertips and toes.

When he had finished, he wiped his mouth, stood and stared down at the limp form.

I have also been asked several times whether the name that Jack assumes Dayside-Jonathan Shade-owes anything to the character of that name in Nabokov's Pale Fire.

Children at play about an opened fire hydrant had paused at their games to watch him as he went by.

The Hellflame was a slim urn of silvery fires, gracefully wrought and containing a fist-sized ruby at the uppermost tips of its blazing fingers.

Wearing the black skirts, cloak and tight-fitting boots he had appropriated, Jack moved onto higher ground now, occasionally crossing fields of black grasses that wrapped about his ankles and attempted to stop him.

Jack drew himself to his full height and fixed the Games Master with his half-lidded eyes.

He lowered the hand gently and raised his blade from the flagging.

It did not move thereafter, despite the flickering light, and grew so dark that it seemed to possess the quality of depth.

With his left hand aching upon its hilt, he moved his blade beside the pile and struck it with the flint.

The passage gradually turned to the left: then terminated abruptly, opening onto a wide ledge that stood perhaps three feet above the valley's floor.

“I think it's the flu.”

His wings lay folded flat upon his back, and Jack knew-though he approached him from the rear-that his arms would still be crossed upon his breast, left over right, that the breezes had not disturbed his wire-like hair and beard, that his lidless eyes would still be fixed upon the eastern horizon.

“You know me,” he said, folding the pages and reaching for his briefcase.

Follow me.”

Smage shifted his weight from foot to foot and tugged at his mustache until the tears rose in his squarish eyes and he began to blink.

Faintly, at his back, he could hear the sound of the many-footed things that emerged to lick at them.

Beginning low and rising steadily, the foothills soon lowered above him.

Small, sharp stones tore I into his soles, so he knew that he tracked bloody footprints as he went.

Each of these, noted individualists in life, commenced his own song at the sound of a footstep.

Know that dying is just as hard for one of us as it is for one of you.”

Or as many as there are people, for that matter?”

There is no cause for concern or foreboding.”

Her chin fit within the circle of his thumb and forefinger, and copper, catenary bangs flowed over matching brows like the wings of a hovering bird.

I am he who forged a name in the Red Book of Ells.

“You of the jackass ears and you—gynandromorph!—neither will you be forgotten!”

He moved his free hand toward it, enclosed the suspended gem in his fist.

The spell-wrought Shield kept the darkside from freezing into All-winter as surely as their force screens prevented the daysiders from frying in the merciless glare of the sun.

He seemed for a moment tall beyond measurement, frightening, noble.

The spell-wrought Shield kept the darkside from freezing into All-winter as surely as their force screens prevented the daysiders from frying in the merciless glare of the sun.

The spell-wrought Shield kept the darkside from freezing into All-winter as surely as their force screens prevented the daysiders from frying in the merciless glare of the sun.

Later, he succeeded in slaying a small, dark-furred creature as it dozed atop a rock.

PEOPLE SOMETIMES ASK me whether the title Jack of Shadows was intended to sound like a description of a playing card used in some arcane game, as well as representing my protagonist's name and a matter of geography.

He leaped forward and beheaded the gaping man who stood at the end of the arc to his right.

“You!” it said, glimpsing the shadow-garbed figure.

These held it in an unbreakable grip, and the gemstone glimmered coolly despite them.

“Then it is impossible to get an honest answer from you.”

“I suppose Weatherton got in a few shots at the resurrection of bodies, too?”

I couldn't get it all off.”

A good lay, but too eager to get married.

You should really get out more often, you know.

A thud occurred beneath the table then, followed by a gibbering sound and a brief, shrill wail.

She raised the black, silken sheathe she bore at her girdle.

“Even if I am he who you have named, I have done nothing to give offense.”

Consciousness, like the noise of the double-hundred statues of Deadfoot, was a thing of discord and contradiction, giving rise to headaches.

It was then that his concentration almost gave way to a quick blazing of emotion and nearly allowed him to succumb to the tugging of that other will.

“A moot point,” said Jack, glancing over his shoulder.

Veins of minerals glittered like glass in the starlight.

He continued to smile, studying her slightly heavy features, pinch marks where her glasses had been, a small puffiness beneath her eyes, some stray strands of hair reaching for her brow.

When it seemed that it would be dashed to death upon the mountain's slope, its wings spread and caught the air; it rose then and glided in the direction of the village in the forest near the stream.

A huge mossy boulder stood at its center, glowing faintly.

“But you are being polite about it because you are my reflection, and you know I'll go after the bloody jewel again, as soon as I know where it lies.

I went away again.”

He swallowed the bread he had been chewing, then, “I went back,” he said.

Children at play about an opened fire hydrant had paused at their games to watch him as he went by.

1
IT HAPPENED WHEN Jack whose name is spoken in shadow went to Igles, in the Twilight Lands, to visit the Hellgames.

It is pretty much like going to sleep.”

In the lower chambers of his mind, he saw the gobbets of flesh and gouts of blood and rivers of tears he would extract from them before he allowed them to die.

There was a flicker of lightning in the west, near, it seemed, to that place on the boundary where the shrines of the helpless gods stood.

You are a daysider with but one life in you, and when that is gone, you will have no more.

Good!

“Good morning, Jack.”

This way, I am able to bid you good-bye.”

Goodbye, for now.”

In the lower chambers of his mind, he saw the gobbets of flesh and gouts of blood and rivers of tears he would extract from them before he allowed them to die.

“Largest graduating class yet.”

“I brought you wine, drawn from the grape.”

Wearing the black skirts, cloak and tight-fitting boots he had appropriated, Jack moved onto higher ground now, occasionally crossing fields of black grasses that wrapped about his ankles and attempted to stop him.

He stared up at his giant companion Quazer-hair, eyes, flesh all of a uniform gray-rather than regard the colorful bulk of Benoni, the Games Master, whose will was law in this place.

Beneath it was the Great Seal of Drekkheim.

He sighed; and with a swirl of his orange and green cloak, he turned and headed toward a brightly illuminated tent.

Noticing a strange ache in his right hand, he looked down to see that he was still gripping his blade.

It was difficult to raise his right hand and grope for the bag at his belt.

Still, groping, turning, hiding, correcting its passage, coming on again, it sought him.

The ground continued to slope upward, and after a time small crops of rock began to appear.

But I've laid the groundwork.

It grew more and more difficult for him to keep his eyes open.

Although the hatred warmed him, it did not serve to prevent an increasing awareness that the temperature was growing colder.

Over a hundred leagues, he guessed.

“Have you no better way than guessing to tell the truth from a lie?”

You have been my guest.

He gulped and dropped his cup into the wastebasket.

It was a long while before the serpent fell, gutted and smoking.

“You of the jackass ears and you—gynandromorph!—neither will you be forgotten!”

“I had best be going now.

He stared up at his giant companion Quazer-hair, eyes, flesh all of a uniform gray-rather than regard the colorful bulk of Benoni, the Games Master, whose will was law in this place.

The leader-a short, hairless man of tremendous girth-dismounted and moved for ward.

Jack drew himself to his full height and fixed the Games Master with his half-lidded eyes.

“A castle of high, shadow-decked halls, invisible to your enemies and friends alike, where you would have taken that girl to spend her day with you?”

He passed into the hallway, locking the door behind him, having paused only sufficiently to steal Quilian's raincoat from where it was hanging.

On the other hand, nobody ever asked me, “Why Jack?”

He immediately had visions of the strange gemstone being passed from hand to hand by shifts of his enemy's servitors.

They did not appear to have been shaped by the forces of nature but hand-hewn by some monomaniac whose problem involved pentagons.

“Bind his hands behind his back,” said Benoni.

Beef, bread, wine and water now stood upon the table that hung above him.

There were familiar designs worked in mosaics on the floor, heaps of rushes in the corners, dark hangings upon the walls, a small central altar with a table of instruments beside it, an odor of incense in the air.

1
IT HAPPENED WHEN Jack whose name is spoken in shadow went to Igles, in the Twilight Lands, to visit the Hellgames.

Hating, he drove himself onward.

Climbing, circling, sometimes running, his hatred grew more rapidly than the hunger within him.

I've long been fascinated by odd decks of cards, and I had an extensive collection of them at one time.

I would be interested to learn what you have in mind.”

The Games Master twisted his head on his bulging neck, and his amber eyes flashed as he glared first at the one, then at the other.

He scribbled a note, reminding himself to inflict several companies of men with severe head colds and set them to patrolling the Dung Pits.

Finally, after running (for it was a long thoroughfare), he emerged with temporary deafness, shortness of breath and a headache.

He sighed; and with a swirl of his orange and green cloak, he turned and headed toward a brightly illuminated tent.

Lightninglike, apparitions of headless knights, many-winged birds and man-headed beasts passed before his eyes and faded, as well as things which left no forms within his memory; yet none of these paused to menace him.

Let it be done with one, quick, clean blow-as by a headsman's axe.”

He staggered as he beheld the heap of skeletons that were lying behind the glowing stone.

“Ha!” they usually respond on hearing this admission.

I've heard stories.”

With each heartbeat it became more difficult to think clearly.

So he waited, only slightly distracted by the growing blaze in the heavens.

He placed his foot upon the carcass and with a great, heaving twist withdrew the blade.

The blade felt heavier with each stroke.

He surveyed the pinnacles and escarpments that hedged the valley.

These held it in an unbreakable grip, and the gemstone glimmered coolly despite them.

Hell, I would have settled for the ghost if he'd gotten me in.”

“Hello,” he said.

The Shakespearean work to which I actually do owe a debt here came along about eight years after Merchant.

They did not appear to have been shaped by the forces of nature but hand-hewn by some monomaniac whose problem involved pentagons.

As they moved, he occasionally caught a glimpse of that dark, handsome face, half-touched by starlight, half-hidden by the high, curved collar of the cloak he wore; the eyes within it were like the pools that form about the wicks of black candles: hot, dark and liquid.

He glanced at the stars for guidance and hurried on, looking as he went for a hiding place from the pursuit that he knew would follow.

Fountains occasionally erupted, jetting high and spattering him as he passed.

He shuddered when he considered that at one point it abutted the westernmost boundary of that nameless realm which held High Dudgeon, place of power and keep of the Lord of Bats.

Wisps of smoke emerged from their nostrils, and occasionally they emitted high-pitched whistling sounds.

Police lanterns set on the road caused him to slow apprehensively, seeking exit from the highway.

There were many broken towers upon the plain, and one at the mouth of a pass led between high hills and into the range of mountains they faced.

For a long while he sat on the hilltop cross-legged, reading.

It was as if he were confined within an immense, luster-hoarding jewel.

“I daresay that the next thing you will tell me is that your pendant could accidentally be lost during an ocean voyage, buried, burnt or fed to hogs.”

These held it in an unbreakable grip, and the gemstone glimmered coolly despite them.

Then he took a candle from beneath his cloak, wedged it into a hold in the table and struck a light to it.

“I wonder how much longer your sense of humor will hold up?”

This was Evene of the Fortress Holding.

Gritting his teeth, he chose what he hoped to be the easiest way.

We do, however, live many times, by means of a process which you cannot share.

He counted his paces-a thousand, then a thousand more; he rubbed his eyes; he hummed several songs all the way through; he reviewed spells and incantations; he thought of food; he thought of women; he thought of his greatest thefts; he counted a thousand more paces; he rehearsed tortures and ignominies; and finally he thought of Evene.

A ring-bearded hunchback, whose squint made lines on a face as brittle as the parchment he took up, flourished a quill and began to write.

An evil smile crossed his face as he considered for the hundredth time that while men begin and end in such fashion, darksiders could claim nothing better.

But I, too, was desperate in my hunger.

In addition to being filthy, sore and tired, he now realized that he was hungry and thirsty as well.

Why spend so much effort to hunt down one person? he wondered.

Why spend so much effort to hunt down one person? he wondered.

He glanced at the stars for guidance and hurried on, looking as he went for a hiding place from the pursuit that he knew would follow.

Hurrying, he held his nose and prayed to his tutelary deities.

Hurrying, he held his nose and prayed to his tutelary deities.

Children at play about an opened fire hydrant had paused at their games to watch him as he went by.

One by one, he ignited the charcoal within ten braziers, which stood in three rows of three, four and three each.

It exhaled a longer flame, illuminating the entire crag.

Looking back upon jack in this light, I do feel that I might have gained a certain facility there for the brief, impressionistic description of the exotic which could have carried over into both Nine Princes and Jack.

And in darkness, if he can strike but just the smallest light, there will be shadows.”

“But you said that your contract was...”
“-in good order,” he said.

Jack himself had run it countless times-even in league with the Lord of Bats on two occasions.

I suppose the inferences concerning a relationship to Amber could have been strengthened, though, by the fact that this book came out between the publication of Nine Princes in Amber and The Guns of Avalon, the first two books in that series-proximity breeding speculation and like that.

“Yes,” they said in unison.

“I might suggest that you never desired me for a son-in-law and that you obtained an understanding with the late Lord of High Dudgeon as to how the situation might best be settled.”

Inclining her head, she followed his gesture.

Occasionally, I will introduce certain items and remove them again-items which will come to occupy his thoughts more and more as time passes, inducing periods of depression and times of fury.

When that which is foreseen comes to pass, the inquirer is no longer the same person he was when he posed the question.

It was in .the nature of an underlying sense of interconnectedness, which was not present in day's full glare.

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.