He had been having one of his melancholy spells, had snapped out of it one day and ridden off. Later, though, when I had asked after him, no one had any idea as to his whereabouts. Brand had still been in Amber when I had departed.
I lay stretched out on my bed, smoking and thinking. I closed up shop with that hand and went home. He looked like hell, and he seemed to be chained or tied to something. Then the face rearranged itself and I saw that I was right. The Jack said, "Random." Then its face blurred and it said, "Help me." I began getting a feel of the personality by then, but it was weak. The Jack of Diamonds began talking to me. I wanted to be an irresponsible nonentity and just enjoy myself. That can get either boring or difficult fairly quickly, depending on how responsible you want to be. This time, I was not looking for a place where I would be especially important. It was a long ride - I will not bore you with the details - and it was pretty far from Amber, as such things go. He had called me, and it was quite possible that I would be cutting his throat by letting anyone back in Amber in on the fact that he had gotten the message out. So I suppressed my impulse to yell for reinforcements. You will have to come the long way around."
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All this changed one night when I was sitting there with a full house and the guy across from me was trying to make up his mind whether or not I was bluffing. Sort of postcard like hellos via the Trumps every now and then, and that was about it. I spent a little over two years in Texorami, happy. Guys like me living around the edges of things. Sailors and assorted travelers passing in and out. Gentlefolk, merchants, and peons - the same straights as in most other places. Lots of good port smells - spices, coffee, tar, salt - you know. Palm trees and night-blooming wallflowers. Well, anyhow, there I was in Texorami, making music and women, winning at cards and jockeying around the sky.
Hell of a way to go, you know? His throat. He started a nasty argument over it one night - could have gotten serious - but Gerard and Caine broke it up. If you kept beating him at anything you had to be cheating. The trouble with him was that he was good at so many things he wouldn't admit even to himself that there were some things other people could do better. He once accused me of cheating at cards, did you know that? And that's about the only thing I wouldn't cheat at. And that was it for the rest of the night. When I was done playing I'd go find some action, women, or cards, usually. I played drums till all hours in a basement spot up the river where the walls sweated almost as much as the customers and the smoke used to wash around the lights like streams of milk. I had a little red sail plane I used to go sky surfing in, every couple of days. Texorami was a wide open port city, with sultry days and long nights, lots of good music, gambling around the clock, duels every morning and in-between mayhem for those who couldn't wait.
Drawing back the drapes, he stared out for a time. He got to his feet, stepped over the room's other occupant, and made his way to the window. "Plenty of noble Amberites around with possible motives. Finding out where he was seemed of first importance. I did not ask him how he was managing it without my Trump. It could have been that my subconscious - which was kind of footloose at the time - just seized on the available props out of habit. Ordinarily, of course, we get the message empty-handed, unless we are doing the calling. I decided later that it must be our mental quirk associated with the Trumps that made me see it that way when someone was trying to reach me and I had cards in my hand - any cards. Also, I was physically strung out from a long day's gliding and not much sleep the night before. I had just finished a couple very hot sets and was still kind of high. And if he did call Dad, he would look like a weakling. It occurred to me then that maybe one or more of the others had been responsible for his circumstances. Depends on what you want most at the moment. I mean, ask me another time and I might say one of the others. Well, maybe soaring has a little edge - in gliders, balloons, and certain variations - but mood has a lot to do with that too, you know. With me, Corwin, it's drumming, being up in the air, and gambling - in no special order. While sex heads a great number of lists, we all have other things we like to do in between.
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