Chapter 9 CHAPTER 9

My second year was no different from my first, and the end of the year also ended with a banquet.I don't want to repeat it any more, you're bound to get bored.The third year didn't make any difference either.Ryan came twice in the second year, bringing me a big bag of goodies and a mouth full of gossip.Every time I tell him not to come again.In the third year, he came six times, that is to say, once every other month, and each time I would reiterate my ban, eat up what he gave me, and listen to the news he brought. Amber has a problem.Something strange passed through the shadows and appeared murderously before everyone's eyes.Of course, they were all wiped out.Eric is investigating where they came from.I didn't mention my curse to Ryan, but when I was alone, I was secretly happy that the curse had come true.

Like me, Langdon remains Eric's prisoner.His wife accompanied him.The situation of the other siblings has not changed much.I made it through my third year of coronation almost feeling alive again. it…… it!One day, it appeared.I was ecstatic, so I immediately took out the last bottle of wine and the last pack of cigarettes that Ryan had brought, which I had saved for a long time and was not willing to open. I drank and smoked.In a sense, I beat Eric.It's a great feeling.Of course, once this matter is discovered by him, there will definitely be devastating consequences.But it's clear to me that he doesn't know.

So I smoked, drank, and enjoyed myself, intoxicated by the wonderful light in front of me. Yes, light. I noticed a small patch of light somewhere on my right side. Well, let's just say I woke up in a hospital bed and found that I was almost cured.Do you know what I mean? I recovered faster than others.All the princes and grandchildren of Amber have this ability. I survived the plague, and I survived the winter of the Moscow march. My body tissue regenerates faster than anyone I know. Napoleon once noticed this.So did General MacArthur. When nerves are involved, it takes longer.that is it.

A spot of light somewhere on my right, oh, that lovely little light, it means my eyesight is coming back. After a while, I discovered that it turned out to be a hollow grille on the cell door. My fingers found new eyes.It took more than three years to grow these eyes, but I finally did it.This is the one in a million chance I mentioned earlier.Eric probably couldn't do it himself, because the family members have different strengths and abilities.Now that I know I can grow new eyeballs, it makes me feel like I totally beat him.I've always known that, given enough time, my nervous tissue can regenerate.My spinal column was injured in the Franco-Prussian War, which left me paralyzed on the left side.After two years, I recovered.After the eyeball was burned off, I hoped—and I admit it was wildly hopeful—that I could do it this time.I did it.They feel fine to the touch, and their eyesight is recovering little by little.

When is the next anniversary celebration?I stopped and my heart beat faster.Once anyone sees my eyeballs, I'll lose them again. So, I had to escape before the end of the fourth year. How to escape? I hadn't really thought about it until now, because even if I escaped the cell, I couldn't escape Amber.Not to mention Amber, I don't even want to go out of the palace.This is absolutely impossible without the help of eyesight or other people.Before that, I had neither of these things. But now... The cell door was large and thick, reinforced with copper bars, and had only a small grate about five feet above the ground.From there, if anyone wants, they can see if I'm still alive.Even if I could pry the grill off, I wouldn't be able to reach the lock.There was also a hinged door at the bottom of the door, barely big enough for food to get through, and not very useful.The hinge that holds the gate is either on the outside or between the door and the jamb, I can't figure it out.In either case, I couldn't reach it anyway.In addition, there are no other doors and windows in the cell.

Aside from a reassuring gleam of light filtering through the grille, I'm actually not much different from when I was blind.I know my vision is not fully restored.It will take a long time.But even if my eyes are intact, it still feels dark here.I know that, I know what Amber's dungeon is like. I lit a cigarette and walked back and forth, evaluating all my belongings to see if there was anything I could use.Clothes, sleeping mats, nasty wet straw, and I have matches.But I quickly gave up trying to light the straw with a match.Even if I did, I'm afraid they wouldn't open the cell door.Maybe the guards wouldn't come over at all, and even if they did, they would probably just laugh and stand aside to watch the fun.I sneaked a spoon into hiding for the last anniversary.I wanted to get a table knife, but I just picked one up and was about to hide it when Julian caught me.What he didn't know was that it was just my plan B.The spoon has been hidden in my boot.

What can it be used for? I've heard stories where the main character can dig a way out using the most fucking incredible gadgets like belt buckles (which I don't have) or something.But I have no time for the count of Monte Cristo.I must escape within a few months, or my new eyes will grow in vain. The doors of the cells are mainly made of wood.oak.There are four metal strips wrapped around it.One near the top and one near the bottom, just above the little trapdoor.The grille in the middle of the door was about a foot long, and the other two metal bars were on either side of it, running up and down to cross the first two.I know the door opens outwards and the lock is on my left.I recall the doors being about two inches thick.I can still roughly recall the position of the lock. In order to verify this, I pressed against the door hard, felt the direction of the force on the door, and found that I remembered it correctly.I know there's still a latch on the door, but that's for another day.Just insert the spoon handle into the gap next to the door frame and I should be able to lift the latch.

Kneeling on the mat, I located the lock and carved a square around it with a spoon.I scratched and scratched on the door until my hands started to ache - probably over two hours.I felt the surface of the wood with my nails, the scratches were not deep, but at least it was a start.I switched the spoon to my left hand and didn't stop until the pain was too much to do. I kept hoping that Ryan would come and see me again.If I insist, I'm sure I can persuade him to leave me with his dagger.Too bad he never showed up and I just got to keep working with the spoon. I worked day after day and got four scratches about an inch deep on the door.Every time I heard the guard's footsteps, I took my tools and retreated to the opposite wall, lay down with my back to the door, and went back to continue after he walked away.Then, against my will, I had to pause for a while.I wrapped my hands in a piece of cloth torn from my clothes, but even so, I got blisters, and when the blisters popped, the muscles underneath began to bleed.I can only stop and wait for the wound to heal.I decided to use this time to plan what to do after the breakout.

Once I've scratched enough in the door, I'll tackle the latch first.The sound of the latch being lifted would probably have attracted a guard, but I was already out by then—after the latch was lifted, just a few hard kicks towards the gate, and the place I crossed should be broken. The door lock, if you want, just leave it in the old place.Once the door opens, I'll face the guard.He carried a weapon and I didn't.But I have to kill him. He thought I couldn't see, so he might underestimate the enemy.He might be a little scared, though, if he remembered how I got into Amber.In either case, he will surely die, and I will have the weapon.I grasped the bicep of my left arm with my right hand, and the fingers actually came together.God!I'm skinny as hell.But anyway, I'm the prince of Amber, and even in this situation, I should be able to deal with any ordinary person.Maybe this is lying to myself, but I have to try.

If I succeed, I will be able to fight all the way to the trial formation with my sword.I would go through the circle of trials again, go to the center, and teleport myself to some shadow world I wanted to go to.Then I will regain my strength.This time, I will definitely not act hastily.Before attacking Amber, I will do everything perfectly, even if it takes a century.After all, I'm technically the king of Amber.Hadn't I already crowned myself king before Eric, in front of everyone's eyes?The throne is mine, and rightfully so! Alas, if only I could walk directly into the shadows from Amber!This way I don't have to fiddle with the Trial Formation anymore.It's a pity that my Amber is the center of everything, and no one can leave easily.

After a while, maybe a month or so, my hands healed.I started scratching again, and my hands were covered with thick calluses.Once, I heard the footsteps of the guards and retreated to the other side of the room.With a squeak, my food was stuffed in.Then came the sound of footsteps again, but this time outward, disappearing into the distance. I go back to the door.You don't need to look to know what's on the plate: a large loaf of moldy bread, a pitcher of water and, with luck, a slice of cheese.I put the mat in place, knelt on it, and felt the seam I'd carved in the door.It's more than half done. At this time, I heard giggles. right behind me. I turn around.Even without eyes, I can sense that there are other people in the room.There's a man standing by the left wall, giggling nonstop. "Who is it?" My voice sounded weird.I realized it was the first sentence I had said in a long time. "Run," he said, "want to run." He laughed again. "How did you get in here?" "Come in," he replied. "From where? How?" I struck a match, the light hurt my eyes, but I held back. He was not very big--perhaps "very small" would be more appropriate--about five feet tall, and hunchbacked.His hair and beard are as long as mine.Only two things stood out in that mass of fur: a long, hooked nose and eyes that were almost black in the firelight. "Tolkien!" He giggled again. "That's my name. Where's yours?" "Don't you know me, Tolkien?" I struck another match, letting the flame light up my face. "Look at it. Take off the beard and hair, and add a hundred pounds. You once put my The face is drawn on several decks, without missing any detail." "Corwin," he said finally, "I remember you. Yes." "I thought you were dead." "But I didn't. See?" He tiptoed around in front of me as he spoke. "How is your father? Have you seen him lately? He locked you up?" "Auberon is gone," I answered. "My brother Eric is now ruler of Amber, and I am his prisoner." "Then I have a higher seniority than you," said he. "I am Auberon's prisoner." "Oh? Dad locked you up? None of us knew." I heard him cry. "Yeah," he told me after a while, "he doesn't trust me." "why?" "I told him I had figured out how to destroy Amber. I told him the way and he locked me up." "That's not good," I said. "I know." He nodded in agreement, "but he arranged a beautiful room for me and gave me a lot of research tools. But after a while he stopped coming. He used to bring people here , asked them to show me some ink dots, and then I told stories based on the ink dots. It was very fun. But once, I didn’t like the story on the ink dots, and I turned the person who brought the ink dots into Frog. I wouldn't turn him back and the king got mad. I haven't seen anyone in a long time, and I'm even willing to turn that guy back again if he's still mad about that. Once... ..." "How did you get here, how did you get into my cell?" I asked again. "Didn't I tell you? I walked in." "Through the wall?" "Of course not. Through the shadow wall." "No one can walk through shadows in Amber. There are no shadows in Amber either." "Well, I cheated a little," he admitted. "How to cheat?" "I redraw a card and walk across it to see what's on this side of the wall. Oh my God! I almost forgot... I can't go back without a card. I have to Draw another one. Do you have anything to eat? Something to draw on? Paper or something?” "Have some bread," I handed him the bread, "and here's a slice of cheese to eat." "Thank you, Corwin." He wolfed down the bread and cheese and my water. "Now, if you'll give me a pen and a piece of parchment, I'm going to take back my own." Room. I'm reading a book and trying to finish it. It was a pleasure talking to you. What happened to Eric was terrible. I'll come back when I have time and we can chat again. If you see To your father, please tell him not to be angry with me, because I will..." "I have neither pen nor parchment." "My God," he said, "what kind of civilization is this?!" "Indeed. But you know, Eric isn't very civilized himself." "Then what do you have? I want to go back. I like my room better. At least it's brighter than yours." "You were honored to dine with me just now," I said, "and now I want you to do me a favor. If you say yes to this request, I promise to do everything in my power to help you reconcile with Daddy." "what do you want?" "I've always had great respect for you," I said. "I've long wanted to own one of your own drawings. Do you remember the lighthouse at the Kabbah?" "Of course. I've been there many times. I know the lighthouse keeper, Jopin. Played chess with him." "Ever since I was a man," I told him, "my greatest wish has been to see you paint this great gray lighthouse with your magic brush." "It's a simple subject," he said, "but it's fascinating. I've made a few sketches in the past, but never finished it. Things keep coming in and out. If you want, I'll I can give you one." "No," I said. "I want one that lasts longer, to keep me company in the cell, to comfort me, and to comfort those who are sent here in the future." "Good idea," he said. "What to paint with? Do you have any suggestions?" "I have a stylus here," I told him (the spoon was sharpened by this time), "and I wish you would draw it on the opposite wall so I can admire it in my breaks." He was silent for a while, then commented: "The light is terrible." "I have some boxes of matches," I answered. "I can light you with matches. If not enough, I can light some straw." "It's not ideal working conditions." "I know," I said, "I'm sorry for that, great Tolkien. But I've done what I can. Your hand-painted artwork will do much to brighten my humble life." He giggled again. "All right. But you must promise me that you will keep lighting the lighthouse when I finish. I'll draw one more, so I can go back to my room." "Agreed." I said, reaching into my pocket. There were three boxes full of matches in his pocket, and one box was already used up. I thrust the spoon into his hand and led him to the wall. "Do you think the brush is still in hand?" I asked him. "Well, it's a sharpened spoon, isn't it?" "Yes. I'll light the matches when you're ready. I don't have many matches, so you'll have to draw quickly. I'll divide the matches in two, and use half for the lighthouse and half for your own drawing." .” "All right," he said, and I struck a match, and he began to trace lines on the damp gray walls. He first drew an upright rectangle as a frame.Then, with just a few strokes, the outline of the lighthouse begins to emerge.It's breathtaking.Although he has become crazy, his skills have not deteriorated at all.I spit on the index finger and thumb of my left hand, and I only hold the bottom part of the matchstick. When I can't hold it anymore, I hold the burnt end with my right hand, turn the match upside down and continue burning.Do not light another match until it is completely burned out. By the time the first box of matches ran out, he had finished drawing the lighthouse and was painting the sea and the sky.I kept encouraging him, and every line was accompanied by my murmurs of praise. "Great, really great." Looks almost done.At this point he asked me to light another match, which was wasted on signatures.By this time, the second box was almost used up. "Now, let's enjoy it," he said. "If you still want to go back to your room, I can only appreciate it by myself." I told him, "We don't have many matches, and I'm afraid we can't conduct art criticism for the time being." He pursed his lips, a little displeased, but walked on to the other wall, and started drawing as soon as I lit a match. He outlined a small study room with a skull on the table and a globe next to it, and books lined the surrounding walls. "Well, that's pretty good." He said this just as I finished the third box and started to polish the matches in the remaining half box. It took another six, and he was finally done, before wasting another to sign his name.I lit the eighth - now there were only two matches left - and he stared at the painting, took a step forward, and disappeared. The match burned my fingers, and I threw it away. It fell on the straw, sizzled a few times, and went out. I stood where I was, feeling agitated and shaking all over.But at this moment, I heard his voice again, and I could feel him standing beside me.He is back. "I just thought of a question," he said. "It's so dark in here, how can you see my painting?" "Oh, I can see in the dark," I told him. "I've lived with the dark so long, we've become good friends." "That's what it is. I just think it's a little weird. Now give me some light, I'm going back." "Okay," I mourned my second-to-last match, "but this is the last one, and next time you come don't forget to bring your own lamp." "Okay." I lit a match, and he looked carefully at the painting on the wall, walked towards it, and disappeared again. Before the match went out, I quickly turned around and glanced at Kaba's lighthouse.Yes, I can feel that power, it's there. But is the last match enough? No, I don't think so.If I want to use it to teleport, I need a longer time to concentrate. Is there anything to burn?The straw is so damp that it probably won't light.The passage is at hand, this is my way of freedom, and it would be unbearable not to be able to use it. I need something that burns a little longer. My sleeping mat!This is a cloth cushion stuffed with straw.The straw inside should be drier, and besides the cloth can burn. I cleared half the floor until the stone underneath was exposed.Then I started looking for the spoon so I could cut the mat apart.I couldn't help yelling - Tolkien took the spoon away. I had to grab the mat and pull and pull. Finally got it out of the way.I took out the hay in the middle, and laid it in a little heap, and I put the interlining aside, too, for use in case of need.But the less smoke the better, it might get his attention if a guard walks around.However, this possibility is unlikely, because someone delivered food just now, and I only have one meal a day. I strike the last match, light the matchbox, and use the matchbox to ignite the straw. Almost missed.Even though it was the straw in the middle of the mat, they were still wetter than I thought.But at last the straw pile sparked and turned into flames.There were three empty matchboxes shared, luckily I didn't throw them in the toilet. I dropped the third box, picked up the lining in my left hand, and stood up facing the image of the lighthouse. Flames danced, illuminating the walls.I was engrossed in the lighthouse, remembering it.I thought I heard the cries of seagulls and seemed to smell the salty sea breeze.As I watched it, the place grew real. I threw the lining into the fire, and for a moment the flames died down a bit, then shot higher.My eyes are always fixed on the picture. The magic of Tolkien's pen is not lost.It didn't take me long to feel that the lighthouse was as real as my prison cell.Then it seemed to be the only real thing, and the cell was a shadow behind me.I heard the lapping of the waves and felt the afternoon sun on me. I took a step forward, my foot not in the fire. I am standing on the beach of Kaba Island, and there are many reefs on the edge of the island.A large gray lighthouse stands on the island, and its light guides Amber's ships at night.A flock of frightened seagulls screamed and hovered around me, and I laughed out loud, and my laughter merged with the rough waves, and the song of freedom sang by the sea wind flew into the sky.Amber was forty-three miles behind my left shoulder. I escaped.