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  <id>tag:dreamwidth.org,2025-05-14:4227781</id>
  <title>chroniclingamber</title>
  <subtitle>chroniclingamber</subtitle>
  <author>
    <name>chroniclingamber</name>
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  <updated>2025-05-18T02:46:31Z</updated>
  <dw:journal username="chroniclingamber" type="personal"/>
  <entry>
    <id>tag:dreamwidth.org,2025-05-14:4227781:3872</id>
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    <title>9 Princes in Amber: Ch. 9 Pt. 2</title>
    <published>2025-05-18T02:46:31Z</published>
    <updated>2025-05-18T02:46:31Z</updated>
    <category term="corwin"/>
    <category term="9 princes in amber"/>
    <category term="dworkin"/>
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    <content type="html">Corwin continues trying to dig his way out of his cell via a spoon applied to the very thick wooden door of the cell. It’s extremely slow going, of course, and one wonders if it’s possible the spoon could wear out before the door is scraped through. He’s a stubborn guy with everything to lose, though, so he keeps at it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At least, until he hears someone laughing… in his cell with him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would lose my shit, personally.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It’s a small cell. There’s only one way in/out. It’s pitch black. And suddenly there’s someone there? Someone there and laughing?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don’t know, I suppose I might just assume I’d lost touch with reason.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He lights a match, a tiny light in the darkness, and makes out Dworkin – the small man who inscribed the Pattern and created the Trumps. And I cannot help it but I always picture Alan Moore when I think of Dworkin, even though Moore is not a 5 foot tall hunchback. He is, however, a wizard who could probably create an entire universe of alternate worlds if he cared to. I presume that he, like W. B. Yeats, could kick a rival wizard out of his house – literally. With his feet. Just winning a battle of magical wiles both with arcane powers and also with mighty thews.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dworkin is full of deranged giggles, which is not reassuring. He recognizes Corwin, at least, and states that Oberon locked him away. He drops a few really interesting pieces of information:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt; that he thought of a way to destroy Amber. This story line was reshuffled a bit later in the books, putting the blame on Bleys, Fiona, and Brand. Although I suppose Dworkin may have told them about it first, before telling Oberon.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt; that Oberon brought in psychologists to treat him which is just… weird. This seems like a very Of Its Time sort of detail, and also feels like Zelazny hadn’t made some important decisions about who and what Dworkin actually is… or made those decisions and then changed them.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt; that Dworkin &lt;i&gt;is able to turn people into animals&lt;/i&gt;. This is not something that really comes up again, even when we get sorcerers infesting everything. Turning people into coat racks, sure. Animals? No.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt; that he can create Trumps… of things he can’t see.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dworkin doesn’t seem to understand, or perhaps doesn’t believe, that Oberon is dead. He also doesn’t seem to notice that Corwin is in a dank, foul smelling cell with no furniture, in total darkness. He’s put out that Corwin doesn’t have “pen and parchment” and wants to nip back home to finish the book he’s reading. I can understand that. Corwin, who is extremely charismatic if you remember, sweet talks Dworkin into promising to draw him a Trump of the Lighthouse of Cabra on the wall of his cell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dworkin agrees and Corwin hands over “the stylus,” which Dworkin correctly identifies as a sharpened spoon (sharpened from being scraped against the door so often for so long). The little man quickly sketches a lighthouse on the wall, then a little study for himself (complete with a skull on the desk) on the other wall. He goes home and Corwin gets ready to move on to the next step in his sudden new plan when Dworkin pops back in with a very valid question: how can Corwin see the artwork in the dark? Corwin lies, of course, and uses up his second to last match so Dworkin can get back home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Standing there in the darkness Corwin can feel the power of the Trumps that Dworkin drew on the walls. He can’t see them, but he can feel them. They’re there, ready to be used, waiting to be used, but he needs to be able to see to use them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He has one match left.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everything in the cell is kind of damp and by “everything” I mean him, the straw on the floor, and his little mattress stuffed with straw. And the empty match books.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He manages to make a fire with the very last of his matches, though, and the Trump of the lighthouse comes alive and he walks through it and into freedom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There’s one chapter left.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a very different story Corwin would have returned with Dworkin to his comfortable cell with books and globe and skull and parchment and pens. He would have discovered some very important things a lot earlier than he actually did. That is not, however, the kind of person that he is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;References:&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;He used to bring men who showed me splotches of ink and made me tell stories about them.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt; These psychologists administered &lt;a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rorschach_test#"&gt;Rorschach Ink Tests&lt;/a&gt;, which were invented by a guy who looks a little bit like Brad Pitt.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="https://www.dreamwidth.org/tools/commentcount?user=chroniclingamber&amp;ditemid=3872" width="30" height="12" alt="comment count unavailable" style="vertical-align: middle;"/&gt; comments</content>
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