Read The Road to Amber for Free Online Page B

board. The pieces were of bone—the clean white of fresh, the almost-brown of aged, bone—which were quite elegant. As we played, I realized that I liked the game.
    “A physician,” I remarked after a time.
    “Yes, think about it.”
    “I will,” I agreed.
    * * *
    And so I did. It was good to have some sort of goal. I made it a point to study extra hard for math, chemistry, and bidlogy classes. College wasn’t particularly difficult, and while I worried as to where the money for med school would come from, a distant relative died at just the right time and left me enough to take care of it.
    Even after I’d gone away to college I still rode Dorel—as sleek and shiny as ever—to Morrie’s office every year on my birthday, where we drank hot chocolate, played chess, and talked football.
    “You graduate in June,” he remarked. “Then you do an internship and a residency.”
    “That’s right.”
    “You’ve thought about the area in which you would like to specialize?”
    “I was thinking of dermatology. I figure nobody will ever call me in the middle of the night with a dermatological emergency.”
    “Hm,” Morrie said, stirring his chocolate with a delicate bone which served us as a spoon. “When I suggested the medical profession I had something a little more basic in mind. Internal medicine, perhaps.”
    A bat darted by, caught hold of Morrie’s cloak, crawling inside, and hanging upside down from a seam. I took a sip of chocolate, moved my bishop.
    “A lot of hard work there,” I finally said. “Dermatologists make pretty good money.”
    “Bah!” Morrie said. He moved a knight. “Check,” he added. “As an internist you will become the greatest consulting physician in the world.”
    “Really?” I asked, and I studied the chess pieces.
    “Yes. You will manage some miraculous-seeming cures.”
    “Are you sure you’ve considered all the ramifications? If I get that good, I could be cutting into your business.”
    Morrie laughed. “There is a balance between life and death, and in this we play our parts. For mine, really, is the power over life, as yours will be the power over death. Think of it as a family business.”
    “All right. I’ll give it a shot,” I said. “By the way, I resign. You’ve got me in fout moves.”
    “Three.”
    “Whatever you say. And thanks for the present, those diagnostic tools. I’ve never seen anything like them.”
    ”I’m sure they’ll come in handy. Happy Birthday,” he said.
    * * *
    And so I went off to a big hospital in a big city in the Northwest, to do my time. I saw Morrie more than ever there. Usually, he’d stop by when I was on the night shift.
    “Hi, Dave. That one in Number Seven. She’ll be checking out at 3:12 A.M.,” he said, seating himself beside me. “Too bad about the fellow in Number Sixteen.”
    “Ah, he was fading fast. We knew it was just a matter of time.”
    “You could have saved that one, Dave.”
    “We tried everything we knew.”
    He nodded. “Guess you’re going to have to learn a few more things, then.”
    “If you’re teaching, I’ll take notes,” I said.
    “Not yet, but soon,” he responded. He reached out and touched my cup of coffee, which had long ago gone cold. It began to steam again. He rose and faced the window. “About time,” he said, and a moment later there came the blaring of a horn from the highway below, followed by the sound of a collision. ”I’m needed,” he said. “Good night.” And he was gone.
    He did not mention it again for a long while, and I almost thought he had forgotten. Then, one day the following spring—a sunny and deliciously balmy occasion—I went walking in the park. Suddenly, it seemed that I cast two shadows. Then one of them spoke to me:
    “Lovely day, eh, Dave?”
    I looked about. “Morrie, you’re very quiet when you come up on a person.”
    “Indeed,” he said.
    “You’re dressed awfully solemnly for such a fine, bright morning.”
    “Working