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This book is still written in a style of American epic, which is quite an experience to read. As opposed to book one, which was an assembly of Dilvish short stories, with the Ice Tower being the crescendo of the storyline, this one is on continuous bottle episode. Could be made into a theatre production!

Aspects of this book intertwine with some aspects of the Chronicles of Amber, which is quite an interesting insight in how Zelazny approached worldbuilding and what was interesting for him to explore.

Some plot lines were leaning too much on plot induced stupidity of characters, which makes me deduct a point, but one of the main plot twists compensate for it, bringin the total rating to 4.5/5 for me, with a caveat that I have no desire to re-read this.

The big idea I got out of this book is that not much force is required to perform a great change if the situation is volatile enough.

And, as ususal, a quote to remember the book by. This one will be a long one.

“Have you got something for me?”

“It seems that I do, if my lady has just kicked me out of bed to tell you about it. Why do we put up with it?”

“A wise man may reverse the obvious. Then again, maybe not. What is her message?”

“First, to tell you that the one who passed your post under the name of Weleand was lying. I spoke with the real Weleand earlier. He is in a stable in Murcave, keeping company with sick horses. Next, there is a possibility that your Dilvish is the one Jelerak turned to a stone at about the time ours vanished in the old records. That one was supposed to have been restored recently and distinguished himself in a border clash at Portaroy by raising the legions of Shoredan to succor that city. There is even a song going around. She sang it before she kicked me out of bed. It mentions a metal horse named Black, and it hints of a continuing feud with the sorcerer.”

“I am happy that you listened to her.”

“It was a rousing song—Now, if you will excuse me—”

“Wait. What do you think about this?”

“Oh, she’s probably right. She usually is. Her suspicions, though, are a trifle melodramatic.”

“I’d like them, anyhow.”

Rawk wiped a bit of spittle from the corner of his mouth. “Well, I’m sure it will give you a good laugh. It did me. She thinks Weleand is Jelerak in disguise and that he is trying to break into his own castle, that he is too weak from his recent injuries up North to employ his usual high-powered means.”

“How does she know what happened up North?”

“I talk in my sleep. Anyway, he knows this Dilvish is after him, she says, which is why he said what he did to you—hoping you’d slow his enemy a bit. What can you do with a woman like that?”

“Offer her your job,” Meliash said.

Short story series more than a novel; with a very special "american epic" writing, genius worldbuilding and storytelling

I have a feeling that most of the sketches in this book could have been turned into proper novels by a genius Roger Zelazny was.

In regards to the ideas I've picked up on...

A big one was how arbitrary history is and how stupid is revisionism. I wish people would internalise that idea more.

On arbitrarity of revisionism:

A question has just occurred to me,” Dilvish shouted, “with respect to identification. With these troops and gods moving about the countryside, how does one distinguish a statue of Cabolus from one of Salbacus?”

“Cabolus has his right hand upraised!” cried the short priest, whacking the other upon the shoulder.

“Should you change your mind,” Izim called out, tripping the other, “Salbacus has his left hand upraised.”

On the real issues that drive revisionists:

“Now you have the belt back, why not just call things off and go home?”

The priest quirked an eyebrow. “Surely you jest,” he said. “They started this. They need a lesson. It’s our turn, anyway. They did it to us within my lifetime. And besides, the troops are already in the field. Can’t send them home at this point without some action or there’d be trouble. No, that’s the long and short of it. Some of them should be arriving here shortly, in fact. You can accompany our band.

It will be an honor to go with Cabolus—and you’ll come in for a share of the spoils.”

Dilvish's stoicism plays into this arbitrarity in almost a comical fashion. Picking the "right side" only to realise that the right side shall continue their crusade regardless of the fact that the declared grievance was settled in their favour.

There are some cute aspects to worldbuilding, for instance, toponym Princeaton as well as one of the character referring to a very Amberian concepts of "many worlds", suggests that the events of the book may be happening in a parallel-world America (how colonialist of Zelazny to assume that Princeton is a thing in all the Americas).

And of course, Zelazny's pulpy humour amidst a stylised classical epic always gets me:

“Not a bad final speech,” Black observed. “It had all of the classical elements—the threat, the curse, the proper bravado, the invocation of the deity—”

“Great,” Dilvish acknowledged. “But if you’ll save the literary criticism for later, I’d like some practical advice: Did you just drive off an invisible creature of sufficient solidity to devour Fly?”

Almost a perfect book, the fractured nature of it just shows how hard Zelazny had to hustle to push the short stories into various magazine instead of writing novels like more privileged authors.