To Rygat, who sits upon the Throne of Chaos,
from Ahab, Black Prince of Amber,
Greetings.

	Having bit lately had the time to sit down and take
my leisure of things, I wanted to write, and let you know
that I was healthy, for surely you were concerned.

	After leading the succesful mission to steal the Eye
from you, I was forced to waste time slaughtering a few of
your Hellmaids, who evidently lack the sense not to intrude
where they are not wanted.

	It would seem that you too lack this measure of
common sense, you who dare to dream about the Crown of our
land. I say this to place the rest of my missive in context:
we are beyond your power now. Lord Corwin has slipped your
clutches, my own power grows day by day, and before long the
remainder of the family will have reclaimed the power you
stole from them.

	We are now on guard against you; and while trickery
and base deceit have served you well, they may not do so in
the future. And woe betide you when Dworkin returns with
power, and the memory of wrongs done.... but my purpose is
not to threaten.

	I have no power to threaten you. I lack even the
desire; I have already thrown too many lives away on your
foolish machinations to wish to lead other armies against
you. Yet I feel I will, your own power and malice being such
that I will be forced to defend myself, and my loathing of
your kind so great as to make it improbable we could share
the universe in peace for long.

	I am saddened by this. I am young, and new in my
power, and the world still seems a wondrous thing. I should
hate to die this early, though death be the risk I take in
sending you this. In my 40-odd years, I have ridden from one
end of the universe to another. I have struggled with
giants, learned at the feet of masters, jeered at the fury
of the elements, and mocked the pain of my body even as I
drove it on. I have seen wonders and skills so far beyond
mine as to elude comprehension, and I hope to see more. I
have picked information from the tallest of trees, and made
bed with my own relatives; I have embarassed byself in fromt
of Unicorns and butchered those I love. And I have yet to
exhaust a fraction of the things I wish to do before dying,
or to learn a portion of the things I must someday know.

	Wht do I risk the beautiful future I see to send
trivial missives? Contempt, my dear. I would not choose to
live in such a cosmos by dint of reverencing or even
accepting you. You have chosen to make us your enemy, and if
needs be I will stake my life defending my dreams against
you.

	But as I have said, this saddens me. Look at you!
Old beyond compare, powerful beyond dreams, clearly blessed
with an intelligence to mock my own. For even a part of the
things you have seen, I would gladly pay in coin of my own
pain. I envy you your experiences.

	And in all this, what found you in the world?
Nothing at all. When you looked about to continue your
dream, all you could think of was to find another kingdom to
rule. You already held one Throne, the adulation of a
hundred sycophants, all the mortal reverence most of us
would look for. And when it did not satisfy, the best you
could come up with was to conquer more! Does the imagination
truly grow so weak as we age? Find a hobby!

	Given everything you already have, I could spend a
hundredscore years merely exploring all my possibilities. I
shall not leave those same possibilities defenseless in the
face of a tiresome old shapeshifter whose power long ago
exceeded her creativity.

	Do as you see fit, Rygat. Marshal your Hellmaids,
embitter your soul, work sorceries greater yet. You only
produce more wonders for my appreciation. Kill my relatives,
if you can, or kill me, as see if you find striving with my
death curse more congenial. It matters little. In my forty
years I have found purpose that will elude you for the rest
of your days. I do not feel you shall triumph against us,
but be that as it may, you cannot undo me. I have lived more,
in my puny span of years, than you could ever hope to. I
have done my best to make the cosmos right. You cannot take
what I have done and seen away from me, and even if you
could, you will never understand me. I outgrew you many
years ago.

	Work your magicks and schemes. All that I truly
value is beyond your power to destroy, though you may move
me to anger. You are, in the end, merely another petty
power-monger of Shadow, on a greater scale, while I remain,

				Ever my own,
					Ahab
					Prince of Amber