Some there be that shadows kiss, Such have but a shadow's bliss.

THE MERCHANT OF VENICE

PEOPLE SOMETIMES ASK me whether the title Jack of Shadows was intended to sound like a description of a playing card used in some arcane game, as well as representing my protagonist's name and a matter of geography. Answer: Yes. I've long been fascinated by odd decks of cards, and I had an extensive collection of them at one time.

"Ha!" they usually respond on hearing this admission. "Then this business about the cards and the reference to shadows ties this story in at some subterranean psychological level with your Amber books, right?"

Well, no. The last time I was down in the catacombs I couldn't locate any connection. I was simply attracted by the imagery. On the other hand, nobody ever asked me, "Why Jack?"

I could have answered that one: Jack Vance.

In this, my tenth book, I'd decided to try for something on the order of those rare and exotic settings I admired so much in so many of Jack Vance's stories. It seemed only fair then, once I'd worked things out, to find a title with "Jack" in it as a private bit of homage publicly displayed. Now you all know.

I suppose the inferences concerning a relationship to Amber could have been strengthened, though, by the fact that this book came out between the publication of Nine Princes in Amber and The Guns of Avalon, the first two books in that series-proximity breeding speculation and like that.

But while the setting may owe something to Jack Vance, the character doesn't. I took my opening quotation from The Merchant of Venice only because it seemed so apt once I'd pried it free of its context. The Shakespearean work to which I actually do owe a debt here came along about eight years after Merchant. I refer to Macbeth. True, Birnam Wood does not come against Jack, and the play contains no quote I wanted to uproot and employ here. But Jack's character undergoes an interesting progression, which owes something to Shakespeare's portrait of the bloody Scot. I don't care to say anything more about it, though, because I feel that introductory pieces should not spoil story lines. Someone named J. 1. M. Stewart almost ruined Vanity Fair for me that way years ago.

This was not one of my experimental books, such as Creatures of Light and Darkness, Doorways in the Sand, Bridge of Ashes, Roadmarks or Eye of Cat. Those are the five wherein I worked out lots of techniques I used in many of the others. This was a more workmanlike job in that I knew exactly what I wanted to do and how to do it, with the protagonist-as usual-indicating the direction. Of the five, only Creatures of Light and Darkness preceded Jack of Shadows. Looking back upon jack in this light, I do feel that I might have gained a certain facility there for the brief, impressionistic description of the exotic which could have carried over into both Nine Princes and Jack. And maybe not. But if it owes it anything, that's it.

It is interesting to me, too, in looking at a story across the years this way, to see it in terms of what came after as well as what preceded it. I do feel that the shadow of Jack fell upon the protagonist of Today We Choose Faces. Also, there is something of Jack's sardonic attitude as well as his caution in the later tales of Dilvish the Damned-another wrongfully punished man whose character was twisted by the act.

I have also been asked several times whether the name that Jack assumes Dayside-Jonathan Shade-owes anything to the character of that name in Nabokov's Pale Fire. Sorry. While I do enjoy playing an occasional literary puzzle game, I wrote Jack of Shadows before I came to PALE FIRE.

And yes, I did once do a short graphic prequel to this book ("Shadowjack") in collaboration with artist Gray Morrow, in The Illustrated Roger Zelazny. And no, nothing in that story is essential to the understanding or enjoyment of this one. It is a minor piece, and totally independent. So this is the story that Jack built-with a little help from me on the paperwork. Picture him if you will as a Figure on a playing card. Make it a Tarot. Maybe the Broken Tower...

IT HAPPENED WHEN Jack whose name is spoken in shadow went to Igles, in the Twilight Lands, to visit the Hellgames. It was there that he was observed while considering the situation of the Hellflame.

The Hellflame was a slim urn of silvery fires, gracefully wrought and containing a fist-sized ruby at the uppermost tips of its blazing fingers. These held it in an unbreakable grip, and the gemstone glimmered coolly despite them.

Now, the Hellflame was on display for all to regard, but the fact that Jack was seen looking at it was cause for much consternation. Newly arrived in Igles, he was first noticed while passing amid lanterns, in line with the other on-lookers, who were moving through the open-sided display pavilion. He was recognized by Smage and Quazer, who had left their places of power to come to compete for the trophy. They immediately moved to report him to the Games Master.

Smage shifted his weight from foot to foot and tugged at his mustache until the tears rose in his squarish eyes and he began to blink. He stared up at his giant companion Quazer-hair, eyes, flesh all of a uniform gray-rather than regard the colorful bulk of Benoni, the Games Master, whose will was law in this place.

"What do you two want?" he inquired.

Smage continued to stare and blink until Quazer finally spoke in his flute-like fashion.

"We have information for you," he said.

"I hear you. Tell it," replied Benoni.

"We have recognized one whose presence here should be cause for some concern."

"Who?"

"We must move near to a light before I may tell you."

The Games Master twisted his head on his bulging neck, and his amber eyes flashed as he glared first at the one, then at the other.

"If this is some sort of prank-" he began.

"It is not," said Quazer unflinchingly.

"Very well, then. Follow me." He sighed; and with a swirl of his orange and green cloak, he turned and headed toward a brightly illuminated tent.

Inside, he faced them once again. "Is this bright enough for you?"

Quazer looked about. "Yes," he said. "He will not overhear us."

"Who are you talking about?" asked the Games Master.

"Do you know of one called Jack, who always hears his name if it is spoken in shadows?"

"Jack of Shadows? The thief?-Yes, I've heard stories."

"That is why we wished to speak with you in a brightly lit place. He is here. Smage and I saw him only a few minutes ago. He was studying the Hellflame."

"Oh my!" The Games Master's eyes were wide and his mouth remained open after the exclamation. "He'll steal it!" he said.

Smage stopped touching his mustache long enough to nod several times. "... And we're here to try to win it," he blurted. "We can't if it is stolen."

"He must be stopped," said the Games Master. "What do you think I should do?"

"Your will is the law here," said Quazer.

"True... Perhaps I should confine him to some lock-up for the duration of the Games."

"In that case," said Quazer, "make certain that there are no shadows in the place where he is captured or in the place where he is to be confined. He is said to be exceedingly difficult to contain-especially in the presence of shadows."

"But there are shadows all over the place!'

"Yes. That is the main difficulty in keeping him prisoner."