Turning, I saw him just beyond the threshold. About five feet in height, hunchbacked. His hair and beard were even longer than I remembered. Dworkin wore a nightshirt which reached to his ankles. He carried an oil lamp, his dark eyes peering across its sooty chimney.
"Oberon ", he said, "is this finally time?"
"What time is that?" I asked softly.
He chuckled.
"What other? Time to destroy the world, of course!"

Oberon, lord liege of Amber, stood before me in his green and his gold, high, wide, and thick, his beard black and shot with silver, his hair the same. Green rings in gold settings and a blade of golden color. It had once seemed to me that nothing could ever displace the immortal liege of Amber of his throne. What had happened? I still didn't know. But he was gone. How did my father meet his end?

Green eyes, black hair, dressed in black and silver, yes. I had on a cloak and it was slightly furled as by a wind. I had on black boots, like Eric's, and I too bore a blade, only mine was heavier, though not quite as long as his. I had my gloves on and they were silver and scaled. The clasp at my neck was cast in the form of a silver rose.
Me, Corwin.

Then there was Eric. Handsome by anyone's standards, his hair was so dark, as to be almost blue. His beard curled around the mouth that always smiled, and he was dressed simply in a leather jacket and leggings, a plain cloak, high black boots, and he wore a red sword belt bearing a long silvery saber and clasped with a ruby, and his high cloak, collar round his head was lined with red and the trimmings of his sleeves matched it. His hands, thumbs hooked behind his belt, were terribly strong and prominent. A pair of black gloves jutted from his belt near his right tip.

Then there was Benedict, tall and dour, thin; thin of body, thin of face, but wide of mind. He wore orange and yellow and brown and reminded me of haystacks and pumpkins and scarecrows and the legend of Sleepy Hollow. He had a long, strong jaw and hazel eyes and brown hair that never curled. He stood besides a tan horse and leaned upon a lance about which was twined a rope of flowers. He seldom laughed.

"a big, powerful man... He resembled me quite strongly, save that his jaw was heavier, and I knew he was bigger than me, though slower. His strength was a thing out of legend. He wore a dressing gown of blue and gray clasped around the middle with a wide, black belt, and he stood laughing. About his neck, on a heavy cord, there hung a silver hunting horn. He wore a fringe beard and a light mustache. In his right hand he held a goblet of wine."

Then there was a figure both like Bleys and myself. My features, though smaller, my eyes, Bley's hair, beardless. He wore a riding suit of green and sat atop a white horse, heading toward the dexter side of the card. there was a quality of both strength and weakness, questing and abandonment about him. I both approved and disapproved, liked and was repelled by, this one.

Then came a fiery bearded, flame-crowned man, dressed all in red and orange, mainly of silk stuff, and he held a sword in his right hand and a glass of wine in his left, and the devil himself danced behind his eyes, as blue as Flora's, or Eric's. His chin was slight, but the beard covered it. His sword was inlaid with an elaborate filigree of a golden color. He wore two huge rings on his right hand and one on his left: an emerald, a ruby, and a sapphire, respectively.

And then there was a black-haired girl with the same blue eyes, and her hair hung long and she was dressed all in black, with a girdle of silver about her waist. My eyes filled with tears , why I don't know.Her name was Deirdre.

Vialle is a little over five feet tall and quite slim. Brunette, fine-featured, very soft-spoken. She was wearing red. Her sightless eyes looked through me, reminding me of darkness past, of pain (...)
"Give me your right hand," I said. She extended her right hand and I raised it to my lips. "Thank you," I said, it was a good lunch." I turned and made my way to the door. When I looked back, she had blushed and was smiling, her hand still partly raised, and I began to understand the change in Random.
"Good luck to you," she said the moment my footsteps ceased.

She stood about a dozen paces from me, a tall, slender girl with dark eyes and close-cropped brown hair. She wore a fencing jacket and held a rapier in her right hand, a mask in her left. She was looking at me and laughing. Her teeth were white, even, and a trifle long; a band of freckles crossed her small nose and the upper portions of her well-tanned cheeks.