VII

I delivered us into that eerie hall that had always been old Sawall’s chief delight in the maze.  It was a sculpture garden, with no outside light sources and small base lighting only about the huge pieces, making it several times darker than my favorite lounge.  The floor was uneven-concave, convex, stepped, ridged-with concavity being the dominant curve.  It was difficult to guess at its dimensions, for it seemed of different size and contour depending upon where one stood.  Gramble, Lord Sawall, had caused it to be constructed without any plane surfaces-and I believe the job involved some unique shadowmastery.

I stood beside what appeared to be a complicated rigging in the absence of its ship-that, or an elaborate musical instrument fit to be strummed by Titans-and the light turned the lines to silver, running like life from darkness to darkness within some half seen frame.  Other pieces jutted from walls and hung like stalactites.  As I strolled, what had seemed walls became floor to me.  The pieces that had seemed floored now jutted or depended.

The room changed shape as I went, and a breeze blew through it, causing sighs, hums, buzzes, chimes.  Gramble, my stepfather, had taken a certain delight in this hall, whereas for me it had long represented an exercise in intrepidity to venture beyond its threshold.  As I grew older, however, I, too, came to enjoy it, partly for the occasional frisson it provided my adolescence.  Now, though-now I just wanted to wander it a few moments, for old times’ sake, as I sorted through my thoughts.  There were so damned many of them.  Things that had tantalized me for much of my adult life seemed near to explanation now.  I was not happy with all of the possibilities that tumbled through my mind.  Still, no matter which ones came out on top, it would beat ignorance.

“Dad?”

“Yes?”

“What is this place, anyway?” Ghost asked.

“It’s a part of the big art collection here at the Ways of Sawall,” I explained.  “People come from all over the Courts and nearby Shadow to see it.  It was a passion with my stepfather.  I spent a lot of time wandering these halls when I was a kid.  There are many hidden ways in this place.”

“And this particular room? There’s something wrong with it.”

“Yes and no,” I said.  “I guess it depends on what you mean by ‘wrong.’“

“My perceptions are strangely affected just now.”

“That is because the space itself is folded in here, like some odd origami figure.  The hall is much larger than it seems.  You can wander through many times and witness a different array of displays on each occasion.  There may even be some internal movement involved.  I was never sure.  Only Sawall knew for certain.”

“I was right.  Something’s wrong with it.”

“I rather like it this way.”

I seated myself on a silver stump beside a sprawled silver tree.

“I want to see how it folds,” he said at last.

“Go ahead.”

As he drifted off, I thought of my recent interview with my mother.  I was reminded of everything Mandor had said or implied, of the conflict between the Pattern and the Logrus, of my father as the champion of the Pattern and intended king in Amber.  Had she known this, known it as fact rather than speculation? I imagined she could have, for she seemed to enjoy a special relationship with the Logrus, and it would surely have been aware of its adversary’s more prominent decisions.  She’d admitted that she did not love the man.  It seemed as if she had sought him for whatever genetic material had so impressed the Pattern.  Had she really been trying to breed a champion for the Logrus?

I chuckled as I considered the result.  She had seen me trained well in arms, but I was nowhere near Dad’s league.  I’d preferred sorcery, but sorcerers were a dime a dozen in the Courts.  Finally, she’d shipped me off to college on that Shadow Earth the Amberites favor.  But a degree in Computer Science from Berkeley didn’t much qualify me to uphold the banner of Chaos against the forces of Order either.  I must have been a disappointment to her.

I thought back to my childhood, to some of the strange adventures for which this place had served as a point of departure.  Gryll and I would come here, Glait slithering at our feet, coiled about a limb or riding somewhere amid my garments.  I would give that odd ululant cry I had learned in a dream, and sometimes Kergma would join us, come skittering down the folds of darkness, out some frayed area of twisted space.  I was never sure exactly what Kergma was, or even of what gender, for Kergma was a shapeshifter and flew, crawled, hopped, or ran in a succession of interesting forms.

On an impulse, I voiced that ancient call.  Nothing, of course, happened, and I saw it moments later for what it was: a cry after a vanished childhood, when I had at least felt wanted.  Now, now I was nothing-neither Amberite nor Chaosite, and certainly a disappointment to my relatives on both sides.  I was a failed experiment.  I’d never been wanted for myself, but as something that might come to pass.  Suddenly my eyes were moist, and I held back a sob.  And I’ll never know what sort of mood I might have worked myself into because I was distracted then.

There came a flare of red light from a point high on the wall to my left.  It was in the form of a small circle about the feet of a human figure.

“Merlin!” called a voice from that direction, and the flames leapt higher.  By their light, I saw that familiar face, reminding me a bit of my own, and I was pleased with the meaning it had just given to my life, even if that meaning was death.

I raised my left hand above my head and willed a flash of blue light from the spikard.

“Over here, Jurt!” I called, rising to my feet.  I began forming the ball of light that was to be his distraction while I readied the strike that would electrocute him.  On reflection, it had seemed the surest way of taking him out.  I’d lost count of the number of attempts he’d made on my life, and I’d resolved to take the initiative the next time he came calling.  Frying his nervous system seemed the surest way to ice him, despite what the Fountain had done for him.  “Over here, Jurt!”

“Merlin! I want to talk!”

“I don’t.  I’ve tried it too often, and I’ve nothing left to say.  Come on over and let’s get this done-weapons, hands, magic.  I don’t care.”

He raised both hands, palms outward.

“Truce!” he cried.  “It wouldn’t be right to do it here in Sawall.”

“Don’t give me that scruples shit, brother! “ I cried, but even as I said it I realized there might be something to it.  I could remember how much the old man’s approval had meant to him, and I realized that he’d hate to do anything to antagonize Dara here on the premises.  “What do you want, anyway?”

 “To talk.  I mean it,” he said.  “What do I have to do?”

“Meet me over there,” I said, casting my ball of light to shine above a familiar object that looked like a giant house of cards made of glass and aluminum, bouncing light from hundreds of planes.

“All right,” came the reply.

I began walking in that direction.  I saw him approaching from his, and I angled my course so that our paths would not intersect.  Also, I increased my pace so as to arrive ahead of him.

“No tricks,” he called out.  “And if we do decide we can only take it to the end, let’s go outside.”

“Okay.”

I entered the structure at a point around the corner from his approach.

Immediately, I encountered six images of myself.

“Why here?” came his voice from somewhere near at hand.

“I don’t suppose you ever saw a movie called Lady from Shanghai?”

“No.”

“It occurred to me that we could wander around in here and talk, and the place would do a lot to keep us from hurting each other.”

I turned a corner.  There were more of me in different places.  A few moments later, I heard a sharp intake of breath from somewhere near at hand.  It was followed almost immediately by a chuckle.

“I begin to understand,” I heard him say.

Three steps and another turn.  I halted.  There were two of him and two of me.  He was not looking at me, though.  I reached out slowly toward one of the images.  He turned, he saw me.  His mouth opened as he stepped back and vanished.

“What did you want to talk about?” I asked, halting.

“It’s hard to know where to begin.”

“That’s life.”

“You upset Dara quite a bit...”

“That was quick.  I only left her ten, fifteen minutes ago.  You’re staying here at Sawall?”

“Yes.  And I knew she was having lunch with you.  I just saw her briefly a little while ago.”

“Well, she didn’t make me feel too good either.”

I turned another corner and passed through a doorway in time to see him smile faintly.

“She’s that way sometimes.  I know,” he said.  “She tells me the Logrus came by for dessert.”

“Yes.”

“She said it seems to have chosen you for the throne.”

I hoped he saw my shrug.

“It seemed that way.  I don’t want it, though.”

“But you said you’d do it.”

“Only if there’s no other way to restore a certain balance of forces.  It’s a last resort sort of thing.  It won’t come to that, I’m sure.”

“But it chose you.”

Another shrug.

“Tmer and Tubble precede me.”

“That doesn’t matter.  I’d wanted it, you know.”

“I know.  Seems a pretty dumb career choice.”

Suddenly, he surrounded me.

“It does now,” he admitted.  “It was getting that way some time, though, before you got designated.  I thought I had the edge each time we met, and each time a came a little closer to killing me.”

“It did keep getting messier.”

“That last time-in the church-in Kashfa, I was certain I could finally take you out.  Instead, you damn near did me in.”

“Say that Dara or Mandor removed Tmer and Tubble.  You knew you’d have to take care of me yourself, but what about Despil?”

“He’d step aside for me.”

“You asked him?”

“No.  But I’m sure.”

I moved on.

“You always assumed too much, Jurt.”

“Maybe you’re right,” he said, appearing and vanishing again.  “Either way, it doesn’t matter.”

“Why not?”

“I quit.  I’m out of the running.  The hell with it.”

“How come?”

“Even if the Logrus hadn’t made its intentions clear, I was beginning to feel nervous.  It was not just that I was afraid you’d kill me either.  I got to thinking about myself, and the succession.  What if I made it to the throne? I’m not so sure as I once was that I’m competent to hold it.” I turned again, caught a glimpse of him licking his lips, brows knotted. 

“I could mess up the realm severely,” he went on, “unless I had good advice.  And you know that, ultimately, it would come from Mandor or Dara.  I’d wind up a puppet, wouldn’t I?”

“Probably.  But you’ve gotten me very curious.  When did you start thinking this way? Might it coincide with your treatment in the Fountain?  What if my interruption made yours closer to the correct course there?”

“It’s possible there’s something to that,” he said.

“I’m glad now I didn’t go the full route.  I suspect it might have driven me mad, as it did Brand.  But it may not have been that at all.  Or-I don’t know.”

There was silence as I sidled along a passageway, my puzzled images keeping pace in the mirrors at either hand.

“She didn’t want me to kill you,” he finally blurted from somewhere off to my right.

“Julia?”

“Yes.”

“How is she?”

“Recovering.  Pretty rapidly, actually.”

“Is she here at Sawall?”

“Yes.”

“Look, I’d like to see her.  But if she doesn’t want to, I understand.  I didn’t know it was her when I stabbed Mask, and I’m sorry.”

“She never really wanted to hurt you.  Her quarrel was with Jasra.  With you, it was an elaborate game.  She wanted to prove she was as good as-maybe better than-you.  She wanted to show you what you’d thrown away.”

“Sorry,” I muttered.

“Tell me one thing, please,” he said.  “Did you love her? Did you ever really love her?”

I didn’t answer him immediately.  After all, I’d asked myself that question many times, and I’d had to wait for the answer, too.

“Yes,” I finally said.  “I didn’t realize it till it was too late, though.  Bad timing on my part.”

A little later I asked, “What about you?”

“I’m not going to make the same mistake you did,” he replied.  “She’s what got me to thinking about all these things...”

“I understand.  If she won’t see me, tell her that I said I’m sorry-about everything.”

There was no reply.  I stood still for a time, hoping he’d catch up with me, but he didn’t.

Then, “Okay,” I called out.  “Our duel’s ended, so far as I’m concerned.”

I began moving again.  After a time, I came to an exit and I stepped through it.

He was standing outside, looking up at a massive porcelain face.

“Good,” he said.

I drew near.

“There’s more,” he said, still not looking at me.

“Oh?”

“I think they’re stacking the deck,” he stated.

“Who? How? What for?”

“Mom and the Logrus,” he told me.  “To put you on the throne.  Who’s the bride of the Jewel?”

“I guess that would be Coral.  It seems I did hear Dara use that term at some point.  Why?”

“I overheard her giving orders last cycle, to some of her Hendrake kin.  She’s sending a special team to kidnap this woman and bring her here.  I got the impression she’s intended as your queen.”

“That’s ridiculous,” I said.  “She’s married to my friend Luke.  She’s Queen of Kashfa-“

He shrugged.

“Just telling you what I heard,” he said.  “It had to do with this balancing of forces thing.”

Indeed.  I hadn’t thought of that possibility, but it made perfect sense.  With Coral, the Courts would automatically obtain the Jewel of Judgment, or the Eye of the Serpent as it was known hereabout, and that balance would certainly be affected.  A loss for Amber, a gain for the Courts.  It could be sufficient to achieve what I wanted, the harmony that might postpone catastrophe indefinitely.

Too bad I couldn’t let it occur.  The poor girl had been jerked around too much, because she happened to be in Amber at the wrong time, because she happened to take a liking to me.  I can recall once feeling philosophical in the abstract and deciding, yes, it would be okay to sacrifice one innocent for the good of the many.  That was back in college, and had something to do with principles.  But Coral was my friend, my cousin, and technically my lover-though under a set of circumstances that should hardly count; and a quick check of my feelings, so as not to be caught up short again, indicated that I could fall in love with her.  All of which meant that philosophy had lost yet another round in the real world.

“How long ago did she send these people off, Jurt?”

“I don’t know when they left-or even if they’ve left yet,” he replied.  “And with the time differential, they could be gone and back already for that matter.”

“True,” I said, and, “Shit!”

He turned and looked at me.

“It’s important in all sorts of other ways, too, I suppose?” he said.

“It is to her, and she is to me,” I answered.

His expression changed to one of puzzlement.

“In that case,” he said, “why don’t you just let them bring her to you?  If you have to take the throne, it will sweeten things.  If you don’t, you’ll have her with you, anyhow.”

“Feelings are hard enough to keep secret, even around non-sorcerers,” I said.  “She could be used as a hostage against my behavior.”

“Oh.  I hate to say this pleases me.  What I mean is ...  I’m pleased you care about someone else.”

I lowered my head.  I wanted to reach out and touch him, but I didn’t.

Jurt made a little humming noise, as he sometimes had when pondering things as a kid.  Then, “We’ve got to get her before they do, and move her to someplace safe,” he said.  “Or take her away from them if they’ve already got her.”

“ ‘We’?”

He smiled, a rare event.

“You know what I’ve become.  I’m tough.”

“I hope so,” I said.  “But you know what’ll happen.; if there are any witnesses to say it was a couple of the Sawall brothers behind this? Most likely a vendetta with Hendrake.”

“Even if Dara talked them into it?”

“It’ll look like she set them up.”

“Okay,” he said.  “No witnesses.”

I could have said that averting vendetta would save a lot of other lives, but that would have sounded hypocritical even if I didn’t mean it that way.  Instead, “That power you gained in the Fountain,” I said, “gives you something I’ve heard referred to as a ‘living Trump’ effect.  Seems to me you were able to transport Julia as well as yourself with it.”

He nodded.

“Can it get us from here to Kashfa in a hurry?” The distant sound of an enormous gong filled the air.  “I can do anything the cards can do,” he said, “and I can take someone along with me.  The only problem is that the Trumps themselves don’t have that range.  I’d have to take us there in a series of jumps.”

The gong sounded again.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“The noise?” he said.  “That’s notice that the funeral is about to begin.  It can be heard throughout the Courts.”

“Bad timing.”

“Maybe, maybe not.  It’s giving me an idea.”

“Tell me about it.”

“It’s our alibi if we have to take out some Hendrakes.”

“How so?”

“The time differential.  We go to the funeral and get seen.  We slip out, run our errand, come back, and attend the rest of the service.”

“You think the flow will allow that?”

“I think there’s a good chance, yes.  I’ve done a lot of jumping around.  I’m starting to get a real feel for flows.”

“Then we’ll give it a try.  The more confusion the better.”

Again, the gong.

Red, the color of the fire of life that fills us, is the color of mourning garments in the Courts.  I used the spikard rather than the Sign of the Logrus to summon suitable clothing for myself.  I’d a desire to avoid any commerce, even the most mundane, with that Power, for now.

Jurt then trumped us to his quarters, where he had suitable garments of his own from the last funeral he’d attended.  I’d a small desire to see my old room, too.  Sometime, perhaps, when I wasn’t rushed...

We washed up, combed, trimmed, dressed quickly.  I took on a changed form then, as did Jurt, and we went through the ritual again at this level, before garbing ourselves for the occasion.  Shirt, breeches, jacket, cloak, anklets, bracelets, scarf, and bandanna-we looked incendiary.  Weapons had to be left behind.  We planned to return for them on the way out.

“Ready?” Jurt asked me.

“Yes.”

He caught hold of my arm and we were transported, arriving at the inward edge of the Plaza at the End of the World, where a blue sky darkened above a conflagration of mourners milling along the route the procession would take.  We passed among them, in hope of being seen by as many as possible.  I was greeted by a few old acquaintances.  Unfortunately, most wanted to stop and talk, not having seen me for some time.  Jurt had similar problems.  Most also wondered why we were here, rather than back at the Thelbane, the massive, glassy needle of Chaos far to our rear.  Periodically, the air would vibrate as the gong continued its slow sounding.  I felt it in the ground, also, as we were very near to its home.  We made our way slowly across the Plaza, toward the massive pile of black stone at the very edge of the Pit, its gate an archway of frozen flame, as was its downward stair, each tread and riser time-barred fire, each railing the same.  The rough amphitheater below us was also fire-furnished, self-illumed, facing the black block at the end of everything, no wall behind it, but the open emptiness of the Pit and its singularity whence all things came.

No one was entering it yet, and we stood near the gates of fire and looked back along the route the procession would follow.  We nodded to friendly demonic faces, quivered to the note of the gong, watched the sky darken a little further.  Suddenly, my head was filled with a powerful presence.

“Merlin!”

I immediately had an image of Mandor in a changed form, looking down his red-clothed arm, hand invisible, presumably regarding me through my Trump, wearing the closest thing I’d seen in a long while to an irritated expression.

“Yes?” I said.

His gaze moved past me.  His expression suddenly changed, eyebrows rising, lips parting.

“That’s Jurt you’re with?” he asked.

“That’s right.”

“I’d thought you not on the best of terms,” he said slowly, “as of our last conversation.”

“We agreed to put aside our differences for the funeral.”

“While it seems very civilized, I’m not certain how wise it is,” he said.

I smiled.

“I know what I’m doing,” I told him.

“Really?” he said.  “Then why are you at the cathedral rather than here at Thelbane?”

“Nobody told me I was supposed to be at Thelbane.”

“Odd,” he responded.  “Your mother was supposed to have informed both you and Jurt that you were to be part of the procession.”

I shook my head and turned away.

“Jurt, did you know we were to be in the procession?” I asked.

“No,” he said.  “On the one hand, it makes sense.  On the other, there’s the black watch, which might recommend we maintain a low profile.  Who’s telling you this?”

“Mandor.  He says Dara was supposed to let us know.”

“She didn’t tell me.”

“You catch that?” I said to Mandor.

“Yes.  It doesn’t matter now.  Come on through, both of you.”

He extended his other hand.

“He wants us now,” I said to Jurt.  “Damn!” Jurt mouthed, and came forward.

I reached out and clasped Mandor’s hand just as Jurt came up and caught hold of my shoulder.  We both moved forward then into the slick and gleaming interior of Thelbane’s main hall at ground level, a study in black, gray, mossy green, deep red, chandeliers like stalactites, fire sculptures about the walls, scaly hides hung behind them, drifting globes of water in the middle air, creatures swimming within them.  The place was filled with no-tiles, relatives, courtiers, stirring like a field of flame about the catafalque at the hall’s center.  The gong sounded again just as Mandor said something to us.

He waited till the vibrations subsided, then spoke again: “I said Dara hasn’t arrived yet.  Go pay your respects, and let Bances assign you places in the procession.”

Glancing toward the catafalque, I caught sight of both Tmer and Tubble in the vicinity.  Tmer was talking to Bances, Tubble to someone who had his back turned this way.  A horrible thought suddenly struck me.

“What,” I asked, “is the security situation for the procession?”

Mandor smiled.

“There are quite a few guardsmen mixed in with the group here,” he said, “and more spotted along the way.  Someone will be watching you every second.”

I glanced at Jurt to see whether he’d heard, that.  He nodded.

“Thanks.”

Keeping my litany of obscenities subvocal, I moved toward the casket, Jurt at my back.  The only way I could think to produce a double would be to talk the Pattern into sending in a ghost of myself to take my place.  But the Logrus would detect the ringer’s projected energies in no time.  And if I just left, not only would my absence be noticed, but I’d probably be tracked-possibly by the Logrus itself once Dara called a conference.  Then it would be learned that I’d gone off to thwart the Logrus’s attempt to rebalance order, and the headwaters of Shit Creek are a cruel and treacherous expanse.  I would not make the mistake of fancying myself indispensable.

“How are we going to do this, Merlin?” Jurt said softly as we found our way to the end of the slow-moving line.

The gong sounded again, causing the chandeliers to vibrate.

“I don’t see how we can,” I answered.  “I think the best I can hope for is to try getting a message through as I walk along.”

“It can’t be done by Trump from here,” he answered.  “Well, maybe under perfect conditions,” he amended, “but not with all these distractions.”

I tried to think of some spell, some sending, some agent to serve me in this.  Ghost would have been ideal.  Of course; he’d drifted off to explore the spatial asymmetries of the Sculpture Hall.  That could keep him occupied for a long while.

“I could get there pretty quickly,” Jurt volunteered, “and with the time differential I might make it back before anyone noticed.”

“And you know exactly two people in Kashfa you might tell,” I said.  “Luke and Coral.  They both met you in church, when we were trying to kill each other-and you stole Luke’s father’s sword.  Offhand, I’d say he’d try to kill you on sight and she’d scream for help.”

The line advanced somewhat.

“So I don’t ask for help,” he said.

“Un-uh,” I told him.  “I know you’re tough, but Hendrakes are pros.  Also, you’d be faced with a very uncooperative rescuee in Coral.”

“You’re a sorcerer,” Jurt said.  “If we find out who the guards are, couldn’t you lay a spell on them so that they think they see us for this whole affair? Then we disappear and no one’s the wiser.”

“I’ve a hunch either Mom or our big brother has laid protective spells on the guards.  At such an ideal time for an assassination, I would.  I wouldn’t want anyone able to mess with my people’s heads if I were running security here.”

We shuffled a little farther along.  By leaning to one side and stretching my neck I was able to get a few glimpses of the wasted demonic form of old Swayvill, resplendently garbed, serpent of red-gold laid upon his breast, there in the flame-formed coffin, Oberon’s ancient nemesis, going to join him at last.

As I moved nearer, it occurred to me that there was more than one a roach to the problem.  Perhaps I’d dwelled too long among the magically naive.  I’d gotten out of the habit of thinking of magic against magic, of multiple mixed spells.  So what if the guards were protected from any fiddling with their perceptions? Let it be.  Find a way to work around it.

The gong sounded again.  When the echoes died, Jurt leaned near.

“There’s more to it than everything I said,” he whispered.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Another reason I came to you back at Sawall was because I was scared,” he replied.

“Of what?”

“At least one of them-Mandor or Dara-wants more than a balance, wants a total victory for the Logrus, for Chaos.  I really believe that.  It’s not just that I don’t want to be patty to it.  I don’t want it to happen.  Now that I can visit Shadow I don’t want to see it destroyed.  I don’t want a victory for either side.  Total control by the Pattern would probably be just as bad.”

“How can you be sure one of them really wants this?”

“They tried it before with Brand, didn’t they? He was out to destroy all order.”

“No,” I said.  “He planned to destroy the old order, then replace it with his own.  He was a revolutionary, not an anarchist.  He was going to create a new Pattern within the Chaos he brought forth-his own, but still the real thing.”

“He was duped.  He couldn’t have managed a thing like that.”

“No way of knowing till he tried, and he didn’t get the chance.”

“Either way, I’m afraid someone’s going to pull the plug on reality.  If this kidnapping takes place, it’ll be a big step in that direction.  If you can’t manage something to cover our absence, I think we should just go anyway and take our chances.”

“Not yet,” I said.  “Hang on.  I’m working something out.  How’s this sound? I don’t locate the guards and hallucinate them.  Instead, I do a transformation.  I cause a couple of other people to look like us.  You trump us out as soon as I do.  That won’t be a hallucination for anyone.  Everyone will see them as us; we can go about our business-and check back if we have to.”

“You do it and I’ll get us out of here.”

“Okay, I’ll do it to the two guys in front of us.  As soon as I’ve finished I’ll gesture like this,” I said, lowering my left hand from shoulder-height to waist-level, “and we both stoop as if one of us had dropped something.  Then you take us away.”

“I’ll be ready.”

The spikard made it easier than working out a transform spell.  It was like a spell processor.  I fed it the two end products, and it ran thousands of variations in a trice and handed me the finished products-a pair of spells it would have taken me a long while to work out along classical lines.  I raised my hand as I hung them and accessed one of the many power sources the thing commanded off in Shadow.  I fed juice into the constructs, watched the change commence, dropped my hand, and leaned forward.

There followed a moment’s vertigo, and when I straightened we were back in Jurt’s apartment.  I laughed and he slapped my shoulder.

Immediately then, we were changing back into our human forms and garments.  As soon as that was done, he caught hold of my arm again and trumped us to Fire Gate.  A moment later, and he’d jumped us again, this time to a mountaintop overlooking a blue valley beneath a green sky.  Then again, to the middle of a high bridge above a deep gorge, the sky putting away stars or taking them on.

“Okay, now,” he said, and we stood atop a gray stone wall damp with dew, possibly even the remains of a v storm.  Clouds were taking fire in the east.  There was a light breeze out of the south.

This was the wall that surrounded the innermost zone of Jidrash, Luke’s capital in Kashfa.  There were four huge buildings below us-including the palace and the Temple of the Unicorn directly across the Plaza from it-as well as a number of smaller buildings.  Diagonally across the way from where we stood was the wing of the palace from which Gryll had fetched me (how long ago?) from my rendezvous with the queen.  I could even make out the broken shutter of our window amid an expanse of ivy.

“Over there,” I said, gesturing.  “That’s where I last saw her.”

An eyeblink later we stood within the chamber, its only inhabitants.

The place had been straightened, the bed made up.  I withdrew my Trumps and shuffled out Coral’s.  Staring then till it grew cold, I felt her presence and reached for it.

She was there yet she wasn’t.  It was the disjointed sense of presence one encounters in dream or stupor.  I passed my hand over the card and ended our tenuous contact.

“What happened?” Jurt asked.

“I think she’s drugged,” I replied.

“Then it would seem they’ve already got her,” he said.  “Any way you can trace her in that state?”

“She could also be in the next building, on medication,” I said.  “She wasn’t well when I left.”

“What now?”

“Either way, we’ve got to talk to Luke,” I said, searching for his card.

I reached him in an instant on uncovering it.  “Merlin! Where the hell are you?” he asked. 

“If you’re in the palace, I’m next door,” I said.

He rose to his feet from what I now realized to be the edge of a bedstead, and he picked up a long-sleeved green shirt and drew it on, covering his collection of scars.  I thought that I glimpsed someone in the bed behind him.  He muttered something in that direction, but I could not overhear it.

“We’ve got to talk,” he said, running his hand through his rusty hair.

“Bring me through.”

“Okay,” I said.  “But first, you’d better know that my brother Jurt is here.”

“Has he got my dad’s sword?”

“Uh-No.”

“Guess I won’t kill him right now,” he said, tucking his shirt into his waistband.

Abruptly, he extended his hand.  I clasped it.  He stepped forward and joined us.

VIII

Luke grinned at me, scowled at Jurt.

“Where’ve you been, anyway?” he asked.

“The Courts of Chaos,” I replied.  “I was summoned from here at the death of Swayvill.  The funeral’s in progress right now.  We sneaked away when I learned that Coral was in danger.”

“I know that-now,” Luke said.  “She’s gone.  Kidnapped, I think.”

“When did it happen?”

“Night before last, I’d judge.  What do you know of it?”

I glanced at Jurt.  “Time differential,” he said.

“She represented a chance to pick up a few points,” I explained, “in the ongoing game between the Pattern and the Logrus.  So agents of Chaos were sent for her.  They wanted her intact, though.  She should be okay.”

“What do they want her for?”

“Seems they feel she’s specially suited to be queen in Thelbane, what with the Jewel of Judgment as a piece of her anatomy and all.”

“Who’s going to be the new king?”

My face felt warm of a sudden.

“Well, the people who came for her had me in mind for the job,” I replied.

“Hey, congratulations!” he said.  “Now I don’t have to be the only one having all this fun.”

“What do you mean?”

“This king business ain’t worth shit, man.  I wish I’d never gotten sucked into the deal in the first place.  Everybody’s got a piece of your time, and when they don’t someone still has to know where you are.”

“Hell, you were just crowned.  Give it a chance to shake down.”

“ ‘Just’? It’s been over a month!”

“Time differential,” Jurt repeated.

“Come on.  I’ll buy you a cup of coffee,” Luke said.

“You’ve got coffee here?”

“I require it, man.  This way.” He led us out the door, turned left, headed down a stair.

“I had a funny thought,” he said, “while you were talking back there-about you reigning, and Coral a desirable queen.  I could get the marriage annulled pretty damn quick, since I’m in charge here.  Now, you want her for your queen and I want that Golden Circle Treaty with Amber.  I think I see a way to make everybody happy.”

“It’s a lot more complicated than that, Luke.  I don’t want the job, and it would be very bad for us if my kinsmen back in the Courts got custody of Coral.  I’ve learned a lot of things recently.”

“Such as?” Luke said, opening a postern that let upon a walkway to the rear of the palace.

I glanced back at Jurt.

“He’s scared, too,” I said.  “That’s why we’re a little more cordial these days.”

Jurt nodded.

“It’s possible Brand could have been partly victim of a plan originated in the Courts,” he said, “part of an idea that’s still alive there.”

“We’d better go for the whole breakfast,” Luke said.  “Let’s swing around back and take it in the kitchen.” We followed him down a garden path.

And so we ate and talked as the day brightened about us.  Luke insisted I try Coral’s Trump again, which I did with the same result.  Then he cursed, nodded, and said,’ “Your timing’s actually pretty good.  The guys who grabbed her were reported to have taken off along a black trail into the west.”

“It figures,” I said.

“I’ve reason to believe they didn’t make it back to the Courts with her.”

“Oh?”

“I understand these black thoroughfares you guys use are dangerous to outsiders,” he observed.  “But I can show you what’s left of this one-it’s a black pathway now, actually.  I’d like to follow it, but I don’t know that I can, get away for long.  Also, is there a way to protect me from the trail itself?”

“Just being in our company would keep you from harm as we traveled it,” Jurt said.

I stood.  The cook and two dishwashers glanced in our direction.

“There is somebody you have to meet, Luke,” I told him.  “Right now.”

“Why not?” he said, rising.  “Where is he?”

“Let’s take a walk,” I said.

“Sure.”

We got to our feet, headed back to the servants’ door.  “So, whether she was a willing accomplice or a magical time bomb, Mom might have conned Dad into his efforts to take over in Amber-and, ultimately, to change the world,” Luke said.

“Well, I gather he didn’t exactly come to her with clean hands,” I said.

“True, but I wonder how elaborate his plans really were, to begin with,” Luke mused.  “This is the most cheerful thing I’ve heard all month.”

We exited into the little covered walkway that ran along the side of the palace.  Luke halted and looked around.

“Where is he?” he asked.

“Not here,” I said.  “I just needed a point of departure with no witnesses to say I’d kidnapped the king.”

“Where are we going, Merlin?” Jurt asked, as I swirled a spiral from the center of the spikard, drawing upon sixteen different power sources.

“Good idea.  Kidnap away,” Luke was saying as he was caught up along with Jurt.

I used it as I had when I’d transported myself from Amber to Kashfa, forming the target from memory rather than discovered vision.  Only this time there were three of us and a long, long way to go.

“Have I got a deal for you,” I said.

It was like stepping into a kaleidoscope, and passing through about 120 degrees of cubist fragmentation and reassembly, before emerging on the other side beneath a towering tree, its top lost in the fog, in the vicinity of a red and white ‘57 Chevy, its radio playing Renbourn’s “Nine Maidens.”

Luke’s ghost emerged from the front seat and stared at the original.

Luke stared back.

“Hi,” I said.  “Meet each other.  You hardly need an introduction, though.  You have so much in common.” Jurt stared at the Pattern.

“That’s my dad’s edition,” I said.

“I could have guessed that,” Jurt told me.  “But what are we doing here?”

“An idea I had.  But I thought Corwin would be here, and I might discuss it with him.”

“He came back, and he left again,” said the resident Luke, overhearing me.

“Did he leave a forwarding address, or say when he might return?”

“Nope.”

“Damn! Look, something that got said just a little while ago gave me the idea that you Lukes might want to change places for a time-if this Pattern could be persuaded to approve some leave.”

Luke, whom I decided to continue calling Luke when his ghost was around, brightened suddenly.  I resolved to think of his double as Rinaldo, to keep things sorted.

“It’s an experience no man should do without,” he said.

“Then why are you so anxious to get away from it?” Rinaldo replied.

“To help Merle find Coral,” Luke said.  “She’s been kidnapped.”

“Really? By whom?”

“Agents of Chaos.”

“Hm.” Rinaldo began to pace.  “Okay, you know more about it than I do,” he finally said.  “If Corwin gets back soon and the Pattern excuses me, I’ll help you any way I can.”

“The trail will be getting colder while we wait,” Luke observed.

“You don’t understand,” Rinaldo said.  “I’ve got a job to do here, and I can’t just take off-even if it’s to go and be a king somewhere.  What I do is more important.”

Luke glanced at me.

“He’s right,” I said.  “He’s a guardian of the Pattern.  On the other hand, nobody’s about to hurt Coral.  Why don’t Jurt and I pop on back to the Courts for a few minutes, to check on the progress of the funeral? Corwin might show up while we’re about it.  I’m sure you two will find something to talk about.”

“Go ahead,” Luke told me.

“Yeah,” said Rinaldo.  “I’d like to know what we’ve been doing.”

I looked at Jurt, who nodded.  I went and stood beside him.

“Your turn to drive,” I said.

“Back soon,” I remarked as we faded into the first jump.

...  And so again to the Ways of Sawall, and back into our ruddy garb over demon-form.  I also changed our facial appearance to the nondescript before Jurt returned us to the funeral party, not wanting a matching set marching along.

The Thelbane proved deserted.  A quick check outside, however, showed us the procession, perhaps a quarter way across the Plaza, halted and in a state of confusion.

“Uh-oh,” Jurt remarked.  “What should I do?”

“Take us down there,” I told him.

Moments later, we were at the outer edge of the crowd.  Swayvill’s blazing casket had been lowered to the ground, a guard posted about it.  My attention was immediately attracted to a knot of figures perhaps twenty feet off to the right of it.  There was some shouting going on, something lay upon the ground, and two demonic forms were being held tightly by several others.  My stomach tightened as I saw that the two were the pair I had ensorcelled to resemble Jurt and myself.  Both were protesting something.

As I pushed my way forward, I withdrew my spells, causing the two to revert to their own appearance.  There were more shouts as this occurred, including an “I told you!” from the nearest.  The response to this was a “Yes, they are!” from someone I suddenly realized to be Mandor.  He stood between them and the thing on the ground.

“It was a trick!” Mandor said.  “A distraction! Release them!“

I decided the moment was propitious for dropping the spells that masked Jurt and myself.  Glorious confusion! Moments later, Mandor saw me and signaled for me to approach.  Jurt, I saw, off to my right, had stopped to talk to someone he knew.

“Merlin!” he said as soon as I was near.  “What do you know of this?”

“Nothing,” I said.  “I was way to the rear, with Jurt.  I don’t even know what happened.”

“Someone gave two of the security guards your appearance and Jurt’s.  This was obviously intended to create confusion when the assassin struck.  They rushed forward insisting they were guards.  Obviously, they weren’t.  Clever-especially with you and Jurt on their black watch list.”

“I see,” I agreed, wondering whether I had helped an assassin to escape.  “Who got hit?”

“Tmer, with a very professional dagger stroke,” he explained, left eyelid twitching.  A faint wink? Meaning? “And he was gone in an instant.”

Four mourners, having made a stretcher of cloaks, raised the fallen body.  After they’d moved only a few paces with it, I saw another knot of people beyond them.

Seeing my puzzled expression, Mandor glanced back.

“More security,” he said.  “They’re surrounding Tubble.  I think I’ll order him out of here for now.  You and Jurt, too.  You can come to the temple later.  I’ll see that security’s even heavier there.”

“Okay,” I said.  “Is Dara here?” He glanced about.

“I haven’t seen her.  Don’t now, either.  You’d better go.”

I nodded.  As I turned away, I saw a half-familiar face off to my right.

She was tall and dark-eyed, shifting from a swirl of multicolored jewels to a swaying flowerlike form, and she had been staring at me.  I had been trying to recall her name earlier, and had failed.  Seeing her brought it back, though.  I approached her.

“I have to leave for a time,” I said.  “But I wanted to say hello, Gilva.”

“You do remember.  I was wondering.”

“Of course.”

“How are you, Merlin?”

I sighed.  She smiled her way into furry, half-human solidity.

“Me, too,” she said.  “I’ll be so glad when this is all settled.”

“Yes.  Listen, I want to see you for several reasons.  When would be a good time?”

“Why, anytime after the funeral, I guess.  What about?”

“No time now.  Mandor’s giving me angry looks.  See you later.”

“Yes.  Later, Merlin.”

I hurried back to Jurt and caught him by the elbow.  “We’re ordered to leave,” I said.  “Security reasons.”

“All right.” He turned to the man he’d been talking with.  “Thanks.  I’ll see you later,” he told him.

The world slipped away.  A new one dawned: Jurt’s apartment, our clothes strewn about it.

“Good timing for us.  Bad for Tmer,” he remarked.

“True.”

“How’s it feel to be number two?” he asked as we changed again-both clothing and form.

“It advances your case, too,” I said.

“I’ve a feeling he died on your account, brother, not mine.”

“I hope not,” I said.

He laughed.

“It’s between Tubble and you.”

“If it were, I’d be dead already,” I said.  “If you’re right, it’s really between Sawall and Chanicut.”

“Wouldn’t it be funny, Merlin, if I were sticking with you because it’s the safest place to be just now?” he asked.  “I’m sure our guards and assassins are better than Chanicut’s.  Supposing I’m just waiting, saving my final effort till Tubble’s out of the way? Then, trusting me and all, you turn your back-Coronation!“

I looked at him.  He was smiling, but he also seemed to be studying me.

I was about to say, “You can have it, without the trouble,” in a joking way.  But I wondered just then: Even in jest, if it were a choice between the two of us ...  It occurred to me that if we were the only options, this was a circumstance under which I’d agree to take the throne.  I’d resolved to give him the benefit of the doubt, to meet him more than halfway.  But I couldn’t help it.  For all his conciliatory talk and apparent cooperation, a lifelong habit is a hard thing to break.  I couldn’t bring myself to trust him anymore than I had to.

“Tell it to the Logrus,” I said.

A look of fear-the widening of the eyes, the shifting of the gaze downward, a small forward tightening of the shoulders-then, “You really do have an understanding with it, don’t you?” he asked.

“There seems to be an understanding, but it only works one way,” I said.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not about to help either side wreck our world.”

“Sounds like you’re prepared to double-cross the Logrus.”

I raised a finger to my lips.

“It must be your Amber blood,” he said then.  “I’ve been told they’re all a little crazy.”

“Maybe so,” I said.

“Sounds like something your father would do.”

“What do you know of him?”

“You know, everybody has a favorite Amber story.”

“Nobody around here ever told any to me.”

“Of course not-considering.”

“Me being a half breed and all?” I said.

He shrugged.  Then, “Well, yes.”

I pulled on my boots.

“Whatever you’re doing with that new Pattern,” he said, “it probably won’t make the old one too happy.”

“Doubtless you’re right,” I agreed.

“So you won’t be able to run to it for protection if the Logrus is after you.”

“I guess not.”

“...  And if they’re both after you, the new one won’t be able to stand against them.”

“You think they’d really get together on anything?”

“Hard to say.  You’re playing a wild game.  I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“Me, too,” I said, rising.  “My turn.”

I unwound the spikard at a level I’d never attempted before, and I got us there in a single jump.

Luke and Rinaldo were still talking.  I could tell them apart by their garments.  Corwin was nowhere in sight.  Both waved as we made our appearance.

“How’s everything in the Courts?” Luke asked.

“Chaotic,” Jurt replied.  “How long have we been away?”

“Six hours, I’d guess,” Rinaldo replied.

“No sign of Corwin?” I asked.

“No,” Luke said.  “But in the meantime, we’ve worked out a deal with each other-and Rinaldo’s been in touch with the Pattern here.  It will release him and continue his maintenance as soon as Corwin returns.”

“Regarding that ...” Jurt said.

“Yes?” Rinaldo asked.  ‘“

“I’ll stay here and cover for Rinaldo while you go find the lady with the glass eye.”

“Why?” Rinaldo asked.

“Because you’ll do a better job together and I’ll feel a lot safer here than I would most other places.”

“I’d have to see whether that’s acceptable,” Rinaldo said.

“Do it,” said Jurt.

He moved off toward the Pattern.  I searched the fog in all directions, hoping to see my father returning.  Jurt studied the car, its radio now playing a Bruce Dunlap number from “Los Animales.”

“If your father comes back and relieves me,” Jurt said, “I’ll return to the funeral and make excuses for you if you’re not there.  If you get back and I’m not there, you do the same.  All right?”

“Yes,” I said, wisps of mist rising like smoke between us.  “And whichever of us is free first and has something worth saying ...”

“Yes,” he agreed.  “I’ll come looking if you don’t get to me.”

“Didn’t happen to pick up my sword while you were back in the Courts, did you?” Luke asked.

“Didn’t have time,” Jurt replied.

“Next time you’re back, I wish you’d make time.”

“I will, I will,” Jurt said.

Rinaldo moved away from the Pattern, returned to us.  “You’re hired,” he said to Jurt.  “Come with me.  There’s a spring I want to show you, and a store of food, some weapons.”

Luke turned and watched them move off to our left.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, “but I still don’t trust him.”

“Don’t be sorry.  I don’t either.  I’ve known him too long.  But we have better reasons for trusting each other now than we’ve had for a long time.”

“I’m wondering whether it was wise to let him know where this Pattern is, and now to leave him alone with it.”

“I’m pretty sure the Pattern knows what it’s doing, and that it can take care of itself.”

He raised a pair of crossed fingers.

“I’d’ve argued against it,” he said, “save that I need my double.”

When they returned, a deejay’s baritone suddenly rolled forth, saying,

“It all goes to show, timing is everything.  Road conditions are fine.  It is a good day for travel.” Immediately, there followed a drum solo I’d have sworn was something I once heard Random play.

“You’re on duty as of now,” Rinaldo said to Jurt.  To us, he nodded.

“Anytime.”

I caught us up with the spikard and spun us back to Kashfa, bringing us into Jidrash near twilight, to the same wall-top vantage I had enjoyed earlier with my brother.

“And so at last,” Rinaldo said, looking out over the town.

“Yes,” Luke replied.  “It’s all yours-for a time.” Then, “Merle, how’s about jumping us to my apartment?”

I turned to the west where clouds had gone orange, glanced upward to where several hung purple.

“Before we do that, Luke,” I said, “I’d like to use what daylight’s left for a look at that black trail.”

He nodded.

“Good idea.  Okay, take us over there.”

His gesture indicated a hilly area to the southwest.  I caught us up and spikarded us to it, creating a verb for which I felt a need in the same act.

Such is the power of Chaos.

Arriving on a small hilltop, we followed Luke down its far side.

“Over this way,” he said.

Long shadows lay all about us, but there is a difference between their dimness and the blackness of a travel-thread from the Courts.

“It was right here,” Luke finally said when we came to a place between a pair of boulders.

I moved forward into the area but I felt nothing special.

“You sure this is the place?” I asked.

“Yes.”

I advanced another ten paces, twenty.

“If this is really where it was, it’s gone now,” I told him.  “Of course ...  I wonder how long we’ve been ‘ away?”

Luke snapped his fingers.

“Timing,” he observed.  “Take us back to my apartments.”

We kissed the day good-bye as I sent forth a lead and opened our way through the wall of dark.  We stepped through into the room I had occupied earlier with Coral.

“Close enough?” I asked.  “I’m not sure where your rooms are.”

“Come on,” he said, taking us out, to the left and down the stair.

“Time to consult the resident expert.  Merle, do something about this guy’s appearance.  Too much of a good thing might cause comment.”

It was easy, and the first time I’d made anyone look like the big portrait of Oberon back home.

Luke knocked on a door before entering.  Somewhere beyond it, a familiar voice spoke his name.

“I have some friends with me,” he said.

“Bring them in,” came her reply.

He opened the door and did so.

“Both of you know Nayda,” Luke announced.  “Nayda, this is my double.  Let’s call him Rinaldo and me Luke while we’re together.  He’s going to run things for me here while Merle and I are off looking for your sister.”

I changed Rinaldo back then, in response to her puzzled look.

She had on black trousers and an emerald blouse, her hair bound back by a matching green scarf.  She smiled as she greeted us, and when she regarded me she touched her lips lightly, almost casually, with a fingertip.  I nodded immediately.

“I trust you are recovered from any misadventures in Amber,” I said.  “You were, of course, there at a bad time.”

“Of course,” she responded.  “Fully recovered, thank you.  Kind of you to ask.  Thanks, too, for the recent directions.  It was you, I take it, who spirited Luke away these two days past?”

“It’s really been that long?” I said.

“It has, sir.”

“Sorry about that, my dear,” Luke said, squeezing her hand and looking long into her eyes.

“That explains why the trail’s faded,” I said.

Rinaldo seized her hand and kissed it, while executing an elaborate bow.

“Amazing how much you’ve changed from the girl I knew,” he stated.

“Oh?”

“I share Luke’s memories as well as his appearance,” he explained.

“‘I could tell there was something not quite human about you,” she remarked.  “I see you as a man whose very blood is fire.”

“And how might you see that?” he inquired.

“She has her means,” Luke said, “though I thought it only a psychic bond with her sister.  Apparently it goes somewhat further.”

She nodded.

“Speaking of which, I hope you can use it to help us track her,” he continued.  “With the trail gone and a drug or a spell barring a Trump call, we’ll be needing assistance.”

“Yes,” she answered, “though she is in no danger at the moment.”

“Good,” he said.  “In that case, I’ll order us all food and set to briefing this good-looking fellow on what’s going on in Kashfa these days.”

“Luke,” I said.  “It sounds like an ideal time for me to head back to the Courts for the rest of the funeral.”

“How long would you be gone, Merle?”

“I don’t know,” I replied.

“Back by morning, I trust?”

“Me, too.  What if I’m not, though?”

“I’ve a feeling I should go looking without you.”

“Try reaching me first, though.”

“Sure.  See you later.”

I drew my cloak of space about me, shrugging Kashfa away.  When I opened it again I was back in Jurt’s quarters at Sawall.

.I stretched, I yawned.  I did a quick turn about the room, making certain I was alone.  I unfastened my cloak and tossed it upon the bed.  I paced as I unbuttoned my shirt.

Halt.  What was it? Also, where?

I retraced a few paces.  I had never spent a great deal of time in my younger brother’s rooms, but I would have recalled what I was feeling.

There was a chair and table in the corner formed by the wall and an armoire of dark, almost black wood.  Kneeling on the chair and reaching over the table, I could feel it-the presence of a way, not quite strong enough for transport, though.  Ergo...

I moved off to my right, opened the armoire.  It had to be inside, of course.  I wondered how recently he had installed it.  I also felt slightly funny about poking about in his quarters this way.  Still, he owed me for a lot of misery and inconvenience.  A few confidences and a little cooperation hardly cleaned the slate.  I hadn’t learned to trust him yet, and it was possible he was setting me up for something.  Good manners, I decided, would have to be sacrificed to prudence.

I pushed garments aside, making a way clear to the back of the thing.  I could feel it strongly.  A final shove at the garments, a quick shuffle to the rear, and I was at the focus.  I let it take me away.

Once there was a forward yielding, the pressure of the garments at my back gave me a small push.  That, plus the fact that someone (Jurt, himself?) had done a sloppy shadowmastering job resulting in mismatched floor levels, sent me sprawling as I achieved destination.

At least, I didn’t land in a pit full of sharpened stakes or acid.  Or the lair of some half-starved beast.  No, it was a green-tiled floor, and I caught myself as I fell.  And from the flickering light all about me I guessed there was a mess of candles burning.

Even before I looked up I was sure they’d all be green.

Nor was I incorrect.  About that or anything else.  The setup was similar to that of my father, with a groined vault containing a light source superior to the candles.  Only there was no painting above this altar.  This one featured a stained-glass window, lots of green in it, and a little red.

Its principal was Brand.

I rose and crossed to it.  Lying upon it, drawn a few inches from its sheath, was Werewindle.

I reached out and took hold of it, my first impulse being to bear it away with me for eventual restoration to Luke.  Then I hesitated.  It wasn’t something I could wear to a funeral.  If I took it now I’d have to hide it somewhere, and it was already well-hidden right here.  I let my hand rest upon it, though, as I thought.  It contained a similar feeling of power to that which Grayswandir bore, only somehow brighter, less tragedy-touched and brooding.  Ironic.  It seemed an ideal blade for a hero.

I looked about.  There was a book on a reading stand off to my left, a pentagram upon the floor behind me, worked in different shades of green, a smell-as of a recent wood fire-hung in the air.  Idly, I wondered what I might find if I were to knock a hole in the wall.  Was this chapel located upon a mountaintop? Beneath a lake? Underground? Was it drifting somewhere in the heavens?

What did it represent? It looked to be religious in nature.  And Benedict, Corwin, and Brand were the three I knew about.  Were they admired, respected-venerated-by certain of my countrymen and relatives? Or were these hidden chapels somehow more sinister?

I removed my hand from Werewindle, stepped to the vicinity of the pentagram.

My Logrus vision revealed nothing untoward, but an intense scan with the spikard detected the residue of a long-removed magical operation.  The traces were too faint to tell me anything of its nature, however.  While it seemed possible I might probe further after this and come up with a clearer picture, I also realized I hadn’t the time such an operation would require.

Reluctantly, I retreated to the vicinity of the way.  Could these places have been used to try to influence the individuals involved?

I shook my head.  This was something I would have to save for another day.  I located the way and gave myself to it.

I stumbled on my return, also.

Catching hold of the frame with one hand, I seized a garment with another, kept myself upright, straightened, and stepped out.  Then I shifted the clothing back into place and shut the doors.

I stripped quickly, altering my form as I was about it, and I donned my mourning garb once again.  I felt some activity in the vicinity of the spikard, and for the first time I caught it drawing upon one of the many sources it commanded to alter its shape, accommodating the changing size of my finger.  It had obviously done this several times before, though this was the first time I had noted the process.  This was interesting, in that it showed the device capable of acting independent of my will.

I didn’t really know what the thing was, what its origin might have been.  I kept it because it represented a considerable source of power, an acceptable substitute for the use of the Logrus, which I now feared.  But as I watched it change shape to remain snug upon my changing finger, I wondered.  What if it were somehow boobytrapped to turn upon me at exactly the wrong moment?

I turned it a couple of times upon my finger.  I moved into it with my mind, knowing this to be an exercise in futility.  It would take ages for me to run down each line to its source, to check out hidden spells along the way.  It was like taking a trip through a Swiss watch-custom-made.  I was impressed both with the beauty of its design, and with the enormous amount of work that had gone into its creation.  It could easily possess hidden imperatives that would only respond to special sets of circumstances.  Yet It had done nothing untoward, yet.  And the alternative was the Logrus.  It struck me as a genuine instance of the preferability of the devil one didn’t know.

Growling, I adjusted my apparel, focused my attention on the Temple of the Serpent, and bade the spikard deliver me near its entrance.  It performed as smoothly and gently as if I had never doubted it, as if I had not discovered in it yet another cause for paranoia.

And for a time, I simply stood outside the doors of frozen flame, there at the great Cathedral of the Serpent at the outer edge of the Plaza at the End of the World, situated exactly at the Rim, opened to the Pit itself- where, on a good day, one can view the creation of the universe, or its ending-and I watched the stars swarm through space that folded and unfolded like the petals of flowers; and as if my life were about to change, my thoughts returned to California and school, of sailing the Sunburst with Luke and Gail and Julia, of sitting with my father near the end of the war, of riding with Vinta Bayle through the wine country to the east of Amber, of a long, brisk afternoon spent showing Coral about the town, of the strange encounters of that day; and I turned.  and raised my scaly hand, stared past it at the spire of Thelbane, and “they cease not fighting, east and west, on the marches of my breast,” I thought.  How long, how long ...  ?-irony, as usual, a three-to-one favorite whenever sentimentality makes its move.

Turning again, I went in to see the last of the King of Chaos.

IX

Down, down into the pile, into the great slag heap, window onto the ends of time and space, where nothing is to be seen at the end, I went, between walls forever afire, never burnt down, walking in one of my bodies toward the sound of a voice reading from the Book of the Serpent Hung upon the Tree of Matter, and at length came into the grotto that backed upon blackness, widening semicircles of red-clad mourners facing the reader and the grand catafalque beside which he stood, Swayvill clearly in view within it, half-covered with red flowers dropped by mourners, red tapers flickering against the Pit, but a few paces behind them; across the rear of the chamber then, listening to Bances of Amblerash, High Priest of the Serpent, his words sounding as if spoken beside me, for the acoustics of Chaos are good; finding a seat in an otherwise empty arc, where anyone looking back would be certain to notice me; seeking familiar faces, finding Dara, Tubble, and Mandor seated in frontal positions that indicated they were to assist Bances in sliding the casket past the edge into forever when the time came; and in my divided heart I recalled the last funeral I had attended before this.

Caine’s, back in Amber, beside the sea, and I thought again of Bloom and the way the mind wanders on these occasions.

I sought about me.  Jurt was nowhere in sight.  Gilva of Hendrake was only a couple of rows below me.  I shifted my gaze to the deep blackness beyond the Rim.  It was almost as if I were looking down, rather than out-if such terms had any real meaning in that place. Occasionally, I would perceive darting points of light or rolling masses.  It served me as a kind of Rorschach for a time, and I half-dozed before the prospect of dark butterflies, clouds, pairs of faces I sat upright with a small start, wondering what had broken my reverie.

The silence, it was.  Bances had stopped reading.

I was about to lean forward and whisper something to Gilva when Bances began the Consignment.  I was startled to discover that I recalled all of the appropriate responses.

As the chanting swelled and focused, I saw Mandor get to his feet, and Dara, and Tubble.  They moved forward, joining Bances about the casket-Dara and Mandor at its foot, Tubble and Bances at its head.  Service assistants rose from their section and began snuffing candles, until only the large one, at the Rim, behind Bances, still flickered.  At this point we all stood.

The ever-eerie light of flame mosaics, worked into the walls at either hand, granted additional illumination to the extent that I could detect the movement below when the chanting ceased.

The four figures stooped slightly, presumably taking hold of the casket’s handles.  They straightened then and moved toward the Rim.  An assistant advanced and stood beside the candle just as they passed it, ready to snuff the final flame as Swayvill’s remains were consigned to Chaos.

A half dozen paces remained...  Three.  Two...  Bances and Tubble knelt at the verge, positioning the casket within a groove in the stone floor, Bances intoning a final bit of ritual the while, Dara and Mandor remaining standing.

The prayer finished, I heard a curse.  Mandor seemed jerked forward.

Dara stumbled away to the side.  I heard a clank as the casket hit the floor.  The assistant’s hand had already been moving, and the candle went out at that moment.  There followed a skidding sound as the casket moved forward, more curses, a shadowy figure retreating from the Rim...

Then came a wail.  A bulky outline fell and was gone.  The wail diminished, diminished, diminished...

I raised my left fist, caused the spikard to create a globe of white light as a bubble pipe does a bubble.  It was about three feet in diameter when I released it to drift overhead.  Suddenly, the place was filled with babbling.  Others of sorcerous background having exercised their favorite illumination spells at about the same time I had, the temple was now over-illuminated from dozens of point-sources.

Squinting, I saw Bances, Mandor, and Dara in converse near the Rim.

Tubble and the remains of Swayvill were no longer with us.

My fellow mourners were already moving.  I did, too, realizing that my time here was now extremely limited.  I stepped down over the empty row, moved to the right, touched Gilva’s still humanized shoulder.  “Merlin!” she said, turning quickly.  “Tubble-went over-didn’t he?”

“Sure looked that way,” I said.

“What will happen now?”

“I’ve got to leave,” I said, “fast!”

“Why?”

“Somebody’s going to start thinking about the succession in a few moments, and I’m going to be smothered with protection,” I told her.  “I can’t have that, not just now.”

“Why not?”

“No time to go into that.  But I’d wanted to talk to you.  May I borrow you now?”

There were milling bodies all about us.

“Of course-sir,” she said, apparently having just thought about the succession.

“Cut that out,” I said, spikard spiraling the energies that caught us and took us away.

I brought us to the forest of metal trees, and Gilva kept hold of my arm and looked about her.

“Lord, what is this place?” she asked.

“I’d rather not say,” I replied, “for reasons that will become apparent in a moment.  I only had one question for you the last time I spoke with you.  But now I have two, and this place figures in one of them, in a way, besides being fairly deserted most of the time.”

“Ask,” she said, moving to face me.  “I’ll try to help.  If it’s important, though, I may not be the best person-“

“Yes, it’s important.  But I haven’t time to make an appointment with Belissa.  It concerns my father, Corwin.”

“Yes?”

“It was he who slew Borel of Hendrake in the war at Patternfall.”

“So I understand,” she said.

“After the war, he joined the royal party that came here to the Courts to work out the Treaty.”

“Yes,” she said.  “I know that.”

“He disappeared shortly thereafter, and no one seemed to know where he’d gotten off to.  For a time, I thought he might be dead.  Later, however, I received indications that he was not, but rather was imprisoned somewhere.  Can you tell me anything about this?”

She turned away suddenly.

“I am offended,” she said, “by what I believe you imply.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, “but I had to ask.”

“Ours is an honorable House,” she said.  “We accept the fortunes of war.  When the fighting is ended, we put it all behind us.”

“I apologize,” I said.  “We’re even related, you know, on my mother’s side.”

“Yes, I know,” she said, turning away.  “Will that be all, Prince Merlin?”

“Yes,” I answered.  “Where shall I send you?”

She was silent for a moment, then, “You said there were two questions,” she stated.

“Forget it.  I changed my mind about the second one.”

She turned back.

“Why? Why should I forget it? Because I maintain my family’s honor?”

“No, because I believe you.”

“And?”

“I’ll trouble someone else for an opinion.”

“Do you mean it’s dangerous, and you’ve decided against asking me?”

“I don’t understand it, so it could be dangerous.”

“Do you want to offend me again?”

“Heaven forbid!”

“Ask me your question.”

“I’ll have to show you.”

“Do it.”

“Even if it means climbing a tree?”

“Whatever it means.”

“Follow me.”

So I led her to the tree and climbed it, an enormously simple feat in my present form.  She was right behind me.

“There’s a way up here,” I said.  “I’m about to let it take me.  Give me a few seconds to move aside.”

I moved a little farther upward and was transported.  Stepping aside, I surveyed the chapel quickly.  Nothing seemed changed.

Then Gilva was at my side.  I heard a sharp intake of breath.

“Oh, my! “ she said.

“I know what I’m looking at,” I said, “but I don’t know what I’m seeing, if you follow me.”

“It is a shrine,” she said, “dedicated to the spirit of a member of the royal house of Amber.”

“Yes, it’s my father Corwin,” I agreed.  “That’s what I’m looking at.  But what am I seeing? Why should there be such a thing here in the Courts, anyway?”

She moved forward slowly, studying Dad’s altar.

“I might as well tell you,” I added, “that this is not the only such shrine I’ve seen since my return.”

She reached out and touched the hilt of Grayswandir.  Searching beneath the altar, she found a supply of candles.  Removing a silver one and screwing it into the socket of one of a number of holders, she lit it from one of the others and placed it near Grayswandir.  She muttered something while she was about it, but I did not make out the words.

When she turned back to me again she was smiling.  “We both grew up here,” I said.  “How is it that you seem to know all about this when I don’t?”

“The answer is fairly simple, Lord,” she told me.  “You departed right after the war, to seek an education in other lands.  This is a sign of something that came to pass in your absence.”

She reached out, took hold of my arm, led me to a bench.

“Nobody thought we would actually lose that war,” she said, “though it had long been argued that Amber would be a formidable adversary.” We seated ourselves.  “Afterward, there was considerable unrest,” she continued, “over the policies that had led to it and the treaty that followed it.  No single house or grouping could hope for a deposition against the royal coalition, though.  You know the conservatism of the Rim Lords.  It would take much, much more to unite a majority against the Crown.  Instead, their discontent took another form.  There grew up a brisk trade in Amber memorabilia from the war.  People became fascinated by our conquerors.  Biographical studies of Amber’s royal family sold very well.  Something like a cult began to take shape.  Private chapels such as this began to appear, dedicated to a particular Amberite whose virtues appealed to someone.”

She paused, studying my face.

“It smacked too much of a religion,” she went on then, “and for time out of mind the Way of the Serpent had been the only significant religion in the Courts.  So Swayvill outlawed the Amber cult as heretical, for obvious political reasons.  That proved a mistake.  Had he done nothing it might have passed quickly.  I don’t really know, of course.  But outlawing it drove it underground, made people take it more seriously as a rebellious thing.  I’ve no idea how many cult chapels there are among the Houses, but that’s obviously what this is.”

“Fascinating sociological phenomenon,” I said, “and your cult figure is Benedict.”

She laughed.

“That wouldn’t have been hard to guess,” she said.

“Actually, I had the chapel described to me by my brother Mandor.  He claimed to have wandered into it at a party at Hendrake, not knowing what it was.”

She chuckled.

“He must have been testing you,” she said.  “The practice has been common knowledge for a long while: And I happen to know he’s a cultist himself.”

“Really? How do you know this?”

“He made no secret of it in the old days, before the general proscription.”

“And who might his personal patron be?” I said.

“The Princess Fiona,” she replied.

Curiouser and curiouser...

“You’ve actually seen his chapel to her?” I asked.

“Yes.  Before the ban it was not uncommon to have your friends over for a service whenever you were feeling particularly disgruntled with royal policy.”

“And after the ban?”

“Everyone claimed publicly that their shrines had been destroyed.  Many were simply relocated, I think, up hidden ways.”

“And the business of having friends over for services?”

“I’d guess it would depend on how good a friend you’re talking about.  I don’t really know how organized the Amber cult is.” She gestured widely.  “A place like this is illegal, though.  Good thing I don’t know where we are.”

“I guess so,” I said.  “What about the relationship between the cult figure and the real thing? I’d say that Mandor really does have a thing about Fiona.  He’s met her, you know, and I’ve been present and seen it.  Someone else I know stole something belonging to his-patron?-and keeps it in his shrine.  And that”- I rose, crossed the altar, and picked up Corwin’s sword-‘ ‘is the real thing.  I’d seen Grayswandir close-up, touched it, held it.  This is it.  But what I’m getting at is that my father is missing, and the last time I saw him he was wearing that blade.  Would it be in keeping with the tenets of this cult to keep your patron prisoner?”

“I never heard of such a thing,” she said.  “But I don’t see why not.  It is really the spirit of the person that is being venerated.  There is no reason the person could not be imprisoned.”

“Or dead?”

“Or dead,” she agreed.

“Then fascinating as all this is,” I said, turning away from the altar, “it doesn’t really help me to find my father.”

I moved back to her, across what must have been a representation of Amber, stylized as the pattern on a Caucasian rug, there in the dark and light tile, the Chaotic one far off to my right.

“You would have to ask the person responsible for his blade’s being there,” she said, rising.

“I already asked the person I believed responsible.  The response was not satisfactory.”

I took her arm to steer her back toward the way to the tree, and she was suddenly standing very close.

“I would like to serve our next king any way I might,” she said.  “Though I may not normally speak for our House, I am certain Hendrake would agree to help you bring pressure upon the person responsible.”

“Thanks,” I said as we embraced.  Her scales were cool.  Her fangs would have shredded my human ear, but it was only a nibble in demon-form.  “I will talk to you again if I need help along those lines.”

“Talk to me again, anyway.”

It was good to hold and be held for a time, and that is what we did, till I saw a shadow move in the vicinity of the way.

“Masster Merlin.”

“Glait!”

“Yess.  I ssaw you come thiss way.  Manform, demonform, grown or ssmall, I know you.”

“Merlin, what is it?” Gilva asked.

“An old friend,” I told her.  “Glait, meet Gilva.  And vice versa.”

“Pleassed.  I came to warn you that ssomeone approachess.”

“Who?”

“Princess Dara.”

“Oh, dear!” Gilva remarked.

“You suspect where we are,” I said to her.  “Keep it to yourself.”

“I value my head, Lord.  What do we do now?”

“Glait, to me,” I said, kneeling and extending an arm.  She flowed up it and made herself comfortable.  I rose and caught hold of Gilva with the other.  I sent my will into the spikard.

Then I hesitated

I didn’t know where the hell we were-really, physically, in terms of geography.  A way can deliver you next door, or somewhere thousands of miles distant from its point of origin, or somewhere off in Shadow.  It would take a while to have the spikard figure where we were and then work out the way back, if we were going to bypass the way.  Too long, I was certain.

I could simply use it to render us invisible.  But I feared my mother’s sorcerous sensitivity would be sufficient to detect our presence at levels beyond the visual.

I faced the nearest wall and extended my senses past it on a line of the spikard’s force.  We were not underwater or drifting on a sea of lava or quicksand.  We seemed to be in a wooded spot.

So I walked toward the wall and passed us through it when we got there.

Several paces later, in the midst of a shaded glade, I looked back and beheld a grassy hillside, with no singing coming from beneath it.  We stood under a blue sky, orange sun nearing its top.  There were bird and insect sounds about us.

“Marrow!” Glait exclaimed, unwound herself from my arm and vanished into the gasses.

“Don’t stay away long!” I hissed, trying to keep my voice low; and I led Gilva away from the hill.

“Merlin,” she said, “I’m frightened at what I’ve learned.”

“I won’t tell anyone if you won’t,” I said.  “If you’d like, I can even remove these memories before I send you back to the funeral.”

“No, let me keep them.  I can even wish there were more.”

“I’ll figure our location and get you back before you’re missed.”

“I’ll wait with you while your friend hunts.”

I half expected her to continue, “...  in case I never see you again,” what with the near skateboarding of Tmer and Tubble off this ever-mortal helix.  But no, she was a demure and well-bred battle-maid-with over thirty notches on the haft of her broadsword, I later learned-and she was above stating the distasteful obvious in the presence of her possible future liege.

When Glait returned after an appropriate time, I said, “Thanks, Gilva.  I’m going to send you back to the funeral now.  If anyone saw us together and wants to know where I am, tell them I said I was going into hiding.”

“If you do need a place to hide ...”

“Talk to you sometime later perhaps,” I said, and I sent her back to the temple at the edge of everything.

“Good vermin,” Glait remarked, as I commenced my shift human-ward.  (It’s always easier that way for me than the demon-shift.)

“I’d like to send you back to Sawall’s sculpture garden,” I said.

“Why there, Masster Merlin?”

“To wait for a time, to see whether you behold a sentient circle of light.  And if you do, to address it as Ghostwheel and tell it to come to me.”

“Where shall I tell it to sseek you?”

“That I do not know, but it is good at that sort of thing.”

“Then ssend me.  And if you are not eaten by ssomething bigger, come tell me your sstory one night.”

“I shall.”

It was the work of but a moment to hang the serpent back in her tree.

I’ve never been sure when she’s joking, reptilian humor being more than a little strange.

I summoned fresh garments and garbed myself in gray and purple.  Fetched me blades long and short then, also.  I wondered what my mother might have been up to in her chapel, but decided against trying to spy on her.  I raised the spikard and regarded it for a moment, then lowered it.  It seemed possibly counterproductive to transport myself to Kashfa when I was uncertain how much time had passed and whether Luke was actually still there.  I took out my Trumps, which I had had along in my mourning garb, uncased them.

I located Luke’s, focused upon it.  Before too long it went cold and I felt Luke’s presence.

“Yes?” he said.  “That you, Merle?” at about the same time as his image swam and altered, causing me to see him mounted and riding through a part-blasted, part-normal countryside.

“Yeah,” I answered.  “I gather you’re no longer in Kashfa.”

“Right,” he said.  “Where’re you?”

“Somewhere in Shadow.  How’s about yourself?”

“Damned if I know for sure,” he responded.  “We’ve been following this black path for days-and I can only say ‘somewhere in Shadow,’ too.”

“0h, you located it?”

“Nayda did.  I didn’t see anything, but she just led me on.  Eventually, the trail got clear to me.  Hell of a tracker, that gal.”

“She’s with you now?”

“That’s right.  She says we’re gaining on them, too.”

“Better bring me through then.”

“Come ahead.”

He extended a hand.  I reached forward, clasped it, took a step, released his hand, began walking beside him, a pack horse to the rear.

“Hi, Nayda!” I called, to where she rode at his other side.  A grim figure was mounted upon a black horse ahead and to her right.

She smiled.

“Merlin,” she said.  “Hello.”

“How about Merle?” I said.

“If you wish.”

The figure on the dark horse turned and regarded me.

I halted a death strike that ran from reflex to the spikard so fast that it scared me.  The air between us was smudged and filled with a screeching note, as of a car grabbing pavement to avert collision.

He was a big, blond-haired son of a bitch, and he had on a yellow shirt and black trousers, black boots, lots of cutlery.  The medallion of the Lion rending the Unicorn bounced upon his broad chest.  Every time I’d seen or heard of the man, he’d been about something nasty, damn near killing Luke on one occasion.  He was a mercenary, a Robin Hood figure out of Eregnor, and a sworn enemy of Amber-illegitimate son of her late liege Oberon.  I believed there was a price on his head within the Golden Circle.  On the other hand, he and Luke had been buddies for years, and Luke swore he wasn’t all that bad.  He was my uncle Dalt, and I’d a feeling that if he moved too quickly the flexing of his muscles would shred his shirt.

“...  And you remember my military adviser, Dalt,” Luke said.

“I remember,” I stated.

Dalt stared at the black lines in the air that faded, smoke-like, between us.  He actually smiled then, a little.

“Merlin,” he said, “son of Amber, Prince of Chaos, the man who dug my grave.”

“What’s this?” Luke asked.

“A little conversational gambit,” I replied.  “You’ve a good memory, Dalt-for faces.”

He chuckled.

“Hard to forget something like a grave opening itself,” he said.  “But I’ve no quarrel with you, Merlin.”

“Nor I you-now,” I said.

He grunted then and I grunted back and considered us introduced.  I turned back toward Luke.

“Is the path itself giving you any trouble?” I asked.

“No,” he replied.  “It’s nothing at all like those stories I’d heard about the Black Road.  It looks a little bleak at times, but nothing’s really threatened us.” He glanced downward and chuckled.  “Of course it’s only a few yards wide,” he added, “and this is the broadest it’s been, so far.”

“Still,” I said, opening my senses and studying its emanations with my Logrus sight, “I’d think something might have threatened.”

“I guess we’ve been lucky,” he said.

Again, Nayda laughed, and I felt foolish.  The presence of a ty’iga would count as surely as my own in offsetting the dire effects of a Chaos roadway in the realm of Order.

“Guess you had a little luck coming,” I said.

“You’re going to need a horse, Merle,” he said then. 

“I suppose you’re right,” I agreed.

I was afraid to use Logrus magic and call attention to my location.  Still, I had already learned that the spikard could be used in a similar fashion, and I entered it with my will, extended, extended, made contact, summoned...

“It’ll be along any minute,” I said.  “Did you say something about our gaining on them?”

“That’s what Nayda tells me,” he explained.  “She has an amazing rapport with her sister-not to mention a high sensitivity to this pathway itself.

“Knows a lot about demons, too,” he added.

“Oh, are we likely to encounter any?” I asked her.

“It was demon-formed warriors from the Courts who abducted Coral,” she said.  “They seem headed toward a tower up ahead.”

“How far ahead?” I asked.

“Hard to say, since we’re cutting through Shadow,” she answered.

The trail, which consisted of blackened grasses and which produced the same effect on any tree or shrub that so much as overhung it, wound its way through a hilly area now; and as I stepped onto and off of it I noted that it seemed brighter and warmer each time I departed.  It had reached this point now after having been virtually undetectable in the vicinity of Kashfa-an index of how far we were into the realm of the Logrus.

A little past the next bending of the trail, I heard a whinny from off to the right.

“Excuse me,” I said.  “Delivery time,” and I departed the trail and entered a grove of oval-leafed trees.

Snorting and stamping sounds reached me from ahead, and I followed them down shaded ways.  “Wait up!” Luke called.  “We shouldn’t separate.”

But the wood was fairly dense, not at all easy going for someone on horseback, so I hollered back, “Don’t worry!” and plunged ahead.

...  And that, of course, was why he was there.

Fully saddled and bridled, his reins tangled in the dense foliage, he was cursing in horse-talk, shaking his head from side to side, pawing at the earth.  I halted stared.

I may have given the impression that I would rather pull on a pair of Adidas and jog through Shadow than plunge through on the back of a beast driven half-mad by the changes going on about it.  Or ride a bicycle.  Or hop through on a pogo stick.

Nor would this impression be incorrect.  It is not that I don’t know how to drive the things.  It is just that I’d never been particularly fond of them.  Admitted, I never had the use of one of those wonder horses, such as Julian’s Morgenstern, Dad’s Star, or Benedict’s Glemdenning, which stood to mortal horses in terms of life span, strength, and endurance as did Amberites to the inhabitants of most shadows.

I looked all about, but could detect no injured rider...

“Merlin!” I heard Luke call, but my attention was nearer at hand.  I advanced slowly, not wanting to upset him further.  “Are you all right?”

I had simply put in an order for a horse.  Any old hay burner would have served, for purposes of keeping up with my companions.

I found myself looking at an absolutely lovely animal-black and orange-striped like a tiger.  In this, he resembled Glemdenning with his red and black striping.  In that I didn’t know where Benedict’s mount came from either, I was glad to let it be the place of magic.

I advanced slowly.

“Merle! Anything wrong?”

I didn’t want to shout back a reply and frighten the poor beast.  I placed my hand gently upon his neck.

“It’s okay,” I said.  “I like you.  I’ll undo it and we’ll be friends, all right?”

I took my time untangling the reins, using my other hand to massage his neck and shoulders.  When he was free he did not pull away, but seemed to study me.

“Come on,” I said, taking up the reins, “this way.”

I led him back the way I had come, talking the while.  I realized by the rime we emerged that I actually liked him.  I met Luke about then, a blade in his hand.

“My God!” he said.  “No wonder it took you so long! You stopped to paint it!”

“You like, huh?”

“You ever want to get rid of that one, I’ll make you a good offer.”

“I don’t think I’ll be getting rid of him,” I said.

“What’s his name?”

“Tiger,” I said without premeditation, and then I mounted.

We headed back to the trail, where even Dalt eyed my mount with something like pleasure.  Nayda reached out and stroked the black and orange mane.

“Now we may be able to make it in time,” she said, “if we hurry.”

I mounted, and I guided Tiger over onto the trail.  I anticipated all manner of reactions to the trail, as I recalled from my father’s story the possibly intimidating effects of the thing upon animals.  It didn’t seem to bother him, though, and I released the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

“In time for what?” I asked as we found a formation-Luke in the lead, Dalt behind him and to the right, Nayda to the left of the trail, rear, me to her right and somewhat back.

“I cannot tell for certain,” she said, “because she is still sedated.  However, I do know that she is no longer being moved; and I have the impression that her abductors have taken refuge in the tower, where the trail is much wider.”

“Hm,” I said.  “You wouldn’t have happened to notice the rate of change in width per unit of distance traveled on this trail, would you?”

“I was in liberal arts,” she said, smiling.  “Remember.”

She turned suddenly then, glancing in Luke’s direction.  He was still an entire horse’s length ahead, eyes front-though he had looked back moments before.

“Damn you!” she said softly.  “Being with you both this way gets me to thinking about school.  Then I start talking that way-“

“In English,” I said.

“Did I say that in English?”

“Yes.”

“Shit! Help me if you catch me at it, will you?”

“Of course,” I said.  “It seems to show you’d enjoyed it somewhat, despite its being a job Dara’d laid on you.  And you’re probably the only ty’iga with a degree from Berkeley.”

“Yes, I enjoyed it-confused as I was over which of you was which.  Those were the happiest days in my life, with you and Luke, back in school.  For years I tried to learn your mothers’ names so I’d know who I was supposed to be protecting.  You were both so cagey, though.”

“It’s in the genes, I guess,” I observed.  “I enjoyed your company as Vinta Bayle-appreciated your protection as others, too.”

“I suffered,” she said, “when Luke began his yearly attempts on your life.  If he were the son of Dara I was supposed to protect, it shouldn’t have mattered.  But it did.  I was already very fond of both of you.  All I could tell was that you were both of the blood of Amber.  I didn’t want either of you harmed.  The hardest thing was when you went away, and I was sure Luke had lured you into the mountains of New Mexico to kill you.  By then, I suspected very strongly that you were the one, but I was not certain.  I was in love with Luke, I had taken over the body of Dan Martinez, and I was carrying a pistol.  I followed you everywhere I could, knowing that if he tried to harm you the geas I was under would force me to shoot the man I loved.”

“You shot first, though.  We were just standing talking, by the side of the road.  He shot back in self-defense.”

“I know.  But everything seemed to indicate that you were in peril.  He’d taken you to a perfect spot for an execution, at an ideal time-“

“No,” I said.  “Your shot went wide, and you left yourself open for what followed.”

“I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

“You solved the problem of possibly having to shoot Luke by setting up a situation where he shot you.”

“I couldn’t do that, under a geas.”

“Maybe not consciously,” I said.  “So something stronger than the geas found a way.”

“You really believe that?”

“Yes, and it’s all right for you to admit it now.  You’re released from the geas.  My mother told me.  You told me-I think.”

She nodded.  “I don’t know exactly when it came undone, or how,” she said.  “But it’s gone-though I’d still try to protect you if something threatened.  It’s good that you and Luke are really friends, and-“

“So why the secret?” I interrupted.  “Why not just tell him you were Gail? Surprise the hell out of him-pleasantly.”

“You don’t understand,” she said.  “He broke up with me, remember? Now I’ve another chance.  It’s like it was, all over again.  He-likes me a lot.  I’m afraid to say, ‘I’m really the girl you once broke up with.’ It might get him to thinking of all the reasons why, and make him decide he was right the first time.”

“That’s silly,” I said.  “I don’t know what reasons he gave.  He never told me about it.  Just said there’d been an argument.  But I’m sure they were specious.  I know he liked you.  I’m sure he really broke up with you because he was a son of Amber about to come home on some very nasty business, and there was no room for what he thought was a normal shadow girl in the picture.  You’d played your part too well.”

“Is that why you broke up with Julia?” she asked.

“No,” I said.

“Sorry.”

I noticed the black trail had widened about a foot since we’d begun talking.  I was in the market for a mathematical problem just then.