Prince of Chaos

Chapter 10

And so we rode — six paces along a city street, amid the blare of horns, our black way edged by skid marks; a quarter mile along a black sand beach, beside a soft green sea, stirring palms to our left; across a tarnished snowfield; beneath a bridge of stone, our way a dead and blackened streambed; then to prairie; back to wooded way — and Tiger never flinched, even when Dalt put a booted foot through a windshield and broke off an antenna.

The way continued to widen, to perhaps twice its width when I had first come upon it. Stark trees were more common within it now, standing like photographic negatives of their bright mates but a few feet off the trail. While the leaves and branches of these latter were regularly stirred, we felt no wind at all. The sounds of our voices, of our mounts’ hooves — came somehow muted now, also. Our entire course had a constant, wavery twilight atmosphere to it, no matter that a few paces away — which brief excursion we essayed many times it might be high noon or midnight. Dead-looking birds were perched within the blackened trees, though they seemed on occasion to move, and the raspy, croaking sounds that sometimes came to us may well have been theirs.

At one time, a fire raged to our right; at another, we seemed to be passing near the foot of a glacier on the left. Our trail continued to widen — nothing like the great Black Road Corwin had described to me from the days of the war, but big enough now for us all to ride abreast.

“Luke,” I said, after a time.

“Yeah?” he answered, from my left. Nayda rode to my right now, and Dalt to her right. “What’s up?”

“I don’t want to be king.”

“Me neither,” he said. “How hard they pushing you?”

“I’m afraid they’re going to grab me and crown me if I go back. Everybody in my way died suddenly. They really plan to stick me on the throne, to marry me to Coral —”

“Uh-huh,” he said, “and I’ve two questions about it. First, will it work?”

“The Logrus seems to think it will, at least for a time — which is all politics is about, anyhow.”

“Second,” he said, “if you feel about the place the way I feel about Kashfa, you’re not going to let it go to hell if you can help it — even if it means some personal misery. You don’t want to take the throne, though, so you must have worked out some alternative remedy. What is it?”

I nodded as the trail turned sharply to the left and headed uphill. Something small and dark scuttled across our path.

“I’ve a notion — not even a full idea,” I said, “which I want to discuss with my father.”

“Tall order,” he said. “You know for sure that he’s even alive?”

“I talked to him not all that long ago — very briefly. He’s a prisoner, somewhere. All I know for sure is that it’s somewhere in the vicinity of the Courts — because I can reach him by Trump from there, but nowhere else.”

“Tell me about this communication,” he said.

And so I did, black bird and all.

“Sounds like busting him out’s going to be tricky,” he said. “And you think your mom’s behind it?”

“Yep.”

“I thought I was the only one with these maternal problems. But it figures, seeing as yours trained mine.”

“How come we turned out so normal?” I said.

He just stared at me for several seconds. Then he started to laugh.

“Well, I feel normal,” I said.

“Of course,” he said quickly then, “and that’s what counts. Tell me, if it came to an out-and-out crossing of powers, do you think you could beat Dara?”

“Hard to say,” I told him. “I’m stronger now than I ever was before, because of the spikard. But I’m beginning to believe she’s very good.”

“What the hell’s a spikard?” So I told him that story, too.

“That’s why you were so flashy back in the church when you were fighting with Jurt?” he said.

“That’s right.”

“Let’s see it.”

I tried to pull it off, but it wouldn’t pass the knuckle.

So I simply extended my hand. Luke reached for it. His fingers halted a couple of inches above it.

“It’s holding me off, Merle. Protective little devil.”

“Hell,” I said, “I’m not a shapeshifter for nothing.” I took hold of it then, slimmed my finger suddenly, and slid it off. “Here.”

He held it in the palm of his left hand as we bounced along, regarding it through narrowed eyes. Suddenly, I felt dizzy. Withdrawal symptoms from the thing? I forced myself upright, reversed my breathing, refused to let it show.

“Heavy,” Luke said at last. “I can feel the power there. Other things, too. It won’t let me in, though.”

I reached for it and he drew his hand away.

“I can feel it in the air all around us,” he said. “Merle, this thing lays a spell on anybody who wears it.

I shrugged.

“Yes,” I said. “A benign one, though. It’s done nothing to harm me, and it’s helped me a number of times.”

“But can you trust anything that came to you in such an odd way — almost by trickery, caused you to abandon Frakir when she tried to warn you about it, and for all you know has been influencing your behavior ever since you put it on?”

“I admit to a kind of disorientation at first,” I said, “but I think that was just in the way of accommodation to the levels of voltage it draws. I’ve been back to normal for some time now.”

“How can you tell for sure? Maybe it’s brainwashed you.”

“Do I seem brainwashed to you?”

“No. I was just trying to say that I wouldn’t completely trust anything with such questionable credentials.”

“Well taken,” I agreed, holding forth my hand. “But so far the benefits have outweighed any hypothetical dangers. Consider me warned, and I’ll take my chances.”

He handed it back.

“If I think it’s making you act weird I’m going to hit you over the head and pull it off, though.”

“Fair enough,” I said, slipping it back on. Immediately, I felt a rush of energy throughout my system as the lines of control were reestablished.

“If you’re not sure you can force the information out of your mother,” he said, “how do you propose finding Corwin and freeing him?”

“Several things suggest themselves,” I said. “The simplest way may be a foot in the door technique. That is, I’d open all of the channels on the spikard and go for another Trump contact. As soon as there’s any sort of opening I’d just push ahead with full force, jamming any spells that try to stop me and burning them out.”

“Sounds as if it could be dangerous.”

“I can’t think of any way to go about this that wouldn’t be.”

“Then why haven’t you tried it?”

“It only occurred to me recently, and I haven’t had the time since then.”

“However you go about it, you’re going to need some help,” he said. “So count me in.”

“Thanks, Luke. I —”

“Now, about the king business,” he said. “What happens if you simply refuse to take the throne? Who’s next in line?”

“It’s a bit tangled when you come to Sawall,” I said. “By rights, Mandor should be first in line of succession from our House. He’d removed himself from the line years ago, though.”

“Why?”

“I believe he claimed he was unfit to rule.”

“No offense, Merle. But he seems like the only one of you who is fit for the job.”

“Oh, without a doubt,” I responded. “Most of the Houses have someone like him, though. There’s usually a nominal head and a de facto one, someone for show and someone for scheming. Mandor likes the climate behind the scenes.”

“Sounds as if your House has two,” he said.

“I’m not really clear on it,” I said. “I don’t know Dara’s status right now in her father’s House — Helgram — or her mother’s — Hendrake. But it might be worth a power struggle within Sawall if that’s where the next king is coming from. Still, the more I learn of Mandor the more intimidating such a struggle would seem. I’d guess they’re cooperating.”

“I take it you’re next in line, and then Jurt?”

“Actually, our brother Despil is next after me. Jurt said that Despil would probably step aside for him, but I think that was wishful thinking. I’m not at all sure he would. Anyhow, Jurt says now that he isn’t interested.”

“Ha! I think he’s just taking a different approach. You whipped him too many times, and he’s trying to get in good with you. Hope that spikard can protect your back.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I’d like to believe him. He spent a lot of time making sure that it wouldn’t be easy, though.”

“Supposing you all decline. Who’s next?”

“I’m not certain,” I said, “but I think it would go to Hendrake then.”

“Damn,” Luke said. “It’s as twisted a place as Amber, isn’t it?”

“Neither one’s twisted, exactly. Just a little complicated, till you’ve learned the ropes.”

“What say I just listen, and you fill me in on everything that you haven’t so far?”

“Good idea.”

So I talked for a long while, breaking to summon food and water. We halted twice during that time, causing me to realize just how tired I had become. And briefing Luke reminded me yet again that I should be telling all of this to Random. But if I got in touch and tried it I was certain he would order me back to Amber. And I couldn’t disobey a direct order from the king, even if I was almost his opposite number.

“We’re getting nearer,” Nayda announced somewhat later, and I noted that our roadway had widened even more, almost to the point she’d described. I drew a jolt of energy into my system, digested it, and kept going.

Shortly thereafter, she remarked, “Much nearer.”

“Like just around the corner?” Luke asked.

“Could be,” she answered. “I can’t be more precise, the condition she’s in.”

But a little later, we heard distant shouts.

Luke drew rein.

“Something about a tower,” he said.

She nodded.

“Were they heading for it, holing up in it, or defending themselves there?”

“All of the above,” she said. “I understand now. Her captors were pursued, headed for a place of refuge, reached it, are there now.”

“How come you’re suddenly that precise?”

She gave me a quick look that I took as a request for an explanation other than ty’iga powers.

“I was using the spikard,” I offered, “trying to see whether I could give her a clearer vision.”

“Good,” Luke said. “Can you boost it even more, so we can see what we’re up against?”

“I can try,” I said, narrowing my eyes at her in inquiry. She responded with a very slight nod.

I wasn’t certain how to go about it, so I just fed her energy in the way of that jolt I’d given myself a while back.

“Yes,” she said after a few moments, “Coral and her captors — six of them, I believe — have taken refuge in a tower near here. They are under attack.”

“How large is the party of attackers?” Luke asked.

“Small,” she said. “Quite small. I can’t give you a number.”

“Let’s go and see,” Luke said, and he led the way, Dalt behind him.

“Three or four,” Nayda whispered to me, “but they’re Pattern ghosts. That’s probably all it can maintain this far from home, on a Black Road.”

“Ouch,” I said. “This makes it tricky.”

“How so?”

“It means I have relatives on both sides.”

“It also looks as if Amber’s ghosts and the Court’s demons are only agents, and that it’s really a confrontation between the Logrus and the Pattern.”

“Damn! Of course!” I said. “It could easily escalate into another of those. I’m going to have to warn Luke what we’re riding into.”

“You can’t! Not without telling him what I am!”

“I’ll tell him I learned it myself — that I had a sudden insight into a new spell.”

“But what then? Which side are you on? What do we do?”

“Neither,” I said. “We’re on our own, and against both of them.”

“You’re crazy! There’s no place you can hide, Merle! The Powers divide the universe between them!”

“Luke!” I cried. “I just probed ahead, learned the attackers are Pattern ghosts!”

“You don’t say?” he called back. “Think we should be taking their side? It’s probably better for the Pattern to take her back than for the Courts to get her, wouldn’t you think?”

“She shouldn’t be used that way,” I said. “Let’s take her away from both of them.”

“I agree with your feelings,” he stated. “But what if we succeed? I don’t really care to be struck by a meteor or transported to the bottom of the nearest ocean.”

“As near as I can tell, the spikard doesn’t draw its power from the Pattern or the Logrus. Its sources are scattered through Shadow.”

“So? I’m sure it’s not a match for either one, let alone both.”

“No, but I can use it to start an evasion course. They’ll be getting in each other’s way if they decide to pursue us.”

“But eventually they’d find us, wouldn’t they?”

“Maybe, maybe not,” I said. “I have some ideas, but we’re running out of time.”

“Dalt, did you hear all that?” Luke asked. “I did,” Dalt replied.

“If you want out, now’s your chance.”

“And miss an opportunity to twist the Unicorn’s tail?” he said. “Keep riding!”

We did, and the shouts grew louder as we raced ahead. There was a certain timeless feeling to it, though — with the muffled sounds and the dimness — as if we har always been riding here and always would be…

Then we rounded a bend and I saw the top of the tower in the distance, heard more shouts. We slowed as we came to the next turn, advancing more cautiously, working our way through a small stand of black saplings.

Finally, we halted, dismounted, worked our way forward on foot. We pushed aside the final screening branches and looked down a slight slope to a blackened, sandy plain beside a three-story gray tower with slit windows and a narrow entranceway. It took a while to sort out the tableau at its base.

There were two demonformed individuals standing to either side of the tower’s entrance. They were armed and their attention seemed focused upon the contest taking place on the sands before them. Familiar figures stood at the far end of this impromptu arena and at either side: Benedict stroked his chin, expressionless; Eric hunkered and smiled; Caine juggled, flipped, palmed, and passed a dagger, reflexively, through some private routine, an expression of amused fascination on his face. From the tower’s top, I suddenly noted, two horned demons leaned forward, their gazes as intent as those of Amber’s Pattern ghosts.

At the circle’s center Gerard faced a demonformed son of Hendrake, of his own height and greater girth. It looked to be Chinaway himself, who was said to have a collection of over two hundred skulls of those he’d dispatched. I preferred Gerard’s collection of a thousand or so mugs, steins, and drinking horns, but your ghost will walk, you lover of trees, in an English lane, if you know what I mean.

Both were stripped to the waist, and from the scuffed up condition of the sands about them I guessed they had been at it for some time. Chinaway tried to trip Gerard just then, who caught his arm and head as he stepped behind him, and sent him cartwheeling away. The demon lord came up on his feet, however, and immediately advanced once again, arms extended, hands weaving a sinuous pattern before him. Gerard simply waited in a ready position. Chinaway stabbed taloned fingers toward Gerard’s eyes and hooked a blow against his rib cage. Gerard caught hold of his shoulder, however, as Chinaway dropped and caught him about the thigh.

“Let’s wait,” Dalt said softly. “I want to watch.” Luke and I both nodded as Gerard locked Chinaway’s head and Chinaway wrapped his other arm about Gerard’s waist. Then they simply stood there, muscles bulging beneath two hides, one pale and smooth, the other red and scaly. Their lungs worked like bellows.

“I assume the thing’s been dragging out,” Luke whispered, “and they decided to settle it champion against champion.”

“Looks that way,” I said.

“Coral must be inside then, wouldn’t you think?”

“Wait a minute.”

I ran a quick probe into the structure, locating two people within. I nodded then.

“Her and a single guard, I’d say.”

Gerard and Chinaway still stood like statues.

“Now might be the best time to grab Coral,” Luke said, “while everybody’s watching the fight.”

“You’re probably right,” I told him. “Let me see whether I can make myself invisible. That might simplify matters.”

“Okay,” he said about a quarter minute later. “Whatever you did just then worked. You’re gone.”

“Indeed I am,” I said. “Back in a bit.”

“How will you get her out?”

“I’ll decide after I’ve reached her. Just be ready.”

I moved slowly, careful not to scuff the sand. I skirted the circle, passing behind Caine. I approached the door to the tower, soundless, checking about me constantly. Gerard and Chinaway still stood exactly as they had been, locked, and applying enormous pressures to each other.

I passed between the guards, entering the dim interior of the tower. It consisted of a single round room with a bare earth floor, stone pedestals beneath each slit window. A ladder led up to the second floor through a hole in the ceiling. Coral lay upon a blanket to my left; the individual who was ostensibly guarding her stood upon a pedestal, watching the fight through the nearest window.

I moved nearer, knelt, caught up her left wrist and felt her pulse. It was strong and steady. I decided against trying to awaken her, though. Instead, I wrapped the blanket around her, raised her in my arms, and stood.

I was about to try extending the invisibility spell to include her when the watcher at the window turned. I must have made some noise in moving her.

For a moment, the guard stared at the sight of his prisoner drifting below him. Then he opened his mouth, as if to give alarm — leaving me with small choice but to shock his nervous system into insensibility with a charge from my ring.

Unfortunately, there was a rattle of arms as he fell from his pedestal to the floor. Almost immediately, I heard a cry from overhead; followed by sounds of rapid movement.

Turning, I hurried to the door. I had to slow and turn because of its narrowness. I wasn’t certain what the guards outside would think when a comatose Coral drifted by, but I didn’t want to be trapped inside. Peering ahead, I saw that Gerard and Chinaway seemed in the same position as before. Seconds later, however, as I turned my body and took my first sidling step, there came a sudden, sharp twisting movement from Gerard, followed immediately by a sound like that of a snapping stick.

Gerard let his arms fall and stood erect. The body of Chinaway hit the ground at his side, neck at an unnatural angle. Eric and Caine applauded. The two guards beside the door moved forward. Behind me, within, the ladder rattled at the other side of the room. I heard a cry from that direction.

Two more steps and I turned, headed left. The outside guards were rushing toward their fallen champion. A half dozen paces, and there were more cries at my back, as my pursuers exited the tower; and there were human cries as well, from the killing circle.

I knew that I couldn’t outrun any of them, carrying my burden; and all that motor activity interfered with my concentration to the point where I was incapable of performing magical operations.

So I dropped to my knees, lowering Coral to the ground before me, turned without even rising, and extended my left fist, plunging my mind deep within the ring, calling for extreme measures to halt the pair of Hendrake commandos who were only a few paces away now, edged weapons ready to pierce and to slash.

… And then they were caught up in the midst of flames. I think they screamed, but there was a lot of noise just then. Two paces more, perhaps, and they fell, blackened and twitching, before me. My hand was shaking, from its proximity to the powers that caused this; and I hadn’t time, even, to think or to feel as I swung toward the sandy place of the recent contest and whatever might be coming at me from that direction.

One of the two guards who had rushed forward lay smoldering on the ground at Eric’s feet. Another — who had apparently attacked Caine — clutched at the knife in his gullet, fires spreading outward, downward, upward, from his throat, as he sank slowly, then toppled to the rear.

Immediately, Caine, Eric, and Benedict turned to stare at me. Gerard, having just drawn on a blue shirt, was buckling his swordbelt in place. He turned, too, just as Caine said, “And who, sir, are you?”

“Merlin,” I replied, “son of Corwin.” Caine actually looked startled.

“Does Corwin have a son?” he asked the others. Eric shrugged and Gerard said, “I don’t know.” But Benedict studied me.

“There is a resemblance,” he said.

“True,” Caine agreed. “All right, boy. Even if you are Corwin’s son, that woman you’re making off with belongs to us. We just won her fair and square off these well-done Chaosites.”

With that, he began walking toward me. A moment later, Eric joined him. Then Gerard fell into step behind them. I didn’t want to harm them, even if they were only ghosts, so I gestured and a line was drawn in the sand before them. Immediately, it caught fire.

They halted.

Suddenly, a huge figure appeared at my left. It was Dalt, a naked blade in his hand. A moment later, Luke was there. Then Nayda. The four of us faced the four of them, across the fire.

“She’s ours now,” Dalt said, and he took a single step forward.

“You are mistaken,” came the reply, and Eric crossed the line, drawing his weapon.

Dalt was a couple of inches taller than Eric, and he had a longer reach. He moved forward immediately. I expected some kind of cut from that big blade he carried, but he went in for a point-attack. Eric, using a lighter weapon, sidestepped and came in under his arm. Dalt dropped the point of his blade, moved to his left, and parried it. The two weapons were suited for very different styles — Eric’s being at the heaviest end of the rapier class, Dalt’s at the lighter end of broadsword. Dalt’s could be a single-handed weapon for a big-enough, strong-enough guy. I’d have had to use it two-handed myself. Dalt tried an upward cut just then, of the sort a Japanese swordsman would refer to as kiriage. Eric simply stepped back and tried for a wrist cut as it passed him. Dalt suddenly moved his left hand to the haft and executed a blinding two-handed cut of the sort known as naname giri. Eric continued to circle, trying for the wrist yet again.

Suddenly, Dalt opened his right hand and let it drift back, as his right foot performed a huge semicircular step to his rear and his left arm moved forward, leaving him in a left-handed European en garde position, from which that massive arm and matching blade immediately extended, performing an inside beat upon Eric’s blade followed by a lunge. Eric parried as his right foot crossed behind his left and he sprang backward. Even so, I saw a spark as his guard was creased. He feinted in sixte, however, dropped his point beneath the parry that followed, extended his arm in quatre; raised himself and his blade into something resembling a stop-thrust targeting the left shoulder as the parry crossed, turned his wrist, and slashed Dalt across the left forearm.

Caine applauded, but Dalt simply brought his hands together and separated them again, executing a little hopstep as he did so, leaving him in a right en garde position. Eric drew circles in the air with the point of his weapon and smiled.

“Cute little dance routine you have there,” he said.

Then Eric lunged, was parried, retreated, sidestepped, threw a front kick at Dalt’s kneecap, missed, then moved with perfect timing as Dalt attempted a head cut. Switching to the Japanese himself, he spun in to the larger man’s right, a maneuver I’d seen in a kumatchi exercise, his own blade rising and falling as Dalt’s cut swept past. Dalt’s right forearm went suddenly wet, a thing I did not really notice until after Eric had rotated his weapon, blade pointing outward and upward, and, the guard covering his knuckles, had driven his fist against the right side of Dalt’s jaw. He kicked him then behind the knee and struck him with his left shoulder. Dalt stumbled and fell. Eric immediately kicked him, kidney, elbow, thigh — the latter only because he missed the knee — set his boot upon Dalt’s weapon and swung his own about to bring its point in line with the man’s heart.

I had been hoping all along, I suddenly realized, that Dalt would kick Eric’s ass — not just because he was on my side and Eric wasn’t, but because of the rough time Eric had given my dad. On the other hand, I doubted there were too many people of such ass-kicking prowess about. Unfortunately, two of them stood on the other side of the line I had drawn. Gerard could have outwrestled him. Benedict, Master of Arms at Amber, could have beaten him with any weapon. I just didn’t see us as having much of a chance against them all, with Caine thrown in for good measure — not even with a ty’iga on our side. And if I were suddenly to tell Eric that Dalt was his half brother, it wouldn’t slow his thrust by an instant, even if he believed me.

So I made the only decision I could make. They were, after all, only Pattern ghosts. The real Benedict and Gerard were somewhere else at this moment and would in no way be harmed by anything I did to their doubles here. Eric and Caine were, of course, long dead, Caine being the fratricidal hero of the Patternfall war and subject of a recent statue on the Grand Concourse, on the occasion of Luke’s assassinating him for killing his father. And Eric, of course, had found a hero’s death on the slopes of Kolvir, saving him, I suppose, from dying at the hands of my father. The bloody history of my family swam through my head as I raised the spikard to add a footnote to it, calling again for the wave of incineration that had taken out two of my Hendrake kin.

My arm felt as if someone had struck it with a baseball bat. A wisp of smoke rose from the spikard. For a moment, my four upright uncles stood unmoving. And my fifth remained supine.

Then, slowly, Eric raised his weapon. And he continued to raise it, as Benedict, Caine, and Gerard drew theirs. He straightened as he held it before his face. The others did the same. It looked strangely like a salute; and Eric’s eyes met mine.

“I know you,” he said.

Then they all completed the gesture, and faded, faded, turned to smoke, and blew away.

Dalt bled, my arm ached, and I figured out what was going on just moments before Luke gasped and said, “Over there.”

My line of fire had gone out some time ago, but beyond the mark it had left, where my faded kinsmen had just been standing, the air began to shimmer.

“That will be the Pattern,” I said to Luke, “come calling.”

A moment later the Sign of the Pattern hovered before us.

“Merlin,” it said, “you certainly move around a lot.”

“My life has become very busy of late,” I said.

“You took my advice and left the Courts.”

“Yes, that seemed prudent.”

“But I do not understand your purposes here.”

“What’s to understand?”

“You took the lady Coral away from the agents of the Logrus.”

“That’s right.”

“But then you attempted to keep her from my agents as well.”

“That, too, is correct.”

“You must realize by now that she bears something that contributes to our balance of power.”

“Yes.”

“So one of us must have her. Yet you would deny us both.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“It’s her whom I care about. She has rights and feelings. You’re treating her like a game piece.”

“True. I recognize her personhood, but unfortunately she is become both.”

“Then I would deny her to both of you. Nothing would be changed, in that neither of you has her now, anyway. But I would take her out of the game.”

“Merlin, you are a more important piece than she is, but you are still only a piece and you may not dictate to me. Do you understand?”

“I understand my value to you,” I said.

“I think not,” it responded.

I was wondering just then how strong it really was in this place. It seemed obvious that in terms of energy expenditure, it had been necessary for it to release its four ghosts to be able to manifest itself here. Dared I oppose it with every channel on the spikard opened? I had never tried accessing every Shadow source it controlled simultaneously. If I did this, and if I were to move very quickly, could I get us all out of here before the Pattern reacted? If I couldn’t, could I punch through whatever it raised up to stop us? And if I succeeded either way — to what place should we flee?

Finally, how might this affect the Pattern’s attitude toward me?

(… if you are not eaten by something bigger, come tell me your story one night.)

What the hell, I decided. It is a good day to be listed a la carte.

I opened all the channels.

It felt as if I had been jogging along at a good clip and a brick wall had suddenly appeared six inches before me.

I felt the smash and I went away.

I lay upon a smooth, cool stone surface. There was a terrible rushing of energies in my mind and body. I reached into their source and took control of them, dampening them to something that didn’t threaten to take the top of my head off. Then I opened one eye, slightly.

The sky was very blue. I saw a pair of boots, standing a few feet off, faced away from me. I recognized them as Nayda’s, and turning my head slightly, I saw that she wore them. I also saw then that Dalt lay sprawled several yards off to my left.

Nayda was breathing heavily, and my Logrus vision showed a pale red light about her vibrating hands, menacing.

Propping myself upon my left elbow and peering about her, I saw that she stood between me and the Sign of the Pattern that hovered in the air perhaps ten feet away.

When it spoke again it was the first time I’d heard it express anything like amusement: “You would protect him, against me?”

“Yes,” she replied.

“Why?”

“I did it for so long that it would be a shame to fail him when he really needs it.”

“Creature of the Pit, do you know where you stand?” it asked.

“No,” she said.

I looked beyond them both at a perfectly clear blue sky. The surface upon which I lay was a level area of rock, perhaps oval in shape, opening onto nothing. A quick turning of my head showed that it seemed bitten out of a mountainside, however, several dark recesses to the rear indicating the possibility of caves. I saw, too, that Coral lay behind me. Our stony shelf was several hundred meters wide. And there was movement beyond Nayda and the Sign of the Pattern. Luke had just hauled himself up into a kneeling position.

I could have answered the question put to Nayda, but there was no percentage in my doing so. Not when she was doing such a fine job of holding our captor’s attention and providing a crucial respite.

To my left, I saw gold-pink swirls within the stone, and though I had never been here I recalled the description from my father’s story and knew this to be the place of the primal Pattern, the deeper level of reality that underlay Amber itself.

I rolled onto all fours then, and crawled a few steps, seaward, Patternward.

“You are at the other end of the universe, ty’iga, in the place of my greatest power.”

Dalt groaned and rolled over, sat up, massaged his eyes with the palms of his hands.

I could feel something like a vibration just at the edge of hearing coming from Nayda now, and her entire form had taken on that reddish glow. I knew that she would die if she attacked the Sign, and I realized that I would attack it myself if it killed her.

I heard a moan from Coral.

“You will not hurt my friends,” Nayda said.

I wondered then at its slapping me down before I could use the spikard, and transporting us immediately to its stronghold. Did this mean I might actually have had a chance against it, out there in Logrus territory where it was weakened?

“Creature of the Pit,” it told her, “such a doomed, pathetic gesture as yours verges on the heroic. I feel a certain fondness for you. Would that I had such a friend. No, I will not harm your companions. But I must detain Coral and Merlin here as power counters, and the rest of you for political reasons, until this dispute with my adversary is settled.”

“Detain?” she said. “Here?”

“There are comfortable quarters within the rock,” it said.

I rose carefully to my feet, fumbling at my belt for my dagger.

Luke got up and walked over to Coral, knelt beside her.

“Are you awake?” he asked.

“Sort of,” she answered.

“Can you stand?”

“Maybe.”

“Let me help you.”

Dalt rose while Luke was assisting her. I continued to sidle toward the design. Where was Dworkin when I really needed him?

“You may enter the caves behind you and inspect your quarters,” the Sign said. “But first you must remove that ring, Merlin.”

“No, now’s hardly a time to be unpacking and getting comfortable,” I answered, slashing my left palm with the dagger and taking a final step. “We won’t be staying long.”

A sound like a small thunderclap emerged from the Sign of the Pattern, but there was no lightning, nor did I think there would be. Not when it realized what I was holding in my hand, and where I was holding it.

“A thing I learned from Luke’s father,” I explained. “Let’s talk.”

“Yes,” said the Sign of the Pattern, “like the reasonable beings that we are. Would you care for some cushions?”

Immediately, three such objects appeared nearby.

“Thanks,” I said, drawing up a green one. “I could sure use an iced tea.”

“Do you take sugar?”