The Chronicles of Amber

Prologue

It was almost too easy. A turning, a twisting, a doubling back...

And then he faced a rough, slanted wall, looked up and saw the shaft. He commenced climbing.

It was no longer easy. A swaying sensation began - faint, then distinct-as if he were mounting into the uppermost branches of a tall tree. His way brightened end then dimmed, repeatedly, in no perceptible pattern. After a time, his eyes ached. Images doubled, wavered...

When the way grew suddenly level he doubted his vision, till his extended hand assured him that there was indeed a choice of passages.

He leaned and moved his head into each of these. The faint musical sound seemed slightly louder in the one to the left, and he followed it. Of that, at least, he was certain.

Now his way rose and fell. He climbed up, he climbed down. The brightening and dimming continued, only now the brightness was brighter and the dimness dimmer.

And the sensations of external movement had nit abated. The floor of the tunnel seemed to ripple beneath his feet, the walls and roof to contract and expand. He stumbled, caught himself. Stumbled again...

At the next turning the sounds grew slightly louder, and he realized that they were not a tune, but rather a totally random concatenation of noises.

He climbed. He descended. The passageway shrank, and finally he crawled.

The sensations of movement increased. At times he seemed to be spinning; other times, it felt as if he were falling into an enormous abyss.

The flashes of light now drove nails of pain into skull. He began to hallucinate. Faces and figures. Flames. Or were they hallucinations?

He felt the first faint pulsation upon his left wrist...

How long had he been moving? His clothes were already in tatters and he bled, painlessly, from a dozen scrapes and lacerations.

He descended a well and emerged somehow upward onto a floor. Mad laughter rang about him, ceasing only when he realized it to be his own.

The sounds grew even louder, until it lefts as if he negotiated a gallery of demonic bells - wild, out of phage, their vibrations beating against him.

Thinking became painful. He knew that he must not stop, that he must not turn back, that he must not take any of the lesser turnings where the sounds came softer. Any of these courses would prove fatal. He reduced this to one imperative: Continue.

Again, a pulsing at his wrist, and a faint, slow movement...

He gritted his teeth when he saw that he must climb once more, for her limbs had grown heavy. Each movement seemed as if it were performed underwater - slowly, requiring more than normal effort.

A screen of smoke offered frightening resistance. He drove himself against it for an age before he passed through and felt his movement become easy once again. Six times this occurred, and each time the pressure against him was greater.

When he crawled out, drooling and dripping blood, on the other side of the chamber from which he had entered, his eyes darted wildly and could not fix upon the small, dark figure which stood before him.

"You are a fool," it told him.

It took some time for the words to register, and when they did he lacked the strength with which to reply.

"A lucky fool," it went on, darkness flowing about it like wings. (Or were they really wings?) "I had not judged you ready to essay the Logrus for a long while yet."

He closed his eyes against this speaker, and an image of the route he had followed danced within his mind's seeing, like a bright, torn web folding in a breeze.

"...And a fool not to have borne a blade and so enchanted it... or a mirror, a chalice, or a wand to brace your magic. No, all I see is a piece of rope. You should have waited, for more instruction, for greater strength; What say you?"

He raised himself from the floor, and a mad light danced within his eyes.

"It was time," he said. "I was ready."

"And a cord! What a half-ass-luck!"

The cord, glowing now, tightened about his throat.

When the other released it, the dark one coughed and nodded.

"Perhaps you knew what you were doing - on that count..." it muttered. "Is it really time? You will be leaving?"

"Yes."

A dark cloak fell upon his shoulders. He heard the splash of water within a flask.

"Here."

As he drank, the cord wrapped itself about his wrist and vanished.

"Thanks, Uncle." he said, after several swallows. The dark figure shook its head. "Impulsive," it said. "Just like your father."

Chapter 1

It is a pain in the ass waiting around for someone to try to kill you. But it was April 30, and of course it would happen as it always did. It had taken me a while to catch on, but now I at least knew when it was coming. In the past, I'd been too busy to do anything about it. But my job was finished now. I'd only stayed around for this. I felt that I really ought to clear the matter up before I departed. I got out of bed, visited the bathroom,showered, brushed my teeth, et cetera. I'd grown a beard again, so I didn't have to shave. I was not jangling with strange apprehensions, as I had been on that April 30 three years ago when I'd awakened with a headache and a premonition, thrown open the windows, and gone to the kitchen to discover all of the gas burners turned on and flameless. No. It wasn't even like the April 30 two years ago in the other apartment when I awoke before dawn to a faint smell of smoke to learn that the place was on fire. Still, I stayed out of direct line of the light fixtures in case the bulbs were filled with something flammable, and I flipped all of the switches rather than pushing them. Nothing untoward followed these actions.

Usually, I set up the coffee maker the night before with a timer. This morning, though, I didn't want coffee that had been produced out of my sight. I set a fresh pot going and checked my packing while I waited for it to brew. Everything I valued in this place resided in two medium-sized cratesclothing, books, paintings, some instruments, a few souvenirss, and so forth. I sealed the cases. A change of clothing, a sweatshirt, a good paperback, and a wad of traveler's checks went into the backpack. I'd drop my key off at the manager's on the way out, so he could let the movers in. The crates would go into storage.

No jogging for me this morning.

As I sipped my coffee, passing from window to window and pausing beside each for sidelong surveys of the streets below and the buildings across the way (last year's attempt had been by someone with a rifle), I thought back to the first time it had happened, seven years ago. I had simply been walking down the street on a bright spring afternoon when an oncoming truck had swerved, jumped the curb, and nearly combined me with portions of a brick wall. I was able to dive out of the way and roll. The driver never regained consciousness. It had seemed one of those freak occurrences that occasionally invade the lives of us all.

The following year to the day, however, I was walking home from my lady friend's place late in the evening when three men attacked me - one with a knife, the other two with lengths of pipe - without even the courtesy of first asking for my wallet.

I left the remains in the doorway of a nearby record store, and while I thought about it on the way home it did not strike me until the following day that it had been the anniversary of the truck crash. Even then, I dismissed it as an odd coincidence. The matter of the mail bomb that had destroyed half of another apartment the following year did cause me to begin wondering whether the statistical nature of reality might not be under a strain in my vicinity at that season. And the events of subsequent years served to turn this into a conviction.

Someone enjoyed trying to kill me once a year, it was as simple as that. The effort failing, there would be another year's pause before an attempt was made again. It seemed almost a game.

But this year I wanted to play, too. My main concern was that he, she, or it seemed never to be present when the event occurred, favoring stealth and gimmicks or agents. I will 'refer to this person as S (which sometimes stands for «sneak» and sometimes for «shithead» in my private cosmology), because X has been overworked and because I do not like to screw around with pronouns with disputable antecedents.

I rinsed my coffee cup and the pot and set them in the rack. Then I picked up my bag and departed. Mr. Mulligan wasn't in, or was sleeping, so I left my key in his mailbox before heading up the street to take my breakfast at a nearby diner.

Traffic was light, and all of the vehicles well behaved. I walked slowly, listening and looking. It was a pleasant morning, promising a beautiful day. I hoped to settle things quickly, so I could enjoy it at my leisure.

I reached the diner unmolested. I took a seat beside the window. Just as the waiter came to take my order I saw a familiar figure swinging along the street - a former classmate and later fellow employee Lucas Raynard: six feet tall, red-haired, handsome in spite, or perhaps because, of an artistically broken nose, with the voice and manner of the salesman he was.

I knocked on the window and he saw me, waved, turned and entered.

«Merle, I was right,» he said, coming up to the table, clasping my shoulder briefly, seating himself and taking the menu out of my hands. «Missed you at your place and guessed you might be here.»

He lowered his eyes and began reading the menu.

«Why?» I asked.

«If' you need more time to consider, I'll come back,» the waiter said.

«No,» Luke answered and read off an enormous order.

I added my own.

Then: «Because you're a creature of habit.»

«Habit?» I replied. «I hardly eat here anymore.»

«I know,» he answered, «but you usually did when the pressure was on. Like, right before exams - or if something was bothering you.»

«Hm,» I said: There did seem to be something to that, though I had never before realized it. I spun the ashtray with its imprint of a unicorn's head, a smaller version of the stained-glass one that stood as part of a partition beside the doorway: «I can't say why,» I finally stated. «Besides, what makes you think something's bothering me?»

«I remembered that paranoid thing you have about April 30, because of a couple of accidents.»

«More than a couple. I never told you about all of them.»

«So you still believe it?»

«Yes.»

He shrugged. The waiter came by and filled our coffee cups.

«Okay,» he finally agreed. «Have you had it yet today?»

«No.»

«Too bad. I hope it doesn't pall your thinking.»

I took a sip of coffee.

«No problem,» I told him.

«Good.» He sighed and stretched. «Listen, I just got back to town yesterday…»

«Have a good trip?»

«Set a new sales record.»

«Great.»

«Anyhow… I just learned when I checked in that you'd left.»

«Yeah. I quit about a month ago.»

«Miller's been trying to reach you. But with your phone disconnected he couldn't call. He even stopped by a couple of times, but you were out.»

«Too bad.»

«He wants you back.»

«I'm finished there.»

«Wait'll you hear the proposition, huh? Brady gets kicked upstairs and you're the new head of Design-for a twenty percent pay hike: That's what he told me to tell you.»

I chuckled softly.

«Actually… it doesn't sound bad at all. But, like I said, I'm finished.»

«Oh.» His eyes glistened as he gave me a sly smile. «You do have something lined up someplace else. He was wondering. Okay, if that's the case he told me to tell you to bring him whatever the other guys offer. He'll try like hell to top it.»

I shook my head.

«I guess I' m not getting through,» I said: «I' m finished. Period. I don't want to go back. I'm not going to work for anyone else either. I' m done with this sort of thing. I'm tired of computers.»

«But you're really good. Say, you going to teach?»

«Nope.»

«Well, hell! You've got to do something. Did you come into some money?»

«No. I believe I'll do some traveling. I've been in one place too long.»

He raised his coffee cup and drained it. Then he leaned back, clasped his hands across his stomach, and lowered his eyelids slightly: He was silent for a time.

Finally: «You said you were finished. Did you just mean the job and your life here, or something else as well?»

«I don't follow you.»

«You had a way of disappearing - back in college, too. You'd be gone for a while and then just as suddenly turn up again. You always were vague about it, too. Seemed like you were leading some sort of double life. That have anything to do with it?»

«I don't know what you mean.» He smiled.

«Sure you do,» he said. When I did not reply; he added: «Well, good luck with it -whatever.»

Always moving, seldom at rest, he fidgeted with a key ring while we had a second cup of coffee, bouncing and jangling keys and a bhp shone pendant. Our breakfasts finally arrived and we ate is silence for a while.

Then he asked, «You still have the Starburst?»

«No. Sold her last fall,» I told him. «I'd been so busy I just didn't have time to sail. Hated to see her idle.»

He nodded.

«That's too bad,» he said. «We had a lot of fun with her, back in school. Later, too. I'd have liked to take her out once more, for old times' sake.»

«Yes.»

«Say, you haven't seen Julia recently.»

«No, not since we broke up. I think she's still going with some guy named Rick. Have you?»

«Yeah. I stopped by last night.»

«Why?»

He shrugged.

«She was one of the gang - and we've all been drifting apart.

«How was she?»

«Still looking good. She asked about you. Gave me this…to give to you, too.»

He withdrew a sealed envelope from inside his jacket and passed it to me. It bore my name, in her handwriting. I tore it open and read:

Merle, I. was wrong: I know who you are and there is danger. I have to see you. I have something you will nod. It is very important. Please call or come by as soon as you can.

Love, Julia

«Thanks,» I said, opening my pack and filing it.

It was puzzling as well as unsettling. In the extreme. I'd have to decide what to do about it later. I still liked her more than I cared to think about, but I wasn't sure I wanted to see her again. But what did she mean about knowing who I am?

I pushed her out of my mind, again.

I watched the traffic for a time and drank coffee and thought about how I'd first met Luke, in our freshman year, in the Fencing Club. He was unbelievably good.

«Still fence?» I asked him.

«Sometimes. How about you?»

«Occasionally.»

«We never really did find out who was better.»

«No time now,» I said.

He chuckled and poked his knife at me a few times. «I guess not. When are you leaving?»

«Probably tomorrow. I' m just cleaning up a few odds and ends. When that's done I'll go.»

«Where are you heading?»

«Here and there. Haven't decided on everything yet.»

«You're crazy.»

«Um-hm. Wanderjahr is what they used to call it. I missed out on mine and I want it now.»

«Actually it does sound pretty nice. Maybe I ought to try it myself sometime.»

«Maybe so. I thought you took your in installments, though.»

«What do you mean?»

«I wasn't the only one who used to take off a lot.»

«Oh, that.» He dismissed it with the wave, of a hand. «that was business, not pleasure. Had to do some deals to pay the bills. You going to see your folks?»

Strange question. Neither of us had ever spoken of our parents before, except in the most general terms.

«I don't think so,» I said. «How're yours?»

He caught my gaze and held it, his chronic smile widening slightly.

«Hard to say,» he replied. «We're kind of out of touch.»

I smiled, too.

«I know the feeling.»

We finished our food, had a final coffee…

«So you won't be talking to Miller?» he asked.

«No.»

He shrugged again. The check came by and he picked it up:

«This one's on me,» he said. «After all, I'm working.»

«Thanks. Maybe I can get back at you for dinner. Where're you staying?»

«Wait.» He reached into his shirt pocket, took out a matchbook, tossed it to me. «There. New Line Motel,» he said.

«Say I come by about six?»

«Okay.»

He settled up and we parted on the street.

«See you,» he said.

«Yeah.» Bye-bye, Luke Raynard. Strange man. We'd known each other for almost eight years. Had some good times. Competed in a number of sports. Used to jog together almost every day We'd both been on the track team. Dated the same girls sometimes. I wondered about him again - strong, smart, and as private a person as myself. There was a bond between us, one that I didn't fully understand.

I walked back to my apartment's parking lot and checked under my car's hood and frame before I tossed my pack inside and started the engine. I drove slowly, looking at things that had been fresh and new eight years before, saying good-bye to them now. During the past week I had said it to all of the people who had mattered to me. Except for Julia.

It was one of those things I felt like putting off, but there was no time. It was either now or not at all, and my curiosity had been piqued. I pulled into a shopping mall's lot and located a pay phone, but there was no answer when I rang her number. I supposed she could be working full-time on a dayshift again, but she could also be taking a shower or be out shopping. I decided to drive on over to her place and see. It wasn't that far. And whatever it was that she had for me, picking it up would be a good excuse for seeing her this one last time.

I cruised the neighborhood for several minutes, before I located a parking space. I locked the car, walked back to the corner, and turned right. The day had grown slightly warmer. Somewhere, dogs were barking.

I strolled on up the block to that huge Victorian house that had been converted into apartments. I couldn't see her windows from the front. She was on the top floor, to the rear. I tried to suppress memories as I passed on up the front walk, but it was no good. Thoughts of our times together came rushing back along with a gang of old feelings. I halted… It was silly coming here. Why bother, for something I hadn't even missed. Still…

Hell. I wanted to see her one more time. I wasn't going to back out now. I mounted the steps and crossed the porch. The door was open a crack so I walked in.

Same foyer. Same tired-looking potted violet, dust on its leaves, on the chest before the gilt-framed mirror - the mirror that had reflected our embrace, slightly warped, many times. My face rippled as I went by.

I climbed the green-carpeted stairs. A dog began howling somewhere out back.

The first landing was unchanged. I walked the short hallway, past the drab etchings and the old end table, turned 'and mounted the second staircase. Halfway up I heard a scratching noise from overhead and a sound like a bottle or a vase rolling on a hardwood floor. Then silence again, save for a few gusts of wind about the eaves. A faint apprehension stirred within me and I quickened my pace. I halted at the head of the stairway and nothing looked to be out of order, but with my next inhalation a peculiar odor came to me. I couldn't place it - sweat, must, damp, dirt perhaps - certainly something organic.

I moved then to Julia's door and waited for several moments. The odor seemed stronger there, but I heard no new sounds.

I rapped softly on the dark wood. For a moment it seemed that I heard someone stirring within, but only for a moment. I knocked again.

«Julia?» I called out. «It's me Merle.»

Nothing.

I knocked louder.

Something fell with a crash. I tried the doorknob. Locked.

I twisted and jerked and tore the doorknob, the lock plate, and the entire locking mechanism free. I moved immidiately to my left then, past the hinged edge of the door and the frame. I extended my left hand and applied gentle pressure to the upper panel with my fingertips.

I moved the door a few inches inward and paused. No new sounds ensued, and nothing but a slice of wall and floor came into view, with narrow glimpses of a watercolor, the red sofa, the green rug. I eased the door open a little farther. More of the same. And the odor was even stronger.

I took a half step to my right and applied a steady pressure.

Nothingnothingnothing…

I snatched my hand away when she came into view. Lying there. Across the room. Bloody…

There was blood on tie floor, the rug, a bloody disarray near the corner off to my left. Upset furniture, torn cushions…

I suppressed an impulse to rush forward.

I took one slow step and then another, all of my senses alert. I crossed the threshold. There was nothing else/no one else in the room. Frakir tightened about my wrist. I should have said something then, but my mind was elsewhere.

I approached and knelt at her side. I felt sick. From the doorway I had not been able to see that half of her face and her right arm were missing. She was not breathing and her carotid was silent. She had on a torn and bloodied peachcolored robe; there was a blue pendant about her neck.

The blood that had spilled beyond the rug onto the hardwood floor was smeared and tracked. They were not human footprints, however, but large, elongated, three-toed things, well padded, clawed.

A draft of which I had been only half-consciously aware - coming from the opened bedroom door at my back - was suddenly diminished, as the odor intensified. There came another quick pulsing at my wrist. There was no sound, though. It was absolutely silent, but I knew that it was there.

I spun up out of my kneeling position into a crouch, turning

I saw a large mouthful of big teeth, bloody lips curled back around them. They lined the muzzle belonging to several hundred pounds of doglike creature covered with coarse, moldy-looking yellow fur. Its ears were like clump of fungi, its yellow-orange eyes wide and feral.

As I had no doubt whatever concerning its intentions I hurled the doorknob, which I had been clutching half consciously for the past minute. It glanced off the bony ridge above its left eye without noticeable effect. Still soundlessy the thing sprang at me.

Not even time for a word to Frakir…

People who work in slaughterhouses know that there is a spot on an animal's forehead to be found by drawing an imaginary line from the right ear to the left eye and another from the left ear to the right eye. They aim the killing blow, an inch or two above the junction of this X. My uncle taught me that. He didn't work in a slaughterhouse, though. Ire just knew how to kill things.

So I spun forward and to the side as it sprang, and I struck a hammer blow at the death spot: It moved even faster than I'd anticipated, however, and when my fist struck it, it was already rushing by Its neck muscles helped it to absorb the force of my blow.

This drew the first sound from it, though - a yelp. It shook its head and turned with great speed then, and it was at me again. Now a low, rumbling growl came up from its chest and its leap was high. I knew that I was not going to be able to sidestep this one.

My uncle had also taught me how to grab a dog by the flesh on the sides of its neck and under the jaws. You need a good grip if it's a big one, and you've got to get it just right. I had no real choice at the moment. If I tried a kick and missed it would probably take off my foot.

My hands shot forward and snaked upward and I braced myself when we met. I was sure it outweighed me and I had to meet its momentum as well.

I'd had visions of losing fingers or a hand, but I got in under the jaw, caught hold and squeezed. I kept my arms extended and leaned into the impact. I was shaken by the force of its lunge, but I was able to maintain my grip and absorb it.

As I listened to the growls and regarded the slavering muzzle a foot or so away from my face I realized that I hadn't thought much beyond this point. With a dog, you might be able to bash its head against anything hard and handy; its carotids are too deeply buried to rely on direct pressure to take it out. But this thing was strong and my grip was already beginning to slip against its frantic twisting. As I held its jaws away from me and kept pushing it upward, I also realized that it was taller than I was when extended along the vertical. I could try for a kick at its soft underside, but I would probably go off balance as well as lose my grip, and then my groin would be exposed to its teeth.

But it twisted free of my left hand, and I had no choice but to use my right or lose it. So I pushed as hard as I could and retreated again. I had been looking for a weapon, any weapon, but there was nothing handy that would serve.

It lunged again, coming for my throat, coming too fast and high for me to manage a kick to its head. I couldn't get out of its way either.

Its forelegs were level with my midriff, and I hoped that my uncle had been right about this one too, as I seized them and twisted backward and inward with all of my strength, dropping to one knee to avoid those jaws, chin lowered to protect my throat, my head drawn back. Bones popped and crunched as I twisted and its head lowered almost immediately to attack my wrists. But by then I was already rising, thrusting forward, springing up.

It went over backward, twisted, and almost caught itself. When its paws struck the floor, however, it made a sound halfway between a whimper and a snarl and collapsed forward.

I was about to try for another blow to the skull when it recovered its footing, moving faster than I'd thought it could. It raised its right foreleg immediately upon standing and balanced itself on three legs, still growling, eyes fixed on my own, saliva dampening its lower jaw. I moved slightly to my left, certain that it was about to rush me yet again, angling my bay, positioning myself in a way that no one had taught me, because I do occasionally have original thoughts.

It was a little slower when it came for me this time. Maybe I could have gone for the skull and gotten it. I don't know because I didn't try. I seized it once more by the neck, and this time it was familiar territory. It would not pull away as it had before in the few moments I needed. Without breaking its momentum I turned and dropped low and thrust and pulled, adding some guidance to its trajectory:

It turned in midair, its back striking the window. With a shattering, splintering sound it passed through, taking most of the frame, the curtain and the curtain rod along with it.

I heard it hit three stories below. When I rose and looked out I saw it twitch a few times and grow still, there on the concrete patio where Julia and I had often had a midnight beer.

I returned to Julia's side and held her hand. I began to realize my anger. Someone had to be behind this. Could it be S again? Was this my April 30 present for this year? I'd a feeling that it was and I wanted to do unto S as I had just done unto the creature that had performed the act. There had to be a reason. There ought to be a clue.

I rose, went to the bedroom, fetched a blanket, and covered Julia with it. Mechanically, I wiped my fingerprints from the fallen doorknob as I began my search of the apartment.

I found them on the mantelpiece between the clock and a stack of paperbacks dealing with the occult. The moment I touched them and felt their coldness I realized that this was even more serious than I had thought. They had to be the thing of mine she'd had that I would be needing - only they were not really mine, though as I riffled through I recognized them on one level and was puzzled by them on another. They were cards, Trumps, like yet unlike any I had ever seen before.

It was not a complete deck. Just a few cards, actually, and strange. I slipped them into my side pocket quickly when I heard the siren. Time for solitaire later.

I tore down the stairs and out the back door, encountering no one. Fido still lay where he had fallen and all the neighborhood dogs were discussing it. I vaulted fences and trampled flowerbeds, cutting through backyards on my way over to the side street where I was parked.

Minutes later I was miles away, trying to scrub the bloody pawprints from my memory.,

Chapter 2

I drove away from the bay until I came to a quiet, well-treed area. I stopped the car and got out and walked.

After a long while I located a small, deserted park. I seated myself on one of the benches, took out the Trumps and studied them. A few seemed half familiar and the rest were totally puzzling. I stared too long at one end seemed to hear a siren song. I put them down. I did not recognize the style. This was extremely awkward.

I was reminded of the story of a world-famous toxicologist who inadvertently ingested a poison for which there was no antidote. The question foremost in his mind was, had he taken a lethal dose? He looked it up in a classic textbook that he himself had written years before. According to his own book he had had it. He checked another, written by an equally eminent professional. According to that one he had taken only about half the amount necessary to do in someone of his body mass. So he sat down and waited, hoping he'd been wrong.

I felt that way because I am an expert on these things. I thought that I knew the work of everyone who might be capable of producing such items. I picked up one of the cards, which held a peculiar, almost familiar fascination for me - depicting a small grassy point jutting out into a quiet lake, a sliver of something bright, glistening, unidentifiable, off to the right. I exhaled heavily upon it, fogging it for an instant, and struck it with my fingernail. It rang like a glass bell and flickered to life. Shadows swam and pulsed as the scene inched into evening. I passed my hand over it and it grew still once again - back to lake, grasses, daytime.

Very distant. Time's stream flowed faster there in relationship to my present situation. Interesting.

I groped for an old pipe with which I sometimes indulge myself, filled it, lit it, puffed it, and mused. The cards were functional all right, not some clever imitations, and though I did not understand their purpose, that was not my main concern at the moment.

Today was April 30, and I had faced death once again. I had yet to confront the person who had been playing with my life. S had again employed a proxy menace. And that was no ordinary dog I had destroyed. And the cards… where had Julia gotten them and why had she wanted me to have them? The cards and the dog indicated a power beyond that of an ordinary person. All along I had thought I'd been the subject of the unwelcome attention of some psycho, whom I could deal with at my leisure. But this morning's events put an entirely different complexion on the case. It meant that I had one hell of an enemy somewhere.

I shuddered. I wanted to talk to Luke again, get him to reconstruct their conversation of the previous evening, see whether Julia had said anything that might provide me with a clue. I'd like to go back and search her apartment more carefully, too. But that was out of the question. The cops had pulled up in front of the place as I was driving away. There'd be no getting back in for some time.

Rick. There was Rick Kinsky, the guy she'd begun seeing after we'd broken up. I knew him on sight - a thin, mustached, cerebral sort, thick glasses and all. He managed a bookstore I'd visited once or twice. I didn't know him beyond that; though. Perhaps he could tell me something about the cards and how Julia might have gotten into whatever situation it was that had cost her her life.

I brooded a little longer, then put the cards away. I wasn't about to fool with them any further. Not yet. First, I wanted as much information as I could get.

I headed back for the car. As I walked I reflected that this April 30 wasn't over. Suppose S didn't really consider this morning's encounter as aimed directly at me? In that case there was plenty of time for another attempt. I also had a feeling that if I began getting close S would forget about dates and go for my throat whenever there was an opening. I resolved not to let my guard down at all henceforth, to live as in a state of siege until this matter was settled. And all of my energies were now going to be dire toward settling it. My well-being seemed to require the destruction of my enemy, very soon.

Should I seek counsel? I wonder. And if so, from whom? There was an awful lot I still didn't know about my heritage…

No. Not yet, I decided. I had to make every effort to handle things myself. Besides the fact that I wanted to, I needed the practice. It's necessary to be able to deal with nasty matters where I come from.

I drove, looking for a pay phone and trying not to think of Julia as I had last seen her. A few clouds blew in from the west. My watch ticked on my wrist, next to unseen Frakir. The news on the radio was international and cheerless.

I stopped in a drugstore and used a phone there to try to reach Luke at his motel. He wasn't in. So I had a club sandwich and a milkshake in the dining area and tried again afterward. Still out.

Okay. Catch him later. I headed into town. The Browserie, as I recalled, was the name of the bookstore where Rick worked.

I drove by and saw that the place was open. I parked a couple of blocks up the street and walked back. I had been alert all of the way across town, but could not detect any sign that I was being followed.

A cool breeze touched me as I walked, hinting of rain. I saw Rick through the store's window, seated at his high counter reading a book. There was no one else in sight in the place.

A small bell jangled above the door as I entered, and he looked up. He straightened and his eyes widened as I approached.

«Hi,» I said, pausing then for a moment. «Rick, I don't know whether you remember me.»

«You're Merle Corey,» he stated softly.

«Right.» I leaned on the counter and he drew back. «I wondered whether you might be able to help me with a little information.»

«What kind of information?»

«It's about Julia,» I said.

«Look,» he answered, «I never went near her until after you two had broken up.»

«Huh? No, no, you don't understand. I don't care about that. It's more recent information that I need. She'd been trying to get in touch with me this past week and -»

He shook his head:

«I haven't heard from her for a couple of months.»

«Oh?»

«Yeah, we stopped seeing each other. Different interests, you know?»

«Was she okay when you - stopped seeing each other?»

«I guess so.»

I stared straight into his eyes and he winced. I didn't like that «I guess so.» I could see that he was a little afraid of me so I decided to push it.

«What do you mean ‘different interests'?» I asked.

«Well, she got a little weird, you know?» he said.

«I don't know. Tell me.»

He licked his lips and looked away «I don't want any trouble,» he stated.

«I'd rather not indulge either. What was the matter?»

«Well,» he said, «she was scared.»

«Scared? Of what?»

«Uh - of you.»

«Me? That's ridiculous. I never did anything to frighten her. What did she say?»

«She never said it in so many words, but I could tell, whenever your name came up. Then she developed all these funny interests.»

«You've lost me,» I said. «Completely. She got weird? She got funny interests? What kind? What was going on? I really don't understand, and I'd like to.»

He got to his feet and headed for the rear of the store, glancing at me as if I should follow him. I did.

He slowed when he reached a section full of books on natural healing and organic farming and martial arts and herbal remedies and having babies at home, but he went on past it into the hardcore occult section.

«Here,» he said, halting. «She borrowed a few of these, brought them back, borrowed a few more.»

I shrugged.

«That's all? That's hardly weird.»

«But she really got into it.»

«So do a lot of people.»

«Let me finish,» he went on. «She started with theosophy, even attended meetings of a local group. She got turned off on it fairly quick, but by then she'd met some people with different connections. Pretty soon she was hanging around with Sufis, Gurdjieffians, even a shaman.»

«Interesting,» I said. «No yoga?»

«No yoga. When I asked her that same thing she said that it was power she was after, not samadhi. Anyhow, she just kept fording stranger and stranger acquaintances. The atmosphere got too rarefied for me, so I said good-bye.»

«I wonder why?» I mused.

«Here,» he said, «take a look at this one.»

He tossed me a black book and stepped back. I caught it. It was a copy of the Bible. I opened it to the publishing credits page.

«Something special about this edition?» I asked.

He sighed.

«No. I'm sorry.»

He took it back and replaced it on the shelf.

«Just a minute,» he said.

He returned to the counter and took a cardboard sign from a shelf beneath it. It read JUST STEPPED OUT: WE'LL REOPEN AT and there was a clock face beneath it with movable hands. He set them to indicate a time a half hour hence and went and hung the sign in the door's window. Then he shot the bolt and gestured for me to follow him to a room in the rear.

The back office contained a desk, a couple of chairs, cartons of books. He seated himself behind the desk and nodded toward the nearest chair. I took it. He switched on a telephone answering machine then, removed a stack of forms and correspondence from the blotter, opened a drawer and took out a bottle of Chianti.

«Care for a glass?» he asked.

«Sure, thanks.»

He rose and stepped through the opened door of a small lavatory. He took a pair of glasses from a shelf and rinsed them. He brought them back, set them down, filled both, and. pushed one in my direction. They were from the Sheraton.

«Sorry I tossed the Bible at you,» he said, raising his glass and taking a sip.

«You looked as if you expected one to go up in a puff of smoke.»

He nodded.

«I am really convinced that the reason she wants power has something to do with you. Are you into some form of occultism?»

«No.»

«She talked sometimes as if you might even be a supernatural creature yourself.»

I laughed.

He did, too, after a moment.

«I don't know,» he said then: «'There're lots of strange things in the world. 'they can't all be right, but…»

I shrugged.

«Who knows? So you think she was looking for some system that would give her power to defend herself against me?»

«That was the impression I got.»

I took a drink of the wine.

«That doesn't make sense,» I told him.

But even as I said it I knew that it was probably true. And if I had driven her into the path of whatever had destroyed her, then I was partly responsible for her death. I suddenly. felt the burden along with the pain.

«Finish the story,» I said.

«That's pretty much it,» he answered. «I got tired of people who wanted to discuss cosmic crap all the time and I split.»

«And that's all? Did she find the right system, the right guru? What happened?»

He took a big drink and stared at me.

«I really liked her,» he said.

«I'm sure.»

«The Tarot, Caballa, Golden Dawn, Crowley, Fortunethat's where she went next.»

«Did she stay?»

«I don't know for sure. But I think so. I only heard this after a while.»

«Ritual magic, then?»

«Probably.»

«Who does it?»

«Lots of people.»

«I mean who did she find? Did you hear that?»

«I think it was Victor Melman.»

He looked at me expectantly. I shook my head. «I'm sorry. I don't know the name.»

«Strange man,» he mused, taking a sip and leaning back in his chair, clasping his hands behind his neck and bringing his elbows forward. He stared off into the lavatory. «II've heard it said - by a number of people, some of them fairly reliable - that he really has something going for him, that he has a hold on a piece of something, that he's known a kind of enlightenment, has been initiated, has a sort of power and is sometimes a great teacher. But he's got these ego problems, too, that seem to go along with that sort of thing. And there's a touch of the seamy side there. I've even heard it said that that's not his real name, that he's got a record, and there's more of Manson to him than Magus. I don't know. He's nominally a painter - actually a pretty good one. His stuff does sell.»

«You've met him?».

A pause, then, «Yes.»

«What were your own impressions?»

«I don't know. Well… I'm prejudiced. I can't really say.»

I swirled the wine in my glass. «How come?»

«Oh, I wanted to study with him once. He turned me down.»

«So you were into this, too. I thought -»

«I'm not into anything,» he snapped. «I tried everything at some time or other, I mean. Everybody goes through phases. I wanted to develop, expand; advance. Who doesn't? But I never found it.» He unbent and took another gulp of wine. «Sometimes I felt that I was close, that there was some power, some vision that I could almost touch or see. Almost. Then it was gone. It's all a lot of crap. You just delude yourself. Sometimes I even thought I had it. Then a few days would go by and I realized that I was lying to myself again.»

«All of this was before you met Julia?» He nodded.

«Right. That might be what held us together for a while. I still like to talk about all this bullshit, even if I don't believe it anymore. Then she got too serious about it, and I didn't feel like going that route again.»

«I see.»

He drained his glass and refilled it.

«There's nothing to any of it,» he said. «'There are an infinite number of ways of lying to yourself, of rationalizing things into something they are not. I guess that I wanted magic, and there is no real magic in the world.»

«That why you threw the Bible at me?» He snorted.

«It could as easily have been the Koran or the Vedas, I suppose. It would have been neat to see you vanish in a flash of fire. But no go.»

I smiled.

«How can I find Melman?»

«I've got it here somewhere,» he said, lowering his eyes and opening a drawer. «Here.»

He withdrew a small notebook and flipped through it. He copied out an address on an index card and handed it to me. He took another drink of wine.

«It's his studio, but he lives there, too,» he added. I nodded and set down my glass.

«I appreciate everything you told me.»

He raised the bottle.

«Have another drink?»

«No, thanks.»

He shrugged and topped off his own.

I rose.

«You know, it's really sad,» he said.

«What?»

«That there's no magic, that there never was, there probably never will be.»

«That's the breaks,» I said.

«The world would be a lot more interesting place.»

«Yeah.»

I turned to go.

«Do me a favor,» he said.

«What?»

«On the way out, set that sign for three o'clock and let the bolt in the door snap shut again.»

«Sure.» I left him there and did those things. The sky had grown a lot darker, the wind a bit more chill. I tried again to reach Luke, from a phone on the comer, but he was still out.

We were happy. It had been a terrific day. The weather was perfect, and everything we did had worked out right. We went to a fan party that evening and afterward had a late dinner at a really good little place we'd stumbled upon by accident. We lingered over drinks, hating for the day to end. We decided then to prolong a winning streak, and we drove to an otherwise deserted beach where we sat around and splashed around and watched the moon and felt the breezes. For a long while. I did something then that I had sort of promised myself I would not. Hadn't Faust thought a beautiful moment worth a soul?

«Come on,» I said, aiming my beer can at a trash bin and catching hold of her hand. «Let's take a walk.»

«Where to?» she asked, as I drew her to her feet.

«Fairy land,» I replied. «The fabled realms of yore. Eden. Come on.»

Laughing, she let me lead her along the beach, toward a place where it narrowed, squeezing by high embankments. The moon was generous and yellow, the sea sang my favorite song.

We strolled hand in hand past the bluffs, where a quick turning of the way took us out of sight of our stretch of sand: I looked for the cave that should be occurring soon, high and narrow…

«A cave,» I announced moments later. «Let's go in.»

«It'll be dark.»

«Good,» I said, and we entered.

The moonlight followed us for about six paces. By then, though, I had spotted the turnoff to the left.

«This way,» I stated.

«It is dark!»

«Sure. Just keep hold of me a little longer. It'll be okay.» Fifteen or twenty steps and there was a faint illumination to the right. I led her along that turning and the way bright-ened as we advanced.

«We may get lost,» she said softly.

«I don't get lost,» I answered her.

It continued to brighten. The way turned once more, and we proceeded along that last passage to emerge at the foot of a mountain in sight of a low forest, the sun standing at midmorning height above its trees.

She froze, blue eyes wide. «It's daytime!» she said.

«Tempus fugit,» I replied. «Come on.»

We walked through the woods for a time, listening to the birds and the breezes, dark-haired Julia and I, and I led her after a while through a canyon of colored rocks and grasses, beside a stream that flowed into a river.

We followed the river until we came, abruptly, to a precipice from whence it plunged a mighty distance, casting rainbows and fogs. Standing there, staring out across the great valley that lay below, we beheld a city of spires and cupolas, gilt and crystal, through morning and mist.

«Where are we?» she asked.

«Just around the corner,» I said. «Come.»

I led her to the left, then down a trail that took us back along the face of the cliff, passing finally behind the cataract. Shadows and diamond beads… a roaring to approach the power of silence…

We passed at last into a tunnel, damp at first but drying as it rose. We followed it to a gallery, open to our left and looking out upon night and stars, stars, stars… It was an enormous prospect, blazing with new constellations, their light sufficient to cast our shadows onto the wall behind us. She leaned over the low parapet, her skin some rare polished marble, and she looked downward.

«They're down there, too,» she said. «And to both sides! There is nothing below but more stars. And to the sides…»

«Yes. Pretty things, aren't they?»

We remained there for a long while, watching, before I could persuade her to come away and follow the tunnel farther… It bore us out again to behold a ruined classical amphitheater beneath a late afternoon sky. Ivy grew over broken benches and fractured pillars. Here and there lay a shattered statue, as if cast down by earthquake. Very picturesque. I'd thought she'd like it, and I was right. We took turns seating ourselves and speaking to each other. The acoustics were excellent.

We walked away then, hand in hand, down myriad ways beneath skies of many colors, coming at last in sight of a quiet lake with a sun entering evening upon its farther shore. There was a glittering mass of rock off to my right. We walked out upon a small point cushioned with mosses and ferns.

I put my arms around her and we stood there for a long time, and the wind in the trees was lute song counterpointed by invisible birds. Later still, I unbuttoned her blouse. «Right here?» she said.

«I like it here. Don't you?»

«It's beautiful. Okay. Wait a minute.»

So we lay down and love till the shadows covered us. After a time she slept, as I desired.

I set a spell upon her to keep her asleep, for I was beginning to have second thoughts over the wisdom of making this journey. Then I dressed both of us and picked her up to carry her back. I took a shortcut.

On the beach from which we' d started I put her down and stretched out beside her. Soon I slept also.

We did not awaken till after the sun was up, when the sounds of bathers roused us.

She sat up and stared at me.

«Last night,» she said, «could not have been a dream. But it couldn't have been real either. Could it?»

«I guess so,» I said. She furrowed her brow.

«What did you just agree to?» she asked.

«Breakfast,» I said. «Let's go get some. Come on.»

«Wait a minute.» She put a hand on my arm. «Something unusual happened. What was it?»

«Why destroy the magic by talking about it? Let's go eat.»

She questioned me a lot in the days that followed, but I was adamant in refusing to talk about it. Stupid, the whole thing was stupid. I should never have taken her on that walls. It contributed to that final argument that set us permanently apart.

And now, driving, as I thought about it, I realized something more than my stupidity. I realized that I had been in love with her, that I still loved her. Had I not taken her on that walk, or had I acknowledged her later accusation that I was a sorcerer, she, would not have taken the route that she took, seeking power of her own - probably for self protection. She would be alive.

I bit my lip and cried out. I cut around the braking car in front of me and crashed a light. If I had killed the thing I loved, I was certain that the opposite was not going to be true.

Chapter 3

Grief and anger shrink my world, and I resent this. They seem to paralyze my memory of happier times, of friends, places, things; options. Squeezed by the grip of intense, unsettling emotion, I grow smaller in my single-mindedness. I suppose it is partly because I have discarded a range of choices, impairing in some measure my freedom of will. I don't like this, but after a point I have small control over it. It makes me feel that I have surrendered to a kind of determinism, which imitates me even more. Then, vicious cycle, this feeds back into the emotion that drives me and intensifies it. The simple way of ending this situation is the headlong rush to remove its object. The difficult way is more philosophical, a drawing back, the reestablishment of control. As usual, the difficult way is preferable. A headlong rush may also result in a broken neck.

I parked in the first place that I saw, opened the window, lit my pipe. I vowed not to depart until I had grown calm. All of my life I have had a tendency to overreact to things. It seems to run in my family. But I did not want to be like the others. They made a lot of trouble for themselves that way. The full-scale, all-or-nothing reaction may be all right if you always win, but that way also lies high tragedy or at least opera if you happen to be up against something extraordinary. And I did have indications that this was the case. Therefore, I was a fool. I told myself this till I believed it.

Then I listened to my caliper self as it agreed that I was indeed a fool-for not having seen my own feelings when I could have done something about them, for having displayed a power and denied its consequences, for not having at least guessed at the strange nature of my enemy in all these years, for my present simplification of the coming encounter. It would not do to seize Victor Melman on sight and try to beat the truth out of him. I resolved to proceed carefully, covering myself at all times. Life is never simple, I told myself. Sit still and gather, regroup.

Slowly, I felt the tension go out of me: Slowly, too, my world grew again, and I saw within it the possibility that S really knew me, knew me well, and may even have arranged events so that I would dispense with thinking and surrender to the moment. No, I would not be like the others…

I sat there and thought for a long while before I started the engine again and drove on slowly.

It was a grimy brick building situated on a corner. It was four stories in height, with occasional spray-painted obscenities on the alley side and on the wall facing the narrower street. I discovered the graffiti, a few broken windows and the fire escape as I strolled slowly about the place, looking it over. By then a light rain was just beginning to fall. The lower two stories were occupied by the Brutus Storage Company, according to a sign beside the stairs in a small hallway I entered. The place smelled of urine, and there was an empty Jack Daniels bottle lying on the dusty windowsill to my right. Two mailboxes hung upon the flaking wall. One said «Brutus Storage,» the other bore the legend «V M.» Both were empty.

I mounted the stair, expecting it to creak. It did not. There were four knobless doors letting upon the second floor hallway, all of them closed. The outlines of what might be cartons were visible through several of the frosted panes in their upper sections. There were no sounds from within.

I surprised a black cat dozing on the next stairway. She arched her back, showed me her teeth, made a hissing noise, then turned and bounded up the stairs and out of sight.

The next landing also had four doors - three of them apparently nonfunctional, the fourth dark-stained and shellacked shiny. It bore a small brass plate that read «Melman.» I knocked.

There was no answer. I tried again several times, with the same result. No sounds from within either. It seemed likely that these were his living quarters and that the fourth floor, with the possibility of a skylight, held his studio. So I turned away and took the final flight.

I reached the top and saw that one of the four doors there was slightly ajar. I halted and listened for a moment. From beyond it came faint sounds of movement. I advanced and gave it a few knocks. I heard a sudden intake of breath from somewhere inside. I pushed on the door.

He stood about twenty feet away beneath a large skylight and he had turned to face me - a tall, broad-shouldered man with dark beard and eyes. He held a brush in his left hand and a palette in his right. He wore a paint-smeared apron over his Levi's and had on a plaid sport shirt. The easel at his back held the outlines of what could be a madonna and child. There were a great many other canvases about, all of them facing the walls or covered.

«Hello,» I said. «You are Victor Melman?»

He nodded, neither smiling nor frowning, placed his palette on a nearby table, his brush into a jar of solvent. He picked up a damp-looking cloth then and wiped his hands with it.

«And yourself?» he asked, tossing the cloth aside and facing me again.

«Merle Corey. You knew Julia Barnes.»

«I don't deny it,» he said. «Your use of the past tense would seem to indicate -»

«She's dead all right. I want to talk to you about it.»

«All right,» he said, untying his apron. «Let's go downstairs then. No place to sit up here.»

He hung the apron upon a nail near the door and stepped outside. I followed him. He turned back and locked the studio before proceeding down the stairs. His movements were smooth, almost graceful. I could hear the rain on the roof.

He used the same key to unlock the dark door on the third floor. He drew the door open and stood aside, gesturing for me to enter. I did, traversing a hallway that led past a kitchen, its counters covered with empty bottles, stacks of dishes, pizza cartons. Bursting bags of trash leaned against cupboards; the floor looked sticky here and there and the place smelled like a spice factory next door to a slaughterhouse.

The living room, which I came to next, was large, with a comfortable-looking pair of black sofas, facing each other across a battlefield of Oriental carpets and miscellaneous tables, each of which bore several overflowing ashtrays. There was a beautiful concert-sized piano in the far corner, before a wall covered with heavy red drapery. There were numerous low bookcases filled with occult materials, stacks of magazines beside them, atop them, and alongside a few easy chairs. What could be the corner of a pentacle protruded slightly from beneath the largest rug. The stale smells of incense and pot lingered in patches. To my right, there was an archway leading to another room, a closed door to my left. Paintings of a semireligious nature - which I took to be his work - were hung on several of the walls. There was a Chagall-like quality to them. Quite good.

«Have a seat.»

He gestured toward an easy chair and I took it. «Care for a beer?»

«Thank you, no.»

He seated himself on the nearer sofa, clasped his hands, and stared at me.

«What happened?» he asked.

I stared back at him.

«Julia Barnes got interested in occult systems,» I said. «She came to you to learn more about them. She died this morning under very unusual circumstances.»

The left corner of his mouth twitched slightly. He made no other movement.

«Yes, she was interested in such matters,» he said. «She came to me for instruction and I provided it.»

«I want to know why she died.» He continued to stare.

«Her time was up,» he said. «It happens to everybody, in the long run.»

«She was killed by an animal that should not exist here. Do you know anything about it?»

«The universe is a stranger place than most of us can imagine.»

«Do you know or don't you?»

«I know you,» he said, smiling for the first time. «She spoke of you, of course.»

«What does that mean?»

«It means,» he answered, «that I know you are more than a little aware of such matters yourself.»

«And so?»

«The Arts have a way of bringing the right people together at the proper moment when there is work in progress.»

«And that's what you think this is all about?»

«I know it.»

«How?»

«It was promised.»

«So you were expecting me?»

«Yes.»

«Interesting. Would you care to tell me more about it?»

«I'd rather show you.»

«You say that something was promised. How? By whom?»

«All of that will become clear shortly.»

«And Julia's death?»

«That, too, I'd say.»

«How do you propose rendering me this enlightenment?»

He smiled. «I just want you to take a look at something,» he said.

«All right. I'm willing. Show me.»

He nodded and rose.

«It's in here,» he explained, turning and heading toward the closed door.

I got to my feet and followed him across the room.

He reached into his shirtfront and drew up a chain. He lifted it over his head and I could see that it bore a key. He used it to unlock the door.

«Go in,» he said, pushing it open and stepping aside.

I entered. It was not a large room, and it was dark. He flipped a switch and a blue light of small wattage came on within a plain fixture overhead. I saw then that there was one window, directly across from me, and that all of its panes had been painted black. There were no furnishings, save for a few cushions scattered here and there across the floor. A portion of the wall to my right was covered with black drapery. The other walls were unadorned.

«I'm looking,» I said.

He chuckled.

«A moment, a moment,» he advised me. «Have you any idea of my major concern in the occult arts?»

«You're a cabalist,» I stated.

«Yes,» he admitted. «How could you tell?»

«People in Eastern disciplines tend to run a tight ship,» I stated. «But cabalists always seem to be slobs.»

He snorted.

«It is all a matter of what is really important to you,» he said then.

«Exactly.» He kicked a cushion into the middle of the floor. «Have a seat,» he said.

«I'll stand.» He shrugged.

«Okay,» he said, and he began muttering softly.

I waited. After a time, still speaking quietly, he moved to the black curtain. He opened it with a single quick movement and I stared.

A painting of the cabalistic Tree of Life was revealed, showing the ten sephira in some of their qlipphotic aspects. It was beautifully executed, and the sense of recognition that struck me as I regarded it was unsettling. It was no standard item from some head shop, but rather an original painting. It was not, however, in the style of any of the works hanging in the other room. Still, it was familiar to me.

As I studied it I had no doubt whatsoever that it had been painted by the same person who had done the Trumps I had found in Julia's apartment.

Melman continued his incantation as I regarded the painting.

«Is this your work?» I asked him.

He did not answer me. Instead, he advanced and pointed, indicating the third sephiroth, the one called Binah. I studied it. It seemed to represent a wizard before a dark altar, and

No! I couldn't believe it. It shouldn't

I felt a contact with that figure. It was not just symbolic. He was real, and he was summoning me. He loomed larger, grew three-dimensional. The room began to fade about me. I was almost there. It was a place of twilight, a small glade in a twisted wood. An almost bloody light illuminated the slab before me. The wizard, his face hidden by cowl and shadow, manipulated objects upon the stone, his hands moving too rapidly for me to follow. From somewhere, I still seems to hear the chanting, faintly.

Finally, he raised a single object in his right hand and held it steady. It was a black, obsidian dagger. He laid his left arm upon the altar and brushed it across the surface, sweeping everything else to the ground.

He looked at me for the first time. «Come here,» he said then.

I began to smile at the stupid simplicity of the request.

But then I felt my feet move without my willing them to do so, and I knew that a spell lay upon me in this dark shadow.

I thanked another uncle, who dwelled in the most distant place imaginable, as I began to speak in Thari, a spell of my own.

A piercing cry, as of some swooping night bird, rent the air… The wizard was not distracted, nor my feet freed, but I was able to raise my arms before me. I kept them at the proper level, and when they reached the forward edge of the altar I cooperated with the summoning spell, increasing the force of each automatonlike step that I took. I let my elbows bend.

The wizard was already swinging the blade toward my fingers, but it didn't matter. I put all of my weight behind it and heaved at the stone.

The altar toppled backward. The wizard scurried to avoid it, but it struck one - perhaps both - of his legs. Immediately, as he fell to the ground, I felt the spell depart from me. I could move properly again and my mind was clear.

He drew his knees up to his chest and began to roll even as I leaped over the wrecked altar and reached toward him. I moved to follow as he somersaults down a small slope and passed between two standing stones and into the darkened wood.

As soon as I reached the clearing's edge I saw eyes, hundreds of feral eyes blazing from the darkness at many levels. The incanting grew louder, seemed nearer, seemed to be coming from behind me.

I turned quickly.

The altar was still in wreckage. Another cowled figure stood behind it, much larger than the first. This one was doing the chanting, in a familiar masculine voice. Frakir pulsed upon my wrist. I felt a spell building about me, but this time I was not unprepared. The opposite of my walk, a summons, brought an icy wind that swept the spell away like so much smoke. My garments were lashed about me, changing shape and color. Purple, gray… light the trousers and dark the cloak, the shirtfront. Black my boots and wide belt, my gauntlets tucked behind, my silver Frakir woven into a bracelet about my left wrist, visible now and shining. I raised my left hand and shielded my eyes with my right, as I summoned a flash of light.

«Be silent,» I said then. «You offend me.» The chanting ceased.

The cowl was blown back from his head and I regarded Melman's frightened face.

«All right. You wanted me,» I stated, «and now you have me, heaven help you. You said that everything would become clear to me. It hasn't. Make it clear.»

I took a step forward.

«Talk!» I said. «It can be easy or it can be hard. But you will talk. The choice is yours.»

He threw back his head and bellowed: «Master!»

«Summon your master then, by any means,» I said. «I will wait. For he, too, must answer.»

He called out again, but there was no answer. He bolted then, but I was ready for this with a major summoning. The woods decayed and fell before he could reach them, and then they moved, were swept up in a mighty wind where there should be stillness. It circled the glade, gray and red, building an impenetrable wall to infinites above and below. We inhabited a circular island in the night, several hundred meters across, its edges slowly crumbling.

«He is not coming,» I said, «and you are not going. He cannot help you. No one will help you. This is a place of high magic and you profane it with your presence. Do you know what lies beyond the advancing winds? Chaos. I will give you to it now, unless you tell me about Julia and your master and why you dared to bring me here.»

He drew back from the Chaos and turned to face me. «Take me back to my apartment and I will tell you everything,» he said.

I shook my head.

«Kill me and you will never know.»

I shrugged.

«In that case, you will tell me in order to stop the pain. Then I will give you to the Chaos.»

I moved toward him.

«Wait!» He raised his hand. «Give me my life for what I am about to tell you.»

«No bargain. Talk.»

The winds swirled around us and our island shrank. Half heard, half intelligible voices babbled within the wind and fragments of forms swam there. Melman drew back from the crumbling edge of things.

«All right,» he said, speaking loudly. «Yes, Julia came to me, as I had been told she would, and I taught her some things - not the things I would have taught her even a year ago, but pieces of some new things I had only learned myself more recently. I had been told to teach her in this manner, also.»

«By whom? Name your master.» He grimaced.

«He was not so foolish as to give me his name,» he said, «that I might seek some control over him. Like yourself, he is not human, but a being from some other plane.»

«He gave you the painting of the Tree?» Melman nodded.

«Yes, and it actually transported me to each sephiroth. Magic worked in those places. I gained powers.»

«And the Trumps? He did those, too? He gave them to you to give to her?»

«I don't know anything about any Trumps,» he answered.

«These!» I cried, drawing them from beneath my cloak, spreading them like a conjurer's fan and advancing toward him. I thrust them at him and let him stare for a few moments, withdrawing them before he got the idea that they might represent a means of escape.

«I never saw them before,» he said.

The ground continued its steady erosion toward us. We withdrew to a point nearer the center.

«And you sent the creature that slew her?»

He shook his head vehemently.

«I did not. I knew that she was going to die, for he had told me that that was what would bring you to me. He told me, too, that it would be a beast from Netzach that would slay her - but I never saw it and I had no part in its summoning.»

«And why did he want you to meet me, to bring me here?»

He laughed wildly.

«Why?» he repeated. «To kill you, of course. He told me that if I could sacrifice you in this place I would gain your powers. He said that you are Merlin, son of Hell and Chaos, and that I would become the greatest mage of all could I slay you here.»

Our world was at best a hundred meters across now, and the rate of its shrinkage was accelerating.

«Was it true?» he asked. «Would I have gained had I succeeded?»

«Power is like money,» I said. «You can usually get it if you're competent and it's the only thing you want in life. Would you have gained by it, though? I don't think so.»

«I'm talking about the meaning of life. You·know that.»

I shook my head.

«Only a fool believes that life has but one meaning,» I said. «Enough of this! Describe your master.»

«I never saw him.»

«What?»

«I mean, I saw him but I don't know what he looks like. He always wore a hood and a black trench coat. Gloves, too. I don't even know his race.»

«How did you meet?»

«He appeared one day in my studio. I just turned around and he was standing there. He offered me power, said that he would teach me things in return for my service.»

«How did you know he could deliver?»

«He took me on a journey through places not of this world.»

«I see.»

Our island of existence was now about the size of a large living room. The voices of the wind were mocking, then compassionate, frightened, sad and angry, too. Our wraparound vision shifted constantly. The ground trembled without letup. The light was still baleful. A part of me wanted to kill Melman right then, but if he had not really been the one who had hurt Julia…

«Did your master tell you why he wanted me dead?» I asked him.

He licked his lips and glanced back at the advancing Chaos.

«He said that you were his enemy,» he explained, «but he never told me why. And he said that it was going to happen today, that he wanted it to happen today.»

«Why today?»

He smiled briefly.

«I suppose because it's Walpurgisnacht,» he replied, «though he never actually said that.»

«That's all?» I said. «He never mentioned where he was from?»

«He once referred to something called the Keep of the Four Worlds as if it were important to him.»

«And you never felt that he was simply using you?»

He smiled.

«Of course he was using me,» he replied. «We all use somebody. That is the way of the world. But he paid for this use with knowledge and power. And I think his promise may yet be fulfilled.»

He seemed to be glancing at something behind me. It was the oldest trick in the world, but I turned. There was no one there. Immediately, I spun back to face him.

He held the black dagger. It must have been up his sleeve. He lunged at me, thrusting, mouthing fresh incantations.

I stepped back and swirled my cloak at him. He disengaged himself, sidestepping and slashing, turned and advanced again. This time he came in low, trying to circle me, his lips still moving. I kicked at the knifehand, but he snapped it back. I caught up the left edge of my cloak then, wrapped it about my arm. When he struck again, I blocked the thrust and seized his biceps. Dropping lower as I drew him forward, I caught hold of his left thigh with my right hand, then straightened, raising him high in the air, and threw him.

As I turned my body, completing the throw, I realized what I had done. Too late. With my attention focused on my adversary I had not kept track of the rapid, grinding advance of the destroying winds. The edge of Chaos was much nearer than I had thought, and Melman had time for only the most abbreviated of curses before death took him where he would incant no more.

I cursed, too, because I was certain there was still more information that I could have gotten from him; and I shook my head, there at the center of my diminishing world. The day was not yet over and it was already my most memorable Walpurgisnacht ever.

Chapter 4

It was a long walk back. I changed my clothes on the way. My exit from the labyrinth took the form of a narrow alleyway between a pair of dirty brick buildings. It was still raining and the day had made its way into evening. I saw my parked car across the street at the edge of a pool of light cast by one of the unbroken streetlamps. I thought wistfully for a moment of my dry garments in the trunk, then I headed back toward the Brutus Storage sign.

A small light burned within the first-floor office, spilling a little illumination into the otherwise dark entranceway. I trudged on up the stairs, terminally moist and reasonably alert. The apartment door opened when I turned the knob and pushed. I switched on the light and entered, bolting the door behind me.

A quick prowl showed me that the place was deserted, and I changed out of my wet shirt into one from Melman's closet. His trousers were too big in the waist and a bit long for me, though. I transferred my Trumps to a breast pocket to keep them dry.

Step two. I began a systematic ransacking of the place.

After a few minutes, I came across his occult diary in a locked drawer in his bedside table. It was as messy as the rest of the place, with misspellings, crossed-out words, and a few beer and coffee stains. It seemed to contain a lot of derivative stuff mixed with the usual subjective businessdreams and meditations. I flipped farther along in it, looking for the place where he'd met his master. I came to it and skimmed along. It was lengthy; and seemed mostly comprised of enthusiastic ejaculations over the workings of the Tree he had been given. I decided to save it for later and was about to stow it when a final riffling of the pages brought a brief poem into view. Swinburnian, overly allusive and full of rapture, the lines that first caught my eye were, «-the infinite shadows of Amber, touched with her treacherous taint.» Too much alliteration, but it was the thought that counted. It revived my earlier feeling of vulnerability and caused me to ransack faster. I suddenly wanted only to get out, get far away and think.

The room held no further surprises. I departed it, gathered an armload of strewn newspapers, carried them to the john, tossed them into the bathtub, and set fire to them, opening the window on the way out. I visited the sanctum then, fetched out the Tree of Life painting, brought it back and added it to the blaze. I switched aff the bathroom light and closed the door as I left. I'm one hell of an art critic.

I headed for the stacks of miscellaneous papers on the bookshelves then and began a disappointing search among them. I was halfway through my second heap when the telephone rang.

The world seemed to freeze as my thoughts sprinted. Of course. Today was the day when I was supposed to find my way here and be killed. Chances seemed decent that if it were going to happen it would have happened by now. So this could well be S, calling to learn whether my obituary had been posted. I turned and located the phone, back on the shadowy wall near the bedroom. I had known immediately that I was going to answer it. Moving toward it, I was allowing two to three rings - twelve to eighteen seconds - in which to decide whether my response was to consist of a wisecrack, an insult and a threat, or whether I was going to try to fake it and see what I might learn. As satisfying as the former could be, spoilsport prudence dictated the latter course and also suggested I confine myself to low monosyllables and pretend to be injured and out of breath. I raised the receiver, ready to hear S's voice at last and find out whether I knew him.

«Yes?» I said.

«Well? Is it done?» came the response.

Damn pronoun. It was a woman. Wrong gender but a rightsounding question. One out of two isn't bad, though. I exhaled heavily, then: «Yeah.»

«What's the matter?»

«I'm hurt,» I croaked.

«Is it serious?»

«Think so. Got something - here - though. Better come - see.»

«What is it? Something of his?»

«Yeah. Can't talk. Getting dizzy. Come.»

I cradled the phone and smiled. I thought it very well played. I'd a feeling I'd taken her in completely.

I crossed the living room to the same chair I had occupied earlier, drew up one of the small tables bearing a large ashtray, seated myself, and reached for my pipe: Time to rest, cultivate patience, think a bit.

Moments later I felt a familiar, almost electrical tingling. I was on my feet in an instant, snatching up the ashtray, butts flying like bullets about me, cursing my stupidity yet again as I looked frantically about the room.

There! Before the red drapes, beside the piano. Taking form…

I waited for the full outline, then hurled the ashtray as hard as I could.

An instant later she was there - tall, russet-haired, darkeyed, holding what looked like a. 38 automatic.

The ashtray hit her in the stomach and she doubled forward with a gasp.

I was there before she could straighten.

I jerked the gun out of her hand and threw it across the room. Then I seized both her wrists, spun her around and seated her hard in the nearest chair. In her left hand she still held a Trump. I snatched it away. It was a representation of this apartment, and it was done in the same style as the Tree and the cards in my pocket.

«Who are you?» I snarled.

«Jasra,» she spat back, «dead man!»

She opened her mouth wide and her head fell forward. I felt the moist touch of her lips upon the back of my left forearm, which still held her own right wrist against the chair's arm. Seconds later I felt an excruciating pain there. It was not a bite, but rather felt as if a fiery nail had been driven into my flesh.

I let go her wrist and jerked my arm away. The movement was strangely slow, weakened. A cold, tingling sensation moved down into the hand and up along the arm. My hand dropped to my side and seemed to go away. She extricated herself easily from my grip, smiled, placed her fingertips lightly upon my chest and pushed.

I fell backward. I was ridiculously weak and I couldn't control my movements. I felt no pain when I struck the floor, and it was a real effort to turn my head to regard her as she rose to her feet.

«Enjoy it,» she stated. «After you awaken, the remainder of your brief existence will be painful.»

She passed out of my line of sight, and moments later I heard her raise the telephone receiver.

I was certain she was phoning S, and I believed what she had just said. At least, I would get to meet the mysterious artist…

Artist! I twitched the forgers of my right hand. They still functioned, albeit slowly. Straining every bit of will and anatomy that remained under my control, I tried then to raise the hand to my chest. The movement that followed was a jerky, slow-motion thing. At least I had fallen upon my left side, and my back masked this feeble activity from the woman who had done me in.

My hand was trembling and seemed to be slowing even more when it came to the breast pocket. For ages after, I seemed to pick at the edges of pieces of pasteboard. Finally, one came free and I was able to twitch it high enough to view it. By then I was very dizzy and my vision was beginning to blur. I wasn't certain I could manage the transfer. From across a vast distance I could hear Jasra's voice as she conversed with someone, but I was unable to distinguish the words.

I focused what remained of my attention upon the card. It was a sphinx, crouched upon a blue, rocky ledge. I reached for it. Nothing. My mind felt as if it were embedded in cotton. I possessed barely enough consciousness for one more attempt.

I felt a certain coldness and seemed to see the sphinx move slightly upon its stony shelf. I felt as if I were falling forward into a black wave that was rushing upward.

And that was all.

I was a long time coming around. My consciousness dribbled back, but my limbs were still leaden and my vision clouded. The lady's sting seemed to have delivered a neurotropic toxin. I tried flexing my fingers arid toes and could not be certain whether I'd succeeded. I tried to speed up and deepen my breathing. That worked, anyway.

After a time, I heard what seemed a roaring sound. It stepped itself down a little later, and I realized it was my own rushing blood in my ears. A while after that I felt my heartbeat, and my vision began to clear. Light and dark and shapelessness resolved into sand and rocks. I felt little areas of chill, all over. Then I began to shiver, and this passed and I realized that I could move. But I felt very weak, so I didn't. Not for a while.

I heard noises - rustlings, stirrings - coming from somewhere above and before me. I also became aware of a peculiar odor.

«I say, are you awake?» This from the same direction as the sounds of movement.

I decided that I was not entirely ready to qualify for that state, so I did not answer. I waited for more life to flow back into my limbs.

«I really wish you'd let me know whether you can hear me,» the voice came again. «I'd like to get on with it.»

My curiosity finally overcame my judgment and I raised my head.

«There! I knew it!»

On the blue-gray ledge above me was crouched a sphinx, also blue - lion body, large feathered wings folded tight against it, a genderless face looking down upon me. It licked its lips and revealed a formidable set of teeth.

«Get on with what?» I asked, raising myself slowly into a sitting position and drawing several deep breaths.

«The riddling,» it answered, «the thing I do best.»

«I'll take a rain check,» I said, waiting for the cramps in my arms and legs to pass.

«Sorry. I must insist.»

I rubbed my punctured forearm and glared at the creature. Most of the stories I recalled about sphinxes involved their devouring people who couldn't answer riddles. I shook my head.

«I won't play your game,» I said.

«In that case, you lose by forfeit,» it replied, shoulder muscles beginning to tighten.

«Hold on,» I said, raising my hand. «Give me a minute or two to recover and I'll probably feel differently:»

It settled back and said, «Okay. That, would make it more official. Take five. Let me know when you're ready.»

I climbed to my feet and began swinging my arms and stretching. While I was about it, I surveyed the area quickly. We occupied a sandy arroyo, punctuated here and there with orange, gray, and blue rocks. The stony wall whose ledge the sphinx occupied rose steeply before me to a height of perhaps twenty-five feet; another wall of the same height lay at about that distance to my rear. The wash rose steeply to my right, ran off in a more level fashion to my left. A few spiky green shrubs inhabited rifts and crevices. The hour seemed verging upon dusk. The sky was a weak yellow with no sun in sight. I heard a distant wind but did not feel it. The place was cool but not chill.

I spotted a rock the size of a small dumbbell on the ground nearby. Two ambling paces - as I continued swinging my arms and stretching - and it lay beside my right foot.

The sphinx cleared its throat. «Are you ready?» it asked.

«No,» I said. «But I'm sure that won't stop you.»

«You're right.»

I felt an uncontrollable desire to yawn and did so.

«You seem to lack something of the proper spirit,» it observed. «But here it is: I rise in flame from the earth. The wind assails me and waters lash me. Soon I will oversee all things.»

I waited. Perhaps a minute passed.

«Well?» the sphinx finally said.

«Well what?»

«Have you the answer?»

«To what?»

«The riddle, of course!»

«I was waiting. There was no question, only a series of statements. I can't answer a question if I don't know what it is.»

«It's a time-honored format. The interrogative is implied by the context. Obviously, the question is, `What am I?’»

«It could just as easily be, `Who is buried in Grant's tomb?' But okay. What is it? The phoenix, of coursenested upon the earth; rising in flames above it, passing through the air, the clouds, to a great height -»

«Wrong.»

It smiled and began to slit.

«Hold on,» I said. «It is not wrong. It fits. It may not be the answer you want, but it is an answer that meets the requirements.»

It shook its head.

«I am the final authority on these answers. I do the defining.»

«Then you cheat.»

«I do not!»

«I drink off half the contents of a flask. Does that make it half full or half empty?»

«Either. Both.»

«Exactly. Same thing. If more than one answer fits, you have to buy them all. It's like waves and particles.»

«I don't like that approach,» it stated. «It would open all sorts of doors to ambiguity. It could spoil the riddling business.»

«Not my fault,» I said, clenching and unclenching my hands.

«But you do raise an interesting point.»

I nodded vigorously.

«But there should only be one correct answer.»

I shrugged.

«We inhabit a less than ideal world,» I suggested.

«Hm.»

«We could just call it a tie,» I offered. «Nobody wins, nobody loses.»

«I find that esthetically displeasing.»

«It works okay in lots of other games.»

«Also, I've grown a bit hungry.»

«The truth surfaces.»

«But I am not unfair. I serve the truth, in my fashion. Your mention of a tie raises the possibility of a solution.»

«Good. I'm glad you see things-'

«That being a tie breaker. Ask me your riddle.»

«This is silly,» I said. «I don't have any riddles.»

«Then you'd better come up with one fast. Because it's the only way out of our deadlock - that, or I judge you the loser.»

I swung my arms and did a few deep kneebends. My body felt as if it were afire. It also felt stronger.

«Okay,» I said. «Okay. Just a second.»

What the hell…

«What's green and red and goes round and round and round?»

The sphinx blinked twice, then fiurrowed its brow. I used the time that followed for some more deep breathing and some running in place. The fires subsided, my head grew clearer, my pulse steadied…

«Well?» I said some minutes later.

«I'm thinking.»

«Take your time.»

I did a little shadowboxing. Did some isometrics, too. The sky had darkened a bit more and a few stars were now visible off to my right.

«Uh, I hate to rush you,» I said, «but -»

The sphinx snorted. «I'm still thinking.» «Maybe we should set a time limit.»

«It shouldn't be much longer.»

«Mind if I rest?»

«Go ahead.»

I stretched out on the sand and closed my eyes, muttering a guard word to Frakir before I slept.

I woke with a shiver, light in my eyes and a breeze upon my face. It took me several moments to realize that it was morning. The sky was brightening to my left, stars were fading to my right. I was thirsty. Hungry, too.

I rubbed my eyes. I got to my feet. I located my comb and ran it through my hair. I regarded the sphinx.

«… and goes round and round and round,» it muttered.

I cleared my throat. No reaction. The beast was staring past me. I wondered whether I might simply be able to slip off…

No. The gaze shifted to me.

«Good morning,» I said cheerfully. There was a brief gnashing of teeth.

«AlI right,» I said, «you've taken a lot longer than I did. If you haven't got it by now I don't care to play any longer.»

«I don't like your riddle,» it said at last.

«Sorry.»

«What is the answer?»

«You're giving up?»

«I must: What is the answer?» I raised a hand.

«Hold on,» I said. «These things should be done in proper order. I should have the preferred answer to yours before I tell you mine.»

It nodded.

«There is some justice in that. All right-the Keep of the Four Worlds.»

«What?»

«That is the answer. The Keep of the Four Worlds.»

I thought of Melman's words: «Why?» I asked.

«It lies at the crossroads of the worlds of the four elements, where it rises from the earth in flames, assailed by the winds and waters.»

«What about the business of overseeing all things?»

«It could refer to the view, or to its master's imperialistic designs. Or both.»

«Who is its master?»

«I don't know. That information is not essential to the answer.»

«Where'd you pick up this riddle, anyhow?»

«From a traveler, a few months back.»

«Why'd you choose this one, of all the riddles you must know, to ask me?»

«It stopped me, so it had to be good.»

«What became of the traveler?»

«He went on his way, uneaten. He'd answered my riddle.»

«He had a name?»

«He wouldn't say.»

«Describe him, please.»

«I can't. He was well muffled.»

«And he said nothing more about the Keep of the Four Worlds?»

«No.»

«Well,» I said. «I believe I'll follow his example and take a walk myself.»

I turned and faced the slope to my right.

«Waitl»

«What?» I asked.

«Your riddle,» it stated. «I've given you the answer to mine. You must now tell me what it is that is green and red and goes round and round and round.»

I glanced downward, scanned the ground. Oh, yes, there it was - my dumbbell - shaped stone. I took several steps and stood beside it.

«A frog in a Cuisinart,» I said.

«What?»

Its shoulder muscles bunched, its eyes narrowed and its many teeth became very apparent. I spoke a few words to Frakir and felt her stir as I squatted and caught hold of the stone with my right hand.

«That's it,» I said, rising. «It's one of those visual things -»

«That's a rotten riddle!» the sphinx announced.

With my left index finger I made two quick movements in the air before me.

«What are you doing?» it asked.

«Drawing lines from your ears to your eyes,» I said. Frakir became visible at about that moment, sliding from my left wrist to my hand, twining among my fingers. The sphinx's eyes darted in that direction. I raised the stone level with my right shoulder. One end of Frakir fell free and hung writhing from my extended hand. She began to brighten, then glowed like a hot silver wire.

«I believe the contest is a draw,» I stated. «What do you think?»

The sphinx licked its lips.

«Yes,» it finally said, sighing. «I suppose you are right.»

«Then I will bid you good day,» I said.

«Yes. Pity. Very well. Good day. But before you go may I have your name - for the record?»

«Why not?» I said. «I am Merlin, of Chaos.»

«Ah,» it said, «then someone would have come to avenge you.»

«It's possible.»

«Then a draw is indeed best. Go.»

I backed farther off before turning and proceeding up the slope to my right. I remained on guard until I was out of that place, but there was no pursuit.

I began jogging. I was thirsty and hungry, but I wasn't likely to turn up breakfast in this desolate, rocky place under a lemon sky. Frakir recoiled and faded. I began drawing deep breaths as I headed away from the risen sun.

Wind in my hair, dust in my eyes. I bore toward a cluster of boulders, passed among them. Seen from amid their shadows the sky grew greenish above me. Emerging, I came upon a softer plain, glitters in the distance, a few clouds rising to my left.

I maintained a steady pace, reaching a small rise, mounting it, descending its farther side where sparse grasses waved. A grove of mop-topped trees in the distance… I headed for them, startling a small orange-furred creature that sprang across my path and tore away to the left. Moments later, a dark bird flashed by, uttering a wailing note, headed in the same direction. I ran on, and the sky continued to darken.

Green the sky and thicker the grasses, green the grasses, too… Heavy gusts of wind at irregular intervals… Nearer the trees… A singing sound emerges from their branches… The clouds sweep onward…

A tightness goes out of my muscles and a familiar fluidity enters… I pass the first tree, treading upon long, fallen leaves… I pass among hairy-barked boles… The way I follow is hard-packed, becomes a trail, strange foot marks cast within it… It drops, curves, widens, narrows again… The ground rises at either hand… the trees sound bass viol notes… Patches of sky amid the leaves are the color of Morinci turquoise… Streamers of cloud snake forward like silver rivers… Small clusters of blue flowers appear on the trail walls… The walls rise higher, passing above my head… The way grows rocky… I run on…

My path widens, widens, descending steadily… Even before I see or hear it, I smell the water… Carefully now, among the stones… A bit slower here… I turn and see the stream, high, rocky banks at either hand, a meter or two of shoreline before the rise…

Slower still, beside the gurgling, sparkling flow… To follow its meandering… Bends, curves, trees high overhead, exposed roots in the wall to my right, gray and yellow talus-fall along the flaky base…

My shelf widens, the walls lower… More sand and fewer rocks beneath my feet… Lowering, lowering… Headheight, shoulder-height… Another bending of the way, slope descending… Waist high… Green-leafed trees all about me, blue sky overhead, off to the right a hard-packed trail… I mount the slope, I follow it…

Trees and shrubs, bird notes and cool breeze… I suck the air, I lengthen my stride… I cross a wooden bridge, footfalls echoing, creek flowing to the now-masked stream, moss-grown boulders beside its cool… Low stone wall to my right now… Wagon ruts ahead…

Wildflowers at either hand… A sound of distant laughter, echoing… The neigh of a horse… Creak of a cart… Turn left… Widening of the way… Shadow and sunlight, shadow and sunlight… Dapple, dapple… River to the left, wider now, sparkling… Haze of smoke above the next hill…

I slow as I near the summit. I reach it walking, dusting my garments, brushing my hair into place, limbs tingling, lungs pumping, bands of perspiration cooling me. I spit grit. Below me and to the right lies a country inn, some tables on its wide, rough-hewn porch, facing the river, a few in a garden nearby. Bye-bye, present tense. I am arrived.

I walked on down and located a pump at the far side of the building, where I washed my face, hands and arms, my left forearm still sore and slightly inflamed where Jasra had attacked me. I made my way to the porch then and took a small table, after waving to a serving woman I saw within. After a time, she brought me porridge and sausages and eggs and bread and butter and strawberry preserves and tea.

I finished it all quickly and ordered another round of the same. The second time through a feeling of returning normalcy occurred, and I slowed and enjoyed it and watched the river go by.

It was a strange way to wind up the job. I had been looking forward to some leisurely travel, to a long lazy vacation, now my work had been done. The small matter of S had been all that stood in my way - a thing I had been certain I could settle quickly. Now I was in the middle of something I did not understand, something dangerous and bizarre. Sipping my tea and feeling the day warm about me, I could be lulled into a momentary sense of peace. But I knew it for a fleeting thing. There could be no tree rest, no safety for me, until this matter was settled. Looking back over events, I saw that I could no longer trust my reactions alone for my deliverance, for a resolution of this affair. It was time to formulate a plan.

The identity of S and S's removal were high on my list of things that needed knowing and doing. Higher still was the determination of S's motive. My notion that I was dealing with a simple-minded psycho had dissolved. S was too well organized and possessed some very unusual abilities. I began searching my past for possible candidates. But though I could think of quite a few capable of managing what had occurred thus far, none of these were particularly ill-disposed toward me. However, Amber had been mentioned in that strange diary of Melman's. Theoretically, this made the whole thing a family matter and I suppose put me under some obligation to call it to the attention of the others. But to do so would be like asking for help, giving up, saying that I couldn't manage my own affairs. And threats on my life were my own affair. Julia was my affair. The vengeance on this one was to be mine. I had to think about it some more…

Ghostwheel? I mulled it over, dismissed it, thought about it again. Ghostwheel… No. Untried. Still developing. The only reason it had occurred to me at all was because it was my pet, my major accomplishment in life, my surprise for the others.

I was just looking for an easy way out. I would need a lot more data to submit, which meant I had to go after it, of course.

Ghostwheel…

Right now I needed more information. I had the cards and the diary. I didn't want to fool with the Trumps any more at this point, since the first one had seemed something of a trap. I would go through the diary soon, though my initial impression had been that it was too subjective to be of much help. I ought to go back to Melman's for a final look around, though, in case there was anything I had missed. Then I ought to look up Luke and see whether he could tell me anything more - even some small remark - that might be of value. Yes…

I sighed and stretched. I watched the river a little longer and finished my tea. I ran Frakir over a fistful of money and selected sufficient transformed coinage to pay for my meal. Then I returned to the road. Time to run on back.

Chapter 5

I came jogging up the street in the light of late afternoon and halted when I was abreast of my car. I'd almost failed to recognize it. It was covered with dust, ashes, and water stains. How long had I been away, anyhow? I hadn't tried to reckon the time differential between here and where I'd been, but my car looked as if it had been standing exposed for over a month. It seemed intact, though. It had not been vandalized and my gaze had drifted past the hood and on ahead. The building that had housed the Brutus Storage Company and the late Victor Melman no longer stood. A burnt-out, collapsed skeleton of the place occupied the comer, parts of two walls standing. I headed toward it.

Walking about it, I studied what was left. The charred remains of the place were cold and settled. Gray streaks and sooty fairy circles indicated that water had been pumped into it, had since evaporated. The ashy smell was not particularly strong.

Had I started it, with that fire in the bathtub? I wandered. I didn't think so. Mine had been a small enough blaze, and well confined, with no indication of its spreading while I was waiting.

A boy on a green bicycle pedaled past while I was studying tie ruin. Several minutes later he returned and halted about ten feet from me. He looked to be about ten years old.

«I saw it,» he announced. «I saw it burn.»

«When was that?» I asked him.

«Three days ago.»

«'They know how it started?»

«Something in the storage place, something flam -»

«Flammable?»

«Yeah,» he said through a gap-toothed smile. «Maybe on purpose. Something about insurance.»

«Really?»

«Uh-huh. My dad said maybe business was bad.»

«It's been known to happen,» I said. «Was anybody hurt in the fire?»

«They thought maybe the artist who lived upstairs got burned up because nobody could find him. But they didn't see any bones or anything like that. It was a good fire. Burned a long time.»

«Was it nighttime or daytime?»

«Nighttime. I watched from over there.» He pointed to a place across the street and back in the direction from which I had come. «'They put a lot of water on it.»

«Did you see anyone come out of the building?»

«No,» he said. «I got here after it was burning pretty good.»

I nodded and turned back toward my car.

«You'd think bullets would explode in all that fire, wouldn't you?» he said.

«Yes,» I answered.

«But they didn't.» I turned back.

«What do you mean?» I asked.

He was already digging in a pocket.

«Me and some of my friends were playing around in there yesterday,» he explained, «and we found a mess of bullets.»

He opened his hand to display several metallic objects. As I moved toward him, he squatted and placed one of the cylinders on the sidewalk. He reached out suddenly, picked up a nearby rock and swung it toward it.

«Don't!» I cried.

The rock struck the shell and nothing happened.

«You could get hurt that way -» I began, but he interrupted.

«Naw. No way these suckers will explode. You can't even set that pink stuff on fire. Got a match?»

«Pink stuff?» I said as he moved the rock to reveal a mashed shell casing and a small trailing of pink powder.

«That,» he said, pointing. «Funny, huh? I thought gunpowder was gray.»

I knelt and touched the substance. I rubbed it between my fingers. I sniffed it. I even tasted it. I couldn't tell what the hell it was.

«Beats me,» I told him. «Won't even burn, you say?»

«Nope. We put some on a newspaper and set the paper on fire. It'll melt and run, that's all.»

«You got a couple of extras?»

«Well… yeah.»

«I'll give you a buck for them,» I said.

He showed me his teeth and spaces again as his hand vanished into the side of his jeans. I ran Frakir over some odd Shadow cash and withdrew a dollar from the pile. He handed me two sootstreaked double 30's as he accepted it.

«Thanks,» he said.

«My pleasure. Anything else interesting in there?»

«Nope. All the rest is ashes.»

I got into my car and drove. I ran it through the first car wash I came to, since the wipers had only smeared the crap on the windshield. As the rubbery tentacles slapped at me through a sea of foam, I checked to see whether I still had the matchbook Luke had given me. I did. Good. I'd seen a pay phone Outside.

«Hello. New Line Motel,» a young, male voice answered. «You had a Lucas Raynard registered there a couple of days ago,» I said. «I want to know whether he left a message for me. My name's Merle Corey.»

«Just a minute.» Pause. Shuffle. Then: «Yes, he did.»

«What does it say?»

«It's in a sealed envelope. I'd rather not»

«Okay I'll come by»

I drove over. I located the man matching the voice at the desk in the lobby. I identified myself and claimed the envelope. The clerk - a slight, blond fellow with a bristly mustache - stared for a moment, then: «Are you going to see Mr. Raynard?»

«Yes.» He opened a drawer and withdrew a small brown, envelope, its sides distended. Luke's name and room number were written on it.

«He didn't leave a forwarding address,» he explained, opening the envelope, «and the, maid found this ring on the bathroom counter after he'd checked out. Would you give it to him?»

«Sure,» I said, and he passed it to me.

I seated myself in a lounge area off to the left. The ring was of pink gold and sported a blue stone. I couldn't recall ever having seen him wear it. I slipped it on the ring finger of my left hand and it fit perfectly. I decided to wear it until I could give it to him.

I opened the letter, written on motel stationery, and read:

Merle, Too bad about dinner. I did wait around. Hope everything's okay. I'm leaving in the morning for Albuquerque. I'll be there three days. Then up to Santa Fe for three more. Staying at the Hilton in both towns. I did have some more things I wanted to talk about. Please get in touch.

Luke

Hm. I phoned my travel agent and discovered that I could be on an afternoon flight to Albuquerque if I hustled. In that I wanted a face-to-face rather than a phone talk, I did that thing. I stopped by the office, picked up my ticket, paid cash for it, drove to the airport and said good-bye to my car as I parked it. I doubted I would ever see it again. I hefted my backpack and walked to the terminal.

The rest was smooth and easy. As I watched the ground drop away beneath me, I knew that a phase of my existence had indeed ended. Like so many things, it was not at all the way I had wanted it to be. I'd thought to wind up the matter of S pretty quickly or else decide to forget about it, and then visit people I'd been meaning to see for some time and stop at a few places I'd long been curious about. Then I would take off through Shadow for a final check on Ghostwheel, heading back to the brighter pole of my existence after that. Now, my priorities had been shuffled - all because S and Julia's death were somehow connected, and because it involved a power from elsewhere in Shadow that I did not understand.

It was the latter consideration that troubled me most. Was I digging my grave as well as jeopardizing friends and relatives because of my pride? I wanted to handle this myself, friendly skies, but the more I thought about it the more impressed I became with the adversary powers I had encountered and the paucity of my knowledge concerning S. It wasn't fair not to let the others know - not if they might be in danger, too. I'd love to wrap the whole thing up by myself and give it to them for a present. Maybe I would, too, but

Damn it. I had to tell them. If S got me and turned on them, they needed to know. If it were a part of something larger, they needed to know. As much as I disliked the idea, I would have to tell them.

I leaned forward and my hand hovered above my backpack beneath the seat in front of me. It wouldn't hurt, I decided, to wait until after I'd spoken with Luke. I was out of town and probably safe now. There was the possibility of picking up a clue or two from Luke. I'd rather have more to give them when I told my story. I'd wait a little longer.

I sighed. I got a drink from the stewardess and sipped it. Driving to Albuquerque in a normal fashion would have taken too long. Short-cutting through Shadow would not work, because I'd never been there before and didn't know how to find the place. Too bad. I'd like to have my car there. Luke was probably in Santa Fe by now.

I sipped and I looked for shapes in the clouds. The things I found matched my mood, so I got out my paperback and read until we began our descent. When I looked again ranks of mountains filled my prospect for a time. A crackly voice assured me that the weather was pleasant. I wondered about my father.

I hiked in from my gate, passed a gift shop full of Indian jewelry, Mexican pots, and gaudy souvenirs, located a telephone, and called the local Hilton. Luke had already checked out, I learned. I phoned the Hilton in Santa Fe then. He had checked in there but was not in his room when they rang it for me. I made a reservation for myself and hung up. A woman at an information counter told me that I could catch a Shuttlejack to Santa Fe in about half an hour and sent me in the proper direction to buy a ticket. Santa Fe is one of the few state capitals without a major airport, I'd read somewhere.

While we were heading north on I-25, somewhere among lengthening shadows in the vicinity of Sandia Peak, Frakir tightened slightly upon my wrist and released the pressure a moment later. Again. Then once again. I glanced quickly about the small bus, seeking the danger against which I had just been warned.

I was seated in the rear of the vehicle. Up near the front was a middle-aged couple, speaking with Texas accents, wearing an ostentatious quantity of turquoise and silver jewelry; near the middle were three older women, talking about things back in New York; across the aisle from them was a young couple, very absorbed in each other; two young men with tennis racquets sat diagonally to the rear of them, talking about college; behind them was a nun, reading. I looked out the window again and saw nothing particularly threatening on the highway or near it. I did not want to draw to myself the attention that any location practices would involve either.

So I spoke a single word in Thari as I rubbed my wrist, and the warnings ceased. Even though the rest of the ride was uneventful, it bothered me, though an occasional false warning was possible just because of the nature of nervous systems. As I watched red shale and red and yellow earth streak by, bridged arroyos, viewed distant mountains and nearer slopes dotted with piФon, I wondered. S? Is S back there somewhere, somehow, watching, waiting? And if so, why? Couldn't we just sit down and talk about it over a couple of beers? Maybe it was based on some sort of misunderstanding.

I'd a feeling it was not a misunderstanding. But I'd settle for just knowing what was going on, even if nothing were resolved. I'd even pay for the beers.

The light of the setting sun touched flashes of brightness from streaks of snow in the Sangre de Cristos as we pulled into town; shadows slid across gray-green slopes; most of the buildings in sight were stuccoed. It felt about ten degrees cooler when I stepped down from the bus in front of the Hilton than it had when I'd boarded in Albuquerque. But then, I' d gained about two thousand feet in altitude and it was an hour and a quarter further along in the direction of evening.

I registered and found my room. I tried phoning Luke, but there was no answer. I showered then and changed into my spare outfit. Rang his room once more then, but still no answer. I was getting hungry and I'd hoped to have dinner with him.

I decided to find the bar and nurse a beer for a while, then try again. I hoped he didn't have a heavy date.

A Mr. Brazda, whom I approached in the lobby and asked for directions, turned out to be the manager. He asked about my room, we exchanged a few pleasantries and he showed me the corridor leading off to the lounge. I started in that direction, but didn't quite make. it.

«Merle! What the hell are you doing here?» came a familiar voice.

I turned and regarded Luke, who had, just entered the lobby. Sweaty and smiling, he was wearing dusty fatigues and boots, a fatigue cap, and a few streaks of grime. We shook hands and I said, «I wanted to talk to you.» Then: «What'd you do, enlist in something?»

«No, I've been off hiking in the Pecos all day,» he answered. «I always do that when I'm out this way. It's great.

«I'll have to try it sometime,» I said. «Now it seems it's my turn to buy dinner.»

«You're right,» he answered. «Let me catch a shower and change clothes. I'll meet you in the bar in fifteen, twenty minutes. Okay?»

«Right. See you.»

I headed up the corridor and located the place. It was medium-sized, dim, cool and relatively crowded, divided into two widely connected rooms, with low, comfortablelooking chairs and small tables.

A young couple was just abandoning a corner table off to my left, drinks in hand, to follow a waitress into the adjacent dining room. I took the table. A little later a cocktail waitress came by, and I ordered a beer.

Sitting there, several minutes later, sipping, and letting my mind drift over the perversely plotted events of the past several days, I realized that one of the place's passing figures had failed to pass. It had come to a halt at my side - just far enough to the rear to register only as a dark peripheral presence.

It spoke softly: «Excuse me. May I ask you a question?»

I turned my head, to behold a short, thin man of Spanish appearance, his hair and mustache flecked with gray. He was sufficiently well dressed and groomed to seem a local business type. I noted a chipped front tooth when he smiled so briefly - just a twitch - as to indicate nervousness.

«My name's Dan Martinez,» he said, not offering to shake hands. He glanced at the chair across from me. «Could I sit down a minute?»

«What's this about? If you're selling something, I'm not interested. I'm waiting for somebody and-'

He shook his head.

«No, nothing like that. I'know you're waiting for someone - a Mr. Lucas Raynard. It involves him, actually»

I gestured at the chair.

«Okay. Sit down and ask your question.»

He did so, clasping his hands and placing them on the table between us. He leaned forward.

«I overheard you talking in the lobby,» he began, «and I got the impression you knew him fairly well. Would you mind telling me for about how long you've known him?»

«If that's all you want to know,» I answered, «for about eight years. We went to college together, and we worked for the same company for several years after that.»

«Grand Design,» he stated, «the San Francisco computer firm. Didn't know him before college, huh?»

«It seems you already know quite a bit,» I said. «What did you want, anyway? Are you some kind of cop?»

«No,» he said, «nothing like that. I assure you I'm not trying to get your friend into trouble. I am simply trying to save myself some. Let me just ask you-'

I shook my head.

«No more freebies,» I told him. «I don't care to talk to strangers about my friends without some pretty good reasons.»

He unclasped his hands and spread them wide.

«I'm not being underhanded,» he said, «when I know you'll tell him about it. In fact, I want you to. He knows me. I want him to know I'm asking around about him, okay? It'll actually be to his benefit. Hell, I'm even asking - a friend, aren't I? Someone who might be willing to lie to help him out. And I just need a couple simple facts -»

«And I just need one simple reason: why do you want this information?»

He sighed. «Okay,» he said. «He offered me - tentatively, mind you - a very interesting investment opportunity. It would involve a large sum of money. There is an element of risk, as in most ventures involving new companies in a highly competitive area, but the possible returns do make it tempting.»

I nodded.

«And you want to know whether he's honest.»

He chuckled.

«I don't really care whether he's honest,» he said. «My only concern is whether he can deliver a product with no strings on it.»

Something about the way this man talked reminded me of someone. I tried, but couldn't recall who it was:

«Ah,» I said, taking a sip of beer. «I'm slow today. Sorry. Of course this deal involves computers.»

«Of course.»

«You want to know whether his present employer can nail him if he goes into business out here with whatever he's bringing with him.»

«In a word, yes.»

«I give up,» I said. «It would take a better man than me to answer that. Intellectual properties represent a tricky area of the law. I don't know what he's selling and I don't know where it comes from - he gets around a lot. But even if I did know, I have no idea what your legal position would be.

«I didn't expect anything beyond that,» he said, smiling. I smiled back.

«So you've sent your message,» I said. He nodded and began to rise.

«Oh, just one thing more,» he began.

«Yes?»

«Did he ever mention places,» he said, staring full into my eyes, «called Amber or the Courts of Chaos?»

He could not have failed to note my startled reaction, which had to have given him a completely false impression. I was sure that he was sure I was lying when I answered

him truthfully.

«No, I never heard him refer to them. Why do you ask?»

He shook his head as he pushed his chair back and stepped away from the table. He was smiling again.

«It's not important. Thank you, Mr. Corey. Nus a dhabzhun dhuilsha.»

He practically fled around the corner.

«Wait!» I called out, so loudly that there was a moment of silence and heads turned in my direction.

I got to my feet and started after him, when I heard my name called.

«Hey, Merle! Don't run off! I'm here already!»

I turned. Luke had just come in through the entrance behind me, hair still shower-damp. He advanced, clapped me on the shoulder, and lowered himself into the seat Martinez had just vacated. He nodded at my half finished beer as I sat down again.

«I need one of those,» he said. «Lord, am I thirsty!» Then, «Where were you off to when I came in?»

I found myself reluctant to describe my recent encounter, not least because of its strange conclusion. Apparently, he had just missed seeing Martinez.

So: «I was heading for the john.»

«It's back that way,» he told me, nodding in the direction from which he had entered. «I passed it on the way in.» His eyes shifted downward.

«Say, that ring you have on -»

«Oh, yeah,» I said. «You left it at the New Line Motel. I picked it up for you when I collected your message. Here, let me…»

I tugged at it, but it wouldn't come off.

«Seems to be stuck,» I noted. «Funny. It went on easy enough.»

«Maybe your finger's swollen,» he remarked. «It could have something to do with the altitude. We're up pretty high.»

He caught the waitress's attention and ordered a beer, while I kept twisting at the ring.

«Guess I'll just have to sell it to you;» he said: «Give you a good deal.»

«We'll see,» I told him. «Back in a minute.»

He raised one hand limply and let it fall as I headed toward the rest room.

There was no one else in the facility, and so I spoke the words that released Frakir from the suppression spell I had uttered back aboard the Shuttlejack. There followed immediate movement. Before I could issue another command, Frakir became shimmeringly visible in the act of uncoiling, crept across the back of my hand and wound about my ring finger. I watched, fascinated, as the finger darkened and began to ache beneath a steady tightening.

A loosening followed quickly, leaving my finger looking as if it had been threaded. I got the idea. I unscrewed the ring along the track that had been pressed into my flesh. Frakir moved again as if to snag it and I stroked her.

«Okay,» I said. «'Thanks. Return.»

There seemed a moment of hesitation, but my will proved sufficient without a more formal command. She retreated back across my hand, rewound herself about my wrist, and faded.

I finished up in there and returned to the bar. I passed Luke his ring as I seated myself, and took a sip of beer. «How'd you get it off?» he asked.

«A bit of soap,» I answered.

He wrapped it in his handkerchief and put it in his pocket. «Guess I can't take your money for it, then.»

«Guess not. Aren't you going to wear it?»

«No, it's a present. You know, I hardly expected you to make the scene here,» he commented, scooping a handful of peanuts from a bowl that had appeared in my absence. «I thought maybe you'd just call when you got my message, and we could set something up for later. Glad you did, though. Who knows when later might have been. See, I had some plans that started moving faster than I'd thought they would - and that's what I wanted to talk to you about.»

I nodded.

«I had a few things I wanted to talk to you about, too.»

He returned my nod.

I had decided back in the lavatory definitely to refrain from mentioning Martinez yet, and the first things he had said and implied. Although the entire setup did not sound as if it involved anything in which I had any interest any longer, I always feel more secure in talking with anyone, even friends - when I have at least a little special information they don't know r have. So I decided to keep it that way for now.

«So let's be civilized and hold everything important till after dinner,» he said, slowly shredding his napkin and wadding the pieces, «and go somewhere we can talk in private then.»

«Good idea,» I agreed. «Want to eat here?» He shook his head…

«I've been eating here. It's good, but I want a change. I had my heart set on eating at a place around the corner. Let me go and see if they've got a table.»

«Okay.» He gulped the rest of his drink and departed.

…And then the mention of Amber. Who the hell was Martinez? It was more than a little necessary that I learn this, because it was obvious to me that he was something other than he appeared to be. His final words had been in Thari, my native tongue. How this could be and why it should be, I had no idea. I cursed my own inertia, at having let the S situation slide for so long. It was purely a result of my arrogance. I'd never anticipated the convoluted mess the affair would become. Served me right, though I didn't appreciate the service.

«Okay,» Luke said, rounding the corner, digging into his pocket, and tossing some money on the table. «We've got a reservation. Drink up, and let's take a walk.»

I finished, stood and followed him. He led me through the corridors and back to the lobby, then out and along a hallway to the rear. We emerged into a balmy evening and crossed the parking lot to the sidewalk that ran along Guadaloupe Street. From there it was only a short distance to the place where it intersected with Alameda. We crossed twice there and strolled on past a big church, then turned right at the next comer. Luke pointed out a restaurant called La Tertulia across the street a short distance ahead.

«'There,» he said.

We crossed over and found our way to the entrance. It was a low adobe building, Spanish, venerable, and somewhat elegant inside. We went through a pitcher of sangria, orders of pollo adova, bread puddings, and many cups of coffee, keeping our agreement not to speak of anything serious during dinner.

During the course of the meal Luke was greeted twice, by different guys passing through the room, both of whom paused at the table to pass a few pleasantries.

«You know everybody in this town?» I asked him a bit later.

He chuckled. «I do a lot of business here.»

«Really? It seems a pretty small town.»

«Yes, but that's deceptive. It is the state capital. There're a lot of people here buying what we're selling.»

«So you're out this way a lot?»

He nodded. «It's one of the hottest spots on my circuit.»

«How do you manage all this business when you're out hiking in the woods?»

He looked up from the small battle formation he was creating from the things on the table. He smiled.

«I've got to have a little recreation,» he said. «I get tired of cities and offices. I have to get away and hike around, or canoe or kayak or something like that - or I'd go out of my gourd. In fact, that's one of the reasons I built up the business in this town - quick access to a lot of good places for that stuff.»

He took a drink of coffee.

«You know,» he continued, «it's such a nice night we ought to take a drive, let you get a feeling of what I mean.»

«Sounds good,» I said, stretching my shoulders and looking for our waiter. «But isn't it too dark to see much?»

«No. The moon'll be up, the stars are out, the air's real clear. You'll see.»

I got the tab, paid up, and we strolled out. Sure enough, the moon had risen.

«Car's in the hotel lot,» he said as we hit the street. «This side.»

He indicated a station wagon once we were back in the parking lot, unlocked it, and waved me aboard. He drove us out, turned at the nearest corner, and followed the Alameda to the Paseo, took a right leading uphill on a street called Otero and another onto Hyde Park Road. From then on traffic was very light. We passed a sign indicating that we were heading toward a ski basin.

As we worked our way through many curves, heading generally upward, I felt a certain tension going out of me. Soon we had left all signs of habitation behind us, and the night and the quiet settled fully no streetlights here. Through the opened window I smelled pine trees. The air was cool. I rested, away from S and everything else.

I glanced at Luke. He stared straight ahead, brow furrowed. He felt my gaze, though, because he seemed to relax suddenly and he shot me a grin.

«Who goes first?» he asked.

«Go ahead,» I answered.

«Okay. When we were talking the other morning about your leaving Grand D, you said you weren't going to work anywhere else and you weren't planning on teaching.»

«That's right.»

«You said you were just going to travel around.»

«Yep»

«Something else did suggest itself to me a little later on.»

I remained silent as he glanced my way.

«I was wondering,» he said after a time, «whether you might not be shopping around - either for backing in getting your own company going, or for a buyer for something you have to sell. You know what I mean?»

«You think I came up with something - innovative and didn't want Grand Design to have it.»

He slapped the seat beside him.

«Always knew you were no fool,» he said. «So you're screwing around now, to allow decent time for its development. Then you hunt up the buyer with the most bread.»

«Makes sense,» I said, «if that were the case. But it isn't.»

He chuckled.

«It's okay,» he said. «Just because I work for Grand D doesn't make me their fink. You ought to know that.»

«I do know it.»

«And I wasn't asking just to pry. In fact, I had other intentions completely. I'd like to see you make out with it, make out big.»

«Thanks.»

«I might even be of some assistance - valuable assistance - in the matter.»

«I begin to get the drift, Luke, but -»

«Just hear me out, huh? But answer one thing first, though, if you would: You haven't signed anything with anybody in the area, have you?»

«No.»

«Didn't think so. It would seem a little premature.»

The roadside trees were larger now, the night breeze a bit more chill. The moon seemed bigger, more brilliant up here than it had in the town below. We rounded several more curves, eventually commencing a long series of switchbacks that bore us higher and higher. I caught occasional glimpses of sharp drops to the left. There was no guard rail.

«Look,» he said, «I'm not trying to cut myself in for nothing. I'm not asking you for a piece of the action for old times' sake or anything like that. That's one thing and business is another - though it never hurts to do a deal with someone you know you can trust. Let me tell you some of the facts of life. If you've got some really fantastic design, sure, you can go sell it for a bundle to lots of people in the business - if you're careful, damn careful. But that's it. Your golden opportunity's flown then. If you really want to clean up, you start your own outfit. Look at Apple. If it really catches on you can always sell out then, for a lot more than you'd get from just peddling the idea. You may be a whiz at design, but I know the marketplace. And I know people - all over the country - people who'd trust me enough to bankroll us to see it off the ground and out on the street. Shit! I'm not going to stay with Grand D all my life. Let me in and I'll get us the financing. You run the shop and I'll run the business. That's the only way to go with something big.»

«Oh, my,» I sighed. «Man, it actually sounds nice. But you're following a bum scent. I don't have anything to sell.»

«Come on!» he said. «You know you can level with me. Even if you absolutely refuse to go that way, I'm not going to talk about it. I don't screw my buddies. I just think you're making a mistake if you don't develop it yourself.»

«Luke, I meant what I said.»

He was silent for a little while. Then I felt his gaze upon me again. When I glanced his way I saw that he was smiling.

«What,» I asked him, «is the next question?»

«What is Ghostwheel?» he said.

«What?»

«Top secret, hush-hush, Merle Corey project. Ghostwheel,» he answered. «Computer design incorporating shit nobody's ever seen before. Liquid semiconductors, cryogenic tanks, plasma -»

I started laughing.

«My God!» I said. «It's a joke, that's what it is. Just a crazy hobby thing. It was a design game - a machine that could never be built on Earth. Well, maybe most of it could. But it wouldn't function. It's like an Escher drawing - looks great on paper, but it can't be done in real life.»

Then after a moment's reflection, I asked, «How is it you even know about it? I've never mentioned it to anyone.»

He cleared his throat as he took another turn. The moon was raked by treetops. A few beads of moisture appeared upon the windshield.

«Well, you weren't all that secret about it,» he answered. «There were designs and graphs and notes all over your work table and drawing hard any number of times I was at your place. I could hardly help but notice. Most of them were even labeled `Ghostwheel. ' And nothing anything like it ever showed up at Grand D, so I simply assumed it was your pet project and your ticket to security. You never impressed me as the impractical dreamer type. Are you sure you're giving this to me straight?»

«If we were to sit down and build as much as could be constructed of that thing right here,» I replied honestly, «it would just sit there and look weird and wouldn't do a damned thing.»

He shook his head.

«That sounds perverse,» he said. «It's not like you, Merle. Why the hell would you waste your time designing a machine that doesn't function?»

«It was an exercise in design theory» I began.

«Excuse me, but that sounds like bullshit,» he said. «You mean to say there's no place in the universe that damn machine of yours would kick over?»

«I didn't say that. I was trying to explain that I designed it to operate under bizarre hypothetical conditions.»

«Oh. In other words, if I find a place like that on another world we can clean up?»

«Uh, yeah.»

«You're weird, Merle. You know that?»

«Uh-huh.»

«Another dream shot to shit. Oh, well… Say, is there anything unusual about it that could be adapted to the here and now?»

«Nope. It couldn't perform its functions here.»

«What's so special about its functions, anyhow?»

«A lot of theoretical crap involving space and time and some notions of some guys named Everett and Wheeler. It's only amenable to a mathematical explanation.»

«You sure?»

«What difference does it make, anyhow? I've got no product, we've got no company. Sorry. Tell Martinez and associates it was a blind alley.»

«Huh? Who's Martinez?»

«One of your potential investors in Corey and Raynard, Inc.,» I said. «Dan Martinez - middle-aged, a bit short, kind of distinguished-looking, chipped front tooth…»

His brow furrowed. «Merle, I don't know who the hell you're talking about.»

«He came up to me while I was waiting for you in the bar. Seemed to know an awful lot about you. Started asking questions on what I can now see as the potential situation you just described. Acted as if you'd approached him to invest in the thing.»

«Uh-uh,» he said. «I don't know him. How come you didn't tell me sooner?»

«He beat it, and you said no business till after dinner. Didn't seem all that important, anyway. He even as much as asked me to let you know he'd been inquiring about you.»

«What, specifically, did he want to know?»

«Whether you could deliver an unencumbered computer property and keep the investors out of court, was what I gathered.»

He slapped the wheel. «This makes no sense at all,» he said. «It really doesn't.»

«It occurs to me that he might have been hired to investigate a bit - or even just to shake you up some and keep you honest - by the people you've been sounding out to invest in this thing.»

«Merle, do you think I'm so damn stupid I'd waste a lot of time digging up investors before I was even sure there was something to put the money into? I haven't talked to anybody about this except you, and I guess I won't be now either. Who do you think he could have been? What did he want?»

I shook my head, but I was remembering those words in Thari.

Why not?

«He also asked me whether I'd ever heard you refer to a place called Amber.»

He was looking in the rearview mirror when I said it, and he jerked the wheel to catch a sudden curve. «Amber? You're kidding.»

«No.»

«Strange. It has to be a coincidence -»

«What?»

«I did hear a reference to a kind of dreamland place called Amber, last week. But I never mentioned it to anybody. It was just drunken babbling.»

«Who? Who said it?»

«A painter I know. A real nut, but a very talented guy. Name's Melman. I like his work a lot, and I've bought several of his paintings. I'd stopped by to see whether he had anything new this last time I was in town. He didn't, but I stayed pretty late at his place anyway, talking and drinking and smoking some stuff he had. He got pretty high after a while and he started talking about magic. Not card tricks, I mean. Ritual stuff, you know?»

«Yes.»

«Well, after a time he started doing some of it. If it weren't that I was kind of stoned myself I'd swear that it worked - that he levitated, summoned sheets of fire, conjured and banished a number of monsters. There had to've been acid in something he gave me. But damn! It sure seemed real.»

«Uh-huh.»

«Anyway,» he went on, «he mentioned a sort of archetypal city. I couldn't tell whether it sounded more like Sodom and Gomorrah or Camelot - all the adjectives he used. He called the place Amber, and said that it was run by a half mad family, with the city itself peopled by their bastards and folks whose ancestors they'd brought in from other places ages ago. Shadows of the family and the city supposedly figure in most major legends and such whatever that means. I could never be sure whether he was talking in metaphor, which he did a lot, or just what the hell he meant. But that's where I heard the place mentioned.»

«Interesting,» I said. «Melman is dead. His place burned down a few days ago.»

«No, I didn't know.» He glanced into the mirror again. «Did you know him?»

«I met him - after you left this last time. Kinsky told me Julia'd been seeing him, and I looked the guy up to see what he could tell me about her. You see - well, Julia's dead.»

«How'd it happen? I just saw her last week.»

«In a very bizarre fashion. She was killed by a strange animal»

«Lord!» He braked suddenly and pulled off the road onto a wide shoulder to the left. It looked upon a steep, tree-filled drop. Above the trees I could see the tiny lights of the city across a great distance.

He killed the engine and the headlights. He took a Durham 's bag from his pocket and began rolling a cigarette. I caught him glancing upward and ahead.

«You've been checking that mirror a lot.»

«Yes,» he replied. «I was just about sure a car had been following us all the way from the parking lot down at the Hilton. It was a few turns behind us for the longest while. Now it seems to have disappeared.»

He lit his cigarette and opened the door. «Let's get some air.»

I followed him and we stood for a few moments staring out across the big spaces, the moonlight strong enough to cast the shadows of some trees near to us. He threw down the cigarette and stamped on it.

«Shit!» he said. «'This is getting too involved! I knew Julia was seeing Melman, okay? I went to see her the night after I'd seen him, okay? I even delivered a small parcel he' d asked me to take her, okay?»

«Cards,» I said. He nodded.

I withdrew them from my pocket and held them toward him. He barely glanced at them there in the dim light, but he nodded again.

«Those cards,» he said. Then: «You still liked her, didn't you?»

«Yes, I guess I did.»

«Oh, hell,» he sighed. «All right. There are some things I'm going to have to tell you, old buddy. Not all of them nice. Give me just a minute to sort it all out. You've just given me one big problem - or I've given it to myself, because I've just decided something.»

He kicked a patch of gravel and the stones rattled down the hillside.

«Okay,» he said. «First, give me those cards.»

«Why?»

«I'm going to tear them into confetti.»

«The hell you are. Why?»

«They're dangerous.»

«I already know that. I'll hang onto them.»

«You don't understand.»

«So explain.»

«It's not that easy. I have to decide what to tell you and what not to.»

«Why not just tell me everything?»

«I can't. Believe me -»

I hit the ground as soon as I heard the first shot, which ricocheted off a boulder to our right. Luke didn't. He began running in a zigzag pattern toward a cluster of trees off to our left, from which two more shots were fired. He had something in his hand and he raised it.

Luke fired three times. Our assailant got off one more round. After Luke's second shot I heard someone gasp. I was on my feet by then and running toward him, a rock in my hand. After his third shot I heard a body fall.

I reached him just as he was turning the body over, in time to see what seemed a faint cloud of blue or gray mist emerge from the man's mouth past his chipped tooth and drift away.

«What the hell was that?» Luke asked as it blew away.

«You saw it, too? I don't know.»

He looked down at the limp form with the dark spot growing larger on its shirtfront, a 38' revolver still clutched in the right hand.

«I didn't know you carried a gun,» I said.

«When you're on the road as much as I am, you go heeled,» he answered. «I pick up a new one in each city I hit and sell it when I leave. Airline security. Guess I won't be selling this one. I never saw this guy, Merle. You?»

I nodded.,

«That's Dan Martinez, the man I was telling you about.»

«Oh, boy,» he said. «Another damn complication. Maybe I should just join a Zen monastery someplace and persuade myself it doesn't matter. I -»

Suddenly, he raised his left fingertips to his forehead. «Oh-oh,» he said then. «Merle, the keys are in the ignition. Get in the car and drive back to the hotel right away. Leave me here. Hurry!»

«What's going on? What -»

He raised his weapon, a snub-nosed automatic, and pointed it at me.

«Now! Shut up and go!» «But -»

He lowered the muzzle and put a bullet into the ground between my feet. Then he aimed it squarely at my abdomen. «Merlin, son of Corwin,» he said through clenched teeth,

«if you don't start running right now you're a dead man!» I followed his advice, raising a shower of gravel and laying some streaks of rubber coming out of the U-turn I spun the wagon through. I roared down the hill and skidded around the curve to my right. I braked for the next one to my left. Then I slowed.

I pulled off to the left, at the foot of a bluff, near some shrubbery. I killed the engine and the lights and put on the parking brake. I opened the door quietly and did not close it fully after I'd slipped out. Sounds carry too well in places like this.

I started back, keeping to the darker, righthand side of the road. It was very quiet. I rounded the first turn and headed for the next one. Something flew from one tree - to another. An owl, I think. I moved more slowly than I wanted to, for the sake of silence, as I neared the second turning.

I made my way around that final corner on all fours, taking advantage of the cover provided by rocks and foliage. I halted then and studied the area we had occupied. Nothing in sight. I advanced slowly, cautiously, ready to freeze, drop, dive, or spring up into a run as the situation required.

Nothing stirred, save branches in the wind. No one in sight.

I rose into a crouch and continued, still more slowly; still hugging the cover.

Not there. He had taken off for somewhere. I moved nearer, halted again and listened for at least a minute. No sounds betrayed any moving presences.

I crossed to the place where Martinez had fallen. The body was gone. I paced about the area but could locate nothing to give me any sort of clue as to what might have occurred following my departure. I could think of no reason for calling out, so I didn't.

I walked back to the car without misadventure, got in and headed for town. I couldn't even speculate as to what the hell was going on.

I left the wagon in the hotel lot, near to the spot where it had been parked earlier. Then I went inside, walked to Luke's room, and knocked on the door. I didn't really expect a response; but it seemed the proper thing to do preparatory to breaking and entering.

I was careful to snap only the lock, leaving the door and the fame intact, because Mr. Brazda had seemed a nice guy. It took a little longer, but there was no one in sight. I reached in and turned on the light, did a quick survey, then slipped inside quickly. I stood listening for a few minutes but heard no sounds of activity from the hall.

Tight ship. Suitcase on luggage rack, empty. Clothing hung in closet - nothing in the pockets except for two matchbooks, and a pen and pencil. A few other garments and some undergarments in a drawer, nothing with them. Toiletries in shaving kit or neatly arrayed on countertop. Nothing peculiar there. A copy of B. H. Liddell Hart's Strategy lay upon the bedside table, a bookmark about threequarters of the way into it.

His fatigues had been thrown onto a chair, his dusty boots stood next to it, socks beside them. Nothing inside the boots but a pair of blousing bands. I checked the shirt pockets, which at first seemed empty, but my fingertips then discovered a number of small white paper pellets in one of them. Puzzled, I unfolded a few. Bizarre secret messages? No… No sense getting completely paranoid, when a few brown flecks on a paper answered the question. Tobacco. They were pieces of cigarette paper: Obviously he stripped his butts when he was hiking in the wilderness. I recalled a few past hikes with him. He hadn't always been that neat.

I went through the trousers. There was a damp bandana in one hid pocket and a comb in the other. Nothing in the right front pocket, a single round of ammo in the left. On an impulse, I pocketed the shell, then went on to look beneath the mattress and behind the drawers. I even looked in the toilet's flush box. Nothing. Nothing to explain his strange behavior.

Leaving the car keys on the bedside table I departed and returned to my own room. I did not care that he'd know I'd broken in. In fact, I rather liked the idea. It irritated me that he'd poked around in my Ghostwheel papers. Besides, he owed me a damned good explanation for his behavior on the mountain.

I undressed, showered, got into bed, and doused my light. I'd have left him a note, too, except that I don't like to create evidence and I had a strong feeling that he wouldn't be coming back.

Chapter 6

He was a short, heavy-set man with a somewhat florid complexion, his dark hair streaked with white and perhaps a bit thin on top. I sat in the study of his semirural home in upstate New York, sipping a beer and telling him my troubles. It was a breezy, star-dotted night beyond the window and he was a good listener.

«You say that Luke didn't show up the following day,» he said. «Did he send a message?»

«No.»

«What exactly did you do that day?»

«I checked his room in the morning. It was just as I'd left it. I went by the desk. Nothing, like I said. Then I had breakfast and I checked again. Nothing again. So I took a long walk around the town. Got back a little after noon, had lunch, and tried the room again. It was the same. I borrowed the car keys then and drove back up to the place we'd been the night before. No sign of anything unusual there, looking at it in the light of day. I even climbed down the slope and hunted around. No body, no clues. I drove back, replaced the keys, hung around the hotel till dinner time, ate, then called you. After you told me to come on up, I made a reservation and went to bed early. Caught the Shuttlejack this morning and flew here from Albuquerque.»

«And you checked again this morning?»

«Yeah. Nothing new.»

He shook his head and relit his pipe.

His name was Bill Roth, and he had been my father's friend as well as his attorney, back when he'd lived in this area. He was possibly the only man on Earth Dad had trusted, and I trusted him, too. I'd visited him a number of times during my eight years - most recently, unhappily, a year and a half earlier, at the time of his wife, Alice's, funeral. I had told him my father's story, as I had heard it from his own lips, outside the Courts of Chaos, because I'd gotten the impression that he had wanted Bill to know what had been going on, felt he'd owed him some sort of explanation for all the help he'd given him. And Bill actually seemed to understand and believe it. But then, he'd known Dad a lot better than I did.

«I've remarked before on the resemblance you bear your father.»

I nodded.

«It goes beyond the physical,» he continued. «For a while there he had a habit of showing up like a downed fighter pilot behind enemy lines. I'll never forget the night he arrived on horseback with a sword at his side and had me trace a missing compost heap for him.» He chuckled. «Now you come along with a story that makes me believe Pandora's box has been opened again. Why couldn't you just want a divorce like any sensible young man? Or a will written or a trust set up? A partnership agreement? Something like that? No, this sounds more like one of Carl's problems. Even the other stuff I've done for Amber seems pretty sedate by comparison.»

«Other stuff? You mean the Concord - the time Random sent Fiona with a copy of the Patternfall Treaty with Swayvil, King of Chaos, for her to translate and you to look at for loopholes?»

«That, yes,» he said, «though I wound up studying your language myself before I was done. Then Flora wanted her library recovered - no easy job - and then an old flame traced - whether for reunion or revenge I never learned. Paid me in gold, though. Bought the place in Palm Beach with it. Then - Oh, hell. For a while there, I thought of adding `Counsel to the Court of Amber' to my business card. But that sort of work was understandable. I do similar things on a mundane level all the time. Yours, though, has that black magic and sudden-death quality to it that seemed to follow your father about. It scares the hell out of me, and I wouldn't even know how to go about advising you on it.»

«Well, the black magic and sudden-death parts are my area, I guess,» I observed. «In fact, they may color my thinking too much. You're bound to look at things a lot differently than I do. A blind spot by definition is something you're not aware of. What might I be missing?»

He took a sip of his beer, lit his pipe again.

«Okay,» he said. «Your friend Luke - where's he from?»

«Somewhere in the Midwest, I believe he said: Nebraska, Iowa, Ohio - one of those places.»

«Mm-hm. What line of work is his old man in?»

«He never mentioned it.»

«Does he have any brothers or sisters?»

«I don't know. He never said.»

«Doesn't that strike you as somewhat odd - that he never mentioned his family or talked about his home town in the whole eight years you've known him?»

«No. After all, I never talked about mine either.»

«It's not natural, Merle. You grew up in a strange place that you couldn't talk about. You had every reason to change the subject, avoid the issues. He obviously did, too. And then, back when you came you weren't even certain how most people here behaved. But didn't you ever wonder about Luke?»

«Of course. But he respected my reticence. I could do no less for him. You might say that we had a sort of tacit agreement that such things were off limits.»

«How'd you meet him?»

«We were freshmen together, had a lot of the same classes.»

«And you were both strangers in town, no other friends. You hit it off from the beginning…»

«No. We barely talked to each other. I thought he was an arrogant bastard who felt he was ten times better than anybody he'd ever met. I didn't like him, and he didn't like me much either.»

«Why not?»

«He felt the same way about me.»

«So it was only gradually that you came to realize you were both wrong?»

«No. We were both right. We got to know each other by trying to show each other up. if I'd do something kind of outstanding - he'd try to top it. And vice versa. We got so we'd go out for the same sport, try to date the same girls, try to beat each other's grades.»

«And?…»

«Somewhere along the line I guess we started to respect each other. When we both made the Olympic finals something broke. We started slapping each other on the back and laughing, and we went out and had dinner and sat up all night talking and he said he didn't give a shit about the Olympics and I said I didn't either. He said he'd just wanted to show me he was a better man and now he didn't care anymore. He'd decided we were both good enough, and he'd just as soon let the matter stand at that - I felt exactly the same way and told him so. That was when we got to be friends.»

«I can understand that,» Bill said. «It's a specialized sort of friendship. You're friends in certain places.»

I laughed and took a drink.

«Isn't everyone?»

«At first, yes. Sometimes always. Nothing wrong with that. It's just that yours seems a much more highly specialized friendship than most.»

I nodded slowly. «Maybe so.»

«So it still doesn't make sense. Two guys as close as you got to be - with no pasts to show to each other.»

«I guess you're right. What does it mean?»

«You're not a normal human being.»

«No, I' m not.»

«I'm not so sure Luke is either.»

«What, then?»

«That's your department.»

I nodded.

«Apart from that issue,» Bill continued, «something else has been bothering me.»

«What?»

«This Martinez fellow. He followed you out to the boondocks, stopped when you did, stalked you, then opened fire. Who was he after? Both of you? Just Luke? Or just you?»

«I don't know. I'm not sure which of us that first shot was aimed for. After that, he was firing at Luke - because by then Luke was attacking and he was defending himself.»

«Exactly. If he were S - or S's agent - why would he even have bothered with that conversation with you in the bar?»

«I now have the impression that the whole thing was an elaborate buildup to that final question of his, as to whether Luke knew anything about Amber.»

«And your reaction, rather than your answer, led him to believe that he did.»

«Well, apparently Luke does - from the way he addressed me right there at the end. You think he was really gunning for someone from Amber?»

«Maybe. Luke is no Amberite, though?»

«I never heard of anyone like him in the time I spent there after the war. And I got plenty of lectures on genealogy. My relatives are like a sewing circle when it comes to keeping track of such matters - a lot less orderly about it than they are in Chaos - can't even decide exactly who's oldest, because some of them were born in different time streams - but they're pretty thorough»

«Chaos! That's right! You're also lousy with relatives on that side! Could-?»

I shook my head. «No way. I have an even more extensive knowledge of the families there. I believe I'm acquainted with just about all of the ones who can manipulate Shadow, traverse it. Luke's not one of them and -»

«Wait a minute! There are people in the Courts who can walk in Shadow, also?»

«Yes. Or stay in one place and bring things from Shadow to them. It's a kind of reverse -»

«I thought you had to walk the Pattern to gain that power?»

«They have a sort of equivalent called the Logrus. It's a kind of chaotic maze. Keeps shifting about. Very dangerous. Unbalances you mentally, too, for a time. No fun.»

«So you've done it?»

«Yes.»

«And you walked the Pattern as well?»

I licked my lips, remembering.

«Yes. Damn near killed me. Suhuy'd thought it would, but Fiona thought I could make it if she helped. I was -»

«Who's Suhuy?»

«He's Master of the Logrus. He's an uncle of mine, too. He felt that the Pattern of Amber and the Logrus of Chaos were incompatible, that I could not bear the images of both within me. Random, Fiona, and Gerard had taken me down to show me the Pattern. I got in touch with Suhuy then and gave him a look at it. He said that they seemed antithetical, and that I would either be destroyed by the attempt or the Pattern would drive the image of the Logrus from me, probably the former. But Fiona said that the Pattern should be able to encompass anything, even the Logrus, and from what she understood of the Logrus it should be able to work its way around anything, even the Pattern. So they left it up to me, and I knew that I had to walk it. So I did. I made it, and I still bear the Logrus as well as the Pattern. Suhuy acknowledged that Fi had been right, and he speculated that it had to do with my mixed parentage. She disagreed, though -»

Bill raised his hand. «Wait a minute. I don't understand how you got your uncle Suhuy down into the basement of Amber Castle on a moment's notice.»

«Oh, I have a set of Chaos Trumps as well as a set of Amber Trumps, for my relatives back in the Courts.»

He shook his head. «All of this is fascinating, but we're straying from the point. Is there anyone else who can walk in Shadow? Or are there other ways of doing it?»

«Yes, there are different ways it could be done. There are a number of magical beings, like the Unicorn, who can just wander wherever they want. And you can follow a Shadow walker or a magical being through Shadow for so long as you can keep track of it, no matter who you are. Kind of like Thomas Rhymer is the ballad. And one Shadow walker could lead an army through. And then there are the inhabitants of the various Shadow kingdoms nearest to Amber and to Chaos. Those at both ends breed mighty sorcerers, just because of their proximity to the two power centers. Some of the good ones can become fairly adept at it - but their images of the Pattern or the Logrus are imperfect, so they're never quite as good as the real thing. But on either end they don't even need an initiation to wander on in. The Shadow interfaces are thinnest there. We even have commerce with them, actually. And established routes become easier and easier to follow with time. Going outward is harder, though. But large attacking forces have been known to come through. That's why we maintain patrols. Julian in Arden, Gerard at sea, and so forth.»

«Any other ways?»

«A Shadow-storm perhaps.»

«What's that?»

«It's a natural but not too well-understood phenomenon. The best comparison I can think of is a tropical storm. One theory as to their origin has to do with the beat frequencies of waves that pulse outward from Amber and from the Courts, shaping the nature of shadows. Whatever, when such a storm rises it can flow through a large number of shadows before it plays itself out. Sometimes they do a lot of damage, sometimes very little. But they often transport things in their progress.»

«Does that include people?»

«It's been known to happen.»

He finished his fixer. I did the same with mine.

«What about the Trumps?» he asked. «Could anybody learn to use them?»

«Yes.»

«How many sets are there kicking around?»

«I don't know.»

«Who makes them?»

«T'here are a number of experts in the Courts. That's where I learned. And there are Fiona and Bleys back in Amber - and I believe they were teaching Random»

«Those sorcerers you spoke of - from the adjacent kingdoms… Could any of them do up a set of Trumps?»

«Yes, but theirs would be less than perfect. It is my understanding that you have to be an initiate of either the Pattern or the Logrus to do them properly. Some of them could do a sort of half assed set, though, one you'd be taking your chances on using - maybe winding up dead or in some limbo, sometimes getting where you were headed.»

«And the set you found at Julia's place…?»

«They're the real thing.»

«How do you account for them?»

«Someone who knew how to do it taught someone else who was able to learn it, and I never heard about it. That's all.»

«I see.»

«I'm afraid none of this is too productive.»

«But I need it all to think with,» he replied. «How else can I come up with lines of inquiry? You ready for another beer?»

«Wait.» I closed my eyes and visualized an image of the Logrus shifting, ever shifting. I framed my desire and two of the swimming lines within the eidolon increased in brightness and thickness. I moved my arms, slowly, imitating their undulations, their jerkings. Finally, the lines and my arms seemed to be one, and I opened my hands and extended the lines outward, outward through Shadow.

Bill cleared his throat.

«Uh - what are you doing, Merle?»

«Looking for something,» I replied. «Just a minute.» The lines would keep extending through an infinitude of Shadow till they encountered the objects of my desire - or until I ran out of patience or concentration. Finally, I felt the jerks, like bites on a pair of fishing lines.

«There they are,» I said, and I reeled them in quickly. An icy bottle of beer appeared in each of my hands. I grasped them as they did and passed one to Bill.

«That's what I meant by the reverse of a Shadow walk,» I said, breathing deeply a few times. «I sent out to Shadow for a couple of beers. Saved you a trip to the kitchen.»

He regarded the orange label with the peculiar green script on it.

«I don't recognize the brand,» he said, «let alone the language. You sure it's safe?»

«Yes, I ordered real beer.»

«Uh - you didn't happen to pick up an opener, too; did you?»

«Oops!» I said. «Sorry. I'll -»

«That's all right.»

He got up, walked out to the kitchen, and came back a little later with an opener. When he opened the first one it foamed a bit and he had to hold it over the wastebasket till it settled. The same with the other.

«Things can get a bit agitated when you pull them in fast the way I did,» I explained. «I don't usually get my beer that way and I forgot -»

«That's okay,» Bill said, wiping his hands on his handkerchief…

He tasted his beer then.

«At least it's good beer;» he observed. «I wonder… Naw.»

«What?»

«Could you send out for a pizza?»

«What do you want on it?» I asked.

The next morning we took a long walk beside a wandering creek, which we met at the back of some farmland owned by a neighbor and client of his. We strolled slowly, Bill with a stick in his hand and a pipe in his mouth, and he continued the previous evening's questioning.

«Something you said didn't really register properly at the time,» he stated, «because I was more interested in other aspects of the situation. You say that you and Luke actually made it up to the finals for the Olympics and then dropped out?»

«Yes.»

«What area?»

«Several different track and field events. We were both runners and -»

«And his time was close to yours?»

«Damn close. And sometimes it was mine that was close to his.»

«Strange.»

«What?»

The bank grew steeper, and we crossed on some stepping stones to the other side where the way was several feet wider and relatively flat, with a well-trod path along it.

«It strikes me as more than a little coincidental,» he said, «that this guy should be about as good as you are in sports. From all I've heard, you Amberites are several times stronger than a normal human being, with a fancy metabolism giving you unusual stamina and recuperative and regenerative powers. How come Luke should be able to match you in highlevel performances?»

«He's a fine athlete and he keeps himself in good shape,» I answered. «There are other people like that here - very strong and fast.»

He shook his head as we started out along the path. «I'm not arguing that,» he said. «It's just that it seems like one coincidence too many. This guy hides his past the same way you do, and then it turns out that he really knows who you are anyhow. Tell me, is he really a big art buff?»

«Huh?»

«Art. He really cared enough about art to collect it?»

«Yes. We used to hit gallery openings and museum exhibits fairly regularly.»

He snorted, and swung his stick at a pebble, which splashed into the stream.

«Well,» he observed, «that weakens one point, but hardly destroys the pattern.»

«I don't follow…»

«It seemed odd that he also knew that crazy occultist painter. Less odd, though, when you say that the guy was good and that Luke really did collect art.»

«He didn't have to tell me that he knew Melman.»

«True. But all of this plus his physical abilities… I'm just building a circumstantial case, or course, but I feel that guy is very unusual.»

I nodded.

«I've been over it in my mind quite a few times since last night,» I said. «If he's not really from here, I don't know where the hell he's from.»

«Then we may have exhausted this line of inquiry,» Bill said, leading me around a bend and pausing to watch some birds take flight from a marshy area across the water. He glanced back in the direction from which we had come, then, «Tell me - completely off the subject - what's your, uh, rank?» he asked.

«What do you mean?»

«You're the son of a Prince of Amber. What does that make you?»

«You mean titles? I'm Duke of the Western Marches and Earl of Kolvir.»

«What does that mean?»

«It means I'm not a Prince of Amber. Nobody has to worry about me scheming, no vendettas involving the succession» `

«Hm.»

«What do you mean, ‘Hm'?»

He shrugged. «I've read too much history. Nobody's safe.»

I shrugged myself. «Last I heard, everything was peaceful on the home front.»

«Well, that's good news, anyway.»

A few more turnings brought us to a wide area of pebbles and sand, rising gently for perhaps thirty feet to the place where it met an abrupt embankment seven or eight feet in height. I could see the high water line and a number of exposed roots from trees that grew along the top. Bill seated himself on a boulder back in their shade and relit his pipe. I rested on one nearby, to his left. The water splashed and rippled in a comfortable key, and we watched it sparkle for a time.

«Nice,» I said, a bit later. «Pretty place.»

«Uh-huh.»

I glanced at him. Bill was looking back the way we'd come.

I lowered my voice. «Something there?»

«I caught a glimpse a little earlier,» he whispered, «of someone else taking a walk this way - some distance behind us. Lost sight of him in all the turnings we took.»

«Maybe I should take a stroll back.»

«Probably nothing. It's a beautiful day. A lot of people do like to hike around here. Just thought that if we waited a few minutes he'd either show up or we'd know he'd gone somewhere else.»

«Can you describe him?»

«Nope. Caught only the barest glimpse. I don't think it's anything to get excited about. It's just that thing about your story made me a little wary - or paranoid. I'm not sure which.»

I found my own pipe and packed it and lit it and we waited. For fifteen minutes or so we waited. But no one showed.

Finally, Bill rose and stretched. «False alarm,» he said. «I guess.»

He started walking again and I fell in step beside him. «Then that Jasra lady bothers me,» he said. «You say she seemed to trump in - and then she had that sting in her mouth that knocked you for a loop?»

«Right.»

«Ever encounter anyone like her before?»

«No.»

«Any guesses?» I shook my head.

«And why the Walpurgisnacht business? I can see a certain date having significance for a psycho, and I can see people in various primitive religions placing great importance on the turning of the seasons. But S seems almost too well organized to be a mental case. And as for the other -»

«Melman thought it was important.»

«Yes, but he was into that stuff. I'd be surprised if he didn't come up with such a correspondence, whether it was intended or not. He admitted that his master had never told him that that was the case. It was his own idea. But you're the one with the background in the area. Is there any special significance or any real Bower that you know of to be gained by slaying someone of your blood at this particular time of year.»

«None that I ever heard of. But of course there are a lot of things I don't know about. I'm very young compared to most of the adepts. But which way are you trying to go on this? You say you don't think it's a nut, but you don't buy the Walpurgis notion either.»

«I don't know. I'm just thinking out loud. They both sound shaky to me, that's all. For that matter, the French Foreign Legion gave everyone leave on April 30 to get drunk, and a couple of days after that to sober up. It's the anniversary of the battle of Camerone, one of their bi, triumphs. But I doubt that figures in this either.»

«And why the sphinx?» he said suddenly. «Why a Trump that takes you someplace to trade dumb riddles or get your head bitten off?»

«I'd a feeling it was more the latter that was intended.»

«I sort of think so, too. But it's certainly bizarre. You know what? I'll bet they're all that way - traps of some kind.»

«Could be.»

I put my hand in my pocket, reaching for them.

«Leave them,» he said. «Let's not look for trouble. Maybe you should ditch them, at least for a while. I could put them in my safe, down at the office.»

I laughed.

«Safes aren't all that safe. No thanks. I want them with me. There may be a way of checking them out without any risk.»

«You're the expert. But tell me, could something sneak through from the scene on the card without you.»

«No. They don't work that way. They require your attenlion to operate. More than a little of it.»

«That's something, anyway. I -»

He looked back again. Someone was coming. I flexed my fingers, involuntarily.

Then I heard him let go a big breath.

«It's okay,» he said. «I know him. It's George Hansen. He's the son of the guy who owns the farm we're behind. Hi, George!»

The approaching figure waved. He was of medium height and stocky build. Had sandy hair. He wore Levi's and a Grateful Dead T-shirt, a pack of cigarettes twisted into its left sleeve. He looked to be in his twenties.

«Hi,» he answered, drawing near. «Swell day, huh?»

«Sure is,» Bill answered. «That's why we're out walking in it, instead of sitting at home.»

George's gaze shifted to me.

«Me, too,» he said, raking his teeth over his lower lip. «Real good day»

«This is Merle Corey. He's visiting me.»

«Merle Corey,» George repeated, and he stuck out his hand. «Hi, Merle.»

I took it and shook it. It was a little clammy.

«Recognize the name?»

«Uh Merle Corey,» he said again.

«You knew his dad.»

«Yeah? Oh, sure!»

«Sam Corey,» Bill finished, and he shot me a glance over George's shoulder.

«Sam Corey,» George repeated. «Son of a gun! Good to know you. You going to be here long?»

«A few days, I guess,» I replied. «I didn't realize you'd known my father.»

«Fine man,» he said. «Where you from?»

«California, but it's time for a change.»

«Where you headed?»

«Out of the country, actually.»

«Europe?»

«Farther.»

«Sounds great. I'd like to travel sometime.»

«Maybe you will.»

«Maybe. Well, I'Il be moving on. Let you guys enjoy your walk. Nice meeting you, Merle.»

«My pleasure.»

He backed away, waved, turned, and walked off.

I glanced at Bill then and noticed that he was shaking.

«What's the matter?» I whispered.

«I've known that boy all his life,» he said. «Do you think he's on drugs?»

«Not the kind you have to make holes in your arms for. I didn't see any tracks. And he didn't seem particularly spacey.»

«Yeah, but you don't know him the way I do. He seemed very different. It was just on impulse that I used the name Sam for your dad, because something didn't seem right. His speech patterns have changed, his posture, his gait. Intangibles. I was waiting for him to correct me, and that I could have made a joke about premature senility. But he didn't. He picked up on if instead. Merle, this is scary! I knew your father real well - as Carl Corey. Your dad liked to keep his place nice, but he was never much for weeding and mowing or raking leaves. George did his yard work for him for years while he was in school. He knew his name wasn't Sam.»

«I don't understand.»

«Neither do I,» he said, «and I don't like it.»

«So he's acting weird - and you think he was following us?»

«Now I do. This is too much of a coincidence, timed with your arrival.»

I turned.

«I'm going after him,» I said. «I'll find out.»

«No. Don't.»

«I won't hurt him. There are other ways.»

«It might be better to let him think he's got us fooled. It might encourage him to do something or say something later that could prove useful. On the other hand, anything you do - even something subtle or magical - might let him, or something, know that we're on to him. Let it ride, be grateful you're warned and be wary.»

«You've got a point there,» I agreed. «Okay»

«Let's head on back and drive into town for lunch. I want to stop by the office and pick up some papers and make some phone calls. Then I have to see a client at two o'clock. You can take the car and knock around while I' m doing that.»

«Fine.» As we strolled back I did some wondering. There were a number of things I had not told Bill. For instance, there had been no reason to tell him that I wore an invisible strangling cord possessed of some rather unusual virtues, woven about my left wrist. One of these virtues is that it generally warns me of nasty intentions aimed in my direction, as it had done in Luke's presence for almost two years until we became friends. Whatever the reason for George Hansen's unusual behavior, Frakir had not given me any indication that he meant me harm.

Funny, though… there was something about the way he talked, the way he said his words…

I went for a drive after lunch while Bill took care of his business. I headed out to the place where my father had lived years ago. I'd been by it a number of times in the past, but I'd never been inside. No real reason to, I guess, anyway. I parked up the road on a rise, off on the shoulder, and regarded it. A young couple lived there now, Bill had told me, with some kids - a thing I could see for myself from some scattered toys off to the side of the yard. I wondered what it would have been like, growing up in a place like that. I supposed that I could have. The house looked well kept, sprightly even. I imagined that the people were happy there.

I wondered where he was - if he were even among the living, no one could reach him via his Trump, though that didn't necessarily prove - anything. There are a variety of ways in which a Trump sending can be blocked. In fact one of these situations was even said to apply in his case, though I didn't like to think about it.

One rumor had it that Dad had been driven mad in the Courts of Chaos by a curse placed upon him by my mother, and that he now wandered aimlessly through Shadow. She refused even to comment on this story. Another was that he had entered the universe of his own creation and never returned, which it seemed possible could remove him from the reach of the Trumps. Another was simply that he had perished at some point after his departure from the Courtsand a number of my relatives there assured me that they had seen him leave after his sojourn. So, if the rumor of his death were correct, it did not occur in the Courts of Chaos. And there were others who claimed to have seen him at widely separated sites afterward, encounters invariably involving bizarre behavior on his part. I had been told by one that he was traveling in the company of a mute dancer - a tiny, lovely lady with whom he communicated by means of sign language - and that he wasn't talking much himself either. Another reported him as roaring drunk in a raucous cantina, from which he eventually expelled all the other patrons in order to enjoy the music of the band without distraction. I could not vouch for the authenticity of any of these accounts. It had taken me a lot of searching just to come up with this handful of rumors. I could not locate him with a Logrus summoning either, though I had tried many times. But of course if he were far enough afield my powers of concentration may simply have been inadequate.

In other words, I didn't know where the hell my father, Corwin of Amber, was, and nobody else seemed to know either. I regretted this sorely, because my only long encounter with him had been on the occasion of hearing his lengthy story outside the Courts of Chaos on the day of the Patternfall battle. This had changed my life. It had given me the resolve to depart the Court, with the determination to seek experience and education in the shadow world where he had dwelled for so long. I'd felt a need to understand it if I were to understand him better. I believed that I had now achieved something of this, and more. But he was no longer available to continue our conversation.

I believed that I was about ready to attempt a new means of locating him - now that the Ghostwheel project was almost off the ground - when the most recent fecal missile met the rotating blades. Following my cross-country trip, scheduled to wind up at Bill's place a month or two from now, I was going to head off to my personal anomaly of a place and begin the work.

Now… other things had crowded in. The matters at hand would have to be dealt with before I could get on with the search.

I drove past the house slowly: I could hear the sounds of stereo music through open windows. Better not to know exactly what it was like inside. Sometimes a little mystery is best.

That evening after dinner I sat on the porch with Bill, trying to think of anything else I should run through his mind. As I kept drawing blanks, he was the first to renew our serial conversation:

«Something else,» he began. «Yes?»

«Dan Martinez struck up his conversation with you by alluding to Luke's attempts to locate investors for some sort of computer company. You later felt that the whole thing could simply have been a ploy, to get you off guard and then hit you with that question about Amber and Chaos.»

«Right.»

«But then Luke really did raise the matter of doing something along those lines. He insisted, though, that he had not been in touch with potential investors and that he had never heard of Dan Martinez. When he saw the man dead later he still maintained that he'd never met him.»

I nodded.

«Then either Luke was lying, or Martinez had somehow learned his plans.»

«I don't think Luke was lying,» I said. «In fact, I've been thinking about that whole business some more. Just knowing him as I do, I don't believe Luke would have gone around looking for investors until he was sure there was something to put the money into. I think he was telling the truth on that, too. It seems more likely to me that this might have been the only real coincidence in everything that's happened so far. I have the feeling that Martinez knew a lot about Luke and just wanted that one final piece of information - about his knowledge of Amber and the Courts. I think he was very shrewd, and on the basis of what he knew already he was able to concoct something that seemed plausible to me, knowing I'd worked for the same company as Luke.»

«I suppose it's possible,» he said. «But then when Luke really did -»

«I'm beginning to believe,» I interrupted, «that Luke story was phoney, too.»

«I don't follow you.»

«I think he put it together the same way Martinez did, and for - similar reasons - to sound plausible to me so that he could get some information he wanted.»

«You've lost me. What information?»

«My Ghostwheel. He wanted to know what it was.»

«And he was disapointed to learn that it was just an exercise in exotic design, for other reasons than building a company?»

Bill caught my smile as I nodded.

«There's more?» he said. Then: «Wait. Don't tell me. You were lying, too. It's something real.»

«Yes.»

«I probably shouldn't even ask - unless you think it's material and want to tell me. If it's something big and very important it could be gotten out of me, you know. I have a low tolerance for pain. Think about it.»

I did. I sat there for some time, musing.

«I suppose it could be,» I said finally, «in a sort of peripheral way I'm sure you're not referring to. But I don't see how it could be - as you say - material. Not to Luke or to anyone else - because nobody even knows what it is but me. No. I can't see how it enters the equation beyond Luke's curiosity about it. So i think I'll follow your suggestion and just keep it off the record.»

«Fine with me,» he said. «Then there is the matter of Luke's disappearance -»

Within the house, a telephone rang. «Excuse me,» Bill said.

He rose and went into the kitchen.

After a few moments, I heard him call, «Merle, it's for you!»

I got up and went inside. I gave him a questioning look as soon as I entered and he shrugged and shook his head. I thought fast and recalled the location of two other phones in the house. I pointed at him, pointed in the direction of his study and pantomimed the motion of picking up a receiver and holding it to one's ear. He smiled slightly and nodded. I took the receiver and waited a while, till I heard the click, only beginning to speak then, hoping the caller would think I' d picked up an extension to answer.

«Hello,» I said.

«Merle Corey?»

«That's me.»

«I need same information I think you might have.»

It was a masculine voice, sort of familiar but not quite. «Who am I talking to?» I asked.

«I'm sorry. I can't tell you that.»

«Then that will probably be my answer to your question, too.»

«Will you at least let me ask?»

«Go ahead,» I said.

«Okay. You and Luke Raynard are friends.» He paused.

«You could say that,» I said, to fill the space.

«You have heard him speak of places called Amber and the Courts of Chaos.»

Again, a statement rather than a question.

«Maybe,» I said.

«Do you know anything of these places yourself?»

Finally, a question.

«Maybe,» I said again.

«Please. This is serious. I need something mare than a maybe.»

«Sorry. `Maybe' is all you're going to get, unless you tell me who you are and why you want to know.»

«I can be of great service to you if you will be honest with me.»

I bit back a reply just in time and felt my pulse begin to race. That last statement had been spoken in Thari. I maintained my silence.

Then: «Well, that didn't work, and I still don't really know.»

«What? What don't you know?» I said.

«Whether he's from one of those places or whether you.»

«To be as blunt as possible, what's it to you?» I asked him.

«Because one of you may be in great danger.»

«The one who is from such a place or the one who is not?» I asked.

«I can't tell you that. I can't afford another mistake.»

«What do you mean? What was your last one about?»

«You won't tell me - either for purposes of self preservation, or to help a friend?»

«I might,» I said, «if I knew that that were really the case. But for all I know, it might be you that's the danger.»

«I assure you I am only trying to help the right person.»

«Words, words, words,» I said. «Supposing we were both from such places?»,

«Oh, my!» he said. «No. That couldn't be.»

«Why not?»

«Never mind. What do I have to do to persuade you?»

«Mm. Wait a minute. Let me think,» I answered. «All right. How about this? I'll meet you someplace. You name the place. I get a good look at you and we trade information, one piece at a time, till all the cards are on the table.»

There was a pause.

Then: «That's the only way you'll do it?»

«Yes.»

«Let me think about it. I'll be back in touch soon.»

«One thing -»

«. What?»

«If it is me, am I in danger right now?»

«I think so. Yes, you probably are. Good-bye.» He hung up.

I managed to sigh and swear at the same time as I recradled the phone. People who knew about us seemed to be coming out of the woodwork.

Bill came into the kitchen, a very puzzled expression on his face.

«How'd whoever-the-hell-he-is even know you're here?» were his first words.

«That was my question,» I said. «Think up another.»

«I will. If he wants to set something up, are you really going?»

«You bet. I suggested it because I want to meet this guy.»

«As you pointed out, he may be the danger.»

«'That's okay by me. He's going to be in a lot of danger,too.»

«I don't like it.»

«I'm not so happy with it myself. But it's the best offer I've had so far.»

«Well, it's your decision. It's too bad there isn't some way of locating him beforehand.»

«That passed through my mind, too.»

«Listen, why not push him a little?»

«How?»

«He sounded a little nervous, and I don't think he liked your suggestion any more than I do. Let's not be here when he calls back. Don't let him think you're just sitting around waiting for the phone to ring. Make him wait a little. Go conjure up some fresh clothes and we'll drive over to the country club for a couple of hours. It'll beat raiding the icebox.»

«Good idea,» I said. «This was supposed to be a vacation, one time. That's probably the closest I'll get. Sounds ime.» I renewed my wardrobe out of Shadow, trimmed my beard, showered, and dressed. We drove to the club then and had a leisurely meal on the terrace. It was a good evening for it, balmy and star-filled, running with moonlight like milk. By mutual consent we refrained from discussing my problems any further. Bill seemed to know almost everyone there, so it seemed a friendly place to me. It was the most relaxed evening I'd spent in a long while. Afterward we stopped for drinks in the club bar, which I gathered had been one of my dad's favorite watering spots, strains of dance music drifting through from the room next door.

«Yeah, it was a good idea,» I said. «Thanks.»

«De nada,» he said. «I had a lot of good times here with your old man. You haven't, by any chance?»

«No, no news of him.»

«Sorry.»

«I'll let you know when he turns up.»

«Sure. Sorry.»

The drive back was uneventful, and no one followed us. We got in a little after midnight, said good night, and I went straight to my room. I shrugged out of my new jacket and hung it in the closet, kicked off my new shoes and left them there, too. As I walked back into the room, I noticed the white rectangle on the pillow of my bed.

I crossed to it in two big steps and snatched it up. SORRY YOU WERE NOT IN WHEN I CALLED BACK, It said, in block capitals. BUT I SAW YOU AT THE CLUB AND CAN CERTAINLY UNDERSTAND YOUR WANTING A NIGHT OUT. IT GAVE ME AN IDEA. LET'S MEET IN THE BAR THERE, TOMORROW NIGHT, AT TEN. I'D FEEL BETTER WTTH LOTS OF PEOPLE AROUND BUT NONE OF THEM LISTENING.

Damn. My first impulse was to go and tell Bill. My first thought following the impulse, though, was that there was nothing he could do except lose some sleep over it, a thing he probably needed a lot more than I did. So I folded the note and stuck it in my shirt pocket, then hung up the shirt.

Not even a nightmare to liven my slumber. I slept deeply and well, knowing Frakir would rouse me in the event of danger. In fact, I overslept, and it felt good. The morning was sunny and birds were singing.

I made my way downstairs to the kitchen after splashing and combing myself into shape and raiding Shadow for fresh slacks and a shirt. There was a note on the kitchen table. I was tired of fording notes, but this one was from Bill, saying he'd had to run into town to his office for a while and I should go ahead and help myself to anything that looked good for breakfast. He'd be back a little later.

I checked out the refrigerator and came up with some English muffins, a piece of cantaloupe and a glass of orange juice. Some coffee I'd started first thing was ready shortly after I finished, and I took a cup with me out onto the porch.

As I sat there; I began to think that maybe I ought to leave a note of my own and move on. My mysterious correspondent - conceivably S - had phoned here once and broken in once. How S had known I was here was immaterial. It was a friend's house, and though I did not mind sharing some of my problems with friends, I did not like the idea of exposing them to danger. But then, it was daylight now and the meeting was set for this evening. Not that much longer till some sort of resolution was achieved. Almost silly to depart at this point. In fact, it was probably better that I hang around till then. I could keep an eye on things, protect Bill if anything came up today

Suddenly, I had a vision of someone forcing Bill to write that note at gunpoint, then whisking him away as a hostage to pressure me into answering questions.

I hurried back to the kitchen and phoned his office. Horace Crayper, his secretary, answered on the second ring. «Hi, this is Merle Corey,» I said. «Is Mr. Roth in?»

«Yes,» he replied, «but he's with a client right now. Could I have him call you back?»

«No, it's not that important,» I said, «and I'll be seeing him later. Don't bother him. Thanks.» I poured myself another cup of coffee and returned to the porch. This sort of thing was bad for the nerves. I decided that if everything wasn't squared away this evening I would leave.

A figure rounded the corner of the house.

«Hi, MerIe.»

It was George Hansen. Frakir gave me the tiniest of pulses, as if beginning a warning and then reconsidering it. Ambiguous. Unusual.

«Hi, George. How's it going?»

«Pretty well. Is Mr. Roth in?»

«Afraid not. He had to go into town for a while. I imagine he'll be back around lunchtime or a little after.»

«Oh. A few days ago he'd asked me to stop by when I was free, about some work he wanted done.»

He came nearer, put his foot on the step. I shook my head.

«Can't help you. He didn't mention it to me. You'll have to catch him later.»

He nodded, unwound his pack of cigarettes, shook one out and lit it, then rewound the pack in his shirt sleeves. This T-shirt was a Pink Floyd.

«How are you enjoying your stay?» he asked.

«Real well. You care for a cup of coffee?»

«Don't mind if I do.»

I rose and went inside.

«With a little cream and sugar,» he called after me.

I fixed him one and when I returned with it he was seated in the other chair on the porch.

«Thanks.» After he'd tasted it, he said, «I know your dad's name's Carl even though Mr. Roth said Sam. His memory must've slipped.»

«Or his tongue,» I said. He smiled.

What was it about the way he talked? His voice could almost be the one I'd heard on the phone last night, though that one had been very controlled and slowed just enough to neutralize any number of speech clues. It wasn't that comparison that was bothering me.

«He was a retired military officer, wasn't he? And some sort of government consultant?»

«Yes.»

«Where is he now?»

«Doing a lot of travelling - overseas.»

«You going to see him on your own trip?»

«I hope so.»

«That'll be nice,» he said, taking a drag on his cigarette and another sip of coffee. «Ah! that's good!»

«I don't remember seeing you around,» he said suddenly then. «You never lived with your dad, huh?»

«No, I grew up with my mother and other relatives.»

«Pretty far from here, huh?»

I nodded. «Overseas.»

«What was her name?»

I almost told him. I'm not certain why, but I changed it to «Dorothy» before it came out.

I glanced at him in time to see him purse his lips. He had been studying my face as I spoke.

«Why do you ask?» I said.

«No special reason. Or genetic nosiness, you might say. My mother was the town gossip.»

He laughed and gulped coffee.

«Will you be staying long?» he asked then.

«Hard to say. Probably not real long, though.»

«Well, I hope you have a good time of it.» He finished his coffee and set the cup on the railing. He rose then, stretched and added, «Nice talking to you.»

Partway down the stairs he paused and turned.

«I've a feeling you'll go far,» he told me. «Good luck.»

«You may, too,» I said. «You've a way with words.»

«Thanks for the coffee. See you around.»

«Yes.» He turned the corner and was gone. I simply didn't know what to make of him, and after several attempts I gave up. When inspiration is silent reason tires quickly.

I was making myself a sandwich when Bill returned, so I made two. He went and changed clothes while I was doing this.

«I'm supposedly taking it easy this month,» he said while we were eating, «but that was an old client with some pressing business, so I had to go in. What say we follow the creek in the other direction this afternoon?»

«Sure.» As we hiked across the field I told him of George's visit.

«No,» he said, «I didn't tell him I had any jobs for him.»

«In other words -»

«I guess he came by to see you. It would have been easy enough to see me leave, from their place.»

«I wish I knew what he wanted.»

«If it's important enough he'll probably wind up asking you, in time.»

«But time is running,» I said. «I've decided to leave tomorrow morning, maybe even tonight.»

As we made our way down the creek, I told him of last night's note and this evening's rendezvous. I also told him my feelings about exposing him to stray shots, or intended ones.

«It may not be that serious,» he began.

«My mind's made up, Bill. I hate to cut things short when I haven't seen you for so long, but I hadn't counted on all this trouble. And if I go away you know that it will, too.

«Probably so, but…»

We continued in this vein for a while as we followed the watercourse. Then we finally dropped the matter as settled and returned to a fruitless rehashing of my puzzles. As we walked I looked back occasionally but did not see anyone behind us. I did hear a few sounds within the brush on the opposite bank at infrequent intervals, but it could easily have been an animal disturbed by our voices.

We had hiked for over an hour when I had the premonitory feeling that someone was picking up my Trump. I froze.

Bill halted and turned toward me.

«What -»

I raised my hand.

«Long distance call,» I said.

A moment later I felt the first movement of contact. I also heard the noise in the bushes again, across the water.

«Merlin.»

It was Random's voice, calling to me. A few seconds later I saw him, seated at a desk in the library of Amber.

«Yes?» I answered.

The image came into solidity, assumed full reality, as if I were looking through an archway into an adjacent room. At the same time, I still possessed my vision of the rest of my surroundings, though it was growing more and more peripheral by the moment. For example, I saw Gearge Hansen start up from among the bushes across the creek, staring at me.

«I want you back in Amber right away,» Random stated. George began to move forward, splashing down into the water.

Random raised his hand, extended it. «Come on through,» he said.

By now my outline must have begun shimmering, and I heard George cry out, «Stop! Wait! I have to come with -»

I reached out and grasped Bill's shoulder.

«I can't leave you with this nut,» I said. «Come on!» With my other hand I clasped Random's.

«Okay,» I said, moving forward. «Stop!» George cried.

«The hell you say,» I replied, and we left him to clasp a rainbow.

Chapter 7

Random looked startled as the two of us came through into the library. He rose to his feet, which still left him shorter than either of us, and he shifted his attention to Bill.

«Merlin, who's this?» he asked.

«Your attorney, Bill Roth,» I said. «You've always dealt with him through agents in the past. I thought you might like to -»

Bill began dropping to one knee, «Your Majesty,» on his lips, but Random caught him by the shoulders.

«Cut the crap,» he said. «We're not in Court.» He clasped his hand, then said, «Call me Random. I've always intended to thank you personally for the work you did on that treaty. Never got around to it, though. Good to meet you.»

I'd never seen Bill at a loss for words before, but he just stared, at Random, at the room, out of the window at a distant tower.

Finally, «It's real…» I heard him whisper moments later.

«Did I not see someone springing toward you?» Random said to me, running a hand through his unruly brown hair. «And surely your last words back there were not addressed to me?»

«We were having a little problem,» I answered. «That's the real reason I brought Bill along. You see, someone's been trying to kill me, and -»

Random raised his hand. «Spare me the details for the moment. I'll need them all later, but - but let it be later. There is more nastiness than usual afoot at the moment, and yours may well be a part of it. But I've got to breathe a bit.»

It was only then that some deepened lines in his naturally youthful face registered and I began to realize that he was under a strain.

«What's the matter?» I asked.

«Caine is dead. Murdered,» he replied. «This morning.»

«How did it happen?»

«He was off in Shadow Deiga - a distant port with which we have commerce. He was with Gerard, to renegotiate an old trade agreement. He was shot, through the heart. Died instantly.»

«Did they catch the bowman?»

«Bowman, hell! It was a rifleman, on a rooftop. And he got away.»

«I thought gunpowder didn't work around here.» He made a quick palms up gesture.

«Deiga may be far enough off in Shadow for it to work. Nobody here can remember ever testing any there. For that matter, though, your father once came up with a compound that worked here.»

«True. I'd almost forgotten.»

«Anyway, the funeral is tomorrow -»

«Bill! Merlin!»

My aunt Flora - who had turned down Rossetti's offers, one of them being to model for him - had entered the room. Tall, slim and burnished, she hurried forward and kissed Bill on the cheek. I had never seen him blush before. She repeated the act for me, too, but I was less moved, recalling that she had once been my father's warden.

«When did you get in?» Her voice was lovely, too.

«Just now,» I said.

She immediately linked arms with both of us and attempted to lead us off.

«We have so much to talk about,» she began.

«Flora!» This from Random.

«Yes, brother?»

«You may give Mr. Roth the full tour, but I require Merlin's presence for a time.»

She pouted slightly for a moment, then released my arm. «Now you know what an absolute monarchy is,» she explained to Bill. «You can see how power corrupts.»

«I was corrupt before I had power,» Random said, «and rich is better. You have my leave to depart, sister.»

She sniffed and led Bill away.

«It's always quieter around here when she fords a boyfriend off somewhere in Shadow,» Random observed. «Unfortunately, she's been home for the better part of a year this time.»

I made a tsking sound.

He gestured toward a chair and I took it. He crossed to a cabinet then.

«Wine?» he asked.

«Don't mind if I do.»

He poured two glasses, brought me one, and seated himself in a chair to my left, a small table between us. «Someone also took a shot at Bleys,» he said, «this afternoon, in another shadow. Hit him, too, but not bad. Gunman got away Bleys was just on a diplomatic mission to a friendly kingdom.»

«Same person, you think?»

«Sure. We've never had rifle sniping in the neighborhood before. Then two, all of a sudden? It must be the same person. Or the same conspiracy.»

«Any clues?»

He shook his head and tasted the wine.

«I wanted to talk to you alone,» he said then, «before any of the others got to you. There are two things I'd like you to know.»

I sipped the wine and waited.

«The first is that this really scares me. With the attempt on Bleys it no longer appears to have been simply a personal thing directed at Caine. Somebody seems to have it in for us - or at least some of us. Now you say there's someone after you, too.»

«I don't know whether there's any connection -»

«Well, neither do I. But I don't like the possible pattern I see developing. My worst fear is that it may be one or more of us behind it.»

«Why?» He glowered into his goblet.

«For centuries the personal vendetta has been our way of settling disagreements, not necessarily proceeding inevitably to death - though that was always a possibility - but certainly characterized by intrigues, to the end of embarrassing, disadvantaging, maiming, or exiling the other and enhancing one's own position. This reached its latest peak in the scramble for the succession. I thought everything was pretty much settled, though, when I wound up with the job, which I certainly wasn't looking for. I had no real axes to grind, and I've tried to be fair. I know how touchy everyone here is. I don't think it's me, though, and I don't think it's the succession. I haven't had any bad vibes from any of the others. I'd gotten the impression they had decided I was the lesser of all possible evils and were actually cooperating to make it work. No, I don't believe any of the others is rash enough to want my crown. There was actually amity, goodwill, after the succession was settled. But what I'm wondering now is whether the old pattern might be recurring - that some of the others might have taken up the old game again to settle personal grievances. I really don't want to see that happen - all the suspicion, precautions, innuendoes, mistrust, double dealings. It weakens us, and there's always some possible threat ar other against which we should be strong. Now, I've spoken with everyone privately, and of course they all deny any knowledge of current cabals, intrigues, and vendettas, but I could see that they're getting suspicious of each other. It's become a habit of thought. And it wasn't at all difficult for them to dig up some of grudge each of the others might still have had against Caine despite the fact that he saved all our asses by taking out Brand. And the same with Bieys - everyone could fins motives for everyone else.»

«So you want the killer fast, because of what he's done to morals»

«Certainly. I don't need all this backbiting and grudgehunting. It's all still so close to the surface that we're likely to have real cabals, intrigues, and vendettas before long, if we don't already, and some little misunderstanding could lead to violence again.»

«Do you think it's one of the others?»

«Shit! I'm the same as they are. I get suspicious by reflex. It well may be, but I haven't really seen a bit of evidence.»

«Who else could it be?»

He uncrossed and recrossed his legs. He took another drink of wine.

«Hell! Our enemies are legion. But most of them wouldn't have the guts. They all know the kind of reprisal they could expect once we found them out.»

He clasped his hands behind his head and stared at the rows of books.

«I don't know how to say this,» he began after a time, «but I have to.»

I waited again. Then he said quickly, «There's talk it's Corwin, but I don't believe it.»

«No,» I said softly.

«I told you I don't believe it. Your father means a lot to me.»

«Why would anybody believe it?»

«There's a rumor he's gone crazy. You've heard it. What if he's reverted to some past state of mind, from the days when his relations with Came and Bleys were a lot less than cordial - or with any of us, for that matter? That's what they're saying.»

«I don't believe it.»

«I just wanted you to be aware that it's being kicked around.»

«Nobody'd better kick it in my direction.»

He sigh. «Don't you start. Please. They're upset. Don't look for trouble.»

I took a drink of wine. «Yes, you're right,» I said.

«Now I have to listen to your story. Go ahead, complicate my life some more.»

«Okay. At least I'm fresh on it,» I told him.

So I ran through it again. It took a long while, and it was getting dark by the time I finished. He had interrupted me only for occasional clarifications and had not indulged in the exploration of contingencies the way Bill had when he'd heard it.

When I had finished, he rose and lit a few oil lamps. I could almost hear him thinking.

Finally he said, «No, you've got me on Luke. He doesn't ring any bells at all. The lady with the sting bothers me a bit, though. It seems I might have heard something about people like that, but I can't recall the circumstances. It'll come to me. I want to know more about this Ghostwheel project of yours, though. Something about it troubles me.»

«Sure,» I said. «But there is something else I am reminded to tell you first.»

«What's that?»

«I covered everything for you pretty much the way I did when I was talking to Bill. In fact, my just having been through it recently made me almost use it like a rehearsal. But there was something I didn't mention to Bill because it didn't seem important at the time. I might even have forgotten it entirely in the light of everything else, till this business about the sniper came up - and then you reminded me that Corwin once developed a substitute for gunpowder that will work here.»

«Everybody remembered it, believe me.»

«I forgot about two rounds of ammunition I have in my pocket that came from the ruins of that warehouse where Melman had his studio.»

«So -»

«They don't contain gunpowder. There's some kind of pink stuff in them instead-and it won't even burn. At least back on that shadow Earth…»

I dug one out.

«Looks like a 30,» he said.

«I guess so.»

Random rose and drew upon a braided cord that hung beside one of the bookshelves.

By the time he'd returned to his seat there was a knock on the door.

«Come in,» he called.

A liveried servant entered, a young blond fellow.

«That was quick,» Random said.

The man looked puzzled.

«Your Majesty, I do not understand…»

«What's to understand? I rang. You came.»

«Sire, I was not on duty in the quarters. I was sent to tell you that dinner is ready to be served, awaiting your pleasure.»

«Oh. Tell them I'll be along shortly. As soon as I've spoken with the person I've called.»

«Very good, Sire.»

The man departed backward with a quick bow.

«I thought that was too good to be true;» Random muttered.

A little later another guy appeared, older and less elegantly garbed.

«Rolf, would you run down to the armory and talk to whoever's on duty?» Random said. «Ask him to go through that collection of rifles we have from the time Corwin came to Kolvir with them, the day Eric died. See if he can dig up a 30-30 for me, in good shape. Have him clean it and send it up. We're going down to dinner now. You can just leave the weapon in the corner over there.»

«30-30, Sire?»

«Right.»

Rolf departed, Random rose and stretched. He pocketed the round I' d given him and gestured toward the door. «Let's go eat.»

«Good idea.»

There were eight of us at dinner: Random, Gerard, Flora, Bill; Martin - who had been called back a little earlier in the day, Julian - who had just arrived from Arden, Fiona - who had also just come in, from some distant locale, and myself. Benedict was due in the morning, and Llewella later this evening.

I sat to Random's left, Martin to his right. I hadn't seen Martin in a long while and was curious what he'd been about. But the atmosphere was not conducive to conversation. As soon as anyone spoke everyone else evinced unusually acute attention - ar beyond the dictates of simple politeness. I found it rather unnerving, and I guess Random did, too, because he sent for Droppa MaPantz, the court jester, to fill the heavy silences.

Droppa had a rough time at first. He began by juggling some food, eating it as it moved by until it was gone, wiped his mouth on a borrowed napkin, then insulted each of us in turn. After that, he commenced a stand-up routine I found very funny.

Bill, who was at my left, commented softly, «I know enough Thari to catch most of it, and that's a George Carlin shtick! How -»

«Oh, whenever Droppa's stuff starts sounding stale, Random sends him off to various clubs in Shadow,» I explained, «to pick up new material. I understand he's a regular at Vegas. Random even accompanies him sometimes, to play cards.»

He did start getting laughs after a while which loosened things up a bit. When he knocked off for a drink it became possible to talk without being the center of attention, as separate conversations had sprung up. As soon as this happened, a massive arm passed behind Bill and fell upon my shoulder. Gerard was leaning back in his chair and sideward toward me.

«Merlin,» he said, «good to see you again. Listen, when you get a chance I'd like to have a little talk with you in private.»

«Sure,» I said, «but Random and I have to take care of something after dinner.»

«When you get a chance,» he repeated. I nodded.

A few moments later I had the feeling that someone was trying to reach me via my Trump.

«Merlin!»

It was Fiona. But she was just sitting at the other end of the table…

Her image came clear, however, and I answered her, «Yes?» and then I glanced down the table and saw that she was staring into her handkerchief. She looked up at me then, smiled, and nodded.

I still retained the mental image of her, simultaneously, and I heard it say, «I dislike raising my voice, for a number of reasons. I'm certain that you will be rushed off after dinner, and I just wanted to let you know that we ought to take a walk, or row out on one of the ponds, or Trump out to Cabra or go look at the Pattern together sometime soon. You understand?»

«I understand,» I said. «I'll be in touch.»

«Excellent.»

The contact was broken then, and when I glanced her way she was folding her handkerchief and studying her plate.

Random did not linger, but rose quickly after he had finished his dessert, bidding the others a good night and gesturing for Martin and me to accompany him as he departed.

Julian brushed by me on the way out, trying to look somewhat less than sinister and almost succeeding.

«We must go riding together in Arden,» he said, «soon.»

«Good idea,» I told him. «I'll be in touch.»

We departed the dining room. Flora caught me in the hall. She still had Bill in tow.

«Stop by my room for a nightcap,» she said, «before you turn in. Or come by for tea tomorrow.»

«Thank you,» I said. «We'll get together. It all depends on how things run, as to just when.»

She nodded and hit me with the smile that had caused numerous duels and Balkan crises in the past. Then she moved on and we did too.

As we mounted the stair on the way to the library, Random asked, «Is that everyone?»

«What do you mean?» I said.

«Have they all set up assignations with you by now?»

«Well, they're all tentative things, but yes.»

«He laughed. «Didn't think they'd waste any time. You'll get everybody's pet suspicions that way might as well collect them. Some might come in handy later. They're probably all looking for allies, too - and you should seem a pretty safe choice.»

«I do want to visit with all of them. It's just a shame it has to be this way.»

He gestured as we came to the top of the stairs. We turned up the hallway and headed toward the library.

«Where are we going?» Martin asked.

Although he resembled Random, Martin looked a little less sneaky, and he was taller. Still, he was not a really big.

«To pick up a rifle,» Random said.

«Oh? Why?»

«I want to test some ammo Merlin brought back. If it actually fires, our lives have just acquired an additional complication.»

We entered the library. The oil lamps were still burning.

The rifle was standing in a corner. Random went to it, dug the shell out of his pocket, and loaded it.

«Okay. What should we try it on?» he mused.

He stepped back out into the hall and looked around.

«Ah! Just the thing!«

He shouldered it, aimed at a suit of armor up the hall, and squeezed the trigger. There followed a sharp report and the ringing of metal. The armor shook.

«Holy shit!» Random said. «It worked! Why me, Unicorn? I was looking for a peaceful reign.»

«May I try it, father,» Martin asked. «I've always wanted to.»

«Why not?» Random said. «You still got that other round, Merlin?»

«Yes,» I said, and I rummaged about in my pocket and brought out two. I passed them to Random. «One of these shouldn't work, anyway,» I said. «It just got mixed in with the other two.»

«All right.»

Random accepted both, loaded one: He passed the weapon to Martin then and began explaining its operation. In the distance I heard the sounds of alarm.

«We're about to have the entire palace guard descend upon us,» I observed.

«Good,» Random answered, as Martin raised the piece to his shoulder. «A little realistic drill every now and then never hurts.»,

The rifle roared and the armor rang a second time. Martin looked startled and quickly passed the weapon back to Random. Random glanced at the shell in his hand, said, «What the hell!», loaded the final round and fired without sighting.

There was a third report, followed by sounds of a ricochet, just as the guard reached the top of the stair.

«I guess I just don't live right,» Random remarked. After Random had thanked the guard for their prompt response to a training exercise and I overheard a mutter about the king being in his cups, we returned to the library and he asked me the question.

«I found the third one in the pocket of Luke's field jacket,» I answered, and I proceeded to explain the circumstances.

«I can no longer afford not to know about Luke Raynard,» he finally said. «Tell me how you read what just happened.»

«The building that burned down,» I began. «Upstairs was Melman who wanted to sacrifice me. Downstairs was the Brutes Storage Company. Brutus apparently was storing ammo of this sort. Luke admitted that he knew Melman. I had no idea that there might be some connection with Brutes and the ammunition, also. The fact that they were located in the same building is too much, though.»

«If they're turning it out in such quantities that it requires warehousing, then we're in big trouble,» Random said. «I want to know who owned that building - and who owned the company, if it's a different person.»

«It shouldn't be too difficult to check.»

«Who should I send to do it?» he mused. Then he snapped his forgers and smiled. «Flora is about to undertake an important mission for the Crown.»

«Inspired,» I said.

Martin smiled at that and then shook his head. «I'm afraid I don't understand what's going on,» he told us, «and I want to.»

«Tell you what,» Random said. «You fill him in while I go give Flora her assignment. She can leave right after the funeral.»

«Yes,» I said as he departed, and I began telling my tale once again, editing for brevity.

Martin had no fresh insights and no new information, not that I had expected any of him. He had spent the past few years off in a more pastoral setting, I learned. I got the impression that he was more fond of the countryside than of cities.

«Merlin,» he said. «You should have brought this whole mess home to Amber sooner. We're all affected.»

And what of the Courts of Chaos? I wondered. Would rifle have fired there? Still, it had been Caine and Bleys who had been targets. No one had summoned me back to the Courts to brief me on any incidents. Still… perhaps I ought to bring my other relatives aboard at some point.

«But up until a few days ago matters were a lot simpler,» I told Martin, «and then when things began developing fast I was too caught up in them.»

«But all those years… those attempts on your life.»

I said, «I don't call home whenever I stub my toe. Nobody else does either. I couldn't see any connection, all that time.»

But I knew that he was right and I was wrong. Fortunately, Random returned about then.

«I couldn't quite get her to believe it was an honor,» he said, «but she'll do it.»

We talked for a while then about more general matters, mostly what we had been doing for the past several years. I recalled Random's curiosity about Ghostwheel and mentioned the project to him. He changed the subject immediately, giving the impression he wanted to save it for a fully private conversation. After a time, Martin began to yawn and it was contagious. Random decided to bid us good night and rang for a servant to show me to my room.

I asked Dik, who had led me to my quarters, to find me some drawing materials. It took him about ten minutes to turn up everything that I needed.

It would have been a long, difficult walk back and I was tired. So I seated myself beside a table and commenced the construction of a Trump for the bar at the country club Bill had taken me to the previous evening. I worked for perhaps twenty minutes before I was satisfied.

Now it was just a matter of time differential, a thing that was subject to variation, the 2.5-to-1 ratio being only a rule of thumb between Amber and the shadow I had recently inhabited. It was quite possible that I had missed my rendezvous with the nameless housebreaker.

I set everything aside except for the Trump. I rose to my feet.

There came a knock on my door. I was tempted not to answer it, but my curiosity won out. I crossed the room, unbolted the door, and opened it.

Fiona stood there, her hair down for a change. She had on an attractive green evening dress and a small jeweled pin that matched her hair perfectly.

«Hello, Fi,» I said. «What brings you around?»

«I felt you working with certain forces,» she answered, «and I didn't want anything happening to you before we had our talk. May I come in?»

«Of course,» I said, stepping aside. «But I am in a hurry.»

«I know, but perhaps I can be of help.»

«How?» I asked, closing the door.

She looked about the room and spotted the Trump I'd just finished. She shot the bolt on the door and crossed to the table.

«Very nice,» she observed, studying my handiwork. «So that's where you're headed? Where is it?»

«The bar at a country club in the place I just came from,» I replied. «I'm supposed to meet an unknown party there at ten, local time. Hopefully, I will obtain information as to who has been trying to kill me, and why, and possibly even learn something of other matters that have been troubling me.»

«Go,» she said, «and leave the Trump behind. That way, I can use it to spy, and if you should suddenly need help I will be in a position to provide it.»

I reached out and squeezed her hand. Then I took up a position beside the table and focused my attention.

After several moments, the scene took on depth and color. I sank into the emerging textures, and everything advanced toward me, growing larger, crowding out my immediate surroundings. My gaze sought the wall cloak I remembered; to the right of the bar…

9:48

I couldn't have cut things much closer.

I could see the patrons now, hear the sounds of their voices. I looked for the best point of arrival. Actually, there was no one at the right end of the bar, near that clock. Okay…

I was there. Trying to look as if - had been, all along. Three of the patrons snapped glances in my direction. I smiled and nodded. Bill had introduced me to one of the men the previous evening. The other I had seen, but not spoken with at that time. Both of them returned my nod, which seemed to satisfy the third that I was real, as he immediately turned his attention back to the woman he was with.

Shortly, the bartender came up to me. He recalled me from last night, also, because he asked whether Bill was around.

I had a beer from him and retired with it to the most secluded table, where I sat and nursed it, my back to the wall, glancing occasionally at the clock, watching the room's two entrances between times. If I tried I could feel Fiona's presence.

Ten o'clock came and went. So did a few patrons, new and old. None of them seemed particularly interested in me, though my own attention was drawn to an unescorted young lady with pale hair and a cameolike profile, which ends the resemblance because cameos don't smile much and she did the second time she glanced at me, right before she looked away. Damn, I thought, why did I have to be wrapped up in a life-and-death situation? Under almost any other circumstances I would have finished the beer, walked over for another, passed a few pleasantries, then asked her whether she'd care to join me. In fact…

I glanced at the clock.

How much longer should I give the mystery voice? Should I just assume it had been George Hensen, and that he'd given up on tonight when he'd seen me fade? How much longer might the lady hang around?

I growled softly. Stick to business. I studied the narrowness of her waist, the swell of her hips, the tension of her shoulders…

I noticed that my mug was empty. I took it over for a refill. Dutifully, I watched the progress of the mug.

«I saw you sitting there,» I heard her say. «Waiting for someone?»

She smelled strongly of a strange perfume.

«Yes,» I said. «But I'm beginning to think it's too late.»

«I've a similar problem,» she said, and I turned toward her. She was smiling again. «We could wait together,» she concluded.

«Please join me,» I said. «I'd much rather pass the time with you.»

She picked up her drink and followed me back to the table.

«My name's Merle Corey,» I told her, as soon as we were seated:

«I'm Meg Devlin. I haven't seen you around before.» '

«I'm just visiting. You, I take it, are not?»

She shook her head slightly.

«Afraid not. I live in the new apartment complex a couple of miles - up the road.»

I nodded as if I knew where it was located.

«Where are you from?» she wanted to know.

«The center of the universe,» I said, then hastily added, «San Francisco.»

«Oh, I've spent a lot of time there. What do you do?» I resisted a sudden impulse to tell her that I was a sorcerer, and instead described my recent employment at Grand Design. She, I learned in turn, had been a model, a buyer for a large store, and later manager of a boutique. I glanced at the clock.

It was 10:45. She caught the look.

«I think we've both been stood up,» she said.

«Probably,» I agreed, «but we ought to give them till eleven to be decent about it.»

«I suppose.»

«Have you eaten?»

«Earlier.»

«Hungry?»

«Some. Yes. Are you?»

«Uh-huh, and I noticed some people had food in here earlier. I'll check.»

I learned we could get sandwiches, so we got two, with some salad on the side.

«I hope your date didn't include a late supper,» I said suddenly.

«It wasn't mentioned, and I don't care,» she replied, taking a bite.

Eleven o'clock came and went. I'd finished my drink and the food, and I didn't really want another.

«At least the evening wasn't a total loss,» she said, crumpling her napkin and setting it aside.

I watched her eyelashes because it was a pleasant thing to do. She wore very little or very pale makeup. It didn't matter at all. I was about to reach out and cover her hand with my own, but she beat me.

«What were you going to do tonight?» I asked her.

«Oh, dance a bit, have a few drinks, maybe take a walk in the moonlight. Silly things like that.»

«I hear music in the next room. We could stroll on over.»

«Yes, we could,» she said. «Why don't we?»

As we were leaving the bar, I heard Fiona, like a whisper:

«Merlin! If you leave the scene on the Trump you will be out of range to me.»

«Hold on a minute,» I answered.

«What?» Meg asked me.

«Uh - I want to visit the rest room first,» I said.

«Good idea. I'll do the same. Meet you in the hall here in a couple of minutes.»

The place was vacant, but I took a stall in case anyone wandered in. I located Fiona's Trump in the packet I corned. Moments later, I reached Fiona.

«Listen, Fi,» I said. «Obviously, no one's going to show. But the rest of the evening promises to shape up nicely, and I might as well have a little fun while I'm here. So thanks for your help. I'll just wander on back later.»

«I don't know,» she said. «I don't tike you going with a stranger, under the circumstances. There may still be danger around there for you, somewhere.».

«There isn't,» I replied. «I have a way of knowing, and it doesn't register for her. Besides, I'm sure it was a fellow I'd met here and that he gave up when I trumped out. I'll be all right.»

«I don't like it,» she said.,

«I'm a big boy. I can take care of myself.»,

«I suppose so. Call me immediately if there are any problems.»

«There won't be. You might as well turn in.»

«And call when you're ready to come back. Don't worry about waking me. I want to bring you home personally.»

«Okay, I'll do that. Good night.»

«Stay wary.»

«I always am.»

«Good night, then.»

She broke the contact.

A few minutes later we were on the dance floor, turning and listening and touching. Meg had a strong tendency to lead. But what the hell, I can be led. I even tried being wary occasionally but there was nothing more threatening than loud music and sudden laughter.

At eleven-thirty we checked the bar. There were several couples there, but her date wasn't. And no one even gave me a nod. We returned to the music.

We looked again a little after midnight with similar results. We seated ourselves then and ordered a final drink.

«Well, it was fun,» she said, resting her hand where I could cover it with my own. So I did.

«Yes,» I replied. «I wish we could do it more often. But I'm going to be leaving tomorrow.»

«Where are you headed?»

«Back to the center of the universe.»

«A pity,» she said. «Do you need a ride anywhere?»

I nodded. «Anywhere you're going.»

She smiled and squeezed my hand.

«All right,» she agreed. «Come on over and I'll make you a cup of coffee.»

We finished our drinks and headed out to the parking lot, pausing a few times to embrace along the way. I even tried being wary again, but we seemed to be the only people in the lot. Her car was a neat little red Porsche convertible with the top down.

«Here we are. You care to drive?» she asked.

«No, you do it and I'll watch for headless horsemen.»

«What?»

«It's a lovely night, and I've always wanted a chauffeur who looked exactly like you.»

We got in and she drove. Fast, of course. It just seemed to follow. The roads were deserted and a feeling of exhilaration swept over me. I raised one hand and summoned a lighted cigar from Shadow. I took a few puffs and tossed it away as we roared over a bridge. I regarded the constellations, which had grown familiar to me these past eight years. I drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. I tried to analyze my feelings and realized that I was happy. I hadn't felt that way in a long while.

A mess of light occurred beyond a fringe of trees up ahead. A minute later we rounded a curve and I saw that it came from a small apartment complex off to the right. She slowed and turned there when we reached it.

She parked in a numbered slot, from whence we made our way along a shrub-lined walk to the building's entrance. She let us in and we crossed the lobby to the elevators. The ride up was over too soon, and once we reached her apartment she really did make coffee.

Which was fine with me. It was good coffee, and we sat together and sipped it. Plenty of time…

One thing finally did lead to another. We found ourselves in the bedroom a bit later, our clothes on a nearby chair, and I was congratulating myself that the meeting for which I had returned had not come off. She was smooth and soft and warm, and there was just enough of her in all the right places. A vise in velvet, with honey… the scent of her perfume…

We lay there, much later, in that peaceful state of temporary fatigue on which I will not waste metaphors. I was stroking her hair when she stretched, turned her head slightly, and regarded me through half-lidded eyes.

«Tell me something,» she said. «Sure.»

«What was your mother's name?»

I felt as if something prickly had just been rolled along my spine. But I wanted to see where this was leading. «Dara,» I told her.

«And your father?»

«Corwin.»

She smiled.

«I thought so,» she said, «but I had to be sure.»

«Do I get some questions now? Or can only one play?»

«I'll save you the trouble. You want to know why I asked.»

«You're on the ball.»

«Sorry,» she said, moving her leg.

«I take it their names mean something to you?»

«You are Merlin,» she stated, «Duke of Kolvir and Prince of Chaos.»

«Damn!» I observed. «It seems everybody in this shadow knows who I am! Do you all belong to a club or something?»

«Who else knows?» she asked quickly, her eyes suddenly wide.

«A fellow named Luke Raynard, a dead man named Dan Martinez; a local man named George Hansen, probably, and another dead man named Victor Melman… Why? These names ring any bells?»

«Yes, the dangerous one is Luke Raynard. I brought you here to warn you about him, if you were the right one.»

«What do you mean `the right one'?»

«If you were who you are - the son of Dara.»

«So warn me.»

«I just did: Don't trust him.»

I sat up and propped a pillow behind me.

«What's he after? My stamp collection? My traveler's checks? Could you be a little more specific?»

«He tried several times to kill you, years ago -»

«What? How?»

«The first time it involved a truck that almost ran you down. Then the next year -»

«Gods! You really do know! Give me the dates, the dates he tried it.»

«April 30, always April 30.»

«Why? Do you know why?»

«No.»

«Shit. How do you know all of this?»

«I was around. I was watching.»

«Why didn't you do something about it?»

«I couldn't. I didn't know which of you was which.»

«Lady, you've lost me completely. Who the hell are you, and what's your part in this?»

«Like Luke, I am not what I seem,» she began.

There came a sharp buzzing around firom the next room.

«Oh my!» she said and sprang out of bed.

I followed her, arriving in the foyer as she pushed a button beside a small grating and said, «Hello?»

«Honey, it's me,» came the reply. «I got home a day early. Buzz me in, will you? I'm carrying a bunch of packages.»

Oh-oh.

She released the one button and pushed another, turning toward me as she did so.

«The husband,» she said, suddenly breathless. «You've got to leave now. Please! Take the steps!»

«But you haven't told me anything yet!»

«I've told you enough. Please don't make trouble!»

«Okay,» I said, hurrying back to the bedroom, pulling on my pants and slipping my feet into my loafers.

I stuffed my socks and underwear into my hip pockets drew on my shirt.

«I'm not satisfied,» I said. «You know more and I want it.»

«Is that all you want?»

I kissed her cheek quickly.

«Not really. I'll be back,» I said.

«Don't,» she told me. «It won't be the same. We shall meet again, when the time is right.»

I headed for the door.

«That's not good enough,» I said as I opened it.

«It will have to be.»

«We'll see.»

I tore off up the hall and pushed open the door beneath the EXIT sign. I buttoned my shirt and tucked it in on my way down the steps. I paused at the bottom to draw on my socks. I ran a hand through my hair then and opened the door to the lobby.

No one in sight. Good.

As I left the building and headed down the walk a black sedan pulled up in front of me and I heard the hum of a power window and saw a flash of red.

«Get in, Merlin,» came a familiar voice.

«Fiona!»

I opened the door and slid inside. We began moving immediately,

«Well, was she?» she asked me.

«Was she what?» I said.

«The one you went to the club to meet.»

I hadn't thought of it that way until she said it.

«You know,» I said a little later. «I think maybe she was.»

She turned onto the road and drove back in the direction from which we had come earlier.

«What kind of game was she playing?» Fiona asked.

«I'd give a lot to know,» I answered.

«Tell me about it,» she said, «and feel free to edit certain portions.»

«Well, all right,» I said, and I let her have it.

We were back in the country club parking lot before I was finished.

«Why are we here again?» I asked:

«This is where I got the car. It might belong to a friend of Bill's. I thought I'd be nice and bring it back.»

«You used the Trump I'd made to go through to the bar in there?» I asked, gesturing.

«Yes, right after you went in to dance. I watched you for about an hour, mostly from the terrace. And I'd told you to be wary.»

«Sorry, I was smitten.»

«I'd forgotten they don't serve absinthe here. I had to make do with a frozen marguerite.»

«Sorry about that, too. Then you hot-wired a car and followed us when we left?»

«Yes. I waited in her parking lot and maintained the most peripheral of touches with you via your Trump. If I'd felt danger I would have come in after you.»

«Thanks. How peripheral?»

«I am not a voyeur, if that's what you mean. Very well, we're up to date.»

«There's a lot more to the story than this fast part.»

«Keep it,» she said, «for now. There is only one thing I am curious about at the moment. Would you happen to have a picture of this Luke Raynard?»

«I might,» I told her, reaching for my wallet. «Yes; I think I do.»

I withdrew my shorts from my hip pocket and explored further.

«At least you don't wear jockeys,» she remarked:

I withdrew my wallet and turned on the overhead light. As I flipped the wallet open she leaned toward me, resting her hand on my arm. Finally, I found a clear colored photo of Luke and me at the beach, with Julia and a girl named Gail whom Luke used to date.

I felt her grip tighten as she drew in a short, sharp breath.

«What is it?» I asked. «You know him?»

She shook her head too quickly.

«No. No,» she said. «Never saw him before in my life.»

«You're a lousy liar, Auntie. Who is it?»

«I don't know,» she said.

«Come on! You nearly broke my arm when you saw him.

«Don't push me;» she said.

«It involves my life.»

«It involves more than your life, I think.»

«So?»

«Let it be, for now.»

«I'm afraid I can't do that. I must insist.»

She turned more fully and both of her hands came up between us. Smoke began to rise from her well-manicured fingertips. Frakir throbbed upon my wrist, which meant she was sufficiently pissed off to lean on me if it came to that.

I made a warding gesture and decided to back off.

«Okay, let's call it a day and head home.»

She flexed her fingers and the smoke fled. Frakir became still. She withdrew a packet of Trumps from her purse and shuffled out the one for Amber.

«But sooner or later I'm going to have to know,» I added.

«Later,» she said, as the vision of Amber grew before us.

One thing I always liked about Fiona: she didn't believe in hiding her feelings.

I reached up and switched off the dome light as Amber came on all around us.

Chapter 8

I guess that my thoughts at funerals are typical. Like Bloom in Ulysses, I think the most mundane things about the deceased and the current goings-on. The rest of the time my mind wanders.

On the wide strand of shoreline at the southern foot of Kolvir there is a small chapel dedicated to the Unicorn, one of several such throughout the realm at places where she had been sighted. This one seemed most appropriate for Caine's service in that - like Gerard - he had once expressed a desire to be laid to rest in one of the sea caves at the mountain's foot, facing the waters he had sailed so long, so often. One such had been prepared for him, and there would be a procession after the service to inter him there. It was a windy, misty, sea-cool morning with only a few sails in sight, moving to or from the port over half a league westward of us.

Technically, I suppose Random should have officiated, since his kingship automatically made him high priest, but aside from reading an opening and closing passage on the Passing of Princes from the Book of the Unicorn, he turned the service over to Gerard to perform in his stead, as Caine had gotten along with Gerard better than with anyone else in the family. So Gerard's booming voice filled the small stone building, reading long sections involving the sea and mutability. It was said that Dworkin himself had penned the Book in his saner days, and that long passages had come direct from the Unicorn. I don't know. I wasn't there. It is also said that we are descended of Dworkin and the Unicorn, which gives rise to some unusual mental images. Origins of anything tend to fade off into myth, though. Who knows? I wasn't around then.

«… And all things return to the sea,» Gerard was saying. I looked about me. Besides the family, there were perhaps forty or fifty people present, mostly nobility from the town, a few merchants with whom Caine had been friendly, representatives of realms in several adjacent shadows where Caine had spent time on both official and personal business, and of course Vinta Bayle. Bill had expressed a desire to be present, and he stood to my left. Martin was at my right. Neither Fiona nor Bleys was present. Bleys had pleaded his injury and excused himself from the service. Fiona had simply vanished. Random had been unable to locate her this morning. Julian departed partway through the service, to check on the guard he had posted along the strand, someone having pointed out that a would-be assassin could rack up a high score with that many of us together in one small space. Consequently, Julian's foresters, with short sword, dagger, and longbow or lance, were spotted strategically all over the place - and every now and then we'd hear the baying of one of his hellhounds, to be answered almost immediately by several others, a mournful, unnerving thing, counterpointing waves, wind, and reflections upon mortality. Where had she gotten off to? I wondered. Fiona? Fear of a trap? Or something to do with last night? And Benedict… he had sent regrets and regards, mentioning sudden business that precluded his making it back in time. Llewella simply hadn't shown, and could not be reached by Trump. Flora stood ahead and to the left of me, knowing she looked lovely in dark colors, too. Perhaps I do her an injustice. I don't know. But she seemed more fidgety than contemplative.

At the conclusion of the service we filed out, four seamen bearing Caine's casket, and we formed up into a procession that would lead to the cave and his sarcophagus. A number of Julian's troops came up to pace us as an armed escort.

As we walked along, Bill nudged me and gestured upward with his head, toward Kolvir. I looked in that direction and beheld a black-cloaked and cowled figure standing upon a ledge in the shadow of a rocky projection. Bill leaned close so that I could hear him above the sound of the pipes and strings that were now playing.

«Is that one some part of the ceremony?» he asked.

«Not that I know of,» I answered.

I broke out of line and moved forward. In another minute or so we would pass directly beneath the figure.

I caught up with Random and put my hand on his shoulder. When he looked back I pointed upward. He halted and stared, squinting.

His right hand rose to his breast, where he wore the Jewel of Judgment, as on most state occasions. Instantly, the winds rose.

«Halt!» Random called out. «Stop the procession! Everyone stay where you are!»

The figure moved then, slightly, head turning as if to stare at Random. In the sky, as if by trick photography, a cloud blew itself together, growing, above Kolvir. A red, pulsing glow emerged from beneath Random's hand.

Suddenly, the figure looked upward and a hand flashed beneath the cloak, emerging moments later to perform a quick casting movement. A tiny black object hung in the air, then began its descent.

«Everybody down!» Gerard called out.

Random did not move as the others of us dropped. He remained standing, watching, as lightning emerged from the cloud and played across the face of the cliff.

The thunder that followed coincided almost exactly with the explosion that occurred high overhead. The distance had been too great. The bomb had gone off before it reached us - though it would probably have scored had we continued as we were, to pass beneath the ledge and have it dropped directly upon us. When the spots stopped dancing before my eyes, I regarded the cliff again. The dark figure was gone.

«Did you get him?» I asked Random.

He shrugged as he lowered his hand. The Jewel had ceased its pulsing.

«Everybody on your feet!» he called out. «Let's get on with this funeral!»

And we did. There were no more incidents, and the business was concluded as planned.

My thoughts, and probably everyone else's, were already playing family games as the box was being fitted into the vault. Might the attacker have been one of our absent kin? And if so, which one? What motives might each of them possess for the act? Where were they now? And what were their alibis? Could there have been a coalition involved? Or cold it have been an outsider? If so, how was access obtained to the local supply of explosives? Or was this imported stuff? Or had someone local come up with the proper formula? If it were an outsider, what was the motive and where was the person from? Had one of us imported an assassin? Why?

As we filed past the vault I did think fleetingly of Caine, but more as part of the puzzle picture than as an individual. I had not known him all that well. But then, several of the others had told me early on that he was not the easiest person to get to know. He was tough and cynical and had a streak of cruelty in his nature. He had made quite a few enemies over the years and seemed even to be proud of this fact. He had always been decent enough with me, but then we'd never been at cross-purposes over anything. So my feelings did not run as deep for him as they did for most of the others. Julian was another of this cut, but more polished on the surface. And no one could be certain what lay beneath that surface an any given day. Caine… I wish I'd gotten to know you better. I am certain that I am diminished by your passing in ways that I do not even understand.

Departing, afterward, heading back to the palace for food and drink, I wondered, not for the first time, how my problems and everyone else's were connected. For I felt they were. I don't mind small coincidences, but I don't trust big ones.

And Meg Devlin? Did she know something of this business, too? It seemed possible that she might. Husband or no husband, I decided, we had a date. Soon.

Later, in the big dining hall, amid the buzz of conversation and the rattle of cutlery and crockery, one vague possibility occurred to me and I resolved to pursue it immediately. Excusing myself from the cold but attractive company of Vinta Bayle, third daughter of some minor nobility and apparently Caine's last mistress, I made my way to the far end of the hall and the small knot of people surrounding Random. I was standing there for several minutes, wondering how to break in, when he spotted me. He excused himself from the others immediately advanced upon me, and caught hold of my sleeve.

«Merlin,» he said, «I don't have time now, but I just wanted to let you know that I don't consider our conversation concluded. I want to get together with you again later this afternoon or this evening - as soon as I'm free. So don't go running off anywhere till we've talked, okay?»

I nodded.

«One quick question,» I said, as he began turning back toward the others.

«Shoot,» he said.

«Are there any Amberites currently in residence on the shadow Earth I just departed - agents of any sort?»

He shook his head.

«I don't have any, and I don't believe any of the others do just now. I have a number of contacts there in different places, but they're all natives - like Bill.»

His eyes narrowed.

«Something new come up?» he asked then.

I nodded again.

«Serious?»

«Possibly.»

«I wish I had the time to hear it, but it'll just have to keep till we talk later.»

«I understand.»

«I'Il send for you,» he said, and he returned to his companions.

That shot down the only explanation I could think of for Meg Devlin. It also foreclosed the possibility of my taking off to see her as soon as I could leave the gathering.

I consoled myself with another plate of food. After a time, Flora entered the hall, studied all the knots of humanity, then made her way among them to settle beside me on the window seat.

«No way of talking to Random right now without an audience,» she said.

«You're right,» I replied. «May I get you something to eat or drink?»

«Not now. Maybe you can help. You're a sorcerer.»

I didn't like that opening, but I asked, «What's the problem?»

«I went to Bleys' rooms, to see whether he wanted to come down and join us. He's gone.»

«Wasn't his door locked? Most people do that around here.»

«Yes, from the inside. So he must have trumped out. I broke in when he didn't answer, since there'd been one attempt on his life already.»

«And what would you want of a sorcerer?»

«Can you trace him?»

«Trumps don't leave tracks,» I said. «But even if I could, I'm not so sure that I would. He knows what he's doing, and he obviously wants to be left alone.»

«But what if he's involved? He and Caine had been on opposite sides in the past.»

«If he's mixed up in something dangerous to the rest of us you should be happy to see him go.»

«So you can't help - or won't?»

I nodded.

«Both, I guess. Any decision to seek him out should really come from Random, don't you think?»

«Maybe.»

«I'd suggest keeping it to yourself till you can talk to Random. No use stirring up fruitless speculations among the others. Or I' ll tell him, if you' d like. I' m going to be talking with him a bit later.»

«What about?»

Ouch.

«Not sure,» I said. «It's something he wants to tell me, or ask me.»

She studied me carefully.

«We haven't really had our own little talk yet,» she said then.

«Looks like we're having it now.»

«Okay. May I hear about your problems in one of my favorite shadows?»

«Why not?» I said, and I launched into a synopsis of the damned thing again. I felt that this would be the final time, though. Once Flora knew it I was confident it would make the rounds.

She had no information bearing upon my case that she cared to share. We chatted for a while then - local gossip, and she finally decided to get something to eat. She departed in the direction of the food and did not return.

I talked with a few of the others, too - about Caine, about my father. I did not hear anything that I did not already know. I was introduced to a number of people I had not met before. I memorized a mess of names and relationships since I had nothing better to do.

When things finally broke up, I kept an eye on Random and contrived to depart at about the same time he did.

«Later,» he said as we passed, and he went off with a couple of guys he'd been talking with.

So I went back to my rooms and stretched out on the bed. When things are brewing you take your rest whenever you can.

After a time I slept, and I dreamed…

I was walking in the formal garden behind the palace. Someone else was with me, but I did not know who it was. This did not seem to matter. I heard a familiar howling. Suddenly, there were growling noises near at hand. The first time I looked about I saw nothing. But then, abruptly, they were there - three huge, doglike creatures similar to the one I had slain in Julia's apartment. They were racing toward me across the garden. The howling continued, but they were not its authors. They restricted themselves to growling and slavering as they came on. Just as suddenly, I realized that this was a dream and that I had dreamt it several times before only to lose track of it upon awakening. The knowledge that it was a dream, however, in no way detracted from the feeling of menace as they rushed toward me. All three of them were surrounded by a kind of light - pale, distorting. Looking past them, through their haloes, I did not see the garden but caught glimpses of a forest. When they drew near and sprang to attack it was as if they had encountered a glass wall. They fell back, rose and dashed toward me once more only to be blocked again. They leaped and growled and whined and tried again. It was as if I stood beneath a bell jar or within a magic circle, though. They could not get at me. Then the howling came louder, came nearer and they turned their attention away from me.

«Wow!» Random said. «I should charge you something for pulling you out of a nightmare.»

…And I was awake and lying on my bed and there was darkness beyond my window - and I realized that Random had called me via my Trump and tuned in on my dream when he'd made contact.

I yawned and thought him my answer,

«Thanks.»

«Finish waking up and let's have our talk,» he said.

«Yes. Where are you?»

«Downstairs. The little sitting room off the main hall to the south. Drinking coffee. We've got it to ourselves.»

«See you in five.»

«Check.» Random faded. I sat up, swung my feet over the side of the bed, and rose. I crossed the room to the window and flung it wide. I inhaled the crisp evening air of autumn. Spring on the shadow Earth, fall here in Amber - my two favorite seasons. I should be heartened, uplifted. Instead a trick of the night, the tag-end of the dream - it seemed for a moment that I heard the final note of the howling. I shuddered and closed the window. Our dreams are too much with us.

I hiked down to the designated room and took a seat on one of its sofas. Random let me get through half a cup of coffee before he said, «Tell me about the Ghostwheel.»

«It's a kind of paraphysical surveillance device and library.»

Random put down his cup and cocked his head to one side.

«Could you be more specific?» he said.

«Well, my work with computers led me to speculate that basic data-processing principles could be employed with interesting results in a place where computer mechanics themselves would not operate,» I began. «In other words, I had to locate a shadow environment where the operations would remain pretty much invariant but where the physical construct, all of the peripherals, the programming techniques and the energy inputs would be of a different nature.»

«Uh, Merlin,» Random said. «You've lost me already.»

«I designed and built a piece of data-processing equipment in a shadow where no ordinary computer could function,» I replied, «because I used different materials, a radically different design, a different power source. I also chose a place where different physical laws apply, so that it could operate along different lines. I was then able to write programs for it which would not have operated on the shadow Earth where I'd been living. In doing so, I believe that I created a unique artifact. I called it the Ghostwheel because of certain aspects of its appearance.»

«And it's a surveillance device and a library. What do you mean by that?»

«It riffles through Shadow like the pages of a book - or a deck of cards,» I said. «Program it for whatever you want checked out and it will keep an eye on it for you. I was planning it as a surprise. You could, say, use it to determine whether any of our potential enemies are mobilizing, or to follow the progress of Shadow-storms, or -»

«Wait a minute,» he said, raising a hand. «How? How does it flip through shadows that way? What makes it work?»

«In effect,» I explained, «it creates the equivalent of multitudes of Trumps in an instant, then -»

«Stop. Back up. How can you write a program for the creation of Trumps? I thought they could only be done by a person who had an initiate of either the Pattern or the Logrus.».

«But in this case,» I said, «the machine itself is of that same class of magical objects as Dad's blade, Grayswandir. I incorporated elements of the Pattern itself into its design.»

«And you were going to surprise us with this?»

«Yes, once it's ready.»

«When will that be?»

«I'm not sure. It had to gather certain critical amounts of data before its programs could become fully operational. I set it to do that a while back, and I haven't had a chance to check on it recently.»

Random poured some more coffee, took a drink.

«I don't see where it would save that much in the way of time and effort,» he said a little later. «Say I'm curious about something in Shadow. I go and investigate, or I send someone. Now, say that instead I want to use this thing to check it out. I still have to spend the time going to the place where you keep it.»

«No,» I told him. «You summon a remote terminal.»

«Summon? A terminal?»

«Right.» I unearthed my Amber Trumps and dealt myself the one off the bottom. It showed a silver wheel against a dark background. I passed it to Random and he studied it.

«How do you use it?» he asked.

«Same as the others. You want to call it to you?»

«You do it,» he said. «I want to watch.»

«Very well,» I answered. «But while I've set it to gathering data across the shadows it still won't know a whole lot that's useful at this point.»

«I don't want to question it so much as I want to see it.»

I raised the card and stared, seeing through it with my mind's eye. After a few moments, there was contact. I called it to me.

There followed a small crackling sound and a feeling of ionization in the air as a glowing wheel about eight feet in diameter materialized before me.

«Diminish terminal size,» I ordered.

It shrank down to about a third of what it had been and I ordered it to halt at that point. It looked like a pale picture frame, occasional sparks dancing within it, the view across the room constantly rippling as seen through its center.

Random began to extend a hand.

«Don't,» I said. «You might get a shock. I still don't have all the bugs out.»

«It can transmit energy?»

«Well, it could. No big deal.»

«If you ordered to transmit energy…?»

«Oh, sure. It has to be able to transmit energy here to sustain the terminal, and through Shadow to operate its scanners.»

«I mean, could it discharge it at this end?»

«If I told it to it could build up a charge and let it go. Yes.»

«What are its limits in this?»

«Whatever it has available.»

«And what does it have available?»

«Well, in theory an entire planet. But -»

«Supposing you ordered it to appear beside someone here, build up a large charge and discharge it into that person. Could it do an electrocution?»

«I guess so,» I said. «I don't see why not. But that's not its purpose -»

«Merlin, your surprise is certainly a surprise. But I'm not sure I like it.»

«It's safe,» I explained. «No one knows where it's located. No one goes there. This Trump I have is the only one. Nobody else can reach it. I was going to make one more card, just for you, and then show you how to operate the thing when it was ready.»

«I'm going to have to think about this…»

«Ghost, within five thousand Shadow veils, this location - how many Shadow-storms are currently in existence?»

The words came as if spoken within the hoop: «Seventeen.»

«Sounds like -»

«I gave it my voice,» I told him. «Ghost, give us some pictures of the biggest one.»

A scene of chaotic fury filled the hoop.

«Another thought just occurred to me,» Random stated. «Can it transport things?»

«Sure, just like a regular Trump.»

«Was the original size of that circle its maximum size?»

«No, we could make it a lot larger if you wanted. Or smaller.»

«I don't. But supposing you made it larger -and then told it to transmit that storm, or as much of it as it could manage?»

«Wow! I don't know. It would try. It would probably be like opening a giant window onto it.»

«Merlin, shut it down. It's dangerous.»

«Like I said, nobody knows where it is but me, and the only other way to reach it is -»

«I know, I know. Tell me, could anybody access it with the proper Trump, or just by finding it?»

«Well, yes. I didn't bother with any security codes because of its inaccessibility.»

«That thing could be an awesome weapon, kid. Shut it down. Now.»

«I can't.»

«What do you mean?»

«You can't dump its memory or kill its power from a remote terminal. I would actually have to travel to the site itself to do that»

«Then I suggest you get going. I want it turned off until there are a lot more safeguards built into it. Even then - well, we'll see. I don't trust a power like that. Not when I don't have any defenses against it. It could. strike almost without warning. What were you thinking of when you built that thing?»

«Data-processing. Look, we're the only ones -»

«There's always a possibility someone will get wise to it and find a way to get at it. I know, I know - you're in love with your handiwork - and I appreciate what you had in mind. But it's got to go.»

«I have done nothing to offend you.» It was my voice, but it came from the wheel.

Random stared at it, looked at me, looked back at it.

«Uh - that's not the point,» he addressed it. «It's your potential that I'm concerned about. Merlin, turn off the terminal!»

«End transmission,» I said. «Withdraw terminal.» It wavered a moment, then was gone.

«Had you anticipated that comment from the thing?» Random asked me.

«No. I was surprised.»

«I'm beginning to dislike surprises. Maybe that shadow environment is actually altering the thing in subtle ways. You know my wishes. Give it a rest.»

I bowed my head. «Whatever you say, sir.»

«Cut it out. Don't be a martyr. Just do it.»

«I still think it's just a matter of installing a few safeguards. No reason to crash the whole project.»

«If things were quieter,» he said, «maybe I' d go along with it, But there's too much shit coming down right now, with snipers and bombers and all the things you've been telling me about. I don't need another worry.»

I got to my feet.

«Okay. Thanks for the coffee,» I said. «I'll let you know when it's done.»

He nodded.

«Good night, Merlin.»

«Good night.»

As I was stalking out through the big entrance hall I saw Julian, in a green dressing gown, talking with two of his men. On the floor between them lay a large dead animal. I halted and stared. It was one of those same damned dog things I had just dreamed about, like at Julia's.

I approached.

«Hi, Julian. What is it?» I asked gesturing.

He shook his head.

«Don't know. But the hellhounds just killed three of them in Arden. I trumped these guys up with one of the carcasses, to show Random. You wouldn't know where he is, would you?»

I stabbed with my thumb back over my shoulder.

«In the sitting room.»

He walked off in that direction. I went nearer and prodded the animal with my toe. Should I go back and tell Random I'd met one before?

The hell with it, I decided. I couldn't see how the information would be of any vital use.

I returned to my rooms and washed up and changed my clothes. Then I stopped by the kitchen and filled my backpack with food. I didn't feel like saying good-bye to anyone, so I just headed for the back and took the big rear staircase down into the gardens.

Dark. Starry. Cool. Walking, I felt a sudden chill as I neared the spot where, in my dream, the dogs had appeared. No howls, no growls. Nothing. I passed through that area and continued on my way to the rear of that well-kept site, to the place where a number of trails led off through a more natural landscape. I took the second one from the left. It was a slightly longer route than another I might have chosen - with which it intersected later, anyway - but was easier going, a thing I felt I needed in the night. I was still not all that familiar with the irregularities of the other way.

I hiked the crest of Kolvir for the better part of an hour before I located the downward trail I was seeking. I halted then, took a drink of water and rested for a few minutes before I began the descent.

It is very difficult to walk in Shadow on Kolvir. One has to put some distance between oneself and Amber in order to do it properly. So all I could do at this point was hike which was fine with me, because it was a good night for walking.

I was well on my way down before a glow occurred overhead and the moon crested a shoulder of Kolvir and poured its light upon my twisting trail. I increased my pace somewhat after that. I did want to make it off the mountain by morning.

I was angry with Random for not giving me a chance to justify my work. I hadn't really been ready to tell him about it. If it hadn't been for Caine's funeral I would not have returned to Amber until I'd had the thing perfected. And I wasn't even going to mention Ghostwheel this time around, except that it had figured in a small way in the mystery that had engulfed me and Random had wanted to know about it in order to have the whole story. Okay. He didn't like what he'd seen, but the preview had been premature. Now, if I shut it down as I'd been ordered I would ruin a lot of work that had been in progress for some time now. Ghostwheel was still in a Shadow - scanning, self-education phase. I would have been checking on it about now, anyway, to see how it was coming along and to correct any obvious flaws that had crept into the system.

I thought about it as the trail grew steeper and curved on Kolvir's western face. Random had not exactly ordered me to dump everything it had accumulated thus far. He' d simply told me to shut it down. Viewed the way I chose to view it, that meant I could exercise my own judgment as to means. I decided that gave me leeway to check everything out first, reviewing systems functions and revising programs until I was satisfied that everything was in order. Then I could transfer everything to a more permanent status before shutting it down. Then nothing would be lost; its memory would be intact when the time came to restore its functions again.

Maybe…

What if I did everything to make it shipshape, including throwing in a few - as I saw it - unnecessary safeguards to make Random happy? Then, I mused, supposing I got in touch with Random, showed him what I'd done, and asked him whether he was happy with it that way? If he weren't, I could always shut it down then. But perhaps he'd reconsider. Worth thinking about…

I played over imaginary conversations with Random until the moon had drifted off to my left. I was more than halfway down Kolvir by then and the going was becoming progressively easier. I could already feel the force of the Pattern as somewhat diminished.

I halted a couple of more times on the way down, for water and once for a sandwich. The more I thought about it, the more I felt that Random would just get angry if I proceeded along the lines I had been thinking and probably wouldn't even give me a full hearing. On the other hand, I was angry myself.

But it was a long journey with few shortcuts. I'd have plenty of time to mull it over.

The sky was growing lighter when I crossed the last rocky slope to reach the wide trail at the foot of Kolvir to the northwest. I regarded a stand of trees across the way, one large one a familiar landmark

With a dazzling flash that seemed to sizzle and a bomblike report of thunder the tree was split, not a hundred meters away. I'd flung up both hands at the lightning stroke, but I could still hear cracking wood and the echo of the blast for several seconds afterward.

Then a voice cried out, «Go back!»

I assumed I was the subject of this conversational gambit. «May we talk this over?» I responded.

There was no reply.

I stretched out in a shallow declivity beside the trail, then crawled along it for several body lengths to a place where the cover was better. I was listening and watching the while, hoping that whoever had pulled that stunt would betray his position in some fashion.

Nothing happened, but for the next half minute I surveyed the grove and a portion of the slope down which I had come. From that angle their proximity gave me a small inspiration.

I summoned the image of the Logrus, and two of its lines became my arms. I reached then, not through Shadow but up the slope to where a fairly good-sized rock was poised above a mass of others.

Seizing hold, I drew upon it. It was too heavy to topple easily, so I began rocking it. Slowly, at first. Finally, I got it to the tipping point and it tumbled. It fell among the others and a small cascade began. I withdrew further as they struck and sent new ones bouncing. Several big ones bean to roll. A fracture line gave way when they fell upon its edge at a steeper place. An entire sheet of stone groaned and cracked, began to slide.

I could feel the vibration as I continued my withdrawal. I had not anticipated setting off anything this spectacular. The rocks bounced, slid and flew into the grove. I watched the trees sway, saw some of them go down. I heard the crunching, the pinging, the breaking.

I gave it an extra half minute after what seemed its end. There was much dust in the air and half of the grove was down. Then I rose to my feet, Frakir dangling from my left hand, and I advanced upon the grove.

I searched carefully, but there was no one there. I climbed upon the trunk of a fallen tree.

«I repeat, do you care to talk about it?» I called out. No answer.

«Okay, be that way,» I said, and I headed north into Arden.

x x x

I heard the sound of horses occasionally as I hiked through that ancient forest. If I was being followed, though, the horsemen showed no interest in closing with me. Most likely, I was passing in the vicinity of one of Julian's patrols.

Not that it mattered. I soon located a trail and began the small adjustments that bore me farther and farther from them.

A lighter shade, from brown to yellow, and slightly shorter trees… Fewer breaks in the leafy canopy… Odd bird note, strange mushroom…

Little by little, the character of the wood was altered. And the shifting grew easier and easier the farther this took me from Amber.

I began to pass sunny clearings. The sky grew a paler blue… The trees were all green now, but most of them saplings…

I broke into a jog.

Masses of clouds came into view, the spongy earth grew firmer, drier…

I stepped up my pace, heading downhill. Grasses were more abundant. The trees were divided into clusters now, islands in a waving sea of those pale grasses. My view took in a greater distance. A flapping, beaded curtain off to my right: rain.

Rumbles of thunder came to me, though sunlight continued to light my way. I breathed deeply of the clean damp air and ran on.

The grasses fell away, ground fissured, sky blackened… Waters rushed through canyons and arroyos all about me… Torrents poured from overhead onto the rocking terrain…

I began slipping. I cursed each time I picked myself up, for my overeagerness in the shifting.

The clouds parted like a theater curtain, to where a lemon sun poured warmth and light from a salmon-colored sky. The thunder halted in mid-rumble and a wind rose…

I made my way up a hillside, looked down upon a ruined gage. Long-abandoned, partly overgrown, strange mounds lined its broken main street.

I passed through it beneath a slate-colored sky, picked my way slowly across an icy pond, faces of those frozen beneath me staring sightlessly in all directions…

The sky was soot-streaked, the snow hard-packed, my breath feathery as I entered the skeletal wood where frozen birds perched: an etching.

Slipping downhill, rolling, sliding into melting and spring… Movement again; about me… Mucky ground and clumps of green… Strange cars on distant highway…

A junkyard, smelling, oozing, rusting, smoldering… Threading my way amid acres of heaps… Rats scurrying…

Away… Shifting faster, breathing harder… Skyline beneath smog cap… Delta bottom… Seashore… Golden pylons along the road… Countryside with lakes… Brown grasses beneath green sky…

Slowing… Rolling grassland, river and lake… Slowing… Breeze and grass, sealike… Mopping my brow on my sleeve… Sucking air… Walking now…

I moved through the field at a normal pace, preferring to do my resting in a congenial spot such as this, where I could see for a good distance. The wind made soft noises as it passed among the' grasses. The nearest lake was a deep lime color. Something in the air smelled sweet.

I thought I saw a brief flash of light off to my right, but when I looked that way there was nothing unusual to be seen. A little later, I was certain that I heard a distant sound of hoofbeats. But again, I saw nothing. That's the trouble with shadows - you don't always know what's natural there; you're never certain what to look for.

Several minutes passed, and then I smelled it before I saw anything.

Smoke. The next instant there was a rush of fire. A long line of flame cut across my path.

And again the voice: «I told you to go back!»

The wind was behind the fire, pushing it toward me. I turned to head away and saw that it was already flanking me. It takes a while to build up the proper mental set for shadow-shifting, and I had let mine go. I doubted I could set it up again in time.

I began running.

The line of flame was curving about me, as if to describe a huge circle. I did not pause to admire the precision of the thing, however, as I could feel the heat by then and the smoke was getting thicker.

Above the fire's crackling it seemed that I could still hear the drumming of hoofs. My eyes were beginning to water, though, and streams of smoke further diminished my vision. And again, I detected no sign of the person who had sprung the trap.

Yet - definitely - the ground was shaking with the rapid progress of a hooved creature headed in my direction. The flames flashed higher, drew nearer as the circle coshed toward closure.

I was wondering what new menace was approaching, when a horse and rider burst into view through the gap in the fiery wall. The rider drew back the reins, but the horse a chestnut - was not too happy at the nearness of the flames it bared its teeth, biting at the bit, and tried several times to rear.

«Hurry! Behind me!» the rider cried, and I rushed to mount.

The rider was a dark-haired woman. I caught only a glimpse of her features. She managed to turn the horse back in the direction from which she had come, and she shook the reins. The chestnut started forward, and suddenly it reared. I managed to hang on.

When its front hooves struck the ground, the beast wheeled and tore off toward the light. It was almost into the flames when it wheeled again.

«Damn!» I heard the rider say, as she worked almost frantically with the reins.

The horse turned again, neighing loudly. Bloody spittle dripped from its mouth. And by then the circle was closed, the smoke was heavy and the flames very near. I was in no position to help, beyond giving it a pair of sharp kicks in the flanks when it began moving in a straight line again.

It plunged into the flames to our left, almost screaming as it went. I had no idea how wide the band of fire was at that point. I could feel a searing along my legs, though, and I smelled burning hair.

Then the beast was roaring again, the rider was screaming back at it, and I found that I could no longer hold on. I felt myself sliding backward just as we broke through the ring of fire and into a charred, smoldering area where the flames had already passed. I fell amid hot black clumps; ashes rose about me. I rolled frantically to my left, and I coughed and squeezed my eyes shut against the cloud of ashes that assailed my face.

I heard the woman scream and I scrambled to my feet, rubbing my eyes. My vision came clear in time for me to see the chestnut rising from where he had apparently fallen atop his rider. The horse immediately tore off, to be lost among clouds of smoke. The woman lay very still and I rushed to her side. Kneeling, I brushed sparks from her clothing and checked for breathing and a pulse. Her eyes opened while I was doing this.

«Back's - broken I think,» she said, coughing. «Don't feel - much…… Escape - if you can…… Leave me. I'll die - anyway.»

«No way,» I said. «But I've got to move you. There's a lake nearby, if I remember right.»

I removed my cloak where it was tied about my waist and I spread it out beside her. I inched her onto it as carefully as I could, folded it over her to protect her against the flames and began dragging her in what I hoped was the proper direction.

We made it through a shifting patchwork of fire and smoke. My throat was raw, my eyes watering steadily and my trousers on fire when I took a big step backward and felt my heel squish downward into mud. I kept going.

Finally, I was waist deep in the water and supporting her there. I leaned forward, pushed a flap of the cloak back from her face. Her eyes were still open, but they looked unfocused and there was no movement. Before I could feel for a carotid pulse, however, she made a hissing noise, then she spoke my name.

«Merlin,» she said hoarsely, «I'm - sorry -»

«You helped me and I couldn't help you,» I said. «I'm sorry.»

«Sorry I didn't last - longer,» she continued. «No good - with horses. They're - following you.»

«Who?» I asked.

«Called off - the dogs, though. But the - fire - is someone - else's. Don't know - whose.»

«I don't know what you're talking about.»

I splashed a little water onto her cheeks to cool them. Between the soot and her singed, disheveled hair it was difficult to judge her appearance.

«Someone - behind - you,» she said, her voice growing fainter. «Someone - ahead - too. Didn't - know - about that one. Sorry.»

«Who?» I asked again. «And who are you? How do you know me? Why -»

She smiled faintly. «… Sleep with you. Can't now. Going…»

Her eyes closed.

«No!» I cried.

Her face contorted and she sucked in a final breath. She expelled it then, using it to form the whispered words.

«Just - let me - sink here. G'bye…»

A cloud of smoke blew across her face. I held my breath and shut my eyes as a larger billow followed, engulfing us. When the air finally cleared again, I studied her. Her breathing had ceased and there was no pulse, no heartbeat. There was no nonburning, nonmarshy area available for even an attempt at CPR. She was gone. She'd known she was going.

I wrapped my cloak about her carefully, turning it into a shroud. Last of all, I folded a flap over her face. I fixed everything into place with the clasp I'd used to close it at my neck when I'd worn it. Then I waded out into deeper water.

«Just let me sink here.» Sometimes the dead sink quickly, sometimes they float…

«Good-bye, lady,» I said. «Wish I knew your name. Thanks again.»

I released my hold upon her. The waters swirled. She was gone. After a time, I looked away then moved away. Too many questions and no answers.

Somewhere, a maddened horse was screaming…

Chapter 9

Several hours and many shadows later I rested again, in a place with a clear sky and not much tinder about. I bathed in a shallow stream and afterward summoned fresh clothing out of Shadow. Clean and dry then, I rested on the bank and made myself a meal.

It seemed as if every day were now an April 30. It seemed as if everyone I met knew me, and as if everyone were playing an elaborate double-game. People were dying all about me and disasters were becoming a common occurrence. I was beginning to feel like a figure in a video game. What would be next? I wondered. A meteor shower?

There had to be a key. The nameless lady who had given her life to pull me out of the fire had said that someone was following me and that there was someone ahead of me, also. What did that mean? Should I wait for my pursuer to catch up and simply ask him, her, or it what the hell was going on? Or should I push on fast, hopefully catch the other party and make inquiry there? Would either give me the same answer? Or were there two different answers involved? Would a duel satisfy someone's honor? I'd fight it, then. Or a bribe.

I'd pay it. All I wanted was an answer followed by a little peace and quiet. I chuckled. That sounded like a description of death-though I wasn't that sure about the answer part.

«Shit!» I commented, to no one in particular, and I tossed a stone into the stream.

I got to my feet and crossed the water. Written in the sand on its opposite shore were the words GO BACK. I stepped on them and broke into a run.

The world spun about me as I touched the shadows. Vegetation fell away. The rocks grew into boulders, lightening, taking on a sparkle…

I ran through a valley of prisms beneath an awesome purple sky… Wind among rainbow stones, singing, Aeolian music…

Garments lashed by gales… Purple to lavender above… Sharp cries within the strains of sound… Earth cracking…

Faster. I am giant. Same landscape; infinitesimal now… Cyclopean, I grind the glowing stones beneath my feet… Dust of rainbows upon my boots, puffs of cloud about my shoutders…

Atmosphere thickening, thickening; almost to liquid, and green… Swirling… Slow motion, my best efforts… Swimming in it… Castles fit for aquaria drift by… Bright missiles like fireflies assail me… I feel nothing…

Green to blue… Thinning, thinning… Blue smoke and air like incense… The reverberation of a million invisible gongs, incessant… -. I clench my teeth.

Faster. Blue to pink, spark-shot… A catlick of fire… Another… Heatless flames dance like sea plants:… Higher, rising higher… Walls of fire buckle and crackle…

Footfalls at my back.

Don't look. Shift.

Sky split down the middle, by sun a comet streaking… Here and gone… Again: Again. Three days in as many heartbeats… I breathe the air spicy… Swirl the fires, descend to purple earth… Prism in the sky… I race the course of a glowing river across a field of fungus color of blood, spongy… Spores that turn to jewels, fall like bullets…

Night on a plain of brass, footfalls echoing to eternity… Knobbed machinelike plants clanking, metal flowers retracting back to metal stalks, stalks to consoles… Clank, clank, sigh… Echoes only, at my back?

I spin once.

Was that a dark figure ducking behind a windmill tree? Or only the dance of shadows in my shadow-shifting eyes? Forward. Through glass and sandpaper, orange ice, landscape of pale flesh…

There is no sun, only pale light… There is no earth… Only thin bridges and islands in the air… The world is crystal matrix…

Up, down, around. Through a hole in the air and down a chute…

Sliding… To a cobalt beach beside a still copper sea… Twilight without stars… Faint glow everywhere… Dead, dead this place… Blue rocks… Broken statues of inhuman beings… Nothing stirring…

Stop. I drew a magic circle about me in the sand and invested it with the forces of Chaos. I spread my new cloak then at its center, stretched out and went to sleep. I dreamed that the waters rose up to wash away a portion of the circle, and that a green, scaly being with purple hair and sharp teeth crept out of the sea and came to me to drink my blood.

When I awoke, I saw that the circle was broken and a green, scaly being with purple hair and sharp teeth lay dead upon the beach a half dozen yards from me, Frakir knotted tightly about its throat and the sand disturbed all around. I must have slept very deeply.

I retrieved my strangling cord and crossed another bridge over infinity.

On the next leg of my journey I was nearly caught up in a flash flood the first time I paused to rest. I was no longer unwary, however, and I kept ahead of it long enough to shift away. I received another warning - in burning letters on the face of an obsidian mountain - suggesting I withdraw, retire, go home. My shouted invitation to a conference was ignored.

I traveled till it was time to sleep again, and I camped then in the Blackened Lands - still, gray, musty, and foggy. I found myself an easily defended cleft, warded it against magic and slept.

Later - how much later, I am uncertain I was awakened from a dreamless slumber by the pulsing of Frakir upon my wrist. I was instantly awake, and then I wondered why. I heard nothing and I saw nothing untoward within my limited field of vision. But Frakir - who is not 100 percent perfect always has a reason when she does give an alarm. I waited, and I recalled my image of the Logrus while I did so. When it was fully before me I fitted my hand within it as if it were a glove and I reached…

I seldom carry a blade above the length of a middle-sized dagger. It's too damned cumbersome having several feet of steel hanging at my side, bumping into me, catching onto bushes, and occasionally even tripping me up. My father, and most of the others in Amber and the Courts, swear by the heavy, awkward things, but they are probably made of sterner stuff than myself. I've nothing against them in principle. I love fencing, and I've had a lot of training in their use. I just find carrying one all the time to be a nuisance. The belt even rubs a raw place on my hip after a while. Normally, I prefer Frakir and improvisation. However…

This, I was willing to admit, might be a good time to be holding one. For now I heard bellowslike hissing sounds and scrambling noises from somewhere outside and to my left.

I extended through Shadow, seeking a blade. I extended, I extended…

Damn. I had come far from any metalworking culture of the appropriate anatomy and at the proper phase in its historical development.

I continued to reach, sweat suddenly beading my brow. Far, very far. And the sounds came nearer, louder, faster. There came rattling, stamping and spitting noises. A roar. Contact!

I felt the haft of the weapon in my hand. Seize and summon! I called it to me, and I was thrown against the wall by the force of its delivery. I hung there a moment before I could draw it from the sheath in which it was still encased. In that moment, things grew silent outside.

I waited ten seconds. Fifteen. Half a minute… Nothing now.

I wiped my palms on my trousers. I continued to listen. Finally, I advanced.

There was nothing immediately before the opening save a light fog, and as the peripheral lines of sight opened there was still nothing to behold.

Another step… No.

Another. I was right at the threshold now. I leaned forward and darted a quick glance in either direction.

Yes. There was something off to the left - dark, low, unmoving, half masked by the fog. Crouched? Ready to spring at me?

Whatever it was, it did not stir and it kept total silence. I did the same. After a time, I noticed another dark form of the same general outline beyond it - and possibly a third even farther away. None of them showed any inclination to raise the sort of hell I had been listening to but minutes before.

I continued my vigil.

Several minutes must have passed before I stepped outside. Nothing was roused by my movement. I took another step and waited. Then another.

Finally, moving slowly, I approached the first form. An ugly brute, covered with scales the color of dried blood. A couple of hundred pounds' worth of creature, long and sinuous… Nasty teeth, too, I noted, when I opened its mouth with the point of my weapon. I knew it was safe to do this, because its head was almost completely severed from the rest of it. A very clean cut. A yellow-orange liquid still flowed from the wound.

And I could see from where I stood that the other two forms were creatures of the same sort. In all ways. They were dead, too. The second one I examined had been run through several times and was missing one leg. The third had been hacked to pieces. All of them oozed, and they smelled faintly of cloves.

I inspected the well-trampled area. Mixed in with that strange blood and the dew were what seemed to be the partial impressions of a boot, human-scale. I sought farther and I came across one intact footprint. It was pointed back in the direction from which I had come.

My pursuer? S, perhaps? The one who had called off the dogs? Coming to my aid?

I shook my head. I was tired of looking for sense where there wasn't any. I continued to search, but there were no more full tracks. I returned to the cleft then and picked up my blade's sheathe. I fitted the weapon into it and hung it from my belt. I fastened it over my shoulders so that it hung down my back. The hilt would protrude just above my backpack once I'd shouldered that item. I couldn't see how I could jog with it at my side.

I ate some bread and the rest of the meat. Drank some water, too, and a mouthful of wine. I resumed my journey.

I ran much of the next day - though «day» is something of a misnomer beneath unchanging stippled skies, checkered skies, skies lit by perpetual pinwheels and fountains of light. I ran until I was tired, and I rested and ate and ran some more. I rationed my food, for I'd a feeling I'd have to send far for more and such an act places its own energy demands upon the body. I eschewed shortcuts, for flashy shadows spanning hellruns also have their price and I did not want to be all whacked out when I arrived. I checked behind me often. Usually, I saw nothing suspicious. Occasionally, though, I thought that I glimpsed distant pursuit. Other explanations were possible, however; considering some of the tricks the shadows can play.

I ran until I knew that. I was finally nearing my destination. There came no new disaster followed by an order to turn back. I wondered fleetingly whether this was a good sign, or if the worst were yet to come. Either way, I knew that one more sleep and a little more journeying would put me where I wanted to be. Add a little caution and a few precautions and there might even be reason for optimism.

I ran through a vast, forestlike stand of crystalline shapes. Whether they were truly living things or represented some geological phenomenon; I did not know. They distorted perspectives and made shifting difficult. However, I saw no signs of living things in that glossy, glassy place, which led me to consider making my final campsite there.

I brake off a number of the limbs and drove them into the pink ground, which had the consistency of partly set putty. I constructed a circular palisade standing to about shoulder-height, myself at its center. I unwound Frakir from my wrist then voiced the necessary instructions as I paced her atop my rough and shining wall.

Frakir elongated, stretching herself as thin as a thread and twining among the shardlike branches. I felt safe. I did not believe anything could cross that barrier without Frakir's springing loose and twining herself to deathly tightness about it.

I spread my cloak, lay down, and slept. For how long, I am not certain. And I recall no dreams. There were no disturbances either.

When I woke I moved my head to reorient it, but the view was the same. In every direction but down the view was filled with interwoven crystal branches. I climbed slowly to my feet and pressed against them. Solid. They had become a glass cage.

Although I was able to break off some lesser branches, these were mainly from overhead, and it did nothing to work my release. Those which I had planted initially had thickened considerably, having apparently rooted themselves solidly. They would not yield to my strongest kicks.

The damned thing infuriated me. I swung my blade and glassy chips flew all about. I muffled my face with my cloak then and swung several times more. Then I noticed that my hand felt wet. When I looked at it, I saw that it was running with blood. Some of those splinters were very sharp. I desisted with the blade and returned to kicking at my enclosure. The walls creaked occasionally aid made chiming noises, but they held.

I am not normally claustrophobic and my life was not in imminent peril, but something about this shining prison annoyed me out of all proportion to the situation itself. I raged for perhaps ten minutes before I forced myself to sufficient calmness that I might think clearly.

I studied the tangle until I discerned the uniform color and texture of Frakir running through it. I placed my fingertips upon her and spoke an order. Her brightness increased. and she ran through the spectrum and settled into a red glow. The first creaking sound occurred a few seconds later.

I quickly withdrew to the center of the enclosure and wrapped myself fully in my cloak. If I crouched, I decided; some of the overhead pieces would fall a greater distance, striking me with more force. So I stood upright, protecting my head and neck with my arms and hands as well as with the cloak.

The creaking sounds became cracking sounds, followed by rattling, snapping, breaking. I was suddenly struck across the shoulder, but I maintained my footing.

Ringing and crunching, the edifice began to fall about me. I held my ground, though I was struck several times more.

When the sounds ceased and I looked again I saw that the roof had been removed, and I stood calf deep amid fallen branches of the hard, corallike material. Several of the side members had splintered off at near to ground level. Others now stood at unnatural angles, and this time a few wellplaced kicks brought them down.

My cloak was torn in a number of places, and Frakir coiled now about my left ankle and began to migrate to my wrist. 'The stuff crunched underfoot as I departed.

I shook out my cloak and brushed myself off. I traveled for perhaps half an hour then, leaving the place far behind me, before I halted and took my breakfast in a hot, bleak valley smelling faintly of sulfur.

As I was finishing, I heard a crashing noise. A horned and tusked purple thing went racing along the ridge to my right pursued by a hairless orange-skinned creature with long claws and a forked tail. Both were wailing in different keys.

I nodded. It was just one damned thing after another.

I made my way through frozen lands and burning lands, under skies both wild and placid. Then at last, hours later, I saw the low range of dark hills, and aurora streaming upward from behind them. That was it. I needed but approach and pass through and I would see my goal beyond the last and most difficult barrier of all.

I moved ahead. It would be good to finish this job and get on with more important matters. I would trump back to Amber when I was finished there, rather than retracing my steps. I could not have trumped in to my destination, though, because the place could not be represented on a card.

In that I was jogging, I first thought that the vibrations were my own. I was disabused of this notion when small pebbles began to roll aimlessly about the ground before me. Why not?

I'd been hit with just about everything else. It was as if my strange nemesis were working down through a checklist and had just now come to «Earthquake.» All right. At least there was nothing high near at hand to fall on me.

«Enjoy yourself, you son of a bitch!» I called out. «One day real soon it won't be so funny!»

As if in response the shaking grew more violent, and I had to halt or be thrown from my feet. As I watched; the ground began to subside in places, tilt in still others. I looked about quickly, trying to decide whether to advance, retreat, or stay put. Small fissures had begun to open, and now I could hear a growling, grinding sound.

The earth dropped abruptly beneath me - perhaps six inches - and the nearest crevices widened. I turned and began sprinting back the way I had come. The ground seemed less disturbed there.

A mistake perhaps. A particularly violent tremor followed, knocking me from my feet. Before I could rise a large crack appeared within reaching distance. It continued to widen even as I watched. I sprang to my feet, leapt across it, stumbled, rose again, and beheld another opening riftwidening more rapidly than the one I had been fleeing.

I sprang once more, onto a tilting tabletop of land. The ground seemed torn everywhere now with the dark lightning strokes of rifts, heaving themselves open widely to the accompaniment of awful groans and screechings. Big sections of ground slipped from sight into abysses. My small island was already going.

I leaped again, and again, trying to make it over to what appeared to be a more stable area.

I didn't quite manage it. I missed my footing and fell. But I managed to catch hold of the edge. I dangled a moment then and began to draw myself upward. The edge began to crumble. I clawed at it and caught a fresh hold. Then I dangled again, coughing and cursing.

I sought for footholds in the clay wall against which I hung. It yielded somewhat beneath the thrusting of my boots and I dug in, blinking dirt from my eyes, trying for a firmer hold overhead. I could feel Frakir loosening, tightening into a small loop, one end free and flowing over my knuckles, hopefully to locate something sufficiently firmset to serve as an anchor.

But no. My lefthand hold gave way again. I clung with my right and groped for another. Loose earth fell about me as I failed, and my right hand was beginning to slip.

Dark shadow above me, through dust and swimming eyes.

My right hand fell loose. I thrust with my legs for another try.

My right wrist was clasped as it sped upward and forward once again. A big hand with a powerful grip held me. Moments later, it was joined by another and I was drawn upward, quickly, smoothly. I was over the edge and seeking my footing in an instant. My wrist was released. I wiped my eyes.

«Luke!»

He was dressed in green, and blades must not have bothered him the way they do me, for a good-sized one hung at his right side. He seemed to be using a rolled cloak for a backpack, and he wore its clasp like a decoration upon his left breast - an elaborate thing, a golden bird of some son.

«This way,» he said, turning, and I followed him.

He led me a course back and to the left, tangent to the route I had taken on entering the valley. The footing grew steadier as we hurried that way, mounting at last a low hill that seemed completely out of range in the disturbance. Here we paused to look back.

«Come no farther!» a great voice boomed from that direction.

«Thanks, Luke,» I panted. «I don't know how you're here or why but -»

He raised a hand.

«Right now I just want to know one thing,» he said, rubbing at a short beard he seemed to have grown in an amazingly brief time, and causing me to note that he was wearing the ring with the blue stone.

«Name it,» I told him.

«How come whatever it was that just spoke has your voice?» he asked.

«Uh-oh. I knew it sounded familiar.»

«Come on!» he said. «You must know. Every time you're threatened and it warns you back it's your voice that I hear doing it - echolike.»

«How long have you been following me, anyhow?»

«Quite a distance.»

«Those dead creatures outside the cleft where I' d camped -»

«I took them out for you. Where are you going, and what is that thing?»

«Right now I have only suspicions as to exactly what's going on, and it's a long story. But the answer should lie beyond that next range of hills.»

I gestured toward the aurora.

He stared off in that direction, then nodded.

«Let's get going,» he said.

«There is an earthquake in progress,» I observed,…

«It seems pretty much confined to this valley,» he stated. «We can cut around it and proceed.»

«And quite possibly encounter its continuance.»

He shook his head.

«It seems to me,» he said, «that whatever it is that's trying to bar your way exhausts itself after each effort and takes quite a while to recover sufficiently to make another attempt.»

«But the attempts are getting closer together,» I noted, «and more spectacular each time.»

«Is it because we're getting closer to their source?» he asked.

«Possibly.»

«Then let's hurry.»

We descended the far side of the hill, then went up and down another. The tremors, by that time, had already subsided to an occasional shuddering of the ground and shortly these, too, ceased.

We made our way into and along another valley, which for a while headed us far to the right of our goal, then curved gently back in the proper direction, toward the final range of barren hills, lights flickering beyond them against the low, unmoving base of a cloudlike line of white under a mauve to violet sky. No fresh perils were presented.

«Luke,» I asked after a time, «what happened on the mountain, that night in New Mexico?»

«I had to go away - fast,» he answered.

«What about Dan Martinez's body?»

«Took it with me.»

«Why?»

«I don't like leaving evidence lying about.»

«That doesn't really explain much.»

«I know,» he said, and he broke into a jog. I paced him.

«And you know who I am,» I continued.

«Yes.»

«How?»

«Not now,» he said. «Not now.»

He increased his pace. I matched it. «And why were you following me?»

«I saved your ass, didn't I?»

«Yeah, and I'm grateful. But it still doesn't answer the question.»

«Race you to that leaning stone,» he said, and he put on a burst of speed.

I did, too, and I caught him. Try as I could I couldn't pass him, though. And we were breathing too hard by then to ask or answer questions.

I pushed myself, ran faster. He did, too, keeping up. The leaning stone was still a good distance off. We stayed side by side and I saved my reserve for the final sprint. It was crazy, but I'd run against him too many times. It was almost a matter of habit by now. That, and the old curiosity. Had he gotten a little faster? Had I? Or a little slower?

My arms pumped, my feet thudded. I got control of my breathing, maintained it in an appropriate rhythm. I edged a little ahead of him and he did nothing about it. The stone was suddenly a lot nearer.

We held our distance for perhaps half a minute, and then he cut loose. He was abreast of me, he was past me. Time to dig in.

I drove my legs faster. The blood thudded in my ears. I sucked air and pushed with everything I had. The distance between us began to narrow again. The leaning rock was looking bigger and bigger…

I caught him before we reached it, but try as I might I could not pull ahead. We raced past it side by side and collapsed together.

«Photo finish,» I gasped.

«Got to call it a tie,» he paused. «You always surprise me - right at the end.»

I groped out my water bottle and passed it to him. He took a swig and handed it back. We emptied it that way, a little at a time.

«Damn,» he said then, getting slowly to his feet. «Let's see what's over those hills.»

I got up and went along.

When I finally recovered my breath the first thing I said was, «You seem to know a hell of a lot more about me than I do about you.»

«I think so,» he said after a long pause, «and I wish I didn't.»

«What does that mean?»

«Not now,» he replied. «Later. You don't read War and Peace on your coffee break.»

«I don't understand.»

«Time,» he said. «There's always either too much time or not enough. Right now there's not enough.»

«You've lost me.»

«Wish I could.»

The hills were nearer and the ground remained firm beneath our feet. We trudged steadily onward.

I thought of Bill's guesswork, Random's suspicions, and Meg Devlin's warning. I also thought of that round of strange ammunition I'd found in Luke's jacket.

«That thing we're heading toward,» he said, before I could frame a fresh question of my own. «That's your Ghostwheel, isn't it?»

«Yes.»

He laughed. Then: «So you were telling the truth back in Santa Fe when you told me it required a peculiar environment. What you didn't say was that you'd found that environment and built the thing there.»

I nodded. «What about your plans for a company?» I asked him.

«That was just to get you to talk about it.»

«And what about Dan Martinez - the things he said?»

«I don't know. I really didn't know him. I still don't know what he wanted, or why he came at us shooting.»

«Luke, what is it that you want, anyhow?»

«Right now I just want to see that damned thing,» he said. «Did building it out here in the boonies endow it with some sort of special properties?»

«Yes.»

«Like what?»

«Like a few I didn't even think of - unfortunately,» I answered.

«Name one.»

«Sorry,» I said. «Question and answer is a two-way game.»

«Hey, I'm the guy who just pulled you out of a hole in the ground.»

«I gather you're also the guy who tried to kill me on a bunch of April thirtieths.»

«Not recently,» he said. «Honest.»

«You mean you really did?»

«Well… yeah. But I had reasons. It's a long story and -»

«Jesus, Luke! Why? What did I ever do to you?»

«It's not that simple,» he answered.

We reached the base of the nearest hill and he started climbing it.

«Don't,» I called to him. «You can't go over.»

He halted.

«Why not?»

«The atmosphere ends thirty or forty fit up.»

«You're kidding.»

I shook my head.

«And it's worse on the other side,» I added. «We have to find a passage through. There's one farther to the left.»

I turned and headed in that direction. Shortly, I heard his footfalls.

«So you gave it your voice,» he said.

«So?»

«So I see what you're up to and what's been going on. It's become sentient in that crazy place you built it. It went wild, and you're heading to shut it down. It knows it and it's got the power to do something about it - It's your Ghostwheel that's been trying to get you to turn back, isn't it?»

«Probably»

«Why didn't you just trump in?»

«You can't construct a Trump for a place that keeps changing. What do you know about Trumps, anyway?»

«Enough,» he said.

I saw the passage I was seeking up ahead.

I approached the place and I halted before I entered it.

«Luke,» I said, «I don't know what you want or why or how you got here, and you don't seem to care to tell me. I will tell you something for free, though. This could be very dangerous. Maybe you ought to go back to wherever you came from and let me handle it. There's no reason to place you in jeopardy.»

«I think there is,» he said. «Besides, I might be useful.»

«How?»

He shrugged.

«Let's get on with it, Merlin. I want to see that thing.»

«Okay. Come on.»

I led the way into the narrow place where the stone had been riven.

Chapter 10

The passage was long and dark and occasionally tight, growing progressively colder as we advanced, but at length we emerged onto the wide, rocky shelf that faced the steaming pit. There was an ammonialike odor in the air, and my feet were cold and my face flushed, as usual. I blinked hard several times, studying the latest outlines of the maze through the shifting mist. A pearl-gray pall hung over the entire area. Intermittent orange flashes penetrated the gloom.

«Uh - where is it?» Luke inquired.

I gestured straight ahead, toward the site of the latest flicker.

«Out there,» I told him.

Just then, the mists were swept away, revealing isle upon isle of dark, smooth ridges separated by black declivities. The ridges zigged and zagged their way out toward a fortresslike island, a low wall running about it, several metallic structures visible beyond.

«It's a maze,» he remarked. «Do we travel it down in the passages or up on top of the walls?»

I smiled as he studied it.

«It varies,» I said. «Sometimes up and sometimes down.»

«Well, which way do we go?»

«I don't know yet. I have to study it each time. You see, it keeps changing, and there's a trick to it.»

«A trick?»

«Mere than one, actually. The whole damn thing is floating on a lake of liquid hydrogen and helium. The maze moves around. It's different each time. And then there's a matter of the atmosphere. If you were to walk upright along the ridges you would be above it in most places. You wouldn't last long. And the temperature ranges from horribly cold to roasting hot over a range of a few feet in elevation. You have to know when to crawl and when to climb and when to do other things - as well as which way to go.»

«How do you tell?»

«Un-uh,» I said. «I'll take you in, but I'm not giving you the secret.»

The mists began to rise again from the depths and to collect into small clouds.

«I see now why you can't make a Trump for it,» he began.

I continued to study the layout.

«All right,» I said then. «This way.»

«What if it attacks us while we're in the maze?» he asked.

«You can stay behind if you want.»

«No. Are you really going to shut it down?»

«I'm not sure. Come on.»

I took several steps ahead and to the right. A faint circle of light appeared in the air before me; grew brighter. I felt Luke's hand upon my shoulder.

«What -?» he began.

«No farther!» the voice I now recognized as my own said to me.

«I think we can work something out,» I responded. «I have several ideas and -»

«No!» it answered. «I heard what Random said.»

«I am prepared to disregard his order;» I said, «if there is a better alternative.»

«You're trying to trick me. You want to shut me down.»

«You're making things worse with all these power displays,» I said. «I'm coming in now and -»

«No!»

A heavy gust of wind blew out of the circle and struck against me: I was staggered by it. I saw my sleeve turn brown, then orange. It began to fray even as I watched.

«What are you doing? I have to talk to you, explain -»

«Not here! Not now! Never!»

I was hurled back against Luke, who caught me, dropping to one knee as he did so. An arctic blast assailed us and icy crystals danced before my eyes. Bright colors began to flash then, half blinding me.

«Stop!» I cried, but nothing did.

The ground seemed to tilt beneath us and suddenly there was no ground. It did not feel as if we were falling, however. It seemed rather as if we hung suspended in the midst of a blizzard of light.

«Stop!» I called out once again, but the words were swept away.

The circle of light vanished, as if retreating down a long tunnel. I realized, however, through the sensory overload, that it was Luke and I who were receding from the light, that we had already been blasted a great enough distance to drive us halfway through the hill. But there was nothing solid in any direction about us.

A faint buzzing sound began. It grew into a humming, then a dull roar. In the distance, I seemed to see a tiny steam locomotive negotiating a mountainside at an impossible angle, then an upside-down waterfall, a skyline beneath green waters. A park bench passed us quickly, a blue-skinned woman seated upon it, clutching at it, a horrified expression on her face.

I dug frantically within my pocket, knowing we might be destroyed at any moment.

«What,» Luke screamed into my ear, his grip now almost dislocating my arm, «is it?».

«Shadow-storm!» I cried back. «Hang on!» I added unnecessarily.

A batlike creature was blown into my face, was gone an instant later, leading a wet slash upon my right cheek. Something struck against my left foot.

An inverted mountain range flowed past us, buckling and rippling. The roaring increased in volume. The light seemed to pulse by us now, in wide bands of color, touching us with a near-physical force. Heat lamps and wind chimes…

I heard Luke cry out as if he had been struck, but I was unable to turn to his aid. We traversed a region of lightninglike flashes where my hair stood on end and my skin ringled.

I gripped the packet of cards within my pocket and withdrew it. At this point we were beginning to spin and I was afraid they would be torn from my hand. I held them tightly, fearing to sort through them, keeping them close to my body. I drew them upward slowly, carefully. Whichever one lay on top would have to be our exit.

Dark bubbles formed and broke about us, discharging noxious fumes.

I saw, as I raised my hand, that my skin was gray in appearance, sparkling with fluorescent swirls. Luke's hand upon my arm looked cadaverous, and when I glanced back at him a grinning death's head met my gaze.

I looked away, turned my attention back to the cards. It was hard to focus my vision, through the grayness, through a peculiar distancing effect. But it finally came clear: It was the grassy spit of land I had regarded- how long ago? - quiet waters about it, the edge of something- crystalline and bright jutting into view off toward the right.

I held it within my attention. Sounds from beyond my shoulder indicated that Luke was trying to address me, but I could not distinguish his words. I continued to regard the Trump and it grew clearer. But slowly, slowly Something struck me hard, below the right side of my rib cage. I forced myself to ignore it and continued to concentrate.

At last the scene on the card seemed to move toward me, to grow larger. There was a familiar sense of coldness to it now as the scene engulfed me and I it. An almost elegiac feeling of stillness hung over that little lake.

I fell forward into the grass, my heart pounding, my side throbbing. I was gasping, and the subjective sense of worlds rushing by me was still present, like the afterimages of highways upon closing one's eyes at the end of a long day's drive.

Smelling sweet water, I passed out.

I was vaguely aware of being dragged, carried, then helped, stumbling along. 'There followed a spell of full unconsciousness, shading over into sleep and dreaming.

…I walked the streets of a ruined Amber beneath a lowering sky. A crippled angel with a fiery sword stalked the heights above me, slashing. Wherever its blade fell, smoke, dust, and flame rose up. Its halo was my Ghostwheel, pouring forth mighty winds ridden by abominations that streamed past the angel's face like a dark, living veil, working disorder and ruin wherever they fell. The palace was half collapsed, and there were gibbets nearby where my relatives hung, twisting in the gusts. I'd a blade in one hand and Frakir dangled from the other. I was climbing now, going up to meet and do battle with the bright-dark nemesis. An awful feeling lay upon me as I mounted my rocky way, as if my imminent failure was a thing foregone. Even so, I decided, the creature was going to leave here with wounds to lick.

It took note of me as I drew near, turning in my direction. Its face was still hidden as it raised its weapon. I rushed forward, regretting only that I had not had time to envenom my blade. I spun twice as I went in, feinting, to strike somewhere in the vicinity of its left knee.

There followed a flash of light and I was falling, falling, bits of flame descending about me, like a burning blizzard. I fell so for what seemed an age and a half, coming to rest at last upon my back atop a large stone table marked out like a sundial, its stylus barely missing impaling mewhich seemed crazy even in a dream. There were no sundials in the Courts of Chaos, for there is no sun there. I was located at the edge of a courtyard beside a high, dark tower, and I found myself unable to move, let alone rise. Above me, my mother, Dara, stood upon a low balcony in her natural form, looking down at me in her awful power and beauty.

«Mother!» I cried. «Free me!»

«I have sent one to help you,» she answered.

«And what of Amber?»

«I do not know.»

«And my father?»

«Speak not to me of the dead.»

The stylus turned slowly; positioned itself above my throat; began a gradual but steady descent.

«Help me!» I cried. «Hurry!»

«Where are you?» she called out, head turning, eyes daring. «Where have you gone?»

«I'm still here!» I yelled.

«Where are you?»

I felt the stylus touch the side of my neck -

The vision broke and fell apart.

My shoulders were propped against something unyielding, my legs were stretched out before me. Someone had just squeezed my shoulder, the hand brushing against my neck.

«Merle, you okay? Want a drink?» a familiar voice was, asking.

I took a deep breath and sighed it out. I blinked several times. The light was blue, the world a field of lines and angles. A dipper of water appeared before my mouth.

«Here.» It was Luke's voice.

I drank it all.

«Want another?»

«Yes.»

«Just a minute.»

I felt his weight shift, heard his footsteps recede. I regarded the diffusely illuminated wall six or seven feet before me.

I ran my hand along the floor. It seemed to be of the same material.

Shortly, Luke returned, smiling, and passed me the dipper. I drained it and handed it back.

«Want more?» he asked.

«No. Where are we?»

«In a cave - a big, pretty place.»

«Where'd you get the water?»

«In a side cavern, up that way.» He gestured. «Several barrels of it in there. Also lots of food. Want something to eat?»

«Not yet. Are you okay?»

«Kind of beat,» he replied, «but intact. You don't seem to have any broken bones, and that cut on your face has stopped bleeding.»

«That's something, anyway,» I said.

I climbed slowly to my feet; the final strands of dreams withdrawing slowly as I rose. I saw then that Luke had turned and was walking away. I followed him for several paces before I thought to inquire, «Where are you going?»

«In there,» he answered, pointing with the dipper.

I followed him through an opening in the wall and into a cold cavern about the size of my old apartment's living room. Four large wooden barrels stood along the wall to my left, and Luke proceeded to hang the dipper upon the upper edge of the nearest. Against the far wall were great stacks of cartons and piles of sacks.

«Canned goods,» he announced. «Fruit; vegetables, ham, salmon, biscuits, sweets. Several cases of wine. A Coleman stove. Plenty of Stereo. Even a bottle or two of cognac.»

He turned and brushed quickly past me, headed on up the hall again.

«Now where?» I asked.

But he was moving fast and did not reply. I had to hurry to catch up. We passed several branches and openings before he halted at another, nodding.

«Latrine in there. Just a hole with some boards over it. Good idea to keep it covered, I'd say.»

«What the hell is this?» I asked.

He raised his hand. «It will all become clear in a minute. This way.»

He swung around a sapphire corner and vanished. Almost completely disoriented, I moved in that direction. After several turns and one cutback, I felt totally lost. Luke was nowhere in sight.

I halted and listened. Not a sound except for my own breathing.

«Luke! Where are you?» I called.

«Up here,» he answered.

The voice seemed to be coming from overhead and somewhere off to my right. I ducked beneath a low arch and came into a bright blue chamber of the same crystalline substance as the rest of the place. I saw a sleeping bag and a pillow in one comer. Light streamed in from a small opening about eight feet overhead.

«Luke?» I asked again.

«Here,» came his reply.

I moved to position myself beneath the hole, squinting against the brightness as I stared upward. Finally, I shaded my eyes. Luke's head and shoulders was limned above me, his hair a crown of coppery flame in what could be the light of early morning or of evening. He was smiling again.

«That, I take it, is the way out,» I said.

«For me,» he answered.

«What do you mean?»

There followed a grating noise and the view was partly occluded by the edge of a large boulder.

«What are you doing?»

«Moving this stone into a position where I can block the opening quickly,» he replied, «and stick in a few wedges afterward.»

«Why?»

«There are sufficient tiny openings for air so that you shan't suffocate,» he went on.

«Great. Why am I here, anyway?»

«Let's not get existential just now,» he said. «This isn't a philosophy seminar.»

«Luke! Damn it! What's going on?»

«It should be obvious that I'm making you a prisoner,» he said. «The blue crystal, by the way, will block any Trump sendings and negate your magical abilities that rely on things beyond the walls. I need you alive and fangless for now, in a place where I can get to you in a hurry.»

I studied the opening and the nearby walls.

«Don't try it,» he said. «I have the advantage of position.»

«Don't you think you owe me an explanation?»

He stared at me for a moment, then nodded.

«I have to go back,» he said finally, «and try to get control of the Ghostwheel. Any suggestions?»

I laughed. «It's not on the best of terms with me at the moment. I'm afraid I can't help you.»

He nodded again. «I'll just have to see what I can do. God, what a weapon! If I can't swing it myself I'll have to come back and pick your brains for some ideas. You be thinking about it, okay?»

«I'll be thinking about a lot of things, Luke. You're not going to like some of them.»

«You're not in a position to do much.»

«Not yet,» I said.

He caught hold of the boulder, began to move it.

«Luke!» I cried.

He paused, studied me, his expression changing to one I had never seen before.

«That's not really my name,» he stated, after a moment.

«What, then?»

«I am your cousin Rinaldo,» he said slowly. «I killed Caine, and I came close with Bleys. I missed with the bomb at the funeral, though. Someone spotted me. I will destroy the House of Amber with or without your Ghostwheel - but it would make things a lot easier if I had that kind of power.»

«What's your bitch, Luke?… Rinaldo? Why the vendetta?»

«I went after Caine first,» he continued, «because he's the one who actually killed my father.»

«I - didn't know.» I stared at the flash of the Phoenix clasp upon his breast. «I didn't know that Brand had a son,» I finally said.

«You do now, old buddy. That's another reason why I can't let you go, and why I have to keep you in a place like this. Don't want you warning the others.»

«You're not going to be able to pull this off.»

He was silent for several seconds, then he shrugged.

«Win or lose, I have to try.»

«Why April 30?» I said suddenly. «Tell me that.»

«It was the day I got the news of my dad's death.»

He drew upon the boulder and it slid into the hole, blocking it fully. There followed some brief hammerings.

«Luke!»

He did not answer. I could see his shadow through the translucent stone. After a while it straightened, then dropped from sight. I heard his boots strike the ground outside. «Rinaldo!»

He did not answer and I heard his retreating footsteps.

I count the days by the lightening and darkening of the blue crystal walls. It has been over a month since my imprisonment, though I do not know how slowly or rapidly time flows here in relation to other shadows. I have paced every hall and chamber of this great cave, but I have found no way out. My Trumps do not work here, not even the Trumps of Doom. My magic is useless to me, limited as it is by walls the color of Luke's ring. I begin to feel that I might enjoy even the escape of temporary insanity, but my reason refuses to surrender to it, there being too many puzzles to trouble me: Dan Martinez, Meg Devlin, my Lady of the Lake… Why? And why did he spend all of that time in my company, Luke, Rinaldo, my enemy? I have to find a way to warn the others. If he succeeds in turning Ghostwheel upon them then Brand's dream - my nightmare of vengeance - will be realized. I see now that I have made many mistakes… Forgive me, Julia… I will pace the measure of my confinement yet again. Somewhere there must be a gap in the icy blue logic that surrounds me, against which I hurl my mind, my cries, my bitter laughter. Up this hall, down the tunnel. The blue is everywhere. The shadows will not bear me away, for there are no shadows here. I am Merlin the pent, son of Corwin the lost, and my dream of light has been turned against me. I stalk my prison like my own ghost. I cannot let it end this way. Perhaps the next tunnel, or the next…

Reflections in a Crystal Cave

My life had been relatively peaceful for eight years - not counting April thirtieths, when someone invariably tried to kill me. Outside of that, my academic career with its concentration on computer science went well enough and my four years employment at Grand Design proved a rewarding experience, letting me use what I'd learned in a situation I liked while I labored on a project of my own on the side. I had a good friend in Luke Raynard, who worked for the same company, in sales. I sailed my little boat, I jogged regularly.

It all fell apart this past April 30, just when I thought things were about to come together. My pet project, Ghostwheel, was built; I'd quit my job, packed my gear and was ready to move on to greener shadows. I'd stayed in town this long only because that morbidly fascinating day was near, and this time I intended to discover who was behind the attempts on my life and why.

At breakfast that morning Luke appeared with a message from my former girlfriend, Julia. Her note said that she wanted to see me again. So I stopped by her place, where I found her dead, apparently killed by the same doglike beast which then attacked me. I succeeded in destroying the creature. A quick search of the apartment before I fled the scene fumed up a slim packet of strange playing cards, which I took along with me.

They were too much like the magical Tarots of Amber and Chaos for a sorcerer such as myself not to be interested in them.

Yes. I am a sorcerer. I am Merlin, son of Corwin of Amber and Dara of the Courts of Chaos, known to local friends and acquaintances as Merle Corey: bright, charming, witty, athletic… Go read Castiglione and Lord Byron for particulars, as I'm modest, aloof and reticent, as well.

The cards proved to be genuine magical objects, which seemed appropriate once I learned that Julia had been keeping company with an occultist named Victor Melman after we had broken up. A visit to this gentleman's studio resulted in his attempting to kill me in a ritual fashion. I was able to free myself from the constraints of the ceremony and question him somewhat, before local conditions and my enthusiasm resulted in his death. So much for rituals.

I'd learned enough from him to realize that he'd been but a cat's-paw. Someone else had apparently put him up to the sacrifice bit - and it seemed quite possible that the other person was the one responsible for Julia's death and my collection of memorable April thirtieths.

I had small time to reflect upon these matters, though, because I was bitten (yes, bitten) shortly thereafter by an attractive red-haired woman who materialized in Melman's apartment, following my brief telephone conversation with her in which I'd tried to pose as Melman. Her bite paralyzed me, but I was able to depart before it took full effect by employing one of the magical cards I'd found at Julia's place. It bore me into the presence of a sphinx, which permitted me to recover so that it could play that silly riddle game sphinxes love so well because they get to eat you when you lose. All I can say about it is that this particular sphinx was a bad sport.

Anyhow, I returned to the shadow Earth where I'd been making my home to discover that Melman's place had burned down during my absence. I tried phoning Luke, because I wanted to have dinner with him, and learned that he had checked out of his motel, leaving me a message indicating that he had gone to New Mexico on business and telling me where he'd be staying. The desk clerk also gave me a blue-stone ring Luke had left behind, and I took it with me to return when I saw him.

I Sew to New Mexico, finally catching up with Luke in Santa Fe. While I waited in the bar for him to get ready for dinner, a man named Dan Martinez questioned me, giving the impression that Luke had proposed some business deal and that he wanted to be assured Luke was reliable and could deliver. After dinner, Luke and I went for a drive in the mountains.

Martinez followed us and started shooting as we stood admiring the night. Perhaps he'd decided Luke was not reliable or couldn't deliver. Luke surprised me by drawing a weapon of his own and shooting Martinez. Then an even stranger thing happened. Luke called me by name - my real name, which I'd never told him - and cited my parentage and told me to get into the car and get the hell out. He emphasized his point by placing a shot in the ground near my feet. The matter did not seem open to discussion so I departed. He also told me to destroy those strange Trumps that had saved my life once already. And I'd learned on the way up that he'd known Victor Melman…

I didn't go far. I parked downhill and returned on foot. Luke was gone. So was Martinez s body. Luke did not return to the hotel, that night or the next day, so I checked out and departed. The only person I was sure I could trust, and who actually might have some good advice for me, was Bill Roth. Bill was an attorney who lived in upstate New York, and he had been my father's best friend. I went to visit him, and I told him my story.

Bill got me to wondering even more about Luke. Luke, by the way, is a big, smart, red-haired natural athlete of uncanny prowess - and though we'd been friends for many years I knew next to nothing (as Bill pointed out) concerning his background.

A neighboring lad named George Hansen began hanging out near Bill's place, asking strange questions. I received an odd phone call, asking similar questions. Both interrogators seemed curious as to my mother's name. Naturally, I lied. The fact that my mother is a member of the dark aristocracy of the Courts of Chaos was none of their business. But the caller spoke my language, Thari, which made me curious enough to propose a meeting and a trade-off of information that evening in the bar of the local country club.

But my Uncle Random, King of Amber, called me home before that, while Bill and I were out hiking. George Hansen, it turned out, was following us and wanted to come along as we shifted away across the shadows of reality. Tough; he wasn't invited. I took Bill along because I didn't want to leave him with anyone acting that peculiar.

I learned from Random that my Uncle Caine was dead, of an assassin's bullet, and that someone had also tried to kill my Uncle Bleys but only succeeded in wounding him. The funeral service for Caine would be the following day.

I kept my date at the country club that evening, but my mysterious interrogator was nowhere in sight. All was not lost, however, as I made the acquaintance of a pretty lady named Meg Devlin - and, one thing leading to another, I saw her home and we got to know each other a lot better. Then, at a moment when I would have judged her thoughts to be anywhere but there, she asked me my mother's name. So, what the hell, I told her. It did not come to me until later that she might really have been the person I'd gone to the bar to meet.

Our liaison was terminated prematurely by a call from the lobby - from a man purportedly Meg's husband. I did what any gentleman would do. I got the hell out fast.

My Aunt Fiona, who is a sorceress (of a different style from my own), had not approved of my date. And apparently she approved even less of Luke, because she asked me whether I had a picture of him after I'd told her somewhat concerning him. I showed her a photo I had in my wallet, which included Luke in the group. I'd have sworn she recognized him from somewhere, though she wouldn't admit it. But the fact that she and her brother Bleys both disappeared from Amber that night would seem more than coincidental.

The pace of events was accelerated even more after that. A crude attempt at knocking off most of the family with a thrown bomb was made the next day, following Caine's funeral. The would-be assassin escaped. Later, Random was upset at a brief demonstration on my part of the power of the Ghostwheel, my pet project, my hobby, my avocation during those years at Grand Design. Ghostwheel is a - well, it started out as a computer that required a different set of physical laws to operate than those I'd learned in school. It involved what might be called magic. But I found a place where it could be built and operated, and I'd constructed it there. It was still programming itself when I'd left it. It seemed to have gone sentient, and I think it scared Random. He ordered me to go and turn it off. I didn't much like the idea, but I departed.

I was followed in my passage through Shadow; I was harassed, threatened and even attacked. I was rescued from a fire by a strange lady who later died in a lake. I was protected from vicious beasts by a mysterious individual and saved from a bizarre earthquake by the same person - who turned out to be Luke. He accompanied me to the final barrier, for a confrontation with Ghostwheel. My creation was a bit irritated with me and banished us by means of a shadow-storm - a thing it is not fun to be caught in, with or without an umbrella. I delivered us from the vicissitudes by means of one of the Trumps of Doom, as I'd dubbed the odd pasteboards from Julia's apartment.

We wound up outside a blue crystal cave, and Luke took me in. Good old Luke. After seeing to my needs he proceeded to imprison me. When he told me who he was, I realized that it was a resemblance to his father which had upset Fiona when she'd seen his photo. For Luke was the son of Brand, assassin and arch traitor, who had damn near destroyed the kingdom and the rest of the universe along with it some years back. Fortunately, Caine had killed him before he'd accomplished his designs. Luke, I learned then, was the one who'd killed Caine, to avenge his father. (And it turned out he'd gotten the news of his father's death on an April thirtieth and had had a peculiar way of observing its anniversary over the years.) Like Random, he too had been impressed by my Ghostwheel, and he told me that I was to remain his prisoner, as I might become necessary in his eforts to gain control of the machine, which he felt would be the perfect weapon for destroying the rest of the family.

He departed to pursue the matter, and I quickly discovered that my powers were canceled by some peculiar property of the cave, leaving me with no one to talk to but you, Frakir, and no one here for you to strangle…

Would you care to hear a few bars of «Over the Rainbow»?

Chapter 1

I threw the hilt away after the blade had shattered. The weapon had done me no good against that blue sea of a wall in what I had taken to be its thinnest section. A few small chips of stone lay at my feet. I picked them up and rubbed them together. This was not the way out for me. The only way out seemed to be the way I had come in, and it wasn't working.

I walked back to my quarters, meaning that section of the caves where I had cast my sleeping bag. I sat down on the bag, a heavy brown one, uncorked a wine bottle and took a drink. I had worked up a sweat hacking away at the wall.

Frakir stirred upon my wrist then, unwound herself partway and slithered into the palm of my left hand, to coil around the two blue chips I still held. She knotted herself about them, then dropped to hang and swing pendulum-like. I put the bottle aside and watched. The arc of her swing paralleled the lengthwise direction of the tunnel I now called home. The swinging continued for perhaps a full minute. Then she withdrew upward, halting when she came to the back of my hand. She released the chips at the base of my third finger and returned to her normal hidden position about my wrist.

I stared. I raised the flickering oil lamp and studied the stones. Their color…

Yes.

Seen against skin, they were similar in appearance to the stone in that ring of Luke's I had picked up at the New Line Motel some time ago. Coincidence? Or was there a connection? What had my strangling cord been trying to tell me? And where had I seen another such stone?

Luke's key ring. He'd a blue stone on it, mounted on a piece of metal… And where might I have seen another?

The caverns in which I was imprisoned had the power to block the Trumps and my Logrus magic. If Luke carried stones from these walls about with him, there was probably a special reason. What other properties might they possess?

I tried for perhaps an hour to learn something concerning their nature, but they resisted my Logrus probes. Finally, disgusted, I pocketed them, ate some bread and cheese and took another swallow of wine.

Then I rose and made the rounds once more, inspecting my traps. I'd been a prisoner in this place for what seemed at least a month now. I had paced all these tunnels, corridors, grottoes, seeking an exit. None of them proved a way out. There were times when I had run manic through them and bloodied my knuckles upon their cold sides. There were times when I had moved slowly, seeking after cracks and fault lines. I had tried on several occasions to dislodge the boulder that barred the entranceway - to no avail. It was wedged in place, and I couldn't budge it. It seemed that I was in for the duration.

My traps…

They were all as they had been the last time I had checked - deadfalls, boulders nature had left lying about in typical careless fashion, propped high and ready now to be released from their wedging when someone tripped any of the shadow-masked lengths of packing cord I'd removed from crates in the storeroom.

Someone? Luke, of course. Who else? He was the one who'd imprisoned me. And if he returned - no, when he returned - the booby traps would be waiting. He was armed. He would have me at a disadvantage from the overhead position of the entrance if I merely waited for him below. No way. I would not be there. I would make him come in after me - and then

Vaguely troubled, I returned to my quarters.

Hands behind my head, I lay there and reviewed my plans. The deadfalls could kill a man, and I did not want Luke dead. This had nothing to do with sentiment, though I had thought of Luke as a good friend until fairly recently - up until the time I learned that he had killed my Uncle

Caine and seemed intent upon destroying the rest of my relatives in Amber as well. This was because Caine had killed Luke's father - my Uncle Brand - a man whom any of the others would gladly have done in also. Yes, Luke - or Rinaldo, as I now knew him - was my cousin, and he had a reason for engaging in one of our in-family vendettas. Still, going after everybody struck me as a bit intemperate.

But neither consanguinity nor sentiment bade me dismantle my traps. I wanted him alive because there were too many things about the entire situation that I did not understand and might never understand were he to perish without telling me.

Jasra… the Trumps of Doom… the means by which I had been tracked so easily through Shadow… the entire story of Luke's relationship with the painter and mad occultist Victor Melman… anything he knew about Julia and her death…

I began again. I dismantled the deadfalls. The new plan was a simple one, and it drew upon something of which I believed Luke had no knowledge.

I moved my sleeping bag to a new position, in the tunnel just outside the chamber whose roof held the blocked entranceway. I shifted some of the food stores there, also. I was determined to remain in its vicinity for as much of the time as possible.

The new trap was a very basic thing: direct and just about unavoidable. Once I'd set it there was nothing to do but wait. Wait, and remember. And plan. I had to warn the others. I had to do something about my Ghostwheel. I needed to find out what Meg Devlin knew. I needed to… lots of things.

I waited. I thought of Shadow storms, dreams, strange Trumps and the Lady in the Lake. After a long spell of drifting, my life had become very crowded in a matter of days. Then this long spell of doing nothing. My only consolation was that this time line probably outpaced most of the others that were important to me right now. My month here might only be a day back in Amber, or even less. If I could deliver myself from this place soon, the trails I wished to follow might still be relatively fresh.

Later, I put out the lamp and went to sleep. Sufficient light filtered through the crystal lenses of my prison, brightening and waning, for me to distinguish day from night in the outside world, and I kept my small series of routines in accord with its rhythms.

During the next three days I read through Melman's diary again - a thing heavy in allusion and low in useful information - and just about succeeded in convincing myself that the Hooded One, as he referred to his visitor and teacher, had probably been Luke. Except for a few references to androgyny, which puzzled me. References to the sacrifice of the Son of Chaos near the end of the volume were something I could take personally, in light of my present knowledge of Melman's having been set up to destroy me. But if Luke had done it, how to explain his ambiguous behavior on the mountain in New Mexico, when he had advised me to destroy the Trumps of Doom and had driven me away almost as if to protect me from something? And then he had admitted to several of the earlier attempts on my life, but denied the later ones. No reason to do that if he were indeed responsible for all of them. What else might be involved? Who else? And how? There were obviously missing pieces to the puzzle, but I felt as if they were minor, as if the smallest bit of new information and the slightest jiggling of the pattern would suddenly cause everything to fall into place, with the emerging picture to be something I should have seen all along.

I might have guessed that the visitation would be by night. I might have, but I didn't. Had it occurred to me, I would have changed my sleep cycle and been awake and alert. Even though I felt fairly confident of my trap's efficiency, every little edge is important in truly crucial matters.

I was deeply asleep, and the grating of rock upon rock was a distant thing. I stirred but slowly as the sounds continued, and it was several seconds more before the proper circuits closed and I realized what was occurring. Then I sat up, my mind still dusty, and moved into a crouch beside the wall of the chamber nearest the entranceway, knuckling my eyes, brushing back my hair, seeking lost alertness on sleep's receding shore.

The first sounds I heard must have accompanied the removal of the wedges, which apparently had entailed some rocking or tipping of the boulder. The continuing sounds were muffled, echoless - external.

So I ventured a quick glance into the chamber. There was no opened adit, showing stars. The overhead vibrations continued. The rocking sounds were now succeeded by a steady crunching, grating noise. A ball of light with a diffuse halo shone through the translucent stone of the chamber's roof. A lantern, I guessed. Too steady to be a torch. And a torch would be impractical under the circumstances.

A crescent of sky appeared, holding two stars near its nether horn. It widened, and I heard the heavy breathing and grunts of what I took to be two men.

My extremities tingled as I felt additional adrenaline doing its biological trick within me. I hadn't counted on Luke's bringing anyone with him. My foolproof plan might not be proof against this - meaning I was the fool.

The boulder rolled more quickly now, and there was not even time for profanity as my mind raced, focused upon a course of action and assumed its appropriate stance.

I summoned the image of the Logrus and it took shape before me. I rose to my feet, still leaning against the wall, and began moving my arms to correspond with the random-seeming movements of two of the eidolon's limbs. By the time I achieved a satisfactory conjunction, the sounds from overhead had ceased.

The opening was now clear. Moments later the light was raised and moved toward it.

I stepped into the chamber and extended my hands. As the men, short and dark, came into view above me my original plan was canceled completely. They both carried unsheathed poignards in their right hands. Neither of them was Luke.

I reached out with my Logrus gauntlets and took hold of each of them by the throat. I squeezed until they collapsed within my grip. I squeezed a little longer, then released them.

As they dropped from sight I hooked the high lip of the entrance with my glowing lines of force and drew myself upward with them. As I reached the opening I paused to recover Frakir, who was coiled about its underside. That had been my trap. Luke, or anyone else, would have been passing through a noose to enter, a noose ready to tighten instantly upon anything moving through.

Now, though…

A trail of fire ran down the slope to my right. The fallen lantern had shattered, its spilled fuel become a burning riwlet. The men I had choked lay sprawled at either hand. The boulder that had blocked this opening rested to the left and somewhat to the rear of me. I remained where I was - head and shoulders above the opening, resting on my elbows - with the image of the Logrus dancing between my eyes, the warm tingling of its power lines yet a part of my arms, Frakir moving from my left shoulder down to my biceps.

It had been almost too easy. I couldn't see Luke trusting a couple of lackeys to question, kill or transport me - whichever of these had been their mission. That is why I had not emerged fully, but scanned the nighted environs from my vantage of relative security.

Prudent, for a change. For someone else shared the night with me. It was sufficiently dark, even with the dwindling fire trail, that my ordinary vision did not serve to furnish me this intelligence. But when I summon the Logrus, the mental set that grants me vision of its image permits me to view other nonphysical manifestations as well.

So it was that I detected such a construct beneath a tree to my left, amid shadows where I would not have seen the human figure before which it hovered. And a strange pattern at that, reminiscent of Amber's own; it turned like a slow pinwheel, extending tendrils of smoke-shot yellow light. These drifted toward me across the night and I watched, fascinated, knowing already what I would do when the moment came.

There were four big ones, and they came on slowly, probing. When they were within several yards of me they halted, gained slack, then struck like cobras. My hands were together and slightly crossed, Logrus limbs extended. I separated them with a single sweeping motion, tilting them slightly forward as I did so. They struck the yellow tendrils, casting them away to be thrown back upon their pattern. I felt a tingling sensation in my forearms as this occurred. Then, using my right-hand extension as if it were a blade,I struck at the now-wavering pattern as if it were a shield. I heard a short sharp cry as that image grew dim, and I struck again quickly, hauled myself out of my hole and started down the slope, my arm aching.

The image - whatever it had been - faded and was gone. By then, however, I could make out more clearly the figure leaning against the tree trunk. It appeared to be that of a woman, though I could not distinguish her features because of some small object she had raised and now held before her near to eye level. Fearing that it was a weapon, I struck at it with a Logrus extension, hoping to knock it from her hand.

I stumbled then, for there was a recoil which jolted my arm with considerable force. It would seem to have been a potent sorcerous object which I had struck. At least I had the pleasure of seeing the lady sway also. She uttered a short cry, too, but she hung on to the object.

A moment later a faint polychrome shimmering began about her form and I realized what the thing was. I had just directed the force of the Logrus against a Trump. I had to reach her now, if only to find out who she was.

But as I rushed ahead I realized that I could not get to her in time. Unless…

I plucked Frakir from my shoulder and past her along the line of the Logrus force, manipulating her in the proper direction and issuing my commands as she flew.

From my new angle of view and by the faint rainbow halo that now surrounded her I finally saw the lady's face. It was Jasra, who had damn near killed me with a bite back in Melman's apartment. In a moment she would be gone, taking with her my chance of obtaining some answers on which my life might depend.

«Jasra!» I cried, trying to break her concentration.

It didn't work, but Frakir did. My strangling cord, glowing silver now, caught her about the throat, whipping out with a free end to lash tightly about the branch that hung near, to Jasra's left.

The lady began to fade, apparently not realizing that it was too late. She couldn't trump out without decapitating herself.

She learned it quickly. I heard her gurgling cry as she stepped back, grew solid, lost her halo, dropped her Trump and clawed at the cord encircling her throat.

I came up beside her, to lay my hand upon Frakir, who uncoiled one end from the tree limb and rewound it about my wrist.

«Good evening, Jasra,» I said, jerking her head back. «Try the poison bite again and you'll need a neck brace. You understand?»

She tried to talk but couldn't. She nodded.

«I'm going to loosen my cord a bit,» I said, «so you can answer my questions.»

I eased Frakir's grip upon her throat. She began coughing, then, and gave me a look that would have turned sand to glass. Her magical construct had faded completely, so I let the Logrus slip away also.

«Why are you after me?» I asked. «What am I to you?»

«Son of perdition!» she said, and she tried to spit at me but her mouth must have been too dry.

I jerked lightly on Frakir and she coughed again. «Wrong answer,» I said. «Try again.»

But she smiled then, her gaze shifting to a point beyond me. I kept the slack out of Frakir and chanced a glance. The air was beginning to shimmer, behind me and to the right, in obvious preparation to someone's trumping in.

I did not feel ready to take on an additional threat at this time, and so I dipped my free hand into my pocket and withdrew a handful of my own Trumps. Flora's was on top. Fine. She'd do.

I pushed my mind toward her, through the feeble light, beyond the face of the card. I felt her distracted attention, followed by a sudden alertness. Then, Yes…?

«Bring me through! Hurry!» I said.

«Is it an emergency?» she asked.

«You'd better believe it,» I told her.

«Uh - okay. Come on.»

I had an image of her in bed. It grew clearer, clearer. She extended her hand.

I reached out and took it. I moved forward just as I heard Luke's voice ring out, crying, «Stop!»

I continued on through, dragging Jasra after me. She tried to draw back and succeeded in halting me as I stumbled against the side of the bed. It was then I noted the dark-haired, bearded man regarding me with wide eyes from the bed's farther side.

«Who-? What-?» he began as I smiled bleakly and regained my balance.

Luke's shadowy form came into view beyond my prisoner. He reached forward and seized Jasra's arm, drawing her back away from me. She made a gurgling noise as the movement drew Frakir more tightly about her throat.

Damn! What now?

Flora rose suddenly, her face contorted, the scented lavender sheet falling away as she drove a fist forward with surprising speed.

«You bitch!» she cried. «Remember me?»

The blow fell upon Jasra's jaw, and I barely managed to free Frakir in time to keep from being dragged backward with her into Luke's waiting arms.

Both of them faded, and the shimmer was gone.

The dark-haired guy in the meantime had scrambled out of the bed and was snatching up articles of clothing. Once he had them all in his grasp he did not bother to don any, but simply held them in front of him and backed quickly toward the door.

«Ron! Where are you going?» Flora asked.

«Away!» he answered, and he opened the door and passed through it.

«Hey! Wait!»

«No way!» came the reply from the next room.

«Damn!» she said, glaring at me. «You have a way of messing up a person's life.» Then, «Ron! What about dinner?» she called.

«I have to see my analyst,» came his voice, followed shortly by the slamming of another door.

«I hope you realize what a beautiful thing you just destroyed,» Flora told me.

I sighed. «When did you meet him?» I asked.

She frowned. «Well, yesterday,» she replied. «Go ahead and smirk. These things are not always a mere function of time. I could tell right away that it was going to be something special. Trust someone crass like you or your father to cheapen a beautiful -»

«I'm sorry,» I said. «Thanks for pulling me through. Of course he'll be back. We just scared the hell out of him. But how could he fail to return once he's known you?»

She smiled. «Yes, you are like Corwin,» she said. «Crass, but perceptive.»

She rose and crossed to the closet, took out a lavender robe and donned it.

«What,» she said, belting it about her, «was that all about?»

«It's a long story -»

«Then I'd better hear it over lunch. Are you hungry?» she asked.

I grinned.

«It figures. Come on.»

She led me out through a French Provincial living room and into a large country kitchen full of tiles and copper. I offered to help her, but she pointed at a chair beside the table and told me to sit.

As she was removing numerous goodies from the refrigerator, I said, «First»

«Yes?»

«Where are we?»

«San Francisco,» she replied.

«Why have you set up housekeeping here?»

«After I finished that business of Random's I decided to stay on. The town looked good to me again.»

I snapped my fingers. I'd forgotten she'd been sent to determine the ownership of the warehouse where Victor Melman had had his apartment and studio, and where Brutus Storage had a supply of ammo that would Ere in Amber.

«So who owned the warehouse?» I asked.

«Brutus Storage,» she replied. «Melman rented from them.»

«And who owns Brutes Storage?»

«J. B. Rand, Inc.»

«Address?»

«An office in Sausalito. It was vacated a couple of months ago.»

«Did the people who owned the place have a home address for the renter?»

«Just a post office box. It's been abandoned too.»

I nodded. «I'd a feeling it would be something like that,» I said. «Now tell me about Jasra. Obviously you know the lady.»

She sniffed. «No lady,» she said. «A royal whore is what she was when I knew her.»

«Where?»

«In Kashfa.»

«Where's that?»

«An interesting little shadow kingdom, a bit over the edge of the Golden Circle of those with which Amber has commerce. Shabby barbaric splendor and all that. It's kind of a cultural backwater.»

«How is it you know it at all, then?»

She paused a moment in stirring something in a bowl.

«Oh, I used to keep company with a Kashfan nobleman I'd met in a wood one day. He was out hawking and I happened to have twisted my ankle -»

«Uh,» I interjected, lest we be diverted by details. «And Jasra?»

«She was consort to the old king Menillan. Had him wrapped around her finger.»

«What have you got against her?»

«She stole Jasrick while I was out of town.»

«Jasrick?»

«My nobleman. Earl of Kronklef.»

«What did His Highness Menillan think of these goings-on?»

«He never knew. He was on his deathbed at the time. Succumbed shortly thereafter. In fact, that's why she really wanted Jasrick. He was chief of the palace guard and his brother was a general. She used them to pull off a coup when Menillan expired. Last I heard, she was queen in Kashfa and she'd ditched Jasrick. Served him proper, I'd say. I think he had his eye on the throne, but she didn't care to share it. She had him and his brother executed for treason of one sort or another. He was really a handsome fellow… Not too bright, though.»

«Do the people of Kashfa have any - uh - unusual physical endowments?» I asked.

She smiled. «Well, Jasrick was one hell of a fellow. But I wouldn't use the word unusual' to -»

«No, no,» I interrupted. «What I meant was some sort of anomaly of the mouth - retractable fangs or a sting or something of that sort.»

«Un-uh,» she said, and I could not tell whether her heightened coloring came from the heat of the stove. «Nothing like that. They're built along standard lines. Why do you ask?»

«When I told you my story back in Amber I omitted the part where Jasra bit me, and I was barely able to trump out because of some sort of poison she seemed to have injected. It left me numb, paralyzed and very weak for a long while.»

She shook her head.

«Kashfans can't do anything like that. But then, of course, Jasra is not a Kashfan.»

«Oh? Where's she from?»

«I don't know. But she's a foreigner. Some say a slaver brought her in from a distant land. Others say she just wandered in herself one day and caught Menillan's eye. It was rumored she was a sorceress. I don't know.»

«I do. That rumor is right.»

«Really? Perhaps that's how she got Jasrick.»

I shrugged. «How long ago was your - experience - with her?»

«Thirty or forty years, I'd guess.»

«And she is still queen in Kashfa?»

«I don't know. It's been a long time since I've been back that way.»

«Is Amber on bad terms with Kashfa?»

She shook her head. «No special terms at all, really. As I said, they're a bit out of the way. Not as accessible as a lot of other places, with nothing greatly desirable for trade.»

«No real reason then for her to hate us?»

«No more than for hating anyone else.»

Some delightful cooking odors began to fill the room. As I sat there sniffing them and thinking of the long, hot shower I would head for after lunch, Flora said what I had somehow known she would say.

«That man who dragged Jasra back… He looked familiar. Who was he?»

«He was the one I told you about back in Amber,» I replied. «Luke. I'm curious whether he reminds you of anyone.»

«He seems to,» she said, after a pause. «But I can't say just who.»

As her back was to me I said, «If you're holding anything that might break or spill if you drop it, please put it down.»

I heard something set to rest on the countertop. Then she turned, a puzzled expression on her face.

«Yes?»

«His real name is Rinaldo, and he's Brand's son,» I told her. «I was his prisoner for over a month in another shadow. I just now escaped.»

«Oh, my,» she whispered. Then, «What does he want?»

«Revenge,» I answered.

«Against anyone in particular?»

«No. All of us. But Caine, of course, was first.»

«I see.»

«Please don't burn anything,» I said. «I've been looking forward to a good meal for a long time.»

She nodded and turned away. After a while she said, «You knew him for a pretty long time. What's he like?»

«He always seemed to be a fairly nice guy. If he's crazy, like his dad, he hid it well.»

She uncorked a wine bottle, poured two glasses and brought them over. Then she began serving the meal.

After a few bites she paused with her fork half raised and stared at nothing in particular.

«Who'd have thought the son of a bitch would reproduce?» she remarked.

«Fiona, I think,» I told her. «The night before Caine's funeral she asked me whether I had a photo of Luke. When I showed her one I could tell that something was bothering her, but she wouldn't say what.»

«And the next day she and Bleys were gone,» Flora said. «Yes. Now I think of it, he does look somewhat the way Brand did when he was very young - so long ago. Luke seems bigger and heavier, but there is a resemblance.»

She resumed eating.

«By the way, this is very good,» I said.

«Oh, thanks.» She sighed then. «That means I have to wait till you're finished eating to hear the whole story.»

I nodded, because my mouth was full. Let the empire totter. I was starved.

Chapter 2

Showered, trimmed, manicured and garbed in fresh-conjured finery, I got a number out of Information and placed a call to the only Devlin listed in Bill Roth's area. The voice of the woman who answered did not possess the proper timbre, though I still recognized it.

«Meg? Meg Devlin?» I said.

«Yes,» came the reply. «Who is this?»

«Merle Corey.»

«Who?»

«Merle Corey. We spent an interesting night together some time back -»

«I'm sorry,» she said. «There must be some mistake.»

«If you can't talk freely now I can call whenever you say. Or you can call me.»

«I don't know you,» she said, and she hung up.

I stared at the receiver. If her husband were present I'd assumed she'd play it a bit cagey but would at least give some indication that she knew me and would talk another time. I had held off on getting in touch with Random because I'd a feeling he'd summon me back to Amber immediately, and I'd wanted to talk to Meg first. I certainly couldn't spare the time to go and visit her. I could not understand her response, but for now at least I was stuck with it. So I tried the only other thing that occurred to me. I got hold of Information again and obtained the number for Bill's next-door neighbors, the Hansens.

It was answered on the third ring - a woman's voice I recognized as Mrs. Hansen's. I had met her in the past, though I had not seen her on my most recent trip to the area.

«Mrs. Hansen,» I began. «It's Merle Corey.»

«Oh, Merle… You were just up here a while ago, weren't you?»

«Yes. Couldn't stay long, though. But I did finally get to meet George. Had several long talks with him. In fact, I'd like to speak with him right now if he's handy.»

The silence ran several beats too long before she responded.

«George… Well, George is over at the hospital just now, Merle. Is it something you could tell me?»

«Oh, it's not urgent,» I said. «What happened to George?»

«It - it's nothing real bad. He's just an outpatient now, and today's his day to get checked over and pick up some medication. He had a sort of breakdown last month. Had a couple days' worth of amnesia, and they can't seem to figure what caused it.»

«I'm sorry to hear that.»

«Well, the X-rays didn't show any damage - like he'd hit his head or anything. And he seems okay now. They say he'll probably be fine. But they want to keep an eye on him a little longer. That's all.» Suddenly, as if struck by inspiration, she asked, «How'd he seem when you were talking with him, anyway?»

I'd seen it coming, so I didn't hesitate.

«He seemed fine when I talked with him,» I answered. «But of course I hadn't known him before, so I couldn't tell whether he was acting any different.»

«I see what you mean,» she said. «Do you want him to call you back when he gets in?»

«No. I'm going to be going out» I said, «and I'm not sure when I'll be getting back. It was nothing really important. I'll get in touch again one of these days.»

«Okay, then. I'll tell him you called.»

«Thanks. G'bye.»

That one I'd almost expected. After Meg, George's behavior had been overtly weird, at the end there. What had bothered me was that he'd seemed to know who I really was and to know about Amber - and he even wanted to follow me through a Trump. It was as if he and Meg had both been subjected to some strange manipulation.

Jasra came to mind immediately in this regard. But then she was Luke ally, it seemed, and Meg had warned me against Luke. Why would she do that if Jasra were controlling her in some fashion? It didn't make sense. Who else did I know who might be capable of causing such phenomena?

Fiona, for one. But then she'd been party to my later return to this shadow from Amber and had even picked me up after my evening with Meg. And she'd seemed just as puzzled about the course of events as I was.

Shit. Life is full of doors that don't open when you knock, equally spaced amid those that open when you don't want them to.

I went back and knocked on the bedroom door, and Flora told me to come in. She was seated before a mirror, applying makeup.

«How'd it go?» she asked.

«Not too well. Totally unsatisfactory, actually.» I summarized the results of my calls.

«So what are you going to do now?» she inquired.

«Get in touch with Random,» I said, «and bring him up to date. I've got a feeling he'll call me back to hear it all. So I wanted to say good-bye, and thanks for helping me. Sorry if I broke up your romance.»

She shrugged, her back still to me, as she studied herself in the mirror. «Don't worry -»

I did not hear the remainder of her sentence, though she continued talking. My attention was snatched away by what seemed the beginning of a Trump contact. I made myself receptive and waited. The feeling grew stronger but the caller’s presence did not become manifest. I turned away from Flora.

«Merle, what is it?» I heard her say then.

I raised one hand to her as the feeling intensified. I seemed to be staring down a long black tunnel with nothing at its farther end.

«I don't know» I said, summoning the Logrus and taking control of one of its limbs. «Ghost? Is that you? Are you ready to talk?» I asked. There was no reply. I felt a chill as I remained receptive, waiting. I had never experienced anything quite like this before. I'd a strong feeling that if I but moved forward I would be transported somewhere. Was this a challenge? A trap? Whatever, I felt that only a fool would accept such an invitation from the unknown. For all I knew, it might deliver me back to the crystal cave.

«If there is something you want,» I said, «you are going to have to make yourself known and ask. I've given up on blind dates.»

A sense of presence trickled through, then, but no intimations of identity,

«All right,» I said. «I'm not coming and you have no message. The only other thing I can think of is that you're asking to come to me. If that's the case, come ahead.»

I extended both of my apparently empty hands, my invisible strangling cord writhing into position in my left, an unseen Logrus death bolt riding my right. It was one of those times when courtesy demanded professional standards.

A soft laughter seemed to echo within the dark tunnel. It was purely a mental projection, however, cold and genderless.

Your offer is, of course, a trick, came to me then. For you are not a fool. Still, I grant your courage, to address the unknown as you do. You do not know what you face, yet you await it. You even invite it.

«The offer is still good,» I said.

I never thought of you as dangerous.

«What do you want?»

To regard you.

«Why?»

There may come a time when I will face you on different terms.

«What terms?»

I feel that our purposes will be crossed.

«Who are you?»

Again, the laughter.

No. Not now. Not yet. I would merely look upon you, and observe your reactions.

«Well? Have you seen enough?»

Almost.

«If our purposes are crossed, let the conflict be now,» I said. «I'd like to get it out of the way so I can get on with some important business.»

I appreciate arrogance. But when the time comes the choice will not be yours.

«I'm willing to wait,» I said, as I cautiously extended a Logrus limb out along the dark way.

Nothing. My probe encountered nothing…

I admire your performance.

Here!

Something came rushing toward me. My magical extension informed me that it was soft - too soft and loose to do me any real harm - a large, cool mass showing bright colors…

I stood my ground and extended through it - beyond, far, farther reaching for the source. I encountered something tangible but yielding: a body perhaps, perhaps not too-too big to snap back in an instant.

Several small items, hard and of sufficiently low mass, recommended themselves to my lightning search. I seized upon one, tore it free of whatever held it and called it to me.

A wordless impulse of startlement reached me at the same time as the rushing mass and the return of my Logrus summoning.

It burst about me like fireworks: flowers, flowers, flowers. Violets, anemones, daffodils, roses… I heard Flora gasp as hundreds of them rained into the room. The contact was broken immediately. I was aware that I held something small and hard in my right hand, and the heady odors of the floral display filled my nostrils.

«What the hell,» said Flora, «happened?»

«I'm not sure,» I answered, brushing petals from my shirtfront. «You like flowers? You can have these.»

«Thanks, but I prefer a less haphazard arrangement,» she said, regarding the bright mound that lay at my feet. «Who sent them?»

«A nameless person at the end of a dark tunnel.»

«Why?»

«Down payment on a funeral display, maybe. I'm not sure. The tenor of the whole conversation was somewhat threatening.»

«I'd appreciate it if you'd help me pick them up before you go.»

«Sure,» I said.

«There are vases in the kitchen and the bathroom. Come on.»

I followed her and collected several. On the way, I studied the object I had brought back from the other end of the sending. It was a blue button mounted in a gold setting, a few navy blue threads still attached. The cut stone bore a curved, four-limbed design. I showed it to Flora and she shook her head.

«It tells me nothing,» she said.

I dug into my pocket and produced the chips of stone from the crystal cave. They seemed to match. Frakir stirred slightly when I passed the button near her, then lapsed again into quiescence, as if having given up on warning me about blue stones when I obviously never did anything about them.

«Strange,» I said.

«I'd like some roses on the night table,» Flora told me, «and a couple of mixed displays on the dresser. You know, no one's ever sent me flowers this way. It's a rather intriguing introduction. Are you sure they were for you?»

I growled something anatomical or theological and gathered rosebuds.

Later, as we sat in the kitchen drinking coffee and musing, Flora remarked, «This thing's kind of spooky.»

«Yes».

«Maybe you ought to discuss it with Fi after you've talked with Random.»

«Maybe.»

«Speaking of whom, shouldn't you be calling Random?»

«Maybe.»

«What do you mean, ‘maybe'? He's got to be warned.»

«True. But I've a feeling that being safe won't get any questions answered for me.»

«What do you have in mind, Merle?»

«Do you have a car?»

«Yes, I just got it a few days back. Why?»

I withdrew the button and the stones from my pocket, spread them on the table and regarded them again. «It just occurred to me while we were picking up flowers where I might have seen another of these.»

«Yes?»

«There is a memory I must have been blocking, because it was very distressing: Julia's appearance when I found her. I seem to recall now that she had on a pendant with a blue stone. Maybe it's just coincidence, but»

She nodded. «Could be. But even so, the police probably have it now.»

«Oh, I don't want the thing. But it reminds me that I didn't really get to look over her apartment as well as I might have if I hadn't had to leave in a hurry. I want to see it again before I go back to Amber. I'm still puzzled as to how that - creature - got in.»

«What if the place has been cleaned out? Or rented again?»

I shrugged. «Only one way to find out.»

«Okay, I'll drive you there.»

A few minutes later we were in her car and I was giving her directions. It was perhaps a twenty-minute drive beneath a sunny late-afternoon sky, stray clouds passing. I spent much of the time making certain preparations with Logrus forces, and I was ready by the time we reached the proper area.

«Turn here and go around the block,» I said, gesturing. «I'll show you where to park if there's a place.»

There was, close to the spot where I'd parked on that day.

When we were stopped beside the curb she glanced at me. «Now what? Do we just go up to the place and knock?»

«I'm going to make us invisible,» I told her, «and I'm going to keep US that way till we're inside. You'll have to stay close to me in order for us to see each other, though.»

She nodded.

«Dworkin did it for me once,» she said, «when I was a child. Spied on a lot of people then.» She chuckled. «I'd forgotten.»

I put the finishing touches to the elaborate spell and laid it upon us, the world growing dimmer beyond the windshield as I did. It was as if I regarded our surroundings through gray sunglasses as we slipped out the passenger side of the car. We walked slowly up to the corner and turned right.

«Is this a hard spell to learn?» she asked me. «It seems a very handy one to know.»

«Unfortunately, yes,» I said. «Its biggest drawback is that you can't just do it at a moment's notice if you don't have it hanging ready - and I didn't. So, starting from scratch, it takes about twenty minutes to build.»

We turned up the walk to the big old house.

«Which floor?» she asked me.

«Top.»

We climbed to the front door and found it locked. No doubt they were more particular about such matters these days.

«Break it?» Flora whispered.

«Too noisy,» I answered.

I placed my left hand upon the doorknob and gave Frakir a silent command. She unwound two turnings of her coil from about my wrist, coming into view as she moved across the lock plate and slithered into the keyhole. There followed a tightening, a stiffening and several rigid movements.

A soft click meant the bolt was drawn, and I turned the knob and pulled gently. The door opened. Frakir returned to bracelethood and invisibility.

We entered, closing the door quietly behind us. We were not present in the wavery mirror. I led Flora up the stairs.

There were soft voices from one of the rooms on the second floor. That was all. No wind. No excited dogs. And the voices grew still before we reached the third floor.

I saw that the entire door to Julia's apartment had been replaced. It was slightly darker than the other and it sported a bright new lock. I tapped upon it gently and we waited. There was no response, but I knocked again after perhaps half a minute and we waited again.

No one came. So I tried it. It was locked, but Frakir repeated her trick and I hesitated. My hand shook as I recalled my last visit. I knew her mutilated corpse was no longer lying there. I knew no killer beast was waiting to attack me. Yet the memory held me for several seconds.

«What's the matter?» Flora whispered.

«Nothing,» I said, and I pushed the door open.

The place had been partly furnished, as I recalled. The part that had come with it remained - the sofa and end tables, several chairs, a larger table - but all Julia's own stuff was gone. There was a new rug on the floor, and the floor itself had been buffed recently. It did not appear that the place had been re-let, as there were no personal items of any sort about.

We entered and I closed the door, dropping the spell that had cloaked us as I began my circuit through the rooms. The place brightened perceptibly as our magic veils faded.

«I don't think you're going to find anything,» Flora said. «I can smell wax and disinfectant and paint…»

I nodded.

«The more mundane possibilities seem to be excluded,» I said. «But there is something else I want to try.»

I calmed my mind and called up the Logrus-seeing. If there were any remaining traces of a magical working, I hoped I could spot them in this fashion. I wandered slowly then, through the living room, regarding everything from every possible angle. Flora moved off, conducting her own investigation, which consisted mainly in looking under everything. The room flickered slightly for me as I scanned at those wavelengths where such a manifestation was most likely to be apparent - at least, that was the best way to describe the process in this shadow.

Nothing, large or small, escaped my scrutiny. But nothing was revealed to it. After long minutes I moved into the bedroom.

Flora must have heard my sudden intake of breath, because she was into the room and at my side in seconds, and staring at the chest of drawers before which I stood.

«Something in it?» she inquired, reaching forward, then withdrawing her hand.

«No. Behind it,» I said.

The chest of drawers had been moved in the course of purging the apartment. It used to occupy a space several feet farther to the right. That which I now saw was visible to its left and above it, with more of it obviously blocked to my sight. I took hold of the thing and pushed it back to the right, to the position it had formerly occupied.

«I still don't see anything,» Flora said.

I reached out and caught hold of her hand, extending the Logrus force so that she, too, saw what I saw.

«Why» - she raised her other hand and traced the faint rectangular outline on the wall - «it looks like a… doorway,» she said.

I studied it - a dim line of faded fire. The thing was obviously sealed and had been for some time. Eventually it would fade completely and be gone.

«It is a doorway,» I answered.

She pulled me back into the other room to regard the opposite side of the wall.

«Nothing here,» she observed. «It doesn't go through.»

«Now you've got the idea,» I said. «It goes somewhere else.»

«Where?»

«Wherever the thing that killed Julia came from.»

«Can you open it?»

«I am prepared to stand in front of it for as long as I have to,» I told her, «and try.»

I returned to the other room and studied it once again.

«Merlin,» she said, as I released her hand and raised mine before me, «don't you think this is the point where you should get in touch with Random, tell him exactly what has been happening and perhaps have Gerard standing next to you if you succeed in opening that door?»

«I probably should,» I agreed, «but I'm not going to.»

«Why not?»

«Because he might tell me not to.»

«He might be right, too.»

I lowered my hands and turned toward her. «I have to admit you have a point,» I said. «Random has to be told everything, and I've probably put it off too long already. So here is what I would like you to do. Go back to the car and wait. Give me an hour. If I'm not out by then, get in touch with Random, tell him everything I told you and tell him about this, too.»

«I don't know,» she said. «If you don't show, Random's going to be mad at me.»

«Just tell him I insisted and there was nothing you could do. Which is actually the case, if you stop to think about it.»

She pursed her lips. «I don't like leaving you - though I'm not anxious to stay either. Care to take along a hand grenade?»

She raised her purse and began to open it. «No. Thanks. Why do you have it, anyway?»

She smiled. «I always carry them in this shadow. They sometimes come in handy. But okay, I'll go wait.»

She kissed me lightly on the cheek and turned away.

«And try to get hold of Fiona,» I said, «if I don't show. Tell her the whole story, too. She might have a different angle on this.»

She nodded and departed. I waited until I heard the door close, then focused my attention fully upon the bright rectangle. Its outline seemed fairly uniform, with only a few slightly thicker, brighter areas and a few finer, dimmer ones. I traced the lines slowly with the palm of my right hand at a height of about an inch above the wall's surface. I felt a small prickling, a heatlike sensation as I did this. Predictably, it was greater above the brighter areas. I took this as an indication that the seal was slightly less perfect in these spots. Very well. I would soon discover whether the thing could be forced, and these would be my points of attack.

I twisted my hands deeper into the Logrus until I wore the limbs I desired as fine - fingered gauntlets, stronger than metals, more sensitive than tongues in the places of their power. I moved my right hand to the point nearest it, on a level with my hip. I felt the pulse of an old spell when I touched that spot of greater brightness. I narrowed my extension as I pushed, making it finer and finer until it slipped through. The pulsing then became a steady thing. I repeated the exercise on a higher area to my left.

I stood there, feeling the force that had sealed it, my fine filament extensions throbbing within its matrix. I tried moving them, first upward, then down. The right one slid a little farther than the left, in both directions, before a tightness and resistance halted it. I summoned more force from the body of the Logrus, which swam specterlike within and before me, and I poured this energy into the gauntlets, the pattern of the Logrus changing form again as I did so. When I tried once more to move it, the right one slid downward for perhaps a foot before the throbbing trapped it; when I pushed it upward it rose nearly to the top. I tried again on the left. It moved all the way to the top, but it only passed perhaps six inches below the starting point when I drew it downward.

I breathed deeply and felt myself beginning to perspire. I pumped more power into the gauntlets and forced their extensions farther downward. The resistance was even greater there, and the throbbing passed up my arms and into the very center of my being. I paused and rested, then raised the force to an even higher level of intensity. The Logrus writhed again and I pushed both hands all the way to the floor, then knelt there panting before I began working my way along the bottom. The portal was obviously meant never to be opened again. There was no artistry for this, only brute force.

When my forces met in the middle, I withdrew and regarded the work. To the right, to the left and along the bottom, the fine red lines had now become broad fiery ribbons. I could feel their pulsation across the distance that separated us.

I stood and raised my arms. I began to work along the top, starting at the corners, moving inward. It was easier than it had been earlier. The forces from the opened areas seemed to add a certain pressure, and my hands just flowed to the middle. When they met I seemed to hear something like a soft sighing sound. I dropped them and considered my work. The entire outline flared now. But more than that. It seemed almost as if the bright line were flowing, around and around…

I stood there for several minutes, regrouping, relaxing, settling. Working up my nerve. All I knew was that the door would lead to a different shadow. That could mean anything. When I opened it something could, I suppose, leap out and attack me. But then, it had been sealed for some time. More probably any trap would be of a different sort. Most likely, I would open it and nothing would happen. I would then have a choice of merely looking around from where I stood or entering. And there probably wouldn't be very much to see, just standing there, looking…

So I extended my Logus members once again, taking hold of the door at either side, and I pushed. A yielding occurred on the side to my right, so I released my hold on the left. I continued my pressure on the right and the whole thing suddenly swung inward and away…

I was looking down a pearly tunnel, which appeared to widen after a few paces. Beyond that was a ripple effect, as of distant heat patterns above the road on a hot summer day. Patches of redness and indeterminate dark shapes swam within it. I waited for perhaps half a minute, but nothing approached.

I prepared Frakir for trouble. I maintained my Logrus connection. I advanced, extending probes before me. I passed within.

A sudden change in the pressure gradient at my back caused me to cast a quick glance in that direction. The doorway had closed and dwindled, now appearing to me in the distance as a tiny red cube. My several steps could, of course, have borne me a great distance also, should the rules of this space so operate.

I continued, and a hot wind flowed toward me, engulfed me, stayed with me. The sides of my passageway receded, the prospect before me continued to shimmer and dance, and my pace became more labored, as if I were suddenly walking uphill. I heard something like a grunt from beyond the place where my vision misbehaved, and my left Logrus probe encountered something that it jolted slightly. Frakir began to throb simultaneous with my sensing an aura of menace through the probe. I sighed. I hadn't expected this was going to be easy. If I'd been running the show I wouldn't have let things go with just sealing the door.

«All right, asshole! Hold it right there!» a voice boomed from ahead. I continued to trudge forward.

It came again. «I said halt!»

Things began to swim into place as I advanced, and suddenly there were rough walls to my right and left and a roof overhead, narrowing, converging

A huge rotund figure barred my way, looking like a purple Buddha with bat ears. Details resolved themselves as I drew nearer: protruding fangs, yellow eyes that seemed to be lidless, long red claws on its great hands and feet. It was seated in the middle of the tunnel and made no effort to rise. It wore no clothing, but its great swollen belly rested upon its knees, concealing its sex. Its voice had been gruffly masculine, however, and its odor generically foul.

«Hi,» I said. «Nice day, wasn't it?»

It growled and the temperature seemed to rise slightly. Frakir had grown frantic and I calmed her mentally.

The creature leaned forward and with one bright nail inscribed a smoking line in the stone of the floor. I halted before it.

«Cross that line, sorcerer, and you've had it,» it said.

«Why?» I asked.

«Because I said so.»

«If you're collecting tolls,» I suggested, «name the price.»

It shook its head. «You can't buy your way past me.»

«Uh - what makes you think I'm a sorcerer?»

It opened the dingy cavern of its face, displaying even more lurking teeth than I'd suspected, and it did something like the rattling of a tin sheet way down deep in back.

«I felt that little probe of yours,» it said. «It's a sorcerer's trick. Besides, nobody but a sorcerer could have gotten to the place where you're standing.»

«You do not seem to possess a great deal of respect for the profession.»

«I eat sorcerers,» it told me.

I made a face, thinking back over some of the old farts I've known in the business.

«To each, his, her or its own, I guess,» I told it. «So what's the deal? A passage is no good unless you can get through it. How do I get by here?»

«You don't.»

«Not even if I answer a riddle?»

«That won't do it for me,» it said. But a small gleam came into its eye. «Just for the hell of it, though, what's green and red and goes round and round and round?» it asked.

«You know the sphinx!»

«Shit!» it said. «You've heard it.»

I shrugged. «I get around.»

«Not here you don't.»

I studied it. It had to have some special defense against magical attacks if it were set to stop sorcerers. As for physical defense it was fairly imposing. I wondered how fast it was. Could I just dive past and start running? I decided that I did not wish to experiment along that line.

«I really do have to get through,» I tried. «It's an emergency.»

«Tough.»

«Look, what do you get out of this, anyway? It seems like a pretty crummy job, sitting here in the middle of a tunnel.»

«I love my work. I was created for it.»

«How come you let the sphinx come and go?»

«Magical beings don't count.»

«Hm.»

«And don't try to tell me you're really a magical being, and then pull some sorcerous illusion. I can see right through that stuff.»

«I believe you. What's your name, anyhow?»

It snorted. «You can call me Scrof, for conversational purposes. Yourself?»

«Call me Corey.»

«Okay, Corey. I don't mind sitting here bullshitting with you, because that's covered by the rules. It's allowed. You've got three choices and one of them would be real stupid. You can turn around and go back the way you came and be none the worse for wear. You can also camp right where you are for as long as you like and I won't lift a finger so long as you behave. The dumb thing to do would be to cross this line I've drawn. Then I'd terminate you. This is the Threshold and I am the Dweller on it. I don't let anybody get by.»

«I appreciate your making it clear.»

«It's part of the job. So what'll it be?»

I raised my hands and the lines of force twisted like knives at each fingertip. Frakir dangled from my wrist and began to swing in an elaborate pattern.

Scrof smiled. «I not only eat sorcerers, I eat their magic, too. Only a being torn from the primal Chaos can make that claim. So come ahead, if you think you can face that.»

«Chaos, eh? Torn from the primal Chaos?»

«Yep. There's not much can stand against it.»

«Except maybe a Lord of Chaos,» I replied, as I shifted my awareness to various points within my body. Rough work. The faster you do it the more painful it is.

Again, the rattling of the tin sheet.

«You know what the odds are against a Chaos Lord coming this far to go two out of three with a Dweller?» Scrof said.

My arms began to lengthen and I felt my shirt tear across my back as I leaned forward. The bones in my face shifted about and my chest expanded and expanded…

«One out of one should be enough,» I replied, when the transformation was complete.

«Shit,» Scrof said as I crossed the line.

Chapter 3

I stood just within the mouth of the cave for some time, my left shoulder hinting and my right leg sore also. If I could get the pain under control before I retransformed myself there was a chance that much of it would fade during the anatomical reshuffling. The process itself would probably leave me pretty tired, however. It takes a lot of energy, and switching twice this close together could be somewhat prostrating, following my bout with the Dweller. So I rested within the cave into which the pearly tunnel had eventually debouched, and I regarded the prospect before me.

Far down and to my left was a bright blue and very troubled body of water. White-crested waves expired in kamikaze attacks on the gray rocks of the shore; a strong wind scattered their spray and a piece of rainbow hung within the mist.

Before me and below me was a pocked, cracked and steaming land which trembled periodically, as it swept for well over a mile toward the high dark walls of an amazingly huge and complex structure, which I immediately christened Gormenghast. It was a hodgepodge of architectural styles, bigger even than the palace at Amber and somber as all hell. Also, it was under attack.

There were quite a few troops in the field before the walls, most of them in a distant nonscorched area of more normal terrain and some vegetation, though the grasses were well trampled and many trees shattered. The besiegers were equipped with scaling ladders and a battering ram; but the ram was idle at the moment and the ladders were on the ground. What appeared to have been an entire village of outbuildings smoldered darkly at the wall's base. Numerous sprawled figures were, I assumed, casualties.

Moving my gaze even farther to the right, I encountered an area of brilliant whiteness beyond that great citadel. It looked to be the projecting edge of a massive glacier, and gusts of snow or ice crystals were whipped about it in a fashion similar to the sea mists far to my left.

The wind seemed a constant traveler through these parts. I heard it cry out high above me. When I finally stepped outside to look upward, I found that I was only about halfway up a massive stony hillside - or low mountainside, depending on how one regards such matters - and the whining note of the wind came down even more loudly from those broken heights. There was also a thump at my back, and when I turned I could no longer locate the cave mouth. My journey along the route from the fiery door had been completed once I exited the cave, and its spell had apparently clamped down and closed the way immediately. I supposed that I could locate the outline upon the steep wall if I wanted to, but at the moment I had no such desire. I made a little pile of stones before it, and then I looked about again, studying details.

A narrow trail curved off to my right and back among some standing stones. I headed in that direction. I smelled smoke. Whether it was from the battle site or the area of vullcanism below I could not tell. The sky was a patchwork of cloud and light above me. When I halted between two of the stones and fumed to regard the scene below once again, I saw that the attackers had formed themselves into new groups and that the ladders were being home toward the walls. I also saw what looked like a tornado rise on the far side of the citadel and begin a slow counterclockwise movement about the walls. If it continued on its route it would eventually reach the attackers. Neat trick. Fortunately it was their problem and not mine.

I worked my way back into a stony declivity and settled myself upon a low ledge. I began the troublesome shapeshifting work, which I paced to take me half an hour or so. Changing from something nominally human to something rare and strange - perhaps monstrous to some, perhaps frightening - and then back again is a concept some may find repugnant. They shouldn't. We all of us do it every day in many different ways, don't we?

When the transformation was completed I lay back, breathing deeply, and listened to the wind. I was sheltered from its force by the stones and only its song came down to me. I felt vibrations from distant tremors of the earth and chose to take them as a gentle massage, soothing… My clothes were in tatters, and for the moment I was too tired to summon a fresh outfit. My shoulder seemed to have lost its pain, and there was only the slightest twinge in my leg, fading, fading… I closed my eyes for a few moments.

Okay, I'd made it through, and I'd a strong feeling that the answer to the matter of Julia's killer lay in the besieged citadel below. Offhand, I didn't see any easy way into the place at the moment, to make inquiry. But that was not the only way I might proceed. I decided to wait where I was, resting, until it grew dark - that is, if things here proceeded in a normal dark-light fashion. Then I'd slip downstairs, kidnap one of the besiegers and question him. Yes. And if it didn't get dark? Then I'd think of something else. Right now, though, just drifting felt best…

For how long I dozed, I was uncertain. What roused me was the clicking of pebbles, from somewhere off to the right. I was instantly alert, though I didn't stir. There was no effort at stealth, and the pattern of approaching sounds - mainly slapping footfalls, as of someone wearing loose sandals - convinced me that only a single individual was moving in this direction. I tensed and relaxed my muscles and drew a few deep breaths.

A very hairy man emerged from between two of the stones to my right. He was about five and a half feet in height, very dirty, and he wore a dark animal skin about his loins; also, he had on a pair of sandals. He stared at me for several seconds before displaying the yellow irregularities of his smile.

«Hello. Are you injured?» he asked, in a debased form of Thari that I did not recall ever having heard before.

I stretched to make sure and then stood. «No,» I replied. «Why do you ask that?»

The smile persisted. «I thought maybe you'd had enough of the fighting below and decided to call it quits.»

«Oh, I see. No, it's not exactly like that…»

He nodded and stepped forward. «Dave's my name. What's yours?»

«Merle,» I said, clasping his grimy hand.

«Not to worry, Merle,» he told me. «I wouldn't turn in anybody who decided to take a walk from a war, unless maybe there was a reward and there ain't on this one. Did it myself years ago and never regretted it.

Mine was goin' the same way this one seems to be goin', and I had sense enough to get out. No army's ever taken that place down there, and I don't think one ever will.»

«What place is it?»

He cocked his head and squinted, then shrugged. «Keep of the Four Worlds,» he said. «Didn't the recruiter tell you anything?»

I sighed. «Nope,» I said.

«Wouldn't have any smokin' stuff on you, would you?»

«No,» I answered, having used alI my pipe tobacco back in the crystal cave. «Sorry.»

I moved past him to a point where I could Iook downward from between the stones. I wanted another Look at the Keep of the Four Worlds. After all, it was the answer to a riddle as well as the subject of numerous cryptic references in Melman's diary. Fresh bodies were scattered all over before its walls, as if cast about by the whirlwind, which was now circling back toward the point whence it had risen. But a small party of besiegers had apparently made it to the top of the wall despite this. And a fresh party had formed below and was headed for the ladders. One of its members bore a banner I could not place, but which seemed vaguely familiar black and green, with what might be a couple of heraldic beasts having a go at each other. Two ladders were still in place, and I could see some tierce fighting going on behind the battlements.

«Some of the attackers seem to have gotten in,» I said.

Dave hurried up beside me and stared. I immediately moved upwind.

«You're right» he acknowledged. «Now, that's a first. If they can get that damn gate open and let the others in they might even have a chance. Never thought I'd live to see it.»

«How long ago was it,» I asked, «when the army you were with attacked the place?»

«Must be eight, nine - maybe ten years,» he muttered. «Those guys must be pretty good.»

«What's it all about?» I asked.

He turned and studied me.

«You really don't know?»

«Just got here,» I said.

«Hungry? Thirsty?»

«As a matter of fact, yes.»

«Come on, then.» He took hold of my arm and steered me back between the stones, then led me along a narrow trail.

«Where are we headed?» I asked.

«I live nearby. I make it a point to feed deserters, for old times' sake. I'll make an exception for you.»

«Thanks.» The trail split after a short while, and he took the right-hand branch, which involved some climbing. Eventually this led us to a series of rocky shelves, the last of which receded for a considerable distance. There were a number of clefts at its rear, into one of which he ducked. I followed him a short distance along it, and he halted before a low cave mouth. A horrible odor of putrefaction drifted forth, and I could hear the buzzing of flies within.

«This is my place,» he announced. «I'd invite you in, but it's a little uh -»

«That's okay,» I said. «I'll wait.»

He ducked inside, and I realized that my appetite was rapidly vanishing, especially when it came to anything he might have stored in that place. Moments later he emerged, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. «Got some good stuff in here,» he announced.

I started walking back along the cleft.

«Hey! Where you headed?»

«Air,» I said. «I'm going back out on the shelf. It's a bit close back there.»

«Oh. Okay,» he said, and he fell into step behind me.

He had two unopened bottles of wine, several canteens of water, a fresh-looking loaf of bread, some tinned meat, a few firm apples and an uncut head of cheese in the bag, I discovered, after we'd seated ourselves on a ledge out in the open and he'd gestured for me to open the thing and serve myself. Having prudently remained upwind, I took some water and an apple for openers.

«Place has a stormy history,» he stated, withdrawing a small knife from his girdle and cutting himself a piece of cheese. «I'm not sure who built it or how long it's been there.»

When I saw that he was about to dig the cork out of a wine bottle with the knife I halted him and essayed a small and surreptitious Logrus sending. The response was quick, and I passed him the corkscrew immediately. He handed me the entire bottle after he'd uncorked it and opened the other for himself. For reasons involving public health I was grateful, though I wasn't in the mood for that much wine.

«That's what I call being prepared,» he said, studying the corkscrew. «I've needed one of these for some time…»

«Keep it,» I told him. «Tell me more about that place. Who lives there? How did you come to be part of an invading army? Who's attacking it now?»

He nodded and took a swig of wine.

«The earliest boss of the place that I know of was a wizard named Sharu Garrul. The queen of my country departed suddenly and came here» He paused and stared off into the distance for a time, then snorted. «Politics! I don't even know what the given reason for the visit was at the time. I'd never heard of the damned place in those days. Anyhow, she stayed a long while and people began to wonder. Was she a prisoner? Was she working out an alliance? Was she having an affair? I gather she sent back messages periodically, but they were the usual bland crap that didn't say anything, unless of course there were also secret communications folks like me wouldn't have heard about. She had a pretty good-sized retinue with her, too, with an honor guard that was not just for show. These guys were very tough veterans, even though they dressed pretty. So it was kind of debatable what was going on at that point.»

«A question, if I may,» I said. «What was your king's part in all this? You didn't mention him, and it would seem he ought to know -»

«Dead,» he announced. «She made a lovely widow, and there was a lot of pressure on her to remarry. But she just took a succession of lovers and played the different factions off against each other. Usually her men were military leaders or powerful nobles, or both. She'd left her son in charge when she made this trip, though.»

«Oh, so there was a prince old enough to sit in control?»

«Yes. In fact, he started the damned war. He raised troops and wasn't happy with the muster, so he got in touch with a childhood friend, a man generally considered an outlaw, but who commanded a large band of mercenaries. Name of Dalt»

«Stop!» I said.

My mind raced as I recalled a story Gerard had once told me, about a strange man named Dalt who had led a private army against Amber, unusually effectively. Benedict himself had had to be recalled to oppose him. The man's forces had been defeated at the foot of Kolvir, and Dalt himself severely wounded. Though no one ever saw his body, it was assumed he would have died of such injuries. But there was more.

«Your home,» I said. «You never named it. Where are you from, Dave?»

«A place called Kashfa,» he replied.

«And Jasra was your queen?»

«You've heard of us. Where're you from?»

«San Francisco,» I said.

He shook his head. «Don't know the place.»

«Who does? Listen, how good are your eyes?»

«What do you mean?»

«A little while ago, when we looked down on the lighting, could you make out the Bag the attackers were carrying?»

«Eyes ain't what they used to be,» he said.

«It was green and black with some sort of animals on it.»

He whistled. «A lion rending a unicorn, I'll bet. Sounds like Dalt's.»

«What is the significance of that device?»

«He hates them Amberites, is what it means. Even went up against them once.»

I tasted the wine. Not bad. The same man, then…

«You know why he hates them?» I asked.

«I understand they killed his mother,» he said. «Had something to do with border wars. They get real complicated. I don't know the details.»

I pried open a tin of meat, broke off some bread and made myself a sandwich.

«Please go ahead with your story,» I said.

«Where was I?»

«The prince got hold of Dalt because he was concerned about his mother, and he needed more troops in a hurry.»

«That's right, and I was picked up for Kashfan service about that time - foot soldier. The prince and Dalt led us through dark ways till we came to that place below. Then we did just what them guys downstairs were doing.»

«And what happened?»

He laughed. «Went bad for us at first,» he said. «I think it's somehow easy for whoever's in charge down there to control the elements - like that twister you saw a while ago. We got an earthquake and a blizzard and lightning. But we pressed on to the walls anyhow. Saw my brother scalded to death with boiling oil. That's when I decided I'd had enough. I started running and climbed on up here. Nobody chased me, so I waited around and watched. Probably shouldn't have, but I didn't know how things would go. More of the same, I'd figgered. But I was wrong, and it was too late to go back. They'd have whacked off my head or some other valuable parts if I did.»

«What happened?»

«I got the impression that the attack forced Basra 's hand. She'd apparently been planning to do away with Sharu Garrul all along and take over the place herself. I think she'd been setting him up, gaining his confidence before she struck. I believe she was a little afraid of the old man. But when her army appeared on the doorstep she had to move, even though she wasn't ready. She took him on in a sorcerous duel while her guard held his men at bay. She won, though I gather she was somewhat injured. Mad as hell, too, at her son - for bringing in an army without her ordering it. Anyway, her guard opened the gates to them, and she took over the Keep. That's what I meant about no army taking the place. That one was an inside job.»

«How did you learn all this?»

«Like I said, when deserters head this way I feed 'em and get the news.»

«You gave me the impression that there have been other attempts to take the place. These would have had to be after she'd taken over.»

He nodded and took another drink of wine.

«Yup. There was apparently a coup back in Kashfa, with both her and her kid away - a noble named Kasman, brother of one of her dead lovers, a fellow named Jasrick. This Kasman took over, and he wanted her and the prince out of the way. Must've attacked this place half a dozen times. Never could get in. Finally resigned himself to a standoff, I think. She sent her son off somewhere later, maybe to raise another army and try to win back her throne. I don't know. That was long ago.»

«What about Dalt?»

«They paid him off with some loot from the Keep - there was apparently a lot of good stuff in there - and he took his troops and went back to wherever he hangs out.»

I took another sip of wine myself and cut off a piece of the cheese. «How come you've stayed around all these years? It seems like a hard life.»

He nodded. «Truth of it is, I don't know the way home. Those were strange trails they brought us in on. I thought I knew where they were, but when I went lookin' I couldn't never End 'em. I suppose I could have just taken off, but then I'd probably get lost more than ever. Besides, I know I can make out here. A few weeks and those outbuildings will be rebuilt and the peasants will move back in, no matter who wins. And they think I'm a holy man, prayin' up here and meditatin'. Any time I wander down that way they come out for a blessin' and give me enough food and drink to hold me for a long while.»

«Are you a holy man?» I asked.

«I just pretend,» he said. «Makes them happy and keeps me fed. Don't go tellin' that, though.»

«Of course not. They wouldn't believe me, anyway.»

He laughed again. «You're right.»

I got to my feet and walked back along the hail a little way, so that I could see the Keep once again. The ladders were on the ground, and I beheld even more scattered dead. I saw no signs of the struggle within.

«Is the gate open yet?» Dave called.

«No. I don't think the ones who got in were sufficient to the task.»

«Is that green and black banner anywhere in sight?»

«I can't see it anywhere.»

He rose and came over, carrying both bottles. He passed me mine and we both took a drink. The ground troops began to fall back from the area before the wall.

«Think they're giving up or re-forming for another rush?» he asked me.

«Can't say yet,» I told him.

«Whichever it is, there should be a lot of good loot down there tonight. Stick around and you'll have all you can carry.»

«I'm curious,» I said, «why Dalt would be attacking again, if he's on good terms with the queen and her son.»

«I think it's just the son,» he said, «and he's gone. The old lady's supposed to be a real bitch. And after all, the guy is a mercenary. Maybe Kasman hired him to go after her.»

«Maybe she's not even in there,» I said, having no idea how this time stream ran, but thinking of my recent encounter with the lady. The image of it, though, caused a strange train of thought.

«What's the prince's name, anyway?» I asked.

«Rinaldo,» he answered. «He's a big red-haired guy.»

«She's his mother!» I said involuntarily.

He laughed. «That's how you get to be a prince,» he said. «Have the queen be your mother.»

But then, that would mean… «Brand!» I said. Then, «Brand of Amber.»

He nodded. «You've heard the story.»

«Not really. Just that much,» I replied. «Tell it to me.»

«Well, she snared herself an Amberite - the prince called Brand,» he said. «Rumor had it they met over some magical operation and it was love at first blood. She wanted to keep him, and I've heard it said they actually were married in a secret ceremony. But he wasn't interested in the throne of Kashfa, though he was the only one she might have been willing to see on it. He traveled a lot, was away for long stretches of time. I've heard it said that he was responsible for the Days of Darkness years ago, and that he died in a great battle between Chaos and Amber at that time, at the hands of his kinsmen.»

«Yes,» I said, and Dave gave me a strange look, half puzzlement, half scrutiny. «Tell me more about Rinaldo,» I said quickly.

«Not much to say,» he replied. «She bore him, and I've heard she taught him something of her Arts. He didn't know his father all that well, Brand being away so much. Kind of a wild kid. Ran away any number of times and hung out with a band of outlaws -»

«Dalt's people?» I asked.

He nodded. «Rode with them, they say - even though his mother'd placed bounties on many of their heads at that time.»

«Wait a minute. You say that she really hated these outlaws and mercenaries -»

«Hate' may be the wrong word. She'd never bothered about them before, but when her son got friendly with them I think she just got mad.»

«She thought they were a bad influence?»

«No, I think she didn't like it that he'd run to them and they'd take him in whenever he had a falling out with her.»

«Yet you say that she saw Dalt paid off out of the Keep's treasure and allowed him to ride away, after they'd forced her hand against Sharu Garrul.»

«Yup. Big argument at the time, too, between Rinaldo and his mom, over just that point. And she finally gave in. That's the way I heard it from a couple of guys who were there. One of the few times the boy actually stood up to her and won, they say. In fact, that's why the guys deserted. She ordered all witnesses to their argument executed, they told me. They were the only ones managed to get away.»

«Tough lady.»

«Yup.»

We walked on back to the area where we'd been seated and ate some more food. The song of the wind rose in pitch and a storm began out at sea. I asked Dave about big doglike creatures, and he told me that packs of them would probably be feasting on the battle's victims tonight. They were native to the area.

«We divide the spoils,» he said. «I want the rations, the wine and any valuables. They just want the dead.»

«What good are the valuables to you?» I said.

He looked suddenly apprehensive, as if I were considering the possibility of robbing him.

«Oh, it don't really amount to much. It's just that I've always been a thrifty person,» he said, «and I make it sound more important than it is. «You never can tell,» he added.

«That's true,» I agreed.

«How'd you get here anyway, Merle?» he asked quickly, as if to get my mind off the subject of his loot.

«Walked,» I said.

«That don't sound right. Nobody comes here willingly.»

«I didn't know I was coming here. Don't think I'll be staying long either,» I said, as I saw him take up the small knife and begin toying with it. «No sense going below and begging after hospitality at a time like this.»

«That's true,» he remarked.

Was the old coot actually thinking of attacking me, to protect his cache? He could be more than a little mad by now, living up here alone in his stinking cave, pretending to be a saint.

«Would you be interested in returning to Kashfa,» I said, «if I could set you on the right trail?»

He gave me a crafty look. «You don't know that much about Kashfa,» he said, «or you wouldn't have been asking me all those questions. Now you say you can send me home?»

«I take it you're not interested?»

He sighed. «Not really, not any more. It's too late now. This is my home. I enjoy being a hermit.»

I shrugged. «Well, thanks for feeding me, and thanks for all the news.» I got to my feet.

«Where are you going now?» he asked.

«I think I'll look around some, then head for home.» I backed away from that small lunatic glow in his eyes.

He raised the knife, his grip tightened on it. Then he lowered it and cut another piece of cheese.

«Here, you can take some of the cheese with you if you want,» he said.

«No, that's okay. Thanks.»

«Just trying to save you some money. Have a good trip.»

«Right. Take it easy.»

I heard his chuckling all the way back to the trail. Then the wind drowned it.

I spent the next several hours reconnoitering. I moved around in the hills. I descended into the steaming, quaking lands. I walked along the seashore. I passed through the rear of the normal-seeming area and crossed the neck of the ice field. In all of this, I stayed as far from the Keep itself as possible. I wanted to fix the place as firmly in mind as I could, so that I could End my way back through Shadow rather than crossing a threshold the hard way. I saw several packs of wild dogs on my journey, but they were more intent upon the battle's corpses than anything that moved.

There were oddly inscribed boundary stones at each topographical border, and I found myself wondering whether they were mapmakers' aids or something more. Finally, I wrestled one from the burning land over about fifteen feet into a region of ice and snow. I was knocked down almost immediately by a heavy tremor; I was able to scramble away in time, however, from the opening of a crevice and the spewing of geysers. The hot area claimed that small slice of the cold land in less than half an hour. Fortunately, I moved quickly to get out of the way of any further turmoil, and I observed the balance of these phenomena from a distance. But there was more to come.

I crouched back among the rocks, having reached the foothills of the range from which I had started by crossing through a section of the volcanic area. There, I rested and watched for a time while that small segment of terrain rearranged itself and the wind smeared smoke and steam across the land. Rocks bounced and rolled; dark carrion birds went out of their way to avoid what had to be some interesting thermals.

Then I beheld a movement which I first assumed to be seismic in origin. The boundary stone I had shifted rose slightly and jogged to the side. A moment later, however, and it was elevated even farther, appearing almost as if it had been levitated slightly above the ground. Then it drifted across the blasted area, moving in a straight line at a uniform speed, until - as nearly as I could judge - it had recovered its earlier position. And there it settled. Moments later the turmoil recommenced, and this time it was a jolting shrug of the ice sheet, jerking back, reclaiming the invaded area.

I called up my Logrus sight, and I was able to make out a dark glow surrounding the stone. This was connected by a long, straight, steady stream of light of the same general hue, extending from a high rear tower of the Keep. Fascinating. I would have given a lot for a view of the interior of that place.

Then, born with a sigh, maturing to a whistle, a whirlwind rose from the disputed area, growing, graying, swaying, to advance suddenly toward me like the swung proboscis of some cloudy, sky-high elephant. I turned and climbed higher, weaving my way amid rocks and around the shoulders of hillsides. The thing pursued, as if there were an intelligence guiding its movements. And the way it hung together while traversing that irregular terrain indicated an artificial nature, which in this place most likely meant magic.

It takes some time to determine an appropriate magical defense, and even more time to bring it into being. Unfortunately, I was only about a minute ahead of the posse, and that margin was probably dwindling.

When I spotted the long narrow crevice beyond the next turning, jagged as a limb of lightning, I paused only an instant to peer into its depth, and then I was descending, my tattered garments lashed about me, the windy tower a rumbling presence at my back…

The way ran deep and so did I, following its jogs, its twistings. The rumble rose to a roar, and I coughed at the cloud of dust that engulfed me. A hailstorm of gravel assailed me. I threw myself Bat then, about eight feet below the surface of the land, and covered my head with my arms, for I believed that the thing was about to pass directly above me.

I muttered warding spells as I lay there, despite their minuscule parrying effect at this distance against such an energy-intensive manifestation. I did not jump up when the silence came. It could be that the tornado's driver had withdrawn support and collapsed the funnel on seeing that I might be out of reach. It could also be the eye of the storm, with more to come, by and by.

While I did not jump up, I did look up, because I hate to miss educational opportunities.

And there was the face - or, rather, the mask - at the center of the storm, regarding me. It was a projection, of course, larger than life and not fully substantial. The head was cowled; the mask was full and cobalt bright and strongly reminiscent of the sort worn by goalies in ice hockey; there were two vertical breathing slits from which pale smoke emerged - a touch too theatrical For my taste; a lower series of random punctures was designed to give the impression of a sardonically lopsided mouth. A distorted sound of laughter came down to me from it.

«Aren't you overdoing it a bit?» I said, coming up into a crouch and raising the Logrus between us. «For a kid on Halloween, yes. But we're all adults here, aren't we? A simple domino would probably serve -»

«You moved my stone!» it said.

«I've a certain academic interest in such matters,» I offered, easing myself into the extensions. «Nothing to get upset about. Is that you, Jasra? I -»

The rumbling began again, softly at first, then building once more.

«I'll make a deal,» I said. «You call off the storm, and I'll promise not to move any more markers.»

Again, the laughter as the storm sounds rose.

«Too late,» came the reply. «Too late for you. Unless you're a lot tougher than you look.»

What the hell! The battle is not always to the strong, and nice guys tend to win because they're the ones who get to write their memoirs. I'd been fiddling with the Logrus projections against the insubstantiality of the mask until I found the link, the opening leading back to its source. I stabbed through it - a thing on the order of an electrical discharge - at whatever lay behind.

There came a scream. The mask collapsed, the storm collapsed, and I was on my feet and running again. When whatever I'd hit recovered I did not want to be in the same place I had been because that place might be subject to sudden disintegration.

I had a choice of cutting off into Shadow or seeking an even faster path of retreat. If a sorcerer were to tag me as I started shadow-slipping I could be followed. So I dug out my Trumps and shuffled forth Random's. I rounded the next fuming of the way then, and I would have had to halt there anyway, I saw, because it narrowed to a width impossible for me to pass. I raised the card and reached with my mind.

There followed contact, almost immediately. But even as the images solidified I felt a probe. I was certain that it was my blue-masked nemesis seeking me once more.

But Random came clear, seated before a drum set, sticks in hand. He set aside the drumsticks and rose.

«It's about time,» he said, and he extended his hand.

Even as I reached I felt something rushing toward me. As our fingers touched and I stepped forward, they burst about me like a giant wave.

I passed through into the music room in Amber. Random had opened his mouth to speak again when the cascade of flowers fell upon us.

Brushing violets from his shirtfront, he regarded me.

«I'd rather you said it with words,» he remarked.

Chapter 4

Portrait of the artists, purposes crossed, temperature falling,…

Sunny afternoon, and walking through small park following light lunch, us, prolonged silences and monosyllabic responses to conversational sallies indicating all's not well at other end of communication's taut line. Upon bench, seated then, facing flower beds, souls catch up with bodies, words with thoughts…

«Okay, Merle. What's the score?» she asks.

«I don't know what game you're talking about, Julia.»

«Don't get cute. All I want's a straight answer.»

«What's the question?»

«That place you took me, from the beach, that night… Where was it?»

«It was - sort of a dream.»

«Bullshit!» She turns sideways to face me fully, and I must meet those flashing eyes without my face giving anything away. «I've been back there, several times, looking for the way we took, There is no cave. There's nothing! What happened to it? What's going on?»

«Maybe the tide came in and -»

«Merle! What kind of an idiot do you take me for? That walk we took isn't on the maps. Nobody around here's ever heard of anything like those places. It was geographically impossible. The times of day and the seasons kept shifting. The only explanation is supernatural or paranormal - whatever you want to call it, What happened? You owe me an answer and you know it. What happened? Where were you?»

I look away, past my feet, past the flowers. «I - can't say.»

«Why not?»

«I -» What could I say? It was not only that telling her of Shadow would disturb, perhaps destroy, her view of reality. At the heart of my problem lay the realization that it would also require telling her how I knew this, which would mean telling her who I am, where I am from, what I am - and I was afraid to give her this knowledge. I told myself that it would end our relationship as surely as telling her nothing would; and if it must end either way, I would rather we parted without her possessing this knowledge. Later, much later, I was to see this for the rationalization it was; my real reason for denying her the answers she desired was that I was not ready to trust her, or anyone, so close to me as I really am. Had I known her longer, better - another year, say - I might have answered her. I don't know. We never used the word «love,» though it must have run through her mind on occasion, as it did through mine. It was, I suppose, that I didn't love her enough to trust her, and then it was too late. So, «I can't tell you;» were my words.

«You have some power that you will not share.»

«Call it that, then.»

«I would do whatever you say, promise whatever you want promised.»

«There is a reason, Julia.»

She is on her feet, arms akimbo. «And you won't even share that.»

I shake my head.

«It must be a lonely world you inhabit, magician, if even those who love you are barred from it.»

At that moment it seems she is simply trying her last trick for getting an answer from me. I screw my resolve yet tighter. «I didn't say that.»

«You didn't have to. It is your silence that tells me, If you know the road to Hell too, why not head that way? Good-bye!»

«Julia. Don't…»

She chooses not to hear me. Still life with flowers…

Awakening, Night. Autumn wind beyond my window. Dreams. Blood of life without the body…, swirling…, I swung my feet out of bed and sat rubbing my eyes, my temples. It had been sunny and afternoon when I'd finished telling Random my story, and he'd sent me to get some shuteye afterward. I was suffering from shadow lag and felt completely turned around at the moment, though I was not certain exactly what the hour might be.

I stretched, got up, repaired myself and donned fresh clothing. I knew that I would not be able to get back to sleep; also, I was feeling hungry. I took a warm cloak with me as I departed my quarters. I felt like going out rather than raiding the larder. I was in the mood for some walking, and I hadn' been outside the palace and into town in years, I guessed. I made my way downstairs, then cut through a few chambers and a big hall, connecting up at the rear with a corridor I could have followed all the way from the stair if I'd cared to, but then I'd have missed a couple of tapestries I'd wanted to say hello to: an idyllic sylvan scene, with a couple making out following a picnic lunch; and a hunting scene of dogs and men pursuing a magnificent stag, which looks as if it might yet have a chance of getting away, if it will dare a stupendous leap that lies ahead…

I passed through and made my way up the corridor to a postern, where a bored-looking guard named Jordy suddenly strove to seem attentive when he heard me coming. I stopped to pass the time with him and learned that he didn't get off duty till midnight, which was almost two hours away.

«I'm heading down into town,» I said. «Where's a good place to eat this time of night?»

«What've you got a taste for?»

«Seafood,» I decided.

«Well, Fiddler's Green - about two thirds of the way down the Main Concourse - is very good for seafood. It's a fancy place…»

I shook my head. «I don't want a fancy place,» I said.

«The Net's still supposed to be good - down near the comer of the Smiths and Ironmongers Street. It's not real fancy.»

«But you wouldn't go there yourself?»

«Used to,» he replied. «But a number of the nobles and big merchants discovered it recently. I'd feel kind of uncomfortable there these days. It's gotten sort of clubby.»

«Hell! I don't want conversation or atmosphere. I just want some nice fresh fish. Where would you go for the best?»

«Well, it's a long walk. But if you go all the way down to the docks, at the back of the cove, it's a little to the west… But maybe you shouldn't. It's kind of late, and that isn't the best neighborhood after dark.»

«Is that by any chance Death Alley?»

«They do sometimes call it that, sir, as bodies are occasionally found there of a morning. Maybe you'd better go to the Net, seeing as you're alone.»

«Gerard took me through that area once, during the day. I think I could find my way around it, all right. What's the name of the place?»

«Uh, Bloody Bill's.»

«Thanks. I'll say hi to Bill for you.»

He shook his head. «Can't. It was renamed after the manner of his demise. His cousin Andy runs it now.»

«Oh. What was it called before?»

«Bloody Sam's,» he said.

Well, what the hell. I bade him a good night and set out walking. I took the path to the short stairway down the slope, which led to the walkway through a garden and over to a side gate, where another guard let me out. It was a cool night with the breezed smells of autumn burning down the world about me. I drew it into my lungs and sighed it out again as I headed for the Main Concourse, the distant, almost-forgotten, slow clopping sounds of hoofs on cobbles coming to me like something out of dream or memory. The night was moonless but filled with stars, and the concourse below Banked by globes of phosphorescent liquid set atop high poles, long-tailed mountain moths darting about them.

When I reached the avenue I strolled. A few closed carriages rolled by as I passed along the way. An old man walking a tiny green dragon on a chain leash touched his hat to me as I passed and said, «Good evening.» He had seen the direction from which I had come, though I was sure he did not recognize me. My face is not that well-known about town. My spirits loosened a bit after a time, and I felt a spring come into my step.

Random had not been as angry as I'd thought he might. Since Ghostwheel had not been stirring up any trouble, he had not charged me to go after it immediately and try again for a shutdown. He had merely told me to think about it and come up with the best course of action we might pursue. And Flora had been in touch earlier and told him who Luke was - a thing that seemed to have eased his mind somehow, knowing the identity of the enemy. Though I'd asked, he would not tell me what plans he might have formulated for dealing with him. He did allude to the recent dispatch of an agent to Kashfa, though, to obtain certain unspecified information. The thing that seemed to trouble him the most, actually, was the possibility that the outlaw Dalt was still to be numbered among the living.

«Something about that man…» Random began.

«What?» I'd asked.

«For one thing, I saw Benedict run him through. That generally tends to terminate a person's career.»

«Tough son of a bitch,» I said. «Or damn lucky. Or both.»

«If he is the same man, he's the son of the Desacratrix. You've heard of her?»

«Deela,» I said. «Wasn't that her name? Some sort of religious fanatic? Militant?»

Random nodded. «She caused a lot of trouble out around the periphery of the Golden Circle - mostly near Begma. You ever been there?»

«No.»

«Well, Begma's the nearest point on the circle to Kashfa, which is what makes your story particularly interesting. She'd raided a lot in Begma and they couldn't handle her by themselves. They finally reminded us of the protection alliance we have with almost all the Circle kingdoms - and Dad decided to go in personally and teach her a lesson. She'd burned one Unicorn shrine too many. He took a small force, defeated her troops, took her prisoner and hanged a bunch of her men. She escaped, though, and a couple of years later when she was all but forgotten she came back with a fresh force and started the same crap all over. Begma screamed again, but Dad was busy. He sent Bleys in with a larger force. There were several inconclusive engagements - they were raiders, not a regular army - but Bleys finally cornered them and wiped them out. She died that day, leading her troops.»

«And Dalt's her son?»

«That's the story, and it makes some sense, because he did everything he could to harass us for a long time. He was after revenge, pure and simple, for his mother's death. Finally, he put together a fairly impressive fighting force and tried to raid Amber. Got a lot farther than you'd think, right up to Kolvir. But Benedict was waiting, his pet regiment at his back. Benedict cut them to pieces, and it sure looked as if he'd wounded Dalt mortally. A few of his men were able to carry him off the field, so we never saw the body. But hell! Who cared?»

«And you think he could be the same guy who was Luke's friend when he was a kid - and later?»

«Well, the age is about right and he seems to hail from that same general area. I suppose it's possible.»

I mused as I strolled. Jasra hadn't really liked the guy, according to the hermit. So what was his part in things now? Too many unknowns, I decided. It would take knowledge rather than reasoning to answer that one. So let it ride and go enjoy dinner…

I continued on down the concourse. Near to its farther end I heard laughter and saw where some hardy drinkers still occupied a few tables at a sidewalk cafe. One of them was Droppa, but he didn't spot me and I passed on. I did not feel like being amused. I fumed onto Weavers Street, which would take me over to where West Vine wound its way up from the harbor district. A tall masked lady in a silver cloak hurried by and into a waiting carriage. She glanced back once and smiled beneath her domino. I was certain that I didn't know her, and I found myself wishing I did. It was a pretty smile. Then a gust of wind brought me the smokesmell of someone's fireplace and rattled a few dead leaves as it went by. I wondered where my father was.

Down along the street then and left on West Vine… Narrower here than the concourse, but still wide; a greater distance between lights, but still sufficiently illuminated for night travelers. A pair of horsemen clopped slowly by, singing a song I did not recognize. Something large and dark passed overhead a bit later, to settle upon a roof across the street. A few scratching noises came from that direction, then silence. I followed a curve to the right, then another to the left, entering what I knew to be a long series of switchbacks. My way grew gradually steeper. A harbor breeze came up at some point a little later, bearing me my first salt sea smells of the evening. A short while afterward-two turns, I believe-and I had a view of the sea itself, far below; bobbing lights on a sparkling, swelling slickness over black, pent by the curving line of bright dots, Harbor Road. To the east the sky was powdered slightly. A hint of horizon appeared at the edge of the world. I thought I caught a glimpse of the distant light of Cabra minutes later, then lost it again with another turning of the way.

A puddle of light like spilled milk pulsed on the street to my right, outlining a ghostly gridwork of cobbles at its farthest downhill reach; the stippled pole above it might advertise some spectral barbershop; the cracked globe at its top still showed a faint phosphorescence, skull-on-astick style, reminding me of a game we used to play as kids back in the Courts. A few lighted footprints proceeded downhill away from it, faint, fainter, gone. I passed on, and across the distance I heard the cries of sea birds. Autumn's smells were submerged in ocean's. The powdered light beyond my left shoulder rose higher about the water, drifted forward across the wrinkled face of the deep. Soon…

My appetite grew as I walked. Ahead, I beheld another dark-cloaked stroller on the other side of the street, a slight glowing at the edges of the boots. I thought of the fish I would soon be eating and hurried, breasting the figure and passing. A cat in a doorway paused at licking her asshole to watch me go by, hind leg held vertical the while. Another horseman passed, this one headed up the hill. I heard the fringes of an argument between a man and a woman from upstairs in one of the darkened buildings. Another turning and the shoulder of the moon came into sight like some magnificent beast surfacing, shrugging droplets From bright bathic grottoes…

Ten minutes later I had reached the port district and found my way over to Harbor Road, its lack of all but occasional globes supplemented by window spillage, a number of buckets of burning pitch and the glow of the now-risen moon. The smells of salt and sea-wrack were more intense here, the road more cluttered with trash, the passersby more colorfully garbed and noisier than any on the concourse, unless you counted Droppa. I made my way to the rear of the cove, where the sounds of the sea came to me more strongly: the rushing, building advances of waves, then their crashing and splashing out beyond the breakwater; the gentler falls and slopping withdrawals nearer at hand; the creaking of ships, the rattling of chains, the bumping of some smaller vessel at pier or moor post. I wondered where the Starburst, my old sailboat, might be now.

I followed the curve of the road over to the western shore of the harbor. A pair of rats chased a black cat across my path as I wandered briefly, checking several sidestreets for the one I sought. The smells of barf as well as solid and liquid human waste mingled with other odors here, and I heard the cries, crashes and thuds of a struggle from somewhere nearby, leading me to believe that I was in the proper neighborhood. From somewhere distant a buoy bell rattled; from somewhere nearby I heard an almost bored-sounding string of curses preceding a pair of sailors who rounded the nearest corner to my right, reeling, staggered on past me, grinning, and broke into song moments later, receding. I advanced and checked the sign on that comer. SEABREEZE LANE, it read.

That was it, the stretch commonly called Death Alley. I turned there. It was just a street like any other. I didn't see any corpses or even collapsed drunks for the first fifty paces, though a man in a doorway tried to sell me a dagger and a mustachioed stock character offered to fix me up with something young and tight. I declined both, and learned from the latter that I wasn't all that far from Bloody Bill's. I walked on. My occasional glances showed me three dark-cloaked figures far to the rear which, I supposed, could be following me; I had seen them back on Harbor Road too. Also, they might not. In that I was not feeling particularly paranoid, I reflected that they could be anybody going anywhere and decided to ignore them. Nothing happened. They kept to themselves, and when I finally located Bloody Bill's and entered they passed on by, crossing the street and going into a small bistro a little farther down along the way.

I turned and regarded Bill's. The bar was to my right, tables to my left, suspicious-looking stains on the floor. A board on the wall suggested I give my order at the bar and say where I was sitting. The day's catch was chalked beneath this.

So I went over and waited, collecting glances, until a heavy-set man with gray and amazingly shaggy brows came over and asked what I wanted. I told him the blue sea scut and pointed at an empty table to the rear. He nodded and shouted my order back through a hole in the wall, then asked me whether I wanted a bottle of Bayle's Piss to go with it. I did, he got it for me, and a glass, uncorked it and passed it over. I paid up there, headed back to the table I had chosen and seated myself with my back to the wall.

Oil flames flickered through dirty chimneys in brackets all about the place. Three men - two young, one middle-aged - played cards at the corner table in the front and passed a bottle. An older man sat alone at the table to my left, eating. He had a nasty-looking scar running both above and below his left eye, and there was a long wicked blade about six inches out of its scabbard resting on the chair to his right. He, too, had his back to the wall. Men with musical instruments rested at another table: between numbers, I guessed. I poured some of the yellow wine into my glass and took a sip: a distinctive taste I remembered from across the years. It was okay for quaffing. Baron Bayle owned a number of vineyards about thirty miles to the east. He was the official vintner to the Court, and his red wines were generally excellent. He was less successful with the whites, though, and often wound up dumping a lot of second-rate stuff onto the local market. It bore his emblem and a picture of a dog - he liked dogs so it was sometimes called Dog Piss and sometimes Bayle's Piss, depending on who you talked to. Dog lovers sometimes take offense at the former appellation.

About the time my food arrived I noticed that two young men near the front of the bar were glancing in my direction more than occasionally, exchanging a few indistinguishable words and laughing and smiling a lot. I ignored them and fumed my attention to my meal. A little later the scarred man at the next table said softly, without leaning or looking toward me, his lips barely moving, «Free advice. I think those two guys at the bar noticed you're not wearing a blade, and they've marked you for trouble.»

«Thanks,» I said.

Well… I was not overly concerned about my ability to deal with them, but given a choice I'd rather avoid the occasion entirely. If all that it required was a visible blade, that was easily remedied.

A moment's meditation and the Logrus danced before me. Shortly thereafter, I was reaching through it in search of the proper weapon neither too long nor too heavy, properly balanced, with a comfortable grip with a wide dark belt and scabbard. It took me close to three minutes, partly because I was so fussy about it, I suppose - but hell, if prudence required one, I wanted comfort and partly because it is harder reaching through Shadow in the vicinity of Amber than it is almost anywhere else.

When it came into my hands I sighed and mopped my brow. Then I brought it up slowly from beneath the table, belt and all, drew it about half a foot from its scabbard, to follow a good example, and placed it on the seat to my right. The two guys at the bar caught the performance and I grinned back at them. They had a quick consultation, and this time they weren't laughing. I poured myself a fresh glass of wine and drank it off at a single draught. Then I returned to my fish, about which Jordy had been right. The food here was very good.

«Neat trick, that,» the man at the next table said. «I don't suppose it's an easy one to team?»

«Nope.»

«It figures. Most good things aren't, or everybody'd do 'em. They may still go after you, though, seeing as you're alone. Depends on how much they drink and how reckless they get. You worried?»

«Nope.»

«Didn't think so. But they'll hit someone tonight.»

«How can you tell?»

He looked at me for the first time and grinned a nasty grin. «They're generic, like wind-up toys. See you around.»

He tossed a coin onto the table, stood, buckled on his sword belt, picked up a dark, feathered hat and headed for the door.

«Take care.» I nodded.

«Night.» As he passed out of the place the two guys began whispering again, this time glancing after him rather than at me. Some decision reached, they rose and departed quickly. For a moment I was tempted to follow, but something restrained me. A little later, I heard the sounds of a scuffle from up the street. Not too long after that, a figure appeared in the doorway, hovered a moment, then fell forward. It was one of the two drinkers. His throat had been cut.

Andy shook his head and dispatched his waiter to inform the local constabulary. Then he took hold of the body by the heels and dragged it outside, so as not to impede the flow of customers.

Later, when I was ordering another fish, I asked Andy about the occurrence. He smiled grimly.

«It is not good to mess with an emissary of the Crown,» he said. «They tend to pick them tough.»

«That guy who was sitting next to me works for Random?»

He studied my face, then nodded. «Old John worked for Oberon, too. Whenever he passes through he eats here.»

«I wonder what sort of mission he was on?»

He shrugged. «Who knows? But he paid me in Kashfan currency, and I know he ain't from Kashfa.»

As I worked on my second platter I pondered that one. Whatever it was that Random had wanted from Kashfa was probably on its way to the castle right now, unless of course it was unavailable. It would almost have to concern Luke and Jasra. I wondered what it was, and of what benefit it might be.

I sat there for a long while after that, thinking, and the place was a lot less noisy than it had been for most of an hour, even when the musicians began a fresh set. Had it been John the guys had been watching all along, with both of us misinterpreting their gazes as directed toward me? Or had they simply decided to go after the first person who left alone? I realized from these reflections that I was beginning to think like an Amberite again - seeking plots everywhere - and I hadn't been back all that long.

Something in the atmosphere, I guessed. Probably it was a good thing that my mind was moving along these lines once more, since I was involved in so much already and it seemed an investment in self-preservation.

I finished my glass of wine and left the bottle on the table with a few drinks still in it. It occurred to me that I shouldn't be fogging my senses any further, all things considered. I rose and buckled on my sword belt.

As I passed the bar Andy nodded. «If you run into anyone from the palace,» he said softly, «you might mention that I didn't know that was going to happen.»

«You knew them?»

«Yeah. Sailors. Their ship came in a couple of days ago. They've been in trouble here before. Blow their pay fast, then look for some more the quick way.»

«Do you think they might be professionals at - removing people?»

«Because of John's being what he is, you mean? No. They got caught once too often, mainly for being stupid. Sooner or later they were bound to run into someone who knew what he was doing and end up this way. I don't know anyone who'd hire them for something serious.»

«Oh, he got the other one too?»

«Yep. Up the street a way. So you might mention that they just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.»

I stared at him and he winked.

«I saw you down here with Gerard, several years ago. I make it a point never to forget a face that might be worth remembering.»

I nodded. «Thanks. You serve a good meal.»

Outside, it was cooler than it had been earlier. The moon hung higher and the sea was noisier. The street was deserted in my immediate vicinity. Loud music poured from one of the places back toward Harbor Street, with accompanying sounds of laughter. I glanced within as I passed it and saw where a tired-looking woman on a small stage appeared to be giving herself a gynecological examination. From somewhere nearby I heard a sound of breaking glass. A drunk reeled toward me from between two buildings, one hand outstretched. I walked on. The wind sighed amid masts in the harbor, and I found myself wishing Luke were at my sidelike in the old days, before things got complicated - someone of my own age and cast of mind to talk to. All my relatives here had too many centuries of cynicism or wisdom for us to see things and feel them in much the same way.

Ten paces later, Frakir pulsed wildly upon my wrist. In that there was no one anywhere near me at that moment,I did not even draw my new blade. I threw myself flat, then rolled toward the shadows to my right. Simultaneous with this, I heard a thunk from the side of the building across the street. The first glance I could spare in that direction showed me an arrow protruding from a wall, its height and position such that had I not taken the dive it might well have hit me. Its angle also indicated that I had just cast myself in the direction from which it had been discharged.

I raised myself enough to draw my blade and looked to my right. There were no opened windows or doors in the immediately adjacent building, a darkened place, its front wall only about six feet away now. But there was a gap between it and the buildings on either side, and geometry told me that the arrow had come from the open area ahead of me.

I rolled again, bringing myself up beside the low, roofed porch which ran the full width of the place. I scrambled up onto it before I rose fully. Staying near the wall I advanced, cursing the slowness silence demanded. I was almost near enough to the opening to be able to rush any archer who might step out, before he could release another arrow. The possibility of his circling and catching me from behind did pass through my mind, though, and I flattened myself against the wall, blade extended forward, and cast quick glances behind as I moved. Frakir writhed into my left hand and hung ready.

If I reached the corner and no one emerged I was uncertain what I would do next. The situation seemed to demand a magical offensive. But unless the spells were already hung - and I'd been remiss in this - one can seldom spare the attention it requires in life-and-death situations. I halted. I controlled my breathing. I listened…

He was being careful, but I heard faint sounds of movement from the roof, coming forward. But this did not preclude another, or even several, being around the comer. I had no idea how many persons might be involved in this ambush, though it was beginning to strike me as a little too sophisticated for a simple robbery. In such a case, I doubted there would be only one. And their forces might be split several ways. I held my position, my mind racing. When the attack came, it would be concerted, I was certain of that. I imagined an archer around the corner, arrow pocked, waiting for a signal. The one on the roof would most likely have a blade. I guessed at blades for any others, too…

I pushed aside any questions as to who might be after me and how they had located me here - if it were indeed me, personally, whom they were after. Such considerations made no difference at this point. I would be just as dead were they random thugs seeking my purse as I would be if they were assassins, should they succeed in the present enterprise.

Again. A sound from above. Someone was directly overhead. Any moment now…

With a shuffling noise and a great cry a man leaped from the roof to the street before me. His shout was apparently the signal to the archer, also, for there was immediate movement at the comer of the building, accompanied by the sounds of rapid footfalls from the building's other comer, to my rear.

Before his feet even struck the ground I had cast Frakir at the man from the roof with a command to kill. And I was rushing the archer before he had even rounded the corner completely, my blade already swinging. My cut passed through his bow, his arm and his lower abdomen. On the minus side, there was a man with a drawn blade right behind him and someone was running toward me along the porch.

I placed my left foot upon the folding archer's chest and propelled him backward into the man behind him. I used the recoiling momentum from the push to spin, my blade sweeping through a wide, wild pang, which I had to adjust immediately to stop a head cut from the man who had crossed the porch. As I riposted to his chest and had my own cut parried I became peripherally aware of the one from the roof kneeling now in the street and tearing at his throat, in evidence that Frakir was doing her job.

The man somewhere to my rear made my back feel very exposed. I had to do something fast or his blade would be in me within seconds. So… Rather than riposting, I pretended to stumble, actually gathering my weight, positioning myself.

He lunged, cutting downward. I sprang to the side and thrust with a twisting movement of my body. If he were able to adjust the angle of that cut as I moved I would feel it in seconds. Dangerous, but I couldn't see any other choice.

Even as my blade entered his chest I did not know whether he had connected with me. Not that it mattered now. Either he had or he hadn't. I had to keep moving until I stopped or was stopped.

I used my blade like a lever, turning him as I continued my counterclockwise movement, him at its center, hoping to position him between that fourth man and myself.

The maneuver was partly successful. It was too late to interpose my skewered and sagging adversary fully, but in time at least to cause a small collision between him and the other. Time enough, I hoped, as the other stumbled to the side, stepping down from the porch. All I needed do now was wrench my blade free, and it would be one-on-one.

I yanked at it…

Damn, damn, damn. The thing was wedged into bone and wouldn't come free. And the other man had regained his footing. I kept turning the body to keep it between us while with my left hand I tried to free my most recent adversary's own blade from his still-clenched right fist.

Ditto the damns. It was locked in a death grip, his lingers like metal cables about the haft.

The man in the street gave me a nasty smile while moving his blade about, looking for an opening. It was then that I caught the flash of the blue-stone ring he wore, answering my question as to whether it was me in particular who had been sought, here, tonight.

I bent my knees as I moved and positioned my hands low upon the dead man's body.

Situations such as this are, for me, sometimes videotaped into memory - a total absence of conscious thought and a great mass of instant perceptions - timeless, yet only subject to serial review when the mind indulges in later replay.

There were cries from various places along the street, from within and without. I could hear people rushing in my direction. There was blood on the boards all around me, and I recall cautioning myself not to slip on it. I could see the archer and his bow, both of them broken, on the ground past the far edge of the porch. The garroted swordsman was sprawled in the street, off to the right of the man who menaced me now. The body I steered and positioned had become dead weight. To my small relief I saw that no more attackers had emerged from anywhere to join the final man I faced. And that man was sidestepping and feinting, getting ready to make his rush.

Okay. Time.

I propelled the corpse toward my attacker with all my strength and did not wait to observe the result of my action. The risk I was about to take granted me no time for such indulgence.

I dove into the street and did a shoulder roll past the supine figure, who had dropped his blade in trying to use his hands against Frakir. As I moved I heard the sound of some impact followed by a grunt from above and somewhere to the rear, indicating that I had been at least partly on target when I'd pushed the dead man toward the other. How effectively this would serve me still remained to be seen.

My right hand snaked out as I went by, catching the hilt of the fallen man's blade. I rolled to my feet, facing back in the direction from which I had come, extending the blade, crossing my legs and springing backward…

Barely in time. He was upon me with a strong series of attacks, and I backed away fast, parrying wildly. He was still smiling, but my first riposte slowed his advance and my second one stopped it.

I settled and stood my ground. He was strong, but I could see that I was faster. There were people near at hand now, watching us. A few shouts of useless advice reached me. To which of us it was directed, I could not say. It didn't matter, though. He stood for a few moments as I began to press my attack, and then he began to give ground, slowly, and I was sure that I could take him.

I wanted him alive, though, which would make things a little more difficult. That blue-stoned ring flashing and retreating before me held a mystery to which he had the answer, and I needed that answer. Therefore, I had to keep pressing him, to wear him down…

I tried turning him, a little at a time, as subtly as I could. I was hoping to press him into stumbling over the dead man to his rear. It almost worked, too.

When his rear foot fell upon the arm of the sprawled man, he shifted his weight forward to maintain his balance. In one of those instants of inspiration on which one must act immediately without thinking, he turned this movement into a rush, seeing that my blade was out of line in preparation for the heavy rush I was about to give him as he stumbled. Wrong of me to have anticipated that much, I guess.

He beat my blade cross-body with a heavy swing, throwing his own weapon way out of line also and bringing us corps b corps, with him turning in the same direction I was facing and unfortunately providing him with the opportunity to drive his left fist into my right kidney with the full force of his momentum.

Immediately, his left foot shot out to trip me, and the impact of the blow as we came together showed me that he was going to succeed. The best thing I could manage was to catch hold of my cloak with my left hand, spinning it out and dragging it back, entangling both our blades as we fell, while I tried hard to turn on the way down, so as to land on top of him. I did not succeed in falling upon him. We came down side by side, still facing each other, and the guard of someone's blade - my own, I think - hit me hard in the ribs on my left side.

My right hand was caught beneath me and my left was still tangled in my cloak. His left was free, though, and high. He clawed at my face with it, and I bit his hand but couldn't hold it. In the meantime, I finally managed to drag my own left hand free and I thrust it into his face. He turned his head away, tried to knee me and hit my hip, then thrust stiff fingers toward my eyes. I caught his wrist and held it. Both of our right hands were still pinned and our weights seemed about equal. So all that I had to do was squeeze.

The bones of his wrist crunched within my grip, and for the first time he cried out. Then I simply pushed him away, rolled into a kneeling position and started to rise, dragging him up along with me. End of the game. I had won.

He slumped suddenly against me. For a moment, I thought it a final trick, and then I saw the blade protruding from his back, the hand of the grim-faced man who had put it there already tightening to pull it out again.

«You son of a bitch!» I cried in English - though I'm sure the meaning came through - and I dropped my burden and drove my fist into the stranger's face, knocking him over backward, his blade remaining in place. «I needed him!»

I caught hold of my former adversary and raised him into the most comfortable position I could manage.

«Who sent you?» I asked him. «How did you find me?»

He grinned weakly and dribbled blood. «No freebies here,» he said. «Ask somebody else,» and he slumped forward and got blood on my shirtfront.

I drew the ring from his finger and added it to my collection of goddamned blue stones. Then I rose and glared at the man who had stabbed him. Two other figures were helping him to his feet.

«Just what the hell did you do that for?» I asked, advancing upon them.

«I saved your damn life,» the man growled.

«The hell you did! You might have just cost me it! I needed that man alive!»

Then the figure to his left spoke, and I recognized the voice. She placed her hand lightly upon the arm I did not even realize I had raised to strike the man again.

«He did it on my orders,» she said. «I feared for your life, and I did not understand that you wanted him prisoner.»

I stared at her pale proud features within the dark cloak's raised cowl. It was Vinta Bayle, Caine's lady, whom I had last seen at the funeral. She was also the third daughter of the Baron Bayle, to whom Amber owed many a bibulous night.

I realized that I was shaking slightly. I drew a deep breath and caught control of myself.

«I see,» I said at last. «Thank you.»

«I am sorry,» she told me.

I shook my head. «You didn't know. What's done is done. I'm grateful to anybody who tries to help me.»

«I can still help you,» she said. «I might have misread this one, but I believe you may still be in danger. Let's get away from here.»

I nodded. «A moment, please.»

I went and retrieved Frakir from about the neck of the other dead man. She disappeared quickly into my left sleeve. The blade I had been using fit my scabbard after a fashion, so I pushed it home and adjusted the belt, which had pulled around toward the rear.

«Let's go,» I said to her.

The four of us strode back toward Harbor Street. Interested bystanders got out of our way quickly. Someone was probably already robbing the dead behind us. Things fall apart; the center cannot hold. But what the hell, it's home.

Chapter 5

Walking, with the Lady Vinta and two serving men of the House of Bayle, my side still hurting from its encounter with a sword hilt, beneath a moonbright, starbright sky, through a sea mist, away from Death Alley. Lucky, actually, that a bump on the side was all I acquired in my engagement with those who would do me harm. How they had located me so quickly upon my return, I could not say. But it seemed as if Vinta might have some idea about this, and I was inclined to trust her, both because I knew her somewhat and because she had lost her man, my Uncle Caine, to my former friend Luke, from whose party anything involving a blue stone seemed to have its origin.

When we turned onto a seaward side way off Harbor Street, I asked her what she had in mind.

«I thought we were heading for Vine,» I said.

«You know you are in danger,» she stated.

«I guess that's sort of obvious.»

«I could take you to my father's place up in town,» she said, «or we could escort you back to the palace, but someone knows you are here and it didn't take long to reach you.»

«True.»

«We have a boat moored down this way. We can sail along the coast and reach my father's country place by morning. You will have disappeared. Anyone seeking you in Amber will be foiled.»

«You don't think I'd be safe back in the palace?»

«Perhaps,» she said. «But your whereabouts may be known locally. Come with me and this won't be the case.»

«I'll be gone and Random will learn from one of the guards that I was heading for Death Alley. This will cause considerable consternation and a huge brouhaha.»

«You can reach him by Trump tomorrow and tell him that you're in the country - if you have your cards with you.»

«True. How did you know where to find me this evening? You can't persuade me that we met by coincidence.»

«No, we followed you. We were in the place across the way from Bill's.»

«You anticipated tonight's happenings?»

«I saw the possibility. If I'd known everything, of course I'd have prevented it.»

«What's going on? What do you know about all of this, and what's your part in it?»

She laughed, and I realized it was the first time I had ever heard her do it. It was not the cold, mocking thing I would have guessed at from Caine's lady.

«I want to sail while the tide is high,» she said, «and you want a story that will take all night. Which will it be, Merlin? Security or satisfaction?»

«I'd like both, but I'll take them in order.»

«Okay,» she said, then turned to the smaller of the two men, the one I had hit. «Jarl, go home. In the morning, tell my father that I decided to go back to Arbor House. Tell him it was a nice night and I wanted to sail, so I took the boat. Don't mention Merlin.»

The man touched his cap to her. «Very good, m'lady.» He turned and headed back along the way we had come.

«Come on,» she said to me then, and she and the big fellow - whose name I later learned was Drew led me down among the piers to where a long sleek sailboat was tied up. «Do much sailing?» she asked me.

«Used to,» I said.

«Good enough. You can give us a hand.»

Which I did. We didn't talk much except for business while we were getting unbuttoned and rigged and casting off. Drew steered and we worked the sails. Later, we were able to take turns for long spells. The wind wasn't tricky. In fact, it was just about perfect. We slid away, rounded the breakwater and made it out without any problems. Having stowed our cloaks, I saw that she wore dark trousers and a heavy shirt. Very practical, as if she'd planned for something like this ahead of time. The belt she stowed bore a real, full-length blade, not some jeweled dagger. And just from watching the way she moved, I'd a feeling she might be able to use the thing pretty well. Also, she reminded me of someone I couldn't quite place. It was more a matter of mannerisms of gesture and voice than it was of appearance. Not that it mattered. I had more important things to think about as soon as we settled into routine and I had a few moments to stare across the dark waters and do some quick reviewing.

I was familiar with the general facts of her life, and I had encountered her a number of times at social gatherings. I knew she knew that I was Corwin's son and that I had been born and raised in the Courts of Chaos, being half of that bloodline which was linked anciently with Amber's own. In our conversation the last time we met, it became apparent that she was aware that I had been off in Shadow for some years, going native and trying to pick up something of an education. Presumably, Uncle Caine had not wanted her ignorant of family matters - which led me to wonder how deeply their relationship might have run. I'd heard that they had been together for several years. So I wondered exactly how much she knew about me. I felt relatively safe with her, but I had to decide how much I was willing to tell her in exchange for the information she obviously possessed concerning those who were after me locally. This, because I had a feeling it would probably be a trade-off. Other than doing a favor for a member of the family, which generally comes in handy, there was no special reason for her having an interest in me personally. Her motivation in the whole matter pretty much had to be a desire for revenge, so far as I could see, for Caine's killing. With this in mind, I was willing to deal. It is always good to have an ally. But I had to decide how much I was willing to give her of the big picture. Did I want her messing around in the entire complex of events that surrounded me? I doubted it, even as I wondered how much she would be asking. Most likely she just wanted to be in on the kill, whatever that might be. When I glanced over to where moonlight accentuated the planes of her angular face, it was not difficult to superimpose a mask of Nemesis upon those features.

Out from shore, riding the sea breeze east, passing the great rock of Kolvir, the lights of Amber like jewels in her hair, I was taken again by an earlier feeling of affection. Though I had grown up in darkness and exotic lighting amid the non-Euclidean paradoxes of the Courts, where beauty was formed of more surreal elements, I felt more and more drawn to Amber every time I visited her, until at last I realized she was a part of me, until I began to think of her, too, as home. I did not want Luke storming her slopes with riflemen, or Dalt performing commando raids in her vicinity. I knew that I would be willing to fight them to protect her.

Back on the beach, near the place where Caine had been laid to rest, I thought I saw a flash of prancing whiteness, moving slowly, then quickly, then vanishing within some cleft of the slope. I would have said it was a Unicorn, but with the distance and the darkness and the quickness of it all, I could never be certain.

We picked up a perfect wind a little later, for which I was grateful. I was tired, despite my day-long slumber. My escape from the crystal cave, my encounter with the Dweller, and the pursuit by the whirlwind and its masked master all Bowed together in my mind as the nearly continuous action that they were. And now the postadrenal reaction from my latest activity was settling in. I wanted nothing more than to listen to the lapping of the waves while I watched the black and craggy shoreline slide by to port or turned to regard the flickering sea to starboard. I did not want to think, I did not want to move…

A pale hand upon my arm. «You're tired,» I heard her say.

«I guess so,» I heard myself say.

«Here's your cloak. Why don't you put it on and rest? We're holding steady. The two of us can manage easily now. We don't need you.»

I nodded as I drew it about me. «I'll take you up on that. Thanks.»

«Are you hungry or thirsty?»

«No. I had a big meal back in town.»

Her hand remained on my arm. I looked up at her. She was smiling. It was the first time I had seen her smile. With the fingertips of her other hand she touched the bloodstain on my shirtfront.

«Don't worry. I'll take care of you,» she said.

I smiled back at her because it seemed she wanted me to. She squeezed my shoulder and left me then, and I stared after her and wondered whether there were some element I had omitted from my earlier equation concerning her. But I was too tired now to solve for a new unknown. My thinking machinery was slowing, slowing…

Back braced against the port gunwale, rocked gently by the swells, I let my head nod. Through half-closed eyes I saw the dark blot she had indicated upon my white shirtfront. Blood. Yes, blood…

«First blood!» Despil had cried. «Which is sufficient! Have you satisfaction?

«No!» Jurt had shouted. «I barely scratched him!» and he spun on his stone and waved the triple claws of his trisp in my direction as he prepared to have at me again.

The blood oozed from the incision in my left forearm and formed itself into beads which rose into the air and drifted away from me like a handful of scattered rubies. I raised my fandon into a high guard position and lowered my mss, which I held far out to the right and angled forward. I bent my left knee and rotated my stone 90 degrees on our mutual axis. Jurt corrected his own position immediately and dropped a half-dozen feet. I turned another 90 degrees, so that each of us seemed to be hanging upside down in relation to the other.

«Bastard son of Amber!» he cried, and the triple lances of light raked toward me from his weapon, to be shattered into bright, mothlike fragments by the sweep of my fandon, to fall, swirling, downward into the Abyss of Chaos above which we rode.

«Up yours,» I replied, and squeezed the haft of my trisp, triggering the pulsed beams from its three hair-fine blades. I extended my arm above my head as I did so, slashing at his shins.

He swept the beams away with his fandon, at almost the full extent of their eight-foot effective range. There is about a three-second recharge pause on a trisliver, but I feinted a dead cut toward his face, before which he raised f and reflexively, and I triggered the trisp for a swirl cut at his knees. He broke the one-second pulse in low fand, triggered a thrust at my face and spun over backward through a full 360, counting on the recharge time to save his back and coming up, fandon high, to cut at my shoulder.

But I was gone, circling him, dropping and rotating erect. I cut at his own exposed shoulder but was out of range. Despil, on his beachball-sized stone, was circling also, far to my right, while my own second - Mandor high above, was dropping quickly. We clung to our small stones with shapeshifted feet, there on an outer current of Chaos, drifting, as at the whirlpool's rim. Jurt rotated to follow me, keeping his left forearm - to which the fandon is attached, elbow and wrist - horizontal, and executing a slow circular movement with it. Its three-foot length of filmy mesh, mord-weighted at the bottom, glittered in the balefire glow, which occurred at random intervals from many directions. He held his trisp in middle attack position, and he showed his teeth but was not smiling as I moved and he moved at opposite ends of the diameter of a ten-foot circle which we described over and over, looking for an opening.

I tilted the plane of my orbit and he adjusted his own immediately to keep me company. I did it again, and so did he. Then I did the dive - 90 degrees forward, fandon raised and extended - and I turned my wrist and dropped my elbow, angling my raking cut upward beneath his guard.

He cursed and cut, but I scattered his light, and three dark lines appeared upon his left thigh. The trisliver only cuts to a depth of about three quarters of an inch through flesh, which is why the throat, eyes, temples, inner wrists and femoral arteries are particularly favored targets in a serious encounter. Still, enough cuts anywhere and you eventually wave goodbye to your opponent as he spins downward in a swarm of red bubbles into that place from whence no traveler returns.

«Blood!» Mandor cried, as the beads formed upon Jurt's leg and drifted. «Is there satisfaction, gentlemen?»

«I'm satisfied,» I answered.

«I'm not!» Jurt replied, fuming to face me as I drifted to his left and rotated to my right. «Ask me again after I've cut his throat!»

Jurt had hated me from sometime before he had learned to walk, for reasons entirely his own. While I did not hate Jurt, liking him was totally beyond my ability. I had always gotten along reasonably well with Despil, though he tended to take Jurt's side more often than my own. But that was understandable. They were full brothers, and Jurt was the baby.

Jurt's trisp flashed and I broke the light and riposted. He scattered my beams and spun off to the side. I followed. Our trisps flared simultaneously, and the air between us was filled with flakes of brilliance as both attacks were shattered. I struck again, this time low, as soon as I had recharge. His came in high, and again both attacks died in f and. We drifted nearer.

«Jurt,» I said, «if either of us kills the other, the survivor will be outcast. Call it off.»

«It will be worth it,» he said. «Don't you think I've thought about it?» Then he slashed an attack at my face. I raised both arms reflexively, fandon and trisp, and triggered an attack as shattered light showered before me. I heard him scream.

When I lowered my fandon to eye level I saw that he was bent forward, and his trisp was drifting away. So was his left ear, trailing a red filament that quickly beaded itself and broke apart. A flap of scalp had also come loose, and he was trying to press it back into place.

Mandor and Despil were already spiraling in.

«We declare the duel ended!» they were shouting, and I twisted the head of my trisp into a safety-lock position.

«How bad is it?» Despil asked me.

«I don't know.»

Jurt let him close enough to check, and a little later Despil said, «He'll be all right. But Mother is going to be mad.»

I nodded. «It was his idea,» I said.

«I know. Come on. Let's get out of here.»

He helped Jurt steer toward an outcropping of the Rim, fandon trailing like a broken wing. I lingered behind. Sawall's son Mandor, my stepbrother, put his hand on my shoulder.

«You didn't even mean him that much,» he said.

«I know.»

I nodded and bit my lip. Despil had been right about the Lady Dara, our mother, though. She favored Jurt, and somehow he'd have her believing this whole thing was my fault. I sometimes felt she liked both of her sons by Sawall, the old Rim Duke she'd finally married after giving up on Dad, better than me. I'd once overheard it said that I reminded her of my father, whom I'd been told I resembled more than a little. I wondered again about Amber and about other places, out in Shadow, and felt my customary twinge of fear as this recalled to me the writhing Logrus, which I knew to be my ticket to other lands. I knew that I was going to try it sooner than I had originally intended.

«Let's go see Suhuy,» I said to Mandor, as we rose up out of the Abyss together. «There are more things I want to ask him.»

When I finally went off to college I did not spend a lot of time writing home.

«… home,» Vinta was saying, «pretty soon now. Have a drink of water,» and she passed me a flask.

I took several long swallows and handed it back. «Thanks.»

I stretched my cramped muscles and breathed the cold sea air. I looked for the moon and it was way back behind my shoulder.

«You were really out,» she said.

«Do I talk in my sleep?»

«No»

«Good.»

«Bad dreams?»

I shrugged. «Could be worse.»

«Maybe you made a little noise, right before I woke you.»

«Oh.»

Far ahead I saw a small Iight at the end of a dark promontory. She gestured toward it.

«When we've passed the point,» she said, «we will come into sight of the harbor at Baylesport. We'll find breakfast there, and horses.»

«How far is it from Arbor House?»

«About a league,» she replied. «An easy ride.»

She stayed by me in silence for a while, watching the coastline and the sea. It was the first time we had simply sat together, my hands unoccupied and my mind free. And my sorcerer's sense was stirred in that interval. I felt as if I were in the presence of magic. Not some simple spell or the aura of some charmed object she might be bearing, but something very subtle. I summoned my vision and turned it upon her. There was nothing immediately obvious, but prudence suggested I check further. I extended my inquiry through the Logrus…

«Please don't do that» she said.

I had just committed a faux pas. It is generally considered somewhat gauche to probe a fellow practitioner in such a fashion.

«I'm sorry,» I said. «I didn't realize you were a student of the Art.»

«I am not,» she answered, «but I am sensitive to its operations.»

«ln that case, you would probably make a good one.»

«My interests lie elsewhere,» she said.

«I thought perhaps someone had laid a spell upon you,» I stated. «I was only trying to -»

«Whatever you saw,» she said, «belongs. Let it be.»

«As you would. Sorry.»

She must have known I couldn't let it rest at that, though, when unknown magic represents possible danger. So she went on, «It is nothing that can do you harm, I assure you. Quite the contrary.»

I waited, but she did not have anything further to say on the matter. So I had to let it drop, for the moment. I shifted my gaze back to the lighthouse. What was I getting into with her, anyhow? How had she even known that I was back in town, let alone that I would visit Death Alley when I did? She must have known that the question would occur to me, and if there was to be good faith on both our parts she should be willing to explain it.

I turned back toward her, and she was smiling again.

«The wind changes in the lee of the light,» she said, and she rose.

«Excuse me. I've work to do.»

«May I give you a hand?»

«In a bit. I'll call you when I need you.»

I watched her move away, and as I did I had the eerie feeling that she was watching me also, no matter where she was looking. I realized, too, that this feeling had been with me for some time, like the sea.

By the time we had docked and put everything in order and headed up a hill along a wide cobbled way toward an inn with smoke snaking from its chimney, the sky was growing pale in the east. After a hearty breakfast, morning's light lay full upon the world. We walked then to a livery stable where three quiet mounts were obtained for the ride to her father's estate:

It was one of those clear crisp autumn days which become rarer and dearer as the year winds down. I finally felt somewhat rested, and the inn had had coffee - which is not that common in Amber, outside the palace - and I enjoy my morning cup. It was good to move through the countryside at a leisurely pace and to smell the land, to watch the moisture fade from sparkling fields and turning leaves, to feel the wind, to hear and watch a flock of birds southbound for the Isles of the Sun. We rode in silence, and nothing happened to break my mood. Memories of sorrow, betrayal, suffering and violence are strong but they do fade, whereas interludes such as this, when I close my eyes and regard the calendar of my days, somehow outlast them, as I see myself riding with Vinta Bayle under morning skies where the houses and fences are stone and stray seabirds call, there in the wine country to the east of Amber, and the scythe of Time has no power in this corner of the heart.

When we arrived at Arbor House we gave the horses into the care of Bayle's grooms, who would see to their eventual return to town. Drew departed for his own quarters then, and I walked with Vinta to the huge hilltop manor house. It commanded far views of rocky valleys and hillsides where the grapes were grown. A great number of dogs approached and tried to be friendly as we made our way to the house, and once we had entered their voices still reached us on occasion. Wood and wrought iron, gray flagged floors, high beamed ceilings, clerestory windows, family portraits, a couple of small tapestries of salmon, brown, ivory and blue, a collection of old weapons showing a few touches of oxidation, soot smudges on the gray stone about the hearth… We passed through the big front hall and up a stair.

«Take this room,» she said, opening a darkwood door, and I nodded as I entered and looked about. It was spacious, with big windows looking out over the valley to the south. Most of the servants were at the Baron's place in town for the season. «There is a bath in the next room,» she told me, indicating a door to my left.

«Great. Thanks. Just what I need.»

«So repair yourself as you would.» She crossed to the window and looked downward. «I'll meet you on that terrace in about an hour, if that is agreeable.»

I went over and looked down upon a large flagged area, well shaded by ancient trees - their leaves now yellow, red and brown, many of them dotting the patio - the place bordered by flower beds, vacant now, a number of tables and chairs arranged upon it, a collection of potted shrubs well disposed among them.

«Fine.»

She turned toward me. «Is there anything special you would like?»

«If there is any coffee about, I wouldn't mind another cup or two when I meet you out there.»

«I'll see what I can do.»

She smiled and seemed to sway slightly toward me for a moment. It almost seemed in that instant as if she wanted me to embrace her. But if she did not, it could be slightly awkward. And under the circumstances I wanted no familiarity with her anyway, having no idea as to the sort of game she was playing. So I returned her smile, reached out and squeezed her arm, said, «Thank you,» and stepped away. «I guess I'll see about that bath now.»

I saw her to the door and let her out.

It was good to get my boots off. It was far better to soak, fox a long, warm time.

Later, in fresh-conjured attire, I made my way downstairs and located a side door that let of the kitchen onto the patio. Vinta, also scrubbed and refitted, in brown riding pants and a loose tan blouse, sat beside a table at the east end of the patio. Two places were set upon it, and I saw a coffeepot and a tray of fruit and cheeses. I crossed over, leaves crunching beneath my feet, and sat down.

«Did you find everything to your satisfaction?» she asked me.

«Entirely,» I replied.

«And you've notified Amber of your whereabouts?»

I nodded. Random had been a bit irritated at my taking off without letting him know, but then he had never told me not to. He was less irritated, however, when he Learned that I hadn't gone all that far, and he even acknowledged finally that perhaps I had done a prudent thing in disappearing following such a peculiar attack. «Keep your eyes open and keep me posted,» were his final words.

«Good. Coffee?»

«Please.»

She poured and gestured toward the tray. I took an apple and took a bite.

«Things have begun happening,» she said ambiguously, as she filled her own cup.

«I can't deny it,» I acknowledged.

«And your troubles have been manifold.»

«True.»

She took a sip of coffee. «Would you care to tell me about them?» she finally said.

«They're a little too manifold,» I replied. «You said something last night about your story being a long one, too.»

She smiled faintly. «You must feel you have no reason to trust me more than necessary at this point,» she said. «I can see that. Why trust anyone you don't have to when something dangerous is afoot, something you do not completely understand? Right?»

«It does strike me as a sound policy.»

«Yet I assure you that your welfare is of the highest concern to me.»

«Do you think I may represent a means of getting at Caine's killer?»

«Yes,» she said, «and insofar as they may become your killers I would like to get at them.»

«Are you trying to tell me that revenge is not your main objective?»

«That's right. I would rather protect the living than avenge the dead.»

«But that part becomes academic if it's the same individual in both cases. Do you think it is?»

«I am not certain,» she said, «that it was Luke who sent those men after you last night.»

I placed my apple beside my cup and took a long drink of coffee. «Luke?» I said.

«Luke who? What do you know of any Luke?»

«Lucas Raynard,» she said steadily, «who trained a band of mercenaries in the Pecos Wilderness in northern New Mexico, issued them supplies of a special ammunition that will detonate in Amber, and sent them all home with it to await his orders to muster and be transported here - to attempt something your father once tried years ago.»

«Holy shit!» I said.

That would explain a lot - like Luke's showing up in fatigues back at the Hilton in Santa Fe, with his story about liking to hike around in the Pecos, with that round of peculiar ammunition I'd found in his pocket; and all the other trips he'd been making there - more, actually, than seemed absolutely necessary on his sales route… That angle had never occurred to me, but it made a lot of sense in light of everything I'd since learned.

«Okay,» I acknowledged, «I guess you know Luke Raynard. Mind telling me how you came by this?»

«Yes.»

«Yes?»

«Yes, I mind. I'm afraid I'm going to have to play this game your way and trade you information a piece at a time. Now that I think of it, it will probably make me feel more comfortable too. How does that sound to you?»

«Either one of us can call it quits at any time?»

«Which stops the trading, unless we can negotiate it.»

«All right.»

«So you owe me one. You just returned to Amber the other day. Where had you been?»

I sighed and took another bite of the apple. «You're fishing» I said finally. «That's a big question. I've been to a lot of places. It all depends on how far back you want to go.»

«Let's take it from Meg Devlin's apartment to yesterday,» she said.

I choked on a piece of apple. «Okay, you've made the point - you have some damn good sources of information» I observed. «But it has to be Fiona for that one. You're in league with her some way, aren't you?»

«It's not your turn for a question,» she said. «You haven't answered mine yet.»

«Okay, Fi and I came back to Amber after I left Meg's place. The next day Random sent me on a mission, to turn off a machine I'd built called Ghostwheel. I failed in this but I ran into Luke along the way. He actually helped me out of a tight spot. Then, following a misunderstanding with my creation, I used a strange Trump to take both Luke and myself to safety. Luke subsequently imprisoned me in a crystal cave -»

«Aha!» she said.

«I should stop there?»

«No, go on.»

«I was a prisoner for a month or so, though it amounted to only a few days, Amber time. I was released by a couple of fellows working for a lady named Jasra, had an altercation with them and with the lady herself and trumped out to San Francisco, to Flora's place. There, I revisited an apartment where a murder had occurred -»

«Julia's place?»

«Yes. In it, I discovered a magical gateway which I was able to force open. I passed through it to a place called the Keep of the Four Worlds. A battle was in progress there, the attackers probably being led by a fellow named Dalt, of some small notoriety hereabouts at one time. Later, I was pursued by a magical whirlwind and called names by a masked wizard. I trumped out and came home - yesterday.»

«And that's everything?»

«In capsule form, yes.»

«Are you leaving out anything?»

«Sure. For instance, there was a Dweller on the threshold of the gateway, but I was able to get by.»

«No, that's part of the package. Anything else?»

«Mm. Yes, there were two peculiar communications, ending in flowers.»

«Tell me about them.»

So I did.

She shook her head when I'd finished. «You've got me there,» she said.

I finished my coffee and the apple. She refilled my cup.

«Now it's my turn,» I said. «What did you mean by that `Aha!' when I mentioned the crystal cave?»

«It was blue crystal, wasn't it? And it blocked your powers.»

«How'd you know?»

«It was the color of the stone in the ring you took from that man last night.»

«Yes.»

She got to her feet and moved around the table, stood a moment, then pointed to the vicinity of my left hip.

«Would you empty that pocket onto the table, please?»

I smiled. «Sure. How'd you know?»

She didn't answer that one, but then it was a different question. I removed the assortment of blue stones from my pocket - the chips from the cave, the carved button I'd snatcher, the ring - and placed them upon the table.

She picked up the button, studied it, then nodded.

«Yes, that's one also;» she stated.

«One what?»

She ignored the query and dipped her right forefinger into a bit of spilled coffee within her saucer. She then used it to trace three circles around the massed stones, widdershins. Then she nodded again and returned to her seat. I'd summoned the vision in time to see her build a cage of force about them. Now, as I continued to watch, it seemed as if they were exhaling faint wisps of blue smoke that remained within the circle.

«I thought you said you weren't a sorcerer.»

«I'm not,» she replied.

«I'll save the question. But continue answering the last one. What is the significance of the blue stones?»

«They have an affinity for the cave, and for each other,» she told me. «A person with very little training could hold one of them and simply begin walking, following the slight psychic tugging. It would eventually lead him to the cave.»

«Through Shadow, you mean?»

«Yes.»

«Intriguing, but I fail to see any great value to it.»

«But that is not all. Ignore the pull of the cave, and you will become aware of secondary tuggings. Learn to distinguish the signature of the proper stone, and you can follow its bearer anywhere.»

«That does sound a little more useful. Do you think that's how those guys found me last night, because I had a pocket full of the things?»

«Probably, from a practical standpoint, they helped. Actually, though, in your case, they should not even have lien necessary at this point.»

«Why not?»

«They have an additional effect. Anyone who has one in his possession for a time becomes attuned to the thing. Throw it away and the attunement remains. You can still be tracked then, just as if you had retained the stone. You would possess a signature of your own.»

«You mean that even now, without them, I'm marked?»

«Yes.»

«How long does it take to wear off?»

«I am not certain that it ever does.»

«There must be some means of deattunement.»

«I do not know for certain, but I can think of a couple of things that would probably do it.»

«Name them.»

«Walking the Pattern of Amber or negotiating the Logrus of Chaos. They seem almost to break a person apart and do a reassemblement into a purer form. They have been known to purge many strange conditions. As I recall, it was the Pattern that restored your father's memory.»

«Yes - and I won't even ask you how you know about the Logrus you may well be right. As with so much else in life, it seems enough of a pain in the ass to be good for me. So, you think they could be zeroing in on me right now, with or without the stones?»

«Yes.»

«How do you know all this?» I asked.

«I can sense it - and that's an extra question. But I'll give you a free one in the interests of expedition.»

«Thanks. I guess it's your turn now.»

«Julia was seeing an occultist named Victor Melman before she died. Do you know why?»

«She was studying with him, looking for some sort of development - at least, that's what I was told by a guy who knew her at the time. This was after we broke up.»

«That is not exactly what I meant,» she said. «Do you know why she desired this development?»

«Sounds like an extra question to me, but maybe I owe you one. The fellow I'd spoken with told me that I had scared her, that I'd given her to believe that I possessed unusual abilities, and that she was looking for some of her own in self-defense.»

«Finish it,» she said.

«What do you mean?»

«That's not a complete answer. Did you actually give her cause to believe that and to be afraid of you?»

«Well, I guess I did. Now my question: How could you possibly know anything about Julia in the first place?»

«I was there,» she answered. «I knew her.»

«Go ahead.»

«That's it. Now it's my turn.»

«That's hardly complete.»

«But it's all you're getting on that one. Take it or leave it.»

«According to our agreement I can call it quits over that.»

«True. Will you?»

«What do you want to know next?»

«Did Julia develop the abilities she sought?»

«I told you that we'd stopped seeing each other before she got involved in that sort of thing. So I have no way of knowing.»

«You located the portal in her apartment from which the beast that slew her had presumably emerged. Two questions now - not for you to answer for me, just for you to think over: Why would anyone want her dead in the first place? And does it not seem a very peculiar way to have gone about it? I can think of a lot simpler ways of disposing of a person.»

«You're right,» I agreed. «A weapon is a hell of a lot easier to manage than magic any day. As for why, I can only speculate. I had assumed it was a trap for me, and that she had been sacrificed as part of the package - my annual April thirtieth present. Do you know about them, too?»

«Let's save that business for later. You are obviously aware that sorcerers have styles, the same as painters, writers, musicians. When you succeeded in locating that gateway in Julia's apartment, was there anything about it which we might refer to as the author's signature?»

«Nothing special that I can recall. Of course, I was in a hung to force it. I wasn't there to admire the aesthetics of the thing. But no, I can't associate it with anyone with whose work I am familiar. What are you getting at?»

«I just wondered whether it were possible that she might have developed some abilities of her own along these lines, and in the course of things opened that gateway herself and suffered those consequences.»

«Preposterous!»

«All right. I am just trying to turn up some reasons. I take it then that you never saw any indication that she might possess latent abilities for sorcery?»

«No, I can't recall any instances.»

I finished my coffee, poured a refill.

«If you don't think Luke is after me now, why not?» I asked her then.

«He set up some apparent accidents for you, years ago.»

«Yes. He admitted that recently. He also told me that he quit doing it after the first few times.»

«That is correct.»

«You know, it's maddening - not knowing what you know and what you do not.»

«That is why we're talking, isn't it? It was your idea to go about it this way.»

«It was not! You suggested this trade-off!»

«This morning, yes. But the idea was originally yours, some time ago. I am thinking of a certain telephone conversation, at Mr. Roth's place -»

«You? That disguised voice on the phone? How could that be?»

«Would you rather hear about that or about Luke?»

«That! No, Luke! Both, damn it!»

«So it would seem there is a certain wisdom in keeping to the format we've agreed upon. There is much to be said for orderliness.»

«Okay, you've made another point. Go on about Luke.»

«It seemed to me, as an observer, that he quit that business as soon as he got to know you better.»

«You mean back about the time we became friendly - that wasn't just an act?»

«I couldn't tell for sure then - and he certainly countenanced the years of attacks on you - but I believe that he actually sabotaged some of them.»

«Who was behind them after he quit?»

«A red-haired lady with whom he seemed to be associated.»

«Jasra?»

«Yes, that was her name - and I still don't know as much about her as I'd like to. Do you have anything there?»

«I think I'll save that for a big one,» I said.

For the first time, she directed a narrow-eyed, teeth-clenched expression toward me.

«Can't you see that I'm trying to help you, Merlin?»

«Really, what I see is that you want information I have,» I said, «and that's okay. I'm willing to deal because you seem to know things I want, too. But I've got to admit that your reasons are murky to me. How the hell did you get to Berkeley? What were you doing calling me at Bill's place? What is this power of yours you say isn't sorcery? How -»

«That's three questions,» she said, «and the beginning of a fourth.

Would you prefer to write them all out, and have me do the same for you? Then we can both go off to our rooms and decide which ones we want to answer?»

«No,» I replied. «I'm willing to play the game. But you are aware of my reason for wanting to know these things. It's a matter of self-preservation to me. I thought at first that you wanted information that would help you to nail the man who killed Caine. But you said no, and you didn't give me anything to put in its place.»

«I did, too! I want to protect you!»

«I appreciate the sentiment. But why? When it comes down to it, you hardly know me.»

«Nevertheless, that is my reason and I don't feel like going behind it. Take it or leave it.»

I got to my feet and began pacing the patio. I didn't like the thought of giving away information that could be vital to my security, and ultimately that of Amber - though I had to admit I was getting a pretty good return for what I'd given. Her stuff did sound right. For that matter, the Bayles had a long history of loyalty to the Crown, for whatever that was worth. The thing that bothered me the most, I decided, was her insistence that it was not actually revenge that she was after. Apart from this being a very un-Amberlike attitude, if she were any judge at all as to what would go over with me she need but have agreed that blood was what she wanted, in order to make her concern intelligible. I would have bought it without looking any further. And what did she offer in its place? Airy nothings and classified motives…

Which could well mean she was telling the truth. Disdaining the use of a workable lie and offering something more cumbersome in its place would seem the mark of genuine honesty. And she did, apparently, have more answers that I wanted

I heard a small rattling sound from the table. I thought at first that she might be drumming on it with her fingertips as a sign of her irritation with me. But when I glanced back I saw that she was sitting perfectly still, not even looking at me.

I drew nearer, seeking the source. The ring, the pieces of blue stone and even the button were jiggling about on the tabletop, as of their own accord.

«Something you're doing?» I asked

«No,» she replied.

The stone in the ring cracked and fell out of its setting.

«What, then?»

«I broke a link,» she said. «I believe something may be trying to reestablish it and failing.»

«Even so, if I'm still attuned they don't need them in order to locate me, do they?»

«There may be more than one party involved,» she observed. «I think I should have a servant ride back to town and throw the things into the ocean. If someone wishes to follow them there, fine.»

«The chips should just lead back to the cave, and the ring to the dead man,» I said. «But I'm not ready to throw the button away.»

«Why not? It represents a big unknown.»

«Exactly. But these things would have to work both ways, wouldn't they? That would mean that I could learn to use the button to find my way to the flower thrower.»

«That could be dangerous.»

«And not doing it could prove more dangerous in the long run. No, you can throw the rest of them into the sea, but not the button.»

«All right. I'll keep it pent for you.»

«Thanks. Jasra is Luke's mother.»

«You're joking!»

«Nope.»

«That explains why he didn't lean on her directly about the later April thirtieths. Fascinating! It opens up a whole new lane of speculation.»

«Care to share them?»

«Later, later. In the meantime, I'll take care of these stones right now.» She scooped them all out of the circle and they seemed, for a moment, to dance in her hand. She stood.

«Uh - the button?» I said.

«Yes.»

She put the button into her pocket and kept the others in her hand.

«You're going to get attuned yourself if you keep the button that way, aren't you?»

«No,» she said, «I won't.»

«Why not?»

«There's a reason. Excuse me while I find a container for the others, and someone to transport them.»

«Won't that person get attuned?»

«It takes a while.»

«Oh.»

«Have some more coffee - or something.»

She turned and left. I ate a piece of cheese. I tried to figure out whether I'd gotten more answers or more new questions during the course of our conversation. I tried to ht some of the new pieces into the old puzzle.

«Father?»

I turned, to see who had spoken. There was no one in sight.

«Down here.»

A coin-sized disk of light lay within a nearby flower bed, otherwise empty save for a few dry stalks and leaves. The light caught my attention when it moved slightly.

«Ghost?» I asked.

«Uh-huh,» came the reply from among the leaves. «I was waiting to catch you when you were alone. I'm not sure I trust that woman.»

«Why not?»

«She doesn't scan right, like other people. I don't know what it is. But that's not what I wanted to talk to you about.»

«What, then?»

«Uh-well, did you mean what you said about not really intending to turn me off?»

«Jeez! After all the sacrifices I made for you! Your education and everything… And lugging all your damn components out to a place like that where you'd be safe! How can you ask me that?»

«Well,I heard Random tell you to do it»

«You don't do everything you're told either, do you? Especially when it comes to assaulting me when I just wanted to check out a few programs? I deserve a little more respect than that!»

«Uh-yeah. Look, I'm sorry.»

«You ought to be. I went through a lot of crap because of you.»

«I looked for you for several days, and I couldn't find you.»

«Crystal caves are no fun.»

«I don't have much time now…» The light flickered, faded almost to the point of vanishing, returned to full brilliance. «Will you tell me something fast?»

«Shoot.»

«That fellow who was with you when you came out this way- - nd when you left - the big red-haired man?»

«Luke. Yes?»

The light grew dimmer again.

«Is it okay to trust him?» Ghost's voice came faintly, weakly.

«No!» I shouted. «That would be damn stupid!»

Ghost was gone, and I couldn't tell whether he'd heard my answer.

«What's the matter?» Vinta's voice, from above me.

«Argument with my imaginary playmate,» I called out.

Even from that distance I could see the expression of puzzlement on her face. She sought in all directions about the patio and then, apparently persuading herself that I was indeed alone, she nodded.

«Oh,» she said. Then, «I'll be along in a little while.»

«No hurry,» I answered.

Where shall wisdom be found, and where is the place of understanding? If I knew, I'd walk over and stand there. As it was, I felt as if I stood in the midst of a large map, surrounded by vague areas wherein were penned the visages of particularly nasty-looking random variables. A perfect place for a soliloquy, if one had anything to say.

I went back inside to use the john. All that coffee.

Chapter 6

Well, maybe.

With Julia, I mean.

I sat alone in my room, thinking by candlelight.

Vinta had stirred a few sunken memories to the surface.

It was later on, when we weren't seeing much of each other…

I'd met Julia first in a Computer Science course I was taking. We'd started seeing each other occasionally, just coffee after class and like that, at first. Then more and more frequently, and pretty soon it was serious.

Now it was ending as it had started, a little more each time…

I felt her hand on my shoulder as I was leaving the supermarket with a bag of groceries. I knew it was her and I turned and there was no one there. Seconds later, she hailed me from across the parking lot. I went over and said hello, asked her if she were still working at the software place where she'd been. She said that she wasn't. I recalled that she was wearing a small silver pentagram on a chain about her neck. It could easily -,and more likely should - have been hanging down inside her blouse. But of course I wouldn't have seen it then, and her body language indicated that she wanted me to see it. So I ignored it while we exchanged a few generalities, and she turned me down on dinner and a movie, though I asked after several nights.

«What are you doing now?» I inquired.

«I'm studying a lot.»

«What?»

«Oh, just-different things. I'll surprise you one of these days.»

Again, I didn't bite, though an over-friendly Irish setter approached us about then. She placed her hand on its head and said, «Sit!» and it did. It became still as a statue at her side, and remained when we left later. For all I know, there's a dog skeleton still crouched there, near the cart return area, like a piece of modern sculpture.

It didn't really seem that important at the time. But in retrospect, I wondered…

We had ridden that day, Vinta and I. Seeing my growing exasperation of the morning, she must have felt a break was in order. She was right. Following a light lunch, when she made the suggestion that we take a ride about the estate, I agreed readily. I had wanted a little more time in which to think before continuing our cross-examination and discourse game. And the weather was good, the countryside attractive.

We made our way along a curling hail through arbors, which led at length into the northern hills from where we were afforded long views across the rugged and cross-hatched land down to the sun-filled sea. The sky was full of winds and wisps of cloud, passing birds… Vinta seemed to have no special destination in mind, which was all right with me. As we rode, I recalled a visit to a Napa Valley winery, and the next time we drew rein to rest the horses I asked her, «Do you bottle the wine here at the estate? Or is that done in town? Or in Amber?»

«I don't know,» she said.

«I thought you grew up here.»

«I never paid attention.»

I bit back a remark about patrician attitudes. Unless she were joking, I couldn't see how she'd fail to know something like that.

She caught my expression, though, and added immediately, «We've done it various ways at various times. I've been living in town for several years now. I'm not sure where the principal bottling has been done recently.»

Nice save, because I couldn't fault it. I hadn't intended my question as any sort of trap, but I felt as if I had just touched on something. Possibly from the fact that she didn't let it go at that. She went on to say that they shipped large casks all over the place and often sold them in that fashion. On the other hand, there were smaller customers who wanted the product bottled… I stopped listening after a time. On the one hand, I could see it, coming horn a vintner's daughter. On the other, it was all stuff I could have made up myself on the spot. There was no way for me to check on any of it. I got the feeling that she was trying to snow me, to cover something. But I couldn't figure what.

«Thanks,» I said when she paused for breath, and she gave me a strange look but took the hint and did not continue.

«You have to speak English,» I said in that language, «if the things you told me earlier are true.»

«Everything I told you is true,» she replied, in unaccented English.

«Where'd you learn it?»

«On the shadow Earth where you went to school.»

«Would you care to tell me what you were doing there?»

«I was on a special mission.»

«For your father? For the Crown?»

«I'd rather not answer you at all than lie to you.»

«I appreciate that. Of course, I must speculate.»

She shrugged.

«You said you were in Berkeley?» I asked.

A hesitation, then, «Yes.»

«I don't remember ever seeing you around.»

Another shrug. I wanted to grab her and shake her. Instead, I said, «You knew about Meg Devlin. You said you were in New York -»

«I believe you're getting ahead of me on questions.»

«I didn't know we were playing the game again. I thought we were just talking.»

«All right, then: Yes.»

«Tell me one more thing and perhaps I can help you.»

She smiled. «I don't need any help. You're the one with problems:»

«May I, anyway?»

«Go ahead and ask. Every time you question me you tell me things I wish to know.»

«You knew about Luke's mercenaries. Did you visit New Mexico, too?»

«Yes, I've been there.»

«Thanks,» I said.

«That's all?»

«That's all.»

«You've come to some conclusion?»

«Perhaps.»

«Care to tell me what it is?»

I smiled and shook my head.

I left it at that. A few oblique queries on her part as we rode on led me to believe that I had her wondering what I might have guessed or suddenly seen. Good. I was determined to let it smolder. I needed something to balance her reticence on those points about which I was most curious, to lead hopefully to a full trade of information. Besides, I had reached a peculiar conclusion concerning her. It was not complete, but if it were correct I would require the rest of the answer sooner or later. So it was not exactly as if I were setting up a bluff.

The afternoon was golden, orange, yellow, red about us, with an autumn-damp smell behind the cool nips of the breezes. The sky was very blue, like certain stones…

Perhaps ten minutes later I asked her a more neutral question. «Could you show me the road to Amber?»

«You don't know it?»

I shook my head. «I've never been this way before. All I know is that there are overland routes coming through here that lead to the Eastern Gate.»

«Yes,» she said. «A bit farther to the north, I believe. Let's go find it.»

She headed back to a road we had followed for a time earlier and we turned right on it, which seemed logical. I did not remark on her vagueness, though I expected a comment from her before too long in that I had not elaborated on my plans and I'd a feeling she was hoping that I would.

Perhaps three quarters of a mile later we came to a crossroads. There was a low stone marker at the far left corner giving the distance to Amber, the distance back to Baylesport, the distance to Baylecrest in the east and to a place called Murn, straight ahead.

«What's Murn?» I asked.

«A little dairy village.»

No way I could check that, without traveling six leagues.

«You plan on riding back to Amber?» she asked.

«Yes.»

«Why not just use a Trump?»

«I want to get to know the area better. It's my home. I like it here.»

«But I explained to you about the danger. The stones have marked you. You can be tracked.»

«That doesn't mean I will be tracked. I doubt that whoever sent the ones I met last night would even be aware this soon that they'd found me and failed. They'd still be lurking about if I hadn't decided to go out for dinner. I'm sure I have a few days' grace in which to remove the markings you spoke of.»

She dismounted and let her horse nibble a few blades of grass. I did the same. Dismounted, that is.

«You're probably right. I just don't like to see you taking any chances,» she said. «When are you planning on heading back?»

«I don't know. I suppose that the longer I wait the more likely it is that the person behind last night's business will get restless and maybe send more muscle.»

She took hold of my arm and turned, so that she was suddenly pressed against me. I was somewhat surprised by the act, but my free arm automatically moved to hold the lady as it tends to on such occasions.

«You weren't planning on leaving now, were you? Because if you are, I'm going with you.»

«No,» I answered truthfully. Actually, I'd been thinking of departing the following morning, following a good night's sleep.

«When, then? We still have a lot of things to talk about.»

«I think we've pushed the question-and-answer business about as far as you're willing to let it go.»

«There are some things -»

«I know.»

Awkward, this. Yes, she was desirable. And no, I didn't care to have anything to do with her that way. Partly because I felt she wanted something else as well - what, I wasn't sure - and partly because I was certain she possessed a peculiar power to which I did not wish to expose myself at intimate range. As my Uncle Suhuy used to say, speaking technically as a sorcerer, «If you don't understand it, don't screw around with it.» And I had a feeling that anything beyond a friendly acquaintanceship with Vinta could well turn into a duel of energies.

So I kissed her quickly to stay friendly and disengaged myself.

«Maybe I'll head back tomorrow,» I told her.

«Good. I was hoping you'd spend the night. Perhaps several. I will protect you.»

«Yes, I'm still very tired,» I said.

«We'll have to feed you a good meal and build up your strength.»

She brushed my cheek with her fingertips then, and I suddenly realized that I did know her from somewhere. Where? I couldn't say. And that, too, frightened me. More than a little. As we mounted and headed back toward Arbor House I began making my plans for getting out of there that night.

So, sitting in my room, sipping a glass of my absent host's wine (the red) and watching the candles flicker in the breeze from an opened window, I waited - first for the house to grow quiet (which it had), then for a goodly time to pass. My door was latched. I had mentioned how tired I felt several times during dinner, and then I had retired early. I am not so egotistically male that I feel myself constantly lusted after, but Vinta had given indication that she might stop by and I wanted the excuse of heavy sleeping. Least of all did I wish to offend her. I had problems enough without turning my strange ally against me.

I wished I still had a good book about, but I'd left my last one at Bill's place, and if I were to summon it now I did not know but that Vinta might sense the sending, just as Fiona had once known I was creating a Trump, and come pounding on the door to see what the hell was going on.

But no one came pounding, and I listened to the creakings of a quiet house and the night sounds without. The candles shortened themselves and the shadows on the wall behind the bed ebbed and Howed like a dark tide beyond their swaying light. I thought my thoughts and sipped my wine. Pretty soon…

An imagining? Or had I just heard my name whispered from some undetectable place?

«Merle…»

Again.

Real, but

My vision seemed to swim for a moment, and then I realized it for what it was: a very weak Trump contact.

«Yes,» I said, opening and extending. «Who is it?»

«Merle, baby… Give me a hand or I've had it…»

Luke!

«Right here,» I said, reaching, reaching, as the image grew clear, solidified.

He was leaning, his back against a wall, shoulders slumped, head hanging.

«If this is a trick, Luke, I'm ready for it,» I told him. I rose quickly and, crossing to the table where I had laid my blade, I drew it and held it ready.

«No trick. Hurry! Get me out of here!»

He raised his left hand. I extended my left hand and caught hold of it. Immediately he slumped against me, and I staggered. For an instant I thought it was an attack, but he was dead weight and I saw that there was blood all over him. He still clutched a bloody blade in his right hand. «Over here. Come on.»

I steered him and supported him for several paces, then deposited him on the bed. I pried the blade from his grip, then placed it along with mine on a nearby chair.

«What the hell happened to you?»

He coughed and shook his head weakly. He drew several deep breaths, then, «Did I see a glass of wine,» he asked, «as we passed a table?»

«Yeah. Hold on.»

I fetched it, brought it back, propped him and held it to his lips. It was still over half full. He sipped it slowly, pausing for deep breaths.

«Thanks,» he said when he'd finished, then his head turned to the side.

He was out. I took his pulse. It was fast but kind of weak.

«Damn you, Luke!» I said. «You've got the worst timing…»

But he didn't hear a word. He just lay there and bled all over the place.

Several curses later I had him undressed and was going over him with a wet towel to find out where, under all that blood, the injuries lay. There was a nasty chest wound on the right, which might have hit the lung. His breathing was very shallow, though, and I couldn't tell. If so, I was hoping he'd inherited the regenerative abilities of Amber in full measure. I put a compress on it and laid his arm on top to hold it in place while I checked elsewhere. I suspected he had a couple of fractured ribs, also. His left arm was broken above the elbow and I set it and splinted it, using loose slats from a chair I'd noticed in the back of the closet earlier, and I strapped it to him. There were over a dozen lacerations and incisions of various degrees of severity on his thighs, right hip, right arm and shoulder, his back. None of them, fortunately, involved arterial bleeding. I cleaned all of these and bound them, which left him looking like an illustration in a firstaid handbook. Then I checked his chest wound again and covered him up.

I wondered about some of the Logrus healing techniques I knew in theory but had never had a chance to practice. He was looking pretty pale, so I decided I had better try them. When I'd finished, some time later, it seemed as if his color had returned to his face. I added my cloak to the blanket which covered him. I took his pulse again and it felt stronger. I cursed again, just to stay in practice, removed our blades from the chair and sat down on it.

A little later my conversation with Ghostwheel returned to trouble me. Had Luke been trying to do a deal with my creation? He'd told me he wanted Ghost's power, to prosecute his designs against Amber. Then Ghost had asked me earlier today whether Luke was to be trusted, and my answer had been emphatically negative.

Had Ghost terminated negotiations with Luke in the fashion I saw before me?

I fetched forth my Trumps and shuffled out the bright circle of the Ghostwheel. I focused on it, setting my mind for contact, reaching out, calling, summoning.

Twice I felt near to something - agitated - during the several minutes I devoted to the effort. But it was as if we were separated by a sheet of glass. Was Ghost occupied? Or just not inclined to talk with me?

I put my cards away. But they had served to push my thoughts into another channel.

I gathered Luke's gory clothing and did a quick search. I turned up a set of Trumps in a side pocket, along with several blank cards and a pencil and yes, they seemed to be rendered in the same style as the ones I had come to call the Trumps of Doom. I added to the packet the one depicting myself, which Luke had been holding in his hand when he had trumped in.

His were a fascinating lot. There was one of Jasra, and one of Victor Melman. There was also one of Julia, and a partly completed one of Bleys. There was one for the crystal cave, another for Luke's old apartment. There were several duplicated from the Trumps of Doom themselves, one for a palace I did not recognize, one for one of my old pads, one for a rugged-looking blond guy in green and black, another of a slim, russethaired man in brown and black, and one of a woman who resembled this man so closely it would seem they must be related. These last two, strangely, were done in a different style; even by a different hand, I'd say. The only unknown one I felt relatively certain about was the blond fellow, who, from his colors, I would assume to be Luke's old friend Dalt, the mercenary. There were also three separate attempts at something resembling Ghostwheel - none of them, I would guess, completely successful.

I heard Luke growl something, and I saw that his eyes were open and darting.

«Take it easy,» I said. «You're safe.»

He nodded and closed his eyes. A few moments later, he opened them again.

«Hey! My cards,» he said weakly.

I smiled. «Nice work,» I remarked. «Who did them?»

«Me,» he answered. «Who else?»

«Where'd you learn?»

«My dad. He was real good at it.»

«If you can do them, you must have walked the Pattern.»

He nodded.

«Where?»

He studied me a moment, then performed a weak shrug and winced. «Tir-na Nog'th.»

«Your father took you, saw you through it?» Again, a nod.

Why not push it, since I seemed to be on a roll? I picked up a card.

«And here's Dalt,» I said. «You used to be Cub Scouts together, didn't you?»

He did not reply. When I looked up I saw narrowed eyes and a furrowed brow.

«I've never met him» I added. «But I recognize the colors, and I know he's from out your way-around Kashfa.»

Luke smiled. «You always did your homework back in school, too,» he said.

«And usually on time» I agreed. «But with you I've been running late. Luke, I can't find a Trump for the Keep of the Four Worlds. And here's someone I don't know.»

I picked up the slim lady's card and waved it at him.

He smiled. «Gettin' weak and losin' my breath again,» he said. «You been to the Keep?»

«Yep.»

«Recently?»

I nodded.

«Tell you what,» he said at last. «Tell me what you saw at the Keep and how you learned some of that stuff about me and I'll tell you who she is.»

I thought quickly. I could say things so that I probably wouldn't be telling him anything he didn't already know.

So, «The other way around,» I said.

«Okay. The lady,» he stated, «is Sand.»

I stared so hard that I felt the beginnings of a contact. I smothered it.

«The long-lost,» he added.

I raised the card depicting the man who resembled her. «Then this must be Delwin,» I said.

«Right.»

«You didn't do these two cards. They're not your style, and you probably wouldn't have known what they looked like to begin with.»

«Perceptive. My father drew them, back in the time of the troubles for all the good it did him. They wouldn't help him either.»

«Either?»

«They weren't interested in helping me, despite their disaffection with this place. Count them as out of the game.»

«This place?» I said. «Where do you think you are, Luke?»

His eyes widened. He cast his gaze about the room. «The camp of the enemy,» he answered. «I had no choice. These are your quarters in Amber, right?»

«Wrong,» I replied.

«Don't bait me, Merle. You've got me. I'm your prisoner. Where am I?»

«Do you know who Vinta Bayle is?»

«No.»

«She was Caine's mistress. This is her family's place, way out in the country. She's just up the hall somewhere. Might even stop by. I think she's got a crush on me.»

«Uh-oh. She a tough lady?»

«Very.»

«What you doing making out with her this soon after the funeral? That's hardly decent.»

«Huh! If it weren't for you there wouldn't have been any funeral.» «

«Don't give me that indignation crap, Merle. If it had been your dad, Corwin, he'd killed, wouldn't you have gone after him?»

«That's not fair. My father wouldn't have done all those things Brand did.»

«Maybe, maybe not. But supposing he had? Even then. Wouldn't you have gone after Caine?»

I turned away. «I don't know,» I said finally. «It's too damned hypothetical.»

«You'd have done it. I know you, Merle. I'm sure you would have.»

I sighed. «Maybe,» I said. «Well, okay. Maybe I might have. But I would have stopped there. I wouldn't have gone after the others too. I don't want to make you feel any worse than you do about it, but your old man was psycho; you must know that. And you're not. I know you as well as you know me. I've been thinking about this for some time. You know, Amber recognizes the personal vendetta. You've got an arguable case there for one. And the death didn't even occur within Amber, if Random were really looking for an out for you.»

«Why should he be?»

«Because I'd be vouching for your integrity in other matters.»

«Come on, Merle -»

«You've got a classic vendetta defense - a son avenging his father's death.»

«I don't know… Hey, you trying to get out of telling me the stuff you promised to?»

«No, but»

«So you made it to the Keep of the Four Worlds. What did you learn there and how did you learn it?»

«Okay. You think about what I said, though,» I replied.

His expression remained unchanged.

Then, «There was an old hermit named Dave,» I began.

Luke fell asleep before I finished. I just let my voice trail off and sat there. After a time, I rose and located the wine bottle and poured a little into the glass, since Luke had drunk most of mine. I took it with me to the window and stared down and out across the patio, where the wind was rattling leaves. I wondered about what I'd said to Luke. It wasn't a full picture I'd given him, partly because I hadn't had time to go into it thoroughly, mainly because he hadn't seemed interested. But even if Random did let him off the hook officially in the matter of Caine's death, Julian or Gerard would probably be looking to kill him under the same vendetta code I'd been talking about. I didn't really know what to do. I was obliged to tell Random about him, but I'd be damned if I'd do it yet. There were still too many things I had to learn from him, and getting at him might be a lot harder if he were a prisoner back in Amber. Why had he ever gotten himself born as Brand's son, anyway?

I returned to the bedside seat, near which I had left our weapons and Luke's Trumps. I moved these items across the room, to where I seated myself in the more comfortable chair I had occupied earlier. I studied his cards again. Amazing. A whole bunch of history in my hand…

When Oberon's wife Rilga had shown less hardihood than many by aging rapidly and retiring to a reclusive life at a country shrine, he had gone off and remarried, somewhat to the chagrin of their children Caine, Julian and Gerard. But to confuse genealogists and sticklers for family legality, he had done it in a place where time flowed far more rapidly than in Amber. Interesting arguments both for and against the bigamous nature of his marriage to Harla may be made. I'm in no position to judge. I had the story from Flora years ago, and in that she'd never gotten along too well with Delwin and Sand, the offspring of that union, she was inclined to the pro-bigamy interpretation. I'd never seen pictures of Delwin or Sand until now. There weren't any hanging around the palace, and they were seldom mentioned. But they had lived in Amber for the relatively short time Harla was queen there. Following her death, they grew unhappy with Oberon's policies toward her homeland - which they visited often - and after a time they departed, vowing not to have anything to do with Amber again. At least that's the way I'd heard it. There could easily have been all sorts of sibling politicking involved, too. I don't know.

But here were two missing members of the royal family, and obviously Luke had teamed of them and approached them, hoping to revive old resentments and gain allies. He admitted that it hadn't worked. Two centuries is a long time to hold a grudge at high pitch. That's about how long it had been since their departure, as I understood it. I wondered fleetingly whether I should get in touch with them, just to say hello. If they weren't interested in helping Luke I didn't suppose they'd be interested in helping the other side either, now they were aware there was another side. It did seem proper that I should introduce myself and pay my respects, as a family member they'd never met. I decided that I would do it sometime, though the present moment was hardly appropriate. I added their Trumps to my own collection, along with good intentions.

And then there was Dalt a sworn enemy of Amber, I gathered. I studied his card again, and I wondered: If he were indeed such a good friend of Luke's, perhaps I should let him know what had happened. He might even know of the circumstances involved and mention something I could use. In fact, the more I thought about it - recalling his recent presence at the Keep of the Four Worlds - the more tempting it became to try to reach him. It seemed possible I could even pick up something about what was now going on in that place.

I gnawed a knuckle. Should I or shouldn't I? I couldn't see any harm that could come of it. I wasn't planning on giving anything away. Still; there were a few misgivings.

What the hell, I decided finally. Nothing ventured…:.

Hello, hello. Reaching out through the suddenly cold card…

A startled moment somewhere, and the sense of an Aha!

Like a portrait come to life, my vision stirred.

«Who are you?» the man asked, hand on hilt, blade half drawn.

«My name is Merlin,» I said, «and we've a mutual acquaintance named Rinaldo. I wanted to tell you that he'd been badly injured.»

By now, we both hovered between our two realities, solid and perfectly clear to each other. He was bigger than I'd thought from his representation, and he stood at the center of a stone-walled room, a window to his left showing a blue sky and a limb of cloud. His green eyes, at first wide, were now narrowed and the set of his jaw seemed a bit truculent.

«Where is he?» he inquired.

«Here. With me,» I answered.

«How fortunate,» he replied, and the blade was in his hand and he moved forward.

I Sipped the Trump away, which did not sever the contact. I had to summon the Logrus to do that - and it fell between us like the blade of a guillotine and jerked me back as if I had just touched a live wire. My only consolation was that Dalt had doubtless felt the same thing.

«Merle, what's going on?» Luke's voice came hoarsely. «I saw Dalt…»

«Uh, yeah. I just called him.»

He raised his head slightly. «Why?»

«To tell him about you. He's your friend, isn't he?»

«You asshole!» he said. «He's the one that did this to me!»

Then he began coughing and I rushed to his side.

«Get me some water, huh?» he said.

«Coming up.»

I went off to the bathroom and fetched him a glass. I propped him and he sipped it for a time.

«Maybe I should have told you,» he said finally. «Didn't think - you'd play games - that way, though - when you don't know - what's going on…»

He coughed again, drank more water.

«Hard to know what to tell you - and what not to,» he continued, a while later.

«Why not tell me everything?» I suggested.

He shook his head slightly. «Can't. Probably get you killed. More likely both of us.»

«The way things have been going, it seems as if it could happen whether you tell me or not.»

He smiled faintly and took another drink.

«Parts of this thing are personal,» he said then, «and I don't want anyone else involved.»

«I gather that your trying to kill me every spring for a while there was kind of personal, too,» I observed, «yet somehow I felt involved.»

«Okay, okay,» he said, slumping back and raising his right hand. «I told you I cut that out a long time ago.»

«But the attempts went on.»

«They weren't my doing.»

Okay, I decided. Try it. «It was Jasra, wasn't it?»

«What do you know about her?»

«I know she's your mother, and I gather this is her war too.»

He nodded. «So you know… All right. That makes it easier,» He paused to catch his breath. «She started me doing the April thirtieth stuff for practice. When I got to know you better and quit, she was mad.»

«So she continued it herself?»

He nodded.

«She wanted you to go after Caine,» I said.

«So did I.»

«But the others? She's leaning on you about them, I'll bet. And you're not so sure they have it coming.»

Silence.

«Are you?» I said.

He shifted his gaze away from my own and I heard his teeth grind together.

«You're off the hook,» he said at last. «I've no intention of hurting you. I won't let her do it either.»

«And what about Bleys and Random and Fiona and Flora and Gerard and -»

He laughed, which cost him a wince and a quick clutch at his chest. «They've nothing to worry about from us,» he said, «right now.»

«What do you mean?»

«Think,» he told me. «I could have trumped back to my old apartment, scared hell out of the new tenants and called an ambulance. I could be in an emergency room right now.»

«Why aren't you?»

«I've been hurt worse than this, and I've made it. I'm here because I need your help.»

«Oh? For what?»

He looked at me, then looked away again. «She's in bad trouble, and we've got to rescue her.»

«Who?» I asked, already knowing the answer.

«My mother,» he replied.

I wanted to laugh, but I couldn't when I saw the expression on his face. It took real balls to ask me to help rescue the woman who'd tried to kill me - not once, but many times - and whose big aim in life seemed to be the destruction of my relatives. Balls, or -

«I've no one else left to turn to,» he said.

«If you talk me into this one, Luke, you'll deserve the Salesman of the Year Award,» I said. «But I'm willing to listen.»

«Throat's dry again,» he said.

I went and refilled the glass. As I returned with it, it seemed there was a small noise in the hall. I continued listening while I helped Luke to a few more sips.

He nodded when he was finished, but I had heard another sound by then. I raised my finger to my lips and glanced at the door. I put down the glass, rose and crossed the room, retrieving my blade as I did so.

Before I reached the door, however, there was a gentle knock.

«Yes?» I said, advancing to it.

«It's me,» came Vinta's voice. «I know that Luke is in there, and I want to see him.»

«So you can finish him off?» I asked.

«I told you before that that is not my intention.»

«Then you're not human,» I said.

«I never claimed I was.»

«T'hen you're not Vinta Bayle,» I said.

There followed a long silence, then, «Supposing I'm not?»

«Then tell me who you are.»

«I can't.»

«Then meet me halfway,» I said, drawing upon all of my accumulated guesswork concerning her, «and tell me who you were.»

«I don't know what you mean.»

«Yes, you do. Pick one - any one. I don't care.»

There was another silence, then, «I dragged you from the fire,» she said, «but I couldn't control the horse. I died in the lake. You wrapped me in your cloak…»

That was not an answer I had anticipated. But it was good enough.

With the point of my weapon I raised the latch. She pushed the door open and glanced at the blade in my hand.

«Dramatic,» she remarked.

«You've impressed me,» I said, «by the perils with which I am beset.»

«Not sufficiently, it would seem.» She entered, smiling.

«What do you mean?» I asked.

«I didn't hear you ask him anything about the blue stones and what he might have homing in on you as a consequence of your attunement.»

«You've been eavesdropping.»

«A lifetime habit,» she agreed.

I turned toward Luke and introduced her. «Luke, this is Vinta Bayle sort of.»

Luke raised his right hand, his eyes never leaving her face. «I just want to know one thing,» he began.

«I'll bet you do» she replied. «Am I going to kill you or aren't I? Keep wondering. I haven't decided yet. Do you remember the time you were low on gas north of San Luis Obispo and you discovered your wallet was missing? You had to borrow money from your date to get back home. She had to ask you twice, too, before you paid her back.»

«How could you know that?» he whispered.

«You got in a fight with three bikers one day,» she went on. «You almost lost an eye when one of them wrapped a chain around your head. Seems to have healed up nicely. Can't see the scar -»

«And I won,» he added.

«Yes. Not too many people can pick up a Harley and throw it like you did.»

«I have to know,» he said, «how you learned these things.»

«Maybe I'll tell you that too, sometime,» she said. «I just mentioned them to keep you honest. Now I'm going to ask you some questions, and your life is going to depend on giving me honest answers. Understand -»

«Vinta,» I interrupted, «you told me that you weren't interested in killing Luke.»

«It's not at the top of my list,» she replied, «but if he's in the way of what is, he goes.»

Luke yawned. «I'll tell you about the blue stones,» he muttered. «I don't have anybody on a blue-stone detail after Merle now.»

«Might Jasra have someone tracking him that way?»

«Possible. I just don't know.»

«What about the ones who attacked him in Amber last night?»

«First I've heard of it,» he said, and he closed his eyes.

«Look at this,» she ordered, removing the blue button from her pocket.

He opened his eyes and squinted at it.

«Recognize it?»

«Nope,» he said, and closed his eyes again.

«And you don't mean Merle any harm now?»

«That's right,» he answered, his voice drifting off.

She opened her mouth again and I said, «Let him sleep. He's not going anywhere.»

She gave me an almost angry look, then nodded. «You're right,» she said.

«So what are you going to do now kill him while he's out?»

«No;» she replied. «He was telling the truth.»

«And does it make a difference?»

«Yes,» she told me, «for now.»

Chapter 7

I actually did get a fairly decent night's sleep despite everything, including a distant dogfight and a lot of howling. Vinta had been disinclined to continue at questions and answers, and I hadn't wanted her bothering Luke any more. I persuaded her to leave and let us rest. I sacked out on the comfortable chair, with my feet propped on the other one. I was hoping to continue my conversation with Luke in private. I remember chuckling right before I fell asleep as I tried to decide which of them I distrusted less.

I was awakened by the first brightening of the sky and a few arguments of birds. I stretched several times then and made my way to the bathroom. Half an ablution later I heard Luke cough and then whisper my name.

«Unless you're hemorrhaging, wait a minute,» I replied, and I dried myself off. «Need some water?» I asked while I was doing it.

«Yeah. Bring some.»

I threw the towel over my shoulder and took him a drink.

«Is she still around?» he asked me.

«No.»

«Give me the glass and go check the hall, will you? I'll manage.»

I nodded and passed it to him. I kept it quiet as I eased the door open. I stepped out into the hall, walked up to the corner. There was no one in sight.

«All clear,» I whispered as I came back into the room.

Luke was gone. A moment later I heard him in the bathroom.

«Damn! I'd have helped you!» I said.

«I can still take a leak by myself,» he replied, staggering back into the room, his good hand on the wall. «Had to see whether I could negotiate,» he added, lowering himself to the edge of the bed. He put his hand against his rib cage and panted. «Shit! that smarts!»

«Let me help you lie back.»

«Okay. Listen, don't let her know I can do even that much.»

«Okay,» I said. «Take it easy now. Rest.»

He shook his head. «I want to tell you as much as I can before she comes busting back in here,» he said, «and she will, too - believe me.»

«You know that for a fact?»

«Yes. She's not human, and she's more attuned to both of us than any blue stone ever was. I don't understand your style of magic, but I've got my own and I know what it tells me. It was your question about who she was that got me to working on the problem, though. Have you figured her out yet?»

«Not completely, no.»

«Well, I know she can switch bodies like changing clothes - and she can travel through Shadow.»

«Do the names Meg Devlin or George Hansen mean anything to you?» I asked.

«No. Should they?»

«Didn't think so. But she was both of them, I'm sure.»

I'd left out Dan Martinez, not because he'd shot it out with Luke and telling Luke would raise his distrust of her even further, but because I didn't want him to know that I was aware of the New Mexico guerrilla operation -and I could see that it might lead in that direction.

«She was also Gail Lampron.»

«Your old girlfriend, back in school?» I said.

«Yes. I thought there was something familiar about her immediately. But it didn't hit me till later. She has all of Gail's little mannerisms - the way she turns her head, the way she uses her hands and eyes when she's talking. Then she mentioned two events to which there had only been a single common witness - Gail.»

«It sounds as if she wanted you to know.»

«I believe she did,» he agreed.

«Why didn't she just come out and say it then, I wonder?»

«I don't think she can. There's something could be a spell on her, only it's hard to judge, her not being human and all.» He glanced furtively at the door as he said this. Then, «Check again,» he added.

«Still clear,» I said. «Now what about»

«Another time,» he said. «I've got to get out of here.»

«I can see your wanting to get away from her -» I began.

He shook his head. «That's not it,» he said. «I've got to hit the Keep of the Four Worlds - soon.»

«The shape you're in -»

«That's it. That's what I mean. I've got to get out of here so I can be in shape soon. I think old Sharu Garrul's gotten loose. That's the only way I can figure what happened.»

«What did happen?»

«I got a distress call from my mother. She'd gone back to the Keep after I'd gotten her away from you.»

«Why?»

«Why, what?»

«Why'd she head for the Keep?»

«Well, the place is a power center. The way the four worlds come together there releases an awful lot of free power, which an adept can tap into -»

«Four worlds actually do come together there? You mean you're in a different shadow depending on the direction you might take off in?»

He studied me for a moment. «Yes,» he finally said, «but I'll never get this thing told if you want all the little details.»

«And I won't understand it if too much gets left out. So she went to the Keep to raise some power and got in trouble instead. She called you to come help her. What did she want that power for, anyway?»

«Mm. Well, I'd been having trouble with Ghostwheel. I thought I almost had him talked into coming over to our side, but she probably thought I wasn't making progress fast enough and apparently decided to try binding him with a massive spell after -»

«Wait a minute. You were talking to Ghost? How did you get in touch? Those Trumps you drew are no good.»

«I know. I went in.»

«How'd you manage it?»

«In scuba gear. I wore a wet suit and oxygen tanks.»

«Son of a gun. That's an interesting approach:»

«I wasn't Grand D's top salesman for nothing. I almost had him convinced, too. But she'd learned where I'd stashed you, and she decided to try expediting matters by putting you under control, then using you to clinch the deal - as if you'd come over to our side. Anyhow, when that plan fell through and I had to go and get her away from you, we split up again. I thought she was headed for Kashfa, but she went to the Keep instead. Like I said, I think it was to try a massive working against Ghostwheel. I believe something that she did there inadvertently freed Sharu, and he took the place over again and captured her. Anyhow, I got this frantic sending from her, so -»

«Uh, this old wizard,» I said, «had been locked up there for-how long?»

Luke began to shrug, thought better of it. «Hell, I don't know. Who cares? He's been a cloak rack since I was a boy.»

«A cloak rack?»

«Yeah. He lost a sorcerous duel. I don't really know whether she beat him or whether it was Dad. Whoever it was, though, caught him in midinvocation, arms outspread and all. Froze him like that, stiff as a board. He got moved to a place near an entranceway later. People would hang cloaks and hats on him. The servants would dust him occasionally. I even carved my name on his leg when I was little, like on a tree. I'd always thought of him as furniture. But I learned later that he'd been considered pretty good in his day.»

«Did this guy ever wear a blue mask when he worked?»

«You've got me. I don't know anything about his style. Say, let's not get academic or she'll be here before I finish. In fact, maybe we ought to go now, and I can tell you the rest later.»

«Un-uh,» I said. «You are, as you noted last night, my prisoner. I'd be nuts to let you go anywhere without knowing a hell of a lot more than I do. You're a threat to Amber. That bomb you tossed at the funeral was pretty damn real. You think I want to give you another shot at us?»

He smiled, then lost it. «Why'd you have to be born Corwin's son, anyway?» he said. Then, «Can I give you my parole on this?» he asked.

«I don't know. I'm going to be in a lot of trouble if they find out I had you and didn't bring you in. What terms are you talking? Will you swear off your war against Amber?»

He gnawed his lower lip. «There's no way I can do that, Merle.»

«There are things you're not telling me, aren't there?»

He nodded. Then he grinned suddenly. «But I'll make you a deal you can't refuse.»

«Luke, don't give me that hard-sell crap.»

«]ust give me a minute, okay? And you'll see why you can't afford to pass this one up.»

«Luke, I'm not biting.»

«Only one minute. Sixty seconds. You're free to say no when I'm done.»

«All right,» I said. «Tell me.»

«Okay. I've got a piece of information vital to the security of Amber, and I'm certain nobody there has an inkling of it. I'll give it to you, after you've helped me.»

«Why should you want to give us something like that? It sounds kind of self-defeating.»

«I don't, and it is. But it's all I've got to offer. Help me get out of here to a place I have in mind where the time flow is so much faster that I'll be healed up in a day or so in terms of local time at the Keep.»

«Or here, for that matter, I'd guess.»

«True. Then - uh-oh!»

He sprawled on the bed, clutched at his chest with his good hand and began to moan.

«Lukel»

He raised his head, winked at me, glanced at the door and commenced moaning again.

Shortly, there came a knocking.

«Come in,» I said.

Vinta entered and studied us both. For a moment, there seemed to be a look of genuine concern on her face as she regarded Luke. Then she advanced to the bed and placed her hands upon his shoulders. She stood there for about half a minute, then announced, «You're going to live.»

«At the moment,» Luke replied, «I don't know whether that's a blessing or a curse.» Then he slipped his good arm around her, drew her to him suddenly and kissed her. «Hi, Gail,» he said. «It's been a long time.»

She drew away with less haste than she might have. «You seem improved already,» she observed, «and I can see that Merle's worked something to help you along.» She smiled faintly for an instant, then said, «Yes, it has been, you dumb jock. You still like your eggs sunny-side up?»

«Right,» he acknowledged. «But not half a dozen. Maybe just two today. I'm out of sorts.»

«All right,» she said. «Come on, Merle. I'll need you to supervise.»

Luke gave me a funny look, doubtless certain she wanted to talk with me about him. And for that matter, I wasn't certain I wanted to leave him alone even though I had all of his Trumps in my pocket. I was still uncertain as to the extent of his abilities, and I knew a lot less concerning his intentions. So I hung back.

«Maybe someone should stay with the invalid,» I told her.

«He'll be all right,» she said, «and I might need your help if I can't scare up a servant.»

On the other hand, maybe she had something interesting to tell me…

I found my shirt and drew it on. I ran a hand through my hair.

«Okay,» I said. «See you in a bit, Luke.»

«Hey,» he responded, «see if you can turn up a walking stick for me, or cut me a staff or something.»

«Isn't that rushing things a bit?» Vinta asked.

«Never can tell,» Luke replied.

So I fetched my blade and took it along. As I followed Vinta out and down the stairs, it occurred to me that when any two of us got together we would probably have something to say about the third.

As soon as we were out of earshot, Vinta remarked, «He took a chance, coming to you.»

«Yes, he did.»

«So things must be going badly for him, if he felt you were the only one he could turn to.»

«I'd say that's true.»

«Also, I'm sure he wants something besides a place to recover.»

«Probably so.»

`Probably,' hell! He must have asked by now.»

«Perhaps.»

«Either he did or he didn't.»

«Vinta, obviously you've told me everything you intend to tell me,» I said. «Well, vice versa. We're even. I don't owe you explanations. If I feel like trusting Luke, I will. Anyhow, I haven't decided yet.»

«So he has made you a pitch. I might be able to help you decide if you'll let me know what it is.»

«No, thanks. You're as bad as he is.»

«It's your welfare I'm concerned with. Don't be so quick to spurn an ally.»

«I'm not,» I said. «But if you stop to think about it, I know a lot more about Luke than I do about you. I think I know the things on which I shouldn't trust him as well as I do the safe ones.»

«I hope you're not betting your life on it.»

I smiled. «That's a matter on which I tend to be conservative.»

We entered the kitchen, where she spoke with a woman I hadn't met yet who seemed in charge there. She left our breakfast orders with her and led me out the side door and onto the patio. From there, she indicated a stand of trees off to the east.

«You ought to be able to find a good sapling in there,» she said, «for Luke's staff.»

«Probably so,» I replied, and we began walking in that direction. «So you really were Gail Lampron,» I said suddenly.

«Yes.»

«I don't understand this body-changing bit at all.»

«And I'm not about to tell you.»

«Care to tell me why not?»

«Nope.»

«Can't or won't?»

«Can't,» she said.

«But if I already know something, would you be willing to add a bit!»

«Maybe. Try me.»

«When you were Dan Martinez you took a shot at one of us. Which one was it?»

«Luke,» she replied.

«Why?»

«I'd become convinced that he was not the one - that is, that he represented a threat to you -»

«-and you just wanted to protect me,» I finished.

«Exactly.»

«What did you mean `that he was not the one'?»

«Slip of the tongue. That looks like a good tree over there.»

I chuckled. «Too thick. Okay, be that way.»

I headed on into the grove. There were a number of possibilities off to the right.

As I moved through the morning-lanced interstices, damp leaves and dew adhering to my boots, I became aware of some unusual scuffing along the way, a series of marks leading off farther to the right, where

«What's that?» I said, kind of rhetorically, since I didn't think Vinta would know either, as I headed toward a dark mass at the shady foot of an old tree.

I reached it ahead of her. It was one of the Bayle dogs, a big brown fellow. Its throat had been torn open. The blood was dark and congealed. A few insects were crawling on it. Off farther to the right I saw the remains of a smaller dog. It had been disemboweled.

I studied the area about the remains. The marks of very large paws were imprinted in the damp earth. At least they were not the three-toed prints of the deadly doglike creatures I had encountered in the past. They seemed simply to be those of a very large dog.

«This must be what I heard last night,» I remarked. «I thought it sounded like a dogfight.»

«When was that?» she asked.

«Some time after you left. I was drowsing.»

Then she did a strange thing. She knelt, leaned and sniffed the track. When she recovered there was a slightly puzzled expression on her face. «What did you find?» I asked.

She shook her head, then stared off to the northeast. «I'm not sure,» she finally said, «but it went that way.»

I studied the ground further, rising and finally moving along the trail it had left. It did run off in that direction, though I lost it after several hundred feet when it departed the grove. Finally, I turned away.

«One of the dogs attacked the others, I guess,» I observed. «We'd better find that stick and head back if we want our breakfasts warm.» Inside, I learned that Luke's breakfast had been sent up to him. I was torn. I wanted to take mine upstairs, to join him and continue our conversation. If I did, though, Vinta would accompany me and the conversation would not be continued. Nor could I talk further with her under those circumstances. So I would have to join her down here, which meant leaving Luke alone for longer than I liked.

So I went along with her when she said, «We will eat in here,» and led me into a large hall. I guessed she had chosen it because my room with its open window was above the patio, and Luke could have heard us talking if we ate out there.

We sat at the end of a long darkwood table, where we were served.

When we were alone again, she asked, «What are you going to do now?»

«What do you mean?» I asked, sipping some grape juice.

She glanced upward. «With him,» she said. «Take him back to Amber?»

«It would seem the logical thing to do,» I replied.

«Good,» she said. «You should probably transport him soon. They have decent medical facilities at the palace.»

I nodded. «Yes, they do.»

We ate a few mouthfuls, then she asked, «That is what you intend doing, isn't it?»

«Why do you ask?»

«Because anything else would be absolutely foolish, and obviously he is not going to want to do it. Therefore, he will try to talk you into something else, something that will give him some measure of freedom while he recovers. You know what a line of shit he has. He'll make it sound like a great idea, whatever it is. You must remember that he is an enemy of Amber, and when he is ready to move again you will be in the way.» «It makes sense,» I said.

«I'm not finished.»

«Oh?»

She smiled and ate a few more bites, to keep me wondering. Finally,

«He came to you for a reason,» she continued. «He could have crawled off to any of a number of places to lick his wounds. But he came to you because he wants something. He's gambling, but it's a calculated thing. Don't go for it, Merle. You don't owe him anything.»

«I don't know why you think me incapable of taking care of myself,» I replied.

«I never said that,» she responded. «But some decisions are finely balanced things. A little extra weight this way or that sometimes makes the difference. You know Luke, but so do I. This is not a time to be giving him any breaks.»

«You have a point there,» I said.

«So you have decided to give him what he wants!»

I smiled and drank some coffee. «Hell, he hasn't been conscious long enough to give me the pitch,» I said. «I've thought of these things, and I want to know what he's got in mind too.»

«I never said you shouldn't find out as much as you can. I just wanted to remind you that talking with Luke can sometimes be like conversing with a dragon.»

«Yeah,» I acknowledged. «I know.»

«And the longer you wait the harder it's going to be,» she added.

I took a gulp of coffee; then, «Did you like him?» I asked.

«Like?» she said. «Yes,I did. And I still do. That is not material at this point, though.»

«I don't know about that,» I said.

«What do you mean?»

«You wouldn't harm him without good reason.»

«No, I wouldn't.»

«He is no threat to me at the moment.»

«He does not seem to be.»

«Supposing I were to leave him here in your care while I went off to Amber to walk the Pattern and to prepare them for the news?»

She shook her head vigorously. «No,» she stated. «I will not - I cannot - take that responsibility at this time.»

«Why not?»

She hesitated.

«And please don't say again that you cannot tell me» I went on. «Find a way to tell me as much as you can.»

She spoke slowly then, as if choosing her words very carefully. «Because it is more important for me to watch you than Luke. There is still danger for you which I do not understand, even though it no longer seems to be proceeding from him. Guarding you against this unknown peril is of higher priority than keeping an eye on him. Therefore, I cannot remain here. If you are returning to Amber, so am I»

«I appreciate your concern,» I said, «but I will not have you dogging my footsteps.»

«Neither of us has a choice.»

«Supposing I simply trump out of here to some distant shadow?»

«I will be obliged to follow you.»

«In this form, or another?»

She looked away. She poked at her food.

«You've already admitted that you can be other persons. You locate me in some arcane Fashion, then you take possession of someone in my vicinity.»

She took a drink of coffee.

«Perhaps something prevents you from saying it» I continued, «but that's the case. I know it.»

She nodded once, curtly, and resumed eating.

«Supposing I did trump out right now» I said, «and you followed after in your peculiar fashion.» I thought back to my telephone conversations with Meg Devlin and Mrs. Hansen. «Then the real Vinta Bayle would wake up in her own body with a gap in her memory, right?»

«Yes,» she answered softly.

«And that would leave Luke here in the company of a woman who would be happy to destroy him if she had any inkling who he really is.»

She smiled faintly. «Just so,» she said.

We ate in silence for a time. She had attempted to foreclose all my choices, to force me to trump back to Amber and take Luke with me. I do not like being manipulated or coerced. My reflexive attempt to do something other than what is desired of me then feels forced also.

I refilled our coffee cups when I had finished eating. I regarded a collection of dog portraits that hung on the wall across from me. I sipped and savored. I did not speak because I could think of nothing further to say.

Finally, she did. «So what are you going to do?» she asked me.

I finished my coffee and rose. «I am going to take Luke his stick,» I said.

I pushed my chair back into place and headed for the corner of the room where I had leaned the stick.

«And then?» she said. «What will you do?»

I glanced back at her as I hefted the staff. She sat very erect, her hands palms down on the table. The Nemesis look overlay her features once again, and I could almost feel electricity in the air.

«Whatever I must,» I replied, and I headed for the door.

I increased my pace as soon as I was out of sight. When I hit the stairs and saw that she was not following,I took the steps two at a time. On the way up, I withdrew my cards and located the proper one.

When I entered the room I saw that Luke was resting, his back against the bed's pillows. His breakfast tray was on the smaller chair, beside the bed. I dropped the latch on the door.

«What's the matter, man? We under attack or something?» Luke asked.

«Start getting up,» I said.

I picked up his weapon then and crossed to the bed. I gave him a hand sitting up, thrust the staff and the blade at him.

«My hand has been forced,» I said, «and I'm not about to turn you over to Random.»

«That's a comfort,» he observed.

«But we have to clear out - now.»

«That's all right by me.»

He leaned on the staff, got slowly to his feet. I heard a noise in the hall, but it was already too late. I'd raised the card and was concentrating. There came a pounding on the door.

«You're up to something and I think it's the wrong thing,» Vinta called out.

I did not reply. The vision was already coming clear.

The doorframe splintered from the force of a tremendous kick, and the latch was torn loose. There was a look of apprehension on Luke's face as I reached out and took hold of his arm.

«Come on,» I said.

Vinta burst into the room as I led Luke forward, her eyes flashing, her hands extended, reaching. Her cry of «Fool!» seemed to change into a wail as she was washed by the spectrum, rippled and faded.

We stood in a patch of grass, and Luke let out a deep breath he had been holding.

«You believe in cutting things close, buddy - boy,» he remarked, and then he looked around and recognized the place.

He smiled crookedly.

«What do you know» he said. «A crystal cave.»

«From my own experience,» I said, «the time flow here should be about what you were asking for.»

He nodded and we began moving slowly toward the high blue hill. «Still plenty of rations,» I added, «and the sleeping bag should be where I left it.»

«It will serve,» he acknowledged.

He halted, panting, before we reached the foot. I saw his gaze drift toward a number of strewn bones off to our left. It would have been months since the pair who had removed the boulder had fallen there, long enough for scavengers to have done a thorough job. Luke shrugged, advanced a little, leaned against blue stone. He lowered himself slowly into a sitting position.

«Going to have to wait before I can climb,» he said, «even with you helping.»

«Sure,» I said. «We can finish our conversation. As I recall, you were going to make me an offer I couldn't refuse. I was to bring you to a place like this, where you could recover fast vis-a-vis the time flow at the Keep. You, in turn, had a piece of information vital to the security of Amber.»

«Right» he agreed, «and you didn't hear the rest of my story either. They go together.»

I hunkered across from him. «You told me that your mother had fled to the Keep, apparently gotten into trouble there and called to you for help.»

«Yes,» he acknowledged. «So I dropped the business with Ghostwheel and tried to help her. I got in touch with Dalt, and he agreed to come and attack the Keep.»

«It's always good to know a band of mercenaries you can get hold of in a hurry,» I said.

He gave me a quick, strange look but I was able to maintain an innocent expression.

«So we led them through Shadow and we attacked the place,» he said then. «It had to be us that you saw when you were there.»

I nodded slowly. «It looked as if you made it over the wall. What went wrong?»

«I still don't know,» he said. «We were doing all right. Their defense was crumbling and we were pushing right along, when suddenly Dalt turned on me. We'd been separated for a time; then he appeared again and attacked me. At first I thought he'd made a mistake - we were all grimy and bloody - and I shouted to him that it was me. But he just kept coming. That's how he was able to do a job like this on me. For a while I didn't want to strike back because I thought it was a misunderstanding and he'd realize his mistake in a few seconds.»

«Do you think he sold you out? Or that it was something he'd been planning for a long time? Some grudge?»

«I don't like to think that.»

«Magic, then?»

«Maybe. I don't know.»

A peculiar thought occurred to me. «Did he know you'd killed Caine?» I asked.

«No, I make it a point never to tell anybody everything I'm about.»

«You wouldn't kid me, would you?»

He laughed, moved as if to clap me on the shoulder, winced and thought better of it.

«Why do you ask?» he said then.

«I don't know. Just curious.»

«Sure,» he said. Then, «What say you give me a hand up and inside, so I can see what kind of supplies you've left me?»

«Why?» I got to my feet and helped him to his. We moved around to the right to the slope of easiest ascent, and I guided him slowly to the top.

Once we'd achieved the summit he leaned on his staff and stared down into the opening.

«No really easy way down in,» he said, «for me. At first I was thinking you could roll up a barrel from the larder, and I could get down to it and then down to the floor. But now I look at it, it's an even bigger drop than I remembered. I'd tear something open, sure.»

«Mm-hm,» I said. «Hang on. I've got an idea.»

I fumed away from him and climbed back down. Then I made my way along the base of the blue rise to my right until I had rounded two shiny shoulders and was completely out of Luke's line of sight.

I did not care to use the Logrus in his presence if I did not have to. I did not wish for him to see how I went about things, and I did not want to give him any idea as to what I could or could not do. I'm not that comfortable letting people know too much about me, either.

The Logrus appeared at my summons, and I reached into it, extended through it. My desire was framed, became the aim. My sending extending sought the thought. Far, far…

I kept extending for the damnedest long time. We really had to be out in the Shadow boonies…

Contact.

I did not jerk, but rather exerted a slow and steady pressure. I felt it move toward me across the shadows.

«Hey, Merle! Everything okay?» I heard Luke call.

«Yeah,» I answered, and I did not elaborate.

Closer, closer…

There!

I staggered when it arrived, because it came to me too near to one end.

The far end bounced on the ground. So I moved to the middle and took a new grip. I hefted it and carried it back.

I set it against a steep area of the rise a bit in advance of Luke's position and I mounted quickly. I began drawing it up behind me then.

«Okay, where'd you get the ladder?» he asked.

«Found it,» I said.

«Looks like wet paint on the side there.»

«Maybe someone lost it just recently.»

I began lowering it into the opening. Several feet protruded after it reached the bottom. I adjusted it for stability,

«I'll start down first,» I said, «and stay right under you.»

«Take my stick and my blade down first, will you?»

«Sure. '.

I did that thing. By the time I climbed back he had caught hold and gotten onto it, had begun his descent.

«You'll have to teach me that trick one of these days,» he said, breathing heavily.

«Don't know what you're talking about,» I answered.

He descended slowly, pausing to rest at each rung, and he was flushed and panting when he reached the bottom. He slumped to the floor immediately, pressing his right palm against his lower rib cage. After a time, he inched backward a bit and rested against the wall.

«You okay?» I asked.

He nodded. «Will be,» he said, «in a few minutes. Being stabbed takes a lot out of you.»

«Want a blanket?»

«No, thanks.»

«Well, you rest here and I'll go check the larder and see whether anything's gotten at the supplies. Want me to bring you anything?»

«Some water,» he said.

The supplies proved to be in good order, and the sleeping bag was still where I'd left it. I returned with a drink for Luke and a few ironic memories of the occasion when he'd done the same for me.

«Looks as if you're in business,» I told him. «There's still plenty of stuff.»

«You didn't drink all the wine, did you?» he asked between sips.

«No.»

«Good.»

«Now, you said you have a piece of information vital to the interests of Amber,» I said. «Care to tell me about it?»

He smiled. «Not yet,» he said.

«I thought that was our deal.»

«You didn't hear the whole thing. We were interrupted.»

I shook my head. But, «All right, we were interrupted,» I acknowledged. «Tell me the rest.»

«I've got to get back on my feet, so I can take the Keep and free my mother…»

I nodded.

«The information is yours after we rescue her.»

«Hey! Wait a minute! You're asking a hell of a lot!»

«Not for what I'm paying.»

«Sounds like I'm buying a pig in a poke.»

«Yes, I guess you are. But believe me, it'll be worth knowing.»

«What if it becomes worth knowing while I'm waiting?»

«No, I've figured the timing on this. My recovery is only going to take a couple of days, Amber time. I can't see the matter coming up that fast.»

«Luke, this is starting to sound like some sort of trick.»

«It is,» he said, «but it will benefit Amber as well as myself.»

«That's another thing. I can't see you giving something like this away to the enemy.»

He sighed. «It might even be enough to get me off the hook,» he added.

«You're thinking of calling off your feud?»

«I don't know. But I've been doing a lot of thinking, and if I did decide to go that route it would make for a real good opener.»

«And if you decided not to, you'd be screwing yourself. Wouldn't you?»

«I could live with it, though. It might make my job harder, but not impossible.»

«I don't know,» I said. «If word of this gets out and I've got nothing to show for letting you get away like this, I'll be in real hot water.»

«I won't tell anybody if you won't.»

«There's Vinta.»

«And she keeps insisting that her big aim in life is to protect you. Besides, she won't be there if you go back. Or rather, there will be the real Vinta, having awakened as from a troubled sleep.»

«How can you be so sure?»

«Because you've left. She's probably already off seeking you.»

«Do you know what she really is?»

«No, but I'll help you speculate sometime.»

«Not now?»

«No, I've got to sleep some more. It's catching up with me again.»

«Then let's go over this deal one more time. What are you going to do, how do you intend to do it and what are you promising me?»

He yawned. «I stay here till I'm back in shape,» he said. «Then when I'm ready to attack the Keep I get in touch with you. Which reminds me, you still have my Trumps.»

«I know. Keep talking. How do you intend taking the Keep?»

«I'm working on it. I'll let you know that too. Anyhow, you can help us or not at that point, as you see fit. I wouldn't mind having another sorcerer with me, though. Once we're in and she's freed, I'll tell you what I promised and you can take it back to Amber.»

«What if you lose?» I asked.

He looked away. «I guess there's always that possibility,» he finally agreed. «Okay, how's this? I'll write the whole thing out and keep it with me. I'll give it to you - by Trump or in person - before we attack. Win or lose, I'll have paid my way with you.»

He extended his good hand and I clasped it.

«Okay,» I said.

«Then let me have my Trumps back, and I'll be talking to you as soon as I get moving again.»

I hesitated. Finally, I drew out my pack, which was now grown quite thick. I shuffled out my own then along with a number of his and passed him what remained.

«What about the rest?»

«I want to study them, Luke. Okay?»

He shrugged weakly. «I can always make more. But give me back my mother's.»

«Here.»

He accepted it, then said, «I don't know what you've got in mind, but I'll give you a piece of advice: Don't screw around with Dalt. He's not the nicest of guys when he's normal, and I think there's something wrong with him right now. Keep away from him.»

I nodded, then got to my feet.

«You're going now?» he asked.

«Right.»

«Leave me the ladder.»

«It's all yours.»

«What are you going to tell them back in Amber?»

«Nothing - yet,» I said. «Hey, you want me to bring some food up here before I go? Save you a trip.»

«Yeah. Good idea. Bring me a bottle of wine, too.»

I went back and got him a load of provisions. I dragged in the sleeping bag also.

I started up the ladder, then paused. «You don't know your own mind on this yet,» I said, «do you?»

He smiled. «Don't be too sure of that.»

When I got to the top I stared at the big boulder that had once sealed me in. Earlier, I'd thought of returning the favor. I could keep track of the time, come get him when he was back on his feet. That way, he couldn't pull a disappearing act on me. I had decided against it, though, not only because I was the only one who knew he was here and if something happened to me he'd be dead. Mainly, it was because he wouldn't be able to reach me with my Trump when he was ready to move, if I kept him fully confined. That's what I told myself, anyhow.

I stooped and caught hold of the boulder, anyway, and pushed it nearer the opening.

«Merle! What are you doing?» - from below.

«Looking for fishing bait,» I answered.

«Hey, come on! Don't…»

I laughed and pushed it a little nearer.

«Merle!»

«Thought you might want the door closed, in case it rains,» I said. «But it's too damned heavy. Forget it. Take it easy.»

I turned and jumped. I thought the extra adrenaline might do him some good.

Chapter 8

When I hit the ground I kept going, back to the place from which I had conjured the ladder, out of sight from several directions.

I withdrew one of the blank cards. Time was running.

When I fished out the pencil, I discovered that its point had broken. I unsheathed my blade, which was about the length of my arm. I'd found another use for the thing.

A minute or so later I had the card before me on a Bat rock, and I was sketching my room back at the Arbor House, the forces of the Logrus moving through my hands. I had to work deliberately, getting the proper feeling of the place into the drawing. Finally, when it was finished, I stood. It was right, it was ready. I opened my mind and regarded my work until it became reality. Then I walked forward into the room. Just as I did I thought of something I wanted to ask Luke, but it was too late.

Beyond the window, the shadows of the trees were stretching into the east. I had obviously been gone for most of the day.

When I turned I saw a sheet of paper upon the now made-up bed, secured against breezes by the edge of a pillow. I crossed to it and picked it up, removing the small blue button which lay atop it before I did so.

The writing was in English. It said. PUT THE BUTTON IN A SAFE PLACE TILL YOU NEED IT. I WOULDN'T CARRY IT AROUND TOO MUCH. I HOPE YOU DID THE RIGHT THING. I GUESS I'LL FIND OUT PRETTY SOON. SEE YOU AROUND.

It was unsigned.

Safe or not, I couldn't just leave it there. So I wrapped the button in the note and put it in my pocket. Then I fetched my cloak from the closet and slung it over my arm.

I departed the room. The latch being broken, I left the door standing wide. I stopped in the hallway and listened, but I heard no voices, no sounds of movement.

I made my way to the stairs and headed down. I was almost to the bottom before I noticed her, so still did she sit, there beside the window to my right, a tray of bread and cheese, a bottle and a goblet on a small table at her side.

«Merlin!» she said suddenly, half rising. «The servants said you were here, but when I looked I couldn't find you.»

«I was called away,» I said, descending the final stair and advancing. «How are you feeling?»

«How do you - what do you know about me?» she asked.

«You probably don't remember anything that happened during the past couple of days,» I replied.

«You are right,» she said. «Won't you sit down?»

She gestured at the empty chair at the other side of the small table.

«Please join me.» She indicated the tray. «And let me get you some wine.»

«That's all right,» I said, seeing that she was drinking the white.

She rose and crossed the room to a cabinet, opened it and took out another goblet. When she returned she poured a healthy slug of Bayle's Piss into it and set it near my hand. I guessed it was possible they kept the good stuff for themselves.

«What can you tell me about my blackout?» she asked. «I'd been in Amber, and the next thing I knew I was back here and several days had gone by.»

«Yes,» I said, taking up a cracker and a bit of cheese. «About what time i did you become yourself again?»

«This morning.»

«It's nothing to worry about - now,» I answered. «There shouldn't be a recurrence.

«But what was it?»

«Just something that's been going around,» I said, trying the wine.

«It seems more like magic than the flu.»

«Perhaps there was a touch of that too, - I agreed. «You never know what might blow in out of Shadow. But almost everyone I know who's had it is okay now.»

She furrowed her brow. «It was very strange.»

I had a few more crackers and sips of the wine. They did keep the good stuff for themselves.

«There is absolutely nothing to worry about,» I repeated.

She smiled and nodded. «I believe you. What are you doing here, anyhow?»

«Stopover. I'm on my way back to Amber,» I said, «from elsewhere. Which reminds me - may I borrow a horse?»

«Certainly,» she replied. «How soon will you be leaving?»

«As soon as I get the horse,» I said.

She got to her feet. «I didn't realize you were in a hurry. I'll take you over to the stables now.»

«Thanks.»

I grabbed two more crackers and another piece of cheese on the way out and tossed off the rest of the wine. I wondered where the blue fog might be drifting now.

When I'd located a good horse, which she told me I could have delivered to their stable in Amber, I saddled him and fitted his bridle. He was a gray, named Smoke. I donned my cloak then and clasped Vinta's hands.

«Thanks for the hospitality,» I said, «even if you don't recall it.»

«Don't say good-bye yet,» she told me. «Ride around to the kitchen door off the patio, and I'll give you a water bottle and some food for the road. We didn't have a mad affair that I don't remember, did we?»

«A gentleman never tells,» I said.

She laughed and slapped my shoulder. «Come see me sometime when I'm in Amber,» she told me, «and refresh my memory.»

I grabbed a set of saddlebags, a bag of chow for Smoke and a longish tethering rope. I led him outside as Vinta headed back to the house. I mounted then and rode slowly after her, a few dogs capering about me. I circled the manor, taking the long way around, drew rein and dismounted near the kitchen. I considered the patio, wishing I had one just like it where I could sit and take coffee in the morning. Or had it just been the company?

After a time, the door opened and Vinta came out and passed me a bundle and a flask. As I was securing them, she said, «Let my father know that I'll be back in a few days, will you? Tell him that I came to the country because I wasn't feeling well, but that I'm all right now.»

«Glad to,» I said.

«I don't really know why you were here,» she said. «But if it involves politics or intrigue I don't want to know.»

«Okay,» I said.

«If a servant took a meal to a big red-haired man who seemed to be pretty badly injured, this would be better forgotten?»

«I'd say.»

«It will be, then. But one of these days I'd like the story.»

«Me too,» I said. «We'll see what we can do.»

«So, have a good journey.»

«Thanks. I'll try.»

I clasped her hand, turned away and mounted.

«So long.»

«See you in Amber,» she said.

I mounted and continued my circuit of the house until I was back near the stables again. I headed past them then to a trail we had ridden that led off in the direction I wanted. Back toward the house, a dog began to howl and another joined it moments later. There was a breeze out of the south, and it carried a few leaves past me. I wanted to be on the road, far away and alone. I value my solitude because that is when I seem to do my best thinking, and right now I had many things to think over.

I rode to the northwest. About ten minutes later I came to a dirt road we had crossed the other day. This time I followed it westward, and it finally took me to the crossroads with the marker indicating that Amber lay straight ahead. I rode on.

It was a yellow dirt road that I traveled, showing the impress of many wagon wheels. It followed the contours of the land, passing between fallow fields bordered by low stone fences, a few trees at either hand. I could see the stark outlines of mountains far ahead, standing above the forested area I was soon to encounter. We moved along at an easy gait, and I let my mind drift over the events of the past few days.

That I had an enemy I did not doubt. Luke had assured me that it was no longer him, and I had found him to be more than a little persuasive. He need not have come to me to be patched up, as both he and Vinta had pointed out. And he could have found his own way to the crystal cave or some other sanctuary. And the business about my helping him to rescue Jasra could have waited. I was more than half convinced that he was trying to get back on better terms with me again quickly because I was his only contact with the Court of Amber, and his fortunes had taken a turn for the worse. I had a feeling that what he really wanted was an official determination as to his status with Amber, and that he had mentioned the piece of important information he would be willing to surrender both as a sign of good faith and as a bargaining chip. I was not at all certain that I, personally, would be very crucial to any plan he might have for rescuing Jasra. Not when he knew the Keep inside and out, was some kind of sorcerer himself and had a band of mercs he could transport from the shadow Earth. For all I knew, that fancy ammo of his would work there as well as in Amber. And whether that was true or not, why couldn't he just trump his attack force into the place? He wouldn't even really have to win a battle - just get in, grab Jasra and get out. No, I did not feel that I was really necessary to whatever operation he finally decided upon. I'd a feeling he'd waved a red herring at me, hoping that when the air cleared we would simply consider what he had and what he wanted and make him an offer.

I'd a feeling, too, that he might be willing to call it quits on the vendetta now that Caine was out of the way and family honor satisfied. And I'd a notion that Jasra was the stumbling block on his side. While I'd no idea what hold she might have over him, it had occurred to me that the piece of information to which he'd referred might represent some means of neutralizing her. If he got it to us quietly and it seemed to come from our side, he could save face with her as well as buying peace with us. Tantalizing. My problem now was to find the best way to present this at court without looking like a traitor for having let him go. Which meant I had to show that the profit would be worth the investment.

There were more trees at the roadside now, and the forest itself was nearer. I crossed a wooden bridge above a clear stream, and the gentle splashing sounds followed me for a time. There were brown fields and distant hams to my left, a wagon with a broken axle off to my right…

And if I had read Luke wrong? Was there some way I might be able to pressure him and make my interpretation come out right anyway? A small idea began to form. I was not overjoyed with it, but I considered it nevertheless. Risk and speed were what it involved. It had its merits, though. I pushed it as far as I could, then put it aside and returned to my original train of thought.

Somewhere, there was an enemy. And if it wasn't Luke, who was it?

Jasra seemed the most obvious candidate. She had made her feelings to ward me pretty clear on the occasions of our two meetings. She could well be the one who had dispatched the assassins I had encountered in Death

Alley. In that case, I was probably safe for a time - with her a prisoner back at the Keep - unless, of course, she had sent along a few more before she had been captured. That would have been redundant, though. Why waste all that manpower on me? I had only been a minor figure in the event she sought to avenge, and the men who came after me had been almost sufficient for the task.

And if it wasn't Jasra? Then I was still in jeopardy. The wizard in the blue mask, whom I assumed to be Sharu Gariul, had caused me to be pursued by a tornado, which seemed a far less friendly overture than the flowers that had followed. This latter, of course, identified him with the individual behind my peculiar experience at Flora's apartment back in San Francisco. In that instance, he had initiated the encounter, which meant that he had some designs on me. What was it he'd said? Something about the possibility of us being at cross-purposes at some future time. How interesting, in retrospect. For I could now see the possibility of such a situation's occurring.

But was it really Sharu Garrul who had sent the assassins? Despite his familiarity with the power of the blue stone that had guided them - as evidenced by the blue button in my pocket - it didn't seem to follow. For one thing, our purposes were not yet crossed. For another, it did not seem the proper style for a cryptic, flower-throwing master of elements. I could be dead wrong there, of course, but I expected something more in the nature of a sorcerous duel with that one.

The fields gave way to wilderness as I approached the verge of the forest. Something of twilight had already entered its bright-leafed domain. It did not seem a dense, ancient wood like Arden, however; from the distance I had seen numerous gaps within its higher reaches. The road continued wide and well-kept. I drew my cloak more fully about me as I entered the shadowed coolness. It seemed an easy ride, if it were all to be like this. And I was in no hung. I had too many thoughts that wanted thinking…

If only I had been able to learn more from that strange, nameless entity who had, for a time, controlled Vinta. What her true nature might be, I still had no idea. «Her,» yes. I somehow felt the entity to be more feminine than masculine in nature, despite its having controlled George Hansen and Dan Martinez. Perhaps this was only because I had made love to her as Meg Devlin. Difficult to say. But I had known Gail for some time, and the Lady in the Lake had seemed a real lady…

Enough. I'd decided on my pronoun. Other matters of greater importance were involved. Like, whatever she was, why was she following me about insisting that she wanted to protect me? While I appreciated the sentiment, I still had no insight into her motivation.

But there was something far more important to me than her motivation. Why she saw fit to guard me could remain her own business. The big question was: Against what did she feel I needed protection? She must have had a definite threat in mind, and she had not given me the slightest hint as to what it was.

Was this, then, the enemy? The real enemy? Vinta's adversary?

I tried reviewing everything I knew or had guessed about her.

There is a strange creature who sometimes takes the form of a small blue mist. She is capable of finding her way to me through Shadow. She possesses the power to take control of a human body, completely suppressing its natural ego. She hung around in my vicinity for a number of years without my becoming aware of her. Her earliest incarnation that I know of was as Luke's former girlfriend, Gail.

Why Gail? If she were guarding me, why go around with Luke? Why not become one of the women I'd dated? Why not be Julia? But no. She had decided upon Gail. Was that because Luke was the threat, and she'd wanted to keep a close watch on him? But she'd actually let Luke get away with a few attempts on my life. And then Jasra. She'd admitted that she'd known Jasra was behind the later ones. Why hadn't she simply removed them? She could have taken over Luke's body, stepped in front of a speeding car, drifted away from the remains, then gone and done the same with Jasra. She wasn't afraid to die in a host body. I'd seen her do it twice.

Unless she'd somehow known that all their attempts on my life would fail. Could she have sabotaged the letter bomb? Could she, in some way, have been behind my premonition on the morning of the opened gas jets? And perhaps something else with each of the others? Still, it would seem a lot simpler to go to the source and remove the problem itself. I knew that she had no compunction about killing. She'd ordered the slaying of my final assailant in Death Alley.

What, then?

Two possibilities came to mind immediately. One was that she'd actually come to like Luke and that she'd simply found ways to neutralize him without destroying him. But then I thought of her as Martinez, and it fell apart. She'd actually been shooting that night in Santa Fe. Okay. Then there was the other possibility: Luke was not the real threat, and she'd liked him enough to let him go on living once he'd quit the April 30 games and she saw that we'd gotten friendly. Something happened in New Mexico that made her change her mind. As to what it was, I had no idea. She had followed me to New York, then, and been George Hansen and Meg Devlin in quick succession. Luke was, by that time, out of the picture, following his disappearing act on the mountain. He no longer represented a threat, yet she was almost frantic in her efforts to get in touch with me. Was something else impending? The real threat?

I racked my brains, but I could not figure what that threat might have been. Was I following a completely false trail with this line of reasoning? She certainly was not omniscient. Her reason for spiriting me to Arbor

House was as much to pump me for information as it was to remove me from the scene of the attack. And some of the things she'd wanted to know were as interesting as some of the things she knew.

My mind did a backward flip. What was the first question she had asked me?

Landing adroitly on my mental feet, back at Bill Roth's place, I heard the question several times. As George Hansen she had asked it casually and I had lied; as a voice on the telephone she had asked it and been denied; as Meg Devlin, in bed, she had finally gotten me to answer it honestly: What was your mother's name?

When I'd told her that my mother was named Dara she had finally begun speaking freely. She had warned me against Luke. It seemed that she might have been willing to tell me more then, too, save that the arrival of the real Meg's husband had cut short our conversation.

To what was this the key? It placed my origin in the Courts of Chaos, to which she had at no time referred. Yet it had to be important, somehow.

I had a feeling that I already had the answer but that I would be unable to realize it until I had formulated the proper question.

Enough. I could go no further. Knowing that she was aware of my connection with the Courts still told me nothing. She was also obviously aware of my connection with Amber, and I could not see how that figured in the pattern of events either.

So I would leave it at that point and come back to it later. I had plenty of other things to think about. At least, I now had lots of new questions to ask her the next time we met, and I was certain that we would meet again.

Then something else occurred to me. If she'd done any real protecting of me at all, it had taken place offstage. She had given me a lot of information, which I thought was probably correct but which I had had no opportunity to verify. From her phoning and lurking back in New York to her killing of my one possible source of information in Death Alley, she had really been more a bother than a help. It was conceivable that she could actually show up and encumber me with aid again, at exactly the wrong moment.

So instead of working on my opening argument for Random, I spent the next hour or so considering the nature of a being capable of moving into a person and taking over the controls. There seemed only a certain number of ways it might be done, and I narrowed the field quickly, considering what I knew of her nature, by means of the technical exercises my uncle had taught me. When I thought I had it worked out I backtracked and mused over the forces that would have to be involved.

From the forces I worked my way through the tonic vibrations of their aspects. The use of raw power, while flashy, is wasteful and very fatiguing for the operator, not to mention aesthetically barbaric. Better to be prepared.

I lined up the spoken signatures and edited them into a spell. Suhuy would probably have gotten it down even shorter, but there is a point of diminishing returns on these things, and I had mine figured to where it should work if my main guesses were correct. So I collated it and assembled it. It was fairly long - too long to rattle off in its entirety if I were in the hurry I probably would be. Studying it, I saw that three linchpins would probably hold it, though four would be better.

I summoned the Logrus and extended my tongue into its moving pattern. Then I spoke the spell, slowly and clearly, leaving out the four key words I had chosen to omit. The woods grew absolutely still about me as the words rang out. The spell hung before me like a crippled butterfly of sound and color, trapped within the synesthetic web of my personal vision of the Logrus, to come again when I summoned it, to be released when I uttered the four omitted words.

I banished the vision and felt my tongue relax. Now she was not the only one capable of troublesome surprises.

I halted for a drink of water. The sky had grown darker and the small noises of the forest returned. I wondered whether Fiona or Bleys had been in touch, and how Bill was doing back in town. I listened to the rattling of branches. Suddenly, I had the feeling I was being watched - not the cold scrutiny of a Trump touch, but simply the sensation that there was a pair of eyes fixed upon me. I shivered. All those thoughts about enemies…

I loosened my blade and rode on. The night was young, and there were more miles ahead than behind.

Riding through the evening I kept alert, but I neither heard nor saw anything untoward. Had I been wrong about Jasra, Sharu or even Luke? And was there a party of assassins at my back right now? Periodically, I drew rein and sat listening for a short while. But I heard nothing unusual on these occasions, nothing that could be taken as sounds of pursuit. I became acutely aware of the blue button in my pocket. Was it acting as a beacon for some sinister sending of the wizard's? I was loath to get rid of the thing because I could foresee a number of possible uses for it. Besides, if it had already attuned me - which it probably had - I could see no benefit in disposing of it now. I would secrete it someplace safe before I made my attempt to lose its vibes. Until such a time, I could see no percentage in doing anything else with it.

The sky continued to darken, and a number of stars had put in hesitant appearances. Smoke and I slowed even more in our course, but the road remained good and its pale surface stayed sufficiently visible to present no hazard. I heard the call of an owl from off to the right and moments later saw its dark shape rush at middle height among the trees. It would have been a pleasant night to be riding if I were not creating my own ghosts and haunting myself with them. I love the smells of autumn and the forest, and I resolved to bum a few leaves in my campfire later on for that pungency unlike any other I know.

The air was clean and cool. Hoof sounds, our breathing and the wind seemed to be the only noises in the neighborhood until we flushed a deer a bit later and heard the diminishing crashes of its retreat for some time afterward. We crossed a small but sturdy wooden bridge a little later, but no trolls were taking tolls. The road took a turn upward, and we wound our way slowly but steadily to a higher elevation. Now there were numerous stars visible through the weave of the branches, but no clouds that I could see. The deciduous trees grew barer as we gained a bit of altitude, and more evergreens began to occur. I felt the breezes more strongly now.

I began pausing more frequently, to rest Smoke, to listen, to nibble at my supplies. I resolved to keep going at least until moonrise - which I tried to calculate from its occurrence the other night, following my departure from Amber. If I made it to that point before I camped, the rest of the ride into Amber tomorrow morning would be pretty easy.

Frakir pulsed once, lightly, upon my wrist. But hell, that had often happened in traffic when I'd cut someone off. A hungry fox could have just passed, regarded me and wished itself a bear. Still, I waited there longer than I had intended, prepared for an attack and trying not to appear so.

But nothing happened, the warning was not repeated and after a time I rode on. I returned to my idea for putting the screws to Luke - and, for that matter, Jasra. I couldn't call it a plan yet, because it was lacking in almost all particulars. The more I thought of it, the crazier it seemed. For one thing, it was extremely tempting, as it held the potential for resolving a lot of problems. I wondered then why I had never created a Trump for Bill Roth. I felt a sudden need to talk to a good attorney. I might well want someone to argue my case before this was done. Too dark now to do any drawing, though… and not really necessary yet. Actually, I just wanted to talk with him, bring him up to date, get the views of someone not directly involved.

Frakir issued no further warnings during the next hour. We commenced a slightly downward course then, soon passing into a somewhat more sheltered area where the smell of pines came heavy. I mused on - about wizards and flowers, Ghostwheel and his problems, and the name of the entity who had recently occupied Vinta. There were lots of other musings, too, some of which went a long way back…

Many stops later, with a bit of moonlight trickling through the branches behind me, I decided to call it quits and look for a place to bed down. I gave Smoke a brief drink at the next stream. About a quarter hour afterward, I thought I glimpsed what might be a promising spot off to the right, so I left the road and headed that way.

It turned out not to be as good a place as I'd thought, and I continued farther into the wood until I came across a small clear area that seemed adequate. I dismounted, unsaddled Smoke and tethered him, rubbed him down with his blanket and gave him something to eat. Then I scraped clear a small area of ground with my blade, dug a pit at its center and built a fire there. I used a spell to ignite it because I was feeling lazy, and I threw on several clumps of leaves as I recalled my earlier reflections.

I seated myself on my cloak, my back against the bole of a middle-sized tree, and ate a cheese sandwich and sipped water while I worked up the ambition to pull my boots off. My blade lay upon the ground at my side.

My muscles began to unkink. The smell of the fire was a nostalgic thing. I toasted my next sandwich over it.

I sat and thought of nothing for a long while. Gradually, in barely perceptible stages, I felt the gentle disengagements lassitude brings to the extremities. I had meant to gather firewood before I took my ease. But I didn't really need it. It wasn't all that cold. I'd wanted the fire mainly for company.

However… I dragged myself to my feet and moved off into the woods. I did a long, slow reconnaissance about the area once I got moving. Though to be honest, my main reason for getting up had been to go arid relieve myself. I halted in my circuit when I thought that I detected a small flicker of light far off to the northeast. Another campfire? Moonlight on water? A torch? There had been only a glimpse and I could not locate it again, though I moved my head about, retraced my most recent few paces and even struck off a small distance in that direction.

But I did not wish to chase after some will-o'-the-wisp and spend my night beating the bushes. I checked various lines of sight back to my camp. My small fire was barely visible even from this distance. I circled my camp, entered and sprawled again. The fire was already dying and I decided to let it burn out. I wrapped my cloak about me and listened to the soft sounds of the wind.

I fell asleep quickly. For how long I slept, I do not know. There were no dreams that I can recall.

I was awakened by Frakir's frantic pulsing. I opened my eyes the barest slits and tossed, as if in sleep, so that my right hand fell near the haft of my blade. I maintained my slow breathing pattern. I heard and felt that the wind had risen, and I saw that it had fanned the embers to the point where my fire flared once again. I saw no one before me, however. I strained my hearing after any sounds, but all I heard was the wind and the popping of the fire.

It seemed as foolish to spring to my feet into a guard position when I did not know from which direction the danger was approaching as it did to remain a target. On the other hand, I had intentionally cast my cloak so that I lay with a large, low-limbed pine at my back. It would have been very difficult for someone to have approached me from the rear, let alone to have done so quietly. So it did not seem I was in danger of an imminent attack from that direction.

I turned my head slightly and studied Smoke, who had begun to seem a little uneasy. Frakir continued her now distracting warning till I willed her to be still.

Smoke was twitching his ears and moving his head about, nostrils dilated. As I watched, I saw that his attention seemed directed toward my right. He began edging his way across the camp, his long tether snaking behind him.

I heard a sound then, beyond the noise of Smoke's retreat, as of something advancing from the right. It was not repeated for a time, and then I heard it again. It was not a footfall, but a sound as of a body brushing against a branch which suddenly issued a weak protest.

I visualized the disposition of trees and shrubs in that direction and decided to let the lurker draw nearer before I made my move. I dismissed the notion of summoning the Logrus and preparing a magical attack. It would take a bit more time than I thought I had remaining. Also, from Smoke's behavior and from what I had heard, it seemed that there was only a single individual approaching. I resolved, though, to lay in a decent supply of spells the first chance I got, both offensive and defensive, on the order of the one I had primed against my guardian entity. The trouble is that it can take several days of solitude to work a really decent array of them out properly, enact them and rehearse their releases to the point where you can spring them at a moment's notice - and then they have a tendency to start decaying after a week or so. Sometimes they last longer and sometimes less long, depending both on the amount of energy you're willing to invest in them and on the magical climate of the particular shadow in which you're functioning. It's a lot of bother unless you're sure you're going to need them within a certain period of time. On the other hand, a good sorcerer should have one attack, one defense and one escape spell hanging around at all times. But I'm generally somewhat lazy, not to mention pretty easygoing, and I didn't see any need for that sort of setup until recently. And recently, I hadn't had much time to be about it.

So any use I might make of the Logrus now, were I to summon it and situate myself within its ambit, would pretty much amount to blasting away with raw power - which is very draining on the operator.

Let him come a little nearer, that's all, and it would be cold steel and a strangling cord that he would face.

I could feel the presence advancing now, hear the soft stirring of pine needles. A few more feet, enemy… Come on. That's all I need. Come into range…

He halted. I could hear a steady, soft breathing.

Then, «You must be aware of me by now, Magus,» came a low whisper, «for we all have our little tricks, and I know the source of yours.»

«Who are you?» I asked, as I clasped the haft of my blade and rolled into a crouch, facing the darkness, the point of my weapon describing a small circle.

«I am the enemy,» was the reply. «The one you thought would never come.

Chapter 9

Power.

I remembered the day I had stood atop a rocky prominence. Fiona - dressed in lavender, belted with silverstood in a higher place before me and somewhat to my right. She held a silver mirror in her right hand, and she looked downward through the haze to the place where the great tree towered. There was a total stillness about us, and even our own small sounds came muffled. The upper portions of the tree disappeared into a low-hanging fog bank. The light that filtered through limned it starkly against another pile of fog which hung at its back, rising to join with the one overhead. A bright, seemingly self-illuminated line was etched into the ground near the base of the tree, curving off to vanish within the fog. Far to my left, a brief arc of a similar intensity was also visible, emerging from and returning to the billowing white wall.

«What is it, Fiona?» I asked. «Why did you bring me to this place?»

«You've heard of it» she replied. «I wanted you to see it.»

I shook my head. «I've never heard of it. I've no idea what I'm looking at.

«Come,» she said, and she began to descend.

She disdained my hand, moving quickly and gracefully, and we came down from the rocks and moved nearer to the tree. There was something vaguely familiar there, but I could not place it.

«From your father,» she said at last. «He spent a long time telling you his story. Surely he did not omit this part.»

I halted as understanding presented itself, tentatively at first.

«That tree,» I said.

«Corwin planted his staff when he commenced the creation of the new Pattern,» she said. «It was fresh. It took root.»

I seemed to feel a faint vibration in the ground.

Fiona turned her back on the prospect, raised the mirror she carried and angled it so that she regarded the scene over her right shoulder.

«Yes,» she said, after several moments. Then she extended the mirror to me. «Take a look,» she told me, «as I just did.»

I accepted it, held it, adjusted it and stared.

The view in the minor was not the same as that which had presented itself to my unaided scrutiny. I was able to see beyond the tree now, through the fog, to discern most of the strange Pattern which twisted its bright way about the ground, working its passages inward to its off-center terminus, the only spot still concealed by an unmoving tower of white, within which tiny lights like stars seemed to bum.

«It doesn't look like the Pattern back in Amber,» I said.

«No,» she answered. «Is it anything like the Logrus?»

«Not really. The Logrus actually alters itself somewhat, constantly. Still, it's more angular, whereas this is mostly curves and bends.»

I studied it a little longer, then returned her looking glass.

«Interesting spell on the mirror,» I commented, for I had been studying this also, while I held it.

«And much more difficult than you'd think,» she responded, «for there's more than fog in there. Watch.»

She advanced to the beginning of the Pattern, near the great tree, where she moved as if to set her foot upon the bright trail. Before it arrived, however, a small electrical discharge crackled upward and made contact with her shoe. She jerked her foot back quickly.

«It rejects me,» she said. «I can't set foot on it. Try it.»

There was something in her gaze I did not like, but I moved forward to where she had been standing.

«Why couldn't your mirror penetrate all the way to the center of the thing?» I asked suddenly.

«The resistance seems to go up the farther you go in. It is greatest there,» she replied. «But as to why,I do not know.»

I hesitated a moment longer. «Has anyone tried it other than yourself?»

«I brought Bleys here,» she answered. «It rejected him too.»

«And he's the only other one who's seen it?»

«No, I brought Random. But he declined to try. Said he didn't care to screw around with it right then.»

«Prudent, perhaps. Was he wearing the Jewel at the time?»

«No. Why?»

«Just curious.»

«See what it does for you.»

«All right.»

I raised my right foot and lowered it slowly toward the line. About a foot above it, I stopped.

«Something seems to be holding me back,» I said.

«Strange. There is no electrical discharge for you.»

«Small blessing,» I responded, and I pushed my foot a couple of inches farther downward. Finally, I sighed. «Nope, Fi. I can't.»

I read the disappointment in her features.

«I was hoping,» she said as I drew back, «that someone other than Corwin might be able to walk it. His son seemed the most likely choice.»

«Why is it so important that someone walk it? Just because it's there?»

«I think it's a menace,» she said. «It has to be explored and dealt with.»

«A menace? Why?»

«Amber and Chaos are the two poles of existence, as we understand it,» she said, «housing as they do the Pattern and the Logrus. For ages there has been something of an equilibrium between them. Now, I believe, this bastard Pattern of your father's is undermining their balance.»

«In what fashion?»

«There have always been wavelike exchanges between Amber and Chaos. This seems to be setting up some interference.»

«It sounds more like tossing an extra ice cube into a drink,» I said. «It should settle down after a while.»

She shook her head. «Things are not settling. There have been far more shadow-storms since this thing was created. They rend the fabric of Shadow. They affect the nature of reality itself.»

«No good,» I said. «Another event a lot more important along these lines occurred at the same time. The original Pattern in Amber was damaged and Oberon repaired it. The wave of Chaos which came out of that swept through all of Shadow. Everything was affected. But the Pattern held and things settled again. I'd be more inclined to think of all those extra shadow-storms as being in the nature of aftershocks.»

«It's a good argument,» she said. «But what if it's wrong?»

«I don't think it is.»

«Merle, there's some kind of power here, an immense amount of power.»

«I don't doubt it.»

«It has always been our way to keep an eye on power, to try to understand it, to control it. Because one day it might become a threat. Did Corwin tell you anything, anything at all, as to exactly what this represents and how we might get a handle on it?»

«No,» I said. «Nothing beyond the fact that he made it in a hurry to replace the old one, which he'd figured Oberon might not have succeeded in repairing.»

«If only we could find him.»

«There still hasn't been any word?»

«Droppa claims that he saw him at the Sands, back on the shadow Earth you both favor. He said he was in the company of an attractive woman, and they were both having a drink and listening to a music group. He waved and headed toward them through a crowd, and he thought that Corwin saw him. When he got to their table, though, they were gone.»

«That's all?»

«That's all.»

«That's not much.»

«I know. If he's the only one who can walk this damned thing, though, and if it is a menace, we could be in big trouble one day.»

«I think you're being an alarmist, Aunty.»

«I hope you're right, Merle. Come on, I'll take you home.»

I studied the place once more, for details as well as feeling, because I wanted to be able to construct a Trump for it. I never told anyone that there had been no resistance as I had lowered my foot, because once you set foot into the Pattern or the Logrus there is no fuming back. You either proceed to the end or are destroyed by it. And as much as I love mysteries, my break was at its end and I had to get back to class.

Power.

We were together in a wood within the Black Zone, that area of Shadow with which Chaos holds commerce. We were hunting zhind, which are horned, short, black, fierce and carnivorous. I do not much like hunting because I do not much like killing things I don't really have to. However, it was Jurt's idea, and since it was possibly also my last chance to work some reconciliation with my brother before I departed, I had decided to take him up on the offer. Neither of us was that great an archer, and zhind are pretty fast. So with any luck at all nothing would get dead and we'd have some chance to talk and perhaps come away on better terms at the end of the hunt.

On one occasion when we'd lost the trail and were resting, we talked for a long time about archery, court politics, Shadow and the weather. He had been much more civil to me of late, which I took for a good sign. He'd let his hair grow in such a fashion as to cover the area of his missing left ear. Ears are hard to regenerate. We did not speak of our duel, or of the argument that had led up to it. Because I would soon be out of his life, I felt perhaps he wished to close this chapter of his existence in a relatively friendly fashion, with both of us going our ways with a memory we could feel good about. I was half right, anyway.

Later, when we had halted for a cold hail lunch, he asked me, «So, what does it feel like?»

«What?» I said.

«The power,» he answered. «The Logrus power - to walk in Shadow, to work with a higher order of magic than the mundane.»

I didn't really want to go into detail, because I knew he'd prepared himself to traverse the Logrus on three different occasions and had backed down at the last moment each time, when he'd looked into it. Perhaps the skeletons of failures that Suhuy keeps around had troubled him also. I don't think Jurt was aware that I knew about the last two times he'd changed his mind. So I decided to downplay my accomplishment.

«Oh, you don't really feel any different,» I said, «until you're actually using it. Then it's hard to describe.»

«I'm thinking of doing it soon myself,» he said. «It would be good to see something of Shadow, maybe even find a kingdom for myself somewhere. Can you give me any advice?»

I nodded. «Don't look back,» I said. «Don't stop to think. Just keep going.»

He laughed. «Sounds like orders to an army,» he said.

«I suppose there is a similarity.»

He laughed again. «Let's go kill us a zhind,» he said.

That afternoon, we lost a trail in a thicket full of fallen branches. We'd heard the zhind crash through it, but it was not immediately apparent which way it had gone. I had my back to Jurt and was facing the forward edge of the place, searching for some sign, when Frakir constricted tightly about my wrist, then came loose and fell to the ground.

I bent over to retrieve her, wondering what had happened, when I heard a thank from overhead. Glancing upward, I saw an arrow protruding from the bole of the tree before me. Its height above the ground was such that had I remained standing it would have entered my back.

I tamed quickly toward Jurt, not even straightening from my crouch. He was fitting another arrow to his bow.

He said, «Don't look back. Don't stop to think. Just keep going,» and he laughed.

I dove toward him as he raised the weapon. A better archer would probably have killed me. I think when I moved he panicked and released the arrow prematurely, though, because it caught in the side of my leather vest and I didn't feel any pain.

I clipped him above the knees, and he dropped the bow as he fell over backward. He drew his hunting knife, rolled to the side and swung the weapon toward my throat. I caught his wrist with my left hand and was cast onto my back by the force of his momentum. I struck at his face with my right fist while holding the blade away from me. He blocked the punch and kneed me in the balls.

The point of the blade dropped to within inches of my throat as this blow collapsed a big piece of my resistance. Still aching, I was able to turn my hip to prevent another ball-buster, simultaneous with casting my right forearm beneath his wrist and cutting my hand in the process. Then I pushed with my right, pulled with my left and rolled to the left with the force of the turn. His arm was jerked free from my still-weakened grasp, and he rolled off to the side and I tried to recover - and then I heard him scream.

Coming up onto my knees, I saw that he lay upon his left side where he had come to a stop and the knife was several feet beyond him, caught in a tangle of broken branches. Both hands were raised to his face, and his cries were wordless, animal-like bleats.

I made my way over to him to see what had happened, with Frakir held ready to wrap about his throat in case it were some sort of trick he was playing.

But it was not. When I reached him I saw that a sharp limb of a fallen branch had pierced his right eye. There was blood on his cheek and the side of his nose.

«Stop jerking around!» I said. «You'll make it worse. Let me get it out.»

«Keep your damn hands off me!» he cried.

Then, clenching his teeth and grimacing horribly, he caught hold of the limb with his right hand and drew his head back. I had to look away. He made a whimpering noise several moments later and collapsed, unconscious. I ripped off my left shirt sleeve, tore a strip from it, folded it into a pad and placed it over his damaged eye. With another strip, I tied it into place there. Frakir found her way back about my wrist, as usual.

Then I dug out the Trump that would take us home and raised him in my arms. Mom wasn't going to like this.

Power.

It was a Saturday. Luke and I had been hang gliding all morning. Then we met Julia and Gail for lunch, and afterward we took the Starburst out and sailed all afternoon. Later, we'd hit the bar and grill at the marina where I bought the beers while we waited for steaks, because Luke had slammed my right arm flat against the tabletop when we'd wrist wrestled to see who paid for drinks.

Someone at the next table said, «If I had a million dollars, tax free, I'd…» and Julia had laughed as she listened.

«What's funny?» I asked her.

«His wish list,» she said. «I'd want a closet full of designer dresses and some elegant jewelry to go with them. Put the closet in a really nice house, and put the house someplace where I'd be important…»

Luke smiled. «I detect a shift from money to power,» he said.

«Maybe so,» she replied. «But what's the difference, really?»

«Money buys things,» Luke said. «Power makes things happen. If you ever have a choice, take the power.»

Gail's usual faint smile had faded, and she wore a very serious expression.

«I don't believe power should be an end in itself,» she said. «One has it only to use it in certain ways.»

Julia laughed. «What's wrong with a power trip?» she asked. «It sounds like fun to me.»

«Only till you run into a greater power,» Luke said.

«Then you have to think big,» Julia answered.

«That's not right,» Gail said. «One has duties and they come first.»

Luke was studying her now, and he nodded.

«You can keep morality out of it,» Julia said.

«No, you can't,» Luke responded.

«I disagree,» she said.

Luke shrugged.

«She's right,» Gail said suddenly. «I don't see that duty and morality are the same thing.»

«Well, if you've got a duty,» Luke said, «something you absolutely must do - a matter of honor, say - then that becomes your morality.»

Julia looked at Luke, looked at Gail. «Does that mean we just agreed on something?» she asked.

«No,» Luke said, «I don't think so.»

Gail took a drink. «You're talking about a personal code that need not have anything to do with conventional morality.»

«Right,» Luke said.

«Then it's not really morality. You're just talking duty,» she said.

«You're right on the duty,» Luke answered. «But it's still morality.»

«Morality is the values of a civilization» she said.

«There is no such thing as civilization,» Luke replied. «The word just means the art of living in cities.»

«All right, then. Of a culture,» she said.

«Cultural values are relative things,» Luke said, smiling, «and mine say I'm right.»

«Where do yours come from?» Gail asked, studying him carefully.

«Let's keep this pure and philosophical, huh?» he said.

«Then maybe we should drop the term entirely,» Gail said, «and just stick with duty.»

«What happened to power?» Julia asked.

«It's in there somewhere,» I said.

Suddenly Gail looked perplexed, as if our discussion were not something which had been repeated a thousand times in different forms, as if it had actually given rise to some new turn of thought.

«If they are two different things,» she said slowly, «which one is more important?

«They're not» Luke said. «They're the same.»

«I don't think so,» Julia told him. «But duties tend to be clear-cut, and it sounds as if you can choose your own morality. So if I had to have one I'd go with the morality.»

«I like things that are clear-cut,» Gail said.

Luke chugged his beer, belched lightly. «Shit!» he said. «Philosophy class isn't till Tuesday. This is the weekend. Who gets the next round, Merle?»

I placed my left elbow on the tabletop and opened my hand.

While we pushed together, the tension building and building between us, he said through clenched teeth, «I was right, wasn't I?»

«You were right,» I said, just before I forced his arm all the way down.

Power.

I removed my mail from the little locked box in the hallway and carried it upstairs to my apartment. There were two bills, some circulars and something thick and first class without a return address on it.

I closed the door behind me, pocketed my keys and dropped my briefcase onto a nearby chair. I had started toward the sofa when the telephone in the kitchen rang.

Tossing the mail toward the coffee table, I turned and started for the kitchen. The blast that occurred behind me might or might not have been strong enough to knock me over. I don't know, because I dove forward of my own volition as soon as it occurred. I hit my head on the leg of the kitchen table. It dazed me somewhat, but I was otherwise undamaged. All the damage was in the other room. By the time I got to my feet the phone had stopped ringing.

I already knew there were lots of easier ways to dispose of junk mail, but I wondered for a long time afterward who it was that had been on the telephone.

I sometimes remembered the first of the series, too, the truck that had come rushing toward me. I had only caught a glimpse of the driver's face before I'd moved - inert, he was completely expressionless, as if he were dead, hypnotized, drugged or somehow possessed. Choose any of the above, I decided, and maybe more than one.

And then there was the night of the muggers. They had attacked me without a word. When it was all over and I was heading away, I had glanced back once. I thought I'd glimpsed a shadowy figure draw back into a doorway up the street - a smart precaution, I'd say, in light of what had been going on. But of course it could have been someone connected with the attack, too. I was torn. The person was too far off to have been able to give a good description of me. If I went back and it turned out to be an innocent bystander, there would then be a witness capable of identifying me. Not that I didn't think it was an open-and-shut case of selfdefense, but there'd be a lot of hassle. So I said the hell with it, and I walked on. Another interesting April 30.

The day of the rifle. There had been two shots as I'd hurried down the street. They'd both missed me before I'd realized what was going on, chipping brickbats From the side of the building to my left. There was no third shot, but there was a thud and a splintering sound from the building across the street. A third-floor window stood wide open.

I hurried over. It was an old apartment house and the front door was locked, but I didn't slow down for niceties. I located the stair and mounted it. When I came to what I thought was the proper room, I decided to try the door the old-fashioned way and it worked. It was unlocked.

I stood to the side and pushed it open and saw that the place was unfurnished and empty. Unoccupied, too, it seemed. Could I have been wrong? But then I saw that the window facing the street stood wide and I saw what lay upon the floor. I entered and closed the door behind me.

A broken rifle lay in the comer. From markings on the stock I guessed that it had been swung with great force against a nearby radiator before it had been cast aside. Then I saw something else on the floor, something wet and red. Not much. Just a few drops.

I searched the place quickly. It was small. The one window in its single bedroom also stood open and I went to it. There was a fire escape beyond it, and I decided that it might be a good way for me to make my exit, too.

There were a few more drops of blood on the black metal, but that was it. No one was in sight below, or in either direction.

Power.

To kill. To preserve. Luke, Jasra, Gail. Who was responsible for what?

The more I thought of it, the more it seemed possible that there might have been a telephone call on the morning of the open gas jets, too. Could that be what had roused me to an awareness of danger? Each time I thought of these matters there seemed to be a slight shifting of emphasis. Things stood in a different light. According to Luke and the pseudo Vinta, I was not in great danger in the later episodes, but it seemed that any of those things could have taken me out. Who was I to blame? The perpetrator? Or the savior who barely saved? And who was which? I remembered how my father's story had been complicated by that damned auto accident which played like Last Year at Marienbad - though his had seemed simple compared to everything that was coming down on me. At least he knew what he had to do most of the time. Could I be the inheritor of a family curse involving complicated plotting?

Power.

I remembered Uncle Suhuy's final lesson. He had spent some time following my completion of the Logrus in teaching me things I could not have learned before then. There came a time when I thought I was finished. I had been confirmed in the Art and dismissed. It seemed I had covered all the basics and anything more would be mere elaboration. I began making preparations for my journey to the shadow Earth. Then one morning Suhuy sent for me. I assumed that he just wanted to say good-bye and give me a few friendly words of advice.

His hair is white, he is somewhat stooped and there are days when he carries a staff. This was one of them. He had on his yellow caftan, which I had always thought of as a working garment rather than a social one.

«Are you ready for a short trip?» he asked me.

«Actually, it's going to be a long one,» I said. «But I'm almost ready.»

«No,» he said. «That was not the journey I meant.»

«Oh. You mean you want to go somewhere right now?»

«Come,» he said.

So I followed him, and the shadows parted before us. We moved through increasing bleakness, passing at last into places that bore no sign of life whatsoever. Dark, sterile rock lay all about us, stark in the brassy light of a dim and ancient sun. This final place was chill and dry, and when we halted and I looked about, I shivered.

I waited, to see what he had in mind. But it was a long while before he spoke. He seemed oblivious of my presence for a time, simply staring out across the bleak landscape.

Finally, «I have taught you the ways of Shadow,» he said slowly, «and the composition of spells and their working.»

I said nothing. His statement did not seem to require a reply.

«So you know something of the ways of power,» he continued. «You draw it from the Sign of Chaos, the Logrus, and you invest it in various ways.»

He glanced at me at last, and I nodded.

«I understand that those who bear the Pattern, the Sign of Order, may do similar things in ways that may or may not be similar,» he went on. «I do not know for certain, for I am not an initiate of the Pattern. I doubt the spirit could stand the strain of knowing the ways of both. But you should understand that there is another way of power, antithetical to our own.

«I understand,» I said, for he seemed to be expecting an answer.

«But you have a resource available to you,» he said, «which those of Amber do not. Watch!»

His final word did not mean that I should simply observe as he leaned his staff against the side of a boulder and raised his hands before him. It meant that I should have the Logrus before me so I could see what he was doing at that level. So I summoned my vision and watched him through it.

Now the vision that hung before him seemed a continuation of my own, stretched and twisting. I saw and felt it as he joined his hands with it and extended a pair of its jagged limbs outward across the distance to touch upon a boulder that lay downhill of us.

«Enter the Logrus now yourself,» he said, «remaining passive. Stay with me through what I am about to do. Do not, at any time, attempt to interfere.»

«I understand,» I said.

I moved my hands into my vision, shifting them about, feeling after congruity, until they became a part of it.

«Good,» he said, when I had settled them into place. «Now all you need do is observe, on all levels.»

Something pulsed along the limbs he controlled, passing down to the boulder. I was not prepared for what came after.

The image of the Logrus turned black before me, becoming a seething blot of inky turmoil. An awful feeling of disruptive power surged through me, an enormous destructive force that threatened to overwhelm me, to carry me into the blissful nothingness of ultimate disorder. A part of me seemed to desire this, while another part was screaming wordlessly for it to cease. But Suhuy maintained control of the phenomenon, and I could see how he was doing it, just as I had seen how he had brought it into being in the first place.

The boulder became one with the turmoil, joined it and was gone. There was no explosion, no implosion, only the sensation of great cold winds and cacophonous sounds. Then my uncle moved his hands slowly apart, and the lines of seething blackness followed them, flowing out in both directions from that area of chaos which had been the boulder, producing a long dark trench wherein I beheld the paradox of both nothingness and activity.

Then he stood still, arresting it at that point. Moments later, he spoke. «I could simply release it,» he stated, «letting it run wild. Or I could give it a direction and then release it.»

As he did not continue, I asked, «What would happen then? Would it simply continue until it had devastated the entire shadow?»

«No,» he replied. «There are limiting factors. The resistance of Order to Chaos would build as it extended itself. There would come a point of containment.»

«And if you remained as you are, and kept summoning more?»

«One would do a great deal of damage.»

«And if we combined our efforts?»

«More extensive damage. But that is not the lesson I had in mind. I will remain passive now while you control it.»

So I took over the Sign of the Logrus and ran the line of disruption back upon itself in a great circle, like a dark moat surrounding us.

«Banish it now,» he said, and I did.

Still, the winds and the sounds continued to rage, and I could not see beyond the dark wall which seemed to be advancing slowly upon us from all sides.

«Obviously, the limiting factor has yet to be achieved,» I observed.

He chuckled. «You're right. Even though you stopped, you exceeded a certain critical limit, so that it is now running wild.»

«Oh,» I said. «How long till those natural limitations you mentioned dampen it?»

«Sometime after it has completely annihilated the area on which we stand,» he said.

«It is receding in all directions as well as heading this way?»

«Yes.»

«Interesting. What is the critical mass?»

«I'll have to show you. But we'd better find a new place first. This one is going away. Take my hand.»

I did, and he conducted me to another shadow. This time I summoned the Chaos and conducted the operations while he observed. This time I did not let it run wild.

When I had finished and I stood, shaken, staring into a small crater I had caused, he placed his hand on my shoulder and told me, «As you knew in theory, that is the ultimate power behind your spells. Chaos itself. To work with it directly is dangerous. But, as you have seen, it can be done. Now you know it, your training is complete.»

It was more than impressive. It was awesome. And for most situations I could visualize it was rather like using nukes for skeet shooting. Offhand, I couldn't think of any circumstances under which I would care to employ the technique, until Victor Melman really pissed me off.

Power, in its many shapes, varieties, sizes and styles, continues to fascinate me. It has been so much a part of my life for so long that I feel very familiar with it, though I doubt that I will ever understand it fully.

Chapter 10

«It's about time,» I said, to whatever lurked in the shadows. The sound that followed was not human. It was a low snarl. I wondered what manner of beast I confronted. I was certain an attack was imminent, but it did not come. Instead the growl died down, and whatever it was spoke again.

«Feel your fear,» came the whisper.

«Feel your own,» I said, «while you still can.»

The sounds of its breathing came heavy. The flames danced at my back. Smoke had drawn as far away across the campsite as his lengthy tether permitted.

«I could have killed you while you slept,» it said slowly.

«Foolish of you not to,» I said. «It will cost you.»

«I want to look at you, Merlin,» it stated. «I want to see you puzzled. I want to see your fear. I want to see your anguish before I see your blood.»

«Then I take it this is a personal rather than a business matter?»

There came a strange noise which it took me several moments to interpret as an inhuman throat trying to manage a chuckle.

Then, «Let us say that, magician,» it responded. «Summon your Sign and your concentration will waver. I will know it and will rend you before you can employ it.»

«Kind of you to warn me.»

«I just wanted to foreclose that option in your thinking. The thing wound about your left wrist will not help you in time either.»

«You have good vision.»

«In these matters, yes.»

«You wish perhaps to discuss the philosophy of revenge with me now?»

«I am waiting for you to break and do something foolish, to increase my pleasure. I have limited your actions to the physical, so you are doomed.»

«Keep waiting, then,» I said.

There was a sound of movement within the brush as something drew nearer. I still could not see it, though. I took a step to my left then, to allow firelight to reach that darkened area. At that, something shone, low. The light was reflected, yellow, from a single glaring eye.

I lowered the point of my weapon, directing it toward the eye. What the hell. Every creature I know of tries to protect its eyes.

«Banzai!» I cried, as I lunged. The conversation seemed to have stagnated, and I was anxious to get on to other matters.

It rose instantly and with great power and speed rushed toward me, avoiding my thrust. It was a large, black, lop-eared wolf, and it slipped past a frantic slash I managed and went straight for my throat.

My left forearm came up automatically and I thrust it forward into the open jaws. At the same time, I brought the hilt of my blade across and slammed it against the side of its head. At this, the clamping force of the bite loosened even as I was home over backward, but the grip remained, penetrating shirt and flesh. And I was turning and pulling before I hit the ground, wanting to land on top, knowing I wouldn't.

I landed on my left side, attempting to continue the roll, and added another belt of the pommel to the side of the beast's skull. It was then that fortune favored me, for a change, when I realized that we lay near the lip of my fire pit and were still turning in that direction. I dropped my weapon and sought its throat with my right hand. It was heavily muscled, and there was no chance of crushing the windpipe in time. But that was not what I was after.

My hand went up high and back beneath the lower jaw, where I commenced squeezing with all my strength. I scrabbled with my feet until I found purchase and then pushed with my legs as well as my arms. Our movement continued the short distance necessary to push its snarling head back into the fire.

For a moment nothing happened save the steady trickle of blood from my forearm into its mouth and out again. The grip of its jaws was still strong and painful.

Seconds later, my arm was released as the fur of its neck and head caught fire and it struggled to draw away from the flames. I was thrust aside as it rose and pulled free, an ear-piercing howl rising from its throat. I rolled to my knees and raised my hands, but it did not come at me again. Instead, it rushed past me into the woods in the opposite direction from which it had come.

I snatched up my blade and took off after it. No time to pause and pull on my boots; I was able to shapeshift the soles of my feet a bit to toughen them against the litter and irregularity of the forest floor. My adversary was still in sight, for its head still smoldered; though I might have been able to follow just from the howling, which was almost continuous. And strangely, the tone and character of the howls was changing, sounding more and more like human cries and less like the complaint of a wolf. Strangely, too, the beast was fleeing with something less than the speed and guile I would have expected from one of its kind. I heard it crashing through the shrubbery and running into trees. On several of these latter occasions, it even emitted sounds that seemed to bear the pattern of human cursing. So I was able to stay closer to it than I had any reason to expect, even gaining on it somewhat after the first few minutes.

Then, suddenly, I realized its apparent destination. I saw again that pale light I had noted earlier - brighter now and its source larger, as we moved toward it. Roughly rectangular in shape, I judged it as being eight or nine feet in height, perhaps five in width. I forgot about hacking the wolf by ear and headed for the light. That had to be its goal, and I wanted to reach it first.

I ran on. The wolf was ahead of me and to my left. Its hair had ceased to blaze now, though it still snarled and yipped as it rushed along. Before us, the light grew brighter still, and I was able to see into it - through it and distinguish some of its features for the first time. I saw a hillside with a low stone building upon it, approached by a flagged walkway and a series of stone steps - framed like a picture within the rectangle - hazy at first, but coming clearer with each step. It was a cloudy afternoon within the picture, and the thing stood about twenty meters away now, in the midst of a clearing.

I realized as I saw the beast burst into the clearing that I was not going to be able to reach the place in time to snatch up the thing I knew must lie nearby. Still, I thought I might have a chance of catching the creature and halting its passage.

But it put on additional speed once it was in the clear. I could see the scene toward which it was headed more clearly than anything else in the vicinity. I shouted to distract it, but that did not work. My final burst of speed was not good enough. Then, on the ground, near the threshold, I saw what I was looking for. Too late. Even as I watched, the beast lowered its head and caught up in its teeth a flat rectangular object, without even breaking stride.

I halted and turned away as it plunged ahead, dropping my blade as I dove, rolling, continuing to roll.

I felt the force of the silent explosion, followed by the implosion and the small series of shock waves. I lay there thinking nasty thoughts until the turmoil had ceased; then I rose and retrieved my weapon.

The night was normal about me once again. Starlight. The wind in the pines. There was no need for me to turn, though I did, to know that the thing toward which I had been racing but moments before was now gone, without leaving any sign that it had been there, bright doorway to another place.

I hiked back to my camp and spent a while talking to Smoke, calming him. I donned my boots and cloak then, kicked dirt over the embers in my pit, and led the horse back to the road.

I mounted there and we moved on up the road toward Amber for the better part of an hour, before I settled upon a new campsite under a bonewhite piece of moon.

The rest of my night was untroubled. I was awakened by increased light and morning bird calls through the pines. I took care of Smoke, breakfasted quickly on the remains of my rations, put myself in the best order I could and was on my way within half an hour.

It was a cool morning, with banks of cumulus far off to my left, clear skies overhead. I did not hurry. My main reason for riding back rather than trumping home was to learn a little more of what this area near Amber was like, and the other was to gain a bit of solitude for thinking. With Jasra a prisoner, Luke in sick bay and Ghostwheel occupied it seemed that any major threats to Amber or myself were in abeyance, and a small breathing spell could be justified. I felt that I was actually near to a point where I could handle everything personally with regard to Luke and Jasra, as soon as I'd worked out a few more details. And I was certain I could deal with Ghost after that, as I'd found our most recent conversation somewhat encouraging.

That was the big stuff. I could worry about loose ends later. A two-bit wizard like Sharu Garrul was only a pain when considered in conjunction with everything else that was troubling me. Dueling with him would be no problem when I had a bit of leisure - though I had to admit I was puzzled as to why he should be interested in me at all.

Then there was the matter of the entity which had for a time been Vinta. While I saw no real threat in it, there was certainly a mystery which affected my peace of mind, and which seemed ultimately to have something to do with my security. This, too, was a matter to be dealt with when that bit of leisure finally came along.

And Luke's offer to reveal a piece of information vital to Amber's security, once Jasra was rescued, troubled me. Because I believed him, and I believed he'd keep his word. I had a hunch, though, that he wouldn't be giving it away unless it was too late to do much about it. Guesswork was, of course, futile; there was no way of knowing what preparations would be appropriate. Was the offer itself, no matter how authentic, also a bit of psychological warfare? Luke had always been more subtle than his bluff exterior seemed to indicate. It had taken me a long time to learn that, and I wasn't about to forget it now.

I felt I could discount the business of the blue stones for the moment, and I planned soon to be rid of all traces of their vibes. No problem there, other than a mental string around the finger for extra wariness, just in case -and I was already in that frame of mind, had been for some time.

That left the business of last night's wolf to be fitted into the bigger picture.

Obviously, it had been no normal beast, and its intent had been apparent enough. Other matters concerning its visit were less than clear, however. Who or what was it? Was it a principal or an agent? And, if the latter, who had sent it? And finally, finally, why?

Its clumsiness indicated to me - since I had tried that sort of business myself in the past - that it was a shapeshifted human rather than a true wolf magically gifted with speech. Most people who daydream of transforming themselves into some vicious beast and going about tearing people's throats out, dismembering them, disfiguring them and perhaps devouring them tend mainly to dwell upon how much fun it would be and generally neglect the practicalities of the situation. When you find yourself a quadruped, with a completely different center of gravity and a novel array of sensory input, it is not all that easy to get around for a time with any measure of grace. One is generally far more vulnerable than one's appearance would lead others to believe. And certainly one is nowhere near as lethal and efficient as the real thing with a lifetime of practice behind it. No. I've always tended to think of it more as a terrorist tactic than anything else.

Be that how it may, the manner of the beast's coming and going was actually the main cause of my trepidation concerning the entire affair. It had employed a Trump Gate, which is not a thing one does lightly - or at all, for that matter, if it can be avoided. It is a flashy and spectacular thing - to make Trump contact with some distant place and then pour tons of power into the objectification of such a gateway as a form possessed for a time of an independent existence. It is exceedingly profligate of energy and effort - even a hellrun is much easier - to create one which will stand for even fifteen minutes. It can drain most of your resources for a long while. Yet this was what had occurred. The reason behind it did not trouble me, as much as the fact that it had happened at all. For the only people capable of the feat were genuine initiates of the Trumps. It couldn't be done by someone who just happened to come into possession of a card.

Which narrowed the field considerably.

I tried to picture the werebeast about its errand. First, it would have to locate me and - of course. I suddenly recalled the dead dogs in the grove near Arbor House and the large doglike tracks in the vicinity. The thing had spotted me sometime before, then, and had been watching, waiting. It had followed me when I set out yesterday evening, and when I made my camp it made its move. It set up - or was set up with - the Trump Gate, for a retreat that would brook no pursuit. Then it came to kill me. And I had no way of telling whether it involved Sharu Garrul, Luke's secret, the blue stones or the body-switching entity's mission. For now it would simply have to dangle as yet another loose end, while I concentrated on basics.

I overtook and passed a line of wagons headed for Amber. A few horsemen went by me headed in the other direction. No one I knew, though everyone waved. The clouds continued to mount to my left, but nothing resembling a storm took shape. The day remained cool and sunny. The road dipped and rose again, several times, though overall it rose more than it dipped. I stopped at a large, busy inn for lunch, had a quick, filling meal and did not linger. The road improved steadily after that, and it was not long before I caught distant glimpses of Amber atop Kolvir, sparkling in the noonday light.

Traffic grew heavier as the sun advanced through the heavens. I continued to make plans and indulge in whatever speculations came to mind as I rode on into afternoon. My uphill way took several turnings as the route passed through the heights, but Amber remained in sight most of the time.

I recognized no one along the way, and I reached the Eastern Gatepart of an ancient fortification - late in the afternoon. I made my way up East Vine and stopped at the Bayle town house, where I had once attended a party. I left Smoke with a groom at the stable in the rear, and they both seemed happy to see each other. I walked around to the front door then and knocked. A servant informed me that the Baron was out, so I identified myself and gave him Vinta's message, which he promised to deliver when his employer returned.

That duty out of the way, I proceeded up East Vine on foot. Near the top, but before the slope grew roughly level, I smelled food and discarded my plan of waiting to eat until I was back at the palace. I halted and cast about me for the source of the aromas. I located it up a side sheet to my right where the way widened into a large circle, a fountain at its center in which a rearing copper dragon with a wonderful green patina pissed into a pink stone basin. The dragon faced a basement restaurant called the Pit, with ten outside tables enclosed by a low fence of copper pickets, potted plants along its inside perimeter. I crossed the circle. As I passed the fountain I saw a great number of exotic coins within its clear water, including a U. S. Bicentennial quarter. Crossing to the fenced area, I entered, made my way through and was about to descend the stair when I heard my name called.

«Merle! Over here!»

I looked about but did not see anyone I recognized at any of the four occupied tables. Then, as my eyes retraced their route, I realized that the older man at the corner table to my right was smiling.

«Bill!» I exclaimed.

Bill Roth rose to his feet - more a touch of display than any formality, I realized immediately. I hadn't recognized him at first because he now sported the beginnings of a grizzled beard and a mustache. Also, he had on brown trousers with a silver stripe running down their outside seams, vanishing into a pair of high brown boots. His shirt was silver with brown piping, and a black cloak lay folded upon the chair to his right. A wide black sword belt lay atop it and a sheathed blade of short-to-medium length was hung upon it.

«You've gone native. Also, you've lost some weight.»

«True,» he said, «and I'm thinking of retiring here. It agrees with me.»

We seated ourselves.

«Did you order yet?» I asked him.

«Yes, but I see a waiter on the stair now,» he said. «Let me catch him for you.»

Which he did, and ordered for me too.

«Your Thari's much better,» I said afterward.

«Lots of practice,» he replied.

«What've you been doing?»

«I've sailed with Gerard. I've been to Deiga, and to one of Julian's camps in Arden. Visited Rebma, too. Fascinating place. I've been taking fencing lessons. And Droppa's been showing me around town.»

«All the bars, most likely.»

«Well, that's not all. In fact, that's why I'm here. He owns a half interest in the Pit, and I had to promise him I'd eat here a lot. A good place, though. When did you get back?»

«Just now,» I said, «and I've another long story for you.»

«Good. Your stories tend to be bizarre and convoluted,» he said. «Just the thing for a cool autumn's eve. Let's hear it.»

I talked throughout dinner and for a long while afterward. The day's end chill began making it uncomfortable then, so we headed for the palace. I finally wound up my narrative over hot cider in front of the fireplace in one of the smaller rooms in the eastern wing.

Bill shook his head. «You do manage to stay busy,» he finally said. «I have just one question.»

«What?»

«Why didn't you bring Luke in?»

«I already told you.»

«It wasn't much of a reason. For some nebulous piece of information he says is important to Amber? And you've got to catch him to get it?»

«It's not like that at all.»

«He's a salesman, Merle, and he sold you a line of shit. That's what I think.»

«You're wrong, Bill. I know him.»

«For a long time,» he agreed. «But how well? We've been all through this before. What you don't know about Luke far outweighs what you do know.»

«He could have gone elsewhere, but he came to me.»

«You're part of his plan, Merle. He intends to get at Amber through you.»

«I don't think so,» I said. «It's not his style.»

«I think he'll use anything that comes to hand - or anyone.» I shrugged.

«I believe him. You don't. That's all.»

«I guess so,» he said. «What are you going to do now, wait and see what happens?»

«I've a plan,» I said. «Just because I believe him doesn't mean I won't take out insurance. But I've a question for you.»

«Yes?»

«If I brought him back here and Random decided the facts weren't clear enough and he wanted a hearing, would you represent Luke?»

His eyes widened, and then he smiled. «What kind of hearing?» he asked. «I don't know how such things are conducted here.»

«As a grandson of Oberon,» I explained, «he'd come under House Law. Random is head of the House now. It would be up to him whether to forget about a thing, render a summary judgment or call a hearing. As I understand it, such a hearing could be as formal or informal as Random wanted. There are books on the subject in the library. But a person has always had the right to be represented at one if he wanted.»

«Of course I'd take the case,» Bill said. «It doesn't sound like a legal experience that comes along too often.

«But it might look like a conflict of interest,» he added, «since I have done work for the Crown.»

I finished my cider and put the glass on the mantelpiece. I yawned. «I have to go now, Bill.»

He nodded; then, «This is all just hypothetical, isn't it?» he asked.

«Of course,» I said. «It might turn out to be my hearing. G'night.» He studied me.

«Uh-this insurance you were talking about,» he said. «It probably involves something risky, doesn't it?»

I smiled.

«Nothing anyone could help you with, I suppose?»

«Nope.»

«Well, good luck.»

«Thanks.»

«See you tomorrow?»

«Later in the day, maybe…»

I went to my room and sacked out. I had to get some rest before I went about the business I had in mind. I don't recall any dreams, pro or con, on the matter.

It was still dark when I woke. Good to know that my mental alarm was working.

It would have been very pleasant to turn over and go back to sleep, but I couldn't allow myself the luxury. The day that lay ahead was to be an exercise in timing. Accordingly, I got up, cleaned up and dressed myself in fresh clothes.

I headed for the kitchen then, where I made myself some tea and toast and scrambled a few eggs with chilis and onions and a bit of pepper. I turned up some melka fruit from the Shelters, too - something I hadn't had in a long while.

Afterward, I went out through the rear and made my way into the garden. Dark it was, moonless and damp, with a few wisps of mist exploring invisible paths. I followed a path to the northwest. The world was a very quiet place. I let my thoughts get that way, too. It was to be a onething-at-a-time day, and I wanted to start it off with that habit of mind in place.

I walked until I ran out of garden, passing through a break in a hedge and continuing along the rough trail my path had become. It mounted slowly for the first few minutes, took an abrupt turn and grew immediately steeper. I paused at one jutting point and looked back, from where I was afforded a view of the dark outline of the palace, a few lighted windows within it. Some scatters of cirrus high above looked like raked starlight in the celestial garden over which Amber brooded. I turned away moments later. There was still a good distance to travel.

When I reached the crest I was able to discern a faint line of lightening to the east, beyond the forest I had traversed so recently. I hurried past the three massive steps of song and story and began my descent to the north. Slow at first, the way I followed steepened abruptly after a time and led off to the northeast, then into a gentler decline. When it swung back to the northwest there was another steep area followed by another easy one, and I knew the going would be fine after that. The high shoulder of Kolvir at my back blocked all traces of the pre-dawn light I had witnessed earlier, and star-hung night lay before me and above, rubbing outlines to ambiguity on all but the nearest boulders. Still, I knew approximately where I was going, having been this way once before, though I'd only halted briefly at that time.

It was about two miles past the crest, and I slowed as I neared the area, searching. It was a large, somewhat horseshoe-shaped declivity, and when I finally located it I entered slowly, a peculiar feeling rising within me. I had not consciously anticipated all my reactions in this matter; but at some level I must have, I was certain.

As I moved into it, canyonlike walls of stone rising at either hand, I came upon the trail and followed it. It led me slightly downhill, toward a shadowy pair of trees, and then between them to where a low stone building stood, various shrubs and grasses grown wild about it. I understand that the soil was actually transported there to support the foliage, but afterward it was forgotten and neglected.

I seated myself on one of the stone benches in front of the building and waited for the sky to lighten. This was my father's tomb - well, cenotaph - built long ago when he had been presumed dead. It had amused him considerably to be able to visit the place later on. Now, of course, its status might well have changed. It could be the real thing now. Would this cancel the irony or increase it? I couldn't quite decide. It bothered me, though, more than I'd thought it would. I had not come here on a pilgrimage. I had come here for the peace and quiet a sorcerer of my sort needs in order to hang some spells. I had come here -

Perhaps I was rationalizing. I had chosen this spot because, real tomb or fake, it had Corwin's name on it, so it raised a sense of his presence, for me. I had wanted to get to know him better, and this might be as close as I could ever come. I realized, suddenly, why I had trusted Luke. He had been right, back at the Arbor House. If I learned of Corwin's death and saw that blame could be fixed for it, I knew that I would drop everything else, that I would go off to present the bill and collect it, that I would have to close the account, to write the receipt in blood. Even had I not known Luke as I did, it was easy to see myself in his actions and too uncomfortable a thing to judge him.

Damn. Why must we caricature each other, beyond laughter or insight, into the places of pain, frustration, conflicting loyalties?

I rose. There was enough light now to show me what I was doing.

I went inside and approached the niche where the empty stone sarcophagus stood. It seemed an ideal safe deposit box, but I hesitated when I stood before it because my hands were shaking. It was ridiculous. I knew that he wasn't in there, that it was just an empty box with a bit of carving on it. Yet it was several minutes before I could bring myself to take hold of the lid and raise it…

Empty, of course, like so many dreams and fears. I tossed in the blue button and lowered the lid again. What the hell. If Sharu wanted it back and could find it here, let him have the message that he was walking close to the grave when he played his games.

I went back outside, leaving my feelings in the crypt. It was time to begin. I'd a mess of spells to work and hang, for I'd no intention of going gently to the place where the wild winds blew.

Chapter 11

I stood on the rise above the garden, admiring the autumn foliage below. The wind played games with my cloak. A mellow afternoon light bathed the palace. There was a chill in the air. A flock of dead leaves rushed, lemming-like, past me and blew off the edge of the trail, rattling, into the air.

I had not really stopped to admire the view, however. I had halted while I blocked an attempted Trump contact - the day's second. The first had occurred earlier, while I was hanging a spell like a rope of tinsel on the image of Chaos. I figured that it was either Random - irritated that I was back in Amber and had not seem fit to bring him up to date on my most recent doings and my plans - or Luke, recovered now and wanting to request my assistance in his move against the Keep. They both came to mind because they were the two individuals I wished most to avoid; neither of them would much like what I was about to do, though for different reasons.

The call faded, was gone, and I descended the trail, passed through the hedge and entered the garden. I did not want to waste a spell to mask my passage, so I took a trail to the left, which led through a series of arbors where I was less exposed to the gaze of anyone who happened to glance out of a window. I could have avoided this by humping in, but that card always delivers one to the main hall, and I had no idea who might be there.

Of course, I was headed that way…

I went back in the way I had come out, through the kitchen, helping myself to a sandwich and a glass of milk on the way. Then I took the back stairs up a flight, lurked a bit and made it to my rooms without being spotted. There, I buckled on the sword belt I had left hanging at the head of my bed, checked the blade, located a small dagger I had brought with me from Chaos - a gift from the Pit-diver Borquist, whom I'd once fixed up with an introduction that led to a patronage (he was a middling-good poet) - and hung it on the other side of my belt. I pinned a Trump to the inside of my left sleeve. I washed my hands and face and brushed my teeth, too. But then I couldn't think of any other ways to stall. I had to go and do something I feared. It was necessary to the rest of my plan. I was overwhelmed by a sudden desire to be off sailing. Just lying on the beach would do, actually…

Instead, I departed my quarters and made my way back downstairs, returning the way I had come. I headed west along the back corridor, listening for footsteps and voices, retreating once into a closet to let some nameless parties pass. Anything to avoid official notice for just a little longer. Finally, I turned left, walked a few paces and waited the better part of a minute before entering the major corridor, which led past the large marble dining hall. No one in sight. Good. I sprinted to the nearest entrance and peered within. Great. The place was not in use. It wasn't normally used every day, but I'd no way of knowing whether today was some state occasion-though this was not a normal dining hour either.

I entered and passed through. There is a dark, narrow corridor to its rear, with a guard normally posted somewhere near the passage's mouth or the door at its end. All members of the family have access there, though the guard would log our passage. His superior wouldn't have that information until the guard reported when he went off duty, though. By then it shouldn't matter to me.

Tod was short, stocky, bearded. When he saw me coming he presented arms with an ax that had been leaning against the wall moments before. «At ease. Busy?» I asked.

«To tell the truth, no, sir.»

«I'll be heading down. I hope there are some lanterns up here. I don't know that stairway as well as most.»

«I checked a number inside when I came on duty, sir. I'll light you one.»

Might as well save the energy that would have gone into the fire spell, I decided. Every little bit helps…

«Thanks.»

He opened the door, hefted, successively, three lanterns which stood inside to the right, selected the second one. He took it back outside, where he lit it from the massive candle in its stand partway up the corridor.

«I'll be awhile,» I said as I accepted it from him. «You'll probably be off duty before I'm finished.»

«Very good, sir. Watch your step.»

«Believe me, I will.»

The long spiraling stair turned round and round with very little visible in any direction but below, where a few chimneyed candles, sconced torches or hung lanterns flared along the central shaft, doing more for acrophobia than absolute blackness might, I suppose. There were just those little dots of light below me. I couldn't see the distant Boor, or any walls. I kept one hand on the railing and held the lantern out in front with the other. Damp down here. Musty, too. Not to mention chilly.

Again, I tried counting the steps. As usual, I lost count somewhere along the way. Next time…

My thoughts went back to that distant day when I had come this route believing I was headed for death. The fact that I hadn't died was small comfort now. It had still been an ordeal. And it was still possible that I could screw up on it this time and get fried or go up in a puff of smoke.

Around, around. Down, down. Night thoughts in the middle of the afternoon…

On the other hand, I'd heard Flora say that it was easier the second time around. She'd been talking about the Pattern moments before, and I hoped that's what she was referring to.

The Grand Pattern of Amber, Emblem of Order. Matching in power the Great Logrus of the Courts, Sign of Chaos. The tensions between the two seem to generate everything that matters. Get involved with either, lose control - and you're done for. Just my luck to be involved with both. I've no one with whom to compare notes as to whether this makes things rougher, though it massages my ego to think that the mark of the one makes the other more difficult… and they do mark you, both of them. At some level you are torn apart and reassembled along the lines of vast cosmic principles when you undergo such an experience - which sounds noble, important, metaphysical, spiritual and lovely, but is mainly a pain in the ass. It is the price we pay for certain powers, but there is no cosmic principle requiring me to say I enjoy it.

Both the Pattern and the Logrus give to their initiates the ability to traverse Shadow unassisted - Shadow being the generic term for the possibly infinite collection of reality variations we play about in. And they also give us other abilities…

Around and down. I slowed. I was feeling slightly dizzy, just like before. At least I wasn't planning on coming back this way…

When the bottom finally came into sight I speeded up again. There was a bench, a table, a few racks and cases, a light to show them all. Normally, there was a guard on duty there, but I didn't see one. Could be off making rounds, though. There were cells somewhere to the left in which particularly unfortunate political prisoners might sometimes be found scrabbling about and going slowly out of their minds. I didn't know whether there were any such individuals doing time at the moment. I kind of hoped not. My father had once been one, and from his description of the experience it did not sound like easy time to do.

I halted when I reached the floor and called out a couple of times. I got back a suitably eerie echo, but no answer.

I moved to the rack and took up a filled lantern with my other hand. An extra one might come in handy. It was possible I would lose my way. I headed to the right then. The tunnel I wanted lay in that direction. After a long while, I stopped and raised a light, as it almost seemed I had come too far. There was still no tunnel mouth in sight. I looked back. The guard post was still in sight. I continued on, searching my memories of that last time.

Finally, there was a shifting of sounds - abrupt echoes of my footfalls. It would seem I was nearing a wall, an obstacle. I raised a lantern again. Yes. Pure darkness ahead. Gray stone about it. I went that way.

Dark. Far. There was a continuous shadow-show as my light slid over rocky irregularities, as its beams glanced off specks of brightness in the stone walls. Then there was a side passage to my left. I passed it and kept going. It seemed there should be another fairly soon. Yes. Two…

The third was farther along. Then there was a fourth. I wondered idly where they all led. No one had ever said anything about them to me. Maybe they didn't know either. Bizarre grottoes of indescribable beauty? Other worlds? Dead ends? Storerooms? One day, perhaps, when time and inclination came together…

Five…

And then another.

It was the seventh one I wanted. I halted when I came to it. It didn't go back all that far. I thought of the others who'd passed this way, and then I strode ahead, to the big, heavy, metal-bound door. There was a great key hanging from a steel hook that had been driven into the wall to my right. I took it down, unlocked the door and hung it back up again, knowing that the downstairs guard would check it and re-lock it at some point in his rounds; and I wondered - not for the first time - why it should be locked that way in the first place if the key was kept right there. It made it seem as if there were danger from something that might emerge from within. I had asked about that, but no one I'd questioned seemed to know. Tradition, I'd been told. Gerard and Flora had suggested, respectively, that I ask Random or Fiona. And they had both thought Benedict might know, but I'd never remembered to ask him.

I pushed hard and nothing happened. I put down the lanterns and tried again, harder. The door creaked and moved slowly inward. I recovered the lanterns and entered.

The door closed itself behind me, and Frakir - child of Chaos - pulsed wildly. I recalled my last visit and remembered why no one had brought an extra lantern upon that occasion: The bluish glow of the Pattern within the smooth, black floor lit the grotto well enough for one to see one's way about.

I lit the other lantern. I set the first one down at the near end of the Pattern and carried the other one with me about the periphery of the thing, setting it down at a point on its farther side. I did not care that the Pattern provided sufficient illumination to take care of the business at hand. I found the damned thing spooky, cold and downright intimidating. Having an extra natural light near at hand made me feel a lot better in its presence.

I studied that intricate mass of curved lines as I moved to the comer where they began. I had quieted Frakir but I had not entirely subdued my own apprehensions. If it were a response of the Logrus within me, I wondered whether my reaction to the Logrus itself would be worse were I to go back and essay it again, now that I bore the Pattern as well. Fruitless speculation…

I tried to relax. I breathed deeply. I shut my eyes for a moment. I bent my knees. I lowered my shoulders. No use waiting any longer…

I opened my eyes and set my foot upon the Pattern. Immediately, sparks rose about my foot. I took another step. More sparks. A tiny crackling noise. Another step. A bit of resistance as I moved again…

It all came back to me - everything I had felt the first time through: the chill, the small shocks, the easy areas and the difficult ones. There was a map of the Pattern somewhere inside me, and it was almost as if I read from it as I moved along that first curve, resistance rising, sparks flying, my hair stirring, the crackling, a kind of vibration…

I reached the First Veil, and it was like walking in a wind tunnel. Every movement involved heavy effort. Resolve, though; that was all that it really took. If I just kept pushing I would advance, albeit slowly. The trick was not to stop. Starting again could be horrible, and in some places impossible. Steady pressure was all that was required just now. A few moments more and I would be through. The going would be easier. It was the Second Veil that was the real killer…

Turn, turn…

I was through. I knew the way would be easy now for a time. I began to stride with a bit of confidence. Perhaps Flora had been right. This part seemed a little less difficult than it had the first time. I negotiated a long curve, then a sharp switchback. The sparks reached up to my boottops now. My mind was flooded with April thirtieths, with family politics in the Courts, where people dueled and died as the succession to the succession to the succession wound and shifted its intricate way through blood rituals of status and elevation. No more. I was done with all that. Push it away. They might be a lot politer about it, but more blood was spilled there than in Amber, and for the damnedest small advantages over one's fellows…

I gritted my teeth. It was hard to keep my mind focused on the task at hand. Part of the effect, of course. I remembered that too, now. Another step… Tingling sensations all the way up my legs… The crackling sounds as loud as a storm to me… One foot in front of the other… Pick them up, put them down… Hair standing on end now… Turn… Push… Bringing the Starburst in before an autumn squall, Luke running the sails, wind like the breath of dragons at our back… Three more steps and resistance rises…

I am upon the Second Veil, and it is suddenly as if I am trying to push a car out of a muddy ditch… All my strength goes forward, and the return on it is infinitesimal. I move with glacial slowness and the sparks are about my waist. I am blue flame…

My mind is abruptly stripped of distraction. Even Time goes away and leaves me alone. There is only this pastless, nameless thing I am become, striving with its entire being against the inertia of all its days - an equation so finely balanced that I should be frozen here in mid-stride forever, save that this cancellation of masses and forces leaves the will unimpaired, purifies it in a way, so that the process of progress seems to transcend the physical striving…

Another step, and another, and I am through, and ages older and moving again, and I know that I am going to make it despite the fact that I am approaching the Grand Curve, which is tough and tricky and long. Not at all like the Logrus. The power here is synthetic, not analytic…

The universe seemed to wheel about me. Each step here made me feel as if I were fading and coming back into focus, being broken down and reassembled, scattered and gathered, dying and reviving…

Outward. Onward. Three more curves then, followed by a straight line. I pushed ahead. Dizzy, nauseated. Soaking wet. End of the line. A series of arcs. Turn. Turn. Turn again…

I knew that I was coming up to the Final Veil when the sparks rose to become a cage of lightnings and my feet began to drag again. The stillness and the terrible pushing…

But this time I felt somehow fortified, and I drove onward knowing that I would win through…

I made it, shaking, and only a single short arc remained. Those final three steps may well be the worst, however. It is as if, having gotten to know you this well, the Pattern is reluctant to release you. I fought it here, my ankles sore as at any race's end. Two steps… Three

Off. Standing still. Panting and shuddering. Peace. Gone the static. Gone the sparks. If that didn't wash off the blue stones' vibes I didn' t know what would.

Now - well, in a minute - I could go anywhere. From this point, in this moment of empowerment, I could command the Pattern to transport me anywhere and I would be there delivered. Hardly a thing to waste to, say, save myself a walls up the spiral staircase and back to my rooms. No. I had other plans. In a minute…

I adjusted my apparel, ran my hand through my hair, checked my weapons and my hidden Trump, waited for the pounding of my pulse to subside.

Luke had sustained his injuries in a battle at the Keep of the Four Worlds, fighting with his former friend and ally Dalt, the mercenary, son of the Desacratrix. Dalt meant little to me save as a possible obstacle, in that he now seemed in the employ of the keeper of the Keep. But even allowing for any time differential - which was probably not that great - I had seen him fairly soon following his fight with Luke. Which seemed to indicate that he was at the Keep when I had reached him via his Trump.

Okay.

I tried to recall it, my memory of the room where I had reached Dalt. It was pretty sketchy. What was the minimum amount of data the Pattern required in order to operate? I recalled the texture of the stone wall, the shape of the small window, a bit of worn tapestry upon the wall, strewn rushes on the floor; a low bench and a stool had come into view to his rear when Dalt had moved, a crack in the wall above them - and a bit of cobweb…

I formed the image as sharply as I could. I willed myself there. I wanted to be in that place…

And I was.

I turned around quickly, my hand on the hilt of my blade, but I was alone in the chamber. I saw a bed and an armoire, a small writing table, a storage chest, none of which had been in my line of sight during my brief view of the place. Daylight shone through the small window.

I crossed the room to its single door and stood there for a long while, listening. There was only silence on the other side. I opened it a crack - it swung to the left - and looked upon a long, empty hallway. I eased the door farther open. There was a stairway directly across from me, leading down. To my left was a blank wall. I stepped outside and closed the door. Go down or go right? There were several windows on both sides of the hallway. I moved to the nearest one, which was to my right, and looked out.

I saw that I was near to the lower corner of a rectangular courtyard, more buildings across the way and to my right and left, all of them con nected at the corners save for an opening to the upper right which seemed as if it led to another courtyard where a very large structure rose beyond the buildings directly across from me. There were perhaps a dozen troops in the courtyard below, disposed near various entranceways, though not giving the appearance of being formally on guard - that is, they were engaged in cleaning and repairing their gear. Two of them were heavily bandaged. Still, most seemed in such a state that they could leap to service fairly quickly.

At the yard's far end was a strange bit of flotsam, looking like a large broken kite, which seemed somehow familiar. I decided to head along the hallway, which paralleled the courtyard, for it seemed that this would take me into those buildings along the farther edge of the perimeter and probably give me a view into the next yard.

I moved along the hallway, alert to any sounds of activity. There was nothing but silence as I advanced to the corner. I waited there for a long while, listening.

In that I heard nothing, I rounded the corner then, and froze. So did the man seated on the windowsill to the right. He wore a chain mail shirt, a leather cap, leather leggings and boots. There was a heavy blade at his side, but it was a dagger that he held in his hand, apparently giving himself a manicure. He looked as surprised as I felt when his head jerked in my direction.

«Who are you?» he asked.

His shoulders straightened and he lowered his hands as if to push himself from his perch and into a standing position.

Embarrassing to both of us. He seemed to be a guard. Whereas alertness or attempted stealth might have betrayed him to Frakir or myself, sloth had provided him with excellent concealment and me with a small dilemma. I was sure I couldn't bluff him, or trust to the result if I seemed to. I did not wish to attack him and create a lot of noise. This narrowed my choices. I could kill him quickly arid silently with a neat little cardiac-arrest spell I had hanging in front of me. But I value life too highly to waste it when there is no need. So, as much as I hated to spend another spell that I carried this soon, I spoke the word that caused my hand to move reflexively through an accompanying gesture, and I had a glimpse of the Logrus as its force pulsed through me. The man closed his eyes and slumped back against the casement. I adjusted his position against slippage and left him snoring peacefully, the dagger still in his hand. Besides, I might have a greater need for the cardiac-arrest spell later.

The corridor entered some sort of gallery ahead, which seemed to bulge in both directions. In that I could not see what lay at either hand beyond a certain point, I knew that I would have to expend another spell sooner than I might wish. I spoke the word for my invisibility spell, and the world grew several shades darker. I had been hoping to get a little farther before I had to use it, since it was only good for about twenty minutes and I had no idea where my prize might lie. But I couldn't afford to take chances. I hurried along and passed into the gallery, which proved empty.

I teamed a little more geography in that place, though. I had a view from there into the next courtyard, and it was gigantic. It contained the massive structure I had glimpsed from the other side. It was a huge, solidly built fortress; it appeared to have only one entrance, and that well guarded. From the opposite side of the gallery, I saw that there was also an outer courtyard, leading up to high, well-fortified walls.

I departed the gallery and sought a flight of stairs, almost certain that that hulking gray-stone structure was the place I should be searching. It had an aura of magic about it that I could feel down to my toes.

I jogged along the hallway, took a turn and saw a guard at the head of a stairway. (f he felt anything of my passage it was only the breeze stirred by my cloak. I rushed down the stairs. There was an adit at its foot, leading to another corridor-a dark one-off to the left; and there was a heavy ironbound door directly before me, in the wall facing the inner courtyard.

I pushed the door open, passed through and stepped aside quickly, for a guard had turned, stared and was beginning to approach. I avoided him and moved toward the citadel. A focus of powers, Luke had said. Yes. I could feel this more strongly the closer I got to the place. I did not have time to try to figure out how to deal with them, to channel them. Anyway, I'd brought along my private stock.

When I neared the wall I cut to the left. A quick circuit was in order, for informational purposes. Partway around it, I saw that my guess that there was only one apparent entrance was correct. Also, there were no windows in its walls lower than about thirty feet. There was a high, spiked metal fence about the place, and a pit on the inside of the fence. The thing that most surprised me was not a feature of the structure, however. On its far side, near the wall, were two more of the large broken kites and three relatively intact ones. The matter of context no longer clouded my perception - not with the unbroken ones before me. They were hang gliders. I was eager to take a closer look at them, but time was running on my invisibility and I couldn't afford the detour. I hurried the rest of the way around and studied the gate.

The gate to the fence was closed and Banked by two guards. Several paces beyond it was a removable wooden bridge, reinforced with metal strapping, in place across the ditch. There were large eye bolts at its corners, and there was a winch built into the wall above the gate; the winch bore four chains terminating in hooks. I wondered how heavy the bridge was. The door to the citadel was recessed about three feet into the stone wall, and it was high, wide and plated, looking as if it could withstand a battering ram's pounding for a good long while.

I approached the gate to the fence and studied it. No lock on it - just a simple hand-operated latching mechanism. I could open it, run through, dash across the span and be at the big door before the guards had any idea as to what might be going on. On the other hand, considering the nature of the place, they might well have had some instruction as to the possibility of an unnatural attack. If so, it would not be necessary for them to see me if they responded quickly and cornered me in the alcove. And I'd a feeling the heavy door inside was not unlocked.

I mused for several moments, sorting through my spells. I also checked again on the position of the six or eight other people in the yard. None were too near, none moving in this direction…

I advanced upon the guards quietly and placed Frakir on the shoulder of the man to my left with an order for a quick choke. Three rapid steps to the right, then, and I struck the other guard on the left side of his neck with the edge of my hand. I caught him beneath the armpits, to prevent the rattling a fall would produce, and lowered him to his rump, back against the fence, to the right of the gate. Behind me, though, I heard the clatter of the other man's scabbard against the fence as he slumped, clutching at his throat. I hurried to him, guided him the rest of the way to the ground and removed Frakir. A quick glance about showed me that two other men across the courtyard were now looking in this direction. Damn.

I unlatched the gate, slipped within, closed it and latched it behind me. I hurried across the bridge then and looked back. The two men I had noticed were now headed in this direction. Therefore, I was immediately presented with another choice. I decided to see how arduous the more strategically sound one might be.

Squatting, I caught hold of the nearest corner of the bridge - to my right. The ditch it spanned seemed something like twelve feet in depth, and it was almost twice that in width.

I began straightening my legs. Damned heavy, but the thing creaked and my comer rose several inches. I held it there for a moment, got control of my breathing and tried again. More creaking and a few more inches. Again… My hands hurt where the edges pressed into them. My arms felt as if they were being slowly wrenched from their sockets. As I straightened my legs and strained upward with even greater exertion,I wondered how many people fail in robust undertakings because of sudden lower back problems. I guess they're the ones you don't hear about. I could feel my heart pounding as if it filled my entire chest. My corner was now about a foot above the ground, but the edge to my left was still touching. I strained again, feeling the perspiration appear as if by magic across my brow and under my arms. Breathe… Up!

It went to knee level, then above. The corner to my left was finally raised. I heard the voices of the two approaching men-loud, excitedthey were hurrying now. I began edging to my left, dragging the whole structure with me. The corner directly across from me moved outward as I did so. Good. I kept moving. The corner to my left was now a couple of feet out over the chasm. I felt fiery pains all the way up my arms and into my shoulders and neck. Farther…

The men were at the gate now, but they paused to examine the fallen guards. Good, again. I still wasn't certain that the bridge might not catch and hold if I were to drop it. It had to slip into the chasm, or I was making myself a candidate for disk surgery for nothing. Left…

It began swaying in my grip, tipping to the right. I could tell that it was going to slip from my control in a few moments. Left again, left… almost… The men had turned their attention from the fallen guards to the moving bridge now and were fumbling at the latch. Two more were rushing to join them from across the way, and I heard a series of shouts. Another step. The thing was really slipping now. I wasn't going to be able to hold it… One more step…

Let go and get back!

My corner crashed against the edge of the chasm, but the wood splintered and the edge gave way and I kept retreating. The span flopped over as it fell, struck against the far side twice and hit the bottom with a terrific crash. My arms hung at my sides, useless for the moment.

I turned and headed for the doorway. My spell was still holding, so at least I was not a target for any hurled missiles from the other side of the moat.

When I got to the door it took all that I had of effort to raise my arms to the big ring on the right-hand side and catch hold of it. But nothing happened when I pulled. The thing was secured. I had expected that, though, and was prepared. I'd had to try first, however. I do not spend my spells lightly.

I spoke the words, three of them this time - less elegant because it was a sloppy spell, though it possessed immense force.

My entire body shook as the door exploded inward as if kicked by a giant wearing a steel-toed boot. I entered immediately and was immediately confused as my eyes adjusted to the dimness. I was in a two-storyhigh hall. Stairways rose to the right and the left ahead of me, curving inward toward a railed landing, the terminus of a second-floor hallway. There was another hallway below it, directly across from me. Two stairways also headed downward, to the rear of those which ascended. Decisions, decisions…

In the center of the room was a black stone fountain, spraying flamesnot water into the air; the fire descended into the font's basin, where it swirled and danced. The flames were red and orange in the air, white and yellow below, rippling. A feeling of power filled the chamber. Anyone who could control the forces loose in this place would be a formidable opponent indeed. With luck, I might not have to discover how formidable.

I almost wasted a special attack when I became aware of the two figures in the corner, off to my right. But they hadn't stirred at all. They were unnaturally still. Statues, of course…

I was trying to decide whether to go up, go down or move straight ahead, and I'd just about decided to descend, on the theory that there is some sort of instinct to imprison enemies in dank, below-ground quarters, when something about the two statues drew my attention again. My vision having adjusted somewhat, I could now make out that one was a white-haired man, the other a dark-haired woman. I rubbed my eyes, not realizing for several seconds that I had seen the outline of my hand. My invisibility spell was dissipating…

I moved toward the figures. The fact that the old man was holding a couple of cloaks and hats should have been the tipoff. But I raised the skirt of his dark blue robe anyway. In the suddenly brighter light from the fountain I saw where the name RINALDO had been carved into his right leg. Nasty little kid, that.

The woman at his side was Jasra, saving me the problem of seeking her amid rodents below. Her arms were also outstretched, as in a warding gesture, and someone had hung a pale blue umbrella upon the left and a light gray London Fog raincoat upon the right; the matching rain hat was on her head, at a lopsided angle. Her face had been painted like a clown's and someone had pinned a pair of yellow tassels to the front of her green blouse.

The light behind me flared even more brightly, and I tamed to see what was going on. The fountain, it turned out, was now spewing its liquid-like fires a full twenty feet into the air. They descended to overflow the basin and spread outward across the flagged floor. A major rivulet was headed in my direction. At that point, a soft chuckle caused me to look upward.

Wearing a dark robe, cowl and gauntlets, the wizard of the cobalt mask stood on the landing above me, one hand on the railing, the other pointed toward the fountain. In that I had anticipated our meeting on this expedition, I was not unprepared for the encounter. As the flames leaped even higher, forming a great bright tower that almost immediately began to bend and then topple toward me, I raised my arms in a wide gesture and spoke the word for the most appropriate of the three defensive spells I had hung earlier.

Air currents began to stir, powered by the Logrus, almost immediately achieving gale force and sending the flames back away from me. I adjusted my position then so that they were blown toward the wizard upstairs. Instantly, he gestured, and the flames fell back within the fountain, subsiding to the barest glowing trickle.

Okay. A draw. I had not come here to have it out with this guy. I had come to finesse Luke by rescuing Jasra on my own. Once she was my prisoner, Amber would sure as hell be safe from anything Luke had in mind. I found myself wondering, though, about this wizard, as my winds died down and the chuckle came again: Was he using spells, as I was? Or, living in the midst of a power source such as this, was he able to control the forces directly and shape them as he chose? If it were the latter, which I suspected, then he had a virtually inexhaustible source of tricks up his sleeve, so that in any full-scale competition on his turf I would eventually be reduced to flight or to calling in the nukes - that is, summoning Chaos itself to utterly reduce everything in the area - and this was a thing I was not about to do, destroying all the mysteries, including that of the wizard's identity, rather than solving them for answers that might be essential to Amber's well-being.

A shining metallic spear materialized in midair before the wizard, hung a moment, then flashed toward me. I used my second defensive spell, summoning a shield that turned it aside.

The only alternative I could see to my dueling with spells or blasting the place with Chaos would be for me to learn to control the forces here myself and try beating this guy at his own game. No time for practice now, though; I'd a job to do as soon as I could buy a few moments in which to get it done. Sooner or later, however, it seemed that we would have to have a full confrontation - since he seemed to have it in for me, and may well even have been the motive force behind the attack by the clumsy werewolf in the woods.

And I was not hot on taking chances to explore the power here further at this point - not if Jasra had been good enough to beat the original master of this place, Sharu Garrul, and then this guy had been good enough to beat Jasra. I'd give a lot, though, to know why he had it in for me…

So, «What do you want, anyway?» I called out.

Immediately, that metallic voice replied, «Your blood, your soul, your mind and your body.»

«What about my stamp collection?» I hollered back. «Do I get to keep the First Day Covers?»

I moved over beside Jasra and threw my right arm about her shoulders.

«What do you want with that one, funny man?» the wizard asked. «She is the most worthless property in this place.»

«Then why should you object to my taking her off your hands?»

«You collect stamps. I collect presumptuous sorcerers. She's mine, and you're next.»

I felt the power rising against me again even as I shouted, «What have you got against your brothers and sisters in the Art?»

There was no reply, but the air about me was suddenly filled with sharp, spinning shapes - knives, ax blades, throwing stars, broken bottles. I spoke the word for my final defense, the Curtain of Chaos, raising a chittering, smoky screen about us. The sharp items hurtling in our direction were instantly reduced to cosmic dust on coming into contact with it.

Above the din of this engagement I cried out; «By what name shall I call you?»

«Mask!» was the wizard's immediate reply - not very original, I thought. I'd half expected a John D. MacDonald appellation - Nightmare Mauve or Cobalt Casque, perhaps. Oh, well.

I had just used my last defensive spell. I had also just raised my left arm so that that portion of my sleeve bearing the Amber Trump now hung within my field of vision. I had cut things a bit fine, but I had not yet played my full hand. So far, I had run a completely defensive show, and I was rather proud of the spell I had kept in reserve.

«She'll do you no good, that one,» Mask said, as both our spells subsided and he prepared to strike again.

«Have a nice day, anyway,» I said, and I rotated my wrists, pointed my fingers to direct the flow and spoke the word that beat him to the punch. «An eye for an eye!» I called out, as the contents of an entire florist shop fell upon Mask, completely burying him in the biggest damned bouquet I'd ever seen. Smelled nice, too.

There was silence and a subsidence of forces as I regarded the Trump, reached through it. Just as the contact was achieved there was a disturbance in the floral display and Mask rose through it, like the Allegory of Spring.

I was probably already fading from his view as he said, «I'll have you yet.»

«And sweets to the sweet,» I replied, then spoke the word that completed the spell, dropping a load of manure upon him.

I stepped through into the main hall of Amber, bearing Jasra with me. Martin stood near a sideboard, a glass of wine in his hand, talking with Bors, the falconer. He grew silent at Bors's wide-eyed stare in my direction, then turned and stared himself.

I set Jasra on her feet beside the doorway. I was not about to screw around with the spell on her right now - and I was not at all sure what I'd do with her if I released her from it. So I hung my cloak on her, went over to the sideboard and poured myself a glass of wine, nodding to Bors and Martin as I passed.

I drained the glass, put it down, then said to them, «Whatever you do, don't carve your initials on her.» Then I went and found a sofa in a room to the east, stretched out on it and closed my eyes. Like a bridge over troubled waters. Some days are diamonds. Where have all the flowers gone?

Something like that.

Chapter 12

There was a lot of smoke, a giant worm and many flashes of colored light. Every sound was born into form, blazed to its peak, faded as it waned. Lightninglike stabs of existence, these - called from, returning to, Shadow. The worm went on forever. The dog-headed flowers snapped at me but later wagged their leaves. The flowing smoke halted before a skyhooked traffic light. The worm - no, caterpillar - smiled. A slow, blinding rain began, and all the drifting drops were faceted…

What is wrong with this picture? something within me asked.

I gave up, because I couldn't be sure. Though I'd a vague feeling the occasional landscape shouldn't be Rowing the way that it did…

«Oh, man! Merle…»

What did Luke want now? Why wouldn't he get off my case? Always a new problem.

«Look at that, will you?»

I watched where a series of bright bounding balls - or maybe they were comets - wove a tapestry of light. It fell upon the forest of umbrellas.

«Luke -» I began, but one of the dog-headed flowers bit a hand I'd forgotten about, and everything nearby cracked as if it were painted on glass through which a shot had just passed. There was a rainbow beyond -

«Merle! Merle!»

It was Droppa shaking my shoulder, my suddenly opened eyes showed me. And there was a damp place on the sofa where my head was resting. I propped myself on an elbow. I rubbed my eyes.

«Droppa… What-?»

«I don't know,» he told me.

«What don't you know? I mean… Hell! What happened?»

«I was sitting in that chair,» he said, with a gesture, «waiting for you to wake up. Martin had told me you were here. I was just going to tell you that Random wanted to see you when you got back.»

I nodded, then noticed that my hand was oozing blood-from the place where the flower had bitten me.

«How long was I out?»

«Twenty minutes, maybe.»

I swung my feet to the floor, sat up. «So why'd you decide to wake me?»

«You were trumping out,» he said.

«Trumping out? While I was asleep? It doesn't work that way. Are you sure»

«I am, unfortunately, sober at the moment,» he said. «You got that rainbow glow and you started to soften around the edges and fade. Thought I'd better wake you then and ask if that's what you really had in mind. What've you been drinking, spot remover?»

«No,» I said.

«I tried it on my dog once…»

«Dreams,» I said, massaging my temples, which had begun throbbing. «That's all. Dreams.»

«The kind other people can see, too? Like DTs b deux?»

«That's not what I meant.»

«We'd better go see Random.» He started to turn toward the doorway.

I shook my head. «Not yet. I'm just going to sit here and collect myself. Something's wrong.»

When I glanced at him I saw that his eyes were wide, and he was staring past me. I turned.

The wall at my back seemed to be melting, as if it were cast of wax and had been set too near a fire.

«It appears to be alarums and excursions time,» Droppa remarked. «Help!» And he was across the room and out of the door, screaming.

Three eyeblinks later the wall was normal again in every way, but I was trembling. What the hell was going on? Had Mask managed to lay a spell on me before I'd cut out? If so, where was it headed?

I rose to my feet and turned in a slow circle. Everything seemed to be in place now. I knew that it could not have been anything as simple as hallucination born of all my recent stresses, since Droppa had seen it too. So I was not cracking up. This was something else - and whatever it was, I felt that it was still lurking nearby. There was a certain unnatural clarity to the air now, and every object seemed unusually vivid within it.

I made a quick circuit of the room, not knowing what I was really seeking. Not surprisingly, therefore, I did not End it. I stepped outside then. Whatever the problem, could it spring from something I had brought back with me? Might Jasra, stiff and gaudy, have been a Trojan horse?

I headed for the main hall. A dozen steps along the way, a lopsided gridwork of light appeared before me. I forced myself to continue, and it receded as I advanced, changing shape as it did so.

«Merle, come on!» Luke's voice, Luke himself nowhere in sight.

«Where?» I called out, not slowing.

No answer, but the gridwork split down the middle and its two halves swung away from me like a pair of shutters. They opened onto a nearblinding light; within it, I thought I glimpsed a rabbit. Then, abruptly, the vision was gone, and the only thing that saved me from believing everything was normal again was several seconds' worth of Luke's sourceless laughter.

I ran. Was it really Luke who was the enemy, as I had been warned repeatedly? Had I somehow been manipulated through everything which had happened recently, solely for the purpose of freeing his mother from the Keep of the Four Worlds? And now that she was safe had he the temerity to invade Amber herself and summon me to a sorcerous duel the terms of which I did not even understand?

No, I could not believe it. I was certain he did not possess that sort of power. But even if he did, he wouldn't dare try it - not with Jasra my hostage.

As I rushed along I heard him again - from everywhere, from nowhere. This time he was singing. He had a powerful baritone voice, and the song was «Auld Lang Syne.» What sort of irony did this represent?

I burst into the main hall. Martin and Bors had departed. I saw their empty glasses on the sideboard near which they had been standing. And near the other door-? Yes, near the other door Jasra remained, erect, unchanged, still holding my cloak.

«Okay, Luke! Let's have it out!» I cried. «Cut the crap and let's settle this business!»

«Huh?»

The singing stopped abruptly.

I crossed slowly to Jasra, studying her as I went. Completely unchanged, save for a hat someone had added to her other hand. From somewhere else in the palace, I heard a shout. Maybe it was Droppa still alaruming.

«Luke, wherever you are,» I said, «if you can hear me, if you can see me, take a good look and listen: I've got her here. See? Whatever you're planning, bear that in mind.»

The room rippled violently, as if I were standing in the midst of an unframed painting someone had just decided to give a shake, to crinkle and then draw taut.

«Well?»

Nothing.

Then, a chuckle.

«My mother the hat rack… Well, well. Hey, thanks, buddy. Good show. Couldn't reach you earlier. Didn't know you'd gone in. They slaughtered us. Took some mercs in on hang gliders, rode the thermals. They were ready, though. Took us out. Don't remember exactly then… Hurts!»

«You okay?»

There came something like a sob, just as Random and Droppa entered the hall, the lank form of Benedict silent as death at their back.

«Merle!» Random called to me. «What's going on?»

I shook my head. «Don't know,» I said.

«Sure, I'll buy you a drink,» Luke's voice came very faintly.

A fiery blizzard swept through the center of the hall. It lasted only a moment, and then a large rectangle appeared in its place.

«You're the sorcerer,» Random said. «Do something!»

«I don't know what the hell it is,» I replied. «I've never seen anything like it. It's like magic gone wild.»

An outline began to appear within the rectangle, human. Its form settled and took on features, garments… It was a Trump a giant Trump - hanging in the middle of the air, solidifying. It was Me. I regarded my own features and they looked back at me. I noted that I was smiling.

«C'mon, Merle. Join the party,» I heard Luke say, and the Trump began to rotate slowly upon its vertical axis.

Sounds, as of glass bells, filled the hall.

The huge card turned until I viewed it edge-on, a black slash. Then the dark line widened with a ripple, like parting curtains, and I saw colored patches of intense light sliding beyond it. I also saw the caterpillar, puffing on a hookah, and fat umbrellas and a bright, shiny rail

A hand emerged from the slit. «Right this way.»

I heard a sharp intake of breath from Random.

Benedict's blade was suddenly pointed at the tableau. But Random laid his hand on his shoulder and said, «No.»

There was a strange, disconnected sort of music hanging in the air now; it seemed somehow appropriate.

«C'mon, Merle.»

«You coming or going?» I asked.

«Both.»

«You made me a promise, Luke: a piece of information for your mother's rescue,» I said. «Well, I've got her here. What's the secret?»

«Something vital to your well-being?» he asked slowly.

«Vital to the safety of Amber is what you'd said.»

«Oh, that secret.»

«I'd be glad to have the other one too.»

«Sorry. One secret is all I'm selling. Which will it be?»

«The safety of Amber,» I answered.

«Dalt,» he replied.

«What of him?»

«Deela the Desacratrix was his mother -»

«I already know that.»

«-and she'd been Oberon's prisoner nine months before he was born. He raped her. That's why Dalt's got it in for you guys.»

«Bullshit!» I said.

«That's what I told him when I'd heard the story one time too many. I dared him to walk the Pattern in the sky then.»

«And?»

«He did.»

«Oh.»

«I just learned that story recently,» Random said, «from an emissary I'd sent to Kashfa. I didn't know about his taking the Pattern, though.»

«If you knew, I still owe you,» Luke said slowly, almost distractedly. «Okay, here's more: Dalt visited me on the shadow Earth after that. He's the one who raided my warehouse, stole a stock of weapons and special ammo. Burnt the place after that to cover the theft. I found witnesses, though. He'll be along - any time. Who knows when?»

«Another relative coming to visit,» Random said. «Why couldn't I have been an only child?»

«Make what you will of it,» Luke added. «We're square now. Give me a hand!»

«You coming through?»

He laughed, and the whole hall seemed to lurch. The opening in the air hung before me and the hand clasped my own. Something felt very wrong.

I tried to draw him to me, but felt myself drawn toward him instead.

There was a mad power I could not fight, and the universe seemed to twist as it took hold of me. Constellations parted before me and I saw the bright railing again. Luke's booted foot rested upon it.

From some distant point to the rear I heard Random shouting, «B-twelve! B-twelve! And out!»

…And then I couldn't recall what the problem had been. It seemed a wonderful place. Silly of me to have mistaken the mushrooms for umbrellas, though…

I put my own foot up on the rail as the Hatter poured me a drink and topped off Luke's. Luke gestured to his left and the March Hare got a refill too. Humpty was fine, balanced there near the end of things. Tweedledum, Tweedledee, the Dodo and the Frog Footman kept the music moving. And the Caterpillar just kept puffing away.

Luke clapped me on the shoulder, and there was something I wanted to remember but it kept slipping out of sight.

«I'm okay now,» Luke said. «Everything's okay.»

«No, there's something… I can't recall…»

He raised his tankard, clanked it against my own. «Enjoy!» he said. «Life is a cabaret, old chum!»

The cat on the stool beside me just kept grinning.

Chapter 1

I felt vaguely uneasy, though I couldn't say why. It did not seem all that unusual to be drinking with a White Rabbit, a short guy who resembled Bertrand Russell, a grinning Cat, and my old friend Luke Raynard, who was singing Irish ballads while a peculiar landscape shifted from mural to reality at his back. Well, I was impressed by the huge blue Caterpillar smoking the hookah atop the giant mushroom because I know how hard it is to keep a water pipe lit. Still, that wasn't it. It was a convivial scene, and Luke was known to keep pretty strange company on occasion. So why should I feel uneasy?

The beer was good and there was even a free lunch. The demons tormenting the red-haired woman tied to the stake had been so shiny they'd. hurt to look at. Gone now, but the whole thing had, been beautiful. Everything was beautiful. When Luke sang of Galway Bay it had been so sparkling and lovely that I'd wanted to dive in and lose myself there. Sad, too.

Something to do with the feeling… Yes. Funny thought. When Luke sang a sad song I felt melancholy. When it was a happy one I was greatly cheered. There seemed an unusual amount of empathy in the air. No matter, I guess. The light. show was superb…

I sipped my drink and watched Humpty teeter, there at the end of the bar. For a moment I tried to remember when I'd come into this place, but that cylinder wasn't hitting. It would come to me, eventually. Nice party…

I watched and listens and tasted and felt, and it was all great. Anything that caught my attention was fascinating. Was there something I'd wanted to ask Luke? It seemed there was, but he was busy singing and I couldn't think of it now, anyway.

What had I been doing before I'd come into this place? Trying to recall just didn't seem worth the effort either. Not when everything was so interesting right here and now.

It seemed that it might have been something important, though. Could that be why I felt uneasy? Might it be there was business I had left unfinished and should be getting back to?

I turned to ask the Cat but he was fading again, still seeming vastly amused. It occurred to me then that I, too, could do that. Fade, I mean; and go someplace else. Was that how I had come here and how I might depart? Possibly. I put down my drink and rubbed my eyes and my temples. Things seemed to be swimming inside my head, too.

I suddenly recalled a picture of me. On a giant card. A Trump. Yes. That was how I'd gotten here. Through the card…

A hand fell upon my shoulder and I turned. It belonged to Luke, who grinned at me as he edged up to the bar for a refill.

«Great party, huh?» he said.

«Yeah, great. How'd you find this place?» I asked him.

He shrugged. «I forget. Who cares?»

He fumed away, a brief blizzard of crystals swirling between us. The Caterpillar exhaled a purple cloud. A blue moon was rising.

What is wrong with this picture? I asked myself.

I had a sudden feeling that my critical faculty had been shot off in the war, because I couldn't focus on the anomalies I felt must be present. I knew that I was caught up in the moment, but I couldn't see my way clear.

I was caught up…

I was caught…

How?

Well… It had all started when I'd shaken my own hand. No. Wrong. That sounds like Zen and that's not how it was. The hand I shook emerged from the space occupied by the image of myself on the card that went away. Yes, that was it… After a fashion.

I clenched my teeth. The music began again. There came a soft scraping sound near to my hand on the bar. When I looked I saw that my tankard had been refilled. Maybe I'd had too much already. Maybe that's what kept getting in the way of my thinking. I fumed away. I looked off to my left, past the place where the mural on the wall became the real landscape. Did that make me a part of the mural? I wondered suddenly.

No matter. If I couldn't think here… I began running… to the left. Something about this place was messing with my head, and it seemed impossible to consider the process while I was a part of it. I had to get away in order to think straight, to determine what was going on.

I was across the bar and into that interface area where the painted rocks and trees became three-dimensional. I pumped my arms as I dug in. I head the wind without feeling it.

Nothing that lay before me seemed any nearer. I was moving, but Luke began singing again.

I halted. I turned, slowly, because it sounded as if he were standing practically beside me. He was. I was only a few paces removed from the bar. Luke smiled and kept singing.

«What's going on?» I asked the Caterpillar.

«You're looped in Luke's loop,» it replied.

«Come again?» I said.

It blew a blue smoke ring, sighed softly, and said, «Luke's locked in a loop and you're lost in the lyrics. That's all.»

«How'd it happen?» I asked.

«I have no idea,» it replied.

«Uh, how does one get unlooped?»

«Couldn't tell you that either.»

I turned to the Cat, who was coalescing about his grin once again.

«I don't suppose you'd know-» I began.

«I saw him come in and I saw you come in later,» said the Cat, smirking. «And even for this place your arrivals were somewhat… unusual - leading me to conclude that at least one of you is associated with magic.»

I nodded.

«Your own comings and goings might give one pause,» I observed.

«I keep my paws to myself,» he replied. «Which is more than Luke can say.»

«What do you mean?»

«He's caught in a contagious trap.»

«How does it work?» I asked.

But he was gone again, and this time the grin went too.

Contagious trap? That seemed to indicate that the problem was Luke's, and that I had been sucked into it in some fashion. This felt right, though it still gave me no idea as to what the problem was or what I might do about it.

I reached for my tankard. If I couldn't solve my problem, I might as well enjoy it. As I took a slow sip I became aware of a strange pair of pale, burning eyes gazing into my own. I hadn't noticed them before, and the thing that made them strange was that they occupied a shadowy comer of the mural across the room from me that, and the fact that they were,moving, drifting slowly to my left.

It was kind of fascinating, when I lost sight of the eyes but was still able to follow whatever it was from the swaying of grasses as it passed into the area toward which I had been headed earlier. And far, far off to my right beyond Luke - I now detected a slim gentleman in a dark jacket, palette and brush in hand, who was slowly extending the mural. I took another sip and returned my attention to the progress of whatever it was that had moved from flat reality to 3-D. A gunmetal snout protruded from between a rock and a shrub; the pale eyes blazed above it; blue saliva dripped from the dark muzzle and steamed upon the ground. It was either quite short or very crouched, and I couldn't make up my mind whether it was the entire crowd of us that it was studying or me in particular. I leaned to one side and caught Humpty by the belt or the necktie, whichever it was, just as he was about to slump to the side…

«Excuse me,» I said. «Could you tell me what sort of creature that is?»

I pointed just as it emerged - many-legged, long-tailed, dark-scaled, undulating, and fast. Its claws were red, and it raised its tail as it raced toward us.

Humpty's bleary eyes moved toward my own, drifted past.

«I am not here, sir,» he began, «to remedy your zoological ignore - My God! It's-»

It flashed across the distance, approaching rapidly. Would it reach a spot shortly where its cunning would become a treadmill operation - or had that effect only applied to me on trying to get away from this place?

The segments of its body slid from side to side, it hissed like a leaky pressure cooker, and steaming slaver marked its trail from the fiction of paint. Rather than slowing, its speed seemed to increase.

My left hand jerked forward of its own volition and a series of words rose unbidden to my lips. I spoke them just as the creature crossed the interface I had been unable to pierce earlier, rearing as it upset a vacant table and bunching its members as if about to spring.

«A Bandersnatch!» someone cried.

«A frumious Bandersnatch!» Humpty corrected.

As I spoke the final word and performed the ultimate gesture, the image of the Logrus swam before my inner vision. The dark creature, having just extended its foremost talons, suddenly drew them back, clutched with them against the upper left quadrant of its breast, rolled its eyes, emitted a soft moaning sound, exhaled heavily, collapsed, fell to the floor, and rolled over onto its back, its many feet extended upward into the air.

The Cat's grin appeared above the creature. The mouth moved.

«A dead frumious Bandersnatch,» it stated.

The grin drifted toward me, the rest of the Cat occurring about it like an afterthought.

«That was a cardiac arrest spell, wasn't it?» it inquired.

«I guess so,» I said. «It was sort of a reflex. Yeah, I remember now. I did still have that spell hanging around.»

«I thought so,» it observed. «I was sure that there was magic involved in this party.»

The image of the Logrus which had appeared to me during the spell's operation had also served the purpose of switching on a small light in the musty attic of my mind. Sorcery. Of course.

I - Merlin, son of Corwin - am a sorcerer, of a variety seldom encountered in the areas I have frequented in recent years. Lucas Raynard - also known as Prince Rinaldo of Kashfa - is himself a sorcerer, albeit of a style different than my own. And the Cat, who seemed somewhat sophisticated in these matters, could well have been correct in assessing our situation as the interior of a spell. Such a location is one of the few environments where my sensitivity and training would do little to inform me as to the nature of my predicament. This, because my faculties would also be caught up in the manifestation and subject to its forces, if the thing were at all self consistent. It struck me as something similar to color blindness. I could think of no way of telling for certain what was going on, without outside help.

As I mused over these matters, the King's horses and men arrived beyond the swinging doors at the front of the place. The men entered and fastened lines upon the carcass of the Bandersnatch. The horses dragged the thing off. Humpty had climbed down to visit the rest room while this was going on. Upon his return he discovered that he was unable to achieve his former position atop the barstool. He shouted to the King's men to give him a hand, but they were busy guiding the defunct Bandersnatch among tables and they ignored him.

Luke strolled up, smiling.

«So that was a Bandersnatch,» he observed. «I'd always wondered what they were like. Now, if we could just get a Jabberwock to stop by-»

«Sh!» cautioned the Cat. «It must be off in the mural somewhere, and likely it's been listening. Don't stir it up! It may come whiffling through the tulgey wood after your ass. Remember the jaws that bite, the claws that catch! Don't go looking for troub-»

The Cat cast a quick glance toward the wall and phased into and out of existence several times in quick succession. Ignoring this, Luke remarked, «I was just thinking of the Tenniel illustration.»

The Cat materialized at the far end of the bar, downed the Hatter's drink, and said, «I hear the burbling, and eyes of flame are drifting to the left.»

I glanced at the mural, and I, too, saw the fiery eyes and heard a peculiar sound.

«It could be any of a number of things,» Luke remarked.

The Cat moved to a rack behind the bar and reached high up on the wall to where a strange weapon hung, shimmering and shifting in shadow. He lowered the thing and slid it along the bar; it came to rest before Luke.

«Better have the Vorpal Sword in hand, that's all I can say.»

Luke laughed, but I stared fascinated at the device which looked as if it were made of moth wings and folded moonlight…

Then I heard the burbling again.

«Don't just stand there in uffish thought!» said the Cat, draining Humpty's glass and vanishing again.

Still chuckling, Luke held out his tankard for a refill. I stood there in uffish thought: The spell I had used to destroy the Bandersnatch had altered my thinking in a peculiar fashion. It seemed for a small moment in its aftermath that things were beginning to come clear in my head. I attributed this to the image of the Logrus which I had regarded briefly. And so I summoned it again.

The Sign rose before me, hovered. I held it there. I looked upon it. It seemed as if a cold wind began to blow through my mind. Drifting bits of memory were drawn together, assembled themselves into an entire fabric, were informed with understanding. Of course…

The burbling grew louder and I saw the shadow of the Jabberwock gliding among distant trees, eyes like landing lights, lots of sharp edges for biting and catching…

And it didn't matter a bit. For I realized now what was going on, who was responsible, how and why.

I bent over, leaning far forward, so that my knuckles just grazed the toe of my right boot.

«Luke,» I said, «we've got a problem.»

He turned away from the bar and glanced down at me.

«What's the matter?» he asked.

Those of the blood of Amber are capable of terrific exertions. We are also able to sustain some pretty awful beatings. So, among ourselves, these things tend to cancel out to some degree. Therefore, one must go about such matters just right if one is to attend to them at all…

I brought my fist up off the floor with everything I had behind it, and I caught Lake on the side of the jaw with a blow that lifted him above the ground as it turned him and sent him sprawling across a table which collapsed, to continue sliding backward the length of the entire serving area where he finally came to a crumpled halt at the feet of the quiet Victorian-looking gentleman - who had dropped his paintbrush and stepped away quickly when Luke came skidding toward him. I raised my tankard with my left hand and poured its contents over my right fist, which felt as if I had just driven it against a mountainside. As I did this the lights grew dim and there was a moment of utter silence.

Then I slammed the mug back onto the bartop. The entire place chose that moment in which to shudder, as if from an earth tremor. Two bottles fell from a shelf; a lamp swayed, the burbling grew fainter. I glanced to my left and saw that the eerie shadow of the Jabberwock had retreated somewhat within the tulgey wood. Not only that, the painted section of the prospect now extended a good deal farther into what had seemed normal space, and it looked to be continuing its advance in that direction, freezing that corner of the world into flat immobility. It became apparent from whiffle to whiffle that the Jabberwock was now moving away, to the left, hurrying ahead of the flatness. Tweedledum, Tweedledee, the Dodo, and the Frog began packing their instruments.

I started across the bar toward Luke's sprawled form. The CaterpilIar was disassembling his hookah, and I saw that his mushroom was tilted at an odd angle. The White Rabbit beat it down a hole to the rear, and I head Humpty muttering curses as he swayed atop the bar stool he had just succeeded in mounting.

I saluted the gentleman with the palette as I approached.

«Sorry to disturb you,» I said. «But believe me, this is for the better.»

I raised Luke's limp form and slung him over my shoulder. A flock of playing cards flew by me. I dew away from them in their rapid passage.

«Goodness! It's frightened the Jabberwock!» the man remarked, looking past me.

«What has?» I asked, not really certain that I wished to know.

«That,» he answered, gesturing toward the front of the bar.

I looked and I staggered back and I didn't blame the Jabberwock a bit.

It was a twelve-foot Fire Angel that had just entered russet-colored, with wings like stained-glass windows and, along with intimations of mortality, it brought me recollections of a praying mantis, with a spiked collar and thornlike claws protruding through its short fur at every suggestion of an angle. One of these, in fact, caught on and unhinged a swinging door as it came inside. It was a Chaos beast - rare, deadly, and, highly intelligent. I hadn't seen one in years, and I'd no desire to see one now; also, I'd no doubt that I was the reason it was here. For a moment I regretted having wasted my cardiac arrest spell on a mere Bandersnatch - until I recalled that Fire Angels have three hearts. I glanced quickly about as it spied me, gave voice to a brief hunting wail, and advanced.

«I'd like to have had some time to speak with you,» I told the artist. «I like your work. Unfortunately-»

«I understand.»

«So long.»

«Good luck.»

I stepped down into the rabbit hole and ran, bent far forward because of the low overhead. Luke made my passage partiсularly awkward, especially on the turns. I heard a scrabbling noise fat to the rear, with a repetition of the hunting wail. I was consoled, however, by the knowledge that the Fire Angel would actually have to enlarge sections of the tunnel in order to get by. The bad news was that it was capable of doing it. The creatures are incredibly strong and virtually indestructible.

I kept running till the floor dipped beneath my feet.

Then I began falling. I reached out with my free hand to catch myself, but there was nothing to catch hold of. The bottom had fallen out. Good. That was the way I'd hoped and half expected it would be. Luke uttered a single soft moan but did not stir.

We fell. Down, down, down, like the man said. It was a well, and either it was very deep or we were falling very slowly. There was twilight all about us, and I could not discern the walls of the shaft. My head cleared a bit further, and I knew that it would continue to do so for as long as I kept control of one variable: Luke. High in the air overhead I heard the hunting wail once again. It was followed immediately by a strange burbling sound. Frakir began pulsing softly upon my wrist again, not really telling me anything I didn't already know. So I silenced her again.

Clearer yet. I began to remember… My assault on the Keep of the Four Worlds and my recovery of Luke's mother, Jasra. The attack of the werebeast. My odd visit with Vinta Bayle, who wasn't really what she seemed.

My dinner in Death Alley… The Dweller, San Francisco, the crystal cave… Clearer and clearer.

… And louder and louder the hunting wail of the Fire Angel above me. It must have made it through the tunnel and be descending now. Unfortunately, it possessed wings, while all I could do was fall.

I glanced upward. Couldn't make out its form, though. Things seemed darker up that way than down below. I hoped this was a sign that we were approaching something in the nature of a light at the end of the tunnel, as I couldn't think of any other way out. It was too dark to view a Trump or to distinguish enough of the passing scene to commence a shadow shift.

I felt we were drifting now, rather than falling, at a rate that might permit us to land intact. Should it seem otherwise when we neared the bottom, then a possible means of further slowing our descent came to mind - an adaptation of one of the spells I still carried with me.

However, these considerations were not worth much should we be eaten on the way down - a distinct possibility, unless of course our pursuer were not all that hungry, in which case it might only dismember us. Consequently, it might become necessary to try speeding up to stay ahead of the beast - which of course would cause us to smash when we hit.

Decisions, decisions.

Luke stirred slightly upon my shoulder. I hoped he wasn't about to come around, as I didn't have time to mess with a sleep-spell and I wasn't really in a good position to slug him again. That pretty much left Frakir.

But if he were borderline, then choking might serve to rouse him rather than send him back - and I did want him in decent shape. He knew too many things I didn't, things I now needed.

We passed through a slightly brighter area, and I was able to distinguish the walls of the shaft for the first time and to note that they were covered with graffiti in a language that I did not understand. I was reminded of a strange short story by Jamaica Kincaid, but it bore me no clues for deliverance. Immediately following our passage through that band of illumination, I distinguished a small spot of light far below. At almost the same moment' I heard the wail once again, this time very near.

I looked up in time to behold the Fire Angel passing through the glow. But there was another shape close behind it, and it wore a vest and burbled. The Jabberwock was also on the way down, and it seemed to be making the best time of any of us. The question of its purpose was immediately prominent; as it gained, the circle of light grew and Luke stirred again. This question was quickly answered; however, as it caught up with the Fire Angel and attacked.

The whiffling, the wailing, and the burbling suddenly echoed down the shaft, along with hissing, scraping, and occasional snarls. The two beasts came together and tore at each other, eyes like dying suns, claws like bayonets, forming a hellish mandala in the pale light which now reached them from below. While this produced a round of activity too near at hand for me to feel entirely at ease, it did serve to slow them to the point where I felt I need not risk an ill-suited spell and an awkward maneuver to emerge from the tunnel in one piece.

«Argh!» Luke remarked, turning suddenly within my grasp.

«I agree,» I said. «But lie still, will you? We're about to crash-»

«-and burn,» he stated, twisting his head upward to regard the combatant monsters, then downward when he realized that we were falling, too. «What kind of trip is this?»

«A bad one,» I answered, and then it hit me: That was exactly what it was.

The opening was even larger now, and our velocity sufficient for a bearable landing. Our reaction to the spell that I called the Giant's Slap would probably slow us to a standstill or even propel us backward. Better to collect a few bruises than become a traffic obstruction at this point.

A bad trip indeed. I was thinking of Random's words as we passed through the opening at a crazy angle, hit dirt, and rolled.

We had come to rest within a cave, near to its mouth. Tunnels ran off to the right and the left. The cave mouth was at my back. A quick glance showed it as opening upon a bright, possibly lush, and more than a little outof focus valley. Luke was sprawled unmoving beside me. I got to my feet immediately and caught hold of him beneath the armpits. I began dragging him back away from the dark opening from which we had just emerged. The sounds of the monstrous conflict were very near now.

Good that Luke seemed unconscious again. His condition was bad enough for any Amberite, if my guess were correct. But for one of sorcerous ability it represented a highly dangerous wild card of a sort I'd never encountered before. I wasn't at all certain how I should deal with it.

I dragged him toward the righthand tunnel because it was the smaller of the two and would theoretically be a bit easier to defend. We had barely achieved its shelter when the two beasts fell through the opening, clutching and tearing at each other. They commenced rolling about the floor of the cave, claws clicking, uttering hisses and whistles as they tore at each other. They seemed to have forgotten us entirely; and I continued our retreat until we were well back in the tunnel.

I could only assume Random's guess to be correct… After all, he was a musician and he'd played all over Shadow. Also, I couldn't come up with anything better.

I summoned the Sign of the Logrus. When I had it clear and had meshed my hands with it, I might have used it to strike- at the fighting beasts. But they were paying me no heed whatsoever, and I'd no desire to attract their attention. Also, I'd no assurance that the equivalent of being hit by a two-by-four would have much effect on them. Besides, my order was ready, and filling it took precedence.

So I reached.

It took an interminable time. There was an extremely wide area of Shadow to pass though before I found what I was looking for. Then I had to do it again. And again. There were a number of things I wanted, and none of them near.

In the meantime, the combatants showed no sign of slackening, and their claws struck sparks from the cave's walls. They had cut each other in countless places and were now covered with dark gore. Luke had awakened during all of this, propped himself, and was staring fascinated at the colorful conflict. How long it might hold his attention I could not tell. It would be important for me to have him awake very soon now, and I was pleased that he had not started thinking of other matters yet.

I was cheering, by the way, for the Jabberwock. It was just a nasty beast and need not have been homing in on me in particular when it was distracted by the arrival of its exotic nemesis. The Fire Angel had been playing an entirely different game. There was no reason for a Fire Angel to be stalking about this far from Chaos unless it had been sent: They're devilish hard to capture, harder to train, and dangerous to handle. So they represent a considerable expense and hazard. One does not invest in a Fire Angel lightly. Their main purpose in life is killing, and to my knowledge no one outside the Courts of Chaos has ever employed one: They've a vast array of senses some of them, apparently, paranormal - and they can be used as Shadow bloodhounds. They don't wander through Shadow on their own, that I know of. But a Shadowwalker can be tracked, and Fire Angels seem to be able to follow a very cold trail once they've been imprinted with the victim's identity. Now, I had been trumped to that crazy bar, and I didn't know they could follow a Trump jump, but several other possibilities occurred to me - including someone's locating me, transporting the thing to my vicinity, and turning it loose to do its business. Whatever the means, though, the attempt had the mark of the Courts upon it. Hence, my quick conversion to Jabberwock fandom.

«What's going on?» Luke asked me suddenly, and the walls of the cave faded for a moment and I heard a faint strain of music.

«It's tricky,» I said. «Listen, it's time for your medicine.»

I dumped out a palmful of the vitamin B12 tabs I had just brought in and uncapped the water bottle I had also summoned.

«What medicine?» he asked as I passed them to him.

«Doctor's orders,» I said. «Get you back on your feet faster.»

«Well, okay.»

He threw all of them into his mouth and downed them with a single big drink.

«Now these.»

I opened the bottle of Thorazine. They were 200 milligrams each and I didn't know how many to give him, so I decided on three. I gave him some. tryptophan, too, and some phenylalanine.

He stared at the pills. The walls faded again, the music returned. A cloud of blue smoke drifted past us. Suddenly the bar came into view, back to whatever passed for normal in that place. The upset tables had been righted, Humpty still teetered, the mural went on.

«Hey, the club!» Luke exclaimed. «We ought to head back. Looks like the party's just getting going.»

«First, you take your medicine.»

«What's it for?»

«You got some bad shit somewhere. This is to let you down easy.»

«I don't feel bad. In fact, I feel real good-»

«Take it!»

«Okay! Okay!»

He tossed off the whole fistful.

The Jabberwock and the Fire Angel seemed to be fading now - and my latest exasperated gesture in the vicinity of the bartop had encountered some resistance, though the thing was not fully solid to me yet. Suddenly, then, I noticed the Cat, whose games with substantiality somehow at this point made it seem more real than anything else in the place.

«You coming or going?» if asked.

Luke began to rise. The light grew brighter, though more diffuse.

«Uh, Luke, look over there,» I said, pointing

«Where?» he asked, turning his head.

I slugged him again.

As he collapsed, the bar began to fade. The walls of the cave phased back into focus. I heard the Cat's voice. «Going…» it said.

The noises returned full blast, only this time the dominant sound was a bagpipelike squeal. It was coming from the Jabberwock, who was pinned to the ground and being slashed at. I decided then to use the Fourth of July spell I had left over from my assault on the citadel. I raised my hands and spoke the words. I moved in front of Luke to block his view as I did so, and I looked away and squeezed my eyes shut as I said them. Even through closed eyes I could tell there followed a brilliant flash of light. I heard Luke say, «Hey!» but all other sounds ceased abruptly. When I looked again I saw that the two creatures lay as if stunned, unmoving, toward the far side of the small cave.

I grabbed hold of Luke's hand and drew him up and over my shoulders in a fireman's carry. Then I advanced quickly into the cave, slipping only once on monster blood as I edged my way along the nearest wall, heading for the cave mouth. The creatures began to stir before I made it out, but their movements were more reflexive than directed. I paused at the opening where I beheld an enormous flower garden in full bloom. All of the flowers were at least as tall as myself, and a shifting breeze bore me an overpowering redolence.

Moments later I heard a more decisive movement at my back and I turned. The Jabberwock was drawing itself to its feet. The Fire Angel was still crouched and was making small piping noises. The Jabberwock staggered back, spreading its wings, then suddenly turned, beat the air, and fled back up the high hole in the cleft at the rear of the cave. Not a bad idea, I decided, as I hurried out into the garden.

Here the aromas were even stronger, the flowers, mostly in bloom, a fantastic canopy of colors as I noshed among them. I found myself panting after a short while, but I jogged on nevertheless. Luke was heavy, but I wanted to put as much distance as I could between ourselves and the cave. Considering how fast our pursuer could move, I wasn't sure there was sufficient time to fool with a Trump yet.

As I hurried along I began feeling somewhat woozy, and my extremities seemed extremely distant. It occurred to me immediately that the flower smells might be a bit narcotic. Great. That was all I needed, to get caught up in a drug high while trying to bring Luke back from one. I could make out a hill, slightly elevated clearing in the distance, though, and I headed for it. Hopefully, we could rest there for a bit while I regained my mental footing and decided what to do next. So far, I could detect no sounds of pursuit.

Rushing on, I could feel myself beginning to reel. My equilibrium was becoming impaired. I suddenly felt a fear of falling, almost akin to acrophobia. For it occurred to me that if I fell I might not be able to rise again, that I might succumb to a drugged sleep and be discovered and dispatched by the creature of Chaos while I dozed. Overhead, the colors of the flowers ran together, flowing and tangling like a mass of ribbons in a bright stream. I tried to control my breathing, to take in as little of the effluvia as possible. But this was difficult, as winded as I was becoming.

But I did not fall, though I collapsed beside Luke at the center of the clearing after I'd lowered him to the ground. He remained unconscious, a peaceful expression on his face. A wind swept our hillock from the direction of its far side, where nasty-looking, spiked plants of a nonflowering variety grew. Thus, I no longer smelled the seductive odors of the giant flower field, and after a time my head began to clear. On the other hand, I realized that this meant that our own scents were being borne back in the direction of the cave. Whether the Fire Angel could unmask them within the heady perfumes, I did not know, but providing it with even that much of an opportunity made me feel uncomfortable.

Years ago, as an undergraduate, I had tried some LSD. It had scared me so badly that I'd never tried another hallucinogen since. It wasn't simply a bad trip. The stuff had affected my shadow-shifting ability. It is kind of a truism that Amberites can visit any place they can imagine, for everything is out there, somewhere; in Shadow. By combining our minds with motion we can tune for the shadow we desire. Unfortunately, I could not control what I was imagining. Also unfortunately, I was transported to those places. I panicked, and that only made it worse. I could easily have been destroyed, for I wandered through the objectified jungles of my subconscious and passed some time in places where the bad things dwell. After I came down I found my way back home, turned up whimpering on Julia's doorstep, and was a nervous wreck for days. Later, when I told Random about it, I learned that he had had some similar experiences. He had kept it to himself at first as a possible secret weapon against the rest of the family; but later, after they'd gotten back onto decent terms with each other, he had decided to share the information in the interest of survival. He was surprised to learn then that Benedict, Gerard, Fiona, and Bleys knew all about it though their knowledge had come from other hallucinogene and, strangely, only Fiona had ever considered its possibility as an in-family weapon. She'd shelved the notion, though, because of its unpredictability. This had been sometime back, however, and in the press of other business in recent years it had slipped his mind; it simply had not occurred to him that a new, arrival such as myself should perhaps be cautioned.

Luke had told me that his attempted invasion of the Keep of the Four Words, by means of a glider-borne commando team, had been smashed. Since I had seen the broken gliders at various points within the walls during my own visit to that place, it was logical to assume that Luke had been captured. Therefore, it seemed a fairly strong assumption that the sorcerer Mask had done whatever had been done to him to bring him to this state. It would seem that this simply involved introducing a dose of a hallucinogen to his prison fare and turning him loose to wander and look at the pretty lights. Fortunately, unlike myself, his mental travelings had involved nothing more threatening than the brighter aspects of Lewis Carroll. Maybe his heart was purer than mine. But the deal was weird any way you looked at it. Mask might have killed him or kept him in prison or added him to the coatrack collection. Instead, while what had been done was not without risk, it was something which would wear off eventually and leave him chastened but at liberty. It was more a slap on the wrist than a real piece of vengeance. This, for a member of the House which had previously held sway in the Keep and would doubtless like to do so again. Was Mask supremely confident? Or did he not really see Luke as much of a threat?

And then there is the fact that our shadow-shifting abilities and our sorcerous abilities come from similar roots - the Pattern or the Logms. It had to be that messing with one also messed with the other. That would explain Luke's strange ability to summon me to him as by a massive Trump sending, when in actuality there was no Trump: His drug-enhanced abilities of visualization must have been so intense that the card's physical representation of me was unnecessary. And his skewed magical abilities would account for all of the preliminary byplay, all of the odd, reality-distorting experiences I'd had before he actually achieved contact. This meant that either of us could become very dangerous in certain drugged states. I'd have to remember that. I hoped he wouldn't wake up mad at me for hitting him, before I could talk to him a bit. On the other hand; the tranquilizer would hopefully keep him happy while the other stuff worked at detoxing him.

I massaged a sore muscle in my left leg and rose to my feet. I caught hold of Luke beneath the armpits and dragged him about twenty paces farther along into the clearing. Then I sighed and returned to the spot where I had rested. There was not sufficient time to flee farther. And as the wailing increased in volume and the giant flowers swayed in a line heading directly toward me glimpses of a darker form becoming visible amid the stalks - I knew that with the Jabberwock fled the Fire Angel was back on the job, and since this confrontation seemed inevitable, this clearing was as good a place to meet it as any, and better than most.

Chapter 2

I unfastened the bright thing at my belt and began to unfold it. It made a series of clicking noises as I did so. I was hoping that I was making the best choice available to me rather than, say, a bad mistake.

The creature took longer than I'd thought to pass among the flowers. This could mean it was having trouble following my trail amid its exotic surroundings. I was hoping, though, that it meant it had been sufficiently injured in its encounter with the Jabberwock that it had lost something of its strength and speed.

Whatever, the final stalks eventually swayed and were crushed. The angular creature lurched forward and halted to stare at me with unblinking eyes. Frakir panicked, and I calmed her. This was a little out of her league. I had a Fire Fountain spell left, but I didn't even bother with it: I knew it wouldn't stop the thing, and it might make it behave unpredictably.

«I can show you the way back to Chaos,» I shouted, «if you're getting homesick!»

It wailed softly and advanced. So much for sentimentality.

It came on slowly, oozing fluids from a dozen wounds. I wondered if it were still capable of noshing me or if its present pace were the best it could manage. Prudence dictated I assume the worst, so I tried to stay loose and ready to match anything it attempted.

It didn't rush, though. It just kept coming, like a small tank with appendages. I didn't know where its vital spots were located. Fire Angel anatomy had not been high on my list of interests back home. I gave myself a crash course, however, in the way of gross observation as it approached. Unfortunately, this gave me to believe that it kept everything important well protected. Too bad.

I did not want to attack in case it was trying to sucker me into something. I was not aware of its combat tricks, and I did not care to expose myself unduly in order to learn them. Better to stay on the defense and let it make the first move; I told myself. But it just kept moving nearer and nearer. I knew that I'd be forced to do something soon, even if it were only to retreat…

One of those long, folded front appendages flashed out toward me, and I spun to the side and cut. Snicker-snack! The limb lay on the ground, still moving. So I kept moving, also. One-two, one-two! Snicker-snack!

The beast toppled slowly to its left, for I had removed all of the limbs on that side of its body.

Then, overconfident, I passed too near in racing to round its head to reach the other side and repeat the performance while it was still traumatized and collapsing. Its other extensor flashed out. But I was too near and it was still toppling: Instead of catching me with its clawed extremity, it hit me with the equivalent of shin or forearm. The blow struck me across the chest and I was knocked backward.

As I scrambled away and drew my feet beneath me to rise, I heard Luke say, groggily, «Now what's going on?»

«Later,» I called, without looking back.

Then, «Hey! You hit me!» he added.

«All in good fun,» I answered. «Part of the cure,» and I was up and moving again.

«Oh,» I heard him say.

The thing was on its side now and that big limb struck wildly at me, several times. I avoided it and was able to gauge its range and striking angle.

Snicker-snack. The limb fell to the ground and I moved in.

I swung three blows which passed all the way through its head from different angles before I was able to sever it. It kept making clicking noises, though, and the torso kept pitching and scrabbling about on the remaining limbs.

I don't know how many times I struck after that. I just kept at it until the creature was literally diced. Luke had begun shouting «Ole!» each time that I struck. I was perspiring somewhat by then, and I noticed that heat waves or something seemed to be causing my view of the distant flowers to ripple in a disturbing fashion. I felt foresighted as all hell, though - the Vorpal Sword I'd appropriated back in the bar had proved a fine weapon. I swung it through a high arc, which I'd noted seemed to cleanse it entirely, and then I began folding it back into its original compact form. It was as soft as flower,petals, and it still gave off a faint dusty glow…

«Bravo!» said a familiar voice, and I fumed until I saw the smile followed by the Cat, who was tapping his paws lightly together. «Callooh! Callay!» he added. «Well done, beamish boy!»

The background wavering grew stronger, and the sky darkened. I heard Luke say «Hey!» and when I glanced back I saw him getting to his feet, moving forward. When I looked again I could see the bar forming at the Cat's back, and I caught a glimpse of the brass rail. My head began to swim.

«There's normally a deposit on the Vorpal Sword,» the Cat was saying. «But since you're returning it intact-»

Luke was beside me. I could hear music again, and he was humming along with it. Now it was the clearing, with its butchered Fire Angel, that seemed the superimposition, as the bar increased in solidity, taking on nuances of color and shading.

But the place seemed somehow smaller - the tables closer together, the music softer, the mural more compressed and its artist out of sight. Even the Caterpillar and his mushroom had retreated to a shadowy nook, and both seemed shrunken, the blue smoke less dense. I took this as a vaguely good sign, for if our presence there were a result of Luke's state of mind then perhaps the fixation was losing its hold on him.

«Luke?» I said.

He moved up to the bar beside me.

«Yeah?» he answered.

«You know you're on a trip, don't you?»

«I don't… I'm not sure what you mean,» he said.

«When Mask had you prisoner I think he slipped you some acid,» I said. «Is that possible?»

«Who's Mask?» he asked me.

«The new head honcho at the Keep.»

«Oh, you mean Sharu Garrul,» he said. «I do remember that he had on a blue mask.»

I saw no reason to go into an explanation as to why Mask wasn't Sharu. He'd probably forget, anyway. I just nodded and said, «The boss.»

«Well… yes, I guess he could have given me something,» he replied. «You mean that all this…?» He gestured toward the room at large.

I nodded.

«Sure, it's real,» I said. «But we can transport ourselves into hallucinations. They're all real somewhere. Acid'll do it.»

«I'll be damned,» he said.

«I gave you some stuff to bring you down,» I told him. «But it may take a while.»

He licked his lips and glanced about.

«Well, there's no hurry,» he said. Then he smiled as a distant screaming began and the demons started in doing nasty things to the burning woman off in the mural. «I kind of like it here.»

I placed the folded weapon back upon the bartop. Luke rapped on the surface beside it and called for another round of brews. I backed away, shaking my head.

«I've got to go now,» I told him. «Someone's still after me, and he just came close.»

«Animals don't count,» Luke said.

«The one I just chopped up does,» I answered. «It was sent.»

I looked at the broken doors, wondering what might come through them next. Fire Angels have been known to hunt in pairs.

«But I've got to talk to you…,» I continued.

«Not now,» he said, turning away.

«You know it's important.»

«I can't think right,» he answered.

I supposed that had to be true, and there was no sense trying to drag him back to Amber or anywhere else. He'd just fade away and show up here again. His head would have to clear and his fixation dissipate before we could discuss mutual problems.

«You remember that your mother is a prisoner in Amber?» I asked.

«Yes.»

«Call me when you've got your head together. We have to talk.»

«I will.»

I turned away and walked out the doors and into a bank of fog. In the distance I heard Luke begin singing again, some mournful ballad. Fog is almost as bad as complete darkness when it comes to shadow-shifting. If you can't see any referents while you're moving, there is no way to use the ability, that allows you to slip away. On the other hand, I just wanted to be alone for a time to think,

Now my head was clear. If I couldn't see anybody in this stuff, nobody could see me either. And there were no sounds other than my own footfalls on a cobbled surface.

So what had I achieved? When I was awakened from a brief nap to attend Luke's unusual sending to Amber, I'd been dead tired following extraordinary exertions. I was transported into his presence, learned that he was tripping, fed him something I hoped would bring him off it sooner, hacked up a Fire Angel, and left Luke back where he had started.

I'd gotten two things out of it, I mused, as I strolled through the cottony mist: I'd stalemated Luke in any designs he might still have upon Amber. He was now aware that his mother was our prisoner, and I couldn't see him bringing any direct action against us under the circumstances. Aside from the technical problems involved in transporting Luke and keeping him in one place, this was the reason I was willing to leave him as I just had. I'm sure Random would have preferred him unconscious in a cell in the basement, but I was certain he would settle for a defanged Luke at large; especially so, when it was likely that Luke would be getting in touch with us sooner or later regarding Jasra. I was willing to let him come down and come around in his own good time. I had problems of my own in the waiting room, like Ghostwheel, Mask, Vinta… and the new specter which had just taken a number and a seat.

Maybe it had been Jasra who had been using the homing power of the blue stones to send assassins after me. She had the ability as well as a motive. It could also have been Mask, though, who I'd judge had the ability and who seemed to have a motive, though I didn't understand it. Jasra was out of the way now, however; and while I intended to have things out with Mask eventually, I believed that I had succeeded in detuning myself from the blue stones. I also believed that I might have scared Mask somewhat in our recent encounter at the Keep. Whatever, it was extremely unlikely that Mask or Jasra, whatever their powers, would have had access to a trained Fire Angel. No, there's only one place Fire Angels come from, and shadow-sorcerers aren't on the customer list.

A puff of wind parted the fog for a moment and I caught sight of dark buildings. Good. I shifted. The fog moved again almost immediately, and they were not buildings but dark rock formations. Another parting and a piece of dawn or evening sky came into view, a foam of bright stars spilled across it. Before too long a wind whipped the fog away and I saw that I walked in a high rocky place, the heavens a blaze of starry light bright enough to read by. I followed a dark trail leading off to the edge of the world…

The whole business with Luke, Jasra, Dalt, and Mask was somehow of a piece - completely understandable in some places and clouded in others. Given some time and legwork it would all hang together. Luke and Jasra seemed to be nullified now. Mask, an enigma of sorts; seemed to have it in for me personally but did not appear to represent any particular threat to Amber. Dalt, on the other hand, did, with his fancy new weaponry - but Random was aware of this situation and Benedict was back in town. So I was confident that everything possible was being done to deal with this.

I stood at the edge of the world and looked down into a bottomless rift full of stars. My mountain did not seem to grace the surface of a planet. However, there was a bridge to my left, leading outward to a dark, star-occluding, shape - another floating mountain, perhaps. I strolled over and stepped out onto the span. Problems involving atmosphere, gravitation, temperature, meant nothing here, where I could, in a sense, make up reality as I went along. I walked out onto the bridge, and for a moment the angle was right and I caught a glimpse of another bridge on the far side of the dark mass, leading off to some other darkness.

I halted in the middle, able to see along it for a great distance in either direction. It seemed a safe and appropriate spot. I withdrew my packet of Trumps and riffled through them until I located one I hadn't used in a long, long time.

I held it before me and put the others away, studying the blue eyes and the young, hard, slightly sharp features beneath a mass of pure white hair. He was dressed all in black, save for a bit of white collar and sleeve showing beneath the glossy tight-fitting jacket. He held three dark steel balls in his gloved hand.

Sometimes it's hard to reach all the way to Chaos, so I focused and extended, carefully, strongly. The contact came almost immediately. He was seated on a balcony beneath a crazily stippled sky, the Shifting Mountains sliding to his left. His feet were propped on a small floating table and he was reading a book. He lowered it and smiled faintly.

«Merlin,» he said softly. «You look tired.»

I nodded.

«You look rested,» I said.

«True,» he answered, as he closed the book and set it on the table. Then, «There is trouble?» he asked.

«There is trouble, Mandor.»

He rose to his feet.

«You wish to come through?»

I shook my head. «If you have any Trumps handy for getting back, I'd rather you came to me.»

He extended his hand.

«All right,» he said.

I reached forward, our hands clasped; he took a single step and stood beside me on the bridge. We embraced for a moment and then he turned and looked out and down into the rift.

«There is some danger here?» he asked.

«No. I chose this place because it seems very safe.»

«Scenic, too,» he replied. «What's been happening to you?»

«For years I was merely a student, and then a designer of certain sorts of specialized machinery,» I told him. «Things were pretty uneventful until fairly recently. Then all hell broke loose - but most of it I understand, and much of it seems under control. That part's complicated and not really worth your concern.»

He rested a hand on the bridge's side-piece: «And the other part?» he asked.

«My enemies up until this point had been from the environs of Amber. But suddenly, when it seemed that most of that business was on its way to being settled, someone put a Fire Angel on my trail. I succeeded in destroying it just a little while ago. I've no idea why, and it's certainly not an Amber trick.»

He made a clicking noise with his lips as he turned away, paced a few steps, and turned back.

«You're right, of course,» he said. «I'd no idea it had come anywhere near this, or I'd have spoken with you some time ago. But let me differ with you as to orders of importance before I indulge in certain speculations on your behalf. I want to hear your entire story.»

«Why?»

«Because you are sometimes appallingly naive, little brother, and I do not yet trust your judgment as to what is truly important.»

«I may starve to death before I finish,» I answered. Smiling crookedly, my step-brother Mandor raised his arms. While Jurt and Despil are my half brothers, borne by my mother, Dara, to Prince Sawall the Rim Lord, Mandor was Sawall's son by an earlier marriage. Mandor is considerably older than I, and as a result he reminds me much of my relatives back in Amber. I'd always felt a bit of an outsider among the children of Dara and Sawall. In that Mandor was - in a more stable sense - not part of that particular grouping either, we'd had something in common. But whatever the impulse behind his early attentions, we'd hit it off and become closer, I sometimes think, than full blood brothers. He had taught me a lot of practical things over the years, and we had had many good times together.

The air was distorted between us, and when Mandor lowered his arms a dinner table covered with embroidered white linen came into sudden view between us, soundlessly, followed a moment later by a pair of facing chairs. The table bore numerous covered dishes, fine china, crystal, silverware; there was even a gleaming ice bucket with a dark twisted bottle within it.

«I am impressed,» I stated.

«I've devoted considerable time to gourmet magic in recent years,» he said. «Pray, be seated.»

We made ourselves comfortable there on the bridge between two darknesses. I muttered appreciatively as I tasted, and it was some minutes before I could begin a summary of the events that had brought me to this place of starlight and silence.

Mandor listened to my entire tale without interruption, and when I'd finished he nodded and said, «Would you care for another serving of dessert?»

«Yes,» I agreed. «It's quite nice.»

When I glanced up a few moments later, I saw that he was smiling.

«What's funny?» I asked.

«You,» he replied. «If you recall, I told you before you left for that place to be discriminating when it came to giving your trust.»

«Well? I told no one my story. If you're going to lecture me on being friendly with Luke without learning his, I've already heard it.»

«And what of Julia?»

«What do you mean? She never learned…»

«Exactly. And she seems like one you could have trusted. Instead, you turned her against you.»

«All right! Maybe I used bad judgment there, too.»

«You designed a remarkable machine, and it never occurred to you it might also become a potent weapon. Random saw that right away. So did Luke. You might have been saved from disaster on that front only by the fact that it became sentient and didn't care to be dictated to.

«You're right. I was more concerned with solving technical problems. I didn't think through all the consequences.

He sighed.

«What am I going to do with you, Merlin? You take risks when you don't even know you're taking risks.»

«I didn't trust Vinta,» I volunteered.

«I think you could have gotten more information out of her,» he said; «if you hadn't been so quick to save Luke, who already appeared to be out of danger. She seemed to be loosening up considerably at the end of your dialogue.»

«Perhaps I should have called you.»

«If you encounter her again, do it, and I'll deal with her.»

I stared. He seemed to mean it.

«You know what she is?»

«I'll unriddle her,» he said, swirling the bright orange beverage in his glass. «But I've a proposal for you, elegant in its simplicity. I've a new country place, quite' secluded, with all the amenities. Why not return to the Courts with me rather than bouncing around from hazard to hazard? Lie low for a couple of years, enjoy the good life, catch up on your reading. I'll see that you're well protected. Let everything blow over, then go about your business in a more peaceful climate.»

I took a small sip of the fiery drink.

«No,» I said. «What happened to those things you indicated earlier that you knew and I didn't?»

«Hardly important, if you accept my offer.»

«Even if I were to accept, I'd want to know.»

«Bag of worms,» he said.

«You listened to my story. I'll listen to yours.»

He shrugged and leaned back in his chair, looked up at stars.

«Swayvill is dying,» he said.

«He's been doing that for years.»

«True, but he's gotten much worse. Some think it has, to do with the death curse of Eric of Amber. Whatever; I really believe he hasn't much longer.»

«I begin to see…»

«Yes, the struggle for the succession has become more intense. People have been falling over left and right poison, duels, assassinations, peculiar accidents, dubious suicides. A great number have also departed for points unknown. Or so it would seem.»

«I understand, but I don't see where it concerns me.»

«One time it would not have.»

«But?»

«You are not aware that Sawall adopted you, formally, after your departure?»

«What?»

«Yes. I was never certain as to his exact motives. But you are a legitimate heir. You follow me but take precedente over Jurt and Despil.»

«That would still leave me way in hell down on the list.»

«True,» he said slowly. «Most of the interest lies at the top…»

«You say ‘most.’»

«There are always exceptions,» he answered. «You must realize that a time such as this is also a fine occasion for the paying off of old debts. One death more or less hardly rouses an eyebrow the way it would have in more placid times. Even in relatively high places.»

I shook my head as I met his eyes.

«It really doesn't make sense in my case,» I said. He continued to stare untll I felt uncomfortable. «Does it?» I finally asked.

«WeIl…» he said. «Give it some thought.»

I did. And just as the notion came to me, Mandor nodded as if he viewed the contents of my mind. «Jurt,» he said, «met the changing times with a mixture of delight and fear. He was constantly talking of the latest deaths and of the elegance and apparent ease with which some of them were accomplished. Hushed tones interspersed with a few giggles. His fear and his desire to increase his own capacity for mischief finally reached a point where they became greater than his other fear-»

«The Logrus…»

«Yes. He finally tried the Logrus, and he made it through.»

«He should be feeling very good about that. Proud. It was something he'd wanted for years.»

«Oh, yes,» Mandor answered. «And I'm sure he felt a great number of other things as well.»

«Freedom,» I suggested. «Power,» and as I studied his half amused expression, I was forced to add, «and the ability to play the game himself.»

«There may be hope for you,» he said. «Now, would you care to carry that through to its logical conclusion?»

«Okay,» I responded, thinking of Jurt's left ear as I floated away following my cut, a swarm of blood-bead: spreading about it. «You think Jurt sent the Fire Angel.

«Most likely,» he replied. «But would you care to pursue that a little further?»

I thought of the broken branch piercing Jurt's eyeball as we wrestled in the glade…

«All right,» I said. «He's after me. It could be a part of the succession game, because I'm slightly ahead of him; on that front, or just plain dislike and revenge - or both.»

«It doesn't really matter which,» Mandor said, «in terms of results. But I was thinking of that crop-eared wolf that attacked you. Only had one eye, too, it seemed…»

«Yes,» I said. «What does Jurt look like these days?»

«Oh, he's grown about half the ear back. It's pretty ragged and ugly-looking. Generally, his hair covers it. The eyeball is regenerated, but he can't see out of it yet. He usually wears a patch.»

«That might explain recent developments,» I said., «Hell of a time for it, though, with everything else that's been going on. Muddies the waters considerably.»

«It's one of the reasons I suggest you simply drop out; and let everything cool down. Too busy. With as many arrows as there seem to be in the air, one may well find» your heart.»

«I can take care of myself, Mandor.» «You could have fooled me.»

I shrugged, got up, walked over to the rail, and looked down at the stars.

After a long while he called out to me, «Have you got any better ideas?» but I didn't answer him because I was thinking about that very matter. I was considering what Mandor had said about my tunnel' vision and lack of preparedness and had just about concluded that he was right, that in nearly everything that had happened to me: up to this point - with the exception of my going after Jasra - I had mainly been responding to circumstance. I had been far more acted upon than acting. Admittedly, it had all happened very quickly. But still, I had not formed any real plans for covering myself, learning about my enemies or striking back. It seemed that there were some things I might be doing…

«If there is that much to worry about,» he said, «you are probably better off playing it safe.»

He was probably right, from the standpoints of reason, safety, caution. But he was strictly of the Courts, while I possessed an additional set of loyalties in which he did not participate. It was possible - if only through my connection with Luke - that I might be able to come up with some personal course of action that would further the security of Amber. So long as such a chance existed, I felt obliged to pursue matters. And beyond this, from a purely personal standpoint, my curiosity was too strong to permit me to walk away from the unanswered questions which abounded when I could be actively seeking some answers.

As I was considering how I might best phrase these matters in my reply to Mandor, I was again acted upon. I became aware of a faint feeling of inquiry, as of a cat scratching at the doors of my mind. It grew in force, thrusting aside other considerations, until I knew it as a Trump sending from some very distant place. I guessed that it might be from Random, anxious to discover what had transpired since my absence from Amber. So I made myself receptive, inviting the contact.

«Merlin, what's the matter?» Mandor asked, and I raised my hand to indicate I was occupied. At that, I saw him place his napkin upon the tabletop and rise to his feet.

My vision cleared slowly and I beheld Fiona, looking stern, rocks at her back, a pale green sky above her.

«Merlin,» she said. «Where are you?»

«Far away,» I answered. «It's' a long story. What's going on? Where are you?»

She smiled bleakly.

«Far away,» she replied.

«We seem to have chosen very scenic spots,» I observed. «Did you pick the sky to complement your hair?»

«Enough!» she said. «I did not call you to compare travel notes.»

At that moment Mandor came up aside me and placed his hand upon my shoulder, which was hardly in keeping with his character; as it is considered a gauche thing to do when a Trump communication is obviously in progress - on the order of intentionally picking up an extension phone and breaking in on someone's call. Nevertheless…

«My! My!» he said. «Will you please introduce me, Merlin?»

«Who,» Fiona asked, «is that?»

«This is my brother Mandor,» I told her, «of the House of Sawall in the Courts of Chaos. Mandor; this is my Aunt Fiona, Princess of Amber.»

Mandor bowed.

«I have heard of you, Princess,» he said. «It is indeed a pleasure.»

Her eyes widened for a moment.

«I know of the house,» she replied, «but I'd no idea of Merlin's relationship with it. I am pleased to know you.»

«I take it there's some problem, Fi?» I asked.

«Yes,» she answered, glancing at Mandor.

«I will retire,» he said. «Honored to have met you, Princess. I wish you lived a bit nearer the Rim.»

She smiled.

«Wait,» she said. «This does not involve any state secrets. You are an initiate of the Logrus?»

«I am,» he stated.

«…And I take it you two did not get together to fight a duel?»

«Hardly,» I answered.

«In that case, I would welcome his view of the problem, also. Are you willing to come to me, Mandor?» He bowed again, which I thought was hamming it a bit.

«Anyplace, Madam,» he responded.

She said, «Come then,» and she extended her left hand and I clasped it. Mandor reached out and touched her wrist. We stepped forward.

We stood before her in the rocky place. It was breezy and a bit chill there. From somewhere distant there came a muted roar, as of a muffled engine.

«Have you been in touch with anyone in Amber recently?» I asked her.

«No,» she stated.

«Your departure was somewhat abrupt.»

«There were reasons.»

«Such as your recognizing Luke?»

«His identity is known to you now?»

«Yes.»

«And to the others?»

«I told Random,» I answered, «and Flora.»

«Then everyone knows,» she said. «I departed quickly and took Bleys with me because we had to be next on Luke's list. After all, I tried killing his father and almost succeeded. Bleys and I were Brand's closest relatives, and we'd turned against him.»

She turned a penetrating gaze upon Mandor, who smiled.

«I understand,» he stated, «that right now Luke drinks with a Cat, a Dodo, a Caterpillar, and a White Rabbit. I also understand that with his mother a prisoner in Amber he is powerless against you.»

She regarded me again.

«You have been busy,» she said. «I try.»

«…So that it is probably safe for you to return,» Mandor continued.

She smiled at him, then glanced at me.

«Your brother seems well informed,» she observed.

«He's family, too,» I said, «and we've a lifelong habit of looking out for each other.»

«His life or yours?» she asked.

«Mine,» I replied. «He is my senior.»

«What are a few centuries this way or that?» Mandor offered.

«I thought I felt a certain maturity of spirit,» she noted. «I've a mind to trust you further than I'd intended.»

«That's very sporting of you,» he replied, «and I treasure the sentiment…»

«…But you'd rather I didn't overdo it?»

«Precisely.»

«I've no intention of testing your loyalties to home and throne,» she said, «on such short acquaintance. It does concern both Amber and the Courts, but I see no conflict in the matter.»

«I do not doubt your prudence. I merely wanted to make my position clear.»

She turned back toward me.

«Merlin,» she said then, «I think you lied to me.»

I felt myself frowning as I tried to recall an occasion when I might have misled her about something. I shook my head.

«If I did,» I told her, «I don't remember.»

«It was some years ago,» she said, «when I asked you to try walking your father's Pattern.»

«Oh,» I answered, feeling myself blush and wondering whether it was apparent in this strange light.

«You took advantage of what I had told you - about the Pattern's resistance,» she continued. «You pretended it was preventing you from setting your foot upon it. But there was no visible sign of the resistance, such as there was when I tried stepping onto it.»

She looked at me, as if for confirmation. «So?» I said.

«So,» she replied, «it has become more important now than it was then, and I have to know: Were you faking it that day?»

«Yes,» I said.

«Why?»

«Once I took one step upon it,» I explained, «I'd have been committed to walking it. Who knows where it might have led me and what situation might have followed? I was near the end of my holiday and in a hurry to get back to school: I didn't have time for what might have turned into a lengthy expedition. Telling you there were difficulties seemed the most graceful way of begging off.»

«I think there's more to it than that,» she said.

«What do you mean?»

«I think Corwin told you something about it that the rest of us do not know - or that he left you a message. I believe you know more than you let on concerning the thing.»

I shrugged.

«Sorry, Fiona. I have no control over your suspicions,» I said: «Wish I could be of more help.»

«You can,» she replied.

«Tell me how.»

«Come with me to the place of the new Pattern. I want you to walk it.»

I shook my head.

«I've got a lot more pressing business,» I told her, «than satisfying your curiosity about something my dad did years ago.»

«It's more than just curiosity,» she said. «I told you once before that I think it's what is behind the increased incidence of shadow storms.»

«And I gave you a perfectly good reason for something; else being the cause. I believe it's an adjustment to they partial destruction and recreation of the old Pattern.»

«Would you come this way?» she asked, and she turned from me and began to climb.

I glanced at Mandor, shrugged, and followed her. He came along.

We mounted toward a jagged screen of rock. She reached it first and made her way onto a lopsided ledge which ran partway along it. She traversed this until she came to a place where the rock wall had broken down into a wide V-shaped gap. She stood there with her back to us then, the light from the green sky doing strange things to her hair.

I came up beside her and followed the direction of her gaze. On a distant plain, far below us and to the left, a large black funnel spun like a top. It seemed the source of the roaring sound we had been hearing. The ground; appeared to be cracked beneath it. I stared for several minutes, but it did not change in form or position. Finally, I cleared my throat.

«Looks like a big tornado,» I said, «not going anyplace.»

«That's why I want you to walk the new Pattern,» she' told me. «I think it's going to get us unless we get it first.»

Chapter 3

If you had a choice between the ability to detect falsehood and the ability to discover truth, which one would you take? There was a time when I thought they were different ways of saying the same thing, but I no longer believe that. Most of my relatives, for example, are almost as good at seeing through subterfuge as they are at perpetrating it. I'm not at all sure, though, that they care much about truth: On the other hand, I'd always felt there was something noble, special, and honorable about seeking truth - a thing I'd attempted with Ghostwheel. Mandor had made me wonder, though. Had this made me a sucker for truth's opposite?

Of course, it's not as cut and dried as all that. I know that it is not a pure. either/or situation with the middle excluded, but is rather a statement of attitude. Still, I was suddenly willing to concede that I might have gone to an extreme - to the point of foolhardiness - and that I had let certain of my critical faculties doze for far too long.

So I wondered about Fiona's request.

«What makes it such a threat?» I asked her.

«It is a shadow storm in the form of a tornado,» she said.

«There have been such things before,» I answered. «True,» she responded, «but they tend to move through Shadow. This one does have extension through an area of Shadow, but it is totally stationary. It first appeared several days ago, and it has not altered in any way since then.»

«What's that come to in Amber-time?» I asked.

«Half a day, perhaps. Why?»

I shrugged. «I don't know. Just curious,» I said. «I still don't see why it's a threat.»

«I told you that such storms had proliferated since Corwin drew the extra Pattern. Now they're changing in character as well as frequency. That Pattern has to be understood soon.»

A moment's quick reflection showed me that whoever gained control of Dad's Pattern could become master of some terrible forces. Or mistress.

So, «Supposing I walk it» I said. «Then what? As I understand it from Dad's story, I'd just wind up in the middle, the same as with the Pattern back home. What's; to be learned from that?»

I studied her face for some display of emotion, but my' relatives tend to have too much control for such simple self-betrayal.

«As I understand it,» she said, «Brand was able to trump in when Corwin was at the middle.»

«That's the way I understand it, too.»

«…So, when you reach. the center, I can come in on a Trump.»

«I suppose so. Then there will be two of us standing at the middle of the Pattern.»

«…And from there we will be in a position to go someplace we could not reach from any other point in existence.»

«That being?» I asked.

«The primal Pattern which lies behind it.»

«You're sure there is one?»

«There must be. It is in the nature of such a construct to be scribed at a more basic level of reality as well as the mundane.»

«And our purpose in traveling to that place?»

«That is where its secrets dwell; where its deepest magics might be learned.»

«I see,» I told her. «Then what?»

«Why, there we might learn how to undo the trouble the thing is causing,» she answered.

«That's all?»

Her eyes narrowed.

«We will learn whatever we can, of course. Power is power, and represents a threat until it is understood.»

I nodded slowly.

«But right now there are a number of powers that are more pressing in the threat department,» I said. «That Pattern is going to have to wait its turn.»

«Even if it may represent the forces you need to deal with your other problems?» she asked.

«Even so,» I said. «It might turn into a lengthy enterprise, and I don't believe I have the time for that.»

«But you don't know that for certain.»

«True. But once I set foot on it, there's no turning back.»

I did not add that I'd no intention of taking her to the primal Pattern, then leaving her there on her own. After all, she had tried her hand at king-making once. And if Brand had made it to the throne of Amber in those days, she would have been standing right behind him, no matter what she had to say about it now. I think she was about to ask me to deliver her to the primal Pattern then but realized that I'd already considered it and rejected it. Not wanting to lose face by asking and being refused, she returned to her original argument.

«I suggest you make time now,» she said, «if you do not wish to see worlds torn up about you.»

«I didn't believe you the first time you told me that,» I answered, «and I don't believe you now. I still think the increased shadow-storm activity is probably an adjustment to the damage and repair of the original Pattern. I also think that if we mess around with a new Pattern we don't know anything about, we stand a chance of making things worse, not better-»

«I don't want to mess around with it,» she said. «I want to study-»

The Sign of the Logrus flashed between us suddenly. She must have seen it or felt it somehow, too, because she drew back at the same instant I did.

I turned my head with sure knowledge as to what I would see.

Mandor had mounted the battlementlike wall of stone. He stood as still as if he were a part of it, his arm, upraised. I suppressed my first impulse, which was to shout to him to stop. He knew what he was doing. And I was certain that he would not pay me the slightest heed, anyway.

I advanced to the notch in which he had taken his position, and I looked past him at the swirling thing on the cracked plain far below. Through the image of the Logrus, I felt the dark, awful rush of power that Suhuy had revealed to me in his final lesson. Mandor was calling upon it now and pouring it into the shadow-storm. Did he not realize that the force of Chaos he was unleashing must spread until it had run a terrible course? Could he not see that if the storm were indeed a manifestation of Chaos then he was turning it into a truly monstrous thing?

It grew larger. Its roaring increased in volume. It became frightening to watch it.

From behind me, I heard Fiona gasp.

«I hope you know what you're doing,» I called to him.

«We'll know in about a minute,» he replied, lowering his arms.

The Sign of the Logrus winked out before me.

We watched the damned thing spin for some time, bigger and noisier.

Finally, «What have you proved?» I asked him.

«That you have no patience,» he answered.

There was nothing particularly instructive to the phenomenon, but I continued to watch it anyway:

Abruptly, the sound became a stutter. The dark apparition jerked about' suddenly, shaking off bits of accumulated debris as it contracted. Soon it was restored to its former size, and it hit its earlier pitch and the sound grew steady once more.

«How did you do that?» I asked him.

«I didn't,» he said. «It adjusted itself.»

«It shouldn't have,» Fiona stated.

«Exactly,» he replied.

«You've lost me,» I said.

«It should have gone roaring right on, stronger than ever, after he'd augmented it that way,» Fiona said. «But whatever is controlling it had other plans. So it was readjusted.»

«…And it is a Chaos phenomenon,» Mandor continued. «You could see that in the way it drew upon Chaos when I provided the means. But that pushed it past some limit, and there was a correction. Someone is playing with the primal forces themselves out there. Who or what or why, I cannot say. But I think it's strong testimony that the Pattern isn't involved. Not with Chaos games. So Merlin is probably correct. I think that this business has its origin elsewhere.»

«All right,» Fiona conceded. «All right. What does that leave us with?»

«A mystery,» he said. «But hardly, I think, an imminent threat.»

A faint firefly of an idea flitted through my mind. It could easily be dead wrong, though that was not the reason I decided against sharing it. It led into an area of thought I could not explore in an instant, and I don't like giving away pieces of things like that.

Fiona was glaring at me now, but I maintained a bland expression. Abruptly then, seeing that her cause was fruitless, she decided to change the subject:

«You said that you left Luke under somewhat unusual circumstances. Just where is he now?»

The last thing I wanted to do was to get her really mad at me. But I couldn't see fuming her loose on Luke in his present condition. For all I knew, she might actually be up to killing him, just as a form of life insurance. And I did not want Luke dead. I'd a feeling he might be undergoing something of a change of attitude, and I wanted to give him every break I could. We still owed each other a few, even though it was hard keeping score; and there is something to be said for old times' sake Considering what I'd judged his condition to be when I'd left him, it was going to be a while before he was in decent shape again. And then I had a number of things I wanted to talk to him about.

«Sorry,» I said. «He's my province at the moment.»

«I believe I have some interest in the matter,» she replied levelly.

«Of course,» I said, «but I feel that mine is greater and that we may get in each other's ways.»

«I can judge these things for myself,» she said.

«Okay,» I told her. «He's on an acid trip. Any inforormation you'd get out of him might be colorful, but it would also be highly disappointing.»

«How did this happen?» she asked.

«A wizard named Mask apparently slipped him some chemicals when he had him prisoner.»

«Where was this? I've never heard of Mask.»

«A place called the Keep of the Four Worlds,» I told her.

«It's been a long time since I heard the Keep mentioned,» she said. «A sorcerer named Sharu Garrul used to hold it.»

«He's a coatrack now,» I stated.

«What?»

«Long story; but Mask has the place these days.»

She stared at me, and I could tell she was just realizing that there was a lot she didn't know in the way of recent developments. I'd judge she was deciding which of several obvious questions to ask next when I decided to beat her to the punch while she was still off balance.

«So how's Bleys?» I asked.

«He's much improved. I treated him myself and he's recovering quickly.»

I was about to ask her where he was, which I knew she would refuse to answer, and hopefully we would both smile when she saw what I was driving at: no address for Bleys, no address for Luke; we keep our secrets and stay friends.

«Hello!» I heard Mandor say, and we both turned in the direction he was facing - back out through the notch.

The dark tornado-form had collapsed to half its former size, and even as we watched, it continued to diminish. It fell steadily in upon itself, shrinking and shrinking, and in about a half minute it was gone, completely.

I could not suppress a smile, but Fiona did not even notice. She was looking at Mandor.

«Do you think it was because of what you did?» she asked him.

«I have no way of knowing,» he replied, «but it may well be.»

«But does it tell you anything?» she said.

«Perhaps whoever was responsible did not like having me tinker with his experiment.»

«You really believe there's an intelligence behind it?»

«Yes.»

«Someone from the Courts?»

«It seems more likely than someone from your end of the world.»

«I suppose so…,» she agreed. «Have you any guesses as to the person's identity?»

He smiled.

«I understand,» she said quickly. «Your business is your business. But a general threat is everybody's business. That's what I was really getting at.»

«True,» he acknowledged. «This is why I propose investigating it. I'm at loose ends at the moment. It might be amusing.»

«It is awkward asking you to communicate your findings to me,» she said, «when I do not know what interests might be involved.»

«I appreciate your position,» he replied, «but to the best of my knowledge the treaty provisions still hold and no one in the Courts is promoting any special designs against Amber. In fact… If you like, we might pursue the matter together, at least part of the way.»

«I've got the time,» she said.

«I don't,» I injected quickly. «I've some pressing business to attend to.»

Mandor shifted his attention to me.

«About my offer…,» he said.

«I can't,» I told him.

«Very well. Our conversation is not concluded, however. I'll be in touch later.»

«Okay.»

Fiona looked my way then, also.

«You will keep me posted on Luke's recovery, and his intentions,» she stated.

«Of course.»

«Good day, then.»

Mandor gave me a small half salute and I returned. it.

I began walking then, and as soon as I was out of sight I began shifting.

I found my way to a rocky slope, where I halted at withdrew my Trump for Amber. I raised it, focused my awareness, and transported myself as soon as I felt my way through. I was hoping the main hall would be empty, but at this point I didn't really care that much.

I came through near Jasra, who was holding an extra cloak over her outstretched left arm. I ducked out the doorway to my left into an empty corridor and made my way to the back stair. Several times I heard voices and I detoured to avoid the speakers. I was able to make it to my rooms without being discovered.

The only rest I had had in what seemed an age and a half had been a fifteen-minute nap before Luke's spaced-out sorcerous faculty had caused him to summon me to the Looking Glass Bar via a hallucinatory Trump. When? For all I knew, it could have been yesterday - which had been a very full day before that incident.

I barred the door and staggered to the bed, flinging myself down upon it without even removing my boots. Sure, there were all sorts of things I should be doing, but I was in no condition for any of them. I'd returned home because I still felt safest in Amber; despite the fact that Luke had reached me here once.

Someone with a high-powered subconscious might have had a brilliantly revelatory dream following as much crap as I'd been through recently, and then have awakened with a wonderful series of insights and answers detailing appropriate courses of action. I didn't. I woke once, in a small panic, not knowing where I was. But I opened my eyes and satisfied myself on that count, then went back to sleep. Later - much later, it seemed - I returned by degrees, like some piece of flotsam being pushed higher and higher onto a beach by wave following wave, until finally I was there. I saw no reason for going any further until I realized that my feet hurt. Then I sat up and pulled my boots off, which might have been one of the six greatest pleasures in my life. I removed my socks in a hurry then and threw them into the corner of the room. Why doesn't anyone else in my line of work seem to get sore feet? I filled the basin and soaked them for a time, then resolved to go barefoot for the next few hours.

Finally I rose, stripped, cleaned up, and put on a pair of Levi's and a purple flannel shirt of which I am fond. The hell with swords, daggers, and cloaks for a time. I opened the shutters and looked outside. It was dark. Because of clouds, I couldn't even guess from the stars whether it might be early evening, late night, or almost morning.

It was very quiet in the hall, and there were no sounds as I made my way down the back stair. The kitchen was deserted also, the big fires banked and smoldering low. I didn't want to stir things up beyond hanging a pot of water to warm for tea while I located some bread and fruit preserves. I turned up a jug of something like grapefruit juice, too, in one of the walk-in ice boxes.

As I sat warming my feet and working my way through the loaf, I began to feel uneasy. I was sipping my tea before I realized what it was. There seemed a great necessity that I be doing something, yet I had no idea what. Now I had something of a breather, and it felt strange. So I decided to start thinking again.

By the time I'd finished eating, I had a few small plans. The first thing I did was to make my way to the main halt, where I removed all of the hats and cloaks form Jasra and swept her off her feet. Later, as I was bearing her stiff form along the upstairs hallway in the direction of my room, a door opened partway and a bleary-eyed Droppa watched me go by.

«Hey, I'II take two!» he tailed after me. «Reminds me of any first wife,» he added then, and closed the door.

Once I had her installed in my quarters, I drew up a chair and seated myself before her. Garishly clad as part of a savage joke, her hard sort of beauty was not really diminished. She had placed me in extreme peril on one occasion, and I had no desire to free her at a time like this for a possible repeat performance. But the spell that held her claimed my attention for more than one reason and I wanted to understand it fully.

Carefully then, I began exploring the construct which held her. It was not overcomplicated, but I could see that tracing all of its byways was going to take a while. All right. I wasn't about to stop now. I pushed on ahead into the spell, taking mental notes as I went.

I was busy for hours. After I had solved the spell, I decided to hang some more of my own, times being what they were. The castle came awake about me as I worked. I labored steadily as the day progressed, until everything was in place and I was satisfied with my work. I was also famished.

I moved Jasra off into a corner, pulled on my boots, departed my quarters, and headed for the stair. In that it seemed about lunchtime I checked out the several dining rooms in which the family generally ate. But all of them were deserted and none of them were set up for a meal yet to come. Nor did any of them show signs of a meal having recently been dispatched.

I suppose it was possible my time sense was, still skewed and I was much too late or too early; but it did seem that it had been daylight long enough to bring me into the vicinity of the proper hour. Nobody, however, seemed to be eating, so something had to be wrong with this assumption…

Then I heard it - the faint click of cutlery upon plate. I headed in the apparent direction of the sound. Obviously, the meal was taking place in a less frequented setting than usual. I turned right, then left. Yes, they had decided to set up in a drawing room. No matter.

I entered the room, whew Llewella was seated with Random's wife, Vialle, on the red divan, dinner laid on a low table before them. Michael, who worked in the kitchen, stood nearby behind a cart loaded with dishes. I cleared my throat.

«Merlin,» Vialle announced with a sensitivity that always gives me a small chill-she being completely blind. «How pleasant!»

«Hello,» Llewella said. «Come and join us. We're anxious to hear what you've been doing.»

I drew a chair up to the far side of the table and seated myself. Michael came over and laid a fresh setting before me. I thought about it quickly. Anything Vialle heard would doubtless get back to Random. So I gave them a somewhat edited version of recent events - leaving out all references to Mandor, Fiona, and anything having to do with the Courts. It made for a considerably shorter story and let me get to my food sooner.

«Everybody's been so busy lately,» Llewella remarked when I'd finished talking. «It almost makes me feel guilty.»

I studied the delicate green of her more-than-olive complexion; her full lips, her large catlike eyes.

«But not quite,» she added.

«Where are they all, anyway?» I asked.

«Gerard,» she said, «is down seeing to harbor fortifications, and Julian is in command of the army, which has now been equipped with some firearms and is set to defend the approaches to Kolvir.».

«You mean Dalt has something in the field already? Coming this way?»

She shook her head. «No, it was a precautionary measure,» she replied, «because of that message from Luke. Dalt's force had not actually been sighted.»

«Does anyone even know where he is?» I asked…

«Not yet,» she answered, «but we're expecting some intelligence on that soon.» She shrugged. Then, «Perhaps Julian already has it,» she added.

«Why is Julian in command?» I asked between nibbles. «I'd have thought Benedict would take charge of something like this.»

Llewella looked away, glancing at Vialle, who seemed to feel the shifting of focus.

«Benedict and a small force of his men have escorted Random to Kashfa,» Vialle said, softly.

«Kashfa?» I said: «Why would he want to do that? In fact, Dalt usually hangs out around Kashfa. The area could be dangerous right now.»

She smiled faintly.

«That is why he wanted Benedict and his guard for escort,» she said. «They may even be the intelligence-gathering expedition themselves, though that's not their reason for going right now.»

«I don't understand,» I said, «why the trip should be necessary at all.»

She took a sip of water.

«A sudden political upheaval,» she replied: «Some general had taken over in the absence of the queen and the crown prince: The general was just assassinated recently, and Random has succeeded in obtaining agreement for placing his own candidate - an older nobleman on the throne.»

«How'd he do that?»

«Everyone with an interest in the matter was even more interested in seeing Kashfa admitted to the Golden Circle of privileged trade status.»

«So Random bought them off to see his own man in charge,» I observed. «Don't these Golden Circle treaties usually give us the right to move troops through a client kingdom's territory with very little in the way of preliminaries?»

«Yes,» she said.

I suddenly recalled that tough - looking emissary of the Crown I'd met at Bloody Bill's, who had paid his tab in Kashfan currency. I decided I did not really want to know how close in point of time that was to the assassination that had made this recent arrangement possible. What struck me with more immediate force was the picture that now emerged: It looked as if Random had just blocked Jasra and Luke from recovering their usurped thronewhich, to be fair, I guess Jasra had usurped herself, years ago. With all that usurping going on, the equities of the thing were more than a little hazy to me. But if Random's ethics were no better than those which had gone before, they were certainly no worse. It looked now, though, as if any attempt on the part of Luke to regain his mother's throne would be met by a monarch who possessed a defense alliance with Amber. I suddenly felt willing to bet that the terms of the defense provisions of the alliance included Amber's assistance in internal troubles as well as help against outside aggressors.

Fascinating. It sounded as if Random were going to an awful lot of trouble to isolate Luke from his power base and any semblance of legitimacy as a head of state. I supposed the next step could be to get him outlawed as a pretender and a dangerous revolutionary, and to put a price on his head. Was Random overreacting? Luke didn't seem all that dangerous now, especially with his mother in our custody. On the other hand, I didn't really know how far Random intended to go: Was he just foreclosing all of the threatening options, or was he actually out to get Luke? The latter possibility bothered me in that Luke seemed on halfway good behavior at the moment and possibly in the throes of reconsidering his position. I did not want to see him needlessly thrown to the wolves as a result of overkill on Random's part.

So, «I suppose this has a lot to do with Luke,» I said to Vialle.

She was silent for a moment, then replied, «It was Dalt that he seemed concerned about.»

I shrugged mentally. It seemed that it would come down to the same thing in Random's mind, since he would see Dalt as the military force Luke would turn to to recover the throne. So I said, «Oh,» and went on eating.

There were no new facts to be had beyond this, and nothing to clarify Random's thinking any further, so we lapsed into small talk while I considered my position once again. It still came down to a feeling that urgent action was necessary and uncertainty as to what form it should take. My course was determined in an unexpected fashion sometime during dessert.

A courtier named Randel - tall, thin, dark, and generally smiling - came into the room. I knew something was up because he was not smiling and he was moving faster than usual. He swept us with his gaze, fixed upon Vialle, advanced quickly and cleared his throat.

«M'lady Majesty…?» he began.

Vialle turned her head slightly in his direction:

«Yes, Randel?» she said. «What is it?»

«The delegation from Begma has just arrived,» he answered, «and I find myself without instructions as to the nature of their welcome and any special arrangements that would be suitable.»

«Oh dear» Vialle said; laying aside her fork. «They weren't due until the day after tomorrow, when Random will be back. He's the one they'll be wanting to complain to. What have you done with them?»

«I seated them in the Yellow Room,» he replied, «and told them I would go and announce their arrival.»

She nodded.

«How many of them are there?»

«The prime minister, Orkuz,» he said, «his secretary, Nayda - who is also his daughter - and another daughter, Coral. There are also four servants - two men and two women.»

«Go and inform the household staff, and be sure that appropriate quarters are made ready for them,» she directed, «and alert the kitchen. They may not have had lunch.»

«Very good, Your Highness,» he said, beginning to back away.

«…Then report to me in the Yellow Room, to let me know it's been done,» she continued, «and I'll give you additional instruictions at that time.»

«Consider it done,» he replied, and he hurried off.

«Merlin, Llewella,» Vialle said, beginning to rise, «come help me entertain them while arrangements are being made.»

I gulped my last bite of dessert and got to my feet: I did not really feel like talking to a diplomat and his party, but I was handy and it was one of life's little duties.

«Uh… What are they here for, anyway?» I asked.

«Some sort of protest over what we've been doing in Kashfa,» she replied. «They've never been friendly with Kashfa, but I'm not sure now whether they're here to protest Kashfa's possible admission to the Golden Circle or whether they're upset about our interfering in Kashfa's domestic affairs. It could be they're afraid they'll lose business with such a close neighbor suddenly enjoying the same preferred trade status they have. Or it may be they had different plans for Kashfa's throne and we just foreclosed them. Maybe. both. Whatever… We can't tell them anything we don't know.»

«I just wanted to know what subjects to avoid,» I said. «All of the above» she answered.

«I was wondering the same thing myself,» Llewella said. «I was also wondering, though, whether they might have any useful information on Dalt. Their intelligence service must keep a close eye on doings in and about Kashfa.»

«Don't pursue that topic,» Vialle said, moving toward the door. «If they let something slip or want to give something away, fine. Bring it home. But don't show them you'd like. to know.»

Vialle took my arm and I guided her out, heading toward the Yellow Room. Llewella produced a small mirror from somewhere and inspected her features. Obviously pleased, she put it away, then remarked, «Lucky you showed up, Merlin. An extra smiling face is always useful at times like this.»

«Why don't I feel lucky?» I said.

We made our way to the room where the prime minister and his daughters waited. Their servants had already retired to the kitchen for refreshments. The official party was still hungry, which says something about protocol, especially since it seemed to take a long while before some trays of provender could be attractively assembled. Orkuz was of medium stature and stocky, his black hair tastefully streaked, the lines on his broad face seeming to indicate that he did a lot more frowning than smiling - a practice in which he indulged most of the while that afternoon. Nayda's was a more pleasingly sculpted version of his face, and though she showed the same tendency toward corpulence, it was held firmly in check at an attractive level of roundedness. Also, she smiled a lot and she had pretty teeth. Coral, on the other hand, was taller than either her father or sister, slender, her hair a reddish brown. When she smiled it seemed less official. Also, there was something vaguely familiar about her. I wondered whether I had met her at some boring reception years before. If I had, though, I felt I might have remembered.

After we had been introduced and wine had been poured, Orkuz made a brief comment to Vialle about «recent distressing news» concerning Kashfa. Llewella and I quickly moved to her side for moral support, but she simply said that such matters would have to be dealt with fully upon Random's return, and that for the moment she wished merely to see to their comfort. He was completely agreeable to this, even to the point of smiling. I had the impression he just wanted the purpose of his visit on the record immediately. Llewella quickly fumed the conversation to the matter of his journey, and he graciously allowed the subject to be changed. Politicians are wonderfully programmed.

I learned later that the Begman ambassador wasn't even aware of his arrival, which would seem to indicate that Orkuz had come so quickly he had preceded any notification to their embassy. And he hadn't even bothered dropping in there, but had come straight to the palace and had a message sent over. I leanned this a little later, when he asked to have the message delivered. Feeling somewhat supernumerary to Llewella's and Vialle's graceful cascades of neutral talk, I dropped back a pace to plan my escape. I was not at all interested in whatever game was being set up.

Coral backed off also and sighed. Then she glanced at me and smiled, surveyed the room quickly and came closer.

«I've always wanted to visit Amber,» she said then.

«Is it the way you imagined it?» I asked.

«Oh, yes. So far. Of course, I haven't seen that much of it yet…

I nodded, and we withdrew a little farther from the others.

«Have I met you somewhere before?» I asked.

«I don't think so,» she said. «I haven't traveled that much, and I don't believe you've been out our way. Have you?»

«No, though I've grown curious about it recently.»

«I do know something of your background, though,» she went on, «just from general gossip. I know you're from the Courts of Chaos; and I know you went to school on that Shadow world you Amberites seem to visit so frequently. I've often wondered what it was like.»

I took the bait and I began telling her about school and my job, about a few places I'd visited and things I'd enjoyed doing. We made our way to a sofa across the room as I spoke, and we got more comfortable. Orkuz, Nayda, Llewella, and Vialle didn't seem to miss us, and if I had to be here I found talking with Coral more enjoyable, than listening to them. Not to monopolize things, though, I asked her about herself.

She began telling me of a girlhood spent in and around Begma, of her fondness for the outdoors - of horses and of boating on the many lakes and rivers in that region - of books she had read, and of relatively innocent dabblings in magic. A member of the household staff came in just as she was getting around to a description of some interesting rites performed by members of the local farming community to insure the fertility of the crops, and she approached Vialle and told her something. Several more staff members were in view outside the doorway. Vialle then said something to Orkuz and Nayda, who nodded and moved toward the entrance. Llewella departed the group and. came our way.

«Coral,» she said, «your suite is ready. One of the staff will show you where it is. Perhaps you'd like to freshen up or rest after your journey.»

We got to our feet.

«I'm not really tired,» Coral said, looking at me rather than Llewella, a hint of a smile at the corners of her mouth.

What the hell. I suddenly realized I had been enjoying her company, so, «If you'd care to change into something simpler,» I said, «I'll be glad to show you a bit of the town. Or the palace.»

It became a full smile worth seeing.

«I'd much rather do that,» she said.

«Then I'll meet you back here in about half an hour,» I told her.

I saw her out, and accompanied her and the others as far as the foot of the big stairway. In that I still had on my Levi's and purple shirt, I wondered whether I should change into something more in keeping with local fashion. The hell with it, I decided then. We were just going to be knocking around. I'd simply add my swordbelt and weapons, a cloak, and my best boots. Might trim my beard, though, since I had a little time. And maybe a quick manicure…

«Uh, Merlin…»

It was Llewella, her hand on my elbow, steering me toward an alcove. I allowed myself to be steered.

Then, «Yes?» I said. «What's up?»

«Hm…,» she said. «Kind of cute, isn't she?»

«I suppose so,» I replied.

«You got the hots for her?»

«Jeez, Llewella! I don't know: I just met the lady.»

«…And made a date with her.»

«Come on! I deserve a break today. I enjoyed talking with her. I'd like to show her around a bit. I think we'd have a good time. What's wrong wish that?»

«Nothing,» she answered, «so long as you keep things in perspective.»,

«What perspective did you have in mind?»

«It strikes me as faintly curious,» she said, «that Orkuz brought along his two good-looking daughters.»

«Nayda is his secretary,» I said, «and Coral's wanted to see the place for some time.»

«Uh-huh, and it would be a very good thing for Begma if one of them just happened to latch onto a member of the family.»

«Llewella, you' too damned suspicious,» I said.

«It comes of having lived a long time.»

«Well, I hope to live a long time myself, and I hope it doesn't make me look for an ulterior motive in every human act.»

She smiled. «Of course. Forget I said anything,» she told me, knowing I wouldn't. «Have a good time.» I growled politely and headed for my room.

Chapter 4

And so, in the midst of all manner of threats, intrigues, menaces, and mysteries, I decided to call a holiday and stroll about town with a pretty lady. Of all possible choices I might have made, it was certainly the most atractive. Whoever the enemy, whatever the power I faced, the ball was now in its court. I had no desire to hunt for Jurt, duel with Mask, or follow Luke about until he came down and told me whether or not he still wanted the family's scalps. Dalt was not my problem, Vinta was me, Ghostwheel was silent, and the matter of my father's Pattern could await my leisure. The sun was shining and the breeze was, gentle, though these could change quickly at this season. It was a shame to waste what could well be the year's last good day on anything less than enjoyment. I hummed as I repaired myself, and I headed downstairs early for our meeting.

Coral had moved more quickly than I'd guessed, however, and was waiting for me. I approved of her sensible dark green breeches, heavy coppery shirt, and warm brown cloak. Her boots looked fine for walking, and she had on a dark hat that covered most of her hair. There were gloves and a dagger at her belt.

«All ready,» she said when she saw me.

«Great,» I replied, smiling, and I led her out into the hallway.

She started to turn in the direction of the main doorway, but I led her off to the right, then later to the left.

«Less conspicuous to use one of the side doors,» I said.

«You people are certainly secretive,» she said.

«Habit,» I replied. «The less that outsiders know of your business the better.»

«What outsiders? What are you afraid of?»

«Just now? A great number of things. But I don't really want to spend a nice day like this making lists.»

She shook her head in what I took to be a mixture of awe and disgust.

«It's true what they say then?» she asked. «That your affairs are so complex you all carry scorecards?»

«Haven't had time for any affairs recently,» I told her, «or even a simple score.» Then, «Sorry,» I added, when I saw her blush. «Life has been a bit complicated for me lately.»

«Oh,» she said, glancing at me, clearly asking for elaboration.

«Some other time,» I said, forcing a laugh, flipping my cloak, and greeting a guard.

She nodded and, diplomatically, changed the subject:

«I guess I came at the wrong time of year to see your famous gardens.»

«Yeah, they've pretty much had it for the season,» I said, «except for Benedict's Japanese garden which kind of far out back. Perhaps we can go and have a cup of tea there one day, but I thought we'd go into town now.»

«Sounds fine,» she agreed.

I told the postern guard to tell Henden, Amber's steward, that we were heading into town and weren't sure when we'd be back. He said that he would as soon as he got off duty, which would be pretty soon. My experience at Bloody Bill's had taught me the lesson of leaving such messages - not that I thought we were in any danger; or that Llewella's knowing wouldn't be sufficient.

Leaves crunched beneath our feet as we took one of the walks toward a side gate. With only a few strands of cirruis high overhead, the sun shone brightly. To the west, a flock of dark birds flapped its way toward the ocean, south.

«It's already snowed back home,» she told me. «You're lucky.»

«There's a warm current that gives us a break,» I said, remembering something Gerard had once told me. «It moderates the climate considerably; compared to other places at equal latitude.»

«You travel a lot?» she asked me.

«I've been traveling more than I care to,» I said, «recently. I'd like to sit down and go to seed for about a year.»

«Business or pleasure?» she asked me, as a guard let us out the gate and I quickly surveyed the environs for lurkers.

«Not pleasure,» I answered as I took her elbow for a moment and steered her toward the way I had chosen. When we reached civilized precincts, we followed the Main Concourse for a time. I pointed out a few landmarks and notable residences, including the Begman Embassy. She showed no inclination to visit the latter, though, saying she'd have to see her countrymen officially before she left, anyway. She did stop in a shop we found later, however, to buy a couple of blouses, having the bill sent to the embassy and the garments to the palace.

«My father promised me some shopping,» she explained. «And I know he'll forget. When he hears about this, he'll know that I didn't.»

We explored the streets of the various trades and stopped for a drink at a sidewalk cafe, watching pedestrians and horsemen pass. I had just turned toward her to relate an anecdote concerning one of the riders when I felt the beginning of a Trump contact. I waited for several seconds as the feeling grew stronger, but no identity took shape beyond the reaching. I felt Coral's hand upon my arm.

«What's the matter?» she asked.

I reached out with my mind, attempting to assist in the contact, but the other seemed to retreat as I did so. It was not the same as that lurking scrutiny when Mask had regarded me at Flora's place in San Francisco, though. Could it just be someone I knew trying to reach me and having trouble focusing? Injured, perhaps? Or-

«Luke?» I said. «Is that you?»

But there was no response and the feeling began to fade. Finally, it was gone.

«Are you all right?» Coral asked.

«Yeah, it's okay,» I said. «I guess. Someone tried to reach me and then decided otherwise.»

«Reach? Oh, you mean those Trumps you use?»

«Yes.»

«But you said `Luke'…» she mused. «None of your family is named-»

«You might know him as Rinaldo, Prince of Kashfa,» I said.

She chuckled.

«Rinny? Sure I know him. He didn't like us to call him Rinny, though…»

«You really do know him? Personally, I mean?»

«Yes,» she replied, «though it's been a long time. Kashfa's pretty close to Begma. Sometimes we were on good terms, sometimes not so good. You know how it is. Politics. When I was little there were long spells when we were pretty friendly. There were lots of state visits, both ways. We kids would often get dumped together.»

«What was he like in those days?»

«Oh, a big, gawky, red-haired boy. Liked to show off a lot - how strong he was, how fast he was. I remember how mad he got at me once because I beat him in a footrace.»

«You beat Luke in a race?»

«Yes. I'm a very good runner.»

«You must be.»

«Anyway, he took Nayda and me sailing a few times, and on some long hikes. Where is he now, anyway?»

«Drinking with a Cheshire cat.»

«What?»

«It's a long story:»

«I'd like to hear it. I've been worried about him since the coup.»

Mm… I thought quickly about how to edit this so as not to tell the daughter of the Begman prime minister any state secrets, such as Luke's relationship to the House of Amber… So, «I've known him for quite some time,» I began. «He recently incurred the wrath of a sorcerer who drugged him and saw him banished to this peculiar bar…»

I went on for a long while then, partly because I had to stop and summarize Lewis Carroll. I also had to promise her the loan of one of the Thari editions of Alice from the Amber library. When I finally finished, she was laughing.

«Why don't you bring him back?» she said then.

Ouch. I couldn't very well say that his shadow-shifting abilities would work against this until he came down. So, «It's part of the spell; it's working on his own sorcerous ability,» I said. «He can't be moved till the drug wears off.

«How interesting;» she observed. «Is Luke really a sorcerer himself?»

«Uh… yes,» I said.

«How did he gain that ability? He showed no signs of it when I knew him.»

«Sorcerers come by their skills in various ways,» I explained. «But you know that,» and I suddenly realized that she was smarter than that smiling, innocent expression indicated. I'd a strong feeling she was trying to steer this toward an acknowledgment of Pattern magic on Luke's part, which of course would say interesting things about his paternity. «And his mother, Jasra, is something of a sorceress herself.»

«Really? I never knew that.» Damn! Coming and going…

«Well, she'd learned it somewhere»

«What about his father»

«I can't really say,» I replied.

«Did you ever meet him?»

«Only in passing,» I said.

A lie could make the matter seem really important if she had even a small idea as to the truth. So I did the only other thing I could think of. There was no one seated at the table behind her, and there was nothing beyond the table but a wall. I wasted one of my spells, with an out of sight gesture and a single mutter.

The table flipped over as it flew back and crashed against the wall. The noise was spectacular. There were loud exclamations from several other patrons, and I leaped to my feet.

«Is everyone all right?» I said, looking about as if for casualties.

«What happened?» she asked me.

«Freak gust of wind or something,» I said. «Maybe we'd better be moving on.»

«All right,» she said, regarding the debris. «I'm not looking for trouble.»

I tossed some coins onto our table, rose, and headed back outside, talking the while of anything I could think of to put some distance between us and the subject. This had the desired effect, because she did not attempt to retrieve the question.

Continuing our stroll, I headed us in the general direction of West Vine. When we reached it I decided to head downhill to the harbor, recalling her fondness for sailing. But she put her hand on my arm and halted me.

«Isn't there a big stairway up the face of Kolvir?» she asked. «I believe your father once tried to sneak troops up it and got caught and had to fight his way along.»

I nodded. «Yes, that's true,» I said. «Old thing. It goes way back. It's not used very much these days. But it's still in decent shape.»

«I'd like to see it.»

«All right.»

I turned to the right and we headed back, uphill, toward the Main Concourse. A pair of knights wearing Llewella's livery passed us, headed in the other direction, saluting as they went by. I could not help but wonder whether they were on a legitimate errand or were following some standing order to keep an eye on my movements. The thought must have passed through Coral's mind, also, because she quirked an eyebrow at me. I shrugged and kept going. When I glanced back a bit later, they were nowhere to be seen.

We passed people in the garb of a dozen regions as we strolled, and the air was filled with the smells of cooking from open stalls, to satisfy a multitude of tastes. At various points in our career up the hill, we stopped for meat pies, yogurts; sweets. The stimuli were too overpowering for any but the most sated to ignore.

I noticed the lithe way she moved about obstacles. It wasn't just gracefulness. It was more a state of beingpreparedness, I guess. Several times I noticed her glancing back in the direction from which we had come. I looked myself, but there was nothing unusual to see. Once, when a man stepped suddenly from a doorway we were approaching, I saw her hand flash toward the dagger at her belt, then drop away.

«There is so much activity, so much going on here…,» she commented after a time.

«True. Begma is less busy; I take it?»

«Considerably.»

«Is it a pretty safe place to stroll about?»

«Oh, yes.»

«Do the women as well as the men take military training there?»

«Not ordinarily. Why?»

«Just curious.»

«I've had some training in armed and unarmed combat though,» she said.

«Why was that?» I asked.

«My father suggested it. Said it could come in hand for a relative of someone in his position. I thought he might be right. I think he really wanted a son.»

«Did your sister do it, too?»

«No; she wasn't interested.»

«You planning on a diplomatic career?»

«No. You're talking to the wrong sister.»

«A wealthy husband?»

«Probably stodgy and boring.»

«What then?»

«Maybe I'll tell you later.»

«All right. I'll ask if you don't.»

We made our way southward along the Concourse, and the breezes picked up as we neared Land's End. It was a winter ocean that came into view across the distance; slate-gray and white-capped. Many birds wheeled far out over the waves, and one very sinuous dragon.

We passed through the Great Arch and came at last to the landing and looked downward. It was a vertiginous prospect, out across a brief, broad stair - the steep drop to the tan-and-black beach far below. I regarded the ripples in the sand left by the retreating tide, wrinkles in an old man's brow. The breezes were stronger here, and the damp, salty smell, which had been increasing as we approached, seasoned the air to a new level of intensity. Coral drew back for a moment, then advanced again.

«It looks a little more dangerous than I'd thought,» she said, after a time. «Probably seems less so once you're on it.»

«I don't know,» I replied.

«You've never climbed it?»

«Nope,» I said. «Never had any reason to.»

«I'd think you'd have wanted to, after your father's doomed battle along it.»

I shrugged: «I get sentimental in different ways.» She smiled.

«Let's climb down to the beach. Please.»

«Sure,» I said, and we moved forward and started. The broad stair took us down for perhaps thirty feet, then terminated abruptly where a much narrower version turned off to the side. At least the steps weren't damp and slippery: Somewhere far below, I could see where the stair widened again, permitting a pair of people to go abreast. For now, though, we moved single file, and I was irritated that Coral had somehow gotten ahead of me.

«If you'll scrunch over, I'll go past,» I told her.

«Why?» she asked…

«So I can be ahead of you in case you slip.»

«That's all right,» she replied. «I won't.»

I decided it wasn't worth arguing and let her lead:

The landings where the stairway switched back were haphazard affairs, hacked wherever the contours of the, rock permitted such a turning. Consequently, some descending stretches were longer than others and our route wandered all over the face of the mountain. The winds were much stronger now than they were above, and we found ourselves staying as close to the mountain's side as its contours permitted. Had there been no wind, we probably would have done the same. The absence of any sort of guard railing made us shy back from the edge. There were places where the mountain's wall overhung us for a cavelike effect; other places, we followed a bellying of the rock and felt very exposed. My cloak blew up across my face several times and I cursed, recalling that natives seldom visit historical spots in their own neighborhoods. I began to appreciate their wisdom. Coral was hurrying on ahead, and I increased my pace to catch up with her. Beyond her, I could see that there was a landing which signaled the first turning of the way. I was hoping she'd halt there and tell me she'd reconsidered the necessity for this expedition. But she didn't. She turned and kept right on going. The wind stole my sigh and bore it to some storybook cave reserved for the plaints of the imposed-upon.

Still, I couldn't help but look down upon occasion; and whenever I did I thought of my father fighting his way up along these steps. It was not something I'd care to try - at least, not until I'd exhausted all of the more sneaky alternatives. I began to wonder how far we were below the level of the palace itself…

When we finally came to the landing from which the stairway widened, I hurried to catch up with Coral so that we could walk abreast. In my haste, I snagged my heel and stumbled as I rounded the turn. It was no big deal… I was able to reach out and stabilize myself against the cliff s face as I jolted forward and swayed. I was amazed, though, at Coral's perception of my altered gait just on the basis of its sound, and by her reaction to it. She cast herself backward suddenly and twisted her body to the side. Her hands came in contact with my arm as she did this, and she thrust me to the side, against the rock.

«. All right!» I said, from rapidly emptying lungs. «I'm okay.»

She rose and dusted herself off as I recovered.

«I heard-» she began.

«I gather. But I just caught my heel: That's all.»

«I couldn't tell.»

«Everything's fine. Thanks.»

We starred down the stair side by side, but something was changed. I now harbored a suspicion I did not like but could not dispel. Not yet, anyway. What I had in mind was too dangerous, if I should prove correct.

So instead, «The rain in Spain stays mainly in the plain,» I said.

«What?» she asked. «I didn't understand…»

«I said, `It's a fine day to be walking with a pretty lady.»

She actually blushed.

Then, «What language did you say it in… the first time.

«English,» I replied.

«I've never studied it. I told you that when we were talking about Alice.»

«I know. Just being whimsical,» I answered.

The beach, nearer now, was tiger-striped and shiny in places. A froth of foam retreated along its slopes while birds cried and dipped to examine the waves' leavings. Sails bobbed in the offing, and a small curtain of rain rippled in the southeast, far out at sea. The winds had ceased their noise-making, though they still came upon us with cloak-wrapping force.

We continued in silence until we had reached the bottom. We stepped away then, moving a few paces onto the sand.

«The harbor's in that direction,» I said, gesturing to my right, westward, «and there's a church off that way,» I added, indicating the dark building where Caine's service had been held and where seamen sometimes came to pray for safe voyages.

She looked in both directions and also glanced behind us and upward.

«More people headed down,» she remarked.

I looked back up and saw three figures near the top of the stairway, but they were standing still, as if they'd only come down a short distance to try the view. None of them wore Lleweila's colors…

«Fellow sightseers,» I said.

She watched them a moment longer, then looked away. «Aren't there caves along here somewhere?» she asked.

I nodded to my right.

«That way,» I answered. «There's a whole series. People get lost in them periodically. Some are pretty colorful. Others just wander through darkness. A few are simply shallow openings.»

«I'd like to see them,» she said.

«Sure, easily done. Let's go.».

I began walking. The people on the stair had not moved. They still appeared to be looking out to sea. I doubted they were smugglers. It doesn't seem like a daytime occupation for a place where anyone might wander by. Still, I was pleased that my faculty for suspicion was growing. It seemed appropriate in light of recent events: The object of my greatest suspicion, of course, was walking beside me, turning driftwood with the toe of her boot, scuffing bright pebbles, laughing - but there was nothing I was ready to do about it at the moment. Soon…

She took my arm suddenly.

«Thanks for bringing me,» she said. «I'm enjoying this.»

«Oh, I am, too. Glad we came. You're welcome.»

This made me feel slightly guilty, but if my guess were wrong no harm would be done.

«I think I would enjoy living in Amber,» she remarked as we went along.

«Me, too,» I replied. «I've never really done it for any great length of time.»

«Oh?»

«I guess I didn't really explain how long I'd spent on the shadow Earth where I went to school, where I had that job I was telling you about…,» I began, and suddenly I was pouring out more autobiography to her - a thing I don't usually do. I wasn't certain why I was telling it at first, and then I realized that I just wanted someone to talk to. Even if my strange suspicion was correct, it didn't matter. A friendly-seeming listener made me feel better than I had in a long while. And before I realized it, I was telling her about my father - how this man I barely knew had rushed through a massive story of his struggles, his dilemmas, his decisions, as if he were trying to justify himself to me, as if that were the only opportunity he might have to do it, and how I had listened, wondering what he was editing, what he had forgotten, what he might be glossing over or dressing up, what his feelings were toward me…

«Those are some of the caves,» I told her, as they interrupted my now embarrassing indulgence in memory. She started to say something about my monologue, but I simply continued; «I've only seen them once.»

She caught my mood and simply said «I'd like to go inside one.»

I nodded. They seemed a good place for what I had in mind.

I chose the third one. Its mouth was larger than the first two, and I could see back into it for a good distance. «Let's try that one. It looks well lighted,» I explained. We walked into a shadow-hung chill. The damp sand followed us for a while, thinning only slowly to be replaced by a gritty stone floor. The roof dipped and rose several times. A turn to the left joined us with the passage of another opening, for looking back along it I could see more light. The other direction led more deeply into the mountain. We could still feel the echoing pulse of the sea from where we stood.

«These caves could lead back really far,» she observed.

«They do,» I replied. «They twist and cross and wind. I wouldn't want to go too far without a map and a light. They've never been fully charted, that I know of.»

She looked about, studying areas of blackness within the darkness where side tunnels debouched into our own.

«How far back do you think they go?» she inquired.

«I just don't know.»

«Under the palace?»

«Probably,» I said, remembering the series of side tunnels I'd passed on my way to the Pattern. «It seems possible they ' cut into the big caves below itsomewhere.»

«What's it like down there?».

«Under the palace? Just dark and big. Ancient…»

«I'd like to see it.»

«Whatever for?»

«The Pattern's down there. It must be pretty colorful.»

«Oh, it is all bright and swirly. Rather intimidating, though.»

«How can you say that when you've walked it?»

«Walking it and liking it are two different things.»«

«I'd just thought that if it were in you to walk it, you'd feel some affinity, some deep resonant kinship with it.»

I laughed, and the sounds echoed about us.

«Oh, while I was walking it I knew it was in me to do it,» I said. «I didn't feel it beforehand, though. I was just scared then. And I never liked it.»

«Strange.»

«Not really. It's like the sea or the night sky. It's big' and it's powerful and it's beautiful and it's there. It's a natural force and you make of it what you will.»

She looked back along the passageway leading inward.

«I'd like to see it,» she said.

«I wouldn't try to find my way to it from here,» I told her. «Why do you want to see it, anyhow?» '

«Just to see how I'd respond to something like that»

«You're strange,» I said.

«Will you take me when. we go back? Will you show it to me?»

This was not going at all the way I'd thought it would: If she were what I thought, I didn't understand the request. I was half tempted to take her to it, to find out what she had in mind. However, I was operating under a system of priorities, and I'd a feeling she represented one concerning which I'd made myself a promise and some elaborate preparations.

«Perhaps,» I mumbled.

«Please. I'd really like to see it.»

She seemed sincere. But my guess felt near-perfect.

Sufficient time had passed for that strange body-shifting spirit, which had dogged my trail in many forms, to have; located a new host and then to have zeroed in on me again and be insinuating itself into my good graces once more. Coral was perfect for the role, her arrival appropriately timed, her concern for my physical welfare manifest, her reflexes fast. I'd have liked to keep her around for questioning, but I knew that she would simply lie to me in the absence of proof or an emergency situation. And I did not trust her. So I reviewed the spell I had prepared and hung on my way home from Arbor House, a spell I had designed to expel a possessing entity from its host. I hesitated a moment, though. My feelings toward her were ambivalent. Even if she were the entity, I might be willing to put up with her if I just knew her motive.

So, «What is it that you want?» I asked.

«Just to see it. Honestly,» she answered.

«No, I mean that if you are what I think you really are, I'm asking the big question: Why?»

Frakir began to pulse upon my wrist.

Coral was silent for the space of an audible deep breath, then, «How could you tell?»

«You betrayed yourself in small ways discernible only to one who has recently become paranoid,» I responded.

«Magic,» she said. «Is that it?»

«It's about to be,» I replied. «I could almost miss you, but I can't trust you.»

I spoke the guide words to the spell, letting them draw my hands smoothly through the appropriate gestures. There followed two horrible shrieks, and then a third.

But they weren't hers. They came from around the corner in the passageway we had recently quitted.

«What-?» she began.

«-the hell!» I finished; and I rushed past her and rounded the corner, drawing my blade as I went.

Backlighted by the distant cavemouth I beheld three figures on the floor of the cave. Two of them were sprawled and unmoving. The third was seated and bent forward,, cursing. I advanced slowly, the point of my weapon directed toward the seated one. His shadowy head turned in my direction, and he climbed to his feet, still bent forward. He clutched his left hand with his right, and he backed away until he came into contact with the wall.

He halted there, muttering something I could not quite hear. I continued my cautious advance, all of my senses alert. I could hear Coral moving at my back, then I glimpsed her accompanying me on my left when the passage widened. She had drawn her dagger, and she held it low and near to her hip. No time now to speculate as to what my spell might have done to her.

I halted as I came to the first of the two fallen forms. I prodded it with the toe of my boot, ready to strike instantly should it spring into an attack. Nothing. It felt limp, lifeless. I used my foot to turn it over, and the head rolled back in the direction of the cavemouth. In the light that then fell upon it I beheld a half-decayed human face. My nose had already been informing me that this state was no mere illusion. I advanced upon the other one and turned him, also. He, too, bore the appearance of a decomposing corpse. While the first one clutched a dagger in his right hand, the second was weaponless. Then I noted another dagger - on the floor, near the live man's feet. I raised my eyes to him. This made no sense whatsoever. I'd have judged the two figures upon the floor to have been dead for several days, at least, and I had no idea as to what the standing man had been up to.

«Uh… Mind telling me what's going on?» I inquired.

«Damn you, Merlin!» he snarled, and I recognized the voice.

I moved in a slow arc, stepping over the fallen ones. Coral stayed near to my side, moving in a similar fashion. He turned his head to follow our progress, and when the light finally fell upon his face, I saw that Jurt was glaring at me out of his one good eye - a patch covered the other - and I saw, too, that about half of his hair was missing, the exposed scalp covered with welts or scars, his half-regrown ear-stub plainly visible. From this side I could also see that a bandana suitable for covering most of this damage had slipped down around his neck. Blood was dripping from his left hand, and I suddenly realized that his little finger was missing.

«What happened to you?» I asked.

«One of the zombies hit my hand with his dagger as he fell,» he said, «when you expelled the spirits that animated them.»

My spell - to evict a possessing spirit… They had been within range of it…

«Coral,» I asked, «are you all right?»

«Yes,» she replied. «But I don't understand…»

«Later,» I told her.

I did not ask him about, his head, as I recalled my struggle with the one-eyed werewolf in the wood to the east of Amber - the beast whose head I had forced into the campfire. I had suspected for some time that it had been Jurt in a shape-shifted form, even before Mandor had offered sufficient information to confirm it.

«Jurt,» I began, «I have been the occasion of many of your ills, but you must realize that you brought them on yourself. If you would not attack me, I would have no need to defend myself-»

There came a clicking, grinding sound. It took me several seconds to realize that it was a gnashing of teeth. «Miy adoption by your father meant nothing to me,» I said, «beyond the fact that he honored me by it. I was not even aware until recently that it had occurred.»

«You lie!» he hissed. «You tricked him some way, to get ahead of us in the succession.»

«You've got to be kidding,» I said. «We're all so far down on the list that it doesn't matter.»

«Not for the Crown, you fool! For the House! Our father isn't all that well!»

«I'm sorry to hear that,» I said. «But I'd never even thought of it that way. And Mandor's ahead of all of us, anyhow.»

«And now you're second.»

«Not by choice. Come on! I'll never see the title. You know that!»

He drew himself upright, and when he moved I became aware of a faint prismatic nimbus that had been clinging to his outline.

«That isn't the real reason,» I continued. «You've never liked me, but you're not after me because of the succession. You're hiding something now. It's got to be something else, for all this activity on your pan. By the way, you did send the Fire Angel, didn't you?»

«It found you that fast?» he said. «I wasn't even sure I could count on that. I guess it was worth the price after all. But… What happened?».

«It's dead.»

«You're very lucky. Too lucky,» he replied.

«What is it that you want, Jurt? I'd like to settle this once and for all.»

«Me, too,» he answered. «You betrayed someone I love, and only your death will set things right.»

«Who are you talking about? I don't understand.»

He grinned suddenly.

«You will,» he said. «In the last moments of your life I'll let you know why.»

«I may have a long wait, then,» I answered. «You don't seem to be very good at this sort of thing: Why not just tell me now and save us both a lot of trouble?»

He laughed, and the prism effect increased, and it occurred to me in that instant what it was.

«Sooner than you think,» he said, «for shortly I will be more powerful than anything you ever met.»

«But no less clumsy,» I suggested, both to him and to whomever held his Tnimp, watching me through it, ready to snatch him away in an instant…

«That is you, Mask, isn't it?» I said. «Take him back. You don't have to send him again either and watch him screw up. I'll promote you on my list of priorities and come calling soon, if you'll just give me an assurance that it's really you.»

Jurt opened his mouth and said something, but I couldn't hear it because he faded fast and his words went away with him. Something flew toward me as this occurred; there was no need to parry it, but I couldn't stop the reflex.

Along with two moldering corpses and Jurt's little finger, a dozen or so roses lay scattered on the floor at my feet, there at the rainbow's end.

Chapter 5

As we walked along the beach in the direction of the harbor, Coral finally spoke:

«Does that sort of thing happen around here very often?»

«You should come by on a bad day,» I said.

«If you don't mind telling me, I'd like to hear what it was all about.»

«I guess I owe you an explanation,» I agreed, «because I wronged you back there, whether you know it or not.»

«You're serious.»

«Yep,»

«Go on. I'm really curious.»

«It's a long story…,» I began again.

She looked ahead to the harbor, then up to Kolvir's heights.

«…A long walk, too,» she said.

«…And you're a daughter of the prime minister of a country with which we have somewhat touchy relations at the moment.»

«What do you mean?»

«Some of the things that are happening may represent kind of sensitive information.»

She put her hand on my shoulder and halted. She stared into my eyes.

«I can keep a secret,» she told me. «After all, you know mine.»

I congratulated myself on having finally learned my relatives' trick of controlling facial expression even when puzzled as all hell. She had said something back in the cave when I had addressed her as if she were the entity, something that sounded as if she believed I had discovered a secret concerning her.

So I gave her a wry smile and nodded.

«Just so,» I said.

«You're not planning on ravaging our country or anything like that, are you?» she asked.

«To my knowledge, no. And I don't think it likely either.»

«Well, then. You can only speak from your knowledge, can't you?»

«True,» I agreed.

«So let's hear the story.»

«All right.»

As we walked along the strand and I spoke, to the accompaniment of the waves' deep notes, I could not help but remember again my father's long narrative. Was it a family trait, I wondered, to go autobiographical at a time of troubles if the right listener turned up? For I realized I was elaborating my telling beyond the bounds of necessity. And why should she be the right listener, anyhow?

When we reached the port district, I realized I was hungry, anyway, and I still had a lot of telling to do. In that it was still daylight and doubtless considerably safer than when I'd made my nighttime visit, I found my way over to Harbor Road - which was even dirtier in strong light - and, having learned that Coral was hungry, too, I took us on around to the rear of the cove, pausing for a few minutes to watch a many-roasted vessel with golden sails round the sea wall and head in. Then we followed the curving way to the western shore, and I was able to locate Seabreeze Lane without any trouble. It was still early enough, that we passed a few sober sailors. At one point a heavy, black-bearded man with an interesting scar on his right cheek began to approach us, but a smaller man caught up with him first and whispered something in his ear. They both fumed away.

«Hey,» I said. «What did he want?»

«Nothin',» the smaller man said. «He don't want nothin'.» He studied me for a moment and nodded. Then, «I saw you here the other night,» he added.

«Oh,» I said, as they continued to the next corner, turned it, and were gone.

«What was that all about?» Coral said.

«I didn't get to that part of the story yet.»

But I remembered it vividly when we passed the place where it had occurred. No signs of that conflict remained.

I almost passed what had been Bloody Bill's, though, because a new sign hung above the door. It read «Bloody Andy's,» in fresh green letters. The place was just the same inside, however, except for the man behind the counter, who was taller and thinner than the shaggy, cragfaced individual who had served me last time. His name, I learned, was Jak, and he was Andy's brother. He sold us a bottle of Bayle's Piss and put in our order for two fish dinners through the hole in the wall. My former table was vacant and we took it. I laid my sword belt on the chair to my right, with the blade partly drawn, as I had been taught etiquette required here.

«I like this place,» she said. «It's… different.»

«Uh… yes,» I agreed, glancing at two passed-out drunks - one to the front of the establishment, one to the rear - and three shifty-eyed individuals conversing in low voices off in one corner. A few broken bottles and suspicious stains were upon the floor, and some not-too-subtle artwork of an amorous nature hung on the far wall. «The food's quite good,» I added.

«I've never been in a restaurant like this,» she continued, watching a black cat, who rolled in from a rear room, wrestling with an enormous rat.

«It has its devotees, but it's a well-kept secret among discriminating diners.»

I continued my tale through a meal even better than the one I remembered. When the door opened much later to admit a small man with a bad limp and a dirty bandage about his head I noticed that daylight was beginning to wane. I had just finished my story and it seemed a good time to be leaving.

I said as much, but she put her hand on mine.

«You know I'm not your entity,» she said, «but if you need any kind of help I can give you, I'll do it.»

«You're a good listener,» I said. «Thanks. We'd better be going now.»

We passed out of Death Alley without, incident and made our way along Harbor Road over to Vine. The sun was getting ready to set as we headed upward, and the cobbles passed through a variety of bright earth tones and fire colors. Street and pedestrian traffic was light. Cooking smells drifted on the air; leaves. rattled along the road;. a small yellow dragon rode the air currents high overhead; curtains of rainbow light rippled high in the north beyond the palace. I kept waiting, expecting more questions from Coral than the few she had asked. They never came. If I'd just heard my story, I think I'd have a lot of questions, unless I were totally overpowered by it or somehow understood it thoroughly.

«When we get back to the palace…?» she said then.

«Yes?»

«…You will take me to see the Pattern, won't you?»

I laughed.

… Or unless something else were occupying my mind.

«Right away? First thing in the door?» I asked.

«Yes.»

«Sure,» I said.

Then, that off her mind, «Your story changes my picture of the world,» she said, «and I wouldn't presume to advise you…»,

«But-» I continued.

«…If seems that the Keep of the Four Worlds, holds the answers you want. Everything else may fall into place when you learn what's going on there. But I don't understand why you can't just do a card for it and trump in.»

«Good question. There are parts of the Courts of Chaos to which no one can trump because they change constantly and cannot be represented in a permanent fashion. The same applies to the place where I situated Ghostwheel. Now, the terrain around the Keep fluctuates quite a bit, but I'm not positive that's the reason for the blockage. The place is a power center, and I think it possible that someone diverted some of that power into a shielding spell. A good enough magician might be able to drill through it with a Trump, but I've a feeling that the force required would probably set off some psychic; alarm and destroy any element of surprise.»

«What does the place look like, anyway?» she asked.

«Well…,» I began. «Here.» I took my notebook and Scripto from my shirt pocket and sketched. «See, all of this area is volcanic.» I scribbled in a few fumaroles and wisps of smoke. «And this part is Ice Age.» More scribbles. «Ocean here, mountains here…»

«Then it sounds as if your best bet is to use the Pattern again,» she said, studying the drawing and shaking her head.

«Yes.»

«Do you think you'll be doing it soon?»

«Possibly.»

«How will you attack them?»

«I'm still working on that.»

«If there's any sort of way that I can help you, I meant what I said.»

«There isn't.»

«Don't be so sure. I'm well trained. I'm resourceful. I even know a few spells.»

«Thanks,» I said. «But no.»

«No discussion?»

«Nope.»

«If you change your mind…»

«I won't.»

«…Let me know.»

We reached the Concourse, moved along it. The winds grew more blustery here and something cold touched my cheek. Then again…

«Snow!» Coral announced, just as I realized that a few middle-sized flakes were drifting past us, vanishing immediately when they hit the ground.

«If your party had arrived at the proper time,» I observed, «you might not have had your walk.»

«Sometimes I'm lucky,» she said.

It was snowing fairly hard by the time we reached the palace grounds. We used the postern gate again, pausing on the walkway to gaze back down over the light-dotted town, half screened by falling flakes. I knew she kept looking longer than I did, because I turned to gaze at her. She appeared happy, I guess - as if she were pasting the scene in a mental scrapbook. So I leaned over and kissed her cheek, because it seemed like a good idea.

«Oh,» she said, fuming to face me. «You surprised me.»

«Good» I told her. «I hate to telegraph these things. Let's get the troops in out of the cold.»

She smiled and took my arm.

Inside, the guard told me, «Llewella wants to know whether you two will be joining them all for dinner.»

«When is dinner?» I asked him.

«In about an hour and a half, I believe.»

I glanced at Coral, who shrugged.

«I guess so,» I said.

«Front dining room, upstairs,» he told me. «Shall I pass the word to my sergeant - he's due by soon - and have him deliver it? Or do you want to-»

«Yes,» I said. «Do that.»

«Care to wash up, change clothes…?» I began, as we walked away.

«The Pattern,» she said.

«It would involve a lot more stairs,» I told her.

She turned toward me, her face tightening, but saw that I was smiling.

«This way,» I said, leading her to the main hall and through it.

I didn't recognize the guard at the end of the brief corridor that led up to the stair. He knew who I was, though, glanced curiously at Coral, opened the door, found us a lantern, and lit it.

«I'm told there's a loose step,» he remarked as he passed me the light.

«Which one is it?» He shook his head.

«Prince Gerard's reported it several times,» he said, «but no one else seems to notice it.»

«Okay,» I said. «Thanks.»

This time Coral didn't object to my going first. Of the two, this was more intimidating than the stairway on the cliff face, mainly because you can't see bottom and after a few paces you can't see much of anything beyond the shell of light within which you move as you wind your way down. And there's a heavy sense of vastness all about you. I've never seen the place illuminated, but I gather that the impression is not incorrect. It's a very big cavern, and you go round and round and down in the middle of it, wondering when you'll reach the bottom.

After a time, Coral cleared her throat, then, «Could we stop for a minute?» she asked.

«Sure,» I said, halting. «Out of breath?»

«No,» she said. «How much farther?»

«I don't know,» I replied. «It seems a different distance each time I come this way. If you want to go back and have dinner, we can see it tomorrow. You've had a busy day.»

«No,» she answered. «But I wouldn't mind your holding me for a minute.»

It seemed an awkward place to get romantic, so I cleverly deduced that there was another reason, said nothing, and obliged.

It took me a long while to realize that she was crying.

She was very good at concealing it.

«What's the matter?» I finally asked.

«Nothing,» she replied. «Nervous reaction, maybe. Primitive reflex. Darkness. Claustrophobia. Like that.»

«Let's go back.»

«No»

So we started down again.

About a half minute later I saw something white near the side of a lower step. I slowed. Then I realized that it was only a handkerchief. A little nearer, however, and I saw that it was held in place by a dagger. Also, there were markings upon it. I halted, reached out, flattened it, and read. «THIS ONE, DAMN IT! - GERARD,» It said.

«Careful here,» I said to Coral.

I prepared to step over it, but on an impulse I tested it lightly with one foot. No squeaks. I shifted more weight onto it. Nothing. It felt fine. I stood on it. The same. I shrugged.

«Careful, anyway,» I said.

Nothing happened when she stepped on it either, and we kept going. A little later, I saw a flicker in the distance below. It was moving, and I guessed someone was doing a patrol. What for? I wondered. Were there prisoners to be tended and watched? Were certain cave mouths considered vulnerable points? And what about the business of locking the chamber of the Pattern and hanging the key on the wall near the door? Was there some possible danger from that quarter? How? Why? I realized that I ought to pursue these questions one of these days.

When we reached the bottom the guard was nowhere in sight, however. The table, the racks, and a few foot lockers - which constituted the guard station - were illuminated by a number of lanterns, but the guard was not at his post. Too bad. It would be interesting to ask what the orders called for in the event of an emergency hopefully also specifying the possible natures of various emergencies. For the first time, though, I noticed a rope hanging down from the darkness into the dimness beside a weapons rack. I drew upon it ever so gently and it yielded, to be followed a moment later by a faint metallic sound from somewhere high overhead. Interesting. Obviously, this was the alarm.

«Which… way?» Coral asked.

«Oh, come on,» I said, taking her hand, and I led her off to the right.

I kept waiting for echoes as we moved, but none came. Periodically, I raised the light. The darkness would recede a bit then, but nothing came into view beyond an additional area of floor.

Coral seemed to be slowing now, and I felt a certain tension in her arm as she hung back. I plodded on and she kept moving, however.

Finally, «It shouldn't be too much longer,» I said, as the echoes began, very faintly.

«Good,» she replied, but she did not increase her pace. At last the gray wall of the cavern came into view, and far off to my left was the dark opening of the tunnel mouth I sought: I changed course and headed toward it. When we finally reached it and entered, I felt her flinch.

«If I'd known it would bother you this much-» I began.

«I'm really all right,» she answered, «and I do want to see it. I just didn't realize that getting there would be this… involved.»

«Well, the worst of it is over. Soon now,» I said.

We came to the first side passage to the left fairly quickly and went on by. There was another shortly thereafter, and I slowed and extended the lantern toward it.

«Who knows?» I commented… «That could take you through some strange route back to the beach.»

«I'd rather not check it out.»

We walked for some time before we passed the third opening. I gave it a quick glance. There was a vein of some bright mineral partway back in it.

I speeded up and she kept pace, our footsteps ringing loudly now. We passed the fourth opening. The fifth… From somewhere, it seemed I heard faint strains of music.

She glanced at me inquiringly when we neared the sixth passageway, but I just kept going. It was the seventh that I wanted, and when we finally came to it I turned, took a few paces, halted, and raised the lantern. We stood before a big metal-bound door.

I took the key down from the hook on the wall to my right, inserting it in the lock, turned it, withdrew it, and rehung it. Then I put my shoulder against the door and pushed hard. There followed a long moment of resistance, then slow movement accompanied shortly by a complaint from a tight hinge. Frakir tightened upon my wrist, but I kept pushing till the door was opened wide. Then I stood to the side and held it for Coral.

She moved a few steps past me into that strange chamber and halted. I stepped away and let the door swing shut, then came up beside her.

«So that's it,» she remarked.

Roughly elliptical, the intricately wound oval form of the Pattern glowed blue-white within the floor. I set the lantern aside. It wasn't really necessary, the glow from the Pattern providing more than sufficient illumination. I stroked Frakir, calming her. A jet of sparks rose at the far end of the great design, subsided quickly, occurred again nearer to us. The chamber seemed filled with a half familiar pulsing I had never consciously noted before. On an impulse - to satisfy a long-held point of curiosity - I summoned the Sign of the Logrus.

This was a mistake.

Immediately the image of the Logrus flared before me, sparks erupted along the entire length of the Pattern, and a high-pitched banshee wail rose from somewhere. Frakir went wild, my ears felt as if icicles had been driven into them, and the brightness of the writhing Sign hurt my eyes. I banished the Logrus in that instant, and the turmoil began to subside.

«What,» she asked me, «was that?»

I tried to smile, didn't quite manage it.

«A little experiment I'd always meant to try,» I told her.

«Did you learn anything from it?»

«Not to do it again, perhaps,» I answered.

«Or at least not till the company's left,» she said. «That hurt.»

She moved nearer to the edge of the Pattern, which had calmed itself again.

«Eerie,» she observed. «Like a light in a dream. But it's gorgeous. And all of you have to walk it to come into your heritage?»

«Yes.» She moved slowly to the right, following its perimeter. I followed her as she strolled, her gaze roving across the bright expanse of arcs and turns, short straight lines, long sweeping curves.

«I assume it is difficult?»

«Yes. The trick is to keep pushing and not to stop trying even if you stop moving,» I replied.

We walked on, to the right, circling slowly around to the rear. The design seemed to be within the floor rather than upon it, seen as through a layer of glass. But nowhere was the surface slippery.

We paused for a minute or so while she took its measure from a new angle.

«So how are you responding to it?» I finally asked.

«Esthetically,» she said.

«Anything else?»

«Power,» she said. «It seems to radiate something.»

She leaned forward and waved her hand above the nearest line. «It's almost a physical pressure,» she added then.

We moved farther, passing along the back length of the grand design. I could see across the Pattern, to the place where the lantern glowed on the floor near to the entranceway. Its light was negligible beside the greater illumination we regarded now.

Shortly, Coral halted again. She pointed.

«What is this single line, which seems to end right here?» she asked.

«It's not the end,» I said. «It's the beginning. That is the place where one commences the walking of the Pattern.»

She moved nearer, passing her hand above it also.

«Yes,» she said after a moment. «I can feel that it starts here.»

For how long we stood there, I am uncertain. Then she reached out, took hold of my hand and squeezed it.

«Thanks,» she said, «for everything.»

I was about to ask her why that had such a final sound about it, when she moved forward and set her foot upon the line.

«No!» I cried. «Stop!»

But it was too late. Her foot was already in place, brightness outlining the sole of her boot.

«Don't move!» I said. «Whatever you do, stay still!» She did as I said, holding her position. I licked my lips, which suddenly seemed very dry.

«Now, try to raise the foot you placed upon the line and draw it back. Can you do it?»

«No,» she replied.

I knelt beside her and studied it. Theoretically, once you'd set foot upon the Pattern there was no turning back. You had no choice but to continue and either make it through or be destroyed somewhere along the way. On the other hand, she should already be dead. Theoretically, again, anyone not of the blood of Amber shouldn't be able to set foot upon it and live. So much for theory.

«Hell of a time to ask,» I said. «But why'd you do it?

«You indicated to me back in the cave that my guess was correct. You said that you knew what I was.»

I recalled what I'd said, but that was with reference to my guess at her being the body-shafting entity. What could she have taken it to mean that had to do with the Pattern? But even as I sought after a spell that might free her from the Pattern's hold, the obvious answer to things drifted into my mind.

«Your connection with the House…?» I said softly.

«King Oberon supposedly had an affair with my mother before I was born,» she said. «The timing would have been right. It was only a rumor, though. I couldn't get anyone to provide details. So I was never certain. But I dreamed of it being true. I wanted it to be true. I hoped to find some tunnel that would bring me to this place. I wanted to sneak in and walk the Pattern and have the shadows unfold before me. But I was afraid, too, because I knew that if I were wrong I would die. Then, when you said what you said, you answered my dream. But I did not stop being afraid. I am still afraid. Only now I'm afraid that I won't be strong enough to make it.»

That sense of familiarity I had felt when I first met her… -… I suddenly realized that it was a general family resemblance that had caused it. Her nose and brow reminded me a bit of Fiona, her chin and cheekbones something of Flora. Her hair and eyes and height and build were her own, though. But she certainly did not resemble her nominal father or sister.

I thought again of a faintly leering portrait of my grandfather which I had often studied, in an upstairs hallway, to the west. The lecherous old bastard really got around. Giving him his due, though, he was a very goodlooking man…

I sighed and rose to my feet. I laid a hand upon her shoulder.

«Listen, Coral,» I said. «All of us were well briefed before we tried it. I am going to tell you about it before you take another step, and while I speak you may feel energy flowing from me into you. I want you to be as strong as possible. When you take your next step I do not want you to stop again until you have reached the middle. I may call out instructions to you as you move along, also. Do whatever I say immediately, without thinking about it.

«First I will tell you about the Veils, the places of resistance…»

For how long I spoke, I do not know.

I watched as she approached the First Veil.

«Ignore the chill and the shocks,» I said. «They can't hurt you. Don't let the sparks distract you. You're about to hit major resistance. Don't start breathing rapidly.»

I watched her push her way through.

«Good,» I said, as she came onto an easier stretch, deciding against telling her that the next Veil was far worse. «By the way, don't think that you're going crazy. Shortly, it will begin playing head games with you-»

«It already has,» she responded. «What should I do?»

«It's probably mostly memories. Just let them flow, and keep your attention on the path.»

She continued, and I talked her through the Second Veil. The sparks reached almost to her shoulders before she was out of it. I watched her struggle through arc after arc, then tricky curves and long, sweeping ones, turns, reversals. There were times when she moved quickly, times when she was slowed almost to a standstill. But she kept moving. She had the idea, and it seemed she had the will. I did not think that she really needed me now. I was certain that I had nothing left to offer, that the outcome was entirely in her own hands.

So I shut up and watched, irritated with but unable to prevent my own leaning and turning, shifting and pressing, as if I were out there myself, anticipating, compensating.

When she came to the Grand Curve she was a living flame: Her progress was very slow, but there was a relentless quality to it. Whatever the outcome, I knew that she was being changed, had been changed already, that the Pattern was inscribing itself upon her, and that she was very near to the end of its statement. I almost cried out as she seemed to stop for a moment, but the words died in my throat as she shuddered once, then continued. I wiped my brow on my sleeve as she approached the Final Veil. Whatever the outcome, she had proved her suspicions. Only a child of Amber could have survived as she had.

I do not know how long it took her to pierce the last Veil. Her effort became timeless, and I was caught up in that protracted moment. She was a burning study in extreme slow motion, the nimbus that enshrouded her lighting up the entire chamber like a great blue candle.

And then she was through and onto that final short arc, the last three steps of which may well be the most difficult part of the entire Pattern. Some sort of psychic surface tension seems joined with the physical inertia one encounters just before the point of emergence.

Again, I thought she had stopped, but it was only an appearance. It was like watching someone doing tai chi, the painful slowness of that trio of paces. But she completed it and moved again. If the final step didn't kill her, then she was home free. Then we could talk…

That final moment went on and on and on. Then I saw her foot move forward and depart the Pattern. Shortly, the other foot followed and she stood panting at the center. «Congratulations!» I shouted.

She waved weakly with her right hand while slowly raising her left to cover her eyes. She stood thus for the a better part of a minute, and one who has walked the Pattern understands the feeling. I did not call out again, but let her recover, giving her the silence in which to enjoy her triumph.

The Pattern seemed to be glowing more brightly just then, as it often does immediately after being traversed. This gave a fairyland quality to the grotto - all blue light and shadow - and made a mirror of that small, still pool in the far corner where blind fish swim. I tried to think ahead to what this act might mean, for Coral, for Amber… She straightened suddenly.

«I'm going to live,» she announced.

«Good,» I replied. «You have a choice now, you know.»

«What do you mean?» she asked.

«You are now in a position to command the Pattern to transport you anywhere,» I explained. «So you could just have it deposit you back here again, or you could save yourself a long walk by having it return you to your suite right now. As much as I enjoy your company, I'd recommend the latter since you're probably pretty tired. Then you can soak in a nice warm bath and take your time dressing for dinner. I'll meet you in the dining room. Okay?»

I saw that she was smiling as she shook her head.

«I'm not going to waste an opportunity like this,» she said.

«Listen, I know the feeling,» I told her. «But I think you should restrain yourself. Rushing off someplace weird could be dangerous, and coming back could be tricky when you haven't had any training in shadow walking.»

«It's just sort of a will and expectation thing, isn't it?» she asked. «You kind of impose images on the environment as you go along, don't you?»

«It's trickier than that,» I said. «You have to learn to capitalize on certain features as points of departure. Normally, one is accompanied on one's first shadow walk by someone with experience-»

«Okay, I get the idea.»

«Not enough,» I said. «Ideas are fine, but there's feedback, too. There's a certain feeling you get when it begins working. That can't be taught. It has to be experienced - and until you're sure of it, you should have someone along for a guide.»

«Seems like trial and error would do.»

«Maybe,» I answered. «But supposing you wound up in danger? That'd be a hell of a time to start learning. Kind of distracting-»

«All right. You made your point. Fortunately, I'm not planning on anything that would put me in such a position.»

«What are you planning?»

She straightened and gestured widely.

«Ever since I learned about the Pattern, there's been something I wanted to try if I got this far,» she said.

«What might that be?»

«I'm going to ask it to send me where I should go.»

«I don't understand.»

«I'm going to leave the choice up to the Pattern.»

I shook my head.

«It doesn't work that way,» I told her. «You have to give it an order to transport you.»

«How do you know that?»

«It's just the way it works.»

«Have you ever tried what I'm saying?»

«No. Nothing would happen.»

«Has anyone you know of ever tried it?»

«It would be a waste of time. Look, you're talking as if the Pattern is somehow sentient, is capable of coming to a decision on its own and executing it.»

«Yes,» she replied. «And it must know me real well after what I've just been through with it. So I'm just going to ask its advice and-»

«Wait!» I said.

«Yes?»

«On the off chance that something happens, how do you plan on getting back?»

«I'll walk, I guess. So you're admitting that something could happen?»

«Yes,» I said. «It's conceivable that you have an unconscious desire to visit a place, and that it will read that and take you there if you give a transport order. That won't prove that the Pattern is sentient just that it's sensitive. Now, if it were me standing them, I'd be afraid to take a chance like that. Supposing I have suicidal tendencies I'm not aware of? Or-»

«You're reaching,» she answered. «You're really reaching.»

«I'm just counseling you to play it safe. You have your whole life to go exploring. It would be silly to-»

«Enough!» she said. «My mind's made up, and that's it. It feels right. See you later, Merlin.»

«Wait!» I cried again. «All right. Do it if you must. But let me give you something first.»

«What?»

«A means of getting out of a tight spot in a hurry. Here.»

I withdrew my Trumps, shuffled out my own card. Then I unfastened my dagger and sheath from my belt. I wrapped my card around the haft and tied it there with my handkerchief.

«You have an idea how to use a Trump?»

«You just stare and think of the person till there's contact, don't you?»

«That'll do,» I said. «Here's mine: Take it with you. Call me when you want to come home, and I'll bring you back.»

I tossed it out across the Pattern, underhand. She caught it easily and hung it on her belt on the side opposite her own.

«Thanks,» she said, straightening. «I guess I'll give it a try now.»

«Just in case it really works, don't stay long. Okay?»

«Okay,» she answered, and she closed her eyes.

An instant later she was gone. Oh, my.

I moved to the edge of the Pattern and held my hand above it until I could feel the forces stirring there.

«You'd better know what you're doing,» I said. «I want her back.»

A spark shot upward and tickled my palm.

«You trying to tell me you're really sentient?»

Everything swirled about me. The dizziness passed in an instant, and the first thing I noticed then was that the lantern was beside my right foot. When I looked about I realized that I was standing on the other side of the Pattern from where I had been and was now near the door.

«I was within your field and I'm already attuned,» I said. «It was just my unconscious desire to get out.»

Then I hefted the lantern, locked the door behind me, and hung the key back on its hook. I still didn't trust the thing. If it had really wanted to be helpful, it would have sent me directly to my quarters and saved me all those stairs.

I hurried along the tunnel. It was by far the most interesting first date I'd ever had.

Chapter 6

As I passed out of the main hall and headed along the back hallway which would take me to any of a number of stairs, a fellow in black leathers and various pieces of rusty and shiny chain emerged from a corridor to my right, halted, and stared at me. His hair was of an orange Mohawk cut and there were several silver rings in his left ear near what looked like an electrical outlet of some sort.

«Merlin?» he said. «You okay?»

«For the moment,» I replied as I drew nearer, trying to place him, there in the dimness.

«Martin!» I said. «You're… changed.»

He chuckled.

«I'm just back from a very interesting shadow,» he said. «Spent over a year there - one of those places where time runs like hell.»

«I'd judge - just guessing - that it was high-tech, urban…»

«Right.»

«I thought you were a country boy.»

«I got over it. Now I know why my dad likes cities and noise.»

«You a musician, too?»

«Some. Different sounds, though. You going to be at dinner?»

«I was planning on it. As soon as I get cleaned up and changed.»

«See you there, then. We've a lot, of things to talk about.»

«Sure thing, Cousin.»

He clasped my shoulder and released it as I passed. His grip was still strong.

I walked on. Before I'd gone very far, I felt the beginning of a Trump contact. I halted and reached quickly, figuring it was Coral wanting to return. Instead, my eyes met those of Mandor, who smiled faintly.

«Ah, very good,» he said. «You are alone and apparently safe.»

As things came clearer I saw that Fiona was standing beside him, standing very close as a matter of fact.

«I'm okay,» I said. «I'm back in Amber. You all right?»

«Intact,» he said, looking past me, though there was not much to see beyond wall and a bit of tapestry. «Would you care to come through?» I asked.

«I'd love to see Amber,» he replied. «But that pleasure will have to await another occasion. We are somewhat occupied at the moment.»

«You've discovered the cause of the disturbances?» I asked.

He glanced at Fiona, then back at me.

«Yes and no,» he said. «We've some interesting leads but no certainty at the moment.»

«Uh, what can I do for you then?» I asked.

Fiona extended her index finger and suddenly became much clearer. I realized that she must have reached out and touched my Trump for better contact.

«We've had an encounter with a manifestation of that machine you built,» she said. «Ghostwheel.»

«Yes?» I said.

«You're right, it's sentient - social AI as well as technical.»

«I was already certain it could pass the Turing test.»

«Oh, no doubt about that,» she responded, «since by definition the Turing test requires a machine capable of lying to people and misleading them.»

«What are you getting at, Fiona?» I asked.

«It's not just social AI. It's downright antisocial,» she replied. «I think your machine is crazy.»

«What did it do?» I asked. «Attack you?»

«No, nothing physical. It's wacky and mendacious and insulting, and we're too busy to go into details right now. I'm not saying it couldn't get nasty, though. I don't know. We just wanted to warn you not to trust it.»

I smiled.

«That's it? End of message?» I said.

«For now,» she answered, lowering her finger and growing dim.

I shifted my gaze to Mandor and was about to explain that I had built a host of safeguards into the thing, so that not just anybody could access it. Mainly, though, I wanted to tell him about Jurt. But our communication was suddenly severed, as I felt another presence reaching toward me.

I was intrigued by the sensation. I had occasionally wondered what would occur if someone tried for a Trump contact when I was already in touch with someone else via a Trump. Would it turn into a conference call? Would someone get a busy signal? Would it put the other party on hold? I'd doubted I'd ever find out, though. It just seemed statistically unlikely. However…

«Merlin, baby. I'm okay.»

«Luke!»

Mandor and Fiona were definitely gone. «I'm really okay now, Merle.»

«You sure?»

«Yeah, as soon as I started coming down I switched to a fast lane. In this shadow it's been several days since I've seen you.»

He was wearing sunglasses and green swim trunks. He was seated at a small table beside a swimming pool in the shade of a great umbrella, the remains of a large lunch spread before. him. A lady in a blue bikini dived into the pool and passed from my line of sight.

«Well, I'm glad to hear about that and-»

«So what happened to me, anyhow? I remember you said something about someone slipping me some acid when I was a prisoner back at the Keep. Is that how it went?»

«It seems very likely.»

«I guess that's what happens when you drink the water,» he mused. «Okay. What's been going on while I've been out of it?»

Knowing how much to tell him was always a problem. So, «Where do we stand?» I asked.

«Oh. That,» he said.

«Yeah.»

«Well, I've had a chance to do a lot of thinking,» he replied, «and I'm going to call it quits. Honor has been satisfied. It's pointless to keep pushing this thing against everybody else. But I'm not about to put myself in Random's hands for a kangaroo trial. Now it's your turn: Where do I stand so far as Amber's concerned? Should I be looking over my shoulder?»

«Nobody's said anything yet, one way or the other. But Random is out of town now and I just got back myself. I haven't really had a chance to learn what the others' feelings might be on this thing.»

He removed his sunglasses and studied me. «The fact that Random's out of town…»

«No, I know he's not after you,» I said, «because he's in Kash-» `and I tried to stop it just a syllable too late.

«Kashfa?»

«So I understand.»

«What the hell's he doing there? Amber was never interested in the place before.»

«There's been a… death,» I explained. «Some kind of shake-up going on.»

«Ha!» Luke remarked. «That bastard finally bought it. Good! But… Hey! Why's Amber moving in so suddenlike, huh?»

«Don't know,» I said.

He chuckled. «Rhetorical question,» he said. «I can see what's going on. I've got to admit Random's got style. Listen, when you find out who he puts on the throne let me know, will you? I like to keep abreast of doings in the old hometown.»

«Oh, sure,» I said, trying unsuccessfully to determine whether such information could be harmful. It would become public knowledge very soon, if it wasn't already.

«So what else is going on? That other person who was Vinta Bayle…?»

«Gone,» I said. «I don't know where.»

«Very strange,» he mused. «I don't think we've seen the last of her. She was Gail, too. I'm sure. Let me know if she comes back, will you?»

«Okay. You want to ask her out again?»

He shrugged, then smiled. «I could think of worse ways to spend some time.»

«You're lucky she didn't try to take you out, literally.»

«I'm not so sure she would've,» he replied. «We always got along pretty well. Anyhow, none of this is the main reason I called…»

I nodded, having already guessed as much.

«How's my mother doing?» he asked.

«Hasn't stirred,» I answered. «She's safe.»

«That's something,» he said. «You know, it's kind of undignified for a queen to be in that position. A coatrack. Jeez!»

«I agree,» I agreed. «But what's the alternative?»

«Well, I'd sort of like to… get her freed,» he said.

«What'll it take?»

«You raise a very thorny issue,» I stated.

«I sort of figured that.»

«I've a strong feeling she's the one behind this revenge business, Luke, that she's the one who put you up to going after everybody. Like with that bomb. Like encouraging you to set up that private army with modern weapons, to use against Amber. Like trying for a hit on me every spring. Like-»

«Okay, okay. You're right. I don't deny it. But things have changed-»

«Yeah. Her plans fell through and we've got her.»

«That's not what I meant. I'm changed. I understand her now, and I understand myself better. She can't push me around that way anymore.»

«Why is that?»

«That trip I was on… It shook loose my thinking quite a bit. About her and me. I've had several days now to mull over what some of it meant, and I don't think she can pull the same crap on me that she used to.»

I recalled the red-haired woman tied to the stake, tormented by demons. There was a resemblance, now I thought of it.

«But she's still my mother,» he went on, «and I don't like leaving her in the position she's in. What kind of deal; might be possible for turning her loose?»

«I don't know, Luke.» I answered. «The matter hasn't come up yet.».

«Well, she's your prisoner, actually.»

«But her plans were directed against all of us.»

«True, but I won't be helping her with them anymore.

She really needs someone like me for carrying them out.»

«Right. And if she doesn't have you to help, what's to prevent her from finding someone like you, as you put it? She'd still be dangerous if we let her go.»

«But you know about her now. That would crimp her style quite a bit.»

«It might just make her more devious.»

He sighed. «I suppose there's some truth in that,» he admitted. «But she's as venal as most people. It's just a matter of finding the right price.»

«I can't see Amber buying someone off that way.»

«I can.»

«Not when that person is already a prisoner here.»

«That does complicate matters a little,» he acknowledged. «But I hardly think it's an insurmountable barrier. Not if she's more useful to you free than as a piece of furniture.»

«You've lost me,» I said. «What are you proposing?»

«Nothing yet. I'm just sounding you out.»

«Fair enough. But offhand, I can't see a situation such as you describe arising. More valuable to us free than a prisoner… I guess we'd go where the value lies: But these are just words.»

«Just trying to plant a seed or two while I work on it. What is your greatest concern right now?»

«Me? Personally? You really want to know?»

«You bet.»

«Okay. My mad brother Jurt has apparently allied himself with the sorcerer Mask back at the Keep. The two of them are out to get me. Jurt made an attempt just this afternoon, but I can see it's really a challenge from Mask. I'm going to take them on soon.»

«Hey, I didn't know you had a brother!»

«Half brother. I have a couple of others, too. But I can get along with them. Jurt's been after me for a long time.»

«That's really something. You never mentioned them.»

«We never talked family. Remember?»

«Yeah. But you've got me puzzled now. Who's this Mask? I seem to remember your mentioning him before. It's really Sharu Garrul, isn't it?»

I shook my head.

«When I brought your mother out of the citadel she left the company of a similarly stricken old guy with RINALDO carved on his leg. I was trading spells with Mask at the time.»

«Most strange,» Luke said. «Then he's a usurper. And he's the one slipped me the acid?»

«That seems most likely.»

«Then I have a score to settle with him, too - apart from what he did to my mother. How tough is Jurt?»

«Well, he's nasty. But he's kind of clumsy, too. At least, he's screwed up whenever we've, fought and left; a piece of himself behind.»

«He could also be learning from his mistakes, you know.»

«That's true. And he said something kind of cryptic today, now you mention it. He talked as if he were about to become very powerful.»

«Uh-oh,» Luke said. «Sounds as if this Mask is using him as a guinea pig.»

«For what?»

«The Fount of Power, man. There's a steady, pulsing source of pure energy inside the Citadel, you know. Inter-Shadow stuff. Comes from the four worlds jamming together there.»

«I know. I've seen it in action.»

«I've got a feeling that this Mask is still in the process of getting a handle on it.»

«He had a pretty good grip when we met.»

«Yeah, but there's more to it than plugging into a wall outlet. There are all sorts of subtleties he's probably just becoming aware of and exploring.»

«Such as?»

«Bathing a person in it will, if he's properly protected, do wonders for strength, stamina, and magical abilities. That part's easy for a person with some training to learn. I've been through it myself. But old Sharu's notes were in his lab, and there was something more in them - way of replacing part of the body with energy, really packing it in. Very dangerous. Easily fatal. But if it works you get something special, a kind of superman, a sort of living Trump.»

«I've heard that term before, Luke…»

«Probably,» he replied. «My father undertook the process, with himself as the subject-»

«That's it!» I said. «Corwin claimed that Brand had become some sort of living Trump. Made it almost impossible to nail him.»

Luke gritted his teeth.

«Sorry,» I said. «But that's where I heard about it. So that was the secret of Brand's power…»

Luke nodded.

«I get the impression this Mask thinks he knows how it was done and is getting ready to try it on your brother.»

«Shit!» I observed. «That's all I need. Jurt as a magical being or a natural force - or whatever the hell. This is serious. How much do you know about the process?»

«Oh, I know most of it, in theory. I wouldn't mess with it, though. I think it takes away something of your humanity. You don't much give a shit about other people or human values afterward. I think that's part of what happened to my father.»

What could I say? Maybe that part was true and maybe it wasn't. I was sure Luke wanted to believe in some external cause for his father's treachery. I knew I'd never contradict him on it, even if I learned differently. And so I laughed.

«With Jurt,» I said, «there'd be no way of telling the difference.»

Luke smiled. Then, «You could get dead going up against a guy like that, along with a sorcerer, on their own turf.»

«What choice have I got?» I asked. «They're after me. Better to move now. Jurt hasn't had the treatment yet. Does it take long?»

«Well, there are fairly elaborate preliminaries, but the subject doesn't have to be present for some of them. It all depends on how far along Mask is with the work.»

«I'd better move pretty fast then.»

«I won't have you going in there alone,» he said. «It could be suicide. I know the place. I also have a small force of mercs bivouacked in Shadow and ready for action on short notice. If we can get them in, they can hold off the guards, maybe even take them out.»

«Will that fancy ammo work there?»

«No. We tried it when I pulled the glider attack. It'll have to be hand to hand. Body armor and machetes, maybe. I'll have to work it out.»

«We could use the Pattern to get in, but the troop can't… and Trumps aren't reliable for that place.»

«I know. I'll have to work on that, too.»

«Then it would be you and me against Jurt and Mask. If I tell any of the others here, they'll try to stop me till Random gets back, and that may be too late».

He smiled. «You know, my mother would really be useful in there,» he said. «She knows more about the Fount than I do.»

«No!» I said. «She tried, to kill me.»

«Easy, man. Easy,» he said. «Hear me out.»

«Besides, she lost to Mask last time they met. That's why she's a coatrack.»

«All the more reason for her to be wary now. Anyway, it had to be trickery, not skill. She's good. Mask must have surprised her. She'd be a real asset, Merle.»

«No! She wants all of us dead!»

«Details,» he explained. «After Caine, the rest of you are just symbolic enemies. Mask is a real one, who took something away from her and still has it. Given the choice, she'll go after Mask.»

«And if we're successful, she'll turn on Amber afterward.»

«Not at all,» he said. «That's the beauty of my plan.»

«I don't want to hear about it.»

«Because you already know you'll agree, right? I just figured a way to solve all your problems. Give her the Keep after it's liberated, as a kind of peace offering, to forget her differences with you guys.»

«Just hand her this terrible power?»

«If she were going to use it against you, she'd have done it a long time ago. She's afraid to employ it in the extreme. With Kashfa down the tubes, she'll grab at the chance to salvage something. That's where the value lies.»

«You really think so?»

«Better Queen of the Keep than a coatrack in Amber.»

«Damn you, Luke. You always make the stupidest things sound sort of attractive.»

«It's an art,» he replied. «What do you say?»

«I've got to think about it,» I said.

«Better think fast, then. Jurt may be bathing in that glow right now.»

«Don't pressure me, man. I said I'll think about it. This is only one of my problems. I'm going to eat dinner now and mull things over.»

«Want to tell me about your other problems, too? Maybe I can work them into the package some way.»

«No, damn it! I'll call you back… soon. Okay?»

«Okay. But I'd better be around when you snap Mom out of it, to kind of smooth things over. You have figured out how to break the spell, haven't you?»

«Yes.»

«Glad to know that. I wasn't sure how to do it, and I can stop working on it now. I'm going to finish here and go shape up the troops,» he said, eyeing the lady in the bikini who had just emerged from the pool. «Call me.»

«Okay,» I said, and he was gone.

Damn. Amazing. No wonder Luke kept winning those sales awards. I had to admit it was a good pitch, despite my feelings about Jasra. And Random had not ordered me to keep her a prisoner. Of course, he had not had much opportunity to tell me anything the last time we had been together. Would she really behave as Luke said, though? It made a sort of sense, but then people seldom keep company with rationality at times when they should.

I passed along the hallway and decided to use the back stair. As I made the turn, I saw that there was a figure standing near the top. It was a woman, and she was looking the other way. She had on a full-length red and yellow gown. Her hair was very dark and she had lovely shoulders…

She turned when she heard my tread, and I saw that it was Nayda. She studied my face.

«Lord Merlin,» she said, «can you tell me where my sister is? I understand she went off with you earlier.»

«She was admiring some art, and then she had a little errand she wanted to run afterward,» I replied. «I'm not sure exactly where she was going, but she gave the impression she'd be back pretty soon.»

«All right,» she said. «It's just that it's getting near to dinnertime, and we'd expected her to be joining us. Did she enjoy her afternoon?»

«I believe she did,» I said.

«She's been a bit moody recently. We were hoping this trip would cheer her up. She was looking forward to it quite a bit.»

«She seemed pretty cheerfulll when I left her,» I admitted.

«Oh, where was that?»

«Near here,» I said.

«Where all did you go?»

«We had a long walk in and about town,» I explained. «I showed her a bit of the palace, also.»

«Then she's in the palace right now?»

«She was the last time I saw her. But she might have stepped out.»

«I see,» she said. «I'm sorry I didn't really get to talk to you at any length earlier. I feel as if I've known you for a long while.»

«Oh?» I said. «Why is that?»

«I read through your file several times. It's kind of fascinating.»

«File?»

«It's no secret that we keep files on people we're likely to encounter in our line of work. There's a file on everyone in the House of Amber, of course, even those who don't have much to do with diplomacy.»

«I'd never thought about it,» I said, «but it figures.»

«Your early days are glossed over, of course, and your recent troubles are very confusing.»

«They're confusing to me, too,» I said. «You trying to update the file?»

«No, just curious. If your problems have ramifications that may involve Begma, we have an interest in them.»

«How is it that you know of them at all?»

«We have very good intelligence sources. Small kingdoms often do.»

I nodded.

«I won't press you on your sources, but we're not having a fire sale on classified data.»

«You misunderstand me,» she said. «I'm not trying to update that file either. I was trying to discover whether I might be able to offer you assistance.»

«Thank you. I appreciate that,» I told her. «I can't really think of any way you could help me, though.»

She smiled, showing what seemed a set of perfect teeth.

«I can't be more precise without knowing more,» she said. «But if you decide that you do want help - or if you just want to talk - come and see me.»

«Well taken,» I said. «I'll see you at dinner.»

«Later, too, I hope,» she said, as I passed her and turned down the hall.

What had she meant by that last bit? I wondered. Was she talking assignation? If so, her motives seemed awfully transparent. Or was she merely expressing her desire for information? I was not certain.

As I passed along the hallway in the direction of my rooms I noted an odd lighting phenomenon ahead of me: A bright white band about six or eight inches in width ran up both walls, across the ceiling, and over the floor. I slowed as I neared it, wondering whether someone had introduced a new method of illuminating the place in my absence.

As I stepped over the band on the floor, everything disappeared, except for the light itself, which resolved into a perfect circle, flipped once about me and settled on a level with my feet, myself at its center. The world appeared beyond the circle, suddenly, and it looked as if it were made of green glass formed into a dome. The surface on which I stood was reddish, irregular and moist in the pale light. It was not until a large fish swam by that I realized I might be underwater, standing on a ridge of coral.

«This is pretty as all hell,» I said, «but I was trying to get to my apartment.»

«Just showing off a bit,» came a familiar voice which sounded eerily all about my magic circle. «Am I a god?»

«You can call yourself whatever you want,» I said. «Nobody will disagree with you.»

«It might be fun being a god.»

«Then what does that make me?» I asked.

«That's a difficult theological question.»

«Theological, my ass. I'm a computer engineer, and you know I built you, Ghost.»

A sound like a sigh filled my submarine cell.

«It's hard to get away from one's roots.»

«Why try? What's wrong with roots? All of the best plants have them.»

«Pretty bloom above, mire and muck below.»

«In your case it's metal and an interesting cryogenic setup - and quite a few other things - all of them very clean.»

«Maybe it's mire and muck that I need, then.»

«You feeling all right, Ghost?»

«I'm still trying to find myself.»

«Everyone goes through phases like that. It'll pass.»

«Really?»

«Really.»

«When? How? Why?»

«It would be cheating to tell. Besides, it's different for everyone.»

A whole school of fish swam by - little black-and-red striped guys.

«I can't quite swing the omniscience business…» Ghost said after a time.

«That's okay. Who needs it?» I said.

«…And I'm still working on omnipotence.»

«That one's hard, too,» I agreed.

«You're very understanding, Dad.»

«I try. You got any special problems?»

«You mean, apart from the existential?»

«Yeah.»

«No. I brought you here to warn you about a fellow named Mandor. He's-»

«He's my brother,» I said. There was silence.

Then, «That would make him my uncle, wouldn't it?»

«I guess so.»

«How about the lady with him? She-»

«Fiona's my aunt.»

«My great-aunt. Oh, my!»

«What's wrong?»

«It's bad form to speak ill of relatives, isn't it?»

«Not in Amber,» I said. «In Amber we do it all the time.»

The circle of light flipped again. We were back in the hallway.

«Now that we're in Amber,» he said, «I want to speak ill of them. I wouldn't trust them if I were you. I think they're a little crazy. Also insulting and mendacious.»

I laughed. «You're becoming a true Amberite.»

«I am?»

«Yes. That's the way we are. Nothing to worry about. What came down between you, anyhow?»

«I'd rather work it out on my own, if you don't mind.»

«Whatever you think is best.»

«I don't really need to warn you about them?»

«No.»

«Okay. That was my main concern. I guess I'll go and try the mire and muck bit now-»

«Wait.»

«What?»

«You seem pretty good at transporting things through Shadow these days.»

«I seem to be improving, yes.»

«What about a small band of warriors and their leader?»

«I think I could manage that.»

«And me.»

«Of course. Where are they and where do you want go?»

I fished in my pocket, found Luke's Trump, held it before me.

«But… He's the one you warned me not to trust», Ghost said.

«It's okay now,» I told him. «Just for this matter. Nothin else though. Things have changed a bit.»

«I don't understand. But if you say so.»

«Can you run him down and set things up?»

«I should be able to. Where do you want to go?»

«Do you know the Keep of the Four Worlds?»

«Yes. But that's a dangerous place, Dad. Very tricky coming and going. And that's where the red-haired lady tried to lay a power lock on me.»

«Jasra.»

«I never knew her name.»

«She's Luke's mother,» I explained, waving his Trump.

«Bad blood,» Ghost stated. «Maybe we shouldn't have anything to do with either of them.»

«She might be coming with us,» I said.

«Oh, no. That's a dangerous lady. You don't want her along. Especially not in a place where she's strong. She might try to grab me again. She might succeed.»

«She'll be too occupied with other matters,» I said, «and I may need her. So start thinking of her as part of the package.»

«Are you sure you know what you're doing?»

«I'm afraid so.»

«When do you want to go there?»

«That depends in part on when Luke's troops will be ready. Why don't you go and find out?»

«All right. But I still think you might be making a mistake, going into that place with those people.»

«I need someone who can help, and the die is damned well cast,» I said.

Ghost coalesced to a point and winked out.

I drew a deep breath, changed my mind about sighing, and moved on toward my nearest door, which was not that much farther up the hall. As I was reaching for it I felt the movement of a Trump contact. Coral?

I opened myself to it. Mandor appeared before me again.

«Are you all right?» he asked immediately. «We were cut off in such an odd fashion.»

«I'm fine,» I told him. «We were cut off in a once-in-a-lifetime fashion. Not to worry.»

«You seem a trifle agitated.»

«That's because it's an awfully long walk from downstairs to upstairs with all the powers of the universe converging to slow me.»

«I don't understand.»

«It's been a rough day,» I said. «See you later.»

«I did want to talk with you some more, about those stones and the new Pattern and-»

«Later,» I said. «I'm waiting on an incoming call.»

«Sorry. No rush. I'll check back.»

He broke the contact and I reached for the latch. I wondered whether it would solve everybody's problems if I could turn Ghost into an answering service.

Chapter 7

I hung my cloak on Jasra and my weapons belt on the bedpost. I cleaned my boots, washed my hands and face, hunted up a fancy ivory shirt - alI ruffled, brocaded, frogged - and put it on, along with a pair of gray trousers. Then I brushed off my deep purple jacket, the one on which I'd once laid a spell to make the wearer seem a little more charming, witty, and trustworthy than is actually the case. It seemed a good occasion for getting some use out of it.

As I was brushing my hair there came a knock on the door.

«Just a minute,» I called.

I finished up - which left me ready to go and also, probably, running late - then went to the door, unbarred it, and opened it.

Bill Roth stood there in browns and reds, looking like an aging condottiere.

«Bill!» I said, clasping his hand, arm, and shoulder and leading him in. «Good to see you. I'm just back from some troubles and about to take off after more. I didn't know whether you were here in the palace now or what. I was going to look you up again as soon as things slowed a bit.»

He smiled and punched my shoulder lightly.

«I'll be at dinner,» he replied, «and Hendon said you'd be there, too. I thought I'd come up and walk over with you, though, since those Begman people will be there.

«Oh? You got some news?»

«Yes. Any fresh word on Luke?»

«I was just talking to him. He says the vendetta's off.»

«Any chance of his wanting to justify himself at that hearing you asked me about?»

«Not from the way he sounded.»

«Too bad. I've bean doing a lot of research, and there are some good precendents for the vendetta defense - like, there was your uncle Osric, who took on the whole House of Karen over the death of a relative on his mother's side. Oberon was particularly friendly with Karen in those days, too, and Osric offed three of them. Oberon acquitted him at a hearing, though, basing his decision on earlier cases, and he even went further by stating a kind of general rule-»

«Oberon also sent him off to the front Iines in a particularly nasty war,» I interrupted, «from which he did not return.»

«I wasn't aware of that part,» Bill said, «but he did come off well in court.»

«I'll have to mention it to Luke,» I said.

«Which part?» he asked.

«Both,» I answered.

«That wasn't the main thing I came to tell you,» he went on. «There's something going on at a military level.»

«What are you talking about?»

«It's even easier to show you,» he explained. «It should only take a minute.»

«Okay. Let's go,» I agreed, and I followed him out into the hall.

He led the way down the back stair and turned left at its foot. We moved on past the kitchen and followed another hallway which turned off toward the rear. As we did, I heard some rattling sounds from up ahead. I glanced at Bill, who nodded.

«That's what I heard earlier,» he told me, «when I was passing by. That's why I took a walk up this way. Everything around here makes me curious.»

I nodded, understanding the feeling. Especially when I knew that the sounds were coming from the main armory. Benedict stood in the midst of activity, peering at his thumbnail through a rifle barrel. He looked up immediately and our eyes met. Perhaps a dozen men moved about him, carrying weapons, cleaning weapons, stacking weapons.

«I thought you were in Kashfa,» I said.

«Was,» he replied.

I gave him a chance to continue, but nothing was forthcoming. Benedict has never been noted for loquacity.

«Looks like you're getting ready for something close to home,» I remarked, knowing that gunpowder was useless here and that the special ammo we had only worked in the area of Amber and certain adjacent kingdoms.

«Always best to be safe,» he said.

«Would you care to elaborate on that?» I asked.

«Not now,» he answered, a reply twice as long as I'd anticipated and holding out hope of future enlightenment.

«Should we all be digging in?» I asked: «Fortifying the town? Arming ourselves? Raising-»

«It won't come to that,» he said. «Just go on about your business.»

«But-»

He turned away. I'd a feeling the conversation was over. I was sure of it when he ignored my next several questions. I shrugged and turned back to Bill.

«Let's go eat,» I said.

As we walked back up the hall, Bill said softly, «Any idea what it means?»

«Dalt's in the neighborhood,» I told him.

«Benedict was in Begma with Random. Dalt could be causing trouble there.»

«I've a feeling he's nearer.»

«If Dalt were to capture Random…»

«Impossible,» I said, feeling a slight chill at the idea. «Random can trump back here anytime he wants. No. When I talked about defending Amber, and Benedict said, `It won't come to that,' I got the impression he was talking about something close at hand. Something he feels he can control.»

«I see what you mean,» he agreed. «But then he told you not to bother fortifying.»

«If Benedict feels we don't need to fortify, then we don't need to fortify.»

«Waltz and drink champagne while the cannons boom?»

«If Benedict says it's okay.»

«You really trust that guy. What would you do without him?»

«Be more nervous,» I said.

He shook his head. «Excuse me,» he said. «I'm not used to being acquainted with legends.»

«You don't believe me?»

«I shouldn't believe you, but I do believe you. That's the trouble.» He was silent as we turned the corner and headed back toward the stair. Then he added, «It was that way whenever I was around your father, too.»

«Bill,» I said, as we began to climb. «You knew my dad back before he regained his memory, when he was just plain old Carl Corey. Maybe I've been going about this thing wrong. Is there anything you can recall about that phase of his life which might explain where he is now?»

He halted a moment and looked at me.

«Don't think I haven't thought about that angle, Merle. Many a time I've wondered whether he might have been involved in something as Corey that he'd have felt obliged to follow through on once his business here was finished. But he was a very secretive man, even in that incarnation. Paradoxical, too. He'd done a lot of hitches in a lot of different varieties of military, which seems logical enough. But he sometimes wrote music, which goes against that hard-ass image.»

«He'd lived a long time. He'd learned a lot, felt lot.»

«Exactly, and that's what makes it hard to guess why he might have been involved in. Once or twice when he'd had a few drinks he'd mention people in the arts and sciences I'd never have guessed him to be acquainted with. He was never just plain Carl Corey. He had a few centuries worth of Earth memory when I knew him. That makes for a character too complex to be easily predictable. I just don't know what he might have gone back to - if he went back.»

We continued on up the stairway. Why did I feel that Bill knew more than he was telling me?

I heard music as we neared the dining room, and when we entered, Llewella gave me a nasty look. I saw that food was being kept warm at a serving table off against the far wall, and no one was seated yet. People stood about talking, drinks in hand, and most of them glanced in our direction as we entered. Three musicians were playing, off to my right. The dining table was to my left, near the big window in the south wall, providing a glorious view across the town below. It was still snowing lightly, casting a spectral veil over the entire bright prospect.

Llewella approached quickly.

«You've kept everybody waiting,» she whispered. «Where's the girl?»

«Coral?»

«Who else?»

«I'm not sure where she's gotten off to,» I said. «We parted company a couple of hours ago.»

«Well, is she coming or isn't she?»

«I'm not sure.»

«We can't keep things waiting any longer,» she said. «And now the seating arrangement's screwed. What did you do, wear her out?»

«Llewella…»

She muttered something I didn't understand in some lisping Rebman dialect. Just as well, probably. She fumed away then and moved off toward Vialle.

«You in a heap of trouble, boy,» Bill commented at my side. «Let's hit the bar while she's reassigning places.»

But the wine steward was already approaching with a couple of drinks on a tray.

«Bayle's Best,» he observed as we took them.

I sipped and saw that he was right, which heartened me a bit.

«I don't recognize all of these people,» Bill said. «Who's that fellow with the red sash, over by Vialle?»

«That's Orkuz, the Begman prime minister,» I told him, «and the rather attractive lady in the yellow-and-red dress who's talking to Martin is his daughter Nayda. Coral - the one I just got chewed out about - is her sister.»

«Uh-huh. And who's the husky blond lady batting her eyes at Gerard?»

«I don't know,» I said. «And I don't know that lady and the guy over to the right of Orkuz either.»

We drifted inward, and Gerard, looking perhaps a trifle uncomfortable in layers of ruffled finery, introduced us to the lady he was with as Dretha Gannell, assistant to the Begman ambassador. The ambassador, it turned out, was the tall lady standing near Orkuz - and her name, I gathered, was Ferla Quist. The fellow with her was her secretary, whose name sounded something like Cade. While we were looking in that direction, Gerard tried slipping off and leaving us with Ferla. But she caught his sleeve and asked him something about the fleet. I smiled and nodded and moved away. Bill came along.

«Goodness! Martin's changed!» he announced suddenly. «He looks like a one-man rock video. I almost didn't recognize him. Just last week-»

«It's been over a year,» I said, «for him. He's been off finding himself on some street scene.»

«I wonder if he's finished?»

«Didn't get a chance to ask him that;» I replied, but a peculiar thought occurred to me. I shelved it.

The music died just then, and Llewella cleared the throat and indicated Hendon, who announced the new seating arrangement. I was at the foot of the table, and I learned later that Coral was to have been seated to my left and Cade to my right. I also learned later that Llewella had tried to get hold of Flora at the last minute to sit in Coral's place, but Flora wasn't taking any calls.

As it was, Vialle, at the head, had Llewella seated to her right and Orkuz to her left, with Gerard, Dretha, and Bill below Llewella, and Ferla, Martin, Cade, and Nayda below Orkuz. I found myself escorting Nayda to the table and seating her to my right, while Bill settled himself at my left.

«Fuss, fuss, fuss,» Bill muttered softly, and I nodded; then introduced him to Nayda as counsel to the House of Amber. She looked impressed and asked him about his work. He proceeded to charm her with a story about once having represented the interests of a dog in an estate, settlement, which had nothing to do with Amber but was a good story. Got her to laughing a bit, and also Cade, who was listening in.

The first course was served and the musicians began playing again, softly, which shortened the distance our voices carried and reduced conversation to a more intimate level. At this, Bill signaled he had something he wanted to tell me, but Nayda had beaten him by a second or two and I was already listening to her.

«About Coral,» she said softly. «Are you sure she's all right? She wasn't feeling ill when you parted - of anything like that - was she?»

«No,» I answered. «She seemed healthy enough.»

«Strange,» she said. «I had the impression she wad looking forward to things like this dinner.»

«She's obviously taking longer than she'd intended in whatever she's about,» I observed.

«What exactly was she about?» Nayda asked. «Where did you part?»

«Here in the palace,» I replied. «I was showing her around. She wanted to spend more time with certain features of the place than I could spare. So I came on ahead.

«I don't think she could have forgotten dinner.»

«I think she got caught up by the power of an artistic piece.»

«So she's definitely on the premises?»

«Now, that's hard to say. As I said before, a person can always step out.»

«You mean you're not sure exactly where she is?» I nodded.

«I'm not certain where she is at this moment,» I said. «She could well be back in her room changing her clothes.»

«I'll check after dinner,» she said, «if she hasn't shown up by then. If that should be the case, will you help me find her?»

«I was planning on looking for her anyway,» I answered, «if she doesn't put in an appearance soon.»

She nodded and continued eating. Very awkward.

Beyond the fact that I didn't want to distress her, I couldn't very well tell her what had happened without its becoming apparent that her sister was indeed an illegitimate daughter of Oberon. At a time such as this, when I had been cautioned about saying anything that might strain relations between Amber and Begma, I was not about to confirm to the daughter of the Begman prime minister the rumor that her mother had had an affair with the late king of Amber. Maybe it was an open secret back in Begma and nobody gave a damn. But maybe it wasn't. I didn't want to disturb Random for advice, partly because he might be extremely occupied in Kashfa just now; but mainly because he might also start asking me about my own immediate plans and problems, and I would not lie to him. That could get me into too much trouble. Such a conversation might well also result in his forbidding my attack on the Keep. The only other person I could tell about Coral and get some sort of official response from, as to how far I might go in informing her family, was Vialle. Unfortunately, Vialle was completely occupied as hostess at the moment.

I sighed and returned to my dinner.

Bill caught my attention and leaned a little in my direction. I leaned a little, too.

«Yes?» I said.

«There were some things I wanted to tell you,» he began. «I was hoping for some leisure, some quiet, and some privacy, though.»

I chuckled.

«Exactly,» he continued. «I believe this is the best we're going to get for a time. Fortunately, voices don't seem to be carrying if one keeps them down. I couldn't make out what you and Nayda were talking about. So it's probably okay, so long as the musicians keep playing.»

I nodded, took a few more bites.

«Thing is, the Begmans shouldn't hear about it, on the one hand. But on the other, I feel that perhaps you ought to know, because of your involvement with Luke and Jasra. So what's your schedule? I'd rather tell you later, but if you're going to be tied up, I can give you the gist of it now.»

I glanced at Nayda and Cade. They seemed totally occupied with their food, and I didn't think they could overhear us. Unfortunately, I didn't have any sort of sheltering spells hung.

«Go ahead,» I whispered from behind my wine glass.

«First,» he said, «Random sent me a whole slew of papers to go over. They're the draft of an agreement whereby Amber will grant Kashfa privileged trade status, the same as Begma. So they'll definitely be coming into the Golden Circle.»

«I see,» I said. «That doesn't come as a complete surprise. But it's good to know for sure what's going on.»

He nodded.

«There's a lot more to it, though,» he said.

Just then the musicians stopped playing and I could hear voices from all around the table again. I glanced off to the right and saw that a steward had just taken the players a food tray and some wine. They were setting their instruments aside and taking a break. They had probably been playing for some time before I'd arrived and were doubtless due a rest.

Bill chuckled. «Later,» he said.

«Right.» There followed a funny little fruit dish with an amazing sauce. As I spooned it away, Nayda caught my attention with a gesture and I leaned toward her again.

«So what about tonight?» she whispered.

«What do you mean? I said I'd look for her if she doesn't show up.»

She shook her head. «I wasn't referring to that,» she said. «I meant later. Will you have time to stop by and talk?»

«About what?»

«According to your file you've been in a bit of trouble recently, with someone trying to get you.»

I began wondering about that damned file. But, «It's out of date,» I said. «Whatever's in there has already been cleared up.»

«Really? Then nobody's after you just now?»

«I wouldn't say that,» I replied. «The cast of characters keeps changing.»

«So somebody still has you marked?»

I studied her face.

«You're a nice lady, Nayda,» I said, «but I've got to ask, What is it to you? Everybody has problems. I just have more than usual at the moment. I'll work them out.»

«Or die trying?»

«Maybe. I hope not. But what's your interest?»

She glanced at Cade, who seemed busy with his food,. «It is possible that I could help you.»

«In what fashion?»

She smiled.

«A process of elimination,» she stated.

«Oh? That refers to a person or persons?»

«Indeed.»

«You have some special means of going about this sort of business?»

She continued to smile.

«Yes, it's good for removing problems caused by people,» she continued. «All I'll need are their names and locations.»

«Some sort of secret weapon?»

She glanced at Cade again, since I had raised my voice a bit.

«You might call it that,» she answered.

«An interesting proposal,» I said. «But you still haven't answered my first question.»

«Refresh my memory.»

We were interrupted by the wine steward, who came around topping off goblets, and then by another toast. The first had been to Vialle, led by Llewella. This one was proposed by Orkuz, to «the ancient alliance between Amber and Begma.» I drank to that, and I heard Bill mutter; «It's going to get a bit mire strained.»

«The alliance?» I said…

«Yep.»

I glanced at Nayda, who was staring at me, clearly expecting a resumption of our sotto voces. Bill noted this, too, and turned away. Just then Cade began talking to Nayda, however, so I finished what was on my plate and took a sip of wine while I waited. In a little while the plate was whisked away, to be replaced shortly by another.

I glanced at Bill who glanced at Nayda and Cade, then said, «Wait for the music.»

I nodded. In a sudden moment of silence I overheard Dretha say, «Is it true that King Oberon's ghost is sometimes seen?» Gerard grunted something that sounded like an affirmative just as they were drowned out again. My mind being a lot fuller than my stomach, I kept eating. Cade, trying to be diplomatic or just conversational, turned my way a little later, addressed me and asked my views on the Eregnor situation. He jerked suddenly then and looked at Nayda. I'd a strong feeling she'd just kicked him under the table, which was fine with me because I didn't know what the hell the Eregnor situation was. I mutterred something about there being things to be said for both sides of most matters, which seemed diplomatic enough for anything. If it were something barbed, I supposed I could have countered with an innocent-sounding observation about the Begman party's early arrival, but Eregnor might actually be some tedious conversation piece that Nayda didn't want to get into because it would cut off our own discussion. Also, I'd a feeling that Llewella might suddenly materialize and kick me under the table.

A thought hit suddenly then. Sometimes I'm a little slow. Obviously, they had known Random wasn't here, and from what I already knew and from what Bill had just said, they weren't too happy with whatever Random was about in the neighboring kingdom. Their early arrival seemed intended to embarrass us in some fashion. Did that mean that whatever Nayda was offering me was part of some scheme that fitted in with their general diplomatic strategy on this matter? If so, why me? I was a very poor choice, in that I had no say whatsoever concerning Amber's foreign policy. Were they aware of this? They must be, if their intelligence service were as good as Nayda had indicated. I was baffled, and I was half tempted to ask Bill his views on the Eregnor situation. But then. he might have kicked me under the table.

The musicians, having finished snacking, resumed the entertainment with «Greensleeves,» and Nayda and Bill both leaned toward me simultaneously, then glanced up, their gazes meeting. Both smiled.

«Ladies first,» Bill said loudly.

She nodded to him.

Then, «Have a chance to think about my offer?» she asked me.

«Some,» I said, «but I had a question. Remember?

«What was it?»

«It's kind of you to want to do me a favor,» I said, «but at times such as this, one must be excused for checking the price tag.»

«What if I were to say that your good will would be sufficient?»

«What if I were to say that my good will isn't worth much at the policy level here?»

She shrugged. «Small price for a small return. I already knew that. But you're related to everybody in this place. Nothing may ever happen, but it's conceivable that someone might ask your opinion of us. I'd like you to know you have friends in Begma and to feel kindly disposed toward us if that occurred.»

I studied her very serious expression. There was more to it than that, and we both knew it. Only I didn't know what might be on the horizon, and she obviously did.

I reached out and stroked her cheek once with the back of my hand.

«I am expected to say something nice about you folks if someone should ask me, that's all, and for this you will go out and kill someone for me if I just supply the particulars. Right?»

«In a word, yes,» she replied.

«It makes me wonder why you think you can manage an assassination better than we could. We're old hands at it.»

«We have, as you put it, a secret weapon,» she said. «But I was thinking that this is a personal matter for you, not a state matter - and that you might not want any of the others involved. Also, I can provide a service that will not be traceable.»

Bag of worms time again. Was she implying that she thought I did not trust all of the others here - or that I should not? What did she know that I didn't? Or was she just, guessing, based on Amber's history of intrigue within the family? Or was she intentionally trying to stir up a generational conflict? Would that suit Begma's purpose in some fashion? Or… Was she guessing that such a situation existed and offering to remove a family member for me? And if so, did she think I'd be stupid enough to get someone else to do the job? Or even to discuss such a notion and thereby give Begma a shot at sufficient evidence to have some kind of hold over me? Or…

I drew back from the view. It pleased me that my thought processes were finally working properly for the company my family keeps. (Both my families, actually.) It had taken me a long while to get the hang of it. It felt good.

A simple refusal would foreclose all of the above. But, on the other hand, if I were to string her along a bit, she might prove a tantalizing source of information.

So, «Would you go after anyone I would name?» I said. «Anyone?»

She studied my face very carefully. Then, «Yes,» she answered.

«You must excuse me again,» I responded, «but doing it for such an intangible as my good will causes me to wonder about your good faith.»

Her face reddened. Whether it was a simple blush or anger I could not be certain, because she looked away immediately. This didn't bother me, though, because I was certain it was a buyer's market.

I returned my attention to my food and was able to put away several mouthfuls before she was back again. «Does this mean you won't be stopping by tonight?» she asked.

«I can't,» I said. «I am going to be completely occupied.»

«I can believe you are very busy,» she said. «But does that mean we will not be able to talk at all?»

«It depends entirely on how things break,» I said. «I have an awful lot going on just now, and I may be leaving town soon.»

She started slightly. I was certain she considered asking me where I was going, but thought better of it.

Then, «This is awkward,» she said. «Have you refused my offer?»

«Is the deal only good for this evening?» I asked.

«No, but it was my understanding you were in some peril. The sooner you move against your enemy, the sooner your sleep is untroubled.»

«You feel I am in danger here in Amber?»

She hesitated a moment, then said, «No one is safe, anywhere, from an enemy of sufficient determination and skill.»

«Do you feel the threat to be a local one?» I inquired.

«I asked you to name the party,» she stated. «You are in the best position to know.»

I drew back immediately. It was too simple an entrapment, and obviously she'd already smelled it.

«You've given me much to think about,» I answered, and I returned to my food.

After a time, I saw that Bill was looking at me as if he wanted to say something. I gave him a minuscule shake of my head, which he seemed to understand.

«Breakfast, then?» I heard her say. «This trip you spoke of could mpresent a time of vulnerability. It would be good to settle this before you depart.»

«Nayda,» I said, as soon as I had swallowed, «I would like to be clear on the matter of my benefactors. If I were to discuss this with your father-»

«No!» she interrupted. «He knows nothing about it!»

«Thank you. You must admit my curiosity as to the level at which this plan originates.»

«There is no need to look any further,» she stated. «It is entirely my idea.»

«Same of your earlier statements cause me to infer that you have special connections within the Begman intelligence community.»

«No,» she said, «only the ordinary ones. The offer is my own.»

«But someone would have to… effectuate this design.»

«That is the province of the secret weapon.»

«I would have to know more about it.»

«I've offered you a service and I've promised you total discretion. I will go no further as to means.»

«If this idea is wholly your own, it would seem that you stand to benefit from it personally. How? What's in it for you?»

She looked away. She was silent for a long time. «Your file,» she said at last. «It was… fascinating reading it. You're one of the few people here close to my own age, and you've led such an interesting life. You can't imagine how dull most of the things I have to read are - agricultural reports, trade figures, appropriations studies. I have no social life whatsoever. I am always on call. Every party I attend is really a state function in one form or another. I read your file over and over and I wondered about you. I… I have something of a crush on you. I know it sounds silly, but it's true. When I saw some of the recent reports and realized that you might be in great danger, I decided I would help you if I could. I have access to all sorts of state secrets. One of them would provide me with the means of helping you. Using it would benefit you without damaging Begma, but it would be disloyal of me to discuss it further. I've always wanted to meet you, and I was very jealous of my sister when you took her out today. And I still wish you'd stop by later.»

I stared at her. Then I raised my wineglass to her and took a drink.

«You are… amazing,» I said. I couldn't think of anything else to say. It was either an on-the-spot fabrication or it was true. If it were true, it was somewhat pathetic; if not, I thought it a rather clever bit of quick thinking, calculated to hit me in that wonderfully vulnerable place, the ego. She deserved either my sympathy or my wariest admiration. So I added, «I'd like to meet the person who wrote the reports. There may be a great creative talent going to waste in a government office.»

She smiled, raised her own glass and touched it to mine.

«Think about it,» she said.

«I can honestly say I won't forget you,» I told her.

We both returned to our food, and I spent the next five minutes or so catching up. Bill decently allowed me to do this. Also, I think, he was waiting to be certain that my conversation with Nayda was finally concluded.

At last he winked at me.

«Got a minute?» he asked.

«Afraid so,» I said.

«I won't even ask whether it was business or pleasure going on on the other side.»

«It was a pleasure,» I said, «but a strange business. Don't ask or I'll miss dessert.»

«I'll summarize,» he said. «The coronation in Kashfa will take place tomorrow.»

«Not wasting any time, are we?»

«No. The gentleman who will be taking the throne is Arkans, Duke of Shadburne. He's been in and out of various Kashfan governments in fairly responsible positions any number of times over the years. He actually knows how things work, and he's distantly related to one of the earlier monarchs. Didn't get along well with Jasra's crowd and pretty much stayed at his country place the whole time she was in power. He didn't bother her and she didn't bother him.»

«Sounds reasonable.»

«In fact, he actually shared her sentiments on the Eregnor situation, as the Begmans are well aware-»

«Just what,» I asked, «is the Eregnor situation?»

«It's their Alsace-Lorraine,» he said, «a large, rich area between Kashfa and Begma. It has changed hands back and forth so many times over the centuries that both countries make reasonable-sounding claims to it. Even the inhabitants of the area aren't all that firm on the matter. They have relatives in both directions. I'm not even sure they care which side claims them, so long as their taxes don't go up. I think Begma's claim might be a little stronger, but I could argue the case either way,»

«And Kashfa holds it now; and Arkans says they'll damn well keep it.»

«Right. Which is the same thing Jasra said. The interim ruler, however - Jaston was his name, military man - was actually willing to discuss its status with the Begmans, before his unfortunate fall from the balcony. I think he wanted to repair the treasury and was considering ceding the area in return for the settlement of some ancient war damage claims. Things were actually well along and headed in that direction.»

«And…?» I said.

«In the papers I got from Random, Amber specifically recognizes Kashfa as including the area of Eregnor. Arkans had insisted that go into the treaty. Usually - from everything I've been able to find in the archives - Amber avoids getting involved in touchy situations like this between allies. Oberon seldom went looking for trouble. But Random seems to be in a hurry, and he let this guy drive a hard bargain.»

«He's overreacting,» I said, «not that I blame him. He remembers Brand too well.»

Bill nodded.

«I'm just the hired help,» he said. «I don't want to have an opinion.»

«Well, anything else I should know about Arkans?»

«Oh, there are lots of other things the Begmans don't like about him, but that's the big one - right when they thought they were making some headway on an issue that's been a national pastime for generations. They've even gone to war over the matter in the past. Don't doubt that that's why they came rushing to town. Govern yourself accordingly.»

He raised his goblet anr took a drink.

A little later Vialle said something to Llewella, rose to her feet, and announced that she had to see to something, that she'd be right back. Llewella started to get up also but Vialle put a hand on her shoulder, whispered something, and departed.

«Wonder what that could be?» Bill said.

«Don't know,» I answered.

He smiled.

«Shall we speculate?»

«My mind's on cruise control,» I told him.

Nayda gave me a long stare. I met it and shrugged.

Another little while, and plates were cleared and more were coming. Whatever it was looked good. Before I could find out for certain, though, a member of the general house staff entered and approached.

«Lord Merlin,» she said, «the queen would like to see you.»

I was on my feet immediately. «Where is she?»

«I'll take you to her.»

I excused myself from my companions, borrowing the line that I'd be right back, wondering if it were true. I followed her out and around the corner to a small sitting room, where she left me with Vialle, who was seated in an uncomfortable-looking high-backed chair of dark wood and leather, held together with cast iron studs. If she'd wanted muscle, she'd have sent for Gerard. If she'd wanted a mind full of history and political connivance, Llewella would be here. So I was guessing it involved magic, since I was the authority in residence.

But I was wrong.

«I'd like to speak to you,» she said, «concerning a small state of war in which we, seem about to become engage.

Chapter 8

After a pleasant time with a pretty lady, a series of stimulating hallway conversations, and a relaxing dinner with family and friends, it seemed almost fitting that it be time for something different and distracting. The idea of a small war seemed, at least, better than a big one, though I did not say that to Vialle. A moment's careful thought, and I shaped the query:

«What's going on?»

«Dalt's men are dug in near the western edge of Arden,» she said. «Julian's are strung out facing them. Benedict has taken Julian additional men and weapons. He says he can execute a flanking movement that will take Dalt's line apart. But I told him not to.»

«I don't understand. Why not?»

«Men will die,» she said.

«That's the way it is in war. Sometimes you have no choice.»

«But we do have a choice, of sorts,» she said, «one that I don't understand. And I do want to understand it before I give an order that will result in numerous of deaths.»

«What is the choice?» I asked.

«I came here to respond to a Trump message from Julian,» she said. «He had just spoken with Dalt under a flag of truce. Dalt told him that his objective was not, at this time, the destruction of Amber. He pointed out that he could conduct an expensive attack, though, in terms of our manpower and equipment. He said he'd rather save himself and us the expense, however. What he really wants is for us to turn two prisoners over to him - Rinaldo and Jasra.»

«Huh?» I said. «Even if we wanted to, we can't give him Luke. He's not here.»

«That is what Julian told him. He seemed very surprised. For some reason, he believed we had Rinaldo in custody.»

«Well, we're not obliged to provide the man with an education. I gather he's bean something of a pain for years. I think Benedict has the right answer for him.»

«I did not call you in for advice,» she said.

«Sorry,» I told her. «It's just that I don't like seeing someone trying to pull a stunt like this and actually believing he has a chance of success.»

«He has no chance of success,» Vialle stated. «But if we kill him now, we learn nothing. I would like to find out what is behind this.»

«Have Benedict bring him in. I have spells that will open him up.»

She shook her head.

«Too risky,» she explained. «Once bullets start flying, there's the chance one might find him. Then we lose even though we win.»

«I don't understand what it is that you want of me.»

«He asked Julian to get in touch with us and relay his demand. He's promised to hold the truce until we give him some sort of official answer. Julian says he has the impression that Dalt would settle for either one of them.»

«I don't want to give him Jasra either.»

«Neither do I. What I do want very badly is to know what is going on. There would be small point in releasing Jasra and asking her, since this is a recent development. I want to know whether you have means of getting in touch with Rinaldo. I want to talk to him.»

«Well, uh… yes,» I said. «I have a Trump for him.»

«Use it.»

I got it out. I regarded it. I moved my mind into that special area of alertness and calling. The picture changed came alive…

It was twilight, and Luke stood near a campfire. He had on his green outfit, a light brown cloak about his shoulders clasped with that Phoenix pin.

«Merle,» he said. «I can move the troops pretty fast… When do you want to hit the place and-»

«Put it on hold,» I interrupted. «This is something different.»

«What?»

«Dalt's at the gates; and Vialle wants to talk to you before we take him apart.»

«Dalt? There? Amber?»

«Yes, yes, and yes. He says he'll go and play someplace else if we give him the two things he wants most in the world: you and your mother.»

«That's crazy.»

«Yeah. We think so, too. Will you talk to the queen about it?»

«Sure. Bring me thr-» He hesitated and looked into my eyes.

I smiled.

He extended his hand. I reached forward and took it. Suddenly, he was there. He looked about, saw Vialle. Immediately, he unclasped his sword belt and passed it to me. He approached her, dropped to his right knee, and lowered his head.

«Your Majesty,» he said. «I've come.»

She reached forward and touched him.

«Raise your head,» she said.

He did, and her sensitive fingers slid over the plane and arches of his face.

«Strength,» she said, «and sorrow… So you're Rinaldo. You've brought us some grief.»

«It works both ways, Your Majesty.»

«Yes, of course,» she replied. «Wrongs done and wrongs avenged have a way of spilling over on the innocent. How far will it go this time?»

«This thing with Dalt?» he asked.

«No. This thing with you.»

«Oh,» he said. «It's over. I've done with it. No more bombs or ambushes. I've already told Merlin that.»

«You've known him for several years?»

«Yes.»

«You've become friends?»

«He's one of the reasons I'm calling it off.»

«You must trust him, to come here. I respect that,» she said. «Take this.»

She removed a ring she wore upon her right forefinger. The band was of gold, the stone a milky green; the prongs of its setting caught it in a fashion to suggest some mantic spider guarding dreamland treasures against the daybreak world.

«Your Majesty…»

«Wear it» she said.

«I will,» he replied, slipping it upon the little finger of his left hand. «Thank you.»

«Rise. I want you to know exactly what has occurred.»

He got to his feet, and she began telling him what she had told me, concerning Dalt's arrival, his forces' disposition, his demands, while I stood stunned at the implications of what she had done. She had just placed Luke under her protection. Everyone in Amber knew that ring. I wondered what Random would think. I realized then that there would not be a hearing. Poor Bill. I believe he was really looking forward to arguing Luke's case.

«Yes, I know Dalt,» I heard him saying. «Once we shared… certain goals. But he's changed. He tried to kill me the last time we met. I'm not sure why. At first I thought the wizard of the Keep had taken control of him.»

«And now?»

«Now, I just don't understand. I've a feeling he's on a leash, but I don't know who holds it.»

«Why not the wizard?»

«It makes no sense to go to these lengths to claim me when he had me and let me go just a few days ago. He could simply have left me in my cell.»

«True,» she replied. «What is this wizard's name?»

«Mask,» he answered. «Merlin knows more about him than I do.»

«Merlin,» she said. «Who is this Mask?»

«He's the wizard who took the Keep of the Four Worlds away from Jasra,» I explained, «who, in turn, had taken it away from Sharu Garrul, who is now also a coatrack. Mask wears a blue mask and seems to draw power from a strange fountain in the citadel there. Doesn't seem to like me much either. That's about all I can tell you.»

I'd omitted mentioning my plan to head that way for a showdown soon, because of Jurt's involvement, for the same reason I hadn't wanted Random to know about it. I was certain Luke had tossed me the question because he wasn't sure how far I wanted it taken.

«That doesn't really tell us much,» she decided, «as to Dalt's involvement.»

«There may not be a connection,» I said. «I gather Dalt is a mercenary, and their relationship could have been a one-time thing. He could either be working for someone else now or pulling something on his own.»

«I can't see why anybody wants us badly enough to go to such dramatic lengths,» Luke said. «But I've a score to settle with that guy, and I'm going to combine business with pleasure.»

«What do you mean?» she asked.

«I assume there's a way to get down there in a hurry,» he said.

«One could always trump through to Julian,» I said, but what have you got in mind, Luke?»

«I want to talk to Dalt.»

«It's too dangerous,» she said, «since you're what he wants.»

Luke grinned. «It could be a bit dangerous for Dalt, too,» he replied.

«Wait a minute,» I said. «If you've got more in mind than just talking, you could blow this truce. Vialle's trying to avoid a conflict here.»

«There won't be any conflict,» Luke said. «Look, I've known Dalt since we were kids, and I think he's bluffing. He does that sometimes. He hasn't got the kind of force to risk another attack on Amber. Your guys would slaughter him. If he wants Mom or me, I think he'd be willing to tell me why, and that's what we want to find out, isn't it?»

«Well, yes,» I said. «But-»

«Let me go,» he said to Vialle, «and I'll find a way to get him off your back. I promise.»

«You tempt me,» she told him. «But I don't like your talk of settling accounts with him at this time. As Merlin said, I want to avoid this conflict - for more than one reason.»

«I promise not to let it go that far,» he stated. «I can read the dice. I'm good at playing things by ear. I'm willing to postpone gratification.»

«Merlin…?» she said.

«He's right, in that,» I answered. «He's the deadliest salesman in the southwest.»

«I'm afraid I don't understand the concept.»

«It's a highly specialized art, back on that Shadow Earth we both inhabited. In fact, he's using it on you right now.»

«Do you think he can do what he says?»

«I think he's very good at getting what he wants.»

«Exactly,» Luke observed. «And since we both want the same thing here, I think the future looks bright for all of us.»

«I see what you mean,» she said. «How much danger would this put you near, Rinaldo?»

«I'll be as safe as I am right here in Amber,» he said.

She smiled.

«All right, I'll speak to Julian,» she agreed, «and you can go to him and see what you can learn from Dalt.»

«A moment,» I requested, «It's been snowing on and off, and that's a pretty nasty wind out there. Luke just came in from a more temperate clime, and it's a pretty flimsy-looking cloak he has on. Let me get him something warmer. I've a nice heavy one he can take, if he finds it suitable.»

«Go ahead,» she said.

«We'll be right back.»

She pursed her lips, then nodded.

I passed Luke his weapons belt and he buckled it on. I knew that she knew I just wanted to talk to him alone for a few minutes. And she was certainly aware that I knew it. And we both knew she trusted me, which brightens my existence, as well as complicating it.

As we passed along the hallway toward my rooms, I'd intended to fill Luke in concerning the upcoming coronation in Kashfa, as well as a few other matters. I waited, however, till we were well away firm the sitting room, because Vialle has inordinately acute hearing. This, though, gave Luke a foot in the door, and he began to speak first.

«What a strange, development,» he said. Then, «I like her, but I've a feeling she knows more than she's telling.»

«Probably true,» I answered. «I guess we're all like that.»

«You, too?»

«These days, yes. It's gotten that way.»

«You know anything more about this situation that I should be aware of?»

I shook my head. «This is very new, and she gave you the whole story I know. Would you, perchance, know something about it that we don't?»

«Nope,» he said. «It came as a surprise to me, too. But I've got to pursue it.»

«I guess so.»

We were nearing my stretch of corridor now, and I felt obliged to prepare him.

«We'll be to my rooms in a minute,» I said, «and I just wanted you to know your mother's in there. She's safe, but you won't find her too talkative.»

«I'm familiar with the results of that spell,» he said. «I also recall that you said you know how to lift it. So… That leads into the next topic. I've been thinking. This interlude is slowing us down a bit in our plan for going after Mask and your brother.»

«Not all that much,» I responded.

«We don't really know how long this is going to take me, though,» he went on. «Supposing it drags out a bit? Or supposing something happens to really slow me down?»

I gave him a quick glance.

«Luke, what have you got in mind?» I asked.

«I don't know. I'm just supposing. Okay? I like to plan ahead. Say we get delayed on this attack…»

«All right. Say that,» I said, as we neared my door.

«What I'm getting at,» he continued, «is, what if we get there too late? Supposing we arrive and your brother has already undergone the ritual that turns him into hell on wheels?»

I unlocked my door, opened it, and held it for him. I did not like entertaining the possibility he had just described, because I recalled my father's stories of the times he'd encountered Brand and faced that uncanny power.

Luke stepped inside. I snapped my fingers and a number of oil lamps came to life, their flames dancing for a moment before settling to a glowing steadiness.

Jasra was there in plain sight before him, holding a number of my garments on outstretched arms. I was concerned for a moment as to what his reaction might be.

He halted, studying her, then advanced, his speculations concerning Jurt forgotten. He regarded her for perhaps ten seconds, and I found myself growing uncomfortable. Then he chuckled.

«She always liked being decorative,» he said, «but to combine it with being useful was generally beyond her. You've got to hand it to Mask, even though she probably won't catch the moral of it.»

He turned away and faced me.

«No, she'll probably wake up mean as cat piss and looking for trouble,» he reflected. Then, «She doesn't seem to be holding that cloak you mentioned.»

«I'll get it.»

I moved to an armoire, opened it, and fetched out a dark fur one. As we traded, he ran his hand over it.

«Manticore?» he asked.

«Dire wolf,» I said.

I hung his within and closed the door while he donned mine.

«As I was saying when we came in here,» he offered, «supposing I don't come back?»

«You weren't saying that,» I corrected.

«Not in so many words,» he admitted. «But whether it's a small delay or the big one, what difference does it make? The point is, what if Jurt goes through with the ritual and succeeds in obtaining the powers he's after before we can do anything about it? And supposing I'm not around right then to give you a hand?»

«That's a lot of supposing.» I said.

«That's what separates us from the losers, man. Nice cloak.»

He moved toward the door, glanced back at me, at Jasra.

«Okay,» I said. «You go down there, Dalt cuts off your head and uses it for a football, then Jurt shows up ten feet tall and farting fire. I'm supposing. How does that separate us from the losers?»

He stepped out into the hall. I followed him, snapping my fingers again, leaving Jasra to the darkness.

«It's a matter of knowing your options,» he told me, as I secured the door.

I fell into step beside him as he headed back down the hall.

«A person who acquires that kind of power also picks up a vulnerability, by way of its source,» he said.

«What dows that mean?» I asked.

«Specifically, I don't know,» he told me. «But the power in the Keep can be used against a person who is empowered by the Keep. I learned that much in Sharu's notes. But Mom took them away before I read them all, and I never saw them again. Never trust - that's her motto. I think.»

«You're saying…?»

«I'm saying that if something happens to me and he comes up a winner in this game, I believe she knows some special way of destroying him.»

«Oh.»

«I'm also pretty sure that she'll have to be asked very nicely.»

«Somehow, I think I already knew that.»

He gave a humorless chuckle.

«So you tell her that I've ended the vendetta, that I'm satisfied, and then offer her the citadel in return for her help.»

«What if she says that's not enough?»

«Hell! Turn her back into a coatrack then! It's not as if the guy can't be killed. My dad still died with an arrow through his throat, despite his fancy powers. A deathstroke is still a deathstroke. It's just that delivering it to a guy like that is a lot harder.»

«You really think that'll be enough?» I said.

He halted and looked at me, frowning.

«She'll argue, but of course she'll agree,» he said. «It'll be a step up in the world. And she'll want revenge on Mask as much as that piece of her former holdings. But to answer your question, don't trust her. No matter what she promises, she'll never be happy with less than she had before. She'll be scheming. She'll be a good ally till the job's done. Then you've got to think about protecting yourself against her. Unless…»

«Unless what?»

«Unless I come up with something to sweeten the pot.»

«Like what?»

«I don't know yet. But don't lift that spell until things are definitely settled between Dalt and me. Okay?»

He resumed walking.

«Wait a minute,» I said «What are you planning?»

«Nothing special,» he answered. «Like I told the queen, I'm just goint go play things by ear.»

«I sometimes get the feeling you're as devious as you make her out to be,» I said.

«I hope so,» he replied. «But there's a difference. I'm honest.»

«I don't know that I'd buy a used car from you, Luke.»

«Every deal I make is special,» he said, «and for you it's always top of the line.»

I glanced at him, saw that he kept his expressioin under control.

«What else can I say?» he added, indicating the sitting room with a quick gesture.

«Nothing, now,» I answered, and we entered there.

Vialle turned her head in our direction as we came in, her expression as unreadable as Luke's.

«I take it you are properly attired now?» she asked.

«I am indeed,» he answered.

«Then let's be about this,» she said, raising her left hand, which I saw to contain a Trump. «Come over here, please.»

Luke approached her and I followed him. I could see then that it was Julian's Trump that she held.

«Place your hand upon mu shoulder,» she told him.

«All right.»

He did, and she reached, found Julian and began speaking to him. Shortly, Luke was party to the conversation, explaining what he intended to do. I overheard Vialle saying that the plan had her approval.

Moments later I saw Luke raise his free hand and extend it. I also saw the shadowy figure of Julian reaching forward, though I was not part of the Trump nexus. This was because I had summoned my Logrus Sight and had become sensitive to such things. I needed it for the timing, not wanting Luke whisked away before I could move.

I let my hand fall upon his shoulder and I moved forward as he did.

«Merlin! What are you doing?» I heard Vialle call.

«I'd like to see what happens,» I said. «I'll come right home when things are concluded,» and the rainbow gate closed behind me.

We stood within the flickering of oil lamps inside a large tent. From outside, I couild hear the wind and the sounds of stirring branches. Julian stood facing us. He let Luke's hand fall and regarded him without expression.

«So you are Caine's killer,» he said.

«I am,» Luke replied.

And I was remembering that Caine and Julian had always been particularly close. If Julian were to kill Luke and cry vendetta, I was certain that Random would merely nod and agree. Perhaps he'd even smile. Hard to say. If I were Random, I would greet Luke's removal with a sight of relief. In fact, that was one of the reasons I'd come along. Supposing this whole deal were a setup? I couild'n picture Vialle as a part of it, but she could easily have been deceived by Julian and Benedict. Supposing Dalt wasn't even out there?

Or suppose he were - and that what he'd really asked for was Luke's head? After all, he had tried to kill Luke fairly recently. I had to admit the possibility now, and I also had to admit that Julian was the most likely candidate to be a willing party to such a design. For the good of Amber.

Julian's gaze met mine, and I wore as affectless a mask as his own.

«Good evening, Merlin,» he said. «Do you have a special part in this plan?»

«I'm an observer,» I answered. «Anything else I may do will be dictated by circumstance.»

From somewhere outside I heard the growling of a hellhound.

«So long as you keep out of the,way,» Julian said.

I smiled.

«Sorcerers have special ways of avoiding notice, «I replied.

He studied me again, wondering, I am certain, whether that involved some sort of threat - to defend Luke or avenge him.

Then he shrugged and turned away to where a small table held an unrolled map, weighted in place with a rock and a dagger. He indicated that Luke should join him there, and I followed when he did.

It was a map of the western fringe of Arden, and he pointed out our position on it. Garnath lay to our sout-southwest, Amber to the southeast.

«Our troops are situated here» he said, with a movement of his finger. «And Dalt's are here.» He described another line, roughly paralleling our own.

«What about Benedict's force?» I inquired.

He glanced at me, showing the slightest of frowns.

«It is good for Luke to know that there is such a force,» he stated, «but not its size, location, or objective. That way, if Dalt were to capture and question him, he'd have a lot to worry about and nothing to act upon.»

Luke nodded. «Good idea,» he said.

Julian pointed again, to a spot midway between the lines. «This is the place where I met with him when we spoke earlier,» he explained. «It is a clear, level area, in view of both sides during daylight. I'd suggest we use it again, for your meeting.»

«All right,» Luke said, and I noticed that as he spoke, Julian's fingertips caressed the handle of the dagger that lay before him. Then I saw that Luke's right hand, in casual movement, had come to rest upon his belt, slightly to the left and near to his own dagger.

Simultaneously, then, Luke and Julian smiled at each other, and held it several seconds too long. Luke was bigger than Julian, and I knew he was fast and strong. But Julian had centuries of experience with weapons behind him. I wondered how I would intervene if either made a move toward the other, because I knew that I would try to stop them. But they let their hands fall to their sides then, as if by sudden agreement, and Julian said, «Let me offer you a glass of wine.»

«Don't mind if I do,» Luke replied, and I wondered whether my presence had kept them from fighting. Probably not. I'd the feeling that Julian had just wanted to make his feelings clear, and Luke had wanted to let him know he didn't give a damn. I really don't know which one I'd have bet on.

Julian placed three cups upon the table, filled them with Bayle's Best, gestured for us to help ourselves as he corked the bottle, then picked up the remaining cup and took a swallow before either of us could do more than sniff ours. A quick assurance that we weren't being poisoned and that he wanted to talk business.

«When I met with him we each brought two retainers along,» he said.

«Armed?» I asked.

He nodded.

«More for show, really.»

«Were you mounted or on foot?» Luke asked.

«On foot,» he replied. «We each left our lines at the same time and proceeded at the same pace till we met there in the middle, several hundred paces from either side.»

«I see,» Luke said. «No hitches?»

«None. We talked and returned.»

«When was this?»

«Around sundown.»

«Did he seem to be a man in a normal state of mind?»

«I'd say. I count a certain arrogant posturing and a few insults toward Amber as normal for Dalt.»

«Understandable,» Luke said. «And he wanted me or my mother, or both? And failing to get us, he threatened to attack?»

«Yes.»

«Did he give any indication as to why he wants us?»

«None,» Julian replied.

Luke took a sip of his wine.

«Did he specify whether he wanted us dead or alive?» he asked.

«Yes. He wants you alive,» Julian answered.

«What are your impressions?»

«If I give you to him, I'm rid of you,» Julian said. «If I spit in his eye and take him on in battle, I'm rid of him. Either way, I come out ahead.»

Then his gaze moved to the wine cup, which Luke had picked up with his left hand, and for an instant his eyes widened. I realized he had just then noticed that Luke was wearing Vialle's ring.

«It looks as if I get to kill Dalt, anyway,» he concluded.

«By impressions,» Luke went on, unperturbed. «I meant, do you believe he will really attack? Do you have any idea where he came from? Any indication where he might be headed when he leaves here - if he leaves?»

Julian swirled his wine in his cup.

«I have to go under the assumption that he means what he says and plans to attack. When we first became aware of his troop movements, he was advancing from the general direction of Begma and Kashfa - probably Eregnor, since he hangs out there a lot. Your guess is as good as anyone's as to where he wants to go if he leaves here.»

Luke took a quick swallow of wine a fraction of a second too late for it to conceal what appeared to be a sudden smile. No, I realized right then, Luke's guess was not as good as anyone else's. It was probably a hell of a lot better. I took a quick drink myself, though I'm not sure what expression I might have been concealing.

«You can sleep here,» Julian said. «If you're hungry, I'll have some food brought in. We'll set up this meeting for you at daybreak.»

Luke shook his head.

«Now,» Luke said, with another subtle but obvious display of the ring. «We want it set up right away.»

Julian studied him for several pulsebeats. Then, «You'll not be in the clearest sight of either side in the dark, especially with snow coming down,» he said. «Some little misunderstanding could result in an attack, from either side.»

«If both of my companions bore large torches - and if both of his did the same-» he suggested, «we ought to be visible to both sides at a few hundred yards.»

«Possibly,» Julian said. «All right. I'll have the message sent to his camp, and I'll choose two retainers to accompany you.»

«I already know who I want to have with me,» Luke said. «Yourself and Merlin here.»

«You are a curious individual,» Julian observed. «But yes, I agree. I would like to be there when whatever happens, happens.»

Julian moved to the front of his tent, opened the flap, and summoned an officer with whom he spoke for several minutes. In this space, I asked, «You know what you're doing, Luke?»

«Certainly,» he replied.

«I've a feeling this is a little more than playing it by ear,» I said. «Any reason why you can't tell me your plan?»

He appraised me for a moment, then said, «I only recently realized that I, too, am a son of Amber. We've met, and we've seen that we're too much like each other. Okay. That's good. It means we can do business, right?»

I allowed myself to frown. I wasn't sure what he was trying to say.

He clasped my shoulder lightly.

«Don't worry,» he said. «You can trust me. Not that you have a great deal of choice at this point. But you may a a bit later. I want you to remember then that, whatever happens, you must not interfere.»

«What do you think is going to happen?»

«We haven't the time or the privacy to speculate,» he said. «So let it go, and remember everything I said this evening.»

«As you said, I haven't much choice at this point.»

«I want you to remember it later,» he said, as Julian lowered the flap and turned toward us.

«I'll take you up on that meal,» Luke called to him. «How about you, Merle? Hungry?»

«Lord, no!» I replied. «I just sat through a state dinner.»

«Oh?» he inquired almost too casually. «What was the; ocasion?»

I began to laugh. It was too much for one day. I was about to tell him that we hadn't the time or the rivacy. But Julian had just reopened the tent flap and was calling for an orderly, and I wanted to throw a few curve balls through Luke's broken field just to see what they did to his composure.

«Oh, it was for the Begman prime minister, Orkuz, and some of his staff,» I explained.

He waited while I pretended to take a long drink of wine. Then I lowered it and said, «That's all.»

«Come on, Merlin. What's it about? I've been relatively square with you recently.»

«Oh?» I said.

For a minute I didn't think he'd see the humor in it; but then he began to laugh, too.

«Sometimes the mills of the gods grind too damned fast and we get buried in grist,» he observed. «Look, how about giving me this one for free. I don't have anything brief to trade right now. What's he want?»

«You'll bear in mind that this is classified until tomorrow?»

«Okay. What happens tomorrow?»

«Arkans, Duke of Shadburne, gets crowned in Kashfa.»

«Holy shit!» Luke said. He glanced at Julian, then back at me. «That was a damned clever choice on Random's part,» he said after a time. «I didn't think he'd move this fast.»

He stared off into some vanishing point for a long while. Then he said, «Thanks.»

«Well, does it help or hurt?» I asked.

«Me, or Kashfa?» he said.

«I hadn't split it down that fine.»

«That's okay, because I'm not sure how to take this. I need to do some thinking. Get the big picture.»

I stared at him and he smiled again.

«It is interesting,» he added. «You got anything else for me?»

«That's enough,» I said.

«Yeah, probably you're right,» he agreed. «Don't want to overload the systems. Think we're losing touch with the simple things, old buddy?»

«Not so long as we know each other,» I said.

Julian dropped the flap, returned to us, and sought his wine cup.

«Your food will be along in a few minutes,» he told Luke.

«Thanks.»

«According to Benedict,» he said, «you told Random that Dalt is a son of Oberon.»

«I did,» Luke acknowledged. «One who's walked the Pattern, at that. Does it make a difference?»

Julian shrugged.

«Won't be the first time I've wanted to kill a relative,» he stated. «By the way, you're my nephew, aren't you?»

«Right… uncle.»

Julian swirled the contents of his cup again.

«Well, welcome to Amber,» he said. «I heard a banshee last night. I wonder if there's any connection?»

«Change,» Luke said. «They mean things are changing and they wail for what's being lost.»

«Death. They mean death, don't they?»

«Not always. Sometimes they just show up at turning points for dramatic effect.»

«Too bad,» Julian said. «But one can always hope.»

I thought Luke was going to say something else, but Julian began again before he could.

«How well did you know your father?» he asked.

Luke stiffened slightly, but answered, «Maybe not well as most. I don't know. He was like a salesman. Always coming and going. Didn't usually stay with us long.»

Julian nodded.

«What was he like, near the end?» he inguired.

Luke studied his hands.

«Well, he wasn't exactly normal, if that's what you mean,» he finally said. «Like I was telling Merlin earlier, I think the process he undertook to gain his powers might have unbalanced him some.»

«I never heard that story.»

Luke shrugged.

«The details aren't all that important just the results.»

«You're saying he wasn't a bad father before that?»

«Hell, I don't know. I never had another father to a compare him to. Why do you ask?»

«Curiosity. It's a part of his life I knew nothing about.»

«Well, what kind of brother was he?»

«Wild,» Julian said. «We didn't get along all that well. So we pretty much stayed out of each other's ways. He was smart, though. Talented, too. Had a flare for the arts. I was just trying to figure how much you might take after him.»

Luke turned his hands palms upward. «Beats me,» he said.

«Well, no matter,» Julian replied, setting down his cup and turning toward the front of the tent again. «I believe your food is about to arrive.»

He moved off in that direction. I could hear the tiny crystals of ice rattling against the canvas overhead, and a few growls from outside: concerto for wind and hellhound. No banshees, though. Not yet.

Chapter 9

I walked a pace or so behind Luke, a couple of yards off to his left, trying to keep even with Julian, who was over to the right. The torch I bore was a big thing, about six tapering feet of pitchy wood, sharpened at its terminus to make it easy to drive into the ground. I held it at arm's distance, because the oily flames licked and lashed in all directions in accord with vagaries of the wind. Sharp, icy flakes fell upon my cheek, my forehead, my hands, with a few catching in my eyebrows and lashes. I blinked vigorously as the heat of the torch melted them and they ran into my eyes. The grasses beneath my feet were sufficiently cold to give a brittle, crunching sensation every time I took a step. Directly ahead I could see the slow advance of two other torches toward us, and the shadowy figure of a man who walked between them. I blinked and waited for the flow from one or the other of his torches to give me a better look. I'd only seen him once, very briefly, via Trump, back at Arbor House. His hair looked golden, or even coppery, by what light there was upon it, but I remembered it as a kind of dirty blond by natural light. His eyes, I recalled, were green, though there was no way I could see that now. I did begin to realize for the first time, however, that he was pretty big - either that or he had chosen fairly short torchbearers. He had been alone that one time I'd seen him, and I had had no standard for comparison. As the light from our torches reached him I saw that he had on a heavy, green sleeveless doublet without a collar, over something black and also heavy, with sleeves that extended down his arms to vanish within green gauntlets. His trousers were black, as were the high boots they entered; his cloak was black and lined with an emerald green that caught our light as the cloak furled about him in shifting, oily landscapes of yellow and red. He wore a heavy circular medallion, which looked to be gold, on a chain about his neck; and though I could not make out the details of its device, I was certain that it bore a Lion rending a Unicorn. He came to a halt about ten or twelve paces from Luke, who stopped an instant later. Dalt gestured, and his retainers drove the butts of their torches into the ground. Julian and I immediately did the same, and we remained near them, as Dalt's men were doing. Then Dalt nodded to Luke, and they both advanced again, meeting at the center of the box formed by the lights, clasping right forearms, staring into each other's eyes. Luke's back was to me, but I could see Dalt's face. He showed no signs of emotion, but his lips were already moving. I couldn't hear a word that was being said, between the wind and the fact that they seemed intentionally to be keeping it low. At least, I finally had a point of reference for Dalt's size. Luke is about six three, and I could see that Dalt was several inches taller. I glanced at Julian, but he was not looking my way. I wondered how many eyes regarded us from both sides of the field.

Julian is always a bad person to check for reactions. He was simply watching the two of them, expressionless, stolid. I cultivated the same attitude, and the minutes passed, the snow kept falling.

After a long while Luke turned away and headed back toward us. Dalt moved off toward one of his torchbearers. Luke stopped midway between us, and Julian and I moved to join him.

«What's up?» I asked him.

«Oh,» he said, «I think I found a way of settling this without a war.»

«Great,» I said. «What did you sell him?»

«I sold him on the idea of fighting a duel with me to determine how this thing goes,» he explained.

«God damn it, Luke!» I said. «That guy's a pro! And I'm sure he's got our genetic package for strength. And he's been living in the field all this time. He's probably in top shape. And he outweighs you and outreaches you.»

Luke grinned.

«So, I might get lucky,» he said. He looked at Julian. «Anyway, if you can get a message back to the lines and tell them not to attack when we start this thing, Dalt's side will be holding still for it, too.»

Julian looked over to where one of Dalt's torchbearers had started back toward his lines. He turned toward his own side then and executed a number of hand signals. Shortly, a man emerged from cover and began jogs toward us.

«Luke;» I said. «This is crazy. The only way you're going to win is to get Benedict for a second and then break a leg.»

«Merle,» he said, «let it go. This is between Dalt and me. Okay?»

«I've got a bunch of fairly fresh spells,» I said. «We can let this thing start, and then I'll hit him with one at the right time. It'll look as if you did it.»

«No!» he said. «This really is a matter of honor. So you've got to stay out of it.»

«Okay,» I said, «if that's how you want it.»

«Besides, nobody's going to die,» he explained. «Neither of us wants that right now, and it's part of the deal. We're too valuable to each other alive. No weapons. Strictly mano a mano.»

«Just what,» Julian inquired, «is the deal?»

«If Dalt whips my ass,» Luke replied, «I'm his prisoner. He'll withdraw his force and I'll accompany him.»

«Luke, you're crazy!» I said.

Julian glared at me.

«Continue,» he said.

«If I win, he's my prisoner,» he went on. «He goes back with me to Amber, or anywhere else I care to transport him, and his officers withdraw his troops.»

«The only way of assuring such a withdrawal,» Julian said, «is to let them know that if they don't they're doomed.»

«Of course,» Luke said. «That's why I told him that Benedict is waiting in the wings to roll down on him. I'm sure it's the only reason he's agreed to do this.»

«Most astute,» Julian observed. «Either way, Amber wins. What are you trying to buy with this, Rinaldo, for yourself?»

Luke smiled.

«Think about it,» he said.

«There is more to you than I'd thought, Nephew,» he replied. «Move over there to my right, would you?»

«Why?»

«To block his view of me, of course. I've got to let Benedict know what's going on.»

Luke moved while Julian located his Trumps and is shuffled out the proper one. In the meantime the runner from our lines had come up and stood waiting. Julian put away all of the cards but one then, and commenced his communication. It lasted for a minute or so, then Julian paused to speak with the runner and send him back. Immediately, he continued the conversation with the card. When he finally stopped talking or seeming to listen, he did not restore the Trump to the inner pocket where he kept the others, but retained it in his hand out of sight. I realized then that the contact would not be broken, that he would stay in touch with Benedict until this business was finished, so that Benedict would know in an instant what it was that he must do.

Luke unfastened the cloak I'd lent him, came over, and handed it to me.

«Hold this till I'm done, will you?» he said.

«Yes,» I agreed, accepting it. «Good luck.»

He smiled briefly and turned away. Dalt was already moving toward the center of the square.

Luke advanced, also. He and Dalt both halted, facing each other, while there were still several paces separating them. Dalt said something I could not hear, and Luke's reply was lost to me, also.

Then they raised their arms. Luke struck a boxer's stance, and Dalt's hands came up in a wrestler's defense. Luke threw the first punch - or maybe it was just a feint; either way, it didn't land toward Dalt's face. Dalt brushed at it and stepped back, and Luke moved in quickly and landed two blows on his midsection. Another shot at his face was blocked, though, and Luke began to circle, jabbing. Dalt tried rushing twice then and got clipped both times, a little trickle of blood coming from his lip after the second one. On his third rush, though, he sent Luke sprawling but was unable to crash down on top of him, as Luke was able to twist partly away and roll when he hit. He tried kicking Dalt in the right kidney, though, as soon as he'd scrambled to his feet, and Dalt caught his ankle and rose, bearing him over backward. Luke landed a kick on the side of his knee with his other foot as he went down, but Dalt kept hold of the foot, bearing down and beginning to twist. Luke bent forward then, grimacing, and managed to catch Dalt's right wrist with both hands and tear his foot free of the larger man's grip. He doubled and moved forward then, still holding the wrist, regaining his feet and straightening as he advanced, passing under Dalt's arm on his right side, turning, and dragging him face downward to the ground. He moved quickly then, bending the arm up into a hammerlock, holding it with his right hand and seizing a handful of Dalt's hair with his left. But as he drew Dalt's head backward - preparatory, I was certain, to slamming it a few times against the ground - I saw that it wasn't going to work. Dalt stiffened, and his arm started to move downward. He was straightening it against Luke's lock. Luke tried pushing Dalt's head forward several times then, without effect. It became apparent that if he released either hand he was in trouble, and he wasn't able to maintain the hold. Dalt was just too damned strong. Seeing this, Luke threw all of his weight against Dalt's back, pushed, and sprang up. He wasn't quite fast enough, however, because Dalt's freed arm swung around and clipped him across the left calf as he moved away. Luke stumbled. Dalt was up and swinging immediately. He caught Luke with a wild haymaker that knocked him over backward. This time, when he threw himself upon Luke, Luke was unable to roll free; he only managed to turn his body partly. Dalt landed with considerable force, twisting past a slow knee aimed toward his groin. Luke did not get his hands free in time to defend against a punch that caught him on the left side of the jaw. He turned with it and fell completely flat. Then his right hand snapped upward, its heel striking the point of Dalt's chin, fingers hooking toward the eyes. Dalt jerked his head back and slapped the hand away. Luke threw a hammer blow toward his temple with the other hand, and though it connected, Dalt was already moving his head to the side, and I couldn't see that it had any effect. Luke dropped both elbows to the ground and pushed himself up and forward, bowing. His forehead struck Dalt's face, where, I am not precisely certain - before he fell back. Moments later, Dalt's nose began bleeding as he reached out with his left hand to grasp Luke by the neck. His right hand, open, slapped Luke hard on the side of the head. I saw Luke's teeth just before it landed, as he tried biting at the incoming hand, but the grip on his neck prevented this. Dalt moved to repeat the blow, but this time Luke's left arm came up and blocked it, while his right hand caught hold of Dalt's left wrist in an effort to pull it away from his neck. Dalt's right hand snaked in past Luke's left then, to take hold, creating a two-handed grip on Luke's neck, thumbs moving to depress the windpipe.

I thought that might well be it. But Luke's right hand suddenly moved to Dalt's left elbow, his left hand crossed both of Dalt's arms to seize the left forearm, and Luke twisted his body and cranked the elbow skyward. Dalt went over to the left and Luke rolled to the right and regained his footing, shaking his head as he did so. This time he did not try kicking Dalt, who was already recovering. Dalt again extended his arms, Luke raised his fists, and they began circling once more.

The snow continued to fall, the wind to slacken and surge, sometimes driving the icy flakes hard against faces, other times permitting the snow to descend like a troubled curtain. I thought of all the troops about me and wondered for a moment whether I would find myself in the middle of a battlefield when this thing was finally over. The fact that Benedict was ready to swoop down from somewhere and wreak extra havoc did not exactly comfort me, even though it meant that my side would probably win. I remembered then that my being there was my own choice.

«Come on, Luke!» I yelled. «Flatten him!»

This produced a very odd effect. Immediately, Dalt's torchbearers began shouting encouragement to him. Our voices must have carried though the wind's lulls, for shortly there came waves of sound, which I at first took to be some distant part of the storm and only later realized to be shouting coming from both lines. Only Julian remained silent, inscrutable.

Luke continued to circle Dalt, throwing jabs and trying occasional combinations, and Dalt kept swatting away at them and trying to catch an arm. Both of them had blood on their faces and both seemed a bit slower than they had been earlier. I'd a feeling they'd both been hurt, though it was impossible to guess to what extent. Luke had opened a small cut high on Dalt's left cheek. Both of their faces were beginning to look puffy.

Luke connected with another body combination, but it was hard to say how much force there was behind the blows. Dalt took them stoically and found extra energy somewhere to rush forward and attempt to grapple. Luke was slow in withdrawing and Dalt managed to draw him into a clinch. Both tried kneeing the other; both turned their hips and avoided it. They kept tangling arms and twisting as Dalt continued reaching after a better grip and Luke kept defeating the efforts while attempting to free an arm wind get in a punch. Both tried several forehead bashes and instep stompings, but all of these were avoided by the other. Finally, Luke succeeded in hooking Dalt's leg, driving him backward to the ground.

Half kneeling atop him then, Luke caught him with a left cross and followed it immediately with a right. He tried for another left then, and Dalt caught his fist, surged upward and threw him back to the ground. As Dalt hurled himself upon him again, his face a half mask of blood and dirt, Luke was somehow able to strike him beneath the heart, but this did not stop Dalt's right fist which came down like a falling rock on the side of Luke's jaw. Dalt followed it with a weak left to the other side, a weak right, paused to suck in a great breath, then landed a solid left. Luke's head rolled to the side and he did not move.

Dalt crouched there atop him, panting like a dog, studying his face as if suspecting some trick, his right hand twitching as if he were contemplating striking again.

But nothing happened. They remained in that position for ten or fifteen seconds before Dalt slowly drew himself erect, eased off of Luke to Luke's left, then rose carefully to his feet, swayed for a second and straightened fully.

I could almost taste the death spell I had hung earlier. It would only take a few seconds to nail him, and no one would be certain how he had died. But I wondered what would happen if he were to collapse now, too. Would both sides attack? It was neither this nor humanitarian considerations that finally restrained me, however. Instead, it was Luke's words, «This really is a matter of honor. So you've got to stay out of it,» and, «Nobody's going to die… We're too valuable to each other alive.»

Okay. There was still no sound of trumpets. No rush of men to combat. It seemed that things might actually go as had been agreed. This was the way Luke had wanted it. I was not going to interfere.

I watched as Dalt knelt and began to raise Luke from the ground. Immediately, he lowered him, then called to his two torchmen to come and carry him. Dalt rose again and faced Julian as the men advanced.

«I call upon you to observe the rest of our agreement,» he said loudly.

Julian inclined his head slightly.

«We will, provided you do,» he answered. «Have your men out of here by daybreak.»

«We leave now,» Dalt replied, and he began to turn away.

«Dalt!» I called out.

He turned back and regarded me.

«My name is Merlin,» I said. «We've met, though I don't know whether you remember.»

He shook his head.

I raised my right arm and pronounced my most useless and at the same time flashiest spell. The ground erupted before him, showering him with dirt and gravel. He stepped back and wiped his face, then looked down into the rough trench that had appeared.

«That is your grave,» I said, «If Luke's death comes of this.»

He studied me again.

«Next time I'll remember you,» he said, and he turned and followed the men who were carrying Luke back to his lines.

I looked over at Julian, who was watching me. He turned away and uprooted his torch. I did the same. I followed him back the way we had come.

Later, in his tent, Julian observed, «That solves one problem. Possibly two.»

«Maybe,» I said.

«It takes care of Dalt for the moment.»

«I guess.»

«Benedict tells me the man is already breaking camp.»

«I don't think we've seen the last of him.»

«If that's the best he can manage for an army these days, it won't matter.»

«Don't you get the impression this was an impromptu mission?» I asked. «I'd guess he pulled his force together very fast. It makes me think he had a tight schedule.»

«You may be right there. But he really gambled.»

«And he won.»

«Yes, he did. And you shouldn't have shown him your power, there at the end»

«Why not?»

«You'll have a wary enemy if you ever go after him.»

«He needed warning.»

«A man like that lives with risks. He calculates and he acts. However he figures you, he won't change his plans at this point. Besides, you haven't seen the last of Rinaldo either. He's the same way. Those two understand each other.»

«You may be right.»

«I am.»

«If the fight had gone the other way, do you think his army would have stood for it?» I asked.

Julian shrugged. «He knew mine would if he won, because he knew I stood to gain by it. That was sufficient.»

I nodded.

«Excuse me,» he said. «I have to report this business to Vialle now. I assume you'll want to trump through when I've finished?»

«Yes.» He produced a card and set about the business. And I found myself wondering, not for the first time, just what it was that Vialle sensed when it came to a Trump contact. I always see the other person myself, and all of the others say that they do, too. But Vialle, as I understood it, had been blind from birth. I've always felt it would be impolite to ask her, and for that matter it's occurred to me that her answer probably wouldn't make much sense to a sighted person. I'll probably always wonder, though.

As Julian addressed her shadowy presence, I turned my mind to the future. I was going to have to do something about Mask and Jurt soon, and it looked now as if I'd be. doing it without Luke. Did I really want to follow his advice and try to talk Jasra into an alliance against them? Would the benefits really be worth the risk? And if I didn't, how would I manage the thing? Maybe I should make my way back to that strange bar and see about renting the Jabberwock. Or the Vorpal Sword. Or both; Maybe -

I heard my name mentioned, and I drifted back to the present moment, present problems. Julian was explaining something to Vialle, but I knew there wasn't all that much to explain. So I got to my feet, stretched, and summoned the Logrus Sight.

I saw her ghostly form clearly when I directed my vision toward the area before Julian: She was in that same stiff chair where I had last seen her. I wondered whether she had remained there the entire while or had just returned. I hoped she'd had a chance to go back and eat that dessert I hadn't had a shot at.

Julian glanced at me, then, «If you're ready to go, she's ready to take you through,» he said.

I crossed over and stood beside him, dropping the Logrus vision as I did so. I had decided it was not a good idea to bring the forces of the Logrus and the Pattern into too great a proximity. I reached out and touched the card, and Vialle's image sprang into full focus. A moment, and it was no longer an image.

«Anytime,» she said, extending a hand. I reached out and took hold of it gently.

«So long, Julian,» I said, as I stepped forward.

He did not reply. Or if he did, I didn't catch it.

«I did not mean for things to go this way,» she told me immediately, not releasing my hand.

«There was no way of foreseeing what happened,» I said.

«Luke knew,» she replied. «It makes sense now, doesn't it? Some of those little remarks he made? He planned the challenge all along.»

«I guess so,» I said.

«He's gambling on something. I wish I knew what.»

«I can't help you on that,» I answered. «He didn't say anything to me about it.»

«But you will be the one with whom he will get in touch, eventually,» she said. «I want to know immediately when you hear from him.»

«All right,» I agreed.

She released my hand.

«It would seem there is nothing more to say, for the moment.»

«Well,» I began, «there is another matter I think you ought to know about.»

«Oh?»

«It concerns Coral's not being present at dinner this evening.»

«Go on,» she said.

«You are aware that we took a long walk about town today?»

«I am,» she said.

«We wound up below,» I continued, «in the chamber of the Pattern. She'd expressed a desire to see it.»

«Many visitors do. It is pretty much a matter of judgment whether to take them. Often they lose interest, though, when they learn about the stairway.»

«I did tell her about it,» I said, «but it didn't discourage her. When she got there, she set foot upon the Pattern-»

«No!» she cried. «You should have watched her more closely! All that other trouble with Begma… and now this! Where is her body?»

«Good question,» I responded. «I don't know. But she was alive the last time I saw her. You see, she claimed Oberon was her father, and then she proceeded to walk the Pattern. When she'd finished, she had it transport her somewhere. Now, her sister - who is aware that we went off together - is concerned. She was pestering me through dinner as to where Coral might be.»

«What did you tell her?»

«I told her that I'd left her sister enjoying some, of the beauties of the palace and that she might be a bit late to dinner. As things wore on, though, she seemed to grow more concerned and made me promise to search for her tonight if she didn't turn up. I didn't want to talk about what had really happened because I didn't want to go into the business of Coral's parentage.»

«Understandable.» she replied. «Oh, my.»

I waited, but she said nothing more. I continued to wait.

Finally, «I was not aware of the late king's affair in Begma,» she said, «so it is difficult to assess the impact of this revelation. Did Coral give you any indication as to how long she intended to stay away? And for that matter, did you provide her with any means of return?»

«I gave her my Trump,» I said, «but she hasn't been in touch. I got the impression she didn't intend to be away for too long, though.»

«This could be serious,» Vialle decided, «for reasons other than the obvious. How does Nayda strike you?»

«She seemed quite sensible,» I said. «Also, I believe she rather likes me.»

Vialle brooded a moment, then said, «If word of this gets to Orkuz, he could well get the impression that we are holding her hostage against his proper performance in any negotiations which might arise out of the situation in Kashfa.»

«You're right. I hadn't thought of that.»

«He will. People tend to think of such matters when dealing with us. So what we need to do is buy some time and try to turn her up before this begins looking suspicious.»

«I understand,» I said.

«Most likely, he will send to her quarters soon - if he hasn't already done so - to discover why she was not present at dinner. If he can be satisfied now, you will have the entire night in which to try to locate her.»

«How?»

«You're the magician. You figure it out. In the meantime, you say that Nayda is sympathetic?»

«Very much so.»

«Good. It seems to me that the best course of action then would be to attempt to enlist her aid. I trust you to be tactful and do this in the least distressing manner possible, of course-»

«Naturally-» I began.

«-because of her recent illness,» she went on. «All we need to do now is give the second daughter a heart attack.»

«Illness?» I inquired. «She hadn't mentioned anything about that.»

«I'd imagine the memory is still distressing. She was apparently quite close to death until very recently, then rallied suddenly and insisted on accompanying her father on this mission. He's the one who told me about it.»

«She seemed fine at dinner,» I said lamely.

«Well, try to keep her that way. I want you to go to her immediately, tell her what happened as diplomatically as possible, and try to get her to cover for her sister while you search for her. There is, of course, the risk that she will not believe you and that she will go directly to Orkuz. Perhaps you might employ a spell to prevent this. But we have no other choice that I can see. Tell me whether I'm wrong.»

«You're not wrong,» I said.

«Then I suggest you be about it… and report back to me immediately if there are any problems, or any progress, no matter what the hour.»

«I'm on my way,» I said.

I departed the room in a hum but shortly came to a halt. It occurred to me that while I knew the general area of the palace in which the Begman party was quartered, I did not really know where Nayda's rooms were located. I did not want to go back and ask Vialle because it would make me look stupid for not having found out during dinner.

It took me the better part of ten minutes to turn up a member of the palace staff able to give me directions - along with a smirk - and then to follow them at a jog until I stood before Nayda's door.

I ran my hand through my hair, brushed off my trousers and jacket, wiped my boots on the backs of my pants legs, took a deep breath, smiled, exhaled, and knocked.

The door opened a few moments later. It was Nayda. She returned my smile and stepped aside.

«Come in» she said.

«I was expecting the maid,» I told her as I entered. «You surprised me.»

«Since I was expecting you, I sent her off to bed early,» she replied.

She had changed into an outfit that looked like a gray sweat suit with a black sash. She also had on a pair of black slipper, and she had removed most of her makeup. Her hair was now drawn back severely and tied with a black ribbon. She gestured toward a couch, but I did not move to seat myself.

I clasped her shoulder lightly and stared into her eyes. She moved nearer.

«How are you feeling?» I asked.

«Find out,» she said softly.

I could not even permit myself a sigh. Duty called. I slipped my arms around her, drew her to me, and kissed her. I held the pose for several seconds, then drew away, smiled again, and said, «You feel fine to me. Listen, there are some things I did not tell you-»

«Shall we sit down?» she said, taking my hand and leading me toward the couch.

Vialle had told me to be diplomatic, so I followed her.

Immediately, she continued our embrace and began to add refinements. Danm! And me constrained to rush her out to cover for Coral. If she would, I'd be happy to cover her afterward. Or any other interesting position Begmans might go in for. I'd better ask quickly, though, I decided. A couple of minutes more and it would be very undiplomatic to begin talking about her sister. Today was just a bad day when it came to timing.

«Before we get too involved here,» I said, «I've got to ask a favor of you.»

«Ask me anything,» she said.

«I think there's going to be a delay in turning up your sister,» I explained, «and I'd hate to worry your father. Do you know whether he's sent to her rooms yet, or been by them, to check on her?»

«I don't believe so. He strolled off with Gerard and Mr. Roth after dinner. I don't think he's returned to his apartment yet.»

«Could you possibly find a way of giving him the impression that she hasn't strayed? Buy me some time to find out where she's off to?»

She looked amused.

«And those things you haven't told me…?»

«I'll give you the whole story if you'll do this for me.»

She traced my jawline with her index finger.

«All right,» she said then. «We have a deal. Don't go away.»

She rose, crossed the room, and passed out into the hall, leaving the door a few inches ajar. Why hadn't I had a nice normal affair since Julia? The last woman I'd made love to had actually been under the control of that strange body-shifting entity. Now… Now there was the faintest of shadows across the couch, as I realized that I'd rather be holding Coral than her sister. That was ridiculous. I'd only known her for half a day…

There had simply been too much activity since my return. I was getting punchy. That had to be it.

When she returned she seated herself on the couch again, but this time with a couple of feet separating us. She seemed cheerful enough, though she made no move to resume our earlier occupation.

«It's taken care of,» she said. «He will be misled, if he asks.»

«Thanks,» I told her.

«Now it's your turn,» she stated. «Tell me things.»

«All right,» I began, and I launched into the story of Coral and the Pattern.

«No,» she interrupted. «Start at the beginning, would you?»

«What do you mean?»

«Give me your whole day, from the time you left the palace togethet until you parted.»

«That's silly,» I protested.

«Humor me,» she said. «You owe me one, remember?»

«Very well,» I agreed, and I started again. I was able to skip over the bit about blasting the table in the cafe, but when I glossed over the business in the sea caves by saying that we'd looked around in them and found them pretty, she interrupted me.

«Stop,» she said. «You're leaving something out. What occurred in the caves?»

«What makes you say that?» I asked.

«That is a secret I do not care to share just now.» she explained. «Suffice it to say I have a means of spotchecking your veracity.»

«It's not relevant,» I said. «It will just confuse the issue. That's why I omitted it.»

«You said you'd give me the whole afternoon.»

«All right, lady,» I agreed, and I did.

She bit her lip while I told her about Jurt and the zombies, and she licked idly at the beads of blood that appeared thereafter.

«What are you going to do about him?» she asked suddenly.

«That's my problem,» I said then. «I promised you the afternoon, not my memoirs and survival plans.»

«It's just that… Remember, I offered to try to help you?»

«What do you mean? Do you think you can nail Jurt for me? I've got news for you: He's practically a candidate for godhood at the moment.»

«What do you mean by `godhood'?» she asked.

I shook my head.

«It would take most of the night to tell you this story properly, and we don't have the time, not if I'm going to start looking for Coral soon. Just let me finish with the business about the Pattern, will you?»

«Go ahead.»

I did, and she showed no surprise whatsoever at the matter of her sister's paternity. I was going to question her as to her lack of reaction. Then I said, the hell with it. She's done what I wanted, and I did what I promised. She hasn't had a heart attack. And now it's time to go.

«That's it,» I said, and I added, «Thanks.»

I began to rise, and she moved quickly and was hugging me again.

I returned her embrace for a moment, then said, «I'd really better be going, Coral could be in danger.»

«The hell with her,» she said. «Stay with me. We have more important things to talk about.»

I was surprised by her callousness, but I tried not to show it.

«I've a duty to her,» I said, «and I've got to see to it now.»

«All right,» she said, sighing. «I'd better come along and give you a hand.»

«How?» I asked.

«You'd be surprised,» she told me, and she was on her feet and smiling a twisted smile.

I nodded, feeling that she was probably right.

Chapter 10

We hiked back along the hallway to my apartment. When I opened the door and summoned the lights, Nayda did a fast survey of the first room. She froze when she saw my coatrack.

«Queen Jasra!» she said.

«Yep. She had a disagreement with a sorcerer named Mask,» I explained. «Guess who won?»

Nayda raised her left hand and moved it in a slow pattern-behind Jasra's neck and down her back, across her chest, then downward again. I did not recognize any of the movements she was performing.

«Don't tell me that you're a sorceress, too,» I said. «It seems that everyone I run into these days has had some training in the Art.»

«I am not a sorceress,» she answered, «and I've had no such training. I have only one trick and it is not sorcery, but I use it for everything.»

«And what is that trick?» I asked.

She ignored the question, then said, «My, she's certainly tightly bound. The key lies somewhere in the region of her solar plexus. Did you know that?»

«Yes,» I replied. «I understand the spell fully.»

«Why is she here?»

«Partly because I promised her son Rinaldo I'd rescue her from Mask, and partly as an assurance against his good behavior.»

I pushed the door shut and secured it. When I turned back, she was facing me.

«Have you seen him recently?» she said in a conversational tone.

«Yes. Why?»

«Oh, no special reason.»

«I thought we were trying to help each other,» I said.

«I thought we were looking for my sister.»

«It can wait another minute if you know something special about Rinaldo.»

«I was just curious where he might be right now.»

I turned away and moved to the chest where I keep art supplies. I removed the necessary items and took them to my drawing board. While I was about it, I said, «I don't know where he is.»

I set up the piece of pasteboard, seated myself and closed my eyes, summoning a mental image of Coral, preliminary to beginning her sketch. Again, I half wondered whether the picture in my mind, along with the appropriate magical endorsement, would be sufficient for contact. But now was not the time to mess around being experimental. I opened my eyes and began to draw. I used the techniques I'd learned in the Courts, which are different yet similar to those employed in Amber. I was qualified to execute them in either fashion, but I'm faster with the style I learned first.

Nayda came over and stood near, watching, not asking whether I minded. As it was, I did not.

«When did you see him last?» she asked.

«Who?»

«Luke.»

«This evening,» I answered.

«Where?»

«He was here earlier.»

«Is he here now?».

«No.»

«Where did you last see him?»

«In the forest of Arden. Why?»

«It seams a strange place to part.»

I was working on Coral's eyebrows.

«We parted under strange circumstances,» I said.

A little more work about the eyes, a bit on the her…

«Strange? In what way?» she asked.

More color to the cheeks…

«Never mind,» I told her.

«All right,» she said. «It's probably not that important.»

I decided against rising to that bait, because I was suddenly getting something. As had occasionally happened in the past, my concentration on the Trump as I put the final touches to it was sufficiently intense to reach through and…

«Coral!» I said, as the features moved, perspectives shifted.

«Merlin…?» she answered. «I… I'm in trouble.»

Oddly, there was no background whatever. Just blackness. I felt Nayda's hand upon my shoulder.

«Are you all right?» I asked.

«Yes… It's dark here,» she said. «Very dark.»

Of course. One cannot manipulate Shadow in the absence of light. Or even see to use a Trump.

«That's where the Pattern sent you?» I asked.

«No,» she answered.

«Take my hand,» I said. «You can tell me about it afterward.».

I extended my hand and she reached toward it.

«They-» she began.

And with a stinging flash the contact was broken. I felt Nayda stiffen beside me.

«What happened?» she asked.

«I don't know. We were suddenly blocked. I can't tell what forces were involved.»

«What are you going to do?»

«Try again in a little bit,» I said. «If it were a reaction thing, resistance will probably be high just now, and it may ease up later. At least she says she's all right.»

I withdrew the packet of Trumps I normally carry, shufflied out Luke's. Now seemed as good a time as any to see how he was faring. Nayda glanced at the card and smiled.

«I thought you just saw him a little while ago,» she said.

«A lot can happen in a little while.»

«I'm certain a lot has happened.»

«You think you know something about what's going on with him?» I asked.

«Yes. I do.»

I raised the Trump. «What?» I said.

«I'd be willing to wager, you won't get through to him.»

«We'll see.»

I concentrated and I reached. I reached again. A minute or so later I wiped my brow.

«How'd you know?» I asked.

«Luke's blocking you. I would, too… under the circumstances.»

«What circumstances?»

She gave me a quirked smile, crossed to a chair, and sat down.

«Now I have something to trade with you again,» she said.

«Again?»

I studied her. Something jiggled and fell into place. «You've been calling him `Luke' rather than `Rinaldo,' «I said.

«So I have.»

«I'd been wondering when you'd show up again.»

She continued to smile.

«I went and shot my eviction-notice spell,» I observed. «Can't complain, though. It probably saved my life. Do I owe you that one, in some roundabout fashion?»

«I'm not proud. I'll take it.»

«I'm going to ask you again what you want, and if you say it's to help me or to protect me, I'm going to turn you into a coatrack.»

She laughed.

«I'd have guessed you'd take whatever help you could get right now,» she said.

«A lot depends on what you mean by `help'.»

«If you'll tell me what you have in mind, I'll tell you whether I can be of any assistance.»

«All right,» I said. «I'm going to change clothes while I talk, though. I don't feel like storming a citadel dressed like this. May I lend you something tougher than a sweat suit?»

«I'm fine. Start at Arbor House, okay?»

«Okay,» I said, and I proceeded to fill her in while I garbed myself in tougher fare. She was no longer a pretty lady to me, but rather a nebulous entity in human form. She seated herself while I was talking and stared at the wall, or through it, over steepled fingers. When I was finished, she kept staring, and I went over to my drawing board, took up Coral's Trump, tried again, but couldn't get through. I tried Luke's card, also, with the same results.

As I was about to replace Luke's Trump, square the deck, and case it, I glimpsed the next lower card and a lightning chain of recollections and speculations flashed through my mind. I removed the card and focused on it. I reached…

«Yes, Merlin?» he said moments later, seated at a small table on a terrace - evening skyline of a city behind him - lowering what appeared to be a cup of espresso to a tiny white saucer.

«Right now. Hurry,» I said. «Come to me.»

Nayda had begun to make a low growling sound just as the contact occurred, and she was on her feet and moving toward me, her eyes fixed upon the Trump, just as Mandor took my hand and stepped through. She halted when the tall, black-garbed figure appeared before her. They regarded each other without expression for a moment, and then she took a long sliding step toward him, her hands beginning to rise. Immediately, from the depth of some inner cloak pocket where his right hand was thrust, there came a single, sharp, metallic click.

Nayda froze.

«Interesting,» Mandor said, raising his left hand and passing it in front of her face. Her eyes did not follow it. «This is the one you told me about earlier - Vinta; I believe, you called her?»

«Yes, only now she's Nayda.»

He produced a small, dark metal ball from somewhere and held it upon the palm of his left hand, which he extended before her. Slowly, the ball began to move, describing a counterclockwise circle. Nayda emitted a single sound, something halfway between a cry and a gasp, and she dropped forward to her hands and knees, head lowered. From where I stood I could see saliva dripping from her mouth.

He said something very fast, in an archaic form of Thari which I could not follow. She responded in the affirmative.

«I believe I've solved your mystery,» he said then. «Do you recall your lessons on Respondances and High Compellings?»

«Sort of,» I said. «Academically. I was never exactly swept away by the subject.»

«Unfortunate,» he stated. «You should report back to Suhuy for a postgraduate course sometime.»

«Are you trying to tell me…?»

«The creature you see before you, inhabiting a not unattractive human form, is a ty'iga,» he explained.

I stared. The ty'iga were a normially bodiless race of demons that dwelled in the blackness beyond the Rim. I recalled being told that they were very powerful and very difficult to control.

«Uh…, can you make this one stop slobbering on my carpet?» I said.

«Of course,» he replied, and he released the sphere, which fell to the floor before her. It did not bounce, but began immediately to roll, describing a rapid circuit about her.

«Stand up,» he said, «and stop releasing bodily fluids upon the floor.»

She did as he ordered, climbing to her feet, her expression vacant.

«Seat yourself in that chair,» he directed, indicating the one she had occupied but minutes earlier.

She complied, and the rolling ball adjusted itself to her progress and continued its circle, about the chair now.

«It cannot vacate that body,» he said then, «unless I release it. And I can cause it any amount of torment within my sphere of power. I can get you your answers now. Tell me what the questions are.»

«Can she hear us right now?»

«Yes, but it cannot speak unless I permit it.»

«Well, there's no point to causing unnecessary pain. The threat itself may be sufficient. I want to know why she's been following me about.»

«Very well,» he said. «That is the question, ty'iga. Answer it!»

«I follow him to protect him,» she said, her voice flat.

«I've already heard that one,» I said. «I want to know why.»

«Why?» Mandor repeated.

«I must,» she answered.

«Why must you?» he asked.

«I…» Her teeth raked her lower lip and the blood began to flow again.

«Why?»

Her face grew flushed and beads of perspiration appeared upon her brow. Her eyes were still unfocused, but they brimmed with tears. A thin line of blood trickled down her chin. Mandor extended a clenched fist and pened it, revealing another metal ball. He held this one about ten inches before her brow, then released it. It hung in the air.

«Let the doors of pain be opened,» he said, and he flicked it lightly with a fingertip.

Immediately, the small sphere began to move. It passed about her head in a slow ellipse, coming close to her temples on each orbit. She began to wail.

«Silence!» he said. «Suffer in silence!»

The tears ran down her cheeks, the blood ran down her chin…

«Stop it!» I said.

«Very well.» He reached over and squeezed the ball for a moment between the thumb and middle finger of his left hand. When he released it, it remained stationary, a small distance before her right ear. «Now you may answer the question,» he said. «That was but the smallest sample of what I can do to you. I can push this to your total destruction.»

She opened her mouth but no words came forth. Only a gagging sound.

«I think we may be going about this wrong,» I said. «Can you just have her speak normally, rather than this question-and-answer business?»

«You heard him,» Mandor said. «It is my will, also.»

She gasped, then said, «My hands… Please free them.»

«Go ahead,» I said.

«They are freed,» Mandor stated.

She flexed her fingers.

«A handkerchief, a towel…,» she said softly.

I drew open a drawer in a nearby dresser, took out a handkerchief. As I moved to pass it to her, Mandor seized my wrist and took it from me. He tossed it to her and she caught it.

«Don't reach within my sphere,» he told me.

«I wouldn't hurt him,» she said, as she wiped her eyes, her cheeks, her chin. «I told you, I mean only to protect him.»

«We require more information than that,» Mandor said, as he reached for the sphere again.

«Wait,» I said. Then, to her, «Can you at least tell me why you can't tell me?»

«No,» she answered. «It would amount to the same thing.»

Suddenly I saw it as a strange sort of programming problem; and I decided to try a different tack.

«You must protect me at all costs?» I said. «That is your primary function?»

«Yes.»

«And you are not supposed to tell me who set you this task, or why?»

«Yes.»

«Supposing the only way you could protect me would be by telling me these things?»

Her brow furrowed.

«I…,» she said. «I don't.,… The only way?»

She closed her eyes and raised her hands to her face. «I… Then I would have to tell you.»

«Now we're getting somewhere,» I said. «You would be willing to violate the secondary order in order to carry out the primary one?»

«Yes, but what you have described is not a real situation,» she said.

«I see one that is,» Mandor said suddenly. «You cannot follow that order if you cease to exist. Therefore, you would be violating it if you permit yourself to be destroyed. I will destroy you unless you answer those questions.»

She smiled.

«I don't think so,» she said.

«Why not?»

«Ask Merlin what the diplomatic situation would be if a daughter of the Begman prime minister were found dead in his room under mysterious circumstances - especially when he's already responsible for the disappearance of her sister.»

Mandor frowned and looked at me.

«I don't understand what that's all about,» he said.

«It doesn't matter,» I told him. «She's lying. If something happens to her, the real Nayda simply returns. I saw it happen with George Hansen, Meg Devlin, and Vinta Bayle.»

«That is what would normally occur,» she said, «except for one thing. They were all alive when I took possession of their bodies. But Nayda had just died, following a severe illness. She was exactly what I needed, though, so I took possession and healed the body. She is not here anymore. If I depart, you'll be left either with a corpse or a human vegetable.»

«You're bluffing,» I said, but I remembered Vialle's saying that Nayda had been ill.

«No,» she said. «I'm not.»

«It doesn't matter,» I told her. «Mandor,» I said, turning to him, «you said you can keep her from vacating that body and following me?»

«Yes,» he replied.

«Okay, Nayda,» I said. «I am going somewhere and I am going to be in extreme danger there. I am not going to permit you to follow me and carry out your orders.»

«Don't,» she answered.

«You give me no choice but to keep you pent while I go about my business.»

She sighed.

«So you've found a way to get me to violate one order in order to get me to carry out the other. Very clever.»

«Then you'll tell me what I want to know?»

She shook her head.

«I am physically unable to tell you,» she said. «It is not a matter of will. But… I think I've found a way around it.»

«What is that?»

«I believe I could confide in a third party who also desires your safety.»

«You mean-»

«If you will leave the room for a time, I will try to tell your brother those things I may not explain to you.»

My eyes met Mandor's. Then, «I'll step out in the hall for a bit,» I said.

And I did. A lot of things bothered me as I studied a tapestry on the wall, not the least being that I had never told her that Mandor was my brother.

When my door opened after a long while, Mandor looked in both directions. He raised his hand when I began to move toward him. I halted, and he stepped outside and came toward me. He continued to glance about as he advanced.

«This is Amber palace?» he inquired.

«Yes. Not the most fashionable wing, perhaps, but I call it home.»

«I'd like to see it under more relaxed circumstances,» he said.

I nodded. «It's a date. So tell me, what happened in there?»

He looked away, discovered the tapestry, studied it.

«It's very peculiar,» he said. «I can't.»

«What do you mean?»

«You still trust me, don't you?»

«Of course.»

«Then trust me in this. I've a good reason for not telling you what I learned.»

«Come on, Mandor! What the hell's going on?»

«The ty'iga is not a danger to you. It really does care about your welfare.»

«So what else is new? I want to know why.»

«Leave it,» he said, «for now. It's better that way.»

I shook my head. I made a fist and looked around for something to hit.

«I know how you feel, but I'm asking you to drop it,» he said.

«You mean the knowledge would hurt me in some way?»

«I didn't say that.»

«Or do you mean that you're afraid to tell me?»

«Drop it'» he said.

I turned away and got control of myself.

«You must have a good reason,» I finally decided.

«I do.»

«I'm not going to give up on this,» I told him. «But I haven't the time to pursue it further against this kind of resistance. Okay, you have your reasons and I have pressing business elsewhere.»

«She mentioned Jurt and Mask and the Keep where Brand gained his powers,» he said.

«Yes, that's where I'll be heading.»

«She expects to accompany you.»

«She is wrong.»

«I would counsel against taking her, too.»

«You'll keep her for me until I've taken care of things?»

«No,» he said, «because I'm coming with you. I'll put her into a very deep trance, though, before we depart.»

«But you don't know what's been going on since our dinner. A lot has happened, and I just haven't the time to bring you up to date.»

«It doesn't matter,» he said. «I know that it involves an unfriendly sorcerer, Jurt, and a dangerous place. That's enough. I'll come along and give you a hand.»

«But that may not be enough,» I countered. «We may not be enough.»

«Even so, I think the ty'iga could turn into a hindrance.»

«I wasn't referring to her. I was thinking about the stiff lady near the door.»

«I'd meant to ask you about her. Some enemy you're I punishing?»

«She had been an enemy, yes. And she's nasty, untrustworthy, and has a poisonous bite. She's also a deposed queen. I didn't freeze her, though. The sorcerer who's after me did it. She's the mother of a friend, and I rescued her and brought her back here for safekeeping. I had no reason for releasing her, until now.»

«Ah, as an ally against her old enemy.»

«Exactly. She's well acquainted with the place I'm t going. But she doesn't like me and she's not easy to deal with - and I don't really know whether her son gave me enough ammunition to make her trustworthy.»

«Do you feel she'd be a real asset?»

«Yes. I'd like to have all of that animus on my side. And I understand she's an accomplished sorceress.»

«If additional persuading is needed, there are only threats and bribes. I've a few private hells I've designed and furnished - for purely esthetic reasons. She might find a quick tour very impressive. On the other hand, I could send for a pot of jewels.»

«I don't know,» I said. «Her motivations are somewhat complex. Let me handle this, as far as I'm able.»

«Of course. Those were only suggestions.»

«As I see it, the next order of business is to rouse her, put the proposition to her, and attempt to judge her response.»

«There is no one else you might bring along, from among your kinsmen here?»

«I'm afraid to let any of them know I' m going. It could easily result in an order not to, until Random gets back. I haven't the time to wait around.»

«I might summon some reinforcement from the Courts.»

«Here? To Amber? I'd really be up shit creek if Random ever got wind of that. He might start suspecting subversion.»

He smiled.

«This place reminds me a bit of home,» he remarked, turning back toward my door.

When we entered, I saw that Nayda was still seated, her hands upon her knees, staring at a metal ball that hovered about a foot before her. The other continued its slow circuit down on the floor.

Seeing the direction of my gaze, Mandor remarked, «Very light trance state. She can hear us. You can rouse her in an instant if you wish.»

I nodded and fumed away. Now it was Jasra's turn.

I removed all of the garments I'd hung upon her and placed them on a chair across the room. Then I fetched a cloth and the basin and washed the clown makeup off her face.

«Am I forgetting anything?» I said, half to myself.

«A glass of water and a mirror,» Mandor stated.

«What for?»

«She may be thirsty,» he replied, «and I can just tell she'll want to look at herself.»

«You may have a point there,» I said, drawing up a small table. I placed a pitcher and a goblet upon it; also, a hand mirror.

«I'd also suggest you support her, in case she collapses when the spell is removed.»

«True.»

I placed my left arm about her shoulders, thought of her deadly bite, stepped back, and held her at arm's distance with the one hand.

«If she bites me, it will knock me out almost instantly,» I said. «Be ready to defend yourself quickly if this occurs.»

Mandor tossed another metal ball into the air. It hung there for an unnaturally long moment at the top of its arc, then dropped back to his hand.

«All right,» I said, and then I spoke the words that raised the spell.

Nothing as dramatic as I'd feared ensued. She slumped and I supported her. «You're safe,» I said, and added, «Rinaldo knows you're here,» to invoke the most familiar. «Here's a chair. Do you want some water?»

«Yes,» she replied, and I poured some and passed it to her.

Her eyes were darting, taking in everything as she drank. I wondered whether she'd recovered instantly and might not now be stalling for time as she sipped, her mind racing, spells dancing at her fingertips. Her eyes returned more than once to Mandor, appraising, though she gave Nayda a long, hard stare.

Finally, she lowered the goblet and smiled.

«I take it, Merlin, that I am your prisoner,» she said, choking slightly. She took another sip.

«Guest,» I replied.

«Oh? How did this come about? Accepting the invitation escapes my mind.»

«I brought you here from the citadel at the Keep of the Four Worlds in a somewhat cataleptic condition,» I said.

«And where might `here' be?»

«My apartment in the Palace of Amber.»

«Prisoner, then,» she stated.

«Guest,» I repeated.

«In that case, I should be introduced, should I not?»

«Excuse me. Mandor, I introduce Her Highness Jasra, Queen of Kashfa.» (I intentionally omitted the «Most Royal» part.) «Your Majesty, I request leave to present my brother, Lord Mandor.»

She inclined her head, and Mandor approached, dropped to one knee, and raised her hand to his lips. He's better at such courtly gestures than I am, not even sniffing the back of her hand for the scent of bitter almonds. I could tell that she liked his manner - and she continued to study him afterward.

«I was not aware,» she observed, «that the royal house here contained an individual named Mandor.»

«Mandor is heir to the dukedom of Sawall in the Courts of Chaos,» I replied. Her eyes widened.

«And you say he is your brother?»

«Indeed.»

«You've succeeded in surprising me,» she stated. «I had forgotten your double lineage.»

I smiled, nodded, stepped aside and gestured.

«And this-» I began.

«I am acquainted with Nayda,» she said. «Why is the girl… preoccupied?»

«That represents a matter of great complexity,» I said, «and there are other things I am certain you will find to be of much greater interest.»

She cocked an eyebrow at me.

«Ah! That fragile, perishable item- - he truth,» she said. «When it surfaces so quickly there is usually a claustrophobia of circumstance. What is it that you want of me?»

I held my smile.

«It is good to appreciate circumstance,» I said.

«I appreciate the fact that I am in Amber and alive and not occupying a cell, with two gentlemen behaving in a conciliatory fashion. I also appreciate the fact that I am not in the straits my most recent memories indicate I should occupy. And I have you to thank for my deliverance?»

«Yes.»

«Somehow I doubt it was a matter of altruism on your part.»

«I did it for Rinaldo. He tried getting you out once and got clobbered. Then I figured a way that might work, and I tried it. It did.»

Her facial muscles tightened at the mention of her son's name. I'd decided she'd prefer hearing the one she'd given him, rather than «Luke.»

«Is he all right?» she asked.

«Yes,» I said, hoping it were so.

«Then why is he not present?»

«He's off somewhere with Dalt. I'm not sure as to his location. But-»

Nayda made a small noise just then, and we glanced her way. But she did not stir. Mandor gave me an inquiring look, but I shook my head slightly. I did not want her roused just then.

«Bad influence, that barbarian,» Jasra observed, choking again and taking another drink. «I'd so wanted Rinaldo to acquire more of the courtly graces, rather than doing rude things on horseback much of the time,» she continued, glancing at Mandor and granting him a small smile. «In this, I was disappointed. Do you have something stronger than water?»

«Yes,» I replied, and I uncorked a bottle of wine and poured some into a goblet for her. I glanced at Mandor and at the bottle then, but he shook his head. «But you have to admit he did well in that track meet against UCLA, in his sophomore year,» I said, not to let her put him down completely. «A certain amount of that comes from the more vigorous side of life.»

She smiled as she accepted the drink.

«Yes. He broke a world record that day. I can still see him passing over the final hurdle.»

«You were there?»

«Oh, yes. I attended all of your meets. I even watched you run,» she said. «Not bad.»

She sipped the wine…

«Would you like me to send for a meal for you?» I asked.

«No, I'm not really hungry. We were talking about truth a little while ago…»

«So we were. I gather there had been some sorcerous exchange back at the Keep, between you and Mask-»

«Mask?» she said.

«The blue-masked sorcerer who rules there now.»

«Oh, yes. Quite.»

«I do have the story right, don't I?»

«Yes, but the encounter was more than a little traumatic. Forgive my hesitation. I was surprised and did not get my defenses up in time. That was really all there was to it. It will not happen again.»

«I'm sure. But-»

«Did you spirit me away?» she interrupted. «Or did you actually fight with Mask to get me free?»

«We fought,» I said.

«In what condition did you leave Mask?»

«Buried under a pile of manure,» I said.

She chuckled.

«Wonderful! I like a man with a sense of humor.»

«I have to go back,» I added.

«Oh? Why is that?»

«Because Mask is now allied with an enemy of mine - man named Jurt, who desires my death.»

She shrugged slightly.

«If Mask is no match for you, I fail to see where Mask and this man should represent a great problem.» Mandor cleared his throat.

«Begging your leave,» he said. «But Jurt is a shape shifter and minor sorcerer from the Courts. He also has power over Shadow.»

«I suppose that would make something of a difference,» she said.

«Not as much as what the two of them apparently plan to accomplish,» I told her. «I believe that Mask intends running Jurt through the same ritual your late husband undertook - something involving the Fount of Power.»

«No!» she cried, and she was on her feet, the rest of the wine mixing with Nayda's spittle and a few old bloodstains on the Tabriz I'd purchased for its delicately detailed pastoral scene. «It must not happen again!»

A storm came and went behind her eyes. Then, for the first time, she looked vulnerable.

«I lost him because of that…,» she said.

Then the moment was gone. The hardness returned.

«I had not finished my wine,» she said then, reseating herself.

«I'll get you another glass,» I told her.

«And is that a mirror on the table?»

Chapter 11

I waited till she was finished primping, glancing out of the window at the snow and surreptitiously trying again to reach Coral or Luke while my back was turned to her.

No luck, though. When she put down the comb and brush she'd borrowed from me and laid the mirror beside them, I gathered she'd finished organizing her thoughts as well as her hair and was ready to talk again. I turned back slowly and strolled over.

We studied each other while practicing expressionlessness, then she asked, «Is anyone else in Amber aware that you have awakened me?»

«No,» I replied.

«Good. That means I've a chance of leaving here alive. Presumably, you want my assistance against Mask and this Jurt?»

«Yes.»

«Exactly what sort of help do you desire, and what are you prepared to pay for it?»

«I intend to penetrate the Keep and neutralize Mask and Jurt,» I said.

«'Neutralize'? That's one of those little euphemisms for `kill,' isn't it?»

«I suppose so,» I replied.

«Amber has never been noted for its squeamishness,» she said. «You have been exposed to too much American journalism. So, you are aware of my familiarity with the Keep, and you want my help in killing the two of them. Correct?»

I nodded.

«Rinaldo has told me that if we were to arrive too late and Jurt had already undergone the transformational ritual, you might know a way to use that same power against him,» I explained.

«He'd gotten further into those notes than I'd realized,» she said. «I am going to have to be frank with you then, since our lives may depend on it: Yes, there is such a technique. But no, it won't be of any help to us. Some preparations are required to turn the power to such an end. It is not something I could simply reach out and do at a moment's notice.»

Mandor cleared his throat.

«I'd rather not see Jurt dead,» he stated, «if there's a possibility I could take him back to the Courts as a prisoner. He could be disciplined. There might be a way of neutralizing him without really…neutralizing him, as you put it.»

«And if there isn't?» I asked.

«Then I'll help you to kill him,» he said. «I have no illusions about him, but I feel obliged to try something. I'm afraid that the news of his death could push our father over the edge.»

I looked away. He could be right, and even though old Sawall's death would mean his own succession to the title and control of considerable holdings, I was certain he was not anxious to acquire them at that price.»

«I understand,» I said. «I hadn't thought of that.»

«So give me a chance to subdue him. If I fail, I'll join you in whatever must be done.»

«Agreed,» I said, watching to see how Jasra was taking this.

She was studying us, a curious expression on her face.

«'Our father'?» she said.

«Yes,» I replied. «I wasn't going to mention that, but since it got out, Jurt's our younger brother.»

Her eyes were alight now, at the scent of connivance.

«This is a family power struggle, isn't it?» she asked.

«I suppose you could put it that way,» I said.

«Not really,» Mandor said.

«And yours is an important family in the Courts?»

Mandor shrugged. So did I. I'd a feeling she was trying to figure a way to cash in on that end of it, too, and I decided to stonewall her.

«We were discussing the task at hand,» I said. «I want to take us in there and accept Mask's challenge. We stop Jurt if he gets in the way and give him to Mandor. If it is impossible simply to subdue him, we go the rest of the way. Are you with us?»

«We have not yet discussed the price,» she said.

«All right,» I acknowledged. «I've talked about this with Rinaldo, and he told me to tell you that he's called the vendetta off. He feels things were settled with Amber when Caine died. He asked me to release you if you would go along with this, and he suggested that in return for your help against the new lord of the citadel we restore the Keep of the Four Worlds to your sovereignty. Bottom line, as he put it. What do you say?»

She picked up the goblet and took a long, slow sip. She'd stall, I knew, trying to figure a way to squeeze more out of this deal.

«You've spoken with Rinaldo very recently?» she said.

«Yes.»

«I am not clear as to why he is running about with Dalt; rather than being here with us, if he is so much in agreement with this plan.»

I sighed.

«Okay, I'll tell you the story,» I said. «But if you're with us, I do want to get moving soon.»

«Proceed,» she said.

So I recounted the evening's adventure in Arden, omitting only the fact that Vialle had placed Luke under her protection. Nayda seemed to grow progressively distressed as I told the tale, uttering small whimpering sounds at odd intervals.

When I was finished, Jasra placed her hand upon Mandor's arm and rose, brushing him lightly with her hip as she passed, and she went to stand before Nayda.

«Now tell me why the daughter of a high Begman official is restrained here,» she said.

«She is possessed of a demon that enjoys interfering in my affairs,» I explained.

«Really? I've often wondered what hobbies demons might pursue,» she observed. «But it seems this particular demon has been trying to say something in which I might be interested. If you would be so good as to free it for a moment's conversation I promise to consider your offer afterward.»

«Time is running,» I said.

«In that case my answer is no,» she told me. «Lock me up someplace and go to the Keep without me.»

I glanced at Mandor.

«In that I have not yet agreed to accept your offer,» Jasra continued, «Rinaldo would call this an entertainment expense.»

«I see no harm in it,» Mandor said.

«Then let her speak,» I told him.

«You may talk, ty'iga,» he said.

Her first words were not addressed to Jasra, however but to me:

«Merlin, you have to let me accompany you.»

I moved around to where I could see her face.

«No way,» I told her.

«Why not?» she asked.

«Because your penchant for protecting me will actually hinder me in a situation where I will probably have to take some chances.»

«That is my nature,» she responded.

«And my problem,» I said. «I mean you no ill. I'll be glad to talk to you when this is all over, but you're going to have to sit this one out.»

Jasra cleared her throat.

«Is that the entire message? Or is there something you wished to tell me, also?» Jasra asked.

There followed a long silence, then, «Will you be accompanying them or not?» Nayda inquired.

Jasra took just as long to respond, obviously weighing her words:

«This is a clandestine, personal operation,» she said. «I am not at all certain it would be countenanced by Merlin's seniors here in Amber. While it is true that I stand to gain if I cooperate, I will also undergo considerable risk. Of course, I want my freedom and the restoration of the Keep. It is almost a fair trade. But he also asks a quitclaim on the vendetta. What assurance have I that this means anything here, and that the hierarchy of Amber will not hunt me down as a troublemaker afterward? He cannot speak for the others when he operates on the sly this way.»

Somehow, it had become a question addressed to me, and since it was a very good question to which I did not really have an answer, I was glad that the ty'iga had something to say:

«I believe that I can persuade you that it would be in your best interest to agree to accompany them and to render every assistance you can,» she offered.

«Pray, begin,» Jasra told her.

«I would have to speak with you in private on this matter.»

Jasra smiled, out of her love for intrigue, I am certain.

«It is agreeable to me,» she said.

«Mandor, force her to say it now,» I said.

«Wait!» Jasra declared. «I will have this private conversation or you can forget about my help.»

I began wondering just how much help Jasra really represented if she couldn't call upon the Fount to dispose of Jurt, should that become our biggest problem. True, she knew the Keep. But I didn't even know for certain how accomplished a sorceress she might be.

On the other hand, I wanted this thing settled now, and one more adept could make the difference.

«Nayda,» I said, «are you planning something that could be damaging to Amber?»

«No,» she replied.

«Mandor, what do ty'iga swear by?» I inquired.

«They don't,» he said.

«What the hell,» I said. «How much time do you want?»

«Give us ten minutes,» she told me.

«Let's take a walk,» I said to Mandor.

«Surely,» he agreed, tossing another metal ball toward Nayda. It joined the others in orbit about her, a little above waist level.

I fetched a key from my desk drawer before departing. And as soon as we were in the hall I asked him, «Is there any way Jasra could free her?»

«Not with the additional circuit of confinement I established on the way out,» he replied. «Not many could figure a way past it, and certainly not in ten minutes.»

«She's just full of secrets, that damned ty'iga,» I said. «Kind of makes me wonder who's really the prisoner here.»

«She's only trading some bit of knowledge for Jasra's cooperation,» he said. «She wants the lady to accompany us if she can't go herself, since it will mean extra protection for you.»

«Then why can't we be present?»

«Nothing that I learned from her sheds any tight on this,» he said.

«Well, since I have a few minutes, there is a small errand I want to run. Would you keep an eye on things here and take charge if she calls us in before I get back?»

He smiled.

«If one of your relatives strolls by, should I introduce myself as a lord of Chaos?»

«I thought you were also a lord of deception.»

«Of course,» he said, and he clapped his hands and vanished.

«I'll hurry,» I said.

«Cheerio,» came his voice, from somewhere.

I hurried off up the hall. It was a little pilgrimage, I suppose - one that I had not made in a long while. On the brink of an enterprise such as this, it seemed somehow appropriate.

When I reached the door, I stood outside it for a moment, my eyes closed, visualizing the interior as last I had seen it. It was my father's apartment. I had wandered through it on many occasions, trying to judge from the furnishings, the layout, his bookshelves, and his curious collections something more than I already knew about the man. There was always some little thing that caught my attention, that answered a question or raised a new one - an inscription on the flyleaf of a book or a note in a margin, a silver hairbrush bearing the wrong set of initials, a daguerreotype of an attractive brunette signed «To Carl, Love, Carolyn,» a snapshot of my father shaking hands with General MacArthur…

I unlocked the door and pushed it open.

I did not move for several seconds, however, as a light glowed inside the place. For more long moments I listened, but there were no sounds from within. Slowly then, I entered. A number of candles burned upon the dresser set against the far wall. There was no one in sight.

«Hello?» I called. out. «It's me. Merlin.» There came no answer.

I drew the door closed behind me and moved forward. A bud vase stood upon the dresser amid the candles. It contained a single rose, and it appeared to be silver in color. I drew nearer. Yes, it was real, not artificial. And it was silver. In what shadow did such flowers grow?

I picked up one of the candles by its, holder and moved away with it, shielding its flame with my hand. I crossed to my left and entered the next room. Immediately, on opening the door, I saw that there was no need to have brought the candle. More of them were burning here.

«Hello?» I repeated.

Again, no answer. No sounds of any sort.

I set the candle upon a nearby table and crossed to the bed. I raised a sleeve and let it fall. A silvery shirt was laid out upon the counterpane beside a black pair of trousers - my father's colors. They had not been there when last I had visited.

I seated myself beside them and stared across the room into a shadowy corner. What was going on? Some bizarre household ritual? A haunting? or…

«Corwin?» I said.

In that I'd hardly expected a reply, I was not disappointed. When I rose, however, I bumped against a heavy object hung upon the nearest bedpost. I reached out and raised it for a better view. A belt with a sheathed weapon hung upon it. These had not been present last time either. I gripped the haft and drew the blade.

A portion of the Pattern, contained within the gray metal, danced in the candlelight. This was Grayswandir, sword of my father. What it was doing back here now, I had no idea.

And I realized with a pang that I could not stick around to see what might be going on. I had to get back to my own problems. Yes, timing was definitely against me today.

I resheathed Grayswandir.

«Dad?» I said. «If you can hear me, I want to get together again. But I have to go now. Good luck on whatever you're about.»

Then I departed the room, touched the silver rose as I passed and locked the door behind me. As I turned away, I realized that I was shaking.

I passed no one on the walk back, and when I approached my own door I wondered whether I should enter, knock, or wait. Then something touched my shoulder, and I turned around but no one was there. When I turned forward once again Mandor stood before me, his brow slightly creased.

«What's the matter?» he asked. «You appear more troubled than when you left.»

«Something totally different,» I told him, «I think. Any word from inside yet?»

«I heard a shriek from Jasra while you were gone,» he said, «and I burned to the door and opened it. But she was laughing and she asked me to close it.»

«Either ty'igas know some good stories or the news is favorable.»

«So it would seem.»

A little later the door opened and Jasra nodded to us.

«Our conversation is concluded,» she said.

I studied her as I entered the room. She looked a lot more cheerful than she had seemed when we'd left. There was a bit more of a crinkling about the outer edges of her eyes, and she seemed almost to be fighting the corners of her mouth down into place.

«I hope it was a fruitful interview,» I said.

«Yes. On the whole, I'd say it was that,» she answered.

A glance at Nayda showed me that nothing had changed in terms of her position or expression.

«I'll have to be asking you for a decision now,» I said. «I can't afford to cut things much closer than this.»

«What happens if I say no?» she asked.

«I'll have you conducts to your quarters and inform the others that you're up and about,» I said.

«As a guest?»

«As a very well-protected guest.»

«I see. Well, I do not really care to inspect those quarters. I have decided to accompany you and assist you under the terms we discussed.»

I bowed to her.

«Merlin!» Nayda said.

«No!» I answered, and I looked to Mandor. He approached and stood before Nayda.

«It is best that you sleep now,» he told her, and her eyes closed, her shoulders slumped. «Where is a good place for her to rest deeply?» he asked me.

«Through there,» I said, indicating the doorway to the next room.

He took her by the hand and led her away. After a time, I heard him speaking softly, and then there was only silence. He emerged a little later, and I went to the door and glanced inside. She was stretched out on my bed. I did not see any of his metal spheres in the neighborhood.

«She's out of it?» I said.

«For a long time,» he replied.

I looked at Jasra, who was glancing down into the mirror.

«Are you ready?» I inquired.

She regarded me through lowered lashes.

«How do you propose transporting us?» she asked.

«Do you have an especially tricky means of getting us in?»

«Not at the moment.»

«Then I will be calling upon the Ghostwheel to take us there.»

«Are you certain it is safe? I've conversed with that… device. I am not sure it is trustworthy.»

«It's fine;» I. said «Any spells you want to prime first?»

«Not necessary. My… resources should be in good order.»

«Mandor?»

I heard a clicking sound from somewhere within his cloak.

«Ready,» he said.

I withdrew the Ghostwheel Trump and studied it. I began my meditation. Then I reached. Nothing happened. I tried again, recalling, tuning, expanding. I reached again, calling, feeling…

«The door…,» Jasra said.

I glanced at the door to the hallway, but there was nothing unusual about it. Then I looked at her and realized the direction of her gaze.

The doorway to the next room, where Nayda slept, had begun to glow. It shone with a yellow light, and even as I watched, it grew in intensity. A spot of greater brightness then occurred at its center. Abruptly, the spot began a slow up-and-down movement.

Then came music, from where I was not certain, and Ghost's voice announced, «Follow the bouncing ball.»

«Stop it!» I said. «It's distracting!»

The music went away. The circle of light grew still.

«Sorry,» Ghost said. «I thought you'd find a little comic relief relaxing.»

«You guessed wrong,» I replied. «I just want you to take us to the citadel at the Keep of the Four Worlds.»

«Do you want the troops, also? I can't seem to locate Luke.»

«Just the three of us,» I answered.

«What about the one who sleeps next door? I've met her before. She doesn't scan right.»

«I know. She's not human. Let her sleep.»

«Very well, then. Pass through the door.»

«Come on,» I said to the others, picking up my weapons belt and buckling it on, adding my spare dagger, grabbing my cloak off a chair, and drawing it over my shoulders.

I walked toward the portal and Mandor and Jasra followed. I stepped through, but the room was no longer there. Instead, there came a moment of blurring, and when my senses cleared, I was staring down and outward across a great distance beneath a heavily overcast sky, a cold wind whipping at my garments.

I heard an exclamation from Mandor and, a moment later, another from Jasra - behind me and to the left. The great ice field lay bone-white to my right, and in the opposite direction a slate-gray sea tossed whitecaps like serpents in a bucket of milk. Far below, before me, the dark ground simmered and steamed.

«Ghost!» I cried. «Where are you?»

«Here,» came a soft response, and I looked down to behold a tiny ring of light near the toe of my left boot. Directly ahead and below, the Keep stood stark in the distance. There were no signs of life outside its walls. I realized that I must be in the mountains, standing somewhere near the place where I had held my lengthy colloquy with the old hermit named Dave.

«I wanted you to take us into the citadel within the Keep,» I explained. «Why did you bring us up here?»

«I told you I don't like that place,» Ghost answered. «I wanted to give you a chance to look it over and decide exactly where you wished to be sent within. That way I can move very fast on the delivery, and not expose myself overlong to forces I find distressing.»

I continued to study the Keep. A pair of twisters were again circling the outer walls. If there had not been a moat, they would probably have done a good job of creating one. They stayed almost exactly 180 degrees apart, and they took turns at illumination. The nearest one grew spark-shot with bolts of lightning, acquiring an eerie incandescence; then, as it began to fade, the other brightened. They passed through this cycle several times as I watched.

Jasra made a small noise, and I turned and asked her, «What's going on?»

«The ritual,» she responded. «Someone is playing with those forces right now.»

«Can you tell how far along they might be?» I asked.

«Not really. They could just be starting, or they could be finished already. All the poles of fire tell me is that everything is in place.»

«You call it then, Jasra,» I told her. «Where should we put in our appearance?»

«There are two long hallways leading to the chamber of the fountain,» she said. «One is on the same level and the other a floor above it. The chamber itself is several stories high.»

«I recall that,» I acknowledged.

«If they are working directly with the forces and we simply appear within the chamber,» she continued, «the advantage of surprise will only be momentary. I can't say for certain what they might hit us with. Better to approach along one of the two hallways and give me a chance to assess the situation. Since there is a possibility that they could note our approach along the lower hallway, the upper one would be best for all our purposes.»

«All right,» I agreed. «Ghost, can you put us back a distance in that upper hallway?»

The circle spread, tilted, rose, stood high above us for a moment, then dropped.

«You are… already… there,» Ghost said, as my vision swam and the circle of light passed over us, head to toe. «Good-bye.»

He was right. We were on target this time. We stood in a long, dim corridor, its walls of dark, hewn stone. Its one end was lost in darkness. Its other led into an area of illumination. The ceiling was of rough timbers, the heavy cross-beams softened by curtains and plumes of spider-webbing. A few blue wizard globes flickered within wall brackets, shedding a pale light that indicated they were near the ends of their spells. Others had already gone dead. Near the brighter end of the hallway some of these had been replaced by lanterns. From overhead came the sounds of small things scurrying within the ceiling. The place smelled damp, musty. But the air had an electric quality to it, as though we were breathing ozone, with an edge of event jitteriness permeating everything.

I shifted to Logrus Sight, and immediately there was a considerable brightening. Lines of force like glowing yellow cables ran everywhere. They provided the additional illumination I now perceived. And every time my movements intersected one, it heightened the overall tingling effect I experienced. I could see now that Jasra was standing at the intersection of several of these and seemed to be drawing energy from them into her body. She was acquiring a glowing quality I was not certain my normal vision would have detected. When I glanced at Mandor I saw the Sign of the Logrus hovering before him also, which meant that he was aware of everything I was seeing.

Jasra began moving slowly along the corridor toward the lighted end. I fell in behind her and slightly to her left. Mandor followed me, moving so silently I had to glance back occasionally to assure myself he was still with us. As we advanced I became aware of a certain throbbing sensation, as of the beating of a vast pulse. Whether this was being transmitted through the floor or along those vibrating lines we continually encountered, I could not say.

I wondered whether our disturbing this net of forces was betraying our presence, and even our position, to the adept working with the stuff down at the Fount. Or was his concentration on the task at hand sufficiently distracting to permit us to approach undetected?

«It has started?» I whispered to Jasra.

«Yes,» she replied.

«How far along?»

«The major phase could be completed.»

A few paces more, and then she asked me, «What is your plan?»

«If you're right, we attack immediately. Perhaps we should try to take out Jurt first - all of us, I mean - if he's become that high-powered, that dangerous.»

She licked her lips.

«I'm probably best equipped to deal with him, because of my connection with the Fount,» she said then. «Better you don't get in my way. I'd rather see you dealing with Mask while I'm about it. It might be better to keep Mandor in reserve, to lend his aid to whichever of us might need it.»

«I'll go along with your judgment,» I said. «Mandor, did you hear all that?»

«Yes,» he replied softly. «I'll do as she says.»

Then, «What happens if I destroy the Fount itself?» he asked Jasra.

«I don't believe it can be done,» she answered.

He snorted, and I could see the dangerous lines along which his thoughts were running.

«Humor me and suppose,» he said.

She was silent for a time, then, «If you were able to shut it down; even for a little while,» she offered, «the citadel would probably fall. I've been using its emanations to help hold this place up. It's old, and I never got around to buttressing it where it needs it. The amount of energy required to attack the Fount successfully, though, would be much better invested elsewhere.»

«Thanks,» he said.

She halted, extending a hand into one of the lines of force and closing her eyes as if she were taking a pulse. «Very strong,» she said a little later. «Someone is tapping it at deep levels now.»

She began moving again. The light at the end of the hallway grew brighter, then dimmer, brighter, dimmer. The shadows retreated and flowed back repeatedly as this occurred. I became aware of a sound something like the humming of high wires. There was also an intermittent crackling noise coming from that direction. I increased my pace as Jasra began to hurry. At about that time there came a sound of laughter from up ahead. Frakir tightened upon my wrist. Flakes of fire flashed past the corridor's mouth.

«Damn, damn, damn,» I heard Jasra saying.

She raised her hand as we came into sight of the landing where Mask had stood at the time of our encounter. I halted as she moved very slowly, approaching the railing. There were stairs both to the right and the left, leading downward to opposite sides of the chamber.

She looked down for only an instant; then she threw herself back and to the right, rolling when she hit the floor. Taking out a piece of railing, a ball of orange flame fled upward like a slow comet, passing through the area she had just quitted. I rushed to her side, slipped an arm beneath her shoulders, began to raise her.

I felt her stiffen, as her head jerked slightly to the left. Somehow, I already knew what I would see when I turned that way.

Jurt stood there, stark naked save for his eye patch, glowing, smiling, a pulse away from substantiality.

«Good of you to drop by, brother,» he said. «Sorry you can't stay.»

Sparks danced at his fingertips as he swung his arm ip my direction. I doubted that shaking hands was foremost in his mind.

The only response I could think of was, «Your shoelace is untied,» which of course didn't stop him, but it actually had him looking puzzled for a second or two.

Chapter 12

Jurt had never played football. I do not believe he expected me to come up fast and rush him; and when it happened, I don't think he anticipated my coming in as low as I did.

And as for clipping him just above the knees and knocking him back through the opening in the railing, I'm sure he was surprised. At least he looked surprised as he went over backward and plummeted, sparks still dancing at his fingertips.

I heard Jasra chuckle, even as he faded in mid-fall and vanished before the floor got to spread him around a bit. Then, from the corner of my eye, I saw her rise.

«I'll deal with him now,» she said, and, «No problem. He's clumsy,» even as he appeared at the head of the stair to her right. «You take care of Mask!»

Mask was on the opposite side of the black stone fountain, staring up at me through an orange and red geyser of flames. Below, in the basin, the fires rippled yellow and white. When he scooped up a handfiil and worked them together as a child might shape a snowball, they became an incandescent blue. Then he threw it at me.

I sent it past with a simple parry. This was not Art, it was basic energy work. But it served as a reminder, even as I saw Jasra perform the preliminary gestures to a dangerous spell purely as a feint, bringing her near enough to Jurt to trip him, pushing him backward down the stair.

Not Art. Whoever enjoyed the luxury of living near and utilizing a power source such as this would doubtless get very sloppy as time went on, only using the basic frames of spells as guides, running rivers of power through them. One untutored, or extremely lazy, might possibly even dispense with that much after a time and play directly with the raw forces, a kind of shamanism, as opposed to the Higher Magic's purity - like that of a balanced equation - producing a maximum effect from a minimum of effort.

Jasra knew this. I could tell she'd received formal training somewhere along the line. That much was to the good anyway, I decided as I parried another ball of fire and moved to my left.

I began descending the stair - sideways - never taking my gaze off Mask. I was ready to defend or to strike in an instant.

The railing began to glow before me, then it burst into flame. I retreated a pace and continued my descent. Hardly worth wasting a spell to douse it. It was obviously meant for show rather than damage…

Well…

There was another possibility, I realized then, as I saw that Mask was simply watching me, was making no move to throw anything else in my direction.

It could also be a test. Mask might simply be attempting to discover whether I was limited to whatever spells I had brought with me - or whether I had learned to tap the power source here directly and would shortly be slugging things out with him as Jurt and Jasra were now obviously preparing to do. Good. Let him wonder. A finite number of spells against a near-limitless source of energy?

Jurt suddenly appeared upon a windowsill, high and to my left. He had time only for a brief frown before a curtain of fire was rung down upon him. Both he and the curtain were gone a moment later, and I heard Jasra's laughter and his curse, followed by a crashing noise off to the other side of the chamber.

As I moved to descend another step, the stairway faded from view. Suspecting illusion, I continued the slow downward movement of my foot. I encountered nothing, though, and finally extended my stride to pass over the gap and on down to the next stair. It also vanished, howevex, as I shifted my weight. There came a chuckle from Mask as I turned my movement into a leap to avoid the area. Once I was committed to jumping, the stairs winked out one by one as I passed over them.

I was certain Mask's thinking must be - that if I had a handle on the local power, reflex would cause me to betray that connection here. And if I didn't it might still cause me to waste an escape spell.

But I judged the distance to the now-visible floor. If no more stairs vanished I might be able to catch a handhold on the next one, hang a moment, then drop. That would be perfectly safe. And if I missed, or if another stair vanished… I still felt I would land reasonably intact. Better to use an entirely different sort of spell on the way down.

I caught the rearward edge of the farthest stair, dangled and dropped, turning my body and speaking the words of a spell I call the Falling Wall.

The fountain shuddered. The fires sloshed and splashed, overflowing the basin on the side nearest Mask. And then Mask himself was thrown backward to the floor as my spell continued its course of descent.

Mask's arms rose before him as his body seemed to sop up the swirling glow, his hands to expel it. There was a bright arc between his hands, then a shieldlike dome. He held it above him, warding off the final collapsive force of my spell. I was already moving quickly in his direction. Even as I did so, Jurt appeared before me, standing on the far lip of the fountain just above Mask, glaring at me. Before I could draw my blade, throw Frakir, or utter another spell, however, the fountain welled up, a great wave toppling Jurt from its side, sending him sprawling upon the floor, washing him past Mask and across the chamber toward the foot of the other stair, down which I now saw that Jasra was slowly descending.

«It means nothing to be able to transport yourself anywhere,» I heard her say; «if you are a fool in all places.»

Jurt snarled and sprang to his feet. Then he looked upward, past Jasra…

«You, too, brother?» he said.

«I am here to preserve your life, if at all possible,» I heard Mandor reply. «I would suggest you return with me now-»

Jurt cried out no recognizable words, just an animallike bleat. Then, «I do not need your patronage!» he screamed. «And you are the fool, to trust Merlin! You stand between him and a kingdom!»

A series of glowing circles drifted like glowing smoke rings from between Jasra's hands, dropping as if to settle about his body. Jurt immediately vanished, though moments later I heard him shouting to Mandor from a different direction.

I continued to advance upon Mask, who had guarded successfully against my Falling Wall and was now beginning to rise. I spoke the words of the Icy Path, and his feet went out from beneath him. Yes, I was going to throw a finite number of spells against his power source. I call it confidence. Mask had power. I had a plan, and the means to execute it.

A flagstone tore itself loose from the floor, turned into a cloud of gravel amid a grating, crunching noise, then flew toward me like a charge of shot. I spoke the words of the Net and gestured.

All of the fragments were collected before they could reach me. Then I dumped them upon Mask, who was still struggling to rise.

«Do you realize that I still don't know why we're fighting?» I said. «This was your idea. I can still-»

For the moment, Mask had given up on trying to rise. He had placed his left hand in a simmering puddle of light and had extended his right, palm toward me. The puddle vanished, and a shower of fire emerged from the right hand and sped at me, like drops from a lawn sprinkler. I was ready for this, though. If the Fount could contain the fire, then it had to be insulated against it.

I threw myself flat on the other side of the dark structure, using its base as a shield.

«It is likely one of us is going to die,» I called out, «since we are not pulling our punches. Either way, I won't have a chance to ask you later: What's your bitch? What am I to you?»

The only reply was a chuckling sound from the other side of the Fount, as the floor began to move beneath me.

From somewhere off to my right, near the foot of the undamaged stair, I heard Jurt say, «A fool in all places? What about close quarters?» and I looked up in time to see him appear before Jasra and seize hold of her.

A moment later he screamed, as Jasra lowered her head and her lips touched his forearm. She pushed him away then, and he fell down the remaining steps, landing stiffly, not moving.

I crept to the right of the Fount, over the sharp edges of the broken flooring, which jiggled and sawed at me within the matrix of Mask's power.

«Jurt is out of it,» I commented, «and you stand alone now, Mask, against the three of us. Call it quits, and I'll see that you go on living.»

«Three of you,» came that flat, distorted voice. «You admit that you cannot beat me without help?»

«Beat?» I said. «Perhaps you consider it a game. I do not. I will not be bound by any rules you choose to recognize. Call it quits or I'll kill you, with or without help, any way I can.»

A dark object suddenly appeared overhead; and I rolled back away from the Fount as it came to rest in the basin. It was Jurt. Unable to move normally because of the paralytic effect of Jasra's bite, he had trumped away from the foot of the stair and into the Fount.

«You have your friends, Lord of Chaos, and I have mine,» Mask replied, as Jurt moaned softly and began to glow.

Suddenly Mask went spinning into the air, as I heard the flooring shatter. The Fount itself died down, grew weaker, as a flaming tower twisted ceilingward, rising from a new opening in the floor, bearing Mask with it on the crest of its golden plume.

«And enemies,» Jasra stated, moving nearer.

Mask spread his arms and legs and wheeled slowly through the middle air, suddenly in control of his trajectory. I got to my feet and backed away from the Fount. I'm seldom at my best at centers of geological catastrophes.

A rushing, rumbling sound now came from the doubled fountain, and a high-pitched, sourceless-seeming note accompanied it. A small wind sighed among the rafters. The tower of fire atop which Mask rode continued its slow spiraling, and the spray in the lowered fountain began a similar movement. Jurt stirred, moaned, raised his right arm.

«And enemies,» Mask acknowledged, beginning a series of gestures I recognized immediately because I'd spent a lot of time figuring them out.

«Jasra!» I cried. «Watch out for Sharu!»

Jasra took three quick steps to her left and smiled. Something very much like lightning then fell from the rafters, blackening the area she had just departed.

«He always starts with a lightning stroke,» she explained. «He's very predictable.»

She spun once and vanished redly, with a sound like breaking glass.

I looked immediately to where the old man had stood, RINALDO carved upon his right leg. He was leaning against the wall now, one hand to his forehead, the other implementing a simple but powerful shielding spell.

I was about to scream for Mandor to take the old boy out, when Mask hit me with a Klaxon spell which tempo rarily deafened me while bursting blood vessels in my nose.

Dripping, I dove and rolled, interposing the now-rising Jurt between myself and the sorcerer in the air. Jurt actually appeared to be throwing off the effects of Jasra's bite. So I drove my fist into his stomach as I rose and turned him into an even better position to serve as my shield. A mistake. I received a jolt from his body, not unlike a nasty electrical shock, and he even managed a brief laugh as I fell.

«He's all yours,» I heard him gasp then.

From the corner of my eye, I saw where Jasra and Sharu Garrul stood, each of them seemingly holding one end of a great long piece of macrame work woven of cables. The lines were pulsing and changing colors, and I knew they represented forces rather than material objects, visible only by virtue of the Logrus Sight, under which I continued to operate. The pulse increased in tempo, and both sank slowly to their knees, arms still extended, faces glistening. A quick word, a gesture, and I could break that balance. Unfortunately, I had problems of my own just then. Mask was swooping toward me like some huge insect - expressionless, shimmering, deadly. A succession of brittle snapping sounds occurred within the front wall of the Keep, where a series of jagged cracks raced downward like black lightning. I was away of falling dust beyond the spiraling lights, of the growling and the whining sounds - faint now within my ringing ears - of the continuing vibration of the floor beneath my half-numbed legs. But that was all right. I raised my left hand as my right slid within my cloak.

A fiery blade appeared in Mask's right hand. I did not stir, but waited a second longer before speaking the guide words to my Fantasia-for-Six-Acetylene-Torches spell as I snapped my forearm back to cover my eyes and rolled to the side.

The stroke missed me, passing through broken stone. Mask's left arm fell across my chest, however, elbow connecting with my lower ribs. I did not stop to assess damages, though, as I heard the sword of fire crackle and come free of the stone. And so, turning, I struck with my own more mundane dagger of steel, driving its full length up into Mask's left kidney.

There followed a scream as the sorcerer stiffened and slumped beside me. Almost immediately thereafter I was kicked with considerable force behind my right hip. I twisted away and another blow landed upon my right shoulder. I am sure it was aimed for my head. As I covered my neck and temples and mlled away, I heard Jurt's voice, cursing.

Drawing my longer blade, I rose to my feet, and my gaze met Jurt's. He was rising at the same time, and he held Mask cradled in his arms.

«Later,» he said to me, and he vanished, bearing the body away with him. The blue mask remained on the floor, near to a long smear of blood.

Jasra and Sharu were still facing each other from kneeling positions, panting, bodies completely drenched, their life forces twisting about each other like mating serpents.

Then, like a surfacing fish, Jurt appeared within the tower of forces beyond the Fount. Even as Mandor hurled two of his spheres - which seemed to grow in size as they fled down the chamber, to crash into the Fount and reduce to rubble - I saw what I believed I would never see again.

As the reverberation of the Fount's collapse spread and the groaning and grinding within the walls was replaced by a snapping and swaying, and dust, gravel and timbers fell about me, I was moving forward, skirting the wreckage, sidestepping new geysers and rivulets of glowing forces, cloak raised to protect my face, black extended.

Jurt cursed me roundly as I came on. Then, «Pleased; brother? Pleased?» he said. «May death be the only peace between us.»

But I ignored the predictable sentiment, for I had to get a better look at what I thought I had seen moments before. I leaped over a piece of broken masonry and beheld the fallen sorcerer's face within the flames, head cradled against his shoulder.

«Julia!» I cried.

But they vanished even as I moved forward, and I knew it was time for me to do the same.

Turning, I fled through the fire.

Chapter 1

Her name was Julia, and I'd been damn certain she was dead back on April 30 when it all began. My finding her grisly remains and destroying the doglike creature which I'd thought had killed her were pretty much the way it started. And we had been lovers, which I suppose was how things had really commenced. Long before.

Perhaps I could have trusted her more. Perhaps I should never have taken hex on that shadow - walls which led to denials that took her away from me, down dark ways and into the studio of Victor Melman, a nasty occultist I later had to kill - the same Victor Melman who was himself the dupe of Luke and Jasra. But now, perhaps - just barely - I might have been in a position to forgive myself for what I'd thought I'd done, for it seemed that I hadn't really done it after all. Almost.

That is to say, I learned that I hadn't been responsible for it while I was in the act of doing it. It was when I drove my knife into the side of the mysterious sorcerer Mask, who had been on my case for some time, that I discovered that Mask was really Julia. My half brother Jurt, who's been trying to kill me longer than anyone else in the business, snatched her away, and they vanished then, immediately following his transformation into a kind of living Trump.

As I fled the burning, crumbling Keep there at the Citadel of the Four Worlds, a falling timber caused me to dodge to my right, trapping me in a cul-de-sac of crashed masonry and burning beams. A dark metal ball flashed past me then, seeming to grow as it moved. It struck the wall and passed through it, leaving a hole one could dive through - a hint I was not slow in taking. Outside I jumped the moat, using my Logrus extensions to knock aside a section of fence and a score of troops, before I turned back and shouted, «Mandor!»

«Right here,» came his soft voice from behind my left shoulder.

I turned in time to see him catch a metal ball, which bounced once before us and dropped into his extended hand.

He brushed ashes from his black vest and ran a hand through his hair. Then he smiled and turned back toward the burning Keep.

«You've kept your promise to the Queen,» he remarked, «and I don't believe there's anything more for you here. Shall we go now?»

«Jasra's still inside,» I answered, «having it out with Sharu.»

«I thought you were done with her.»

I shook my head.

«She still knows a lot of things I don't. Things I'll be needing.»

A tower of flame began to rear itself above the Keep, halted and hovered a moment, heaved itself higher.

«I didn't realize,» he said. «She does seem to want control of that fountain fairly badly. If we were to snatch her away now, that fellow Sharu will claim it. Does that matter?»

«If we don't snatch her away, he may kill her.» Mandor shrugged.

«I've a feeling she'll take him. Would you care to place a small wager?»

«Could be you're right,» I said, watching the fountain continue its climb skyward, following another pause. I gestured toward it. «Thing looks like an oil gusher. I hope the winner knows how to cap it - if there is a winner. Neither one of them may last much longer, the way the place is coming apart.»

He chuckled.

«You underestimate the forces they've generated to protect themselves,» he said. And you know it isn't all that easy for one sorcerer to do in another by sorcerous means. However, you've a point there when it comes to the inertia of the mundane. With your permission…?»

I nodded.

With a quick underhand toss he cast the metal ball across the ditch toward the burning building. It struck the ground and with each bounce thereafrer it seemed to increase in size. It produced a cymballike crash each time it hit, entirely out of proportion with its apparent mass and velocity, and this sound increased in volume on each successive bounce. It passed then into the burning, tottering ruin that was the near end of the Keep and for several moments was gone from sight.

I was about to ask him what was going on when I saw the shadow of a large ball pass before the opening through which I had fled. The flames - save for the central tower from the broken Fount - began to subside, and a deep rumbling sound came from within. Moments later an even larger circular shadow passed, and I began to feel the rumbling through the soles of my boots.

A wall tumbled. Shortly thereafter part of another wall fell. I could see inside fairly clearly through the dust and smoke the image of the giant ball passed again. The flames were snuffed. My Logrus vision still granted me glimpses of the shifting lines of power which flowed between Jasra and Sharu.

Mandor extended a hand. A minute or so later a small metal ball came bouncing our way, and he caught it. «Let's head back,» he said. «It would be a shame to miss the end.»

We passed through one of the many gaps in the fence, and sufficient rubble filled the ditch at one point for us to walk across on it. I spent a barrier spell then, to keep the re-forming troops of the prenuses and out of our way for a time.

Entering through the broken wall, I saw that Jasra stood with her back to the tower of fire, her arms upraised. Streaks of sweat lined her face zebra through a mask of soot, and I could feel the pulsing of the forces which passed through her body. About ten feet above her, face purple and head twisted to one side as if his neck were broken, Sharu hung in the middle of the air. To the untutored he might have seemed magically levitated. My Logrus sight gave me view of the line of force from which he hung suspended, however, victim of what might, I suppose, be termed a magical lynching.

«Bravo,» Mandor stated, clapping his hands slowly and softly together. «You see, Merlin? I'd have won that bet.»

«You always were a better judge of talent than I was,» I acknowledged.

«…and swear to serve me,» I overheard Jasra saying. Sharu's lips moved.

«And swear to serve you,» he gasped.

She lowered her arms slowly, and the line of force which held him began to lengthen. As he descended toward the Keep's cracked floor; her left hand executed a gesture similar to one I had once seen an orchestra conductor employ in encouraging the woodwinds, and a great gout of fire came loose from the Fountain, fell upon him, washed over him, and passed on down into the ground. Flashy, though I didn't quite see the point…

His slow descent continued, as if someone in the sky were trolling for crocodiles. I discovered myself holding my breath as his feet neared the ground, in sympathetic anticipation of the eased pressure on his neck. This, however, did not come to pass. When his feet reached the ground, they passed on into it, and his descent continued, as if he were an occulted hologram. He sank past his ankles and up to his knees and kept going. I could no longer tell whether he was breathing. A soft litany of commands rolled from Jasra's lips, and sheets of flame periodically separated themselves from the Fountain and splashed over him. He sank past his waist and up to his shoulders and slightly beyond. When only his head remained visible, eyes open but unfocused, she executed another hand move went, and his journey into the earth was halted.

«You are now the guardian of the Fount,» she stated, «answerable only to me. Do you acknowledge this?»

The darkened lips writhed.

«Yes,» came a whispered reply.

«Go now and bank the fires,» she ordered. «Commence your tenure.»

The head seemed to nod at the same time it began sinking again. After a moment only a cottony tuft of hair remained, and an instant later the ground swallowed this, too. The line of force vanished.

I cleared my throat. At the sound Jasra let her arms fall and turned toward me. She was smiling faintly.

«Is he alive or dead?» I asked, and then added, «Academic curiosity.»

«I'm not really certain,» she responded. «But a little of both, I think. Like the rest of us.»

«‘Guardian of the Fount,’» I reflected. «Interesting existence.»

«Beats being a coatrack,» she observed. «I daresay.»

«I suppose you feel I owe you some gratitude now, for - my restoratin,» she stated.

I shrugged.

«To tell you the truth, I've other things to think about,» I said.

«You wanted an end to the feud,» she said, «and I wanted this place back. I still have no kind thoughts toward Amber, but I am willing to say we're even.»

«I'll settle for that,» I told her. «And there is a small loyalty I may share with you.»

She studied me through narrowed eyes for a moment, then smiled.

«Don't worry about Luke,» she said.

«But I must. That son of a bitch Dalt-»

She continued to smile.

«Do you know something I don't?» I asked.

«Many things,» she replied.

«Anything you'd care to share?»

«Knowledge is a marketable commodity,» she observed, as the ground shook slightly and the fiery tower swayed.

«I'm offering to help your son and you're offering to sell me the information on how to go about it?» I inquired.

She laughed.

«If I thought Rinaldo needed help,» she said, «I'd be at his side this moment. I suppose it makes it easier to hate me if you feel I lack even maternal virtues.»

«Hey, I thought we were calling things even,» I said.

«That doesn't preclude hating each other,» she replied.

«Come on, lady! Outside of the fact that you tried to kill me year after year, I've got nothing against you. You happen to be the mother of someone I like and respect. If he's in trouble, I want to help him, and I'd as soon be on good terms with you.»

Mandor cleared his throat as the flames dropped ten feet, shuddered, dropped again.

«I've some fine culinary spells,» he remarked, «should recent exertions have roused some appetites.»

Jasra smiled almost coquettishly, and I'd swear she batted her eyelashes at him. While he makes a striking appearance with that shock of white hair, I don't know that you'd exactly call Mandor handsome. I've never understood why women are as attracted to him as they usually seem to be. I've even checked him out for spells on that particular count, but he doesn't wear one. It must be some different order of magic entirely.

«A fine idea,» she responded. «I'll provide the setting if you'll take care of the rest.»

Mandor bowed; the flames collapsed the rest of the way to the ground and were damped therein. Jasra shouted an order to Sharu, the Invisible Guardian, telling him to keep them that way then she turned and led us toward the downward stair.