“Just like old times,” Luke said. “Goin’ out for pizza on a bad evening.”
“Yeah,” I agreed.
“I hope the other me has someone open a pizza parlor in Kashfa. Could use one there, you know?”
“I’ll come by and try it, if he does.”
“Where do you think this whole business is going to leave me, anyway?”
“I don’t know, Luke.”
“I mean, I can’t keep drinking your blood. And what about the other me?”
“I think I can offer you a job that will take care of the problem,” Corwin said to him. “For a while, anyway.”
The trees were definitely trees now, the fog—real fog—moving about a bit. Beads of moisture began to form on the windshield.
“What do you mean?” Luke asked.
“In a minute.”
There were breaks in the fog now, real landscape visible through them. Abruptly, I became aware that it was not a real road surface on which I was driving, but rather a fairly level piece of ground. I slowed even more to accommodate this.
A big section of haze dissolved or blew away then revealing the presence of an enormous tree. Also, a section of the ground seemed to be glowing. There was a familiar feeling to this partial tableau. . . .
“This is the place of your Pattern, isn’t it?” I asked, as our way grew even clearer. “Fiona brought me here once.”
“Yes,” came the reply.
“And its image—That’s the thing I saw confronting the Sign of the Logrus back in the graveyard—the same thing that led us into the tunnel.”
“Yes.”
“Then—It’s sentient, too. Like Amber’s, like the Logrus—”
“True. Park it over there, in that clear area by the tree.”
I turned the wheel and headed toward the level spot he had indicated. Fog still hung about the place, but nowhere near as heavy and all-encompassing as on the trail we had taken. It might have been twilight, from the shading of the mist, but the glow from that eccentric Pattern brightened our cup-shaped world beyond a day’s end dimness.
As we climbed out Corwin said to Luke, “Pattern ghosts tend not to last long.”
“So I understand,” Luke replied. “You know any tricks for someone in this position?”
“I know them all, sir. It takes one to know, as they say.”
“Oh?”
“Dad . . . ?” I said. “You mean . . . ”
“Yes,” he replied. “I do not know where the first version of myself might be.”
“You are the one I encountered a while back? The one who might have been present in Amber recently, also?”
“Yes.”
“I—see. Yet, you don’t seem exactly like others I’ve encountered.”
He reached out and clasped my shoulder.
“I’m not,” he said, and he glanced toward the Pattern. “I drew that thing,” he went on, a little later, “and I’m the only person ever to have walked it. Consequently, I’m the only ghost it can summon. Also, it seems to regard me with something other than utilitarian attention. We can communicate, in a way, and it seems to have been willing to devote the energy needed to keep me stable—for a long while now. We have our own plans, and our relationship seems almost symbiotic. I gather that those of Amber’s Pattern and those of the Logrus are more in the nature of ephemera.”
“That’s been my experience,” I said.
“—except for one, to whom you ministered, for which I am grateful. She is under my protection now, for so long as it shall last.”
He released my shoulder.
“I haven’t been properly introduced to your friend yet,” he said then.
“Excuse me. A bit of extenuation there,” I said. “Luke, I’d like you to meet my father, Corwin of Amber. Sir, Luke is properly known as Rinaldo, son of your brother Brand.”
Corwin’s eyes widened for an instant, then narrowed as he extended his hand, studying Luke’s face.
“Good to meet a friend of my son’s, as well as a relative,” he said.
“Glad to know you, too, sir.”
“I’d wondered what it was that seemed so familiar about you.”
“It kind of slows down with appearances, if that’s what you’re getting at. Maybe even stops there.”
Dad laughed.
“Where’d you two meet?”
“In school,” Luke replied. “Berkeley.”
“Where else might a pair of us come together? Not in Amber, of course,” he said, turning away then to face his Pattern fully. “I’ll get your story yet. But come with me now. I want to do an introduction myself.”
He headed off toward the shining design and we followed him, a few wisps of fog drifting past us. Save for our short footfalls, the place was silent.
When we came up to the edge of his Pattern we halted and stared out across it. It was a graceful design, too big to take in at a glance; and a feeling of power seemed to pulse outward from it.
“Hi,” he said. “I want you to meet my son and my nephew, Merlin and Rinaldo—though I believe you met Merlin once before. Rinaldo has a problem.” There followed a long silence. Then he said, “Yes, that’s right,” and after a time, “You really think so?” and, “Okay. Sure, I’ll tell them.”
He stretched and sighed and took a few paces away from the Pattern’s edge. Then he extended his arms and put them around both our shoulders.
“Men,” he said then, “I’ve got an answer of sorts. But it means we’re all going to have to walk this Pattern, for different reasons.”
“I’m game,” Luke said. “But what’s the reason?”
“It’s going to adopt you,” Corwin said, “and sustain you as it does me. There’s a price, though. The time’s getting nearer when it will want to be guarded full-time. We can spell each other.”
“Sounds fine,” Luke said. “This place is kind of peaceful. And I didn’t really want to go back to Kashfa and try to depose myself.”
“Okay. I’ll lead, and you hold on to my shoulder in case there are any funny vibes to deal with. Merlin, you come last and maintain contact with Luke, for the same reason. All right?”
“Sure,” I said. “Let’s go.”
He released us and moved to the place where the line of the design began. We followed, and Luke’s hand was on his shoulder as he took the first step. Soon we were all of us on the Pattern, struggling the familiar struggle. Even when the sparks began to rise, though, this one seemed a little easier than I recalled from Pattern walks in the past, possibly because someone else was leading the way.
Images of avenues lined with ancient chestnut trees filled my mind as we trudged along and fought our way through the First Veil. By then, the sparks came higher about us and I felt the forces of the Pattern beating about me, penetrating me, body and mind. I recalled my days in school, remembered my greatest efforts on the athletic field. The resistance continued to rise, and we leaned into it. Moving my feet became a great effort, and I realized that—somehow—the effort was more important than the movement. I felt my hair beginning to rise as a current passed entirely through my body. Still, this had not to it the maddening quality of the Logrus the time I had negotiated it, nor the adversarial feeling I had felt upon Amber’s Pattern. It was almost as if I traversed the interior of a mind, one not unkindly disposed toward me. There was a feeling—of encouragement, almost—as I struggled along a curve, executed a turn. The resistance was as strong, the sparks came as high as on the other at about this point, yet I somehow knew that this Pattern held me in a different fashion. We pushed our way along the lines. We turned, we burned. . . . Penetrating the Second Veil was a slow-motion exercise in stamina and will. Our way eased for a time after that, and images from all over my life came to frighten and console me.
Walking. One, two. . . . Three. I felt that if I were able to take ten more steps I would have a chance to win through. Four. . . . I was drenched with perspiration. Five. The resistance was awful. It took all the eff
ort of running a hundred meters just to inch my foot ahead. My lungs were working like a bellows. Six. The sparks reached my face, passed my eyes, enveloped me completely. I felt as if I had been transformed into an immortal blue flame and that I must, somehow, burn my way through a block of marble. I burned and I burned and the stone remained unchanged. I could spend all of eternity this way. Perhaps I already had. Seven. And the images were gone. All of memory had fled. Even my identity was on vacation. I was stripped to a thing of pure will. I was an act, an act of striving against resistance. Eight. . . . I no longer felt my body. Time was an alien concept. The striving was no longer striving, but a form of elemental movement now, beside which glaciers rushed. Nine. Now I was only movement—infinitesimal, a constant. . . .
Ten.
There came an easing. It would become difficult again at the center end, but I knew that the rest of the walk was anticlimax. Something like a slow, low music buoyed me as I trudged ahead, turned, trudged. It was with me through the Final Veil, and as I passed the midpoint of that final stride, it became something like “Caravan.”
We stood there at the center, silent for a long while, breathing deeply. Exactly what I had achieved, I was uncertain. I did feel, though, that, in some way, I knew my father better as a result. Strands of mist still drifted, across the Pattern, across the valley.
“I feel—stronger,” Luke announced later. “Yes, I’ll help guard this place. It seems a good way to spend some time.”
“By the way, Luke, what was your message for me?” I asked.
“Oh, to tell you to clear out of the Courts,” he replied, “that things were getting dangerous.”
“I already knew the danger part,” I said. “But there are still things I must do.”
He shrugged. “Well, that’s the message,” he said. “No place really seems safe just now.”
“There won’t be any problems here yet,” Corwin said. “Neither Power knows exactly how to approach this place or what to do with it. It’s too strong for Amber’s Pattern to absorb, and the Logrus doesn’t know how to destroy it.”
“Sounds pretty easy, then.”
“There will probably come a time later, though, when they will try to move against it.”
“Until then, we wait and watch. Okay. If some things do come, what might they be?”
“Probably ghosts—like ourselves—seeking to learn more about it, to test. You any good with that blade?”
“In all modesty, yes. If that’s not good enough, I’ve studied the Arts, as well.”
“They’ll fall to steel, though it’s fire they’ll bleed—not blood. You can have the Pattern transport you outside now, if you wish. I’ll join you in a few moments to show you where the weapons are cached, and the other supplies. I’d like to take a little trip and leave you in charge for a while.”
“Sure thing,” Luke said. “What about you, Merle?”
“I’ve got to get back to the Courts. I’ve a luncheon engagement with my mother, and then Swayvill’s funeral to attend.”
“It may not be able to send you all the way to the Courts,” Corwin said. “That’s getting awfully near the Logrus. But you’ll work something out with it, or vice versa. How is Dara?”
“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen her for more than a few moments,” I answered. “She is still peremptory, arrogant, and over-solicitous when it comes to me. I get the impression, too, that she may be involved in local political scheming as well as aspects of the larger relationship between the Courts and Amber.”
Luke closed his eyes for a moment and vanished. Shortly afterward, I saw him beside the Polly Jackson car. He opened the door, slid onto the passenger seat, leaned and fiddled with something inside. A little later I could hear the radio playing music across the distance.
“It’s likely,” Corwin said. “I never understood her, you know. She came to me out of nowhere at a strange time in my life, she lied to me, we became lovers, she walked the Pattern in Amber, and she vanished. It was like a bizarre dream. It was obvious that she used me. For years I thought that it was only to get knowledge of the Pattern and access to it. But I’ve had a lot of time for reflection recently, and I’m no longer certain that that was the case.”
“Oh?” I said. “What, then?”
“You,” he replied. “More and more I’m coming to think, what she really wanted was to bear a son or daughter of Amber.”
I felt myself grow cold. Could the reason for my own existence have been such a calculated thing? Had there been no affection there at all? Had I been intentionally conceived to serve some special purpose? I did not at all like the notion. It made me feel the way Ghostwheel must; carefully structured product of my imagination and intellect, built to test design ideas only an Amberite could have come up with. Yet he called me “Dad.” He actually seemed to care about me. Oddly, I had begun feeling an irrational affection for him myself. Was it partly because we were even more alike than I had consciously realized?
“Why?” I asked. “Why would it have been so important to her that I be born?”
“I can only remember her final words when she had completed the Pattern, turning into a demon in the process. ‘Amber,’ she said, ‘will be destroyed.’ Then she was gone.”
I was shaking now. The implications were so unsettling that I wanted to cry, sleep, or get drunk. Anything, for a moment’s respite.
“You think that my existence might be part of a long-term plan for the destruction of Amber?” I asked.
“`Might,”’ he said. “I could be wrong, kid. I could be very wrong, and if that’s the case I apologize for troubling you this much. On the other hand, it would also be wrong of me not to let you know what the possibility is.”
I massaged my temples, my brow, my eyes.
“What should I do?” I said then. “I don’t want to help destroy Amber.”
He clasped me to his breast for a moment and said, “No matter what you are and no matter what’s been done to you, there will have to be some element of choice for you, sooner or later. You are greater than the sum of your parts, Merlin. No matter what went into your birth and your life up to now, you’ve got eyes and a brain and a set of values. Don’t let anybody bullshit you, not even me. And when the time comes, if it comes, make damn sure the choice is your own. Nothing that’s gone before will matter then.”
His words, general as they had to be, drew me back from the place in my spirit where I had retreated. “Thanks,” I said.
He nodded. Then, “While your first impulse may be to force a confrontation on this matter,” he said, “I would advise against it. It would achieve nothing other than making her aware of your suspicions. It would be prudent to play a more careful game and see what you can learn.”
I sighed.
“You’re right, of course,” I said. “You came after me as much to tell me this as to help me escape, didn’t you?”
He smiled.
“Only worry about important things,” he said. “We’ll meet again.” And then he was gone.
I saw him, suddenly, over near the car, talking to Luke. I watched as he showed him where the caches were located. I wondered what time it was back in the Courts. After a while, they both waved to me. Then Corwin shook hands with Luke and turned and walked off into the fog. I could hear the radio playing “Lili Marlene.”
I focused my mind on the Pattern’s transporting me to the Ways of Sawall. There was a momentary swirling of blackness. When it cleared I was still standing at the center of the Pattern. I tried again, this time for Suhuy’s castle. Again, it refused to punch my ticket.
“How close can you send me?” I finally asked.
There was another swirling, but this one was bright. It delivered me to a high promontory of white stone beneath a black sky, beside a black sea. Two semicircles of pale flame parenthesized my position. Okay, I could live with that. I was at Fire Gate, a way-exchange in Shadow near to the Courts. I faced the sea and counted. When I’d located the fourteen
th flickering tower on my left, I walked toward it.
I emerged before a fallen tower beneath a pink sky. Walking toward it, I was transported to a glassy cavern through which a green river flowed. I paced beside the river till I found the stepping-stones that took me to a trail through an autumn wood. I followed this for almost a mile till I felt the presence of a way near the base of an evergreen. This took me to the side of a mountain, whence three more ways and two filmies had me on the nail to lunch with my mother. According to the sky, I had no time to change clothes.
I halted near a crossroads to dust myself off, straighten my apparel, comb my hair. I wondered, as I was about the business, who might receive my calling were I to try to reach Luke via his Trump—Luke himself, his ghost, both? Could the ghosts receive Trump calls? I found myself wondering what was going on back in Amber, too. And I thought of Coral, and Nayda. . . . Hell.
I wanted to be somewhere else. I wanted to be far away. The Pattern’s warning, via Luke, was well taken. Corwin had given me too much to think about, and I hadn’t had time to sort it through properly. I did not want to be involved in whatever was going on here in the Courts. I did not like all of the implications involving my mother. I did not feel like attending a funeral. I felt somehow, also, uninformed. You’d think that if somebody wanted something from me—something very important—they’d at least take the time to explain the situation and ask for my cooperation. If it were a relative, there was a strong possibility I’d go along with it. Getting my cooperation would seem a lot less dicey than any trickery intended to control my actions. I wanted to be away from those who would control me, as well as the games they were playing.
I could turn and head back into Shadow, probably lose myself there. I could head back to Amber, tell Random everything I knew, everything I suspected, and he would protect me against the Courts. I could go back to the Shadow Earth, come up with a new identity, get back into computer design. . . .
Then, of course, I would never know what was going on and what had gone before. As for my father’s real whereabouts—I’d been able to reach him from the Courts, never from anywhere else. In this sense, he was nearby. And there was no one else around here likely to help him.
The Chronicles of Amber Page 176
