He smiled.

  “I am glad to hear that.”

  I shrugged.

  “What are you going to do now?” I asked.

  “I am taking him to see Vialle,” Random said, “and then to meet the others, as time and opportunity permit. Unless, of course, something new has developed and you need me now.”

  “There have been new developments,” I said, “but I do not really need you now. I had better bring you up to date, though. I still have a little time.”

  As I filled Random in on events since his departure, I thought about Martin. He was still an unknown quantity so far as I was concerned. His story might be perfectly true. In fact, I felt that it was. On the other hand, I had a feeling that it was not complete, that he was intentionally leaving something out. Maybe something harmless. Then again, maybe not. He had no real reason to love us. Quite the contrary. And Random could be bringing home a Trojan Horse. Probably though, it was nothing like that. It is just that I never trust anyone if there is an alternative available.

  Still, nothing that I was telling Random could really be used against us, and I strongly doubted that Martin could do us much damage if that was his intention. No, more likely he was being as cagey as the rest of us, and for pretty much the same reasons: fear and self preservation. On a sudden inspiration, I asked him, “Did you ever run into Dara again after that?”

  He flushed.

  “No,” he said, too quickly. “Just that time. That’s all.”

  “I see,” I said, and Random was too good a poker player not to have noticed; so I had just bought us a piece of instant insurance at the small price of putting a father on guard against his long-lost son.

  I quickly shifted our talk back to Brand. It was while we were comparing notes on psychopathology that I felt the tiny tingle and the sense of presence which heralds a Trump contact. I raised my hand and turned aside.

  In a moment the contact was clear and Ganelon and I regarded one another.

  “Corwin,” he said, “I decided it was time to check. By now, you have the Jewel, Brand has the Jewel, or you are both still looking. Which one is it?”

  “Brand has the Jewel,” I said.

  “More’s the pity,” he said. “Tell me about it.”

  So I did.

  “Then Gerard had the story right,” he said.

  “He’s already told you all this?”

  “Not in such detail,” Ganelon replied, “and I wanted to be sure I was getting it straight. I just finished speaking with him.”

  He glanced upward.

  “It would seem you had best be moving then, if my memories of moonrise serve me right.”

  I nodded.

  “Yes, I will be heading for the stairway shortly. It is not all that far from here.”

  “Good. Now here is what you must be ready to do —”

  “I know what I have to do,” I said. “I have to get up to Tir-na Nog’th before Brand does and block his way to the Pattern. Failing that, I have to chase him through it again.”

  “That is not the way to go about it,” he said.

  “You have a better idea?”

  “Yes, I do. You have your Trumps with you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. First, you would not be able to get up there in time to block his way to the Pattern —”

  “Why not?”

  “You have to make the ascension, then you have to walk to the palace and make your way down to the Pattern. That takes time, even in Tir-na Nog’th — especially in Tir-na Nog’th, where time tends to play tricks anyway. For all you know, you may have a hidden death wish slowing you down. I don’t know. Whatever the case, he would have commenced walking the Pattern by the time you arrived. It may well be that he would be too far into it for you to reach him this time.”

  “He will probably be tired. That should slow him some.”

  “No. Put yourself in his place. If you were Brand, wouldn’t you have headed for some shadow where the time flow was different? Instead of an afternoon, he could well have taken several days to rest up for this evening’s ordeal. It is safest to assume that he will be in good shape.”

  “You are right,” I said. “I can’t count on it. Okay. An alternative I had entertained but would rather not try if it could be avoided, would be to kill him at a distance. Take along a crossbow or one of our rifles and simply shoot him in the midst of the Pattern. The thing that bothers me about it is the effect of our blood on the Pattern. It may be that it is only the primal Pattern that suffers from it, but I don’t know.”

  “That’s right. You do not know,” he said. “Also, I would not want you to rely on normal weapons up there. That is a peculiar place. You said yourself it is like a strange piece of Shadow drifting in the sky. While you figured how to make a rifle fire in Amber, the same rules may not apply up there.”

  “It is a risk,” I acknowledged.

  “As for the crossbow — supposing a sudden gust of wind deflected the bolt each time you shot one?”

  “I am afraid I do not follow you.”

  “The Jewel. He walked it part way through the primal Pattern, and he has had some time to experiment with it since then. Do you think it possible that he is partly attuned to it now?”

  “I do not know. I am not at all that sure how the process works.”

  “I just wanted to point out that if it does work that way, he may be able to use it to defend himself. The Jewel may even have other properties you are not aware of. So what I am saying is that I would not want you to count on being able to kill him at a distance. And I would not even want you to rely on being able to pull the trick you did with the Jewel again — not if he may have gained some measure of control over it.”

  “You do make things look a little bleaker than I had them.”

  “But possibly more realistic,” he said.

  “Conceded. Go on. You said you had a plan.”

  “That is correct. My thinking is that Brand must not be allowed to reach the Pattern at all, that once he sets foot upon it the probability of disaster goes way up.”

  “And you do not think I can get there in time to block him?”

  “Not if he can really transport himself around almost instantaneously while you have to take a long walk. My bet is that he is just waiting for moonrise, and as soon as the city takes form he will be inside, right next to the Pattern.”

  “I see the point, but not the answer.”

  “The answer is that you are not going to set foot in Tir-na Nog’th tonight.”

  “Hold on a minute!”

  “Hold on, hell! You imported a master strategist, you’d better listen to what he has to say.”

  “Okay, I am listening.”

  “You have agreed that you probably cannot reach the place in time. But someone else can.”

  “Who and how?”

  “All right. I have been in touch with Benedict. He has returned. At this moment, he is in Amber, down in the chamber of the Pattern. By now, he should have finished walking it and be standing there at its center, waiting. You proceed to the foot of the stairs to the sky-city. There you await the rising of the moon. As soon as Tir-na Nog’th takes form, you will contact Benedict via his Trump. You tell him that all is ready, and he will use the power of the Pattern in Amber to transport himself to the place of the Pattern in Tir-na Nog’th. No matter how fast Brand travels, he cannot gain much on that.”

  “I see the advantages,” I said. “That is the fastest way to get a man up there and Benedict is certainly a good man. He should have no trouble dealing with Brand.”

  “Do you really think Brand will make no other preparations?” Ganelon said.

  “From everything I’ve heard about the man, he’s smart even if he is daft. He just may anticipate something like this.”

  “Possibly. Any idea what he might do?”

  He made a sweeping gesture with one hand, slapped his neck and smiled.

  “A bug,” he said. “Pardon me. Pesky little things.”

  “You still think —”

  “I think you had better remain in contact with Benedict the entire time he is up there, that is what I think. If Brand gets the upper hand, you may need to pull Benedict back immediately to save his life.”

  “Of course. But then —”

  “But then we would have lost a round. Admitted. But not the game. Even with the Jewel fully attuned, he would have to get to the primal Pattern to do his real damage with it — and you have that under guard.”

  “Yes,” I said. “You seem to have everything figured. You surprised me, moving so fast.”

  “I’ve had a lot of time on my hands recently, which can be a bad thing unless you use it for thinking. So I did. What I think now is that you had best move fast. The day isn’t getting any longer.”

  “Agreed,” I said. “Thanks for the good counsel.”

  “Save your thanks till we see what comes of it,” he said, and then he broke the contact.

  “That one sounded important,” Random said. “What’s up?”

  “Appropriate question,” I answered, “but I am all out of time now. You will have to wait till morning for the story.”

  “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “As a matter of fact,” I said, “yes, if you’ll either ride double or go back to Amber on a Trump. I need Star.”

  “Sure,” Random said. “No trouble. Is that all?”

  “Yes. Haste is all.”

  We moved toward the horses.

  I patted Star a few times and then mounted.

  “We’ll see you in Amber,” Random said. “Good luck.”

  “In Amber,” I said. “Thanks.”

  I turned and headed toward the place of the stairway, treading my tomb’s lengthening shadow eastward.

  Chapter 13

  On the highest ridge of Kolvir there is a formation which resembles three steps. I sat on the lowest of these and waited for more to occur above me. It takes night and moonlight to do this, so half of the requirements had been met.

  There were clouds to the west and northeast. I was leery of those clouds. If they massed sufficiently to block all moonlight, Tir-na Nog’th faded back to nothingness. This was one reason why it was always advisable to have a backup man on the ground, to Trump you to safety should the city vanish about you.

  The sky overhead was clear, however, and filled with familiar stars. When the moon came up and its light fell upon the stone at which I rested, the stairway in the sky would come into being, sweeping upward to a great height, taking its way to Tir-na Nog’th, the image of Amber that rode the night’s middle air.

  I was weary. Too much had occurred in too brief a time. Suddenly to be at rest, to remove my boots and rub my feet, to lean back and rest my head, even against stone, was a luxury, a pure animal pleasure. I drew my cloak together before me against the growing chill. A hot bath, a full meal, a bed would be very good things. But these assumed an almost mythic quality from that vantage. It was more than sufficient simply to rest as I was, to let my thoughts move more slowly, drifting, spectatorlike, back over the day’s happenings.

  So much… but now, at least, I had some answers to some of my questions. Not all of them, certainly. But enough to slake my mind’s thirst for the moment… I now had some idea as to what had been going on during my absence, a better understanding of what was happening now, a knowledge of some of the things that had to be done, of what I had to do… And I felt, somehow, that I knew more than I realized, consciously, that I already possessed pieces that would fit the growing picture before me, if I were only to jiggle them, flip them, rotate them properly. The pace of recent events, particularly today’s, had not allowed me a moment’s reflection. Now, though, some of the pieces seemed to be turning at odd angles…

  I was distracted by a stirring above my shoulder, a tiny effect of brightening in the higher air. Turning, then standing, I regarded the horizon. A preliminary glow had occurred out over the sea at the point where the moon would ascend. As I watched, a minute arc of light came into view. The clouds had shifted slightly also, though not enough to cause concern. I glanced up then, but the overhead phenomenon had not yet begun. I withdrew my Trumps, however, riffled them, and cut out Benedict’s.

  Lethargy forgotten, I stared, watching the moon expand above the water, casting a trail of light over the waves. A faint form was suddenly hovering on the threshold of visibility high overhead. As the light grew, a spark limned it here and there. The first lines, faint as spider webbing, appeared above the rock. I studied Benedict’s card, I reached for contact…

  His cold image came alive. I saw him in the chamber of the Pattern, standing at the designs’ center. A lighted lantern glowed beside his left foot. He became aware of my presence.

  “Corwin,” he said, “is it time?”

  “Not quite,” I told him. “The moon is rising. The city is just beginning to take form. So it will only be a little longer. I wanted to be certain you were ready.”

  “I am ready,” he said.

  “It is good that you came back when you did. Did you learn anything of interest?”

  “Ganelon called me back,” he said, “as soon as he learned what had happened. His plan seemed a good one, which is why I am here. As for the Courts of Chaos, yes. I believe I have learned a few things —”

  “A moment,” I said.

  The moonbeam strands had assumed a more tangible appearance. The city overhead was now clear in outline. The stairway was visible in its entirety, though fainter in some places than in others. I stretched forth enough to slake my mind’s thirst for the moment…

  Cool, soft, I encountered the fourth stair. It seemed to give somewhat beneath my push, however.

  “Almost,” I said to Benedict. “I am going to try the stairs. Be ready.”

  He nodded.

  I mounted the stone stairs, one, two, three. I raised my foot then and lowered it upon the fourth, ghostly one. It yielded gently to my weight. I was afraid to raise my other foot, so I waited, watching the moon. I breathed the cool air as the brightness increased, as the path in the waters widened. Glancing upward, I saw Tir-na Nog’th lose something of its transparency. The stars behind it grew dimmer. As this occurred, the stair became firmer beneath my foot. All resiliency went out of it. I felt that it might bear my full weight. Casting my eyes along its length, I now saw it in its entirety, here translucent, there transparent, sparkling, but continuous all the way up to the silent city that drifted above the sea. I raised my other foot and stood on the fourth stair. If I’d the mind, a few more steps would send me along that celestial escalator into the place of dreams made real, walking neuroses and dubious prophecy, into a moonlit city of ambiguous wish fulfillment, twisted time, and pallid beauty. I stepped back down and glanced at the moon, now balanced on the world’s wet rim. I regarded Benedict’s Trump in its silvery glow.

  “The stair is solid, the moon is up,” I said.

  “All right. I am going.”

  I watched him there at the center of the Pattern. He raised the lantern in his left hand and for a moment stood unmoving. An instant later he was gone, and so was Pattern. Another instant, and he stood within a similar chamber, this time outside the Pattern, next to the point where it begins. He raised the lantern high and looked all around the room. He was alone.

  He turned, walked to the wall, set the lantern beside it. His shadow stretched toward the Pattern, changed shape as he turned on his heel, moved back to his first position.

  This Pattern, I noted, glowed with a paler light than the one in Amber — silvery white, without the hint of blue with which I was familiar. Its configuration was the same, but the ghost city played strange tricks with perspective. There were distortions-narrowings, widenings — which seemed to shift for no particular reason across its surface, as though I viewed the entire tableau through an irregular lens rather than Benedict’s Trump.

  I retreated down the stairs, settled once again on the lowest step. I continued to observe.

  Benedict loosened his blade in its scabbard.

  “You know about the possible effect of blood on the Pattern?” I asked.

  “Yes. Ganelon told me.”

  “Did you ever suspect — any of this?”

  “I never trusted Brand,” he told me.

  “What of your journey to the Courts of Chaos? What did you learn?”

  “Later, Corwin. He could come any time now.”

  “I hope no distracting visions show up,” I said, recalling my own journey to Tir-na Nog’th and his own part in my final adventure there.

  He shrugged.

  “One gives them power by paying them heed. My attention is reserved for one matter tonight.”

  He turned through a full circle, regarding every part of the chamber, halted when he had finished.

  “I wonder if he knows you are there?” I said.

  “Perhaps. It does not matter.”

  I nodded. If Brand did not show np, we had gained a day. The guards would ward the other Patterns, Fiona would have a chance to demonstrate her own skill in matters arcane by locating Brand for us. We would then pursue him. She and Bleys had been able to stop him once before. Could she do it alone now? Or would we have to find Bleys and try to convince him to help? Had Brand found Bleys? What the hell did Brand want this kind of power for anyhow? A desire for the throne I could understand. Yet… The man was mad, leave it at that. Too bad, but that’s the way it was. Heredity or environment? I wondered wryly. We were all of us, to some degree, mad after his fashion. To be honest, it had to be a form of madness, to have so much and to strive so bitterly for just a little more, for a bit of an edge over the others. He carried this tendency to its extreme, that is all. He was a caricature of this mania in all of us. In this sense, did it really matter which of us was the traitor?

  Yes, it did. He was the one who had acted. Mad or not, he had gone too far. He had done things Eric, Julian, and I would not have done. Bleys and Fiona had finally backed away from his thickening plot. Gerard and Benedict were a notch above the rest of us — moral, mature, whatever — for they had exempted themselves from the zero-sum power game. Random had changed, quite a bit, in recent years. Could it be that the children of the unicorn took ages in which to mature, that it was slowly happening to the rest of us but had somehow passed Brand by? Or could it be that by his actions Brand was causing it in the rest of us? Like most such questions, the benefit of these was in the asking, not the answering. We were enough like Brand that I knew a particular species of fear nothing else could so provoke. But yes, it did matter. Whatever the reason, he was the one who had acted.