I can sort of hear you thinking, Frakir said suddenly, and I can offer you something in one area.
Oh? What might that be?
The one who brought you here.
The thing that looked like my father?
Yes.
What of him?
He was different from your other two visitors. He was human. They weren’t.
You mean it might actually have been Corwin?
I never met him, so I can’t say. He wasn’t one of those constructs, though.
Do you know what they were?
No. I only know one peculiar thing about them, and I don’t understand it at all.
I leaned forward and rubbed my temples. I took several deep breaths. My throat was very dry, and my muscles ached.
Go ahead. I’m waiting.
I don’t quite know how to explain it, Frakir said. But back in my pre-sentient days you inconsiderately wore me about your wrist when you walked the Pattern.
I recall. I had a scar for a long time after, from your reaction to it.
Things of Chaos and things of Order do not mix well. But I survived. And the experience is recorded within me. Now the Dworkin and the Oberon figures that visited you back at the cave—
Yes?
Beneath their apparent humanity they were pulsing energy fields within geometrical constructs.
Sounds sort of like computer animation.
Maybe it is something like that. I couldn’t say.
And my father wasn’t one of these?
Nope. But that wasn’t what I war getting at. I recognized the source.
I was suddenly alert.
What do you mean?
The swirls—the geometrical constructs on which the figures were based—they reproduced sections of the Pattern at Amber.
You must be mistaken.
No. What I lacked in sentience I made up in memory. Both figures were three-dimensional twistings of Pattern segments.
Why would the Pattern be creating simulacra to bug me?
I’m just a humble killing aid. Reasoning is not one of my strong points yet.
If the Unicorn and the Serpent are involved, I suppose the Pattern might be also.
We know that the Logrus is.
And it seemed to me that the Pattern demonstrated sentience the day Coral walked it. Say that’s true and add on the ability to manufacture constructs—Is this the place it wanted them to bring me? Or did Corwin transport me someplace else? And what does the Pattern want of me? And what does my father want of me?
I envy your ability to shrug, Frakir answered. Those are what I take it you call rhetorical questions?
I guess so.
Information of another sort is beginning to come to me, so I assume the night is ending.
I sprang to my feet.
Does that mean I can eat-and drink? I asked.
I believe so.
I moved quickly then.
While I am new to these things, I cannot help wondering whether it might be considered disrespectful to vault over an altar that way, Frakir commented.
The black flames flickered as I passed between them.
Hell, I don’t even know what it’s an altar to, I answered, and I’ve always thought of disrespect as something that had to be identity-specific.
The ground trembled slightly as I seized the jug and took a deep swallow.
Then, again, perhaps you have a point there, I said, choking.
I carried the jug and the loaf around the altar, past the stiffening dwarf and over to the bench which ran along the back wall. Seating myself, I commenced eating and drinking more slowly.
What comes next? I asked. You said that the information was flowing again.
You have kept vigil successfully, she said. Now you must select what you need from among the armor and weapons you watched, then pass through one of the three doorways in this wall.
Which one?
One is the door of Chaos, one the door of Order, and I know not the nature of the third.
Uh, how does one make an informed decision in these matters?
I think your way may be barred by all but the one you’re supposed to pass.
Then one does not really have a choice, does one?
I believe that the matter of the doorways may be predicated upon the choice one makes in the hardware department.
I finished the bread, washed it down with the rest of the water. I got to my feet then.
Well, I said, let’s see what they’ll do if I don’t make a choice. Too bad about the dwarf.
He knew what he was doing, what chances he was taking.
That’s more than I can say.
I approached the right-hand door since it was the nearest. It let into a bright corridor which grew brighter and brighter as it receded until sight of it was lost to me beyond a few paces’ distance. I kept walking. Damn near broke my nose, too. It was as if I’d encountered a wall of glass. It figures. I couldn’t picture myself walking off into the light that way.
You’re actually getting more cynical as I watch, Frakir observed. I caught that thought.
Good.
I approached the middle one more carefully. It wore gray and seemed to let into a long corridor also. I could see down it perhaps a little farther than the first, though no features other than walls, roof, and floor presented themselves. I extended my arm and discovered that my way was not barred.
Seems to be the one, Frakir observed.
Maybe.
I moved over to the left-hand doorway, its passage black as the inside of God’s pocket. Again there was no resistance when I explored for hidden barriers.
Hm. It appears I do have a choice.
Odd. I haven’t any instructions to cover this.
I returned to the middle one, took a step forward. Hearing a sound behind me, I turned. The dwarf had sat up. He was holding his sides and laughing. I tried to turn back then, but now something barred my return. Suddenly then the scene dwindled, as if I were accelerating to the rear.
I thought the little guy was dead, I said.
So did I. He gave every indication.
I turned away, back to the direction I’d been headed. There was no feeling of acceleration. Perhaps it was the chapel that was receding while I stood still.
I took a step forward, then another. Not a sound from my footfalls. I began walking. After a few paces I put out my hand to touch the left-hand wall. It encountered nothing. I tried again with the right. Again nothing. I took a step to the right and reached again. Nope. I still seemed approximately equidistant from two shadowy walls. Growling, I ignored them and strode forward.
What’s the matter, Merle?
Do you or do you not sense walls to the right and left of us? I asked.
Nope, Frakir replied.
Any idea at all where we are?
We are walking between shadows.
Where are we headed?
Don’t know yet. We’re following the Way of Chaos, though.
What? How do you know that? I thought we had to pick something Chaosian for the pile to be admitted here.
At this I gave myself a quick search. I found the dagger tucked into my right boot sheath. Even in the dim light I could recognize the workmanship as something from back home.
We were set up somehow, I said. Now I know why the dwarf was laughing. He planted this on me while we were passed out.
But you still had a choice—between this and the dark corridor.
True.
So why’d you pick this one?
The light was better.
Chapter 5
A half dozen steps later even the impression of walls had vanished. Ditto the roof, for that matter. Looking back, I saw no sign of the corridor or its entrance. There was only a vast dismal area. Fortunately the floor or ground remained firm underfoot. The only manner in which I could distinguish the way I traveled from the surrounding gloom had to do with visibility. I walked a pearl-gray trail through a valley of shadow,
though, technically, I supposed, I walked between shadows. Picky-picky. Someone or something had grudgingly spilled a minimum of light to mark my way.
I trudged through the eerie silence, wondering how many shadows I passed among, then wondering whether that was too linear a way of considering the phenomenon. Probably.
At that moment, before I could invoke mathematics, I thought I saw something move off to my right. I halted. A tall ebon pillar had come into view, barely, at the edge of vision. But it was not moving. I concluded that it was my own movement which had given it appearance of motion. Thick, still, smooth—I ran my gaze up that dark shaft until I lost sight of it. There seemed no way of telling how high the thing stood.
I turned away I took a few more paces. I noted another pillar then—ahead of me, to the left. I gave this one only a glance as I continued. Shortly more came into view at either hand. The darkness into which they ascended held nothing resembling stars, positive or negative; my world’s canopy was a simple, uniform blackness. A little later, the pillars occurred in odd groupings, some very near at hand, and their respective sizes no longer seemed uniform.
I halted, reached toward a stand of them to my left which seemed almost within touching range. It wasn’t though. I took a step in that direction.
There came a quick squeeze at my wrist.
I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Frakir observed.
Why not? I inquired.
It might be easy to get lost and into a lot of trouble.
Maybe you’re right.
I broke into a jog. Whatever was going on, my only real desire concerning it was to have it over with as soon as possible, so that I could get back to matters I considered important—like locating Coral, springing Luke, finding a way to deal with Jurt and Julia, looking for my father. . . .
The pillars, at varying distances, slid by, and items which were not pillars began occurring among them. Some were squat, asymmetrical; others were tall, tapered; some leaned upon neighbors, bridged them, or lay broken at their bases. It was something of a relief to see that monotonous regularity destroyed, in a way that showed that forces played upon forms.
The ground lost its flatness then, though it retained a stylized geometric quality in the stacked, step, and shelf-like appearance of its various levels. My own way remained flat and vaguely lighted as I jogged amid the ruins of a thousand Stonehenges.
I increased my pace, and soon I was running past galleries, amphitheaters, forest-like stands of stone. I seemed to glimpse movement within several of these, but again it could easily have been a function of velocity and poor lighting.
Sense anything alive in the neighborhood? I asked Frakir.
No, came the answer.
Thought I saw something move.
Maybe you did. Doesn’t mean it’s there.
Talking for less than a day, and you’ve already learned sarcasm.
I hate to say it, boss, but anything I learn I pick up from your vibes. Ain’t no one else around to teach me manners and like that.
Touché, I said. Maybe I’d better warn you if there’s trouble.
Touché, boss. Hey, I like these combat metaphors.
Moments later I slowed my pace. Ahead something was flickering off to the right. There were moments of blue and red within the changing light intensities. I halted. These glimpses lasted only a few moments but were more than sufficient to make me wary. I regarded their apparent source for a long while.
Yes, Frakir said after a time. Caution is in order, But don’t ask me what to expect. It a only a general feeling of menace that I have.
Perhaps there’s some way I could just sneak by whatever it is.
You’d have to leave the trail to do that, Frakir replied, and since the trail does run through the circle of stones where it’s coming from, I’d say no.
Nobody told me I couldn’t leave the trail. Do you have any instructions to that effect?
I know you are supposed to follow the trail. I’ve nothing specific concerning the consequences of leaving it, though.
Hm.
The way curved to the right, and I followed it. It ran directly into the massive circle of stones, and though I slowed my pace, I did not deviate. I studied it as I drew near, however, and noted that while the trail entered there, it did not emerge again.
You’re right, Frakir observed. Like the den of the dragon.
But we’re supposed to go this way.
Yes.
Then we will.
I’d slowed to a walk by then, and I followed the shining way between two gray plinths.
The lighting was different within the circle from without. There was more of it, though the place was still a study in black and white, with a fairyland sparkle to it. For the first time here I saw something that appeared to be living. There was something like grass underfoot; it was silver and seemed to be studded with dewdrops.
I halted, and Frakir constricted in a very odd fashion—less a warning, it seemed, than a statement of interest. Off to my right was an altar—not at all like the one over which I had vaulted back in the chapel. This one was a rude slab of stone set atop a couple of boulders. No candles, linens, or other ecclesiastical niceties kept company with the lady who lay atop it, her wrists and ankles bound. Because I recalled a similar bothersome situation in which I had once found myself, my sympathies were all with the lady—white-haired, black-skinned, and somehow familiar—my animus with the peculiar individual who stood behind the altar, faced in my direction, blade upraised in his left hand. The right half of his body was totally black; the left, blindingly white. Immediately galvanized by the tableau, I moved forward. My Concerto for Cuisinart and Microwave spell would have minced him and parboiled him in an instant, but it was useless to me when I could not speak the guide words.
I seemed to feel his gaze upon me as I raced toward him, though one side of him was too dark and the other too bright for me to know for certain. And then the knife hand descended and the blade entered her breast beneath the sternum with an arcing movement. At that instant she screamed, and the blood spurted and it was red against all those blacks and whites, and I realized as it covered the man’s hand that had I tried, I might have uttered my spell and saved her.
Then the altar collapsed, and a gray whirlwind obliterated my view of the entire tableau. The blood swirled through it to a barber pole-like effect, gradually spreading and attenuating to turn the funnel rosy, then pink, then faded to silver, then gone. When I reached the spot, the grasses sparkled, sans altar, sans priest, sans sacrifice.
I drew up short, staring.
“Are we dreaming?” I asked aloud.
I do not believe I am capable of dreaming, Frakir replied.
“Then tell me what you saw.”
I saw a guy stab a lady who was tied up on a stone surface, Then the whole thing collapsed and blew away. The guy was black and white, the blood was red, the lady was Deirdre-
“What? By God, you’re right! It did look like her—in negative. But she’s already dead—”
I must remind you that I saw whatever you thought you saw. I don’t know what the raw data were, just the mixing job your nervous system did on them. My own special perceptions told me that there were not normal people but were beings on the order of the Dworkin and Oberon figures that visited you back in the cave.
An absolutely terrifying thought occurred to me just then. The Dworkin and Oberon figures had had me thinking briefly of three-dimensional computer simulations. And the Ghostwheel’s shadow-scanning ability was based on digitized abstractions of portions of Pattern I believed to be particularly concerned with this quality. And Ghost had been wondering—almost wistfully, it now seemed—concerning the qualifications for godhood.
Could my own creation be playing games with me? Might Ghost have imprisoned me in a stark and distant shadow, blocked all my efforts at communication, and set about playing an elaborate game with me? If he could beat his own creator, for whom he seemed to feel something of awe,
might he not feel he had achieved personal elevation to a level beyond my status in his private cosmos? Maybe. If one keeps encountering computer simulations, cherchez le deus ex machina.
It made me wonder just how strong Ghost really was. Though his power was, in part, an analogue of the Pattern, .I was certain it did not match that of the Pattern—or the Logrus. I couldn’t see him blocking this place off from either.
On the other hand, all that would really be necessary would be to block me. I suppose he could have impersonated the Logrus in our flash encounter on my arrival. But that would have required Ghost’s actually enhancing Frakir, and I didn’t believe he could do it. And what about the Unicorn and the Serpent?
“Frakir,” I asked, “are you sure it was really the Logrus that enhanced you this time and programmed you with all the instructions you’re carrying?”
Yes.
“What makes you certain?”
It had the same feeling as our first encounter back within the Logrus, when I was enhanced initially.
“I see. Next question: Could the Unicorn and the Serpent we saw back in the chapel have been the same sort of things as the Oberon or Dworkin figures back at the cave?”
No. I’d have known. They weren’t like them at all. They were terrible and powerful and very much what they seemed.
“Good,” I said. “I was worried this might be some elaborate charade on the part of the Ghostwheel.”
I see that in your mind. Though I fail to see why the reality of the Unicorn and the Serpent defeats the thesis. They could simply have entered the Ghost's construct to tell you to stop horsing around because they want to see this thing played out.
“I hadn’t thought of that.”
And maybe the Ghost was able to locate and penetrate a place that is pretty much inaccessible to the Pattern and the Logrus.
“I suppose you’ve a point there. Unfortunately this pretty much puts me back where I started.”
No, because this place is not something Ghost put together. It’s always been around. I learned that much from the Logrus.
“I suppose there’s some small comfort in knowing that, but—”
I never completed the thought because a sudden movement called my attention to the opposite quadrant of the circle. There I beheld an altar I had not noted before, a female figure standing behind it, a man dappled in shadow and light lying, fund, upon it. They looked very similar to the first pair. .
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