How can I be sure we’re on the proper side of the thing? Or heading for the right area? I asked.
You’re still going in the proper direction, Frakir answered.
But you don’t know how much farther it’ll be?
Nope. I’ll know when I see it, though.
The sun is going to slip behind the mountain fairly soon. Will you be able to see it to know it then?
I believe the sky actually brightens here when the sun goes away. Negative space is funny that way, Whatever, something is always bright here and something is always dark. There’ll be the wherewithal for detection.
Any idea what we’re actually doing?
One of those damned quest-things, I think.
Vision? Or practical?
It was my understanding that they all partake of both, though I feel this one is heavily weighted toward the latter. On the other wrist, anything you encounter between shadows is likely to partake of the allegorical, the emblematic — all that crap people bury in the nonconscious parts of their beings.
In other words, you don’t know either.
Not for sure, but I make my living as a sensitive guesser.
I reached high, grabbed handholds, drew myself up to another ledge. I followed it for a time, climbed again. At length the sun went away, and it made no difference in my ability to see. Darkness and light changed places.
I scaled a five- or six-meter irregularity and halted when I finally got a look into the recessed area it rose to. There was an opening in the face of the mountain to its rear. I hesitated to label it a cave because it appeared artificial. It looked as if it had been carved in the form of an arch, and it was big enough to ride through on horse-back.
What do you know, Frakir commented, twitching once upon my wrist. This is it.
What? I asked.
The first station, she replied. You stop here and go through a bit of business before moving on.
That being?
It’s easier just to go and look.
I hauled myself up over the edge, got to my feet, and walked forward. The big entranceway was filled with that sourceless light. I hesitated on the threshold, peered within.
It looked to be a generic chapel. There was a small altar, a pair of candles upon it sporting flickering coronas of blackness. There were stone benches carved along the walls. I counted five doorways apart from the one by which I stood: three in the wall across from me; one in that to the right; another to the left. Two piles of battle gear lay in the middle of the room. There were no symbols of whatever religion might be represented.
I entered.
What am I supposed to do here? I asked.
You are supposed to sit vigil, guarding your armor overnight.
Aw, come on, I said, moving forward to inspect the stuff. What’s the point?
That’s not a part of the information I’ve been given.
I picked up a fancy white breastplate which would have made me look like Sir Galahad. Just my size, it seemed. I shook my head and lowered the piece. I moved over to the next pile and picked up a very oddlooking gray gauntlet. I dropped it immediately and rooted through the rest of the stuff. More of the same. Contoured to fit me, also. Only —
What is the matter, Merlin?
The white stuff, I said, looks as if it would fit me right now. The other armor appears to be of a sort used in the Courts. It looks as if it would fit me just right when I’m shifted into my Chaos form. So either set would probably do for me, depending on circumstances. I can use only one outfit at a time, though. Which am I supposed to guard?
I believe that’s the crux of the matter. I think you’re supposed to choose.
Of course! I snapped my fingers, heard nothing. How slow of me, that I need to have things explained by my strangling cord!
I dropped to my knees, swept both sets or armor and weapons together into one nasty-looking heap.
If I have to guard them, I said, I’ll guard both sets. I don’t care to take sides.
I’ve a feeling something isn’t going to like that, Frakir answered.
I stepped back and regarded the pile.
Tell me about this vigil business again, I said. What all’s involved?
You’re supposed to sit up all night and guard it.
Against what?
Against anything that tries to misappropriate it, I guess. The powers of Order —
— or Chaos.
Yeah, I see what you mean. Heaped up together that way, anything might come by to grab off a piece.
I seated myself on the bench along the rear wall, between two doorways. It was good to rest for a bit after my long climb. But something in my mind kept grinding away. Then, after a time, What’s in it for me? I asked.
What do you mean?
Say I sit here all night and watch the stuff. Maybe something even comes along and makes a pass at it. Say I fight it off. Morning comes, the stuff is still here, I’m still here, Then what? What have I gained?
Then you get to don your armor, pick up your weapons, and move on to the next stage of affairs.
I stifled a yawn.
You know, I don’t think I really want any of that stuff, I said then. I don’t like armor, and I’m happy with the sword I’ve got. I clapped my hand to its hilt. It felt strange, but then so did I. Why don’t we just leave the whole pile where it is and move on to the next stage now? What is the next stage anyway?
I’m not sure. The way the Logrus threw information at me it just seems to surface at the appropriate time. I didn’t even know about this place till I saw the entrance.
I stretched and folded my arms. I leaned my back against the wall. I extended my legs and crossed them at the ankles.
Then we’re stuck here till something happens or you get inspired again?
Right.
Wake me when it’s over, I said, and I closed my eyes.
The wrist twitch that followed was almost painful.
Hey! You can’t do that! Frakir said. The whole idea is that you sit up all night and watch.
And a very half assed idea it is, I said. I refuse to play such a stupid game. If anything wants the stuff, I’ll give it a good price on it.
Go ahead and sleep if you want. But what if something comes along and decides you had better be taken out of the picture first?
To begin with, I replied, I don’t believe that anything could care about that pile of medieval junk, let alone lust after it — and in closing, it’s your job to warn me of danger.
Aye, aye, Captain. But this is a weird place. What if it limits my sensitivity some way?
You’re really reaching now, I said. I guess you’ll just have to improvise.
I dozed. I dreamed that I stood within a magic circle and various things tried to get at me. When they touched the barrier, though, they were transformed into stick figures, cartoon characters which rapidly faded. Except for Corwin of Amber, who smiled faintly and shook his head.
“Sooner or later you’ll have to step outside,” he said.
“Then let it be later,” I replied.
“And all your problems will still be there, right where you left them.”
I nodded.
“But I’ll be rested,” I answered.
“Then it’s a trade-off. Good luck.”
“Thanks.”
The dream fell apart into random images then. I seem to remember standing outside the circle a little later, trying to figure a way to get back in…
I wasn’t certain what woke me. It couldn’t have been a noise. But suddenly I was alert and rising, and the first thing I beheld was a dwarf with a mottled complexion, his hands clasped at his throat, lying unmoving in a twisted position near the armor pile.