“How'd you do that?” he hollered.
“I didn't,” I replied.
“Oh.”
He edged his way to his right till he came to the wall. Maintaining contact with it, he began moving about the Pattern's periphery, as if afraid to approach any nearer to it than he had to or to remove his gaze from it.
From this side I could see Coral a bit more clearly, within the fiery hedge. Funny It was not as if there were a large emotional investment here. We were not lovers, not even terrifically close friends. We had become acquainted only the other day, shared a long walk about, around, and under the town and palace, had a meal together, a couple of drinks, a few laughs. If we became better acquainted, perhaps we would discover that we couldn't stand each other. Still, I had enjoyed her company, and I realized that I did want to take the time to get to know her better. And in some ways I felt responsible for her present condition, through a kind of contributory negligence. In other words, the Pattern had me by the balls. If I wanted to free her, I had to repair it.
The flames nodded in my direction.
“It's a dirty trick,” I said aloud.
The flames nodded again.
I continued to study the Broken Pattern. Almost everything I knew about the phenomenon had come to me by way of my conversation with Jasra. But I recalled her telling me that initiates of the Broken Pattern walked it in the areas between the lines, whereas the image in the Jewel was instructing me to walk the lines, as one normally would the Pattern itself. Which made sense, as I recalled my father's story. It should serve to inscribe the proper path across the breaks. I wasn't looking for any half assed between-the-lines initiation.
Jurt made his way about the far end of the Pattern, turned, and began to move toward me. When he came abreast of a break in the outer line, the light flowed from it across the floor. The look on his face was ghastly as it touched his foot. He screamed and began to melt.
“Stop!” I cried. “Or you can find another Pattern repairman! Restore him and leave him alone or I won't do it! I mean it!”
Jurt's collapsing legs lengthened again. The rush of blue-white incandescence which had fled upward through his body was withdrawn as the light retreated from him. The expression of pain left his face.
“I know he's a Logrus-ghost,” I said, “and he's patterned on my Least favorite relative, but you leave him alone, you son of a bitch, or I won't walk you! You can keep Coral and you can stay broken!”
The light flowed back through the imperfection, and things stood as they had moments before.
“I want a promise,” I said.
A gigantic sheet of flame rose from the Broken Pattern to the top of the chamber, then fell again.
“I take it that is an affirmative,” I said.
The flames nodded.
“Thanks,” I heard Jurt whisper.
VIII
And so I commenced my walk. The black line did not have the same feeling to it as the blazing ones back under Amber. My feet came down as if on dead ground, though there was a tug and a crackle when I raised them.
“Merlin!” Jurt called out. “What should I do?”
“What do you mean?” I shouted back.
“How do I get out of here?”
“Go out the door and start shadow-shifting,” I said, “or follow me through this Pattern and have it send you wherever you want.”
“I don't believe you can shadow-shift this close to Amber, can you?”
“Maybe we are too close. So get away physically and then do it.”
I kept moving. There came small crackling sounds whenever I raised my feet now.
“I'd get lost in the caves if I tried that.”
“Then follow me.”
“The Pattern will destroy me.”
“It's promised not to.”
He laughed harshly.
“And you believe it?”
“If it wants this job done properly, it has no choice.”
I came to the first break in the Pattern. A quick consultation of the Jewel showed me where the line should lie. With some trepidation I took my first step beyond the visible marking. Then another. And another. I' wanted to look back when I finally crossed the gap. Instead, I waited until the natural curving of my route granted me that view. I saw then that the entire line I had walked thus far had begun to glow, just like the real thing. The spilled luminescence seemed to have been absorbed within it, darkening the interstitial ground area. Jurt had moved to a position near that beginning; He caught my gaze.
“I don't know, Merlin,” he said. “I just don't know.”
“The Jurt I knew wouldn't have had guts enough to try it,” I told him.
“Neither do I.”
“As you pointed out, our mother did it. Odds are you've got the genes. What the hell. If I'm wrong, it'll be over before you know it.”
I took another step. He gave a mirthless laugh.
Then, “What the hell,” he said, and he set his foot upon it.
“Hey, I'm still alive,” he called out. “What now?”
“Keep coming,” I said. “Follow me. Don't stop. And don't leave the line or all bets are off:”
There followed another turning of the way, and I foilowed it and lost sight of him. As I continued along, I became aware of a pain in my right ankle-product of all the hiking and climbing I had done, I supposed. It began increasing with each step. It was hot and soon grew to be quite terrible. Had I somehow torn a ligament? Had I—
Of course. I could smell the burning leather now.
I plunged my hand into the sheath area of my boot and withdrew the Chaos dagger. It was radiating heat. This proximity to the Pattern was affecting it. I couldn't keep it about me any longer.
I drew my arm back and cast the weapon across the Pattern in the direction I was facing, toward the end of the room where the doorway was situated. Automatically my gaze followed its passage. There was a small movement in the shadows toward which it flew. A man was standing there, watching me. The dagger struck the wall and fell to the floor. He leaned over and picked it up. I heard a chuckle. He made a sudden movement, and the dagger came arcing back across the Pattern in my direction.
It landed ahead and to the right of me. As soon as it made contact with the Pattern, a fountain of blue flame engulfed it, rising well above the level of my head, splattering, sizzling. I flinched and I slowed, though I knew it would do me no permanent harm, and I kept walking. I had reached the long frontal arc where the going was slow.
“Stay on the line,” I yelled to Jurt. “Don't worry about things like that.”
“I understand,” he said. “Who's that guy?”
“Damned if I know.”
I pushed ahead. I was nearer to the circle of flame now. I wondered what the ty'iga would think of my present predicament. I made my way around another turn and was able to see back over a considerable section of my trail. It was glowing evenly, and Jurt was coming on strongly, moving as I had, the flames rising above his ankles now. They were almost up to my knees. From the corner of my eye I saw a movement from that area of the chamber where the stranger stood.
The man moved forth from his shadowy alcove, slowly carefully, flowing along the far wall. At least he did not seem interested in walking the Pattern. He moved to a point almost directly opposite its beginning.
I had no choice but to continue my course, which took me through curves and turns that removed him from my sight. I came to another break in the Pattern and felt it knit as I crossed it. A barely audible music seemed to occur as I did so. The tempo of the flux within the lighted area seemed to increase also, as it flowed into the lines, etching a sharp, bright trail behind me. I called an occasional piece of advice to Jurt, who was several laps back, though his course sometimes brought him abreast of me and close enough to touch had there been any reason to.