Later — again, how much later I do not know — a big man, the girl’s Black Davy, came and slapped me across the face and dragged me to my feet. I seized his right biceps and hung on. He half carried, half pulled me toward the door.
When I realized that he was going to cast me out into the cold, I tightened my grip to protest it. I squeezed with all my remaining strength, mumbling half-coherent pleas.
Then through sweat and tear-filled eyes. I saw his face break open and heard a scream come forth from between his stained teeth.
The bone in his arm had broken where I’d squeezed it.
He pushed me away with his left hand and fell to his knees, weeping. I sat upon the floor, and my head cleared for a moment.
“I … am … staying here,” I said, “until I feel better. Get out. If you come back — I’ll kill you.”
“You’ve got the plague!” he cried. “They’ll come for your bones tomorrow!” and he spat then, got to his feet, and staggered out.
I made it to the door and barred it. Then I crawled back to the bed and slept.
If they came for my bones the next day, they were disappointed. For, perhaps ten hours later, in the middle of the night, I awoke in a cold sweat and realized my fever had broken. I was weak, but rational once more.
I realized I had lived through the plague.
I took a man’s cloak I found in the wardrobe and took some money I found in a drawer.
Then I went forth into London and the night, in a year of the plague, looking for something…
I had no recollection of who I was or what I was doing there.
That was how it had started.
I was well into the Pattern now, and the sparks flashed continually about my feet, reaching to the height of my knees. I no longer knew which direction I faced, or where Random and Deirdre and Moire stood. The currents swept through me and it seemed my eyeballs were vibrating. Then came a pins-and-needle feeling in my cheeks and a coldness on the back of my neck, I clenched my teeth to keep them from chattering.
The auto accident had not given me my amnesia. I had been without full memory since the reign of Elizabeth I. Flora must have concluded that the recent accident had restored me. She had known of my condition. I was suddenly struck by the thought that she was on that Shadow Earth mainly to keep tabs on me.
Since the sixteenth century, then?
That I couldn’t say. I’d find out, though.
I took six more rapid steps, reaching the end of an arc and coming to the beginning place of a straight line.
I set my foot upon it, and with each step that I took, another barrier began to rise against me. It was the Second Veil.
There was a right-angle turn, then another, then another.
I was a prince of Amber. It was true. There had been fifteen brothers and six were dead. There had been eight Sisters, and two were dead, possibly four. We had spent much of our time in wandering in Shadow, or in our own universes. It is an academic, though valid philosophical question, as to whether one with power over Shadow could create his own universe. Whatever the ultimate answer, from a practical point we could.
Another curve began, and it was as though I were walking in glue as I moved slowly along it.
One, two, three, four… I raised my fiery boots and let them down again.
My head throbbed and my heart felt as though it were fibrillating to pieces.
Amber!
The going was suddenly easy once more, as I remembered Amber.
Amber was the greatest city which had ever existed or ever would exist. Amber had always been and always would be, and every other city, everywhere every other city that existed was but a reflection of a shadow of some phase of Amber. Amber, Amber, Amber … I remember thee. I shall never forget thee again. I guess, deep inside me, I never really did, through all those centuries I wandered the Shadow Earth, for often at night my dreams were troubled by images of thy green and golden spires and thy sweeping terraces. I remember thy wide promenades and the decks of flowers, golden and red. I recall the sweetness of thy airs, and the temples, palaces, and pleasances thou containest, contained, will always contain, Amber, immortal city from which every other city has taken its shape, I cannot forget thee, even now, nor forget that day on the Pattern of Rebma when I remembered thee within thy reflected walls, fresh from a meal after starvation and the loving of Moire, but nothing could compare with the pleasure and the love of remembering thee; and even now, as I stand contemplating the Courts of Chaos, telling this story to the only one present to hear, that perhaps he may repeat it, that it will not die after I have died within; even now, I remember thee with love, city that I was born to rule…
Ten paces, then a swirling filigree of fire confronted me, I essayed it, my sweat vanishing into the waters as fast as it sprang forth.
It was tricky, so devilish tricky, and it seemed that the waters of the room suddenly moved in great currents which threatened to sweep me from the Pattern. I struggled on, resisting them. Instinctively, I knew that to leave the Pattern before I’d completed it would mean my death. I dared not raise my eyes from the places of light that lay before me, to see how far I had come, how far I had yet to go.
The currents subsided and more of my memories returned, memories of my life as a prince of Amber… No, they are not yours for the asking, they are mine, some vicious and cruel, others perhaps noble-memories going back to my childhood in the great palace of Amber, with the green banner of my father Oberon flaring above it, white unicorn rampant, facing to the dexter.
Random had made it through the Pattern. Even Deirdre had made it. Therefore, I, Corwin, would make it, no matter what the resistance.
I emerged from the filigree and marched along the Grand Curve. The forces that shape the universe fell upon me and beat me into their image.
I had an advantage over any other person who attempted the walk, however. I knew that I had done it before, so I knew that I could do it. This helped me against the unnatural fears which rose like black clouds and were gone again, only to return, their strength redoubled. I walked the Pattern and I remembered all, I remembered all the days before my centuries on the Shadow Earth and I remembered other places of Shadow, many of them special and dear to me, and one which I loved above all, save for Amber.
I walked three more curves, a straight line, and a series of sharp arcs, and I held within me once again a consciousness of the things which I had never really lost: mine was the power over Shadows.
Ten arcs which left me dizzy, another short arc, a straight line, and the Final Veil.
It was agony to move. Everything tried to beat me aside. The waters were cold, then boiling. It seemed that they constantly pushed against me. I struggled, putting one foot before the other. The sparks reached as high as my waist at this point, then my breast, my shoulders. They were into my eyes. They were all about me. I could barely see the Pattern itself.
Then a short arc, ending in blackness.
One, two… And to take the last step was like trying to push through a concrete wall.
I did it.
Then I turned slowly and looked back over the course I had come. I would not permit myself the luxury of sagging to my knees. I was a prince of Amber, and by God! nothing could humble me in the presence of my peers. Not even the Pattern!
I waved jauntily in what I thought to be the right direction. Whether or not I could be made out very clearly was another matter.
Then I stood there a moment and thought.
I knew the power of the Pattern now. Going back along it would be no trick at all.
But why bother?
I lacked my deck of cards, but the power of the Pattern could serve me just as well…