I fed it more gas. The foggy prospect seemed to brighten slightly, far ahead, though I supposed this could simply be some effect of my staring in that direction.
There was no particular feedback from the steering wheel. I pushed harder on the accelerator.
Luke reached out suddenly and turned on the radio. “— hazardous driving conditions,” came an announcer’s voice. “So keep your speed to a minimum.” There immediately followed Wynton Marsalis playing “Caravan.”
Taking it as a personal message, I eased up on the gas. This produced a definite feeling of light traction, as if, perhaps, we were gliding on ice.
A sensation of forward movement followed, and there did seem a brightening in the distance. Also, it seemed as if I had acquired some weight, was settling more deeply into the seat. Moments later the sensation of a real surface beneath the car became more pronounced. I wondered what would happen if I turned the wheel. I decided not to try it.
The sound from beneath the tires became more gritty. Dim outlines occurred at either hand, increasing the feeling of movement and direction as we passed them. Far ahead, the world was indeed brighter now.
I slowed even more because it began feeling as if I were negotiating a real road, with very poor visibility. Shortly thereafter, the headlights did seem to be operating with some effect, as they struck a few of the passing shapes, giving them the momentary appearance of trees and embankments, shrub clusters, rocks. The rearview mirror continued to reflect nothingness, however.
“Just like old times,” Luke said. “Goin’ out for pizza on a bad evening.”
“Yeah,” I agreed.
“I hope the other me has someone open a pizza parlor in Kashfa. Could use one there, you know?”
“I’ll come by and try it, if he does.”
“Where do you think this whole business is going to leave me, anyway?”
“I don’t know, Luke.”
“I mean, I can’t keep drinking your blood. And what about the other me?”
“I think I can offer you a job that will take care of the problem,” Corwin said to him. “For a while, anyway.”
The trees were definitely trees now, the fog real fog — moving about a bit. Beads of moisture began to form on the windshield.
“What do you mean?” Luke asked.
“In a minute.”
There were breaks in the fog now, real landscape visible through them. Abruptly, I became aware that it was not a real road surface on which I was driving, but rather a fairly level piece of ground. I slowed even more to accommodate this.
A big section of haze dissolved or blew away then revealing the presence of an enormous tree. Also, a section of the ground seemed to be glowing. There was a familiar feeling to this partial tableau…
“This is the place of your Pattern, isn’t it?” I asked, as our way grew even clearer. “Fiona brought me here once.”
“Yes,” came the reply.
“And its image — That’s the thing I saw confronting the Sign of the Logrus back in the graveyard — the same thing that led us into the tunnel.”
“Yes.”
“Then — It’s sentient, too. Like Amber’s, like the Logrus —”
“True. Park it over there, in that clear area by the tree.”
I turned the wheel and headed toward the level spot he had indicated. Fog still hung about the place, but nowhere near as heavy and all-encompassing as on the trail we had taken. It might have been twilight, from the shading of the mist, but the glow from that eccentric Pattern brightened our cup-shaped world beyond a day’s end dimness.
As we climbed out Corwin said to Luke, “Pattern ghosts tend not to last long.”
“So I understand,” Luke replied. “You know any tricks for someone in this position?”
“I know them all, sir. It takes one to know, as they say.”
“Oh?”
“Dad…?” I said. “You mean…”
“Yes,” he replied. “I do not know where the first version of myself might be.”
“You are the one I encountered a while back? The one who might have been present in Amber recently, also?”
“Yes.”
“I see. Yet, you don’t seem exactly like others I’ve encountered.”
He reached out and clasped my shoulder.
“I’m not,” he said, and he glanced toward the Pattern. “I drew that thing,” he went on, a little later, “and I’m the only person ever to have walked it. Consequently, I’m the only ghost it can summon. Also, it seems to regard me with something other than utilitarian attention. We can communicate, in a way, and it seems to have been willing to devote the energy needed to keep me stable — for a long while now. We have our own plans, and our relationship seems almost symbiotic. I gather that those of Amber’s Pattern and those of the Logrus are more in the nature of ephemera.”
“That’s been my experience,” I said.
“— except for one, to whom you ministered, for which I am grateful. She is under my protection now, for so long as it shall last.”
He released my shoulder.
“I haven’t been properly introduced to your friend yet,” he said then.
“Excuse me. A bit of extenuation there,” I said. “Luke, I’d like you to meet my father, Corwin of Amber. Sir, Luke is properly known as Rinaldo, son of your brother Brand.”
Corwin’s eyes widened for an instant, then narrowed as he extended his hand, studying Luke’s face.
“Good to meet a friend of my son’s, as well as a relative,” he said.
“Glad to know you, too, sir.”
“I’d wondered what it was that seemed so familiar about you.”
“It kind of slows down with appearances, if that’s what you’re getting at. Maybe even stops there.”
Dad laughed.
“Where’d you two meet?”
“In school,” Luke replied. “Berkeley.”
“Where else might a pair of us come together? Not in Amber, of course,” he said, turning away then to face his Pattern fully. “I’ll get your story yet. But come with me now. I want to do an introduction myself.”
He headed off toward the shining design and we followed him, a few wisps of fog drifting past us. Save for our short footfalls, the place was silent.
When we came up to the edge of his Pattern we halted and stared out across it. It was a graceful design, too big to take in at a glance; and a feeling of power seemed to pulse outward from it.
“Hi,” he said. “I want you to meet my son and my nephew, Merlin and Rinaldo — though I believe you met Merlin once before. Rinaldo has a problem.” There followed a long silence. Then he said, “Yes, that’s right,” and after a time, “You really think so?” and, “Okay. Sure, I’ll tell them.”
He stretched and sighed and took a few paces away from the Pattern’s edge. Then he extended his arms and put them around both our shoulders.
“Men,” he said then, “I’ve got an answer of sorts. But it means we’re all going to have to walk this Pattern, for different reasons.”
“I’m game,” Luke said. “But what’s the reason?”
“It’s going to adopt you,” Corwin said, “and sustain you as it does me. There’s a price, though. The time’s getting nearer when it will want to be guarded full-time. We can spell each other.”
“Sounds fine,” Luke said. “This place is kind of peaceful. And I didn’t really want to go back to Kashfa and try to depose myself.”
“Okay. I’ll lead, and you hold on to my shoulder in case there are any funny vibes to deal with. Merlin, you come last and maintain contact with Luke, for the same reason. All right?”
“Sure,” I said. “Let’s go.”
He released us and moved to the place where the line of the design began. We followed, and Luke’s hand was on his shoulder as he took the first step. Soon we were all of us on the Pattern, struggling the familiar struggle. Even when the sparks began to rise, though, this one seemed a little easier than I recalled from Pattern walks in the past, possibly because someone else was leading the way.