“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 fol– lowed 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, Merfin 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.
Images of avenues lined with ancient chestnut trees filled my mind as we trudged along and fought our way through the First Veil. By then, the sparks came higher about us and I felt the forces of the Pattern beating about me, penetrating me, body and mind. I recalled my days in school, remembered my greatest efforts on the athletic field. The resistance continued to rise, and we leaned into it. Moving my feet became a great effort, and I realized that-somehow-the effort was more important than the movement. I felt my hair beginning to rise as a current passed entirely through my body. Still, this had not to it the maddening quality of the Logrus the time I had negotiated it, nor the adversarial feeling I had felt upon Amber's Pattern. It was almost as if I traversed the interior of a mind, one not unkindly disposed toward me. There was a feeling-of encouragement, almostas I struggled along a curve, executed a turn. The resistance was as strong, the sparks came as high as on the other at about this point, yet I somehow knew that this Pattern held me in a different fashion. We pushed our way along the lines. We fumed, we burned... Penetrating the Second Veil was a slow-motion exercise in stamina and will. Our way eased for a time after that, and images from all over my life came to frighten and console me.
Walking. One, two... Three. I felt that if I were able to take ten more steps I would have a chance to
win through. Four... I was drenched with perspiration. Five. The resistance was awful. It took all the effort of running a hundred meters just to inch my foot ahead.. My lungs were working like a bellows. Six. The sparks reached my face, passed my eyes, enveloped me com pletely. I felt as if I had been transformed into an immortal blue flame and that I must, somehow, burn my way through a block of marble. I burned and I burned and the stone remained unchanged. I could spend all of eternity this way. Perhaps I already had. Seven. And the images were gone. All of memory had fled. Even my identity was on vacation. I was stripped to a thing of pure will. I was an act, an act of striving against resistance. Eight... I no longer felt my body. Time was an alien concept. The striving was no longer striving, but a form of elemental movement now, beside which glaciers rushed. Nine. Now I was only movement-infinitesimal, a constant...
Ten.
There came an easing. It would become difficult again at the center end, but I knew that the rest of the walk was anticlimax. Something like a slow, low music buoyed me as I trudged ahead, turned, trudged. It was with me through the Final Veil, and as I passed the midpoint of that final stride, it became something like “Caravan.”
We stood there at the center, silent for a long while, breathing deeply. Exactly what I had achieved, I was uncertain. I did feel, though, that, in some way, I knew my father better as a result. Strands of mist still drifted, across the Pattern, across the valley.
“I feel-stronger,” Luke announced later. “Yes, I'll help guard this place. It seems a good way to spend some time.”
“By the way, Luke, what was your message for me?” I asked.
“Oh, to tell you to clear out of the Courts,” he replied, “that things were getting dangerous.”
“I already knew the danger part,” I said. “But there are still things I must do.”
He shrugged. “Well, that's the message,” he said. “No place really seems safe just now.”
“There won't be any problems here yet,” Corwin said. “Neither Power knows exactly how to approach this place or what to do with it. It's too strong for Amber's Pattern to absorb, and the Logrus doesn't know how to destroy it.”
“Sounds pretty easy, then.”
“There will probably come a time later, though, when they will try to move against it.”
“Until then, we wait and watch. Okay. If some things do come, what might they be?”
“Probably ghosts-like ourselves-seeking to learn more about it, to test. You any good with that blade?”