She glanced at me inquiringly when we neared the sixth passageway, but I just kept going. It was the seventh that I wanted, and when we finally came to it I turned, took a few paces, halted, and raised the lantern. We stood before a big metal-bound door.
I took the key down from the hook on the wall to my right, inserting it in the lock, turned it, withdrew it, and rehung it. Then I put my shoulder against the door and pushed hard. There followed a long moment of resistance, then slow movement accompanied shortly by a complaint from a tight hinge. Frakir tightened upon my wrist, but I kept pushing till the door was opened wide. Then I stood to the side and held it for Coral.
She moved a few steps past me into that strange chamber and halted. I stepped away and let the door swing shut, then came up beside her.
“So that's it,” she remarked.
Roughly elliptical, the intricately wound oval form of the Pattern glowed blue-white within the floor. I set the lantern aside. It wasn't really necessary, the glow from the Pattern providing more than sufficient illumination. I stroked Frakir, calming her. A jet of sparks rose at the far end of the great design, subsided quickly, occurred again nearer to us. The chamber seemed filled with a half familiar pulsing I had never consciously noted before. On an impulse-to satisfy a long-held point of curiosity-I summoned the Sign of the Logrus.
This was a mistake.
Immediately the image of the Logrus flared before me, sparks erupted along the entire length of the Pattern, and a high-pitched banshee wail rose from somewhere. Frakir went wild, my ears felt as if icicles had been driven into them, and the brightness of the writhing Sign hurt my eyes. I banished the Logrus in that instant, and the turmoil began to subside.
“What,” she asked me, “was that?”
I tried to smile, didn't quite manage it.
“A little experiment I'd always meant to try,” I told her.
“Did you learn anything from it?”
“Not to do it again, perhaps,” I answered.
“Or at least not till the company's left,” she said. "That hurt.”
She moved nearer to the edge of the Pattern, which had calmed itself again.
“Eerie,” she observed. “Like a light in a dream. But it's gorgeous. And all of you have to walk it to come into your heritage?”
“Yes.” She moved slowly to the right, following its perimeter. I followed her as she strolled, her gaze roving across the bright expanse of arcs and turns, short straight lines, long sweeping curves.
“I assume it is difficult?”
“Yes. The trick is to keep pushing and not to stop trying even if you stop moving,” I replied.
We walked on, to the right, circling slowly around to the rear. The design seemed to be within the floor rather than upon it, seen as through a layer of glass. But nowhere was the surface slippery.
We paused for a minute or so while she took its measure from a new angle.
“So how are you responding to it?” I finally asked.
“Esthetically,” she said.
“Anything else?”
“Power,” she said. “It seems to radiate something.”
She leaned forward and waved her hand above the nearest line. “It's almost a physical pressure,” she added then.
We moved farther, passing along the back length of the grand design. I could see across the Pattern, to the place where the lantern glowed on the floor near to the entranceway. Its light was negligible beside the greater illumination we regarded now.
Shortly, Coral halted again. She pointed.
“What is this single line, which seems to end right here?” she asked.
“It's not the end,” I said. “It's the beginning. That is the place where one commences the walking of the Pattern.”
She moved nearer, passing her hand above it also.
“Yes,” she said after a moment. “I can feel that it starts here.”
For how long we stood there, I am uncertain. Then she reached out, took hold of my hand and squeezed it.
“Thanks,” she said, “for everything.”
I was about to ask her why that had such a final sound about it, when she moved forward and set her foot upon the line.
“No!” I cried. “Stop!”
But it was too late. Her foot was already in place, brightness outlining the sole of her boot.
“Don't move!” I said. “Whatever you do, stay still!” She did as I said, holding her position. I licked my lips, which suddenly seemed very dry.
“Now, try to raise the foot you placed upon the line and draw it back. Can you do it?”
“No,” she replied.
I knelt beside her and studied it. Theoretically, once you'd set foot upon the Pattern there was no turning back. You had no choice but to continue and either make it through or be destroyed somewhere along the way. On the other hand, she should already be dead. Theoretically, again, anyone not of the blood of Amber shouldn't be able to set foot upon it and live. So much for theory.
“Hell of a time to ask,” I said. “But why'd you do it?
“You indicated to me back in the cave that my guess was correct. You said that you knew what I was.”
I recalled what I'd said, but that was with reference to my guess at her being the body-shafting entity. What could she have taken it to mean that had to do with the Pattern? But even as I sought after a spell that might free her from the Pattern's hold, the obvious answer to things drifted into my mind.
“Your connection with the House..?” I said softly.
“King Oberon supposedly had an affair with my mother before I was born,” she said. “The timing would have been right. It was only a rumor, though. I couldn't get anyone to provide details. So I was never certain. But I dreamed of it being true. I wanted it to be true. I hoped to find some tunnel that would bring me to this place. I wanted to sneak in and walk the Pattern and have the shadows unfold before me. But I was afraid, too, because I knew that if I were wrong I would die. Then, when you said what you said, you answered my dream. But I did not stop being afraid. I am still afraid. Only now I'm afraid that I won't be strong enough to make it.”
That sense of familiarity I had felt when I first met her.. – .. I suddenly realized that it was a general family resemblance that had caused it. Her nose and brow reminded me a bit of Fiona, her chin and cheekbones something of Flora. Her hair and eyes and height and build were her own, though. But she certainly did not resemble her nominal father or sister.
I thought again of a faintly leering portrait of my grandfather which I had often studied, in an upstairs hallway, to the west. The lecherous old bastard really got around. Giving him his due, though, he was a very goodlooking man...
I sighed and rose to my feet. I laid a hand upon her shoulder.
“Listen, Coral,” I said. “All of us were well briefed before we tried it. I am going to tell you about it before you take another step, and while I speak you may feel energy flowing from me into you. I want you to be as strong as possible. When you take your next step I do not want you to stop again until you have reached the middle. I may call out instructions to you as you move along, also. Do whatever I say immediately, without thinking about it.
“First I will tell you about the Veils, the places of resistance...”
For how long I spoke, I do not know.
I watched as she approached the First Veil.
“Ignore the chill and the shocks,” I said. “They can't hurt you. Don't let the sparks distract you. You're about to hit major resistance. Don't start breathing rapidly.”
I watched her push her way through.
“Good,” I said, as she came onto an easier stretch, deciding against telling her that the next Veil was far worse. “By the way, don't think that you're going crazy. Shortly, it will begin playing head games with you—”
“It already has,” she responded. “What should I do?”