“What are we waiting for?” Dara asked. “Confirmation?”
“Yes,” I replied.
Random began to pace. Benedict seated himself and tested the dressing on his arm. Gerard leaned against the mantelpiece. I stood and thought. An idea came to me just then. I pushed it away immediately, but it returned. I did not like it, but that had nothing to do with practicalities. I would have to move quickly, though, before I had a chance to talk myself around to another viewpoint. No. I would stick with this one. Damn it!
There came a stirring of contact. I waited. Moments later, I regarded Fiona again. She stood in a familiar place that it took me several seconds to recognize Dworkin’s sitting room, on the other side of the heavy door at the back of the cave. Dad and Dworkin were both with her. Dad had dropped his Ganelon disguise and was his old self once again. I saw that he wore the Jewel.
“Corwin,” Fiona said, “it is true. Dad did send the attack order with Dara, and he expected this call for confirmation. I —”
“Fiona, bring me through.”
“What?”
“You heard me. Now!”
I extended my right hand. She reached forward and we touched.
“Corwin!” Random shouted. “What’s happening!”
Benedict was on his feet, Gerard already moving toward me.
“You will hear about it shortly,” I said, and I stepped forward.
I squeezed her hand before I released it and I smiled.
“Thanks, Fi. Hello, Dad. Hi, Dworkin. How’s everything?”
I glanced once at the heavy door, saw that it stood open. Then I passed around Fiona and moved toward them. Dad’s head was lowered, his eyes narrowed. I knew that look.
“What is this, Corwin? You are here without leave,” he said. “I have confirmed that damned order, now I expect it to be carried out.”
“It will be,” I said, nodding. “I did not come here to argue about that.”
“What, then?”
I moved nearer, calculating my words as well as the distance. I was glad that he had remained seated.
“For a time we rode as comrades,” I said. “Damned if I did not come to like you then. I never had before, you know. Never had guts enough to say that before either, but you know it is true. I like to think that that is how things could have been, if we had not been what we are to each other.”
For the barest moment, his gaze seemed to soften as I positioned myself. Then, “At any rate,” I went on, “I am going to believe in you that way rather than this way, because there is something I would never have done for you otherwise.”
“What?” he asked.
“This.”
I seized the Jewel with an upward sweeping motion and snapped the chain up over his head. I pivoted on my heel then and raced across the room and through the door. I drew it shut behind me and snapped it to. I could see no way to bar it from the outside, so I ran on, retracing the route through the cave from that night I had followed Dworkin along it. Behind me, I heard the expected bellow.
I followed the twistings. I stumbled only once. Wixer’s smell still hung heavy in his lair. I pounded on and a final turning brought me a view of daylight ahead.
I raced toward it, slipping the Jewel’s chain over my head as I went. I felt it fall to my breast, I reached down into it with my mind. There were echoes in the cave behind me.
Outside!
I sprinted toward the Pattern, feeling through the Jewel, turning it into an extra sense. I was the only person other than Dad or Dworkin fully attuned to it. Dworkin had told me that the Pattern’s repair might be effected by a person’s walking the Grand Pattern in such a state of attunement, burning out the smear at each crossing, replacing it with stock from the image of the Pattern that he bore within him, wiping out the black road in the process. Better me than Dad, then. I still felt that the black road owed something of its final form to the strength my curse against Amber had given it. I wanted to wipe that out, too. Dad would do a better job of putting things together after the war than I ever could, anyway. I realized, at that moment, that I no longer wanted the throne. Even if it were available, the prospect of administering to the kingdom down all the dull centuries that might lie before me was overwhelming. Maybe I would be taking the easy way out if I died in this effort. Eric was dead, and I no longer hated him. The other thing that had driven me — the throne — seemed now to have been desirable only because I’d thought he had wanted it so. I renounced both. What was left? I had laughed at Vialle, then wondered. But she had been right. The old soldier in me was strongest. It was a matter of duty. But not duty alone. There was more…
I reached the edge of the Pattern, quickly made my way toward its beginning. I glanced back at the cavemouth. Dad, Dworkin, Fiona — none of them had yet emerged. Good. They could never make it in time to stop me. Once I set foot on the Pattern, if would be too late for them to do anything but wait and watch. I thought for a fleeting instant of Iago’s dissolution, pushed that thought away, strove to calm my mind to the level necessary for the undertaking, recalled my battle with Brand in this place and his strange departure, pushed that away, too, slowed my breathing, prepared myself.
A certain lethargy came upon me. It was time to begin, but I held back for a moment, trying to fix my mind properly on the grand task that lay before me. The Pattern swam for a moment in my vision. Now! Damn it! Now! No more preliminaries! Begin, I told myself. Walk!
Still, I stood, contemplating the Pattern as in a dream. I forgot about myself for long moments as I regarded it. The Pattern, with its long black smear to be removed…
It no longer seemed important that it might kill me. My mind drifted, considering the beauty of the thing…
I heard a sound. It would be Dad, Dworkin, Fiona, coming. I had to do something before they reached me. I had to walk it, in a moment…
I pulled my gaze away from the Pattern and glanced back toward the cavemouth. They had emerged, come partway down the slope and halted. Why? Why had they stopped?
What did it matter? I had the time I needed in which to begin. I began to raise my foot, to step forward.
I could barely move. I inched my foot ahead with a great effort of will. Taking this first step was proving worse than walking the Pattern itself, near to the end. But it did not seem so much an external resistance I fought against as it did the sluggishness at my own body. It was almost as if —
Then I had me an image of Benedict beside the Pattern in Tir-na Nog’th, Brand approaching, mocking, the Jewel burning upon his breast.
Before I looked down, I knew what I would see. The red stone was pulsing in time with my heartbeat. Damn them! Either Dad or Dworkin — or both of them — readied through it at this instant, paralyzing me. I did not doubt that either of them could manage it alone. Still, at this distance, it was not worth surrendering without a fight.
I continued to push forward with my foot, sliding it slowly ahead toward the edge of the Pattern. Once I made it, I did not see how they…
Drowsing… I felt myself beginning to fall. I had been asleep for a moment. It happened again.
When I opened my eyes, I could see a portion of the Pattern. When I turned my head, I saw feet.
When I looked up, I saw Dad holding the Jewel.
“Go away,” he said to Dworkin and Fiona, without turning his head toward them.