“How’d you know that one came free?” Jurt whispered.
“The glow,” I replied.
“What glow?” he asked.
I did not answer him but thrust my right hand into the opened area, hoping offhandedly there were no booby traps. The opening extended back for a good distance beyond the length of the stone. And there I felt it, suspended from peg or hook: a length of chain. I caught hold of it and drew it forth. I heard Jurt catch his breath beside me.
The last time I had seen it was when Random had worn it at Caine’s funeral. It was the Jewel of Judgment that I held in my hand. I raised it quickly and slipped the chain over my head, letting that red stone fall upon my breast, just as the door to the sitting room was opened.
Placing my finger to my lips, once more I reached forward, caught hold of Jurt’s shoulders, and turned him back toward the opened wall which let upon our trail. He began to protest; but I propelled him with a sharp push, and he moved off in that direction.
“Who’s there?” I heard Vialle ask, and Jurt glanced back at me, looking puzzled.
I did not feel we could afford the time for my explaining by sign language or whisper that she was blind. So I gave him another push. Only this time he stepped to the side, extended his leg, slipped a hand behind my back, and pushed me forward. A brief expletive escaped my lips, and then I was falling. From behind me, I heard Vialle’s “Who -“ before her voice was cut off:
I tumbled onto the trail, managing to draw the dagger from my right boot as I fell. I rolled and came up with the point extended toward the figure of Borel, which seemed to have found its form once more.
He was smiling, his weapon yet undrawn, as he regarded me.
“There is no field of arms here,” he stated, “to provide you with a lucky accident such as you enjoyed when last we met. “
“Too bad,” I said.
“If I but gain that bauble you wear about your neck and deliver it to the place of the Logrus, I will be granted a normal existence, to replace my living counterpart-he who was treacherously slain by your father, as you pointed out.”
The vision of Amber’s royal apartments had vanished. Jurt stood off the trail, near what had been its interface with this odd realm. “I knew I couldn’t beat him,” he called out when he felt my glance, “but you took him once.”
I shrugged.
At this Borel turned toward Jurt.
“You would betray the Courts and the Logrus?” he asked him.
“On the contrary,” Jurt responded. “I may be saving them from a serious mistake.”
“What mistake might that be?”
“Tell him, Merlin. Tell him what you told me while we were climbing out of the deep freeze,” he said.
Borel glanced back at me.
“There’s something funny about this entire setup,” I said. “I’ve afeeling it’s all a duel between the Powers – the Logrus and the Pattern. Amber and the Courts may be secondary to the entire affair. You see-“
“Ridiculous!” he interrupted, drawing his weapon. “This is just made-up nonsense to avoid our duel.”
I tossed the dagger into my left hand and drew Grayswandir with my right.
“The hell with you then!” I said. “Come and get it!”
A hand fell upon my shoulder. And it kept right on falling with a sort of twist to it, spinning me into a downward spiral which threw me off to the left of the trail. From the corner of my eye, I saw that Borel had taken a step backward.
“You’ve a resemblance to Eric or to Corwin,” came a soft, familiar voice, “though I know you not. But you wear the Jewel, which makes your person too important to risk in a petty squabble.”
I came to a stop and turned my head. It was Benedict whom I beheld-a Benedict with two normal hands.
“My name is Merlin and I’m Corwin’s son,” I said; “and this is a master duelist from the Courts of Chaos.”