I crossed to her.
“I owe you several apologies,” I said. “I’m ready to make them.”
“I’d heard you were back. I heard you were to be king.”
“Funny, I heard that, too.”
“Then it would be unpatriotic of me to stay mad, wouldn’t it?”
“I never meant to hurt you,” I said. “Physically, or any other way.”
Suddenly, we were holding each other. It lasted a long time before she told me, “Jurt says you’re friends now.”
“I guess we sort of are.”
I kissed her.
“If we got back together again,” she said, “he’d probably try to kill you again.”
“I know. This time the consequences could really be cataclysmic, too.”
“Where are you going right now?”
“I’m on an errand, and it’s going to take me several hours.”
“Why don’t you stop by when you’re finished? We’ve got a lot to talk about. I’m staying in a place called the Wisteria Room for now. Know where that is?”
“Yes,” I said. “This is crazy.”
“See you later?”
“Maybe.”
The next day I traveled to the Rim, for I’d heard report that the Pit-divers-those who seek after artifacts of creation beyond the Rim-had suspended operations for the first time in a generation. When I questioned them they told me of dangerous activities in the depths-whirlwinds, wings of fire, blasts of new-minted matter.
Sitting in a secluded place and looking down, I used the spikard I wore to question the one I didn’t. When I removed the shield in which I’d encased it, it commenced a steady litany, “Go to Mandor. Get crowned. See your brother. See your mother. Begin preparations.” I wrapped it again and put it away. If I didn’t do something soon he was going to suspect that I was beyond its control. Did I care?
I could just absent myself, perhaps going away with my father, helping him at whatever showdown might finally develop over his Pattern. I could even ditch both spikards there, enhancing the forces in that place. I could still rely on my own magic in a pinch. But my problem was right here. I had been bred and conditioned to be a perfect royal flunky, under the control of my mother, and possibly my brother Mandor. I loved Amber, but I loved the Courts as well. Fleeing to Amber, while assuring my safety, would no more solve my personal problem than running off with my dad-or returning to the Shadow Earth I also cared for, with or without Coral. No. The problem was here-and inside me.
I summoned a filmy to bear me to an elevated way to take me back to Sawall. As I traveled, I thought of what I must do, and I realized that I was afraid. If things got pushed as far as they well might, there was a strong possibility that I would die. Alternatively, I might have to kill someone I didn’t really want to.
Either way, though, there had to be some resolution or I’d never know peace at this pole of my existence.
I walked beside a purple stream beneath a green sun atop a pearly sky. I summoned a purple and gray bird, which came and sat upon my wrist. I had thought to dispatch it to Amber with a message for Random. Try as I might, however, I could phrase no simple note. Too many things depended on other things. Laughing, I released it and leapt from the bank, where I struck another way above the water.
Returned to Sawall, I made my way to the sculpture hall. By then, I knew what I must try to do and how I must go about it. I stood where I had stood-how long ago?-regarding massive structures, simple figures, intricate ones.
“Ghost?” I said. “You in the neighborhood?”
There was no response.
“Ghost!” I repeated more loudly. “Can you hear me?”
Nothing.
I dug out my Trumps, located the one I had done for Ghostwheel, bright circle.
I regarded it with some intensity, but it was slow to grow cool. This was understandable, considering some of the odd areas of space to which this hall gave access. Also, it was irritating.
I raised the spikard. Using it here at the level I intended would be like setting off a burglar alarm. Amen.