“Never mind,” I said. “I’ll manage it myself.”
I activated the spikard. Energies spiraled from six of its tines, encaging Ghost and myself, swirling us upward to the place of my desire in the Maze of Art. I tried for a flash of fire as we went, but had no way of knowing whether I’d achieved it. Makes you wonder how the really good ones get their practice.
VII
I delivered us into that eerie hall that had always been old Sawall’s chief delight in the maze. It was a sculpture garden, with no outside light sources and small base lighting only about the huge pieces, making it several times darker than my favorite lounge. The floor was uneven-concave, convex, stepped, ridged-with concavity being the dominant curve. It was difficult to guess at its dimensions, for it seemed of different size and contour depending upon where one stood. Gramble, Lord Sawall, had caused it to be constructed without any plane surfaces-and I believe the job involved some unique shadowmastery.
I stood beside what appeared to be a complicated rigging in the absence of its ship-that, or an elaborate musical instrument fit to be strummed by Titans-and the light turned the lines to silver, running like life from darkness to darkness within some half seen frame. Other pieces jutted from walls and hung like stalactites. As I strolled, what had seemed walls became floor to me. The pieces that had seemed floored now jutted or depended.
The room changed shape as I went, and a breeze blew through it, causing sighs, hums, buzzes, chimes. Gramble, my stepfather, had taken a certain delight in this hall, whereas for me it had long represented an exercise in intrepidity to venture beyond its threshold. As I grew older, however, I, too, came to enjoy it, partly for the occasional frisson it provided my adolescence. Now, though-now I just wanted to wander it a few moments, for old times’ sake, as I sorted through my thoughts. There were so damned many of them. Things that had tantalized me for much of my adult life seemed near to explanation now. I was not happy with all of the possibilities that tumbled through my mind. Still, no matter which ones came out on top, it would beat ignorance.
“Dad?”
“Yes?”
“What is this place, anyway?” Ghost asked.
“It’s a part of the big art collection here at the Ways of Sawall,” I explained. “People come from all over the Courts and nearby Shadow to see it. It was a passion with my stepfather. I spent a lot of time wandering these halls when I was a kid. There are many hidden ways in this place.”
“And this particular room? There’s something wrong with it.”
“Yes and no,” I said. “I guess it depends on what you mean by ‘wrong.’“
“My perceptions are strangely affected just now.”
“That is because the space itself is folded in here, like some odd origami figure. The hall is much larger than it seems. You can wander through many times and witness a different array of displays on each occasion. There may even be some internal movement involved. I was never sure. Only Sawall knew for certain.”
“I was right. Something’s wrong with it.”
“I rather like it this way.”
I seated myself on a silver stump beside a sprawled silver tree.
“I want to see how it folds,” he said at last.
“Go ahead.”
As he drifted off, I thought of my recent interview with my mother. I was reminded of everything Mandor had said or implied, of the conflict between the Pattern and the Logrus, of my father as the champion of the Pattern and intended king in Amber. Had she known this, known it as fact rather than speculation? I imagined she could have, for she seemed to enjoy a special relationship with the Logrus, and it would surely have been aware of its adversary’s more prominent decisions. She’d admitted that she did not love the man. It seemed as if she had sought him for whatever genetic material had so impressed the Pattern. Had she really been trying to breed a champion for the Logrus?
I chuckled as I considered the result. She had seen me trained well in arms, but I was nowhere near Dad’s league. I’d preferred sorcery, but sorcerers were a dime a dozen in the Courts. Finally, she’d shipped me off to college on that Shadow Earth the Amberites favor. But a degree in Computer Science from Berkeley didn’t much qualify me to uphold the banner of Chaos against the forces of Order either. I must have been a disappointment to her.