I rose and circled the remains of our lunch. I sat down beside her.
“Do you remember the looks of the burning spider web that really wasn‘t a spider web, or burning?” I asked her.
“Yes—sort of,” she said.
“Give me that knife,” I said.
She passed it to me.
With its point, I began adding to her doodling in the dirt, extending lines, rubbing some out, adding others. She did not say a word the entire time, but she watched every move that I made. When I had finished, I put the knife aside and waited for a long, silent while. Then, finally, she spoke very softly.
“Yes, that is it,” she said, turning away from the design to stare at me. “How did you know? How did you know what I had dreamed?”
“Because,” I said, “you dreamed a thing that is inscribed in your very genes. Why, how, I do not know. It demonstrates, however, that you are indeed a daughter of Amber. What you did was walk in Shadow. What you dreamed was the Great Pattern of Amber. By its power do those of the blood royal hold dominion over shadows. Do you understand what I am talking about?”
“I am not certain,” she said. “I do not think so. I have heard Grandpa cursing shadows, but I never understood what he meant.”
“Then you do not know where Amber truly lies.”
“No. He was always evasive. He told me of Amber and of the family. But I do not even know the direction in which Amber lies. I only know that it is far.”
“It lies in all directions,” I said, “or any direction one chooses. One need but—”
“Yes!” she interrupted. “I had forgotten, or thought he was just being mysterious or humoring me, but Brand said exactly the same thing a long while ago. What does it mean, though?”
“Brand! When was Brand here?”
“Years ago,” she said, “when I was just a little girl. He used to visit here often. I was very much in love with him and I pestered him mercilessly. He used to tell me stories, teach me games . . .”
“When was the last time you saw him?”
“Oh, eight or nine years ago. I‘d say.”
“Have you met any of the others?”
“Yes,” she said. “Julian and Gerard were here not too long ago. Just a few months back.”
I suddenly felt very insecure. Benedict had certainly been quiet about a lot of things. I would rather have been ill advised than kept totally ignorant of affairs. It makes it easier for you to be angry when you find out. The trouble with Benedict was that he was too honest, though. He would rather tell me nothing than lie to me. I felt something unpleasant coming my way, however, and knew that there could be no dawdling now, that I would have to move as quickly as possible. Yes, it had to be a hard hellride for the stones. Still, there was more to be learned here before I essayed it. Time . . . Damn!
“Was that the first time that you met them?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said, “and my feelings were very hurt.” She paused, sighed. “Grandpa would not let me speak of our being related. He introduced me as his ward. And he refused to tell me why. Damn it!”
“I‘m sure he had some very good reasons.”
“Oh, I am too. But it does not make you feel any better, when you have been waiting all your life to meet your relatives. Do you know why he treated me like that?”
“These are trying times in Amber,” I said, “and things will get worse before they get better. The fewer people who know of your existence, the less chance there is of your getting involved and coming to harm. He did it only to protect you.” She made a spitting noise.
“I do not need protecting,” she said. “I can take care of myself.”
“You are a fine fencer,” I said. “Unfortunately, life is more complicated than a fair dueling situation.”
“I know that. I‘m not a child. But—”
“ ‘But‘ nothing! He did the same thing I‘d do if you were mine. He‘s protecting himself as well as you. I‘m surprised he let Brand know about you. He‘s going to be damned mad that I found out.” Her head jerked and she stared at me, eyes wide.