“What is it?” I said.
“I thought perhaps you could tell me,” Ganelon replied. “I had thought it a part of your shadow-sorceries.”
I shook my head slowly.
“I was quite drowsy, but I would remember if I had arranged for anything that strange to occur. How did you know it was there?”
“We skirted it several times as you slept, then edged away again. I did not like the feeling at all. It was a very familiar one. Does it not remind you of something?”
“Yes. Yes, it does. Unfortunately.”
He nodded.
“It‘s like that damned Circle back in Lorraine. That‘s what it‘s like.”
“The black road . . .” I said.
“What?”
“The black road,” I repeated. “I did not know what she was referring to when she mentioned it, but now I begin to understand. This is not good at all.”
“Another ill omen?”
“I am afraid so.”
He cursed, then, “Will it cause us any immediate trouble?” he asked.
“I don‘t believe so, but I am not certain.”
He climbed down from the crate and I followed.
“Let‘s find some forage for the horses then,” he said, “and tend to our own bellies as well.”
“Yes.”
We moved forward and he took the reins. We found a good spot at the foot of the hill.
We tarried there for the better part of an hour, talking mainly of Avalon. We did not speak again of the black road, though I thought of it quite a bit. I had to get a closer look at the thing, of course.
When we were ready to move on, I took the reins again. The horses, somewhat refreshed, moved out at a good pace.
Ganelon sat beside me on the left, still in a talkative mood. I was only just then beginning to realize how much this strange homecoming had meant to him. He had revisited many of his old haunts from the days of his outlawry, as well as four battlefields where he had distinguished himself greatly after he had achieved respectability. I was in many ways moved by his reminiscences. An unusual mixture of gold and clay, this man. He should have been an Amberite.
The miles slid by quickly and we were drawing near to the black road again when I felt a familiar mental jab. I passed the reins to Ganelon.
“Take them!” I said. “Drive!”
“What is it?”
“Later! Just drive!”
“Should I hurry?”
“No. Keep it normal. Don‘t say anything for a while.”
I closed my eyes and rested my head in my hands, emptying my mind and building a wall around the emptiness. No one home. Out to lunch. No solicitors. This property is vacant. Do not disturb. Trespassers will be prosecuted. Beware of dog. Falling rock. Slippery when wet. To be razed for urban renewal . . .
It eased, then came on again, hard, and I blocked it again. There followed a third wave. I stopped that one, too.
Then it was gone.
I sighed, massaged my eyeballs.
“It‘s all right now,” I said.
“What happened?”
“Someone tried to reach me by a very special means. It was almost certainly Benedict. He must just now have found out any of a number of things that could make him want to stop us. I‘ll take the reins again now. I fear he will be on our trail soon.”
Ganelon handed them over.
“What are our chances of escaping him?”
“Pretty fair now. I‘d say, that we‘ve got more distance behind us. I am going to shuffle some more shadows as soon as my head stops spinning.”
I guided us on, and our way twisted and wound, paralleling that black road for a time, then heading in closer to it. Finally, we were only a few hundred yards away from it.
Ganelon studied it in silence for a long while, then said, “It reminds me too much of that other place. The little tongues of mist that lick about things, the feeling that something is always moving just at the corner of your eye . . .”
I bit my lip. I began to perspire heavily. I was trying to shift away from the thing now and there was some sort of resistance. It was not the same feeling of monolithic immovability as occurs when you try to move through Shadow in Amber. It was altogether different. It was a feeling of inescapability.