I stood at the edge of the world and looked down into a bottomless rift full of stars. My mountain did not seem to grace the surface of a planet. However, there was a bridge to my left, leading outward to a dark, star-occluding . shape-another floating mountain, perhaps. I strolled over and stepped out onto the span. Problems involving atmosphere, gravitation, temperature, meant nothing here, where I could, in a sense, make up reality as I went along. I walked out onto the bridge, and for a moment the angle was right and I caught a glimpse of another bridge on the far side of the dark mass, leading off to some other darkness.
I halted in the middle, able to see along it for a great distance in either direction. It seemed a safe and appropriate spot. I withdrew my packet of Trumps and riffled through them until I located one I hadn’t used in a long, long time.
I held it before me and put the others away, studying the blue eyes and the young, hard, slightly sharp features beneath a mass of pure white hair. He was dressed all in black, save for a bit of white collar and sleeve showing beneath the glossy tight-fitting jacket. He held three dark steel balls in his gloved hand.
Sometimes it’s hard to reach all the way to Chaos, so I focused and extended, carefully, strongly. The contact came almost immediately. He was seated on a balcony beneath a crazily stippled sky, the Shifting Mountains sliding to his left. His feet were propped on a small floating table and he was reading a book. He lowered it and smiled faintly.
“Merlin,” he said softly. “You look tired.”
I nodded.
“You look rested,” I said.
“True,” he answered, as he closed the book and set it on the table.
Then, “There is trouble?” he asked.
“There is trouble, Mandor.”
He rose to his feet.
“You wish to come through?”
I shook my head. “If you have any Trumps handy for getting back, I’d rather you came to me.”
He extended his hand.
“All right,” he said.
I reached forward, our hands clasped; he took a single step and stood beside me on the bridge. We embraced for a moment and then he turned and looked out and down into the rift.
“There is some danger here?” he asked.
“No. I chose this place because it seems very safe.”
“Scenic, too,” he replied. “What’s been happening to you?”
“For years I was merely a student, and then a designer of certain sorts of specialized machinery,” I told him. “Things were pretty uneventful until fairly recently. Then all hell broke loose-but most of it I understand, and much of it seems under control. That part’s complicated and not really worth your concern.”
He rested a hand on the bridge’s side-piece: “And the other part?” he asked.
“My enemies up until this point had been from the environs of Amber. But suddenly, when it seemed that most of that business was on its way to being settled, someone put a Fire Angel on my trail. I succeeded in destroying it just a little while ago. I’ve no idea why, and it’s certainly not an Amber trick.”
He made a clicking noise with his lips as he turned away, paced a few steps, and turned back.
“You’re right, of course,” he said. “I’d no idea it had come anywhere near this, or I’d have spoken with you some time ago. But let me differ with you as to orders of importance before I indulge in certain speculations on your behalf. I want to hear your entire story.”
“Why?”
“Because you are sometimes appallingly naive, little brother, and I do not yet trust your judgment as to what is truly important.”
“I may starve to death before I finish,” I answered. Smiling crookedly, my step-brother Mandor raised his arms. While Jurt and Despil are my half brothers, borne by my mother, Dara, to Prince Sawall the Rim Lord, Mandor was Sawall’s son by an earlier marriage. Mandor is considerably older than I, and as a result he reminds me much of my relatives back in Amber. I’d always felt a bit of an outsider among the children of Dara and Sawall. In that Mandor was-in a more stable sense-not part of that particular grouping either, we’d had something in common. But whatever the impulse behind his early attentions, we’d hit it off and become closer, I sometimes think, than full blood brothers. He had taught me a lot of practical things over the years, and we had had many good times together.