She moved a few steps past me into that strange chamber and halted. I stepped away and let the door swing shut, then came up beside her.
“So that’s it,” she remarked.
Roughly elliptical, the intricately wound oval form of the Pattern glowed blue-white within the floor. I set the lantern aside. It wasn’t really necessary, the glow from the Pattern providing more than sufficient illumination. I stroked Frakir, calming her. A jet of sparks rose at the far end of the great design, subsided quickly, occurred again nearer to us. The chamber seemed filled with a half familiar pulsing I had never consciously noted before. On an impulse-to satisfy a long-held point of curiosity-I summoned the Sign of the Logrus.
This was a mistake.
Immediately the image of the Logrus flared before me, sparks erupted along the entire length of the Pattern, and a high-pitched banshee wail rose from somewhere. Frakir went wild, my ears felt as if icicles had been driven into them, and the brightness of the writhing Sign hurt my eyes. I banished the Logrus in that instant, and the turmoil began to subside.
“What,” she asked me, “was that?”
I tried to smile, didn’t quite manage it.
“A little experiment I’d always meant to try,” I told her.
“Did you learn anything from it?”
“Not to do it again, perhaps,” I answered.
“Or at least not till the company’s left,” she said.”That hurt.”
She moved nearer to the edge of the Pattern, which had calmed itself again.
“Eerie,” she observed. “Like a light in a dream. But it’s gorgeous. And all of you have to walk it to come into your heritage?”
“Yes.” She moved slowly to the right, following its perimeter. I followed her as she strolled, her gaze roving across the bright expanse of arcs and turns, short straight lines, long sweeping curves.
“I assume it is difficult?”
“Yes. The trick is to keep pushing and not to stop trying even if you stop moving,” I replied.
We walked on, to the right, circling slowly around to the rear. The design seemed to be within the floor rather than upon it, seen as through a layer of glass. But nowhere was the surface slippery.
We paused for a minute or so while she took its measure from a new angle.
“So how are you responding to it?” I finally asked.
“Esthetically,” she said.
“Anything else?”
“Power,” she said. “It seems to radiate something.”
She leaned forward and waved her hand above the nearest line. “It’s almost a physical pressure,” she added then.
We moved farther, passing along the back length of the grand design. I could see across the Pattern, to the place where the lantern glowed on the floor near to the entranceway. Its light was negligible beside the greater illumination we regarded now.
Shortly, Coral halted again. She pointed.
“What is this single line, which seems to end right here?” she asked.
“It’s not the end,” I said. “It’s the beginning. That is the place where one commences the walking of the Pattern.”
She moved nearer, passing her hand above it also.
“Yes,” she said after a moment. “I can feel that it starts here.”
For how long we stood there, I am uncertain. Then she reached out, took hold of my hand and squeezed it.
“Thanks,” she said, “for everything.”
I was about to ask her why that had such a final sound about it, when she moved forward and set her foot upon the line.
“No!” I cried. “Stop!”
But it was too late. Her foot was already in place, brightness outlining the sole of her boot.
“Don’t move!” I said. “Whatever you do, stay still!” She did as I said, holding her position. I licked my lips, which suddenly seemed very dry.
“Now, try to raise the foot you placed upon the line and draw it back.
Can you do it?”
“No,” she replied.
I knelt beside her and studied it. Theoretically, once you’d set foot upon the Pattern there was no turning back. You had no choice but to continue and either make it through or be destroyed somewhere along the way. On the other hand, she should already be dead. Theoretically, again, anyone not of the blood of Amber shouldn’t be able to set foot upon it and live. So much for theory.