Brand smiled.
“Benedict,” he said. “Fancy. . . You. . . Here.”
The Jewel of Judgment hung fiery upon his breast.
“Brand,” Benedict said, “don’t try it.”
Still smiling. Brand unclasped his sword belt and let his weapon fall to the floor. When the echoes died, he said, “I am not a fool, Benedict. The man hasn’t been born who can go up against you with a blade.”
“I don’t need the blade, Brand.”
Brand began walking, slowly, about the edge of the Pattern.
“Yet you wear it as a servant of the throne, when you could have been king.”
“That has never been high on my list of ambitions.”
“That is right.” He paused, only part way about the Pattern.
“Loyal, self-effacing. You have not changed at all. Pity Dad conditioned you so well. You could have gone so much further.”
“I have everything that I want,” Benedict said.
“. . . To have been stifled, cut off, so early.”
“You cannot talk your way past me either, Brand. Do not make me hurt you.”
The smile still on his face. Brand began moving again, slowly. What was it he was trying to do? I could not figure his strategy.
“You know I can do certain things the others cannot,” Brand said. “If there is anything at all that you want and think that you cannot have, now is your chance to name it and learn how wrong you were. I have learned things you would scarcely believe.”
Benedict smiled one of his rare smiles.
“You have chosen the wrong line,” he said. “I can walk to anything that I want.”
“Shadows!” Brand snorted, halting again. “Any of the others can clutch a phantom! I am talking of reality! Amber! Power! Chaos! Not daydreams made solid! Not second best!”
“If I had wanted more than I have, I knew what to do. I did not do it.”
Brand laughed, began walking again. He had come a quarter of the way about the Pattern’s periphery. The Jewel burned more brightly. His voice rang.
“You are a fool, to wear your chains willingly! But if things do not call out to you to possess them and if power holds no attraction, what of knowledge? I learned the last of Dworkin’s lore. I have gone on since then and paid dark prices for greater insight into the workings of the universe. This you could have without that price tag.”
“There would be a price,” Benedict said, “one that I will not pay.”
Brand shook his head and tossed his hair. The image of the Pattern wavered for a moment then, as a wisp of cloud crossed the moon. Tir-na Nog’th faded slightly, returned to normal focus.
“You mean it, you really mean it,” Brand said, apparently not aware of the moment of fading.
“I shan’t test you further then. I had to try.”
He halted again, staring.
“You are too good a man to waste yourself on that mess in Amber, defending something that is obviously falling apart. I am going to win, Benedict. I am going to erase Amber and build it anew. I am going to rub out the old Pattern and draw my own. You can be with me. I want you on my side. I am going to raise up a perfect world, one with more direct access to and from Shadow. I am going to merge Amber with the Courts of Chaos. I am going to extend this realm directly through all of Shadow. You will command our legions, the mightiest military forces ever assembled. You-“
“If your new world would be as perfect as you say, Brand, there would be no need for legions. If, on the other hand, it is to reflect the mind of its creator, then I see it as something less than an improvement over the present state of affairs. Thank you for your offer, but I hold with the Amber which already exists.”
“You are a fool, Benedict. A well-meaning one, but a fool nevertheless.”
He began to move again, casually. He was within forty feet of Benedict. Thirty. . . . He kept moving. He finally paused about twenty feet away, hooked his thumbs behind his belt, and simply stared. Benedict met his gaze. I checked the clouds again. A long mass of them continued a moonward slide. I could pull Benedict out at any time, though. It was hardly worth disturbing him at the moment.