He swung around a sapphire corner and vanished. Almost completely disoriented, I moved in that direction. After several turns and one cutback, I felt totally lost. Luke was nowhere in sight.
I halted and listened. Not a sound except for my own breathing.
“Luke! Where are you?” I called.
“Up here,” he answered.
The voice seemed to be coming from overhead and somewhere off to my right. I ducked beneath a low arch and came into a bright blue chamber of the same crystalline substance as the rest of the place. I saw a sleeping bag and a pillow in one comer. Light streamed in from a small opening about eight feet overhead.
“Luke?” I asked again.
“Here,” came his reply.
I moved to position myself beneath the hole, squinting against the brightness as I stared upward. Finally, I shaded my eyes. Luke’s head and shoulders was lined above me, his hair a crown of coppery flame in what could be the light of early morning or of evening. He was smiling again.
“That, I take it, is the way out,” I said.
“For me,” he answered.
“What do you mean?”
There followed a grating noise and the view was partly occluded by the edge of a large boulder.
“What are you doing?”
“Moving this stone into a position where I can block the opening quickly,” he replied, “and stick in a few wedges afterward.”
“Why?”
“There are sufficient tiny openings for air so that you shan’t suffocate,” he went on.
“Great. Why am I here, anyway?”
“Let’s not get existential just now,” he said. “This isn’t a philosophy seminar.”
“Luke! Damn it! What’s going on?”
“It should be obvious that I’m making you a prisoner,” he said. “The blue crystal, by the way, will block any Trump sendings and negate your magical abilities that rely on things beyond the walls. I need you alive and fangless for now, in a place where I can get to you in a hurry.”
I studied the opening and the nearby walls.
“Don’t try it,” he said. “I have the advantage of position.”
“Don’t you think you owe me an explanation?”
He stared at me for a moment, then nodded.
“I have to go back,” he said finally, “and try to get control of the Ghostwheel. Any suggestions?”
I laughed. “It’s not on the best of terms with me at the moment. I’m afraid I can’t help you.”
He nodded again. “I’ll just have to see what I can do. God, what a weapon! If I can’t swing it myself I’ll have to come back and pick your brains for some ideas. You be thinking about it, okay?”
“I’ll be thinking about a lot of things, Luke. You’re not going to like some of them.”
“You’re not in a position to do much.”
“Not yet,” I said.
He caught hold of the boulder, began to move it.
“Luke!” I cried.
He paused, studied me, his expression changing to one I had never seen before.
“That’s not really my name,” he stated, after a moment.
“What, then?”
“I am your cousin Rinaldo,” he said slowly. “I killed Caine, and I came close with Bleys. I missed with the bomb at the funeral, though. Someone spotted me. I will destroy the House of Amber with or without your Ghostwheel – but it would make things a lot easier if I had that kind of power.”
“What’s your bitch, Luke? . . . Rinaldo? Why the vendetta?”
“I went after Caine first,” he continued, “because he’s the one who actually killed my father.”
“I didn’t know.” I stared at the flash of the Phoenix clasp upon his breast. “I didn’t know that Brand had a son,” I finally said.
“You do now, old buddy. That’s another reason why I can’t let you go, and why I have to keep you in a place like this. Don’t want you warning the others.”
“You’re not going to be able to pull this off.”
He was silent for several seconds, then he shrugged.
“Win or lose, I have to try.”
“Why April 30?” I said suddenly. “Tell me that.”
“It was the day I got the news of my dad’s death.”