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And so we rode-six paces along a city street, amid the blare of horns, our black way edged by skid marks; a quarter mile along a black sand beach, beside a soft green sea, stirring palms to our left; across a tarnished snowfield; beneath a bridge of stone, our way a dead and blackened streambed; then to prairie; back to wooded way-and Tiger never flinched, even when Dalt put a booted foot through a windshield and broke off an antenna.

The way continued to widen, to perhaps twice its width when I had first come upon it. Stark trees were more common within it now, standing like photographic negatives of their bright mates but a few feet off the trail. While the leaves and branches of these latter were regularly stirred, we felt no wind at all. The soundsof our voices, of our mounts' hooves-came somehow muted now, also. Our entire course had a constant, wavery twilight atmosphere to it, no matter that a few paces away-which brief excursion we essayed many timesit might be high noon or midnight. Dead-looking birds were perched within the blackened trees, though they seemed on occasion to move, and the raspy, croaking sounds that sometimes came to us may well have been theirs.

At one time, a fire raged to our right; at another, we seemed to be passing near the foot of a glacier on the left. Our trail continued to widen-nothing like the great Black Road Corwin had described to me from the days of the war, but big enough now for us all to ride abreast.

“Luke,” I said, after a time.

“Yeah?” he answered, from my left. Nayda rode to my right now, and Dalt to her right. “What's up?”

“I don't want to be king.”

“Me neither,” he said. “How hard they pushing you?”

“I'm afraid they're going to grab me and crown me if I go back. Everybody in my way died suddenly. They really plan to stick me on the throne, to marry me to Coral—”

“Uh-huh,” he said, “and I've two questions about it. First, will it work?”

“The Logrus seems to think it will, at least for a time-which is all politics is about, anyhow.”

“Second,” he said, “if you feel about the place the

way I feel about Kashfa, you're not going to let it go to hell if you can help it-even if it means some personal misery. You don't want to take the throne, though, so you must have worked out some alternative remedy. What is it?”

I nodded as the trail turned sharply to the left and headed uphill. Something small and dark scuttled across our path.

“I've a notion-not even a full idea,” I said, “which I want to discuss with my father.”

“Tall order,” he said. “You know for sure that he's even alive?”

“I talked to him not all that long ago-very briefly. He's a prisoner, somewhere. All I know for sure is that it's somewhere in the vicinity of the Courts-because I can reach him by Trump from there, but nowhere else.”

“Tell me about this communication,” he said.

And so I did, black bird and all.

“Sounds like busting him out's going to be tricky,” he said. “And you think your mom's behind it?”

“Yep.”

“I thought I was the only one with these maternal problems. But it figures, seeing as yours trained mine.”

“How come we turned out so normal?” I said.

He just stared at me for several seconds. Then he started to laugh.

“Well, I feel normal,” I said.

“Of course,” he said quickly then, “and that's what counts. Tell me, if it came to an out-and-out crossing of powers, do you think you could beat Dara?”

“Hard to say,” I told him. “I'm stronger now than I ever was before, because of the spikard. But I'm beginning to believe she's very good.”

“What the hell's a spikard?” So I told him that story, too.

“That's why you were so flashy back in the church when you were fighting with Jurt?” he said.

“That's right.”

“Let's see it.”

I tried to pull it off, but it wouldn't pass the knuckle.

So I simply extended my hand. Luke reached for it. His fingers halted a couple of inches above it.

“It's holding me off, Merle. Protective little devil.”

“Hell,” I said, “I'm not a shapeshifter for nothing.” I took hold of it then, slimmed my finger suddenly, and slid it off. “Here.”

He held it in the palm of his left hand as we bounced along, regarding it through narrowed eyes. Suddenly, I felt dizzy. Withdrawal symptoms from the thing? I forced myself upright, reversed my breathing, refused to let it show.

“Heavy,” Luke said at last. “I can feel the power there. Other things, too. It won't let me in, though.”

I reached for it and he drew his hand away.

“I can feel it in the air all around us,” he said. “Merle, this thing lays a spell on anybody who wears it.

I shrugged.

“Yes,” I said. “A benign one, though. It's done nothing to harm me, and it's helped me a number of times.”

“But can you trust anything that came to you in such

an odd way-almost by trickery, caused you to abandon Frakir when she tried to warn you about it, and for all you know has been influencing your behavior ever since you put it on?”

“I admit to a kind of disorientation at first,” I said, “but I think that was just in the way of accommodation to the levels of voltage it draws. I've been back to normal for some time now.”

“How can you tell for sure? Maybe it's brainwashed you.”

“Do I seem brainwashed to you?”

“No. I was just trying to say that I wouldn't completely trust anything with such questionable credentials.”

“Well taken,” I agreed, holding forth my hand. “But so far the benefits have outweighed any hypothetical dangers. Consider me warned, and I'll take my chances.”

He handed it back.

“If I think it's making you act weird I'm going to hit you over the head and pull it off, though.”

“Fair enough,” I said, slipping it back on. Immediately, I felt a rush of energy throughout my system as the lines of control were reestablished.

“If you're not sure you can force the information out of your mother,” he said, “how do you propose finding Corwin and freeing him?”

“Several things suggest themselves,” I said. “The simplest way may be a foot in the door technique. That is, I'd open all of the channels on the spikard and go for another Trump contact. As soon as there's any sort of opening I'd just push ahead with full force, jamming any spells that try to stop me and burning them out.”

“Sounds as if it could be dangerous.”

“I can't think of any way to go about this that wouldn't be.”

“Then why haven't you tried it?”

“It only occurred to me recently, and I haven't had the time since then.”

“However you go about it, you're going to need some help,” he said. “So count me in.”

“Thanks, Luke. I—”

“Now, about the king business,” he said. “What happens if you simply refuse to take the throne? Who's next in line?”

“It's a bit tangled when you come to Sawall,” I said. “By rights, Mandor should be first in line of succession from our House. He'd removed himself from the line years ago, though.”

“Why?”

“I believe he claimed he was unfit to rule.”

“No offense, Merle. But he seems like the only one of you who is fit for the job.”

“Oh, without a doubt,” I responded. “Most of the Houses have someone like him, though. There's usually a nominal head and a de facto one, someone for show and someone for scheming. Mandor likes the climate behind the scenes.”

“Sounds as if your House has two,” he said.

“I'm not really clear on it,” I said. “I don't know Dara's status right now in her father's House-Helgram-or her mother's-Hendrake. But it might be worth a power struggle within Sawall if that's where the next king is coming from. Still, the more I learn of Mandor the more intimidating such a struggle would seem. I'd guess they're cooperating.”