There was a slight vibration within the ground. I opened another channel. Within my metaphor the rocks grew stable beneath the waters. Shortly thereafter, the ground ceased its vibration.

I returned to the place where I had first felt the slide begin, stable now, yet still stressed. Feel it, feel it carefully. Describe a vector. Follow. Follow it to the point of original pressure. But no. This point is but a confluence of vectors. Trace them.

Yet again. More junctions. Trace them. Access more channels. The entire pressure structure, intricate as a nervous system, must be described. I must hold its tree within my mind.

Another layer. It may not be possible. I may lx courting infinity in my topographic branchings. Freeze frame. Simplify the problem. Ignore everything beyond the tertiary. Trace to the next junction. There are some loops. Good. And a plate is now involved. Better.

Try another jump. No good. Too big a picture to contain. Discard tertiaries.

Yes.

Thus general lines sketched. Vectors of transmission simply drawn-back to plate, almost. Pressure exerted less than full pressure extended. Why? Additional point of input along second vector, redirecting shear forces this valley.

“Merlin? Are you all right?”

“Let me be,” I hear my voice respond.

Extend then, input source, into, feeling, transmission signature...

Is this a Logrus that I see before me?

I opened three more channels, focused on the area, began heating it.

Soon rocks were cracking, but a little later they melted. My newly created magma flowed down fault lines. A hollowed-out area occurred at the point whence the precipitating force had originated.

Back.

I withdrew my probes, shut down the spikard.

“What did you do?” he asked me.

“I found the place where the Logrus was messing with underground stresses,” I said, “and I removed the place. There's a small grotto there now. If it collapses it may ease the pressure even more.”

“So you've stabilized it?”

“At least for now. I don't know the limits of the Logrus, but it's going to have to figure a new route to reach this place. Then it's going to have to test it out. And if it's doing a lot of Pattern watching just now, that may slow it.”

“So you've bought some time,” he said. “Of course, the Pattern may move against us next.”

“It could,” I said. “I've brought everyone here because I thought they'd be safe from both Powers.”

“Apparently you made the payoff worth the risk.”

“Okay,” I said. “I guess it's time to give them some

other things to worry about.”

“Such as?”

I looked at him, Pattern ghost of my father, guardian of this place.

“I know where your flesh-and-blood counterpart is,” I said, “and I'm about to set him free.”

There came a flash of lightning. A sudden gust of wind lofted the fallen leaves, stirred the fogs.

“I must accompany you,” he said.

“Why?

“I've a personal interest in him, of course.”

“All right.”

Thunder crashed about us, and the fogs were tom apart by a fresh onslaught of wind.

Jurt came up to us then.

“I think it's begun,” he said.

“What?” I asked.

“The duel of Powers,” he said. “For a long time the Pattern had an edge. But when Luke damaged it and you snatched away the bride of the Jewel, it must have weak

ened it more, relative to the Logrus, than it's been in ages. So the Logrus decided to attack, pausing only for a quick attempt to damage this Pattern.”

“Unless the Logrus was just testing us,” I said, “and this is simply a storm.”

A light rain had begun while he was speaking.

“I came here because I thought it was the one place neither of them would touch in the event of a contest,” he went on. “I'd assumed neither would care to divert energy from its own attack or defense for a swipe in this direction.”

“That reasoning may still hold,” I said.

“Just for once I'd like to be on the winning side,” he stated. “I'm not sure I care about right or wrong.

They're very arguable quantities. I'd just like to be in with the guys who win for a change. What do you think, Merle? What are you going to do?”

“Corwin here and I are going to head for the Courts, and we're going to free my father,” I said. “Then we're going to resolve whatever needs resolving and live happily ever after. You know how it goes.”

He shook his head.

“I can never decide whether you're a fool or whether your confidence is warranted. Every time I decided you were a fool, though, it cost me.” He looked up at the dark sky, wiped rain from his brow. “I'm really torn,” he said, “but you could still be King of Chaos.”

“No,” I said.

“...And you enjoy some special relationship with the Powers.”

“If I do, I don't understand it myself.”

“No matter,” he said. “I'm still with you.” I crossed to the others, hugged Coral.

“I must return to the Courts,” I said. “Guard the Pattern. We'll be back.”

The sky was illuminated by three brilliant flashes. The wind shook the tree.

I turned away and created a door in the middle of the air. Corwin's ghost and I stepped through it.

XII

Thus did I return to the Courts of Chaos, coming through into Sawall's space-warped sculpture garden.

“Where are we?” my ghost-father asked.

“A museum of sorts,” I replied, “in the house of my stepfather. I chose it because the lighting is tricky and there are many places to hide.”

He studied some of the pieces, as well as their disposition upon the walls and ceiling.

“This would be a hell of a place to fight a skirmish,” he observed.

“I suppose it would.”

“You grew up hereabout, huh?”

“Yes.”

“What was it like?”

“Oh, I don't know. I don't have anything to compare it to. I had some good times, alone, and with friendsand a few bad times. All a part of being a kid.”

“This place..?”

“The Ways of Sawall. I wish I had time to show you the whole thing, take you through all of the ways.”

“One day, perhaps.”

“Yes.”

I began walking, hoping for the Ghostwheel or Kergma to appear. Neither did, however.

We finally passed into a corridor that took us to a hall of tapestries, whence there was a way to a room that I desired-for the room let upon the hallway that passed the gallery of metal trees. Before we could depart, however, I heard voices from that hallway. So we waited in the room-which contained the skeleton of a Jabberwock painted in orange, blue, and yellow, Early Psychedelic-as the speakers approached. One of them I recognized immediately as my brother Mandor; the other I could not identify by voice alone, but managing a glimpse as they passed, I saw it to be Lord Bances of Amblerash, High Priest of the Serpent Which Manifests the Logrus (to cite a full title just once). In a badly plotted story they'd have paused outside the doorway, and I'd have overheard a conversation telling me everything I needed to know about anything.

They slowed as they passed.

“That's the way it will be then?” Bances said.

“Yes,” Mandor replied. “Soon.”

And they were by, and I couldn't make out another word. I listened to their receding footsteps till they were gone. Then I waited a little longer. I would have sworn I heard a small voice saying, “Follow. Follow.”

“Hear anything just then?” I whispered.

“Nope.”

So we stepped out into the hallway and turned right, moving in the opposite direction from that which Mandor and Bances had taken. As we did, I felt a sensation of heat at a point somewhat below my left hip..

“You think he is somewhere near here?” the Corwin ghost asked. “Prisoner to Dara?”

“Yes and no,” I said. “Ow!”

It felt like a hot coal pressed against my upper leg. I jammed my hand into my pocket as I slid into the nearest display niche, which I shared with a mummified lady in an amber casket.