“We are close…” Dworkin murmured. “Yes…”

“To what?” I asked, still staring at the sea.

“To the Pattern, the true Pattern, the one at the center of everything. It is just ahead.”

He dismounted and left his horse, just dropping its reins. I did the same. The geldings lowered their heads contentedly and began to feast on the grass.

Side by side, we walked to where a huge flat stone, which must have been a hundred and fifty yards across and a hundred yards long, rose just above the surface of the plain.

There, on the stone, like a ribbon of gold, I saw the familiar outline of the Pattern—the coils and turns, the elegant loops and switchbacks. It nearly matched the Pattern within me… almost, but not quite. It more resembled that which the serpent in the tower of skulls had raised from Taine's blood.

“It's flawed,” I said.

“Yes,” he said. “And that is why it must be destroyed. That is why we are here. The problems must be fixed.”

I looked at him. “When you made it, you had never seen the whole Pattern, had you?”

“No.”

“Wait!” cried a voice behind us.

I looked back. Aber was running through the grass to catch up.

“Go home,” I told him. “You don't belong here. You tried to save us. You did your best. King Uthor will understand.”

“You're going to destroy it!” he said to Dad, ignoring me. “I heard you say so. Why didn't you tell me? That's all King Uthor wants! We've been fighting for the same thing, all this time!”

“Then you will help?” Dad asked him.

“Yes.” He nodded quickly. “What must I do?”

“I am not quite sure what will happen,” he said, “when I destroy it. You must keep me safe until my work is done, no matter what happens.”

Aber swallowed, glanced at me, and nodded again.

“What about everyone we sent into Shadows to hide?” I asked. “What happens to them when the Shadows go away?”

Dworkin hesitated. “I cannot know,” he finally admitted. “Here. Use these.” He drew out a small stack of Trumps he'd been carrying inside his shirt. I flipped through them and removed the ones showing my brothers and sisters we had sent into Shadow to hide: Titus and Conner, identical twins, both as short as our father and both with his eyes and wary expressions; Isadora, in full battle dress, her red hair flowing; Syara, slender as a goddess, also red-haired; and Leona, sweet-faced and innocent; and Blaise, stunningly beautiful, but treacherous and manipulative. My family.

“Are these Pattern Trumps?” I asked, returning the others to my father.

He nodded. “Tell them to go back to Chaos,” he said, “while they still may. That is the one place which I know will continue.”

I handed half the Trumps to Aber and kept the other half myself. He raised Titus's Trump. I picked Isadora's and concentrated.

A moment later my sister's image rippled and became lifelike. She stood before me in chain link armor, a sword in her hand, red hair flowing in the wind, a smudge of blood across her chin. She looked fiercely beautiful. Beyond her, I saw Juniper Castle, its walls half tumbled. Smoke rose from two of the towers. Giant creatures, naked and hairy, carrying clubs and spears, roamed the walls. Those had to be the trolls.

“Oberon?” she said. “What do you want?”

“I'm with Dad,” I asked.

“Good. We are almost done here. Our vengeance is nearly complete. Tell him.”

“He's about to destroy all the Shadows. You must leave now.”

“What!” she cried. “How“

I shook my head. “We don't have time for that. You must return to Chaos as quickly as you can. We don't know what will happen to anyone still in Shadows when the end comes. Promise me you'll go?”

She hesitated, then nodded. “All right. But—”

“Thanks. I have others to reach.” I put my hand over the Trump, and she disappeared, still calling questions. Hopefully she would hurry.

Next came Leona. I tried to contact her, concentrating as hard as I could, but though I sensed her out there, she refused to respond. Probably minding her orders, I thought unhappily. She had been told not to answer anyone, no matter what, until we settled the matter of whoever was trying to destroy our family.

“If you can hear me,” I said, “this is Oberon. You aren't safe in Shadows anymore. Get to Dad's house in the Beyond as fast as you can.”

I could do no more than that.

My last Trump showed Syara. I got no response from her, either. I tried sending the same message as the one I'd given Leona.

Then I put my trumps down and looked at Aber. He too had finished.

“Well?”

“I reached Titus,” he said. “He and Conner are heading back. Blaise… sorry, she wouldn't answer me.”

I nodded slowly. “I spoke with Isadora. I couldn't reach Leona or Syara.”

“Let me try them,” he said.

“And I'll try Blaise.”

We traded Trumps, and he concentrated on first one, then the other. Then he shook his head.

“Nothing.”

I raised Blaise's Trump and got only the faintest of stirring, as though she were far away. Still I concentrated, willing her to appear before me, demanding it.

Finally her image wavered and came to life, though not clearly. She lay on a padded bench sipping what looked like wine as scantily clad young men fanned her with enormous wicker paddles. In the distance, I saw an emerald sea, with languid waves splashing on a broad white beach. Gulls wheeled overhead, their calls raucous.

“Oberon…” she said. Her voice sounded like it came from the depths of a cave, flat and echoing.

“Get back to the Courts of Chaos as fast as you can,” I told her. “You're in danger where you are.”

“Danger?” She laughed and looked about. “Here?”

I frowned. “All the Shadows, including the one you're in, are about to be destroyed.

“Impossible!”

“This is the only warning you're going to get. Contact Fenn or Freda and join them in the Beyond. It's your only hope. If I'm wrong… well, you can always go back.”

“Very well.” She sat up, looking annoyed. How very like her. I covered the Trump and broke our connection.

“I told Blaise,” I said to Aber. Then I told him about the decadent scene I had witnessed. We both had to laugh.

Our father, meanwhile, had finished his walk around the perimeter of the Pattern. He was nodding and mumbling to himself, gesturing in the air as if trying to do complicated calculations.

Standing, I climbed onto the immense flat rock and walked around its edge, avoiding the Pattern, to join him.

“Well? Can you destroy it?” I asked.

“That is not the problem,” he said in a low voice, so Aber wouldn't hear. “It is only sand lying on top of the stone. It was… never meant to be permanent. The next one must be.”

“Sand?”

I looked down at the Pattern; it looked like a solid gold ribbon on top of the rock. I reached out to touch it, but he caught my wrist.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“To walk its length, you must start at the beginning. To enter anywhere else would kill you.”

“I wasn't going to walk it,” I said. “I just wanted to see what it's made of.”

“Do not touch it.”

“Dad?” Aber called. “Oberon?”

“What?” Dworkin said sharply.

“We've been followed!”

I followed my brother's pointing finger to see a line of hell-creatures—lai she 'on—entering the grassland three hundred yards away. They wore full armor. Some carried pikes; two held red banners aloft, both of which blazed with a dragon crest. They advanced steadily on us.

“King Uthor's men,” Dworkin said. He looked at Aber. “You brought them here!”

“No!” he cried. “They must have followed me! I didn't know—”

“Get me a staff,” he said. “Then you both must keep them at bay as long as you can. I will do the rest.”

“A staff…”Aber said.

He used the Logrus to reach into the air, feeling distantly for something. Then he pulled a wooden pole from mid air. It was a little bit longer than four feet from end to end—about the same height as Dworkin—and it looked familiar. With a measure of horror, I realized it was the pole that had held King Elnar's head in Ilerium after hell-creatures had killed him. My king's head had been ensorcelled… it had spoken to me and called me a traitor. Aber must not have realized where the pole had been, or what had been done to it.