looked upward, all of the anger draining from his face to be replaced by a look of fear verging on terror.
The cone was beginning to descend.
Turning then, he stepped onto the blackened area, faced south, raised both his arms and cried out something I could not hear above the wailing.
The cone fell toward him, but he seemed to grow two-dimensional as it approached. His outline wavered. He began to shrink-but it did not seem a function of actual size, so much as an effect of distancing. He dwindled, dwindled, was gone, a bare instant before the cone licked across the area he had occupied.
With him went the Jewel, so that I was left with no way of controlling the thing above me. I did not know whether it was better to maintain a low profile or to resume a normal stance on the Pattern. I decided on the latter, because the whirlwind seemed to go for things which broke the normal sequence. I got back into a sitting position and edged over to the line. Then I leaned forward into a crouch, by which time the cone began to rise. The wailing retreated down the scale as it withdrew. The blue fires about my boots had subsided completely. I turned and looked at Fiona. She motioned me to get up and go on.
So I rose slowly, seeing that the vortex above me continued to dissipate as I moved. Advancing upon the area where Brand had so recently stood, I once again used Grayswandir to guide me through. The twisted remains of Brand's blade lay near the far edge of the dim place.
I wished there were some easy way out of the Pattern. It seemed pointless to complete it now. But there is no turning back once you have set foot upon it, and I was extremely leery of trying the dark route out. So I headed on toward the Grand Curve. To what place, I wondered, had Brand taken himself? If I knew, I could command the Pattern to send me after him, once I reached the center. Perhaps Fiona had an idea. Still, he would probably head for a place where he had allies. It would be senseless to pursue him alone.
At least I had stopped the attunement, I consoled myself.
Then I entered the Grand Curve. The sparks shot up about me.
Chapter 12
Late afternoon on a mountain: the westering sun shone full on the rocks to my left, tailored long shadows for those to the right; it filtered through the foilage about my tomb; it countered to some extent the chill winds of Kolvir. I released Random's hand and turned to regard the man who sat on the bench before the mausoleum.
It was the face of the youth on the pierced Trump, lines now drawn above the mouth, brow heavier, a general weariness in eye movement and set of jaw which had not been apparent on the card.
So I knew it before Random said, 'This is my son Martin.'
Martin rose as I approached him, clasped my hand, said, 'Uncle Corwin.' His expression changed but slightly as he said it. He scrutinized me.
He was several inches taller than Random, but of the same light build. His chin and cheekbones had the same general cut to them, his hair was of a similar texture.
I smiled.
'You have been away a long while,' I said. 'So was I.'
He nodded.
'But I have never really been in Amber proper,' he said. 'I grew up in Rebma-and other places.'
'Then let me welcome you, nephew. You come at an interesting time. Random must have told you about it.'
'Yes,' he said. 'That is why I asked to meet you here, rather than there.'
I glanced at Random.
'The last uncle he met was Brand,' Random said, 'and under very nasty circumstances. Do you blame him?'
'Hardly. I ran into him myself a bit earlier. Can't say it was the most rewarding encounter.'
'Ran into him?' said Random. 'You've lost me.'
'He has left Amber and he has the Jewel of Judgment with him. If I had known earlier what I know now, he would still be in the tower. He is our man, and he is very dangerous.'
Random nodded.
'I know,' he said. 'Martin confirmed all our suspicions on the stabbing-and it was Brand. But what is this about the Jewel?'
'He beat me to the place where I had left it on the shadow Earth. He has to walk the Pattern with it and project himself through it, though, to attune it to his use. I just stopped him from doing that on the primal Pattern in the real Amber. He escaped, however. I was just over the hill with Gerard, sending a squad of guards through to Fiona in that place, to prevent his returning and trying again. Our own Pattern and that in Rebma are also under guard because of him.'
'Why does he want so badly to attune it? So he can raise a few storms? Hell, he could take a walk in Shadow and make all the weather he wants.'
'A person attuned to the Jewel could use it to erase the Pattern.'
'Oh? What happens then?'
'The world as we know it comes to an end.'
'Oh,' Random said again. Then, 'How the hell do you know?'
'It is a long story and I haven't the time, but I had it from Dworkin and I believe that much of what he said.'
'He's still around?'
'Later,' I said.
'Okay. But Brand would have to be mad to do something like that.'
I nodded.
'I believe he thinks he could then cast a new Pattern, redesign the universe with himself as chief executive.'
'Could this be done?'
'Theoretically, perhaps. But even Dworkin has certain doubts that the feat could be repeated effectively now. The combination of factors was unique... . Yes, I believe Brand is somewhat mad. Looking back over the years, recalling his personality changes, his cycles of moods, it seems there was something of a schizoid pattern there. I do not know whether the deal he made with the enemy pushed him over the edge or not. It does not really matter. I wish he were back in his tower. I wish Gerard were a worse physician.'
'Do you know who stabbed him?'
'Fiona. You can get the story from her, though.'
He leaned against my epitaph and shook his head.
'Brand,' he said. 'Damn him. Any one of us might have killed him on a number of occasions-in the old days. Just when he would get you mad enough, though, he would change. After a while, you would get to thinking he wasn't such a bad guy after all. Too bad he didn't push one of us just a little harder at the wrong time...'
'Then I take it he is now fair game?' said Martin.
I looked at him. The muscles in his jaws had tightened and his eyes narrowed. For a moment, all of our faces fled across his, like a riffling of the family cards. All of our egoism, hatred, envy, pride, and abuse seemed to flow by in that instant-and he had not even set foot in Amber yet. Something snapped inside me and I reached out and seized him by the shoulders.
'You have good reason to hate him,' I said, 'and the answer to your question is ‘yes.' The hunting season is open. I see no way to deal with him other than to destroy him. I hated him myself for so long as he remained an abstraction. But-now-it is different. Yes, he must be killed. But do not let that hatred be your baptism into our company. There has been too much of it among us. I look at your face-I don't know... . I am sorry, Martin. Too much is going on right now. You are young. I have seen more things. Some of them bother me-differently. That's all.'
