«An artifact created by the Pattern. It records everyone who walks it. It can call us back whenever it wants, as we were at one of the times we walked it. It can use us as it would, send us where it will with a task laid upon us - a geas, if you like. Destroy us, and it can create us over again.»
«Does it do this sort of thing often?»
«I don't know. I'm not familiar with its will, let alone its operations with any other than myself.» Then, «You're not a ghost! I can tell!» she announced suddenly, taking hold of my hand. «But there is something different about you - different from others of the blood of Amber…,»
«I suppose,» I answered. «I trace my lineage to the Courts of Chaos as well as to Amber.»
She raised my hand to her mouth as if she were about to kiss it. But her lips moved by, to the place on my wrist where I had cut myself at Brand's request. Then it hit me: Something about the blood of Amber must hold a special attraction for Pattern-ghosts.
I tried to draw my hand away, but the strength of Amber was hers also.
«The fires of Chaos sometimes flow within me,» I said. «They may do you harm.»
She raised her head slowly and smiled. There was blood on her mouth. I glanced down and saw that my wrist was wet with it, too.
«The blood of Amber has power over the Pattern,» she began, and the fog rolled, churned about her ankles. «No!» she cried then, and she bent forward once more.
The vortex rose to her knees, her calves. I felt her teeth upon my wrist, tearing. I knew of no spell to fight this thing, so I laid my arm across her shoulder and stroked her hair. Moments later she dissolved within my embrace, becoming a bloody whirlwind.
«Go right,» I heard her wail as she spun away from me, her cigarette still smoldering upon the pavement, my blood dripping beside it.
I turned away. I walked away. Faintly, faintly, through the night and the fog I could still hear the piano playing some tune from before my time.
Chapter 6
I took the road to the right, and everywhere my blood fell reality melted a little. I heal fast, though, and I stopped bleeding soon. Even stopped throbbing before too long.
You got blood all over me, boss.
«Could have been fire,» I observed.
l got singed a little, too, back at the stones.
«Sorry about that. Figure out what's going on yet?»
No new instructions, if that's what you mean. But I've been thinking, now I know how to do it, and this place gets more and more fascinating. This whole business of Pattern ghosts, for instance. If the Pattern can't penetrate here directly, it can at least employ agents. Wouldn't you think the Logrus might have some way of doing the same?
«I suppose it's possible.»
I get the impression there's some sort of duel going on between them here, on the underside of reality, between shadows. What if this place came first? Before Shadow, even? What if they're been fighting here since the very beginning, in some strange metaphysical way?
«What if they have?»
That could almost make Shadow an afterthought, a by product of the tension between the poles.
«I'm afraid you've lost me, Frakir.»
What if Amber and the Courts of Chaos were created only to provide agents for this conflict?
«And what if this idea were placed within you by the Logrus during your recent enhancement?»
Why?
«Another way to make me think that the conflict is more important than the people. Another pressure to make me choose a side.»
I don't feel manipulated.
«As you pointed out, you're to new to this thinking business. And that's a pretty damned abstract line of thought for you to be following this early in the game.»
Is it?
«Take my word for it.»
What does that leave us with?
«Unwelcome attention from On High.»
Better watch your language if this is their war zone.
«A pox on both their houses. For some reason I don't understand, they need me for this game. They'll put up with lt.»
From somewhere up ahead I heard a roll of thunder.
See what I mean?
«It's a bluff,» I replied.
Whose?
«The Pattern's, I believe. Its ghosts seem in charge of reality in this sector.»
You know, we could be wrong on all of this. Just shooting in the dark.
«I also feel shot at out of the dark. That's why I refuse to play by anybody else's rules.»
Have you got a plan?
«Hang loose. And if I say 'kill,' do it. Let's get to where we're going.»
I began to run again, leaving the fog, leaving the ghosts to play at being ghosts in their ghost city. Bright road through dark country, me running, reverse shadow, shifting, as the land tried to change me. And there ahead a flare and more thunder, virtual street scene flashing into and out of existence beside me.
And then it was as if I raced myself, dark figure darting along a bright way - till I realized it was indeed, somehow, a mirror effect. The movements of the figure to my right which paralleled my own mimicked mine; fleeting scenes to my left were imaged to the other's right.
What's going on, Merle?
«Don't know,» I said. «But I'm not in the mood for symbolism, allegory, and assorted metaphorical crap. If it's supposed to mean that life is a race with yourself, then it sucks - unless they're real platitudinizing Powers that are running this show. Then I guess it would be in character. What do you think?»
I think you might still be in danger of being struck by lightning,
The lightning did not follow, but my reflection did. The imaging effect continued for much longer than any of the previous beside-the-road sequences I'd witnessed. I was about to dismiss it, to ignore it completely, when my reflection put on a burst of speed and shot ahead of me,
Uh-oh,
«Yeah,» I agreed, stepping up my own pace to close the gap with and match the stride of that dark other.
We were parallel for no more than a few meters after I caught up. Then it began to pull ahead again. I stepped up my pace and caught up once more. Then, on an impulse I sucked air, bore down, and moved ahead.
My double noted it after a time, moved faster, began to gain. I pushed harder, held my lead. What the hell were we racing for anyway?
I looked ahead. In the distance I could see an area where the trail widened. There appeared to be a tape stretched across it at that point. Okay. Whatever the significance, I decided to go for it.
I held my lead for perhaps a hundred meters before my shadow began to gain on me again. I leaned into it and was able to hold that shortened distance for a time. Then it moved again, coming up on me at a pace I suspected might be hard to hold the rest of the way to the tape. Still, it was not the sort of thing one waited around to find out. I poured it on. I ran all out.
